#the first one of him got stepped on and lost his head and now his replacement is missing 3/4 of his limbs

[mclacedes]

Shameless (LN4 SMAU)

3. i'd rather say... unforgettable

warnings: suggestive content

summary: in which Lando prolongs the night with Y/N after his maiden victory in Miami

pairing: lando norris x fem!singer!stella!reader

face claim: camila cabello / kendall jenner

WC: 2.1k

✧ previously • next up

the monopoly game had turned into a chaotic mix of wits, jokes, and increasingly ridiculous bets. unsurprisingly, lando was loving every minute of it. each roll of the dice seemed to land in his favor, and he was absolutely shameless about it. his grin grew wider with every new property he snatched up, while the rest of you exchanged tired, defeated glances.

“i swear, you’ve rigged the dice,” max fewtrell grumbled, staring at the board like it was some kind of conspiracy. “how do you keep landing on unclaimed spaces?”

lando leaned back, balancing on two chair legs with that smug grin of his. “it’s not rigged, mate. it’s just skill.”

“it’s literally dice, you idiot,” verstappen shot back, shaking his head. “you’ve just got dumb luck, that’s all.”

lewis was the first to throw in the towel, stretching dramatically before standing up. “alright, i’m too old for this nonsense. you lot can stay up ruining each other’s lives, but i’m going to bed.”

“because you lost,” lando teased, earning a sharp look from lewis.

“no, because i value my sanity,” lewis replied, waving him off as he walked out.

soon after, charles and pierre called it quits, muttering something about needing beauty sleep. “good luck, y/n,” pierre said as he passed you, his tone half teasing, half pitying. “you’re going to need it with this one.”

“i don’t need luck,” you shot back, even though your dwindling monopoly money suggested otherwise.

the night dragged on, and the group continued to dwindle. george and verstappen left together, grumbling about their losses and promising vengeance next time.

lando’s reign of terror continued, but even carlos had his limits. with a tired yawn, he pushed himself up. “alright, i’m done. unlike some people, i’d like to wake up tomorrow feeling human.”

“lightweight,” lando teased, eyes sparkling with amusement.

carlos ignored him and turned to you. “don’t let him get away with everything, y/n.”

“i’ll try,” you replied with a smirk.

when the door closed behind you and lando, the silence of the hallway felt almost unsettling. you turned back to lando, who was now lazily stacking his fake bills in a showy display.

“well, congratulations,” you said, crossing your arms. “you’ve officially ruined monopoly for me.”

“ruined?” he asked, feigning offense. “i’ve elevated it. you’ve just never played with someone as talented as me before.”

“you’re insufferable,” you said, shaking your head with a laugh.

“and yet, here you are,” lando replied smoothly, standing up and grabbing the bottle of jack daniel’s from the floor.

his gaze flickered toward you, a mixture of mischief and challenge in his green eyes. “the night isn’t over yet, cinderella.”

you followed him to the elevator, the soft hum of the hotel filling the quiet between you. the building felt oddly calm compared to the chaos of the game.

“where’s your room?” he asked, pressing the button for the 10th floor.

“10th floor,” you replied.

“we're in the same floor. that's nice.”

lando nodded thoughtfully, his eyes briefly meeting yours with a grin. the elevator doors slid open, and he stepped inside, you following close behind. the soft hum of the elevator filled the silence as lando pressed the button without saying a word.

“you think the night’s over?” he asked, his grin still intact.

“well, i’m cinderella, am i not?”

“i thought you hated that nickname.”

“i do, norris. but if the shoe fits… you really need to stop calling me that, though.”

“no chance,” he said quickly, leaning his head back against the elevator wall with a smirk. “you’re like a fairy tale princess—just a little more sarcastic.”

“and iconic, thank you very much.”

“i’d say… unforgettable.”

the elevator ride felt unusually long with the playful tension swirling between you two. lando’s eyes, usually bright with humor, seemed to linger on you a bit longer than normal, but he said nothing, as if waiting for you to make the next move.

finally, the elevator chimed and the doors slid open, and you stepped out into the quiet hallway of the 10th floor. lando gestured toward the hall with a casual sweep of his hand.

“after you, princess,” he teased, his voice warm with an edge of genuine amusement.

you shot him a mock glare but walked ahead anyway. the floor was quieter than the others, and the soft carpet underfoot absorbed the sound of your steps as you reached his door. lando opened it with a quick swipe of his keycard, the door clicking softly as it swung open. with a smooth gesture, he motioned for you to step inside.

lando’s room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the city outside filtering through the curtains. it wasn’t much different from your own, but there was something oddly intimate about being in his space, something that made the air feel charged.

the room had a laid-back vibe, reflecting lando’s personality in every little detail. modern furnishings lined the walls, and the city lights cast soft shadows, giving the space a quiet, almost cozy feeling.

you glanced around before turning back to him. he tossed the bottle of jack daniel’s onto the counter and poured himself a generous amount into a glass, clearly not needing to measure anymore. he’d done this enough times to know exactly how much to pour.

“one more drink?” he offered, holding out the glass.

“you never stop drinking, do you?”

“you talk as if i’m an alcoholic... ouch.” he smirked. “i don’t usually drink much, but i just won my first race. and the night isn’t over, you’ve just said it yourself, babe.”

you hesitated for a moment before shaking your head. “well, i don’t drink whiskey,” you said, narrowing your eyes.

“wine, then?”

“yeah, much better. but only because you owe me for that monopoly humiliation.”

“fair deal,” he said with a grin, grabbing a bottle of wine from the mini bar and uncorking it with practiced ease. he poured a generous amount into each glass, handing one over to you. he clinked his glass lightly against yours. “to your valiant, albeit unsuccessful, effort.”

“cheers,” you said, rolling your eyes but unable to hide the smile that tugged at your lips.

you took a sip, enjoying the smooth taste of the wine, though your mind was still on the game. “so, what’s the plan now?” you asked, leaning against the desk.

he paused for a moment, his eyes on you, as if weighing something in his mind before returning to the counter.

his eyes were locking onto yours with an unspoken challenge. "what if i said i was planning on making sure you didn’t leave until you’ve had your fill of fun tonight?"

you raised an eyebrow, unsure whether he was being serious or just messing with you. "and if i say i’m fine with just having one drink?"

you chuckled and took a small sip from your glass, the warmth of the alcohol mingling with the chill in the air. you hadn’t expected the night to go like this, but something about it felt... right. comfortable. easy.

as the minutes stretched on, there was a quiet shift in the atmosphere, one you couldn’t quite put your finger on. lando’s usual teasing tone had softened, and you began to notice the little things—the way his gaze lingered on you a moment longer than normal, the way the space between you seemed to shrink without either of you acknowledging it.

you realized that this wasn’t just a casual drink. it was something more, something that you weren’t entirely ready to define yet.

lando’s voice broke through your thoughts. “you know,” he said, his tone a little quieter now, “i’m glad you decided to come up here. you make the night a lot more interesting.”

you met his gaze, your smile faltering for just a second as the weight of his words settled in. “i’m glad i did too,” you said softly, the playful teasing fading into something deeper, more sincere.

the conversation flowed easily, just as it always did with lando. he had a way of making you laugh even when you wanted to stay mad at him. but beneath the jokes and teasing, there was something quieter—an unspoken tension that neither of you addressed.

at some point, you found yourself sitting on the edge of his bed, the soft clink of your glass against the nightstand breaking the silence. lando leaned against the wall near the window, his gaze fixed on you.

“you’re surprisingly quiet,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

“just thinking,” he replied, his voice low.

“dangerous for you,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

he chuckled, but his eyes didn’t lose their intensity. “you’re different tonight.”

“different how?”

he tilted his head, studying you for a moment before shaking his head. “i don't think i should...”

you frowned, but before you could press him, he straightened up and walked over, sitting down beside you.

“thanks for sticking around,” he said softly, his tone sincere in a way that made your chest tighten.

“someone had to make sure your ego didn’t completely inflate,”you joked, though your voice wavered slightly.

lando smiled, but his eyes lingered on yours, and for a moment, you were acutely aware of how close you were. the air seemed to shift, the silence between you heavy with something unspoken.

“cinderella,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“yeah?”

he didn’t answer right away, his gaze dropping briefly before meeting yours again. “nothing. just… thanks for tonight.”

you smiled, trying to ignore the way your heart raced. “you’re welcome, norris.”

he laughed softly, shaking his head. “you really know how to ruin a moment.”

“someone has to keep you grounded.”

“lucky me,” he murmured, his voice carrying a warmth that lingered long after the words left his lips.

you both sat there for a moment, the weight of the silence between you thickening. your heart pounded in your chest, and you could feel the tension rising in the air. lando's gaze never wavered from yours, his expression unreadable, though there was something in his eyes that made your breath catch.

without thinking, you leaned in just a little, a small shift that seemed to change everything. lando’s eyes flickered down to your lips before he moved closer, his hand reaching up to gently touch your cheek, as if he was asking for permission without saying a word.

you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin, and before you could second-guess yourself, your lips met in a soft, tentative kiss. it was brief at first, a simple brush of his mouth against yours, but it sent a wave of electricity through your body.

lando pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his voice barely audible. “you sure about this?”

you took a deep breath, your hand reaching up to rest on his chest. “yeah,” you whispered, “i’m sure.”

and this time, when your lips met again, it was deeper, more urgent, as if the world around you had melted away.

THE MORNING AFTER

the sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room as you slowly stirred awake. your head throbbed painfully, a reminder of last night’s overindulgence, and you blinked against the haze clouding your mind. you were still in the same dress from the previous night, though your shoes were nowhere to be found. the bed felt unfamiliar, yet oddly comforting as you slowly sat up, the sheets sliding off your legs.

the soft sound of running water reached your ears, and you realized lando was in the bathroom, the sound of his shower filling the silence of the room. your thoughts were a blur—flashes of laughter, the heat of his kiss, the tension that had built between you two—and you couldn’t help but wonder just how far things had gone last night. everything felt like a blur, a dream that was slipping through your fingers as you tried to piece it together.

your head was pounding from the hangover, and the confusion only made it worse. you ran a hand through your hair, sighing as you tried to shake the lingering fog from your mind. there was no denying that something had happened between you and lando, but the details were fuzzy, and you weren’t sure what it all meant.

without overthinking it, you stood up, your legs feeling a little unsteady as you glanced around the room. you didn’t want to deal with it now, not with the pounding in your head and the uncertainty clouding your thoughts. without another moment of hesitation, you grabbed your shoes from where they were discarded on the floor, quickly slipped them on, and quietly left the room, trying to ignore the pit forming in your stomach.

INSTAGRAM

ynstella

📍who invited hangover

❤️ by landonorris, mclaren, bellahadid and more

ynstella: turns out a night doesn't end after midnight for this cinderella. thank you, miami. you're unforgettable ❤️‍🔥🏹

tagged: landonorris

click here to open comment section

landonorris: "congrats lando" would be nice yk

ynstella: i feel like that's all i've said these past hours 😭

landofan1: a hard launch???

ynstella: what does that even mean?

ynfan2: MOTHER HI

ynfan44: shut down those rumour mother

landofan66: girl that caption is only shutting my system down

landofan17: i wonder who took that first pic...

landonorris: tried to shift my focus by looking pretty and all but you still owe me some money for last night

ynstella: i'm never playing monopoly w you again norris

maxverstappen1: i'm never playing monopoly w you again norris

carlossainz55: i'm never playing monopoly w you again norris

georgerussell63: i'm never playing monopoly w you again norris

lewishamilton: yeah same

ynstella: BREAKING! ancient man breaks a chain and gets beaten up by a singer

bellahadid: SO PRETTYYYY pls let's get married

ynstella: going 🏃‍♀️

landonorris: what about me tho?

oscarpiastri: they're gonna take your phone again

mclaren: speak louder osc

bellahadid: oops... 🤭

ynfan67: that's my wife right there

landonorris: hey bolter, nice to see you

ynfan6: the aesthetic 😩

ynfan18: can we talk about these comments tho?

ynfan19: lando's comments specifically

ynfan20: there MUST be something going on

landonorris: cute caption 🙃

landofan5: what is that supposed to mean sir???

ynfan23: EXCUSEZ MOI???

ynfan20: i'm dying.

ynfan21: girl i'm already dead.

[lady-of-blossoms]

WHEN LOVE FADES

Pairings: Toji x Y/N

From this poll

synopsis: Toji’s relationship with Y/N was always a little tricky but Y/N still stayed even though her friends told Y/N how he wasn’t a good partner until he forgets their anniversary and leaves Y/N waiting for him at the restaurant for 6 hours, then when Y/N finally realizes Their love faded.

WC: 1k

CONTENT WARNING: Toji is an asshole, he forgets about your anniversary, alcohol abuse, A HELLA LOT OF ANGST, Fighting, Blaming.

A/N: Sorry this was so unintimate, i didnt have much motivation. Class has been really hard on me rn:(

I sat at a small table, a single white candle flickering in the center, illuminating the carefully crafted menu that lay untouched before me. The whispers of other couples floated around, filled with laughter and sweet nothings. I glanced at the clock for the umpteenth time. It was 9:30 PM, and the reservation had been at 3:00 PM. I could almost hear my friends’ voices in my head, their warnings echoing like a distant memory.

“Y/N, you deserve better than Toji. He’s not good for you.”

But yet, here I was, waiting. Toji and I had always walked a tightrope of chaos and comfort, his flaws often eclipsed by a flicker of charm. He’d sweep me off my feet one moment and leave me questioning my worth the next.

I poured the last drops of water from the pitcher into my glass, staring through the translucent surface. The ashy blue of his eyes would twinkle with mischief, the kind that made my heart race in ways I didn’t even want to admit. But today, they felt as distant as he was.

By the time the waitress cleared my empty table—half-heartedly touching her arm as if to say “maybe you should go”—I felt the weight of hopelessness pressing down on me. Had I been foolish to wait? To believe that today would be different?

Suddenly, the bell above the restaurant door chimed, breaking through my encasing silence. I straightened, my heart stammering as I turned to see Toji step in. He looked disheveled and slightly out of breath, his typical swagger dampened by the despair that surrounded him.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed when his eyes found me—first a flash of relief and then, confusion.

“Where have you been, Toji?” I hardly recognized the coolness in my own voice.

“I… I lost track of time. Things got a bit out of hand.” He ran a hand through his messy black hair, something he did when he was trying to gather his thoughts.

My heart ached as the memories swirled around us—the fond moments we’d shared, entwined with uncertainty and unfulfilled promises. “You forgot our anniversary,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, but the tremor in my words betrayed me.

“I’m here now, right?” he said, and there was a hint of desperation in the smile he tried to muster. “Let’s make the best of it.”

“Six hours of waiting is a long ‘now,’ Toji.”

The flickering candlelight danced between us, casting shadows around the worn features of his face. “I know, and I’m sorry. I just… I lost track. It won’t happen again.”

But something shifted in my heart. Each year, we’d been caught in this carousel of doubt and affection, wit and sorrow. I could internalize this moment, mark it and brush it aside, but tonight, something felt irrevocable.

“The bill…” I started, but Toji cut me off with a wave of his hand, a look of guilt etching across his face.

“We can talk about that later.”

“Can we?” I challenged quietly, rage bubbling beneath the surface. “How many ‘laters’ do we have to go through before we face what’s real?”

His eyes flickered, and for a moment, I saw the man I fell in love with, his heart laid bare in the dim light, vulnerable and exposed. But just as quickly, he masked it with nonchalance.

“It was just a bad day, Y/N. We’ve all had them.”

This was our never-ending dialogue—Toji, the eternal optimist, hiding behind reasons and excuses, often leaping from the serious to the unserious, brushing aside feelings as if they were dust. And I, the craftsperson of resilience, sweeping them under the proverbial rug of sanity.

“Six hours, Toji.” I breathed, the hurt echoing in the quiet as I struggled to find reasons to hold on. “What if today wasn’t just a bad day? What if this is just how things are now?”

Toji remained silent, swirling the ice in his glass. It was haunting, the way he could make the space between us feel like a chasm filled with regrets. We used to dance around this exhaustion, always painfully avoiding the heart of the matter.

Realization hit me like a sudden rush of cold. Our love was unfurling like an old leaf disintegrating into dust. The passion, the thrill—it was fading.

“I don’t want to keep waiting, Toji. Not for you or anyone.” I could feel the tears pooling at the corners of my eyes, a testament to the years gone by.

“What are you saying?” His voice slipped, and I could see a hint of panic in his eyes.

“I think I’m saying goodbye.”

“I won’t let you go ma…” he stated fiercely, but even that sounded hollow amidst all the despair coursing between us.

“It’s not about wanting or not wanting. This isn’t working anymore. I’ve tried to hold our little family together long enough…” A silent pause filled the air, thick with words left unspoken. What once felt sacred was now fractured, barely held together by strands of laughter obscured by shadow.

Toji reached for my hand, squeezing it tight as if it would anchor him to the present moment. “Please, don’t walk away,” he begged, his voice raw and pleading.

But I needed to walk. I needed to step into the light of clarity, however painful. I wished I could splinter away his demons, sprinkle his life with joy and love, but you cannot save someone who doesn’t wish to be saved.

“I need to know I’m enough for myself first, Toji,” I whispered, wiping away the tears that had betrayed me. “Maybe one day, you’ll understand.”

With one last lingering look, I stood and slipped out of the restaurant, leaving echoes of what once was behind me, wrestling with the shadows of heartache, yet free from the chains of those delicious, yet debilitating memories.

I guess this really was WHEN LOVE FADES…

🏷️:

@bananaminn @morikosa @morikosahh

[faretheeoscar]

The Therapy Droid

Join the TagList! • Main Masterlist • Buy me a coffee! • Linktree

Content: grief, discussions of parent death, angst , comfort, fluff, mentions of panic/anxiety. Art is happy, but the fic is not really. Let me know if I missed any!

I got inspired by this reddit post I read a while ago about how BB-8 was once a therapy droid for Poe.

A/N: English is not my first language so I'm sorry if there’s any mistakes.

Word Count: 4.2k~

The jungle of Yavin 4 hummed with life as the sun dipped low, bathing the sky in hues of orange and violet. From the top step of their modest home, Poe Dameron sat hunched over, a model starfighter clutched loosely in his hands. His fingers traced its sleek wings and sharp edges, but his eyes were distant, fixed on nothing in particular.

It had been two months since his mother, Shara Bey, died.

For a boy of nine, grief was an incomprehensible thing. It wasn’t just sadness—it was a hollow, consuming ache that dulled every sound, every color. Poe barely touched the toys and star charts he once obsessed over. The jungle no longer called to him, nor did the excitement of exploring the Rebel base ruins nearby. Everything felt wrong without her.

His father, Kes Dameron, watched from the doorway. The death of Shara had left a hole in both their lives, but Kes had always been better at hiding his pain. He was a soldier, after all. He knew how to keep marching, even when the weight felt unbearable. But Poe? Poe was still a boy, one who had lost not just his mother, but his light.

Kes had tried everything to help—encouraging words, distractions, he had stayed on Yavin to try to spend time together with his son—but nothing seemed to break through. That’s until he spoke to some officers on Shara’s old team that contacted him with a New Republic doctor, a sympathetic Mon Calamari, who had suggested something new.

“Hey Flyboy,” Kes said gently, stepping out onto the porch. The boy didn’t move.

"Poe..."Kes crouched beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve been thinking. You’ve been through a lot... and I know that lately I haven’t been here for you, that you’ve stayed with your grandpa but… I think you need someone who can really be there for you, to help you.”

“I don’t need anyone,” Poe muttered, his voice sounding a little bit more sharp than it intended. His grip on the model starfighter tightened.

Kes hesitated, then pressed a button on the remote he’d been holding. From inside the house came a soft whirring sound, followed by the distinct chime of a droid powering on. A moment later, a small spherical astromech droid rolled into view, white and orange plating recently polished. Its head, a dome balanced impossibly above its ball-shaped body, swiveled with curiosity.

Poe’s brow furrowed. “Who… is this?”

“This,” Kes said with a small smile, “is BB-8. He’s a therapy droid. The New Republic’s been rolling them out for people who’ve had... a hard time.”

BB-8 beeped softly, his head tilting as if studying the boy. Poe’s brows knit together, suspicion tinged with annoyance. 

“I don’t need a droid” Poe said flatly.

“You might not think so,” Kes said, his voice steady, “but sometimes, having someone—something—to talk to helps. BB-8’s not just a machine. He’s designed to listen, to keep you company. To be your friend.”

BB-8 trolled softly, rolling a little closer. Poe eyed him warily, but the droid didn’t press further.

“You don’t have to decide now,” Kes said, standing. “But BB-8’s here for you. Give him a chance.”

BB-8 didn’t leave Poe’s side.

At first, Poe ignored him. When the droid tried to engage him with cheerful beeps or small tricks, Poe would turn away. But BB-8 wasn’t discouraged. The little droid had been programmed with patience and persistence, and he used both.

One evening, BB-8 followed Poe into the jungle as the boy wandered aimlessly, his head bowed. The droid rolled beside him silently, only chirping softly when Poe stumbled on a root. 

Poe paused his walk. “Why are you following me?” He demanded, spinning around to glare at the droid trailing behind him.

BB-8 let out a sequence of beeps that translated roughly to, Because you need me.

Poe’s scowl deepened. “I don’t. Go back to the garage or something. Leave me alone!”

BB-8 let out a sarcastic whistle, a sound that practically oozed droid sass, before speeding up and deliberately rolling into Poe’s shin with a firm thud. He then spun in a tiny circle around him, this kid clearly needed some tough love to get the message. BB-8’s stance made it clear: You’re stuck with me, kid.

Poe stumbled back, staring at the droid with wide eyes.  “Ow! What the—are you serious? You’re lucky my dad insists on keeping you around. If it were up to me, I’d leave you out here to rust!”

BB-8 responded with a smug, elongated chirp, leaning back slightly on his spherical body.

Go ahead. You’d miss me within an hour.

Poe groaned, running his hands over his face in frustration. “You’re the most annoying droid I’ve ever met. And I’ve met Chopper.”

BB-8 let out a dramatic warble of protest, offended by the comparison. His head swiveled: Take that back.

“I’m not taking it back! You’re annoying,” Poe shot back, his voice rising in exasperation.

BB-8 emitted a sequence of defiant beeps, the droid equivalent of, Fine. Say whatever you want, I’m staying. Without missing a beat, he continued rolling alongside Poe, as persistent as ever.

Poe groaned again, throwing his hands in the air as he resumed walking. “Unbelievable. You’re impossible.”

BB-8 chirped brightly, almost cheerfully, Glad you noticed.

BB-8’s beeps followed Poe as he wandered deeper into the forest, the droid a persistent presence just behind him. Poe sighed, half-exasperated, half-amused at how the little droid refused to leave him alone. 

As they pushed through the dense underbrush, Poe’s eyes caught a flash of metal glinting through the green. A moment later, they came to a clearing where the remnants of an old X-wing cockpit lay half-buried in the dirt, vines creeping over its edges like a tangled web. 

“Stars, this is amazing!” he whispered, a grin spreading across his face as he clambered inside. The seat was weathered, moss-covered, and the controls were worn, but to Poe, it was perfect. His small hands traced the familiar layout of the console, fingers brushing over switches and dials as if they might come alive at his touch. He sat down, imagining what it would feel like to fly—like his mom did in her own ship, racing among the stars, the hum of the engines beneath him. For a moment he felt at peace, in that cockpit, and something urged him to start talking, mostly to himself, but still aware of the fact that the droid could hear him. 

“My mom taught me how to fly,” he said almost absentmindedly. His voice wavered, the words carried a weight too heavy for his little heart. “She used to say the sky, space was freedom.” 

Poe’s lips curved into a faint smile as he brushed his fingers across the throttle. “She was amazing, you know? She’d let me sit in her lap while she flew. I could feel every little turn, every little bump. It was like the ship was alive. Like it was... part of her.”

BB-8 tilted his head and let out a soft beep, as if urging Poe to continue when he saw him struggling to speak again. Poe took a deep breath deciding that maybe he could trust the little round droid with his mom’s precious memories.

“She’d tell me stories about her missions—like this one time she out-flew three TIEs through an asteroid field. Dad always said she was crazy for trying it, but I thought she was the coolest.” Poe chuckled lightly. “She wasn’t scared of anything.”

The smile slipped from his face as his gaze drifted to the canopy of the cockpit, now cracked and clouded with age. “When she died...” His voice faltered. He swallowed hard, his fingers tightening on the edge of the seat. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye. One day she was here, and then... she wasn’t.”

His mind drifted to the memory of her funeral, a simple ceremony held around a fire on the jungle floor of Yavin IV. The night was warm, the fire crackling softly as the gathered pilots of Green Squadron shared stories of Shara Bey. It wasn’t the first time Poe had heard about her final mission, but hearing it from Captain L’ulo brought a sharp pain to his heart. 

L’ulo had spoken hesitantly at first, his voice weighed down by the memory. He recounted the chaos of the mission, the near impossibility of holding their ground against the Empire’s relentless assault. “She wouldn’t leave until she’d done what she came for,” L’ulo had said, his hands tightening on the flight gloves he held. “She said the navigational data in the droids couldn’t fall into Imperial hands. We all tried to get her back to the ship, but then…” He trailed off, his gaze distant, fixed on the flames.

“We begged her to let us stay, to fight for her, but Shara... She was Shara. She wouldn’t let us risk ourselves for her. Told us to go. Ordered us to go.” The words came slower after that, his voice trembling. “And then... she told me something else. She said to tell Kes that she loved him. That he should kiss Poe for her the next time he saw him.”

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the crackling of the fire. L’ulo shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. “I have delivered a lot of messages, but I think this is the hardest I’ve ever done… I’m–sorry, I’m so sorry…”

Kes had turned away from the fire, his shoulders shaking as he fought to hold himself together. Poe had felt frozen in place, the weight of his mother’s final message settled over him like a weight, heavy and suffocating, pulling at the edges of his heart. Even as L’ulo had finished speaking, and the others had started to share their own stories of Shara– with tales of laughter that could cheer up the mood, all Poe could think was how much he wished he could have been there, to hug her one last time, to tell her that he loved her too.

“Poe, come here.” Kes called for his son, his voice breaking. Poe came close to his father, shoulders slouching and his head tilted down.

Kes’s hands trembled as he reached into the pocket of his flight jacket, pulling out a small, silver ring that gleamed shinner than the stars that night. He cupped it in his palm, holding it out to Poe to take.

“This ring,” Kes said, “this was your mother’s. She wore it when she married me, and she always kept it on when she flew. She said it reminded her of what she was fighting for—us, the family she loved more than anything.” He paused, swallowing the lump in his throat, eyes searching Poe’s face. “It’s yours now. To remember her by.”

Poe’s eyes widened as he took the ring, turning it over in his fingers, tracing the cool metal soft surface of it. Tears welled up, blurring the firelight before him as he slipped the ring around his neck, letting it rest against his chest where it felt right—close to his heart.

“Thank you, Dad,” he whispered, three words, it was the most Poe had spoken ever since the news of Shara’s passing had come to their ears. Kes’s eyes also glistened with tears as he pulled Poe into a tight embrace that felt like it lasted forever. After a moment, he pulled back just enough to press a kiss to Poe’s forehead, then stood, watching as his son remained at the fire, fingers clutching the ring against his chest.

The jungle seemed to hold its breath, the sounds of creatures and insects fading into the background. Poe’s face crumpled as tears welled up in his eyes. He buried his face in his arms, his shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. "I feel like... like there’s this big hole in me, and nothing fills it. I try to remember her face, her voice, but... it’s getting harder.” His words grew quieter, as if speaking them out loud might make the memories fade faster, anxiety making it harder for him to breathe. “I don’t want to forget her.”

BB-8 chirped softly, rolling closer until he was right beside the cockpit. He extended his small manipulator arm and poked gently at Poe’s arm. When Poe didn’t respond, BB-8 let out a deliberate sequence of exaggerated beeps.

Poe sniffled, lifting his head just enough to shoot BB-8 a questioning glance. “What now?”

BB-8 repeated the beeps, slower this time, and Poe blinked. “Wait... what? Did you just say... ‘Why did the droid cross the road?’”

BB-8 let out a series of triumphant whistles, delivering the punchline: Because it rolled with it!

A laugh burst out of Poe, sudden but cutting back his tears. “That’s so bad, BB-8. Like, terrible.”

BB-8 trilled proudly, And yet you’re laughing. He spun in place and bumped his dome against Poe’s arm playfully, making the boy laugh harder.

Poe wiped at his face with his sleeve, “You’re impossible” His tears mingled with a reluctant grin. “But... thanks.”

BB-8 gave a gentle chirp, a comforting sound that filled the silence like a warm hug. Poe reached out to rub the droid’s head, his heart a little lighter despite the ache that still lingered.

“You’d like her, you know,” Poe said quietly. “And Mom. She’d love you.”

From that moment, something shifted. Poe still didn’t talk much, but he stopped pushing BB-8 away. Slowly as their conversations grew more natural, filled with sarcasm and teasing, but also an unspoken warmth. Poe found himself trusting BB-8 in a way he hadn’t trusted anyone since losing his mother. 

Weeks turned into months, and BB-8 became more than a companion—he became Poe’s anchor. The droid’s gentle persistence pulled him out of his shell, coaxing him to engage with the world again. 

When Poe felt lost, BB-8 would roll ahead, guiding him through the jungle paths as if to remind him to keep moving. When Poe was restless, the droid would engage him in small tasks—repairing gadgets, organizing tools, or tinkering with scrap—quietly keeping his hands and mind busy.

On difficult nights, BB-8 would activate his tiny light projector, filling the room with soft, shifting patterns of starlight to create a sense of calm. When Poe woke from nightmares, gasping for air, BB-8 would roll to his bedside, nudge him gently, and Poe, still trembling, would place a hand on BB-8’s dome. And when sleep reclaimed him, BB-8 remained there—a constant, steady presence, guarding his peace through the night.

By the time Poe turned ten, he and BB-8 were inseparable. Together, they explored the galaxy of Poe’s imagination, flying pretend missions in the abandoned ship, building little trinkets at home or mapping out constellations on the jungle floor. BB-8’s programming evolved to meet Poe’s needs, adapting to the boy’s growing confidence and rekindled spark.

Kes often found them in the garage, a small, cluttered space attached to their home. It was a place Shara had once used to tinker with her A-wing’s auxiliary systems, and now it had become Poe’s workshop. The smell of lubricant and metal filled the air as Poe crouched beside BB-8, giving the droid an oil bath.

“Hold still,” Poe said, his voice animated. He held a rag as he worked a polishing cloth over BB-8’s rounded body. “You know, if we ever get into real trouble on a mission, you’re gonna need to be faster. We could mod your servos—make you the quickest droid in the Galaxy!”

BB-8 gave a hesitant chirp, tilting his head.

“Oh, come on, it’s not dangerous,” Poe insisted with a grin, not pausing in his work. “I mean, probably not. I’d test it first, of course.” He leaned back, squinting at a particularly stubborn smudge before rubbing it away.

“And speaking of missions, wait until you hear this new plan I have,” he continued, his excitement bubbling over. “Remember that old ship that’s buried? What if we start bringing the parts here? We could totally try to do some of the repairs ourselves. Grandpa can probably help us get replacements—or better yet, we could just borrow Dad’s ship now that he’s back. Do a quick trip to a scrap yard, grab a new computer, hyperdrive, everything we could need. I’ll make a list! We could sneak out at night—nobody would even notice. It’s totally safe, foolproof, and we get to build our own ship. What do you think?”

BB-8 trilled a skeptical response, his dome tilting dramatically ready to deliver a lecture You’re ridiculous. You’re ten. You cannot fly a ship by yourself. We are not going to a scrapyard. I’m not playing nanny. It’s not foolproof. It’s not doable. It’s hothead thinking.

Poe laughed, scrubbing at a streak of grease on BB-8’s dome. “What, you don’t think I could pull it off? I bet Mom would’ve let me try. She always said we’d build a ship together for me to fly—and that she’d let me do the testing, too.”

His voice softened, and his hands slowed, the cloth resting against BB-8’s dome. “And with all the stuff she taught me when she let me take laps? I think I’m ready to fly on my own, BB. Really.”

The playful banter faded, leaving behind a quiet stillness. Poe’s words lingered in the air, and with them came memories—flashes of Shara Bey’s face, radiant as she smiled down at him in the cockpit of her A-wing. He could almost hear her voice, warm and steady, guiding him as his small hands gripped the controls for the first time. “Feel the ship, Poe. Let it become part of you. Trust yourself.”

The ache inside of Poe returned, sharp and raw. No matter how many days passed, no matter how many distractions he found, that hollow place in his chest never fully healed. His heart? It would always belong to her, bound by every moment she’d spent teaching him, loving him, being everything to him.

Poe’s breath hitched as his hand slipped from BB-8’s dome to the small ring hanging from a metal cord around his neck. His fingers closed tightly around it, the cool metal grounding him. He stared at it, his vision blurred by unshed tears.

It had been hers—her wedding band, worn through countless battles, always a part of her even when she was far away. Now it was all he had left, a fragile connection to the warmth and love that once felt unbreakable.

His chest constricted, and a wave of dizziness swept over him. The memories came rushing back—her laughter, her steady voice, the comforting touch of her hand as it guided him. They swirled in his mind, overwhelming him, dragging him into the ache of her absence, his hands started shaking, the weight of feeling alone in a galaxy that suddenly felt too big, too quiet, threatening to drag him down.

BB-8 let out a soft, worried chirp, rolling closer to nudge him gently, a reminder that he wasn’t entirely alone. The sound broke through the haze, Poe blinked rapidly, swallowing the lump in his throat. BB-8 chirped again, this time a quick, deliberate sequence, trying to lift up the mood.

Poe froze, blinking. “Wait... what? Did you just say—‘What do you call a Wookiee with bad manners?’”

BB-8 let out a series of exaggerated beeps and whirs that were unmistakably the punchline: A Chew-bad-a.

Poe stared at him for a moment, then let out a bark of laughter that echoed through the room, shaking his head as the pain in his chest eased—just a little. “You’re ridiculous,” he said with a grin, rubbing at BB-8’s dome again. “But thanks, buddy. I needed that.”

BB-8 gave a proud whistle, spinning his dome. Poe wiped at his eyes, his laughter filling the garage.

“You’re impossible,” Poe said, shaking his head but smiling brightly. “Seriously, buddy, if you had ears, they’d fall off with all the junk I tell you. But you win in the dumb department, because you come up with things like that.”

Kes appeared in the doorway just in time to catch the tail end of the laughter. Arms crossed, he leaned against the frame, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watched them. The boy who had once been so silent, his grief a heavy shadow, now talked nonstop to a droid who somehow understood exactly what he needed.

“You two throwing a party in here, and I didn’t get an invite?”

Poe turned, grinning as he wiped a smear of grease from his cheek. “Nah, no party, Dad. Just me and BB-8, talking about missions, but yeah, we’re just hanging out.”

BB-8 let out a small chirp, swiveling his head. He was trying to ask me to go to—

Poe cut him off before he announced his not so innocent plan “Shut it! You metal Batuuan clementine”

BB-8 emitted a sharp, offended beep at being compared to an orange fruit. He quickly extended his manipulator arm and poked Poe in the side.

“Stop! Stop!” Poe burst into laughter, trying to fend off the pokes as BB-8 persisted. But in his attempt to evade them, Poe accidentally knocked over a can of oil, spilling it onto the floor. “See what you did? Stop, BB!” he chuckled, wiping his hands on his grease-streaked pants.

Kes chuckled as he stepped forward. “I remember when you two didn't get along, now he’s got you wrapped around his circuits, kid.” He ruffled Poe’s hair, earning a half hearted groan of protest.

“Yeah, yeah, he is the best or whatever” Poe muttered with a grin as he headed towards the workbench and grabbed a rag to clean up the spill, leaving Kes alone with BB-8.

Kes knelt beside BB-8, placing a hand gently on the droid’s polished dome. “Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. “For taking care of him. For bringing him back to us.”

BB-8 chirped softly in response, tilting his dome slightly. It’s my job. And for Poe? I’ll do it anytime.

Kes smiled, patting the droid gently. “Well, you’re part of the family now. Don’t let him boss you around too much, though.”

BB-8 emitted a smug, drawn out beep, I’d like to see him try.

Kes laughed quietly, glancing toward his son, who was now diligently scrubbing the floor with a rag while muttering under his breath. For the first time in a long while, Kes felt a small, genuine warmth in his chest. They weren’t whole—but maybe, just maybe, they were starting to heal.

Years later, as Poe stood on the bridge of a Resistance cruiser with BB-8 by his side, they were moments away from taking off. They had just abandoned the Yavin 4 base after a First Order bombing, and Poe could see the planet shrinking in the distance, unsure if he would ever return home.

He thought back to all his time there—his home, his childhood, his family. Through  all the stress and chaos that surrounded him, every battle, every loss, one constant remained: BB-8.  had been there—a steadfast friend that reminded him of the resilience inside him, the one that his mother had instilled in him.

BB-8 rolled forward and bumped Poe’s shin, urging him toward the main platform where his X-wing awaited, ready to launch and join his squadron’s defense.

“Ow—do you always have to do that?” Poe groaned, rubbing his shin. BB-8 chirped urgently, insistent. “Rude? Don’t say that, and yes! I’m coming, I’m coming!”

Poe strapped himself in and started running the preflight checks as fast as he could, trying to really focus on the task at hand. But there was still that nagging feeling of hopelessness that followed him around sometimes when things got tough. With the First Order on their heels, the pressure threatened to push him into a full-blown panic

BB-8, ever perceptive, sensed the shift in Poe’s demeanor. The droid beeped from the back of the ship, his sounds coming through the comms on Poe’s helmet. BB-8’s voice crackled through the comms, full of concern, Poe, you okay?

Poe blinked, the sudden question snapping him out of his reverie. He looked down at the controllers and switched some of them, swallowing the unease pooling in his chest. “Yeah, buddy,” he said, voice wavering just a little. “I’m fine, fine, go ahead with pre takeoff.”

Don’t you dare go back to that dark place. BB-8 insisted, not being convinced by his owner’s tone.

Poe took a deep breath, one that caught and held like it was the last one he’d have for a while. The weight in his chest lightened, if only for a moment, by the simple, unwavering presence of his droid. His shoulders rose and fell as he steadied himself, a tightness in his jaw relaxing. “No, I’m not going back there,” he said, more to himself than to BB-8.“I’m not.”

BB-8 let out a dramatic whistle, the kind that would have made Poe laugh if the moment had been different. Good. Because I’m tired of being a therapy droid, and you’re starting to test my patience.

Poe chuckled despite himself, the tension easing from his shoulders. “You’re more than a therapy droid, buddy.” He said as his x wing engines came to life, and the ship started going forward to take off. “You’re my family.”

Last Post of Poevember, I had a blast making stuff for my favourite pilot, thanks to all who supported Baby Poe stories and art, really means a lot to me!

HAPPY POEVEMBER! See you all next year!

Thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments are kindly appreciated!

@eyelessfaces @howellatme @ierofrnkk @silvernight-m @ingoldthewizard

@winniethewife @midgardian-witch @ominoose

[bobalegsanji]

I've got you

Sanji closes his eyes, leaning into the feeling of the warm hands on his face. ‘’Please…’’ he whispers, ‘’I… Please. Promise me you will if I ask.’’

Zosan. Words: 3,976. WCI spoilers!

Trigger Warnings: self-worth issues, implied/referenced self-harm, implied/referenced childhood abuse

One Piece Masterlist

Splat. Splat. Splat.

The dripping of the water got on his nerves.

It’s too loud in the empty storage room. Like a metronome that keeps track of every agonising second he’s sitting there. 

Splat. Splat.

It’s too dark to see the source. The pantry is too small for any windows. Sanji could turn on the light, but getting up from his sitting position against the door feels like an impossible task. 

He should be bothered by the darkness, or the annoying torture of a sound. He should be figuring out where the water is coming from, or at least let Franky or Usopp know, so they can fix whatever it is, but he has no energy to stand up. 

He barely has energy to breathe.

Whatever, it’s not like the ship is going to sink. Every man of the sea knows water won’t trickle into a sailing ship. Water is like a God, all powerful and demanding. A leak in the ship would make itself known, pushing everything out of their way to do the one task Poseidon has laid upon it: to take away oxygen.

Plus, if the ship would really sink right now, Sanji wouldn’t care.

-

-

No one would

-

-

Sanji shakes his head, mentally begging the intrusive thoughts to please, leave him alone. 

The hands in his hair tighten. It doesn’t ground him whatsoever.

When he was a kid, he learned physical harm won’t take away the pain.

His brothers tried to teach him first. They didn’t step down for emotional torture; reminding him he wasn’t loved, humiliating him and threatening to kill him weren’t unusual situations. Ichiji was the worst. He always knew exactly what to say and when to say it. 

Yonji and Niji preferred the physical harm. They’re the ones to teach him that physical pain will never be able to overshadow his mental burdens. No matter how much he bled and cried, or locked up and starved, the thoughts were worse. 

Sanji hates to think of them. They’re part of who he is and, though he doesn’t want to think about it, who he’ll always be. The melancholy and demons of his past are intertwined in every part of his being. 

Every time he feeds his crew, he makes sure to make his own portion a little smaller. He makes sure to wake up a little earlier and go to bed a little later than anyone else. He puts in extra effort to make his crew’s favourite food, drinks and desserts on special days, but never his own. In fights, he’d give up his life for his nakama in the split of a second. 

They’re all small reminders of remains of a past that taught him he’s less than others. 

He breathes deeply. The anxiety in his bones doesn’t settle. 

The mixed signals his body is sending him are making him dizzy. He wants to scratch his arms until he bleeds. He wants to hit his head against the wall until he blacks out. Wants to kick against the door until his legs give in. He wants to scream until his lungs double down, until his body hits the floor, and he gets a couple of seconds of peace.

But that’s now how it works. 

His body has no energy to fuel itself to do anything. Sanji wonders where the energy to keep his heart beating is coming from.

Splat .

A small smile plays on his lips.

His life is a fucking joke.

-

-

Soft footsteps walk above him.

He opens his eyes slowly.

The darkness is still present. His back hurts from being in a very uncomfortable sitting position for too long. How long has he been asleep?

A knock right above his head makes him shiver. 

“Sanji-kun?” Nami’s voice is soft and elegant. It’s beautiful, just like her.

He doesn’t want to respond, but all hell will break loose if they think they’ve lost him somewhere on the big broad sea. If Nami’s searching for him of all people, his nakama is definitely worried.

“Yes, dear?” He responds breathlessly, glad he locked the door before he fell asleep.

As expected, the handle goes down, but the door doesn’t budge. The handle hits the top of his head. Sanji closes his eyes in annoyance, but doesn’t react otherwise. It hurts only a bit, but it feels comforting.

“Are you coming for dinner? Why is the door locked?”

Sanji rolls his eyes. Is it so hard for the crew to leave him alone? He made them dinner. It’s neatly placed on the counter of his beloved kitchen. All they have to do is heat it up, and he’s pretty sure even Luffy could manage to do that. 

“Go ahead and eat, my sweet. I’ve had dinner already,” he tells her as convincingly as possible.

His stomach rumbles softly, but luckily not loud enough for her to hear. The thought of food makes his stomach twist and turn. If she keeps pestering him, he might throw up.

“Oh…” She responds. “Well, will you sit with us then? You can sit between Robin and me.”

In normal circumstances, Sanji would jump at the chance. He’d be their footstool during meals if they asked, but not today. 

The empty feeling will only get worse if he accepts. Seeing his friends, his nakama, enjoy their day and talk while he feels so disconnected and stuck in the past will only bring more torture. He learned his lesson way back in Arrabasta.

“I’m kind of busy right now,” he says softly. His eyes are clenched closed as he says it, already regretting but having to accept the situation.

The handle gets pushed again, and once more, Sanji feels the cold metal make contact with his head. This time there’s less force behind it. Nami already knows it won’t work, but it doesn’t stop her desperate attempt to try and pry open the door again.

“Sanji, come on,” she says softly. “What’s wrong? Is it because of what happened at Whole Cake? Do you want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head. Even if Nami can’t see it, he has to shake away the images of Judge. A wave of embarrassment flushes over him. He wishes they had never learned of his past.

It should’ve been easy. He had never told anyone his last name, never told them anything about his childhood or his brothers... What a twisted play of fate that she decided to reveal his darkest secrets to his new family. 

They know he’s pathetic. They’ve seen his family first hand. They haven’t seen the bruises, or the mental scars that will never leave, but they understand. 

He pushes up his sleeves without looking. His hands search his wrists on both sides, where he feels a ragged line. Whose father would put his own son in handcuffs for long enough that he’s scarred? They’re like his own personal handcuffs, keeping him tied to the dark memories of Germa. 

A singular tear rolls from his eye. He hopes his voice doesn’t show any emotion.

“I really need to finish this, Nami. Please leave me alone.” 

He hears her ragged breath, proof of her hesitation. It pains him to realise; they don’t trust him on his own.

The worst part is, he knows they’re right. He’s in no position to be left alone, but he can’t ask them for help. What would they even help him with? Luffy had promised him the revelations of Whole Cake would change nothing - so they have no reason to suddenly meddle with his self-depreciation issues. 

The sound of her footsteps slowly fading away bleeds through the door. Sanji asked for this, basically begging the orange-haired woman to leave him alone, but he can’t help the nails he unconsciously digs into his wrists. 

She doesn’t care about you

Mindlessly, he stares at the stock of cheap alcohol in front of him. Technically, it’s Zoro’s, but everyone knows the pantry is Sanji’s territory, so that gives him at least some authority over the superfluous amount of sake, right?

He downs a bottle before he can really think about it. It’s messy, Sanji has never been very good at downing something quickly. Droplets fall down the side of his mouth, on his shirt, his trousers.

He wipes his face clean with his hand before grabbing a second. The wetness feels sticky, and the taste is disgusting, but that doesn’t matter.

The burn in his throat feels nice. It grounds him more than the pain of his cuffs in Whole Cake ever had.

-

-

The swaying of the ship feels weird. His centre of balance has shifted from alcohol from pretty good to non-existent. His back’s now against the cupboard with liquor. His eyes keep falling closed involuntarily, but it doesn’t matter. Not like the door is very interesting to look at, anyway. 

Sanji could hear Zoro walking through the corridors from a mile away. It’s good they don’t fish during the night, when Zoro is usually awake, or he’d scare every living creature in a thirty-mile radius to death.

He giggles softly at his own joke.

‘’Cook? Everyone went to bed, come out before I open the door myself,’’ Zoro’s voice doesn’t waver, leaving absolutely no space for arguments. 

‘’Try me, brute,’’ Sanji laughs, taking another swig of - what was it again?

‘’Are you drinking my fucking sake?’’ Zoro sounds angry.

That was it! Sake.

Sanji plops the empty bottle down on the ground. It makes a hollow sound in the otherwise abandoned part of the ship.

‘’I swear to God, I will cut down this fucking door if you don’t open it right now, Cook,’’ Zoro grits through his teeth.

Sanji doesn’t respond. He closes his eyes to try and focus more on the sounds and vibrations of the ship. How is there so little sound? He can hear the waves crash against the side of the ship in a rhythm. His stomach churns a bit at the constant movement, but it’s something you get accustomed to after a life at sea.

The sound of Wado being taken out of its saya triggers Sanji’s fight or flight response. All his muscles tense as his eyes immediately open, he automatically looks around the room in search of any danger. He’s conditioned to link the sound to a fight.

‘’Wait!’’ He stammered. ‘’Don’t - I’ll, I’ll open it.’’ 

It takes some stumbling before he’s up and twists the lock open. 

Zoro pushes the door open as soon as he hears the click. Not taking Sanji’s current state into account - who needed a couple more seconds to grasp the change of situation - the door gets slammed against Sanji’s shoulder, who immediately loses his balance.

The pathetic sight in front of him makes Zoro sigh. Sanji fell down and is currently pouting up at the swordsman with a mean glare, next to several bottles of empty liquor. He quickly counts them.

‘’Seven? You drank seven bottles of MY sake?’’ Zoro screams angrily, pointing somewhere in the direction of the bottles or Sanji - the pantry isn’t that big.

‘’Try to outdrink me, Mosshead,’’ Sanji says simply, picking up another bottle.

Zoro quickly takes it out of his hand, earning another angry glare from the blond. ‘’You’re an idiot, you know that? I’ve outdrank you more times than I can count, and you’re not supposed to last after five.’’

‘’Oh, haven’t you heard?’’ Sanji laughs, amused. ‘’I’m a superhuman now! I can do whatever the fuck I want, also, fuck you.’’

Zoro closes his eyes in annoyance. He hadn’t heard the full story of Whole Cake yet. No one really seemed eager to talk about it, and Zoro’s never been one to gossip, not taking into account it’s only been days since they’d left Wano. 

‘’Does this have to do with that stupid question you asked me in Wano?’’ he asks. 

‘’Which one?’’ Sanji asks curiously.

‘’You know-’’ Zoro says awkwardly. They haven’t really talked about it, not really. ‘’About the… The promise.’’

‘’Oh!’’ Sanji suddenly seems to remember. He tries to stand up, but the sea hasn’t been very kind this night- a particularly strong wave makes him crash down onto the floor again. 

Zoro gives him a hand to help him up.

‘’About killing me?’’ Sanji asks, tightly holding Zoro’s hand. 

They stand still for a couple of seconds, awkwardly staring at each other, until Zoro tugs his hand back. ‘’Yes, that one.’’

Sanji smiles as he steadies himself against the wall with one hand. ‘’Yes and no. Everything has to do with each other, can’t you see?’’ He laughs as he says it, but it’s the most emotionless thing Zoro’s ever heard him say.

Zoro stares at Sanji for a second before realising this isn’t going to help. He promised the crew to get the cook to bed as soon as his watch started - he would’ve picked the blond up three hours ago at dinner time if Nami hadn’t stood on giving Sanji some alone time. 

Look what that brought them. Now, drunk Sanji is his problem. He’s going to curse that witch one day.

‘’Come, we’re going outside. It surprises me you haven’t tried to smoke and light the ship on fire in there,’’ Zoro sighs, grabbing Sanji’s hand and dragging him with him to the deck. 

The idea of finally smoking makes Sanji sound a relieved moan. Zoro feels a blush creep up all the way to his ears. 

‘’Quiet down,’’ he says, annoyed, ‘’if you wake someone up with your whining I’m going to be blamed.’’

The door to the deck gets opened, and Sanji basks in the feel of the cold night air.

‘’So? Don’t want them to think we’re having a little tumble between the sheets, Mossy?’’

Zoro curses loudly. He has half a mind to throw Sanji overboard and act like he has nothing to do with it, but in this state he’s never going to figure out a way to get on dry land again. 

Instead, he opts to take a deep breath. ‘’What is your fucking problem today? First you make everyone worry, then you drink and make it my problem, and now you’re coming onto me?’’

‘’I’m not coming onto you,’’ Sanji says absentmindedly, trying to talk and fish a cigarette out of his chest pocket is harder than it looks when you’re swaying from left to right with no centre of gravity, ‘’but I’m too drunk to do anything against it, so this is your chance.’’

Zoro knows the noble thing would be to let the blond have a cigarette, give him a glass of water and toss him into bed, but he can’t. He’s too curious. The cook is always so closed off, prissy and uncomfortable about any personal conversation - this is his chance to get some information out of Sanji. 

He’s a man of honour, but this is a unique situation. One where he can make a little exception to learn about the annoying, irritable guy he hasn’t been able to get out of his head for months.

Sanji’s standing against the railing. His legs tremble, it only takes a slight push from Zoro to get him on the ground. 

‘’Sit down,’’ he says, already getting seated next to the man. ‘’You’re not - You’re not into men, right?’’

Sanji lets out a lighthearted laughter, but once again, the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. ‘’Only into the pretty ones.’’

Zoro raises his eyes, but Sanji doesn’t react. Zoro’s not even sure if Sanji realises all the shit he’s sprouting right now. ‘’The pretty ones?’’

‘’Mhmm,’’ Sanji mumbles, taking a big drag out of his cigarette. ‘’Like Ace.’’

Zoro’s jaw drops at this information. ‘’You had a thing for Ace?’’

‘’No, my love,’’ Sanji smiles. The nickname hits Zoro right where it hurts. ‘’We had a thing.’’ 

Zoro can feel the sadness radiate off of the man like a heater.

‘’Truthfully, I’m… I’m happy I wasn’t at Marineford. I don’t think… I would’ve been able to comfort Luffy.’’ He sighs deeply, staring out onto the deck. His voice grows even more soft and fragile, ‘’I wish I was there for Luffy, but… I think I would’ve broke, too, right on that battlefield.’’

Zoro is not sure how to react. He didn’t expect Sanji to have a thing for Luffy’s brother, let alone for said brother to reciprocate those feelings. Were they feelings? A relationship? Or just casual sex? 

The question seems rude to ask now that Sanji sounds so sad.

He’s nervous about being turned down, but also desperately wants to comfort the cook in some way. He’s no stranger to grief, and knows the painful feeling that worms its way into your heart like a parasite, only to never let go. 

Zoro quietly grabs Sanji’s hand, the one not holding a cigarette, and hopes fiercely he doesn’t get turned down.

Sanji doesn’t. Instead, the blond quietly weaves their fingers together.

‘’What about you?’’ He asks.

‘’Hm?’’ Zoro asks. ‘’What about me?’’

Sanji turns his head to look him in the eye. He looks handsome. The moonlight paints his hair a softer colour than it actually is, and makes his one visible eye light up like… like the all blue Sanji always goes on about.

If only he knew he’s carrying his own dream in the iris of his eye.

Sanji's smile is a mix between misschievous and sad. The perfect explanation for this weird night - kind of sad, but it also gives a thrill to see Sanji like this, so honest and unfiltered. 

‘’Are you into pretty men?’’

Zoro nods worthlessly. How could he explain that the most beautiful man he could ever imagine is sitting right in front of him? 

Sanji laughs softly. ‘’Thought so.’’

‘’What does that mean?’’ Zoro asks, slightly annoyed. What a way to mess up their conversation.

‘’It’s nothing bad. You just never seem to appreciate the beauty of a lady.’’

Zoro hums softly. ‘’I’ve never really liked women.’’

‘’Not one?’’ Sanji sounds surprised. ‘’Not even Hiyori?’’

Zoro shakes his head. ‘’She was sweet, but I can’t let anyone distract me from my goal.’’

‘’Not even a beautiful man?’’

Zoro smiles softly. ‘’Only if that man has the same goal as me.’’ The moment the words leave his lips, an anxious feeling creeps up on him. Is this too much information? Will Sanji figure out this little, one-sided crush he has? 

He cringes, but Sanji just tightens the grip on his hand. ‘’I understand that.’’ 

The swordsman’s clenched muscles relax, and he sighs relieved. Sanji’s drunk, and how could he forget, kind. 

‘’Can I -’’ he starts, scared to bring up the conversation, but it has to happen. Sanji doesn’t seem that drunk anymore, and the possibility of ever bringing up this topic without getting a kick in the face again seems small. He has to know ‘’Can I ask about Wano?’’

‘’The question?’’ Sanji asks.

Zoro hums softly.

It’s quiet between the two. The waves rhythmically crash against the boat. Sanji’s lighter clicks once to light another cigarette. 

Zoro sighs deeply, maybe it was wrong to bring it up, but Sanji hasn’t let go of his hand yet.

‘’I wanted to be sure I’d be dealt with properly… if something happened to me,’’ Sanji sighs. ‘’I didn’t want to hurt our crew.’’

‘’You would never hurt our crew. Why would you think that?’’ Zoro is starting to realise that maybe he did miss a big part of Whole Cake. 

Sanji’s eyes linger on their hands. Zoro doesn’t comment on it.

The quietness resumes until Sanji finishes his cigarette. He turns the hand they’re holding around, so his palms are up in the air. With the other hand, he slowly moves up his sleeve.

The scars around his wrist look deep. They’re not fully settled yet- but it hurts to imagine what it used to look like. Zoro moves their hands around to get a better look, confirming for himself that the scar is a circle around his complete wrist- but it’s not linear, it’s ragged.

‘’Who did this to you?’’ Zoro is very aware of the protective tone in his voice, but he can’t help it. Whoever dared to touch their cook needs to be dealt with.

Sanji grips Zoro���s hand a little tighter before responding, ‘’my father.’’

Zoro looks up, the fresh tears in the blond’s eye make him nauseous. ‘’What?’’

The small, pathetic smile on Sanji’s lips feels like a kick to the chest.

‘’He’s… not a great man. He cuffed me on Whole Cake. If I went against him, they’d blow up. Remember the collars of the slaves of the world nobles in Sabaody?’’

Zoro nods softly.

‘’It was like that.’’ Sanji’s eyes fall down to his wrists. ‘’He did more to me… To my body... I wanted to be sure that if he did something irreversible, you’d keep the crew safe… From me.’’ The last word is accompanied by a sob.

Zoro immediately lets go of his hand to throw his arms around the cook’s shoulders.

Soft sobs make Sanji’s shoulders shake, but it’s quiet. He barely makes a sound as he breaks in Zoro’s arms.

‘’Don’t cry now, Curls,’’ Zoro whispers in his ears. His hand plays with the blond locks around his neck. ‘’I’ve got you. We’ll make him pay, okay? I promise.’’

Sanji shakes his head, but makes no move to leave the embrace. ‘’I can’t.’’

Zoro tries to pull back to look Sanji in the eyes, but the hold on his body is too strong, so he just lets him. 

‘’Why not?’’

‘’He’s my father,’’ Sanji whispers against Zoro’s neck. ‘’I can’t…’’ He takes a couple of deep breaths to steady his voice. Once he’s ready, he doesn’t move away as Zoro expected, he moves closer , nuzzling his nose in Zoro’s neck. ‘’My mother loved him, in some kind of way. I can’t hurt him. For her.’’

Zoro mindlessly plays with Sanji’s hair. ‘’I can do it quickly?’’

Sanji breaks the embrace, slowly pushing the man away from him. ‘’No, you brute,’’ he says with no insulting undertone. 

Zoro knows he might cross a boundary with his next move, but he can’t help it. 

He cups Sanji’s face with his hands, wiping away the tears that have fallen. He’s not used to the kindness in Sanji’s heart, even to people who don’t deserve it, but what Sanji wants, Sanji gets. ‘’Okay. But we’ve got you, yeah? No one is killing anybody, then.’’

Sanji closes his eyes, leaning into the feeling of the warm hands on his face. ‘’Please…’’ he whispers, ‘’I… Please. Promise me you will if I ask.’’

‘’Your father? I will kill him in a heartbeat if you as much as point in his direction.’’

Sanji shakes his head, not opening his eyes and heavily leaning on Zoro’s hands. 

‘’No. I need you to kill me if I ask.’’

‘’Sanji…’’

‘’Just promise me,’’ Sanji opens his eyes, fresh tears are ready to fall and his bottom lip quivers, but he bravely talks without letting his voice quiver, ‘’I need to know you’ve got my back.’’

Zoro plays with Sanji’s hair, moving it out of the way and softly stroking the side that’s not always in front of his face. He knows the cook long enough to know which part of his face he wants to keep covered, even if he has never understood why. He’s so beautiful.

‘’I always got your back,’’ Zoro whispers softly. ‘’But I won’t mindlessly kill you. You’re too important to the crew. And to me.’’

Sanji closes his eyes, leaning into the touch of Zoro’s hand. He sighs so deeply, it almost worries Zoro. 

‘’I’m not that impo-’’ he stops himself before finishing. ‘’Will you kill me if I go insane, then?’’

‘’Curly, I know you better than anyone. I’ll catch you before you go insane.’’

[blueberri-blu]

Hi hi! I've been thinking about your prompt list so I thought screw it I'll put in my first ever ask lol, I thought #3 would fit bayverse Raph so well as a (light) angst to fluff confession?

I've never done this before so if I messed something up please disregard and have a great day/night ( ´∀`)

Of course!! I'd love to!

Horns 𓆩♡𓆪

[Bayverse] Raph x gn!reader

Prompt #3: "Why aren't you dating them?" "I'd probably destroy them" "They'd be into that"

𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪

Raph's brothers were annoyed as fuck to be honest

You and their red clad brother have so much romantic tension it's unbearable

So, originally Mikey and Donnie got together to form a plan, they were going to try to leave you two in the lair, by yourselves, in hopes that you and Raph would work yourselves out.

However, Leo being... Leo, he stood nearby, listening, and occasionally giving ideas

But, they knew better, they knew they couldn't tell raph about their plan until the very last minute.

So... They went on

Secretly sneaking out to get things like fairy lights, your favorite movies on CDs, etc.

They noticed that Raph stocked up on your favorite foods and snacks in the lair already, so they saw this as an opportunity for Raph to show off how much he cares.

It was perfect. Their plan was immaculate, with Donnie confirming it had about an 85% success rate, with Mikey piping up that if it was more than 50, that's all the reassurance they needed

Their plan was starting to fall into place.

First, Mikey set up fairy lights in the living area, with the excuse of making it more homey.

Then, Donnie started fixing up their tv, giving it upgrades and such for better resolution and sound.

Then, Leo was in charge of making sure everyone would be out of the lair, so you and Raph wouldn't have any interruptions

Hell, even Master Splinter stepped in by making sure to get on Raph's case about making sure his room was clean.

Everything was ready.

Now... For the hardest part...

Getting Raph on board.

They decided that the best one to tell him was Mikey, seeing as he was closest to Raph.

And needless to say, Raph was... Upset

"The fuck do You mean "my chance" Mikey!?"

"well... You know, you two are already practically dating right? I mean, y'all almost kissed last movie night!" Mikey was... A bit nervous

"how 'bout, all of you stay the fuck out of my business!!"

"Oh c'mon big bro! We already texted y/n to come over and everything! You wouldn't wanna let 'em down riiiiight?"

Raph hated how all of his brothers adorned a smug grin, had an itch to punch it off their faces

It's not that raph didn't like you, he really did

But you were just so kind! Yet strong! And passionate,

You knew how to be calm, you could be kind to everyone,

He tried to convince himself that this was why he wouldn't ask you out, but in reality, he knew you liked him

You'd laugh at all of his jokes, grabbing his arm

You'd cuddle up to him on movie nights while looking at his lips, then his eyes

He almost lost himself last movie night, almost let you two kiss

But he pulled away last minute, and he could see your eyes fall from the rejection

"arggghh Mikey! Why d'y'all have to be so fuckin' nosy!"

"Raph! Why are you so upset! You like them, and they obviously like you!! What's got your panties in a twist bro!"

"Why aren't you dating them?"

"because..."

"I'd probably destroy them!"

"I'd probably be into that"

Raph froze, it was as if a glacier had fallen on his head

He couldn't believe it

How long had you been there? How much did you here? Why did you respond like that?

Mikey practically squealed, Donnie pumped his fist in the air in victory, and Leo still adorned that same smug grin

Raph turned around, finally facing you

You were blushing like crazy, yet you were looking up at him as if he was the best person in the world

His brothers decided to retreat, leaving you two alone in the lair under the fairly lights

Raph felt as if he had died and come back to life, only to get a heart attack, he was... Afraid, of what? He didn't know, but his heart was pounding in a way that you could hear it from outside of his plastron

"look... Raph... I don't want to force you or pressure you or anything of the sort, but... If you like me, I'd like to know why you don't want to date me? Please?"

"I ... I jus don't wanna hurt ya..."

"oh, Big Guy, it's ok... I really don't think you are capable of doing so... But arguments are normal in a relationship, it's just about working them out, together"

By now, Raph had one arm slinked around your waist

Raph whispered "I'd like that... y/n, I love you"

"aw, I love you too big guy" you whispered back

And you two closed the distance, starting off with soft pecks, which slowly turned into longer kisses

The night ended with you in his arms after watching your favorite movie, snacks littered the floor, and Raph taking in your features under the soft glow of the yellow lights.

𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪

I really love this idea, I hadn't even thought of that! I was definitely debating between Raph and rottmnt Leo!

I hope you liked it! Please feel free to request again! Thank you so much for the ask, anon ^^

I live y'all <3

[echoingbirdsofprey]

Delicate (Jake's Version)

14 - Rooster's Promise

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OFC Samantha Kazansky

Rating: Explicit (MDNI!) THIS CHAPTER IS RATED R VERY MUCH.

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of dark and mature themes including capture, physical, psychological and pharmacological torture. Reader discretion is advised. Do Not read if you feel it may be detrimental to your mental health. As always, this is proofread to my best abilities but occasionally I miss things.

A/N: None, its just character building. This will change a lot between Jake and Sam, Roos and Sam, and Roos and Jake.

Tags: @mrsevans90 @djs8891

Playlist

Jake came to at some point and realized he was freezing. He stayed still, but used his eyes to glance around and assess his surroundings. Seeing white snow and pine trees all around him, he decided to try to get up. It only took raising his head a few inches before realizing something was broken, what exactly he wasn’t sure yet.

Move neck right and left. Check.

Move fingers of left hand, then turn left wrist. Check.

Bend left elbow. Check. Lift left arm. Check. 

Move fingers of right hand, then turn right wrist. Twinge.

Bend right elbow. Stiff. Some pain.

Lift right arm. Negative. Excruciating pain.

Broken humerus or collarbone. Unsure.

He held his arm tight across his front, trying his best to stabilize it. He had no grip strength. He sat up, his back tight and extremely sore. Probably bruised from impact. He couldn’t remember if he’d even gotten to pull the eject handle or if he had been thrown from his jet. He glanced around for it and seeing no parachute and the jet not far from him and on fire, he had his answer. He moved his legs one by one and found that they were still functional, just sore as hell.

Assessment...Broken shoulder or collarbone and G-Rash on back. Could’ve been worse.

And just as he thought that, he saw two armed soldiers coming through the brush. 

Now it's worse.

They stepped toward him, rifles up. They radioed back to their command. They spoke in a foreign language. Jake couldn’t understand them. He put one hand up as they got closer and seeing he wasn’t armed, they immediately pulled his arms behind his back and forced him to stand. Jake howled in pain, and upon hearing the crunch from his shoulder, confirmed that it was in fact broken and probably moreso now.

“At least buy me dinner first!” Jake yelled, laughing to himself through tears. His captors forced him toward the helicopter, his hands tied with cable ties, his shoulder aching at the forced position. 

🛩🛩🛩

“Sir, we’re receiving a video feed from an unknown source.” The comms officer said.

“Patch it through.” Cyclone said. The rest of Dagger Squad had landed and they had all met in the Control room, all packed into the doorway, waiting for the Bandits to be out of the sky. Nat gasped as the feed came through and Bradley had tears in his eyes. Javy ran his hands over his face, almost as if he was trying not to look. Maverick felt nausea creeping up from the pit of his stomach as he watched Jake on the video, strung up by his hands in rusty cuffs, blood streaming from his mouth and a gash on his head. His flight suit had been pulled down and tied around his waist, exposing his white undershirt to staining from his own blood and vomit. 

“If you want your pilot back, you will give us more Uranium. The longer you take, the more we will break him.” A voice with a foreign accent said from behind the camera, which then shifted, showing Hangman being yanked up even higher by his arms, crying out in pain from the suddenness of the movement, and his shoulder seared, but it also felt numb from how long it was in that position. The camera focused on him as he spit blood at his torturer, who then punched him in the gut, and then shoved the butt of the AK-47 rifle into his side, effectively breaking, or at the least, fracturing several ribs. Then they switched the camera off. 

“Feed lost, sir.” The officer said and Cyclone slammed his hands on the desk in front of him.

“Fuck! Get it back! Get me the closest Army, Marine, and Air Force units. We need to get him back now!” He demanded and everyone went silent before springing into action. The rest of Jake’s detachment left, needing a few moments to themselves after what they’d just seen.

🛩🛩🛩

Jake’s captors took a few moments to hit him with a metal bar, against the concrete wall behind him, causing his back muscles to seize up. They were keeping water from him, and he’d dehydrated quickly, especially after vomiting. At this point, he wished for unconsciousness.

Jake’s head felt like it was splitting in two. Pain radiated sharply through his torso, and around to his spine. He felt it reverberate up into his head, making him see spots from the impact. He swallowed hard, spitting again. More blood. The taste of iron filled his mouth and made him gag, bile and blood creeping up from his stomach and lungs. The scent was even worse. There was a tang to the air, wherever he was being kept, that he knew had to be mold and his shirt was stained with vomit from the first encounter with his captors. 

He’d been choked almost to the point of passing out and then one well placed kick to his stomach caused him to empty the contents on the boot of his attacker and the front of his own shirt. There hadn’t been much except breakfast and regurgitated sausages with syrup didn’t smell good coming back up. He might never eat those again, if he ever got out of here. 

They didn’t even ask him for any top secret information, just “who sent you?” and when Jake proceeded to say “who do you think, motherfucker.” they beat him within inches of him passing out with anything they had available. Guns, fists, feets, and one of them had even grabbed a heavy chain, wrapped it around Jake’s neck and pulled until he saw stars. They were just torturing him and holding him hostage so that they could get more Uranium. That made Jake feel decently good about himself. He was worth a shitload of Uranium apparently. He couldn’t wait to get home and tell Sam.

Sam.

It sounded corny, but she really was his one true love. What would they tell her? He sacrificed himself to save Rooster? He did what any team leader should do and he took the brunt of the attack, instead of letting his men and woman, take the hit. Would they tell her he was missing in action? Would they tell her he’d been taken and was currently being tortured and held for ransom of large amounts of uranium? Whatever they told her, he hoped it was either Maverick or Phoenix who broke the news. Not Cyclone, not Warlock, and especially not Rooster. God forbid Rooster told her. Jake thought of how much it would hurt for Coyote to tell her though. He’d been so fucking excited for Jake to propose and he was always so respectful of Sam. No, Jake couldn’t bear it if Coyote had to tell her. Especially if he died here. The thought of his body being delivered in a casket to her and Tyler, was unfathomable. But it was not unrealistic, and that scared the ever living fuck out of Jake. 

The thought of getting home to Sam was the only thing keeping his resolve strong, as they continued to punish him, just for existing. He figured at some point, waterboarding was on the menu, so he was mentally preparing for that. He also knew there may be the possibility of other more heinous methods of a sexual nature. He just hoped the Navy, the Army, The Air Force, whoever, got to him before any of that could happen.

🛩️

“Wake up, boy.” A man’s voice said with an accent that Jake couldn’t quite place. The man slapped him, and Jake regained consciousness quickly. He was exhausted, being deprived of food and only getting enough water to stay alive. He also felt so much worse than he did yesterday. Or maybe it was two days ago. He wasn’t keeping track of time. Not really. Actually, he suddenly felt great. He had no pain, only a pinching sensation that quickly dissolved in his arm. The vein in his arm. He glanced over, eyes becoming glassy as a needle was removed from his arm.

“What did you inject me with?” He asked, his voice sounding strange to himself. He felt hot all over and twitchy. 

“Something for the pain.” The man said and Jake scoffed. He knew what this was. They were going to give him relief and then withhold it to fuck ith his head. Make him feel better and then let him feel just how awful his body felt. His shoulder was screaming but that was slowly becoming more dull, turning into an ache instead of overwhelming pain. 

“Oh now you’re gonna be nice to me? I see how it is. Only nice when you want something, you piece’a’shit.” Jake joked, spitting blood on the floor again. The man grabbed Jake’s face with one hand, squeezing so hard that Jake thought he might break his jaw.

“Listen, boy, if you don’t shut your fucking mouth, I’ll stuff it with something. You Americans like dick don’t you?” The man said with a smirk and he patted Jake’s cheek, almost lovingly, which made Jake shudder.

Jake took a deep breath, feeling a searing pain run through him even though he had drugs in his system now. The thought of having some nasty dude’s dick in his mouth was...unbearable. He figured it might be best to shut up for a bit. He needed to stay alive so that he could get back to Sam. He was already going to be going back as damaged goods. He didn’t need to be fucked up in the head too.

🛩🛩🛩

“Rooster...Rooster! Stop! You’re not going by yourself!” Nat yelled after Bradley as he stormed up to the flight deck. Bob was hot on her heels, as was Javy.

“I have to go get him back!” Bradley exclaimed.

“No, we need to wait for reconnaissance, and then we’ll go find him!” NAt said, trying to grab his arm. Bob got a hold of him and stopped him from going any further.

“If I don’t bring him home, Sam will NEVER forgive me. I promised her, you promised her, and so did Maverick. Jake needs to come home and preferably not in a fucking coffin!” Bradley said as he whirled around, struggling to get out of Bob’s grasp. 

“Bradley...I get it, I do, but you need to take a breath and we need to be rational right now. Jake can take care of himself until we get there.” Javy chimed in, having confidence enough in Jake to know that he wouldn’t go down without a fight,.

“Not if they fucking kill him!” Bradley screamed, tears stinging his eyes. He was shaking and he collapsed against the wall and Bob kept one hand on him, making sure he didn’t try to make a run for it.

“They’re not going to kill him. They’re gonna torture him. They know how valuable pilots are.” Nat said, also on the verge of tears thinking of how horrid Jake had looked on the video already. She feared what he might look like when they got him back.

“So he’s gonna go back to Sam fucking damaged! As strong as he is, they’ll find some way to break him and then he won’t return to her the same man he was. That’s not fair to her.” Bradley remanded, glaring up at Nat. He saw then that it was not only him who held a great sadness for not only Jake but for Sam as well. She didn’t need to lose the other man in her life that she loved the most.

“No it's not fair, but you don’t think Sam will understand? She understands the reality of this job. Her father taught her. And you don’t think she’s smart enough to know this is a possibility?” Bob explained.

“It shouldn’t have been at all!” Bradley slammed his hands on the ground beside him. Out of frustration he tore his mask from his suit and chucked it at the wall opposite him. Bob reached down and grabbed it, holding it with shaking hands. 

“Someone else needs to talk some sense into you. Come with me.” Nat pulled him to his feet and dragged him up the stairs to the tower, where Maverick, Cyclone, and Warlock were discussing the situation.

“Mav, you need to deal with Rooster. I’m out.” Nat said, shoving him through the doorway and then slamming the door behind her. She screamed in the hallway, which everyone in the tower control room heard, and then she proceeded to go back to her bunk and try to calm down, with Bob and Javy right behind her.

“What’s going on?” Maverick asked as he stepped toward Bradley. He grabbed for his shoulders and Bradley bristled.

“We need to go get him.” Bradley stated.

“Yeah, we’re working on a way to do that.” Maverick said and he felt rage bubbled up inside Bradley, and then it boiled over.

“No, now! I PROMISED SAM. I FUCKING PROMISED HER.” Bradley yelled, his face red as a pepper and tears streaming down his cheeks. Maverick took him in his arms and Cyclone and Warlock could only stand by and watch. 

“Bradley...I know...I know, we all did. We will get him back, but we don’t even know where they took him yet. Give it a couple days, and we should have intel.” Maverick said softly to him, coaxing him into an embrace. He rubbed Bradley’s back gently and it took Mav back to when the man in his arms was just a little boy and he would comfort him when he was scared. 

“Who’s going to tell her...” Bradley asked through strained sobs. 

“I am. And I’m going to go with you to get him back.” Maverick said softly, keeping Bradley held tight until he calmed down enough to be reasoned with.

Once they’d discussed a plan, they only had to wait for recon. MAverick decided now would be the best time to inform Sam of what was going on. He used the satellite phone at the tower and called her cell phone.

Sam had been sitting at home, hers not Jake’s, with Maisy. They had spent a few afternoons together and were getting to know each other better. She liked Maisy, who seemed to be quite infatuated with Javy. Sam recognized that same feeling from how Jake was. Sam kind of hoped that Maisy pursued Javy with that same fervor that Jake had done with her. It had been about a week and she’d not heard anything about when the carrier would be back. She figured maybe they’d gotten delayed, but when her cell rang and it showed a restricted number, her heart sank.

“Sam...” It was Maverick. 

“Mav?” She asked, her heart pounding. This couldn’t be good.

“Sam...I’m just gonna tell it to ya straight. Jake took a hit to save Rooster and his jet got shot down. The enemy captured him and is holding him. They’re torturing him. We are trying to get him back. I’ll call you again as soon as we have him. I can’t tell you anymore than that and all I can say is that I’m so fucking sorry about this...he was being brave and doing his job as the team leader. I never would’ve expected that from him, so just know that whatever happens next, you made him better. I firmly believe that. And I’m confident in saying that he won’t go down with a goddamn fight because I know he wants to get back to you as soon as possible.” Maverick’s voice was soft and reassuring but Sam didn’t feel reassured. 

In fact, the more Maverick spoke, the more her eyes watered. The more her heart pounded and her head began to ache. She felt sick to her stomach and Maisy had noticed that she had begun to vibrate and took a hold of her. She had tuned everything out, but faintly heard Mav ask ‘are you okay?” to which Maisy then asked ‘what happened?’ and Maverick quickly explained to her when she took the phone from Sam. 

Maisy hung up the phone and pulled Sam into her lap, hugging her tight as Sam sobbed uncontrollably. Maisy held her for a long while, running her hands over Sam’s arms and over her back. 

“He’ll be okay. They’ll get him back.” Maisy said softly and Sam took in a deep and shuddering breath.

“Yet all I can think is what if they don’t? I love him so fucking much, Maisy. I can’t lose him too.” Sam said and Maisy guided her to her feet.

“C’mon. I think you should go take a shower and hop in bed and relax. Wash all the sad off of you. I’ll make you a cup of tea and bring it up to you, okay?” Maisy said and Sam nodded, her stare blank, tears staining her cheeks. She glanced down, feeling a presence at her feet. It was Rocco. She picked the little red dachshund up and cuddled with him for a few moments.

“I know you miss him too, Roc. You liked him from the start and I should’ve listened to you sooner.” Sam said, kissing the little dog’s head. He licked her cheeks, which made her laugh a little, as tears still fell steadily. She sniffled and puffed out a few short breaths, trying to calm herself. Rocco pressed his snoot against her neck and whined, trying his best to console Sam too. Maisy guided her up the stairs and when they got the bathroom, Sam glanced in the mirror and her brain sent her back to the day Jake had been deployed, when he stood behind her in the mirror in his dress whites.

“ And you’re more beautiful than an afterburner at night .” He’d said and that had stuck with her. Jake loved his job. He loved the jets. He loved flying. It was second nature to him. For him to compare her to one of the things he loved the most...for him to basically say she was better than that, than the thing he loved the most, that meant the fucking to Sam. If she knew Jake well enough, she knew that he would do everything in his power to get back to her.

[mrnnki]

arranging all of the LPS that managed to survive my childhood by year on their copyright statement (ft. cat paws)

the bottom row are a mystery, but for the others it goes: 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008

[autumnmatt]

𝘨𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺.

summary: matt is playing fornite with his two brothers and he gets to loud when he keeps losing, causing his girlfriend to wake up from her slumber.

classification: fluff

warnings: kissing, pet names, suggestive language, use of y/n

it was about 3 in the morning and you were fast asleep in yours and matts bed, snuggled up in a blanket with matts stuffed pug mr. wrinkleton tucked under your arm.

matt on the other hand was in the middle of a very intense fornite match with his brothers nick and chris. there were about 10 people left in that match and your boyfriend was very determined to win.

all was going good during the game play until him and his brothers came across this very sweaty team. “on me on me!! these kids are good I need backup quickkk” matt yelled to nick and chris through his headset.

he then faced one of the opposing teammates but of course he lost the battle between them and got knocked. “FUCKKKKK” he screamed out of frustration. nick also got killed a little while after matt did by the same person.

y/n wasn’t that much of a heavy sleeper so when he started to yell out, she shifted in bed a little opening up her eyes to see what the yelling was coming from.

she looked up and saw the bright screen in front of her with fornite being played along with her boyfriend sitting in his gaming chair banging on the desk from just getting killed. she puts the blanket over her head and closes her eyes in an attempt to fall back asleep.

“CHRIS DUDE YOURE SO BAD THOSE KIDS WERE ASS” matt yells, slamming his controller on the desk making a very loud sound that could be heard throughout the room.

y/n tossed and turned once more slowly losing the battle of getting back to sleep. so she got up, yanked the covers off of her body, and started sleepily walking over towards matt, dragging her feet with every step she took.

once she made it over to the chair where he sat she stood there, waiting for matt to realize she was standing here. and once he did he could see the pout forming on her lips, instantly feeling guilt for being so loud so late at night.

“oh baby I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” he frowned, muting his mic and taking his headset off then holding his arms out to her and patting his lap, inviting her to come sit down.

she straddled him and rested her head on his shoulder, enjoying the comfort of his warm body and taking in his familiar scent, the scent she loved most.

“go back to sleep baby, I promise I’ll keep it down”. he said and kissed the top of her head, wrapping his arms around her so that he could still have access to the controller also slowly rubbing up and down on her lower back.

“come to bed with me.” she groaned into his shoulder. she was already strarting to fall back asleep.

“of course I will baby.” he smiled taking his hands off the controller putting the headset on one last time to tells his brothers his was going to sleep. he shut of his computer, put his headset and controller up and gently picked her up to bring to the bed.

you wrapped your arms around his neck to prevent yourself from falling out of his arms. your face now buried into his chest.

he set you down on your side of the bed before walking over to his pulling the blanket over the both of you and situating the pillows so they were at a comfortable position under your heads.

you faced him for a few seconds to say your goodnights. you kissed his lips lazily before speaking. “goodnight I love you.” you spoke up, resting your head onto his chest and wrapping your arms around him.

“goodnight I love you too baby”. he said before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him. he kissed your forehead before you slowly drifted off to sleep in each others arms.

a/n: AHHHH I think this is so cute. my 2nd story on here, thank you so much for the love on my first story and definitely send me some requests. hope you enjoyed this fic, love you all!!!

taglist: @stayingstromboli @conspiracy-ash

respond to this post to be apart of my taglist!

[eomayas]

distracted • hjs

pairing: husband&dad!joshua, wife&mom!reader, established relationship

genre: smut 18+ MINORS DNI!!!!!!!!! fluff, parent au, non-idol au

synopsis: reader is literally just feral for joshua

warnings: pwp, p in v, oral (m receiving), riding, praise, dirty talk, soft!dom!josh, breeding, josh calls reader a ‘slut’ (lovingly) once, reader & josh are parents, reader losing her mind over josh mainly. JOSHUA ARMS. unedited ;)))

a/n: i’ve experienced extreme joshua brainrot lately then did an extreme deep dive of jarms (joshua arms) until 2 in the morning. i am unwell and need him like a fish needs water

joshua pushes the shopping cart that holds groceries, and your daughter in the front of the basket, down the aisle. you trail a step or two behind them, mind a bit foggy and… distracted. you don’t know what it is, he’s just wearing a plain, white tshirt and blue jeans—he’s worn it before—and you’re running errands together like you always do. but today is different, and you can’t seem to comprehend a single thing going on around you, or really look at your husband without feeling mild insanity.

first, you’d wandered into the store in a daze, forgetting that joshua was grabbing the shopping cart with your daughter, after having sat in the front seat watching him drive for twenty minutes. his hand sat steady at ten and two, ever the safe driver when your daughter was present, though at stop lights he would sometimes grab your hand or settle his palm on your leg. you felt lost since the morning, woke up with your mind cloudy and your brain foggy just at the mere sight of him.

then, you couldn’t remember a single thing on your grocery list. in your clouded state, you must’ve forgotten the list in the kitchen; it wasn’t a big deal, except for the fact that you literally couldn’t think about a single thing that you needed to buy, and you are usually the one leading the pack around the store. so the three of you have been wandering around the grocery store for longer than you want to be, circling back to the same aisles you’ve already been on because you can’t remember what it is you need to buy.

now you’re back in the dairy aisle, unsure of why you’re back because youve already grabbed milk and cream cheese, so you’re just standing in front of the cold, double doors without a single thought in your head. “yogurt, maybe?” joshua tries, pausing his conversation with your child to help you out. you blink once, twice before mumbling out a ‘right’ and pulling the doors open and grabbing a container.

“mommy, that’s not the right one!” your daughter whines when you drop it in the basket. she’s frowning at you, eyebrows crinkled the same way joshua’s do. god. you make the mistake of looking up at him, and your entire body flushes you meet his gaze. his eyes are soft but questioning, asking if you if you’re alright without actually saying it. no, i’m not, you think to yourself, discreetly sweeping your hand up your neck to check your pulse. it’s fast, and you’re definitely still alive.

joshua watches you with mild concern; he’s noticed your strange, avoidant behavior since this morning when he got back from the gym. you had looked almost surprised when he walked into your bedroom, like you weren’t expecting him back. your eyes widened, and your lips parted like you were going to say something but nothing came out. he beat you to words, anyway, giving you a soft ‘good morning’ that made you blush—he’d ignored it because you seemed… off—and kissed you on the lips. he thought he really smelled with the way you rushed your lips off of his and rolled out of bed, nearly tripping over your own feet. joshua grabbed you so you wouldn’t fall, and he felt you tense in his hold, a frown etching on his features. he brushed it off and asked if you wanted to shower with him, expecting a ‘yes’ from the look that flashed through your eyes, but you instead mumbled something about having to make breakfast before hurrying out of the bedroom all together. you basically avoided him all day since then, never really looking at him or talking to him directly—none of which you do on a constant basis.

the yogurt was, in fact, incorrect down to the brand and flavor. “i’m sorry, baby,” you say to your daughter, running a hand over her hair before grabbing the yogurt to swap it out for the correct one, this time taking a few seconds to scan everything in the fridge. you appreciate the cold air from the refrigerator, as it cools you down from the rush of heat you feel along your face and neck. you take a breath and tell yourself to get a fucking grip before dropping the correct item into the cart.

“daddy, can i get ice cream?” your daughter asks joshua as you start ambling through the grocery store. you cut your eyes at your daughter for not asking you, but you know it’s because joshua never says no to her.

“of course, princess,” and you watch with pure adoration as he places a kiss on her forehead and she just giggles, scrunching her shoulders up to her ears. joshua is a good husband, but he’s an even better father, and you love watching him interact with your daughter. they have a special connection that you love to witness, a secret language just between the two of them. it’s moment like this where you want another kid—or maybe it’s part of the hazy mess you’re in because of his sheer existence.

you follow behind joshua towards the ice cream aisle. the shirt he wears is tight on him, straining against his biceps and shoulders. you can make out his back muscles depending on how the light hits the fabric, and you feel even crazier than before. his muscles have been the source of your you distracted state today. joshua has always been muscular, and he’s always worked out, but something about him recently has flipped a switch in your brain that has made you feel absolutely feral every time you catch a mere glimpse of his arms—which is quite literally every day. this morning it was too overwhelming, him coming home and shedding his jacket to reveal himself in a simple black tank top that looked a size too small, and gray sweats that made you feel like you needed to go to confessional.

another rush of cold air pulls you out of your lustful daze and you stand at the back of the shopping cart as joshua shuffles through the cartons of ice cream, asking your daughter her input. you try to keep your eyes focused on your daughter, anything else, but cant help when they drift over to your husband, his arms flexing each time he grabs a pint and displays it to your daughter. joshua casts a glance at you, a smile that says can you believe this? when you daughter shakes her head for the fourth time, despite not asking to look for herself. you blush under his gaze, heat spreading down your neck and chest before settling in your stomach.

"i thought you liked the oreo one?" you say to your daughter, voice slightly hoarse. you smooth a hand over her hair to give yourself something to do, hands a little clammy from all of your nerves working overtime.

"i do..." she trails off, turning to look at you with a tiny pout on her lips.

"tell daddy before he freezes," you say, placing a soft kiss on her cheek. just the mere reference to joshua feels heavy in your mouth, makes your stomach flutter for reasons you can't really explain.

joshua places the pint of oreo ice cream into the cart, circling around to the front and playfully ticking your daughter under her chin. she giggles loudly and you smile as you watch her become a spitting image of her father. arms cage you between the carts handlebar and a firm chest, and suddenly your eyes are no longer on your kid but on the strong, veiny forearms that belong to your husband. “excuse me,” he murmurs, a teasing lilt to his voice like he knows that you’re losing your mind at the simple sight of him.

wordlessly, you gently grab his right arm to remove yourself from his entrapment. “hey,” joshua says softly, reaching out for your wrist as you move swiftly to get away from him. turning, goosebumps arise on your skin, and you tell yourself that it’s because his hands are ice cold. “you okay, honey?” your stomach flips and you press your lips into a small smile, nodding.

joshua stares at you for a beat before leaning down a few inches, silently begging for a kiss. you nearly combust at the thought, not trustworthy of yourself to behave normally in public. but his eyes are fond, and you love him so much and want him so bad that you raise up on your toes and brace yourself on his shoulders before delivering a soft, quick peck to his lips. you’re proud of yourself for holding back, but joshua isn’t satisfied because he stays leaned over in the spot you kissed him in for a few seconds after the fact that you’ve pulled away. if you were at home, he’d yank you back to him but because you’re in public he files that grievance away and straightens up.

“i want a kiss,” your daughter pouts, cutely crossing her arms over her chest. since she doesn’t specify from whom, both of you lean in and press kisses to her cheeks. her giggle ripples through you, filling your stomach with butterflies and your chest with a type of love reserved only for her. you’re momentarily pulled away from your joshua shaped daze, until his hand is settling on your lower back. it chilling, his touch, and it’s not because his hands are ice cold from standing in the grocery store freezer for two minutes.

a shiver runs up your spine and you slip out of his grasp, not paying attention to where or what you’re walking into until joshua is pulling you back into him, his hand splayed across your stomach and your back colliding with his chest. “babe, watch out,” a woman pushing a cart stops short, a look of remorse on her face.

“oh my god, did i hit you?” she asks, and you figure you must look injured or something, because she looks genuinely concerned for your wellbeing. the flush on your face is not due to the fact that you were almost ran over, but because joshua hasn’t moved his hand from your stomach and hasn’t put any distance between your back and his front. he stays pressed against you, holding you firmly in front of him, his hold tightening ever so slightly.

“n-no, i’m alright,” you manage, lips tingling. “i swear.” you add when her eyebrows don’t drop from her hairline. at that, she seems to believe you enough snd offers you a smile and a curt nod before hurrying down the aisle.

“are you alright, honey? you’re trembling,” joshua says, his deep voice like melted wax running down your back. you make the mistake of looking up and over your shoulder at him, his palm pressing into your lower belly.

he peers down at you with soft eyes, ready to question you again until your tongue darts out to wet your lips before you tuck your bottom lip under your top one and nod. he knows the look in your eyes all too well��hunger, but not for food—and heat pools in his chest. joshua is much better at hiding his desire for you, especially in public and in front of your child, and he’s able to keep his expression the same, pretending he never saw that look in your eye. “i’m fine,” you’re shuffling away from him again, this time checking to make sure you’re not seconds away from being ran over with a shopping cart.

somehow, you three mange to finish your shopping trip without anymore mishaps. it requires circling back to the same aisles more than once because neither you nor josh can remember what you wanted to buy, but at least you can say you’re done. joshua loads the groceries into the trunk while you buckle your daughter into the backseat. she yawns, stretching her little arms up and out. “sleepy?” you ask her, a small smile on your face.

“no,” she says, vehemently shaking her head. you chuckle hum a sound of disbelief before dropping a kiss on her forehead and going to the front seat. the trunk closes and you suck in a breath as you watch him in the rearview mirror. he brushes his hand through his hair, and even through the mirror and the tint of the trunk window, you can make out his bicep muscle flexing with the motion.

it’s nearly pathetic how horny you feel just looking at him—like an overgrown teenager who just got into their first relationship. except you’re an adult, married to this man, and this behavior is no longer considered ‘cute’.

joshua gets into the front seat and smiles at you, leaning over the console to give you a kiss. his hand rests on the side of your neck, and you wonder if he’s trying to check your pulse, to mess with you. you keep your hands to yourself, because if you touch him, you might never stop.

pulling back from your mouth, he looks into your eyes before flicking them back down to your lips. joshua starts to lean in but seems to remember you’re not alone, and sits back in his seat, his hand lingering on your neck for a moment before he starts the car and asks your daughter if she’s ready to go.

the car ride is quiet, save for your daughters yawns and insistence that she is not tired. she makes most of the noise, talking about random things that you and joshua entertain with ease. he watches her in the review mirror with real, unconditional love in his eyes. it does nothing to help your situation, and just makes you want to give him another baby.

when you arrive back at your house, you quickly get out of the car, grateful to get out of the stuffy, suffocating feeling of being in the front seat. you walk around the back and help your daughter out, ready to carry her inside until she exclaims, “i want to help!”

you ser her down on the ground and she runs over to joshua. you watch him give her two of the lighter bags of groceries, and raises her arms to show you, a big smile on her face. you smile back and press in the garage code and tell her to go inside of the house, seemingly leaving you and joshua alone. you sidle up next to him, and joshua lightly bumps his hip into yours. “hmm?” you question without looking up from the numerous bags in the back of the car.

“why are you avoiding me?” he asks, and the directness makes your hands clam up.

“i’m not avoiding you,” you say, taking a few grocery bags and backing up from him.

“you quite literally are.”

you stare up at him, his eyebrows knitted together in slight irritation. “i still love you, if that’s what you’re asking,” you clarify. his features soften and his shoulders relax a bit. those shoulders. your eyes drifts down his figure, lingering on his flexed forearms, veins bulging out from the tension of carrying the grocery bags.

joshua watches you obviously ogle and check him out, his entire figure relaxing at his realization. “oh, i get it now,” he teases, a slow smirk sliding across his lips.

“get what?” you play dumb, taking a tentative step backwards before turning around and trying to keep your walk casual as you walk through the garage. it’s so obvious you’re trying to keep space between the two of you, putting anything in the way to keep you off of him.

“that you wan-“ joshua cuts himself off because you push open the door that leads you into the house. he clears his throat and closes the garage door before following behind you into the kitchen. your daughter is standing on her tippy toes trying to reach a cupboard that’s way to high for her, concentration etched on her face. “need help, bub?” he asks, setting his bags down on the counter.

“i can’t reach,” she whines, yawning immediately after. joshua lifts her up into his arms and opens the cupboard for her abd allows her to put the item away. “i’m tired, daddy.” she rests her head on his shoulder, tiny arms encircling around his neck.

you watch them and you feel your heart grow three times in size, like the grinch. joshua coos at her and pats her head before agreeing to put her down for a nap. you busy yourself with unloading the groceries, stomach flipping at the thought of having at least an hour alone with your husband. you can’t believe how depraved you feel.

joshua comes back downstairs a few minutes later, right when you’re putting the last thing into the fridge. “you finished?” he asks. you nod, heart hammering in your chest as he walks over to you. his hands drop onto your hips, pulling you flush against him. you keep your eyes straight ahead, leveled wirh his chest, and joshua dips his head down to meet your eyes. “see: you’re avoiding me.”

hear creeps up your neck and you shake your head. “i’m not.”

“don’t try to gaslight me,” he teases, making you roll your eyes and finally look up at him. “there she is.” he murmurs, leaning down a few centimeters to connect your lips. your hands flatten against his chest, and he walks your backwards into one of the kitchen counters. joshua leans over you, trying to press you flat against the surface despite the lack of space.

“shua,” you breathe once you pull away when he unbuttons your jeans.

“what, you’ve got somewhere better to be?” he asks, arching one of his eyebrows.

“i… i have to do laundry…” you say halfheartedly. joshua laughs at this, dropping his forehead against yours. “i’m serious!” you say, but you’re smiling too. “i want to go back to avoiding you.”

joshua pulls back to look down at you, making a face that says for what? “i thought you wanted me to fuck you?”

“yeah, i’m afraid nothing will keep me off of you if we start,” you say honestly. joshua blushes deeply, a boyish grin on his face. “i want you so bad—i think i might be ovulating? i don’t know. i just want you so. bad.” you punctuate the last part with the press of your knuckles into his chest.

“you’re ovulating?” it’s like bells went off in his head.

“maybe, i don’t know. i don’t keep track of that shit. i just need an explanation for how i feel,” you say, hands sliding along his chest absentmindedly.

joshua raises both of his eyebrows at you, fake shock on his face. “maybe because you have a super hot and sexy husband who is also a really good father? just a hunch.”

“no, i don’t think that’s it,” he rolls his eyes at you and you giggle, balling his shirt up into your fists and pulling him down to you. joshua grips onto the counter to steady himself, his hold tight enough to turn his knuckles white. he presses his pelvis into yours, his his erection pressing against your leg.

joshua wraps an arm around you and splays his hand across the small of your back. he presses you down onto the counter and you grip his shoulders tightly, craning your mouth away from his to breathe out, “not here.” he pulls you up from the counter and looks down at you, his chest moving up and down quickly. you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he thinks about a place to fuck you that won’t bring attention to the two of you. “laund-ah!” he swoops you up into his arms easily, already carrying you in the direction of your laundry room before you can even get the entire word out.

you wrap your legs around his waist as you buzz with need and anticipation. you let yourself revel at being carried by him after lusting over his arms all day. he carries you like you’re weightless, with his his hands resting under your ass for support. “god,” you whisper to yourself, pressing a kiss into his neck.

“i love you,” he rasps as he enters the laundry room. he shuts and locks the door behind him before dropping you onto the washing machine. his hands are flying to undo the buttons of your blouse and you pull him closer using your ankles that are still wrapped around him.

“love you more,” you murmur, helping him with removing your top. “your turn.” your urge, pulling the hem of his shirt.

“sure you can handle it?” he teases. you flush and lightly push at his abdomen. “don’t wanna make you pass out or anything.” he smirks at you, loving to watch you squirm.

“i can handle it,” you say, feeling so embarrassed to even be in this position. luckily, joshua is sweet to you above all and draws you in for a kiss. you skate your hands up underneath his shirt, nails lightly scratching against his torso. “take it off.” you mumble against his lips, hands pushing up the material of his shirt. you feel like you could rip him out of the fabric.

joshua pulls back and makes an entire show of getting undressed. he runs a hand through his hair and purposefully flexes his bicep as he does so. if this was any other time, you’d roll your eyes and call him annoying. but today, all you can do is watch and try not to drool.

he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it into an empty laundry basket nearby. you waste no time leaning forward and pulling him into a kiss, threading your fingers through his hair. you move to kiss his jaw and then his neck, your hands sliding down his body. you kiss across his chest, going lower until the position becomes uncomfortable. lightly shoving him, you hop off of the washing machine and drop to your knees in front of him.

joshua watches you with dark eyes, holding onto the edge of the machine. you fumble with his belt, hands shaking with anticipation of finally having him, and he makes no effort to help you out. your hands work too fast, and you mess up when you try to pull the buckle open for the second time. “i’ve got all day,” he say smugly. you ignore him, and finally pull his belt free. you work his pants down to his ankles, leaving. him in just his briefs. you let out a breath and look up at him with pure lust. “as pretty as you look right now, you’d look much better with my cock in your mouth.”

quickly, you pull his underwear down and let them pool together with his pants, hands flying to grab ahold of his member. you pump him a few times, flicking your eyes to look up at him. joshua gives you a slight nod, signaling you to start sucking, and you eagerly oblige. sticking your tongue out, you lick up the precum that dribbles out of the tip before you wrap your lips around the head and push him into your mouth, cheeks hollowing as you go. a groan escapes joshua’s mouth and he gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

you drag him into your mouth inch by inch, your eyes never once leaving his. his chest heaves up and down, moving faster and faster the closer you get to taking him all the way. tears prick in your eyes when he hits the back of your throat, but you keep going until your nose nearly presses into his hips. “shit,” he whispers, leaning more of his weight into the washing machine.

you bob your head up and down, pulling back and stroking what doesn’t fit. you swirl your tongue around the tip, cheeks hollowing to create more suction when you suck on the tip. joshua moans lowly above you and tells you how good you’re doing. his eyes flutter shut, squeezed shut in pleasure and his chin drops down to his mouth. you want his eyes on you, want him to watch you as you make him feel good, so you purposefully scrape your teach against his dick to get his attention.

his eyes fly open as he jerks back from you, glaring at you when you smile around him. “brat,” he spits and tightens his grip on your hair. you sigh through your nose and press your thighs together, cunt throbbing with need. you keep bobbing your head, speeding up slightly and taking more of him into your mouth. when joshua presses your head down, you relax your throat and let him take control, hands moving to hold onto his thighs. “good girl.” he grunts, holding your head down on his dick for a few seconds until you gag, and then he pulls you off of him.

he does this a few more times, his cock twitching against your tongue. tears gather in your eyes but you power through, determined to make him cum. he pulls you down onto him, cursing each time he hits the back of your throat. “fuck, you take me so well. i’m c-close,” tears slip down your cheeks and mix in with the spit and cum. your face is a mess, but neither of you care.

joshua fucks his cock into your mouth, holding your head steady in his hands. you dig your nails his thighs to combat the ache in your jaw. he thrusts into your mouth until he can’t take the feeling of your warm mouth around him anymore, his cum shooting into the back of your throat. you keep your mouth open to catch all of his seed, some of it gathering around the corner of your lips. “s-swallow,” he demands when he pulls his cock away from your mouth.

you obediently swallow, and he whines in the back of his throat. “goddamn, i love you,” he holds his hands out to you and helps you up onto his feet. he wipes the corners of you lips with his thumb and shoves it into your mouth, lips parting when you suck on his thumb like you just did his cock. “youre such a slut.” he murmurs, a loving gaze in his eyes.

a trail of saliva connects your lips to his thumb when you pull it out of your mouth. “promise?” you ask.

joshua smiles and pulls you into a kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth. his hands make use of unbuttoning your jeans and shoving his hands down your pants. your panties are damp, and he’s a bit shocked and honored that you’re this wet for him. “i need you,” you whine, peppering kisses down his neck. you don’t even want his fingers, just want him inside of you.

“i know,” he rasps, slipping a finger between your folds. you shudder when he touches you, his finger playing with your arousal and brushing over your clit, just to make you jump. you clench around nothing, and it’s nearly painful how turned on you are.

“joshua!” you whine, nipping at his neck. his hand immediately grabs onto your hair and yanks, a hiss emitting from your lips followed by a smirk.

“needy brat,” he grumbles, walking the two of you over to the work bench in the room. he drops onto it and spreads his legs invitingly. you quickly step out of your jeans and underwear, his eyes roaming over your body. “you’re a beautiful, y/n.”joshua says sincerely; at the end of the day, he is simply a lover boy.

you smile at him and quickly drop yourself onto his lap, straddling him and wrapping your arms around his neck. you reach between the two of you and position yourself over his cock. his hands grip onto your hips tightly and guide you down onto him, bottom lip drawing in between his teeth.

“ah-fuck!” you cry when you sink onto the tip, the initial stretch rippling through you.

“you’ve got it, baby,” he encourages, thumbs rubbing sift circles into your hips. you bite down on your bottom lip, hands gripping tightly onto his shoulders as you sink lower and lower onto him. “goddamn, girl.” he grunts, hips bucking when you clench around him.

when you manage to take all of him, you sit still and catch your breath, head resting on his shoulder. joshua unhooks your bra and you lean back to slide it off your arms. “you okay?” he asks, hands groping your chest.

“uh huh,” you rasp, taking it as a sign to start fuckign him, licking your lips and raising your hips before dropping onto his lap. “fuck, shua.” whimpers leave you lips as you fuck yourself onto him, using his shoulders as leverage to move yourself up and down. joshua relaxes into the wall, his grip on your hips loosening as you gain momentum and find a rhythm.

“you’re so tight,” he groans, one of his thumbs finding your clit and rubbing slow circles around the sensitive nub. “been thinking about fucking you all day.” joshua sighs and rubs your clit quicker, eyes peering up to watch your facial expressions. “you need me as bad as i needed you?” he mumbles, voice low and husky.

“more,” you pant, still bouncing up and down on him. your cunt clamps around him like it’s trying to keep him there. “shuaaa!” you whine, thighs burning. you sit on his lap, rolling your hips into his.

he chuckles breathlessly, rolling his other thumb over one of your nipples. “yeah? tell me,” he grins at you devilishly, this side of him only coming out in your intimate moments.

“so bad,” you cry, grinding down onto his lap. “w-wanna give you a-another baby.” you squeeze around him involuntarily, a knot forming in your stomach. joshua twitches inside of you at the mention of having another child.

“yeah? want me to fill you up?” you whimper and nod, legs starting to shake. “want me to fuck you full of my cum until you’re pregnant again?” he lets go of you breast to place both hands underneath your ass. he lifts you up and drops you down, a show of his strength as he fucks you up an down onto him.

joshua grumbles filthy things into your ear; tells you that he’s gonna fuck you until you can’t walk, that he’s gonna stuff you full, that’s he’s going to give you another baby tonight. “f-fuck! i-im gonna cum,” you cry, throwing your head back in pleasure. he bucks his hips up into you, hitting that spongy spot inside of you repeatedly.

spots blur your vision and your cunt spasms around him as you reach your climax. it hits you like a thousand bricks, and you’re shaking in his arm and crying out his name. you expect him to stop, but he keeps thrusting up into you, drawing out your orgasm further. you can hardly think through the waves of pleasure, which is why you hardly register that he’s lifted you up until you’re placed on a cold surface.

joshua drags you to the edge of the washing machine and slams his cock into you, nearly knocking the wind out of you. “o-oh my god,” you gasp, tears brimming in your eyes for the second time tonight. “you feel so good!”

he drives his hips into you brutally, his fingers digging into the fat of your thighs. “f-fuck, i’m not gonna last,” he groans, dropping his head into your neck. he kisses your skin and lightly bites, though not hard enough to leave marks. you cling to him, arms secured around his shoulders like you may fall if you dont hold on.

his thrusts get sloppier by the second, indicative of his nearing climax. “i love you,” you breathe, nails clawing at his back. he grunts, whining out curses as he cums inside of you, his dick twitching between your walls. he stills, fingers applying bruising pressure to your hips.

after a few moments, he lifts his head from your shoulder and looks at you, a tender smile on his face. he presses his lips to your gently, sighing against you as he goes soft. “shit,” he pants, followed by a light chuckle.

you can’t help but giggle back, running a hand through his hair. he doesn’t want to pull out, not yet at least, wanting to make sure his cum stays inside of you as long as possible. he lets go of your thighs and wraps his arms around you, squeezing you into his chest. you kiss the column of his throat, right on his adam’s apple and rubs soft circles into your back.

“we should clean up,” he murmurs, starting to draw back from you. you make a sound of disagreement and squeeze around him on purpose. “b-brat.” he stammers, curling away from you.

he pulls out of you with a lewd squelch, both of you turning light shades of pink at the noise. he helps you off of the washer and you lean against it. he finds a random towel and comes back to wipe between your legs before cleaning himself off and tossing it in the same basket he threw his shirt in. “i guess i could start a load,” you say, looking at all of the discarded clothes, making joshua laugh.

he helps you gather them up and drop them into the washer. you add in the detergent and slam the top closed. except, when you go to start the washer, joshua places a hand on your back and presses you flat against the washer and slots his knee between your legs to spread them open. you don’t get a chance to prepare yourself because he’s pushing into you again, a strong arm wrapping around your middle to hold you steady as he fucks into you from behind, determined to get you pregnant tonight.

[shotmrmiller]

living in some dingy apartment building because it is all you can afford on your income unless you want to eat danimals yogurt and saltine crackers for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. the stern landlady lives on the first floor, and some neighbors blast music on weekday nights (even if they didn't, the walls are paper-thin. you know more about the cambrian period than you'd like to, thanks to room 105) but it's a modest roof over your head and while the darkened grout lines in the bathroom are permanent, at least there's hot water.

until there isn't. and the landlady has mysteriously gone on vacation for the next two months.

what used to be a cathartic cleansing has now become your torment. every other day is hair wash day which means you're bent over the cold, porcelain edge of your tub, back screaming in protest and pain shooting up your bruised knees even though you've sacrificed one of your very nice pillows to avoid exactly that.

and showering is torture. the icy cold water feels like a thousand tiny claws scraping over your tender scalp, sinking into your trembling shoulders. you don't wait for your body to acclimate, just hastily scrub yourself as clean as you can and hop out, your chattering teeth and shaky breaths echoing through the tiny bathroom.

it's like this for a week and a half, a whole 10 days of suffering with showers so cold it feels like shards of ice biting into your goosepimpled skin when it stops. warmth bleeds into the stream of frostbitten water. finally, it soothes instead of stings. your coiled, tense muscles gradually slacken with relief, with unadulterated bliss. steam rises, the tips of your fingers and toes tingle as if thawing. gratitude wells in the corner of your eyes.

if you had any money you could afford to give, you would to your savior, but every dollar you own is earmarked for the bare essentials. so, with your thick, warm bathrobe cinched around your waist, you pen down a little heartfelt note to stick to the bulletin board downstairs before heading out for work.

thank you, whoever you are, for fixing the boiler. i could kiss you <3

when morning comes, you use one of the dull, golden tacks that previously held a lost pet flyer (sorry, bilbo the hamster, but it's been a year) and pin your note up.

only to come home and find it gone, a torn corner all that remains. maybe it's karma for your callousness towards someone's pet. (justice for bilbo.) you shrug it off, giddily skipping up the steps to wash off the day's stress with hot water.

but before you even hang your keys on the wall, there's a pounding on your door, hard enough to rattle it in its frame. and the masked man you see through the peephole isn't familiar. against your better judgment, you clear your throat before cracking open the door. "yes?"

the piece of paper he's holding in his dinner plate-sized hands seems incredibly small— and it's your note.

"i fixed the water." oh. "'m 'ere for wha' 'm owed." owed?

"i'm not— um. the kiss. it's just a figure of speech." the thick muscle of his bicep coils as he crosses his arms over his barrel chest. he's a very large man, as broad as your door.

if you slammed it closed on him, he'd probably leave it hanging by its hinges. that's not worth a measly kiss.

"okay. but on the cheek since i never specified where so it's dealer's choice."

he huffs out an amused breath but complies, hooking his thumb under the edge to pull up his balaclava just enough to expose his stubbled cheek. he's got a couple of scars; thin, slightly raised. run along the sharp edge of his jaw and disappear beneath the fabric.

he leans close, enough to hear his steady, slow exhales. he smells of dirt. salt. something smoky, tangy-- like on new years, minutes after the clock strikes 12.

your hands cradle his face as you rise to your tippy-toes, wetting your lips and crane your neck-- but he snaps his head to the side,

and takes the kiss he was owed.

(he takes a screwdriver to the ac unit next. wire cutters to the fuse box. nails to your tires. anything that'll inevitably lead you back to him. you tried paying him with dinner but the only thing he was interested in eating was your cunt.)

[winnie1emon]

✧.* now what happens when you find a frustrated theodore nott on the quidditch pitch...?

theodore nott x prefect!lamb!reader (fem pov)

word count: approx. 2.4k

cw: MDNI!!, smut, dom!theo, innocent!reader, sexual language, praise, piv, fingering, unprotected sex, face painting lmao, slight exhibitionism(?)(on the quidditch stands lol)

a/n: first smut fic like ever i fear... don't bully please </3 + been working on this sleep-deprived, lmk about spelling mistakes :(

"Hey- hey!" you said loudly over the raging music, leaning over your friend's shoulder. "I'm gonna go; got prefect duty!"

Your friend, too engrossed in your house's quidditch victory party after they had beaten Slytherin earlier that evening, gave you a mere nod before realizing you actually said something. "Really? There are other prefects out anyways and you never find anyone. Don't be lame, just stay!"

"No, it's fine. I like walking outside anyways, it's fun," you explained, garnering a rather dismissive wave goodbye from your friend.

You trudged down the corridors searching for the way out of the castle. Curfew was approaching and you were given the task of finding a few stragglers outdoors; a task you most appreciated due to the fact you'd never find anybody and you were usually lucky with receiving ample amounts of good weather.

Too comfortable with the usual, you spent most of your patrol time frolicking on the grassy fields and never looked too carefully for any students. You were about to head back inside when you saw the broom shed's door open. Curiously, you peered inside and nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary...

A bit daunted, you closed the door and suddenly saw movement in the corner of your eye. You whipped around quickly, seeing someone flying on the quidditch pitch. You made your way into the pitch, assuming it was some overzealous lowerclassman riding on their broomstick.

As you made your way into the pitch, you realized how large it really was, somewhat awestruck. Hearing a distressed grunt, you turned around and saw the person who was flying, quite a distance away, chuck their broom onto the ground. You hastened over and the image came into view. Their brunette waves became clearer with each step you took and you managed to get their attention.

"H-hey!" You waved. You came to a stop in front of them, slightly huffing as they looked at you acutely. "Theodore, it's curfew in like... oh, two minutes ago."

Theodore raised an eyebrow at your words, seeming as if he had no idea who you were. "What?" he asked you, even though he heard what you said.

"It's past curfew, you can't be here," you said patiently. "What are you even doing here?"

"What's it look like?" he retorted. "Practicing," he added before you could answer his rhetoric question.

"Well... you should practice tomorrow. You already had that game today, you should take a break," you suggested.

He gave you what was probably the most condescending look ever, roaming over your figure. "Yeah, and we lost, princess. Need to practice."

"Don't overwork yourself," you said, your voice tinged with concern. "You were great today, I saw!"

"Mhm, probably cheering on your house, yeah?" he sneered. "Just get lost, I'm not harmin' anyone by practicing, but you're going to tell someone aren't you?" He looked a bit taut and you couldn't help but feel a bit of pity for him. After all, he wasn't the worst player on his team yet he was the only one here practicing, probably losing hairs in the process.

"No, I won't tell anyone," you said quickly. "You look exhausted though. At least sit down." You trailed all the way to one of the tall wooden towers going up to the quidditch spectator stands, feeling the wooden bench poke your thighs. Surprisingly, he sat beside you on your right with a grunt, running his hands through his hair.

Well, now what.

You peered at him in wonderment as his gaze was set straight, admiring his birthmark. Your eyes trailed around the side of his face, looking at his thick, dark brows and then at his slightly unkempt hair. He turned suddenly to face you and you darted your head away, embarrassed. He let out a small scoff, throwing his head down in a smirk.

"So," you started. "You like quidditch?" you asked dumbly. He obviously did... he plays.

"I do," he responded. "When we win."

"You guys almost did," you consoled him, tentatively reaching to rub his shoulder.

Theodore didn't protest, finding the way your palm's touch warmed his shoulder unexpectedly comforting. He looked at your seemingly apologetic face before his eyes wandered down your form, going from your neck and then down to your legs.

"Mm, almost."

Fidgeting with your fingers, you spoke up again. "Yeah, almost! Almost is good!" You reassured him. "Don't beat yourself up-- you're already so stressed." You recalled the instances in class where he'd focus on his work, the times you saw him in the library as you patrolled the halls, and the way he never seemed to hang out with his friends this past week.

"Oh princess," he said, calling you that nickname again, making you turn a light shade of pink. "When has almost winning ever helped anyone? What can I do about the stress? Nothing's going to change if I don't work." He gave a nonchalant shrug, breaking contact with your sorry eyes as he buried his head in his hands.

"Uhm... I mean, do you want help?" You peered at him, wide-eyed and full of pity.

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

And that's how you found yourself sitting on the open quidditch stands, thighs squeezed together with your head downcast as Theodore rubbed lazy circles over your underwear.

"I-I don't really see how this is supposed to help you," you mumbled.

He used his other hand to hold your chin gently, guiding your head to face him. "You think seeing a pretty girl like you lookin' like this doesn't help me?" he simpered. You felt your face heat up from the compliment, shifting your thighs to press against each other some more.

He let go of your chin and you looked down to watch him spread your thighs apart gently. Despite never being his friend, his touch felt familiar, even soothing. In fact, you didn't protest against him, even when you felt him slip your underwear to the side and insert a thick finger into your cunt.

Your mouth agape, you turned to look at him, brows knitting together as he met your gaze with a lascivious smile. You pressed your lips together to try and catch your breath, but it only lasted a few seconds as your lips parted once he entered another digit into you. He moved slowly, not taking his eyes off of yours, drinking in your dazed look.

You felt his pace increase, his fingers going in and out of your now glossy cunt rapidly, and let out a shaky moan which made Theodore's mouth contort in a wicked smile. You threw your head back, looking up at the greying sky. He leaned closer to you, his warm breath hitting your ear as he whispered.

"Feels good, yeah? Feels good to help me decompress hm?" He asked you quietly, having you squirm from his touch. You nodded meekly and let out a small yeah in response.

You had never experienced anything like this before. You were sort of scared, but also excited... maybe a bit confused? ...happy to help?

His touch eventually slowed, his two now-soaked fingers leaving your cunt as he held them up in front of you. Your eyes followed his fingers, your face turning into that of surprise as he brought his fingers into his mouth momentarily.

"So sweet..." he breathed out. "Come on, open up," he slapped your cheek lightly with his clean hand.

You opened your mouth slightly, your eyes looking reluctant.

"Come on, don't be scared," he cooed. You opened a little wider and he gently placed the two fingers on your tongue. You swirled your tongue around slowly, tasting sweet, kind of salty as well, but you weren't sure if that was you or his fingers. Taking in your appearance with his fingers in your mouth, he gave a breathy chuckle. "Cute."

He stood up from the bench with a sigh, taking a step in front of you. "Just one more thing, that okay?" he asked, the corners of his mouth curving into a smile.

"Yeah- yeah sure," you agreed. Even though you were unfamiliar with what you guys were doing, you were just glad you could help him out in some way.

"Good girl. --Has anyone told you how sweet you are?" He leaned forward slightly and cupped your cheeks to tilt your head upwards as you stayed seated on the bench.

"Some people, mhm," you nodded.

"Well, they weren't lying." He complimented you casually, making your stomach lurch in an oddly pleasant way. You adverted your gaze so you could soak in his compliment, your head then snapping up at the sound of a zipper. He gave you a wink that you'd be thinking about for the next week and a dazzling smile that you couldn't protest against.

He guided your legs up off the ground so you'd be kneeling on the stands bench and turned you around, having you facing opposite of the center of the quidditch pitch, towards the castle. Your eyes widened from the circumstances, the risk of being so exposed. You heard him shuffle a little behind you, the sound of his pants going down, boxers following.

You felt one of his cold fingers brush against your skin as he pushed your skirt up, making you shudder. He pulled your sodden underwear down and you heard him take a sharp inhale. His fingers ran over your folds, eliciting a groan from him. "You're so wet... n' you've never done this?" he asked you.

You shook your head, making him sigh.

"And you really want to give this to me?"

"Yeah, I do," you muttered quietly. You didn't care that it was Theodore, you just saw him as someone who needed some help and you were going to give it to them... Oh, who were you kidding? Of course you cared that it was Theodore. The Slytherin that you'd always catch yourself ogling at during the quidditch games, the one you'd stare at in potions, the guy you'd hold the door open for before Charms class.

Seeing no reason to delay his pleasure, Theodore positioned himself between your legs, holding your waist from behind as he pushed the tip of his cock into your ready cunt. You couldn't help the large gasp you let out while he stretched you out. You tried to recuperate momentarily, but he continued to enter you slowly, feeling as if there was no end.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he murmured. He slid in and out of you slowly, picking up the pace over time before you started to let out involuntary moans.

"Theo- Theodore," you huffed out, almost whining. "The castle-- someone could see us," you worried.

His pace becoming incontinent, he brushed off your concern with ease. "No one will, okay?"

Even with his reassurance, you couldn't help but feel sheepish, your anxiety spiking as the thrill got to you.

"Oh my g-god," you moaned. Theodore leaned into your back, head resting on the nape of your shoulder. He snaked his arm on your other shoulder, putting you in a headlock. You brought your hands up to hold his arm, your mind going blank as he started up a relentless speed on you and had his other arm travel down to rub on your clit.

"Shh, shh," he whispered. "Now they will see us if you don't quiet down, yeah?" You nodded in agreement, understanding that you mustn't be loud. After a few minutes of biting back your moans as he drilled into you, he positioned you to lie on your back, on one of the benches. You complied and allowed him to reposition himself into you.

"F-fuck!" You mewled, unable to contain yourself in the new position.

"Shh, shh, shhh..." he shushed you once again, covering your mouth with a large hand as the other held both of your legs against his chest. "Be quiet for me, okay? You can do it," he murmured into your ear, leaning forward to kiss your cheek.

You nodded slowly as you looked up at him when he pulled his head away from you. "Good... so good."

So entranced by his eye contact, your brain drowned out the sounds of his cock going in and out of your sopping cunt, forgetting all about your precarious surroundings.

You felt the knot in your stomach begin to unravel and you knew that your orgasm was nearing. You clawed at Theodore's hand that was on your mouth and he let go, allowing your ragged gasps to float out into the air.

"You okay?" he asked you. "You close?" He couldn't help but smile endearingly at your state, horribly disheveled, biting your own lip to keep yourself from attracting attention.

"Mm," you nodded weakly, feeling your legs begin to shake. As you came undone, you felt him slow down, letting out groans of his own. You bit down on your lips harder and you could feel tears creeping into your eyes as you felt overloaded with sensations. He pulled out of you with a light pop and stepped towards your head.

He had his cock a few inches above your face and looked hesitant before asking, "May I?"

You honestly weren't very sure of what he was requesting, but you let out a soft yeah, being surprised once he spilled onto your face.

Your lips parted into an o-shape as you squinted slightly. After one last drop, you ran a finger on your cheek, observing the mark he left on you trailing down your finger. He dropped his hands to his side and crouched down to be face level with you. He cupped your face with his hands as he ushered you to sit up.

"You're a sweetheart, so nice of you to help," he praised. Even though he had just done things to you that you'd never even been brave enough to imagine an hour prior, you couldn't fight back the bashful look on your face.

"Of course," you whispered. "Do you feel better?" you asked, pulling your underwear back up.

"Yeah, yeah I do," he chortled. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

You saw the sky darkening by the second and looked out the pitch. "Oh! Someone's coming!" you exclaimed.

He gave a mischievous smile that you could stare at for days, planted a quick kiss on your lips, and grabbed your hand to stand you up, brushing ur skirt down to cover your behind.

"Then let's go."

―――――――――ʚ♡ɞ―――――――――

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 7

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 6.7k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

additional chapter cw! non-descriptive mentions of vomit

A swing and a miss, again.

Rafe’s game was all over the place, he hadn’t been able to focus in batting practice all week, and now it was the bottom of the ninth in Academy’s rivalry match against Kildare County. He was down in the count when he asked the ump for a timeout.

He had resisted the urge to look in the stands the whole game, afraid he knew what he would find, or rather, what he wouldn’t.

You usually sat behind the dugout, wearing his old jersey that he’d given you after his record-breaking freshman season, and his number in black eyeliner on either cheek. Sometimes, it would take a few days for it to wash off, and you’d show up to school with the hint of his number still faded on your skin. 

No one - not his coaches, not his teammates, certainly not his father - could read him like you could. Sometimes he’d pop his head out of the dugout between innings so you could tell him his swing was a few seconds too early for the pitcher’s fastball, or that he needed to stop chasing the backdoor slider. You were never wrong.

They’d tease him in the dugout, tossing sunflower seeds at him and taunting, “what is she, your hitting coach or your wife?” Then he’d ignore you for a few innings, though he almost never got on base without checking in with you first.

Your absence from this game was glaring, one of those same teammates taunting, “can someone please get Cameron’s hitting coach on the phone for fuck’s sake?” after his third strikeout.

He’d brushed it off, but now the game was on the line, and he realized he’d endure any amount of teasing if it meant looking up and seeing you in the stands.

He stepped out of the batter’s box, took a deep breath, and craned his neck to your usual seat, hands gripping the bat tighter when his fear was confirmed - it was empty.

He struck out, and they lost the game.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

It’s actually about to happen, the moment you’d wished for on every star, every eyelash, every birthday candle since you were six years old. The moment you never thought would actually come. You’ve played this scene in your mind a million times, what your first kiss with Rafe would be like. None of the many versions took place in an alley behind a Florida nightclub, but none of them were real either, so now was not the time to be picky. 

Rafe’s thumb was still lingering on your bottom lip, the rest of his long fingers caressing your jaw. 

“Can I? Please?”

“Yes.”

He smiled, dimples creasing his cheeks so handsomely, and leaned in. You realized you were holding your breath as you awaited the first brush of his lips against yours.

It never came. The door to the club slammed open, making you both jump. Your already thumping heart flew to your throat as Kelce stumbled out the large metal door.

“Woah, sorry,” he jumped back, smirking at the sight of you and Rafe pulling away from each other quickly.

“What could you possibly need from me right now?” Rafe said, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed in warning.

“I came out here to find her,” Kelce pointed at you. “So calm your ass down.”

“What is it, Kelce?” You asked gently, hand on Rafe’s arm to hold him back as he started stepping menacingly toward his friend.

“Something’s wrong with Carter,” Kelce said.

“What?!” Your face flooded with concern, you started toward the club, and Rafe didn’t stop you, knowing the sound of your sister’s name dashed any hope he had of keeping you in this alleyway.

“What happened?” You asked Kelce as you brushed past him back into the crowded club, Rafe following behind the two of you.

“I don’t know, she got into an argument with Top and then she stormed off,” Kelce shouted over the thundering music as he struggled to keep up with you.

You scanned the whole club, but couldn’t find her, just Topper ranting emphatically to Tom in the corner, and Sabrina and Maddie on either side of the bathroom door, trying to talk to someone on the other side.

Kelce and Rafe were lost to the crowd as you beelined toward the bathroom, forcefully pushing angry clubbers out of the way to get there. You didn’t care, you were locked-in on finding your sister.

“Is she in there?” You asked as you approached the bathroom.

“Yeah,” Maddie confirmed, looking worried, and a little queasy. “But she won’t let anyone in.”

“She’s so wasted it’s crazy,” Sabrina added with a hiccuping giggle.

You ignored her lack of concern for your sister and banged loudly on the door.

“Car? It’s me,” you shouted, “you gotta let me in, alright? I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

After a moment, and the thought that you’d break this fucking door down if that’s what it took, the handle finally turned. She opened the door just a crack to let you slip through, and closed it back firmly behind you.

Sabrina wasn’t wrong, Carter’s intoxication was written all over her face. Flushed, clammy skin and bloodshot eyes. She threw her arms around you, squeezing tight enough to knock the wind out of you.

“What happened? Are you okay?” You asked nervously.

Before you got an answer, she was on her knees in front of the toilet bowl. You rushed to grab her hair and hold it back, getting it all out of the way with just seconds to spare before she got sick.

Thinking through the day's events, you realized no one had eaten much before you left the house, and you knew this group well enough to know it didn’t take much for them to get hammered. What you didn’t know was that while you were distracted with Rafe, the rest of your group was in the club throwing back drinks and racking up tabs like the world was ending.

Rafe was having a similar realization out on the floor, trying to wrangle everyone to the front door where he had a pair of cabs waiting. He physically dragged Topper away from the bar as he demanded another drink, the bartender shouting that he was cutoff. He led Maddie and Sabrina away from some sketchy looking guys who were inviting them back to their house boat, which they proudly advertised held gallons of their homemade moonshine. He stopped Tom from sucker punching a guy who booed when the DJ played a Drake song. He lost Kelce twice.

Once he had finally corralled everyone into the cars, he convinced the drivers to hold up so he could come back and find you. He stood by the bathroom door until you appeared behind it, jumping at the sight of him standing so close.

“I got cabs waiting,” he yelled over the music, eyeing Carter sprawled out on the dirty bathroom floor behind you.

“I can’t get her up,” you told him defeatedly, eyebrows knit together with worry. “She’s not doing good.”

Rafe brushed past you without a word or a second thought, and leaned down to scoop Carter up with ease, fireman carrying her out of the club like your own personal Superman. You followed closely on his heel, feeling guilty that you were thinking about how strong his shoulders looked and not how concerned you were for your sister. 

You opened the door so he could lower her into the first cab, which only had enough seats left for you and her. Once you slid in behind her, leaning her head against Maddie, who was already dozing off with her forehead pressed on the window, Rafe made sure you were settled before closing the door.

He motioned for you to roll down the window, ducking down so he could lean on it.

“Yo Rafe let’s go man!” Topper yelled from the cab behind you before Rafe could speak.

“Give me a fucking second!” He yelled back.

Forearms against the window sill, he leaned in close enough so only you could hear.

“Just, um, don’t stop thinking what you were thinking in the alley.”

Your lips twisted into a smirk, “couldn’t if I tried.”

He gave you a wink before hurrying back to the other cab.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

You didn’t stop thinking about it. You didn’t stop when the cab driver took the wrong turn and made the trip twice as long as it should’ve been. You didn’t stop when Carter asked the driver to pull over every five minutes so she could hurl on the side of the interstate. You didn’t stop when you finally got Carter up to her room, ranting incoherently about her argument with Topper. You didn’t stop as she kneeled in front of the toilet bowl again and you held her hair back, attempting to soothe her with gentle shushes.

You should’ve been focused on your sister and the awful night she was having, but you couldn’t stop thinking about the shape of Rafe’s mouth.

The thing that finally pulled you from your thoughts of him was a sight you hadn’t seen in almost a decade; Carter started to cry. 

Carter never cried, she was your rock, the shoulder for you and all her friends to cry on. She didn’t cry when she fell off the monkey bars in third grade and broke her arm, or when she was rejected from her dream school, or even when your parents got divorced. But here she was, on the cold tile of the Airbnb bathroom floor, bawling.

“Hey, hey, woah,” you said, alarm ringing in your mind as you rushed to sit beside her on the cold tile floor. “What’s going on?”

“I’m such a mess,” she gasped between sobs.

“Well, for starters we need to get you a makeup wipe,” you countered.

“No I mean, like, emotionally,” she wiped her tears with the backs of her hands, only for a new round of drops to fall and further streak her mascara down her skin.

Your sister spent her life running from difficult emotions. It was something you tried to gently point out to her many times, but she’d typically push it away with a sarcastic joke or just ignore you altogether. 

You started therapy about a month after you got to college, taking the university health center up on its free psych eval offerings for freshmen. You’d shown up to your therapist’s office every Wednesday at 2:30 since then, religious about not missing a session. 

You recommended Carter do the same, but she’d just brush you off with a teasing, “nah I don’t need all that, I’m supposed to be the normal one, remember?”

Taking the hint, you stopped bringing it up after a few months. But now, with Carter’s tears pooling on the floor of this Airbnb, you wished more than ever that she’d listened to you.

“Well, that’s okay,” you gently brushed the hair from her shoulder. “It’s okay not to be okay.”

Carter laid her head on your criss-crossed lap and let the tears fall harder. You rubbed her back and continued to reassure her all was going to be okay, waiting until the tears began to slow and her breathing steadied to broach the subject again.

“Do you want to…” you swallowed, preparing for her to brush you off again, “do you want to talk about it?”

She was quiet for a long moment, you sighed in acceptance that she would pick the ignoring you route this time. 

Then, in a small, feeble voice, she whispered, “it’s too scary.”

“What is?” You whispered back, hand resting on her arm for comfort, praying she wouldn’t get spooked and would keep talking. 

“Loving him,” she confessed.

Your heart nearly burst. You didn’t need to ask who she was talking about.

“Topper, you mean?” you responded.

She nodded slowly, “it was easier when I didn’t love him. I’m supposed to be leaving in a week. I’m supposed to be on to my next big thing, and all I can think about is what the best time to facetime him is if I’m six hours ahead. I should be thinking about me, but all I want is him, and that’s fucking terrifying.”

The thought sent her into another round of sobs, tears soaking the skirt of your dress. 

“I know it feels scary, and new,” you tiptoed to your point, “but…have you ever really not loved him?”

She thought over your words, but the alcohol and drama of the evening was starting to pull her into a restless sleep.

“I’m gonna miss you,” she mumbled, half-asleep already. “So much.”

“Let’s just get you into bed, yeah?” You said, pulling her up off the floor. “We can talk tomorrow.”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

In the darkness of Carter’s room, your phone lit up on the nightstand.

You pulled your arm from under her slowly, praying not to wake her up now that she was finally snoozing peacefully, though her deep snores were occasionally interrupted by shaky breaths, the aftershocks of her sobs. You’d gotten both of you changed and into bed with some difficulty, a strategically placed trash can next to her side of the bed just in case. You reached over to check your phone, turning the brightness down so as not to disturb her.

You had a text from a number that wasn’t saved in your phone, starting with the same 252 area code as yours. You didn’t need to ask “who’s this?” because you’d know that seven digit combination on your deathbed. Deleting his contact from your phone had really been more of a cathartic exercise than anything else.

‘She asleep yet?’ 

‘I think so but it’s been rough, what about Top?’

‘Same, but he’s out like a light now…and snoring like a jet engine.’

You stifled your laugh so Carter wouldn’t hear, keeping your movements slow as you climbed out of her bed and padded towards the door. Wincing at the squeak of the door hinge, you pulled it slowly closed until the handle clicked. 

Down the hall, the same click sounded from Topper’s door. Rafe stood with his hand on the doorknob, listening for any signs that his exit woke the sleeper inside.

His eyes flashed up to meet yours, and you shared a knowing, nervous smile. You each walked a few steps towards the other, Rafe immediately picking up on the water pooling in your eyes. You’d held it together up until now for Carter’s sake, wanting to be strong for her like she’d always been for you, but now the heartbreak of seeing her so upset was finally settling in.

“Hey, hey,” Rafe whispered, lengthening his strides to close the gap between you faster. “What’s wrong?” 

He ducked to search your face for a second, your small sniffles breaking his heart. When a tear slipped from the corner of your eye, he pulled you in by your shoulders, wrapping his arms around you in a hug. You let your arms circle his waist, not taking the time to worry if this was strange or if you were okay being this vulnerable with him, just reveling in the comforting smell of him and the rise and fall of his sturdy chest under his t-shirt.

A few more tears slipped out, but with his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back while you breathed him in, your sadness faded slowly into a calm reassurance.

“You good?” He whispered, his chin resting on the top of your head.

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, arms still wrapped around his torso.

“I just didn’t know she was so sad,” you explained, your lip trembling slightly at the thought of your sister, with all her strength and tenacity, slumped over on the bathroom floor. “I should’ve been paying closer attention. I came on this trip for her and all I’ve been doing is thinking about myself. I’m so selfish.”

That thought caused more tears to roll down your cheeks. Rafe placed a palm on either side of your face, his thumbs reaching out to swipe away the salty drops.

“You,” he said firmly, his voice just above a whisper now, more concerned with making sure you heard what he had to say than making sure not to wake anyone, “are not selfish.”

Once your tears were dried, he lifted your face towards him so he could look in your eyes. You ever-so-slightly nuzzled your head into his palm, wondering if he could even feel the gentle way you were surrendering to him. His soft grin told you he could.

“He’s a mess, too,” he nodded back toward Topper’s door.

“I love them, but those two are exhausting,” you chuckled softly. 

Even as the conversation lightened up, his hands didn’t fall from your face, and your arms stayed firmly in place around him, just holding each other as you whisper-laughed about the antics of the whole group this evening.

“Sabrina said you had to chase Kelce half a block,” you giggled, and he’d never felt so relieved to see someone’s tears give way to laughter. “Your dad instincts really kicked in there, huh?”

“I don’t know,” he smiled, his eyes creasing with the upward tick of his lips, “the way you basically parted the crowd to get to Carter? Topper might have competition for house mother. Maybe we’re the real mom and dad.”

You snorted at that.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you blinked back, “just funny that you’re already talking about being parents when you haven’t even kissed me yet.”

Rafe nodded, tongue darting out to lick his lips, feigning seriousness, “you’re so right. We should probably do something about that.”

“You should probably do something about that,” you taunted.

His persona cracked and he laughed, eyebrows raised.

“Oh yeah? Should I?”

You nodded, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling at him as he leaned forward, eager to recapture the moment that had been so unceremoniously stolen from you a few hours ago.

Just before your lips touched, a vile retching noise came echoing down the hall from Topper’s room. He was vomiting again, and the romance was zapped from the air.

Your head fell back in frustration, groaning.

“You wanna go for a drive?” Rafe offered, hand sliding down your arm to find yours, fingers lacing together like they belonged there.

You nodded quickly, a smile replacing your annoyed frown. He led you down the stairs fast and you padded behind excitedly, giggling at his speed and urgency. 

“Shit,” he paused before reaching into the bowl on the kitchen counter where everyone was keeping their keys. “I forgot Sabrina blocked me in.”

“We’ll take Carter’s jeep,” you offered, fishing around the bowl until you found her fuzzy pink keychain. “She parked on the road.”

“She won’t mind?” He asked.

“I have a feeling she’s gonna be out for a long time,” you pointed out. “I’m driving though.”

“Just like old times,” he grinned, your heart doing cartwheels at the memory.

Fingers intertwined, you let him pull you away from the house, and the risk of any more interruptions.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

The sky glowed with that pre-sunrise blue fog, turning the world around you into a collection of navy silhouettes. The only shape you cared about seeing was the faded profile of the man in the passenger seat next to you.

Though the air still held the chilly nip of dawn, it was warm enough to roll the windows down, which was always your preference. Your hair whipped around you in a frenzy of wind. You could feel his eyes on you as you drove, but you didn’t look back, suddenly filled with nerves, butterflies crowding your stomach and doubt flooding your mind. You just kept driving, suddenly terrified of what would happen when you stopped.

After a few minutes of unreturned eye contact, Rafe finally tore his gaze away from you, poking around Carter’s car to have something to do with his hands. He opened the glove box, and the middle console, fidgeting with every little button and knick-knack he could find.

You smirked at his restlessness and kept driving straight, not entirely sure where you were going. Rafe opened the sun visor above him, gasping at what he found.

“No fucking way,” he laughed with a disbelieving shake of his head, “Carter has CDs? Still?”

He pulled the sleeve of CDs from the visor’s clip, inspecting them closer. 

“Wait,” a slow smile bloomed on his face as he observed knowingly, “these are yours.”

“How’d you know?”

“Because they’re the same ones you had in your car in high school.”

“Didn’t think you’d remember,” you scoffed.

“I remember everything about you,” he said, like it was the most obvious and casual admission anyone had ever made.

Even with the cool morning air blowing in through the window, the car suddenly felt too hot. Too hot and too small. Your chest and neck bloomed with a nervous blush as your breath quickened. How were you supposed to respond to that? 

Rafe kept sorting through the CDs, nodding at each one in recognition, leaning back in his seat as if he hadn’t just dropped an atomic bomb into the conversation.

You needed to fill the silence before he noticed the tornado of anxious thoughts tearing through your mind. 

“You gonna pick one?” You urged him, eager for the sound of familiar music to erase his words that hung in the air between you.

He finally made it to the back of the plastic sleeve, to a familiar silver disc decorated in sharpie in your handwriting; your favorite homemade mix that you’d played every single day from ages fifteen to seventeen.

You’d titled it “car mix,” though a more accurate title would be “Rafe’s mix.”

Sometime during your freshman year, you’d spent a whole day sitting in front of your computer, meticulously sorting through songs that made you think of him, or that you wanted him to listen to, hoping he would hear them and finally understand you somehow. It was a love letter without words, and he’d heard it a thousand times, but you doubted he ever really listened. Par for the course.

“I think that one got scratched,” you tried to discourage him from playing it, the flashback to your desperate, lovestruck younger self a little too much to handle at five a.m.

Rafe turned it over in his hands, inspecting it for those so-called scratches, finding nothing satisfying.

“Looks good to me,” he disagreed, popping it into the CD player and beaming bright as the first song began to play through the speakers.

“Oh my god,” he laughed, “it’s like we’re in a time machine.”

You agreed, the familiar opening notes of the first song you’d picked for him sent you flying back in time, to a girl you thought was long dead, and the boy next to her, whom she’d loved to her grave.

Chills shot up your spine, a warning shot before the tears that were beginning to gather on your lash line. You pulled the car quickly to the side of the road, sand flying up with the screech of the tires. You realized then that you’d somehow found your way to the public beach, the parking lot empty and sandy shore free of any sunbathers or surfers.

Rafe turned the music down, looking at you quizzically as your foot slammed on the break. Before he could ask what was going on, you were pulling the keys from the ignition and throwing off your seatbelt, hopping down from the driver’s seat and slamming the door behind you. He scrambled for his door handle as you started walking quickly toward the water and away from him.

The salty air was so thick you could taste droplets of seawater on your lips before you were even halfway to the shore. The waves crashed violently, remnants of the week’s storms throwing the water back and forth until it was foaming and angry.

Angry. You were as angry as the sea, sand kicking up with each stomp of your foot as you hurried as far away from him as you could possibly get. His long legs were already catching him up to you as he chased you down, calling your name.

Despite your efforts to outpace him, you could feel him gaining on you, nearly at your heel by the time your toes touched the water’s edge. Flight would not be an option, it was time for a fight.

“You remember everything?” You whipped toward him, nearly knocking him over with the force of the glare that met him. You stalked toward him, catching the way he backed up just a step before squaring his shoulders and planting himself until you were nearly chest to chest. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with that, Rafe?”

“What are you talking about?” He asked desperately, scrambling from the whiplash of your sudden outburst. “What the hell just happened?”

He was genuinely so clueless as to the reason for your sudden shift in mood, reeling like he was mentally still back in the car listening to music, eyes scanning your face as he tried desperately to catch up. You almost took pity on him. Almost.

“I can’t,” a lump lodged itself into your throat and you bit your lip for a second to hold it down, “I don’t think I can do this.”

“What? Can’t do what?” He begged for clarity.

You just shook your head, a final plea to your own tears not to fall in front of him, but they betrayed you, one single drop slipping down your face. You turned from him quickly as a final ditch ending to hide them from him, and stepped away further down the beach.

“No, no wait, please wait,” with two easy strides he was close enough to touch you, wrapping his hand around your wrist to turn you toward him. “Don’t do this to me. You said you’d remember the alleyway, we were so close. We are so close.”

“Are we?” You challenged him. “If we’re so close then why can’t I even ride in the car with you without feeling like I can’t breathe? You don’t get it, Rafe. You don’t understand that every memory feels like a fucking sucker punch.”

“Then let’s not focus on the memories,” he suggested, “I just want to be with you right now.”

“Why now?” You burst out, another tear breaking through the barricade and sliding traitorously down your cheek. “Why not then?”

They were the two questions that plagued you since you saw him on the beach. You felt you knew the reason. You looked different, he was attracted to this version of you. Even though it would hurt like a bitch, you really wished he would just admit it, that he only wanted you because of how you look now, so you could finally just hate him and move on.

Instead, he continued his time honored tradition of giving you the exact opposite of what you wanted.

He looked straight at you, no waiver in his voice as he said, “because I wasn’t ready for you. I wasn’t good enough.”

It was the perfect answer, and your worst case scenario. Heartfelt, honest, a hot knife to the wall of ice you’d worked so hard to build between you and him. As he’d done so many times before, Rafe melted you.

Soft eyes, you tilted your head as you studied him, “and you are now?”

“No,” his laugh surprised you, scoffing as if it was the most ridiculous question in the world. “But I’m smarter. Smart enough to know that I’ll never be good enough for you. Who could be?”

The last chips of ice melted away entirely at those words, the image of his sweet smile when he said them etched itself on your heart in a way you knew was completely permanent. 

As so often happened when you were at a crossroads with your own mind, you heard Carter’s voice ringing through your thoughts. Though this time, it wasn’t a quippy comment about Rafe, or a catchy mantra to encourage you to hold your head high. Instead, you heard her weak, cracked voice as she cried on the bathroom floor just hours ago; “it’s too scary.” 

Suddenly, you knew exactly what she meant.

Your every instinct was to pull away from him, hide away the vulnerable thought to avoid any risk of him making it worse. But as he looked down at you, the first traces of sunrise streaking across the horizon, casting a gold-pink glow on his cheekbones, something in the back of your mind was saying you could trust him.

“I’m scared,” you all but whispered.

Rafe lifted his hand slowly, as if you were an elusive, wild thing that would run off at any sudden movement. When you didn’t flee, he took the chance to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, voice dropping low as he said, “I know.”

“How am I supposed to know you won’t hurt me?” 

Your deepest fears continued to flow out of you, into his waiting hands, praying he wouldn’t let you slip through his fingers.

“I don’t think you will until you give me a chance to prove it to you,” he countered.

You knew he was right. Holding him at arm’s length would never get you the answers you needed from him. You’d never know if he had really changed unless you got close enough to relearn him, and you’d never know how he really felt about you unless you gave him a second chance to show you. You aren’t generally opposed to second chances, more likely to give them out then, say, your sister is.

“You know what Carter would say?” You chuckled darkly, unable to detangle your sister’s voice from your own conscience even if you wanted to. “That you don’t deserve any more chances.”

“That might be the first thing I’ve ever agreed with her on,” Rafe was quick to acknowledge. “But you know what else she’d say?”

“What?” You asked with raised brows, skeptical that he had any clue what Carter would actually say, and knowing she would hate that he was claiming to.

“That you deserve a chance.”

Funny thing is, that’s exactly what Carter would say. She didn’t really know how badly you wanted him, that you were starting to suspect you might just be happiest when you’re with him, but she always encouraged you to do what made you happy, even when it was something she didn’t understand.

“And if I’m what you want then I just happen to be the luckiest idiot in the world, because I want you too. You have no idea how badly.”

The tide was coming in, the very edge of each wave nipping at your toes before being pulled back out to sea. Rafe’s confession made you feel so unsteady, you wondered if you’d crumble and get pulled out right with it. Your mind reached for anything to ground you before you drowned in him completely.

“Why?” You asked him, needing his answer like a port in the storm.

“Why?” He repeated, either confused by the question or by the need for it. Somehow, both possibilities annoyed you.

“Yeah, tell me why you want me,” you placed your hands on your hips, shoulders squaring up with him in challenge. “And you’re not allowed to use the word beautiful, or cute, or call me baby.”

“This kinda feels like a test,” he laughed, scratching the back of his head.

“Yeah? Maybe it is,” you huffed. “And this time there’s no cheating, no open book. And no me to slip you the answers.”

“Can I get a few minutes to review my notes?” His cheeky pout was so cute you worried you were about to fold right there on the spot.

“Fine,” you allowed, “you get one minute to think about it.”

He feigned worry, faked stress, biting his thumbnail and looking out over the waves as if he actually had to think it over.

In reality, he was more prepared for this test than any he’d ever taken in his life. He’d spent years thinking about this moment, about what he would say, what he could say that would possibly be enough. 

While you waited for him to speak, you mirrored his stance, facing the water with your hands wrapped around you.

Rafe turned his head slightly to take in your profile, the sliver of daylight creeping over the horizon making your features glow so romantically.

You could feel his eyes on you, but you tried to focus on the count in your head, dutifully keeping track of the seconds until his allotted prep time was up.

Evidently, he didn’t need a timer, his voice broke the silence before you had even gotten to forty-five.

“Y’know, I got a walk-on tryout invite for baseball at Chapel Hill,” he started. 

You resisted the urge to look at him or respond, despite your mind racing to connect the dots between that statement and the challenge of explaining why he wants you.

“I was…so shitty,” he laughed at the memory, “I mean just awful. Striking out in the cage, my fielding was all over the place, I dropped a fucking pop fly. I’ve made that play a thousand times and the one time it counted, I dropped it. I mean, you wouldn’t have even recognized me out there. And the best part was that my dad came to watch. He bribed an old alum buddy to get him into closed tryouts just to watch me absolutely shit the bed.”

His smile faded.

“It was the worst day of my life. The coaches didn’t even call me themselves, they sent me an automated email to tell me I didn’t make the team. They were nice enough to send me some film from the tryout, though. I must’ve watched it a hundred times. I was spiraling like a bitch, just full on meltdown. I watched that film over and over, like some kind of torture. When I watched it, I just kept wondering how that guy could’ve ever been considered good.”

He turned to you, looking down at you intensely, hesitating for the first time since he started talking.

“I know I fumbled you. I knew it from the second it happened. And,” he swallowed hard, struggling with the next part. “I knew you were in love with me.”

Your head snapped to the side to look at him, face beat red.

“I was an idiot, but I wasn’t blind,” he continued before you could interject a defense. “The problem was never that I didn’t know, it was that I didn’t know why. But the way you looked at me, I don’t know, it made me feel like I must be like, somewhat good. Why else would you care about me if I wasn’t? But then when I was fucking rotting in my dorm watching that film over and over it dawned on me…you didn’t love me because I was good. I was good because you loved me.” 

Breath escaped you, eyes glossy as you let those beautiful words sink in, but he wasn’t done.

“I thought it was just a lucky break that I got you for four years. And of course I fucked it up, I fuck everything up. After those tryouts, I had nothing, no one. I failed my classes, dropped out of rushing a frat, I stopped talking to everyone. Shit, even my sisters were calling me to see if I was okay. I got it together eventually, kind of, but it’s never been the same. I have never been the same…since you. But then I saw you on the beach the other day, and it kind of hit me. The biggest loss wasn’t your love for me, or my fielding skills, or the bullshit frat parties. It was my best friend. You were my best friend. You were - you are - my favorite fucking person. When all that shit happened, you were the only one I wanted to talk to, and I couldn’t, I didn’t deserve to. But god, I’d give anything, anything, to have my best friend back. You don’t have to…be with me. I understand if you don’t want to. But please, can we just be friends again?”

You blinked up at him as he finished his monologue, all his words swirling around your head like cartoon birds, dizzying and all consuming. You wished it really was a test, cause then you’d have a printed copy that you could study and analyze and go over and over with different colored highlighters.

But it wasn’t a test. It wasn’t a metaphor. It was just you and the boy you love standing on the beach at sunrise, looking at each other like you were the only two people on earth.

“No.” You said, shaking your head.

His eyes blinked rapidly, trying and failing to hold back his emotion. Before he could spiral any further, you added,

“I don’t wanna be friends.”

His eyes flicked over yours for just a second, double checking, asking you silently if that meant what he thought it did. You gave him the slightest nod, as if to finally say “yes, Rafe.”

Rafe’s hands landed firm but gentle on either side of your face, pulling you towards him. Your lips met in a symphony of passion and affection and need and a mutual sigh of fucking finally.

He tasted better than you’d ever imagined, a sweet rush to your head as his tongue parted your lips slightly. He pulled back just an inch to let his uncontrollable smile break against yours, laughing into each other’s mouths in disbelief and pure, unadulterated joy. Once he was satisfied that you understood how happy he was, he pulled you back in. 

If the first kiss was a spark, the second kiss was a goddamn explosion. He kissed you like the tide kisses the shore in a hurricane, his tsunami waves crashing into you over and over again. His tongue took over, claiming you, taking up space in your mouth like he never planned to leave. His hands drifted, one to the back of your head, laced in your hair, the other on the small of your back, holding you against himself. Your hands snaked up his arms, savoring every inch of him until you reached his shoulders. You linked your arms around his neck, pulling him down to you as you stood on your tiptoes to meet him, finding middle ground for the first time in your lives.

After a while, your lips parted, both of you desperate for breath, the lack of oxygen dizzying.

“So,” he smiled, hand still cradling your head and his thumb sweeping over your bottom lip, “did I pass?”

“Hmm,” you pretended to consider it, “A minus.”

“What? You must be grading on a curve,” he shook his head.

“Maybe you could do some extra credit,” you flirted.

With a sly smile at that, he returned his lips to yours, and you forgot a time when you didn’t know what it was like to kiss him.

Time passed, the sun rose, night bloomed into morning, and Rafe kissed you for what could’ve been a lifetime. With each minute that passed with his lips on yours, you felt all the bad memories fade to gray, the past washing away with the crash of the waves, leaving only him. 

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

Carter’s Jeep sat parked on the side of the road, the interior dark in the early morning light, except for the phones buzzing uncontrollably on each seat.

On the passenger's side, Rafe’s phone blew up with texts from Topper. The most recent reading ‘dude, we’ve got trouble at the house…’

On the driver’s seat, yours lit up with twelve missed calls and a single text from Carter,

‘Don’t come back.’

(chapter 8: part one)

a/n: please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕

[poguehearted77]

Just Another Cliché

Summary: Rafe has been asking to take you out for years and you always shoot him down, but after a particularly bad day, you decide things can't get much worse.

<<Here's some fluffy angst for those who need it>>

Shitty was an understatement for the day you had. This day will go down in history as the worst day any soul has ever lived through.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." The murmur is bitter on your tongue as you stuff your hands deeper into your warm pockets. The breath of your words were visible in the crisp winter air as you were about to pass by Rafe Cameron who waited patiently outside of your apartment building with a single rose just like he always did.

Since your senior year of high school, every year on the fourteenth of February, he would wait outside your complex, asking you out, then you say no, then he goes home. That's the tradition.

Well, technically you never said no. You'd always make up some excuse. 'I don't have time for a relationship right now' or 'Now's a bad time' are just a few of the examples you've used over the last five years.

It's not that there was anything wrong with him. You actually did find him attractive. Aside from the sketchy reputation he had going for him back in high school, he was still a relatively nice guy.

You just didn't have the time for a relationship, or at least you didn't before.

A small smile forms on his face as he sees you, already knowing what to expect. Another excuse like "Fine," yup, just as he thought- Wait.

"Say that again?" His head shakes in disbelief, blue eyes bulging slightly. Your shoulders shrug under your heavy-duty winter jacket. "My car was towed, then I lost my job, so why not lose my dignity too? Let's go out." You say and his heart begins to bounce off the confines of his ribs.

Not sure if it was the frosty air nipping at his cheeks or his lifetime wish finally unwrapping before his eyes, his cheeks flushed and he blinked a few times. "You won't regret this, I promise." he holds out the rose for you to take, and you finally do. For the first time in five years. You bite back a scoff, not in the mood for empty promises.

"Why haven't you given up yet?" You ask and now he places his hands in his pockets as a chilling breeze sweeps past you. He's rocking back on his heels slightly, "Life's too short to give up." The tiny smile on his face does make you scoff this time but he moves past it, "I'll text you later," is the last thing he says before he walks off.

You look down at the rose, then at his shrinking figure as he heads for the distance. A little pep in his step and you shook your head, immediately regretting your decision.

Great, this is exactly what you needed, another cliché.

-

Just another cliché is exactly what it was. On the lowest day of your life, you finally gave Rafe a chance. Of course, he changes your life in ways you couldn't imagine and leaves you with a dead weight of regret for not giving in sooner.

Your first date wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but it was fun. The two of you were inexperienced skaters failing to skate in the middle of the town square during the heart of winter. With festive lights outlining the rink where you laughed every time one of you fell.

There was even a point in time when you'd both embraced the cold connection with the ice floor and had a deep conversation on the sidelines, watching the other skaters circle the rink.

"Why me?" The question slips out before you can catch it and he licks his lips. He anticipated the query would arise eventually. "You remember that party Hailey Vanderbilt threw back in senior year?"

You hum with a nod, that was a party you'll never forget. Pool toys ended up in the trees, broken windows, jello in the hot tub, fights in the front yard and gambling in the back. "You and a few of the girls were playing truth or dare and they had dared you to start a rumour that I'd shaved my head because my family had joined some cult or some shit."

It took you a second, but the memory came back to you. "You don't know this, but I was fucking wasted behind the couch, but I'll never forget the way you stood up for me to them and refused to do it, and I dunno, I jus' think that was really cool of you." His head turns to you, his gaze softening when he looks at you.

At that moment, you felt the butterflies flap around in your stomach for the first time. He clears his throat, expression becoming more sombre as he continues. "My mom," He starts, taking a difficult swallow to get the words out.

"She was really sick. I got caught up with the wrong crowd to deal with it. Doing anything people said would get me distracted, even for a little, but she got worse and me being high every day didn't help so I quit. Her chemo was taking everything from her and eventually, she just shaved it off, she hated looking in the mirror and it killed me."

Your chest tightened at the story, having a sneaking suspicion of where this was going, "So when you shaved your head..." You trail off and Rafe nods along, turning away from you as a stray tear falls. "It was for her. You sticking up for me meant so much more than you know."

So there you both sat, on the ice with your backs against the wall in silence while the faint Christmas music chimed in the background. The date had taken a sad turn but you're glad it did, it sparked the beginning of your forever-evolving bond.

That was only the first date of many. Dozens and dozens of dates had flown past you and with each one you hated yourself a little more for letting him stand outside of your complex for five years rather than invite him inside.

"This is a nice place." He compliments as he takes a look around before settling himself on the couch with you beside him. "Thanks, it used to be a lot nicer when I could afford it. Had to sell some stuff to keep it after I lost my job."

He chuckles, "That explains why we're facing a blank wall and no television." and you pinch him. "Sacrifices had to be made. Who needs a TV anyways when there's so many other things we could do to keep ourselves busy." Your wandering hand gently runs down his firm thigh and you can feel the muscles in his leg tighten.

This was unchartered territory for you. You'd been dating for almost three months now and have never been intimate in that way, but Rafe knew the kind of person you were. A perfectionist, you need to be sure of everything before you try it.

Based on how fervently you were currently kissing along the length of his neck he could assume he had a pretty good idea of where your head was at. "Baby, baby--" He struggles to keep you at bay so he can lock eyes with you. "Are you sure about this? We don't have-" You silence him with the passionate attack of your lips against his.

Nearly tackling him onto his back, your hips straddling his as you demonstrated your certainty to him.

-

The months went on and sleepovers became more frequent. Even when Rafe had that tired look in his eye which was more often these days, you kept him up with your bright eyes and wide smile as you explained to him the newest conspiracy that intrigued you.

He tried his best to listen to what you were saying but he'd often lose himself in the labyrinth of his own mind. You were just so cute when you were talking about what you were passionate about. Especially when you wore the glasses you cursed so much, opting for contacts during the day.

"Why don't you wear your glasses more often?" He asks and you frown, "Rafee, did you hear anything I just said?" He nods, "Of course I did. I heard every last word.... up until about five minutes ago." You whine and he hugs you tight as an apology, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead.

You couldn't stay mad at him. That was proven time and time again when even your biggest fights would be resolved within 24 hours. Rafe insisted on talking things out, no matter how hurt the both of you may feel. He never wanted to go to sleep without making things right. "Life's too short," He would say.

You both had your shortcomings, but that goes without saying. Rafe was short-tempered and you were stubborn, a bad combination for an opinionated conversation. Things can quickly spiral out of control but when it came to apologies, Rafe outdid you every time. Flowers, or a small gift to show his feelings.

Even now, as Rafe leant against your kitchen island as you transferred the flowers he'd gifted you 'just because'. A weak smile graced his lips as he noted the way you did everything with such intensity, putting your all into everything you did.

Leaning forward onto his crossed forearms he watches you. "You're staring, babe." You say and he can only hum. "Can't help it. I like what I see," His words elicit a soft warmth to radiate in your chest.

"I love you, y'know that?" You're startled as you feel his arms wrapping around your waist from behind. "You tell me only every day, Rafe." He comes down to peck your cheek before you're rotating in his hold to face him. "But I love you too." You're unable to contain your smile as you say it.

It wasn't the first time but every time the words left your mouth, it gave you a little bubbly feeling. Security blossomed within you anytime your eyes grazed over his features.

"Let's go out tonight, yeah? Let's go dancing." Rafe declares without thinking and you laugh, tilting your head to look at the time over the stove. "It's almost midnight, nothing's open at this hour." You reason, but he doesn't back down.

Holding you by the hand, he twirls you. "Not a problem, we'll just do it here." That night your apartment was filled with laughter and soft jazz. Rafe hardly ever had this much energy so late but you loved it.

Two days after that night of dancing, you woke up to an eerie silence that felt too heavy for the morning. You went about your routine, still buoyed by the memory of Rafe's laughter filling your apartment. You checked your phone—just the usual notifications, a missed call from an unknown number, and a message from Sarah that simply said, "Call me."

You barely had time to press dial before she picked up, her voice trembling. She tried to speak, but only the sound of soft, choked sobs came through. Finally, she managed, "I’m so sorry…"

The words hit you, but you didn’t understand them. You wanted her to stop, to say something else—anything else. She kept speaking, her words blurred and distant, as though you were underwater, drowning. Somewhere in her explanation, you heard the words, "peacefully… in his sleep." But it didn’t feel peaceful. Your mind raced, demanding answers. Why hadn’t he told you? How long had he known?

Over the days that followed, Rafe's family gently filled in the pieces: he’d been sick for years, silently enduring, doing everything he could to hide it. Every date, every moment spent laughing with you, was a deliberate choice he made to live his last days fully, in love and joy, with you.

He hadn’t wanted you to know because he couldn't bear to see you suffer for him the same way he was once familiar with in his senior year. Even in the end, he kept the truth locked away, shielding you from the loss he knew was coming.

The weight of his choice tore you apart. You wanted to be angry, to hate him for leaving you out, but in his silence, there was also a strange kind of love. A love that had given you a few precious, unburdened moments together. Still, the pain settled deep within you, refusing to ease.

The anger, hurt, and ache became constant companions in the days that followed. But in his absence, you began to understand just how much he’d given for you.

He'd shared with you how hard it was for him to deal with that eerie state of loss. The stage where the person isn't gone but you know you'll lose them. It alters you in a messed up kind of way and he wanted you as far from that reality as possible. He was protecting you from his own condition till the very end.

Helping his family to clear out his apartment was easily the hardest thing you'd ever done. You couldn't do it without tearing up with every belonging of his you touched.

His favourite hoodie that he never let you wear but loved when you did. The polaroids in his drawer that you took from your first date, taken from the floor of the ice rink.

You noticed he'd scribbled writing on the back of the photo.

She finally said yes.

That was all it took. The last bits of your composure were stolen from you and you wept on his bedroom floor. Everyone always told you it would get easier but it never did. How could things get easier when the other half of your heart was buried six feet below the ground?

You learned to live with the loss, forcing a smile when in the company of others and taking deep breaths every morning when you woke up. Mildly disappointed the realm beyond the living hadn't reaped you during your slumber.

Very slowly, you begin to adjust to this new reality. It’s not the life you imagined, but you learn to live with the loss, carrying him with you in the smallest, most tender ways. His favourite hoodie becomes your comfort on cold nights, wrapping you in his memory and his scent.

Just because he was gone doesn't mean you'd end all of your traditions. Each year on the fourteenth of February, you visit his grave, placing a single red rose on the stone as a quiet tribute.

Though the ache remains, you hold his spirit close, carrying him forward into every milestone and memory yet to come, honouring the love you shared while finding the strength to continue onward.

In some ways, your love story turned out to be just another cliché—until it ripped your heart out from your chest, leaving you with the unbearable ache of everything he left unsaid, every unfulfilled promise, and the haunting silence of a future that will always belong to him.

Somehow, even in the quietest, most heart-wrenching moments, you never gave up on finding the silver lining, because life’s too short.

[inkedbybarnes]

unclear

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: everyone thinks you're dating bucky, except yourself.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: 18+ minors dni. miscommunication (i love this trope, sue me), angst with a happy fluffy ending, quite stubborn reader, implied smut if you squint, usage of petnames such as baby and doll. lowercase for basically everything.

i haven't finished anything in decades, but i suddenly had an idea just now and decided to write it down. surprisingly, i finished it? might have a lot of mistakes and such since i haven't proofread it yet. also, sorry for using lowercase for this, i kinda like how it looks. hope you enjoy this one!

dividers by @cafekitsune!

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“you're confusing me. so... you're not dating bucky?”

wanda tilted her head, confusion etched on her face as you spent your weekly girl's night with natasha. it usually consisted of eating food you all desired, drinking until you got wasted, and spilling secrets to one another.

although tonight, you weren't sure if you had any secrets to spill.

"as far as i know, no. we're just friends, teammates. nothing else," you answered with a heavy sigh. "can we talk about something else?"

"hold your horses, young lady! we are not skipping this topic again. you obviously want a label but he isn't giving you one!" wanda protested. she has been constantly asking about you and bucky's relationship for the past weeks, and you always had the same answer. you don't know.

"have you never talked about it with bucky? he looks at you like you'd get lost if he looks away for a second. not a single soul in the tower would think that you're just friends," natasha interjected, taking another sip from the bottle of beer she held. she had a point, as always. "if he's just playing with you, which i highly doubt for barnes, then just end whatever that is. you deserve better than having doubts and confusion, babe."

you've tried asking him multiple times, but every attempt felt like you were stepping on his boundaries. after years of being controlled by hydra, you knew it was possible that he'd hate the feeling of being rushed and entering a relationship that could potentially feel like a cage to him.

but natasha was right. your "relationship" was no longer anything friendly. he sleeps in your bed, claiming he slept better in it, and wakes up beside you to shower you with kisses. none of you even tried to hide it after some time. you always cooked your meals and ate them together, casually feeding one another and stealing kisses in between. you even stopped going on dates and you had no idea if you were exclusive. you deserved to know what your relationship with bucky was, but you were too scared to lose everything once you asked.

"we're not dating. i only see him as a friend, so you can both stop worrying about me." you lied through your teeth, your chest aching as you realised how stupid this was. you sighed and faked a smile, shifting the attention to natasha. "so, tell me about your date with steve! how was the first ever date of captain america since the 40s?"

wanda was distracted by the question, immediately bombarding the now blushing widow with questions. on the other hand, your mind flew away for a minute, finally deciding to get an answer from bucky.

the annual ball that tony stark held for, well, nearly anyone, was nearing. you only had two weeks left, and you haven't even gone out to find something to wear. it was hard to find any motivation to do all that effort when the person you've been waiting to ask you as his date hasn't asked you yet.

although, bucky had a tendency to get shy and hold back. you knew that. so here you were, standing behind the doors to the gym, knowing that bucky would be training at this hour. you still haven't asked him the question you were supposed to ask him, so you decided to do it all at once.

after you've finished your small pep talk, you opened the door to enter the room and your first instinct was to search for bucky.

considering that he was a huge chunk of a man, he was easy to find. however, the sight of him standing in front of a woman that was too close for your comfort wasn't delightful.

he didn't see you entering the room since he was facing the opposite direction, conversing with the agent that happened to be training as well. she had the sweetest and flirtiest smile on her face, bringing her hand up to his arm, slowly caressing it. you didn't mean to easily hear their conversation as you walked closer.

"so, do you happen to have someone for me to have as a date for the ball? i don't want to be lonely on that night, sergeant," the agent said with an extra pout, swaying her hips side to side like a child asking for candy.

"oh, yeah? i think i have someone for you," bucky replied, breaking your heart into pieces with how enthusiastic he was with his answer. "i'm sure you'll—"

you sniffed. unconsciously. not knowing that your tears were already falling, causing your nose to get stuffy. how pathetic, you thought.

your little sniff caught the attention of both the agent and bucky, looking at you in shock. although, the girl was more pleasantly surprised than the opposite. thankfully, you already had your tears wiped before they could see them.

"oh, we didn't see you there!" she greeted you with your name. "we were just talking about our date for this year's ball. who are you bringing?"

"i haven't decided yet, no one's worth it even if i try," you answered bitterly. "so you're going together?"

before bucky could answer, the agent already had her arm wrapped around his, happily smiling at your question. "yeah! amazing, right? i actually thought you two had a thing, but i guess not. glad things worked out in the end."

and that was your last straw. "well, enjoy yourselves. i have to go and find natasha."

you turned to leave, ignoring the loud calls of bucky. you were glad that you never asked him about your relationship and the ball. you were going to be hurt either way.

you spent the next hours stuck in your room, body covered with a thick sheet as you ranted about your frustrations to friday.

it was silly, you knew that, but you refused to call natasha and wanda to remind you of your stupidity and decided to let an ai robot listen to your problems instead.

"and he even flirted back! answering coyly like a teenager. he's 107 years old, fri!" you whined, not noticing the new nickname you've given the alternative intelligence. "ugh, now i have a broken heart and no date in sight. how did it get to this?"

"perhaps you must discuss this matter with sergeant barnes first. your conversation ended quite abruptly with no clear conclusion."

"no, i don't want the truth rubbed on my face," you said, grabbing another piece of tissue to sneeze in. "you restricted him from entering my room, right?"

friday answered with a yes, then you thanked her for listening and decided to get some sleep after tirelessly crying for hours. you knew you had a team meeting with the avengers in a bit, but you couldn't bring yourself to even walk a few steps.

your sleep ended and you were woken up with friday's reminder that it was time for dinner with the team.

with a groan, you pushed yourself off your bed. bucky would be there, but you were too hungry to care. it would be awkward, of course, but you had to face him at some point anyway.

your feet padded towards the door, opening it after trying your hair in a bun.

"ah, fuck."

you jumped at the voice and the body falling to the floor as you opened the door.

"bucky?" you asked, still in shock. "were you sleeping outside of my room?"

you watched bucky stand up, his hand massaging his aching nape as he looked for your eyes. "friday won't let me in. i waited outside instead. i guess i fell asleep during that," he explained, a frown forming on his face. "did you restrict me from entering our room?"

your eyes widened at his choice of words. our room. he considered your room to be his room as well. while that would've made you melt in an instant, you were still hurt to entertain that possibility.

"this is my room, barnes. not yours, not ours. and yes, i had you restricted because i couldn't face you yet. what do you need anyway?"

"i wanted to see you, talk to you." a flash of pain crossed his eyes. "whatever happened at the gym, it's—"

"bucky, you don't have to explain anything to me. we're just friends. it's my fault i assumed we were something. i just need some time to get over it."

"but i thought we were something as well..." he replied, his voice was almost as quiet as a whisper. "i thought we were dating."

"were we?" you asked, genuinely curious. "we never.. you never said anything. i mean, yeah, i wished it meant something, but i thought you wouldn't want to be trapped in a relationship with me, so i just waited. apparently, i was right and i can't blame you for that."

"right about what? the thing that happened in the gym this morning?" he asked. you nodded in response. "i know it sounds like i was flirting back, well i didn't know at the moment, until i asked steve who was clueless but he called nat to help me out and explained that it looked like i was flirting back. i wasn't. i was just going to suggest sam as a date for her. i would never agree to anyone."

oh. so he just wasn't interested in anyone at all.

"besides this one girl who's constantly been in my head. that's if she'd even give me a chance and say yes. i fucked it up badly before i could even ask her properly."

you knew what hoping got you, but you couldn't help but think that he was talking about you. he'd have to be clueless to say all those things in front of you only for it to be someone else.

"i love you, baby. i should've told you that, i should've made it clear sooner. i'm so sorry i let you have doubts when i could've been reassuring you about what i feel for you."

"bucky..."

"i would never feel trapped with you, doll. only you made me feel so much love and freedom. i'd be a fool to let go of that. i'm sorry it took a few hits and harsh words from natasha to make me realise that i wasn't giving you enough when you deserve everything." he held your face in his hands, bringing you closer to him. you felt breathless, tears threatening to fall but this time it was out of joy. "hydra made sure i had no voice to express myself. now, i'll use it to let you know that i love you so fucking much that it hurts when you're not around. i promise to work on it. if anything like this happens again, ask me, baby. demand things from me. i'll give you everything in a heartbeat."

"even if i ask for your arm?"

he laughed, a sound that was music to your ears. "it's yours baby. although, i do like fucking you with my metal—"

"bucky!" you scolded him, hitting him lightly on the chest.

"sorry, baby. couldn't help it. missed my girl so much."

his girl. you loved hearing that.

"it's only been a few hours. don't be silly," you reminded him, but you knew you also felt the same.

"i miss you even when i don't see you for a second." you couldn't help but laugh at his words. "something funny, doll?"

"sorry, natasha said something similar about you a few days ago," you answered. "i'm sorry for assuming so quickly, bucky. you deserved the chance to explain."

"and you did let me explain. i can't blame you for assuming and getting hurt when i never gave you the confirmation to believe otherwise. don't apologise for it, baby."

"i love you," you said, causing him to grin widely.

"yeah? you love me too?" he asked, a hint of pink tinting his cheeks. "this is official now, right? we're dating?"

you nodded happily, giggling as he landed a kiss to your mouth. "so, you wanna go to the ball with me?"

he kissed you again. "don't. i'm supposed to be asking you that. i had an entire thing prepared for you, i even dragged half of the team to help me out days ago. besides wanda and natasha, of course. couldn't let them tell you about it."

your heart swelled, he was already planning to ask you before all of this misunderstanding happened, and it could've been solved with communication. lesson learned, indeed.

"well hurry because i can't wait to say yes," you playfully threatened him, kissing the tip of his nose until the loud rumble of your stomach interrupted your sweet moment. "ah, right. i was on my way to eat dinner when i opened the door."

bucky laughed, his eyes twinkling witth adoration as he kept his eyes on you. "we can't have you starving, that's for sure. come, let's get you something." he held your hand, and dragged you to the kitchen. he turned to look at you with a playful smile. "wanna cook together like the old times?"

you smiled. "like the old times."

in the middle of your cooking session, you heard whistles and claps along with the footsteps that entered the kitchen. you both turned to find the rest of the team with shit eating grins.

"finally! so is this real or do we need to smack your heads?" tony asked, his hand placed on his hip.

"it's always been real, stark," bucky answered, wrapping his arm around your waist. "except this time, i'm making sure my entire world knows it."

"i think everybody knows you have a thing for each other, barnes." clint added.

"i meant my entire world, not everybody." bucky looked at you with awe. "she's my world."

bucky's answer gained various loud reactions from the team, mostly calling him a cheesy old man and fake gags, but there you were, cheeks heating up as you looked back at him with the same amount of love, if not more.

and he did ask you to be his date to the ball the day after, surprising you with his so-called secret plan.

a year later, he surprised you with a ring as he knelt on one knee.

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

[readwritealldayallnight]

You haven’t noticed him yet.

Lost in the words printed on the pages, you haven’t glanced up from your book since Simon stepped out of the shower, peeking at your figure through the window panes.

You’re out on the small, cramped balcony of your shared London flat, curled into yourself to squeeze all your limbs as comfortably as you can onto the wicker chair.

The half empty cup of tea sitting on the small side table next to you is no longer as warm as it was when you first brought it out. Without a second thought, Simon goes to warm up the kettle again, not wanting you to get cold.

He frowns as your fingers quickly catch the edge of your book before the wind can flip your current page away, your hair being blown away from your face. He spots the tiny shiver that goes through you and decides he’ll bring out a throw blanket for you as well. Maybe one of his hoodies.

You’d teased him about something like this the other day, after he’d finished tucking your chair in at a local cafe. Saying that his love language was sooo obviously acts of service.

He’d playfully rolled his eyes, joking about how yours must be to never stop talking, chuckling at the half hearted kick he received underneath the table, before you explained that that wasn’t what love languages are.

Simon wasn’t so sure about that whole idea. All he knew was that he liked taking care of you, just as you took care of him. Simple as that.

He knows he always feels lighter after you send him a thankful smile any time he carries your bag for you or opens your door.

He knows you can’t stop smiling for at least a minute any time you swipe an eyelash off his cheek, carefully holding it in front of his lips so he can blow it away and ‘make a wish’.

He knows his chest always swells with pride any time you compliment his cooking, whether he attempted a dish on his own or simply added a seasoning to something you were already making.

He knows all the tension disappears from your shoulders when you’re sat in his lap, gently wiping away his black face paint from around his eyes, taking extra care around his delicate skin, humming a soft little melody for the both of you to hear.

He knows there isn’t anything in this entire god forsaken earth that makes him happier, than making you happy.

That’s why he’s been secretly looking into a new place for the two of you. This tiny shoebox of a flat had been fine when it was just him crashing here a handful of times a year between missions. When you got together and began spending more time sleeping here than at your own place, it only made sense to move in once your lease was up.

But now your books are piled in stacks along the baseboards, the closet can barely contain your clothes mixed in together, and the sight of you sitting out on that cramped balcony just doesn’t sit right with him.

He wants to give you a proper place, a home. He wants to be able to give you an actual yard with room to sprawl out and grow a garden if you want, or just lay out a picnic blanket and read until the sun sets.

He wants to hear you nag him about mowing the lawn, or raking the leaves, or shovelling the driveway. He wants to run out into a sudden summer storm with you to quickly pull off the laundry that had been drying on the clothes line, laughing the entire time.

As though sensing his gaze on you, you slowly lift your head, a chuckle slipping past his lips as your eyes immediately light up with excitement, a sweet smile gracing your lips as you send him a wave.

He lifts his hand, waggling his fingers back at you, the same corny grin on his face, knowing that there isn’t a thing in the world he wouldn’t do for you.

[roturo]

₊˚ෆ FALSE GOD

warnings: masturbation, sex, smut, porn with no plot, unprocteted sex, overstimulation, use of toys, cunnilingus, mentions of low/high sex drive, dom/sub dynamics, shaming, humilliation, blue balls, edging, corruption kink, mentions of somnophilia, and twitter links. (Gojo, Geto & Nanami)

author's note: this is not a goodbye, but take it as a see you soon writing.

part 2 (coming soon if it’s well received)

gojo satoru

He's been annoying you the whole morning while trying to coach the kids on their training– slapping his hand away everytime it lowers down from your lower back and giving him a glaring look.

Both of you talked about this. Not letting his high sex drive come across work, and mostly in front of his students.He looked like a lost puppy, searching for attention and someone to relieve his needs.

“Gojo. Stop it–” You pushed his hand away from you, looking back to see if someone else noticed what’s going on. “But I can’t princess, I need you right now~” He whined in your ear, he was about to throw a tantrum if you continued neglecting him this way. It’s been two weeks without sex, can you believe it? Two weeks! He prefers fighting Mahito’s annoying ass again on his own rather than pass one day without inside you.

“It’s not the time right now– and I'm not in the mood either.”

Okay. First of all he knew you weren’t too into sex, and he accepted it! He respected your boundaries, and he didn’t only want you for the sex, he loved you for who you are! But the way you said his last name instead of his first name, and looking like you were about to slap him turned him on even more.

He wouldn’t stop whining and throwing tantrums for your touch, opting for dismissing the class early so they could go to sleep or wherever, it’s weekend anyways. 

Both of you sat in silence in his office. Waiting for someone to break the tense silence thanks to him— and he was about to do it, but the moment your mouth opened his mind got in control of your sweet voice.

“Get up and take your pants off. Briefs too-” His eyes light up like a kid when receiving a lollipop for behaving like a good boy he is. He took off his shirt too, feeling like it was drowning him and taking the air out of him because this was the first time you were really taking control over all this.

“Sit.” He did as you said, his cock proudly standing tall and full of cum to dump wherever you wanted him too. But he wasn’t too lucky this time, because the moment you stepped closer to him and his desk, searching for one of his blindfolds he usually leaves there– you kneeled down infront of his, massaging his hard balls that made him moan out loud– taking them in one hand, they were heavy. His blindfold was around them, in a knot– tighten them. 

The moment you started jerking off he knew he wouldn’t come as easy as he would. It was wet, really wet– and all thanks to his pre-cum leaving his cock, he was begging for release, he couldn’t come, literally and physically. It was impeding him from cumming, it felt ten times worse than not having your touch– He had it now, but at what cost?

“Aw, look at those blue balls!” You laughed in front of him and slightly slapped the red swollen head of his cock– he was crying, he never did. But it felt so good but it hurt so much at the same time.  You took off the blindfold, cum coming out like a big wave, wetting his abdomen, part of his chest and your neck too. His moan almost sounded like a scream, cries and nervous laughs coming out of him– He came but you continued jerking him off, this time overstimulating him instead of edging him– He doesn’t know what was worse. Coherent words were long lost, babbling out trying to stop himself but he couldn’t move himself, way too lost in the pleasure to be able to stop you.

“Let’s see if you can atleast last a week without acting like a fucking horny virgin bitch this time mhm?, let’s make you cum again just to make sure, yeah?”

geto suguru

Geto is a morning wood guy. And he knows you have a low libido, actually Suguru is the only one you’ve sex with. 

“I’m scared of dicks ´guru” You whispered, kneeled down in front of him, you were at his dorm, it was 11 P.M and you decided to lose your virginity to Geto assuring he’s the one and you’ve never felt safe in someone else’s arms– he chuckled and looked at you with loving eyes– one of his hands caressed your cheek, “How are you going to be afraid of dicks and want to suck me off at the same time princess? Mhm?”

He laughed at himself at the memory, now you were 6 years together and he’s eager to know how your life is going to be with him, having a wedding, getting a house together, making you pregnant… full of him, shit. This is not helping with the main problem right now.

He’s a decent man. At least that’s what he thinks about himself– he’s not horny all the time like Satoru. Maybe that’s his form of love language? Satoru is a weird ass anyways– he thinks to himself while scrunching his eyebrows together, –stop thinking about him Suguru!, it’s going to make you puke instead of helping the problem… He was looking at the ceiling of your room while you’re sleeping right beside him. He doesn’t want to wake you up, you deserve to have a nice and comfortable sleep.

But the pain down there is not going anywhere, not even with a cold shower. He knows to identify his morning woods– living with them for his whole life, I guess. Unconsciously one of his hands is now touching himself through his boxers making him moan, his free hand quickly covering his mouth and looking to his side to find you still sleeping.   

He swears he’s about to slap himself to stop this and suck it up, but he feels your hand stopping him. “Are you okay baby?, I heard something and I thought you hurt yourself or something.”

Oh my god… How could you be so… pure? So perfect for him, always making sure he’s okay, your sleepy voice sounding deeper than your normal voice… His shirt is way too big for you that he swears if he moves his head a little higher he could see your nipples. Shit Suguru, you turned it sexual again!

Should he just… ask you? beg you? beg and cry for some release? Would he sound as horny as a teenager? This problem should be for teenagers! Not for a grown ass man like him!

“Um… I might just had a little problem down there”

“Might? Little?”

His flushed face was cute, his body was fully uncovered by the blankets, leaving him with his chest exposed and a clear wet patch on his boxers.

“C’mon baby, let me help you” He called out your name, trying to stop you the moment you placed your hand on the elastic of his underwear— in one swift motion you freed his cock, catching a glance of how swollen it was due the negligence of the past weeks. 

The moment Suguru felt the cold breeze on him, he came.

He fucking came with no touch.

Damn embarrassing.

“Aw, cute. Want me to suck you off?”

nanami kento

You haven’t rushed things with Nanami yet. Both of you were such a cute couple that made people gag. 

He’s amazing, not like any other boys you have met before, he treated you nice, spoiled you and mostly respected you– in a world of boys, he’s a gentleman. 

He’s such a hard working guy, such an inspiration, so committed to both of his works that you tell him if you ever get married you’ll be the best housewife he could ever have because he deserves it.

But one thing about Nanami is that he keeps things to himself. Just like the boner he has right now by imagining you being his little housewife. He really needs to leave this office right now and relieve some… stress.

The last weeks have been hard for him, naturally affecting your relationship with him. He was always tired, even more earnest and quiet. You know he’s bad at telling what he feels, and he’s always stressed by something– but you have never seen him like this. Like ever.

When he tries to distress himself he just keeps failing over and over again, not being enough and having to suck it up and continue his day with a hard poking erection most likely visible in his pants. That’s why he remains seated most of the time.

But one day he went to your house after work. It was impossible to not notice his erection even when he’s trying to hide with his briefcase or on the sofa. 

“Take your pants off Kento.” You’re not a big fan of sex, Nanami knows that, he hasn’t even had sex with you before! So this caught him by surprise, the red on his cheeks spanding through his neck.

“E-excuse me? I’m sorry, what honey?” 

“You heard me, take your pants off.” He’s seated on your sofa– unloosened tie, two or three bottoms of his shirt undone, messy hair, in his socks but that damn thing was literally capable of breaking his pants if it didn’t have some release.

He slowly started unbuckling his pants, losing his mental battle and accepting what he needed, and if you were willing to do it, all he could do is take it– but dear god, it was even worse.

All you would do is touch him. Through his briefs. Just the feeling of your fingers through them. Touching the tip was the worst part.

And he couldn’t believe that the most simple touch is capable of making him cum with just your fingers than him raming and jerking off the hardest he has ever tried.