#i was going to make a sequel-ish to your idea

[teecupangel]

Submitted by @saberamane

Teecup….I have a new need that I must share.

Modern AU with Desmond and Clay as  BFF’s who do stupid shit. I’m thinking the pairing is AltDesEzi, and one day Altair and Ezio come home and hear some suspicious sounds coming from the bedroom.

Desmond said Clay was coming over…

They slam the door open, thinking they’re going to catch…something going on, already feeling mad and heartbroken…

Only to find Desmond with a controller in hand, and Clay screaming on the bed.

Desmond bought a ‘birthing simulator’, and Clay is not having a good time.

Desmond is having a fantastic time.

And they can tell, by the evil gleam in his big doe eyes, he’s going to try and put it on one of them next…

https://www.facebook.com/reel/812293810659990

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Additions by teecup:

Desmond Miles was a strange man.

Born as the sheltered home-schooled son of William Miles, there were a lot of things he didn’t know. Ezio had only seen him a few times growing up. He always followed his father during those times and he could count with one hand how many times he had actually conversed with the sole child of the Miles.

His father had requested him to look after Desmond when they learned they were going to the same college. He figured it wouldn’t be too much of a hassle, considering how quiet Desmond Miles was.

Then college started and Ezio realized that Desmond was a magnet for trouble.

Trouble number one was Alta��r Ibn-La'Ahad.

Okay, he and Altaïr had some kind of childish rivalry going on since they were in the same boarding school. It didn’t matter that Altaïr was a year older than him (and Desmond), they would always find a way to compete.

Sports.

Academic.

Extra-curricular activities.

It always felt like he was racing to catch up to Altaïr and pass him.

And every time he felt like he already did, Altaïr would be hot on his heels and already running pass him like it was the natural state of the world.

Federico once heard him complain about it and simply laughed it off.

Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad was the heir of Masyaf Corporations. Their banks deal with them regularly. If anything, Ezio was supposed to be kissing up to him.

Ezio refused and…

As they say, the rest was history.

Getting close to Desmond had been easy.

Learning that Desmond chose the same college as Ezio because Altaïr was studying there was annoying.

Learning Altaïr and Desmond were childhood friends, bordering on childhood sweetheart (if one could even imagine Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad having a sweetheart) made Ezio rethink his entire friendship with Desmond.

And then…

Things happened, feelings evolved, college was the time to experiment and learn one’s self and oh boy, did Ezio learn a lot.

He and Altaïr still can’t get along all that well but they manage to be cordial for Desmond’s sake.

They both entered a relationship with Desmond knowing about each other.

Their rivalry hit that stage where they are both trying to make Desmond happy while also half-trying to one up the other.

They graduate and started living together and then…

Trouble number two became Desmond’s roommate.

Look.

Ezio and Altaïr had both wanted Desmond to live with them.

Unfortunately, Altaïr and Ezio didn’t want to live with each other and Desmond thought it would be unfair if he was to live with either of them sooooo…

Desmond found an apartment and got a roommate.

Desmond worked as a bartender for some reason, his bio-engineering diploma gaining dust in the darkest part of his closet.

He did tell them that his mother told him he could join their research and development team any time he wanted but Desmond didn’t really want to.

Oh, it wasn’t because of nepotism. Desmond had no qualms with that.

“Aunt Juno’s a bitch to work with. I intern in their company, remember?”

So yeah, Desmond was willing to just let his college degree whither and die while working as a bartender.

Hence the need for a roommate to keep up with the bills (any offer to give him money for his bills were rejected but he allowed his boyfriends to treat him to food, gifts and homemade meals)

Clay Kaczmarek was chaos reincarnate.

He was a computer engineering graduate who freelances for the highest bidder.

Ezio was pretty sure said highest bidders were more on the side of ‘fuck capitalism’ but it wasn’t his place to judge as a child of old money.

Altaïr knew of him and that was saying a lot as Masyaf Corporations held more pies in the darker part of society that was considered a ‘gray area’ than most companies.

Clay was a good man.

But he was the worst enabler in Desmond’s small circle of friends and the two of them loses most of their braincells when they were together.

They get the dumbest ideas and follow through with them.

It was like they were both making up for Desmond’s quiet ‘obedient’ life as a child and then going one step further.

They’ve never been arrested though and Altaïr or Ezio never had to bail them out but, my god, they never get a head’s up whenever something stupid was about to happen.

So the two of them getting a birthing simulator?

Ezio was pretty sure it was because one of Desmond’s coworker was pregnant and that probably led to the two of them talking about pregnancy and what it would feel like.

Seeing Desmond smile at them sweetly but not bothering to cover up the evil gleam in his eyes…

Ezio was too in love with him to say no even as Clay’s pained screams continued because Desmond has yet to turn off the device in his hands.

So he simply patted Altaïr’s shoulder and grimly said…

“Rock, paper, scissors, best of three.”

[ohimsummer]

ANYTHING YOU CAN DO...

— minors dni, suguru x fem! reader (+ implied satoru x reader), virgin! reader, gojo and geto are fighting over you lol, suggestive/smut?, biting, hickeys, some dryhumping, reader is a sensitive little virgin and came in their panties, everyone is around 21-ish

the sequel: …i can do better

Having the attention of the Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto is both a blessing and a curse.

It’s overwhelming sometimes the way they tag-team making you increasingly flustered; Suguru dropping blatant hints with that silky smooth voice of his, cascading through your ears like warm, melted caramel. And then Satoru, who can never keep his hands to himself and leaves frisky, fleeting touches on any unprotected part of your body. You’ve since realized it’s such a bad (albeit tantalizing) idea to wear those cute little camis that hug your figure so nice or, God forbid, those fuzzy, blue, cotton shorts just asking for him to pinch at the exposed skin of your thighs and ass hanging out the bottom.

The way they’d compete for your affections (even though you had more than enough to go around) was both humorous and also troublesome for your willpower. How many times would they trap you between their bodies, wandering hands creeping beneath your clothes to pinch and rub at anything they could reach because they were just so, so fucking obsessed with the way you squeal and whine when they do. And the way you can’t contain all your low, desperate moans but continue to pray that their continuous spat will drown it out. They both tug at you from either side, until sometimes Satoru will just yank you by the waist into his lap and now Suguru has to gently spread your legs and scoot closer, hooking one around his waist and caressing the other laid upon his lap. And now you’re stuttering an excuse to escape inside your room with extraordinarily soaked panties and an agonizing ache between your thighs. The two were idiots but they’re far from dumb, and you mentally curse both Geto and Gojo for playing games with your pussy the way they were.

So, yeah, though they’re both terribly awful in their own way, you think Suguru is worse than his best friend. Satoru would pin you to the wall with your wrists above your head, pull you into his embrace and kiss your temples, all because he was so blatantly obsessed with you, yes, but also just to spite Geto who would always be sitting nearby. But Suguru, Suguru was far worse. It was like he made a mission out of toying with Gojo through you. Geto gets to amuse himself with a pissed off Satoru, and he gets to privately indulge in you. Like right now.

“Sug–uru..!”, you cry into his hair, arching into his chest and pussy throbbing against the thigh tucked between your legs. It's embarrassing how just the slow drags of his tongue over your neck and collar is enough to get you riled up like this.

He hums in response but never halts his movements. Teeth graze along your skin as Geto searches for that perfect spot to leave his claim on you, all the while peppering soft kisses in his wake. One hand pulls you harder against his tense thigh, slowly massaging your sobbing cunt against his leg, while the other has a solid grip on the back of your neck. It’s taking everything in him not to fuck you right then and there, especially when you sigh so prettily and whimper Suguru’s name into his ear like it’s the only thing you know. So stunning and so needy when he gives you the slightest touch and your pussy leaves a growing stain on his dark sweats.

"Mmph, g-god-! Su- Suguru-, ah—!"

Your voice comes out a jumble of moans and whines as teeth finally sink into your skin, followed by a harsh suck along your neck. Your grip will be sure to leave those crescent marks in Geto’s shoulder blades, even through his shirt. Quivering legs squeeze around Suguru's thigh, and you feel like such a dumb dog humping his leg so hopelessly the way you are. You've only ever been touched like this in your dreams, and it feels a million times better when it's by someone like Suguru. His steady movements don’t reveal the way he’s almost falling apart at the seams. You can’t tell in your drunken haze, but if you paid the slightest bit more attention, you’d feel the solid outline of his weeping cock against your leg.

His motions remain soothing and calm, like Geto had this all planned out for ages and knows exactly what he's doing. He’d like to chalk it up to just being a pro, but really it’s because all these lewd gestures are so new to your body. You're obviously inexperienced and his touch is like a gradual, warm fire trailing over your skin; it leaves you so excited and craving for something, anything more from him.

Suguru pulls back to admire his handywork: a nice dark blemish on the sweet spot of your neck that would surely be a prominent display (unless you planned on rousing Gojo's suspicion further and wearing winter clothes in the blistering summer heat), the shivering of your limp limbs because no doubt you just came in your panties, and that adorable, blissful look on your face. He can see the faintest of perspiration forming on your skin. Eyes squeezed shut, nipples erect beneath your top, and panting like you’ve just been fucked senseless.

Suguru chuckles at the sight. Aren’t you cute? He can't wait to have his way with you, really give you something to lose your breath over.

[fae-of-prey]

what's your favorite scary movie? ༊*･

an all hallows eve spooktacular collab with my beloved moot victoria aka the lovely @rafesangelita ! check out the prompt i gave her here!

warnings: (remember, you are the only one responsible for your own media consumption, so if you don’t like it please just scroll!) smut MDNI ¹⁸⁺!; mutual(ish) intox; knives; blood; corruption; blink-&-you’ll-miss-it dacryphilia if you squint; a dash of size kink for good measure; sex tapes; binding rituals; “kid” pet name

camera flashes and your drunken giggles fill rafe’s bedroom as he snaps pictures of you, with your angel wings all askew from the way rafe had to manhandle your lightweight safely into his truck after a friend’s halloween party (not that you ever minded your boyfriends big strong hands on you).

click then flash 📸

“look at me babydoll” he cradles your face in the hand that isn’t holding the camera as you lean into him, practically purring and looking up at him with those big doe eyes he loves to capture on camera “there you go” another flash “good girl, aren’t you just fuckin adorable” more laughs follow as he leans down to give you kisses that get sloppier by the second in your drunken daze. 

your arms wrap around rafe’s neck while his hand moves from your face down your body to your waist to start grabbing at your hips, leaving you mewling in his grasp until he guides you to lay down instead and his hands travel upwards again, this time under your top to grope you. and when the feeling tickles your skin, you giggle deliriously once more.

it’s all very messy, the way rafe’s kisses hungrily trail from your lips, to your neck, all the way down to your chest to meet where he’s now pushed your top up to reveal your breasts; more skin for him to mark up. he isn’t even fully conscious of what he’s doing, it’s purely instinctual in his state of still halfway inebriated to almost sobered up, until he comes back up to behold your whining form once again and notices his purple marks blooming beautifully all across the skin of your torso (he even got down to your stomach in his trance).

you pout at the sight “rafeyyy“ but to him it’s a sight so beautiful he has to take a picture, so rafe picks up the camera again as he tsks affectionately “oh c’mon quit your whining kid, now why don’t cha hold ‘em together f’me?” still, ever his amenable little angel, you obey so he can get your picture.

📸 when the camera flashes again you can see an idea flash across rafe’s eyes as well, but before you can even notice it, he’s leaning down to kiss you again while the camera flashes more and more, not that you notice that either.

rafe breaks away to set the camera down next to you, with the lens facing you perfectly centered in the frame and caged beneath your boyfriend, as he turns back to you and rasps “why don’t we make our own scary movie?” an adorably tipsy smile spreads across your face cradled by his hands “i dunno, do i get to be in the sequel?” you slur bubbly making him grin “yeah… you’re my final girl, isn’t that right?” you nod with giggles.

• the fun might’ve been cut short by concern over the knife rafe pulls out from his nightstand if you were anyone else of sober mind, but honestly you’re mostly just curious about “what’s that for?” not even really all that concerned through your high daze.

“oh uh,” your eyes follow the buck 120 like a kitten as rafe just brings it to your chin gently guiding your gaze towards the camera now recording video with the little red light on while his eyes stay locked on you “don’t worry kid, it’s for our movie, yeah?” you nod with wide almost hypnotized eyes.

rafe holds the camera again to capture how he soothes the cold steel of the blade back down against your thigh before dragging the flat side up nice and smooth to hook under your bottoms.

with the sharp end pointed outwards, he slices right through both layers of your bottoms and panties, much to your dismay, though he quickly coos to shush you in between chuckles at your adorable little whines that make his dick ache “i’ll getcha new ones”

still you briefly mourn the flouncy white tatters now scattered on the bedroom floor; even if it’s quickly forgotten about the second rafe kisses your pout away in your drunkenly lost sense of object permanence and shortened attention span (shortened even more by your restless carnal impatience) as he places the camera back on the side of the bed next to you.

but soon rafe’s rushing to unzip his own pants to free himself, and guiding your hand with his own to wrap around his aching cock. rafe groans softly — lord you always feel like fucking heaven, even the smallest of your touches never fail to make him feel like no one and nothing else can (not even himself). he moves your hand up and down his shaft a few more times before rubbing the head against your weeping clit to soothe that itching sense of anticipation you‘re both growing increasingly impatient with. the foreplay is only momentarily relieving before you’re craving more — despite your inexperienced naïveté you were always an eager little one, even before rafe took your virginity not too long ago, but all that tequila just makes you that much more of an insatiable nymphomaniac at rafe’s mercy. until finally he pushes into your sweet cunt with his hands fully encircling your waist.

rafe lets out a drawn out “fuck” under his heavy breath — you were always so warm and inviting, he only makes it about a third of the way in your soft velvety walls inch-by-inch before he bottoms out completely when the overwhelming rush of pure desperate lust becomes too much to bear, leaving a bulge in your stomach to show for it while you huff and cry out whiny slurred mewls “shh you’re okay kid, jus relax huh? just like i taught ya” rafe picks up the camera again to zoom in on your tummy bulging with him deep inside your guts, before he smears a kiss to your dampened cheeks as your eyes gloss over on camera “don’t you wanna be my good girl?” you can take it, you're his precious angel in more ways than just your halloween costume, you can always take what he gives you. and rafe’s reassurance of such along with the lingering intoxication softens the blow enough to twist into pleasure.

after your breathing slows to a more normal speed, when he senses you’ve (somewhat semi-forcibly) reacclimated enough he drags back out, slower (and much more careful) this time. he’s just absolutely mesmerized by the way he can literally see himself pulling out through the bulge in your stomach slowly vanishing, it just sends all the more blood rushing straight to his dick.

“there you go, good girl” rafe soothes with a hand cradling your cheek while his other focuses the camera on you and a heavy breath when he’s only left the tip being squeezed in by your tight grip, even at your entrance and you already feel simultaneously empty and like you can barely take just the tip all at once. 

rafe takes a breath and gives you a chance to catch yours before starting to slowly push back in again — it’s a snug fit but you both make it work with sheer force of will and strength “nice ‘n easy kid, here” rafe wraps his arms around your waist to hold you to him while he sits up and against the headboard of his bed now as he sets the camera on the nightstand, careful to keep you in frame.

with you pulled onto his lap and his hands encircled around your waist again, he slowly sinks you down onto him while you hold onto his arms for dear life; gripping so hard your nails might be digging into him, but if so he never even lets it show.

you huff out a breath of relief when he’s all the way in again, you always feel so ineffably content when you’re so impossibly full like this; just the rushing amorous twist of passionate pleasure is hypnotic. but it’s moments like these when you feel the closest to rafe, like your souls are melting into each other. it even feels a little dangerous, in moments like this there’s not a thing on this earth rafe cameron wouldn’t fucking do for you, nothing he wouldn’t let you do to him, his adoration turned feral and (even more) obsessive, his attachment strengthened with a deep coveted need to keep you with him forever, and he feels it with a particularly significant intensity tonight as he groans under his breath again “fuck yu’re g’na be the fuckin’ death of me babydoll, you know that?” making a roguish smile spread across your face and a giggle escape your lips.

rafe brings his hand up to cup your face as you look up at him with those fucking big wide eyes he adores so much it hurts “you trust me, right angel?” his heart actually aches at how quickly you nod without hesitation, without even thinking first. his lips twitch upwards at the thought, you’re truly completely his, just as he is yours. and now it’s time to prove it.

“then i need you to do somethin for me” he reaches for your wrist to open your palm and close it again on the handle of the knife he’s placed in it, then ever so carefully tilts it up so the blade is now facing his open palm.

“here, just need a little cut, okay?” even with your keen zeal to be his good girl, of course you’re still hesitant at the thought of potentially hurting him! so sensing you need a little extra push, rafe digs the blade further into his own palm until enough blood is drawn, while still holding your hand to stay wrapped around the handle with his other hand.

you gasp softly with your eyes locked on the sight but he doesn’t even flinch, not even when he removes his hand from the blade to take the knife from your pliable little fingers or when he then takes your hand in his to position the blade on your palm. rafe’s much more nimble with you, making as small of a cut into your soft tender flesh as possible to draw blood and just as quickly soothing the sting it brings with gentle shushing coos and a sweet kiss to your temple as a high pitched wince falls from your lips.

with heavy breathing rafe sets the knife down next to the camera still recording on the nightstand, you’re breathing just as heavy as your eyes are still transfixed by the open wounds you both now carry while he brings his large hand to hold your smaller one and presses your wounds together hard, mixing your blood in the unspoken ritualistic process and binding you together forever. 

the slight sting is instantaneously worth pleasing that deep primal craving for intimacy — and suddenly, you can’t get enough of it. every sensation just melts together to mix into something addictive enough to turn you into a bloodthirsty little animal.

finally he kisses you again as a wave of gratification washes over rafe. your hands squeeze together as you continue kissing — it’s sloppy and desperate on both ends, almost  like you’re trying to eat the other whole with muffled moans.

rafe wraps his other arm around your waist to guide you down on your back again, never even breaking from each other once the whole time either, your joined hands still squeezing together as hard as ever right beside your head. with your legs wrapping around his frame which is eclipsing yours now and his hand on your waist, rafe thrusts into you again more purposefully this time, and with less mercy. the feeling sends you straight to heaven, leaving the pain to twist into pleasure and you to helplessly grab onto his muscly arm with one hand as you squeeze his hand still locked with yours like a girl getting a shot at the doctor’s in the other.

“all mine huh? forever. isn’t that right angel?” you nod fervently “on-only yours, always” you squeal softly — though you sound like you’re being fucking murdered (if these noises were coming from anywhere else the cops would’ve been at your door before you even got to cum, but anyone nearby who might’ve heard strange and violent sounds coming from a cameron’s house in the middle of the night would simply mind their business), a low feral growl falls from under rafe’s breath before his mouth on yours again grounds you. 

each blow feels even more sensitive than the last, your hand drops onto your stomach where you feel rafe actively rearranging your guts. your heart is thumping like a little rabbit, he’s getting sloppier, more desperate, but goddamn he never wants this to end, and neither do you.

it only takes a few more of those desperately craving thrusts before you’re squeezing and pulsing around him as your orgasm rushes through you. halfway through it drives rafe to the edge too, he staggers a few more thrusts as deep and hard as humanly possible, sure to fuck himself deep in your guts when he finally paints your velvety insides white with his spurting cum.

after your heaving chest calms down and rafe stills inside you both just lay like that, soaking in the orgasms washing over you and the feeling of rafe and his cum deep in your guts. your hearts beat back to normal when you catch your breath. eventually rafe pulls himself up off you, you whine sleepily as he groans a sighing heavy drawn out “aww fuck” when he holds your waist for leverage to pull out of your plush walls which cling onto him, almost just begging him to stay.

already you miss the fullness only provided by rafe, your only consolation is his cum slowly seeping inside you while he switches the camera off before leaving the room to clean up. you’re drifting off when rafe comes back with a bandaid, which he tosses on his nightstand while he grabs a t-shirt for you “hey, c’mon kid get up” he taps your knee so you sit up for him, taking off what’s left of your costume and briefly leaving you bare before rafe pulls his shirt back over your head “there ya go, now go pee, hurry up” he orders softly and pats your ass as you sleepily get out of bed and scurry off to the bathroom.

you’re promptly pulled into rafe’s lap when you return to his bed; you curl up into him while he takes the bandaid out of the wrapper. you wince faintly when he takes your hand to carefully smooth the bandage over your wound “i know baby i know” rafe smears two kisses in quick succession to your hairline then simply holds your hand in his after he’s done patching it up. 

“did so good for me babydoll, so fuckin’ proud of you” your nose reflexively scrunches from the familiar warmth of sunshine blooming within you. it’s strange, the sex tape you’ve just made is likely the only thing as hard proof that could ever convince anyone else who’s ever met him that rafe cameron can genuinely care for someone, that he can be gentle, that he has a heart, albeit one that beats just for you and no one else.

your yawning shortly prompts rafe to lay you both down and flick the light off, and sure enough you swiftly fall into a purring slumber almost instantly. the corners of rafe’s mouth turn up ever so slightly at the sight — you’re all his, forever. there’s no going back now, and there’s absolutely no escaping. with one more kiss to your pretty little head he whispers “happy halloween angel”

© FAE-OF-PREY 2024

[randomshyperson]

As It Was (Part 2) - Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Once the truth is out, will you be able to forget and forgive the past, or the weight of choices be heavier than the feelings you and Wanda never learned to outgrow? | The Second Part is more based on "Satellite" than "As It Was" tbh. | Part One

Warnings: angst(ish) with happy ending, milf!Wanda, age gap, ex-lovers meeting again, witchcraft lore, some making out but nothing explicit in this part | Words: 6.552k

A/N-> At the request of many, I managed to write a sequel to that one "As It Was". It was much longer than I expected, but I managed to write things that I hadn't done before, so the result pleased me. Forgive me for the lack of smut, it ended up not fitting within the context and rhythm of the story, but there is the possibility of specials. I hope you all enjoy your reading.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Song-Based Collection

-&-

It occurs to her that you are distant.

Physically speaking, it's quite evident - Wanda hasn't seen you for five days. Not even on her secret getaways from family dinners, school reunions, or anything typical of an American suburban mom's routine so perfectly set up for herself, brings you back. You don't visit her on any of the days that follow, not for lunches or late afternoons, nor do you send either quick or long messages made up of intense declarations that always shake her with all the emotions she might have.

Wanda has no idea where you are, and the lack of control over the situation almost suffocates her. 

But there is something new that occupies her enough not to take action on it. Or rather, someone new.

It's true that time passes differently in Westview. The leaves are starting to turn orange when Pietro Maximoff arrives on her balcony. Wanda is trying to find her footing with so many ghosts from the past coming back at once and she has to admit that her twin brother's presence impacts her enough for her not to escape her house and family in an attempt to find out if you were still in the same motel where she left you in the early hours of one morning almost a week ago.

Wanda tries to focus on the good things in life; she has the family she always dreamed about, complete at last. A husband, children, and even her long-missed brother. She has friends and a house. She should feel happy and fulfilled, or so she tries to convince herself while she tries to ignore the not-so-easy feeling in her chest when she lies next to Vision at night.

He doesn't mind that she's distant herself. Sometimes, Wanda thinks he doesn't even notice. Maybe it's her will, playing with everything around her and ensuring she's not disturbed. In fact, Vision has stopped noticing many things since the last heated argument they had, on the same night that Pietro reappeared. He's just as distant as she is as if he has a whole life going on outside those walls. Wanda could say the same.

She falls asleep with difficulty, and it’s one of those nightmare nights once more. 

When she opens her eyes, she knows she’s still dreaming.

Nevertheless, she allows herself to fall into that fantasy with peace of mind.

The atmosphere is familiar, and the smells and sensations too. Wanda remembers well how things were before Hydra, and before the outbreak of civil war in her country. In the few years of tranquillity at the end of her adolescence, where the revolution group was almost a pastime for irritated young people, for a moment, she could imagine herself as nothing more than a schoolgirl.

Of course, the war would get worse, and almost the entire group of her former colleagues would leave the universities to occupy the streets, but in the safety of the dream, none of this would happen.

Wanda could leave the soft bed and follow the smell of food. She knew she would find you in the kitchen, moving your hips softly to a gentle melody because this was a memory Wanda had never learned to erase.

Her voice came out raspier than she expected once she tried to call your name. But luckily, you were distracted enough by the food to notice the tears welling up in her eyes. After a whole week without hearing from you, she truly believes she lost you once more.

But in this dream, things were saved. Your hands just continued to separate the mixture. “Morning, krasotka (gorgeous). Sit down, there's coffee on the table."

Wanda swallowed, controlling her temper. She watched your back for a moment, trying to memorize every feature of that appearance in case this was the last time and she wouldn’t have another chance before that fantasy ended.

When she didn't sit down you looked at her, offering her an easy smile from a face marked with flour and youthfulness.

"What's wrong, Wanda?"

She moves instead of answering, determined steps until she reaches you at the counter. Your confused eyes close as Wanda, who has just grabbed your belt, pulls you close and kisses you firmly.

It takes you by surprise, but you respond without hesitation. The position isn't ideal, but you kiss her eagerly, as breathless as she is once she breaks the act. Wanda's tight grip around you makes you chuckle softly.

"Hey, Pietro will wake up soon." You warned in the same casual tone, rubbing your nose against hers. "He'll kill me if he finds out about us like this..." Your mouth pecks down her jaw to her neck. 

Wanda giggles tearfully. She had forgotten about that. The teenage fear of telling her protective twin about you. Thinking back at how obvious you two were, she was sure that Pietro knew. To be fair, anyone could notice the way you looked at each other.

You tried to pull away, but Wanda didn't allow it. A sigh escaped your lips, which formed a mischievous smile.

"Behave yourself, Wanda." You warned softly, but she raised her hand to your cheek, the touch surprising you a little. Your curious expression didn't intimidate her.

"Where are you?" She questioned and curiosity gave way to confusion.

"Here, dorogoya, what do you mean-" But green irises turned red, and the confusion vanished once your eyes reflected her magic as well. Your shoulders tensed, and you sighed as if you were tired. 

You tried to pull away and this time, Wanda allowed you to. Your hands reached for a cloth, and the flour from her favorite pastry that you had prepared for her in that memory was leisurely wiped from your skin.

When you sighed again, more calmly you were leaning on the counter, with your arms crossed and your gaze distant.

"That's different." That was the first thing you said, with a small smile at the corner of your lips. Wanda swallowed, pushing her emotions down. She looked in the same direction as you next. "The sofa was dark blue, not brown."

"Some things..." She cleared her throat, trying to hide the urge to cry. "We remember it differently. Some things, they're just... different."

You hum thoughtfully, shrugging. "Yeah, like ourselves."

Wanda fiddles with her fingers. "Y/N..."

"I wasn't afraid to tell Pietro." You cut her off with no emotion in your voice, but seriousness in your gaze. "You were. I was always ready to shout out to the world that I loved you, but you were terrified of his reaction. Why did you change that?"

"I didn't." Wanda fights back immediately, defensive. You look away with a dry laugh, and she sighs. "I didn't do it on purpose. I... It's only been a long time, Y/N. It's hard to remember exactly what it was like."

"I heard that grief changes things." You retort more softly, and Wanda is sure she's going to start crying. She hugs her own body, and you sigh. "When..."

"No." She cuts you off, her voice breaking. "Why can't you just give me this day? This memory? Just... stay here. Let me live it again." She practically begs, but you don’t flinch, stepping away for the kitchen counter to move closer.

Your hands hold her arms, and your gaze makes something in her spark.

"Don't you think you deserve more than a fantasy, Wanda?"

She chuckles tearfully because this has to be a joke. 

"And what choice do I have?" she retorts, tears running down her cheeks. Wanda doesn't have the opportunity to wipe them away, you do so almost immediately. Your instinct is as quick as hers to lean into your touch. "God, there isn't... a day that I haven't missed this. Us."

You smile tenderly at her confession, and Wanda closes her eyes for a moment. She’s just enjoying the feeling while you wait. It takes another sigh for her to ask: "Where are you?"

Being asked again doesn't surprise you. You caress her cheek, and your other hand entwines around her waist.

"It doesn't matter."

She sighs impatiently. "Of course, it matters!" She insists. "I want-I need to see you." She corrects herself and you frown slightly. Wanda lets her hands grasp the collar of your blouse, and her red eyes are almost desperate in yours. "Tell me. Please. Where-"

You kiss her, hard enough for the protest to turn into a needy moan. The hand around her entwines her completely to lift her onto the counter, and Wanda melts. She kisses you as she manages, almost overwhelmed by the longing she has felt over the last few days for the sensation of your lips again.

When you part, she's tingly all over, but your hands don't go beyond her clothes. Your affected breath hits her cheek before you look at her again.

"I remembered."

Wanda almost breaks down in a sob but she manages to keep her emotions around her border. With a sniffle, she guides pleading eyes to yours. Her legs tighten around your waist as if she fears your escape.

"Please stay with me." It comes in a whisper.

You chuckle and Wanda can feel her cheeks burning, her heart breaking. She fears your answer more than she's ever feared anything else in her life.

"You don't understand, Wanda." That's what you say, pulling away and grabbing her hands. Before she can despair, imagining that you were pushing her away, your hands entwined with hers, your eyes tender and intense. "Tell me what you remember."

She looks at you with confusion before denying it with her head. "I don't like... thinking about that day."

"I know, but I need to talk about it." You say, kissing her hands for a moment. "I'm not a memory, Wanda. I'm here. I really am here."

But she shakes her head, her shoulders tensing and her breathing going out of rhythm. "My mind is playing tricks on me... First you, and now Pietro. None of it makes sense. The only thing I know is that I don't want to lose you again. Please don't leave me again."

She doesn't even realize she's started crying. You hug her, trying to calm her down with pats on her back as she wets her shirt. 

Wanda clings to you as if you're going to disappear, but you stay there until the tears dry.

"I'm not going anywhere, I promise." You whisper. "Never again, Wanda. I can't change what happened to Pietro, but I'm staying. Screw the consequences, I'll never leave you alone again."

She looks at you with confusion, wiping her wet face with the hem of her blouse. " What consequences- what you talking about?"

But you smile, kissing her cheek quickly. "It's time to wake up, my love. Meet me when you're ready to leave. I'm waiting outside for you."

Wanda tries to grab you by the blouse, but she wakes up in a jolt. Vision complains low in bed so that she stops making so much noise and Wanda hides her tears in her pillow.

She dares to try to search for your presence around the house, every floor, every room but all there is is Vision and her twins.

Her mind is playing tricks on her. A stupid dream just to try to break the perfect life she has now.

She goes back to sleep and makes sure that she won’t dream of anything else.

-&-

It's not the ideal place or your favorite setting, nor does it have the best food, but the dinner is the closest outside the Hex that you could find, so it's enough.

The back table becomes the mystery traveler's spot (that's how you hear the waitress and some truck drivers refer to you) for the next few days.

It takes almost two for Agatha to show up.

"You're late, witch." That's how you greet her, outside in the parking lot. The cigarette is hanging unlit from your lips, and Agatha snatches it from your mouth before you have a chance to light it. Your relaxed posture breaks, and she hits you over the head with a slap.

"Insolent child! Irresponsible! Arrogant-" You let her hit three more, they don't hurt, and it's good for her anger. The next time she's about to swear at you for something else, you hit her first. 

"Get a grip, you grumpy old woman." You snap. " Don't cause a scene, huh?"

Agatha raises a finger in warning, her eyes blazing with fury before she walks away with an annoyed grunt. 

"You're unbelievable." She retorts, taking up your personal space again. She pulls a box of cigarettes out of your leather jacket pocket and takes one for herself. You roll your eyes but watch her light one, and blow the smoke away. Agatha keeps muttering to herself “Challeging a direct order; what will the council say? In the worst scenario, they will know I helped you and I’m done. This little shit…”

You adjust your posture to lean on one of the parking lot irons, your hands in your jacket pockets. You pull the witch out of her complaints with a question:

"What's the matter with you anyway?"

Agatha chuckles dryly, the cigarette between her fingers. "Your girlfriend."

Your posture doesn't change, but the glint in your eyes is almost sinister. "Watch your next words carefully, Miss Harkness."

It's her turn to laugh dryly and take another drag before turning her face toward you. "What is with little show you put on anyway? Standing guard outside, waiting for Rapunzel to leave her tower?" Her teasing only makes you chuckle. Agatha sighs impatiently. "You laugh now, but the whole place is surrounded. If that crazy witch ends up getting shot, I won't sell you any spells to fix it."

You roll your eyes, snatching the cigarette from her fingers. "Stop talking shit, Agatha." You retort. "There are no agents inside, I kept my part of the deal. Now, if the whole thing's still on, it's you who's not doing yours."

Agatha clenches her jaw, looking at you angrily. You just flick the cigarette, and she rolls her eyes.

"I've had unforeseen difficulties."

"Right." You laugh. "You're getting soft, that's for sure."

The cigarette flies out of your hand with her hard slap. You snort in annoyance, but Agatha is busy pulling something out of her purple suit, back now that she's out of the Hex. It's an old piece of paper that she presses hard against your hand.

"Do as written, it will be irrevocable. He'll be forced to show up." She guides between her teeth. "I doubt Mephisto will explain, but just getting his presence should do some good. And don't talk about me. I still need a big job to get back on his good side."

There's something like gratitude in your gaze, and Agatha waves you away, turning her attention to the barrier not invisible to magical eyes a few meters from dinner while you tuck the paper safely away in your pocket.

"I'm going to end all this crap today, Y/N." She declares, and you look up immediately. "Are you sure you won't-"

"No." You cut in, forcing a smile. "I'd just be getting in the way. Either side, I suppose. Wanda thinks I died, and well, I have no idea how to break the whole story to her. 'Hey baby, you thought I died but I kind of sold my soul to keep you and your brother alive. When that didn't work out for him, I ran away for fear of fucking up your life too, but whatever your magic rank, it's high enough to summon one of Mephisto's riders against his will. Any chance you would want to date me again?'”

Agatha laughs softly at the statement, shaking her head. "Don't forget the part where you're helping a witch take down her little fantasy town."

You grunt slightly. "In gratitude for my memories, only. You're a tricky merchant, Miss Harkness."

The woman chuckles, shrugging. Before she can walk away, you clear your throat and Agatha looks at you curiously. "Anything else?"

"Our arrangement, don't forget." You retort. "You won't do anything against her, or the boys."

Just to torment you, she raises an eyebrow. "No request for her husband's safety?"

You snort, rolling your eyes. "He's already dead." You grumble, and Agatha laughs darkly.

"Until recently, you were too."

"I wasn't really!" You retort indignantly, but Agatha is already turning and waving goodbye.

Alone in the parking lot, you feel the weight of the summoning spell in your pocket. Your boss would have to listen to you at some point.

-&-

Being betrayed by what seemed to be her only real friend for some time felt like a punishment.

Well, maybe it was karma. For what she was doing to Vis, and by God, to all those people trapped and subjugated to her wills, fears, and desires. But Wanda wasn't to blame, or at least, she wasn't ready to take on any of it. There was only emptiness at first, and then there was contentment. Crude and meager, but there. Her peace was as superficial as the magical fantasy surrounding her, and it didn't take long for the fear to creep back in; until finally, she was confronted with the reality of what she and her brother had never been able to accept in their youth: there is no magic formula to fix things. Just as Hydra didn't save Sokovia and cost her her twin, her magic didn't fix her grief but made it even worse.

Wanda would have to say goodbye to her children, and for this kind of pain, she had never been prepared.

Agatha seemed to take some amusement from her agony; a lot of ironic jokes as she searched through her memories. But even centuries of experience didn't rid the witch of her innate arrogance, and just as the Black Widow had once taught her, Wanda saw the opportunity to exploit her opponent's weakness.

The victory was not that satisfying, even if Wanda felt more powerful than ever. 

And Agatha, in a last desperate act, said the name of the one person who would make Wanda hesitate.

With her fingers still in the air, the redhead narrowed her eyes at the witch lying on the ground, powerless and frightened.

"I know you're bluffing."

"I swear I’m not!" Agatha assured hurriedly. "I'll take you to her. I can-"

"She was one of your tricks, then? It's as cheap and cruel as using my brother, Agatha." Cut the redhead off coldly, but the witch held up her hand, asking for time.

"Wanda, by the wizard oath." She insisted, letting out a laugh exhausted by the effort of the fight. "She was one of your tricks, not mine. You summoned her to this place."

Wanda nodded, sniffling a little. "Stop lying! I know she's dead."

Agatha shook her head. "She's not! Let me go, I promise I'll take you to her."

Wanda hesitated, in her gaze, in her posture, in her heart. Agatha continued to insist, and she looked back at her family waiting for her and all those agents around.

She turned to Agatha, who fell silent when her hand was raised again.

"I'll say goodbye first. And I swear if I find that you’re trying to trick me again-"

"I know." Agatha cut in, forcing a smile. "I promise." 

That seemed true enough to Wanda, and Agatha's determined look convinced her. She sighed and nodded, then turned away to hug her children, who were already running towards her. A mask of happiness, despite the heartbreak, stamped her face.

When it was all over, Wanda was physically and emotionally exhausted. She said goodbye to Agent Monica too, realizing bitterly that perhaps that woman was the only real friend she had made since Natasha and that she would have to lose her now too. 

And as she crossed the city limits, she assumed that Agatha had taken the opportunity to escape, and came to the conclusion that she didn't care about that at all. Something inside her broke the minute she had to put her children to bed for the last time. No silly rivalry could really bother her. 

"Look alive, Maximoff." The joke was unwelcome, but Agatha didn't mind. Nor did she get out of the parked vehicle.

"Have you ever heard of magic portals? Or, I don't know, flying?" Wanda asked as soon as she noticed the witch waiting for her from inside the car parked outside the city. Wanda didn't understand how the witch had kept the SWORD agents away from that edge, but her mind was elsewhere to ask. 

The older woman chuckled at the question, adjusting herself to lean her arms on the window and look at Wanda. "Did I mention I like the new look? Did I leave the oven on or is that heat coming from you, hot stuff?"

Wanda chuckled with more indignation than anything. When she was close enough, she sighed. "Just do what you agreed to do."

Agatha smiled mischievously. "Well, you're the one with your back to the show." She retorted, pointing at something behind her.

When she turned, she saw two figures, too far away to be identified. The sunlight didn't help either. The people had been talking for some time and it didn't seem to be a peaceful discussion.

"Who...?"

"Who do you think?" Agatha interrupted somewhat ironically. Wanda's heart leaped, and her stomach did a complete flip. It couldn't be you, could it? 

"B-but she... she was-"

"Yeah, the confusing world we live in." Mocked the witch in the car seat. "She wanted to explain everything to you but she has been a pain in the ass so I'll do it. Your friend made a deal with the devil, in the literal sense of the expression. Whatever Hydra did to her, it almost killed her. Mephisto, being the good opportunist he is, offered her a deal and perhaps because she had two people to protect and a hole in her chest, she accepted without reading the terms." Agatha smiled at her own narration, while Wanda continued in shock, being able to imagine the whole story. "And of course, like any deal with the devil, nothing goes according to plan. Mephisto must have known that the boy would die in battle, so he lied to get your friend's soul. She chickened out, by the way, after she heard about her brother. She thought the same would happen to you if she got close, of course at the time neither of you must have known your true power and authority..."

"Authority?" She interrupted hoarsely, getting a laugh from the other witch.

"By Hecate, young witches these days don't know anything," muttered the woman. "As I said before, Wanda, you are the Scarlet Witch. You're the greatest magical authority on earth. And the fact that you don't know this is exactly why I'm needed." Agatha explains. "You need a magical tutor, Miss Maximoff. Someone to train you, and explain important things, like your magical power to break a contract of souls and summon one of Mephisto's ghost riders as you please."

After everything that had happened, absorbing and accepting the madness of this whole story seemed like just one more little push for Wanda to collapse. 

Lucky for her, she wasn't alone this time.

You finally started walking towards her, until the figures became clearer, and without needing to ask, Wanda was sure that the man with a skull pipe walking next to you was Mephisto.

Everything about his posture was intimidating, and the air seemed much heavier and darker once he was close enough. But Wanda didn't mind the audience, she threw herself into your arms and was greeted in an equally enthusiastic embrace.

Mephisto waved to Agatha from the car, letting the two of you have a moment of reunion as he commented quietly to the older witch:

"I send you to collect an undeserving one and you not only fail, but you make me lose my best rider."

Agatha swallows dryly, annoyed by the scolding. But if there's anything she feels besides fear, it's pride. And that's something she and the man share, and Agatha knows it very well.

"No creature, not even the Lord of Hell, has power against the Scarlet Witch. The humiliation of losing is strong, but you get used to it." She teases, and Mephisto loses his temper, punching the car hard and trying to grab Agatha by the neck.

A scarlet tug pushes him away.

"You filthy hag, how dare you-"

"Watch your temper, Big M." You interrupt with a serious expression, despite the provocative nickname. You gently put Wanda down, who until now had been lifeted in your arms, but you continue with a hand around her waist. 

The man huffs angrily, but visibly struggles to contain his anger, while Agatha hides a little smile and Wanda tries to gain confidence in her new title and the respect that comes with it.

When Mephisto addresses her, he is much more submissive than anyone would expect after the scene.

"My Queen, please, there has been an agreement. With both of the present, this treacherous witch owes me favors and the rider owes me her life. It's not fair that I go unpaid. If I'm not compensated, I'll obviously have to withdraw the loans..." He speaks but Wanda raises a hand in the air, interrupting him.

"I think I understand what you mean. You saved my friend, and if she doesn't serve you, she dies?"

"Yes, my lady."

You tried to protest, but Wanda put a hand on your shoulder and looked at you quickly: in her eyes was the simple request that you let her handle this. 

Agatha didn't interrupt either, nor did she react when Wanda approached Mephisto.

"I've been told that the title of Scarlet Witch makes me the highest magical authority." She begins, and somewhat begrudgingly, the man nods in agreement. Wanda sighs. "I don't understand this power entirely, but I will. What I do understand now is that if I am the authority, you must obey me."

"My lady-"

"I am not done talking." Mephisto bites his tongue, but doesn't risk challenging the red irises again. "Let's make a few things clear, sir. These two don't belong to you, I do not care about the debt. I don't know how to settle it yet, but I will. So for now, you should know that they're off-limits. Agatha will be my tutor, and any extra activity must come with a guarantee that she'll return to lessons in one piece, and as for Y/N, well..." Wanda takes a step forward, a dry laugh escaping her. "She's mine, do you understand? You're not going to harm her in any way. Not ever. You've kept her away from me long enough, toying with her perception of the truth. Of that, I think we both understand well."

Mephisto clenched his jaw, seeming to fight the urge to end you right then and there. You exchanged a proud glance with Agatha at the witch's posture in front of you.

"This will be my only warning, Mephisto. I'm taking her with me, and it's better that she keeps breathing after we leave."

Irritated but restrained, he retorts: "A rider must serve, my lady, and I don't say that to contradict you. Even if she doesn't obey me, she won't be able to ignore the call. Her soul only stays in this body because of its usefulness."

"We'll deal with it without your intervention in the matter, don't worry." Wanda assures him. "And as for your payment, I still don't fully understand how this realm works, but I'll learn with the help of Agatha and the Darkhold. I believe the Lord of Hell can wait."

To Wanda's surprise, he grew friendlier, with a smile full of evil intentions. Without her realizing why the mention of the book made him so excited, Mephisto bowed again briefly. "I see a promising future for our professional relationship, Scarlet Witch."

He adjusts his hat as a sign of farewell, and it's as if the sun changes direction only for rays to obscure her vision for a moment. Just long enough for Mephisto to disappear.

"He's always rude, don't take it to heart." 

The older witch commented, but neither you nor Wanda were paying much attention to her. Wanda came back to you, wrapping you in a tight hug as a confirmation that things were really happening. And as you held her, you exchanged a quick glance with the witch in the car, a grateful one, and all Agatha did was offer the first sincere smile of the day before breaking the moment with a loud honk.

"I'm sorry, but your girlfriend is a fugitive, and flirting in the middle of the street isn't really appropriate for this moment." Mocked the witch, remembering the dozens of federal agents in the area all too willing to ask Wanda for a statement. It wasn't really a problem - but it was a nuisance.

Your girlfriend ignored Agatha's warning to kiss you on the mouth. It almost takes you by surprise, the intensity, but you manage to match it until the older witch honks again and you and Wanda break into a shared giggle.

"Don't worry, we'll have time." You meekly assure her, kissing her cheek before pulling away to open the car door. Wanda doesn't seem too keen to let you go - not that you'd want anything different - so you follow her into the back seat. Even under Agatha's warnings about behaving or she'd throw the car off the first bridge.

Once on the road, the witch met your gaze through the rearview mirror.

"My place or yours?" 

You sigh. "Mine's fine."

-&-

The first fight happens as soon as Wanda finds out that for years, you've lived nearby.

So many days when she could have taken a different route from Avengers Tower downtown to the Compound and bumped into you. 

Of course, you assured her that you kept a safe distance and that New York was full and big enough for that, but the justifications only made it worse.

And Wanda started crying and locked herself in the first room she found on the way.

You tried to look at Agatha on the sofa - very much comfortable in other people's homes, by the way - but the witch shrugged as she used her magic to bring food from your kitchen to where she was. 

With a sigh, you leaned your forehead against the door.

"Wanda, I'm so sorry I left you alone. I swear to God, I lost count of how many times I wanted to break into that tower and just say that I was with you. But I couldn't. I went to the memorial, to visit Pietro. I saw the news about the fight. I saw him die, and I kept seeing it, every time I closed my eyes. And my nightmares replaced him with you. I was sure that if I got close, you'd get hurt, and I'd rather live away from you than lose you." You confessed with emotion, knowing that she was listening even if she didn't answer now. With another sigh, you continued. "I kept my distance, but I never left. I went to all your public events, I even sent you gifts as an anonymous fan. I almost risked everything so many times. And when your friends got into fights and you disappeared to the Raft, I lost my mind. That's when... he made me forget you. It was the only way I could keep doing the jobs and not go after you. But I still lived here, and there was this lack in my chest and I had no idea what it was. Then one day I heard your voice, like a whisper in my heart, and I followed it. I ended up in Westview, and the lack was gone. It was Agatha who gave me back my memories, and we ended up here. With me trying to make you understand that there hasn't been a day since we were separated that I haven't missed you, that I haven't loved you. Please, Wanda. Forgive me."

It takes a long moment, almost long enough for you to think about letting her have more time to think about it, for Wanda to open the door.

She hugs you by the neck, very tightly, and you waste no time in reciprocating.

"Agatha has to leave." That's what she says as she releases you, making you assume a confused expression. You're ready to recall that the witch, despite her mistakes, helped you when Wanda pulled at the edges of your shirt while hiding her face in your collarbone. The way she speaks again makes you understand. "We've lost a lot of time, my love. She needs to go, so we can make up for it."

You nod foolishly, glancing quickly at Agatha who is already getting up without abandoning a bottle of your most expensive drinks that she opened without permission. Not that you're paying attention to anything other than the woman clinging to you.

"You two are disgusting, I'm out." Complains the older witch, practically running out the door as Wanda kisses your neck again and you sigh.

The door had barely closed and Wanda had already pulled your face back to hers, meeting your mouth in an intense, passionate kiss that almost made you lose your bearings.

Your hands wandered across her cheeks in a foolish attempt to gain some control of the kiss, then towards her hair and down her arms to her waist, squeezing and earning a satisfied sigh in return. Wanda's hands were busy undoing your clothes, bursting buttons, and finally throwing your belt aside.

Your blouse ended up somewhere in the room after you kicked your shoes away and while using the interruption and distance necessary to undress, Wanda spoke again.

"All this time you've been keeping watch... tell me, how far have you gone?" she asked between kisses, leading the way to the sofa as she pulled you up by the straps of the barely hanging pants on your hips. 

You fought your own arousal to reply: "Hm, never very close. Except, once..." You try to count between kisses, almost losing your train of thought when Wanda pushes you sit up and looks so stunning with her flushed face and out-of-rhythm breathing standing in front of you. "On your birthday. I went to your window, and I just... watched you sleep."

Wanda let out a curious giggle. "Do you fly now?"

"Not really, it's something called astral projection, I'm sure Agatha will teach you." You mumble quickly, and it's your turn to tug at the straps of her jeans. "Can we talk later? U-unless of course, you don't want to do this anymore, because then I'll need a minute to stop shaking and then I can tell you everything-" She interrupts you with a determined kiss, taking the opportunity to sit on your lap too.

With another sigh, she assures you, "We'll talk later." Those are the last firm words of the evening, really. After that, all that leaves Wanda are begging moans and whimpers of pleasure calling out your name.

You wouldn't have it any other way.

-&-

It's a simple routine, within the normal range of living with two witches and having your soul in imprisonment with the Lord of Hell at least.

Agatha becomes a tutor - it suits her, even if she is grumpy and mean and doesn't have much patience for teaching magic. She ends up doing a good job, and in a few months, Wanda already has the same knowledge that a witch who has spent half her life in a coven would have.

As well as classes with the grumpiest teacher on the planet, Wanda has the Darkhold. You don't see her use it that much, because she always chooses the times of your rider duties to study. That, and well, that book gives you a very bad feeling. But Wanda always makes sure that everything is under control and kisses you until you forget about it.

Of course, over time, people tend to waver in their lies and perhaps because it's a Rider's business to feel dark magic, you end up discovering exactly how bad the Darkhold is for your girlfriend. 

Or maybe the black fingers gave you a hint.

"It's not too much to ask that you be careful!" You were arguing - no, discussing - Wanda's intense study routine with a book that apparently condemned all readers. "Actually, it's quite reasonable for me to worry-"

"Oh, that's rich coming from you!" She interrupts you. Even though she is now twice the age you first met her, Wanda Maximoff is still as beautiful as the first day you saw her. And just as stubborn as the angry teenager she once was. "Do you want to talk about being reasonable? Do you think you made a good decision when you decided to sell your soul, or when you believed you could stay away for ten years and act as if it didn't affect our relationship?"

You hesitate. "I-I... you said you forgave me."

But Wanda snaps back: "Forgiving isn't forgetting! And why do you think I'm doing all this? I have to learn to control my magic, and I have to learn to be the Scarlet Witch. But most importantly, I have to learn to undo a deal with the devil because at some point you thought it was a good idea to be the Dark Lord's little slave!"

"I did it for you!"

"I know you did!"

"Then why are you angry?"

"Because I love you, you idiot!" she retorts breathlessly. "I love you and I hate how stupidly loyal and impulsive you were to do something like that. And I hate the pain we were forced to endure, and I hate that we wasted so much time."

"Wanda, I-"

"I know." She interrupts with a sigh. "I love you too."

You smile. "Stop reading my mind."

She returns the same smile. "There's not much to read." She teases, wasting no time in bringing her hands to your shoulders when you take her by the waist. You chuckle with a false offense.

"Wow, I'd forgotten how evil you can be." You retort in the same playful tone, nipping at her jaw and lowering your mouth to her collarbone.

Wanda sighs, hugging you for a moment. In the bedroom mirror by the wall, she can see her true reflection and all the Darkhold's influence on her hidden appearance. She blinks away from the demonic appearance to focus on the person holding her so dearly.

"You have no idea, my love." She whispers, forcing a smile when you look at her again. "I just want to keep us safe. Nothing and no one will ever break us apart again. I'll make sure of that."

You don't want to worry, or at least, you don't want Wanda to notice your hesitation about the frightening determination in her eyes. So all you do is kiss her forehead and hold her close.

[satorusluver]

Hi, you said you were doing a 500 followers thing, correct? If so, could I get number 42, breeding kink with either Toji or Choso? Just if you have a space open of course. I'd very much appreciate it, thank you.

Choso + breeding kink

Tags/warnings: smut (minors DNI), fem reader, she/her pronouns, established relationship, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink, slightly subby Choso (?) Lots of "please" lol

Word count: 700 ish

A/N: I go feral for breeding kink Choso. Consider this a sequel to my other lil Choso drabble. I hope you enjoy! <3

Choso, who loves family above anything else and dreams of someday becoming a father to a chubby lil baby who's the perfect combination of you and him. This man drops to his knees and presses a gentle kiss to your lower belly, to your still empty womb, when you tell him you think you're finally ready to start trying for a baby. He already worships your body to begin with, but now, to know that this woman he adores and reveres is offering to carry his child for him? The thought has blood rushing to his cock faster than it ever has before.

He wants to take you then and there, but more than that he wants to do it right and give you two the best chance of conceiving as soon as possible. So you track your cycle and Choso saves up his sperm for a few days before your window of fertility. After all, blue balling himself a little is worth it if it means increasing his chances of all that cum actually doing what it's meant to do, putting a mini Choso in your belly.

He doesn't last a whole ten minutes before cumming the first time you try to conceive because he's so turned on at the idea of finally getting to breed his sweet girl. He's already a fucked out, babbling mess who's begging for you to take every last drop of the thick load he's so lovingly saved up just for your pussy the moment he slides his length into you. He just can't believe this is real and his beloved is letting him put a baby in her. He's on top of you, one of his large hands resting almost possessively roughly where your womb is located, and his pretty face is all contorted in pleasure at the feeling of your tight, wet heat sucking him in each time he thrusts back into you like it's just as eager for his load as he is to give it to you.

You feel his full, heavy balls slapping against your ass with every stroke, and they begin to tighten as he gets closer to his release. The sounds Choso makes when he gets close to cumming are fucking beautiful, high-pitched moans, desperate whimpers and pussydrunk whines of "take it, take it, please take it. Oh god, please, baby, take my cum. G-gonna make you a mommy, gonna give you a baby, I promise."

He doesn't even really know what he's saying, too lost in the feeling of your warmth around him to think properly. He cums harder than he ever has at the thought of all his hot, sticky seed flooding your fertile womb, hoarsely moaning a mantra of "please please please" as he presses the swollen tip of his dick up against your cervix and spurts rope after thick rope of semen.

And he doesn't stop there. He keeps going, fucking his cum back into you for good measure, his fat cock still so hard and eager to give you more. The cum he's already deposited in you just makes you even wetter, and Choso watches with pride at the sight of the frothy white mess that soon covers his dick from how hard he pounded his first load into you.

"Your little pussy looks so pretty like this, my love. S-so full of my cum, yeah? 'm gonna fill you even more."

And he does, filling you two or three more times until his seed is all but gushing out of your poor, overused cunt. You honestly lose count after cumming around his cock so many times yourself. After all, he's heard that a woman's orgasm can help open up the cervix and increase the chances of conception. Whether or not that's true, Choso makes sure to rub little circles into your puffy, sensitive clit with his thumb as he fucks you until you're so overstimulated you're begging him to stop.

"My poor darling," Choso coos down at the panting mess he's made of you after hours of his ardent lovemaking.

"Does my little mommy-to-be need a break?" he chuckles when you nod weakly in response, already half-asleep sleep beneath him. Choso leans down, pressing a kiss to your cheek before whispering in your ear as you drift off to sleep.

"Rest up, my love, because I have more in store for you where that came from."

[lewkwoodnco]

i have an imagine request!

Lockwood has a particularly bad panic attack during an investigation and reader helps him to get through it.

panic attack - anthony lockwood x reader

“Maybe you hit your head harder than you thought. Quick,” she said, shoving her hand in his face, “how many fingers?”

He rolled his eyes and pulled her fingers out of the way. She tried not to focus on how gently he wrapped his hand around hers.

“I thought you liked my ugly mug. No, wait - you like my coat. And how it flaps behind me when I run. You think it’s cool.”

“No, you think it’s cool.”

He creased his forehead comically. “No, no, I distinctly remember us discussing my coat and how cool it was. I got us coffee right after, remember?”

“Delusional. Add that to your list of symptoms.”

a/n: I know, I know, what a creative title. I really have outdone myself haven’t I (/s) this can be read as a stand-alone fic but I wrote it as a sequel (ish?) to my you are in love fic, so there's some references back to that one! sorry this took so long and enjoyyyy

tropes/warnings: descriptions of a panic attack, self-loathing, angst, only a little bit of fluff at the end

wc: 1.9k!

you are in love fic | MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

Winkman was glaring at her, clearly saying something she couldn’t hear over the blood roaring in her ears. She had no idea what she was doing. Dousing them in gasoline had been a split-second decision, and now that she had done it, she wasn’t sure what to do next. Surely she couldn’t actually want to set them on fire, could she? They had a child, for crying out loud. A very creepy, undoubtedly messed-up child, but he was still just a kid. Was she really going to orphan him?

He took a step towards Lockwood, and her survival instincts kicked in. She flicked the lighter on, looking more sure of herself than he felt.

“Don’t you dare.” She stepped closer. She needed Winkman like a rat in a corner. “Touch him, and I’ll burn your decrepit little house of horrors to the ground with you, your wife and your freak of a son.”

He watched the flame, weighing his choices before he retreated reluctantly. She felt giddy with power. She clumsily crept over to Lockwood’s chair and started fiddling with the leather straps. Her hand brushed against his - cold as ice. Once the straps were undone, she waited, but Lockwood remained seated, seemingly transfixed on Winkman.

“Lockwood,” she hissed in his ear, one eye still on Winkman. “Come on. Forget Winkman, let’s go.”

Winkman’s mouth curled into an unpleasant, thin-lipped smile.

“You know I’m right, boy.”

“You shut up.” She waved the lighter menacingly in his direction and he scowled. Her palms were suddenly feeling clammy. What did Winkman mean? She hadn’t been paying attention. What was he supposedly right about, and why did Lockwood look like he believed him?

Once Lockwood was out of his chair, she wrapped a hand around his wrist, gently pulling him along as they backed out of the warehouse. Luckily, whatever spell he had been under seemed to have broken. From what she could tell from the few glances she dared to pull her eyes away from Winkman, save for a few scratches and cuts, Lockwood was mostly undamaged.

“- this is the last time I go along with any of your ridiculous schemes, Lockwood. For God’s sake, we could have d- Lockwood?”

Only Lockwood wasn’t beside her anymore. Once they had exited the warehouse, they had taken off running into the dead of the night. She spun around to see him slumped against a wall a few feet behind her, clawing at his throat.

“Lockwood?” She walked over, warily eyeing his every twitch and death-rattle gasp of air. “What’s - you alright?”

He didn’t seem to have heard her. One of his hands dropped to his chest, directly above his heart, while he dragged the other down the brick wall roughly enough to make her wince. She stepped closer, watching every fibre of his being flicker with nervous energy.

“Can’t - breathe,” he finally choked out.

“Did Winkman give you something?”

With some difficulty, Lockwood shook his head. Everything seemed to take a second or two for him to process through whatever fog was in his head. His flinching was oddly reminiscent of something, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

“Then wha…” Oh. Oh. A panic attack. As his fingers scrabbled uselessly at the knot of his tie, it became more and more clear. She was watching Anthony Lockwood have a panic attack.

“Lockwood…listen to me. The world isn’t ending. Just breathe.”

“I’m trying!” He coughed a little as he forced the words out.

“For the love of -“ she yanked him closer and smacked him across the face. The rambling stopped, and so did the restless wandering, and the look in his eyes told her he could actually recognise her now.

“Hey! Enough! Snap out of it.” She distractedly brushed a hand over her eyes. Tears. “This is all in your head.”

“No. You heard him. Don’t you see, Y/N? It doesn’t matter what I do, or how hard I try. I’m always going to be a burden and I’m always going to weigh you down.”

She thought she felt her heart break a little. It was all she could do to keep herself from breaking down too. “Lockwood, that’s not true.”

“Like hell it isn’t!” That last outburst seemed to sap away what little of his energy was left. He slid down the wall as he struggled to catch his breath, head between his knees.

“Why didn’t you let him kill me?”

Because I wouldn’t have been able to bear it. Because I would be stupidly empty without you. Because you keep this god-awful picture in your desk of me fighting a broken nose and I’m too much of a coward to accept the only possible explanation. Because I love you.

“Think of it this way. You wouldn’t have let him kill me no matter how much I begged, right?”

“No.”

“And why not?”

He pulled his head out of his knees and gave a humourless laugh. She didn’t see anything all that funny herself.

“Why not? You…you’re like the sun.”

She cleared her throat awkwardly. It was the adrenaline, she told herself. Plus the panic attack. He didn’t know what he was saying.

“You’re my best friend, Lockwood. Do you really think I’d appreciate someone killing my best friend? Huh?”

He managed a small flicker of a smile. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. It was getting late. She turned and walked down the road until she found a cab to flag down, before running back.

“Come on,” she said as she breathlessly dragged Lockwood up. She stumbled under his weight as she steered them both towards the waiting cab, already trying to forget what she had just seen. The cabby took in their gear and Lockwood’s wan face, and shot her a sympathetic look. She looked away.

The whole drive home, Lockwood either dozed or stared into space with this vacant look in his eyes. She had never seen him look this lost.

It made her want to cry.

Back at Portland Row, she sat him down at the kitchen table and pulled out their first aid kit. George was passed out on the couch in the living room, and he looked so exhausted it seemed cruel to wake him. Bit by bit, she tenderly dressed Lockwood’s scrapes.

“I just -“ Lockwood started, then grimaced. “I don’t know what I’m doing with my life.”

“Well, you head an agency that makes the world a safer place, one Visitor at a time. As far as life purposes go, it’s not half-bad.”

“Do you think,” Lockwood asked in a quiet, somewhat strangled voice, “do you think he really knew my parents?”

She scoffed half-heartedly, trying to ignore the troubled look in his eyes. “Of course not. He was just trying to get under your skin.” Lockwood winced as she pressed a damp cloth to a nasty scrape on his forehead. “Don’t tell me it’s working.”

“I’m not asking why he said it. I’m asking if you believe him.”

The denial sat ready at the top of her tongue, and yet, she couldn’t bring herself to follow through with it. She wanted to wave away his worries, roll her eyes at the very thought of any of it being remotely true, but she couldn’t lie to him. Not when it was just the two of them and there was no dancing around the fact that he didn’t look at anyone else the way he looked at her, and he never whispered a word of the secrets he shared with her in confidence. His eyes flicked from the hesitation in her eyes to where her lips were pressed thin.

“You heard the way he said it, Y/N,” he murmured, like he was coaxing an admission out of her. “He wasn’t lying. And he was bloody proud of it.”

She swallowed hard, her throat feeling inexplicably constricted as her eyes dropped to the rough grain of the kitchen table. If he wanted to, Lockwood could hold the piercing sort of gaze that felt as though he was peering right into your soul. She dug the heels of his palms into her eyes. Oh, why did he have to read her like an open book?

“So?” She dropped her hands. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I know I'm right.”

“Maybe he did know your parents. But he doesn’t know you.”

Lockwood’s gaze darted around the room moodily as he stubbornly refused to look at her face or the scrape on his palm she was disinfecting. “Maybe he doesn’t need to.”

She pulled her hand away and scoffed. “Oh my god, do you hear yourself? You’re really going to take the word of some bitter, violent washed-up relic man over mine?”

His brooding faltered. “Of course not.”

“It’s like I’ve never waded in questionable waters to fish out Sources you were too excitable and butter-fingered to handle properly.”

Lockwood had the decency to look mildly embarrassed. “That was one time, and I thanked you like a billion times for the rest of the week. I gave you three whole biscuits too.”

“Or maybe I just dreamt up all those times you had me fib about your whereabouts, like for that TV interview - brilliant plan, by the way.  Took George all of two seconds to switch on the telly and see your ugly mug plastered all over it.”

“How was I supposed to know which channel he’d pick?”

“You were on national television.” Two months on and it still hadn’t seemed to sink in. “And I guess that beehive that you were too scared to get close to in the Smiths’ case just never existed.”

“Hang on, now -“

“No, no, it’s too late. Next time I’ll just let you fall seven stories and break your neck.”

“Alright, I get it.“

She finally let herself laugh as he pulled her down into the chair next to his, her legs an undignified heap of limbs from where they were tangled with his. She tilted her head as she considered him from up close, the sheepish ghost of a smile playing at his lips and the familiar embarrassed tinge of pink to the tips of his ears.

“I’m sorry, I promise. Don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Maybe you hit your head harder than you thought. Quick,” she said, shoving her hand in his face, “how many fingers?”

He rolled his eyes and pulled her fingers out of the way. She tried not to focus on how gently he wrapped his hand around hers.

“I thought you liked my ugly mug. No, wait - you like my coat. And how it flaps behind me when I run. You think it’s cool.”

“No, you think it’s cool.”

He creased his forehead comically. “No, no, I distinctly remember us discussing my coat and how cool it was. I got us coffee right after, remember?”

“Delusional. Add that to your list of symptoms.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Lockwood hadn’t released her fingers from his grip. She wasn’t about to remind him either. He lazily stroked his thumb over her knuckles, and the movement was soothing enough to put her to sleep.

“Thank you.”

She peeled her eyes open. He was staring at their hands clasped together in her lap. He pressed a featherlight kiss to her knuckles and she felt herself flush.

“Erm, time for bed?”

“Bed.”

TAGLIST: @neewtmas @midnight--raine @ahead-fullofdreams @how-to-stuff-and-things @cielooci @mohinithoughts @that-choir-girl @snoopyluver20 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @elenianag080 @avdiobliss @houseoftwistedspirits @mischivana @dangelnleif @mitskiswift99

[ridestomars]

ISN'T SHE LOVELY? – S. HARRINGTON

𖥻 summary: the party meets y/n and steve's firstborn. 𖥻 pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader 𖥻 warnings: girl dad!steve. the baby's name is amelia. too much fluff. everyone is alive and well thank you. one dirty dancing reference. bad grammar, italics & not proofread (hey it's me). 2k-ish words. weird divs :/

💭 liv's thoughts: this is based on an idea i had last year (s4 i miss you) and a sequel of sorts to my 'all is well universe' of sunny days that won't ever end – you don't have to read it, but pls do it's v sweet. i hope you like it! <3

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK IF YOU'RE UNDER SIXTEEN.

The sound of loud chattering could be heard from the end of the hallway, which wasn't surprising, given the number of people that were sharing the limited space of the apartment's living room. The kids – can you even call them that anymore? – were never known for their ability to speak quietly whenever they were together. However, everyone seemed to be in such a good mood that you can even hear the loud sound of Jonathan's laugh. There's a first time for everything, right?

You held the small baby in your arms, walking in slow steps out of her little nursery. Though you tried not to disturb your daughter too much, Amelia already had her big brown eyes open and searching for the source of all that noise. She wasn't used to such noises, being too accustomed to her parents' soft-spoken voices and the entertaining sound of their television – that didn't play anything other than Steve's recordings of Barney episodes. It's only natural that she finds the commotion strange.

As you arrive in the living room, you are greeted by Steve in his typical mom pose, hands on his hips as he watches Michael and Max's every move, anxiously waiting for his girls. From his stance, you can see that he already regrets the idea of inviting everyone over. Taking in the very worried furrow of his eyebrows, you just know that he is going over the most pessimistic thoughts as he looks at the crowded living room.

Appearing with the small baby in your arms, everyone gasped in surprise and amazement, including Steve, who quickly made his way over to you with the goofiest, most endearing smile. His big hands wrap around Amelia's small frame, as he leans down to take her from your arms. He has that sweet look on his face, that brightens even more when he sees the chubbiness of the baby's laughing cheeks. Delicately, like he's carrying the world's most precious jewel (he is!), your husband shows Amy to everyone, with a proud glimmer in his eyes.

"There she is!" he maneuvers her chubby body tenderly, making the baby sit on his arm to face everyone. Her upper body leaned on his chest for support, and she squealed happily when her curious eyes noticed how many people were in their living room. Unhesitating, Steve translates it to everyone, "Millie says hi". 

That was enough to erupt a string of awws, sighs and one high-pitched "she's so adorable!" from Eddie. It was funny to see how a human being so small had everyone wrapped around her tiny little finger. Even Max, who usually had a hard time showing any emotion other than pure annoyance, was goofily smiling at the baby, admiring her brown (and very full) hair and round cheeks. 

The kids were the most eager to get to know Amelia, with Dustin being the spokesman for their wishes, telephoning almost every day since the baby was born to ask when they could meet her. So, it's no surprise that the first person to make grabby hands to hold her next was Henderson himself. "C'mon, Steve, let me hold my goddaughter!" he exclaims as he looks at your girl in absolute awe. 

"Your goddaughter?" Eddie asks, scoffing from his seat at the couch's armrest, next to the boy. "Yeah, right".

"Guys," Robin quickly intervenes, rolling her eyes as she watches the two bickering all over again over the matter. She was seated comfortably in the chair by your living room's small table, alongside Vicky. "Not this again, please?"

That wasn't enough to silence Eddie and Dustin, who began to argue harder about who is supposed to be the baby's godfather. The usual arguments were professed, "You're not old enough!", "but I'm the most mature!", "The baby's lullaby shouldn't be Dio!", "And it shouldn't be Weird Al Yankovic either!"

Given that he couldn't clap, Steve stomped his foot on the ground as he commanded the room's attention to him again, "Hey, hey, hey!" he exclaimed, letting out a satisfied breath when everyone falls silent again. "So, before we let you hold our daughter, I'd like to go over some rules-".

Loud groans erupt from everyone's mouths, and Amelia looks up at her dad, even more curious.

The kids were squished on the living room's small couch, surprisingly fitting in the space where you and Steve had a hard time adjusting in. Eleven was sitting on the side of the couch's armrest, patiently kicking her feet as Mike, Will, and Dustin elbowed each other in a silent fight for more space by her side. At the end of the couch, Max, Lucas and Erica found a way to position themselves without struggling too much. It was so crowded that poor Suzy had to sit on an old puff that Steve had bought in a garage sale when you moved in together ("It'll come in handy one day, you'll see!" Steve exclaimed while he walked off the sale holding the object, victoriously), right at Dustin's feet. On one side of the sofa, Eddie was slouched on the armrest, while Nancy sat on the other, as put-together as ever. Near her, Jonathan leaned against the apartment's wall, chatting with Argyle and Eden.

Amelia was carefully handed to Dustin, who sat in the middle of the couch. You figured it was the best position to have everyone look at her, an democratic decision, but it was still possible to hear Eddie complaining under his breath.

Your daughter got used to Dustin's hold fast, only shifting her tiny body over his arms a couple of times to find her position. When she did, Amy made one of those adorable baby sounds, showing everyone that she was incredibly satisfied now; and it was like the world had stopped for all of them. The only thing that mattered was to witness baby Harrington simply exist. Feasting your eyes on the scene, you hold Steve's waist, hugging him from behind as you rest your face against his arm, not being able to battle the tears that filled your eyes. Your heart was swelling with pride.

"She's pretty," El murmured, her voice sounding even quieter now, as her eyes sparkled at the sight of the little one.

With a trembling voice, Dustin agreed, "She is very pretty". 

"Yeah," Will says as he watches Millie yawn, "She looks just like you, Y/N". 

"Lucky for her," Mike and Max remark in unison, immediately glaring at each other with narrowed eyes. That makes everyone laugh, and baby Amelia opens up her eyes to check it out, opening a toothless grin after. Max, feeling as if her witty remark was stolen by the boy, adds, "It'd be such a shame if she had Steve's dead-fish stare. Thank God she has Y/N's eyes, too". 

At that, your husband gawks at her, letting out an offended gasp. He's so upset that his mouth hangs open, as he looks at her, in complete silence. Catching his incredulity, Max only shrugs, as if to say, "What can I do?".

"Well, at least she has his hair," Lucas observes, mediating the situation, as usual. 

"Thank you, Lucas!" Steve breathes out, feeling he got the justice he deserved. 

The bickering soon faded into a familiar silence, as everyone's attention fell fully on your little girl, who slept peacefully in Dustin's arms, completely ignoring the commotion around her. And that was when the emotional weight of the moment fell on all of you. Glistened eyes watched in tranquility as the baby squirmed every once in a while, as the importance of the scene settled. Amelia's sole existence reassured you of a peace that you hadn't known in years, as if she was the last step in sealing the serene fate that awaited all of you. She was living proof that life is still normal, and despite all the hard times, it isn't all that bad, actually.

Seeing those grown-up kids taking care of a small piece of you and Steve filled your heart with delight, and a different sense of fulfillment that you hadn't known until now. It's so meaningful. 

The nostalgia of seeing their sweet faces intensified when the kids started to argue about who was going to hold Amelia next, and suddenly the apartment was filled with loud chattering all over again. Just like the old times… but, somehow, better.

"Jonathan, look!" Nancy points out to little Amelia scrunching her nose, as if to suggest that he should snap a picture of the baby like that. Now, the kid was laying in Robin's arms, having her full head of hair brushed by Auntie Bobby – the lame nickname was picked by Steve, of course. "What a cute little nose you have, Amy!"

The oldest Wheeler compliments the baby in a high-pitched tone, as if the girl would actually understand. By her side, Jonathan kept taking pictures of the baby, snapping beautiful frames with that domestic feeling that you're growing used to; he promised that he'll develop all of them later. 

"When's her birthday?" Eden asks quietly, as she smooches her face against Argyle's arm, watching the baby in wonder. 

"October thirty-first," Steve answers quickly, not helping himself. Ever since the baby was born, he started to cultivate this staggering need to answer anything Amelia-related, talking about her constantly as if he didn't know how to chat about anything else.

With that spaced-out way of his, like he just had snapped out of a trance by the baby's birth date, Argyle lets out a chuckle, looking down at Millie with… respect, it seemed. "Ooh, Scorpio. Cool, man". 

Then, everyone falls back into silence, just appreciating her small features and lovable babbles. However, Steve seems a little skeptical about how cool it is for his kid to be a Scorpio, and he slowly turns his head to look at you, giving Argyle a bit of a side-eye when he does so. "What did he mean by that? Isn't that, like, bad?" he whispers to you, still watching your friends interact with Amelia from the corner of his eyes.

"No!" you immediately reassure him, telling a little half-truth, "It just means that she's very… sweet". 

Steve seems satisfied by your answer, mainly because he doesn't ask any further questions, and he goes back to keeping his eyes on Robin, making sure that she's holding your kid correctly. It isn't his fault that she has spaghetti arms, alright? 

Eddie soon joins in, though he doesn't look very pleased about it, walking to stand in front of Robin with an exasperated expression on his face. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, looking down at the girl. You watch the scene unfold with confusion. 

"Well?" he asks, lifting his eyebrows as if he is waiting for something, though he doesn't say what it is. 

Rob looks up, still playing with the baby's hair, pursing her lips while she waits for Eddie to explain why he is interrupting her moment with Amelia. From over her shoulder, Vicky makes funny faces at the small girl, making loud squeals come out of your daughter's mouth.

When he doesn't say anything, Robin asks, "What, Munson?", blinking her eyes vigorously as she tilts her head.

"You're taking too long!" he tells her like that was the only answer possible. "It's been fifteen minutes already, it's my turn!"

After Eddie's little protest (thankfully, he didn't feel the need to get on top of your table this time), everyone took turns holding baby Millie in their arms. You didn't mind it, because you knew that your friends were just very excited to be meeting your daughter for the first time, but you cannot say the same for Steve. He was hating every second of it.

"Y/N, I can't take it," he breathes out once he pulls you to the side, hiding with you in the kitchen, away from prying ears, "They're passing her around like a joint". 

"Relax, Stevie," you try to calm him down, though it's useless. Spying into the living room again, you see that Amelia is laying in Eleven's arms, which warms your chest a little. "El's rocking her to sleep, there's no prob-" 

You quickly stop talking when Mike takes the baby from his girlfriend's grasp, having a hard time managing his long limbs around the kid's small frame. Eyes widening, you look to Steve, wanting to catch his reaction to the scene. 

And he's fuming. 

But just as he is getting ready to stomp his way over to Michael, you hold his arm, keeping him back and away from the kids. "Give them a break," is how you begin to reason with him, "he's getting the hang of it". 

"Well, my daughter shouldn't be their little guinea pig," he huffs back, crossing his arms.

"Don't be like that," you persuade. "You didn't know how to hold her either, and now you're, like, a pro. Right?". 

His hardened expression seems to melt at your compliment – Steve always feels so elated whenever people praise his parenting skills, especially when it comes from you. Your husband's cheeks flush a little, and he looks down, a bit bashful. 

"You mean it?" he asks, playing with the loose seems of his yellow sweater.

"Of course, I mean it," giggling, you get closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist as you pull him in for a hug. "She's so lucky to have you as her dad. Actually, we're so lucky to have you in our lives". 

He chuckles a little, pleased to still gain such flattery from you. From where you stood, you can clearly see the timid redness that cripples from his neck up to his cheeks, which makes him seem even more adorable in your eyes. But even his striking looks didn't distract you from the intimate feeling of his hand resting over the small of your back, drawing you closer for a sweet peck on the lips. It's funny how still after all this time, Steve was able to make you feel endless electricity and warmth just by the simple touch of his lips. 

Unfortunately for you, the pleasant moment was ruined by someone clearing their throat. Pulling apart from the kiss, you and Steve looked ahead, catching Eddie and Dustin's embarrassed faces after interrupting. 

"Hey, so, hm…", Dustin starts, clearly not knowing how he should start, still very awkward succeeding the scene they had just break in on. 

"We have settled on who should be Amy's godfather, and we swear-", Eddie cuts in, talking at full speed. But before he could get on with their (definitely) deep and sensible reasoning, you hear Steve groaning. "Jesus, guys. Not this again".

LIKES, REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED! steve masterlist | main masterlist | navigation ── hey! wanna talk? leave me a message after the beep. currently accepting requests for steve and eddie. 

𖤐 I AM RESTARTING MY TAGLIST! if you want to be added to my taglist, just click here.

[mendeshoney]

this close isn't close enough

a/n: happy thirsty thurday fellow harlots ^_^

this is a small little part 3 ish/sequel to take me back to eden (you can find part one here and part two here) that just popped into my head and i figured i'd jot it down for you all to enjoy. it does discuss wanting and trying for a child, so if that's not something you're comfortable with, this may not be for you, so read with caution. this is for @pyotrkochetkov and @smileysvech because without them this fictional andrei wouldn't exist! title is from "melt" by kehlani

warnings/tags: nine year age gap, older man x younger woman, slice of married life, baby fever, fluff, lots of smut, shower sex, hotel sex (semi-public, against the window), oral sex, unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy/impregnation

word count: 12,163

“Almaznyy?” Andrei calls out, removing his reading glasses with one hand as he shuts his laptop with the other, then rubs the bridge of his nose.

He counts to ten in his head, waiting for your response, but it doesn’t come. The soft and familiar whrrrrr of a machine echoes back at him instead, and he sighs, a small smile stretching across his face as he gets up from his desk to wander down the hall.

When he makes it down the hall and to the threshold that leads to you, he's not surprised in the slightest to find you at your pottery wheel. Your back is to him as you sit on your stool, headphones on as your body lightly moves along to the music playing, hands firm and shaping the clay in front of you into what he knows is the makings of a teapot.

Beside you, on the work table, Andrei sees two mugs newly finished with their handles attached, two finished matching saucer plates that need to be painted with glaze and fired, and two little spoons, already fired and glazed, probably newly taken out of the kiln. Beyond that, he also spots two jars - one for honey and one for sugar cubes, you had told him - and three brand new jars of glaze.

He takes a second to himself to just silently admire you, his beautiful wife of nearly two years, and lets his heart beat wild and content in his chest.

Andrei had converted one of his guest rooms into your own little art studio not long after you moved in with him, and by converted, he means he took out all the furniture, stripped the carpet, and let you decorate and furnish it how you saw fit.

He tried his best to learn as much as he could about what kinds of art you liked creating, the tools you used, but in truth, a lot of it was lost on him, and you had more mediums of art you were interested in than you cared to admit. Andrei had ended up giving you his card instead, telling you to buy whatever it was you needed or wanted, so that the space became exactly what you had always dreamed of.

You had been meticulous about it, too, and Andrei adored every second of watching you design the space back then. The flooring was first - you insisted on water and stain proof vinyl floors - followed by shelves, storage drawers, a small desk, your massive work table, and other organizing things. Then, once you had a place and space for everything, you bought canvases, a pottery wheel, clay, easels, paints, a sketchbook, pencils, pens, markers, and more.

You’d bought a kiln, too, which had its own place in a little shed he bought and had built for you outside. Since you'd gotten back into pottery and started making pieces, you'd been able to sell some to a few of the wives, girlfriends, and partners of players on the team, as well as some of Andrei's co-workers in the Canes' front office. You had even put a few up of your paintings and drawings you'd done on your larger canvases in their charity auctions over the last couple of years, which had given you a significant amount of your own money.

Andrei encouraged you to go legit and open up a shop, which was an idea you'd been slowly getting used to. You'd set up a website so far, and had sold your first collection a couple of months ago - planters and vases and hanging planters and such - which had done extremely well, but you insisted you wanted to still be able to find fun in doing it again instead of allowing it to feel like an obligation.

To help with that as of late, had been your project of a tea set for his mom's birthday, which was still months away. You'd been using the kiln a lot more because of it, for test pieces as well as the actual pieces themselves, so more often than not lately, your art studio is where he found you.

"If you call for me and I don't respond to you in ten seconds," you'd told him when you first started on the set, "I'm either in here, or at the kiln out back."

Quietly, he observes as you shape the lump of clay in the center of your wheel into a sphere, then, unhappy with the roundness, you carefully squeeze at it until it's back into another lump, before shaping it out once more. The rise of your shoulders before they tense as you start to create a hole in the middle of the clay, and the fall of them again when you start to pinch at the walls until it forms into the exact shape you want.

Only when you stop the wheel and dip your hands into the bowl of water beside you to get rid of the excess clay does Andrei approach, carefully placing his hands on your shoulders to give you a gentle squeeze.

You tilt your head back, bumping it into his abdomen gently as you gaze up at him with his favorite dazzling smile. He carefully removes your headphones, putting it on the work table and smoothing your hair down.

"Hi baby," he murmurs, bending down to press a kiss to your forehead, the tip of your nose, and then to your lips.

You hum softly before sitting up, turning yourself around on the stool to face him. "Hi handsome," you return, grabbing a towel from the work table and wiping your hands before settling them on his waist, fingers playing with the belt loops of his jeans. "Did you call for me a lot?"

"Just once," he says, unable to resist bending down to kiss you again.

He loves looking at you like this, soft in the mid morning light, a blissful smile on your face with dots of clay and glaze over your cheeks and on the little apron you have covering your clothes. He loves how he can smell the vanilla of your body wash among the earthen scents in the art studio, and how it makes him feel like he's completely at peace.

Andrei loves you. His almaznyy. His beautiful diamond. His wife.

"What's going on?" You ask him, those beautiful eyes crinkling at the edges in another one of his favorite smiles when his hands descend into your hair, carding the strands between his fingers.

"I bought the tickets for us to go and visit Evgeny and Sara." He says.

"Oh good," you say with a nod before leaning into his touch. "When do we leave?"

"Next week," he says, tugging playfully on a strand of your hair and chuckling softly when you pout at him for it. "Is that okay?"

You wrap your arms around his waist, rubbing your face into his clothed abdomen, your verbal response muffled in the fabric. Andrei laughs, scratching gently at your scalp. "What was that, almaznyy?"

"Da," you say, leaning back to look at him again but keeping your arms secured around his waist. "That's fine with me."

He smirks when he spots a familiar glint in your eyes, watching the way your pupils dilate then blow out a little wide when he cups your face in his hands, thumbs caressing at your jaw. "My busy little almaznyy, you've been working hard lately, haven't you?"

You nod, humming in agreement. He nods too, letting one of his hands trail down and to the back of your neck, deftly undoing the knots at the top of your apron. "So diligent," he praises, "What did I do to deserve you?"

Your eyes track him as he removes his hands from your body, lowering himself to his knees so he can wrap his arms around your waist to get at the ties behind you. He buries his face into your neck as he does so, adoring the way your head immediately tilts to allow him the room. He ghosts his lips across the skin as he undoes the ties around your waist, ignoring your little whines of protest when he pulls the apron off of you and tosses it to the side.

He sits back on his haunches, looking up at you with a Cheshire grin of his own. "You got clay on your clothes too, almaznyy." He playfully chastises, gesturing towards the little flecks of clay on the black shirt you're wearing - which is most definitely his - and to the miniscule spots on your sweatpants. "Think we should probably get you cleaned up in that case, shouldn't we?"

A small smirk crosses your lips as you nod, and Andrei smiles, surging up to wrap you in his arms. You go easily, both your bodies on muscle memory as you wrap your arms around his neck and legs around his waist, and he lifts you into his hold easily, standing with you and carrying you off down the hall to your bedroom.

~

The warm spray of the shower cascades down his bare back as Andrei fucks you slow and deep against the tiles, his arms settled into the space behind your knees as he holds you up and open for him.

Your cries echo around the bathroom, your arms wrapped around his neck and fingers tangled in his hair, grasping at the strands desperately, his name a repeated plea on your lips.

"More," you beg sweetly, and he smiles, eyes locked on your face. He lowers you a little bit, and on the next push in, your eyes flutter shut as your mouth falls open in a beautiful cry, pussy squeezing around his cock in a way that makes him so fucking dizzy.

"Come on baby," he coaxes, pressing you impossibly closer against the tiles and against himself, burying his face in your neck to suck a bruise into the skin. With every press of his hips forward, your clit grinds against his abs, and he can feel the way your body begins to tense up and shake in his hold, your nails disappearing from his scalp to dig into his shoulders instead.

His name leaves your lips in another desperate plea, and he chuckles, nipping playfully at the skin of your neck, your jaw, before capturing your lips in a filthy kiss. He licks into your mouth, massaging his tongue with yours before he pulls away just slightly, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth as he goes.

"Is my pretty wife going to come on her husband's cock?" He taunts, and he sees the way the words go straight through you, your eyes glazing over, body going almost lax in his grip.

(He'd gotten much filthier and practically insane with his dirty talk over time. It started not long after you'd left Eden and began officially dating nearly seven months after meeting, and had only gotten more intense during the three month time span that you'd been engaged. It didn't help the fact that he noticed you particularly loved when he called you his wife, regardless of the situation.)

"Andrei," you plead. "Please."

"Please what, pretty baby?" He murmurs, dragging his lips against yours lazily, "What is it my pretty wife wants, hm?"

Your pussy squeezes down again and he groans, stealing another filthy kiss from you. "'M so close," you say between kisses, dragging your nails across his shoulders again.

He keeps your legs hooked over his bent arms, reaching his hands down to squeeze at your waist, thumb rubbing gently over where he knows a little diamond tattoo sits at your side, fucking you onto his cock in deep, sharp thrusts that steal your breath from you, and your eyes squeeze shut as your body shakes even more in his hold.

Andrei latches his lips to that sensitive spot on your neck, pressing his body tight against yours. That, and the added friction as your clit rubs against his abs, your sensitive nipples brushing against his chiseled chest, has you coming around him with a loud cry. Your pussy clamps down, pulsing around him and Andrei groans, holding you tight as he fucks past the grip, chasing after his own orgasm.

He groans low and deep, electricity shooting up his spine as he comes, filling you from where he's buried deep. It sends your body into a second orgasm almost immediately, and Andrei curses, muttering a string of Russian in your ear at the unexpected sensation.

You both take a blissful, fucked out moment to calm down, heartbeats slowing and breathing returning to normal.

"Okay?" He murmurs after a few minutes, and you nod, sighing happily in his hold. He taps your hips, and you nod again. An unhappy sounding noise leaves you when he gently pulls out, and his heart aches a little bit, thinking you’re probably sore. He’s immediately pressing apologetic kisses to your forehead while lowering you to the ground. His hands stay on your body, keeping you steady until you manage to stand on your own.

When his eyes finally get back to your face, there's an expression there he hasn't seen before, one he can't quite place. There's a tinge of disappointment there, and longing, and it brings a frown to his face too.

He cups your face in his hands, tilting your head up to look at him. When your eyes lock, the expression fades, and the smile that takes over your face is so brightly it almost knocks him off of his feet.

"What's wrong, almaznyy?" He says, thumb brushing against your cheeks.

You lean into his touch, hands circling around his wrists. "Nothing, Drei." You promise, "I'm perfectly happy."

There's nothing in your voice or in your face now that tells him that you're lying, or that you're hiding anything from him, so he has no reason to not believe you.

Still, he stores the expression he saw away for later, keeping it in mind just in case.

He takes his time washing you both off after that, enjoying the content noises you make as he shampoos your hair and wraps you up in a fluffy towel when you're all done, pressing gentle kisses all over your face before seizing your mouth in a kiss he hopes tells you "I'm so in love with you I think my heart might burst without you."

~

Andrei quickly darts out of the way as a little boy zooms past him, his father chasing after him and tossing a “sorry!” over his shoulder as he goes.

He laughs a little, calling out a “it’s okay!” in their way as he double checks that he still has a hold on your drinks and food before he keeps walking. 

He heads back into the airport lounge and straight for you, handing you a cup of hot chocolate and a warmed up croissant from one of the bistros in the terminal. You accept it with a happy smile and a murmured ‘thank you’ before he snuggles up next to you on the little couch you’ve both managed to commandeer for yourselves.

He glances over at your airport outfit once more, mostly because he can’t help but appreciate how cozy you look.

Admittedly, he’s still got a small habit of dressing up when he flies, so he’s his standard in black pants and a white shirt, and you insisted on matching with him when you got dressed this morning. You’re in black lounge pants, a white shirt, and you have a gray sweater tied and resting around your shoulders.

Andrei figured out that when you fly you prefer to have your own blanket with you, which you have curled around your shoulders right now as you take a sip of your hot chocolate.

You look more ready for a cozy winter than you do for a week-long vacation during the summer in San Jose.

“Is it good baby?” He asks, taking a sip of his own coffee. You nod, holding the cup to your cheek. Another thing he learned - you get cold easily, but especially in airports.

“Very,” you nod, leaning your head to rest on his shoulder. “Spasibo, malysh.”

“You’re welcome, almaznyy.” 

He’s content to relax like that with you, and when he takes his phone out once you’ve finished your drinks, you help him with the crossword puzzle game he became addicted to once he saw you playing it yourself.

The two of you are engrossed in trying to figure out a six letter word for the clue “tough” when there’s a blur of pale yellow accompanied by a flurry of giggles that crashes into your legs, and it makes both of you jump up a little in surprise.

It’s a baby boy, Andrei realizes, one who’s most likely just learned what running is given the delighted and mischievous expression on his face, and when he turns to check if you’re okay, he’s surprised to find you out of your seat, blanket abandoned, and kneeling on the floor in front of the child to see if they’re okay.

The baby looks like he’s seconds from crying, but then you’re smiling, speaking at him quietly and gently, and to Andrei’s amazement, the baby stops, looks at you, and then bursts into a fit of giggles.

You laugh, happy that you could make him feel better, and continue to speak to him while he babbles away at you. He’s seen you do it with Luka, coaxing him away from a tantrum he’d been seconds away from, and calming Mila down when she scraped her knee while learning to ride her bike that first time, and it still amazes him how good you are with kids. Something warm and fuzzy starts to grow in his heart, and it stops short when a woman who Andrei can only assume is the baby’s mother approaches.

“I’m so sorry!” She says, jogging toward where you and the baby are on the ground. “Leo’s just discovered how fast he can move but we’re still working on finding his brakes.”

“It’s alright,” you reassure her through a laugh. “My nephew Luka was the same.”

My nephew - Andrei still loved that you thought that way.

“He probably had places to be and we were just in the way, weren’t we Leo?” You tease, pulling a funny face at Leo. His mom laughs when Leo bursts into giggles, picking Leo up into her arms.

“He’s fast,” Andrei notes when you stand with her, “How old is he?”

“He just turned one,” his mom gushes. 

You make a little cooing sound. “Is he your first?”

Leo’s mother shakes her head with a laugh. “You’d think so, but I have a three year old too. His name’s Sky, he’s with my husband over there, we finally just got him to settle down but then this little guy decided it was time to sprint.”

You and Andrei look over to where Leo’s mom gestured, finding the three year old who almost ran him over earlier eating snacks while his dad watches over him, all the while looking over at his wife and smiling when he sees her.

Andrei knows that smile, he probably sends that same smile your way about a hundred times a day. 

Ulybka vlyublennogo muzhchiny. His mom had said. The smile of a man in love.

“You should think about getting them into sports soon.” Andrei says when he turns back toward the mom, “Sky almost tackled me in the terminal earlier-”

“-And Leo barely flinched when he ran into me!” You tease, making another funny face at the baby. He giggles, suddenly growing shy as he hides in his mom’s shoulders.

She laughs, “Everyone’s been saying that to me. I might just have to consider it.”

Andrei reaches into his pocket, grabbing his business card from his wallet and hands it to the mother with a small smile. “If you ever think they’re interested in hockey, give me a call or send me an email. I’d be happy to get them set up.”

The mother takes Andrei’s card with a curious look, and when she reads his name, her eyes light up in recognition, and she smiles, laughing a little to herself.

“I knew you looked familiar! My husband and I are big fans. We were there for your last cup winning game. It’s so nice to meet you!”

Andrei catches the glance you shoot at him from the corner of his eye, can see the tense line of your shoulders in his peripheral, but he gives the mother an easy smile, and your body relaxes.

Now that he has you, that time in his life isn’t so painful anymore.

“Thank you,” he says genuinely. “I’m glad that you were there, it felt good to have home crowd support.”

“I appreciate your offer, I’ll definitely reach out.” She says, then looks at both of you. “It was nice meeting you both, you’re such a lovely couple!”

You both say your goodbyes, you waving at baby Leo, who waves back shyly, then looks at Andrei. Andrei waves too, and to his surprise, baby Leo waves back to him too, before burying his face in his mother’s shoulder.

You finally return to your seat on the couch next to Andrei, wrapping both of your arms around his, resting your chin on his shoulder as you smile brightly up at him.

“That was hot of you.” You say, which has Andrei laughing in surprise.

“What was, almaznyy?”

“You and your business cards.” You say, scrunching your nose a little. “I liked it, it was very authoritative.”

Andrei shakes his head, booping your nose with his finger. “Calm yourself down, almaznyy. I’m still not interested in being part of the mile high club.”

You roll your eyes with a shrug, but relax fully against his side. “Offer still stands.”

~

You're laying on the floor of Sara and Evgeny's living room, laughing as you bounce eight month old baby Alexei up and down against your belly, watching as his little legs kick back and forth and he babbles his joy. From beside you, three year old Luka lays on his belly as he plays with the train set Andrei had bought him last Christmas, and five year old Mila rests on your other side, coloring diligently in the sketchbook you'd bought her for her birthday.

She'd seen you drawing in one of your journals and had become both enraptured and amazed as she observed you, and then had been overjoyed when you handed her the book and pencil so she could create her own drawings as she pleased.

Her parents had been worried that she might accidentally press the pencil too tight and ruin one of your other drawings, or accidentally draw over something you had done, but either way, you would have cared less. "It's good for her to do it this way," you had told them, "so she knows what she makes is important, too."

On the couch above you, Sara's feeding a bottle to Alexei's twin brother Aleksander, watching you and her children. She smiles, nudging you gently in the side with her socked feet.

"You're a natural at this," she praises. "The kids always seem to behave better when you're here."

You scoff a little, making nonsensical noises at Alexei as he babbles back at you. "Hardly," you say. "I think it's because Andrei wears them out first."

When you and Andrei come around, he tends to round up his niece and nephews, tiring the older ones out by running around while you and Sara or Evgeny or Andrei's parents help with the twins.

Sara shakes her head. "No, he might wear them out, but they still have plenty of room to be crazy. You settle them down. This is the quietest they've been all day."

You look at your nieces and nephews at where they each are, peaceful and happy and content, and you shrug, smiling a little to yourself. "I guess so."

Sara laughs, nudging you again. "So, when are you gonna have some little ones of your own? We're outnumbered by boys here and it's your turn to pop a baby out for once."

You falter slightly, almost dropping baby Alexei straight on your face before you catch him effortlessly, trying to ignore the wave of dizziness when you launch yourself upright into a sitting position. Luka and Mila barely spare either of you a glance, too focused on what they're doing. You gaze at Sara, holding Alexei tight with one hand while shushing her with the other.

"Not so loud!" You half whisper, half yell.

Andrei and Evgeny were just in the kitchen not too far away, and while they were probably distracted by shop talk, you couldn't risk him hearing like this.

Sara narrows her eyes at you, frowning, whisper-yelling right back. "You told me on the phone last week that you were going to talk to him about it! And the week before that, and two weeks before that!"

You groan, shaking your head and beginning to bounce Alexei again when he starts to fuss. Sara shakes her head right back at you, gesturing for you to follow her as she heads toward the twins' nursery, instructing Mila and Luka to "wait right here while mommy talks to your aunt."

As you head to the nursery, you pass Andrei and Evgeny who are, as expected, engrossed in their conversation, but it doesn't stop Andrei from tossing a wink at you as you pass by.

You pointedly ignore the way it makes butterflies swarm and swoop in your stomach, smiling softly in return before ducking out of sight and into the nursery. Sara shuts the door behind you, giving you a pointed look as she does so.

You'd had best friends before, obviously, but never an older sister figure, and none quite like Sara. When Andrei had introduced you two, she'd been nothing but welcoming, friendly, and someone you'd come to rely on quite a lot since then.

When she announced she was pregnant with twins last year, you'd been overjoyed for her, and often traveled back and forth between San Jose and Raleigh to help her with the babies, especially since it had been Evgeny's first year working with the coaching staff of the Sharks, having previously been in the front office.

Maybe it was the excitement you got in helping her decorate the nursery, even though most of it was taken care of since they had things from Luka and Mila, or maybe it was just all the preparation you helped her with, but it had given you severe baby fever.

Like...severe.

Severe enough that you were practically ready to be pregnant that very same day until reality kicked in and knocked some serious sense into you.

You'd asked her how she and Evgeny had approached the topic of having kids, if she had advice on how you should broach the subject with Andrei, and she had only one thing to say.

"They're pretty direct people," she had said. "It's best to rip the bandaid off with something like that."

A couple of months ago, she texted you a picture of the twins in the matching pajama set you'd bought, and something in it made you want to finally talk to Andrei about it. So you told Sara that you would.

But...

The second you'd gone to Andrei in his office about it, you suddenly got cold feet. Realistically, you two hadn't actually talked about having kids before. Things with the two of you had been unconventional and fast from the start, so granted, you both had done things a little messily and quite backwards.

Still, the worst he could say to you was "no" or "not right now baby," but despite your past mess you two had always been on the same page, so the idea of hearing a "not right now" was okay, but hearing "no"?

Yeah, not something you had exactly prepared yourself for.

So instead of allowing there to be room for a "no" or "not right now," you just...didn't say a word.

Which Sara was definitely going to yell at you for.

Or at least, whisper yell, what with the twins going down for their nap and all.

Sara lays a droopy Aleksander into his crib, and he falls asleep the second his head hits the pillow. She takes Alexei from you next, sitting in the rocking chair set up in the corner of the room to start to feed him his bottle while you sit on the floor, gazing at baby Aleksander through the bars of his crib.

"What in the world are you waiting for?" Sara asks you, voice soft but firm in the nursery. 

You groan a little to yourself. "I just haven't gotten around to it, okay?"

"Yes, but why?" She presses. "You know he won't say no to you."

"I actually don't know that. He might not be able to say no when I ask for help, or ask for something, but children are not things to ask for. It's an entire human being you're bringing into the world, you know!"

Sara gives you a deadpan expression. "Of course I know, I've brought four of them into existence."

"Then you know that it's a lot to ask. Even if I want a child, even if I want to be a mom and raise my kids and bring them up, that doesn't guarantee that Andrei wants the same."

"He'll want them with you." Sara insists. "He'll want them because you'll be their mother and he's in love with you and those kids will be half of you and he'll be so proud to say that they're your children."

The idea fills you with hope, but you tamp it down. You have to be realistic about this. You know your husband, and you know that while Sara's right and he will do anything for you, he also probably won't handle this being sprung on him as a surprise, or appreciate being confronted with it out of the blue.

"Just get rid of your birth control and tell him you want a kid." Sara insists, and your eyes bug out of your head.

"Are you insane?" You whisper yell. "That would definitely give him a heart attack."

"Don't be so dramatic," she says, rolling her eyes. "He's too young to have those."

"I'll talk to him," you promise, more to yourself than to Sara. "But I'm not using any of your suggestions."

Sara shrugs. "Fine by me, but there'd better be a new baby next Christmas, and it won't be mine."

~

In the kitchen, Andrei watches with fond eyes as you disappear into the nursery with Sara and the twins. He's listening to what Evgeny's talking about, he really is, but his eyes are locked on the silent screen of the baby monitor, showing you handing Alexei off to Sara after Sara's put Aleksander down.

Watching you with his niece and nephews all day had filled his heart with something warm and fuzzy, something he couldn't quite place.

The way that you cared for his family since he introduced you to them was something that made Andrei incredibly happy, and he could tell that the way that they cared for you in turn made you just as happy.

He often caught you speaking with his mother on the phone, trying your best to only stick to Russian as best as possible to make her comfortable. His father didn't reach out often, but when he did, you did your best to converse with him too. Sometimes, when you thought Andrei wasn't looking, he'd see you reading through a Russian textbook in your art studio, brushing up on the language.

You talked to Sara almost every week, the two of you growing to be as close as sisters, and that made Andrei happy considering the only real sibling relationship you had was still pretty strained. Even after Andrei married you, your brother Joshua still wasn't his favorite person, which was unfortunate, considering his husband Sam was an angel and one of your favorite people.

Evgeny had also grown closer to you a little, considering how much you helped him and Sara prepare for the arrival of the twins. There were times he'd reach out to you if he couldn't reach Andrei for any reason, and Evgeny often teased Andrei about how more often than not, it seemed like a freak accident that he'd managed to find someone like you to be his wife.

"Believe me," Andrei had told his brother. "I know."

He listens intently to his brother as he discusses what's going on with the Sharks, clearly seeking Andrei's advice, but all the while, Andrei keeps his eyes on you, watches you through the baby monitor as you sit with Sara and the twins.

Everything about your body language screams comfort, like there's nowhere in the world you'd rather be, and it brings a smile to his face unconsciously.

Evgeny pauses in his ranting, glancing to the baby monitor and rolling his eyes, shoving at Andrei. "Obrashchat' vnimaniye," he scolds. Pay attention.

"I am!" Andrei insists, turning his full attention back to his brother. "You were saying?"

Evgeny opens his mouth, then closes it, a curious expression crossing his features. "Have you thought about it?"

"About what?" Andrei asks, moving his brother so he can go into the fridge and steal one of those obnoxious glass bottles of water Evgeny insists on buying.

"About what comes after marriage," Evgeny says. "About having kids."

Andrei almost drops the water bottle on the kitchen floor, can hear it shatter in his ears, but he's pretty sure that's his brain doing that. "About what?" He asks, voice practically an echo in his head.

Evgeny shakes his head. "Ty takoy idiot."

Andrei turns to face him, frowning. "I am not an idiot."

"You are, actually. Have you two not talked about having kids?"

Andrei opens his mouth, then shuts it.

You two actually hadn't. Not really. Not at all, now that he thought about it.

Evgeny shakes his head. "Listen, I know you're enjoying your never ending honeymoon phase, but it wouldn't hurt to ask."

Andrei takes a swig from his water, glancing at you on the monitor.

You've got Alexei in your arms now, feeding him the rest of his bottle while Sara rests on the rocking chair, eyes on Aleksander.

His heart does a little flip, imagining you holding a little baby that's got your nose and his eyes, and it brings back the warm and fuzzy feeling he'd felt earlier.

Maybe...maybe it was worth a discussion.

~

Since Evgeny's house had gotten crowded with all the kids, Andrei had booked a suite for the two of you at the Marriott.

It had a lovely view of the city, especially at night, and Andrei enjoyed it even more with your naked body pressed against one of the many floor to ceiling windows, watching the way your face twisted with pleasure in the reflection of the glass.

The lights were off in the hotel room, so there wasn't a single chance of anyone seeing what the two of you were up to, but the thrill was there all the same. He wanted to show you off, show off his beautiful little wife, the only diamond he ever needed.

Your palm prints littered the window as you pushed back against him, and Andrei groaned, tightening the grip on your hips, fingers pressing against where he knew that little diamond tattoo rested beneath the waistband of your thong.

He could barely wait, barely think by the time you both got back to the hotel. The second your jeans were off, he pulled your thong to the side and slid in to the hilt, burying himself inside of you and making you come all over him in seconds.

It wasn't often that Andrei took you from behind. More often than not, he preferred looking at you, preferred watching the beautiful faces you made and watching the way your body reacted to his own. But in times like these, where there was something that could help him watch you, he couldn't exactly complain.

He releases his hold on one of your hips, letting his hands wander up your torso, bringing you upright against him as he bends his knees a little, adjusting for your height difference so he can cage you against him as he fucks into you.

Pleasant and happy noises leave you as he plays with one of your nipples, then the other, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses on your neck. His nails gently scratch at the valley between your breasts, making you shiver, before trailing his hand down your stomach.

He had every intention of putting his fingers to your clit, rubbing gently there the way you liked when he took you like this, but instead, his hands lingered on your stomach, on where he could feel the slight bulge of where his cock fucked in and out of you, and he found his hands resting there instead.

A shiver ran through your body, your pussy pushing back on his cock again as if on impulse, and a deep, pleased noise rumbled through Andrei's chest.

"Almaznyy?" He murmured against your neck, finding the sensitive spot below your ear and sucking against it gently.

You gasped in his hold, shaking a little, and he chuckled, pressing his hand against the little bulge of your stomach, the hand he still had on your waist tightening its grip, pressing his fingers a little more into the diamond tattoo.

"Can you feel me here, moya krasivaya zhena?" He asks you, cock throbbing when you squeeze against him in excitement. You loved it when he called you ‘my pretty wife.’ "Can you feel me fucking you?"

You nod, frantic, hands gripping onto his arms. "Please, malysh, wanna come."

"You wanna come already?" He taunts. "Gonna come for me in front of the whole city?"

A soft whine leaves your lips as he thrusts in particularly hard, emphasizing his question.

"Yes," you answer, nearly breathless.

“And what about me?” He teases, pressing his hand against your stomach a little more. "You want me to come inside, almaznyy? Want me to come right here?"

In the reflection of the window, he catches the way your eyes slam shut before you throw your head back against his shoulder, mouth open in a silent cry and body seizing as your orgasm claims you. Your pussy clenches impossibly tight, and it sends Andrei over the edge in seconds, pushing down on your waist to bury himself inside of you, cock throbbing almost painfully as he comes.

The two of you shake silently for a second, and Andrei holds you both upright as best as he can until he can feel your body as it calms down. He pulls out gently, not wasting a second before he scoops you up, walking you over to the bed to lay you on it gently before he climbs on beside you.

You go to him almost immediately, and his arms open on instinct, welcoming you in his embrace as you bury your nose in his chest.

He wants to say something, anything. He wants to ask you if what just happened was okay, if you're okay, if he didn't cross a line, if you maybe wanted to try that again sometime soon or maybe if you want to try it in a different position.

But then he hears your breathing start to even out, feels the way your body goes lax in his hold, and he resigns himself to discussing it another time.

~

The following day, you and Andrei head back over to Sara and Evgeny’s for lunch. You help Sara put the kids down for their naps after you all eat, and Andrei and Evgeny handle the dishes.

When you and Sara come out of the kids’ rooms, you’re met with a chorus of laughter from Andrei, Evgeny, and then their mother’s voice echoes through the living room.

Peeking around the corner, you can see Andrei and Evegny crowded around Evgeny’s laptop, definitely on FaceTime with their mother.

She signals to you to hang back, and you nod. You’re more than happy to give Andrei and his brother the alone time they need to speak with their mom, so you lean back against the wall, Sara against the one opposite you, and you smile at each other when you hear the brother excitedly converse with their mother in Russian.

Your fluency has gotten better, but it’s not one hundred percent - same with Sara’s - so the two of you can only really pick up on bits and pieces here and there, catching tidbits of their mother’s praises for her boys along with her normal chastising.

You two are looking fit!

Still, you both need to eat more. 

You’re working too hard.

Are you ready for the upcoming season?

Oh my brilliant boys!

How are my daughters?

How are the grandkids?

Evgeny, you’d better bring them by soon so I can babysit.

Andrei, how are you doing?

Are you and my favorite girl happy?

When are you two going to give me more grandchildren?!

That last part sends a shock through your body, and Sara nudges you with her foot at the same time Andrei begins to stutter and stammer in the living room.

Their mom starts to say something else when her voice gets quieter, and you realize Andrei’s turned the volume down. His voice gets a little quieter, and Evgeny’s loud laughter drowns out whatever Andrei says in return to their mother.

Sara gives you another pointed look, as if to say “So you still didn’t talk to him about it.”

You roll your eyes, and she nudges your foot again before dragging you down the hall and into her and Evgeny’s bedroom. 

“For the love of God,” she says. “I know you said you’re not taking my suggestions, but you are going to have to take this one, specifically with the promise that you’ll at least save it until you get back to Raleigh.”

You answer her with a deadpan stare, and she sighs, exasperated, before gesturing to you. 

“You have to seduce him.” She says plainly. “It’s how I did it with Evgeny, and it’s how you’re going to have to do it with Andrei instead of tiptoeing around.”

You’re slightly dumbfounded, so all you can manage is a weak “What?”

“Remember when I told you to rip the bandaid off?” She asks, and you nod. She waves a hand around, “Well, that’s what I meant by that. Seduce him. Rip the bandaid off.”

“Seduce him…” You say, and it sounds more like a question than a statement.

Sara grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you a bit. “You know he loves you, you know he thinks you’re hot. Use it.”

Sara doesn’t know how you and Andrei met, no one does except Lottie, Oli, Mason, Eli, and you and Andrei. She has no idea about your past.

Which means she has no idea that if there is anything you know how to do, it’s seduce Andrei.

~

You try your best to clear your mind, focusing on exfoliating your skin as you shower and the things you’re planning on doing once this shower is done.

It had been a week since you’d returned from visiting with Sara and Evgeny, and this morning, you’d gone to see your OBGYN doctor to discuss…well, a possible game plan.

You agreed that after you finished this round of birth control pills and had your period, you and Andrei would probably start trying.

And well, after you spoke to Andrei about all of this, of course. 

But Sara was right, seduction might have to come first. You were too out of sorts to wait any longer.

He had been gone this morning when you went to your appointment, having to be at the practice rink to watch the team’s morning skate, and when you had returned home after running some errands, he’d been in his office for a string of phone calls, which he said he’d be in and out of till about two this afternoon.

It was about noon, then. So you’d gone on a run, had a little pep talk with yourself to prepare for the impending conversation, and strategized.

The pep talk you had was simple - if during said conversation, Andrei voiced that he didn’t want kids, that was that. You would not be forcing him into anything he didn’t want or trying to convince him, and the two of you would likely talk things out from there.

If he did want kids, perfect, you could talk about that, but, you could also give him a bit of extra motivation.

Which brought you to the seduction strategy you’d developed so carefully on the way back from your run.

It was about one in the afternoon when you got back, so you threw together a quick lunch for you and Andrei to have - once he was done with his phone calls and you - and it was about one thirty when you hopped into the shower.

You’d gone for a wax right after your doctor’s appointment, as part of the errands you ran, along with a mani pedi, but a little extra gentle exfoliation on the legs never hurt anyone.

Once you finished in the shower, you toweled off and applied the vanilla lotion Andrei loved the most on you, before slipping on one of your favorite sundresses. It was also one Andrei liked on you, particularly because it was just the right side of see through. 

Hence, why it was a key part to your strategy.

It might be devious, and it’s definitely playing dirty, but you need a little ammunition on your side, if not for the sake of a small confidence boost to get you through the conversation.

You did this for a living, for a time. You did this specifically for Andrei before, it shouldn’t be too hard to do it for him again. Sure, the way that you seduced him now looked different, the way that you were together now had changed drastically, but Sara was right. At the very least, Andrei loved you, and he never failed to remind you how attractive you were to him.

So hopefully, this worked.

You checked the time on the clock on your nightstand - one fifty five. A quick glance in the mirror assured you this was the best option outfit wise, and your nerves reminded you that you’d both probably need a little bit of liquid courage for this next bit. Heading back out to the kitchen, you make yourself a quick margarita and pour Andrei a shot of his favorite whisky. 

If there was anything you knew about your husband, sometimes he just needed a little something to take the edge off before he could plow forward with whatever it was he needed to do. He was bound to be nervous once you brought up the idea of having a baby, especially if you were going to be playing just a little bit dirty about it. 

You grabbed both glasses and headed back down the hall to Andrei’s office. Just as you crossed the threshold, he was bidding whoever was on the other line goodbye, and you took a deep breath to steel yourself.

Andrei is your husband. You love each other. You reminded yourself. He is your husband. You can get through anything together.

Andrei smiles when you hand him his glass, his reading glasses perched on his nose making him look both hot, authoritative, and innocent all at once. “Now how did you know I needed this, moya zhena?”

You shrug, playing innocent. “A lucky guess.”

You both toast, clinking your glasses before each taking a sip of your respective drinks. You try to hide your smile behind your glass as you do, but you should’ve known better.

Andrei’s almost always looking at you, so nothing ever could get past your loving and doting husband.

“What’s that smile doing there?” He teases, and it’s then that he seems to finally take in what you’re wearing.

And that you’re wearing nothing underneath it.

You try another innocent smile, but Andrei raises a brow in suspicion, quirking his finger and summoning you to his side of the desk.

Placing your glass down on the mahogany, you round the desk to his side, obeying when he taps the desk and jumping up, taking a seat but keeping your legs crossed.

You don’t want him distracted.

“Are you about to ask me for something expensive, almaznyy? Because if you are, you’re off to a good start.”

You never actually needed to do anything if it was expensive, including asking him for anything, since you did have your own income, and you both knew that. But still, every now and again you liked to pretend like you did, liked the way it made Andrei nervous and pliant, like he didn’t meet you the way he actually did, like he wasn’t familiar with the concept. 

But that wasn’t what you were going for here.

“Well,” you start, “it’s sort of expensive. An…investment, if you will.”

He frowns slightly. “Don’t tell me Jarvy’s wife actually talked you into wanting to buy that monstrosity of a beach house.”

A surprised laugh bubbles out of you, having almost completely forgotten Tessa’s attempt to expand her real estate portfolio by tempting you with an even bigger sunroom than the one you and Andrei had now.

You shake your head. “No no, I don’t want that house.”

“But you do want a house?” Andrei inquires.

You shake your head, nerves suddenly racing through your veins. It makes your hands shake, so you reach out for him, cupping his jaw with your hand, leaving the other resting in your lap. You thumb over the stubble along his jaw, humming to yourself, trying to gather the right words.

It makes Andrei nervous. “Listen, almaznyy, whatever it is, we-”

“I want this house, Bubby,” you interrupt, wanting to be out with it but also not sure if you were remotely prepared for the rest of his sentence. At the pet name, Andrei’s eyes get brighter, his entire demeanor softening. “I want this house, with you and I in it, and maybe…maybe a little one running around in it, too.”

There. You said it…kind of.

But it was out there now. 

And Andrei…

There’s surprise in his face, definitely, and you’d been expecting that. But there’s also no…opposition. Nothing that says he doesn’t want to have this conversation, nothing that screams disagreement, nothing that says he doesn’t like the idea.

There are nerves there, like yours, but amongst the nerves and surprise is…hope? Something wistful. 

You lean into it, trailing your hand from his face to his arm, then down to the desk where his hand rests beside your legs. You take it, intertwining your fingers, playing with his hand a little.

“Bubby,” you continue. And that time you’re definitely playing dirty, saying one of his favorite pet names like that, like you want something - which you do, no question - and it makes Andrei’s whole body relax. “I want a baby,” you say, this time, plainly, so there’s no question and no doubt. “I want to have a baby with you.” You glance up at him, finding his intense gaze already on you. “What do you think?”

He’s quiet for a moment, and if you didn’t already know your husband, his lack of a response might concern you. But the look on his face tells you that he’s thinking, and so you wait, giving him enough space and time to collect his thoughts.

Finally, he squeezes your hand, a little sigh of relief mixed with a laugh leaving his chest, eyes crinkling at the corners as a brilliant smile takes over his features. He says nothing, just maneuvers you to part your legs so he can haul you off the desk and into his lap. You go to him easily, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face into his neck, breathing him in. One of his arms bands itself across your waist, the other across your back so he can cradle the back of your head in his hands.

“I didn’t know how to ask you.” He says softly into your ear. “I’ve been thinking about it, too. How to ask…how to tell you…”

“Ya tozhe,” you tell him. Me too. “I didn’t know if it was something you wanted.”

“We never talked about it,” he agrees. “And we should have, and I’m sorry we didn’t.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, malysh. We’re talking about it now, aren’t we?” You say, pressing a small kiss to his jaw.

He tightens his grip on you. “Because you were brave enough to do it. You’ve always been the brave one of the two of us, almaznyy.”

“You were the one who brought us together, Andrei.” You remind him, “I couldn’t have done that. Only you could have, and you did.”

“I would do it again.” He swears, leaning back a little to press a kiss to your forehead. 

You pull back a little, puckering your lips, and he laughs, leaning down to kiss you softly, gently, and like he has all the time in the world. You love when he kisses you like this, like he’s afraid you’ll break or disappear into thin air. It makes you feel precious, like the very diamond he continues to call you.

“Bubby,” you murmur between kisses, “how many babies do you want?”

There’s a choked noise that bubbles in his throat, so you pull back, looking at him in concern. He reaches for his scotch, but you bat his hand away, handing him the bottle of water he always keeps on his desk instead.

He takes a couple of grateful swigs, and much to his disappointment, you climb off of him and climb back to your perch on his desk, giving him some room to breathe. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. “Didn’t mean to take you by surprise there.”

Andrei shakes his head, putting the closed water bottle down and reaches for his glass, downing the rest of its contents. When it's empty, you take it back from him, putting it on a far enough corner of his desk before reaching for your glass, taking down the rest of your margarita, then set the empty glass next to Andrei’s. Once those are out of the way, you lean back on your hands, your attention solely on Andrei once more.

He’s got a little glint in his eye as he considers you, letting one of his hands come up to rest on your legs, caressing your skin. “You know me, almaznyy. I’m not picky.” He starts. “I’ll be satisfied with as many babies as you’re willing to give me.”

You smile, pleased with his answer. In reward, you nudge the hand he has on your leg a little, and Andrei beams, gently grabbing your calf so he can part your legs, this time, to take in the sight of your bare pussy.

Carefully, you pull up the hem of your dress and push yourself to the edge of his desk, and Andrei takes your ankles, gently placing one on the armrest of his chair, putting the other over his shoulder. He scoots his chair in closer, your leg sliding down his back a little and allowing his hands to rest on your hips.

“We should…” he starts, swallowing. “We should probably talk about this a little more.”

You smirk. “We are talking, though.”

“In depth,” he clarifies. “Get into specifics, and things.”

But even as he says it, you can see in his face you probably wouldn’t get further than the next five minutes. “We can still talk about it after, too, okay? We’ll sit and have a real conversation about it.”

He blinks, nodding, then glances down at where you know he wants to bury his face.

“If you wanted a baby, almaznyy,” he says, warm breath fanning over your lower abdomen, “you didn’t have to play dirty.”

“Dirty?” You ask, innocent as ever. “What do you mean?”

Andrei narrows his eyes at you. “The first time you walked into this office on a mission, you were dressed just like this.”

“You mean when I used to be your assistant?” You tease, and he pinches your thigh playfully.

“Moya zhena,” he warns. He may be playful, but it seems you’ve pushed a few too many buttons in that area today.

Shame, you think. Maybe I can try again after dinner. 

You roll your eyes playfully, pouting a little. “I was nervous and needed some confidence, alright?”

“You look plenty confident to me,” he reassures you with a slight nod, then he’s bunching up the fabric of your dress and pressing against your stomach, his nice way of saying ‘lay back moya zhena, let me take care of you.’

The first swipe of his tongue in your folds takes you by surprise, a pleasant squeal leaving your lips and echoing around his office. His second taste of you is slower, his tongue laying flat against you and dragging from your entrance to your clit, his lips circling around the bud and sucking in a way that elicits a pleasant moan from you.

Andrei’s hands crawl up your body to the neckline of your dress, and you help him a little, slipping the straps off so he can pull the neckline down, cupping your tits in his hands and squeezing.

He’d been particularly fond of the first time you’d had sex in this house together. Had cherished the memory of you in that light pink sundress and on this desk in a similar fashion. It was probably why you’d chosen to approach him this way, he thinks absentmindedly, lips and mouth settling into the familiar pace you love when he’s got his face between your thighs.

Andrei can feel his pants get a little tighter the wetter you get, his chin coated in your slick and nose nudging against your clit as his lips and tongue work you open. He’s so perfectly at peace here, totally content to just lick at you and taste you for hours at a time that he nearly forgets why you’re sprawled out on his desk like this.

You tugging at his hair serves as a gentle reminder that kicks him into gear, and he smiles against your skin, pressing kisses to the junction of your thighs and nipping at you a little.

“Andrei,” you say, breathless. “Potoropites', pozhaluysta.” Hurry up, please.

He shakes his head, gently letting your legs fall to the side as he sits up in his chair, draping his body over yours. “Not this time, almaznyy,” he says, wrapping your arms around his neck before he wraps his own arms around your back, cupping your ass in his hands.

Your brain kicks into gear just in time for you to wrap your legs around his waist, and then he’s lifting you up, pressing filthy open mouth kisses to your neck as he navigates the hallway carefully, taking the measured and familiar steps to your bedroom.

He lays you gently on the mattress, placing you delicately among the pillows before he’s shedding his shirt and pants, kicking his boxer briefs off to the side and then settling back between your legs.

This time, your thighs squeeze at his head when he sucks your pussy into his mouth particularly hard, tongue dipping inside of you, and your fingers fly into his hair, scratching at his scalp in warning.

“Behave, moy muzh.” you hiss through gritted teeth, even if the way you writhe against his face tells him you like it. 

“You started it,” he reminds you, tugging on the dress resting around your middle. You huff, grabbing the bottom and peeling it off, tossing it in the direction of Andrei’s pile of clothes. 

Your eyes sparkle with mischief when you watch the way he takes in the sight of your naked body. No matter how many times the two of you do this, Andrei always looks at you the same way.

Like he’s in love, like it’s the first time, like for all he wants to take you apart, the way he’ll put you back together will be well worth it, and if it isn’t, he’ll work for it until it is.

“Pridi ko mne, lyubov' moya,” you beckon him. Come to me, my love.

His bottom lip drags against your clit as he rises from his position, tongue darting out to lick at your arousal still coating his lips, and the sight alone licks at the flame of arousal sparking low in your belly.

When he crawls up your body to kiss you, he props himself up on his arms, not wanting to rest his full weight on you, his delicate little almaznyy. Normally, you love it, but right now, you need something a little different. 

Your arms wrap around his neck as you seize his mouth in a bruising, desperate kiss, pulling him down to you and taking him by surprise as you manage to flip him onto his back on the way down. You take full advantage of his surprise by making your way down his body to settle between his legs, wrapping your fist around his cock and taking him into your mouth.

Andrei groans, sitting up on his elbows to watch you.

“I don’t know if we’ll be able to make a baby if you keep doing that,” he warns, cock throbbing against your tongue as if to emphasize his point. 

You bat your eyelashes at him, sucking at the head of his cock and using your hands to stroke at him at the same time. He hisses, one of his hands flying to rest in your hair, the other resting behind his head and emphasizing the chiseled muscles of his arms, chest, and abdomen.

Sometimes, you couldn’t believe this man was your husband.

“Almaznyy,” he warns when you take him down your throat, swallowing around him. You’re slow to come off his cock, letting him leave your lips with a dramatic ‘pop.’

“I’m still on birth control,” you tell him. “So we can’t make a baby tonight anyway, probably not for another month, at least.”

His brows furrow, both from your statement and the way you twist your wrist, stroking his cock the way you know he likes. “Then what - ah yebat’ - what are we doing?” He asks, trying to focus on the conversation as you take him back in your throat. You hum a little, and he tugs on the strands of your hair again in warning.

You pull off of him, gently stroking your hand up and down, squeezing as you go. “Practicing, of course.”

He lets his arms fall out beside him, collapsing against the pillows and dragging his hands over his eyes. “Almaznyy,” he huffs, hips stuttering when you squeeze him at the base.

“Hmm?” You hum, ready to take him in your mouth again, but Andrei moves quickly, hauling you up his body and cradling you close as he flips you over again. He positions you among the pillows, placing one under your waist so you’re practically propped up for him. He positions himself so his arms rest in the crook of your knees, your ankles near his head as he folds his body over yours.

He takes his cock in his hand, running the head through your folds. “Practice?” 

You nod, “Practice, for now.” You reach out, pushing his hand out of the way so you can line his cock up with your entrance. “Which is why the desk was perfectly good, and-”

The rest of your words are stolen from you when Andrei bats your hand away gently and slides inside of you, slow but precise, bottoming out and nestling his body close to yours. Your eyes flutter shut when you squeeze around him, and his hands come up, cradling the sides of your face as he murmurs encouraging words to you, staying still until you’ve adjusted to his size.

“Almaznyy,” he calls, and your eyes blink open, glazed over and hazy and you’ve barely even started. “Good?”

You nod, tilting your hips a little, trying to fuck yourself on his cock. He laughs a little, shaking his head. “So damn impatient.” 

He raises his body off of yours a little, angling his hips and setting a steady pace, one that has you whining in protest almost immediately, grabbing at the muscles of his ass and trying to drag him closer.

“I won’t break Andrei-” you start, but he cuts you off with a particularly hard thrust that has your eyes rolling back into your head.

“I don’t care if it’s just practice, almaznyy.” He tells you, “and I don’t care how many times we have to practice. I’m going to make it last, and I’m going to make sure that you remember all the ways I fuck you and make love to you until I put a baby in you.”

You gasp a little, and Andrei smiles to himself, thoroughly pleased. He sits up, placing his hands on the backs of your thighs and settling in to fuck you just the way you like. He fucks you in deep, strong strokes, the head of his cock brushing up against that sensitive spot in your pussy every single time.

It steals your breath from you, and all the telltale signs of an orgasm approaching signal to Andrei like a beacon. The way your breathing catches in your throat, the way you can’t keep your eyes open, how your legs start to shake.

He takes his thumb and rests it on your clit, rubbing in lazy circles until your back arches off the bed, a satisfied cry echoing out of your throat and into the pillows beside your head when you come. Your pussy squeezes down in a way that makes Andrei’s head go dizzy, and then he’s coming with a groan, pushing your hips down onto him as he buries himself to the hilt, his orgasm sudden and a shock to his system.

It takes him a second to catch his breath, and moves your legs off of his shoulders to make it easier to pull out of you and give you reprieve, but a noise of protest leaves your throat, and your ankles lock at the base of his spine. 

He pauses, glancing at you curiously when he notices the look on your face.

Andrei thinks back to before you left for San Jose, the day he took you in the shower, and how upset you’d been when he set you down on your feet.

It clicks in his head, then. What you’d been upset about.

He’s still hard - he’s practically always hard when he’s around you - so he moves his hips, slowly pulling back an inch before pushing back inside. You throw your head back, his name leaving your lips in relief, and he smirks. 

Fucking you in shallow thrusts, thumb circling your clit, Andrei watches in fascination as he pushes his come back inside of you with his cock, watches the way your pretty face twists in pleasure, and hums satisfactorily to himself. 

“Is this what you’ve been needing, moya zhena?” He asks, eyes on yours the whole time. “How long have you wanted this?”

You can barely answer him, your head thrown back against the pillows, eyes squeezed shut, brows furrowed, back still arched and pushing those beautiful tits of yours up. Andrei takes them in his hands, massaging them, and you keen, pushing into his hands and pussy trying to retreat from his cock with nowhere to go.

The sensation feels different for him. He’s hypersensitive now, all too away of the slick slide of his cock, of your mixed come leaking out of you before he pushes back in, feels heat begin to prick at his skin when your pussy continues to flutter and squeeze, like it’s trying to keep him inside of you. With every brush of his finger over your nipples, your pussy squeezes and you try to pull off of him, but in the next breath you’re winding your hips, pushing back down until he’s buried to the hilt.

Andrei pushes your legs up again before he rests his weight on you gently, his shoulders under your knees, burying his face in your neck and placing his hands under your ass, cradling you closer to him as he starts to fuck you in deeper strokes, drowning in the pleased little noises leaving your lips.

“Ty chuvstvuyesh' sebya tak khorosho, dorogaya,” he murmurs against your neck. You feel so good, darling. 

“Andrei,” you finally manage to breathe out, and relief floods through his veins. There were times when you two made love that you got so lost in the pleasure that you couldn’t speak to him, and it worried Andrei to no end. But you always came back to him, always called for him, and the same calm washes over his body, a shiver running up his spine.

Your arms come up, wrapping around his neck and arching your back, giving him more access to you. Andrei hums, pleased, sucking a bruise into your skin while his cock starts to throb from where he’s fucking you, can feel a second orgasm creeping up when he bites down gently, raking his teeth over the sensitive skin and you start to squeeze and clench around him.

“Gonna come again, almaznyy?” He asks, nosing along your jaw. “Want me to come again, too?”

You nod, turning your head and Andrei meets you, slotting your lips together and swallowing your moans down when you shake gently beneath him, back arching and pushing your body closer to his. His eyes squeeze shut, electricity zipping up his spine when your orgasm tips him over the edge and he’s spilling into you again, groaning against your jaw.

His arms come out from under you and he gently eases your legs back down against the bed, massaging the muscles as he does. Instead of resting them against the bed though, you wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles at his lower back, and Andrei laughs. 

Gently, he rolls you both until he’s laying underneath you instead, careful to keep himself nestled inside of you, and he smiles to himself when you do a half cat-like stretch before sprawling across his chest. 

A pleased little exhale greets his ears after a moment, and his hand comes up, rubbing gentle circles in your back. “Made you lunch,” you tell him, voice hoarse. “‘S in the kitchen.”

“Spasibo, almaznyy.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We should go eat it then, it’s probably cold by now.”

“It’s the chicken caesar salad wraps you like.” You say, lips dragging across his chest as you speak. “And I made strawberry lemonade this morning, should be ready by now.”

He nods, tapping your flank gently. “We should get up, malyshka. Get cleaned up.”

You nod, but you’ve got that look in your eye like before, like you’re disappointed as you carefully lift yourself off of him and roll onto the mattress beside him. Andrei rolls onto his side, cradling your face in his hands. “What’s wrong, moya zhena?” 

You shake your head, a small smile gracing your lips. “Nothing’s wrong, just…excited, is all.”

“Excited?”

“To start a family with you,” you clarify. 

“Then why do you look so sad?” He wonders, thumbing at the pout in your bottom lip.

You laugh, nose scrunching a little before cuddling into him. “It’s silly - I just wanted to start now.”

“It’s only a month, right?” He asks. You nod, nose rubbing at his pec, and he smiles to himself. “That’s good - plenty of time for us to practice, then? Wanna make sure we get it right on the first try.”

You snort. “Perfektsionist.” Perfectionist.

“Only the best for you, moya zhena.” Andrei says, teasing. Underneath it though, you both know that he’s serious. Because if anything, even as he rises from the bed and lifts you in his arms, carrying you into the bathroom, you know he never does anything half assed. 

Now that you’re both on the same page, he’s going to do everything he can to ensure you’re well looked after from beginning to end, and when your little baby eventually comes, he’s going to work twice as hard to make sure the both of you are taken care of, and that you’ll want for nothing.

You, his almaznyy, and your future child, his malen'kaya rubin. His little ruby.

[magicomens]

Hello, I hope you’re well :)! Your comic had appeared on my dashboard from time to time since I got Tumblr, and I found the crossover a genius idea, but I never actually got to read it, anxious of how it could end and wanting to wait for it to be completed (as I usually do with most comics/stories), but today I couldn’t help it anymore, curiosity was eating me alive, and I binge read it (best decision of my life so far) and just let me tell you:

IT’S WONDERFUL!!!

It’s not just about, “Oh, it’s a crossover of two of my favourite tv shows.”, but it’s literally spot on. The facial expressions of the four of them, the dialogues, hell, I could hear them talking between each other, each one with their intonation and can we talk about the jokes in between the tragedy? Top notch. The cartoon-ish but defined drawing style? Magnificent and it pleases my eyes. The fact that it is in black and white and has sometimes sparkles of colours makes it even more interesting. I’m new to your blog, so I apologise if this question has already been asked to you, but I was just wondering, how did you come up with this idea? I mean, literally the:

“I want to make a crossover of these tv shows and I’ll rewrite the story in THIS specific way to make it work.”

Because it does work, and magnificently too :)!

I love it and I really appreciate what you do. You take care of the drawing and the story all alone and you publish it because you love it and that is brilliant.

Keep up the good work☺️✨!!!

Gaaaah thank you SO much for the sweet message!! <3 <3 (I totally understand waiting for smth to be complete to read it, that's what I prefer too!)

The idea for the crossover came to me after watching GO and thinking it could fit together with Merlin: Azi and Crowley are shown to interact with/mention historical figures and it's set in modern day, like many Merlin fan-sequels have Arthur come back in our time!

It made for a fun quick comic idea, but then I just........ kept going as I expanded that one-shot punch-line to a proper story: why is Arthur back now? How does Merlin react? Is he in love with him? Do Aziraphale and Crowley know about them? Did they have a role in Arthur's fall? What are they gonna do to stop the bad guy?

All that, plus my natural inclination to get obsessed with silly crossovers (rotbtd my beloved <3)

Thank you again for all the compliments!!!

[thebiggerbear]

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that." - CJ Braxton Prompt Response

Summary: You had only meant to call once, remaining anonymous while feeling out the whole helpline thing for yourself. Now, you talk to CJ every Friday night around the same time. When you don't call one Friday, CJ is worried and comes looking for you which presents its own host of problems.

Pairing: CJ Braxton x Female!Reader; CJ Braxton x College Student!Female!Reader

A/N: Prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting (#941). I initially wasn't going to write anything for CJ but this idea popped into my head for this prompt and I just had to write it. And I absolutely fell in love with the dynamic between CJ and the reader (and had so much fun with this). Please forgive any timeline tomfoolery or anything time wise that makes you go "huh?"; I was trying to make this work throughout the season from CJ's entry into the show (and his conversation with Jen about the helpline) to the end.

I wasn't much of a Dawson's Creek person back in the day (I still haven't seen seasons 2-5), so I hope this came out alright. I tried to keep it as 2000-ish as possible. I remember back in the day not everyone had a cell phone like Dawson, Audrey, and Pacey (though a lot of people were getting them moving into the beginning of the decade) so that rule kind of applied here so to speak.

This is meant to take place during s6 before Jen joins The Stand.

Sequel here

Warnings: implied sex; panic attacks; implied anxiety

Word Count: 15k+

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

CJ Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx

You can also read on AO3

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Soldier Boy version ✨ Beau version ✨ Dean version ✨ Jenny version ✨ Jason version ✨ Tom version ✨ Rachel version ✨ Anael version ✨ Alec version ✨ SDV Leah version

You glanced at the clock, seeing it was 6:59. One more minute and you’d pick up the phone as you did every Friday night and make the call you always did. Your nerves thrummed in anticipation as you stared down the clock, willing the numbers to turn.

Eventually, you got your wish and as soon as the 7 appeared on the clock face you picked up the phone, dialing the number you now knew by heart. After a few rings, the call finally connected. 

“Hello, Helpline. This is CJ.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the sound of his voice. “Hey.”

“There she is.” You could hear his own smile in his tone as he recognized you. “How are you, Jo?”

You winced at the fake name you had given him. At the time, you had quickly scrambled and chose the first name that came to mind. Granted, Joey Potter was in the same school as you so you weren’t too worried about him finding out about either of you seeing as he was from Boston Bay. But as you had talked with him more and more, you really wished you hadn’t given him any name but your own. Even if you were beyond terrified; you felt bad for lying to him.

Why should it matter, right? He was a volunteer counselor for a teen helpline at another college. Why would you care what this one person thought out of you?

Well, unbeknownst to him, you had seen him once and you knew who he was. Thanks to Joey and Audrey’s friendship with Jen, you had come to hear quite a bit about the cute tall guy whose voice made your heart rate speed up way too fast. Jen had even invited him out to a house party and that was when you saw him for the first time. Your nerves got to you and you bounced before one of your friends could make an introduction. Partly because you were afraid he would recognize you from your voice and immediately put a face to the name and possibly be disappointed or worse: he’d know you lied to him. So you avoided him at all costs — well, in person.

It wasn’t like you had planned for this to happen, where you would call a helpline weekly just to speak to a certain boy. That’s not how this started at all.

When you got to Worthington, you were homesick, overwhelmed, and overall terrified. While you eventually eased into the college student lifestyle and Boston was now home, you never really got past the overwhelmed feeling, and terrified had dialed down to being anxious all the time: anxious that you would mess up, anxious that you would fail, anxious that your future wouldn’t turn out the way you planned — all of it. There were days you felt like you were just scraping by, barely making a passing grade (though your final grade usually proved you wrong), and you felt like you were some sort of imposter who was soon to be found out and didn’t really belong. Meeting Joey and her roommate, Audrey Liddell, who lived down the hall from you, helped some, and their introducing you to their group of friends helped even more. But there were still times that you just felt…tightly wound and about to snap. As if you had too many balls in the air and you were about to trip, and all the balls would fall to the ground.

So when Jen mentioned to the group about some guy wanting her to join a teen helpline for the college, you quietly paid attention. She laughed it off — his approach, not the helpline — and she didn’t think she would be right for it so that was that. While everyone else began to talk and laugh about another topic, the wheels in your head slowly started to turn inside your head. A helpline where you could remain anonymous and talk to someone who would listen and could possibly even help. You knew your school most likely had one of those but you wouldn’t even dream of risking it. But a helpline elsewhere where you could talk to someone who maybe understood how you were feeling most of the time, maybe experienced similar things, and you were able to stay anonymous? That you could look into.

After much back and forth in your mind over it, you took the leap and made the call one Friday night after a particularly rough week. You really didn’t think anyone would pick up, it was close to 7:00 and most college kids were either out or getting ready to go out…right?

Before you could answer your own question to yourself, the line connected.

“Hello, Helpline. This is CJ.”

You did what any other person would do; you promptly hung up. You stared at your phone in terror. Someone had picked up. A guy. Just when you were convincing yourself that this was stupid and you needed to take a chill pill and deal.

You argued with yourself in your head for about another minute, hemming and hawing over it all. Wasn’t the whole point of you calling to try to do something about how you’d been feeling? You supposed you could always see a therapist here in town but that could be costly, even with insurance. You also had no desire to tell your parents because they would respond the same way they did the last time you tried to allude to how overwhelmed you were when you had returned home for the summer.

“You should be grateful you got into such a great school, Y/N. Most people would kill to be in your position, going after their degree. You don’t see your classmates moping about, do you? Just because they have classes and homework,” your mother had made sure to prick you with that pin of guilt. “Make the best of it.”

“You know what I think? I think you need to get yourself some friends and then you’ll stop focusing on this so much. If you have nothing to fill your time, of course your mind is going to obsess over what you’re viewing as negative. Try to join a club or a social group. They have keggers all the time. I remember back when I was in college. It was party city every weekend. Maybe let loose a little one of these Saturday nights and things will start to get better. And who knows? Maybe you’ll even make some friends.”

“Thanks, Dad,” you mumbled, tossing your overeasy egg onto its side with your fork, your eyes trained on your plate. You knew he was just trying to help — they both were — but their attitude seemed to imply that you could simply hit an off switch somewhere and you’d stop feeling so overwhelmed. If only.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to take their advice. You had gone to some frat party and it had been one of the worst experiences of your life. You weren’t a big drinker and you weren’t really a party person in general. You didn’t really recognize anyone from your classes or your dorm and the music was so loud, it seemed like a ridiculous notion to try to approach someone and start a conversation. Not something you were very good at anyway. You had no idea how to play the drinking games you saw, other than what you’d seen on TV, and you didn’t want to do something to mess up anyone’s scores if you didn’t do it right. Then some hulk of a guy accidentally knocked into you, deluging you in beer, and he was so drunk, he didn’t even apologize, just kept on going. After about an hour (and the unintended beer bath), you decided to call it quits.  

That night, you had gone back to your dorm room which was blissfully empty, taken a hot shower, and then sobbed into your pillow. So much so that when a drunken Audrey accidentally stumbled into your room, she saw your tear-stained face when your head snapped up and immediately asked what was wrong and why you were crying in her room of all things. Despite the back and forth over whose room it actually was and her drunken state along with the slurring of her words, you two actually kind of hit it off. Before long she had you laughing, something you felt like you hadn’t done in some time. She passed out in your roommate’s bed, much to your roommate’s chagrin, but when Audrey’s boyfriend and roommate came to get her the next morning, you figured that had been it. Your one social interaction with someone who didn’t look at you as an unwanted intruder every single day (like your roommate) or like you were some loner weirdo (like most of your classmates). You knew that Audrey would probably either ignore you the next time she ran into you or she wouldn’t remember you at all. 

Boy, had you been wrong. The day after her hangover, she had been knocking on your door, smiling and telling you that you were going out with her for the night. Just like that. She introduced you to her roommate, Joey, and their group of friends. You had been inducted into their group of friends, just like that.

Eventually, Jen mentioned the helpline that one night and now here you were, staring at the phone as if it was about to come to life and do a dance or something. You waited a few more minutes, deciding you’d try again and hopefully get someone else. There couldn’t be only one person answering phones at a helpline, could there? That would make for some backed up phone traffic and not a good look for a helpline at all. Maybe you’d be lucky and the guy would have already had another caller he was speaking to so another counselor would have to pick up.

When the clock turned to 7:11, you slowly picked up the phone, took a deep breath, and dialed the number again. You began to jiggle your leg as you waited for the line to connect.

“Hello, Helpline. This is CJ.”

Oh crap. You froze.

“Hello?”

What did you do? You wanted to hang the phone up again but you were unable to. 

“Hello?” He asked again.

No. You were going to be a mature adult about this and answer him. Just as soon as you could breathe. You covered the mouthpiece with your hand and exhaled a breath.

“Look, if you’re in trouble or can’t talk, just hit a button. Any button will work.” A minute passed while you were trying to breathe, getting ready to talk. “If you don’t have a crisis and you’re not calling to speak to someone here, then I think you should hang up and let other people who need us call in. No use in tying up the phone lines.”

Another minute passed. You really were trying your hardest to get words out but your chest was tight and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your heart was racing yet you were frozen. This happened sometimes but usually you were by yourself, not with someone waiting for you to speak on the other end of the phone line. It also happened a couple of times while you were out with your friends, but usually you hid out in a bathroom stall until it passed and then you left to go back to your dorm with the excuse of a test the next day or a project due, whatever you could come up with on the fly. You didn’t understand why it was happening to you right now, though.

“Alright, I’m going to hang up now.”

You smashed a key on your phone so fast that you heard a loud annoying sound in your ear. Immediately, the guy’s tone changed. 

“Okay, I’m here. If you’re in trouble, hit the key again. If you’re not but can’t talk at the moment, don’t hit it.”

You didn’t hit any more keys and gasped for air that just wasn’t coming.

“Good. I’m glad you’re okay. Is someone in the room with you and that’s why you can’t talk? If so, hit the key again.” 

You moved over to your bed and laid down. That was the fastest way to get your body to relax when you had the option you’d found out.

“Okay, so you’re alone but you can’t talk but you’re not in trouble. Can you just try to say one word or make a sound so I know you’re really okay?” 

You removed your hand from the mouthpiece. “T-Trying,” you rasped out. Holy crap, this was a bad episode you were having. You were completely mortified. Perhaps you really should hang up. You were worried, though, that now he might notify someone or think you really were prank calling the helpline. Either way, you were bound to get in trouble and even more embarrassed, and that just made your chest tighter.

“Okay. That’s good. I’ll take that. Do you have asthma or something similar?” 

Great. That’s how bad you’d sounded; he thought you might actually have some sort of breathing issue. Well, technically, you were struggling to breathe right now so it made sense that he would think that but if he only knew the actual answer was something that was beyond ridiculous and couldn’t be explained away as something as serious as asthma. 

“No,” you whispered, rubbing at the spot in your chest where a mix of discomfort and a heavy-rock-feeling sat. 

“And you’re sure you don’t need to go to the hospital to get checked out?” He sounded concerned now. 

“No,” you repeated, staring up at your ceiling, your vision blurring with building tears. All you wanted to do was give this helpline thing a shot since nothing else seemed to be working, and here you had gone and made it so much worse. On top of that, you were frustrated that you couldn’t even do something as simple as answer a person when they said hello on a phone call that you made to them. What was wrong with you? 

“Okay. That’s good. Why don’t I talk for a minute so you can relax?” A tear slipped down your cheek when you realized he must have heard your heavy exhales over the phone. “Like I said before, my name is CJ. I’ve been with the helpline for a while now. I’m here four days a week. I try to schedule shifts around my classes and pick up a few extra when I’m able. Before you called, I was doing some reading for my Philosophy class. It’s not my major but I had to take another humanities course. It was that or religion so…philosophy it was.”

You closed your eyes and focused on his voice. It was actually very soothing and it was helping.

“Between you and me, I’m not the best student.” Your eyes opened and you stared at the ceiling, listening intently. “I mean, I do okay in terms of grades, but I’m not exactly a frequent flier on the Dean’s list.” He chuckled and after a moment, he asked, “How about you?”

You swallowed, feeling the slightest bit of easing up on your chest, almost if it was allowing the words through. “I do okay.” You didn’t sound as raspy as before but you still had a faint wheeze at the end. You were coming out of this, slowly but surely.

“That’s good. College sure isn’t easy, by any means. When midterms roll around, I always get a little more stressed. I usually have to blow off some steam to keep it all balanced, you know? Or else I get easily overwhelmed. I have to remind myself to take it one class at a time, one day at a time. But easier said than done sometimes, right?”

“Right.” You knew what he was doing but since it seemed to be helping, you played along. He was getting to the heart of the issue while also giving you time to come back down. You’d only been on the phone with him for close to ten minutes and already you felt much better than you had when the call started. 

“How are you feeling? Any better?”

“A little.” 

“Good.” He sounded genuinely pleased. “Is my being the one to talk helping any?”

“Actually…yeah,” you breathed out. 

“Does this happen a lot?”

You bit at your lip, not really wanting to admit it, but you had called for this very reason, hadn’t you? “Yeah.”

“Around midterms or anytime?”

“Anytime.”

“Even when you’re not in school?”

“Sometimes,” you whispered. “But mostly when I’m here.”

“So school related then?”

“Kind of.”

He was quiet for a moment and you wondered if you had said something wrong or if he was looking instructions up in a pamphlet or something for this sort of thing. 

“Hey, did you see Phantom Menace when it came out last year?”

That caught you off guard. You hadn’t expected to switch gears so quickly. “Um, no?”

“You’re not a Star Wars fan, I take it?”

He didn’t sound disappointed so you chalked that up to being a good thing. Most guys you’d met either were completely into Star Wars or weren’t into it at all. “I don’t know if I’d call myself a fan but I’ve seen the original movies.” 

“Uh oh, you’re not one of those prequel snobs, are you?” He teased.

“No? I just saw the trailer and I wasn’t interested.”

“Well, a buddy of mine and I went to see it when it came out. The theater was packed. I’m talking bursting at the seams.” A small smile started to creep onto your face at his energy. “And when the lights went down and the opening credits started rolling and the music started up, everyone was cheering and clapping. It was pretty awesome. My buddy ended up loving it. He’s the biggest Star Wars fan you’ve ever met.” A moment later he asked, “So besides anything in a galaxy, far far away, have you seen any other movies that came out?”

“I went to see The Green Mile. My, uh, my dad is a big Tom Hanks fan and a Stephen King fan so he really wanted to go.”

“And you?”

“I liked it. Though it was sad.” 

“I didn’t see it yet but I got the feeling that it was going to be a bit of a heavy one.”

“It was, but it was worth it.” You noticed then that you were talking to him normally, you were breathing normally, your chest was still a little tight but that was to be expected, and you were sitting up with your back to the wall. You had gotten through your latest episode and this CJ had helped. Perhaps there was something to this helpline thing after all.

“I’m definitely going to check it out then. Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome.”

Almost as if he had heard your thoughts, he then said, “You sound a lot better than earlier. Hopefully, you’re feeling better, too?”

“Um, yeah.” You anxiously tucked your hair behind your ear. “Thanks for earlier, by the way. You know, being patient…”

“Of course. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Right.”

“So, you feel up to telling me what’s going on and why you called tonight or did you want to talk about something else?”

You bit at your thumbnail, unsure. “I feel bad. I’ve taken up so much of your time already.” You glanced at the clock and saw that you had been on the phone with him now for almost half an hour. 

“Don’t worry about the time and I don’t want you feeling badly.” He sounded completely genuine when he said it and it made you feel a little bit better about monopolizing his time like this. “This is why I’m here. So, if you want to talk, I’m here to listen.”

You still weren’t certain you should take him up on his offer. “Are you sure? What if there’s someone else who needs to call in who is having an actual crisis and you’re stuck on the phone with me? I would feel bad if they didn’t get to talk to you when they needed to because of me.”

“I’m not the only one here so if someone else does call in, they’ll speak to one of the other counselors who can help them. While we’re on the subject, what you’re experiencing is just as valid as what anyone else might be experiencing. I’m not stuck on the phone with you, I want to be talking with you and try to help you in any way I can. And yes, I’m sure.”

You contemplated it, turning it over and over in your brain. This was why you called. This was why you decided to give the helpline a try, to speak to a stranger who would listen and possibly be able to help you and if not, at least maybe understand where you were coming from. If he was willing (and he had been helpful so far), then why not?

“Would it help if I promise not to make any more Star Wars references?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Tremendously.” 

“Deal,” he laughed. You liked the sound of his laugh; it was warm, inviting, and put you instantly at ease. This CJ seemed to know what he was doing and you could now see why people called in to speak to him and other counselors like him. 

You nervously licked your lips and decided to take the plunge. You told him everything. You told him about how it started when you began college, how the classes and workload immediately overwhelmed you. How you struggled to keep from drowning in assignments and tests and projects and papers. How you started to develop these episodes and how badly you felt during them. How you had tried to talk to your parents but they just didn’t seem to hear you, dismissing it as an issue that would be resolved by you being more outgoing and feeling more grateful that you had such an educational opportunity when many didn’t. How you could be in a room full of a hundred people and still feel completely alone, especially when an episode kicked in. You’d even told him about your failed attempt at attending the frat party. He had rarely talked, giving you the floor, but he had interjected a couple of times to either support you or make some helpful suggestions. Other than that, he just listened. By the time you finished, you felt like you had told him your whole life story, but you had to admit that you felt a lot better once you got it all off your chest, which incidentally, was feeling lighter. And this time, someone listened and actually heard you. That made all the difference.

You glanced at the clock for the first time in a long time and noted it was 10:16. Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped, your cheeks immediately heating up. Had you really been talking nonstop for over three hours? “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize it was so late. I should let you go so you can speak to other callers.”

“My shift ended fifteen minutes ago actually.”

Your heart stopped and however much better you’d been feeling, felt like it went right down the drain. How could you have been so self-absorbed and only concerned with your problems that you’d talked his ear off and used up his whole shift? Not one other person got to talk to him tonight and you didn’t even go to that school. Seriously, how selfish were you? “I-I’m so, so sorry. You should have stopped me or told me there was a time limit per call.” You were full on babbling now. “I didn’t mean to— I am so beyond sorry. I’m going to let you go. Thank you so much for your help and I hope you have a good rest of your night. Don’t worry. I promise I won’t call again. Good night.”

You went to hang up the phone when you heard loudly, “Please don’t hang up.”

You put it back to your ear, your brows drawing together in confusion. “But you said your shift was over.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “But that’s okay. If I wanted you to stop talking, I would have said something. And did I ask you to stop?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Then I didn’t want you to stop talking. It seems like there’s a lot on your plate at the moment or else you wouldn’t have called, right?”

“Okay, yeah. But—”

“So it’s good that you called and I’m glad I was able to help. And for the record, there’s no time limit on a call.” Someone said something to him in the background and he quietly responded though you couldn’t hear what he said. “I’m actually gonna get going because my replacement is here and they don’t have another place to sit.” 

“Right. Of course. Again, sorry.”

“But,” he continued. “I’m going to be here Monday afternoon around 2 so if you want to call back then we can talk again.”

“I have class then.” You truly did but even if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be calling him back. You had taken up enough of his time.

“I’m here until 6:00 that day.”

“I have a study session after that class.” Okay, maybe that was a lie. “But I appreciate the offer. Thank you and have a good—”

“I’m back on again next Friday. Same time. Why don’t you call me then if you’re free?”

“I appreciate it, CJ, but don’t worry. If I need the helpline again, I’ll call, but you helped me a lot tonight and I feel better so…I won’t need to call. Again, I’m sorry I monopolized your shift.”

“Do me a favor and call me again anyway, even if you are feeling better. I’d like to check in with you and the only way I can do that is if you call me back.”

“Right. Being anonymous and all,” you mumbled. Thank God for that. You didn’t think your embarrassment at talking his head off for over three hours while you complained about your life would ever go away.

“Yeah. So, please, if you can call me next week, same time, even if you just tell me you’re feeling better and hang up. That’s all I ask.”

You supposed you could do that, after he’d generously taken the time to hear you out, after he’d helped you through your episode. “Okay.”

“Friday, 7:00. Promise me.”

“I promise,” you whispered.

And so had begun the tradition of you calling him every Friday night at 7:00. You hadn’t intended for that to happen, honestly. But each time you would talk to him, ranging in times from twenty minutes to an hour and a half (you refused to ever get near that three hour mark again, no matter what he said), he would always ask you to call him back the following week, making you promise that you would. Over time, you noticed that your overwhelmed feeling had lessened considerably (though not completely gone) and instead of having an episode (or panic attack as CJ called them) twice weekly, they had now diminished to one every couple of weeks. And even then they weren’t as bad as they had been, thanks to the techniques CJ suggested you try using. Things had gotten better for you and you had to admit, the helpline definitely was a useful service for students, though for your own personal experience, you attributed a lot of that to CJ.

Speaking of which, that was how you two began to get to know one another, moving from strictly counselor and caller into a tentative friendship. When initially speaking to him, he began to feel like a friend you were just catching up with on how your past week had been, and then it actually sort of became that. He started to tell you more details about himself and now you knew what type of music he liked, what he was majoring in, where he had grown up, and why he had joined The Stand. He had even shared his backstory with you and why he didn’t drink when you told him how uncomfortable college parties made you in general. The conversation was no longer one-sided and you’d come to like it that way.

Until the day came when he asked your name. 

“My name?”

“Well, yeah, so I know what to call you. It feels weird calling you “you” all the time,” he laughed.

“Um…” You were practically crapping bricks. You didn’t expect this.

“Just your first name. You’ll still be anonymous,” he reassured. “It could be a nickname if you want. Or your middle name. Just something.”

You ran over it in your mind. What if he still somehow managed to find out who you were if you gave him only your first name? Sure, you weren’t going to the same schools, but what if somehow someway…? Plus, your friends weren’t exactly fans of CJ right now. Apparently, Jen had a major crush on him but her hopes were dashed when he told her he didn’t date (something he had told you long before you heard it via your friends) and then hooked up with Audrey the same night. You hadn’t been there that night, opting to stay in and study for a huge test you had coming up in your Lit class, and after hearing that not only had CJ been present but also what happened, you were glad you had made that decision. Audrey and Joey were on the outs thanks to the events of that night and now so were Jen and Audrey once it was revealed that CJ and Audrey had slept together, right before Pacey punched his face in. 

When that Friday rolled around, you almost didn’t call him. You were angry and hurt yourself. Angry because his careless actions had hurt more than one of your friends, and hurt because truth be told, you had started to crush on him yourself from afar. You trusted him with the details of your life, very personal details (without giving specifics obviously), and he’d helped you. How could he be this helpful, compassionate guy working at a helpline but turn out to be this scummy, advantage-taking, selfish player? You couldn’t reconcile in your head the CJ you were getting to know with the CJ your friends saw.

“That’s just the thing, Y/N,” Jen told you when you wondered aloud how a helpline counselor could do something like he had with your friends. “Most people who go into those positions to help other people are usually a thousand times more screwed up than the people they’re helping. Audrey’s been hurting, as you know, and she’s been acting out and he saw an opportunity. Case closed.” But it wasn’t case closed for you. Not by a mile. You wanted answers, but how could you get them while remaining anonymous?

So that following Friday at 7:00, as you angrily punched in the helpline number, you had no idea how you would do it but you were determined to get them. And if you didn’t like what you heard, then this would be your last call and you would close the book on CJ and your budding friendship for good.

It caught you off guard, though, when you heard a different voice this time.

“Hello, Helpline. This is David.”

You nearly hung up. You knew David; he was starting to hang out with your group more and more, especially Jack. What if he recognized your voice?

“Hello?”

You forced yourself to ask the burning question on the tip of your tongue, albeit with a slightly higher pitch of voice. “Hi, is CJ there?”

“No, I’m sorry.” You covered the mouthpiece with your hand and let out a sigh of relief. Whether it was because David didn’t recognize you or you didn’t have to confront CJ right this second, you couldn’t be sure. Probably a bit of both. “He called out sick and asked me to fill in for him. He should be back next week, though.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll call then. Thank you.” You quickly hung up before he could ask you anything else.

The next Friday you called, you got CJ.

“Hey,” he greeted, sounding relieved when he heard your voice. “How are you?”

“I’m okay.” You were standing in your dorm room, staring out the window and watching the rain, your arms crossed. You weren’t as angry as last week, the extra time allowing you to let a cooler head prevail, but you still wanted answers. “How are you?”

“Honestly? I’ve been better.”

“I’m sorry. I know you were sick last week. Has it not gotten any better?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m sorry about that. I was feeling lousy and just needed to take a day, you know?” And he didn’t need to be parading around a still-healing black eye that might prompt questions, you bet. 

“I get that.”

“God, I wish I had your number outside of this so I could call you.” Your jaw tightened. Perhaps your friends were right; there was a whole other side to him. A side you didn’t really want to get to know. “I really could’ve used a friend to talk to.”

You unclenched your jaw when you realized he wasn’t hitting on you and when you thought about it, he sounded genuinely miserable and he never had in any of your previous conversations, even when your friendship formed. It was unlike him, or at least the CJ you had gotten to know. Just like this behavior your friends had told you about sounded unlike him. “Well, I’m here now, if you want to talk.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make this about me. You called in to talk, not to hear about my problems,” he laughed, sounding nervous. That was a first.

“I’m sure. What are friends for?”

He told you everything while not naming anyone. He didn’t hold back anything and you realized that while he didn’t know who you were, he was giving you the side that had been missing from the story your friends told you: his side. Every side has a story after all. He admitted he had messed up big time. He had hurt Jen (or Blondie as he called her), he had been an ass to Pacey (or The Guy Who Punched My Face) when he had no right to be, and he should have never hooked up with Audrey (or The Girl That Came Out of Nowhere). Apparently, Jen had said to him the same thing she said to you and it got him thinking, along with some things Audrey had said. He felt like a huge jerk and all he wanted to do was keep his head down and move forward, get back on the right track that his life had been headed in. You stayed silent as he talked and before you knew it, the clock read 9:47. 

“Your shift is over soon,” you whispered once he was done.

“Yeah, but I still have a few minutes. So what do you think? Am I a complete jackass or what?” He let out another nervous chuckle.

You briefly pressed your lips together as you thought of how best to answer that. In the end, you were as honest as you could be without giving yourself away. “I think we all make mistakes sometimes. But as long as we recognize them, apologize to those we’ve hurt, and try to do better, then that’s all that matters. So no, not a complete jackass.” 

This time when he laughed, it sounded relieved. “Thanks.”

“Of course. That’s what I’m here for,” you repeated his words back to him, teasing him slightly.

A moment of silence passed between you before he asked, “Will you call again next week?”

That made you do a double take. He never asked you to call the following week like that. Usually he asked in the form of making you promise you would call or he’d tell you he’d talk to you the following week. But when he asked like this, he sounded uncertain, vulnerable. You knew then that more than just his face and ego had been hurt by recent events. Perhaps you were a fool but you believed his remorse to be genuine. 

“Yeah,” you assured him. “I’ll call next week.”

And when you did, he immediately hit you with the name question. 

“Earth to you…” He called, snapping you out of it and reclaiming your attention. “See? It doesn’t really work,” he laughed.

You had to be careful here. Not only because you didn’t want him to find out who you were but also because if your friends ever found out, especially Audrey…you were toast. 

You opened your mouth to give him the name of a classmate that couldn’t be traced back to you but “Jo” came tumbling out instead.

“Jo?”

Oh crap. You had Audrey and then Joey on your mind and it just slipped out. Crap, crap, crap. “Yeah,” you lied. “Jo.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jo.” You could practically hear him smiling, happy to have gotten a name out of you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, angry with yourself. “Nice to meet you, too,” you mumbled before you dropped your head into your hands.  

So now here you were, him thinking you were Jo from the college he was attending, and you were calling him every single week at the same time like clock work. You had long ago stopped questioning the morality of what you were doing and it seemed that he didn’t appear to question it at all. He was always happy to hear from you and your conversations were more personal now. You couldn’t deny the way your heart rate spiked every time you heard his voice when he picked up the call or how whenever his name was mentioned in passing by David or Jen (though rare these days), you would specifically tune in, listening for anything that had to do with him. You had it bad and you knew it, but it was also a safe crush from a distance and would be staying that way.

You shook your head, snapping yourself out of your reverie and remembered CJ has asked you a question. “I’m good. Really good. How about you?”

“Really good, huh? I’m happy to hear it and happy to be hearing from you.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, I got that paper back and you were so right, The Writing Center really helped. I can’t believe I never thought to try it before. Thank you so much for that idea.”

“I’m happy to be of service,” he chuckled. “I’m glad it helped. And the club thing? Did you give that a try as well?”

Your smile dropped. He had been trying to urge you to join a club or a group where you had shared interests with other students. His theory was that if you gave a small group of people a shot doing a social activity you might enjoy, that it might help decrease your nervousness in other social settings. Even though you told him you had a group of friends you regularly met up with, he didn’t think expanding your social circles would be a bad thing to consider. “No? I told you, CJ, that’s not really my thing.”

“I get that, I do. How about this? If you want, I could meet you at Student Activities and we could take a look around together, get some info. No pressure, of course, but you wouldn’t have to walk in there alone. I know it can be a bit much sometimes. I remember my first semester here and I didn’t know where to stick my head.”

You froze. That was the first time he’d ever mentioned the possibility of you meeting in person. Perhaps if you were really Jo from Boston Bay College, you could take him up on it or give him your number like he’d asked you for or call his room number like he’d offered up a few times now so you could talk outside of the helpline. But you weren’t and so you had to decline. “I appreciate the offer but it’s not my thing so I’m going to have to pass. Sorry, but thank you, though.” 

“If you’re sure.” He sounded slightly disappointed but maybe that was just you imagining it. 

“Yep, I’m sure. Uh, so listen, I can’t stay on long. My roommate and her boyfriend will be here in less than ten so I’m gonna go so I can get out of here before I get hit by the clothes hurricane that’s most likely to happen.” It was a complete lie. Your roommate, Stacey, had actually gone to visit her boyfriend for the weekend. You would have peace and quiet and the dorm to yourself for two whole days. 

He chuckled good-naturedly. “I don’t blame you. If you get bored later, I’m here at The Stand until 10:00, like you already know, and then I’ll be back in my room. You can call me then if you want to talk. I”ll be up for a while so don’t worry about calling too late.”

“Oh. Thanks. Maybe I’ll do that.” You weren’t going to and he knew you weren’t going to. You hadn’t the last two times he’d made the same offer and the last two times you’d given him the same response.

“Jo?”

“Yeah?”

“If I don’t hear from you… Call next week, okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed, smiling, like always. You said your quick goodbyes and you hung up, letting out a heavy breath. While he had been urging you to contact him personally, he had never mentioned meeting him before. That was different. And it worried you at the same time. Why the offer now? Granted, he was just trying to be helpful to you, given the context, but what if he began to find other ways to work it in like he already had about your phone numbers? What if he continued to push to meet Jo? 

You shook your head, telling yourself that you were doing it again, worrying over things that might not happen. You would cross that bridge when you came to it, something CJ had once said to you that you kept for yourself as your own personal mantra. You would wait to see how next week would go.

But unfortunately, the call never happened.

You had been out with Jack and David on Thursday night at Hell’s Kitchen, when Jen waltzed in, smiling and taking a seat. Joey and Emma were working and Pacey was supposed to join you later.

“You worked late today,” Jack commented. 

“Training took a little bit longer than expected. We were supposed to be done at 6:00 but then our relief called and said they were going to be late. Of course, since CJ was going to stay, I wasn’t going to just leave him there.” Your ears perked up at the mention of CJ. You knew Jen was training as a counselor and he was the one training her. Jen had begrudgingly forgiven CJ but it was also obvious to you all that she still had a crush on him. While you couldn’t blame her, you also felt for her. CJ told you that he had to make it clear once more to Blondie that he wasn’t looking to date though he was happy she had finally started training at the helpline. He really believed she would make a great counselor once she settled into it. 

Talk about complicated. Jen was your friend and you didn’t want to see her get hurt, but you could also understand if CJ didn’t see her that way, he just didn’t. They were both your friends now and you just wanted them both to be happy, whatever that looked like.

“But then, listen to this,” she continued. “Our relief, this guy named Seth, sees me there with CJ and starts teasing him about how he’s racking up all of these beautiful girls through the helpline, not leaving any for him.”

“Jen,” Jack warned. 

“No, listen. This is good. You’re going to like this.” 

Jack sighed but let her finish.

“CJ laughs it off but then Seth mentions how he has this girl calling him every Friday night, around the same time, and she talks his ear off for hours.”

You were about to take a bite of your french fry when you froze. Your heart dropped down to your feet. 

“And so I ask if this is true and CJ says that we’re there to help everybody, time limits aren’t a thing, and it doesn’t matter how many times a caller calls back or they speak to the same counselor. As long as they get the help they need.”

“He’s right,” David chimed in.

“But then Seth starts teasing him again and asks if CJ can give him tips on how to get dates using the helpline. CJ laughs and says sure. I mention how he said he wasn’t looking to date and Seth says he tells every girl that so he doesn’t have to commit but can still get what he wants.” You dropped your fry back into your basket, trying to ignore the rolling nausea in your stomach. 

“I don’t know about that,” David chuckled nervously.

“He didn’t deny it, David. He just laughed and walked away. Can you believe it? He’s using the helpline to get girls. Talk about abusing the system, not to mention the absolute lack of morality.” You definitely felt like you were going to be sick. “I quit. If that’s what guys like him and Seth are using that helpline for then I don’t want any part of it. And CJ? Audrey was right. He’s a skeevy player. I can’t believe I didn’t see it this whole time.” Jen shook her head. You were getting that all-too familiar falling feeling again. 

“Wait, seriously? Guys are using the helpline to pick up girls?” Jack turned to David.

“No. Jen, I’m sure Seth was just kidding and CJ was just playing along. Nobody is using the helpline to pick anyone up. Everyone that works there knows the rules and they’re there to help callers. How could they pick anyone up, anyway? It’s all anonymous.”

“Yeah, but if they pushed for a date or something… It could happen.” You immediately felt your stomach jolt and like someone had punched you in the gut at the same time.

“It could,” David agreed. “But I doubt it does.”

“He has the same girl calling him every single week at the same time. What would keep her calling like that?” Jen interjected. You glanced away from the table for a moment, not sure if you wanted to hear the answer David would give.

“Is that true? Every week?” Jack asked in disbelief.

“It’s true,” David confirmed. “I actually got her once when CJ was out sick. She sounded nice.” If you could have, you would have given him a smile, thankful for David’s attempt to defend CJ and the helpline and unknowingly you. But right then, you were trying not to hyperventilate. “And CJ appears to be helping her. He said she’s made a lot of progress since they started talking.”

“He talked to you about her?” Jen looked shocked. Oh God. Your chest started to feel tight.

“Only because he was going to be out sick that one day and in case she called and then decided to talk to me, he wanted me to be up to speed in case she needed something. That’s all.”

“I feel badly for this girl. She probably thinks CJ is some great guy and she can trust him but based on what Seth said, he’s simply playing the long game with her. A girl whose trust he’s taking advantage of. I’m telling you, Audrey was right about him and I should’ve seen it.” Jen rubbed at her forehead. It was beyond hot in here and even though it wasn’t crowded, the room started to feel smaller.

“I don’t think that’s true, Jen,” David defended. “I don’t think he’s looking to take advantage of this girl at all. I think he truly wants to help her.”

“Yeah, that’s how it started with Audrey and look at how that turned out.” David dropped his gaze to his food, continuing to poke at it with his fork. There wasn’t much he could say to that though he wished he still would. “And if that’s true, he only wants to help her, then why was he laughing along when Seth talked about her and how she keeps him on the phone for hours? How is that helping her?”

You felt like your feet were locked in cement but your legs were wobbling to and fro. And yet you also felt like a large boulder was now sitting on your chest, making it difficult to breathe. How could any of this conversation be happening right now?

Jack glanced from David to Jen. “Perhaps David’s right, Jen. Maybe he was just playing along. That’s what guys do sometimes. You know that.”

“I don’t think that’s what that was. Either way, I quit.”

Jack and David started to urge her not to quit, but at that point you’d had enough. Your hands were clammy and you felt that feeling on your forehead, too. You needed cold, and air. “Excuse me,” you nearly rasped out and beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom. You could feel your dinner coming back up. Joey stopped you in your trek.

“Hey, Y/N, are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

You shook your head and dodged past her, hurrying to the bathroom. Once you reached it, you locked the door and pushed into a stall just in time. You emptied the contents of your stomach and once you were finished, you made your way towards the sink, splashing cold water on your face. You could feel the panic attack you were having and you tried your best to ward it off but to no avail.

You slid down the wall and struggled to breathe, trying the techniques CJ had taught you. You didn’t want to think about him right now but you also didn’t want to be having this happen while your friends sat right outside. Not to mention, you knew Joey was going to come check on you. You gasped for air and rubbed at your chest. Once it passed, you unlocked the door, made excuses to Joey and your friends, went home, showered, and cried yourself to sleep. For the first time in a while, you’d had a particularly bad episode and ended the night in tears: two things you hadn’t done since you’d started talking to CJ regularly. You felt as if all the progress you’d made was like a house of cards that fell to the ground after one card was pulled out from under you. And all because you’d trusted the wrong person. 

So you stopped calling and instead, spent your Friday nights at the library, studying, so you wouldn’t be tempted to pick up the phone and call to confront the guy who’d betrayed your trust.

A few weeks later, you were sitting on Joey’s bed, watching Audrey unload her closet onto her mattress. Apparently, she was going to rehab, for real this time. She was ready to confront the fact that her drinking was out of control. Joey was helping her sort through everything and handed you things to fold and place in her suitcase. Eddie had already taken one heavy suitcase down to the car, along with a very high Bob. 

You all looked up when there was a polite knock on their dorm room door. Joey got up to answer it, most likely thinking it was Eddie, but when she opened the door, it revealed another guy altogether.

There stood CJ, in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with a jacket covering his tall frame. Your heart skipped a beat before falling into your stomach but then leaping back into place and pounding faster than before for a whole other reason. You immediately grabbed a magazine from the nightstand and began sifting through it, your jaw clenched and you refusing to look in his direction.

Before anyone could say a word, Audrey groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw CJ hold up a placating hand in her direction. “I’m not here for you, okay? I’m actually looking for someone.”

You froze.

“I bet you are,” Audrey grumbled.

Joey crossed her arms. “Who?”

“A girl by the name of Jo who lives in this building.”

You mentally cursed yourself. You knew you had let the name of your dorm building slip once by accident but he hadn’t appeared to have heard you so you thought you were in the clear; apparently, he had heard you. Crap.

Joey tensed. Uh oh. You had a feeling this was going to come back to haunt you at some point. Here it was. “Why are you looking for me?”

CJ’s brow drew together. “You’re Jo?”

Audrey was suddenly at Joey’s side. “Yeah, why are you looking for her?”

“Jo is a girl who called the helpline. I haven’t heard from her in a few weeks and I just wanted to check on her.”

Her distaste for CJ forgotten, Audrey turned in shock to her roommate. “Joey Potter, you called the helpline?”

“What? No. Don’t be ridiculous, Audrey.” Joey then looked at CJ. “I don’t know who this girl is but it’s not me. Good luck in your search.” She went to close the door but CJ stopped her.

“Wait, so you’ve never heard of a girl named Jo who lives in this building?”

“No,” Audrey snapped. “Now, go away.”

“Hold on a second. Because Joanna Martin who lives on the 2nd floor isn’t her and has never heard of her. Now you’re saying you’re not her and you’ve never heard of her either?”

Audrey gave him a nasty smirk. “Imagine that. A girl using a fake name calling an anonymous helpline. She probably knows what a sleazeball you are and didn’t want you stalking her. If she was calling the helpline, she’s probably got enough on her plate. Best of luck, Stalker Boy.”

Audrey went to shut the door in his face but again, he stopped it.

“I don’t really care what you think of me. You want to think I’m the bad guy in everything that happened with us? That’s fine. But I’m actually trying to find this girl to help her.”

“Help her into your bed, you mean.”

His jaw clenched. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, I bet it is but whatever.” Audrey rolled her eyes and turned back to you. “Y/N, have you ever heard of this girl he’s looking for?”

Your eyes snapped up to them and all three of them were now staring at you, waiting for your answer. Crap. CJ was looking right at you. Double crap. You shook your head and went back to your magazine. 

“There you go. No one here has heard of her. Buh-bye now.” 

Audrey was closing the door when Joey’s phone started to ring. Joey, who had gone back into the whirlwind of clothes, looked over at you. “Hey, can you get that? Eddie might be calling from his cell phone.”

You nodded and picked up the line. “Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N. Can I talk to Joey? Audrey’s friend, Bob, is getting a little impatient down here.”

“Sure. One sec.” You handed the phone to Joey. “It’s Eddie.” She took it and began rolling her eyes when Eddie was most likely telling her the same thing he had just told you. She came over, zipped up the suitcase you had been working on after dumping more things into it. “Do you mind taking this to Eddie downstairs? He’ll meet you in the lobby.”

“Sure thing.” You tossed the magazine back onto the night stand and grabbed the suitcase handle, picking it up and placing it on its wheels. You slipped your worn paperback copy of your book into the back pocket of your jeans, intent on returning it to your room when you came back up. Now that you knew CJ was trying to track you down and he was in the building, you didn’t feel comfortable having any clues pointing to your identity out in the open like that. 

You grabbed the tail of the suitcase and began to pull it along. “Oh my God, Aud. Do you really need this many outfits?” 

She looked up from her cell phone and gave you a smile. “Of course. Rehab is bound to be drab so I’m going to make it fab.” She shot you a wink and opened the door for you. 

You laughed and shook your head, crossing over the threshold. You made your way to the elevator and pushed the button. While you were waiting, you heard behind you, “Need some help with that?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin. CJ was right there, behind you, talking directly to you. While a part of you wanted to tell him to take a hike, your desire for anonymity was greater. You turned and gave him a wan smile, shaking your head. His green eyes were intent on you and you didn’t care for that one bit. It was like he knew who you were without you even having to say it. Luckily, at that moment, the elevator dinged and the door opened. You went to roll the suitcase onto it when a hand picked it up out of nowhere.

“Let me give you a hand,” CJ offered, not waiting for you to reply and stepping into the elevator. You paused for a moment, considering not getting onto it with him but Eddie was expecting you and Joey and Audrey were waiting for you to come back. You let out a quiet sigh and stepped inside, hitting the button for the Lobby and waiting for the doors to close.

Once they did and you started descending, CJ glanced over at you. “So, Jo, were you planning on ever calling me again?”

Your heart started to pound but you forced yourself to remain cool as a cucumber, hoping he wouldn’t recognize your voice. You arched a questioning brow up at him. “I don’t know who you think I am but my name’s Y/N. Sorry to disappoint.” You turned back to the door.

“The Green Mile book in your back pocket says otherwise.”

Crap. You tried to think quickly. “That’s just a book I’m reading for class.” You decided to channel Audrey, the queen of mean when she wanted to be; perhaps that would get him to leave you alone. The doors were opening and you turned to give him a smirk. “NIce try, though, Sherlock. Better get back to Watson before he misses you.” You grabbed the tail of the suitcase and nearly stormed out of the elevator. 

CJ was suddenly at your side. “I know it’s you. Why are you trying so hard to act like it’s not?”

You shook your head, choosing to ignore him. Thankfully, Eddie came into sight, rushing to get the suitcase. 

“Thank you, thank you.” He picked it up and gave you a look. “About how many more of these are coming down, do you think?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. She has a lot of outfits. Joey’s got her work cut out for her.”

Eddie groaned and then noticed CJ standing next to you. “Good to see you again, man.”

“Likewise.”

Eddie glanced between you and CJ before walking away. Great. He was bound to mention that to Joey who would most likely question you about it later thanks to CJ’s impromptu appearance earlier. You spun on your heel and headed back to the elevator, punching the button.  

CJ was suddenly next to you. “What happened? Why did you stop calling?” He quietly asked you. 

You didn’t answer him, just kept staring straight ahead, your jaw clenched.

He leaned in slightly, his voice even quieter. “Did I make you nervous by offering to meet you? I was only trying to help. Nothing funny, I promise.”

When the doors opened, you stepped inside and of course, he followed you. The doors closed and your ride up began. 

“Are you going to talk to me or just keep ignoring me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know your voice. It’s you.” After another quiet moment, he begged, “Would you please just talk to me? What happened?”

You shook your head.

“Something obviously happened to make you stop calling. So, talk to me. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

You glared over at him. “Again, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now please stop bothering me.” CJ looked as if you’d slapped him for a moment and you felt guilty but then you immediately remembered what Jen had said that night at the bar. 

He gave you a curt nod and turned to face the door. Once it opened, you went to step out when he lifted the book out of your back pocket. 

“Hey! Give that back!” He held it out of your reach, opening it to find the note from your dad on the inside page that he’d written after he bought it for you. Why did you have to mention that in your phone conversations? That was a dead giveaway that yes, Jo was indeed you. How could you have been so stupid?

CJ gestured to the note. “Tell me again how it’s not you.”

You snatched the book out of his hands and hurried down the hall to your room. You would’ve gone back to Audrey’s and Joey’s room, but you were afraid he’d out you to them. Even if they didn’t believe him, you still remembered Audrey’s reaction when she thought it might be Joey for a moment and the latter’s response. 

“Y/N, wait,” CJ begged behind you. “Please, can we just talk for a minute?” You were unlocking your door when he was right next to you. “Just one minute. Please. That’s all I’m asking. Then, if you want, you’ll never see or hear from me again.”

You mulled it over for a moment. You could do one minute, you supposed, and get this over with. You glanced up at him and nodded, pretending not to see the relief that filled his expression. You opened the door and then held it open wider for him to follow.

You saw your roommate sitting on her bed, talking on the phone to her boyfriend. “Stace,” you interrupted. “Can you give us a minute?”

She frowned. “I’m kind of in the middle of—”

“I need the room.” Your tone brooked no argument. You surprised her; usually, you kept to yourself and never really stood up to her if she got mean or demanding. But you were not in the mood for any of her crap right then. You were at your limit.

Stacey scoffed but got to her feet. “One second, babe.” She glared at you, which you were more than happy to return, and then turned it onto CJ as well. “Boys aren’t allowed to stay up here so make it quick. You know the rules.”

You huffed out a snort. “The rule you break almost every other night? Got it, Stace, thanks for looking out.” You practically shut the door in her scowling face. You turned to find CJ’s eyes trained on you.

“So that’s the roommate, huh?” You shrugged. “Exactly how I pictured her, scowl and everything.”

You didn’t laugh at his joke and instead, crossed your arms. “You wanted to talk?”

He pressed his lips together and thrust his hands into his jacket pockets. “Why did you stop calling?”

You wanted to tell him the truth but it also seemed best to just get him out of there as soon as possible. He knew who you really were now and that was a problem. Especially if your friends found out you were the girl that had been calling him every week. Because sooner or later, they would want to know why and you weren’t ready to talk about that or have them look at you funny. You knew they’d be supportive, especially Joey and Audrey, but you also knew things would change. And you weren’t quite ready for that to happen. 

“I’ve been doing better so there was no need. You should know, you made me your pet project after all.” You didn’t mean to be harsh but you were still angry. 

His brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“You know. I’m the girl who calls you every week to talk your ear off and keeps you on the phone for hours. The girl you’ve supposedly been trying to pick up through the helpline, though apparently I’m not the only one.”

His eyes widened. “Y/N, that’s not true at all. I don’t use the helpline to pick up girls or try to get dates. I don’t date, you know I don’t. I don’t know who told you that but it’s not true.”

“But the other part is?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Because that’s how your buddy Seth put it, the way Jen tells it.”

CJ huffed out a mirthless laugh, rubbing at his forehead and giving a nod. “Jen. That’s who you heard this from.”

“Don’t even,” you snapped. “David also mentioned how you told him all about me and my issues.” You used quotation marks on the last word.

His hand dropped. “Okay, first off, you don’t have issues, no more than anybody else around here, myself included. Second, I only told David because I was going to be out that one night. I wanted to make sure if you called in that you were taken care of. That’s it. David is one of our better counselors, he’s a friend, and I trust him completely.”

Your jaw tightened. “That still doesn’t explain why Seth would even say anything like that. And you laughed! You stood there and laughed as this guy, who I don’t know by the way, is turning me calling you for help into a joke! Is that what I am? The joke at the office? Does everyone there know how I’ve been calling you every week and boring you to death with my problems?”

“What? No! You’re not a joke. And you’re not—”

“Really? Because it sure sounded like it to me based on what Jen said.”

“Okay, let’s get something straight. You’re not boring me to death when you call, you’re not talking my ear off, or keeping me stuck on the phone with you, or anything else that someone else might have said. I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to be there for you and try to help. Then when we started talking about more than that, I wanted to talk to you even more. If I didn’t want to talk to you at all, if you were such a nuisance, then why would I ask you to call back every week or give you my phone number even?”

“But you weren’t trying to pick me up.”

“No, I wasn’t. I wanted to be available to you if you needed to talk to me outside of the hours I had at The Stand.”

“Yeah, because I was your pet project.”

“No, you weren’t and why do you keep saying that?”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not.” 

“Isn’t that what you do, though? Isn’t that why you tracked me down? Isn’t that why you kept trying to get my number and even suggested we meet though the helpline’s supposed to be anonymous? You look for girls who are messed up and try to be their white knight. It gives you some sort of satisfaction, some twisted sense of purpose… That’s what happened with Audrey, right?” Again, he looked like you slapped him but this time, you didn’t feel guilty. You were only speaking the truth. He had told you how much he wanted to help Audrey and how somehow they ended up in bed together and before he knew it, he really liked her and wanted to see more of her. In the end, he’d admitted to you that it might have been him confusing his desire to help her with his interest in her. That maybe Audrey had been right in what she’d said.

You watched as his shoulders deflated slightly and he let out a heavy breath, hanging his head. You bit your lip and glanced away from him, not wanting to see him look so defeated. You had to be strong, you had to stand up for yourself and not let him or anyone else take advantage of you. That was the silent vow you’d made to yourself after you’d cried yourself to sleep that night you found out how you were being used and made a mockery of.

“I tracked you down because I was worried,” he spoke softly. You turned back to find him staring at you, remorse radiating from him. You felt slightly bad for hurting him but you had said nothing but the truth, from his own lips. “It wasn’t like you not to call so I thought maybe something happened or maybe I made you nervous with that last call. Like I said, I gave you my number because I wanted to be there for you anytime you needed me, even if I wasn’t working. So this way you always had a way to get a hold of me if you needed to. I only asked for yours because I did like talking to you and I thought we were becoming friends. I know that’s not the norm for the helpline and it’s never happened before, to me or to anyone else that I know of, but like I said, I enjoyed talking to you. I only offered to meet you at Student Activities that day because you seemed nervous to try it alone and I didn’t want you to feel like that. I would’ve made that offer to anyone that needed it.” He nervously licked his lips. “I do like you but it has nothing to do with my wanting to help you or make sure you’re okay. I made a mistake with Audrey but I learned from it. I told you that.” He sighed before continuing. “I like you, Y/N, because you’re funny and smart and kind. Even if we didn’t meet through the helpline, I still would have liked you once I got to talk to you, once I got to know you better. That’s the truth.”

He turned to leave when he stopped suddenly. “By the way, Seth is the guy who usually relieves me on Friday nights. That’s how he knew about you calling every week. He always liked to razz me about being on the phone with you since I made him fifteen minutes late for his shift that one time. I only laughed because it was obvious he was showing off for Jen, that he likes her, and I was trying not to embarrass him in front of her. I did end up talking to him later about it, though, and asked him not to mention it again in front of her or anyone else. He agreed; he’s not a bad guy.” He glanced back at you over his shoulder. “I’m sorry this happened. If you call the helpline again and want to talk to someone else, I understand. If you don’t want to call at all, I understand that, too. Just…take care of yourself, alright?”

You averted your eyes, not wanting him to see the tears building in them, and you gave him a curt nod. You only looked up again when the door snicked closed. You pretended a tear didn’t suddenly roll down your cheek and you told yourself that you had done the right thing. Though it certainly didn’t feel like it in the moment, deep within your chest. 

You stared at your phone, pacing back and forth as you chewed on your thumbnail. It had been almost a month since CJ walked out of your dorm room, leaving you more conflicted than you felt prior to his arrival. You had turned his explanation over and over in your mind so much that you had begun to dream about him every night. You had more panic attacks during that time, to the point where you’d finally taken the plunge and made an appointment to see a therapist. You’d told your parents everything you’d been experiencing, making sure they heard you this time, and told them you needed help. Your mother was still annoyed with you but your father was supportive, especially when you told him that you had a group of friends you met up with pretty regularly. He agreed to help with payments for your therapy. 

You were doing better, just like you had been while talking to CJ, and the therapist had even more techniques in her toolbox that she taught you how to use. You’d even opened up to her about CJ and everything that happened with him. She was the initial reason why you were considering making a call that you hadn’t made in quite a while. 

When you saw the clock hit 7:21, you made your decision. You huffed out a breath, picked up the phone, and dialed the all-too familiar number.

“Hello, Helpline. This is CJ.”

You resumed your pacing, nervous, unsure of how to say what you wanted to.

“Hello?”

You’ve got this.

“Hello?”

Just do it already. Talk to him.

“Listen, if you’re—”

“What are your plans for tomorrow afternoon?” You rushed out before you lost your nerve.

 “Jo?” You appreciated him using your fake name. “Is that you?”

“Well?” You asked.

“Uh, tomorrow? I’m free...”

“Would you…want to get some coffee? Maybe?”

“Coffee, huh?” You could hear the smile in his voice. “Jo, you’re not calling the helpline to ask me out on a coffee date, are you? Because that would be a serious misuse of this valuable resource the college provides,” he teased.       

“Oh. Okay. Well, I’ll just wait until Seth is on shift then and call him up to ask him instead. Thanks, though. Bye.”

“Don’t you dare,” he laughed. You lifted the phone back up to your ear. “What time and what coffee shop?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Got a pen?”

You walked into the coffee shop ten minutes early, intent on getting a table and settling in before CJ arrived. To your surprise, he was already there, waving you over. You approached, feeling your heartbeat speed up with every step. “You’re early.”

“I wanted to make sure we got a good table.” You had a feeling that wasn’t the only reason. The worry shadowing his expression confirmed it. Did he really think you had called him up to ask him to meet you only for you not to show? Then again, you supposed you couldn’t blame him.

“Good thinking.” You gestured towards the line with your thumb. “I’m going to get some coffee. Do you want anything?”

He was immediately on his feet. “I’ll get it. You sit down. You still like lattes?”

You gave him a small smile and nodded; he remembered. 

He returned your smile. “Okay. Here, take a seat. I’ll be back in a minute.” You watched him walk over to the line as you did just that. 

You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous, but you were taking your therapist’s advice. You were moving your friendship with CJ away from the helpline and out into the real world. You were giving him another chance while also allowing both of you to start over. If CJ agreed to, that is.

A few minutes later, he returned and placed your cup in front of you. You gave him a smile of thanks and waited for him to join you.

“So,” he started once he was settled. “You called in.”

“Only to ask you to meet me,” you pointed out.

The corner of his lips tipped up in a genuine smile. “I’m glad you did.”

“Me, too.” And you meant it. You were happy he’d said yes. “I actually asked you to meet me because I wanted to thank you.”

His brows drew together. “Thank me?”

You nodded and began to tell him about all of the recent developments in your life, including therapy. You also apologized for how harsh you’d been the last time you saw each other but he waved it off, saying you didn’t need to and he understood. He listened intently and his smile grew when you mentioned how the therapy was helping and your panic attacks were starting to lessen. 

“I’m really happy to hear it, Y/N, and I’m glad you’re doing better.”

You bit at your lip, feeling nervous about speaking this next part. “It wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t helped me the way you did, especially that first night. So, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he murmured.

Your heart began to pound against your rib cage but you bravely surged forward and kissed his cheek. When you sat back in your chair, his eyes were wide and you felt your face get hot. “Sorry. I just really wanted to do that for a long time. I hope that was okay.”

He grinned. “More than okay.” You felt relief sweep through you. “I was just thinking—”

“I know. You’re not dating, and we’re friends. Don’t worry, I understand.”

He studied you for a moment before speaking again. “I was going to say ‘I was just thinking what a coincidence because there’s something I’ve wanted to do for a really long time, too.’” His hand gently covered yours and he slowly leaned in, giving you time to pull away or tell him to stop. You weren’t going to do either. 

His lips brushed gently against yours and you felt a thrill rush through you at the contact. You had imagined kissing him so many times but the fantasy did absolutely no justice to the real thing. When you broke apart but he didn’t lean back right away, he murmured, “Was that okay?”

“More than okay,” you whispered before pulling him back into you, both of you grinning like idiots before your lips connected again.

You stopped, seeing the front of the building you were about to go into. “Are you sure we should be doing this?” You asked nervously.

CJ turned back to you and gave you a reassuring smile before cupping your cheek and kissing you. “Yes. We should.”

“But—”

“Everything’s going to be fine,” he assured you. “Trust me. I’m right here with you, okay?” He pecked your lips one more time, tightened his hold on your hand, and began pulling you forward. 

“Okay.” You didn’t sound so sure about this and truthfully, you weren’t.

CJ chuckled and led you inside. The Stand office was decorated with balloons and streamers and there was even confetti on the floor. One of the counselors was leaving since she was soon to graduate and a party was being thrown for her last day. You tried not to get overwhelmed at the amount of people filling the small space. It was overly warm in here and you could barely hear yourself think over the din of multiple conversations going on at once. Somewhere music was playing at a decent level. You noted a room in the back where through the window you could see two people sitting, talking on the phone, a closed door in between them and the noise. 

CJ intertwined your fingers and moved you both towards a group of a few people that he was intent on talking to, people greeting him as he passed. You remembered the techniques you had been taught and tried to put them into action while reminding yourself that you were with CJ and he wasn’t going to abandon you. 

He stopped and greeted the group before he turned to you smiling. “This is Y/N, my girlfriend.”

One of the guys laughed. “Ah, so this is Y/N.” Your heart started hammering inside your chest. “CJ hasn’t shut up about you since you two started dating.” You nearly sighed in relief.

CJ shrugged, grinning down at you. “Seth’s not wrong.”

Your eyes widened before you turned back to the guy. “Oh, so you’re Seth.”

Seth beamed. “Aww, CJ, you told her about me? I just knew we had something special,” he joked.

You frowned. “Hey now. Go get your own CJ. This one’s mine.” You winked up at CJ who laughed. 

He let go of your hand to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you into him. “Definitely yours,” he whispered huskily. 

Seth pretended to gag. “Ugh. Young love. Gross. You can have him, Y/N.”

“Damn right I do,” you laughed as CJ wrapped himself around you from behind and leaned down to kiss your cheek.

From that moment on, it wasn’t so bad. CJ circulated around the room to different groups, introducing you each time. With him by your side, you began to feel more comfortable and you opened up bit by bit. At one point, CJ took your hand and led you away. “I want to show you something.”

“Again?” You teased. “Didn’t you already show me something back in my dorm earlier? Twice?”

“Ha ha. No, this is something different. Though there will definitely be a third time when I get you out of here and back to my place.”

“Ooo. You sure know how to sweet talk a girl, Mr. Braxton.”

He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows playfully, and pulled you into a kiss that left you breathless. “Just a small preview for later.”

“A small preview?” You panted. You just loved teasing him and couldn’t resist.  

He rolled his eyes in amusement. “Come on.”

CJ led you over to a desk and with his free hand, he swiped confetti off of the seat. “This is it. My station,” he told you.

Your eyes roamed over the computer, the keyboard, the notepad and pens, stopping on the corded phone. So this was it. This was where CJ had sat on those Friday nights during your conversations. You smiled to yourself at the memory.

You let out a squeal when CJ quickly sat down in the chair and pulled you into his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck to keep from falling, glaring at his laugh. You softened though when you looked back over the desk. “So this is where you sat on those nights we talked?”

“Uh huh. Though I much prefer you here on this end with me.” He gripped your chin between his fingers and turned you to him, kissing you sweetly. You snuck your fingers into his hair and tilted your head to deepen it, not caring right then about anyone or anything else around you. 

You and CJ had been dating for a while now and it was starting to become serious. He had met your parents when they came to visit. Your dad had liked him right away. Your mom, on the other hand, had given him a bit of a hard time but underneath the harsh exterior she was presenting, you could tell she liked him, too. He had initially planned to transfer to a school in New York, which you more than supported (though you were secretly heartbroken). You reminded him that you had done the phone thing once upon a time and you could do it again, if he wanted. After contemplating it, he decided to stay in Boston. 

“Please don’t tell me you chose to stay because of me. I’m not going anywhere. If it’s a great opportunity for you, you should go. I don’t want you to regret not going.”

He’d simply smiled. “I have a great opportunity right here and I would regret leaving.” He’d kissed your nose. “Besides, Boston’s home.”

“CJ, you should go. I’m almost done and I can come visit you. It’s only a few hours’ drive. You could show me things like the Empire State Building or take me to a museum or a play or show me Times Square.” You’d tried to make it sound enticing but inside it was killing you. Everyone knew long distance relationships had their problems and who knew? Maybe he might meet someone new in the Big Apple. But you also wanted him to do what was right for him, just like you’d spoken with your therapist about. You didn’t want him to resent you later on if he didn’t take this opportunity now and you certainly didn’t want him to have any regrets. “We could even visit Jen and Jack, see how her Grams is doing.”

Jen and Jack had transferred to New York. You had been worried to tell her that you and CJ were dating but while she was a little miffed in the beginning, she was more focused on the developing situation with her grandmother who had been diagnosed with cancer. Eventually, she forgave you before she left and gave you her blessing. You had been relieved; Jen was a good person, a good friend, and you didn’t want to lose her friendship. Jack had been worried about Jen’s reaction but for the most part, he had been fine with it. David was happy for you both. Audrey was doing better these days and though she had wanted to know what the hell you were thinking by shacking up with The Sleaze (as she referred to him), she had eventually told you she loved you and just wanted you to be happy. Joey asked you if you were sure when you told her and when you assured her that you were, she pretty much said the same thing as her former roommate and gave you a hug. She gave you a look when you pulled away and you knew that she had connected the dots on who you really were to CJ, but to her credit, she mercifully never said anything. Pacey and Emma had shrugged (CJ had apologized to Pacey at some point after what happened with Audrey and they had resolved things), wishing you well. Dawson…well, you never really got to know Dawson all that well during his brief visits so no conversation needed to be had there really. All in all, your friends were supportive, even if still a little wary of how things were going to work out. You were happy, though. It was strange but shifting from friends into romance proved to be an easier transition then you thought it would be.

CJ laid his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes, as he stroked your cheek with his thumb. “I’m not going without you.” You went to speak, to remind him you weren’t going anywhere, when he cut you off. “I know what I want. I’m okay with my decision. I need you to be, too.”

You tenderly stroked his arm. “Are you sure?” You whispered, worried he was making a mistake.

“More than sure.” He then pulled you to him for a kiss.

“Okay,” you whispered to his lips before kissing him again.

And now you had met all of his co-workers at The Stand and had seen where he worked a few days out of the week. He had offered to bring you several times before, but you had been hesitant to take him up on it, still worried someone might figure out who you really were. It’s not that you were embarrassed that you had called the helpline for help, but your business was your business and you didn’t want to be seen as that girl CJ got himself through the service. You both obviously knew that wasn’t the case but people talked, people judged, and you just wanted to steer clear of both as long as you possibly could. You knew you shouldn’t care what anyone thought or said, just like CJ didn’t; it was something you were currently working on in therapy. 

“So,” you teased when he finally broke away for air. “Is there a switchboard somewhere that you have somebody directing all the girls to you when they call? Is that how I got you every single time I called?” 

He grinned. “Not exactly. I told everybody that any calls that came in on Fridays at 7:00 were mine.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“Well, how did you know I would call every single time?” You huffed out. “How do you know I might not have gotten held up? Or made plans at the last second? Or got fed up with you?”

He gave you a cocky smirk. “Because you liked talking to me. I could tell.”

You playfully swatted at his shoulder, making him laugh, and rolled your eyes. “It always amazes me that you’re able to make it through doorways with that massive ego of yours. That can’t be how you knew I would call you every time.”

His smirk grew and he nodded. 

“I hate you,” you mumbled. You didn’t really mean it and he knew you didn’t.

CJ pulled you closer up against him. “You have a weird way of showing that.” He inclined his head towards your embrace around his neck. 

“True,” you murmured and kissed him again.

“Plus,” CJ added when you pulled back. “You always said you would call back and I believed you.”

“Better,” you decided. “Though I will begrudgingly admit that I did like talking to you.”

“Like I said, I could—”

“Hush.” You covered his lips with yours and he chuckled into your mouth. When you pulled back this time, you laid your forehead against his, your eyes closed, smiling. “I love you,” you murmured.

“I love you, too” he whispered back to you, lifting up to press a kiss to your brow before you buried your head into his neck and he discreetly snuck his hands under your shirt to rub your back, just the way you liked. 

“Want to get out of here?” He asked you after a few minutes had passed.

“Mmm.” You lifted your head to look him in the eye. “No Fleetwood Mac this time, though.”

He laughed and helped you to your feet. “What have you got against one of the greatest bands of all time?”

“Nothing. It’s just weird to listen to that chorus when we’re about to…you know.” You could feel your cheeks starting to warm.

He grinned salaciously at you. “Oh, I know. Hey, at least it’s not the Star Wars theme.” He snickered at your glare and picked up your hand, kissing it. “No Fleetwood Mac tonight. Got it.” He intertwined your fingers and his grin softened into an affectionate smile before he led you out of there. You quickly made your goodbyes and hurried back to his place where he kept his promise of no rock group music track playing along to your own soundtrack. 

Later, as CJ slept, you repeatedly ran your fingers through his messy hair in soothing strokes as you studied him. Who knew calling the helpline that one Friday night would lead you here? Where you were happy, in love, and doing much better than you ever thought possible? You had gone from feeling overwhelmed by your education to feeling a different type of overwhelmed together. Overwhelming love and affection for the special person in your life; overwhelming gratitude for the progress you’d been able to make in managing your anxiety and panic attacks as best you could; and overwhelming contentment with every single moment, no matter the ups and downs that was best known as life. Regardless of whatever happened from here, you knew you’d be okay and you’d handle whatever was thrown your way. Like CJ had once said, one day at a time.

In his sleep, your boyfriend reached out for you and pulled you in closer to him, snuggling into your side and burrowing into your neck, making you smile.

And to think, you almost hadn’t made that call. You laid your head against CJ’s and closed your eyes. You were so glad you did.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

[sinner-sunflower]

A HH Lucifer-centric AU 22/22

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21

STORY 2 - Sequel

I can't believe it?? I made it, Ma!

Luci's General Suit inspired by this FANART on twt by @kajina_97

This is the COMIC that inspired me to write the whole thing because I wanted this ending so bad klajdklsa it's by @Sandranetta_13 on twt

Dk what tomorrow might entai. Might be the first chapter for the sequel?

Let me know what you guys think! Please, I'm very desperate.

I'm willing to do a Q&A regarding your thoughts. DMs and Asks are OPEN! <3

Will link the sequel here once posted

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

Everything was relatively normal the following week. His and Charlie's long overdue moment with no more miscommunication made Lucifer feel a whole lot better. He couldn't ask for a better daughter.

Dressing himself in one of his battle suits, he felt like he could take on the world. Nothing says King of Hell like your best warrior outfit and a badass sword in full display.

Lucifer: Looking pretty dapper there, me.

Lucifer doesn't even bother to style his hair- it now flows animatedly like that of Lilith's.

Flowers were still being sent to him especially when he was first spotted roaming around the hotel after a week-ish long recovery. Charlie had the amazing idea of making a greenhouse or some sort of garden to put all the flowers and keep them alive as long as possible.

They got rid of any red ones after someone sent a buttload of them which then caused him to have a mini panic attack. Alastor is subtly trying to take that moment off his mind by leaving Marigolds everywhere. It's sweet but soon they're going to need a separate greenhouse for just the Marigolds. Where'd he even get these??

Finding his first Marigold of the day, in the bathroom of all places really Alastor??, he makes his way to the lobby. Everyone was there doing their own thing.

Husk and Angel are at the bar as usual, with the latter talking animatedly about something that puts an endearing expression on Husk's face. Nifty is putting on roach puppet shows for Alastor. The radio demon notices him and conveys his most 'help me' face but he just chuckled and gives him a thumbs up. The cyclops named Cherri is today's gift screener, grumbling about the pollen and the shitty taste some demons have.

Charlie and Vaggie were talking to a small group of demons by the entrance. As soon as his daughter sees him, she said something to the group then walked over to him.

Charlie: Good morning, dad!

Lucifer: You look busy.

Charlie: They're sinners who are asking about the hotel! I'm so happy that people are at least coming here to check it out. Did you have a good sleep?

Lucifer: Well, I don't feel like passing out today. So pretty good!

Charlie: That's great, dad!

Angel: Short king! Looking good in that fit!

Cherri: Yeah! Do a spin, hot stuff!

He blushes at the sudden attention. Everyone is looking at him in awe- maybe it was too much?

Alastor: Nonsense, dear.

Alastor appeared beside him in a flurry of shadows, seemingly reading his mind. He bends down at Lucifer's level to whisper in his ear. He plucked the Marigold Lucifer was holding, putting it behind the King's hair.

Alastor: I, for one, think you never looked so.. raveshing~

Damn him.

Lucifer: Shut up.

Lucifer hisses in response. Like, seriously? In front of his daughter? Thank Father, Charlie didn't hear that.

Charlie: Yeah! You look so cool. I don't think I've seen you wear that except for when there's a banquet.

Lucifer: Yeah, well, I wanted to look put together after everything.

Charlie softens at his words.

Alastor: No need for that, sire. I'm sure no one is foolish enough to comment negatively on what the King of Hell chooses to look like.

Lucifer: What does that make you then?

Alastor: Privileged, my King~

Lucifer rolls his eyes at the audacity but he can't help but smile. Man, he never thought he'd miss their constant banter.

Charlie: You look awesome, dad, okay? Al, please slow down with the Marigolds, Nifty's going crazy. Oh! Dad, right, Aunt Bel called said that the Sloth Ring is making incredible progress and that she'll visit again soon. I think Aunt Bee is planning a party with the other Sins and would like it to be held here in Pride! At the hotel! It would be so cool and of course if you're not ready I can tell them and maybe a little get together would be better. I'll even invite Sev! He gave flowers for you too and Vaggie was so jealous when I said he was my ex and thought the flowers were for me, she was so cute-

Lucifer tried, but he stopped listening halfway through his daughter's talk. It was a bit of an information overload but he kept a small, genuine smile on his face for her.

Then something caught his eye that made him stopped smiling altogether.

Charlie notices this causing her to stop talking.

Charlie: Dad?

He should answer but his eyes were locked on the wall behind Charlie. Plastered on the higher part of the lobby's wall was a glowing mark- gold wings with a dot on the center.

Lucifer turns around so fast to look outside the hotel's window. Heaven looks so out of place up there, sticking out like a sore thumb upon Hell's red skies.

A glint in the distance made him act. Without warning, he took off with such force that those inside the hotel were knocked down by the gust of his wings.

He breaks the window on his way out and pulls out Lightbringer. Lucifer brings the sword up and-

A powerful explosion lit up the sky. The sky split in two and fire appeared high and wide over Pride. At that moment, everyone became so hot that they couldn't bear it, as if their whole body was on fire. They wanted to rip their skin off just to get a sense of relief but then the sky shut closed. A strong thump was heard by every demon in the vicinity and then they were all thrown a few meters.

It felt like an eternity before Charlie and the others could get their bearings. Those that didn't get knocked out went outside, once there, they see Lucifer far up in the sky, holding up a flaming sword. The signature pentagram of the city has been fractured by whatever happened and demons all around were either hurt or unconscious.

Charlie: Dad!

Charlie calls out to her dad but he doesn't acknowledge her. His gaze never leaving Heaven, as if he's seeing something that no one else can.

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

A screen locked on Hell zooms out as the machine's voice rang out 'target disengaged'.

An angel looking similarly to Lucifer, except there's blue tints on the spots where Lucifer had reds, was looking down at Hell pulling back a large, golden gun. They blew the smoke residue and sighed.

Michael: Hello, Lucifer... Still causing trouble, I see.

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

it's done??

cliffhanger but don't worry, there's a sequel!

I spent 30 minutes looking for that comic that inspired this ending.

Did y'all catch that Lemmino reference? I'd have that description in my head rent free ever since I watched Grazed by the Apocalypse

Again, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this! This was my first published baby and I'm so proud !

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Art Forgery

Self-Aware! Dazai Osamu x GN! Reader

Description: Second week living with BSD Cast. Dazai has a present for you. A very interesting present.

Kind of a sequel to Television

Warning: OOC. Crack-ish. Mentioning of BSD author, artist, seiyūs and voice actors. Shortish. English is my second language.

_____

You were frozen with fear, staring at Dazai's present.

"So, do you like it?" Dazai tilted his head, smiling.

You didn't answer. You still hopped, that it was a hallucination. You close your eyes and shake your head, hoping to chase away this supposed 'hallucination'.

You opened your eyes again. It was still here.

"[Y/N]? Guiding Light? My cute Iris Flower? Are you okay?" Dazai sounded worried. You gulped, and asked.

"I... I... Dazai, did you draw it yourself?" You pointed at the painting he gave you. The same painting, that was a silent witness of Hirotsu's and Dazai's talk after The Guild was defeated.

Dazai looked away, scratching the back of his neck.

"No, but I am pretty sure, I can paint the similar one. I remembered, how you called this painting beautiful, so, before going to this world, I took it from the Art Museum." Dazai looked at you again, his eyes soften. "Present for you. It will look good in the new house, am I right?"

Dazai Osamu, took a painting, that, in this world, were painted by his real-life counterpart. He took it from the museum, that is based on the real-life Yokohama museum. And gave it to you. To put on a wall in a new house.

You take a better look at the painting. It looked real... Real in not being a photo, or replica. It was a real painting, with some brush strokes being visible.

You let out a whimper. You don't recall any resent news about Dazai Osamu's painting being stolen from Yokohama Art Museum.

Does it mean, that now there are two same real paintings by Dazai Osamu in this world?

And one of them will be on your wall.

A bizarre scenario flooded your mind.

You are forced to hold a Family Reunion in your new house.

Your less trustworthy relatives noticed the painting.

They saw, that it's real painting.

They stole it, while you weren't looking.

They try to sell it.

A few days later, police arrest them for art forgery.

Your relatives call you as the original owner of the painting.

You are arrested.

The expertise shows, that both paintings were made at the same time.

Real-life Dazai's family members are called. They said, that they have no idea, that a second painting existed. Moreover, they are sure, that it never existed.

Someone noticed the similarities between BSD Cast and anime characters.

Kafka and Harukawa are called. They discovered, that their characters are real and were living with you.

They insist on BSD Cast staying with them.

You are accused of copyright infringement

Studio 'Bones', Kadokawa Shoten and Yen Press joined the accusations.

Seiyūs and all dub actors joined the accusations.

You are alone and miserable, without friends or family...

"[Y/N], are you okay? You were looking at the painting for five minutes already... Can you, please, blink? Or did I break you?"

Dazai grabbed your shoulder and start shaking you.

You gasped, finally returning from the world of imagination. You looked around, making sure, that you are still in your apartment.

"I... I am fine. Dazai, this painting, we have one in this world. It was made by our world Dazai Osamu... And I am afraid, that it will cause trouble..."

You share your scenario with Dazai. Dazai looked like he would burst with laughter. When you finish talking, Dazai grin and gave you a side hug. He ruffled your hair.

"You are so adorable, when you are worried about silly things so much!" Dazai rubbed his cheek against the top of your head. "Do you really think, that something like that will happen?"

You opened your mouth, but quickly realized, that Dazai was right. It was an impossible scenario.

You closed your mouth and lay your head down on Dazai's shoulder.

"I was silly." mumbled you.

"Mhm" Dazai nodded.

"It is impossible." spoke you.

"Yup" Dazai's grin was sly.

"Still, without good reasons, my relatives won't be allowed in the house." You sighed.

"As you wished, My adorable Iris Flower." Dazai tickle your cheek.

"Thanks for the painting, it is nice." smiled you, putting your hand on Dazai's shoulder and squeezing it.

"No problems" Dazai kissed the top of your head.

It will be another small memory you made with your new friends. One, that you will recall with the smile on your face.

As long as there weren't The Louvre or The Hermitage in BSD World. You don't think, you will handle it, if Arthur and Verlaine bring you "Mona Lisa" as a birthday present, or Goncharov, Fyodor, Nikolai and Pushkin bring you "Madonna Litta" as a New Year gift.

[wehangout]

So, the amazing Calli @callivich came up with this beautiful idea for DVD commentary, fic style, and the amazing questions that go with it. As suggested, I'll be indulging myself while talking about:

Thicker Than Forget. Summary: He blinks at you. “What was your first name?” “Erato.” “Erato,” he repeats. “No need to roll the r.” “Like the muse?” You grin. “Poet, meet muse."

AU. Ian is a poet. Mickey is his recently-corporal muse. They eat an absurd amount of stupidly named ice cream, try to find beauty in things, and fall hopelessly in love.

This was fun! Let me know if you want commentary on any other fics!

Give us some stats - (when you wrote it, word count, how long it took to finish, is it a one-shot/multi-chapter, etc)

So, I wrote this for the Shameless Big Bang in 2021. I couldn’t tell you how long it took me to write (Word is giving me conflicting info), but it was probably my easiest write to date. Word count sits at 30-ish thousand words.

What was the initial inspiration for your story?

It was initially inspired by a novel. I don’t remember which one, but it was either Lament or Ballad by Maggie Stiefvater. The only similarity between that one and mine is that a character falls in love with their muse. The plot itself is very different.

If the story is written from a character’s POV, why did you choose this character?

Mickey. Because it’s almost always Mickey lmao. I did try from Ian’s, but this had to be from the muse’s POV and Mickey had to be the muse.

What was your favourite scene to write?

The smut 👀 if you’ve read it, I hope you understand why lmao

How did you come up with the title?

From the poem, Love is Thicker Than Forget! It fits so well with Ian being a poet and the overall theme of the story.

Are there any little moments or references you hope readers will notice?

I went a little meta on fanfic, fandom, and shipping in this, which was so fun. I think only one person seemed to really notice and mention it, though, haha.

Was there anything you struggled to write? If so, how did you overcome this?

I didn’t struggle to write it, but figuring out how to end it was tough. It took a long time for me to figure that out. When I originally came up with the idea it was for an original story, and did not have a happy ending.

Favourite line in the story?

I’m gonna go with lines, plural, because I have a couple

He kisses you and he kisses you and oh. Oh. This is what they were writing about. All the poets, every word of creativity they took from you … it’s this.

He closes his eyes and continues to sigh sonnets into your skin

Also, the last two lines of dialogue, and, I mean, “Fuck the connection” has to be right up there.

What are you most proud about in the story? (plot, characterisation, dialogue, twist/cliffhanger, etc)

The writing, actually. I’m not a poetic person, none of the poems in the fic are mine, but I’m pretty proud of the poetic nature of the writing.

Are there any ‘behind the scenes’ info you’d like to share - e.g. what’s going on in a characters head in a certain scene or how you came to write a certain line?

So, this is the fic that made me realise I needed to stop taking things so seriously lmao. @captainjowl can attest to the research I tend to do. In this case, every ice cream name was a legit flavour at the time, taken from a Baskin-Robbins website. The mural exists. The flowers and trees in the botanic gardens are flowers and trees found in that exact botanic garden. The hoodie! Taken straight from the Brooklyn Zoo website. The pasta they eat at the North Pond – I used Google Maps to make sure there was an Italian restaurant nearby and looked up ponds in Lincoln Park.

I've since tried to be more chill. Sometimes I fail.

Reading back the story now, is there anything you’d change or add?

I’d make it longer, if possible.

Would you ever write a sequel to this story?

It’s a nice idea, because I’d love to write something pretty again, but I have zero inspiration for it.

Are there any ‘easter eggs’ in your story - e.g. references to other stories you’ve written, a trope you often use etc?

Uh, if you’ve read this and Suncatcher you might notice that I, like Ian and Sandy, have a thing for The Doors.

If you’ve chosen your most popular story, are you surprised by the popularity?

I don’t know if this is my most popular story, but I was definitely surprised by the intensity of the comments I received. It was one time when I knew I’d written something good, but the way it made other people feel definitely took me by surprise.

Anything else you’d like the readers to know about the story?

I love that this was loved. I still go back and read it every now and then and just sigh.

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

Hey, Mickey! [Pt. 2]

University AU TW: Language, Alcohol Consumption, P w/out P, Hook-Up Culture, Y/N's a bit promiscuous but so are her friends lmfao Smut Warnings: Semi-Public Sex, Car Sex, Sloppy Make Outs, Penetrative Sex, Degradation, Name Calling, Fingering, Handjob, Oral (F!Giving - Blowjob), Lowkey face-fucking, Overstimulation, San's a meanie (translated: soft dom ish), Unprotected Sex (contraceptives are sexy guys), Double Penetration, Anal, Creampie, Manhandling, Multiple Orgasms, Genre: Romance, Smut, Exes-to-FWB-to-Lovers, Minors DNI Pairing: Choi San x Reader ft. Yeosang YN Pronouns: Female (She/Her) Word Count: 3.8K

[Other Groups Masterlist] [Ao3 Link] | [Wattpad Link]

Notes: I didn't mean to write a sequel to this but... here we are ig lmaooooooo BUT THIS IS IT I PROMISE! Also rq you do not need to read part 1, this can be a stand alone, but if you want to read that filth go ahead. Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in these actions. The idols mentioned in this work are meant to be seen more as face claims rather than the actual idols themselves.

Feedback is greatly appreciated!! Thank you for reading!

"I hate you, (Y/N)!" Your friend cried. "You said he's free!"

"Okay, and? He's not free anymore," you sipped on your iced tea while your friend lamented on the table in front of you.

"Was he... was he at least a good fuck?"

"I guess you'll never know."

"No!" Your friend cries into her arms. She looks at you with sad eyes. "You're lucky I love you."

"Yup," you finished your tea and placed it aside while you continued your paper. "Plus, you don't want to date that asshole," you rolled your eyes and groaned.

"Why not?"

"His idea of a date is a movie and a fuck, he's so unromantic," you complained.

"Why are you dating him then?" She asks, regaining her composure and touching up her eyeliner now.

"I guess I'm just used to it," you eyed her weirdly but continued your own business. "Maybe I kinda missed it."

"Wow, your friends were right, your standards are really on the floor, huh?" She huffs. Apparently so.

"I know," you couldn't stop the grin from rising on your face. "Anyway, we have a date later, so we'll see what happens," you rest your chin against your palm.

"Aw, what's the plan?" She pushes.

"Let's see," San chimes behind you while placing a hand on your shoulder, "dinner at 6, movie at 8, and sex in my car at 10," San lists off on his fingers behind you.

"You're stupid," you rolled your eyes again and looked at your friend, "what did I tell you. Unromantic, right?" You sighed.

"Just the way you like it," he shoots you a wink and steals your coffee.

"What else did I tell you? Absolute asshole," you deadpanned toward your friend. San, making no comment, walked off. "Look, he just came here to fucking embarrass me and take my shit, ugh, why am I talking to him again?" You shook your head and went back to work. "Consider yourself lucky, friend." You stole a glance at her, catching her watching San walk off.

"I wish I had a guy who treated me like shit."

"You're even stupider than he is."

"Let me live my whore era in peace," her head slips down her hand and she giggles. "You have two other friends, right?"

"Why are you so attracted to my friends?!"

"Why are your friends so attractive?!" She fires back.

~

"Really, San? I thought you'd at least be a little more classy than this," you crawled over to the backseat and straddled his lap. The earlier date was a bit of a blur, to be honest, the movie was boring and dinner was okay, but part of you felt that weird semblance of him trying to be more romantic. It didn't work though. In the end, you were still about to fuck in his car, one of the most unromantic of places.

"I mean, yeah, but you're here anyway, aren't you?" His hands rest on either side of your hip. "If you want me to take you home to my place right now then I'll do it," he shrugs. "But can you wait that long?" He teases you.

"Shut up," you leaned down and kissed him. Your lips moved together slowly while San's thumbs started to trace circles around your hips. His hands slipped into your shirt and sent a cold shock up your spine, something that elicited a small groan from you and allowed San to push forward while deepening the kiss. You felt your hips relax against his lap and you could feel his boner against his jeans. You separated for a moment, leaving San to chase after you.

"What?" His voice sounded more disinterested than annoyed.

"Your windows are tinted, right?" You looked out into the nighttime.

"Nope," he pulls you down to his lips once again.

"San," his name was muffled between your lips. "Mm mmm," you shook your head. He pulled away.

"Come on, no one's here, you can see the lot better than I can," he starts to kiss your neck instead. He wasn't really wrong per se, you really should've suspected something when he parked back here, but here you were being surprised again, huh? "What are you so worried about? It's not like anyone we know would be here at this time," he continues. Again, he wasn't wrong.

Plus, part of you thought that car sex was hot.

"Fine, but I do expect you to bring me home still," you said.

"Yeah, yeah, of course," he pulled your shirt off and kissed you again, something you welcomed and reciprocated. He reached behind you and unclasped your bra before tossing it to some unknown part of the car, and your hips bucked against his, something that made him smirk against you. "Needy much?" He teased you too often, in your opinion.

"Shut up and just fuck me already, okay?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," San separated from you and you groaned. "Hold on there, baby, we're not just fucking around anymore," he lowers you against the seat and your breath catches in your throat. "Nah, we're "talking," right? I'm fucking to keep you now," he presses small kisses against your chest. "Then again, my competition is Mark, so I'm not too concerned," he grabs the waistbands of your skirt and your panties and pulls them off slowly.

"Don't be mean!" You tug at his hair and he groans around your nipple.

Mark, San's polar opposite. He was sweet, romantic, and just so caring, kinda bad at sex but you would never tell him. You didn't deserve him, now that you thought of it, especially since you're about to be willingly dicked down by your ex, but what's new?

"And? Since when were you into the nice guys? I know you, you like us mean," San's fingers ghost over your clit and your back arches. He pushes himself up and presses wet kisses along your jaw just as he traces his fingers around your folds and, fucking finally, he presses two fingers inside of you.

"Haa..." you let out a shaky moan and felt yourself sinking into the leather seats. You pulled his face to yours and kissed him hard. He let out a low groan as you started to palm at his crotch.

"You like us stupid too," he mutters against you. "You like it when we can't think of anything other than you, you thrive on that shit, it gets you off every time," his voice was a low rumble on your lips.

"No," your response came out as a low moan, "that's not..." you couldn't finish your sentence, not with how he was moving inside of you.

"You're all I ever think about," he presses up against your g-spot and your legs nearly clamped together as you started to grind on his fingers. "I could be doing whatever and all I can think about is how much of a cock-hungry whore you can be, all I think about is how you can barely even talk after I'm done with you. You should see yourself right now, where'd all that pride from earlier go?" He pulled his hand away in a swift movement, licking them clean before pulling his jeans off. The opportunity presented itself and you weren't one to back down, besides, you couldn't let him have all the glory. You were quick to push him back now, taking more of a front and wrapping your hand around his dick. "Oh?" He asks with a confident grin. You dragged your hand up and started to slowly jerk him, taking your time to listen to his own pretty moans.

"I usually prefer to be the one dumb fucked stupid but... you said it yourself, I'm fucking to keep you," you crawled into the space between his legs and wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock, your tongue drawing languid circles around it while San's head hit the back of the seat.

"Fuck..." he drew the curse out and his hand rested on the top of your head as you took more and more of his cock into your mouth. He wasn't pushing down on you, thankfully, but the force was there, and god did it turn you on. You pulled your head up along his dick now, jerking him all along the way while he started to pull at your hair. The bitter taste of precum dragged along your tongue each time you tried to take more of him. "You can take more of it, I know you can," he starts to push your head down further and you gagged around him. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and San cursed again. "Fuck, you look so hot like this," he brushes your hair out of your face right as you take the last of him in. Deep breaths, just relax. Not the first time you blew him, just the first time in such a restricted space. You try to pull off of him again, but his hips move up and he holds you in place.

"Mmph," you moaned around him while he thrust into you. Your legs started to give way under you, sliding further apart while you sank to the bottom of the car and your wetness dripped out of you. One of your hands moved to your pussy and you slipped your index and middle fingers inside to scissor yourself while you gagged on his cock. San moaned on top of you just as he pulled you off of him to give you a chance to climb back on top of him, your pussy hovering above his cock for just a moment before you spread your lips and sank down on him. He pulled you down into an open kiss, with wet moans being stolen with his tongue. His hands settled on your hips, squeezing them gently to urge you to move at your own pace, and a small shift from him was enough for you to start riding him. Your hips rocked back and forth, the car shifting under you with every movement but your wary glances around confirmed that you and he were still alone. Finally, you felt your abdomen tighten and you tugged him away from you. "I'm... haa... I'm almost there," you told him.

"Are you?" His words had a heavy sultry tone to them and you felt his lips trail up your jawline. "Hold it in," he bites down on your neck and you whimpered.

"I don't think... mmph... I don't think I can," your voice mixed with your moans now and his hands tightened on your waist to hold you still.

"You know, I just cleaned this car too," he spoke against your neck. This asshole. "Would be a shame if I had to clean it again," he sighs and lowers you down again, taking full control of you.

"San, please," your hands squeezed his hips and he thrusts into you. "Please, please, please," you begged him. You couldn't hold your orgasm in any longer than you already have.

"Go then," he releases your hips and you grasp onto his shoulders and lean forward, moving up and down his length to reach your orgasm all the while he whispers dirty things. Your pussy slid against his cock, feeling the way he stretched you open with each glide up and down, it was almost too good. The things you would do just to get him to let you sit on his cock forever. "Damn, only I can make you like this, huh?" He grins just as you stilled over him, your orgasm wracking through your body, and him moaning on top of you, staying in place while your pussy tried to pull him in further.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck," you cursed repeatedly and San flipped you so that your stomach was against the seats and he pistoned into you. "Fuck, oh god, I can't," you shook your head against them now while San thrust into you with enough force that your wetness gushed around his cock. And when you felt his thumb press against your pucker you grabbed onto the seats with a vice grip, then right as you reached your second orgasm he stilled for a moment, letting you ride it out, until he spoke again.

"You ready?"

"Mmhmm," you moaned and he pushed into you.

"Shit..." he let out a breathy moan, while you moaned loudly, not caring if anyone was around to hear you. Your hand moved to your clit, trying to speed up to your next orgasm.

"Ugh, oh god," your hands moved faster and soon, somehow, you were on his lap again, your arms wrapped around his neck and his hands on your waist while he fucked you and you bit down on his shoulder to keep from screaming while the car rocked back and forth and, then, you made a mistake. You opened your eyes.

And Yeosang's jaw dropped.

Immediately, you zipped your mouth shut and San, sensing the sudden unease, stopped all his movements. You and Yeosang were stuck staring at each other for a bit, and carefully, awkwardly, he held up a bag and pointed at it.

"Haa, fuck," you cursed, rolled your eyes, and pointed at San's head. San turned his head just enough to see him, before he looked at you.

"Down?" He asks. He didn't specify what in particular, but with enough context, you were able to piece it together.

"In here?"

"Sure."

"Ugh," you groaned again. "If he is," you finally conceded. You looked out the back window again and, for whatever reason, Yeosang was still standing there. Of all the times to run into him it happened to be when your ex was balls deep into your pussy, of course. Wordlessly, San turned just enough to see him again and raised his hand up, motioning for Yeosang to come in. Yeosang, seemingly, took a deep breath and sighed. He looked at you, showing you a thumbs up and a look as if to ask if it was really okay, and with another roll of your eyes you nodded, and he shrugged, and he walked over. "God, it's about to get so cramped." You grumbled.

"Whatever, not the first time we fucked in this car," San groaned. You made a move to pull off of him, but he held you still while he leaned over and unlocked the car.

"I have, uh, waba grill," Yeosang slides in. "You look hungry, (Y/N)."

"A little, yeah," you nodded.

"Yo, you gonna join us or are you just here to fap?" San leans over to ask him. "Lock the car for me too."

"Yeah, yeah," Yeosang locks the car. "You cool if I join for sure, right?" He asks you.

"Woo might be mad that he's not here," you looked away for a moment.

"Aw, man, Woo doesn't have to know," San reasons.

"Well, whatever," Yeosang tosses his food onto the driver's seat and climbs in the back. "How far are we?"

"Three orgasms... was about to be four until you decided to look in here," you muttered.

"Whoops," Yeo pulls his shirt off and you look away.

"Yo," San whistles lowly.

"You guys suck," you mumbled and San pulled you off of him.

"I'll take a breather, you two have fun," San says. That's... different.

"Huh? You sure?" Yeosang asks and even you were surprised.

"Sure, last time you two get to fuck at least."

"Last?!" You both exclaimed.

"Yup, next time (Y/N) and I'll be official."

"In your dreams, Choi San," you rolled your eyes and turned Yeosang's face toward yours, capturing his lips with yours in an instant. Yeosang matched your rhythm quickly, holding onto your hips with a gentle grip while you moved on top of him.

"Oh," he mumbles. Yup, you both knew it, he was planning something. "Whatever, (Y/N), come here," he pulls you close to him and you press your lips to his.

Okay, you had to admit it, this wasn't the first time you and Yeosang fucked. The first time was because you both got drunk at a party. The second was because he picked you up from a failed date. And the third was now. And yet every time and with every partner, of course, you ended up comparing them to the jackass sitting behind you. Yeosang was gentler in his movements, he had control, easily, but he let you go through the motions. Even now, while you sank your hips onto his, you could feel the motions of him pushing you down too. You held onto both headrests on either side of you when he started to thrust into you, and you fought the urge to clamp your legs whenever he pushed into you just right. Your hands traced up his abdomen, wrapping around either side of his chest while you rode him, in some ways Yeosang was just perfect and if it hadn't been for San then maybe, maybe, this would've felt a little less cruel. Then, you felt San press his hand onto your back and he pushed you down onto Yeosang, close enough that you two nearly fell into a kiss.

"You know, (Y/N)," San whispers in your ear, pressing a small kiss to the shell of it too. "Yeo's had the biggest crush on you since we were kids."

"Come on, man, don't tell her about that," Yeosang's face twists in pleasure. He holds onto you tighter, thrusts becoming more pointed.

"The dude used to cum in socks thinking of you," San laughs. "What do you think? Pussy better than fabric?" San chides.

"San!" You tried to turn to glare at him, but his hand kept your head in place.

"And look at you two now, fucking in the backseat of my car," he continues to taunt. "How's it feel, Yeo?"

"Fuck you, San," Yeosang holds onto your hips tighter and you let out a breathy moan.

"Don't even listen to him," you pressed your lips against Yeosang's, and he kissed back, with both of your hips rolling against each other. Then you felt San's cock rub against you. And when you felt it push against your asshole, you broke off of Yeosang and buried your head in his neck, muffling your moan against his skin. "Fuck," you gripped onto Yeosang's arms and he groaned with every movement. Every time San pushed further into you, you ground down on Yeosang, and with every thrust you moved forward and back between them until he had finally settled in. You lightly chewed on Yeosang's skin, trying to get used to the feeling. Yeosang moaned under you, feeling the difference almost instantly.

"Shit," he clenches his jaw, holding back as much as he could.

"Don't be a little bitch," San growls, wrapping one arm around your torso and pulling you up against his chest, he thrusts into you and you grab onto his arm, your nails digging into his skin with every movement and Yeosang biting down on his hand to stop himself from cumming inside of you. "You cum in her and I'll make sure you regret it, Yeo," San says.

"I'm fucking trying, asshole," Yeosang makes a move to pull out of you but San pushes you down on his cock further.

"Oh god," your hands were on either side of Yeosang now, mind going blank from both cocks moving inside of you. Yeosang pressed open-mouth kisses against your skin, leaving it burning in its path. You turned your head so that you could whisper to him, being sure that only he could hear you.

"Fuck me like you got to me first," you said beneath a moan. Yeosang turns his head to look at you.

"Fuck it," Yeosang shakes his head and grips your thighs, pushing into you at a new pace to match San's, and you fell limp against him, fighting against his own strength to close your legs.

"Attaboy!" San was almost having too much fun with this. "Savor it, lover boy, this is the last time you get to try it." He could be so mean sometimes.

"Fuck! Oh, god, don't stop!" You felt your orgasm building up inside you again, your pussy clenched around Yeosang's cock and your hands dug into his hair while San constantly reminded you that he was there.

"Haa, shit," Yeosang cursed under you. From the way he was moving you could tell he was close and, fuck how amazing it would be to feel him. "Where?" Was all he could get out and, before you could even answer, San pulled you off of him and wrapped his arms under your legs to keep them open.

"Not inside, that's for sure," San said between grunts, he thrust into you at a faster pace now, not being held back by the previous resistance, and your head fell against his neck, just barely able to see through bleary eyes the way Yeosang jerked his cock. You felt your pussy clench around nothing, trying to get some kind of pleasure, any, and luckily Yeosang knew you better than you thought. His mouth wrapped over your clit, tongue circling around the sensitive nub while San continued to fuck into you, and when Yeosang pushed his tongue inside of you you knew you were done for. Your next orgasm hit you hard, so hard that you swear you blacked out for a second before getting pulled back to the reality that was San cumming in your ass. Your legs shook under his hold, and your breaths were heavy and hot. Yeosang sat up, wiping the cum from his chin as he did so.

"No more... I can't..." you shook your head and San pulled out of you slowly, watching the trail of cum follow his dick.

"Yeah, yeah," San was quiet, finally. Yeosang, meanwhile, reached over and grabbed his clothes.

"Well, I'm out," he pulls his shirt on.

"You're leaving already?" You asked with your eyes screwed shut.

"Yeah, exam," Yeosang rolls his eyes, wiping his dick off before shoving it back into his boxers. "Later," he steps into the passenger seat before unlocking the door, he looks back at San. "Also, you're an asshole."

"I know," San holds his hand up until Yeosang leaves. "You staying back here or moving up?"

"Ugh..." you turned so that your head laid on his chest, "can we just stay like this for a bit?"

"Sure," San's hand rests on your back now. "Too hard?"

"Like you care."

"Hey! I'm trying here," his hands rose up momentarily before settling on you again. You pressed a small kiss to his chest.

"Were you telling the truth about Yeo?"

"Oh yeah, big time," he nods.

"That's mean."

"Just how you like it."

"Fuck you."

"So soon?"

"I... ugh..." you closed your eyes again.

General Tag List: @stopeatread @bat-shark-repellant @raeincitizen @umbralhelwolf @yangsrose @kazooms @sadcoffeecritic 

[the-pen-pot]

Oooh fic writer asks! Would love to know your answers to 8 & 17 please 🙏

Ohhh, thank you, @hagstoned. Here you go! If anyone else is interested, questions are here:

#8 If you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for…

Hiraeth, probably. It was so plotty that I didn't give Merlin much chance to bring much modern back to Camelot (apart from some plumbing) and I'd love to have him show the others his memories of London and things. In fact I have loads of little ideas for extras to Hiraeth that would take place after the story. Just... no time in which to write them 🤣

#17 talk about your writing and editing process

Sit. Write 🤣 I'm a pantser. Planning is actively detrimental to my creative process. But more below the cut cos it got long:

So what basically happens is, Monday to Friday, I peel myself out of bed, get the first cup oif about eight cups of tea, and then I sit at my computer and write in the morning. This is normally 3-4 hours of writing, in which I manage maybe 3000 words (on a good day it's more, but that doesn't always happen.)

I use 4thewords, which means I gamify my writing. You beat monsters with your wordcount. It's quite good, because even on a bad day you can feel accomplished.

Editing is a five-ish read-through process, with one read through occuring per day (mostly). It's done on printed out copies because I cannot catch mistakes on-screen

Edit 1: Plot edit. Is the story going in the right direction? Am I happy enough with it? (perfection isn't the goal. We are aiming for "good enough" ebcause perfection is unobtainable.)

(It's after this edit that I post chapters in my drafts section on patreon)

When I'm happy with the plot I use an echo checker to highlight words, because sometimes I get one stuck in my head and repeat it five times in a chapter and it makes my writing look weird.

Edit 2: Grammar, punctuation. Hinky wording edit. I'm looking more at the technical aspect and trying to catch as many mistakes as possible ready for...

Edit 3: Print out chapter, mix up the pages so its all out of order. Start at the bottom of the page. Read the last paragraph forwards. Then the preceding one etc. This is the typos edit. It helps me catch missing words etc. It's a bastard. I hate it. I want to skip it every time, but I always end up catching things so I never do.

Edit 4: An all-over edit. Just a straight read-through to check it's as good as I'd like it to be. Look for typos I may have introduced in previous edits.

This is where I post "finished" chapters on Patreon.

Edit 5: Usually occurs a week after edit 4, with my current posting schedule. This is hte pre-AO3 edit. My brain's had time to forget it's seen these precise words in this precise order.

Read through one more time. Invariably find at least one more typo. Cry. Fix it.

Post on AO3

Despite all that, there will still be errors in chapters on AO3 which I will find, months or even years later, and be deeply ashamed of!

[sofasoap]

Wrenching heart 

Pairing : Din Djarin x f!reader. slight description of injuries on Reader otherwise no other physical descriptions.

Summary:  part 2 to heartbreak. Going into Reader’s backstory. 

Slightly AU-ish, Din didn’t get N1 after Razor Crest got blown up.he got something similar.

Warning: Mature theme. strong languages. Mention of sexism, misogyny ,angsty.

English isn’t my first language, so I apologise for any mistakes. 

A/N : I seem to be writing all the Din fic for the University students at the moment to push them on ( Trust me, I know your pain. been there done that)   @groguspicklejar  and @deakyjoe, this is for both of you.

MASTERLIST for part 1 and sequel to this series

Since leaving Din that night, you've been planet hopping, doing odd jobs here and there, helping out at cantinas when they are short of staff, fixing up any broken mechanical stuff for people. Scraping in any credits you can before moving onto the next location. You are pretty sure Din wouldn’t be coming after you, but you can’t bear the thought of staying one place too long, making connections with people, getting hurt again.

Back to your old life, you thought. Running away from problems.

Before the fall of the Republic, your family was well known in Naboo for its wealth and connections with both the political and underground world.  While Naboo was relatively untouched, like most people during the rule of the Empire, they didn’t come out unscathed. Your parents, eager to climb back up again socially, spare nothing to provide you and your brother the best education, getting the best tutor in the system. History, language, art, culture, music, politics, science. You name it. While you were thankful for the comfortable lifestyle and education your parents have provided you, you can’t help thinking, do they love you because you are their child? Or there is something else they want out of you. 

Being the good obedient daughter you are, you work hard to please your parents. Your real interest is exploring the galaxy, to be an expert mechanic.  In what off time you can spare, you often secretly sneak off to the garage and workshops in the city, or searching on holonet, reading and learning about the latest models of ships and transports there are in the galaxy. 

You told your brother about your dream once, he laughed his head off at the idea. “ Dream on sister, you think father and mother will let you do that?”. He sneered. “ Your job, as a woman,” He pointed at you, “ is to be a good trophy wife for someone else, look after your husband, and carry a child for them. That is why they have you. Helping to revive the family name.”  That’s the first time the seed of doubt has been planted in your heart. Still, you work hard, chasing for approval from your parents. Their reaction every time makes that seed grow and grow.

“That is still not good enough.”“ That is your responsibility.”“ That is what you meant to do isn’t it?”

The reality came crashing down on you when you were travelling back from an excursion to the Gungan territories, the transporter you were in was involved in a serious accident. While you survived, you didn’t come out unscathed. The accident left a deep scar across your face. Not once your parents visited you while you recovered at the medical centre. When you return home, you can sense your parents and your brother looking at you differently. 

With disgust. You made the decision to run away when you were walking in the corridor one night preparing to sneak out again, and you heard the servants talking discreetly. You hid behind a pole, eavesdropping. “..... Master is thinking of sending her away. She’s no use to them anymore….. The accident…. The scar…” You shuddered. Is that what you are to your parents? Just an object that they can use to achieve their goals? Now you are  what they considered “ damaged goods”,  they were going to throw you away, like a piece of junk. You ran away that night. Eventually settled down in Coruscant, a little workshop owner took pity on you, agreed to give you lodging in the small store room behind the workshop, and let you be a helping hand cleaning around the workshop, after you promised you wouldn’t cause them any trouble.  Being a fast learner,  you watch and learn, soon the owner notices your talent, agrees to let you start fixing small easy problems, and from then on, business blooms, the workshop is famous for fair prices they charge and quick reliable work. The owner treats you like a daughter more than your biological family ever did. First time in your life, you were really happy. Doing things you want, earning your own wage, having someone really cares about you. Happiness doesn’t last. Few cycles later, your boss got sick, and despite doing all you can, they passed away. Their relatives took over the business, and things went downhill from there. Until the Mandalorian came into the shop one day.  You ran off again, this time with The Mandalorian, after begging him to let you tag along. With him and Grogu, you feel like you found a family again.  

The naive heart of yours thought there was something between you two. He isn’t a man of word, he lets his actions  do all the talking. You and Grogu want something? He will get it. You need a certain part for the ship? He will hunt it down for you. Grogu wants more frogs? He will find the nearest market to get it. He gave you the vibroblade, with his clan signet on it. Does it mean something? You rack your brain through all the lores and stories you've been taught about the Mandalore culture from your tutor, but nothing came up. When he pushes you away after Grogu left with the Jedi, you feel like a failure again. He doesn’t want you anymore. Just like your family.  You are no longer used to him. Piece of junk. Away you go again. With another scar added to your already broken heart. You hitched a ride with a trader, who can only take you as far as Tatooine. From there, someone recommended you to seek out employment with Peli Motto in Mos Eisley. Peli was impressed with your skills, and agreed to stay on as her assistant. You were planning to stay for only a few weeks, to be honest, a dry, hot desert planet isn’t your favourite place to be. Especially growing up in Naboo, it’s such a big contrast.  But something made you stay on. If you were a true believer of the Force ( maybe you are? After seeing Grogu and Luke’s show of power.) You will be telling people later on it was the force that has pushed you to make the decision. And here you are, running into Din again. Damn the universe and the force.

“So, what is going on between you and Mando?” Your hand stopped for a second where you were trying to pull the engine lines out. “... I used to work for him.” your hand continues to move as you reply Peli, not elaborating any further. Peli gave you a look but didn’t press on. Din comes back to the workshop everyday, watching you work but doesn’t interact with you. You can always feel his eyes following your every move. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be Mando? Doesn’t the Daimyo want you to do some job for him?” Peli asked him every day. “ I need the ship for that.” Was always his reply.

“Well here you go Mando, all fixed up for you. Your engine shouldn’t give you more trouble unless you decide to run the ship to the ground. Your carbonite freezer coolants have been replaced as well, it's a bit hard to source the stuff so I have to charge you a little bit more for that.” Peli commented. After handing over a bag of credit without complaint, he walked over towards you, where you were putting away your tools back into the tool box for the end of the day.

“Your ship is fixed, as promised. Now leave me be.” 

“...........”

“if you got something else to say, spit it out now Mando.” Not even turning around to face him, you mumbled.  After travelling with him, you have learned to read his body language. He always stands there and looks at you if he wants something from you. From the corner of your eyes, you see him flexing his fingers, but still, not a word. You sighed. Standing up, you unhook something from your belt. “By the way, I think you should have this back.”  Pressing it into his gloved hand, you turned around and yelled towards Peli. “ I am going to go to the Cantina and grab our dinner, I’ll be back soon!”. You walked out of the hanger, leaving him standing there, without a goodbye. Din looked at his hand, it’s the  vibroblade that he had gifted you. He feels like his world is crumbling down around him again.

…. I did not expect I will be making a part 3 for this. Looks like i have to.  Oops. Tag list : @frogtits1, @READINGFAN, @memester-png

I absolutely love Peli. I think apart from Karga and Cara, Peli is probably the closest thing Din has to a big sister/aunty figure.