#but I carried it the rest of the time we were out

[d3arapril]

PUSH 2 START | p.b

pushin' on my buttons with no hesitation, gas me up give me motivation

pairing: paige bueckers x f!reader word count: 5.4k words of pure filth sorry not sorry warnings/tags: sexual content. VACATION PAIGE!!!, they get drunk and nasty FRRR, dom!paige, oral, fingering, strap usage (yes i finally wrote it), squirting, doggy, spanking, overstim - bro i could literally go on and on, just read it lol. (reminder - don't like it? don't read it)‼️ ᡣ𐭩 this idea quite literally came to me in a dream. this wasn't supposed to be full on smut but obviously i got carried away & ended up writing quite possibly the dirtiest thing i've ever written.... i listened to tyla's album on repeat whilst writing hence the random title. enjoy :D as always feedback & reblogs are appreciated x

“Think I have heatstroke.”

You roll your eyes from where you’re sat on the balcony, distracted from the half eaten packet of lays sat in your lap. You shift in your seat to crane your neck around to look at Paige through the glass doors, sun beaming down onto your skin.

“We were outside for like, half an hour.”

The Greek sun was no joke. You'd both decided to treat yourselves to a last minute vacation, frantically booking one of the nicest apartments you could both find a week prior to departure. Seven days on a Greek island was your idea of heaven and Paige had willingly agreed, claiming she needed some sun.

However, what she wasn't prepared for was the sun being the hottest thing she'd ever felt in her 23 years of being alive– her words.

The blonde groans from where she’s splayed out on the bed. The crisp, white sheets are a nice contrast against her newly tanned skin, body wrapped in a white fluffy towel.

You stand up from the chair, grimacing at the sting of your legs unsticking from the plastic. The packet of lays gets abandoned on the small table before you and your toes burn against the hot tile as you hop back into the bedroom, pulling the door shut behind you.

Paige doesn't flinch when she hears you come in, cheek smooshed against the sheets. She hums in the back of her throat when you scratch at her scalp as you pass her, her hair still slightly damp from the shower.

"You gonna make it to dinner, champ?"

A breath of a laugh leaves Paige as she pushes herself up with another groan, towel loosely tucked around her body. You're busy sorting through the selection of dresses you'd packed when you feel her wrap her arms around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.

Her head juts towards the white dress hanging up in the closet. "Wear that one."

It's a fairly simple dress- plain white with a racer style neckline and ruffled skirt. You take it off the rail and hold it up in front of you, head tilting as you study it. "Really? It's kind of boring."

"Nah," Paige's hands rub up and down your sides, nose nudging against your cheek. "S'my favourite." She punctuates her sentence with a kiss to your jaw. It's seemingly innocent, but you know the girl well enough by now.

You slip out of her grip, dress in hand, before she can try anything, grabbing a pair of white strappy heels as you go.

"I'm gonna get ready in the bathroom," you're heading towards said room before she can stop you. "Reservation is at 8!"

You're sat on the couch, impatiently tapping a heel against the flooring. You tap against your phone screen to check the time for what felt like the hundredth time– you only had five minutes to get to the restaurant. Somehow, Paige always managed to take so long to get ready. You'd tried to get into the bedroom to see what was taking her so long but the door was locked so you were forced to sit and wait for her like her chauffeur.

You're scrolling through TikTok when you hear the lock click on the door. You huff, grabbing your bag from beside you. Standing up, you run a hand down your dress to flatten out any creases and when you look up Paige is stood in the doorway.

She's got her hair slicked back in her classic bun and she's wearing a white shirt with a simple black crop top underneath. The shorts she's wearing are black, too and she's wearing the Nike's you bought for her. She stands in silence, hands tucked into her pockets as she watches you take her all in.

You slink towards her, heels clicking against the tiles. You're aware you're probably staring at her like she's a piece of meat but you can't find it in you to car when she looks this good, plus it's not like she would complain.

"You're late," you hum, pulling her in by the belt loops. "What took you so long?"

She shrugs, opting to not respond. Instead, her hands reach out to rub down your back. "You look..." She pauses, leaning back. Her eyes start from your heels, trailing up your legs. Her gaze pauses on your chest for a second before meeting your eyes. "Really fucking good."

The pink of her tongue darts out to wet her lips as she takes your hand and holds it above your head. "Twirl for me."

You do as she says, giddily spinning in a circle for her. Her teeth pull at her bottom lip as she watches you, the vanilla from your perfume hitting her like some sort of pheromone. You drive her insane.

"You like?"

"You know I like. We're matching."

Before you can respond, the sudden dread of missing your reservation hits you and you're kicked into gear, eyes widening as you cast a glance at your phone in your hand.

"Fuck, we're late!"

You pull Paige by the wrist as you frantically leave the apartment, locking the door behind you and walking as fast as you could in your heels to the restaurant.

Alcohol in Europe is different to the alcohol in America– it's somehow much, much stronger.

You'd had an amazing dinner, followed by some amazing cocktails. What was supposed to only be one or two turned into arguably too many and before you knew it you were both stumbling back to the apartment.

The front door is opened and shut again faster than you can blink and you're pressed against it before your brain can catch up with you. Your head spins a little when you tilt it up to give Paige access to your neck, dazed smile spreading across your lips.

"Mmmm," Paige all but moans against your skin, licking a stripe up your neck. "Tastes good."

"Might be the alcohol." the words leave you lazily, slurred. Paige pulls back to look at you, eyes glazed over.

"Nah, s'all you."

You pull her in with a hand gripping the back of her neck, lips slotting against hers. It's hot, messy- her tongue slides against yours and you taste the alcohol on her breath. Ordinarily, you'd make a joke about her needing to brush her teeth but you're fully aware you're just as bad so you remain silent, just kiss her deeper and softly moan into her mouth.

When you part from each other you're both panting, string of spit separating the two of you. You lick your lips and it breaks, clinging to your bottom lip. Paige's thumb reaches up to wipe it away, pad of her thumb pressing against you. She just stares at you as she swipes the digit across slowly, smudging the remainder of your lip liner down your chin.

"So fucking fine," she murmurs, eyes trained on your lips. Your tongue darts out to lick at her thumb, smirk forming when she lets out a shaky breath. "You tryna kill me?"

"Maybe." you smirk at her, pushing at her shoulders until she stumbles back. You glide past her and head to the lounge, the blonde hot on your heels.

She catches you by the couch, arms caging you in from behind. You let her, of course. The cat and mouse game is usually fun but when you're this desperate, there are plenty other things you'd rather be doing.

"So many rooms to choose from," Paige whispers against the shell of your ear, "So many places to fuck you in."

Your knees almost give out and you're sure they would've if it wasn't for Paige holding you up, her chest pressed tight to your back.

"Could fuck you here," a flick of her head gestures to the couch.

Her hands find your chest, squeezing at your tits through the fabric of your dress. "Or on the counter, on the balcony."

You're abnormally quiet, nodding at whatever she says. She snickers, hands trailing down further until they reach the hem of your dress. Paige knows that when you're speechless, she's doing something right.

"You want that?"

"Yes."

"Which?"

"All of them."

She spins you around and you have to grab onto her to steady yourself. Her cheeks are all flushed and she's clearly just as drunk as you.

"Gonna let me?"

You feel like you're going to cry from how badly you want it.

You nod eagerly, gripping the fabric of her shirt. You want to rip it off of her, lick all over her tan lines and have your way with her but you let her have this one; you can tell she's in the mood to take control and you'd never be one to deny her of that.

She wrestles herself from your tight grip and flops down on the couch, legs spread and arms wide across the back cushions. You're still stood in your spot, hands now awkwardly by your sides as you wait for her to tell you what to do.

"Take it off."

You lean down to slip off your heels but she stops you with a cough.

"Keep 'em on, I meant your dress."

"But-"

"Off, c'mon."

You stand up straight again, gripping the hem of your dress and pulling it up and off your body. It's a bit of a struggle and you stumble around slightly but it eventually slides off of your head. It drops beside you and you're left in a simple matching white set.

Despite the alcohol coursing through your body, you still manage to feel shy under Paige's heavy gaze. She's still sat in the same position, eyes raking over your body.

"C'mere."

You toe towards her with careful steps, nothing but the sound of your heels clicking against the tile and both of your heavy breaths echoing throughout the room. You're standing between her legs, much like you were earlier, and she still doesn't move from her spot, fingers gripping at the cushions of the couch.

Paige’s gaze remains locked on yours, her lips curling into a smirk as she leans back further into the couch, making no move to close the distance between you. Her liquid confidence oozes with the weight of her stare and the longer she waits the more your heartbeat thuds in your ears.

“Closer." she murmurs, her voice low.

You inch forward until your shins hit the leather of the couch. You try to stop your hands from shaking, try to act like this is any other time you've been in this situation but there's something about having the entire space to yourself that makes this feel so different, so intense.

"Do you plan to do this all night, or?" your voice comes out quieter than you'd intended.

She lets out a laugh, arms reaching forward to pull you in by your hips. You fall into her lap, bracing yourself against her shoulders to soften the impact.

"I just like lookin' at you," Paige licks her lips, glossy eyes looking up at you. "So sexy, you know that?" Her left hand smooths up your torso, grips at the fat of your chest and squeezes.

You whimper pathetically at the contact, your hands moving from their spot on her shoulders to her hair. You mess with the hair ties and pull the bun free, fingers brushing through the blonde strands. Paige hisses when your nails scratch against her scalp, hips pushing upwards against your own.

Her right hand slides around your back and she pulls you down until your chests are pressed together. You kiss her, open mouthed and messy as your tongue laps at hers, grinding down against her. The rough metal of her zipper presses against you through the thin material of your underwear and you whimper against her mouth, eyebrows drawing together at the feeling.

Paige's left hand finds home on your ass, squeezing and guiding you to rock against her. You whimper into the kiss as she uses her hold on you to grind you down onto her harder, tongue pushing further into your mouth. You can feel the heat radiating off of her, can smell the scent of the shampoo she used in the shower this afternoon and taste the alcohol on her tongue. You're practically drunk on her let alone the alcohol, and she's definitely drunk on you, too.

You're so caught up in the moment you're not prepared for Paige to flip you around. You let out a small ah! as she does so, head spinning from the sudden movement. Your back is now against the cushions, leather sticking to your sweaty skin. The blonde slips down onto the tiles in front of you, now kneeling between your legs.

"Hold 'em." Paige's hands are at the backs of your knees, pushing them up until they're almost at your chest. The heels of your shoes knock together and it's a reminder that you're actually still wearing them. You do as she says, clammy hands gripped tight over hers. You watch with bated breath as she slips her hands from your grip, thumb coming to press against your clit through your panties. It's a soft touch but it's enough to make you gush again; what was once a thick white material now a glossy, sheer mess.

"Fuck," Paige breathes. She moves her thumb in small, gentle circles around the clothed area. Your head falls back against the cushion of the couch, mouth open in a silent moan. "This all for me?"

"Always," you murmur, licking your lips as you move your heavy head, eyes meeting hers. "It's yours."

"Yeah it is," Paige nods, her voice coming out strained. She moves to slide her hands up the backs of your thighs and hooks both thumbs into your panties, pulling them up and off your legs until they're hanging around your ankle, exposing your pussy. "So good." she purrs, leaning forward to press open mouthed kisses against you. You suck in a breath when her tongue laps up your slit, nails digging into the skin of your thighs.

She moves slowly at first, and for a moment you wonder if it's because of her own drunkenness, but the longer she goes on the more you're reminded of just how good she is at this. You feel like you're going to explode at the slightest touch, every stroke of her tongue against your clit sending shocks of pleasure through your entire body.

"Paige," you moan repeatedly, her name coming out like a prayer. She hums against you, hands pressing against the backs of your thighs to keep you spread open for her.

You gasp at the feeling of her warm, wet muscle pushing past your folds to languidly dip against your entrance. "Oh fuck, fuck- babe."

She's sloppy with it, a mixture of your juices and her spit dripping down between your ass and onto the couch. You'll scold her for doing this here tomorrow but right now it's your last concern.

Your toes curl when she shakes her head against you, tongue flicking against your clit. "Gonna make me cum," the words leave you as a sob, mouth hanging open. You feel the wetness between your thighs increase even more when you hear her moan, the vibrations shooting pleasure straight up your spine. "Feels so good."

Paige's fingers dig harder into the skin of your thighs as she continues to lap at you. She pushes her tongue into you again and then moves upwards, pressing sloppy kisses against your swollen clit.

"Yeah, right there, please-" you choke on your own words, the feeling of her nose brushing against your sensitive skin making you jolt. You can't stop the loud cry that leaves you as she sucks your clit back into her mouth, tongue massaging against it.

The room is spinning and your legs start to cramp from how hard your muscles are tensed, nails almost piercing into your skin when the chord in your stomach suddenly snaps. You're practically crying, eyes rolled back in your head when it hits you. Paige helps you ride it out, keeping you pressed to the couch whilst she drinks up your slick. You're trembling, stomach rippling from the intensity.

You expect Paige to pull away, lean up and give you a messy kiss like she normally would but instead she slides two fingers up and down your pussy, gathering your wetness on the tips before she's pushing them into you.

"Wait," you whimper, feet kicking in the air. "Babe, wait, I just- I'm-"

"You're good," she murmurs, lips brushing against the inside of your thigh as her fingers slowly pump in and out of you. "I got you, just relax."

You mewl, letting her have her way with you. She starts off slow, fingers curling up deep. The sound is obscene, with every flick of her fingers the wet sound fills the air but you feel no shame, if anything it just turns you on more.

Paige definitely feels you flood her fingers because she picks up the pace, thrusting her fingers deeper into you, curling them with each stroke. Your entire body is coated in sweat, droplets beading against your skin. Her other hand moves from its place on your thigh to spread you wider, opening you up to her even more.

It's all too much; the heat, the way you're spread open for her, the pressure building deep in your stomach. She adds a third finger and the stretch makes you sob, legs starting to shake in your grip.

"I can't," the words spill from you, incoherently. "Please, please I can't."

"Shhh," Paige coos, leaning down to kiss the back of your thigh. "You can, gonna make you cum again."

She curls her fingers and the tip of her middle finger brushes against that spot, her palm pressing down against your clit. The feeling is so intense and you can't do anything but whine, thighs shaking around her.

"So good to me," Paige breathes out, heart hammering in her chest. She watches the way your pussy clings to her fingers, the digits now glistening as she pulls them out of you before thrusting back in. "She loves me, hm?"

You nod feebly, tears slipping down your cheeks, head lolling against the cushions of the couch.

Paige is relentless, fucking her fingers into you with such force you can feel the pressure in your ass. Your legs are starting to burn and so are your hips and it feels like a balloon is being blown up in your stomach, pressure becoming harder to ignore with every pump of her fingers.

"M'gonna cum, fuck, Paige-"

You cum for the second time with a broken sob and you hear it before you feel it, the distant sound of a splash against the tiles below you followed by Paige's load groan. It hits you hard, legs quivering as you squirt around her fingers, the wetness coating the floor. She slips her fingers out quick enough for another gush to leave you, trickling down your ass and onto the leather.

She moans, watching it play out in front of her. It's the hottest thing she's ever seen, her fingers now rubbing against your clit in quick motions.

"Again, again."

"Fuck, I can't-"

"Again." she demands but the word leaves her like she's begging, voice a pitch higher.

It's embarrassing how fast the heat builds in your stomach again, and before you can stop it you're squirting all over again, pussy clenching against nothing as you cry out.

Paige leans down, tongue slipping between your folds to drink you up. You're sobbing, trying to get away from her but you can barely move.

"You're okay," Paige mumbles, soothing her hand down your quivering leg. "I got you, s'okay."

A moment passes, Paige's head resting against the back of your thigh as she strokes her soaked hand against the other. You drop your legs ungracefully, stretching your limbs and groaning when your hips and knees crack after being bent for so long.

"That sobered me up." you whisper, heavy eyelids threatening to close. "Did they put viagra in your drink?"

Paige stifles a laugh, her own knees cracking when she stands up. She holds out a hand you to help you up and you take it with a shaky one of your own. You grimace at the feeling of the wet leather sticking to your bare skin, standing up.

"You ruined the couch."

"Says the one who squirted like a fucking firehose." Paige's hand comes up to push the hair from her face, a bead of sweat dripping down her temple. "S'not my fault I do that to you."

You groan, pushing at her shoulder. "Shut up."

Paige laughs and drops her hands to your hips, walking you backwards towards the bedroom. You stumble a little, bambi-like legs struggling in your heels.

"Get on the bed."

You're pushed backwards onto the bed, bouncing slightly when you hit the sheets. Your chest is heaving, heart still thumping wildly in your chest. Paige is climbing over you, caging you in with her arms and legs. Her lips ghost the shell of your ear,

"Still gotta fuck you in here."

She ducks down and connects your lips, teeth knocking against yours as she does so. Her hips grind down against yours and your hands snake under the fabric of her shirt, pushing it off her shoulders. Paige pulls back to shrug it off of her and throw it blindly behind her, reaching back to pull her crop top off in one fluid movement. She's braless, tan lines from her bikini top prominent against her now tanned skin. The sight alone makes you moan.

You both shimmy up the bed, lips still connected, and when the back of your head hits the pillow Paige's lips are on your neck. You sigh, hand smoothing down her back. Her skin is damp and so is yours, the smell of sex filling the air.

"Please, babe," you whimper, fingers pulling at the waistband of her shorts. Paige hums, sitting up to push them down her legs and kick them off.

"Hmm," she murmurs, fingers sliding over your cheek, thumb resting against your bottom lip. You part your lips, tongue swiping out to lick the pad of her thumb. "You gonna do something for me?"

"Anything."

Wordlessly, Paige pulls off her boxers with practiced ease and begins crawling over you. Her hand rests against the headboard as she steadies herself, the other reaching down to cup her pussy. You lick your lips, eyes flickering between hers and her cunt.

"Please," the word is soft, leaving you breathlessly. "I wanna taste you, please."

"Yeah?" she tilts her head, the pad of her index finger sliding up and down her slit. You watch her gather her wetness and then bring it up to her clit, circling the bud. "Wanna make me cum?"

"Please, please." you grip at her thighs, nails digging into her skin. Paige moans at the feeling, her own hand now moving faster against herself. "Wanna make you feel good."

Paige's hand leaves her pussy and she hovers above you, holding onto the headboard. You lift your head and stick your tongue out, eager for her to sit on you. You whine when she hovers her pussy just above your mouth, tongue swiping out to lick against her folds.

"Fuck, yeah," Paige moans, head dropping forward. Her left hand grips the headboard whilst her right holds onto her pussy, spreading herself open for you. "Yeah, good girl."

The praise goes straight to your core and you moan, tongue darting out again. She's finally sat on your face and your head falls back against the pillow, licking at her cunt like a woman starved.

She starts grinding against your tongue, the slick sounds filling the air. You're making a mess of yourself, saliva dribbling down your chin as you lap at her, tongue dipping inside her.

"S'good," Paige pants, grip against the headboard tightening. "Yeah, like that-oh fuck."

Your tongue flicks against her clit, your thighs squeezing together as a you feel your pussy gush just from making her feel good. She's so warm and wet and tastes so good and you can't get enough, tongue lapping at her clit in quick, harsh motions.

"Keep- fuck- keep doing that," her head drops forward and her hips cant, her movements becoming sloppy as she chases her high. "Right there, yes-"

Her legs start shaking, the muscles quivering under your touch and her hand reaches down, smoothing against your hair. Her hips move erratically, chasing her orgasm.

"Oh fuck, m'gonna cum." she pants, a bead of sweat rolling down the valley of her breasts. "Keep- yeah, yeah-"

Paige cries out with a broken moan, her orgasm washing over her. She's shaking all over, groaning as you keep lapping at her clit. You drink her up, moaning against her pussy.

"Please," she begs, her voice high pitched. "Fuck, I can't."

She's cut off by her own sob, eyes rolling back in her head. The room is filled with her moans, the sound bouncing off the walls and mixing with the obscene sounds coming from where your mouth is.

Paige is squirming on top of you, the sensation of overstimulation sending waves of pleasure through her body. Two can play at that game, you think.

"So good to me," Paige manages to choke out between moans, teeth gritted. "My fucking girl, s'so good."

You're drunk off of her, her words of encouragement only spurring you on. You roll your tongue against her clit, nails pressing down harder into her skin. Paige fights against your grip, hips lifting up as she pants heavily, forehead pressed against the wall.

She shakily moves her hips backwards and away from your mouth, now sitting across your hips. You're breathing just as heavily, the room spinning around you. Your chest is heaving and your eyes are half lidded as you stare up at her, lips red and puffy.

"You're so hot," you mumble, eyes drifting across her chest. The words leaving you before you can even process them.

Paige snickers, running a hand through her hair. "I know."

"So fucking annoying."

"You love it."

And well, she's not wrong. You reach up, cupping her tits and giving them a firm squeeze. Her hands reach up to cover yours, leaning into your grip.

"You want it?"

It takes a moment for your brain to catch up and figure out what she's referring to but when she gestures down to her crotch with a nod of her head, the cogs turn into place.

Paige spots the excitement in your eyes because she sniggers, tongue kissing her teeth. "'Course you do."

She clambers off of you, slight wobble in her legs as she does so. The moonlight dances through the room and you can see the sweat beading against her back, muscles rippling when she digs through her suitcase.

When she turns back she's got the harness briefs dangling from her fingers, skin coloured dildo fisted in the other hand. She wiggles her eyebrows at you and you roll your eyes back at her, urging her to get on with it.

She stands at the end of the bed, slipping the boxers over her feet and up her legs. She fits the dildo into place, bottom lip pulled between her teeth in concentration when she fumbles slightly.

You watch her with bated breath, squeezing at your covered tits mindlessly.

"Keep that on," Paige mumbles, nodding towards your bra. She crawls onto the bed, stopping at your feet. "Turn over for me."

You flip over with a groan, using what little strength you had left to keep your chest flat to the mattress, ass high in the air. Just how you know she liked it.

She affirms your thoughts with a soft moan at the sight of you, moving further up the bed. You feel the plastic brush up against you and it makes your thighs twitch, ass jutting up higher for her touch.

Her hands smooth against your ass, squeezing at the fat of it when you back up against her again. "Someone's impatient."

"C'mon." you urge, shaking your ass just enough to get her to fold. It works, of course, because she moans again- deeper this time. She grips the base of the dildo and slides it between your folds, blunt head nudging your clit. You're still soaking wet, the plastic glistening before she's even put it in you.

"Damn," the word leaves Paige automatically, pupils blown out as she admires your mess. "Ask me nicely and I'll put it in."

You groan against the sheets, fits gripping the cotton tightly. "Please, Paigey."

The nickname gets you a harsh slap to the ass, the impact stinging your skin. You suck in a breath through your teeth but the smirk grows across your lips despite it all.

"Fuck me Paigey, please."

"Shut the fuck up."

She slides in with one smooth motion, intrusion bringing your brows up to your hairline. It stings slightly but the familiar is welcomed, comforting almost.

"Gonna fuck you now," Paige's hands smooth down your back, coming to rest at the base of your spine. "Gonna make you fucking cry."

You strain your neck against the bed to get a peek at her and you're not sure you've ever seen her this wound up before- her eyes are wide, a red flush travelling across her chest and up to her cheeks. She's fucked.

Her hips draw back and then slam back into you, the sound of skin on skin deafening you. She's unforgiving, nails digging into your skin as she uses your hips as leverage to fuck into you. She's grunting with each thrust, bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

"Yeah, yeah-" you whine, eyes screwed shut as the blonde ruins you. You can just about hear how wet you are over the sound of her skin smacking against yours, the recognisable squelch of your pussy getting louder when she grants you with another slap to the ass. "You fuck me so go-ood."

"Yeah?" Paige breathes out, slapping your ass again. Her hand tingles from the force but she ignores it, slapping your other ass cheek with the same hand. "Whose pussy is this? Hm?"

You can barely respond, body jostling against the sheets.

"Is it mine, baby?"

You nod against the sheets, helpless.

Another slap.

"Tell me."

"It's yours!" you cry out, fingers practically ripping holes into the sheets. "Yoursyoursyours-"

"Fuck yeah it is."

She pistons in and out of you at an ungodly speed and it makes you dizzy- so dizzy you don't even feel your orgasm approaching until you're on the edge, threatening to tip over.

"Cumming!" is all you can let out, the word caught in your chest as your spine curls inwards, heels kicking up against your girlfriend. It hits you like a truck, legs spasming and arms stretching out against the sheets as you cream against Paige. You see spots in your vision, eyes crossing as the pleasure consumes you. You feel everything, and then all of a sudden- nothing.

"You good princess?"

You crack an eye open to see Paige laying beside you, propped up on an elbow. She's gently stroking your cheek with her thumb, hair now pulled up into a messy bun atop of her head.

"Did I die?"

She snickers, leaning across to press a kiss to your forehead. "I killed that pussy, maybe."

You release the sheets that's still gripped in your hand to shove the blonde back but she just sticks her tongue out at you, reaching behind her for a glass of water left on the bedside drawer.

"Drink some, you need it."

She holds it to your mouth and you chug it down, dry throat welcoming the fluid. "I seriously passed out?"

"Eh," Paige shrugs, rubbing down your back. "You were conscious, just about."

"Wow," you roll onto your front, ache between your thighs making itself evident. "You did a number on me."

"Same again tomorrow?"

Your palm smooshes against her face, pushing her away with a laugh.

"Your turn tomorrow, Bueckers."

[chleem]

Rest of my life

One shot: bf drew x gf yn

Summary: babysitting drew’s niece leads to the realization that you’re the one for him.  

Genre: established relationship, fluff

Warnings: so sweet u get cavities

⋆.˚ please dont copy my work, if inspired please tag me

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Which girl did you knock up?” 

Is the first thing you say upon entering Drew’s apartment, your eyes landing on Drew, who has a baby securely strapped against his stomach in a white carrier, the baby looking over at you with doe eyes. 

Drew freezes for a second, then shakes his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he sets a large bag down on the kitchen table. "Oh, y’know, some girl I met on set."

There’s a reason why you and Drew are perfect for each other; the playful banter comes so naturally between you two that it feels like breathing, like there’s no awkwardness in this situation; finding Drew with a baby you’ve never seen before. 

Although, this baby looks oddly familiar. 

“Remember Lils?” Drew asks, as you walk over to him, setting your own bag on the table as well. 

Your eyes light up at the name, recalling the times Drew would show you pictures of his niece. “Oh hi,” you immediately pitch your voice higher, making it soft and playful. The baby, with her big, curious eyes, reaches out her tiny hand, and before you even know it, she’s grabbing onto your finger. 

Her little grip is surprisingly strong, and you can’t help but smile at how adorable she is. “She grew so big,” you comment, looking up at Drew. 

He’s got a soft smile on his lips. “I’know, and I got her for the whole day.”

Your raise an eyebrow playfully at him, “I thought we’re going to the beach today.”

“Yeah, we are,” he emphasizes on that word, his eyes bouncing back between him and Lil. 

Lil lets go of your hand, so you cross your arms at Drew. You roll your eyes, yet the grin on your face gives away your amusement. “Fine. I won’t rob you of your uncle-niece time.”

A chuckle escapes Drew’s lips, and he brings you closer to him by wrapping an arm around your waist. “Lil says it’s okay for you to be there,” his voice, low and playful, as he plants a kiss on your jaw. “Third wheel, you okay with that?”

“Delightful,” you try to sound annoyed at that idea, but really, you looked forward to it. 

Originally, it was a beach date with Drew, but his sister must’ve had some emergency, leading to the sudden babysit. You had no idea that it was going to turn out like this, but you don’t mind. 

Besides, it gives you a chance to see what uncle Drew is like. 

“Aww, don’t be jealous,” he teases, rubbing your elbow, a habit he’s grown into since knowing you. 

“I could never compete with this girl,” you smile down at Lil, whose lips slowly forms an O. You coo at her, playing with her little adorable fingers.

Drew glances down at his watch, snapping you out of the little world you’ve absorbed yourself with Lil in only a few seconds. “Hotdog stand might close. Let’s go.”

“I’m trying the taco one!” You happily chirp, remembering how the last time you went there, a long argument between the two of you resulted in you getting the pizza flavored hot dog. 

“Alright, alright,” Drew assures, taking both of the bags off the table. 

You make an attempt to grab at least one bag from him, but he declines, carrying it all the way to the car himself. 

——

Unknowingly, the whole day at the beach has passed. 

Drew had been so focused on spending time with his niece, he didn’t even notice the way the sky changed. One moment, they were splashing in the shallow waves, building sandcastles, the next, the sun was dipping low.

He walks back to the beach with hotdogs in his hands; buying the snacks now since the crowd has disappeared. 

He replays scenes of today in his mind, thinking about how easy it’s been today. How effortless it felt, spending time with you and Lil. He’d watched you interact with his niece all afternoon—how you encouraged her to explore the sand, showing her the little crabs skittering along the shoreline etc. 

And now, as he makes his way back, he can’t shake the image of you laughing with Lil, your face lighting up when the baby made a funny sound or reached out for you.

He reaches the blanket that the two of you had spread out earlier on the sand, and he glances over your shoulder, expecting to see you playing with Lil. 

Instead, he freezes. 

There you are, holding his niece in your arms. Lil’s fast asleep, her little body relaxed against your chest. 

Drew’s first thought is how cute his niece is. 

His eyes then drift over to you; And that’s when it hits him.

The realization of this moment, the quiet way you’re holding his baby niece, strikes him. His heart skips a beat as he watches you, a quiet warmth flooding his chest. 

The sight of you with her, so natural, so right, feels more profound than anything he expected.

What is this feeling? He thinks.

He tries to shake it off. It’s not just about Lil. It’s about you, the way you make everything feel so simple, so easy. He never expected to see you like this, to see you so gentle, so present.

Is this what love feels like? He doesn’t know. But in that moment, staring at the two of you, something in him clicks. He doesn’t have a name for it yet, but it’s there—this pull, this feeling that maybe, just maybe, everything he thought he wanted was right here in front of him.

“Drew?” 

Your voice is gentle and soft as you call out for him, afraid to wake the baby up. 

Your gaze meets his, and for a second, the world feels smaller. His heart skips again, mind racing around as he scrambles for words in his mind. 

“Hey,” he manages to breathe out, sitting down beside you. He’s careful with his movements, even when handing you your hotdog to your free hand. His lips curl into a soft smile,  almost shy, “she’s out cold, huh?”

He watches as you completely ignore his words, biting down on the hotdog you’ve been waiting for for the whole day. His smile grows; his mind reminded of how easy it is to be around you. It’s not that you’ve said much or done anything extraordinary—just the way you seem to savor the simple things, like food, time spent together—it draws him in every time.

“Good?” Drew asks, teasing hinted in his voice, yet his eyes soften as he waits for your answer. 

“Strange. The pizza flavor’s better,” you comment through chews. 

Laughter erupts in his chest, making you look confusingly at him. You swallow, looking at him with doe eyes. “Let me take her,” he says, his hands reaching for his niece. 

You let him, mainly because of how hungry you are. The exchange is smooth; he now holds Lil in his arms, and you hold onto the two hotdogs, eating away one of them. 

“Y/n?”

You quickly finish the bite, humming at Drew continue talking. He’s looking at you with a soft gaze, almost smitten. He calls for your name, but doesn’t say anything. 

“You want a bite?” You ask, filling in the silence. 

Drew chuckles, and with his free hand, he pulls you by the back of your neck closer to him. He kisses you, slow and soft. You relax under his touch, letting the warm and bubbly feeling flow through you. 

You eventually pull away, needing to catch your breath. Drew’s lips are apart as he stares at you; the look in his eyes making it hard to steady your heartbeat. 

For seconds that felt like minutes, silence lingers between you two, eyes locked into each others’ as if any move, would disturb the calmness of this moment. 

Well, the moment is disturbed, because the smell of poop enters the air, as well as the sound of crying. 

Lil's awake, and in a stinky emergency.

You’re the first to pull away, chuckling as you glance down at Lil. “Shit.”

“Yup,” he purses his lips. You get ready to put the hotdogs down, wanting to help change her diapers, when Drew stops you. “I’ll do it.”

“Do I even have the appetite anymore?” You joke, the smile reappearing on Drew’s lips after hearing that. 

“When do you not?” He comments, setting Lil down and reaching for the diaper bag. 

You hit his arm playfully again, laughter coming out of you. You turn and look out onto the ocean waves, putting the hotdogs down to the side.

This moment right here? You want to remember it always. Remember this beach, this adorable little baby, this hotdog (just important as everything else), and this man, that you’ve found yourself to rely on more than you should. 

You hope Drew feels the same way too; that this moment right now, will forever be engraved in your heart. 

Little did you know; it's already engraved in his, as the moment he fell in love with you. 

The moment he realized, that you’re who he wants for the rest of his life. 

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

word count: 1.5k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: my first time writing something of pure fluff...hope you enjoyed reading! i was in the mode for something sweet, craving a bf real bad T_T

and yes, im a creep that stalked his sister's ig to find the name of his niece. im sorry im sorry im sorry

[natalievoncatte]

“What if we don’t go back yet?”

It was a peculiar question that Lena asked, but a compelling one. She was currently lying with Kara, or rather *on* Kara, after the Kryptonian caught her once again. Kara had slipped under as she fell and cushioned the fall with her invulnerable body, and they currently lay in the wreckage of a sailboat along the docks, the ruined and smashed vessel bobbing gently in the ocean.

“What do you mean?”

“Alex and the crew can get the guy,” said Lena.

She was referring to the second-rate wannabe villain that had tossed Lena off the roof as a ploy to distract Supergirl and cover his escape. It had worked, of course, with Kara abandoning her manhunt to catch Lena. As she always did. That was apparently why he kidnapped her in the first place instead of, who knows, maybe robbing banks in a town without a superhero.

It didn’t seem to matter much now. Kara was warm and had wrapped them both up in her cape, and Lena’s head lay pillowed on her shoulder. Kara curled around her, breathing gently into the crown of her head.

“Why wouldn’t we go back?”

“I’m tired,” Lena murmured, giving the words more truth than she meant to. She was tired, so tired. She could sleep for a thousand years here, lying with Kara.

This always went the same way. Kara would bear her to safety like a knight in shining armor and set her down and then she’d step back.

The contact would end.

It’s not like they never touched- they hugged and kissed each other on the cheek even, and Lena secretly treasured that, but it wasn’t enough. It was different when Kara rescued her.

If physical touch was Kara’s love language, the way she held Lena after a rescue was a kind of Freudian slip. These embraces were more, just more in a profound, indescribable way.

She was always so tender, after. She would sweep the hair from Lena’s eyes and just touch her for the sake of it, running the pad of her thumb along Lena’s jawline or hugging her extra tight, extra close, fearful and yet utterly fearless.

Much as she was holding Lena now.

“I know,” Kara whispered.

She did know. If there was anyone truly in tune with her needs, it was Kara. Kara cared, so fully, so deeply, so recklessly that Lena could barely understand it, and scarcely believe it.

“I want to stay here with you.”

Kara tensed slightly, throat bobbing as she swallows and her breath caught.

“What I want more than anything is just time to be us,” Lena said, very softly. “You and me. No company, no DEO, no adventures, no crises. I could just lay with you here forever.”

Kara was quiet, gently working her fingers through Lena’s hair.

“I’ve thought about things like that.”

“What sort of things?”

She was quiet for too long a beat, then said, “just us being us, alone. No game night, no movie night, no brunch, no Noonan’s, just this. Just you and me and… and relaxing.”

“Cuddling, you mean.”

Kara shifted herself, gave Lena a little squeeze.

“I don’t want to go either. I don’t want to let go of you.”

Lena opened her eyes and looked at Kara, at her golden hair fanned out around her head and her questioning blue eyes.

“So don’t.”

Gently, carefully, Lena freed an arm and rested a palm against Kara’s cheek. Her skin was always so warm, so lusciously soft. Kara was watching her intently, eyes searching.

“I think it’s customary, after the brave her saves the girl, that the hero gets a kiss.”

Kara tensed, clearly nervous. It was the most adorable thing Lena had ever seen.

She kissed her.

Kara was stone still at first, barely responding, then something seemed to awaken in her and she kissed Lena back, intensely. Lena was a little shocked at the sudden way Kara almost seemed to lunge into her, how her hands suddenly moved and she took Lena by the hips.

It was amazing. Her heart fluttered and her head was swinging and she felt a cold shock-

“Kara! The boat is sinking!”

With the most annoyed sigh, Kara stood and lifted Lena into a bridal carry. Water was gurgling up around them.

“Alex is going to kill me,” said Kara.

“Alex can wait,” said Lena. “Take me home.”

[redroomreflections]

Something With Sea Turtles

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

A Family Of Her Own AU

(Natasha has a secret family)

Summary: Pregnant R and Natasha loves on her.

Natasha is good at many things. Intimidating bad guys, disappearing without a trace, dismantling a firearm in seconds. Painting walls? Well, that’s a skill she’s still figuring out.

She had insisted on painting the nursery walls for the arrival of your little one in a few months. It was supposed to be a nice bonding experience. But, as with most things involving the two of you, it had quickly turned into a bit of a disaster.

"You said this would be easy," You teased from your spot on the floor, perched on a pile of cushions Natasha had painstakingly arranged for your comfort. Your hand rested on your growing belly as you watched her, amusement tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Natasha stood on a step stool, paint roller in hand, squinting at the wall. She was trying her best to create a soft, underwater gradient—blues and greens swirling together like an aquarium, the perfect theme for your baby’s nursery. But the brush strokes were uneven, and there was a smudge where she got a little overzealous with the darker blue.

"It is easy," she replied, her tone stubborn. "I’m just… experimenting with technique."

"Right," You muttered to yourself. "We could just hire someone."

"No!" She exclaimed, then, more gently: "No. I want to do this."

And, honestly, she did. The baby wasn't a shock by any means. Natasha had been dreaming about this day since the first time she fell in love with you. She had planned every detail down to the color of the paint, but when it came time to do the actual painting, she wanted nothing more than to do it herself.

"I know, but we don't even know if our baby will like water or animals..." You reached into your lap to open a bag of chips. "What if they hate all this ocean stuff?"

"If our baby hates all of this ocean stuff, then we'll just paint over it," Natasha lowered her paintbrush to glance back at you. "When did you become such a pessimist?"

"It's called being realistic."

Natasha huffed and dipped the roller in the pan, then continued her work.

"You're supposed to be relaxing."

"I can't relax when I have paint splattered all over my clothes," You gestured to the splotches of green and blue across your sweatshirt. "I'll never get these stains out."

Natasha glanced over her shoulder at you and smiled softly.

"Well, if you remove your clothes, I promise I'll be gentle."

"You're a dork," You chuckled. "And I'm not stripping in front of the baby."

"The baby's not even born yet."

"Still."

"Fine, then how about I strip for you," Natasha wiggled her hips and hummed playfully. "How's that for relaxation?"

"Tempting, but maybe you should finish the wall before we do anything else," You said. You looked down at the sweater to tug it over your belly. It seemed a bit tight these days. "Do you think I'm getting too big for this?"

"Your shirt?"

"Yeah, I mean... I feel like my stomach is stretching the fabric."

"Hmmm," Natasha mused. "Well, I'd say it looks pretty good."

"Good?"

"Perfect," She smiled to herself. "Absolutely perfect."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Of course."

"You're not lying to me right?" You tilted your head.

"When have I ever lied to you, Y/n?"

"A bunch of times actually," You raised a brow. "I was your superior."

"That doesn't count. Besides, it's my job."

"Your job is to tell me the truth," You sighed. "Do my boobs look too huge?"

"What? No!" She turned on the stool, her brows furrowed in confusion.

"But I've grown a size," You frowned, running a hand over your breasts. "You should be telling me to cover up."

"Are you crazy?" She asked, her eyes wide. "Y/n, you're carrying our child; I think you're allowed to dress comfortably. Also, I'm not complaining about your breast size."

"Yeah, but—"

"Listen," She set the paint roller down and stepped off the stool, "You're beautiful. Okay? And your tits are a part of that. You know, they're like an extra gift from the universe."

"Extra gift?"

"Like I'm already grateful for our baby," She said. "But then, your boobs get bigger, and, you know, I'm a very appreciative person."

"You won't be able to touch them for a while," You reminded her.

"I'm willing to wait."

"And I'm going to have stretch marks."

"So?"

"And my stomach will look weird and puffy," You sighed. "I mean, it's not going to go away."

"I don't care," she said. "Y/n, none of that matters. You're giving us a baby."

You were about to make a joke about how much it would probably hurt to push something the size of a melon out of your vagina, but when you saw the look in her eyes, your smile faded. She was so earnest, and suddenly, you felt guilty for not appreciating everything she was saying.

"Sorry," You said.

"For what?"

"Not listening to you," You shrugged.

"Don't apologize," Natasha walked toward you, then knelt beside your spot on the pillows. "I get it. There are days when I feel like I'm losing my mind. But, no matter what, you'll always be my favorite thing to look at."

"Nat," You grinned.

"Seriously," She smiled back. "And I'm gonna tell you that every single day until the end of time."

"Well, you'll be busy painting."

"Then, I'll paint it on the wall," She winked.

"God, I love you," You murmured, leaning forward to kiss her.

"Love you too," She replied, her breath warm against your lips. "Both of you."

"Now, go back to painting before you ruin it." You gestured. "I can kind of see the vision for the whale."

"See? That's what I'm talking about. I'm making art."

"Do you mind taking a breath to come rub this on my belly?" You gestured to the container of cocoa butter next to you.

"Of course," Natasha grabbed the tube, and unscrewed the cap. Then, she squeezed a generous amount onto her palm and set the bottle aside.

"You know," She began, "what you said earlier. I hope you don't believe that about yourself. That I won't find you attractive."

"No, I don't, not really," You shrugged. "It's just hard sometimes. My brain goes all crazy and my hormones are making me all weepy. But, I have you. And, you're not going anywhere, right?"

"Of course not."

"Good," You murmured. "'Cause I don't think I'd last long without you."

"Don't say that," She said, her voice quiet.

"Sorry."

"Stop apologizing," She scolded. "You'll be fine. I'll be fine. Everything will be fine. Now, can we focus on the positive? Like, for example, the fact that you're pregnant."

"I am pregnant."

"You are." She rested her hands on your belly. She began to rub the cocoa butter in circular motions against your skin. "You look so good like this."

"Really?"

"Yeah," She smiled, looking down at her hands pressing against the curve of your abdomen. She was so gentle with the bump. "This is exactly what I always imagined."

"What did you imagine?"

"A cute wife who was carrying my child," She smirked. "I guess I've always had a fantasy about having a family of my own."

"Well, you're living the dream." You grinned at her. For a second there wasn't much talking until you felt a slight movement inside of you. "She's awake."

"Really?" Natasha looked down.

"Yeah," You said. "Can you feel her?"

"Um, well," Natasha hesitated. "I mean, not really."

"Here," You reached down and took her hand, guiding it a bit further up your belly. "There. Do you feel that?"

"I—" Natasha paused, and then, she felt it, a faint movement against her hand. "Yeah?"

"Whenever you're near she gets to moving," You point out. "I think she recognizes your voice already."

A soft, surprised laugh escaped Natasha’s lips as she watched her hand rest against your belly, her expression melting into something softer than usual. She didn't pull her hand away. Instead, she let it linger, her thumb tracing circles on your skin.

"I think she’s already got me wrapped around her finger," she murmured, her voice full of affection and wonder. "Just like her mother."

"That's how it starts."

"Oh, is that a warning?"

"Yes."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." She leaned forward to kiss your belly. Then, she rested her cheek against your skin. "I couldn't be any happier than in this moment."

"That's good," You brushed her hair from her forehead, stroking her scalp gently. "But, just so you know, when I'm back on my feet, I'm kicking your ass for making me paint a sea turtle."

"Hey," she said, her tone playful. "You're the one who agreed to help."

"I regret everything."

[strnilolover]

Matt and Chris taking care of adhd!reader when she’s rlly active and bouncy and they struggle as she’s not listening

Matt …

Matt loved your energy — on most days, it was one of his favorite things about you. You could make even the dullest moments feel exciting. But tonight? Tonight was on a whole new level. It was like you’d had five shots of espresso and the energy of an entire marching band.

“Babe,” Matt called softly, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, watching you dart from one corner of the room to the other. You were currently reorganizing the spice rack for the third time, narrating your choices like a dramatic cooking show host.

“Paprika here, cinnamon there… Matt, do you even know how much cinnamon we have? So much cinnamon! Wait — oh my god, do we have nutmeg? We do, right? Should I bake something? Cookies! Cookies sound amazing. Do you want cookies? I’m gonna bake cookies.” you rambled as your hands searched the rack for said nutmeg.

Matt leaned against the counter, arms crossed, trying not to laugh. “Sweetheart, it’s 11 PM. The cookies can wait until tomorrow.” he said, hoping to try and redirect you from the chaos you were creating in the midst of trying to “rearrange things”.

“Tomorrow? No! Tomorrow is just… future today. We don’t wait for future today! That’s boring.” You bounced on your toes, spinning to face him, your hands gesturing wildly.

Matt stepped forward before you could bolt again, gently catching you by the waist. His touch was firm but light. “Hey, hey. Slow down for a second, alright? Look at me.” Your eyes flicked to his, wide and sparkling with excitement. “Okay, I’m looking, but you’ve got two seconds. Two seconds, that’s all you get.” you said, already itching to make the cookies you were talking about.

Matt chuckled, taking you and guiding you toward the couch. “Deal. Two seconds. Let’s just sit down for a minute, yeah?” You pouted but let him lead you, your hands still fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie. “But I’m not tired, Matt. I need to do something.” you stated, his hands guiding you to sit down.

“I know, babe. I know. But you’re running in circles, and you’re gonna burn yourself out,” he said gently, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face as you reluctantly sat. “Here’s the plan: We’re gonna breathe. Just breathe with me for a second.” He exaggerated a slow inhale and exhale, making it impossible not to copy him.

After a few rounds, Matt turned on your favorite show, one you always found comforting and familiar. “Let’s watch this for a bit. If you’re still bouncing after one episode, then we’ll bake cookies. Sound good?”

You hesitated, your body practically vibrating with pent-up energy. But the way Matt looked at you — calm, patient, and just a little tired — made you soften. “Fine.“

He smiled, draping an arm around your shoulders to keep you close. He kissed your temple as you fidgeted with the blanket.

By the time the episode ended, your head was resting on his shoulder, your eyes drooping shut. Matt glanced down, a soft smile spreading across his face. “Guess the cookies can wait after all,” he whispered to himself, pulling the blanket up over you and turning the TV off. He stayed there with you, his own eyes drifting shut.

Chris …

Chris isn’t as naturally patient as Matt. He loved you, of course, but when you got in one of your super active, can’t-sit-still moods, it was like wrangling a hyper puppy — and Chris was not good at wrangling.

“Angel, please just sit down for a second,” Chris groaned, watching you dart around the living room. You were carrying random knickknacks, moving them from one shelf to another like some sort of chaotic interior decorator.

“But I have so much to do,” you sang, spinning in place as you inspected a framed photo. “Do you think this would look better here? Or — oh my god, wait. What if we moved the couch? Do you think we should rearrange the whole living room?” Chris blinked at you, jaw slack. “The whole living room? It’s almost midnight, babe.” he muttered, his hand rubbing his temple.

“Exactly! That’s the perfect time. It’s quiet. No distractions. We can focus!” You clapped your hands, already eyeing the furniture. Chris groaned, running a hand down his face now. “You’re killing me, darling. Killing me.”

But you weren’t listening anymore, your mind already racing to the next task. Chris watched as you buzzed around the room, trying not to smile despite his frustration. You were too cute for your own good.

Finally, he sighed, stepping forward and scooping you up mid-spin. You let out a squeal as he tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of flour. “Chris!” you laughed, kicking your legs. “Put me down! I’m busy!”

“Nope,” he said simply, carrying you over to the couch. He plopped down, keeping you firmly in his lap and wrapping his arms around you like a human seatbelt. “You’re staying right here, angel.”

You squirmed, trying to wriggle free. “You’re so mean! I was just trying to be productive!” Chris smirked, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Maybe. But you’re running around like a maniac, and you need to chill. So, congratulations, you’re officially stuck with me.”

You huffed, your pout still in place as you leaned back against his chest. For a while, you fidgeted with the strings of your hoodie, your fingers tapping against his leg. “Fine. But I’m still thinking about where to put that picture frame.”

Chris chuckled, letting his head rest against yours. “Of course you are.” He paused, an idea lighting up his face. “Alright, here’s the deal: Tomorrow, we’ll rearrange the living room together. But right now, we’re chilling.”

Your pout softened into a small smile as you tilted your head to look up at him. “You’d really help me?”

Chris grinned, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “Always, angel. Even if it means moving the couch ten times until it’s perfect.” You beamed at him, and Chris swore it made the late-night chaos worth it.

© strnilolover

[glitterymarshmellowfem]

You rented a cabin for Thanksgiving. It snowed the day b4 you arrived, but no problem for your all-terrain monster truck. As you parked in front of the cabin and were carrying in food supplies, you thought, ahh, just me. Peace and quiet. You opened the door≥ and was met inside by a pink clad snow bunny. She took the bags and said you go get the rest, I'll store these. You were speechless, but you thought you'd ask questions after getting all your supplies in as it was getting in the low teens and starting to snow.

You brought in the last bag. You stood there admiring her svelte lithe body. When she had put everything away, she took you over by the warm cozy fire she had made, took off your boots, massaged your feet with her feminine hands. You could get used to that. Went to the kitchen and brought back two mugs of hot chocolate with whip cream and sprinkles, just the way you liked it. She sat close next to you with her feet tucked under her bottom, took a sip and told you to drink it b4 it gets cold. You did. It was the best you'd ever tasted. You took another sip and then you decided it was time for answers.

You put your mug on the conffee table, she did likewise then she got up, turned around so her sweet ass was inches from your face, and curled up on your lap, giving you a sweet kiss on your lips and then laid her head on your chest and breathed out contentedly. You smelled the scent of her hair and it was a pleasant floral scent. She raised her head and asked you if everything was to your satisfaction. Then all your questions came tumbling out. Who, what, where, when and how? "Mac sweetie, didn't you read the contract" she said with a cute questioning look? Only two close friends called you Mac, short for MacGregor, your last name.

You admitted to her you just skimmed it and paid. She explained: "Mac darling I'm your snow bunny, I come with this cabin. I cook, clean, frolic with you in the snow, whatever you desire". You asked important questions like, "this is a one bedroom cabin, where do you sleep?" She giggled, "with you silly." You got a devilish look on your face and said, "can we have sex?" "Mac, I expect by Thanksgiving when you are enjoying my roast turkey, dressing and Swedish mother's pumpkin pie, that all of my holes will have been well used. BTW, my name is Inge, and from the feel of your cock under me, you are already warming to the idea of fucking Inge's ass. So let's not delay. Follow me to the bedroom where we can fuck like bunny rabbits."

Saturday Mornings Are “Me-Time!” 💋💋💋

[mythalism]

another thing i love, but this one is controversial, is the portrayal of the inquisitor. NOT their tiny insignificant role in the game until the 11th hour while they send us weirdly formal and deeply out of character letters but the actual dialogue from my lavellan and the way she carries herself in the scenes we do see of her (though there should have been more, without a doubt) is actually my favorite part of the game probably. i know this is maybe a very solavellan inquisitor exclusive experience and also just dumb luck that the way they wrote her in this game fits my lavellan but holy shit im so obsessed with it. its not even how i imagined how she would behave but its even better? the way they managed to convey her growth and maturity after 10 years literally floored me, and yet she still maintains this wistfulness that feels so incredibly right. the way she speaks with such confidence and conviction in her conversation with rook about her relationship with solas and then suddenly dissolves into pauses and stutters and “i don’t know”s when confronted with the possibility that there might actually be a future for them is INSANE. “or maybe I’m the prideful one, imagining his broken heart so that I don’t have to face my folly. that i loved someone who made such grave mistakes. that I might love him still” IS THE BEST LINE IN THE ENTIRE GAME. TO ME. IM SO SERIOUS. i watched that scene over and over and over and over again. the way she sits rook down and demands they tell her what solas did at the ritual with such authority but also the faintest glimmer of naive, foolish hope in her eyes that he might be salvageable is so sickening, and the way she turns it around on rook in the end to playfully ask about their love life. it’s like watching The Inquisitor switch turn off mid conversation. and there she is!!! that’s her!!!! of course she would ask rook about their lover of course she would she fell in love during the end of the world too!!! the several knowing looks shared between her and morrigan (“speaking from the heart, inquisitor?”) that imply a much deeper friendship has blossomed since we last saw them. her one little line with dorian - “something like that”. even the way she quietly sneaks into the throne room at the end, completely alone, as if she snuck away from the rest holed up below the archons palace. “even if those you have wronged asked you to stop?” the pained look on her face. the way she gets on her knees to look him in the eye. the way she speaks in elvhen, the implication that she has been studying it over the past 10 years. the fact that she does not touch him until after he takes her hands. literally every second of it is so good. it feels so so so right to me. it’s honestly as if, because my inquisitor has grown older than me by almost a decade, it was hard for me to imagine what she’d be like in her mid-30s, after so many hard years of grief and loneliness and the burdens of leadership. and the writers were just like “it’s okay, here, this is what she would be like after all this time”, AND THEY WERE RIGHT!? and it’s so subtle but it’s literally spot-on. it feels like the most natural progression of who she was. a little bit more sad, a bit more quiet, her words are more measured, no more snarky one liners (and maybe that’s why I love it so much- it’s such a refreshing change from listening to rook talk like they’re on Disney channel), there is a weight to her words and her presence that conveys her age and experience so clearly to me. veilguard made me love my inquisitor so much more. it has made me understand her so much more. it has clarified who she was in inquisition in the context of who she becomes later. im so obsessed with it im SO OBSESSED WITH HER!!!

[al0velyuniverse]

Body Shots Pt.2

The long awaited part two, I kinda got carried away with this one... Please enjoy :)

●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●

Pt.1 | Pt.2 |

CW: Drinking (duh), Simon lends you to Gaz (consensually), semi-public sex, mutual masturbation

The second time you suggested body shots was in a crowded and busy bar, Simon’s favorite. 

One of Simon’s hands rested on your thigh while the other held his glass. The team had just come back from assignment and they were celebrating Gaz for something he had done. It wasn’t entirely explained to you, all you knew was what Simon told you “We’re celebratin’ Garrick and he requested your presence Dove…wear somethin’ low cut… ‘e likes the view.” So you put on your lowest cut top (it was practically a bralette, no bra needed), your favorite mini skirt, and happily accompanied him to the bar. You were keenly aware of the way Gaz couldn’t stop staring at your chest, it was like you were the only worthwhile thing to look at. You gave Simon a kiss on the cheek and told him you were going to grab another drink from the bar, you did your best to slide out of the booth with grace and tried not to smile at the fact that you knew they were all watching your ass as you moved. When you came back Johnny was the first to notice what you were carrying to the table: a shot glass filled  with a chilled amber liquid. He nudged Gaz with the least amount of subtlety you’ve ever seen him exhibit. You rolled your eyes with a smile “get up Johnny, this isn’t for you.” As soon as he stood up you took his place on the booth next to Gaz and he took the spot you had previously occupied. 

You gently placed the glass on the table while you got yourself situated. You adjusted your top just a little bit, noticing Simon giving you a smirk when he realized how Gaz would be taking this shot. You could practically hear Gaz’s heart beating out of his chest when took his hand and placed each one on either side of your chest, encouraging a tight hold to keep them together. He gave you the slightest look of confusion at the action “we’re celebrating you aren’t we?” You have to suppress a laugh when you see Gaz look over to Simon, terrified that your boyfriend would look like he was going to kill him. All he got was a ‘go ahead’ gesture which was all the two of you needed. All eyes were on you as you grabbed the shot glass and carefully poured the liquid onto your chest, watching it pool between your tits. With only a second of hesitation Gaz dipped his head down and began to messily slurp the liquid best he could, the feeling of his lips and tongue against your skin sent chills down your spine. Somewhere to the side you hear Johnny whining followed by a thud and “shut it Mactavish, you’ll get your turn” When Gaz had drunk up the shot and sat back up properly he looked crazed, like he wanted to pounce on you right then and there. You and Simon shared a knowing glance like it was an unspoken conversation between you two, him telling you exactly what to do without even saying a word. 

You stepped out of the booth and reached for Gaz’s hand “c’mon.” Your smile was sweet and unassuming when he took your hand and stood up with you. You leaned up for a moment to place a kiss on Gaz’s lips, the taste of liquor still prevalent “let’s go celebrate you.” As you pulled a stunned Gaz behind you Simon had to practically restrain a whining Johnny from getting up and following the pair of you. “S’not fair! Come on L.T.” Simon did not give him a response, just handed him a beer the way you’d give milk to a child to placate it. You should have noticed Price's eyes practically burning holes into you, it was the same way he stared the first time when you licked salt off of your boyfriend. It was a look that told you that you were walking a dangerous line, a look that told you the second he had the chance he was going to eat you alive. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t notice the look at all.

The whining Scotsman was barely registering in your brain as you walked away and pulled Gaz into the bathroom with you. He made sure the lock was done properly, couldn’t have anyone coming in to stop the fun. You didn’t even have to tell him what to do, Gaz was already planting sloppy kisses along your chest and desperately trying to pull your top off, or to the side, or something, anything to give him better access to the tits he’d been staring at and fantasizing about all night. His attempts were messy and uncoordinated, almost feral. “Careful, you’ll rip it” you uttered with a breathy laugh, trying not to lose your composure totally just yet. “Don’t care” Gaz’s voice was muffled, seeing as his mouth was in a similar spot that it had been when he had taken the shot. In an attempt to make sure the man didn’t rip your favorite shirt to shreds you pushed him back slightly to slide it off over your head. As soon as he had unlimited access you could feel Gaz’s mouth latch to one of your nipples, tongue and teeth playing rough with the sensitive flesh. The sensation caused a whimper to escape from your lips.

It wasn’t long before the man was grinding his hips against you like a dog in heat, desperation evident in his unsteady jerking movements. In an attempt to help him out you reached your hand down to palm him over his jeans, trying to give him any sort of assistance that you could. One of Gaz’s hands was immediately on yours, guiding you to undo the zipper to his jeans and pulling his pants and boxers down just enough to let his aching cock spring free. His lips moved to yours while you reached down to take him into your hand properly, in reaction he let out a soft groan into your mouth and gently pushed your back against the wall. Gaz rutted into your hand in an attempt to match your movements, you made special care to gather as much of the pre-cum leaking from his tip as you could to use as makeshift lube. You leaned your head back against the wall as Gaz’s lips moved from yours to your jaw, then down to your neck and chest. As if in perfect sync with his lips you could feel his hand move down to push your skirt up, exposing your cunt leaking through the thin fabric of your thong. His fingers pushed the flimsy fabric to the side to dip his fingers between your folds, he dragged his down wet fingers up to circle your clit, sending a rush up pleasure through your body. 

Gaz’s lips refused to give up, kissing and sucking at your neck and chest, offering the occasional bite to your soft skin that was sure to leave a mark. He pulled back for only a moment to watch the way your mouth hung up in whiney breaths as he rubbed your sensitive nub. You watch his face contort into a smirk and before you could process the implications you could feel his finger pressing into your hole, it wasn’t the biggest stretch you’d ever had of course but you were so worked up at this point your eyes practically rolled back into your head. “Oh fuck…well ain’t that just the prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen…” after a moment he slowly work a second finger into you and your hands movement faltered. Gaz’s free hand was quickly over yours and he was helping you get him off “oh come on pretty thing, don’t give up on me now” he cooed softly. Once he was satisfied with your return to properly getting him off Gaz’s mouth moved back up to your chest his tongue circling and playing with one nipple while his hand played with the other. You could feel him all over you, in any spot you could be sensitive he was there, it was dizzying and overwhelming in the most delicious way. 

You were getting close, and Gaz could tell. His fingers curled up and stroked that spongy spot that made you a little crazy, his thumb now added to the pleasure however, circling your clit in time with the thrust of his fingers. You could feel the coil tightening and just begging to snap, your hips betraying you by grinding into his hand in desperate unsteady movement. His teeth grazed against your nipple, biting down a little harshly. You moved your own hand in increasingly intense movements the closer you got. “Fuck, fuck Gaz im gonna…” he leaned down and kissed you softly “go ‘head pretty girl, cum for me. Wanna feel you fall apart on my fingers.” You didn’t need much more encouragement than that before you did just that, Gaz continued to move his fingers to help you ride out your orgasm. “There you go…that’s it, such a good girl f’me” Your breathing was staggering as you attempted to calm yourself down and continue your hands movement, wanting to get him off as well. You watched Gaz pull his fingers out of you and immediately place them in his mouth, his tongue swirling around your fingers with an obscene moan. 

Before you could process what was happening Gaz was pushing you down to your knees “wanna cum on those perfect fuckin tits pretty girl.” His hand overlapped yours and the two of you jerked him off together, moans and whines slipping through the man's lips as his hips thrusted against your hands. You leaned up the best you could to put your mouth around his tip, letting your tongue swirl around it and giving him plenty of attention. That seemed to be the man's tipping point because your head was quickly being yanked back as hot white ropes of cum shot out of his cock onto your chest. When he was finished you both sat there for a moment, catching your breath and attempting to calm yourselves down. 

Once you had both settled Gaz lifted you off of your knees and into the bathroom counter. You watched as he grabbed a paper towel and wet it with warm water. “Sorry for makin’ such a mess, you just…christ you’re fuckin stunnin’ you know that” You let out a small laugh as he gently wiped his cum off of your chest, taking care to be soft with you, it felt nice letting him take care of you like this. Once he was Satisfied Gaz took a moment to step back and examine you “think Ghost is gonna kill me when he sees these hickeys?” The statement was accompanied by a laugh that he tried to play off as casual, but you could hear the slight anxiety behind it. Your boyfriend’s possessive nature was never really a secret and you both knew that. “Not sure he would have let us disappear like this is he wasn’t expecting a few hickeys you know?” Gaz helped you put your shirt back on and readjust your skirt, you could feel yourself dripping down your thighs a little.

When the two of you finally wandered back to the table you were met with an incredibly drunk Johnny, leaning fully against your boyfriend and ranting about something with such a thick accent there was no way any of you could understand him. He jumped up at the sight of you “aye! Bonnie lass, whensit gonna be mahturn with ya right stunning self eh?” The slurred words made you laugh and place a soft kiss on his cheek “I dunno Johnny, gonna have to take that one up with the boss” you say, gesturing to Simon who was staring you down with such an intensity that made you squirm. Johnny moved so you could sit down next to your boyfriend, he moved on to pestering Gaz to tell him about what exactly happened in the bathroom with you two. Simon’s arm was around you the second you were by his side and he was placing a kiss to your jaw “have fun love?” His voice was low, clearly wanting to keep the conversation between you two “I did, and so did your boy” your response made him laugh “I can tell, he left quite a few marks on ya dove. Gonna have to leave a few of my own when we get home don’t you think?” Your response came in the form of a gentle kiss to his lips and a soft “we can do whatever you want when we get home Si” 

The five of you continued to drink and celebrate, Johnny and Gaz getting more boisterous the more they drank which provided you and Simon with plenty of entertainment. Your eyes did a scan of the group: Simon was watching the two clowns across the table from you two, Johnny and Gaz were talking about something borderline incomprehensible that only the two of them seemed to understand. Your heart skipped a beat when you turned slightly to face Price. Your eyes locked and you saw a dark intensity swirl in his eyes, helooked hungry. Like the only thing he wanted in that moment was to bend you over the table and let everyone watch him fuck you to tears. He was jealous. He wanted his turn just as much as Johnny did. Something in your gut told you that when he did he might just break you. You went to turn your head away when you suddenly felt Simon's hand grasp your jaw, keeping you in place, keeping you staring at price. Your eyes glanced up at your boyfriend the best they could, his own expression matching Price’s. Your Stomach twisted in knots when you realized: Price was going to break you, and Simon was going to happily let him.

You couldn’t help but feel excited. 

[angelltheninth]

Gentle Prince

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, cuddlefucking, aftercare, cockwarming, breeding kink, marks, creampie, caring!Daemon, husband!Daemon

Word count: 0.6k

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: It's gonna be nothing but smut these next few days I'm afraid.

His breath is still hot against your ear, his grunts sending more tingles down your spine as his hands finally loosen their hold on your hips. He pulls away, his forehead briefly leaning against yours, "I'm afraid I got a little carried away with you darling. How do you feel?" His eyes are still almost entirely backed out, his lips grazing your own, almost making you want more.

You would take more if you could. "Tired." You breathe out a sigh, "I think we both got carried away. I can't even move. My body feels so heavy. But it's a good kind." Daemon huffs out a lough as he leans down a kisses your cheek.

You feel him shifting on top of you and instinctively wrap your legs around him. The fact that you did it so easily, without him even asking just goes to show how used you are to doing so.

"It's alright sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay right here. Inside you where I belong." He jolts his hips into you, making you gasp from how overstimulated you are, "Where my cum belongs."

You tighten around him, just thinking about feeling so full for the rest of the night makes your head spin and your body light up from the inside all over again. "Then maybe you should stay put, my prince."

"I plan to. But that doesn't mean my hands or mouth have to be. I have much to make up for. All these bruises and marks on you, someone has to kiss them better. It's my job as your husband to take care of you after all." He leans down and kisses the bite mark on your neck as his hands smooth over your bruised hips, down to massage your tense thighs, "To worship you."

For a few minutes you allow your body to relax, to enjoy the soft kisses and touches. The way he touches you now is so different from before. He was almost feral, rutting into you, telling you how good you look underneath him, full of his cock, how well he did to chose you, how good you are at taking his seed, how pretty you'll look when you're properly breed by him, cum spilling out everywhere between your trembling legs.

He treated you like he wanted to break you in half. And now he's being so gentle, the only evidence of the wild lovemaking being the marks he left, the warm cum filling up your pussy hole and the messy sheets and pillows.

"Darling... hm... you're going to get me hard again if you keep fluttering around me like that. Are you that insatiable?" You can hear the strain, as well as the slight anticipation in Daemon's voice. And if the slight throb of his dick is anything to go by he wouldn't mind going again either.

"Me? I was not the one who fucked the other back into consciousness. Do you have any idea what that feels like? How long was I out for anyways?" Daemon tilts his head a little, his damp hair falling over his forehead before you run your fingers through it.

"Thank you love." He closes his eyes, enjoying the warmth and comfort of your touch, "To answer your questions, you were out for a very short time. I barely had the time to get myself hard again. And no, I cannot say I've ever been fucked back into consciousness. Perhaps we should try it sometime, if you think you think you can make me black out that is."

You smirk and run your hands down his back, making him his as you press the pads of your fingers across the scratch marks you made there, "I'm always up for a challenge."

Daemon smiles, not grins but smiles, so soft and bright that one would not think him capable of it just going off rumors of him. You certainly didn't see him capable of such soft gestured when you first met. You've very glad that you decided to stick around to find out about them.

[calicomarie11]

WIP Wednesday

Tommy heard a knock at the door and frowned. He didn’t have any plans tonight. Originally, he and Evan were going to host a game night and after the break up he couldn’t bring himself to make alternate arrangements. His only plans for the night were demolishing a pizza and six-pack while watching whatever sporting event he could find on tv.

He opened the door and watched in confusion as Evan pushed past him, followed by Hen and Eddie. They were carrying cases of beer, bags clinking with bottles and rustling with chips. They flowed into the kitchen, chatting with each other and completely ignoring Tommy’s outraged huff.

He followed them, watching as they started putting the beer in the fridge, Evan pulling out serving bowls for the chips and Eddie being trusted to open the dips.

“What the hell do you think you all are doing?” Tommy spluttered out.

“Setting up for game night,” Evan answered with a cheeky grin.

“I assumed that was canceled, given the fact that we broke up,” Tommy said firmly.

“Except we didn’t break up and we were not about to give up on everyone being off tonight with a day off tomorrow. It took too long to get this scheduled to cancel it,” Evan said as he continued to arrange cheese, meat and crackers on Tommy’s charcuterie board. A board Tommy only had because Evan had brought it over the first time they hosted game night and had never taken it back.

“Buck, you can’t just invade my house like this,” Tommy protested. “I might have had plans.”

The look Evan shot him was equal parts unimpressed and sardonic. “Do you?”

“Well, no. But still…” Tommy trailed off.

“Then go change out of your sweats and make yourself pretty. The rest of the guests will be here any minute.” Evan shooed him out of his kitchen and Tommy went, confused and off balance.

He walked to his bedroom on auto-pilot and grabbed a pair of jeans and a navy Henley from his drawers. He changed and wandered out of his bedroom to the sound of laughter and chatting.

Entering his living room he saw that Lucy and Nick had arrived to complete the party. He was glad that Nick was there, as the person he counted on to be in his corner, and Lucy as his closest co-worker. Even if she did know the 118 from before, they had bonded when she started at Harbor.

Nick was the only one there he could count on to be wholly his friend. They had met when Tommy was newly out and trying to navigate the intense dynamics of the LA gay scene. They’d met through Grindr and Nick had clocked him right away as being new. To his credit, instead of shutting him down, he’d offered to help. In a lot of ways, Tommy had Nick to thank for helping him bridge the gap between knowing who he was and acting on it.

He can see from Nick’s quirked eyebrow that he has questions about the whole situation they’ve landed themselves in and as the only person there who knows the full story from Tommy’s side he really wants to sidebar with him as soon as possible.

Nick, to his credit, heads straight for him, but he is distracted by Evan clapping his hands as soon as he sees Tommy entering the room.

“Alright everyone. Thanks for joining us for game night,” Evan shouted, even though everyone had fallen silent as soon as he clapped. “The first game for tonight is Never Have I Ever.”

There was a mix of groans and cheers from the group.Lucy looked too excited by the announcement and Tommy frowned at her.

“Everyone grab a beer and a shot glass and head into the living room.” Evan moved to the fridge to start distributing beers while the rest of the group picked up the snacks and left to get settled. Tommy waited until they were alone before going up to Evan.

“What are you trying to accomplish here?” Tommy asked, trying to sound stern but mostly sounding bewildered.

Evan looked at him and sighed. “After the Abby bombshell, I realized we had never really talked about our past relationships and experiences and we both might have some misconceptions about where the other is coming from.”

“And you thinking playing Never Have I Ever with our friends is going help with that?”

“Sure. They already know our deep dark secrets and most embarrassing stories and will keep us accountable.” Evan shrugged, like the prospect of admitting to the shit he’d gotten up in the past wasn’t terrifying.

Evan handed Tommy a can of his favorite IPA and grabbed a cider for himself. Shutting the fridge he reached down to circle Tommy’s wrist and tug him into the living room.

Tommy took his usual seat on the couch and Evan settled on the floor on the other side of the coffee table. The rest of the group was distributed around the room.

Evan started talking again. “If it’s been a few years since you played, here are the rules. Each person will give a statement and if you have done the thing, then you take a drink. If you haven’t then you don’t get to drink. For the first round, we’re doing shots, but after that you can choose a shot or a sip.”

Evan filled six shot glasses with tequila and passed them out. “I’ll start. Never have I ever broken up with someone I could actually see a future with.”

Evan’s eyes bored into him after that statement and Tommy had a decision to make. Was he going to be honest going into this game, or was he going to keep hiding things from everyone.

Fuck it. If Evan wanted to play, they would play. He took his shot, only wincing a little as the tequila went down. From the corner of his eye he noticed Nick and Hen also taking their shots. It was nice to know he wasn’t the only one with a habit of blowing up his life.

Lucy chimed in next and from the wicked glance she threw at Even, he knew this one was targeted. “Never have I ever cheated on a partner.”

Once again, Hen took a shot. Evan and Eddie clinked their shot glasses together before throwing them back. Evan turned to glare at Lucy and gestured at her. She just laughed and said “I wasn’t the one cheating, so I don’t have to do shit.”

“Rude,” Evan said, pouting.

Tommy’s eyes darted between Evan and Lucy, his brow furrowed. Lucy laughed as she smacked Evan on the shoulder.

“You never told him about that night at the bar?” she teased.

Evan glanced down at his lap as he muttered “Not my finest moment.”

Nick, who mainly knew Tommy and tangentially knew Lucy from a few nights out at the clubs went next. “Never have I ever had a threesome.”

Lucy was the only one to drink and Evan laughed as she exclaimed “Really! You all are so boring.”

Hen’s entry was “Never have I ever made out with someone in this room,” and Evan, Lucy, Nick and Tommy had to drink. Tommy didn’t miss the way Evan’s eyes darted between him and Nick and then narrowed.

Eddie didn’t seem to understand the game, saying “Never have I ever knocked up my girlfriend,” before throwing back a shot.

Evan groaned. “Dude, you’re supposed to say things that other people have done.”

“But I wanted a shot,” Eddie whined back.

“Fine,” Evan rolled his eyes fondly.

And then it was Tommy’s turn. He’d been mulling over options as he watched his friends drink and joke, wondering how deep he wanted to go, what he really wanted to know about Evan’s past and what he wanted Evan to know about him.

He took a breath and then said “Never have I ever asked someone to move in with me.”

He watched as everyone but him took a shot, Eddie and Evan once again clinking their glasses together.

Evan grabbed the tequila bottle and refilled everyone’s glasses before he spoke up.

“Never have I ever lived with a romantic partner.” Everyone drank to that, and Evan seemed to relax a bit.

The game continued and Tommy lost track of who was asking what as he took his shots.

At one point Eddie grinned at Evan as he said “Never have I ever flirted with someone with the initials TK” and then made Evan take 3 shots.

Nick contributed “Never have I ever hooked up in a public bathroom,” and looked around in surprise when everyone else took a shot. “Eddie, I thought you’d be with me on this.”

Eddie shrugged even though he was blushing. “Shannon and I had a sneaking around phase,” he said.

“Y’all are nasty,” Nick said, throwing himself back in his seat.

When it was Tommy’s turn again he said, “Never have I ever been dumped.”

He sat back and watched as the rest of the room drank. Evan gave him a speculative look as he took his shot.

Then Hen chimed in with “Never have I ever stolen an LAFD vehicle to hook up,” and Evan protested “I didn’t steal the engine, I just borrowed it” before he took his shot.

Tommy took his shot too, and ignoring the looks from Eddie and Hen. “It wasn’t a 118 vehicle,” he clarified.

Lucy groaned and threw a waded up napkin at him. He met Evan’s eyes and quirked his eyebrow and they both started laughing. Which devolved into Eddie, Hen and Lucy throwing chips at the both of them as they ducked their heads.

All in all, it was fun and silly and nothing that Tommy deserved after dumping Evan.

It also left him wondering just how much he had missed or misread about their relationship. It was obvious that they hadn’t ever really talked about their experiences before, both of them trying so hard to be perfect for the other that they let all the buried trauma stay buried.

Until the trauma exploded into Tommy getting scared and pushing Evan away, telling himself it was for the best. Breaking his own heart before Evan could break it for him, like he always did.

He sat back and let the conversation wash over him as the game fizzled out and everyone started trying to one up each other with crazy sex stories. He was pleasantly buzzed and had some stories he could contribute but for now he wanted to soak in the atmosphere.

This was not at all how he envisioned this night going when he woke up alone in his bed. Evan was flushed and laughing, his friends were around him and he felt hope fluttering in his chest. No one had ever come back before.

[serickswrites]

When You're Not Strong

Warnings: captivity, restraints, torture, rescue, failed rescue, blood, wounds, impalement, unconsciousness

"Smallest Teammate," Team Leader's voice came through the darkness.

Smallest Teammate's head jerked towards the sound. They hadn't moved from the spot where Whumper had chained them to. Whumper had promised when they returned the torture would commence. Smallest Teammate had huddled in the darkness, trying not to let their terror overwhelm them. They knew Teammate One was in the cell next door. They knew that Teammate One hadn't been hurt too much either. But they were afraid.

"Team Leader?" Smallest Teammate breathed a sigh of relief.

"The one and only," Team Leader's face appeared just outside their cell. They smiled at Smallest Teammate. "We're getting you out of here."

"We?"

"Yeah, the whole team is here. Teammate Two and Three are getting Teammate One out now. Teammate Four is standing guard. And Teammate Five is outside waiting to pick us all up when we get to the rendezvous point."

Smallest Teammate could have fainted with relief. The team had come. They were saved. "Thank you."

Team Leader unlocked the cell door and hurried over to Smallest Teammate. "Of course, I couldn't let the two of you be tortured by Whumper, could I? Are you hurt?"

Smallest Teammate shook their head. "No, I'm unhurt."

"Thank goodness for that. Come on," Team Leader said as they grabbed Smallest Teammate's hand. They began to run from the cell. "Let's go!" They said as they met the other three team members in the hall. "We just need to make it through the compound and we're in the clear. I'll take point. Teammate Two and Three, fan out behind me. Teammate One, you and Smallest Teammate go in the middle. Teammate Four will bring up the rear."

"Yes, Team Leader," the team said in unison.

"There's just one choke point near the end. There's a stair case that we have to climb to get out. It only fits one at a time. So we'll go single file. But we should be well past Whumper and their goons by then."

Smallest Teammate took the gun offered them by Teammate Four. They checked the magazine and took the spare clip. They were getting out of there. They hurried along behind the rest of their team. Quickly and quietly, the team made their way through Whumper's compound.

Smallest Teammate breathed a sigh of relief when the team reached the stair case without meeting Whumper or any of their team. They were almost out.

"Right, single file now. Me first. Teammate Two next, then Teammate Three, then Smallest Teammate, Teammate One, and Teammate Four will bring up the rear." Team Leader glanced around their team's faces. "We're almost out of here. We've got this."

Team Leader took the steps one at a time, ensuring each step was silent as they climbed. The team mimicked their movements. Smallest Teammate almost ran into Teammate Three's back as Teammate Three suddenly stopped. "Why are we--hey!" Teammate Two said as they tipped backwards, almost falling. "Team Leader why did you--"

Team Leader's shout of pain silenced Teammate Two. Teammate Three pushed forward. "Lay the covering fire, I've got them. I've got them!"

Teammate Two and Teammate Three sprung into action, leaving Smallest Teammate unsure of what was happening. Their mouth went dry as they watched Teammate Three pulling a very limp Team Leader back while Teammate Two fired their weapon up the stairs. Teammate One pushed past Smallest Teammate and Teammate Three and took a stand just behind Teammate Two. A bloodied sword glinted in the light as Smallest Teammate could see that Team Leader's left side was impaled by the blade. Who the fuck still used a sword?

"Take them," Teammate Three said to Smallest Teammate as they stood on the stairs. Team Leader moaned as Teammate Three jostled the sword. "I'm too tall to support them. And I can't carry them. I need access to my gun."

"We're getting pinned down up here!" Teammate One shouted.

"We're all clear back here." Teammate Four shouted. "Take Team Leader, Smallest Teammate. We can make a push forward and still get out of here."

Smallest Teammate nodded and stepped forward to take Team Leader. "Lean on me, Team Leader. I've got you."

Smallest Teammate took Team Leader's right arm and pulled it over their neck. Team Leader whimpered with pain, but settled. "Th-Th-Thanks," they said breathlessly. Their face was pale and sweaty.

"I can try and bind the sword," Smallest Teammate offered.

Team Leader shook their head. "P-P-Plugggggggingggg the....the wwwwound."

Smallest Teammate opened their mouth to reply, but Teammate Four urged them forward. "They've taken the top of the stair, move. Move. Move. Move."

"Ok, Team Leader, let's go," Smallest Teammate said as they took a couple of test steps. Team Leader whimpered, but was able to keep pace with them.

As they ran along behind Teammate Three, Smallest Teammate and Team Leader kept pace, though Team Leader leaned more and more heavily on Smallest Teammate. Smallest Teammate never realized just how petite Team Leader was. They were the exact same size as Smallest Teammate. How had they never noticed that before?

"We're almost there," Teammate Three called over their shoulder. "How are you doing, Team Leader?"

"Mmmmm," Team Leader managed to reply.

"How much farther?" Smallest Teammate asked quickly. They weren't sure how much longer Team Leader could run.

"It's just around the--"

"Team Leader!" Smallest Teammate shouted as Team Leader's legs suddenly collapsed, pitching the two of them forward.

Team Leader didn't reply and it was all Smallest Teammate could do to keep the two of them upright and the sword from being further pushed into Team Leader's side. "Team Leader, say something!"

But as the team gathered around them, urging Team Leader to speak, to get up, Team Leader didn't respond. They had fainted and become a dead weight in Smallest Teammate's arms. "Just hold on, Team Leader, hold on a bit longer," Smallest Teammate said as Teammate Three took Team Leader from Smallest Teammate.

They carefully lifted Team Leader into their arms. Team Leader hung limply in their arms, completely still and unmoving. "Hold on, Team Leader. Hold on."

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@acer-whumpstuff @artisticdemon @pepeniascat

[positivelyholland]

Can we get a Styles-Swift reader! imagine in honor of Liam Payne?

Steady Hands in the Storm

Pairing: Harry Styles x daughter!reader

Genre: slight angst into fluff

Warnings: kinda a heavy one but it has a happy ending

A/N YALL IM BACK Word Count: 7,243

The house was unusually quiet. The kind of silence that feels heavy, pressing down on every surface. You sat at the kitchen table, absentmindedly stirring a spoon through your cup of tea. It had gone cold a while ago, but you hadn’t noticed. Not really. All your focus was on your father, who was sitting across from you.

He was hunched over, elbows on the table, his head in his hands. His curls looked messier than usual, like he hadn’t bothered to tame them today. You’d noticed the little things over the past few days—the way he moved slower, the way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes anymore. Even the way his voice sounded softer, like the energy had drained out of him.

You knew why, of course. The news had hit everyone hard. Liam Payne, your dad’s former bandmate, had passed away unexpectedly. And even though it had been years since One Direction had been a band, those boys were still family to him. Losing Liam felt like losing a part of himself.

“Dad,” you said softly, your voice barely breaking the stillness.

He didn’t look up, but you saw his shoulders tense slightly.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse.

You sighed, setting your spoon down with a soft clink. You knew him well enough to understand that he wasn’t trying to shut you out. He just didn’t know how to put what he was feeling into words.

So, you decided to try a different approach.

“Do you remember that time Liam came over for Christmas when I was, like, six?” you said, leaning back in your chair. “He spent the whole day teaching me how to do a handstand in the living room. Mum was furious because we kept knocking over the decorations.”

That got a small huff of a laugh out of your dad, though he still didn’t lift his head.

“I thought she was going to banish him from the house forever,” you added with a grin.

“He kept apologizing every five minutes,” your dad muttered, finally looking up. His green eyes were red-rimmed, and you could tell he hadn’t slept much. “But then he’d just… try again. Said you were getting better every time.”

You smiled softly, nodding. “I did get better. All because of him.”

The room fell quiet again, but it didn’t feel as heavy this time. You could see your dad’s shoulders relax a little, his hands falling to rest on the table.

“He was so good with you,” Harry said after a moment. “Always patient. Always kind.”

You reached across the table, placing your hand over his. “He loved you, Dad. All of you. I think you meant as much to him as he did to you.”

Your dad swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he tried to keep his emotions in check.

“It just… it doesn’t feel real,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “I keep thinking I’ll wake up and… and he’ll call or text, and it’ll all have been some kind of awful dream.”

You squeezed his hand gently. “I know. But he wouldn’t want you to carry this alone. You’ve always told me that grief is lighter when you share it.”

He gave you a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes but was a start.

“Why are you so wise for a teenager?” he asked, his voice tinged with warmth.

You shrugged, trying to keep the mood light. “I get it from Mum. Obviously.”

That earned you a soft chuckle, and for a moment, it felt like the cloud hanging over the room lifted just a little.

Over the next few days, you made it your mission to help your dad through his grief, even if he didn’t realize it. It was little things at first—making sure he ate, suggesting you watch one of Liam’s favorite movies together, or putting on some music to fill the silence.

But as time went on, you noticed that your dad seemed to be retreating into himself more. He’d spend hours in his studio, not working on anything, just sitting there with his guitar in his lap. You’d find him staring out the window, lost in thought, or holding his phone like he was waiting for a call that would never come.

It broke your heart to see him like this, so you decided to take a more direct approach.

One evening, you found him in the living room, staring at an old photo album. You sat down next to him without a word, leaning against his shoulder as you looked at the pictures. Most of them were from his One Direction days—grainy selfies, group shots from concerts, and candids of the boys goofing around backstage.

“Did you ever think those days would end?” you asked softly.

He shook his head. “Not really. We were so young, so caught up in it all. It felt like it would last forever.”

“But you’re still close,” you pointed out. “You and Louis talk all the time. And Niall sends those ridiculous videos that make you laugh so hard you cry.”

He smiled faintly at that. “Yeah. And Zayn… well, we’ve reconnected a bit over the years. It’s not the same as it was, but there’s still love there.”

You nodded, flipping the page to a picture of Liam holding a microphone, his face lit up with a big, toothy grin. “He’d be proud of you, you know. For everything you’ve done. For the way you’ve been there for everyone else, even when it’s hard for you.”

Your dad’s eyes filled with tears, and he quickly wiped them away, his hand trembling slightly.

“I just… I feel like I should’ve done more,” he admitted. “Checked in more often, made more of an effort to keep in touch. Maybe if I had, things would’ve been different.”

You shook your head firmly. “No, Dad. You can’t think like that. You loved him, and he knew that. Sometimes, life just… happens. It’s not anyone’s fault.”

He looked at you then, his eyes searching yours for some kind of reassurance. “How’d you get so good at this?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

“Years of listening to your music,” you teased, earning a watery laugh from him.

A few weeks later, your dad had a concert scheduled—a big one, with thousands of fans waiting to see him. You weren’t sure if he was ready to perform, but he insisted that the show must go on.

That night, as you stood backstage, you could feel the nervous energy radiating off him. He kept pacing, running his hands through his hair and mumbling to himself.

“Dad,” you said, stepping in front of him to stop his pacing. “You’ve got this.”

He looked down at you, his green eyes wide and uncertain. “What if I break down in the middle of it? What if I can’t do it?”

“You will,” you said confidently. “Because you’re doing this for him. And because he’d want you to.”

He took a deep breath, nodding slowly. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”

As the lights dimmed and the crowd erupted into cheers, your dad turned to you one last time. “Stay close, yeah?”

“Always,” you promised.

The concert started off strong, with your dad pouring his heart into every song. The crowd loved him, cheering and singing along to every word. But it wasn’t until halfway through the set that he finally addressed the elephant in the room.

“This next one…” he began, his voice shaking slightly. “This next one is for someone very special to me. Someone who’s no longer with us, but who will always be a part of my heart.”

The stadium fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in.

“I miss you, mate,” he said softly, his voice cracking. “This one’s for you.”

He started to play, his voice raw with emotion as he sang a song he’d written just for Liam. The lyrics were beautiful, filled with love and pain and memories of the friendship they’d shared. By the time he finished, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house—including yours.

When he walked off stage, you were there waiting for him, your arms open wide. He pulled you into a tight hug, holding on like you were his lifeline.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with gratitude. “For everything.”

You smiled against his shoulder, tears streaming down your face. “Always, Dad. Always.”

In that moment, you knew that while the pain of losing Liam would never fully go away, your dad would be okay. Because he wasn’t alone. He had you, and he had the love and memories of a bond that could never be broken.

And that was enough.

The End.

[fanbasetwo]

Hii love! I couldn’t tell if your asks are open or not but I wanted to request reader having their first kiss with hao </3☹️

I love your writing so much btw! 🤍

NOTE : my asks are always open but you can still check it out on the pinned post where I do mention the ask status (if it's closed or not) this is my first hao ask btw + tysm for the compliment, I'm glad you enjoy my works 💕 MASTERLIST!!

You and Zhang Hao had been together since high school. When it was time to grow up and explore job opportunities, the two of you managed to make long-distance work, though you’d always joked about who’d be the one to kiss first once you reunited. When Hao finally moved back to your city after landing a job, things shifted—not in a bad way, but definitely in a new direction. You both decided to live together because, honestly, after five years of dating, it didn’t feel like a big leap.

Still, there were moments of awkwardness, like when you’d share the same bed at night. Sure, you’d cuddle, but neither of you ever took it further—not because you didn’t want to, but because you were both too shy to take the first step. Every touch felt hesitant, every glance carrying the weight of unspoken feelings.

“Hao?” you whispered, nudging him gently. He was sprawled on the bed after a long day at work, clearly exhausted. You both split rent evenly, and lately, you’d noticed how much effort he put into his job. He hummed softly, his body shifting as he turned on his side to face you. Without a word, he pulled you closer, his arm draped around your waist.

“Did you have a hard time at work?” you asked, your voice barely above a murmur as your sleepy eyes met his. He blinked at you, his gaze warm yet hesitant, before one hand reached up to cup your cheek.

“It’s not work,” he said quietly, shaking his head slightly.

“Then what is it?” you pressed, your curiosity piqued.

He hesitated for a moment, his thumb gently brushing against your skin. “It’s about us,” he admitted, his voice soft but tinged with uncertainty. “Are you... not attracted to me anymore?” The question caught you off guard, and you frowned, trying to piece together why he’d think that. “Of course I’m attracted to you,” you replied quickly, your tone laced with confusion. “Why would you feel otherwise?”

He let out a small sigh, looking almost embarrassed. “Because... you never, you know... take any hints. And you don’t really drop any hints either. About wanting... my kisses.”

His words trailed off, his cheeks dusted with a faint pink as he avoided your gaze. You stared at him for a moment before giggling softly, the nervousness between you both dissolving just a little. “Is it because I smell?” he asked suddenly, his tone half-serious, making you laugh even harder.

“Hao, no!” you managed to say through your giggles, shaking your head. “I’m just... nervous.”

“Then... can we do it now?” Hao's voice was barely a whisper, his nose brushing against yours as his hand rested gently on your cheek.

“Right now?” you echoed, your heart racing at his sudden question. His shy yet eager nod made your cheeks flush, and though you wanted to take the lead, the thought itself made you feel timid.

“Okay,” you murmured, giving a small nod of your own.

Neither of you moved at first, the shyness between you lingering in the space where your breaths mingled. It was as though a silent agreement passed between you: close your eyes and let it happen naturally. You squeezed your eyes shut, nerves buzzing through your entire body. And then, it happened—a soft, fleeting brush of his lips against yours. The touch sent a jolt down your spine, warm and electric, leaving you breathless even in its gentleness.

Both of you were lying on your sides, facing each other, and though the moment was slightly awkward, it was perfect in its own way. You tried to remember the romantic scenes you'd seen in dramas and movies, hesitantly capturing his upper lip between your own. Hao followed suit, tentatively suckling on your bottom lip, his movements clumsy yet tender. The kiss was inexperienced, both of you unsure of what to do next, but that only made it more endearing.

Your lips moved together in a rhythm that was anything but polished, yet the emotions behind it made your chest feel tight in the best way. With every soft press, every subtle tilt of your heads, you felt your connection deepen.

It wasn’t perfect or seamless, but it was real, filled with the quiet love and nervous excitement you’d built over the years.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, faces mere inches apart as you opened your eyes. Hao’s lips were slightly parted, his cheeks glowing with a faint blush as he grinned at you.

“That was...” he began, trailing off as he searched for the right word.

You giggled, touching your lips lightly. “Messy?”

“Perfect,” he corrected, his gaze soft and adoring.

[akataiii]

Fluffy!! (Shoyo Hinata x Reader)

“I have to touch it.”

Kiyoko looked up at you from her clipboard, her brows raised questioningly. Even if your words were aimed at her, you didn't see the confused gaze that was resting on you, given your eyes were focused on something entirely different.

“You've lost me,” Kiyoko said to you, and your attention shifted from the court onto her.

“You know what I mean,” you urged, your grip tightening on the volleyball you were holding as you nodded your head to your right.

Kiyoko looked in the direction you’d nodded in, and her eyes scanned the court. After a few moments, she looked back at you, still confused as ever.

“Yeah, no. I don't.”

You gave an over dramatic groan, throwing your head back in frustration. You dropped the ball you��d been holding and reclaimed your seat next to Kiyoko, regarding her with a serious expression.

“I'm talking about someone's hair,” you whispered through gritted teeth, nodding your head to the court again. 

At your words, Kiyoko raised her brows again, this time in surprise. She looked back to the court, searching through the players a second time, this time looking for someone specific. When her eyes landed on said someone, and she gave a realizing ‘Ohh.’

“Mhm,” you hummed, your eyes leaving Kiyoko again to look over at your best friend. Hinata’s wild red hair looked fluffier than usual today due to the humid weather, and it was driving you insane.

You and Hinata were in the same class, and the two of you met at the start of the year when you picked him out of the crowd by his alluring head of fluffy red hair. It stood out to you, and you felt almost drawn to it, so you decided to just go up and talk to him. You and the boy quickly hit it off and became the best of friends, even going so far as to make a personal handshake that the two of you carried out every morning. So every day when Hinata came over to your desk to complete your handshake, you were forced to fight the temptation of ruffling his hair.

It was manageable, though, seeing as Hinata sat behind you and had volleyball before and after school, so you didn’t have to stare at his alluring, fluffy hair 24/7. That is, it was manageable until Hinata invited you to become the next volleyball manager, and of course you couldn’t say no to your best friend, so now you were the new manager in training and you were forced to stare at Hinata and his stupid, fluffy, red hair.

You admitted this to Kiyoko after she caught you staring at him during practice once, and now it’s become a secret shared between you two managers.

“It looks so fluffy,” you complained, earning a smile and a light eye roll from Kiyoko.

“Yes, yes. I’m well aware,” she said, and you gave a pout, your gaze never leaving Hinata as he moved around on the court.

This went on for quite some time, until the team eventually reached the end of the set and everyone came around to drink some water. You watched where Hinata stood off to the side chatting with Kageyama.

Then, from the corner of your eye, you could see Tanaka and Nishinoya approaching your redheaded friend, both wearing serious expressions.

“Hinata. We need to talk,” you heard Tanaka say, and your heart gave a jolt. It was rare for Tanaka to get so serious, and maybe you were imagining it, but he looked almost…mad. It scared you a little.

Hinata spun around, his eyes shooting open in surprise, giving him that innocent expression he usually got. “Sure. Is everything okay?” Hinata asked.

Tanaka folded his arms across his chest, Nishinoya soon mirroring his pose, looking equally serious.

“It’s about what you’ve been doing behind our backs,” Nishinoya said, and Tanaka hummed, giving an affirming nod.

Hinata tilted his head to the side, nose scrunching up in confusion. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You know exactly what we mean!” Tanaka suddenly yelled out, getting up in Hinata’s space and hoisting him up by the collar of his shirt.

“You gotta tell us your secrets, man!” Nishinoya added, pointing an accusing finger in the redhead’s direction.

By now, with all the yelling, they had garnered the rest of the team’s attention, and Daichi hurried over to put a stop to what looked to be the starting stages of a fight. You rushed over as well, Kiyoko short on your heels.

“Hey! Knock it off!” Daichi yelled as he yanked the two second years out of Hinata’s space, pulling them off to the side to talk.

“Shoyo. Are you okay?” you asked, placing your hands on the boy’s shoulders.

The redhead nodded, placing his hands over yours and giving them a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m fine,” Hinata said with a smile before looking over to where the two second years were being scolded by Daichi. “I’m just confused.”

You looked over at Tanaka and Nishinoya as well, your hands finally leaving Hinata’s shoulders and your brows furrowing. “You and me both,” you said to your friend.

“Explain yourselves!” Daichi scolded, giving both second years a smack over the back of their heads. A few chuckles sounded out from the team, quickly being silenced when Daichi gave a warning glare.

“Ow! Okay, okay!” Tanaka surrendered, rubbing the sore spot on his head. “Jeez. Did you have to hit us so hard?”

“I’m about to hit you harder if you don’t start explaining,” Daichi threatened, and as if to solidify his statement, he lifted his hand again.

“No! No! We’ll explain!”

“Have mercy!”

Tanaka and Nishinoya shared a look before sighing and directing their attention to the entire team.

“Hinata’s been holding out on us,” Tanaka accused, pointing at the redhead.

“Whatever he’s been doing behind our backs, it’s working,” Nishinoya added, joining Tanaka in pointing a finger at your friend.

“What have I been doing!?” Hinata asked, pointing at himself with his brows dipped into a deep frown. 

“That’s what you have to tell us!” Nishinoya yelled.

“You’ve been hogging all Y/N’s attention!” Tanaka yelled at the same time. 

At their words, a silence fell over the gym before everyone turned their gazes over to you. You stared back blankly, Tanaka’s words taking an extra second to sink in. Once you finally registered what he said, though, your cheeks flushed as heat rushed to your face.

“Wait, it’s not what you guys think!” you exclaimed, wildly flailing your hands around in the air in front of you. “Hinata isn’t doing anything. It’s just me being stupid.”

Realizing what you just said, you hurriedly slapped your hands over your mouth, feeling the heat in your cheeks against your palms. You felt mortified. What you just said was just about as good as a confession that you had been staring at Hinata. Tanaka and Nishinoya knew this, seeing as they’d noticed all your attention was focused on the redhead.

You heard Tsukishima snort somewhere in the crowd, and you wanted to crawl into a hole to hide from your embarrassment. How could you let this happen?

“What do you mean ‘it’s just you being stupid?’” Nishinoya asked, walking closer to you.

“Noooo,” you groaned in protest, hiding your heated face in your hands and crouching down to make yourself seem smaller.

“Y/N?” you heard Hinata ask, and you shook your head.

“No. Just forget I said anything, please.”

“No, please!” Tsukishima yelled from somewhere in the back, his tone sarcastic and mocking. “Do tell us why you’ve been staring and giving Hinata all your attention.”

You groaned again, wishing you could sink deeper into the ground below you. 

“Y/N. Are you okay?” Hinata asked, and you could hear the concern in your friend’s voice clear as day. He sounded close to you.

You turned your head to look to your right, where Hinata was crouched down and looking at you with a worried expression. His hand was raised and ready to rub your back comfortingly, and the thought made your heart do flip-flops.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your words sounding funny where your cheek was smooshed against your forearm.

“For what?” Hinata questioned, his hand lowering onto your back. His palm was pleasantly warm, the heat spreading through your body.

You thought for a moment, biting the inside of your cheek before quietly admitting, “For staring at you.”

Hinata stared back at you with an unreadable expression for a moment before he gained a soft smile.

“I don’t mind,” he said, his smile unwavering and honest. “You can stare at me all you want. It doesn’t bother me.”

Having Hinata tell you that you were allowed to stare at him made your stomach swirl with giddiness, and for a second, you had a fleeting thought. As quickly as it came, you dismissed it, telling yourself that it was a horrible idea that was to be abandoned. Even if Hinata was honest and accepting, that didn’t mean he would allow just about anything.

Unless…No! No, Y/N, don’t even think about it.

“Hey, Shoyo?” Don’t do it Y/N.

“Yeah?” Y/N, don’t say it.

“Can I touch your hair?” Oh. You said it.

You felt Hinata tense up, the hand resting on your back disappearing. Immediately, you opened your mouth to apologize, wishing you could turn back time and take back your question. You felt your embarrassment return full-swing, the heat in your cheeks flaring back up.

“Sho—” you started to say, hoping an apology would be enough and that you’d still be able to remain friends, before you were abruptly cut off by the redhead.

“Yes!” Hinata interjected loudly, and it’s only then that you noted his face looked rather flushed. “You can touch it.”

As he said this, he bowed his head in front of you, giving you a clear view of his fluffier than usual head of red hair. For a moment, you thought about getting up and running away, but the temptation of touching his hair was too strong. Your deepest desire was being presented to you on a silver platter, and you would be a fool not to take it, so, with careful and tentative movements, you lifted your hand and inched closer to Hinata’s hair.

Eventually, you reached his head, and your fingers were buried within his soft red locks. The feeling was everything you’d dreamed about and more, his hair living up to the fluffy ideals you’d set for it in your mind.

“It’s so fluffy,” you whispered, bringing your other hand up and using it to further ruffle Hinata’s hair.

The other members of the team stared at the two of you, most confused, but Tanaka and Nishinoya wearing matching looks of anger. Tsukishima made a sound of disgust somewhere from the back, but you were too busy enjoying Hinata’s fluffy hair to give a damn. Hinata seemed to be enjoying himself just as much as you, giving happy, giddy chuckles and leaning into your touch rather than away.

“You can touch my hair whenever you want,” Hinata said when you got your fix, his hair looking properly tousled and messed up.

“Thank you,” you replied, reaching a hand up to fix one of the more unruly strands. “And thanks for also not thinking I’m weird.”

You looked behind you to where the team had gone back to practice without Hinata. They probably thought you were super creepy or strange, given they hadn’t tried to stop you and get Hinata back on the court.

As if sensing your inner turmoil, you felt Hinata’s presence appear behind you. You were about to turn around to look at him, before two arms wrapped around your torso and squeezed you in a tight hug, stopping you from turning around.

“You’re not weird,” Hinata reassured, his voice right next to your ear and sending a chill running down your spine.

“You think so?” you questioned, hoping it would take your mind off of the warm breath tickling the back of your neck.

“I know so. You’re my best friend after all, so I know you the best.” With a final squeeze, Hinata broke his embrace and ran back onto the court, leaving you behind with a stuttering heart and warm cheeks. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you could spot Kiyoko looking at you with a teasing glint in her eye, and you knew for a fact she’d interrogate you later. Maybe this hadn’t been the ideal way to go about telling your best friend you wanted to ruffle his hair, but hey! At least you now had unlimited access to said head of fluffy red hair.

[sophrosynesworld]

The Night Shift (Pt. 8)

Life has never been fair. You know that better than most. It’s a truth that clung to you like a second skin, suffocating and inescapable. You used to think about it a lot as a child, lying awake in bed, staring at a cracked ceiling that never seemed to get fixed. It wasn’t fair when you got third place in the science fair, despite the sleepless nights spent perfecting your baking soda volcano. You can still feel the heat of frustration rising to your cheeks when the judges smiled that polite, disinterested smile, their eyes skimming over your work like it wasn’t worth a second glance. They didn’t even wait for the "eruption."

And then there were the birthdays. The other kids got balloons and cake, their homes filled with laughter and the warm glow of candles. You got cold training rooms and grueling exercises. You can still feel the ache in your muscles, the sting of bruises on your skin as you stumbled through yet another drill.

“It’s for your future,” they’d say, though no one ever explained what that future would look like. At some point, you stopped asking. Stopped hoping.

Fairness, you realized, was a privilege reserved for other people. The ones who didn’t live under the weight of unspoken expectations. The ones who weren’t told to endure and obey, to carry the weight of a destiny they didn’t choose. You learned early that no one was going to fight for you, so you had to fight for yourself—or at least survive long enough to figure out how.

Maybe, somewhere in another life, another version of you is blowing out candles on a birthday cake, her biggest worry whether she’ll get a bicycle or a dollhouse.

But the first time you realized how unfair life could be—really, truly unfair—you were only eight. Mrs. Carter was at the front of the room, talking about metaphors, or maybe similes. You weren’t paying much attention, staring out the window like usual.

Then she collapsed.

You can still hear the sound of her body hitting the floor, the awful thud of it. At first, you thought she’d tripped. But then you saw her face—twisted, pale, her hand clutching her chest like she was trying to keep something inside from breaking free.

The room exploded into chaos. Desks screeched as kids shoved their chairs back. Someone screamed. A few bolted for the door. You just sat there, frozen, watching. It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room, and all we could hear was her gasping—sharp, shallow, desperate.

You remember thinking, someone has to help her. But no one moved. Not really. They were too scared, too shocked. And then the thought came again, louder this time. I have to help her.

Before you knew what you were doing, you were at her side. Knees hitting the floor hard enough to bruise, but no pain erupted. Or at least, you didn’t feel it. You couldn't feel anything except the pounding of your heart. You remember touching her arm, hands shaking so badly you weren’t sure you could keep them still. Her lips were moving, but you couldn’t hear what she was saying.

Then it happened.

As your skin touched hers, a sudden warmth surged through your chest, spreading like fire down your arms. A golden light began to spiral around you, vivid and alive, wrapping the two of you in its glow. Then, just like that, the panic and pain vanished. She went still, her breathing steadying as if a switch had been flipped.

What am I doing? Is this me?

Your eyes widen in awe and disbelief as her veins shimmered beneath her skin, glowing like threads of molten gold. The luminous trails weaving their way from the arm you were holding, disappearing under her sleeves and tracing an unseen path beneath her shirt to somewhere deeper within her body.

The rest is a blur. The door slammed open, teachers rushed in with everyone talking at once. Eventually, someone touches your arm, their grip firm but not unkind. You barely register the murmurs of reassurance as they guide you to your feet. Your legs move mechanically, as your head turns, eyes fixed on Mrs. Carter as they lift her onto a stretcher.

“Little lady,” a man with grey hair says, leaning down towards you. “I think you’ve got a bright future ahead of you.”

"Are you listening?"

The voice jolts you, snapping your attention back to the sterile room. Your eyes locking onto the source of the voice—a man in a white coat standing at the foot of your bed. Your abrupt movement causes him jump as well, nearly dropping his clipboard, which in turn knocks against a nurse's tray of IV medication. She scowls, steadying it with a sharp glare.

"I-" you croak, your voice raw as if you’ve swallowed shards of glass. You reach out instinctively, your trembling fingers brushing against the nurse's forearm. She pauses, then gently clasps your hand in hers.

"I need…" you rasp, the words catching in your throat.

“What is it?” the nurse asks, her tone softening despite the irritation that had lined her features a moment ago.

Your body lurches forward suddenly, a violent gag ripping through you. The nurse reacts swiftly, sliding a plastic tray under your chin just in time, but nothing comes up. Dry heaves rack your body, each one making your head throb harder, the pounding in your skull relentless.

“I need some Zofran,” you manage to plead between gasps, your body sagging back against the bed. Another dry retch claws its way up, leaving your stomach aching and hollow.

Dr. Kento Mori’s calm voice cuts through. “I already ordered it,” he says, stepping closer before turning to the nurse with a nod. “Go ahead and administer it.”

The nurse—Kumiko, if you remember correctly—gives your hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze before releasing it, busying herself with the IV line. Meanwhile, Dr. Mori pulls up a chair on the other side of the bed, his expression unreadable. Dozens of monitors surround you, their soft beeps counting out your pulse, your breathing, the rhythm of your existence.

“How are you feeling?” he asks gently, his large, callused hand resting on your arm. Your brow furrows. How are you feeling? Everything aches—your head, your throat, your stomach—but it’s the stabbing pain in your chest that feels the worst.

“What happened?” you whisper. The question hangs in the air, as your mind races to fill in the gaps. Was I hurt?

Kento leans forward, clasping his hands together. "You collapsed during your shift," he begins, his eyes meeting yours. "Another visitor in the hospital found you unresponsive in the south hallway."

“I…” You try to form a coherent thought, but your mind spirals. How could I let this happen?

"You’ve been pushing yourself too hard," Dr. Mori continues, as if he could read your mind. “Your body couldn’t take it anymore. It’s not just exhaustion—it’s dehydration, malnutrition, and stress. You’re burning out.”

His words feel like accusations, even though you know they aren’t. You stare at the ceiling, your chest tightening. I’m supposed to be better than this. Stronger than this.

But lying here, tethered to machines and monitors, you can’t ignore the truth. Your body betrayed you, or maybe you betrayed it.

“When can I get back to work?” you ask, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. They feel hollow, wrong somehow, but they’re all you can think to say. Kento's face tightens.

“Honestly,” he starts, then hesitates, clearing his throat like the words are hard to get out. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you.”

His eyes flick to the monitors beside you, the steady beeping growing louder, faster, like it’s keeping time with the unease building in your chest. His eyes return to yours, sharp but not unkind, and for a moment, you see the exhaustion behind it.

“Your heart is deteriorating,” he says bluntly. “And we don’t know yet if it’s connected to your quirk use or something else entirely.”

“So… what does that mean?” you manage, your voice small, even to your own ears.

“It means,” he says, folding his arms and leaning back into the chair, “that you’re on borrowed time until we figure this out. You need to stop using your quirk—at least until we can stabilize you. If you don’t…” He pauses, his jaw tightening as if forcing himself to say it aloud. “If you don’t, the damage could become irreversible.”

"But what if—what if someone needs me? What if—”

“No.” His voice is firm, cutting through your protest. “You’re not a hero. Your job is to survive.”

His words hit like a slap, and you look down at your hands, twisting the thin blanket on your lap. “I’m fine. I just—I just overdid it. I need some rest, I’ll be fine.” you whisper.

“You’ve been out for a bit,” he says gently, “longer than typical for causes of exhaustion.” He pauses, his eyes searching yours for something—understanding, maybe, or a hint that you’re taking this seriously. Leaning forward slightly, his tone steadies, quieter but insistent. “I’m going to do everything I can to figure this out. I promise.”

There’s a flicker of something in his copper iris—determination or maybe worry; you can't decide which. “But I need you to help me, okay? That means no overexertion. No stress. No—”

His words falter mid-sentence as the door bursts open, slamming against the wall. Before you can process what’s happening, two familiar figures rush in like a whirlwind.

“You’re awake!” Rina cries, her voice cracking with a mix of relief and excitement. Airi’s right behind her, her eyes glistening, but she says nothing as she dives forward.

The next second, they’re both on you, arms wrapping tightly around your shoulders in a bear hug that nearly knocks the wind out of you.

“Careful!” the man protests, his voice sharp with concern as he jumps to his feet.

But Rina and Airi don’t seem to hear him—or, more likely, they don’t care. “Three weeks” Rina exclaims, her voice muffled against your shoulder. “Three weeks! Do you know how worried we were?!”

Airi sniffles, pulling back just enough to glare at you through watery eyes. “You’re never allowed to scare us like that again, got it?”

Your throat tightens, and the weight of their presence—of their relief, their worry, their sheer being here—makes your own eyes sting.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, your voice breaking.

Rina pulls back just enough to look at you, her brow furrowed in mock anger. “Damn right, you are.” Then she softens, a small, wobbly smile breaking through. “But I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Airi nods furiously, gripping your hand like she’ll never let go. “We thought…” Her voice wavers, and she doesn’t finish, but she doesn’t have to. The man clears his throat pointedly, and all three of you glance at him.

“As heartwarming as this is,” he says, his tone a mix of exasperation and understanding, “she’s still fragile. You can hug her later. For now, I need to finish up with this patient.”

Rina raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “We are helping. Emotional support is part of healing.”

Airi nods, shooting him a defiant look. “Yeah. Don't act like we don't work here.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering something about patience, but doesn’t argue further. “Fine. But only if you let her rest after this.”

Rina and Airi exchange a glance, then reluctantly step back, though they don’t let go entirely. Their hands remain on the bed near you.

“She’s going to be okay, right?” Airi asks, her voice trembling as her wide eyes dart between you and the doctor. "They wouldn’t tell us anything about what happened. No one would."

“I’m fine,” you interject quickly, forcing a smile to steady her. “Turns out I just overdid it. Nothing serious, right, Kento?” You glance at him, searching for backup.

“That’s right.” Kento offers a polite smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “And, as you know, we’re not allowed to access employee medical records unless it's an assigned case.”

Rina crosses her arms, standing protectively beside Airi. “Doesn’t stop you from being all secretive, though,” she mutters, her tone carrying just enough edge to convey her frustration.

You shake your head gently. “It’s normal hospital procedure, Rina. He’s just following the rules. But thank you—really—for being here.” Your voice softens, gratitude seeping through. “It means a lot.”

Rina huffs but softens at your words. Before she can reply, Kento clears his throat. “Did you know your best friend here has months of vacation time saved up?” His casual tone carries a teasing edge, but his glance at you feels pointed. He's saying checkmate.

Your eyes snap to him, narrowing. If looks could kill, the room would be painted in red. “Oh, for the love of—”

“We have to take a girls’ trip!” Airi exclaims, the tension in her face finally breaking as a smile spreads across her lips. She practically bounces up and down, the previous look in her eyes replaced with excitement.

Vacation? You’ve never been one to take time off—not because you don’t need it, but because work has always been your anchor, your identity. The thought of being away feels like losing a part of yourself.

“Are you seriously taking time off?” Rina’s voice breaks through your spiraling thoughts.

You hesitate, caught between their hopeful expressions and the reality of your new schedule.

“Well…” You let your eyes wander around the room, grasping for a distraction, but even the nurse who had administered your medication earlier has slipped away unnoticed. “Maybe? I’m not sure yet.”

“You should,” Rina says firmly, her usual teasing tone gone. “If anyone deserves a break, it’s you.”

Airi nods, “You better actually rest this time, though. No sneaking out to answer emails or check on patients. I’ll hunt you down if I have to.”

You laugh again, but the sound feels thin, like glass stretched too far. “I promise,” you lie, knowing full well you’ll try to stay involved in any way you can.

As your friend's chatter on, their excitement filling the room, your doctor sighs in defeat and quietly excuses himself, promising to return later when they’re finished. You keep smiling, nodding along as if their energy is infectious, but inside, the fear twists like a knife. What if I can’t come back? What if this is the beginning of the end for me?

“Hey.” Rina shoves you softly, her tone lighter, almost teasing again. “You’ll be back before we know it. The place is already falling apart without you.”

You muster a grin, forcing it to feel natural. “Of course,” you reply, your voice steady despite the weight in your chest. “I’ll be back in no time.”

Author's Note: DON'T BE MAD AT ME. I promise you I am single handedly creating the most beautiful storyline of my career, but you need to let me cook!

Tags: @simplyraeblue @moonfloweronmars @kalulakunundrum @froggy-crystal @msjaeger @crystalssncw @dragonscribble @gina239 @abcdefbeom @bakugonnathrowitback @your-mum3000 @elarakive @piluhns @deadhands69 @rienin @pikachuzhc @vanillabeama @cheshairacat

[mikeyisbrooklyn]

Kept ya waiting, huh? Miss me?

Hoo boy, I think this is longer than both parts prior, at least it felt longer. (Speaking of, read both parts here: 1 2)

Feels good to get back to writing (three week sudden hiatus who? not me, haha please laugh). But with that said, let’s skip the foreplay and get straight to it, yeah?

Tags: @on-a-lucky-tide @etanesnil @jgvfhl @roachs-pet-roach

CW: mentions of sex (oral and anal) and gym injuries

Enjoy!

Why We Can’t Have Nice Things (3)

Eight weeks came and went, and unfortunately for Price, mind-numbingly so. In the first week, after enough grinning and bearing it and letting Nik pamper him (Price did not have to force himself to accept the expensive as hell cigars and whiskey), the pilot finally stopped hovering around him like he was a porcelain doll centimeters from the ledge. Weeks two and three consisted of what Price could only call tooth-rotting domesticity. The only meals Nik didn’t home make, were five coursers he had some American bloke fly in to make from them. There was more than a few instances of near quiet between Price and Nik—filled only by ambient sounds from inside the house like water flowing through pipes and outside like chirping birds and light winds—that never veered towards awkward, only peaceful. One morning, Price was (forcibly) carried to a beautiful garden out back where he lit up while Nik read, leading to Price resting his head onto Nik’s shoulder with Nik’s free hand idly carding through his hair.

The serenity of the moment was almost enough to convince Price it was a good thing he wasn’t back in his office working to catch the slippery bastard that evaded them, without nearly getting himself and his men killed this time. The peace almost made him forget that if he hadn’t fucked up so colossally, Nik wouldn’t have to be benched and wouldn’t have to be subtly checking him every other second like he was waiting for Price to keel over. The sappy romance of it all almost made him believe he deserved things so easy and pure.

Almost.

For all the endearing sincerity of the domestic moments, there were more than a few…erotic ones that Price was more than willing to allow as distractions. When a gaggle of men came by for landscaping, one tall, fit lad—a man with skin smooth as marble the shade of mahogany and half Price’s age—had taken off his shirt in the heat, revealing abs Price couldn’t have even dreamed of at his best. It caught Price’s eye from the window, of course, and though he knew he couldn’t be less interested, some people are impossible to look away from. Nik also noticed the man, but more so, he noticed how the man winked at Price once he had been staring for longer than 30 full seconds. When the Russian went outside, Price was half afraid (and half turned on) that Nik would break the lad’s jaw. Instead, he took off his own top and got to work with the law men. It’s not as if Price had anything else to do but even if he did, he was fully glued to the window by this point, forgetting all else but the powerful body obviously showing off for him. Price was all but literally drooling and knew exactly where he wanted to quench his thirst.

Later that night Nik was more than willing to give Price what he needed. There was never a question, but Price himself was more than willing to ensure Nik who he belonged to if the way he screamed his name was any indicator. Though, frustratingly, even sex couldn’t entirely distract Price from the war in his head as he could tell Nik was much gentler with him physically due to his leg. Nik valiantly attempted to mask it as another way to pamper Price but he could feel the restraint.

He didn’t intend it to, but it made Price pull away from Nik—not literally, the jaws of life couldn’t pry him away from that warm, fuzzy chest—it didn’t feel right to encourage Nik’s coddling of him. The pilot clearly meant no harm, but Price could feel the strain he was putting on his partner. So, Price stayed quiet as they caught their breath and did his damndest to hurry to sleep, maybe then he wouldn’t be stressing Nik out so much.

Week four was when Price started going to physical therapy. Nik gave him what he thinks are words of encouragement on the first ride to the therapist’s office. It was sweet but if anything heightened Price’s nerves. If he didn’t do well in physical therapy, they would likely extend his leave. The thought shook him to his core.

In reality, PT was dreadfully uneventful. The first few sessions were simple joint and motor control exercises—swinging his leg and rolling his knee, that kind of stuff. There was, disappointingly, still some soreness and discomfort in many spots. It shouldn’t have disappointed Price, he knew he wasn’t gonna walk any time soon, but still, knowing he was crutch bound was annoying to say the least.

Weeks five and six saw real progress being made. With every PT session he felt more and more comfortable using his leg, though he still couldn’t stand on it and apply very much pressure at all, it was better than he was before. The therapist attributed it to the rest Price was getting more than the exercises but Price wouldn’t tell Nik that lest the Russian go full nurse on him again and never let him leave his bed.

Speaking of, even with Price’s steadily increasing mobility, Nik was not seeming to get any less vigilant. It’s like he was waiting on Price to fall at any given moment. Price wanted to believe the man was just over worrying out of concern but he knew what Nik knew—that Price was a liability now—so he only went above and beyond in his exercises. Needed to prove him wrong. Needed to get better. If he hurt himself a little then no one had to know, especially as he mastered hiding his winces.

Week seven saw Price getting beyond antsy; as besides physical therapy, he had not left the house in weeks. Normally without work to focus on, he could go fishing, hit a pub, or hit a gym. Though right this instant, he knew he needed more physical activity than fishing could offer and he had ample liquor at his disposal thanks to Nik and still needed to get out of the damn house; so, gym it was. Nik initially wasn’t fully convinced it was a good idea, even after Price promised to stay light on his leg like the physical therapist ordered and focus his arms and chest. But Price did remember his mum joking with her friends about the three ways to a man’s heart—so after a full dinner, half a bottle of vodka, and a few minutes with his head between Nik’s legs, Price had managed to crack the Russian.

The gym was thus far the only thing to get him out of his head and keep him out. Something about the burn of each muscle as he worked it gave him something to hone in on. It certainly helped when Nik would join him and give him a sight to see. Watching the Russian throw weight around didn’t just give Price a problem in his joggers, but it was nice to see that Nik was still, well, Nik.

The Nik strong enough to hop out of his heli to help Price carry men too wounded to walk on their own was the same Nik repping 50kg bicep curls like it was nothing. The Nik so ready for anything he brought bags to dispose of bodies in an alley before Price had even asked was the same Nik that had his bag packed with spare clothes and protein bars and their water bottles already filled for the gym this morning before Price left the bed. The Nik who got the perfect arsenal fit just for Price like he could read his mind was the same Nik who not so subtly laid claim to a machine in the corner of the building, somewhere he knew Price wouldn’t be interrupted and could focus.

Seeing Nik still be Nik, even with Price crippled and burdensome as he was, felt like a pressure lifted off his ribcage—and he didn’t mean the barbell he was absentmindedly lifting off his chest. Maybe this is exactly what Price needed after all; to get out of his head, to see that he wasn’t some corruptive force, ruining his partner. Maybe he could just be a bloke who shattered his leg with a lover who jumped at the opportunity to care for him. The thought was…was nice. Maybe he could have this nice thi—

Price let out a strained yelp as the barbell came crashing down onto his chest. If he had been paying attention—or had a bloody spotter—he would’ve noticed his left wrist wobbling before it gave out. Guess he wasn’t as much out of his head as he thought. Luckily, he caught the weight before it fully crushed his torso but the sharp pain and winded sensation he felt confirmed that it was only just barely. Instinctively, Price rolled the weight to one side and ducked to the other, ending up arse over tea kettle next to the bench he had been on catching his breath with the bar rolling away.

At the sound, Nik turned and saw the state of Price—now flat on his back, eyes shut tight in pain and clutching his chest. “Chert voz’mi!” He threw the weight he was in the midst of lifting down and hurried over to Price’s prone form. “Mishka! Jonathan, what happened, are you alright?”

Price forced his eyes open and saw that wretched worry had made its way back onto Nik’s face. Price groaned and turned to roll over, whether in pain or embarrassment he wasn’t sure, but was stopped by two large warm hands on his shoulder.

“Nyet! Do not move!” Nik started feeling across Price’s body, clearly looking for wounds or blood. A large bruise was already forming in the space between his clavicle and left pectoral. “Blyat! I knew we should not have come here. I am no medic. Here, I will carry you to car, let a doctor see—“

“No!” Price stubbornly rolled away, forgetting about his still recovering leg and groaned in pain. Nik shouted his name and came over to him but Price kept his eyes screwed shut and stopped fighting, knowing that he looked more and more like a foolish brat or a stunted dunce rolling around on the gym floor with a fractured leg after nearly offing himself. The irony of this being the second time in as many months that his poor judgement was nearly his demise. No wonder Nik was looking at him like he was frail little thing as he scooped him into his arms.

There were a few worried gym goers and an attendee even offered to call an ambulance for Price, but Nik just held him tighter to his chest and waved them off as he carried Price and their bags back to the car. After carefully setting Price into the passenger seat and buckling him in, Nik took no time to buckle up himself and take off. Price finally turned over to look at Nik, the pilot visibly stressed.

“Nik, please, just—. ‘M fin—“

“You are NOT fine!” Nik yelled out a growl. Price’s eyes widened as he couldn’t recall the last time Nik had raised his voice at him, barring once in a club in Bosnia with speakers that apparently couldn’t be lowered under three thousand or so decibles. “You—you, I…” He was stuttering, and Price pretended he couldn’t see the way his lip quivered because there was no way he was actually seeing that—he would not believe it.

“Alright, ‘m not fine, yer right.” Price cut Nik off this time, “‘M all fuckin wrong but please don’t take me to the bloody doc. Please.” He put his hand on Nik’s forearm to get him to look him in the eye. Nik had a face between a kicked puppy and a rankled coyote.

Nik turned away and seemed to fight himself in his head before pulling off to the side of the road. “If I cannot take you to the hospital then who?”

“Who?”

“Who will care for you?” Nik looked at him like it was the most obvious thing. The Russian dragged a hand through his hair, “I know you do not like hospitals, that is why I took you in. Somewhere nice, or I had hoped. But you hate it there.”

“Nik, I don—“

“You do. You can not wait to leave it. And I understand, it does not suit you. So while there I try to distract you but you are always—your mind, it is elsewhere.”

“Nik—“

“Jonathan, I want to help but I am clearly not! You are hurt and I can do nothing but make it worse and I am sorry. Who—“ He took a deep, wet breath. “Who can I take you to that will take care of you better? Please tell me, rodnoy, I can handle it.”

Price hardly recognized the question. Too caught up on…on how wrecked Nik sounded, as if when the weight crashed on Price chest it was Nik that was crushed instead. Did…did Price make him feel this way? Fuck.

“Nik, I—fuck me…” Price rubbed his face with his hands as he let out a strained breath. “I— don’t think there’s anyone in the world who can take care of me, if ‘m honest.”

Nik became visibly more distressed at this. If there was ever a wrong thing to say to his emotionally devastated partner, count on John Price to find it. Price stuck a hand out before Nik could react.

“What I mean is—I’m not one to be cared for in the first place. You won’t find someone ‘better’ to care for me. So why don’t you just take a deep breath and take me back to the house, eh? You could ice my chest, check my leg—hell, even read me a bedtime story if you want.”

“That is—but you are not happy.”

“Of course ‘m not! I’ve been benched almost two months now! Never thought I’d miss paperwork this much. But it’s almost over, I’ve been counting the bloody days so I know it’s almost over. Then we’ll be back to normal.” I won’t be a damn burden anymore is what Price almost finished with.

“You counted th—right. Da, of course, you counted.” Nik let out a sigh. Frustratingly, Price could tell it wasn’t one of relief but he couldn’t tell what it was. “Okay. No hospital. But I will read you bedtime story.” And like that, he was back to normal.

Well, normal enough. Price could tell there was something there, but frankly, his chest hurt like hell and he’s all emotionally tuckered out, so he’ll look into it later if he needs to. “Knew I shouldn’t’a made that bedtime story joke.” Price grumbled but with no heat in his tone.

“Too late. As the sergeant would say, ‘no takesbacksies’.” Nik grinned to himself as he drove back onto the road. “Let me think, ah! Da, I know the perfect story: the Itsy Bitsy Spider.”

“Oh bloody hell!” Price groaned.

By week eight, Price was all but literally bouncing off the wall—only because if he were, it’d definitely fuck up his leg. Nik actually walked with him into hospital, not wanting to be a part after having to give Price space during the PT sessions. Sessions that Price got full marks on, much to his pride. Now it was just a matter of Dr. Omar giving a second approving opinion and final verdict. He felt like he was being court martial’d.

After a nurse kindly guided them to an empty room, Price sat in the bed—an uncharacteristic anxiety rolling off him. Nik next to him tighten his grip on Price’s hand and brought it to his lips.

“You will be fine, Mishka. Even if the good doctor advises more leave time, you will not die.”

Price dismissively harrumphed. “Agree to disagree.”

Dr. Omar didn’t keep them waiting too much longer. “Good morning, Captain Price, Mr. Nikolai.” She walked in clipboard in hand. Her tone was light and her face neutral; Price attempted to decipher if that was a good sign or not.

“Good morning, good doctor!” Nik greeted with a firm handshake.

“Mornin’ doc. Got good news for me?” Price cut straight to the point. He felt Nik tug on his hand, almost like a silent rebuke. Price did not acknowledge it.

“Always business with you, Captain.” She smiled, holding in a chuckle. “I understand, I can only imagine you’ve been itching to get back in the field.”

“More than you could ever know.”

“Well, then yes, I have good news.” She looked back at her clipboard. “According to this, you’ve been an excellent patient for the physical therapist.”

“You sound shocked. ‘Ave I been that bad a patient for you?” Price said, finally cracking a smirk of his own.

“It’d be unethical to lie to you and unprofessional to answer that question the way I’d like so I’ll plead the fifth, Captain.

At that, Nik got a hearty chuckle and even Price approved the cheeky shot with a soft laugh.

“As I was saying, the physical therapy seems to have gone well. I’m glad you took your recovery so seriously. I’ll ask you, how are you feeling, Captain Price?”

Price took in a breath debating saying what he thought would get him the result he wanted but thought better of it. For all he knew that would backfire immediately. Interestingly, on top of Dr. Omar’s eyes, he felt a pair of deep browns burning holes in the side of his head without even turning to see them. Sighing, “I feel fine. Some days have been better than others and there’s soreness here and there. As much as I’d like to be in tip top shape, I know I’ve still got a way to go ‘til 100%, doc.”

Dr. Omar smiled. “I appreciate the honesty, Captain, and based on what I’m reading, I’m inclined to agree.”

A hand grasp and release of breath to his right that Price is sure was done subconsciously confirmed that Nik shared a similar sentiment.

“Knowing what I know about your field of work, your medical history, the state of recovery, your age,” Dr. Omar continued, pausing at Price’s disgruntled grunt at the reference to his age, “you know it’s a factor like any other, Captain, don’t shoot the messenger. Anyway, I think you’re clear to go back to light work. Nothing extensive, definitely nothing in the battlefield—“

“Desk duty.” Price summarized for her.

“Desk duty.” Dr. Omar confirmed with a nod. “But it is me allowing you back as soon as you’d like.”

“That would be now.” Nik half-joked.

“Well, then don’t let me stop you! Let me get you some reading material and see what alterations or additions need to be made to your prescriptions and then get you outta here, Captain!” With that, she handed Price a thin packet and left the room.

Price sighed in relief. Nik moved his hand to Price’s shoulder and brought him into a side hug before lowering his lips to Price’s temple. In Nik’s arms, knowing he was minutes from medical freedom—sorta, Price felt for the first time in two months some semblance of normal. Though, he could tell that Nik’s grip around him still had the same tension as before, as if he thought Price would slip from his grasp. It was a reminder that he couldn’t get comfortable yet, couldn’t let his guard down. He knew that the moment he did, he’d do something to fuck it all up again. He wouldn’t let himself, not after the shitshow that was the last eight weeks, and all the stress he put Nik through.

Price would make it right. He’d get better, he’d be a liability no longer. He had to.