#him on the bus ride plane ride home

[jrueships]

🙄

😋

[puck-luck]

smutception | jack hughes

warnings: EXTREMELY META, elevator sex, oral (m! and f! receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, spit kink, dom/sub tones, thigh riding, attempted phone sex, cum on the body, slight degradation, name calling, masturbation, handjob, squirting, tittyfucking, i don’t even know what else. this was a long one with a LOT of shit. pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader summary: inspired by a request from @captainlexaproluvr, which is far too long to paste here. here’s our summary instead: when jh accidentally picks up his gf’s kindle for a roadie instead of his own, he finds some surprising books downloaded. they give him a few ideas for what he’ll do when he gets home in a week… wc: 10,002

The bus rides to the airport are never fun, in Jack’s opinion. He loves his teammates, but they’re loud and annoying. He’s loud and annoying too, most of the time, but he started a really good book yesterday. He’s been thinking about reading it all day. Jack made sure to pack his Kindle in his bag, even though he had gotten distracted by your goodbye.

It started when he got back from Prague, after the Global Series. He had written off your excitement to see him as a one time thing, fueled by missing him and manifesting in an intense need for him to make it up to you– you had stopped the elevator from the garage of his apartment building and begged him to take you right there. He did, obviously, and the rush that went up his spine from how public it was led to a conversation about how Jack definitely wanted to do stuff like that again. 

He was right about one part: you jumping his bones after a roadie was a one-time-thing. The pattern changed– now, you have a habit of doing something different in bed before his roadies. It’s become somewhat of a superstition for Jack.

There was the short roadie in mid-October, when he’d gone down to Carolina and up to Ottawa for a few days. You had woken him up early that morning, kissing him and poking at him until he got fed up and pinned your wrists down. You made him late that morning, delaying the team bus for the airport, because you just had to roll your hips against his morning wood. Then, while you packed a little roadie snack for him, you just had to be naked. It’s not his fault he wanted to bend his pretty girlfriend over the counter and ruin her again.

When you joined him for the first game of his Canadian tour (Vancouver for the Hughes Bowl, then Calgary and Edmonton), Jack and Luke decided to fly with you from Jersey to Michigan to meet up with the parents ahead of time. Then, you all flew together from Michigan to Vancouver. That was normal.

What wasn’t normal was when you leaned over to Jack in the middle of the plane ride and whispered, “You know what might be fun?” with a squeeze to his clothed cock before disappearing towards the bathrooms. It took a few minutes for that one to click (and a picture of your bare tits that you sent Jack from the bathroom over the airplane WiFi), but he ended up fucking you in that tiny, cramped, closet-sized bathroom. It was thrilling.

Jack went to Florida after that– before he left, you rode his face on the living room couch while jacking him off until he came with the tip of his cock just past your lips.

He really missed the goodbyes for the first half of December, when the only away game he had was about an hour away on Long Island. It barely counted, but Jack whined about needing his good luck charm anyway, so you’d gotten down on your knees and sucked his cock all while grinding against a pillow between your legs, coming from just that. Jack was too distracted by the thought of you rutting against the pillow because you were drunk off of his cock to play well that night.

He’d liked it so much that he’d asked you to do it again before he left for Columbus and St. Louis and you’d eagerly complied. It wasn’t any less sexy the second time around.

Jack loves your goodbyes. He loves you, obviously, and would love you even if you weren’t giving him these goodbye gifts, but they’re just so special. Jack is addicted. 

He doesn’t know where you’re getting the ideas from– the position or act is never something that pops into his head. Maybe that’s why he likes it so much. Maybe he likes that you’re the one taking charge and expecting things from him, although he equally loves when he gets to do whatever he wants with you on a regular day. 

Now, he’s leaving for California. He has two games in Carolina first, but then he’ll be on the west coast for a while. He’ll be gone for Christmas and New Years, which is annoying. He knows that it’s just the way that things worked out scheduling-wise, but he likes getting to shower you with presents and watch you open them, and he likes to drink a lot of alcohol with you and kiss you at midnight to ring in the next year. 

You made up for it this morning, your goodbye causing him to forget about any gripe he might’ve had about missing you for so long. You appeared in the doorway as he was packing up the last of his bags, wearing this flouncy little white nightgown with tiny roses decorating it like polka dots. It was the picture of innocence, but your actions were anything but. That enough was to drive Jack crazy, but when you sat him down on the edge of the bed and straddled his thigh, it shattered any possibility of functional thought. You told him not to touch you, pouting about being left alone for so long on your own– and you proved to him that you can take care of yourself just fine. 

If he thought watching you grind against a pillow was bad, it was even worse to have you soiling his dress pants with your slick and your cum. All the while, he couldn’t touch you– it was torture. It was madness. It was the hottest thing Jack has ever seen. 

After you came all over his thigh, you helped Jack change out of his pants– that was your excuse to get your lips on his cock and prevent him from arriving to player check-in with a raging erection– and chose a new outfit for him to wear. You’d kissed his lips and patted his side, reminding him not to forget his Kindle because you knew how excited he was to finish his new book on the way to Cali. 

You left to get ready for the day and he had, on embarrassingly wobbly legs, wandered around the house to find his pocket-library. It wasn’t where he left it, but he ended up finding it on one of the bookcases in his living room, swiping it and tossing it into his backpack without another thought because he was, once again, running late. 

It’s a habit now. The boys have joked about buying him a better watch and Jack goes along with it, but he knows that he’ll be late no matter how good his watch is or how early he sets it. As long as you keep saying goodbye to him like this, he’s going to be a poor teammate– he’d rather experience this than be on time, any day of the week.

Your moans from this morning are echoing in his mind, so Jack pops his headphones in and presses shuffle on the playlist he was already listening to. He digs his Kindle out of his book to offer himself another distraction. It’s going to take a lot of overstimulation to prevent another boner, which means he’s going to read his book, the one he’s been so excited about. If he finishes it, he’ll get to update his Good Reads and recommend it to Quinn. 

He traces the lines of the electronic before turning it on, touching the charging port and the power button. Jack smiles. The Kindle had been a gift from you on his birthday. The week after, he had bought you the exact same one. You had matching Kindles and you often shared books like your own little book club. He’s read romances because of you and you’ve read biographies of athletes because of him. It’s fun for him. This is special to him because he’s never done something like this with any of his other girlfriends. It gives him hope that you guys will stay together as long as possible. 

Jack finally turns the Kindle on, stopping short at the sight of the photo of the home screen. This isn’t his Kindle. He accidentally swiped yours.

It’s too late to turn the bus back and with him being on the move, it would just be too much hassle to ask you to mail his Kindle to the hotel. 

Jack chuckles to himself a little bit, digging his phone out of his pocket. He types out a text to you: Accidentally took your Kindle instead of mine :(

It isn’t long until the text bubble signaling your incoming reply appears. Sorry :( just download your book onto my account <3 I’ll read my books on yours in the meantime. 

Then, a second text: At work so can’t reply again til later :( have a good trip J ily!!!! Talk to you soon!!!

Jack replies I love you too and puts his phone away. He clicks through your Kindle, which automatically opened to the app that houses your library of books. He scrolls through, recognizing some of the titles and not recognizing the others. While sliding his finger along the screen, he accidentally fumbles the Kindle as the bus goes over a bump. When he gets a hold on the device again, he sees that his finger tapped one of your books and it opened. 

Jack goes to exit out, ready to download the book he’d been waiting for, and then he spots a familiar name in the first line.

He reads the sentence like a habit– that’s what you do when you see your name somewhere, right? 

The first page is just half of a page. It’s exposition and it’s looking like this book is somewhat of a romance, but he can’t really tell all that much.

“Every year, you go to the lake house with Jack.”

Like any good first line, it leaves Jack intrigued. Who is Jack? Where’s this lake house? How long have you been going? You say every year, but how many years is that?

Jack immediately thinks of his own lake house. He misses Michigan. His imagination solves one of his questions: the lake house in this story, in his mind, is in Michigan. It’s on the same lake as his and it looks the exact same. ‘Every year’ is vague enough that Jack can accept it. It’s meant to be vague. Only one question remains: who is this Jack guy? 

It’s fun to have a character that shares a name with you, so Jack reads on. He’s determined to figure out who this guy is. 

“The past few trips, it’s been a special occasion. You get your mid-summer break from work and you get to spend time with your boyfriend.”

So Jack is the boyfriend of the main character. Jack laughs to himself again– maybe you downloaded this book so that you could think about your boyfriend while you read it. He’s tempted to text you again with a picture of the page, but since you’re at work, you won’t reply for a while. If he’s going to rib you for reading a book about a guy with the same name as him, he wants you to be able to reply immediately. 

“You’ll sit on the patio and watch him fool around with his brothers. You know them both well after dating Jack for so long, but you’re closer with Luke. After all, he rented out the second bedroom in your and Jack’s New Jersey apartment this entire past year. You know Luke better than you ever thought you would because of that.”

Jack is starting to purse his lips as he reads. He has brothers. One of them is named Luke. He lives in New Jersey with his girlfriend and Luke lived with them last year. He’s since moved out, but the coincidence is still there. It’s still…

Weird.

He reads on anyway.

“Jack loves your relationship with his brothers–”

True. 

“but what he doesn’t love is when all of your skin is on display all day for everyone to see. Your little bikinis drive him insane– because everything he wants is right there, but he can’t have it.”

Jack is a little confused about the turn this is taking. This is only the second page of the book– he told himself he wouldn’t read past the first one, but this is just too intriguing– and it’s already talking about sex? The characters are in a long term relationship, so it’s not like this is a one-night-stand, inciting-incident sort of thing. Why would the book start here?

Also– the romances he’s read because of you are a lot more tame than this. Already, he’s starting to squint at the Kindle in disbelief. Is this the kind of shit that you read on your own? He’s ribbed you in the past for not updating your Good Reads enough and now he gets it. Maybe you don’t want the whole world (all of your followers, including your boyfriend and his older brother) to know that you’re reading porn.

“All of his frustration at not being able to do anything about your skimpy clothing comes to a head one day when the Hughes house–”

Jack stops in his tracks. The other coincidences were fine. Jack is a common name. Luke is a common name. Everyone has brothers. Lots of people have lake houses. New Jersey is just one out of fifty states in the U.S.– almost ten million people live there, partially because of its proximity to New York City. 

But all of it together– Jack and Luke Hughes, living together in New Jersey, with another, older brother and a lake house– Jack is convinced. This book was written about him.

He knows fanfiction exists. He’s never interacted with it before, but he has known about fanfiction since the early 2010s. There were a couple of girls in his classes in middle school that loved One Direction and they would talk about fanfiction all the time. It was just amongst themselves, but Jack sat right next to them, so he couldn’t really help but eavesdrop.

Jack knows that he went viral after the draft, considering the influx of people that have followed him in the years since. A lot of those followers, and he’s not bragging, have been women. He just didn’t expect to ever find fanfiction about himself. He thought that was a thing for actors and musicians, not athletes… but the evidence is right in his hands.

Another thing clicks. You, his girlfriend, were reading fanfiction about him. You have it downloaded to your Kindle. Why would you do that if you’ve got the real thing? You could just call his name and he’d be there. Jack isn’t exactly coy about wanting to get it on with you. You’re the one who’s batting him away more often than him brushing you off. He’s always had a higher sex drive than you and been more overt about it–

…until recently.

Jack looks up from the Kindle and he starts to grin. He catches himself and brings his hand to his mouth, tracing the line of his bottom row of teeth with the tip of his fingernail. 

His initial surprise, which manifested in that weird smile and his breath of laughter, turns into a brief flash of judgment.

It’s weird that his girlfriend is reading fanfiction about him. He’s right there. Does he not satisfy you enough? Are you unhappy with how he acts in bed? You’ve never complained– if you don’t like something, you should talk to him. Right?

Jack finds himself frowning and clicking through the Kindle again. He’s searching for something in particular– the book that compiles all of your highlights and notes. He knows how you are– you’re a highlighter. You have a lot of opinions and thoughts about the things you read and you’re all about writing them down. You do it so you don’t forget what to say when you talk about your books with Jack later. There’s no way that you didn’t have anything to say about the porn about your boyfriend.

He finds the highlights and notes easily. He starts to flick through it, scanning the page for comments from books that he doesn’t recognize and doesn’t find anything until the tenth page of notes. 

He catches the first comment in the same way that he discovered your smut-stash in the first place. He sees his name.

“Jack moves like he’s drunk on the feeling of you, soft noises falling from his lips like he’s trying not to be too loud. You can almost feel the elevator shaking with his movements.”

Jack’s lips part in surprise. He taps the highlight, looking for more information. He’s looking for your comment– and all he gets is an “oh.”

It’s frustratingly vague. “Oh”? What does that even mean?

Jack releases a scoff and clicks along. He reads the sentence again, this time focusing on a familiar detail. Jack was fucking his girlfriend in an elevator. You jumped his bones in the elevator a few weeks ago. Jack’s not sure that’s a coincidence– after all, none of the details in the first story were coincidental.

He checks when you left that comment– and he was right. You left the comment while he was in Prague.

Jack feels a bit like a detective as he repeats the process, searching for more highlights and comments. He finds several interesting ones:

“Maybe, if you’re lucky, you can cut down on Jack’s time to get ready by making his breakfast for him, and he’ll reward you by bending you over the counter. He can never deny you another round when he sees himself dripping out of you so beautifully” was also highlighted while he was in Prague.

“You make your way into the bathroom and press your back against the door, feeling lightheaded at the rush– in just a few minutes, you’re going to have your boyfriend’s cock inside of you, but thousands of feet off the air. The thought of it, how dirty it is to have sex in such a public yet confined space, makes you whimper” while he was in Carolina and Ottawa.

“‘Wanna sit on this pretty face,’ you tell him. ‘While I gag on your cock’” while he was in Edmonton. 

The next one is– dirtier. Jack feels warm when he reads it. You highlighted it while he was gone in Florida and it’s clearly the inspiration for the goodbye you gave him before he went to Long Island that one night, the night when you nearly gave him a heart attack by coming on the pillow between your legs.

The other part that you highlighted… didn’t happen… but Jack has a feeling that you want to try it, given the comment you left on the highlighted page.

“Jack tilts your head up and you open your mouth, showing him that you swallowed every drop that he awarded you. Jack spits a thick wad onto your tongue again, the weight of it heavy on your muscle although, in reality, his saliva would weight next to nothing.”

Your comment says: “...& he spits on the ice all the time but never in MY mouth??”

He would if you asked. But that’s not the end of the quote– his favorite part is yet to come.

“The heat in his eyes and the taste of him in your throat pushes you to your peak, your hips erratic against the pillow. Your legs are shaking, trembling as you tip over the edge and release over the object between your legs.”

Yeah, he likes that one.

The final comment that Jack reads is from his most recent roadie in Ohio and Missouri. It’s what happened this morning. 

“‘Nah, I don’t think I will,’ Jack replies. ‘How about you get yourself off on my thigh and I’ll consider rewarding you for being so pretty and self-sufficient?’... ‘Let me see how pretty you are when you make yourself come, thinking of me.’ Your hips are rocking along the strong muscle of his thigh as he kisses you again.”

“Dirty girl,” Jack murmurs aloud, not realizing that he said such a thing audibly. Luckily, Nico is the only one close enough to hear him, and he always sleeps like a rock when they’re driving to the airport, or on the plane, or driving to the hotel from the airport. It’s the perfect combination.

So you’ve been reading smut while Jack is away. You’ve been getting ideas from fanfiction about how to fuck him.

Jack should be upset and uncomfortable because you’re reading about a fake version of him, but really, he’s just turned on. You think about him. If it was some other guy, maybe he’d be more upset… but no. You’re reading fanfiction about him and recreating the parts you like with him. Even in your little romance books, you want to read about him.

He’s elated, because, well… two can play at that game.

Jack was excited to read his book, but reading your books seems like a much better time and a much better way to entertain himself on this roadie.

He spends the next two weeks perusing your Kindle library for more books about him. They’re all short and most of them are written in second person, although some are in first and third person. Most commonly, though, it’s in second person as some sort of “Reader-puts-herself-in-Main-Character’s-shoes” sort of thing. Jack doesn’t like the books where the author writes “Y/N.” He’s not quite sure what it stands for, so he just tries to avoid it. 

Is it weird that he’s reading fanfiction about himself? Maybe, but he tries not to think about it too long. He’s doing it for you, for his girlfriend, because he wants to show you exactly what he found. Dirty, dirty girl.

About halfway through the roadie, he tries to hint that he knows about your secret. You’re on the phone and he tries to start a little phone sex action based on something he read the other day, when Merc left the hotel room and Jack was left alone. He’s alone again now. He doesn’t know where Dawson is, so he isn’t very subtle with his hinting.

He just parrots his favorite sentence back to you. 

“So, baby,” Jack says, grinning to himself. “‘Why don’t you touch your pretty little clit for me?’”

It doesn’t work. You just start laughing. “Jesus, J. That came out of nowhere.”

Jack pouts to himself. Maybe you haven’t read that one yet. He figured you would recognize the words.

He gives up on the reveal, deciding to save it for when he’s home in just another week. He gets to tell you how much he misses you and how much he wishes he could see you. He wishes you a belated Merry Christmas and he gets to spend midnight on the phone with you– your time, not his. He blows a kiss through the phone… and that’s that.

He’s back to being alone with your little stories. Jack’s able to restrain himself for the most part, but he is willing to admit that they pique his interest... and his cock sometimes grows to reflect just how interested he is.

He returns to the first story on the bus ride back from the airport to Jersey. It’s symmetrical that way and he kind of likes the idea of finishing his journey with your Kindle and your fanfictions where it originally began. It’s a full circle moment.

The story is a few thousand words, just about ten pages on the device. There are multiple rounds written into it– definitely a score, because in real life, multiple rounds is a luxury for Jack. He gets sleepy after the first and needs a break. Fictional Jack might be setting some unrealistic standards compared to real Jack, but at least real Jack can actually fuck you. All fictional Jack can do is… allude to it. He never actually gets to do it.

Jack’s favorite part of the story comes toward the end. You’ve been wearing your bikinis all summer, teasing Jack with the knowledge of what’s beneath the scrap of fabric. He’s seen your tits plenty of times before, but it always gives him a thrill to see them. One of his favorite things is getting to come all over them and mark them as his, which fictional Jack gets to do.

“You kneel below him, looking up at him with wide and bleary eyes. Jack smirks at you, his hand leisurely stroking his cock. His tip is an angry red, bleeding precum from his slit, but he still doesn’t increase his pace.

‘Ask me for it,’ Jack says, tilting his head to the side. When you open your mouth, Jack taps the head of his cock against your bottom lip, distracting you. Your tongue darts out to lick the salty precum away, but Jack evades you, laughing softly. ‘Such a slut. Well– for me, right? You want to walk around with your tits out all the time, but you’re so easy for my cock. You’re all mine, aren’t you?’

‘Jack, please,’ you pout. ‘I want your cum. Come on my tits.’

Jack slows his hand. Then, he stops stroking himself altogether.

‘What–’ you question involuntarily, brows furrowing and frown deepening. You push your chest out, trying to make the canvas more appealing for Jack. Why did he stop?

‘Give me your hand,’ Jack instructs, holding his hand out with his palm up so that you can take it. You give him your hand, waiting for him to help you up like a gentleman. That’s how this feels, like the momentum of the moment has completely halted. You’re so confused that you’d accept it if Jack just… denied you completely.

Instead, he brings your hand to his cock. He encourages you to curl your fingers around the length, watching your eyes as it slowly dawns on you. You resume his pace, lacking confidence at first and then realizing that this is better.

‘Do it yourself,’ Jack says. ‘You want me to mark you up?’ He bucks his hips forward once, just to throw off your rhythm. ‘Make me.’

You’re whimpering a little bit, puffing out your chest again and shuffling closer on your knees. Your body is practically brushing his from mere proximity. Your other hand comes to Jack’s thigh, tracing his light hair gently in comparison to the increasingly rapid strokes to his length.

Jack gathers your hair in his hand like he does when he fucks your mouth. As if on instinct, you open your mouth. Jack’s smirk reappears. ‘Easy,’ he reminds you again, taking his other hand and cradling your chin. He tilts your head back and spits, aiming at your lips. The difference is, he’s standing and you’re kneeling, so the spit doesn’t find its mark. Instead, it lands on your face. You blink in surprise and Jack uses his thumb to corral the saliva towards your mouth. There’s nothing really left by the time his thumb finds your lips, but you latch on like his digit is a flowing faucet in the middle of Death Valley.”

It turns out, spit is a thing for Jack too. He’s always liked to come on your body, but he didn’t even consider the possibility of a different liquid. Coming on you is a possession thing, and spitting is similar… it’s demeaning, showing that you’re under his control, but Jack likes it because you’d trust him enough to take it. It’s gross, but you’d still let him spit on you and into your mouth.

Well, in theory. He’ll see if you’re actually willing to do such a thing tonight.

Like he said, two can play at that game.

Jack barely bids adieu to his teammates. He speeds home, probably faster than he should knowing how the NJPD can be. He has no plan for if he gets pulled over. Luckily, he doesn’t, and he makes it home in record time. 

You’re asleep in bed. It’s early in the morning, but only about an hour before your alarm goes off for work. Timing might be the one thing that really annoys Jack about his job– the game wasn’t finished in California until almost one in the morning in New Jersey, then he had to take the bus to the airport, fly home, take the bus back to Prudential Center, and drive home. It took more time than he wanted it to and he feels bad waking you up, so Jack just climbs into bed and wraps his arms around your sleeping figure. You must’ve felt bad about waking him, because when he blinks his eyes open, you’ve already left for work.

Jack doesn’t find a good time to reveal your secret in the days after his return. You both do your normal routine. Jack returned on Tuesday. His next away trip isn’t until Friday, and once again, it’s a one-night, tiny roadie. He’s only going 30 minutes up the road to MSG. You’re coming with him. By all accounts, he shouldn’t even count it as a roadie.

Jack is desperate to show you that he knows. He also wants you to know that he’s okay with it– that he likes that you read about him and imagine him while he’s gone. He might be eager and rushing things, but this is his first chance to catch you off guard and he’s going to take it. He wants to establish this new routine early– now.

He sits on the couch, his hockey bag already packed and by the door. It’s a night game, so you’ll have time to get ready after work. Jack doesn’t have time. He’s hoping to intercept you as you walk through the apartment door, getting his kicks before he ends up being too late to the arena. Because it’s so close, he gets to drive himself to the arena. He can speed again, but New York City is so fickle with traffic that he knows he’ll run into trouble if you don’t get home, like, imminently. 

Big word, yes, but he’s been reading a lot lately. He was always better in school than Quinn and Luke, too. Not a brag– just a fact.

He also seems to have a future (ha, get it?) in predicting the future, because you arrive home just a few minutes later. You set your stuff down on the dining room table before joining Jack on the couch and greeting him with a little kiss.

“Thought you’d be gone by now,” you say, pressing another kiss to his lips and curling into his side. 

Jack wraps his arm around your waist and grins at you, crooked and shit-eating. “Couldn’t leave without getting my good luck charm first, eh?”

You laugh at him, pressing your hand against his chest, right over his heart. “It’s barely a roadie. You’re literally coming back here tonight and I’m going to the game.”

“You know how hockey players are with their superstitions,” Jack pouts, poking your side until you let out a sarcastic and dramatic sigh, rolling your eyes while you climb onto his lap like you don’t love sitting there. 

“I know how my hockey player is with his superstitions,” you reply, placing your palms on Jack’s jaw and squishing his cheeks together a little bit. 

Jack wiggles beneath you, still grinning and jostling you on his lap in the process. He’s already half-hard from his excitement about surprising you with your own fantasy. 

“But,” you continue. Your hands fall to his chest again. “I don’t have any ideas for you, sweetheart.”

“That’s okay,” Jack says. “I have plenty.”

You laugh, tossing your head back. “Of course you do.”

“Well, I was reading this book on my roadie,” Jack starts.

“Oh, yeah, we never talked about that. Was it good? I know you were really excited to read about–”

“Not that one,” Jack interrupts. “I didn’t end up reading that. I’ll probably read it when we go to Toronto next week.”

A look of confusion passes over your face. “Then what did you read?” You question.

Jack just smiles, waiting for it to click in your head. There’s only so much that he’d be able to read on your Kindle. You’d read one of your normal books last night and clearly hadn’t noticed anything different on the device, so you can’t immediately think of a book that Jack would read.

You narrow your eyes at him, suspicious. “What did you read?” You repeat, voice cautious.

Jack wiggles his eyebrows, hands inching down to cover your behind. He rolls his hips up against your core. He’s still smiling.

Your lips part, mouthing half of an interrogative word to yourself while you think. You’re fiddling with Jack’s t-shirt, evaluating him.

Jack brings a hand up to your neck, cupping the back and pulling you in for a kiss. You come easily, kissing Jack’s lips. Your movements are slightly stilted, still thinking about Jack’s literary options.

His hand moves from the back of your neck to your jaw. He lets his thumb and his forefinger smush your cheeks. 

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Wait– open your mouth again, baby?” Jack prompts, feigning concern. 

You automatically obey him, still looking confused. “What?” You try to ask with an open mouth, the word coming out garbled. 

Jack grins, subtly gathering a wad of saliva in his mouth while he looks into your mouth. There was nothing there, he just needed an excuse to get your mouth open. This is better than outright saying it. From your comments, he knows that you’re at least interested. If you hate it, you’ll talk about it later. He wants to see the realization on your face. It’s a big risk, knowing that you could cringe and flinch and react negatively, but Jack has a feeling you won’t.

He grips your cheeks, keeping your mouth open as wide as you’ll allow. Jack misses the flash of alarm and understanding in your eyes because he’s busy aiming at your mouth. Jack spits his saliva onto your tongue and releases his grip on your cheeks. Your mouth clamps shut and you stare at him, eyes wide and thoroughly shocked.

Jack quirks an eyebrow at you, satisfied by your frozen figure atop his lap. He checks the clock over your shoulder, seeing that he’s really running out of time. He was supposed to leave about five minutes ago. 

An idea pops into Jack’s head. He could leave you here, processing things, and go play his game. Then, he can come back later and pick up where he left off. 

Deciding to do that, Jack plops a chaste kiss on your lips before he stands, still cradling you with your knees squeezing his hips, but legs not quite wrapped around his middle. He lays you on the couch and kisses you again before returning to his full height. He thumbs over your bottom lip as if he’s wiping away his kiss. 

“Bye, baby,” Jack bids you, then gathers his stuff and leaves the apartment.

You don’t say anything or move an inch until after he’s gone.

Jack plays a great game. He knows you’re in the wag suite and he knows that he makes it onto the jumbotron a few times– probably even more on the live television feed that plays in the suite– just because of how well he’s playing. He makes sure to spit on the ice way more often than he normally does, just to send you a message.

In the back of his head, Jack realizes that people who write fanfiction will be thirsting over these clips of him spitting. Good. More things for you to read while he’s gone.

You’re home by the time he makes it back. You’re on him from the second he walks through the front door. 

“You read my–”

“Your secret fanfiction?” Jack teases. “It was an accident at first, but then I realized who it was about.”

You groan, whining as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and bury your face in his neck. Jack knows you’re blushing and he just laughs, cradling your body in his arms. Jack kisses the side of your head, burying his nose in your hair and smelling your shampoo.

“Is that why you spat in my mouth?” You question, voice muffled against his skin. 

Jack laughs again, smiling and swinging you around in his arms playfully. “You seemed to like that bit in your books.”

“It was only in, like, one,” you deflect. 

Jack snorts. “It was in four, baby, and those are just the ones that I read.”

You grumble again, pressing your lips against his neck in a miserable kiss. “You’re so weird,” you tell him. 

“You’re the one reading fanfiction about your boyfriend while he’s away,” Jack replies. “Then you’re recreating it.” He pauses. “‘Such a slut. Well– for me, right?’”

“Oh my God,” you wail.

“Tell me, baby, what do you do when you’re reading those little stories? Do you touch yourself?”

“Jack,” you complain.

“C’mon, sweetheart. You’ll take my spit in your mouth but you won’t tell me if you touch yourself to the thought of me?”

“You are so weird,” you say again. 

Jack feels triumphant, proud of himself. He’s glad that you’re still wrapped up in his arms, even though you’re embarrassed and red. 

“Can I recreate my favorite one?” Jack asks, kissing your head again. “Like you did?”

You pull back from him, fingers finding the nape of his neck and toying with his hair. You seem skeptical, eying him. “You really read them enough to have a favorite one?” You ask, bottom lip sticking out for Jack to lean down and capture between his teeth. 

He nibbles playfully until you start tugging at his locks, convincing him to back away. “‘Course I did,” Jack says, shrugging. “These writers seem to think I’m very good at pleasing you.”

You start to laugh, shaking your head.

“Do you write them?” Jack asks.

That brings you up short. “Do I write them?”

“Yeah. You know how I fuck best, don’t you?” Jack taps your nose with his own. “So, do you write?”

You make a face. “No. I’m not much of a writer.”

That’s true– you’ve often complained to Jack about how you’d like to be able to write as well as your favorite authors. He should’ve thought about that. Instead, he goes back to his most pressing question.

“So?” Jack asks.

“So, what?”

“Can we recreate one?”

He wants you in a tiny bikini or your prettiest push-up bra, your meticulous hand jerking his cock until he comes all over your chest. He wants to spit in your mouth again.

“Which one?”

Jack detangles you from his arms and crosses over to the thermostat. He punches up the heat to 80ºF, turning to look at you.

“Oh, no,” he simpers sarcastically. “It’s so hot in here. It’s like when we’re at the lake house in Michigan during the summer and you wear your bikini around the house all day, teasing me.”

You look thoroughly unimpressed. “You don’t have to turn up the thermostat. You can just ask me to put on my bikini, baby.”

Jack sticks his tongue out at you and resets the thermostat. “Will you put on your bikini for me?”

“Yes. Also, J, I didn’t read that one yet.”

Jack is delighted. He really gets to guide you through this, leaving you in the dark like he was the first few times you acted out a fanfiction together without his knowledge. “Good,” he says. “Then you’ll be just as surprised as I was when I read it.”

You roll your eyes once more, hiding a smile, before you disappear down the hall and into the bedroom. Jack puts his hockey stuff on the balcony like always. You tend to complain that it stinks. He’s used to it by now, having played hockey for so many years. The smell is nothing.

He joins you in the bedroom and finds you in your bikini, just like you said you’d be. It’s the white one that you’ve had for ages, since before Jack started begging you to go to the gym with him. He asked you to do so so that he could watch you work out and get all sweaty– hot– and he doesn’t regret it one bit. You were less broad then. The musculation broadened your hips and your chest, like it was expected to. Age has also helped– you once complained to Jack about looking different than you used to, so he looked it up so that he could find some way to comfort you that was steeped in fact rather than sympathetic words, and he found that women go through a second kind of puberty in their life where they become even more womanly. That’s the best way he can describe it. Jack doesn’t care that your body has “changed” since he started dating you. He barely even notices, except in moments like these. 

The swimsuit is small on you. It doesn’t cover everything the way it used to when you first bought it. The triangular cups spread only so far over your tits, leaving sideboob for Jack to gawk at. The bottoms are wrenched up over your hips and you’re facing away from him, so he gets to see the way that the fabric bunches and tries to ride up between your cheeks. 

He can’t help it. He crosses the room and grabs at your ass, completely groping you. It would be inappropriate if you weren’t together and minutes away from fucking. Luckily, Jack gets to touch you whenever he wants. It’s the best thing ever.

“Ja-ack,” you complain, drawing his name out and turning towards him. Jack is reluctant to let go of your lower half, so he circles his arms around your waist to keep his hands on your skin. He splays his fingers out as much as he can before he cups the weight of your behind in each palm, pointedly inching closer to grind his hips against your front. 

“Pretty girl,” Jack compliments, claiming your lips again with his. He never gets enough of kissing you. 

You kiss him back, then you bring your hands down and grope his ass in the exact same manner as he’s groping yours. 

“Hey,” Jack exclaims, his touch flying to your hands and removing them. 

“Oh, so you can do it but I can’t?” You question. “That’s not fair.”

“I don’t have an ass like yours!”

“Are you calling me fat?”

This is your go-to line when Jack compliments your figure– particularly your ass and your tits. He was absolutely shocked and affronted the first time you pulled that line out of thin air, but this time might be the millionth time you’ve asked him if he thinks you’re fat, so he’s used to it.

Jack bites his lip and wiggles his eyebrows, putting his hands on your assets again. “Calling your ass fat,” he replies. “I love this fat ass.” He punctuates his tease with a squeeze.

You burst out laughing. “You’re so fucking weird!” You repeat again.

“Get on your knees,” Jack says. He’s trying to inflect his words like Bob asking Linda to undress in Bob’s Burgers. He knows you’ll get the reference, even though you don’t react.

You give him a little look, just a slight cut of your eyes, and then you kneel down. Jack’s cock twitches in his pants at the mere sight of it.

He cups your jaw with one hand and tilts your chin up, biting his lip as he admires you. “Easy,” Jack says.

“Well, I’m not going to fucking fight you, Jack. You’re the one who wants to recreate this fanfiction and I’ve never read it, so obviously I’m going to listen–”

While your mouth is moving, Jack gathers spit. Instead of letting it fly from his mouth towards your face, Jack lets it drip in a long line until you realize what he’s doing and stop talking. He quirks an eyebrow, prompting you. 

You open your mouth again and let his saliva fall onto your tongue. 

Jack pats your cheek and you close your lips. Jack waits, but he sees no movement in your throat. 

“Swallow,” he tells you.

And you do. 

Jack can’t really describe the feeling that washes over him. It’s simultaneously exciting that you will take anything he gives you and like an honor that you’ll do something so– odd? Is that the word? Jack doesn’t know– just because he asked you to.

There’s also the sexy bit, where it’s something from his body that you’re swallowing. He’s always loved it when you swallow his seed, but that’s so much more normalized. Every guy likes that. Not every guy does this spit thing.

“That’s my girl,” Jack says. He bends down and kisses your forehead as a reward. 

You don’t seem to have the words to form a reply.

“Was that okay?” Jack asks. He needs to make sure that your speechlessness is because it’s sexy and you like it, not because you’re staying quiet and dealing with his actions, just waiting it out until he’s finished. Then, you’ll never do it again and he’ll never be the wiser that you hated it.

You nod. “Yeah,” you agree quietly. “I like it.”

Jack’s anxiety melts. “I’m not making you do this?”

You shake your head. “No. It’s–” You shrug and look down.

“Tell me,” Jack implores gently. “I need to know.”

“It’s different is all. Now I’m thinking about it too much, I don’t want to think about it.” You pout up at Jack, looking a little sad. 

He wants to solve it for you. “Okay, we don’t have to talk about it. As long as you like it, that’s enough.”

“I like it,” you confirm. You touch his knee, then the front of his pants. “Can I show you how much I like it?”

Jack nods, bringing his hands to his belt and undoing it. He unzips himself and drops the dress pants to his ankles, letting you do the work on his briefs. “You can,” Jack says. “But you have to stop before I come.”

You’re pulling him out of his underwear as he speaks, but you pause when he tells you when you have to stop. You look up at him, hand circling his cock. He’s been growing hard this whole time, so his cock is standing out towards your face even without your hand guiding it. Once, you were making fun of him, and you compared his dick to a compass trying to find “true North”– you. Jack has thought about that moment every single time you take his cock out since you said it. He’s been able to move past it, but he thinks about it nonetheless.

“I’m never the problem when it comes to stopping,” you bite at him, your words pointed and knowing. 

“Fuck off,” Jack sneers playfully. You might be right, but that’s not fair. He likes to come, he doesn’t want to stop himself. “Suck my dick, baby.”

You stick out your tongue at him, but then you take him in your mouth.

Like most times, all thought leaves Jack’s head. When he fucks you, or when you’re taking care of him, there’s rarely anything actually flowing through his head. His mind is just automatically filled with holy shit– mouth– warm– tongue– oh, I hope you do that again– fuck, shit, oh my God– wait, don’t thrust, you don’t want to gag too much– on a loop. 

When he looks at you, his heart is lurching because of the slopes of your cheekbones and the wide, blown out look in your eyes. He can’t look at you and feel your movements at the same time because he will come down your throat. He’s just a man. He’s simple. 

Jack takes you by the hair and stops you, pulling out of your mouth and stepping away. He’s breathing more heavily than before and his cock is throbbing with a need to release. His hand circles his base, trapping himself and providing a bit of relief. 

Some of your spit keeps his dick connected to your mouth. It’s hot. Briefly, Jack tries to decide if he’d let you spit in his mouth, but it requires too much thought for the moment, so he tables it for later. 

“Give me your hand,” Jack says.

You comply and Jack curls your fingers around his shaft. You wait for him to tell you what to do– which Jack definitely likes.

“I want to come on your pretty tits,” Jack says, trying not to twitch and jerk his hips when you start to move your hand. “And I want you to make it happen.”

You grin up at him, dipping your head to press a kiss to the tip of his cock before you guide him towards your chest. Jack’s cockhead bumps your collarbone before you start to drag your hand in thorough strokes, pointing the tip towards the valley of your cleavage. You look up at him all the meanwhile, watching his face as he succumbs to the pleasure you’re providing to him. 

Jack touches your face with one hand. Your free hand is resting on the front side of his hip, just feeling him. He places his other hand over yours, gripping the appendage in a distorted version of holding your hand.

Warmth shoots through his body, your clenches and twists along his cock hurling him towards the powerful climax that he’s been anticipating since he started reading your little stories on the bus on the way to California.

“Fuck, baby, you’re always so good at that,” Jack tells you, praising you in the way that always brings a sweet blush onto your cheeks. 

You thank him quietly, bashfully, continuing your ministrations until the pleasure overcomes Jack and he moans, watching his cum splash over your skin. It’s the strokes of a masterpiece, but at the same time, Jack is marring the masterpiece that is your body with the white ropes that you’ve drawn from his cock. He’s privileged because he gets to ruin you.

After he comes, Jack brings you up to your feet and kisses you again. He can taste himself on your tongue, tangling with his as you kiss him back. Jack brings his hand between your legs, dipping into the fabric to find that you’re deliciously wet between your folds. 

He teases you with his fingers while he kisses you, letting time pass until you’re wiggling against him and making little noises into his mouth. Jack dips his finger into your hole, only going up to the first knuckle. It’s barely enough to satisfy you, but it allows Jack to belittle you a bit before giving you more, when you beg for it.

Surprisingly, you don’t beg for him to finger you more. You don’t ask him to take your bikini off. You keep kissing him and whining into his mouth, grinding your hips. After only a few more rolls of your hips, you pull away.

“Let me try something,” you whisper, kissing him once more before returning to your knees.

“‘Kay,” Jack agrees, watching you carefully. 

You kneel tall, pursing your lips and focusing on his cock, which is doing its best to fill up entirely for the second time. 

Jack’s eyes nearly pop out of his head when you push your breasts together so that Jack’s cock can rest between them. The pressure from your hands against your boobs, sandwiching Jack’s cock, drives him crazy.

The smug look on your face, knowing what you’re doing to him, makes Jack even crazier. It’s like when you’d recreate your little stories. You were in the know, but Jack was not. Now, you knew that you’d be tittyfucking your boyfriend, and you knew that he’s got a thing for your chest… oh, it’s a dream. Jack might never be able to look at anyone else sexually ever again. Holy shit.

It doesn’t take long for him to become fully hard again. He’s about seconds away from blowing a second load on your chest– an appealing idea, but evidently one that you won’t let happen. 

You pull back, drawing a complaint from Jack’s throat. You stand and push him back onto the bed, Jack pulling you with him. You land on top of his chest with a little ‘oof.’ You push yourself into a seated position, heavy on his lap. 

“Did’ya like it?” You tease, hands planted securely on Jack’s ribcage. You grind down against his naked cock. The soaked fabric of your bikini bottoms bunches up as you roll your hips, then shifts the other way when you rock back. The sensation is far too much for Jack in this state.

Jack puts his hands on your hips and halts your movements. You resist a little bit, ironically going against your words from earlier about not fighting him.

“If you keep doing that, I’m going to come,” Jack says. “I want to come in you, baby.”

“Okie,” you agree like a goof, which gives Jack a little reprieve. You laugh and pat his chest, kneeling up a bit so that you can take his cock in your hand. You shift the crotch of your bikini bottoms to the side and sink down on Jack’s member, enveloping him entirely.

Jack breathes out as you settle against him. He has to close his eyes and push all the air out of his lungs before he can look up at you again.

His cum has dried on your chest. Your hair is wild. Your fingernails are digging into his chest as you start to rise and fall. Your tits bounce, drawing Jack’s eyes. He can’t really decide where to look– your tits, your face, your pussy… which is swallowing his cock greedily and perfectly, the way only you can.

Your walls are gummy and hot. It’s impossible to escape the pleasure or stave off his second orgasm, especially not when you flex your abdomen and rotate your hips in a little figure-eight that has you inadvertently clenching down on him. You’re like a vice, the one with the crank that takes a tight grip and makes it almost clinically impossible to un-attach. 

Jack is probably babbling, although he’s more focused on the sweet little moans and breaths that escape from your mouth. You’re biting your bottom lip, so Jack reaches up to pull it from your teeth. He thinks again of what it would be like to have you spit into his mouth from this vantage point, but then you start to bounce again and he loses the idea into the ether of pleasure. His first two fingers find your tongue and you start to suck, more noises leaving your mouth and sending vibrations up his arm.

His insides start to feel warm and fuzzy, which is when Jack stutters out a brief warning that he’s going to come. He doesn’t know how close you are, but your fingers on one hand have started to flick against your clit in quick motions. Jack watches your fingers move, enraptured by the sight because they’re just so deft– and then he remembers that those fingers spurred him towards an orgasm before, which landed across your chest– and then a little bit of your saliva slides between his fingers and cools in the bedroom air– and Jack comes inside of you. It knocks all of the breath and all of the tension out of his body, leaving him completely blank and new like he’s floating in space without anything around.

The first thing he sees after whiting out from the orgasm is you, legs shaking, writhing so violently from the gratification of your own climax that his cock is displaced from its home in your cunt. His cum drips out of you and the rapid emptiness allows you to pull off Jack’s favorite trick– your orgasm manifests in a squirt that washes over Jack’s pelvis and leaves you grinding into the air for more. 

Jack pushes himself up to a half-seated position to catch you when you sag forward from sheer exhaustion, kissing you again and bringing you to a position where you can straddle his thigh and continue chasing the aftershocks of your climax. You’re mewling into his mouth desperately, hips working, and Jack wants to give you another but he just can’t. He’s entirely spent.

He plugs you with two fingers, filling you because he knows that’s what you need. You hump against his hand as you come down, your kisses becoming less wanton and needy as you exit the rush of emotion you’re experiencing.

Your kisses turn sweet and long, sensual but not intentional. You’re making out just to feel each other, just like how Jack has his fingers inside of you just so that you’re full. 

“That wasn’t exactly what I read,” Jack is able to joke after your rocking stops. 

“No?” You ask, voice thick, the way it is when you first wake up in the morning and you’re not sure what’s real and what’s a dream. Jack loves when your voice gets like that after he fucks you– it means he did a good job and you’re so satisfied that you’re sleepy. Your eyes are closed now and you wrap your arms around Jack’s neck, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.

“I was supposed to spit on your face before you made me come,” Jack says. 

You hum. “I think ours was better.”

“Maybe you should write it down,” Jack teases, which earns him a sharp tug to his hair. He laughs. “Okay, message received.”

You sit in silence for another few minutes. Jack draws shapes all over the expanse of your back– although his favorite is the attempted rose that he puts between your shoulderblades or the series of loopy hearts at the base of your spine. 

“I have another question,” Jack says.

“Hm?”

You really are sleepy. Jack might have to sit you on the counter in the ensuite bathroom and clean you up with a wet rag instead of washing your body of his cum in the shower, which is what he was fully planning to do. That being said, Jack asks his final (series) of question(s).

“That stuff wasn’t, like, actually published, right? People aren’t making money off of my name and life? I don’t have to sue anyone?  I feel like that would be a little embarrassing. I don’t want to go to court because of fanfiction.”

He makes you giggle. “No, baby. They’re not real books. Although, there are probably some real books whose love interests were inspired by you.”

Jack hums. “I’ll allow it.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure they don’t even compare to the real thing.” You kiss his shoulder and toy with his hair a little more before Jack decides to take you to the bathroom and clean you up.

You continue to share your sweet kisses, puckering your lips to ask for another every few minutes, and Jack is hopeless to deny you. Not after you did so well, anyway– letting him do exactly what he wanted, and even improving it by working him over with your boobs and squirting because of his cock. 

Jack takes you back to bed after you’re all clean, cuddling up behind you and spooning you. “Love you,” he murmurs in your ear before kissing your neck. 

“Love you,” you parrot back. “Can’t believe you’re making me find a fanfiction that’s better than that for your next goodbye.”

“I’ll do some research, too,” Jack offers. 

You scoff, shaking your head fondly and laughing at Jack one last time before falling asleep. “So fucking weird.”

notes: this has been in my inbox since MAY ELEVENTH. Cappy's patience cannot be overpraised. she sent me FIVE requests outlining this whole thing, complete with dialogue, most of which was completely thrown out the window when i got my own ideas and actually started writing. you all will likely never see the original requests, but they are so silly goofy looking back on it. i have them written down in my notes app, having done that before i embarked on this journey, and i will probably not delete them because it's a nice little memory. back to my roots.

like i told cappy: this fic was a canon event, a fixed point, in my writing journey. i hope you all SINCERELY enjoy it. i know i've said this before, but this could be my magnum opus <3 i think it is the best contender at the moment.

i hope you all enjoyed!

[ghostaholics]

𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄-𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓

�� PAIRING: Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley x gn!reader (aside from a single idiom whose origin uses masculine language/pronouns - every man for himself) ➸ SUMMARY: Against all odds, the Lieutenant accidentally falls asleep on your shoulder. Unfortunately, there are witnesses to the precarious situation (just your luck that it would be Gaz and Soap). ➸ WORD COUNT: 2k

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄: don't poke the bear.

Danger in your line of work typically consists of trying to walk away from a mission while still being left completely intact (i.e. the goal is to make it out alive, in one piece). You’ve survived a great number of ordeals: cornered into a shootout with a dwindling supply of ammo, tiptoed your way through a field of pressure-sensitive IEDs, dove towards probable death (with an awfully high probability of splattering onto hot, concrete hell like a bug on a windshield) because your helo was sent tail spinning courtesy of a perfectly-aimed RPG – and really, the list goes on.

It's been child’s play, in the grand scheme of things. An extensive catalogue of life-or-death scenarios accounts for your entire military career. And sure, this might be a bit of a stretch, but you'd wager that none of those instances thus far have been as high-stakes as the current predicament you’ve found yourself in.

Jesus-fucking-Christ. Why’d Ghost have to fall asleep on you?

𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: avoid sitting next to him on the plane ride home. You've had to learn it the hard way.

And the kicker is that this whole thing could’ve been avoided; it didn’t have to be your problem. You could’ve sentenced any one of the other soldiers to your seat. Every man for himself, right? Get off scot-free, have a normal trip back to base with plenty of legroom so that you’re not cramped. Theoretically, it would've been beautiful – a passenger's paradise, the closest you could get to a first-class ticket.

But no.

Instead, play the Good Samaritan; extend your hand out with an act of benevolence. What’s the harm, right? So, you'd spared the poor guy, said you wouldn't mind switching places with him because he'd looked as white as a damn sheet at the idea of being crammed beside this behemoth of a lieutenant who's infamously every FNG's living nightmare.

Yeah, well hindsight is 20/20. Had you known what was going to happen, you would've had no reservations about throwing him under the bus. Sayonara, mate.

Law of the jungle, plain and simple.

To make matters worse, he is, in fact, exhibiting terrible flight etiquette. His head (which is dead weight and feels about as pleasant as a fucking bowling ball, mind you) has taken up every inch of real estate on your shoulder and is practically tucked into the curve of your neck; you’ll need to take a trip to the chiropractor’s after this – several, probably. The edge of his skull mask is digging into you. And, the cherry on top: get this – he’s man-spreading, so his left leg's trespassing into your own territory and brushing against your thigh. Utter lack of regard for personal space.

Incredible.

You’d still rather die than wake him up, though. You're not sure what'll happen if you do, but that's a risk you're not willing to take.

All things considered, an achy shoulder is a much better alternative than incurring the wrath of one angry Lieutenant. He's more subdued in this kind of context. To be completely honest, if you weren't already well-acquainted with him, you'd find it endearing.

From here, it's easy to see the simple rise and fall of his chest, steady and even. Slow inhale in, slow exhale out. He's at peace, a rhythmic lull that matches your own breathing. You can't quite put your finger on the exact moment he fell asleep. (He's got a habit of shutting his eyes and folding his arms over his chest when he isn't in the mood to converse with the other soldiers onboard. But God willing, he would never voluntarily loll his head onto your shoulder.) For what it's worth, he deserves the rest – never been one to do it this soundly as countless missions have taught you that he's usually a light sleeper. You remember him roughly prodding the toe of his boot at Soap's arm once when the Scot was conked out and his snores were a bit loud for Ghost's taste.

Rather odd then, that the Lieutenant even managed to allow himself to doze off like this. It’s too loud, too unsteady – the droning of the plane engine doesn't exactly make for good white noise and the turbulence outside is jostling the cabin around. Moreover, this puts him in a position of vulnerability, and he’s not the type to let his guard down so easily.

But somehow he did it with you beside him.

You try not to think about the implications of that.

𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄, 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄.

Because, Soap's just woken up from his nap, the first among the entire company of soldiers in the cabin still sleeping, excluding yourself. His seat's parallel to yours, straight across the walkway within direct line of sight, so he’s got an unobstructed view of you and Ghost. Soap sends a questioning glance in your direction, eyebrow quirked. A look that says, The hell's going on?

The level of your voice is down; it's at a conservative decibel to avoid rousing the others. Yet you convey your distress with the same amount of passion as if you were stuck in the middle of a losing firefight. "MacTavish, help."

Soap works with bombs for a living. Surely, he's capable of defusing situations too.

Alright the man’s a demolitions expert, but that’s semantics.

He blinks like he's trying to make sense of the situation. Though, it's pretty obvious what the problem is here. You're not sure why he’s got to take a moment and contemplate it. You need a solution, now. And he's moving at a snail's pace.

For a second, you think he might sympathize with your plight.

But then his mouth morphs into a shit-eating grin and when he nudges Gaz awake, you know right then and there that you're absolutely fucked.

More witnesses.

Great.

Because that’s just what you need, isn’t it?

Gaz drags a hand down his face. He pans over to his right to figure out why he’s been jolted awake so suddenly, and sees Soap who’s inexplicably, nauseatingly jovial before his eyes land on you.

Much like Soap’s original reaction, Gaz can’t help but offer a quizzical expression. The confusion is evident. His brows are drawn together because he knows that the L.t. wouldn't fall asleep on your shoulder.

Soap's shifting, sliding his hand into his pocket before pulling out his phone. He messes with it – a few taps here, a few swipes there. And then before you're registering what's happening, he's aiming it straight at you, like one of those mums getting a snapshot of their kids in matching jumpers during the holidays.

"Say cheese."

An indignant gasp leaves your mouth. "If you so much as—

"Soap, no. Don't do that." Gaz says from beside him, plucking the phone out of his hands. He tsks him with a click of his tongue. Stern disapproval in spades. The meaning is clear: it’s a big thumbs down from the Brit. He’s not endorsing this type of behavior. “Gone mad now, have you?” he asks in admonishment.

You release a sigh of relief. Finally, some moral support. He's reliable. Your faith in him is unshakable. Always could count on Gaz to get you out of—

"Have to shoot with a wide angle, see? Or else it'll look wonky," he corrects, flipping the phone horizontally before handing it back to Soap.

"Aye, thanks mate.”

Gaz's smile isn't as excessive as Soap's but the smirk gracing his face tells you he's relishing in your misery all the same.

Fucking traitor.

"Knobheads—"

They’d risk their own hides to save you from certain death. You've seen it in Cairo, Valencia, and Seoul. Good men. Good hearts in the right place as well. However, they're also the type to embarrass you at every opportunity – public humiliation being somewhere on that roster as well. And for that, you want to strangle them.

"Rude,” Soap comments pointedly.

"Bite me, MacTavish."

"Just wake him up if it's bothering you," Gaz supplies unhelpfully.

"If you were in my shoes, would you do it?"

"'Course, not," he snorts. "I don’t have a death wish.”

“Well, I also prefer my head on my shoulders, thank you very much," you whisper furiously, nearly hissing at him.

And Soap is admiring his handiwork, when he coos, “Aw, the two o' you make quite the pair." He briefly twists the screen so that you can catch a glimpse of it, and even from this distance, you can confirm that he's captured the shot. Annoyingly well, to add insult to injury. Angle? Spot-on. Lighting? Brilliant. It's interesting, has character. Black and white photography. He's managed to make a stunning composition and your upper lip is curling up into a sneer of disgust at his artistic eye. How infuriating.

"I'll send this to the Cap. He’ll get a kick outta it."

"Sod off."

"He'll appreciate bein' included."

Gaz matches the energy with an equally gleeful smile, now delighted by the idea. “Hey, and the L.t. he looks—”

“—cute," Soap has the audacity to finish for him.

What.

There are many words that you’d use to describe Ghost.

Cutthroat, maybe. Imposing. Glacial. Taciturn. A stringent set of ideals that makes him the perfect soldier: disciplined, honed, fierce. Intimidating, if he's not fighting on your side – someone you'd much rather have on your team than against, unless you fancied death. He can be a stone-cold terror on occasion. The man’s been penned as a walking horror story by those in the military. Given his iron-hearted demeanor, you'd be hard-pressed to disagree with that statement; there's not much room to call his steel-encased resolve into question.

So, yeah. Above all else, he's certainly not cute.

Your eyes narrow at them. "Congratulations, the both of you have officially made the top of my shitlist."

Soap, indifferent to your crisis, asks, "Want a copy for your wallpaper?"

There's another heated remark waiting on the tip of your tongue, because there's no way in hell that you would and you're ready to tell him off, about to give him an earful.

But somebody else beats you to it.

“Wipe that picture, or I’ll wring your bloody necks.”

Ice surges through your veins. Goosebumps break out across your skin. Because that voice belongs to one person. Oh, Christ. Never in a million years would you want to be on the receiving end of it.

There's anxiety warping in your chest. You're scared stiff, paralyzed with fear in a way that implores you to remain stock-still. The coarse fabric of your trousers bunches underneath your palms as you try not to freak out. This isn't your fault. None of it is.

And here's the worst part: Ghost hasn't lifted his head from your shoulder yet.

But Soap's unfazed. He blinks a couple of times, seems like he's weighing his options – as if there's something else he could choose besides following his lieutenant's command – yeah, right. He wises up, settling for a simple answer in the end. "Alright, Ghost." His smile makes a reappearance, sweet and well-meaning. Troublemaker. "Any chance you'd like a copy before I do away with it?"

"What kind of fuckin' question is that, Johnny?" he grumbles. "Obviously."

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄:

"I take it you don't think I'm cute then. Have I got that right?"

"I'm sorry... mind repeating that again, sir?"

"You didn't have anything to say about Soap's comment."

"I have a feeling that whatever I answer will get my arse handed to me, L.t."

He's smiling in response – like sunshine trapped behind clouds. Despite it being obscured by the mask, you can see his eyes crinkling at the corners, which makes the black charcoal that's lining them begin to crease a bit. "Permission to speak freely, Sergeant. You have the floor."

Your mouth parts in surprise. Well, then. Maybe you stand corrected. And so, you appraise him momentarily, giving it some serious thought. There's more to Ghost than you give him credit for. He's terse and rough around the edges, but respected for a reason. Admirable. Someone you think highly of and has deserved your approval. The mask undeniably provides an air of intrigue. “I suppose you can be,” you start off, gradually warming up to him being more approachable. “When you’re not terrorizing the new recruits, that is.”

[keerysfreckles]

decode — OP81 (au)

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader

summary: when two summer camp counselors fall in love in the span of two months

warnings: none! just a long one 😅 i got carried away oopsies, not proofread!!!

a/n: missing my summer camp hours 😞😞 this is how i cope

masterlist !

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

y/n can't remember a summer when she wasn't at the summer camp in her home state. every summer since she was five years old, she was found at camp. when she was fourteen she signed up to be a junior counselor in training, then at sixteen became a counselor in training, and now at nineteen is an official camp counselor from one of the younger girl cabins.

y/n was ecstatic. she couldn't believe her eyes when she got the email that secured her summer job. except it wasn't going to feel like a job. she knew this wasn't going to feel like some chore like others would describe their job to be.

the whole bus ride up to the summer camp, y/n talked with her friends that went to camp with her in the previous years. her two closest friends were sat around her on the bus, sofia and nat. sofia met y/n during her second year of camp, and haven't stopped talking since. y/n and nat knew each other during camp during their last years as campers, but didn't start talking until their counselor in training years.

arriving at the camp felt so surreal for y/n. she was excited to see her second home, and her other friends that arrived yesterday by plane. she wondered if there were any unfamiliar faces this year, besides the new campers.

y/n, nat and sofia grabbed all their belongings and walked to their assigned cabins quickly. nat was going to be with the youngest of the girls, ages five and six. y/n was with the seven and eight year olds. sofia was on the other side of the girls' cabins, working with the twelve and thirteen year olds.

all of the counselors had "meetings" to attend before all the campers arrived tomorrow. no one really considered them as meetings however, knowing they were going to play ridiculous games in the large grassy field until sundown. the camp director thought it was a fun way to "get to know the other counselors".

as nat and sofia were getting a drink of water after a very intense game of dodgeball finished, a new counselor caught y/n's eye. there were three new counselors at camp, but this one was the only one that y/n really wanted to learn about. she looked at him from across the field. he seemed to be taller than her, with slightly pale skin and light brown hair.

"oh great, y/n's got another camp crush," nat appears by her, with sofia coming up on the other side.

"it's not a crush. i don't even know the guy!" y/n defends.

sofia and nat share a skeptical look, before sofia continues. "every year since you were seven you've found a guy to fawn over, and just because we're counselors now, we all know that's not stopping you."

nat chuckles at sofia's words, and y/n just rolls her eyes. she knew sofia was right, but she'd never admit that out loud.

after three more interesting games in the field, all of the counselors walked back up through the forest and towards the dining hall. there weren't any sort of seating arrangements, letting the counselors and other staff members sit wherever they'd like.

most of the counselors knew each other from being campers together, so they were all sat relatively close to one another.

luckily for y/n, the boy she was looking at earlier in the field was sat diagonally from her. she heard from sofia that she talked with him on the way back up from the field. he introduced himself to y/n and nat, and y/n instantly recognized his australian accent.

a handful of international counselors were found at camp every year, and y/n thought it always made it more interesting.

oscar, y/n, nat and sofia continued talking all throughout dinner. one of y/n's old friends from camp, lando, slid beside her halfway through dinner, and him and oscar got along pretty quickly.

at the end of the day, one of the many traditons at camp was for all the counselors to jump into the cold pool. don't ask y/n where this tradition exactly came from. she's been told so many times, yet she never remembers. however it came about, y/n was grateful. she's dreamt of doing this since she was a camper.

all of the counselors were lined up beside the pool, with the camp photographer, lauren, on the opposite side. the counselors were all still dressed, wearing their matching camp polos, and even kept their shoes on.

on the count of three they all jumped in, making the pool erupt in waves as twenty counselors splashed around. some got on each other's backs and were dunking one another, while other couldn't contain their laughter.

as y/n was wiping hair out of her eyes, oscar looked at her with a smirk adorning his lips.

she knew what he was about to do.

"no! oscar don't!" she tries to protest, but her laugh overpowers her words as oscar wraps his arms around the girl and pushes her under the water.

oscar watches y/n's smile widen once they're under water, and her hands are on his arms for a moment, only to push herself to the surface.

nat and sofia watched the interaction, as y/n now started splashing the aussie. "twenty bucks they're together by the end of the summer," nat wages.

"forty."

"thirty."

"thirty-five, final offer," sofia turns to nat.

"deal."

—

the morning the campers were arriving came quickly. so quickly y/n felt like she hasn't slept the night before. she was in the middle of making all the name tags for her campers bunk beds, so no one fights over who gets which one. she was cutting colored paper into simple flowers when sofia knocked on her cabin door.

"what's up sof?" y/n doesn't look up from her task.

"how'd you know it was me? it could've been nat," sofia sat on the twin bed, facing y/n.

"you walk heavy," y/n states, making sofia roll her eyes.

"whatever, unimportant," sofia quickly dismisses, "camp news is that a certain someone was talking about you after we jumped in the pool last night."

y/n groans, setting her paper and scissors down in her lap. "we've only been here twenty-four hours and there's already a rumor?"

"oh shush, you know you love it because lover boy was talking about you," sofia shoves y/n's leg playfully.

"first of all, don't call him lover boy. i only know his name. it's not like i'm deeply in love with him."

"you will be," sofia interrupts.

"second of all," y/n enunciates, "shouldn't you be getting ready for your campers to arrive?"

sofia laughs, "they're twleve year old, edgy, hormonal girls, they're not gonna want cute flowers and lady bugs saying who's sleeping where."

"you're no fun."

twenty-two minues pass and now all the counselors, the camp directior and co-director are all outside waiting for the buses to arrive. y/n was thrilled to meet her first set of campers.

the summer was broken up into three sessions, each session lasting two weeks. campers could choose to stay all three, but most only stayed for one.

y/n prayed her face wasn't flushed as she realized she was standing next to oscar. turns out, he was looking over campers the same age y/n was. the two made comfortable small talk until the buses finally pulled up into the dirt area.

once ever camper was off the bus and given their name tag, everyone made their way to the benches for announcements to start.

y/n's cabin was sat right in front of oscar's, with nat's right beside her. sofia's cabin was on the other handful of benches, considering they were the older campers.

announcements took an hour, as usual, and before everyone knew it, it was time for lunch.

the first lunch of the summer was always so special to y/n, even when she was a camper. this was when she met sofia, and years later she met nat in the mess hall as well.

lunch passed quickly, and y/n was back in her cabin, helping her campers fill out the forms to pick their camp schedules. she learned all of their names, and even learned about their favorite things. y/n's smile never left her face for the rest of the day.

—

three days into the first session and y/n was buzzing. she was in charge of the arts and crafts class campers could pick as one of their activites. she saw a few of her own campers in the morning, and surprisngly a few older boys during the afternoon.

she was in the middle of cleaning from the tye-dye the kids made today. she already hung up their shirts to dry, now she was cleaning off the tables where extra dye had gotten.

"do you need any help?" oscar stepped over the pile of rocks outside the arts and crafts shed, scaring y/n in the process.

"jesus osc, don't scare me like that," y/n laughs as her heartbeat comes back down.

oscar wasn't sure where the nickname came from, but he wanted it to stay.

"shouldn't you be watching over your swimming pool?" y/n asks, knowing oscar's sctivity this session was free swim. she didn't know what he was going to do the other two sessions, she meant to ask him later.

"nah, lando's got the last five minutes covered. all the campers got out anyway, complaining it was too cold." y/n knew lando from her last year as a camper. he was her first kiss, and call it cheesy but it was during the camp dance. neither of them speak ahout it to this day, and they planned to keep it that way.

oscar sat atop one of the cleaner parts of the table, chuckling as he notices y/n very colorful hands.

"why didn't you wear gloves?"

y/n shrugs, "gloves are too much of a hassle. plus after two showers i bet it'll come off."

"i could always dunk you in the pool again."

"no, no never again," y/n can't help but laugh.

y/n throws the dirty rags into a bucket, she makes a mental note to take it to the small camp laundromat later in the evening.

oscar hops down from the table, "do you want to walk with me to dinner?"

"you mean night time announcements?" y/n lets out a giggle at oscar's now pink cheeks.

"yeah uh– that's what i meant."

"how much were you really paying attention during the announcements really meant for the campers?"

"you know i could easily push you right now right?" oscar detours the conversation.

"oh i know you wouldn't."

oscar's about to reply, but y/n's name gets called by a few of her campers walking up beside the duo. she bids oscar goodbye, as she walks with the three younger campers.

dinner goes smoothly as it has been for the past couple of days. oscar smiles to himself when he realizes he's sat next to y/n tonight, with one of her best friends sat across from him.

the counselers were given a different table seating every day. the campers places stayed the same, and they were sat by others their ages. each table had twelve campers, with two counselers at the head and foot of the table.

the first fifteen minutes of every meal is silent, another camp tradition where no one truly knew where it came from. but after those fifteen minutes were up, the mess hall was buzzing yet again.

the campers were starting to take plates and dishes towards the side of the mess hall where the kitchen staff was. oscar stood up from his table, grabbed the extra dessert no one wanted and walked towards y/n.

she was talking with one of the girls at the table, while oscar silently placed the ice cream down. y/n looked to her right and smiled seeing who it was.

the interaction didn't go unnoticed by sofia or nat. sofia was walking back to her table when she saw oscar getting up, and she was quick to point it out to nat.

"you looked like you could use another dessert," oscar sat down on the empty bench besides y/n.

"well i'm sadly already full, but i'm sure maisie here wouldn't mind," y/n boops the blonde girl next to her on the nose before sliding the bowl towards her. "just don't tell the other campers," y/n whispers, earning a giggle from the camper.

"are you excited for the camp dance next week?" y/n asks oscar. each session had their own dance and carnival.

oscar nods, "oh definitely, but i'm more excited about the carnival."

"do you know who booth you guys are in charge of?"

"no clue, but probably something easy since i'm dealing with seven year olds," oscar laughs.

the two continue talking for a moment, until the camp director instructs for all the campers and counselors go to the main building for a movie night.

—

y/n couldn't believe her own eyes. she was watching kids leaving with their parents, while others got on buses to go back home. she was sad when she had to say goodbye to her campers that morning. nat gave her a hug, but it was still hard for her.

nevertheless, she was just as excited to meet the new campers arriving next week. during the counselor's week off, they get a different trip in between each session. the first was a trip to a waterpark near the camp, and everyone was buzzing when they got out of the camp vans.

the day was filled with most counselors riding the water slides, while other tanned or gossiped. there was thirty minutes left of their day pass, y/n and oscar planned on going into the lazy river before they had to go back to the camp.

over the past two weeks the pair has gotten extremely close. they hung out whenever they could. they'd sit by each other at any given moment. a few of the older campers noticed the chemistry that was starting to build between the two.

y/n's right hand and oscar's left one kept grazing while in the lazy river. neither of them were going to do anything about that.

"you've been quiet today," oscar speaks up, looking over to the girl.

"just grateful," her response was simple, but oscar knew how she felt. it was hard for him to say goodbye to his campers earlier in the week, but just like the girl, he was excited about the new campers coming this sunday.

after a few moments of silence, y/n starts to laugh.

"oh god, i broke her," oscar jokes.

y/n keeps laughing, "no, no. i just can't believe you knew practically every move to the line dances from the camp dance."

oscar's face slightly flushed, "you're just jealous of my dancing skills."

"sure osc, that's what it is."

—

exactly two weeks later and the second session camp carnival was in full swing. it was always held on the tennis courts, and each cabin was in charge of a booth. some were definitely better than others, consider five year olds had little to no patience.

at the start of the carnival y/n and her whole cabin were sat around the face painting table, fast forward an hour and a half, now y/n was sat alone, watching all the festivies around her.

"you know you can enjoy the carnival too right?" oscar comes out of nowhere, making y/n jump slightly.

"can you stop scaring me like that?" she laughs, and scoots her chair over so he can sit in the empty one.

he hands her the cotton candy from his other hand, receiving a thank you from y/n.

"but really, why are you here by yourself when you should be out there," he pauses to point to all the campers and a few counselors dancing to an ariana grande song.

"what if someone wants their face painted and no one's here to help?" y/n picks at the light pink cotton candy.

"you and i both know every camper who wanted their face painted came here right away."

"yeah okay," y/n agrees, "but not everyone's gotten their face painted."

"who hasn't? there's maybe three campers without something on their cheek."

"you," y/n smirks. she hands her cotton candy to oscar before grabbing the tray of face paints.

oscar groans, "is this payback for dunking you in the pool?"

"yes, that's exactly it," she giggles.

oscar watched as y/n stood from her chair. she was contemplating what to do, but eventually ordered oscar to close his eyes. 'screw it' y/n internally spoke, as she dabbed the non-toxic red face paint onto her lips with a clean brush. she set down the mirror, happy with the amount and bent down to kiss oscar's cheek.

it took him by surprise, and he could feel his cheeks redden at the feeling of her fingers on his chin and lips on his cheek.

y/n begins wiping her mouth, ridding the left over red paint. oscar smiles, "well now it's only fair i give you something in return."

y/n shakes her head, still having a smile adorning her features, "i'm the one working the face paint table, not you osc."

oscar's about to argue, but lando, nat and sofia all come running to the table as the campers are starting to leave the tennis courts.

"hey are you guys–"

lando cuts nat off with a chuckle, "nice face paint osc." that earns him a punch in the arm by sofia.

nat rolls her eyes before continuing, "you two ready for the counselor campout tonight?"

y/n's been talking about the campout since the start of summer, to anybody that'll listen.

the group of five went their seperate ways towards their cabins to pack a small bag for the night, and made sure to say goodnight to their campers, before a counselor in training came in the cabin for the night.

the counselors split up between two pick up trucks, with people riding inside and in the back. y/n and oscar's legs kept hitting each others after almost every bump, not that either of them minded.

the girls slept in one tent while the boys slept in the other. camp rules that both groups hated. it was starting to get dark when they arrived, so the boys started cooking pre-made hamburgers on a makeshift little grill over the fire, while the girls set up the tents.

during dinner everyone split up into their own groups. oscar, y/n, lando, nat and sofia put their chairs close to each other as they enjoyed the warmth of the fire and the sound of the crickets around them.

"is that a new hoodie y/n?" nat asks, curiosity filling her voice.

sofia joins in, "yeah, i don't think i've seen that."

y/n involuntarily blushes, "it's oscar's. he's letting me borrow it cause i got cold."

lando gives oscar a small high five while nat and sofia share a look. a look that the two have been sharing at least once a day.

—

four days later and y/n is upset once again. the second session campers are filtering out of the camp, and it feels five times worst than the first time y/n dealt with it. oscar walks up to the sad girl and places his hand lightly on her back.

"will pancakes and a hug cheer you up?" he smiles while handing her a plate with three pancakes covered in syrup.

y/n laughs and turns to face oscar, "both would definitely cheer me up."

y/n wraps her arms around the boy, and her body is flooded with warmth at the contact. she rests her head against his shoulder, her nose brushing ever so slightly against his neck. goosebumps rise on oscar's arms.

oscar leads the pair over to an empty bench so y/n can enjoy her pancakes to get her mind off the campers leaving.

"jeez osc, did you put enough syrup on these?" she laughs.

oscar throws his hands up in defence, "i didn't know how much you like."

a moment of silence passes between the duo, before y/n breaks it.

"are you gonna want your hoodie back? because it's extremly comfortable and it might make it's way into my suitcase by the end of the summer."

oscar smiles, "keep it. maybe it'll give me a reason to visit you after summer."

y/n reciprocates a smile, but a sad feeling makes it's way through her body again. she doesn't know what her and oscar are going to do after summer. neither of them have brought it up. the thought of having to leave oscar and never see him again terrified the girl.

—

the camp was well into session three, and y/n was more than excited for today. it was her twentieth birthday, the session three camp dance was tonight, and it was her favorite theme every summer.

y/n was helping her campers get ready, thanking herself for getting ready beforehand. she thought they all looked adorable in their different 70s inspired outfits. they ranged from bell bottom leggings, flashy colorful skirts, and fringed vests.

y/n and her cabin was walking towards the tennis courts, as well as the other cabins. just as they turned the corner, oscar was standing off to the side of the gate. y/n saw, and smiled as he beckoned her over.

she told her campers to go with nat's cabin, before running towards oscar, being careful not to fall in her chunky platform boots.

oscar takes in her appearance with a smile on his face. from her white platform boots, to her pink colorful dress with the flared longsleeves, and finishing with her white headband.

"you look adorable," he spoke, his words coming out faster than his brain could think.

y/n couldn't help but blush, "thank you osc. you don't look too bad yourself."

now y/n looks over oscar's outfit. she giggles as it's such a similar outfit to what pierce brosnan wore on the cover of the mamma mia poster. fitting perfectly to tonight's 70s disco theme.

"did you find my birthday present for you?"

y/n nods, remembering the small wrapped box placed at the bottom step of her cabin.

"i haven't opened it yet, just like the card said."

"good, and don't forget to meet me back here after all your campers are asleep yeah?"

y/n nods again, "what could you be planning piastri?"

oscar shrugs playfully, "guess you'll have to wait and see."

before the australian leaves, he kisses y/n's forehead. it happened so quickly y/n could barely comprehend it before he was already gone.

after almost two hours of dancing, picking at snacks and talking, y/n was finally feeling her feet starting to hurt. maybe the platform boots were a bit much, but she still thought they were adorable. she groaned as she sat down for the first time that night.

"hey, you alright?"

she picks up her head, seeing oscar standing in front of her with two cups of water. he hands one to her before sitting in the empty chair beside her.

"i don't think my feet have ever hurt this badly before," she laughs while unzipping her boots. she could care less about how dirty the ground was right now, she needed her feet to breathe.

"so glad i didn't wear the platform boots i packed," oscar joked, and his smile grew once y/n started laughing. he never got tired of hearing her laugh.

"have you had a good birthday so far?"

y/n lets out a content sigh while leaning her head on oscar's shoulder. "i have osc, it's been really fun. and i can't wait to see what you have planned for later."

—

just as oscar instructed on his birthday note to y/n that was attached to her birthday present, she's currently waiting in the tennis courts. her counselor in training was looking after her cabin, but all y/n could think about is what on earth oscar could be planning.

her fingers fidget with the blue bow on top of the box, and she's thankful she changed out of her boots and into her converse. she threw on oscar's hoodie she still hasn't given back, because it always gets chillier at night.

her thoughts were interrupted however, when the lights to the tennis court turned off. all she heard around her was whispered voices and shuffling feet.

"guys?" she laughs, more than confused on what they could be doing.

the lights suddenly turn back on, and y/n can't help but laugh at the four in front of her.

"happy birthday y/n!" her friends yell.

sofia's holding a small pile of presents, one from each of them (minus oscar's gift in her hand).

nat and lando are busy holding up a small banner, wishing y/n a happy birthday.

finally oscar was holding a pink box, which y/n could only guess was a birthday cake.

"guys!" y/n gushes, her heart feeling extra full at the moment.

everyone sets down whatever was in their hands to hug the birthday girl. oscar's hug was a bit longer than the others, and y/n definitely noticed.

"you guys didn't have to do anything for my birthday. it being on the day of my favorite camp activity was plenty."

nat shushes her, "nope, we all agreed we were doing something for your birthday as soon as the session started."

lando pipes up besides nat with a green and black wrapped gift in his hands, "enough with the sappy shit, open my gift first y/n."

y/n sits down before opening the gifts. nat and sofia sit to her left, while lando stands in front and oscar stands behind her to her right.

she opened everyone's gift, thanking each of them afterwards, and finally got to oscar's gift. the one she's been waiting for all day. she tears the blue ribbon off and takes the lid off.

however, y/n's confused once she sees two plane tickets. one to new york from maine, and one back to maine from new york.

"osc what is this?"

oscar squats down and holds himself up by placing his hand on y/n's thigh.

his voice was soft as he explained, "my mom helped me with this one. i called her before this session started, and i got her to buy the tickets for me. she was able to get then shipped before your birthday. so now you can come out to new york for two weeks with me."

y/n keeps looking at the plane tickets in her hands. her eyes were filling with tears while oscar spoke. no one's ever done anything like this before.

lando, nat and sofia left quietly, giving the pair a minute alone.

"love?" oscar lets the nickname slip before he has time to catch himself.

"no one's ever done something like this for me before," y/n's quiet, not wanting her voice to give out.

"hey," oscar wipes a tear that was falling on her cheek, "you deserve this. we get to spend two great weeks together, and you'll even get to see my cool apartment."

y/n laughs at his attempt to cheer her up, and is glad it's working.

y/n pulls oscar into one of the tightest hugs imaginable. he stumbles slightly, but holds onto the girl just as tight.

"thank you osc," she whispers into his neck, before placing a light kiss to the exposed skin.

y/n starts pulling away from the hug, but oscar just holds onto her tighter. he silently moves his left hand to cup her jaw, with his thumb catching another loose tear.

from outside of the tennis court, the eavesdropping trio all gasp as the two finally kiss. after weeks of endless flirting and longing glaces, they're finally kissing.

y/n holds onto oscar even tighter now. partially for stability, and partially to make sure he's really there. that this was really happening.

the two barely pull apart, their lips only having centimeters between them.

just as the two go to kiss again, sofia pops out from the darkness and into the light of the tennis court. "six feet of space!"

nat's quick to cover her mouth after she mentions leaving room for god, and nat and lando are quick to apologize, letting oscar and y/n be alone again.

—

"there you are!"

oscar's pulled from his thoughts as y/n makes her way over towards him.

he's sat on the bench outside the unoccupied cabin near the volleyball court. he went there a lot this summer, always giving him the space to think.

"i've been looking everywhere for you," y/n smiles while sitting beside him.

oscar can't help but smile when she does. he's told her a thousand times how contagious her smile is.

"are you excited?"

y/n didn't need oscar to elaborate, she knew exactly what he meant. today was the last day of summer camp. all of the campers left yesterday, and today was the day y/n and oscar were flying to new york together.

"i don't even think excited is in the ballpark to describe how i'm feeling," y/n laughs, leaning into oscar.

after a moment of silence, y/n's curiosity gets the best of her. "osc?" he hums in response, "what are we?"

oscar smiles to himself, "well i was hoping i'd get to call you my girlfriend."

y/n's smile grows immensely. "only if i get to call you my boyfriend," she giggles.

oscar kisses her softly on the lips, before interlocking his fingers with hers.

"oh!" y/n pipes up, "yesterday one of my girls made us matching bracelets."

y/n takes two bracelets out of her (oscar's) hoodie pocket. they were both pink, with different shades of pink beads threaded through the string. one said "O ♡ (your initial)" and vice verse with the other bracelet. oscar chuckles as he takes the one starting with his own initial.

"i love it," he looks down at it once more, "i'm never taking this off by the way."

before y/n reciprocate, the camp director comes around, telling them this is their last call to leave the camp and say goodbye to who ever you need to.

nat and sofia both left by bus earlier in the day, leaving oscar to deal with an unhappy y/n for an hour until he gave her another one of his hoodies.

"are you ready to go?" y/n stands while holding her hands out.

oscar gladly takes her hands in his, "yep. just one more kiss in the place where i fell in love with you."

[puckinghischier]

Oh please! Some fluff about Quinn returning home to his girl who couldn't stay up to greet him. She wakes up in the morning cuddled up to Quinn and they are all so happy to be reunited

quinn has always hated the fact he gets home from road games so late. at least when he plays in a home game, on the rare occasion you don’t go, you’re always up and waiting to greet him, win or lose.

but whenever they’re on the road? the apartment is dark and quiet and all he can hear are your soft snores coming from his bed.

he always takes extra care to put his things away as silently as he can, slipping quietly into the bathroom to shower and wash the travel grime off of his sore body. he’s even memorized the path from the bed to the bathroom in the pitch black darkness, refusing to turn even his phone light on, dodging every obstacle like it’s a game.

the only thing that gets him through the long plane rides or bus trips is thinking about the moment he gets to slip into bed with you. you always make sure you leave him enough room to squeeze his broad body into the space next to you, but somehow your head always ends up on his pillow. quinn smiles, not telling you he sprays it down with his cologne every time he leaves for away games, knowing how much you find comfort in the scent you recognize as his.

finally laying down on the plush mattress, relaxing and scooping your body into his arms like you belong there, (because you do) he hums out a content sigh as you unconsciously squeeze him in your sleep. you snuggle into his side and bury your nose into his neck as he drifts off to sleep, thankful he’s made it back home to you once again.

when you blink your sleepy eyes open in the morning, you feel the solid body beneath you breathing softly. you’re practically on top of quinn, head still wedged under his chin as his hands hold you securely in place.

you can’t help the smile that breaks out on your face, wiggling your way even deeper into his hold, wanting to crawl into his skin, really.

the movement causes quinn to stir, heavy lids popping open just slightly to look down at the top of your head.

“gettin’ comfy?” he’d rasp out, only half awake.

raising your head up to look at his face, you smile adoringly at his squinted eyes looking back at you.

“just happy you’re home, s’all. don’t want you to ever leave again,” you whine earnestly, laying your head back down on his chest.

quinn raises his hand resting on your hip up to pet your head, playing with your soft hair. “i know, baby. i’d bring you with me, if i could.”

he tilts his head down to place a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“at least it’s always a nice surprise to wake up on top of you afterwards,” you chuckle, making your body as heavy as you can, trying to sink into him.

“m’favorite part,” he responds, twirling the ends of your hair around his slender fingers.

“never stop coming home to me,” you whisper, trailing your thumb back and forth over a particularly soft piece of flesh on his flank.

“as long as you never stop being my home to come back to,” he responds, shifting slightly to settle his body back into the soft mattress, squeezing you tightly before dozing off once again.

[theragethatisdesire]

"nel bene e nel male" - eren x reader, 18+!!!

i have several other wips working right now but i fell in love with the "ti penso" universe so i wanted to follow this eren x reader a little further down the road. i wouldn't call it a series but....i love them. this is from eren's pov, so we get to see how he thinks of reader, their relationship, etc. and it was SO fun to get in his head. i love ti penso eren sm and he's adorable, so i hope u guys like this one as much as the last!

pairing: eren x afab!reader

wc: 4.8k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut (duh), knife (not in a sexual way like a cooking way bu still), consensual hook-up, established relationship, unprotected sex, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving) penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby), crying, cheating (don't worry it's a trick), multiple orgasm, creampie, aftercare, eren being a nervous wreck

title means "for better or for worse" in italian i LOVE these two mwah xxxx

Eren isn’t really a middle-ground kind of guy. The world’s black and white the way he sees it, so he either loves something, or he hates it. He hates the soreness settling in his bones, loves seeing the familiar city lights again after the last few days.

He’s been in Dubai on business this week; loved the food, hated his hotel room, loved the locals, hated the plane ride, and while the loves outweighed the hates enough to make the trip great, it didn’t compare to what was waiting for him in New York. Eren’s fortunate enough to be coming home to a little slice of his own personal heaven, ready to open his apartment door to find you in his favorite position: wearing one of his old t-shirts, snuggled up on the couch, reading if he had to put money on it. Maybe he’ll get lucky, and you’ll be cooking. God, he’s so sick of hotel food and airport food he could cry. 

In the elevator, sliding up through the building to the seventy-first floor, he gets a rush of elation at the familiarity of it all. He studies the mirrored wall, smirking to himself when the memory of him pressing you against it, two fingers deep in you, surfaces. That’s something else he loves: unraveling you where someone could see, watching how flustered you get. Eren’s first order of business, he decides, is to shower. His second order of business will be to bury himself between your legs: cock, face, fingers, whatever you prefer. He’s feeling generous and homesick.

The smell of garlic and oil hits his nose when he opens the door; Eren has to bite back a groan. After Ymir and Historia’s wedding, you two developed a bit of a love affair with Italy, and had returned enough times for you to master the cuisine. Italian food now reminds him of you, of that first indulgence in years against the wall of his villa apartment, and his legs nearly buckle at the sensation of it all.

“Missed you.” Your back is to him when he ambles into the kitchen, cutting tomatoes, so he settles for pressing himself up against your back, cradling your hips in his hands. Your little sleep shorts rub against his crotch, and Eren hopes he has the willpower to at least make it through dinner without tearing you open.

“Mm,” you hum noncommittally, letting him grope you. Eren frowns into your hair; that wasn’t exactly the enthusiastic welcome he was expecting.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” you shrug. He peeks around your shoulder; your cheeks are wet.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Eren grabs your shoulders and turns you to face him. When he recognizes the look in your eyes, he almost wishes he hadn’t.

When you’re angry, you shout, you cry a little, normal stuff. When you’re really angry, you’re cold. The look in your eyes tells him he’s done something very bad, a look of icy apathy, disinterest. He hasn’t seen it since you left him on the sidewalk outside of your last apartment together, before Italy, before the last two years of domestic bliss he’s enjoyed with you amidst your crazy work schedules. Eren’s heart drops to his stomach.

“Baby…”

“Who’s Anna?”

Your question nearly knocks him on his ass. He’s vaguely aware that his face must show that feeling, making him look more suspicious than he really is. How the fuck is he supposed to explain Anna without ratting on himself?

“Who?” Idiot, Eren thinks to himself. Who? is never the right question when your girlfriend asks about another woman in your life, Eren knows that by now. The pure shock has turned the sensical part of his brain off.

“Who,” you repeat, scoffing and turning back to your cooking.

Very aware that you have a knife, Eren rounds the counter so he can see you, monitor that look in your eyes while also putting some space between himself and the nine-inch blade in your right hand. “I know it sounds cliche, but it’s not what it–”

“Looks like?” You cut him off, eyes down towards the cutting board. “I’m sure the nine zoom calls I found on your personal laptop are nothing, nothing at all.”

Eren swallows, thick around the lump in his throat. He should have had his fucking assistant do this, he thinks, shouldn’t have been so picky with everything, but it was something so special, so personal, he couldn’t bring himself to ask for help. Hell, he hadn’t even told Armin and Mikasa yet.

“She sent you a very vague email, but I’m sure you’ll get the message. She said she has some ‘really special’ things picked out for you, if you missed it,” your gaze finally meets his, chilling him to the bone and boring into his very soul, “La Perla or Agent Provocateur? You’ve always preferred the Perla, but–”

“It’s nothing like that,” Eren mumbles, twitching where he stands. “I’d never cheat on you, you know that.”

“I’m sure,” a mirthless laugh slips from your pretty lips. Eren wants to cry; if only you knew, if only he could bring himself to tell you, but that would ruin the point of it. If you’d just understand– “My bags are packed either way. Booked a flight to London, too. I’ve always wanted to live there.”

Eren’s heart drops further from its tight pit in his stomach; it’s surely fallen out of his ass onto the floor now. “Bags? Baby, no, just let me exp–”

“Let you what?” Here’s your anger, refreshed and fiery in your eyes, rearing its head. Eren balks.

“Well, I– I can’t really explain, but if you just trust me…”

“Trust you? I did trust you, all the way back in Italy!” Your voice cracks at the same time as Eren’s heart. “I took a chance on you, and you fucked me. Do you remember how afraid I was to dive back into you again? And look where it fucking got me.”

Another furious, disbelieving chuckle. Eren hates that laugh, hates it so much he can feel his skin prickle. Against his better judgment, he scowls.

“You actually think I’m cheating on you? When the fuck would I even have time?”

“Is she from Stockholm? Paris? Skinny bitch from LA, maybe? You spend an awful lot of time on the go,” you hiss. Eren rolls his eyes.

“I fucking love you! You’ve never been able to get that through your thick-ass skull,” his voice is getting louder, but he can’t stop himself. If he was thinking rationally, he knew he could make you understand, but he’s not thinking rationally. Eight days of jet lag and work are catching up to him, and his temper leaps out ahead of his words.

“Well, I hope Anna does. I hope you love her, and I hope she fucks you good,” you sniffle, another hot rush of angry tears streaming down your face. Eren hates that too; can still feel the visceral pumping of his heart where it’s sitting discarded on the floor.

“She doesn’t love me,” he grits out, “and she definitely doesn’t fuck me.”

“Well yeah, I’d assume you fuck her,” you snap, chopping into a tomato furiously. Maybe it’s your tone, maybe it’s the tears, the finality in the chopping, he doesn’t have time to acknowledge what breaks something in him, but he feels it tear into two. He can’t stop himself.

“She a fucking ring designer,” he nearly shouts, hearing the cabinets rattle from the timbre of his voice, “a ring designer from Tiffany. That’s who Anna is.”

He’s hardly even aware that the words have left his mouth until he sees your reaction. Everything in your body tenses, your hand clenches down tight around the knife. Your mouth– Eren can’t help but sigh inwardly at your perfect little mouth– drops slightly ajar, the tears themselves seem to freeze where they’re rolling down your cheeks.

“A…what?”

Eren’s defeated now, and his sigh shows it. He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, not feeling any better now that he’s been forced to ruin his own surprise. “Didn’t want to tell you this way, but yeah.”

“Like, a…”

“An engagement ring designer,” Eren says quietly, barely able to force the words out. Sure, he may have solved the initial issue of his nonexistent cheating, but now he has your commitment issues to work with. His breath is lodged firmly in his throat and not a sound passes between you two. He can see the gears in your head turning, brow furrowed in concentration as you try to think through your feelings.

Ordinarily, Eren loves that look, thinks it’s so sexy how your forehead wrinkles, your tongue darting out between your teeth while you write or do your morning crossword. Now, he’s watching you with that look on your face, not able to breathe, feel, or even think.

The hesitation is setting in, panic gripping him. What was he thinking, proposing to you? You hate to be tied down, married to your work. He’s hurt you so many times; God knows it was an uphill battle just getting you to let him love you again. You’re a flighty, easily-frightened creature, but he does what he can to keep you with him, keep you as happy as he can. He lives and breathes you, doesn’t know if he would survive you leaving him again.

He couldn’t help himself, though, never could when it came to you. For years he’s been needing more, more touching you, more fucking you, more loving you. This is just that in a new sense: seeing if he just could get the right ring, make the right plan to keep you forever. He’d never admit it, but he’d even gotten hard at the thought of you wearing his ring day in and day out for the rest of your life. He couldn’t resist making you his wife, his life partner, putting his babies in you–

Eren pockets that thought as soon as it crosses his mind; now is not the time for an erection. He knows you inside and out, knows how your chest rises and falls while you sleep and has the scent of your shampoo burned into his olfactory nerves for the rest of his life, but you manage to surprise him, just this once.

A small smile toys at your mouth. “An engagement ring designer?”

Eren’s chest decompresses so violently he thinks he might pass out. “Yeah. I was thinking–”

“About proposing? You’re serious?” Your face is still puffy and wet, but the grin growing on your face is worth everything Eren could ever think to own, eyes practically glowing.

“God, of course I’m serious,” Eren rasps, the air gone from his lungs, “fuckin’ love you. I’ve wanted this since the day I met you, how do you not know that by now?”

“Are you like…” you trail off, looking meaningfully at him, then the floor. Is he proposing?

Eren doesn’t even know if he is, brain foggy after the whirlwind ten minutes that’s just gone by. A lifetime with you flashes behind his eyes: a beautiful wedding, definitely in Italy, signing the papers and buying a home together, filling it with as many curly-haired babies as you’ll give him. When Eren comes back to reality, his body’s moved without consulting him, and he’s on his knees, holding your thighs– God, your perfect thighs– in his hands. He’s fairly sure he’s supposed to just be on one knee, but he doesn’t care; he’s not asking, he’s begging.

“Yeah– fuck, I think I am,” Eren laughs at himself, breathless, “I am.”

“Oh my God,” your hands are over your mouth, holding in the wet little hiccups shaking your frame, “oh my God, you are.”

And right there, all of Eren’s anxiety melts off of his body in a clean sheathe. Looking up at you, the fresh tears welling in those beautiful eyes that turn him to putty whenever you need to, he’s sure. Even if you say no– which now, he doesn’t think you will– he has to try. He owes you that, all of himself.

“You know I love you, I– I live for you. Want you to be mine, forever. Will you have me?” Eren’s voice has a waver to it, bending and wobbling under all of his emotions. The slightest inclination of your head gives way to an excited nod, and Eren practically leaps to his feet, grabbing you around the waist and spinning you, just like a movie.

“Eren, ow– s’tight,” you giggle, wheezing in his grip.

“Can you blame me?” Eren laughs back, feeling like a child instead of a full-grown man who just made the biggest commitment of his life, but as painful as it is to release his grip, he sets you down. “You're fucking serious? You’ll really marry me?”

“Yeah,” you grin, “yeah, I’ll marry you. You better get me a big-ass rock, though.”

“I’ll get you the biggest one in the world, spend every dime I have,” he says, and you’re in his arms again, legs wrapped around his waist and arms thrown around his neck, his face might burst, “you can show it off to all your friends, show ‘em just how much I love you.”

“Oh, Eren,” you trail off, kissing him in lieu of words. Eren doesn’t think your lips have ever been so sweet against his, doesn’t think he’s ever been so hungry for your body.

He’s got the path to your bedroom memorized, especially under his current condition: wrapped up in a tangle of limbs, stumbling clumsily and desperately trying not to lose his footing as you kiss your way down his neck. A low groan rumbles in his chest as he fumbles with the knob, throws the door open, practically tackles you onto the plush bed. Eren doesn’t even care that he stinks like plane and airport and travel; the scent of you envelops him.

“Love you so fuckin’ much, baby,” he mutters offhandedly against your collarbone, pausing from the bruise he’s sucking into the skin, “now you’re all mine, forever.”

“Forever,” you agree, chest heaving beneath him. Eren makes quick work of the silky sleep set you’ve chosen, has a brief moment of clarity to think how funny it was that you picked a sexy pajama set to argue with him. He loves you, God, he’s overwhelmed with love, dizzy with it, out of his mind.

Eren mouths his way around your tits, palming with one hand and pressing the other against the small of your back, pulling you up to him. He hates the idea of space between you two. You’re his forever now, his to push and pull and kiss and bite. 

“My pretty little wife,” Eren feels a grin stretch over his face, sinking his teeth into the flesh of your breast. You moan under him, music to his ears. Eren loves a lot about you, but the little simpering sounds you’re making might be his favorite.

“Like that,” it’s just a whisper above him, but it catches his attention.

“Like what? My mouth?”

“Like when you call me that.”

Eren’s grin grows wider, feral. “Call you what?”

“Eren!”

“Say it,” he slides back up to your mouth, licking into it, “want to hear it out of this pretty mouth, not mine.”

“Your wife,” you give in more quickly than he expects, warmth radiating off of your face. 

“So mean to me,” he hums, giving you one last kiss before traveling down, letting his hand come down to rub insistently at your clit. He swallows a throaty groan; you’re wet, soaked even. Just for him.

“Fuck, Eren– ‘m not mean to you,” you’re pouting through the little whimpers coming out of you, eyebrows knotted on your forehead.

“You are,” Eren insists, nosing at your clit. Jesus Christ, he thinks to himself, you smell delicious. He plants a kiss on the inside of your thigh, nibbles a little at the sensitive skin. “Picking a fight with me, thinking I would ever, ever, go looking at anyone else. How could I? Already got the best pussy in the world right here.”

That earns him another long moan from you, your hands coming to his hair and shoving him insistently towards your center. He’ll make you wait, he decides, still in control enough of his faculties to engage in his favorite pastime: teasing you to the point of tears, leading you to your breaking point and shoving you up against it.

You urge him to you, still pulling on his hair. Eren, a devious grin across his face, resists, blowing cool air on you instead. You whine, hips canting at him temptingly. Eren’s willpower falters just slightly, and he gives you a quick, tentative lick up your center, earning himself a satisfied whimper.

“Need more, baby?”

“You know what I fucking need,” you grumble. Eren chuckles.

“See? Always so mean to me. Can’t have what you want when you’re mean, you know better.”

“Please,” you breathe from above him, voice urgent at his threat, “please, Eren, I can’t take it, I–”

“There you go,” he settles himself in between your legs, pulling you to his face by your hips. If Eren loves one thing in his black-and-white world, it’s having his mouth on you. It’s probably embarrassing how often he asks to sink his tongue into you, how pitifully he begs day in and day out, but he’s beyond caring. It’s well-established in your daily routine: you have your crosswords to keep you content and clear your head, and Eren has your pussy.

He’s gone eight long days without it, and he licks into you like a starved man, hell, maybe he is. Eren groans into you, echoing your own pathetic simpering.

“Can’t wait to put a ring on this pussy, my beautiful pussy,” he speaks into your folds, tickling them in a way that you evidently like, giving him a garbled agreement. Eren relishes your cunt, sucking on your clit and tickling just at the entrance to you with his tongue, working you the way he knows will have you spiraling towards your end.

Without fully realizing it, Eren’s hand is sliding down to palm himself over his pants. Before he knows it, he’s rutting into his own hand like a fucking teenager, couldn’t keep himself together with his face between your legs. Eren prides himself on his stamina, but with the heightened emotions and the week without you, that's gone right out of the window. He’s riding a little too close to the line; he desperately wants you to cum on his face, but at this rate, he’ll blow in his pants if he lets you.

Steeling every ounce of willpower he possesses, Eren pulls his face out of you, takes a deep breath. You whine, reaching for him unsuccessfully.

“Sh, I know,” Eren shushes you, chest swelling with pride at your open need, “so needy for me, aren’t you?”

“Please,” you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling his mouth to yours.

“Gonna fuck you, okay?” You nod urgently into his shoulder, legs already hooked around his hips. Eren’s head’s spinning like it never has before, drunk on you. He manages to get half of his cock into you before he has to stop, grinding his jaw and trying to think about anything other than how your cunt’s milking him.

“Eren,” you plead, trying to urge him forward with your ankles. A deep inhale rattles practically his entire body.

“M'trying not to cum, hold on.” He’s created a monster out of you, he thinks, and maybe out of himself, too.

“I need– fuck, need to…” you slide one hand down your body, rubbing frantically at your clit. Eren’s stuck watching, watching your perfect body swell and shrink with your heavy breaths, watching you try to make yourself cum only half-full.

“Do you think you can?” His words are hardly a breath; he winces when you clench around him harder. You’ve always had trouble cumming without being full, usually finding your release with Eren buried fully inside you, nudging at your cervix. You’re always begging for more, just one more finger, want to be fucked a little harder. The fact that you need him so badly you’re willing to try, make the most out of what you have, makes his heart and his cock pound in tune. Poor thing. 

“Yeah, I, I need to cum so bad, Eren, it’s– shit, so bad, I just–”

“Go ahead, do it then,” Eren firmly interrupts your babbling, a bit of a tell that you’re getting close. If anything gets you off, it’s authority. He leans down, painfully aware of the extra inch of him the new angle pushes into you, trying to focus, trying so hard not to cum yet. He takes your face roughly in his hand, forcing your heart-filled eyes to bore into his. He bares his teeth in a disbelieving, probably half-crazed grin. He loves you so much, needy little thing that you are.“Make yourself cum on me, fucking brat. Can’t even give me two seconds, can you?”

Your bottom lip trembles as you shake your head, more tears welling in your eyes. Eren can feel the quivering of your legs around him, any second now.

“Love me so much, don’t you? So impatient,” He tsks, thumbing at your lip and throwing in a couple light smacks to your cheek for good measure. “Can’t wait to be mine, can’t wait to cum, can’t wait for me to marry you and fuck you everyday, that’s it isn’t it? Gonna fuck you as much as you want baby, my perfect little wife.”

That does it; Eren has to close his eyes when you cum, cunt tightening vice-like around him, but he can feel you squirting on his lower abdomen, feel the cum practically gushing out of you. God help him. You squirm and tremble underneath him, crying out for him to fuck you. He knows you need him, need him to move, and somehow, some way, he does.

He bullies his way into you, feeling you pulse around him and growling deep in his chest. Your eyes fly open at the movement inside of you, flitting between his face and where he's rolling his hips into you.

“Yes,” you hiss, “yeah, please–”

“That’s better, right?” Eren’s in heaven, losing his grip on anything around him that’s not your pussy. “My girl needs to be full, yeah?”

“Mhm,” your eyes are rolling back into your head, drunk on the way he’s pumping in and out of you. Eren’s in awe of you; you’re such a perfect, needy creature, and now you’re all his forever. Shit, he’s not going to last, he can feel it. He slides a hand down your stomach, thrumming insistently at your clit, making you squeal.

“Fuck! Eren, I just– shit, I just came, s’too much.”

“You can cum again, right? Can't be selfish, now,” Eren huffs, stomach tightening with the signs of his impending orgasm. “I’m gonna spend all my money on your fucking ring, and you can’t even cum one more time for me?”

“Eren…” you’re whimpering, damn near crying at this point, tears streaming down your temple. He feels you clench, somehow makes himself thrust faster. Eren loves this part. He’s got you now, and he knows it.

“You say love me, now you gotta show me,” he just needs a few more seconds, come on, “if you want that ring so bad, you gotta cum for it baby.”

Your back arches so violently that had he not known better, Eren might think you’ve been shocked; your pussy squeezes the life out of him, triggers his orgasm along with you. The sound he emits is inhuman, but he’s too lost, too gone to care, shooting rope after rope of cum deep in you. He collapses mid-orgasm, clutching your convulsing body to him, some unconscious part of his brain is directing him to kiss your shoulder, bite into it, and he does. He tastes that salty sheen of your skin, eyes rolling back into his head.

Neither of you speak, just lean into each other for a minute or two. Eren’s vaguely aware of the cum leaking out from where you’re still joined. He hasn’t bothered to pull out yet; pulling out of you is on the hate list. His cock twitches painfully, though, still interested in where he’s buried so deep he can feel your heartbeat. His dick might be aching for a round two, but Eren’s pretty sure he’d knock out in the middle of things if he tried. He groans and rolls off of you, sliding out with a pang of regret.

He props himself up on a shaky elbow, tucking a few of your stray hairs behind your ear. He wants to see your face, your perfect face, sweaty and blotchy and fucked out. You grant him a sleepy smile– oh he loves that face, quickly takes a mental picture to file away.

“You good?”

“So good,” you answer, stretching your arms. “Shower?”

Eren wrinkles his nose, not entirely thrilled at the prospect of washing this gorgeous, post-sex shine off of you. Your face grows insistent. “Shower, Eren.”

“Fine,” he pouts.

“What? You stink.”

“Not that bad,” he lifts an arm, sniffs. Oof, yeah, “not that bad” indeed. He lets you lead him to the shower, waits patiently as you test the water, even lets you rub some of that scratchy body-scrub crap that you swear by all over him.

“Better, right?” You raise your voice over the high-pressure water cascading around you, grinning knowingly. Eren hates conceding, hates admitting when he’s being a bit of a brat, but God, does he love you. He smiles crookedly.

“Much better.”

“So, about before…” Eren’s heart skips a beat, his throat closes. Is this the part where you regret saying yes? Thought he was joking? He should have found a different way out. No, damn it, he should have stuck with the plan, the flowers, the sunset, the quartet– “Can I meet the ring designer?”

Oh. “Um, if you– yeah, if you want. Thought you would like it better as a surprise.”

You cock an eyebrow. “What do you know about my taste in diamonds?”

“Mm, big?”

“Well, yeah,” you giggle, “but do you know what carat I’d prefer? Cut? Setting?”

Eren blushes, frowns. So he has been doing this all wrong. Figures. “That’s what the ring designer’s for, isn’t she?”

“You can still help,” you soothe him, a soapy hand brushing over his cheek, “I’d just like a say, if you don’t mind.”

“Are you mad?” He gives a voice to the fear thudding inside of him, the insecurity clawing at his ribs. You cock your head at him, confused and cute, but even that’s not enough to make him feel better. It’s a black-and-white world, and he needs to hear you say it, perfectly clear.

“Mad? Eren, this is…the happiest day of my life. Why would I be mad?”

“Because…” he scrambles for the words, suddenly sheepish, “I had this whole thing planned for it– for you. We were gonna be on the Empire State Building with a rose wreath and singers–”

“Eren,” you cut him off, serious as he’s ever seen you, “are you actually being serious? Like, actually?”

His face is hot, God it burns with embarrassment. “I mean, sort of.”

“It was perfect,” you sense his discomfort, running a stray hand through his hair, “okay well, not perfect per se, but it was us. We aren’t…we aren’t flowers and Empire State Building people. We’re stupid fights and long distance and hot sex people. That’s our life, and I am beyond okay with that.”

All of the unease evaporates from his body. How do you always have the answer, the words he needs to hear? You’re always right. The quartet may have been a bit much, he reflects, pulling you to him.

“If you’re happy, I am,” he means it, and places a kiss to the part of your hair. You hum contentedly against him, purring against his chest.

The shower goes on as all of your showers together do: you manhandle Eren into shampoo and conditioner (hate list: burns his eyes, slimy), grab miraculously toasty towels from the warmer by the bathtub (love list: cozy), convince him to climb into bed still half-wet, limbs heavy with exhaustion (hate list: his side of the bed’s going to smell like wet dog tomorrow), throw on the Kardashians’ new show (love and hate lists: depends who's asking).

You knock out before him, unaffected by jet lag, drooling into the cavern between his pecs and making a very unflattering face that he makes sure to snap a picture of. You need an updated contact photo in his phone anyway.

He feels unusually contemplative, staring out at the big city from your own little corner of it, making a mental list of all of the people you need to call tomorrow, and what order they should go in. Eren’s world might be big sometimes as he jetsets around, might be small when he’s buried inside of you, focus narrowed on the heat pulled tight around him. It’s always one way or the other, though, and tonight, practically his entire world is laying on his chest, glowing a bright, bridal white.

- tagging @philliamwrites as u requested for my next piece! hope u love it bestie <3

[khaire-traveler]

Hermes is the exhausted traveler who spent almost a full twenty four hours traveling from one place to the next. He drags his feet along the floor as he lugs his overstuffed suitcase of souvenirs behind him then immediately perks up when he sees the time and rushes to make his next flight.

Hermes is the excited tourist who struggled to save thousands of dollars for the chance to visit another country that they've admired for so long. He zips around from place to place, stopping to take photos of the gorgeous sights he may never see again, and he dives in head first at any opportunity to participate in or witness cultural traditions.

Hermes is the newly-wed groom who enthusiastically jumped on his flight with his spouse for his first honeymoon. He tenderly holds hands with his lover, resting their heads on one another, as they both stare, wide-eyed, at a strikingly clear sky populated with glistening stars and makes a wish as he mistakes a satellite for a comet.

Hermes is the single father who desperately needed a vacation but couldn't find a babysitter in time. He smiles contently as he lounges on a beach chair, soaking up the sun, and watches his two girls pretending to be sea monsters in the ocean's waters a few feet away.

Hermes is the college frat boy who travelled to the beach a couple cities away for his spring break vacation. He chugs down another glass of beer and belts out karaoke with his best friend to the song I Wanna Dance With Somebody by Whitney Houston at 3am, likely annoying their neighbors in the hotel room next door.

Hermes is the fragile old man who finally got the chance to return to his home country after years of having no choice but to live abroad. He smiles nostalgically at the small town he grew up in, sipping at a cup of coffee as he sits in an old café he used to visit often, admiring the scenery and feeling torn about how much things have changed in his absence.

Hermes is the anxious student who managed to get an opportunity studying abroad with their school. He nervously examines the map of the metro lines and stations, attempting to catch a metro back to his temporary housing after a full day of wandering the city and being too afraid to ask a stranger for directions.

Hermes is the young boy who took his first plane ride alone to visit his dad after the separation. He shyly converses with the nice lady seated next to him on the plane, sharing very little information but enjoying the company regardless.

Hermes takes the form of all travellers. His spirit journeys with us as we travel by plane, car, bus, or train. He waits in line for the metro ticket by our sides, he rocks out to our favorite songs with us in our cars, he squeezes our hands during the turbulence on the plane, he stares out the bus window with us as we listen to headphones.

Hermes is the spirit of The Traveller, and on every trip we take, every journey we embark on, every first step on the road of life, he wishes us safe travels.

[coffeeghoulie]

For the make 'em swoon prompts: a hug that gets deeper or "hi" *raspy voice* with Dewther maybe?

i saw this ask and went "both. both is good." I don't think I've had a fic jump out at me this quickly in a while. Hope you enjoy!

prompts from this list

divider by @ghuleh-recs

He thinks about coming home more than he'd like to admit. Even as he devotes himself to his work, the music, his unholy purpose, Dew imagines the moment he steps foot back into the Abbey more times than he can count.

He's fallen asleep to the fantasy countless times, the bus swaying like a cradle as the rest of his packmates sleep. It's hard. It's really fucking hard being halfway across the world without Aether. Dew's never had to be away from his side for more than a few days. It feels insurmountable, even with human technology that lets them call and text and talk.

It's hard to sleep in a bunk that feels too big. Too quiet. Too empty. He imagines stepping off of the bus, Aether there waiting in the double doors, Sunny peering over his shoulder while she waits for her girls, her multi.

Dew's the first one off of the bus, and because this is in his mind, there's no shame in the way he imagines dropping his bags, guitar be fucking damned, and sprinting up the gravel driveway. He barrels into Aether with enough force to make him take a few steps back, all of the breath leaving his lungs.

He'd be quick to wrap him up in his big arms, rearing back so just the tips of his boots touch the ground. "Oh, my darling," he would laugh, spinning them around like they're on the cover of some human pulp novel. Dew knows he would grumble at it, protest for Aether to put him back on the ground, he's not an air ghoul.

And Aether would squeeze him tighter before setting him down, that stupid fond look in his eye. Dew'd grab his collar and pull him down into a deep kiss to hide the way he'd be tearing up-

He takes a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling of his bunk, listening to the steady sound of Swiss's snoring. Dew silently wipes his face with the corner of his blanket, rolling onto his side and putting his back to the privacy curtain. He reaches up and pets at the crook of his neck, feeling the texture of scar tissue in the shape of his mate's teeth. His phone's in the cubby, and it's so fucking tempting. Taunting him. Aether's only a call away.

But it's mid morning back at the Abbey, and Aether's working. He'd stayed behind to help with an influx of infirmary work, taking time to rest after his entire time Up Top spent touring. And as much as Dew knows Aether would drop just about anything to talk to him, he'd rather not do that to his mate.

So, instead, he curls up around his pillow, burying his face in it in an attempt to breathe in Aether's scent, the pillowcase replaced with one of several shirts Dew had smuggled into his luggage. Thankfully for him and his packmates and techs, it's enough to lull him to sleep, his cheeks still damp with tears.

The tour drags on, as they always seem to do, and it's over in an instant, as they always do.

The next thing Dew knows he's on a plane back to Sweden, and he grumbles to himself that they always end the tours so far away from home. Eventually they make it back to solid ground. But it's not over yet.

There's a several hour long bus ride left, because the Abbey's in the middle of nowhere. Dew tries to sleep, exhausted and miserable and sore and so fucking close. Mountain sits next to him, guides his head down against his shoulder and hums, petting through his hair as he dozes.

It's late in the afternoon when the bus pulls into the long driveway, and Dew jolts awake as they cross the threshold into the Abbey proper. He's still a little disoriented, but he can feel the way the mate bond sparks back to life now that they're close enough that the magick can actually work the way it's meant to..

He can almost feel the way Aether rushes through the last of his paperwork, scrambling out of the infirmary to find Sunshine and run out to meet them. Dew's excited, he swears he is, but the exhaustion is bone deep and so fucking heavy. He gets to his feet slowly, swaying as he grabs his go-bag from the overhead. Some of the Abbey ghouls and Siblings will take care of unloading the bus itself.

Normally, when it comes to his luggage and his guitars, Dew's incredibly picky, preferring that he's the one who takes care of it. But he's just so tired, and so ready to be home, and so ready to be back with his mate that he can't bring himself to give a shit.

Dew stumbles off the bus, boots scuffing on the gravel. He looks up and he's there. Still in his scrubs, eyes shining even from across the courtyard. Aether smiles and the world is right again.

He's too tired to run, but Aether walks out and meets him halfway. The fountain in the center of the circle drive rushes, and Dew doesn't have the energy to barrel into him the way he imagined.

Aether steps in front of him, and Dew blinks blearily up at him. "Hi," he says, voice raspy from sleep. Aether just grins, big and wide enough to rival Swiss's. His gold tooth glints in the afternoon light.

"Hi, my darling," Aether says, his hands curling gently around Dew's biceps. "I missed you." He pulls him into a gentle hug. Dew's head spins as, after months of the fading scent on fabric, Aether's ozone-fresh air scent slams into him full force.

"Missed you too," Dew chokes out, not caring that the rest of the pack is watching as they file off of the bus. He grabs the front of Aether's scrubs, fingers curling into the fabric as he clings as tight as he can to his mate.

Aether nuzzles into Dew's hair, chuffing happily as he pulls Dew in tighter and tighter until he can barely breathe with it. He curls his tail around his mate's calf, and feels Aether's wrap around his waist. "I really fucking missed you, starshine," Dew whispers again, feeling the beat of his heart against his cheek.

Aether chuckles, hand solid and warm where it rests between Dew's shoulderblades. "Welcome home, my darling." He leans in, whispers so quietly Dew almost thinks he imagines it. "Your scent's just about gone from the hearth, Dew. Makes it so hard to sleep. Come home with me so we can make it right?"

Dew laughs so hard he cries. "Yeah, Aeth. Take me home."

[bahrtofane]

here we go again - pt.2

pt.1, pt.3

jude x fem!reader , trent x fem!reader

empty promise after another leaves you walking in the cold. alone. on valentines day. youre never speaking to another player again. but, a familair face is here to save the day

word count - 2.2k+

watch it - jude is still an ass sorrehhh. angsy angst and more angst ! ur welcome

-----

You don't know where the hell you are, what time it is. A few more minutes you're going to forget your own name and start screaming to feel something other than misery. So  much for the holiday of love. You are feeling so much love you could jump out of a plane. With no parachute. And land on a pile of rocks. 

You kick a trash can out of frustration and groan at the impact it gives your poor exposed and suffering toes. 

You can not believe the events of today. Everything keeps replaying over and over like a broken projector. The fact that he got you to dress up in your favorite special occasion floor length dress just to have it drag across the grimy dirty fucking disgusting club floor. Oh god you want him dead. 

You're deep into Birmingham nightlife by the time your senses come back to you enough to fish your phone out of your bag. The bag is a birthday gift from your mother of all people forced to be seen among that bunch of people,it makes you seeth. 

You should have known taking you to Birmingham wasn't a good idea. It made no sense in your head, why fly from Madrid to god damn Birmingham. You both live and work in Madrid? Your sweet naive mind thought he came up with something unique, something sweet. 

You groan the second your phone turns on. One too many notifications to keep up with and by the looks of it they aren't stopping anytime soon. Twitter is blowing up, you already know what it is. A bunch of low quality pixels of you entering with him and looking lost with a bunch of tacky headlines. You'll get that settled when you get home. You go to order an uber, but your phone manages to die on you miraculously. How lucky. All the times you spent trying to get a hold of Jude really drained the battery. You clench your jaw. 

Good god. You shove your phone back in your purse and keep stomping through birmingham. Shivering with each step. You didn't bring a jacket, how foolish.

You try to follow streets you think you know, but it's not going very well. There aren't very many people this far out. Leave it to fucking Jude to take you to the worlds more obscure club location. It's been about an hour since you left him at the club you think. An hour of walking through alley ways and neighborhoods that only raise the hair on the back of your neck. He couldn't even get you a ride home?

You think the last person you saw was a nurse chucking coffee at a bus station, the bus that you tried to catch but it sped away faster than your aching legs could take you. Better night than yours you're sure. You wander about trying to find at least a store open to be able to call for a taxi. 

You hear the crunch of slowing tires come up behind you, and you instantly quicken up your pace. You almost swear you hear your name shouted, but you don't stop. The second time, it's a little too clear to be mistaken for anyone else's name as the car comes to a crawl side by side to you. 

You turn on your heel harshly, “why in god's name-“ your voice dies the moment you recognize the familiar car model, and its driver. Trent. Oh.

“Get in the car." he dead pans, windows rolled at the way down, door already unlocked for you.

You wrinkle your nose, “I don't want to talk trent." 

The very last thing you need is that sorry excuse of a man to send his friend of all people to run after you and do his bidding where he fell short just hours before. This is so embarrassing it only makes you wish his car would explode. And then drive it into the club. While it's on fire. 

“I'm not letting you roam around these parts at this time, just get in." he sighs. 

You scowl, "he’s low for sending you to change my mind, after this whole fucking night why cant you leave me alone."

He gives you a look, “this has nothing to do with him, this is me. Worried for you. “

“Fuck off." you spit. 

“You’re so hard headed, just get in the damn car before someone robs you. Or worse." 

"How'd you even know I was here?" you squint at him. 

he sighs, rubbing his eyes, "i still have your location from when i picked you up for his birthday. And I heard about everything from just about everyone. "

"You have nothing else to do on valentines day?" you jab. 

He stays silent, hands wringing the steering wheel. You notice he's in what looks like pjs, Liverpool jacket thrown on top. He drove all this way for you?

You swallow your pride for a moment, hiking up your dress while you duck inside the car. Sighing in relief as the pressure is taken off your aching legs. Snapping your seatbelt over you, swinging your purse over your head and gently setting it on your lap, wiping away the tears that blur your vision. 

Your rage has turned into a simmer for now. The main goal at the moment is to just get out of these clothes and sleep till you forget what year it is. 

Trent is quiet while he lets you get comfortable, rolling up his windows backup and locking the doors. You've never sat passenger in his car before. Hell you haven't seen him in months.

“Did he touch you." he asks, turning the heater on higher.

You put your hand out in front of where the hot air blows oh so nice on your frozen hands,“What?”

“You have a bruise on the back of your arm. Did he do that? “

“No.” you sigh. 

he turns to face you, brows furrowed,“i need to know if he did. “ 

“He didn’t trent, i'm alright.'' your voice softens.

he nods, hands resting on the wheel,“where do you need to go? “

“Just take me to my hotel please."

He nods, handing you his phones to put the directions in. You watch as he takes the car out of park, making a u turn and heading out of whatever bizarre neighborhood you're in, back into the city. And  soon the freeway. Birmingham flashes by you and you try to forget the man that sits like a heavy weight in your mind.

You still wonder why Trent would make the trip all the way out just to pick you up. especially if Jude wasn't involved. You're somewhat close you suppose. The kind where you would call him a friend in a group setting, but not much more. You've spent only a couple of times truly alone. You don't know if you're that close.

 Trent has always been somewhat of a mystery to you. Few appearances and even fewer words. Jude had told you once he was shy, just taking a minute to warm up to new people. He has a habit of staring off into nothing you noticed at Judes birthday party. Always quick to snap out of it the moment eyes were on him. Oh so different from the way he plays. You've seen him now and again in highlights and clips posted on instagram. He's good, but man is he aggressive. You expect it for a defender but the man gets up in everyones space on the pitch.

A complete 180 from the way he can barely look you in the eye now. What is he thinking?

You don't let your curiosity blind you from being at least a little courteous. 

“Thank you, " you mumble, playing with the fabric of your dress, "and sorry for being a bitch.“

“Hey I don’t blame you.” he shrugs. 

You hum and leave it at that. You'll put unraveling Trent on the to do list. 

Your hotel comes into view and you thank him again for the kindness, promising to make it up to him some day. He waves you off, seeing till you're inside to leave. 

Your mind is so blurred you can barely stand anymore, every step only throws you off balance. You need your bed. Asap. Or you will fall over and die.

The hotel's heating is a welcome treat as you beeline for the elevator. The staff give you a strange look but you do NOT. have the time for any of that. Right now all you care about is getting in bed. Can this elevator hurry up? It finally comes and you lean against the metal walls when you step inside, sliding your purse lazily over you.

You all but tear your clothes off the second you make it inside your room, in a rush, wiping your makeup off while you undo your shoes, hobbling around with one foot while you dig for your pajamas. You end the night with a trip to the bathroom. Skipping on your usual night routine and just settling for a quick shower and brush of the teeth. 

Hotel covers have never felt better, warmer, safer. 

In the quiet of the room and the hum of the ac, you can't but let your thoughts consume you. Can't help but circle back to him. Why?

Why weren't you enough? Why did it have to end in fucking flames on whats supposed to be the most romantic love filled day of the year. 

You think back of every moment and piece of you shared with Jude. You remember the first time you kissed you, under the stands at his first madrid home game, clutching onto his jersey like a lifeline. He looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered. Gently holding your hand all the way back inside the building. Mumbling confessions and making you smile with every cheesy pick up line.

That jude is gone now, instead replaced by the man who you have to fight for even a second with. But are expected to drop all for. A selfish bitter man. 

It doesn't matter anymore. It's over, you can rest now and deal with the inevitable fall out as it comes. You know you're more than enough, but with the way you let yourself be treated it's hard to let yourself believe that. 

Never again though. From now, you're swearing off footballers. 

—--

You wake up as early as you can manage, getting all your things together and booking a flight out of here as soon as possible. You need to get back to madrid.

Your headache is massive as you shove the last of your things in your suitcase. You can't believe you took days off for this. Nonetheless, you need to get back. You have a team to get back to and plenty of work to get done. Real Madrid's creative department never rests does it.

Your phone has a slew of missed calls, mainly from Jude but you see a few from Trent, rather recent ones. You give him a call back but it all goes to voicemail.

The key card jams while you're locking it for the last time, it takes a hit from your hand to get the scanner working but you make it out in one piece. Smoothing your clothes down and making your way to the lobby. Sitting down for a few minutes while you confirm your flight details and triple check that you haven't forgotten anything. You hear your name and are greeted again by Trent, who's all but spriting to you. It's a little early for him to be here now isn't it. 

“Can I help you ?” 

“I'm sorry I tried calling and I couldn't answer when you called. Judes outside waiting for you. he-“

So last night really was all just a ploy from Judes end? You try to get up and far far away from him, but he stands in front of you. 

“Listen.  He told me to come and get you out there so you can talk to him and to not tell you. But obviously, I'm not. i’ll tell him you're not here yeah? Take care.”

Trent doesn't leave you with anything else, leaving in the other direction. You take this as a sign to leave while you can, grabbing one of the many taxis outside to the airport. 

—--

Trent gives Jude a scowl, “She's not there Jude, give it up. “

“I can't just lose her. “ Jude sighs, furiously typing on his phone. 

Trent rolls his yees, patience wearing thin,“You’re fucked in the head you know that? After all you’ve done to her, you still want her to come running back?”

Silence. 

“I care about you Jude I really do. But you left her walking around at 3 am with a dead phone in the middle of alleyways dude. That's not okay. “

—--

The airport has never felt lonelier, but you swallow the lump in your throat, boarding your flight home and trying to forget the man that you've come to associate it with. Madrid will be a hard place to move on in, when its walls shine with its star boy. Its halls all but cheering his name. Every corner you're bound to be reminded of him. You can do it, one way or another you won't let yourself be miserable. 

[putellas14]

Mapi- "Go to sleep, I will not leave you alone."

content warning: R is a war time reporter assigned to Ukraine

It had been five months since you'd been home. Your job as a journalist for one of the largest news outlets in Spain had sent you to Ukraine to cover the war. The assignment wasn't officially over but they were pulling you out over growing safety concerns. Although you were desperately scared, you didn't want to go home yet. There was still so much news to cover and if you went home, then no one from Spain would be left there to report on what was happening.

They had arranged transport for you the day after notifying you. Which had left you very little time to finish documenting everything you needed for the story you were writing. You worked all night, meeting with different officials and witnesses. And by the morning, you felt mildly confident that you had enough information to write your next piece.

You knew it was nowhere near sufficient, though. All the Ukranian people would be left behind with no option to evacuate with you. And that was something that had begun causing you heartache as soon as you'd read the email you were going home.

The plane ride home was one of the longest flights you'd ever been on. Everyone was completely silent, lost in their own heads processing the last five months and trying to figure out what comes next. Processing how they would return to normal life.

Your team rode in a bus to the office. It was the middle of the work day but your boss had told you all to go home and get some rest.

Your heart started beating a little faster when you saw the familiar car in the lot. And the brunette leaning back against it, arms folded. You'd texted Maria this morning to let her know you'd made it on the plane and you'd see her at home after her training was over. Frowning, you looked down at yourself. Your clothes were wrinkled and hadn't been washed in a few days. You hair was an absolute mess. You smelled slightly from the flight.

But when she spotted you through the window of the bus and smiled brightly up at you, none of that mattered. You waited impatiently to get off the bus. Crossing to her quickly, you collapsed against her, your arms tight around her neck.

"Welcome home, my love," she whispered into your neck.

"I missed you," you said before kissing her. Leaning back, you ran a hand through her hair. "I like your hair."

"Let's get you home," she added. She kissed your cheek before bending down for your bag.

At home, you ate a snack, marveling at how amazing it tasted before passing out on the bed. In month two, your hotel had been bombed and since then, you'd been sleeping on a broken cot in a crowded basement with a bunch of other reporters, never sure when your next substantial meal would come.

It was dark outside when you awoke. Maria had laid a sweater at the foot of the bed for you. Smiling at it, you pulled it on, appreciating her thoughtfulness. It was something small but it meant a lot to you.

You found her in the living room, playing with one of the three cats the two of you had adopted last year. "He's gotten so big," you said after watching her from the doorway for a minute.

She looked up at you, smiling. "How was your sleep?" She held her hand out to you.

"Weird to sleep in a bed," you answered, crossing the room to take her hand and sit down on the floor. "It's going to take some getting used to." The black cat crawled up into your lap. "Hola, mi gordito," you whispered, giving him pets.

"They missed you. They'd wait at the front door after I came in, hoping you'd come in behind me."

"That's really sweet," you said. Leaning down, you kissed the top of the cat's head. You snuggled him close for a few minutes before he jumped out of her arms to curl at your feet.

Mapi watched the entire interaction with soft eyes. She'd missed you. Your presence. Your scent. Your loving nature. Even with all the cats, the house had seemed empty. Clearing her throat, she said, "I've got the potatoes boiling. Figured I'd make your favorites for dinner. Probably been a while since you've eaten any of them."

"Thank you, amor."

"I was thinking about getting a run in before we eat. Do you want to come?"

You felt awful but a run would help. You couldn't remember the last time you had been on a run for exercise. Your boss had essentially forbidden leaving for anything non-work related. "I might be a little slow to keep up with you," you admitted shyly.

"You set the pace, babe," she said, reaching over to take your hand. "I'll run with you."

You squeezed her hand and gave her a small smile, grateful to have someone next to you that was as sweet as Maria. And she was true to her word. During the run if her stride starting getting too long, she pulled herself back. She always let you lead.

And in the shower afterwards, she let you lead the slow dance to relearn each other's bodies.

You were quiet through dinner, Mapi knew it. But she filled the space. She let you be as quiet as you needed to be. She gave you everything that you needed that night. She held you on the couch afterwards, running her hands slowly through your hair. The tv was on low in the corner. She whispered sweet words in your ears and made sure you knew how missed you had been. Your emotions got the better of you at one point and tears had filled your eyes. You tried to hide them but she saw and gave you soft kisses in response.

Everything was fine until it was time for bed. Until you laid down in bed and she turned out the light. The dark. The dark was the worst time over there. During the day, you could see. More people were around. At night, it was dark. You were alone. Even in a roomful of people, you were alone.

You were shaking when she got into bed. "Babe." She touched your arm. "What's the matter?"

"I." You grabbed onto her hand. "Can you just hold me?" She laid down, putting her arm around your waist. "Tighter. I need to feel you here."

She pulled you closer to her, keeping a hard grip on you. "Go to sleep, baby. I won't leave you alone." She kissed the top of your head and snuggled into you. "I love you."

"Love you," you muttered into her, slowly relaxing into sleep.

[toasttt11]

secrets out

Jan 5, 2024

Carter rested her head against the plane wall with her headphones on excited for this weekend. The plane landed and the team all started grabbing their extra big bags as this was the second game of their seven game road trip meaning being away from home for almost two weeks.

The players all loaded their suitcases and duffle bags on the bus storage before getting onto the bus, Carter leaned against the window watching the city of New Jersey as they drove the the Devils Arena having a practice scheduled right after their flight.

The Canucks team all walked through the Devils halls helping the equipment mangers bring the equipment to the locker room, the team all got on the practice equipment heading out to the ice where the last few remaining Blackhawks players were getting off after their practice, Carter smiled seeing Connor standing near the end of a hallway and gesturing his head, she looked around her before quickly walking to Connor and around the corner at the end of a hallway where no was.

Carter quickly wrapped her arms around Connor relaxing against him, Connor smiled holding his girl in his arms again, “Hello my love.” Connor pressed multiple soft kisses to her side of her head.

“Con.” Carter whispered out in relief enjoying the few moments she has with her boyfriend and best friend.

“I’ve got to go but i’ll see you more tonight i promise.” Carter cupped his face pressing a gently kiss to his lips before reluctantly pulling away and kissing his cheek.

“Are you coming to the game tonight?” Connor softly asked, knowing Carter wanted to come but he didn’t know if she got tickets.

“Yeah, Quinn and I are going. I love you.” Carter pressed another kiss to his cheek before reluctantly pulling herself out of his arms.

“I love you too Roo.” Connor fondly smiled as he watched her jog away down the hallway towards the ice.

Carter quickly got on the ice elbowing her smirking brother as she skated by and joined the practice for the next hour.

The team all headed back to the hotel after the practice, Cole and Carter were sharing a room like always and Cole knew Carter had to leave so he let her shower first, Carter quickly showered and got out. She did some very light make up and scrunched some curl cream into her hair to keep her curls intake not having time to make them perfect with her curl routine. She slipped on a pair of blue jeans, a white long sleeve shirt and slipped her black leather jacket over it and put on her red converses. She slid her phone, wallet and her lip products into her jacket pocket before heading out of the bathroom.

“Thank you!” Carter grinned at her best friend.

Cole just smiled shrugging, “Go watch your boy!” He smirked as Carter threw a pillow after him.

“Dick!” Carter called after him hearing Cole’s laugh through the bathroom door.

Carter headed out of room heading down to the hotel lobby seeing Quinn sitting on one of the coaches on his phone, wearing back cargo pants, a white shirt with a black crew neck, and red converse.

Carter sat down next to him hitting his foot with hers, “Matching me?” Carter smirked at her big brother.

Quinn just chuckled knowing Carter always wears something red for Devils games for Jack and now also Luke, “Maybe.” He simply grinned standing up getting a text she was here.

Carter got up with him following him out of the hotel to the valet in the front of the hotel seeing Jack’s car and quickly hoped in, Carter stole the passnger seat and Quinn sat in the back seat.

Carter leaned over kissing her cheek, “Hi Mom.” Carter smiled at her.

“Hello my loves.” Ellen smiled at her two kids in the car. Ellen haven spent a few days with her two boys and Jack and Luke caught a ride with Nico so Ellen could pick up Carter and Quinn.

Carter and Quinn caught up with there mom even thought they really did just see her for Christmas a few weeks ago.

The pulled into the parking garage of the Devils Arena and headed inside, the three sat together in a Devils suite that Jack and Luke insisted they sit in.

They got into their seats a few minutes before the teams got on the ice for warmups.

The teams started coming onto the ice, Connor who Carter told where she was sitting looked around and found sent her a wave making her smile softly and wave back. Ellen raised an eyebrow at that having never seen that look on her daughter before but she hasn’t seen Connor and Carter together often maybe once or twice a few years ago.

Jack and Luke came onto the ice and both sent waves to their family before focusing on warming up.

Carter was sitting between her mom and Quinn during the game, She was trying not to cheeer for Connor as he skated down the ice with the puck when Brenda Smith hit Connor in the face, Carter inhaled sharply seeing Connor hold his face and immediately get led down to the tunnel.

Quinn eyes widen in worry for Connor, he felt Carter grip his arm tightly as she stared at the ice. Quinn brought his other hand holding her hand, “He’ll be okay Cart.” Quinn hoped that he was right.

Ellen frowned having a feeling Connor means more to Carter than she originally thought but she brought a hand to Carter’s back gently rubbing it seeing Carter super tense.

The first period continued and Carter was still sitting tensely trying to see if Connor would come out for the second period, She felt her stomach drop when she saw Connor not returning to the bench with the rest of the team.

A throat was cleared next to them and Quinn and Ellen looked up seeing a women who looks like she’s a Blackhawks worker, “Hi i’m part of the medical staff for the blackhawks and Connor is asking for Carter.” She smiled softly seeing Carters head snap towards her when she mentioned Connor.

Carter looked towards Quinn, Quinn nodded, “Go check on him.” Quinn smiled and Carter quickly got up following the worker.

“They’re not just friends are they?” Ellen realized looking at her son who just smiled and shrugged at her.

Carter felt like the walk to the Blackhawks medical room room took forever but when she got in there she saw the medical team and Connor laying on the bed with an ice pack on his jaw, Carter quickly walked into the room holding Connor’s hand grabbing his attention.

Connor eyes soften staring at his worried girlfriend, he squeezed her hand back.

“He can’t be talking yet, not untill we confirm for sure what is wrong with him.” One of the doctors explained to Carter, Carter nodded.

“And what is it that your think is injured.” Carter questioned not looking away from Connor.

“We’re hopping it’s not correct but it’s seems he broke something in his jaw and will most likely need to have it fixed by surgery.” The doctors explained. Carter took a deep breath and nodded.

“We’ve gave him some pain meds so he should be good, but we’ve just got another player we need to go look at.” The team of doctors excused themselves, leaving the room with Carter and Connor the only ones still in there.

Carter sat on the chair next to the bed with Connor’s eyes following her, she brought their connected hands to her lips pressing multiple kisses to his hand, “I’m sorry.” Carter knew how much it hurts and sucks to get injury ecspecially in your Rookie year.

Connor squeezed her hand back, Carter gently brushed her hand through his hair.

“Do you want me to text your mom?” Carter knew how much she must be worrying right now, Connor blinked slowly and Carter knew that was a yes, she kept her hand intertwined with Connor but used her other hand to pull out her phone and quickly texted Melanie to let her know Connor is okay, injured but okay.

Carter was about to slip her phone back in her pocket when Connor squeezed her hand and gestured to her phone, she handed it to watching Connor pull up notes, “You look very pretty :)” Connor typed it out and turned the screen more to her, Carter let out a breathless chuckle, “Connor Bedard only you would find a way to compliment me while injured.” Carter pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

Connor wasn’t supposed to be moving his jaw at all, so he couldn’t smile which was incredibly difficult in the presence of his best friend and girlfriend, “What! I love you it’s easy.” Connor typed back.

Carter just smiled shaking her head fondly at her boyfriend.

“Do you need me to come with you?” Carter soflty asked because hockey wasn’t even close of importance when it came to Connor, she would miss as many games as she’s needed to be there for him.

“No, you’re not missing any games. Don’t worry i’ll be fine and bedsides you know my mom she will be on the first flight to Chicago, I’ll be okay.” Connor typed into the notes.

Carter slowly let out a breath nodding as she read the text, “Okay fine, i won’t miss any games but if you need me all you have to do is ask okay.”

“I know baby, I love you.” Connor typed on her phone once more. Carter smiled soflty, “I love you too Connie.”

Connor handed the phone back to her, Carter slipped it into her pocket and rested her chin on Connor’s stomach just taking the short time they have to together to look at him.

They heard the buzzer go off for the end of the game a few minutes and knew it was time to say their goodbyes, Carter stood up leaning over resting her forehead very light against Connor’s.

“I’ll see you soon.” Carter whispered feeling her throat tighten with emotion always hating saying goodbye to Connor. Connor squeezed her hand three more times before reluctantly letting her hand go.

Carter pressed one more kiss to his forehead before standing up and walking to the door with Connor watching her leave.

Carter shut the door behind her not in the best mood, she looked up seeing a worrier Ellen and Quinn by the Devils medical, she felt her heart drop again, she walked over quickly, “Who got hurt?”

Quinn and Ellen quickly looked over at Carter, “Jack, something with his upper body they don’t know yet.” Quinn answered, Carter frowned.

Jack seemed upset when he came out of the medical room, “I’m not playing tomorrow.”

“Oh Jack.” Ellen frowned pulling him into a gently hug being cautious of the sling and his injury.

Jack had a permanent frown on his face, Carter grabbed his hand gently squeezing it, “I’m sorry.” Carter frowned knowing how much Jack loves being able to play against Quinn and her.

Jack nodded soflty squeezing her hand back.

Luke and Nico walked over to the Medical hall seeing the four standing outside.

Luke quickly into walked over pulling Carter into a hug holding her tightly, “Hi.” He breathed out a sigh holding his baby sister.

“Hi Lu.” Carter mumbled back not realizing how much she needed this hug, Luke pulled back and quickly hugged Quinn, Quinn and Luke hugged each other tightly.

“Hey Nico.” Carter soflty smiled at him. Nico smiled at her pulling her into a gently hug, “Hello Carter.”

“You ready to go bud?” Nico looked towards Jack who nodded, they all walked out together to the parking garage saying their goodbyes before Nico, Jack and Luke got into one car and Ellen, Carter and Quinn got in the other.

Ellen dropped them off at the hotel saying her good nights before driving off, Quinn and Carter walked through the hotel to their hotel room.

Quinn pulled his sister into a hug knowing they both could use on, “How was he?” Quinn asked not being able to before.

“They think he broke his jaw.” Carter simply answered upset for Connor and Jack.

“Shit.” Quinn cursed knowing that’s not good, “Try to get some sleep please and my doors always open you know this.” Quinn pressed a kiss to her head as she nodded at him and turned walking into the hotel room seeing Cole fast asleep in his bed.

Carter quietly grabbed her pajamas and toiletries and headed to the bathroom, she did her skin care and changed into Connor’s grey sweatpants and black lululemon long sleeve, she headed out of the bathroom. She plugged her charger into the wall and plugged her phone in and slid into bed.

January 6, 2023

Carter tosssed and turned most the night to worried to get any good sleep. She stopped trying after four in the morning and spent a few hours on her phone before Cole woke up and they had to get breakfast with the team.

She heard Cole waking up and grabbing his phone, she got out of bed and headed to the bathroom and did her morning skincare, she threw her messy hair into a bun and headed back into the room.

“Morning.” Cole nodded at Carter who nodded in reply not offending Cole as he knows Carter isn’t a morning person or a talker until she had coffee.

Cole headed into the bathroom and quickly got ready as Carter put on her ugg slippers and scrolled on her phone until Cole was ready.

Cole came out of the bathroom and the two walked out of the room to the breakfast area, they saw most of their team all spread out across the large room but saw Quinn, Elias and Brock at one table with open seats.

Cole and Carter walked through the buffet grabbing their foods, Carter just grabbed a bowl of oatmeal and put a bunch of fruit on the top but what she really wanted was coffee, she grab the biggest mug they had and filled it to the top with black coffee to tired to even care to want a flavor or sweetness in it.

Cole and Carter walked over to Quinn, Elias and Brock. Carter slid into the booth next to a Quinn and Cole sliding in next to her. Carter immediately started drinking her coffee quickly making Brock laugh fondly use to Carter needing coffee.

Quinn frowned looking at his sister being to easily tell she didn’t get a goodnight sleep seeing the hunch in her posture and the dark enough eye bags you wouldn’t be able to see if you didn’t know her.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Quinn whispered to his sister, Carter looked over to Quinn shaking her head softly, “Why don’t we go take a nap before we have to leave and get you a few hours go sleep?”

Quinn knew Carter has always had a extremely hard time falling asleep and staying asleep, most times she can only sleep is when she’s around people she very comfortably, Connor and Carter has started face-timing when she moved to Vancouver and she ended up sleeping great with him over facetime. Carter also figured out she sleep well with her dog next to her.

Carter softly nodded starting to eat her oatmeal.

Carter was silent throughout the breakfast and silently walked with Quinn away from their teammates and heading to her hotel room.

Quinn walked in slipping his shoes off and lying in her bed, “Come on.” Carter slipped off her slippers putting her phone on the nightstand and slid into the spot next to her brother, she rested her head against his side and Quinn gently rubbing her back, she could feel herself slowly falling asleep and her eyes falling shut.

Carter slowly woke up to Quinn waking her, she grumbled burying her head into the bed, “Cmon Cart, it’s been a good few hours we are leaving in less than an hour.” Quinn slid out of the bed once he knew she was awake and headed out of her hotel room to his.

Carter rubbed her eyes to wake up and yawned, She got out of bed grabbing her outfit for the game. She headed to the bathroom seeing Cole chilling in his suit already sitting on the bed.

Carter washed her face and brushed her teeth to wake herself up, before taking her hair out of the even messier bun fixing it so it can be down for before the game.

She put on a pair of black trousers, while long sleeve thermal and green v neck sweater with black pointed toe heeled boots, she slipped off most of her jewelry expect her two necklaces that she still plays with them on.

Carter sat on the bed pulling out phone responding to Connor for a good while till she had to leave.

Carter grabbed her wired headphones and walked out of the room with Cole, they walked down to the lobby where there was a small Cafe and they could see a lot of their teammates getting something warm to drink.

Carter and Cole walked over to the line and waited in the line, Carter order a hot vanilla oat latte, she quickly grabbed her drink sighing when she took a sip, they walked back into the lobby seeing almost all of the team waiting there to get onto the bus.

They all headed onto the bus, Carter slid into a row slipping on her headphones and playing her playlist while drinking in her coffee, she felt someone sit next to her and looked over seeing Demko who flashed a smile, she smiled back before turning her head back to the window.

The bus pulled into the Devils Arena, and the team all started getting out of the bus, Carter walked out of the bus and down the hallways to the locker room. She threw her coffee into the trash, shutting off her music and shutting her phone off and putting it her stall.

Carter warmed up before the game and before she knew she was on the ice.

The Canucks won 6-4 againt the Devils, Carter having a goal and an assist as well as getting in a fight against Brenden Smith on the ice, Carter may have gave him a bloody nose and knocked him to the ground, she was a angry about the hit on Connor even if it was a clean hit.

Carter and Quinn talked to all their family and friends that came for the game for a good while before they had to go back to the hotel.

Carter slipped into her hotel room quickly changing and slipping into bed and texting Connor before slowly falling asleep.

January 7, 2024

The Canucks players had a free day, no practice and no game so they were free to do whatever they wanted for the day.

Carter woke up earlier knowing her parents were coming to pick up Quinn and her for the day. She slipped out of bed and got ready in the bathroom, deciding to keep on Connor’s grey sweatpants and throw on a creme quarter zip, and slipped a pair of socks on and then put her slippers on, she threw her hair into a messy bun and headed out of the bathroom.

She grabbed her phone and headed out of the room quietly seeing Cole still fast asleep, she headed down to the breakfasts and grabbed oatmeal again and a big mug of coffee, she started eating when Quinn sat down in front of her with his food.

“Morning Cart.” Quinn smiled soflty at his sister.

“Morning.” Carter grumbled drinking her coffee, Quinn just chuckled at her.

Quinn and Carter got rid of their dishes and headed out to the hotel lobby seeing Jack’s car outside, they quickly walked to the car feeling the cold falling snow on them. Quinn opened the door letting Carter in first before getting in behind her shutting the car.

“Hello Loves.” Ellen turned around in her seat to smile at her kids, missing the days she saw them everyday.

“Hi mom.” Carter and Quinn spoke in unison.

“Hi dad.” Carter smiled at her dad in the drivers seat getting a smile through the mirror. The drive was mostly comfortable silence as they drove to Jack and Luke’s apartment.

The four got out of the car and headed up to the apartment, they walked into the apartment seeing Jack and Luke talking to each other at the couch, they both looked up seeing their family walk in.

Carter slipped off her slippers and walked to the couch sitting next to Luke and sliding under his blanket, Luke just laughed putting an arm around his sister. Quinn walked over sitting between Carter and Jack.

Ellen and Jim sat at the other end of the couch next to each other. They ended up all just catching up on each other’s lives.

Carter looked at her family all talking to each other and knew she needed to tell them, she grabbed Quinn’s hand, “I’m seeing someone.” Carter blurted out to her family, the room went silent as they all turned to Carter who was fidgeting with Quinn’s hand.

“How long has this been going on.” Ellen soflty smiled at her youngest having a feeling she was right yesterday.

“She’s been in love with him for over four years.” Quinn chuckled at his sister, not realizing how guilty Jack and Luke felt hearing that.

“Quinn!” Carter hissed with a blushing face just making Quinn laugh knowing he always enjoys teasing his sister.

“We started dating officially almost a month ago.” Carter responded to her mom’s question.

“Do we know him?” Jim questioned not sure how to feel that his little girl isn’t so little anymore.

“Uh Yeah, Um Connor, Connor Bedard we played together at Regina.” Carter smiled softly at the question, making her parents share a look seeing how in love she looks just by talking about him.

“How come you never told us about him before?” Jack questioned, feeling terrible his sister has a crush for years and he never knew, he’s not saying she should tell him, he’s her brother he should figure this stuff out, like he’s sure Quinn did.

“Ah, honestly i’ve talked about him as my friend, but um i was trying to figure my feelings all out.” Carter truthfully spoke not trying to keep anything from her family but her feelings and the relationship with Connor before they got together was complicated and was painful she didn’t really want to talk about it a lot.

“When can we meet him as your boyfriend.” Luke squeezed her shoulder, going to try to pay more attention to her life feeling guilty he never knew.

“I was planning this weekend but he had to get back to Chicago early.” Carter spoke fiddling with Quinn’s fiddling with his hand still as she is still nervous about Connor upcoming surgery tomorrow.

“OH MY GOD!” Jack shouted, “That’s who you went to visit during the summer!” Jack has been trying to figure out what friend she was visiting in Chicago.

“Yes.” Carter softly nodded.

“Please why do you think she went to Seattle a few weeks ago.” Quinn smirked honestly enjoying this.

“You went to Seattle!” Ellen was surprised having not know her daughter went on a little trip.

“Just for two nights when uh the blackhawks we’re playing there.” Carter just shrugged nonchalantly.

“Eww, you slept in the same bed as a boy!” Jack dramatically groaned making his family chuckle at him.

“Do you also want to know that we use to be roommates for road trips?” Cater smirked mischievously at her brother making Luke and Quinn snicker.

“EW!” Jack groaned in disgust, not even wanting her to sleep in the same room as a boy. The family just shook their heads at his dramatics.

“Does he treat you alright?” Ellen soflty questioned kinda sad that she wasn’t there to see her daughter experiencing her first crush.

“Yeah, he’s treats me perfectly.” Carter smiled nodding.

“Perfectly is an understatement, Con is head over heels for Cart, he sends her flowers multiple times a week.” Quinn smirked, Quinn also the one of the two people that knows everything of Carter and Connor’s relationship.

“Wait! those flowers were from him?” Luke questioned remembering the flowers Carter had a few weeks ago when they played against each other in Vancouver.

“Yeah.” Carter nodded with a blush across her cheeks.

“Well as long as you’re happy, we’re happy.” Ellen smiled at her daughter. Carter let out a sigh of relief and smiled, “Now do you have any pictures?” Ellen grinned at her daughter and Carter smiled happily and got off the couch walking over plopping down next to her mom pulling out her phone to show her mother a lot of pictures.

Jim looked over at his eldest, “Does he treat her right?” Jim needed to make sure seeing how happy she was talking about him.

Quinn nodded, fondly smiling as Connor had became someone Quinn thinks of a younger sibling over the years, “Oh definitely. Connor treats Carter perfectly there would be no better for her.” Quinn reassured his father and brother.

“Good.” Jack nodded looking serious.

“Connor is exactly what Carter needs, it took awhile but they finally got together.” Quinn fondly rolled his eyes remembering all the time they were so obviously in love but not together.

Carter showed her mother many of the photos her and Connor have taken together and Ellen could see how much the two love each other in the photos it was obvious.

Carter was relived to tell her family about her relationship and they all took to well.

They spent the rest of the day all catching up and having a dinner before letting Quinn and Carter go back to their hotel and Jack, Luke, Ellen and Jim will see them tomorrow as the four are going to the Canucks game againt the Islanders to watch Carter and Quinn play.

[n0ahsebastians]

hello loves!! this is my first post on here EVER!!! that's kinda crazy HAHA this came from a special place in my heart, the first noah fic i've ever written (it's also posted on my ao3 account teehee) but i finally decided to post them on here. i hope you all enjoy and let me know what you think! i'll post more if y'all like this one :D

18+ content; PLEASE DO NO READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18!!

warnings: smut (not too much but enough), lots of fluff and lots of love.

sugar on the blood cells, carbon on the brain (title from 'aqua regia' by sleep token)

They arrived late back home. The plane ride felt excruciatingly long and he was so glad to be on solid ground again. The tour was long, long but one of the best they’d done in a long time. One of their favorites, he thinks, as he’s grabbing his luggage from the carousel. The airport’s quiet; an almost ominous humming sounds from the escalators moving up and down and the lights above them. The few people that are flying late are sleeping in the chairs near gates or waiting for their rides to arrive out front. The guys and crew assist in hauling the equipment out to the bus, pulling suitcases of clothes and instruments and whatever else they can grab in the meantime. It’s freezing outside, colder than the weather they just left hours ago. Goddamn East Coast winters.

He can’t wait to get home, to the comfort of his own space again. To his kitchen, his couch, his bed, her. 

He keeps looking at the last text she sent him before he boarded the plane, see you so soon, be safe. i love you ❤️ 

She was asleep hours ago; time differences are a bitch but he replied to her anyways  just landed. on our way home. love you baby 😚

He can’t stop smiling at the message, knowing he would see her again in mere minutes. The thought of holding her again, kissing her, lying next to her for the first time in 3 months, was enough to make this whole tour worth it. 

Years ago when they first met, it was nothing more than a few words here and there between them. He dropped out of high school, she continued her studies. He started a band, she became an event manager. They stayed in touch here and there over the years but nothing was ever serious. They didn’t want to complicate things within their lives, disrupt the process or the flow.

But then the calls became more frequent. The texts became flirty, they were telling each other about their days and making sure to check in on one another. She called him when she was having rough days and he did the same. He was always willing to make the time to talk to her, to calm her down, get her breathing under control again. He was her lifeline you could say, in more ways than one. 

Then there was that time they Facetimed and she told him she missed him. How she missed seeing him everyday. How she missed coming home to him and even the little things like holding his hand and watching movies together. They’d only officially been together three months, but there was something there. Something so much more than just phone calls and long distance texts. It was something real.

It started innocently. Until it wasn’t so much.

“How much do you miss me?”

She could see a gleam in his eye, one she hadn’t seen before but she liked it. A lot.

“So much.” Her voice was soft, her t-shirt was riding up over her thigh; he could see the soft skin of her hip in the glow of the lamp from their bedroom; she was only wearing underwear and all he wanted was to put his mouth there. Fucking hell.

“I fucking miss you so much.” 

His words made her stomach flutter and she hummed softly. She watched as he shifted on the hotel bed, adjusting the laptop to have a better view of her. 

“Can we…do something?” He sounded so nervous, he didn’t know why he was nervous but he was. Maybe because this woman was absolutely sexy and he wanted her so bad. Wanted everything with her. He didn’t know it then but he’d always wanted her.

“Yeah.” 

“I wanna see you,” he said lowly, running his hand through his hair, “all of you.”

She gulped, trying to process his words. They had never done this, any of this. They hadn’t even taken that step yet. It excited her that he wanted this with her. That closeness, that intimacy. Finally.

“Noah…I-“

“Do you trust me?”

She took a deep breath, smiling softly at him. She did. She always had.

“Yes.”

“I got you. Trust me, baby.”

She loved hearing him call her that. It slipped off his tongue so effortlessly. His tongue. She started thinking about the way it would feel on her body then, how he’d kiss her, mouth at her to bring her to the edge. It suddenly made her squeeze her thighs together. Noah noticed, smiling at her from the laptop screen.

“What’re you thinking about right now?” He situated the laptop screen so she could see the length of his body now, his sweats clinging to his long legs and his bare chest in view, tattoos on full display. 

“You. I’m…thinking about you.”

“What about me?”

She was embarrassed. How was she supposed to tell him she was thinking about his tongue inside of her, how she wanted to feel his lips on her skin and his fingers tracing the skin of her hips, her thighs, his teeth nipping at her stomach and everywhere he could, when they hadn’t even made it to that point yet?

“Tell me.” His voice was low, sexy. It made her entire body ignite.

“Your…tongue.” There it was. She felt her cheeks heat at her own words. She couldn’t believe this was happening right now. 

“Fuck. Tell me more.”

“Noah…”

“Baby, there’s no one else here. Just you and me,” he assured her. She took a deep breath and tried to relax herself, tried to think of something that wouldn’t make her want to bail out of this. There was no way she could now; she told him she wanted his tongue on her. She was in too deep now.

“Honey, look at me.” His voice was soft, caring. He was sweet, so sweet, and she adored that about him. He knew she was just as nervous as him, just as vulnerable. This was a big step for them. For her even. She hadn’t been intimate with anyone in years. There had been no one after high school. Until Noah.

When she was finally able to look at him again, he was smiling sweetly. God she wished he was here with her. Wished she could touch him and hold him and kiss him. Lay next to him, inhaling his body wash and hints of cologne that still lingered on his skin.

“Just trust me, okay?” he says finally. She closes her eyes and nods again, keeping eye contact with him as she begins to remove her shirt. He stops her though.

“No, leave that on. Take off your underwear.”

Fuck. Fuck.

She bit her lip, lying back against the headboard. She hooked her fingers into the thin material, slowly sliding it down her legs. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head as she tossed them onto the floor. She folded her legs over one another, pulling her t-shirt down a bit so her lower half was hidden from the camera. 

“Fuck, I wish I could touch you right now. Kiss you.”

She decided to finally play along. She was feeling braver now that she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

“Where would you touch me?” She ran her fingertips over the sheets, looking up at the camera just as she heard him softly whimper. 

“Between your legs. Fuck, you’d be so warm and wet. You’re wet now aren’t you?”

She was. She could feel the heat between her legs and she needed something. Needed a release. 

“Can you touch yourself for me?”

“Mhm.”

She hesitated before slowly parting her legs, making sure he could see her. She heard him gasp when she touched her fingers to herself, laid her head back against the pillows. She started slowly, listening to his breathing become more and more ragged. This was so out of her element, but she was loving the reaction she was getting out of him.

“Fuck, you look so good. I wish I was there with you.”

“Mmm…Noah…”

“What do you need, baby?”

“Talk to me more.” She started moving her fingers faster, not too fast though. She didn’t want to come yet. 

“Does it feel good, you touching yourself?”

She nodded. 

“Tell me how it feels.”

“Mm…s’good…” She moaned, making the fabric of his sweats tighten. Fucking hell.

“What was that you were saying about my tongue? You want me to taste you, don’t you?” 

She whimpered, her legs tensing at his words. Yeah, that’s all she was thinking about. His tongue inside of her. It was making her brain short circuit. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I wanna taste you so bad, you have no idea.” He practically growled as he continued watching her fingers move in and out of herself. It was the fucking dirtiest, but hottest thing he’d seen, probably ever. And it was driving him crazy.

“Fuck, look at you right now. You look incredible.”

That made her sigh softly, a smile forming across her lips and her brow creasing as she continued to touch herself. She needed him to keep talking though, the silence was not helping her.

“Keep going.”

He groaned, palming himself through his sweats. She sounded heavenly, like nothing he’d

ever heard before. Everything about her was unreal. 

“Spread your legs more. So I can see you come.”

She did, forgetting for a moment that he wasn’t in the room with her and was thousands of miles away in a hotel, watching her through a laptop screen. She tried to bite her lip to keep quiet but he didn’t want that. He needed her to make more noises. 

“I wanna hear you. Don’t be shy anymore.”

“Fuck, it…feels so good.” Her moans were the sexiest thing he’d ever heard. He could

feel his sweats tightening some more and he wanted to touch himself so fucking badly. So he did. 

“Yeah? You wanna come?”

“Fuck, please,” she whined, her fingers moving faster.

“You’re so sexy like this, Jesus fuck.” He wished he could see the way she looked when she was coming. The moans and whimpers leaving her mouth as she fucked her fingers in and out of herself was the hottest thing he’d ever seen or heard. 

“Noah…I’m…”

“I know, baby. Come for me.” 

That was it. She gasped, her release hitting her harder than she wanted it to. She came on her fingers, her legs shaking and her toes curling. Watching her fall apart from his words was enough for him to finish himself and he wasn’t far behind her. 

She pulled her t-shirt back down over her legs, lying sideways on the bed again so she could see him. Her cheeks were flushed, so were his. She smiled lazily at him and he did the same. 

“Think I need to shower now,” he said, making her giggle. She didn’t even know he was touching himself until she saw him wipe his hand on a towel hanging from the chair next to the dresser. It made her legs squeeze together all over again.

“I wish you were here,” she said, her fingers reaching up to the screen. He smiled at her again.

“I know, me too.” He mirrored her actions, placing his fingers against hers.

“Umm…that was…”

“Hot.”

She giggled again and he wanted to kiss her so badly. He wished he was home with her

now. 

“Yeah. Maybe we could…try it for real. You know…when you…come home.”

He smiled again, his lips curving up in the widest grin, making his eyes crinkle in  

the corners. 

“I am absolutely not taking my hands off of you when I get home.”

And she knew he meant it.

He’s home now and all he can think about is lying down. He’s exhausted and feels like a 200-pound weight has just attached itself to his shoulders. He tells Matt and Jolly they can unload the truck in the morning after they all sleep. It’s almost 2am and he just needs to lie down. That’s all he’s thinking about. And her. 

The three of them enter the house after the rest of the group heads out, saying they’ll see each other in the morning for breakfast and some much needed relaxation outside of a busy tour schedule. 

He unlocks the door, tossing his bag in the corner by the couch, not even bothering to bring it the fifteen extra steps into his bedroom. He doesn’t care, he’ll take care of it later. 

Jolly and Matt go their separate ways as well, hugs and goodnights are traded before Noah makes his way to his room finally. He quietly opens the door so as to not wake her. She’s fast asleep when he squeezes into the room, shutting the door softly and locking it. He doesn’t really need to lock it but it’s been three fucking months since he’s been home and he wants to just spend as much time with her as possible in the confines of their bedroom. 

She stirs gently as he makes his way around the bedroom, opening drawers to grab fresh boxers and a clean t-shirt. A routine he hasn’t been used to in months. She’s wearing one of his shirts, he sees now, the way it hugs the curves of her body so fucking well, it makes his chest tighten and his stomach flip.

It’s been two years now. Two years since they decided to try this thing out. Besides his friends and the band and all the other things he worked endless hours to make his own, she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. She was everything to him, she was his lifeline. 

He changes into his clean clothes, tossing his traveling wear into the hamper by the bathroom. He rubs his hands over his face, trying to function for a few more minutes to brush his teeth. Turning the water on wakes her up and he swears under his breath as he attempts to crack the door to keep the light out of her eyes. It’s too late though, she’s up now. 

He rinses his mouth out, turning off the water just as the door opens to reveal his very sleepy but incredibly beautiful girlfriend. She smiles lazily at him, reaching up to embrace him in a hug. He laughs gently as he reaches down to wrap his arms under her thighs and hitch them around his waist. The feel of her skin against his after all this time, the warmth of her breath, the goosebumps that raise on her legs as he runs his thumbs over the skin. This. This is all worth it.

“Hi baby,” he kisses her forehead, her cheek, holding her tightly against him. 

“Hi bub,” she says into the skin of his neck. He hears her sniffle and she pulls her face away to rest their foreheads together. He kisses her for the first time in three months, forceful but full of love and everything they missed while they were separated from one another. 

“I missed you so fucking much,” he says against her lips. She presses her hands into his face, holding his jaw and rubbing her thumbs over the smile lines in his cheeks. He feels tears running down her cheeks and he wipes them away with his thumb.

“I missed you so bad.”

“You smell so good,” he says, pulling away from their kiss to press his nose into her neck. She giggles, wrapping her fingers in his hair which he’s cut a bit more since the last time they saw each other.

“You cut your hair.”

“Not much. Just a little bit off the back.” He runs his hand through it, keeping one underneath her legs which are still wrapped around him.

“It looks good,” she smiles, placing another kiss to his lips. She feels him smile against it, turning off the bathroom light and walking them to their bed. He lays her down against the sheets, lifting her shirt to press kisses to her stomach. She giggles again, her fingers in his hair as he continues down her body.

“Noah, it’s 2am,” she says, with no indication that she wants him to stop. He hums, taking one of her hands from his hair and intertwining their fingers. The gesture makes her stomach flutter, she loves when he does that.

“You’re not convincing me of anything.” He kisses her hip, tugging at the material of her underwear to expose more skin. She looks down to watch him, his tongue running the length of her hip bone and she bites her lip.

“You need sleep, bub.” A sigh leaves her lips as he tugs down her underwear. His fingertips against the skin of her thighs raises more goosebumps and she lifts her legs to kick them off. He laughs gently. 

“I know,” another kiss to her hip, “fucking exhausted”, open mouthed kiss to her pelvic bone, “but I just want to be with you for a little bit.” He looks up at her through his eyelashes and she really can’t resist this man no matter how hard she tries. He has her in too deep. He’s drawing circles in the skin of her thigh, she traces her finger over the tattoo on his throat, her favorite, and feels his pulse quicken at her touch. He kisses her wrist, her thumb running over his bottom lip. Touches that they’re trying to memorize again.

“Yeah, okay.”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “‘Yeah okay what?’”

“Yeah, okay. Put your mouth on me then.”

He smiles at her. “There she is.” He presses a kiss to the inside of her thigh before bringing her legs to rest over his shoulders. Her fingers find their home in his hair again, tugging gently as he presses his tongue to the skin of her thigh. 

“Fuck, I missed you,” he whispers, moving closer to where she’s needed him the last three months. His breath is warm, icy from his toothpaste. The combination against her center sets her whole body on fire. 

“I missed–unhh!” 

“Sshh, ssh ssh you’re so loud,” he laughs gently against her, the vibration making her gasp softer this time. His hand flies up to cover her mouth. 

“Sorry, shit.” 

He laughs against her thigh. “Be quiet for me.”

She closes her eyes, letting his lips make their way back to her center. He blows against her before pressing his tongue into her, a groan leaving his lips as she presses her heels into his shoulder blades. It feels so good, not just the sex but this. Him. Being with him again. Her hands in his hair, his hands on her legs, everywhere on her skin. He was her home. They both needed this.

“You taste so fucking good,” he growls against her, bringing her back from her thoughts. She moans again, her hips lifting to meet his mouth, his tongue moving against her in the most sensual way, she feels like she might explode from this entire moment. 

“Love…you…” she manages to say between heedy breaths and tugs of his hair.

“Fucking love you.”

“Noah…baby, I–gonna…”

“I know, baby, doing so good for me. Come for me,” he breathed against her. She absolutely hated when he said things like that, it made her come too fast. She wanted to sit on his face, fuck his mouth forever. Besides making love, this was their favorite. 

“Stop…saying that…”

“What, that you’re being so good for me?” He tongued at her again, her legs shaking against his head. She gasped as she came against his mouth, her heels pressing farther into his shoulder blades if that was at all possible. She tugged at his hair again as he coaxed her down from her first orgasm in almost three months (there were several Facetime calls but they weren’t always alone to have phone sex and the release was everything she needed).

He hummed against her before pressing several kisses to the inside of her thighs. She nearly smacked him for getting her off so quickly.

“Fuck off,” she laughed, sitting up to pull him from between her legs. “Get up here and kiss me.”

He did. He smiled against her lips, his tongue pressing into her mouth. She could taste herself on him and she didn’t exactly hate it. He breathed into her mouth, laying back against the headboard and bringing her with him. She laughed gently, reaching down to lift her shirt over her head. Noah’s eyes widened, staring at her naked body in front of him again for the first time in three fucking months. The longest three months of his life. 

“Are you gonna take your clothes off, fool?”

Fuck he loved this woman so much. He leaned forward to bite down gently on her bottom lip, a gentle moan leaving her.

“I can’t when you’re sitting on me, you ass.”

“You started this,” she jabbed at his chest then reached down to drag her fingers along the waistband of his boxers. She started tracing his tattoos again, the letters and the scriptures he had, all his anime characters across his sternum and thighs. She was distracted, he was distracting. His body and his hands and his lips and everything about him. He lifted her chin to look at him. 

“Hi,” she said, smiling. He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her nose. 

“Hi. You went away again.” 

“Yeah, sorry. Just…missed this.” She traced the ink on his chest again, placing a kiss to

the skin there. 

“Me too.” 

She pressed a kiss to his chin, then up to his lips. His hands came to rest on her bare waist, slowly dragging her center across his clothed one. She moaned into his mouth, digging her fingers into his chest. 

“And I missed your mouth but I wanna make love to you before we go to sleep.” 

She hummed, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him forward so he was on top of her again. He kissed her neck, down her arms, across her breasts, her nipples. He swiped his tongue across the nub, earning a low moan from her again. He trailed his lips down to her stomach, open mouthed kisses pressed against her thighs and hips. 

When he reached her ankles, he lifted her leg so he could press one last kiss to her tattoo there, earning another giggle from the beautiful woman beneath him. 

“I love you.”

She smiled up at him as he stood from the bed to remove his boxers. She could feel her body heating up again as he came to rest over her, lifting one of her arms above her head and intertwining their fingers. He spread her legs gently, pressing his fingers against her to open her up again. 

“I love you,” she moaned at the sensation of his fingers and the head of his cock beginning to brush against her. She closed her eyes, her lips falling open as he pressed their foreheads together and rolled his hips forward gently to meet hers. It felt like the whole room went still, their fingers squeezing one anothers above her head and his other hand on her thigh, dragging it up to wrap around his waist. 

“Fuck, I missed this, you feel…so fucking good.” Noah began to move slowly, careful to not hurt her or go too fast. He wanted this to last as long as possible.

“Oh my…Noah…”

“Fuck, baby…can you come for me again?”

“Mhm.” 

She was close again, he could feel it in the way her thighs were starting to shake again and the way she was whimpering into his mouth. Her fingers gripped his shoulder, digging into his skin as he rocked against her gently.

“Fuck, I can’t believe I went this long without you,” he breathes out, a low chuckle coming from her lips. 

“I missed you…so much.”

“Fuck…I missed you.”

“Noah..unhh…”

That sound. That fucking sound. He was absolutely gone for this woman. She was everything to him.

“Come for me, baby. I…I got you.”

Her eyes squeezed shut, she tensed around him and gripped the skin of his shoulder again. The feel of her coming around him was enough for him to lose his fucking mind; he wasn’t far behind her, groaning into the skin of her neck and gripping her hip with the hand that wasn’t holding onto hers still. His hips stilled, rocking against her one last time before releasing a deep breath against her neck. Her fingers petted through his hair, against the nape of his neck, across his back, his shoulders. He could feel her heartbeat starting to slow again, a thin sheen of sweat was settling over their bodies and he didn’t want to move, wanted to stay like this with her forever. 

“I’m glad you’re home,” she finally said as he was lying on top of her. He chuckled, placing a kiss to her cheek. He tried to get up but she pulled him back down on top of her. He smiled at her.

“I’m glad I’m home too.”

“Did you guys have fun though?” Her lips were swollen and her cheeks were flushed, her collarbones glistening and a red mark was forming in the corner of her mouth from where he’d bit down on her lip. Goddamn she was so beautiful. 

“Yeah we did. Always do.”

“I’m proud of you bub,” she whispered, running her fingers over his cheek, pushing his hair back off his forehead. He smiled lazily down at her, pressing his lips to hers gently. She hummed, parting her lips to let his tongue press against hers again.

“I love you so much,” he says, rubbing their noses together. Another hum from her.

“I love you.”

[jasonsknight3]

Welp, it’s time, the new story has officially begun. This story takes place in Arkham knight. The Halloween that ruined so many lives and brought o the worst of the worst. However, what part do you play in it? How do you fit into the story? Well, fear not because I have to e answer.

Side note: this story is planed to literally take place during the time of the Arkham game and comic book. I will keep it as accurate as possible however, I will be taking and changing some things because I’m adding you in it. It will largely stay the same though. Enjoy!

The longest night

Chapter one

“Memory lane”

Jason. The closest thing to love you felt. Being with him felt good. Even though you were only 15, you felt that you could marry the guy. A match made in heaven. He was your voice when you couldn’t speak up, you were his reason when he had none. The emotional connection between you two was undeniable. Jason was also Robin, a hero, a boy with a heart of gold. Maybe that’s why you felt for him. Despite his rough upbringing and living on his own from 13-15 with his troubles his heart had golden roots.

Shrugging on your jacket, you left your apartment to buy a week's worth of groceries like you usually do every Monday. The fall air was a little nippy but not too bad. The only downside was there wasn’t much foliage in gothams cores so, no colorful leaves to be found unless you went outside the city. The walk to the store is a good fifteen minute walk, your family only had one car to share between the parents and you hadn’t paid your monthly bus pass card yet so, that’s not an option either. However, a nice long walk was just the medicine to clear the chaos at home from your mind. Your family wasn’t bad, not at all. You loved your mom and dad and they you. It’s just that money is extremely tight. Sometimes parents argue. Say things. That’s just how it is.

Whistling a tune the sound of an engine slowing down a little too close for comfort made you pause and turn your eyes to whoever was deciding to cause trouble. All of the unsure feeling melted away the moment you laid eyes on a familiar face. “Well if it isn’t trouble chaser Todd.” You comment with a wide grin. “You flatter me, such high praise (y/n)” he replied, sliding off his bike helmet and setting it down to rest between his legs on his bike with a lopsided grin. “So, where’s a girl like you heading on this…fine evening?” He asked, mimicking a British accent. “I happen to be going to the market on this chilled eve.” You respond in the same manner. “Would thou like an escort fair maiden?” Laughing, you drop the accent. “This fair maiden would love a ride.” Jason held out the biker helmet to you “your chariot awaits.” The helmet was a little big but still would do its job. Jason was special, Everyone would know that if they just took a closer look. He was smart, loved literature, funny, and kind. The ride was nice, clinging to Jason, your head resting against his back as the wind blew your jacket behind you. Since Jason showed up tonight, everything felt like a moment to remember, a moment to think about when you felt low. A core memory. Pulling into the parking lot, he shut off the engine and kicked the motorcycle's kick stand before helping you dismantle the bike.

Walking inside “Got the list?” Jason asked, pulling his hand out of his pocket to take it. “Yea, I got it.” Handing him the list his eyes read over the scratchy writing. “This is the same list from last Monday.” Jason stated his eye locking with yours. “Well, it's cheap and still keeps us fed. Besides, even with all three of us working, my mom, dad and I make only enough to get by.” Looking over the list again he smiled. “I think I can spice up your food selection a little.” You open your mouth to protest but he beats you to the punch. “And before you say “oh you don’t have to do that” I know. I can and want to.” The smile and warmth you felt in your heart was involuntary. Throwing an arm around your shoulder he said “Come on, let’s go get some good stuff.”

As you went through the isles you guys talked about your week so far. His was the usual excitement, fighting crime, school, all the things. Yours was the same as usual as well, school, work, a few screaming fights between the parents about money. Jason enjoyed giving you small gifts and little things here and there for you. Jason selected some produce, fruits, healthy and unhealthy foods. After checking out a d bagging the items it was time for the awkward ride home. It was a small struggle, you held on to a few plastic bags, some evenly divided on the handle of the bike. You had to stop only once to pick up the bags you dropped. Honestly, you were impressed with how well you both did hanging on after the one incident. When you guys got to your home, Jason helped you and your mom unpack the groceries and put them away. Your mom liked Jason but your dad was a little skeptical, as expected. Jason’s kindness earned a homemade dinner and a movie with you, your mother, and himself.

A fond day to cling to now

The sounds of laughter and cocky attitudes echoed in the batcave. “Remember (y/n) keep your hands up to protect your face and or swing, elbows low and in to protect damage to your ribs. Keep light on your feet so you can move quickly. Also-“ cutting him off you lunge at him tackling him to the mat on the floor. Jason cried out in surprise. “Oh shi-“ Alfred cut him off “language Master Todd.” Jason looked up at Alfred. “Sorry Alfred.” Alfred nodded and turned his attention back to nightwing and tending to his physical ailments from the night’s festivities. Jason turned back to you. “Now that wasn’t very fair of you.” Giving a triumphant smile you retort “Aren’t you supposed to be ready for anything?” Pursing his lips he thought about it. “Yea, I guess you're right.” In one swift moment he flipped you on your stomach having you I. A choke hold. No to together though, his legs wrapped around yours locking them I. Place. Your hands automatically shoot up to try and pry his hold off. Jason's breath tickled his ear “admit I’m the best.”

You: “you stink.”

Jason: “say I’m the coolest guy you know.”

You: “You're the weirdest guy I’ve ever met.”

Jason: “Admit I’m smart.”

You: “You have the brain of a toddler.”

Jason: “Say you think I'm sexy.”

You: “Look like a wet dog.” You snicker enjoying the banter. “Ugh, if I wanted to watch teenagers get it on I would rather watch a trashy romance movie. You guys are ridiculous.” Dick commenter to which Jason snapped back. “You’re just jealous I’m able to maintain a relationship.” The expression on Dicks face spoke volumes. Jason definitely hit a nerve. “Oh yea?” He inquired. “Yeah.” Jason nodded. Dick got off the seat. “Get up Todd.” Jason let go and whispered in your ear. “Watch this.”

Getting up you decided to stand next to Alfred who protested against dick fighting falling on deaf ears. Alfred realizing that this was happening whether he wanted it to or not he sighed. “I don’t know what to do with those boys.” Sitting back the duel began. Jason was bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Come on chickenwing! Bawk! Bawk!” Jason taunted with a wicked grin. “It’s Nightwing.”Dick corrected seething. The battle of honor began. Jason swung first, his fist connecting with Dicks lower run cage which seemed to just make Dick angrier. Dick swept Jason’s leg knocking him to the floor before pinning him and having Jason in a tight choke hold. “It's not so fun when it's not your girlfriend is it!” Dick said with a smug look. “Screw you!” Jason yelled anger very apparent in his voice as he jabbed his elbow into Dick’s rib again making him let go. With the new found freedom, Jason straddles him and starts pounding on him, punching him where he could. It was honestly a little scary watching from the outside. “Master Todd! Master Grayson! Enough of this childish behavior!” Jason stopped looking up at Alfred with a guilty expression before a fist connected to his chin knocking him off of Dick. Alfred and you intervene, you take Jason while Alfred takes hold of Grayson. “You mother-“ Dick cut Jason off “I will always do better than you, be better than you.” He said venom in his words. “At least I don't dress like I’m going to a fuckimg disco party to fight crime and look like a little bitch.” Jason yelled at him, that caught you so off guard. You had to fight to stifle the laugh. “I designed the suit myself you ass!” Dick retorted. “Yea, I can tell, Dick.��� “Boys, enough for the last time! Separate or so, help me I will tell Bruce to keep you both off missions for a Week!” Alfred is clearly fed up.

Both boys went to their rooms to calm down. “You really did a low blow going after the wardrobe.” You started breaking the silence as the both of you sat on the bed. “He’s an ass.” Jason was still very clearly in a mood. You take his hand, “I dot. Have siblings, but I do have a family. Family can be your worst enemy and your best friend. The rough patch will pass.

It’s a terrible thing, just as they were starting to work things out. He was gone.

Harsh words sounded through the off white walls of the apartment. Same old thing, money this, money that, we have to this, we have to that. After a day of work and school, arguing was the absolute last thing you wanted to hear. What better place to go to escape the noise than the fire escape.

There you were, eyes closed, the breeze gently cooling your skin. A wonderful feeling. That’s when another sensation touched your cheek, a warmth, something soft. Opening one eye you see what you knew was there. Jason’s lips left your cheek. “Hey.” He smiled. You wave your hand in front of your face trying to wave away the smell. “Geez you smell, and you're sweaty, wanna shower?” You offer jokingly but with kindness. “That would be amazing. Thanks.” He commented. “Oh, uh don’t be alarmed by the way. They are just arguing. That’s all.” Jason nodded knowingly, “Alright, I’ll keep that in mind.” Following him inside he tossed his duffle bag to the ground and pulled out some clean clothes and stuffed his sweaty red shirt in the duffles bag before disappearing to the bathroom and turning on the shower.

A few minutes later you found yourself reading a magazine. Something about Bruce Wayne and another charity he supported. Seems like a nice guy. Shortly after you thought maybe you’d be nice and wash his clothes. You needed to do your own laundry anyway. It was starting to pile up. Reaching into the back you pull out the shirt with just your pointer finger and thumb and the shorts. That’s when something caught your eye, something bright yellow. Touching the fabric it felt soft. Pulling it out more revealed the rest of the suit, the yellow turned out to be a cape with black on the other side. Under the cape however…was a suit. Not just any red and green suit, the Robin suit. Your mouth practically dropped to the floor. Is Jason Robin? Is this fake? No it could be, the suit is too well made to be a costume. Wait, if Jason is Robin does that mean Bruce knows? Wait…is Bruce Batman? No that can’t be right could it? The sound of the bathroom door opening snagged your attention. There stood Jason with worry in his expression. “YOU’RE ROB-“ Jason tackled you to the bed, his hand cupping your mouth, his face panicking. “Shhhhh, please, just be calm. Relax. I’ll explain everything.” He took a moment to look at you and recompose himself. “If I let you go, will you be quiet?” After you nodded in agreement he let go and got off of you help g you sit up. “Okay, um, I am Robin. I’ve been Robin for a while now. You know, fighting crime and helping Batman.” You listened as he spilled everything. Putting his trust in you. “I need you to keep this to yourself, okay?” Nodding you agree. “I promise.your secret is safe with me. On a lighter note-“ you smile feeling excited “you being Robin explains so much. Would you be willing to…can you put on the suit and show me. I wanna see it up close!” Jason laughed and agreed,

Sometimes you wonder if you didn’t know if Jason suddenly disappearing and never being able to come back would have made it easier.

[whimsical-roasting]

You reblogged that Sam gifs post and it reminded me of that headcanon i have of being Sam’s friend but you’re feisty and take no one’s shit. Like he’s always takes the high road and you’re like when they go low i go lowER. I would fight that Akufo dude for him no questions asked.

hi wifey <3 you are absolutely right!! i fucking love that idea of Sam having a bestie who'd throw hands for him.. it's on sight all the time.

special thanks to @sokkigarden for bouncing ideas off me, love you bby. okay, i wanna write about being friends w the AFC Richmond boys more, so if yall have ANY thoughts on being friends with ANY of the lads then send me requests on it so we can DISCUSS

OKAY BUT BEING BESTIES WITH SAM OBISANYA

he's such a wholesome and loyal friend... a breath of fresh air yknow?? Dani is more of that 'unconditional sunshine' energy, but Sam is positive whilst still keeping it real w you

and sooo you're hella loyal to him too. well, you're loyal to everyone you care about. you'd take a bullet for them, no questions asked, but probs a lot of cussing involved (same, but i'll come back to this)

sharing an airpod each if yall go out on a walk or join the team on a bus ride - if you're dating jamie then he NEEDS you next to him on the ride back, probs uses your shoulder to sleep on and has an arm around your waist so you can't leave, but that's a diff post ahahaha

having a shared spotify playlist that you both keep adding music too...the vibes are all over the place. "Y/N, I was trying to jam out to J.Cole, and then Adele came on??" "Oh yea, I was sad bout something earlier"

blanket forts and microwaveable caramel popcorn for when he's missing home

playing as him in FIFA when you're with the lads and yellin "YEA THATS MY BESTIE" every time you score as him

pinching his earlobes like his dad would for good luck on the days of a big match/when he's really nervous

since opening OLA'S, you join him when he attends small business owner conventions, but that's mainly to try the free food

since i'm vegetarian, telling him that his menu looks great but you can only stick to sumn like the jollof rice.. so next month when he invites you over to his restaurant for a catchup dinner there's a whole new lil section for vegetarian dishes on the menu (or whatever dietary inclusivr thingy etc.)

warning Sam about Afuko because "a man simply doesn't feed you pasta and lobster and send you a stack without something in mind" and him being like ??? what and you groan, "did you watch the tiktoks I sent you??"

hearing about how the Afuko rejection went and Sam only focusses on "he called me medium talent??" and you're SEETHING

you're like "what the living F U C K" and he's like "oh hey Y/N, don't worry, I know I am not medium talent" and you're like "what? no, shut up, obviously not, but that's not the POINT here. how did that ASSHOLE have the audacity to speak to you like that?!!"

you're searching up flights to Nigeria and opening a google map from the airport to Afuko's business residence or something, and Sam is like, "seriously, forget that guy. bullet dodged." and you're angrily muttering about how Afuko's gonna have to dodge the bazooka you're gonna smuggle onto the plane

"We cannot be best friends if you end up in jail because you tried to smuggle a bazooka onto the plane." "I just wanna talk to him...with a bazooka." "No." "Pleas-" "No."

telling Sam you might be getting feelings for Jamie and being nervous he'd be mad because of their relationship in S1, but you promise he's changed, and Sam is like, I know

wearing the Obisanya jersey and the rest of the boys are like 'hey why don't you ever support our merch' so like every match you're switching out jerseys before texting a pic to the groupchat

running into that Francis guy who's Afuko's right-hand man and "accidentally" stepping on his foot real hard like OOPS

giving him updates on your love life and vice versa. "Y/N, please tell me this one is not a loser." "Um, Sam, shut up; you know my rizz only seems to work on losers??" "hey, Jamie told me that telling a woman my favourite movie is Ratatouille is a bad idea... is it?" "just bake her a lasagna or something and say that's how you learnt to cook." "I am not doing that." "dammit, I thought we'd get lasagna for dinner"

doing random tiktok trends or challenges - the baking one where one person is blind, one is deaf, and one is mute, but they all gotta work together to bake a cake!! sam (tape around his mouth) x you (blindfolded) x jamie (loud ass headphones on)

jamie: pass the FOOKIN sugah!! *back turned to yall as he stirs the mix*

you: WHAT. WHERE. *randomly smacking shit, picking up the salt and dropping it on the counter and onto a spoon*

sam: mmmhnph! *waving his hands in your face like NO but you can't see*

you: *turning to jamie with a spoonful, which he probs tastes absentmindedly whilst stirring* OI TASTE THIS

jamie: FOOKS SAKE

[lunarubra]

Hi :) this is the first chapter of the Shadow of the Sea, let me know what you think about it in the comments. A big thank you to @cillmequick for beta-reading and being the sweetest person ever. I wouldn't have published it without her assurance that it doesn't completely suck.

Pairing: Cillian x OC (Jiyan)

Summary: In this AU set in 2010, Cillian has just finished filming 'Inception'. He has never been married, and after a few disappointing relationships, he finds himself feeling blocked in his personal life, even as his career continues to rise.This is a completely fictional story, not based on real life. I wrote this with the utmost respect for the man and his family.

Warning: Homesickness, Family Distance, Mention of Sexual Assault (not between OC and Cillian), Sexual Harassment, Date Rape Drug/Roofies

Words: 2700

Next | Masterlist

Chapter 1: Eire's Depths

Closing the laptop with too much force, Jiyan started massaging her temples, hoping to alleviate the tension and praying she wouldn't have to deal with a migraine anytime soon.

The library was silent; the only sound was the rain against the windows, soothing the last students. Even if the new semester just started, there were only a few people left in the study area on a Saturday afternoon. Most students had already headed to the pub for a pint or were getting ready for the clubs later.

Jiyan checked her phone, noticing too many messages she had been ignoring since the morning. Sighing, she opened her brother's chat and found three unread messages.

14h11: Ready for a call later?

16h22: Mom is pacing, almost started ironing. You need to call tonight.

18h42: Seriously sis... if you don't call tonight, I will sedate her and take the first plane to yours.

Jiyan chuckled and quickly answered Mikael.

19h13: Ironing, huh? Almost need an intervention.

19h13: Will call soon, little bro. Don't despair.

Clearing the table of books and notes, she put her laptop and the last few things away in her backpack.

Outside, it was raining. Again. 

And it was dark. Already.

Coming from a country where the sun kissed Jiyan's skin almost every day, the continuous rain on this island pierced her heart each time. She was tired and hoped to get home, have a cup of tea, and finally make the call she had been postponing for the last two weeks, perhaps even forgetting what she was doing on this verdant yet depressingly weathered island.

The ride to her place was fast, and the bus was on time, something she was gradually getting used to. Entering the small studio made her feel restless and anxious, intensifying the pressure on her temples. Looking around the space she had started calling home in the last few months did ease her discomfort a little. 

Having spent her childhood moving to different countries, Jiyan was acutely aware of the housing crises almost everywhere. Still, she was taken aback by the difficulty of finding a flat in Dublin.

After a month spent in a hostel dorm and countless useless house visits, her desperation reached a point where she considered a dubious Craigslist post seeking help in renovating an old studio. 

When she first checked it out, she realized the studio was actually above a car repair shop, and apparently, no one had lived there for about 30 years. Sean, the guy who owned the shop, almost cracked up when she asked about costs and materials. It took her a good 5 minutes to persuade him that she was capable of almost any woodworking task and that she could undertake the restorations in her spare time and during weekends if she could live there. They struck a deal: Sean would foot the bill for materials, and until the renovation was done, she'd cover her living expenses by doing all the work herself.

After two months of solid effort, she'd managed to put in new wood floors, set up a functional bathroom with a brand-new shower, and even start building herself a kitchen. Sure, the place was small, didn't have central heating, and still looked like a bit of a mess, but the one thing that sealed the deal for her was the wood stove. It reminded her of her mom’s cabin up in the mountains, where she'd spend lazy afternoons by the fire, lost in a good book with a cup of tea in hand. So, if she could bring a bit of that cozy feeling into her new place, she figured she'd be all set, even with juggling her university work and research study.

It took a couple of minutes to get the fire going and put the kettle on for some fresh mint green tea. Once she finished her first cup, she dialed her little brother's number.

"Finally, are you becoming such a loser that you're spending your Saturday at the library now?"

"It's called work, Mika. Something you'll learn soon enough."

"Yeah, of course, like I'm not living with a psychopath right now. She almost started ironing the bed sheets, Aji. We need an intervention here, immediately. Mom never cleans; she moved from Turkey because she couldn't stand spending her time cleaning. You need to convince her that you're fine."

"I am fine," Jiyan repeated for the thousandth time. "And Mom moved from Turkey because we're Kurds, and she wanted to avoid spending her time in jail for teaching her language in school."

"You're fine?" Mikael said incredulously. "You're living in the land of Mordor. It's been a week since you've seen any sun; I checked the weather!"

"It's not that bad. I'm starting to like the rain," Jiyan said, convincing no one. "And I like the job."

"Is that Aji?" she heard her mom in the background, stealing the phone from her brother.

"Aji, how are you?" her mother's worried voice asked.

"Hey Mom, I'm good. Mika told me you need an intervention."

"Your brother should be studying for his finals, focusing on his Latin test," Jiyan's mother said after a pause. "It's been weeks since we've heard from you, Jiyan."

Jiyan stared out of the window, feeling guilt and pressure rising in her chest.

"I'm sorry, Mom. It's just... I'm super busy with work and renovation here. I started building the kitchen from scratch, and most of the time, I forget to check my phone. I'm fine, really," she tried to reassure her.

"You're avoiding, little star, and today is a difficult day for you. You should be here, not alone on an island without sun," her mother insisted.

Jiyan really didn't want to have this conversation; she moved to this island to avoid this topic.

"It's all good, Mom. It's not a big deal," she said. "Also, I'm meeting new people; it's a good change," she added, feeling the lie stinging her tongue.

She heard her mom sigh. "I miss you, little star."

"I miss you too, Mom. Also, Mika, I need to go now. I'll call you next week."

"You do that, or I'm sending your brother there to check on you."

Jiyan chuckled and smiled. "We'll lose him at the first change of trains."

"Every battle has its losses."

Now really laughing, she closed the call. "Love you, Mom."

"Love you too, little star."

Jiyan put down her phone, staring again at the window. She knew she needed a distraction and couldn't spend the rest of the day inside alone. Not even building furniture could distract her today. 

She put on her jacket and boots, grabbed the keys, almost sprinting outside in the rain. 

Again.

Snap.

5 points.

Snap.

5 points.

Snap.

15 points.

Sighing disappointedly, Jiyan walked over to the dartboard to retrieve the darts. It had been two weeks since she discovered this pub near her place. The music was usually pretty good, and it could be a cozy spot during weeknights. It wasn't usually too crowded, which suited her just fine. She'd come in to have a soda and play darts, avoiding the regulars and the occasional group of tourists who tried to strike up a conversation.

She knew she stood out as a woman in a pub on a Saturday night, playing darts alone. That night, she had already dodged two American tourists who tried to flirt and offer to "teach her" how to play. 

On the other hand, the regulars, after giving her strange looks for the first couple of nights, now hardly noticed or bothered her, accepting the odd loner who didn't drink beer and spent hours throwing darts. Tonight, unfortunately, the pub was busier than usual, with some tourist groups disturbing her vibe.

Feeling a presence behind her, she tensed up immediately.

"Hey, baby, what are you drinking? Can I buy you the next round?"

Jiyan turned around to face a stranger who looked like the typical Chad character from any American high school drama.

"No thanks, I'm good," she replied shortly, turning back to focus on her game.

"Come on, I saw you looking at me. You were checking me out, I saw you."

"Excuse me?" she said, annoyed, not having a clue what he was talking about.

"Yeah, when you went to order your drink, you smiled. The guys and I are having a blast; you could come join us. I promise you a great night."

Jiyan took a deep breath, trying not to get too annoyed. "Listen, Chad, if that's even your name—I don't care. I'm not here to make friends or have a good time with your guys. I was having fun until 30 seconds ago when I didn't even know of your existence. Can we go back to that, please? Thanks, bro."

"My name's not Chad," he replied, irritated.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Jiyan said dismissively, hoping the conversation would end there, and she could get back to her new form of therapy: throwing darts.

Chad returned to his table muttering something about a "stupid bitch," but Jiyan didn't have the energy tonight to educate a stranger about basic respect and boundaries.

She took the last sip of her lemonade and headed to the bathroom, ordering another one from the bartender. When she returned, finding the new bottle of lemonade near the dartboard, she resumed her evening.

Cillian was onto his second pint when his attention wandered again to the peculiar woman in the far corner of the pub, throwing darts.

She seemed to be in her late 20s, sporting a hand-knit beanie that partially obscured her long dark hair. Her frame was small, drowned in a pair of jeans and an oversized dark hoodie. Each time she retrieved her darts from the board and turned around, Cillian found himself momentarily distracted from the conversation, captivated by her large green-leaf eyes.

Despite her efforts to blend in with her dull, oversized attire, every straight man in the pub couldn't help but notice her attractiveness.

Dermot, noticing Cillian's repeated glances, remarked, "She's new around here, lives in the area, spends her nights alone playing darts. Connor was annoyed the first night because she doesn't drink or eat, but apparently, she tips well, so we see her almost every night now."

Cillian raised an eyebrow at his friend. "Do you stalk all the newbies at the pub? Should I be worried? Should I give Connie a call?"

Dermot chuckled. "Like you didn't glance in her direction every five seconds. Just doing you a favor, pal."

Snorting, Cillian covered his blush with a sip from his pint. "I was just curious, and I wasn't staring at her the whole time."

"Sure, sure. Maybe we don't need to worry about you after all. You've been holed up in your basement for a month, and now look at you! You should go talk to her."

Cillian shook his head. "I'm gearing up for the new role, and it's been busy..."

Dermot glanced at his friend. "It's okay, you know, to try again? You're not a bad guy, and not all stories work out, mate."

Cillian looked down at his pint, taking another sip. He hadn't wanted to go out tonight and dwell on his last relationship. After a couple of weeks of seclusion, he was finally finding his balance. It wasn't that he missed her; they both knew the interest had faded months ago. They had reached a point where they were uncomfortable around each other and only ended up hurting one another.

He was just tired.

At 34, he was already questioning if this was it, his life—filled only with jobs he loved and relationships that would fill his life for a few months before inevitably ending.

Glancing up, he noticed a tourist from a nearby table approaching the young woman. Dermot and he said nothing for a moment, watching with interest. She appeared mostly annoyed and seemed to handle the situation well. After a brief exchange, she returned to her darts, and the guy slunk back to his table looking disgruntled.

Dermot chuckled after a sip from his pint, jesting, "Or maybe not the best idea, it looks like not even your piercing blue eyes would work this time."

Cillian snorted. "I think Enda would kill me if I showed up tomorrow with anything less than perfect condition. He owns me until the end of this play."

"Best not risk it, then."

They spent the next half-hour joking, with Dermot updating Cillian on Corinna and their new pregnancy. Cillian tried not to glance at the dartboard anymore, but he couldn't help but notice the American guy hurrying back to her corner after she ordered something from the bar, only to return to his table before she came back. Hopefully, he had finally realized she wasn't interested.

Around 11, they both decided to settle the bill and end their Saturday night.

Connor asked if everything was okay, and they both tipped him generously. It had taken some time for Cillian to find a place where no one cared about him or his career, and he didn't want to ruin it.

While Dermot quickly went to the restroom, Cillian cast one last glance at the dartboard, only to find the corner of the pub empty, with only her half-drunk bottle remaining.

Connor followed his gaze and grunted. "She forgot to pay, these damn tourists."

Surprised, Cillian looked at him. "I can cover her tab..."

"Why should you?" interrupted Connor, waving his hand dismissively. "She's here most nights; it will be covered, don't worry."

While waiting for Dermot, Cillian's eyes wandered to the American group's table, where they were laughing and shaking their heads conspiratorially. He noticed almost immediately that the persistent guy was missing and a bad feeling washed over him.

"Ready? Conie's going to kill me if I get home too late again, and maybe this time I can avoid sleeping on the couch," Dermot said, noticing Cillian's worried expression.

"What?" he asked Cillian.

Shaking his head, Cillian replied, "Nothing, let's go. Goodnight, Connor."

"Goodnight, lads."

Stepping outside, the cold, fresh air jolted Cillian awake. The street was quiet, unusually empty for a Saturday night. Glancing around before bidding farewell to Dermot, something caught his eye. In the corner of the street near the alley that led to the back of the pub, he noticed a jacket he recognized from inside. Dermot was saying something to him, but he wasn't paying attention, drawn closer to the alley where he found the guy from inside with his arms around an intoxicated young woman. She seemed unaware of what was happening and unable to stand on her own.

"Hey! What are you doing to her?" Cillian exclaimed, getting the guy's attention.

The guy jumped, almost letting the girl fall to the ground.

"Just helping her, man," he replied quickly. "Mind your business and go back inside."

Dermot, who had reached Cillian by then, also saw the scene unfolding before them. "What the fuck is happening here?"

The guy appeared more concerned now and, realizing Cillian wasn't alone, released the woman he was carrying, pushing past Cillian to leave the alley.

Cillian quickly moved closer, trying to catch her before she hit the ground. She now looked unconscious, and he gently laid her down, checking her vitals.

"What the fuck, man, this is so fucked up," Dermot said.

"Dermot, call 999. I'm not sure if she's breathing properly," Cillian said, alarmed. "Who knows what the fuck he gave her."

He wasn't paying attention to his friend but was focused on trying to make her a bit more comfortable. After a few moments of cradling her head, he noticed her scrunching her nose and grimacing. She opened her eyes, and Cillian found himself momentarily lost in them.

"Hey," he said softly as she stared at him. "It's going to be okay, alright? Just breathe; the ambulance is coming."

She didn't respond, just continued gazing at him with those beautiful green eyes, looking a little confused.

"It's going to be okay," he repeated, even softer this time. "I'm here. You're not alone. Just rest."

And she smiled, causing his heart to skip a beat, before closing those bright jade eyes once more.

Next | Masterlist

Thank you so much for taking the time to read. Your feedback, in any form, makes me happy. See you at the next one :)

amazing dividers from cafekitsune

[kitashousewife]

I don't know if this counts as a prompt but how about the "Only One Bed" trope with Hinata~?

nonnie this is perfect!! thank you sooooo much for the idea heehee i hope this turned out okay!

brazil!hinata, fluff, friends to lovers

-

hinata's bubbling with excitement all day long. through his morning shower, while he took out the garbage, during the practice games this afternoon, and the entirety of the evening, he's been giddy. riding the transit to the airport and dealing with the tense flow of travelers didn't phase him one bit.

now he stands in the airport holding a ridiculously large and vibrant sign with your name in massive letters, right above his head.

the two of you had planned this trip a little over three months ago. hinata had almost reached his two-year mark in brazil, and was getting ready to move home. he asked you to be his travel buddy, even offering to pay for your travel if you would be so kind to accompany him. you couldn't say no, of course, and made plans to fly to see your best friend.

you and hinata met when you were first years, both in the same elective classes. you've been inseparable ever since. you watched every game that you could, despite your own busy schedule. even while he's been gone, weekly facetimes and daily chats have kept you closer than ever.

you'd be lying if you said you weren't a little nervous, though.

over the past two years, you've watched hinata grow from a bouncy, excited teenager into a confident and strong man. he's honed his skills to perfection and it shows. you've seen the streams. you thought he was incredible in high school, but he's got to be the best volleyball player you've ever seen. it's amazing, and you're so proud.

but this confidence has affected more than just his performance.

hinata carries himself in a way that exudes confidence and pride. he's tan, dusted with freckles, and toned muscles that prove the hours of volleyball he's endured. he smiles often, a bright and toothy grin whenever he speaks. hinata is sure of himself. he knows who he is, speaking with a clear voice and tone.

which is much more attractive than you had thought.

you've found yourself thinking about him more, lingering thoughts of his happy grin that follow you throughout the day. you think about his pretty hair and how it shines in the sun during your morning commute. you think about his cheery voice and the nicknames he calls you on your lunch break.

and as you step off of the plane, those thoughts come to a screeching halt.

once off the terminal and into the building, you're hit with the heat of brazil. that combined with the disorientation of it all, you are a little overwhelmed. until a near fluorescent pink sign held up by tan, strong arms and an orange mop of hair catch your eye.

"sho!"

you run, carry on dragging behind you until you meet your best friend. hinata picks you up, squeezing you as tight as he can before setting you down.

"god, i'm so glad to see you. was the flight okay? did i get you good seats? were you able to sleep?"

hinata tucks the sign under his arm, picks your bag up for you, and leads you to the exit. you follow behind him with a laugh.

"yes, yes, and a little bit," you answer while the two of you wait in the shade of the large sign, being put to good use in the evening sun. "did you wait long?"

he shakes his head. "less than twenty minutes. but you know that i would've stayed all day for you."

as the bus pulls and the two of you find a seat, hinata can't sit still. he's been feeling the same way that you have, but he's been able to distract himself until now. the way you say his name feels special, something that he looks forward to on every call. he counts down the hours until your weekly facetimes, heart pounding in anticipation everytime the call rings through.

"so, what's on the agenda shoyo?"

thankfully, that snaps him out of his thoughts and back to you as you rest your hand on his knee to get him from bouncing it.

"sorry," he stills. "well, i figured we could grab something to eat at my place. i don't have any practice until tomorrow, so we can relax tonight and head to the beach tomorrow. i figured you would want to rest after flying all day."

you can't help but smile. years of beach photos and now it's finally your turn to run into those waves he gushes about every day.

"sounds perfect to me. after the house tour i'll change and we can relax."

hinata snorts. "can't wait to show you everything, it will take a whole two minutes!"

you push into his side with your shoulder, rolling your eyes. the bus slows to a stop and hinata stands up, nodding his head towards a set of apartment buildings.

"this is our stop," he sighs, grabbing your hand to lead you off of the bus and across the street. as soon as you are en route for the building, he lets go of your hand. a small wave of tension washes over the two of you, but you're quick to move on. the excitement of seeing your best friend after two years outweighs the newfound feelings.

"okay, first part of the tour," hinata mumbles as his fingers fuss with the lock on his door. he cheers to himself as he finally gets it open, and runs into the middle of the room.

"ta-da!" he puts his arms out and waves his hands. "here's...everything!"

it is quite small, but it's just what he needed. a small kitchen with a couple of bar stools, a large window with an AC unit, and a few photos taped to the fridge. a couple volleyballs sit in what must be the living room, along with his goggles and extra water bottles. he walks to a door adjacent to the front door and laughs.

"so that's my kitchen, obviously. and then this was my living room, but i already sold my couch and chairs,"

you stop walking and give him a confused stare.

"wait, you got rid of your couch? what am i going to-"

"here's my room. that's the bathroom," he points towards another door which is next to a large map of japan taped to the wall. the other walls are decorated as well, with photos of friends and family and other photos he enjoyed. some scenery from home, photos he snapped at the beach, and some volleyball posters as well. hinata scratches his head. "i know it's pretty small, but i didn't need much. but, if you need towels they're in here, and-"

"shoyo."

"the AC unit is perfect, too. if you need it turned up just let me know-"

"shoyo."

he stops finally, hand reached towards his small closet door when he turns to you.

"what's up?"

"you got rid of your couch?"

he laughs, flopping onto his bed. "yeah! two days ago. it was a pain in the ass to get down the stairs," he shakes his head, remembering how ridiculous the whole thing was.

"why did you do that?"

now he returns your confused look. tilting his head to the side, he looks at you. your arms are folded across your chest, your boarding passes still in your hand from earlier. a habit you clearly haven't let go of.

"what do you mean? i'm moving home next week, and i can't take it with me."

"shoyo, i was going to sleep on the couch."

hinata's smile falters slightly as the realization sets in. you're right, he was going to sell it the day before the two of you left. the busyness of the past few days caused that to slip his mind, selling it to his downstairs neighbor.

he swallows. normally, this wouldn't be a huge deal. the two of you have had tons of sleepovers before. but something is different now. something that he doesn't want to ruin.

"you can take my bed. i can just sleep on the floor, i don't mind at all!"

you shake your head, shuffling to join him on the bed. "it's your bed, sho. i'm not going to do that to you!"

"you're my guest, what sort of host would i be to make you sleep on the floor? c'mon, it's my fault i sold the couch to begin with. you can take the bed, i promise."

you play with your fingers for a moment, deciding what you're going to say for a bit.

"we could share," you suggest, voice quiet. when you look up at him, hinata's cheeks are dusted pink. he clears his throat.

"i-if you're okay with it, of course."

you nod. "i don't mind. it would keep us both comfortable."

hinata nods, hoping you don't hear the pounding of his heart in his chest. honestly, he would like nothing more than to keep you close. many nights, especially over the last few months, he's awake with thoughts of holding you, keeping you tight to him as you count the stars.

"well, i'll start dinner. feel free to shower, change, whatever you want."

"is that your way of telling me that i stink?"

hinata laughs out loud, throwing his extra pillow toward you before heading to the kitchen. god, he missed you. he missed your wit, your laugh, and the way your nose scrunches when he tells a bad joke. he missed everything about you, but he can't find the words to tell you.

the two of you spend the night playing cards on his living room floor, sharing stories of silly things that occurred over the last few weeks. hinata showed you a few photos he took a couple days ago, and laughed as he retold the stories behind them. before you knew it, it was almost 2:30 am, which meant it was time to go to bed.

the two of you had been putting it off as long as possible. but, with the way you rest your head in your hands between games, hinata knows it's time.

"i have extra blankets in the closet if you need them," he points from the bathroom, toothbrush hanging from his lips. you nod, moving your things out of your suitcase to keep busy. you're hoping to distract yourself as much as you can. "i'm going to shower really quick, but make yourself comfortable. i'll keep quiet," he closes the door all but a crack, the warm light escaping onto the bed like a spotlight.

you do as he says, getting comfortable underneath the blankets as far to the side as possible. as soon as your head hits the pillow, you begin to fall under. hinata's warm scent envelopes you and you feel safe, the hours of travel finally catching up to you as you shut your eyes.

you're not sure how long it's been before hinata joins you, sliding into bed as carefully as he can. he lies on his back for a while, trying to decide if he should hold you or keep his distance. the smell of his body wash causes you to stir a little, and without thinking hinata pulls your back to his chest.

you hum, very groggily as you feel the warmth of his bare skin on you. after a moment your eyes snap open as you realize the situation.

"i didn't mean to wake you, i'm sorry," he whispers, voice close to your ear in the position the two of you are in.

"it's okay," you breathe, scared if you move that he will push away.

a few minutes pass, the two of you unmoving and listening to the sounds of your rapid heartbeats, slowly beginning to beat as one.

"i'm sorry about the couch," hinata whispers once more, voice raspy with sleep. "but i like having you close."

your lips part slightly at the confession. your mind is swimming, shocked at the fact that he feels the same. you start to speak, but nothing comes out. instead, you reach for his hand with yours, softly pulling it wraps around you in wordless accord. hinata pulls you closer, a silent reassurance that he feels the same.

"goodnight, shoyo," you sigh, leaning back into his chest. shakily, he leans forward to place a kiss on the back of your head.

"goodnight," he says into the night. the two of you drift off to sleep, feelings pushed aside for the time being. for now, hinata finally holds you close, and falls asleep with a smile.