#hands have been shaking all day i think i need to not drink coffee while my anxiety is this bad

[1ovestay]

why the fuck did someone rb my vent post abt my grandma dying and me doing extremely poorly rn like i know i talked about all that in the tags but read the fucking room?

[inkdrinkerworld]

“No more coffee, dove.” Remus takes the cup away from you and takes the mocha pot off the stove.

“But Remmy,” you whine and your boyfriend just levels you a look.

He pouts at you, all mocking and teasing which makes you want to stomp your foot. “No ‘But Remmy,’ you’ve had three. You’re cut off, my love.”

You can’t even be mad at him when he calls you nice things and gives you a kiss for your troubles.

Still you try. Then keys jingle in the door and your ability to get your way seems sparked up again, even if by a soft flame.

“Hi my darlings, I’m home.”

You give Remus a look that lets him know what you’re about to do and he resigns himself with watching you bewitch James like that’s your actual job.

“Hi Jamie! How was the gym?” Remus leans on the kitchen counter and watches you fawn over James to set you plan in motion.

“Good lovie. How was work? Were you trouble for our Remmy?”

You shake your head and Remus scoffs. James looks at him over your head and Remus only gives him a wink.

“I was super good! Was it arm day today?” Your hands slide up to his shoulders and then down to his wrists.

James chuckles, dimples popping out at he flexes. Your hands squeeze at his arms as he flexes and when James leans down for a kiss you really put the moves on him.

Your hands bury themselves in his still wet curls, tugging a little as you let James kiss into your mouth.

When you pull away, “Can you make me a fancy coffee, please baby?”

Remus rolls his eyes, “I just told you no, dove. You’ve had three.”

James looks down at you, a little smile on his face. “That true, angel?”

You scowl, “I really feel like I need a caffeine kick to get through the rest of my work. It won’t take long to wear off, either James. Swears.”

James doesn’t believe that part. The sun’s setting now and you really shouldn’t be having another cup of coffee.

He and Remus have spent many a night up with you while you all wait for the remnants of the caffeine leave you - not that they mind for themselves, they just don’t like you unable to sleep when it’s three in the morning and you’ve got to wake up at six.

You pout at him, holding onto his forearms as you stare at him with your best puppy dog eyes.

“Okay, let me go take a shower and I’ll fix you up one.”

You turn to Remus and stick your tongue out at him when James swats at your bum quickly making you hiss. “Oi!”

Remus only shakes his head as James passes you by to kiss Remus. “Jamie she really shouldn’t-“ James gives Remus another kiss, placating him completely.

For all his cheekiness, James had a subtle way of putting Remus at complete ease with just a kiss. “Be back in ten my loves.”

“You’re a brat.” Remus says playfully as James bounds the stairs and you give him a smug shrug as you sit at the table and start typing away at your work.

James comes back down and heads to the kitchen and starts making your drink. You hear all the wizzing and wowing of his fancy coffee routine and when he brings you a mug you look pleased as punch.

You take a sip and frown, looking up at James with betrayal all over your face.

“Decaf, Jamie?” It’s Remus’ turn to be smug, you dislike it on him entirely.

“Yes lovie. It’s too late for full caffeine and you’ll have been bouncing off the walls if I’d made one for you and wouldn’t have slept tonight.”

You just stare at him, James walks over to the table and kisses you. He can’t stand your pouty face. “I’ll make you a real fancy one in the morning before I head to practice, yeah?”

He pecks your lips when you don’t answer, and again when you hardly kiss back. James keeps at it until you giggle which is only three more kisses. He savors the kisses and your giggle.

“Yeah, Jamie.”

Remus comes to the table to meet you two, “What about my kisses?”

You pretend to think about it before kissing Remus lips, pecks following a sloppy trail all over his cheeks making him blush.

“Love you, Remmy.”

He smiles, turning your face so he can kiss your lips again. “I love you too, dove.”

James pouts, both you and Remus kiss his cheek before he can even ask.

“We love you Jamie. Loads and loads.”

He smiles, a megawatt spotlight really, and kisses you both back.

“What are you thinking of for tea? A chippy?” James asks, hand in Remus’ hair and on your cheek as you look down to your laptop and save your work.

There’s no point in trying to do any of it now that you’re all home. “Yeah, can I have cod this time? Didn’t fancy the haddock last time.”

Remus nods, “Anything you want, lovely girl.” James is already on the phone placing everyone’s orders, not forgetting everyone’s add-ons.

[reidmania]

love letters | s.reid

summary; when you miss spencer while he is away on a case, you re-read all the love letters he has written you over the course of your relationship

warnings; established relationships, mentions case but doesnt go into detail, fem reader, reader is not a coffee drinker, fluff fluff fluff

an; fic six!! this is just pure fluff tbh. also can we appreciate the colouring on this fic. ITS SO PERFECT PRETTU PERFECT.

You’re lying on the bed that feels too big without him, your fingers idly tracing the edge of a soft, worn piece of paper. The clock beside you reads 2:12 a.m., and you can’t shake the emptiness settling over you as you stare at the ceiling, too awake to sleep and too tired to do anything else. Spencer’s been away for three days now, and every hour without him feels like it stretches on and on, the silence heavier than you’d ever thought silence could be.

Your eyes drift back to the drawer beside your bed, a drawer he never opens, but where you keep something he would recognize instantly. Tucked away are letters, dozens of them, each one a quiet reminder of him. They’re notes, really—not grand declarations, not epic poems. Just little reminders he’s left you over time, slipped into coat pockets or left folded on your pillow. You hadn’t intended to save them all, but now, having them close is the only thing keeping you grounded while he’s away.

You open the drawer and pull out the little bundle tied with a piece of twine. Your heart swells as you untie it, gently unfolding the first note. It’s one of your favorites, written on a torn scrap of notebook paper, one corner crinkled from a drop of coffee. Spencer had left it on your kitchen counter before heading out to work, months ago.

“If I could leave you notes all over the world, I would. But for now, just look outside—it’s raining, and I know that makes you feel calm. I’ll be home before the storm’s over. – S”

You smile, remembering that day. You’d found the note just before noticing the rain falling in gentle streams outside your window, and you’d waited with a blanket by the window, watching the clouds until he came back, just like he’d promised. He always knew how to turn your little quirks into anchors.

Setting that note aside, you reach for another. This one’s written on the back of a receipt from the bookshop downtown. It’s short and scrawled in his neat handwriting.

“You pick up this book as if it’s a friend you haven’t seen in years. It’s beautiful to watch. Don’t forget to mark your place in the story—I want to hear what you think. – S”

You laugh to yourself, remembering how he’d tucked it into the back of the book after you bought it. He hadn’t let you see it until you found it yourself one night, and the memory of the way he’d watched you read that note makes your heart ache just a little more.

You lie back against the pillows, shifting so you’re curled around his side of the bed. It’s silly, maybe, reading these notes over and over. But as you go through them, each one reminds you how much he loves you, how he notices things about you that you hadn’t even noticed about yourself. His love is a quiet kind, a series of small gestures and words, but somehow, it feels bigger than anything else you’ve known.

Another note catches your eye. This one’s on a tiny sticky note, a bright yellow square you’d found on your mirror one morning.

“You make coffee exactly how I like it, even when you don’t drink it. I don’t think anyone’s ever done that for me before. I’m lucky. – S”

You can still remember the warmth of his hand over yours when he found you reading it, how he hadn’t needed to say anything else.

The letters become a timeline of your relationship, a way to measure time not by dates but by memories, by little notes that remind you of the person you are when you’re with him. Each one has a tiny piece of his heart tucked into it, a small reminder that he’s with you even when he’s halfway across the country.

You read through a few more, feeling your eyes grow heavy but not wanting to close them. There’s something grounding about seeing his words, knowing that he took the time to write these little messages just for you. In a way, it makes the ache of missing him almost bearable, makes you feel connected to him in a way that’s both heartbreaking and comforting.

You’ve just set down the last one, a note he left in the middle of a crossword puzzle—“How do you always know the words I can’t think of? I love you.”—when your phone buzzes on the nightstand.

It’s him.

You answer on the first ring, not even caring if he’ll be able to hear the lingering sleepiness in your voice. “Spencer?” you say, unable to help the warmth in your tone.

“Did I wake you?” His voice is soft, low, and there’s a hint of worry in it.

“Not really. I couldn’t sleep,” you reply. There’s a beat of silence before you add, “I was reading some of your notes.”

The smile in his voice is unmistakable. “You kept those?”

“All of them.” You can practically feel his surprise through the line. “It helps. You know, with you being away.”

He hums softly, a sound you know means he’s thinking. “Do you have a favourite?”

There’s a hundred favourites, but you know the answer without hesitating. “The one on the mirror, about the coffee. I don’t think anyone’s ever noticed something like that before.”

The line goes quiet for a moment, but you know he’s smiling. “I think about those little things a lot,” he admits. “I keep thinking about how much I miss you. I know I’ll be back in a few days, but it doesn’t stop me from wishing it was sooner.”

Your heart tightens, and you can’t help but imagine him sitting in some unfamiliar hotel room, thinking of you just as much as you’re thinking of him. “I miss you, too,” you whisper, barely able to keep your voice steady.

There’s another pause, the comforting kind, where neither of you needs to say anything. It’s enough just to be together, even like this.

“Do you want to hear about the case?” he asks gently, as if he’s afraid you’ll say no. You do, because it’s part of him, and you always want to know. So he tells you, his voice a familiar comfort in the dark, weaving through the details with that measured precision he’s so good at. You listen, nodding at the right places, even though he can’t see you, letting his words settle over you like a lullaby.

When he’s finished, there’s a soft exhale on the other end of the line. “Do you have any notes for me?” he asks, the hint of a tease in his voice.

“I could think of a few,” you say with a smile, glancing down at the scattered pages on your bed. “Maybe a sticky note on your phone: ‘Call your girlfriend as soon as the plane lands.’”

You can hear his smile widen. “I think I can manage that.” His voice softens, the words almost like a whisper. “I’ll keep leaving them, you know. Notes, I mean. Just in case.”

“In case of what?”

“In case you ever need a reminder. That I love you. That I notice the little things. That I’ll be there, even if it takes a while.”

You’re quiet, just for a moment, because the words stick in your throat. He always knows how to get to the heart of things, how to make you feel so understood. “I don’t need a reminder for that,” you say. “But I’ll still read them every time I miss you.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I’ve written so many,” he murmurs, the warmth in his voice unmistakable. “Get some sleep, okay? I’ll be home before you know it.”

You nod, letting your eyes close. “I love you, Spencer.”

“I love you, too,” he replies, his voice like a gentle embrace over the line. “Sleep well.”

The call ends, but you hold the phone to your chest, listening to the quiet in your room. For the first time in days, it doesn’t feel lonely. Spencer may be miles away, but his words are here, resting against your heart, waiting for you in every corner of every room.

[werecreature-addicted]

okay but what about going on a trip and your vampire boyfriend misses you, he just can’t keep his hands off you for hours after you’ve returned constantly manhandling you and whispering how much he’s missed you and the things he’s thought about while jerking off whilst you were away

perhaps even taking a little bite to taste the blood he’s missed oh so much while you were gone ;)

You end up getting back home in the middle of the day. Your vampire boyfriend can't help but pace back and forth impatiently waiting for you to come home, annoyed that he's trapped indoors by the sun.

"Hey, I'm-" You don't even get to finish the sentence before you get swept up into his arms, his mouth covering yours in a deep kiss.

"Missed you," he mumbles against your mouth before pushing his tongue past your lips. He pushed you back against a wall and slid a hand up your shirt, groping you as you kissed.

"I can tell," you think to yourself, still unable to voice the thought with his mouth on yours. you'd missed him too, it had been too long without his cold hands on your body and his teeth in your neck. You might have to go out of town more if this was the kind of welcome home you got.

"I need you right now," he growls, breaking the kiss briefly.

"Take me then," you challenge. He doesn't even bother taking you up to the bed, he just turns you around and bends you over the first flat surface he sees, which happens to be an antique coffee table. He tugs at your clothes, punning you down.

"You have no idea how badly I missed you," he groans you press your ass back and feel his hard cock press against you.

"I've got some idea," you tease, then sigh in pleasure feeling his mouth on your neck, kissing softly. "Bite me, please," you beg.

"not yet, I want to be in you when I bite," he murmurs. "that's all I could think about the entire time you were away, how badly I wanted to drink your blood while fucking you, wanted to feel my pretty girl cum while I bite." you can feel his cock press into you, filling you in one swift stroke.

"did you touch yourself while I was gone?" you ask, your voice shaking as he starts slowly thrusting into you.

"I did, couldn't help myself, I got so hard thinking about what I'd do when you got home, how I'd fuck this pretty pussy so hard you'd never leave me again," he whimpers. you can picture it perfectly, him alone on your bed touching himself and smelling your pillow, or maybe a pair of your underwear that he'd stolen.

"I- ahh- I didn't leave I was on a work trip," you protest. He didn't say anything coherent, just mumbled against your neck before biting you hard, his sharp teeth puncturing your skin your warm blood spilling over into his mouth. after that, you don't say much at all.

[specshroom]

★ - Some assistance

You and your boyfriend are lounging on the couch in the living room, winding down after a long day. He's drinking his evening tea and reading while you unsuccessfully distract yourself by flicking through channels on the TV. You decide to just come out and ask what you've been meaning to ask for awhile now.

"Kento? Do you think you could make me squirt?"

This poor man chokes on his tea and almost messes it on his home shirt. He just looks at you with a face that says "Why would you ask me something like that so suddenly?" You just look at him deadpan waiting for his response. He clears his throat and composes himself, realising it was a somewhat serious question and his girlfriend (soon to be fiancé, hopefully) wasn't just playing some dumb joke. 

"Well... I'm sure I could try, Y/n. But why bring that up so out of the blue, if you mind me asking."

He responds, as polite as always. He makes you feel so safe in his presence it's almost supernatural.

"Uh... I've just been thinking about it for awhile, I guess." He places his mug on the coffee table, the one that says "Live, Laugh, Love" in exaggerated curly font, courtesy of Gojo. He doesn't know why you insist on making his tea in that mug but he drinks it every time anyway. He brings your legs into his lap and lightly massages them silently asking you to continue. 

"I'm just curious to see if I can is all. Whenever I've tried to do it myself, I always just get too sensitive and stop, but... If I had someone else do it, I think I might actually be able to."

You explain this to him almost like a scientist explains their hypothesis, like you've thought about it for awhile. He rubs under your shins and thinks for a bit. he would very much like to be the one to make you squirt and he's confident in his abilities but he also doesn't want you to be upset if you end up not being able to do it.

"I also just think it would be really hot if you made me squirt." 

That breaks him out of his thoughts with a disbelieving huff. 

"The problem is that when I get sensitive I'm gonna be yelling for you to stop out of second nature. But you can't stop Kento, you have to keep going until I either squirt or say the safe word. Can you do that, Baby?" Nanami looks up at your serious face, you really have thought about this quite a bit. He nods his head, sealing the deal. You just stare at eachother for a moment longer, the TV still going in the back. You break out in a smile, unable to keep the semi-serious atmosphere. 

"Can- can we do it now?" You ask the man on the opposite end of the couch while you try and stifle a giggle. 

Nanami smiles and pulls you closer to him by your legs. You yelp as you get yanked into his lap where he attacks your neck with kisses. He hoists you up and starts walking to the bedroom. Once he sets you onto your shared bed, you start removing your shirt and shorts while he rummages in the cupboard for a towel that he puts down on the bed before undressing himself.

You're almost shaking with excitement and anticipation. Nanami sits against the headboard in nothing but his boxers, placing the towel on the bed in front of him. He watches as you turn to him with that sultry look in your eyes. You crawl your way up the bed on all fours until you're right between his muscular thighs. Your hands glide up his thighs and waist, you kiss him with need and he reciprocates. You break the connection to feel yourself up infront of him and sensually take off your bra. You present yourself to him and kiss him again before turning around and pressing your back to his chest. 

His hands go to your waist to gently squeeze and rub there. You spare no flare when taking off your panties and you adjust yourself so that both your legs are wide open, slightly bent and his stronger ones are over yours, forcing them to stay open.

"Put your legs like this so that it stops me from closing mine when it gets too sensitive." 

You say as you help him into the position you want. Nanami chuckles and bends down to say lowly into your ear.

"You really have thought this whole thing through, huh?" 

You flush and nod your head as his hand moves down your body to where you want him the most. His touch is gentle at first, lightly stroking down your clit and lips, gathering wetness with his fingers. He starts to work his finger into you and gently rubs your clit with the other hand, coaxing you to melt into his touch. You start moaning and groaning with the pleasure your wonderful boyfriend is giving you. 

With both his hands working on your pussy so diligently, it's no wonder your first orgasm washes over you pretty quickly. Nanami keeps going at the same steady pace after you cum and it's the first out of the ordinary occurrence in this session. You usually would get a grace period after you cum to come down from the high but you and Nanami have a goal. The fact that you get no chance to come down at all is fucking with your brain and the fucked out feeling is just multiplying every second his strong hands play with your pussy. 

Nanami lays back a bit, forcing you to also lay back and expose yourself a bit more as you begin to writhe and squirm. One hand is still diligently circling your clit as he works his two middle fingers into you, slamming into that perfect spot inside you over and over and over again. You get louder and more frantic as the second orgasm hits you. Your head falls back on Nanamis chest as you groan his name. 

"Uuuuh Fuck! Feels so good Kento, soo good, so good, s' good, s' good, s' gud." You mumble and moan to him. Your second orgasm hits you full force and the pleasure doesn't stop or slow down, in fact it only gets more intense. He doesn't even slow down despite you're kicking legs and bucking hips.

Nanami eventually brings you to a third orgasm, now things really start to feel sensitive and your whines and cries of overstimulation get louder but the man doesn't tire. He keeps going, mumbling things like "Cmon, cmon Love." And "You can do it Darling". 

Before you know it the fourth wave hits you like a train, this is where you get frantically desperate as you realize he isnt even slowing down. You're now actively trying to get out of his iron hold, trying to close your legs just a little but his strong thighs keep you open for him. You're squirming and struggling and crying out.

"Wait wait wait wait!".

Your pussy is so raw and sensitive, you almost beg him to slow down but the man is going even stronger now. He's more precise with his movements, touching all the right spots with just the right amount of force to make you weep. 

"Wait Ken! It's sensitive, stoooop stopstopstop!" You hands go to his to try and make him slow down a little but Nanami isn't having any of that. You set out a goal for yourself and clear rules. He is going to make sure you reach your goals like the good partner he is.

He cages your arms against your chest with one arm hugged around you while the other still goes at your clit, rubbing frantic but deliberate circles into the pink flesh with his callous palm. The wet slick sounds of your pussy being bullied by the man you love are drowned out by the sounds coming from your mouth.

You're screaming now, legs shaking and kicking, not nearly strong enough to budge against Nanami's thick thighs forcing them wide open. Your entire body begins convulsing and spasming, you swear you feel like you're going to pee but you don't even have the mind to be concerned about that. You can only scream an intelligible jumble of pleas at this point as your nails dig into his arm. 

"Cmon Honey, just one more f'me, your doing so well."

The praise makes you go even dumber as you're quickly brought to the end of your rope. The last strand snaps and a tidel wave of violent hot pleasure comes crashing down on your entire being. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your screams turn to silent hiccups and overwhelmed chokes.

Your body convulses violently and your back arches off Nanamis chest as he holds you tightly to his chest. It's by far the most intense orgasm of your life and you don't even register the jet of clear liquid shooting out from you untill you hear Nanamis loud groan at the sight.

"There you go, that's my girl."

You're brought back to earth and let out a long groan as Nanami presses up on the hood of your clit to force more squirt out of you, the feeling is even more euphoric than you thought it could ever be. 

Nanami pats your pussy, making sure he gets every last drop out as your wetness trickles down your pussy and ass onto the towel Nanami set down, which was definitely not enough to keep the bed dry. You drop your body completely limp onto Nanamis chest as you both catch your breath.

Nanami releases your arms and your hand immediately goes to cup your swollen, abused pussy with a whine. Nanami chuckles and runs his hands down your back and around your waist, soothing you, bringing you down gently while mumbling little praises. You curl up on top of him and dig your face into his neck with another small whine. 

"Love you s'much." You mumble into his hot skin. He chuckles at you once again. 

"I love you too, Baby."

-★

[luveline]

Hi Jade!!! I love, love, love your writing. I was wondering if you could write something for Tsam Peter x reader where reader has a concussion and Peter is just generally super sweet about taking care of them? I have a concussion right now and I feel like he would be so sweet about it. If not feel free to ignore this, love you!!! <3

i love u!! fem!reader, 1k

You’re shivering again. Peter looks up from his book suspiciously, squinting at the curve of your where you’re laying on his couch. He should let you rest —you’re allowed to sleep with a concussion, despite what some might think— but he doesn’t like the shivering. It’s weird. 

“I'm coming, baby,” he says, standing up from the armchair to situate himself by your hips. 

Peter pulls the blankets more firmly to your chin. “Are you cold, bub?” he asks. It might appear that he’s talking to you while you’re still sleeping, but the smile you give when he talks proves otherwise. 

“No,” you force out in a mumble. 

“Are you sure?” 

It takes you some time to think about it. Your body’s been thrown for a loop since you hurt yourself, but you’re healing nicely, and your mental stamina is yards better than it had been. Peter asked you yesterday if you wanted a kiss and you couldn’t answer him for a full minute, and when you did it was an uncoordinated lift of your chin. You’re still in there, still his girl, just mildly incapacitated for the time being. 

“I might be,” you decide. 

Peter grabs a throw from under the coffee table and shakes it out over your arms and shoulders. “There. Need a drink?” 

“Do you?” you ask. 

“What?” 

“You’re asking me lots of questions,” you say, slowly, quietly, but not without character. “I thought I’d ask one back.” 

“I don’t need anything.” He tilts his head to align your faces, leaning in, not quite close enough to kiss you. 

“You look very serious right now, Spider-Man.” 

He glares for show. “So serious.” 

“Sorry I can’t really make you a drink.” 

Peter wipes the glare. “I’m sorry you got hurt. I don’t care that you can’t be my serf right now. When you’re better I’m gonna work you twice as hard, that’s all.” 

You raise a tired hand to his jaw. You’re extra careful to offset your wonky hand, stroking a clumsy but tender line from his ear to his chin. “Can you help me up?” 

Peter doesn’t question you. You’ve been recovering for a few days (he hasn’t realised before your injury that some people can take months to get better after a head injury, even without blood clots or fractures) and he’s not felt the urge to baby you beyond waiting on your every whim and want. If you’d like to sit up, that’s okay. The only thing he’d insist on is getting enough sleep at night, and thats something you’ll do happily. 

“Can I give you a hug?” he asks, his eyebrows pinching up at their starts. “I hate seeing you shiver, it makes me sad.” 

“Makes you sad?”

He squeezes your elbow where the blankets have fallen down. “Is that surprising?” 

You want to trade jokes with him but you can’t summon a retort, and your smile quickly fades. It can’t be nice, feeling a shade of yourself. Peter’s heart aches for you twice. 

“C’mere, pretty girl,” he says, slipping his arms under yours, encouraging you to wrap your own behind his head or let them rest behind his shoulders. He loves hugging you like this, almost lifting you, spider strength begging to be used as you sigh and settle into place against him. You feel a little like a shell of yourself, not quite quick with touches, fingertips twitching against his shoulder blade as he nuzzles his face against yours unabashed. “There you are. Where’d you go, huh? I was about to send out the search party.” 

“I’m right here.” 

“Yeah you are. Lucky me, right? Luckiest guy in the world.” 

You sigh happily beside his ear, your face pitching slowly downward until it’s pressing against the curve of his neck, your arms slipping down his front as you run out of energy. He doesn’t mind, bundling you up with no intention of letting you go. 

“How do you feel?” he asks. 

“Still fuzzy, like… it’s like we’re talking to each other through a screen door.” 

“Do you need something? Or want something? I’ll get you anything.” 

“I’m fine.” 

He lets out a sorry sigh. He wishes you’d want something, god knows he’d love to put a smile on your face. If you were feeling better you might ask him to go and get you something for dinner from across the city, or beg him to find you a bunch of flowers (which he’s always willing to buy). But sick, you ask for nothing. You just lay on the couch and wait to get better. Peter doesn’t think it’s super fair. 

“I’m sorry you’re not better yet,” he murmurs, his lips drifting down to your temple, which he kisses weakly, the barest brush of his lips. “Wish I could take it from you.” 

“I’ll be okay soon.” 

“I know you will, but I still wish I could take it. It’s shitty.” 

You think about this for a while. “It’s not shitty,” you work out finally, hand curling against his waist in a tired display of affection. “I have the… best boyfriend ever looking after me.” 

“I’ll be here until you’re better, you know that.” 

“I know.” 

Peter ushers you back and lifts your blankets, slotting himself next to you with a careful arm held behind your back. You show some surprising excitement at the offering of a cuddle and work under his arm, shuffling down the couch to leave you both laying on the same cushion, blankets uneven but warm over your chests. “You should probably go back to sleep,” he says. 

“Nap with me?” you ask, endearingly hopeful. 

He turns his face, intending on drawing lines into your cheek with the tip of his nose until you either fall asleep or can’t take it anymore. “Sure, baby. I bet you’re exhausted, huh? Let’s sleep.” 

He falls asleep before you, breathing snores into your cheek. You have enough wits about you to laugh, and then you fall asleep, too. 

[crowdedimagines]

Last Christmas - Bradley Bradshaw

4k of fluff and a little horniness ❤️‍🔥 masterlist

summary: Bradley gets a 12-month assignment before he can secure a title with the hot bartender he’s been spending the past few weeks going home with… will she still be there waiting next Christmas?

Last year.

“I don’t know you guys, it’s just too early to expect anything of her.” Rooster shakes his head with a sigh. It’s heavy on his mind how soon the holidays are and how few days he actually has left here in San Diego.

Phoenix nods her head sympathetically, while Hangman is more focused rolling his eyes and his aim towards the dart board.

“It is early, but also in all the years I’ve known you I’ve never seen you obsess over a girl this much.” Phoenix admits.

“Just say he’s whipped, Nix.” Hangman interjects while launching another dart at the board.

“It’s a twelve-month deployment. I’ll be gone for a year.” Rooster has to fight the urge to put his head down on the table to show how utterly defeated he feels, “That’s a lot for any relationship let alone one that’s less than two months old and technically doesn’t even have a title.”

“Yeah, whose fault is that on the title.” Phoenix kicks his shin.

“I could get a girl to wait a year for me.” Hangman smirks, his eyes still never leaving the dart board.

“Hangman, you couldn’t get a girl to wait a week for you.” Rooster jabs.

“No, don’t get it twisted.” He smirks while tucking the toothpick back between his lips, “I won’t wait a week for anyone, but I could get a girl to wait for me.”

On that disgusting note, Hangman leaves the two of them at the hightop close to the darts in favor of the pool table that has the rest of their group surrounding it.

“Speak of the devil.” Phoenix teases catching sight of Y/n as she finally leaves the bar with a tray in hand. She stops briefly when a guy asks for a refill and she nods before continuing over to their table.

“Why do you look like someone kicked a puppy?” She asks with a pout in her lips, she sets down a new beer for each of them and takes their old bottles.

“Hangman is an ass.” Rooster defends, glancing to Phoenix for a brief second to remind her to go along with it.

“Awe, do you need me to take away his toys?” She says with a smirk and a squeeze of his bicep before she makes her way back behind the bar still wearing a grin. It’s a Friday so the bar is busy and they’re doing their normal routine.

Y/n has been bartending at the hard deck for two months and she's been hooking up with Rooster for nearly two months. Bradley had to chase her for a few weeks before she finally let him take her home and they’ve kept it up ever since.

She’s quick witted and isn’t afraid to tell anyone off which he likes a lot. He’s witnessed her ring the bell more times than he can count, but he always notes how smug she is to put a man in his place. Hangman has been on the receiving end of the verbal lashings a couple of times, which had Rooster dragging her home early with a proud grin.

“Let me just say this, the longer you wait to tell her the harder it’ll be. Get it over with so you can enjoy the next few days.” Phoenix advises.

“What if once I tell her and then it’s done right then and there?”

He panics thinking about the possibility. It’s why he’s procrastinated telling her since he found out. He knows it’s more than just sex when they hang out, but there haven't been any real serious dates. He knows how she likes her coffee in the morning, and which movies she’s never seen that he tries to push that night. His weekends off they’ll spend the whole day leading up to her shift together, mostly in bed. Then he takes her to work and the whole group comes out to drink, and he spends the night pretending not to count down the minutes until she’s off again.

She’s very quickly become the entire center of his focus.

“Y/n is not like that.” She shakes her head, “You two are feral for each other, and as much as she loves to tease you, it’s obvious she likes you too.”

Rooster nods, drinking down a few more big gulps of his beer. He catches Y/n’s eyes from behind the bar and she throws him a wink not even faltering while pouring a mixed drink. Eventually he pulls himself out of his mopey mood when they join the rest of the group. It’s a good distraction from the upcoming deployment. Some of the group will be going with him too, so they’re trying to enjoy their night too. Last Friday of freedom. He joins for a couple rounds of pool, still nursing the same beer so he can drive later.

“Your girl is making googly eyes at you.” Javy nods his head in the direction of the bar behind him.

Rooster turns to look and catches her eyes and this time it’s his turn to smirk, but Y/n doesn’t look away. Her stare calling him over to the vacant stool in front of where she pours.

“Hey Sailor.” She greets with a name she calls him frequently, “Long time no see.”

“I saw you half an hour ago.” He smiles, “You getting lonely over here?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say lonely.” Her cheeks dust pink as she drags out the last word. She walks around to the other side of the bar to bring the drink she had just made.

“Do you have to close tonight?”

“Bradley, are you trying to take me home?” She whips around with a grin. She’s bantering with him per usual, as if they don’t always go home together at this point. And by home, they mean her tiny apartment. Rooster is living on base in the barracks for the time being as it wasn’t known how long he would be stationed at Top Gun. Ironically Bradley had been looking at apartments on his phone the last few weeks before he found out about the long-term deployment he would be stuck on.

“I’m always trying to take you home.” He admits.

“Well it must be your lucky day, Sailor. I don’t close, I’m off at eleven.”

Rooster looks down at his watch to see it’s a quarter past ten. He was hoping you didn’t close since he knew you were here well before him and the rest of the squad.

“I’ll be waiting.”

He gives her a knowing smile, backing away from the bar and she gives him a rare soft look. He returns to the group, knowing that since he’s leaving shortly he needs to hangout with them until it’s actually time to go. He waits until she starts to untie her apron and talking with Penny before he stands and starts his goodbyes.

Y/n makes her way out the back door after bringing some more stock up just in case. Rooster is leaning in the same spot as always, insisting on walking her to her car. She reaches out a hand for him to take but she’s surprised when they go down the stairs and he tugs her harder in the direction of the bronco.

“We can get your car tomorrow.” Bradley insists.

“Oh, is that so?” She lets him lead her anyway.

“Yes ma’am. I’m requiring a car ride because I don’t think I can spend another twenty minutes apart.” He leads her right over to the passenger side of the Bronco, swinging the door open for her. Instead of getting in she turns around, trapping herself between him and the car.

“Well, when you put it like that.” She pulls down on the back of his neck so their lips would meet for the first time of the night. She hums in satisfaction and he lets out a groan as she pulls on the curls on the back of his head. They give it a few minutes to get more intense before Bradley is pulling back. He’s got her pushed against the side of the car, both of them out of breath.

“This is gonna be a long twenty minutes.”

“Drive fast.”

They both get in the car after that, his hand glued to the top of her bare thigh. Even with Christmas only being a few days away, the air is warm in the sixties. The windows are cracked bringing a welcomed breeze for the two that are too hot to handle in the moment. Rooster keeps glancing to see how swollen her lips are and Y/n can’t tear her eyes from his messed up curls.

The first parking spot in sight has Rooster throwing the car in park and they both quickly throw their doors open. He chases her up the stairs when she takes off with a laugh, it only takes a few strides for him to catch her and throw her over his shoulder.

“You’re telling me all of this muscle has a use, not just for looks?” She asks from behind him, his arm securing her on top of his shoulder. She traces the center line of his back, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“The Navy doesn’t do ‘just for looks’.” He reminds.

“That’s right, you are Navy property.” She reaches down to smack his ass, not noticing the pang Bradley felt at the reminder. He is Navy property and that’s why he has no say over leaving her for a year.

“Yeah, we actually need to talk about that.” He bends down to put her feet back on the ground. She didn’t even realize they were at her apartment door, but she just stands there with key in hand with her face pale at the serious tone of his voice.

“Bradley?”

“Let’s go in to talk about it.”

She doesn’t say anything in response, just unlocking her door and leaving it open for him to follow. She makes her way over to the couch and sets her keys and bag down on the coffee table. He sits down next to her, fully aware of the fact that he’s killed whatever high they were both on the whole way home.

“I got official orders for a new deployment.” He blurts.

“Oh, okay.” She sighs, “For how long?”

He gulps audibly which brings back her nerves. He turns fully to face her on the couch before answering her question and you could hear a pin drop with the silence that is met after.

“A year?” Her brows shoot to the top of her forehead in shock. The reality sinking in and he watches a dozen emotions cross her face before she looks up to him again.

“I don’t even know the details yet, but from what I know it’s far away and it’s pretty complex. Likely now that I’ve been training pilots at Top Gun, I’ll probably be involved with training too.”

“God, can you try sucking at your job so they don’t take you very long?” She jokes, trying to lighten the mood. She pulls her legs up on the couch to sit cross legged facing him, he reaches out a hand to her knee without a second thought.

“No, ma’am.” He sighs, pushing a strand that’s escaped her ponytail back behind her ear.

“How soon do you have to go?”

“Monday.”

“This Monday?” She shrieks, “That’s before Christmas!”

“I know.” He pushes his lips together in a straight line to show his own dissatisfaction with it. His fluffy mustache on prominent display.

“You’re gonna miss Christmas.” She says sadly.

“I’m gonna miss a lot more than that.”

He leans down to peck her lips, but it doesn’t wipe the slight pout from her face.

“I like where this was headed.” She interrupts him with a ‘me too’ that makes him grin, “But I can’t ask you to wait that long. I won’t be back until next December. I really like you, and I know I’m gonna spend all that time thinking about you, but-”

“But what?” She interrupts once again. She pushes the curls back off his forehead and lets her fingers weave through and Bradley has to fight the urge to close his eyes. “What if I want to wait?”

This has his eyes opening wider in shock of his own.

“What?”

She smirks at his reaction and climbs into his lap, no longer fighting the need to be close to him. Her fingers still running along the sides of his head mindlessly and his hands find her hips.

“What. If. I. Wait?” She presses a kiss along his jaw between each word, his fingers digging in a little harder.

“Are you serious?” He leans his head back to get a clear view of her face. She sits back a little so they both can actually focus on the topic at hand.

“Bradley, I like you and I guarantee in a year I still will. Does this mean you’re finally gonna make me a girlfriend?”

“God, please can I?” She nods excitedly and this time he leads the kiss, desperate to hold her as close as physically possible. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

“Yes.” She grins widely.

“Will you wait a year for me to come back?”

“Yes, baby.” He kisses her like his life depends on it. He likes the new nickname and she can feel just how much he likes it as he hardens under her. “Take me to bed, boyfriend.”

-

The two of them spend all day Saturday in Y/n’s apartment. Not even leaving for food, opting to order delivery and stay in the comfort of the warm bed. Penny gave her Saturday off when she found out about Bradley’s deployment and how soon it was. Sadly she had no one to cover her Sunday shift so their bubble had to come to an end when Bradley needed new clothes and she had to get ready for work.

They decide to meet at the Hard Deck a couple hours after her shift starts. The entire Dagger Squad makes a Sunday night appearance knowing it’s going to be a long time before they’re all back together again.

“God, I didn’t think you guys could get worse.” Hangman huffs rolling his eyes. Y/n pulls away from her boyfriend, who she had been leaning across the counter to kiss. There’s only one other group tucked away by the window otherwise the squad takes up all of the stools at the bar.

“Just wait and see how insufferable he’s gonna be without me.” Y/n teases, grabbing Jake’s glass to refill it.

“Yeah, leave me and my girlfriend alone.” Rooster joins in, putting an extra emphasis on girlfriend.

“That sounds so hot.” She grins wider.

“Okay, yeah now I’m with him.” Phoenix shakes her head agreeing with Hangman.

It’s safe to say the two of them have been soaking in every last second they can. The bar has been quiet enough with it being a Sunday that the whole group just stayed at the bar so Y/n could still be close by. They didn’t know however that it would mean witnessing kisses over the bar and a lot of googly eyes. Penny gave her the all clear to close early if it were slow, so she is all too happy to kick out the squad when they are the only ones left.

Bradley waits for her to finish cleaning up, leaving together hand in hand out the back door to the parking lot.

“Where’s the Bronco?” She asks, noting the empty parking lot aside from her car.

“I left it on base so we could ride together tomorrow morning.” He clears his throat, “Unless you don’t want to take me, I can get Phoenix to-”

“I’ll take every minute I can get.” She smiles, pulling him down for a quick kiss as they make their way over to her car. “As if I would pass up on dropping you off. I was just hoping I was finally gonna drive the Bronco.”

“Yeah, maybe next year.” He rolls his eyes, knowing that she knows he doesn’t pass off his keys too easily.

-

Knowing she had been working until close at the Hard Deck and he sure as hell didn’t let her sleep much, she looks surprisingly awake at 6:00 a.m. She looks more than awake, she looks perfect. Her hair is a mess that he knows a brush hasn’t met yet today, but it reminds him of himself pulling on it. The fact that they opted for one more round in bed rather than taking the time to actually get ready.

“What’re you looking at?” She teases, catching onto his stare while she looks ahead at the road. They are already on base, he gives her directions when needed for where to drop him off.

“You.” He admits, “Soaking up every last second I can.”

“You won’t have to rely too much on your memory, reach in the backseat.” Her all too familiar wicked grin makes an appearance.

He reaches in the back to find a Christmas bag with bright tissue paper sticking out. He cuts her a serious look, they hadn’t had time to do presents and figure that out before it was time for him to ship out. He tosses the tissue paper behind him and finds a small four by six tin and opens it to find a picture of Y/n, his dog tags on and nothing else.

“I didn’t have enough time to pose for a calendar, so these will have to do.” She laughs, struggling to picture him hanging one up where anyone can see. Y/n is pleased to see how pink his cheeks are turning.

“This is the best Christmas gift I’ve ever gotten.” He closes the tin without going through all of the pictures inside, opting to pull her in for a quick kiss now that they’re parked.

“Baby, I didn’t get you anything. I wasn’t sure what we-”

“Come back to me. In a year, I’ll be right here and you’ll be my gift.” She reaches out a hand just to hold his face. Her thumb brushes the edge of his mustache, he turns his head slightly to press a kiss to her thumb.

They get out of the car and Y/n sees a few other couples seemingly doing the same dance of dropping their partners off. Bradley sets down his overstuffed duffle on the ground and backs her into a hug against the car. He pulls her as tight as possible while she runs her nails back and forth on his back. He pulls back to look at her once everyone has gone inside and he knows he’ll be the last arrival.

“I’m gonna look so good for you when you get back.” She teases, her arms wrapped around the back of his neck while his hands grip her hips. She’s leaning against the hood of her car with him placed between her legs. It’s not the right height like the bronco, but it’s working plenty fine.

“Oh jesus.” Bradley sighs, already creating a picture in his head.

“You might wanna have the medical team close by, you might go into heart failure.” She presses a hand flat against his firm chest.

“I think that’s a good idea.”

One more kiss he tells himself, then he can go. Y/n opens her mouth wider to deepen the kiss and Bradley goes one step further by sliding his hands down from her hips to the back of her thighs and pulls her up into his arms. The kiss never breaks, the past few weeks have paid off as practice. She moans into the kiss more and he feels himself harden, he breaks off knowing they can’t go any farther if he’s supposed to walk onto a carrier in ten minutes.

“Bye, baby.” He plants her feet firmly on the ground again before letting go.

“See you in a year, Sailor.”

Hours later when he’s on the carrier and he’s already had three different briefings, he finally shuffles through the pictures back in the safety of his room. He’s still trying to wrap his mind around how she had the time to put this together in time for him to bring them, but damn is he glad.

Next year. Xx

The second picture in the stack has her wrapped up in a stunning red set that he’s dying to unravel. If he had to guess that the real in person sight would’ve been his gift this year if he wasn’t deployed. Next year it is.

-

Waiting a year to see each other in person is easily the hardest thing either of them has had to face. Communication was sketchy at best for Bradley, but he called as often as they would let him. It’s hard for him to believe they’ve been apart longer than they’ve known each other.

His eyes scan all of the significant others waiting for everyone offloading from the ship. He takes a few steps closer, his duffle heavy in hand. The bright blue of the Bronco is familiar and like a beacon for him towards the back of the group of people, especially when he can see a familiar figure leaning against the front in a red floral dress. He fights the urge to sprint, but there’s an obvious pep in his quick steps.

“Hey, Sailor.” Y/n greets once he’s within earshot.

“Is that my girlfriend?” He asks with a bright grin. This is the first time he’s smiled that wide in nearly a year. He drops his bag at her feet and scoops her up, their lips meet and his hand is protective holding down the bottom of her dress while he spins. Finally, for the first time in nearly a year and it’s somehow better than all the build up that they had been waiting for. Worth the wait.

“That’s a hell of a welcome.” He huffs, slightly out of breath.

“I haven’t even started.” She smirks.

“Both my girls are here to pick me up?” He asks, looking behind her to the bronco he hasn’t seen in just as long. Last time he saw it, it was on base and he left Bob with the keys. He was the only one to be trusted.

“I pulled some strings.” She smiles wildly, “I did debate bringing a boombox to hold up over my head and play Last Christmas.”

He can’t help but throw his head back in a laugh.

“And why didn’t you?” He grins, taking another step closer to box her in against the hood. He needs to remember there are families around because the way she runs her hands up his chest has him ready to mount her then and there.

“They’re real heavy, baby.” She gives his arms a good squeeze for emphasis, “I’ll leave that for you and all those muscles for our next big gesture.”

“Noted.”

“You wanna open your gift early?” She asks, taking on her infamously wicked grin. He looks down her chest and can see a hint of red ribbon. It has to be the same set she took pictures in, pictures he became very familiar over the last twelve months. The pictures now well worn, but it doesn’t matter now that the real thing is back in his arms.

“God, I love you.” He sighs into her neck and she chuckles. It’s the first time she’s heard the words directly from his lips. Not in an email or the phone, directly from him.

“I love you, too.” She smiles, the soft look in her eyes that he only gets is fully on display, “Am I a bad girlfriend if I say I don’t want our first time back together to be special, and I’d rather you rail me in the car the second we’re out of view?”

“How fast can you get in the car?”

[charliemwrites]

it is my borfday. I am now 20 whole years. So I ask: 1fur1 reaction to readers borfday? I have 1fur1 thoughts but they aren't ready yet... They're still cooking

Happy Borfday!!!!! Two decades 🎉🎉

Okay just for you, bean - I’ll make it a full part too, even. This is very fluffy up until the end when it gets just a hint of spice.

(No human boys in this one, sorry!)

You haven’t said a word about it all week - and why would you? You live alone with three dogs. It’s not like they care that it’s your birthday; or even understand what time is, really. (Except for dinner time of course.)

But the day of your birthday dawns, a little rainy. You let yourself sleep in a bit, mumbling five more minutes three times in a row when Ghost nudges impatiently at your cheek.

Eventually you do get up though, giving each of your boys a crooning “good morning” and laying kisses on their precious heads. You stumble to the kitchen to start your coffee, even pull out the fancy beans you reserve for special occasions. While it’s brewing, you start gearing up the boys for their morning potty. The precipitation is mostly mist right now, but you’d rather them not smell like wet dog.

You’re trying to belt a wiggly, impatient Johnny in when your phone rings. Huffing, you tap at the speaker icon and try to wrestle the stupid hood over his big-ass ears.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart!” your mom trills through the phone.

At the noise, Johnny thankfully goes still. You finish securing his raincoat and turn to Konig. Thankfully, he’s much more cooperative about getting dressed - even if he takes every opportunity to lick your face.

“Uh, thanks,” you answer. Honestly, you were hoping she’d forget.

“What are you doing today to celebrate? Going out with friends? Maybe a date…?”

You roll your eyes as you finish adjusting Konig’s (custom) raincoat.

“Definitely not. I was just gonna stay in, order some food, drink some wine…”

You haven’t even finished before your mother is protesting.

“No, no, no, you need to do something special! Not every day is your birthday.”

And thank fuck for that, you think, shaking your head.

“It’s not that big a deal,” you insist. The boys crowd as you lead the way to the back door and prop it open. They seem oddly reluctant to leave your side. You assume it’s the rain and shoo them off, your mother still on speaker.

“Well if you won’t do anything, I will.”

“Ma, you really don’t need to—“

“Dinner will be at 6:30. Don’t be late!”

And she hangs up. You groan, run a hand down your face. Well. At least it’s only dinner. You can still do the rest of your plans.

“Boys!” you call, noting that they’re mostly just congregating at the edge of the yard. They instantly return to your side, even Johnny - who has a tendency to make you chase him in the rain.

They each file inside, sit and behave while you remove their raincoats and hang them to dry. As usual, they follow and crowd while you make up your coffee. Add a bit of whiskey just for fun; you won’t need to drive for a while.

The boys climb onto the couch with you, happily arranging themselves in a warm circle. Konig at your back like a living pillow. Johnny on your right, head in your lap. Ghost just in front, pressed against your shins and warming your feet.

You settle in with a contented sigh and sip your coffee. Even put on a show you’ve been meaning to get to.

Midway through the episode, Ghost slips off the couch and slinks off. You notice in the back of your mind, but he tends to be the moodiest of your boys and figure he just wants some alone time.

When he comes back, you hum at him, kissing his muzzle as he takes your other side. As the next episode is loading, Johnny hops down.

“Biiiiig stretch,” you coo, grinning as his back legs extend. He wags, licks your hand in parting, and trots off. You hear the doggy door clatter, figure he didn’t do all his business after all.

About an hour later, the doorbell chimes. You jump, but… the boys are oddly quiet. Usually they’d be rioting that someone dares come to the door. This time, though alert, not so much as a growl.

Put off, you pad to the door and check the peephole. Just a delivery man with a… frankly monstrous bouquet.

You open the door, prepared to tell him that he’s made a mistake. But he says your name and address and tells you happy birthday, gently handing it over.

You blink as he saunters back to the truck, almost don’t notice Ghost standing sentinel right beside you.

“Huh,” you muse, finding him watching you. “Who d’you think ordered me flowers?”

He makes a little “ruff” noise. You snort and close the door. It’s a beautiful arrangement, you must admit. All your favorites. It even came in a vase!

You inhale the sweet scent and sigh, unable to keep from smiling. Usually you think flower arrangements are a bit silly, so expensive for something that will last so little time. But it’s been ages since you last got one and someone clearly put thought into it.

You offer each of the pups a sniff, laughing when Konig sneezes a bit. You set the vase on the kitchen counter where it won’t become a casualty of any enthusiastic tails and you’ll get to look at it regularly. Try to look for a card but there isn’t one.

Hopefully, whoever sent it will reveal themselves by asking if you like it.

You settle on the couch again with a lingering smile, scratching at Ghost’s ears when he presses his face against your shoulder.

Another hour passes in peace when there’s another knock at the door. Again, the dogs stay eerily quiet. This time, you’re greeted with a huge bag of items.

You unpack it on the couch, Johnny sitting by your knee. A new plush blanket, a pretty mug, a video game you’ve heard good things about, the next book on your reading list, your favorite candies, and even an expensive new pair of headphones (since Johnny ruined your last ones).

You let him sniff curiously at each item, amused by his involvement in your gift unwrapping.

“Wow,” you breathe, staring at your pile of gifts. “This is more than I’ve gotten in years. I don’t even know what to do with it all.”

You start by eating some of the candies. Johnny’s tail wags furiously the entire time, even when you remind him that candy is Not For Him.

At some point in all the craziness, Konig’s scurried off somewhere. Not surprising, you figure. All the guests must have made him shy. He’s not a fan of really anyone but you.

Eventually he returns, though, and you’re sure to welcome him back with praises and kisses before he climbs into his spot. You happily return to your show, scratching absently at your snuggly pack.

Just around noon, there’s one last knock at the door. Your favorite takeout place, including a box of the really good German pastries that you never let yourself get more than once every other week. Fresh baked too!

You hum happily as you eat, wishing you knew who to thank for it.

“I feel utterly spoiled,” you laugh as you save the rest of the pastries for later. “I definitely don’t deserve all this.”

A deep bark nearly startles you. Konig. He hardly ever makes a peep!

“Listen to you, baby!” you coo, wiggling your fingers to entice him closer. He comes to your side instantly, chin on your stomach, staring up at you with big mismatched eyes. “Such a lovely voice. Ich liebe dich, Herr Konig.”

He wags happily at you, a big, silly canine grin on his face. When you duck down to hug him, he leaves kisses all over your face and neck.

By evening, you’re in a good enough mood that you’re not completely dreading the visit to your parents’ house. You get dressed, kiss each of your boys goodbye, and leave.

It’s not… bad per se. Sure, your mom makes your sister’s favorite meal, and your dad doesn’t even realize why you’re there at first. Your sister’s husband also keeps making weird comments about you being single and your biological “clock” but—

Well, you’re just there for dinner. At least your mom made homemade cookies; a classic you’ve always enjoyed. But not even that is enough to make you stay longer than absolutely necessary, making your excuses that Konig still gets separation anxiety.

The drive home is long and you feel exhausted from putting on the “grateful daughter” song and dance. When you pull up to the house, though, you perk up when you see another package.

It’s a… basket? You carry it inside, too dark to see what it is on the porch. Immediately greeted by the boys, you don’t get a chance to look at it at first. But once you do…

It’s a self care basket, you think. A ridiculously nice bottle of wine, a bath bomb, body cream, sugar scrub… a bottle of the lube you always use. New lingerie. A toy. Not just any toy either. One you’ve been putting off buying because it’s close to a hundred pounds and you’ve got three big boys to feed.

At first you think it’s your ex but…. No. No, everything in this basket is things you’d pick for yourself. Things he never knew you well enough to buy. And he’s too cheap besides - and too much of a stuck up dick to ever dream of patronizing adult toys.

You hesitate over it. But….. well, you’ve already brought it inside. Doesn’t matter if you use any of it or not; and it’s stupid to let it go to waste.

So you feed the dogs and wander to your room.

And it. Is. Decadent.

You linger in the bathtub for way too long, giggling at the sparkles in the water, sipping wine and nibbling on German pastries. Even sacrificed one of the roses from the bouquet to let the petals float in the water. Start the first couple chapters of your birthday book, sigh and talk nonsense to your boys, all of them lingering in the doorway but behaving.

And when you finally get to bed, you run the battery out achieving your “birthday orgasms”. (Remain shockingly uninterrupted by any of the boys.)

Sometime before midnight your dream of gentle hands cleaning you up, pressing kisses everywhere. Voices whispering “love you” and “happy birthday”.

It’s the best one to date.

(Again, happy borfday!! I love you and I hope this was a good gift 💕)

Main Story | Konig pt.2 | Price pt.1

Masterlist

[literaryslapshot]

LUNCH ⎯ C. Berzatto

carmen interviews a new girl for the recent waitressing job at the bear, and she's been the recent reason for his journal entries the past two weeks.

carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings: sexual themes (18+ MDNI), cuss words, carmen being super whipped but also kind of a perv, reader is kind of a ditz but so am i, reader has tats because i do too, reader also doesnt have much dialogue bc it's mostly from his pov.

word count: 1k

a/n: not really based off any specific episode or season in the series. i just love carmy so much <3

"Chef i need you to take over for at least an hour, i got an interview in 10." Carmen instructed Sydney, walking into the office as the kitchen staff began to prepare for open. The staff- mainly Sydney, Richie, and Carmen desperately needed a waiter in house. With how busy the restaurant was beginning to get they needed more than Nat out there.

"Are you gonna hire her?" Sydney asked; Carmen had briefed her about the applicant a day prior. He sat down, refreshing himself on the resume before meeting with her.

"Well she's the only applicant so far, so I don't really think I have a choice chef," before he could finish his thought he heard the chime of the entrance door. Glancing down at the time it read 10:51.

Early, off to a good start, he said to himself quietly. He gave one puff of cologne on his neck to try and musk the smell of kitchen before going out into the front of house to start the interview. Carmen forgot how to breathe for just a few seconds when he saw her- easily the most beautiful person he's seen walk in his restaurant.

"Um- Hi I'm Carmen Berzatto, the owner, you must be Y/N?" He introduces through a deep breath and a shaky hand that he extends. She takes it with a smile, following his lead. The soft taps of her high top converse against the tile floor, the flow of her skirt twirling as she turns in front of him slightly. It's exhilarating.

"Can I get you something to drink before we start? Water, a soda, coffee?" He offers, standing tall next to the table side. She grins and shakes her head denying his offer, her sweet sounding voice making butterflies flutter around in his stomach. That hasn't happened in a while.

They make small talk for a little while, Carmen asking pre-thought out ice breakers before getting to the real questions. But if he's honest with himself he isn't even listening to her answers. He's too focused on the way her lips move and how she purses her lips when she thinks about an answer.

He's taken great notice of the tattoos she has on her arms, in similar places to his own, all black outlined like his too. one is written in french, he assumes, right above her wrist on her arm. One is two small birds on the inside of her forearm. He wants to pause the interview just to talk about what they all mean to her. Partially because he wants to hear her voice for the rest of his life. He wants to press record on his phone and listen to her talk about whatever she wants to, her voice is that angelic.

"Can I ask you what the tattoo on your hand means?" she asked and he thought he was going to faint because she grabbed ahold of his hand gently to get a better look at it. She giggled when she got a better look at the artwork.

"It's to remind me to be careful when I chop vegetables, essentially," Carmen explained with a chuckle. "What does the one on your wrist mean?"

"Terre à terre, down to earth. I dont want to stray too far from who I was raised to be, so that's a reminder. I also have a couple more in french- my grandmother was french so I have a lot of french things in my life." She pulls up the sleeve of her shirt to reveal another tattoo, "étoile filante, shooting star. The first time I saw a shooting star was on my sixteenth birthday, my worst birthday actually."

He reminded himself to close his mouth because he knew he was about to start drooling, hearing the way her silky voice sounded even better in a foreign language.

He breezed through the interview, Natalie insisting that even though there are no other applicants and she'll probably get the job, do it the right way. "I'll give you a call by the end of the week, Y/N. It was a pleasure having you today." He shows her out of the restaurant, walking her to her car for safety, of course."

When Carmen got back inside, before he got to joining the team in prepping for the lunch crowd he pulled out his journal that he started to carry with him. It was full of various things: different dinner ideas to try out on the menu for a special, addresses, phone numbers, and other journal entries. he's made a habit of journal three times a week and he has a feeling he's going to be doing it a lot more with Y/N joining the team.

-

I could eat that girl for lunch. She smelled sweet like fuckin brownies or something, rich and delicious. Her tattoos, her gold necklaces, her smile, her skirt. I feel like a perv but god i know her skin would be so soft, and she'd have the best blind reactions to recipes, and i bet she'd taste good too. I'm closing the applications, this Y/N chick is gonna be the death of me.

-

"Hi Y/N, this is Carmen from The Bear, how're you?" he couldn't even wait a full 24 hours before he hired her. Embarrassing. "I just wanted to call and let you know that we're offering you the job if you are still interested." He bit the cap of his pen with a grin hearing her cheer and laugh on the other side of the phone. "Yea- yeah that's great, listen could you start Monday? I'll get you trained n'all that."

Carmen ends the phone call and moves some papers around on his desk, printing the papers for Y/N and putting them in her folder. He couldn’t stop grinning like a kid from hearing her excited voice over the phone.

Instantly he’s thinking of a million things to write in his journal about her. But he doesn’t have time, he needs to prep the special for tonights dinner service before anything else. Carmen will be thinking of her, however. Thinking of how soft her hands must be, or how sweet her chapstick tastes. He'll think of how it'll be nice to have her around, not just the help but to have someone with a softer tone around the place, too.

He thinks about Y/N while making glaze, mixing everything together to get that perfect spicy honey taste, he's imagining how her face lights up when she laughs. He doesn't even really know her yet but he's already making up what a first date would be like. He'd take her out for coffee, go see a movie, then go for a walk. But not too late, though. Even if she might be a night owl it's still inappropriate to keep a girl out past ten, at least that's what he read in some magazine a long time ago.

"Chef you ready to prep the team for tonight?" Sydney asked, interrupting his thoughts. He stumbled, dropping the spoon into the bowl and biting his tongue.

"Fuck- yeah, yeah I am."

-

"'M gonna go over the menu with you, if m'goin too fast then stop me." He pulls up a chair and tucks his hair behind his ears. Setting the laminated piece of paper in front of her, explaining each dish to her in firm detail. Carmen watches as her french tip acrylic nails trace along the menu, guiding along the words that he says from memory.

She's impressed, shocked even that he came up with this himself. She jokes that she can't cook and it gains a laugh from him.

"I'll teach you a few things, if ya want." He didn't mean for it to come out sounding like he was hitting on her...but secretly he was. Since when was he that slick with words?

-

I can't stop thinking about her. She's on my mind all the fuckin' time. She smelled really good, must have been her shampoo. I would love to just sit with her there, not sexually. Just be. I bet she's really calm and chill. I'd love to get ready with her in the mornings, again not sexually. To spend time, to laugh, to talk. I could eat that girl for lunch.

-

When Carmen walks into the front he catches Y/N taking pictures in the mirror by the entrance. He chuckles, watching her pose and smile. She turns around and gasps, cheeks getting darker when she realizes she's gotten caught.

"Sorry, the mirror is just so aesthetic."

"That? Um, okay? Guess we have different opinions of what aesthetic is." Carmen guides her to the back counter, teaching her how to count inventory of everything.

He feels out of place- no, he feels gross when he watches her bend down. He sees a peek of white lace stick out from the band of her jeans and he knows he shouldn't stare, but he can't help his mind from wandering. He wanders about what other types of underwear she might have, if she has any special ones, what they'd feel like wrapped-

"Carmen!" Sydney snaps him out of his daydream. "Sorry to interrupt, but you have a phone call from the AC guy." He's pulled away, for the better, but he knows he's going to write about this as soon as he gets the chance.

-

I'm interested in more than just being her boss. I could eat her alive, i'd let her take a seat on me wherever she wants for however long she wants. She'd taste like....like sweet watermelons on a sunny summer day. Yeah, something like that. She can't be real can she? I don't know how long I can keep acting professional. I just know she'd be the one for me.

・。♡.・゜✭・.・✫・゜✭・。. ♡・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜♡・。

feedback | masterlist

[mandarinmoons]

hi! could I maybe request a spencer x reader where reader is a college student (she's like 20 something) and her exams are coming up and she's really struggling with stress and anxiety and low self esteem and no motivation and in the process shuts spencer off but spencer is a very stubborn and caring boyfriend and tries to help her?

have a great day love! 🫶🏻

Countless papers and empty cups of coffee littered your desk as you were sitting, slouched in your chair. You’d lost count of what time it was, the last thing you remember was that it was around 8:30 in the morning when you woke up, had some toast for breakfast and dove into your studies. Now, the sun was setting and your stomach was aching because of how empty it was and yet you still stayed in the exact same position, scanning your notes and trying to memorize every detail.

You were so deep in your studies that you didn’t hear your boyfriend Spencer let himself in. Spencer looked over your apartment and saw how unlived it looked. Usually your TV would be on with a random show playing in the background and the smell of your favorite candle filling the air, but it was dead silent and no hint of magnolia was sensed anywhere.

As he walked into the kitchen he barely saw any dishes in the sink which made him concerned. Spencer knew that you were working hard on preparing for your final exams, but seeing you not taking the time to take care of yourself worried him deeply.

Spencer walked to your bedroom and sighed when he saw you resting your head on your desk, head nestled between your arms.

“Sweetheart…”,

He made his way to you and rested his hand on your head, his thumb caressing over your hair. The act of affection awoke you and you stayed put as you let Spencer comfort you.

“I think you’ve been working too much.”

“I’m okay.”

Spencer crouched down to your level and brushed the hair out of your face, “Your face says otherwise.”

You rolled your eyes at his words and a light chuckle left his lips. Spencer was always worried about your well being and especially for the past few weeks. You had a habit of throwing yourself into your work and giving it your all, but in the process you’d forget to take care of your basic everyday needs and Spencer was adamant about reminding you of the smallest of tasks, from brushing your teeth to drinking enough water.

“Spencer, I’m alright. You don’t have to keep checking up on me.”

Spencer wanted to believe you, but the tears in the corners of your eyes told a different story.

“I’m fine Spence, really,” the tears poured down your face before you had a chance to hide them, your throat burning as you tried to hold back a cry.

Feeling ashamed, you wiped at your cheeks harshly and Spencer pulled you tight into his chest, one hand still caressing your head while the other one rested on your back.

Sobs racked through your body as all the pent up stress finally had a chance to be let out, shaking from anxiety and hiccups being choked out.

After some time, your cries calmed down and you felt your body go limp in Spencer’s arms, as the crying had exhausted you to the point where you thought you would fall asleep right then and there.

Before you had a chance to let the exhaustion consume you, you felt Spencer pick you up and lay you down on your bed. He crawled down next to you and brushed his thumb over the red streaks across your cheeks. He looked so sad, seeing how your state of being affected him so much made you feel guilty. Why couldn’t you have taken more breaks? Spencer was probably scolding you inside his head for skipping lunch so many times.

“I’m not mad at you, you know.”

“You’re not?”

Spencer shook his head and rubbed his thumb over your temple, “I could never be mad at you.”

Another set of tears were burning your eyes as you took in his words. Before they had a chance to spill over, Spencer nuzzled closer and kissed your cheek a few times causing you to giggle.

“I hope you know you’re not getting rid of me so easily.”

“I know.”

“Good, now,” Spencer pulled you close into his chest, the smell of his cologne instantly putting you at ease. It's as if the anxiety attack you experienced not too long ago never even happened.

“I want you to stay put for the next hour or so, just rest and then later we’re going to take a bath and have a nice dinner, how does that sound?”

“That sounds amazing,” your face was already tucked into the crook of his neck, feeling Spencer squirm lightly as your breath tickled his neck.

It always amused you how sensitive he was and you were trying your best not to place a kiss to the skin of his neck as you knew he’d erupt into laughter, a sound that easily made even the worst days brighter, but you decided not to tease him, for now at least.

What was supposed to be an hour of cuddling, turned into both of you waking up at 9 PM, dazed and not knowing what planet either of you were on.

Seeing that it was a little too late to prepare dinner at this time at night, you both settled on frying some eggs & bacon and Spencer cut up some fruit for the side, as well as telling you some fun facts about them.

“Did you know that bananas are full of several types of antioxidants that are linked to reduced risk of heart disease and macular degeneration?”

“I do now.”

As you finished eating, Spencer wouldn’t let you go back to sleep until you had a shower. You huffed and got in the shower, letting the warm water run down your body as you lathered your loofah in soap.

Walking out of the bathroom clean & fresh, you walked to your bedroom and a gasp left your lips as you took in the sight in front of you.

The room was lit up with candles, the signature scent of magnolia in the air. The bed was covered in multiple pillows and blankets, making it the coziest spot you’ve seen in a while, while the papers on your desk were organized into neat stacks.

“How’re you feeling?”

Turning your head, Spencer walked in and held two mugs, the smell of peppermint emanating from them. Peppermint tea, once again, one of your favorites.

“A lot better now, thanks,” Spencer handed you the mug as the both of you sat on the edge of the bed.

“Y/N, you can’t keep going on like this.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

Your eyes settled on the mug in your hands as Spencer’s hand found its spot on your lower back again.

“Don’t be sorry, just try to tell me when you need some help, okay?”

“I will.”

“Good.”

Spencer pressed his lips to your forehead in a kiss before resting his own forehead against yours, as a simple act of intimacy that meant the whole world.

“Now c’mon, let’s have our tea before it gets cold.”

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[devilfic]

part four to this series

cw: 18+ mdni, mentions of blood drinking, fantasizing about biting, miguel’s got a thing for “sir”, EXTREMELY suggestive, no explicit smut just miguel losing his mind. this is the horniest one yet.. sorry!

miguel cannot get the taste of you out of his mind. it hadn’t been the part of you he’d wanted, the part of you that overwhelmed him, but it had been close. throughout the day he’d catch himself licking behind his fangs even though he’d since flushed his mouth clean of you. sometimes, he’d nick his tongue on his canine and the taste of his own blood would remind him of you again.

jessica asked about the gauze on your arm while miguel was in the room and you’d had a quick response, though not one that would spare him the knowing look from his (other) right-hand woman, “oh, miguel and I were playing too hard.”

sure enough, jessica drew’s eyes narrow behind her glasses. she even pushes them up into the crown of curls and coils on her head so her disappointment really gets across, “aren’t you a little too old to be rough-housing, miguel?”

if it were just that, miguel could confidently say it was an accident. if this had been about the cut on your eye that had healed over weeks before, there’d be honest guilt on his face when he defended himself. but no, you had asked. you’d practically put your arm in his mouth. you’d asked for him to hurt you, and you’d liked it.

and he’d liked it too. he didn’t know if he could hide that part.

before he can think of what to say, you chime in, “he’s always careful. it was my fault this time.”

“I don’t get why you two have to fight all the time. can’t you try, I dunno, healing yoga?”

miguel tried to picture himself in a downward dog pose and almost started laughing. from the flicker of mirth across your features, you seemed to be picturing the same thing. then he accidentally pictured you in that pose, pictured himself standing behind you, pictured taking your waist in his claws and crouching over you to sink his teeth into your shoulder so he could taste you there, too.

he digs his heels into the floor to rid himself of the image. his voice is strained as he replies, “it was their idea. can’t help that it works.”

jessica is far too exhausted with life as a new mother to try to understand that. she waves a hand, her white flag for the conversation, “whatever. I just came to borrow your assistant for the day. is that alright with you?”

lyla materializes on miguel’s shoulder, one holographic leg crossed over the other, “who, moi?”

“no thanks, tinkerbell. I need a person. preferably with some muscle.”

miguel would find that funny but all he can think to ask is, “why?” but you’re already standing up and following jessica to the doors of his office. he feels a sudden queasiness at the thought of not seeing you for the rest of the day. the day itself had just started. his morning coffee hadn’t even gone cold.

he hadn’t been left alone without you since you’d started here. now, he’d spend the whole day alone?—lyla sings a goodbye next to his ear—with just lyla?

he stands, abruptly, making his desk shake and shift a few inches. the sound is enough to stop the two of you in your tracks. your eyes bore into his own, curious, and he feels silly like the first day you’d caught him mid-tantrum. he means to sound intimidating and authoritative, but his voice can’t help the weakness when he looks at you, “I didn’t say yes.”

jessica’s hard look is almost enough to make him sit back down.

but you smile, tilt your head to the side, turn fully to him, “sorry. can I go, mr. o’hara?”

in truth, you didn’t need to ask him. but he didn’t know what else he’d expected when he objected like that. he wanted to hear it. he’d wanted to hear you ask for permission, or better yet refuse jessica altogether. he wanted you to sit back down across the desk from him and crack jokes at his expense, tease him and cackle even though he was the butt of the joke  every single time. he wanted you to offer up a mini spar session after he came back from hunting down anomalies again just to get the adrenaline out of his system. he wanted you to pin him down and win, again, so he could flip you on your back when you least expected it and he could sink his teeth into your shoulder so he could taste you there, too-

miguel clears his throat and sits back down, painfully aware of where his blood was flowing to now. he waved a hand, murmured something noncommittal, but you’d really put the nails in his coffin. you bowed at the waist, smug like you always were when he was watching, and said in none too innocent of a tone, “thank you, sir.” and left.

miguel watched the doors shut. his ears tuned into the sound of jessica’s voice and yours mingling down the hallway, further and further away. he waited until you two were so far out of earshot that he couldn’t tell your mumble apart from the next spider’s. and then, he croaked out lyla’s name.

“yes?” she dragged out her response, the knowing, teasing lilt to her voice was more grating on his wound nerves than usual.

“lock the doors to my office, please. and turn off the lights.” his voice was a hair above a whisper. lyla did as told and quietly. “send the… send the society a message that I won’t be in for the next two hours.”

“shall I copy miss drew, too?”

“yes.”

“and… anyone else?”

miguel rests his forehead against his fist, taking even breaths in and out. he could feel the talons beneath his skin beginning to extend. his breath shudders, “yes.”

lyla hums, “anything else, miguel?”

“take a break for the afternoon.”

he can’t see her and he doesn’t want to see her (not right now, anytime but now) but he knows her code inside out, knows she’s questioning him. “that’s a first. got some business to take care of?” his answer is but a low, embarrassed growl, and that’s enough to send her off laughing into cyberspace.

a beat passes, then two. it’s quiet all the way up here in his office without the sounds of the other spider-people or lyla or jessica or you.

thinking about you brings back those images from earlier and when he bites into his clenched fist, he feels the sharp pain of his fangs breaking skin. the pain distracts him for all of two seconds and then he’s thinking of you on top of him, holding your arm out for him to bite you, except it’s your throat this time. you’re hovering over him, the smell at your neck and the bob of your swallowing throat overwhelm him.

you’re sitting on his lap in this very chair, hands clasped at his shoulders or gripping the arm rests or tied together behind his head as you lean in, press yourself flush against him, and bare your throat to him. he’d never wanted to bite anyone that wasn’t a threat to him, never wanted to taste the warmth of their blood as it couldn’t help but trickle onto his tongue, never wanted to hear and feel the guttural moan from you as you sink down on him.

“sir”. you’d called him “sir”. mr. o’hara, you’d done that before, but never sir. a wet and wild whine leaves his throat when he remembers how your voice wrapped around it.

before he goes any further, he sucks in a breath and removes his fist from between his teeth, collecting himself enough to summon lyla once more. the AI didn’t even bother to look in his direction when she appeared on the surface of his desk, her fingers swiping at some book she’d pulled up in front of her. this next “yes?” was just as dragged out, just as knowing, just as teasing.

“three hours.” miguel’s voice cracks out. lyla fades into thin air with a single, three-fingered salute.

part five

[takumiraine]

Once Upon A Time chapter 4

<first> <prev> <next>

Danny should avoid him, because of his father. Danny should just brush him off and let him drown. Danny should keep his distance from anyone and everyone, but especially him.

Danny was never the best at doing what he should do, and worse, he was hungry.

—-

The cafe on campus was quaint, filled with light chatter and Jason was hating every second of it. Danny showed up just as he said he would, which meant he met Jason there, the man having already taken a back corner table for them. Danny walked up and set his books down. Jason had to wonder, did the kid not have a backpack?

“Any idea what you want?” Jason asked instead, standing. Danny looked over to the menu, eyes skimming it over.

“Uh… burger and fries okay?” Danny seemed uncomfortable. Jason would feel bad if it didn’t put him at the tactical advantage.

Jason nodded at his request. “The works?”

“Please.” Danny bit his lip and Jason waited, while he worked up the nerve for something, “and a coffee? Black?” Was that it? Jason almost rolled his eyes.

“Sure thing.” Jason went off to place the order and leave a hefty tip, because one, he wanted someone to bring it out and two he wasn’t that kind of asshole. He came back and sat on the chair he had been occupying, back to the corner, and resisted the urge to spread out.

Jason the Red Hood man-spreaded, Jason Todd-Wayne did not.

So he sat. And he rested his forearms on the table. “You do not need to look so nervous Danny.” Jason tried for the patented Wayne smile, certain he was coming up short.

“Huh…?” Danny turned to look at him, “oh, sorry. Long day.” The young man raked his fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face. Jason knew it was a lie, but it seemed a familiar one. Danny tried to position himself so he could have the most visibility while drawing the least attention to himself. The position of a man hunted or used to being ambushed.

Danny refocused his attention after a moment, and looked at Jason, tilting his head slightly. “I hope it wasn’t a drain on your day to wait for me.” Jason waved his hand in response, the perfect practiced rich-bitch wave he hated.

“Nah, my friend works in the library on days when she doesn’t have class. I bothered her.” Danny seemed to relax a bit at the words.

“Oh good. I know I’m like… doing this for you, but…”

Jason cut him off there, turning the train of thought. “Speaking of, have you thought about what you want to be paid?”

“Oh… uh… not really. Most campus jobs make minimum wage right? Is that cool?” Jason wanted to throw Tim at this guy to teach him business sense in negotiation. If he really was 19, what had happened his whole life to make him feel like he needed to be invisible, while also walking away with a literal knife to the stomach and show up to class the next day?

“Most campus jobs do make minimum wage,” Jason agreed, “but nobody in my family is in the habit of paying just that. Just because I think my father is…. Well, words not fit for the polite company he insists I keep, doesn’t mean I’m going to stiff someone out of a well earned wage just to spite him. Twenty an hour is the lowest I’ll go.” He grinned now, all teeth, and something in him got a sick little thrill at watching Danny go even paler at the amount of money.

“Are you sure?” Danny asked, as their food and drinks were brought to them on a brown plastic tray.

“Say yes Dan. It’s a good deal.” Jason offered his hand to shake over the food.

Danny looked like he was offering his soul to the devil as Jason heard the man’s stomach rumble. “Okay. Yes.” Danny took his hand, and while the hand was ice cold, Danny shook with a surprisingly firm grip. Maybe the kid had a spine after all.

“Good. Now dig in,” Jason said after they parted. He picked up a fry off of his own plate and bit it, watching Danny with a sort of idle curiosity, as the boy - no, young man, went about his food with a carefully controlled gusto. Jason couldn’t help but wonder when the last time Danny ate was. He made a mental note to have Oracle check where he lived so he could do some recon later.

By the time dinner was finished, Danny seemed much more alive. His skin seemed to have better color, his eyes seemed more bright, and his energy was up. The kid was definitely going hungry if those changes were so immediate. Since Danny was scrawny, he assumed it wasn’t a new problem.

“So what makes math so difficult for you?” He asked, wiping his mouth and tilting his head. The question was blunt, but there was no open malice behind those bright blue eyes. The same kind of blue as his own when he wasn’t pit mad.

Jason shrugged. “Not really sure. It’s always been my weakest subject.” Not a lie. “Beyond money, my brain doesn’t seem to care.” Half a lie, but plays into the rags to rich bitch stereotype.

“I get that. I told you about me and literature right? For me it seems like there’s poetry in the way the math just… works.” Danny paused then, skin flushing red. “Sorry, that was…. Really stupid.”

In another life, Jason would have really liked this kid he thinks.

“No, not at all. Whoever told you your insights weren’t good obviously never stopped to listen to you.” Was he flirting? Should he be flirting? He flirted to maintain a cover or gain intel all the time. That’s all this was.

He almost missed the way Danny’s skin flushed deeper, from his ears down his neck. Almost.

“Well…. You’re in the minority then.” It came out a little bitter. He watched Danny take a breath and “Anyways.” Danny waved a hand, banishing the thought and something serious took over his expression instead. “I’m not going to take it easy on you just because you’re paying me. I expect you to put in the work too.”

Jason was right, the guy did have a spine. “Sure thing.” He waved his hand and stood, grabbing his bag and the tray. Danny stood and grabbed his books too. “Library?”

“Library.” Danny agreed.

Over the next week Jason was “surprised” to find out that they had three classes together. Math, Lit and Comp and History. All three remedial, and really the only one that Danny seemed borderline to deserve was the Introduction to Literature and Composition course. What he was genuinely surprised to find was that he enjoyed spending the combined nine hours of classes a week with the kid. Although in ‘basic mathematic principles’ Danny was quiet and allowed Jason to focus so they could work on their tutoring more effectively, in their history and English classes Danny was witty and sarcastic. A second thing he had noticed was that now that the tutoring sessions were happening, an hour, sometimes more, after every class, to make sure he ‘got it’, Danny was almost always eating.

Jason had learned that Danny’s ‘big life goal’ was a roof over his head, where his friends and family could visit or stay as they liked and room to tinker. A job that let him help people.

It was that information that made Jason fully convinced that even though he hated the Justice League with a viciousness that most rogues would balk at, for reasons he had yet to disclose, Danny was not really likely to become a rogue unless something big happened.

He should stop the college charade now. It was no longer needed for recon, and the other birds were starting to get suspicious. Bruce was looking at him differently too now. Something like how he used to.

A pen tapped on his notebook and Jason brought his attention back. Danny didn’t say anything, or even look at him, he was too busy sketching what looked like a circuit board in a secondary notebook. Jason quickly wrote down the notes before the slide changed, not looking forward to a disappointed look from his tutor.

Surprisingly, he ran into Danny as Red Hood once more that week. He was doing surveillance on a rooftop, when a sound caught his attention from the fire escape. Jason dipped back into the shadows and around the concrete and brick entrance from inside the building as a familiar mass of unruly black hair appeared and Danny hauled himself up with a surprising amount of finesse for someone who didn’t look muscular in the slightest.

“Damn it. Where’d you go guy? I thought I saw you land here.” Danny grumbled to himself, hands on his hips as he looked around “stupid not a bat disappearing just like the real ones…” While Jason was certain that he wasn’t meant to hear that, he finished his route and appeared almost behind Danny.

“What do you need?” He asked, thankful for the voice modulator as he knew Danny would have recognized his voice by now even if muffled by a helmet.

As it was, Danny startled with a yelp, swinging around and aiming a punch right for his solar plexus. Jason caught his wrist with practiced ease. “Fuck! Don’t scare a guy like that!” Danny yanked his arm back in a way that was meant to break unpracticed holds. Clever.

Jason waited while the kid caught his breath. “Well?”

“What? Oh. Uh. The guy. That…” Danny mimed the stabbing. “Is he okay?”

“Checked himself into the hospital about two hours later. He’s fine.” Oracle’s voice sounded in his ear. He nodded.

“Good, good…” Danny pushed his hair out of his eyes again, looking up at Jason through his helmet. Jason was hit with the disconcerting thought that somehow Danny was seeing through the bullet resistant one way visor. “Um… do you need the knife back? Or…. Should I….keep….it….? Or dump it? What’s…. I don’t know the protocol here, but I think ‘hey officer I was stabbed with this knife and the not-a-bat down in Crime Alley beat him up and then I accidentally stole it’ is a bad one.”

Jason snorted at the rambling, while Oracle laughed in his ear. “Even static filled he seems hilarious. I know why you like him.” He was going to kill Babs next time he saw her. “Knowing what he looks like doesn’t hurt either.”

“I can take it for you.” Jason said instead.

“Great! Wait here.” Danny turned and hopped back over the edge of the fire escape with the ease of someone who had years of training or practice.

“Is he like this all the time?” Babs asked, and Jason shrugged.

“Off and on.” Jason answered, sliding back down the fire escape completely silently as opposed to the obnoxious clatter Danny had made. He had seen and heard Danny move silently, like in the library, even on those creaky metal ladders for the top of the stacks, but he just assumed this was some sort of half assed survival mechanism.

Danny appeared again a few minutes later, with the knife wrapped in a towel in a bag. “I didn’t know how you wanted it so…” like Danny was bringing him coffee or ordering a pizza. Jason opened the bag and took the knife out, examining it.

“Good job kid. Now go home. It’s late.” It was barely ten. But he knew the Alley got more dangerous the later it got.

“Yeah. Okay.” Danny turned.

“Red Hood.”

Danny turned back. “What?”

“My name. Not-a-Bat isn’t as effective at striking fear into the enemy.”

Danny scoffed some. “I don’t need to use you as a shield.”

Jason held up the knife. Danny crossed his arms. “that was under control.”

“Right.”

“It was.”

Jason shook his head and pulled out his grapnel, firing it into the distance. As he swung off he had more questions about Danny than he was sure he would ever have answers.

[love-that-we-were-in]

betting on all three for us two

pairing: frat!luke castellan x reader summary: you think you like being a little more friendly and a little less competition with luke castellan this year. a sequel to this fic word count: 3.1k warnings: none

author's note: frat luke my dearly beloved loser son who studies pre-med this is for you you know who you are i love you

1. 

The fall semester comes at you faster than you’d like, this rapid change from a golden summer to the crisp air of being back on campus. You’re rooming with someone from an old anthropology elective you took, Silena finally moving into her sorority house. It should feel weirder, how everything has changed since spring break. 

You take the opportunity to build new habits. Early runs, no caffeine after 2pm. Little things that make the day go a tiny bit faster, building blocks to fit around your class schedule. Silena schedules weekly lunches for the three of you and there’s this gravity to it all that you want to study. 

It had been nice to be home for a few months. Your mom had missed having you there, being able to show you the new flowers she planted, how the lemon tree in the yard is twisting weirdly. Board games and family dinners and friends who never left your town. Being back home was resetting. Being back on campus was restarting.

Lee catches you as you leave the gym, offering to walk you to class if you’re heading in that direction. You smile, telling him that you have a late start and pretend he doesn’t frown when your phone buzzes. He mentions that he’s thinking of starting a study group for one of your classes and you tell him you’ll think about joining. 

While he heads towards the main building, you make your way to the campus coffee shop - caught behind the early risers desperate for something to get them through their first lecture of the day. 

“Can I get a flat white and an iced americano with caramel to go please?” You smile at the girl working the counter, stepping aside to glance at your watch.

You run through your schedule for today, ignoring the text that comes through. You know exactly what it says, the same thing every morning, and you don’t even bother to roll your eyes at this point. 

“I can’t believe you ignored my text,” Luke says when you reach the courtyard between the library and the medical building. “Not even a flame emoji.”

You stop in front of him, drinking in the jeans and sweater combination he’s settled on today. It’s a really nice sweater, dark blue and a little baggy. You wonder how quickly he’d notice it going missing. Probably not as quickly as he’d notice the stupid hat he’s wearing go missing. His backpack leans against the bench, pristine.

“No one uses those except you,” you shake your head, handing him the iced drink. “What time does your lecture start?” 

Luke tells you as if he really needs to. It’s this thing you’ve started doing since the semester began, acting like you don’t know his schedule as well as your own. As if the both of you haven’t fallen into this routine in just a few weeks. Like it’s not a highlight of your day. 

Clarisse thinks it’s adorable. Chris thinks it’s hilarious. You think it’s nice to have someone to share your free time with, beyond whatever else you and Luke have. It had been a fear of yours, when Silena mentioned not sharing a dorm with you, that you would fall to the sidelines. That life would come with these new priorities for everyone and you would only be fourth or fifth on their lists, too cemented in the day-to-day that you’d be forgotten.

Morning coffee with Luke stops that fear. 

“Did Silena tell you about the party on Friday?” 

“I have a study group in the afternoon,” Luke says, swirling his plastic cup around so the ice clinks together. “If I do go, I’m showing up late.” 

“Maybe I’ll keep my eye out for you there, Castellan.” 

He laughs and it’s like summer again. There’s something insane about hearing Luke laugh like this, unbroken and loud, nothing like it had been over the phone while you were back home. 

“You’ve got dinner with Silena and Clarisse tonight, right?” He asks, swinging his bag over one shoulder. You throw your empty cup into the trash can as you both start walking. “Is there any point in asking if you want to come round after?”

You knock his arm with your shoulder, laughing, and, instead of feigning hurt like usual, Luke just takes your hand in his, the skin a little colder than you expect. Gazing down at your linked hands, you bite your lip before sighing. 

“If I’m home before eleven, I’ll consider it.” 

Last year, when you first met him, you thought Luke only got that determined glint in his eyes when he was competing. That it was a sign of an unanticipated thrill. Since then, you’ve learnt that it’s not that at all. It’s this thing that ignites within him, determined and passionate and a little boyish. 

You think it might be one of your favorite things about him.

“I will take that deal.”

2. 

You wish you could say you were a little drunk. At least that way you would have something to blame. As it stands, you’re stone cold sober, maybe a little tired from class but nothing that can really be blamed for the lack of weight your actions seem to have right now. 

The only thing you can blame, and you will, is the boy next to you, completely engrossed in the movie playing. They’d been watching it when you arrived, all settled on the couches and you assume this is something they do regularly, and at any other time you might’ve called it cute. 

Not tonight. Not when you walked in to the discovery that Luke wears glasses and you didn’t know about it. It was something you played off, making a joke and settling into the cushions beside him. In the time since, Chris has left for his date with Clarisse and Charlie has pulled out some work to go through in the corner of the room. 

“What’s up?” Luke asks when he realizes you’ve hardly moved in ten minutes, barely even breathing. And it’s the worst possible thing he could do, glance down through the frames with that small smile you’ve gotten used to and curls loose. 

“Nothing’s up,” you let your eyes trail back to the screen. “This is a very cute tradition you guys have going on.” 

Charlie lets out a little laugh from across the room. You feel the way Luke exhales against the side of your face. You think you’re able to go back to pretending everything is normal, make a joke and enjoy the rest of the movie. The second you feel Luke’s fingertips on the skin of your knee, gentle and warm, you know you can’t. 

“You’re swerving,” he whispers, throwing a quick glance at Charlie to see if he can hear but the other boy is engrossed in his work. “Talk to me.” 

“It’s nothing,” you bite the inside of your cheek when he nods encouragingly, incredibly aware of the patterns he’s tracing on your skin. “I just think it’s interesting that you’d choose to wear a hat all the time when the glasses are right there.” 

“What?”

His hand stills and you wait. You wait and you stare at the shape of his jaw and you chuckle when it finally clicks, his adam’s apple shifting as he swallows the conclusion down. “Are you saying you like my glasses?” 

You don’t like how uneven this all feels. Whenever you’ve been with Luke so far, there’s been this mutual balance that you’ve grown used to. Even before now, back when you were locked in silly competitions, you did it on even footing, the expectation that everything meant nothing and you wouldn’t be affected. 

This, the way Luke grins around the realization, hand moving to rest on your thigh, is different. It’s heavier. It’s a loss after a winning streak and you’re kind of obsessed with the way it could drag you down. 

“I just think that hat is stupid.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Luke nods and you know, even if he doesn’t do it outright, he’s laughing. He’s categorizing the information you’ve just given him, placing it where it belongs in his mind, and it’s going to bite you in the ass. “Tell me more.” 

“Luke,” you mutter, gritting your teeth. His fingertips brush against the hem of your shorts and, when you glare at him for it, he just shrugs. You throw a glance over in Charlie’s direction. Still nothing. “Are you insane?” 

He tilts his head like he’s considering the question carefully. If Charlie were to look over, you know he’d assume you were locked in a debate about something silly - a staple of you and Luke - and it wouldn’t matter. He wouldn’t know for a second that you were holding onto Luke’s wrist, his hand itching to move just a little to the left. 

You sigh and the boy beside you raises an eyebrow. You both know that you’ve lost this round. 

When you press your lips to his bicep as the film credits roll, warm even through the fabric of his shirt, you mumble, “I really like your glasses.” 

3.

You aren’t used to watching things from a crowd. You’re used to focusing on yourself, on your team - not watching from a distance, surrounded by people who are there purely for enjoyment. There’s no winning from the stands. 

Luke doesn’t know you’re here. You’d sent him a text that morning wishing him luck, arranging to meet him when his debate was over. You hadn’t bothered to message him when your afternoon class got canceled, choosing instead to race across campus and find a seat in the dim auditorium they’re using. 

There isn’t the crackle of energy you get from swimming, or from watching Luke during track sessions. It’s less intense, for sure, a balance between the fire you know exists within him when he’s competing and the confidence he has in his own intelligence. You’ve argued with Luke, stupid things that neither of you care to take too seriously, and this is just the next stage of that. 

He’s got his glasses on, you note, when the debate gets underway. He’s wearing his lucky green polo, even if he’d never personally call it that, and he’s switched his smartwatch out for an analogue one. The cheap biro you’re used to seeing him use has been replaced by a fancy silver pen that he still taps against his thigh while thinking. He’s sitting straighter than usual, shoulders back. 

It’s almost like meeting him for the first time, focused and confident and sharp at the edges. 

You’re kind of obsessed with it. 

An hour and a winning handshake later, you make your way through the small crowd leaving to find Luke in conversation with one of his teammates. She smiles as you wrap an arm around his waist from behind, the slight tension still lingering in his bones melting away when he realizes it’s you. 

“What are you doing here?” He says, turning enough that he’s actually facing you now. The girl waves you both goodbye. “I thought you had class.” 

“Professor Chase had to cancel. His daughter got sent home from school with a fever.” 

Luke nods, pressing his lips to the top of your head quickly. “You didn’t have to come to my debate.” 

In the few months you’ve known Luke, you’ve learnt more about him than you expected to. You know from summer that Connecticut means looking after his sick mother, that he’s hoping to introduce some new charity events to ksig, that he used to go to a summer camp growing up. You know that his dad never showed up for anything and that he sits in the stands of all of your swim meets regardless of whether it cuts into his study time or not.

More than all of that, you know that the way he’s gazing at you now, a cross between awe and something deeper, is going to drive you crazy one day. You hope he can read the same expression on your face. 

“Thank you for coming,” he says when everyone is finally dismissed, an arm thrown across your shoulders as you make your way out of the building. You loop a finger around one of his, just because you want to. “It means a lot.”

“I told you I would,” and you had, months ago, staring at Luke’s bedroom ceiling, back when you were still caught in the casualness of it all. When Luke was just someone you pretended you weren’t trying to bump into at parties. You’d told him that you would show up for him if you ever got the chance. He’d rolled his eyes, throwing a blanket over you both and told you to go to sleep. He’d drifted off with his nose pressed against your neck. “I keep my word, Castellan.” 

“I know.”

In the evening light of campus, you think it might mean something more. Buried under the timing and the bitter wind until it’s a promise only you and Luke could translate. Asking him about where he wants to go for dinner, you like that no one else could understand the depth of it. 

+1.

Silena catches your attention as you enter the kitchen, grinning wildly and explaining her concept for tonight. Drew gave her permission to throw this week’s party, something themed and fun and it’s something she’s so proud of that you can’t help but grin back at her energy. 

“Even Charlie came,” she tells you excitedly, handing you a drink. “I feel like tonight is going to be it.” 

In all the years you’ve known her, she’s been counting down to it. You don’t exactly understand the fundamentals of what it is, if it’s a real thing or something she can just sense intrinsically. There have been moments where she’s thought of it before, mentioned it offhandedly before shaking her head - as if knowing she was wrong. 

“What even is it?” You ask and, for the first time, she breathes deeply instead of shrugging it off. 

“The beginning of the end,” she says and that doesn’t exactly explain anything. “Everything is about to change.” 

You still don’t really get it, but she’s as confident in this as she is about her clothes, so you nod like you understand. She sends you away not long after that, turning her attention to the new group that’s just walked through the doorway, mentioning that you need to be in the basement in about an hour and you just accept your fate, moving into the next room and falling into conversation with Rachel. 

*

Luke slips into the basement just as Silena starts yelling for everyone to do so, catching your eye across the room and waving. When you’re all instructed to sit down in a circle, you wonder exactly what Silena has planned for tonight. When she places a near empty bottle down in the center of you all, you laugh. 

“Are we actually playing spin the bottle?” Chris asks, prompting a murmured chorus of agreement from everyone else in the room. Silena frowns at him. 

“Wanna bet he ends up getting the most into it?” Luke whispers in your ear and you raise an eyebrow at him. “Loser has to buy the coffee tomorrow morning.” 

“You’re on,” you bump your fist to his to seal the deal. “I think he’s gonna get bored by round 3.” 

“Only boring people get bored of this game. It’s about drive.” 

“It’s about power?” Luke lets out a laugh and Silena turns her glare to you. “Sorry.”

She starts to explain the rules of the game, as if you’re all twelve again, and you bite your lip harder with every comment Luke makes under his breath. It’s a little mean, a little stupid, and you wish you were fifteen again, playing a proper game of spin the bottle for the first time.

Nothing much happens for the first few rounds, Chris starting to grumble the longer the game goes on. Luke clicks his tongue when you point it out, cursing his best friend like this was the worst thing that could’ve happened to him. 

Lee spins and it’s like cosmic interference when the bottle stops between you and Luke, the two of you glancing at each other and then back towards Lee. 

“Should I spin it again?” Lee asks when no one says anything. Silena shakes her head and says, “You can choose or we can vote if that makes you more comfortable.” 

“Please let us vote,” Chris shouts, animated and you narrow your eyes at him, ignoring the smug smile Luke gives you. “I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.” 

Lee glances between you both again, at where your knee rests against Luke’s thigh and the beer you’ve been sharing for the past twenty minutes sits between you. “It might be better to vote.” 

“Sure,” Silena smiles before silencing you all. “Everyone that wants Lee to kiss Luke, raise your hands.” 

You raise your hand and Luke mumbles beside you, flicking your leg and you poke him in return. Anything to avoid kissing Lee Fletcher after two years of avoiding it. 

“That is an overwhelming majority,” Silena says and you know, just by the way her eyes slide over to you, that she didn’t even bother to actually count. “Lee, you may now kiss Luke.” 

There’s this moment where you think Lee is going to just leave but instead he stares at the boy next to you, the relaxed set to his jaw, the annoying baseball cap on his head, how he’s so unbothered by it all. You watch as something clicks in his mind, you really want to know what it is. 

Whatever it was, it makes him grab the bottle again, ignoring Silena’s protests. It lands on the girl from Luke’s debate team and she straightens her back ever so slightly. 

“Silena,” Lee says as he leans towards the girl. “I’m not going to kiss Luke or his girlfriend.”

“Damn straight,” Luke mumbles, grabbing your hand from your lap and holding it in his instead. It’s stupid and it really doesn’t matter to either of you, you know that, but there’s this way he says it - almost like it’s the worst thing he could’ve imagined - and it settles in your gut with the beer you’ve been drinking. “Me or my girlfriend.”

“I’d really like to meet her,” you say, laughing when he huffs and pulls his hat down on your head. When you push the visor up to see him properly, all rosy cheeks and compacted curls, you think you might have found it. Whatever it is.

Based on the way Luke’s nose scrunches and his eyes crinkle, you think he understands that too. 

[yunhoszn]

steamed milk

pairing choi san x f!reader word count 2.5k genres fluff﹒smut warnings 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, not proofread, all lowercase bc i wrote this at 2 am… a week ago <3, barista!reader, barista!san, clumsy reader, mentions of burn scars?, mutual pining, little bit of power imbalance but it doesn’t play into the plot, escalates pretty fast, public sex, unprotected sex, cute fluffy moment at the end, may we get f’s in the chat for kim hongjoong’s desk chair

summary a closing shift with san is… interesting… to say the least.

more alright alright alright, i know i have a billion wips and a billion reqs to work on,,, but @bro-atz needed something to read on a flight and i needed an excuse to write with no plot in mind, solely based on vibes and this is what came out of it… i ALSO KNOW i’ve been withholding for a week but that’s bc i wasn’t sure if i wanted to keep this locked in the dungeon for a rainy day or not, until i remembered i should post something in honor of chellateez 🥳

@atzhouse @san-network

“did you burn yourself on the steam wand again, y/n?”

you bite your lip and turn away from hongjoong bashfully. so what if you’re a little clumsy, it’s not like you completely sucked at your job. maybe there were a few milk spills here and there. at least you knew what you were doing most of the time. 

“um, what would you do if i said no?” you scratch the back of your neck with the hand that wasn’t burned. hongjoong sighs, leaning back in his rolling chair. as the manager of a coffee shop, he did not get paid enough to babysit and coddle his employees like he usually did. 

between you almost always making a mess and then yunho and mingi goofing around whenever they were on shift together, he felt like he was starting to grow grey hairs. he shakes his head with a tsk, pulling out the first aid kit from one of the drawers in his desk. “let’s put some burn cream and a bandaid on it so you can hop back out. the dessert rush is about to begin.”

you nod and rock on the balls of your feet as you wait patiently. your manager dresses your burn and sends you on your way. the dessert rush, aside from the morning rush, was arguably the worst part of the day. shifts at the coffee shop were divided into thirds— open to mid, mid to evening, evening to close. while opens were the most busy, you at least got out early and could enjoy the rest of your day. mids were the slowest, but they took place midday so you couldn’t do much after you clocked off. 

closes were the worst, because they were so unpredictable. you weren’t ever sure if it was going to be busy, apart from the usual dessert rush, and that uncertainty bothered you. the beginning of your closing shift was staffed pretty well. there was yeosang, who was probably the best barista out of the lot of you, and seonghwa, a seasoned veteran in this game. he was your assistant manager. 

however, yeosang and seonghwa were off at 6 PM and the shop closed at 9 PM, leaving you and your lead for the night to close all by yourselves. and your lead? choi san. 

closing with san wouldn’t be such a problem if it weren’t for your massive crush on him. out of the other leads, san was the kindest. he didn’t lose his cool if your clumsy nature got the best of you during a hectic shift. in fact, he took his time to ensure everything was okay. he didn’t care if there were angry customers demanding that their drinks be made. his baristas were his number one priority. 

and well, with his appearance today, it would be more difficult than usual. donned in a white button up and some black slacks, his brown apron over, you think you’re going to faint. on a regular basis, san wore simple things like the occasional sweater or t-shirts and jeans, but this new look was making you all sorts of dizzy. you felt inferior beside him. (though technically, you were.)

with hongjoong, seonghwa, and yeosang leaving all at the same time, you were in a crisis. how were you supposed to survive this shift? it’s like the universe meticulously crafted this moment so it could laugh at you. and it all started with you burning yourself on that goddamn steam wand, while you were on bar with san of all people. 

“are you sure you don’t want me to send you home?” san asks lowly, making sure only you heard him. the two of you were finishing an order when he asked the question. 

“i couldn’t let you close by yourself.” you pout. as hard as it’s going to be working with him alone for three hours, you’d feel awful leaving him to fend for himself. 

“i can ask yeo or hwa to stay,” he shrugs, putting a lid on the iced vanilla latte in front of you. “i don’t want you to hurt yourself again.”

“i’ll be fine, san,” you reassure. “besides, seonghwa would probably kill me if i was the reason he had to stay later than he had to.”

san laughs a little, eyes scrunching up in the cute way they do when he smiles. your heart rate spikes and you have to take a deep breath to compose yourself. he nods as he turns to hand out the order. 

“if you insist.”

maybe you should’ve taken him up on that offer to go home. 

you’re too distracted by the way his rolled up sleeves strain against his muscular arms, staring a little too much. hongjoong just so happens to walk out of the back at that exact moment. he thinks your (very obvious) crush on san is funny, but not when the line is wrapped and you’re about to be down two men. 

“y/n, there’s five drinks waiting to be made,” he calls out, tapping on seonghwa and yeosang’s shoulders to let them know they can go. “what’s more important that has you standing there doing nothing?”

“sorry…” you apologize sheepishly, avoiding his gaze as you start on the next order; a dry cappuccino with cinnamon. great. another drink that required you using that godforsaken steam wand. a truly evil contraption. 

“i can be milk if you’d like?” san suggests suddenly, noticing your hesitation to steam the 2%. 

“if it’s not too much of an ask,” you frown. “i just don’t want to hold us back in the middle of a rush.”

“you don’t need to explain yourself to me, y/n,” he quickly swaps places with you. “i think you’re pretty damn good with a portafilter anyway.”

it’s a stupid compliment. only another barista would even know what that meant, but you take it to heart. your body flushes with warmth as you tamp the espresso grounds and pull a shot viable enough to use for the cappuccino. you’re a little shaky as you pour it into the paper cup and wait for san to pour the milk. 

this was the closest you’d get to flirting with san, and it was him telling you that you were actually good at your job. what a sad life you lived. 

thankfully, you manage to bulldoze through the line with just the two of you. in times like these, your solution is to go nonverbal and lock in. if you talk while you’re making drinks, you get distracted too easily and you find it’s harder to multitask. after the rush, things are slow for the most part and then it’s just you, san, and the sound of cafe music playing quietly over the speakers at 9 PM. 

“y/n, can i ask you a question?” san inquires, counting the till as you wipe down the espresso machine and the bar around it. 

“what’s up?” you hum, refolding your rag. he shuts the register and walks over to you, leaning on the bar adjacent to the one you were at. 

“i’m curious, and you don’t have to answer if you’re uncomfortable, but i’ve heard that you like me. is that true?” it comes out so politely, you’re not even sure you heard him correctly. you blink as the words process in your brain. this was the end. now you really wished you went home early. 

“well— um— i don’t know how to answer that…” you fiddle with your fingers, looking everywhere but at san. 

“all i want is a yes or no, because truth is,” he walks closer and closer until he’s directly in front of you. “i have a little crush on you myself.”

“you what?!” you don’t mean to sound so shocked, so appalled even, because he takes a step back, eyes widened by your outburst. you’re just so confused. choi san liked you? like, liked you?

“i’ll take that as a—“

“no!” you stand upright, grabbing his wrist. when you realize what you’ve done, you immediately let go. “i mean, no, as in yes. i do like you, san. i was just… embarrassed… that you found out from elsewhere instead of me. and i’m a little in disbelief that you feel the same.”

“why’s that?” his head tilts to the side a bit. “what’s not to like about you?”

“for starters, i’m the biggest klutz on the planet.” you huff, but that makes his smile grow wider. 

“i think that’s your charming point,” he admits, hands stuffed into the pockets of his slacks. “while i don’t enjoy seeing you hurt, like when you burned yourself earlier, i do think it’s kinda cute when you accidentally knock over a drink.”

“are you okay in the head? were you dropped on it as a baby?” you ask with a raised eyebrow. he laughs, this time a full on laugh that has him bringing a fist up to his mouth. you think you just shed a tear. and not from your eyes. 

“i don’t believe so. i guess i’m just attracted to people who aren’t afraid of being themselves,” he shrugs, reaching out to take your hand into his. “and you check all the boxes.”

remember the whole fainting thing? that’s about to come true. you manifested it. 

san brings your knuckles up to his lips, first kissing over the bandaid where your burn was and then all over the back of your hand. you stand there like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing but no words escaping you. was the universe… rewarding you somehow?

“how often does joong check the cameras?” you gasp when his kisses have moved from your hand to your neck. he doesn’t break contact, speaking into your skin as he unties your apron. 

“almost never, but you have a point.”

this is how you end up on san’s lap in hongjoong’s office chair, fingers tangled in each other’s hair, lips locked like no tomorrow. he was a fantastic kisser, which just further proved your theory that he was the perfect human being. along with the subtle flirting, and the obvious knack for respecting boundaries, it’s almost like the universe had hand crafted choi san to be the ideal man. and they say chivalry is dead. pft, san’s existence dispels that notion undoubtedly. 

“he won’t know, right?” you pant, arching into him when he sucks at a particular part on the base of your throat. he hums. 

“you’re worrying too much,” san’s fingers slip under your top, digging into your waist. “i promise, he won’t find out. but we’ve gotta be quick since he���ll know what time we left.”

“m’kay,” you sigh, grinding down on his lap to help speed things along. the undressing process is a blur. you wish you could spend more time admiring his bare chest and arms, especially because you’d been fantasizing about this moment for almost an entire year now. 

“god, you’re so gorgeous, y/n,” he murmurs, reconnecting your lips sweetly. his hands massage the sides of your thighs as you hover over him, preparing to sink down on his cock. “i finally have you all to myself.”

you whine when you do, his words encouraging your arousal. the intrusion has you moaning softly, eyes squeezing shut from the sheer pleasure streaming through your veins. your nails scrape his shoulders and back, toes curling. the tip of his dick grazes that sensitive spot deep in your cunt with ease, as if he was made to be inside of you. 

“feels— fuck— feels so good, san,” you whimper, head falling to the crook of his neck. san chuckles, albeit a little strained. his hands remain in your hips, aiding your movement so you don’t get too tired. 

“is that right, sweetheart?” he says into your ear, nipping the lobe gently. “you’re taking me so well.” 

his praise shoots straight to your core, punching another moan out of you. you really shouldn’t be surprised that he’s inching you towards the edge of that familiar tide so fast. it’s san, and like you’ve stated before, he’s damn near perfect. but holy shit, the way he’s fucking you has you thinking that there is such a thing as heaven. 

you have to bite down on his collarbone to stop yourself from screaming like a fucking pornstar, leaving a myriad of marks on his skin to restrain the ferality threatening to jump out of you. every drag of his cock on your velvety walls drives you just a little more insane each time. 

he’s moving so slow, but so deep all at once, and it’s just the right combination to decorate the backs of your eyelids in stars and colored spots. his ring and middle fingers meet your swollen clit, circling with practiced pressure. the office chair squeaks awfully with each of your bounces on his lap, but you’re too close to pay it any mind. instead, you drown it out with your own noises— warnings of your impending orgasm. 

“gonna cum— my god, san, i’m—!” you don’t even finish your sentence, the tide finally reaching the shore. your orgasm washes over you hard and unlike any other you’ve ever experienced before. you aren’t sure if he’s just that good, or if it’s because it’s san. (most likely a combination of both.) 

san coos, guiding you through the peak of your climax. once you’ve calmed considerably, you slide him out of you and stroke his cock until he’s painting the inside of your thighs with milky white and a groan. his face screws up in pleasure, eyes fluttered shut and brows knit together. his lashes kiss the tops of his cheeks and you think you’ve just fallen in love, for real. 

his chest rises and falls as he attempts to catch his breath. you can’t help placing a hand over the left side to feel the rapidity of his heartbeat, smiling to yourself. he mirrors your expression after a moment, leaning up to press a sensual kiss to your lips. 

“as fun as this was, and as much as i like the view right now, it’d be better if i could actually take you out after this… and if i could fuck you somewhere nicer than on our manager’s desk chair.” san bites at the inside of his lip, glancing down at the rolling chair beneath you. 

“i agree,” you giggle, brushing his hair from his face. “hongjoong’s office isn’t the ideal location for a first date or first time sleeping together. but at least we’ll have a fun story to tell our kids.”

san bursts into laughter at that. “our kids, huh? you’ve thought that far ahead?”

“i’ve had a crush on you since i got hired, choi san, what do you think?” you raise an eyebrow, booping his nose with your index finger. he scrunches it up with a grin. 

“i think that i’ve had a crush on you just as long. and if we’re having kids, it’s best to omit some details when we retell this story.” 

© yunhoszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[aliesbienish]

buddie x reader where they’re a couple, but they both meet reader separately, for example she’s an ER nurse or something and they both gain feelings for her and feel guilty and tell each other until they realise they both like the same person and decide to go for it together??

The doctor is just what they ordered

Established Buddie x Reader

Eddie met you first. You were exhausted, nearing the end of a busy 12 hour shift, with your hair spilling out from what was once carefully constructed braid and remnants of god knows what on your scrubs. He’d handed over a driver involved in a nasty collision and was sitting waiting for Hen so they could head back to the station.

Eddie had grabbed a seat across from the nurses station and had a perfect view of you taking a sip out of a coffee mug only to grimace at the taste.

Simultaneously as you thrust it back onto the desk in disgust a paper coffee cup appeared before your eyes.

“I think you could use this,” Eddie smiled, gently nudging your hand with the, blissfully, still warm coffee as you stared at him in confusion.

“I guess I now know why my ex didn’t believe me when I swore up and down I liked his cooking,” you quipped, gratefully grabbing the drink.

“If it helps the fact that the mug had been sitting untouched since I sat down nearly twenty minutes ago also indicated whatever was in that cup wasn’t going to go down well,”

“Hmm I’ll except that explanation, solely because I’d like to stay blissfully unaware if my face is an open book or not.” You took a sip of the coffee, the heat almost making up for it being from a shitty hospital drink machine before coming to a realisation.

“Hang on, does that mean I just stole your coffee?”

“Stole is an interesting choice of words when I literally handed it to you. But no, you technically stole my colleagues.”

“Even better, get me in the bad books of someone I don’t even know.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll only tell her that you claimed it while my back was turned and proceeded to call her all sorts of bad names,”

“Wonderful, I’m assuming she’s a firefighter too?” You asked having caught sight of the man’s LA Fire uniforme. He nodded in affirmation. “Great, it’s not like I’ll ever see her again,” you noted sarcastically.

“Im not sure you will, since I for one have never seen you before,”

“That’s because I’ve just moved here. Regrettably I don’t know the good hiding spots yet so I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other,”

“Well I for one look forward to it, I have plenty of other colleagues I can turn against you,”

“Great,” you laughed, barely managing to stop sitting out the coffee.

“Well there she is now,” He pointed at a women across the room waving at him to get a move on. “Nice to meet you Dr…. Sorry I didn’t get your name,”

You laughed, introducing yourself and shaking his hand.

“Right well I’m Eddie,” he said, giving you a nod as he turned away,”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Buck’s first meeting with you was a bloody mess, literally. It was only a few weeks after Eddie had first saw you, and in true Buck fashion it was chaos.

Los Angeles had been hit with a Tsunami, the worst in the US since 1964, and the hospital was overwhelmed with patients. Luckily Cedars-Sinai was far enough inland that the hospital hadn’t been damaged, but others had. Meaning that they couldn’t take on emergencies but they also had to transfer critical patients who were already there.

The hours since the Tsunami were a blur as you moved through emergency patients addressing their injuries enough to keep them stabilised, before moving them off to specialised wards.

You were currently in the bay waiting on an incoming ambulance, with a critical but awake patient onboard. From what you could gather the poor guy had been at the pier when the tsunami hit, spent the day rescuing others despite being already injured, before collapsing at the makeshift VA hospital. They’d sent him across as he needed to be imaged to make sure their wasn’t internal damage, and with the VA running on generators they weren’t able to do it there.

The ambulance pulled up abruptly, knocking you out of your thoughts, and the paramedics open the door to a man who was smiling despite the downright awful day you had. You followed the paramedics into the ER, listening as they rattled out Evans, Buck as he apparently preferred, injuries and symptoms.

“Hi Buck,” you introduced yourself, “sound like you had a rough day,”

“Wasn’t my favourite. Although I’m sure yours hasn’t been a walk in the park either,”

“More like a marathon dash if I’m honest. However between the two of us I think I’ve had it easier, I got to stay dry after all,”

“Not a fan of swimming?” Buck laughed.

“Love swimming, just never liked waves. Silver lining to all this is that I get to call up my mum and tell her how wrong she was calling my fear ‘irrational’,” Buck started laughing again, but quickly grimaced and held the left side of his upper abdomen.

“Alright, time to pause my one woman show and get you check out. You lie back and relax okay,”

“Thanks Doc,”

You quickly went through the motions of your head to toe assessment. Buck had clearly suffered rib bruising and had cuts that had been hastily patched but needed better dressings, otherwise externally he was in surprisingly good nick. It was the leg you were worried about, ordering a CT to make sure it was all okay. You placed Buck back into a quite corner of the ER to get his bandages redressed and wait out the results while you dived back into the fray. After a few hours you got to give him the good news.

“Hiya Buck,” you greeted pushing through the curtains. “Your looking a bit more spritely,”

“It must be the food they serve here, ever since I got my hands on a sandwich I’ve been feeling a million bucks,” he winked.

“Oh ha ha. I also don’t believe you, I’ve tried the food here and I don’t think anyone’s had a higher reaction than ‘meh’. Should I call for a psych consult?”

“Threatening a sick man. That’s low,”

“Well the good news is I wouldn’t call you sick, just slightly bruised and battered. You’ll have to promise to rest up but I don’t see why you can’t go home straight away,”

“That’s great news! Thanks for everything today, this hospital stay has been one of the more pleasant ones due to you,”

“Bet you say that to all your doctors. Now is someone available to pick you up or do you need me to give anyone a call?”

“My partners just outside making a call, I’m all good to go! Thanks again,”

“Bye Buck,” you smiled closing the curtain behind you.

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Eddie was exceptionally grateful tonight that both of his boys were safe and relatively uninjured under his roof.

Chris had taken some coaxing to get to sleep but he’d eventually drifted off. Buck, after Eddie had told him to stop being a idiot and thinking he was in any way to blame for the events of the day, was in a surprisingly good mood.

So good he was in fact humming under his breath a rather upbeat tune as they lay in bed.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie whispered, turning Bucks head gently towards him so they were lying facing each other. “Are you sure your okay? Not that I want to doubt you but you’re taking today exceptionally well,”

“Ed’s don’t worry, I am now. I wasn’t to be honest initially but the doctor at the hospital was great and she calmed me down, and got me laughing,”

“That sounds like excellent beside manner,”

“The excellent-est. I would like to request her for any future, likely inevitable, injuries I sustain.”

“Shut up Buck, I don’t want to see you hurt again if I can help it.” Eddie groaned, placing a kiss on his forehead. “Which doctor was it?”

Buck relayed your name smiling, and Eddies face dropped. “Oh.”

“Oh? What’s oh mean Eddie?” Buck questioned sitting up and turning his body to Eddie.

“I’ve met her that’s all, and she’s young and pretty. Funny too.”

“Was that oh jealousy?” Buck asked exasperated, “you silly man,”

“Its just she would be perfect for you, and I imagine a lot less baggage.”

“Sweetheart, while I admit she’s appealing, I love you. Your what I want, and I happen to love Chris,”

“I know, I’m sorry. I can’t helped being worried.”

Buck pulled him into a kiss. “Don’t be,” he whispered against his lips before pulling away.

“Wait hang on!” He paused as Eddie tried to chase his lips. “You noticed all those things about her too, yes?”

“Maybe…”

“So does that mean you are also attracted to her?”

“Buck I would never do anything to jeopardise…”

“Ed’s I know that,” Buck cut him off, “I think this is a good thing”

“How so?”

“Well we both like her. So why don’t we both date her?”

“Im sorry what?”

“You. Me. Her,” Buck punctuated. “Doesn’t that sound good,”

“I don’t think it’s that simple Buck,”

“Why not? If she wants this too than what’s the issue? And don’t you dare say it’s not accepted, because you and I both know that caring what people think only hurts.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay Buck. If she’s also interested then let’s do it”

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The last few weeks had been filled with thinking about Eddie and Buck. You managed to meet two lovely men, who talking with seemed as natural as breathing, so you could help day dream about them both individually and rather embarrassingly together.

So when the two men walked into the ER together you were almost sure you were daydreaming again. They’d approached one of the nurses who mortifingly pointed straight at you, ensuring the boys caught you staring. You gave an embarrassed wave as they came towards you.

“Hi Doctor,” Buck winked.

“Hi Buck, Eddie. Nice to see you both…together,”

“Ah yes, literally actually. We’re boyfriends” Eddie acknowledged, his face flushing red.

“Oh that’s great,” although the disappointing feeling washing over seemed to disagree, “I don’t doubt you’re amazing together,” you said genuinely. At the very least it gave you hope that two of the most genuine people you had met were together. “Here for a follow up?”

“No actually, I hope this isn’t too upfront but we we’re hoping you’d like to join us for dinner sometime soon?” Eddie asked, Buck nodding beside him in encouragement.

“Oh, as a thank you? You absolutely don’t need to do that,”

“No, although I definitely want to thank you,” Buck replied, “as a date,”

“A date?” You squeaked.

“We know it’s unorthodox but we both couldn’t stop thinking about you and once we realised we were thinking about the same person we had to try,”

“You do realise we’re going to be a scheduling nightmare right? I mean doctors and firefighters aren’t know for their set hours”

“Worse comes to worse there is the hospital cafeteria, they have some of the best sandwiches” Buck jokes.

“And coffee,” Eddie added.

“Delusional the both of you. It’s like you want this to fail”

“Is that a yes?”

“I get off in 15, meet you in the cafeteria?”

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Well that escalated. Thank you lovely Anon for your request.Hope you all enjoyed. Any medical knowledge (or lack there of) is brought to you by 24 hrs in A&E.

X Ali

[traveler-at-heart]

Brave

Summary: The sudden loss of someone in your family leaves you broken. Natasha tries to help.

A/N: Special thanks to @happychopshoppenguin for helping me to sort out ideas for this plot.

It was a regular day for the Avengers.

Mission, explosions, fighting some bad guys and then fly back in the Quinjet.

“Fury’s gonna be mad” Clint taunts, looking at you.

“He didn’t say how to stop them from sharing the drive with the Chinese” you smile, thinking that blowing up their entire control room was a bit much. But, you were in a hurry to finish the mission and go home.

Clint rolls his eyes and steers the Quinjet.

“Alright, it’s gonna be at least seven hours. Go get some sleep, dynamite. Tasha, you ok?”

Natasha had been quiet, which was nothing new around you. To most people, it was probably the contrast in personalities; while the Russian was reserved, you were very outgoing.

You’d hope it was just that, and not that she disliked you. After a few attempts at conversation that turned cold, you decided to be cordial, but give her space.

Right now, she’s sitting in the back of the Quinjet, no visible injuries. But still, her hand is over her ribs, and she seems to be deep in thought.

You know what’s happening and that she’d never ask for help.

“Do you need to clean any wounds? I’ll take over the Quinjet while you do” you offer to Clint and he shakes his head no. Walking to the first aid kit, you pull out a bottle of water, painkillers and a pack of ice. You’re about to walk to sit next to Natasha, when you bring a hand to your forehead.

“Great. Blood and sooth. I must stink” placing the first aid stuff next to her, you mumble to yourself about taking a quick shower.

By the time you come out, Natasha has already taken a pill, and has the ice pack over her bruised ribs. Her eyes are closed, and much as you’d like to stare, you go sit next to Clint, hoping to get home soon.

—

Maria is waiting on the hangar when you land.

“Told ya” Clint mocks and you turn to glare at him.

“Did you snitch on me, Barton?”

“Y/N” Maria says, and her tone alone erases your smile.

“What’s wrong?” you say, going over every possible scenario. This is your last mission before a two week break to go back home. “Is it…?”

Your mom was supposed to have surgery. But she was fine. It couldn’t be…

“I’m sorry”

It’s as if a bucket of ice cold water was poured over your head. Your hands are so numb, you can’t feel Natasha taking one of them, her arm around your shoulders.

—

It’s been a week. Natasha tries not to think about you, mainly because there’s nothing she can do to help.

And it’s none of her business when (or if) you come back. Still, she feels a certain heaviness in her movements as she makes her morning coffee.

You always made enough for the two of you. And it tastes so much better than the one Natasha makes.

“Is Y/N around?” Maria walks in, looking for you.

“I thought she was still with her family”

“She came back earlier. It didn’t… it sounded bad. Like a family disagreement had happened on top of everything else” Maria sighs.

“Do you know what it was?”

“All I know is that her mother’s condition had been bad for a while… and then they did emergency surgery but her heart was too weak”

Natasha nods in silence, imagining how hard it must be for you. How your mother always sent something she knitted for everyone on the team on their birthdays, or how your parents would fly to visit at least once a month.

“If you see her, will you let me know? I just want to make sure she’s alright”

“Of course”

—

No one saw you, not even for movie night. It’s not like the team was expecting you, but it was quiet as the movie played on the screen, and only Sam seemed to be paying attention.

Natasha looks at the table in the middle of the room.

You always got her Dr. Pepper. Her guilty pleasure, a little indulgence in her life of strict physical activity and healthy meals.

This time, there’s only beer that no one bothers to drink. A headache threatens to sour her mood even more, but the cupboard with medical supplies is almost empty.

That’s how everything feels without you around.

Natasha had hoped you’d be at the staff meeting next Monday, but everyone took a seat, your chair remained empty.

“We have to do something” Steve says, looking around. His eyes meet Maria’s.

“Well, she’s been going on solo missions”

“And you think that’s a good idea?” Barton challenges, clearly annoyed. Would it be so hard for Fury to give a damn about his team?

“Listen, any one of you is welcomed to join her but I don’t think…”

“I’ll go” Natasha says.

“Good. Maybe she needs some… girl talk” Steve says and everyone laughs for the first time in weeks.

“Yes, we’ll braid our hair while we wait for the bad guys, Steve” Natasha mocks.

“Nice one, Capsicle” Tony says.

Truth be told, Natasha wasn’t expecting such a strong reaction when you saw her at the hangar.

“I’m on solo duty, Natasha” you say without looking at her, getting inside the small aircraft.

“Fury’s orders” the redhead lies, following you. She almost crashes against your back as you stop and turn around.

“If you’re coming, I don’t want to hear any scolding or complains. I’m running this operation”

“That’s fine by me”

Either way, from what she read on the file, it was only information extraction. And yet, you were gone for thirty minutes, after she successfully hacked into the database.

“Where the hell have you been?” Natasha scolds, forgetting about her previous promise.

“Can you get us on the air? I’ll take over in a minute” you answer, your face evidently beaten up, as one of your eyes was starting to swell.

Natasha is torn between concern and anger, but she figures it is better to talk to  you once they’re away from the enemy. With a sigh, she starts the engine and sets the coordinates of the Compound.

A spot on the floor catches her eye.

Blood. A lot of it.

“Y/N?” she stands up, looking around. Following the trail of blood, she opens up the door to the small bathroom. She sees you, your uniform torn around your thigh, a gash exposed. “Oh my God!”

“Ever tried knocking?” you say, without looking at her. Next thing you do is use the surgical stapler to close the wound, not caring to use anesthesia.

“You need stitches”

“I’m fine” you stand up, taking off the top of your uniform. Natasha spots bruises that are just starting to heal.

Maybe that’s why the medical supplies were gone the other day.

“Y/N…”

“If you’re not gonna fly, I’m taking over” you walk towards the cabin, and she stands there, looking at all the blood that you left behind.

What the hell is she gonna tell Maria when you come back?

There’s a moment of silence as you land the Quinjet. You hope that Natasha will not even start about your injury, so you wait for her to leave.

“Y/N?” 

“I’m fine, Natasha”

“I’m worried” she admits in a low voice, which catches you off guard. You’ve never thought she cared enough, not about you at least.

“I’ll stop going on missions until I’m better”

She wants to tell you it’s not enough, because an injury isn’t the issue here. But Natasha also recognizes when she’s about to cross a boundary. 

So, she just nods and leaves the hangar. The feeling of defeat comes with her as you’re left alone on the jet.

—

Another Monday, another staff meeting. 

To everyone’s surprise, you’re the last through the door. Steve sits up, but the rest of the team just looks at you, afraid that saying anything else might scare you away.

For your part, you ignore everyone but Natasha, placing a paper bag from her favorite bakery in front of her. 

She smiles at you, because it’s something you always do on Monday meetings. This time, you don’t mutter your usual excuse of being around the bakery first thing in the morning. You do give a little smile in return, and Natasha tries to ignore the warm feeling she gets from the gesture.

“Everyone, have a seat” Maria says, trying to pretend she isn’t surprised to see you as well. “We have word of a HYDRA base storing potentially dangerous technology. It’s big enough to send the whole team”

“Surely some of us could stay behind if we’re not up for it” Barton says, avoiding your eyes. He’s the only one that knows about what happened on your mission with Natasha. 

“It’s not ideal, but if anyone wants out, speak now. Very well”, she continues after a beat of silence. “Here’s the map of the facility. You leave in an hour”

—

The mission was completed. 

Barely. 

You’re holding a gauze against your side, to stop the bleeding from a bullet graze. Fury’s been called to go over what happened. 

He doesn’t seem pleased.

“You better do something about her” Tony says, his finger pointing at you.

“Stark” Barton warns but you don’t even react to his confrontation.

“No, I don’t want to hear it. If she wants to go and get killed, that’s her deal. But we were just about done with the mission when she decides to fight a dozen HYDRA agents on her own”

“We need to calm down” Steve says.

“No, there was a town a few miles south and HYDRA had nuclear warheads. Have we learned nothing? This could have been catastrophic” 

“But it wasn’t, so…”

“If you have some mommy issues to deal with, do it on your free time. I’m not gonna burden myself with civilian deaths over your trauma” 

“Tony!” Steve reprimands, standing up. They’re so busy facing each other, they never see you approaching. You throw a punch that hits Stark square in the eye, followed by another one that breaks his nose.

“Say that again, you fucking asshole” you shout, throwing a kick that never lands. It takes Steve and Bucky to hold you back. “Talk shit, Stark, see what happens” 

“That’s enough. You’re suspended, effective immediately” Fury says.

“I’ll do you one better. I quit” you push Rogers and Bucky away, not bothering to look at the rest of your teammates. 

It’s better this way.

—

It’s not hard to find you. Being a professional spy works in Natasha’s favor, but you’re basically bouncing from your apartment to the bar around the corner.

Sit and drink.

That’s all you do from the moment you walk in, around noon and then you leave past midnight. Before going up your apartment, you stop by the bodega to get another bottle of whatever cheap booze they have and call it a night.

Natasha looks from across the street, debating between going inside and talking to you or just going home.

What can she tell you to make it all better?

That’s the question she asks herself all week, and come Friday Natasha still doesn’t have an answer. 

The bar is crowded and the redhead figures it’s safe enough to go inside without being spotted.

You’re in your usual spot, leaning against the bar while sitting on a stool. The loud music and conversations make you dizzy, but you still ask for another scotch and drink half of it in one gulp.

“Are you moving anytime soon?” a twenty something year old pops out of nowhere and you don’t even look his way. “We want to sit at the bar and watch the game, I’m sure you can go be a sad drunk somewhere else”

“Fuck off” you say after finishing your drink and asking for another one. When they give it to you, the idiot knocks it from your hand. 

“You have ten seconds to apologize or leave” you rub your temples, thinking how much worse your headache will be after kicking his ass.

“I don’t think so” he says, throwing a punch at you. Even with all you drank, you’re able to avoid his fist, knocking him down in one swift motion.

“Crap” you kinda forgot he was not alone. Three more guys show up, and while you’re busy blocking some kicks, one of them manages to punch you in the face. You fall to the ground, feeling a kick to your side and a fist that connects with your nose.

At this point, you give up, thinking that getting your ass kicked in a bar is just as effective as drinking the day away.

But the next attack never comes. In fact, all three men are down.

“Get up” you hear someone say. 

It sounds like Natasha.

You try to stand, but there’s a pain in your side. Before you can collapse on the ground, arms go around your waist and help you stand, walking side by side all the way to your apartment.

The lavender scent and the gentle touch confirms it’s Natasha, and you try not to think about how much you’ve missed her.

The redhead opens the door to your apartment, letting you down on the couch. You grunt as you sit, blood running down your nose and temple.

Yeah, this is going to be the worst hangover of your life.

“Where’s your first aid kit?” Natasha says looking around the place. 

You really did miss her and the thought finally breaks you.

“What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?” Natasha kneels in front of you the minute you let out a sob, tears mixing with the blood.

“It’s not worth it, Nat. I’m not worth the trouble. You should go” you plead, overwhelmed at the guilt that’s been consuming you for weeks now.

“What are you talking about?” 

“She kept asking for me. When they were at the hospital. She wanted to see me, she was scared and in pain and I wasn’t there. My mother died and I didn’t get to say goodbye” 

“Y/N…”

“What kind of person does that? How can you fail so badly to the people that loved you?” 

“You didn’t fail”

“Yes, I did” you say, struggling to breathe.

“You didn’t. It’s ok” Natasha tries to calm you, her hands going through your hair until your breathing evens out. 

The rush of adrenaline leaves your body, and pretty soon, you’re slumped against the couch, Natasha’s hands still in yours.

—

There’s light. And pain.

A different kind than the one you’ve had. As you sit up, you feel your bruised ribs and when you grimace, the split lip reminds you your face didn’t fare any better during your fight.

Natasha…

“How are you feeling?” you turn to find the woman standing in the middle of your kitchen. 

“Like shit” you reply and she chuckles.

“There’s some coffee. It’s not as good as the one you make, but it will do. I should go” she sets her cup down, sighing.

“You don’t have to…” you want her to stay. But you don’t know what will happen if you ask her.

“I do, actually” she walks towards the door, but you endure the pain to meet her at the threshold. 

“Nat”

“No” she shakes her head, without looking back at you. “You have no idea how hard it is to watch someone you love hurt themselves”

The word love echoes, making you take a step back.

Natasha turns to look at you, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“I guess you were bound to find out eventually”

“Natasha” you plead, not knowing what to say.

“No, I don’t want to hear it. I won’t go into this when you’re going through hell and all i’ve done is watch you from afar. I guess I just want you to know…” she wipes the tears and looks at you. “You buy my favorite brand of peanut butter. You wake up one hour before I do, but the coffee is done only when I’m up. My water bottle is always full and cold before going to the gym. You charge my phone when I forget to, and when it’s late and I’m still working you stop by and tell me you made too much pasta just so I eat something…. You’re not a bad person. You’re wonderful and I wish I could have told you sooner. I’m sorry” Natasha turns around and leaves.

You don’t stop her this time.

—

It’s been three days and Natasha hasn’t heard from you. To be fair, she said a lot of things and didn’t wait for you to reply, so that might have been a bad idea.

Talking to Clint might be the only solution and she’s looking for him when you leave the conference room, followed by Maria and Steve.

Tony approaches you from the other side and Natasha waits around the corner.

“I’m sorry about what I said” Stark says and you nod.

“Fair enough. Not sorry about punching you, though”

“Fair enough” he repeats, smiling.

When they all leave, you turn back, your eyes meeting Natasha’s.

“Hi” you approach her, hands inside your pockets.

“How are you feeling?”

“Sober”

“That’s good”

“Mhm” you nod, holding her stare. Your eyes travel to her lips and you sigh. “Can we talk?”

“We don’t have to…”

“I wanna show you something. It won’t take long, I promise. What do you say?” you offer your hand and she stares at it for a second.

When Natasha nods and takes it, you hold her tight, leading her out of the Compound.

—

“She loved Central Park” you remember, walking around the benches, Natasha’s hand still in yours. “The whole city, really”

“She liked it because you live here, I think” Natasha says and you nod.

“Well, that and the pizza”

“Right” the redhead nods. You find a bench and lead her to it, pointing at the plaque.

Love is only for the brave, followed by your mother’s name.

“Is something she said often. Figured it might be nice to have it here, for people to read and gather courage”

“That’s a beautiful way to remember her” Natasha nods, aware that you’re moving closer.

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you what I thought back at my place, Nat” 

“You don’t need to explain anything” she interrupts, giving you a way out.

“I didn’t think you liked me that much. And I absolutely thought I was being more discreet about my feelings for you” 

“It’s hard for me to think that love makes you brave… or strong” Natasha says, taking a step forward so you’re inches apart. 

“I know. Please let me show you?”

“I think I’d like that” she nods, leaning forward until your lips meet in a short kiss.

When you break apart, you remember that time your mother visited. How she insisted Natasha looked at you in a special way. 

“What’s so funny?” Natasha asks against your lips when you smile.

“I love you” you say and she pulls you closer.

Everything will be ok, as long as you have each other.