#thank you if you stuck with me all the way through

[onlyhereforthestories]

Chica Medica - Part 5 (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

So its been a while (sorry!) You won't have to wait long for the final few parts of this I am half way through the next part. Thank you all who have stuck with me, this was one of the first things I wrote and I feel a little emotional that it is finally coming to an end. Anyway enough ramble enjoy part 5!

You had gone through your whole wardrobe by this point, and you still couldn’t find the right thing to wear. All your clothes were spread around your room in various states of crinkled from the constant changing you had been doing. Nothing was working together or, or you were not feeling confident in others.

You checked you phone to see you had exactly 23 minutes before Leila and Mapi were due to collect you, so you knew you needed to get a move on. Deciding the only way you were actually going to put anything on over the underwear you currently resided in was with some help, you dialled the number of the only person who could sort you out.

Ona picked up on the second ring, “Hola Hermana, what can I do for you?” her smile and voice had the wave of calm you needed right now to stop your mind from its current running all over the place.

“I need help. I have Christmas drinks with the Barca girls tonight and I don’t know what to wear, I have tried my whole wardrobe on and nothing is right. I need you to just tell me what to wear.” Ona could hear the frustration in your voice.

“I’m guessing you are only this stressed about what you look like because of a certain midfielder, you never care about what you look. I’ve literally been to the club with you in joggers before.” You rolled your eyes at the woman before giving her a pointed look through your phone. Now wasn’t the time for memories or teasing you about the fact that you were hyperaware of the brunette that would in fact see you in the clothes you picked tonight.

“Ona please.” You pulled out the puppy eyes and the bottom lip, both of which you knew would get Ona helping you in a couple seconds flat.

“Oh, you really want my help you’ve pulled out the big guns. Okay show me what I’m working with. Ooooo actually do you still have that black silk shirt? The one you wore to you knows party?” you knew exactly what shirt she meant, it was the only item you had not actually tried on tonight, you’d just chucked it to the side.

“I do yes. Is that not like bad luck or something to wear?” Could you really wear a shirt your ex loved on you so much to a party you were so worried about looking good for because of the new person you had feelings for.

“She didn’t buy it for you I did, and you look really, really hot in it so if you want Alexia to drool over you, I would definitely say wear it.” You found it in the pile of clothes and picked out some beige slacks with the help of Ona, you chatted with the Manchester United player while you got ready and only said goodbye when you heard the doorbell ring.

Getting to the hired club was fun, Mapi and Leila had both complimented your outfit and made comments about who you were trying to impress much to your annoyance. The best thing was they both promised to protect or help you if you needed it, something that you almost chocked up on thanking them for. You were very lucky to have such amazing friends around you.

When the three of you got in you could tell it was going to be a fun night, Pina came running over to you all with Patri hot on her heels both had beers in both hands, and you were all passed one. Apparently, a drink had to be drunk as soon as you got in to be allowed to join the big group at the table.

Not one to back down from any challenge, you smirked at the two younger women who gave you the drink as you held the beer up in a semi cheers to them and downed it in a very easy and quick time. When you wiped your upper lip, you couldn’t help but laugh at the look on Claudia’s face. The younger woman’s jaw was on the floor so to say, and she had a slight spark of awe in her eyes.

What you didn’t know was that Alexia had walked in with Jenni just as you raised your beer so got to watch you smoothly chug it. An action from you that she found very hot indeed and even voiced that accidently out loud which put her on the receiving end of a slap to the back of the head from her best friend.

Righting herself and sending a quick but not really meant sorry to the older woman, Alexia walked just behind the little group surrounding you to the table where she was greeted with her own drink to see off as quickly as she could. She took a lot longer and struggled a lot more than you did to do it.

As the night went on the drinks flowed more and more, you had had your fair share but had stopped once the pleasant buzz had fully kicked in. You really didn’t like the feeling of losing your senses anymore, so you knew when to switch to sodas. Alexia had noticed you do this and chose to do the same thing in order to hopefully talk with you when her confidence wasn’t on the floor.

Confidence or not her opportunity came when Leila dragged the people on your table up and to the dance floor and you waved them away, stating you needed to watch and see what moves they were doing before you could join in. An excuse for sure but Alexia wasn’t going to complain.

Taking a breath to calm her already racing heart she grabbed her drink and walked towards you. “Mind if I join you?”

“I was wondering how long it would take you to come over here once they left. You pleasantly surprised me with a little under a minute.” You faced her with a giggle, which turned into a full on laugh when you saw her cheeks heat up. “I am only messing with you, of course you can sit. In fact, I would really like it if you did.” It was your turn to blush now, the alcohol you had consumed earlier obviously making your lips a little looser then they would normally be.

“I haven’t got a chance to tell you how stunning you look. That shirt is incredible.” Alexia wasn’t hiding her obvious attraction to the outfit you were wearing, in fact you could see it swimming in her gaze.

“You look incredible yourself, I do have to admit that open back dress on you will always get to me.” You were again saying a lot, more than you ever had in fact. Your inner thoughts of tracing the tattoos on her back came to mind and you had to shake your head to clear your mind of that briefly.

You did manage to catch her ducking her head at what you said, and it boosted your confidence a little bit. Deciding that you needed another actual drink now that this situation was clearly happening you decided you were not going to do it alone. “Do you want to get a drink with me?”

“I’d love nothing else. Lead the way, but drinks are on me.” Alexia was standing next to where you were sitting in the booth with her hand held out to you, a hopeful look in her eyes. A hopefully look that turned into full blown joy the second you placed your hand in hers and made to stand up.

Alexia was quick to drag you with her to the bar where she got you both a shot and a normal drinking drink. Those were drunk at the bar, the both of you enjoying the time away from the bulk of the group and slightly further away from the music so you didn’t have to shout so much to hear one another.

Alexia had just downed the last of her drink while making direct eye contact with you, taking the obvious hint she was giving you, you downed the last bit of your own. As you put the glass down on the bar you found a hand placed on the small of your back and your body gently pulled in the direction Ale was moving. You ended up on the dance floor with the rest of the girls, you split of slightly from the woman that was always on your mind so you could join the girls that dragged you here.

You danced with them all for an unknown amount of time, you were having the best time, and it didn’t matter who you were with. Alexia would slide up behind you every so often and get you dancing with her before she let you go back to either Mapi or Leila depending on who was requesting your presence.

As the night progressed and you consumed your final drink, you cut yourself off as you knew this was your limit. You knew that if you drank anymore it would go from a fun slightly heavy night to a messy night. Apparently, Alexia was in agreement because about 30 minutes after that final drink she was heading towards the bar to get water, something that you were planning on doing too.

“Did you get water?” You didn’t realise how much you were pressed up to the woman, but she did. Alexia could feel the curve of you pressed up against her and it was sending her head spinning more than alcohol every could. She took a second to compose herself before glancing over her shoulder and answering you.

“Si.” You smiled before requesting that she made that two. With a water in each of her hands she nudged your shoulder to get you moving back in the direction of the booth you were in earlier.

As you and Alexia returned to the booth, drinks in hand, the atmosphere between you was charged with unspoken words and lingering glances. The club was still buzzing with energy. Laughter and music filled the air, but here in your little corner, everything seemed quieter, more intimate.

You settled in next to Alexia, close enough that your knees brushed under the table. It sent a spark through you, but you focused on your water, taking a long sip to calm the nerves that had been building all night.

"Did you enjoy the dancing?" Alexia asked, her voice just loud enough for you to hear over the music. She leaned in slightly, her breath warm against your ear, and you tried not to let it affect you too much.

"Yeah," you replied, looking at her with a playful smirk. "Especially when you kept sneaking up behind me."

Her cheeks flushed slightly, but she didn’t break eye contact. "I thought you liked that."

You raised an eyebrow. "I didn’t say I didn’t." The tension between you hung in the air like a charged wire, sparking every time you exchanged a glance or a touch.

For a while, you talked casually; about the team, about the night, both of you skirting around the real conversation neither of you seemed ready to have. But the underlying feeling of something more was undeniable, every small gesture, every laugh shared, seemed to pull you closer.

After a bit of quiet, you glanced over at the dance floor where Leila and Mapi were making a scene with some questionable dance moves. You shook your head, laughing softly. "I don’t know how they manage to be so ridiculous and so fun at the same time."

Alexia grinned. "That’s Mapi and Leila for you. But it looks like they’re having a good time. I think this was really needed for them." You always admired how much the woman cared for her teammates, it was one of the many things that made her such a wonderful captain.

You nodded in agreement but felt the weight of her gaze on you, the air between you growing heavier. The rest of the room faded into the background, and suddenly, sitting so close to her, the only thing you could focus on was the warmth radiating from her body and how easily her presence made your heart race.

Without thinking, you stood up, needing a moment to collect yourself. "I’m going to the bathroom," you said, your voice steadier than you felt. "I’ll be right back."

Alexia watched you go, her eyes following you as you made your way through the crowd. The moment you disappeared into the hallway leading to the bathrooms, she stood up, almost on instinct, and followed. She caught up with you just as you reached the door to the bathroom.

"Hey," she called softly, causing you to turn around. Her gaze was intense, her brown eyes darker under the dim club lights. "Wait a second."

You stopped, heart pounding in your chest. "What is it?"

For a moment, Alexia just looked at you, like she was weighing her next words, but instead of speaking, she closed the distance between you. The hallway was dimly lit, the noise from the club muffled, and the two of you stood close, the space between you shrinking with every passing second.

Her hand brushed yours, a light touch that sent a shiver up your spine. "I—" she began, but whatever words she’d been about to say faded into silence. Instead, she leaned in slowly, giving you a moment to pull away if you wanted to, but you didn’t. You couldn’t not with her.

Your heart raced as her lips met yours, the kiss slow and deliberate. It wasn’t the rushed, drunken kiss from before; this one was different. It was tender, purposeful, and full of the tension that had been building between you all night. This kiss was meant, you could feel it in the way you both eased into it and melted into one another.

You kissed her back, your hands instinctively moving to her waist, pulling her closer. The world around you disappeared, leaving just the feel of her lips against yours, soft but insistent, like she had been waiting for this moment just as much as you had.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

"I... I’ve been wanting to do that all night," Alexia admitted softly, her thumb brushing over your hand, still entwined with hers. You got slightly lost in the feeling of her warm breath running over your lips as she was still so close to you.

You let out a soft laugh, your heart still pounding in your chest. "I’m glad you did."

Before you could say more, you heard familiar voices approaching from the direction of the club. You glanced at Alexia, the tension still palpable between you.

"We should get back before they notice we’re both gone," you said, though a part of you wasn’t ready for this moment to end. A part of you knew that if you could you would stand here like this with Alexia for as long as she would allow.

Alexia nodded, but her fingers lingered on your hand for a second longer before letting go. "Right. Yes."

Just as you both started to head back to the booth, Leila and Mapi came around the corner, clearly on a mission to find you. "There you are!" Leila exclaimed with a mischievous grin. "We were wondering where our chica medica disappeared to."

Mapi’s eyes flicked between you and Alexia, a knowing smile spreading across her face. "Ohhhh, what did we miss?"

You laughed, trying to play it cool. "Nothing much. Just needed a break from all your terrible dancing."

Leila gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. "Excuse me, my moves are iconic."

Alexia chuckled beside you, but you could still feel the tension simmering beneath the surface. You weren’t sure if Mapi and Leila could sense it, but you knew you couldn’t stay here much longer without risking more teasing or worse, revealing too much.

"I think I’m going to head home," you said suddenly, glancing at Alexia for a brief second before turning to your friends. "It’s been a long day."

Leila and Mapi exchanged a glance but didn’t push. "We’ll come with you," Leila offered, her tone softer now. "It’s getting late anyway."

"Yeah," Mapi added, clearly sensing there was more going on but choosing not to dig, for now at least. "Let’s get out of here."

As you all made your way out of the club, Alexia stayed close to you, her arm brushing against yours every so often. You didn’t speak much, but the kiss still lingered in the air between you, full of possibility and unanswered questions.

And though you weren’t quite sure what would happen next, for now, you were content knowing that something had shifted between you and Alexia, something that felt too real to ignore.

The final whistle echoed through the stadium, marking the end of the last game before Christmas. The team had secured a comfortable win, and the energy in the locker room was buzzing with excitement. You smiled, watching the others as they celebrated, but your mind was already elsewhere, on the gift you’d been planning for Alexia.

Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and you both had flights to catch you were heading home to your family, and Alexia was off to Dubai for a much-deserved break as well as the award ceremony she had to attend. Despite the unspoken tension between you, the connection had only grown deeper, especially after that night at the club. But there were still so many things left unsaid, and you wanted to give her something so that she knows you are thinking of her over the break.

The present you had picked wasn’t overly sentimental, but it was personal. Something that could remind her of your time together while not being overly obvious to anyone outside of the two of you. You had chosen a silver necklace with a pendant that had a small wave on it, echoing the tattoo she had on her arm. To you, the wave symbolized something constant and unyielding just like the ocean, always in motion but forever steady. It was your way of telling her that, no matter what storms or calm seas lay ahead, you would be there, quietly supporting her, just as the ocean never stops flowing. You remembered a conversation you had shared about her tattoo and how it made you feel, how it reminded you that even when things are chaotic, some things, like your care for her, would always remain steady.

Attached to the box that held the necklace was a simple note with "Open on Christmas" written across the top in your neat handwriting. You didn’t dare give it to her directly, it wasn’t a grand gesture, but the idea of watching her reaction made your stomach flutter nervously.

As the team headed for the showers, you saw your chance. While everyone was distracted, you slipped over to Alexia’s bag. Glancing around to make sure no one noticed, you carefully placed the small box deep inside, just under her change of clothes. The note, tucked on top of the box, would be the first thing she’d see when she unpacked the bag later.

Your heart raced a little as you zipped her bag back up, the nerves making your hands slightly shaky. You weren’t sure what Alexia would think, but you hoped she’d at the very least like the necklace, even if she didn’t appreciate the meaning.

Just as you finished, Mapi walked by, oblivious to what you’d just done. "Hey, you ready to head out?" she asked, a wide grin on her face.

"Yeah," you replied, forcing a calmness into your voice. "Just about."

As the rest of the team began to gather their things, you exchanged a few quick goodbyes. With the Christmas break upon you, you’d all be going your separate ways for the holidays. You lingered for a moment, watching Alexia as she packed up her own bag, a small smile playing on her lips as she laughed at something Jenni said. You wondered when she’d find the present, and a nervous excitement built in your chest. You just hoped shed find it before she left, the logical part of your brain knew she would. Alexia couldn’t not unpack and clean away her kit bag after every session, it was something she had told you at the start of your time together.

That evening Alexia did exactly as you thought she would, she was slightly distracted with thoughts of you, slightly annoyed at herself for not speaking to you before she left the grounds. As she unpacked her bag, Alexia pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on getting comfortable. She was just about to pull out her toiletries when her fingers brushed against something unexpected, something small and wrapped. Frowning, she pulled it out from the bottom of her bag, her breath catching when she saw the small box wrapped in simple paper with a note attached.

"Open on Christmas," it read in your familiar handwriting, the instructions clear.

A soft smile tugged at the corner of Alexia’s lips as she ran her thumb over the words. You had managed to sneak this into her bag without her noticing, and now, holding the gift in her hands, a warmth spread through her chest. It was thoughtful, quiet, just like you had always been when it came to her.

The next morning, Christmas Eve arrived, and the airport was packed with travellers rushing to get home or off on holiday. You were there early, having left for your flight to see your family. As you waited in line at security, you couldn’t stop thinking about the gift you’d left in Alexia’s bag. You pictured her finding it when she unpacked, seeing the note telling her to wait until Christmas to open it. You just hoped she listened to it and took it with her.

Part of you felt nervous, wondering if it was too much or maybe not enough. But you pushed the thoughts aside as your boarding group was called. You checked your phone one last time and saw a message from Mapi, teasing you about the quiet night in before you both left.

You responded with a quick laugh emoji, then turned off your phone as you headed through the gate.

Later that morning, Alexia was checking in for her flight to Dubai. She was looking forward to the break, but her mind kept drifting back to the past few weeks, and more specifically, to you. Things had felt different lately, not just because of the kiss, but because of how you seemed to understand her in a way not many people did.

She sighed softly, adjusting her carry-on bag as she walked through the airport. The team had celebrated last night, and now they were all headed in different directions. As she sat down in the waiting area for her flight, she thought back to the locker room, wondering if she’d missed her chance to say something to you before you left. But then again, you had both left so many things unsaid.

Her thoughts were interrupted by an announcement for boarding. She stood up, rolling her shoulders to relax, and joined the line for her flight. As she settled into her seat on the plane, she tucked her bag under the seat in front of her, the box with the note she discovered last night tucked neatly in a pocket inside the bag.

After a long flight from Barcelona, Alexia finally landed in Dubai, exhausted but relieved to be away from the whirlwind of the season for a few days. The city sparkled beneath the night sky as she made her way to the hotel, her thoughts wandering to the time off she would finally have to herself.

Once inside her hotel room, the silence felt both comforting and strange. The entire flight had been spent mulling over the last few weeks, her thoughts drifting to you more than she’d like to admit. She hadn’t been able to figure out where she stood with you, especially after that kiss, and the uncertainty had left her unsettled.

Her mind was also on the wrapped gift she now had put on the desk in her hotel room, she could see it from her place laying on the bed. She didn’t get you anything which wasn’t because she didn’t want to, she was just scared it wasn’t the right move. Apparently, you had the bigger balls of the two.

She got up and walked to where the gift was placed, she picked it up and re read the little note on top. Her mind involuntarily making her smile at the thought of you scribbling it. She turned it over a few times contemplating whether to open it now or not.

But it wasn’t Christmas yet, and despite the temptation to tear it open right then and there, Alexia placed the small box on the nightstand. She’d wait until midnight. It wasn’t long, and she wanted to do it properly.

As the evening passed, she showered, had a light dinner, and spent some time aimlessly scrolling through her phone. But her thoughts kept drifting back to the gift waiting for her. The curiosity of what you had chosen for her grew with each passing minute, and as the clock crept closer to midnight, the anticipation made her heart beat just a little faster.

Finally, when her phone’s clock ticked over to 12:00, Alexia got up and reached for the gift, her fingers carefully undoing the wrapping. She peeled away the paper slowly, savouring the moment, until she uncovered the small box underneath. Her breath hitched slightly as she lifted the lid, revealing a delicate silver necklace nestled inside, with a tiny, intricately engraved wave symbol on a pendant.

For a long moment, Alexia just stared at it, running her fingers gently over the pendant. The wave it was very similar to the one she forever has on her arm. She understood it immediately. The constant, steady flow of the ocean, like how you had been there for her, quietly supporting her through her physical recovery and beyond. It was personal, thoughtful, and most of all perfect.

Her eyes fell on the folded note tucked inside the box. She unfolded it carefully, her heart thudding in her chest as she read your words:

Ale,

For all the times you’ve been my steady wave, keeping me grounded even when you didn’t know it. Merry Christmas.

Y/N

Alexia’s breath caught in her throat as she read the message. She hadn’t expected to feel this much emotion over a simple gift, but the weight of your words settled deep in her chest. It wasn’t just the bracelet, it was everything. The way you had been there for her, listening to her, supporting her, even when she hadn’t been sure of her own feelings. The message was your feelings about her, but they very much reflected her own for you too.

She leaned back against the pillows, the necklace still resting in her palm as she stared at it, feeling the emotions swell up inside her. It wasn’t just a gift. It was a message, one that told her, in no uncertain terms, that you were thinking of her, that you cared. That you might well always care if she would let you.

For the first time in a long time, Alexia allowed herself to think about what might come next. You were more than just her physiotherapist. You had become someone important, someone she couldn’t stop thinking about.

As she slipped the necklace around her neck, she made a quiet promise to herself. When she returned to Barcelona, she’d talk to you. Really talk. She wasn’t going to let this connection slip away, not after everything that had happened between you.

She glanced at the clock again, the soft ticking of the seconds filling the quiet room. It was Christmas now, and despite the miles between you, Alexia felt closer to you than she had in weeks. Smiling softly, she ran her fingers over the pendant one more time before closing her eyes, your words still lingering in her mind.

Merry Christmas.

Christmas with your family had been exactly what you needed. It had been cozy, familiar, and full of the warmth you'd missed while away in Spain. You'd spent a few extra days with them, catching up on lost time and letting yourself fully relax before heading back to reality. But after a while, the pull to reconnect with old friends had you itching to get out of the house.

It was Ona, of course, who suggested you stay in England a little longer after Christmas. "Why rush back?" she had said over FaceTime, her face lighting up at the idea. "We don’t have training for another few days, and you deserve some downtime with your friends. Take it."

You’d agreed, and soon you found yourself planning a few nights out with some of your old friends from the England team. That included Leah. The tension between you and her had lessened, especially after you had decided that a proper conversation was long overdue. There were still things to be said, things you couldn’t quite walk away from until they were fully resolved.

So, it was then that you found yourself out with a mix of friends from your past clubs, including Leah, Beth, and a few others. It was a relaxed evening at a familiar bar, drinks flowing and laughter filling the air. You weren’t overly worried about how it might look, knowing that everything with Leah was firmly in the past. But the conversation needed to happen, and tonight felt like the right time.

You and Leah stepped away from the group for a moment, moving to a quieter corner where you could talk privately. The noise of the bar created a bubble of privacy around you both as you began to speak.

"I’ve been meaning to say this for a while," Leah started, her voice soft but steady. "I’m sorry for how things ended between us. I know I didn’t handle things well, and it hurt you more than I realized at the time."

You nodded, appreciating her honesty. It wasn’t easy to dig into the past, but this conversation felt necessary. "It wasn’t easy for either of us," you admitted. "But I’m glad we’re talking about it now. I think we both needed this. I think it’s time for us to both let go of the past and move on with our lives."

Leah smiled, the tension between you dissolving as the conversation continued. It was nothing more than an honest exchange, two people clearing the air. But what you didn’t know was that in the background, someone else had unknowingly captured the moment on their phone.

Beth Mead had been recording a playful story for Instagram, filming some of the team dancing and enjoying the night out. In the background, just out of focus, you and Leah were caught in a seemingly intimate conversation, standing close as you talked quietly. It was innocent, but without context, the image could easily be misinterpreted.

Thousands of miles away, in the luxury of her hotel in Dubai, Alexia scrolled through her phone after a long day. The trip had been relaxing so far, a much-needed break from the intensity of the season, but her thoughts kept drifting back to you. She hadn’t heard much from you since before Christmas, and the uncertainty of where you stood with each other was gnawing at her.

Her thumb paused over an Instagram story from Beth Mead, recognizing several familiar faces in the crowd. She smiled at the sight of you laughing with your friends, but as the story continued to play, her heart dropped. In the background of the video, you and Leah were standing together, heads close, deep in conversation. The image of the two of you, smiling and looking comfortable with each other, sent a pang of jealousy straight through her.

She stared at the screen for a long moment, her mind racing. Were you getting back together with Leah? Had she misread everything between the two of you?

Without thinking, she grabbed her phone and opened her messages, typing out a quick message to Ona.

Ale: Hey, I saw something. Is Y/N back with Leah? They were together at a bar, looked... close. Just want to know.

The message sent, and Alexia sat there, biting her lip as she waited for a reply. The logical part of her knew she shouldn’t jump to conclusions, but the image from the story kept replaying in her mind. What if you were moving on with Leah? What if she had missed her chance?

It wasn’t long before her phone buzzed with Ona’s response:

Ona: It’s not my place to say anything, Ale, but trust me it’s not what you’re thinking. Just... give her time to explain when she’s ready.

Alexia stared at the message, her heart still unsettled. Ona’s words were somewhat reassuring, but they weren’t enough to silence the nagging doubt in her mind. She didn’t want to overstep, but the thought of losing you to Leah, especially after everything you and Alexia had shared, was hard to swallow.

Back in England, you were unaware of the storm brewing. The night had ended on a positive note, with you and Leah parting on good terms, both of you agreeing that the past was where it belonged. You felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You felt like you were finally in a place where you could move forward and you had in mind the person you wanted to do that with, hopefully.

It wasn’t until the next morning, when you checked your phone, that you noticed a missed call from Ona. Confused, you called her back immediately.

“Hey, what’s up?” you asked, leaning back against your bed, still feeling the contentment of last night’s resolution with Leah.

Ona’s voice was calm but cautious. “I just wanted to give you a heads-up. Alexia saw a video from last night of you and Leah. She asked if you were back together.”

Your stomach dropped. “What? No, we were just talking. Clearing the air.”

“I know,” Ona reassured you. “But the video doesn’t exactly show the context. You two were in the background, and I think Alexia got the wrong idea. Well actually I know she did.”

You groaned, running a hand through your hair. Of course, Alexia would see that. Of all the things to misinterpret... You could picture her in Dubai, overthinking everything, and the thought made your chest tighten.

“What should I do?” you asked, feeling the weight of the situation now settling over you.

“I didn’t tell her anything beyond that it wasn’t what she thought. But you might want to talk to her, explain things when you’re ready,” Ona suggested. "She’s over there worrying, Y/N. It’s not my business, but I can tell she’s thinking the worst, which I know isn’t fair to you. You both have baggage, and you haven’t worked this all out yet, you need to talk to each other. And properly Y/N."

You nodded, even though Ona couldn’t see you. “Yeah I know, I’m sorry I haven’t been great at doing that. I wanted to sort the Leah thing before I had that conversation with Ale but maybe I should have been a bit more open after the other night. I’ll talk to her. Thanks, Ona.”

After hanging up, you stared at your phone, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. You knew you needed to talk to Alexia, to clear up the misunderstanding. But a part of you also wondered, what did this mean for the two of you. If Alexia was bothered by you being seen with your ex that much surely that had to be a sign of something right. Before you let your head run too much with this, you got out of bed and joined you family for one of your final days before heading back to Barcelona.

Christmas Day passed quietly for Alexia, it was just her mother and sister with her in Dubai, which is all she really needed. It was a much-needed break from the whirlwind of her career, but her mind kept drifting back to you. The silver necklace with the wave pendant had become her constant companion since she found it in her bag and she hadn’t taken it off since she opened it mere minutes into Christmas Day.

She ran her fingers over the pendant absentmindedly as she prepared for the Globe Soccer Awards, where she would be picking up the Women’s Player of the Year award. It was an honour, something she had worked hard for, yet the excitement that usually accompanied such recognition felt muted by the unease sitting heavy in her chest.

Ever since she had seen that Instagram story of you and Leah, a knot of doubt had been tightening inside her. She kept replaying the image in her mind, how close you and Leah had seemed, how comfortable. It had been days since she’d seen it, but she hadn’t reached out to you. She wasn’t sure what to say. Ona’s message had reassured her slightly, but the doubt lingered. Especially as you also hadn’t reached out to her.

As she stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the elegant outfit she had chosen for the awards, Alexia glanced down at the necklace resting against her skin. The wave, a symbol you had described so thoughtfully, felt heavier now. She knew what it meant, how much care and thought had gone into your gift, but that only made the misunderstanding hurt more. If you and Leah were rekindling things, where did that leave you and her?

Later that night, under the glittering lights of the awards ceremony, Alexia was announced as the Women's Player of the Year. The room erupted in applause as she made her way to the stage, graciously accepting the award with a quiet smile. She gave a heartfelt speech, thanking her teammates, coaches, and family for their constant support, but even as she spoke, her thoughts were elsewhere, on you.

The night continued in a blur of congratulations and photographs, but Alexia’s mind remained clouded. By the time she returned to her hotel room, the weight of the day had caught up with her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, her phone buzzed with notifications, messages from friends, fans, and teammates congratulating her.

She opened Instagram, scrolling through the flood of posts from the ceremony. As she crafted her own post, thanking everyone for their support, she hesitated. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, and almost instinctively, she glanced down at the wave pendant resting against her chest. Without thinking too much, she typed a line from your note into part of the caption.

And finally Merry Christmas. Sometimes in life you need your wave to keep you steady, even when you don’t realise it.

It was a subtle nod to you, one that no one else would pick up on, but she knew you would.

Alexia posted the picture: a candid shot of her holding the award, smiling at the camera with her necklace peeking just slightly into view. That along with the end of the caption she hoped would be enough to show you what the gift and you meant to her. Well at least until the conversation could be had, if you wanted it still after the Christmas break.

Back in England, you scrolled through Instagram while waiting for your flight back to Spain. It had been a whirlwind few days, catching up with friends, clearing the air with Leah and now, you were finally heading back home. As you mindlessly flicked through your feed, Alexia’s post popped up.

You stopped, your breath catching in your throat as you read the caption. It was your words, changed slightly, but still the meaning you had written in the note attached to the necklace. The same words that carried all the meaning behind your gift, now reflected back at you in a public post for the world to see.

Your heart raced as you stared at the screen, wondering what this meant. Did Alexia understand the depth of your message? Did she feel the same way? Or was this her way of saying goodbye before you’d even had a chance to explain?

Without thinking, you opened your messages and hesitated before typing a quick text to Ona.

Did Alexia say anything to you about that post?

Ona responded almost immediately, as if she had been waiting for you to reach out.

She didn’t mention it to me, but I know she’s been thinking about you. You should talk to her.

Your fingers hovered over your phone as you debated what to do next. The conversation with Leah had cleared the air, but now you were left with a different kind of uncertainty, one that involved Alexia and the feelings that had grown between you. And whether you were really ready for that again.

Taking a deep breath, you opened a new message to Alexia, your heart pounding as you typed.

Hey, I saw your post. I think we should talk when you get back.

The next few days passed slowly as Alexia remained in Dubai, the distance between you both growing heavier with every passing moment. The wave pendant rested against her chest, a constant reminder of you. And as Christmas turned into the new year, the tension between you both, fuelled by misunderstandings, unspoken feelings and lack of communication, remained unresolved, waiting for the moment when you could finally have the conversation that had been building for so long.

[wonderjanga]

Warfare

You see, Marvel’s mentioned the Wisdom of Solomon before. The JL never really thought much about it. As a result, the JL just thinks Marvel has all these… interesting ideas but just never says anything about them. Though, there are a couple times the ideas are actually voiced. (They don’t know Billy is just parroting whatever Solomon or occasionally another God with tell him)

Like the time Batman and Marvel got stranded on a planet that was stuck in the middle of war. They were promised

Rebel Leader: “Do either of you have any ideas to bring to the table?”

Batman: “No. Marvel?”

Marvel: “Huh? Oh uh… well I could magic a plague into the water near them. You said they’re using it for their water source, right? Then, when they’re weak, we can go around and take them out.” *sounds hesitant*

Batman: “Hmm… That could be a good idea, but what sort of plague are we talking about?”

Marvel: “Cholera.”

Batman: “What.”

Marvel: “Cholera.”

Batman: “Marvel, that’s fatal.”

Marvel: “Oh.”

Batman: “Yeah.”

*silence*

Marvel: “Well, if we’re quick, it we can get to them before they die.”

Batman: *stares for a bit, holding back a sigh* “We don’t even know if Cholera will affect their biology the same way it does humans.”

Rebel Leader: “What is this Cholera?”

Batman: “It’s a deadly waterborne disease.”

Rebel Leader: “I see… And you’re unsure whether it will work with our physiology… might I propose a different disease?”

So yes, biological warfare, that’s our first thing. Batman proceeded to spend a lot of time convincing the Rebel Leader not to nearly kill an entire group of people with their version of Cholera.

Then there was the time Bruce and Marvel were working together and got held up in a shootout at a lab.

Marvel: *looking at the various chemicals in the lab* “Gosh, I remember my first exposure to chlorine gas.” *getting nostalgic* (He’s from the 1940s in this one, guys)

Batman: “You’ve been exposed to chlorine gas?”

Marvel: “Yeah, and let me tell you, those dang Nazis were horrified when it didn’t work on me. Don’t worry though, we’re gonna be making mustard gas instead.”

Batman: “Captain, we are not doing that.”

Marvel: “Why? We have all the available ingredients.”

Batman: “Marvel.” *puts a hand on his shoulder* “Mustard gas can be fatal.”

Marvel: “Oh.”

Batman: “Yeah.”

*silence*

Marvel: “My bad.”

*more silence*

Batman: “Is this why you always let others plan?”

Marvel: “Are you gonna look at me weird if I say yes?”

Batman: “Hn.” (Translation: Yes, but it won’t be visible through my cowl)

This incident checks chemical warfare off the list. Bruce is now concerned as to why most of Marvel’s ideas are either nearly fatal or just fatal.

Then there was the time Marvel went undercover with Bruce Wayne, not Batman for whatever reason. They then got attacked by pirates while on a ship trying to gather information about some supervillain.

Bruce and Marvel: *taken cover under a table while the pirates fire cannon balls at them*

Bruce: “Any ideas?” *peaks over the cover only for a cannonball to whiz right past his head*

Marvel: “I think I have one. So here’s what I’m thinking. I take out their mast, steal all their oars, and then push them out to sea and let them drift wherever.

Bruce: “That’s… Intense. Wouldn’t they starve if you just let them drift?”

Marvel: “I guess. If they’re not saved, I mean.”

Bruce: *stares with the most deadpan face* “How about I come up with a plan instead?”

Marvel: “You got it boss.”

And last but not least, the physical warfare.

By the way, Billy doesn’t know Bruce is the Bat. No, no, no, he just thinks the guy is someone Batman wants him to work with. He was a little surprised to see the dude act all brooding like Mr. Batman when he had heard from others that he was a party boy. Oh well, not his business. Meanwhile, Bruce doesn’t know Marvel thinks he’s just interacting with a capable civilian.

That last part was inspired by @helps-the-writing-brain-go’s reblog of this post. Thanks for letting me write with your idea :)

[hoe4hotchner]

Hi!! If you still take requests could I request Hotch helping a fellow bau member after she tried to hide her ocd from him (like intrusive thoughts, counting and blinking hard etc not cleaning or contamination ocd)

Thanks! xoxo 🧡🧡

Blink twice, tap four times, hold your breath and count to six | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x bau!gn!Reader | WC: 0.5k  | CW: OCD | Summary: Hotch reasures reader when he notices their OCD being a little more frequent than usual |

You were certain you’d been subtle about it, always careful to keep your mind’s demands invisible. Blinking patterns, counting in repetitive loops, moving your fingers until they felt “right” — these things were all in the quiet spaces, hidden behind closed doors and the shuffle of paperwork. Or so you thought.

But Hotch was observant, maybe too observant for your own good. It started with small things: his brow creasing when you tapped your fingers on the table during briefings, his quiet gaze following when you seemed lost in thought, counting silently to bring calm. You brushed it off, certain he was just being his usual analytical self, until the day his concern broke through the usual boundaries he had set for himself.

It was late, everyone else had gone home for the night. You’d been poring over files, a trail of cold coffee cups beside you, trying to distract yourself from the prickling anxiety that had settled in your mind since a particularly tough case. Then it happened again — blink twice, tap four times, hold your breath and count to six, over and over. You weren’t sure how long you’d been repeating it, but when you looked up, Hotch was standing in the doorway to the conference room — You sometimes worked on your files in there to keep your mind on track.

“Can I come in?” he asked gently.

You cleared your throat, swallowing the reflexive answer to brush him off. “Of course.”

He entered, closing the door behind him, the soft click echoing in the quiet room. You half-expected a reprimand, a reminder to go home and rest, but his gaze was unusually soft, something between empathy and understanding.

“I noticed you’ve been… distracted lately,” he began, his words careful. “More than usual.”

The confession sat on the edge of your tongue, bitter and unwelcome. “It’s nothing. I just get… caught up sometimes.”

He nodded slowly as if weighing your answer. “We all have our patterns,” he said, his voice low and calm. “But if they’re weighing on you, you don’t have to hide them. Not from me.”

The words caught you off-guard. Your heart pounded, the intrusive thoughts flaring up in response to his kindness, an immediate discomfort in your chest at the vulnerability.

“Hotch, I don’t want anyone to think… that I can’t handle this.” The admission tumbled out, quieter than you’d intended. “Sometimes, my brain… it gets stuck in loops. It makes me repeat things to feel okay.”

He nodded as though he’d known it all along. “You’re one of the most resilient agents I know. But you don’t have to manage all of this alone.” He took a seat beside you, close enough that you could feel his presence. “If something is weighing on you, I want you to tell me. I can help.”

There was a soothing rhythm to his words, one that almost matched the way you counted, but softer and kinder. You swallowed, fighting the wave of embarrassment that rose at the idea of admitting everything. But his hand, warm and steady, rested on yours.

“I don’t think less of you,” he continued his voice barely a murmur. “In fact, I have more respect for you than you realize. What you’re dealing with doesn’t make you weak — it shows your strength.”

You closed your eyes, letting his words settle in your mind like stones sinking to the bottom of a pond.

“Thank you,” you whispered, the words carrying all the gratitude you hadn’t known you were holding.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 10

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

“Come on, doll,” Barnes takes your hand and leads you across the room. You follow as you will for the rest of your life; obediently. 

His grip is like a vice as he guides you through the hall and down the stairs. Silence meets you at the bottom as your sisters no doubt hear the descent. Yet he doesn’t let you go nor make a move to leave. Instead, he brings you into the front room. 

He squeezes your hand, pressing the large ring into your finger, and releases you. He steps forward as Kitty turns away from the window and Adrienne stands from the sofa. He commands any room he enters and you don’t think you’ll ever be used to that. 

“Sisters,” he declares brightly, “that is what I will call you from now on.” 

He goes first to Kitty and places a kiss on her cheek, then does the same to Adrienne. Each watch him in confusion. You stare blankly. 

“And you can call me brother and ask for anything and everything you need,” he says. 

“Sir,” Kitty moves towards your younger sister. 

“I ask discretion for the time being as I tie up a few loose ends,” Barnes explains. “And we get you all settled where you need to be.” 

Your sisters blink at you then each other. You can’t say it out loud. That makes it real. 

Barnes turns on his heel, “speaking of loose ends, I should go.” 

He comes towards you and takes your hand again. He raises it, certain to show off the glaring diamond, and kisses it. The gesture makes your blood run cold. It is a statement. It isn’t the same as when you kiss his ring, it isn’t deference, no it is a show of ownership. 

“Have a good night,” you say at last. 

He pulls back and lowers your hand. He grins, “it’s already spectacular, doll.” 

He lets you go and steps past you. You stand, stuck in place, as he leaves. The door opens and closes, the hinges jarring you into motion. You go to lock it behind him and Kitty calls your name. 

“What’s going on?” She appears in the doorway. 

You take a breath before you face her. You shrug. Adrienne scrambles around her and snatches your hand. 

“Oh my god, it’s huge.” 

“Stop,” you try to tug your hand back. 

“You’re marrying him?” Kitty’s voice deflates by the last syllable. “Why?” 

You look between them. You can tell one sliver of the truth. “To keep us safe.” 

“Us? We’ll be fine. Barnes says we get an inheritance, we get houses, money--” 

“And then what? It’s not enough to last forever,” you argue. “Even if we can find work, we’ll never make enough to keep that. How long did you work at the yogurt shop before daddy threatened to burn it down? And I have about a week’s experience down at the diner.” 

“We can start now--” 

“We can start now and never reach the finish line,” you insist. “Kitty, you know who daddy was. You sat there and watched what they did to that man today. This isn’t a life you walk away from, even if he’s dead.” 

Adrienne sniffles. She’s on the edge of tears again. 

“So, you do it over? Marry another one? Go through it again?” Kitty challenges. 

“He can make sure that neither of you have to--” 

“We don’t need you to be our martyr,” Kitty argues. 

“I’m not--” you seal your lips and sigh. You wish you could tell her. You wish you could say I shot that fuck and he deserved it because you know she would have loved to do the same thing. Yet, saying it out loud means admitting that you’re all trapped for that moment of vengeance. “Kitty, how much choice do you think he gave me?” 

She stares at you. She knows exactly how it works. There is no asking with these men. 

“We could all go. Disappear.” 

“And they wouldn’t find us? How far could we get, really?” 

“Not far,” Adrienne pipes in. “Kitty, would you rather daddy still be here?” 

Your older sister is silent as her jaw squares. 

“I could marry instead. Maybe not Barnes but someone else. It shouldn’t be you. I’m the oldest--” 

“It is me,” you say, “and it could be any one of us but this is how it is. It’s... not the worst.” 

“It’s not?” Kitty says. “That man stood and ordered another beaten to death. He didn’t flinch.” 

“I know,” you say. 

“No, you don’t know,” Kitty insists, “you can’t be sure that he isn’t like daddy.” 

She’s right. Barnes might have helped vanquish the monster but it can’t erase his own misdeeds. Yet, you asked for all of this. You went there in the middle of the night and sold your soul. You could excuse yourself with naivete, but you deserve more to be branded by it. 

“If it keeps you two from men like daddy--” 

“Stop,” Kitty grabs you by the shoulders. “None of us deserve it.” 

“You stop,” you wrap your fingers calmly around her forearms and peel her hold off of you. “Should I go hand that man his ring back or do you want do it for me?” 

She untangles her wrists from your grasp and recoils. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes up against the threat of tears. She stamps her foot in frustration. 

“You tell me,” she points her finger at you. You’re almost stunned by the fire in her voice and face. Kitty is the sweet one, she’s gentle, but she has your mother’s quiet strength. “You tell me if he ever puts a bruise on you. You fucking tell me.” 

“Kitty,” you murmur. 

Adrienne covers her mouth and watches, swept up in the fraught emotion of it all. 

“No, because I spent a lifetime watching you two cry over that beast we called a father,” she snarls. “I will not waste the rest of my life doing the same. I thought—I thought we were free. I wanted us to be free.” She curls her lip and exhales heavily. “So, you will not lie to me again. And I will know. I will see right through him so you don’t even try to cover it up. One bruise...” she wags her finger then throw up both her hands with a frustrated growl. “I sound like him.” She turns and drags her feet to the stairs. She sits on one and hangs her head. “I sound like daddy. I’m just so... tired.” 

You look at Adrienne and reach for her. She gives you her hand. You bring her over to Kitty and touch your elder sister’s shoulder. She looks up through sparkling eyes. 

“You will know. We will all know. We are sisters and this doesn’t change that,” you say. “We stick together, no matter what.” 

“Oh, we will,” Kitty insists, “I will be at your damn house every day and I will look at that man and I will see all the cracks. Trust me you. He will not take you from us.” 

“Kitty, Ade,” you look from one to the other, “no one can take us from each other. If daddy did one thing, it was making sure of that.” 

[itsonlyjoseph]

Make Me Bleed || Eddie Munson x Reader

Synopsis: Y/N wants to find a way to thank Eddie

Warnings: some angst

Word count: 4.3k

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Part 1

You had been trying to wrap your head around the interaction with Eddie all day, the next day. You hadn’t yet listened to the Walkman Eddie gave you or the tape he left with it.

You wanted to, but you were nervous. Nervous for what exactly, you weren’t sure. But nervous nonetheless. At school, you had planned to leave a note in Eddie’s locker, asking to speak privately with him. You were going to say thank you for replacing your Walkman but that you needed to know why he hated you so much. But he wasn’t at school. Again.

You wanted to ask Eddie’s friends but they were even scarier than he was so that was out of the question.

You decided to cut your losses and just forget out it until you saw him.

Later that day, after school, you were laying on her bed, curled up like a fetus with your headphones over your ears and Eddie’s Walkman sitting next to you.

You were listening to the tape he gave you as well.

It definitely wasn’t your kind of music, but in a weird you kind of liked it. Kind of like Eddie. He was the same. You just couldn’t bring yourself to hate him.

By the time Saturday came around, you hadn’t seen Eddie in a few days.

You knew that he played guitar in a heavy metal band because gossip flew around the school like crazy, plus you’d seen him carrying a guitar case out of the Hideout once.

You were probably way out of line but you decided to best course of action was to go watch him play tonight and then hope to speak to him afterwards. It was probably a bad idea for many reasons. You had no idea if Eddie would even give you the time of day and the bar was pretty sketchy on a good day.

It almost 9 pm when you decided to get ready and cycle over. You didn’t really dress up. This was just meant to be a conversation and a quick thank you for the Walkman. Nothing else.

You’d arrived at bar almost 40 minutes later. The street was dark and dungy and there were some questionable people around. Most older, tatted biker dudes and a plenty of old groupies that would have been beautiful 25 years ago.

Walking in, the air was stale and smokey, making it hard to see and navigate around. The bar was decently packed as well. After all, the Hideout was the only bar in town that allowed all kinds of people in. It definitely didn’t discriminate the way some of the nicer cocktail bars in town did.

You stuck out like a sore thumb. It was obvious you didn’t belong here and it was obvious that your anxiety levels were through the roof.

You saw the stage. It was small and covered in carpet and had a lonely drum set and amps and guitar stands but no band members. You had no idea if Eddie even played on Saturdays but you figured you’d take your chances since the last time you saw him outside the bar, was a Saturday.

You excused yourself to no one in particular and tried to find the bathroom to freshen up and try to loosen your mind.

It was covered in graffiti and stickers and the mirrors were cracked but it offered some muffled silence. Looking in the mirror, your anxiety’s were sky rocketing. You didn’t dress like the people here or do your hair and makeup like them. You looked like a sheep amongst wolves, and it felt like they were waiting to tear you apart.

Walking back out into the main bar area, you decided to just go home. You’d never felt more out of place and suddenly your plan was sounding more and more stupid.

As you walked out towards the front door, you noticed that the band was making their way onto the stage. Eddie’s curly hair caught your eye and you stopped in your tracks. He wasn’t smiling or anything but he seemed for relaxed that usual. He seemed at peace.

The band started playing and Eddie lost himself in the music. And he was good. Very good. He was so good that he probably could’ve been a professional or famous.

They played several more songs as the night wore on and granted, it wasn’t your kind of music but you couldn’t pull your eyes away from him. His bangs stuck to his forehead and his arms glistened with sweat.

It was making you question why you came here.

It almost 2 am when they finish up their set. You didn’t realise just how much time had passed until you looked at your wristwatch. The crowd cheered as the band members made their way off the stage.

Now that the prospect of talking to Eddie was getting closer, you decided to test your luck at bar and order a shot just to calm yourself. You hadn’t really ever had alcohol besides a few sips of your dad’s beer and half a wine at Christmas.

“What’ll it be?” The bartender asked. He could probably tell you were underage just from your body language but something told you this wasn’t the establishment that cared too much.

“Uh, just a shot of… uh..” you tried to squint your eyes at the shelf behind him. “Uh, that one.” You said pointing to a miscellaneous bottle of clear liquid.

The bartender chuckled humourlessly before grabbing the bottle and pouring a shot to place in front of you.

“Here, first one’s on the house.”

“Oh, well then I want another.” You said, quickly downing the shot. It burned more than you thought it would and tasted terrible.

You slapped a five dollar bill on the bar and downed the second shot. That one burned even more than the first one.

Considering you’d never really had alcohol before, definitely not like that, you felt a little dizzy. And hot. This wasn’t a nice feeling and why people actually did this for fun, you didn’t understand.

You saw Eddie’s mop of hair walked over to him. He was turned to you, chatting to someone with a beer in his hand when you tapped his shoulder. Eddie turned, ready to tell whoever to fuck off. He didn’t expect to turn around and see you standing before him.

“Y/N?” Eddie muttered, confused to see you.

Before you could open your mouth to speak, Eddie’s large hand gripped around your elbow and yanked you into the hallway that lead to the bathroom. It was significantly quieter with far less people.

“What the hell are you doing here? This isn’t the kind of place you should be.” He said, clearly frustrated.

“Uh, I wanted to see you.” You mumbled, looking up at him with wide eyes.

Eddie paused for a moment.

“Why?” He questioned.

“I wanted to speak to you. I-I didn’t really get a chance to say thank you for apologising and for-for the Walkman.”

“Yeah, well you just did so leave.” He huffed.

“Why did you? You didn’t have to give that to me. I was gonna save up for a new one.”

It almost seemed like Eddie didn’t know what to say. Like he didn’t know the answer himself.

“Thank you, though.” You said. You figured Eddie wouldn’t say anything else.

“That’s the only reason you came here?” He asked and you nodded.

“Uh, I guess I’ll go now. You played really great. I recognised some songs from that tape you gave me.”

As you turned to leave, Eddie called out to you one more time.

“You don’t have a car.” He said to which you simply shook your head. “So you rode that bike here?”

You said nothing.

“You can’t ride your bike home at this hour. Especially not in this part of town.”

You hadn’t thought about that but he was right. Biking home after work was scary enough, let alone at almost 3 am.

“Oh, uh, I’ll be okay. I can’t really call my dad. He’d kill me if he knew I was here.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“It’s okay Eddie, you should stay with your friends.”

“No, I’ll drive you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

What Eddie had said made your tummy drop. You didn’t really know if he meant here or just in general but you chose not to question it.

You followed Eddie out to the parking lot. It was still warm enough and there was a light breeze in the air.

Eddie drove a van, you knew that much.

“Wait, I thought your uncle said you lost your license again?”

“Like that’s ever stopped me.” Eddie mumbled, opening the passenger door for you.

Once you were sat in the van, Eddie stopped and looked at you. “Listen, just stay here for a sec. I need to get my guitar and then I’ll take you home. Okay?”

“Okay.” You smiled softly. He didn’t return it.

Eddie walked off, back inside the bar and you sat back, taking a breath.

The alcohol was wearing off and the fatigue was setting in. You never stay up this late and felt your eyelids getting heavier and heavier until you drifted off into a relaxing slumber.

Eddie returned moments later and loaded his guitar into the back of the van, making his way into the drivers seat.

“Okay, so where do you li-“ Eddie began to say but stopped himself when he saw your eyes closed and your lashes gently resting against your cheeks. Gentle snores were coming from your mouth and Eddie couldn’t bring himself to wake you up.

He didn’t have enough gas to just drive around until you woke up and he didn’t want to sleep in the van so he did the only thing he could think of.

He took you to his place.

He wasn’t sure how you’d react when you woke up in the morning but he’d try his best to not scare you off.

It wasn’t long until he pulled up to the trailer park, parking next to Wayne’s truck.

Eddie opened the passenger door and took a deep breath, hoping you could chew him out later. He unclipped your seatbelt and picked you up bridal style, carrying you up the steps and into the unlocked trailer.

Wayne was inside, snoozing on the couch. He didn’t work weekends and took that as an opportunity to actually sleep at nighttime.

Eddie carried you down the hallway and into his bedroom, careful not to hit your head on the door frame, and gently placed you down on his unmade bed.

You unconsciously curled up into the pillow as your mouth fell open, those gentle snores coming back. Eddie looked down at you and sighed. He really was sorry for all the things he’s said to over the years. He probably didn’t mean them. Or maybe he did and he’s just a terrible person. It wouldn’t surprise him. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree after all.

Eddie knew that it wouldn’t be right to sleep in the bed next to you, especially without your knowledge, so he wondered over to his desk and sat down. He probably would’ve slept on the couch if Wayne wasn’t out there. Eddie felt his eyes getting heavier and heavier until he laid his head down on the desk and drifted off to sleep. Luckily for him, it wasn’t the comfiest sleeping position so he was tossing and turning all night, meaning he woke up before you when the sun was out.

He lifted his head with a groan, his neck feeling much tighter than the night before.

Eddie turned and looked over at you, laying in his bed sound asleep. You looked so peaceful and calm to him. His mind once again went to all the nasty things he’s ever said and done to you over the years.

He got from his desk and left the bedroom. Wayne was up when Eddie got into the kitchen. Making a cup of coffee, ready to head out to the porch for his morning cigarette.

“What’s wrong with you?” Wayne mused when he saw the tired, stiff look on Eddie’s face.

“Didn’t sleep good.” He mumbled.

“Why not?”

“Because my bed is occupied.” He deadpanned, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Wayne stopped what he was doing and turned slightly to look at the back of Eddie’s head.

“By who?”

“Just a girl from school.”

Wayne’s eyebrows raised as he turned fully to face Eddie. Eddie has never mentioned a girl before and has never even mentioned being interested in one.

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Eddie huffed, angrily.

Wayne put his hands up in mock surrender at Eddie’s abrasiveness. “Okay, okay, just make sure you’re being safe.”

“It’s not like that!” Eddie raised his voice. Wayne knew Eddie had a bit of an anger problem. He inherited that from his father. He also knew that Eddie had trouble expressing his emotions.

“Then… what’s it like?” Wayne pressed, curious.

“It’s like… I don’t know! It’s not like anything!”

“Okay, Eddie.” Wayne said, walking to the front door as Eddie went back to his bedroom.

Sometime during the night, Eddie managed to remove his shirt. The trailer was always so hot at night that it was almost impossible to sleep in clothes unless it was winter time.

He didn’t have the heart to wake you up just yet, enjoying this foreign feeling of peace for the moment. He opened up his window and sat under it, at the end of the bed. Leaning against the wall, he lit a cigarette and felt the breeze from outside float through his hair.

Eddie was half way through his cigarette when you began to stir in your sleep. He looked over and saw your eyes opening gently. And he got nervous. Would you yell at him for bringing you here?

“What time is it?” Your gentle sleep filled voice the room, breaking him from his thoughts.

“Uh, around 7.”

“I guess I fell asleep before you could take me home.” You mumbled sheepishly.

“Yeah, I, uh, didn’t wanna’ wake you.” Eddie stubbed out his cigarette.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“I bombarded you at your hang out spot and then took up the rest of your night.” You muttered.

“It’s okay.”

“You seemed… mad that I was there.”

“I just didn’t expect to see you in a place like that.”

“It wasn’t so bad.”

Eddie huffed, as if the laugh humourlessly. “Full of bad people, though.” Eddie looked up at you and suddenly liked the way you looked sitting in his bed with messy hair and sleep in your eyes. “Why do you think I’m there?” He tried to joke. Key word being tried.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person, Eddie.” You said softly.

“You’d be the first.” He mumbled so quietly you barely even heard it.

You moved out of the bed to sit on top of the covers, only a few feet of space between you and Eddie.

“Actually, there was another reason I came to see you last night.”

Eddie looked up from his hands when you moved closer.

“I wanted to ask you… why don’t you like me? What did I do?” You asked and Eddie saw the saddest in your eyes.

Eddie let out a shallow breath and looked down at his hands again.

“I don’t know.” He said softly.

You gulped and felt a pit in your stomach at that.

“Oh, um… did I do anything?”

“You’re happy… have a good dad.” Eddie was ashamed but he didn’t want to lie.

“Ya know Eddie, despite what Principle Higgins said to you, that doesn’t have to be your life. You could do anything.”

“Yeah like what?” Eddie spoke at a normal volume this time, his voice holding a frustrated edge. “Go off and be a doctor or a lawyer and marry some girl from the right side of town, have a bunch kids with a white picket fence? Huh?” Eddie was getting angrier now. He’d rose off the bed and was standing now. “You think there’s anything in the cards for me that’s not prison or something very similar?”

As Eddie paced around his bedroom, spitting out horrible things about himself, you suddenly realised why Eddie was the way he was. He was scared. He was scared because he knew what his life would be. He knew that his fathers influenced affected him. He needed someone to tell him that he wasn’t his father. He didn’t someone to care about.

“Ugh!” Eddie huffed and growled, frustrated. He drug his palms into his eyes and gripped the hair at his hairline.

You got up from the bed and walked over the Eddie, gripping his wrists gently and pulling them from his eyes. He flinched slightly at the contact.

“It’s okay, Eddie. You don’t know how your life is gonna turn out. It doesn’t have to be like that.” You said softly as you looked up at him.

Eddie stared down at you with his eyebrows furrowed. His expression was once again unreadable but he didn’t try to remove his wrists from your hands. He opened his mouth and closed it a few times, not knowing what to say so he just kept staring at you.

Suddenly, a gentle knock came, breaking you both out of each others gaze.

“Eddie, I’m g- oh Y/N, hi.” Wayne said, opening the Eddie’s bedroom door. Look on his face showed that he was confused by the situation.

“Hi Wayne.” You smiled sweetly at him.

“Uh, I’m heading into town so I’ll be back later. Do you two need anything?” Wayne asked. He couldn’t help the smile on his face. He figured his nephew was probably gonna start dating or hooking up with people soon if not already. He was a teenager after all. With Eddie’s personality and attitude, Wayne was nervous that the first girl he picked up would be some easy bimbo that would wind up pregnant and he’d be a teen dad, so when Wayne saw that it was you standing in Eddie bedroom with him, he was elated.

“Okay.” Eddie answered him, his face hard.

“Nice to see you, sweetheart.” Wayne nodded at you, closing the door.

“Listen, Y/N, you don’t have to waste your breath on me. I know what’s gonna happen to me and so do you. Just drop it.” Eddie moved to sit on the edge of the bed, finally breaking away from your grip. “Besides, girls like you shouldn’t hang around with guys like me.”

“I wouldn’t be saying this if I didn’t believe it, Eddie. I really believe you can do anything.” You said, sitting beside him on the bed. You were closer than you’d ever been.

“I don’t deserve it.”

“Yes you do.” You reaffirmed as you took his hand. Eddie had never really felt his close to someone before. It made his spine tingle. The physical contact, plus the words of affirmation made him feel things he didn’t like. “You deserve everything.”

“I don’t deserve you.” Eddie mumbled, looking right at you.

Tingles ran down your spine at his words. You were confused. You thought he didn’t like you.

“Do you-do you want me?” You were scared of the answer but wanted to know so badly.

Eddie huffed. “Doesn’t matter.”

Before you could respond or even process what he has said, Eddie stood up and walked to the door.

“I’ll get your bike out of my van.”

Once you were alone, you breathed deeper than you has all morning. You wanted to know what Eddie meant but you didn’t want to push him or annoy him.

You walked out of Eddie’s trailer to see your bike leaning against the steps and Eddie’s van gone, him nowhere in sight.

You cycled home and felt conflicted. What did Eddie mean? Did he hate you or not? Did he want you like that? Did you want him like that?

When you got home, your dad was out in the garage, working on his car. You ditched your bike near the garage door and walked up to him.

“Hey dad, what are you doing?” You asked.

“Oh, hi pet. Where were you last night?” You dad said as he looked up.

“With a friend.” You offered.

“Oh, okay. I’m just trying to fix this damn timing belt.” He chuckled.

You gulped. “Dad, can I ask you something.”

“Yeah, what’s up?” He asked without looking away from the cars engine.

“It’s about a boy.” You mumbled. That made your dad look up.

“What about it?”

“Well, this guy at school. Everyone seems to think he’s a bad person and honestly, I kind of did to for a while but lately I’ve seen a different side to him. I know he’s a good person, he’s just trouble and didn’t have a great upbringing. How am I supposed to make him see that he’s not the loser he thinks he is?”

“Hm. That’s a lot to take in. Why is this boy so important? Maybe he really is a loser.”

“He’s not. He’s actually really talented and I can tell that there’s more to him than he shows people. I think he just needs someone to depend on.”

“Who is this boy, anyway?” Your dad asked.

“Uh, It’s Eddie Munson.”

Your father looked at you with a worried look on his face.

“Petal, I don’t think I like the idea of you hanging around that Munson boy. I knew his father-“

“But that’s the thing, dad” you cut him off. “I know that Eddie’s nothing like his dad. People have told him that he’d be nothing, just like his dad his whole life and I know that it’s not true.”

Your dad took in your words and thought for a moment. It’s true that he knew Eddie’s dad back in high school and saw what a trouble maker he was and the petty criminal he turned out to be. But he also knew that you didn’t chose where you came from and that you were a smart girl.

“Okay, sweetie. If you think so. I know you’ll make the right choice

“I hope so”

“All you can do is be there for him. Show him you won’t leave and show him that he matters.”

“Thanks dad.”

“You’re a kid, Y/N. I’m lucky to have you.”

“I’m lucky to have you as my dad.” You smiled up at him.

“Get outta’ here.” He chucked.

You smiled and ran upstairs to your room. You wanted to go and find Eddie and tell him that you’d be there for him and that he deserved happiness as much as anyone else but you had no idea where he went and you didn’t have his number.

Tomorrow was Monday and Monday meant school. You hoped that Eddie would be there so you talk to him again.

That night you went to sleep with a heavy heart and your tummy in knots and in the morning you spent a little extra time in front of the mirror. You brushed out your hair and applied your makeup and picked your outfit just a little bit more careful than usual.

At school, the hallway was crowded as you hung around Eddie’s locker. You didn’t actually know if he went to it often or not but this was your only option right now. When the hallways emptied after the final bell, you made your way over.

Last night, you had written a note to slip into Eddie’s locker.

‘Eddie, meet me at the picnic table in the woods after school - Y/N’

6 and half hours later, you were sat in the woods, alone, hoping that Eddie would show up.

Your palms were sweating and your knee was bouncing. You kept taking deep breaths, trying to calm yourself. You hadn’t really thought about what you would say if Eddie showed up.

“Hey.” You heard a low grumbled behind you.

You turned quietly to be met with Eddie’s hard face.

He slowly walked over to the other side of the table and sat down, dumping his jacket on the old wood.

“Why’d you call me out here?” He asked.

“I wanted to talk. Talk about what you said yesterday in your room.”

“Y/N, just forget about it-“

“I like it when you say my name.” You cut him off, looking down.

Eddie didn’t really know how to respond to that. All of yesterday afternoon, his thoughts were plagued with you. The way you were so kind to after he’d been awful to you. You way your hand felt over his. The way his spine tingled when he remembered Wayne called you his girlfriend. He’d never felt like this before.

“I know you don’t believe me, but I really did mean it when I said you can do anything.” You smiled.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” He asked.

“Because I can see that you’re a good person under that hard shell. And I want you to know that I… I guess I care.”

“You care about me?”

“Yeah, I do.”

You took a deep breath and rose from the bench, walking around and sitting down besides Eddie.

“When you said you didn’t deserve me, what did you mean?” You whispered.

“Y/N..”

“Please tell me.”

“I don’t want to drag you down with me. I don’t want to hurt you anymore. No matter how much I want to be near you, I can’t.” He whispered back.

“You won’t drag me down, Eddie.”

“I drag everyone down, Y/N.”

“I’m not everyone.”

Eddie’s eyes glazed over like he was lost in thought as he stared into your eyes. He’d seen plenty of attractive women in his time. At school, at The Hideout, on the street. None of them looked back at him the way you were right now.

“Eddie…” you whispered, scooting closer. “Kiss me.”

[beanarie]

inspired by this post by @monstream theorizing that tommy will pop back up in a couple months and reveal he dipped out like his ass was on fire because he got a cancer diagnosis. (be advised: this is not about real cancer. this is tv cancer.) 1300 words.

a chance encounter

Bobby still has a blood donation appointment at First Presbyterian every two months, which he attends religiously, barring exemptions like the six months he had to skip after the heart attack. Years ago, when it started, Chimney arranged a rotation for rides, and as their team went through staffing changes, it settled to a more informal thing, whichever of them would be available verbally stepping up each time. Athena would have been the logical choice with one of the 118 as backup, but this is theirs. Buck likes it because usually he and Bobby stop for a meal and catch up, just the two of them.

On their way to the elevators, they hear applause in the next wing over, and Bobby gives Buck a little smile before they join the gathering at the back of the small crowd. He loves a bell ceremony.

A teen girl in a green hoodie that reaches her knees is blushing and stumbling over her words, flustered by the attention. "Anyway," she says, "I'm not gonna be sick at prom and I'm so effing excited." She rings the bell and pumps a fist in the air before hugging one of the nurses.

"All right," says a blonde woman holding a clipboard. "We have three more patients who completed treatment! I know, right? It's been a good week."

Buck looks down at the coffee he grabbed from the on-site cafe while Bobby was getting drained, which tastes different somehow but he can't put his finger on it. Soy milk, maybe? A sharp nudge forces him to look up into Bobby's suddenly tense expression.

"Well. So... yeah. These last few months have sucked."

Buck swings his head around and Bobby grabs the coffee out of his hand. There, acknowledging a round of polite laughter, is Tommy, dressed in a henley and flannel shirt, all in shades of blue. Buck always liked him in blue. He looks slimmer, more like the version of himself from Chim and Hen's old team photos. He's wearing a Raiders hat.

"I knew, as a firefighter who flew helicopters, that I probably didn't have the highest life expectancy. But this diagnosis still threw me for a loop."

Buck should not be here. He should not be here. But he can't convince his feet to move.

"I did some dumb things, isolated myself, assumed the worst. It was the staff here who kept--gently--smacking me upside the head, reminding me that there was still hope." Tommy ducks his head and when he looks up eyes are bright. "Thank God for them."

Buck feels like he is stuck in a column of rapidly curing cement. It started down at his feet and now his lungs won't inflate.

"Buck," Bobby hisses, tugging at his sleeve.

"Bug your city council rep to increase compensation for healthcare workers because there's no way they get paid enough to deal with my bullshit." A cluster of small children at the front of the group starts howling at the swear, and he grins, unrepentant. Buck might be drowning. "Thank you, everyone. Fuck cancer." He rings the bell and steps back quickly for the next patient, accepting good-natured pummeling from several members of the staff as everyone applauds.

The smile that settled on Tommy's face vanishes as their eyes meet. The column of cement also vanishes. Breathing hard, his pulse hammering in his ears, Buck follows Bobby down the hall to the elevators.

"Buck?"

It still sounds so wrong coming from him. Buck flinches and looks at the slowly progressing display of which floor the elevator is on. Stairs it is. "I'll meet you down there," he says to Bobby, and doesn't wait for a response.

Buck plows through the door to the stairwell, moving as quickly as possible.

"Wait! Please? I can follow for a little bit, but fourteen flights of stairs is beyond me at the moment."

Buck slows his progress down, stopping at the next landing.

"What-" Tommy takes the stairs slowly, one by one. "What are you doing here? How did you find out?"

Buck glances up. "I didn't. We just happened to be in the neighborhood. This place is our home away from home, you know?"

"Oh," Tommy says, then has the nerve to look concerned. "Is everyone okay?"

"I'm not fucking okay. Did you know you were sick?"

"When?" he temporizes. "I mean, they did tell me at one point."

"You know when," Buck says, seething, his vision growing redder when Tommy doesn't answer. "I asked you to move in with me." I was all in. You didn't have to do this alone.

Tommy finishes the last few steps and joins him on the landing. "You asked your gym rat firefighter boyfriend to move in with you. Not an unemployed puke machine with a thirty-nine percent chance of kicking it in the next five years."

"Oh my God." Buck laughs, wanting to scream at the wall. "So I'm not a newborn bisexual who couldn't possibly know what I want, I'm just a piece of shit who would drop a partner for getting sick. Or maybe I'm both."

"No, I-"

"If you say 'it wasn't you, it was me' I'm gonna start taking these steps three at a time."

"It was-" Up close, Tommy looks tired. There are lines in his face that weren't there before. "Significantly more about me and my trust issues than it was about you. Is that different enough for you to stick around?"

"You gave me trust issues, Tommy. Not just in you, or other people I might date, but in myself."

Tommy's expression is gutted. "I'm sorry. I was trying to avoid more pain in the future, for both of us."

Sparing a thought for Bobby, who hopefully settled in the lobby to wait, Buck sits on the landing, wedging himself against the wall to take up less space. "I loved you."

"I believe you." Tommy sat down next to him, almost touching because of the width of the staircase. "I shouldn't have dismissed your feelings. You're a grown man and all I can say in my defense is that I become the fucking unabomber when I get scared. Ask Howie and Hen about my years as a closet case working under a captain who got a medal for outstanding work in homophobia."

It would be so easy to pull Tommy into his arms. Just reach out.

"Buck?"

Buck swipes at his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Please don't call me that."

"I'm sorry. I honestly felt I gave up the right to set myself apart in that way." Tommy swallows. "Evan."

Buck blinks away a fresh round of tears. "Are you okay, really?"

Tommy gestures at himself. "As you can see, I'm not going out tomorrow and running a marathon, but next week I get to start training to go back to work." He shrugs a little, smiling. "So I'm pretty damn peachy."

"What about the thirty-nine percent?"

Tommy whistles while pointing down. "It's pretty much back to whatever my prognosis was for running into fires and flying around in a tin can."

"That's- That's great." Buck's phone rings.

"Hey, I don't mean to interrupt anything," Bobby says. "I just didn't want to leave without saying something. I'll get an Uber, okay?"

"No. No, we're good. I'll see you in five." Buck meets Tommy's steady gaze. "Next week, huh? Do you wanna go for a run at that park near my place? I promise to take it easy on you. Or, not easy, whichever you need."

Tommy visibly stops himself from declining. "Okay. Text me." He rises from the steps and starts for the exit door as Buck begins his way down. "Evan?"

Buck turns. "Yeah?"

"I loved you, too."

Breathing out, Buck rolls his shoulders back. "I figured. See you next week."

[pars-ley]

Title: When the leaves turn red

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x female reader

Summary: A cosy weekend away for two at a cabin sounds perfect, but you had no idea just how perfect it could be.

Genre: Established relationship / smut / fluff / proposal / 

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Warnings: Unprotected shower sex (wrap it before you tap it) / use of shower head during sex / oral (f.receiving) / fingering / creampie / explicit language / talk of marriage /

W/C: 2.8k

Banner: me

Beta: @downbad4yoongi and @moonleeai thank you both so much! 

Notes: this is for the "fall for you" event with @k-vanity my prompts were: Satay chicken noodle soup with squash - a cosy night in with a book and a mug of hot chocolate by the fireplace turns into something you could've never expected. Red maple cinnamon mocha: “Is being stuck in this cabin all day while it rains a bad thing? I think it's perfect.”

The sound of your feet on the wooden steps echo through the trees as you jog up to the porch, escaping the sheet of rain that fell the moment your car arrived. Looking down at your drenched clothes as they uncomfortably cling to your skin, you can't help the laugh that escapes you. 

“Well, this is unexpected weather. Even for autumn,” you begin, as you wring the water out of the bottom of your shirt, “it definitely wasn't on the forecast when I checked earlier today.”

When you get no response from Namjoon, you glance at him. Unusually quiet, he stares at the rainfall with a frown wrinkling his brow.

“Hey,” you say, flicking water from your cuff at him in an attempt to recapture his attention, “who's upset you, and do I need to fight them?”

He doesn't react, his mouth not even twitching at your joke. “We can't do the waterfall trek today. Do you realise that? It'll be too muddy to get there,” he responds, his sombre and irritated tone surprising you. 

Attempting to ease his tension, you squeeze his broad shoulders, hoping to offer some reassurance. “We still have tomorrow and Sunday to be able to do that, Joon. The waterfall’s not going anywhere.”

You notice how his jaw clenches and juts out as he chews the inside of his cheek, which he only does when annoyed. 

“I know that, but I wanted us to go today.”

A slight frown creases your forehead as you attempt to understand his determination. Reaching up on your tiptoes, you press kisses to his taut shoulders. The combination of the hard muscles and wet clothes against your lips calls out to you, making your insides feel electric. Sighing against him, you push your want aside.

“Maybe the rain won't last long and we can go later?”

He relaxes slightly under your touch, melting into it. “Hm.” he agrees, reluctantly. “I just…I had a plan for today, and now it's ruined.”

“In the words of Winston Churchill, however beautiful the strategy, you should occasionally look at the results,” you quote.

He looks over his shoulder at you then, with thoughtfulness in his eyes that you could get lost looking at. “What do you mean?”

“Is being stuck in this cabin all day while it rains a bad thing? I think it's perfect,” you respond, leaning against him again. “Besides,” your hands travel down the front of his shirt that clings flatteringly to his abs. Sliding your finger across them, enjoying the uneven path, mapping the way to a promise of pleasure, “all I want to do right now is take these wet clothes off and have a hot shower. Would you care to join me?”

His head jerks your way, full attention devoted back to you, and that frown suddenly irons out into surprise instead. He turns in your embrace, his arms sliding slowly around your waist and pulling you flush against him. The hard planes of his body mould to your curves, making your skin flush with heat, in contrast to the fabric wrapping itself in an ice blanket around your limbs.

His heated eyes are so focused on your mouth as you smirk up at him that you can't help but toy at your bottom lip with your teeth. His thumb is on it instantly, gently pulling it out and crashing his mouth to yours.

Heat consumes your body like a rapid forest fire. Your fingers desperately cling to the lapels of his flannel shirt and attempt to pull him even closer. The arm he holds around your waist tightens while his other hand slides down your leg, curving under your knees before lifting you off the ground making it seem effortless. 

He carries you across the porch, lips attached to yours as you fumble with the keys in your pocket. Reluctantly, you pull yourself away only to unlock and push open the cabin door, before he kicks it shut behind him

“You know, you're only supposed to carry me across the threshold when we're married.”

His body stiffens under your touch, and you roll your eyes, giggling. 

“Relax, Joonbug, this isn't a proposal. I'm just testing your reaction.” 

He smiles, but his eyes glance around the room awkwardly, a hint of crimson dusting his cheeks. 

“Note to self: do not discuss marriage yet. Revisit at a later date,” you say mechanically, your tone mocking. 

He sets you down, but his arms remain firmly around your waist, pinning you against him. “I'm happy to discuss anything that involves a future with you. You just caught me off guard, is all.”

Surprised by his openness, you arch a brow in his direction. “Is that so?”

He leans down and places a soft, gentle kiss against your lips. The heat from before dissipates and is replaced with love and adoration as his thumb gently strokes your cheek—an action so tender it almost brings tears to your eyes. His forehead meets yours, and your eyes close, savouring this moment and marking it in your treasured memories.

“How about this…” he whispers, “I'll light the fire, warm this place up a bit, while you run the shower so I can warm you up.” He kisses the corner of your mouth, trailing down and leaving wet prints of his lips against your throat. His breath, a ghostly caress against your skin, “Then I'll make us both my famous hot cocoa, and we can spend the rest of the day talking about the future if you'd like?”

Your chest heaves, feeling full and ready to burst with love for this man. Your body and mind are in two different places, reading from two different books. 

“And this is one of the many reasons why I love you, Joonbug.” On tip-toes you kiss him tenderly, feeling him smile against your mouth. 

“I'm glad you're with me for more than just my cocoa-making skills,” he jokes, slapping you on the behind as you turn and head inside the bedroom.

Glancing back, feeling mischievous, you add, “Of course, you also have a really big…”

Your eyes travel the length of his body. He raises an eyebrow with a smirk playing across his mouth, before your gaze flickers back up to meet his.

“...heart.” 

His laughter rings out around the cabin. Glancing around the space you'll spend the next three days in, you admire the wicker rocking chair in the corner. The soft sofa with cushions so big it looks like you could disappear into it and the sheepskin rug in front of the log fire—a picture-perfect vacation for the two of you.

“I'll see you and your big heart in a minute,” you say, winking before heading into the ensuite bathroom. 

Turning on the shower, you peel off your wet clothes, shivering from the cold that sends instant goosebumps creeping across your skin.

Thinking about this time away with Namjoon and all the possible ways to spend your time. Impatience soars through you, wanting him inside you but also dying to know what he sees for a future between you. You’re eager to know what the time ahead looks like for him and if it matches what plays out in your mind.

Your core throbs for him, melting within and ready to accommodate him. Your head feels weightless, floating high up on clouds made of butterflies and his sweet words.

Stepping under the water, you bask in its warmth, goosebumps breaking out across your skin. When you hear the door open and click closed, your insides are alight again. Keeping your back to him, you continue to enjoy the water cascading down your front, warming your body. Hearing the clang of his belt as his trousers hit the floor, your excitement grows, butterflies swarming a tornado of arousal. 

Climbing in behind you, his body encases yours, instantly warming your back. When his lips touch the skin of your shoulder, it almost burns from the bolt of desire that courses through you.

Turning in his grasp, your breasts slide across his chest, and he pounces. Urgent, needy kisses trail down your neck and make their way to your bust. Sucking the erect nubs into his mouth happens so fast your body jolts in surprise. 

His hands are everywhere. 

You can't keep up with the sensations, your breathing fast and ragged in your chest, needing to feel more of him. He slowly lowers to the shower floor, his plush lips trailing a searing path down your stomach, leaving you to revel at the sight. He smirks up at you, knowing how much you enjoy him at your mercy, especially now, with the water trickling down his handsome face. 

His fingers spread you open, moaning in appreciation as he exposes your sensitive bud. Once his tongue touches you, unsteady on your feet, you grip at the walls, fingers sliding uselessly down the wet tiles. His tongue swirls relentlessly around your clit, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your fingers in his hair hold you up, but your legs shake beneath you. His hand grips your rear, pushing you closer and smothering him with your cunt.

“Fuck, Joon,” you gasp as you teeter on the edge of the precipice of inexplicable pleasure. 

He slowly slides a finger inside your throbbing core and beckons you to fall. With every stroke of his finger against that point of bliss inside you and every flick of his tongue, a red-hot poker of pleasure tightens almost uncomfortably inside you. 

The water streaming down your body now feels too hot, the air in the bathroom feels too dense. And just as all the sensations feel too much at once, you're falling, leaping off of the cliff and into the abyss. Wave after wave of elation vibrates through your body as you cry out, holding him against you while you ride out your high. 

“Turn around,” he commands, his lips brushing against you, making your pulsating core twitch from over-stimulation.

You obey, regardless of your wobbly legs, and bend forward slightly. Standing and positioning himself behind you, his fingers massage your rear and spread open your cheeks slightly. When the tip of his cock touches your entrance, a whimper escapes you. He feels so hot against you, hotter than the warm water cascading down the arch of your back.

He rolls his hips ever so slightly, pushing his head in gently before pulling it out. Teasing your pussy opening, but it's nowhere near enough, the taunting is too much for you to take.

“Joonie, please,” you whine, thrusting your backside back to meet him.

“You want more?” he asks, his voice so deep, so sexy you find yourself growling in response.

He chuckles before pushing himself into you, opening you up, stretching you until you swallow him entirely. When he is finally buried to the hilt, he pauses, his breathing now as fast as yours. His hand runs up the length of your spine, humming in appreciation as he rocks back and forth into you. His groans echo in the confines of the shower stall, accompanied by the sound of his wet skin slapping against yours with every powerful thrust.

Rolling his hips just the way you like, hitting that yearning spot inside, still hungry and not sated yet. Your fingers fan out against the tiles as you hold yourself up, bracing yourself every time he plunges deep inside you. 

His hand slides to your front, grabbing one of your breasts and squeezing it gently, using it as an anchor to pound into you faster. You clench am, and the hiss from his lips sends shivers down your spine despite the heat within this glass cage.

“That's how you like it, isn't it, baby?” He says through ragged breaths. You know he's nearing his end as his pace slows slightly and his grunts grow louder.

“Fuck, yes,” you squeak out, face now pressed against the wall, arms having given in, unable to keep you up any longer.

You see the shadow of his arm reaching up on the shiny tiles and hear the click of the shower head disconnecting: the water pressure changes and moves down your body. You cry out as he places it between your legs, the harsh massage from the water bringing you closer to the edge of the abyss once again.

“That feel good, baby?” he whispers.

Words die in your throat as all you can do is nod while you gasp. Your swollen core flutters around him as you chase your high, grinding yourself against his cock as he plunges into you.

“That's it, baby,” he mutters soothingly. “Let go for me.”

He leans over, kissing your shoulder blades, and the added sensation of his lips on your skin tips you over the edge. Crashing into the pool of ecstasy, you're blinded by white light as your orgasm hits. Your pussy contracts and milks him to his simultaneous end. His hips stutter as his warm seed fills you, both of you riding out your high as one.

As your breathing slows, and he slides out of you, making you feel empty but sated, his arms cradle around your stomach, holding you up. Pulling you to him, he peppers soft kisses from your mouth to your ear.

“I love you,” he whispers.

A sleepy smile stretches across your face. “I love you, too.”

He smoothes your wet hair away from your face, looking at you with complete adoration.

He grabs a fresh bar of soap on the shelf inside the shower and unwraps it, chucking the rubbish over the top. Lathering it up in his hands, he spreads it quickly all over his body and then yours, being particularly gentle as his hands massage every inch of your body.

“I'm going to make that cocoa now. You finish up, and we can get settled in front of the fire, hm?” he says as he rinses off.

You nod, watching him as he climbs out, dries himself, and leaves the bathroom. Blissfully, you relish the warm water on your skin and relax into the steam surrounding you. When your pleasure-hazed brain floats back down to earth, you climb out and get ready to return to him.

Feeling much cosier in your hoodie and sweatpants, you head back out to the living area with your book tucked under your arm, but when you open the bedroom door, your mouth drops at the sight that greets you.

There were dozens of candles scattered all around the room. A pathway of flickering lights across the floor led to the fireplace, where Joon stood waiting, holding mugs topped with whipped cream and marshmallows.

Your heart swells, beating as fast as your legs carry you to him. You close the distance, suddenly feeling shy under his loving gaze, and take your drink from him.

“You are a god,” you say, smiling as you take a sip and wince from the molten-hot liquid. Clearly, too eager to wait for it to cool, you tear your gaze away from him momentarily to place it on the fireplace. When you turn back to him, he's kneeling before you, a chunky black box in his hand.

Any words you had were swallowed down with a gulp of sudden nerves. 

The fire is roaring beside you, orange light flickers beautifully on one side of his face, making you want to reach out and touch him but resist as he starts to speak.

“I had a plan to do this a different way, something precise and thought out, but you're right,” he sighs, taking your hand in his, “sometimes things work out perfectly regardless.”

Unable to believe the scene before you, you remain still as if any movement or sound will shatter its illusion. 

“You see, I have something to confess…” he holds the box out, a box that holds more than just a ring, but your entire future inside.

Tears fill your eyes in an instant, making him a blurry figure in front of you. You swipe them quickly away, not wanting to miss a moment, ingraining it in your mind.

“I would be honoured,” he smiles bashfully, revealing his dimples, and takes a calming breath. “If you would be my wife?”

As soon as the anticipated words are out and in the air surrounding you, your arms are around his neck. He falls back as your body slams into his, the two of you giggling like school children.

“Is that a yes?” he asks, winding one arm around your waist, pinning you to him.

Nodding frantically, the tears spill, leaving glistening trails down your cheeks in the candlelight. 

He sits you both up so you're straddling his lap and opens the box. It's perfect. It's just your style. Everything about it had so much thought behind it, bringing a new rush of emotion.

He removes the ring, his long fingers holding it so delicately, as if it might shatter under his touch, and slides it gently on your finger. It’s a perfect fit. You are not surprised, the man never ceases to amaze you.

Clasping your hand gently in his, he brings your fingers up to his lips and places a gentle kiss on your knuckles. When his shining eyes meet yours, so open and full of love, you're unable to help the way your insides melt as you crash your lips against his once again.

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 12

Welcome to act 2. These are going to be a rough set of chapters for Steve. I hate to do it, but I've got to get him low, to have Eddie build him back up.

If you've been following along to WIP Wednesday, you'll know (or at least suspect) that I'm nearing the end of act 2 and the return of Eddie.

Then I'm not sure how much longer it's going to be. It could be a couple of chapters. But it might be several.

Here we have Jeff teasing Steve and Eddie. Steve decides to spend all his money on movies and popcorn, and at last a wild Birdie appears.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

~

It took a month before Clint Harrington gave up on his crusade to chase his son out of town. That didn’t make Steve safe, per se, just safer. But he took what little comfort in that that he could.

The kids were jealous of the Sunbird, Mike finally admitting that yes, some mysterious benefactor had come in and swept Steve off his feet. He was a kept man.

Steve squirmed at the term. He was going to start looking for work. Just as soon as the dust settled. There was no point in looking when Clint Harrington was just going to come in and throw his weight around get him fired again.

Mike just rolled his eyes when he explained it to the kids, but Max was of the idea to milk for as much as it was worth.

“Seriously, Steve,” Max huffed, “if I could live in a hotel and swim whenever I wanted and order as much food as I wanted, I’d never want to leave.”

He scoffed. “That’s because you’re like ten and actually have friends your age or did you all forget that my dad chased all my friends off?”

“Ooh,” Lucas said clicking his tongue and shaking his head, “yeah, man. That’s rough. And it doesn’t help that this place has one movie theater, an arcade, and a handful of specialty shops none of which scream fun times for teenagers.”

“Yeah,” Will said from the couch, “Jonathan has been complaining about it all summer. There’s Bloomington or Indy, but considering you don’t know which direction your parents went, you’re pretty much stuck in Hell.”

Steve waved his hand at Will. “See? Will gets it.”

So all the kids got their heads together will Claudia and Joyce and tried to plot out something for Steve to do so that he wouldn’t have be staring at the same set of walls every day, no matter how gorgeous those walls happened to be.

Which is how Steve became cinaphile. He started just picking random movies to see at random times of the day during the week. His favorite time to go was Tuesday afternoons before the middle school got out. Not enough time for high school students to evade the place, but later than the moms taking their small children as a way to beat the summer heat.

It also allowed him to find new genres he liked and through all this Eddie stayed his constant phone companion. He loved listening to Steve talk about the plot and how hot the actors were. It was fun.

Steve was also starting to make friends with the rest of the band. He found out who the other person that picked up before thinking it was his phone that was ringing.

“Hey, is Eddie around?” Steve had asked, calling the mobile phone.

“He just stepped out for a minute but he’ll be right back,” the person said. “I’m Jeff by the way, I’m the one that picked up before.”

“Oh hello!” Steve said in surprise. “You’re the other guitarist, right?”

Jeff laughed. “Yeah that’s me. Thanks for not saying ‘the black one’ by the way.”

“Happens a lot?” he asked with a grimace.

“All the time,” Jeff deadpanned. “All the god damned time.”

“That must be shitty,” Steve commiserated. “I guess it’s not quite the same as saying the blond one or the tall one.”

“Yeaaaahhh, no,” Jeff said. “The other two are neutral attributes while being black carries a certain disdain to it.”

“One of the families I used to babysit before this all went to hell,” Steve said, “was a black family and I didn’t realize all the little shit they go through each day. All the snide remarks and sneering glances all the for the crime of existing in the grocery store.”

“Yeah,” Jeff agreed. “Oh wait, your lover boy is back. Hey Ed, it’s Steve.”

“Little Canary!” Eddie said excitedly upon being given the phone. “Jeff didn’t spill any of my secrets did he?”

Steve heard Jeff laugh in the background. “I didn’t know there were secrets he kept... I’m going to have to pump him for information next time.”

‘No, no, no,” Eddie whined. “Not allowed! Shoo Jeffy. Mine! Shoo!”

“Don’t worry, Eddie,” Steve giggled. “You can tell all your secrets yourself the next time you’re in Hawkins.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said softly. “I think I’d like that very much.”

“You’re just a gooey marshmallow, aren’t you?” Steve said with a giggle. “A perfectly roasted marshmallow. Hard on the outside, but all melty and gooey on the inside. Sweet and sticky.”

Eddie burst out laughing. “You really had me going there until the sticky part. Yeah, baby. I’ll be your marshmallow and you’ll be my little Canary.”

“Yeah, Eds,” Steve said, “I’d really like that.”

They talked for a little bit longer before Eddie hummed.

“Steve we have to talk about the last month of the tour,” he said seriously.

Steve’s blood froze in his veins. Eddie rarely called him ‘Steve’. It was a petname like baby, sweetheart, or honey, or little Canary, or maybe even Stevie. But never Steve. “Oh yeah? What about?”

“We’re going to be in Canada,” Eddie continued. “I’ll still be able to call, but only from hotel rooms. I don’t get good service there.”

The ice in his veins turned to lead in his stomach. “So while you’re on the road, you won’t be able to call me?” he asked, his voice small.

“Oh, little Canary,” Eddie said sympathetically. “I’ll try to call from payphones when we stop for gas, but yeah. It’ll be pretty sporadic. But I’ve gotten Chrissy to promise that she’ll take good care you.”

“She still doesn’t like, you know,” Steve said, “she thinks I’m distracting you from doing your job.”

“Which is fucking ridiculous,” Eddie assured him. “I shake my ass on stage and sing and play my heart out. I never skimp on that, and never walk out one meet and greets with the fans. It’s her job to worry, but it’s not your problem. It’s mine. Plus I have my little elf in play who will be plying you with as many little bird gifts I can find.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile at that. He had gotten in addition to the necklace that he only took off to shower, a couple of graphic t-shirts with canaries on them. A keychain as well as one with his name on it. Three little ceramic canaries and a glass one. All brought in by Eddie’s little elf.

“Yeah, okay,” he huffed. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with next.”

“Well, I’ve got to go, babe,” Eddie murmured, “I’ll talk to later. The change won’t happen right away, but I’ll tell you when the date gets closer, okay?”

“Roger that,” Steve said with a sigh of relief. Then they hung up and he flopped on the sofa like a fainting Victorian maiden. In a couple of weeks, he would go back to being as lonely as fuck.

He didn’t even know who the little elf was or why they never showed themselves. All though, knowing Eddie, it was probably just because he thought it was cute. Which it was. It was also a little on the creepy side. He had gotten to know the porters, bellboys, and cleaning staff very well, so he didn’t mind them coming in while he was out or even in the shower.

But a mysterious person whom he knew nothing about? Yeah that was a problem. He didn’t know if they were male or female, how old they were, were they friendly or just doing their job.

To say it drove Steve nuts would be an understatement.

It had been six weeks since his dad chucked him out for making out with Tommy on the sofa and all that time he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the bastard or any of their friends. It was just then his luck ran out.

He had accidentally spilled almost his whole bottle of shampoo and had to go and get more. He spoke briefly to Joyce and chatted with her about Will and how Jonathan was adjusting to being newly graduated and turned around to run directly into someone.

“Shit!” Steve hissed as the basket he was carrying slammed into his stomach. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

He looked up, right into the green eyes and freckled face of Tommy Hagan.

“Steve!”

“Hey, Tommy,” Steve said with a fake smile. “How have you been?” The unasked question of ‘why did you leave me?’ hung in the air between them.

Tommy reached up and rubbed the material of Steve’s shirt between his finger and thumb. “That’s some pretty fancy new getup you’ve got there. Where you get the money for such nice things?”

Steve took a step back and crossed his arms. “I’m surviving. Like I always do.” He hated how he was already put on the defensive.

“Mhmm...” Tommy purred. “Pretty little slut like you, I bet you’ve got yourself a sugar daddy you’ve spread your legs for.”

Dread immediately pooled in Steve’s stomach. That wasn’t what Eddie was? Was he?

He smacked Tommy’s hand away. “Jealous that someone is fucking me better than you ever could? Maybe I have someone paying my bills or maybe I just have a trust fund. I’ll never tell you jack shit.”

The thing was is that he probably did have a trust fund. He just wouldn’t get it until he turned twenty-one. He had two years of running on empty he would have to do first. At least he had until Eddie came home anyway.

“No,” Tommy agreed, “you were always more of a screamer than a talker.”

Steve rolled his eyes and scoffed. “At least I didn’t run like a bitch when my parents walked in on us fucking. You find another dick to ride or did you go back to Carol like the coward you are?”

Tommy scowled. “You keep her name out your dirty mouth, Stevie boy. You don’t want to see what will happen if you don’t.”

“Yeah,” Steve said with a snort, “you’ll go running back to Daddy to protect you, like always do. Now pardon me, I have better things to do.” His eyes flicked over Tommy’s body. “If you hadn’t been the only option, I wouldn’t have picked you.”

He pushed passed him, bumping their shoulders together as he did.

He quickly bought what he needed and about as much junk food as he could get hands on. Joyce looked as though she wanted to ask if he was okay, so picked a different line to go though, hurrying out to his car. He looked around to make sure Tommy wasn’t waiting for him, but he didn’t see his car.

He drove back to the hotel, ready for a junk food night in front of the TV. He ordered room service and turned on the shower to wash off the slimy feeling of the interaction with Tommy. He had removed his shirt when he realized he had left the shampoo out there.

He opened the door and stopped in his tracks. Because there putting a couple of boxes on the end table was a girl with choppy blonde hair and boxy clothes. She was definitely not staff.

“So you’re my elf.”

~

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt

9- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

10- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @blondie1006 @sadisticaltarts

[dilf-rot]

Hot Summer - MDNI 18+

TAGS: Wolverine x Reader, Logan Howlett x Reader, Logan has a knot, idc if wolverines are not a canid species I’m doing my best ok, Femme Reader, Friends to lovers sort of deal, Mentions of rut / heat, maybe a little feral?, also im giving this bitch fangs because he should have them, smut with very little plot, creampie, helping a horny mutant in need, PinV, oral (fem receiving) ((for like 1 moment)), marking / hickeys / scratching, this is literally just smut with minimal plot

WORD COUNT: 2560

A/N: Hey, remember when I asked if you would still love me if I wrote Logan with a knot? Yeah well here it is, may it comfort you in this terrible world <3 

If you enjoy my work consider sending me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/rotwrites  (Not required by any means, writing requests are still free!) 

—------------

The summer at the institute was always a little boring, or even very boring. You were one of the few students who hadn’t made plans and ended up stuck in the mansion, doing mindless tasks and trying to not be bored out of your mind. It was mostly empty, and as you walked the halls, you hardly even noticed the change in atmosphere. It had just been you, Charles, and a few other kids that would pop up every now and then. So, you were rather surprised when you rounded the corner and saw him standing there. 

“Logan,” You call, and he turns to look at you. Your breath catching in your throat as you take in the sight of him, sweaty and a little dirty from whatever he had been doing. “I thought you were out for the summer?”

“Yeah, was. Chuck called me back, gotta fix up some things.” He looks you over, and smiles, the flash of his sharp canines sending flutters right through your stomach. 

“Oh, well it’s good to see you.” You try not to stare, wondering if he has somehow gotten even more alluring in his brief absence. The length of your shorts, and thin fabric of your tank making you feel much more bare now than before. “I’ll let you get back to it,” 

“Thanks, doll. We’ll catch up when I’m done.” Something in his voice feels different, but you try not to focus on it as you head over towards the kitchen. He did look rather good, maybe even more than he usually did. Though you had been trying desperately not to think of him in that way, to preserve one of the few friendships you had built here. But the image of him dripping in sweat, in a dirt stained beater and jeans that were tight in all the right spots. That image would make things harder for sure. The thoughts of his teeth sliding along your neck, his rough hands clinging to your hips. 

You pushed those thoughts down as best as you could and decided you would attempt to read, lounging in the corner of the kitchen, book in hand. Your eyes flicking across the pages, barely absorbing the words, just trying to give yourself a reasonable distraction. You weren’t sure how long you had been doing this before Logan had made his way into the kitchen. 

“Reading?”

“Barely-” you laugh, but are briefly silenced when you look up to see Logan, shirtless. He has his dirty tank in his hand, using it to wipe the sweat from his brow. It wasn’t even that hot out for the season, and yet he was somehow soaked in sweat. You couldn’t imagine the work Charles had him doing to be that strenuous. 

“Oh yeah? Something on your mind?” He loops the fabric of the tank through one of his belt loops and walks over to the fridge. 

“Uh-” You can’t help the way your mind practically goes blank as you watch him. He’s taken a beer from the very back of the fridge and popped the cap off on the edge of the counter, hopefully he hadn’t chipped it or that would be another thing to add to his list of repairs. 

“You want one?” He references the drink in his hand, you nod and stand up from your chair. Whatever book you were reading was quickly forgotten and left on the floor. You stand next to him leaning against the counter as he opens the beer for you and hands it to you. He must’ve bought them and hid them in the back of the fridge whenever he had gotten back to the mansion, cause you couldn’t recall seeing any in there for the past few months. 

As you take the beer from him your fingers brush against his, and as if he had been shocked he flinches. His eyes are dark as he looks down at you. He grits his teeth and tries to regain his composure, but you can tell something is going on. You step closer to him, your hip almost touching him. He leans down towards you, as if he was going to tell you a secret.

You want to turn your face towards his, to swallow him up in a kiss, to beg him to tell you what he was thinking. But as he moves closer to you, you find yourself paralyzed.

“You smell good,” he breathes in, his face inches away from your neck.

“So do you…” You turn your head to avoid his gaze. He smells better than usual. Something about the smell of sunshine, dirt, and whatever sawdust or debris had been falling onto him made you want to reach out and grab him, but before you could, he corners you. Your back against the counter, his hands finding your hips and effortlessly lifting you on top of the counter. He presses himself against you. You're caged in by his large arms, the muscles taut and glistening.

His face against your neck, his teeth almost brushing against your skin. His rough fingers digging into your hips. The fabric of his jeans rubbing up against your thighs, now wet from his sweat and your sudden excitement.

“Logan-” you whine, practically trembling, and he seems to remember himself.

“Sorry, doll.” He steps back and looks you over, a devious glint in his eye. Without another word he is gone from the kitchen. You are unsure of what to do, or what even was happening but eventually follow him.

He has resigned himself to his room, and you can hear him pacing back and forth behind the door. You knock gently and the sounds stop. He opens the door just a crack, he seems even sweatier and disheveled from when he had found you in the kitchen. His eyes piercing and intense, his pupils blown wide, his breath slow and shaky. 

“Logan, are you alright?”

He grunts in response, shaking his head. 

“What’s wrong?” 

He looks you over, and opens the door wider. You step inside and he quickly shuts the door. He looks even wilder than he had in the kitchen, still shirtless, only in his jeans. Which you try not to make note of the very large and obvious bulge in the crotch. His hair is messy and disheveled, you imagine he had been running his hands through it as he was pacing around.

“Logan?” You walk towards him and he makes a strangled sound. “Are you feeling ok?”

When he turns towards you, your heart races and your breath catches in your throat. He looks so pathetic. Rendered down to some poor animalistic creature. He walks slowly towards you, and when he is a mere step away he grabs your hands and pins them up above you, your back pressed against the door. 

“You should go,” He growls into your ear as he brushes his nose against your jaw. “Too dangerous for you to be in here.”

“Why? You’re not gonna hurt me,” You lean into his touch, resting your head against his.

“Might,” He drops your wrists and tries to step away, but you follow. Keeping the gap between you as small as possible. He groans as you run your hands along his arms, trying to be gentle and encouraging so that he may tell you what’s going on. Before you can ask, he takes one of your hands and slides it underneath the waistband of his pants. 

Your eyes widened as you feel the weight and heat of his cock in your hand. You curiously push your hand down more and feel a swollen bulb at the base of it. Oh. 

Oh. 

Now you understood. You had at some points wondered just how animalistic his mutation was, but now you got it. Late summer was a rather common breeding season for a variety of mammals and it seems as if Logan was one of them. 

“Let me help you,” You slide your fingers up the length of him, tracing the prominent vein on the underneath of the shaft.

“Don’t think that’s a good idea,” He shudders as you wrap your fingers around his cock.

“Why not?” You smile up at him, and you feel him straining to not thrust up into your hand.

“You might regret it.”

“I don’t think so,” you lean up so that your lips are nearly brushing his, and his restrain snaps.

He closes the distance and practically devours you, kissing you rough and desperately. 

It was as if a fire had been reignited within him and he could do nothing to put it out. His hands grasping and clawing at you, wrapping his arms around your waist and squeezing you tight against him. His lips leaving frenzied kisses against your jaw and neck, his teeth grazing the soft skin and his tongue soothing the small marks left in their wake.

He lifted you easily, dragging the both of you towards the bed where he tossed you down against the mess of sheets and pillows. His hands running along the curvature of your body, as if removing himself from you would cause him great pain. His face was wild, that of a crazed man who finally had found whatever he had been searching for.

You were utterly breathless and your heart beat rang in your ears loud as could be. He makes quick work of your clothes, tossing them off somewhere, his hands hardly leaving your body for more than a few seconds. He drags himself away from you for just long enough to find himself kneeling in front of you, pulling you down to the edge of the bed, your legs resting on his shoulders, his head between them, looking up towards you with the most pathetically hungry expression you could have ever imagined.

“You’re sure doll?” His voice is strained and rough. 

You nod, your hands finding their way to tangle in his hair to softly encourage him to continue. He growls and presses his lips to your inner thigh, kissing the soft skin and taking the flesh into his mouth to nibble and bite at. Trailing up and down the length of each thigh, relishing in the small whines and moans leaving your mouth as he decorates your delicate skin with marks. Feeling satisfied that you were now his in this moment, he brings his attention to the aching spot between your thighs, dragging his tongue up through your folds to lap and suck upon your clit. The feeling electric and mind numbing. He slides his tongue along your clit in sloppy circular motions, sucking it in gently, generating small whimpers from you. He growls as he hungrily slurps you up, his patience growing thin as he becomes entirely enveloped in your scent. 

He pulls away from you, a small whine leaving your lips as you sit up and rest on your elbows to watch him. He quickly kicks off his pants, and you gasp when you see him. The tip of his cock is red with need and practically dripping. You feel a bit more intimidated now as you stare wide-eyed at the bulb throbbing at the base of his cock. You could only pray that it would fit. 

Logan smirks and hovers over you, caging you in with his large arms. “Having some regrets, princess?”

“No,” you lift your hips up to shamelessly rub yourself against his erection and he groans. One hand moving down your body to roughly grab your hip pushing you down into the mattress. He slides his cock between your wetness, your breath hitching when the head of his cock bumps against your clit. Your arousal coating him, the slick wet noises make your head spin. 

“Please,” You whine. He presses the tip against your entrance and you try to lift your hips closer to him, begging for it to slide inside. Your breath hitching when it finally does. He moves painfully slow, the drag of his cock slowly stretching you out. A sort of burning rising in your stomach as you strain to be closer to him.

“So desperate,” He huffs, wrapping an arm around you and holding you close against him as he bottoms out. Your whines make his heart ache. “I’ve got you princess, I’m right here.”

You claw at his shoulders, his arms, his back, anything you can reach. The knot at the base of his cock pressing into you, you feel like you could break. Heat spreading over your entire body. You can’t get close enough. You want him to devour you. To take what he needs and worry about you later, but he’s being so gentle that it makes your eyes water. 

His pace stays slow, once he feels you relax, he pulls himself back before pressing in again. Slow, deliberate, patient. He watches your face as you try to play tough, acting like you can handle it despite your trembling. When you flutter around him and a broken moan falls from your mouth he falters.

“I don’t think I can be gentle for much longer,” He whispers against your neck, kissing right below your ear.

“So don’t be,” your whimper flips a switch in him. He would have preferred your first time together to be different than this, to be softer and sweeter. To be kinder to you. But when you beg to help him, and try to take him so good, he can’t help himself. 

He barely hesitates before his pace quickens, and the sheer force of his movements is enough to make your brain fuzzy and dumb. The headboard smacking into the wall with every rough movement, the bed frame creaking beneath you. You’d feel bad about all the noise if you were in any position to feel anything other than Logan ruthlessly fucking you. 

His cock stretches you in such a way that each thrust presses against that sweet spot inside you. The knot at the base pressing against your clit. The slap of it sends little waves of pleasure throughout your body. His pace hardly falters, as you grip onto his arms, your legs tightly wrapped around his waist, desperately trying to take it. To help him through it. Wanting him to use you and be satiated. 

“Fuck, that’s a good girl,” he groans as he feels you tighten around him. You tremble and whine, shaking as your orgasm takes over and you can hardly think of anything as his motions begin to falter too. 

He shudders as he pumps into you, his ruthless pace being diminished into small quick thrusts. You groan as you feel the knot slip in, and he cums. You feel so utterly full as more and more cum is spilled into you. So much so that it’s dripping down onto the mattress beneath you. Your eyes rolling back in your head, and you can feel drool leaking from your open mouth. Your body feeling limp, you can hardly manage to keep your eyes open and steady enough to look at Logan. He seems hardly affected. 

“We’re gonna be here a while, Doll. Don’t get tired on me already,” Logan grins, pressing his lips against your neck and you shudder as you feel his sharp canines graze the sensitive skin.

At least the rest of your summer would be far from boring. 

[jamsmemes]

( * MIXED BAG PROMPTS !

mixed bag of sentence starters with a side of silly. likely taken from twitch streams / messages.

❛ what have you had for dinner today? ❜

❛ what does that do? ❜

❛ you promised me. ❜

❛ i haven't been here for a while, i have some questions. ❜

❛ i did mess up. ❜

❛ it was a setup. ❜

❛ i would have had no mercy. ❜

❛ is it good? ❜

❛ you're like a month early. ❜

❛ that's an odd take. ❜

❛ so mean. ❜

❛ worth a shot. ❜

❛ we are out of lobsters. ❜

❛ it will never happen. ❜

❛ thank you for everything you do. ❜

❛ what are the options? ❜

❛ don't know about that one, chief. ❜

❛ i agree with that. it's a good idea! ❜

❛ that is really unfortunate. ❜

❛ i don't remember, sorry. ❜

❛ i don't know about this. ❜

❛ that was honestly not bad at all. ❜

❛ if it works, why is it bad? ❜

❛ you said what you said, no take backs. ❜

❛ i think it's time to let go. ❜

❛ that could have been really good. ❜

❛ i swear i heard it. ❜

❛ i'll give the people what they want. ❜

❛ blood for the blood god! ❜

❛ great catch! ❜

❛ it's always this way now. ❜

❛ it's not as good as people say it is. ❜

❛ oh dear god, that sounds horrifying. ❜

❛ that hair cut is beautiful! ❜

❛ any words of wisdom? ❜

❛ you look great today. ❜

❛ if it takes you that long for a response, the answer is no. ❜

❛ you can't take it seriously. ❜

❛ how was your experience? ❜

❛ how's life, you beautiful bastard? ❜

❛ what's a movie that stuck with you? ❜

❛ with great power comes great responsibility. ❜

❛ friendship is magic. ❜

❛ i could've saved more. ❜

❛ corny or not, that is a very profound. ❜

❛ get out of here. ❜

❛ it's not all on you, you can only do what one person can. ❜

❛ we all need to do what we can. ❜

❛ the world's burdens aren't yours to bear alone. ❜

❛ you're so appreciated. ❜

❛ i think you've done a fine job. ❜

❛ i'm sorry, what the fuck is going on? ❜

❛ what a strange experience. ❜

❛ how lucky are you? ❜

❛ are you drunk? ❜

❛ part of recovery is understanding there's going to be real absence. ❜

❛ little progress is still way better than no progress. ❜

❛ this is going to go down as the fucking worst time ever. ❜

❛ i feel your pain. ❜

❛ can i get a cookie? i'm hungry. ❜

❛ that made me cackle. ❜

❛ well, hello there cutie! ❜

❛ you got this. ❜

❛ you better rest up today and treat yourself. ❜

❛ i was not aware of that. ❜

❛ well, well, well, if it isn't the consequences of my own actions. ❜

❛ this part of life is hideous. ❜

❛ it's only been five minutes. ❜

❛ i have no clue, i'm sorry, i was being silly. ❜

❛ thank you for guiding me through my toughest days. ❜

❛ get well soon, we need you. ❜

❛ i hope the best for you. ❜

❛ why are you running? ❜

❛ this is the best thing ever. ❜

❛ what am i watching? ❜

❛ what a clown show. ❜

❛ you are great. ❜

[rootedinrevisions]

Five Years

SUMMARY: Five years of friendship. Years of silent longing. One night that changes everything. When Tyler Owens, a charming, rugged man with a penchant for keeping things casual, finds himself at a crossroads with the woman he's secretly loved for years, he realizes he might have waited too long. After one too many moments where you've been left wanting more, you find yourself torn between the comfort of their deep connection and the pain of being stuck in the friend zone. Tyler has one last shot to show you that he’s not just the man you turn to in the hard moments—but the man who can make you believe in love, again.

A/N: Sorry for all the angsty Tyler lately! It's just been the mood/vibe lately so I've been rolling with it! Thanks to the person who sent this request in! I hope you like it!

PROMPT: "What was he doing back there? Flirting with you like he has a fucking chance?"

WARNINGS/TAGS: Angst.

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

It’s late, the kind of quiet that comes when the night has softened everything into shadows. You and Tyler are back in the motel room, tangled together in bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His arm drapes over you, and you’re curled into his side, your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. The scent of whiskey lingers between you, mingling with the warmth of his skin, and you can still taste him faintly on your lips. Another night, another round of kisses exchanged under the dim motel lights, like something fragile and fleeting.

He stirs, his hand brushing along your back, and you wonder if he’s on the edge of sleep or just drifting in that space in between like you are. For a moment, you’re tempted to ask him the question that’s always on the tip of your tongue: What are we doing?

Instead, you stay silent, breathing in sync with him, wondering if he can feel the way your heart skips each time he holds you like this. He shifts, drawing you a little closer, and you catch a glimpse of something in his expression—something soft, maybe even vulnerable. But it’s gone as quickly as it came.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice low and slightly slurred. “You’re comfortable, right?” His hand rests at the curve of your hip, fingers grazing your skin in a way that sends a shiver through you.

You nod, managing a quiet, “Yeah. Always.” You know he’ll pretend he doesn’t remember this in the morning, brush it off like it’s nothing, and you’ll let him because it’s easier that way. But tonight, you can pretend a little too—that these quiet moments mean the same to him as they do to you.

You close your eyes, listening to his heartbeat beneath your ear, wondering how much longer you can keep pretending before you’re forced to admit the truth—to yourself, if not to him.

Then, out of nowhere, he says, “So… I just found out I’m being inducted into the PBR Hall of Fame.”

You blink, lifting your head from his chest to look at him. A smile lights up your face. “Tyler, that’s amazing! I mean, I knew you were a big deal, but… Hall of Fame?”

He chuckles softly, scratching the back of his head with that familiar modesty. “Yeah, kinda crazy, huh? Guess all those years getting tossed around finally paid off.”

You laugh, knowing he’s downplaying it. You’ve seen some of those old videos, clips of him taking on bulls with more force and heart than anyone you’d ever met. 

“No one deserves it more than you,” you say softly, feeling that familiar warmth in your chest. “I’m so proud of you.”

A faint blush colors his cheeks as he looks away, and then, clearing his throat, he glances back at you. 

“Thanks, means a lot,” he says, his voice softer. Then, after a moment, he adds, “Actually… I get a plus one to the induction ceremony. I was thinking maybe you’d want to come with me?”

Your heart skips at that. He doesn’t even pause to consider anyone else; he’s asking you. For a moment, you feel a surge of excitement that maybe this is more than just a friendly invite. But just as quickly, doubt seeps in. If he had a girlfriend, he’d take her, wouldn’t he? A familiar ache settles in your chest, the quiet reminder that maybe this is just about convenience for him.

“Are you sure?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, and casual. “I mean, you could take anyone.”

He glances at you with a soft smile, his eyes sincere. “Nah. Can’t think of anyone better. You’d come, right?”

The words are on the tip of your tongue—Of course, I’ll go. 

Instead, you hesitate, just for a second, wondering if this is just a placeholder invitation until he finds someone to fill the spot he’s never openly said he wants to be filled. But you can’t bear the thought of missing the moment, so you nod, managing a smile. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

He grins, pulling you back into his chest, and you settle against him, feeling the warmth of his arm around you. But even as you breathe him in, letting the steady beat of his heart calm you, a question begins to take root in your mind. Where do we really stand, Tyler?

It’s a question you keep to yourself, swallowing it down as you close your eyes and listen to the silence settle around you once again.

* * * * *

The ballroom buzzed with energy and anticipation, and you could sense the excitement radiating from Tyler beside you. The event space was elegantly decorated, with every table set with crystal glasses and gleaming silverware. But you hardly noticed any of it; all your focus was on Tyler. This was his night. And you were honored to be here with him, even if you didn’t quite know what that meant for the two of you.

You eventually found your way to your seats near the front of the room, and Tyler’s hand brushed against yours as you sat down. His fingers lingered just a moment, a subtle contact that sent a rush of warmth up your arm. 

Before you could say anything, the lights dimmed as the emcee took to the stage, announcing the start of the ceremony. The audience fell quiet, and Tyler’s hand was warm on your knee, a comforting weight that made your heart race. You glanced down at his hand, then back up to his face, wondering if he even realized the effect he had on you.

A part of you wanted to reach for his hand again, to close the gap between you both once and for all, but you stayed still, holding your breath as the ceremony began.

As the awards were announced one by one, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Tyler. He seemed to sit straighter with each name called, his eyes never leaving the stage. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the emcee announced Tyler’s name, and the room burst into applause. You clapped the loudest, your heart swelling with pride.

You watched as Tyler walked to the stage, his stride steady and confident, shoulders back with that natural charisma he carried wherever he went. When he accepted his award, he stood there with his plaque, his gaze scanning the crowd until it landed on you. The spotlight hit his face, highlighting the small, crooked smile you knew so well. And his eyes—dark, intense, focused on you—seemed to say something unspoken.

You felt your breath catch, frozen under his gaze, and for a second, it was like you were the only two people in the room.

His acceptance speech was simple and heartfelt. He thanked the people who had been there with him through the highs and lows. He spoke of long, hard days, the sacrifices he’d made, and the passion that drove him. But you could’ve sworn that when he mentioned his gratitude for “the people who kept him grounded,” his eyes found you once again.

As Tyler wrapped up his speech and made his way back to his seat, you barely had a chance to process the pride you felt for him, for everything he’d accomplished. But that brief moment when he’d looked at you on stage lingered in your mind, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Could it have meant something more?

He sat back down next to you, and you leaned over, unable to keep the smile from your face. “That was incredible, Ty. I’m so proud of you.”

He looked at you, a soft chuckle escaping as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks. I think I might’ve fumbled a little bit up there.”

“Not even close,” you replied, squeezing his arm. “You were perfect.”

The atmosphere at the afterparty was more relaxed, a contrast to the formality of the ceremony.

The room buzzes with laughter and clinking glasses, everyone here to celebrate the achievements of legends, past and present. You’re standing beside Tyler, trying to blend into the background of the room’s energy. But then, without warning, Tyler reaches for your hand, his fingers brushing yours before intertwining them completely. It’s such a small gesture, but it sends a rush of warmth through you. He glances at you, his eyes searching yours for a brief moment, almost as if he’s silently asking if this is okay, if you’re okay. You squeeze his hand, hoping he’ll understand that, yes, this is more than okay.

“Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet,” he says, his voice low and soft. He leads you through the crowd toward a man with a broad smile and lines etched deep around his eyes—Tyler’s old mentor. Tyler introduces you with a genuine warmth that makes you feel like you belong here, like you’re not just an accessory to his big night but someone he wants by his side.

As they begin chatting, Tyler’s hand drifts to your waist, his fingers pressing lightly into your hip as he pulls you closer, fitting you against his side. You feel a warmth blossom in your chest, and for a moment, the nagging doubts you’d been harboring vanish. His mentor jokes about old times, and Tyler laughs, giving your waist a small squeeze as if to share the moment with you. You let yourself lean into him, letting his warmth melt away the walls you’d tried to build around your heart.

But then, as the conversation comes to a close, he lets go. Just like that, his hand falls from your waist, and he takes a step back, sliding his hands into his pockets, a casual smile on his face. He glances around the room, no longer focused on you, and the sudden distance sends a chill down your spine. You’re standing side by side, but the connection feels fractured, like a missed beat. He begins walking next to you, his attention now elsewhere, no hand-holding, no gentle touches to keep you close.

Half an hour later you’re standing next to Tyler, trying to stay engaged with the conversation he’s having with an old friend he used to ride with, someone who knows a side of him you’ve only heard about in stories. Tyler’s posture is easy, his laugh warm and unguarded in a way that you rarely get to see. You watch him as he reminisces, letting yourself get lost in the sound of his laughter, in the way his eyes light up with a spark of the past. But as they continue to talk, it becomes clear that he’s in his own world, like you’re not even there.

The laughter between them grows, each memory shared drawing them further back into the years before you knew him. You shift your weight, feeling a slight ache in your chest as you realize just how separate you feel from this part of his life. A sense of loneliness creeps in, one you can’t shake, and you find yourself glancing toward the bar. Maybe a drink will help dull the sting.

You start to turn, your heart heavy, but just then, you feel Tyler’s hand reach out, his fingers wrapping gently around yours. The touch is so familiar, so comforting, and for a brief second, that hopeful warmth flickers back to life. 

You glance over your shoulder, catching his eye, a hint of something unreadable there.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice quieter, as if trying to break through to you despite the noise around.

You swallow, forcing a smile to cover the twinge of sadness that’s growing in your chest. “Yeah,” you say softly, nodding toward the bar. “Just thirsty. Thought I’d grab a drink.”

He nods, giving your hand a slight squeeze before letting go, turning back to his friend with that easy laugh that now feels like a barrier you can’t quite cross. You turn away, your heart sinking as you walk toward the bar, feeling the absence of his hand like a chill creeping over your skin. You can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment that settles heavy and cold. Just moments ago, he was intertwining your fingers, holding you close with his hand on your waist, like you were more than just a companion for the night.

How did it change so quickly? How did he go from holding you, grounding you with those intimate touches, to leaving you in this limbo of almost but not quite? You realize that, despite how much he means to you, there’s a line between you that he doesn’t seem ready to cross. And that thought hurts more than you want to admit.

You’re leaning against the bar, lost in thought, when a voice breaks through the noise, smooth and warm. “Hey there. You look like you could use some company.”

You glance up to find a guy with a charming grin and a relaxed confidence that’s instantly disarming. He extends a hand. “Eli Vastbinder,” he says. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

For a moment, you’re taken off guard, but you shake his hand and introduce yourself, motioning to where Tyler’s standing in the distance. “I’m here with Tyler Owens.”

At the mention of Tyler’s name, a flicker of something—maybe disappointment, maybe surprise—crosses Eli’s face before he recovers his smile. “Owens, huh? How do you know the Tornado Wrangler?”

You can’t help but laugh at the nickname, feeling some of the tension ease as you explain. “We work together. I help him run his YouTube channel.”

Eli’s gaze shifts from Tyler back to you, a curious glint in his eye as if he’s sizing up the situation. He doesn’t linger on it for long, though, before flashing you a daring smile. “So, just coworkers, huh? In that case, you wouldn’t mind if I bought you a drink?”

The question lingers, sparking a twist of hesitation in your chest. You glance over at Tyler, hoping for some kind of sign, some acknowledgment of what you’re feeling. Your eyes meet his, and he offers you a casual smile before turning his attention back to his friend. The moment leaves you cold—another reminder of all the times he’s pulled you close, only to leave you feeling as if you’re just out of reach.

You turn back to Eli, a decision settling in your mind. Tyler isn’t claiming you. He never has. And he’s had five years to do so.

You give Eli a small smile. “Sure, why not?”

Eli’s grin widens as he orders your drink, leaning in just slightly as he asks about your work with Tyler. He’s charming, effortlessly making you feel seen and appreciated. There’s a warm intensity in his gaze, like he’s genuinely interested in hearing about your life, in learning the pieces of you that Tyler seems to take for granted. You laugh at his jokes, leaning in as he tells stories about the crazy things he’s seen on the road. Every so often, his hand brushes yours, sending a little thrill through you—like something you haven’t allowed yourself to feel in far too long.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel the weight lifting from your shoulders. There’s no ambiguity with Eli; his attention is clear, unburdened by mixed signals or unspoken boundaries. It’s refreshing, exciting, even, to be the center of someone’s focus without second-guessing their intentions.

You glance over at Tyler once more, but he’s still wrapped up in conversation, seemingly unaware of the ache you’ve carried alone. A part of you wants him to notice, to see what’s happening, to finally feel the urgency you’ve held onto for years. But there’s another part of you that’s finished waiting.

As you turn back to Eli, you find yourself smiling, the kind of smile that feels like letting go.

You’re laughing at something Eli just said, a relaxed warmth in your chest that’s been missing around Tyler lately, when you feel a familiar presence behind you. You glance back, and there he is—Tyler, wearing that easy smile that’s disarmed you a hundred times before. He leans close, his hand slipping around your waist, fingers warm and possessive against your hip. “Hey there, darlin’,” he greets, the pet name rolling off his tongue as naturally as the smirk tugging at his lips.

But Tyler doesn’t stop there. His gaze shifts to Eli, assessing him for a beat, and then extends a hand. “I see you’ve met my date,” he says, voice casual but with a certain edge, like a claim staked.

You freeze, glancing up at him, surprised and confused by his sudden assertiveness. Eli’s expression mirrors your own—slightly perplexed, eyebrows lifting as he takes Tyler’s hand and shakes it firmly. His eyes flicker back to you, questioning. “Date? I thought you two were just coworkers,” he remarks, eyes shifting meaningfully to Tyler’s hand, still resting on your hip.

Before you can answer, Tyler lets out a dismissive scoff, as if the notion of you two being “just coworkers” is absurd. “Coworkers?” he echoes, his hand tightening just a fraction. “Yeah, we’re a little closer than that.” He shoots a look at you that’s both playful and possessive.

You feel your blood simmer, heat rising in your chest at the presumption in his tone. As if you’re some claim he can lay when it’s convenient, without any real commitment. You step out of his grip, your voice firm as you say, “We are just coworkers.” The words come out sharper than you intend, but you don’t soften them.

Tyler’s smile falters, his brow furrowing, but you’ve already turned away, excusing yourself quickly to Eli before slipping out toward the exit.

Humiliation washes over you, prickling your skin as you push through the crowd, needing fresh air, needing space. You had been enjoying a perfectly nice conversation with Eli, feeling appreciated and even flattered, until Tyler decided to swoop in and turn the moment into something possessive and confusing.

As you reach the hallway, you feel a sharp sting behind your eyes. Tears blur your vision, and you blink them back, furious with yourself for letting Tyler get to you like this. You’re tired—tired of being in his orbit only when he wants you to be, of being treated as something more only when it suits him. Because heaven forbid another guy notices you.

The hallway is quiet, save for the soft murmur of voices drifting from the ballroom as you stand there, waiting for the elevator. The moment stretches, tense and thick, when you hear his footsteps behind you, his voice calling your name.

You don’t turn around. “Tyler… don’t.” The plea is barely above a whisper, but he ignores it, closing the distance between you, his face etched with frustration.

“What was he doing back there?” he asks, motioning down the hall toward the ballroom, his tone hard, possessive. “Flirting with you like he has a chance?”

Your heart twists painfully at his words. His tone says it all—like he assumes you’re his, like it’s obvious. Like you should know.

But you’re done with the assumptions. The words spill out before you can stop them, thick with months, years, of unspoken hurt. “And why would you care, Tyler?” Your voice cracks, and you feel the first tear slip down your cheek, quickly followed by another. “It’s not like we’re together, right? You said it yourself—we’ll never be anything more than friends. We’re just…” You falter, searching for the right words, but the truth tumbles out, raw and painful. “We’re just really close, and we make out sometimes. Nothing more.”

The weight of it hangs in the air, and you can see the impact of your words in the way his face falls, his expression softening, regretful. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, reaching out, but you shake your head, a mix of anger and sadness bubbling to the surface.

“No, Tyler.” You step back, keeping the space between you. “I’m done. I’m done with this… with you.” Your voice shakes, but the conviction is there, clear and sharp. “I’m done not being good enough. Done being yours only when you want someone on your arm or in your bed. I can’t keep doing this.” You wipe a tear from your cheek, gathering whatever strength you have left. “I’m done with everything. Our friendship. The channel. All of it.”

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open with a quiet chime. You glance back at him one last time, taking in the hurt and confusion in his eyes. 

“Go back to the party, Tyler. It’s your night. You deserve it.”

You step into the elevator, pressing the button as the doors start to close. The last thing you see before they shut is him standing there, looking lost and completely, utterly alone.

Back in the quiet solitude of the hotel room, you feel the emotions from the hallway encounter with Tyler crash over you. It’s almost overwhelming, but you shake your head, determined to focus on the immediate task. You kick off your heels and reach for the zipper at the back of your dress, letting it slide down as the gown falls in a pool around your feet. You step out of it, scooping it up to drape over the chair, and head to your bag, ready to change and leave before you can overthink it.

Digging through your clothes, you pull out the first shirt, but frustration prickles at you when you realize it’s one of Tyler’s. With an annoyed huff, you toss it on the bed. You dig deeper, pulling out another… his again. Why didn’t I pack more of my own clothes? you think bitterly, remembering that his shirts have been your usual comfort, your routine.

Finally, you find one of your own t-shirts and pull it on, then slide into a pair of jeans. You run a hand over your face, taking a deep breath to keep yourself from falling apart, and open your suitcase, methodically folding the rest of your things and stowing them away. As you pack, a plan begins to form, each step sounding clearer in your mind. You’ll finish packing, get a car downstairs to a nearby hotel for the night, and fly back tomorrow. It might be an awkward plane ride home, but you’ll put in headphones, turn away, and then… you’ll walk away from Tyler James Owens for good.

With your bag nearly ready, you look around the room one last time, eyes falling on the small pile of his things on the bed. His shirts, the ones you’ve wrapped yourself in so many times, now just reminders of all the blurred lines that never became anything real. You turn away, inhaling deeply to steady yourself, willing the resolve to carry you through whatever comes next.

You reach for the handle of your suitcase, ready to walk out of Tyler’s life for good, when the hotel room door opens behind you. Your heart races, and for a second you want to pretend you don’t notice him there, but when you turn, his expression says he’s already figured out exactly what’s happening. His eyes drop to the half-packed suitcase, then back to your face. His look of confusion shifts into something desperate.

“Please,” he says, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it, almost raw. “Please, stay. We can talk about this. Just… don’t leave. Not like this.”

You shake your head, fighting the tears that are already building again. “Tyler, I’m done,” you say, your voice trembling. “You don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me, either. You keep me close enough to feel like there’s something between us, but it’s never anything more. It’s just not fair anymore.”

You curse under your breath, blinking hard as the tears spill over. You don’t want him to see you like this—vulnerable, broken, hurt. Swallowing back a sob, you start to walk past him, head held high even as you feel yourself shattering. Just as your hand reaches for the door, he says it. Those three words you’ve been waiting for, holding onto, for what feels like forever.

“I love you.”

It stops you cold, and you stand there, hand frozen on the doorknob, not sure if you actually heard him or if it’s just some desperate wish in your mind. But then he speaks again.

“I love you,” he repeats, his voice steady, almost pleading. “And if you love me—if you can still love me—then I’m asking you to stay and just… hear me out. But if you’re done with me, really done, and I’ve already lost you… then go.”

The silence hangs between you, thick and charged. You turn slowly, meeting his gaze, and there’s a look in his eyes you’ve never seen before. Vulnerability, sincerity, something real and unguarded. He’s finally opened himself up, given you the one thing you’ve been longing to hear, but the choice to stay or leave is yours.

Your chest tightens as you search his face, feeling the weight of all the years, the almosts, the near-misses, the longing. He stands there, his hands clenched at his sides, waiting, as if he’s holding his breath.

“You… really love me?” you whisper, the words barely audible.

“Yes,” he breathes, stepping toward you, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’ve loved you for a long time. I just… didn’t know how to show it, and I was afraid if I did, you’d walk away. But losing you… that’s the one thing I’m really afraid of.”

You take a shaky breath, looking into his eyes, feeling every bit of his honesty, and for the first time, he’s offering you everything, without conditions, without holding back. The pain and hurt are still there, but as he waits, the tears in his own eyes now, you feel something else rising to the surface—a glimmer of hope.

The words are out before you can stop them.

“I love you too,” you whisper.

Tyler steps forward, his eyes searching yours as if trying to understand the storm inside you. He reaches up, hesitantly at first, as though unsure if you’ll pull away. But when you don’t, his hands gently cup your face, his touch warm and grounding. His thumbs swipe at the tears still streaking down your cheeks, wiping them away as if he can erase all the pain he’s caused with one simple gesture.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice thick with regret. “I’m so sorry. For not telling you sooner, for not making a move sooner… for making you feel like you don’t matter. For making you cry. You deserve so much more than that.”

You’re frozen, his words sinking deep into the cracks of your heart that you didn’t even know were there. His thumb brushes along your cheekbone, a silent apology that speaks louder than anything else could.

He takes a deep breath, his voice low but sincere. “I know I’ve messed up, but I’m asking… can you give me another chance? To do it right this time? To take you on a real date, to buy you flowers, to tell the world that you’re mine… to be proud to have you by my side. I want to do this right, with you. Will you give me one more chance?”

The weight of his words hangs between you, and you feel the walls you’ve built around your heart begin to crack. He’s standing there, fully exposed, offering you everything he’s held back for so long. The room feels smaller, the air thicker as you look into his eyes, where you see nothing but vulnerability and hope.

You swallow hard, emotions warring inside you. You’ve wanted this—wanted him—to say it, to fight for you. And now that he is, you’re not sure whether to run or to stay. But as you stand there, feeling the sincerity in his touch and his words, something shifts. The hurt, the confusion, the loneliness—it all starts to unravel, replaced by a flicker of something new: hope.

You take a breath, your voice barely more than a whisper, but clear enough for him to hear. “Last chance, Owens.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, but it’s softer, more relieved than triumphant. He doesn’t say anything else for a moment. Instead, he just pulls you into his arms, wrapping you in a hug that’s full of promise, the kind that says he’s never letting you go. And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself believe him.

You stand there, still in his arms, the weight of his words sinking in. The tension that had built up over the last few days—hell, the last few years—seems to fade away in that moment. Tyler’s hands are warm on your back, his arms strong around you as if he’s holding on, not just to you, but to everything that was between you two. His breath is steady, the pulse in his chest calming yours. He doesn’t let go, not yet. You don’t want him to.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. There’s no need to. Words were said, the hurt was aired out, and now, the only thing left is the silence between you—a silence that feels like the promise of something better, something real.

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze soft, full of regret and hope. His thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away the last of your tears. "I meant every word," he says quietly, his voice steady but raw. "Thank you for giving me this chance."

You nod, feeling something inside you shift, finally able to let go of the heaviness that had been pulling at you for far too long. You offer him a small smile, your fingers brushing his lightly as you give him a gentle squeeze.

He exhales slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Hey…” His voice is quieter now, almost like he's considering his next words carefully. "How about we skip the rest of the party downstairs? We can grab some pizza, put on a movie, just... relax in here."

You glance at him, surprised by the suggestion, but something about the simplicity of it feels perfect. You nod, the corners of your mouth lifting into a genuine smile. “Yeah. That sounds perfect.”

Tyler’s eyes light up, a grin spreading across his face. “Good. Go ahead and get comfortable. I’ll order the pizza. Whatever you want.”

You feel a sudden sense of relief wash over you. It’s not just the break from the chaos of the night, but the quiet, intimate comfort of knowing that it’s just the two of you, no expectations, no pressure. 

Tyler watches you for a moment, his smile softening as he watches you dig through your suitcase for something comfortable. You pull out a pair of sweatpants, replacing your jeans, and as you move to crawl onto the bed, he’s already a step ahead of you.

Before you can sit down, he reaches for the bottom of your t-shirt, pulling it up over your head. You freeze, giving him a confused look, about to protest. "Tyler, I’m really not in the mood—"

He cuts you off with a soft laugh, shaking his head. "Not like that," he says, his voice teasing but warm. "Trust me, I’m not asking for anything like that."

Your brow furrows slightly in confusion, but Tyler doesn’t give you a chance to dwell on it. Instead, he reaches down into your suitcase and pulls out one of the t-shirts you had tossed aside earlier—one of his shirts. He holds it out to you with a playful glint in his eyes. “Here,” he says, “put this one on instead.”

You take the shirt from him, still a little baffled. “What’s wrong with my other shirt?”

Tyler grins, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He steps closer, leaning down slightly as if he’s about to let you in on a secret. 

“Because it’s not your boyfriend’s,” he says, his voice low and almost teasing. “If you’re gonna be my girl, you wear my shirt to bed.”

A smile tugs at your lips, and you can’t help but feel a flutter in your chest. It’s the little things like this—the small gestures, the inside jokes, the way he’s already making you feel like you belong—that make the tension from earlier seem a little less heavy.

You slip the shirt on, and Tyler's eyes soften when he sees you in it, the way it fits just right, the way it looks like it belongs on you. You glance up at him as you finish adjusting it, your voice quieter now, full of warmth. “This better for you, boyfriend?”

"Yes." He grins, clearly pleased with himself. "I think you look pretty damn perfect in it."

You laugh softly, and for a moment, the weight of everything that had happened earlier melts away, leaving you with nothing but the quiet comfort of his presence. You sit down on the bed, pulling the blankets up and patting the spot beside you. "So, pizza and movies?"

Tyler nods, settling in beside you, having traded his tuxedo for sweatpants and a t-shirt. His hand finds its way to yours as he lets out a contented sigh. "Sounds like the perfect way to spend the night."

And for the first time in a long while, it feels like things are exactly where they need to be.

[adhd-community]

i'm hyperverbal, and my partner is easily overwhelmed by too much talking. i have a hard time even processing a thought until i've said it out loud, though. if i don't talk myself through it, i just get stuck and say nothing. not to mention, i have a hard time deciding what's actually worth saying out loud until i've said it. how can i talk to my partner while,,, talking less?

It's all about finding ways to exist together that support both of your needs. I am reading that your partner has noted they find a lot of chat overwhelming and you tend to chat a lot and struggle to know when or how to stop/start (somehow I identify with both of these...).

The first two questions are:

What is it that your partner finds overwhelming? Too many thoughts verbalised too quickly? The noise? Trying to follow the conversation? Do the reasons change from time to time?

Why are you chatting? Are you looking for connection? Reassurance? Is it accidental? Do these reasons sometimes change?

Understanding yourself and each other can be REALLY helpful in these situations in order to work out what will meet both your needs.

Finally for some hypertalkitivity tips, some things that have helped me in the past with situations like these are:

Before launching into something you're thinking about, check in with the other person on whether they are up for a chat, or whether they would prefer a little quiet time. If they need quiet time, respect that (it's not a rejection, I promise) and find another outlet for your energy/thoughts.*

Make sure you and your partner are on the same page about why you're talking and what level of engagement is needed from them. I had this issue with a friend while travelling (I chat while packing and they were getting overwhelmed). We talked about it and I explained that when this happens I don't need (or expect) them to actually listen, at most it would be nice if they occasionally said "hmm good question" or "mmmm" so I didnt feel lonely or get distracted. This isn't something they need so they had thought I wanted them to deeply listen and answer questions each time and were understandably EXHAUSTED. This convo, and following "heads up, I'm doing the thing - let me know if you need quiet time" chats avoided a lot of potential tension!

If you are having trouble with impulsively talking, find something that tends to help you have "quiet time". For me this is listening to something through headphones that I dont need to pay too much attention to or actually "watch" but still find really enjoyable (e.g. podcasts or super-long game-plays (thank you Jacksepticeye amiright?)) For some reason this signals "no talking" to my brain and I can quietly focus in other things - find yours!

Take a few deep breaths and talk a little slower. When ADHDers are hypertalkative and REALLY into a thought, it can be... intense. Passion is wonderful but taking a second to recognise that your partner is probs also having several thoughts/their own experience and it will take them a second to adjust is always appreciated.

*Other possible outlets for your energy/thoughts!

Write it in a notebook

Type it out or speak it to an AI chatbot!

Call a friend or family member

Do something physical to reduce the mental restlessness (this can be exercise, or even just doing some dishes or gardening etc - just something that makes your brain feel less like it needs to work out everything in the world RIGHT NOW)

Try a guided meditation to slow your thoughts

In the end only you and your partner will be able to work out what's best for you both, but I hope this has helped!

Remember that just because they don't want to chat right now does NOT mean they don't want to hear your thoughts at all. It's likely they just need to recharge their social batteries so that they can have cute chats and fun times later.

X

[emmawithtwoms]

The history of magic classroom

@wolfstarmicrofic day 9, 988 words

The history of magic classroom has always been, in Sirius’ eyes (and all of Hogwarts’ really), the best place to take undisturbed naps. Professor Binn’s voice always acted as white noise for the tired students, and the extremely boring class was always taught in the early mornings, lulling all of the pupils, who still hadn’t managed to rub the sleep out of their eyes, back into the dream’s realms. 

Well, all of the students, except for one. 

Remus Lupin was, quite possibly, the only boy in all of Hogwarts to not only manage to stay awake during Binn’s lessons, but to actually enjoy them, taking notes and gladly sharing them with the rest of the class, also helping younger students revising and giving many free (and actually interesting) lessons for whoever was in need. Not even Lily Evans, classified swot, could bring herself to enjoy that class, but to Remus, it was one of the most interesting lesson in Hogwarts, managing to stay top of his class every year. 

That’s why that particular Tuesday morning was exceptionally grimm for poor Remus. You see, not only January’s full moon came on a Saturday night, not only it came the night of his anniversary with his incredible, stunning and fabulous boyfriend (his words, although Remus totally agreed), making him too weak to properly celebrate (with a date and very through snogging session, in his mind), but the moon was also a bad one, leaving him bedridden for the following couple of days, impeding him from participating to his favourite classroom. 

Therefore, the pout on his lips and his grumbling while alone in the infirmary were totally understandable, even if not shared by his friends. And that’s how Sirius found him at the end of the school day: reading a (very boring, in Sirius’ opinion) book about the goblin revolution that they were studying in class, with a very prominent crease on his eyebrows given by his frown (Sirius believed that the frown hadn’t left his brows sinvìce that morning, when mrs. Pomfrey forbid him to leave the infirmary). 

“Moonyyy, you know you shouldn’t frown, it will give you wrinkles.”

Sirius proceeded to smooth the wrinkles on his forehead with his thumb, followed by his lips. He clearly saw all of Remus’s tension leave his body, making him melt against his boyfriend’s affections. 

“Hey pads, how was the school day?”

Sirius took his hand and started playing with his fingers, as he often did when talking to him. 

“It was fine, I managed to charm Snivellus’ chair so that he got stuck to it during Charms, and Mulciber got detention for causing an explosion during potions, it was brilliant”

“And I guess you had nothing to with the sudden blowing of his cauldron”

“Actually, my dearest Moony, I did not, even if I wished it was my doing. No, I think this time it was Evans and the girls, getting revenge after hearing that prick bad mouthing some muggleborns. You know, those girl can actually be pretty scary, when they put their minds into it”

“Oh yeah, tell me about it, we just gotta be thankful that they decided to be our friends, otherwise we would be screwed.”

“And all thanks to you, my Moonage daydream, you charmed our way into their hearts, opening the door for us to sweep through and settle into their lives”

“Huh, seems like I’m quite the charmer then, is that what I did with you? ”

“Don’t be ridiculous, my bright Natural Satellite. Nope, you stole my heart right away and never gave it back, you little thief.”

“Well, lucky me, now I have the most precious treasure in the world in my hands, and I don’t really plan of giving it back”

At that he squeezed Sirius’ hand, looking at him and blushing, like the romantic sap he is. 

“Oh Moony, my Moony, all those books really taught how to enchant me with your words, did they?” 

Remus couldn’t answer, because he was swept in a kiss by Sirius, and well, let’s just say that when Sirius Black kisses and holds you like you’re the most important thing in the world, there is not much else that your brain can concentrate on, for Remus, it was just SirusSiriusSiriusSiriusSirius. 

But then Sirius suddenly broke the kiss, (quite rudely, if you ask Remus). 

“Oh, I almost forgot, I’m meant to give you something!”

And he started rustling in his bag, looking for said something 

“There!”

Sirius handed Remus a little pile of parchment, that was neatly stored in his bag

“What is this, love?”

And he started scanning them, ignoring the puddle that Sirius became hearing the pet name. 

“It’s just today’s note, I wouldn’t want my favourite swot to lose his precious class time”

And there, in Remus’ hand, neatly written with a perfect posh cursive, were the notes for the whole day, not only of the subjects that Sirius actually enjoyed, like Charms, but also of...

“You didn’t!!! You actually stayed awake during History of Magic to take notes for me???” 

The notes were neatly written, clearly taken with the only purpose to be gifted to Remus, seeing the amount of messages, hearts, “I love you”s, and doodles that Sirius left in the margins for him. 

Now, this might not seem like a big deal for many, but to Remus, the fact that Sirius not only stayed awake during a class that he hated, but actually put in the effort taking notes just to gift them to Remus, without even using them for himself, was the most heartwarming gift he could have gotten post moon. 

“Oh, you beautiful, beautiful man, how did I manage to deserve something so special like you?”

“It’s quite simple, my stunning Night Howler: you were trapped by my insanely good looks, my charm, my flashing grin, my amazing personality,  my ass…” 

“Sirius”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and kiss me”

And kiss him he did. 

[juniper-sunny]

The Art in the Heart* - Chapter 5

You and Silco bond over your shared dreams for the Undercity. He's a man of many words, but he still has to prove himself a man of action...

Happy Ending AU | Silco x Reader | Young!Silco | F!Reader | No [Y/N] | Slow Burn | Romance | Eventual Smut | Fluff | Angst || SFW | WC: 3.6k

beta reader: @silcoitus <3!

ao3 || Masterlist || Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

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You feel drained after you let go of Silco’s hand, as if all the strength leaves your body when the point of contact is broken. When you feel the urge to yawn again, you don’t suppress it. Silco doesn’t notice, already turned away from you to examine the photos again.

“Do you need anything else?” you ask him, belatedly realizing you haven’t offered him anything to drink yet. He shakes his head as you walk over to a cabinet to grab a cup. You shuffle some of the photos around to make room for it before setting it down on the table. “If you need water, there’s a pitcher in the refrigerator.”

“Thank you,” he says mechanically, too lost in thought to give you his full attention.

If this were any other guest, you’d be worried about being a proper host to them, but the late hour and the heist has worn you down. It makes you grateful that Silco has something to occupy himself with. 

The walk over to your wardrobe is difficult, fatigue dragging you down like quicksand. You grab some pajamas at random and toss them onto your bed, not caring if they match.

You reach around your back to unzip your dress. The puller does its best to elude your grasp, as if it can sense your eagerness to go to bed. When you finally grab and try to pull it down, it only unzips a small way before getting stuck, refusing to go any further.

You take a deep breath and hold it, exhaling slowly through your mouth to keep from cursing out loud. “Hey, Silco?”

He doesn’t respond. You turn around to see him sitting on a stool, legs outstretched as he holds up a photo to his face, studying it intently. He strokes his chin in deep thought.

“Silco?” you say again, walking towards him with your arm still behind you, pulling uselessly at the zipper. “Could you help me out, please?”

He finally looks up when you stand next to him. “My apologies. Did you need something?”

“Can you get this zipper for me?” you ask. You tug at it. You feel another notch open before the puller stops again, as if to taunt you.

“Sure.”

 You turn around to present your back to him, lowering your arm to your side. The stool scrapes against the ground as he swivels to face you. His first attempt with the zipper is as fruitless as your own.

Silco tsks in annoyance. “You would think that Topsiders of all people, with all of their wealth and resources, would know how to engineer a fully functional zipper.”

“Yeah,” you say absentmindedly. The dress moves up and down against your skin as Silco yanks repeatedly, using more strength with each try. Gradually, you feel the zipper yield more and more, and then—

ZZZZIP!! Goosebumps ripple from your shoulders all the way down to the small of your back at the sudden exposure to the cool air.

“Woah!” You step forwards in alarm, spinning around to prevent Silco from seeing even more of your body as the dress slips down your shoulders.

“I’m sorry!” Silco throws an arm in front of his eyes, blocking his view. “I swear it was an accident, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, too tired to be embarrassed. “Just keep your eyes closed.”

“I didn’t see anything,” he says apologetically, squashing his face deep into the crook of his elbow. “The zipper was being stubborn and I was trying not to break it—”

“Don’t worry about it,” you say. “Are your eyes closed?”

He nods furiously. You take the opportunity to step out of your dress entirely. When you turn it over in your hands, you see that the fabric is still intact. However, the puller is about to fall off, a small piece of it broken away from your and Silco’s combined efforts. It detaches entirely when you try to pull the zipper up. 

Hopefully you’ll remember to repair it later when you put the dress away. It’s a small price to pay to finally be able to undress after a long night. You hang it up and put the puller in a wardrobe drawer before taking off your underwear, burying them deep in a hamper.

“If there’s anything I can do to earn your forgiveness, just say the word,” he says worriedly, his arm still over his eyes. “I can never be sorry enough—”

“It’s not a big deal, don’t beat yourself up about it.” You grab your pajamas again and head for the bathroom, pulling the door almost fully closed. Through the crack in the door, you call out to him, “Do you need anything before I shower?”

“Would you like me to leave? I understand if—”

“I forgive you, Silco,” you say with a chuckle. “Just don’t touch my dress again.”

“I can assure you, it will never happen again,” he promises earnestly.

When you shut the door, you fight the urge to laugh out loud. His boyish embarrassment is a different side of him that you haven’t seen before. It’s refreshing to see when compared to his usual noble and dignified bearing of a revolutionary, his unyielding conviction so bright that it beams out of him like sunrays.

You let out a relieved sigh when you turn on the shower, setting the temperature to a comforting warmth. The water soothes you as you stand with your eyes closed, the heat warming through your skin into your bones.

Your thoughts drift back to Silco’s earlier request as you begin washing yourself. How serious was he about wanting your help on “future ventures”? Are the Children of Zaun in such dire need of people that they’ll recruit anyone and everyone? 

In another life, you could see yourself joining their ranks, maybe even fighting alongside Silco. After all, you love the Undercity just as much as he does. Despite your lack of battle prowess, you could make yourself useful to them in other ways.

But yours and Silco’s reactions to tonight’s events were so different. He wasn’t afraid of getting caught, even when the councilor almost walked in on him during the burglary. Meanwhile, your own nerves were so fried past the point of anxiety, it’s a wonder you were able to make it through the rest of the night at all. 

And now, even after the mission is over, he’s still up and about, ready for a full debrief while you just want to collapse into bed.

It goes without saying, you prefer your current job anyways. It’s much less hazardous and you don’t have to get into fights with Enforcers. Probably the most dangerous thing you’ve encountered in your line of work was a poorly trained pet Poro; its owners were a wealthy Topside couple who wanted you to paint a portrait of it. It wouldn’t sit still during your painting sessions, expressing its deep distrust of strangers with angry headbutts and hostile growls. You spent more of your time trying to befriend it instead of painting it, and you were handsomely rewarded when you finally completed its portrait. The couple also tipped you generously every time it bit you, which was a nice perk you hadn’t asked for.

You don’t have to risk arrest, bodily injury, or death whenever you sit down with a client. And you certainly don’t feel the same sense of accomplishment after a mission that Silco does.

The rebel life isn’t for you.  

As you shut off the water and begin toweling yourself dry, you speculate if you’re being presumptuous. Silco had only asked for your assistance; he hadn’t asked you to join the Children. There’s no need to overextend yourself.

But it makes you wonder: would Silco still seek out your company if he doesn’t need your help anymore? You’ve been useful to him so far, but there’s no telling if you can still be valuable to him in the future. That thought makes you a little sad, but that’s quickly overturned by confusion. Why should you be sad if Silco doesn’t want to see you again? You’re not even friends. Even before tonight, he was practically a stranger to you.

In fact, you’re not sure why you’re so worked up about Silco and the other Children potentially dying during their next heist. Of course, you hate the idea of anyone—especially your fellow Zaunites—getting hurt, but people die in the Undercity every day. Sometimes it’s not even at the hands of Enforcers, but just plain bad luck.

But then you remember Silco’s easy confidence and his bright smiles. His genuine passion for the Undercity that burns hotter in him than in anyone else you’ve ever met. He doesn’t just hope that Zaun will become free and independent—he knows it, as if it’s an inevitable future that no one else can see but him. It’s easy to picture him leading a charge against Piltover, or in a suit and tie at the Council’s table, ordering the other politicians around with an iron fist.

For your whole life, you’ve wanted the same things as him.

But some instinct tells you that the spark—the one that could bring about real change—is in Silco.

He has his own methods of working towards that dream, and you have yours. But someday, you want to see the same future that he does, with your own eyes.

After finishing up the rest of your bedtime routine, you grab a new toothbrush and exit the bathroom. You find Silco lying on the ground next to your bed, using his backpack as a makeshift pillow. The photos are stacked neatly on the kitchen table and the cup is in the sink.

You crouch down next to him and tap his shoulder with the toothbrush. “Here. Go brush your teeth.”

He looks at the toothbrush, then back up at you. “You’ve already given me too much tonight—”

“It’s fine. Go brush your teeth. You didn’t use mine already, did you?” you ask jokingly.

“I would never,” he says, aghast. “Are you sure?”

You nod. He smiles again and takes the toothbrush from you. “Thank you so much.”

Both of you stand up at the same time. He heads towards the bathroom while you walk over to the washer, pulling Silco’s clothes out to stuff them in the dryer. Then, you head to your closet, pulling out a sleeping bag and a pillow. You set these down on the floor next to the bed just as Silco comes out again.

“You’ve shown me a tremendous amount of generosity tonight,” he says gratefully. “I hope you’ll allow me to repay you in the future.”

“Mmm,” you hum at him, too sleepy for words. You shuffle towards the light switch.

Before you can flick them off, Silco unzips the sleeping bag.

“Get in the bed, Silco,” you say firmly.

“I won’t take your bed from you,” he protests. “The ground is more than good enough for me.”

“Get in the damn bed, Silco. And go to sleep,” you say as firmly as you can, considering that you’re ready to flop onto the floor yourself.

He looks at you in silence for a moment, then climbs into your bed and tucks himself in.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

“Don’t mention it,” you grunt.

You turn off the lights. The blankets rustle as he settles in, and you flop onto the sleeping bag, not bothering to slide into it.

Silco calls out your name into the dark. “Good night.”

“Good night, Silco,” you mumble.

All too soon, the beeping of your alarm clock announces the start of a new day, its loud ringing jerking you into wakefulness. You hastily scramble up off the floor and smack it off. 

In yesterday’s craziness, it’s understandable that you forgot to silence it. Luckily, Silco is still slumbering peacefully when you look over at him, the blanket rising and falling slowly with his deep breaths.

You get ready for the day as quietly as possible before making breakfast. Even though you move as carefully and as slowly as possible, every tiny movement seems to reverberate and echo throughout your small apartment. Soon enough, Silco yawns loudly behind you, stretching his long arms when you turn around to greet him.

“Good morning,” you say with a smile, your patience fully restored after a full night’s rest. “Hope you’re hungry.”

He rolls over to face you. He looks so comfortable and vulnerable with tousled hair and heavy-lidded eyes, you feel a little bad for disturbing his sleep. Something about his smile today makes your heart skip a beat, a nervous flare tickling the edges of your nerves. 

“Good morning,” he says drowsily. “Did you make breakfast?”

“Yeah, it’s almost ready.”

“You didn’t have to,” he says, astonished. “I’ve abused your hospitality for far too long already.”

“Well, you’re not going anywhere,” you say, pointing out your window. The skies are still steel-gray and wet, rain drumming harshly on the glass. “Do you want to keep sleeping?”

He shakes his head, sitting up slowly and stretching again. “It would be a poor repayment of your kindness to let the food grow cold. May I use your restroom?”

“Sure,” you say as you grab plates and utensils. “Your clothes should be ready now, they’re in the dryer.”

Silco grabs his clothes before heading to the bathroom. He returns wearing his outfit from last night, dumping the borrowed garments in your washer. He helps you set the table and pour tea. 

You plate a full spread for both your guest and yourself: bacon, eggs, toast, sausage, and fresh fruit. 

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like so I made a little bit of everything,” you say. “I hope you like it.”

“This looks delicious, thank you,” he says enthusiastically, pulling a stool out for you. He takes a seat and starts on the meat, cutting up the sausage. “Would you mind me asking what you were doing at the councilor’s last night?”

“Salo wanted a status update on the mural,” you say, after swallowing a mouthful of fruit.

“Was that the full extent of his intentions?” Silco asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Sure,” you shrug. “What else could he want?”

He pushes his eggs around with his fork, as if he might find the right words to say on his plate. 

In a diplomatic tone, he says, “You were dressed quite… well. And you were upstairs.”

“So?”

“His sleeping quarters are upstairs.”

You look up from your meal, skeptical.

“Perhaps you weren’t wrong about Salo wanting a Zaunite mistress,” he wonders aloud.

“No way,” you snort. “As if a gentleman of his caliber would ever deign to consort with the fissure folk.”

“You were invited to dinner at his home, were you not?” he smirks.

“I’m just his employee, that’s all,” you say.

“You’d be surprised at how many men have an appetite for that,” he says. 

 “Salo’s not just any Piltie, he’s one of the ‘elites.’ A Zaunite would never be good enough for him,” you say matter-of-factly, rolling your eyes.

“I must admit I don’t know many from the Undercity who work in such close proximity to the Council,” he says, piercing a piece of sausage with his fork. “You’re the only one I know, actually,” he adds thoughtfully.

“We’re all just… dirty little animals, in their eyes,” you say bitterly. “And they’ll throw us a bone every now and then if we’re ‘one of the good ones’ that ‘earned’ it.”

You spoon more food into your mouth to cut yourself off from rambling. It doesn’t seem fair to complain about your clientele; they pay and treat you well enough, and there are plenty of other poor and unemployed Zaunites who would kill to have a job like yours.

But surprisingly, Silco nods his head in agreement. “It’s about esteem and opportunity. Everything they’ve denied us.”

He puts his fork down and stares out your window. His profile is handsome, and his proud manner is accentuated when he lifts his chin high, as if to address an imaginary crowd.

“We’ll earn their respect once we show them we have the power,” he says quietly. ”A united underground will be an entity they cannot ignore, a force they must reckon with… the Nation of Zaun.” 

“Wow… ‘the Nation of Zaun’…” you say in awe. “I like the sound of that.”

It’s a commonly held sentiment in the Undercity, but you’ve never heard that phrase before. You almost regret expressing your admiration, though, when Silco turns to you, no doubt ready to spring into another monologue about Zaun.

“I’ve spoken enough about the Undercity, haven’t I,” he says, frowning. “I hope I haven’t been a tedious houseguest.”

“No, you’re fine. It’s been a while since I’ve met anyone in your line of work,” you reassure him, surprised by his thoughtfulness. “It’s good to know that there are still people out there fighting the good fight.”

“We’ll fight for as long as it takes,” he says grimly. His jaw shifts as he bites his tongue, as if he’s physically forcing himself to change the subject. “Will you be painting the mural today?”

“Probably not; it’s going to rain again tomorrow,” you say. You smile at him, glad for the change in topic. There’s only so many ways you can tell Silco you agree with him without repeating yourself verbatim.

He proves himself to be a good conversationalist, asking you about yourself and showing genuine interest in your answers. Considering the rocky start to your relationship, you have a decent amount in common with Silco: you were both born and raised in the Fissures, survivors of lean and tumultuous childhoods that every Sumpsnipe endures. Your initial guess at his age was right; he’s only a few months older than you.

The similarities end there. He only has vague memories of living with his parents before they left him in an orphanage among the Sumps; he was told it was an act of compassion, as they had passed away shortly afterwards, succumbing to the Zaun gray like so many others. On the other hand, you’ve never known any family besides the staff at the orphanage you lived in. Your own career as a painter pulled you up and out of Zaun, while Silco worked as a miner for many years. He and his companions managed to carve out the Lanes, founding the Children of Zaun when they rallied enough like-minded people to pose a significant fighting force.

Slowly, slowly, the rain passes during your meal. Just as you’re both finishing up, the sun peeks through silvery clouds. Silco insists on helping you with the dishes but you shoo him away. He relegates himself to double-checking that all the photos you took are in his backpack.

“Wait up,” you call out to him as he puts on his boots. You walk over to your supplies and pull out the tube of blueprints for the scissor lift. It feels like a lifetime ago that he asked to borrow them in that alleyway, even if it’s only been a few weeks. “Do you still need these?”   

He looks surprised, then nods. “You are truly a fountain of generosity.”

When he kneels and opens his backpack again, you hesitate.

“You… you better give these back when you’re done with them,” you say slowly. You hold the blueprints close to your chest, reluctant to hand them over. Some illogical voice in your head tells you that he won’t go to the heist if he doesn’t have the schematics, and that withholding them will somehow guarantee his safety.  

“I will,” he says with conviction. His eyes are bright and full of promise. “I hope it’s alright to hold onto them for a while. We have much work to do first.” He extends a hand out to you.

“You’ll come find me after the raid, right?” you ask. You try to swallow your fear, clenching a fist tight around the tube to keep from trembling.

“Of course,” he says gently. “But I would be remiss not to warn you. If the worst should come to pass—”

“But it won’t, right?” you cut him off. “You promised.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Silco smiles softly at you, eyes crinkling with warmth.

You stare at him. He has that certainty on his face, his unwavering belief that can’t be shaken despite your own fears. 

Just as much as he believes in the Undercity, he believes in himself, too.

Finally, you step forward, placing the container in his hand. His smile widens as he takes it, placing it carefully in his backpack.

You open the door for him as he slings his backpack over his shoulders. When he stands up again, you step back to give him room to leave. 

But he walks up to you first, placing a hand on your shoulder. You freeze as you look up at him, your skin flushing underneath his touch.

“I am in your debt,” he says solemnly, clear turquoise eyes gazing into you. “I will do all that I can to repay it.”

“It’s fine, Silco,” you say in a low voice. “Good luck.”

“Thank you.”

He walks backwards away from you, waving goodbye energetically. You wave back at him, lowering your hand only when he turns the corner and disappears. 

You stand in the doorway, turning to look in the direction of Piltover. You can’t see the city from here, but you squint past the many buildings and the bridge towards the Councilor’s tower. 

Maybe granting independence to the Undercity is too much to ask of Topside, but if Silco comes back to you safe and unharmed, that’ll be good enough for now. 

The rest can come another day. 

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[nautilusdrake]

Curse of Strahd Spoilers:

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Tatyana Federovna Revénovka - (1042 DE)

———

Sergei left with wave and strode through the post office door with a smile on his face.

It was short lived, and instantly knocked aside when he ran into someone trying to leave.

The force was enough for both of them to drop their packages and he quickly darted down to the floor.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!”

“That’s alright. My fault, really.”

A pair of hands went down to meet his, and Sergei followed them up to the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Her auburn hair stood out against the green of her dress, and her eyes captured the light in a way he had never seen. The specks of chestnut and amber seemed to glow, and her pupils shined like twinkling stars.

“Are these yours?”

Her voice—Her voice was so… It echoed in his ears; a gleaming melody that wrapped around his heart and soul.

At her question, he finally forced himself to look down and saw what she was trying to give him; His letters and glasses were in a neat stack in her hand.

He had completely forgotten he was wearing them…

“Oh, um, thank you,” He quickly got to his feet and offered a hand down to help her.

She took it with a grin and he felt his heart skip a beat.

“I—I really didn’t mean to run into you, m-my lady.” His face felt hot and he quickly looked away to put on his glasses.

She chuckled, “It’s really okay! Honestly, I’ve had far worse encounters.”

“Oh. I’m sorry…”

She laughed, and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard.

“Sorry that it wasn’t worse?”

“Oh! Oh no, I didn’t mean that at all—!”

She laughed again, “I’m sorry, sir, I was only teasing.”

He gulped and nervously pulled at his collar. However, her infectious smile got the better of him and he felt his own grin starting pull at his cheeks.

“But, I suppose that’s rather rude of me if I haven’t even introduced myself.” She stuck out her hand and he shakily took it into his own, “Tatyana Revénovka.”

[darlingdreadwrites]

Halloween (She's So Mean)

THIS IS A SECOND PART OF AN AU. IF THIS IS THE FIRST POST YOU SEE, I SUGGEST YOU CLICK ON THIS (“MAIN STORY”) TO READ THE FIRST PART OF THIS AU!!

pairing: Jeff the Killer x GN!Reader

summary: After arriving at Mr. Mann’s Manor of Frights, you decide to walk around.

contains: haunted house with jeff, scare actor jeff, making out and it’s slightly nsfw (under the red divider!!)

warnings: name calling (slut is used), he’s dressed as a murderous clown with blood on him and a fake knife

word count: 1.3k

masterlist

a.n: don’t be following or shamelessly flirt with scare-actors unless you know them personally and they’re ok with it PLEASE

“I want to just walk around,” you tell your friends. They nodded, walking deeper into the festival grounds.

Every few seconds, screams and laughter surround you – all thanks to the scare-actors scattered about. You feel a buzzing thrill under your skin, a mixture of excitement and nervousness propelling you further. You glance at your left, unaware of a man ready to leap out at you.

“Gotcha!”

You stumble back with a yelp, bumping into one of your friends. The man before you, dressed like a murderous clown, laughs maniacally. His sleek, black leather jumpsuit is zipped down just enough to expose a provocative amount of lean, scarred skin of his torso. Blood is splattered over his pale skin. His makeup enhances his almost-white skin, with dark red eyeshadow sweeping across his eyelids and extending under his eyes. The classic clown look is evident in the sharp diamond shapes that stretch from above his eyebrows to his cheeks. A black upside-down cross is drawn on his forehead, while black face-paint is made to look like his mouth is stretched out. Streaks of dried blood trail from his red lips down to his chin, completing the scary look.

You barely have time to respond before he leans in with a devilish grin – your heart hammers in your chest.  You think he’s about to say something else but he only winks at you. He turns quickly to find his next victim, leaving you bewildered and breathless.

You and your friends continue to explore the festival, but your thoughts are stuck on that encounter. You wander through the festival, trying to shake off the chill that his presence left on you. But it doesn’t matter how many fun booths you pass or how many jokes your friends make, he has carved himself into your brain. You want to believe it was only because he effectively scared you.

You start to lose yourself in the atmosphere, the tension in your shoulders easing. The interaction seems to be behind you and your group has moved on to playing games. You’re standing near a brightly lit game stall, watching as your friend fails to properly throw a ball at a bottle. You laugh as another friend steps up to help – only to fail just as terribly.

“Miss me?” Someone whispers, their breath hot on your ear.

You spin toward him, coming face to face with the scare-actor from earlier. He’s so close that you can smell the leather of his suit and a faint scent of nicotine. He laughs sharply, causing you to shrink back against a wall behind you. When he pulls back his arm way too swiftly, you almost scream.

“You’re so hot!” You blurt out without thinking, closing your eyes tightly. Oh, fuck. You’re supposed to be scared. His job is to scare you, and here you were, declaring how hot you think he is.

Your eyes go wide in horror, and you seem to have genuinely caught him off guard for a moment. His taunting grin falters, and his eyes are just as wide as yours. Your face feels like hot coal when he bursts out into loud laughter. He doubles over, one of his hands pressed against his stomach. Your friends join in on his laughter, and you would have kicked him if your embarrassment hadn’t caused you to freeze.

“Oh, god, you –“ he gasps for air between laughs. “What kinda reaction – Jesus!”

“That wasn’t – I didn’t mean to – “You stammer out. You’re absofuckinglutely mortified.

“Nah, nah, you can’t take that back,” he teases as he calms down. Before you can answer, he grabs your wrist and it’s surprisingly gentle. “Since you think I’m so hot, I’m takin’ you with me. That okay?”

“Okay – “

You barely have time to look back at your friends who are now cheering for you. You’d get them back for this for sure. He’s dragging you through the maze of people, and you have to fight to keep up. He’s leading you toward the mansion, undoubtedly heading to one of the haunted experiences. Curious festivalgoers in lines watch as he skips to the entrance of one.

“C’mon, gorgeous,” he drawls, nodding at the worker who steps to the side to let you two in. he looks over his shoulder to flash you a smirk, but he’s also studying your reaction. “Unless you’re too scared.”

You’re too stunned and excited to resist, following silently behind him. A part of you really seems to like how he’s treating you. It was a strange mix of actions – like he was controlling you, but also giving you a chance to refuse. Not that you would refuse.

The inside of the attraction is dark and disorienting. The lights flicker above and cast eerie shows in the already creepy hallway. Every time an animatronic or an actor jumped out, you’d walk a little closer to Jeff. At one point, he got so tired of you practically squishing yourself against his arm that he just wrapped an arm around your shoulders. He pressed the palm of his hand against the side of your head, pulling you closer to him.

“What’s the matter?” He whispers, his lips lightly grazing your ear, and the warmth of his breath causes your brain to short-circuit. “Scared?”

Jeff is relentless, making jokes and flirting to break the tension. You attempt to match his energy, even if it is a bit shaky. A flurry of butterflies weighs heavily on your chest. He leads you down somewhere clearly off of the main path. He pulls back a curtain, revealing a door with a sign that reads “Employees Only.” He opens it with no issue before turning around. He stands in front of the dark corridor, the shadows framing his silhouette. He holds your wrist loosely, giving you another hint that you can stop this at any time.

“Wanna have some fun?” he asks, tilting his head. His tone then takes on a mocking lilt. “Promise I won’t bite… too hard.”

You hesitate for just a millisecond before stepping closer. That’s all the encouragement he needs, his grip on your wrist tightening. Who were you to say no?

“That’s my stupid little slut,” he purrs, walking backwards into the darkly lit hallway and pulling you with him. He looks at you and back to the door – another exit, he seems to be telling you. But you don’t move.

He closes it and the sounds behind it immediately sound muffled and distant. He stares down at you with a charged mischief that almost has your knees buckling. He holds up his prop knife, the flat side of the plastic blade lightly tapping against your cheek. He leans in, his breath hitting your face.

“Last chance to run, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low. He’s surprisingly considerate as his eyes search yours for any hint of uncertainty.

You’re too caught up in the moment to respond as your hands tangle into Jeff’s hair to pull him into an open-mouthed kiss. He doesn’t waste a second, immediately closing the distance. You can taste the copper that lingers in his mouth – fake blood, probably – but it only adds to the intoxicating thrill of the moment.

Your back hits the cold wall, the sharp pain tingling just enough to make you crave his closeness even more. He nips at your lower lip and grips your waist tightly. As his tongue delves into your mouth, one of his knees slips between your legs. He rolls his knee lightly against your clothed groin, the fabric of your jeans stimulating you just right. You moan into his mouth, and he drinks it up greedily, his slippery muscle sliding against yours.

Your hand presses flat against his stomach, the warmth mixing with the heat of your palm. Neither of you seemed to remember – or care – about the blood on his torso. It was dried by now, so, as you trailed your hand up his chest, the substance flaked off onto your hand.

You don’t know how long you had been gone, but all you knew was that you had lots of fun. You just didn’t think what you had done was obvious. That was until your friends squealed when you came back, pointing at and teasing you about the makeup staining the area around your mouth.