#but know that i have been making slow but steady progress on that!

[becertainlust]

doctor!law who always maintains his stoic professionalism with every patient—except when it comes to you. He insists it’s “just routine” that he visits you so frequently, ensuring your health is progressing as it should.

Morning rounds start with him pulling up a chair beside your bed, his amber eyes scanning your chart with precision. But even as his hands work with practiced ease, the way his thumb lingers on the edge of the clipboard suggests something more. His voice is low but gentle, asking how you slept, what you ate, and how you’re feeling, as though he’s committing every detail to memory.

At night, long after visiting hours have ended, his familiar silhouette appears in the doorway of your hospital room. He claims he’s just finishing his notes or double-checking the evening staff’s updates. Yet, somehow, he always ends up seated beside you, shoulders relaxing as you talk about your day. You notice the faint smirk tugging at his lips when you tease him about working too hard.

The truth is, Law tells himself he’s just being thorough. That it’s his job to ensure his patients feel cared for. But deep down, he knows no one else has ever drawn him in quite like you—no other voice has ever made him want to stay so desperately beyond his hours.

doctor!law who doesn’t do sentiment. At least, that’s what he claims, his sharp gaze and sharper tongue scaring off most patients from ever trying to get too familiar. But when it comes to you, it’s different—not that he’d ever admit it.

“You’ve been sitting around too much,” he says one afternoon, his voice cutting through the soft hum of your hospital room. “Come on.”

Before you can protest, he’s helping you to your feet with that infuriating air of calm authority. You don’t miss the way his hand lingers a moment longer than necessary, steadying you like he’s worried you might topple over.

“I didn’t ask for a walk,” you mutter as he leads you down the hall.

He doesn’t even look at you, his pace deliberate but not rushed. “And I didn’t ask for a stubborn patient, but here we are.”

The courtyard is quiet, bathed in golden afternoon light. Law doesn’t bother making small talk as you stroll—he’s never been one for unnecessary chatter. But his sharp eyes track every step you take, scanning you for even the slightest sign of discomfort.

“Stop pushing yourself,” he orders when you quicken your pace, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“You’re such a control freak,” you tease, trying to coax a reaction out of him.

His lips twitch, the faintest hint of amusement breaking through his usual scowl. “Someone has to keep you in line.”

Despite his gruff demeanor, there’s a strange comfort in his presence. He doesn’t fill the silence with platitudes or false cheer—he just is, his calm steadiness grounding you in a way nothing else can.

When the walk ends, and he’s escorting you back to your room, he slows, his voice softer now. “If you feel worse later, tell me. Don’t wait until morning rounds.”

“Do you always go this far for your patients?” you ask, half-joking.

He gives you a sidelong glance, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “No,” he says simply. “I don’t.”

And just like that, he’s gone, leaving you wondering if you imagined the faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he walked away.

doctor!law who doesn’t entertain nonsense. That’s the image he maintains in the hospital’s halls and the workers’ lounge. The moment someone brings up the whispers about him and his favorite patient, he scoffs, eyes narrowing as if the very idea irritates him.

“Ridiculous,” he mutters, flipping a page in the medical journal he’s not really reading.

But when no one’s looking, his ears strain to catch the next part of the conversation.

“Did you see how he was walking with them in the courtyard yesterday? They looked so comfortable together,” one nurse says, voice filled with barely contained glee.

Another one chimes in, “Right? And the way he always stays late in their room? If that’s not a crush, I don’t know what is.”

Law’s fingers tighten around the edges of his book, his lips pressing into a thin line. Anyone watching would think he’s annoyed—but the faint flush creeping up his neck tells a different story.

“I’m sure they’re just being professional,” someone offers cautiously, only for another nurse to laugh. “Oh, please. That man has never gone out of his way for anyone like he does for them. He practically lives in their room.”

Law clears his throat loudly, snapping the room’s attention back to him. “If you have time to gossip, you have time to work,” he says, his tone sharp enough to cut through the air.

The nurses scatter, muttering apologies, and he goes back to pretending to read. But later, when he’s alone, he catches himself smirking faintly, replaying the words in his head.

He tells himself it’s absurd, that people are just reading too much into things. Yet, when he sees you later that evening and you joke about the “rumors,” he doesn’t deny them outright.

Instead, he leans against the doorframe of your room, arms crossed, a teasing glint in his amber eyes. “Apparently, I’m the topic of the day in the lounge. Care to explain why everyone thinks I’m obsessed with you?”

You raise a brow, smirking. “Maybe because you kind of are?”

He scoffs, though the tips of his ears turn red. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. If I’m here, it’s because you’re clearly a magnet for trouble. Someone has to keep you in check.”

But when he catches a glimpse of your smile and hears your laughter, he thinks, Maybe they’re not entirely wrong.

[futfemfantasies]

A wedding to remember ~ Steph Catley x reader

Weddings in vineyards are always beautiful but it's something about the venue under the Australian sunset that makes it stand out. With fairy lights decorating the trees and rustic vibes from the wooden tables, Emily and Kat designed it perfectly. You watch the newlyweds have their first dance, a glass of champagne in hand, when you notice a familiar brunette join your other Matilda's teammates across the dance floor.

Steph has been in your life since you were teenagers. Growing closer when on camps together and sharing moments on and off the pitch. Between you both there has always been an unspoken connection that neither person wants to acknowledge. For many years now, there has been one complication for your friendship to progress further - Dean. You told yourself over and over again that there was no chance anything could happen. But Steph got engaged to Dean and you couldn't stand to see it so you move clubs to protect your feelings. Every camp for the national team you'd try to hide your feelings but many of your Matilda's teammates caught on quickly. Every time Steph glances your way, it becomes harder for you to keep those feelings settled.

The sun started to move behind the horizon and more people moved to the dance floor. You decided to stay back and watch, not really in a dancing mood. You heard heels click behind you and you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned around and saw the woman taking over your thoughts since you arrived.

“Hey stranger,” She said softly.

“Hey,” you replied, trying not to appear nervous.

Steph smiled small, but warm. “You've been hiding over here all night.”

“Just enjoying the view.” you said, gesturing to the many trees in the vineyard.

Steph nodded, looking at the sunset and dimly lit trees before facing you again. “You've been radio silent lately, is everything okay?”

“Just a lot on my mind I guess.” you hesitated. Steph studied you, her expression unreadable.

“You know you can talk to me about anything?”

“I know.” you whisper before going to see your other Matilda's teammate.

Emily insisted that all the Matilda's are to go on the dance floor at least once during the night. Ellie dragged you on there, declaring you needed to ‘loosen up’. After pushing through the crowd, one of your favorite songs comes on. As you dance around with Ellie, she gives you a slight nod to look behind you. Steph was there with her hand outstretched, silently asking you to dance as the music got slower. You hesitate for a millisecond before taking Steph's hand. Time seemed to slow as Steph guided you to the middle of the dance floor. You placed your hand on her waist, trying to ignore all the feelings inside. Neither of you spoke for a while, just gently swaying with the soft melody, until Steph broke the silence.

“Dean and I broke up.” she said, voice quiet but steady.

You stopped in your tracks, looking Steph in the eyes. “what?”

“It's been coming for a while,” Steph admitted. “We both knew it wasn't working anymore,” Before you could respond she continued.

“I've been thinking a lot about what I want - about what makes me happy,” Her eyes met yours, hands tighten around your waist. “and it's you.”

Your breath hitched, as the weight of her words started to settle in. “Steph…”

“Follow me.”

Steph untangles from you and pushes her way through the crowd. You follow behind like a lost puppy until you get a little bit away from the reception. Steph pulls you in her arms and you search her face for any hint of doubt. There was only honesty and Hope.

“I've wanted to say this for so long,” you admit, as your voice trembled. “but I didn't think I could.”

Steph hold your face in one of her hands as she smiled, “well, now you can.”

With that, the distance between you became non-existent. the music Fading Into the background and all you can focus on is her. you both lean in and the wedding slowly forgotten as you two were caught up in each other.

The kiss under the stars changes everything. For the first time, the barriers between you and Steph crumble. As you pull back, your foreheads resting together, Steph smiles—a real, unforgettable smile that feels like home.

“We can’t keep this just for tonight,” she says softly.

You nod, your heart pounding. “I don’t want to.”

The rest of the wedding fades into a blur. You and Steph spend the next few days together, slipping away from the chaos to steal quiet moments just for yourselves. Long walks along the beach, lazy afternoons in the sun, and late-night conversations filled with laughter and shared memories remind you both of what you’ve always had—and what you could have.

As the offseason looms, you both return to Europe, reluctant to leave the bubble you’ve created but excited to see what the future holds. Steph heads back to London, while you return to Barcelona, the distance between you feeling more manageable now than ever before.

The transfer window is in full swing, and rumors are flying about player moves. You’ve kept your decision close to your chest, wanting to surprise Steph when the time is right. The deal with Arsenal has been finalised, and the announcement is just days away.

With the help of Caitlin and Katie, you arrange to meet Steph at one of your favorite coffee spots in London. She’s already seated at a corner table when you arrive, her face lighting up the moment she sees you.

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” she says, standing to hug you.

You grin, nerves bubbling under the surface. “I have a surprise.”

“Oh?” she asks, raising an eyebrow as you both sit.

You slide an Arsenal scarf out of your bag and place it on the table between you. Steph stares at it for a moment, her eyes widening as realisation dawns.

“No way,” she says, her voice filled with disbelief and excitement.

“Way,” you reply, unable to keep the grin off your face. “The transfer is all finalised. I’m joining Arsenal next season.”

Steph laughs, leaning back in her chair as she takes it all in. “You’re serious?”

“Completely,” you say. “Thought it was time for a change—and maybe time to be closer to you.”

Her smile softens, and she reaches across the table to take your hand. “You have no idea how happy this makes me.”

For the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

[wizardofarles]

Survivor (Victim)

Did I survive? I breathe, I think,

but am I alive?

I did not overcome—I failed,

gave in, gave up.

I never fought, and never won.

I slayed no demons—I couldn’t

face them. I left

the door wide open, let them in, let them

change me, erase

me,

bury me cold,

six feet under their monstrous weight,

I laid down and was grateful

for the rest and how they allowed me to

hide. I closed my eyes,

but my mouth like a wound remains

open, waiting

for the right moment—for the right

words—to scream, waiting

for caring hands

to claw through the earth and tear my body

free—

waiting always, always choking

on the dirt that fills my lungs,

as countless bright full summers

pass above. Is this breathing?

Is this living? I fear I’m just a ghost,

a whisper

of what could have been, what once was

—tethered to this place

by a thin thread—

You have not found my corpse.

[ssreeder]

hello!!!!!

i started reading liab two weeks ago i think? and i just finished "risking it all" and i

i could scream?? in a good but also not good way?? like bro what was that omg. THE GOODBYE KISS? AZULA? REHO AND JET? i can't

lowkey almost scared to start "into the fire" but erm.. the zukka hyperfixation is real and i don't think i can stop after making it this far

so far reading the series has been a rollercoaster holy moly

you had me giggling and kicking my feet when zukka finally kissed help but the scenes between katara and hakoda/the gaang and iroh when they talked about sokka/zuko being dead?? i was so close to full on BAWLING. and bato's backstory?? i cried

i'm still not over eve and v btw

i have so much to say but i don't really know what that stuff is

but dude holy moly i love your fics and i'm so excited to keep reading

you've done such a good job in portraying the characters and their emotions and everything

this series has been consuming my thoughts ever since i started reading it, i can't begin to tell you how much i look forward to reading the rest

ok i'm just yapping atp but seriously your stuff is so cool

idk what else to say help but i hope you have a lovely day!!!!

THE FUCKING GOOOOODDDBBBYYYEEEE KISS!!!

I know they’re so dramatic haha, I can’t deal with them sometimes.

I will warn you the beginning of ITF is… ROUGH, but it lightens up a lot. If you have craved more wholesome interactions you’ll get that in ITF (but the boys are still RIDDLED with trauma so it’ll never be coffee shop AU sweet, it’s just not that kind of fic)

If you enjoy Bato you’ll be happy that he gets some attention in ITF and I am excited/scared for his character haha ;)

THANK YOU FOR THIS AMAZING COMMENT!!!!!

Seriously… I get horribly insecure at random times and when I get asks like this it reminds me people do enjoy my writing & that I shouldn’t be so damn insecure all the time haha. (Seriously thank you thank you thank youuuuu!!)

I hope you enjoy ITF! Come tell me if you do!

[charliemwrites]

Men At Work - Part 3

I know this has been a little slow to start, but things should progress a little more quickly from here. I wanted to establish some of the groundwork for this weird dynamic they all have but unfortunately, these men don't know the meaning of slow, even in my own head.

No Content Warnings

“How are the repairs going?” you ask.

It’s just Nikto today, returning your Tupperware from dinner the other night. He’s covered head to toe once again, all that’s visible are those glass blue eyes. One way mirrors - hiding everything beneath the surface.

They remind you of… something. 

Hmm. When you figure it out, they’re sure to make an appearance in your next novel.

“On track,” he answers in that sharp, staccato way you’re learning is just his way.

Unfortunately for him, that just makes you more curious. You know it’s a bit obnoxious - you’re not entitled to information, you know that. And most of the time you curb the inquiries tapping at the back of your teeth. But he’s in your house, snuggling your traumatized cat. If he’s got a problem answering casual questions, you’re certain he’ll have no problem letting you know.

“You’re redoing the whole thing?”

“Most of it. Foundation is good. The rest - дерьмо.”

You don’t know a lick of Russian, but you can guess.

“Good bones,” you hum in understanding. As if you know anything about construction. “That helps. When do you think it will be done?”

He shifts, sharp eyes flicking between your busy hands, the door, and Rasputin holding him lovingly hostage.

Little guy is currently perched on your shoulder, face buried against your collar in abject despair that his bestest friend hasn’t come to visit. Shithead is poaching (or attempting to, anyway) the sandwiches you’re assembling. So far, she’s only swishing her tail, biding her time. You’re keeping an eye on her.

“Two months. Three if any of us are called.”

You hum, reach for the tomatoes. It’s only because you’re looking at him that you notice the slightest twitch around his eyes. Beneath his mask, you’d bet he’s scrunching his nose.

“No?”

“I will eat.”

You leave the tomatoes off. Guy mews sadly, you tilt your head to press a kiss to his little ear.

“So, two or three months. Krueger said you’ll move in then.”

“Da.”

You top the sandwiches with a final slice of bread and turn to the oven. Spin back just in time to catch Shithead’s paw reaching for Krueger’s designated sandwich. Nikto eyes the plate of brownies in your free hand; you bite the corner of your mouth to keep from grinning.

“What about the yard?”

Nikto tilts his head. If he didn’t give the impression of a particularly large predator, you’d call it cute. As it is, even spiders and snakes endear themselves to you somehow.

“What about yard?”

“Any plans for it?” You sneak an extra brownie onto Nikto’s plate. Reward and apology for wrenching conversation out of him. “Grass? Trees? Flowers?”

He blinks. Just once. Some sort of intuition tells you that even that behavioral tic is a big social step for him.

“No.��

“Oh, uh… gravel then?”

“We mean no plans,” he corrects.

“Oh! Alright, I suppose that’s a long way off anyway. There’s still so much work to do on the inside.”

But it does get you thinking. What even goes into fixing a house? And how do they know all this stuff? The electric, the insulation, the… whatever else goes into a home. Is it just Weird Things they picked up from the military?

You stare contemplatively at the house’s exterior as you walk the plates across the street with Nikto. (Ras is riding on his shoulder and Guy refused to detach his claws from yours. You fear for the state of your home with Shithead left behind, but neither you nor Nikto had a spare hand to wrangle her with.)

Nikto practically kicks the door in, shouting for the others as he goes. Guy chooses that moment to start crying - uncanny sense for appearing pathetic as possible.

Konig must hear him halfway down the stairs, because the steady boot steps get faster after a moment.

“Oh, bubchen! Why are you sad? What has happened?” Konig coos, nearly running to your side.

Of course, now that he’s gotten what he wanted, Guy’s volume lowers. He makes a pleased little “mrow” and slinks off your shoulder and into Konig’s reaching hands. You’d call him a traitor but you’re a damn sucker for a big man with a cute animal. 

“You two are ridiculous,” you laugh, setting the plates on the counter.

It’s already been replaced since last you saw it. Black granite, very sleek. You like it. (Which of them installed it? Nikto? You usually catch glimpses of him on the ground floor.)

“He is a baby, Biene,” Konig protests, “he must be treated like one.”

“He’s already five!” You reply, like you don’t have a papoose for when your hands are too full to snuggle him.

“Did I stutter? I do not think so. This is a baby.”

You have to turn away to hide your laughter, pretending that taking the foil off the lunches requires your full attention.

Krueger steps up behind you while you’re not looking. The heat of him is what alerts you, the only reason you don’t jump when his rough voice comes by your head.

“Where is the Shithead.”

“Hello to you too, Krueger. How is your day?”

He grunts and reaches past you, trying to snatch up a brownie. Without a thought, you slap at his hand - balk at the sharp whack sound it makes. He jerks his hand back in shock.

“You deny me my dearest friend and you attack me in my own home.”

You spin on your heel, mouth already open. False start as you realize he’s even closer than you expected. The height difference doesn’t seem like much until you’re eye level with his neck. You untangle your tongue and ignore the smirk growing at the corner of his scarred mouth.

“This is barely a house, never mind a home,” you scoff.

He snorts - that smirk turns to a full blown grin. A little crazed. Unfortunately, that makes it more attractive. (And the bastard probably knows it too.)

“You insult me too, now.”

“Sure, but I brought you food.”

He flicks his eyes to the plate behind you and arches a brow.

“Bring me the little Sheisskerl and I will forgive you.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Go get her yourself.”

What the hell did you just say? Inviting a man into your house unaccompanied?! You may not be a true crime writer, but you know better.

You still don’t take it back.

He locks eyes with you, gives the distinct impression that he knows exactly what you just thought and he’s amused by your obstinance.

“Fine.” He reaches past your hip. Smells like sweat and something that reminds you of heat. Solder? Certainly not anything you’re used to. “Behave, eh? Konig is easy to take advantage of.”

You snort and glance at Konig over his shoulder, who’s glaring now. (Somehow no less intimidating even with Guy nuzzling at his mask.)

As Krueger turns, he takes a big bite of brownie, humming appreciatively under his breath. You shake your head, then turn to Konig.

“If you want to steal one of his sandwiches, I’ll look the other way.”

Konig barks a short, sharp laugh of surprise. It startles you a bit, but not enough to wipe the grin from your face. You know he really means it when he sounds like that.

“How are the bathroom repairs going?” you ask.

“They are going well!” he answers. Then launches into an in-depth explanation of all the ongoing projects. Replacing walls, rewirings, outlet and light installations. What doesn’t go over your head is almost too fast to understand as his accent thickens with excitement. You nod along anyway, because you asked, and he’s stupidly endearing - big muscular man getting a bit squeaky while he rambles about pipes.

He barely even notices Guy’s little paw reaching until it’s shoved into his open mouth. He sputters as you burst into laughter, gently tucking Guy’s arm against his chest.

“Why would you do this?!” he asks, only to receive a slow blink in response.

“He’s saying you need to eat,” you giggle, nudging Konig’s plate.

“Oh, that’s right! Thank you for the lunch!”

Barely a couple bites in and you hear the door open again. Krueger stomps in with Shithead bundled in his arms, one hand under her bottom, the other around her tummy. She’s got her head tilted all the way back to chirp and chitter at him.

“Why are you carrying her like that?” you ask, choking back a giggle. 

“It is how she wishes to be carried.”

You blink at her - but sure as shit, she’s perfectly content being held like a child’s toy.

“Well good luck eating like that.”

“You won’t feed me?” he leers.

“I don’t want rabies if you bite me.”

His laughter is even harsher than Konig’s. You like it instantly.

All that’s left is to hear Nikto’s.

Agatha is outside when Nikto walks you back home.

(Krueger huffed that he had too much work to do for the day, but he would see you for dinner. While you were still blinking in shock at his self-invite, Konig transitioned Little Guy back into your arms. All the while grumbling at Krueger’s impatient German.)

She scowls as she notices your two-person parade. Nikto’s juggling Little Guy and Rasputin; you’ve got a firm grip on Shithead and the stack of dirty plates. You snort a bit just thinking of her paranoid comments about them being bad men. Sure, they might be in some ways, but it’s a hard sell when Ras is trying to lick at the edge of the mask around Nikto’s eyes.

“Afternoon, Agatha,” you call, just to be petty.

“When is your fiance coming by again?” she calls back. “Such a lovely young man.”

Your mirth dries up in an instant. “I broke up with my boyfriend four months ago. I thought I told you.”

You did. You know you did. Because she’s a nosy pain in the ass that was asking about your Easter plans with him (trying to invite you to church once again) when you told her that you left him. She’d even fussed about it at the time, saying that there’s hardly anything that can’t be healed with time and understanding.

(It was only your commitment to your own privacy that kept you from asking how much time it takes to smooth over someone cheating with your cousin.)

At your side, Nikto grunts. You glance sideways at him, wondering what he must think.

But his eyes are on Agatha. Even Rasputin has paused the grooming routine to narrow his one eye at her.

“Is this the one that looks in mailbox?” he asks, louder than you’ve ever heard.

Loud enough that she hears. And flushes redder than the poppies in your flowerboxes.

“That’s her husband, actually,” you answer. She sputters, and an incredibly immature bolt of satisfaction suffuses you.

He grunts again. Eyes her up and down. “Maybe we leave surprise for him next time, da?”

You press your lips together, but it does nothing to prevent you from grinning. He’s deadly serious, though, which somehow makes it even funnier to you.

“Maybe!” you reply in a tone that really means absolutely.

Nikto shuts the door on her face before Agath can get out a threat to call the police.

“You’ve got a petty streak,” you say, grinning at him.

He tilts his head. “You like.” He doesn’t even sound sure if it’s a question or a statement.

“Yeah,” you giggle, “I like it.”

He grunts and takes the plates from your hand. “We wash. You think about dinner and revenge. Da?”

You plop yourself onto a stool by the kitchen counter. “Da.”

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[wolvndmouth]

Guys. I think about this shot a lot. Seven (7) times a day, minimum.

This is the exact moment Wade realizes that Logan looks at him, like really looks at him. Logan’s eyes have always been reading Wade in every way they can. Annoyed and scowling aside, he tries in earnest to understand who Wade is through his cracked humor and self-depreciation. No matter how angry he is, no matter how confused he is, he has eyes on Wade. When they’re staring at each other from opposite sides of a gun, when they’re sitting across each other in the diner, when they first fight in the Void, when they argue in the Odyssey; each one of these scenes have a moment where Wade is showing his cards and Logan, even through his rage and thirst to hurt, stills himself to listen and learn for as long as he can.

The man has no choice in the matter. Charles left him with the burden of knowing what it is to be loved, even at his most difficult. He’s felt the healing that comes from someone being able to look past his defenses and aggression and have the patience to plant compassion in the spaces of him that need it the most. He hasn’t been able to bring himself to unbury all the good he had before the bad, but it doesn’t stop him from having the guts to be gentle and kind when someone least deserves it. One of his gentlest moments is when he takes Juggernaut’s helmet off Cassandra to save her, and his wish to be the man that Charles thinks he is is what strengthens his ability to comfort the displaced and love-starved child that Nova really is. It is that same hope that allows him to take a chance on Wade. All Logan can do is hear him out and do his best to see the merc for who he truly is. It takes him some time, but from the moment they met in the bar, to joining Wade’s world, Logan’s gaze never wavers; it only changes as he grows to understand Wade more. He is able to look past Deadpool, and see Wade Wilson.

‘Never take your eyes off an enemy’ evolves into looking at a mirror to his own soul. Wade is everything Logan is, and everything Logan isn’t. They are yin and yang down to the very cores of their being, and for Logan, it’s a tough pill to swallow when he realizes just how easy it is for Wade to love. It’s not only consistently thrown in his face with Wade’s repeated reminders of what’s at stake, but Wade showing him the picture of everything he has left forces him to reflect on the walls he’s built around himself and why. He has made so many mistakes, and he can do nothing but examine his own failures as an X-Man and as Logan himself. He is astounded by Wade’s ability to survive with his heart so crudely stapled to his sleeve, and when he looks at that photo, there’s a piece of him that almost wouldn’t mind being a part of the portrait. He thinks of a world where Scott doesn’t have to beg him to put on the suit. Where Jean, Storm, and Beast aren’t dead. Where Charles is still there to remind him everyday that he matters. Maybe a world where Charles could meet Wade and remind him that he matters too. But “when they fix your world” becomes “if they fix your world”, I imagine in the bitterness of that, Logan starts off repulsed by Wade’s openness to overfill his cup and share what overflows. It’s a slow eventuality, but inevitable nonetheless; Logan learns how to let Wade pour into him. His eyes soften and steady towards Wade as their relationship progresses. When being introduced to Althea, it’s obvious that something inside him has calmed, and the soft nod he gives is the only way Logan knows how to say that actually wants to be there. He’s answered Wade’s call and didn’t walk away. Logan can finally look at Wade with a sureness that he’s not going anywhere.

[GIF by bettercallcohen]

And I think Wade can feel that. Wade is so open because his universe is so small compared to everyone else’s. 9 people. 9 people who make him feel seen, make his heart full, and that make him feel like he belongs somewhere. So when he’s presented with the chance to add #10 to the Polaroid, when someone can actually see him through his vulgarities, through the violence, through his cancerous mutation, it’s more than just surprising when it’s someone like Logan. It’s been a long time since someone’s looked at him like he’s home. No one has looked at him that way since Vanessa. And he probably felt like no one would ever look at him that way ever again. But then here comes Logan, all eyes on him, shredding him to pieces and picking him apart. Wade is the only person he knows in this world, and Wade is the only person in this world that knows him. Logan is forced to confront the idea of being seen and being needed by someone again. Wade comes to him in a crazy, desperate attempt to save the people he loves, and instead he finds one more person to violently stitch into the fabric of his existence.

It’s intense, probably for the both of them, but Wade only knows intensity. Maximum effort. Nothing is off the table, nothing is left behind. Wade’s eyes are as loud as his mouth and bear a burden of their own; a burden of honesty when it comes to conveying his feelings as being one of the only things the Weapon-X experimentation left true and untouched. He sees the truth and they speak the truth. He could see right through Logan from the moment they met. Where Logan could only see a traitor, the Worst Wolverine, Wade saw someone that could teach him how to be a hero. Where Logan could only see himself as the wrong guy for the job, Wade knew this man was the only one capable of saving everyone and everything he loved in this world. He just wasn’t expecting Logan to become part of that world.

Wade is a tractor beam for both the jaded and the gentle, and there is a softness in his eyes that is warm and inviting and penetrating all at the same time. For Wade, it’s not hard to look at Logan and see the tired parts of himself in him. He sees in him the familiar longing for death. He sees a world where he doesn’t have Cable’s time machine to make things right, where Vanessa and Peter are still dead, and he’s blowing out birthday candles alone. Logan is a mirror in his own right; a reflection of not only his failures, but his fears as well. The fear that there may be a day where his luck runs out, and being crazy isn’t enough to save his world.

Crazy is what Wade does best, and the two of them have more than enough instances where “your crazy matches my crazy”. But it’s not hard to see that the way Logan looks at Wade during those moments morphs from a sharpened hostility to a warm familiarity. Though the context of this last scene is Logan fulfilling his duty as a wingman, it is the very second Wade realizes that the other man’s gaze has lost its vitriol and conviction has taken its place. It’s the moment Wade figures out that Logan is serious about wanting to stay, serious about learning how to live in his universe, and serious about his change of heart towards him. It’s a Logan that has accepted his twin flame, and is comforted by the thought that he has someone now that can not only take everything he can give and more, but can bite back just as hard. It’s no secret that Wade holds a space for Logan, but he’s never been concerned with whether or not Logan has done the same. So the moment he’s met with a gaze that is as sure and true as Logan’s is, Wade knows there’s not only room for him to bare all, but now there’s someone that won’t shield their eyes and look away when he does.

[azzibuckets]

sweet [part one]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: a very sweet story of paige and azzi from best friends to lovers 🥰

a/n: lowkey came up with this on a whim bc yall know how much i love angsty pazzi…probably gonna make this into a short series so lmk if you all want another part :)

word count: 1.4k

masterlist

“Ella said she’s worried about you.”

As Paige hovers over her, propped up by a pillow on one side, Azzi thinks that Ella might not have been as dumb as she’d thought. Here she is, with her best friend, in only a sports bra and sweats so low that they’re barely clinging onto her hips. The best friend in question is leaning on her elbow, one hand splayed across Azzi’s bare abdomen, a smirk on her face as soft strands of blonde hair tickle the younger girl’s face.

Azzi slots her leg in between Paige’s, drawing her impossibly closer. “Why would she ever say that?” She asks teasingly, the corner of her lips tugging up.

Paige’s smirk grows dangerous. Her eyes drag down Azzi’s body, doing a slow perusal of Azzi’s chest. “This doesn’t look close to you?”

Azzi tilts her head, batting her big brown eyes under her full eyelashes. “Who cares? I mean, it’s not like you two are dating or anything.” But knowing Paige’s tendency to hide sensitive topics from her until the last moment, her tone drops. “Are you?”

“No.” Paige laughs. “Just fucking around.” Her hands slide lower down Azzi’s stomach, until her thumb is caressing the dip of her V-line.

Azzi holds her breath, trying to ignore the fire uncurling in her stomach. “Does it mean anything to you?”

“I don’t know.” Paige withdraws her hand, replacing it with her head as she settles on Azzi’s chest with a sigh. The action is so casual, so familiar that it makes Azzi’s heart hurt. Sex with Paige is one thing. Intimacy like this, where she can feel her bare skin against Paige’s, feel Paige’s heartbeat, as they lie together, legs intertwined and breaths in sync? That’s a whole other ballpark.

“I don’t even know what we’re doing,” Paige admits, her voice slightly muffled as she speaks into Azzi’s chest. “She confuses me.”

Azzi almost scoffs out loud at the irony. Paige hs always been hot and cold, flirting with Azzi one moment and giving her a look that Azzi swears is only reserved for her, but chatting it up with another girl at the bar the next. It feels like a constant back and forth with her best friend. Sometimes it feels like Paige has her heart on a pendulum, has been since she was 16, yet lately it’s felt like it’s been ricocheting out of control, the string slowly turning into a thread.

“I think she thinks I’m in love with you or some shit.” Paige has been yapping for the last few minutes as Azzi’s lost herself in her thoughts, but it’s this sentence, thrown out so callously, that freezes her blood. “Which is, like ridiculous, you know?”

Azzi struggles to catch her next breath. But Paige has turned her head and is looking at her now, expecting her to say something, so she forces out a dry laugh. “Yeah,” she mutters. Clearing her throat, she forces herself to steady her voice. “No yeah, that’s crazy.” Azzi is confident - she knows she’s drop dead gorgeous, knows she could mess around with as many guys or girls as she’d want. And she knows full well the effect she has on Paige, how the older girl always goes speechless whenever she’s in that pink lingerie set, unable to keep her hands off her ass even when she’s covered head to toe in an unflattering sweat suit. Yet something about her has never been good enough for Paige, for her to want to call Azzi hers.

Seemingly pleased with her answer, Paige plops back down. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” she says decisively.

Azzi lies there for a second before checking her phone. The only notification she has is from PT. She needs to come earlier than usual tomorrow for another progress test. Azzi swallows. “It’s getting pretty late,” she says.

“What?” Paige checks her own phone. “It’s only ten.”

“I know, but it’s been a long day. My knee hurts.”

Paige’s bright blue eyes round in concern as she quickly gets off her best friend, scrambling to sit criss cross on the bed. “Was I hurting it? Lying on you? Shit, Az, you should’ve told me.”

“No,” Azzi waves her best friend off. “It’s just throbbing. I think I just need to take some meds and sleep.”

Paige frowns. “Okay.” She pads out of the room, returning a few moments later with a bag of frozen peas and Azzi’s pink Stanley. “Here. And I moved the Advil to the top drawer of your bedside table right there.”

“Thank you.”

Paige falters. Usually Azzi asks her to stay, to scratch her back until she falls asleep or just hold her as she grits through the pain. “Do you need anything else?”

Azzi doesn’t even look at her. Sliding on her headphones, she shakes her head.

“Okay.” Azzi ignores the hurt and confusion in Paige’s voice. The blonde wears her heart on her sleeve. “Night.”

“See you.”

Paige turns off the lights and shuts the door, and Azzi feels the darkness like never before.

••

8:15 pm, January 8 2024

P: yooo

P: we talked for like hours and i think we’re going somewhere

P: i think im gonna ask her to be my gf

A: oh shit Paige

A: that’s great

A: happy for you 💗

P: i’ll be over in 20 min

P: have you eaten? i had dinner w ella but i can pick up some food for you if you’re hungry?

A: can’t do movie night tonight P

A: knee’s hurting

A: next week?

P: oh okay

P: i hope it feels better

P: don’t forget to use your compression sleeve

P: i doordashed you some food from chikfila, lmk if you want anything else

A: thanks paige

5:27 am, January 14 2024

A: hey where are you?

5:32 am

A: we gotta leave soon or i’ll be late

5:40 am

A: Paige???

Missed call from Azzi💗

Missed call from Azzi💗

A: nvm i’ll just take an uber

8:15 am

P: shit Azzi

P: i’m so sorry

P: i told aubrey to tell you that i couldn’t take you to rehab but she must’ve forgotten

P: i should’ve just texted you

A: it’s good

A: where you at?

P: impromptu trip to nyc

P: ella wanted to go to the knicks game

A: nice

A: hope you had fun

P: how was rehab?

P: any updates?

1 pm

P: dude look

Attachment: 1 Image

P: reminds me of belarus

P: i remember you were so fucking wasted lmfaoo

5:45 pm

P: are you ghosting me now

P: jk

P: but fr

P: you good??

6:45 pm

A: sorry still at pt

A: there’s an issue with the healing in my tissue or something they said

P: i’ll be there to take you to your next appointment i swear

A: actually i was thinking

A: it’s probably better if i just take an uber from now on

A: it’s a four hour round trip and you’re stuck waiting for me during the appointment too

P: it’s not an inconvenience

P: i like talking to your doctors

P: janelle was just getting to the part where she broke up with her bf

A: paige

A: i overheard ella complaining about it the other day

A: you’re getting up at 5 am every saturday to spend 7 hrs with your ex fwb

A: it’s not fair to either of you guys to take up your time like that

P: well when you word it like that ..

P: but you’re still my best friend

P. and ubers are expensive as hell

P: you’re seriously not gonna let me take you?

A: you’re gonna be thanking me once you realize how nice it is to sleep in on saturdays

P: i like spending time with you more than sleeping

Read 6:58 pm

9:40 pm, January 23 2024

P: hey sorry i meant to stop by yours before ted’s but ella needed to change

P: we’re in the back near the pool tables

9:55 pm

P: you’re coming right?

10:40 pm

A: don’t feel too good

A: i’ll just stay in and watch a movie or smthn

A: go have fun

P: bro

P: don’t be boring

P: u haven’t gone out with us in so long

P: i never even see u anymore

A: you can’t be serious rn

A: drinking with everyone after another win i couldn’t even contribute to is the last fucking thing i wanna do tonight

A: i thought you of all people would understand

A: but apparently not

P: I’m sorry

P: I didn’t mean to say that

5 minutes later

P: I miss you

P: Can I come over right now?

A: it’s fine

A: didn’t mean to snap im just tired

A: you’re with your gf and the team you deserve to celebrate

A: you did great tonight i’m proud of you

A: don’t worry ab me

P: i always worry about you

Read 11 pm

12:40 am

P: dude idk what the fuck happened but you’re so weird all the time now

P: do you hate me

P: am i stupid

P: jk

P: think i took too many shots

P: was tryna keep up with nika

P: i miss youuuuuuu

P: so much

P: i wish you’d let me come over

P: don’t tell ella but i kinda miss how things used to be

P: when we were just fucking around

P: now she’s so uptight ab me and you

P: but it’s whatever

P: shit i’m sorry az

P: i was hella drunk last night lmfao

P: ignore everything i said

Read 11 am

[dixons-sunshine]

Holding On To You | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Despite not being too keen on PDA, Daryl craved comfort too. He got that comfort by holding your hand in his. It wasn't always that simple, though. He had to work his way up to being comfortable with that. Luckily, you were a patient person.

Or, three different scenarios in where the archer shows progress in his comfort with you.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Pre-prison (on the road); pre-Alexandria; Alexandria, pre Saviour arc.

Warnings: Swearing, migraines, mentions of injuries.

Word count: 2.1k

A/n: @louifaith, the muse you are, feeding our Daryl obsessed minds with your beautifully crafted scenarios. I wasn't feeling well today (a migraine and I was pretty dizzy) and didn't get much writing done, but this idea deserved to be written. There's a bit of Eugene slander in this but it's because I don't really like S5 Eugene. He's way better in the other seasons imo. Anyways, I hope you like this!

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

The cruelty of life seemed endless. With the stability and safety of the farm being something of the past, having to scavenge for scraps and having to move from house to house every few days, and with the impending arrival of Lori's little baby, everyone's spirits were diminished. Everyone longed for the comfort the farm brought for those few weeks you had all been looking for Sophia, everyone wanted a decent meal to satiate their hunger and although Lori's unborn baby was a reminder that innocence still existed, it was also a cruel reminder that you all needed to find someplace to plant some roots, and fast—especially if you didn't want to attract the dead with the baby's loud crying.

You sighed softly as you quietly followed behind Daryl, yours and his boots making clear tracks in the deep snow. The archer, as observant as ever, noticed your shift in mood and turned his head, eyeing you carefully.

“Ya alrigh'?” he questioned, turning his attention back to the tracks in front of him. Your relationship was pretty new, only having been "officially" together since the two of you had shared a kiss back after the fall of the farm.

You nodded, although he couldn't see you. “I'm fine.”

Daryl hummed, unconvinced. “Yer not fine. I know ya better than tha'.”

Your lips twitched up into a smile, walking a little faster to walk next to him. Daryl slowed his pace slightly to allow you to walk next to him at a steady pace, eyeing you as you adjusted your compound bow over your shoulder—a gift he had gotten you when you had mentioned wanting to learn how to hunt.

“I'm fine, I promise. I'm just tired, that's all,” you replied reassuringly, walking almost shoulder to shoulder with your partner.

Daryl shot you a worried look, fully prepared to head back. “If yer tired, we can go back. This trail ain't leadin' us anywhere, anyway.”

“I don't mean tired in the literal sense,” you corrected. “I'm just tired of all this moving around. Not knowing what our next meals going to be, if we even eat at all, not knowing when our current camp's going to be overrun with walkers, not knowing when Lori's baby's going to be here... It's mentally exhausting. We all need a break.”

Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod. “Yeah,” he agreed. “We could do with a couple' of days where we ain't gotta worry.”

Before you could respond, there was a snap of a twig ahead of the two of you. Instinctively, you and Daryl raised your respective weapons in the direction of the noise, expecting to find a walker staggering towards you. However, instead of coming face to face with danger, you saw a small deer walking over to something in the distance.

Daryl raised his crossbow, aiming to take the shot. However, your hand on his arm halted his intentions. He shot you a questioning look, but you only hushed him and beckoned for him to follow you. The two of you slowly crept closer, the scene before you becoming clearer. The small deer made its way to what was presumably its mother, nuzzling against her legs.

You smiled softly at the sight. Despite the fall of the world, beauty still remained. Unbeknownst to you, Daryl was thinking the exact same thing at that moment, but he wasn't looking at the deer. He was gazing at you, taking in your radiant smile, the sparkle in your eyes, just everything about you. You truly were beautiful to the archer.

Hesitantly, Daryl brushed his hand against yours. Your smile widened but you made no move to grab his hand, not wanting to scare him off. You moved at his pace, and whether he held your hand at that moment was his decision.

In the end, the only thing he did was link his pinky with yours, and it was a perfect moment for you. In your mind, that was really good progress for a man who wasn't familiar with giving or receiving comfort. You'd wait as long as you needed to for Daryl to be comfortable around you. You'd never push him, never.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

The road seemed endless. You listened to the incessant yapping from one of your newest companions in your group of ragtag survivors, Eugene Porter, and had to resist the urge to tell him to shut up. Despite the euphoria and relief that came with reuniting with your group and having new members that could help you all, you were tired. Not just physically, but mentally, too. It was so much worse this time around than when you were initially on the road two years back. You were sporting a bruised cheek with deep cuts and scrapes littering the rest of your body, and you had a raging migraine.

And Eugene's droning wasn't helping matters at all.

As if sensing your deteriorating resolve at not biting the poor man's head of, Rick finally called for a break. “We rest here for now. We'll get moving again in an hour. Everything you want to do, do it now. Once we move again, we're not stopping until nightfall.”

Everyone soon dispersed, some heading to a nearby creek to refill the water supply, some starting a small fire to heat up some food and some even laying down on the hard ground to get some much needed sleep. You walked over to a tree and slid down against it, resting your head on your knees, willing the migraine away.

You soon heard a rustling next to you, before feeling a body sitting down next to you. You didn't even have to look up to know it was Daryl—the archer's presence was something you had grown used to and you could identify him anywhere.

“Hey,” he greeted you quietly, loosely hugging his knees. “Ya alrigh'?”

You hummed, lifting your head to look at him. “I'm fine,” you replied. “I just have a migraine.”

Daryl nodded, his face showing sympathy for you. “M'sorry we dun' have anythin' fer yer migraine. I know how bad they can get.”

You smiled and shook your head, placing your hand on the ground beside you, right between you and Daryl. “It's okay. It'll go away eventually. It's not that bad, as long as Eugene's quiet.”

Daryl chuckled, eyeing the aforementioned man who was sitting near the campfire. “Yeah, he's quite annoying, ain't he?”

“No, he's alright. He just needs to learn to be quiet from time to time.”

Daryl hummed and quieted down, simply basking in the early afternoon heat under the shade of the tree while the two of you observed the survivors going about their chores. However, Rick soon called for everyone to regroup, and you and Daryl got up to follow behind him.

You and Daryl walked at the back, giving you some semblance of privacy, and some semblance of relief from Eugene's rambling as he was at the front with Abraham and Rosita. Slowly and hesitantly, Daryl moved closer to you and brushed his hand against yours, before slowly interlacing his fingers through yours.

You smiled up at him, and he returned the smile with a small one of his own. It may not have been the first time that you've held hands with the archer, but it was the first time that you've done so with people around. Although Daryl slightly manoeuvred the two of you in a way that your locked hands wouldn't draw attention if people weren't directly looking at you, it was still a big deal for you. He was starting to show you off publicly. Although people back at the prison knew you as "the hunter's girl" because of an incident where a guy flirted with you and Daryl put him in his place, PDA wasn't something they ever saw from the man. He preferred to keep that part of your lives private—so this simple gesture was a big deal.

You squeezed his hand, a gesture you and Daryl had come up with to quietly tell the other "I love you". Daryl smiled softly and squeezed your hand back.

You truly loved this man, and he had shown countless times that he loved you, too.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“You guys should come over again. This was nice,” Eric told you with a smile, him and Aaron walking out onto the porch with you and Daryl.

You smiled at him and nodded. “We will, especially if you're going to be serving that spaghetti you made again. It was delicious. Seriously, thank you. It's the best meal we've had in a while.”

“No thanks necessary,” Aaron replied, waving you off. “It was our pleasure.”

Daryl nodded, moving to shake Aaron's extended hand. “Thanks. This was a hell of a lot better than tha' party at Deanna's woulda been.”

Aaron nodded and withdrew his hand again, allowing Eric to take his place before moving over to give you a hug. You returned it before giving Eric a hug too, and then pulled back.

“We should get going. Once again, thanks for tonight.”

“Once again, it's our pleasure,” Eric laughed. “Goodnight, guys. We'll see you around.”

“Goodnight,” you greeted them.

“Nigh',” Daryl responded, turning to you and subconsciously extending his hand to you.

You smiled at him but didn't say anything, not wanting him to change his mind about it. You slipped your hand into his and walked with him down the porch steps and into the relatively quiet streets of Alexandria, music from Deanna's party playing very faintly in the background.

You and Daryl didn't instantly go home. You simply walked through the streets, familiarising yourselves with the community. Daryl never let go of your hand; he had even brought your hand up to his lips once to kiss your knuckles, and your heart swelled with love for the man.

The two of you had run into a couple of the people in the community who were returning to their homes after the party, and you had suspected that Daryl would pull his hand from yours, but he never did. His grip on your hand seemed to tighten slightly during your interactions with those people, seeking your comfort around people he didn't know. It made you feel special, important. It made you happy to know that the man you met back at the quarry trusted you enough to bring him comfort.

Later that night, when the two of you returned to the empty house and retreated into the sanctuary of your shared basement, snuggled up together under the covers was when you finally addressed what he had done. Daryl was laying with his head on your chest, absentmindedly tracing shapes and figures onto your hand.

“You held my hand today,” you told him, softly threading your fingers through his freshly washed, brown locks, the shower having been courtesy of your skillful convincing.

“Mhm,” Daryl hummed absentmindedly, nuzzling his face deeper into your chest.

“In front of people,” you said, eyeing his reaction carefully.

Daryl simply glanced up at you, his face not revealing anything. “Ya want me to stop doin' tha'?”

You shook your head. “No, I like it. It's just a little out of the ordinary for you, and it took me by surprise.”

Daryl was quiet for a few moments. “I always wanna hold yer hand when we're walkin' together. I jus' never had the courage to. Dun' want people to overreact when they see it. But, I dunno... I love ya and I'll be damned if I dun' hold my girl's hand 'cause of wha' people think.”

You giggled and kissed the top of Daryl's head. “So I can expect an increase in handholding?”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah.”

You smiled at him. “Good. That's exactly what I wanted to hear. I love you, Dar.”

Daryl placed a kiss to your chest, before laying his head back down. “Love ya more, sunshine.”

[love-toxin]

THANK U. gush i absolutely will! and ill probably have to rewatch it now. but oh my god. the way eric would probably not want to have sex for the longest time even after u eventually get together (which would take a LONG TIME TOO!) patience is fr key. like probably out of guilt and SHAME but also cause he’s a gentleman. blushes cutely……. like i hadn’t even thought about that because hes an actual Good person who knows that love/relationships is about more than fucking but….. 🫣🫣 damn. need him fr

oh he'd be SO conflicted about it mrrrrrrghhh!!!! im going OFF-

love the thought of it eating him up inside. it takes so long for him to even speak to you, longer to get to know you, and when you fall for him like he has for you it suddenly feels like he's getting in too deep. it's not that he realized he doesn't love you because he does, he's got it bad for you, but he feels so guilty about even thinking of you in that light. you have an innocence about you that he's long lost and to imagine ripping that away from you, regardless of whether you're virginal or not, just makes him sick to his stomach. and he doesn't want to push you. god, that's the last thing he would ever want to do.

truthfully, he figured that since his body is immortal now, he wouldn't get those urges that he'd get as a mortal. he doesn't need to eat, or drink, or sleep, so it stands to reason that he wouldn't feel the need for sex either. it almost guts him when he realizes he does. when you brush against him or purse your lips or just say something a little off-colour, and he feels a tightening in his groin and a flush up his neck. he practically speeds out of your house in a panic the first time he feels it because he doesn't know what to do about it--how he's supposed to act around you when you don't have that kind of relationship yet. acknowledge it, ignore it, repress it, there's plenty of options but no real solutions.

what if he hurts you? what if you feel guilted into doing things with him, just because of his circumstances? just because you care for him so much? or what if he hurts you physically, because he still doesn't have the perfect grasp on his own, inhuman strength?

but then, when the time comes where you bring it up, Eric sinks down to his knees to look up at you. those brown eyes just radiate warmth, love, and he gently ghosts his palms over your hips with the most adoring "I love you" you've ever heard off his lips. if you want it, he wants you to direct it--you don't have to take control, but you get to decide each and every movement he makes. when he touches you, even for a fleeting moment, you have all the power.

Eric starts off slow. baby steps. first it's a few touches to your neck, kisses that feel hungry as he mouths at the delicate skin, but only faintly graze his teeth over a thin barrier. he squeezes your thigh one day as you're driving and retracts his hand almost instantly, he thinks he grabbed too hard--but you slowly pull his fingers back to rest there and his worries are soothed at once, though his heart jumps up into his throat. although progress is steady he still has flashbacks and night terrors sometimes, and they're almost always so vivid he wakes up in a cold sweat or has to stop in his tracks and just breathe. the people who hurt Shelly are dead. he's here to protect you now. you're safe. nothing bad is going to happen to you. he has to repeat that mantra to himself to calm himself down, and sometimes you have to come and remind him as you hold his hand and hug his head to your chest.

it isn't until one night, when you've been nosing his cheek and kissing him more than usual, that Eric starts touching you back. normally he would lay back and enjoy your attention because it's a sort of ritual for you before bed, but this time he just feels it. it's time. he can do it. as he climbs over you you reassure him that if anything happens--if you change your mind, or if he realizes he's not actually ready--you can stop, no questions asked, and just cuddle. but he can sense in the tightness of his body that it really is time, and he really is ready for this. he's neglected you for too long but he's recovering from the guilt of that, now it's just the thrum of excitement humming through his body as he strips yours down for the first time.

as strange as it is, he's happy that he doesn't see Shelly when he looks at you anymore. he used to see her face in flashes when he was close to you, and the shame had burned him alive for so long. she was his love and his everything, his bride that never was, and despite his growing feelings for you he'd struggled not to see her in everything you did. it wasn't fair to you and it was part of the reason he stayed in the shadows for so long, keeping an eye on you but not getting close. it's why he planned to never speak to you in person and simply watch over you like a shadow, from the shadows, where he belonged. it was only once he'd seen your personality shine through over the months that his view of you started to separate, and now after long conversations and your endless patience he can fully put his heart into you without constantly thinking of Shelly in the back of his mind. he recalls when you brought him to her grave with flowers, your smile so wide and sweet when you asked him questions about her, wanting to keep her memory alive for him--and it drives him down between your legs, those pent-up feelings lashing out with his tongue as he finally brings himself to indulge.

you're just so beautiful, so good to him, so....alive. your kindness may be a weakness but it fills him with strength, it makes him crave you in a way that has your hips rising off the bed and your thighs squeezing his ears, muffling out all sound except your moans and the wet shlick of his tongue inside you. your fingers threading through his hair drives him wild. if his mouth wasn't full he'd plead with you to pull it. but you don't have to have everything lined up right now, it's just about exploring--although he'll have a lot more of your body mapped out than you will of his, because he can't help it, you just taste so good. he may not need to be satiated in body anymore, but something in your arousal feeds him as if it's the fount of his power itself. like he was drinking from the fountain of youth, hidden all this time between your angelic legs.

he won't even get into penetration tonight; you'll be too exhausted once he's finished the banquet between your hips, and he'll barely know his own name aside from you screaming it. neither of you are really concerned with it though, because this is your love, and nobody else's. he's almost too sensitive to touch when he crawls up beside you and you reach down, fingertips lightly grazing his stomach until you brush against him and he hisses through his teeth. his instinct is to draw your hand away but he hides his face in your neck when you grip him, clutching on to you for dear life to keep from squirming away from the attention. he wants it. he just can't look you in the eyes while he takes it, because he knows it's been so long and you smell so good that he'll bust before he even knows it's happening.

but it's easy to tell where he's at by the twitches in your palm, the little jets of clear liquid that startle you as they splash on your hand. he seems to breathe with every pulse of his cock as it spasms for dear life, aching for your fingers that stroke him with such effortless adoration. his hold on you grows harder and firmer the more you give him that attention, and with an especially slick twist he's buckling, humping your grip with soft gasps, mumbling nonsense into your neck until he finally hits his stride and shoots his load all over your pretty belly.

it takes him awhile--a long, great while--to eventually work up the strength to lift his head and look. his work is messy and unprofessional, emblematic of a man barely held together by threads, and yet you look back at him with such sweetness he can't help feeling more fragile in your arms.

"I love you." you whisper into his ear, brushing a strand of hair from his sweaty forehead and tucking it behind. and for the first time, the first time in a very, very long time, Eric finally believes it.

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Rumours - Lando Norris

<word count - 7287> |part 1 - Nerd|

"Hey, I managed to get your wood pieces cut up yesterday. Don't worry, I did them the right size this time," Lando told you, sitting down opposite you at your table in the library. The two of you had been meeting quite often, now exchanging your ends of the deal you had made due to your maths test results. 

"Thank you. Don't forget that you still have to sand them and glue them, yeah?" you double checked, knowing that he had remembered but would pretend to forget to do it. Lando had been trying to wriggle out of his half of the deal, but you weren't letting him. 

"Yes ma'am," he said with feigned formality, saluting you. "And I want my maths done. We hand it in today, yes?" he asked, also knowing that you had already done it. Lando had seen you doing it the other day, and had to keep his friends from seeing him smile at you. 

He knew they'd make fun of him for being your friend, so he often found himself sneaking off to come and see you in the library. It wasn't that he was ashamed of being your friend, he just didn't want to face the backlash from his friends. 

Plus, he hadn't forgotten the hurt written all over your face when Max had made those comments about you nearly a week prior now, and he couldn't let you go through that again. He didn't know why, he had harboured a soft spot for you. 

Maybe it was because you weren't outwardly trying to flirt with him, maybe it was because you treated him normally, maybe it was because he liked you more than he liked everyone else. He found your sassiness endearing, and a welcome surprise. 

"Of course, but you're still going to learn how to solve quadratics at some point, you know that, right?" you told him, pushing the papers that were his homework over the desk and towards him. You had gotten pretty much perfect at plagiarising his handwriting so the teacher wouldn't be able to tell it was actually you doing the work. 

You and Lando had agreed that you were allowed to get a few of the harder questions wrong, just so it didn't seem like he had become a random genius overnight. He didn't want an expectation to be put on him once he actually had to do his own homework again, so he was fine with you messing up sometimes. 

"You'll teach me, I know you will," he smirked, and he was completely right. You would teach him, just like you had been pretty much all of his other subjects. You helped him with everything at this point, and he was more than grateful - even if he would never tell you that. 

The friendship that the two of you had formed was quick, to say the least. This time a week ago, you would have avoided Lando Norris at all times. He was cocky, arrogant and a downright dick. But now? He was lovely. 

Those short, daily meetings to check in on the progress that you were making on your ends of the deal were some of your favourite parts of the day - and they were his too. It was nice for both of you to just let loose and have a little giggle, even if you were meant to be being silent in the library. 

Neither of you really knew how you had become friends, you just sort of... had. After you had opened your results together, it was just how you were. It wasn't some slow and steady thing, it was more like an instant connection, and immediate understanding of each other. 

"You're right, I will. I need you to be better than Max," you said, still not liking Lando's best friend after the far from tasteful comments he had made about you. Lando had said that Max had apologised to him for it, but he had never directly apologised to you. 

Lando completely understood the resentment. If anything, he encouraged it. He hadn't helped, he knew that, but at least he had apologised. He tried to get Max to say sorry to you, but he had always refused. "I will be. How that idiot is in top set is beyond me," he quietly chuckled so that the librarian wouldn't tell you to be quiet. 

"You and me both," you agreed, just looking at him. He had always been handsome, even when you thought he was a massive dick. But now? He was even more handsome. That happened a lot of the time, really. 

If someone has a good personality, their looks are suddenly elevated by the tenfold. If they're a complete and utter arsewipe? Then they could be the most dashing guy in the world yet they'll look average at best. 

Now, looking at Lando, you thought he was gorgeous. If only you knew how he saw you. He had never really paid you much notice, not until now. Not until you had been stuck on the bus together. You were pretty at a glance, but the more he looked at you, the more he truly believed you were the prettiest girl in school.

Anyway, now wasn't the time for admiring each other's good looks. The pair of you had maths next period, and you didn't want to be seen together again. Lando was pretty sure that no comments would be made if you walked in at the same time, but he understood why you didn't want to run the risk again.

He'd go and find Max to walk with him, and you'd get to maths first like you always did. Bidding Lando farewell, you took yourself through the corridors of your school and down to the maths row. All of the classrooms were identical, save from a few student-made posters messily blue-tacked onto the walls.

Your teacher smiled as you walked in, not surprised to see you in early in the slightest. Eventually, everyone filtered in, Lando sending you a small smile as he walked behind Max to their seats on the back row. 

All of you had your books out and were ready to start, but your teacher didn't make any headway on actually starting the lesson. "OK everybody, before we begin today, I do have a few changes to the seating plan," she said, earning a chorus of groans from the class. 

You weren't so bothered, though. Anyone would've been better than sitting between the wall and one of Lando's dumb friends. Well, maybe anyone apart from Max, but you didn't think your teacher would do that to you. 

"We'll start with Max, can you swap with Lilly on the front row, please?" she asked as Max huffed, clearly not impressed with being put on the front row. Lando also wasn't overly enamoured at the swap, since he certainly didn't want to sit with Lilly. 

She had always flirted with him, and he didn't need even more of it for 5 hours a week. But, he was thankfully put out of his misery. "And since you have been absolutely smashing your work as of recent, Lando, you can come and sit next to Y/N. I think she could be a good influence on you," she said, and you had to stop a big, goofy smile from spreading across your face. 

Lando had been doing well since you had been doing most of his work, but you didn't even care. You were just grateful that you'd get to spend more time with him. Max watched with a disgustingly mischievous smirk on his face. "Miss, are you sure that's a good idea? You remember what happened last ti-" he started, and your teacher's face instantly turned thunderous. 

But, before she could get so much as a word in, Lando pipped her to the post. "Max, drop it." he sternly said, sending daggers at his friend as the class let out a series of 'ooos' and 'get told, Max!'. 

Lando paid no mind to them, since he had seen the way your face had dropped as soon as Max had opened his mouth, and he hated the way his friend made you feel. "Max go and stand outside," your teacher instructed, and Max stood with a sigh and took himself out of the classroom.

She read out a few more seat changes, then put the starter activities up on the whiteboard. They were just some simple equations, so you got them rattled out and finished within a minute. Your teacher walked outside, obviously to talk to Max and probably give him a detention.  

"Hey, you OK?" Lando whispered, still scribbling down his working out for some of the sums. Honestly, you were just grateful that Lando had stood up for you and stopped Max from saying something more than hurtful about you.

"Yeah, thanks for that," you nodded, flashing him a small smile. Lando was going to protest and ask again, but he didn't want to push you. If you said you were fine, he'd believe you. "Plus the three, not minus," you prompted, pointing at the line of working out on his page. 

"Shit, course. Thank you," he softly chuckled, changing the numbers on the paper. He was slightly annoyed at himself for making such a dumb error, but he was glad that you were there to correct him. He found himself completely agreeing with your teacher: you really were a good influence on him. 

You made him want to work harder, you made that competitive fire burn brighter within him. You had pushed him to get an A the first time, and after that, he had wanted more and more because the pay off of hard work was so refreshing to feel. He was used to average grades at best, but now the disappointment was something that didn't sit right with him. 

Your teacher walked back in shortly after, with Max in tow. He packed his stuff up and hurriedly made his way back out of the classroom, undoubtedly to detention. The rest of the lesson went by without a hitch, and it was nice to be pretty much forced to sit with Lando. 

You'd spend time with him either way, of course, but it was nice for the two of you to get a couple of extra hours a week that you wouldn't have to spend being quiet as mice in the library. The bell rang, signalling the end of the day as you all flooded out of the doors and out of the front gates.

You were waiting at the bus stop for your bus, and you saw Lando and his friends waiting too. You couldn't make out the words you were saying over the slight gusts of wind and the music in your ears, but you could hear witterings of your name. 

"I stuck up for her because Max was being a knob, she didn't do anything," you heard Lando protest, his voice slightly raised. He sounded... angry? You looked out of the corner of your eye to see some of them prodding at him, stupid grins plastered on their faces. 

They were clearly teasing him, and it was pretty obvious that Max had told them how Lando had stuck up for you during maths. In some ways, you felt bad. The only reason he had said anything was because he knew how upset you were the first time around, and he felt so guilty that he had let it slide. 

"She's over there, go ask her out," another one one jibed, pushing him in your direction. Lando's face looked dejected, since he knew that it wasn't easy to get his friends to shut up. They'd keep going until he said something that they wanted to hear. 

"I'm not asking her out, OK?" he sighed, just as the bus rolled up to the stop. 

Just like everyday, your bus driver had the same, dead inside expression on his face and he clearly wanted to be anywhere but driving that goddamn bus. He didn't even bother looking at your pass as you took yourself back to your seat in the corner. 

It was one of the unspoken rules of the bus: everyone had their seats, you never moved, never differed from the norm. The older you were, the further back you sat. The year 7s had to sit at the front, and they'd be met with yells and arguments from everyone else if they didn't.

Lando's friends scrambled to the other seats on the back row, leaving the one next to you free. It was obvious that it was on purpose, so he kept his mouth shut as he sat next to you. It wasn't that he was sitting next to you, no. That was never the problem.

The problem was that he was really worried that they would start to pick on you now that they had it in their heads that he liked you. Well, he did like you, as more than a friend. That much was clear to him right now. But he didn't want you to face the brunt of his friends teasing because he did in fact like you. 

It was just a stupid little crush, that was it. Nothing serious. Nothing serious at all. Did his heart flutter whenever you smiled at him? Yes. Did he feel volts of electricity when your hands accidentally brushed together? Yes. Was his day instantly made better when he talked to you? Yes.

But it was nothing serious. 

He just laughed along mindlessly to his friend's jokes, not really paying attention. Eventually, the bus trundled to a halt so that you could get off. Shuffling past Lando, you walked as quickly as you could so that his friends hopefully wouldn't notice.

"Hey Lando, this is your stop, right?" Max piped up, pointing at you getting off the bus. "Not going to see if she's better than last time? I'm sure she's had some practice."

Lando refused to stay anything, his face like stone as he let you peacefully get off the bus. "Was she seriously that bad that you really don't want more?" another one of his friends added. 

"I knew you guys were dicks but you're really taking the piss," he mumbled, suddenly getting out of his seat and swiftly striding down the aisle of the bus. "Stop, please," he said to the bus driver, who pulled over as Lando hopped off the bus and ran down the pavement to where you were. 

"Hey, sorry. I couldn't deal with them being complete twats," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and standing beside you on the pavement. For some reason, he couldn't meet your eyes, his fixed on the floor beneath his feet.

"I get it, don't worry," you agreed, not really sure what to do. Inviting him back to your house was completely off the table, but you didn't just want to walk away and leave him there by himself. "Is your mum coming to get you or...?"

"Yeah, I'll send her a text," he nodded, pulling his phone out of his blazer pocket. He shot a quick text to his mum, and she responded within a few seconds, saying that she was setting off as soon as she could.

Lando noticed that you made no move to leave and go home, instead you stayed by his side. You both stayed silent, unsure of what to say. It hadn't been this awkward between you since the bus ride the week before, and even that felt more comfortable than this did. 

"Just... do me a favour and ignore what they're saying, yeah? It's just them trying to be funny, don't pay any mind to it," Lando said, hoping that you weren't bothered by what his friends were saying. The last thing he wanted was for you to be upset by what they were saying, since he valued your feelings a lot more than he thought he ought to. 

He also highly valued your opinion of him more then he deemed necessary. He didn't want you thinking ill of him, or of his choice in friends. He didn't want you thinking that he was like them, or that he would say things like that. He didn't want you thinking that he didn't care.

Because he did. More than he'd ever care to admit. 

"Yeah, sure," you nodded, not fully convinced. Any time you'd ever been seen with Lando in school by other people that weren't the library lot, you were chastised for it. Yes, it had only been twice, but that was enough to convince you that being around Lando inherently meant that you were going to be hassled. 

Of course, you didn't want it to be like that. Life would be so much easier if you were allowed to just be his friend, and nothing else. You'd help him with maths and whatever other subjects he needed, you could sit together in class without having the mick taken out of you, and you could just enjoy his company. 

Lando could tell that you weren't swayed by his words, and he didn't blame you. His friends would likely make comments for the remainder of the year, and he'd just have to take it in his stride. 

Soon enough, Lando's mum pulled up at the bus stop, getting out of the car to come and greet you. "Y/N, it's lovely to see you again," she beamed, and the smile on her face was enough to quell the worries and slight annoyance that you felt at that moment. 

"Likewise," you nodded, spotting the same scarf around her neck that she let you borrow when the picked you up the week prior. 

"How has your day been, sweetheart?" she asked, even though her motherly instincts could instantly tell that something was wrong. She had also clocked how Lando would barely make eye contact with her or you, and he was fidgeting with his fingers. 

"Good, yeah. Lando now sits with me in maths, so that's... fun." you trailed off, looking for the right word to describe it. Lando sitting with you wasn't the problem, it was the consequences of it. 

"Then I'm sure you can keep helping him out with getting those A's," she smiled. "Now Lando and I have to dash, dinner is nearly ready." 

"Sure, it was nice to see you again. Lando, I'll see you tomorrow," you mustered up one last small smile, before turning and starting the short walk off to your house. Lando clambered into the car next to his mum as she began the drive home. 

"What happened, Lando?" she asked her son, not having the patience to wait any longer to find out what was bothering the both of you. He stayed silent, just staring at the road ahead as she glanced at him. 

He knew her silence meant she was waiting for an answer, and he also knew that lying to her would get him absolutely nowhere. "Just my friends being di- they're being idiots." he corrected himself, his mum chuckling at the slip up. 

"What have they done? Did they say something about Y/N again?" she pushed, waiting for Lando to cave and tell her everything. It never took her long for him to crack and pour out his soul to her, but it would take a bit of prompting. 

"It's just because I've been moved to sit next to her in maths, and after last week they all think I have a crush on her and stuff," he mumbled. And there were those pesky motherly instincts again. 

"So you don't have a crush on her?"

"That's not the point," he rushed, wanting to brush over the tricky topic of his feelings for you as quickly as he could. "The point is is that the comments they make are too far and it upsets her. She says it doesn't but I know it does," he sighed, his mum giving him some more silence to continue if he wanted to.

"I try to get them to stop but they just keep going and it's getting on my nerves." he complained, slumping back against the passenger seat of the car. 

"You've got to try and ignore them, Lando. I know it's not easy when they're being nasty, but it's the best you can do. If you're not affected by it, then they might stop and then it'll be better for both you and her." she said, fully knowing it was easier said than done. 

Lando was strong, she recognised that, but he was already getting worn down by the teasing from his friends. "Yeah, sure," he reluctantly agreed, trying to take his mind off of the whole situation. 

He contemplated texting you to see if you were alright, but that was when he realised he didn't have your actual phone number. He had your Instagram and Snapchat, but not your number. He felt like he was supposed to have it, but he never really thought to ask you.

Maybe he would tomorrow, if he saw you again. He had to tell you about his plans for your DT project anyway, and he had some science stuff that he needed help with as well. 

The next morning, Lando was on the bus as it rolled past your stop. You weren't stood there with your headphones in, shivering because of the biting cold like you usually were. The bus driver didn't even think twice as to why you weren't there, but Lando did.

Thankfully, his friends didn't notice your absence, or how bothered he was by it. He hoped you'd be in school, since he didn't want to go through maths without you. Also, he was wanting to come to the library. It was part of his routine now, and he didn't want to break it. 

He didn't see you in first or second period, but he didn't have any classes with you until later. Going to the library at break, he didn't find you in your corner table, and he really was thinking that you weren't in school today. 

Meanwhile, however, Lando was completely oblivious to the rumours that were spreading about the two of you. The more tame ones were that you both had crushes on each other, and the much worse ones made your skin crawl. 

It was basically all just what Max had said to you last week, complete with the high-pitched, borderline pornographic moans. But it wasn't just him saying it. It was nearly everyone you walked past from your year, all because of how popular Lando was and how notable you weren't in the social hierarchy. 

It was driving you crazy, comment after comment from people who you had never even spoken too. Constant taunts of his name, over and over and over. You tried to hide in all the places you thought possible: the toilets, spare classrooms, corners that no one was usually in. 

Yet you couldn't escape the seemingly unavoidable torment, all because your bus broke down a week ago. You couldn't tell whether you were upset or pissed off, the emotions all swirling together in a maelstrom in your mind. 

You knew Lando would have gone to the library to look for you, but you didn't want to risk even being near him. It was at the point where you were even dreading maths, your favourite hour of the day, just because you'd have to sit with Lando.

The whole experience was so jarring, since one minute you were happily able to mind your own business, but now? You were the center of attention for all the wrong reasons. 

Finally, it was lunch, and you swiftly strode past the canteen where everyone was eating lunch. They'd all be occupied for a short while, so you'd finally be able to find some solace. You also had some of Lando's maths homework to do, even if that was one of the last things you wanted to be doing right now.

Lando was sat with his friends while you walked past, all of them looking and pointing. It was at this point where he started to realise what was going on, and he was catching wind of all the rumours that were being spread about the two of you. 

Guilt sat heavy in the pit of his stomach, the feeling of complete helplessness weighing him down. He gave it a few minutes before saying he was going to the toilet, and none of his friends actually caught on to what he was doing. 

He walked towards the bathrooms, before ducking out of sight and darting up the stairs to the library. There weren't many people in there as his eyes scanned the surroundings. There were the usual people that occupied the room, and you - sitting in the corner, furiously scribbling away at that familiar, crumpled sheet of his maths homework.

For a moment, he just stood there and watched you. You kept crossing things out and punching numbers aggressively into your calculator. This was a far cry from your calm disposition, and it worried him. You had obviously heard the comments, and he knew that people would be saying things to you directly. 

He walked over, pulling out the chair in front of you and sitting down. You eyes flicked up, before focusing back down on the pages on the table. "Go away, Lando," you whispered, the sharp tone of your voice catching him off guard.

He didn't have chance to respond before you chimed in again. "I don't want to be seen with you, so please leave me alone."

Now that hurt. 

You didn't want to be seen with him. This would upset anyone, so he wasn't surprised that you weren't happy about it, but completely ceasing all contact and interaction with him was painful for him. He didn't want to be isolated from you all because the kids in your year were bored and had nothing better to do other than spread lies. 

"No one will come in here, it doesn't matter," he replied, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. You still had your eyes focused on his homework, your pencil still moving over the paper. 

"And if they do, they'll just say even more shit and I don't want it," you rushed, a single tear falling onto the page and staining it. You wiped them away, trying to stop more from falling from your eyes. 

Lando's heart did nothing short of break as he sat there, feeling completely powerless. He didn't know how to comfort you in this situation, he didn't know how to help, how to make it better. He hated that he was the root cause of all your upset.

"They won't, I'll make sure they won't," he rambled, needing you to believe him. You both knew it was a lie, and he'd never be able to stop the constant teasing for you. He wished he could, but that was simply all it was. A wish.

"Please just leave me alone." you whispered, thrusting the crumpled, tear-stained sheet of maths homework towards him. "And don't worry about my DT stuff, I'll do it myself." you mumbled as Lando just sat there for bit. 

You didn't look at him, just down at the wood of the table. He didn't know what to say, how to get you to believe him. With a resigned sigh, he pushed back from the table, picking up his homework. He folded it and tucked it into his blazer pocket, stepping away from you.

"I still want to be your friend, despite what they're all saying. And I hope I can be," he told you, before walking away and out of the library. He had never felt so unsettled after a conversation ever, and now he felt so down and dejected. 

Mindlessly making his way back to his friends in the canteen, all that he could hear were your words echoing in his head. Sitting back at the table, his friends' attention all turned to him. "That took you awhile." 

"You and Y/N go for a quickie?" someone else laughed, all of his friends bursting out in fits of laughter. Lando just sat there, face like thunder. God, he was getting pissed off. You were upset, his friends were being horrendous, and he had had enough. 

"Will you lot just fucking shut up? Your jokes are tasteless and downright childish. It's not funny, I don't feel like laughing and neither does Y/N, so just drop it and find something else to obsess over." he snapped, and they all just looked at him. 

For a short moment, he thought they were just going to bite their tongues and sit there. Maybe, the normally cool, calm and collected Lando losing his cool was just what they needed to mature for a moment and reflect on how other people felt, not just what seemed humourous at the time. 

But, reality was far crueler than that. "God is she really that bad? Why do you keep going back if you keep getting disappointed?" That was his final straw. 

"Fuck all of you, honestly," he spat, slinging his bag over his shoulder and walking off. It would only be a few minutes before the bell went anyway, so Lando took himself off to maths. As he arrived at the room, he found that the door was locked. 

Peering through the window, he saw you, sat there in your seat with a few tears trickling down your cheeks. Your teacher knelt down in front of you, balancing by holding onto the desk. Her face had sympathy written all over it, and it was clear that you were talking about what was happening. 

You kept wiping the tears away, but more stubbornly made their way out of your eyes. He felt like the convalescence was eating him alive from the inside and out. He wished he could take it away, make everything in your life as perfect as it should have been, but he couldn't.

Lando couldn't take watching you any longer, so he lifted his hand and wrapped his fist against the wood of the door. Your teacher stood and let him in, before pulling him over to the side. You still wouldn't look at him. "I know we've just moved you, but would it be alright if I moved you back onto the back row?" she asked.

He said nothing, just nodding and begrudgingly going to sit in his new seat. You didn't even want to sit with him. Lando pulled his phone out of his pocket, not caring if your teacher got mad. She noticed, but didn't say anything. "Lando phone away when people start coming in, please."

He put it away as soon as he asked his mum if she could pick him up, since he didn't feel like getting the bus. She responded with a swift 'yes', and he put his phone away as instructed. 

The end of the day couldn't come quick enough as maths droned on and he was finally able to escape. As he walked past the bus stop, he noticed that you weren't there. He figured you had done the same thing as him: asking one of your parents to pick you up to avoid the treacherous bus journey.

Wordlessly, Lando climbed into his mum's car as she looked at her son's face. For the first time ever, she couldn't tell how he was feeling. His face was completely blank, practically unemotional. She had never been this worried about Lando. 

"Sweetheart, what-" she started, before noticing the tears brimming up in his eyes. She would have pulled over, but she didn't want anyone from school seeing. "Darling what's wrong?" she asked, still reluctantly driving. 

"They just... they just won't stop." he said, his voice cracking with the words. "I just want them to leave me alone, leave her alone. She doesn't even want to be my friend anymore, I had to get moved away from her in maths, and it's just all shit," he rambled, a few tears rolling down his reddened cheeks.

"Oh, Lando..." she softly said, her heart breaking at the sight of his tears. He was never one to cry, or get overly emotional about stuff. He was a typical teenage boy in many aspects, and his emotions were no exception. He liked to keep things to himself, only letting is feelings show when they were hitting him in overwhelming bouts.

"Does she think you're saying things about her?" she asked, not wanting to upset him even more. 

"No, I don't think so. She just said she doesn't want to be seen near me when I went to go see her in the library like I normally do, and she was crying before maths to our teacher." he explained, and she was at a complete loss on what to do. "The stuff they say to her is just... God it's awful..." he mumbled, wiping away his tears. 

"Sweetheart I know this is probably the last thing you want to hear right now, but is that Y/N walking home?" she asked, and the question caught him off guard. Funnily enough, he looked out the window to see you trudging home. 

You had your hands stuffed in your pockets with your headphones plugged in your ears, your breath appearing like mist in front of you. That was when it dawned on him that your parents hadn't come to pick you up, you had taken it upon yourself to make the nearly hour long walk home in the freezing winter temperatures. 

"Yeah. Yeah it is," he confirmed, suddenly conflicted. His mum would obviously want to give you a ride, and he did too. He didn't want you walking home in the biting cold, but he also didn't think he could take seeing you upset, or you seeing him upset. 

But his heart won out. "Can we take her home, please?" he quietly asked, and his mum nodded, pulling over onto the pavement so that she could get out to talk to you. Lando got out to hop in the back, wanting to give you the front seat with his mum. 

"Y/N? Sweetheart? Do you need a ride?" she asked, approaching you as you pulled your headphones out of your ears. She could see the redness around your eyes, undoubtedly from crying.

"No, no. But thank you," you weakly smiled, the pained expression on your face making it impossible for her to just let you go.

"Lando told me about what's been happening. I understand why you don't want to be near him right now, but there's no one around, I will get you home and warm as quickly as possible." she reassured, hell bent on not leaving until she had you in the car. 

"OK," you agreed, walking to the car and getting in the front seat. Lando had already cranked up the heating and put the heated seats on for you, the leather warming underneath you. You knew he was on the backseat, but you refused to acknowledge him. 

Deep down, you knew you were being unnecessarily harsh towards Lando. He hadn't done anything wrong, and he had tried to be there for you in the best way he knew possible. Thankfully, he knew you weren't pushing him away because of him directly, it was because of what being around him brought you. 

He was sure that you still liked him, and he didn't take this personally. Yet it didn't stop him longing for you to be his friend again, to banter and joke with you and to just spend time with you like he used to. 

From his bag, he pulled out that same navy sweater and handed it to you, and you accepted it with a small smile in the rear view mirror. Your fingertips brushed against his as your fists closed around the fabric, the cold of your hands stinging his skin. 

You shrugged your coat off of your shoulders, pulling the jumper over your head. It was still too big on you, the sleeves stopping up to your knuckles. If you were standing, it would hand down to the tops of your thighs.

The drive to your house was silent, the only sound being the heating flowing through the vents as well as the occasional ticks of the indicators. After a short while of driving, you pulled up outside of your house.

Lando waited in the car as his mum escorted you to the door, a warm expression on her face. "Come here," she quietly said, opening her arms out to you. Without a second thought, you let herself fall into her embrace, softly shaking with silent sobs. 

"I know it's hard darling, I know it is," she whispered to you, one hand reaching up to stroke your hair. "It'll get better, I promise." she tried to reassure. 

For Lando, it was one of the worst scenes he had to bear witness to. He had seen you crying more than he had seen you smile as of recent, and it was killing him inside. He wanted to get out of the car and hug you as well, but he didn't want to run the risk of upsetting you even more.

Once you were settled in the house, his mum finished the drive home and let him have some piece. In his room, he sat at his desk, just mindlessly staring into space. You were all he could think about, and he couldn't shake you off. 

The sight of your tear-stained face was clouding his mind like an early-morning fog that he couldn't blow away. His eyes fell upon your pieces of wood for your DT project on his desk, as well as the maths homework he wouldn't be able to give you to finish. 

At this point, the deal didn't matter. Sure, you still had 3 weeks of homework of his to do, and he still had to do your workshop stuff for another week, but that was the least of his concerns. But he still wanted to do it for you. 

Lando had skipped dinner, not feeling hungry enough to go downstairs to eat. He also didn't feel like being held to people's questions and talks about what everyone had been up to in the day. He just needed some time alone. 

Just before he was going to take himself to an early bed, there was a knock at his bedroom door. "Yeah?" he called out, the door opening to reveal his mum.

"How are you doing?" she asked, entering and coming to sit next to him on the edge of his bed. 

"I'm... fine," he lied, not wanting to delve into the complexity of his feelings. He didn't want to have to voice his deeper rooted mindset on you. He couldn't tell if he was upset that now you'd never consider being anything more than his friend, or if he was more saddened by the fact that you didn't even want to be his friend anymore. 

He had been grappling with his feelings for the past couple of days, shocked at how quickly they had settled into his mind. Lando had never developed such a strong admiration for anyone in his entire life - even if every crush he had ever had was based off of purely superficial factors. 

But you weren't like that. Yes, he thought you were one of the prettiest girls he had ever laid his eyes upon, but it wasn't the driving motive for his feelings. He liked your personality, your humour, how goddamn smart you were. 

Seeing you thrive in the environment you worked best in was so fulfilling to him, and it was one of the many reasons he held you so dear to him. Yet he didn't know what to do about his feelings. He didn't want to ruin your friendship by telling you, but he didn't want to miss the opportunity to have something real with you. 

You were special to him, oh so special. He liked the idea of you as his girlfriend. Walking you to class, studying together, getting to sit together whenever you wanted and the comments wouldn't get to you because you'd be his. Maybe you'd even be able to sneak in a few kisses when no one was looking. 

Despite being the most sought-after boy in highschool, and the closest thing to an american 'jock' that a british secondary school had to offer, he still hadn't really delved into anything relationship-wise. No kisses for the sake of it, nothing. Hell, even Max had kissed a girl at a party once, but Lando never had.

"I'm really proud of you, you know," she said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and tugging him closer to her. "You did the right thing today, even if it wasn't the most pleasant option for you," she continued. 

"I know you want her to be your friend again, but you've just got to give her time. People will forget about it and move onto someone else soon enough, but you've just got to wait it out and be there for her when she wants you, which she will. You're both very overwhelmed and neither of you know what to do, but it'll all work out." she reassured, kissing him on top of his curly locks.

"It doesn't bother me what they say to me, it's the fact that she's so upset by it... that's what makes it worse," he quietly admitted, leaning into his mum's comforting embrace. They sat there for a while, just hugging. 

"You need to get some sleep, sweetheart. You've just got tomorrow then all weekend, yeah? We can do whatever you want, with whoever." she told him, wanting to make his weekend as good as possible. 

"I've got homework to do," he sighed, thinking over all the assignments that he wouldn't be able to have your help with. Glancing back over at the desk, he saw the remnants of your DT project sitting there, his mind now set on doing this for you. 

"You can do it on Sunday," she told him, trying to sway him into just having fun for a day. She wanted to cheer her son up after the shitty few days that he had gone through, and he deserved a bit of respite. 

"But I want to finish off Y/N's project... I promised..." he whispered, the words tugging at his mum's heart strings. She had never seen her son so attached to someone, so desperate to please them and make them happy. 

She was proud of him, proud of the man he was becoming. It was obvious how much he cared for you, and she really hoped that you'd allow him back in again, than you'd allow him to be your friend and maybe more again. 

"How about you ask dad to help you with it on Sunday? Make it really special?" she suggested, and she noticed the slight light sparking in his eyes at the idea. 

"Yeah, I think I'll do that," he nodded, already running through the different possibilities of what he could do on your project to make it best in the class. He may have been struggling, but it wasn't going to stop him from trying to make you happy.

No matter what anyone said, how they made him feel, how they forced you to push him away, he'd always try for you. You made him a better version of himself, a version that worked hard and cared about more than just getting through school and being cool while doing it. 

You made him care about his grades, how he spoke to people, his actions. You made him better. You made him want to be better. For you. All of it was for you. 

A/N - I know, I've not posted anything in a week, I am sorry. I have been working on this one all week, and I have started the next part for y'all. Something about writing highschool Lando just hits different. It would be the same if I did Charles, Carlos, Max etc, but they would be in a british highschool because that's what I know best. Anyways, have a wonderful day/night, love y'all! 💖🤓

tag list: @anvi-sarai @robotchickenmerp @cheriladycl01

|masterlist|

[fluentmoviequoter]

Just a Dog Walker

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x grad student!dog walker!fem!reader

Summary: As Tim's dog walker, and nothing more, you grow close to him and Kojo. After protecting Kojo from a dog fight, you learn how Tim really sees you.

Warnings: dog attack, dog bite (r), fluffy ending. (Kojo is totally fine!)

Word Count: 3.5k+ words

A/N: More Kojo, what the world really needs.

“Sergeant Bradford, come to my office for a minute?” Wade asks.

“No,” Tim answers quickly. “Uh, sorry. No, sir, I can’t.”

Crossing his arms, Wade inquires, “Why not?”

A low huff is audible in Tim’s office, but Wade knows it isn’t him.

“Is yo’ dog under that desk?”

“No.”

“Let me amend the question. Is Kojo under the desk?”

Kojo barks happily, trying to push past Tim to visit Wade. Wade shakes his head, dropping his arms.

“Why is he here?”

“I’m working a double and I couldn’t leave him at home. What if he had run out of water or needed to go out?” Tim answers.

“You know, here in sunny Los Angeles, there are more people than I can count who are certified dog sitters.”

“Kojo doesn’t like strangers.”

“Just Kojo? Look, Tim, I get it, the bond between a man and his dog. But, there has to be a boundary, a separation somewhere. I’ll call Luna, she’s got friends with dogs and trusted, bonded employees who watch their dogs. Walk ‘em daily, train ‘em, do everything while you’re at work.”

“I can take care of my dog by myself.”

“Not while you’re at work, Bradford. He can stay for now, Lord knows he’s a better boy than you, but by the end of the week I want to know you’ve got someone to care for him.”

Tim grumbles, pushing his hands under the desk to pet Kojo. “I’ll take you up on Luna’s friends then.”

“She’ll call later.”

“You already asked her?”

“’Course I did. We have work to do. And, so you know, we can see Kojo’s paws under the desk. But nice try.”

“I tried, buddy,” Tim tells Kojo, passing him a treat from the container hidden in his desk drawer.

✯✯✯✯✯

Grad school is expensive, but since you don’t have the degree level you are striving for, you need a different job to get you through. Pushing 30 and being a dog walker isn’t ideal, but it’s paying the bills. One of your neighbors helped you open a business with proper insurance and licensing to care for the dogs of Los Angeles. 

Most of your clients live nearby, and you do your rounds twice daily, studying and attending classes between. One of your favorite clients has a friend named Luna, who you love. She gets you jobs, helps you out constantly, and is like a mother figure to you. You are forever grateful for her. So, when she calls, you rush to answer.

“Hey, Luna!” you answer. “How are you?”

“I’m good. How are you doing? Still working on your dissertation; making progress?”

“Slow but steady, yeah. What can I do for you?”

“This is actually something I can do for you. There’s a sergeant that works with Wade; he’s got a dog and needs someone trusted to take care of his dog while he’s at work. He’s been sneaking Kojo into the station and Wade had to ask him to stop.”

“Kojo? That’s an adorable name. But, yeah, I’d be happy to meet him.”

“Awesome! His name’s Tim. I will send him your number and have Wade force him to set something up.”

“Is Tim a little rough around the edges, typical cop type?”

“Not typical, no… Just- you’ll see when you meet him. He’s great, though, deep down.”

“I’ll try to remember that. Thanks, Luna.”

“See you Friday?”

“See you Friday.”

You sit back, writing the name ‘Tim’ on your dog-walking calendar. Another client would be great for your wallet, but it seems like this sergeant will take some convincing before he hires you. This is understandable, of course, because you wouldn’t let just anyone take care of your babies, and dogs are just four-legged babies. 

“Please be as great as Luna said,” you whisper before returning your attention to the research before you.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Yeah, I texted her. We’re meeting at an outdoor café tonight,” Tim says before Wade can ask. “But if I don’t like her or if Kojo doesn’t like her, I’m going to keep looking.”

“Got it,” Wade answers. “But you’ve got more double shifts in your future, so don’t take too long trying to find a ‘perfect’ dog walker.”

Tim nods, hoping he can find a way out of letting a stranger into his house to take care of his dog. He checked your name, and your business seems legitimate, but there’s no way of knowing. Luckily, he and Kojo are both excellent judges of character.

✯✯✯✯✯

Luna sent you a picture of Kojo, and you spot him immediately. The man sitting beside him, though, is breathtakingly handsome. You’re shocked that he doesn’t have female neighbors and friends lining up at his door, offering to take care of Kojo (and him). 

“Hi, Mr. Bradford?” you ask.

Kojo looks up at you and pants, his tail slapping against Tim’s leg.

“Yes. Nice to meet you,” Tim replies, offering his hand.

Shaking his hand, you glance down at Kojo. When Tim releases his grip, you squat and extend your hand for Kojo to sniff. He flips your hand up with his snout, stepping closer to you.

“I’m sure Luna told you that I’m a cop,” Tim continues, drawing your attention away from Kojo.

You sit beside him, lowering a hand to pat Kojo’s head. “She did, sir.”

“Then you know that if anything were to happen to my house during or after your visit, I could very easily charge you with any number of crimes. And I won’t tell you what I would do if something happened to Kojo while under your care.”

You can’t tell if his threat is legitimate, so you nod in understanding.

“Yes, sir, I understand. Kojo’s safety, and your home, of course, are of the utmost importance and I will do everything I can to do right by both of you.”

Tim nods, watching Kojo for a moment. “You’re good with him. He’s not always so welcoming with strangers; scared one of my girlfriends away once. So, I’m going to give you a chance.”

“Amazing. Thank you, sir. I promise you won’t regret it.”

“What do we need to do to get started?”

“I can offer you a few days free, as a trial run. And if you still want to keep me on afterward, we can discuss payment, sir.”

“That’s unnecessary. I need someone to take care of Kojo and you seem to be the best fit.”

“Okay. Then I will email you a link to create a client account and my website has a portal to pay. Luna mentioned that you work overnight sometimes, so if you needed me to do later or earlier visits, I can do that too, sir.”

“Sounds good.”

Tim stands, wiping his hand on his jeans before offering his hand again.

“Nice to meet you and I look forward to your email.”

“You, too. And thank you.”

Petting Kojo once more, you smile before walking away. You didn’t expect him to be so attractive, so you have to remember that he clarified you’re his dogwalker, and he doesn’t even really want a dogwalker.

Determined to make him see the benefits of someone caring for Kojo, you add him to your schedule before he even pays you. Money is no longer a concern; you’re already in love with Kojo, and now, you need to focus on not falling for his owner, too.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What’d you think about her? I know you hired her, but what’d you think personally?” Luna asks, standing in Wade’s office.

Tim shrugs. “She’s very polite. Seems driven, hard-working, responsible.”

“Well, now that you’ve read her resumé, have anything else to add?”

Tim doesn’t answer, and Wade guesses, “She makes you nervous?”

“A little.”

“What?” Luna exclaims. “She’s the sweetest!”

“Not like that, Luna,” Wade interjects. “Someone wasn’t expecting a pretty dog walker.”

“Oh. Tim Bradford, I wasn’t sure you still had it in you.”

“She is taking care of Kojo. Yes, she is beautiful, but this won’t go any farther than a business agreement.”

“Care to bet on that?” Wade asks.

“No,” Tim answers before leaving and closing the door behind him.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey, Kojo, Kojo,” you call, entering Tim’s house with the key he had made for you.

Kojo’s nails click on the flooring, rushing to greet you.

“Hey, buddy. You miss your dad? I bet you do.”

As you slide Kojo’s harness over his front legs, he licks your face, and you laugh, scratching his chest before standing to connect his leash. Kojo has quickly become your favorite dog. You visit several throughout the day, but Kojo is the sweetest and the most handsome.

When you return to Tim’s side door, it’s standing open. You know that you closed and locked it, so you pull Kojo’s leash tight, stepping back as you prepare to run.

“It’s just me!” Tim yells from inside. “Sorry, my hands were full, and I couldn’t close the door.”

Sighing in relief, you lead Kojo inside, closing the door behind you and locking it instinctually.

“Honey, we’re home!” you call.

Tim freezes in the kitchen at your teasing, borderline flirtatious tone. You remove Kojo’s leash and harness and put it away, following him as he runs toward Tim.

“Why are you home so early?” you ask.

“I worked all night,” Tim answers. “Thought you’d feel my absence through our connection.”

You chuckle at Tim’s flirting. After the second meeting, it became much easier to talk to him. Interestingly enough, Tim started the flirtatious tendencies. You tend to stick to business-related topics, but sometimes it feels like you’re just two friends – maybe more – and you forget you’re just his dog walker.

“Everything go okay at work, sir? Kojo, for one, had a great day.”

Tim says your name, a sigh more than anything. “I told you a week ago to stop calling me sir.”

“Sorry, sir- Tim.”

Tim looks away suddenly, turning his attention to the bags he carried inside while you were walking Kojo.

“Did you even wonder where Kojo was?” you ask.

“No. I know his dog walker is punctual… and a control freak.”

“Planning my day doesn’t make me a control freak!”

“You have it planned to the minute.”

“To accommodate you,” you grumble.

“Yet you won’t let me take you on a date.”

“You won’t ask.”

You fall silent, and when you think you took it too far, Kojo barks and makes you both laugh. Talking to Tim is easy, but no matter how much you love Kojo or think you could be more, you must keep everything in perspective. Tim is older, a police sergeant, and you are his college student dog walker.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hello?” you ask, answering your phone and rubbing your eyes as you look away from the computer screen.

“Hey,” Tim says. “I’m so sorry for the late notice but I’m going to be here overnight. Could you-“

“I’ll go over now.”

“Listen, it’s crazy out there right now. If you want to stay there, please do. I don’t want you out more than you have to be.”

“Tim, that’s not necessary.”

“Please. It’s not just for your safety; I’ll feel better knowing that you’re somewhere safe.”

“Okay,” you reply. “As long as you’re sure.”

“I’m insisting. Kojo is a cuddler, but that’s all you have to fear there.”

“Oh, you should have started with that. Kojo cuddles sound amazing.”

“Long day?”

“Not as long as yours. I’ll text you when I get there. Thank you, Tim.”

“Thank you. I’ll be back in the morning.”

“See you then.”

The drive to Tim’s house is short, but you hear several police sirens. Whatever they’re dealing with does seem (as Tim put it) crazy. Once you’re inside and the alarm is reset, you collapse on the couch and let Kojo cuddle up to you. You feel weirdly close to Tim, too, probably from being in his house. Falling asleep here is easy; you’re at peace, happy, and cuddled by a warm, loving dog.

✯✯✯✯✯

Waking up is not quite as peaceful. Tim is taking a picture, and when you grunt, he lowers the phone and smiles.

“That’s adorable,” he states.

“I’m quitting,” you murmur, throwing an arm over Kojo.

“You know, he didn’t even come see me when I got home? He’s a cheater, although I can’t blame him. It does look pretty comfortable.”

Ignoring him, you move closer to Kojo.

“Consider this my two hours’ notice.”

Tim chuckles, and the couch dips by your feet as he sits. When you sit up, he’s leaning back with his eyes closed.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Yeah, just tired.”

“Well, I’ll get out of your way so you can rest. Need me to come back later?”

“No, I’m here all day. If you want to stay, you can.”

“I have a paper to finish,” you lament. “But I appreciate it.”

“Anytime.” You’re gathering your things when Tim reiterates, “Seriously. You’re always welcome here.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you later.”

“Drive safe.”

✯✯✯✯✯

It’s cloudy in Los Angeles, like a bad omen. So, you’re seriously considering taking Tim’s previous offer of staying at his house to work. Kojo is the last dog you visit, and you look down at him as he sniffs the base of a streetlight.

“Mind if I stay with you for the rest of the day?” you ask him.

Kojo’s tail wags faster, but he’s still more interested in the light than you.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Kojo picks his head up, continuing toward the corner as you lead him down the sidewalk. You see something move up the road and command Kojo to stop. Unsure if it’s a dog or some other animal, you wait a moment before walking again.

With your attention on the unknown shadow before you, you fail to hear a dog running up behind you. Kojo turns suddenly, and you don’t register what’s happening as you push him out of the way.

Another dog, about Kojo’s size, with no leash or owner in sight, is on top of you. Kojo is barking, trying to help, but you yell at him to stay back.

“Kojo, sit!” you yell over the other dog’s growling.

Your yell turns to a cry of pain when the dog’s jaw clamps down on your arm, his claws digging into your side.

“Get off!” you yell, your adrenaline giving you the strength to push back. 

Once you’re sitting up, you use your legs to free yourself from the dog’s grip. Kojo is behind you, unharmed, and you need to keep it that way. Flipping yourself on top of the dog, it releases your arm before moving its legs wildly, raking a paw across your face as it tries to move away.

“Go!” you yell harshly, moving enough to let it up.

Stomping your foot after it, you show the dog you’re in charge and wait in front of Kojo until it’s out of sight.

“Kojo, we have to go,” you say quickly, grabbing his leash and limping behind him as he leads you home.

Kojo focuses on getting you inside, and when you close the door and fall to the floor, he moves to your side. He whimpers, and you want to comfort him, but you are growing dizzy.

“You okay, boy?” you mumble.

You scream in pain when you raise your hand to check that Kojo is okay. After dropping your arm, your breathing grows shallow as tears stream down your face. Kojo whines again, and you want to reach for your phone, but your arms feel too heavy to move. Looking down, you suddenly realize the severity of what happened. Covered in blood and with no strength to call for help, you whisper an apology to Kojo and let your eyes drift close.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim sighs as he turns onto his street. He’s ready to see Kojo and, if he’s lucky, you. When Tim sees your car in the driveway, he smiles and rushes toward the door. That happiness quickly disappears when he notices the trail of blood leading up the driveway. Walking to the sidewalk, he sees that it leads nearly to the corner. Racing to the backdoor, which has a large blood smear below a clear handprint, Tim keeps a hand on his gun as he unlocks the door.

Kojo’s whimpering greets Tim, and when he looks down, he sees that Kojo has blood on him. Kojo looks over quickly, and Tim follows his movement. Whatever fear he felt when he saw the blood on Kojo is multiplied when he sees you.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Tim calls for an ambulance before kneeling beside you.

“Is Kojo okay?” you ask weakly.

“He’s okay,” Tim promises, leaning closer in a poor attempt to find the source of your blood. “What hurts?”

“What doesn’t? Did you check on Kojo? He seemed okay but I couldn’t make sure the blood was mine.”

Tim turns, running his hands all over Kojo. The blood is only on his fur, evidently not his.

“He’s fine,” Tim repeats, his voice breaking at the end. “You are not.”

“There was a dog free running and I- I didn’t see it. Kojo stayed behind me so I need him to be okay.”

Tears are running down your face again, mixing with the blood. Tim wants to wipe them away, but the clear claw mark over your cheek deters him.

“There’s an ambulance on the way, you’re going to be okay.”

“I’m sorry, Tim.”

“Don’t you dare apologize. Just stay awake.”

“Kojo- Kojo’s a good boy,” you mumble.

“He is. Can you please keep your eyes on me? The ambulance is almost here.”

You nod, and the last thing you remember is Tim’s apologetic look and a painful pressure on your side.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Tim, are you coming with?” Bailey asks.

Tim stares at the bloodstain on his floor and up his wall rather than looking toward her. “I’ll be there soon.”

“We’ll keep you updated. She’ll be okay.”

Tim nods and waits for the EMTs to exit the house before he begins cleaning. He scrubs until every trace of your blood is erased from inside and on the door. After animal control captured the dog, several officers went out to find the dog's owner. Nolan promised to come by and clean the driveway, so Tim concentrated his efforts inside.

“Alright, Kojo, our turn,” Tim calls, letting Kojo into the bathroom to remove the blood from his fur. 

After Tim cleans Kojo and himself and throws away the blood-stained rags and cleaning supplies, he gathers his things to visit you in the hospital.

“I’ll be back with our girl,” Tim promises Kojo as he leaves.

✯✯✯✯✯

“I’m sorry.” You can’t stop the apology when Tim walks in.

“Stop apologizing. You kept that dog away from Kojo and I don’t- I can’t lose you. I walked in and you were covered in blood… I should have told you before that I care about you.”

“It’s my job to take care of Kojo,” you whisper.

Tim moves to the side of the bed, gently taking your hand. “You are not just a dog walker. I’ve been falling for you since the moment I laid eyes on you. The fact that you love Kojo solidified it for me.”

“I- I have feelings for you too,” you admit.

“They told me your pretty face won’t scar.”

“I barely even remember what happened.”

Tim sits beside your legs as he tells you, “Nolan and Celina arrested the dog’s owner. It wasn’t the first time he had done this.”

“Given a poor, unsuspecting college student thirty stitches while she’s just trying to spend the afternoon in her crush’s house? Oddly specific crime. What’s the code for that?”

Tim chuckles, gently squeezing your hand. “You can go home now. If you’re still up to spend some time in your crush’s house.”

“Tim-“

“Don’t tell me I don’t have to. I want to, need to.”

“I would love to spend time with you and Kojo. But I’m not sure I’m up for flirting today, handsome.”

“After the day you’ve had, just sit back and I’ll do all the flirting.”

“’Preciate that, sir.”

Tim laughs as he exits the room to complete your discharge paperwork. You smile behind him, hoping you’re not dreaming, and you finally told him how you feel.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Kojo,” Tim chides. “Give her some room.”

“You cleaned all the blood?”

Tim gently directs your eyes to him, leaning close to remind you, “You’re more than just a dog walker. Worth the time, the effort, the love, all of it.”

“Love?”

“Yeah. Kojo really loves you.”

You laugh, quickly remembering that you have several stitches on your side.

“Careful,” Tim requests.

“Are you certified to help someone sit still while stitches hold their side closed?” you ask.

“Depends on the patient. You? Absolutely.”

Tim helps you get comfortable on the couch before walking to the kitchen to gather some water and snacks. When he returns, Kojo is cuddled up to your uninjured side.

“Really? Again?” Tim asks.

“I love you,” you say, completely distracting Tim as he kneels before you. “But I also think I really want to quit this time.”

Tim laughs, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “That’s fine. I am looking for a girlfriend rather than a dog walker now anyway.”

“Care to see my resumé?”

“Memorized it last time.”

[lilac-5ky]

Aftercare (Toji xFem!Reader)

Summary: A little something where Toji takes care of his darling after a rough session.

w.c: slightly over 800

tags: MDNI, mentions of spanking, creampie, overstimulation, choking, deep throating, daddy kink, marking, Toji being a softie

“You fuck me as if you hate me,” you say with voice shaky, completely out of breath and barely of volume as Toji’s final strand of tousled obsidian hair fades past the door frame, the world slowing down just a bit.

And it is true. He’s left plenty of evidence on your body to be accused of such a heinous crime— The swollen folds of your reddened cunt and the gaping hole that dribbles rich ropes of cum (Toji never liked the idea of wasting a good load on rubber), both agonizing over his absence. The glossy eyes and smeared lipstick (You’d worked so hard to look good for your first-anniversary dinner). The rough imprints of his calloused fingers already settling into a darker shade of pink around your throat. The purple bruises that bloom across your skin like debouched morning glories, cascading all the way down to the sore nipples he’d thoroughly sucked, licked, and bitten into this obscene state.

And that’s only as far as your front side is concerned. No need to think about the persistent sting on both your cheeks or the mean palms that relentlessly smacked them whenever you protested you couldn’t take it— Him.

Don’t go back on me now, sweetheart. I know you can. Pussy’s made for daddy’s cock, mm?

Toji really fucked you as if he despised you with every fiber of his being, but all notion of hatred seems to evaporate when he comes back with a towel drenched in hot water and a warm cup of chamomile. He scoops you in his arms so effortlessly, tucking your head below his chin as if it’s the most precious thing to him— and it just might be, with the way he wipes his mess from between your jiggly thighs, nub so sensitive that when his knuckles brush up against it a whimper is coaxed.

Shhh, he coos, and you feel the timbre of his voice melting in your ears; reverberating in his chest, littered with little crescent moons that trace back to his broad shoulders. You aren’t the one to go down without a fight. You clawed and thrashed your way out of every shuddering orgasm he ripped out, proving the hatred run mutual between the two of you, and at the reminder you smile. A shy smile, not for his eyes, but for his body to feel, as the curl of your lips pressed against each and every kitten claw you could find.

His first instinct is to flinch away. He’s not used to an affection that isn’t packed with pain, but he’s been learning and making steady progress. Because as good as Toji is at hating people to death, he’s come to know that love has ways of killing, too. He feels it every time your eyes meet across a full room; every time your head lifts from your delicate prose to catch him staring rather crudely; every time you welcome him with a grin, even the times when he’s soaked in blood from head to toe, and every time his name leaves your lips as either a moan or a chant, he threads it into a rosary.

The man he once was before he met you is no longer in existence. The wretched, vile, beast of a man who lived for himself and cursed all others. He hasn’t taken on a new gig in months. Hangs up the phone whenever he sees Shiu’s name on it and has memorized all his burner phone numbers. Rejects the heftiest bounties so that your tears, whenever you search for new scarlet strokes on him, remain sheathed behind your eyelids.

He doesn’t want to have to say he’s sorry again. Even if he’s somehow become worthy of your love, he doesn’t think scum like him should be worthy of your worrying. He is an inmate on death row and you are his executioner, and how fitting that is, for he can’t think of a better way to die than from the choke hold around his heart.

He makes sure the towel picks up every last residue of his essence, blows at the smoking cup, and tips it closer to your lips. You gobble it up so fast, dehydrated from the brutal gagging session he subjected you to, and he should be ashamed that seeing you this broken makes his cock twitch again. He still has a few more rounds left in him, but he’ll hold back. As fun as ruining you and reassembling you is, he needs you whole right now.

Once the cup is drained, he sets it on the nightstand and scrubs your jaw with the pad of his thumb. He wonders if the beverage made it down your throat because there’s water running all over your tits. So messy, he hums and reaches for the towel again, and the words that follow, flow so naturally.

“I fuck you because I love fucking you. I fuck you because I fucking love you.”

A/N: brainrot brainrot brainrot brainrot brainrot, h e l p. In the process of writing a proper smut about him. Not sure when it'll drop cause I'm swamped.

[black00olive]

Diavolo, Come Back To Sleep

A/N: How I feel after referencing Hamilton in the title: 🤓 Anyway, I've been cranking out fics like no tomorrow recently what's up with me o.o

Pairing: Diavolo x reader, a sprinkle of everyone else x reader too but it could be read as onesided or just platonic

Wordcount: ~1,200

Summary: Diavolo wakes up early, it’s required of him as future king, but it’s hard to do so when you’re here with him.

Sometimes— no, that’s not right, he shouldn’t try to lie to himself— Often Diavolo finds himself regretting his decision to have you live under the same roof as the brothers. He’s never enjoyed having these thoughts, seeing as his decision is what has led to so much progress towards his goal of bringing harmony between the three realms. The situation he currently finds himself in would never have been possible if it weren’t for you living in the House of Lamentation and subsequently having pacts with the brothers. Yet, despite these facts Diavolo finds himself grown used to the jealousy that had bloomed in his heart long ago.

The brothers probably see this sight very often, he’s heard from Lucifer how often his brothers tend to find their way to your room in the middle of the night (Lucifer is careful about how he phrases it, as if Diavolo’s internal lie detector would go off is he actually claimed he wasn’t like his brothers). How lucky, Diavolo thinks, bitter jealousy coursing his veins as he brushes away a stray strand of hair from your face. The light touch makes your nose scrunch up and your eyebrows furrow as you slowly shake your head as if to try and shake off whatever it was that touched you. His chest rumbles as he lets out a quiet, groggy chuckle and he feels his jealousy wash away as if it had been nothing but a bad dream. Even when not awake your antics seem to always calm him. The brothers might have had you like this before, but this morning you’re his and his alone.

As he stares at your peaceful, sleeping face he finds himself wondering what you're dreaming about— if you’re dreaming about anything at all. In any case, Diavolo can’t help himself from speculating on what it could even be that you would dream about. Maybe you’re dreaming about going on some great adventure in the jungle or desert or sea. Perhaps you’re dreaming of something more fantastical like being a superhero and saving the world— Ah, however, you did once say that your likes tended to lean more towards the villains most of the time, so perhaps you’re dreaming of something more sinister— more demon-like? Diavolo finds himself smiling at the thought, wouldn’t that be something? Either way, he thinks as he feels the slow, steady rise and fall of your chest against his body and your breath fanning ever so gently on his shoulder, whatever it is your dreaming of he wishes to make it come true. There is very little he wouldn’t do to see your beautiful and bright smile grace your face. When he had first realised that he had been a little terrified over the sheer power you held over him, but now he can’t help but feel some pride over it. Of course you— and only you— are the one that holds such power, it makes sense. In his hearts, it seems right.

Barbatos quietly enters his chambers and it forces Diavolo out of his thoughts. How unfortunate, he thinks as Barbatos pulls open the blinds in his room (though it doesn’t have much impact considering the perpetual night the Devildom is stuck in) and reminds him that it is time he starts to prepare himself for the day. He lets out a half-hearted protest but he knows that he truly doesn’t have much of a choice in the matter. This is just one part of his never-ending responsibilities as crown prince and future king. Barbatos gives him a sympathetic smile as his eyes quickly flick to your sleeping form, understanding evident in his eyes. It’s a curse that you are so charming that you have even his butler wrapped around your finger.

Closing the door as he leaves Barbatos is showing that he trusts Diavolo to be able to get up himself even with you in his arms. Usually, if he refused to get up when Barbatos told him to, Barbatos would simply force him up. However, in this case that would rouse you and right now you look so sound, neither of them have the hearts to do that.

Diavolo sighs as he gently lets his hold of you go. He stops all movements when your face scrunches up and you start to mumble something incoherent. Once you stop, Diavolo continues to slowly get out of bed; he really needs to get up now and he really wants you to continue sleeping, and it’s proving quite difficult to achieve both things simultaneously. Eventually Diavolo finally manages to get out of bed (though it had taken about 10 minutes longer than average) and he starts to get ready. He grabs the shirt Barbatos had laid out for him and starts to get dressed. It’s moments like these seeds of resentment start to bury themselves in his heart, right now he’d like nothing more than to lie back down with you until you decide it’s time to get up. However, duty calls and his duties are the most important of all.

“Dia?” You mumble as you rub your eyes and Diavolo instantly turns to you. He feels his hearts melt at the sight that greets him, you clearly still halfway asleep and slowly blinking at him with bleary eyes. “It’s so early, why are you getting up?”

Chuckling he walks back over to the bed and sits on the edge of his bed. “I have to get ready for the day,” he presses a chaste kiss on your forehead, “you should sleep some more.” He had only managed to get halfway dressed before you had woken up, so he stands up and goes to finish getting dressed. Feeling a small tug on the back of his shirt he stops and turns back to you, a mistake he quickly realises as he stares at you. A small frown, bordering on a pout, finds itself on your face and Diavolo doubts if you’re fully conscious currently.

“C’mon, you can stay with me a little longer can’t you?” You ask and Diavolo finds it getting increasingly difficult to deny you. He shakes his head and gently removes your hand from his undershirt before he walks over to where Barbatos had left his clothes. Quiet rustling of duvets and comforters and light steps over his floor is all he hears before you wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head against his back. “Diavolo, come back to sleep,” you start and he wonders if you purposefully know what you’re doing, “c'mon,” you plead and he lets go of the clothes he’s holding in his hands. You’re too powerful for your own good, Diavolo thinks as he turns to face you. He sighs before giving you a small smile. “Alright,” he whispers as if Barbatos will hear him if he says it too loudly. He’ll deal with Barbatos’ lectures later.

Right now, he just needs to sleep with you a little longer.

[darksigns-exe]

sudden desire - noah sebsatian x reader

warnings: handjob (m receiving), subby noah, a little angsty moment near the end

word count: 1.7k

note: a little birthday treat for my dear @deathblacksmoke <3

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You know he’s had a long day as soon as he walks into your apartment. He’s quiet, more so than usually, his shoulders are tense and there’s a persistent frown on his face. 

You usher Noah under the shower, telling him to take his time, but that you’ll fix him something to eat in the meantime. 

You’ve been friends for a few years now, and you like to think that you’re somewhat close. Noah frequently uses your place as an escape from band related things. When things get a little too much for him at home, he shows up at your place, and you gladly take him in. You know that you can rely on him just as much. No matter what time of day it is — if he’s in town, he’s coming to your rescue. Even if the dilemma is just a late night ice cream craving. 

While Noah showers, you fix him a plate of left over lasagna. He tells you about the songs they’re more or less working on. Progress has been slow recently. Apparently, he and Jolly have butted heads over where to take the song, and you can tell that it’s getting to him. 

Noah settles against you, while you catch up with the reality show that you’ve started a while ago. Over the course of the episode, he slowly slips further down, until he eventually ends up with his head in your lap. You know that he’d never outright ask for this. And still, he ends up in that spot. 

As always, your fingers card through his hair and with every pass Noah seems to relax more and more. You let your fingers scrape against his scalp just enough and, to your surprise, he lets out a breathy little noise. You try to keep your movements steady, hoping that it’ll relax him further. 

Noah shifts against you. 

You glance down at him. His eyes are fixed on the television, but something tells you that he’s not paying attention to it.

So far, your friendship has never moved past the conventional rules of friendship, but something about the energy tonight makes you feel as if you might be able to push those rules a little. 

Your free hand finds its way to his side, fingers tracing across the sliver of skin revealed by his ridden up t-shirt. 

Noah draws in a sharp breath when your fingers make contact with his skin. 

You feel him tense up under your hand, and you pause immediately, unsure if you’ve gone too far. 

He looks up at you then, eyes blown so wide. There’s an unspoken question between you, but you can bring yourself to ask it out loud. 

Instead, you carefully resume your touch and slowly let your fingers explore more of his skin. 

Noah’s eyes flutter shut as he lets out a sigh. 

“Is this okay?” You finally ask. 

He drags his eyes open again. 

Noah draws in a shaky breath as he gives you a barely there nod. 

“Need a little help relaxing, huh?” You ask quietly. 

The sound he lets out then shakes you to the core. In all the time that you’ve known Noah, you’ve never seen him like this. 

“Please?” 

You can’t possibly say no to him then, even if this is entirely uncharted territory. You trust that Noah will tell you when something is off. 

Your hand continues to wander along his body. Noah eases back against you, his body becoming lax as you continue to play with his hair. 

After a few more minutes of that, you dare to let your hand drift lower. Your fingers skim across his tummy, and you feel the muscles jump and twitch under your touch. 

“Can you —” the words catch in his throat, as his breath hitches, “Would it be okay if you — I know we’ve never done this but — could get me off?”

You’ve never heard him sound so hesitant and — shy. You know that this could change things between you, but how are you supposed to say no to him? Noah doesn’t ask for affection, sometimes he just takes it, drapes himself over his friends like a fully grown Bernese mountain dog who still hasn’t realised that he’s not a puppy any more. But you can count the occasions on which he has asked for affection on one hand. And you won’t even need all five fingers. 

You need a moment to gather yourself, before you finally give him a reply. 

“I can do that.” His eyes light up a little at that, “What do you need?”

“Just your hand is okay.” His voice is so uncharacteristically quiet. 

Seeing him so meek is entirely new to you. Not that Noah is usually loud and brash. But today his whole demeanour seems changed, and you really cannot explain what could have brought this on. 

As slowly as you can manage, you work your hand behind the waistband of his sweats. He shifts when your fingers brush against the imprint of his cock on his underwear. You almost miss the little sound he makes. As your hand drifts across his length, you discover that he's quite a bit bigger than you thought he’d be. Not that you’ve spent a lot of time thinking about how big your best friend's dick is.

You pull his underwear down just enough to let his cock slip free. The breathless little sound he makes worms its way into your brain. 

To make things easier for yourself, you ease down his sweatpants too. 

Noah shivers when your hand curls around him. 

You set a slow rhythm, returning your attention to the show playing on the TV. You keep your movements steady. Between your hand in his hair and the one on his cock, you feel him relax against you quite quickly. 

Noah’s staggered breaths fill your ears. 

You glance down at him, finding him with his eyes wrought shut so tightly. His lips are pressed together, keeping himself silent. You’re determined to pull those pretty sounds from him, though. 

Noah gasps when you start to stroke him with more intention. You can’t help but smile. Seeing him like this, entirely at your mercy, only makes you want to see how much further you can push him. 

You shift your attention towards the head of his cock. Your teasing touch makes him shift and move against you. He looks so pretty writhing under your attention. His hips shift forward, trying to meet your touch. 

You halt your movements, but his hips won’t stop. For a few moments, he continues thrusting into your hand. And when he finally notices that you aren’t moving any more, Noah lets out a quiet whine. 

His eyes flicker upwards, finding your face. 

“Why did you stop?” he asks, eyes so wide. 

You drag your hand out of his hair and trace it across his cheek. 

“You seemed to be so happy to get yourself off with my hand. Didn’t want to disrupt you.” 

His cheeks tinge bright pink then. 

“Do you want me to keep going?” 

Noah gives a near desperate nod, “Yes. Please.”

You start moving your hand along his length again. This time, his eyes stay fixed on yours. Your movements remain slow and teasing. 

The little crease in his brow appears soon after that, but he’s still holding back. Your hand tightens on him, hoping that it’ll draw a proper sound out of him. You think that you’ve almost got him where you want him, but once again Noah’s lips clamp shut. 

“You don’t have to be quiet, Noah.” you say, struggling to hide your amusement. 

You slowly drag your hand back up along his cock. 

He lets out a breathy whine when you tease the head with your thumb. His hips follow thee motion of your hand once again, but this time you don’t stop touching him. 

Whatever had stopped Noah from letting you hear him before, seemed to be out of the way now. His pretty whines and moans fill your ears. 

You decide to push your luck even further. 

“Does that feel good, hm?” 

Noah gives a frantic nod in return. 

“Be good. Let me hear you.” 

“So good.” the words are followed by another gasp. 

By now, he’s reduced to pretty whines. Occasionally, you hear a mumbled please from him. You think that he has to be so very close to his climax now. Noah looks so beautifully blissed out. 

“Please don’t stop.” Noah whines, looking up at you with tear stained eyes, “Please, I’m so close.” 

The way he whines and begs for you truly messes with your head. You’ve never been in a position like this, and really you’ve never imagined yourself here either. But now that you’re here, watching him fall apart at your hands, you feel so very comfortable. 

Noah spills his release across your hand a few short moments later. His body stiffens, growing taut as he rides out his high. 

When Noah’s sounds eventually quiets down again, you remove your hand from his cock. You reach for the box of tissues on the side table to wipe his release from your skin. And when you look back down at him, you find Noah already looking at you. 

He looks so soft and tired, exhausted in the best way possible. 

You tuck him back into his underwear and sweats, before you trace a hand across his cheek. 

“Feeling better?” you ask softly. 

Noah gives a nod, “Thank you. I’m sorry that I kinda sprung this on you.”

“I said yes, didn’t I?” your fingers trail along his jaw, “I could have said no.”

You both fall quiet for a while after that. 

Noah eventually breaks the silence again, asking if you’d mind if he stayed here tonight. Naturally, you say yes and a little while later, you’re both trying to get comfortable in your bed. You watch as Noah tosses and turns for a little while, before you decide that you’ve had enough. You shuffle closer to him and wrap your arm around his middle, keeping him close against your chest. 

“Try to get some sleep.” you mumble, as he slowly eases into your embrace. 

He’s still curled up in front of you when you wake up, and you can’t deny that it fills your heart with an odd kind of warmth. He trusts you so wholeheartedly. Your feelings towards Noah have always been friendly, but suddenly, you’re not so sure of that any more. For the sake of your friendship, you decide to push any of that towards the back of your mind.

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[mysticalmallard]

With their drunk girlfriend

Finally finished I have been working on this on and off for a few days as work has been really busy. I hope you guys enjoy it I am not sure what topic the next group drabble will be so let me know what you guys wanna see next ♥︎

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SoA Masterlist 🌸 Main Masterlist

Chibs

Chibs looked across at his girlfriend as she laughed loudly at something one of club hangarounds had said. It was easy to see that she was thoroughly drunk, as she stumbled about and slurred her words. He watched her with a mixture of amusement and affection, shaking his head at how adorable she was when she got wasted.

As the night progressed, Chibs kept a watchful eye on her, making sure she didn't do anything stupid or get into any trouble. He even stepped in when some drunk guy tried to flirt with her.

By the time the club party came to an end, his girlfriend was stumbling around bumping into things. Chibs chuckled and steadied her, slinging her arm around his shoulders to support her.

"Come on, lass, you're wasted," he said, leading her towards the exit. She giggled and leaned heavily against him, her legs apparently made of jelly.

"I'm not drunk," she protested, slurring her words. "I'm just... a little impaired."

"Uh-huh, sure you are," Chibs said, humoring her. "Just hold on tight, okay?"

He guided her to the parking lot where his bike was parked. He helped her on to the back seat, making sure she was sitting securely. As he straddled the bike, she wrapped her arms drunkenly around his waist and rested her chin on his shoulder.

"Mmm, you smell good," she mumbled, nuzzling her face against his neck. "Like... leather and... and... danger."

Chibs chuckled and shook his head, starting up the engine. "And you smell like beer and trouble, lass."

The ride back to her house was slow and careful. Chibs kept a steady pace, mindful of the inebriated passenger clinging to him like a koala. She kept giggling and commenting on how fun it was to be on the motorcycle, her words a slightly slurred mess.

When they finally arrived at her house, Chibs dismounted and helped her off the bike. She stumbled a bit, but he caught her, holding her against his chest.

"We're here, love," Chibs said, a fond smile tugging at his lips. "You made it in one piece."

She looked up at him with glassy eyes, her face flushed from the alcohol and the wind. "I had the best night ever," she declared, grinning goofily.

He chuckled and shook his head again. "I'm glad you had fun, but you're going to have a hell of a headache in the morning."

He led her up to her porch, his arm around her waist to keep her steady. She leaned on him heavily, her steps uneven.

Once they got to her front door, he pulled her keys from her purse and slowly unlocked the door. He steered her inside, flicking on the lights as they entered the quiet house.

He helped her to the couch and sat her down. She immediately flopped onto the cushions, a contented sigh escaping her lips.

Chibs looked down at her, a mixture of amusement and concern on his face. "Stay there, okay? I'm gonna get you some water."

He disappeared into the kitchen, leaving her on the couch. He rummaged through the fridge, finding a bottle of water. When he returned to the living room, she was already fast asleep, her body sprawled across the cushions.

Chibs couldn't help but smile at the sight of her asleep. He knelt down next to the couch, taking a moment to study her face. She looked so peaceful, a stark contrast to the wild laughter and stumbling from earlier.

He carefully placed the water bottle on the table, then reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes.

He sat down on the edge of the coffee table, his gaze never leaving her. He knew he should probably leave her to sleep off the alcohol, but part of him didn't want to go. He liked being near her like this, watching her chest rise and fall with each breath.

After a few moments, he let out a soft sigh. Reluctantly, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "Sweet dreams, love," he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur.

He stood up, giving her one last glance before reluctantly turning away. He switched off the lights as he left, shutting the front door behind him quietly.

Happy

Happy sat on the couch in his dimly lit apartment, holding a glass of whiskey, his eyes fixed on his girlfriend who was currently stumbling around, giggling to herself. She was clearly drunk, and had been for a while.

"Hey there, princess," he called out, setting his glass down on the table. "You need to sit down and rest before you fall down."

His girlfriend looked at him, her eyes half-lidded and glassy, a wide smile spreading across her face. "I'm fiiiine," she slurred, taking an exaggerated step forward, nearly tripping over her own feet. "I can totally walk."

Happy chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I've seen more coordination from a newborn deer," he said, standing up to approach her. "Come on, sit down before you hurt yourself."

His girlfriend pouted but didn't protest as he gently took her by the elbow and led her to the couch. She flopped down onto the cushions with a heavy sigh, looking up at him with a grin that was equal parts cute and ridiculous. "You worry too much," she said, waving a hand dismissively.

Happy sat down next to her, shaking his head again with a slight smile. "Maybe," he admitted, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close. "But someone's got to keep an eye on you when you get like this."

His girlfriend snuggled into him, resting her head on his chest and letting out a content sigh. "You're so comfy," she mumbled, her words slightly slurred. "Like a big ol' teddy bear."

Happy chuckled again, gently running his fingers through her hair. "That's me," he said, his tone both dry and affectionate. "Big Bad Biker Teddy Bear."

His girlfriend giggled, nuzzling her face against his chest. "Mmm, I love your chest," she said, her hand slowly snaking down to rest just above his belt buckle. "It's so... hard and muscley."

Happy raised an eyebrow, a devilish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Is that so?" he said, his voice dropping a note lower. He gently took her hand in his, preventing her from moving it any lower. "You're very handsy when you're drunk."

His girlfriend pouted again, trying to pull her hand free, but Happy held it fast. "I'm always handsy with you," she whined, looking up at him with puppy-dog eyes. "Don't you like it when I touch you?"

Happy's grip on her hand tightened just a bit, enjoying the game. "I never said I didn't like it," he said, his voice a low rumble. "But you seem a bit too wasted to be playing those kinds of games right now."

His girlfriend huffed, looking for all the world like a petulant child being denied a treat. "I'm not that drunk," she protested, wriggling a bit in his lap.

"look I'll prove it" she said holding a hand up going to touch her nose with her pointer finger but misses completely.

Happy couldn't help but laugh at her failed attempt. "Yeah, you're definitely wasted," he said, amused. "If you can't even touch your own nose without missing, I think it's safe to say you're done for the night."

His girlfriend stuck her tongue out at him, a childish gesture made even cuter by her inebriated state. "You're no fun," she muttered, resting her head back against his chest. "You never let me have any fun."

Happy chuckled again, resuming his stroking of her hair. "Trust me, princess," he said, his voice dropping back to a deeper, huskier tone, "We can have plenty of fun when you're sober. And you'll remember it the next morning."

His girlfriend nuzzled against his chest again, her eyelids drooping as the alcohol began to pull her towards sleep. "Promise?" she mumbled, her hand once again trying to snake back towards his lap.

Happy gently moved her hand away again, though he couldn't help but smile at her persistence. "I promise," he said, his voice soft. "You get some rest, and we'll pick this up in the morning when you're not seeing double."

Jax

Jax glanced over at his girlfriend, who was slumped against his side, her eyes half-lidded and a goofy smile on her lips. She'd had a few too many drinks and was now completely wrecked. He couldn't help but chuckle seeing her like this.

"All right, come here," he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer to him. He could feel her body sway slightly, her head lolling against his shoulder.

"Yurrrr so strong," she slurred, giggling.Jax rolled his eyes, his lips curling into a small grin.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm a big, strong man," he teased, gently patting her on the head. "Let's get you to bed, yeah? You're completely hammered."

He carefully helped her to her feet, keeping a tight grip on her as she wobbled. "Come on, babe. You're not walking anywhere like this." He guided her towards his dorm, one arm wrapped around her waist to keep her steady.

Once they were in the room, he sat her down on the edge of the bed with a soft thump, then knelt down in front of her to take off her shoes. "You're a real light-weight, you know that?" he teased as he slid them off her feet, setting them aside.

"Am NOT," she tried to protest, but the words didn't quite come out right. She wobbled again, nearly toppling forward before Jax caught her.

"Whoa, whoa, easy there. Don't go falling over now." He gently pushed her down onto the bed, helping her get comfortable amongst the pillows and blankets. He sat down on the bed next to her, watching her with a mixture of fondness and amusement.

She let out a contented sigh as she settled, her eyes fluttering closed. She mumbled something incoherent, and Jax couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head in amusement. He leaned down, brushing the hair away from her face before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Get some sleep, babe."

He sat there for a moment, listening to the sound of her soft, even breaths as she started to drift off. He knew she'd be out for the night, and he'd have to look after her in the morning when she woke up with a killer hangover. But for now, she was safe and sound in his bed, and that was all that mattered.

Opie

Opie returns home late one night after a long day to find his girlfriend already on the couch in the house, a bottle of beer in her hand and a flush to her cheeks. He can already assume she is drunk and he has to bite back a smirk, knowing the kind of trouble you get into when she is inebriated.

As soon as she hears him enter, she jumps to her feet, almost toppling over, but just about saving herself by grabbing the back of the couch. “O-Opie,” she stutters, a goofy smile on her face. “You're home.”

“Yeah, I’m home,” he replies, unable to hide the amusement in his voice as he takes in the state of you. “And you’re a little drunk, aren’t you?”

"No....I have only had to beers" she whined frowning at the 2 bottles on the table.

Opie chuckles when he spots the bottles realizing she found the super stong home brew he got as a gift from Bobby. “Those ain't beer, baby,” he says, shaking his head and folding his arms across his chest. “That's Bobby's 'special brew'. It would get most people drunk within minutes. How are you feeling?”

"I'm totally fine," she mumbles, her words slurred as she tries to lean against the couch but misses and almost falls to the ground if it wasn't for Opie's lightening reflexes. He quickly catches her before she hits the floor and pulls her body up against his chest.

"Yeah, you're definitely not fine," he murmurs, holding her close to him. He can't help but feel amused by how adorable she is when she's drunk. "You're gonna have a hell of a headache in the morning, baby."

She groans and buries her face in his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I feel funny,” she mumbled. “And spinny.”

Opie laughs softly and holds her closer against him, his arms wrapped tightly around her as he tries to steady her. “That’s because you’re drunk, sweetheart,” he says gently, running his hand up and down her back. “Just lean against me, okay?”

She nods and sighs contently as she leans against him more, burying her face in his chest once again. “You smell good, Opie,” she mumbles, her words still slurred and her breath warm against his chest.

He chuckles softly at her drunken compliment and tightens his arms around her, holding her even closer against him. “And you smell like a distillery,” he teases, his voice filled with affection.

She groans again and pouts up at him, her lips in a cute little frown. “You’re mean,” she sulks, her bottom lip sticking out in a pout. “You’re not supposed to be mean to me when I’m drunk, you’re supposed to be nice and tell me I’m pretty and buy me chicken nuggets.”

Opie grins, amused by her drunken requests. "You want chicken nuggets?" he teases, lifting an eyebrow. "At this hour?"

She nods enthusiastically, practically bouncing on the spot in her excitement. "Yes! I'm starving," she whines, her eyes wide and pleading. "Please, Opie, I want chicken nuggets. Please please please."

He laughs, unable to resist her adorable drunken plea. "Alright, alright," he says, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "I'll get your chicken nuggets, baby. But you have to promise me one thing."

She nods eagerly, her focus solely on the promise of food. "Anything," she slurs, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

He grins down at her, amused by her eagerness. "You gotta promise not to throw up on me, okay?" he teases, gently poking her on the nose with his index finger.

Juice

Juice leans against the doorframe, watching his girlfriend stumble around, completely intoxicated. She's laughing and swaying attempting to dance, clearly not in full control of her actions.

"How much did you drink, baby?" he asks, stepping closer.

"Dunno," she slurs, grinning sloppily at him. "A lot."

Juice chuckles, shaking his head.He moves in and scoops her up, pulling her into his arms with ease. She's lightweight to him, and he easily supports her against his chest.

"Let's get you to bed, you're wasted." he says, carrying her towards the bedroom.She giggles uncontrollably, burying her face in the crook of his neck as he carries her. She's making these little hiccup sounds that would be cute if not for the fact that they're coming from a drunk woman.

Juice sets her down on the bed, carefully arranging her head on a pillow. She's still giggling and murmuring incoherent words, clearly oblivious to the world around her.

"You're a mess," he says, rolling his eyes but there's a hint of fondness in his voice. He pulls off her shoes and lays a blanket over her.

She's attempting to say something but it's coming out as garbled nonsense. He leans closer to try and make out her words but they're not making any sense.

"Shhh," he soothes, smoothing a hand over her hair. "Just sleep it off."

He settles down on the edge of the bed, watching her as she fidgets and mutters to herself, her eyes fluttering shut and then opening again. She keeps reaching out for him, her hand flailing in the air as if trying to grab hold of something.

He can't help but chuckle at her antics, despite the situation. He reaches out and takes her hand in his, giving it a squeeze to reassure her.

She mumbles something that sounds like his name, her fingers wrapping around his.

"Yeah, it's me," he replies, his voice soft. He continues sitting there, holding her hand and stroking her hair until her breathing becomes steady, signalling she's fallen asleep.

He sits there for a few more minutes, quietly watching her. She looks so peaceful now that she's asleep, a complete contrast to the stumbling mess she was just a while ago.

Slowly, carefully so as not to wake her, he gets up and turns off the bedroom light, leaving the door slightly ajar so he can hear her if she needs him.

He goes to the kitchen filling a bottle with water and ice taking it back into the bedroom leaving it by her side going into the bathroom to find some painkillers.

He comes back into the room, carrying a couple of painkillers. He sets them down on the bedside table, making sure they're within reach for when she wakes up.

He looks down at her sleeping form, contemplating waking her up to give her the medicine, but decides against it. She's in deep sleep, and he doesn't want to disturb her. Instead, he pulls up a chair and sits down to keep an eye on her, just in case she wakes up and needs anything.

Herman

Kozik and his girlfriend had spent the evening at a party hosted by the club. As the night went on, his girlfriend had indulged in a few too many drinks, while he had remained relatively sober.

As the party began to wind down, Kozik noticed that his girlfriend had become quite drunk. She was stumbling around, struggling to speak clearly, and seemed on the verge of passing out.

Seeing her in this state, Kozik knew he couldn't leave her on her own. He made his way over to her, gently placing his arm around her to help her stand steady.

"Hey, sweetie," he said, his voice soft and caring. "I think it's time to get you home."

His girlfriend protested, insisting that she was fine and wanted to stay at the party longer. But Kozik gently but firmly shook his head.

"No, babe," he said, guiding her towards the door. "You've had a little too much to drink. We need to get you home and into bed."

His girlfriend groaned, but she was too drunk to put up much of a fight. Kozik led her out of the party and helped her into the passenger seat of her car.

As he buckled her seatbelt, he could see that she was struggling to keep her eyes open.

"Just hang in there," he said, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "We're almost home."

The drive was quiet, with his girlfriend dozing off in the passenger seat. Kozik kept his eyes focused on the road, his hand occasionally reaching over to pat her leg reassuringly.

When they finally arrived at her house, he helped her out of the car and guided her up the driveway. She stumbled on the way to the front door, but he was there to catch her, holding her steady against him.

Inside, Kozik helped his girlfriend into bed, pulling the blankets up around her and making sure she was comfortable. She mumbled something about wanting to stay awake and chat, but her eyes were already shutting.

Kozik chuckled softly, sitting down beside her on the bed. He brushed the hair back from her face and tucked the covers in around her.

"It's time to sleep," he said gently. "You'll feel better in the morning. I'll be right here."

His girlfriend nodded sleepily, her eyes closed now. Kozik stayed by her side, watching her breathing even out as she fell asleep. He leaned back against the headboard, content to keep watch over her until morning.

As the night went on, Kozik found his mind drifting. He thought about the party they had just left, his brothers back at the club, and the life they lived. But throughout it all, his thoughts kept returning to the woman asleep beside him.

He knew he was lucky to have her. She was feisty, spirited and beautiful. And she was all his.

Tig

Tig was watching his girlfriend's every movement from a safe distance. Not because he was worried, but because watching his girlfriend when slightly hammered was always fun. She always let her inner self shine when she's had a few drinks. She's not as shy and reserved when she's like that.

Right now she was giggling up a storm with some of the guys from the club. Her cheeks were a rosy shade and her eyes were bright. A little smile played on his lips as he took another long sip from his beer.

He chuckled to himself, watching as his girlfriend stumbled on her own two feet. She reached out and grabbed onto the nearest person to steady herself, who just so happened to not be him. His smile disappeared into a slight frown, and he took a few steps closer.

He quickly intervened and wrapped an arm around her, steadying her. He kept a tight grip, not too tight but tight enough to keep her from toppling over. "You okay there, sweetheart?" Tig asked, his voice holding a touch of amusement.

She looked up at him, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed with alcohol. A huge smile graced her face and she let out a small giggle. "TIGGY!! I'm good, just got a little dizzy." She replied, leaning a little closer to him, clearly tipsy.

Tig chuckled and instinctively tightened his arm around her. "Yeah, I can tell. You should slow down on the drinks, doll." He teased, looking down at her with a mixture of affection and mild concern.

"I'm fine, really. I can handle my boooze." She stated, trying to sound firm, but the slur in her voice gave her away. She stumbled again and Tig quickly caught her again, pulling her closer against him to keep her steady.

Tig rolled his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. "Yeah, you're doing a real good job handling your booze right now.." he replied sarcastically. He let out a chuckle, his hand gently rubbing her back, soothingly.

She pouted and smacked his chest playfully. "Shut up, I'm not even that drunk." She retorted, her voice still a little slurred. "I had like, three beers and a shot then another one...Oh then Bobby made a toast so i had another few. I can handle that."

Tig raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider. "Oh thats all, huh?" He teased, his tone laced with amusement. "Yeah, sweetheart, that sounds mighty reasonable for a lightweight like you."

She huffed in mock annoyance, but couldn't help the grin that tugged at the corners of her lips. "I am not a lightweight." She argued, but her unsteadiness and rosy cheeks said otherwise.Tig couldn't help but chuckle at her denial. He continued to hold her close, enjoying the feeling of her warmth pressed against him. "Right, sure you're not. That's why you can barely stand up straight on your own."

"I can stand just fine, thank you very much!" She retorted, her drunken confidence taking over. She tried to step away from him to spin in a circle and prove her point, but she stumbles again, wobbling on her feet.

Tig quickly wrapped an arm around her again and pulled her back towards him. He chuckled, now finding her attempts to prove her point even more amusing. "Yeah, you're a regular ballerina on those feet, darlin'."

She went quiet too quiet. And has a weird look on her face

"Ah shit" Tig groans and quickly scooped her up with practiced ease, knowing what was about to happen. "Looks like it's a one-way ticket to the porcelain throne for you, sweetheart." He joked as he started to rush her towards the nearest bathroom.

Once they reached the bathroom, he gently set her down in front of the toilet just in time before she started to retch into it. He knelt down beside her, holding back her hair as she emptied her stomach. Tig winced in sympathy as he heard her getting sick.

"There you go, get it all out, doll." He comforted, rubbing her back soothingly. He was thankful that the bathroom was mostly empty, and he knew the guys would keep other people out.

Once she was done, she slumped against him, weak and shaky. Tig pulled her onto his lap, holding her close and letting her rest her head against his chest. He gently stroked her hair, trying to soothe her. "You're gonna be feeling like hell tomorrow, baby." He said with a playful hint of amusement. He knew she was in for a rough morning, but he was also secretly enjoying having her so dependent on him for awhile.

[jadewritesficshere]

Slow and Steady

Steve Harrington x female!reader

Summary: You're ready for your first time with your boyfriend but are nervous based on past experiences. Steve is determined to make you feel good (3-5k words my computer broke around 1500 so I finished this on Tumblr dont know exact word count)

Contains: pure smut, reader has vaginismus (not explicitly named in the fic), talks of anxiety/nerves/doubt, fingering, cumplay, p in v, no condoms please wrap it up, creampie, pet names (Steve calls you Baby)

please note I am not a doctor. This is based on how sex is for me, not every two experiences are the same

18+ only

You sigh in pleasure. Steve is kissing your jaw, sucking lightly at your pulse that's beating wildly for him. You can feel a rush of tingling warmth spread from your spine to your lower stomach. Your hands roaming up and down his shoulders, trying to memorize the contours of his muscles. The way his hand squeezes your hip as if you would drift away if he let go.

Steve sighs, pressing his forehead into your cheek before giving you a final kiss and starting to pull back. You whine, gripping his biceps. "Steve don't! Plea- keep going!" You aren't sure you're fully making sense as your thoughts are only Steve Steve Steve. "Baby, I don't want to get carried away without talking first," Steve cups the side of your face with his hand, thumb lightly moving back and forth over your cheekbone.

"I want to make sure you're ready," Steve says looking deep into your eyes. You look away, feeling ashamed. You shouldn't be, you know this. But that doesn't stop that feeling from welling up.

You remember the first time you had sex, how much it hurt. But people told you that was normal, that it's better the next time because you weren't a virgin anymore. But that time hurt like hell too. And the next. And the next. Like you were being ripped apart, like there was something wrong.

And then your doctor told you the name of it and how some women had it. Said there were ways to work around it and work through it, but it was like cotton in your ears. All you heard was there was something wrong with you. You know there isn't, but your deceitful mind tells you there is. And now you tense up as things start to progress, making things worse unintentionally. All you could think was, 'well no one would want to work through it since no one else has before.'

But then Steve came in and tore all your defenses down. Weasled his way in with stupid pickup lines and free car rides. Rolled his eyes and gave you a 'are you seeing this?' look as he bickered with the kids before sighing dramatically and giving them what they wanted. Would wear a stupid apron when he cooked and would sneak food off his plate onto yours to make sure you had enough. You didn't stand a chance.

When Steve made out with you for the first time you wanted to cry. Thought "well this is it. He's going to leave like the rest after this." But when you stopped him, he didn't pout. He didn't roll his eyes or gripe at you, claim you led him on. Didn't try to force the issue. Steve took your no as a no and asked no questions, just pulled back smiled at you with a bulge in his pants and asked if you wanted to choose the movie now.

You broke down in tears as he tried to comfort you. And you told him everything. About how it hurt and had never been enjoyable for you. How you were scared it would hurt again. How you really liked Steve and wanted to do it with him but didn't want to disappoint him like the others. How you didn't want him to leave like the others.

And Steve let you cry into his shirt. And Steve calmed you and told you, "I'm sorry they never took care of you the way you deserve to be taken care of. If you never want to have sex, we don't have to. I love you regardless of sex, I mean yeah it would be fun and I'd like to, but like- if you aren't having a good time I don't want to do it. If you do want to try, Baby, we can take it really slow. Slow and steady. But I don't want you to feel pressured to have sex, we don't need it. If you want it we can and if you never want it we don't have to."

It was like a balm to your soul. Aloe vera on a burn you didn't realize still stung. Just knowing Steve cared enough to not call it quits made you feel desired. But that little lying voice in your head said he'd get upset and move on.

But months passed and Steve stayed. Lovely, caring Steve. Steve who held your hand and proclaimed it was a perfect fit. Steve who kissed you so sweetly, following your lead. Steve who never protested or became frustrated when you stopped things from furthering on. Steve who would help you slip your shirt back on and hold you close after making out. Steve who never once complained about "leading him on" like others have.

Steve who was the first to say," I love you," and never pushed you to say it back. Steve who bought your favorite books and tried to read them so he could have another bond with you. Steve who always knew what to say to brighten your day. The Steve who showed he loved you in every little way he cared for you.

A hand on your face snaps you back to the moment. Steve frowns slightly," You okay? You went somewhere for a minute." You shrug," Got lost in my thoughts." Steve's eyes bore into your own, as if trying to see into your mind. "If you want to stop here, we can-" "No!" You interrupt, running a hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck.

Steve pauses, waiting on you. "I want to continue. I'm just...nervous? They say relax, but then how do they expect me to relax when I know how its been in the past? And then I get tense because I'm nervous and then I'm nervous because I'm tense and then-" Steve cuts you off with a kiss. Your eyes flutter shut as he gently kisses you. It's so tender and sweet, you can practically feel the cavities forming from how sweet it is.

Steve pulls back enough to say," If anything is uncomfortable or hurts you tell me okay? If you want to stop then you say it." You nod but Steve clicks his tongue," I need your words Baby." "Yeah, okay."

Steve kisses your forehead, murmuring an "I love you". He leans back enough to help you pull your dress off and over your head. "Fuck me," he whispers, mouth falling open. Any thoughts of cowering or hiding yourself melt away as his eyes further light up with lust. "Planning to," You grin.

Steve snorts as he laughs, shaking his head slightly before ripping his shirt off. You bite your lip as you look at Steve unabashedly. Usually you try to sneak peeks, like when he lifts his shirt to wipe sweat off his forehead after a run. But now you can just look. You tentatively run a hand through his chest hair, causing him to shiver.

"Now here's what we're gonna do," Steve lightly palms himself over his jeans, groaning before speaking with a raspier tone," I'm going to take such good care of you. You're gonna take your underwear off and-"

You push your underwear down, kicking them off. Steve's jaw goes slack as he stares at your glistening cunt. "That all for me?" Steve asks. "All for you. I want you," You reach a hand out and press against his bulge, causing him to let out a whine before he grips your wrist. "Get comfortable Baby."

You lay back against the bed, relaxing into the pillows. "Now, you're gonna finger yourself." Steve instructs. You scoff," Didn't you just say you were gonna take care of me?" Steve smirks as he grabs your hand," Oh I will, but look," He holds his palm against yours," My fingers are so much bigger then yours."

It's shocking how big his hands are compared to yours. His fingers are longer and thicker then yours. You can feel yourself get wetter at the thought, but also a hint of nerves come back.

As if Steve has a glimpse into your mind, he slowly runs a hand up your shoulder to cup your face," There's no rush. I can do this all night. Slow and steady, remember?" Steve leans in and kisses you softly. You sigh into the kiss, slowly melding your mouth against his. The tip of his tongue traces your lip, leaving you begging for more.

Steve pulls back enough to whisper," Touch yourself," before trailing kisses to your jaw and neck. You can't suppress the shiver that runs through you as he hits that one spot. Steve lightly sucks on your neck as you slowly trail a hand down.

Your trembling (from nerves, excitement, or pleasure you can't tell) fingers slowly part your lips. You can feel how wet you are, starting to drip onto your thighs and under you. You slowly circle your clit, relaxing at the feeling of pleasure taking over. You moan softly as Steve continues to pepper your neck with kisses.

You lower your hand further, fingers tracing your entrance. You coat your fingers with your slick before slowly pushing your middle finger in. It doesn't hurt at the moment, but feels uncomfortable. Your brow furrows slightly, concern starting to come back. Steve is there though, kissing your forehead until you relax and using one of his large fingers to deftly circle your clit.

You pump your finger in and out, discomfort dissipating each time until you're reveling in the feeling. "There ya go," Steve murmurs reverently as your mouth falls open at how good it feels. Steve wraps his hand around your wrist, causing you to whine as he pulls your hand away.

Steve maneuvers your hand so only two fingers remain up before guiding them back to your pussy. "There you go Baby. Doing so well," Steve praises as you slowly insert the two fingers. It takes a second to adjust, to get used to the feeling.

But Steve distracts you by kissing down your chest. He reaches behind you and unsnaps your bra with one hand, the other grabbing your wrist and guiding you into a faster pace.

You let the bra straps fall down your arms, laying loosely. Steve peels your bra down and groans as your breasts sway slightly. "So fucking gorgeous," Steve groans," Doing so good." You don't even have a chance to warn him as you tumble over the edge of pleasure. You moan and gasp as you writhe against your hand. His tongue feels electrifying as he circles it around your nipple, finger circling your clit again.

You can barely hear Steve saying," That's my girl. Doing so well Baby." Your mouth is hanging open as you take in deep breaths. Warmth, euphoria, and ecstasy flow through your body freely. You come back to your body slowly, aware of Steve holding you hand, his thumb moving back and forth caressing your hand.

"My turn to touch you Baby," Steve growls out. You blink up at him a few times, still coming back down to earth. You nod as you remove your fingers. They glisten in the light from your wetness. Steve inhales sharply before darting forward, licking your fingers. You aren't sure if it was you or him who gasps, but Steve's mouth is suddenly surrounding your fingers.

Steve sucks and licks the wetness off your fingers. His eyes flutter shut as he moans. You can feel yourself getting more turned on as you watch Steve. Steve blearily opens his eyes, still sucking on your fingers. His eyes heavy with lust.

You gasp as Steve trails a finger through your folds, coating them in your release. Steve pulls off your fingers with a sudden pop, lips glistening from spit and cum. "You taste so fucking good Baby. Can't wait until I can bury my face in your pussy," Steve slowly inserts a finger as he speaks," But we'll save that for next time okay?"

His finger is definitely bigger then yours. It is slightly uncomfortable, but not painful. Steve redirects your attention by circling your nipple with his tongue again. With his free hand, he caresses and pulls the nipple he is currently not kissing and sucking on.

Steve adds a second finger once he's felt you fully relax against him. Once he's seen the unconscious tension in your shoulders go away. When he sees the clench of your jaw and your furrowed brow relax. Steve knows you have no clue you are doing this, but he is attentive and sees the signs.

When Steve adds a third finger is when you sharply inhale. Steve immediately pauses," Too much? What do you need?" "Just give me a minute," You try to steady your breathing. It doesn't hurt but it doesn't not hurt. It's a pressure and a pinch and pain but not the worst pain you've ever felt.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, looking away. "For what?" Steve frowns and grasps your chin, forcing you to look at him," Baby, it's okay! I can spend all day here with you- i want to spend all day with you. It doesn't bother me that this takes time. I love you. You're worth it. You're like everything to me. You should enjoy this too, not just me."

You can feel the tears start to form but you blink them away. You lean forward and kiss Steve again. He hums slightly against you before deepening the kiss. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, pulling moans and gasps from you. You barely notice Steve moving his hand again, pumping his fingers in and out of you.

When Steve pulls back, his lips are swollen and his face flushed," Do you think you are ready or do you want me to add another finger?" You pause for a moment to think before whispering," I'm ready, just...go slow?" Steve smiles and kisses your forehead," I can do that. That's my middle name." You giggle as Steve blinks at you," That was dumb forget i said that."

He removes his fingers and you can feel yourself clench at the loss. But your heart beat picks up in anticipation as Steve finally sheds his boxers.

Steve can't help but smirk as your jaw drops. Steve is big. Bigger then you expected him to be. There's a prominent vein you want to lick, follow all the way up to the flushed tip. There is pre-cum leaking from the top. You can see at least one freckle near the base, and another on one of his balls.

Steve crawls over you, hovering above. "You ready?" He asks, eyes staring into yours. You nod. "Want to hear your pretty voice Baby," Steve threads his hand in yours. "Ready as I'll ever be," You grin shakily.

Steve positions himself at your entrance. "Hold onto me, okay?" Steve inhales and slowly exhales. You run your hands up his shoulders to the column of his neck before threading a hand through his hair.

You squeeze his hand tight as the tip of his penis enters you. "I got you, I'm sorry," Steve murmurs as he squeezes his eyes closed. "Don't be," you gasp. It isn't painful like it has been in the past. It's a stretch, slightly uncomfortable, but not painful.

Steve murmurs praises once he's seated fully in you. You exhale slowly as you get used to the feeling. Any further nerves and tension slowly goes away. You feel so good. Full. You lean forward barely touching Steve's lips with yours. Steve chases you, enveloping your mouth with his.

"Please move Steve," you whisper in between kisses. He nods. Steve slowly moves out, it makes you want to weep at the loss, but he's suddenly filling you again.

You gasp in pleasure. It's never been like this. Felt so good. "Fuck," you gasp out, nails scratching against Steve's shoulder. He grabs your leg and positions it around his hip, driving deeper into you," Yeah, we are."

You would chuckle, but you can barely think straight. Warmth spreads throughout your limbs. Pleasure. Ecstasy. You moan wantonly as you writhe against Steve as your orgasm overtakes you. Steve squeezes your hand in his, grounding you into this moment, as he presses his forehead to yours.

Every breath you exhale, Steve inhales, and vice versa. His weight pressed against you, holding you close. His hips stutter against yours, you feel his warm wet seed paint the inside of your walls. You are wholly consumed by Steve.

You slowly come back to your senses, to Steve kissing your neck. You hum slightly, pulling back to look at him. "That was...amazing," you smile at him. Steve grins back before kissing you once more," Let me get something to clean you up, I'll be right back."

You feel empty as Steve pulls out, a slight sting at the loss that dissipates quickly. Your combined release spills out of you as Steve stands up. Steve's jaw drops slightly at the sight, stomach muscles twitching as his cock kicks back up in interest.

Steve shakes his head and returns to the task at hand. He heads into the attached bathroom, grabbing a washcloth and running it through warm water. When he returns, he carefully cleans you. You shift uncomfortably from the unexpected texture against your sensitive skin.

As soon as Steve is done, he tosses the washcloth towards the hamper. He scowls as he misses, causing you to laugh. He crawls into bed next to you," Foul play, I was distracted." "Oh?" "Mmhmm" Steve covers you with a blanket and pulls you into his side.

You curl into Steve, hand resting against his chest. You can hear his steady heart beat. You absent-mindedly trace letters on his skin. "I love you," you murmur. You pause, waiting for a response.

Your brow furrows and you lift your head to look at Steve, who remains silent. You snort out a laugh. Steve's eyes are closed and his jaw slack as he breathes through his mouth. Dead asleep as you confess your love for him. You grin as you kiss his pec, laying your head back down.

You'll tell him again when he wakes. And again that evening. And again. And again. And-