#it’d all be so fun. i love that daydream

[mars-ipan]

absolute fav daydream is the shared one i have with a friend where we have a collab channel

[cozwalt]

I know I want to cosplay from BOTW at some point but I don’t know who, and even if I opted for Link what outfit.

[suugarbabe]

drunken daydreams | s.b. x reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: mentions of drinking, pining, fluff

a/n: little fun fact i found out, beer pong was invented in the 1950's?? also this is for week three of jinxed july <3

Hopeless. That is what it felt like to crush on Sirius Black. Hopeless because Sirius was, well…everything. He was charming beyond belief, even professors falling for his half turned smile and cheeky winks. He was absolutely gorgeous, unfairly so really, onyx hair that fell in messy tendrils no matter how many times he ran his ring glad fingers through it. His eyes were always playfully full of mischief, but if you truly paid attention to him (and you did) you could tell that they shifted just the slightest bit in shade depending on his mood. His mouth seemed to permanently be painted with a smirk unless someone was telling him ‘no’, then his powder pink lips would puff in a pout and who in their right mind could deny that look? (certainly not you). 

When Lily asked you to spend a week at James’s family cabin with her over summer holiday you had originally said no. James’s cabin meant Sirius’s cabin since the latter now lived with the former; that and they were attached at the hip with no hope of prying them apart. Lily had pouted, begging you to say yes, but going only seemed like torture. Torture because it’d be a week essentially alone with Sirius as Lily and James would likely frequently find couple things to do, Marlene and Dorcus would be hiking everyday and Remus would seclude himself with ‘peace and quite for once’. Alone time with Sirius made you nervous because you were nearly, practically, almost one hundred percent sure that your feelings toward Sirius were not reciprocated. 

But that did not stop Lily from employing the raven haired boy to get you to change your mind. Which is how you found yourself conveniently alone with Sirius in the train compartment on the ride back from Hogwarts. “Pretty please, you can’t not go, everyone’s going,” in classic fashion with his little pout and his eyes widened. You tried to avert your gaze from his, knowing if you looked too long you’d give in. But this tactic failed miserably as Sirius simply moved back into your view, “I’m literally begging here, love,” and oh how he looked so pretty begging. “Please say yes, I cannot hear James or Lils complain the whole week. I need you there.”

He needed you there. That’s what he had said. And that one phrase spun a slew of delusional scenarios in your mind that led you to agree to join the rest of the group for the week. 

It wasn’t as bad as you originally anticipated in the beginning. The lot of you gathered at the Potter’s manor, utilizing the floo system for the trip to the cabin, that experience going surprisingly swimmingly for it being your first time. The first night at the cabin you guys decided on a bonfire. “It’s like christening the place,” James had said, with much encouragement from Sirius and much to the eye roll of Remus. “We’ll go get drinks started!” Lily grabbed your arm, pulling you up from your chair and back towards the door of the cabin, “any requests or all we good with surprises?” 

James Dorcus and Remus laid out drink orders while Marlene said you could surprise her. You turned to Sirius as he spoke next, “You know my drink, don’t you love?” You bit the inside of your cheek, hoping the heat you felt wasn’t making itself prominent as a blush on your cheeks, “Firewhiskey with cola, right?” Sirius winked, nodding in confirmation and the swarm of butterflies in your stomach started humming. 

Back in the kitchen Lily was practically vibrating with excitement. You let out a long sigh, “Something got you worked up Lils? Wanna share with the class?” Lily wore a small grin as she filled all the glasses with ice, “I’m just thinking about what I saw and if you saw it too.” You halted in filling Sirius's glass, resting both hands on the counter in front of you, “What do you think you saw? Because James’s googly eyes over you is basically a daily occurrence, I didn’t think it’d have you this excited still.” Lily rolled her eyes at your statement, “I’m very clearly talking about Sirius and you.” 

You made a scrunched face at this, “There’s nothing between me and Sirius. Well, like we’re friends, obviously, but you know there’s nothing more.” Lily shrugged, a slight curl to her lips as she continued making drinks. “Lils, please. He doesn’t like me like that. It would never happen and honestly…” you grabbed a few glasses in your hands, “I’m coming to terms with that.” You were not coming to terms with it. But it would be far easier than having all your friends thinking you’re hopelessly pining after him. What doesn’t help is Lily’s next response, “I dunno, babes. I could see the two of you together.” She slid the back door open with her elbow before walking back onto the deck, calling out that drinks were ready.

That one comment had you reeling, overanalyzing every interaction and conversation you had ever had with Sirius. You barely even registered that he spoke to you when you handed him his drink before taking your seat in the lawn chair next to his. You glanced his way when you felt his stare after a moment, “Sorry, Siri, did you say something?” Sirius smiled sweetly at you, a hint of something you couldn’t read in his eyes, “Just a thanks for the drink, love.” The commonplace pet name had your cheeks aflame but you prayed to Merlin the light of the bonfire hid the evidence. 

As the night went on and the drinks flowed, everyone was eventually corralled inside for what James called a “mandatory game of beer pong” after Lily agreed to play (and be his partner) with the promise that everyone would play ‘the muggle way’, no use of magic for assistance. Everyone agreed and placed their wands on the counter and paired up, you finding yourself partnered with Sirius. Remus stated he would be the officiant to “help keep Sirius and James in line and following the rules” much to their promises to play cleanly. “Ready, partner?” Sirius called you up to the table, dropping the ping pong ball in one of the cups closest to him. You nodded, a tight lip smile on your lips to try and help hide the nerves that were brewing inside. 

You looked across the table at Lily and James, the red head trying to conceal her smirk as she looked from you to Sirius and back. You rolled your eyes with a slight smile before Sirius started smack talking James. “Oh you’re in for it now, Potter. You and your little Lilly flower are cute and all, but you’re no match for me and y/n/n here, isn’t that right, love?” Sirius held his hand out palm up, clearly waiting for you to slap it. You gave him a high five and a small nervous laugh, “Y-yeah, right.” 

To your surprise Sirius was actually correct; James and Lily were horrible at beer pong, but you and Sirius looked like seasoned champions. The game against them went rather quickly, James sulking against Lilly on the couch as Marlene and Dorcus re-racked the red cups. This game proved to be a little more difficult, the girls being able to really go toe to toe with you and Sirius, you were down to two cups left to sink, while Marlene and Dorcus only had three cups. Marlene stood tall at the end of the table, ping pong ball in hand. She closed one eye, Dorcus semi-slurring encouragements to her before Marlene gave the ball a light toss. 

You watched as the ball arched in the air coming down towards one of the last three cups. The ball began the swirl around the rim of the cup and your next actions were more on instinct than real knowledge or skill of the game. You bent down near the cup, giving a quick blow of air near the ball before watching the physics of the combination making the ball jump from the cup and land back onto the table. Sirius let out a gleeful noise of shock, whereas Marlene and Dorcas began protesting, “Hey! We said no magic! Remus, that’s a foul we get that cup right?!” Sirius, however, was quick to go to your defense, “Nuh-uh, there was no magic involved, that’s just how good y/n/n’s blowing abilities are!” 

Your eyes widened in shock at his words, Dorcas rattling off a teasing remark before Sirius could correct himself, “Oh? And how would you know about her blowing abilities, Black?” The drinks were getting to you slightly, a small giggle bubbling from your throat as Sirius tried his best to defend himself, “I, well…erm, that’s not what I meant…I-I mean,” he turned to face you, his eyes half lidded as they made contact with yours, “Don’t you look at me like that, love.” A lazy smile adorned your face, “I’m not looking at you any kind of way, Siri.” 

Sirius shook his head in disagreement, “You’re giving me those eyes.” You batted your eyelashes a few times, “I’m not giving you any special eyes. Besides, if you’re wanting to know about my abilities, you can just tell me.” Sirius’s eyes widened before he let out a huff of air through his nose, “No, I don’t, I want to- I mean, you did the, the thing- and then Dorcus said what she said and so I just - I, erm, n-no I’m good.” While you laughed a little at his stumbling, you couldn’t deny the pit growing in your stomach the longer he tried to find nice ways to essentially reject your playful advance. 

Luckily you didn’t have to hide your dejection for long as you and Sirius lost to the girls and now your solemn look could be explained by the loss of the game instead of the loss of any chance you had with Sirius. You gave him a half-hearted smile before going to find a seat on one of the couches as James and Lily went to play against the winners. You only half paid attention the game, every interaction with Sirius from the night playing back over and over in your mind. Why did he have to be so bloody hard to read? 

To even get you on this trip in the first place he said he needed you there. But you don’t speak two words to each other in any capacity until everyone arrived at James’s manor. Even there it was only long glances, which could have been strictly initiated by you. Although you could have sworn he was already looking your way one or two times when you made eye contact. Here at the cabin you knew his drink, because of course you did. Was he teasing you earlier when he asked?

But he also winked at you. And he’s been calling you love, and made that comment about your ‘blowing skills’. But he does make dirty jokes a lot. You really would be a perfect couple though, all of your friends told you so whenever you talked about him, sometimes even when you didn’t talk about him. People wouldn’t say that to you just to be mean to you, I mean, these were your best friends. But he also essentially rejected your flirtatious advances. Why was this so hard to- 

A ring clad hand was waving in front of your face causing you to blink several times before refocusing on the object of your delusional thoughts. Sirius had his ever present charming grin, a special glint in his hooded eyes, “Caught you daydreaming about me again, didn’t I, love?” Maybe it was the liquid courage, but the words came tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them, “Don’t be mean, Sirius.” 

Sirius quirked an eyebrow, “What do you-” Rather ungracefully, you cut him off, “Just because you know I have a crush on you doesn’t mean you can tease me like everyone else does. It’s honestly humiliating enough.” Sirius’s once smirking features changed to that of confusion, “It’s humiliating to have a crush on me?” You groaned in frustration, covering your face with your hands before looking down at your feet, “Yes, Sirius, it’s humiliating to have a raging crush on someone that clearly has no interest or feelings toward me beyond platonic friendship.” 

The cool metal of his rings felt like ice against your flamed skin as he forced you to look at him, “Who said my feelings were strictly platonic?” You opened your mouth to respond before quickly closing it again. You sat up straighter then, Sirius’s hand dropping from your chin, “Well, you did, you said that. Back during the game, when Dorcus was teasing us and I asked if that’s what you wanted. You basically stumbled over a way to tell me you were uninterested in my advances.” 

His melodic laugh filled your ears. You were ready to smack him for being so rude before he started giving you a viable response. “Sweetheart…I wasn’t trying to reject you,” you looked up to meet his eyes once more as he continued, “I responded that way because you had me flustered, you…kind of always make me feel that way.” He scratched the back of his head nervously, “I didn’t really know how to respond properly when Dorcus made that remark. And, erm, I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable by admitting I probably, erm, wouldn’t mind finding out how good your,” he gulped slightly, “abilities are.” 

Your gaze fell to his lips before meeting his eyes once more; Sirius bit his lip, trying to hold back what you were sure was a shit-eating smirk. His hand cupped your cheek gently, “Can I?” You gave a small nod as you leaned in, Sirius closing the remaining distance before capturing your lips with his. This was not a fiery, passionate, kiss. But soft, gentle and sweet. His lips slotted against yours as though they were always meant to be there. 

His fingers entangled slightly in your hair, pulling you closer to him. You braced yourself with a hand on his thigh. A small whimper drifted from Sirius’s throat at the extra physical contact, wanting to fuel you further. What felt like two small, solid objects pelted both you and Sirius, causing you both to pull away from each other in confusion. “Don’t partners usually only make out when they win a game, not when they lose?” Marlene teased lightly. You looked over at Lilly who gave you a wink. One thing was for sure, you were not going to doubt her again.

[babywriter]

Yeah, graduating from college felt pretty good. And, hey, you were leaving without debt! Actually, soon enough, you’ll have enough to buy a house. A little help from the parents here, a little scholarship there, a little paid internship here. I mean, things were really good. The only real downer here was your love life. Or social life even. It went real south, real fast. First thing was when you broke up with your boyfriend. It just…wasn’t working out. But then, one of your best friend, Eric, seeing as you were now single, decided to spill his feelings for you. Bad call on his part, you two stopped talking.

It’d been almost two years since you’d seen Eric, but then you got a text from him out of the blue. Strangely enough, his profile picture was that of a girl and his name was…Erica? You thought Eric was this straight cis dude, turns out he wasn’t! While you did miss Eric, you weren’t sure you would’ve answered a text from him. Erica on the other hand? You had hope that she was completely over you.

“Come in, come in.” said Erica’s mother. “She’s in the living room.”

You had been briefed that she was regressed. But still. This was a lot to take in. She was so pretty! And so cute! An absolute doll. But seeing a twenty-two-year-old woman dressed like that felt pretty weird. Pigtails, pacifier…a toy in her hand and a frilly dress on her. She looked so sweet, though. Then, you saw that huge bulking diaper.

When you talked to Erica, it felt like talking to your old friend, but a childish and feminine version of that old friend. A side you hadn’t really seen. She’d been regressed for a while now and, as it turns out, was into men! You did feel a bit giddy about that news. She wasn’t going to be into you anymore! Not only that, but it seemed you’d just made a girlfriend. Erica was easy to talk to and you were both so open to each other and you got to gush about your love troubles with the guys you were seeing recently and Erica got to daydream about wanting a big strong daddy to pick her up.

After a few hours, Erica’s diaper was soaked and needed changing. This was your signal that it was time to leave. But you couldn’t help yourself and offered to adopt Erica or at the very least babysit her. To have a babygirl like that would be so, so much fun, you thought.

When leaving Erica’s house, you daydreamed of a life with a boyfriend and your babygirl. Able to live your fantasy of a family life while giving your babygirl the mommy and daddy she wants. You could take her to the park, change her diapers, breastfeed her. All the mommy things! Your boyfriend wouldn’t be threatened after all Erica was a girl in diapers, a baby! And Erica wouldn’t mind one bit you’d have a boyfriend to have sexy time and go on dates with. I mean, what a life!

Photo credit: adultbabysource.com

For more stories by me: https://reamstories.com/babywriter

[colorfulbard]

Random headcanons about Katakuri and his wife

This is based on the short one shot I wrote for Katakuri. You don’t have to read it to understand. I just thought it’d be fun to write a couple of things about their family in that fic. I'll probably think of more random headcanons for fun.

Taglist: @emmaiscool22 @i-am-vita @mercymccann @tazuduck Hope you guys don't mind me tagging you in this. I know you enjoyed the fic, so I hope you enjoy this while I hey part 2 done.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿꒰͜͡ ♡ ͜͡꒱‿︵‿︵‿︵‿꒰͜͡ ♡ ͜͡꒱‿︵‿︵‿︵‿꒰͜͡ ♡ ͜͡꒱‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

🧁You got married to Katakuri was 23, and you were 21.

🧁Ages now (🍓 represents how old you were when you had the kids)

Kata - 48

Reader - 46

First kid - 23 (🍓23) Boy

(2, 3, 4) Triplets - 21 (🍓25) Boy, Girl, Girl

(5, 6) Twins - 20 (🍓26) Boy, Girl

(7) one kid - 18 (🍓28) Boy

(8, 9) twins - 17 (🍓29) Boy, Boy

(10, 11, 12) triplets - 13 (🍓33) Girl, Girl, Girl

(13) one - 12 (🍓34) Boy

(14) one - 11 (🍓35) Boy

(15) one - 10 (🍓36) Girl

Names (💙Boy 🩷Girl)

1 Warabiko💙

2 Manju💙

3 Vanilla 🩷

4 Matcha🩷

5 Gelato💙

6 Apple🩷

7 Dorayaki💙

8 Caramel 💙

9 Maple💙

10 Peach🩷

11 Kiwi🩷

12 Mango🩷

13 Dango💙

14 Fritter💙

15 Madeline🩷

🧁Katakuri was petrified of having kids. Marrying you didn't help that fear either.

🧁What if after waiting 9 whole months, your baby comes out looking exactly like him? With his fangs to match.

🧁In his mind, you'd be disgusted, like his mother was, and neglect your children.

🧁Meanwhile, you were daydreaming how adorable your kids would be if they were a mini version of your husband.

🧁You had two years of Katakuri all to yourself. Then came your first child, Warabiko. He was a result of Big Mom pressuring the two of you to hurry it up. If you had it your way, you would have waited a little bit longer.

🧁You knew Katakuri was holding her off as long as he could for you, but you could see how stressed he was. That's when you suggested to start trying and that you were ready. You never told him the truth.

🧁Despite the stress of Big Mom on your ass, you still loved Warabiko more than anything.

🧁He looked exactly like his father. Katakuri was worried you'd be upset, but you were so happy.

🧁You clutched him to your chest and cried. "He looks just like you, Kata!" You had squealed.

🧁Although you had to admit, you were slightly disappointed he didn't come out with Kata's fangs.

🧁Every child you had after that wasn't a result of Big Mom pressuring you. It was you jumping Katakuri every chance you got.

🧁It wasn't your fault he was constantly training without his vest and scarf on.

🧁One time, he was carrying one of the babies like that. Needless to say, that's how your first set of triplets came.

🧁Katakuri could take some of the blame. He knew exactly how to rile you up. That's why he always had his scarf and vest off whenever he was training, but you didn't need to know that.

🧁He was a bit too embarrassed to outright ask you. That's why he always resorted to taking his vest and scarf off. He knew you'd lightly tease him if he did ask.

🧁The whole 9 months you were pregnant with Warabiko were spent convincing Katakuri to take his scarf off when he was taking care of the baby.

🧁"I can't. My face will probably make them cry." He'd say, turning away from you.

🧁You'd pout at him. "No, they won't! They won't even understand that other people think it's "scary"." You put air quotes around scary.

🧁Sure enough, you were right. Warabiko loved seeing his father without his scarf. And the second Katakuri put it on, he immediately began to scream at the top of his lungs.

🧁You laughed when Katakuri was forced to take off again. "It's like he thinks you went away! How cute!"

🧁Every child after that behaved the same way Warabiko did. They refused to see him with his scarf on.

🧁You could never get over how much of a natural Katakuri was at fatherhood. Seeing him be so doting and sweet with the kids just made you wanna have more.

🧁He probably got good practice from taking care of his own siblings.

🧁You'd probably catch up with Big Mom sooner or later at this point. But could anybody blame you when your husband looks like that?

🧁Every name that your children got was a result of your pregnancy cravings. Sure, it was silly, but you liked how all the Charlotte kids have dessert themed names.

[confiaenanaa]

Hello,how are you? I saw your post asking for fic ideas so here's one I hope you like it

Assistant reader who has worked with Eminem since the beginning of his career, the public and his kids love her, the kids always goes to her for advice and see her as part of the family . Marshall admires her and her relationship with his kids, He has always been attracted to her, but he respects her a lot and thinks she can find someone better, They are very close and know each other like no one else. They have fight a few times but she would always go to him and put some sense into his head and they would make up. Maybe she could have an accident or become very ill and end up in the hospital, he is terrified at the prospect of losing her. They get so stressed about the situation that they have a very serious fight, he says a lot of shit and she sends him away. A few days pass and they don't talk to each other, he didn't want to apologize and decided to wait until she came back and fix the things like she always did, but the things he said during the fight really hurt her and she decided to resign from her assistant position, she sent an email with the details of her contract termination.

You decide what happens next.

PS: I really loved your writing, sorry for the long request, I like to detail things, if you don't like the idea or don't feel comfortable writing this you can completely ignore it please.

Hugs and bye (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆

my assistant - eminem

fem!y/n x Marshall Mathers

masterlist

synopsis: Y/N is Marshall's assistant. They're close and best friends until something goes wrong in her life...

A/N: hi! I know it's been a while, i've been super stressed with finals and stuff but i'm finally back on track and I wrote this. there's more to come since I have a ton of requests to have fun with! hope you enjoy this one. and i'm so glad to hear you liked my writing!

-Marsh!

-What?!

-Dre’s on the phone for you! Something about needing you to re-record something!

Marshall groaned from his office. Y/N giggled at his antics, he really could be a grump at times. She continued to put away files and work on his busy schedule, something she’d done every day for years. 

Y/N had been Marshall’s assistant since what felt like forever, and it sort of was. Ever since his career took off, she’d been by his side. She did her job well, and never gave anyone on the team any reason to doubt her abilities. Not to mention she was always the go-to for advice. Marshall was always asking for advice; situations big or small, his mind always went to call Y/N. And his kids did the same. And his friends. And his team. 

The public always wondered about their relationship, about what happened behind closed doors. “She and I are just close friends. That’s all.” And truthfully, that was all there was to it. They were friends. Though he’d often find himself wondering and daydreaming about what it’d feel like if they were more, he always stopped himself before it could get any deeper. He knew she deserved better. She was smart, kind, and hilarious. Surely, she’d find another man more attractive and muscular and smarter and funnier. Surely, she wouldn’t want a man like him. But, in actuality, they were both stuck in a cycle of feeling this way. She felt he deserved someone who related to him more. Someone prettier, someone more famous. Why would he want an accountant when he could easily have a bombshell? 

Everyone around them knew how they felt about each other, except, apparently, them. They knew each other inside and out. Marshall knew all of her nervous tics; like her lip biting, finger picking, leg bouncing, pen tapping, and arm crossing. And, in return, she knew all of his icks; loud chewing, gum popping, loud singing, loud speaking, fingernail tapping, and slurping. They could read one another like books, unless, of course, it came to romance. 

Y/N had been to enough family dinners at his house to know this. She was basically a Mathers herself. She became a Mathers when Hailie got her first period and Marshall had no clue on what to do. When she told him what to buy at the supermarket while she washed Hailie’s bed sheets and clothes. When she helped Hailie with her first breakup. And she became a Mathers when Marshall started his journey with sobriety and she was with him the whole time. Marshall admired her greatly. He admired her bravery and courage, her kindness and empathy, her ambition and perseverance, it seemed like everything life threw at her, she could easily push past it. He respected her a lot. He also respected how much a perfectionist she was. She made sure her nails were properly painted and if not they looked well groomed; cuticles always cut, nails long and strong, filed to perfection. Her hair was done meticulously, clearly also well taken care of. Her skin had a light glow to it. Marshall admired this for years. He admired and respected every aspect about her, she was like family to him. 

However, like friends and family do, there were always a few quarrels. When Y/N was on her period and already in a sour mood, and Marshall decided that would be a good day to be a brat and complain about everything. Y/N adored him, but he could be really childish at times. He whined one too many times and she’d snapped at him. It escalated into an argument that Dre had to promptly break up. Or when Marshall was upset because he had writer's block and Y/N asked if it was really that hard to write a song. He snapped at her too. But, in the end, they always made up. In all honesty, it was usually Y/N that would fix things. She’d go over to him and no matter who was right or wrong, she’d say it was silly and smack him upside the head for staying upset. 

The symptoms started mild. A bit of dizziness and fatigue. Walking up the stairs got harder, standing up suddenly quickly became a threat. Marshall and the others had noticed it, but decided not to mention anything. Health business is private business. Then, she started getting weaker. She was fatigued after just walking from the office back to her desk. She got pale. She no longer had that glow to her. Hailie asked Marshall what was wrong, but even he didn’t know. 

She was always short of breath. When she talked, she occasionally slurred her words. She’d stumble through the hallway, just trying to make it back to her desk. This went on for months. In the beginning, Marshall took the pallor and fatigue as stress and exhaustion from work. He no longer complained, instead taking on some of her duties in an attempt to alleviate her. He saw nothing changed, in fact, it only worsened. 

She started having heart palpitations. They became more frequent as the weeks flew by. When she’d hug her friends or set a hand down on someone’s arm, they’d notice that they were cold as ice. Her nails, something she once cared for, were now brittle. Her hair, once shiny and well put together, was now thinning and falling like a withering tree in the fall. 

Almost a year had passed since the symptoms started. It was a somewhat normal day in the studio. Y/N walked in with Marshall’s weekly schedule in hand. Today, the windows weren’t coated with curtains like they usually were. Today, Marshall saw Y/N in the natural light. He noticed how pale she’d become. How her hair was now messy and thinned. How she looked almost malnourished. 

He loved her the same, but he was concerned. He asked her to sit beside him on the couch, looking towards the others in the studio. Certainly the others had to have noticed her dire state. She sat carefully, moving slowly in an attempt to not exhaust herself too much. Her eyes darted around the room in confusion. Why was everyone looking at her like that? 

She sat there for a while, when she realized she needed to finish a document for Paul. 

-Shit!

-What? What’s wrong?

-I need to finish that paper for Paul. I’ll see you guys later.

Y/N stood up madly. Suddenly, she felt her body numb slightly and her eyes roll into the back of her head. She felt dizzy and everything around her felt surreal. She attempted to take a step forward, but instead, her entire body fell forward. Next thing she knew, it all went black. 

Marshall saw her stand up. She looked like she was going to hurl. She fell forward and with a thud, she hit the carpeted floor. Everyone in the room ran to her. There was a bustle of voices. Pandemonium broke out. Someone called an ambulance. Marshall couldn’t remember much, but what he did know was that now he was sitting in a hospital lobby. Awaiting any news about his best friend. 

The realization settled in. The panic came along with it. He realized that his best friend (and sort of the love of his life) was in a hospital bed right now, unsure of whether or not she’ll make it out of here. He knew he couldn’t lose her.

-It’s anemia. Her case was pretty severe, since it was left untreated for 11 months. She had an iron deficiency, most likely from not eating properly. It could’ve become deadly if she’d left it untreated for too long. 

-Anemia?

Marshall couldn’t believe it. All of the signs were there and he never did anything about it. As soon as they let him know she was conscious, he ran into the room. He saw her in the bed and felt a wave of emotions. He felt sad knowing that she was hurting, he felt happy that she was okay, and he felt rage that she let this get that bad and that he hadn’t noticed.

-Hey, Marsh. 

-Hey. Did you know you had anemia?

-Wow. Straight to the point. Um, not specifically but, like, I knew there was something wrong.

Marshall started to become upset. How was she so casual about this? If anemia is left untreated, it can result in death.

-And you didn’t do anything about it?

-Well, no. I didn’t expect anything serious?

-The doctor told me that you could’ve died if you didn’t treat it. And he said it was because you weren’t eating. Why weren’t you eating?

-Look, Marsh, I just assumed that it would go away after a while. I didn’t even notice it had gotten that bad. And I mean, I haven’t really had an appetite. I’ve been working a lot and I just think I was stressed. 

-Well, you should’ve told me you were feeling overworked! I could’ve helped you! You could’ve died Y/N! Doesn’t that go through your head!

-I’m sorry! I didn’t think it was that deep! 

-Yeah? Well it was. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. I came here thinking you got some crazy disease. I was so worried.

-I can’t control my appetite Marsh. And you didn’t have to come.

-Yeah, well, when you’re on your deathbed, alone, you’ll wish you might’ve listened to me. 

Y/N’s mouth stayed slightly ajar after that last comment. How could he say that to her? He saw the look on her face and immediately regretted it. He knew he was doing wrong. He knew that it was a terrible thing to say.

-Look, Y/N, I’m so sor-

-Get out.

-What?

-Get out, Marsh. Leave.

And leave he did. He went home that day and had a long night of processing. He concluded that he had a point, but he should’ve phrased it better; he also should have picked a better time to say it. But he didn’t want to apologize. For some unknown reason, he couldn’t find it within himself to go to her and apologize. Eventually, a week had passed. He figured that she’d come to him soon and they’d make up. However, he was proven wrong when he received an email that Paul had forwarded him that morning. The title read “My Resignation”. He began to panic, calling her and sending her countless texts.  

He then called Paul, hoping it was a mistake.

-Look, man. I don’t know what you said or did to her, but it must’ve been pretty fucked up. You better go apologize to her now. 

Marshall quickly hopped into his car and drove to her house. He parked his car in her driveway, seeing she was home. He knocked on the door furiously, hoping to get ahold of her. She opened the door only a few inches. Enough to see his face. She was about to close the door when he pushed it open. She stumbled back a bit. 

-What the hell do you want Marsh?

-Look, Y/N, I came to apologize. I can’t believe I didn’t do this sooner. I'm so sorry. I didn’t mean any of the bullshit I said. I was just scared. I never meant to hurt you or make you feel bad. Especially since you were the one in the hospital bed. When I was the one in trouble, you never did any of that shit to me. I’m so sorry Y/N.

Y/N sighed deeply. As upset as she was with him, she couldn’t stay mad. She was starting to look like her old self again, Marshall realized. She got her glow back, her hair was looking thicker; she looked like she did before. Still a little thin, but back to somewhat normal. 

Y/N smiled weakly. She knew she couldn’t be mad at him forever, and this was silly. Marshall looked at her face, smiling, and he realized just how much he loved her. He looked at every feature he’d fallen in love with; her eyes, bright and curious, her lips, pretty and cute, her cheeks, slightly indented with all the smiling she does, but still beautiful. He knew he needed her, and without thinking, he leaned down and connected his lips with hers. It was passionate and sweet. The kiss contained all the words that need not be spoken. When he pulled back, she was smiling like an idiot, wide eyed. 

He knew that from then on, he would love her a little harder.

[courtingchaos]

Ok, i thought i'd give you a few options.

Having to fuck your way out of a speeding ticket or a possession charge or something with gator

or

flashing Steve on a dare at a party because boobies

or

Eddie being a clueless, naive knob when his crush comes on to him in increasingly obvious and suggestive ways and he just can't put two and two together until she's forced to grab him and be like, hi. hello. I'm trying to fuck you here. please compute.

Sorry if these seem stale. I'm not the most creative and they're all smut because I'm a degenerate too. Love your writing :)

Eddie being a clueless, naive knob when his crush comes on to him in increasingly obvious and suggestive ways and he just can't put two and two together until she's forced to grab him and be like, hi. hello. I'm trying to fuck you here. please compute.

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

A record store meet-cute with Indiana’s most oblivious guitarist.

Warnings: Blow job and fingering, that’s it that’s all have fun.

A/N: Okay look, for one? Not stale at all. Also, degeneracy supremacy for all. This did the trick and in fact I also wrote the Gator prompt too because that was fun. However Steven eludes me lately so while I wanted to make all the dreams come true, alas I could not. These might not be exactly what you were aiming for? But there’s smut? And they’re fun? Meh, thank you for sending these in friend! Also I think I inadvertently channeled my dearest @chestylarouxx with this one so you know it’s gotta be good.

Gator will get posted separately.

18 + NSFW No Minors

He’s in the store all the time, always on your shift and usually finding you with whatever question he has like when he can’t find a new release or someone has misfiled a vinyl. He asks your opinion on the new releases and laughs when you roll your eyes, a scoff thrown at a new Madonna single. He’ll give you a shocked look when you tell him that you do in fact like Heart and also when you try to explain the shared root between his beloved thrash and the current punk scene.

Despite his affection for arguments with you he persists with toothy grins and a constant promise to ‘show you some real music’ sometime. There’s an undercurrent with your conversations, a feeling of flirting, like when he pulls that chunk of hair across his face while he tells you about his band. He gets bashful when you show interest and ask if it’d be cool if you went and all you can imagine is that dark hallway in the back of the bar and what he might look like under that dimming, yellowing light. It earns you a short nod and one of those smiles, lips tight over his teeth while his dimples dig craters into his pink cheeks. He says he’d love it. Says he can’t wait to see you. Says he’ll let the guys know they’ve got a number one fan now.

So when you get to the end of said night, after the fairly big crowd and all his other friends have filtered out, after his band has almost put up most of the equipment, after he’s collected their cut of the entry fees, you linger. Sitting at the end of the bar with your beer that you’ve been nervously picking the label off of for 20 minutes, waiting on him to make his way over. He taps the bar top and thanks the owner and starts his meandering walk toward you, counting back ones from the roll in a practiced hand. He looks like all the little daydreams you’ve had while watching him wander around the record store, dark hair damp from sweat and curling around his ears. His thin tee clings to him like his jeans cling to him and your heart hammers at the thought of pulling him back those few feet into that blessed, dingy hallway.

“You guys put on a hell of a show.”

“Oh you think so?” He looks up from his money and grins at you, the only girl in the room it would seem. You nod and laugh and start to pluck up your courage when one of the waitresses walks out of the back and squeals before grabbing his bicep and squeezing.

“Oh my god Eddie! You did so good tonight!” You can see her nails pressing into his skin and how his cheeks flame at her praise and suddenly you think you maybe misread this whole thing. “I told you there were gonna be more people this weekend!” She pulls him down and into her space, her nose scrunched up with a big smile for him.

“Thanks Vic.”

“I told you Robin would work miracles with those posters.” She gives him a final squeeze and gets back behind the bar to tie her apron on. He watches her walk down the bar until she takes an order and his gaze slides back to you, a little sheepish.

“Sorry about that.” He shoves the wad of cash in his front pocket and leans on the bar next to you. “You enjoyed it though?” He gives you a wide eyed look, anticipation rounding out his bambi eyes.

“Yeah.” It comes out more clipped than you meant so you clear your throat and direct your gaze back at your peeled Budweiser label. “Yeah, exactly like you said it would be.” A wide smile that you don’t let hit your eyes. Eddie shifts a little, his demeanor softer than it was before, his post show swagger gone when he tilts his head down to try and catch your eyes glued to your bottle.

“You sure? You just seem-“

“I-I’m sorry, it’s actually just-before I came out tonight I found out I need to open so.” You rush it out at him, glancing at your watch and never once noticing the actual time. “I didn’t want to just leave, but I gotta get going I’m sorry.” You shrug at him, half apologetic while you dig a five out of your wallet and toss it on the bar. “Hopefully I’ll see you on Tuesday though? Souls of Black is coming out!” You toss that over your shoulder to give your abrupt departure a bit of a softer hit. Eddie yells something after you that you pointedly ignore and you try your hardest to not kick the door open into the muggy night.

Tuesday morning and you pull a cassette from the display to hold on to. Not like it’s flying out the door but you know Eddie will beeline for you first thing, no matter what far corner of the store you’re occupying. You keep it tucked into one of the pockets on your half apron so you don’t forget it and so you can pull a magic trick when he inevitably comes up and asks you even though he walked by the display.

Noon rolls by and you see nary a curl come through the front door. By 2 you’re hanging out at the register, a permanent fixture there while your coworker takes advantage of your fixation and putzes around in the back. At 4 you contemplate calling the police because this is the most strange behavior you’ve witnessed from Hawkins’s residential Weirdo and at 6, when you flip the sign over to tell everyone you’re closed, you start to think you might have fucked up. Carla, your coworker, reminds you of the cassette in your packet when you toss your apron at the register. A little crease between her eyebrows when she asks, “That for Eddie?”

“Yeah, I was gonna be funny and tell him I could pull stuff out of my ass.” You tell her with a dry laugh and stash the tape under the counter.

“He never misses a Tuesday.”

“Yeah, well, first time for everything.” You shrug.

5 PM Wednesday night brings a rainstorm to downtown and a drowning rat in the form of a drenched Eddie into your store. He shakes off like a Labrador in the doorway and grumbles when he has to peel his jacket off his clammy arms.

“Hey stranger.” You say behind a pop of your gum. Barely looking up from the rolling stone you’re reading when he stomps over to the new releases.

“You’re shitting me.”

“What?”

“There’s no god damn way a Testament album sold out in Hawkins.” He throws his arms up dramatically and lets them slap down onto his damp jeans. Again you barely look when you pick up the stashed tape and hold it aloft, waiting for him to finally turn around and see. “What, did Gareth come in here first and snag the only copy or something?” He snaps cases together angrily while he shifts through them and you almost tell him to quit pitching a fit but it’s a little fun watching him dripping all over the linoleum. His hair clings to his neck, his white ringer tee see through over his shoulder where the rain got in under his collar. You spare a moment to think about what the rain must taste like on him.

“Eddie.”

“Seriously! First my piece of shit van didn’t start yesterday again so I was late to the shop which in turn meant I didn’t get over here.”

“Ed.”

“And then this fucking storm shows up out of fucking nowhere and I’m fucking soaked and I don’t have my fucking tape-oh.” He turns, fist clenched in front of him like he’s tearing at invisible threads, and stops mid rant when he sees the rectangle in your hand. “Oh hello gorgeous.” He looks like he’s in love and he holds out his hands towards you, grasping your fist in both of his to gently shake it. You laugh at his dramatics and let out a yell when he hops onto the counter, ass planted directly on your magazine you were staring through.

“You’ve made me the happiest man in the world you know that?”

“I have that effect on a lot of guys.” A buff of your nails against your collar and Eddie huffs. He pulls his shoulders in and gives you a side eye that feels a little personal for a second.

“Well alright, statement still stands.” He reads the track list on the back, a slight squint of his eyes and you wonder briefly if he needs glasses. “You listen to it yet?”

“Psh, no.”

“Why not?”

Well, you’d had a plan since the terrible show night and you stomping out of there with your feelings hurt over nothing.

“No one else I know listens to them, thought you’d maybe like to listen to it together?” This is the most courage you’ve ever had, you think as you look up at him through your lashes. “It’s not like a big deal or anything but-“

“Can I borrow your phone?”

“What?”

“I mean yeah, obviously I’d love to listen together but I need to make a call first.” He flashes you that big smile again and you hand the store receiver over. That nervous knot that had begun to form in your stomach is all but gone with his revelation:

Obviously he’d love that.

Obviously! It’s been so obvious right? He’s your number one customer, he’d walked right for you in the bar, and now he’s vehemently agreeing to listening to this album with you, giddy with excitement.

“Hey! Jeff! Put your dick away we’re coming over.”

Jeff? Jeff his guitarist?

“No, I’m at the record shop I got it! Yeah, yeah she’s a real sweetheart she held a copy for me.” Eddie rolls his head to face you and gives you a wink. “I know, she’s the best right?”

Fucking Jeff? You stare at Eddie, dumbfounded, yet again questioning how you keep reading this man wrong. What part of ‘do you want to listen together’ qualified a third party?

“Yeah, we’ll be over after close.” Eddie hands you the phone to hang up and you go through the motions, turning your body away to stare at a spot on the counter so you can frown deeply without him noticing.

“This is gonna be great.” He claps his hands together before hopping down off the counter and pulling his wallet out to pay. “I can finally smoke you out like I’ve been promising.” He wiggles his eyebrows like he’s some kind of cartoon wolf and you feel like you’ve missed a step on the stairs. What is he doing? Is this flirting? Does he use Jeff as a pawn in his games or is he just not picking up what your putting down?

“Yeah, it’ll be great, can’t wait.”

The hang out at Jeff’s wasn’t awkward but you think something is broken in your brain with how off the mark you seem to be.

You’d been aloof with Eddie when he’d first started hanging around you in the shop, not sure how to take his overly forward approach but he’d grown on you quick and the banter was good. He lobbed the conversation back and forth with you with practiced ease and really it was destined for you to find him charming. With his dimples and his music taste and his tattoos it was inevitable that you’d spend your afternoons shooting glances out the window, waiting for him to breeze in with a joke or another long winded story that he’d loose the thread for halfway through. He’d apologize and you’d laugh and sometimes he’d blush at you and that feeling that you thought was there?

Maybe it wasn’t.

You weren’t being particularly subtle with him. Friendly flirting it may be but your touches always lingered longer on his forearm, your lashes always fluttered at his nicknames and your giggles were sprinkled freely for him through his visits. Standard faire ‘come get me, I’m yours’.

Once again at work, mindlessly alphabetizing and sending yourself into a doom spiral you hear the bell above the door ring and a quick glance up makes you pause.

It’s the whole band this time, Eddie in the lead and heading straight for you.

“What now?”

He stops in his tracks, hand flying to his chest in mock affront. “To your favorite customer?!”

Jeff snorts and Gareth and Frank roll their eyes and immediately wander off to the record bins.

“You come in here with a purpose, I need to brace myself.”

“It’s not even for me!” Eddie whines and leans on your cart full of tapes. His rings clack against the plastic casings and catch the overhead lighting, distracting you for a second. “It’s for Gareth, we need to know what you have for a Jazz section.”

“Jazz?” These men confuse you with every new turn. Gareth has already found what he was looking for though, sitting on the floor and flipping through aging cardboard sleeves.

“What does he know about Jazz?” You ask Eddie when he wanders back over with you.

“Oh he was the drummer for the jazz band in high school, you don’t remember that?”

“No, I wasn’t in band.”

“Ah.” He’s leaning on the fixture you need to reorganize but you don’t want to ask him to move, the sunlight shining in at just the right angle to light up his features. You could kick yourself with how enamored you sound, especially when he seems to be woefully uninterested in you and your flirting.

“Hey Eddie?”

“Hm?” He turns to look at you over his shoulder, brown hair gleaming like satin in the sun. His eyebrows hitch up and he tucks his lip between his teeth to worry at it. A thousand little fantasies about that lip glide through your thoughts and you decide to give it one last go.

“Would you like to go out for a drink sometime?”

His lashes flutter at you while he processes your question, his guard down with no witty response lined up.

“Oh like…like w-when?” He’s not meeting your eyes anymore, hands shoved into his jeans pockets. He shifts back to lean his weight on his other leg and leans away. He clams up and distances himself. “Because we’re free tonight after you close, but I know it’s a week night and you might be busy or whatever.” He cocks his head over to the other three grouped around the record crates and you realize it finally.

He’s letting you down soft. He doesn’t hate you, at least there’s that. He’d like to hang out sure, but there isn’t a romantic undercurrent like you’ve been imagining.

“Uh, yeah, tonight works.” You shrug and turn off your emotions. There was a brief prickle of heat behind your eyeballs but you stomp your foot down on that, converse pinning that feeling down like a moth in a frame. “Whenever though, I don’t want to interrupt your plans.” That roiling in your gut squirms under the pinprick and finally stills and you make sure your smile reaches your eyes this time. Eddie agrees and tells the guys and when they’re all standing at the register to check out you keep your cool. The countdown begins when you start typing in the prices, just ten more minutes before they’re on their way out and you can stand in the back and cry. You think about Carla giving you that sad little look and you know it’ll be a waterfall for sure.

“What fresh hell-“ Eddie yells and pushes the door open, red and blue lights flashing for a second before the cruiser engine shuts off. “Hey! I’m not parked illegally!” He shouts out at the deputy holding the windshield wiper of his van up, ticket clutched in his fist. When all Eddie gets is a blank stare he rushes out, leaving his friends staring after him.

“This’ll go over well.” Jeff sighs and hands you cash. “You’ll get to hear about this tonight for 8 hours.”

“About that. I might need to reschedule actually.” You can feel the cracks in the dam and you really don’t want to cry in front of these people.

“Oh?” Gareth gives you a side eye, something slick and calculating. Your eyes dart out the window to see Eddie gesturing at the signs on the street and you sigh heavy, handing their bag over to them.

“Yeah, I just forgot what uh, umm…” Trying to find a good excuse is impossible and he sees it on your face for what it is, an excuse.

“Oh my god Frank you owe me twenty bucks.” Gareth holds out his hand without looking at his friend. “I told you she didn’t have a boyfriend.”

“What.” That stops whatever waterworks were about to spring a leak. Gareth is smiling the biggest shit eating grin and suddenly Jeff and Frank are laughing while money is exchanging hands. “What are you talking about.”

“I’m so sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Eddie is the biggest fucking idiot.” Gareth laughs and pockets his money. “Like, I love that man but he has no idea what is going on.”

They aren’t laughing at you but you still feel rooted to the spot, and since none of them have started sharing this secret yet you start to get antsy. Jeff takes pity on you finally and tells you all about Eddie and his current fixation. He tells you about all the stories they’ve heard about you. How cool you are. How hot you are. How you’ll talk music with him like no one else and how you give only the best recommendations.

“You know he listens to New Order now because of you?” Jeff asks with a smile. “Like, great band but Eddie listening to them? He’s got it bad.”

You reel behind the counter while the three of them nod their heads sagely at you.

“He thought you had a boyfriend.”

“What?”

“When you left the other night after the show? He thought you picked up on him trying to flirt and got upset. I told him it was because it looked like Vicky was flirting but he was convinced he fucked up.”

“I thought-“ You don’t know what you thought because it hadn’t been anything actually. You had been jealous and it seemed like it was over nothing.

“Listen, you should still come out tonight. We can talk some sense into him if you want.”

“No.”

“No?” Jeff looks impressed.

“No, I can talk to him.” You run through your daydreams and your interactions. All his dumb jokes and how he looked after his show. You think about your hallway vision and what it might feel like to press him up against that wall and press a confession out of him. “I’ll talk to him.”

You don’t dress up for The Hideout. It’s dive bar chic only but tonight?

Tonight after you run back to your place to change, you dig out your black and white polka dot dress, the one you’d bought because Cyndi Lauper had made it look so good. It’s always sat a little short in the back, the buttons never coming up far enough in the bust for your confidence level but now it’s perfect. It flutters around your thighs and while you try not to poke yourself in the eye with your liner you think about Eddie’s fingers fluttering along with it. Maybe he’d be precious about it, a stuttering mess when you finally explain it to him in clear tones just what you were trying to do.

The whole drive over you imagine what his hair must feel like sliding between your fingers, what the stubble on his jaw would feel like grazing your knuckles, and you almost run two red lights. You’ve been stockpiling courage since the bands little conversation with you but when you finally pull into the parking lot and spot his van, you have a moment of doubt.

Right until he comes into view, leaning into his driver side with his ass sticking out, and it rushes back in tenfold. He doesn’t notice you park but you notice him futzing with his lighter, sad sparks sputtering around the end of his cigarette. Your kitten heels clack on the pavement and he only looks up when you’re almost on him, your own lighter held out in your palm. “Need a light?”

Eddie freezes, hands cupped around his face. You can tell he’s fighting the urge to let his gaze roam downward and you’re really hoping he gives into it. “I didn’t know we had a dress code tonight.” He mumbles around the filter and finally has enough of a thought to drop his hands and take your lighter. It strikes on the first try but you see the slight quiver of his hands when his eyes finally drop to the deep plunge of your dress.

“Oh this old thing? I hardly wear it.” You give him a half turn, just enough to make the hem ripple and he coughs on his inhale.

“It looks good. Y-you look good.” He’s a stuttering mess. “Um, if you want the guys are already inside I was just…” Eddie trails off when you take enough steps to crowd his space and he backs into his open door. The hinges squeak under the pressure and he scrambles to grab onto the frame with his free hand.

“Eddie?” You ask sweetly and he visibly swallows. “I don’t really want to drink with the guys.” You reach over and gently pull his cigarette from his fingers, mostly out of fear he might drop it in his van.

“Oh?” He’s taking short breaths the closer you get and when you lay your hands lightly on his chest you can feel his heart going a mile a minute.

“Mhm.”

The door creaks under his white knuckles and he seems to be holding on for dear life.

“I asked you out for a drink, but this is good too.” Inched close enough that your whisper ghosts over his lips before you close that short distance. That first breath in he smells like his half a cigarette and his aftershave. When his brain finally catches up to what you’re doing he gasps against your kiss, a move that you use to your advantage. Your hands find homes behind his neck to hold him close while your tongue pushes its way past his lips and he moans into your mouth. Here he taste like the beer he’s been drinking and tobacco and you start to get lost him.

He breaks the kiss before you can deepen it, breaths huffed across your face when he drops his forehead to yours.

“Ohhh, I’m a big idiot.” He laughs out in a whisper. “A big, big fuckin’ idiot.”

“No, just a little slow on the uptake.” You can’t resists the urge to slide your fingertips into his hair and the eye roll it gets you is divine.

“I can’t believe I wasn’t picking up on this, I thought I screwed up a few weeks ago-“

“Ed.” You slide your thumb over to rest on his lips. “It’s okay, it doesn’t matter.”

“I know but-“

“I’m serious.”

“I still feel stupid-“

“Get in the van.” You cut him off when you’ve heard enough. His eyes go wide before he gives one jerky nod of his head and quiet ‘yes’ and climbs in, disappearing between the seats to the back. You give one look around the parking lot before climbing in and closing the door behind you, any modesty long gone when you have to crawl into the back and you know your dress is bunched up around your hips. In the dark it takes you a moment before you can adjust but there’s a hand wrapped around the back of your knee pulling gently to bring you down to his level. You’ve barely got his outline made out before he’s pulling you in roughly by the leg, his other hand planting hard on the nape of your neck to bring you in for a kiss.

He’s less unsure in the back of his van, moving you around to situate you where he wants you and he lets you push him back against the hard floor once you’re settled in his lap. Your hands push up his shirt while his palms run up your bare thighs, bunching up the thin cotton of your dress till he hits the high cut of your underwear. His laugh turns into a groan when you move quickly down his neck leaving wet, open mouth kisses in your wake. You push his shirt up high and let your teeth drag against his nipple, the hitching in his chest making you smile against sensitive skin. His fingers slide under the edges of your underwear to grab at the fat of your ass and you slide your own fingers under his belt to pull it open.

“Oh hey, you don’t-“

“I don’t what?” The buckle clinks against his wallet chain and it all hits the floor with a heavy thud. “I don’t have to do this?” You tug at his button while holding his gaze and pull his zipper down quick. “Do you want me to do this?” A pause after you pull his jeans open so he can answer you.

His chest heaves but he smiles wide, tongue poking out to run along his bottom lip. “Yes.” He nods at your smile and keeps nodding when you pull his jeans down his hips and when your hand edges under the waistband of his boxers and when you crawl backwards out of his grasp. “Please.” He begs on a breath he started to hold when your dress slid up your hips as you bent down to place a kiss next to his bellybutton. “Please please please.” He chants when your hand wraps firmly around him, your smile pressing into the soft part of his belly.

“Please? Please what, Eddie?” You ask between the dotting of kisses you leave along his hips and the excruciating slow drag of your hand. He squirms under you, his stare heavy on the top of your head where he watches you move further down. “Please more of this?” You roll your wrist to finally free him and the flushed pink tip of his cock glistens in the low light before it disappears in your fist. He lets out a stuttering groan and falls flat on his back to run his hands over his face harshly.

“Or please this?” The flat of your tongue runs up from the base and follows your hand, ending with a cheeky kiss at the tip. You think Eddie might be crying under his big palms with how much he’s shaking.

“Is it that?” Another long lick that pulls a deep breath out of him. You spare a glance up his body to catch him staring at you in the dark from between his fingers.

“Yes fuck-oh shit.” You spare him his grief and swallow him down, your lips meeting your fist and your tongue exploring the soft skin against it. Every ridge and vein gets attention and Eddie rolls his hips up to chase the pointed tip of your tongue. His hands finally come down from his face, no longer obscuring his view, but they hover over your head haltingly.

“You can touch me Ed.” You tell him after popping off his cock wetly. When he stalls for a moment too long your pull a hand to fall on the crown of your head and his fingers slide in automatically, hair held gently between his knuckles. His hand tenses the same as his thighs when you wrap your lips around him again, humming at the taste as he hits the back of your throat. He makes breathy noises above you that choke off when your tongue swirls to match the twist of your hand. You bury your face down until your nose hits his bush and when you swallow around him he lets a string of slurred curses go into the roof, both hands sliding into your hair to grip tight.

You come up for air and to see his face go slack, eyes hazy where he follows the string of spit still connected to your lip and the tip of his cock.

“I didn’t know this is what going for a drink meant.” He tries to crack a joke but between his unfocused eyes and the hitch in his voice you laugh for a different reason.

“I did mean a drink actually, but this is a lot more fun.” Your hand speeds up, slick sounds loud in the back of his van and his eyes roll. You like watching him loose his mind, his hair pulled at and cheeks pink from the flush that creeps up from his chest. The urge to sink your teeth in along his ribs itches at the back of your mind until you can’t ignore it anymore and you attack him, hand trapped between the two of you still working him while you nip at his side. His laugh tumbles into an almost squeal and then a low moan when the head of his cock rubs against your thigh and he ruts up into your hand to chase the heat of your skin. You notice his sudden urgency and make your way back between his knees.

“Now I know it doesn’t look like it,” you lick your palm and continue jerking him off, “but I don’t put out on the first date.”

“This is a date?” He asks dazedly.

“It can be.” You smile at him before dropping your mouth on him again, bobbing up and down quicker this time.

“Oh fuck-“ His hands grip at your hair again, trying to pull back gently at first before he’s a little more insistent. “H-hey.” He tries again and you just stare up at him and hum, tongue running over that sensitive spot under the head of his dick. He must see the grin on your face because he finally drops his head back with a thud and he’s inadvertently bucking his hips up and gasping your name.

“Fuck fuck please don’t stop.” He bargains with you and the whine at the end of his words makes your stomach flip. You can feel the dampness between your thighs, your own arousal ignored in favor of making Eddie go stupid. With him toeing the edge of oblivion and whimpering about it though you almost wish you had just fucked him, if only to chase your own end.

You get a couple of courtesy taps and a whiney ‘no wait-‘ before he finally stills, a gasp caught in his chest that finally shudders out when he comes. His big hands cradle the back of your head when you swallow around him pulsing until he’s hissing and then he’s busy pulling you up to meet him halfway for a bruising kiss.

In the afterglow you realize you’ve had your whole ass out and anyone walking by his van could have seen you through the windshield. You only get a moment of embarrassment though before he’s moving into you and pushing you into the back of his driver seat.

“Hey we can-“ He pushes his face up under your jaw and cuts you off with open mouth kisses from your ear to your shoulder sitting bare under a hanging neckline. “We can go in for that drink now if you want.” You giggle at his eagerness and his hair tickling down your dress. He hasn’t even put himself together yet and he’s already got his hands on a mission, fists pulling and bunching up the fabric of your dress.

“I don’t want to go in for a drink.” He parrots your line back to you and carefully plucks at the big button keeping the top of your dress together. “I would like to express my sincere gratitude,” He works the button open one handed and catches your eye before dipping his fingers under the thin fabric and into the cup of your bra, “and deepest apologies,” the rough pad of his fingertip grazes a sensitive nipple and you bite your lip while your lashes flutter at him, “for being the worlds most ignorant individual.” He finishes on a whisper before he kisses you, plush lips soft and seeking like his hand now slowly working its way up your inner thigh. The tip of his pinky grazes along the edge of your underwear when his tongue slides along the seam of your lips and you grant him access to everything, knees falling apart and mouth molding to his.

This may not be your little dingy hallway inside but it’s better than any work daydream you’ve had about him. He slides your underwear down and pulls at your knee, spreading you open for him to run a finger in the crease of your hip. That earns him stifled whine from you and he tuts quietly. “Don’t be quiet.” His free hand pulls the shoulder of your dress down so he can plant a kiss there. “I gotta earn my forgiveness.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, it worked out.” You press your forehead into his and grin at him, stars in both your eyes you’re sure of it.

“Yeah but we could have been doing this so much sooner.” Just the slide of his finger through your folds makes you shiver, the wet sound of you loud in the quiet. “And look at me being ignorant again.” Two fingers this time, sliding up to find that small bundle of nerves that makes your head drop back. Eddie busies himself at your neck again, chest pressed into you and pinning you in place, fingers running tight circles over your clit. “Ignoring you in need.” His tongue worries at a spot behind your ear, an attempt to get you to relax into him and he dips his fingers down to gather your slick. “Let me help you out and maybe I’ll let you buy me a beer.”

You laugh and he sinks those two fingers in to hear you gasp and he wastes no time in his search for the right angle. He starts a quick pace that makes your breath catch in your chest and those musician fingers hone in on the spot that makes your legs jump.

“Oh is that it?” He bites softly at your neck stretched out under his mouth and laughs against your heated skin when you let out a strangled ‘uh huh’.

“Right there?” He flutters his fingers over and over, your thighs twitching with every brush. The heat pools fast in your abdomen especially with him mouthing at any skin he can find. You feel like you’re melting against him, the heat trapped between you and his fingers moving ceaselessly and when he angles his hand to press his thumb onto your clit you roll into him, thighs holding his arm in place.

“That’s it.” He murmurs and it’s your turn to bury your face, mouth hung open on a silent gasp against his chest.

“Eddie, please!”

“Please what?” He uses your words against you in play. “Please this?” A deeper brush of his fingertips and he grinds his hand against you. Your groan shakes deep out of your chest and before that band snaps to send you over the edge your hand winds up in his hair to hold on. It’s a quick push when your orgasm hits and Eddie doesn’t stop, not with you pulling his hair and gasping against his chest, not until you have to pull away, lightheaded and chest heaving.

“So I think that’s a good first apology, right?” He says into your hair, hand still trapped between your thighs.

“First?”

“Yeah I mean I have at least four more to make.” He removes his hand gently and finds your ruined underwear to wipe his fingers off, all while giving you a sly side eye.

“Are they all gonna be like that?” You feel boneless in the stifling heat of his van. He shifts and pulls you with him, slotting you between his legs so you can stay laying against his chest.

“I mean, they don’t have to be.” He sighs.

“No, no I like these kind of apologies.” You giggle against him and he pulls the hem of your dress down back over your hips. “Just maybe not always in the back of a van?”

“Oh no, I’ve got all kinds of places in mind. I Can say sorry in that little hallways inside,” your eyes go wide in the dark where he can’t see, “I’m sure you have a back room at work I can sneak into.”

“Oh my boss will love that.”

“Shit, I can find a corner in the garage no one uses, really the possibilities are endless.”

You know someone has to have noticed Eddie being gone for so long and you expect a tap on a window any minute but for now you stay tucked up against him. You’ll buy him his drink when his friends discover his fogged over van.

[dpimagines]

Hot Date (Blind Date pt. 2)

First and foremost, I want to thank everyone for the amazing show of support for Blind Date! I've never received so much support and appreciation for a fic, EVER! Words cannot express how grateful I am.

SYNOPSIS: Your second date with Wade went well, so now it's time for the third. (And what could be considered the fourth.)

WARNINGS: Smut, reader has been cheated on in the past, everything else is standard Deadpool antics.

Your second date went just as well as the first — most of the words you asked for him to provide were swear words, hilariously enough. It’s not that you’ve never heard them before, though. You lose words if you haven’t heard them in a while, not to mention how loudly curses are often said. 

Now, it’s time for date number three, known in popular culture as the make-or-break date: you’ll agree (or disagree) to be exclusive, it’s socially acceptable to start having sex, all that fun (terrifying) stuff. You’ve had some casual coffee and lunch hangouts between your second date and now, but tonight will be your third official date.  

He doesn’t have any expectations, of course. He could tell from what you said on the first date that you’ve been hurt in the past.

 Who could bring themselves to hurt you? Wade thinks as he daydreams about your shy smile, your variety of laughters to offer him, your soft cardigans and sweaters, the silly faces you make at babies in public, and the sharp glares you give strangers when they stare at him for too long (oh, and the ones he gives them when he catches them staring at you.) 

He even finds his thoughts wandering to the way you speak to him — sure, you can’t pick the tones of the words, but your choice of them is all yours. You’re kind, clever, and honest in your words, in everything you do. 

Oh, shit, he realizes, his stomach dropping. I’m in love. 

You’d insisted on planning your date this time around, since he’d planned the previous two. You told him you’d be having a picnic and to make sure he dressed warm since fall is on its way and the nights are growing colder. He assured you that his healing factor made him run hot, but you insisted that he at least bring a jacket. 

He texts you, confirming you’re still on for dinner. You reply positively, but reading your text only has him missing your eclectic voice, or, rather, voices. Over the past few weeks, more and more of your words have been taken from him, but he still loves to hear the random country or British accent, the occasional shout… 

Your suggestive exclamations have completely faded from your vocabulary, interestingly enough. Wade may be softening up a little due to his relationship with you, but his more perverted side can’t help but wonder if it’s because you’ve started to prefer your imagination over what videos on the internet have to offer. Do you think about him? He definitely thinks about you, especially his hypothesis on the way you’d sound. Low, masculine grunts shifting to high-pitched, over the top whines and back, all for him.

Someone smacks him upside the head. 

“You’re daydreaming again. Why don’t you just go see her? She’s just as sickeningly obsessed with you,” Ellie complains, coming around the couch and plunking down on the opposite end. 

“Really?” he wonders. You’re super nice, sure, and you’ve agreed to continue seeing him despite, well, everything about him, but…

She rolls her eyes, smacking her gum. 

“Dude, yes. It’s annoying. She’s working right now, but I bet she’d appreciate the company. You remember where her office is, don’t you?”

Wade nods, getting up and taking off towards it. He has to keep himself from running, he’s so giddy. 

He knocks on your office door. 

“Just a minute,” you reply from inside. 

You open it, smiling once you realize who’s come to visit. 

“Hi, Wade,” you greet him. 

“Who’s that?” he asks. The voice with which you said his name is entirely unfamiliar. 

“Oh, I’ve been experimenting with AI voices,” you explain. “I figured it’d be WEIRD for you to keep hearing Ellie and Yukio say your name when it’s me.”

“A little weird, yeah, but it doesn’t bother me too much.”

You turn a little pink, your smile widening awkwardly. 

“Oh, you meant-! Yeah, no, that’d be kind of uncomfortable. I appreciate the effort. Sorry to bug you like this, I- Well, speaking of Ellie, she caught me daydreaming about you and told me I should just come see you.”

“Remind me to thank her later,” you reply. “It’s nice to see you.”

“It’s nice to see you, too, I mean, of course it is, or I wouldn’t have come, well, um…” He’s gotten better about talking around you, but he still trips all over his words. “Yeah. What are you up to?”

“I’ve actually had some down time today, so I’ve been working on-” You stop, grimacing as your happy blush deepens to an embarrassed one. You’ve lost the words. 

“Wanna show me?” he asks, grateful for the excuse to learn more about what you do. You nod, leading him to your desk. You sit down in the office chair and roll over, leaving him room to stand beside you. He looks back and forth between your monitors – on the one off to the side, a video of one of the Xavier’s School classrooms with subtitles by you; on the center monitor, a document with notes and practice questions. 

“A study guide,” he realizes, reading the title of the document. 

“Yes, a study guide,” you repeat. “Thank you. I noticed a lot of the students struggle when school starts up again, so I thought I’d take the time to put one together for the classes that don’t already have one.”

“That’s so awesome! Seems like you’re pretty busy, though. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree. 

And later, you do. Wade wanders around the courtyard looking for you, finding you sitting on a blanket with electric tealights spread all over it. The sun is just barely starting to set, but the extra light is nice nonetheless, not to mention how adorably romantic it all is. 

He jogs over to you, sitting next to you and finally taking in what you’ve put together. It has to be every kind of cheese known to mankind, like, eight different kinds of deli meat, and an insane amount of Club crackers, not to mention the strands of juicy green grapes curled in the corners, avocado slices, and even a pomegranate! 

“I’m sorry if it’s a bit much,” you tell him. “I was inspired by our conversation the other day about charcuterie boards and how we wish we could just eat them as meals. I also remembered what you said about your healing factor and how hungry it makes you.”

“No, no, this is perfect,” he breathes. No one’s ever done something so nice for him before. “Uh, there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.”

Your face goes pale, eyes widening. You’re bracing yourself for something, but what? Oh, no. You think this is going in the exact opposite direction from where it is. 

“No, it’s good, I mean, maybe. I just wanted to know if you were cool with the idea of us being exclusive. Y’know, not seeing other people? Going steady?” His elaborations get weaker as you stare at him, still wide-eyed. You lips part, and you…

You cackle wildly, gasping for air. You try to stifle it, holding onto his shoulder as the laughter completely overtakes you. Is the idea of being with him so humorous to you?

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you say once your hysterics wind down. “Wade, do you really think I’d be seeing anyone else?”

“Well, you’re very pretty… And nice… And funny…” he explains. “Why wouldn’t you be?”

“Well, one: I really like you. I’ve never felt so strongly about someone before. Two: you are the only one interested in me.”

“I just can’t believe that. Either thing,” he replies. 

“You better believe it, because my answer is yes, Wade, I’ll be your girlfriend.”

“Awesome, that’s… Awesome. Cool,” he stumbles over his words. He wants to say more, but you’re smiling so widely that he’s concerned for your cheek muscles. You’re even more beautiful to him when you’re happy.  It puts a lump in his throat. How can you possibly be interested in him? You’re not just devastatingly beautiful, you’re a good person. He tries to be, but he feels like the scum of the earth next to you. 

“I’m starving, let’s eat!” you playfully scold him, gesturing to the board. He takes in the platter once more, and finds his eyes watering at the amount of thought you must’ve put into this. “Well, you can’t eat with that thing on. Come on, it’s just us, and…” You trail off.

“Need help?” he offers. You shake your head. 

“Just feeling shy,” you admit. 

“No need to be shy around me, I’ve seen and heard it all,” he assures you. 

“I guess that’s part of the reason why. I can’t say the same,” you reply, your cheeks turning a little pink as your smile becomes sheepish. 

Wade finally takes his mask off, figuring it’s an equivalent exchange for your show of vulnerability. You grin, scooping some brie onto a cracker before adding a chunk of turkey and passing it to him. He gratefully accepts it, pulling you closer to him and pressing a kiss to your temple. He leaves his arm around you, and you adjust your posture, getting comfortable in your place by his side. You put together a cracker of your own. 

The two of you go on like that for a while, creating combinations of cheese and meat on crackers, some bordering on sacrilege, before he finally finds his words again. He always seems to be at a loss for words when faced with you. 

“I don’t mind, y’know,” he starts. “I mean, that you haven’t been in a lot of relationships and all that entrails. Sorry, I meant entails. I usually talk more about entrails.”

You giggle. 

“Are you sure? I just don’t want you to be bored,” you reply. “You’ve had a very exciting life so far. I like the simple things… Like picnics at sunset.”

“I’m learning to appreciate them a lot more. Don’t get me wrong, there’s definitely going to come a day when I drag you onto a beach vacation, or to an even swankier restaurant than De Luca, or whatever… But I like this, too. I like it a lot.” And I love you, he thinks. It’s way too soon to be saying something like that, isn’t it? “Besides, exciting doesn’t always mean fun. When we’re together, I have fun.”

“Me, too,” you agree bashfully. “What I was wanting to say before was that I think you’re beautiful. I like your face and your hands.”

“Kinda specific,” he remarks, trying to avoid the compliment. 

“They’re all I’ve seen. Well, other than your voice. I like that, too.”

“It sounds better coming from you,” he deflects once more, but you don’t fight him this time, instead blushing. “I like your voice. I know you don’t feel like it’s yours, but it is to me. The way you speak tells part of your story, just like an accent does.” He’s tempted to admit hearing your words in his voice satisfies his possessive streak, but despite how cute you are when you’re nervous, he doesn’t want to frighten you.

When you don’t respond, he’s worried he’s somehow done it anyway. He looks up from the platter to see your hand clamped over your mouth, a tear rolling down your cheek. 

“Fuck, Y/N, I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m so-”

You shake your head fervently. 

“That’s the nicest thing someone’s ever said to me about my voice,” you clarify, sniffling as you awkwardly chuckle, trying to laugh it off. “I’m sorry for getting emotional.”

“Never be sorry for that,” he insists, squeezing you closer to him. “The only thing I dislike about what you just said is that no one’s ever said something so nice to you about one of the things that makes you… You. I love you, so that really bothers me.”

Your mouth falls open, and once he realizes what he said, he wants to stick his foot in his. 

“I’m-”

“I love you, too,” you tell him. It’s all in his voice. 

Wade can’t help but kiss you. When it comes to you, he normally tries to be a gentleman and ask first, but the adoration in your eyes, the red tint to your cheeks, the hint of a smile on your parted lips… It’s all too much. You kiss him back just as eagerly, your lips moving against each other until you’re on your back with him slotted between your legs. You cling to him for dear life, your hands clutching his hoodie like if you let go he’ll float away. 

He can’t believe how good your body feels against his, his hands laced in your hair as your chests press together like your hearts are trying to touch each other. 

The two of you break for air, both with awestruck smiles and flushed faces. 

“Do you… Want some help with that?” you ask, face turning redder. He scrambles to sit up, suddenly aware of his pre-dick-ament. You sit up, too, though much more gracefully.

“Have you ever..? Sorry, I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable. I just want to do right by you.”

“Fair enough… I have, but only once. It didn’t go well. After that, it was just-” You pause, but he doesn’t offer to help this time, not wanting to rush you. You blow air out of your mouth. “Until I gained some self-respect and broke up with him.”

His jaw drops.

“Well, that’s not entirely true. He cheated on me and then I dumped him.” 

“Someone cheated on you?! I guess what they say is true, then – it doesn’t matter how gorgeous you are or what all you do for somebody, if they’re a cheating piece of shit, they’re a cheating piece of shit.”

Your smile is bittersweet as you respond: 

“At least I know I’m good at-” You blow air out of your mouth again. “Even if I don’t have practice with other things.”

“I believe you, but I’m not taking you up on it this time around. First time’s definitely going to be all about you. You deserve it,” Wade informs you. “And, uh, I think I want to wait a little longer before that,” he adds, surprising even himself. “Not that you’re not totally hot – I really like you and Little Wade does, too, but…”

“You don’t have to give me a reason. We should wait until we’re both ready,” you assure him, putting a comforting hand on his knee. He kisses you again, more chastely this time. 

“Thanks,” he says.

“I’d like some advanced notice, anyways, so I can make sure I’m adequately stocked,” you reply– flirtatiously, but in an intentionally goofy way based on the way your eyebrows waggle –tapping on your neck in the general area of your vocal cords. He can’t help but laugh at that, and you join in, making his volume double. 

“Don’t worry about that. I mean, if it’d make you more comfortable, go for it, but… I don’t need you to do that, seriously,” he insists. 

“Well, I’d rather not wail just because you kissed my neck and that’s the closest thing I have to an appropriate sound.” 

“Fair enough,” he concedes. “Now, let’s polish off the rest of this charcuterie board.”

“I can’t eat another bite. Have at it, I’ll just cuddle with you if that’s okay.”

“More than,” he assures you. You lean on his shoulder as he finishes it off. He babbles throughout, but eventually your lack of response becomes concerning. 

Wade turns his head to find that you’ve fallen asleep. He’d sit perfectly still all night just to make sure that you weren’t disturbed, but you had a point earlier. It’s pretty chilly, you could get sick if you slept out here without anything but your jeans and sweater to keep you warm. 

“Y/N,” he hums, stroking your face. You stir, face scrunching in distaste for being awoken. He giggles. “It’s time to head back in, cutie.”

“Fuck, you’re right,” you groggily grumble, though your tone doesn’t reflect that, reaching for the basket as you sit up. 

“I got it,” he says, gently batting your hand away. “Go on up to your room, I’ll meet you there once I’ve got this picked up.”

“Are you sure?” you ask. 

“Yeah, hon, I’ve got it.”

You get up from the blanket, ambling back to the house sleepily. Wade tosses the grape stems to the treeline hoping some bird or something will enjoy it before he pushes the board off of your picnic blanket. He folds said blanket, tucking it into its matching basket. He carries both the board and the basket back to the house, eventually catching up with you due to your slow pace. 

You open your door, and he follows you in. 

“Where do you want them?” he asks, looking around. Your room is cluttered, but not necessarily dirty or messy, just filled with things: pictures, curios, crystals, dried flowers… Pretty things. Fitting, he supposes, because it’s your room. 

“Where ever is fine. I’ll deal with it in the morning,” you answer. “Thank you.”

“Goodnight, Y/N. Thanks for dinner, it was great.”

“You don’t have to go. Just because we’re not sleeping together doesn’t mean we can’t sleep together,” you offer. “It’s late.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude,” he says, kicking himself for giving you an out and appreciating himself for it at the same time. 

“Very sure,” you assure him. “I have some- Some tee shirts a man can wear.”

“Men’s?” he offers. You nod gratefully. 

“It’s what I usually wear to bed,” you explain, tossing him one before pulling another out of your dresser, shucking your pants and taking off your sweater while still turned around. Wade yelps, turning around himself. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” you remind him. He swiftly gets into the tee shirt you offered him, feeling the heat in his cheeks. Even your back is pretty, goddamn it. 

“Haven’t seen you,” he says as he turns around, eyes still downcast as he joins you under the covers. 

“I didn’t think it’d be that big of a deal for you, I’m sorry.” 

“Didn’t you hear me earlier when I said I love you?” he half-jokes. 

“Yeah, I did, which is why I’m insisting on cuddling,” you declare. “I love you, too, and I want cuddles in exchange for it.”

“Is that so? I like sleepy you. She’s demanding, I’m into it.”

“Oh!” you squeak. “Not too demanding, I hope.”

“Not even a little,” he assures you, pulling you into his arms. 

It’s the easiest time he’s had falling asleep in a long time. Possibly ever. 

When he wakes, you’re still beside him, but you hover, propped on your arm as you gaze at him with downright eerie fascination. 

“Your scars move,” you say. “I didn’t notice it before, but it’s faster when you’re sleeping.” 

“Yeah, part of the whole cancer constantly fighting itself thing,” he mumbles, sheepish under your scrutiny, no matter how gentle it is. The next thing he’s hyper-aware of is the pain in his groin. 

You follow his gaze. 

“You weren’t exaggerating,” you remark, a smug, pleased look on your face. “Are you sure you don’t want any help with that? It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

“How about tonight?” he offers. This is the second time you’ve offered yourself to him, so he doesn’t want to turn you down. It’s not that he feels pressured, though. Rather, he’s coming to terms with the fact that you really want him like that – not even just that you’re attracted to him, but you trust him that much despite being hurt so badly before in what was clearly a long-term relationship, maybe even your only one. “Is that enough notice?”

“Plenty. It’s a weekend, so I have all day to listen to-”

“Don’t wear yourself or your vibrator out,” Wade cuts you off, excited to inform you: “I happen to think of those as teammates, not competition.”

You smile, blushing. 

“Understood.”

“Is it alright if I go ahead and head out? I’m supposed to meet Logan and Laura for breakfast.”

“Of course. What time do you want to meet up later?”

“Do you want to get dinner first?”

“Shit. I’m supposed to have dinner with Ellie and Yukio, Yukio’s dads are in town and- Well, I guess that means I don’t have all day. How about seven, to give me time?”

“Sure, but-”

“I know. I want to, it’ll make me feel better.”

“If you insist. See you later, cutie.”

“Later,” you echo. 

Later rolls around and you have your headphones on. 

“Fuck me harder,” the voice actress whines. 

“Fuck me harder,” you echo, biting your lip at how illicit it sounds. Hopefully he likes it. You practice the little moans and gasps you’ve heard, making sure they sound right and aren’t too different from each other. 

There’s a knock at the door. Surely it’s him. You stop the audioporn track, setting your headphones and phone aside. You peek under your skirt at the black lace-trimmed panties you’re wearing. You don’t have much red in your underwear collection, so hopefully he’s happy with the mismatched set you’re wearing, your previously-mentioned black bottoms with a red bralette. 

You answer the door. 

“Wade,” you say, unable to hold back the grin on your face. He’s quickly become your favorite person with his outrageous sense of humor, his constant stream of new words for you to say– one of your favorites is chucklefuck, you even repeat it to yourself when you’re alone just to make sure you don’t lose it –his textured skin, his radiant smile, and… Oh, crap, he’s been talking, hasn’t he?

“I’m sorry, I got lost in thought. What were you saying?” you ask, cringing at yourself. 

“I was just saying that if you’re starting to psych yourself out, we don’t have to do this. Guessing I was right.”

“Not at all. I really want you,” the last bit comes out as a moan, and you remember the exact context in which you heard it. Maybe Brat Begs for Her Master’s Cock wasn’t a good decision, it was especially wordy – you’re probably going to have to sort that out of your vocabulary for the next week. You just wanted to make sure there was enough kink in your repertoire – Wade’s reputation precedes him. 

“Well, if you’re sure… Let’s get to it, I guess.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, concerned. He nods, and you pull him into the room, closing and locking the door behind him. “It’s been a while, how exactly do we get started?”

“Hm, a little something like this,” he hums fondly before pressing his lips to yours. You love the way he kisses, it’s so overpowering that it feels like nothing else exists, just him and you. You melt in his hands, needy little whimpers forcing their way out of you as they caress your jaw before wandering down to your waist, a few teasing, curious touches along the way driving you wild. 

His lips trail down to your neck and you gasp as his tongue swirls against your skin. 

“Not too long,” you warn him, the last word in breathless excitement.  

“Of course,” he assures you. “Can’t have a few hickeys ruining your reputation.”

You nod, and he places his next kiss in the curve between your neck and shoulder. He carefully introduces his teeth to the equation and your knees almost give out as a high-pitched whine leaves your lips. You clutch his back for purchase, and he leads you backwards into the bed, the two of you laying there together like you were yesterday evening. He’s right there between your legs and you can feel his excitement growing as you paw at him, needing to be even closer than you already are. 

He unbuttons one button of your blouse before looking to you for permission to continue. 

“Yes,” you agree, and despite the tone itself being over-the-top, he only smiles as he reveals your body to him. 

“Red,” he murmurs. “Just for me?”

“Just for you,” you concur, only the last word being a moan due to his interference. “You were supposed to let me say that,” you half-heartedly complain. He chuckles. 

“I kinda like it more when it’s in my voice. Reminds me that you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you agree. “I’m all yours.”

“You spoil me,” he replies fondly before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your breast. He takes his time, not even pushing one of the thin cups aside until you’re whining and rocking against him. He flicks his tongue against your nipple and the sensation sends sparks through you. You arch into his mouth with the same high-pitched moan as before. He chuckles, switching to the other. 

You’re already shaking and you have no doubt that you’re embarrassingly wet. Hell, even last night’s makeout session, which hardly qualified as one, left your underwear damp. He urges you up, helping you out of your shirt. He goes to take off your bra, but you stop him. 

“You wanna stop?” he asks, his hand quickly making its way to cup your face comfortingly. 

You shake your head, nudging him off of you so you can take off your skirt. 

“Just for me?” he asks again, looking pleasantly surprised. 

“Just for you,” you repeat. 

“You’re so thoughtful. It’s one of the things I love most about you,” he informs you. 

“You can take it off now. Or them, whatever you choose.”

He snickers. 

“Let’s start with the bra for now,” he decides, reaching behind you for the clasp. He fumbles around, looking for it for a bit until you’re both laughing. You pull the bralette over your head for him. It then hits you then that you’re mostly naked and he’s mostly clothed. You pout, batting your eyelashes as you look him up and down. 

He gets the message and huffs out another laugh, getting off the bed to take off his shirt and jeans. 

Holy fuck, he’s ripped. If you weren’t bright red before, you are now. You should’ve expected it, what with his metabolism and super-strength and all that, but… Wow! 

“That bad, huh? I’ve been trying to tell you.”

“No,” you quickly disagree. “You look amazing.”

“You, too,” he replies, his eyes lighting up at the erotic tone of your last spoken word. 

“Come back,” you urge him. It’s getting to the point where every other word or so is a moan. He doesn’t seem to mind, if anything, he likes it. 

“Say it again. ‘Come.’”

“Come,” you reply, unamused. “You forgot the rules, didn’t you?”

“Oops,” he says with a giggle. “That’s alright. ‘Cause the next time you say that word, it’s gonna be because of me. It being in my voice will only be a reminder of that fact.”

You shudder, leaning back and opening your legs up a little more as a reminder that he should really rejoin you in bed right now. His nose twitches and his eyebrows furrow. 

“Wade?”

“I have… An enhanced sense of smell.”

“Oh, is it… bad? I mean, I took a shower and drank water and all that, but-”

“No, baby, you smell so good, just… Really strong, like...” He presses his hand to your most private place and you can’t help but squeak – between everything he’s said and done, the content you were consuming before his arrival, and how long it’s been… You’re unbelievably sensitive. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me?”

“What?” you ask. 

“You’re so… I like foreplay, sure, and you deserve it, but aren’t you getting frustrated? If you need me, you should tell me.”

Once you get over your breathlessness at the last thing he said, you explain yourself:

“I like what we’re doing. Why would I stop you?”

“Aren’t you aching down here?” he wonders, pressing his hand firmer against you for emphasis. 

“Oh, fuck, yes,” you tell him, a little embarrassed at the variation in your moans. 

He smiles, though, caressing your thighs in a teasingly gentle way.

“Then maybe I should go ahead and show you the real reason they call me the Merc with a Mouth. You’re not the only one who knows how to give a blowy.”

He hooks his fingers in your panties and drags them down your legs with your attempted assistance as you try to move them in helpful ways. He props your legs open before finally rejoining you in bed, this time with his mouth… Oh, his mouth, it’s…

A symphony of pleasured sounds flows out of you, some cheap and overexaggerated and some a little more realistic. 

“Good girl, tell me how much you like it,” he says, before returning his lips and tongue to you just as swiftly as they left. 

“I fucking love it,” you reply, gasping for air. “No one’s ever done this to me before.”

He’s got his face buried between your thighs, moaning and groaning as he tastes you. When your eyes aren’t clenched shut from pleasure, you see him grinding his hips into the comforter for friction. Holy shit, he really likes this, doesn’t he? 

Your legs are trembling uncontrollably as fire courses through your veins and you feel yourself getting higher and higher.

“I’m close, Wade, I’m gonna- Gonna come,” you tell him. He holds onto your thighs, keeping you right in place as you unravel, forcing you to take what he’s giving you. The sounds you’re making are chaos, you think, but you realize as you come down that that’s what he thrives on. 

“It’s too much,” you whine as you start to get overstimulated, when it feels so good it hurts. He hesitantly pulls away, panting a little himself. 

“How was that?” he asks.

“Amazing. Couldn’t- You- Tell?” 

He grins. 

“Wanna keep going?” 

“Fuck me,” you implore him. “Please.”

“Yes, ma’am! Let me see here…” he fishes in the pockets of his discarded jeans, finding a condom. He holds it up, and like a magic trick, the interconnected packets fall down, leaving you both with a whole ribbon of them. After tearing off one, he tosses the others onto the bed beside you. “I doubt we’ll go through all those tonight, but I’d appreciate it if you kept the rest in the nightstand.”

You nod, still catching your breath from the previous round as he rolls it on. 

“I’m gonna use my fingers first,” he informs you. You nod, your breathlessness now in anticipation of what he’ll do next. He gently pushes one inside you. It feels bigger than it really is as he carefully slides it in and out before curling it right against-

He smiles in response to your pleasured exclamation. 

“You sound so pretty, honey,” he hums, “Ready for another?” 

“Yeah,” you agree. He repeats the same motions as before but with a second finger. “Holy fucking shit, so good.” 

“We’re barely getting started,” he reminds you, but he doesn’t seem displeased with your eager sounds as he adds a third finger into the mix. 

“So full,” you moan. “I don’t know if I can take it.”

“You know just what to say, don’t you, baby? I know you can take it, though. You're such a good girl, aren’t you?” 

“I try,” you reply. 

“You succeed,” he confirms. “Do you still want-”

“Yes, please, I’m ready,” you cut him off, starting to get impatient. His fingers feel absolutely incredible, but you want more, you want all of him. You’ve never been so greedy before, but you just can’t help it. Just as you're his, he’s yours. No one’s ever really been yours before and you want to experience it for all that it's worth. 

“Alrighty, then. You should be careful, though — I’m trying to be all nice and gentlemanly and all that, but if you keep looking at me like that I might lose control.”

“Would that really be such a bad thing?” you half-flirt, half-wonder, propping yourself up to look at him once he removes his fingers from you. He’d never hurt you in a way that you didn’t want him to, not intentionally. Would it really be so bad for him to give in to his baser urges and just pound you until you cry and then some? You don’t think so.

“Oh, I get it, you’ve been holding out on me. I guess I should’ve known, the geeky types are always total freaks in the sheets,” he remarks. 

“I wanted to be gentle with you, too,” you explain. “I know you’re just as nervous as I am, just for different reasons.” 

“Not that different,” he admits. “Are you really sure?”

“Mhm,” you hum, trying to meet his downcast eyes. “I want you. Really… I’ve really never felt this way before.”

“Me, either. Don’t wanna fuck it up.”

“Then fuck me instead,” you tease, knowing he doesn’t like to linger on the deeper subjects for too long. 

“Sounds like a plan to me,” he agrees with a smile, lining himself up with your entrance. You’re really glad he used his fingers first, because there’s no way his member would even be close to fitting inside you if he hadn’t. He eases in, checking every inch or so to make sure you’re still comfortable. 

You're still propped up on your hands, your eyes flicking between his face and his dick as it sinks further and further into you. You lift one hand and bring his forehead to yours, your labored breaths intermingling as he enters you. You keep your hand on the back of his neck, stroking him — you’re not sure if the motion is supposed to comfort you or him, but it feels good. 

“Is it okay for me to move?” 

You nod into him, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth. It feels so good to connect with someone like this, to connect with him like this. 

He slides back and forth, it’s mind-boggling to watch something so large disappear into you. 

“You feel so good, baby, fuck,” he groans.

“You feel so good,” you echo, eyes scrunching shut as he picks up the pace. Your other hand rises from the bed and now you’re holding onto him as he thrusts, hitting that amazing place deep inside over and over again. You’re once again making mismatched sounds of ecstasy, his own grunts and groans working their way into your lexicon and making them even more diverse. 

He wraps an arm around you, helping you to stay balanced. 

“Touch yourself for me, sweetheart, I wanna feel you like that, please, please make yourself come all over my cock,” he nearly begs. 

“Yes, sir.” You remove your hand from where it was bracing on his neck, leaving the other draped around his shoulders as you start to stroke your clit. 

“Oh, fuck, shit, you-“ You feel him twitch inside of you. “Just a second, I… Oh, god.”

“You weren’t kidding,” you reply as he carefully pulls out, tying off and disposing of the condom before getting another one ready. 

“Honestly, I was, but- I mean, the refractory period is legit. I am so sorry, seriously, you- You just pushed a button that hasn’t been pushed in a while, goddamn, I- Say it again, please, if- If it’s not too much to-”

“Sir,” you repeat, grateful that he remembered the rules this time so you can elicit the right response from him. 

“There we go. Right as rain,” he says, jostling his re-hardened member in his hand comedically before rolling on a new condom. “Still-”

“Please,” you cut him off. “Please fuck me, Wade.” It’s all in his voice. You love the sound of his voice, but damn him for talking so much after you put all that effort into making sure you had a good catalogue for tonight! 

He cups your face and kisses you once again before entering you once more. You touch yourself as he thrusts in and out of you, no longer able to watch as your eyes clench shut — it’s everything you need and it’s too much. Fuck, it’s too much, you feel like he’s gonna break you, or you’re gonna break yourself. 

“That’s my good girl, you feel even better when you do that, squeezing around me just right,” he pants, continuing his erotic rambling. Every word gets you closer, even the ones you can’t process due to just how good this feels. 

“It’s- I’m- Come, gonna come again, oh, fuck, ah, please, Wade…” Your voice is steadily becoming more from him than what you watched earlier, but that only increases his fervor. 

“Love it when you talk in my voice, love the way you love me,” he replies, just as locked-in. That’s how he sees it? It almost brings you to tears in the best way, you’re so touched.

“Oh, god,” you murmur, just as he did before, but you really wanna scream it as you claw his back, desperate to cling to something physical as you reach the pinnacle of bliss. 

He stills as well, pushed as deep inside of you as he can go as you come down. You fall back into the bed, thoroughly worn out. 

He pulls out once more, repeating the same actions as earlier when taking care of the condom. He takes the unopened packages from beside you and tucks them into your bedside table. 

“Wanna go again?” he offers cheekily. 

“We don’t all have healing factors,” you remind him with a sigh. “Fuck, that was… Amazing.” 

“Was there anything you didn’t like?” he asks.

“No. What about you?”

“Getting overexcited and- Well, y’know.”

“I thought it was sweet,” you reassure him. 

“Anything you liked in particular?”

“What you said about when I talk in your voice,” you admit. “You?”

“I meant it,” he quickly says, like he’s scared you thought it was just pillow talk. “I could list a lot of things that I liked in particular, but I really- I loved it all.”

“Me, too.” you reply. You hold open your arms and he eagerly takes his place there. 

The two of you take a while to fall asleep, giddiness and excitement still buzzing in the air at your newfound love, but eventually you make it there.

[taes-kookie-blog]

DATES WITH BTS

these days i’ve been daydreaming on what kind of date our boys would bring us on 🥹 i jinja miss them. pls enjoy dear~

-

JUNGKOOK

he’d call you late at night. you’d facetime for a bit, this is what your dates have been lately due to the military. things get a bit freaky a while into the facetime call, and jungkook loses it. “i cant kiss you through the phone.” he says. you laugh, thinking he’s making a soulja boy joke bc you’re listening to it. but he’s serious, and he’s getting all worked up… he bites his lip and leans closer to the camera… “i wanna see it.. in motion… in 3D.” upon hearing this you get up to strip for him but he hangs up. you receive a text from him; an address. you go to the address and it’s the military grounds, where he sneaks you in so you can do it in 3D. but then you get shot and you die :(

-

SUGA

it’s a friday night. due to suga’s busy schedule, you don’t see eachother much so you want to go a bit crazy and go to the club together. he’s wearing sunglasses and a cap to disguise, so everyone in the club thinks he’s weird. he drinks a lot due to stress and judgement. “yoongi.. slow down…” but he doesnt. he’s been drinking a lot more lately but you brushed it aside as you haven’t seen it; until now. glass after glass, shot after shot… he’s almost blackout by this point. he buys a bottled beer to go home with, so you wrap your arm around him to help him out. while waiting for your uber, you turn to see he isn’t there… that’s when you hear a load bang. you immediately run down the street towards the commotion. there he is, on the ground, a wound on his head. he drunkenly laughs and sits up, but the situation isn’t laughable. beside him is a scooter and a pram. a pram that fell over.

-

JIMIN

jimin’s ideal date with you would be a karaoke bar. he loves to tease you as you try your best to sing, and of course, he loves to sing too. but he’s banned from all the karaoke bars in seoul. you’re walking along together, moreso you’re being guided along by him after he told you he ‘knows a place.’ you reach a strange part of the city, where you’ve never been. there are a lot of buff shirtless men around. “this way babe.” he tugs on your hand towards a staircase leading underground, so you follow, confused. at first glance, the place is amazing and lively, a cool underground club, you figure it’s probably so hidden because it’s for celebrities only. but upon walking further into the club…. “jimin! what the fuck?! this is a gay bar!”

-

V

tae has always been reluctant about taking you out due to his dislike of PDA, and of course, the attention to his public image. you understand, dispatch can ruin careers after all. he calls you to come over, so you do. you reach the apartment and notice how foggy the windows are, is he cooking? you smile to yourself happily, smitten at the fact that beyond his stoic image, tae would cook for you. you walk in and immediately begin coughing. you stumble into the room, tripping over something on the floor. it’s hard to see through the smoke, steam, vapor..? what is this? but after crouching down and picking up what you tripped over, you can see it’s a vape. not just one, the whole floor is covered… emerging from the clouds, tae holds one out to you. “choof sesh?”

-

JIN

jin is usually a stay at home watch movies and snuggle type, so when you got the text asking you to come out with him, you were more than excited. you dress yourself up to look your best, and meet him outside. he compliments you which makes you blush, but then there’s an awkward silence. he waits, until you compliment him too. then you go, and arrive at a carnival. walking along together, getting cotton candy (he won’t eat it but at least he paid), playing games, going on rides… it’s so much fun. until you go into the hall of mirrors. at first it’s funny, seeing so many of your reflection, but of course it’d get boring after a while. “jin, let’s go!” but he doesn’t answer. he’s entranced by his reflection, and refuses to leave. good luck getting him out…

-

RM

namjoon likes to make dates personal and meaningful. he wants to connect, not just through your bodies, but your mind and heart. when he told you he wants to show you where he grew up your heart was touched and you couldn’t wait. the car trip is fun, and eventually you pull up to a run down part of the city. checking your location on your phone, you knew this wasn’t where he grew up. “babe-“ before you can speak, he cuts you off, sighing and shaking his head and he drives slowly and looks melancholically out the window. “this is my hood.” you look at him in confusion, he seems totally lost in thought. he’s still driving, but you go to open the door to hint you wanna go and see it for yourself. before your hand reaches the handle he quickly grabs it. “don’t. it’s not safe out there…”

-

JHOPE

jhope had recently recovered from his emo phase so you could finally enjoy time with him, and you couldn’t wait. he invited you over. upon entering, he greeted you with excitement, wearing a cute apron and ushering you towards the kitchen to show the meal he prepared. you’re beyond surprised and excited, your heart warmed from this gesture. you sit at the kitchen counter as he continues cooking, the room filled with laughter and joy. he falls into conversation with you, his back facing the stove as you joyfully exchange conversation. until suddenly, a fire breaks out. he turns to face it, his expression unreadable as you scram to get the fire extinguisher. you run over but he silently holds a hand out, gesturing for you to stop. “what if.. what if…. what if i have no dream? no hope?” he mumbles, his expression still as he stares into the fire. “hoseok we need to put it ou-” he shushes you, still staring into the fire. “let it burn. let it all burn.”

-

i hope u enjoyed dears~ pls send requests

[blissfullyapillow]

Ever since the scene of Welt getting enthusiastic about playing hide and seek but then getting shut down because he's too old, I've been... daydreaming to say the least. Offering to play with him as his s/o, not judging him at all for his age, just wanting to see him have fun... Seeing a whole new mischievous side of Welt as he uses his abilities to give you a scare... Hearing his laughter... Maybe getting a bit spicy if you want to... Just anything with the hide and seek scenario just makes me so giggly!!!!! Love the silly old man <333

┃Hide and Seek with Welt Yang

₊˚⊹♡ wc: 1,222~

₊˚⊹♡ warnings: not proofread, fluff, suggestive ending, fun shenanigans with some of the astral express crew :D

₊˚⊹♡ Pillow Talks: I hope you like what I have for you anon! I did my best to honor your request to the best of my ability (╥ ω ╥)

₊˚⊹♡ Masterlist

You’ve never seen Welt act so.. giddy before

He can be difficult to read at the worst of times and a bit mischievous at the best, but a totally different side to Welt is presented before you as you hide your frame behind the large furniture in front of you.

Not the best hiding spot, but it’s in a place he’d least expect!

Or.. maybe not.

A low chuckle is the only warning you receive before a weightless feeling takes over your senses. You emit a noise of surprise as your body levitates off the ground.

Warm, inviting brown eyes light up with mirth as you struggle to maintain your balance.

“I won this round. You have two more chances.” You recall the deal you made with Welt. Whoever wins three rounds of hide and seek gets to ask the other to do one thing, whatever they want, and it can’t be refused. Of course there’s a time limit each round, and unfortunately he found you well before time ran out.

“You got lucky.” Your reluctance to admit defeat amuses Welt immensely. You are gently let down, and as soon as your feet are planted you get ready to hide again.

This time, you hide somewhere that hopefully won’t be so obvious.

In the archives.

Dan Heng was nonplussed that you wanted to use the archives as a means to win a game of hide and seek, but your pleading was enough to get him to relent.

“As long as you do not disturb me, I don’t mind.” His agreement came as a surprise, but who are you to complain?

So, you hang out with Dan Heng as the minutes tick by.

You snicker as you check your phone, and two minutes remain.

Again, not the best hiding spot but everyone on the astral express knows Dan Heng isn’t one to let tomfoolery occur in the archives. Which makes it a  good hiding spot should he consent.

Which is why you emit a groan when a knock is heard at the locked door.

Dan Heng turns to eye you, raising an eyebrow. You shake your head frantically, clasping your hands together in a silent prayer for him to keep the door locked.

He releases a deep sigh as he turns back to the data bank, only for the knocking to continue, louder in volume. Dan Heng pinches the bridge of his nose.

You glance at the timer on your phone.

Thirty seconds left.

“Just a few more seconds!” You whisper-yell the words to Dan Heng. He looks at the door and back at you, a frown on his face.

“Name, are you—“ somehow, the door unlocks and swings open. Welt stands triumphant on the other side, and you glance at your phone.

There was only 10 seconds left!

You stifle a groan as Welt walks inside, picking you up effortlessly as he bids Dan Heng farwell. You swear you catch Dan Heng’s smirk as he waves to the both of you.

As soon as Welt exits the archives the door slams shut behind the both of you.

“Did you think I didn’t know where you were hiding?” Welt teases you. “Maybe…” You're pouting, but you don’t care.

Welt ruffles your hair, a vibrant air of life about him. “This’ll be the last round if I win, Name. Are you sure you don’t want to be the seeker?” You adamantly shake your head in refusal.

“No way! It’d be too easy for you to manipulate the doors. I still can’t sneak into your room, you always have to let me in.” You huff, crossing your arms in faux annoyance. Welt side eyes you before he finally sets you down on your feet.

“You’ve tried sneaking into my room?” He sounds surprised, but there’s a knowing glint in his warm gaze. “Oh, be quiet. We both know that you’re more than aware that I have.” He shrugs, feigning innocence before he turns around. “I’ll give you extra time to hide this time. I think I’ve decided what I’ll ask of you…” He muses.

You roll your eyes but an uncontrollable smile lifts your lips. You press a chaste kiss to Welt’s lips before you run off to find your next hiding spot.

This time, you hide in plain sight, moving after Welt leaves the area. You make your way to March’s room. She lets you in, and after some begging she allows you to hide behind her plushies once you agree to let her take a picture the moment you’re found. You didn’t like the fact that she knew believed you would lose, but you needed a new place to hide.

Time ticks by all too slowly for your liking. March continues on with what she was doing previously before you interrupted her. She checks the time for you, sending a thumbs up your way to indicate time is almost up. You hold your breath as you will the time to pass faster.

You make sure to bury yourself beneath her plushies when Welt inevitably visits her room, and she cheekily lets him in (despite your previous agreement but you choose not to gripe).

Welt takes one look at the pile of plushies you’re hiding beneath before you’re suddenly floating upside down midair. March cheers loudly as she snaps a candid photo of you.

Welt leaves the room with you trailing behind him, still suspended in air with your arms crossed in dismay.

“Welllttt… this isn’t fair.” Your complaints fall on deaf ears as he brings you to his room, shutting the door behind him.

You hear Welt’s phone chime. He leisurely takes his phone out of his pocket to check the lit screen, grinning to himself at whatever is on the screen. “I told March to send me the photo she took of you.” He chuckles as he holds the phone up to you. You look absolutely ridiculous in the photo, hanging midair with pure shock written on your features.

You reach for his phone, only for him to pull it back.

“Ah ah, this photo is precious to me. It’s worthy of being my screensaver, don’t you agree?” Welt relishes in the look you give him, clearly disapproving of his choice of jokes. You do a flip at Welt’s command, and you yelp in surprise. He laughs, setting you down once more.

Except, you’re now caged between his arms with the wall behind you for support.

“My silly partner really thought they could win a game of hide and seek against me, hm?” Welt’s eyes darken, a dangerous glint to them as he holds your chin with his fingers.

You have no choice but to look him deep in his eyes, your own flustered gaze reflected within his iris’. 

“Ah.. well, it’s the effort that counts right?” You suggest, pressing your back against the wall. Welt smirks when you gasp; his knee parts your legs to tease between your thighs.

“I agree. In fact, I think your efforts should be rewarded.” His tone is suggestive, just as his actions ignite the familiar flame of your desire.

Your body relaxes when he leans in to slot his lips with yours, his knee providing pleasurable stimulation for you.

You are completely at his mercy, and you have no intention of hiding this time.

[wyngigi]

ꕀ LUST FOR LIFE ꕀ 04

↳ sex money feelings die remastered .ᐟ cross posted on ao3

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“ they say only the good die young, that just ain't right 'cause we're having too much fun, too much fun tonight ”

↳ synopsis: a group of individuals find that their first taste of freedom in the world brings more obstacles than expected. some of them, find solace by drowning in liquor or in the backseat of somebody else’s car. a lot of them have got to get their shit together. a lot of them won't.

mdni » story contains nsfw content intended for 18+ audiences pairings » member specific, not listed for spoiler purposes ↳󠁪󠁪 ateez x female reader, ateez x ateez ↳ genre » coming of age ↳ word count » 2.3k ↳ general warnings » substance abuse & consumption, sexual content, morally grey characters, unreliable narrators, internalised homophobia, angst, basically every struggle young adolescence can go through ↳ a/n┆i hope u guys love this chapter as much as i do !! a little blast from the past always has me excited <3 p.s let me know which pairings ur rooting for after reading hehe (and yes next chapter we will be back at the party dont worry the drama has just begun)

04⌇memories of summer bring you

As San weaves his way through the crowd, past the drunken bodies of guys and girls alike, he finds himself reminiscing in just how much he had changed the past few years. Was it okay to live a life like he was right now? He’s not too sure. San first thinks of high school, then his thoughts float to you.

San watches the clock tick above his teacher’s desk, mind wandering as he scribbles on his worksheet with a ballpoint pen. He’s trapped in a god-awful environmental science class (which mind you would’ve been a free period instead), courtesy of not taking enough science courses earlier on to hit the credit minimum. It’s torturous, making him study about the world in a stuffy classroom when he could be out there learning by simply living in it.

San might just be a little salty, but the lesson isn’t actually that interesting either, so his mind has been elsewhere the last half hour. He’ll listen when it actually gets important, maybe. First he was daydreaming about buying a motorcycle and speeding off into the sunset, away from this boring sad old town to go live some larger-than-life bullshit.

Then he thought it’d be too lonely to do by himself, so he brainstormed an alternative. If he were ever able to do it, he’d probably try convincing someone to come with him. He hasn’t even finished his senior year, yet his ideas still don’t seem all that crazy to him. It might be farfetched to others, but San disagrees. If you aren’t dreaming big, could it even be considered a dream at all?

Then he starts wondering if his thoughts are too reckless most, if not all of the time, if attempting to move through life hastily would be too irresponsible and could scare the people around him. But he really doesn’t want to miss out on living, San wants to go see and do the things you have to go out of your way to experience. Something you make the journey for to begin with, not just a simple detour.

The type of stuff you have to just hold your breath for and jump into with no regret before it’s too late, the tide retreating, water becoming far too shallow. (He truly wasn’t lying earlier when he said he loves to be on the move, or that the thrill of exploring had always been dangerously enticing to him.) Those mantras, principles, whatever you wish to call them replay in his mind daily. They always have.

San knows the world won’t slow down and wait for him too. He sees it outside the classroom window right now, how the cars still pass down the street as the birds fly high into the sky even if he’s confined to his seat. San is well aware that it’s him who has to be the one to take the leap of faith and choose to start living. The problem is that sometimes he just can’t.

When San would think about the daredevils, adrenaline junkies, risk takers of the world, those who love to live on the edge of things, preparing for their big take off, he’d think of how he would love to be like that someday. Yeah, someday. The difference was he liked staying on the edge too much. Didn’t like the feeling of climbing to the highest point just for the glory if he could end up tipping over, see himself falling down and lose control of everything in the process.

When third period ends San makes his way out of class then down the hall, stopping at his locker so he can drop off the notebook and stationery he no longer needs till after his second lunch break. San knows he has PE next, so he quickly grabs his gym clothes. It’s not that he cares much about being late for it or missing out on any of the “action” though, he only really enjoys it depending on what sport they’re playing.

He likes the sports where his only role is to defend whenever a ball or something comes his way. It’s why he thinks volleyball is torture; trying his best to stay in his position once his team scores but then somebody is already telling him to hurry up and rotate. Those days are just endless cycles of torture. Actually, were.  He started to sit in the nurse’s office on those days.

It’s a good thing they’re doing netball today (he doesn’t have any more passes to sit in the med bay now). San has a lot of fun playing it. He’s even claimed the goalkeeper bib before anyone else can so much that whoever he plays with just lets him have it. The people he usually plays with are good enough to the point where the opposing team never even gets to his third of the court.

Goalkeeper suits him for that exact reason, he enjoys getting to win without even having to take a shot with the ball. San liked how it was so much he didn’t think or want to try being a goal attacker or centre. Well, maybe sometimes he did a little. There were a couple instances where he wanted to try a different role for the first time. San had gotten as close as picking up a different position bib even. Thoughts like that were shoved away quickly however, and the bib would end thrown back into the crate. The mere possibility of letting anyone down in case he was terrible outweighed his curiosity (and potential) on multiple occasions.

Failure was a funny thing; it had given him a terrible feeling that would sit in the pit of his stomach or make him so nauseous it was awfully dizzying. The funnier thing was that San had never truly failed at anything in life, simply because he had never tried much to begin with. That was the case, for quite some time in his life as he knew it. He had been growing more than okay with that knowledge as time passed, then one day he wasn’t.

As he turned away from his locker, San spotted you walking the opposite way to your own fourth period class, clearly getting ready to ditch the rest of the day. His heartbeat had sped up and his palms were awfully sweaty but for the first time ever, he shut out every reasoning voice in his head and chose to do something he never had the courage to before.

The two of you were in the same grade, so he had seen you passing by in the hallways always with both earphones in (to drown out everyone else he assumes, you never talked to anyone when you had them in while carrying an almost sorrow expression). Despite how you looked, you would still be humming away to a tune he could never fully quite catch.

He also knew your lunch times were spent eating shitty snacks from the vending machines and that you really liked the strawberry lollipops from the cafeteria (which they only sold every Friday for some fucked up reason, he overheard you complaining about it to your friends in math).

San would also see you after school with all of your cooler, older friends too. You would all huddle around the corner near the bike racks in the parking lot, out of sight from teachers so you could bum cigarettes off of each other. You’d also listen to music while you were there, only with one earphone in though so you could still hear everyone talk. He liked seeing that, you always looked happy and smiley talking to your friends.

The two of you weren’t complete strangers, but nowhere close enough where he could feel safe calling you his friend either. You shared multiple classes with San, greeting him with a small smile when you’d walk by his seat to get to your own (he liked that you’d always say hi to him even when he never did first). The both of you even worked on group projects together, but that wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to know more about you, to take even the smallest peek at the inner workings of your mind. To find out how you always seemed to not care when things went wrong.

He thinks of your reaction when you would fail a test, how you’d simply shrug before shoving the paper into the bottom of your backpack. Immediately after, smiling as you’d turn around to talk to your friends about whatever you all planned to do that weekend. Stuff like that didn’t make much sense to him. Why would you not opt out of hanging out just for one weekend and study harder to do better on the next test like he would?

San supposes that’s what separates the two of you into vastly different worlds, yet he wants nothing more than to just step over that line and join you.

When he had spotted you there, on that humid summer day in early June a feeling had begun to settle into his stomach again. The strange bit was that it didn’t feel humiliating nor demeaning, but there was still something unsettling about it. It felt extremely foreign at first but now, incredibly comforting. Because for once, it didn’t feel like failure.

So, he then decided to call out to you. It was the very first time he had ever greeted you, without you doing it first. Your name exceedingly foreign on his tongue when coming out of his mouth while you weren’t sitting at your desks in a shared class. You had turned around at the noise, both earphones still blasting music into your ears.

Once you had recognised who the voice belonged too, you immediately had taken out both of your earphones with a smile. The tune he had never been able to fully hear, was now playing into the world for him to hear freely. He felt the corners of his mouth beginning to prick upwards at that. Yet with no plan of what words he would say now, San was immediately regretting his choice to speak to you. His fists were balled up in front of him, grip tightening on his clothes ever so slightly as he lowers his eyes down away from you.

The edge he always treads so carefully on was now unstable and he felt it beginning to crack already. You don’t leave him any more time to freak out over it though. When he looks up, he sees you already opening your mouth to say hello in the soft tone you always use, ushering him over.

“Hey, San. You want to come skip with me?”

The cool breeze flowing through the corridor, cooling down his cheeks just had to heat up again when he locked eyes with you, of course they did. Because San had always found everything about you pretty, from the first time he ever saw you. Not a day would there be a doubt in his mind of that. But, in that very moment he found you strikingly beautiful. In a split second, where his brain and his heart finally worked in unison he had responded hurriedly, before he could overthink it and regret it for the rest of his days.

“Yeah, I do. I’ll come along,” As he chucked his gym clothes back into his locker, a switch had been flicked on in his mind. When he turned around and saw you then, one lollipop in your mouth and a second in your hand, held out to him, a realisation had been thrown into his face like a bucket of ice-cold water. San had ultimately discovered that dancing on the edge was fun, yet leaping off it was much better. Even if the water was too shallow down below, San thinks he would be okay with that.

While walking away from the gym and instead down the hall with you by his side, San had spotted your earphones tangled up and peeking out of your backpack. That day, he settled with the fact that maybe it was okay to be a little too reckless, to move a tad too fast. Even if it could scare people, even if it scared him.

If you asked San what made him love that summer far more than the previous ones, he might mention his drunken bike rides with you and your friends, or the nights he spent laying on the beach with you gazing at the stars. Hell, he even liked the part time job he had to take up thanks to the party you helped him throw (which ended in that broken window he had to pay for). Spending a portion of his summer working as a server wasn’t fun in theory but when you’d visit him on his breaks or pick him up after his shifts, San had found it pretty worth it in the end.

He was truly happy in every moment back then; he’s enlightened even now, because all the memories of summer bring you back to him. Despite existing only as a brief moment in his own mind, San is content because whenever he closes his eyes he finds a version of you is there with him. He’s able feel the sun on his bare skin, with your lips pressed against his own again. His favorite bit being when the lingering hint of strawberries followed as you both pulled away.

Yeah, that’s exactly when it was. Three summers ago. When San had first decided it was alright to embrace being him, to be the person he still was today. All thanks to you.

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[meaninglessrambles]

i don't like a gold rush.

ship: spencer agnew x gn!reader.

summary: it’s really hard working for someone as pretty as spencer.

warnings: none, really. spencer is technically in a position of power which could make for some potentially icky dynamics if anything were to actually happen. but, if even the thought of that makes you uncomfy, read with caution.

author’s note: i always considered gold rush to be the delusional girlie (in the most gender neutral way ofc) anthem so i thought it’d be fun to do something playing off that.

my mind turns your life into folklore, i can't dare to dream about you anymore.

you're spiraling. you can feel it as you sit there, chin cupped in the palm of your hand, eyes—despite your best efforts, no, seriously, you're trying—peering steadily over the top of the monitor, you're over the edge, crossing metaphorical lines you hadn't even thought possible a matter of months ago.

the butterflies you once thought had long gone dormant, the giggles you can't suppress, the almost desperate desire for even the tiniest bit of attention—it's all so utterly unserious. you're too old for all this, having left behind the silly school yard crushes decades ago and, yet, here you were, ogling your boss from across the room.

he's hunched over alex's desk, iphone held eye level as he swipes a digit across the screen. "look," he guffaws, "you see what i'm seeing? dude's straight jorking it. we're so playing this."

spencer's enthusiasm, so endearing, is quickly tuned out as you drop your gaze to his hand, pressed hard against the laminate, fingers splayed out, holding the rest of his body upright, steady. then up to his forearm—you don't know who half of the little characters are or what they did to deserve being immortalized in such a fashion—and the sleeves of his shirt. this one you don't recognize but you've made yourself familiar with the rest of his wardrobe, wondering how various articles would look thrown around your room or draped over your own body as you tip-toe out of the room, ready to make breakfast or shower or run errands.

for all intents and purposes, it's wrong. feeling this way is one thing, but fantasizing like this another. this is someone you spend forty-plus hours a week with, your boss. but hey, you're not the first person to fall for a silly little guy. a silly little guy with pretty eyes and nice hair... and a killer sense of humor.. and charming disposition. and... oh, fuck.

you're not the first person.

and there it is. just like every time you let your imagination run a little too wild, you have that moment where you crash back to earth, when your bubble pops.

this isn't just a fun little workplace crush on some co-worker—or superior, whoops. sometimes you forget just due to familiarity, but spencer is a highly sought—lusted—after internet personality. your thoughts have been thought before, your feelings are not new or special or unique, any number of people are having the same daydreams.

reality hits as you sit back in your seat and let out a huff of air. "okay," you mutter, tapping your cheeks with just enough to force to really get you to focus, "get it together."

everybody wants you, everybody wonders what it would be like to love you.

[mrsshabana]

"𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐦𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮?!"

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟑𝟎: 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐭

꒦꒷‧₊ Summary You love teasing your shy step-brother, Gyutaro. Always wearing revealing clothes and flaunting in front of him every chance you get. Even though he tries to hide it, it's so obvious that you turn him on. ꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, 18+ MDNI, step-brother!Gyutaro, virgin!Gyutaro, stepcest, dubcon, handjob, vaginal sex, creampie. ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 2.1k words. This ended up being one of my favorite entries to write! I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did!

✧:･ﾟ→ Kinktober Masterlist

Having two step siblings move in with you wasn’t ideal, but your father insisted that they’re your family now - your new stepmother and her two children, Gyutaro and Ume. You were only a few months older than Ume, while her brother Gyutaro was three years older than you. 

Ume liked you a lot, mainly because your father always spoiled you. So you had the cutest clothes and makeup you’d share with her. Gyutaro, on the other hand, did not like you as much. He thought you were spoiled, but for the most part he didn’t hate you. But it was hard to gauge his opinion of you because of how antisocial he was. Always opting to eat his dinner in his room instead of at the table with everyone else. Not to mention how he seemed to avoid you at all costs. Every time you’d enter the kitchen he’d leave, or if he was forced to be around you he'd never speak unless spoken to. Giving only single word responses or shy nods. 

At first, you worried that you may have done something to make him dislike you. But you haven’t even spent enough time around him to have done something like that. No matter what you tried, he seemed to never warm up to you.

You just couldn’t figure him out. 

Not until you noticed the way he stares at you. You had been reaching for something in the kitchen cupboard while Gyutaro sat at the dining table. Looking over your shoulder you could see how intently he stared at your ass as it peaked out from under your pajama shorts. Quickly he turned away, face turning red as he shot out of his seat and sped back to his room. 

The reason he was so awkward around you was because he had a crush on you. A crush that he was deeply ashamed of and tried to do anything to push those thoughts away. But he just couldn’t, especially when you would walk around in those slutty pajamas of yours. Your hello kitty booty shorts and matching crop top were his weakness. 

And the attraction certainly wasn’t one sided. You’ve seen him walk around shirtless and found yourself staring at his muscles. Daydreaming about what it’d be like to have him on top of you. Not only was his body unique and sexy, but so was his personality. He was so shy and antisocial, you knew he must be a virgin. How fun would it be to teach your virgin step-brother a few things about sex? 

Ever since you found this out, you made it your mission to torture him. Always wearing revealing clothes around him, teasing him every chance you got. Like bending over in front of him or hugging him when you weren’t wearing a bra. Every time he’d get hard and have to rush to his room.

But tonight was by far the worst you’ve ever teased him. 

His mother yelled at him for refusing to eat dinner at the table, so tonight he did it just so she’d get off his back. 

He nervously sat beside you and quietly ate his meal while your parents conversed. Ume was spending the night at a friend's house, so it was just you, him, and your parents. 

You smirk as you get a devious idea. Finally having Gyutaro where you want him. You snake your hand under the table and start to caress his thigh. 

Instantly he chokes on his food and starts to sweat. His heart beating fast as you touch him, inching closer and closer to his crotch. 

“Something wrong?” his mother says sternly. 

“N-No! The food’s great! I um- I just swallowed too fast…” his voice shakes as he looks down at his plate, refusing to look up. 

His mother scoffs and continues her conversation with your father. 

His cock is already rock hard and straining the front of his sweatpants. He feels incredibly uncomfortable right now, but there’s nothing he can do about it. All he can do is try to keep his cool so no one notices. 

You start to run your hand against the length of his erection, causing him to whimper softly as he tries to continue eating. 

“Wow,” you whisper, “It’s so big.”

His face turns bright red and he looks at you from the corner of his eye, not able to say a word. Just nervously gulps as he looks at your innocent facade. 

You hum as you slide your hand under the waistband of his pants and start touching him. Trailing down his navel, feeling his pubic hair, and finally his bare length. You can’t see it right now, but you can feel that it’s covered in veins. 

He whines quietly and squirms under your touch, but he doesn’t push your hand away or tell you to stop. So, you start stroking him slowly so as to not draw any attention to what’s happening under the table. After only a few pumps you can feel him throb and twitch in your hand like he’s already getting close to cumming. 

He clenches his fists and closes his eyes, taking deep breaths as he tries to calm himself down. Honestly, he looks like he’s about to throw up. 

“Gyutaro,” his mother snaps, “Clean up the kitchen. We’re finished.” She glares at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“Oh! Uh, y-yes ma’am,” he whimpers. 

His mother eyes him up and down, but ignores his strange behavior and leaves the dining room with your father. Tossing her dishes into the sink on her way out. 

Once they're gone, Gyutaro pulls your hand out of his pants and shoots up from his seat. “Don’t do that!” He whisper yells.

You stand up and look down at his erection clearly poking through his pants. “But you seemed to like it,” you giggle, “C’mon Gyu! No one noticed!”

“I don’t care,” he blushes and takes your plates to the kitchen, “It wasn’t funny.” He starts washing the dishes, trying to ignore you.

But you follow him and hug him from behind, “C’mon~ I know you liked it.” You coo as you reach over to touch his crotch again. Instantly you can feel his cock twitch with excitement. 

“N-no, we can’t do this Y/N,” his voice is breathy like he’s trying to hold back a moan. He’s trying so hard to deny his attraction for you, but he can’t hide it that easily. It’s just so damn obvious. He looks at you with a flustered face, cheeks red and eyes teary. His words are begging you to stop, but his face is telling you to continue. 

“Don’t worry, no one will notice,” you chime, taking his hand and leading him over to the couch in the living room. There you push him down to sit, while you slowly slide down your shorts. 

His complaining stops as his eyes are glued to your body. Watching with perverse satisfaction as you remove your shorts and panties, a string of slick connecting to your panties as you pull them down. 

“F-fuck, she’s so wet,” he thinks to himself, “Does she want me to put it inside her…? I-I can’t do that! She’s my step-sister!”

“Hello?” you wave your hand in front of his face, “Earth to Gyutaro!”

He snaps out of it and moves his gaze up to meet your eyes, “Huh?”

You giggle and lean forward, wiping his chin with your hand. “You were drooling. Haha, want it that bad huh?” You wink at him as you climb onto his lap to straddle him. 

“N-No! That’s not it. I um,” he tries to think of some kind of lie that will make him seem less like a pervert. 

“It’s ok, I know you want me. You don’t need to be ashamed about it,” you lean closer to his ear and whisper, “Because maybe I want you too.”

His eyes widen and he feels like he can’t breathe. There’s no way you actually just said that to him, right? Well, he doesn’t have very much time to think about it because you’re already pulling down his pants and lowering yourself onto his cock. 

It stings at first as you feel him stretch your walls to accommodate his size. But it’s a discomfort that you openly welcome. Just the thought of being split apart by your step-brother’s cock turns you on so much. And once you settle onto him fully, the pain lessens and the pleasure builds - feeling completely full by him.

“ Fuck! Y-Y/N, what’re you d-doing?” he whimpers, watching as you sink down onto him. 

“Silly goose,” you giggle, “I’m gonna make you cum.” Leaning forward, you wrap your arms around his neck and start bouncing on his cock. 

Your walls are so tight around him, and you feel so warm, so wet, so perfect . He feels like he’s in heaven. His eyes roll back and he bites his lip to stifle his moans. Grabbing onto your thighs and digging his nails into your soft skin, he already feels like he’s going to cum. 

But you’re quickly overcome by pleasure too. He’s supposed to be a virgin, so how is this feeling so damn good? He isn’t even really doing anything! He’s just so big, and watching his flustered expression as you ride him turns you on so much. He doesn’t even have to do anything and he hits you in all the right places.

It’s so cute watching him trying so hard not to cum, so you pick up the pace to torture him more. “ Ahh! Gyutaro! You’re so big,” you moan cutely. 

“ Ngh- Shhhh! Wh-what if mom hears you?!” He says through his moans, “We-we really shouldn’t be- Ahh~ d-doing this!”

“Haha sorry,” you giggle, “You just feel so good I can’t control myself~”

“I-It’s fine,” your comment makes his heart flutter. He clenches his teeth and quickly starts losing control, moaning a bit too loudly himself when you pick up the pace. “I-I can’t -Ngh- can’t last much longer,” he whines beneath you. 

“Gonna cum in me? Gonna fill me up, huh?”

“No I-I can pull out, just-” he groans as the pleasure overwhelms him, “Just stop for a second -Ahh! ”

You hold onto his wrists so he can’t push you away, and you move faster. Your velvety walls clenching him so tightly, practically begging for his semen. “C’mon Gyu~ Please cum in me!” Your mind is so fuzzy and drunk on lust for him that you don’t think about the fact that you aren’t on birth control. All you care about is having him pump you full of his seed.

A pathetically needy whimper escapes his lips as his body moves on its own, his hips rutting up into you as he spills inside of you. His cock twitching along with the rest of his body as he pumps your walls full of his hot sticky cum. 

“ Ah ah aaahhh… Y/N ,” he moans.

While he sits there recovering from his intense orgasm, you finish yourself off by rubbing circles into your clit with your fingers. Your legs shake as you orgasm all over him. Eliciting a hiss to escape him as he feels you tighten around his sensitive cock. 

With a satisfied grin, you move off of him and stand up. His cum slowly seeps out of you and rolls down your thighs. 

He stares at you with a perverted smile - watching with fascination as his semen spills out of you. You hurriedly put your panties back on, pulling them up and forcing his cum to pool in them. Keeping your cunt nice and soaked. 

Gyutaro quickly pulls his pants back up to hide the fact that he’s getting hard again from seeing his cum create a wet spot in your panties. After how hard he came, he still feels pussy drunk. Still unable to believe this actually happened, but too satisfied to complain anymore. He knows it’s wrong, but your pussy feels so good that he’ll find any way to justify it just so he can feel you around him again. 

He looks so cute and flustered right now, like he wants to deny what just happened for the sake of his dignity, but is torn because of the lust he feels for you. He just needs a bit of convincing. So, you sit beside him on the couch and snuggle up to him. Laying your head on his chest and wrapping your arms around his waist. 

“You’re the best step-brother ever, Gyu,” you whisper.

[pepi1989]

Hey there ❤️💃 love your stories! Ben’s been my fav for a while now and his stories? *chefs kiss* So fun and sweet, I absolutely love the slightly angsty one AND cuddly sweet ones 🥰

And it got me thinking and lost in daydreaming… how about a Ben one where tennisplayer! reader TM is mad at him, like seriously angry at him because he messed up for whatever reason and he works hard to get reader back?? Is that weird??

PS: also super happy everything went well with your surgery!

Hi babe! Thanks for the love 💖 I’m so happy you’ve been enjoying the stories!! And thank you so much for the kind words, everything’s going great now 💕

Making Amends - Ben Shelton

It’s not like I go around comparing myself to her. She's his ex, sure, but she was supposed to be out of the picture. And I didn’t mind when her name came up, Ben’s past is his past, just like mine is mine. But today, when I found out why he wasn’t there at practice? That was different.

We had a session planned, something fun, just the two of us hitting on the courts before the next tournament. I’d been looking forward to it all week. It’s our thing, the way we connect beyond the relationship stuff. So when I showed up, racket in hand, only to find out he wasn’t coming, because he was with her?

That stung.

I didn’t even want to know what he was doing with her. Something about helping her move, or some other lame excuse. But all I could hear was that he dropped everything for Olivia without even bothering to let me know. And suddenly, I’m the last priority.

My phone buzzes again. I glance at the screen.

Ben: Please just talk to me.

I chew on the inside of my cheek, fingers hovering over the screen, unsure if I should finally give in and answer. I’m so angry, but at the same time, the silence between us is starting to feel unbearable. We’ve never gone this long without talking.

Before I can stop myself, I hit “Call.”

The phone rings twice before he picks up, voice breathless like he’s been running.

“Y/N?” His voice cracks a little when he says my name, full of hope and worry.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, my voice low but sharp. I don’t waste time on pleasantries. There’s no point. “Why did you blow me off for her?”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end, just long enough to make my heart sink. He’s searching for the right words, but I’ve already run through a thousand things in my head, and none of them make me feel better.

“I didn’t blow you off,” he says finally. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then explain it to me, because from where I’m standing, it looks exactly like that.”

I hear him exhale deeply, like he’s trying to calm himself down before he speaks. “I know it looks bad, and I’m sorry I missed practice. But Olivia needed help, and I thought it’d be quick. I should’ve told you. I should’ve texted-”

“You should’ve,” I cut him off. “But you didn’t.”

He’s quiet again, and I can picture him, running his hand through his curls the way he does when he’s stressed. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it,” he says softly, “because Olivia doesn’t matter. She’s just someone I used to know. I didn’t think you’d care.”

That’s what gets me.

“I do care, Ben. I care when you blow me off without a word. I care when you don’t even think I deserve to know where you are.” My voice cracks, the frustration and hurt all bubbling to the surface. “I care when you make it feel like she’s more important than me.”

“I swear, she’s not.” He’s quick to reply, panic creeping into his voice. “She’s not. It was just… bad timing. You know I’d never choose her over you.”

“I don’t know that,” I say, my throat tight. “Because it feels like you did.”

He breathes out a curse, and I can tell he’s pacing now, probably somewhere in his apartment, trying to figure out how to make this right. “I messed up, I know I did. But please believe me, I was just trying to be helpful. That’s it. There’s nothing going on with Olivia.”

I close my eyes, leaning back against the wall, trying to steady my breathing. His voice sounds so sincere, but my mind is still spinning, replaying all the ways he didn’t choose me today. All the moments he could’ve told me and didn’t.

“What do you want me to say, Ben?” I ask, my voice quieter now, the fight starting to drain out of me. “That it’s okay? That I’m fine with this?”

“No.” His voice is firm, but gentle. “I don’t want you to just say it’s fine. I want you to tell me how I can make it right.”

I let out a shaky breath, pressing my fingers against my temple. “I don’t know.”

“I’ll do anything,” he says quickly, his voice softening. “I’ll make it up to you. Cancel whatever plans I have, make sure I never do this again. Just don’t shut me out, okay?”

I can hear the desperation in his voice, and for a moment, I wonder if maybe I’m being too harsh. But then I remember the empty courts, the way he didn’t show up for me today. I shake my head, even though he can’t see me.

“I just… I need some space right now.”

His silence feels heavy, like he’s holding his breath, trying to figure out what to say next. “Okay,” he finally whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll give you space. But I’m not giving up on us, okay? I’m going to fix this.”

I spend the next few days in this weird limbo, trying to sort out my feelings. Ben’s been good about giving me space like I asked, but the absence feels heavier than I expected. I miss him. But every time I think about texting him, that knot of frustration tightens again.

Then, on the third day, I find something waiting at my door.

A bouquet of flowers, wildflowers. There’s a note attached. I hesitate before picking it up, then unfold the paper carefully.

"I know I messed up. I just want to talk, please meet me at the courts? 7 PM. I’ll be waiting. - B"

I run my fingers over the handwriting, my chest tightening. It’s simple, but somehow, that makes it mean more. I know Ben, and I know that when he says he’ll be waiting, he will be, no matter how long it takes.

Part of me is still hesitant, the sting of our last conversation fresh in my mind. But I also know that if I keep pushing him away, I might lose him for real this time. And that scares me more than anything.

By the time 7 PM rolls around, I’m at the courts, the setting sun casting long shadows over the asphalt. My heart is racing as I spot him, standing there with his racket in hand, glancing around nervously. He sees me before I can even step onto the court, his brown eyes lighting up with relief.

“You came,” he breathes, walking towards me.

“I wasn’t sure if I would,” I admit, crossing my arms. “But I guess I’m here.”

He nods, swallowing hard like he’s trying to figure out where to start. “I know I messed up. I know I should’ve told you about Olivia, and I hate that I hurt you. You didn’t deserve that.”

I stare at him, trying to keep my face neutral, even though my heart is aching. “So why didn’t you?”

Ben lets out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t think it was a big deal at the time. But I get it now. I made it feel like you didn’t matter, and that’s the last thing I wanted to do. You’re everything to me. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard, and before I can stop myself, the wall I’d built around my heart starts to crumble. I drop my arms, looking down at the racket he’s holding.

“You brought the rackets,” I say quietly.

A small smile tugs at his lips. “Thought maybe we could practice, like we were supposed to. No interruptions this time. I promise.”

I bite my lip, the tension slowly leaving my body. I missed this, him, us, the way we understand each other even in the middle of all the mess. I take a deep breath, letting the last bit of anger slip away.

“Okay,” I finally say, stepping onto the court. “Let’s see if you can keep that promise.”

Ben’s smile widens, and I can tell he’s trying to hold back the excitement as he hands me a racket. “I’ll do more than that. I’ll prove to you I can be better.”

We play for a while, the rhythm of our movements familiar and comforting. Every hit feels like a small piece of the puzzle falling back into place, and slowly, the tension between us starts to lift. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start.

After an hour or so, I’m panting, bent over my knees, laughing as Ben grins at me from across the net.

“You still mad at me?” he asks, his voice teasing, but there’s a flicker of hope in his eyes.

I straighten up, wiping the sweat from my forehead. “I was pretty mad, yeah.”

“And now?”

I pretend to think about it, dragging out the silence just long enough for him to shift nervously on his feet. Then, I smile, really smile, for the first time in days. “I think you’re starting to make it up to me.”

He drops his racket and jogs over to my side of the net, eyes bright with relief. “Good, because I’ve got a lot more making up to do.”

Before I can reply, he pulls me into his arms, holding me tight like he’s afraid to let go. I wrap my arms around his waist, breathing in the familiar scent of him, and for the first time in days, I feel like everything might just be okay again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into my hair. “I’ll never put you in that position again.”

“I know,” I say softly, resting my head against his chest. “I believe you.”

He pulls back just enough to look down at me, his brown eyes full of warmth and love. “You do?”

I nod, smiling up at him. “Yeah. I do.”

Ben grins, that boyish smile I fell in love with, and leans down to kiss me,soft, sweet, and full of all the promises I know he’ll keep.

[wolfjackle-creates]

I'll Carry Your Heart with Me (Until I Find You Again): Part 2

This time we switch to Danny's POV. 2.4k words long.

There's been a bit of a time skip and their friendship has only grown with time.

First

---------

“Mr. Fenton!” and a smack on his desk caused Danny to jump. He hadn’t even realized he’d been staring out the window.

“Sorry, Mr. Lancer. Did you ask something?”

“Your grades may have improved over these last few months, but that does not give you leave to daydream in my class. I expect you to pay attention. Now, why don’t you explain what the repetition of ‘Brutus in an honorable man’ in Marc Antony’s soliloquy at Caesar’s funeral means.”

Jason had done such a good job reading that speech that Danny actually thought he could repeat it from memory. “Oh, it’s done sarcastically. To indicate he’s anything but.”

“Hmm. Very good. I hope you can keep up this new studious attitude of yours.”

Danny’s leg bounced as the rest of the class seemed to pass so slowly. As soon as he got home, he wanted to visit Jason again. His friend’s tutelage had helped not only his grades but also his fights. Who knew formal training could have such an affect? Well, he needed to pay him back.

It took all of Danny’s focus to not let his eyes drift out the window again, but he barely heard a word Mr. Lancer said as class dragged on.

And finally the bell rang, signaling the end of the day.

Danny shoved his binder in his backpack and rushed out the door without even waiting for Sam and Tucker.

He was moving as fast as possible without actually running in the halls to switch things out in his locker. It was there Sam and Tucker caught up to him.

“What’s got you in such a rush today?” asked Sam.

Danny flushed. “I’m meeting Jason today. Taking him to Ghost Writer’s lair. He’ll love the library and Ghost Writer said it’d be okay so long as I don’t so much as touch a single piece of paper or even breathe too hard on anything.”

“Dude, how’d you get him to agree to that? Ghost Writer hates you!”

Not wanting to admit how long he’d spent groveling, Danny shrugged. “I apologized to him and emphasized how much Jason loved books and writing.”

“Woah, the Danny Fenton apologized to someone? Is the world ending?”

“Shut up, Sam. I’m not that bad.”

“You kinda are, dude,” commented Tucker.

“Pot, meet kettle.” Sam flicked the back of both their heads.

“Now that pick-on-Danny time is over, I need to go!”

Tucker grinned and said, “We want all the details on your date soon as you get back!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Danny waved them off as he half-jogged out of the building. He pulled out his phone to text Jazz.

Danny: Did you get mom and dad out of the house? Jazz: Yep. Jazz: They’re coming to the school for a parent-teacher conference Danny: Thanks! Danny: You’re a life saver! Jazz: Have fun on your date Danny: How many times do I have to tell you! Danny: Not. A. Date.

Running was too slow. Danny ducked out of sight of the road and let the coolness of his transformation wash over him before flying home. So much faster.

And sure enough, when he reached home, the GAV was nowhere to be seen. With a sigh of relief, he phased through the walls right to the lab and through the portal. Even in the ever changing realms, Danny knew the path to Jason’s lair by heart; it’s location shone like a beacon in his awareness.

Something must have been on his side, because he was approaching the island within a few minutes of passing through the portal. From his core, he sent out a greeting. A moment later, he got a return pulse from Jason followed by the ghost himself.

“Jay!” Danny trilled a greeting.

“Hey there, human-boy. Ready to have your ass kicked?” Jason grinned and tossed an ectoblast his way.

Danny laughed and blocked it with ice. “I’ve got a different idea, actually. What would you say to me introducing you to another ghost? I got permission to take you to his lair and you’ll absolutely love it. He may be a bigger book nerd than you.”

Jason hesitated and looked over his shoulder at his lair.

But Danny had anticipated that. Jay was still a young ghost and obviously hesitant to leave his lair. He gave a loud whistle. “Don’t worry so much, a friend of mine will be able to look after your lair for you.”

Before Jason could even ask what he meant, excited barking just barely preceded Cujo jumping onto Danny’s chest and licking his face.

Laughing, Danny asked in baby-talk. “Who’s a good boy, who’s a good boy!” Cujo barked at him.

He’d never introduced Jay to Cujo before and Jay was watching them with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t know you had a dog.”

“Not my dog, he chose me. But he can protect your lair. Right, Cujo? You’ll protect Jason’s lair? And come get us if something happens you can’t fight off?” Cujo barked and rolled over to show off his belly and Danny rubbed it roughly.

Jay laughed. “No offense, but how good a guard dog is he? He seems too friendly.”

Danny looked up and let his grin turn a bit sharper before moving a bit away from Cujo. “Oh, he’s the best. Cujo, big!” he ordered.

Cujo’s happy yaps turned to menacing growls as he grew to his large form, drool dripping from sharpened teeth.

Jason’s mouth fell open and he stared. “Wow. How common is it for ghosts to be able to change shape like that?”

“No idea. Queen Dora can transform into a dragon. And Bernard can take any shape he wants. Spectra goes from a black shadow to a human-looking middle aged woman. Each is a bit different.”

“Every time I think I get used to this place… Are you sure my lair will be safe with him?”

Cujo transformed back into a puppy and ran to Jason barking, circling him once before licking his face, too.

“Here, I’ll prove it. Cujo! What do you do if someone comes close?”

Cujo’s barking got deep again as he grew in size.

“Good boy! And what do you do if someone attacks who you can’t fight off?”

Cujo shrunk down and ran to Jason and nipped at his clothing, trying to drag him towards the island.

Jason grinned. “You are a good boy, aren’t you? Keep it safe for me? We won’t be gone too long.” Though after saying that, he did look up at Danny as if to confirm.

“You’ll wish we were staying longer when you see the place. Jazz knows where I am and can distract my parents for tonight. But I do have to get back and sleep and show my face at some point.”

“Got it.” Jason turned his back to Danny to look over his lair. “Then I think I’m good to go. Should I bring anything?”

“Nah, you’re fine just as you are. Now, come on! We don’t want to waste any time!”

Jason turned back to face him and as he did, his outfit transformed once more into his Robin uniform. His flaming hair matched the uniform perfectly. “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

Danny smirked. “Let’s see how well you can keep up.” Without waiting an instant more, he flew off. Not at his top speed, but still quite fast. He laughed as Jason cursed him and did his best to keep up.

The Zone must have been in a good mood today because it didn’t take them long to get to Ghost Writer’s lair. Danny paused before crossing the border and flared his aura to announce his and Jason’s approach. Jason copied the gesture a moment later.

Around them, the very air seemed to grow heavy. It felt like someone was looking right through them and examining their very souls. Next to him, Danny could sense Jason tense as he crouched into a defensive stance.

“Calm down, Jay. He’s just checking us out before letting us into his lair.” By the time he’d finished speaking, the heaviness lifted and a sense of Welcome washed over them. The door to the library swung open.

Without waiting for Jay to ask what was going on, Danny grabbed his hand and pulled him into the building where Ghost Writer was waiting just past the doorway.

“So you must be the young Jason that Danny”—his lip curled just a bit as he said Danny’s name and Danny tried not to flinch—“told me so much about. Welcome. I am Ghost Writer.”

Danny looked over to Jason to see what he thought. Jason was staring past Ghost Writer with his mouth wide open. His clothing had transformed back into his civvies and his hair was a burning white inferno on top of his head. Something must have penetrated his brain because he gave himself a little shake. His eyes met Danny’s briefly and Danny had to stifle a laugh at how wide and shocked they look.

But then he fixed his attention on Ghost Writer. “This is your lair? It is amazing! I’ve never seen anything like it. How’d you get so many books?”

Danny’s once-enemy smiled at the boy. The expression looked out of place on his face. “Every book ever written ends up in my domain.”

Somehow, Jason’s mouth managed to fall open even further. “Every book? How is that possible?”

“Yes, every book. I’ll give you a tour and explain. But first, the rules for all who enter my domain. You will treat every book with care—”

“Of course!” interrupted Jason who had gone back to staring at the high ceilings and walls covered in bookshelves.

“—the instant you damage a book is the last time you will be allowed to visit,” continued Ghost Writer as if he’d never been interrupted. “You may not remove any books from my domain. Danny is not allowed to touch a book. Nor to look at any too closely nor to breathe too hard near them.”

That finally caught Jason’s attention. “What? Why not?”

“He damaged a book.”

Danny looked down and rubbed the back of his neck, unable to meet Jason’s eyes. He wasn’t proud of his actions that day.

“What? Danny!” scolded Jason.

“Indeed. The only reason he is allowed back here is because he apologized profusely and begged for the chance to take you here. He indicated you have given him a new appreciation for literature which I wish to encourage to keep the rest of my collection safe. Now, follow me and I will show you how to find what you’re looking for.”

Danny tried to pay attention as Ghost Writer showed them around. He really did. But the tour took so long and they traveled through room after room after room. And these were only the books written in English!

Jason didn’t get bored, though. He continued to stare at the walls in wonder, every so often catching Danny’s eyes. Danny liked watching him. Far more interesting than learning which time period or geographical location the current shelves contained.

Finally, after what felt like ages to Danny, the returned to the first room.

“The two of you may stay for three hours. Depending on your behavior, future visits may be longer, shorter, or prohibited.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I’ll definitely make the most of it. Your domain is beyond amazing.” Without wasting any more time on pleasantries, Jason grabbed Danny’s hand and pulled him out of the first room through a doorway.

Once they were out of sight, Jason stopped and stared at Danny. He opened and closed his mouth before swallowing as if unsure what to say. They were still holding hands.

Danny laughed self-consciously. “So, do you like it?”

Jason continued to stare at him. “I…” he started. He shook his head, but his eyes were still wide in wonder. Jason bit his lip and then lunged forward. The hand that wasn’t holding his cradled the back of his head as Jason pressed their mouths together hard.

His lips were hot, far hotter than a human’s, but before Danny could react even enough to close his eyes, Jason was pulling away. Danny tightened his grip on his hand to keep him from retreating entirely.

In fact, he took a step closer until scant inches separated them. Moving much more slowly than Jason had, he leaned forward and brushed their lips together softly. Jason twitched, but didn’t pull away, so Danny did it again. Only this time, he didn’t pull away.

Jason’s hand once more found their way to the back of his head. Danny closed his eyes as his lips parted slightly. Jay’s tongue probed, and Danny met it with his own. Deep in his chest, his core pulsed out a message affection, happiness.

Jason replied in kind. Thank you, amazing, disbelief, affection. Kissing a ghost was nothing like kissing a human. The waves of emotion made the connection so much deeper in one way. And even physically, Jason’s mouth was so much warmer than a human’s due to his fire core.

And they didn’t need to stop to breathe. That was fantastic.

However, there time here was limited, so with a pulse of disappointment, Danny pulled away. “We are definitely going to be doing that some more,” Danny said, though he sent out a non-verbal question of you want?, “But you’ve less than three hours here. Make the most of it.”

Jason’s responding pulse of yes, more made Danny grin. Verbally, he added, “Danny… This is… I… Thank you.”

“Of course.” Danny laughed as if it had been easy to set up. “Now go have fun, book nerd.”

Jason tweaked his nose, leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on the lips, and rushed to the nearest bookshelf to see what he could find.

Danny crossed his legs and floated in a sitting position as he watched Jason take down two books and open them both as he examined what was written. “Danny! He has earlier drafts of Bleak House! This is so crazy. I wonder how much Dickens changed from his initial draft to the final printing?”

“Well, looks like now you can find out.”

“I can find out. Holy shit.” Jason sent out another wave of Thank you, affection.

The sentiment warmed Danny up just as much as their physical touch.

----------

Next

Tag list:

@echoednonny, @britcision

[junkdrawerfics]

Sweet Tooth (Sequel to Sweet Interruptions)

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw X Reader

Part 1

Summary: After a week of dating, Rooster asks you to teach him to bake. Safe to say, the night does not go as plan, and flour gets everywhere. (Could be read as a stand alone)

Word Count: 2068

Warnings: The smallest bit of saucy flirting, but this is mostly fluff. No beta.

----

“You want to learn to bake?” You ask, blinking up at Rooster owlishly.

“Why not?” He looks at you with one of those dopey smiles.

You bite back a grin, tipping up on your toes before bouncing back on your heels, “I could, we can do that! We can, I mean, if you want, you can come to my place?”

“Not gonna ask me to dinner first, sweetheart?”

Your whole face flushes and you scrunch your nose at the aviator, “We- You- Roo, we’ve been to dinner three times in, in the past week!”

Rooster smirks, amusement building in his chest with each word you stumble over. It’s true. You’d only been officially going out for a week, but he’s made it a priority to spend as many nights with you as he can. There’s no telling when his next mission will be, and he’s trying really hard not to think about that. He’d rather focus on you, anyways.

“Sure wasn’t expecting you to make the next move, darlin’,” he drawls softly, watching as your face gets even darker.

“Do you want to or not?” You grumble, ducking your head, “I…I think it’d be fun.”

Rooster reaches over to grab your hand, giving it a squeeze, “It will be. How does tonight sound?”

Your heart flutters. “Tonight would be great, Roo.”

“Good.” He leans over the counter, presses a kiss to your cheek, which draws a giggle from you. “I have to get to work, but I’ll see you tonight.”

“Oh, wait!” Rooster’s brows raise as you dash away, only to come back with a little, pink box. You shove it in his hands, bouncing excitedly on your toes. “Take this for Phoenix! She promised to try it for me!” 

“You don’t want my opinion?”

“You’ll eat anything, Bradley,” you snort and start packing a few muffins for the rest of the pilots.

Rooster gives you a sly smile, dark eyes tracing your form, “I would sure like to.” 

“Bradley!” Warmth spreads across your skin, everywhere his eyes linger. His smile turns cheeky, and you’re all but floundering, heart beating as fast as a rabbit. You glance around wildly. “I’m, we’re in the bakery!”

“And?”

“You can’t, you can’t just, don’t say stuff like that here,” you whine, pouting at him, which just seems to amuse him more.

“What about at your place tonight?” He hums, and oh, you wish you could hit him. You wish you could hit him so bad.

“You are insufferable,” you grumble, pushing the box of muffins across the counter.

Rooster laughs and you soften, shaking your head fondly at the idiot. He gives you another kiss, just a chaste press of his lips to yours, before grabbing the second box and heading towards the door.

“That didn’t sound like a ‘no’, by the way,” he calls over his shoulder.

“Go to work!”

He chuckles and the bell rings with his exit.

You slump against the counter, rubbing a hand over your face, which feels way too warm. The man never quits. Some day, you think your heart might give out with all this distress. Yet, you can’t stop the smile that plays on your lips. Because you love it. You love how Rooster teases you and you never want him to stop.

But, God, how on earth are you going to get through an evening alone with him?

---

You bustle around your kitchen, hands fluttering to and fro as you try to make sure everything is in place. Plenty of flour? Check. Clean measuring cups? Check. Radio to account for any awkward pauses in conversation? Check.

That last bit might be unnecessary, but you wanted to account for anything. Plus, you know Rooster likes music, and you have the faintest daydreams of dancing in the kitchen with the tall man…You smile at the thought. It would be nice, just you and Rooster, some soft music playing in the background, holding each other close as you sway to the beat.

Gosh, it’d be nice.

You’re drawn from your daydreams by a solid knock on the door. Brushing your hands on your pants - why are you sweating so much? - you hustle over and throw it open.

And there he is. Bradley stands on your porch, cast in the soft glow of the setting sun. His skin looks even more golden than usual, and his eyes catch the fading light, flashing like the sparklers you swing around on the Fourth of July. Your chest fills with the kind of fondness that makes you feel fuzzy all over, and suddenly, all your anxieties are swept away.

“Hey, Roo,” you murmur.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He bends down, hand gently touching your waist as he presses a kiss to your lips. “How was your day?”

“Pretty okay,” you giggle and tug him inside, “Though this guy with a mustache gave me some trouble this morning.”

“Yah?” Rooster grins, just letting you drag him along. “Maybe he likes you.”

“You think so?” You hum, warmth blooming across your cheeks.

“Definitely,” he murmurs and draws you into another kiss. 

It’s a slow kiss, one where you’re both just savoring the feeling. You sigh against his lips, practically melting when his hands trail up, tracing over your arms, your neck, to hold your face tenderly. When you pull apart, he stays close, forehead pressing against yours, thumbs running over your cheeks.

“Hmmm, you know, I think I like him too,” you breathe, eyes closed as you just enjoy the heat of his touch.

“Good, I’d be in a pretty sore spot if you didn’t,” Rooster chuckles, “Everybody already thinks I shouldn’t have a chance in hell with you.”

“You’re friends don’t even know me,” you mumble, nose scrunching as you pull away.

“They already like you more than me.” He rolls his eyes with one of his lopsided grins. “Phoenix really liked whatever you gave her, by the way. She says she wants to marry you.”

“O-h-” you smile down at your hands, “-she’s um, she’s sweet. I’m glad she liked it.”

“What was it?” He asks curiously, following you as you slip into the kitchen.

“A strawberry shortcake cookie with homemade whipped cream,” you chirp, “I thought it would be fun for Valentine’s Day.”

“Is that what we’re making tonight?” Rooster curls an arm around your waist, propping his chin on your shoulder.

“I um, I thought we could make uh, thumbprint cookies?” You peer up at him from the corner of your eyes, trying to read his expression. You’ve been worried about this part.

A flicker of surprise crosses through Rooster’s eyes, followed by the familiar glint he gets whenever he thinks about his parents. Something between love and pain. He holds you a little tighter and you cover his hand with yours, thumb brushing over his knuckles as you wait patiently for him to speak.

 “My mom and I used to make those when I was younger,” he eventually says, voice a touch raspy.

“I know…” You murmur, turning around so you can cup his face in your hands, just like he had done to you moments before. “I hunted Maverick down and asked him. Is that…okay?”

He takes a deep breath. With a small nod, he covers one of your hands and turns to press a kiss to your palm, “That’s okay, yah. I’m just surprised, is all.”

“Good surprised?”

“Yah.” He smiles at you, warmth dancing in his eyes. “Are you sure you didn’t fall into a bat of sugar when you were younger?”

“No,” you giggle.

“Hmm, why are you so sweet then?” Another kiss and now you’re the one with the dopey smile, cheeks apple red.

“Let’s bake, ya dumb bird.”

“Your dumb bird.”

“Stop it!” You lightly swat his chest and twirl to face the counter, ears now tipped with blush.

He doesn’t stop, not that you actually wanted him to, of course. It’s hard to stay focused as you take him through the recipe step by step, though, especially when he decides to stand so close, arm firmly wrapped around your waist as he helps you measure and pour and mix. At one point, he lets his hand “slip” which ends with you “accidentally” throwing a bunch of flour in his face.

You freeze, lips pressing into a thin line, eyes wide as saucers.

Bradley blinks, flour falling from his eyelashes.

Seconds tick by in silence, that is, until you burst into a wild fit of giggles.

“You think this is funny?” Rooster asks, powdered brows perched high as he watches you grasp at your sides, practically wheezing.

“You look, you look-” You can’t get anything else out, laughter only getting louder when he huffs, sending a small puff of flour into the air.

“Oh, you’re so getting it now.”

You squeal gleefully, darting away when he grabs a handful of flour. He chases you around your living room, hot on your heels. The two of you end up on either side of your couch, both poised to make a run for it. Rooster narrows his eyes at you, and you try to catch your breath, but your lips still pull into a wide grin. When he feints right, you jump away, only to yelp when he switches directions and catches your wrist. You go tumbling to the floor, dragging him down with you in a flurry storm of flour. Bradley catches himself easily, arms braced on either side of your shoulders. All you can do is stare up at him, breathless, skin buzzing from the adrenaline coursing through your system. 

“Not so funny now, huh?” He prompts, grin wolfish.

“Well, most of it is still on you,” you point out, giggling when he frowns.

“Oh really?”

Another squeal escapes you when Bradley shakes his head, kind of like a dog with wet fur. Flour sprays all over your face, leaving you sputtering and begging him to stop. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!” You shield your face, peaking out only when the flour shower stops. Rooster looks down at you, face too smug to be good for his ego. 

“Still think it’s funny?”

“Nope! Not funny, at all. Totally not funny.” But you’re still grinning like crazy because his mustache is still dusted white. It somehow doesn’t take away from how attractive he is.

Rooster’s eyes twinkle as he looks down at you, all fondness and warmth. The splatters of flour on your face remind him of the first night he met you. To think you’d end up here, only a few weeks later. He’s crazy for you, in a way he’s never felt for someone. This must be how his dad felt for his mom. Rooster pauses. The realization settles deep in his chest, like the waves of a storm finally stilling, and for the first time in a long while, Rooster finds that he feels like he’s home. Like you’re his home now. You’re his everything. And he has to tell you.

Don’t think, just do, that’s what Mav would say.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

“I love you, Roo.”

You both freeze.

A moment of silence. You search Bradley’s gaze, wonderstruck deep to your core at the brimming earnesty you find there. This isn’t teasing. This isn’t flirting. This is real.

You bite your lip, face going positively cherry as you reach up and tug Rooster down by his shirt, bringing your lips to his in a moment of boldness. He shifts down to his elbows, careful to not crush you with his weight. Your lips are soft against his, and you taste like sugar cookie dough, and all he wants is to just pull you closer, kiss you all night, never let this go. You’re gasping softly when he pulls away, a breathy giggle escaping you when he kisses your cheek, your nose, your forehead. When he reaches your lips again, you’re both grinning madly, just like your first kiss that night.

“This must be what a sugar high feels like. You’re gonna give me cavities, baby,” Rooster laughs, collapsing beside you on the carpet. You curl into his side, beaming into his shirt when he presses a final kiss to your hair and murmurs a soft, “Good thing I have a sweet tooth.”

---

The cookies don’t get finished that night.

But that’s fine. It just means another night, hopefully just like this one.

----

Might make a part 3 because I was planning angst, but this is what I wrote, and I still love it.