#opened my phone and responded 'hey!' to the text my mom sent me an hour ago and then got up and didnt answer her following text for an hour

[nats--sw]

Gold chain (pt2) | Leah Williamson

Leah, among other things, can be a bit of a distraction for your game… but just a bit. warnings: none, just fluff and slow burn note: a short one for today,, thanks for all the love in the pt1 :( pt1 - pt3 my masterlist

It had been three days since Leah had received the Instagram notification. Every morning, she took a moment to think about whether it was a good idea to text you or not. So far, you had liked her latest post, and Leah was hoping to return the gesture, but unfortunately for her you hadn't posted anything new since your picture holding the Roland Garros trophy. Not even a story she could react to. Nothing. 

“So... how's it going?” her mother asked that afternoon. Leah had gone to visit her, finding herself with more free time now that the season had ended, not much to do aside from the occasional interview and events, nothing too physically demanding for her.

“Well, I have an interview with the BBC in a couple of days, so that's keeping me busy” Leah said, pacing around the dining room, her eyes wandering over the photographs on one of her mother’s many shelves.

“I'm not talking about work. I'm talking about your girl!” Amanda shouted from the kitchen.

"Stop calling her that. I still can't believe you embarrassed me in front of her” Leah retorted. Just then, something over the fireplace caught her attention. 

Right in the center, where her picture holding up the Euro usually was, now stood a small transparent box. Inside was your autographed tennis ball. Leah picked up the box and couldn't help but smile at the sight of your signature, along with a smiley face.

“Hey, leave that there” her mother scolded as she entered the dining room with the two plates of food for dinner. 

“This should be mine, I'm her fan,” Leah said, fiddling with the box in her hand.

“Did you help Y/N win her trophy?” her mother retorted.

“Well, I got you there in the first place” Leah defended herself, placing the box back in its spot.

"Too bad that gift was given to me. If you want a ball, ask her for it." Amanda teased.

“You're my mother. You should be nicer to me.” Leah countered, taking a seat. 

"Yes, I am your mother, but I didn't raise a coward," Amanda said with a teasing smile. “Now eat”

Leah bit her lip nervously as she stared at her phone screen. The chat with you was open, and a picture of the autographed ball at her mother’s house was ready to be sent.

God, why was she so nervous? She had captained the England women's team to their first major title in history, yet now she was afraid to send a simple message.

“Screw it,” she muttered, hitting send.

“My mom won't let me touch the ball you gave her.”

Leah panicked as soon as the text was sent and quickly locked her phone. She glanced at her watch, it was past eleven o’clock at night, and she didn’t even know where in the world you were right now. The best thing to do was to go to bed and try not to think about the message. Maybe, if she was lucky, you would read it and respond in the morning. 

Within half an hour Leah was in bed, with her ipad in her lap, checking emails. Suddenly, her phone vibrated.

She had tossed it onto the bed ten minutes ago, and now it was lost somewhere among the sheets and the pile of pillows she had. She rummaged around looking for the phone, but couldn't find it, that was until her foot got tangled in the sheets, causing her to tumble to the floor. That's when she saw her phone, on the edge of the bed, covered by a pillow.

Without bothering to get up from the floor, she grabbed the phone and smiled when she saw the notification: a message from you.

“Aww, I seriously thought she would give it to you.”

Would it be too intense if she responded immediately? 

Leah decided to go for it. “My mother is not that kind of mother,” she typed and sent the message, then relaxed as she saw you had immediately read it. The bubble with three dots appeared instantly, confirming you wanted to keep the conversation going.

"Ah, my mother is similar. I understand," you replied.

Leah was taken by surprise when the next message popped up.

“What are you doing at this hour?”

She realized she was still sprawled on the floor of her room. She got up, climbed back into bed, and opened the first streaming app she saw on her ipad, choosing an old movie she had been trying to watch for days. She took a picture, making sure to show only the ipad and part of the bed, then sent it to you.

“Watching something.”

Leah shook her head,feeling like a teenager sending things like that. It reminded her of what she used to do years ago. But she wanted to sound interesting to you. What would you think of her if you knew she was actually just checking emails and watching old football matches, trying to figure out if she could play like she used to?

"What about you? I don't even know what time zone you're in."

“I’m in Italy, just an hour difference :)”

“Italy?”

"Resting. Back to my workouts tomorrow."

"Oh, right. What’s next for you now? Berlin?"

This time Leah was surprised to see that your response was not a text, but a voice message. She hesitated before playing it, then hit the button and heard your voice.

“Wow look at you, you really are a fan,” you said in a teasing tone. Leah blushed immediately. She couldn't send you a voice message because she was sure she would get too nervous. Leah Williamson, the same woman who had spoken at the UN months ago, now felt like a schoolgirl with a crush.

She took a deep breath and replied:

“Of course I am. I’ve watched almost all your matches since Wimbledon last year. I told you I was your fan when I met you. My mother made sure to emphasize that too.”

“I just thought it was to flatter me if I'm being honest... Not that I'm that self-centered, but it wouldn't be the first time it's happened.”

Leah could tell you were walking during the last voice message; there was background noise. You obviously weren't in a room.

“Where are you at this hour?”

The next thing Leah received was a photo of a couple of tennis courts. From the angle and the small table with a glass of water, she deduced that you were sitting a few feet away from the courts.

“I thought you were training from tomorrow?”

"On grass. The grass court season starts soon. Now I was just playing with my racket.” You explained in the message. Leah didn't have a chance to respond before receiving another voice message from you. "But it's getting late now, and I need to rest up for tomorrow's training session. Say hi to your mom for me please." 

"Of course, have a good rest," Leah replied, understanding the importance of proper rest for training sessions, especially during the season.

Days had flown by since that chat, and Leah was getting antsy. She was really hoping you'd reach out first this time, just to ease her mind that she wasn't bothering you. But as she sat at Alex's place,  enjoying a glass of wine over dinner before going out, she couldn't help but feel a bit silly constantly checking her phone for a message that never came.

As far as Leah knew you had already arrived in Berlin for the upcoming Open, not because you told her, but because she'd seen some snapshots of you during training sessions thanks to some tennis websites she followed.

Leah didn't know it, but your mind was fully consumed by the upcoming tournament with Wimbledon just around the corner. It was the topic of discussion throughout your entire day: grass, Berlin, Wimbledon, Leah no, wait, focus on that WTA ranking.

"Ready?" Lucas, your coach, asked, checking his watch. It was the last day before the tournament started.

"Huh?" You looked up, putting your phone down.

Lucas gave you a concerned look. "You okay? You've seemed kinda spaced out for a few days now."

You shook your head, trying to brush it off. "Yeah, yeah, I'm good."

"Is something up? You look kinda off," Lucas took a seat next to you, his concern evident in his expression. “You're not hiding some injury from me?"

"It's nothing. I'm fine, just tired” you lied, standing up and glancing at your phone once more. Lucas caught your glance.

"Don't tell me there's a girl," he said, rubbing his temples.

"What?! No! Of course not!"

"God, I knew it. It's that Italian girl, isn't it? I saw you chatting with her at the hotel."

"That was a waitress, Lucas. I'm serious, there's no one," you said, grabbing your bag from the floor. "I've got my priorities straight."

"Good. What you have to worry about now is Berlin. Remember, Wimbledon's around the corner" said Lucas, standing up and grabbing his bag. "If you want, after that tournament, you can sleep with whoever you want, Italian or not. But for now, you must keep your eyes on the grass. Okay?"

"Okay"

The next morning, as you sat down for breakfast, Leah's face caught your eye while scrolling through your Instagram feed. She had posted some photos, seemingly from a night out. 

It struck you how you hadn't come across Leah until the Roland Garros final; she seemed like an incredible person. You had even done a quick Google search when you first started following her on Instagram, impressed by her contributions to her sport back home.

It wasn't your fault that your family never showed much interest in football, so it wasn't surprising that you couldn't recognize any of the people beside Leah in those pictures. In the final photo, Leah was wearing a top that exposed her abdomen, wow, with a hand from someone you didn't recognize resting on her waist.

“Hmm?” You quickly tapped on the tag on the other woman's body. Her Instagram profile revealed that she was a football player too. Leah was in many of her photos, often seen next to her or hugging her. 

“Hey, Y/N” Lucas intervened, taking the phone from your hand and turning off the screen. “I've been trying to get your attention for minutes, your match starts in an hour.”

You nodded your head. Lucas didn't seem to notice the tension in your jaw, you tended to be serious before matches, so it wasn't unusual.

As you warmed up on the court, your mind couldn't shake the thoughts about Leah.

"Who was that other woman?"

"It doesn't matter. Leah is just a fan, maybe a friend, not someone you're going to marry."

"Exactly. Whether she has a partner or not shouldn't affect anything."

"But I couldn't help but find her cute."

"She's undeniably beautiful."

"Focus on Wimbledon."

Despite the game starting, your mind continued its internal debate.

Your opponent secured the first game at 40-0. Now it was your turn to serve. Just as you tossed the ball into the air, a nagging thought intruded again.

“Does she have a girlfriend?”

The ball hit the net. An irritated sigh escaped your mouth, knowing you had to make this serve count, aiming to avoid a double fault.

Shaking off the distracting thought, you prepared for another attempt. Gazing ahead, you focused on your opponent's movements, determined to regain control of the match.

"Her mother played matchmaker when we met," you mumbled to yourself, the distraction causing you to miss the hit once more. This time, it sailed over the net but landed wide, giving your opponent an unexpected point.

Even your opponent seemed surprised by the unforced error you just made, giving her a point without any effort on her part.

"I need to find out who she is," you muttered under your breath, feeling the pressure with each lost point.

Your serve had enough power behind it this time, but your return lacked precision, sending the ball flying into the stands. As the ball sailed out, your opponent glanced at you in disbelief, clearly surprised by the unforced error you had just made.

"Wälti, that was her name," you murmured to yourself, the name lingering in your mind like a persistent echo. 

With the score now at 40-15, your opponent was on the verge of breaking your serve.

You needed to get rid of the doubt, but you couldn't leave the game, you weren't that crazy. But you could do something else, win the game in record time. Focus on winning to satisfy your curiosity and anxiety. You adjusted the gold chain that hung around your neck and took a deep breath. You had to hurry.

The match ended 0-2, with you taking the sets at 2-6 and 1-6. Your best result on grass.

"Where'd that come from?" Lucas asked once you were alone. "Since when is your backhand so killer on grass?" he wondered. "I've never seen you pull off moves like that on grass."

"Just got inspired," you said, tossing your visor aside and slumping into the chair. "Can I have my phone now?" Lucas hadn't given it back to you yet, not as a punishment, but because you'd asked him to keep it. 

Lucas handed it over, eyeing you. "You're keeping something from me," he noted, scratching his beard. "But if it's what's making you play like a champ, I'm all for it," he said, grinning.

You brushed off your coach's voice, fingers darting to your Instagram. With a few taps, you found Leah's chat, eager to shoot her a message.

"Heyyy! How was your night?" you typed, your leg bouncing with impatience. Though you needed to hit the shower, the excitement of hearing from Leah consumed you.

"Hope you're not feeling too rough today; starting the week hungover would be nasty," you added, fingers hovering over the screen in anticipation. But as the moments passed, there was still no response from Leah, leaving you hanging in suspense.

A cold shower seemed like the perfect remedy to clear your mind, and thankfully, it did the trick. Lucas egging you on for extra drills, especially to fine-tune your backhand, also helped to distract you.

By dinner, any hope of hearing back from Leah had evaporated. You were so disinterested that you didn't even bother bringing your phone along. It wasn't until nearly ten, when you reached for your phone to set the alarm, that you noticed Leah's message—a voice message.

"Hey, fancy hearing from you!" Leah's voice chimed in, carrying that distinctive lilt that hinted at a potential afternoon spent dozing off. You could practically imagine her, wrapped up in blankets, nursing a post-party hangover. "Yeah, went out with some friends. We were celebrating the end of my mate's long-distance thing. Was fun, until they started getting all soppy, reminding me I'm the last single one in the group."

A groan slipped out before she continued, "I may have had a bit too much to drink," she confessed with a sheepish chuckle.

Those messages had been sent around 4 pm, while you were deep into your training session.

The rest of the voice messages were sent after 7 pm.

"What the heck was up with your game today?!" came the first, followed by a chuckle "Just watched the highlights of your match. Seriously, what did that poor player do to deserve such a thrashing from you? She ain't an ex, is she?"

Then, a last voice message added, "Sorry if that sounded a bit too nosy. Just curious, you know?"

You chuckled, enjoying the sound of Leah's accent. It had this magical way of making you grin like an idiot, even when you were just staring at your phone screen.

But now, what really mattered was Leah's relationship status, she was single, confirmed without even having to pry. Knowing she was single now seemed like a game-changer. Suddenly, that whole thing with Wälti didn't matter anymore, Leah's path was crystal clear. Not that you were planning to make any moves to win her over; that was definitely not on your agenda, at least not for now.

“Remember, Wimbledon”

Oh… the other thing that hit you: Leah truly proved herself to be your fan. It blew your mind that someone recovering from a hangover would bother to watch highlights of your match just to chat about it later. She was the first person to do that, apart from your coach or family.

"Hey, I'm free tomorrow, at least from the matches. What do you think if I call you tomorrow?" you typed, feeling a rush of anticipation mingled with nerves as you crawled into bed.

Before closing your eyes, you couldn't resist checking your phone one last time. And there it was, Leah's response: "Sure, call me anytime tomorrow. I'll be waiting for you."

With a grin stretching across your face, you drifted into the most peaceful sleep you've had in ages, feeling a sense of warmth and excitement settling deep within you.

[noiriarti]

Just Practice: Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Modern Best Friends AU) Ch. 2

Summary: Anakin is your best friend, the one person you can't survive without, and you're about to go to different colleges. You bring up your worries about your inexperience and he offers to help.

NSFW!!!!!!! Literally so NSFW!!! TW for mentions of choking and degradation

Ch. 1, [Ch. 2], Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Bonus Chapter

Chapter 2: An Inescapable Fact

Anakin Skywalker was in love with his best friend. It was an inescapable fact, the same way that the sky was blue, and the Earth was round. Another fact was that he had made out with and practically came on his best friend. He didn't really know what he had been thinking, or if he even had been thinking, but, after he left, all he knew was that he wanted to do it again. And again. And again.

Maybe he liked it a little too much. When he walked down the front steps of your house with his mom, picked up his bike from your lawn, and dashed up to his room to "finish packing," he not-so-subtly palmed himself, his hand lingering on the front of his jeans, where you were grinding against him minutes (minutes!!!) ago. It took him all of thirty seconds to take care of it, imagining you were still on top of him. As he lay there, panting, his hand covered in cum, he wondered if you were doing the same thing. (You were, of course, but he didn't know that.) He pulled out his phone with his clean hand and typed out a message. Hey. His phone dinged less than a second later. Hey, you had sent back. Now he was left wondering what the fuck a person is supposed to say to their best friend who they're in love with and just "for practice" made out with? 

That was great. No, too eager.

That was hot. No, weirdly horny.

How are you? No, too nonchalant.

I've been in love with you since seventh grade and I can't imagine life without you so please don't stop being my friend and if you want to be more I'd really enjoy that but no worries if you want to stay just friends. Jesus Christ.

We should do that again. Passable. Send. 

And so he waited for you to respond. And waited. And then stood up and cleaned himself up. And packed a bit. Eventually, later in the night, his phone pinged and he dove across the room to check it, but it was a notification from Instagram that one of his teammates had sent him a post. Anakin tossed his phone back on his bed with a little bit more force than necessary, then threw more of his shirts into the open suitcase on the floor. Another hour passed, and there was still radio silence from you. He opened his texts and stared at your exchange for a bit. It was still unread.

I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I crossed a line and it obviously is making you uncomfortable. I enjoyed what we did, and I'd like it to continue, if you want. If not, that's chill. I just want you to talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking, and how you're feeling, and if you still want me in your life. Please-- he drafted, stopping suddenly when he saw the Read notification pop up. He deleted the entire thing with shaking hands. What were you going to say?

Those three dots in the bubble were literal torture, he decided. Being stretched on the rack was probably easier than this horrible purgatory of not knowing whether the one person in his life who he couldn't exist without wanted to end their friendship.

Agreed, your text read. He immediately typed out a Are you okay?, which you answered with Yeah, you?. He assured you that he was, and you told him you were going to sleep for the night. Anakin finally put his phone down and asked himself what was wrong with him.

He hadn't felt this way around a girl, well, ever. In sophomore year, Padmé approached him and asked him out. He was so thrilled someone showed interest in him that he didn't think too carefully about it, but he caught feelings for her quickly. She was smart, kind, pretty. All the things a girlfriend ought to be. She made signs for his games, and kissed him with a desire he longed for. Everyone knew that she loved him, especially him. That's what made it gut-wrenching, because there was always something he was looking for that he could never find with her. Something he was missing. Little things killed them, like when she bought him cranberries and didn't know that he hated them, or when he realized her parents would never approve of him, no matter how hard he tried. He was always the captain of the soccer team who lived in the not-so-nice part of the town, where there were more cows than people, and she was always the genius debater from a house that had six bathrooms.

The first time he had sex with her, it was all hands and kisses and whispered praise. The second time, when he was less stunned by the newness of everything, he started feeling it. That wrongness. And it just didn't stop. When he said her name, the word felt foreign on his lips, like he wasn't meant to say it. Once, he brought up doing something more intense, like pulling her hair or smacking her ass, and she said she probably wouldn't enjoy it, but she'd try it anyway. She, in fact, did not enjoy it, and Anakin drove away from her house later that night in his beat-up Toyota feeling like a monster. Everything was just a little off between them. All his fantasies, all his conceptions of how a girlfriend and sex should be were based on how he imagined you would act. He'd know about your sweet tooth and give you the frosting off his cupcake, and you'd give him the pickles off your burger. With Padmé, nothing fit just right, it was a little off. In another world, he thought that he could have choked it down, married her. Had a happy life in a suburb somewhere. She would have loved it.

He found himself responding to her texts slowly, and kept trying to bring himself back to their dates when he zoned out. It didn't work, and, after a teary, bittersweet goodbye eight months after they dated, he was single again. When Padmé got into Harvard in her senior year, his junior year, he congratulated her, and she hugged him, and he knew that they were okay. Maybe he didn't ever really get to know all of Padmé's nooks and crannies because he didn't feel the urge to. With you, it was practically pathological. He hungered for every photo of you, every glance that you threw him. 

Now that he had kissed you, finally giving in to his stupid desires, he knew, with certainty, that this was love. Not a childish crush, not a teenage boy's lust, but love. (And also lust, but that was secondary.) As he fell asleep that night, he decided to tell you that just thinking of you was setting his heart racing now, that he wanted nothing more than to be yours. He'd just do it when he visited you.

When he loaded his whole life (three suitcases, it turned out) into the back of the massive van your parents had rented, he realized you hadn't seen you this morning yet. Your parents were setting up the front, arguing over which highway to take. Why did it matter? There were four hours until the flight. Your parents had pulled out two of your five suitcases, which Anakin dutifully loaded into the back next to his own luggage. You must have packed a whole rack of weights inside them, leaving Anakin sweating after stuffing the trunk.  The pom poms you had made for both of your suitcases (an early going away present, you had said, which made his heart constrict and ache) were laid down like ducks in a row. As your mother emerged with the remaining three suitcases, probably even heavier than the first two, he thanked his lucky stars Coach made them do so much conditioning. That, and the away games gave him practice at waking up at the ass-crack of dawn, a skill that came in useful today.

You weren't a morning person, which he knew, so your absence wasn't a shock, but you coming out of the house looking perfectly awake was. Anakin watched you cast one last look at your house, memorizing its grooves like you didn't already know them by heart, before you turned your gaze to him. Your eyes met, and he instantly looked away. Fuck, you looked pretty this morning. You walked up to him, and he noticed the faintest trace of makeup around your eyes.

"You look nice," he blurted out once you walked up to him. He cursed himself. When had he become so awkward around you?

"Thanks," you said as you smiled back at him. Like nothing had ever happened, like he hadn't kissed your neck eight short hours ago. So it probably meant less to you than it did to him. The cool early morning air soothed the sting of that idea. You climbed into the backseat, wedging yourself in between the various backpacks and Anakin's seat. When he buckled himself in, your thighs were pressed together, just like last night. Anakin's hand itched to bring your legs over his, to grab your knee and kiss you again. But he wasn't going to.

The car ride was calming, only an hour to the airport, and you were the only car on the road. In the dark, early morning, you had fallen asleep almost instantly. Your parents had lapsed into silence, and he was supposed to be only torn up about leaving his mom, but he kept getting distracted by the way your head lolled around the headrest. Eventually, your head fell into the space between you, resting at an angle Anakin thought would need a chiropractor to fix. So, he did what any best friend would. He gently guided your head to his shoulder. It must have been more comfortable for you that way, anyway. He couldn't sleep, hyperaware of your every movement like he had never been before. Heart fluttering and hands antsy, Anakin managed to survive the drive. Once you got to the airport, and your parents called your name, you jolted up, and he missed you immediately. If he thought separating before would be hard, he had fucked up last night and made it a thousand times worse. Not that he regretted it, really.

The five of you made it through check-in (another lifting of the bags, which broke him into a sweat he hoped looked rugged and not gross) and security (where every single one of his bags was pulled aside because he was carrying some of his projects, which, okay, did have a lot of wires and chips in them, but he was an engineer, dammit, not a bomber). By the time you had dragged yourselves to the gate, the sun had risen. Your flight was first, straight to LaGuardia, then Anakin and Shmi would get on the plane to Ithaca just an hour later. You still had two hours until the flight, which the two of you spent in McDonalds getting one last Icee (cherry for Anakin, blue raspberry for you), drinking it until Anakin's stomach hurt from the sugar. It was like the previous night never happened, and neither of you mentioned it, dodging the topic and filling every silent moment with some comment about a tourist dropping all their bags or some mom with a child on a leash. When the first boarding call came from your gate, only ten seconds' walk away from your current perch next to some chargers on a wall, he knew your parents would want you back soon. He only had a minute, and you sensed it too. The sun was rising, casting its sleepy shine through the windows of the terminal and lighting up a halo of frizz around your head. You were beautiful, he thought. He pulled you into a crushing hug.

"Thank you for being my best friend. Promise you won't forget me?" You whispered to him while still in his bear hug. The tiny voice you used, the fear that question hid were too much for him. He pulled you in tighter, until he could barely breathe. 

"I could never. I'll be your best friend forever," he affirmed. Because that's what you were, above all else. Friends. Anakin had to preserve that, and he wavered on the decision to tell you about his feelings. Your friendship came first. When he walked you back to your gate, the last he saw of you was when you turned back to look at him right before walking through the gangway to your plane. It reminded him of the way you looked at your house before you left, a gesture of love and loyalty. Then you were gone, and he missed you instantly.

Another hour in the airport was dreadfully boring without you, it turned out, and the five hour plane ride was even worse. By the time they landed, Anakin was practically ready to jump out of the emergency exit, just for the entertainment of it. Everything he did was tinged with the slightest bit of disinterest. The book he packed, The Art of Electronics, proved to be dreadfully dull, and his phone was similar. There was only one person he wanted to hear from.

When they landed in Ithaca's airport, Anakin and Shmi loaded into a taxi and drove off to his dorm, which was comfortingly close. Just a hop away, then he could be home. The room itself, when entered, smelled damp and stale but at least looked clean. He and Ben, his slightly older roommate who played professionally in leagues in the UK before coming to college, got on like fire and tall grass, and Shmi practically had to keep reminding them that they, indeed, needed to unpack. 

Around five, he shot you a text.

Anakin: How's your room?

You: Nice, big! Here's a pic

You sent a picture

You: I finally met Ahsoka IRL, and she's just as nice as I thought she'd be!

You: I really like hanging out with her and her girlfriend Barriss

You: What about you?

Anakin: It's good, me and Ben, who's also on the soccer team

Anakin: lmfao that looks tiny

Anakin: We have a common room

Anakin: Feast your eyes

Anakin sent a picture

You: Jesus how have you managed to make it gross already

Anakin: It's not gross

Anakin: The Nicki Minaj American flag is camp

Anakin: And we only need two chairs for the TV

You: Two folding chairs in the middle of the room and nothing else on the walls is unhinged

Anakin: Unfriended

He smiled and set his phone down. Things were back to normal. Now, all he had to do to finish move-in was get thoroughly drunk with his new teammates.

You kept in contact with one another, sending cute squirrels (Anakin) and rats (you) that crossed your paths, or updating each other on your classes. Two weeks in the semester, Anakin finally felt brave enough to ask you. He was sitting on his newly-acquired couch, which you had bullied him into buying off of Facebook Marketplace. It was dingy, and had several stains that made him wonder if it was a crime scene, but it was cheap, and that was what mattered.

Anakin: Hey, can I come over this weekend?

You: Please. I'm going crazy here without you.

Anakin: Can I crash on your floor then?

You: I mean, if you're coming, we could practice a bit more, so you wouldn't have to use the floor

Anakin: That sounds amazing. What do you want to do?

You: I don't know. What do you want to do?

Anakin: I asked first

You: lol idk. It's just weird to talk about this with you

You: Not that I don't enjoy it, or want it. Just still feels weird.

Anakin: I get that, for me too.

You: I don't know if I'm ready to be idk, naked? I guess?

You: But I want to do more

You: I think I want to try giving head

Anakin: You don't have to do anything you don't want to

Anakin: I'd enjoy that a lot

You: g2g to class ttyl

Ben wasn't home, thank God, or else he could have walked in on Anakin stroking himself in the living room like a pervert. The image of your lips around him was too much to resist, even for the second it took him to get up and walk to his room. While fucking his fist, the fantasy escalated. Him fucking your throat harshly, feeling you gag on it. Him using your hair to drag your mouth up and down his cock while your hands were tied behind you. Once he came, he started feeling guilty about imagining you in such a rough situation. Anakin had no idea if you even wanted that, and he vowed to let you take the lead as much as possible. He also felt guilty about leaving another teeny tiny stain on the already suspicious couch when some cum dribbled down his hand, but it kind of blended in.

On Tuesday, he left his electrical engineering course when he got a text that stopped him in the middle of the hall.

You: Hey

You: So I am going to a sex store for the first time today

Anakin: Hey

Anakin: Wow ok exploring nyc

You: Should I get anything for this weekend?

Anakin: Idk, up to you

Anakin: Just choose whatever you want to try

You: ok i will pull up with a massive horse dildo for u then king

You: But seriously, I want to make it enjoyable for you too.

You: Do you have any requests for like outfits or something?

Anakin: fuck all the way off

Anakin: What? Like, shirts?

You: No

Anakin: Oh

Anakin: Whatever makes you feel good

You: But cmon you've got to have a pereference

You: *preference

Anakin: pereference

Anakin: I don't have a pereference

Anakin: You could say I don't perefer anything

You: Fuck off

You: Answer the question motherfucker

Anakin: Idk maybe black lace? Whatever makes you happy

Anakin: I've always wanted to rip fishnets, if that's something you want

You: Sounds like a plan

He liked the message and slipped his phone in his pocket as he bounced over to the student lab, ready to finish the Arduino gadget he was making for class. You in a lacy set sounded like a dream come true, mainly because he was almost certain he had that exact wet dream last year.

The four ensuing days allowed Anakin to think, for once, which was never a good idea. It grew new doubts to stress over. Had he accidentally pushed the idea of fishnets on you? What if you weren't into the stuff he was into, or if you decided you weren't into him enough to be able to do anything further with him, now that the horny initial haze had dwindled? He was considering this again while on the train, watching the upstate countryside roll by. Sometimes it was close enough to Minnesota that he felt like he was home, so he shot his mom a text saying he missed her, and that he'd call her tomorrow. He also had two unread texts from you.

You: Hey!! When you arrive just text me and I'll grab you

You: I'm excited to see you

Anakin: Hey

Anakin: I'm excited to see you too

Anakin: Lots of stories to share

Before he could think better of it, he typed out something he hoped would dull the constant questioning in his mind.

Anakin: Oh

Anakin: Also

Anakin: I feel kinda bad for bringing up something only I'm interested in the last time we talked about me coming over

Anakin: This should be about you

You: Takes two to tango, as they say

Anakin: Never say that again

You: I will say it again

Anakin: Shut up I'm trying to be serious

You: I'm saying that I'm interested in that sort of stuff

You: When I was at the store there were a bunch of things I wanted to try

You: Like wax and ropes

Anakin: Kinky

And, now, the question he had been nervous to ask, or even to think about. 

Anakin: Do you want to try them on me, or for me to try them on you?

You: Definitely you doing that to me

You: I've been doing research

You: There's a lot of stuff I want to try, if you want to practice with me

Anakin: Fuck that sounds fun

Anakin: Like what?

Was he letting his cards show too much? Maybe. It just felt too good not to ask.

You: Degradation, overstim, just idk. Rough in general

You: Down the road maybe rope

Anakin: Damn ok 50 shades of grey

Anakin: You have been doing your research

Anakin: That all sounds good to me, as long as it's good for you

Anakin: I can't wait to get there

The rush of excitement he felt at the idea of tying you up and fucking you until you screamed drowned out the notes he was meant to be reviewing in front of him, and the circuit diagram he was supposed to draw. 

He thought of you splayed out in front of him, covering those slutty lace panties in your juice until it soaked through the other side. He thought about his hand on your neck as you begged him to cum. And--fuck--you gagging on your knees as he thrust into your throat. He was hard--again.

But he had to remember what he was coming here to do, really. To tell you how he felt. He pulled out the piece of paper he had spent the past two weeks writing and rewriting in his mind as he did dribbling drills and soldered wires. There were four drafts in his desk, written out and crumpled into the back of the drawers, because he knew that one look at you in your room, giving him those desperate eyes, would wipe him blank of anything except how much he wanted you. After how platonic you were at the airport, he wasn't sure if he should say anything, because the distance over the next four years would make it so hard to be together, and you hadn't ever talked about long distance. Now, he looked at the paper and didn't know what to think. Did he really want to say words as big as "I love you" so quickly, so soon? The doubt plagued him as he looked over the final version of the letter, which was suddenly sappy and childish.

Since we were kids, I've considered you my closest friend. Someone who made me *me*. I started listening to Fall Out Boy because you did, I peel bananas upside down because you showed me how, and I only eat pepperoni pizza with olives and mushrooms because you've ordered it so much that it grew on me. I treasure you your friendship so much, and those feelings have been changing since we were younger to something more romantic. I don't know when it started, but when we kissed, I knew I loved--

He looked away. Why was he using the word love? He didn't know if you two would even work romantically. What if you went on a date and it felt just like your regular dynamic? What if he was a bad boyfriend, like he was to Padmé, and you didn't want him anymore? Was he about to throw years of your trust away?

He wasn't sure whether to tell you, at all. Anakin just wanted to know if you felt the same way about him, or else he'd lose more than just his pride. He had to give it more time. And, until then, this was all practice anyway. (He was really, really good at lying to himself.) He folded the paper precisely, and stuck it in his pocket. Just in case.

The train slowed with a screeching that rung his ears and arrived at Grand Central. From the moment he left the train, the station was packed with people. Everything was buzzing, from the voices shouting over each other to the side of his arm where someone smacked into him. The air was stale and warm from the bodies, which moved in completely unpredictable patterns through the vast space. If he was this overwhelmed, how were you faring in the city? He made his way to the subway station just a few blocks across midtown, then got on the 1, which was surprisingly clean based on everything he had heard about New York. Anakin half expected to be pickpocketed and to see rats on the trains, but the plastic yellow and red seats playfully shined at him, clean and inviting.

Before long, he found himself on Columbia's campus at sunset, walking through the buildings which all looked a little bit too similar to find your dorm. Carman Hall, there it was. Anakin texted you that he was outside and steadied his nerves. He would finally get to see you again. Hug you again. Kiss you again, a part of his brain that he dutifully shoved into a dark corner said.

Three minutes passed--he was looking at his phone clock for every one of the--and then the entrance clicked open. There you were. You looked amazing, and city life clearly agreed with you. You were wearing a simple denim skirt and green shirt, but you looked incredible. You had added a few ear cuffs, glinting in the dwindling sunlight, which cast your skin in a warm glow.

"Hey," he said into your temple as he crushed you back, "You look--wow." He pulled away and grabbed your shoulders, examining if you were still the person he knew. You were, he determined when you beamed at him. Your hand was still the same as he remembered when you flashed an ID badge, featuring a photo he had taken against a wall in your house, at the bored-looking security guard, who just waved you two by.

Anakin had just started telling you about how one of the midfielders, Rex, kicked the ball directly in the coach's crotch, when the elevator doors opened on the sixth floor, and he followed you down a winding hallway full of nameplates, whiteboards, and decorations. One room had construction paper black cats and pumpkins all over the door, which made him stop and smile. You stopped in front of a door that had fake leaves stuck to it, making it look like a tree was dropping paper leaves onto the floor. You unlocked the door, which groaned as it opened to show exactly the room you had sent him photos of, but with significantly more clutter on your desk.

"Welcome! This is my humble abode!" On the other side of the room, the girl sitting on her bed, cast him a withering glance. She had wide, doe-like eyes that he was sure probably hid a lot of mischief. Her hair was styled in twists she had gathered into pigtails that tumbled over her shoulders, with a string of beads woven into the crown of her head.

"This must be Jake," the woman he presumed to be Ahsoka said, scrutinizing him with her piercing eyes. Jake? Who the fuck is Jake? Anakin wondered as he tried to read your reaction. You spluttered, obviously not ready to have that piece of information revealed yet.

"No, no, this is Anakin! From home!" You put on a strained smile in an attempt to salvage the situation.

"So, you're not dating?" Ahsoka quirked up one eyebrow, not buying for one second that whatever she was seeing in front of her was platonic.

"No, not at all. I could never date him, he's my best friend!" You said too loudly, forcing the words out. Perfect. Just perfect. That solidified his decision. If you were friendzoning him this hard, and you were obviously trying to practice for this Jake guy's sake, then there wasn't any point in what he was going to say. The paper in his pocket was so easy to crush under his fingers, he almost wished he had done it sooner. It was stupid, anyway. This wasn't anything more than two people exploring new things. His feelings would pass, eventually.

Ahsoka shrugged and hugged you goodbye after she slipped off the bed and grabbed an overnight bag. She left, presumably for Barriss's room, and closed the door behind her.

In the silence left in the room, the words were on the tip of his tongue. Who's Jake?, he would ask nonchalantly. Like it didn't matter. Anakin stopped himself. It wouldn't do him any good to know more. Instead, he kept recounting the story of Rex making the whole team run sprints for the day with his crazy aim, albeit with less enthusiasm. In return, you told him about the suck-up in your Intro to Psychology course, who gushed to the professor that he loved his work and was his biggest fan. It was literally a 101 class, what was he trying to prove?

Anakin's pack lay forgotten by the door as you two recounted your weeks to one another, and for a moment it didn't feel like a new city, it just felt like home. He didn't even realize that it was night until you pointed it out, mentioning that you missed the stars that you could see from your yard. And the fireflies. But the city lights twinkled nicely enough that he couldn't see  a difference. You lapsed into silence, watching students walk out onto the street as stores pulled down their shutter doors. The bed was to your left as you stood watching the window, and your eyes glanced to it. 

"So, um. Want to watch some Netflix?" You said in your best approximation of a sexy voice, turning to your right and looking up at him in a way that you hoped was seductive. Anakin looked at your face and burst out laughing.

"If you want to do stuff, just ask!" He raised the pitch of his voice, imitating yours as he bit his lip fake-sexily. "Netflix and chill?" You grabbed one of the copious pillows on your bed and hit him with it. He caught it immediately and lobbed it back at your head, but you ducked at the last possible moment, so it hit the bed with a thump.

"Missed!" You giggled. That sweet laughter would be the death of him. When you caught your breath, the sweet smile he had stole your breath. 

"Um, do you want to... practice?" You asked. In truth, you wanted him, badly. Your eyes flitted down to his lips, which he immediately noticed and took as his cue to use the last of his willpower to make sure you were okay with this before kissing you silly, and hopefully doing more. Much more. He stepped closer to you, drawing you in with his arms around your waist.

"Just so that I'm perfectly clear. You don't have to do anything that makes you feel the slightest bit weird. We don't have to do anything now, at all. Or ever, if that's what you want," he said huskily.

"No, I do want this," you whispered, nodding and leaning in so that you were nearly touching noses, "I want you down my throat." Fuck. There went his self-control. He crushed his lips into yours, the softness of the previous time eclipsed by the need in both of you that had been building in between texts for the weeks you had been apart.

No. You had to talk this through. He had to know that you understood what you were getting into. Anakin pulled away, even though it killed him.

"We should talk more. No touching until we're done talking," he said, holding his hands up to prove that he was serious.

"Fine. But you're going to break first. I'd bet anything." You also held your hands up, defiant as ever. He was seized with the urge to make you obey him, and quieted it down as much as he could.

"Fine. I'll take that deal. Just, let's talk first. You said that you wanted to try rougher stuff, and I don't want to do that before I'm certain I don't cross a boundary," he said. He thought of himself last year, the guilt over Padmé.

"What boundaries could you possibly cross? I'm asking you to be rough." Anakin was still worried.

"Yes, but it's your first time giving head. I don't want to make it uncomfortable. Or, if I cross a line and can't tell... I just want to keep you safe. How about you tap me twice for good to go, three times for slow down, and four times for stop?" You nodded, giving him those same big eyes that made him want to absolutely ravish you. The time between you stretched, turning pliant and gooey as he searched your eyes for uncertainty. "Show me," he purred. He had poured some of the commanding tone into it that he wanted so desperately to use. You obediently tapped out the sequence on his arm, and he tossed you a smirk. 

"Okay. First of all, I won. You touched me first," he said, enjoying the way you were about to fight him on it, "And, second of all, shut up and kiss me." And you did.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

AN: Oh we are getting raunchy in the next chapter buddies!!!

Tag List (message me or reply if you'd like to be added!): @akixxrafiiy

[squinch-depraved]

schlatt x single mom!reader part 1 (aside from my post about how you met)

(this will be going up on my ao3 once it's ready, i'll probably edit it and format it differently and stuff so don't be surprised if it's a lil different but tumblr gets the first version)

(if anyone has an idea for a title for this series lmk pls eek)

even though daphne’s alarm clock went off at the same time every morning with the same exact song like, well… clockwork, it still infuriated you to no end. having to wake up to “crazy frog” every damn day since you made the mistake of showing it to her almost a year ago now was bad, but what was worse was how for the past few weeks, you would stub your toe or shin or whatever it may be on one of the dozens of packed up boxes strewn about the cramped studio apartment you shared with your daughter on your way to turning off the godforsaken hello kitty alarm clock. if it weren’t so special to the both of you, you would have chucked it out of one of the two tiny windows you had ages ago.

“up, daphydil. we gotta be at the cafe in 20, opening’s in 2 hours. now, c’mon girlie,” you gently coaxed her out of bed. she was small for a five-year-old, golden brown ringlets messily framing her face and hanging in front of her forever wild eyes. a soft smile played at your lips as you stroked her hair. “there’s my beautiful girl. alright, can you be ready in 10 minutes? i bet you can’t. i bet you can’t so much that if you are ready to go in 10 minutes, shoes and everything, i’ll let you ride on my back all the way to the store. does that sound good?” daphne grinned mischievously and nodded.

“can i have a muffin for breakfast at the store?” she asked.

must be a good day, you thought. she’s talking.

“of course, bear. i’ll make the blueberry ones like you like for both of us, how ‘bout that?”

“okay. stop taking up my 10 minutes, please.”

you laughed and rose off her bed. “that’s fair. the clock starts now, daph, gogogo!” you set a timer on your phone and chuckled to yourself again as she raced to her pile of boxes to pick out an outfit. she had the most eccentric taste for a kindergartener. well, she would be in kindergarten. you had yet to find a school that worked for her— sure, she had only tried preschools, but the amount of other kids there combined with the lack of your presence sent her into a shutdown for almost a week each time. so you decided to homeschool her. school didn’t start for another week, so you still had time to get things sorted. but it was going to be extremely challenging, running the cafe, teaching her, getting moved into the new apartment, and all the other stuff you had to attend to.

for a split second as you walked back over to your own pile of clothes, the man from yesterday flashed through your mind. you couldn’t stop yourself from going over his features while you changed into working clothes; something about him made you want to give him a chance. and so, before you knew it, you were responding to his “thanks again” text he had sent once you parted ways.

you: schlatt. if you’re free, meet us at this address for breakfast. would love to talk. if not, we’re there all day. thanks.

with that, you sent him the location of the store and chucked your phone onto the bed, hissing in regret and running a hand through your hair. the embarrassment was short lived, though, as almost immediately your phone dinged with a response.

jesus, eager much?

but being the hypocrite that you are, you dove for the phone, just as excited as he was.

schlatt: hey!! yeah, sure, i can be there in maybe an hour. see you then!

taking deep breaths, you slid your phone into your back pocket and strapped on your work boots, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

“i’m ready.”

“fuck!! oh, jesus, daph, i’m sorry,” you panted. “you scared the shit out of me, girl, you walk too quiet. alright, let me grab a few last things and we’ll go.” she nodded, smiling, and stepped out of your way. after you had locked the door behind you both, she raised her arms as if asking to be picked up and made a grabbing motion. with a dramatic sigh and a roll of your eyes, you squatted down and helped daphne climb on top of your back. once she was settled, you began the trek down the street to the cafe.

you wished more than anything you could see the world through daphne’s eyes. to her, pigeons were fascinating creatures that she could spew off facts about for hours. she was so full of knowledge and so willing to share it; it was how she showed her love. to her, a piece of trash on the ground could be turned into an accessory for a hat, or a decoration, or whatever it may be. she was endlessly creative and resourceful (where she got that from, you had no idea). to her, her mother was a hero. and, god, how you envied her ability to see you that way.

“we’re here!” you announced as you turned the key in the lock and stepped into the dark building. flicking on the lights, you leaned down and let daphne hop off your shoulders. “smells like coffee.”

“i hate the smell of coffee,” daphne mumbled.

“me too, bear. now, c’mon, we gotta get going!! we’re opening soon!”

she began her routine of sweeping the dining area first, and then the kitchen, and then the bathrooms while you turned on all the machines and let a few employees in the back entrance to help start everything up. opening always goes quicker than closing, so it wasn’t long before you opened the doors and let the regulars in.

but among them was schlatt. somehow you had forgotten he was coming, and daphne lit up when she saw him walk in.

“funny man!” she yelled, dropping the tongs she was holding and sprinting around to meet his fistbump from her station at the muffin display.

“daph!! now i gotta wash those again,” you grumbled. “hey, schlatt.” you sheepishly finished wiping down the counter and scanned the store for any customers. luckily, it was saturday, so there were only a few people already seated and enjoying their food; you had some time to talk before the next rush came in.

“child labor, y/n?? really?” he joked, eyeing the menu above you.

“it’s not child labor if you went through labor to have the child,” daphne spoke, repeating a phrase you had said in passing once to a friend.

“oh my god!! daphy, please, can you go make sure the mug shelf is all straight?”

she nodded, glancing at schlatt one last time before she left. he was trying to hold in his laughter, but let out a sputtering chuckle once she walked away.

you closed your eyes and took a breath before speaking. “i’m so sorry. i swear i said that once. like, genuinely one time and she says that whenever someone comments on her working. she’s too smart for her own good, i don’t know what to do with her.”

“you know, you do an awful lot of apologizing when there’s nothing really to be sorry for. she’s hilarious, from what i’ve seen. why do you always try to defend her?”

your face went hot and you stammered a few times. “buy me a drink first, damn, dude…” with a huff, you went back to scrubbing the spotless counter.

“i- fuck. i’m sorry. that’s too much. let me start over, please?” he leaned in a bit, resting his elbow on the surface between you. when you gave him a short nod, he sighed a bit with relief and nodded his head towards a blueberry muffin. “can i get one of those?”

you couldn’t help but grin at his choice of pastry as you packaged it. “anything to drink?”

“what’s your coffee order?”

“three cans of diet coke. i don’t drink that shit,” you tried to jest but it sounded bitter.

he blinked a few times and nodded. “good, me neither. i was willing to, though, let that be known.”

with a laugh, you replied, “noted. here, take a seat and i’ll bring you a lemonade? daph’s idea, she thought it would be refreshing to keep in stock for the heathens like us who don’t drink bean juice.”

“sounds good. i’ll be over here,” he called as he walked towards a table hidden away in the corner. you couldn’t stop smiling to yourself as you poured two lemonades, thanking the stars above you remembered to actually make some this morning. usually nobody ordered any until the afternoon.

setting the two glasses on the table as you slid into the seat across from him, you shot one final glance at your assistant manager, who was running the counter while you took a few minutes to talk with schlatt. luckily, she was too busy with a customer asking for a refill to make a face at you and your new potential suitor.

“holy shit, that’s fancy lemonade. is that mint on top?”

“yeah, daph says it ‘enhances the flavor profile,’ or some shit. she likes food network a lot.”

he eyed the green sprig and took a cautious sip, eyebrows raising once he made a decision on the flavor. “she’s really smart, man. i never woulda thought of this. how old is she?”

“five. she has autism; she’s always been crazy genius. i don’t know how to keep up with her, she’s already smarter than me,” you chuckled quietly. “she’s so creative, too. i can’t find a school good enough to teach her things, she has a hard time being away from me and it’s just a whole thing. speak of the devil, actually.” daphne was skipping across the dining area and sat down in the seat next to you. “hey, bear!”

“i’m not a devil, mama.”

“it’s an expression, baby. remember? like, ‘easy as pie?’”

“oh yeah. because we tried to make pie and it went really bad.”

you sighed, smiling, and rested your head in your hands. “yes, bear. ‘speak of the devil’ just means, ‘here comes the person we were just talking about!’”

daphne pulled out a notebook from her apron pouch and took a pen from your shirt pocket to write down her new phrase.

“what’s that?” schlatt asked her. “you’re five and you know how to write??” you opened your mouth to tell him, but daphne beat you to it.

“i like to write things down so i can talk better.”

“i think you talk just fine, personally.”

both of you flicked your eyes up to squint at him, curling your mouths in the same look of confusion and intrigue.

“oh my god, you two look identical making that face, that’s hilarious,” he mumbled through a mouthful of muffin. at the same time, daphne and you side-eyed each other and started laughing.

“mama says i talk just fine too, but nobody else ever did. now two people think i talk good. maybe you could be my dad,” she wondered aloud. you choked on your lemonade and slammed it back onto the table, spilling some onto the old, damaged wood.

“okay, daph. can you go get me some paper towels from the back to clean this up and then go see if anyone needs help putting sprinkles on the donuts?”

“i already looked, the donuts are done. but the syrups need refilling.”

“okay, go do that, bear.”

“mhm.”

she skipped away, oblivious to what she had just started, and returned a moment later with a roll of towels to clean up. it was silent until she left for the second time.

“you’re gonna trust a five-year-old to refill syrup bottles?”

“she’s actually steadier than i am. she came up with, like, a whole system, it’s really cool. and she’s not by herself, we have a highschooler that’s working with us for the summer, she helps her.”

thank god that’s the first thing he brought up.

“mm. listen, i understand how kids are, we don’t have to talk about what she just…”

“yeah. thanks. she’s, um… she just kinda says what’s on her mind; i can’t stop her.”

“i get it. so, uh,” he rotated his now half-empty glass a few times as he went over what to say in his mind. “why does your nametag say ‘owner?’”

with a glance down at your badge, you slunk down in your chair. “this is my parents’ store. they always wanted me to take over, and i kind of didn’t have a choice after mom fell down the stairs over there. they used to live above the cafe, now they’re in a home and i have to run this dump. at least i get to move out of my studio and into this place, though. if i can ever find the time to actually get my stuff from one place to another.” you sounded more and more dejected as you went on, unable to meet his gaze.

“i can help you move,” schlatt offered smoothly. you smiled, but shook your head.

“nah, man, we have a lot of stuff. it’d be too much to ask of you.”

“shut the fuck up, it’s fine. look, how about we make a trade? i’ll help you move if you let me take you out on a date.”

you blinked a few times in confusion as your face heated up. “m-maybe, dude. i dunno. look, we’re in a rush now, i’ve gotta get behind the counter and try to help my employees get this under control. i’ll come back in a bit.” you gestured to the line that was almost out the door and rose from your seat.

“lemme help!”

his words stopped you in your tracks. “what??”

“let me help,” he repeated, “it’s clear you need it, you’ve got three guys besides you and one of them is a toddler.”

he had a point. flustered, you waved for him to follow you. “just put on an apron and wash your hands.”

the rush of patrons took about an hour to deal with; they just kept coming. schlatt handled everything with grace, upselling people on pastries when they only ordered a coffee and making casual conversation with the usual customers that came in to ask about you and your family.

he was so much better at dealing with chaos than you thought he would be. for some reason, you were expecting him to dip out as soon as he could. it was hard to picture him wanting to hang around after learning about you and how complicated you were. but for some unknown reason, he stayed. you watched him with a soft smile on your face as he undid his apron and hung it back up before stepping around to the other side of the counter.

“wasn’t so bad,” he teased, flicking his head towards the lemonade dispensers. “gimme another one of those.” you pushed the hand that was extending a credit card towards you away and turned around to grab a to-go cup.

“you kickin’ me out?” he asked, holding a hand to his chest in mock offense.

“i can’t work right with you here. need to think. so, i guess, just… show up here at 8 tonight wearing something nice and ready to take me somewhere. you’re gonna help me move my stuff this weekend.” unable to look him in the eyes as your face burned, you handed him the drink and quickly crossed your arms when he took it.

“i am, huh?” he was grinning as he took the straw between his teeth.

“yes.” you swept some crumbs away with your foot and glanced at him for a split second.

“alright, y/n. you like steak?”

“i guess. haven’t had it in years, it’s too expensive…” you mumbled.

“perfect. i’ll see you at 8, toots. bye, daphne!” he waved to the girl who was sitting at the table with an elderly woman sketching something in her notebook.

“bye, funny man!” she called back, not looking up from her drawing. the woman across from her looked shocked at her words.

“bye, schlatt!” you waited until he was down the street before jumping up and down a few times and pumping your fists in the air.

“got a date?” the woman watching daphne asked across the nearly empty store.

“uhm. yeah, actually, i do, mrs. reid,” you stuttered.

“need me to watch daphne for you?”

“yeah, that would be super helpful, actually.” you brought her a new cup of tea and traded it for her old one. “on the house.”

“she’s been talking a lot more.”

running one hand through your hair, you sighed and sat down next to daphne. “yeah, we’ve been working on it a lot. something about schlatt makes her open up. anything to say, bear?”

she just stuck her tongue out in concentration and continued drawing pigeons.

“that’s okay, daphy. you don’t ever have to talk if you don’t want to.” with a gentle pet of her head, you stood up and walked back behind the counter to help a customer that had just come in. you were unable to stop yourself from running over the events of the morning in your head, focusing on how schlatt would smile at you and how he seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say.

you just have to be careful, you kept telling yourself. don’t get your hopes up.

it was too late. you couldn’t help it; your hopes were high. he made you feel… normal again. it had been almost six years since you felt that way. now you were just praying it would last, even if for only a night.

[roosterforme]

Batting Practice Part 20 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When you call and ask him for help, Bradley is more than willing to jump into action. But when he picks up Everett and confronts Danny, he is shocked by what he finds. And while you know you can trust Bradley now, you also realize there are some battles you need to fight for yourself.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, swearing, mentions of marijuana use

Length: 4800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

Bradley was sitting out on his tiny balcony, about to crack open a beer when Molly called him. She had been sending him pictures for the past hour of the two of you at some wine event, and you were both definitely looking a bit tipsy.

"Hey, Molly. You two having fun?"

"Bradley!" It was you. And he could tell immediately that something had you upset.

"Kitten? What's wrong?" 

The sound of you sobbing softly met his ear, and he was out of his chair and heading inside immediately. "I need your help."

"What do you need, baby?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm, but now he was worried. He could hear Molly talking calmly in the background while he waited for you to respond. 

"I hate to ask you to do this, but Molly and I are kind of drunk. Can you go pick Everett up for me?"

Bradley was grabbing his shoes and tying the laces before the full sentence was out of your mouth. "From Danny's?" he asked, and he had such a bad feeling. It was still a couple hours before you and Molly were supposed to even be back in the city, but you sounded distraught. 

"Yeah," you said softly. "He's at Danny's."

"I'll go get him now," he said, grabbing his key ring and spotting your house key there. "Text me his address."

"Oh my god, thank you so much," you gushed. "I'll owe you dinner-"

"Baby," he said, propping his phone between his ear and his shoulder. "You don't owe me anything. I'm happy to do it."

But you still whispered a soft, "Thank you."

"Do you want me to bring him back to my apartment? Or take him to your house?"

"Either one," you replied. "I'll try to reach Danny and let him know you're going to pick Ev up."

"Sounds good," Bradley replied, and you ended the call as he was starting the Bronco. And then he began to feel like everything wasn't adding up. You wanted him to pick Everett up, but Danny didn't know about it? 

You texted the address, and he entered it into his GPS without giving it much more thought. If you wanted him to pick up Everett, he would do it. His eyes settled on the booster seat in the back as he pulled out of his parking space, and he got on the highway to Mission Beach. 

Danny lived on a very nice street which surprised Bradley, because you had told him Everett's dad claimed he couldn't afford to pay any child support. "Fucking asshole," he muttered, putting the Bronco in park outside of the address you had sent to him. At least he probably wouldn't have to chat with Danny too much. He could just get Everett and get out. 

Bradley adjusted his backward Phillies cap and squared his shoulders before he knocked on the door. And to his surprise, Everett threw the door wide open a second later, looking thoroughly upset. 

"Coach!" And then Everett had his arms wrapped around Bradley's waist, and he was immediately hit with the smell of marijuana. Bradley wrapped a protective arm around Everett and rubbed his back. "Can you take me home?"

"Yeah," Bradley grunted, pushing the door open all the way and looking inside. "Where's your dad, Kiddo?" he managed to ask in a very calm voice, when really he just wanted to rip the door off the hinges. 

"In his room with Tori. I tried to knock, but they didn't hear me."

Bradley saw an ipad on the couch next to Everett's baseball backpack and some snack bags. "Okay. Yeah. Go grab your stuff and I'll take you home." His blood was boiling as he watched Everett swipe everything off the couch and into the bag and come running back over. Bradley took his small hand and closed the door quietly. 

Then he led Everett out to the Bronco without a word between them. Bradley knew as soon as he spoke, he was going to blow up. So he helped Everett get into the Bronco and get buckled in. And then he rolled the window down a few inches as he whispered calmly, "You stay here for just a minute, okay?" Everett nodded at him, eyes wide. This child wasn't stupid, he knew something was going on, and Bradley didn't want to upset him further. 

"Okay," Everett whispered. Bradley kissed the top of his head and locked him inside the Bronco. He would make this quick. 

Bradley's breaths were coming short and shallow as he could feel the rage flowing through his body. Either you didn't know Danny was smoking with Everett there, or for some reason you didn't mention it. Maybe you suspected something, or maybe Everett had called you on his own. Regardless, you were away and drunk, and you had trusted Bradley to take care of this situation for you. He honestly loved that you asked him for help; he would do anything for Everett. 

But there was no way he could leave without taking care of the rest of this for you whether you asked him to or not. He glanced back at Everett sitting in the car, and then he made a fist and pounded on the door until Danny started calling out, "Hang on!"

Bradley kept his hand in that tight fist as the door opened to reveal Danny who was very clearly stoned and standing next to a young woman in a tee shirt and underwear. "What the fuck do you want?" Danny asked, looking at Bradley closely for a few seconds. "Wait. Are you that tee ball coach?"

"Where's your son?" Bradley asked, clenching his right hand tighter, practically shaking with the urge to level your ex husband. "Where's Everett?" Bradley asked, trying so hard to keep his voice calm, but he could see Danny flinch. 

"Huh?" he asked, turning around and looking at the living room and kitchen. 

"Come on, Danny. Where is he? Are you so stoned you can't figure it out?" Bradley asked, his volume rising with each word. He watched the woman reach out for Danny who was looking very confused now.

"He's here somewhere," Danny muttered, clearly more interested in sex and weed than his own kid. Bradley stepped inside the house and shoved him.

"He's not here, asshole. He's in my fucking car!"

"Get the fuck out of my house," Danny said, staggering backwards as Bradley shoved him again. 

"I took your kid from your house without any issue, which you'd know if you were fucking paying attention to him instead of using drugs! In front of a six year old!" Bradley had him by the shirt collar now. 

"Do you want me to have you arrested for kidnapping?" Danny sputtered, and Bradley laughed right in his face.

"You want to call the police? Go ahead. Please do. I have permission from his mom to pick him up here. Do you have permission from his mom to smoke pot around him? You're house fucking reeks."

The woman took a step away and said, "I'll call the police."

"No! Tori, do not call the police!" Danny yelled at her as Bradley shook him until Danny met his eyes.

"Let her call," he said, much calmer now. "I'm sure they'd love to know all about this." He shoved Danny back against the wall and let go of his shirt.

"Get the fuck out of my house," Danny said more forecefully, but his eyes were still glassy and unfocused. 

"No," Bradley replied, glancing back out to make sure Everett was okay. "I'm not done yet, you piece of shit."

"Well then finish up and leave," Danny managed through clenched teeth, and Bradley thought he'd never seen someone so cowardly in his life. 

Bradley jabbed his index finger into Danny's chest until he knew it would bruise. "You don't deserve that kid, and you never did. And you better give his mom whatever she asks for, because she has been picking up your slack for years, you worthless motherfucker."

With one more glance around the house, Bradley stormed out and headed down the sidewalk back to Everett. He heard the front door slam behind him, and he had to roll his shoulders and count slowly to ten to get control of himself. He swallowed hard before he unlocked the driver's door and let himself inside the stuffy Bronco. He turned around and smiled at Everett who still looked confused and scared. 

"You hungry, Kiddo? It's almost dinner time." Everett nodded silently. "How about a Happy Meal?"

"Okay. Chicken nuggets, please," he said, and Bradley was relieved he was talking again. 

"You truly are a kid after my own heart," Bradley told him as he started the engine. He quickly texted both you and Molly and let you know he had Everett and that he'd take him to your house after stopping at McDonald's. 

"Hey, Coach?" Everett asked softly as Bradley pulled away from the curb.

"Yeah, Kiddo?"

After a beat of silence he said, "Will you tell my mom I don't want to go back to my dad's house anymore?"

Bradley could feel tears burning the backs of his eyes. Danny had the opportunity to be a dad, but he didn't want it. But as far as Carole had ever told Bradley, Nick had been so happy to be a father, it made it that much harder for them to lose him when Bradley was young. Some things were so unfair, Bradley couldn't properly put them into words. But you had to know by this point that you couldn't force Danny to do something he didn't want to do. He just didn't want to love Everett. The most lovable kid. 

"Yeah," Bradley said, his voice sounding raspy to his own ears. "I'll talk to your mom later, okay? Let's go get some chicken nuggets."

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

Molly made you walk around the vineyard for a full hour before she would let either of you near your car. And then she insisted on being the one to drive back to the city. 

Bradley had texted you to let you know that he had Everett with him, and that they would be waiting at your house. But now you were sitting in a silent car with Molly while she gripped the steering wheel. There was so much traffic, it would probably be an extra hour before you got home. 

Eventually, as you wiped more tears from your eyes, Molly asked, "Do you think he was smoking weed around Ev?"

"I don't know," you whispered. "I'm too afraid to ask Bradley what happened. I think I just need to hear everything all at once instead of texting him for bits of information." 

"Makes sense," she replied. "But I swear, I'll happily kill Danny with my bare hands. You just say the word, okay?"

You nodded silently, and looked at your phone for the hundredth time. Bradley had texted you a picture of him and Everett eating Happy Meals at your kitchen island an hour ago.

Bradley Bradshaw: We are bummed we got duplicate toys. But we are just fine. See you when you get here.

They seemed happy enough in the photo, so you kept looking at it while Molly tried to navigate through all the traffic. "Come on," she groaned, honking at someone who tried to cut her off. "What the fuck."

When she finally pulled into your driveway next to the Bronco, it was getting pretty dark, and you were out of the car before she had even parked. You ran up to the front door and jammed your key in the lock, shouldering the door open. 

But what you saw had you frozen in place, like the wind had been knocked out of you. You could hear Molly coming up the porch steps, so you signalled for her to be quiet. Then you stepped fully into your living room which Everett and Bradley had turned into a gigantic pillow and blanket fort. 

The TV was on, softly playing the end credits of Toy Story, and you had to cover your mouth with your hand to keep from laughing or crying. Because the two of them were sound asleep amongst the pillows on the floor underneath one of your fleece blankets that was stretched from the couch and over the coffee table like a tent. Bradley was laying on his back with Everett curled up against his right side, and you thought you were going to melt into a puddle. 

"Oh my god," Molly whispered, closing your front door softly and coming to stand next to you. "You need to marry him."

You had to stifle your laugh as tears filled your eyes. Bradley had taken care of everything. Sure, it was going to take you an hour to clean up this elaborate fort, but you didn't care at all. As you set your bag down and took your shoes off, Molly peeked out the front window. 

"Bob is going to pick me up so you can have a conversation with Bradley," she whispered. "Will you call me later tonight? Any time is fine."

You nodded and wrapped your arms around her, holding her tight as a few more tears fell. "Thank you for driving and for everything, Molly. I love you."

She kissed your cheek as you heard Bob's truck pull up outside. "Call me."

And then she was gone, and you were crawling inside the blanket tent and curling up against Bradley's left side. When you pressed your lips to his cheek, he started to stir. 

"Kitten," he whispered in his sleepy voice, pulling you closer as Everett continued to doze. He squeezed your hip with his big hand and kissed you softly. "You okay?"

You nodded and rested your head on his shoulder. "I'm okay now."

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

When Everett woke up to find that you were home as well, laying on Bradley's other side with your fingers stroking his mustache and scruffy cheeks, he scrambled over Bradley and into your arms.

"Mommy!"

Bradley crawled out from under the blanket fort and stretched while you held Everett and kissed him. He turned off the TV and started to clean up the wrappers from the Happy Meals as well as some of the pillows. This way he could give you some time to talk quietly with Ev. But because he wasn't sure if he should stay or leave, he lingered a bit since it was close to Everett's bedtime now. 

When you and Everett finally crawled out from under the tent, Bradley's arms were full of both of you. "Thank you." Your words weren't necessary, and you'd already thanked him so many times, but Bradley thought perhaps you needed to say them again. And now he was dreading telling you what happened at Danny's

"Will you carry me up to bed?" Everett asked, looking up at Bradley. He finally seemed like the relaxed, happy child he usually did. 

"Of course," Bradley replied, scooping him up and carrying him upstairs. In no time, he was snuggled up in bed holding the plush Phanatic in both arms. And Bradley's heart was aching. 

"Baby, we need to talk," he told you as you led him out of Everett's bedroom. 

You nodded with a look of agony on your face. "I know." You walked ahead of Bradley and went to your bed, holding the covers up for him to crawl in with you. You swallowed hard as he wrapped his arm around you so that you and he were laying face to face. "I know you won't always be able to help out like you did today."

Bradley's brow scrunched up, and he pursed his lips. "What do you mean? Of course I will."

You sighed and looked at him. "I just mean, even if we're together, you could be deployed or something."

"Kitten, I'm not going anywhere. And if I'm deployed, baby, you still have Molly and Bob. Hell, you could have called Nat for help today, too. She would have probably beat the living shit out of Danny, but she would have brought Everett home safe and sound."

You closed your eyes and pressed your face into his chest as you asked, "What happened when you got to his house?"

Bradley sighed and rubbed your back, trying to decide just how much detail to give you. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel any worse than you already clearly did. 

"Just tell me, Bradley," you gasped, gripping his shirt. But when he still hesitated, you said, "Just tell me everything."

"I knocked on the door, and Everett answered," he said softly, still rubbing small circles along your back through your shirt. "Danny was nowhere in sight, and I took Everett right outside and got him buckled into his booster seat."

You pulled away from him and stared off into space. "You...took him right out? And Danny had no idea? Why wasn't he with Everett?!"

Bradley shook his head and kissed your forehead five times before he said, "Danny was high, Kitten. He had been smoking, and the whole house smelled."

You started sobbing against his chest. "That's what I was afraid of after Everett called and told me it smelled weird. But I was trying to hope that I was wrong about it." You were quiet for a minute. "Was there a woman there?"

"Yeah," Bradley whispered. "She was high, too. After I got Ev safely locked up in the Bronco, I went back up and pounded on the door until they answered. I thought for a second that I was going to lose it and knock him the fuck out. Honestly, the only reason I didn't was because Everett was ready to leave."

You were crying in earnest now as you pushed Bradley fully onto his back. When you sat up on your knees and swiped at your tears, you said, "I don't even know why I'm crying. I am not sad, I'm furious! And now I have to go over there and talk to Danny about this!"

Bradley watched as every emotion flitted across your face, and then he sat up to give you a kiss. "Everett doesn't want to go back to Danny's house anymore. He begged me to tell you that."

You nodded and cradled your forehead in your hands. "Okay. Now I am sad."

He let you have a few minutes to process everything before saying, "If you want me to stay tonight, I'll stay. But if you want me to go so you can have some space, just say the word, and I'll lock up when I go."

"I need to call Molly. And I think I need to be alone," you whispered. But before Bradley went back to his apartment, he held you until you promised him you were feeling better.

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

When Bradley only received a few texts from you on Monday, he was beginning to feel apprehensive. But when Molly pulled into the parking lot with Everett for tee ball practice, Bradley knew something was wrong. Because he expected that you would have told him you'd be missing practice. 

"Everything okay?" he asked Molly as Everett ran over to him.

She just shrugged and handed the gear bag to Bradley when he reached for it. "I'm not sure."

He gave her an appraising look. "Where is she?" But he didn't need to ask, because he already knew. And now he was getting pissed that you hadn't told him before going over there.

"Danny's," she whispered, and Bradley started texting you right away. He would have preferred to go with you. "I told her I would take Everett home for a sleepover if she needed me to."

And then Bradley understood that you weren't expecting a positive outcome from your encounter with your ex. Fuck. He had an hour long tee ball practice to get through before he could even get over to your house to see if you needed anything. 

His patience was already short when he knelt to help Everett with his cleats before sending him out to Bob. And that's when Sandra opened her mouth. "I can't help but notice that she's not here. I think it's her turn to bring snacks."

Bradley met her eyes and watched her cheeks turn scarlet as she snapped her mouth shut. He could only imagine what he must look like right now. 

"I have the snacks and juice boxes in my car, so really there's no need to comment on anything," Molly said sweetly. "But if you do feel the need to comment further, my car is that blue Honda, and I'd be happy to meet you there after practice is over. Just keep in mind that I'm in a raging bad mood today, and I'm nowhere as nice as my sister."

"Having been on the receiving end of your rage, I can vouch for that," Bradley muttered to Molly, making her chuckle. "Hey, after practice I'm just going to head right to her house."

Molly nodded. "That's probably a good idea. I'll distract Everett this evening, but she's going to need someone to vent to, I think."

As soon as practice was over, Bradley contemplated picking up dinner, but he decided getting to you was more important. And when he let himself inside your house, he was so damn thankful he hadn't stopped anywhere on his way.

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

You hadn't even knocked on Danny's door yet, but you just knew you were about to feel his wrath. Instead of contacting him first, you simply left work and headed to Mission Beach, hoping to blindside him. 

When Danny opened his front door, he just shook his head at you. "I don't have time for this right now."

"Yes, you do," you replied, feeling your anger fill you up. 

"I'm in the middle of something," he replied, starting to shut the door. But you wedged your body in before he could close it completely. "So you're just going to barge in then? Like your boyfriend?"

"I guess so," you growled, slamming the door closed once you were inside. 

"What do you want?" he asked blandly.

Rage. That was the only thing you could feel now. "I want you to tell me what your problem is! Smoking pot while you're supposed to be watching Everett? Really?"

He got right in your face, and you staggered back against the front door. "You are the one with the fucking problem, okay? I told you I didn't want him here yesterday, but you insisted."

You pushed yourself away from the door so your chest was bumping his. He was bigger than you, but you weren't going to back down. "I gave you two options, Danny. So I guess you'll be taking the paying child support route then?"

When he clenched his fist at his side, you felt your tummy dip in fear. "We have been over this. I don't have the income for that right now."

"You have money for weed," you growled. "Why don't you give me that cash and call it a day?"

"You don't understand!" he yelled. "You never understood, and that's why we aren't married anymore."

You swallowed hard. "We're not married anymore because I left with Everett. Because we deserved better. And being on our own was a much better option than being with you. But he's still your kid! So I'm going to call my lawyer."

His eyes flashed. "You're getting a lawyer involved? I don't have money for that."

"Then what do you suggest I do, Danny?" you asked, your tone patronizing now. You knew it wasn't a good idea to goad him on, but you couldn't help yourself. "Get a time machine and convince my past self not to let you fuck me? That's what you expect me to do?"

"No!" he hollered. "I expect you to leave me the hell alone! You and Everett both! So whatever needs to be done to make that happen, that's what we are going to do!"

You were shaking now as his words sunk in. The bile started to rise up in your stomach, but you couldn't move. Your teeth started to chatter. "I can understand your anger with me," you whispered. "But you don't want him around at all?"

"No!" 

And with that one final word, you felt your stomach clench painfully. "And you're going to refuse to pay child support?"

"Yes! I don't want to have to deal with any of this!"

You sucked in a few breaths before you could speak again. "You want to sign away custody? Never spend time with your kid again?" You had to wipe your eyes to be able to see clearly.

"Yes! Use your fucking lawyer to make that happen, okay?" he barked at you, face red with anger. "I don't want you around, and I don't want him. Now, how about you get out of my house?"

Your breath was coming in short gasps and you thought you might faint. But when you didn't move fast enough for his liking, Danny physically turned you and opened the door before trying to push you outside with his hand on the back of your neck. 

"I'm not going to give you another chance with Everett after this," you said, tears dripping from your eyes as you spun around to face him. But your necklace chain was caught in his fingers, and he snapped it as he pushed you again. You caught the chain and the charm in your hand before they could drop, and you looked up at him. 

"Get out," he barked. "And don't come back until you have something for me to sign."

You squeezed your paw print charm in your hand as you ran out to your car, nearly tripping in your high heels, and started the engine. The interior echoed with your broken sobs as you made the first turn toward your house. 

Danny didn't want Everett. As hard as you tried to process things, the words just stayed at surface level, because they didn't make sense. You couldn't accept them as the truth. That was Everett's dad, and dads were supposed to want their kids around. Dads were supposed to love their children. You and Molly had been raised by older parents who loved you both, and you didn't get enough time with either of them. 

But that wasn't the case with Danny at all. Danny didn't want Everett. He just couldn't be bothered. He really was that selfish. 

What was wrong with you that you kept trying for so long? Did you really think he was going to change his mind? You left him for a reason. But you always thought that you were the problem, because how could anyone not want Everett? 

When you looked up, you were parked in your driveway. You didn't remember driving home. You walked inside to your empty house and took off your work shoes, still clutching your necklace as you walked upstairs to your bathroom. 

Danny didn't want Everett. 

You threw up in the toilet and then sat down hard on the floor. You must have done something wrong, because that was the only explanation for this. You pushed too hard, or you didn't push hard enough. Danny had wanted you to get an abortion, but you thought you were in love. You dreamed of having the perfect family, and you thought he would eventually change his mind. But he didn't. He never did. Danny didn't want Everett. 

You curled up on the bathroom floor and gripped the tub mat to your chest, still clutching your necklace, and you let yourself cry. It was all your fault. Everything was your fault. And now you were going to have to call your lawyer and explain out loud to another person that your ex husband didn't want your son. Danny didn't want Everett. As if there was some reason that your son didn't deserve to be loved. As if your six year old child had done something egregious or unforgivable. But all he had ever done was make you happy and give you purpose. How could someone not want him around? 

"Oh god," you gasped as your tears rolled down your cheeks and onto the floor. At least Molly would take care of Everett for the night, because you wouldn't be able to look him in the eye right now. It would be a while before you could process all of this. "Why?" you sobbed, unable to catch your breath. You rolled onto your back and draped your arm over your eyes, but the pain in your chest just grew worse and worse, and you started gagging on your tears. 

You couldn't catch your breath, and you couldn't hear anything past the wretched sobs filling the small room. Until you saw movement out of the corner of your watery eyes. 

"Oh, Kitten. I'm here." And then you felt him lay down next to you and collect you into his arms as you sobbed harder.

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

Yes, Coach! Stepping up and taking care of things, but putting Ev first! I feel terrible for Kitten. She really can't understand Danny. Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

PART 21

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[adorethedistance]

I Don’t Just Like You - Trevor Zegras x Hughes!Reader

Hockey Masterlist

Warnings: swearing, tension/fighting, jealousy, Dixie lmao

Words: 2161

Summary: Tension builds with Trevor over his new partnership until the two of you confess your feelings.

A/n: Y'all I am so not doing well rn. I am processing a break up and questioning my social circle and im so lonely that I needed to write some angst to cope with it all. Hope yall like this one and maybe it'll get a smut part two depending on whether or not I can handle writing that rn lol. Enjoy!

Moose: call me ASAP

Me: sorry Luke. can’t rn

Moose: Awesome 😎

My hands quake with anxiety as I fiddle with the tarnished silver ring adorning my pointer finger. The moisture of my skin eases the movement of turning the ring around my finger. I hiss when the gemstone catches on the skin of my middle finger and immediately drop my hands. 

Currently, I’m staring down at the risky text I just sent Trevor. About an hour ago he had messaged me:

Trev: hey sorry can’t swing tn after all 

Trev: rain check?

My jaw tightens with contempt and I huff out a sigh as my bottom lip trembles. I feel pathetic for just how impacted I am by his every word. I angrily hit the digital keys of my phone’s keyboard as I type my reply.

Me: really? 

Me: again??

Trev: don’t be like that

I’m not the most confrontational person. On any given day some might say I’m the furthest thing from confrontational. To put it rather plainly, I just don’t like it. I hate the way I get anxiety butterflies in my stomach. I hate absorbing the emotions of the other person, especially when rejection is involved. I hate what projections I’m opening myself up to receiving from the other person. There are too many pitfalls and not enough landing pads. Which is why it’s so out of character for me to press him on this.

Me: like what Trev?

This is the third time in a row Trevor has cancelled plans on me. I don’t know if he’s aware of that. I don’t even know what he’s been up to lately. He’s refused to tell me what he’s been doing instead, which didn’t raise my suspicions by any means until mom sent me an article. She knows about how my crush on Trevor has had roots in our childhoods. 

Trev: you know what I’m talking about

After I stopped playing hockey with my brothers, I was still always around to notice Trevor’s presence in our home. When I moved to California for college, I wanted to chase my music dreams but I didn’t realize it would come at the expense of my support system. Being long distance with my family put me in a hard spot, but having a familiar face to rely on made the adjustment easier. As we spent more time together independent of my brothers, Trevor and I became close friends. The problem was my crush has been growing ever since we became friends, hence why mom sent me an article called, “Did Dixie D’Amelio admit to dating Trevor Zegras?”.

Me: at least say it with your chest

Sent. Delivered. I wait. Trevor’s response bubble appears for a second. It disappears, then reappears, then disappears again. I’m about ready to toss my phone across the room when his message delivers.

Trev: call me

I groan out in frustration and this time actually end up chucking my phone onto my bed. I run my hands through my hair, along the warm expanse of my scalp. A self-soothing gesture by all means. I pace to one side of my room before using the momentum of my steps to start back towards my phone. Just as I have it in my hand, Trevor’s contact picture covers the screen and illuminates in my grasp. I scoff out a sort of half groan and then answer.

“What, Trevor?”

“Hey, Y/n I’m great. Thanks for asking! How are you?” He responds sardonically to my cold greeting. I bite my tongue, torn between tearing into him and the stronger desire to laugh through my rage. He takes my exhale as a cue to continue. “What’s going on, Hughesy?”

In a single moment, my anger dissolves. The tenderness of that nickname, which was once reserved solely for my brothers, now belongs to me. In this moment, I find myself thinking about how grateful I am that Trevor was there for me as I transitioned into college. But the looming threat of a smile quickly vanishes as I remember how that care is nullified by Trevor’s abundantly active dating life.

“Y/nnnn?” Trevor hums into the phone.

“What?” I respond dryly.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is you cancelling on me for the third time in a row.”

“Is it really the third time in a row?” He asks under his breath, indicating he may not have intended to say it out loud at all. I roll my eyes, still actively fighting the urge to just lay into him.

“Yes, Trevor, it is!” I can practically hear him wince through the phone at the fact that I’m calling him Trevor instead of the default nickname permanently programmed into my phone. 

“Who’s that?” I hear softly over the phone. My heart flutters like a coal mine parakeet in a cage and I bite my lip, willing myself not to cry if it turns out Dixie is on the other side. Trevor whispers back,

“It’s Y/n.”

“Hey, Y/n!” Mason’s on the other end. 

“Not a good time,” Trevor tells him. Mason curses and then apologizes before retreating from Trevor’s general area. “Sorry, you were saying?” Trevor tells me at regular volume.

“You were cancelling on me again.”

“Oh. Right. I…” he switches the phone to the other ear, “I…don’t know what you want me to say.” Hello?! Could he be any more oblivious?!

“I want you to tell me what is going on!” I whine into the phone, “What is it you’re so busy with doing that you can’t see me for a week, huh? I get that you’re a professional athlete and you have a busy schedule. But I know your schedule and I know you still have a decent amount of free time. So what have you been doing?” Trevor breathes, in, then out and says,

“I’ve been seeing someone lately…” I feel my heart shatter into the tiniest fractals of what it once was and I cover my mouth to choke back the growing lump in my throat.

“I can’t do this right now,” I say with the utmost hurt lacing my voice, pulling the phone away from my ear to abruptly hang up on Trevor. I toss my phone on my bed once more, ignoring how the screen lights up with Trevor’s contact picture. It’s a new breed of psychological torture to sit here and ignore the calls, so I leave my phone in my bedroom as I go to splash cold water on my face. 

When I reenter my bedroom, I ignore the buzzing device to put on a comfortable pair of pajamas. He’s called once, twice, a fourth, and a fifth before finally giving up. Despite my phone being silent, I don’t trust it enough to take it with me and leave it to charge on my bed. I settle on the couch to open my new pint of Ben and Jerry’s, putting on my favorite show in the hopes of laughing through the pain. 

Somewhere between first and second episode, I had dozed off after returning the ice cream to the freezer. I’m not sure what it is about crying that knocks me on my ass like that, all I know is that it works. 

I’m abruptly pulled from my sleep when I hear the harsh banging on my front door. I jump up from the couch, the spike in adrenaline carrying me out of my sleepy haze. When I get to the front door, some of the tiredness catches up with me again and I groggily open the front door. Behind it stands Trevor, with sad puppy eyes and a sheepish expression. I can’t help the scowl that comes to rest on my face when I see him, but he doesn’t falter. Instead, he pushes past me to come into the apartment and sits on the couch expectantly. Since there’s no way to physically remove him from my space, I bargain, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch, as far from Trevor as I can manage. He doesn’t let the cold gesture phase him, and scooches obliviously into the center of the couch.

“What’s going on Hughsey?” I scoff at the nickname and Trevor cringes in frustration. “What is this?”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“Why are you icing me out all of a sudden?”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I ask, spiteful, with malice. 

“Clearly not since I’m here spending time with you.”

“Was that so hard for you to do? I mean, with your busy schedule and all?”

“What are you-” Trevor pauses for a split second. “Wait, are you… jealous? Y/n?”

I want to protest. I want to scream and rant and bite back, how he could be so conceited to think I’d be jealous of a relationship that I previously thought was rumored? But I can’t. 

Because he’s right.

I bite my tongue. There’s nothing else I can do. Not unless I want to make an even bigger fool of myself than I already have.

“Oh my god, that’s totally it. You’re jealous.” Trevor says, complete with a laugh and a sigh. The shame of actually being jealous of a girl I’ve never met, the disappointment of finding out Trevor is dating someone, and the exhaustion from already having cried earlier comes collapsing down on me at once. Hot tears well on the lining of my lashes and I stare at the ground, afraid to draw attention to myself. Upon seeing me cry, Trevor’s smile immediately vanishes and he scoots closer once more.

“Hey, shhh, it’s okay.” He envelops me in a hug that I’m too overwhelmed to reciprocate. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.” 

I merely shake my head, unaware of what I could even say in this moment.

“I was… I was just laughing ‘cause I should’ve known.”

“Should’ve known what?”

“That you’d be jealous.” I wriggle out of the hug and look at Trevor sincerely.

“How would you have known?”

“You know, for as long as I can remember, your brothers have talked about you having a crush on me.” I cower in humiliation, my face glowing hotter than the surface of the sun.

“I wish they wouldn’t have.”

“No?” Trevor asks, genuinely.

“It’s embarrassing,” I confess, fully recoiling from the physical contact he had initiated before. 

“It’s cute.” Trevor earnestly admits as he takes my hand in his. I scoff instinctively but don’t pull my hand away again.

“I don’t need your pity, Trev.” I say so softly he nearly misses the sentiment. Once he processes my worlds, I feel him physically relax next to me at the sound of his familiar nickname.

“Well, what do you need? I’m here now.”

“I honestly don’t know.” I finally dare to meet his eyes. He’s looking at me so sweetly, earnestly. As if I hadn’t just chewed him out two minutes earlier. Then, I look away before I can say what I’m about to say next. “I don’t just like you.” Trevor’s face lifts ever so slightly. The extent of which, one might miss had they not known him a lifetime the way I have.

 “You know… the only reason I started seeing her was to get over you.”

“What?” I ask, sharply whipping my head to stare at Trevor, as if awaiting the reveal that this was just some elaborate prank from the start.

“Yeah. I started dating Dixie because I thought dating someone different would distract me. You know, it’s not a good look to have a crush on your best friend’s little sister.”

My heartrate picks up with his confession. This feels too good to be true. As if real life is waiting for us right outside the front door. The real life that doesn’t see me and Trevor together ever in our lifetimes. Terrified of the change that would occur from letting him walk away, I reach up and hold his face in my hands, kissing him passionately. Trevor wraps his hand around my wrist and kisses me back with twice as much fervor. 

We break apart, out of breath and full of smiles. Trevor looks at me for guidance and we fizzle into a nervous laughter. I reach up and brush my thumb tenderly across his cheekbone. He grabs my hand and turns his head, placing a sweet kiss on my palm. I then reach up and break the moment by ruffling my hand through his hair to mess it up.

“Hey!” He yells, grabbing waist to dig his hands into my sides. I screech with laughter as I try to escape. Trevor eventually yields and slips his hands from my sides to interlace with one another and pull me closer. I scoot in to sit against him, sitting half on top of him as our breathing falls in sync.

“I don’t just like you, too, Hughesy.” I smile.

“...You should probably call Dixie.”

“Oh shit.”

***

A/N: not my best work but not my worst either!

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

XI. “lying through teeth”

parts: previous / next

plot: you have a tense visit with old friends that culminates in a hotheaded confession. Bruce Wayne decides his first official public appearance.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, sexuality

words: 2.6k

You woke up the next morning to brightly colored curtains and walls. You shot up in bed, startling a creature at your feet to jump up. It was Walter, and you were in your childhood bedroom. The sheets were from when you were a tween, some bright pink floral bedding that your dad had pulled out of the back of the closet. It smelled slightly musty, but Walter quickly fuzzied it up and made it feel like home. He crawled up to you with a yawn and stretch, and you pet his head as you gathered your surroundings. You weren't in someone else's bed. It wasn't dungeon-like. You heard your mom and dad talking out in the living room and heaved a sigh of relief.

Your phone on the bedside table vibrated, and you checked it. 1:38 in the afternoon. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and wandered out to the living room, your feet immediately rendering that they were back at home safe and sound. Your parents greeted you with delight as they had hands on the door—your mother had a new walker. She's not that old yet. God. I should have asked to see her scans yesterday. "We'll be gone until dinner, talking with the neighbors. I told Margaret about the anonymous donor and oh my, all the neighbors are gathering to celebrate!" With that she and your father bid you adieu, letting you know there were leftover pancakes from breakfast in the fridge.

Margaret. Mar. You took your phone out of your pocket and sent her a text. You hadn't told her you were leaving yet, but you weren't super close, and it had been on a whim... Hey, so sorry to let you know this over text but I left back to home yesterday. My mom's health is having some issues so I had to move quickly. How are you doing back there?

After eating some cold blueberry pancakes you slumped over in a dining room chair to think ahead to your mostly empty day. Walter wandered around behind you until he found his food bowl and went to town. If he followed his usual pattern he would curl up in his bed near the couch and go into a food coma for the next few hours. You smiled. What a cutie. You opened your phone again, this time to call your friend Lara. She answered on the very last ring. When you told her you were back in town, she responded sheepishly. "Uh, we thought you wouldn't be in town this early. We wanted to plan a homecoming party for you with your parents but we hadn't gotten around to it." 'We' referred to your friend group: Lara, Gabbi, and Rose. You didn't believe her when she said she was planning a party—you didn't even know if they were really your friends anymore. You'd tried to reach out so many times while you were in Gotham, but you'd only received enough responses to fit on one hand. All short, staccato, to the point. "Miss you!" and "Sounds good!" were the only type of responses your group of friends since high school had left for you since you'd left the city, though you started to wonder if they ever gave you things besides pleasantries at all.

You asked if the group wanted to go get coffee now, and after another hesitation she agreed. "Gab and Rose were just on their way to meet me to go to thrifting, but that can wait." It didn't sound like she wanted to wait, but nonetheless you planned to meet at 2:30. You showered, put on some clean clothes from your luggage, and grabbed your old bike to ride over. You had sold the car you'd gotten senior year of high school to pay for the flight to Gotham two years ago.

At 2:31 you pulled up to the local coffee shop. Sat on a patio table were Lara, Gabbi and Rose, all on their phones with drinks mostly empty when you pulled up. Had they been waiting here? Had they already been here? "Hi, sorry, we couldn't wait and already got our drinks." Lara smiled over her phone and gestured toward a grande chai latte sat across from her. "We got you a chai since you probably don't have a paycheck yet."

You held back a wince. Backhanded. You remembered another reason why you'd left which you'd tried hard to forget: your friends were... callous. They didn't have much of a filter, nor show much interest in anything outside of their own interests. Gabbi and Rose gave subtle waves when you sat down across from them, eyes still glued to their phones. Rose gasped and showed something to Gabbi, who gasped alongside her. "Ugh. That douche."

"How was your time in the big city?" Lara put her phone down while the other two chatted to look at you. At least Lara, however disinterested she could sound, tried to be an attentive friend. She'd had dreams of going to Harvard Law after you'd both binged Legally Blonde sophomore year of high school, but she'd missed the deadline senior year after a particularly bad bout of the flu. Now she worked a the local flower shop and somehow secured a local exchange student boyfriend, of which they were now three years strong. You put your chin in your elbows and sighed. "It's more dangerous than I thought. And also more boring. I think Gabbi and Rose would really like it there, it's more for partiers I think. I don't know, I never really found my place." You noticed Lara's eyes start to glaze over and shifted the subject. "But uh, I officially turned in my last paper for my degree! So as soon as they send in my certificate through the mail I'm done!" You forced a smile and Lara did the same. "Good for you." Her tone was sickly sweet and you once again hid a wince.

There was an awkward pause for a few moments until Lara cleared her throat and absently asked what your paper was on. Without thinking much of it, you responded. "I was going to do it on Bruce Wayne, but he stopped halfway through the interview."

Gabbi, Rose, and Lara all gasped in unison, and the former threw their phones onto the glass table. "OH MY GOD," Gabbi shrieked. "You've met Bruce Wayne?" By the way their faces lit up it was as if an A-list celebrity had entered the room.

"Did you hook up with him?"

You frowned. "I, I didn't need to sleep with him to get the interview,"

Gabbi, who had asked the question, furiously shook her head. "No," she said with an eye roll. "Because he's a billionaire?" They all stared at you with big, bright eyes. You had their full attention for the first time in your entire friendship. It hurt you, but you tried to hide it and quickly change the subject. "No, I'd never,"

Rose interrupted with a laugh. "No way, I'd do him in a second. Did you see the photos of him shopping today in Gotham? He looks ripped." The three women laughed to themselves and started loudly talking about their fantasies. "I think he likes cowgirl, how could he not? I don't think I could do doggy, he's just too fucking hot. I'd want him to remember my face too, no way."

"He's got to be a dom. He's not letting anyone on top of him."

"He's too jacked to just do missionary. He probably has some crazy sex dungeon."

"Ooh a REAL LIFE CHRISTIAN GREY! Holy fuck Lara I never thought about that!"

Why couldn't they see the flames shooting out of your ears? "He's not even hot, guys," You rolled your eyes and sat back with your arms crossed. "I don't understand the hype. He's... no."

"Come the fuck on, Y/N, he's the hottest celeb right now." Rose was rolling her eyes at you now, while Gabbi glared at you. "What's your problem?"

You threw your hands in the air, exasperated. Your voice rose as the tension in your body became unbearable. He's not hot. He's not cool. He's just Bruce fucking Wayne. He would be no one if it weren't for his fucking mountain of money. "You all couldn't care less about my life. About me, about my school." Hands slammed on the table as you shoved your chair back. They jumped, gasping. "Y/N!" They chastised. It didn't matter, the words were already pouring out of your mouth as unconsciously as vomit. "The first time you all really look at me, pay me any fucking attention, is when you think I might have fucked Bruce Wayne. I'm done."

"Fuck off, everything just has to be about you." Rose snarled. You were already on the way to your bike but spun around at the sound of them getting back to their phones, more furiously now. Nothing with them had ever been anything but themselves. They'd never paid you mind. They kept you in tow because you were too nice. Someone who could always be a shoulder to cry on. Someone to run errands with. Someone to rant to about the other friends in the group.

"You know what?" Fists balled at your sides. Your face was twitching at their audacity, at all the adrenaline shoving through you, making you a live wire. "I did fuck Bruce Wayne. And fuck you."

The flash of cameras haunted him as he slammed the door behind him. Alfred had stared at him peculiarly when he walked in, noticing the Dior and Prada bags in his fists. He wanted to press Bruce on what he planned to do with the clothing (the boy never went out unless he was forced to) but decided to wait and watch it all unfold. Unfold it had; as Alfred sought a snack in the kitchen later that evening, Bruce had walked out in a sharp Prada double-breasted suit, adjusting his cufflinks and shaking out his arms before standing in the entryway. "What do you think? Is this a good Bruce Wayne?"

The question struck Alfred, and he hadn't answered for a good few seconds. Why was he acting like Bruce was a character? He went towards that curiosity. "You look like yourself in a suit." To which Bruce responded with a short huff and looked at the ground. "I just, I need more separation from Batman. I don't want anyone able to suspect me." His answer made well the confused storm raging in Alfred's brain. No one had ever recognized Bruce before so he'd never had to grapple with that possibility. Along came someone who had, and now he was outfitted in silhouettes he'd only hoped Bruce would grow into. Tears sprung to his eyes; he could tell the boy noticed, but all Alfred did was nod. He imagined Martha seeing her boy all grown up now, looking sharp and mature. "Makes sense, right then."

Bruce holed up in the basement scribbling into his journal. Got designer clothing today. Hated it. Needed to. Creating more separation from myself and Batman. Another close call would lead to some difficult decisions I don't want to make. I still have work to do here, and I don't want to go into hiding earlier than planned. Suddenly fear and anxiety gripped him. Maybe this could just be a one-off. Bruce Wayne hardly seen again, per usual. He could have just gotten the suits to update his sizing, maybe his butler didn't get his sizing right and he had to do it himself. So he had something to wear to the city hall meetings. No, he couldn't do Alfred like that. He'd just wear it to the next meeting. Change around the Batman suit, make it a full face covering: no lips, eyes behind colored mesh. He could sneak platform wedges into the boots somehow to make him considerably taller, to further throw people off his trail. His eyes heavied with sleep from the weight of the exposure today, but he still needed to go out as Batman.

Before he could, however, he needed to empty the earbuds and contacts he'd worn to shop. They were filled with recordings from earlier, something he'd done in case he needed to look back at anything later. You never knew when crime would strike in Gotham, and sometimes he only had a few seconds to make an ID. He plugged them into their chargers where they immediately began streaming data to his screen. He skimmed through it mindlessly for a minute, hearing nothing besides screaming paparazzi and the clicking of cameras. A clustering of voices from a throng of onlookers he'd passed through, desperately asking for a photo, an autograph, a million dollars. He'd strolled quickly past, paying them little mind beside passing greetings... and a mumble. Rewind.

Mumble.

Rewind.

"Might be a new member in the club."

He could barely make out the gruff, low vocals. The club? Then an even softer, quieter response. Unreachable.

Rewind. Vocal increase. Isolate. Max volume.

"Think we can trust him?"

After that point you had entered the store and were no longer in reach. Which club? Had you heard those voices before, or was this new? The last thing you heard before getting out of reach, disappointingly, was the first man scoffing. "The prince of the city? He's more of a fed than the cops."

Bruce immediately went to his contacts to replay the footage. He roughly matched the timing of the words to men barely in his periphery—but nothing close to making an ID. If it hadn't been for the damn cameras... he could have been more vigilant. Being in public exhausted him more than any single night shift. He started scribbling more musings. No trust with public. Become less of an enigma. A partier? A Yachter? Own room at the clubs? Separation and infiltration. Talk of a club. He reviewed the footage again with neurotic focus.

As far as was possible to tell from the fish eye footage, they were suited. The only type of people who wore suits in downtown Gotham were rich. The type of people who couldn't be touched; the business district was up north, far enough away to not get mugged by partygoers the moment something valuable was visible. They had to be people that couldn't be messed with. The type of people who receive a bad look one day and have your head the next. The clubs. The dinners. These people weren't a part of the mainstream party scene; they were in the club within the club, Penguin types. Bruce groaned and tossed his pencil across the table. He didn't want to do this, and after today he realized he'd have to sacrifice more of Batman than he thought if he would have the energy to get through the day as Bruce Wayne.

He pulled up the Gotham event page and marked down every listed event to his calendar. How was he going to explain his sudden personality shift and movement into the public arena? Questions swirled and dizzied his mind. He could only do so much in his cape; now he had to create another mask. And his first big event would be Gotham University's graduation ceremony.

[idontplaytrack]

Can I request an Amber Appleton x reader fic where reader ends up in the hospital somehow? amber rushes to the hospital after she finds out and is super worried/anxious because she’s already lost 2 of the people she loved the most in the world and she can’t lose another. angst with comfort at the end please.

Ain’t no sunshine

Amber Appleton x fem! reader

Warnings: mentions to a shooting, on the job injury, crying, stress, anxiety, hospitalisation & hospital settings

This day started out like any other. You woke up next to Amber, had a nice breakfast together then you both went your separate ways to go to work. But as with your job, every day was unpredictable. You’d run into all sorts of criminals and crimes, some days were easier without a doubt. But today was not your lucky day. You were in the area of an active shooting with your partner while out investigating and had to be at the location to help. Because of that, you’d missed your lunch and also failed to respond to Amber’s texts. Eventually, once you and your partner were out of the situation, you realised Amber’s also called— though that was many hours later.

You hear a knock on the other side of the hospital room door and you jump, startled. “It’s me, y/l/n.” Your partner walked in with a small teddy bear from the gift shop downstairs and a balloon tied to its arm.

“Banks.” You chuckled at the gift, “Thanks, for that.”

“It’s crap. I just wanted to get you something but choices are limited.” He says, “How’s uh, your butt?”

“It’s fine, but a literal pain in the ass.”

“Hey. I’m thankful you were only shot in the ass and not elsewhere more vital.”

And then, your phone went dead. It’s been a long day. It’s already past 5pm— you were supposed to be leaving work right now and on your way home.

You sigh, “Desk duty is going to be so amazing.” You remarked sarcastically.

“I’d trade you if I could.” Banks scoffs, “But of course, Bowman or anyone else would never let it slide.”

Banks stayed with you until you were cleared to go home. Even then, he said he’d sent you home. “Why have you not talked to Amber yet?”

“Phone died.” You answered, “Also it’s just been a heck of a day, so I can’t really…I mean, it just didn’t cross my mind. I’m still trying to process the fact that we were in a situation like that— I —”

“I’m sure they just called her.”

“What?” Your eyes went wide, “Why couldn’t you have just led with that?”

“I was more concerned about you. Hello? You got shot. Besides, I was going to call her but the nurses out there beat me to it.”

You had pulled the curtain close and changed back into your own clothes. Then, you opened the curtain back up.

“Mom? Oh, shit.” You expected Amber, but it was your Mom you saw first, entering the room right as you looked up.

“How’d you get here so fast?”

“I live near where you were.” She squints, “Also, Peralta’s son saw you getting into the ambulance. They called.”

You sigh, staying standing because you clearly felt uncomfortable sitting down.

“Does Amber know yet?”

“I couldn’t call her. My phone died, but given the obvious, it didn’t cross my mind. My mind is still racing, if it’s any worse they would’ve given me a damn sedative.”

“Oh, my God.” A distinct voice was heard right as the door burst open. “You’re okay, thank goodness.” Amber ran up to you and hugged you so tightly. She’d been crying.

“Don’t cry, I’m fine, baby.”

“You got shot.” She sniffed.

“Yeah, did they tell you it was in the butt? It was a nick. I’m all good to go home.” You broke away from the hug and dried her tears.

“You’re obviously shaken up.” Banks chimed in.

“Shut up.” You seethed. “Can we go home?” You looked between Amber and your Mom.

“Did you guys come here together?” Banks asked.

“No.” Your mom answered before Amber could. “I’m driving you two home though, let’s go. I signed the papers on my way in. You have the all clear.”

“Didn’t know Rosa Diaz was your mom.” Banks remarked.

“Why does that matter?” You squinted at him, “Ugh, not today, Banks. I’m tired. See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah—” His phone buzzed right as you were about to leave, “Wait. Bowman said you’re not going into work tomorrow.”

“Tsk, fine.” You huffed, leaving in silence with Amber and your mom.

You laid down on the back, head in Amber’s lap as she held onto your hand. She brought your hand to her lips and gave it a kiss, “You’re okay.”

“I’m okay.” You nodded, more so repeating that to yourself so you could believe it. You couldn’t actually believe it yet, and you hadn’t even processed the fact that you had a weapon pointed right at you, and if you didn’t dodge any quicker, you wouldn’t have been going home. You wouldn’t be here laying next to Amber, you wouldn’t be seeing her or your Mom ever again.

You got a glimpse of your Mom’s worried gaze in the rearview mirror and you just burst into tears. “You’re safe now, corazón.” Your Mom spoke up, Amber just rubbed your back. “They caught him.”

“I know.” You choked on a sob. Much like your mother, you hated showing your emotions. So this freaked them out as much as it did worry them.

Thanks to pain medications, you were pretty comfortable while the wound healed. Though very much unhappy about desk duty until cleared by a mental health professional to get back on the field.

After what happened, Amber wanted you to quit your job. And honestly, you were almost readily agreeing to it. But watching the rest of your squad doing what they do day in and out while you were stuck to your desk indefinitely ignited a newfound sense of eagerness in you after a few weeks. Your job gave you a great sense of purpose. Not so much the paperwork part of it, but being out on the field and protecting the people, keeping the city safer. Amber knew that, but she was just scared of losing you too. You knew your wife’s already lost two people closest to her, and you wished you could promise her it wouldn’t happen again, but it wasn’t even a risk of just the job but where you all resided. Things like this were seen here, and you were fortunate to have never ran into it before until you had. You sure were hoping it wouldn’t happen again, but who knows? Until then, you knew to do your job because it helps. Not to mention that it pays the bills and put food on the table. Where else were you going to work after dedicating a good part of your life working towards this job? One that you were proud of? One that gave you your found family? One that made you feel closer to your Mom.

“I can’t promise you that it won’t ever happen again, I can’t and won’t lie to you. Life is not always going to be easy and good. And I’m hoping things will change with regards to that thing, but—” You shrugged, “We can’t predict what the future will look like.”

“You…are my hero.” Amber’s lips tug into a smile, “Your job is important, and it's hard but you’re so freaking good at it and so passionate about it.”

You chuckled, teary eyed.

“I am so proud of you. Every single day.”

“I’m proud of you, I’m proud of the life we’ve made together. I’m proud of us.”

🏷️Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartandstuff @pda128

[happy-and-alone]

just something random i came up with because i have writer's block so anything is good right now

Word Count: idk TW: mentions of car crash

Feel free to pretend like these are two characters you feel would fit the story. I left it to just pronouns for that reason.

1 hour. It took him 1 hour to realize she wasn't coming.

As he walked out to the parking lot, tears dancing in the corners of his eyes, it began to storm. The storm was heavy, the thunder loud enough to shake the ground and the lightning bright enough to blind a man. It matched his new mood quite well.

He got into his car, slamming the door as he puts the keys into the ignition and cranks his music up all the way. He flies down the highway as if it's his only option.

He truly believed she was coming. She promised she was coming.

The screen of his phone lights up, indicating a text. He glances down to see who sent it. Her. Rage clouds his vision, and anger takes over his mind. He is seeing red as he goes even faster down the highway, faster than he thought he could. He can't see. The world turns to smoke and ash as he drives. And then...nothing.

The car just...stops.

~*~

She is late. In her defense, she was going to get him something for their date and her car wouldn't start. It's a shit car, she'll admit that, but it's never had problems starting before. It took 30 minutes for the mechanic to finally show up, and another 30 minutes for him to fix it. Right before she leaves, completely neglecting the idea of a gift at this point, she texts him letting him know she'll be late, apologizing.

Sorry! Car wouldn't start and mechanic took forever to get here. I'll be there in 10😘

~*~

He crashed. The roads were slick and he was going 110 on a highway. What did you expect? She doesn't know this though. She is blissfully unaware, continuing the drive to the restaurant. Upon her arrival, she is informed that he left. She sends another text.

Hey. Did something happen? Sorry I'm late. Are you okay? Where are you?

Concern floods her emotions, as he lay motionless in a bed, surrounded by doctors and nurses. She doesn't know, and never will know. Because while she could have taken the highway home and seen his car on the way back, she doesn't. Instead, she takes a more rural road and makes it home safe.

Tears stain her pillow at the thought of him standing her up. He's not the person that would ditch with no explanation. She knows him well enough to know that he wouldn't do that.

~*~

Life goes on. She carries on, years later, forgetting the event ever happened. She's married, and has a new puppy, all in a beautiful house in a beautiful town.

He is gone. Not dead, but not here either. No, he is elsewhere, also forgetting about the event from years ago.

Until he finally gets a new phone. It's been three years and he's been fine without one, but his new job requires him to have one. He makes his way down to the store, and settles on a nice, reasonably priced phone.

"Would you like to keep the same number, or do you want a new one?" the cashier asks.

"The old one is fine," he responds. "I don't remember my mom's phone number anyway.''

The cashier sets it all up and laughs to herself.

"What's so funny?"

She stiffens slightly, but her smile doesn't falter. "Oh nothing," she replies. "Just that someone must be real interested in you. You've got a lot of missed messages from just one person."

She hands him the phone, and he walks out of the store and down the street. When he opens the phone to check messages the cashier mentioned, he freezes, nearly dropping the new phone. He can't believe this is even real.

Sorry! Car wouldn't start and mechanic took forever to get here. I'll be there in 10😘

END

*IF YOU REBLOG/REPOST PLEASE CREDIT ME*

[loverboybitch]

tldr:.//.

[sinner-as-saint]

Come Home.

Mob!Bucky x Reader AU

Run-through: Bucky comes home to find you and your son asleep in your bed and his heart damn near explodes with how much he loves his family. And after putting your baby to sleep, Bucky proceeds to show you just how grateful he is to have you and how much he loves you... 

Themes: fluff, soft smut

WARNING: FLUFF

a/n: just a quick dose of fluff because we all need some, ily! 

Bucky checked his phone the moment he slid into the backseat of his car. Without a word said, his driver knew that he would be going home. 

Bucky smiled at the text you just sent him, attached to which was a picture of you and your son cuddling on your bed with big smiles on both your faces. The text read: ‘Showered, PJs on and we’re ready for cuddles! Come home quick, we love you!’

Just the thought of returning home to his little family which he adored so much made all his fatigue fade away. He couldn’t imagine life without the two of you in it, he would die and kill for you without hesitation. 

Half an hour later he was home. He made sure to have a quick word with his guards outside - as always thanking them for ensuring the safety of his family when he’s not around during the day. He walked inside and locked the door and rushed upstairs, excited to see you and his son, already taking off his suit jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. He walked into your bedroom and he immediately melted at the sight on your bed. 

Both you and your son, in matching PJs, fell asleep while waiting on him. You were sprawled carelessly on the soft mattress and your son fell asleep on top of you, holding on to your hip. Bucky let out a soft chuckle as he carefully stepped closer to you two, noticing the bedtime story books amidst the books you were currently reading, as well as the bar of chocolate on the bedside which you and your son probably shared - things your son inherited from you; the love for books and stories, and a sweet tooth. 

Bucky leaned over, kissing you both carefully on the forehead. He always found it adorable how both you and your son slept similarly; lips slightly parted, snoring softly. He decided not to disturb you two any further so he slipped into the bathroom as quietly as possible. 

Once he stepped out of the shower, he had to force himself to disturb your baby boy slightly because he needed to be put in his own bed so he could sleep more comfortably. But also, Bucky desperately needed some time alone with you. 

He placed one knee gently on the bed, bending a little and slipping his hands under the little sleeping frame of your son so as to pick him up as gently as possible. “Come on bud, we gotta put you in your own bed.” He whispered, mainly to himself as he detached the 3-year-old toddler from your hip. “Such a momma’s boy,” Bucky muttered under his breath when he realized that your son was putting up a gentle fight even in his sleep as his father tried to get him off of your leg. 

As soon as he felt the loss of contact from your body heat, your son whimpered quietly in his father’s arms, still asleep as he made an attempt to reach out for you again with his little arms. Bucky smiled. “I know, I know.” He shushed your son as best he could, rocking him gently and praying to God he doesn’t wake up. 

“I’m just as obsessed with your mom as you are. I hate being away from her too.” He whispered to your son as he slowly walked out of your bedroom and crossed the hallway to get to the little man’s room. “But hey, you hang out with her all day. Now it’s my turn.” He whispered, placing your son down on the smaller, equally as comfy bed. 

He positioned the pillows just how he liked it and tucked your baby in bed, kissing his forehead. “Good night little man, daddy loves you.” He turned the soft night light on before leaving the room, closing the door just halfway.  

Bucky was almost giddy as he slid into bed behind you. He pulled the covers over both of you before pulling you closer and spooning you from behind. You stirred gently, recognizing his touch instantly as his bare chest pressed against your back. He wrapped his strong arm around you, pulling you into him even more and kissed along your exposed neck. 

You woke up giggling as he nibbled on your skin. You kept your eyes closed and just relished his touch. “Hi handsome.” You whispered. Bucky responded with a soft moan, kissing and licking along your throat. You immediately reached out to feel the spot beside you, where you remember your son had fallen asleep earlier. “Where’s-,”

Bucky replied before you even finished your sentence. “Already put him to bed. I found him holding on to your leg like a little koala bear when I came in.” 

You let out a chuckle. “God, I love him. I love him so much it hurts.” 

Bucky hummed, agreeing before he bit down on your shoulder. “Spare some love for me. I helped make him.” He spoke of his son fondly as always, yet you noticed the ever-present, playful jealousy in his tone. 

You giggled, “Oh of course. You’re part of the reason why he’s here. Thank you for that.” You turned in his arms to face your husband. You reached up and caressed his cheek softly. “Thank you.” You whispered again. 

Bucky smiled, which quickly morphed into a smirk. “I can think of so many ways in which you can thank me.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours before you could say anything. He felt you smile into the kiss as he deepened it, slipping his tongue into your mouth; licking and earning soft moans out of you. 

He wrapped his arms tighter around your warm body as he gently pushed you onto your back and climbed on top of you, not breaking the kiss yet. He hissed in pleasure when you playfully bit his lip, filling his mind with filth. He pulled away gently, looking down at you with his piercing blue eyes. “I’ve missed you all day.” 

You noticed the way he discreetly rolled his hips against you, rubbing his erection against your clothed core. Even through the layers of clothing you could feel his hunger; thick, large, hard. You were certain that by now your stare must be just as filled with lust and love as his was. 

“Show me how much.” You whispered, lips already parted as you awaited his kiss. 

Unable to resist, he leaned down for a brief, deep kiss before pulling away to stare at you again. “Where do you want me, baby?” His voice was deeper, words dripping with desire as his body heat wrapped around you. He was needy, rubbing his erection more and more in between your legs as if pleading you to let him pleasure you. 

You groaned, loving his gentle teasing. “I don’t mind, I just want you.” 

He chuckled, your words stroking his ego. “I love you.” He mumbled, lowering his mouth to yours again; kissing your lips before moving slowly down your body, his lips kissing down your body as his fingers slowly unbuttoned your top. He stopped and stared at your chest shamelessly once your top was off. He straddled you and reached up to cup both your breasts in his large hands and fondled with them before looking up at you. “Did they get bigger? I feel like they did.” 

That earned a loud chuckle out of you. “Perv.” You mumbled while sliding your fingers into his thick, soft hair which he had also passed on to your son. 

Bucky smirked before leaning in to kiss down the valley of your cleavage, still toying with your breasts while occasionally rolling and pinching your nipples, making you arch your back off the bed. He pulled away after a while, and kept kissing down your body until he knelt in between your legs. 

He gently lowered your shorts down your legs; getting rid of them and kissed your inner thighs once you were completely naked under him. No matter how many times he had seen you naked, your body, your warmth - it always excited him just the same as the first time.

“You’re so beautiful.” He mumbled and brushed his soft lips along your inner thighs, making you giggle and moan quietly under your breath. 

You opened your eyes to look down at him with nothing but love, and desire in your stare. There was a time in your life when you questioned whether or not one day someone would be capable of loving you with all their heart, despite your flaws and imperfections. You wondered if you’d ever be one of the lucky ones whose partners looked at them with pure love, devotion and affection. That question was answered now because Bucky always looked at you like you hung the moon itself. 

It didn’t have to be said, he knew what you were thinking. He always knew. He placed both his hands on either one of your knees and separated your legs, settling in between them like he belonged there and inched his face closer to your already dripping core. 

You could feel his warm breath hit your wet skin as he brought his mouth closer to your wet lips. He held your stare as he peppered kisses around your glistening core. You moaned quietly when you felt his warm tongue lick from your entrance up to your throbbing clit. You felt your heart flutter as a familiar warmth washed over you. 

Your hand immediately flew to his slightly damp hair, and you grabbed a fistful of it, tugging on it gently as his mouth teased you. His tongue slowly circled around your clit, earning another moan out of you. 

He didn’t hold back, he ate you out eagerly; satiating both your hunger. Bucky looked up at you again at the same time as you looked down, and you saw the pure hunger in his eyes. And he saw the need in yours. So he gave you his all. He had you squirming, moaning - a complete mess under him in no time.

Your eyes rolled back and your legs trembled as you felt his tongue fucking you gently. He locked his arms around your thighs and pushed your core further into his mouth, making you cry out of pleasure. He couldn’t get enough of you; your taste, your warmth, the way you moaned, the fact that he knew no one else would ever make you feel this way ever again. It drove him wild. 

With a couple more strokes of his tongue, he had you coming undone; gushing out all over his tongue as he lapped up whatever you gave him; making you gasp and moan. The wet sounds erupting whenever his mouth sucked on your sensitive clit were downright filthy and it only made you want more of him. 

You felt him kissing his way up your body; leaving warm, wet kisses all over your skin, until he reached your mouth again. His kiss was gentle. When he pulled away, you finally opened your eyes to stare into his deep blue eyes. 

His stare was feral, he was hungry. “I need you.” He was in a bit of a daze as he thought of the last time he had you - yesterday morning - and that felt like ages ago. 

You reached up and touched his cheek gently. “I’m all yours, Buck.” You reminded him. 

That was enough. You were his, and he loved you more and more each day. And he showed you just that. He leaned in for a kiss again. He kissed your skin; from your mouth to your neck as he lowered his sweatpants and carefully slid into you. Your walls welcomed him perfectly and he moaned under his breath as he filled you up entirely, inch by inch. Your warmth wrapped around him, gripping him and reminding him that he was yours. He would always belong to you because no one else would ever make him feel this way. 

You whined in pleasure and your back arched off the bed just as you felt his thick cock filling you up; snug inside you. He felt familiar, yet just as intoxicating each time. He laced your fingers together and pinned both your entwined hands above your head as he sped up into you. You frowned in pleasure and threw your head back as he started rocking in and out of you. He leaned in and kissed your lips again, groaning and panting against your lips as he fucked you slowly.

The air around you got warmer again, his movements were gentle, and passionate and loving. His hips rolled against your body perfectly, and his body weight pressing down gently on you was comforting and intimate. His grip around your hand tightened each time you’d mumble his name under your breath. 

“You’re all mine.” He whispered against your lips, and leaned in to kiss you deeply while he deliberately stroked his cock against your walls as slowly as he could just to make you whine and whimper even more under him. “Look at me,” he growled quietly under his breath. 

You immediately opened your eyes and stared into his. His stare was intense, but loving as always. His lips were full and swollen as he looked down at you like you were as important as the air he breathed. You felt his cock hit all the right spots each time he moved against you, and his lips parted and he groaned the moment your walls started clenching around him. 

He moaned at how tight you felt around his throbbing cock, and leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Come for me, baby...” He whispered, voice strained and gravelly; which sent chills down your body. 

His voice was enough to take you right to the edge. You felt the pressure and the familiar, sweet pain in between your legs; making you gasp for air and your walls clench violently around him. “Come with me…” You moaned, wantonly. 

His hands reached down and grabbed your sides gently, keeping you in place as he sped up into you; his cock slipping in and out of you with ease. Your bodies moved perfectly against each other. He held you as close to him as he could, pushing his face into you and nuzzling your neck as he fucked you relentlessly. 

With a few more strokes of his cock, you came undone; gushing out all around him. You came around his cock with a loud moan; grinding against him hungrily while he moaned against your lips as he came right after you.

You were both gasping for air; hearts racing and holding onto each other as you came down from your high together. Bucky was careful not to crush you under him and moved to lay beside you for a moment, catching his breath before he pulled you into him again, spooning you from behind like he had earlier. 

You pulled the covers back up on top of your warm bodies and you closed your eyes, basking in his warmth. 

He leaned over to kiss your cheek again and playfully nipped at your earlobe, you pulled away giggling again. 

“I love you, baby.” He murmured into your ear. He would never get tired of saying it because he meant it, with all his heart and he knew that you knew. 

“I love you more.” You sighed, thankful for him. “Now,” you spoke as you turned around in his arms, facing him yet again, “Tell me about your day…”

[cevansbrat0007]

Let Go

Summary: Andy reminds you that you’re his baby too. Read the follow-up fic: Indulge Me. Andy Barber x Black!Reader

*Warnings: Weepy New Mom, Daddy Kink, Slightly Bratty Reader, Cursing, Spanking, Punishments (mentioned), Fluff, Minors DNI

A/N: My first attempt at a drabble from back when I was new to Tumblr. Part of my Growing Pains Series. Please let me know what you think. Not super proofread. All mistakes are my own.

Let Go

“I know it’s gonna be hard”, Andy’s mom murmurs as she holds your little girl to her chest. “But you both need this. BiBi is in good hands. So just relax and we’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Having a baby was never something you planned on, at least, not until you’d met Andy. He never planned on having another baby either, not that you could blame him. And you’d been good with that. 

But now here you were. 

You lean in to press a kiss to the top of your beautiful 9-month-old’s head. “I’m sorry.” You whisper. “Please know it’s nothing against you…”

Your mother-in-law nods understandingly. She’s so sweet. Bless her.

So you two had spent the first couple of years just enjoying each other. You’d wanted him from the moment you’d laid eyes on him, and the same had been true for him. 

In fact, if you’d let him tell it, he saw you first. You just happened to make the first move before he could. But he loves to tell everyone that he saw you first. And then he follows it up with how he just knew you were the one for him. 

That fateful day had been over two years ago. And you’d never looked back. Now you were parents. Your first time, his second. But you didn’t want to venture into that territory. 

This was the first time that your sweet little baby girl had ever been away from you for more than an hour or two. The idea of her being gone overnight was almost too much. Sure, yes, of course, you wanted to reconnect with your husband, but you needed your baby. 

Would she sleep okay? Had you sent her off with enough milk? Oh God, had you even packed the formula just in case? Did she have her blankie? Fuck, you wanted to cry. 

Just as you were ready to get in the car to chase after your mother-in-law, you receive a text from your husband that reads: “Stop. Bianca is fine. You’re fine. Now go relax. I’ll be home soon.” 

A tear makes its way down your cheek and you quickly wipe it away. Your husband knew you so well. Stupid man. It wasn’t fair. You wanted your baby, damn it. Instead of responding, you opt to silence your phone.  

You stomp upstairs to your room, making a point of ignoring your baby’s empty nursery. You whip off your clothes and change into a swimsuit. Initially purchased on a whim, you had never intended to actually wear it. You still weren’t all that happy with your post-baby body, although Andy didn’t seem to mind. That man was always finding an excuse to touch you.

In the mood to sulk, you head back downstairs to fix yourself a Mai Tai , and then sashay your now bikini-clad self out to the pool for a little R&R. 

You take a quick sip of your drink before wading into the shallow end of the pool and shakily climbing onto a waiting inflatable raft. If Andy wanted you to relax, you would relax. 

The hot, sunny weather is perfect for dozing, which you do, as you float lazily around the pool. 

You’re not sure how much time has passed, but the sound of someone clearing their throat suddenly has you wide awake. You open your eyes only to come face to face with your husband. 

Arms crossed over his broad chest, Andy stares you down. A slight smirk graces his lips. “Hey, Mama.”

“Hey, Daddy.” You can’t help but giggle back.  

“What’s my baby doing?” You roll your eyes at that. How the heck would you know? Your baby wasn’t freaking here.

“Dunno. She’s not here. Obviously.” His eyes flare at your tone. 

“You wanna try that again?”

“Nope.”

Andy lets out a low whistle. “Okay then.” He walks around the side of the pool to crouch down beside you. “You know, I wasn’t exactly talking about Bianca.” That surprises you. You open your mouth to respond, but he shakes his head. 

“You know what I see?” He pins you with his steely gaze. “I see my baby breaking a very important rule. And you know how Daddy feels about rules, don’t you?” Throat suddenly dry, you nod. “And what rule are you breaking right now?” 

“Umm…I’m in the pool.” You were starting to regret your earlier sass. 

“And why would Daddy be mad about you being in the pool?” You frown up at him, not wanting to continue. “Go on…” He motions for you to continue. 

You take a deep breath. “Because I’m not supposed to be in the pool alone.” 

“Mmhm.” Andy nods. “And remind me, sweet girl. Why is that?” 

Uh oh. “Because I’m not that good of a swimmer.” 

“Ahh, there it is.” He boops your nose, which honestly is more intimidating than it sounds. “Get out. Now.” He offers you his hand, which you ignore. Instead, you choose to awkwardly paddle yourself back to the shallow end of the pool. And you make a point of taking your time. 

“Hurry up, sweetness.” You feel your face scrunch at that. Your husband could go to hell for all you cared. Him and his damned rules. You reach the stairs, still taking your time. But at least he’s kind enough to hand you a towel. 

“Gotta say, baby.” You can feel him giving you a once-over. “You look sexy as fuck. Is this new?” You yelp lightly when one of his large hands reaches down to roughly palm your ass. “Let’s get you in the house, hmm?”

Allowing Andy to lead you inside, he presses a quick kiss to your temple when you reach the living room. And then he sits down before taking both of your hands in his. 

“You know, baby. I had a very special night planned for the two of us.”

Your eyes drop to your toes.

“But this little girl I know just had to go and break the rules. Do you get why I’m upset?” You feel your head bob. “Good. You know what to do.” 

Releasing your hands, Andy leans back and pats his lap. For a brief second you consider putting up a fight, but then you think better of it.

With a soft sigh, you lower yourself over Andy’s knee. You hadn’t been in this position in a long time. 

You whimper gently when Andy strokes a hand through your hair. God, your man had magic hands. 

“That’s my good girl.” He coos, his hand resting on your ass. “You know we can still have our special night. We just gotta get this little punishment out of the way. What do you think?”

Placing your hands on the floor, you bury your face in his leg. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Very good. Now tell me again…why are you being punished?” His hand continues to lovingly caress your bottom, occasionally taking the time to give it a squeeze. He loves to watch it jiggle. 

“I–” You take a breath. “I’m being spanked because I went swimming alone. And I’m not supposed to do that when you’re not here because I really can’t swim that well and I could hurt myself.”

“That’s right. Keep going.”

“Umm…” You rack your brain for more. “I put my phone on silent, which I know you don’t like.”

“Mmhm.” He responds. It’s becoming increasingly hard for you to form a coherent thought when he keeps touching you like that. “And what else?”

“I was a bitch to you when you came home. Which I am actually really sorry about. I just miss our baby and I’m not used to being without her.” You try to keep the tears at bay.

“Hey…hey…hey.” Andy reaches down to lift your chin, forcing you to look him in  the eyes. “You’re not a bitch. I knew tonight would be hard for you. But I wanted to give you something special - to take care of you. The same way you’ve taken care of me and our daughter all this time. You got that?”

No longer ashamed, you let the tears fall.

“This is just part of Daddy taking care of his baby. We both know you need this. Don’t you? Talk to me.”

“Yes, Daddy. It’s just been so long…”

“I know, I know.” His hand moves from your ass to the small of your back, gently rubbing in slow, soothing circles. “It’s okay. Daddy’s got you, sweetheart. I just need you to let go.”

“I can do that. I can do that for you.” You could let go for him. Not just because he was your husband, but because you trusted him. With everything. 

“I’m so proud of you, sweet girl.” His hand once again settles on the swell of your ass. “Can’t wait to taste this pussy. Been dreaming about it all day...” He trails off, which is a signal to you that your punishment is about to start.

“Count ‘em for me.” Andy grunts right before the first slap falls, making you yip. 

“One!” You manage to eek out through clenched teeth. “Oh, God, Daddy, Two!”

“That’s it, baby. You keep being nice and loud for Daddy and he’ll take care of the rest.”

END 

[art3mixx]

𝒫𝑒𝓇𝒻𝑒𝒸𝓉 𝐼𝓂𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒻𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

character(s) - bokuto x kuroo x gn!reader

cw - gn!reader, poly, food, bad pet names, kissing, mental health (not super explicit??), soft

authors note - ayy the first thing i’ve written in literal months!! i’ve had this idea for a while and i hope you guys like it. i wrote this with a gender neutral reader in mind but if i fucked up somewhere let me know and i will fix it!!

word count - 853

When Bokuto woke up, he knew it was gonna be a bad day.

His head hurt and he still felt tired even after sleeping 8 hours, and he couldn’t make himself even get out of bed.

Hidden in the darkness of his room, he went back to sleep.

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

You were immediately concerned when during your first class, Koutarou’s seat remained empty. Your older boyfriend almost never missed school, even when he was sick. 

You almost smiled thinking about all the times you and Tetsurou had to force Koutarou to rest.

But the fond memory didn’t banish your worry.

You sent a quick text to Koutarou asking where he was before you had to put your phone away for class.

During lunch, you sat down in your normal spot with the volleyball team, immediately asking Akaashi, “Do you know where Bokuto is?”

Akaashi looked up from his food at you. “Hello to you too, Y/n.”

“I’m sorry. Hello, Keiji. Do you know where Bokuto is?”

He took another bite of his food. “No I do not. He wasn’t at morning practice today.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach. Koutarou almost never skipped practice unless he was really sick. You nodded, “Thank you,” and sat down to eat your lunch.

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

The school day was over, and Koutarou hadn’t responded to your message. Sighing, you dialed Tetsurou’s number.

Immediately you heard a cheeky, “Hey, darling.”

Hearing his voice immediately made you calmer. “Hey, Tetsu. Have you heard from Kou at all today?”

You heard shuffling on the other end. “No I haven’t. Is everything okay?”

You took a breath. “No, he wasn’t at school today and Akaashi said that he wasn’t at practice, and you know he never skips practice and I-“

“-Hey I know you’re worried, but I’m sure he’s fine. I have practice right now so I have to go. I’m sure it’s nothing, but if you’re this worried, maybe you can go over to his house and check on him. I can come over after practice, okay? Love you!”

You smiled, feeling more at ease, “Love you too.” You hung up.

The walk to Koutarou’s house felt longer than it usually did, but you blamed it on the nerves. Reaching the door, you knocked and it opened to reveal Koutarou’s mother.

Her eyes lit up once she saw you. “Y/n!” She pulled you into a hug. “Kou has been a bit, er, down today, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Thank you, Bokuto-san,” you said. “Is he in his room?”

She smiled, “Yes he is. Is Tetsurou also coming?”

You nodded. “He has practice right now, but he’ll be over after that.”

You continued to talk to Koutarou’s mom, before making your way upstairs. 

You knocked lightly on the doorframe. “Hey, baby.”

A muffled noise came from under the mound of blankets and comforters.

You walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge and gently stroking his hair. “What’s wrong?” you asked.

Koutarou whined, burying deeper into the covers. “I dunno, I just woke up and everything was so overwhelming and my head hurt and I couldn’t get up and-” His honey golden eyes filled with tears.

“Oh, love, don't cry it’s alright,” you said, smoothing his hair and stroking his cheek. “I’m gonna stay with you today if you’re comfortable with that. Tetsu has practice but he said he’d come over immediately after, although it might be a while.”

Not having the energy to respond, Koutarou nodded and grabbed your wrist, lightly tugging. 

You threw off your blazer, and got into bed, allowing Koutarou to bury his face in your neck and let out a sigh of relief. You pressed a kiss to the top of his head and he relaxed even more.

You gently scratched his scalp as he fell asleep.

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

It had been a few hours, and Koutarou was still asleep while you scrolled on your phone.

“Knock knock.”

You looked up to see Tetsurou leaning in the doorframe. You smiled at him, before holding a finger to your lips and tilting your head at Koutarou. He nodded, setting down his school and volleyball bags, and removed his blazer and tie.

As gently as possible, he sat down on the other side of Koutarou, and leaned over to kiss you. Although he was asleep, Tetsurou also kissed Koutarou’s forehead. Koutarou shifted in his sleep closer to Tetsurou.

“Was it one of those days?” Tetsurou whispered.

You nodded.

Tetsurou gently ran his fingers through Koutarou’s hair, softly humming. Eventually, Koutarou stirred.

He blinked, looking around the room, before his eyes settled on Tetsurou. He seemed to perk up, and turned to snuggle into Tetsurou’s chest. Tetsurou softly laughed, and kissed his forehead again.

You smiled, at your boys, settling down behind Koutarou so he could be surrounded by the both of you.

“I love you guys,” Koutarou whispered.

[mikeyss1ut]

ooo how about like maybe something about sam and reader where it sticks to the story where sam left when she was 18 and reader was hurt but when sam comes back they try to reconnect

“I WISH I COULD GO BACK IN TIME”

I’ve been wanting to write for this gorgeous girl forever but I had no ideas so this is my chanceeeee.

(She so hot wtf)

*didn’t know if you wanted past relationship or siblings so it’s past relationship!)

Warnings: cussing, unedited, sadish.

Blue line = start of story.

Bold text , like so = flashbacks

You hadn’t believed it when you heard it. Sam carpenter was back in town with a new boy toy. You didn’t believe it until you heard her sister Tara was attacked. You were still hesitant to believe it then but after you saw her you knew.

You were walking down the street when you saw her, you could barley get a look at her because her new boy who’s name “Richie” you learned from Wes’s texts was all over her. It was outside the hospital, she was on the phone with- god knows who maybe boy 2? She seemed upset, and for a second you thought about going over there, but you didn’t. You kept walking even though it took everything in you to not get up and say something to her.

“Why’d you leave me?”

“Why’d you not call?”

“Why’d you not text?”

But you didn’t ask, instead you just continued to walk by. Trying to forget what happened ever happened.

Oh yeah, you don’t know what yet happened.

“Sam…”

“Mhm?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

You hummed hesitant to responded.

“What did you do?”

“I’m pregnant.”

There you told her. Your heart was beating you and your girlfriend, Sam had been together for about 6 months but after a frisky night with a boy whose name you didn’t remember, or whose number you didn’t had changed it all. You could barley remember what he looked liked. But you told her.

“You did what?” She went to leave and you grabbed her hand “wait, please listen okay? It didn’t mean anything im sorry really I- I barley remember- I-.”

“No, okay I’m not mad I just need some time to think okay.”

She came back the next day saying she didn’t want to keep it but it would be okay if I did. And if she would try to help if I did have the baby. I said I wanted to try and she respected it. She bought clothes, food, and other random shit the baby needed.

It was all good and going well till she didn’t answer your texts, after you had your baby. You now 6 year old son. He didn’t have a dad or another mom, how it was supposed to be. But you guys were fine. Doing great and then she came back.

Here you were texting her my god , just couldn’t stay away from the bad ones can’t you?

“Hey Sam, this is me y/n I see your back in town. He seems nice and thanks for my goodbye message.”

Sent. A little bitter but it would do!

It took only a couple hours for a response.

“I want to see you, and him.”

“Where?”

“Woodsburrow high after school ends outside.”

You pulled up telling your baby to stay in the car and giving him your phone to keep him occupied while you talked to her.

You saw her, sitting on a bench. You took a deep breath in and out and walked over.

She looked up.

“Hey.” She smiled and got up

“Hi.” You said

It was silent, but still so filled with thoughts of what to say.

“I really fucking hate you.” You broke the silence.

“I know and I’m sorry.” She said

“Why did you leave?” You said

She went silent.

“It’s no excuse but, I found something out about myself, something that made me squirm and leave town.”

“Like?”

Her head whipped to you “No, no I can’t it’s- personal.”

“Please- we got pretty personal together I think you can tell me.” You said

“Billy loomis is my father.” She blankly said

“Oh- oh- h- holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Uhm- I’m sorry?” You said

“It’s fine, I’m sorry.” She said.

“C- can I see him?” She whispered

You thought for a second. I mean what was really stopping you? What would really be the hurt. You knew she wouldn’t hurt him.

“Okay.” You made the way to the car opening the door where you baby was.

You gradually took the phone out of his hand so he wouldn’t wine.

“Sweetie come on, mommy has a friend that wants to see you.” You took your little son from the car seat after unbuckling him. The rustling of trees and marking crushing of the sound his coat made against your hands.

You set him down, Sam walked over and bent over to his size.

“Well hi there!” She spoke, he giggled in response.

She was really sweet with him , after she saw him she said she would permanently be staying in town for a while, maybe years. Couldn’t conform but wanted to see if maybe she could have at least a day of the week with him. And if not maybe every other week.

You said every other week and she thanked you at least twenty times before you sent yourself back to your house.

You guys meant up occasionally and she saw your son every other week. People sometimes connect, and then disconnect. And that’s okay. Nothings perfect, and nothings forever.

Her and Richie were going good and you weren’t gonna ruin that. Once they broke up you guys tried again. It went well and you guys are still together. Is it gonna be forever ? No, probably not. But enjoy it while you can.

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

XXI. “belonging”

parts: previous / next

plot: somehow, you always find your way back home. Batman gets an intriguing lead on John Doe.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, dead body, cancer, confrontation, depression

words: 3.2k

Tears studded your cheeks as you vented to Mar about the morning's happenings. She'd never liked Dr. Vry, and at some point the conversation had exploded into a rant about the subpar character of the woman. "Remember when she accidentally input my A as a C and told me 'fate' must have guided her grade input? Then didn't fucking change it because of fucking, written in the stars bullshit? Fucking tanked my GPA."

"I just don't get it. The email said nothing about him, she said nothing about reporting on him besides being excited he would be there." You collapsed flat on your back in a starfish pose. "It was like she expected me to be starstruck by him or something. Like that was the only course of action." Like everyone else seems to be. The world caters to flashy, superficial things.

"Fuck her! You don't need her!"

You stared at her blankly for a moment. "Except for my housing, my food, my plane tickets back home?"

"How much an hour is it? Like $15?"

"$43."

"Oh fuck, in this economy you should've said you'd suck his dick, too."

Maybe you were spending a little too much time with her. "I feel like alluding to me doing anything with that man should be a crime." You flopped back on your bed and checked the time--it was barely past noon. You hadn't even managed to be at the job until the afternoon... shame threatened to cocoon you faced with such obvious failure. At this point you remembered the check Dr. Vry had sent would arrive today, and a few minutes later you sat inputting the code you'd been mailed to your digital check.

You spent the next twenty minutes listening to Mar continue to rant while you ordered some groceries. By that point she'd gotten a text from one of her friends for their Friday night bar hangout and had dismissed herself, leaving you tethered to your house as you waited to stock your fridge. You watched out the window as she got into an Uber, and after she was gone for sure, and just as the check deposited, you called your mom. Moreso even than the likely imminent firing, the stress of her health threatened to spiral you off the deep end. She picked up on the third ring. She sounded tired.

"Hey, hun." She cleared her throat, then yawned. You heard a small buzzing sound in the background, then heard a small meow. Another night he spent purring and cuddling her. Thanks, Walter. God, you were so glad she had him. "Everything alright? The photos you sent of your apartment were really good, I showed them to Debbie and she couldn't believe it! 'In GOTHAM?' is what she told me!"

To tell or not to tell about the troubles this week held? She yawned again. Not the time. "You sound tired." Your grip tightened around the phone.

She sighed. "My doctors moved my appointment to six thirty in the morning, can you believe that?" She tsk-d.

"How'd the appointment go?"

"Oh just fine. I had to sign a bunch of paperwork and talk to practically everyone in the place." She sounded bored and vaguely annoyed, which she hadn't been before. Irritability a potential side effect?

"Did the shot hurt?" Small talk, but what else was there to discuss? Your likely firing?

"Nope." She began cooing to Walter, who became exponentially louder with his purr.

"How's your arm? Any side effects yet?" God, why did things feel so dry today? Did Gotham really create so much distance already between you and your family? Were you just anxious and overthinking? Was she annoyed?

"My my, they must have you busy with interviewing skills."

You opened your mouth to respond, but she questioned you instead. "When are you coming back hon?"

This question confused you. "Uh, whenever you need me to, but I thought starting next month? For the injections?" You twirled with a frayed end on your blanket. Can I still return this? It's been like a week and it's already tearing apart... she snapped you out of your wandering with her next sentence.

"Sure, your dad and I are going on a cruise this week."

A cruise? Right after her first dose of an experimental cancer drug? With unknown side effects? "Mom, your treatment,"

"Oh we'll only be gone a week. Won't interfere with my next appointment." Walter meowed again. Who would be taking care of him?

"I mean, okay. I just think with not knowing the side effects of your first dose,"

"The way I see it dear is this might be the best I ever get to feel."

That sentence hit like a ton of bricks atop bruised ribs. "Couldn't you wait a week, just see the side effects?"

"The cruise leaves the port tomorrow."

"Mom,"

"We still can't believe that donor. Whoever they are, they really opened our finances up. Your father's been saving for years to try and make that initial bulk payment,"

You recalled the argument they'd had when your mother's cancer was initially found. Your mom wanted to start a payment plan immediately, but your dad thought if he put it into deferment for a few years and made payments to a high yield savings account every month their money would 'go exponentially further'. You hadn't cared much at the time, mostly because money stressed you the hell out, and at the time you were trying to avoid thinking about your mother's prognosis. Before you could decide what to say next, your dad had walked into the room and starting shouting loud enough for you to hear on the phone.

"Hey sweets, how are you and that Wayne guy doing?"

"I don't know how else to tell you guys I don't like him. We don't talk." This conversation was going nowhere, and you could smell an impending argument if you stayed on even another minute. You needed to check on one last thing before hanging up. "Who's looking after Walter?"

"Oh don't worry about that,"

"I am worried. Do you need me to come back to watch him?"

"Debbie will be stopping in throughout the week to check on him."

Walter was never very fond of Debbie; whenever she came over, in fact, he ran and hid. If you knew Debbie any less you might think Walter was placing judgment on her character, but no: she was just very loud, her laugh sounding a bit like a stampede. Walter was never very skittish, but after enough startles, he'd come to hide whenever he heard her come around. His discomfort was all you needed. "Tell her not to come, I'm coming home for the week."

"Hon," your mom began to chastise you, but you refused to let her finish. "No, no, I'm coming home tomorrow and I will stay with him. Case closed." After saying goodbye and lying about having already bought a nonrefundable ticket, you hung up and bought the earliest flight for tomorrow: 11am. You did your best to avoid thoughts of how the thousand Dr. Vry had sent was already disappearing, and filled the rest of your evening (sans figuring out what to do with fresh bags of perishable groceries) packing to head back the next day.

The bat signal hadn't lit since Thursday night. Bruce had been left reeling, kicking himself for not following up with Gordon on the owl debacle. He went out every night, and every few hours would move to the usual meeting place with Gordon to find an empty sky. It was Wednesday night before the signal lit again, and by that point Bruce had nearly gaslit himself into thinking the owls hadn't been there in the first place.

Gordon looked morose, but resolved. "We have the autopsy back for our John Doe." He held up a graphic photo of the man, gray and laid out on stainless steel. His chest and abdominal cavities were peeled open and pinned to keep tension, revealing a normal—yet punctured—chest and abdomen. Gordon confirmed its complete lack of novelty. "Nothing. Couldn't even trace back a name. No one posting about a missing husband, child, brother, nephew, friend." He paused to clear his throat. "However, we did find something unusual in one of his fillings."

"Unusual? How?"

"The coroner said he almost didn't catch it, but he runs the deceased through an MRI machine after especially gruesome cases. Normally fillings don't show up on magnets, but these ones did." He held out his other hand, revealing a few small pieces of chipped silvery metal. The metal was extremely slick and had a mirror finish to its shine. "It's a metallic alloy of sorts. I'll send it to the lab for processing."

He nearly asked to take it back to his own lab, but that would pressure the boundaries. Gordon was in a tight spot being seen with Batman. He couldn't push it. "How long until it's processed?"

Gordon shrugged, his nose scrunched like he was still smelling formaldehyde's stench. Bruce thought he might've caught a whiff off his jacket. "Not more than a coupla days. I'll signal for you." If the city was in a better place, if Gordon was in a better mood, he might have winked.

The pause gave Bruce just enough time to speak. He said it casually, without much fuss, as if it were a rolling breeze. "Did you see what was on the knives' handles?"

Gordon sighed. A good one? A bad one? Bruce's eyes trained on him like a hawk. The cowl felt tight. "Chicken scratch, most of 'em."

"Most?" Say more.

"No traceable logo."

Frustration bled into his tone. "Looked like an owl."

Gordon's eyes focused on no particular point on the back wall, his eyes narrowing. What? He saw it too, right? pounded against his ribs to be heard. After what felt like hours Gordon shook his head. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" Was this an elaborate scheme? Did Gordon not see it? Was his, was his mind failing him? It glinted off the light perfectly, the etching was transparent in its shape, the beak, the feathers, the claws...

"You alright?" The Bat was lost in thought, breathing thick and heavy. Bruce nodded. To push, or not to push? Silence hung like smog between them. It was crucial to push it, imperative to reality check his mental faculties. "It didn't resemble an owl to you?"

Gordon shrugged. It gave no information to Bruce, who was close to running out of the room and laying face-down in his pillow the rest of the night while he actively avoided looking further into the death of his great-grandfather. Was his time coming sooner than his had? Was it due to his lack of sociability? Had he been concussed one too many times? His neuronal pathways seized up, the myelin sheaths disintegrated?

"Do you know anything about owls?"

Did Gordon know? Was this a trick question? Wait, he wasn't Bruce. He considered saying he'd seen them in peculiar position throughout town, but moreso than Gordon's rocky relationship with the police force, the man had no idea who Batman was; Bruce had to keep exclusively to formidable behavior due to the weakness of the knot tying them together. A kooky moment, or a Freudian slip could force Gordon to take out some scissors and sever their relationship. Bruce shook his head, and left.

Uber. TSA. Flight. Baggage. Uber. Key. Door. Lock. Walter. Eat. Sleep. Walter. Eat. Sleep. Walter. Eat. Sleep. Walter. The past few days had passed in such inconsequential monotony you resisted the conclusion you weren't alive at all. The only moments of reprieve you gathered were when Walter walked up and jumped into bed beside you, tucking his fluffy back against your stomach. He was the only reason you were able to sleep with the anxiety of your job being in limbo, and your mom having fled the town after her first shot. Your mom had left a note saying that the connection would be spotty on the cruise, but they would be back no later than 5pm the following Friday. Now it was Wednesday, and the food your parents had left was starting to dwindle. Your muscles ached to be moved further than the walk from your bed to the bathroom, your bed to the kitchen, or your bed to the living room couch. You put another ice cube into Walter's bowl, grabbed your helmet that was thankfully still in the hallway closet, and took off for a ride to the grocery store on your mom's old bike.

The air was warm, and the sun threatened to burn every centimeter of exposed skin. You'd forgotten just long enough that the stinging sensation was of hot sun piercing onto skin to where you decided against going back for SPF. You didn't have to worry about such basic, human things in Gotham; the sun barely came out, and when it did it was covered by such dense clouds and thick smog you couldn't begin to feel heat against your skin whatsoever. The buildings were hard and cold, the dense metal keeping you chilled no matter the season. Now the sun accosted you, the wheels of the bike running over fresh leaves and the occasional string of hay. You swerved past clumps of clay dirt that lay in the middle of the road, shut your eyes for a few seconds as you coasted, not having to look out for a pedestrian or car every five feet. This was living, this was where you wanted to be. Tears prickled your eyes as you coasted into the dusty parking lot of WinCo, a local grocery store chain to the PNW. You forgot a bike lock, but the city was small and trusted enough that you never heard about bikes getting stolen, anyway. The initial panic was immediately eased, as well as the tight knot in your chest. Maybe you belonged... here?

You walked into the grocery and went straight for the fruit aisle. As you placed apples and oranges and pears in your basket, you absentmindedly flipped through the past. When you were growing up here, it was too boring. You'd wanted nothing more than to leave. You wanted to see skyscrapers, and big cities, and always have something happening around you. Now that you had experienced the worst of what a city could give, this town with its penetrating sun and lofty trees felt like paradise. A paradise that was quickly interrupted, when you accidentally knocked baskets with Lara. "Oh shit,"

"Y/N?" She pulled her basket in and glanced to her left, at someone who you presumed was her exchange boyfriend. She stared at your shoes, you noticed her cheeks going pink. Tension yanked on your shoulders and your stomach flipped. "Hi. I'm watching Walter while my parents are on a cruise."

"No longer in Gotham?" Her boyfriend turned around when she mentioned The Most Feared City, and walked over. "Gotham? That shitshow? I don't know how anyone can live there."

Fucking prick. A strange defensiveness overtook you. "It's not as bad as people make it out to be." Yes it was. "I'm just visiting home, I have a journalism job back there."

"How's Bruce Wayne?" Her tone was mocking, quite unlike Lara, and you figured it had to be Rose and Gabbi's bitter influence in the time you'd been gone that brought this upon her. Mystery Man's eyes lit up, one of the buttons on his shirt threatened to pop like the bulgy vein in his forehead. "You know Bruce Wayne? The Bruce Wayne?"

"She knows him, alright." She side-eyed the guy and giggled. He laughed, which was startling, and shame bolted through your body like a sticky, sharp rod. He leaned into her ear and said, still loud enough for you to hear and likely purposely so, "Her?"

Before shame could fully envelope you, you righted the wrong; in part because the idea of someone believing Bruce had been inside you made you want to sink into the floor, in another wanting to assuage yourself of guilt. "We haven't fucked. Sorry. I was just trying to get back at losers I thought were my friends."

Lara gasped. "I can't believe you!" It rung hollow in your ear just as Dr. Vry had. If someone put their hand over your head they'd feel steam. "You didn't used to be like this, it's fucking disappointing." You spun around and ignored what she was saying behind you, shoving your feet against the ground, making your calves burn with each grief-consumed footstep. It doesn't matter what they think. It doesn't matter what she's saying. Soon enough you made it across the store to the pantry aisle, pretending to inspect some cavatappi noodles in your quivering hands. The cardboard soaked up your bulleted tears, and you tossed it in your basket after catching a glimpse of your reflection in the boxes' plastic window. You fell to your knees and covered it up pretending to inspect the marinara, not trusting your thighs or knees to keep you steady. Everything hit you all at once, panic rising in your chest and narrowing your esophagus. You grabbed a random sauce and ran to the self checkout, ringing up your two items, grabbing a bag, and taking off for home.

The ride home wasn't as quaint as the one there. The sun wasn't at your backside, now it seared into your bleary eyes as it set, making you unable to see a rock in the road, sending you flying overtop the handlebars. When you touched your knees and elbows, they stung and stained your fingertips red. The last ten minutes of the walk was utter misery, as blood dribbled slowly down your knees and down to your wrists. Walter meowed when you came back, but you couldn't pet him. You turned the water as cold as you could manage to wash away the cakey blood and dirt. Your hands hesitated before lathering the shampoo, and when they scrubbed the back of your head you began to cry again. Your face was hot and your body ice cold. You sat on the floor, pulled your knees up, and wrapped your hands around your chest as sobs shrieked out of you. The water ran pink, then pastel, then clear. Being alive hurt. The thought pounded at the back of your corneas, chafed blisters between your thighs, and spiked the ridges in your throat, that you might never, ever, feel "home". Walter meowed at the door, you turned off the shower, and toweled off to open another can of Friskies.

[marauder-exe]

Self care- p!Tommyinnit x reader

i wish i was bsfriends w tommy :’)

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings:themes of depression, nothing too deep

A/N: Taking Tommy and Wilbur requests!! u cant tell me tommy doesn’t do the classic british X’s on txts to his friends

It had been a rough stream, 8 hours sat in the same chair putting on the same happy face, it was unbelievably exhausting some days. You took of your headset and set it down after pressing ‘end stream’, you ruffled your hair and took in a deep breath, throwing a glance at the clock on your computer. 5am. You tried to throw caution to the wind, maybe it was an off day? But no, you could feel it, deep inside, another episode. You looked directly into the webcam, your face scrunching up as you take note of your appearance, your ruffled hair, your dark eye bags. It felt like hours, just staring at yourself, your famous thousand-yard stare painted across the screen. Suddenly, your phone vibrated from its place on the desk. You lethargically picked it up as the bright screen illuminated your otherwise dark room. It was Tommy.

Big T: ‘bedwars stream tmrw? : ) x’  

You really didn't feel up to it in all honesty, but you didn’t want to let Tommy down like that, he loves bedwars. A sad smile made its way to your face as you drafted your text back.

Gremlin: ‘only if were on duos together : ) x’

Big T: ‘5pm? X’ You responded with a simple yeee.

You discarded your phone to the side and stood up for the first time in hours. Your bones ached as you outstretched your limbs. Pain. You walked over to your bed and sat on the edge, eyes scouring the room, even though you weren't sure what you were looking for, an escape maybe? It wasn’t even like you had anything to be upset over, great friends, successful streamer, everything was going great, but alas, depression does not give a shit. You crawled into bed, putting your phone on charge and grabbed all of your covers over your head, a long sigh making its way from your lips.

The next day/  

Tommy loaded up minecraft on his computer, reading to slay game at bedwars with you. He got unusually excited when he played minecraft with you, even more excited than normal. There was something about you man, but he just couldn’t figure it out. Youd met in high school, same town and everything, and since then you were like a drug. Not a day had gone by since year 9 that you didn’t talk. He decided to drop you a message as you hadn't texted first. He asked if you were still up for bedwars. Surprisingly though, he didn’t receive a response. He waited. Just 5 minutes he said. And then 10. And then 20. Then 30. He decided to ring you just to check. Plus, he wanted to hear your voice. It rang thrice and nothing. His eyebrows drew together in confusion. You were almost always online. He tried not to overthink, but this is Tommy were talking about. Maybe you were still asleep? He wanted to believe that, but there was an itch, in his brain, that told him not to. Just to make sure, he decided to ask some of your mutual friends on the server. He clicked onto the group discord and noticed Wilbur, philza and Nikki in a vc.  

“Hello Hoes and Homies alike” He bellowed when he joined the vc. Wilbur drew a confused look.

“I thought you were doing duo bed wars with (Y/N) today?” Tommy scoffed.

“Well yah, Wilburrrrr, if you let me get a word out” He joked light heartedly “No seriously though has anyone heard from her since her stream last night” They all looked confused and shook their heads. This made him even more concerned than he was. He quickly thanked them before disconnecting. His mind was running rampant. He quickly decided to throw his shoes on, you didn’t live that far, only a bus ride away on the otherside of town. He grabbed his keys and his jacket and rushed down the stairs.

“Going over to (Y/N)s for a bit” He shouted to Motherinnit as he slammed the door shut.  

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

You were straing at the roof in a pit of self loathing when you heard your phone ring. Ugh. It seemed so much work to pick it up. Your hand made its way from under the mountain of covers and snatched your phonr from the side. Tommy. You felt a sting in the back of your eyes and tossed your phone on the bed, turning over and curling up in the covers. You stared at the inside of your covers for minutes on end. Your doorbell sent a sharp chime through the house as your mother went to answer it.

“Hello Tommy, what a surprise" He threw her a quickly greeted her and got straight to the point.

“Is (Y/N) in?”

“Shes upstairs I think, I havent heard from her all day though. Go on up” She stood to the side and let him pass.

You heard the entire conversation through your open window, and let out a heavy sigh, although you were secretly thanking Tommy in uour head for checking up on you. You heard his converse hit the steps as your door was threw open. Tommy immediately regretted his actions, wondering if you were asleep as he took note of the heap of covers on the bed. He let out a quiet whisper.

“(Y/N)?”  

You didn’t really feel like talking, but you let out a quiet ‘yeah’. He rushed over to your side upon hearing your weak response.

“is everything alright? We were meant to be playing bedwars like an hour ago” This prompted you to pull the covers off your head and look at him. He took note of your puffy red eyes, and the dark eye bgs lying underneath. He looked around your room, empty energy drink cand and food containers littered your room. It suddenly clicked to him. You weren't doing okay. He looked back at you deeply, something about that look just caused the floodgates to open. Your eyes were glassy, as Tommy practically melted. He hated seeing you like this. Sure he had the bit of him being a big man with no emotions, but you where his weakness. “Hey, cmon don’t cry” He whispered as he opened his arms, welcoming you into a hug. In an instant you where in his arms, leaving tear stains on his TShirt. He didn’t seem to mind though. After a moment of silence, only broken by your sobs, he piped up. “How about, we forget about the stream for today, and ill go to the corner shop and get us some snacks, and marshmallows and whipped cream, and we can have those killer hot chocolates your mom makes. We can watch a bunch of movies, and ill even let you put one of those stupid facemasks on me, yeah?” This caused a laugh to pierce your sobs, which started to lighten up. You sniffled and pulled back from his hug, a huge smile making its way onto your face, the first genuine smile in a while.

“Thats my girl, that’s what I love to see” He matched your smile. You quickly threw your arms around him and pulled him into a long hug.

“Thank you Tommy” You said sincerely.

“Anything for my favourite girl” He smiled, as he pulled back from the hug. “Maybe while im gone you could try to shower?” He knew how tough some simple things where when you felt like this. You nodded smally and sat up. He leapt from the bed and smiled. “Okay, I wont be long!” And with that, he dashed out of the room.  

You lay back on your bed. You werent okay, but that’s okay, because Tommyinnit is your best friend :)

[ravensmainslut]

Silenced

Another night full of worried moms freaking out over slight mishaps or a few cheerleaders getting injured during a stunt. Nothing drastic or important to cause the nurses to do fourteen different things all at once. The emergency area in the Inova Fairfax Hospital had empty beds placed in every pod, the smell of cleaning supplies lingering in the air thanks to the night shift workers. Harmony Trenue had her brunette hair put into a long curled ponytail that would bounce when walking and a smile graced her face due to the inactiveness within her work area. Maybe the idiots were staying off the road tonight, she thought.

Harmony's phone buzzed in her pocket once. Then twice. Then finally a third time, provoking her to check the message.

Rae: what time will you be home

Rae: hello?

Rae: r u living?

It was only her lover, Raven, bugging her about the differentiated schedules. While Harmony was finishing up her internship at the hospital, Raven was finishing her studies to become an Aircraft and Avionics Equipment Mechanic. It was rare the two girls ever got to see each other due to their workaholic and determined nature. Harmony felt somewhat bad for not answering the messages sent thirty minutes apart but in her defense, they were only received all at once. Raven never called unless she felt like ranting, she only texted. On a call both people have to talk, that's how they work. There is only one problem with that analogy. Harmony is mute. Some consider it a disorder while others believe it to be an illness. If you ever asked her she would sign “It's neither.” She was not sick, nor was she crazy.

Mony: I'm off in an hour - will be home soon

She responds with a humorous huff. But the smile was washed from her face and the pip in her step was nowhere in sight as yells of help were being screamed across the ER. Her eyes caught the sight of a beaten and battered woman limping with the help of the wall. The screams started to turn into small, deaf to the ear, mutters when one of Harmony’s higher-ups, Dr.Griffin, hesitantly approached the woman. “Hey hun,” the doctor said in a sickly sweet tone, “what happened to ya?”

Dr. Griffin goes to place her hand onto the woman's non-injured shoulder but is cut off with a jerk back and prominent shake of the head. “Ok. Ok. All right. How about we get you into a room?” She says while motioning towards a pod but the woman still seems hesitant. “Dr. Trenue, would you mind showing her where to go? Maybe we can get her cleaned up a little bit.” It was less of a question and more of a command. Harmony coaxes the woman towards herself to which she complies. Once Dr. Griffin is sure the woman will follow Harmony, she leaves to locate a security guard. It was prominent that her wounds were caused by someone and not something.

Harmony makes no move to touch or communicate with the injured woman as she leads her into one of the pods. Her small mutters have stopped and turned into complete silence when sitting on the bed. As Harmony prepares the supplies, she steals small glances toward the bed to completely assess all injuries. The most eye-catching mark left on her body were the finger marks on her throat already starting to become prominent although only left mere hours ago. The back of her shirt near her shoulder was ripped, showing small rocks embedded in her skin. Her shorts allowed Harmony to see the slashed Achilles tendon on both ankles. A large bloody gash crosses her hairline, most likely caused by a bigger rock. Not to mention the dirt covering every inch of her body. “He touched me.”

It was the woman's voice that snapped her out of the assessment. She must have been staring instead of glancing without realizing it. The woman only looked at her hands but nothing else and her voice was back to the same level as the small mutters. “He ambushed me. He opened my lips and took my tongue from between my teeth. I didn't want to.” Deep breaths started to be pushed from her mouth. “I thought maybe if just complied, he would only invade my one set of lips. But his hands. His hands roamed every part of my body.” Her pain-stricken eyes finally glazed up to Harmony. “We were in a park. A public park, yet no matter how hard I cried or how loud I screamed no one heard me.” her voice started to wobble, “I was just clearing my head; taking a walk.”

A minute of understanding passes between the two's intense gaze but it was interrupted by the curtain being thrown open. Dr. Griffin entered with a security guard following close behind. Harmony could see their mouths moving but nothing was coming out. They started to become blurry, hard to tell if it was through tears or if something was seriously wrong with her vision. Harmony stormed out of the room, supplies being prepared were forgotten about, and fixing up the woman, whose name she never even learned, wounds were forgotten about. With Dr. Griffin in the room, she was able to slip out without any objections or questions. Fortunately, Harmony was able to find a small deserted closet with a surprisingly large amount of room.

The silence was so loud yet so deafening at the same time. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears but the room held a sense of calm. They both screamed for help. They both sobbed in fear of what was to come. They both could feel his hands still roaming across every crease and crevice of their bodies. They both refused to be touched, even by those that could be trusted. Every experience is different but every experience changes a person. Whether that be for the worst or the best, well that's up to them to decide.

Harmony took slow, deep breaths while counting backward from ten as many times as it took. Once she gains her senses back, she scrambles to yank her phone out of the coat pocket. She quickly goes to her most recent message and clicks the call button without hesitation. The phone only has a chance to ring twice before Raven's hard voice fills the large space. “Harmony? What's wrong? Are you ok? Why are you calling?” Her voice was quick and panicked. A moment passes with no noise coming from either end of the line.

It was barely a whisper but it was there. “Somethings wrong."