#like she’s in pajamas or doing something that is

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Chapter 2: Awake

Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Doctor Female Reader Chapter Rating: M. Chapter Summary: He feels so weighed down by everything. His broken body slowly mending itself, the scraggly beard that thickly grows during his convalescence, the pile of blankets you implore him to keep on top of him, the bandage wrapped around his leg that locks it in place, and what little memories he has about the chalet. Chapter Warnings: HEAVY SPOILERS FOR S2E2, FIX IT FIC, pov switching, joel survives abby's encounter, injuries, healing, bathing joel miller, rag bath boner alert Words: 4,550

A/N: I can't thank you enough for all of your responses to the first chapter of Healed. It really means a lot, but as an anxiety queen... wooooo boy, did I put a lot pressure on myself with this followup chapter. I worked very hard on it and I hope you love it. Thank you to @mothandpidgeon, @schnarfer, and @for-a-longlongtime for all of their help and plotting.

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—- The ball of yarn rolls off your lap and bumps against the leg of Joel’s bed. Thanks to the bag of yarn Maria brought over, you now have enough yarn to make a blanket—a big, warm blanket for Joel.

You’re sitting in the chair next to his bed, the clicking of your needles and Joel’s breathing the only sounds in the house. You never knew peace like this could exist now… quiet, comfortable, tranquil, all in a type of home you never thought you’d live in again.

Joel’s breathing changes; you can always tell when he’s awake just by the slight shift in the pattern of his breaths. His eyelids flutter, then open slowly. His brown eyes blink, staring up at the ceiling.

You set your needles down, the half-finished blanket dropping from your lap when you get up.

“Hey Joel,” you softly greet, reaching out to grab his wrist and check his pulse.

“Ellie,” he roughly whispers. “Need to see Ellie.”

His pulse is strong, he’s getting better every day.

“I’ll get her for you,” you say, adjusting his pillow. “Hold on.”

You’re in such a rush, you forget to grab your boots that are sitting near the front door. Joel’s boots lay in the kitchen, near the back door, unused since New Year’s Day. You slip them on and awkwardly clamber out of the house and down the stairs towards the garage.

The freezing cold overwhelms you, you’ve been stuck inside Joel’s house for so long, focused solely on his recovery, you almost forgot what winter feels like. The snow crunches beneath Joel’s boots as you approach the garage.

You knock on the door, to no answer. You knock harder.

“Ellie? It’s me. Joel is awake and asking for you.”

The door swings open. Ellie stands, her hair disheveled, wearing an oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. Her eyes are puffy with sleep, but they widen immediately. She doesn’t even grab a jacket; she just quickly shuffles past you, rushing through the snow in her socks to the back door.

“Ellie!” you shout when she reaches the porch. “Hold on a second.”

You peek inside, finding her Converse right by the entrance, picking them up before shutting her door. When you reach the porch, you hand her the tattered shoes covered in doodles.

She looks you up and down, taking in your oversized sweatshirt and pajama pants. Her head tilts when she sees you in Joel’s boots.

“First,” you catch her attention, “he just woke up, he can’t talk or move much. I need you to know that, okay?”

She nods. “Do you need to be with him?” she asks, opening the back door.

“No, I don’t. I’ll give you some privacy.”

“Yeah, thanks,” she quickly responds, rushing past you to the living room. You hear her voice crack as she says his name.

—-

“Joel?”

Ellie. Her face is thinner than he remembers, dark circles beneath her eyes. He sees something different in her eyes now. Gone is the anger and the resentment.

“Hey kiddo,” he manages.

“Hey,” she echoes.

She sits at the edge of his bed, grimacing and favoring her right side when she lowers herself. He tries to summon the strength to work through the pain of reaching for her hand, but can barely lift it. She notices his attempt and meets him halfway, her fingers slightly trembling as they wrap around his.

Her other hand fidgets with the frayed hem of her shirt, her eyes are distant, tears lining them. The attack happened to her, too.

“You okay?” he asks.

"I was so fucking scared," she starts. "I kept thinking about all the things I never said to you. All the time I wasted being pissed."

"Ellie—" he tries.

But as always, she doesn’t let him get a word in.

"No, let me finish. I thought about what it would be like without you around. And I didn't like it.” Her vulnerable eyes meet his. “I don't want to be mad anymore."

“I don’t want that either. We’ve got time now.”

Ellie nods, blinking rapidly. She squeezes his hand once before letting go, standing up with a sniff. "Yeah, well. Don't get all soft on me, old man."

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He watches her leave, and for the first time in weeks, he smiles through the pain.

He’s safe.

He’s in Jackson.

He’s home.

—-

The days slowly grow longer, though the cold bite of winter still seeps through the walls.

You’re getting used to falling asleep to the low crackle of the fire burning in the fireplace and the sound of Joel’s soft snores.

Tonight, though, he’s restless.

A grunt.

Then another.

And another, this time, more pained. Enough to concern you.

He’s struggling in his dreams.

"Joel," you whisper, reaching for his arm. "Joel, you're okay."

His eyes snap open. Wild and unfocused. Feral. For a split second, he doesn't recognize you.

"It's me," you say softly. "You're safe."

His breathing is labored. His pulse is hammering. A slight sheen of sweat lies on his skin.

“Joel,” you keep your voice steady. “Just breathe with me.”

He blinks.

Once.

Twice.

Then, he softens when he recognizes you.

His shoulders slump, and you can feel the tension drain from his body as he settles against the pillows.

“Sorry,” he whispers, sleep crackling his voice.

“Don’t be,” you reassure. “You want to talk about it?”

You already know the answer.

“No.”

You nod, settling back into the recliner.

“But…” his voice falters before he continues, “thank you.”

“Of course, Joel. Good night.”

“‘Night.”

—-

Soon, the IV is taken out, and Joel stays awake longer, and with each passing day he gains the strength to sit up.

Progress happens slowly.

And yet, a spoon, a goddamn spoon, sometimes feels impossible to lift.

But you, you’re steadfast. Always by his side, feeding him dinner every evening— always soup. He’s sick of soup… at least as he musters more strength, it gets thicker, no more barely-flavored broth.

"This might be hot," you warn, dipping the spoon into the bowl.

He watches the way your lips purse as you blow on it gently before bringing it to his mouth.

Your lips look so soft.

He accepts the first spoonful awkwardly, some liquid dribbling down his chin. You wipe it away with a napkin and a gentle smile.

“Feel like I’m a damn kid,” he says.

The longer he stays up, the grumpier he gets. At least the humiliation of having to be fed has begun to subside, mainly due to your soothing ways.

He feels so weighed down by everything. His broken body slowly mending itself, the scraggly beard that thickly grows during his convalescence, the pile of blankets you implore him to keep on top of him, the bandage wrapped around his leg that locks it in place, and what little memories he has about the chalet.

It’s all so heavy.

But there’s progress, and it’s slow.

His face is still mottled with fading bruises. Yellow and green now where purple and red once bloomed.

His right eye, no longer swollen, opens fully now, though the relentless headaches persist.

His left leg is in the worst shape. The infection nearly killed him, but your meticulous care saved what was left of it. He wonders if he’ll ever walk normally again.

He tries not to think about it too much, but the endless hours in bed give him a lot of time to let his mind wander for the first time in 25 years. Too much time.

—-

As more snow melts outside and spring transforms the world from brown to green, Joel's impatience grows alongside his strength.

He can now sit up taller in bed, propped up by the pillows you’ve stacked behind him, yet he keeps trying to do more than he should, pushing himself past what his body will allow.

He fights a low sound in his throat as he tries to move. You cross the room in an instant. He shudders when you help him settle back against the pillows, his breath releasing in a loud sigh.

“You have to take it easy. You can’t do that yet.”

You’re getting used to the rumble of disagreement in his throat.

You try not to hover, but you do. Making sure he eats, making sure he drinks, trying to make sure he doesn't push himself too far.

"I can manage," he snaps, reaching for his reading glasses on the bedside table and hissing when his ribs remind him otherwise.

You wait. You don't have to say "I told you so," because it's all there in the way you just stand and look at him, waiting for him to realize it himself.

"Damnit." He sags against the pillow.

You pick up the glasses, handing them to him with a slight smile. He grumbles a thanks so low to himself, you almost don’t hear it.

His wounds are beginning to heal, leaving scars along his body. You’ve seen the other lines and marks that pepper his skin, you wonder what he’s survived.

You’re constantly working his muscles, gently bending his stiff limbs, trying to keep his body from growing too stiff and getting too weak. You know he’s in so much pain, his hands gripping the sheets, his eyes squeezing shut, and yet he still puts in the work.

Your hands work on his good leg, stretching and massaging the muscles. He relaxes into your touch, his breathing deepening as you gently hum.

—-

You hum a lot.

Soft songs sweetly spill from your lips while you take care of him.

It soothes him, makes the world seem a little brighter.

You’re humming something he doesn’t recognize, but it makes the pain soften.

He wonders if you even realize you’re doing it, or how much he likes it.

His life for the past two months has been this bed, these walls, and you.

He used to live such a quiet life, alone in this big house, with just his records and wood carvings. He liked the silence. Now there’s you, a constant presence of someone else in his space.

He watches you, and you don’t even realize it.

He gets to know you better as he observes.

It’s comforting.

Like, how your brows always furrow when you concentrate on changing his bandages, the soft sigh you let out when you finally sit down after hours of tending to him, or the way you bunch up the sleeves of your oversized sweatshirt around your elbows.

He tries to tell himself it’s just boredom, nothing more. But his house now feels warmer with you, his pain subsides with your gentle touch.

—-

Tommy helps as much as he can, between rebuilding and running Jackson. He gives you enough of a break to allow yourself to venture out of the house. As attached as you’ve grown to Joel, the walls of his home have begun to feel a bit too confining.

Walking through Jackson, watching as life buzzes around you, it’s so different from the quarantine zone and the desolate wasteland that sit outside the walls.

It's almost addictive... the small glimpses you get of a hopeful future.  

A bakery, a clothing swap, a hardware store, a pharmacy, gardens, and farms. Happy lives living right in front of you.

It’s almost like the world before it fell apart.

Kids run through the streets laughing and shouting with backpacks hung low on their backs. Houses with sidewalks covered in chalk drawings and wind chimes swaying in the breeze line the streets. People casually chat on corners and smile, all clad in clean clothes and jewelry.

If you ignore the fading paint, cracks in the road, and the giant walls manned with patrols keeping everyone and everything safe, you could almost believe that the world hadn’t ended at all.

People nod as you pass, offering you smiles of recognition. You still feel like a newcomer, but Joel’s situation has made you known to most. It seems like everyone knows him. Though you’re pretty sure he’s not much of a social butterfly. But he does seem to be the popular and respected type, as evidenced by all of the get-well-soon cards and flowers sitting outside his fence. 

When you return, Tommy’s on the porch, strumming Joel’s guitar.

“He’s sleeping,” he says quietly. “People been treating you alright?”

“People or Joel?” you ask.

“Both.”

“People have been very kind. Joel…” You trail off, sitting down beside him. “Joel is… impatient and grumpy most of the time, but… underneath it all, he’s kind when he wants to be.”

He barks out a laugh, a wide smile across his face. You wonder what Joel looks like when he smiles.

“That’s him.”

"So, is he always like this?" you ask, glancing back at the house.

"More or less. Joel's always been..." he seems to search for the right word, "complicated. But he's got a good heart. He’s a lot happier now.”

“I can see that.”

He shifts in his seat, a weight settles behind his brown eyes that remind you of Joel’s. He clears his throat. “I don’t think I've properly thanked you," he says. "For what you did. Saving him." His palms rub against the denim of his jeans, he clears his throat again.

“I was doing my job.”

"No." Tommy shakes his head firmly. "No, it was more than that. Any other doctor would've given up. The infection alone..." He trails off, looking out over the street. "You didn't just save his life once. You keep saving it. Every day. The way you care for him ‘n put up with his ornery ass."

Warmth spreads through your body with each beat of your heart against your chest. It’s a simple task. Caring for somebody. It’s what you’ve always wanted to do.

Heal.

Help.

Revive.

And now, you finally get to watch someone heal, instead of just seeing them at their most broken.

"He's not that bad, really."

“Still,” Tommy says, “thank you.” He stands, stretching his back with a soft groan. "I should head out."

After he leaves, you slip back inside. The house is quiet except for the soft ticking of the clock and Joel's steady breathing.

He's still asleep. The harsh lines of pain are smoothed away, making him look younger. His chest rises and falls steadily, the blanket you tucked around him still in place.

You're about to head towards the kitchen when his eyes flutter open, dark and unfocused.

"Hey," you whisper, moving closer. "Sorry if I woke you."

"S'fine. Tommy gone?”

“Just left,” you say, adjusting his pillow. "How are you feeling?"

He grunts a sound that you've come to recognize as his noncommittal answer for 'not great but I won't admit it.'

"How was outside?” he asks.

“Nice. Jackson is beautiful in the spring."

Something flickers across his face—longing, maybe. He's been trapped inside these walls for so long now.

"Tell me," he says, shifting against his pillows, wincing slightly. "How is it out there?"

You settle into the chair next to the bed, and you tell him.

—-

He can't stay still. He hates staying still.

It's the worst he's ever been hurt, and yet the guilt of sitting back and letting someone else take care of things sometimes hurts more than his injuries.

He's trying to reach for the water when he knocks the glass to the floor with a painful grunt. He tries to sit up on his own and gets tangled in the sheets, his limbs won't cooperate enough to free him, so you have to come and untangle him.

You stand over him, arms crossed, and he knows what you’re going to say before you open your mouth to say it.

"Don't," he interrupts. He knows he sounds petulant and a little bit pathetic, and it only makes him more determined to do it his way.

You're not having any of that.

"You’re stubborn," you say, shaking your head.

"I’m tired of being a burden,” he says.

Your hand lands on his arm with a gentle squeeze. “You’re not… but, you would be back on your feet already if you'd just allow yourself to heal," you add, as if he doesn't already know.

It gets old. The steady routine of not quite healing and not quite making things worse.

But you’re always there for him.

You read to him, talk to him, and spend every moment close enough to touch, but you’re always just out of reach from him.

—-

You’ve read pages upon pages of Lonesome Dove to Joel.

You always choose the wooden chair next to his bed over the recliner, lying to yourself that it’s just easier to read under that lamp light.

On page 600 of 858, Joel asks if he can have the book, if he can read a couple of pages. “I don’t even know if I can still read,” he observes when you hand him the book and his reading glasses.

He puts his glasses on, squinting at the page. He gently clears his throat, his shoulders inflate with a deep breath.

“August floated in the red water. Sometimes he saw faces, heard voices, saw more faces. He saw Bolivar and Lippy, his two wives, his three sisters. He saw men long dead whom he had rangered with, saw Pedro Flores and Pea Eye and a redheaded whore he had taken up with for a month in his riverboating days. He sloshed helplessly back and forth, as if something were churning the water.

When the redness receded and he opened his eyes again, he heard a piano playing in the distance. He was in bed in a small, hot room. Through the open window he could see the great Montana prairie.” 

When his voice gets too scratchy and too tender, he sets the book down, a wistful look in his deep brown eyes as he looks out the window.

“How long have you been takin’ care of me?” he asks, his eyes staying focused on the blooming cherry blossom tree outside.

“Almost three months now,” you answer.

He turns to you.

“And you’ve been here the whole time.”

You nod.

It’s quiet.

And then, he swallows, the slight movement of his throat draws your attention. “Thank you,” he says. Gruff and sincere, in the way you’ve now learned how Joel Miller is.

“It’s my job.”

You know it's more than that, and you’ve known that for some time now.

Most doctors don’t read to their patients every night, they don’t smile fondly at the small victories, they don’t stare at their patients when they’re asleep, trying to figure out the meaning behind the lines on their face.

“Right,” he says, reaching the book out to you. “Go ahead.”

His touch seems to linger against yours when you take the book back. Your finger traces the text Joel read, picking up where he left off.

"Feeling considerable pain, Augustus looked down and saw that his left leg was gone. The stump had been bandaged, but the bandage was leaking. Blood seeped through it, though it was a thick bandage.”

His eyes drift between you and the window as the sun sets outside, backlighting you in orange and gold.

“Hits a little close to home,” he mutters.

You pause, noticing the slight tremble in his hand before he tucks it under the blanket.

The bookmark is slipped between the pages, and you close the book. “We don’t have to keep reading this one.” Joel shakes his head, his jaw set in determination. “No,” he lowly responds. “Keep going.”

Sincere. Gruff. Joel Miller.

You swallow, softening your voice as you continue reading. The words feel so heavy as you read them, finding too many parallels between fiction and the man lying next to you.

—-

The true test of Joel's growing strength is when Tommy helps him into a wheelchair.

He hates it more than anything.

The day Tommy brought it over, Joel's face darkened, his eyes glaring at the chair.

"I don't need that goddamn thing," he growled.

"Just until you're stronger," you told him, keeping your voice gentle. "It'll help you get around more. It’ll be good for you.”

Just for now.

It’s only temporary.

He refuses to let anyone besides Ellie and Tommy see him this way. He’s not a prideful man, but he is a man who doesn’t like to be seen as weak.

His first few times transferring to the chair are awkward. His arms are getting stronger; he can push himself up, but you still wrap your arms around his waist, helping him pivot before he settles.

You’re so close, it takes his breath away.

Your face is just inches from his, your arms still wrapped around him. He can smell you, can feel your breath against his neck.

"You good?" you ask, looking up at him.

He swallows hard. "Yeah."

But he doesn't feel good. He feels something stirring in his chest that he hasn't felt in so long, and it terrifies him.

—-

It's harder than you thought it would be. Not because of the angle, or because of the heat humming from the radiator, or because the downstairs bathroom isn't built to hold two people at once. It's hard because Joel is half-naked, clad only in a towel resting on his lap. His broad, golden chest on full display.

When you’d bathed him before, you had other things to worry about then… like whether or not he'd live. He was too out of it to care. Too weak to even know it was happening. Too tired to notice the way you had to fight to keep from staring. Now it's different. Joel’s healthy. He's strong. He's well aware of your every move.

He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "You sure we need to do this?”

You try to keep your expression neutral. Try to act like this is just another thing to check off the list.

"We do," you say. “And next time, we’re taking care of the beard of yours.” You try to lighten the mood, trying to ease some of the tension that’s sparking in the room.

He doesn’t respond, his lips are pressed together in a tight line.

You keep your eyes on his chest, on the small scars that are scattered there amongst the constellation of freckles.

Your movements are tentative. Slow. Careful not to touch him any more than you have to, careful to keep your distance, even though you’re finding it more difficult to do. It's impossible.

You start to clean him, avoiding him in the places that make you both catch your breath.

Your hands stay too long on his chest, and you know he notices. You know by the way he sucks in a sharp breath, by the way his skin pebbles under your touch. By the way his pulse races.

His chest, his arms, his hands. They all flex and twitch under your touch.

Your fingers are as steady as you can make them, but you know he sees how much effort it takes, how much you’re fighting against yourself.

The rag slips, falling onto his lap. He inhales sharply when you gently pick it up, his head slightly tilting back.

It is quite harder than you thought it would be.

—-

Water trails down his body.

The rag is cool against his skin, cooler than he expected it to be.

He should be used to it by now, used to your touch and your presence and the way you make it all so damn hard to think of anything but you. 

It's different this time. You’re so close that he can feel your breath when you lean in to soap the places it hurts too much to reach.

He thought it would be easier.

He thought he could sit back and let it happen, the way he did when he was in bed and in pain and not able to do a damn thing about it.

Now it's harder.

His muscles tense when the rag glides over them, every fiber of his body feeling what it's like to have you this close.

He tries to avoid your eyes, staring hard at the ceiling, the walls, anywhere but at you. He tries not to notice how you watch how he reacts. But every time he shudders, he notices the hitch in your breath.

His guard breaks when you wash him lower. His breath catches, and he holds it.

He knows you see it—the swallow of need in his throat. He struggles to control himself, his muscles tense and strained.

The rag gets closer and closer to where he’s most vulnerable. Your movements are clinical, professional, and yet he sees the way your eyes widen and the slight tremble in your hands.

“I can—” he strains. “I can do that part.”

“No, you can barely move your arms,” you firmly say, dipping the rag back in the water. “Let me help you.”

Your eyes don’t meet his, they’re too focused on the rag moving gently across his thighs. His jaw clenches at the first brush. The chair scrapes against the floor when his whole body tenses. “Fuck,” he breathes out.

Relief and disbelief tangle within him when he realizes his cock has grown hard.

He tried not to worry himself about his dick, it’s not like it was getting much use before, but now he knows he is more alive than ever. 

Your hands falter, but you don’t stop. He sees the way your eyes widen, sees the slight peek of your tongue when you lick your lips. He tries to fight it, but a groan escapes his throat. He closes his eyes, embarrassment and pleasure lining his face. 

—-

You look away, focusing on the far wall, pretending not to see. Pretending not to notice. Pretending like your own breathing isn't picking up, like your own pulse isn't hammering. But Joel can tell.

He breathes out, his breath ragged.

And then… he calms himself.

Now, the only sound is the drip of the water as you rinse the rag, as you finish cleaning him in silence, as you help him dress with hands that aren't nearly as steady as you wish they were.

You help him back into his chair, neither of you say a word.

It’s normal. It’s a physiological response. It’s clinical.

And yet, you’re definitely turned on by it. 

—-

Christ, he hasn’t been this embarrassed in years, and yet there’s no shame, because he could see how you reacted, he could feel the tremor in your hands as you helped him dress, he could feel the tension getting heavier in that small room.

The tension doesn’t fade.

It lingers.

Like the way you hand him a cup of coffee, your fingers brushing against his. The way you sit in the recliner, the sleeve of your sweater slipping off one shoulder that you typically fix right away. But tonight, he gets to see the peek of your skin while you quietly read. The way you look up, catching him staring, a soft, shy smile gracing your lips before you look back down at your book.

There’s something between you now.

Something that can’t be ignored.

Something that can’t be washed away.

—-

A/N: My taglist has grown too large. Please follow @whocaresposted and turn on notifications to be alerted about new chapters!

My perma tags: @forspringcleaning, @schnarfer, @mothandpidgeon

[corroded-hellfire]

By the Book - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish story

Summary: Eddie takes your daughter on a trip to the bookstore.

Note: This came about because @munson-blurbs and I were in a bookstore and heard a mom call for her daughter Eliza 🥺

Words: 1.2k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Ooh, what about this one?”

Eliza stacks an eighth book on top of the pile she’s amassed on the low table set in the middle of the children’s section. 

Eddie releases a small huff of laughter from his place on the tiny giraffe chair across from his daughter. He loves that Eliza wants to buy books for her younger siblings, but, in true Munson fashion, she’s going a bit overboard.

“We already have one about ducks, don’t we?” Eddie asks.

“They are geese,” the almost-kindergartener tells him. “I like this one with the superhero.”

“I could read that to them while they wear the Superman and Wonder Woman pajamas that Luke bought them,” Eddie says. 

“Yeah!” She happily slides that book closer to her father. “Can I get a book?”

“Sure thing, sweet pea. But we’re not going to be able to get all of these for the babies. They’re so little and there’s plenty of time to get them more books.”

Eliza sighs in disappointment, the exhale so strong that it blows some curls off her forehead. 

“Okay,” she reluctantly replies. “But these.”

She pushes two copies of Corduroy in his direction. One side of Eddie’s mouth quirks up in a smile; he remembers that as one of the few books in his room as a young boy. 

“That’s a good book,” Eddie says, picking up one of the books. “But why do we need two?”

The withering look Eliza gives him makes him wonder if he’s the one whose brain hasn’t fully developed yet, not hers. She’s a very convincing almost-four-year-old.

“You can’t buy for one baby and not other!”

Eddie chuckles softly, but kindly.

“Lize, they don’t each need a book,” he explains. “I can’t read two books at the same time, but they can both listen to one at the same time.”

“Oh.” Eliza plops down in the elephant chair next to her. She purses her lips, and Eddie tilts his head to the side in question.

“What’s up?”

Big brown eyes meet his own and Eddie sees a rare flash of timidity go across her face. She looks down at the table and the pad of her forefinger traces invisible patterns. The hesitation makes Eddie furrow his brow—he can’t remember the last time Eliza didn’t speak her mind.

“How do I be a big sister?” Her voice is soft, unsure. 

“Oh,” Eddie says in surprise. That’s not something he was expecting. His heart reaches out to his daughter, crestfallen that this has been a thought that’s been growing inside of her. “Liza, you’re already a wonderful big sister.”

“But I dunno stuff. How am I gonna hold two babies?”

“Ah,” Eddie hums. He nods in head in understanding, offering her a gentle smile. “That’s confusing, huh? How to cuddle both babies at the same time? What do the babies share and what do they have their own of? What to do when they both cry?”

“Uh huh.”

“Wanna know a secret?”

Eliza looks up and bobs her head up and down.

“Sometimes I don’t know the answer to that either.” The little girl looks shocked at his response, which makes him chuckle. “It’s complicated, isn’t it? Mama and I learn as we go, though.”

“Mama gets ‘fused too?” she asks.

“Yeah. Mama and I have never had twins before. It’s something new.” He reaches over and gently taps his fingers up her wrist. “And you’ve never been a big sister before. Or a sister to twins. That’s also new and something you’ll learn as you grow up. Your brothers, too. And when you were born, Luke had to learn how to be a big brother. He didn’t know.”

“So, Luke knows now?”

Eddie winces, his mind trying to figure out a proper reply to that.

“Maybe a different source of information would be better,” he finally says. His eyes light up as an idea pops into his head. “Why don’t we see if they have a book on being a big sister?”

“Okay.” Eliza slides off of her chair and Eddie pushes himself up out of his with a groan. 

He cracks his back and looks down at the giraffe chair. He shakes his head; he’s proud of himself for getting up after being down so low. His long legs, he’d argue—that’s what made it hard. Not his age.

The two of them leave the pile of baby books on the table as they venture over to the shelves. It doesn’t take long to find what they’re looking for. The section is actually quite large, which has Eddie smiling down at his daughter.

“Look at all these books,” he says. “Lots of people need to learn how to have a little sibling—or siblings.”

The reassurance seems to chase away Eliza’s insecurity as she scans the book covers with eager eyes. A soft hum emanates from her as she allows her fingers to brush against a few at eye level. 

“I like this one,” she says, stopping on a particularly pink book. No surprise there.

Eddie pulls it from the shelf and looks over the cover. 

“I Love Being A Big Sister,” he reads. “That sounds perfect for you.”

A smile grows on Eliza’s face and warmth spreads through Eddie’s chest. 

“I do love it!” she says.

“I know you do!” Eddie boops the tip of her nose with a ringed finger. He nods towards the rest of the books in the children’s section. “Want to find another book too?”

“Yes!” All the light and excitement are officially back in his little girl. She twirls around, holding her hands above her head. “I want a book with a ballerina!”

Eddie walks over to set down the book he’s holding on top of the pile for the twins—silently deciding that he will buy all of those books after all. If you say anything about it when they get home, he’ll just say that he wants them to be as educated as possible. How can you argue with that?

“A ballerina princess!” Eliza squeals. Her little feet tap in place, her hands stretch up towards the book just out of her reach. 

Whipped father that he is, Eddie comes over and gets the book down for her before she even has to ask. 

“Ah!” Eliza cheers. She clutches the book to her chest and begins to twirl once more. After two spins, she leaps towards the table, in an attempt to mirror the action of the ballerina princess on the cover of her new book. 

“Happy with your choice?” He already knows the answer of course.

“Mhmm!” she hums. “Can we read it to Scarlett, too? Even if it’s my book?”

Eddie grins and leans down to press a kiss to the top of her curls.

“Absolutely, sweet pea. See? You’re already the most thoughtful big sister.”

She beams up at him with a proud smile and it’s enough to melt Eddie on the spot. Luckily for him, Eliza picks up her books and heads in the direction of the checkout—because if she asked, Eddie would’ve bought her the whole store. 

[muwapsturniolo]

Third time's the charm 🐰ྀི C. Sturniolo

"let me make it up to you bun."

⟢ nsfw content ahead, smut, overstimulation, fingering, mentions of sex toys, begging,

@bernardsbendystraws FOR DIVIDER

Self-care was something Bunny loved to participate in. Face masks galore, facial steaming, skincare products, as well as body care too. It was the perfect way to relax, especially with her having two days off from ballet.

It was the perfect weekend for it as well. Doll was out of town on a business trip, leaving the girl alone to do whatever she pleased, including self-pleasure.

She had her whole night planned, half of the activities being done. She had washed her hair and diffused it, she had done all her body care after an everything shower, and she put on the new pajamas she had gotten last week.

She felt good.

She was currently in the kitchen looking for a small snack to eat before she went to her room and started to have fun by herself. Just as she had popped a grape into her mouth, the doorbell had rung. With furrowed brows, she makes her way over, the pink bunny slippers shuffling across the hardwood flooring.

The door opens just a tiny bit, enough for her to see Chris on the other side.

"Chris? What are you doing here?"

He licks his lips as she opens the door wider, her pink lacey pajamas that weren't supposed to be sexual in any way, coming into view. The flowy top hugged her chest perfectly, pressing her boobs together and showing just enough skin. The pajama shorts, if you could call them that, were super short and tight, the material hugging her plump thighs just right. He could only imagine how the cusps of her ass looked.

"You said Doll was out of town, figured I'd keep you company for the night. You gonna let me in?" She smiles softly and does as asked, letting him into the warm home and closing the door. He follows her back into the kitchen, watching as she stands at the counter and continues munching on her grapes.

"Did you bring clothes?" She asks him softly, covering her mouth like she always does when eating. "Nah, figured since you like to steal my clothes, I have something here." He walks up behind her and grabs her waist, kissing her shoulder softly. She turns around and holds up a grape, offering it to him. She pops it in his mouth before pulling away from him.

"You can go change in my room. I have some of your hoodies and a pair of your sweats in my closet." Chris hums and pecks her lips before walking out of the kitchen and making his way to her room. He sighs as he enters the comfortable space, the smell of sugar cookies and vanilla infiltrating his senses. He walks past her bed and towards her closet, catching something in the corner of his eye.

He turns his head, his eyes widening when he sees the objects on the bed.

A baby pink rose toy, as well as lube and a dildo.

He approaches the bed, grabbing the pink phallus and examining it. It was pretty big, similar to his dick size that stands at 7 inches. It looked like it was made of jelly, a few veins running up along the side.

He smirks as he grabs the lube and throws it into her nightstand along with the dildo, hiding the rose toy under one of her many pillows.

The night continues, the couple ending up in her bedroom, lying down and watching a movie. He was shocked she didn't react to her toys being gone from her bed, but he figured she was distracted. It was no secret that Bunny was completely infatuated with Chris. When he was around, it seemed as if the girl's brain shut off and only focused on him.

Chris was currently sitting with his back against the headboard, Bunny lying between his legs with her eyes trained on the TV. He begins to kiss her shoulder, trailing soft kisses up to her neck before nipping softly. She tries to turn around, but Chris keeps her in place, one of his hands settling on her thigh.

"Did you have any other plans for tonight?" He murmurs in her ear, his breath hot and causing goosebumps to rise along her arms.

"Mmm, no." Chris smirks at her answer, his hands starting to rub at her thighs.

"I think you're lying Bun."

"No I'm no- Really? Because the dildo and vibrator that were on your bed said otherwise." He chuckles feeling her whole body tense, the embarrassment settling in. She tries to turn her body once more, Chris still holding her in place.

"I-I didn't know you were com- Shhhh it's ok Bun. I should be the one apologizing for ruining your night." He begins to snake his right hand into her shorts.

"Let me make it up to you Bun."

She gasps softly as a singular finger swipes through her folds, gathering her juices before circlining her clit. Her whole body relaxes into Chris's touch, his fingers drawing lazy figure eights on her sensitive bundle of nerves. He continues to plant open-mouth kisses along her neck, whispering sweet and dirty words into her ear.

As she opens her legs wider, giving him more room, he trails his left hand up from her thigh to her chest, groping her breast softly. He tweaks at her nipple through the lacey material of her pajama top, enjoying the way she mewls out and arches her back.

He speeds up his ministrations, the lewd and crude sloshing sound of her juices getting louder as well as her moans.

"Come on baby, know you're close."

He focuses on the way her toes curl, her breath hitching and her back arching as she comes closer and closer to her high. She was teetering on the edge of release, but she needed more.

"M-more, please!" She breathes out, her needy pleas making Chris hum.

"You can do it, be a good girl for me Bun."

She begins to grind against his hand, each movement of her hips matching up with his quick swipes over her clit. It seems like that was just enough for her to reach euphoria, her eyes rolling back as she crumbles into his touch.

But Chris wasn't done.

He grabs her jaw and angles her head back, his lips finding hers in a greedy and sloppy kiss. The two of them work together through the kiss to get her shorts off, throwing the pink material somewhere in the room.

As she remains distracted, Chris reaches underneath the pillow to the side of him and grabs the rose toy. The girl yanks away from the kiss just as the device makes contact with her clit, her hips jerking at the overstimulation.

"F-fuck - Language Bunny." Chris presses the toy harder against her clit, enjoying the way she clenches her eyes shut and her thighs quiver. She was still sensitive from her previous orgasm, her juices leaking onto the white sheets - It was too much.

"Chris, pl-please!" She grabs at his wrist, her nails digging into his skin as she tries to breath. He turns the vibrator up one setting, smiling sadistically as she throws her head back and lets out a mix of a moan and a sob. Chris wraps his left hand around her throat, squeezing gently.

"You can handle it," she breathes heavily, sniffling as she tries to stop her body from seizing up. Despite the overstimulation, her hole was aching, clenching as it begged to be filled and stretched out.

"P-please I- nghh- need you!"

"Aww, my little Bunny needs me? I thought this was too much?" He chuckles as her eyes roll back once more, her moans getting louder and louder every second.

"Give me one more and I'll give you what you want. Be a good girl."

It doesn't take that much time for her to reach that peak, her juices splashing all over Chris's hand and her bed. She heaves and pants harshly as Chris pulls the vibrator away, throwing it somewhere along the bed as he moves from behind her.

He settles between her legs, looking down at her dripping cunt. His eyes drift back up to her face, her dazed eyes meeting his. He pulls his sweats down along with his boxers, his aching cock slapping is abdomen. She whimpers seeing his large member, eager to be filled, yet scared about how sensitive she is.

He lines himself up, swiping his tip through her folds and watching the way she flitches as he nudges her clit. In one swift movement, he slips inside of her, the air being knocked out of her lungs. He pushes her legs to her chest, setting a brutal and fast pace.

Tears were rushing down her face, her breathing erratic as she tried to slow him down, but he wasn't letting up.

Her body was on fire, she could feel everything yet nothing all at once. Incoherent babbles were tumbling from her mouth, and all Chris could do was coo at her.

He eventually does slow down, opting for long and harsh thrusts. She could feel every single ridge of his dick, his mushroom tip dragging along her aching and abused walls.

"C-can't ta - Yes you can." Chris urges, now using his thumb to swipe at her clit.

"Come on Bun, can feel you clamping down on me. Make a mess."

At his firm and encouraging words, her back arches as her legs spasm, her juices seeping out in large amounts.

Chris's own high follows soon after, the milky white liquid coating her walls and her puffy lips. She lies upon the bed looking like a full-on mess. Her thighs were completely soaked, a thin layer of sweat covering her body. Her hair was frizzy, the tight curls looking as if they were brushed out.

He attempts to clean up their mess, going to wipe between her legs, only to stop when she snaps them shut and whines. Thinking quickly, he goes to her bathroom and runs them a bath.

Soon enough, the two are in the tub, Chris holding her as she lies half asleep in the hot water.

"You relaxed now Bun?"

She hums sleepily, still completly spent and fucked out from Chris's so called apology. He chuckles softly and begins to lather her body in soap, mumbling sweet and soft words as she falls into a deeper sleep.

[imzhouxinyu]

BROKE GiRLS CODE ( l.hs )

──── pairing : bsf brother!lee heeseung x fem!reader

──── synopsis : Heeseung was the unapologetic rebel your sister warned you about: tattooed slacker who always hung around your house because he happened to be your best friend’s older brother. But after a tipsy truth or dare that ends with a secret the two of you had promised would never get out, the last thing you expected was for his friends to blab everything… to your sister. Now, while your family’s trust is on the line, your friendships are on the verge of collapse and Heeseung seems to be the only one remotely interested, you find yourself asking what truly happened that night: was it a mistake brought on by too much alcohol, or had both of you broken the code long before then?

──── theme : slowburn , friends to lovers , best friend’s brother trope, smut , angst, fluff.

──── warnings : nsfw mdni , unprotected sex , oral (f.rec) , dom!heeseung sub!femreader , light degration & praise , manhandling , rough sex , size kink, possessive and jealous hee !

──── taglist : @shyoko

You met Heeseung the summer before your second year of college.

You knew of him because he was Yunah’s older brother, he was attractive, nonchalant, he had the perfect body and he was cool. The type who made everyone shut up when he walked into a room.

He didn’t talk much, but when he did, it was always clever. Smooth.

He had this stare that stayed in your mind, forever.

You used to think it meant nothing.

You were wrong.

The thing was: you saw him everywhere.

He was always crashing on the couch after basketball practice, walking around shirtless in the kitchen, teasing Yunah with his other friends while she was with you.

You weren’t supposed to be watching him. But you did.

And maybe he noticed.

One night, you were curled up on the floor in your pajamas, scrolling your phone while the others argued over movie picks, and Heeseung leaned against the wall, eyes on you, and said, “You always sit like that?”

You blinked. “Like what?”

He gave a lazy half-smirk. “Like you want someone to pull you into their lap.”

Your breath caught.

You didn’t respond.

You shouldn’t have.

Because it wasn’t just teasing anymore.

It was something else.

Things were changing slowly.

He’d offer you sips of his drink when no one was looking. Sit next to you even when there was a free seat across the room. Brush your hand on the staircase, low enough no one noticed.

He called you princess once, just once, and the way your thighs clenched was embarrassing.

You told yourself he didn’t mean it.

You told yourself he did.

It got worse when your friends started teasing you.

“Why do you blush every time Heeseung breathes?” Karina said.

“He literally just exists,” Winter added, rolling her eyes.

But Ningning looked at you knowingly. “You want him, don’t you?”

You denied it.

Too fast, almost suspiciously.

Because you didn’t want to want him.

He was Yunah’s brother.

Your best friend’s brother.

That’s girl code 101.

You didn’t break rules like that.

Until the night he found you crying in the kitchen.

You’d just failed a midterm. Your group project fell apart. You fought with Minji. Everything collapsed at once.

You thought everyone had gone to bed.

But Heeseung walked in, sleepy-eyed, shirtless, holding a glass of water.

And paused.

“You good?”

You were sobbing , wiping your eyes fast. “Yeah..just, ugh..I can’t even..”

He leaned against the counter. “What happened?”

You didn’t mean to tell him.

But you did.

And he listened.

Really listened.

No teasing. No smirks. Just quiet understanding.

Then he reached forward, brushed a thumb under your eye, and whispered, “You work so hard. You don’t deserve to break over things like this.”

Your chest cracked open.

Heeseung kept his hand there. Just long enough to make you feel safe.

Wanted.

After that, it spiraled, you guys started to get closer and closer each time. Late night calling, private talks, gaming.. things he used to do with only his ex.

That moment on the balcony when he pressed you to the railing, breath warm on your neck.

The way he looked at your lips but didn’t kiss you.

“Why do you keep doing that?” you whispered once.

He smirked. “Doing what?”

“Acting like you want to kiss me, then pulling away.”

His eyes darkened.

“Because I do.”

You froze.

“But if I start,” he murmured, leaning close, “I won’t stop at just kissing you.”

Your knees went weak.

You thought about that line for weeks.

You told yourself you were over it.

That it was just lust. Just tension.

But one night, lying in bed with Giselle and Ningning gossiping beside you, you realized it wasn’t that.

You liked his voice. The way he called people out gently. How he always handed Yunah the remote even though she never asked.

You liked him.

Really liked him.

And that’s when it hit you.

You were absolutely fucked.

Because you didn’t just want him for just fucking and getting over ur shitty ex..

You wanted his heart.

And then , it came Jake’s party.

You hadn’t planned to go. But everyone was going. Yunah insisted. Ningning dressed you in a tiny black skirt and told you to “act like you own the whole house.”

Heeseung was already there when you walked in. Leaning on the kitchen island. Red solo cup in hand.

He looked up.

And froze.

You knew that look, it was hunger.

The game of truth or dare started halfway through the night. Loud music. Too many drinks. Heeseung beside you again, drunk.

“Truth,” he said.

Jake grinned. “Ever thought about fucking someone in this room?”

Everyone laughed.

But Heeseung?

He looked straight at you.

Didn’t say your name.

Didn’t have to.

The air shifted.

Your whole body flushed, your thighs clenching.

After that, it was a blur.

You went upstairs.

His hand in yours.

Heeseung didn’t wait.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, he had you pressed against it, his mouth crashing into yours like he’d been starving. The taste of alcohol lingered between you, but nothing dulled the heat. His hands gripped your hips tight—too tight—and you moaned into the kiss, letting him devour you.

“You know how long I’ve been waiting for this?” he growled, voice thick and ragged. “Watching you walk around like you don’t fucking know what you do to me?”

“Heeseung—” you gasped, dizzy.

“Wearing that tiny skirt,” he murmured, sliding a hand beneath it, his fingers dragging up your thigh. “All night. Like you wanted me to snap.”

“I did,” you whispered.

That was all it took.

He spun you, pressing your chest to the door, grinding his hard cock against your ass.

“You’ve got no fucking idea what you just gave me permission to do,” he breathed, kissing up the back of your neck.

You whimpered when his hand slid into your panties—fingers instantly finding how soaked you were.

“Fuck, baby,” he growled. “You’re dripping.”

You arched into his touch. “Please—”

“What do you want?” he asked darkly, slipping one thick finger inside you. “Tell me.”

“You. I want you.”

He turned you around so fast your back hit the wood with a thud. His mouth crashed into yours again, desperate, hungry, needy. He walked you backward toward the bed, never breaking the kiss, until your knees hit the edge.

“You’ve got no idea what you do to me,” he said, dragging your panties down. “Every time you laugh. Every time you act all innocent when you’re clearly just waiting for someone to put you in your place.”

He shoved you gently onto the mattress and dropped to his knees.

“You’ve been teasing me for months,” he muttered, spreading your thighs wide. “It’s only fair I get to make a mess of you now.”

You barely managed to gasp before his mouth was on your pussy—tongue licking a long, slow stripe up your center.

Your head fell back. “Oh my God—”

He groaned against you like he couldn’t get enough. His tongue moved with precision—circling your clit, then flicking fast, then sucking just enough to make your legs tremble.

You fisted the sheets, arching off the bed. “Fuck, I’m gonna—”

“Go ahead,” he muttered between licks. “Cum for me, pretty girl. Right on my fucking tongue.”

You shattered.

Your thighs clamped around his head, your hips jerking as waves of pleasure tore through you. He held you down, let you ride it out, his lips never leaving your heat until you were whimpering from the overstimulation.

When he finally pulled back, his mouth was glistening. And his eyes? Ravenous.

“Still with me?” he asked.

You nodded, breathless.

“Good. Because I’m not fucking done.”

He stripped in seconds—shirt, jeans, boxers—until he was standing in front of you, hard and heavy between his thighs, his veins popping, tip flushed.

Your eyes widened.

He smirked.

“Think you can take it?”

“Please,” you whispered.

He leaned down, kissing you slowly this time. “You sure about this? Because once I fuck you, baby, that’s it.”

Your heart pounded.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

That’s all he needed.

He climbed on top of you, lined himself up at your entrance—bare, hot, throbbing.

And slid in.

Raw. No condom. No barrier. Just you and him and all that heat and skin and emotion crashing into one breathless, broken moan.

“Fuck—you feel too good,” he hissed, burying himself deeper. “So tight. So warm. You were made for me.”

You clung to his shoulders, nails digging into his back as he filled you to the hilt.

The stretch was overwhelming. He was big—thick, heavy—but you took all of him.

“Look at that,” he whispered against your neck. “Taking me so well. Letting me fuck you raw. So fucking desperate for me.”

He started moving—slow, deep thrusts that made your whole body tremble.

The room was filled with the sound of skin on skin, moans, whispered curses. Your name on his lips. His name on yours.

“You’re mine,” he growled, picking up the pace. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped.

“Again.”

“I’m yours, Heeseung—fuck—I’m yours!”

He wrapped his hand around your throat—not squeezing, just holding—and drove into you harder.

“You’re gonna cum for me again,” he growled. “Let me feel it. Let me feel you fall apart on my cock.”

You were already there.

Your body tensed. Your legs wrapped around his waist. You came with a cry, pulsing around him.

That sent him over the edge.

“Shit—gonna fill you up,” he groaned. “Gonna cum inside this perfect pussy.”

You gasped.

And then you felt it—warm, thick, deep. His release spilling inside you with a low, broken moan as he buried himself to the base.

He didn’t pull out right away.

Just hovered over you, breath ragged, forehead pressed to yours.

“You’re fucking mine now.”

You nod, frantically, still panting.

You didn’t know what you got urself into.

Because a week later, everything shattered.

Someone blurted it out at another party.

“Yeah, Heeseung and her? They fucked upstairs at Jake���s. Ask him.”

The room went silent.

Yunah stared.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

Your blood went cold.

You were done for.

You ran out of the room.

He didn’t follow.

Didn’t call.

Didn’t defend you.

And that hurt worse than anything.

You cried for days.

Minji threatened to kill him.

Winter said “I told you so.”

Karina and Hanni held your hands.

But nothing helped.

Because it wasn’t just sex.

You loved him.

And he let you think it meant nothing.

The night it rained, he showed up on your street, hoodie soaked, eyes wrecked.

And whispered, “I love you.”

You slammed the door in his face.

He knocked again.

“I was scared,” he said. “Scared that I wanted something I couldn’t have. But I never meant to hurt you. Please—let me fix this.”

You looked at him.

At the boy who broke you.

The boy who made you feel like everything.

And you whispered, “One chance.”

He pulled you into his arms like he’d never let go.

Now with heeseung?

He kisses you slow.

Loves you softer.

Fucks you like he means it.

You still catch Yunah giving him death stares. But she’s trying.

Because even she sees it now.

Heeseung doesn’t just want you.

He’s yours.

And he always was.

Even when it broke every rule in the girls book.

[uncuredturkeybacon]

𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 || 𝚗𝚒𝚔𝚊 𝚖ü𝚑𝚕 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which you surprise her with a trip

You noticed the slump in her shoulders before she even said a word.

Nika had always been vibrant—laughing too loud, talking with her hands, dancing in the kitchen even when there was no music. But ever since the game where it happened, she’s been quiet in ways you’re not used to. It’s not just the crutches or the brace on her leg—it’s her silence, her sighs, the way she looks out the window like she’s somewhere else entirely.

You’ve watched her scroll through photos of home more than once lately. Zagreb sunrises. Her mom’s cooking. Her dad hugging her in a grainy, low-res photo from her high school days. She never says anything, but you see it.

So you make a plan.

You talk to her doctors. You work with her agent to make sure the travel won’t mess with her rehab. You email her mom in secret. You book the flights.

And then you wait.

She leans against you at the airport, brows furrowed as she stares at the departure board.

“Nika,” you murmur, a little too pleased with yourself. “Gate 47.”

She blinks, then does a double take. “Wait—Zagreb? Are you serious?”

You grin. “Surprise.”

Nika stares at you, jaw slack, before slowly breaking into a stunned, watery smile. “You’re joking.”

“Nope.” You reach into your bag and pull out two passports. “We’re going home, baby.”

Her face crumples just a bit, tears building before she even speaks. “You planned all this?”

You nod. “I’ve been watching you miss it. I figured… maybe what you need isn’t just rest. Maybe it’s your roots.”

Nika throws her arms around you, hugging you tight enough to make your ribs creak. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Shut up,” you whisper into her hair, grinning. “You absolutely do.”

The flight is long, and her knee gets sore halfway through, but you spend it leaning on each other, watching movies and holding hands under the blanket. And when you land, the late afternoon light over Zagreb feels like something sacred. Nika’s eyes never stop moving, drinking in every billboard, every familiar street sign, every patch of sky that looks like her childhood.

Her mom is waiting outside the gate. The second Nika sees her, the world tilts.

“Mama,” she whispers, already crying again.

They crash into each other like they’re still tethered by something invisible. You hold back, giving them space, until her mom pulls back and beckons you forward with warm eyes and open arms.

“You must be the angel,” she says, accented but clear, hugging you like you’re already family.

You blush. “Hi, Mrs. Mühl. Thank you for letting me—”

“Nonsense. You brought my daughter home. You can stay forever,” she says, waving off your gratitude with a wink. “Come. Your room is ready. And your favorite soup is on the stove, Nika.”

Nika groans, delighted. “Is it grah?”

Her mom beams. “Of course.”

That night, you curl up with Nika in her childhood bedroom, surrounded by faded posters and UConn clippings on the walls. She’s wearing one of her old high school jerseys and an oversized pair of pajama pants.

“I can’t believe you did this,” she murmurs, fingers tracing your wrist under the covers.

“I’d do it again.”

“I needed this so bad,” she admits, voice cracking. “I didn’t even realize how much until I stepped off that plane.”

You kiss her temple. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. You would’ve said no.”

Nika chuckles softly. “Yeah… probably.”

You squeeze her hand. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. Not with me.”

She lets herself cry then, but it’s soft, like rain tapping against a window. She clings to you until her breathing slows, and when she falls asleep in your arms, you swear she smiles for the first time in weeks.

The next morning, her dad insists on taking you both for a walk through the neighborhood, laughing at the stories they share.

“She broke her front tooth right there,” he says, pointing to a crooked curb. “Chased a dog on a scooter. Boom. Face plant.”

Nika groans. “Tata, don’t tell them that.”

You snort. “Oh no, I need photos. Immediate proof.”

“Ugh. I regret this entire trip,” she mutters, but she’s grinning.

Later, Nika takes you down winding cobblestone paths into the Old Town.

“This,” she says, pointing to a tiny bakery, “was where I used to sneak out to get burek before school. Don’t tell my mom.”

You raise a brow. “You were a food rebel?”

“I was a menace,” she confirms proudly. “Come on. You have to try the cheese one.”

You walk together through the city, hand in hand, stopping for coffee in a sun-drenched square where a guitarist plays old Croatian folk songs. Nika hums along under her breath, foot tapping lightly.

At the coast, a few days later, she shows you her favorite place in the world, a rocky overlook that juts into the Adriatic, just far enough from the beach to feel like your own private universe.

“This is where I used to come when I didn’t want to talk to anyone,” she says, settling beside you on a flat stone. “Just… sit and breathe.”

The water glimmers in the late light, and you turn to look at her. “You don’t have to be alone here anymore.”

Nika looks at you, eyes full of something quiet and infinite. “I don’t want to be.”

You stay for ten days. You help her mom make sarma and her dad teaches you how to say curse words in Croatian. Nika teaches you how to dance at a small village festival. You read to her when her knee hurts. She plays old home videos for you on the TV in the living room, curled up with her head on your lap.

On the last night, her parents throw a small dinner. Her mom kisses both your cheeks and thanks you again. Her dad lifts a glass and says, “To love. The kind that brings you home.”

Nika squeezes your hand beneath the table.

At the airport gate again, this time heading back to Seattle, Nika leans into you with a soft, faraway look.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“For what?”

“For knowing what I needed… even when I didn’t.”

You smile and kiss her knuckles. “That’s what love is, isn’t it?”

She nods.

And you both board the plane—not back to the life you left, but toward something new. Something a little more whole.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧

Sylus

Part 1

Pairing: Sylus x f!Reader

Summary: Sylus has the whole girl dad thing down to a t, though you'd disagree.

Warnings: Fluff

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi - Bluesky

Becoming a father again is certainly a tumultuous situation. Sylus isn’t the same man that he once was. His knees hurt from doing the simplest tasks, and he doesn’t have the same energy he did when he had his son. Nonetheless, he was ecstatic. 

Sylus wasn’t sure what he would do, especially not with a girl. But once he held the little bean in his arms, it’s as if it was programmed into his brain. The task was simpler than he could’ve imagined.

Spoil her rotten.

“Papa!” His little girl yells, making sure her daddy follows along. Diana is a headstrong little girl who loves her daddy more than anything– That is because Sylus spoils her rotten. Anything she wants, she gets. Both from her father, and older brother. “Koen!”

“We’re following, sweetie.” Sylus responds, though that isn’t a good enough answer for her. The three-year-old wants both her father and brother to walk alongside her, not behind her.

“What do you want to show us?” Koen asks, wondering if he’s wasting time by going with her. He’s supposed to meet up with some friends in an hour or so and he’s still wearing pajamas. 

“Yes, what are you up to?” Sylus’ eyebrows perk up. Amusement flows through him, but he won’t laugh just yet. He knows that the little girl is up to something, Sylus can feel the mischief cloud that surrounds her. 

There’s silence. Sylus has taught his little girl one thing: don’t confess to your crimes. Ever. She knows that much. But there’s something that Sylus forgot to teach her in Crime 101.

“Why are we going to dad’s room?” Koen furrows his eyebrows, preparing himself for the worst. The boy is right, Sylus failed to notice that they’re going to his room.

There’s no answer again, and this time it worries Sylus. Just what exactly did Diana do? He’s about to ask her what she did, though he knows it’s to no avail. She knows better than anyone to not confess her crimes.

It’s a good thing that he doesn’t have to wait too long to find out, because once the door to his room opens, he sees the catastrophe that Diana has caused in the room. The cool air suddenly gets hot, and Sylus begins to get heart palpitations. 

“Oh! This is going to be good!” Koen exclaims, seeing the mess that’s in the room. The teenager bursts into laughter while Sylus begins to sweat.

Sylus isn’t scared of anything– Well, he is scared of one thing and that’s his wife. The wife that warned him about letting Diana get away with everything. You told him he should start disciplining his little girl more often. The man didn’t listen, and now it bites him in the ass.

“Mama’s makeup!” She points out, and Sylus tries to process the mess that she’s made. All of your precious makeup is scattered over the room. Splatters of foundation on the bed sheets, the lipstick spilled over Sylus’ precious rug, crumbled eyeshadow on the nightstand. Sylus will die tonight and resurrect three days later.

It’s not that he can’t afford it, it’s about the principle.

“Koen, get the materials. We have a cleanup.” Sylus says, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt since he has to clean up a dead body. In this case, your makeup unless he wants to become the dead body.

“You don’t like it?” She asks with tearful eyes, making Sylus clicks his tongue. It seems that it’s time to teach her the second lesson in Crime 101: Never mess with mommy’s things.

He guesses this is his punishment for spoiling her a little too much. And as he stares at the mess while the teenager gets everything needed for a clean up, Sylus can only think of one thing… He’d absolutely do it again.

[sturniololuvz]

chris introducing his new girlfriend to his son, and hes like 4

“Chris…’s Girlfriend”

Chris had been stressing all day.

He wasn’t usually nervous. But this? This felt different.

Because dating when you’re a single dad is one thing — introducing your new girlfriend to your four-year-old son is another entirely.

So he’d cleaned the apartment twice, laid out snacks like it was a kindergarten birthday party, and practiced what he was going to say in the mirror more times than he’d ever admit.

And now she was here. Y/N. Standing in his kitchen, looking every bit as kind and beautiful as she always did.

“You okay?” she asked, noticing the way his knee was bouncing.

“Yeah. Totally. Just, y’know… introducing the two most important people in my life. No pressure.”

She smiled and reached for his hand. “It’s going to be fine.”

He nodded, exhaled, then called out:

“Buddy? Can you come here for a sec?”

Tiny footsteps padded down the hall.

A mop of curly hair peeked around the corner.

He looked at Y/N. Then at Chris. Then back at Y/N.

Chris crouched down. “Hey, this is my friend Y/N. She’s really special to me.”

His son blinked, very serious.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

Chris coughed. “Yeah, she is.”

The boy took a step forward. “Do you like dinosaurs?”

Y/N smiled. “I love dinosaurs.”

Another pause.

“Even the meat-eating ones?”

“Especially the meat-eating ones.”

Chris watched, barely breathing.

Then — the boy gave a small nod. “Okay. You can stay.”

Y/N laughed softly. “Thank you. I appreciate the invitation.”

“Do you wanna see my T-Rex? He roars.”

“I would love to.”

Chris stood there stunned, watching his son take Y/N’s hand and lead her down the hall toward his room like it was nothing.

She glanced back, eyes sparkling.

Chris mouthed, Thank you.

And Y/N?

She just smiled. Like she already belonged.

⸻It had been a few months now.

Y/N had slowly become part of the rhythm of their days — bedtime stories, dino puzzles, making pancakes shaped like T-Rexes (or at least trying to). She never overstepped, never pushed. She just loved — gently, steadily, the way only someone who truly cared could.

Chris noticed every time. And every time, it made his heart feel a little fuller.

Tonight, she was helping with pajamas. The little boy was yawning like crazy, one sock on and the other mysteriously missing.

Chris was in the living room cleaning up spilled goldfish crackers when he heard it.

“Mommy, can you help me with this?”

Silence.

A pause.

Chris froze.

He turned around slowly.

Y/N was crouched in the doorway of the bedroom, the little boy standing in front of her, sleep-drunk and tugging at his pajama shirt.

She looked stunned — not in a bad way, just like someone trying to process something huge.

Chris stepped closer, heart thudding. “What did you say, bud?”

The boy blinked, completely unbothered. “I said Mommy. Can she help?”

Y/N looked at Chris like she was waiting to be told it was a mistake — that this wasn’t her role to fill.

But Chris just walked over, knelt beside them both, and gently cupped his son’s cheek.

“You can call her that if you want to,” he said softly. “If it feels right to you.”

The boy nodded simply, content. “She makes the best pancakes.”

Y/N’s eyes welled up immediately.

Chris looked at her, tears creeping in too, and whispered, “You don’t have to say anything. But… if you wanna stay forever, I’m pretty sure we’re both all in.”

She nodded, wiping at her face.

“I already was.”

⸻

[moondustbaby]

Country Club

bsf!Rafe x bsf!Reader

a/n: this was requested by my love @mariechristine00 🥰

summary: Rafe brings you to Barry’s for a “quick” drug run. Barry flirts, you stir the pot, and Rafe’s one sarcastic comment away from losing it. Chaos, jealousy, and one very annoyed country club boy.

⸻

You know it’s a trap the second he walks in.

Rafe’s already got that look on his face—eyebrows raised, chewing on the inside of his cheek like he’s about to ask you for something real stupid.

“What?” you ask, not even looking up from your phone.

“Come with me real quick.”

You blink. “No.”

“C’mon, just real fast. You don’t even have to get outta the truck.”

Your eyes narrow. “Where?”

Rafe scratches the back of his neck. “…Barry’s.”

You drop your phone on the couch. “Oh, so a terrible idea. Got it.”

“You said you were bored!”

“I said I was bored, not suicidal.”

Rafe groans and throws his head back dramatically. “It’ll take ten minutes. I swear. Just—come for moral support.”

You snort. “You need moral support to buy drugs?”

“I need you to not make me go deal with Barry alone.”

You cross your arms. “Why?”

Rafe hesitates. “Because… he’s weird.”

You grin. “Fine. But if he offers me crack and a foot rub again, I’m blaming you.”

⸻

The trailer is already in sight, and you’re barely out of the truck before Rafe mutters, “Just… don’t say anything. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t encourage him.”

“Rafe,” you say sweetly, “when have I ever done that?”

He stares at you.

You grin, teeth and chaos. “Okay, but today’s a new day.”

He groans.

Barry opens the door before Rafe can even knock, wearing an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, pajama pants, and one sock. “Well, well, well. If it ain’t country club and his girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Rafe says instantly.

“Ouch,” you mutter, stepping past him. “Didn’t even hesitate.”

Barry winks. “You can do better, sweetheart. He’s all money and daddy issues.”

You snort. “You’re not wrong.”

“Hey!” Rafe looks betrayed. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“I go where the laughs are,” you say, gesturing vaguely at Barry.

Barry grins like the devil himself and leans back against the wall, eyeing you up and down like you’re on the menu. “I’m just sayin’, if you’re ever tired of private school temper tantrums, I got a lawn chair and a half a bottle of Fireball with your name on it.”

Rafe makes a strangled noise behind you.

You bat your lashes. “Do you also have a working toilet this time, or…?”

“Only for special guests.”

You can feel Rafe vibrating.

“Okay, let’s just—get the shit and go,” he mutters, already fishing cash out of his pocket.

Barry, of course, is in no rush.

He takes his sweet time wandering to the back room, hollering over his shoulder, “You want somethin’? I got edibles, oxy, and a Nintendo DS with Mario Kart.”

“I kinda want the DS,” you whisper.

Rafe shoots you a look. “I swear to God—”

Barry returns with a baggie and offers it directly to you, like Rafe isn’t even there. “Here you go, darlin’. Hand-delivered.”

Rafe steps between you so fast it’s like muscle memory. “Give it to me.”

Barry shrugs, smug. “Protective, huh?”

“She doesn’t need you being a creep,” Rafe snaps.

You lean around him, fully amused. “It’s okay, Rafe. He called me *darlin’. That’s southern gentleman behavior.”

Barry nods. “Exactly. I’m like a backwoods Romeo.”

Rafe is glaring so hard you’re mildly concerned his eyeballs might pop out.

“She’s not flirting back,” he mutters. “She’s just being annoying.”

You shrug. “I don’t know, Rafe. He does have a lawn chair.”

Barry perks up. “And I’ll let you pick the playlist. No country club shit.”

You giggle.

Rafe looks like he might combust. “We’re leaving.”

You wave over your shoulder. “Thanks for the offer, Barry. I’ll think about it.”

Barry calls after you, “You change your mind, you know where I’m at! And bring a bikini next time!”

Rafe slams the truck door so hard you flinch.

You’re silent for two seconds before you cackle.

“Country club,” you wheeze. “That’s so good—”

“Don’t,” Rafe says, jaw clenched, eyes locked on the road like he’s trying to summon God with sheer will.

You keep laughing.

“He was flirting with you,” Rafe says finally, voice tight.

“I know,” you grin.

“And you liked it.”

“Oh, I loved it,” you say, absolutely shameless.

Rafe looks like he’s going to have a stroke. “You’re a menace.”

“Correct.”

“You were flirting back.”

“Maybe.”

“Unbelievable.”

You lean back in your seat, smug as hell. “You’re fun when you’re jealous.”

He whips his head toward you. “I’m not jealous.”

“Rafe.”

He doesn’t respond.

You nudge him with your foot. “You totally are.”

“I just don’t like weird swamp guys looking at you like you’re on sale at Walmart.”

You grin. “You don’t think I’m hot enough to be on sale at Target?”

He groans. “Shut up.”

You keep poking. “You got all huffy. Were you gonna fight him?”

“If he touched you? Yeah.”

Your heart does a weird little skip. “You’re protective.”

He mutters something under his breath.

You smirk. “What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Sounded like you said I was yours.”

“Didn’t.”

You lean in closer, tone all syrup and teasing. “Say it.”

“No.”

“Say it.”

“No.”

You pout. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t wanna say it in the middle of a drug deal gone wrong while you’re still giggling about Barry calling me country club.”

“That’s exactly when you should say it,” you argue.

He slams on the brakes in the middle of the road.

“Rafe—”

He turns to you, eyes sharp, voice low. “You’re mine.”

Your breath catches.

“Got it?” he says, like it’s not up for discussion.

You blink. “Say it again.”

“You’re mine.”

You bite your lip.

“Still think Barry’s funny?” he asks.

You pause. “Yeah, but like… you’re kinda hot when you’re mad, so I’m having a great time.”

He stares at you for a long beat.

Then he leans over and kisses you—fast and annoyed and really good.

When he pulls back, your head’s spinning.

“Still laughing?” he asks, smirking now.

You blink. “Not out loud.”

He shifts the truck back into gear.

But as he starts driving again, you mumble under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear—

“…country club.”

Rafe groans like he regrets everything.

༶⋆｡ﾟ☽✿⋆˚✧✿☾ﾟ｡⋆༶

a/n: barry was out of pocket. rafe was unwell. you were unbothered. no one won. except you. because you got kissed and chaos. this was so fun to write i love their dynamic! thank you for the request lovieee 🥰

♥️ lani

Send Me Requests!

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𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉:

@psychicnatural @superlegend216

[greeniegirl23]

"Take Care.." (Sick! Alastor x Reader)

A.K.A Alastor trying to fight being ill.

Also inspired by @degenerativeficdisease latest post. Go check out

https://www.tumblr.com/degenerativeficsdisease/782930143572377600/to-break-a-fever

---------------------------------

"Alastor for the love of fuck, go sit down!!" You yelled at him for almost the hundredth time.

"Never!!" He protested, voice ladened with stuffy sinuses and thick static while he attempted to sit upright at his mahogany desk.

Alastor was stubborn, this much you knew. On a daily basis, it was hard to change his mind about little things. Especially if he didn't agree with them for whatever reason, but you didn't know how truly headstrong he could be until today. When he woke up with a fever of 104.3, (and the only reason you knew that is because you damn there shoved the thermometer down his throat..) refusing to rest but instead, trudge through the illness like an idiot. Which is why you were yelling at him as he attempted to get dressed for the day at the pace of a drunken snail.

You've been trying to get him into bed for the past two hours, but every time he refuted you with some bullshit response. "I don't need rest darling, I survived through the Yellow Fever pandemic--!" He coughed violently. You could literally hear the gross phlegm in his lungs as he hacked like an old smoker before sniffling. "..I'll be fine."

Honestly, he didn't even know how much he believed that at the moment. In Hell, everything was worse, including illness and getting sick. He wouldn't dare tell you, but he knew that you knew that he felt like shit. Every movement was agonizing as he put on his typical attire. Muscles aching with every move, his eyes could barely stay open, he felt delirious really and had resorted to breathing through his mouth because his nostrils were clogged with mucus.

"Yes you will be," You sighed, pressing your fingers tips to your temple in frustration. "But not if you keep going at this rate. Seriously, you look terrible."

He's expression was irritated as he looked at you with puffy eyes and an exhausted face. "I haven't the slightest idea what you mean..."

"Don't be difficult Al."

"But it suits me so well!" He tried to sound upbeat and smarmy as usual until a loud microphone feed back made you jump, heavy static spiking in volume in a row of four.

"Fucking hell! What was that?!"

Alastor rolled his eyes. "Have you never heard a man sneeze before?"

"That was a sneeze?" You replied. "It sounded like mating call of something ungodly.."

His loopy eyes squinted at you. "Never say that again.."

"Only if you get into bed and rest. You cannot go around like this. Especially sneezing like that, you might mesh frequencies and blow up a radio or something."

"I'm afraid my powers don't work like that darling."

"Whatever!" You yelled, grabbing him by his arm and dragging him back towards his plush king sized bed. "I don't care if you still want to work, it can wait."

"But--"

You immediately cut him off by firmly pushing him on to the mattress. Later on when he was better, he vowed he'd get revenge on you for having the audacity to touch him, let alone push him, but at the moment he could care less. Sinking into the mattresses plushness, allowing it to cradle his aching bones from this accursed fever.

He let out a groan of pain? Relief? He had no idea as he allowed the mattress to embrace him.

While he sat there melting in the best and worst way possible, you went over to his dresser and pulled out some of his pajamas, throwing them next to him you told his shadows to help him change while you were going to go downstairs and get some essentials.

As soon as you made it to the lobby. You made sure to inform Charlie that Alastor wasn't doing well today and that whatever work he had to do would be late.

Of course she agreed and told you to take as much time as he needed. After that you went into the kitchen and got started on some soup. You know he was a stinker for flavors and food made from scratch, so you did it the long way and managed to make some very tasty venison, rice, and vegetable soup. With just a bit of Southern kick, it would help with his congestion.

A quick look into the pantry and you got some other things too. A pitcher of ice water, some cold meds, a few of his favorite snacks like coffee pecans and minty-lemon candies he'd gotten from one of Rosie's tea parties last week.

Together with the help of his shadows, you brought the things back to his room only to find him sprawled on the bed like a starfish.

He had moved all his blankets to the foot of the bed, despising them because of the chills that wracked his body. The sheets and his pajamas were already a sweaty mess as he breathed heavily with his night shirt unbuttoned. If it wasn't for the fact that he was such a pain, you might have thought of this moment as cute or even hot.

But no, now wasn't the time for that.

Immediately you moved him aside to set up his pillows behind him, propping him up so you could feed him something before the meds. Foggy with fever, you heard him mumble "No maman.." the exhaustion evident in his voice. "Can't stay home..Gotta be at the station before one."

"Oh Alastor.." You hummed. Pressing a hand on his cheek, hoping that he'd snap into reality. It always made you sad to realize that deep down he was just a boy that made mistakes and missed his mother. The only person who could ever get through to him, who he ever truly loved, and would never see again.

Part of you wondered just how long had Alastor been a showman. Not just as a career or even a hobby, but as a way of life. He was a showman to the hotel, to Charlie, to his friends, hell, even to you sometimes. But you couldn't help but think if he was always a performer, even as a child. Did he put on air for his Mother? Was she the only one who ever knew who he really was?

These questions plagued your mind as you placed a cold rag on his head. He moaned at the relief, had you been in a cartoon, you were pretty sure you'd see steam coming off of his person as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

"Alastor? Alastor wake up." you called for him, shaking his shoulder. As much as you hated to wake, he needed to eat. Almost irritatedly, he blinked his eyes open. "..Darling.?"

"Yeah it's just me." You smiled, genuinely. "Come on and sit up, I made some food for you."

Taking a deep breath as if to prepare himself. Alastor used what little strength he had to prop himself up against the pillows more comfortably. Holding the bowl of soup in your hand, you scooped up a bit with the spoon to feed him. But much to your surprise--really, why are you surprised at him by this point-- Alastor instead took the bowl out of your hands and proceeded to drink from it as if it were a cup. He didn't stop to chew the chunks of meat or veggies, he didn't stop to blow it because it was still hot. Nothing. He quite literally just took it and swallowed it all. Leaving nothing behind except for a few grains of rice in the porcelain.

You blinked once. Twice. Then thrice.

"Alastor why did you?-"

He held up his hand somewhat limply, sniffling. "It's bad enough I have this damn fever and unforsaken chills, but I die twice before I allow you to feed me as if I were a helpless child. Besides, I am rather tired."

Something about what he said sent a stab in your heart. While you kinda understand him wanting to go back to sleep, the thought of him still putting a distance between you and his vulnerability still stung.

Instead of making a big deal out of it. You just placed the bowl back onto the serving tray and poured him a glass of cold water and giving him the meds. "Here, drink this and take these. It should help you feel better soon.."

Same as the soup, Alastor seemed to take the water happily, swallowing both it and the meds in one go. Before scooting back down into bed, still panting but not as much as before. Finally closing his eyes to go back to sleep.

"I'll take this stuff downstairs and leave you be for now." You stated, loud enough for him to hear and give you an ear twitch in response.

His expression was soft as he drifted off, seemingly cozy as he possibly could be in this state. With one arm draped over his stomach while the other laid in the open space of the bed.

Wondering if he knew that he had somewhat hurt your feelings, you had only taken about five steps away from him before a group of shadows had taken away the used dishes, while Alastor's doppelganger snatched you up and placed you right beside him on the bed.

You swore you heard a sleepy chuckle when you shrieked from getting plucked off the floor like a chicken feather, but when you were dropped by his side, you were surprised on how naturally he clung to you.

One leg draped over your body, his arms around your waist, while his head rested snugly on your bosom. There was nothing sexual about this, even calling this intimacy was a stretch, but you couldn't help but allow your heart to beat just a little faster. Swelling with love and adoration for him, something you always had that you thought he never noticed.

"Um Al?"

"Mmn..." Is the sound be made as he nuzzled into you more. Completely at home where he laid.

"I have to--"

"Stay." He mumbled. "You stay.."

You huffed. This asshole knew you couldn't say no to him, not while he was like this or even ever. So like a lady with a pet cat, you accepted your fate and stayed where you were. Allowing Alastor to finally fall completely asleep, with you following behind not too long after. Sleeping soundly in his bed, limbs tangled and hair messy, but it was okay.

Because you both felt right at home.

[mattnickchrisfan]

Hii!! Would you mind doing a fluff of Chris and the reader meeting? You have a lotta choice in this but I just thought it would be cute if they could flirt a little and see both POVs

Thanks so much💗💗💗

right place, right stranger - chris sturniolo x reader

summary: A coffee cart meet-cute with Chris turns electric when a flirty moment nearly becomes a first kiss neither of you can forget.

warning: fluff, dual pov, flirting, banter, kissing (almost...)

w.c: 840

a/n: thanks for such a great request anon! hope you guys enjoy!

[Your POV]

You weren’t even supposed to be out today.

You’d planned on spending your morning wrapped in blankets and self-pity. But no, your caffeine-deprived brain convinced you that a walk would "clear your head." Now you were standing in line at a coffee cart with a headache and a hoodie that didn’t quite cover the fact that you were in pajama pants.

That’s when you saw him.

The boy ahead of you in line was the definition of effortlessly distracting. Loose curls, sleepy eyes, a mouth that looked like it had either just told a joke or was about to.

And then…he caught you staring.

You quickly glanced away, pretending to examine the pastries like they weren’t all plastic-wrapped disappointments. But when you stepped up to order, he hadn’t walked away. He was waiting—standing near the milk and sugar with his cup in hand, looking casual but somehow still deliberate.

Your barista was saying something. You ordered on autopilot.

Then, like fate, he smiled at you.

[Chris’s POV]

It wasn’t the first time Chris had caught someone looking at him in public, but there was something different about this girl.

There wasn’t a phone out. She wasn’t whispering to a friend. Just watching him like she was trying to figure something out. Curious. Open. Bold.

That made him bold too.

He lingered by the side of the cart even after his drink was ready. He wasn’t good at this kind of thing—talking to strangers, breaking the script—but something told him she might actually be worth the stumble.

And then she said it.

"Cold for a hoodie," she teased, glancing at his sleeves.

He grinned, already hooked. “Yours or mine?”

[Your POV]

“I mean, mine’s doing emotional labor. I didn’t brush my hair today.”

Chris tilted his head slightly, pretending to study you. “Looks good. Like—deliberate chaos.”

“Oh, sick,” you deadpanned. “Like my dating history.”

That made him laugh, and it wasn’t just polite. It was real.

“I’m Chris,” he said, offering his hand.

You took it, and yeah, his palm was warm, his fingers gentle. It wasn’t just a handshake—it lingered. Just a second too long.

“Nice to meet you, Chris. I’m probably going to overthink this conversation later.”

He gave you a crooked grin. “Well, I won’t. But for the record, if I had to relive one awkward moment forever, this one’s a strong contender.”

You rolled your eyes, but the way he was looking at you…kind of like he saw you, it made your stomach flip.

[Chris’s POV]

This wasn’t usually him. Not this smooth, not this…interested. But something about her had this effortless pull. Like he’d already memorized her voice and didn’t know how.

“You ever use a pickup line on someone at a coffee cart before?” she asked, sipping her drink.

He smirked. “You want the one I almost used?”

“Hit me.”

Chris leaned in just enough for it to count. “Are you espresso? Because you’ve got me feeling jittery.”

She groaned, but her smile said she liked it. Maybe even him.

He walked with her toward the sidewalk, neither of them really knowing where they were going.

[You POV]

“Do you come around here often?” he asked.

“Only when I’m trying to flirt with guys who wear rings they fidget with.”

He looked down at his hand, caught, then smiled. “Gotta do something with my hands when I’m nervous.”

That made you pause. “Are you nervous now?”

Chris stopped walking. Just for a beat. His voice dropped—low and calm. “Yeah. But not in a bad way.”

You stood facing each other now, a little closer than necessary. Your drink was suddenly too warm in your hands.

“Do you want my number?” you asked softly.

Chris nodded. “Yeah. Definitely.”

You reached for your phone, but before you could unlock it, he touched your wrist lightly.

“But also…”

You looked up.

He was watching you with an unreadable expression. Something more than playful. A little more serious. A little more dangerous.

“I’m not usually this forward,” he said, “but you keep looking at my mouth.”

Your breath caught.

You didn’t deny it.

He took a step closer. Close enough to feel the heat coming off him. Close enough that you could smell coffee and cologne and something like citrus.

“If I kissed you right now,” he murmured, “would you still give me your number after?”

Your heart stuttered. Words stuck in your throat.

And just as you opened your mouth to answer—

someone called his name. Loud. Familiar.

He turned his head toward the voice—his phone was ringing in his back pocket, too—and in that second, the moment cracked.

He looked at you again, eyes full of conflict and heat.

“I have to go,” he said, voice low. “But I swear, I’m not walking away from this.”

You pressed your number into his palm with a marker from your bag.

“Then don’t,” you whispered.

He left with a glance over his shoulder—and you stood there, heart pounding, already wondering what would happen next.

[To Be Continued...]

a/n: ahhh these two are too cute!! let me know if you guys want a part 2

[loverstrings]

Project Spindle (Chapter Three) - Established Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

She’s always known about her powers, but the truth of where they come from could shatter everything.

a.n - i hate to say but this is one of my favorite chapters so far. the more i write these the more i have dreams about it LOL

spoiler warning for thunderbolts* | masterlist

The room went quiet.

Even Bob stopped fidgeting, his arms slowly lowering from where he’d been mid-dramatic stretch. Ava and Yelena exchanged a glance. Walker straightened from his lean against the wall, jaw tightening with attention. No one moved, but the air shifted—a kind of stillness only the closest teams learn to share.

Alexei emerged from the hallway, rubbing sleep from his eyes, pajama pants decorated with little red stars. He didn't joke, just took in the scene, waiting for the next direction.

Bucky nodded once beside her. “Briefing room?”

She gave a small nod back.

No one questioned it. They just followed.

A few minutes later, the team gathered around the conference table, the soft hum of the tower's tech panels the only sound. Y/N stood at the front, uploading the encrypted files Sam had sent earlier to the holographic display. Her hands shook just slightly as she moved—not from fear exactly, but from the weight of what came next.

Bob flopped into a chair but sat up straighter when he saw her expression. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

She hesitated before replying. “I don’t know. That’s kinda why we’re here.”

One by one, glowing images bloomed into the air—footage, research files, Hydra insignias. And her name. Again and again.

She took a breath and faced them. “I didn’t know about any of this until yesterday,” she began.

Bob shifted in his seat next to Ava, no longer trying to crack a joke. Ava tilted her head, brows drawing in.

“Is this only about your powers? Or something more?”

“Something more,” Y/N murmured. She turned back to the console and tapped a few keys. “Patch in Sam Wilson and Joaquin Torres.”

Connecting…

Joaquin’s projection appeared first, seated in what looked like a hangar bay. Sam followed a second later, arms crossed over his chest, concern etched into his features.

SAM WILSON (hologram): “Y/N? What’s going on?” JOAQUIN TORRES (hologram): “You good?”

Y/N glanced over her shoulder, meeting Bucky’s eyes for the briefest second before she faced the screen again.

“I’m alright,” she said with a long sigh. “I just need everyone here because I know this is bigger than me.”

There was a beat of silence. Alexei leaned back in his chair, arms crossed tightly as he squinted at the file headings behind her.

“Hydra?” he asked. “They always come back, like cockroach.”

Walker let out a quiet scoff from the other side of the room. “Of course it’s Hydra,” he muttered under his breath. “They’re like bad PR—you think it’s gone, then boom. Pops back up.”

Y/N ignored the commentary for now and kept going. “We need a game plan. This is more than me—this is also Wanda. We’ve seen it. She’s an extracted part of me.”

Alexei rubbed a hand over his beard, shaking his head. “This is like Frankenstein.”

Yelena nudged him sharply with her elbow. “Dad, shut up.”

Bucky hadn’t moved. “What do you want to do?” he asked her softly.

Y/N hesitated… then looked down at the console and took a steadying breath. “I need to patch in Wanda. And Steve.”

Walker stiffened a little, arms crossing. “You sure that’s a good idea?” 

“She deserves to know,” Y/N said simply. “So does he.”

No one argued.

She tapped the panel again. “Patch in Wanda Maximoff… and Steve Rogers.”

The system chirped.

Connecting…

Wanda appeared first, her hologram flickering beside Sam and Joaquin’s. Her red hair was tangled, her eyes darkened with fatigue and something deeper. Her voice, when it came, was quiet.

WANDA MAXIMOFF (hologram): “Y/N? Is everything okay?”

Y/N looked at her for a long second. Then she nodded once.

“Sam found something. About both of us.” She swallowed. “You were created with the Mind Stone. I wasn’t. Hydra used me… to make you.”

The silence this time was heavier. Wanda’s face shifted slowly—confusion, disbelief, grief.

Y/N stepped back slightly, as if retreating from the weight of her own words. “I thought it was just power signatures. But it wasn’t. They copied me. My genetics, my neural map, my abilities. Then they used the Stone to perfect the next iteration.”

STEVE ROGERS (hologram, joining): “I caught the tail end of that. Y/N… are you alright?”

Y/N turned to his image. “I don’t know. I want to say yes, but that would be a lie.”

Bucky finally moved closer, his hand brushing against hers at her side, grounding her. She didn’t look at him, but she leaned into the contact just enough.

SAM: “We think there’s something worth digging into at the old Sokovia sites. Pre-Strucker. Steve, your contacts might still have a line on the original lab records.”

JOAQUIN: “Most of the intel was wiped, but if we know what we’re looking for, we might be able to trace it.”

WANDA: “If what you’re saying is true…” Her voice wavered. “Then you and I are more connected than I ever understood.”

Y/N looked down at her hands. “I just hope we’re not too late to figure it all out.”

A long silence followed.

Then Bob, bless him, finally muttered, “So… no pressure, right?”

Ava elbowed him. “Bob.” 

“I’m just saying,” he grumbled.

Everyone turned back toward the files as they flickered again, casting a pale glow across the quiet room.

Y/N stood quietly for a beat, then looked up at the holograms and the team around her.

“There’s more,” she said. “I think whatever they used to build this—me, Wanda—whatever they left behind, it’s buried deep. Maybe Sokovia. Maybe wherever Strucker was operating before that. We’re not going to find the truth unless someone digs it up.”

Sam shook his head, already anticipating where this was headed. “If I go anywhere near those sites right now, it puts a target on all of us. Too many eyes on the new Cap.”

Joaquin nodded beside him. “Yeah. We’ve been under more surveillance lately—this kind of move could blow things open.”

Alexei leaned forward with a grunt. “Then I go. Who cares if they see? Let them come.”

Bucky didn’t even turn. “No.” His voice was firm. “Too risky. We need to keep some pressure off our side too.”

A heavy silence settled again. Then Wanda spoke, slower this time.

“I’ll go.” She glanced at the files. “If there’s something left in Sokovia, or before… I might be able to feel it.”

Steve’s projection nodded beside her. “We’re already off grid. We’ll check it out.”

Y/N looked at them both, something tired but resolute behind her eyes. “Thank you.”

“Do you want to keep going?” Bucky asked softly, just for her. “There’ll be more files. More answers.”

She didn’t hesitate. Her voice was quiet, but firm. “I have to. I need to know."

----

series taglist:

@rafesgurl, @seventeen-x, @moompie, @starstruckfirecat, @torntaltos, @rlphunter,

[graciegoeskrazy]

for you are so beautiful

(george daniel x daughter!indian!reader x charli xcx)

warnings: mention (kinda) of absent mother, r is half-indian btw, idrk

a/n: this was requested so long ago it’s actually insane. i’m so sorry anon but i hope u likely and i love u v v much💔🥹🫂 ty @writeslikeabitch for the encouragement as alwayssss. read request here!

Being quiet wasn’t unusual for you. You were a shy kid — able to be yourself in front of those you trusted, but keeping to yourself when things felt too much or when you didn’t feel like those around you could be trusted.

That’s where you were with Charli right now. She wasn’t completely new or scary. You definitely didn’t hate her. It’s just that you didn’t quite know how to navigate things like this.

You were only five, after all. Young enough to feel emotions intensely, but not quite old enough to understand where they came from or how to explain them.

That’s how you felt about Charli.

Your father had sat you down a couple of months ago and told you he had a new friend he wanted you to meet. He’d been different around that time. Happier. Softer. He wasn’t stressing over little things and moved through his days with a kind of lightness you hadn’t seen in a while.

He introduced you to Charli at a house party he and Uncle Matty were hosting. She made sure to come over early so she could meet you before your dad tucked you in for the night. You had hidden behind his legs, your thumb instinctively finding its familiar place in your mouth — a habit that hadn’t quite left you yet. She crouched down gently and offered a small “Hello,” a soft smile tugging at her lips.

“I’m Charli! It’s nice to meet you, Y/n.”

You met her gaze for only a second. George had warned her that you were shy around new people and told her not to take it personally.

“Can you say ‘hi,’ Y/n.?” he asked, gently tapping your shoulder to coax you out from behind him. You stepped out only a little, the soft ruffles on the straps of your nightgown fluttering slightly with the movement.

“Hi,” you finally said, your voice barely audible over the music blasting through the speakers Matty had set up — the noise doing nothing to calm your nerves.

Charli smiled at you. “I like your pajamas. I love purple — it’s my favorite color,” she said, giving you a playful wink.

You looked down at them, brushing your fingers over the little ruffled straps, then back at her. “My daddy got them for me.”

She nodded with a grin. “Well, your daddy’s got great taste, then. Huh?”

You just nodded, eyes falling to the floor again.

“Should we say goodnight to Miss Charli?” George prompted gently.

If there was one thing your father had taught you well, it was your manners.

“Goodnight, Miss Charli,” you said softly.

Her smile warmed. She shared a glance with George — one filled with something sweet and unspoken. “Goodnight, Y/n. It was really nice meeting you.”

George picked you up with practiced ease and told Charli he’d be right back as he passed by her, calling over his shoulder to Matty not to embarrass him or “fuck up anything in the ten minutes he’d be gone.”

You clung to him as he carried you up the stairs, your arms around his neck, face buried in his shoulder. When he got to your room, you reluctantly let go as he lowered you to the bed.

“Daddy and Uncle Matty are just downstairs. You give us a shout if you need anything, yeah?”

Instead of nodding, you looked at him, frowning a little in thought. “Is Miss Charli your girlfriend?”

George blinked. He nearly choked on his own breath.

He looked between the doorway and your wide, serious eyes. “What makes you say that?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

“She smiles at you funny. Like how Uncle Adam and Auntie Carly smile at each other,” you said plainly, your small voice cutting straight through.

A grin twitched at the corner of George’s mouth. “You think she likes me?”

You giggled and nodded. That sound — your laughter — was music to his ears. He’d take a hundred awkward questions if it meant hearing that again.

“How would you feel if she was my girlfriend?”

You paused, your face twitching as your mind tried to work through the question. Your head tilted slightly. “I… I don’t know. I don’t really know what that means.” A flicker of fear started to creep into your eyes, and George’s smile immediately softened.

“Hey… you don’t have to worry about that right now,” he said gently. “You just need to close your pretty little eyes—” he tapped your shoulder with two fingers, nudging you gently backward until you thumped onto the mattress with a small squeal “—and focus on getting some rest, yeah? No thinking about any of that adult stuff right now.”

You smiled up at him, reassured by his calm voice and familiar presence. “Okay, Daddy.”

“That’s my girl.” He pulled the covers up over your tiny frame, tucking them around you the way he always did — snug but gentle. He pressed a kiss to your temple, just like he had every night since the day you were born.

…

A few weeks had passed since then. George and Charli were spending more and more time together, falling harder than either of them expected.

It was tricky when you had a kid — especially one as young as you.

Charli sat next to you on the floor — per your request — coloring in a page from one of your books. A unicorn was happily eating a sandwich under a rainbow. Charli had her legs folded beneath her and her coffee cup beside her, left over from the drink George had made her earlier. She glanced at you, your small frame hunched over the coffee table, tongue poking out in deep concentration.

“I love your picture, Y/n,” she said, sipping her coffee. “Are those flowers?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, not looking up.

“They’re beautiful.”

You reached up to brush the hair from your face and, in doing so, caught sight of Charli’s arm. Your attention lingered there. You stared back and forth between her arm and your own.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly. ��Did I do something?”

“You look like me,” you said quietly.

“What?”

“Your arm. The color.” You held up your arm next to hers, lining them up side by side. “It matches.”

Charli looked down, her breath catching just slightly. “Oh! It kinda does, doesn’t it?”

You nodded, still not quite meeting her eyes.

“That’s cool, huh?” she offered gently.

“Why do they match?” you asked, your fingers still holding onto hers.

Charli took a breath. “Well, we’re both Indian.”

“What’s that mean?” you asked, curiosity blooming behind your eyes.

“It just means that our families are from a certain place — a country called India.”

“Oh.” You looked back down at your arms, pressed side by side. “They match.”

“They do, don’t they?” she said with a smile, something warm growing in her chest.

“I like when I match you,” you said, the words tumbling out without you thinking.

Charli blinked, stunned by the simple sweetness of it. Her heart melted right there on the floor.

“I like when I match you too,” she whispered, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You turned back to your coloring book, your tiny face scrunching in focus again. Charli didn’t pick up her crayon right away. She just stayed by your side, watching you for a while with a full heart and quiet admiration.

Eventually, she stood and wandered back to the kitchen, where George had been watching the whole thing unfold from a distance, wide-eyed and quiet, his arms folded but his expression soft.

She leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

“You have a type, Mr. Daniel?”

George’s mouth twitched. “Oh, piss off,” he muttered, trying to hide the smile that tugged at his lips — but not quite succeeding.

[goodgirlk]

Blue Eyes and the Lone Star Sky - Chapter 4

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Female OC

Warnings: Language, slight angst, phone sex, smut!, fingering, oral

WC: 9.7k

Notes: So sorry for the long wait! It has been a busy month but I am finally back to writing. First time writing smut so please let me know any thoughts or feedback!

“You did what?!” Lindsey’s voice rang from Tatum’s phone as she got ready for Paige’s game. She had thought about the kiss all night, needing to call one of her best friends to unpack what happened before seeing the blonde again. “Tell us everything!”

“Okay we went to my appointment and went back to my place for movie night like we always do. After dinner I went to wash my face and couldn’t reach something so she came to grab it and we just kinda looked at each other for a while until I asked her to kiss me. But then after we said nothing about it! Like literally nothing, just went about our night watching a movie and she left!” Tatum groaned.

“First of all, get it T! She’s fucking hot!” Lindsey laughed, ducking her head as Kristen threw a pillow her way. “What?! I have eyes!”

“You’re supposed to be helping me Linds, not talking about how hot she is!” Tatum laughed. “What do I do? Like do I bring it up today or just wait until she says something?”

“I think you bring it up but if you’re worried about it, I wouldn’t blame you for waiting for her lead. Just read the room and do what you think is best to be honest.” Lindsey stated, turning to Kristen to see what her answer was. “What do you think babe?”

“Honestly same. If you’re super worried about it, just wait to see what she says. I would be shocked if she didn’t say something about it today.” Kristen smiled, watching Tatum nod her head as she made her way out to the living room to grab her purse.

“Thanks y’all, I needed that advice. I texted her this afternoon about the game but haven’t heard anything so I’ve been spiraling now. Like I know she’s busy but the timing sucks!” Tatum exclaimed, checking the time on her watch as she slipped on her shoes. “Oh fuck I’m late! Okay love y’all!”

“Love you! Tell us how it goes!” Lindsey waved, hanging up the facetime.

~~~

Tatum made her way to the court following the game to congratulate Paige on yet another amazing game. Paige had put up 26 points and the team won by 15, the team on track to have a dominant season with their new additions. She watched as Paige greeted a few fans, signing autographs and taking some photos before noticing Tatum and making her way over to her.

“You had such a great game P, congrats!” Tatum smiled, leaning in for a hug.

“Thanks love.” Paige smiled, pulling back slightly to look at Tatum when she heard her name called from behind. Seeing the team’s social media manager waving her over, Paige nodded and turned back to Tatum to say a quick goodbye. “Hey I have to run real quick but my place tonight? I’ll pay if you wanna pick up food on the way home.”

“Yeah that sounds good but I can pay.” Tatum smiled, running through food options in her head. “Pluckers?”

Paige laughed, knowing the brunette had been talking about Pluckers for days, it being her most recent craving. “Yeah T, if that’s what you want, that’s what we can eat. Just get me my normal order and I should be home around the same time as you.”

Tatum nodded, leaning in for another hug from Paige and left to pick up their dinner. By the time she made it to the restaurant and got their food, she had received a text from Paige letting her know she had made it back to the apartment.

Ima take a shower ma but door is open when you get here

Making her way inside of Paige’s place, she took her shoes off and set the food down on the kitchen island, yelling to let Paige know it was just her. She started to unpack the food when she heard faint footsteps approaching her, seeing Paige make her way out with a big smile, sports bra and pajama pants slung low on her hips.

How does she look better every fucking time I see her?! Tatum thought to herself, staring at Paige as she made her way over to her.

“You see something you like?” Paige grinned, walking up to Tatum and placing her hand on her hip.

“Maybe.” Tatum whispered, glancing away from Paige’s abs to her face briefly before closing her eyes.

Paige leaned down, her mouth next to Tatum’s ear when she spoke again. “You can stare all you want as long as you keep those pretty eyes on me baby.”

Tatum let out a whimper at Paige’s words, her low voice traveling straight to her core. Neither spoke for a minute, the two breathing each other in before Tatum turned her head to the side and pulled Paige in for a searing kiss. Paige’s hand traveled up from the shorter girl's hip to grasp the back of her head, fingers intertwined with her natural curls as Tatum’s hands found Paige’s abdomen. Paige pressed Tatum further into the island, a low moan exiting her mouth as the cold granite met her back. Tatum pulled Paige closer, their bodies melding together as their tongues met. The passionate kiss continued for a few minutes, lungs beginning to burn at the lack of oxygen but both too needy for each other to pull away just yet. Finally, Paige pulled back, taking a much needed deep breath while she rested her forehead against Tatum’s.

“Fuck.” Tatum whispered, pulling back further to look into Paige’s eyes, smile wide on the blonde’s face.

“Yeah.” Paige hummed, wiping the corner of her mouth and laughing. “Don’t know why I waited so long to do that.”

“Fuck I don’t know either.” Tatum laughed, hands still on Paige’s stomach when she heard it growl. Laughing harder, Tatum pushed Paige back and turned around to continue unpacking the food. “Sounds like someone is hungry.”

Looking Tatum up and down, Paige grinned. “Yeah in more ways than one.” She stated below her breath, laughing as Tatum coughed at the statement.

“Shut up and eat your food.” Tatum smirked and handed her the takeout container, making her way to the couch so she could eat.

The remainder of the night was spent on Paige’s couch, Tatum tucked into her side as they watched the next episode of Grey’s Anatomy. It wasn’t long until Paige felt Tatum’s breath even out, knowing sleep was quickly going to overtake her when they finished dinner. She maneuvered them to give Tatum more space to spread out, a smile on her face as the brunette curled up further into her, lips now pressed against her neck. 

Paige knew she should wake her up, Tatum still in the jersey and skirt she wore to the game, but she didn’t have it in her to disturb her, liking the peace that reflected on her face at the moment. I’ll give her a few minutes and then wake her up, she thought, her hand finding Tatum’s back to rub lightly. They laid there together, Paige watching Tatum as she slept until she fell asleep herself, the two intertwined on her couch until the early morning.

~~~

Tatum woke up early the next morning, hair plastered against her forehead as she was cuddled into the side of Paige. Pushing herself to her elbows, she watched as Paige shifted at the loss of her warmth, her hand finding Tatum’s arm and pulling her back down.

“Where you going?” Paige whispered, eyes still closed.

“Paige you should really sleep in your bed, this cannot be comfortable.” Tatum answered, already seeing the pain that Paige would be in the next day with the position she was in, her neck strained to one side and body half off the couch.

“Fine,” Paige groaned, opening her eyes slowly and sitting the two of them up. “Stay with me?”

Tatum’s heart strained at the sound of Paige’s sleep laced voice, “I have nothing to wear and I have to get out of this.” Tatum whispered, laughing softly as she looked at her appearance. Her jersey was untucked and half hanging off her body, her skirt riding up her thighs as she slept. 

“You can wear something of mine T.” Paige hummed, hoping the brunette would give in and stay the night with her, something about the early hours making Paige feel needy for her company.

Thinking it over for a moment, Tatum decided to give in and allow herself the pleasure of staying the night, not wanting to give up the warmth of Paige’s body for her cold, empty bed. Nodding, Tatum stood up from the couch, fixing her skirt and reaching her hand out for Paige to join her. “Okay.” 

They made their way into Paige’s room, the blonde quickly finding a pair of shorts and a tank top for Tatum to change into. Throwing them her way, she watched as Tatum began to change, a laugh erupting from her as she turned around to show Paige her new outfit. The shorts slung low on her hips to accommodate for her growing bump and tank top being nothing more than a glorified sports bra with her larger chest.

“I knew my boobs grew but holy fuck this does not fit.” Tatum laughed as she climbed into the bed, blush creeping up her chest and she watched Paige eye her body. 

“I’m not complaining.” Paige smirked, dodging Tatum’s slap and pulling her further down the bed with her. “No need to hit me cause I’m telling the truth! Plus, you look really good in my clothes T.”

“Goodnight Paige.” Tatum hummed, ignoring her comments and closing her eyes.

“Night love.” Paige smiled as she drifted back to sleep, the weight of Tatum on her side a welcomed addition.

~~~

Should’ve let you talk me into coming with you :(

Paige smiled as she checked the message from Tatum, deciding to call her while she got ready for the game. The facetime connected quickly, Tatum setting her phone up as she moved around her kitchen making lunch.

“You missin’ me already?” Paige laughed, watching Tatum shake her head and smile.

“Shut up!” Tatum whined, “I’m not telling you anything if you’re gonna make fun of me.”

“Nah it’s cute T, I miss you too. We fly back Monday though so I’ll come over when I get home.” 

“Ugh fine.” Tatum pouted, tired of being in her empty apartment all day while Paige was gone. “Y’all have any plans after the game tonight? I know Azzi said she would be at the game.”

“They said something about going out but nothing is set yet.” Paige shrugged, she was excited to see her friend again and catch up, but after the kiss with Tatum, all she could think about was talking to her.

“That’ll be fun!” Tatum smiled, happy the two were getting together while Paige was in Connecticut. She knew how much the blonde was missing her college friends and loved that they were coming out to support her.

“Yeah I’m looking forward to it.” Paige smiled, turning as she heard a knock at her door. “Oh shit I gotta go. I’ll text you tonight T!”

“Okay! Kill it out there for me tonight.” Tatum hummed as the call disconnected.

~~~

“F-fuck,” Tatum moaned, chest heaving as she tossed in bed. Her hands moved, finding her breast as she tweaked her nipple, body lifting in pleasure. Eyes still closed, she continued to touch herself, mouth open as whines escaped. As she quickly neared her peak, she heard her phone buzz, ignoring it the first time when it happened again. “Ugh!” She groaned, turning over to find two messages from Paige, a photo of her and Azzi, smiles bright and eyes low, an effect of their night out, and a quick ‘you up?’

Tatum stared at the photo of the girls for a few minutes, looking at the way Paige’s veins flexed down her hand and arm as she held up a peace sign. Immediately thoughts filled her mind at those hands, how they could touch her, please her. She didn’t notice how long she had been staring at the photo until her phone began to ring, a call from Paige incoming.

“Am I not important enough now to get a text back?” Paige hummed, voice deep.

Blood rushed to Tatum’s face at the realization she was caught, her read receipts showing just how long she had been looking over the message. “Sorry.” She whispered, her voice failing her in that moment.

“Did I wake you ma?” Paige asked.

“Not really,” Tatum groaned, still feeling the heat in her core from earlier, unsatisfied. Wanting to change the subject from her so she didn’t embarrass herself with how needy she was feeling. “How was your night out with Azzi?”

“It was good, missed having you there with me though.” Paige smiled, diving into a story about the way people kept sending her drinks to celebrate her win.

Tatum tried listening to the story but Paige’s voice kept dipping down as she drawled on, hitting Tatum’s core with every word. She moved the phone, pressing up against her ear as she worked her hand over her body, trying to not make any noise as she listened to Paige in hopes of the blonde not knowing what she was doing. Moving her hand across her chest, she let out a quiet whine at the feeling.

“You good T?” Paige asked, ears perking at the whine and movement from the other end of the phone.

“Yeah, sorry!” Tatum answered, hand stilling on her chest and trying to keep her voice steady. “Sounds like you had a fun night.” 

“I did.” Paige hummed, the alcohol in her system enough to push her to try her luck with Tatum, need growing as she thought about Tatum’s actions. “Whachu doin’ baby?”

“Oh nothing, sorry I’m just-” Tatum took a deep breath, unsure of what to say, “tired.” 

“Nah baby I heard that whine.” 

Before Paige could speak up again Tatum spoke up. “Paige please,” Tatum whined, swallowing her pride and deciding to ask for help, voice dropping to a whisper as she admitted it. “I’m so fucking horny Paige.”

“Hey, I’m right here baby, let me help you. You touchin’ yourself already?”

“No.” Tatum’s voice squeaked, unsure what to do next, laughing as she realized the situation she was in. “Sorry I’ve never done this before.”

“That’s okay T, just listen to me and do what I say, okay?”

“Okay.” Tatum whispered, body straining to be touched again.

“Good, now I want you to take your clothes off. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” Tatum nodded, stripping down to nothing, whining as the air hit her nipples, the sensation running straight to her core. “They’re off. Can I touch myself, please?”

“Not just yet baby, I want you to touch your nipples first.” Paige hummed, her own hand mirror Tatum’s as she began touching herself. She quickly heard Tatum’s moans, wishing she could see Tatum’s face in the moment. “Fuck I wish I was there to help you baby.”

Tatum’s breath hitched, picturing Paige’s large hands across her chest, engulfing her growing breasts. “Paige please, I need you so bad. I’m so fucking wet.”

“Soon baby,” Paige whispered, a groan escaping at the desperation in her voice, “Now go ahead and touch that pretty pussy for me.”

Tatum moved her hand down her body, fingers dipping down to gather her juices, spreading the wetness across her clit and moaning at the sensation before she began circling the bud. “Fuck!”

“Good girl, just like that baby.” Paige moaned, moving to strip down so she could join Tatum. Tatum smirked at the movement, enjoying the sounds of Paige touching herself on the other end of the phone. Lust racing through her at the thought, she decided to dip her fingers down again, sliding a finger inside herself with a loud moan. “God I love those pretty moans, baby.”

“P-Paige! I need you so bad, baby.” Tatum whined, her fingers getting her close but not enough. Shifting, she placed her phone on speaker so she could use her other hand, finding her nipple.

“Add another finger baby.” Paige commanded, a moan erupting from Tatum at the change, “That feel good?”

“Yes! Fuck baby yes!” Tatum moaned, rapidly approaching the edge. This moan spurred Paige on, her own end coming fast. “Paige I’m so close!”

“Good girl,” Paige smiled as she listened to Tatum fall apart. “Cum for me baby, just like that. I’m right there with you.”

“Paige!” Tatum moaned loudly as she came, her eyes rolling and mouth dropping as she felt her cum leak out of her. The sound of her name pushed Paige over the edge, a long moan escaping her. The two continued to work themselves as they came down, breathing heavily together.

“Holy fuck Paige,” Tatum giggled, realizing what just happened. “That was-”

“So fucking hot,” Paige hummed, “Damn I’ll do this every night with you if you let me.”

“I was gonna say a lot but yeah, maybe.” Tatum blushed, suddenly getting very self-conscious about what they did.

Noticing how quiet Tatum went, Paige decided to facetime her, thinking being able to look her in the eyes would help with ensuring the brunette that this was okay. The facetime connected quickly, Tatum lifting the phone up, face illuminated by her tv.

“Needed to see that pretty face.” Paige drawled, mirroring the smile on Tatum’s face. 

“Shut up.” Tatum shifted at the praise, her arm draping over her chest to hide herself a bit as she turned to her side, the new angle giving a good look for Paige at her body. 

“Nah for real T, been missin’ you.” Paige paused, lifting her hair slightly off her sweaty neck before speaking again. “Didn’t expect our call to go that way tonight but I’m not mad at all.”

“Sorry,” Tatum whispered, “I’ve been so worked up since you left and guess I just… snapped tonight.” 

“Don’t be sorry at all, I mean it baby.” Paige insisted, smile on her face as she watched Tatum visibly relax. “Hey why don’t you get cleaned up and go to sleep baby? I kept you up late.”

“Okay.” Tatum nodded, “Thank you, Paige.”

“Always Tatum. I’m always down for round two when you are.” Paige smirked, laughing at the blush that rushed to Tatum’s face.

“Horny ass.” Tatum giggled, shaking her head. “Text me tomorrow?”

“When do I not? Night love.” 

“Goodnight P.”

~~~

Tatum laid by the pool, her body tingling with the hot summer sun as she tanned. Soft music played from her phone and she watched some kids play in the shallow end of the pool. Hearing her phone buzzing, she reached to find a text from Paige.

Wyd baby?

Ever since the call with Paige two nights prior, their messages had been turning more and more flirty, the two falling headfirst over the line between friends and something more and neither wanting to stop. Smiling at the use of the pet name, Tatum decided to respond with a selfie. Lifting her phone, she posed, her light blue bikini standing out against her tan skin and took two photos. One with her smile bright on her face, the other lower as she pulled the side of her bikini bottoms down a bit to show the tan lines.

Laying out by the pool :) you?

It didn’t take long before Paige read the message, a string of messages incoming soon after.

Holy fuck T

You look so fucking good

Can’t believe people are getting to see you like that and I’m not there

Swear I’m gonna lose my mind if I don’t get back soon

Tatum laughed, growing to learn that Paige was one to be dramatic when she wanted something. 

What is it you said the other night?

Ahh I think I remember

Soon baby :)

When are y’all coming back?

I think we should be landing like 10 tonight

Too late to see you before you go to sleep?

Tatum felt her heart flutter at the thought of seeing Paige after the last few days. She knew they had some stuff to talk about, their current relationship a major topic, but that was something they could discuss later, first they both were just looking forward to having the other in their arms.

Never too late for you

Call me when y’all land and I’ll be up

~~~

Tatum heard a knock at her front door and glanced at the clock, smirking when she saw the time, Paige’s 20 minute drive only taking her 10 minutes. Opening the door, she saw the blonde in a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie hanging from her shoulders, her black sports bra on display underneath. Stepping aside, Tatum opened the door further to let Paige in, feeling her strong hands grasp her arm as she tried to move, the taller girl pulling her into a tight hug.

“Hi,” Tatum whispered, leaning into Paige further, not knowing what else to say at that moment.

Paige pulled away from the hug, watching as Tatum dipped her head slightly, not yet looking the blonde in her eyes. Reaching up, she put her hand on Tatum’s chin, lifting her head and leaning down slightly so they were closer. “Nah don’t get quiet on me baby.”

Tatum felt the courage in that moment to surge forward, bringing Paige into a searing kiss. Pulling back, the two smiled at each other, before Tatum spoke up. “Sorry, I missed you.”

“I missed you too T.” Paige hummed, tongue peeking out the side of her mouth as she smirked. “You wanna sit down or just make out at the door all night?” 

“Shut up!” Tatum blushed, covering her face with her hands and groaning, turning away from Paige to make her way further into the apartment. Paige grabbed Tatum’s hand, the two sitting on the couch with Tatum pinned to the blonde’s side.

“It’s cute baby, don’t worry.” Paige smiled, enjoying the feeling of Tatum in her arms. “What’d you do all night?”

“Got some work done after the game and then my mom called.” Tatum rolled her eyes slightly, annoyance still filling her from the call. “Brandon has a tournament in Austin tomorrow so she was asking if I could go. She also asked how dating was going and if I was bringing anyone with me. I guess it’s better than asking if I was bringing Noah with me.”

���I’m sorry ‘bout that T,” Paige hummed, “Wish I could go with ya but I have some sponsor shit I gotta do after practice.”

“It’s okay Paige, I told her I would try to make it but I’m still not sure if I’m gonna go.” Tatum shrugged. “I love her but she has got to learn that I’m an adult and she can’t make every decision for me.”

“You’re strong as hell, you know that right?” Paige smiled, rubbing Tatum’s back. “Ain’t easy being the oldest, I get that.”

“Thanks P.” Tatum smiled.

The two sat in silence for a while, enjoying each other’s company after Paige had been gone for a week. Remembering an earlier conversation, Tatum shifted in Paige’s lap, gasping and slapping her shoulder. “OMG I forgot to tell you! Mrs. Black had her grandson out at the pool today when I was tanning and she came to see me to say hi. I had told her about the pregnancy and all and as she was leaving she goes ‘You know sweetheart, I like you and Paige together. Y’all are such a cute couple.’ I had to tell her, you know, thanks but we aren’t together and this sweet old lady goes ‘Weird. I could’ve sworn I heard y’all the other night.’ WHAT?!”

Paige bursted into laughter at the realization that the older woman must’ve heard Tatum when they were on the phone a few nights prior, her moans seeping through the walls into Mrs. Black’s apartment. “I knew our walls were thin but damn you mean she heard you the whole night?”

Tatum nodded, shock and shame painting her face as she thought about the situation again. “Yes! That’s exactly what she meant! I didn’t even know how to react cause what do you even say to that?! And then she just giggled a bit and told me she would be seeing us around and to not worry about the noise. She said she understood the need! I have never been so embarrassed before Paige!”

“Yo that’s crazy that she said that to you.” Paige laughed, thrown by the straightforwardness of their neighbor. “I mean my place isn't directly next to hers...”

Tatum laughed, slapping Paige’s shoulder at the comment. “Paige! This is serious! She damn near heard me yell your name and you’re talking about ‘let’s go to my place instead!’”

“Can you blame me? Been thinking about you for days baby.” Paige groaned, reaching her hand out to bring Tatum closer, the brunette lifting herself up and straddling her lap. “See that’s more like it.”

Tatum ducked her head into Paige’s neck, the blonde moving her hands to cup Tatum’s ass, rocking her hips against her lap causing a quiet moan to escape Tatum’s lips. Tatum attached her lips under Paige’s neck, kissing and sucking lightly, coaxing a low groan from Paige, smile forming on Tatum’s face as she heard the effect she was having on her.

“Baby if you don’t stop Mrs. Black is gonna hear me fuck you in a minute.” Paige groaned, hand moving up to Tatum’s hair and pulling lightly, eyes rolling at the moan that escaped Tatum at the action. “You tryna go to my place T?”

“Just fuck me here, please. Can’t wait.” Tatum whined, the thought of waiting any longer killing her. 

“Needy girl,” Paige smirked, grinding her hips up into Tatum. “Go ‘head and take those clothes off baby.”

Tatum quickly climbed off Paige’s lap, her tank top and shorts coming off leaving her in just a pink thong. She looked down at Paige as she waited for further instructions, the blonde unable to speak as she looked her up and down repeatedly. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Paige whispered under her breath.

Tatum shifted under her gaze, taking a slow step forward until she was standing between Paige’s legs, watching as Paige flexed her hands on her knees before they were rising up and yanking Tatum back down.

“Paige,” Tatum moaned at the feeling of clothed core meeting the rough texture of Paige’s sweatpants. She moved her hips tentatively, pressing her clit down harder on her lap.

“Good fucking girl,” Paige growled, leaning her head back slightly so she could get a better view of the girl in front of her. Tatum preened at the words, eyes rolling back as she continued to move, soaking through her thong and the wet spot on Paige’s sweatpants growing with each movement. “You’re so fucking wet baby.”

Tatum’s head dipped down, her forehead meeting Paige’s shoulder as she continued working herself, the pressure not enough to get her to her much needed edge. “Please,” she whined, “Please finger me baby.”

“You wanna ride my fingers T?” Paige grinned, shifting them slightly so she could slip her hand between the brunette’s thighs.

Tatum nodded sharpy at this, feeling a rush of liquid leak out of her at the thought. “Yes baby, so fucking bad.” 

It didn’t take long until Tatum felt Paige pull her thong to the side and press her thumb against her clit, core clenching at the pressure and back arching. She stared at the veins in the blonde’s arm as she moved slightly, gasping loudly as she felt a long finger enter her slowly. 

“So fucking tight baby.” Paige groaned, thrusting her finger up and watching as Tatum’s eyes rolled back with the movement. 

Tatum began grinding her hips down on Paige’s hand, clit rubbing against her palm and finger hitting that spot that made her see stars. Paige could tell that Tatum needed more, inserting another finger as she attached her mouth to her nipple, Tatum tightening around Paige’s fingers with the change.

“Fuck!” Tatum shouted, lifting up slightly and slamming herself back down into Paige’s hand, rapidly approaching her edge. She continued to bounce in Paige’s lap, head thrown back and mouth hanging open as moans escaped her.

“Just like that baby, cum for me.” Paige hummed, moving to Tatum’s other nipple, her free hand giving her a quick spank and moving her to her waist to help with her movements.

It didn’t take long for Tatum to break, cum seeping out of her as Paige continued to work her fingers inside, holding Tatum against her hand so she couldn’t move away. Slowly, Paige pulled her hand out from her thighs, fingers dripping as she raised her hand to her mouth and sucked, groaning at the taste. “Taste so fucking good baby,” Paige moaned, removing her fingers and bringing them to Tatum’s face. “Open.” 

Tatum’s mouth dropped at the order, tongue flattening as she waited for Paige’s fingers. The blonde placed her fingers on her tongue, slowly pushing them further into her mouth as Tatum sucked, not stopping until they were completely clean. Opening her mouth with a pop, Tatum sat back a bit, a string of spit connecting her lips and Paige’s hand as she removed her fingers and moved it to Tatum’s cheek.

Pulling Tatum down, the two connected for a kiss, tongue’s connecting as Tatum gripped Paige’s hair, yanking tightly. “Fuck baby,” Paige moaned, wetness flooding her boxers at the sting and hips raising slightly, chasing her touch.

Tatum pulled back and got off of her lap, sinking to her knees in front of Paige and hooking her fingers in the waistband of the blonde’s sweatpants, looking up to find Paige staring at her intently, bottom lip between her lips and nodding sharply. At the nod, Tatum yanked Paige’s sweatpants and boxers down quickly, a loud whimper escaping at the sight of her glistening cunt. 

“Need to see you,” Tatum whispered, hands pushing Paige’s sweatshirt up slightly, the blonde quickly stripping herself of her jacket and sports bra. 

With the blonde now bare in front of her, Tatum pulled her to the edge of the couch and spread her legs further, dropping faint kisses along her strong thighs. Enjoying the way Paige strained for her touch, Tatum took her time rubbing her hands across her body, avoiding the area she craved most.

“Please T,” Paige groaned, threading her fingers through Tatum’s hair, the girls making eye contact. “Need you so bad baby, please.”

Tatum wasted no time after this, maintaining eye contact as she connected her lips to Paige’s clit, sucking sharply, watching as Paige’s eyes rolled back and hips lifted. “Fuck!” Paige moaned, fingers tightening in Tatum’s hair. 

Tatum continued working her tongue over Paige’s clit, one hand reaching up to play with her nipple while the other gripped her thigh tightly. Pulling back with a smirk on her face, Tatum watched as Paige groaned, pleas on her lips as she begged for more. Sitting back on her heels, Tatum brought her fingers to Paige’s core, inserting two easily and curling them up. She watched as Paige fell apart on her fingers, loving the way her body clenched with each movement, mouth hanging open. 

“Look so fucking good like this baby.” Tatum hummed, leaning back in to connect her mouth to Paige’s clit, moaning against her core at the feeling of her fingers getting sucked in even deeper.

“So fucking close baby, please.” Paige moaned, grinding her hips against the brunette’s face as she chased her end. “Gonna cum, fuck!”

Tatum continued to work the blonde through her orgasm, groaning as the taste of her cum filled her mouth, lapping up every drop that leaked from her core. It wasn’t until Paige pushed her head away that she stopped, sitting back on her heels with a grin on her face at the fucked out look she was met with. Standing back up, Tatum straddled Paige’s lap, collapsing against her chest as they both caught their breath.

“Holy fuck T.” Paige laughed, pulling Tatum in for a kiss, groaning at the taste of herself on the brunette’s tongue.

“Yeah,” Tatum giggled against her mouth, pulling back to look down at Paige. “Stay with me?”

“Of course.” Paige whispered, shifting to stand and lifting Tatum with her as if she weighed nothing, making their way into Tatum’s room.

Once they got to Tatum’s bathroom, Paige placed her down, the shorter girl turning on the shower as Paige grabbed towels for them. After turning on some soft music, the two got in the shower, enjoying the comfort and proximity of each other under the warm water. Quickly, they both finished up, Tatum stepping out first and drying off while Paige rinsed her hair out. 

“What time you gotta leave tomorrow?” Tatum asked, making her way into her closet to grab a pair of boxers and pajamas to sleep in.

“Gotta be at the gym by 7 so I’ma try to leave by 6:30.” Paige hummed, stepping out and drying off. 

“Wake me up with you? Wanna work out before the game to keep my mind off whatever dumb shit my moms gonna say while we are there.” 

“Of course T.” Paige smiled, setting her alarm and joining the shorter girl in bed and pulling her into her side. “Tomorrows gonna be fine with your mom, I promise.”

“Thank you,” Tatum whispered, looking up at Paige with a smile on her face before giving the blonde a quick kiss, returning her head to her chest to sleep. “For everything P, for your help with the babies and Noah, for tonight, just for it all.”

“Always baby, I’ma be by your side as long as you let me.” Paige smiled, rubbing Tatum’s back as she listened to the brunette’s breathing even out. “Night love.”

~~~

Tatum wiped the tears from her eyes as she watched her brother get wheeled back into surgery, the family's afternoon taking a drastic turn after an accidental hit left her brother unable to stand. After a quick x-ray at the hospital, it was confirmed that he broke his ankle and would need surgery to place a plate and screws. Despite the constant reassurance from doctors that it wasn’t a horrible break and that recovery shouldn’t be too gruesome of a process, Tatum still felt her heart break into a million pieces as she watched Brandon get wheeled away.

“Surgery should take an hour or so but we will keep y’all updated along the way.” The nurse smiled, sensing the fear rolling off of Tatum. 

“Thank you so much,” Tatum hummed, smile not quite reaching her eyes. Brandon had always felt like her first born and seeing the pain in his eyes hit her more than she expected. His six-foot frame looking like a toddler to her as they laid him on the hospital bed.

She made her way to her family in the waiting room, sitting next to Naomi and pulling the girl into her side, planting a soft kiss against the crown of her head. The time ticked by slowly, no one speaking more than a few words as they all took in the aftermath of what happened. Tatum felt her phone buzz but didn’t have the energy to answer it, a mixture of family and friends reaching out once they heard of the injury and Paige who was oblivious to it all.

Tatum felt like the world was spinning as she watched the hours pass, one hour turning into three as they waited. Way too slow for her own liking, their nurse emerged into the waiting room, a large smile on her face as she approached the family.

“Surgery went amazing and Brandon is awake in recovery now asking for y’all.” 

The weight on their hearts lifted as they heard the good news, happy tears escaping Tatum’s eyes and her mom pulling her in for a tight hug. “Oh thank God." Her mom hummed, eager to see her baby boy. 

They made their way into the recovery room, the sterile smell burning Tatum’s nostrils as she watched him shift slightly in the bed, reaching out to hug their parents. Arriving at his side, Tatum pulled him in for a tight hug, the boy groaning at her strength.

“Hey Bean,” Tatum whispered, a quiet laugh escaping both of them at the use of his childhood nickname. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m good.” Brandon nodded, “For real T I’m okay, you can let go of me.”

“Don’t scare us like that again!” Tatum laughed, slapping his shoulder as she pulled a chair up to his side. 

“Not like I tried to.” Brandon laughed, “Definitely didn’t picture my summer spent in a cast.”

The family spent the remainder of the night in the room with Brandon, Pizza they picked up being passed around as they shared stories from their recent trip to Mexico with Tatum, Brandon’s girlfriend Samantha on facetime with them.

“Yeah he ‘forgot’ sunscreen the first day and his ass got BURNT. Your mom yelled at him for like 30 minutes.” Samantha laughed.

“I did forget!” Brandon interjected, trying to defend himself. “And I didn’t burn that bad, not as bad as your dad.”

Tatum laughed as the two continued to talk, happy to see him in such a good mood. Feeling her phone buzz for what felt like the millionth time that afternoon, she decided she would finally get to answering people. Scrolling through pages of texts and missed calls, she found the name she was hoping to see, Paige's.

How's the game going?

Hope you’re having fun T

Starting to get a lil worried, you good?

Call me when you can, miss you

Tatum’s heart clenched as she read the messages, quickly excusing herself to the hallway and dialed the blonde, call connecting after only two rings.

“Startin’ to think you’re avoiding me.” Paige hummed, “After last night and all.”

“Never!” Tatum squeaked, surprise filling her at Paige’s words, voice dropping to a whisper as she spoke again. “I would never avoid you P.”

“Good to hear.” Paige smiled, “Wachu been up to today then, ma? How was the tourney?”

“Uhh not the best for us. Brandon broke his ankle in the first game so we have been at the hospital all afternoon.” 

“Fuck T, I’m sorry to hear that. How is he doing now?” Paige asked, voiced laced with concern.

“Better, had surgery to place a plate and screws a few hours ago so he’s feeling a lot better now.” Tatum sighed, smile on her face as she watched her brother and sister fight over the last piece of pizza. “Got some pizza for dinner and have been talking on the phone with his girlfriend for a while, his idea of a perfect night I guess.” 

“How’re you feelin’ T? I know how much you care about them.” 

“Not as good.” Tatum whispered, breathing deep to try and avoid the tears welling in her eyes. “Seeing him in pain hurt me in a way I never would’ve imagined. Trying to be strong for them but fuck man this sucks.”

Paige listened as Tatum began crying, wishing they weren’t hours away and she could be there to support her through this. “Hey, listen to me baby. I know it hurts seeing him in pain, but think about him right now. He is okay now, right?”

“Yeah.” Tatum whispered, tears heavy on her voice.

“He is going to recover from this, I promise. Just stay in the moment and be there for him, that is what he is going to need the most. I know I did.”

“Thank you,” Tatum hummed, the blonde’s words lifting a bit of weight off her chest. “We should be able to bring him home tomorrow so I think I’m gonna help them get him home and maybe stay a few days.”

“Let me know if you need anything T. I’ma miss you.” Paige smiled, enjoying the giggle that escaped the brunette.

“I’ll miss you too. I’ll keep you updated on how it all goes.” Tatum stated, seeing her mom wave her back to the room. “Hey I’ll text you later tonight, my moms calling me over.”

“Aight sounds good, bye love.”

~~~

The next few days were smooth for the Smith family, the drive back to Dallas easy and everything falling into place once they were back home. With a constant flow of extended family coming to the house to see Brandon, Tatum split her time between hosting and making sure her mom wasn’t going to lose her mind. 

“Y’all have any plans tomorrow?” Mr. Smith asked as they sat down for dinner.

“Have cheer practice in the morning but then nothing after, everyone is busy.” Naomi groaned, rolling her eyes for emphasis. 

“Poor baby,” Tatum frowned, lightly tapping her shoulder with a laugh. “I have to swing by my apartment to grab my laptop for work, got some updates to make for a client but then I’ll come back for another day or so, that okay?”

“Of course sweetheart.” Her dad smiled, “I enjoy having all my kids under one roof for a few days.”

“Yo, can I come with you? Gonna lose my mind if I gotta sit on that couch for another full day.” Brandon asked, ready to beg them to let him leave the house.

“It’s okay with me. Mom? Dad?” Tatum asked, looking around the table for their approval. She watched as they made eye contact, silent conversation ensuing between the two at the question. After a minute or so, her mom nodded, turning back to the kids with their answer.

“Yeah, that’s okay. But make sure he stays careful, please.” 

“Can I go too?” Naomi asked.

“Yeah! We can leave from cheer and head down.” Tatum smiled, excited to have a day alone with her siblings.

~~~

You ever coming back to see me?

Tatum smiled as she read the latest text from Paige, the blonde really playing up the dramatics as they entered another day apart.

Bringing Naomi and Brandon to the apartment to grab my laptop later today if you’re free?

Tatum saw the message bubbles pop up almost immediately, her phone quickly buzzing with the responses.

Always free for you T

Text me when y’all get here and I can come over 

Tatum loved the message and put her phone away as she continued getting ready. She was so thankful for the blonde for being in her life and was excited to introduce her to her family, even if their relationship was very undefined at the moment. Since meeting Paige and breaking things off with Noah, Tatum hadn’t thought about trying the dating field again, her connection with Paige proving to be something she wanted to explore further but she didn’t know how to navigate that. 

The reality of seeing Paige after their last night together was exciting and she wanted to make sure she looked good. You’re trying too hard, it’s not like she’s gonna fuck you with your siblings there, she thought to herself, mentally kicking herself for getting so turned on at the idea. Just focus on today T and y’all can talk about whatever this is after.

Once Naomi was home from cheer and ready to go, the three siblings made their way to Tatum’s car, Brandon leaning into his injury so he could ride shotgun. Tatum just laughed at the two while they fought, her brother ultimately winning the argument and sliding into his seat for the trip.

“Y’all finally ready to go?” Tatum smirked, watching as Naomi slid into the backseat with a huff. “Hey you can sit up here on the way back, only fair.”

“Whatever,” Brandon groaned but decided not to fight it. “Hey are we gonna meet your lil’ girlfriend today?”

“Wait who?!” Naomi exclaimed, leaning forward a bit. 

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Tatum laughed, flicking Brandon’s forehead as she backed out of their driveway. “But yeah she might pop in while we are there.”

The younger two made eye contact, smiles forming at the blush that painted her cheeks as she spoke about her.

“Definitely more than a friend if your outfit says anything.” Naomi said under her breath, laughing with Brandon. 

“Wait what’s wrong with my outfit?” Tatum asked as she looked down inspecting herself. She chose a light green strappy sundress with a small bow at the top, the tension making her boobs stand out more and the material hugging her bump perfectly while not making it the star of the outfit like some of her other dresses did. “Is it too much boob?”

“No you look good, promise. Just cute to see you so dressed up for someone.” Naomi smiled, hoping she didn’t make her sister second guess herself. 

Tatum smiled at this, nodding at the thought. “Yeah I guess it’s been a while, huh?”

~~~

They made their way upstairs to Tatum’s place quickly once arriving, the brunette making sure every few seconds that Brandon was still okay, her maternal instincts on alert as he moved through the building. As they got into her apartment, she made sure they were settled before sending a quick text to Paige to let her know they made it. It wasn’t long before they heard a knock at the door, Tatum opening it to see Paige smiling down at her.

“You sit by your phone just waiting for my text?” Tatum smirked, pulling the blonde into a hug.

“Nah you’re wrong for that ma.” Paige hummed into her hair, the shorter girl laughing into her chest. Pulling back just slightly, Paige looked her up and down repeatedly, her eyes drawn to the cleavage. “You tryna kill me?”

“Shut up.” Tatum whispered, dipping her head at the comment to hide the blush heating her cheeks.

It wasn’t until they heard a quiet cough from Brandon that they remembered they weren't alone, the pair pulling apart quickly as the younger two concealed their laughs. “You gonna introduce us or…?” Brandon asked, enjoying the awkward look on his sister’s face. 

“Shut up!” Naomi whispered, hitting his shoulder and turning to greet Paige. “Hi, I’m Naomi and that asshole is Brandon. Ignore him.”

“Nah my bad. It’s nice to meet y’all, Tatum has talked a lot about y’all.” Paige smiled, making her way to the couch. “I heard about your ankle, sorry you had to go through that.”

Tatum held back a laugh as she watched her brother try and play it cool as he said hello, clearly a little starstruck in her presence. She sat down by Naomi on the couch in her normal spot, patting the seat next to her for Paige to join in. The blonde quickly joined her and pulled Tatum’s legs across her lap, rubbing her feet lightly. 

“Thanks, sucks to miss a season but I just hope I can come back better next year.” Brandon nodded, the two connecting through their shared experiences. 

“Well if you ever need anyone to train with, hit me up.” Paige hummed, enjoying the smile on Tatum’s face as she watched them. 

Tatum watched as they got to know one another, happy that her siblings were bonding well with Paige, the three making plans to go to a Wings game once Brandon was feeling up to it while they ate lunch. After a while, Brandon switched topics to video games, joy flashing across Paige’s face as they spoke about Fortnite.

“You tryna play a game? We can go to my place if you want to.” Paige asked as she made her way into the kitchen to clean up.

“Hell yeah! Tatum, we got time?” 

“Yeah for sure.” Tatum nodded, getting up from the couch to join Paige. “I can clean up while y’all go. I’ll join after.”

“You sure?” Paige whispered, pulling Tatum closer and resting her hand on the brunette’s hips. Tatum nodded quickly, turning around to check if her siblings were watching before pulling Paige in for a quick kiss.

As if they could sense that Tatum wanted alone time, the siblings began a conversation about their fourth of July plans, the animated conversation leaving them oblivious to the girls behind them. Noticing this, Paige pulled Tatum in closer, dipping down to kiss her again, this time deeper, moving to her neck to cover her in light kisses.

“You got me testing my patience in that dress.” Paige whispered in her ear, finger dropping slightly to tug softly at the neckline of her dress. “Gotta let me fuck you right once you get back.” 

Tatum gasped as quiet as she could, panties flooding at the comment, pulling back to glare at her. “I hate you, you know that?”

“I bet baby.” Paige laughed softly, loving the effect she was having on the shorter girl. “Don’t think I can stop kissin’ you if you don’t walk away.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Tatum whispered, eyes wide as she stared up at her. The two only parted once they heard Brandon and Naomi start to stand up, Paige and the siblings making their way out of Tatum’s apartment and to her own.

Pulling out her phone, Tatum decided to send a quick text to Paige before she joined them at her apartment.

You better hold true to your word when I get back on Tuesday

The responses came immediately from Paige, the blonde clearly just as worked up as she was.

Bet

Come straight to mine once you get here?

Can’t have Mrs. Black hearing you scream my name all day

~~~

“Oh honey, I ran into Ms. Jessica today at the gym and she asked if we wanted to go over for the fourth. Do you want to join us?” Tatum’s mom asked as she put the food away from dinner while Tatum began washing dishes.

There it was, her mom’s chance to talk about Noah and her thoughts on their relationship. Sighing, Tatum shook her head, wanting to keep the conversation short and sweet. “No, I have plans as of now to get together with the girls but y’all have fun.” Putting on a sickly sweet smile, Tatum turned to her mom, hoping that she would take the hint to drop the conversation. Unfortunately for her, that was not the case.

“That’s unfortunately sweetie, I know they were hoping to see you. She asked how you were doing and seemed surprised to hear about the pregnancy. Have you not updated Noah on anything?”

Why am I always the one in the wrong? Tatum thought, thinking about how she wanted to reply. “He said he wanted nothing to do with me or the babies so I am just following his lead mom. Not surprised he didn’t say anything to his family. If they don’t know, they can’t have an opinion on his choices.”

“But Tatum, they deserve a chance to get to know the babies, don't you think?”

“I’m not getting into the middle of his family’s choices or dynamic mom. If they want to reach out, they can, but it isn’t my problem right now. Now, I just want to have two healthy babies and be able to raise them the way I see fit, not letting others decide all of my choices.”

“Why don’t y’all try to get back together baby? I’m sure he didn’t mean it when he said he didn’t want anything to do with y’all.” Tatum’s mom smiled, reaching out to bring the brunette into a hug in hopes that she would listen to her.

Closing her eyes, Tatum allowed herself to be pulled in. She didn’t want to tell her parents how he treated her, that he controlled almost every decision she made, because once she vocalized that then it was true. Part of her couldn’t believe what she put up with for so long, but that’s the scary thing about controlling relationships, you don’t realize it until you’re out of it. Wiping away the stray tear that slid down her cheek, Tatum pulled back with a quiet smile.

“It isn’t that easy mom. I can’t allow a man to treat me like that and expect me to put up with it. What kind of image does that portray to the babies? That it is okay to treat others or be treated like you’re worthless? Absolutely not.” Tatum sighed, hoping her mom would take the hint and stop the conversation. “Plus, he’s already with another girl, Kelly. Moved in like a week after I kicked him out so I’m sure that they have been together much longer than that.”

“I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself baby,” Her mom nods, hand finding Tatum’s bump and rubbing lightly. “I just don’t want you to be alone in this. Raising a baby is hard, but two? Alone? You need someone by your side to help you.”

Tatum’s mind wandered to Paige as her mom spoke, allowing herself to see the blonde in her day to day life after birth. They weren’t at the place where she would be raising the babies with Tatum, but the brunette definitely hoped she one day would be. “I’ll be okay mom, I promise. If I need help, I will reach out. You just gotta trust me.”

Luckily for her, her mom decided her answer was good enough for the moment and decided to drop it. Leaning in to kiss Tatum’s head, she whispered a quick okay and pulled back. “I just want the best for you baby, but okay, I will trust you. I love you.”

“I love you too mom.” Tatum whispered, retreating to the stairs and up to the guest room for her last night before heading to her own place. “Night mom.”

“Night baby.”

~~~

Tatum quickly made her way back to Arlington the next afternoon, her need to be in Paige’s arms acting as a weight against her foot as she stepped harder on the gas, speeding down the highway. As she pulled into the garage, she saw Paige’s car parked in her typical spot, smiling growing on her face at the reality of seeing the blonde. She swiftly dropped her bags in her apartment once she made it upstairs and knocked on Paige’s door, bouncing a bit on her toes as she waited.

Opening the door, Paige smiled brightly as the brunette launched herself into her strong arms, laughing at the power the short girl pushed upon her and brought her in for a tight hug. 

“You don’t know how much I needed to see you.” Tatum whispered, smiling widely as she pulled back to see Paige’s face. “Literally saw you two days ago and it feels like it has been a year.”

“I missed you too T, so fucking much.”

Tatum pulled Paige into a strong kiss, the pair wrapped up in each other as they made their way to the couch. Paige pulled Tatum into her lap as she sat down, wrapping her arm around her waist and rubbing lightly along her stomach and thighs. “How was your last night with your parents?”

“Not the best but I guess not the worst.” Tatum sighed, leaning her head on Paige’s shoulder and closing her eyes for a breath. “Mom ran into Noah’s aunt at the gym and brought up the babies which apparently, they had no idea about, not that I’m surprised he didn’t say anything. But it ended with her asking why I don’t try getting with him again, so that’s fun.”

“What did she say when you answered her?” Paige asked. She wasn’t sure why she was afraid of the answer but she was. What if she leaves and goes back to him because of the pregnancy or her parents? She wouldn't, right? 

“Surprisingly, she took it okay. I can tell she wanted to say more but I think how much I stood up for myself and the babies shocked her a bit. I told her that I refuse to let my kids see me weak and getting back with him is exactly that. There is a lot I went through that I never let them see so I know she isn’t saying it from a bad place, but I just hope she learns to trust me to make my own decisions with my family. She boiled it down to ‘wanting the best for me’ so I hope I can show her that my choices ARE what are best for me.” 

“She’ll come around T, it may just take her a while to acknowledge that you are an adult and get to make your own choices.” Paige nodded, not wanting to overstep and give an unwanted opinion on the matter but also wanting to let the girl know that she can open up more about their relationship if she wants to. “You know you can always talk to me about anything, right?”

“Yeah,” Tatum whispered, shifting in her lap to somehow get closer to the blonde. “I hate how much I let him hurt me. I feel like an idiot when I look back on the relationship ‘cause what was I thinking?”

“You were in love T.” Paige whispered, kissing her forehead before speaking again. “But you stood up for yourself when it mattered and that is what is most important. You are so fucking strong for what you did baby.”

Tatum felt her eyes well up as she looked at the athlete, the pair in a comfortable silence as they clung to one another. Tatum was so grateful to have her, truly believing that without her by her side, she likely would’ve found a way to appease him and gotten back together for the sake of the babies. “Can we stay like this all day? I don’t wanna leave your arms.”

“Of course baby,” Paige laughed. I’ll hold you in my arms forever if you let me.

“Thank you. I’m so lucky to have met you Paige. I don’t know where I would be without you.” Tatum whispered, bringing Paige into a soft kiss before laying her head back on her chest, content to spend the day wrapped up together. 

[ask-postcrash-curly]

(she’s wearing a little skull patterned pajama onesie with the same damn boots and cardigan. shockingly, it’s all black.)

this is so pleasant! the lights are nice and dimmed, big swans is here, and no one is violating boundaries you aren’t able to articulate! it’s so cozy!

oh my god, i remembered something from my youth that i thought would make a good story. any interest? ok, ok. so, im from Chartres. it’s a little town in Loire Valley. and the big main thing in Chartres is the cathedral, which might be one of the most gorgeous buildings on earth. so, this one time when i was like fourteen years old, i was wandering around, which i wasn’t supposed to, i was supposed to be at home doing household duties.

there’s this one specific tree outside the cathedral- or it was, it’s not there anymore- that’s in front of the cathedral, and i, being a 14 year old imbecile peasant girl, liked to sit under it and people watch the church goers.

so there was this boy Gautier, he was 18 ish. he was also my betrothed. he was a peasant too but his father was richer than us and he was a boy, so he was far above me in terms of social class, and he LOVED it. he would find me whenever he could and just beat the shit out of me. he’d… do other things too, but really he just liked to make me miserable, he got off on it, but he framed it all as a good friendly relationship. so this one time when i was sitting under the tree, he got behind me and kicked me hard so i fell over, said some bullshit i don’t really remember and carved my name into the tree, just completely defaced it. and mind you, this was 1335. vandalism- especially right in front of the church, ESPECIALLY by what they believe to be a peasant girl, was not appreciated.

so right after he did that, i fled. what was i supposed to do? when they found it and then found me, they could’ve put me to death! they probably would’ve if Gautier didn’t then show up and beg for them to show me mercy. they sent me home with him, and i couldn’t get away because i was quite literally his property. it’s ok though, because when we got there, i immediately pounced on him and i ended up knocking like 4 teeth out and then i ran and ran and ran back home. that was pretty cool. or, it was until he found me the next day at my parents home. that was less cool- but in the moment!! ooh my knuckles hurt so bad. i wish my knuckles could still hurt like that.

there was so much weird shit like that i can tell you about if you want. maybe it’s depressing, i have no idea.

i wanna see how swansea would treat Gautier. he definitely could’ve humbled him.

🖤

Hey! Ah— Missed the time there by a little. But I agree with you. This is much more bearable, yeah?

Sure, okay. Always interested.

I disagree. Wandering around is exactly what fourteen-year-olds are supposed to do.

From what you've said, I highly doubt you were an imbecile.

Mm, yeah, you mentioned him. Sorry, what? You didn't mention that— What the fuck?? And you were meant to marry him? Bloody hell. That's— Fuck. That's awful. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. That fucking bastard.

His property... Ugh. Good on you for that. Four teeth's impressive. Hey, my knuckles never hurt anymore either! ...Is it okay to be joking around here?

It's a bit... not depressing, but... sad. But look, I'd much rather you tell me about it than you keep it all to yourself, yeah? You're my friend. So please do tell me any other, uh, "weird shit" that comes to mind.

I'll tell you this much: Swansea's not fond of people who think they're better than everyone else.

[agentnatesewell]

I am completing this assignment from @serially-wayhaven to show off wedding night attire! (please see the thread for other friends’ beautiful picks!)

For Nate and Suri, there are many outfits for the many nights and ways they’ll be celebrating their marriage (and because I couldn’t pick just one outfit). Putting behind the cut, for reasons you’ll understand

For when Nate and Suri elope, it’ll be more of a spontaneous thing with a romantic undertone because she just cannot stand the idea of spending another minute not being his wife. Nate, of course, feels the same and of course, will do what it is she (they!) want. In the interest of lack of time, Suri will pick up something she already has (she loves pretty clothes and lingerie, but opts for this dress) - a dress that wraps like a robe, and can stand in for bridal lingerie

After the rush has died down, and the love still remains, wanting to share their new life together with others, there will be a wedding. Also, Nate wants a traditional wedding, and they will have that!! That man will have his wedding in that chapel with the stained glass

For the wedding night, there is more time to plan, and because Suri wants to extend the fun - there are multiple wedding night outfits for multiple evenings on their honeymoon

This first selection, which is so pretty! Something teasing, a mix of very sweet and nice and a little naughty. The veil stays on. The garter, optional if it stays on. The heels, again optional if they stay on.

The second is far more subdued, but lovely all the same. Suri wants something that’s special, unique, something to celebrate their union, which is now a new, uncharted chapter in their lives

Next, far more flirtatious,m. A different take on walking into the room with just a long, looped strand of pearls on, plus frilly bottoms

There is a lot more, of course, but I had to stop myself at … four! They could keep going on, but the Sewells will have to get back to work eventually. Because Nate does love a corset, and Suri does love a pretty lingerie set - a grand finale of the first of many sexy, sex-y nights!

As for Nate! He will have a the silkiest robe, the silkiest pajamas (buttoned at first!), and the silkiest boxers of his life. She’ll have as much fun undressing him as he will her (maybe, actually yes)

[writhe]

ok like the analysis is really good / important but this video like has to be fetish content right