#but when it's my own book i'll dog-ear it

[shotmrmiller]

since Simon isn't one to celebrate much, whether it's a holiday or his own birth, it comes as a complete surprise that one day, he's lugging in a stuffed teddy bear the same height as him through the front door.

did you forget your anniversary? no, that was last month. you dog-ear the page of your book, paper folding neatly beneath your fingers before setting it down on the foot table. oh no. what did he do?

"nothin'," he scoffs, "can't bring my girl nothin' nice every once in a while?"

no, actually, he can't. this looks like a 6-foot apology. you ought to keep an eye on the news tonight, in case that young man from the cafe down the street coincidentally ends up missing after asking for your number in the presence of simon last weekend.

"well it isn't. i can take it back if ya like." the rich, chocolate brown fur feels incredibly soft as you thread your fingers through it.

"no, no. thank you for the oversized bear, i'll be sure to throw out the mattress so we can make it fit in the bedroom." you're no big fan of plushies, but you're no ingrate and if he thought of you when he saw this beast well, then you'll just have to accept it.

it sits in a corner of the room after that, beady eyes pointed your way even when you're on all fours with your sweat-slick face pushed into the bedsheets as Simon pistons into you from behind, or when he stuffs his fingers into your sleepy cunt before he goes to work in the morning.

(maybe it's his exhibitionist kink raging full force. who knows.)

until he decides to bring it into play when your mind is fuzzy from the glasses of wine you had for dinner that night. Simon, with your express permission, ties you up with a sturdy, coarse rope, the kind that feels like you've got tiny little claws digging into your calves and wrists when you try to move. he ties face down, legs and arms to the bear's, cheek flat on its chest, the bow on its neck sitting prettily at the crown of your head.

a doll, he says, roughened palms smoothing over the expanse of your bare skin, raising gooseflesh when he glides a hand along your folds, tip of his finger catching on your clit. lookin' pretty as a peach.

he takes you as if he's trying to fuck you right through the bear, the bed, the fucking floor and you're left to muffle your own cries on the stuffed animal itself, occasionally coming up for air when Simon claims a fistful of hair, breath warming the side of your throat.

you come the first time when he pushes a thumb against the furl of your arse, tight ring of muscle burning with the threat of him sinking into it.

(you stopped counting after the third climax, quietly cursing yourself for bagging a military man who's been so deprived of pussy he keeps fucking you even after his own orgasm.)

when you move it to clean up one day and leave it facing whichever way, by night it's facing the bed again.

definitely an exhibitionist kink.

you'll just ask him nicely to face him another way, the eerie red glow you sometimes catch in its eyes are starting to creep you out.

[lis-likes-fics]

Caught Up

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader Word Count: 3.2k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, fingering, swearing, Spencer being way to sweet for anyone's own good... A/N: I've had a major writer's block since the beginning of November and this is literally the only thing I've been able to write so I hope you enjoy this bite-size fic. Hopefully, I'll be back in my groove soon and I'll be able to write more again. Until then, thank you and happy holidays!

Your relationship with Spencer had caught the both of you by surprise.

You met at a bar. You were solemnly eating peanuts as you traced the lip of your first glass of a vodka cranberry, sipping slowly and hardly even touched. Spencer was out with Penelope, Derek, and Emily, who'd found time for a drink after a busy work day.

You hadn't intended to go home with anyone that night. You were bored and a little lonely, trying to find a way to pass the night that wasn't you cooped up in your apartment watching movies in bed.

Spencer had seen you there, sitting alone and looking far too pretty for anyone's good. Derek had to shove him just to get him to go talk to you—he'd been staring long enough that it's a wonder you hadn't noticed.

When Spencer came up to you, you took one look at his pretty face and your night was already improving immensely. He was so unbelievably beautiful—sharp-jawed, long-haired, with eyes of caramel and a smile as bright as the sun. He talked your ear off about things you knew nothing about and nearly stuttered every time you tilted your head while he spoke. He kept apologizing for ranting, to which you kept telling him that listening to him speak was the only thing you wanted to do (he'd get all flustered and fall into another bout about prions or how humans bred dogs to bark).

He was endearing and lovely and kept telling you that you were so beautiful, and you were immediately taken with him. You stared at him like he was the one who created the stars in the sky.

So you took him home that night—which had also come as a surprise.

You honestly hadn't meant for it to happen. You invited him over for a cup or coffee (the bar would close soon, you'd talked for that long), and in the middle of one of his rants, you kissed him. It would have just been a kiss, but Spencer Reid kisses like you're air itself and he's been suffocated for years. You found your way into his lap, and the next thing you knew, he was laying you on your bed and kissing you and touching you and making you feel like the most special girl on Earth.

The first time was full of care. He was kind, he checked up on you at every turn, he used soft lips and softer hands. He held you close during every embrace and backed every touch with another kiss just to make sure you were perfectly comfortable. When you woke the next morning, he kissed you again and greeted you with coffee. (He'd profiled you based on your coffee cabinet and managed to make it to perfection.)

You would spend that day wrapped up in him, listening to him speak and telling him your life story like you were a book and he was your first reader (too eager to be known that you share every single detail you have to give just so you can be held a little longer in someone's hands). It's important to note that his speedy words and listening ears were not the only thing to embrace you that day.

He treated you well, and you treated him just as well. He made you laugh, he made you smile, he made you feel safe and happy.

Through the time you've been together, Spencer has come to learn a lot about you. You don't like eating with big spoons. You have an analog clock because you love the way it looks (you don't really use it), and the ticking drives you crazy at night but you refuse to switch to digital. You love to bake but you still haven't managed to perfect a cake from scratch (which drives you insane because you really can bake, you swear!).

But one of the things Spencer learned quickly is that you have a very high sex drive. You told him that, for a while, you thought you were a nymphomaniac. Then he described the full psychology of a nymphomaniac, and you decided that it may have been a bit of an exaggeration.

Either way, he was very happy to satiate your needs. At first, it was difficult to spend time together without falling into bed. And it's not like you didn't try! But the more he looked at you and the more he spoke and the more he told you how pretty you looked, the harder it was to keep from jumping his bones. He had a similar experience with you.

He was no sex god like he assumed Morgan to be, but the more he indulged, the harder it was not to think about getting to hold you, to kiss you, to taste you. He found immense pleasure in your pleasure. He once burned his hand at work pouring himself a cup of coffee because he got distracted thinking about something as simple as holding your hand or kissing your lips, which led to worse and worse until he found himself lucky the coffee wasn't freshly brewed.

It was hard to deny the other. You couldn't even say no when he asked you to hold his hand while you walked down a street, how were you supposed to say no when he got on his knees and looked up at you like you were the moon? How was he supposed to say no when you looked at when you ran your fingers through his curls and kissed the spot behind his ear?

Even now, it's an accident. He's looping his tie in front of the big mirror hanging from your closet door, trying to get ready for work. He catches your reflection, laying across the bed in sleep shorts and a dainty tee, a pillow clutched in your arms beneath you as you watched him. You don't say anything, you don't move, you just look at him as he gets ready. And he thinks, How am I supposed to leave when she looks like that?

“Spencer?” You murmur after a bit, watching him card his fingers through his hair.

“Yes, angel?” He says it with all the sweetness of a kiss and all the familiarity of your name.

You smile at him, holding your hand out for him. He melts like butter, stepping toward you to take your fingers in the palm of his hand. He squeezes twice. “What?” he whispers without cruelty, without urgency, a simple question to know what you're thinking.

You shrug. “Nothing,” you mumble. “Just wanted to hear your voice.”

His smile alone could make you cry. He bends down onto his knees, his elbows on the bed as he reaches for you. The pad of his fingers finds your temples, sliding gently into your hair until he's cradling your head like a basketball. He brings you forward, kisses your lips with the softest touch.

Your smile curves against his lips. You scoot forward enough to relieve some of the strain of reaching, tilting your head so your noses slide with each up and down of your heads. Your hands come to hold his wrists, gentle fingertips caressing the skin like you're testing the smoothness of marble.

When you break away, it's because a soft laugh erupts from his throat. You pull back in slight surprise, your brows furrowed in question as you chuckle lightly. “What?” you breathe.

He shakes his head, his fingers finding your cheeks. “I'm sorry,” he says. “I just don't know how I got so lucky…”

You can't handle it when he says stuff like that. Your heart is beating so hard in your chest, you think you'll have to go to the hospital. Whatever patterns it's taken up can definitely be described as irregular, and you're going to have heart disease.

“I'm the lucky one,” you try to say.

But he shakes his head again. “Trust me, it's me.”

You're the one who shakes her head next, kissing him again with your hands cradling his neck. “You're so perfect,” you mutter between kisses.

Spencer's hand covers your mouth. It's nothing cruel, just his fingers curling gently over your lips as an uncontrollable smile takes over his. “Stop,” he chuckles, though his voice is dripping with regret. “We can't.”

You move his hand down. “We're just kissing.”

He rubs the tip of his nose into your cheek, inhaling your scent before pulling away reluctantly. “We have a pattern.” He takes both your hands in his, stroking the back of your palms with his thumb. “Every time you kiss me with your hands on my neck, we have sex.”

You giggle, and it's the sweetest thing. “Not every time,” you smile.

He kisses you quickly, like a millisecond longer would lead to more than just kissing. “Eight times out of ten.” He looks at your face, sighing gently and feeling a pang in his chest knowing that he has to leave you soon. He can't be late again this week.

He paints a line down your cheek with his knuckles. “Do you want to come over tonight?” He pinches your chin gently. “Or I could come over and bring takeout?”

You caress his cheekbones with your nails, tracing the blush in his skin. “I'll bring you takeout tonight.”

He smiles. “You sure? I can get it.”

Your laughter is so comfortable, it sounds more like a giggle. “So can I. Let me spoil you.” You kiss him again.

He sighs, the sound fond in and of itself. “Okay.” Spencer stands to his feet, holding his hand out to you. “Give me a proper hug, angel.” It sounds more hopeful than it does demanding.

You stand on the edge of the bed, towering over him as you wrap your arms around his head. He holds you tight, laying his head on your chest and inhaling your scent. You stay there for a while, holding the other like it's the last time you'll ever hold each other.

You cradle his neck again, kissing him with a gentle sigh. His head tilts backward to give you the space, grabbing your waist as his thumbs trace your skin the same way your thumbs trace his cheeks. The more you try to break away, the deeper you make the kiss. His hands are so warm, and his lips are so soft. You'd be remiss if you didn't bask in him.

Spencer's lips slide off your own to kiss the corner of them, brushing against your jawline as you lift your chin to let him. He makes a sound in the back of his throat, a little whine. “I really need to go…”

You chuckle lightly, your breath thin the more he kisses your neck. “Go,” you sigh, the word quiet and half-heartedly, though not intended to be. “I'll see you tonight…”

His hands tighten on your waist, dipping beneath your shirt so he can feel your soft skin in his palms. He makes that sound again, dipping his head slightly to press open-mouthed kisses to your chest. Your lips part, shallow breaths passing through them as your eyes flutter shut at the feeling.

He pulls you closer to him, one arm around your back as the other bends your knee. Your legs wrap around his waist, and he holds you up with strong arms. “I have to go now,” he mumbles between heated kisses.

You nod, making no move to unravel from him. “I know.” A kiss. “Have a good day, honey.”

He bends down, laying you on the bed and ducking his hand beneath your shirt. His palm gropes your breast, his thumb tweaks your nipple. You gasp against his lips.

His free hand grabs at your waist. He kneads it in his palm, he presses his fingers into your skin. He brushes his knuckles over your flesh and smiles when you shudder. “Feel good?” he whispers.

You nod, carding your fingers through the hair at the back of his head. “Yeah. Really good.”

“Good,” he kisses your neck. His hand sinks lower, his finger hooking into the waistband of your shorts. “This okay?”

Your nod is quicker this time, more enthused. “Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, please.”

Spencer pulls your shorts down your legs, helping you take them off without once ever pulling away from you. He strokes your newly exposed skin, humming deep in his throat at the feeling of it. You hike your knee higher up his side, opening yourself up for him.

His hand dips between your legs, fingers curling around the inside of your thigh. He strokes a short line up and down.

A tiny curse slips past your lips. “Can you touch me, Spence? Just a little?”

He whines again, heavier breaths puffing from parted lips. “I want to,” he says. “But I have work, and–” He interrupts himself, leaning down to capture your lips.

When he pulls back, you're nodding. “Y-Yeah. Go, baby. Go work and then… then when you get back–”

He pushes a long, slender finger inside of you. Your breath hitches, your lips pressing messily together. You feel the slightest shake of his head, his nose bumping yours. A second finger joins the first, splitting you open as a moan spills past your lips. A tiny smile spreads his mouth.

You tangle your fingers in the hair at the back of his head, your hips lifting toward his hand when he thrusts his fingers gently in and out of you. “Ah, fuck, Spence.”

His mouth latches onto your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your skin, his teeth lightly grazing as his tongue darts out to taste it. Your hand tightens a bit to take a fistful of his hair. You don't yank his hair, but you can hear the tiny grunts that come out of him at the light tugs at his scalp.

His fingers curl inside you, pumping deep and slow and building up the more you gasp around him. “Does this feel good?” he asks breathlessly into the skin of your neck.

You nod, clenching around his fingers as your eyes squeeze shut. “Yes, baby. Please don't stop,” you sigh with each in and out of his fingers. The deep strokes are warm and inviting, like shining a light through your fingers to see it glow. You roll your hips to meet the movements of his hand, and reward his intoxicating thrusts with short gasps.

He presses the pad of his thumb to your clit, and you feel yourself giving in. His lips and teeth and tongue trace your collarbone, and you know he'll leave you today with a wonderful mark just below it to remind you of him (although he'll apologize and ask you if he hurt you when he sees it, then he'll kiss it better, which will lead to this all over again).

His fingers stroke deep inside you, curling and pumping and pulling your release closer and closer. He's coaxing it out of you with the kindness of beckoning a scared animal. He loves on your skin and whispers how wonderful you are and makes it more and more impossible for you to let him go all day long.

You wish you could spend forever wrapped up in bed with him. You don't even have to do anything. You would be completely and utterly content laying against him and talking, or letting him talk, or sitting in silence and simply enjoying his company.

A knot is building in your belly—one that you've become quite accustomed to feeling these past few weeks. The tighter it wounds, the deeper you breathe as you arch your chest into his mouth. He continues to embrace you, whispering, “That's it, angel. Just breathe. I've got you, I promise. I'm right here. Let go for me.” He coos your name like it's the sweetest thing in the world and smiles when you coo his back.

Your hands cradle his head as the knot snaps and sends a wave of pleasure over your body, taking you under and letting you breathe in the ecstasy. It's not explosive by any means, but it's warm and comforting and covers you in goosebumps as you card your fingers through his hair and pet him and hold him as close as you can as he continues to kiss and coo and curl.

Your breath shudders and shakes with the rest of your body, interrupted only by whimpers and the humming of his name on your lips.

Spencer pulls his fingers from the wet warmth between your thighs and kisses you with all the intimacy of your orgasm. You sigh into his lips and let yourself be taken by his consuming care.

“You're so perfect,” he whispers into your lips, kissing you in short pecks over and over and over again like he just can't get enough of you. “You know that? I used to believe that it is statistically and theoretically impossible for a human being to be perfect, but then you come along and destroy any idea of it that I've ever had.”

You both laugh, happy breaths in each other's spaces as you indulge in the other between more drunken kisses. “Guess that's why you call me angel.”

His smile rivals the sun. You don't think you can stare at him much longer, but you also don't think you could ever forgive yourself if you looked away.

“You are my angel,” he says, another kiss. Then a sigh of regret and, quite frankly, remorse pushes out from his chest. “And I have to go to work now. Hotch will be furious that I'm late again.”

You kiss him again, keeping it short. “Sorry for keeping you, doctor.”

He laughs. He's full of laughs when he's with you. “I don't regret it one bit.”

You help him tidy up once more so that he looks presentable again. You smooth out his clothes, comb your fingers through his hair, and kiss his cheek to avoid getting distracted again. You walk him to your door, arms around backs and tucked into the other.

He opens the door and turns back to you, picking up your hands in his and squeezing them gently. “I'll see you tonight?” His eyes sparkle with all the hope in the world. He's going to give you irregular heartbeats. You're going to get sick and die.

“Of course, handsome.” You lean up on your toes, hands on his chest as you peck his lips. It's short and sweet, he doesn't even have time to close his eyes. Yet when you sit back on your feet, his eyes are closed.

He smiles, lingering for a moment. He looks at you. “You didn't touch my neck.”

You chuckle lightly, patting his chest. “Well…we have a pattern.” You pull his bag back up his arm, resting it on his shoulder. “I'll see you tonight, Spence.”

He cradles your elbows, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles into your skin. “Bye, angel.” He gives you a dangerous kiss to your lips, and then he's gone.

You're left watching him walk down the hall, leaning on your door frame and smiling after him like some lovesick fool. To be fair, you are a lovesick fool. After all, your heart’s doing flips. You should schedule a doctor's appointment.

Criminal Minds taglist: @queermaxwooo @mdanon027 @lilianhallee @hpstuff244444 @thegr8estpuff @niktwazny303 @bubbles2300 @hiireadstuff @chloelmao67 @feyresqueen @hbwrelic @princess76179 @hc-geralt-23 @hits-different-cause-its-you Dr. Reid taglist: @swwanlake @imgonnaslurpu Tag yourself here...

[xqueen-of-disasterx]

Maybe one with bunny!hyrbid!reader and Natasha “adopts” her and just fucks the shit out of her with her strap (or her real cock if you prefer to write that)

Run Rabbit Run

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: fem!bunny!hybrid!reader x owner!Nat

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐲: Natasha can’t help but grant her bunny all her little wishes

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, dom!Nat, sub!reader, age gap (legal), ownership, size kink, strap on, artificial cum, slight breeding kink, pillow humping, slight somno, masturbation, crying during it,

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional. I do not own these characters!

𝐌.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

What to do with all the money you make as an Avenger? That was a question Natasha had ask herself more times than she could count. Sure currently was her monthly pay check and all the money she made from interviews and social media was rotting away in her bank account, because she was never a fan of making herself gifts nor did she have time for it. But now with Easter just around the corner the Russian decided to not only do something against her overload on money but also against her loneliness.

She wanted a hybrid, not just some brainless pet but something that could actually understand her. The concept of owing a hybrid wasn't new of course it had been around for years, back in the days they actually hunted them from nature but nowadays there was no need after they got a hang of how to domesticate such a creature.

Natasha stepped foot in one of the only places in the whole of New York who sold these rare creatures- Tony had recommended it to her after once more bragging about his large collection. The over friendly employee showed her the different enclosures all while the employee tried to keep it together- after all you didn't see an Avenger daily not even when working for a prestigious company like she did.

Natasha first visited the cat hybrids, cute but too stubborn, then the dogs, too dependent, foxes were too clever for her taste though especially the polar foxes caught her eyes. Bears and any other large animals would be too much work and needed too much space. The right pick was right on her nose she wanted to get herself a bunny.

Standing in front of the enclosure which held you and a few of your companions Natasha and the employee stood, her gaze never leaving your body. You didn't alter much from a normal human, except for the fluffy bunny ears, little tail and over all smaller build you looked like any other girl. You were going to cost her a hefty amount of hard earned money but for your rare breed, Natasha couldn't care less about that in the moment. The way you stat there so carelessly reading some book which laid in her lap, made you different in her eyes more intelligent maybe? She wanted connection and not some braindead doll after all.

"The one in the pink collar… is she still to have?" Natasha asked the employee you gave her a quick nod. "Yes, she hasn't been here for long though the ones like her normally get adopted quite quickly." Nat only hummed in approval she couldn't wait to have you in her home. "I'll have her in a private kennel"

Meeting a potential owner made you nervous of course you had been trained to and prepared on how to act in such a situation, how to appeal to any potential owner - though you secretly hoped for a female buyer. You tried your best to hide your shy nature from the older woman who awaited you but Natasha found it charming how your, compared to your body, large floppy bunny ears hang low but twitched up when she spoke to you in a gentle manner.

Natasha approached the situation with a calm demeanour- she knew about the shy nature of a bunny like you. As soon as you were comfortable enough to approach her she started to pet over your smaller head with careful hands- and you loved it. By the end of your get to know each other you sat on the redhead's lap clinging on to her. But you weren't parted for long Natasha signed all the paperwork the same day and at the start of the next week you were able to move in with her.

She had given you a nice room, with many books, TV and games to entrain yourself with while she would be working. You came with the clothes from the centre, a basic white bluse, white skirt everything in white , like any other hybrid except for your coloured coded collar which adored your neck so the employees had an easier time keeping hybrids a part. Natasha started to take great joy in precisely choosing each outfit for you. Price didn't matter to Natasha, if she found something to be cute she bought it for you and Nat was known for expensive taste. Sooner or later your closet was fuller than hers, filled to the brim with shorts, blouses, floral summer dresses anything which had a playful feel to it.

Natasha was a busy woman though, often being away for days at a time, she normally made up with expensive gifts and extensive cuddling for her little bunny girl. But that hardly was enough to satisfy your need to be close to the older woman, not to mention that you were worried sick about your owner once you had found out that she wasn't a simple business woman but an avenger.

Natasha came home at around 3 AM after a long mission in Europe the jet lag and sleep deprive was killing her, and since she thought you'd already be asleep at such a late hour- and way past your agreed on bed time, she'd just go to sleep already. As soon as she had stripped to her underwear and her face had it the pillows she was dead asleep, little did she know that you weren't.

Next door you were awake, not only that but you were desperate. This had never happened before yet you immediately knew what it was. You had your first heat, and nothing helped, no toy's from the centre, no playing with yourself, no nothing. You had a pillow under your hips probed up at the seams you humped the pillow like your life depended on it.

You mewled as your already sensitive cunt graced over the edge of the pillow. You were close to cuming but you couldn't bring yourself over the edge. That's when you heard Natasha rummaging through the house you're floppy bunny ears twitching up to detect the source of the noise. You waited patiently in your room trying to find some sleep, maybe Natasha could help you out in the morning. But you could feels your juices sticking to the inside of your thighs.

With small steps you made it into Natasha's bed room tears of frustration already building in your eyes threatening to spill over your blushing cheeks. Carefully you climbed into her bed to find her in a deep slumber laying on her back. You sat down on her on her thigh your pussy making contact with her soft skin.

Slowly you started to rhythmically move it against the limp muscles of her thigh small whimpers falling from your throat in between the sobs of frustration paired with the cries of her name and the tears rolling down your cheek it made a whole picture.

Natasha peaceful face scrunched up in confusion of the sensation when she slowly woke from her slumber she was utterly distraught. Her sweet little bunny humping her thigh like a bitch in heat. With careful hands she stopped your hips and you immediately broke out into a new round of sobs and cries.

"Sheesh" she hushed you petting over over your low hanging ears "You're just in heat bunny, it'll be over soon" She assured you when you pressed your face into her neck. "I want it over now!" You cried out "what about the advice the centre gave you?" She tried but feeling you so desperate and need had an affect on her too.

"Doesn't work" You huffed out "I want you to play with me" Nat was startled by the request, was it morally right for her to sleep with you? It was the main point of criticism surrounding owing a hybrid, but what if not the owner but the hybrid wanted it. "Please" you whined and the assassin's strong will broke right there. "Wait here bunny I'll go get something" You nodded and released Natasha from your grace watching her go.

She came back with a noticeable bulge in her sleep shorts, which upon seeing made your thighs clench together. "It's not going to hurt bunny" She assured and got behind you pulling her shorts down to reveal her, to your body size massive, strap on. She pressed the fat tip against your entrance and your hooded eyes flew open in surprise at the shear size of the toy.

"Natty, it's to big" You mewled out your cotton tail twitching "It's not gonna fit" Natasha scoffed shaking her head as if you had just made an outrageous statement. "I'm gonna make it fit bunny" She pushed forward and your bunny hears flew up in surprise of the stretch. You hands dug into the soft pillow underneath your head as you whimpered in a mic of pain and pleasure.

"Natasha!" You cried as she bottomed you out the stretch being much greater than you could've accomplished with your little fingers. "I'm gonna move now bunny" You nodded and felt her starting with a comfortable rhythm which made the pain turn into pleasure.

By your sweet moans she could tell how much you liked it and fastened her pace to finally give you what you wanted. With deep thrusts she stroked your G spot making you see stars as she too enjoyed the feeling of the strap running against her clit. You mewled out some words she couldn’t make out but took at as a sign of approval for her to keep going.

With both of her hands on your hips she forcefully slammed into your tight heat making sure to not actually hurt you. You arched your back one hand sneaking to your neglected bundle of nerves rubbing it in tight circles. “Fuck are you close?” Natasha asked there was a certain tiredness in her voice still. She clenched down harder on the silicone and mewled out “Yes, please”

“Fuck cum with me” with a few more fast thrusts you came first you’re juicing coating the lower stomach of the black widow. She had a surprise for you when you noticed a thick liquid gushing from the strap into your womb as she came. After having cum herself she pulled out to watch in an awe how the white cum was dripping from your stretched out hole.

After having cleaned you up Natasha could finally rest but not without you resigning on her chest of course. Call it what you wanted for Natasha those feelings of affection were real and of no ill intent she just did whatever you wanted to ensure happiness. With that thought and still cum dripping from your hole both you and Natasha fell asleep.

:)

[retiredteabag]

soft Toji dog-sitting for a generous!reader

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4 - pt. 5 - pt. 6

synopsis: Toji was quite accustomed to objectifying himself for a check. And to be frank, far worse actions as well. Now he’s not sure what to do with himself after meeting the kind and generous owner of the dog he pet-sits for.

read along as Toji grows more comfortable around you despite his past.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Toji had stayed the night at many women's houses. At some point down the line, he started requesting they order him an Uber or something, but in the beginning, he was hardly at his own place. And for a brief period, when he was in a real desperate situation, he stayed with the women because he didn't have a place of his own.

That's why it's so strange to Toji, to feel apprehensive at staying the night in your home.

You won't even be there, what's it matter? He thought.

But then again, that might be why he's a bit uneasy about the whole thing. You were to be gone three days for a work event. And you had entrusted him with your entire place. He had showered and napped in your house, eaten your food and brought in the mail. He was comfortable to the point it felt like a second (much nicer) home. What he had never done, was stay the night. He certainly hadn't slept in your bed...

You had seemed overwhelmed and uneasy about the situation while walking him through everything. You had been on the opposite side of the kitchen island when you had said,

"I know this is so short notice, I'm terribly sorry, I wasn't even supposed to be on this trip, I asked not to go, but the other official called out sick." Your hands made grand and elaborate gestures and your dogs head wobbled as he followed your theatrical hands. "So now, I'm stuck, I have to go." You sounded upset.

"'S not a problem. So, what day does the trash go out, again?" He held back a grin as your shoulders drooped.

"Toji, you're my hero. Thank you. And Wednesday, don't worry if you forget to take it out though."

You had informed him that the dog would probably like it best if he stayed downstairs with him while you were away. Meaning-sleeping in the master bedroom. In your bedroom. On your bed.

Oh...kay...

He shrugged it off as you muttered some, "of course, I'll clean the sheets so don't worry about that..." And explained about the difficult relationship between the dog and the mailman. But he was too caught up in the fact that you were so trusting of him.

There didn't seem to be any uncomfortable air around you, other than your work-related stress around the trip, but you didn't seem to have a problem with this big-ass man spending a few days in at your place.

Toji had lots of appeal, and he had grown to know, the majority of it was sex appeal. And the fact that you clearly had no interest in that aspect of his abilities... made him feel odd. Any time he would throw a compliment at you, you would smile politely, and say something nice about him. Except it was always,

"You're so good at you're job!"

"I'm so glad I can trust you to look after my puppy!"

"I appreciate how efficient you are!"

it made his ears feel hot.

So did the smell of your bedsheets. In fact, your pillowcases had such an effect on him, on that first night you were gone, he found himself rummaging through your things to distract himself.

He meandered through your room, pulling books and sticky notes off dressers and walking through your closet nook. He intentionally did not open any drawers but when he stumbled upon a pair of pajamas lying on a bookcase ladder, he quickly turned around and went to examine the fascinating blanket collection at the foot of your bed.

Staying at your place meant he could sleep in if he wanted to, but that morning he got out of bed earlier than usual. He wasn't going to let his mind wander while lying in the same spot you lay.

He found himself pretending he actually lived in the space. Getting dressed. Feeding the dog. Making breakfast. All in the luxurious home he did not belong in. After some time he realized all of these fantasies included you. He imagined making coffee as you sat across the island, he imagined talking with you, as a normal person, over pancakes, or whatever the hell rich people ate.

Eventually, he had to shake the thoughts from his head as they began to seem too domestic.

One thing that carried throughout the days of your leave, was the photos. You had repeatedly told him to never hesitate to contact you, "And please feel free to send pictures!" So send pictures- he did.

On walks, in the back yard, while booping the dog's nose, after giving the beast a treat. He sent most to you but kept some for himself. You acted as if he was spoiling you with these images of your own canine, the hearted messages and polite, "This really made my day!" stuck with him, when in reality, you were the one spoiling him with how much you had given him for his stay.

Once upon a time, the money he had in his wallet would have already been gone. A real likelihood being that he took the cash and left the dog to fend for itself. Only naive people paid before the service was completed. But he was a different man now. Or so he told himself as he pondered how you must think of him.

You must think highly. To pay so much upfront. You must trust him.

That evening, after walking the dog one last time, he flipped his phone around in his hand while lying down, legs hanging off your mattress. It was late, he was wondering what you were doing and what he should spend his money on when he felt the vibrations of his phone.

He saw your contact pop up and was quick to open the messaging app. What he saw, however, confused him a great deal.

"I would like for you to not involve the police with this. If possible, do keep this event and its handlings between us, I would be unhappy if my colleagues heard about this."

He sprang up in the bed, his feet planted on the floor as he read and reread your message over and over. Confusion filled him, was this message intended for him? If so, had you discovered something about Toji's past? Or had you mistakenly sent the message to him?

What was this about?

He began to write back, only to stop. He wanted to see if you would alter your text, or confirm your mistake. When you didn't and he could not take it any longer. He responded.

"What event are we discussing?"

Immediately he saw that you had read his reply, and quickly he saw an ellipses appear. It faded quickly. He waited for what seemed like forever, unsure of what to say. "I would be unhappy if my colleagues heard about this" he knew you had discussed his working for you before with your co-workers before he distinctly told you he wasn't looking for more work.

Sick of all the waiting, he decided to call you. And as soon as the phone rang, it immediately went to voice mail.

Clearly, you had been in a hurry to avoid his call. Unsure of how to proceed, he texted again.

"???"

He had a sick feeling in his stomach as he rose to pace the bedroom. Finally a message arrived.

"Terribly sorry, that message was intded for my boss. I texted your ontact by mistake."

Toji tried to digest exactly what this meant. He saw the typos in your message and quickly wondered if you had ever been so careless before. He scrolled up to scan previous conversations but decided it was unimportant.

"I see" he began, he wanted to ask what was happening but he knew he wouldn't want anyone prying into him, especially if it involved anything incriminating. He tried to relax himself. Perhaps the comment had nothing to do with him, even so, he decided to call you again to clarify what had just happened.

In a harsh contrast to before, the phone barely had a chance to ring before you picked up. Toji knew he hadn't been thinking straight. But when he saw the call start he realized then that he hadn't planned what he was going to say. It wasn't but a moment later that he discovered that all of his unanswered questions were irrelevant.

He held the phone up to his ear and heard quick breaths from the other end of the call. What he assumed was a frantic exhale, came out more like a sob as he heard pained whimpers.

"Didn't mean to...sorry about tonight. It was my mistake." You were speaking very slowly, in a calculated sort of way. Still, your voice shook.

Toji was impossibly still as he listened to your voice. "What's going on, y/n?"

That night he would lay in bed, trying to sleep, and realize that this particular moment might have been the first time he used your name intentionally. In the moment, however, he was all too occupied to care. He wanted to come off as gentle and friendly, something he was completely unaccustomed to.

The line went quiet. There was a long pause before a throaty squeak came and a warbled, "...sorry" was heard. Just before the call ended.

Toji began to pace again, he called you once more before he decided that it might be best to not pressure you. He ran a hand down his face as he tried to write a text. But he had nothing to say, he was experiencing confusion and confusion alone.

Turns out, he didn't need to start the conversation again, in your never-ending kindness, you sent, "I'm sorry for all of this, this is a small matter with work at the moment and I did not mean to startle you. I see how it might have come off as concerning. I promise this will not effect you. I'm sorry. Please forget this occurred."

Relief flooded Toji faster than he could question it. So this didn't involve him. But what exactly was happening? He gave your message a thumbs up... but something was still stuck eating at his brain.

"Were you crying just now?" He sent.

He expected a long wait before you responded but, to his surprise you reply was prompt.

"Sorry about that."

And a moment later, "I didn't mean to involve you."

That feeling in his stomach sunk further as he stared at his phone. Unsure of what to say, your dog whimpered at his feet and Toji took a deep breath.

"I wasn't asking for you to apologize" he typed, trying to put his intentions into words. "Are you okay?"

He couldn't remember the last time he had asked someone about their wellbeing. So when you responded,

"Yes. I think so." He found himself slowly walking back to your bed. Staring at the floor as he sat on your comforter. He decided he wouldn't press.

He liked your message.

He laid in your bed.

And he tried to get the sound of your shaky breaths out of his mind.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Next

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[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 17 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley loved settling in to a new routine with Rose at home. Taking care of you and the baby felt natural. If the most stressful thing he has to deal with was her godfather, then he counted it as a win.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, lactation kink, swearing, DILF Roo

Length: 3800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

"Here are your books," Bradley said softly as he carried his daughter around her nursery to her bookshelf. "And here is your crib." She blinked up at him and yawned, and he broke out into a smile. "And here's the chair from your grandparents where Mommy is going to feed you so you can take a nap."

You were standing in the doorway with both hands on Tramp's collar while he whimpered nonstop. "He's not going to rest until he gets to sniff her again," you said, fighting to hang onto him. "And lick her, and roll around on the floor next to her."

"Fine," Bradley said with a sigh. Tramp just spent twenty minutes losing his mind over the baby, but apparently that wasn't enough. Bradley sank down onto the floor with Rose in his arms, and she stretched her fists up toward his face and gave a soft cry. She looked adorable in the outfit your parents bought for her, and his heart clenched like always when he imagined how his own mom and dad would have reacted to being grandparents.

"Here he comes," you said, releasing the collar, and Tramp bounded the rest of the way into the nursery, whimpering and shaking with excitement. He licked the top of Rose's head, making her cry in the process before he started sniffing her hands.

"For fuck's sake," Bradley grunted, trying to coax Tramp to sit down while Rose curled up against his chest. "He's more excited about the baby than I am."

Carefully you sat next to him on the soft rug that looked like a cloud in the airplane nursery, kissing his cheek before you said, "Don't swear in front of the child."

He rolled his eyes. "She can't understand it yet."

You gave him a pointed look. "Don't make me take away your privileges."

Bradley opened his mouth to ask what you meant, but he was immediately silenced as you pulled your shirt over your head and got ready to feed Rose. "Shit," he muttered, wondering how the fuck he was going to last six weeks with your tits in his face and zero chance at intercourse. "I'll behave."

"While Rose eats, I think we should talk about a few things," you whispered, taking her into your arms with a smile and kissing her cheek before getting her situated.

Bradley pulled Tramp onto his lap, doing his best to keep him from loudly sniffing his human sister and making her cry again. Bradley watched you fidget with your leggings around your waist. "What's wrong? Are you uncomfortable?" he asked while you fed Rose.

"No," you muttered, not looking at him. "My body is like a deflated balloon."

"Baby Girl," he whispered, leaning in to kiss your ear softly. "You're only a few days postpartum. You birthed an entire person. And you look beautiful. You always will."

He gave up his quest to keep Tramp at bay and let the dog lick the baby's foot as you started crying. "I think my hormones are going insane again," you sobbed, and he wrapped one arm around your shoulders and helped you hold Rose with the other. "And I'm really tired."

"I know," he whispered, peppering your face with kisses. "That's why I'm sending you and the Nugget both for nap time as soon as she's done. Now let's talk about what you want to talk about."

"Right," you said with a sob, like you had forgotten all about it. "My parents aren't going to stop bugging until I tell them when they can come visit."

Now that the attic was available, Bradley didn't mind having them in the house all that much. "Since I'm taking the next week off, why don't you tell them to come out the week after that? So you can have some help when I'm on base?"

"That's a good idea," you said as you carefully maneuvered Rose to your other breast. "We also need to give Rose a godfather." Bradley closed his eyes and pictured literally anybody but Jake. "And I was thinking Jake."

He heaved a weary sigh. "Of course you were," he grouched as Tramp finally calmed down and curled up on the floor. You looked at Bradley without saying a word, and he rubbed his eyes with his fingers. Hard. Jake was a fucking pain in the ass. He always has been, and he always will be. But... he took care of you when Josh tried to assault you while Bradley was deployed. And Jake was the one he turned to when he had a panic attack about getting himself killed before he got to meet his daughter. Jake even graciously promised he would look after you and Rosie and finish building the playset if something happened to him. And he never gave Bradley a hard time for any of it.

"Fuck. How the fuck is this my life?" Bradley groaned, sprawling out on the floor with Tramp and staring at the ceiling.

"What did I say about all the swearing, Roo?" you scolded, but when Bradley focused his gaze on your face, you were smiling. "Does that mean you're okay with Jake?"

Bradley looked at Rose and then back at you. "Yeah," he rasped while wincing.

"Perfect. We can tell him when he stops over tomorrow."

"He's coming over tomorrow?"

"Yes. With Cat and Jeremiah," you said, wiping Rose's lips with a burp cloth as Bradley sat up again.

"Let me hold my Nugget to help ease my pain and suffering."

"You're so dramatic. It's not like you'll suddenly be related to Jake," you said with a laugh, literally flaunting your tits as you stood up. "I'm going to call my parents and then take a little nap as long as you've got her?"

Bradley looked at his daughter as she curled up in his arms. "Yeah. I've got her," he promised, and you kissed him before you left the nursery. 

"We're going to take a little walk," he whispered, picking up the burp cloth that you left on the chair. Bradley carried Rose through the house, marveling once again at how tiny she was in his hands as he tried to burp her. Then he slipped out the sliding glass door to the backyard as he said, "This Jake thing wasn't my idea. You heard your mother. She's got some weird ideas sometimes, but I love her too much to tell her no. So let's set some rules. Under no circumstances are you ever allowed to think your godfather is funnier than your old man, okay?"

Rose simply yawned as Bradley sat down on one of the swings, cradling her.

"Exactly. He's a snoozefest. I totally get the yawning." He pressed his lips to her cheek. "And when you're old enough to talk, I need you to tell him that your godmother is way cooler than your godfather. If you agree, then don't say a word."

Bradley moved the swing slowly as she snuggled against him and silently closed her eyes. "That's my girl," he whispered, keeping her warm against his body in the early spring sunlight.

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

When you woke up, your body was sore, and your stomach was growling. You didn't know what time it was, but your breasts hurt enough that you thought perhaps it was time to feed Rose again. You climbed out of bed and froze as you reached for your glasses. Something smelled good. Familiar. Your stomach rumbled loudly as you whispered, "Surely not."

Rose's door was closed when you walked down the hallway, and you found your husband in the kitchen, working in front of the stove.

"You're cooking Marry Me Rooster!"

He looked up at you with a bewildered expression on his face, like a deer caught in headlights. "I am," he replied, voice hoarse. "I've been training over facetime with your mom for months, but this is my first time actually trying it."

Your heart swelled with love as you took a step closer to him and your grandmother's recipe sheet, but he held up a hand and shook his head.

"I think it's best if I give this my full attention," he said, eyes wild as he turned back to the stove. "But maybe you should have the fire extinguisher handy just in case."

You backed slowly away from him, hand covering your mouth to try to keep your laughter in. Excitement bubbled inside you knowing you'd get to eat one of your favorite dinners tonight. Bradley was pretty good at cooking now. He could pull it off. Probably.

Your daughter's cries started ramping up in her nursery, and you had a visceral reaction to it. "I'm coming," you called out, already pulling your shirt over your head as you walked inside. The fact that she even looked adorable when her face was all scrunched up in tears was concerning to you; Bradley would be unstoppable with spoiling her.

As soon as you scooped her up into your arms, she quieted down. Her weight against your body was calming as you rocked her in the chair while you fed her, and you weren't surprised at all that Tramp was sitting at your feet with his eyes glued on the baby.

"Just wait until she can walk," you told him. "The two of you will be besties, terrorizing everyone else."

You heard some loud noises in the kitchen followed by Bradley's voice. "It's fine! It's all fine!"

"I'm kind of concerned," you whispered to Rose, running your fingers along her little bit of fuzzy hair. "But Daddy learned how to cook just for you and me. We are already spoiled."

To your surprise, dinner was mostly good. The kitchen was completely trashed, and Bradley looked like he just ran a marathon, but the food was edible. It even tasted good, if not a little bit on the salty side.

"I am so impressed, Roo," you said with a smile. He was holding Rose to his chest with one hand and inhaling the pasta and chicken.

"I wanted you to have something special. It's nowhere near as good as yours though," he mumbled with a shrug around some bites. "But it's okay. I'm kind of hoping Cat will bring food with them when they stop by tomorrow. She knows how to cook like you do. Jake and I would have probably starved to death by now."

He set his fork down to run his knuckle along Rose's cheek as you started to clean up the dishes. "I thought it was wonderful," you whispered. "Nobody else ever cooked just for me before."

That made him smile. 

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

Bradley intended to write in the Nugget notebook while the events from the hospital were still fresh in his mind, but he passed out in bed as soon as you did. Rose cried three times overnight when she was hungry, and he realized he was actually quite useless when it came to that scenario. All he could really do to help was burp her. By the time he was making breakfast, you looked absolutely exhausted.

"That was kind of a rough night," he said while trying so hard not to burn the toast.

"I think that's just how nights are going to be for a while," you replied with a yawn as you carried the baby around.

Bradley spread some of the avocado concoction he whipped up onto the perfectly toasted slice of overpriced bread that you liked, and he took Rose from you so you could have a break.

"Thanks," you muttered before biting into your breakfast. "It's still so strange that you're the one cooking now."

"Oh shit," he said in delight as he kissed his daughter. "I almost forgot."

"Stop swearing!" you called as he walked outside to the garage where that fancy baby carrier thing was. 

He'd been using it to lift weights, training for this very occasion. He snatched it up and took it back in the house where he set Rose down on the couch to fasten the straps around himself. "Look at this!" he said, slipping the baby in against his chest. You were shaking your head and finishing your toast as he paraded around wearing Rose.

"You're so adorable, Roo."

"It's not me. It's the baby." He looked down at her cute face where her cheek was squished against his chest. "Can't get enough."

You wrapped your arms carefully around him, turning Rose into a sandwich as you ran your fingers through the hair along his temples. "You are such a DILF, Bradley. Gray hairs and heart eyes for your daughter."

"Stop," he groaned, turning to kiss your wrist. "Do you have any idea how hard it's going to be for me to not fuck you right now?" Someone knocked on the front door and he gave you a look. "What time did you tell Jake and Cat to stop by?"

"Tonight," you replied, heading across the living room. "It couldn't be them."

Bradley was relieved to see Maverick when you opened the door. "I'm not staying," he said as you invited him inside with bags in his hands. "I just wanted to see this little one for myself and drop some things off." He shook Bradley's hand and then just stood there with his hands on his hips, watching Rose slowly fall asleep in her carrier. "My god," he whispered, eyes shining with tears. "A brand new Bradshaw."

"Do you want to hold her?" you asked him, already reaching for the carrier. But Maverick shook his head.

"No, let her sleep. I'll come back one day with Penny and Amelia. We'll bring pizza. Just let us know which night is good." He looked up at Bradley, cuffing him on the shoulder as he said, "I wanted to be one of the first to say congratulations. Your mom and dad would have been overjoyed."

"Thanks, Mav," Bradley whispered, tears in his own eyes now. "I'm kind of obsessed with her, so I know my mom would have been as well."

Maverick shook his head, still giving Bradley's bicep a squeeze. "Your dad would have never shut up about having a granddaughter. That's a fact."

Bradley pulled his godfather in for a hug before he left with the promise to return later in the week when he was invited. Then he kissed the top of Rose's head as you rummaged around in the bags that had been left behind.

"Penny seems to have gone a bit overboard with groceries," you muttered, pulling lunch meat, bread and some chicken breasts from one of the bags. "Oh! A bottle of pink champagne!"

"Put it in the fridge," Bradley said. "I'm going to need a drink after you tell Jake he'll be the Nugget's godfather."

You rolled your eyes and dug around in a gift bag that was overflowing with tissue paper, and you gasped as you pulled out two stuffed animals. They simply looked like birds, but when Bradley took a step closer, he laughed. 

"Mav really bought Rosie a plush goose and a plush rooster."

You had a bright smile on your beautiful face as you examined them. "He's quite the joker, but these are so cute. I'm going to put them in her nursery."

"After that, you should go take a nap," Bradley said, swaying slowly from side to side with his hand resting on the back of his daughter's head while she napped. "This little girl is sound asleep, and I can do a few chores with her in the carrier."

You gave him a look that would usually mean he was getting lucky later, but that was off the table right now. When you walked past, you kissed Rose's hand and then his cheek before you said, "Make sure you chill the champagne. We can have fun later."

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

Jake, Cat and Jeremiah arrived with balloons, boxes of diapers, meals in tupperware containers, and a lot of excitement. 

"You didn't have to bring all of this," you said as Jake stacked things up inside the front door.

"Yes, they did," Bradley muttered, taking a peek in the food containers. "There's a casserole and a lasagna."

"You literally just ate dinner," you told him, handing Rose over to Cat who was practically vibrating with excitement. But Bradley wasn't listening as he followed the very inquisitive two year old boy around the living, making sure he didn't get hurt chasing Tramp.

"Why do babies smell so good?" Cat asked as Rose squirmed a bit in her arms. "So fresh and clean."

You didn't even get to respond before Jake squeezed you tight and said, "Congratulations, Angel. You mated with Bradshaw, and somehow the baby turned out cute."

"I would say something," Bradley retorted from next to the couch, "but I'm not allowed to swear in front of children."

Jake snorted. "I'm just messing around."

"Hey, I'm going to take him outside to play on the swings for a bit," Bradley said, scooping Jeremiah up before he could yank on Tramp's tail.

You gave him a pointed look and nodded toward Jake. "Don't we have something we'd like to ask him first?"

Bradley's smile turned into a bit of a frown. "No. I don't think we do."

"Bradley!" you scolded, and he tipped his head back with a groan.

"Fine. But I'm not saying it."

You pinched the bridge of your nose as you turned toward Jake. "Bradley and I would very much like for you to be Rose's godfather. If you're interested."

The words were barely out of your mouth before Jake had you flush against him in a bone crushing hug. "Wooo, boy. Godfather to a Bradshaw? We do live in some wild times, don't we, Rooster?"

Bradley muttered something incoherent while you asked, "Does that mean you're interested?"

He released you and turned toward Cat. "Please pass the godchild to the godfather. I'm about to make this baby an offer she can't refuse."

"She's a burrito! Not a cannoli!" Bradley called out from the sliding glass door before heading outside with Jeremiah.

"Is Phoenix her godmother?" Jake asked softly while holding Rose and supporting her head.

"Yes," you replied, in awe over how careful he was being.

"You realize that spells complete disaster, right?"

"Sure," you agreed. But you'd never seen anyone hold someone else's baby with quite as much respect as Nat and Jake held Rose.

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

Bradley played with Rose on the couch with an episode of Real Housewives of New Jersey on in the background. "You see what happens when you marry for money?" he asked his daughter as she wrapped her fingers around his pinky. "Sure, you get a Lamborghini out of the deal, but you also get arrested for tax fraud and embezzlement." He kissed her forehead. "Don't do that, okay?"

She cooed softly, and he took that as a sound of agreement.

"I'm ready."

Bradley glanced up to see you fresh out of the shower wearing the robe that Nat gave you. "I'll bring her right in," he replied.

"Grab the champagne, too."

He did exactly as he was told and handed the baby to you where you sat in the glider chair in the nursery before he carefully opened the bottle. The sound startled Rose, and she started crying hysterically. Bradley was on his knees in front of the chair instantly, kissing the top of her head. "I'm sorry, Nugget. That was way too loud."

"I think she's getting hangry, too," you mused, loosening the sash of your robe so you could feed her. And once again, Bradley was just captivated by all of it and so in love. He took a long sip of the pink champagne before offering you the bottle. "I can only have a little bit."

"I know Sweetheart, but it's your favorite." You had milk beading on your nipple while you fed Rose, and Bradley watched you lick your lips before handing the bottle back to him. He groaned softly, dizzy from all of it. 

"This is so fascinating," he whispered, taking another sip before setting the bottle down. When he reached out to touch your breast, you let him. You felt warm and heavy, and he took your milk onto his thumb and licked it clean.

"You know..." you whispered, switching Rose to your other side. "After having alcohol, it's probably a good idea to pump some of my milk to make sure she doesn't get any of it."

Bradley sat up a little straighter, willing to get you anything you needed. "Want me to set up the pump?"

"Nah," you replied, shaking your head. "I haven't gotten the hang of it yet, but I'm sure there's another way you can help me." Your graceful fingers stroked Rose's cheek as the milk drunk baby started slowing down. "When she's finished, it's your turn."

Bradley jumped to his feet as soon as Rose started to drift to sleep. "I'll get cleaned up and meet you in bed," you whispered as he took the baby from your arms. He deftly changed her diaper and got her zipped back into her sleeper before setting her in her crib.

"How about you sleep more tonight?" he asked. "Give me a chance to play with Mommy before she's too tired? I like her tits, too."

He could hear you laughing down the hallway. "I can hear you through the baby monitor!" you called out, but Bradley had no shame. He kissed his daughter one last time before turning on the night light and the ceiling fan, and then he was on his way to you.

When he stood in the doorway, you were sitting in bed with your robe open. Soft light from your lamp was making every curve of your body look irresistible to him, and now that he had you alone, he knew he was going to struggle.

He made a desperate sound as he ran his hand over his face. "Baby Girl," he whined. "I want you so bad."

"Come here," you coaxed, rubbing the spot on the bed next to you. He was there in an instant, sitting with his back against the headboard as you crawled into his lap. As soon as you nudged his shorts with your knee, he swallowed hard, saliva pooling on his tongue at the sight of your milk dripping from you and onto his shirt.

"Oh, shit," he whispered, letting you get yourself comfortable before he wrapped his arms around you. "It's my turn?"

You ran your fingers along his scarred cheek and back through his hair. "Your turn," you whispered, lips ghosting against his as he throbbed for you.

Bradley took your breasts gently in his hands, ran his thumbs along your nipples and rubbed his nose between your tits. Then he let himself taste you to his heart's content.

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

Roo is living his very best life, other than potentially seeing Jake more frequently. Hopefully Nat will balance that out for him. Grandparents are coming to visit soon! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 18

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[luveline]

whenever youre free!! can you please write a spencer x reader where we meet spencer during an early season where he’s still cute and awkward maybe we date too but something happens and we don’t see him for a long time only to meet him again when he’s older and hotter (post prison) and there’s still crazy tension after all those years. in love with your writing btw!!! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

tysm for requesting! hope this is ok :D ♡ 1.2k

cw vaguely suggestive theme

Looking at Spencer, you could almost think you were fresh out of college again, unsure of yourself and in need of a friend. 

He'd been much more than a friend. It's why you're here. 

The cake might have been a bad idea. You hold it between two hands, the subtle smell of chocolate rising from the box's ill-fitting lid. Your breath catches, words coming out wonky, "Hey. Spencer?" 

He looks up from his book, startled at being found, you think. "Y/N?" 

He looks the same. 

Obviously, he's older. He has facial hair and his curls are styled rather than having been left to their own devices, but you feel as hopelessly enamoured with him as you had years ago, because he still smiles like a puppy dog.

You're twice as surprised as he is when he stands from his coffee table to hug you. The cake box wobbles in your hands as he squeezes you, swaying you from side to side, his laugh warm in your ear. 

"What are you doing back here?" he asks, diving backward to see your face. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again." 

"I still had JJ's number, you know, from when I wanted that address, and she texted me to say you'd been released, and I," —your voice curls tighter, are you talking too much?— "know you might not want to hear from me, but I was worried about you. You were my best friend." 

His smile flickers. You press the cake into his hands. 

"That's for you," you say. 

Spencer's wavering smile turns to the box. He sets it down on the table beside his coffee cup and tented book, removing the lid carefully. You remember suddenly how nice his hands are, and the tracing of his fingertips down your bare shoulders. Goosebumps erupt along the ghost of his touch. 

"Well done on not being a criminal," he reads, snorting. "Funny. Little too soon." 

You feel like your stomach's fallen out, but he drops the act with another laugh. 

"Oh, you're still a jerk," you say. "I'm glad something hasn't changed." 

"You think I've changed?" he asks. 

"You didn't get any taller, if that's what you're asking." 

Spencer's smile turns fond. It's the sweet, sticky smile he'd always give you before he'd tell you he loved you, or that you were the best best friend ever. Or that last night, when you followed him hand in hand down the long hallway to his bedroom. 

"I wasn't that much of a jerk, was I?" he asks. 

"No, you weren't." You hold your hands behind your back. "Could I join you? Just for a bit?" 

"You brought me a cake. I can't say no, can I? Of course you can sit down. I'll get you a coffee, okay?" 

He touches his hand to your arm as he passes. You sit down in the seat across from him, sick with what-if and should-have. What if I could've stayed? Maybe I should have done more. But when Spencer ignored the letters you sent him while he was incarcerated, you figured you'd done more than he wanted. The cake was a last ditch effort, spurred on by JJ's text that read, I think he'd be really happy to see you. 

Spencer puts a china cup down in front of you. You take a sip, muscle memory, and grin at him shyly as he slides into the seat across from you. "You remembered." 

"I remember everything." 

"Right. Your photographic memory." 

"Eidetic, and sure, but I wouldn't forget about you." He reads your shyness for what it is, worry you've overstepped. He's too perceptive to trick. "I think I tried, but… I have so many bad memories, I wanted the good ones to keep." 

You can't imagine the things he experienced in prison. JJ couldn't tell you much. You knew from how you had to address his letters alone that he was sent to a general correctional facility in Mexico, rather than the protective custody he'd needed. He doesn't look terrible considering, but you've barely seen him since you had to leave. He's aged well. The only worry is his dark under eyes. 

"We had a good time," you say gently. "I knew you'd need that. That's why I sent you all those letters, you know? I wasn't trying to come back into your life, I know I don't deserve it after I left, but I couldn't stop thinking about you by yourself." 

You stare at his book. 

"How many letters did you send?" he asks. 

"I don't really remember." 

"I didn't get one." He grimaces. "I didn't get any from my mom, either. Think it was a coincidence?" 

Spencer's time in was kind of sick. He stabbed himself, made friends with criminals, played a lot of chess, and learned how to make tacos in a doritos bag. It was also arguably the loneliest and most degrading time of his life. 

One coffee becomes two, two becomes a third to go. You feel a hundred emotions but there's one that stands out the most as you drift around Pentagon City with him —wanting. You want him to be your best friend again, to rub your back and hold you when you're tired, to take you grocery shopping in his beat up P130. You want him to kiss you like he had, like he was searching for something, but he's changed so much that you don't know if your Spencer is still in there, under everything, or if he'd even want to.

"You live in the same apartment?" you ask. 

"Can you imagine how much it would cost me to move that many books? Paying the rent turns out cheaper," he says, the two of you walking in the grey street. "What about you? You didn't come all the way here to see me." 

"I actually did." You rub up the length of your upper arm, sheepish. "I did, Spencer." 

For a while, all you can hear is the plastic rustling of the bag held in his hand. 

"Thank you for writing to me. I didn't get to read them, but it makes a difference." 

You lift your head to meet his eyes. He holds your gaze, a charge behind his dark brown eyes. You used to think his irises and his pupils were one and the same, but you can see now that there are flecks of light in his irises. His hedging of thick lashes kiss in the corners as he slowly, slowly smiles. 

You glare at him. "Don't." 

"Don't what?" 

"You know what. You're doing that thing. Pretending you're not trying to make me nervous." 

"I'm not doing that. Flustered, but not nervous." Is he smirking?

"Flustered," you repeat, your smile stupidly big now, cheeks aching. "Yeah, right, Reid."

His pinky brushes yours. You don't have any proof that he's doing it purposefully, but he is. 

"Do you want to get something to eat? You can tell me what you were writing in your letters. I'd really, really like to know." His voice is threaded with a familiar timidity for the first time since you reunited. 

There you are, you think happily. "Sure. You buy me a sticky bun from our old place and I'll tell you all my written secrets." 

"Deal." 

[sexilene]

i just had this thought of yapper!gf being taken on a fishing trip with jj and him getting frustrated because she’s scaring off the fish and then she gets annoyed back at him 😩😩😩

lol soooo cuteee! ˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷ yapper!gf x jj

jj had been planning to go on a little fishing trip for a few days now, but because you've been dragging him around town he hadn't gotten a chance to. but today was the day, and because you go with him everywhere, he let you come with him. 

"are we going to have some lunch after this?" you ask hand in hand with your boyfriend as he leads you to the HMS pogue. 

"are you hungry already? didn't you just have some ice cream?" 

"that was a snack jj, are we going to eat the fish? if you catch any i mean." you giggle, looking up at him through your lashes. 

"whaddia mean if, when. when i catch some." he corrects.

"right of course! what am i supposed to do then, help you fish?"

"juuus' relax, i provide the sustenance while you sit there n'look pretty." he jokes, lifting his hand to help you get on the boat. 

as you arrived at the spot, the tranquil waters stretched out before you, jj wasted no time in setting up his fishing rods. you sit at the edge of the boat and wait patiently watching your boyfriend flip his hat around. 

"its really sexy when you do that." you smile up at him, covering the sun with your hand. 

"what? flippin' my hat backward?" he grins, turning back to look at you.

you nod and turn back to look at the water, leaning against the edge to see if you could spot any fish. 

"its really nice out...i saw this thing that um- that said, would you sell your boyfriend to make your dog live forever? and i thought about it, i would." 

he scoffs and leans back to do whatever people do when trying to reel in a fish. 

"we don't even have a dog!"

"i know, but it's the principle!" you argue back, dipping your hand into the water and swishing it around.

"you're scarin' the fish away dude! c'mon sit down." he snaps his fingers at you making you glare at him and sit back in the middle of the boat. 

 "i was just checking the temperature." you shrug with a small smile, but jj wasn't amused. 

"nough' of that and you yapping my ear off, like i love you babe, but next time bring a book or a crossword puzzle or something...." jj huffs and baits his hook and casts his line once more. 

pissed at him you decide to give him the silent treatment and pretend he isn't even there. 

after some time, in silence, jj starts to feel a little guilty but then he hears you again.

"i shoulda' pushed you in the water." you furrow your eyebrows and shake your head, just couldn't stay quiet for much longer. "alright alright, come help me, i'll teach you how to do this." he laughs, offering his hand to help you up. rolling your eyes to take hold of his hand as he pulls you up and stands behind you, placing the fishing rod in your hands and wrapping his own hands around yours to help with guidance. 

"swing it back aaaand- wait." he lets go of your hands to let you try being in control and stands beside you with his hands on his hips. in no time a fish was pulling at the hook, jj boyishly excited for you, telling you to reel it in. you try your best to be fast and get the fish out of the water. 

"that's what im talkin' about baby, atta girl!" he cheers and takes hold of the fishing rod for you, grabbing onto the fish, and placing it in a bucket. 

"i can't believe i got a fish!" you squeal, turning over to him with a smile. 

"come here..." he beams and grabs onto your face with two hands to press a bunch of sweet annoying little kisses on your cheeks. 

"nooo! you touched the fish! and i'm still pissed at you." you scrunch your face up but that only makes him wrap his arms around your waist and lift you up like a doll with your hands on his shoulders. 

"gimme a kiss, and then we'll call it a day, yeah?" he squints his eyes and tilts his head, you roll your eyes and nod. wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning in to give him a proper kiss. 

once satisfied, your boyfriend sets you down with a smile. 

"alright. let's get outta here." he spins you around and smacks your ass playfully. ᥫ᭡

[writingtraumaforever]

Courtship: Chapter 3 (Finale)

Notes: AAAAAAAAAND DONE. This was such a joy to write, guys. I love the movie-verse so, so much, and I'm glad I was motivated enough to write a little fic about our two favorite boys. I hope you all enjoyed this as much as I did, and who know! Maybe if the demand is there, I'll write a little epilogue for our two cuties~

Summary: Shadow meets the Wachowski's. Again.

Chapter Select: Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Mini-Sequel: Home Alone

Link to my AO3!

Start:

Sonic is nothing but nervous energy.

He’s been rushing about the entire morning. He took a bubble bath. He bathed Ozzie in the same bath after. He tidied his room. He put on the coolest pictures of him in the living room and the dopey ones in his dresser drawer to not be found. He combed his quills and brushed his fur. He has prepared in every possible way and still feels like things aren’t near good enough for Shadow to be impressed.

Maddie climbs up the ladder to the attic, gently lifting the door to find Sonic moving his action figures around on his shelf as if to try and find some sort of specifically aesthetic organization.

“No..,” he moves them all around again, “nuh uh,” again, “not it,” again with a frustrated groan, “You know what?? He’ll probably think they’re lame anyway.” And then he’s dumping them all in the upper drawer of his nightstand.

Maddie can’t help but smile at her spazzing son, a sympathetic knit to her brow as she knocks gently on his bedroom floor, “Knock knock?”

Sonic’s attention instantly shift to his peeping mom’s head peering through the attic door, “oh- hey, mom.”

“Hey, kiddo,” she smiles, entering now that he’s granted his approval. She looks at the neat room with raised brows, “Wow.. don’t think I’ve ever seen it so clean in here.”

“Yeah, well. I can’t have a guest thinking I’m a slob.”

“Right. Because that would be misleading,” Maddie says with a playful wink and a hint of sarcasm. Sonic just smiles at this, rolling his eyes before dashing over to his comic books that are stacked next to his bean bag. He begins looking through them, trying to decide which should go on top for viewing.

“You think Batman is cooler or the Flash??”

“Hm.. I think the Flash is pretty cool,” the mother answers as she approaches the hedgehog with a knowing look in her eyes.

“Mm… yeah, but..,” he looks at the Batman comic again before stacking the Flash and then the Batman one on top, “Shadow would probably like Batman more.”

“You’re probably right,” Maddie agrees with a nod, Sonic nodding in return as he turns to his mom again.

“Did you get the hot dogs?”

“Yup,” she assures, “Three whole packs. And the chili is currently in the slow cooker.”

“Sweet,” Sonic grins approvingly, “Shadow is gonna die when he tries your chili dogs. He’ll finally understand that they’re the best thing humans have ever invented.”

“Right,” Maddie snorts with a giggle before she crouches down to eye level with the blue blur, watching how Sonic’s eyes skim around the room looking for something else to perfect. Nerves. Anxious. Excited. Scared..

She knows.

She knows.

“Hey..,” she says softly, catching Sonic’s attention then as she takes his gloved hands into her own, “He already likes you. He wouldn’t be coming here if he didn’t.”

Sonic sighs, some of the tension leaving his shoulders as he squeezes Maddie’s hands, “I know. I know. I just-.. I really want him to think I’m cool.”

“Sonic Wachowski?? Not cool?? That’s an impossible conclusion to come to,” she smirks, Sonic giggling a bit in return.

“I know, but-.. I don’t know..”

Sonic’s ears flatten just slightly, his gaze shifting away sheepishly. And nervously..

Maddie’s smile softens again, squeezing his hands again as she speaks, “Try and relax. If you’re a nervous ball of energy, he likely will feed off that and be one too. Being cool is a nice thing to be, but being welcoming is the more important bit.. You want him to feel safe here.”

“Yeah..,” Sonic breathes with a small smile, looking at his mother earnestly, “..I just want him to want to come back.”

“I’m sure he will,” she assures with a nod, moving to kiss her boy’s spiky forehead before resting hers against it to look him in the eye, “It’ll all go just fine, Sonic. You’re a great kid.”

“I’m seventeen,” Sonic groans with a little eyeroll, but it’s harmless and he’s smiling. He knows good and well no matter how old he is, he’ll always be her baby.

“I’m sorry, you’re a great man,” she corrects with pure confidence, “And you have a big heart. I’m sure he sees that too, and finds comfort in that…”

Sonic’s eyes shut with a sigh, leaning his forehead against his mom’s a bit more before simply moving to slide his arms around her shoulders and give her a big hedgehog hug. 

“Thanks mom..”

She pets her hand along his head and rubs his ear with a smile, hugging him in return tight and warm, “Anytime.”

Sonic stays like that until he feels most of his nerves melt away, pulling back then to look her in the eye with all seriousness, “Dad’s gonna behave, right???”

Maddie hums and looks away as if unsure, “I think so,” she immediately laughs when Sonic’s face shifts to horror and gives his shoulders a playful shake, “Calm down, I’m kidding. We had a talk. And he absolutely is going to behave. As are the other boys.”

Sonic deflates with a breath of relief, “Oh thank God—“

Maddie giggles and stands up again, lightly thumping Sonic’s ear and making it twitch in the process as she turns to exit the attic, “Try and relax a bit. You’re gonna run a hole in the ceiling if you keep at it up here.”

Sonic just scoffs in playful offense, “Is that a fat joke?!”

“It’s a warning,” Maddie says with a pointed look his way as she climbs down the ladder, slowly closing the door on her way down. She playfully points at him in mock threat just before it shuts, leaving Sonic chuckling before moving to his bed.

He sits down carefully on the edge, not wanting to have to make it again. Laying back with a heavy sigh, he stares at his ceiling and tries to ignore the very aggressive butterflies that are multiplying in his stomach..

•••

Shadow has prepared himself appropriately according to his research. 

He anointed himself in his favorite scent: lavender and coffee. He combed his quills neatly. He brushed his chest fur to get any knots out. He’s even wearing an extra article of clothing: a black leather jacket. And to impress Sonic’s parents, he bought two motorcycle helmets to show he cares about safety, wearing one when he shows up at their driveway. 

He read motorcycles are often an alarming sign to most guardians for their children to be associated with, but Sonic once told him that Mr. Wachowski thought they were ‘way past cool’. So he opted to try and impress the man by catering to his interests.

Parking the bike on the street at the end of the driveway, Shadow removes his helmet and rests it on the seat. His crimson eyes stare at the Wachowski residence for a long time. A sick feeling in his stomach.

Maybe he’s ill.

No.. no, lying to himself is pointless. He’s terrified. 

He doesn’t get the luxury of domineering first impressions. He’s already made them long ago, and they weren’t exactly ideal. None of this situation is, honestly. But he has to play the cards he was dealt, and he’s determined to try his damn hardest to win this family over.

He’s watched YouTube tutorials on how to hold conversation, dinner etiquette, appropriate movie watching commentary, manners when meeting parents, common humans topics of conversation..

He’s done his research. Theoretically, this should be a walk in the park.

So why the hell couldn’t he get his feet to move???

He stares at the home. Can see the lights on, humans silhouetted and moving about through the sheer curtains of the windows.. and one blue blur flashing by now and then.

Shadow’s lips purse, his fists tightening at his sides as his stomach aches a bit more uneasily.

Sonic is inside.. Sonic is depending on him to make a good impression. Sonic has done his part in this ritual, now it’s time for Shadow to do his and-…

Nope. No, what is he thinking?? Shadow can’t do this. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s a fraud. He doesn’t deserve redemption or forgiveness. He doesn’t get to just waltz into their home and act as though he’s just some random hedgehog their son brought home. 

He nearly destroyed them.

Picking his helmet back off his motorcycle’s seat, he starts to put it back on with one last glance to the Wachowski home.

The home untouched by a monster. The home he hasn’t destroyed yet. The home that doesn’t need him involved in it..

And ruby finds emerald.

Sonic’s wide, eager eyes are looking out the window in search of his guest’s arrival and find Shadow standing there.

Damnit.

The front door opens in an instant, the blue blur standing there grinning wide and excited and happy. Shadow can see his tail wagging from here.

“Shadow!”

Shadow slowly puts his helmet back on the seat of his bike.

Welp.

No going back now.

Walking around the bike, Shadow offers a small smile to Sonic despite his current need to vomit. Or run. Running sounds more convenient.

”You’re here!” Sonic beams, and Shadow swears he’s never seen the hero so damn giddy.

“I am,” he confirms with a small nod, approaching the steps to the doorway now and stopping right outside the door.

Sonic just stares at him all sunshine and giggles for a long moment, Shadow feeling increasingly weary under his starstruck gaze.

This hedgehog expects far too much of Shadow.. he’s going to end up crushed when he sees him for what he really is eventually. But Shadow will selfishly take whatever attention Sonic will give him for now.

There’s something powerful about it.. a pure-hearted hero like Sonic wanting to court Shadow. The monstrosity. The creature. The thing.

Shadow wonders if Sonic even realizes how much of an impact the way he looks at Shadow has on him..

Sonic’s eyes linger and then look down at Shadow’s attire, “You’re wearing a jacket!”

Shadow shifts a bit on his feet, looking down at his jacket with slight embarrassment now.. maybe it wasn’t the appropriate choice?

“I.. am..?”

“It looks great!” Sonic beams, bouncing on his toes as he bites his lower lip.

“Oh..,” Shadow looks back to Sonic, a shy smile curling on his muzzle, “Thank you.”

“Sure thing,” Sonic replies immediately, going back to just staring at Shadow as if he isn’t real. Like he’s a dream. A vision.

Shadow doesn’t know what to do with that..

“May I—“

“Oh! Yeah, man, sorry—“ Sonic chuckles with a pink tint growing on his cheeks, moving out of the way to allow Shadow inside the home. Shadow steps inside and is immediately met with the smell of peppers and mahogany. He’s guessing it’s the dinner mixed with the natural Wachowski home scent. It’s not unpleasant.

Sonic closes the door behind him, and Shadow looks up to find the Donut Lord and Pretzel Lady themselves looking right back at him.

Oh sweet chaos kill him—

”Hello, Mr. And Mrs. Wachowski,” Shadow greets immediately, nerves making his hands feel a bit shaky but he steels them into hard fists at his sides.

The missus of the home speaks first, “Hello, Shadow.” Her voice is soft and sweet, and her smile looks genuine and welcoming. “We’re so happy to have you here. Welcome to our home!”

“Thank you for allowing my attendance,” Shadow politely nods, swallowing hard as his eyes shift to the man. The father. The leader. The Donut Lord. 

He doesn’t look nearly as genuine as the woman when he smiles. But he is smiling, which is something, at least.

Last Shadow saw this man, he had a foot placed firmly on his neck with a gun pressed to his temple.

Shadow will gladly and gratefully take a damn disingenuous smile.

“Of course,” the man assures, seeming a bit reluctant in his words but Shadow recognizes the effort regardless, “Any friend of Sonic’s is always welcome.”

Even if they blew up half the moon???

Shadow refrains from saying this.

“You have a lovely home, Mrs. Wachowski,” Shadow compliments, trying for some of the training he received from the Internet, “It’s very well decorated.”

“Oh- that’s so sweet,” she smiles, a hand over her heart as if it’s been touched. Shadow is glad this seems to have been the right thing to say.

“Why don’t you let Sonic give you a tour, and I’ll the table set for us to eat out back?”

“Sounds great!” Sonic approves, Shadow looking back to the hedgehog that’s been standing behind him watching the interaction with pins and needles this whole time, “C’mon! We’ll start with the living room.”

Shadow follows Sonic throughout the home, feeling Mr. Wachowski’s lingering gaze now and then when in sight. But Shadow tries not to focus on this and instead on the words Sonic is saying.

“These are our bean bags,” the blue hedgehog points to the line of three large bags, blue, yellow and red, stored against the wall of the living room behind the couch, “We pull them out in front of the tv when we watch a movie or a show. Mine is the blue one— duh. Knuckles’ is red and Tails’ is yellow. Mom and Dad take the couch.”

Shadow nods with a small hum to show he’s paying attention, not having much commentary on the matter. Sonic doesn’t seem to mind this. He makes up by talking enough for the both of them. Always has. This is their dynamic. And the familiarity of it helps Shadow feel a bit more at ease as he continues on with Sonic’s tour.

“This is the dining room where we eat— except we never eat here. We usually just sit in the living room or at the table in the kitchen to eat. We only eat here on special occasions like birthdays or holidays.”

“This is the downstairs bathroom. Always use this bathroom. Knuckles uses it the least.”

“That’s the kitchen, but we’ll stay outta there right now so we don’t get in the way.”

“This is the downstairs office where Dad will do paperwork or Mom will do some vet stuff. Sometimes she brings home animals to foster, and they sleep in here. It’s super cool! Once, she brought home an earth hedgehog. It was super slow.”

“This is the backyard—“

He’s interrupted by instant barking when he opens the door, the family dog having been outside and seemingly waiting at the door for them to join him. Shadow doesn’t like the loud noise, instantly feeling a bit overwhelmed as he takes a small step back with a frown and watches Sonic wrangle the dog by his collar.

“Ozzie! Easy! I know you’re excited we have a guest, but you gotta chill, dawg,” Sonic scolds affectionately, grinning as he tugs the pup away from the door to allow Shadow to step out without being tackled.

Shadow does, eyeing the dog and keeping his distance the entire time.

The dog— Ozzie eventually seems to calm, his barking stopping and being replaced with little whines as he eyes Shadow. His tail is wagging like Sonic’s was when he first got here.

Actually, Sonic’s tail hasn’t stopped wagging, Shadow notes.

His ears perk up from their folded back position once the barking stops, observing the dog silently with an unsure gaze..

Sonic picks up on this, offering a hand out to Shadow as he stays crouched at the dog’s side holding its collar with his opposing hand, “It’s cool. He don’t bite.”

Shadow frowns a bit, looking at Sonic’s hand a bit unsure before looking to the dog again.. then he hesitantly reaches and lets Sonic’s hand guide his own to the dog’s fur. It’s thick. He imagines it’s probably soft without his gloves on, as most well-kept fur is.. 

The dog’s head seems to tilt up into his palm when it touches between his ears, Shadow lightly curling his fingers to scratch there as Ozzie’s tongue hangs happily to the side of his muzzle. Panting and no longer whining now that he’s getting his wanted attention and affection.

Shadow’s frown dissipates slowly, replaced with a content sort of expression. He.. likes petting it. It’s comforting.

Shadow smells the distinct scent of grass on his palm when he retracts it from the dog.

“He’s a good boy,” Sonic smiles, petting the dog under its chin and behind its collar, “He likes you, too! That’s a good sign.”

Shadow’s eyes glint with pride at that, eased that he has passed yet another Wachowski test. 

They go back inside after Sonic shows Shadow the firepit and then picnic table in the back, walking in to find Tom carrying some plates towards the backdoor..

“Dinner is ready to serve,” the sheriff informs with a small smile at the two, seeming a bit more at ease now that “introductions” have been made, “Go get your brothers, huh?”

“On it,” Sonic nods, waving his hand for Shadow to follow— which he does once he’s done holding the door open for Mr. Wachowski.

“Tails’ room is the basement, “Sonic informs as they approach what Shadow had assumed was a coat closet. Instead, he finds there’s a staircase down when Sonic opens it.

“He was in the guest room, but Dad moved him when he kept waking him up at night tinkering. Said he needed more room to work.”

“That was generous of him,” Shadow replies, following Sonic down the stairs.

“Yeah. Dad is pretty supportive of our hobbies,” Sonic shrugs with a little smile, though he seems to hold a new nervousness now..

Once downstairs, Shadow is a bit taken aback by the sight.

The walls are lined with all sorts of tools and gadgets and gizmos, some he recognizes and some he’s never seen before. The room is very much divided by a workspace and an actual bedroom. The workspace being what Shadow would only describe as organized chaos while the bedroom portion is neat and tidy. Clean and almost looking untouched.

It’s intriguing, the contrast.

A personality for each tail, he supposes.

Speaking of— the young kit himself was found seated at a workbench, headphones over pointed ears and fluffy tails winding together then unwinding again behind him repetitively. He seems locked in on whatever he’s fiddling with, his tongue sticking out and his brows furrowed in concentration. Shadow almost hates to interrupt him, but Sonic approaches without a thought.

“Hey Tails,” the hero lightly nudges his shoulder causing the fox to flinch before quickly removing his headphones to turn to Sonic, “dinner’s ready.”

“Oh sweet! I’m starved!” the smaller one grins, “Just let me—“ his smile drops, eyes widening and body stiffening when he sees Shadow.

Shadow swallows, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and trying not to seem too intimidating nor too intimidated.

“Oh,” Tails says, his voice small and his ears drooping back just slightly. His body shifts as if to be a bit more behind Sonic, “hey, Shadow. L-long time no see!.. heh..”

He’s scared. Shadow hates that..

Hates he’s given the kit more than enough reason to be..

He’s actually quite good with kids, contrary to popular belief. He was made to comfort and tend to one after all.. 

His heart would’ve broken to bits had his sister ever looked at him like that..

He clears his throat, glancing around before trying to break the ice with a compliment, “Your.. workspace is impressive,” he looks back at the fox to show he’s earnest, “I haven’t seen many of these tools before.”

“Oh,” Tails’ ears perk up, though a bit hesitantly, “I uh-.. I made most of them myself.”

“You build these things??”

“Yeah! Um.. I can show you some if you want??”

“I’d like that,” Shadow nods.

Sonic listens with a growing smile, watching as Tails stands and slowly begins to show Shadow some of his creations lining the walls and tabletops. He seems pleased this is going well thus far. More than pleased. This is important to him, of course, that much is obvious. But this fox is special to Sonic. He’s protective of him, a guardian of him. He wouldn’t want Shadow to be an object of fear for him.. nor would he want to bring Shadow around if it caused Tails distress, the hybrid is sure.

There’s a soft look in Sonic’s eyes as Tails laughs at something Shadow says, though. It makes Shadow’s stomach do flips. He pretends not to notice.

“I’m actually working on a design for a plane,” Tails explains as he approaches his workbench again, showing Shadow the blueprints, “I kind of got addicted this one time I flew one while fighting Eggman. Wanna make one bigger and better.”

Shadow looks over the blueprints with intrigue, finding the knowledge of this child absolutely baffling as well as simply endearing. His thirst for knowledge is familiar to Shadow..

“The engine design is formidable,” the hybrid observes, “have you considered replacing the transonic truss-braced wings with elliptical ones??”

“I… haven’t..,” Tails hums thoughtfully, tapping his chin as he eyes his blueprints, “that would make it far more aerodynamically efficient—“

“—and produce less drag,” Shadow finishes with a nod, watching as the fox quickly picks up his pencil and makes adjustments to the blueprints

“That’s brilliant! Team Heroes definitely needs this to be fast—“

“Okay you two! Before you start nerding out, we have chili dogs-a-waitin’,” Sonic interrupts, gesturing dramatically to the stairs with a bow.

Shadow and Tails look to him, the fox chuckling sheepishly and putting his pencil back down as he rubs the back of his neck and approaches his older brother, “Sorry. Got carried away.”

“It’s cool, lil’ bro,” Sonic assures with a shrug, waiting for Shadow to walk up the stairs before following behind, “I know you’re a big dork.”

“At least I’m not a big dumb,” Tails retorts with a grin.

“Zing!” Sonic chuckles proudly. Shadow is fairly certain he could’ve thought of a comeback and simply chose to allow the fox the win. It’s cute.

“Alright, let’s go get Knucks because the dawgs are callin’ and I’m staaaarviiiiing~” Sonic sings the last word in a nonsensical way that Shadow has grown accustom to from the hedgehog, smirking slightly as he follows him towards the side door.

Once outside, Shadow notes a large, white shed to the side of the house with its lights on, putting together that that must be where the echidna stays.

As if reading his mind, Sonic narrates, “Knuckles’ room is in the shed. Him and Mom had a lot of fights when he first moved in because he was a bit destructive. After a while, though, we realized this was just because he wasn’t use to sharing his space. He was pretty much a loner before all us, and he likes his independence and to be his own boss. So Mom renovated the shed for him and surprised him with it. I think that’s the first time he hugged her. It was pretty cool,” Sonic reminisces, walking backwards towards the shed so he can keep his eye on Shadow as he speaks.

“She sounds like a very perceptive mother,” Shadow analyzes.

“Oh, she is,” Sonic nods with wide eyes, “It’s scary sometimes how she knows things. It’s like she can read minds or something.”

Shadow’s ears fold back slightly at that, glancing towards the house again and wondering if his mind is currently being invaded..

To his knowledge, humans don’t have this ability, though.

Sonic knocks on the shed door once before opening it right on up. They’re instantly met with loud rap music playing over a speaker, Shadow’s ears once again folding back at the unwelcomed noise.

Sonic seems to notice this, rushing in a dash to switch the music off. This immediately disturbs the echidna who is sitting on a weight bench with a large spear in hand, sharpening the tip with a rock of some sort.

“Hey! Who dares to interrupt my bops?!” the red echidna barks, purple eyes turning to lock on crimson ones.

Oh boy.

The fox was one thing. He feared Shadow, which is something Shadow felt he could change relatively simply with time and trust. But the echidna???

He challenged Shadow.

“Ah! The Utmost Living Being!”

“The Ultimate Lifeform..,” Shadow mumbles the correction with a small frown, trying not to seem annoyed by the guardian’s incompetence. He’s had a lot of practice with Sonic.

“Whatever. You have arrived!” Knuckles continues, standing to approach the two now. Shadow is wary of the spear still in his hand, not even flinching when Knuckles points it directly at him, nearly grazing his chin. The echidna’s voice is deathly serious, gaze firm and menacing like a predator, “What are your intentions with my brother?”

Sonic’s eyes widen with a loud and awkward, “OH-KAY! That’s enough of that, ha-ha!” He’s quickly between the two, shoving the spear away from Shadow’s face with a little glare to his brother. Knuckles ignores it, keeping his eyes locked daringly on Shadow over Sonic’s shoulder. Shadow just looks back unphased before looking back to the nervously laughing Sonic.

“Don’t be weird, Knuckles,” the hedgehog growls under his breath, the echidna scoffing at this as if offended.

“Weird?! I am not being weird! I am merely engaging in conversation with our guest.”

“A weird conversation. And an unnecessarily aggressive one!”

“All aggression is necessary,” Knuckles corrects, finally looking from Shadow to Sonic, “Besides, I am the eldest brother. It is my duty to protect the tribe from newcomers!”

“Dude. Mom and Dad already have it covered. Just— be cool,” Sonic groans, crossing his arms at his brother. 

“The Lady of Pretzels and Lord of Donuts are easily persuaded. I am not,” Knuckles shrugs, looking back to Shadow, “You are welcome to our home! But I will be watching you..”

Shadow just nods at this, “Understandable.”

Sonic groans more at this, seeming annoyed with Knuckles’ typical dramatic antics before he just rubs a hand down his face and shrugs it off, “Whatever. Just— dinner’s ready.”

“Oo sustenance! Is there grapes???” Knuckles’ demeanor shifts from intimidating to giddy like a dime, his eyes wide with hope.

“Yes. She made fruit salad and included grapes. Just for you,” Sonic huffs, turning towards the door to which Shadow promptly follows.

“Superb. She is absolutely a wonderful mother,” Knuckles hums pleased as he follows behind the two, “I am very glad I picked her.”

“Right,” Sonic rolls his eyes, leading the trio across the yard, picking his battles and not arguing with Knuckles on that one.

Shadow can’t help but find the entire interaction amusing. Their dynamic is so different than Sonic and Tails’, but it’s still laced with affection. It’s also endearing. 

Once back inside, the three find that the house is empty and assume the others are already out back waiting in the yard.

Joining them outside, Shadow is immediately met with the appetizing aroma of chili as well as assorted fruits and some sort of meat.

He doesn’t have to eat as much as normal people do, but he certainly doesn’t mind it if it’s a good enough meal.

Tails is sitting with Mrs. Wachowski at the table, fixing his plate with a hot dog and a simple topping of ketchup with a bowl of chili separate on the side. He’s already digging in, not realizing how hungry he was since he had been caught up in his work. 

Mr. Wachowski is squatted by a cooler, filling his cup with ice along with three others that Shadow assumes is for the three who just came outside. Sonic dashes right up to the family, obviously quite eager for their dinner if his wagging tail is anything to go off of. Knuckles follows behind, grabbing himself a paper plate and beginning to stack it up quite messily with anything that seems to be appetizing to his eyes. Topped with a concerning amount of grapes, Shadow notes.

“This food palette looks very balanced and appetizing, Mrs. Wachowski,” Shadow comments, looking at the full picnic table. The vet smiles wide at this, “Thank you, Shadow. That’s very sweet.”

Sonic turns to Shadow, handing him a paper plate with a little smile, “Here ya go.” Shadow looks at the plate a moment and then Sonic, “Thank you.” “Yup! Fix yourself some sides. We got beans, salad, chips– but your dawg?? It’s mine.” Shadow blinks. “I don’t have a dog.”

He notices the way the mother bites her lips together with an amused smile behind Sonic’s shoulder, exchanging knowing glances with the fox who giggles quietly.

“I meant your chili dog,” Sonic clarifies with a head tilt, “I’m gonna fix your first ever chili dog for you.”

“Oh..,” Shadow mumbles, cheeks turning a bit rosy with embarrassment at his incessant habit to take things a bit too literally and not quickly catch onto slang.

“Yeah, so fill your plate and let the master do his thing,” Sonic winks before turning around to get started on building Shadow’s chili dog. And my isn’t it a concoction..

Upon closer examination once placed in front of him, he takes in the ingredients he can curiously, his nose overwhelmed with the complexity of spices he senses.

A hot dog. Chili. Shredded lettuce. Cheese. Ketchup. Mayo. Onion. Tomato. Peppers. And to Shadow’s slight surprise, brown sugar mixed with hot sauce sprinkled on top of it all. 

Interesting.

Shadow’s mouth forms a sideways line as he looks at the intimidating beast of a feast placed before him, looking at Sonic whose chili dog looks identical and is already being devoured by the blue menace. 

Taking a breath, Shadow looks back to his chili dog. He can feel the others watching him. The Wachowskis, Tails, Knuckles.. Sonic even pauses to look at him expectantly, waiting to see his reaction to the ultimate food.

Shadow slowly picks up the chili dog, having to be extra careful not to make a mess of his gloves from all the sloppy contents of the item. He examines it only a moment longer before he opens his mouth and takes a big enough bite to get at least a little of everything.

And as he expected, he’s overwhelmed. There’s too much going on in his mouth for him to properly process it. The flavors are strong, the textures varying with each chew. It makes his spine shiver a bit, slowly chewing it as he keeps his tongue in the back of his mouth like it’ll calm his senses a bit. 

But courting etiquette for humans is to always compliment your host for their meal.

So swallowing his disgust and the bite, Shadow offers a small smile and lies, “It’s delicious.” Sonic snorts at this, immediately bursting into laughter as Knuckles snickers as well. Tails is giggling with the mother and Mr. Wachowski is smiling as if amused.

Shadow just blushes a bit more, shrinking slightly in fear he may have said something wrong. “Oh you poor thing,” Maddie tuts sympathetically, standing to grab another plate and begin fixing a new chili dog, “You don’t have to eat all that. The Sonic Special is very much coded for Sonic.” “Yeah, man,” Sonic snickers, lightly shaking Shadow by his shoulder and then moving his plate from in front of him, sneaking it onto the ground for the dog to devour, “It’s cool. Not everyone can handle so much in one bite.”

Shadow looks at him and then glances up to watch Mrs. Wachowski place a new plate before him. This one looking more like the fox’s. Simple. A hot dog, nothing on it.

“You can add any toppings you like, sweetie,” Maddie smiles, taking her seat again.

“Or you can just have it plain! I only like ketchup on mine,” Tails encourages with a little grin.

“Mine is a mighty volcano,” Knuckles brags, forking another large scarf of the conglomeration down. 

“See? It’s alright to like different stuff,” Sonic winks, nudging Shadow’s side with his elbow before looking back to his own food to continue eating.

Shadow looks around at the others a moment, watching as they all get on with their meals now and not paying him as much mind. Mr. Wachowski’s gaze catches his, though, still watching him with an expression Shadow doesn’t know how to translate. But the officer offers a little smile and nod, to which Shadow returns. He then looks down, and after a moment of hesitation, he tries his simple hot dog.

The rest of dinner goes smoothly. Shadow finishes his plate with ease, quite enjoying the more traditional forms of the food rather than the exaggerated versions his counterparts ate. They all share conversations, the subject often shifting and leaving Shadow a bit lost now and then. But he does his best to keep up, even adding a small input here and there but nothing more.

It’s intriguing.. watching a family. He remembers his time on the ARK with Maria.. How they’d share meals in the cafeteria but often would sneak away to sit on the floor in front of the large window viewing earth to eat together instead. They didn’t have a large family, but they had each other. And that was plenty..

He sees that in these people. Their bond is strong. They’re comfortable with one another. Open and honest and accepting of their differences. It’s..refreshing.

The only time he’s directly addressed is by Mr. Wachowski. “So Shadow,” he starts, swallowing his bite before continuing, “What are you doing these days?”

Shadow pauses. He read about this. The parents of one’s partner will often feel out how successful or motivated one is to see if they’re worthy of taking care of their offspring. 

“Shadow??? He’s doing his own thing, you know. Being cool and–”

“I believe I was talking to Shadow,” Tom cuts Sonic off, though his voice holds no spite and he’s smiling knowingly at Sonic.

Sonic just smiles a bit sheepishly with a quiet “right” before looking to Shadow, not speaking for him this time. Though, Sonic looks a bit nervous, now. Perhaps he fears his father won’t approve of Shadow’s answer.

“I have recently began working with GUN,” Shadow says, looking at Tom now who seems a bit taken aback by this answer if his raised brows are anything to go off of. Next to him, Shadow sees Sonic’s face shift to one of surprise as well.

“You didn’t tell me that..” “It was confidential up until recently,” he explains, looking from Sonic to Tom again, “Nothing is official, but we’re getting close to some sort of work agreement..” “Sounds serious,” Tom replies with an intrigued look, “Didn’t really expect you to want anything to do with GUN..” After my grandfather who was an agent shot your sister goes unsaid, but Shadow hears it nonetheless.

He replies, “I didn’t. Not for some time, at least.” “What changed your mind?”

“Sonic,” Shadow answers bluntly, feeling everyone’s eyes land on him at once, including the said blue hedgehog next to him. 

“..He’s not from here. He’s different. Powerful. And in terms of this planet’s mentality, he’s a threat. That’s what I was seen as,” Shadow explains, eyes staying on Tom’s as to not be intimidated by the many others peering at him, “He was hunted by humanity at first, not seen as a hero but rather a mystery. And humans never take to things they don’t understand well.. But Sonic didn’t let this discourage him. He continued to fight for his freedom and for the freedom of this world from evil-doers like Ivo Robotnik. And with time, he earned their trust. Proved himself. They stopped seeing him as different and saw him as an ally and a hero.. I don’t want to be a hero, but an ally is a good place to start. And while GUN has been corrupted before, I’d say they have good intentions in the long run to protect this world even if often misguided. I plan to be there to help guide them. Make sure what happened on the ARK never happens again..”

He looks to Sonic now, quoting something the blue hero once told him, “I can’t expect change if I just stand still.. I gotta make a move.”

Sonic’s eyes stare back at Shadow, a slow and wide smile forming on his muzzle along with rose tinted cheeks. A look of pride glistening in his eyes.

“That..,” Tom speaks, gaining Shadow’s attention again, “.. is a pretty damn good answer.”

Tom smiles at him. Shadow smiles back.

Dinner ends, and Mrs. Wachowski stands to start gathering up plates to trash, “Okay, Knuckles and Tails. Dishes.”

“What about Sonic?” Knuckles asks, looking distraught that he has to do more work than his brother. Tails is unbothered and already working on gathering up the serving dishes and leftovers to carry inside. 

“He has a guest over,” Tom answers with a pointed look at Knuckles, “So he has to host.”

“So having a guest means you don’t have to do these silly tasks??” Knuckles scoffs as if scandalized by this information, as though he’s been personally targeted.

“Yup. ‘Fraid so, buddy.”

Knuckles huffs at this, snatching a few dishes as he begins making his way back to the house with something along the lines of ‘I must make more friends’ being grumbled from him.

Sonic sticks his tongue out mockingly at the red echidna when he walks by, earning the blue hedgehog a hard punch to the gut. 

“Sonic? Have you shown Shadow your room?” Maddie asks, earning a pointed glare from Mr. Wachowski. Sonic immediately grins and, “Oh! I haven’t! Wanna see??”

Shadow nods at him with a small smile, “Yes, please.”

“Sweet, it’s this way,” he nods his head for Shadow to follow him back inside.

“What the hell was that??” Tom hisses to Maddie once they’re gone, “They don’t need to be alone in his room together–”

“Oh stop,” Maddie rolls her eyes at him with a little grin, “They’ll be fine. Sonic gets antsy just making eye contact with Shadow for too long, and Shadow-... well, I don’t even think Shadow knows how to flirt, let alone make a move.”

Tom groans a little but lets it go, figuring she’s probably right..

Plus, he trusts his boy to make good decisions.

“Here it is!” Sonic announces, climbing up a ladder into the attic, Shadow following behind. It.. isn’t exactly what Shadow was expecting. He was honestly expecting an absolute trainwreck. Clothes everywhere, weird smells, the whole shebang. Instead, he finds a room that so painfully screams Sonic. It’s enchanting in a charismatic sort of way. There’s charming lights lined along the ceilings, multiple road signs that allude to Sonic’s speed. The bed itself resembles a racecar, Shadow finding this immature but endearing. The shelves are lined with trinkets and random objects that must hold enough meaning for Sonic to keep them despite seeming unimportant. A beanbag is sat in the corner with a stack of comic books next to it. Sonic has lended some to Shadow before, and he respects the hero’s infatuation with them. Definitely sees where he gets his heroic antics from.

Shadow looks around the room in wonder. It’s a stark contrast to his own current sleeping arrangements.. Up until a few weeks ago, Shadow had honestly sort of just skipped around from rooftops to caves to trees to sleep. GUN offered him a more permanent place in an apartment in Central City..

It’s very empty. And very unlived in. Sonic’s room?? It’s warm and comforting and feels like a home. A safe space.

Shadow can tell each and every object that’s in here is likely treasured dearly by the blue hedgehog.. Well. except the dirty sock peeking out from under the bed. But Shadow chooses not to acknowledge that for Sonic’s sake.

“Welcome to Casa de Sonic,” the blue hedgehog grins, spreading his arms in showmanship of his space, “Pretty cool, huh??” He seems chill, but Shadow can tell he’s holding onto Shadow’s every move and breath.

Shadow looks at him and then around the room, turning to do a slow 360 look of the place before looking back to Sonic and offering a small smile and approving nod, “Very cool.”

Sonic’s arms drop with a breath of relief, a little chuckle escaping him as he looks at Shadow a moment and then looks towards his bed. In a blur of blue and brief gust of wind, Sonic is plopping onto the bed and then sitting up to look at Shadow, “Mom and Dad set it up for me as a surprise one time. I’ve kinda made it my own since then, but they did a pretty great job of laying down a solid foundation for all my dudeitude.”

“Dudeitude??” Shadow questions, walking over to sit next to Sonic on the bed once Sonic pats the spot next to him. “Yeah, you know, like– dude attitude?” “Oh,” Shadow smiles a bit at this, looking down and discreetly brushing the dirty sock out of sight under the bed with his heel before Sonic can see and be embarrassed, “Yes. Dudeitude is a very accurate word for you, I’d say.”

Sonic snickers at that, smiling all wide as he looks at Shadow. Shadow shyly keeps his eyes away, looking around the room and examining the smaller details like the subtle footprints on the ceiling or the jar with one singular owl feather on the nightstand.

“...So..,” Sonic says after a pause, breathing a quiet sigh before speaking, “What do you think??” “Think?” Shadow questions, finally meeting Sonic’s intense gaze again. “Yeah. Of.. ya’know. My family?” “Oh,” Shadow blinks, a bit thrown off by the question before he offers a soft look and mumbles quietly, “They’re really lovely.”

“They are, aren’t they?” Sonic smirks. “Mm,” Shadow nods, his eyes drifting away from Sonic’s and down to his own lap as he fiddles with the zipper of his jacket, “...What do you think they think?” “Hm?”

“Of me..?”

There’s a long pause of silence, and Shadow isn’t sure if that’s good or bad. But when he brings himself to look back at Sonic, he sees he’s simply thinking his answer over rather than answering immediately.

“I think Mom likes you,” he starts, offering a reassuring smile, “But she’s the easy one to win over, honestly. Tails seems to like talking nerd with you, so that’s totally a good sign! Knuckles is an idiot,” Sonic rolls his eyes and Shadow smirks slightly, “but I think he sees you as strong and formidable which means you have his respect. That’s all you can really ask for of him, honestly. It’s a pretty high honor.”

“And what of your father..?”

Sonic looks at Shadow, tilting his head at him with a sympathetic sort of smile, “..He seems to like you enough to give you a chance. And I think what you said out there about being the change you wanna see in the world definitely won you some brownie points.”

Shadow deflates in relief, some of the tension leaving his rigid spines as he nods and looks down with a mumbled, “Good.. then I’m doing well.” “You’re doing great,” Sonic assures, his hand moving to rest on Shadow’s shoulder and giving it a small squeeze.

Shadow looks back at Sonic at this, not being able to convey it with words but hoping his eyes show how much he appreciates this. All of this. This opportunity and this bond.. 

This chance.

Shadow’s hand moves to rest on Sonic’s knee as his way of trying to show he acknowledges the reassurance, but Sonic’s face does this funny thing and his ears get all pink.

“Okay!” he’s suddenly standing, Shadow’s hand dropping back to his own lap, “Well, we should head back down! I wanna be there when they pick a movie, so Knuckles doesn’t make us watch Planet of the Apes for the billionth time!” His laugh seems a bit shaky, his face flushed.

“Are you okay??”

“Me?? I’m cool. Coolcoolcoolcoolcool–”

“Hey,” Shadow interrupts, standing to shove Sonic’s shoulder, “Bring the dudeitude back.”

Sonic pauses, blinking at Shadow before a little grin forms and be breathes, “Right. Dudeitude.”

Shadow nods with a small smile, not at all realizing the affect he has on this blue hedgehog, but not wanting him to be nervous around him either.

They got back down the ladder to find Tails and Knuckles have finished the dishes and Tom has finished putting away leftovers, leaving Maddie and Ozzie sitting on the couch flipping through Netflix for something to watch.

“Hey you two! You’re just in time to pick a movie,” Maddie greets, “Shadow, you have a preference?” Shadow offers a small shake of his head, “No ma’am, I don’t know many films..”

He was brought up on a space station in the 50s. Movies weren’t exactly on-demand.

“That’s alright. We’ll have to fix that!” she winks, making Shadow’s stomach flip at the idea of them potentially inviting him over for more movie nights in the future, “Sonic, you got a pick??”

“Let’s watch a heartfelt film about a man who loves his dog–,” Sonic begins his answer with zero hesitation, Tom walking into the room to shut that down real quick.

“We’re not watching John Wick,” he grunts as he plops onto the couch next to Maddie, throwing his arm on the back of the couch behind her, “Nothing that isn’t PG.” Sonic groans, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms, “You guys are no fun.” “Yeah, it’s in the dad job description,” Tom coos with a smirk. 

Sonic concedes, shrugging and walking towards the loveseat against the wall diagonal to the couch, “We can sit here, Shads.”

“I thought your spot was in the bean bag??” Shadow’s brow furrows, sitting beside Sonic on the loveseat nonetheless. 

Sonic’s body tenses a bit, blushing as he fumbles, “Uh, well–” “Yeah, Sonic,” Mr. Wachowski teases from the couch, “Why don’t you sit in your bean bag like usual??”

Sonic’s puffs his cheeks with a glare at his dad, Mrs. Wachowski swatting at the snickering man’s shoulder with a huffed, “Leave him alone.” “Yeah! Leave me alone!” Sonic agrees, throwing a pillow at his father’s face.

Tom grunts when it hits him, huffing as he tosses it back at Sonic with an offended face, “Since when was this abuse the father night??” “Since you decided to challenge the world’s best hero,” Sonic smirks proudly.

The banter continues, but Shadow is completely lost on any of what just happened anyway. He just finds the interaction between the family members amusing.

And Sonic does not in fact sit in his bean bag.

Tails and Knuckles join them in the living room, Tails carrying a bucket of popcorn and Knuckles having a bowl of grapes. Shadow doesn’t think he could eat another single thing even if he wanted– which is what he tells Sonic when he asks if Shadow would like any snacks.

They all come to an agreement on a movie called Wreck It Ralph. The plot being something along the lines of a videogame character that somehow has thoughts and feelings and doesn’t want to be the bad guy he was written to be.

It sounds silly in concept, but Shadow can’t take his eyes off the screen the whole time.

It’s not until he feels Sonic shivering a bit beside him that Shadow averts his attention to the blue hedgehog beside him. Shadow has been sitting up straight watching the film this entire time, but Sonic is curled in a small ball leaning against the arm of the chair next to him and watching with tiny shivers now and then. It is chilly in this room, Shadow supposes. But he never gets cold, so..

It doesn’t take but a moment for him to decide to take his jacket off and carefully drape it over Sonic’s curled up form.

“You don’t have to–”

“Hush. The movie is playing,” Shadow mumbles, ignoring how precious Sonic looks all huddled under his coat with only his nose, big eyes, and perked ears peeking above the collar. The way Sonic’s eyes squint in the corners let him know he’s smiling..

Shadow’s attention turns back to the movie, unbeknownst to him his warm gesture was noted by his counterpart’s parents and had Maddie smiling all soft with a silent ‘aw’ as she leans over on her husband who just smiles as well.

The movie’s ending has Shadow feeling certain ways.

Ralph is still the bad guy, but he’s.. happy with that. He knows his purpose, and he knows the candy princess speedster will still accept him despite his destructive tendencies. 

It..perhaps hits him a little close to home, and when he Ralph is chanting the villain support group’s affirmation, he finds himself memorizing it to heart.

‘I’m bad, and that’s good. I will never be good, and that’s not bad. There’s no one I’d rather be than me.’

Shadow gasps when Ralph sacrifices himself for the others in the arcade, eyes wide and glossy on the screen and his heart pounding in his chest. He feels like he can’t swallow. Like his palms are sweating. He’s seeing stars fly past him. Seeing the ARK get further and further away as he falls. Seeing–

He feels a hand rest on his and squeeze tight, flinching at the touch and immediately looking over to find Sonic staring wide eyed at the screen too..

They’re both seeing the same thing..

Shadow squeezes Sonic’s hand in return, finally allowing a deep breath to exhale as he relaxes again and looks back to the screen.

They’re here. Not space. Not the ARK. Here..

And there’s nowhere Shadow would rather be than here.

The movie ends. Maddie moves to carefully and silently step next to the bean bag Tails is laying in, the poor fox having fallen asleep around when Ralph was building Vanellope’s race track. She carries the kit down to his room to tuck him in, Knuckles rising from his own bean bag and stretching his muscles before announcing that he too would be retiring for the night.

He wishes his family goodnight and offers Shadow a simple nod of his head and smirk before heading out to his shed.

Tom looks over to Sonic and Shadow. Sonic is now properly wearing Shadow’s jacket and sitting up again, Shadow next to him looking back to Tom as if awaiting what they’re expected to do next.

“Well, Sonic. I think it’s time to call it a night,” the father announces, Sonic’s ears folding back at this and a small pout forming on his muzzle.

“Aw, but we’re not even tired,” he ironically says just before yawning. Shadow chuckles a bit at this and Tom just smiles and raising a brow at Sonic. Sonic groans and stands up, “Alright..” Shadow stands as well, looking to see Maddie now coming back up from the basement.

“We’ll walk you out, Shadow,” Tom offers, Shadow nodding politely as they all move towards the door.

Once outside, Tom immediately takes notice in Shadow’s bike sitting at the end of the driveway. “Did you ride that here???” 

There it is.

He seems impressed as he looks the bike over the best he can from the doorway, Shadow looking to his bike as well now.

“I did,” the hybrid nods.

“What kind?” “Ducati Panigale V4 SP.”

“The Dark Rider??” “Yes sir.”

“Nice. Helmets?” “Two.” “Very nice,” Tom smirks, nodding approvingly as he looks back to Shadow.

Shadow just smiles small and proud, pleased his plot to impress the Donut Lord with his motorbike came to fruition.

“That mean I can go for a ride on it??” Sonic chimes in.

“No,” Maddie answers instead, the blue hedgehog knitting his brows and looking at Tom in preparation to protest only for Tom to wink at him and subtly nod.

Sonic grins. Shadow hums out a chuckle.

“It was really nice meeting you properly, Shadow,” Maddie says warmly, reaching out her hand to shake Shadow’s. Shadow obliges and shakes hers politely with a nod, “Likewise, Mrs. Wachowski.” “Glad we could see this version of you,” Tom adds, reaching to shake Shadow’s hand now, “Ya’know. The version that isn’t set on destroying the world.”

Shadow is about to get nervous at this, but he sees the playful smirk on Tom’s face. Glad to know where Sonic gets his sarcastic attitude.

“I appreciate the opportunity, sir,” Shadow chuckles breathily, shaking the Donut Lord’s hand.

“I’m sure we’ll be seeing you around more often,” Tom adds with a knowing smile, “So long as you take care of my son, that is.”

Sonic groans audibly, flushing as he rubs a hand down his face.

Shadow just nods seriously at this, seeming to take this task to heart.

They both speak at the same time.

“We’re not like that!” “I will.”

They blink. Each processing the other’s words as wide eyes meet in surprise. Both blushing. Both seeming to try and register what the other just said. 

Maddie and Tom stare with wide eyes too.

“Ooo..,” Tom hisses, “Awkward..” Maddie is quickly grabbing her husband to pull him inside, chuckling awkwardly as she goes, “Well, be safe going home, Shadow.” “Yeah, take care!’

The door shuts.

Sonic and Shadow stand alone on the doorstep, still staring at each other.

Sonic, never being one to stay quiet long, is the one to speak first.

“You will..?” he breathes a little smile at that, looking shy now as he rubs the back of his neck with a blushing muzzle, “What did you mean by you will?”

“I meant I’d take care of you,” Shadow states as though it’s obvious, though he’s starting to fear he has in fact had a very deep and embarrassing misunderstanding of their circumstances. His ears stand extra tall, tensing them up so they don’t droop back in disappointment.

“We.. aren’t like that..? I don’t understand.” “I-... you thought we were like that??” “I thought that’s what all this was,” Shadow says quietly, becoming more and more embarrassed as he reruns all this in his head, “You chasing me. Insisting on being in my life. Always planning to meet again. All the circling and snorting and puffing–”

Sonic deadpans, “the what?” “Hedgehog courting rituals!” Shadow huffs, now getting irritated the more he grows humiliated, “All my research talked about it! It’s clearly stated that everything you were doing to pursue me was as a mate.” Sonic’s eyes widen further at this, ears drooping back and now his entire chest and ears are pink too.

“Mate??..,” his voice is small as realization begins to build.

“And then you invited me over to meet your parents for their approval, yes??” Shadow asks, tilting his head with a knit of his brow as he tries to understand where he misread the signs, “That was the objective??” “Woah, hey. Shadow. The objective was to have their approval on me getting to hang out with you, not–”

He stops, seeing how Shadow’s ears twitch back a bit. How his stance is now a bit more drooped than tall and confident. How his eyes hold confusion and shame..

It breaks Sonic’s heart.

Sonic purses his lips, sighing as he looks away shyly and, “...I guess I kinda did do all that, huh??”

Shadow doesn’t answer, just slowly moves to cross his arms in a defensive sort of manner. His crimson eyes averted towards the ground.

Sonic chews on his lower lip and looks back to Shadow, “I’m a hedgehog. Not an earth hedgehog, though, ya’know?? I don’t even know how my kind of hedgehog would try to initiate a–... what’d you call it??” “Courtship,” Shadow mutters.

“Right. That,” Sonic sighs, frowning at how this night took a sudden turn for the awkward and heavy.

It had been going so well.

“...I’m sorry, Shads–” “Don’t-,” Shadow interrupts, eyes closing as he takes a deep breath to gather himself, finishing with a sighed, “--apologize. I shouldn’t have made so many assumptions. That’s not your fault.” “Well, I feel like it kinda is,” Sonic insists, brows knit at the ebony hedgehog in front of him.

This can’t ruin this. He can’t lose him.

“Look..,” Sonic says after a breath, rubbing a hand back through his own quills before pausing to notice Shadow’s eyes were still shut, “Hey… look at me, Shads.”

Sonic’s hand reaches up to delicately cup Shadow’s cheek, tilting his head up to face him as crimson eyes open to meet emerald.

Sonic offers a soft smile, “I know I’m all about going fast, but...we don’t need to rush this.”

Shadow blinks, staying quiet as he listens to the blue hero speak.

“I.. don’t know what we are,” Sonic admits quietly, “I thought we were just buddies, but.. I’d be kidding myself if I said I didn’t know you were different for me.” Shadow chews on the inside of his cheek, still not saying anything in fear of saying the wrong thing and humiliating himself further.

“..I think.. We can take this slow, huh??” Sonic offers, a small smile as he knits his brows up and tilts his head at his rival, “Learn each other better. Learn ourselves better. Maybe go on some actual dates..?” Sonic chuckles a bit and Shadow can’t help but lean his cheek into Sonic’s palm slightly. 

Sonic rubs his thumb along Shadow’s muzzle.

“We’ll figure this out,” he assures simply as if it’s just a fact of life, “Because I’m not goin’ anywhere. And even if you tried to, I’d find you, Faker.”

Shadow can’t help but smile at that, chuckling at the reference to one of their not-so-friendly first encounters. He looks down between them a moment before lifting his eyes back to Sonic.

“We’ll figure this out,” Shadow agrees with a nod.

“We’ve got plenty of time.” “Plenty.”

Sonic smiles at this, breathing a small sigh of relief through his nose that they’re gonna be okay. This misunderstanding won’t ruin or change anything.

“We just gotta learn how to communicate better, dude,” Sonic chuckles, Shadow humming amusedly as well. 

“Agreed.”

Sonic smirks at this. And maybe he looks at Shadow’s eyes a little too long or lets his hand linger on his cheek a bit longer than needed, but sue him.

He just found out Shadow the Hedgehog wants to court him.

Screw that. He just found out what the heck courting even was.

Sonic needs to get educated, he decides.

Shadow ever so subtly rubs his cheek against Sonic’s palm in a nuzzling sort of manner before he takes a step back, Sonic��s hand falling back to his side. The two smile at one another a moment longer before Shadow just smirks with a “hmph” and turns to walk down the front steps.

Sonic watches with a content little smile, “...Wanna race tomorrow??” Shadow keeps walking, not turning around as he responds, “Arcade or waffle house??”

“Waffle house. I’ve been craving french toast.”

Shadow chuckles, waving a hand up at the hedgehog over his shoulder with a nod.

Sonic just grins at this, biting his lower lip before flinching at the sudden realization–

“Oh! Shadow!”

Shadow turns to face him again as Sonic quickly makes his way down the steps and across the yard to him, moving to take Shadow’s jacket off himself– though Shadow notices the slight look of loss as Sonic removes his arm from the first sleeve.

“You forgot this–” “Keep it,” Shadow interrupts, lifting his hand to halt Sonic.

“..Really??” Sonic’s tail wags behind him, a smile curling back onto his muzzle.

“Looks better on you,” Shadow insists, moving to help Sonic put his arm back in and settle it properly on his shoulders once more. 

Sonic just beams at this, “Agree to disagree, pal,” his gaze softens as Shadow looks him over, “But thanks..”

Shadow just smirks at this, shrugging and turning to his bike, “Don’t mention it.”

Sonic shoves his hands in the jacket’s pockets, crossing his arms so that it’s snug around him.

It smells like lavender.. Like a hug from Shadow.

Shadow straddles his bike, looking back to find Sonic standing there with his eyes shut and his nose buried in the jacket’s collar. He smirks smugly.

“It’s called anointing, by the way.” “Huh??” Sonic jumps slightly, jolting from his daze.

“Covering yourself in your mate’s scent,” Shadow explains, placing the helmet he doesn’t actually use in the bag attached to his bike before finishing, “It’s called anointing.”

Sonic blinks, eyes widening as a blush grows on his cheeks with a sheepish, “oh..”

Shadow just cranks his bike up, revving it to life before looking back to Sonic with a wink, “See you tomorrow, Hedgehog.”

Sonic’s left feeling dumbstruck as Shadow drives off from their home and down the street before eventually disappearing with a roar of the engine.

Sonic may not know it yet, but Shadow knows..

They’re absolutely courting.

[littleplantfreak]

A Candle’s Memory

Pairing: Umemiya x Reader

Cw: Fluff and slight hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1782

I did this as an exercise that turned into me writing for longer than I was supposed to because I felt sad about leaving it unfinished. The Prompts were candle wick or an old flame rekindled (I did both) and the theme was : Preservation in preparation for the coming winter, we try to hold onto the last bit of warmth. Write about letting go, or not wanting to.

Oh! Thank you @birinboom, min skat and my lovely beta reader. I wouldn’t have posted it without you 😘

Thunk

Snow hitting your window snaps your mind out of the book you were reading and breaks the immersion completely, causing more anger than fear. You know the face that pops up outside the window immediately as you give him a bored look. For a 12 year old, Umemiya's more dependable than most adults, dragging himself out of bed at 6:00AM to shovel the older neighbors' sidewalks. His cheeks and nose are stained red, and his sniffling causes the window to fog up.

When you crack the window halfway, the warmth is sucked out of your room, the wind blowing the candle you were using as a reading light out. Dog earring the page of your book, you reach out as your hands cover his cheeks, hoping to bring him some form of warmth. You really have to pity his poor skin with the way he gives it no more care than to wrap a scarf around his neck and sometimes bury his face deep in it to keep away frostbite.

"Whatcha readin' this time?" He asks, feeling the blood return to his face now that there's warm skin over his own frigid cheeks. The candle blown out stares him down while the wax cools as if faulting him for its death.

"Treasure Island. You should read it after I'm done." Because he should. You know his taste, and this is something he can get behind. Pirates and adventure for a boy who's got an equally adventurous dream roiling in his bones. He never asks what it's about, and you never tell him, both content at the surprise.

"I'll pick it up on my way to school," Is all he says to that before taking the matches off the side of the table and relighting your candle. He hops down a little ways, setting out to do at least two more sidewalks before he has to go back home and get dressed.

This routine continues until it stops snowing. Or at least you would think it would. He doesn't have any real reason to come back once it's warm enough, you'd think, but when he shows up on a morning without snow, you're a bit confused.

"I saw the candle going again and decided to stop by." He says immediately. It's still cold, but his face is much less irritated by it without precipitation.

"Are you...on a walk?"

"Something like that!" He says leaning into the window, giving no concern over how close he gets to you or the burning candle he almost knocks over. It'd be silly to say you didn't have a crush on him, especially with his constant morning attention and how his smile seemed to light up your room more than your candle ever could.

His eyes go to the book you're reading once again. This time the cover reads Hamlet. When he meets your eyes again, you let out a breath you'd been holding.

"This one is a tragedy, so you might not like it as much." It's more than you've ever said about one of the books before.

"Do you like it?" He asks, gray eyes dancing between looking at your bedhead and the pretty eyes that caught his attention the first time he saw you through the window.

"I do."

"I'll give it a try." He shows a softer smile, less thousand-watt and more warm sunny day. You're not sure if he can tell just how breathless it makes you when he does that. Surely he has to know. The thought of him smiling like that makes your heart twist in an unpleasant way, but you'll be damned if you ever let that monster win against showing him nothing but the smile you return to him.

The one morning you wish he'd come, he doesn't. The dread you feel lays heavy like a rock in your throat as the moving van comes that afternoon, dragging you away from your window. Before you leave, you look from the outside where he'd stand, seeing from his point of view what it looked like sans burning candle. Surely it must look more comforting with the flame and its golden halo.

When you think about him coming back to the dark empty frame, no longer allowed access, the tears you thought would be so easy to hold back fall painfully. The bookmark you lay out on the windowsill that your parents bought you as a birthday present sits limp and dead, and you wonder if it'll blow away before he finds it.

It does not blow away before he finds it, luckily. The unlucky thing is that you're gone. He's been kept away by a fever he didn't think would get worse after the first day. Try as he might've to meet you, the room spun, and he quickly and often became accustomed to the toilet those three days he was bedridden. The bookmark had small pressed petals and a pink tassel to match them. He holds it tight, looking at the window and feeling like it was a closed door.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

When you move back to your hometown, you're well out of high school. The town has changed for the better as you walk through, seeing the community flourish with potted plants in front of stores no longer kicked and smashed, and kids walking together, no nervous glances to the alleyways anymore. You've got an inkling as to who's responsible for the change, but you brush aside thoughts of him even now, the nostalgia keeping you from reading any books you'd shared back then. You'd learned fast back then that rereading them only caused stormy waves to wash over you, soaking you in a delicate sadness.

There are plenty of books in the world. A few are off limits. If you saw him, though, would it allow you to read them again, the way you so desperately wish to? Sometimes you wonder if it's the books you miss or the interest Umemiya gave to both you and the pages.

You buy your old house from your parents, who never got around to selling it. It's run down and dusty, and the rooms are the same as ever. You can't bring yourself to take any room but your own from back then, setting it up differently except for the desk against the window.

The old scentless candle is now replaced with a sweet lemon one that you allow to burn while the window stays open well into the later evening. The lack of scent back then was only due to your parents who weren't pleased with your staying up past bedtime, hours into the next morning, and then sleeping when you got home from school until you started the cycle once more.

The house feels better now that you've got it clean, at least. There are carpets to rip out, and leaks to check. The backyard is overgrown, and the light in the shed refuses to work, but this is home. It feels more like home than the house you'd moved to all those years ago.

The next day, you walk back to your house from the library with a stack of three books nestled close to your chest. You can't help your eyes flickering to the large figure making his way to the door you've just come out of, and when you hold it for him, you're more sure than ever.

"Umemiya Hajime, is that you?" you ask, voice a little more enthused than you'd wanted it to be. He looks once, then to the door before he double takes. You can see the cogs turning in his mind, with the cutest pout you didn't know a grown man could make. Your name falls from his mouth like a question. "The one and only," you say, and your smile turns fond, remembering just how much tinier he used to be. You were always taller than him, at least from your seat at the desk, but now he towers above you.

"It's really you," he breathes for a moment, looking at the differences and picking them out easily. He feels like it was just yesterday that he leaned too close to your candle, singeing the end of his scarf by accident. He remembers the look of panic when you realized he was on fire and started smacking at him with your book. You'd ended up having to buy that one from the library due to the soot and small scorches to the cover from your rescue. He still has it on a shelf in his room, insisting he'd pay you back, but you said it'd be a late Christmas present despite it being closer to Valentine's day than anything. When he brought it up back then, you'd waved it off, stuttering something about how it was more about intention than actual calendar dates.

"Are you visiting?" He asks, not having heard that you were around from anyone, but you always were a bit more introverted.

"I bought my old house and moved back actually. There was a job with a 20-minute commute from here, so I figured it'd be great to be somewhere familiar. I didn't know Makochi changed this much." He sees the crinkle of your eyes and the smile you throw to him when you say the last sentence, knowing you've always been fully aware of his dreams. Seeing that was worth more than any praise. The look was praise itself, maybe, given how it filled his chest with a warmth that had him laying a hand there as his fingers played with the neck of his shirt as he tried hard not to fist the fabric.

"If I'd known, I would've stopped by sooner."

"You know now, so stop by whenever you want," you laugh, because years ago, he would never have been shy about it. The book you see he's holding has something pink attached. A memory surfaces, spanning over years of living in a separate, different place, only to settle right where a story ended. At least you thought it had ended, but maybe you'll have to crack it open again just to be sure.

"This time, you can come in through the door."  You walk off with a wave, thinking about lighting that lemon scented candle again when you get home. You let it burn long enough last time for the memory to shape the wax into a nice, even pool, which will help the wick burn slow and steady once you relight it.

[blingblong55]

Somebody to you-Simon "Ghost" Riley

Based on a request: Hear me out … 141 gets a medic. Ghost gets injured BAD, and considering his shitty childhood (if ykyk) he's lowkey scared because he likely never saw a GP. He's always dealt with the injuries on his own. Also the medic's nickname for him is 'the grim reaper' lol ---- GN!Reader, medic!reader, platonic!relationship, trauma!medic ---- A/N: for me "Grim" is the name used for all my GN, M and F Readers, which is why instead of Ghost saying "Grim reaper" he just says "Grim"...just to clarify

Ghost was always the one to treat his minor injuries when alone, and if it was something serious he would let a doctor help him. When 141 became a known group amongst base's Price was advised to get a medic, one that would know their medical history, know how to treat them and know how to deal with the lieutenant himself. Laswell recommended you, a young medic with expertise in trauma medicine.

The first time you met with the task force, you were told to run the medical centre on base. Price, Gaz and Soap were fine but Ghost sustained a gunshot wound to his abdomen and it seemed critical. "Get the doc, Price," Ghost said through gritted teeth. After one long run to Ghost room and an hour-long trying to get the bullet and close the one later, he shook your hand. He didn't want to be medicated but to Price's recommendation, he accepted morphine.

As the assigned medic to the team, you became close to them, except Ghost, who gave you tough love. Tough love in the definition of Ghost that is.

At around two in the morning, you walk to his room, checking his vitals and ensuring he is comfortable. "Doc-"

"Grim reaper, that's my call sign," you smile and he nods.

"What a shite name for a medic," a low chuckle escaped his lips. "I'll call you Grim," he continues. You nod, "So, how are ya feeling, Ghost?"

"Shit. what else would I feel?"

"Discomfort, pain, embarrassment-"

"I don't ever feel embarrassed."

"I heard Ghost never gets any major injuries, I'd say this day should be the first in your books and mine."

He shakes his head, "Y'ain't a good doc if you shit talk your patients, Grim."

"Who says I shit talk my patients?"

After months that turned into three years of working with 141, Ghost grew closer to you. If he went on a mission that had to be far from base, you went along with him to the closest base possible. "Get the doc," became an everyday sentence. No longer did he hide his minor injuries. One scratch, he called you. "Seriously, for this little thing?" you'd ask and he would nod. "What if it gets infected? Hm? Will you not care if your favourite lieutenant gets an infected injury and can't work? I mean, what a shit friend you are mate." He was like an annoying brother.

You did do your hair that morning? He would ruffle it, make it messy and then make you do push-ups for not wearing your uniform properly. One loose strand from your hair and he would shake his head. "Y'my favourite, Grim but that hair gets you in trouble." "Mate, you just messed it up!" "Now now, don't lie, no need for lies 'ere," a muted laugh as he noticed your annoyed look.

Watching him train was torture for both of you. "How was that?" Ghost would ask about his aim and you would shake your head. "You could've done better, y'er shit at this." If he messes with your job, why can't you mess with his? "Then shoot the damn thing yourself!" "Now now, no need to pout, Ghosty-" "Grim," he warns and you laugh.

You were brutally honest with him, something others didn't dare do with him. This was all because you knew him under that mask. In the field, you knew Ghost and on base, you knew Simon.

There was one time a close call, he lost so much blood and everyone was telling him he would be okay. One look at you and you sigh. "You die, I'll tell 'em about your secret favourite movie genre," you whisper in his ear and he smiles. "Then find this bloody bullet."

Time and time again, everyone saw him as the guard dog to the sweet medic and vice versa. You and him were a pair of idiots when late at night he would smoke with you, and tell the worst of jokes.

It was nice, to be somebody to someone. The best friend to a medic with a scary name like 'Grim Reaper'. He wouldn't complain. Ghost and the Grim Reaper, fighting enemies and injuries. He was somebody to you and at the end of the day when his body ached, it was all worth it.

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[pigfacedbitch]

It's A Trap!

summary : Prince Arthur uses reader to lure Merlin out whenever he is hiding from him.

word count : 0.5k

type : imagines

pairing/s involved : Merlin x Reader (?)

warning/s : none. just Merlin pining over reader and Arthur being an ass.

here is my masterlist!

Note : I thought of this when I watched the clip where Arthur is looking for Merlin and he was hiding behind the door. 😂 It was a one shot before and I heavily edited it too.

There is no denying that Prince's Arthur's manservant is in love with (Y/N), a noble lady from one of the most prestigious houses in Camelot.

Everyone, even Arthur himself, knows it. And that's saying something. 🫢😂

From the way Merlin would stare at you with heart in his eyes, how he would follow you everywhere like a dog, or his ears pick up whenever he hears your name.

Gaius almost wants to take a leaf out of Van Gogh's book and tear off his own ears because Merlin wouldn't shut up about you. He also writes about you in his letters for Hunith.

Now, does Arthur take advantage of it? Of course, he does. Like,"Do you know Lady (Y/N) would be there?" or "If you fetch flowers for Gwen, you could also get some for your lady love."

The epitome of the statement, however, is making you his trap. Confused? I'll explain further later.

"Merlin?! Where are you?!"

It's very common for the palace staff to hear the prince of Camelot blaringly calling out to his manservant. Although some people catch Merlin scurrying away from him or has an idea of his whereabouts, no one bothers to tell Arthur anything.

After all, it's completely understandable and why many servants can empathize. As admirable and honorable the prince is, he can be a handful at times.

That's where you come in.

Whenever Arthur has given up searching for Merlin, he would search for you instead.

He often finds you in the gardens with the other noble ladies, helping some servants with menial tasks, or having tea with Morgana and Gwen. Uther enjoys your company too, making the usual stoic ruler laugh and gossip.

"May I excuse Lady (Y/N)? I need her assistance with something."

"Is it Merlin again?"

"...Yes."

You would go to Gaius' chambers, the kitchens, servant's quarters, or anywhere Merlin could've gone to. Then, you would tell anyone that you're looking for him to speak about personal matters and you'll be waiting for him with a place of your choice.

Arthur would wait with you, but he's hiding where Merlin can't see him.

Why do you continue helping the royal prat? It's because you find it funny.

You're also curious, thinking how long will it take Merlin to stop seeking you out because most of the time it's just one of Arthur's traps.

The prince's knights bet on it. Gwaine and Leon are winning— saying how Merlin will never learn.

It's true, he doesn't. I guess love does make you an idiot.

Merlin always approaches you with a beaming grin on his face and blushed cheeks, acting like a lovesick school boy.

"My lady, you were looking for me?"

"Well you see..."

Arthur would wait for Merlin to get closer before grabbing the manservant in his clutches.

"Here you are, you idiot!"

Sometimes Merlin would free himself and run, sometimes he doesn't and Arthur would drag him away while warning him of possible punishments.

But he never misses the chance to look back and give you the most charming smile anyone has ever graced you with.

"Merlin really loves you, doesn't he?" You hear Gwen beside you, linking your arm with hers. Nervous and worried, you reply—

"Yes. I just hope that I get to tell Merlin that I share his affections. But Arthur is always with him."

[gothic-aesthetic-gal]

Old Scars (Part 2)

Ledger!joker x fem!reader

Fem!reader is kidnapped by the joker and his henchmen while just trying to get a moment's reprieve from her boring, soul-destroying job pt 2✨️

Tw: I mean, we all saw TDK, right? I'd say this is on the same level/rating. Kidnapping, violence, threat of murder/injury mentions of minor characters (not J) being misogynist/threatening SA, reference to past traumatic injury. Beyond this i'm not sure, i'll update these when I write more.

🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏

Part 2:

Gothamites were already in a near-constant state of hypervigilance, a kind of ptsd that came with living in the city. After the most recent bout of escalating crimes, from both the mob and this 'joker', everyone was in a state of near paranoia. No one trusted their fellow man.

The joker's men offloaded what seemed like almost an entire clip as soon as we hit the sidewalk. The street erupted into chaos around us. People screamed and ducked out of sight. A cyclist crashed into the back of a car at the stoplight as he looked around for the source of the noise. A woman ran down the sidewalk with her child strapped into its buggy, practically ramming it into other panicked pedestrians as she fled. People pushed and shoved one another to fight their way indoors to take cover. Workmen on the corner ditched their tools and booked it in the opposite direction.

"We can keep her company in the back, boss," he offered, and my stomach knotted istelf at the thought of exactly what kind of company he had in mind.

Of course, the psychopath leading me by my hands through all of this drank it in. He revelled in the destruction which seemed to orbit him. Traffic swerved around us as I was half dragged across the street to their van. My bare feet were grazed and dirtied by the time his men threw open the back doors. They tossed the duffle bags inside and clambered in after them, one of them grabbing for my arms.

The joker's voice dipped down low, into a kind of growl.

For a moment I thought about trying to make a break for it. You should never go to the second location, that's what they say about kidnapping. As though he had read my mind, he placed a heavy hand on my shoulder and his dark eyes fell on me.

"No, she's riding shotgun, not in the back with the dogs," he slammed the doors on them before anyone could respond to his insult.

"Don't even think about trying to run," he leaned in close enough to whisper the rest of what he had to say directly into my ear, "you wouldn't make it, and it would be such a disappointment to have to shoot you."

Defeatedly, I climbed into the passenger seat and he darted round to the drivers side. This had to be a new record, even for the GCPD, for world's slowest police response. The sound of oncoming sirens was only just now beginning to get near enough to be noticeable.

He pulled back again, his twisted features taking on an exagerratedly pained look. Everytime I saw his face I felt physically sick. It wasn't his scars, of course, but the nightmarish paint, streaked and smeared across his face, and the way it moved and contorted into all kinds of uncanny shapes as he spoke.

"That's our cue to go!" He exclaimed, erupting into one of his fits of laughter as we accelerated down the now eerily empty street.

"You should put your seatbelt on, doll," he grinned. reaching a hand out toward me.

He was silent for a moment, shooting me a glance or two to the side. He seemed to be a little taken back by my behaviour, and it was as though I could see him recalculating.

Without thinking, I instinctively slapped it away. Immediately, I froze for a second, terrified what his reaction would be. I expected to be struck.

Shaking, and with considerable difficulty, given that my hands were still taped together at the wrist, I fastened my own belt. We rolled down the entrance ramp and into the subterranean road network. The joker seemed to be completely unfased as a line of cop cars tore past us going in the opposite direction, sirens blaring and blue lights strobing by.

"Okay, but it's your funeral," he shrugged as we blew another stop light and veered sharply left onto main avenue, headed for the road tunnels.

He tapped the fingers of one hand on the steering wheel and was humming some unintelligible tune under his breath as we pulled into a particularly rough looking, even by my standards, district of downtown. I felt like I was having an out of body experience, or some kind of fever dream. The van swerved round several corners as the city lights passed by in a blur and my heart lurched around in my chest - I felt like it was strung up with bungee cord. Finally as we rolled through an abandoned looking neighbourhood, he was very heavy on the brakes and we jolted to a stop in a grimy looking alleyway.

I had only just stashed it when I was unceremoniously dragged out of the passenger seat, with both my feet immediately landing in a murky puddle. The rain drizzled down, illuminated by the single flickering streetlight above us. Two of the men quickly got into the front of the van and drove their haul away, likely to somewhere like the docks for safe keeping until the buzz and police interest died down.

As he got out, he took a moment to knock his first against the side of the van, signalling that it was clear for his men to offload. In this briefest of moments, he didn't have eyes on me and I frantically looked around me for anything of use to me. I grabbed a ballpoint pen from the dashboard and hurriedly stuffed it into my dress. Glancing down I caught sight of a screwdriver in the footwell. Well it certainly wouldn't be a bad idea to have that hidden on me, so I managed to grab it and stuff it down into the half loosened corset.

Again, I weighed up my chances of running from them. The odds weren't in my favour - we were in a dead part of town, in the dark, and I had no idea where I'd go for help. Plus, my hands were still taped and I was in a ridiculous dress. The joker practically barked his orders at the remaining men and they scattered to the four winds, dispatched to do god only knows what.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He asked, in a kind of stage whisper.

Part of me was relieved that they were gone: I was, by definition, no longer outnumbered, but the realisation that I was now alone with the man who had so recently threatened to bring an entire city to a standstill was a horrifying prospect. A man with a total disregard for human life on the whole, a man who had shot dead one of his own men on a whim not even an hour ago. I shuddered a little.

My face betrayed my panic.

"What are you going to do to me?"

He seemed to find this very funny, erupting into laughter so intense that he bent double for a moment. I felt a lump rise in my throat.

As suddenly as it started, his laughter abruptly stopped and he straightened up with a much flatter expression.

Again, I felt like this was some kind of sick joke that was lost on me.

"I'm not going to do anything to you".

"Then why the fuck am I here?" I gestured wildly around me at the alleyway, "why am I here in this ridiculous dress and no shoes, in some shady back-alley!"

He cocked his head to the side.

"You tell me, doll, 'cause my men didn't take your shoes."

His gestures seemed to be wordlessly saying "you know i'm right!".

The familiar clack of the switchblade suddenly commanded my full attention. The joker shifted forward and placed the blade up to my throat. He didn't say anything but I understood well enough what he was saying. Don't get comfortable: I can kill you at any point. On a whim, like his man who was left face down in a pool of his own blood on the marble tiles.

I shook my head, almost hoping the action would clear it and none of this would be real. I was shivering from the cold and rain. The dress was off-the-shoulder, and my feet were still submerged in icy water. I started to worry that hypothermia or treading on a rusty nail and getting tetanus might kill me before the man in front of me got around to it.

My eyes met his own, and I couldn't help but wonder how few people had seen him this close up and lived to tell the tale. He clamped his free hand onto my forearm and began to pull me to a fire escape ladder mid-way down the alley. It didn't quite reach all the way to the floor, the last rung being a couple feet above the ground. His grip on my arm was so foreceful that it hurt.

When we reached the ladder he put the knife between his teeth, clambered up and offered a hand to pull me up. This day was so totally fucked up.

I thought again about running, but I didn't think i'd make it out of the alley before he caught me, so reluctantly I took his outstretched hand. He was stronger than you might have expected, and managed to lift me up far enough that I could get my feet on the start of the ladder. The bars were slippery from the rain and I tried not to look down as we climbed, struggling against the dress as I did so. We came up to a sort of balcony window two floors up, and he swung up the old sash and gestured for me to climb through. I did it as quickly as possible, not being at all comfortable with the idea of my back being to him while he still had the knife. I landed on my knees on the wood floor and cursed as I scrambled to my feet again.

I turned around to see him inside and sliding the window back down. Suddenly I felt so stupid for not trying to run; now I was trapped here instead.

"You'll, uh, have to excuse the state of the place. You see, I don't usually have guests," he said, gesturing to the apartment as he flicked on the lightswitch.

Again we were back to talking as though he hadn't just held a knife to my throat just moments ago. I shook my head in silent disbelief.

"Something amusing to you?" Asked my captor as he paced by the window.

I looked around me at the half-abandoned apartment. Suddenly, my own place didn't seem so bad, though it wasn't such a massive step down that they were totally incomparible - no, if anything it made me question why I was paying rent if this was what was on offer for free. The main difference was upkeep, and maybe some personal items. I started to think this place could be quite nice if it was cleaned up and decorated and laughed a little to myself.

I abruptly stopped.

"Oh, er, I was just thinking I miss my shitty apartment," I stammered out.

"So, you've brought me here. What do you - what is your plan?" I said shakily, shivering from the cold and still wired with anxiety.

He said nothing, but placed the open knife on the table and dropped down onto the beaten up couch.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Plan? Do I really look like a guy with a plan?" He asked, spreading both arms out against the back of the couch.

"Well, you say that... but I've seen the news. All of that takes planning. A lot of planning actually..." I began.

I shifted anxiously, as part of me wondered if I should make a grab for the knife on the table... but then it occurred to me that he had probably left it there deliberately. Was he testing me? Didn't he just love to see what desperate people would do? That was his M.O. if the recent events were anything to go by. What would I even do if I did grab it, was I really going to stab him? He'd see it coming from a mile off even if I had the guts to follow through.

"Yes, you do some things on a whim, like shooting that guy earlier, or bringing me here... but that heist took planning and preparation."

He cocked his head to the side, a glint in his dark eyes again. Unsettled by his silence, I continued.

"You're quite perceptive, aren't you?" He hummed.

A sly kind of smile spread itself across his face, which told me I was right.

"I think, people underestimate me. When so many ignore you or... don't want to look at you, you can see things from the outside. You see the things that they miss," I thought aloud.

"Tell me, do you find it hard to look at me?" He probed, approaching me.

He made another kind of affirmative hum, and stood up again.

"Yes," I murmured, struggling to look him in the eyes as he stopped about an arms length from me.

I swallowed, my throat feeling dry. What was the use in lying? He and I had just revealed that we would both know it if I did.

"And, why is that?"

He reached out a hand to touch my rain soaked hair, tucking it behind my shoulder.

"Because, you -" I was struggling for the words, feeling as though this was an interrogation and the light was blinding, burning hot on me - only he was the light.

He leaned in close, close enough that I could have touched his face. I tried to force myself to look directly at him, not wanting to give in.

"Because I look like this?" He gestured to his face, but I realised, consciously or not his hand hovered over his scars specifically.

"Isn't that a little hypocritical?" He growled sounding almost disappointed.

He seemed taken aback by this.

"I think you've misjudged me again," I said hurriedly in protest.

"Oh?" He mused, placing a heavy hand on the crook of my neck.

"I find it hard to look at your face because of the makeup. Which is part of why you wear it, so you shouldn't be surprised by that. I think... i think part of you would prefer it if it really was the scars I found ugly. But you're wrong..." I couldn't stop myself from shaking so hard that it was difficult to speak.

I watched his face as he seemed to be turning over my words in his own mind, weighing up whether to believe me. Again spurred on by his silence I continued.

"Of course, everyone has the initial shock and the gut reaction of repulsion when they see my scars. That is just human nature and the way society has conditioned us, even the most polite, the kindest people. It's a sub-conscious reflex. So, what i'm saying is, that first split second, maybe, I was afraid because of them, I'll grant you that much... but you then also have to admit you had tge same reaction to mine. I saw it."

A strange glimmer of something akin to... affection found its way into his features. I didn't know what to make of it.

He shook his head.

"Am I wrong?" I pressed, anxiously.

"No".

I sighed a little in relief.

He pulled me forwards and planted a rough kiss on my forehead, much to my horror, but thankfully that was all it was. He drew back looking down at me as I continued to shiver, dripping wet, bare footed and brusied. My eye was stinging from both my injury and my mascara running down my face. It was as though he seemed to actually be more tuned in to my presence now, and he astonished me still further by taking off his long coat and placing it around my icy shoulders.

"You," he wagged a finger at me, "I knew there was something special about you. That's why I brought you here... you're..." his eyes combed over my face as he searched for the words," you are magnificent."

Next part below:

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

My apologies again,oh god I'm being annoying-

Can you give me a nahoya (himself) headcanons for my new year gift?:)))))

( now is new year in Iran.)

Yeah thats no problem and happy new year to you!

Takes his parents dog for walks often, though he loves playing with him the most

Is actually very proud of how fast he is

Smiley once got expelled for threatening a teacher (he didn't exactly do it though, he was talking to the homework not his teacher when he said "I'll kill you"

Sometimes he'll make a little pose/ face when he passes by a mirror

He really likes warm things, especially warm people. Will fall asleep against someone if they're comfortable.

Smiley will sometimes play with angrys hair when bored

Smiley makes sound effects while messing around with his plastic models, like whooshing noises.

The first time his partner kisses him, his eyes open fully in shock. They get even wider after his partner compliments them.

He is the biggest supporter of Angry's band and threatens people if they say anything bad about it.

Sometimes if someone asks Smiley where Angry is he'll just reply with "who's Angry?" as a way to mess with them.

Smiley actually likes romantic films and books but will never tell anyone.

He will threaten to kill the rain if it gets his hair wet (angry doesn't blame him).

Gets his own dog in the future

Has spent a lot of time watching others and reading about others flirting, practices by himself too. 

Wakes up early a lot and is usually energetic in the mornings

Doesn't like needles, it's why he doesn't want a tattoo (his earring was hard enough to get through)

Becomes good friends with South in the good timeline

Get's embarrassed when people give him gifts

Likes to give his partner surprise hugs from behind. He likes making them jump and he gets to hold them close so it's a win win.

Angry sometimes annoys him with how close he always is, although Smiley loves him, he also needs his alone time.

Loves his nickname

One of his favourite parts of a fight is when his opponents get confused because of his constant grin. It sometimes even angers them which he loves even more.

If he knew Kakucho had let him win then he would've immediately demanded a rematch 

One time Chifuyu was talking about a specific manga and Smiley made a comment that only someone who knows the manga would say. Chifuyu got really excited thinking he'd found another fan but Smiley denied knowing it (he was blushing the whole time though since he nearly got caught)

Takes special pride when people compliment his cooking

Would happily wear matching jewellery with his partner.

[kaurwreck]

I think relevant to understanding why Atsushi is the protagonist is the recognition that Kafka Asagiri, broadly, did what Nakajima Atsushi did, which is break from years of reluctantly adhering to what was known, conventional, and assured to instead face his deeply held insecurities and dedicate himself entirely to writing.

Except, while Nakajima Atsushi burst into the literary scene with verve and brilliance, he was almost immediately killed by his chronic illness. The cosmic cruelty of it is tragic.

Kafka Asagiri, meanwhile, made his leap at a younger age than Atsushi, and survived his first few months. Better yet, he's survived his first 12 years. He began Bungou Stray Dogs at the age of 28 (only a few years earlier than Nakajima Atsushi), so he's now 40 years old. He's still writing, having outlived many of the literary icons he references, including Dazai Osamu, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Kunikida Doppo, Nakajima Atsushi, Higuchi Ichiyo, Nakahara Chuuya, and Tachihara Michizo.

He has dedicated the outset of his career to the authors whose lives reverberated far beyond their years, and I have a suspicion that the author he feels ringing the loudest in his own ears might be Nakajima Atsushi. In part, because Nakajima Atsushi was right, Nakajima Atsushi sought meaning where there wasn't any and found profundity where others couldn't. He was anxious and grappled with low self-esteem, but he didn't flinch at the same shadows as many of his brasher contemporaries and predecessors did.

He seemed to shrug away, even, the calamitous events unfolding relentlessly around him for how focused he was on matters such as his flowers and the books he read. Once, he even disregarded an air raid overhead, utterly unbothered while his companion dug a shelter under the kitchen floor. When his companion irritably asked Nakajima what he wanted to do in such an emergency, Nakajima calmy replied, "I'll die with a book in my hand." Later, the same companion described Nakajima's words as having an inimitable power and clarity, as if all emotions had already been reckoned with and then set aside. (This is the same Nakajima Atsushi known to cry if his flowers were cut, for reference.) Which is to say, he clearly knew something others didn't, for better or worse.

That he died young did little to deride the truth of he'd discovered, and Kafka Asagiri choosing that truth as his means for cradling and honoring the truths of the other authors too is a fiercly ardent love letter to their lives and legacies. But it's also the only way he could, I think, encompass the litany of eras, lives, cultural contexts, and bodies of work that he does. Bungo Stray Dogs can spill with anachronism and absurdity and nonsensical mechanics and deus ex machinas and bombastic personalities because the thoroughline has the same unperturbed focus, brilliance, compassion, verve, timidity, obliviousness, insensitivity, fragility, intensity, frivilousness, and implacable clarity as Nakajima Atsushi.

(Asagiri might too, considering the sheer breadth of what he's written and closely overseen in only 12 years, but also, the obnoxiousness of its substance.)

[mayuichi]

“... I didn't meant what I said.„

Saigiku Jouno x Reader Warning: unhealthy relationship behaviors (sorry I can't see Jouno be capable to have a healthy relationship with anybody)

Note : I skipped yesterday in my everyday fic because of some sickness, so I have to post twice today woohoo! I really hope I'll feel better soon ughhh

Art from the anime.

Despite the blanket covering your lap, you keep shivering from the cool air. Autumn slowly letting place to winter, December becoming colder day by day. It was one of the snowy days today. Those days you would love to spend home with your boyfriend.

Speaking of which, it was getting late, night already settled down. Yet he still isn't home. It isn't even surprising, he is part of the Hunting Dogs after all. You're used for him to get home extremely late, if just not coming home at all.

Sitting on the sofa, looking at some stupid TV show to pass the time, you're reading a book at the same time. You just want some background noises to not suffocate from the silence. You work too, of course, but your shift finishes at 5pm. It's already been two hours you're trying to kill time.

You have been waiting long enough, you're pretty sure he won't come home anytime soon. Placing down your book and turning the TV off, you make your way to the kitchen. Once again, you'd make food only for yourself. How long has it been since your last meal together ? A bit too long.

Picking each ingredient carefully, you start making yourself dinner, every so often glancing toward the window in case you'd see him come home. While waiting for the cooking to be over, checking from time to time in the oven, you pick your phone.

“I'll lock the front door. Be careful to not wake me up when you'll come home, if you even do. I have to wake up early tomorrow.„

You're pretty sure he won't even read it now. There has always been some ups and downs in between you, but it's been a while since the last good time. You couldn't help but doubt his words again. You sigh, feeling helpless.

Eating alone, you use once more the TV as only company. Does he love me? You question your own mind, knowing damn well it'll only hurt you further. But those questions keep repeating themselves in your mind until the next day.

Even throuhough your shift. You're tensed, so anxious it needs to end. He hasn't answered your last text, and didn't even went home.

Walking home, your head low, you don't want to see anyone. Holding the end of your scarf, you hurry back home. The cold air reddening your nose and ears, your fingers taking a blue tint. You even struggle to open your door, your hands shaking.

Rapidly closing the door behind you, you rub your hands against one another, yearning for some warmth. Without undoing your scarf or jacket, you make your way to the kitchen to make yourself a hot chocolate, only to see a tall figure waiting against the cupboard.

He is facing you, his arms crossed as a smirk adorned his face. “I can feel that you missed me, didn't you ?„ he hums. It isn't truly a question, he already knows the answer. Yet you don't plan on giving him one.

He raises an eyebrow when he hears your steps leaving to the bedroom, where you take off your scarf, jacket and shoes. He follows you close. “Aren't you planning on answering me ? Is it too much to ask to your little self?„

His smirk widens when he feels your heartbeat increase. He absolutely loves the way he can play your emotions like an instrument. So easy to read, and to control. “If you can't even utter a word, then what's the purpose of my presence. I thought you'd jump in my arms. Or perhaps... You don't truly love me ?„

He steps closer and closer, until his slender figure is hovering you, almost pinning you against the wall. Fluttering your eyes shut, anxiety rising in your body, your voice almost breaking as you speak. “I.. should be the one asking you that..„

He huffs in response, unsure of what you are trying to tell him. He brings his fingers under your chin. “Go ahead, word your thoughts then. I am all ears, darling.„

Your breath itchs in your throat. Feeling his soft yet hot breath against your nose, you muttered in a shy voice. “... I know your work asks you a lot of your time but.. You don't even text me...„

You see his expression not faltering even in the slightless. Instead, he just pulls away, sighing in disappointment. “Are you that needy ? Greedy for attention ? You should've known better when you desired to be with me. If you can't keep up, then I might just leave.„

His words sink in your mind. You turn your head away, barely capable to answer. “... I understand...„ it took you all your might to not let your voice break, but he knows better. He knows deep down you're dying from his words.

And even if he feels regret, speaking and admitting them out loud is another thing. He watches as you make your way to the living room, where you snuggle under the blanket and turn the TV on. He has always been cruel, but never going to that extend. Never expressing anything about leaving.

What if he truly does ? Would it make him feel better ? But you, in all that ? Does he think about how you feel ? You endured all his words, and his sadist behavior all the time, for only little to no comforting moment. You just have to handle it. Yet you are at your breaking point.

Drowning your sorrow and pain in that stupid show. It's all you can do if you don't want your mind to make you suffocate. The night quickly arrives, and with that, the cold breeze from the open window too.

Too absorbed into forgetting your aching heart, you don't hear the footsteps making their way to close the window. “Darling,„ his tone surprisingly sweet. “Here. I wouldn't want you to freeze.„

He places a hot chocolate in front of you on the coffee table, sitting down next to you. He doesn't try to touch you in any way though, surely knowing it isn't the time for it. You stare at the gentle treat he gives you.

You hesitantly reach for the cup, feeling its warmth spreading through your hands. You see him pick the TV remote to lower the volume. He lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment.

“... Why do you act so kind suddenly ?„ you breath out, quietly blowing on the hot chocolate before taking a sip. You can hear him gulp. Perhaps he feels remorse now..

“... I didn't meant what I said.„ it's so hard for him to admit he's wrong. It makes you giggle, and you don't hide it, which makes him have a faint blush. He clears his throat, “... Don't laugh like that. It isn't fun.„

“Yet it would've been if I were the one to apologise.„ you sigh, keeping your eyes on that sweet drink he made you. He leans over you, his head almost resting on your shoulder.

“... I promise to make an effort, but please, don't leave yet. I want you to stay. It's better with you.„ it's the first time he shows himself being vulnerable. Yet, everyone has insecurities and weak side, right ? But he doesn't want anyone to see it. You're the only exception.

“If you don't push me to leave again, then... I won't. I love you also for your harsh words, but.. Just, don't make me feel like I'm a burden.„

He presses a gentle kiss on your cheek. You hope he'll change his behavior, but you can't be sure he will. You just allow yourself to doubt. He wraps his arm around your shoulder, rubbing it in a comforting gesture.

“You can't be a burden. You make me have another purpose than just serve for justice. You make me feel alive.„

/ᐠ - ˕ •マ Ⳋ mayuichi's property. do not repost, copy or translate it without permission.

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 5 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Bob was willing to try to be friends with Anna, but he knew his feelings wouldn't go away overnight. The more time he spent around her, the harder it seemed to make that happen. When Bradley and Jake make a suggestion about Bob's dating agenda, Anna doesn't seem crazy about it. And Bob ends up even more confused by her actions than her words. 

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, mentions of cheating, eventually 18+

Length: 5700 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Being friends with Anna was one of the worst things Bob had ever had to do. But being around her while still keeping his distance was better than the alternative, so he had to do it. When she texted him, he responded immediately, and he couldn't stop thinking about how much he'd like to hold her hand.

She was all smiles when he saw her again a few days later. This time, she was the one who invited him out for a cup of coffee on Saturday morning, and he jumped at the chance to go. After cancelling his breakfast plans with Mickey with the promise that he'd be at the bar before Dungeons & Dragons, he hopped in his truck and drove off to meet Anna.

He was early, but she was already there. "Hey, Bob," she said, waving to him from a small table near the back as he approached. She already had two drinks in front of her, and Bob's brow creased in something like annoyance as he made his way to her.

"I was going to pay for your coffee," he said, meeting her brown eyes as he dropped slowly into the empty seat. 

"You paid the other day," she replied, sliding the hot tea a little closer to him. "Plus, you bought me two books."

All Bob could think about as he looked at her tentative smile was the fact that he wanted nothing more than to buy Anna every book she wanted for the rest of her life. Massive anthologies and slim romance novels and poetry collections and autobiographies... he wanted to get her every single one that sparked her interest. He wanted to catch her attention in just the same way literature did. He wanted to be what she curled up in bed with after a long day.

Bob cleared his throat. "Thanks for the tea, but next time I'm paying."

"Deal," she said softly before blowing on her hot coffee with another smile. 

"Great. In that case, we can go out for an expensive lobster dinner," he told her with a little grin. "You already agreed."

Anna looked at him as she took a sip. "Is an expensive lobster dinner something friends would enjoy together?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

Bob's heart started beating a little faster. "I think friends can do whatever they want."

She studied him for a moment before reaching into her tote bag and pulling out a book. "This is for you. It's from my own personal stash, so it's a little worn out, but I thought you might like to borrow it."

When he accepted the dog eared paperback copy of The Remains of the Day, her fingers brushed against his. "Thank you. I'll add it to my list of Dr. Webber recommendations."

She blushed slightly, and her hand went to her cheek as she said, "Dr. Webber. Sometimes I still can't believe I finished my doctorate after putting it on hold for so long."

Bob sipped his tea. "Why did you put it on hold? It's easy to see how much it means to you."

Anna chewed on her lip before she softly said, "I made some bad decisions, but I won't be doing that again. Do you want to split a croissant?" 

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

"So," Jessica said, heaving a deep sigh at lunchtime on Monday. She looked like she had just received some devastating news, and when Anna glanced toward her other friend holding her tie dyed lunchbox, she found a similar expression on her face as well. "It's true? You and Bob are friends?"

"You don't have to say it like that," Anna replied, dropping down onto the bench between the two of them with the weird looking tree behind her. "You were the ones who encouraged me to make a new friend in the first place!"

"We thought you'd snap out of it after like ten minutes alone with him again," Advanced Calculus said as she bit into the pretty lunch that Bradley had clearly packed for her. "Poor Bob."

Anna scuffed the toe of her old, beat up shoe along the concrete in front of her as she sipped her can of ginger ale. "It's not like I'm some amazing option or something," she muttered, remembering how adorable he looked when she handed him her own book for him to borrow. "Bob could do better."

"Anna!" Jessica gasped. "Don't say that about yourself! It's simply not true! You're the best!"

Anna swallowed hard, embarrassment starting to fill her up as tears pricked the backs of her eyes. She wasn't used to being around anyone who said kind words to or about her. The fact that she almost couldn't handle hearing them was making her feel vulnerable. "I just mean... I'm not really emotionally available, so it would be in his best interest to stop returning my crush on him." She was fairly certain she wouldn't be able to stop her own feelings at this point.

The other two women were quiet for a beat, and Anna started to get nervous, but then there was a fancy container of veggies and some sort of dip being held out in front of her. She helped herself to a carrot stick as her friend finally asked, "Are you ready to talk about Kevin?"

She crunched hard into the carrot before saying, "I don't like to talk about cheaters."

Jessica made a disgusted sound and said, "That's probably half of the male population. But... I think it's safe to talk about Bob." Anna groaned, and Jessica quickly added, "Okay, fine, I'll stop now!"

"Kevin cheated on you?" Advanced Calculus said, cutting right to the chase. "What a fucking dick."

"Yeah," Anna whispered, wondering why this lunch meetup was becoming so emotional. "It went on for years, as far as I can tell. I was just too busy working and trying to stay above water to notice at first. He's... still with her. I think." But Anna knew the truth; all Kevin really did was find an upgrade and stick with her. He found another medical doctor with a thriving career, just like himself.

"Men are disgusting," Jessica said ferociously. "I was going through a bit of a rough patch when I met Jake, so keep your head up, okay? There are some good ones out there."

Anna snorted. "I think the two of you found the only good ones left."

"Nah. But I do think they might all be in the Navy."

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

Bob was surprised on Friday night when he got to the Hard Deck a little later than usual and found Anna there. The deep copper of her hair was illuminated by the lights above the pool table as she stood next to Jake, sipping a glass of ginger ale. She looked like she belonged here now, even though it was just her second visit, and when Bob got closer, he could hear her asking Jake about him.

"So everyone has a call sign? In the entirety of the United States Navy?"

"No," Jake replied with a chuckle. "Not everyone."

"And your call sign is Hangman? And Bradley's is Rooster?"

"That's right."

"What's Bob's?"

Bob smiled softly, enjoying the fact that she was asking about him without realizing he was standing right there. "It's just Bob," he said, making her jump a bit in surprise as she looked up and found him immediately with her dark eyes.

She examined him with a soft smile on her lips. "Just Bob. I think I like that better. I'd probably want to be just Anna if I had a call sign. Do you want to play pool with me? We can lose to Jessica together."

It took Bob a second to put everything together in his mind. Anna wasn't making fun of his call sign where everyone else usually would have been. And now she was holding out a pool cue toward him with a hopeful look on her face that was slowly starting to fade away as he stood motionless. "Yes," he finally said, reaching out to take it from her. Just like at the coffee shop, their fingers met briefly, and Bob just wanted to hold her hand in the worst way. And maybe try to count her freckles. And maybe kiss her. He cleared his throat. "I'd love to play. Losing to Jessica is so much fun."

"It's everyone's favorite way to spend a Friday night!" Jessica replied, brandishing a Sam Adams in one hand and a blue chalk cube in the other.

"No way, Smart Girl. I like what comes later even better," Jake replied, wrapping his arm around her waist, and Bob had to look away as he kissed his girlfriend. Jake had been talking about engagement rings in the locker room the other day, and Bob was sworn to secrecy. 

He promised not to say anything. He wouldn't. The two of them belonged together, and Bob could tell how happy they would be, but he still felt nauseatingly jealous of their love. Especially when Jessica kissed Jake and whispered, "Save the dirty talk for later."

Bob's eyes found Anna's as she got the table set up. He was going to work really hard at this friendship thing, but someday when he inevitably saw her with another guy's arms wrapped around her, hugging her, he was certain he was going to have to excuse himself from her presence. But for now, all he could do was look at her.

"Do I have something on my face?" she asked, touching her cheek after she set the eight ball in place.

"Just a cute smile," Bob replied, and then he had the distinct desire to disappear as said smile grew a little bigger before she pressed her lips together. Clearly he couldn't be trusted not to make things weird. "Let's play."

They were about five minutes into the game when Bradley and his wife walked over, and Bob was really enjoying the way Anna accidentally bumped into him. Twice. But then he was reminded of the other topic of conversation that had been brought up in the locker room at work.

"Hey Bob, you still thinking about downloading a dating app?" Bradley asked him casually. Anna fumbled and dropped the blue chalk that she was holding. Bob picked it up and handed it to her, but she didn't even meet his eyes when she took it.

"Uh, I might," he replied, watching Anna miss her shot at the nine ball by a mile. Bradley and Jake were the ones who mentioned the app to begin with, and when Bob showed the slightest bit of interest, they ran with the idea. "Still undecided."

"I can help you make a profile," Bradley said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You'll just have to let me know if you'd rather find your soulmate or be knee deep in as much pussy as you can handle."

Bob felt his cheeks warm up as Bradley's wife smacked him on the chest and told him to be quiet. When he chanced a glance at Anna, she was already looking at him with wide, brown eyes. Truthfully, Bob kind of wanted to find his soulmate and be getting a lot of pussy, but just from that one person. 

"Can we talk about this later?" he muttered, sinking the nine ball for his team when it was finally his turn.

"Sure. We can download it later," Bradley said with a smirk that didn't quite sit well with Bob. That wasn't what he meant at all, and now Anna wasn't even looking at him. It took him bringing her another glass of ginger ale for her to even acknowledge he was still there.

"Thanks," she said softly as she took it from him. They'd been trounced by Jess and Jake, and now they were standing off to the side together. "You know," she added, "if you download a dating app, you'd probably get a lot more attention if you put up a photo of you in your uniform. Or one of those jumpsuit things."

Bob shook his head and looked at his feet. "You'd swipe right?" he asked before he could think better of it.

Anna laughed and said, "Honestly? I'd swipe right if you were wearing your Dungeons & Dragons shirt."

Once again, he didn't know what to say. She only wanted to be friends with him, but this was the second time she told him she found him attractive. "It's called a flight suit," he said, waiting for her to meet his eyes. When she did, she looked confused. "Not a jumpsuit."

She smiled again at the clarification. "Well, whatever they are, I like them. And the call signs. Especially yours. You seem like you don't need a lot of fancy stuff. Just Bob."

"Just Bob," he whispered. He didn't need anything fancy, but right now he sure wanted Anna.

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

On Tuesday at lunchtime, Anna was the first one to the bench, and she had to sit there awkwardly and hope that her friends showed up. She could be back in her office, alone, thinking about what she wanted to do in her next Feminist Literature lecture. She was about to text them when she glanced up as Jessica's glasses reflected the bright sunlight, and both women were heading her way. Then she saw her beat up copy of The Remains of the Day held in the same hand that was holding the tie dye lunchbox.

"This is from Bob. He gave it to Bradley to give to me, and I had to promise to give it to you."

Anna took the book from her and whispered, "Thank you." Had Bob already finished reading another of her recommended books? Was he really this perfect? That's when she noticed there was a slip of paper peeking out between the pages, and she barely heard her two friends talking as she pulled it out.

Anna,

You really need a bookmark. All of the dog eared pages made me feel terrible for this poor book as I read it. I enjoyed the story immensely, but seriously, you need to stop folding the pages over to save your spot. Unless it was your intention to bring an element of horror into the tale? If so, well done. Also, now that I have your attention, do you feel like grabbing a drink on Thursday evening? We could go to Chippy's and eat some of the best peanuts in the world. Just text me and let me know.

Bob

She whimpered softly. Everything this man did delighted her. She wanted to recommend a dozen more books to him if it meant she could have one more little handwritten note to tuck away. Or to use as the bookmark that would keep him from stressing out about the pages.

"Earth to Anna," Jessica said, waving a hand in front of her face and making her finally look up. 

"Bob asked me to go to Chippy's with him," she blurted out, holding the note tight in her hand. 

"Oh!" Advanced Calculus gasped. "You should go!"

"No," Advanced Physics whined. "That was supposed to be a girls' night outing!"

"I want her to go. It's the only thing that will get Bob off the dating app. I can't believe Bradley brought that up in the first place. He doesn't know a damn thing about it."

"I want her to go with us for the first time!"

Anna looked back and forth between the two of them, that familiar whiplash feeling returning as they argued with her in the middle. But in the meantime, she got her phone out and texted Bob.

If we go to Chippy's without Jessica, I think she might have a fit.

Bob must have been on his lunch break as well, because he wrote back a minute later while the two of them were still arguing. 

Bob Floyd: All the more reason to do it, really.

Anna laughed quietly as she told him about her office hours on Thursday, promising to meet him for some life changing peanuts at 7:15. Then she put her phone away and announced, "I'm going with Bob. The three of us can go to Chippy's on a different night."

Jessica looked mildly annoyed while her other friend looked smug and said, "Get him off the dating app. Those women will eat that sweet man alive."

But Anna knew she couldn't and shouldn't even try to do anything about that. Friends were supposed to be supportive of each other, and Bob was her friend. Just her friend. But when she thought about how much attention he was probably getting, it just made her so sad. She could have had that. She could have been the one with his beautiful eyes focused on her while she inhaled his delicious scent.

Maybe she'd just make one quick comment about the app when they were together. "I'll see what I can do."

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

Of course Bob would get dismissed early on Thursday when he had nothing better to do than wait around until it was time to go to Chippy's with Anna. He skipped the locker room shower, opting to head home to get ready instead, and it looked like Jake and Bradley were of a similar mind as they walked out to the parking lot at the same time as him.

"You said you'd share your lasagna recipe," Bradley said, annoyance laced in his voice. "Sugar really likes it."

"I said I would think about it," Jake replied smoothly. "It's not like you need help getting laid. It's not like you're Bob. No offense, Bob."

He just sighed and glared at the blonde. "I don't need help getting laid."

"Sure, pal," Jake replied as he approached his truck. "But I'll give you a free tip anyway. I'm going to go home and shower and pack up dinner. Then I'm going to stop and get some flowers for Jess, because girls like that shit. Then I'm going to her office hours where the combination of a homemade meal and pretty flowers will have her pulling her panties off as soon as I walk in."

"Please," Bob moaned. His stomach turned at the thought of Jessica, who made up a ridiculous voice for her D&D character, removing any article of her clothing. "Please stop. She's my friend."

"So is Anna," Bradley said with a smirk. "Did you download Tinder yet? Or are you going to stop and get some flowers and man up before you go to Chippy's?"

He didn't know how to explain to them that the last thing he wanted to do was push her away, and he was almost certain that a romantic gesture like giving her flowers would do just that. He also wished he hadn't even told them that he and Anna were going to Chippy's together. It was another excuse to see her, sure, but he was convinced she'd really like the peanuts.

"I have it under control," Bob muttered, passing Bradley's Bronco and heading for his own truck. Anna told him she'd made some bad decisions in her life, and he wanted to know more. Maybe going out tonight would be a way for her to open up to him a little bit. He knew from real life as well as some of the books he read that love could be built on solid friendships, but he tried not to tell himself that something like that could work out for him. Friendship was enough. 

"Robert!" Suzanne called from her open front door as he walked up the path. "You're home early."

"Hey, Suzanne. Yeah, got out early today."

"You know what you should do, Robert? You should spend this extra time getting on a dating app."

He paused with his key in the lock of his own front door and listened to the game show that she was watching as the sound filtered outside. "Thanks so much for that amazing idea, Suzanne. Have a great night."

It didn't take him too long to get ready, and while he definitely didn't want to show up at Chippy's with a bouquet of flowers, he came up with another idea. A better idea. And if he could manage to locate Anna's office in the English building, he would meet her there.

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

Anna had one student show up to her office hours, and even then, it was just so he could complain about how they were only reading 'books by girls' in English 522.

"It's Feminist Literature," she explained slowly. "The main themes and topics revolve around equality of the sexes and advocacy for women's rights. The female point of voice is what we are exploring this semester."

"But why is it all chicks? I don't really like these books."

She sighed and said, "Everything has been on the syllabus since the first lecture, and I haven't deviated from it. If you don't think you can handle it, then I suggest your drop the class."

When he finally left, she groaned and put her head down on her desk. Just a few more minutes, and she could go meet Bob. Bob Floyd. The man who read books by authors of every kind. The man who would probably enjoy sitting in one of her lectures. The man of her dreams.

"Fuck you, Kevin," she whispered before picking her head up and fixing her braid. When there was another knock on her door, she jumped in her seat. "Come in!"

And then there he was, pushing the door open and filling up her tiny office with his broad shoulders and handsome features. Bob smiled at her, and she immediately believed everything would be okay forever. "Hi," she whispered, standing up behind her desk, the large piece of furniture the only thing between them now. "Bob."

Then her eyes dipped down as he held out his hand. "These are for you." He was holding a six pack of ginger ale cans, and it was then that the smell of clean soap and hot tea invaded her senses. "An office warming gift."

"You're sweet," she said softly, and he smiled as she accepted the treat from him. "Thanks."

He just shrugged and looked around the room. "Nice place you got here."

Anna laughed. "You don't have to lie about it. You're tall enough that you could touch that wall with your hand and the opposite wall with your foot at the same time," she said, pointing from one side of the space to the other.

"It's still nice," he told her as he adjusted his glasses. "You must have two hundred books in here. And it smells like a library. And bread?"

She nodded and said, "That's because I'm near the cafeteria. You get used to it."

Bob's laughter and genuine smile had her whole body clenching. "Smells better than jet fuel. You ready to go to Chippy's?"

"Yeah." It came out like a whine. This felt like a date. She wanted it to be a date. She wanted to live in an alternate universe where she could feasibly date someone. As she set her ginger ale cans down and picked up her office key and tote bag, she started to make her way to the door. When she stopped, Bob bumped into her, his hands landing on her waist.

"Sorry," he muttered, and he put some space between their bodies immediately.

"It's okay," she replied, pulling the door closed and locking it. Anna couldn't control the thundering of her heart as they walked side by side down the hallway and stepped outside into the cool, evening air. What was she supposed to talk about with her friend Bob when she just kept thinking about his hands on her body? She cleared her throat as they walked quietly down the sidewalk toward the bar. "Did you wear your jumpsuit at work today?"

Bob's smirk made her giggle. "Flight suit, Anna. For someone who has a bunch of friends in the Navy, you could really use a tutorial. And yes, I did wear my flight suit."

She bit her lip and tried to picture him in it. "I liked your khaki uniform with all the pins on it."

His brow scrunched up as he looked at her, leading the way toward Chippy's. "When did you see my service khakis?"

Oh shit. She'd been staring at the selfie he sent from the bookstore so frequently, she just outed herself. "Um. You sent a picture to me. A while ago."

His features smoothed out as he held the bar door open for her to walk past him. "Right." His voice sounded a little deeper as she passed him. "Forgot about that."

She sure hadn't, and she never ever would. Scrambling for something to say as she walked across the sticky floor littered with peanut shells toward a group of students drinking beers, she blurted out, "I thought all Naval uniforms were navy blue."

When he pulled out a stool for her at a high top table, she took a seat. His voice was close to her ear as he said, "Your tutorial begins now. Can't have you embarrassing yourself like this next time you come to the Hard Deck. You want a beer?"

She wasn't much of a drinker, and the last thing she needed was something that would amplify the way her heart felt like it was beating erratically right now, but she simply nodded. Then Bob disappeared, leaving her really wondering what this tutorial might include. She tracked his movements back toward the bar where an older man with a deep scowl on his face started to reach for two pint glasses. Bob pulled his wallet out of his snug pocket, and Anna was too distracted to realize that he was paying for something for her. Again. 

"Damn it," she groaned, realizing how quickly she was slipping tonight. She wanted Bob to explain in great detail everything about the United States Navy while she ate peanuts. She wanted to feed him some and let her fingertips brush his lips. "Stop it." He was returning to the table now, and she watched as two women at another table pointed at him subtly. He was so attractive, and the way he was carrying two full glasses cupped in one big palm left her dizzy.

"Here you go," he said, handing her one of the beers along with a big dish of peanuts. "Best peanuts in San Diego. I swear."

Anna took one and smashed it open as she said, "I'll be the judge of such things." Bob looked really sure of himself as he sat down opposite her, and as soon as she tasted it, she knew he was right. It was roasted to perfection with just the perfect amount of salt. "Oh, god."

"Told you," he replied, reaching into the dish for a few. "But don't tell Penny I said that. I don't want to break her heart."

And that was just thing about Bob. Anna would have believed him if he said he never wanted to break anyone's heart. His fingers brushed against her as they both reached for more peanuts at the same time, but he ended up scooting them a little closer to her. 

"There are some that are navy blue," he said, his eyes bright behind his glasses. "Uniforms, that is."

"I knew it!"

"But we hardly ever wear them," he added with a soft smile. "We wear the white ones even less frequently."

"White ones?" Anna asked as she took a sip of her beer, eyes fixed on Bob's fingers as he worked a peanut out of the shell. She could write poetry about his hands, they were just that graceful and strong looking. He was talking, but she could barely keep up with the conversation, and when she set her beer down, it was half empty. 

"But that's just when I fly with Phoenix," he was saying. "I've been getting tossed around from pilot to pilot recently, which I hate. But my flight suits are what I wear the most, followed by my khaki uniform."

"It looked nice on you," Anna whispered loudly, surprised that she said it out loud. Again. 

"You said that before," Bob replied, his cheeks flushed a delicious shade of pink. Would he feel warm to the touch? Why was it so hot inside Chippy's? Why did Anna agree to come here without the girls?

She wiped her sweaty palms on her pants, wishing she wasn't so awkward. "Why did you study aviation? You seem like you'd have been a spectacular English major."

Bob shrugged. "A free ride to the Naval Academy is prestigious enough that you just don't turn that down. Where did you get your PhD?"

Anna hated answering this question, but she'd be honest with Bob. "I started out at Princeton, but it was expensive, and I decided to use my money for... other things. I finished at a state school. A New Jersey state school."

"But you finished," he said with a smile as she gulped down the rest of her beer in one go. "You've got more letters after your name than I do."

Anna laughed, because he wasn't wrong. "But you've got more letters before your name than I do. Lieutenant Floyd."

"No, I don't," he said easily. "Dr. Webber."

"Shit," she croaked, really feeling the beer now. "You're right. That sounds so badass."

"It is badass," he promised as Anna's head swam with warmth and desire and contentment. He cracked open another peanut, slipping it between his parted lips. She leaned in a little closer, and his eyes went wide at what she said. 

"Did you download a dating app? I don't think you should. The guys don't know what they're talking about, and you don't really need it. You could get anyone."

Bob studied her as she tried to keep her expression neutral, fingers spinning her empty glass around nervously in front of her. "No," he said slowly. "I didn't download an app. If I'm being honest, I think I'm still hung up on the idea of meeting someone and falling for them naturally. Like accidentally bumping into them in a bookstore." Her mouth went dry as he softly said, "That's kind of what I always wanted."

It was her. She was the one he bumped into before they even knew they had mutual friends. She was that girl from the bookstore. Why couldn't she have this? She wanted it, too! And now he thought she didn't. 

"It's okay," he said before finishing off his beer. "We can be friends." He set the glass down, and Anna felt his gaze move from her lips up to her eyes. "You ready to go?"

"Yes," she whispered, slowly reaching for her things. "Thanks for the beer."

Bob shrugged as he helped her down from the stool. "Any excuse to come to Chippy's."

As they walked past the clusters of students on their way toward the door, Anna waved to the bartender. "Does he always look that cranky?"

"Ol' Chippy? Yes. Always."

She made a point to wave a little more vigorously as Bob's hand found her side and guided her outside while she laughed. "Sorry, I'm a bit of a lightweight, and now it's my goal to get him to laugh."

"I have a feeling you'll be working on that mission for a while," Bob said close to her ear. "Are you drunk?"

"No," she whispered. "Just silly."

Bob couldn't seem to help himself as he chuckled and led her along the sidewalk with one hand resting softly between her shoulder blades. "I don't really know what that means yet when it comes to you, Anna. Let me drive you home."

"Okay. It's not far," she replied, trying to imagine what it would be like if Bob ever saw the inside of her tiny apartment as she rattled off her street address. She climbed into his truck with a little bit of help, and then he reached for her seatbelt before pausing and placing it in her hand. 

"Buckle up," he told her as she stared down into his face.

"I will," she said slowly, narrowing her eyes. "If you promise not to download that app."

His lips twitched into a smile. "You have my word."

Bob walked around the front of his truck before climbing in and starting up the engine. He played with the radio dials while he drove as Anna breathed in her surroundings. Everything smelled good in here where Bob's fresh soap scent seemed to blend with the tang of jet fuel. She had to press her thighs together as she imagined running her nose along the front of his flight suit before he got himself cleaned up after a shift at work. 

"Oh no," she whispered as Bob pulled up to a red light a few streets from where she lived. Sky Writing's poetry swirled around in her mind, and she was afraid she might have whispered the words out loud when Bob turned and looked at her in surprise. 

"What did you just say?" he asked, eyeing her closely.

She thought about the words she had memorized once again. Passion pulses through my veins like a wild river. Binding me to you in a dance of fire.

"Nothing," she told him as the car behind his truck honked, still sitting after the light turned green.

When he parked at the curb in front of her building, he turned toward her with curious eyes and whispered, "I thought you said-"

But Anna had reached her limit with Bob. She released her seatbelt and leaned toward him, feeling more and more sure of herself the closer she got to his mouth. Then she pressed her lips gently to his and whimpered as she kissed him. Bob reached out and ran his graceful fingers along her cheek, and Anna melted into him before he abruptly pulled away. 

"Anna. I don't think this is something friends do," he croaked, voice raspy enough that she was forced to consider that she just kissed him.

"I'm so sorry," she gasped, hauling herself back across the seat and throwing the door open. "I'm so sorry, Bob."

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

I can't decide if that was a mistake or not on Anna's part. But the longing got to be too much for her. She wants him badly. I hope she doesn't go into hiding. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 6

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