#it’s like when your parents are friends so then you have to be friends with their kids in a way and then also like. you’re the only kids

[norrisainz33]

announcement || mv33

☆ summary: max and his private wife have been keeping a big secret

☆ pairing: max verstappen x private!nonfamous!wife!reader

☆ fc & warnings: amata alp & mentions of pregnancy

☆ requested: yes! thank you for your patience 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynverstappen has posted to their story 🔒

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maxverstappen1: glad you’re with y/bff tho i do wish you were here my love

ynverstappen: i wish i was there too. i hate having to miss your races

maxverstappen1: i know you do sweetheart but you’ve got big things to worry about right now 🤍

ynverstappen: i know i just wish you were here to worry about them with me!

ynverstappen: ugh i’m sorry i know you have no choice in the matter

maxverstappen1: don’t apologize liefje. i know this is not like the easiest time for me to be away! i will be home so soon so i can help take care of you

carmenmundt: y/n where have you beeeeeeen it��s been so long!!

ynverstappen: been very busy with work and with holding down the fort here in monaco!! i hope to be back at some races soon 🤍

alexandrasaintmleux: gorgeous girl i miss you

ynverstappen: i miss you too babes

yourbff: my baby

ynverstappen: my girl

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, user7 and 11,849 others

f1gossip: during todays redline stream the chat was flooded with questions about the whereabouts of y/n verstappen who has been absent from the paddock for the past couple of months. while y/n is relatively private and we don’t usually get many social media updates from her outside of her interior design firm’s posting, she almost never misses the opportunity to support max on a race weekend let alone several in a row. max assured the chat that y/n was ok and that she was just taking some time to herself and that she’d be back in the paddock soon enough. what do you all make of this?

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user1: i’m so glad y/nmax are fine

user2: you could even hear her in the background at one point asking max what he wanted for dinner!! glad we are getting some crumbs

user4: omg ok good!! i thought that was her but couldn’t tell

user3: i was about to email her interior design firm to ask if she was ok thank god max updated us

user4: walk with me here guys…. what if we haven’t seen her bc she’s…… pregnant???

user6: oh my god you might be on to something!! they have been married for almost 2 years now

user7: no this is so believable!!! they’d make the best parents

user5: y/n’s ability to stay under the radar and unbothered is incredible

user8: y/n is the coolest wag i wish she was chronically online like so many of the others

user7: ugh fr!! i wish we could follow her on literally anything 💔

ynverstappen has posted to their story 🔒

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francisca.cgomes: are you redoing part of your house? is this why you’ve been so busy and i haven’t seen my best friend for WEEKS

ynverstappen: partially yes!! we are redoing the spare room. BUT you’ll see me this weekend for my party kiks

francisca.cgomes: and my god i can’t wait!! i miss you

ynvertsappen: i miss you too

landonorris: plans for what?

ynverstappen: idk 🤷🏻‍♀️

landonorris: liar!

maxverstappen1: they’re going to have the sweetest room 🤍

ynverstappen: yes they are 🤍 i’m so proud of how it’s turning out

georgerussell63: the 🤭 makes this feel like i’m on the outside of an inside joke

ynverstappen: you just might be georgie!!

georgerussell63: well what does that even mean

yourbff: i am brimming with excitement i can’t wait for you to tell everyone this weekend

ynverstappen: me too!! keeping this secret has been so tough but ultimately it’s been really nice to have something that’s just for me and max even if just for a short while

yourbff: no i totally get that y/n/n!! max has to share his life with the whole world so im sure it’s nice to have those private moments

yoursibling: i need you to facetime me when you tell carmen and kika bc they’re going to lose their minds

ynverstappen: oh i absolutely will

ynverstappen has made a post 🔒

liked by carmenmundt, iamrebeccad, maxverstappen1, alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes, interiordesignbyyn and 201 others

ynverstappen: i’m so glad all my favorite people could come celebrate the news 🩷 baby verstappen due in january 🤍 mommy and daddy love you endlessly already 💙

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carmenmundt: i can’t wait to be an aunty!!! best news ever 🤍

ynverstappen: and i can’t wait for you to be an aunty!! baby v is going to be so loved

carmenmundt: they already are!!

francisca.cgomes: can’t believe my favorite person in the world is going to be a mom 🥹

ynverstappen: love you kika 🥹

maxverstappen1: 💙🩷

ynverstappen: 😘😘

iamrebeccad: you’re going to make the perfect mom

ynverstappen: i really hope so 🤍

georgerussell63: blimey! i can’t wait to meet the little one!!

ynverstappen: only 3 more months!!

landonorris: uncle lando is reporting for duty

ynverstappen: baby v is going to love their uncle lan!!

maxverstappen1: baby v is already lucky to have you mate

alexandrasaintmleux: the most beautiful maman 🤍

ynverstappen: don’t make me cry again 😭

maxverstappen1 has made a post

liked by ynverstappen, redbullracing, charesleclerc, alex_albon, landonorris, and 765,248 others

maxverstappen1: grateful for moments like these away from the track. next week is race week again in vegas but for now, enjoy some family photos 🤍

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user1: my favorite couple maybe ever

user3: y/n sign of life!!

user4: sticking to my delulu and thinking he said family bc she’s having a baby

landonorris: see you all soon🤍

ynverstappen: see you soon lannyyyyyy

user4: he’s feeding into my delusions here…. bc why did he say you all instead of you both

user6: omg does this mean y/n will be in vegas????

ynverstappen: i love our little family 🫶🏻

maxverstappen1: me too gorgeous

user2: not me crying over this post?? the heart shaped pizzas sent me over the edge

redbullracing: looking forward to seeing you back on track!

ynverstappen has added to their story 🔒

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maxverstappen1: i have a tracker on your flight. i think the anxiety of you and the little one being on a plane without me is going to eat me alive

ynverstappen: we will be ok maxie i promise!! im on air max, it’s safe here

maxverstappen1: it is but also i’m not there so it’s not as safe as it could be

ynverstappen: my sweet boy, take a deep breath. you have quali soon

maxverstappen1: yes yes yes i’m breathing deeply

francisca.cgomes: well thank GOD i need you in the paddock

ynverstappen: pls come stay in rb hospitality w me

francisca.cgomes: for you i will just don’t tell pierre

charlesleclerc: on a scale of 1-10 how stressed is max

ynverstappen: 16

redbullracing: we can’t wait to see you!!

iamrebeccad: yayayayayayya!!!!!!!

ynverstappen: 😘😘😘😘😘😘

maxverstappen1 has made a post

liked by landonorris, ynverstappen, redbullracing, carmenmundt, charlesleclerc, and 754,984 others

maxverstappen1: for all of you wondering where y/n has been…. needless to say we’ve both been a little busy getting ready to welcome baby verstappen. only a few more months till the little one makes us a family of 3 🤍

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user1: best news ever!!!!

user4: i knew it!!! omg 🥹

charlesleclerc: congratulations mate! i am so excited for you both

maxverstappen1: thank you charles 💙 baby v is so lucky to have an uncle like you

user16: im violently sobbing over this interaction you don’t understand

redbullracing: having a mini rb20 made for baby v as we speak

ynverstappen: oh gosh admin no

maxverstappen1: admin yes!!

redbullracing: uh oh awkward

landonorris: yayyyyyy!!!!!!!! i can’t wait to babysit!!

ynverstappen: you’re going to be the best babysitter ever

user7: she is glowing

user9: max and y/n are going to make the most beautiful parents

f1gossip has made a post

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f1gossip: here to share a recap of max’s first interview since announcing y/n’s pregnancy mere minutes after qualifying. he said he wanted to announce it before sunday because y/n was absolutely adamant about being in the paddock for vegas and there was no hiding her baby bump at 6 months. max said “i can’t wait to be a dad! it’s honestly something i’ve been dreaming of for years and i’m so grateful to my beautiful wife for giving me the greatest gift.”

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user2: this is by far the happiest i’ve ever seen max and i am crying

user4: i love max and y/n so much i cant

user15: the way he talked about their baby ??? he already loves that little one so much

user18: i think having a baby is healing his inner child

user3: i love love love love love these 2

user19: crying screaming throwing up

user20: project verstappen!! lfg!!! next wdc champion incoming

user5: her refusing to miss another race is so real of her

user8: thank god she’s gonna be back in the paddock max needs her luck

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs always appreciated 🤍

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[hoshifighting]

𖧷 crybaby

— synopsis: seungcheol can’t help but be a crybaby every time you break his heart, yet he always comes running back to you, desperate for your attention. even when you leave him cold for days or push him away, he can’t seem to stay away. his friends and family don’t get it—they hate how you treat him.

— WC: 4.6k — WARNINGS: agnst, smut, emotionallly detached!reader, emotionally attached!seungcheol, crying, he kind of pisses his friends and family out because of his whiny ass, explicit language, blowjob, cock riding, clit stimulation, face slapping, choking. — inspired by: cry baby by megan thee stallion — ''his friends and his dad hate me, I broke his lil' heart, he's a crybaby"

seungcheol was such a fucking crybaby. like, how does a man that big, that beefy, built like he could crush a watermelon between his thighs, have the emotional resilience of a damp tissue? 5′10 of pure gym dedication and somehow, here he was, sulking like a kicked puppy in the corner of his own damn birthday party. honestly, you broke his heart so many times you’d lost count, but the man was like a boomerang—always came back. didn’t matter how hard you threw him.

his friends absolutely hated you. well, maybe hate was strong—more like they hated how he acted because of you. jeonghan said you lived rent-free in his head, which you knew was true. but the real kicker was his family. they couldn’t stand hearing your name. apparently, he cried into his whiskey glass over you at his last family dinner. like, straight-up sniffles and shaky voice in front of his dad. the boys’ nights weren’t any better; they’d barely crack open a soju bottle before seungcheol was teary-eyed, rambling about you like you were the love of his life and not the emotional hurricane you were.

but that’s the thing, though. seungcheol was built for family. the whole package—white picket fence, Sunday brunches, PTA meetings. meanwhile, you were emotionally unavailable as fuck. couldn’t even commit to a favorite boba flavor, let alone a relationship. and now, you’d ghosted him for a week. a whole-ass week. no texts, no calls, not even the stupid memes you usually sent him at 3 a.m.

today was his birthday. his fucking birthday.

the party at his place was in full swing—laughter, good food, good drinks, jeonghan and mingyu lowkey roasting him about his “girlfriend” (air quotes and all). his parents were there too, of course. his brother had even flown in. but cheol barely moved from the couch all night. just sat there, one arm slung over the backrest, looking at his phone like a guy waiting for a miracle.

because in his head, if you were his girlfriend—like, properly his—you’d be here. with him. celebrating, holding his hand, maybe sitting in his lap. but instead, he got radio silence.

“bro, seriously, what the fuck is your problem?” jeonghan hissed, leaning over the couch to snatch the beer from cheol’s hand. “your mom’s asking why you look like you’re about to cry into the birthday cake.”

“i’m fine,” cheol muttered, but even he didn’t sound convinced.

“no, you’re not. you’ve checked your phone like a hundred times, and it’s giving ‘sad loser.’ cut it out before mingyu makes a meme out of you.”

but cheol didn’t cut it out. he just stared at the screen, lips pulled into a pout so tragic it could’ve been a fucking Greek play. the hours dragged. one by one, people started leaving, and eventually, it wasn’t even his birthday anymore.

august 9th. 9:54 p.m.

cheol sighed, running a hand through his hair, looking like he was about to combust.

and then, his phone buzzed.

one message.

from: future girlfriend ❤️ - “come over.”

that’s it. two words, no explanation. cheol shot up from the couch so fast he nearly knocked over the coffee table.

jeonghan raised an eyebrow. “where the hell are you going?”

cheol didn’t answer. he was already grabbing his keys, muttering something about how he’d “she texted me.”

he hard his friend groan out in defeat, disappointment, some even surprised that seungcheol would leave his own party like that.

while you were still just chilling at your place, sitting there like nothing had happened, waiting to see if this man who you’d left on read for a week would actually show up.

spoiler alert—he would.

the door wasn’t even locked—like you’d left it wide open for him, knowing he’d come running the second you told him to. seungcheol stepped inside your apartment, and it was so you in a way that made his chest tighten. that familiar scent? god, it was everywhere. in the air, clinging to the couch, the walls, probably gonna soak into his clothes and stay there for days, torturing him. like you’d marked your territory without even trying.

he moved on autopilot, his feet carrying him down the hallway to your bedroom like he didn’t even need directions. the door was cracked open, and he froze for a second when he saw you.

you were standing there, slipping a sheer robe over your shoulders—transparent. and it wasn’t doing a damn thing to hide you. the way the fabric barely skimmed over your hips, nipples peeking through, leading his eyes all the way down to the hem that just teased your thighs… it was insane.

you turned your head slightly, catching him in the doorway like some kind of lost puppy. your expression was unreadable, but he looked at you like you were magic or something—eyes wide, lips slightly parted. pathetic.

you stepped toward him, and before he could even process it, his hands moved to your waist like they belonged there. your arms looped lazily around his neck, and the warmth of your skin had his breath hitching. you glanced over his shoulder at the clock on the wall—10:01 p.m.—then met his gaze, your lips curling.

“happy birthday… birthday boy,” you said, your voice smooth as velvet.

he exhaled shakily, his eyes fluttering shut like the sound of your voice was too much. his brows knit together in that pitiful little frown you’d missed more than you cared to admit.

“why’d you leave me like that?” he muttered, voice cracking slightly. “did… did i do something? i’m sorry, i—”

you didn’t answer, didn’t even flinch, because honestly? you didn’t have a reason. there was no deep, dark explanation, no hidden agenda. you just did.

instead, you pushed him backward toward the bed, your hands firm on his chest. he stumbled slightly but kept talking, his voice climbing higher in pitch.

“please, just—just tell me. what did i do? i can fix it, i swear, just—”

you pushed him harder this time, and he landed on the bed with a bounce. he stared up at you, eyes glassy, lips trembling. “answer me,” he whined, his voice soft and desperate.

“shhh,” you hushed, pressing a finger to his lips.

he whimpered at the touch, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “why—why won’t you just—”

your hand came down on his cheek in a sharp slap. not too hard, but enough to make him moan, his mouth falling open in a perfect little “o.”

“quiet,” you said firmly, watching as his expression shifted. the sting seemed to zap the fight out of him, his mouth closing into a pout as his tears spilled over.

“aww,” you cooed, leaning down to brush your thumb under his eye. “don’t cry, birthday boy. let me give you a gift.”

his gaze flickered immesiately. a gift? he nodded eagerly.

“you gonna be good for me?” you asked, tilting your head.

“y-yeah,” he stammered, his voice so small it made you smile.

your hands moving to his belt. the way he watched you, like you were about to destroy his dignity, was almost comical.

you tugged his pants and underwear down in with a graceful sweep, leaving him bare and exposed. his cock was already rock hard, flushed red and leaking precum that smeared against his stomach.

“look at you,” you teased, wrapping a hand around the base. his breath hitched at the contact, his hips jerking slightly. “crying all over yourself, huh?”

he let out a choked whimper, his hands fisting the sheets beside him. “i—i can’t help it,” he whispered.

“poor baby,” you mocked, your thumb swiping over the tip to collect the sticky wetness. his whole body twitched at the motion, his eyes squeezing shut as more tears slipped down his cheeks.

you leaned down, letting your lips hover just above him. “you’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you? never let you have it before, but tonight… you’re special.”

he nodded frantically, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. “please,” he begged, his voice breaking.

you smiled, finally taking him into your mouth. the heat and wetness made him sob outright, his hands flying to your hair but stopping short—like he was scared to touch you without permission.

“oh—fuck, fuck, fuck,” he babbled, his thighs trembling as you worked him over. your tongue dragged along the veins as your hand played with his balls, and he keened, his head falling back against the pillows.

“so good,” he choked out, tears streaming down his face. “m-missed you.”

you hummed around him, and the vibrations nearly sent him over the edge. his whole body tensed, his hips bucking slightly as he moaned your name.

“gonna be good for me?” you asked, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze.

“y-yes,” he stammered, his eyes glassy and desperate. “so good, i’ll be so good, please—”

“then take it,” you said, and he did.

your tongue swirled around the swollen tip of his cock, drawing a shuddering breath out of him that turned into a whimper when you pulled back slightly, letting a string of spit connect your lips to his flushed skin. his chest heaved, his abs clenching under the weight of your stare.

you fold your tongue up and slid along the underside of his length, like you had all the time in the world. his thighs trembled as you worked your way down, your nails scratching lightly along the sides of his hips, keeping him still. by the time you reached his base, his whole body was taut, his hands fisted so tightly into the sheets you thought he might rip them.

“you’re so sensitive,” you murmured, letting your breath ghost over his skin.

“i can’t—” he choked, cutting himself off with a high-pitched moan when your tongue flicked over the soft skin of his balls.

you smiled against him, pressing a kiss to one of the heavy globes before taking it into your mouth, sucking gently. his hips jerked off the bed, but your hand pressed firmly against his stomach, pinning him down.

“stay still,” you ordered.

“i’m trying—fuck, i’m trying,” he babbled, his voice cracking. his head lolled to the side, his lips parted in a silent cry as you continued to suck and lick at him, your tongue tracing slow, wet circles.

your free hand moved back to his cock, wrapping around the shaft and stroking it slowly, your thumb smearing the precum that was steadily leaking from the tip.

“look at me,” you said, your voice softer this time.

his eyes fluttered open, glassy and red-rimmed, his gaze locking onto yours. the sight of you, lips wrapped around him, your hand working him in tandem, had him letting out a desperate, broken sound that went straight to your core.

“you like this?” you asked, pulling back slightly, your hand still stroking him as you kissed along his inner thigh.

“yes,” he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper. “fuck, yes. feels so good.”

“yeah?” you teased, your lips quirking into a smirk as you nipped at his skin. “you’ve been waiting for this? waiting for me to touch you like this?”

he nodded frantically, “always,” he admitted. “always wanted you like this. please don’t stop.”

you purred, letting your tongue glide back up to his base before taking him into your mouth again, this time deeper, letting him feel the heat of your throat. “fuck—oh my god,” he sobbed, his hands twitching at his sides, like he wanted to touch you but didn’t dare.

“go on,” you encouraged, pulling off just enough to speak. “touch me. you’re being good, aren’t you?”

his hands immediately flew to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he let out another choked moan. “yes,” he breathed, “yes, so good, i’ll be so good for you.”

you hollowed your cheeks, bobbing your head slowly, your hand working in time with your movements. his thighs shook beneath you, his breath hitching every time your tongue pressed against the sensitive vein running along the underside of his cock.

“you’re so fucking pretty like this,” you said, pulling back just enough to let your spit-coated hand continue stroking him. “all flushed and crying for me. does it feel that good?”

“so good!” he gasped, tears spilling over again as he bucked his hips involuntarily.

you hummed in approval, your tongue flicking over the tip before dipping lower again, taking one of his balls into your mouth once more. the way his entire body shook beneath you, his voice breaking into desperate little cries—it was everything.

“you’re mine,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his skin. “aren’t you?”

“yours!” he sobbed, his voice cracking. “all yours...”

you pulled back, your lips slick with spit and precum, watching as seungcheol’s chest heaved like he’d just run a marathon. his head was tilted back against the pillows, mouth slightly open, a trail of drool glistening at the corner of his lips. his cock twitched in your hand, still throbbing and leaking like it couldn’t survive a second without you.

“cheol,” you said, your voice sharp enough to cut through the haze.

he didn’t answer. his eyes were half-lidded, rolling back as another pathetic whimper slipped past his lips.

“yah,” you hissed, your free hand moving down to cup his balls, squeezing them just enough to snap him out of it.

he jerked, his hips twitching as a choked cry tore from his throat. his wide, glassy eyes met yours, full of confusion, like he wasn’t sure whether to apologize or beg for more.

“you listening now?” you asked, your tone playful but firm.

“y-yeah,” he stammered.

you smirked, leaning forward just enough to let your breath fan over his cock. “good. now, tell me—do you want me to make you cum like this?” your hand gave his length a slow, deliberate stroke, watching as his eyes fluttered shut again. “or do you want me to ride you?”

his eyes snapped open at the second option, but he still didn’t answer. his mouth opened and closed like he was trying to speak but couldn’t get the words out, and you swore he looked like a little kid trying to pick between candy flavors.

“cheol,” you said again, your grip on his balls tightening just enough to make him yelp. “i’m not giving you both, so choose. now.”

he whimpered, his lower lip trembling as he looked at you like you were some kind of goddess and he didn’t want to disappoint.

“i—i want…” he trailed off, his voice cracking as his cock twitched in your hand again.

“come on,” you urged. “use your words, birthday boy.”

his cheeks flushed deeper, and he swallowed hard before finally stammering out, “i want you to ride me.”

“do you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as your hand gave him one last teasing stroke.

“mhmm,” he breathed, his voice shaky but certain. “please. want to feel you. need to—need to be close to you.”

you smiled, your chest swelling. “good boy,” you murmured, releasing him completely and watching as he whimpered at the cut-off.

you climbed onto the bed, straddling his hips as his hands immediately flew to your thighs, gripping them like he was scared you’d disappear—again. the way his eyes roamed over your body, taking in every inch of exposed skin through the transparency of the robe, and the big slit that have been created as the robe opened up, made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

you reached between your legs, guiding his cock to your entrance, letting the tip tease your folds just enough to have him squirming beneath you.

“mm..fuck” he groaned, his head falling back against the pillows. “you’re so wet. is that—fuck, is that for me?”

“all for you,” you lied, he knew you were mocking him as you slowly sank down onto him.

the stretch was so good, never fails to make you arch your back, his cock filled you so perfectly had your breath hitching. but the sound he made was way down pathetic. it was half moan, half sob, like he couldn’t believe this was real.

“oh my god,” he choked, his hands flying to your waist as his hips jerked involuntarily. “you’re so—so tight. best birthday gift ever.”

you rolled your hips slowly, letting him feel every inch of your gummy walls, and his grip tightened, you can feel his strong fingers marking your meat.

“you like being used like this?”

“yes!” he gasped, his voice high and broken. “love it. love you.”

you froze for half a second, the words catching you off guard, but you quickly recovered, your lips curling into a smirk. “that so?”

“yeah,” he breathed, his eyes squeezing shut as you started to move again. “fuck, i love you. love everything about you.”

every roll of your hips, pulled more sounds from him than you thought possible—moans, gasps, sobs, all spilling from his lips like a declaration.

your hips moved in a steady rhythm, dragging his cock in and out of you in a way that made your thighs burn, but the way seungcheol looked at you—like you were the fucking universe—made it impossible to stop. you clenched around him, squeezing tightly, and his mouth fell open, a strained whimper spilling out as his fingers dug into your hips as you rocked your pussy back and forth.

you pushed his shirt up higher, your eyes falling on his chest, where his nipples were flushed a deep red against his tan skin. his brows furrowed in confusion when he noticed your gaze.

“what?” he asked, his voice hoarse and breathless.

“you don’t even know, do you?” you teased, your nails trailing up his chest. “how red they get when you’re about to cum?”

“what?” he repeated, his tone higher this time, all embarassed.

“oh, baby,” you cooed, leaning down to brush your lips against his. “you’re so fucking cute.”

his face flushed even deeper, and you felt his cock twitch inside you as your hands wrapped around his neck. his eyes widened immediately, his breath hitching as he stared up at you, his lips parted in surprise.

“you like this?” you asked, your grip tightening just enough to make his pulse race beneath your fingers.

he let out a strangled moan, his hands flying up to your thighs like he didn’t know whether to stop you or hold on tighter. “y-yeah,” he stammered, his voice cracking. “fuck, yeah.”

“then be good for me, cum for me, cheol. now.”

his entire body tensed, his hips jerking up. you clenched around him again, your grip on his neck firm as you ground down harder as the first waves of your orgasm hit you.

you raised your hips just in time, letting his cock slip out of you as he spilled all over his stomach, ropes of cum painting his skin. his head fell back against the pillows, his chest heaving as he let out a broken sob, his hands trembling against your thighs.

you collapsed onto his chest, your hand moving between your legs to circle your clit frantically, your moans muffled against his ear as you chased the last remnants of your own orgasm.

“oh my fucking god...” you panted, your fingers working faster as your hips ground against his thigh.

he turned his head slightly, his eyes hazy as he watched you, his lips parted in awe. “you’re…so beautiful...”

you moaned loudly as your orgasm hit you, your body shaking against his as you buried your face in his neck, your hand slowing to a stop.

as the high ebbed away, your body melted into his, your limbs heavy and your breath evening out. you let your full weight settle on him, and he groaned softly, the sound less of discomfort and more of deep, satisfied contentment. his arms came around you instinctively, holding you close, his hands splayed wide against your back like he never wanted to let go.

you lay there, your cheek pressed to his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear. you tried to ignore how your own heart raced, guilt creeping in as you replayed the last week in your head.

sometimes, you really felt like shit about the way you treated him. seungcheol was too good for you, with that big heart of his—always giving, always forgiving. the problem wasn’t him. it was you.

you hoped he couldn’t feel the way your heart thudded against his chest, the weight of your remorse making it beat faster.

you lifted your head slightly, pressing soft kisses to his cheek, your fingers tangling in his hair as you gently scratched at his scalp. he sighed, leaning into your touch like it was the only thing keeping him tethered.

“cheol,” you murmured, your voice softer than you planned. “can i give you one more gift tonight?”

he didn’t answer right away. his eyes drifted to the ceiling, a small, thoughtful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“only one?” he asked after a moment.

you hummed, matching his teasing tone. “yeah. just one. better make it count, birthday boy.”

he chuckled softly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. instead, his gaze stayed fixed on the ceiling, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your back.

“i don’t think you can give me what i really want...” he said finally.

you tilted your head, your brows furrowing. “what do you mean?”

he hesitated before he turned his head to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

“i want to be here with you... but knowing that you… that you actually like me back.”

he held your gaze, his eyes raw and vulnerable, waiting for a response that you didn’t know how to give.

“cheol, you know that right now i—” you started, your voice cracking.

but he shook his head, his lips curving into a small, sad smile. “it’s okay,” he said quickly, though the way his arms tightened around you betrayed his words. “i didn’t mean to ruin the moment. i just… i had to say it.”

you didn’t know what to say. guilt churned in your stomach, your heart pounding against his chest as his words echoed in your head.

he deserved so much more than you could give, and yet here he was, holding you like you were his whole world.

seungcheol let out a shaky breath, his thumb brushing absentmindedly against the curve of your spine. “but since that won’t happen…” he trailed off, his voice wistful.

your chest tightened, the words striking a nerve you weren’t ready to deal with. you stayed silent, pressing your cheek against his shoulder, hoping he couldn’t see the way your brows knitted together.

“can you…” he hesitated, his fingers twitching against your skin. “can you come to my birthday party tonight? i know it’s late, but it’s probably still going. i’d love to see you there.”

you froze. you knew what he was asking—he wanted you to show up for him, to step into his world, even if it made you uncomfortable.

“cheol,” you said slowly, lifting your head to look at him. his expression was expectant.

“please,” he added, whispering in an almost pityful way. “just for a little while. it’s my birthday.”

you bit your lip, glancing away. the idea of walking into a room full of people who probably hated you wasn’t exactly appealing, but the way he looked at you, made it hard to say no.

“fine,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

“really?” he asked, his face lighting up instantly.

“yeah, really,” you said, rolling your eyes.

he sat up, pulling you with him.

you groaned, pushing against his chest. “ugh, fine. let me get ready, then.”

he followed you into the bathroom like a puppy, leaning against the doorway as you washed your face and fixed your hair. his gaze was soft, trailing over you like he was memorizing every detail.

“stop staring,” you said, your tone sharp but lacking any real bite.

“can’t help it,” he replied, his voice warm. “you’re gorgeous.”

you rolled your eyes again, but your cheeks flushed anyway, and you hated how easily he got to you.

“you should get ready too,” you said, pointing at him with a toothbrush in hand.

“i’m fine like this,” he said with a shrug, gesturing to his wrinkled shirt and jeans.

“you’re not showing up to your own party looking like you just got laid,” you shot back, smirking when his ears turned red.

“fine,” he grumbled, shuffling off.

by the time you were both dressed and ready, the nerves in your stomach were in full swing. seungcheol, however, looked ridiculously pleased with himself, his hand finding yours as he led you toward the door.

seungcheol practically vibrated with happiness as he led you up to the front door of his house. he tried so damn hard to play it cool, to keep his steps measured and his grin from stretching too wide. but his chest felt like it might burst at any moment, the thought of walking in with you by his side enough to make him wanna jump like some kind of elf in a fairytale.

this was it. you were here. about to meet his family, his friends. his whole world.

he took a deep breath and opened the door, immediately met with a chorus of voices.

“finally!” jeonghan shouted, throwing his arms up like he’d been waiting for years.

“where the hell have you been?” his brother added exasperatedly.

seungcheol pressed his lips together, holding back a smile as he glanced over his shoulder at you. “i, uh…” he rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down for a second before looking back up, his voice soft but proud. “i needed to bring someone special before the ‘happy birthday.’”

the room fell silent as you stepped out from behind him, your hands clutching the straps of your bag like a lifeline. your small, tentative smile was enough to stop everyone in their tracks.

you shifted awkwardly under the weight of their stares, the sound of the music thumping softly in the background the only thing filling the silence.

and that’s when it hit them.

oh.

this was the reason seungcheol had been acting so out of character, the reason he’d been spiraling for months. you weren’t just some girl he was into. no, you were a fucking vision. gorgeous in a way that made the room seem brighter. mesmerizing without even trying.

now they understood. now it all made sense.

of course he was crazy over you. of course he’d been spiraling. who wouldn’t be?

but the realization also came with a quieter, more awkward truth: this was the girl they’d all cursed out in private. the girl they’d ranted about after every drunken night where seungcheol had cried into his beer or disappeared to avoid them.

they exchanged quick glances. yeah, they got it now, but it didn’t erase the fact that they’d judged you before even meeting you.

a nagging question none of them dared to voice but couldn’t shake.

were you really worth it?

jeonghan, the one who never held his tongue, raised a brow and smirked. “well, shit. now i get it.”

seungcheol’s face flushed a deep red, his hand instinctively finding the small of your back as if to shield you from the inevitable onslaught of teasing.

but instead of cracking a joke, jeonghan just smiled and nodded, his eyes softening. “welcome,” he said, his voice genuine.

the others slowly followed suit, their smiles tentative but warm as they tried to mask their lingering curiosity.

and as seungcheol led you further into the house, his hand never leaving your back, he felt like he’d just won the lottery. because for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t walking into this house feeling defeated or embarrassed.

this time, he was walking in with you.

© 2024 Hoshi Fighting | All Rights Reserved

[hyunjiisa]

hey pretty boy !

skz ! members and what type of loner they’d be

incl. ot8 !

chan as the stoner! loner

shows up to school smelling like weed but no one cares because he does all his work and never causes trouble

you make eye contact with him for the first time in the parking lot while he’s smoking, he falls in love when you smile and wave

turns down everyone that hits on him after that

when he finally musters up the courage to talk to you all he can do is tap your shoulder in the same parking lot he first saw you and ask if you smoke

no matter your answer, he asks to get to know you better

“ come on , give me a chance ? ”

follows you around like a bodyguard after that

never ever lets you carry your own bag and always makes sure you have something to eat for lunch whether he has to pay for you or not

pretty smart in most subjects so you have study dates often because he just likes your presence

won’t smoke around you if you don’t like it

never posts anything besides you and aesthetic pictures he takes

isn’t the type to fight but he will if someone disrespects you, but they back off because of his size before it gets to that point

hyunjin as the artsy! loner

has one black pen and one red pen that he abuses every day

pays attention for the most part but occasionally gets distracted doodling in his notebooks

def has drawings all over his hands

the first time he noticed you was in art class and he thought you were so pretty he started drawing you

you glance over and he’s mortified when he realizes he probably looks like a creep

too nervous to go up to you and explain so he leaves you a note with little drawings all over (plus the drawing of you) and a replacement of the pink gel pen he notices you using all the time

gets super nervous when he sees you walking up to him the next day

you ask him to partner up for a project and thank him for the drawing

“ i couldn’t help it , you’re just so pretty . ”

ends up kissing you at your last project session

asks you out with the most thoughtful basket filled with things you like and a letter with another drawing of you and almost cries when you don’t answer right away

does everything for you after you get together

the art teacher is yalls biggest fan

has no one else to cling to so he’s all over you 24/7

gives nasty glares to men who simply look at you

felix as the fashion design! loner

like hyunjin, spends most of his time sketching out designs in his scrap book where he keeps all his miniature fabric samples in

sulks because there’s no fashion club for him to join

is initially drawn to you because of an outfit you wore that he loves

eventually asks where you got your top when you wear it again and his heartstrings pull at the way you answer so sweetly and compliment his hair

after that the two of you gradually got closer and closer

you help him learn to sew and he starts planning marriage then and there (he wants to help design your wedding dress)

sews matching patches on your backpacks

you catch him texting his best friend that lives abroad about you

gets so nervous he cries

you tell him you feel the same way and he cries even harder

“ be mine ? please ? ”

just gets even clingier once you end up together

loves kissing you and laying together while he sketches

takes you out whenever you want and spoils you rotten because he has rich parents

matching outfits = fire insta pics

jeongin as the sour patch! loner

never talks to anyone so everyone thinks he’s mean but he’s really an angel

your elective teacher makes your class do a secret santa and he gets you

he gives you oddly specific gifts (he has a massive crush on you and overhears you telling your friends your wishlist) and includes a note sweet talking you

you go up to him and thank him with a kiss on the cheek and he turns red

he asks you to hang out and pays for brunch and the cutest pottery painting date

“ will you go out with me ? n-not like that ! ”

gets the teacher to move you two to sit next to each other

everyone’s a little surprised when they see how he’s so gentle with you

decides he needs to get over himself and ask you out and gets you a pandora charm bracelet and a pretty bouquet of flowers

pampers you with your favorite snacks or meals randomly, refills of makeup you use, randomly does your homework for you

flips off ur exes and flexes on them when you aren’t looking then turns around to kiss you

is at your house 24/7 because he can’t breathe without you but is supportive when you go out with your friends or need a solo day

loves going to the beach with you and carrying you so your feet don’t get sandy

jisung as the nerdy! loner

has good grades and the teachers remember his name because his work is always on time

eats alone in the library because he has no one to sit with

you walk in on him while picking up a book you need and he’s super embarrassed (he’s had a crush on you since middle school)

you ask to sit with him because you think he’s cute and he trips over his words answering you

you spend lunch with him every day after that and he starts packing a lunch for you too

accidentally confesses he has a fat crush on you when you ask if he has a girlfriend

he starts rambling after and shuts up when he notices you’re giggling at him

you kiss him and he swears his lifelong dream has come true

“ i like , really like you . ”

is the sweetest boyfriend ever

does all your homework for you and insists it’s really no problem

drives you to and from school every day because “that’s what boyfriends are for”

never looks at anyone but you and writes down threats and shoves them in guys lockers when they hit on you

minho as the gym! loner

purposefully gets his free period after his weightlifting class so he can spend two periods working out

isn’t really shy, just doesn’t like anyone enough to have friends

girls check him out occasionally but he always ignores them

catches you freaking out when you have no clothes to change in and offers you his shirt because he thinks you’re cute

uses that as an excuse to mess with you

“ if i can bench you , you owe me a date ”

spoiler, he can.

makes sure to tell you you don’t really owe him anything and he’s just messing with you

you agree to the date and he picks you up and takes you on a surprisingly thoughtful date

drive around town, food and watching the sunset, takes your pictures next to pretty flowers and keeps his arm around you the whole time

asks you if you really have to go when he’s dropping you off

walks you to your door and gives you a hug (he’s never dated anyone and too scared to kiss you)

texts you that he had a really good time and he would “work to make you his”

it doesn’t take much work and he kisses you right after he asks you to be his

is way too proud of his build and wears sleeveless shirts just to scare anyone that looks at you

carries you around any chance he gets

seungmin as the music lover! loner

walks around with his headphones in 24/7

hums to himself quietly while he studies

you ask him about a song he was humming and he’s surprised you were talking to him

you think he hates you till he smiles at you when you walk into class

makes you a playlist to make his move on you

doesn’t know how to tell you he likes you at all so he just kinda teases you to flirt with you

takes you to a record store at lunch because he wanted to show you the spot

stares at you a little too hard so you ask him if he wants a kiss as a joke

says yes and moves your hair out of your face, you guys have a make out sesh and only stop when the owner clears his throat awkwardly at the both of you

“ so , if i ask you to be mine what are the chances of you saying yes ? ”

you make him go back inside alone and buy you the vinyl you want

he comes back out with it and 5 more that you didn’t wanna ask for but knows you wanted anyway

you skip the rest of the day and go to his house and use his record player

you fall asleep on him and he takes 0.5s of you

shares his headphones with you, but doesn’t share his food (until you make a sad face at him and he gives in instantly. works every time.)

changbin as the sweetheart! loner

all of his professors adore him, all the school staff does at this point

has the maximum hours of community service that he can have but won’t stop helping around where he can

notices you from the start because he thinks you’re pretty, but really starts liking you when he sees you volunteer at an elementary school

accidentally scares you coming up behind you when you’re hanging a banner

you guys start helping at the same places and make a tradition of hanging up banners together

after a while he figures he might as well just tell you how he feels, is elated when you hug him and tell him the feelings mutual

“ oh thank god . ”

confesses that he was actually really nervous and gets flustered when you tease him about it because he thinks you’re the prettiest

when you ask why he never hangs out with anyone he says he doesn’t like people with unpure hearts and that’s why he loves you so much

definitely takes you out and buys you guys matching stuff

married couple

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

a/n: i’m not pushing any of these narratives onto them, it’s just dif scenarios i wanted to write them in ᡣ𐭩

[keikikait]

can you do something really angsty for rafe please. like one where they might not end up together:(

ᴅʀᴜɴᴋ ᴡᴀʟᴋ ʜᴏᴍᴇ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

pairing: rafe cameron x kook!f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20s)

word count: 4.8k

summary: from the corner, at the party, you watch him

warnings: ANGST!!!!, pining/whipped reader, rafe & reader are friends, kook!reader & kook!rafe, drinking, not proofread

a note: yeah....yeah....

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

He’s never looked more beautiful. 

You bring the red solo cup to your lips, eye twitching and throat burning as you take a sip. It was foul, cheap vodka mixed with melted skittles, but it was getting you drunk, and that’s all that mattered. You felt like a creep, sitting in the corner of Barry’s living room, practically eye fucking Rafe as he stands in the kitchen, but you couldn’t help it. Your eyes naturally went to his figure, tracing the expanses of his toned arms. 

You wanted him.

You always have.

From the second you met him in elementary school, when you were around 6 years old, you’ve had a crush on Rafe. You remember that day like it was yesterday. You had just gotten new shoes that had laces instead of Velcro, and even though your mom had tied them for you in the morning, you were struggling to tie them yourself after they had come undone. Rafe had spotted you in the courtyard and expertly tied them himself before sticking his hand out towards you to shake, announcing his presence with the upmost confidence. Ward had been raising him to be a businessman, after all.

You fell for him immediately, and you fell hard. As your friendship grew, so did your feelings towards him. You had just moved to Kildare, and your parents had exclaimed that you would be best friends forever when you discovered that you were actually his next door neighbour. Through the trees you could just make out his bedroom window, and if he tried hard enough, he could see right into yours too. You spent the rest of your days wanting, needing, dying for him, hoping one day he would pick you over whatever girl of the week he was seeing. You wondered what it was like to be chosen. You were never chosen by Rafe. You were a maybe, a probably, sometimes even definitely, but never his first choice. 

You remember when he got his first actual girlfriend, April. You were 13, already head over heels in love with him, and were absolutely devastated when he sent you that text. You cried so hard you nearly threw up, yet your reply to him was a simple ‘Congrats!’. You knew that he didn’t like you back then, and that showing any type of jealousy would just drive a further wedge between you. He was already starting to pull away. He was dealing with so much at home that he was taking it out on everyone else at school, constantly screaming and yelling and throwing things. He needed the attention he wasn’t getting, and it seemed that the attention you were giving him wasn’t enough.

At 15, he got a new girlfriend, Lillian. They weren’t serious like how he was with April, but this was the first girl he had in a while that actually stuck around. Lillian didn’t like you, and you didn’t like her. She was, quite ironically, jealous, and was constantly reading your texts with Rafe. She purposely excluded you from parties and hangouts, doing everything in her power to get you away from Rafe. They only lasted seven months before Rafe dropped her, saying: ‘I’ve known her for a few months. I’ve known you my whole life. It’s a pretty easy choice.’

He didn’t get another girlfriend until he was 17, bordering on 18, when he met Jacquelyn. The daughter of one of Ward’s business partners, they were essentially a PR relationship, only hugging and holding hands during fancy black tie events. Jacquelyn was nice to you, nice enough, although you always had a feeling that she knew you loved Rafe. 

And it was hard not to love him. You had tried so many times over the years to just get a grip and move on, but something about him was so alluring. You had watched him grow, blossom into the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life, and it was hard not to fall for him. You had tried to gaslight yourself a few times into believing you were truly over him, climbed out of the hole you were stuck in, but the next time you hugged, and you got to bury your face into his chest, you fell right back down. He was the moon in your universe, and you were barely even a star.

Just as you had seen Rafe blossom, you had seen him shrivel up. Watching him get into drugs, alcohol, and violence was heart-wrenching, but he never listened to you. He said you didn’t get it, and you didn’t understand him, but when things got too much for him, or he got too drunk, he would always turn up on your porch, your favourite candy in hand as a figurative olive branch. And you accepted it every time, eagerly opening your arms to welcome him, revelling in the feeling of his whispered apologies in your ear. 

You were always the one he went to.

Until he met Sofia.

You didn’t want to hate Sofia, but you couldn’t help it. She had everything you wanted, and she was everything you wanted to be. She had Rafe, and she was Rafe’s. After Rafe heard of Ward’s death, Sofia is the one he went to, not you. You didn’t see him until weeks later at The Island Club, and as you tried to give him your condolences, she whisked him away. He left the room as quickly as he entered it, leaving only a waft of his cologne and a pit in your stomach in his wake.

She stole him away from you, constantly hanging on his arm and dragging away during parties. He never responded to you anymore, too busy spending time with her, taking her to some stupid boutique on the mainland or going with her to the beach when the UV was too high to resist. Did he rub sunscreen on her back? Did his hands ever slip under the bikini straps as he caressed her skin, did his hands ever wander around the front and slip underneath the cups?

Did you even want to know?

You had grown apart these last few months. You rarely saw him, even out on Kildare, and your conversations were few and far between. Even then, your feelings for him never faded. You would sit on the chair by your window, staring out towards his, wondering if just maybe you would catch a glimpse of him walking by. You felt, for lack of a better word, hollow without him. Rafe was one of your best friends, and after spending years together attached at the hip, you were suddenly missing your other half. It felt like a breakup, except you were never together in the first place. You were grieving a relationship that never even happened. 

You advert your eyes from Rafe, realising you’ve been staring for a bit, and go to take another sip, only to find your cup empty. You sigh, chewing on the inside of your lip as you look back up at the kitchen. His arm is slung around Sofia’s neck, his fingers absentmindedly rubbing at her collarbones as she leans against his chest, a smug look on her stupid pretty face as she sips on her hard seltzer.

You look back at the cup again. You needed more alcohol if you were going to stay sane at this party. You stand up, placing the pillow that was once in your lap on the chair before moving across the room towards the kitchen, manoeuvring through drunk Kooks and groping couples until you reached the linoleum.

‘It’s an open bar,’ Barry said, ‘Take whatever.’ so you didn’t feel weird about immediately digging through his liquor cabinet, pulling out the giant bottle of Everclear from the bottom shelf. You had only ever had Everclear one other time, and all you remember of the night was waking up face first in the sand with seaweed in your hair. You had promised yourself never again, but this night was different. You wanted to stay at this party and be with your friends, but you couldn’t bear to look at Rafe and Sofia sober.

Rafe’s thumb moves up to caress Sofia’s jaw as he watches you set the Everclear down on the kitchen counter. “Damn, already?”

Oh, shit. Was he talking to you? You look over, pursing your lips together. “Uh, yeah. Why not live a little, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I guess…” He mutters, dragging his thumb down Sofia’s neck. “You know that stuff is hella strong, right?”

Did he not remember that night? “I’m just gonna take one shot, dude.”

“Well, one shot can turn into two, then into four, then…” He trails off. “You know how you are after a few shots.”

You unscrew the Everclear and pour some into your solo cup. Your hands are shaking from the vodka you had before, and you dump in more than you had initially planned on. You screw the cap back on and slip it into the cabinet again before opening the fridge to grab a mixer. “I got it.”

He watches you pour, eyebrows raising when he sees the amount that flows into your cup, but he says nothing, simply continuing to caress the skin of Sofia’s jaw with his thumb. “Mhm, okay.”

Sofia looks between the two of you, sipping on her drink before speaking up, “You never drink like this.”

You don’t even fucking know me, you want to say, but you don’t. You shrug as you open a can of Cherry Coke and dump it into the solo cup before crushing it and tossing it into the recycling bin on the edge of the kitchen. “Just wanna try something new.”

“You could do that with literally anything. Everclear is not a good start,” He sighs, looking down at you. “One shot of that stuff will have you on your ass within the hour.”

You swirl the drink in your cup and shrug again as you leave the kitchen to go back to your spot. “We’ll see.” You glance at Rafe over your shoulder as you take a sip, moving back through the crowd.

It tasted disgusting. You felt the liquor burn all the way down to your stomach, your eyes watering slightly as you hold back a cough, but you keep drinking. You wanted to forget. You wanted to be drunk enough to not care about Rafe and Sofia. You sat back down without a word, grabbing the pillow you had left on the chair and putting it back on your lap. You watched the party from the corner, hesitating as you lift the cup to your lips and take another sip.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The party gets too hot too quickly.

November was one of the cooler months in the Outer Banks and although the patio door was wide open, you were starting to sweat. The alcohol, mixed with your bubbling anxiety as you watched Rafe and Sofia, was causing you to start to squirm uncomfortably in your seat.

You hadn’t even finished your drink when you head outside, pushing through the crowd bottlenecked at the door, breathing a sigh of relief when you reach the pool area. Your shoulders droop as you start to relax, your skin starting to cool down. The loungers and seats are full, but the pool is empty, even though Barry had been promising everyone it was heated. There were a few Kooks sitting on the edge of the hot tub, their feet in the water, beer cans littering the surrounding ground.

You look around, biting the inside of your lip. You start to move, looking around the expansive backyard before finding a small concrete bench pressed up against an old out of use fountain full of leaves and dried algae. You brush some of the leaves off and sit down, a small noise escaping your mouth at how fucking cold it is. You zip up your jacket, sitting cross-legged as you try to get as comfortable as possible. 

You continue to people watch, taking some brief moments to look up at the stars.

It’s peaceful, and you’re grateful for the silence. The sound from the house is still audible, but it’s muffled enough from being out in the yard. You watch the Kooks in the hot tub, noticing a couple of them starting to kiss.

You were grateful to be out of there.

You were grateful not to be looking at Rafe and Sofia. You couldn’t stop your mind from wandering back to the kitchen. Rafe’s hands on Sofia’s hips. Him burying his nose in her hair. The soft kisses they exchanged every time they thought you weren’t looking. It made your stomach turn.

You look up at the clear night sky, shivering as a breeze passes, brushing the stray hairs that escaped your low bun away from your face. You could see Orion, you could see the moon, you could even see some stars you didn’t know the name of. They manage to distract you for a long time, so long that you don’t even remember how long you’ve been sitting there.

You feel something heavy being placed on your shoulders, the weight startling you. You turn around, ready to snap at whoever had disturbed your solitude, but you're met by Rafe. He's wearing only a t-shirt, his own jacket in his hands. “Couldn't let you freeze to death sitting out here alone.”

“I have a jacket,” You say. It’s true, your jacket was keeping you warm, and a large part of you felt bad that Rafe was trying to give his up. “Keep yours.” As you stop dissociating, your fingers and toes suddenly feel stiff. You move the cup to your other hand, clenching and stretching your fingers.

He ignores your protest, draping his jacket over your shoulders anyway, even going as far as to zip it up under your chin. “No arguments. You looked like a baby deer sitting here shivering.”

His cologne smells so good. It smells like home. “Thanks.” Your eyes follow him as he sits next to you on the bench, beer bottle in hand.

“No problem,” Rafe looks out, his knee brushing your leg as he turns to check out the backyard, eyes scanning the Kooks in the hot tub as he takes a sip of his beer. After a moment, he turns back to you, eyebrows furrowing as he notices your drink. “You didn’t finish that.” he nods towards the cup in your hand.

“No, it’s uh…” You clear your throat and sit up straight. “It’s disgusting. Guess Everclear and Cherry Coke don’t mix.”

He snickers, “Told you so,” He takes another sip of his beer, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he looks at you. “You shouldn’t drink that stuff anyway. I’ve seen people go down quick after only one shot. Not pretty.”

“Eh. Wanted to try something new.” You say, swirling it around in the cup.

“Yeah, well, don’t go drinking Everclear again. I’m not gonna hold your hair back while you’re puking,” He gives you another once over, eyes lingering on your face. “You don’t look very good.”

You weren’t doing good. Not at all. You were trying to live your life without Rafe around, even just as a friend, and it was proving to be a very difficult task. It was so hard to not immediately rush to text him, or to send him a million TikToks throughout the day. You missed him, as much as it pained you to admit. You shrug. “Just kinda tired. Didn’t sleep well.”

He notices the change in your demeanour instantly, the walls that he was so used to seeing come down were up now. You were shutting him out. “You gotta stop staying up late on your phone, then.” he elbows you playfully, hoping to get you to laugh, like old times.

You don’t.

You awkwardly look back down at your drink and swirl it again. You had thought that maybe this unwelcomed distance would do you good, and you would eventually fall out of love with him, but it seems to get harder and harder every day. You just wanted to hold him one last time. You needed him back then, and you needed him still. You let out a breath. “Yeah. Probably.”

He stays silent, taking another sip from his beer as he looks back out to the yard. There was a tension in the air now, but he wasn’t sure if it was all in his head. You seemed…distant. Shut off. He was so used to your bright personality, your happy demeanour, your laugh. Now, you were just…blank. His knee bumps yours again as he shifts. He looked back over at you, watching you for a long time. You were just staring straight, avoiding his gaze.

You clear your throat again, setting your cup down beside you. You unzip his jacket and stand up as you slide it off, trying to avoid his gaze as you drape it over his shoulders. “I’m gonna head back inside.”

Rafe catches your wrist as you start to move away, fingers gentle, but firm, almost reluctant to let you go. His eyes meet yours immediately, holding your gaze captive as he looks at you. “Wait.”

“What?” You ask, picking your drink back up with your free hand.

“We…” he trails off, his thumb rubbing the sensitive skin of your inner wrist as he looks at you. It was cold outside, but your skin was so warm against his. It felt so natural. Like everything was right again. He didn’t ever realise how much he had missed you until now. “We need to talk.”

You try to pull your wrist away. “About what?”

He lets the grasp on your wrist loosen, but he doesn’t let go, his touch trailing down until his fingers are laced with yours. “About this…distance…” he motions vaguely between you two, “That you’ve been building for the past couple of months.”

“That I’ve been building?” You ask, your eyebrows raising. “You’re the one who’s been ignoring me.”

“Not on purpose. I’ve been busy.” he says defensively, almost immediately. He’d be lying if he didn’t say that he had been busy lately. Sofia had been keeping him on his toes lately, and he hadn’t had much time alone during the day, let alone time alone in his own home. But he also couldn’t deny that he had been purposefully avoiding you, knowing that if he spent too much time with you, Sofia would have something to say about it.

“Maybe I’ve been busy too.” You say, although it’s a lie. 

Rafe snorts, almost calling you out on the lie, but he lets it go with a sigh. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, just looking at you. His thumb rubs slow circles on the inside of your palm, the touch familiar. It hurt his chest. “I don’t like this.”

“Don’t like what?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

“This,” He gestures between you and him. “This distance. I don’t like it,” He looks away, a frustrated expression on his face. “We’re friends. We’ve known each other for years. Why do you act like I can’t even approach you anymore?”

Friends. You never hated a word more. You take a step back, sighing as you glance out over the pool again. “Sometimes friends drift apart, Rafe.”

He looks at you, his jaw clenched as he watches you avoid his gaze once again. You wouldn’t even look at him. It was infuriating. He couldn’t believe that you were so nonchalant about all of this. Friends drift apart. That’s what you said. Did he have to mean so little? His hand falls back to his side, but the expression on his face stays fixed. “Bullshit.”

“You’re busy, I’m busy,” You say. “Sometimes that happens.”

“I’m only busy with Sofia,” He snaps, frustration seeping through in his voice. He takes a step towards you, eyes narrowed. “And even when I’m busy with her, I still manage to find time-” He stops himself, taking a moment to slow his breathing. He was getting too worked up. The last thing he needed right now was to blow up at you.

You chug the rest of your drink and set the empty solo cup on the bench, immediately regretting it. You should’ve dumped it out a while ago. The last thing you needed was a drunk walk home. “We’ve both been busy. That’s it, Rafe.”

“That’s it?” He repeats, looking at you incredulously. He couldn’t believe you were so blasé about this. About you guys practically ignoring each other, never talking, practically avoiding each other every chance you got. Was it so simple to you? To forget years of friendship over something so idiotic like being busy? “You’re bullshitting me.”

You hated this feeling. Your heart ached, and your hands went numb, your body full of tingles. You take a few more steps back. You had to do it, you had to rip the band-aid off if you wanted to finally move on. You didn’t want your happiness to live and die with him. “Maybe this friendship thing isn’t working anymore.”

It felt like you had stabbed him straight in the chest, twisted the blade, and then pulled it out slowly, painfully. Every word that you spat out felt like another layer of pain. It was bullshit. You had been by his side through everything. You were always there. He trusted you more than anyone. And this was how you felt now? You didn’t want to be friends? Rafe clenched his jaw, biting back the sting of emotion. “You’re not serious.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Rafe.” You say.

“I want you to tell me that you still give a damn about our friendship!” he says, a frustrated tone in his voice.  “I want you to tell me that this distance is bullshit and that I still mean something to you! That you still want to hang out and talk and everything else I thought we’d still be doing when we got older, and that I’m just reading into this too much! I want you to tell me that you’re just busy, and it’ll all get better in a little bit, because I can’t handle this anymore.”

“Rafe--” You try to speak, but he cuts you off.

He was getting more worked up now, his chest heaving as he stares at you. He had never felt like this before. You always knew how to calm him down from whatever fit he was throwing, but you weren’t doing that now. He takes a step closer, getting into your personal space now, anger evident in his eyes. “Do you even care about me anymore, or are you just pretending you do whenever I’m around? Do you hate me now?”

You would probably still adore him with his hands around your neck. “No, of course I don’t hate you.”

“Then why are you doing this to me?” He demands, his tone a mix of anger and desperation. He was getting louder, but he didn’t care. For once, he wanted to let his emotions out, knowing that they would be safe with you. “Why are you acting like this?” He gestures between you, “You’re shutting me out, and you’re pulling away, and you can’t even look me in the eye without flinching. Why? Tell me why.”

“Because I like you, Rafe!” You blurt out. Your eyes widen slightly when you realise what you said. You let out a shaky breath. “I like you a lot. More than I should. And seeing you with her, with Sofia… it’s so hard for me.”

He stares at you for a moment, stunned into silence by your confession. 

You liked him.

A lot?

More than you should.

His jaw clenched, his mind trying to process everything as he sits back down. He had suspected that you liked him more than a friend for a long time, but he had never dared to try and confirm it. The words were out in the open now, though. And it changed everything.

You hate how silent he’s being. Your voice is shaky when you start to speak again, “And I know that you don’t feel the same way about me. I know that, and I’m okay with that.”

He lets out an almost bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. The sound is harsh in the air, like a slap in the face. “That’s what you think? You think I don’t have feelings for you?” His voice was quiet, but there was something in it that made it even more threatening than if he was yelling.

“I know you don’t.” You say softly, tears starting to well in your eyes. You weren’t stupid. You knew from day dot that he would never feel the same way that you do, and you always knew that he would never be yours, but it was never enough to help you finally move on. 

For the first time in Rafe’s life, he struggles with what to say. It takes him a few seconds to find the words he's looking for. “Jesus Christ, are you kidding me? We’re not romantic or anything, we’re just friends.”

“I know that.” You say.

“We’re just friends.” He says again, as if you didn’t hear him the first time.

Your stomach hurts. “I know.”

He looks away from you, standing up from the bench. “How long have you liked me?”

“Since the day we met,” You say. “When you tied my shoe for me.”

He runs his hand through his hair again. “And you never said anything.” It’s a statement, not a question, and it stings.

“There was no point,” You say. “I knew even back then that you would never feel the same way.”

He doesn’t know what to do. You’re right, he doesn’t feel the same way. He doesn’t like you the way you like him. At least he thinks he doesn’t. He stays quiet, his fists clenching.

“I don’t want to ignore you, Rafe,” You continue. “But maybe this distance will be good for us. I’ll be able to get over you.”

“You shouldn’t have fallen for me in the first place.” He snaps.

It takes you by surprise. Your eyes flutter for a second as tears start to fall, and you take a step back, chest clenching.

He stares at you, his stomach lurching as the first of the tears roll down your face. He stays silent for a moment, before finally sighing. “It’s not supposed to be this way,” He walks towards you again, reaching out to take both of your hands, trying to stop you from backing away from him. “You’re supposed to be my best friend, not some girl in love with me.”

“I’m sorry.” You say.

“Stop apologising,” He says, holding your wrists tightly, like he’s trying to keep you in place. “I hate it when you do that.”

You almost apologise again. You just nod, looking down at your feet before moving your gaze back over to the pool. No one has noticed you two yet.

He follows your gaze, looking towards the pool. No one had even spared a glance in your direction. It was just you and him, secluded in the quiet corner, surrounded by a party that seemed a mile away. He doesn’t know what to say, or how to react to your confession. All he knows is that he still hates seeing you cry.

“Do you still want to be friends?” You ask quietly, looking up at him.

Rafe hesitates. 

His first instinct is to push you away. To tell you that it would be best if you two just never spoke to each other again, that things would be better that way. But he knew he didn’t mean that. And when he looked down at you, seeing the heartbreak on your face, he knew he couldn’t say it. He wasn’t the best at expressing his feelings, and he had no idea what he was doing, but you were his oldest friend. You had been by his side through everything. There was no way he was pushing you away that easily.

He pulls you into a hug, pressing his nose into the crown of your head. “Of course, I still want to be friends,” he murmurs. “You’re my best friend, you idiot.”

You hug him back, and it feels so good to finally hold him again. You interlock your fingers behind his back. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” he mutters, resting his chin on the top of your head. “Stop apologising.” He stays silent for a moment, soaking in the feeling of being able to hold you again. He had missed this. He had missed you more than he had ever realised.

You stay there for a while, nose buried in his chest, before you speak again. Your voice is quiet, muffled against his jacket, but he can hear you loud and clear. “I love you.”

Rafe sighs, pushing your hair away from your forehead before placing a kiss on it. “It’ll pass.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

part two?

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[toscapringle]

I feel like Killing The Cop In Your Head is a gateway/slippery slope towards child neglect. I'm gonna look at this through the lens of younger kids, but it applies to teenagers too. Kids need structure, such as routines and norms. Our own society has rules and norms to keep us happy, like drive on the designated side of the road and wait at the stoplight. Rules in our games so you dont get cheated on unfairly and people don't get hurt.

Kids need to be told "don't do that or you will get hurt" cause they genuinely don't realize they will get hurt/hurt someone else. You can see the genuine surprise and remorse on their face when these things happen. In the same way you can get physically hurt, you can also get emotionally hurt/emotionally hurt others.

I get the above situation, mind ya damn buisness and all. In that situation, kids will be kids and they're just having fun. But if there's a sign that says "no skateboarding" what are the potential consequences they might face for skateboarding in that area? Is it just angry mall tycoon pissed that his stairs don't look perfect? Or is it more serious? Are they old enough to deal with those consequences? Are they fair? (Is letting a 12 year old make the decision to drop off a huge drop without any protective gear, and the only guidance in that decision is from his/her same age peers ethical? Hell no, they could injure themself for the rest of their life. What about legal ramifications, if a cop sees them are they gonna be dealt with inappropriately? Better you say something than cops see it. Better to let their parents know and have them go home safely than have them be brought to the station, if you believe your local cops are unethical.)

You don't have to prove your political views as more progressive than your friends for clout by not teaching your kids how to be safe and just letting them learn from consequences that are way too serious. When they don't know how to deal with a situation, lend them your brain so they can learn how to think more critically.

Tldr; Sometimes rules are a suggestion written in blood. We have a duty to look out for those who can't factor in how serious their actions are yet.

a big part of Killing The Cop In Your Head that even a lot of ostensibly progressive adults absolutely do not want to do is controlling the urge to judge children at every opportunity. like oh are some kids hanging out skateboarding in the No Skateboarding Zone at the park? it becomes your business if one runs over your foot. otherwise shut the fuck up. and not just outwardly, you need to tell the critical voice in your head "actually this harmless moment of someone else's everyday life has nothing to do with me and no one has asked for my opinion"

[docdudo]

Hybrid 141 As Parents - Foster Human Child!Reader (Part 8)

It's not that you didn't like Johnny. He was just as nice as all the others, more charismatic than Price and Ghost, that's for sure. He was gentle with you, and that's nice, very nice... but goddamnit, was he lively.

You had werewolf classmates before, of course you did, and to be honest? They were all the same. Too much energy, too much movement, just... too much. Your only saving grace was that none of them were friends with you, so you didn't deal with their energy directly most of the time.

But now, one of your foster parents is a werewolf.

And... you are not really too excited about that. You follow along the path with him, watching his wagging bushy tail, sharp smile and light gym clothes like he barely feel the cold weather, and... you try to get used to this.

Used to him.

"Aye, and this is our shed!" Johnny smiles, pointing at the the big shed by the side of the house. The wooden door, differently to the doors inside the house, had a high handle and a big lock, making you look at it a bit questionably as Johnny chuckles a little. "Yeah, lass, ye can't go inside the shed alone. Too many dangerous tools."

You nod slightly, not really interested in the shed in the first place. There were houses you have stayed in that wouldn't let you go inside any room besides your bedroom, the bathroom and the living room. You were used to these kind of rules.

"Ye sure you don't wanna play tag, pup?" Johnny asks as he turns to you, clearly excited as his tail wags hard and ears perk up. "It's healthy to exercise! Ah'm sure ye'll like it, aye??"

You don't really answer verbally, but just your conflited expression was enough to make him sigh a little with a smile still on his face.

"'Kay, 'kay, ah get it." He shakes his head slightly, tail calming down a little on all the wagging. "I'll try to follow Kyle's advice." Then, he cups his mouth lightly with his hand, like he's telling a secret, as he whisper-shouts to you. "Lad's the smartest of the bunch, he knows what he's talkin' about!"

You nod slightly at that, a small smile coming to your face. He has a bit of a funny personality.

Just your small, shy smile was enough for him to bite down on his lower lip as he tried to control the deep croon he wanted to let out. God... he wanted to just pick you up and carry you forever. He really thought he wouldn't have a more delicate baby then when his harpy babies were born, but oh God, was he wrong....

You just look soooooo... damn small, and cute, and fragile. You don't move much, you don't look particularly energetic and you are bundled up cutely with layers of warm clothing as you look up at his face with big eyes.

So defenseless. How did humans defend themselves in this world??

He couldn't let you get hurt, ever. You are his resposibility now. His and his pack's responsibility.

And, oh God, were you shivering? You seemed to have curled up a little, was it too cold despite their efforts??

How easily did a human get sick??

He's warm. He's very warm. He could warm you up right away. You got so warm when he curled up with you on the nest, he could do it again...

"I-is everything okay...?" Your little meek voice snapped him out of his instincts for a second, eyes widening as he clears his throat slightly.

"Aye, aye, perfectly fine, wee lass. Come 'ere."

Even tho he told you to come to him, he was the one to come to you and kneel down in front of your small form, big hands coming to your jacket to gently adjust on your body firmly, a focused expression on his face as he checks all your others piece of clothing.

"Is it too cold out 'ere, lassie?" He coos quietly, a small pout coming to his lips naturally. It looked like he was talking to a toddler, and it made you blush a little in embarrassement.

"I-It's fine..." You mumble back, unsure. Yeah, sure, it was a bit cold, but nothing you couldn't take, especially with your new clothes.

He didn't seem very convencied, and quickly, he picked you up on his arms, easily taking you to his chest. You were not that surprised anymore, even if just a little startled, but at least he felt warm...

"Ye see, wee lass... we live a bit farther than the other houses, aye?" He asks as he turns to look back at the rest of the land, a lot of grass in a big, big plot, surrounded by a forest. There was a street not that far from there taking to the rest of the city. "We like lots of space, so our plot comes from all the way from the back of our house to the street up ahead."

That makes you winden your eyes a little, and now that you were in his warm arms, turning your head on his direction made you almost bump noses with him.

"All the way to the street...?" You mumble, almost incredulous.

"Aye! Big plot, yeah? Pride and joy to raise my pups 'ere! And when ye go back to school, we'll use one of our trucks to take ye." He smiles, tilting his head to the side in the direction of a big construction in the distance, hard to see, but you deduced it was where the automobiles were.

Suddenly, his fluffly ears perked up, turning on the direction of the house without him even turning his face. A smile appeared easily on his face as he looked down at you on his arms.

"Mama is calling us back." He snickers as he jokes, making you tilt your head in confusion a bit. "Simon, aye? Actually, both mamas. Even Kyle is starting to get antsy. Best that way, eh, wee pup? Before ye get a cold."

You turn your head over his shoulder to look back at the house, and sure enough, Simon and Kyle were both waiting by the open door as Johnny started to make his way back with you still on his arms.

"Tsc, are you trying to make her get sick?" Simon snarks as soon as you two get close enough to the door, grabbing you from Johnny's arms as he takes you inside quickly.

"We dinae even spend that much time outside!" Johnny protests even tho he still had a smile on his face.

"No, I agree with Si, even I was getting a bit antsy." Kyle sighs, closing the door behind Johnny, making sure to lock it. "I thought it would be fine, but it's cold out, and... ugh, whatever. It's hard to explain." He grunts, shaking his head.

"Nah, I get it." Johnny laughs slightly, watching Simon taking your jacked and beanie off gently as he leads you to the kitchen to eat dinner. "Was getting deep into my instincts and lassie was just... standing still, looking at me with big ol' eyes."

"Next time, we are all going out together." Kyle nods, going back to the kitchen with Johnny right behind him.

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Broke: everyone fights over whose Batman’s favorite

Woke: everyone fights over whose Dicks favorite bc Dick isn’t an emotionally stunted loser (I shit talk Bruce so much but I love him, he’s just also a loser) and trying to get in the bats favor is like trying to catch sand in a sieve

————

Damian: obviously I’m Graysons favorite I was his Robin

Tim: dude I was the first Robin he trained and we still talk every day I am 100% the favorite

Steph: fuck you! You disappeared off the the face of the earth when he was Batman I was actually here I’m 100% the favorite everyone knows Wing loves me.

Jason: Dick willingly went to Gotham to spend time with me even when he was mad at Bruce. Has Dick ever been in Gotham when he was mad at Bruce for you guys? No? Didn’t think so?

Damian: ….

Steph:…

Tim: that’s because you sucked so much he thought you’d get blown up trying to have to bludhaven.

Jason: oi! Low blow, you can’t use a man’s death against him

Damian: shut up we’ve all died before

Steph: you literally said you were allowed to break Tim’s laptop bc you died b4

Jason: yeah it’s MY DEATH I can use it how I want

Tim: we really gonna call your 14yr old 4’7 self a man?

Cass: he helped me train when B rejected me I’m the favorite

Tim: you can’t be Dicks favorite you’re already Bab’s favorite those are the only 2 likable older members of the family. (They’ve decided Alfred doesn’t count since he’s legally not allowed to have favorites)

Dick: Duke is my favorite

Damian: what?

Tim: how?

Jason: this shit is rigged

Steph: What?? You barely spend time with him?

Duke who has been eating popcorn quietly this whole time:???

Dick: he doesnt steal my suit and murder people

Jason: …

Dick: or tell his friends I threatened to send him to Arkham when I told him to get therapy

Tim:…

Dick: or break into my apartment at 3am because he can’t communicate with his father

Damian:…

Dick: or make me believe he flatlined on the operating table

Steph: …

Dick: or tell me he can’t meet up for a bust because he’s too busy fighting Wonder Woman a hero we work with over text with no context and then go AWOL for 5 days

Cass:…

Dick: or overload his plate with 50 million things I will have to come in and help with

Everyone:

Steph: he started a cult tho??

Dick: was it before or after he was fostered bc if it was before it’s. Not. My. Problem.

Duke: I’m the favorite???

Dick: also I feel like if I died you’re the most likely to take over my duties and not go on a quest for vengeance or try to clone me or put me in the Lazarus pit.

Jason: ID NEVER PUT you in the Lazarus pit…. No comment on the rest tho.

Tim: ditto

Damian: meh you are superior to Todd and he’s relatively functional post the pit I don’t see the issue here.

Steph raising hand: I wouldn’t-

Dick: or help TIM do it

Steph lowering hand:

Dick: plus you have a parent so I don’t have to do 80% of the child rearing while giving Bruce credit

Duke still a little star stuck bc that’s nightwing: IM THE FAVORITE.

[barcaatthemoon]

mascot || leah williamson x reader ||

you and leah have a talk about expanding your family after your nephew is leah's mascot.

"There's a canon on my shirt," Max, your nephew, proudly announced to the car. You felt bad about leaving Leah on her own for the morning before a game, but Max was supposed to be her mascot for the game today, and you wanted to personally deliver the boy. Your family would be down later, but you got to keep him to yourself for the morning and afternoon leading up to the game.

"It's the Arsenal canon. Pretty cool, right?" you asked him. Max nodded enthusiastically. You smiled as you turned your attention back towards traffic. It was a dreadfully long drive from your brother's place to London, but this was worth it. Besides, after the game, Max would get to spend some quality time at your parents' place for a bit.

You generally had busy days for most of Max's visits, compliments of your girlfriend. Leah loved having the boy over, and usually had a bunch of little things planned for the three of you to do together. Today, it'd be a chill day of brunch before you went to the game. Max was careful in keeping his Williamson jersey clean, which you thought was quite the feat for the boy.

"Is that my favorite bench buddy?" Alessia asked as she saw you in the parking lot. Max's face lit up as he saw the blonde. He was fond of all of the Lioness players. Since he had lived in England his entire life, he thought of himself as a proper little Englishman. You and your brother were absolutely besides yourselves trying to correct that, but it was a losing battle.

"Where's Leah at?" Max was hugging Alessia, but his focus was on your girlfriend. Alessia laughed, promising to bring Max to Leah once they were inside. You left took Max back so that Alessia could get dressed, unsurprised when Leah and Kim came out to see Max.

Leah went straight to you, giving you a big kiss while Kim had Max distracted. She handed him a little Scottish flag, something you knew that would end up as a decoration on your brother's desk. Max didn't care for Scottish stuff, but that wouldn't stop any of you from trying with him.

"Do you like my canon Leah?" Max asked. Leah nodded as she picked him up. You stepped back to let her have a moment with Max.

"Williamson, huh. I'm surprised that you didn't put your last name on there," Kim said. You shrugged at the comment, currently out from Arsenal for a bad injury. You knew that your whole career was at stake, but you had been trying not to think about it too much. You didn't want to freak yourself out too badly about things.

"Don't tell her, I want her to notice on her own. Also, Max insisted, claimed that he had enough of my stuff. I swear he loves Leah more than me," you huffed. It wasn't true annoyance, in fact, you were glad that Max loved Leah so much.

You wanted a family with her, but you didn't know if she wanted that too. Leah had been nervous at first around Max, claiming that she wasn't great with kids. You knew that was far from the truth now. She had a better maternal instinct than you did, and you had dreamed of being a mother since you were a baby yourself. A large part of your family had always been very traditional, so for a long time, you thought it was your only option. You were older and knew better now, and it was seeing how the world changed made you feel good about bringing a new life into it.

"Alright little man, we've got places to be," you told Max. He gave Kim and Leah big kisses goodbye, and made them promise to give Alessia and Beth some too. Max happily followed you over to where the other kids and their parents were waiting. He was a social butterfly, so he managed to make friends with several of the children around him.

He was lost in his own little world until Leah and the other players came. Immediately, he flocked to your girlfriend. Leah held his hand in hers, and you knew she wouldn't let go for anything. You stood back a bit, and snapped a picture of them talking to each other as both teams began to line up. You wouldn't post it, but you'd keep it for yourself and Leah to look back on later.

"Oi, Max is gonna stay on the bench, okay?" Leah shouted. You gave her a thumbs up. You found your spot in the friends and family section right by the bench just in case Max needed something. You filmed Leah walking Max out, and just how obvious it was that she cared for him. Those videos did go to your story, but it didn't seem odd for you to post Leah in the lineup. Everybody knew about your relationship, and a few dedicated fans even knew about her little adventures with Max whenever you managed to get him for an off weekend.

…

"We probably could have taken him for tonight," Leah said as she watched your parents drive off with Max. She had held onto him all throughout the post-game celebrations. Leah even managed to talk your parents into going out for dinner just so that she could stay close to your nephew.

"Leah, I'd hate to burst your bubble, but we're second to my parents. That boy loves his Nanny and Papa," you told her. Leah knew that it was true. He may have asked to sit with Leah, but he had been talking your parents' ears off all night. Still, you hadn't missed the way that both Max and Leah seemed to lean into each other for comfort.

"Do you ever think that we'd make good parents?" Leah asked you. She leaned her head against your shoulder, eyes fixed on the night sky ahead of you. You could hear the apprehension in her voice, like she was afraid that you'd reject the ide of becoming a mother with Leah. Since the two of you had gotten serious about each other and your relationship, there wasn't a single person in the world that you could think to have a child with other than her.

"I don't know about myself, but you'll be a great mother. Nobody will do everything right, but I think that you'd probably come the closest," you told her. Leah lifted her head up and turned you around to face her. "I think that you could do good enough for the both of us."

"You sound fucking mental to me right now. Seriously, you're the most loving and caring woman that I know. If it's about Max, he just thinks that I'm cool. I can't even take care of myself without you, but you'd be fine without me," Leah said. She sounded so sure that you had to believe her, even if it was just a little bit. "I'd have a baby with you right now if I could."

"Well, I will be out for quite a while. There's still another whole surgery that I need and the physical therapy for it. What if we waited until the last surgery and then started trying?" you asked. Leah seemed a bit surprised, but you could tell that it wasn't a bad thing. "There's no rush to even think about it. I just thought that maybe it was something to throw out there."

"Yes," Leah answered quickly. Now, it was your turn for the shock to settle in. "I want to have a child with you, and this seems like the way to go. We don't have to tell anybody until it takes, and I mean, it's kind of perfect anyway. And if you decide that you don't want to go back at the end of your injury, you won't have to scramble around trying to find your place. I'll even step back from some things to really help out because I don't want you to feel alone for a second."

"Leah, this is a big step. Promise me that you won't get cold feet." You didn't mean to sound to scared, but Leah comforted you anyway.

"Never, I'd be an idiot to even consider it. You don't even know how lucky I feel to wake up next to you everyday. And the idea of having you and a baby? Babe, I'm over the moon already. Now, let's get home so that we can start on the process," Leah said as she grabbed your hand.

"I'm not sure that's gonna work," you laughed as Leah pulled you along.

"Simulation, it's very important!" Leah exclaimed. You continued laughing as she just scooped you into her arms and sprinted to get you into the car.

[kinardstits]

(@ AO3. Bucktommy mpreg, cos that's what we're doing now lmao)

There’s no nausea.

No bolting from the kitchen when Melton insists on heating his tuna salad.

No tears, no emotional outbursts, nothing to tip Tommy off until the bell rings and he jumps off his seat, only to have his vision go white and the world tilt into darkness.

He wakes to Lucy taking his blood pressure; to his Captain, of all people, holding his legs up in her lap.

Tommy closes his eyes, swallowing the embarrassment.

.

He thought it was exhaustion.

Tommy knew he shouldn’t–

He caused this.

Ev– Buck had looked at him, all wide smiles and stars in his eyes, and he had gotten up and left, absolutely terrified in the face of the other’s worship.

So, when he began to have trouble sleeping, lost his appetite, began to isolate–

He deserved it. That was punishment.

The results in his shaky hands feel worse than that.

“Mr. Kinard?” Tommy barely reacts besides looking up at the nurse. She smiles back, not unlike a sympathetic wince. “Is there anyone you would like me to call?”

Tommy ought to say no.

He nods instead.

.

The bench is warm from the sun. It could be enough to ward off the chill that seemed to seep into his bones.

It’s not.

Someone comes to a stop beside him. They wait for a beat before they sit, knee knocking into his. “Hey.”

To his horror, Tommy feels tears flood his vision. “Hey.”

Eddie frowns, leaning forward in his seat to try and catch Tommy’s gaze. He looks concerned yet wary, watching him so closely Tommy feels like his skin is being peeled back. “I was surprised when the hospital called me.” He said, eyes flickering between Tommy’s face and the envelope in his hands. “I thought you had changed your emergency contact to…”

Tommy tries not to wince as Eddie trails off. “I nearly did.” He sniffs, wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve. “Had the paperwork filled and everything, but then I thought I wouldn’t want a stranger to tell him I’d died, so.” He shrugs.

“You added me?”

Tommy nods. “Yeah.”

Eddie is silent for a bit before saying, “Well, you’re a fucking asshole.” And Tommy lets a laugh, closely resembling a sob. “Cos I wouldn’t want that either.”

“Sorry. I should probably change it–”

“Don’t you dare,” Eddie glares before his eyes flicker to the envelope again. “Is that what this is? Are you–?”

“Dying?” Tommy asks and Eddie nods, face resolute. He shakes his head, “Not any more than the regular living being.” Before the other can ask, he offers him the envelope.

Eddie hesitates, however. “Are you sure?”

“I, uh.” And Tommy is back to blinking back tears, trying to focus on anything other than whatever his life is at the moment. “I don’t know what to do.” He confesses. “For the first time since I left the military, I’m truly at a loss, Eddie, and I know, I know I hurt Buck and that he certainly got you in the divorce, but. I, uh. I don’t have many friends. I didn’t know who else to talk to.”

Concerned, and more than a little curious, Eddie carefully extracts the envelope from Tommy’s shaky fingers. They’re both silent save for the sound of paper rustling and Tommy feels his heart leap into his throat the moment Eddie seems to stop breathing beside him. “Tommy.”

“My parents got me tested as a child. I believed the paperwork– I never thought to check.”

“You shouldn’t have had to,” Eddie tries to soothe, reaching out to curl a hand around one of Tommy’s wrists.

“I’m forty-one years old,” Tommy chokes out, tears finally falling onto his jeans. He stares as the droplets soak into the fabric. “I don’t– I never expected this .”

Eddie’s face becomes a complicated mess. “Well, if you’re having unprotected sex, what did you expect? A flatscreen?” He backpedals quickly when Tommy stands, ripping his wrist out of his hand. “I’m sorry– I’m trying to lighten the mood–”

“Very fucking poorly–”

“I know, it sounded better in my head– Whoa.”

Tommy blinks and he’s back on the bench, lightheaded. “Oh, uh. Thanks.”

Eddie’s staring at him, the paramedic in him alert. “What else did the nurses tell you?”

“Uh. To set up an appointment with an Ob-Gyn. To– To eat, yeah. My glucose’s low.”

And Eddie just keeps on staring, eyes narrowing. “And they didn’t give you anything while you were inside?” When Tommy shakes his head, he visibly bites back a curse. “Well, c’mon then. I know a place with the best breakfast burritos in the whole of LA.” Eddie pauses, then leans in. “Don’t tell Abuela.”

.

Tommy begins to feel normal around the last mouthful of his second burrito, sighing almost obscenely at the mix of salsa, cheesy eggs, and sausage invading his palate.

The cilantro alone could drag a moan out of him.

He hates cilantro.

It tastes like soap.

(It tastes like heaven.)

Eddie watches him with thinly veiled amusement, sipping at his latte and pushing his last burrito toward Tommy. “You look like you haven’t seen food in weeks.”

Tommy shrugs, already biting into the offered treat. “Haven’t had much appetite, to be honest. Since.”

They fall silent then, sitting in the bed of Eddie’s truck somewhere along the coast. “Why did you do it?” Eddie eventually caves, asking the question that Tommy’s certain had been burning at the tip of his tongue since he got the call. “Buck’s been miserable, and you, well.” He snorts. “You look like roadkill.”

“Hm, flatterer.”

“And you’re an expert at deflecting. Trust me, takes one to know one.” Eddie takes another sip of his coffee. After so long with a fuzzy caterpillar on his lip, he looks strange bare-faced. “Spill.”

Tommy returns his gaze to his food. “I’m sure Buck has told you everything there is to know.”

“From his point of view, yeah. I want to know yours, too. I’m sure you had a reason.” When Tommy stares at him in wonder, Eddie shrugs self-consciously. “I’m not saying I agree with what you did or why you did it– I’m sure your reasoning’s absolute horse shit. Just that it probably made sense to you.”

Picking at the frayed edges of the paper wrap, Tommy considers his words before, “He asked me to move in.”

“I know.”

“He never even told me he loved me.”

Eddie pauses and lowers his styrofoam cup. “Ever?”

Tommy shakes his head, letting out a humorless chuckle. “He found out about Abby and pulled away. Next thing I know, I’m knocking on his door for date night and he’s talking about how confident I am, about how I’m an inspiration for him. Then, he asks me to move in.” Appetite forgotten, he re-wraps the burrito and sets it aside. Picks up his chamomile tea and makes a show of blowing on it, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat. “It hit me then that he was infatuated by the Tommy in his head, not me.” He snorts humorlessly. “I barely came out four years ago, Eddie. I’m not confident, I’m just a coward, but Ev– Buck? He has been cruising ahead, speedrunning through his queer experience and I just. I couldn’t keep up anymore.

Tommy sips at his tea and burns the tip of his tongue. He continues. “I realized I had fallen in love with someone who was attracted to a polished, sanitized version of me. I couldn’t– I wanted to say yes. For a second, he asked me to move in, and Eddie, I was so happy. But then reality came crashing down and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t take that leap.”

“So, you broke it off.”

Tommy nodded. “Better to do it now and survive the hurt than to have to restart my life when Buck eventually sees all of me and realizes he made a mistake.” He sniffs and mentally blames it on the sea breeze. “I wouldn’t survive it.”

They fall silent again but then Eddie is snorting, shaking his head. “You’re both absolute imbéciles.”

“I know just enough Spanish to know you’re insulting me.”

“Oh, I am, rest assured.” Eddie throws back the last of his coffee before he sets the cup aside. “Buck was, well. Buck. Steamrolling ahead, as usual, I get that, but you? You self-sabotaged, man.”

“I looked out for myself. Maybe that’s selfish–”

“A little bit, yeah. At the same time, it’s self-preservation. Can we blame a hurt animal for lashing out?”

“Therapy is doing you wonders, huh.”

“Yeah, maybe you should consider it.” Eddie bit back. “Point is– You both need to sit down and talk. Tell him what you told me.”

“He needs to know what’s out there, to know for sure what he wants or if this was just some, some bi-curious experiment –”

“Shut the fuck up.” Eddie cut in, finally mad. “I’ve known Buck for a very long time, now, and I can tell you that this is the most settled and sure of himself he has ever been. You’re scared, and I get that, but don’t talk like he’s not a thirty-three-year-old adult, capable of knowing what he wants.”

That shuts Tommy right up and he looks away again, gripping his cup hard enough that some of the tea spills out onto his fingers. He focuses on the scorch rather than the glare burning into the side of his face. “Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it? It’s done. We’re done.”

“Not if you reach out to him, especially now.”

Tommy flinches so violently he physically recoils. “No, most definitely not now .” He spats, suddenly angry. Is it the implication, the tone of voice? And from Eddie, no less, for so long defined by the surprise of parenthood. “What are you suggesting here, man? That I– that I trap–”

He can’t say it.

If he says it, it becomes true, doesn’t it?

Eddie, however, has no such qualms. “I’m not suggesting anything, Tommy.” He softens before delivering the blow. “You’re pregnant. You just found out. No one’s baby-trapping anyone.”

“But that’s what’ll happen.” Tommy chokes out and he realizes that the feeling that had lodged itself in his throat since his test results came back was anxiety. “Evan has always wanted a family. He’ll want to be there, every step of the way. He’ll feel obligated, Eddie.”

“And that’s bad, why?” Eddie wonders. “Are you afraid he’ll resent you for some reason or are you afraid you won’t be able to keep up the walls you built around your heart?”

“Both.”

“Talk to him.”

“I don’t know if I should. Not yet.” At the other’s frown, Tommy is quick to explain. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell him– I know I have to. It’s only right and I will do it, but.” He pauses, looking away. He eyes the tide. “There might not even be a baby by the end of the week.”

“Don’t say that–”

“It’s a geriatric pregnancy, Eddie. Never mind genetic disorders, miscarriage rates are through the roof. Know what else is through the roof? My blood pressure.”

“I know, I saw your results. That doesn’t mean there isn’t hope.” Eddie argues, then pauses, considering. “I mean. Do you even want this?”

Tommy stares at him, trying to think of an answer before settling on, “I don’t know.”

“Oh.”

“I’m not saying– I really don’t know. I didn’t even know I was a carrier. It feels like this is a hypothetical situation happening to a hypothetical Tommy, only at the end of forty weeks a whole human will burst out of me, and I will be responsible for them for the rest of my life.”

Eddie’s silent, watching him, before he scoots closer and asks in a soft tone, “Are you scared?”

“I’m terrified.”

And Tommy sobs.

.

By the time his first appointment arrives, Tommy still hasn’t been able to tell Evan.

He keeps staring at their messages, starts to type even, but then– deflates.

What could he even say?

‘Hey, I’m pregnant. Can we talk?’ No, too direct.

‘Hi. We need to talk.’ Too catastrophic, Evan would spiral– not exactly the vibe he wants to go for.

Should he try a meme?

Before Tommy can decide, he’s called by a nurse and soon enough he’s lying on a stretcher, getting cold gel poured on his abs and being prodded in the bladder with the stick from hell.

They’re hard to find because of his muscle mass and so, so tiny but they’re there, wiggling in the small monitor.

He's eight weeks pregnant.

He's due in the summer.

(He hopes with all his heart he gets that far.)

When he can finally pull his pants back up, his eyes are red and swollen, and the fast drumming of a tiny heart keeps echoing in his ears, two printed sonograms in his hands. One, Tommy will keep.

The other, he will give it to Evan.

He schedules his next appointment before he leaves, unaware of Maddie Buckley-Han’s narrow-eyed gaze locked onto him.

.

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

Tommy rolls his eyes, elbows deep in soapy water. “Am I?”

Eddie takes the bait, narrowing his eyes. “I did you a favor by taking his phone away. Or would you have been ready to talk to Buck had he called you today?”

“I guess we’ll never know.”

“–You’re a bit of a bitch, anyone ever told you that?”

“Hm. What was it you said the other day? Takes one to know one?”

Eddie tips his beer towards him, trying not to grin. “Touché.”

They fall into a comfortable silence, interrupted only by the sound of rinsing dishes and pages being turned. When Eddie closes the small notebook and Tommy wipes his hands on a rag, he asks, “So, what’s the prognosis, doc?”

Eddie mock glares at him, poking the rows of neat results Tommy diligently writes down every day. “All good, so far. Blood pressure seems to fluctuate a bit, but nothing too serious. Glucose levels could use some work, however.”

At the other’s pointed stare, Tommy crumbles. “ You keep bringing me banana bread.”

“I am not physically capable of eating all the loaves Buck thrusts my way–”

“Then why bring them to me if you’re gonna bitch at me for my sugar levels?”

“Cos, I keep expecting you to take them with you to Harbor, not eat them all!”

“Since you began bringing me these, toasted banana bread is literally all I can think about. Nothing else compares. Do not fucking judge me, Diaz–”

“– What in the actual flying fuck .”

Tommy does not think.

One moment he’s arguing with his friend, the next he has a frying pan in hand, ready to face the intruder that had made his way into his house with nothing but cast iron and Muay Thai.

Ev– Buck just stands there, eyes flickering between the pan and Tommy and Eddie. He narrows his eyes, nostrils flaring, and repeats, “What the fuck .”

“How did you get in?” Eddie asks, looking like a deer in headlights.

“Still have a key. Why are you here?”

Eddie seems to take a second to formulate a reply before what escapes him is, “Why can’t I be here?”

“Oh boy,” Tommy murmurs, lowering the pan.

“Why can’t– What – He broke my heart –!”

“And he was my friend first, or did you forget you nearly broke my ankle over his dick –”

“Guys–” Tommy tries to interrupt but quickly shuts his mouth, being glared at by the other two.

“You know I’ve been wanting to reach out,” Buck argues, shaking the phone in his hand for good measure. “You wouldn’t let me! You never even told me you kept in touch!”

“What would you have done if I had?” Eddie barks back. “I couldn’t even say his name the first week because you would pout and scowl your way into a corner!”

“I do not pout,” Evan snaps, bottom lip jutting out in what was clearly a pout.

Nerves fraying, and frankly growing tired of all the shouting in his own goddamn house, Tommy bangs the pan down on the countertop with finality. The others instantly shut up, eyeing him and the potential weapon warily. “Buck,” He tries not to wince at the glare now turned on him. “Why are you here?”

Buck hesitates, looking between him and Eddie before he seemingly decides his best friend can wait to receive a piece of his mind. To Tommy's confusion, he walks further into the kitchen and then rounds the island, stopping and staring at him rather than using his words.

Tommy shifts, uncomfortable and feeling more exposed under Buck's scrutinizing gaze than he ever felt while naked with the other man. Eventually, the other’s entire posture shifts and, to Tommy’s surprise, goes soft . “–You look so tired .”

“Uh. Thanks?” Tommy tries to laugh it off, exchanging a confused look with Eddie.

Then, Buck pulls the rug out from under him. “Are you taking prenatal vitamins?”

Tommy stares, stunned into silence while Eddie lets out a small sigh.

He thinks of deflecting. Of making a joke, throwing in a finger gun or two, but his body betrays him, refusing to let him run.

He's frozen and clammy and Evan's eyes are so sad –

He nearly misses the stool behind him.

There are voices around him, but they're garbled– it feels like there is cotton in his ears, in his brain, he can't think . There's only all-consuming anxiety.

–And pain.

Oh shit, there's pain –

Tommy hisses, pulling back from the knuckles digging into his sternum. “Sorry,” Eddie apologizes, not sorry at all, eyeing him carefully. Tommy slowly becomes aware of his other hand, tightly wrapped around his wrist with a thumb pressing into his pulse point. “You okay?”

“How did you know?” Tommy asks instead, looking over Eddie's shoulder at Buck.

Buck fidgets, looking like he wants to shove Eddie aside and take over. “Maddie's pregnant,” he explains. “You share the same obstetrician.”

Tommy sighs with his whole body, feeling the sting of frustrated tears at the corner of his eyes. Of course, he thinks. Los Angeles and they just had to share the same doctor.

Nothing could ever be easy for Tommy.

“I didn't know you were a carrier.” Buck continues.

Tommy huffs out a weak laugh, watching Eddie as he pulls back and goes fishing for his blood pressure monitor. He couldn't look Evan in the eyes anymore. “Neither did I until– until .”

“When did you find out?”

“Two weeks and four days ago,” Tommy replies almost automatically. Should Buck ask, he could even give him the time.

(One tends to remember every detail when one's life fundamentally changes.)

(Thirty-eight past eight in the morning. Tuesday. It was sunny, as it often is in LA.)

“When did Eddie know?” Buck asks, and ah. He’s angry. He’s pissed, in fact.

Tommy closes his eyes and rubs his face with both hands, pressing the pads of his fingers into his eyeballs until he sees stars. “I’m sorry,” He eventually mumbles. “He’s– He’s my emergency contact. I didn’t know who else to call after.”

He feels rather than sees Buck sit on the stool beside his. “You could have called me .”

Tommy looks up then, squinting at the other as his eyes clear up. “Would you have picked up?” He asks, beginning to match Buck’s resentment. “Had I called you two weeks ago, would you have taken it?”

Buck holds his gaze for a beat, then two, before he finally looks away, anger fading partially into resignation. “I don’t know.”

“There’s your answer, then.”

“I still deserved to know.” Tommy scoffs out a laugh, shaking his head, but Buck doesn’t let up. “Or didn’t I? Cos the timeline– It’s mine, right?”

“Wow,” Tommy stands then, trying and failing to hide the hurt the question caused. He vaguely hears Eddie mutter a soft ‘ dios mio ’ to their left. “I– Wow .”

Buck seems to realize his mistake as he quickly jumps to his feet as well, eyes wide. “Not– Not that I’m implying–”

“Well, you just fucking did .”

“I’m sorry,” Buck continues, visibly upset. “I didn’t mean– I’m putting my foot in my mouth.” He pauses, trying to reign in his emotions. He takes a deep breath, “I never thought you cheated. I know you would have never cheated on me, that’s not you, but– Maddie’s been weird. Looking at me, waiting for something. Imagine my surprise when she asks me today why haven’t I told her about you and– and a baby .”

Tommy just shakes his head, blinking back frustrated tears. “Buck–”

“Stop calling me that!” Evan finally snaps. It echoes throughout the small kitchen, resonates in Tommy’s ears, and for a moment he considers just walking away, locking himself inside his bedroom and waiting for everyone else to just leave.

“Buck,” Eddie says, a warning from where he’s standing nearby, monitor in hand.

“I realize I have been far from perfect,” Evan steamrolls ahead, beginning to pace. “How– How I was going too fast, how I failed to see you were beginning to struggle to keep up, how I never realized that the communication we prided ourselves on having was lacking cos you didn’t even know I fucking loved you .”

“Buck,” Eddie tries again.

“I couldn’t have known something you never bothered to tell me,” Tommy snaps back, standing and straightening to his full size. They were the same height, he and Evan, but Tommy was still broader, yet to lose muscle mass from having been ordered to stop strenuous workouts. 

He uses it as armor.

“You could have talked to me, come to me with this!”

“And said what ?! There you were, putting me on a pedestal like some fucking paragon of gayness when you had literally just found out how much of a fucking coward I had been for far too long! I lied to myself for decades, broke Abby’s heart in the process, and barely managed to put my puzzle pieces together when you walked into my life! You were practically the only serious relationship I had ever had, the only one I saw a future with!” Tommy yells, heart in his throat. He desperately wants to stop, cease the torrent of information he had never shared with anyone but himself, but he finds he can’t, far too keyed up to stop now. “But then you basically describe the person you’re infatuated with and fucking newsflash, it ain’t me! I am not confident,” He stabs one finger in the air, “I am not comfortable,” Another finger, “and I most certainly am not worthy of anyone’s bloody admiration! I am a fucking mess, Evan, and at that moment I realized that you didn’t know me, only the idealized version in your head! So, tell me, how could I have said yes to you? How could I have stayed, knowing one day the pink goggles would fall off and you’d realize you made a mistake?! What was I supposed to do, then, a year, five years, ten years down the road? Rebuild my life from the ashes of what would have been my forever?”

“Tommy,” Evan breathes, swallowing back tears.

“I’m sorry I broke your heart,” Tommy apologizes through gritted teeth, paraphrasing the other’s words from earlier. His hands are shaking and there’s sweat running down his back, but he can’t stop, won’t stop until Evan understands – “That I broke both our hearts, but had I taken that leap, you would have killed me. I couldn’t– I couldn’t risk it.”

“ Tommy –”

“I– I can’t–” Tommy pants, realizing too late the adrenaline is choking him, is burning him from the inside out–

He tilts, and all he can think about is that it’s becoming a fucking habit.

.

Tommy wakes up to something cold in his neck, staring up at his kitchen’s ceiling.

There are cobwebs on the wooden beams.

Huh.

He should clean that up, sometime.

“Tom?”

Tommy blinks, still out of it. “Evan?”

Slowly, he realizes that he’s lying on the tile, head cushioned in Eddie’s lap. His legs are being held up by Evan and Tommy’s hit with deja vu so strong his head spins. He tries to move and realizes maybe it isn’t just the deja vu. “W’happened?”

“Blood pressure shot up,” Eddie says, pressing the cold compress he’s holding to Tommy’s temple. “Your body shut down.”

Tommy’s heart jolts and he tries to lift a hand, finding it stuck by the monitor’s sleeve. “Is it–”

“Palpation’s good,” Evan interjects, squeezing his leg. He looks tired now, no longer itching for a fight. “We caught you before you hit the floor.”

“Good. Thanks.” Tommy breathes, relief flooding his veins. The emotional toll tugs at him and he swallows against the knot in his throat. “I’m sorry.”

Evan visibly bites the inside of his cheek to keep his face in check. “I’m sorry, too.”

There’s a lull. The fridge hums to his left, Evan sniffles occasionally, the monitor beeps periodically– Tommy feels like a stranger in his own skin.

When the sound of velcro rips through the quiet as Eddie removes the sleeve, he finds the energy to speak again. “I never meant to keep this from you.”

“Tommy,” Eddie warns.

“I know,” Tommy sighs. He’s not planning on blowing up his lid, again. If anything, he feels empty, having released all the pent-up tension within him. “Just. It wasn’t malice. I was waiting.”

Evan frowns, confused. “For what?”

“To make sure there would be anything to tell.”

Evan keeps frowning, confused before he exchanges a look with Eddie, and it clicks. “Tom.”

“It was one of our first conversations.” Tommy continues, “Kids. I know you wanted them, and would want to know about this one, but– I’m old. I never even knew I could grow life. My body keeps betraying me,” He confesses, curling his hands into fists. The cold of the tile is seeping into his bones, mocking him. “I can’t fly anymore. My Captain has me grounded at the station as a glorified clerk, I can’t watch games anymore because my heart tries to beat its way out of me, I can’t work on cars because of the chemicals, and I am stuck walking loops around the neighborhood cos I can’t even run –”

“You’re scared,” Evan interrupts. “I get that, I can understand that, but you seem to be missing a key factor, here.”

“I am?”

“I’m not here just because you’re pregnant with my baby. I’m here because you are pregnant with our baby.”

Tommy pauses, and wonders if he’s still out of it because, “I don’t understand.”

Evan carefully lays his legs on the floor and scoots a little closer. “Tommy– I’m saying that I care .” He pauses, looking like he’s waiting for Tommy to understand. He flaps his hands in agitation when it becomes clear he isn’t getting his point across. “About the both of you. I want to be here, and I wish I had known sooner, not just because I’m worried about whether or not this baby will make it past the first trimester but because I’m worried about you , too. I don’t– I don’t want this if it means you’re at risk, Tommy.”

Tommy’s silent for a bit, staring at the other man.

He takes in the furrow of his brow, the worry overlapping his frustration– His heart on his sleeve. He realizes he’s crying when Evan’s expression shifts to mild panic and he feels Eddie awkwardly dab at his cheeks with the compress he’s still holding. “Don’t.” He eventually gets out.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t give me hope that I get to keep you both.”

Evan stares down at him, incredulous, before his eyes harden and Tommy thinks, Oh. This is how it finally ends.

“Eddie?”

Eddie hums, trying not to show how awkward he feels, stuck between his bickering friends. “Yea?”

“Can you give us a minute?”

“ Gracias a Dios , yes–”

There’s a flurry of movement that has Tommy dizzy again but before he can protest, Eddie runs out of the kitchen and Evan takes his place. Warm, calloused hands cup his face and Tommy has the fleeting intrusive thought that his neck’s about to be snapped. “Tom,” He begins, thumbs rubbing against his cheekbones and wiping away tears and cold sweat. “Back at my apartment, you said your piece. Today, you did it again, but now ? Now, it’s time you listened . Earlier? I said that I loved you. I lied.”

Tommy holds the other’s gaze, despite the urge to run. “You don’t have to twist the knife–”

“Shut up,” Evan interrupts, then keeps going. “I lied. How? Cos it’s not past tense. It’s present tense. I love you. I never stopped. That night– You said a lot of bullshit, okay? About– about me finding myself, about you not being my last? I’m not even going to touch on how biphobic that sounded.”

“I’m sorry–”

“I’m not done. I may not have vast experience when it comes to dating men, but that does not mean that I can’t know what I want. I’m an adult, Tommy. I know what I wanted then, I know what I want now– And I want us . It doesn’t matter that you’re a guy; it matters to me that you’re you , and yeah, I jumped the gun– got ahead of myself and scared you off. Perhaps I had my pink goggles on, even, but you know what? The goggles are off, now.” Evan smiles, but it’s almost a wince, too. “You broke up with me and it hurt . I baked my feelings so much I could have opened a small bakery.”

“Your banana bread is great.” Tommy chokes out.

“Thanks, I got more at– Wait, no , stop interrupting me. I am still not done.” Tommy nods, gesturing at the other to continue. “You know why I baked? So I wouldn’t contact you. Every time I got the urge, I put everything into those cakes, and– I could have done anything . I could have redecorated, painted the walls, gotten into a new hobby– but you had a sweet tooth a mile wide, and even mad at you, I wanted to be close to you, somewhat. Then– I saw you bubbling me, today. I watch you type, type, type, and then just– give up.” Tommy saw the other’s throat bobble as he swallowed. “I wanted to call you. Eddie stole my phone. After our shift, I went to Maddie’s to vent… And then she told me she saw you, and all I could think of was how bad I must have been as a boyfriend if you were hiding this from me or thought you couldn’t tell me about it.”

“You weren’t. I just–”

“–Were scared.” Evan finishes for him and Tommy nods. “I get that now. I get why . And I’m sorry, for ever making you feel inadequate. Maybe… Maybe we’re still a little stuck. On that day, our official first date.”

“With the bad coffee?”

“Yeah,” Evan huffs out a laugh. “I said we didn’t know much about each other.”

“Practically everything.” Tommy smiled back.

“I still want to change that. I know that I want something, and I know now that I definitely want it to be with you.”

“And I’m definitely still interested if you’ll have me.” Tommy sniffled. He couldn’t believe his luck, yet… “I– have a condition, however. Two, in fact.”

“Anything.”

“First, I need you to tell me that you’re not just saying all this because I’ve got a bun in the oven.”

Evan sobers up then, expression softening. “I’m not. I meant it– I love you , and that comes before any proverbial baby. I’m here for you, first and foremost.”

“I just don’t want you to feel trapped.”

“I don’t, but now I have to ask something of you, too.” Evan leans in, brushing the pads of his fingers across his jawline. “You need to start trusting me. I know – I know it’s hard and it’ll take time but– Believe me when I tell you I care, okay? I’ll say it as many times as you need, just– try . Or talk to me when it gets hard, okay?”

Tommy nods. It’s nerve-wracking and he’ll have to work at it every day, but he’ll try. “Okay.”

“Good. Now, what’s the second condition? Maybe Eddie should have been here, be a witness–”

“Second condition is– please , slow down.” Evan blinks and then laughs, and Tommy feels the world flood with color he didn’t even notice was missing. He had missed this; the other’s laugh, the other’s warmth – “Too much?”

“No, but– Tommy . We’re having a baby. We’ve reached Mach speed.”

Tommy reaches then, taking hold of one of the other’s hands. Slowly, but purposely, he rests them over his stomach and feels Evan hold his breath. It’s reminiscent of how Evan had held his hand at the café all those months ago, and he blows a breath, hoping in his heart of hearts that this time– the third time is the charm. “Humor me?”

Evan blinks and then he’s leaning in, pressing their lips together.

Any other day, Tommy would be making a joke about upside-down kisses and all the pop culture Evan is still missing, but today? Today, he keeps his mouth shut and lets himself float on the feeling of wanting and being wanted back , flaws and all.

Evan pulls back, tears on his lashes. “Yeah,” He breathes, grinning. “I can do that.”

.

They make it past the first trimester.

The baby and their relationship.

.

Twenty-eight weeks later, Mabel Buckley-Kinard breathes her first.

(give me kudos and/or opinions)

[rejectedbytheempty]

from the dirt we rise

pairing: farmer!john price x reader, no use of y/n

word count: 2.2k

cw: your boyfriend is an asshole

synopsis: when your car breaks down in the middle of the english countryside, a tall, dark stranger comes to your rescue

“christ, going to visit my parents was your idea in the first place, don’t put this on me” your boyfriend lamented, sighing and folding his arms across his chest like a child.

your hands gripped the steering wheel with an audible squeak from the leather along with you gritting your teeth to avoid a number of profanities from slipping out. your boyfriend, nathan, had complained for months that you were never interested in his life, or that you hadn’t seemed as invested in the relationship as he was. never mind the fact that you would plan every date, or that he forgot your birthday and went out with friends instead, leaving you alone at home with a pint of ice cream.

being the good girlfriend you were, you suggested a road trip to go visit his parents, something you supposed you both wanted. you were dead wrong, apparently. the moment you brought it up, he seemed more ambivalent than happy about it and come the day of the trip, he dragged his feet all the way.

so now here you were, driving your car along the english countryside, because his was too nice to drive on all these dirt roads.

“nathan, i was trying to do something nice, for the both of us, and all i asked was that you some snacks for the way.”

he rolled his eyes, huffing with contempt, “yeah. and i did, for me. i figured you were getting your own stuff.”

you looked up to the roof of the car, muttering a silent prayer to whatever gods could hear. “fine, it’s fine. i don’t even care anymore, i.. i guess i should have clarified, i’m sorry.”

he just muttered some incoherent complaints and looked out the window. you sighed slightly and took the silence to allow yourself to admire the countryside rolling by in peace. the hills covered in lush, green grass, cows dotting the landscape. you could almost imagine living here, waking up to the sound of birds chirping for once instead of someone shouting bloody murder outside your flat’s window.

you smiled softly at the idea of walking outside onto the dewy lawn with your bare feet and not having to worry about some junkie leaving behind a used syringe. the daydream was interrupted by your boyfriend shouting your name. the front of the car had started smoking, plumes of grey billowing out from under the hood.

“shit!” you cried out, braking suddenly and jolting the two of you slightly in your seats.

“the hell is wrong with your car?” nathan asked, looking over at you with a glare.

“i- i don’t know. it was perfectly fine yesterday and i took it to the shops a couple of months ago for a checkup. do you mind checking under the hood?” you looked over at him.

he looked slightly taken aback at that, “me? i don’t know about cars, besides, it’s not my car that’s gone and killed itself. why don’t you go check?”

you supposed you couldn’t argue with his logic, it was your car after all, but you still scowled slightly as you put the car in park and popped the hood. you opened the door and stepped out, looking at nathan in the passenger seat, who took about .5 seconds of worrying before looking at his phone again.

you let out a frustrated grunt and stomped over to the front of the car, pulling up the hood. the smoke immediately rose up to meet your face and you waved it away, coughing and grimacing. after a moment of wafting away the smoke, you were finally able to look over your engine and.. all of that other stuff.

yeah, you knew nothing about cars.

you thought that maybe talking a look under the hood would automatically make you a mechanic, but apparently that’s not true. pulling out your phone, you tried to look up on google something along the lines of “my car is smoking. what do i do?” but you had not a singular bar.

groaning slightly, you shut your phone off and began to shut the hood and give up when you heard the crunch of gravel behind you. turning to look, you saw a beat-up old truck heading your way, stopping at the edge of the grass where you had pulled off the road.

you looked between the truck and your car where your boyfriend sat in the front seat, not even looking up from his phone, probably too busy playing clash of clans or some dumb shit like that.

what if whoever was in the truck was a serial killer or something and your boyfriend was too busy playing subway surfers to even notice you getting kidnapped?

you swallowed nervously as the door of the truck swung open with a loud squeak. out stepped a man that made you swallow for an entirely different reason.

he had dark brown hair and a thick, well-maintained beard. his bright blue eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled warmly at you, something so easy about the way he smiled that had your knees buckling. and if they did, then he could easily catch you with his arms, tanned and muscular, the arms of a man who spent his life working in some kind of physical labor.

“engine trouble?” he asked, his voice a deep, rumbling thing that made your brain go fuzzy.

“oh.. uh, yeah, maybe? i don’t know for sure. the car just started smoking so i pulled over to look at it” you said, finding it hard to talk with your mouth having gone dry. the sound of a car door opening and the sight of your boyfriend stepping out made your face fall slightly.

you have a boyfriend, right. almost forgot because you were too busy imagining those arms wrapped around- nathan speaking broke you out of your thoughts.

“who are you?” he asked, in a tone that made you wince. looking over at the stranger though, it didn’t even seem like he flinched at nathan puffing up his feathers.

“i’m john, nice to meet you,” john put out his hand for nathan to take. which he did, hesitantly, grimacing slightly at the force john used.

“right, i’m nathan.” he eyes flicked over to you, “not gonna introduce your bird?”

your cheeks flushed, “oh, uh, yeah” you stuttered uselessly before telling him your name.

“beautiful name for a beautiful girl” he winked at you. your mouth fell agape slightly and nathan inhaled a sharp breath, “what do you want, man? we got this handled.” when john’s eyes flicked back to nathan they hardened ever so slightly, even though he still sported a grin on his face.

“just thought i’d offer my help, i mean, it doesn’t seem like you know what you’re doing if you’re making your girl do all the work.”

at that, nathan’s face contorted with rage and he took a step towards john, whose grin only widened at that. after a second to process what happened, you immediately stepped in front of nathan, pressing your hands to his chest, “babe, stop. he’s- he’s just joking, right?” you looked pointedly to john, waiting for him to back you up. you knew it would only end badly if nathan wasn’t calmed down, not because nathan was going to hurt the stranger but because you definitely knew nathan wouldn’t stand a chance against him.

glancing between you and your boyfriend, john relented, “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to offend you. i was just joking.” looking back to nathan, you noticed his nostrils flare slightly in discontent but he backed down.

“yeah, well, don’t do it again,” nathan huffed. you relaxed slightly, letting your hands slip down from his chest to by your sides again.

“look, i’ll make it up to you. i can tow your car to the nearest mechanic. i happen to know the guy and he can give you a friends and family discount” john said, eyes glancing between you and your boyfriend.

nathan eyed him suspiciously for a second but then nodded, “alright, fine.” john then looked to you and it took a moment before you realized he was waiting for your input. “oh! i didn’t realize you were asking me too. yes, of course, thank you, that’d be wonderful” you said hurriedly. nathan shot you a dirty look when john turned around to go grab some equipment from his truck.

“what the hell was that?” he hissed. “was what?” you asked, even though you knew exactly what he meant. “you, practically starry-eyed, looking at him. acting as if your boyfriend wasn’t standing right there” he glared at you. “i.. i wasn’t starry-eyed” you said softly, it was a weak defense but you couldn’t help but think he was right. a random man off the road looks at you for more than five seconds and you’re already on your back with your belly up for scratches. “whatever, we can talk about this after the car gets fixed.”

after john secured the straps between the cars he admitted that he only had so much seat space in his truck and that one person was going to have to stay in your car for the ride there. suffice to say, nathan wasn’t happy about that.

“can’t we both sit in the car?” he practically whined.

john shrugged, “i guess so, but there’s no use in adding any more weight to the amount i’m towing, takes unnecessary risk, right?”

nathan’s lip twitched in annoyance but he couldn’t really find a reason to argue with him, “fine, i’ll sit in the truck with you.”

john looked amused at that, “making your girl sit in the car all by herself? it’s really none of my business but-“”fine! she can sit up front with you, then. jesus,” nathan said, throwing up his arms and practically stomping his way over to the car.

you winced as he slammed the car door shut and looked apologetically over at john,

“sorry, he’s just.. stressed.” he exhaled sharply through his nose, “stressed, right.”

you bit the inside of your cheek at john’s obvious lack of belief but said nothing else to persuade him, it wouldn’t do any good. the truck door squeaked open as john opened the passenger side for you, gesturing with his other hand, “in you get, sweetheart.”

you blushed slightly at his casual use of pet names, muttering a small thank you as you got in. john shut the door and then got in on his side, sliding across the worn leather bench, his warm thighs practically pressing against yours. he wasn’t lying, the seating in here was limited and you couldn’t imagine what it would have been like if nathan had tried to ride up here with the two of you.

you’re honestly surprised he didn’t. something about john made you want to listen to him, and you could guess that even though nathan was stubborn, he subconsciously felt the same way.

“so, where were you headed? doesn’t seem like you’re from around here” he broke the silence.

“oh, uh, nathan’s parents’ house, he hasn’t seen them in a while, and we figured it was time for me to meet them since we’re coming up on our third anniversary,” you said, fiddling with your hands in your lap.

“ah, the in-laws” he chuckled lightly.

“oh, me and nathan we’re not- i mean, we’re just dating right now. not engaged or anything.”

“three years and he hasn’t put a ring on that pretty finger? hm.” john frowned.

“nathan wants to take it slow. he doesn’t want to rush into anything,” you said, but it felt more like an automated response than something you actually agreed with. sure, there was nothing wrong with taking your time but anytime you brought up marriage or anything like that, nathan would get all defensive. it happened enough that you just stopped bringing it up altogether, and you hadn’t realized until now how much that had hurt you.

“sorry, i overstepped, didnt’t i? laswell’s always telling me i need to stop interrogating people, but old habits die hard.”

“you were in the military, then?” in hindsight you should have guessed something like that, from the way he stood with perfect posture or how he spoke from a place of authority, was likely an officer of some kind.

“yes ma’am, special forces. i served my time, but now i’m retired and trying to put it all behind me.”

you nodded along, “but old habits die hard” you said the words he left hanging in the air.

“exactly” he smiled over at you, making you melt into the seat.

collecting yourself, you cleared your throat then asked, “so what do you do now?”

“ah, inherited a bit of land from my grandad on my mum’s side. decided that when i retired, i would move to the countryside and start a farm.”

you laughed to yourself imagining him chasing around an escaped chicken but quickly stifled it behind your hand. he furrowed his eyebrows but looked at you more quizzically than the scalding expression nathan would have given you,

“and what’s so funny about that, miss?”

you shook your head, “nothing, really. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to laugh at you.”

“no need to apologize, i like seeing you laugh” he said, something that slipped so casually from his lips it almost startled you.

“thank you” you murmured, looking out the window to hide your flushed cheeks. just in time to save your embarrassment, john slowed the truck to a stop outside a small mechanic shop that read ‘tav and riley repairs.’

a/n: this was so fun to write actually. idek what started this whole thing but i actually typed all of it in my notes app 😭 so sorry for possible errors and also lack of capitalization. i am a certified american writer so sorry if i get something wrong :(

but anyways, lmk if you guys want more of this or if this should be a dark fic or smth more wholesome and fluffy bc i could go either way 😈

[tomboy014]

But if Batman won't adopt Danny... who will?

Starfire, and she is all over her new little brother!

Shortly after establishing the Teen Titans, Robin (Dick) introduces “Phantom” to the group, because seriously, he’s not introducing him as “Danny.”  Kinda defeats the purpose of a secret identity when you use your name in your superhero moniker.  And shows Phantom his room.

Robin’s actual goal is to get Phantom to join the Titans, but even taking short cuts through the Ghost Zone, Jump City is still a good ways away from Amity Park, and he has parents, so… It’s still a nice gesture and all, and Phantom will come visit, but no.

Still, he’s never met other teens who are heroes in their own right like he is, so he’s excited to meet Robin’s new team.  The other Titans think it’s a little weird for this not-member to have his own room in the Tower, but the place is huge, and Robin trusts him, so it’s fine.  It’s a bit awkward at first as they’re all still getting used to each other, but Phantom quickly makes friends with all of them.

But it’s his friendship with Starfire that grows first and fastest.  As soon as he finds out she’s an alien from another planet, he latches on and must know everything.  Starfire more than welcomes the attention. While she knows the Titans care for her, they’re not always… receptive to the traditions and customs of her culture. Phantom, on the other hand, is enraptured as she tells him about her culture, her holidays, the planets she’s been to, everything.

So she asks if he’d be interested in learning Tamaranean? Yes! 100%! Absolutely! Phantom picks up the language quickly and returns the favor by helping Starfire with her English. While the ability to absorb language through lips is handy, it’s by no means perfect, and Phantom helps her with things like contractions, slang, idioms, etc.

It also helps that after a couple sparring sessions with each other, Phantom and Starfire realize just how durable their partner is.  For Starfire, the people and things on Earth can be so delicate. And for Phantom, if he doesn’t watch himself and hurts a human too badly, it’s just more justification to call him an “evil ghost” that should be ripped apart molecule by molecule. Both are thrilled to finally be able to fight all out again without worrying about the consequences if they lose. And Starfire also uses it to teach Phantom some Tamaranean martial arts for aerial combat so maybe he’ll stop crashing into so many walls.

But what really changes the relationship is the Body Swap incident (not to be confused with the Freaky Friday incident). Similar to what happened with the Puppet King in Switched, Phantom and Starfire switch bodies while fighting an enemy.  Unlike what happened in Switched, Phantom and Starfire and two teen powerhouses with green energy powers triggered by emotions. And the emotional triggers they use are in the same ballpark. Starfire’s “unbridled joy of flight” to fly is very similar to how Phantom revels in the pure freedom of flight he feels. Both get angry when they use blasts. It’s very much a “if you believe in it, you can do it” kind of power set. Starfire can’t really figure out Phantom’s more ghostly abilities like invisibility or intangibility, but they very quickly adapt to each other’s shared powers on the fly during battle.  But there’s one power Starfire wants to use against the hordes of minions that Phantom won’t share the trigger for: the Ghostly Wail.  He tries to tell her it’s not a good move, that it’ll use up too much power, it should only be used as a last resort, it’ll cause too much collateral damage, etc., but Starfire wants to know, and eventually he tells her.

“T-terror… and desperation.”

Starfire rushes to give Phantom the biggest hug ever because those are such horrible feelings, and she doesn’t want to imagine what conditions must have led to him developing such a power because no one should have to feel such feelings. He is right; and that is not a power she needs to use to win this battle.  The minions are defeated, the villain is forced into a temporary retreat, and the Teen Titans return to the Tower to regroup and plan.

However, Starfire doesn’t know how to power through and hold onto Phantom’s ghostly form, and as soon as the adrenaline from the fight wears off, rings of white light spread out of her middle, and Phantom turns back into Danny in the middle of the living room.

But more importantly, everyone needs to get out of the way RIGHT NOW because while Phantom can ignore his biological needs for days, Danny can’t, and Starfire has never had to pee this badly ever in her whole life and everyone needs to MOVE, PLEASE! as she rushes into the nearest bathroom.

Phantom/Danny is now panicking, because even as an alien, he’s pretty sure she’s bound to notice that some bits of male anatomy that should be there are… missing.  He’s begging her, through the door in Tamaranean, not to tell anyone about his secret.  He’s not ready to come out yet, and he’s honestly pretty scared he’s about to lose her friendship, too.  Starfire doesn’t really care. So long as you’re a strong warrior, Tamaraneans don’t care what’s going on in someone’s pants, and she’s just relieved she didn’t have to figure out different plumbing while in his body.  Starfire opens the door.  While she knows that the people of Earth are not always as understanding, Danny need not fear her.  She will not tell anyone he's trans until he is ready to tell them himself and supports him and goes in for a hug.

Except you haven’t washed your hands; gross!  They both laugh it off, but when Starfire goes to wash her hands, the water freezes.  The cold energy in Danny’s core is building, and Starfire doesn’t know how to let it out.  They need to switch back to their own bodies soon, or Danny’s body, and Starfire, might not survive.  A little more training so Starfire can turn back into Phantom, and the Titans are ready for the final act, take down the final villain and Starfire and Phantom are back in their own bodies. 

But after that, Phantom is no longer Starfire’s friend.  Danny is her little brother, and she tells him her name is Koriand’r, or Kor’i for short.

<<Prev

[windybluebelles]

I cling to Marvel being eight foot tall more than I cling to my own real life morals. Let him be a freak guys please it’s so funny.

My idea of Captain Marvel is that he looks like C.C Batson- Duh -but in the way that Billy remembers him.

Obviously his fully human father wasn’t nearly nine feet tall and built like a truck, but when your four years old and three feet tall, your going to think that he is. Most toddlers believe that their parents are the best people in the world so of course Billy as Captain Marvel is going to look perfect. I also just fully believe that you can’t take photographs of him, camera just fully blurs his figure till all you can see is the lightning bolt, every picture drawn of him is always incorrect. Even the best painters manage to land in a weird uncanny valley with him.

Anyone who knew C.C Batson is probably long dead or just has to put up with the fact that there’s this guy wearing a wrong copy of their friends face. Sucks to be them ig

I also prefer it when the rest of the Shazamily look like kids, slightly aged up from their normal selves but still young. They all still have this weird perfectness to them that makes them not quite recognisable and they are all at like peak physical condition.

Also they’re all like 6-7 foot tall.

Just monsterously oversized teenagers. Fully proportionate, weirdly muscular, gigantic teenagers.

Gotta love em!

[honey-bitch]

Astro Observations/ramblings🪐

- With Neptune aspecting many planets - I found out that the native can have an affinity for photography/ art. - 3rd house stellium may overthink a lot, a lot if going on in their mind -3rd house Lilith are absolutely RUTHLESS, I have a friend with this placement, and it could be 8 am and she's already told me to k*ll myself 3 times. All in good humour though, these people's words are lethal. Funny enough she's a a Leo sun moon and libra rising - People don't talk how having Neptune in the 1st house is such a melancholic placement. I have it and my mum has it, I can't get a grasp on her at all and I don't think she understands me aswell. -You should definitely check your synastry with your parents. My mum's north node is conjunct my mars in cancer, and I was kinda an unexpected, and I forced her to evolve into a more kind and caring person. -Mercury conjunct MC - are seen as very intelligent. People who I have never talked to just assume that I'm very smart (which I am 😝)

- Lilith ascendant/midheaven or scorpio placements/8th house placements, may enjoy horror and are fascinated by true crime.

- Sometimes 1st house synastry doesn't result in being someone's ideal. I met a guy with Capricorn mercury and it was so frustrating to talk to this guy. Which is funny because my ASC is in Capricorn.

-Scorpio mercury may feel like wounded if they reveal too much too soon.

- Don't look at synastry charts when you're just getting into a relationship, I had a crush on this on guy and we had great synastry and I romanticised the relationship to the extreme. But then I realised... shit he doesn't like me and just because his pluto is conjunct my moon and ascendant doesn't mean he's obsessed with me etc etc. ... I have Venus in my 8th house, very painful.

Btw Dm me if u want a free reading, I might not answer but if I get time I can def do some people's charts. As long as you give me good feed back I'm open

[hernamewaslily]

-"How old is she?" RAFE CAMERON X READER

(open requests)

paring: rafe cameron x reader

warning: none

summary: you and rafe were friends since birth, you two fell in love but he cheated on you and you went away and never went to outer banks but your mother died and you went to her funeral but you didn't knew rafe and his family would be there.

Going back to Outer Banks was not a good idea and i knew it, but with my mother's death I knew I had to go, my father was in pieces so was I. I look at my one year old daughter sleeping in the back of my car, "I hope I don't see him" i think.

Me and Rafe were childhood friends since ever and 4 years ago when we started dating I knew he was the love of my life, but I was wrong, I can still remember Sofia kissing him and he hugging her:

1 year ago I was going to tell him about the pregnancy but when I saw them my heart broke and I just left Outer Banks without looking back. Had Charlotte in New York, my parents knew but I made them promise to don't talk about her to anyone.

I was not alone, I had friends in New York, I had a job at my dad's company, but the most important thing I had Charlotte. She is just like him, her strong blue eyes, her blonde hair just as soft as his, she had a strong personality just like him, it was his copy, my little chunk of my love with him.

When I got home, everything looked the same, nothing had ever changed. My father wasn't home and I soon went into my old room, I saw polaroids of Rafe and me on the wall, the presents he had given me, it looked like I had never left, everything was clean and the bed was as messy as the day I decided to leave the city behind with a baby.

Charlotte looked at the room with precision for a 1 year old baby, this year on her first birthday we came here at night to have dinner with my parents and we left early in the morning so there was no risk of Rafe knowing I had been there.

"Mama" She pointed to a teddy bear that I had gotten from Rafe on our second anniversary. I gave the bear to her, watching her reaction. My little girl hugged the bear and started laughing.

"How are you so cute" I started tickling her belly, her laughter filled the room with joy.

"Here are my girls" I looked back and my dad was leaning against the door frame with a smile despite his tired looking eyes.

"Bubu" she ran towards him and hugged his leg tightly, my father picked her up with a sad smile on his face "Hello my love" he said to her.

"The burial will be tomorrow morning" he said with a soft voice.

I nodded in agreement and we soon went to dinner.

In my dream, Rafe laughed with me in my room, "If we have a daughter, her name will be Charlotte." He said looking at my eyes

"Why that name?"

"I don't know, love, I just like it." And he hugged me softly.

I woke up confused with my daughter in the crib next to me.

The route to the funeral was silent, I just thought about how I wished my mother was here. She was very sick and cancer took her from us, my father said that at least he had ended her suffering and pain during those years.

I got out of the car with Charlotte and her teddy bear by my side, her dress was black with a big bow on her side and I was with the same dress. There were few people at the funeral but since my mother was a pogue there were many of her pogue friends and I saw John B's group right at the top of the stairs JJ looked at me and smiled. The day was beautiful but it seemed unfair because my mother had died but I knew that the weather was a message from her telling me that she was okay.

My father picked Charlotte up and they went in first and I was just working up the courage to go in while praying not to see him. The crowd had already left and I started to enter the house near the beach where my mother's funeral would be.

Until someone bumped into me, I knew that scent but I didn't want to believe it, there it was. Rafe was wearing a black suit, his eyes got bigger when he saw me and he seemed to want to say something but he couldn't, he was in complete shock to see me after 1 year without news.

"Um-oh hi-" he was interrupted by my daughter screaming mommy when she saw me, Charlotte asked to be held by me and I picked her up. Rafe looked at her holding the teddy bear with confusion, his head turned to the side and so did my daughter's, they looked at each other as if in a mirror.

"Mama" my daughter tried to go to rafe's lap who was in complete shock.

"Charlotte no baby you can't" when he heard his name rafe he felt like he was going to faint

"Charlotte? wh-who is this?"

I had thought about this conversation for a long time but nothing came out of my mouth, I always thought that I could call Rafe and tell him everything and we could become a happy family like we dreamed of but I couldn't say anything.

"Rafe, c'mon your father is asking about you-oh hi" There she was, Sofia look at me with disgust and confusion, but when she saw the baby in my arms she just looked at Rafe looking for some answer as to who that was.

"How old is she?" Rafe asked with a weak voice and tears in his eyes, I could tell he knew the answer but wanted to hear it from me. Before I could answer, my father appeared in the hall and understood what was happening.

"Where were you, let's go is going to start" My father grabbed my hand and took me while I was in complete shock and Charlotte was crying wanting to go to Rafe's arms.

I just walked away and left a confused Rafe with his eyes closed as if he was holding himself back from crying.

"Fuck" was the only thing that crossed my mind.

part 2? I had this idea on the subway on the way to school and i had to write it! let me know if you guys want pt 2💞

[endearng]

Brave

Pairing: Spencer Reid x single mom!reader Summary: You're left all alone, but now you can think of some you want to share your solitude — and food — with. WC: 5.9k (I am so sorry) Warnings: brief mentions of Penelope's parents arch, grief and depression. A/N: Hello! I struggled so much trying to find time to finish this one. Let me know what you guys think! Feedbacks are highly appreciated! neighbor!au masterlist | main masterlist

Honestly, hearing your name leaving someone's lip usually made Spencer eager to know what was going on, if it involved you — of course, he knew that you shared it with many people, after all, there are 8 billion people existing at the same time, so he could definitely come up with statistics regarding how many of them shared names with you. Furthermore, he worked with humans, dealing constantly with their data, names included, so yours could definitely be pronounced by someone close to him.

He just didn't expect to hear a chant. Something about you and him sitting in a tree as Penelope approached him in the bullpen kitchenette.

"What was that?" He asked, eyes wide, once he heard Penelope's voice. She snickered.

She repeated the chant.

"Garcia!" His voice came out in a squeak, frantically looking around. "Shut up!" It wasn't in his nature to be so rude, but he was desperate for her to be quiet, especially because someone could hear her.

Emily, apparently coming from thin air, creeped up on them. "Spencer and who?"

"G—ah! Nobody!" He jumped from where he was standing, not expecting someone else to join them anytime soon, almost spilling his coffee.

"I caught our boygenius with a friend." Penelope announced, proud of her discovery.

"What?" Emily asked, shocked.

Once Penelope noticed that she revealed something she certainly should not have and she saw the look on his face, she slapped her hand over her mouth, wide eyes looking at Spencer in an apologizing manner. She was just so excited to finally see Spencer in that scenario that she basically ignored his wishes to keep it — whatever it was — a secret. "Thanks a lot, Garcia," he deadpanned.

"What? What friend?" Emily pressed, a smile on her lips. Not teasing, surprised, perhaps, but she didn't have any traces of mockery in her expression or tone. She looked... proud?

Penelope had started feeling bad for running her mouth too easily, but once she saw Spencer's lips turn upwards in a small grin, she gushed, "Yes!!! I went over to her house to give her daughter's gift, I am her godmother, after all... So I was knocking on her door—”

"More like banging." He interrupted.

"And from my spot, I see our boygenius not so subtly trying to disguise something. Do not look at me like that," she squinted her eyes and pointed her finger at him threateningly when he opened his mouth to speak. "You were stuttering and basically left her all by herself because you got too embarrassed."

"Oh, no, Reid..." Emily couldn't help her remark, pursing her lips.

"What? What did I do?"

Truth was, Spencer was replaying the interaction in his head the entire time after Penelope had left. He had stood there, at the sidewalk, dumbfounded and mortified by her remarks in your presence, not really knowing if he should go back to your apartment. He was definitely enjoying getting to know you, but it just felt wrong to go back and act as if nothing had happened because he had just gotten awfully weird. The man had struggled with himself, his thoughts conflicting between going back to yours or keeping to himself in his apartment. He decided on the latter, not willing to put himself through more embarrassment.

What if you didn't like him like that and you thought he was a creep now? What if you just saw him as a friend?

Worse, as a neighbor?

"You should've stayed. I know you probably got nervous, but what if she got the wrong idea once you dashed out the door when you were seen with her?" Emily inquired, but Penelope, despite not being a profiler, understood right away that she was onto something.

Her eyes glimmered.

Spencer's stomach dropped. "Oh, no..." he whispered softly. "I have to go."

And he basically fled the room.

The women exchanged playful glances.

"I knew it!" Penelope stated. She turned her head in the direction he ran to. "For a profiler, for a genius, he sometimes is so dumb."

"And just like that," Emily snapped her fingers, "IQ of 187 slashed down to 60." she snickered. Reaching for the coffee pot and pouring some of the liquid into her mug, she remarked, "There is definitely something," Emily laughed. "Do you think we should help him?"

"Don't worry," she winked at her friend, "I've got a few ideas."

Later that day, you got a call from Garcia. You were in your car, taking deep breaths and willing yourself not to cry out of frustration. The work shift had finished, officially, nearly an hour ago, but your boss held you back to discuss some projects that you were involved in. You had to call your dad to ask him kindly to pick up your daughter at school — you didn't see it coming, so you called him after about an hour of Olivia waiting by herself at school.

The unexpected meeting made you incredibly late and it turned your mood sour, because you always loved the car rides with Olivia after you picked her up, not to mention that she probably thought you had forgotten about her. Never. You had just started the engine when you heard your phone ring. You put her on speaker as you drove to your parents to pick up your daughter, who was now there. "Hi, Pen!" You greeted.

Despite the disaster, a smile crept up on your face when you remembered the last interaction you had with her. With Spencer…

"Hi, sweetcheeks!" She said back. You could hear the faint sounds of computers and keys being pressed in the background. "How are you?"

"I'm good, I guess. I had a surprise meeting so I couldn't get Olivia," you replied, eyes on the road ahead of you. "How are you, Pen?"

"Oooh, I'm sorry that happened. I know you're probably berating yourself for it, but it's okay, it wasn't your fault." She tried to lighten up.

"Yeah..." You muttered, a certain tightness in your chest you couldn't keep at bay.

"She'll understand. You are doing a fantastic job showing her the real world." Penelope comforted you. You blinked away emotional tears, grateful that the roads were calm and you weren't a reckless driver. You couldn't really speak, so she continued, "Actually, she is the main reason I called you." She revealed, making you chuckle wetly. "I really miss Olivia and I'm truly sorry I missed her birthday. I haven't been the best godmother in the world..."

"Don't worry about it." You dismissed it. "I always tell her you're a tech fairy who does magic with computers to save people. A real life hero," you chuckled. "She understands it." You whispered. Trying to keep that feeling in. Not sure if you were speaking to her or to yourself.

"I know, but, still..." She retorted softly.

Penelope frequently complimented you and Olivia. You tried your best to raise her to be a good, kind and smart person. Unbeknownst to Penelope, her comments made you remind you of right after you were left all alone with your daughter. The tech analyst didn't hear a word from you for days, but once she visited you and saw the place without a single trace of Olivia's dad, she understood it all. You kept silent, still trying to adapt to a world where you were lonely again. Despite the odds and unwillingness to open up to her, you kept talking to your daughter, even if she didn't truly understand it all. From her early years, you made sure to provide her everything she needed to speak like she does now.

Your own personal chatterbox.

A titter broke through you, "I sure hope so." You replied, rubbing your eyes at a red light. "I also hope you know I'm driving and I can't cry right now," you joked.

"Ah, right! Sorry, baby!" She exclaimed clumsily, true Penelope style. "All of this to ask if I can spend some time with her on... on Friday! Yes!" She paused and then continued.

"Friday?" You asked, uncertain. "That's usually when we go out together."

"Yeah, and I'm sorry for taking it away from you, it's just that I..." second pause on her speech, "I wanna make it up for missing her birthday and I seriously hope that creepy guys give me a break so that I can spend some time with our Oli girl." She finished.

Still uncertain and the tiniest bit jealous, you relented. "Okay, Pen. May I ask you where you are taking her?"

"Well... it's a surpr—we are going to an amusement park!" She paused and then squealed and you could hear clapping.

You snickered, joking along, "It's your funeral."

"I'll die a happy woman. That's all, sweetcheeks! Thank you so much! Gotta go. Prrr."

And just like that, she hung up on you. Little did you know, she and Emily Prentiss high-fived and made ridiculous noises to celebrate the execution of their mastermind plan taking shape.

Penelope Garcia, the singular rollercoaster of emotions that you are.

Back in the bullpen, Spencer focused on his reports — not that it was a difficult task, but he felt cornered by Emily's outlook from earlier. Had he done the wrong thing? If he did, could he fix it? He wasn't the most experienced man in the world when it came to dating and women in general. He was on the brink of insanity, nearly going up to Hotch for advice. He ruled out Morgan immediately because he knew he couldn't get tips from someone who would definitely tease him, in a manner that felt lowkey demeaning.

Spencer had a lot of insecurities, and being socially awkward in his mid-twenties was one of them. Next to Morgan, he felt like a fourteen-year-old who didn't even know how to properly say hi to people. He needed some words from someone who understood him.

But who did?

Wrapping up one of his reports, his phone beeped.

Come to my lair. Treats are on the table :)

Penelope

Cautiously approaching the door, like there was a bomb inside, Spencer opened the door to Penelope's office. "Okay, so I know you were upset and maybe you still are a little because I spilled your... um... moment to Emily but I wanted to say sorry and ask you to please not be mad at me. I was just excited for you and I knew Emily would be, too." She blabbered once he closed the door behind him.

His ears turned pink and he tried playing it cool by reaching for one of the cookies that were in a bowl. "It's okay, Garcia. I was upset for a moment, but I know you didn't mean it."

She smiled. "Glad to hear that! Thank you, Reid."

He leaned his body on the desk adjacent to her, crossing his arms over his chest. He cleared his throat. "So, um, how do you know her?"

"We met in college. She had my back when my parents... you know."

A pause. He hated that he, sometimes, lacked the sensitivity to approach people and that, despite being brightly intelligent, often missed possible outcomes for more personal conversations.

"I'm... I'm sorry I asked. I know it can be a delicate topic." He offered her a sympathetic smile, even though he was berating himself on the inside.

"It's okay. Thank you." Garcia smiled. "She always checked on me, made sure I was eating properly, that I wasn't... harming myself... She even went over to my dorm to tidy everything when I was too depressed to get out of bed." She took a deep breath. "I swear, Spencer. She was there. And we had just met." She finished, softly.

If Spencer admired the person you were before, now he was almost tongue tied, not having the wits to come up with a comment of his own. It truly shocked him, because, one: his experience with college kids had been totally different, of course, but two: what kind of person goes out of their way, even when dealing with their personal burdens, to help someone they just met?

Garcia searched his face. A small smile on her lips starkly contrasted with her crestfallen eyes. "Shortly after her graduation, she got married and, later, pregnant with Olivia. I was still around, on and off. I joined the FBI and had less and less time to hang out, but I always had and always will have a soft spot for her. She was there for me."

He couldn't help but want to know more. He knows it should be better to learn about you from you, but, right now, he was handed an opportunity he couldn't deprive himself from grasping, "Wow. That's-That's a lot of history." He said, in a low voice, a little hesitant.

"Yes. And you will know much, much more." Penelope said, confident tone lacing her words.

"Why do I sense you're onto something?" He inquired, brows furrowing with worry.

"Because I am." She winked at him.

Oh, no.

"What?"

"Trust me on this one, loverboy." She snickered.

Penelope Garcia, the mess you'll make.

Friday rolled around with promises of a certain blonde bringing your daughter home by 9p.m. The feeling almost made you feel like a possessive mother who didn't let their kids have boyfriends. Or girlfriends. You were fine with it, by the way. Either. You just weren't currently fine with the idea of spending time away from her.

You reluctantly let Olivia go. Penelope stood behind her in your living room. You were crouching down to your daughter's height.

"Mommy, I'll be back before you know it," she said. Just like you did when she was first getting adapted to going to school. You scrunched your face, feeling like the most loved person in the whole universe.

You were.

"I'll bring you cotton candy." She promised, raising her pinky in front of you. You crossed your own with hers.

"Now you're just bribing me." You leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Is it working?" Penelope chirped in, an easy smile on her face.

You giggled, looking up at her for a moment. "Maybe..."

"Mommy loves you, okay?" You said. "I promise I can take you somewhere even cooler than aunt Garcia is taking you," you joked.

"Now you're just being mean," the woman frowned playfully.

"Yeah, mom! Don't be mean."

"I can't believe you're turning my own daughter against me. And she's scolding me. In my own house." You feigned offense. Garcia burst out in laughter with Olivia.

Two kids in your living room.

"Okay, mommy," she said, finally, giving you a kiss on each of your cheeks, just like you did with her. "Bye bye. Say bye bye to Aunt Penelope, too."

"Okay," you agreed. "Bye bye, Aunt Penelope." you teased. Olivia was already walking out, ahead of you two.

"Bye bye, mommy." Penelope joked as you walked her out. Olivia pressed the elevator button as you and Garcia stood in front of your apartment, side by side with you, watching your kid wait for the elevator. Then, she looked you up and down, a knowing look on her face.  "You're totally a hot mommy." She winked.

You didn't have an answer to that, the remark catching you off guard. Instead, you shoved her jokingly.

"Get outta here," you quipped, flustered, watching her as she entered the elevator with Olivia, holding her small hand.

You waved as the elevator doors closed. You sighed when they were out of your eyesight.

Coming back to your place, you looked around in hopes to find something to entertain yourself with. Truth was that without your daughter, you felt a little lost. Sometimes, you'd get lost in your own head, too sick with worry about losing yourself in order to be sufficient for Olivia. The remedy for those thoughts were usually doing something on your own for yourself. Tonight, you decided to cook something.

After a quick trip to the local supermarket and some embarrassment on the self-checkout cashier, you made it back to your home with everything needed to make pasta from scratch. Maybe you got a little excited by literally having your hands dirty and made enough pasta to feed the entire apartment complex. You cut them in different sizes and shapes and cursed your dad for a moment for having taught you your way around food.

Giving it a better thought, seeing your kitchen with pasta hanging to dry everywhere, maybe it was an opportunity. You turned the thought of feeding the families who surrounded you to simply feeding Spencer.

You smiled at yourself, pleased with the idea.

One, two, three eager knocks on Spencer's doors made him interrupt his Doctor Who's weekly (if no bad guys were forcing him to work) marathon. He looked through the peephole and found you, his neighbor, studying his door, probably to avoid looking directly into the hole, like it was an intricate work of art. A smile crept upon his face. He never thought he'd be so happy to be interrupted. Opening the door, he greeted, "Hi!"

A joyful "Hi!" was your answer.

You took a minute to look at him. He looked more relaxed, of course, but you came to the conclusion that he didn't own many casual clothes, because he was dressed in a dark blue Caltech sweatshirt and slacks. Funny matching, but it worked for you. Differently from what you usually saw him dressed in, he didn't appear so tired. He was glowing.

"Um, do you need anything?" He asked politely, scrunching his brows a little bit in concern as your silence became too long.

A sliver of doubt crossed through your features. "I'm not interrupting you, am I?"

"No, not at all." He lied.

He'd take your interruptions at any time.

"Oh, that's great. It's just... I miscalculated the amount of pasta that I was um... making." You struggled to find the words, a little mesmerized by the simple act of looking at him. "Do you want to, um, do you want to have some? With me? I've been told I'm good at cooking." You finally asked, with a little convincing on top.

Not that he needed any. You had him at hi. Spencer felt disarmed.

"Yes. I-I'd love to."

"Great!" You cheered. "Come on. You can help me cut them once they dry a little bit."

He followed you into your apartment. Today, the atmosphere felt a lot different. You had music playing softly and the highlight was in the kitchen, where strings of pasta hanged from basically everywhere. There was still a small piece of dough on the surface of your kitchen counter, which was surrounded by a big, sharp knife, a pasta maker machine and some other kitchen gadgets that, surprisingly, Spencer didn't know the name of.

"Wow. It's really a lot." He thought out loud.

"Yeah," you chuckled. "I usually make small amounts, but there's no problem in freezing them." You said, glancing briefly at your watch.

"Oh, okay." He replied meekly. "I'm not so sure if I can help, though. I'm not very good at cooking."

"No!" You feigned exaggerated surprise.

"Yes," he quipped, furrowing his brows playfully.

"But you have to work for it." You deadpanned, looking him dead in the eye. "I tricked you. I only called you here so you'd help me with it. If you don't, you won't get pasta."

He raised both hands, joining your banter. Easily. Despite, despite, despite. "No problem. I like learning."

You scrunch your face, giving him the most adorable grin. "Okay, doctor. So, this small ball here," you said, pointing at the dough and rolling up your sleeves, "needs to rest for a few minutes. It needs to dry a little bit to make cutting it easier. I'll tell you how to do it once you have an apron on."

"Oh, sorry, I don't have any at home. I don't really cook." He mentioned it again.

"I thought so." You grinned. "But don't worry about it. I have a collection. My dad's a chef and everything he gives me as a casual gift is related to cooking" you chuckled.

Okay, so the miscalculated amount was definitely an excuse to have him with you. His heart felt like giving out at any minute. You wanted him there. It was almost like you had it all planned out, and Spencer watched as you moved around your kitchen so confidently and calmly, very much unlike his mind that was running miles per second. Spencer usually had a hard time calming down, but this, this was something else. He was alone with you and he didn't even know how to say anything. Simultaneously proud and jealous of your easygoing chatter, he decided that it was better to follow your lead and try not to be awkward around you than doing anything else.

Slowly being pulled out of his self-conscious and overall sad thoughts, he busied himself with watching you, instead. He smiled to himself. Again, despite, despite, despite. You grabbed an apron from one of your drawers and Spencer watched you quietly. You moved so effortlessly that he felt inclined to just sit and watch you in your own scene. In that moment, you were not Olivia's mother, not a character from a novel he imagined, not a publisher, not Garcia's friend from college, just a woman doing something she enjoys doing. And he was delighted to be present to see it.

Moving back to where he stood, you stopped in front of him. You held it out in front of you, almost waiting for his permission to get closer. Spencer nodded eagerly and you smiled. You put the apron over his head and he raised his arms, almost automatically, so you could wrap yours around him to tie it in the back, bodies mere inches away from one another. He somehow had the courage to watch your face the entire time, but you bashfully avoided his gaze, choosing to concentrate on the task at hand. Once you finished, you looked up at him, though. To offer him a smile.

But what caught his attention was the fact that he finally knew, now, what the color of your eyes were. They seemed a lot different than when he first saw you. Different shades swirled around your pupils in such harmony that he decided that, from then on, he'd associate these colors with you and with you only. You aimed your gaze at him with something so distinguished he couldn't quite decipher what it was, suddenly and momentarily losing his profiling abilities. Spencer knew immediately that he could never shake that moment from his memory. Then, he also noticed that you had a smudge of flour on your cheek, but he didn't have the heart to tell you to clean it up, too stuck in the warmth of your gaze. He thought of it as a reminder of what you were doing, the moment you were sharing together.

He smiled back at you.

"Okay, I guess that's it, then," you announced, voice barely above a whisper, finally. He felt both relieved and deprived from the sweet torture you put him in. He wanted to be under your spell for longer, but he worried he would be too entranced and make a fool out of himself. "First, I'm gonna divide it in half. Oh, wait. What do you want to eat? I have shrimp, chicken and minced meat. But I can also try to do something vegetarian if you don't eat meat." You blabbered inconsistently, jumping from one topic to another, our eyebrows flying to your forehead in concern for a moment.

"It's okay," he soothed you, "I'll have anything." He added softly.

You happily nodded at him. "Alright. So I'm gonna be a good teacher and tell you to use the machine to open it first, but a cook must be skilled enough to know how to open and cut pasta without one of these gems," you said.

He grinned. Cooking classes were not in his weekend bingo, but here he was. Not wishing for anything else. "I'm glad you're walking me through it." He said. "I can hardly boil an egg."

"What? I couldn't tell." You said, faking earnestness, while opening a piece of dough with a roller. You had your eyes on it, rolling the dough on the counter to make sure you'd open it completely. He was mesmerized by your focused expression. Looking at your skilled hands. Watching.

"Really?" He asked, lighting up.

"Yeah, I could. Sorry." You said, snickering, folding the dough on itself to start cutting it. The result was thicker strings of pasta, like fettuccine. "You look like the kind of guy who only eats outside."

"I am." He confided, trying to mimic your previous actions. "Maybe you're the profiler."

"Nah, just a real observant neighbor." He laughed. "Hey, you're doing alright." You told him once you saw what he was doing. Your stare was on his hands. Oh. His deft hands, albeit not accustomed to the task, worked dexterously, flexing the veins on his forearm. You shook your head lightly as an attempt to get rid of the thoughts, glad he wasn't paying attention to you.

Being with you, he realized, was easy. He condemned himself for overthinking the advice Penelope had given him earlier about asking you out today, because she planned on taking Olivia out. He had decided not to under the excuse that a case might pop at any second, but the truth was he was too afraid to be rejected. 

"Okay, so you can open the dough, Doctor. Good job!" You teased as you watched him use the machine instead of the rolling pin like you did.

"I'm decent at it, yeah," he quipped.

Spencer Reid being able to take and to crack jokes about himself. He decided then that he liked jokes, he liked your banter, but because you weren't mean to him.

Something in him finally started to heal.

"Alright." You placed yourself beside him. He gulped at the closeness. "See how I'm doing with my hands." Was it appropriate to answer that he hadn't looked away not even for a second? "You wanna fold it over and over. Careful not to stick it, though, so be gentle. You can use a little flour to help you. Wanna give it a try?"

He only nodded and you helped him fold it. He wasn't as skillful as you were — hell, your movements seemed rehearsed from how much ease you had at doing them. He was a little slower, but he moved in an effective way. "Careful not to cut yourself, Spencer." You whispered to him, to which he hummed weakly.

"Is there a right way to hold the knife?" He asked, turning his head to look at you.

Your reply was to touch his right hand, the one holding the knife, and closed his fingers around its base. Grabbing his left hand, you curled his fingers on top of the dough, and, slowly, pushed the knife down to cut it. "See?" You pulled the cut dough, revealing a string.

He wondered hastily if he could have some more time with your hands on top of his. Your delicate hands, even dirty, beat every single texture he had felt on top of his. Spencer couldn't answer anything. "Okay! Now we can set them to dry."

"Where?" He asked, robotically. You grinned.

"We gotta find somewhere." You chuckled. "By the way, it's best if we keep them away from the others." You advised.

"Why is that?" He inquired, intrigued look on his face.

"I, um, made some with eggs, you know, the traditional one." You bit your lip. "I also made a recipe with no eggs in case you had any restrictions."

Usually, he'd be speechless, not used to being treated like this. Not being one people usually thought of so intentionally, so dearly, so full of carefully. He noticed, though, that as he spent time with you in your kitchen, every one of your actions peeled away some of his issues. Then, "Oh, wow." He said, a hint of a cocky expression dancing around his features. If you kept that attitude, he might even become greedy. He remembered about your so-called miscalculation for the second time.

You finished up the meal in an instant, too fast for Spencer's liking. He was observant, of course, and you made sure to tell him about what you were doing and why you were doing every step of the way, like he was a child acquiring language. He was a grown man learning how to be around you, studying your every movement and engraving it to his memory, trying harder than he ever did when learning English (or other languages). Those came to him naturally. You, on the other hand, were full of patterns he didn't quite know yet — not that he wasn't dying to.

"Okay. We're done." You said, softly, plating the meal on two white plates. "Do you want to sit with me on the balcony?"

"Yes."

"Be there in a second. Make yourself at home."

His face lit up. Joy and embarrassment fighting to control him.

As he left with the plates in hand, which was a little funny to you, you cleaned up the mess in the kitchen as much as you could. You glanced at Spencer, meticulously placing the plates on the table to help you out. You couldn't control the sigh that made its way out of you, out of the very depths of your being.

Sitting down with him after you both ate to your heart's content, he complimented you. "It's not very often that I get to eat this well." He chuckled. "And you're a good chef. You make things efficiently and neatly." He said, looking at you. You looked straight ahead, longingly, into the city.

You shrunk your shoulders, a little embarrassed. Was he flirting? His words were completely different from what you used to consider flirting. Too analytical, too technical. "Thanks!" You exclaimed, albeit meekly.

Silence.

Spencer was rummaging through his big brain for something to say. You were, sort of, deflating from basically carrying the interaction all night long. Letting too many thoughts consume you all at once. "I'm not really an interesting person, so I'm not sure what I should say," he chuckled, a little disappointed by having your attention somewhere else.

Your heart probably doubled in size.

You crossed your legs on the chair. "I think you are an interesting person," you said softly, looking at him. "And I think there's no shame in being silent. It's nice. I know you like it."

His heart was making somersaults in his chest.

"Yeah..." he chuckled. “But I’d like to talk to you.”

"Try me! Penny said you can do magic, good ice-breaker. It's so nice, but so baffling!" You gushed. "I can't even do the classic trick, that one that you're supposed to be pretending to pull your thumb off. Olivia says I'm not convincing enough." You laughed, shooking your head and squinting at him. "Can you believe that?"

"She's a very bright kid." He said, amused. "It must be hard tricking her."

"Yeah, it is."

"Where is she, by the way?"

"Penelope asked to take her out. Pasta time was supposed to be time spent with her. But I guess you're a good substitute."

Again, Penelope was onto something. That was when he knew for sure that his theory from earlier was correct.

"Can I tell you something?" He decided to be honest, instead.

"Is everything alright?" You ask, searching his face for something that told you if there was something wrong.

"Yes! Yes! Everything's fine." He blurted. "It's just that, earlier, Penelope was, ahem, encouraging me to ask you out on a... date. I kept thinking about it and maybe I actually overthinked everything and ended up making excuses not to ask you out.”

You were taken aback by his words. You blinked once, not expecting his words, those words, and failing at trying to slow the racing of your heart and at stopping the smile creeping up on your face. “It's… it's no problem. Don't worry.”

Spencer couldn't help but glance over, listening attentively to your reply. Your words struck a softer tone, a side of you that was filled with warmth and genuine affection — he was estranged to it, not being used to being so understood. It caught him off guard. He watched from his seat, his heart still aching from feeling scared, but filled with a new emotion he couldn't quite pinpoint yet. “Would you, um, would you say yes?”

“To what?” You faked coyness, but you knew he could see right through you. You weren’t a good actress.

He smirked, encouraged by your playful mannerisms. “If I asked you on a date.”

“Well, yes.”

Oh, so it was bravery. He felt it completely, now.

A deep breath from his end. “Would you like to go out with me?”

“There's nothing I would want more.” You replied, tone full of mischief, but your eyes held all the truth he needed to confirm that he was actually going to spend time with you in a more… romantic, perhaps private setting. “Does that count as a yes?”

Spencer was hyper-aware of himself and his reality. Therefore, used to his own little life and the trauma and suffering that came with it, he had grown accustomed to the thought that romance was far out of his reach—  stories only told by books and didn’t, couldn’t exist in real life, in his life; writers were just too idealistic. Thus, being used to those thoughts, but secretly refusing to take them as the sole truth of his life, romance came to him in the shape of silly scenarios to help him fall asleep. Now, he was suddenly changing his mind, relieved to see that it could be real.

He was immensely glad for your bravery. He wanted some of it. Needed, even.

“It's the prettiest yes someone has ever said to me.”

“Glad to hear that, Spencer.”

“I just feel a little embarrassed by not having the courage to ask you earlier.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, again, with an adoring look in your eyes, gazing at him, “we can share courage when things get too much.”

“Hey!” Olivia greeted once Spencer opened his door after her persistent, but gentle knocking. He looked around, but you were nowhere to be found. He crouched down to her height. “Here’s a sticker. Mommy said you were very brave last night.” She placed the adhesive on his vest, a star shaped sticker. “Here’s other sticker. Mommy also said you were helpful.” She said, adorning his vest once again.

Oh, my God, he thought, even her daughter knows.

He chuckled, not having it in himself to let the opportunity to joke go. “Oh, so we get rewards for good behavior?”

Olivia nodded. “Yes, we do. When I get five, mommy gets me something I want. Usually cookies.” She replied, sounding satisfied with herself.

“Thank you, Olivia. I'm gonna make sure to keep them so I'll know when it's time to ask for my gift.” He said, ruffling her hair playfully.

At the conference room, Aaron Hotchner couldn't help but frown at the sight of the extra accessories on one of his agents’ vest, almost interrupting his briefing in order to address the topic to quench his curiosity. “Reid, why do you have star stickers on?”

He shrugged, failing at disguising his happiness, the corners of his lips curving up. “These were a gift.”

He was brave.

[venomnyx]

FAVOURS - Josh Washington x F!Reader AO3 // Playlist

WORD COUNT - 5.2k SUMMARY - The Washingtons invite you to stay with them in their lodge over the summer while you heal from a rough breakup with who you thought was the love of your life. One warm evening, when Josh teaches you to smoke for the first time, he offers you a mutually beneficial proposition that you find impossible to resist. TAGS/WARNINGS - female pronouns and anatomy, best friends older brother, recreational drug use (weed smoking), shitty ex-boyfriend, candid conversations, sexual proposition, friends with benefits (with feelings?), sneaking around, oral (fem receiving), outdoor sex, dialogue-heavy, not beta read NOTES - i need this man carnally.

prequel to the fool card, can be read as a standalone fic

The lodge runs cold this time of night, even in the summer.

You tip-toe down the hallway, sneaking past the twin’s bedroom, arms wrapped around your middle as goose pimples drift on your arms. A soft slip of pink light drifts through the underbelly of their door, and, warmed by nostalgia, you fondly remember that Hannah never liked sleeping in the dark.

The stairs creak as you make your way to the kitchen. The varnished wood of the bannister feels glossy and cool beneath your tentative fingertips, steadying your gentle footsteps so as not to disturb anybody.

The expansive windows stretch the further you walk into the main living area, overlooking the mountains. It’s a daunting sensation to realise you’re so small and insignificant, sucked in by the misty rocks and endless snow, ribboned with twilight shades of silver and blue. You quietly wonder what mysteries lay beyond, stretching out in haunting invitation.

His voice comes out of nowhere. “You lost?”

“Jesus, Josh. Scared the shit out of me.” Your voice is a sharp whisper, but the narrowed-eye look you shoot him only makes him laugh— a warm rumbly thing that makes your chest flutter.

“Sorry,” he says, but his mischievous tone is anything but. He glances you up and down. “Cute PJ’s. What’re you doin’ up?”

You suddenly feel exposed in your pyjamas, a little slip of black silk shorts and a matching vest.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you scowl, crossing your arms over your chest after fiddling with the thin strap on your shoulder. “I couldn’t sleep. I just needed some water.”

You pause, hesitating as if waiting for him to say something.

His smile grows almost imperceptibly, time dragging like slow honey drips as he drinks in your bashful fidgeting and challenges your fast-slipping eye contact.

Eventually, he nods directionally without his gaze leaving you. “Kitchens that way,” he says, and the tension bubble pops between you.

You roll your eyes. “I know, asshole. I practically live here.”

He grins. “That so?” He calls after you as you walk away, mock surprise in his tone. “Guess I never noticed you before.”

You stick your finger up over your shoulder, but there suddenly isn’t a trace of cold in your body.

“Hey, you wanna join me outside for a bit?” Josh asks, peeking his head through the door as you sip your water. “Place gets kinda lonely at night.”

His voice remains low, unconvinced— like he’s not sure you’ll agree. You’re not entirely sure you should. You and Josh aren’t exactly close— friends, sure, but only through his sisters, but his invitation feels warm, not awkward.

Moments later, after brief deliberation and realising you have nothing to lose, you follow him through the side door, the midnight summer air a balm to your skin.

He’s leaning over the balcony railing, eyes cast over the mountain treetops. A thin line of pungent smoke curls up from between his fingers and disappears.

He turns to you with a raised brow when he notices you watching. “Busted,” he says, smirking softly as he lifts the joint to his mouth. “You gonna rat me out to my parents?”

You roll your eyes. “Who’d believe me?”

He laughs, gesturing toward you and offering the joint without preamble. You freeze, hoping to not look like a total loser, but Josh catches your hesitation with perceptive eyes.

“What, never done this before?”

“Honestly? No,” you answer, trying to fight the warmth on your face.

“Really?” He grins, eyes sparkling. “Wouldn’t have expected that from you.”

“Go ahead, laugh it up,” you roll your eyes, crossing your arms defensively. “I never cared to get around to it.”

His grin softens, holding it out to you, cherry-tipped and releasing smoke in gentle waves. “First time for everything?”

You take it off of him, deciding why not. You try mirroring his movements before, drawing in a shallow breath, figuring it works just like smoking a cigarette. The smoke, sharp and unfamiliar, stabs as it reaches your throat. You cough reflexively, flushing as you sputter.

“Oh, God— that sucks.”

He laughs fondly, somehow making you feel a little less embarrassed, and gently takes it from your fingers, leading you over to the plush outdoor bench. A hand on your shoulder as you both sit.

“First times always rough. You gotta do it slower— just- just relax, alright? It’s not a big deal. I’ll show you.”

You swallow, watching as he demonstrates, pulling in a slow drag and letting it fill his lungs before releasing it. There’s something almost hypnotic in the way he does it, so comfortable and at ease, like he did this all the time alone and you had no idea. He hands it over to you, guiding your hand around it carefully, his fingers brushing yours, lingering just a beat longer than they have to.

“Start small— just enough to get the feel.”

Warm under his watchful stare, you try to follow his instructions. You find it’s easier this way, only a slight burn as it passes your throat, gentle when you exhale, if a little irritating. His smile grows.

“There you go,” he praises, clapping your shoulder once before releasing you. “Doesn’t suck so bad, does it?”

“Sure, whatever,” you say, handing it back to him. He only half-chuckles at your dismissal, not put off in the slightest.

The silence settles comfortably, interrupted only by the soft hiss and flicker of the joint as he inhales. He tilts his head, watching the smoke disappear into the night air, expression distant. Thoughtful, like something crosses his mind.

“You and your boyfriend broke up?” He asks with a squint.

You peer over at him, holding onto your shins as you tuck your knees into your chest. “You know about that?”

“Sure. My sisters gossip,” he says, and you swear his eyes give you a once-over when he hands you the joint. “You were together for a long stretch, huh? You wanna talk about it?”

You take a hit, letting the smoke sit whilst you take a moment to hesitate. Josh isn’t exactly your confidant, but there’s something about the late-night, the quiet vulnerability of your interactions, that tempts you to lower your guard.

With an exhale, “It’s… not worth your time.”

He remains steady, sincere. “Try me.”

You sigh through your nose, staring at the sky above as if gathering strength.

“Well, I loved him, but he went to college, hooked up with another girl in the first week. A… mutual friend.”

“Oof.” He releases a low whistle. “Bummer.”

You frown sourly, gaze cast downwards. “Same old story.”

“You don’t have to say that… you seem upset about it,” he observes.

“I’m over it,” you say quickly, defensively. Tense shoulders when you speak. “I mean, I’m over him. He’s… whatever.”

He lounges back, sensing there’s more to the story. “But…”

“I think I’m just more angry with myself because I already felt like I was doing charity work,” you admit after a beat of consideration. “You give the ugly-funny guy a chance and he suddenly thinks he’s some…” you trail off, laughing bitterly. “He was so insecure, you know? Hated that I hung out with guys like you and Matt and— ugh. He was my first love, my first— …he’s not even worth the breath. Wasn’t even a good fuck.”

His eyebrows flash up. “Oh?”

Instantly mortified, you place your hands over your warm face, head swimming behind your closed eyes. “Oh my god, just forget I said that—”

“No, no—” he struggles to speak between bursts of laughter. A quick cough into his fist to compose himself. “Nothing wrong with being… open. Honesty is good.”

You groan, but the weed dulls the blade edge of your humiliation, making it manageable. It doesn’t quite cut your fingers when you hold it. A giggle escapes you from the ridiculousness of it— a light thing that seems to shake some of the weight off your shoulders, like blowing dust off an old book.

“I don’t know why I said that,” you mutter, eyes teary from laughing despite yourself. “It’s probably just the weed talking. Don’t laugh, Josh.”

“I’m not laughing!” He insists, but the teeth-flashing grin says he’s full of amusement.

You shoot him a glare and he laugh-yells when you swing for him with a bench pillow.

“Hey! I feel sorry for you, if anything. Never had him show you a good time.”

“We had good… times,” you say, but your tone fails.

“Uh-huh,” he responds, unconvinced. “Sounds like ugly-funny guy wasn’t all that.”

You drag your hands down your face. “Okay, fine. Honestly, no— he wasn’t. He barely paid attention. Like I was just… there.”

There’s something cathartic about it, opening up to the person you never thought you’d be having this kind of conversation with. It’s hard, with the twins— Beth isn’t exactly romantic, and Hannah’s all rose-tinted glasses. Josh’s perspective is… different. Refreshing. Exciting?

“That blows,” he shrugs. “Guess you got unlucky. Firsts shouldn’t have to suck that bad.”

You hum, closing your eyes as you bask in the warmth of your high, and his company. “I’m probably oversharing.”

“Nah, I get it,” he says. You peek at him and he’s all soft-smirks and understanding eyes, regarding you with low lashes. “We all got… we all got needs. Like cracking your neck, right? Doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

You nod in shy agreement.

“Just sounds like you need someone who, y’know… understands the art a little better.”

Your heart stutters behind your ribs, wondering if you really picked up on a subtle proposition or if you’re just imagining things. You’re higher than you need to be, but you still inhale another drag with shaking fingers as if the act itself will soothe you.

“Oh, is that right?”

The corner of his mouth ticks with mirth, eyes flickering something dangerous when he glances over your figure, tongue darting out as if drinking you in.

“Yeah, you know. Some better options.”

Your neurons are like butter in a pan: melting, sliding from one thought to another. You very suddenly can’t stop imagining what it would be like to have sex with Josh Washington— and not in the intrusive thought, “ew that’s my best-friends-brother” way, but in a way, that’s far, far more tempting.

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep it casual despite the sudden warmth growing in your shorts. “Got any recommendations?”

“Could be me,” he murmurs, voice low and playful. Half-serious, half-joking, a droplet suggestion in a gentle current. “Just as a… temporary thing, you know? We’d be doing each other... favours.”

Your pulse skyrockets, throbbing in your throat and between your thighs. A thrill, driven by your sudden insatiable curiosity. But still, a stab of reluctance pokes through the mist of your weed haze.

“Hey. You can forget I asked,” he says gently, meaningfully. “Just a… thought.”

You can feel yourself getting embarrassingly wetter by the second, desperate to ease the tension with an excuse, any excuse. No, no, God no, you shouldn’t indulge in the forbidden fruit of your best friend’s older brother, of your friend, even if the thought of getting your desperately high sexual frustration quenched is insatiably desirable.

“Josh. We’re both high.”

“…But you’re down?”

You throw him a look, soft, puppyish. Please don’t make you say no because you’re not sure you can.

“Sure, we’re high. Not stupid. Not drunk.” He senses your trepidation. “It doesn’t have to mean anything if that’s what you’re worried about. We’re friends, right? Besides, we’ve got the whole summer together, so…”

“…Might as well make the most of it.”

He pauses, bottom lip caught between his teeth in thought, and then a nod. “Exactly.”

“Jesus,” you murmur, head swimming after your final smoke.

His eyes don’t leave yours when he has his turn. A quick puff between his teeth, smoke misting around him in the low lighting. A rushed inhale, the cherry glowing, a hiss when he exhales. There’s something deliberate about the way he’s looking at you.

Without breaking eye contact, he flicks the roach over the railing, the dying ember tumbling into the dark. His hands quickly find the back of your neck decisively, thumbing along your jaw, pulling you towards him in a fluid motion, angling his head to meet you— and then he’s on you. His lips capturing yours with a reverent ferocity, an urgency that catches you off guard.

He tastes like acrid weed smoke and something subtle, sweeter, like hard candy lingering on his tongue.

A moment of sobriety snatches you from the moment when you consider what his sisters — your best friends — might think if they found out you were planning on screwing their brother on the family holiday they invited you to.

You pull away, just enough that your noses brush. “Josh…”

“Shh,” he coos, sweeping you up with his attention again. You don’t object, too paralysed by the moment to deny yourself of this. You high-pitch moan against his mouth as his tongue strokes yours, turning gelatinous and pliant when his hand slips down from your shoulder to your breast, to your waist. Gripping, staking claim, just a slip of silk between his fingers and your skin, warm where he holds you.

The kiss intensifies, his mouth moving over yours in a way that’s both gentle and demanding; he’s greedy, savouring every second and every tremble of your hand as you try to steady yourself with fingers bunched into his hoodie. He thumbs along the pulse in your throat and you feel him smile into the kiss, relishing, and you realise he’s loving this— loving kissing you with a slow, aching patience that leaves you needy and breathless.

A hand slides down your body to your thigh, smooth against bare skin. His thumb pressing just enough to make an indent in the soft flesh, fingertips edging to the hem of your pyjamas and your heart jumps.

“This alright?” He asks, as his fingers form a gap between the waistband of your shorts and your skin.

“Mhm.” It pitches high. 

“You’re really hot when you’re excited.”

A hand on his neck. “Let’s hope you back up that talk then, huh?”

His fingers feel cool when they slide against your middle, hot and wet. A shuddery breath escapes you as he rubs slow, once, twice, slickening up.

“You normally this wet?”

“God, d-don’t,” you pant, clutching his shoulders. “It’s been a while.”

He laughs once in a breath, working his wrist slowly. “Don’t worry. Me too.”

Your breath hitches as he rubs circles into your clit, heat liquidising and pooling into his touch.

And when he lifts from the couch, fingers retracting from your heat, you suddenly become very shy and very aware that you’re outside. He starts tugging your shorts down, and he shoots a grin in response to your reflexive tense.

“What, lost your nerve?” He murmurs, lowering to his knees. “It’s just us.”

You flash with knowing and suddenly freeze. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Why not? Isn’t this the best part?”

“Um…” you chew on your lip.

Recognition flickers on his face. “Damn. Your ex really was an asshole.” But when he looks up at you again, it’s fond. Sweet.

“Relax. I’ll take care of you.”

You squirm as he pulls your shorts down, silk over flesh, no underwear beneath, eyes hungry. Too embarrassed to watch him as he parts your knees and presses kisses to your inner thigh, traces the blade of his tongue across a stretch mark, too horny to resist. A flash of eye contact— the last chance to back out, but you’re so swept up in the moment you’re not sure you could form the words.

His lips are quick against your warm middle, tongue parting you deliciously slow, a hum of delight and pressure when he pushes deeper. A bated breath escapes you in a shuddering pant, fingers knitting into his hair, all challenging words and witty remarks dissolving on your tongue.

Yeah, you’ll never look at Josh Washington the same after this.

“Fuck.”

He moans contentedly, pleased with your vocalisation, and the vibrations ricochet up your spine.

Can’t remember the last time someone went down on you. Your ex never made a big fuss about it, not that he ever got you there often. You bubble with over-sensitivity, twitching when he licks you, a gentle push on his forehead.

“Slow down,” you stutter.

He kisses your thigh. “Sensitive, huh?”

“Shut up.”

But he listens— pace gentler, more controlled. Flat-tongued strokes that made you shudder, liquid heat pooling against his mouth. So sweet when he suckles on your clit, laps at your core, arms caged around your thighs without possessiveness. Every sweep is like a countdown, weeks of grief and heartbreak a distant memory with his face in your pussy.

Tension coils and everything narrows down. You’re not outside, not getting eaten out by your best friend’s older brother, not doing anything you’ll regret.

You cum quick— quicker than you have with any previous partners. It’s tingly, a rise and fall that leaves you breathless, knees locking, heart pounding. He releases his from you with a soft, wet pop, rising to his feet and white-knuckling a fist into the backrest of the bench. A quick body scan, a tick of his head to see if you’re alright.

When you nod, his free hand reaches to sink two fingers knuckle-deep, parting your slick velvet with ease as you still pulse rhythmically in the aftershocks.

Oh God it’s vulgar, the sounds you make. Honeydew-wet, drip-dropping onto his palm as he curls upwards, a high-strung moan that you bite into the back of your hand. Scrunched eyes flickering up to meet him as he stares down at you, lips shining arousal-wet.

Need flashes through you, the incessant little voice in your head reminding you that this is your friend Josh vanishing with each jolt as he finger-fucks you. Not quite satiated as you squeeze tight around his fingers. You kiss him, lavishing the taste of his mouth, grabbing his wrist to urge him deeper, closer, ball of his palm atom-close to your still throbbing clit.

You break the kiss only to ask, “Do you have a condom?”

His fingers leave you, slick-wet on your thigh as he grips you. “In my pocket.”

“Did you plan this?”

He grabs the foil from his jeans. “Always gotta be prepared.”

There’s no space to take pause and consider the consequences when he tugs you onto his lap, jeans pooled around his ankles, cock sheathed in the condom and hard in his fist— not that you could formulate a cohesive thoughtwhen you’re this high and this horny.

Nails curl around his shoulders for support, desperate to tongue the firm planes you feel beneath his shirt, suck on the pulse that throbs in his neck, but the barrier of friendship draws an invisible line. He steadies you with a hand on your hip when you lower yourself, unhurried at first, just enough to stretch you out.

Shivery eye contact urges you on, and you slowly slide down, inch by eye-rolling inch, and then in one final swift drop, you’re pelvis-deep, wincing against the pleasure burn of the intrusion in your middle. A gasp escapes you, and his eyes find yours.

“Shit,” he murmurs, voice hoarse, breaking into a half-laugh. “You okay?”

You nod, but you’re trembling as you adjust to the size of him. “Yeah… yeah.”

Misty with sweat from the connection, your forehead settles against his, lips parted. You take a moment, adjust to the feeling, the weight of him inside of you. He’s as big as you thought he’d be— not that you’d tell him, as if his ego needs inflating anymore.

“It’s just… a lot.”

“I know,” he says, softer.

The world narrows down to the sensations: the midnight air cool against your skin, intimate heat pooling where you and Josh join, the feel of your heartbeat thrumming so hard your fingers shake against his shoulders. His touch slides down your back, under the small slip of your vest, brushing your sides with the same care he’d use to handle something delicate.

“Take your time,” he murmurs, voice low, strained. His stroking hands land on your thighs, thumbs pressing soothing circles into the bones of your hip. Grounding, despite the haze of arousal clouding your judgement.

You nod, swallowing hard, gripping his shoulders as you slowly lift yourself. Lungs tighten with caught breath at the way his cock shifts inside of you, the drag overwhelming and delicious— a punch of liquid-heat pleasure that makes your legs tremble when you lower yourself again, a slow descent that has both of you groaning softly. A gentle rhythm, a burn in the thighs.

“Feels good,” you stutter.

A short laugh, drifting into a tight sigh. “Too good.”

Trickling slow-building pressure settles low in your belly and has your hips shifting, testing. Tentative at first but growing bolder with each, slick pass. His grip tightens when you move, jaw clenching, throat bobbing when he swallows hard.

“I— fuck,” Josh breathes, fingers digging, the corner of his mouth ticking into a smirk despite his strung-tight tension. Abs flexed to gather control, breath hitching when you take him a little deeper. “That’s it, just like that.”

The praise shoots through you like a spark. Your body reacts instinctively— grinding against him, chasing the friction that licks pleasure in your belly like curling smoke. Slow, decadent, spreading, spreading…

“Jesus. You’re unreal.”

“Yeah?” You breathe, movements quickening, testing the waters of his endurance. Lips close to his jaw. “You like it?”

His response is immediate— a low, throaty groan as his hips tilt up to meet yours. “God, yeah,” he rasps, head tipping back, exposing the curve of his throat, the chords bobbing as he swallows thickly. “Fuck. Look at you.”

A smile teases the corner of your lips as you work him with your hips, spurred on by the thrill of his wearing tether.

“Did you really never notice me before?” You ask sweetly.

His head rolls back further, laughter torn through a sharp inhale. “Course I did. I just said that because…”

You tilt your head innocently, rhythm never faltering. “Because what?”

“It’s hard to focus when you keep— fuck— clenching like that,” he breathes after a squeezed blink, voice strained. “I said it because… shit, because you looked so good. Never— never let myself think about you like this before.”

Giddy from the affirmation, you bite on your lower lip. “So you think I’m hot, huh?”

“Don’t start.” His groan carries a weak laugh, but there’s no mistaking the warmth in his eyes. “You’re the one who came downstairs looking like that.”

You laugh breathlessly, a mix of indignation and amusement. “Hey, you invited me out here! I was just getting water.”

“And yet, here you are,” he shoots back, eyes dazed as he struggles to focus, but his smirk still bites mischievous.

“Josh!” You gasp, half-laughing. “You’re taking advantage of me, you know. I’m emotionally vulnerable.”

His smirk softens, shifting into something more genuine. “Yeah? You look real vulnerable right now.” His hands slide to your ass, squeezing with a force that makes you stutter a gasp. “The way you’re moving? Pretty sure you’re the one taking advantage of me.”

Your lips part with a retort sharp on your tongue, but his voice drops to a low murmur that sends heat pooling in your stomach.

“God, keep going. Feels so fucking good.”

Whatever witty comeback you mustered dies on your tongue, replaced by a shy moan as his hands guide you, hips sliding up to meet yours. Hands all over his chest to steady yourself, tingly to the bone when coiling tension blooms at the base of your spine. Pressure builds with each rolling thrust you muster, sharp with a pleasure ache when he nudges deeper.

“Josh,” you whimper, hands smoothing up to grip his tense shoulders. Your motions grow desperate, needy. Bursts of pleasure each time you snap together. Your breath comes faster, body trembling.

“Yeah?” He murmurs, voice strained but tender, teasing. “You close?”

You can’t form words, too lost in the pleasure building inside of you, so you frantically nod.

“C’mon,” he mutters, tone syrupy low and coaxing. His thumb slips between your bodies, finding your clit and applying pressure and circles in time with his thrusts. It’s like a strike of lightning, head tipping back as you arch into him. “That’s it. Let me feel you. I got you, I got you—”

His words shoot arousal straight to your core and your body seizes, locked-tight until the dam breaks, white-hot and all-consuming. Shuddering as you pulse, white-knuckle bunching his hoodie in your fists. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over you, walls clenching in rhythm around his unrelenting thrusts.

His hips stutter against your clenching, faltering when you fall apart in his arms. He slows— riding out your aftershocks, thumb still pressed against where you flutter and pulse.

“Shit,” he mutters, leaning back, drinking you in. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you come.”

You flush warm. “Don’t say that,” you stammer.

“Can’t help myself,” he replies gently, thumb circling you.

Shivering, you place a hand on his forearm, breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

“Josh— wait. Sensitive.”

He slows immediately, hands leaving you to cradle your back. “Sorry,” he says, softer. “Got carried away.”

You whimper when he spreads your thighs, an impossible stretch, and drives faster. Too much, too much, too—

“I know, I know,” he breathes. “Just a little longer. I— shit. I’m so close.”

His palms glide under your ass, fingers gripping, lifting and lowering you in a rhythm that’s all his, each rut drawing broken noises from both of you. When he finally lets go, with a collision that notches him deep, it’s with a groan that’s half your name half a sound that you’ll never forget. His breath is shaky, face wincing, as he pulses strongly inside of you, spilling into the condom.

For a long, stretched moment, the only sound is your mingled breathing, bodies still trembling in the aftershocks of strong-beating hearts, cock still twitching within you. The mountain air, cooler now against your sweat, grounds you. Eyes slipping closed as you collapse against his chest, his fingers up and down delicate over your spine.

“Jesus,” he says after a while, ragged when he catches his breath. There’s a subtle laugh to it, more out of disbelief than humour.

You mirror him, shaky and breathless when you laugh. “Yeah.”

The silence spreads thin again, palpable with a not-quite awkwardness, but heavy with something you can’t quite name. Slowly, you ease yourself upright, head lifting to meet his gaze. His eyes are softer now, reverent but searching as if looking for some reassurance.

“You okay?” He asks, voice careful, full of trepidation, a little earnest and vulnerable in a way that makes your chest ache.

You nod, smiling tiredly. “Yeah. I’m okay. You?”

“Better than okay,” he admits, grinning sheepishly but all dopamine-warm, sugary sweet in the afterglow. “Kinda feel like I should say thanks or something.”

“Please don’t.” You snort, rolling your eyes as you carefully pull away from him, hollow where he slips out of you soft and wet. Legs gelatinous when you stand, the high buzzing anxiously in your chest now you’ve settled.

He laughs with more strength now, lighter, more familiar. Some tension eases when you pull your shorts up, hyperaware of how exposed you are. You glance at him as he buttons his jeans, knotting and disposing of the condom discreetly.

For a moment, neither of you speak. He leans back on the railing, staring out at the mountains. You follow his gaze, letting the breeze fill the space between you.

“So,” he says after a beat. “We’re… good, right?”

When you glance at him, his expression is carefully neutral. Guarded, like he’s trying not to give too much away.

“We’re good,” you echo, lazy-lidded but mostly sober now.

“Good… good,” he trails off, hand knocking against the railing. “Don’t wanna make things weird, you know?”

“Bit late for that,” you tease, but then you lean next to him affectionately, platonically. “It’s not weird, Josh. It doesn’t have to be. Right?”

He turns to face you, his grin turning playful again. “Right.”

“Not getting cold feet, are you?”

“No, no— I don’t regret it, or anything,” he says, a flicker of uncertainty in his tone. “Just gotta make sure where we stand, you know?”

“Uh-huh,” you answer, not entirely convinced. “You just didn’t think I had it in me.”

He laughs, gaze dropping as colour rises on his face. “Shut… shut up.”

The quiet settles over you like the weight of the mist hanging over the mountains, heavy and expectant. Josh leans against the railing, his arms crossed as if he’s bracing himself, his gaze drifting to the lodge and then back to you. The air is cool now, biting against your sweat-slick skin, but his eyes— soft, searching— feel warmer than the sun.

A deep breath. You smell pine and mountain dew and a distinct linger of his cologne somewhere on your skin. When you open your eyes, he’s staring at you.

“You going back in, or… staying out here for a while?”

You glance over your shoulder where warm, inside light floods from the sliding doors. He looks on, expectantly. You have to practice some self-control when you speak, a near-melted puddle of organs and bliss from how he looks at you.

“I should probably head back in,” you reply.

His expression doesn’t falter, but the sweetness in his eyes dips a little.

“Yeah. Probably a good idea.”

You hesitate, caught in the lingering gravity between you. Thoughts bob like waves in your head, incessant badgering like: you’re high, it’s hormones, he’s just your friend’s brother.

But it’s not “just” anymore.

“Guess I’ll, uh… see you in the morning?” He says, uncertain as if unsure how to part ways.

You nod, trying to play it cool, but your heart flutters. “See you in the morning.”

He smiles faintly, the mischievous edge creeping back into his expression. “Sweet dreams.”

You roll your eyes as you leave, softened by his teasing demeanour, and you’re unable to bite back your smile.

You feel like you’re floating in your bed, light and airy when you stare up at the ceiling. Mind anything but clear, higher now that you’re alone in the dark.

You try to steady your thoughts, but they keep drifting back to Josh: the curve of his throat, the way he looked at you like he wanted to know more. Cells, pulled apart, pressed onto a slide, microscopically observed.

The heat of his touch lingers on your skin, the ghost of his fingers and lips making your heart ache with something tangled and intangible. Anticipation? Guilt? Excitement?

The summer had barely started— and it already felt like it was spinning out of control. You’re swept up, dictated by the gravity of his shit-eating smile and the feel of him inside of you.

With a sigh, you close your eyes, the sound of the breeze outside lulling you into a restless sleep. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder what tomorrow will bring— and whether Josh will be waiting for you with that same knowing smirk, with more favours to offer you.

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