#we have reservations for some of the harder-to-get-into things too

[cutehoons02]

PRINCESS YOU ARE MINE

* pairing: Heeseung x reader (grumpy x sunshine) (she fell first he fell harder)

* tags: fluffy,kiss,a little smut,misunderstandings

* synopsis: Heeseung couldn’t fall in love with her stylist and her stylist couldn’t fall in love with an idol but the heart doesn’t rule

* word count: 2k (Tell me if you like this kind of stories:)

© cutehoons02 all rights reserved 2024.

(English is not my native language)

Thunder rumbled through the apartment you shared with your college friends in Seoul and before you could close the windows a heavy rain came across Seoul you knew it was time to go to bed, and that your boyfriend, you could call a boyfriend a guy with whom you made a lot of video calls after his concerts, with whom you shared a good hot plate of ramen in the restaurant near Han riven, you wore secretly his sweatshirts at work with still imprinted his strong smell of freshly made laundry but with a note of spices; he would not show up at your house. Yes, you could define the word "boyfriend" but Heeseung had never called you his "girlfriend", and then with the life of Idol you were terrified that this was for Heeseung only a small infatuation with the shy stylist of Enhypen.

The flight from Japan had been delayed by the heavy thunderstorm that hit Korea in those days and Heeseung was eager to escape from that plane and sink into the hot blankets of Y/n which tasted like cinnamon and vanilla, the leader of the Enhypen laughed at seeing the older member so madly leaving the airport and Heeseung gave him a mean look <<You know i’m happy to see you finally in love with someone makes come out in you a Heeseung that i had never seen in my life, you look just like a baby deer just came out of the Disney when you talk or see Y/n, but try to pretend you care about the fans outside!">> "stop Jungwon, i’m not in love with Y/n. We’re just two people who like to spend time together when we are not busy between trips, concerts, events, or shooting." <<At my house this behavior is called "friendship" but we all know that you are not only friends, if one of the other members tried to hit on her you would explode with jealousy or if one of the other dancers who accompany us during the tours ask her out what would you do? And by the way, you deceived yourself because you said that you are not friends but two people who spend time together..>> Heeseung hated when his smaller members made him see the reality of things, and one in particular was Jungwon; many underestimated their friendship because they expected to see him as the leader of the group but he and Jungwon had developed a strong bond over time that was the first to notice Heeseung’s strong interest in Y/n.

Heeseung had just gotten out of the taxi and little drops of rain fell in his hair with a loud puff. It looked like it was almost one o'clock at night. Maybe it was late enough to play at Y/n’s apartment so he decided to throw some small stones in the window of Y/n looking out onto the street, was at the fifth pebble that he threw and was getting a little too wet for his taste until he saw the curly hair and the head of Y/ n sticking out of the window. He walked into the foyer of the apartment and to her great astonishment saw Y/n dressed in a jacket, with jeans a little soaked, and with hair a bit swollen because of the humidity.

<<Angel, what are you doing up at this hour? Don’t tell me you were waiting for your favorite member of the Enhypen like a princess waiting for her prince because we all know i can’t act like a prince when you’re around.>> A small laugh came out of the mouth of Y/n and showed Heeseung that he had in hand a small bag from the pharmacy. "Heeseung if i expected you as a prince at this time i would still be full of pain because of the menstruation, i'm awake because even with bad weather i went to get some medicines that ended up alleviating the pain in my stomach cramps, but you princes can’t understand the suffering we have in the early days and i wasn’t waiting for you, i have more to do than wait for an idol to come and visit me when he’s free" He didn't expect this statement because between the two was the one who preferred to listen and you were never angry with him so a little surprised, and maybe they were true all those times that he heard the other members say their sisters were hyenas while they had the red period.

The thunder was rumbling through the kitchen where Y/n was preparing a good hot tea for both her and Heeseung, she would never have expected to see him outside after a trip of almost 10 days in Japan, was grateful not to have gone with them because she was seriously tired after all the trips they had made during the summer and sometimes she even preferred to break away from Enhypen especially from Heeseung to go and be a stylist in other Hybe groups. Heard the steps of Heeseung entering the kitchen with dry hair and a little uncomplicated because of the hairdryer, With an oversized t-shirt and grey track pants that wrapped her nice long legs and not to mention her b side but Y/n turned around and went back to sip his tea and take his medicine. The kitchen in his apartment looked much smaller and warmer with Heeseung in front of him but he didn’t want to be overwhelmed by the little feelings he had for the boy who had his eyes like a deer.

Heeseung was eager to feel the touch Y/ n and at the same time saw how much force of will tried to make the girl with curly hair/wavy in front of him, so without thinking a moment took Y/n by the hand and brought her into his room and if he put it on his legs, the warm bed and the little cinnamon candle was the bridge between their world and the storm that was outside. <<Tell me what you want from me, i just came back from a hellish trip and every hour that i spent on the plane to get to Seoul I sang silently of happiness to see you but now i found you here with this look that you would want to kill me with your hands.>> Y/n felt pathetic because every time she saw Heeseung she needed to see him for a second, breathe his pungent scent that came from her skin, or even worse be drugged by his touch and his voice. "In these ten days you’ve been away I wouldn’t have expected to miss you, at first i thought you were only good at flirting with everyone especially me but then you showed up in my house with ramen to share, and for my bad luck after you started kissing me before a show with the fear and the thrill that they would find us; besides, you’re cruel because if they found out you wouldn’t have any repercussions because you are Lee Heeseung instead of any stylist who can fire at any moment."

Heeseung looked bad and a slight smirk formed in his lips <<Well if you were afraid that they would discover it was enough to tell me that you did not want to kiss me or could use these beautiful hands to push me away, but your problem is that you seem so good and sweet girl with everyone who loves having my dirty marks under your skirt or near your breast. Don’t pretend to be innocent with me because we both know you love the adrenaline that goes up while i kiss you with the people waiting to send you inside another member to change so they can show up in time to sing a new song.>>

Heeseung’s long fingers made their way under your sweatshirt and little chills hit your body <<No other boy can make you experience this princess, remember only i can hold you in my arms, at the same time adore you and give you what your body needs.>> one hand slid into your life and the other began to tease your right breast and a moan came out of your lips, you were seriously in need of more so he brushed you a little further down until you felt his length pressed between your legs. <<Princess fuck your breasts are so hard and firm that i’m afraid to hurt you but i can’t stop myself, tell me if you want it to continue>> Heeseung moved his hand from your waist to pull back some curly/waves that fell in your forehead to your ear and finally Heeseung felt your lips after more than 10 days in her ears, and to tease him you kissed him slowly and slowly bit his lower lip to hear him moaning. You wanted to be in control of the situation but by your misfortune you needed his touch so much and knew he couldn’t give you all himself, so Heeseung turned the situation around and put you between your pillows <<Where is the shy girl i met at work who tries so hard not to be seen watching me dance and sing, stop thinking you’re gonna control the situation, you only needed my fingers on your body to get you shivers who knows how you’ll react to all the things i’ll do to you when you don’t have your period, princess!>> You felt take off your pajamas and Heeseung looked at you with a look that you had never seen on his face, was adoration of your body but at the same time hunger, and surely you were not ready to know all the dirty visions he had of you. <<Tell me what you want or i can stay watching you all night long" you needed her lips from all over your body and pulled her fluffy hair to your thighs but she stopped to look at you with a grin.>> "Stop being a jerk like Hee, i need you to kiss me for everything and we know that even you can’t take my eyes off me" Little kisses mixed with bites made their way between your thighs and with great pleasure you heard the boy moaning with deer eyes while you pulled his black locks to limit your groans. <<Groan for me princess, make everyone feel who can only make you react with only me kissing you and leaving bites in your thighs>> Groans came out of your mouth until you felt the weight of Hee’s body in front of you and bent down to kiss your lips, He brought your body over his chest and little kisses made their way between your head and your head <<What goes in your tiny head Y/n, i see your gears spinning very strong right now!>> You took her glue as an antistress and a little grumble formed in Heeseung’s smile "What are we? in the sense that you say i'm yours, but what are you to me Hee, for me certainly you are not a friend and we are not even two people who find themselves spending time together because these things are done by friends” you lifted from his chest and his big arms strapped your hips <<Did you and Jungwon agree to drive me crazy today>> You watched him laughing and he stood to kiss your forehead <<I was yours from the first moment i saw you Y/n>>.

[sheliesshattered]

So it turns out I completely forgot to take any pictures of my last sewing project. Oops. In fairness, it's a gift for my mother, whose birthday is tomorrow, and I didn't want to post any pictures until after it had arrived at her house and been opened. But I still meant to take some pictures, if not of the process at least of the final product. It wasn't until I got home from mailing it that I realized I full on completely forgot to take any photos at all. Oh well. Maybe Mom can snap a picture or two for me since I flat out forgot. Pics of that if/when I actually have them, lol.

But I'm already into my next sewing project, and I've resolved not to make that same mistake again. Which, really, is nearly the same mistake as I made with my fleece dress last month, when I didn't take any pictures at all until all the major seams were sewn. After documenting so much of my sewing throughout 2023, I seem to have completely forgotten all about taking photos of my works-in-progress the last couple of months. I aim to get back on course with this project, though!

The project in question is a hooded wrap sort of thing, made from the black and gray brushed cotton herringbone that I got a bolt of on ebay a couple of weeks back. After washing the bolt, it looks to be about 43" wide and roughly eight and a half yards long. I want to make an overdress for my fleece dress out of it too, but I think this wrap project will only take up about a yard and a half, maybe two, so I should have plenty left for an overdress. And then I can wear the wrap and the overdress together, potentially.

But really the thing I'm sewing this for is my birthday, which is coming up in about seven weeks. I have somehow talked Jack into going to Disneyland and spending all day in the Star Wars Galaxy's Edge area so I can pilot the Millennium Falcon as many times as possible, and doing some original costuming "Batuu-bounding" while we're there, too. Because I am nothing if not a costume nerd, and my life-long love for Star Wars has recently been reignited, so what better way to spend my birthday than dressed up in one of the best examples of 360 degree set building that I've ever seen.

After combining a bunch of pieces from my closet and my costume boxes, I've come up with an outfit that I like the look of, for a general purpose Force-sensitive smuggler pilot: my every-day tall Doc Martens with wraps over them, leather-look leggings, the vest from my Moment cosplay, and various accessories from my pirate-core and Wasteland days. I may need a better shirt to go with it, but I'm hoping to hit up Goodwill at least once or twice between now and then and see what I can find. The final choice will depend on a bit on the weather that week, which in late February in southern California can be literally anything from the cusp of freezing to 80 degrees, sunny or rainy or windy or some combination of all of them. I won't really know until the weekend beforehand.

Besides a shirt, the last piece I really want to add is this hooded wrap, both for practicality -- warmth in the morning and the evening, and keeping the sun off my head at midday without messing up my hair too much -- and for just the drama of a big hood and drapey wrap. I based the hood pattern on the hooded Vuvalini jacket I made for Wasteland Weekend way back in 2016, but took it in a bit both in width and depth (since I'm not trying to catch the wind with this one, and won't be wearing a fluffy scarf with it).

Over the weekend I drafted a pattern and made a mock-up, but the mock-up is really kinda ugly, since I used left over fabric and made a part of it significantly smaller just to save on fabric, so it's one of those mock-ups where you have to squint and imagine what the final product will look like. Not going to bother taking pictures of that. But it did serve the purpose of clarifying some design elements and finalizing fit, so still worthwhile.

With the hood pattern drafted and tested, and measurements for the long wrap bits figured out, I went ahead and cut it out of the herringbone fabric. Here it is all cut out, three pieces for the hood and two pieces for the back:

I'm doing french seams on this project, both to combat the fabric's tendency to fray, and to keep all the inner seams looking pretty when the hood is down, etc. Tonight I sewed up the first set of seams on the center back of the wrap, and all three hood pieces (as modeled by my sewing ham):

Tomorrow I'll press those narrow seams flat, and then sew each of them again a bit further in to completely encase the raw edges (ie a classic french seam). Next step after that will be attaching the hood to the right angle formed by the wrap pieces coming together in the center back. I did this, with shorter and narrower pieces, in my mock-up, and it's a little bit fiddly but not too bad. I didn't french seam the mock-up though, so we'll see if that adds any headaches to this.

Once both stages of the neck seam are done and the hood is attached, the last step will be hemming! And it's a lot of hemming, lol. The shorter edges of the wrap (starting from the top of the center back, where it meets the hood) are each 48" long and 18" wide. I actually haven't measured the outer, longer edge, nor done the math to figure out what it must be given that the center back is cut on a 45 degree bias, but let's just say it's a lot of inches. And then there's the hood opening too, which was cut to have a generous drape. Many many inches of hemming, really probably better measured in yards.

I need to play around with a couple of options, see if I like the look of top stitching or if I want to do the whole thing by hand with invisible stitches, but right now my assumption is that I'll end up doing this by hand. I actually enjoy handsewing hems, so that's not the worst thing in the world, and I've got plenty of time to get this finished before I plan to wear it at the end of February. I do have at least one other sewing project I'd like to tackle for our Star Wars Batuu-bounding day, and I'd like to leave room for other things to come up at the last minute too, so I'm going to keep buzzing through this just as quickly as I can. More pictures tomorrow, in all likelihood.

After I call my mom of course, and wish her a happy birthday. And beg her for photos of that thing I made for her, lol.

[monstersflashlight]

Commission for @itsafullmoon

A/N: Thank you so much for commissioning! This turned a lot more funny than expected, the werewolf is basically a himbo and the events are very fast-paced. Hope you enjoy!

Request: I’d like to request a NSFW-longer story Werewolf x fem!human, werewolf saves her from what could’ve been a fatal fall/accident in the woods or….was that his secret plan all along😏 (stalking, future mate?) I love your writing and leave the rest up to your creative mind🫶

The spiral to insanity happens in a hole

Werewolf x fem!reader || induced heat, knotting, semi-public sex (cave), implied stalking

“Help! Help me!” You cried out.

A head appeared at the top of the hole you fell into. “Hello there, stranger. Seems like you are in a hole,” his words made you want to hit him with a rock. “Do you need some help?” Was this dude for real?

Not wanting to be mean to the stranger that could have your way out of the hole you sighed and told him: “Yes, please.”

He reached inside the hole with his long arm, and you reached up trying to grab it. Before you know what happened there was a big crash and the stranger was next to you in the hole/cave. “How did you fall, too?!” You accused. Now both of you were stuck in the hole. Fuck.

“Oops,” he giggled. He actually giggled. Who was this dude? You glared at him and he rose his hands in a calming motion. “No worries, I work as a keeper in the reserve and called my college when I heard you calling. They’ll come to get us soon enough.” That did calm you, and you sat down on a big rock and stared at him.

He was pretty in a rough way, like a lumberjack. He was big as a wardrobe and looked like he could break a tree if he wanted to. You were kinda okay with that, he looked good. In other circumstances, you would have hit on him. Probably. And well, being completely truthful, you would probably hit on him here, too. Your body was tingling just by looking at him, a strange sensation boiling inside of you.

He didn’t say anything else, and you didn’t either. You sat in silence as he paced up and down the little cave and you thought about all the dirty things you would let him do to you. At some point he stopped and looked at you. “We could do something to pass the time.” That made sense, but at that moment you wanted to do anything but to talk. He was handsome, and maybe you wanted to fuck him a little (understatement of the century), but definitely not in a hole in the forest.

“What do you suggest?”

And then he went and deadpanned: “We could make out.” You looked at him trying to decipher if he was being serious.

You were so surprised it took you a couple of seconds to respond. “Are you fucking insane? I don’t know you!” You didn’t want to say no, but it was fucking insane that he was asking you that, you didn’t know each other’s name.

This dude was completely crazy, 100%. You didn’t know how you found yourself in that situation, but there you were. In a hole, in the forest, with a crazy dude who wanted to make out. And what was more surprising: you were okay with that. The idea of making out with him wasn’t as bad as someone could think. You kinda wanted to say yes, but you also knew that was a bad idea.

“Well, we could know each other.” He proceeded to tell you everything that came to mind about himself as you looked at him astonished. Who the fuck was this guy and why did you find him so adorable? He kept talking and talking and his blush became more and more prominent as you stared. “I’m sorry, I’m gonna shut up now.” He went from weird to endearing very fast, your heart beating erratically inside your chest. You were charmed by that big fool.

“You are kind of adorable,” you blurted out. You covered your mouth instantly, you didn’t want that to escape.

“You think so?” He asked back, flushing harder. Cute.

“Yeah. I feel this…. This connection to you. I don’t understand why, I should be scared or anxious about it, but looking at you brings me some kind of calmness. It’s like I already knew you.” And it was true, you felt some kind of deep connection to him, like something inside of you could recognize something inside of him.

“You do?” He sounded so hopeful and excited that you wanted to hug him and kiss the tip of his nose. What was wrong with you? “You a… Well, you see… Youaremymate.”

“I’m what?”

“You are my mate,” he told you, slower this time. At your confused look, he continued, “let me explain. So…. I’m a werewolf.” At your not-impressed look he changed before you. His face contorted and his bones cracked and before you knew it he was a fucking werewolf.

For both of your surprises, you didn’t scream, you didn’t panic, you just stared at him until your brain came back into action. “What the fuck!? How are you even real?!” You must have hit your head when you fell down. That’s it. That’s why the dude in front of you was a werewolf and why he was saying you were his mate. Yep, that’s the reason. He pinched your arm and you slapped his hand. “Why did you do that?”

“You aren’t dreaming. Or hit your head. I’m a werewolf and I’m real.” You stared at him for what felt like an eternity but was probably just a couple seconds. For some reason, you believed him and that made you question your sanity even more.

“You know what? I believe you. My life couldn’t get any messier, but apparently it can.” You laughed at that, hysterically. He looked at you with concern all over his face. “I’m okay, I’m okay…” You repeated as you wiped tears off the corner of your eyes. “I’m just having a bit of a breakdown.” He hugged you then, pulling you against his furry chest and embracing you tightly.

Weirdly enough, it made you calm down. Your breathing evening out to match his and your body relaxing in his arms. “So… do you want to make out?” He asked again, making you chuckle and looking up at him incredulously.

“Are you serious right now?” His kicked puppy face was answer enough. “Of course you are. I- No I don’t- You know what? I do. Let’s make out. If my life is going to get this crazy, I can surrender to it and also be insane.” You felt completely out of control, nothing made sense anymore and why not... Kissing a werewolf didn’t sound like the worst idea in that moment. He was handsome as fuck and he looked even better with all the furriness he had going on. You wanted to kiss him when he was human so… why not? Insanity was as good option as any other.

“You are not insa-” He didn’t finish that thought before you launched for his mouth and started kissing his wolfy face. The fangs against your lips made some deep part of you tingle. The danger and the anticipation making everything so intense you could feel your pussy getting wet. He sniffed the air and groaned against your mouth. “I can smell your desire,” he growled against your ear, breaking the kiss. You groaned in response, feeling hot all over.

You felt like your body was burning from the inside out, like your blood was made of lava and you were about to burn down completely. Your pussy felt so wet and so ready you could feel your heartbeat in your clit. “What is happening to me?” You asked, fanning yourself.

He looked down at you, guilty as fuck. “You started the mating process. You kissed me and now your body is going to react strongly to everything we do. You are going to get really horny, really soon.” You shook was rapidly replaced by a new wave of heat. Fuck. You groaned and kissed him again.

He tore a hole in your pants and ripped your panties, exposing your pussy to his hungry eyes. He stared at your center and slowly circled your clit as he pushed two fingers inside of you. You cried out and came around his fingers.

“More. More. Give me your cock.” You were frantically pulling at his pants, trying to free what felt like a dick bigger than anything you’d experienced before. He got himself free and you gasped when you saw. It was different from humans, larger in every way, but also had a different shape. It was fat in the middle instead of the tip, and there was a big bulge at the base that looked incredibly to grind against. “Now. Now. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…” you chanted. Your brain couldn’t understand anything else but the heat burning inside of you and his dick being the solution.

“Are you su-?” He tried to ask, but you weren’t having any of that. You needed to be fucked and you needed it NOW.

“If you don’t fuck me right now I swear to God I’-” He grabbed your hips and lowered you to his dick in a second, his dick fitting inside of you in one long thrust that had you throwing your head back and crying out in ecstasy. It was perfect. His dick was perfect.

He didn’t give you time to adjust to his girth, he started a punishing pace, his hands on your hips as he moved you up and down. You were grateful for that, your legs turned into jelly and you doubted you could do anything to help him right now. His movements were perfect but not enough. You rubbed your clit frantically as he told you how pretty you were, how good you looked and how lucky he was having a mate as beautiful as you.

You came apart in his lap. Once, twice, three times… He wasn’t stopping. He had super stamina or something like that because his dick was hitting all your perfect spots and you were seeing stars as he just kept going. Your pussy felt used, but you wanted more, so much more…

You needed, you needed something… Something. And then you felt it. “What is that?” You asked between groans, your body limp because of the pleasure.

He grunted and moved your hips up and down faster, making you see stars. “My knot. Do you- Do you want that?” You nodded, not knowing what you were getting yourself into, but too lost in the pleasure he was giving you.

It took some work, but he moved your hips against it until it was coated in your juices and it could slip inside. You blacked out for a couple seconds when you felt the extreme fullness inside of you. Your pussy was stretched to the max and it felt better than anything you’ve ever experienced. You felt like you reached nirvana. And then you could feel him coming inside of you, so much, so hot and fast… You were being stuffed, and it felt... marvelous.

You came a couple more time grinding his knot against your G-spot and when you couldn’t take it anymore, you deflated against his front. His knot was still firm inside of you, spurting cum every once in a while. You didn’t care anymore, you could take a nap right there.

“Can I confess something to you?” He broke the silence, his hands caressing your back in a hypnotizing motion.

“Well, it’s not like we can move, can we?” You asked, his knot firmly pressed inside of you. You rolled your hips experimentally and groaned at the sensation. So good.

“I hid the hole so you’d fall into it,” he confessed, hiding his wolfy face in your neck, licking that spot behind your ear that made you shiver. The combination of his knot pressing onto your G-spot and the licking was making your brain foggy with pleasure.

But then his words registered, “Dude, what?!”

[spilledkaleidoscope]

Activation Energy and Executive Dysfunction

A bunch of people (with executive dysfunction I assume) reacted a little disheartened to how I described the phenomenon.

The gist is that I used activation energy, a concept from chemistry, as a model for how executive dysfunction can keep you from doing things. Activation energy is the minimal energy that has to be available for any chemical reaction to occur and that amount is specific to every reaction.

Executive Dysfunction to me means, that this activation energy is always high, even for tasks other people experience as spontaneous reaction (yes the amount of ae and spontaneity of a reaction are not connected necessarily but bear with me here). A good example is showering or feeding yourself or sometimes getting up from the couch.

The tricky thing here is that the energy put into trying to reach activation energy is still *expended*, so while it might seem like nothing happens, you still get drained, making it harder to reach activation energy levels.

So what can we do?

In synthesis, if your activation energy is too high you basically can do two things: you either add a catalyst, or you find a different way to get to your result altogether.

The latter can be choosing a simpler recipe to feed yourself, graze on random items without making a meal until you are full or ordering food for example.

This is not always possible, but it *is* worth thinking about. An example from my life would be that I open my mail outside at the trash bins and immediately discard what I don't need because otherwise, I have paperstuff flying around my appartment that I don't get rid of.

"Weird" is not something that should factor in here. Make it functional and helpful.

The catalyst is my favourite solution however, and I can give you some tips here that you can *immediately* use. I won't know if they work for you, but they do for me (sometimes! be kind to yourself).

CATALYSTS AGAINST EXECUTIVE DYSFUNCTION

Have your tasks broken down: when you have energy, make sure that the thing on your to do list is something you can *actually* physically immediately do. Don't write "make reservation", but "call restaurant" along with the number. Not "clean kitchen" but "move dishes to sink" etc

Doorway Effect: The Doorway effect describes that silly thing that, when we cross a boundary, we sometimes feel like we've been soft reset ("what was I going to do?"). A hypothesis for why this happens can be that it helps our brain create separate contexts which then aids memory creation. What it can do for you is that it is an easy way to change context, which then frees you up to start something new more easily. Try it! Physically go through a doorway or open a different window on the computer, sometimes that is enough.

Costuming: Similar to the Doorway Effect, we are changing context in a low effort way here. Concentrate on putting on your shoes instead of taking out the trash or put on some rubber gloves if you plan on cleaning. Might be enough. Sometimes putting on mascara is enough for me to go "oh I am out of couch potato mode now"

Move! Put yourself where you need to be to tackle your task. That can already help.

Pressure: This can be done by setting a timer that will go off soon. Challenge yourself to get up and go before it rings - might stress you into inaction sometimes, but it can be helpful. I love visual timers for this as it helps with my time blindness

Prepare! If you are in a state of flow and have energy to spare *use it*. This includes breaking down your task as already described but also preparing your space - this can be a cleaned up desk or a caddy with cleaning supplies in a prominent spot.

And my absolute favorite: Throw a dice. When it is really bad, one thing I can always do is throw a dice (via an app, typing "d20" into the search bar or physically having one on me - which I usually do now). I tell myself that if I "make the roll" I get up and do it and if I don't, I try again in 20 minutes. This changes context easily, removes responsibility from me and makes the whole thing playful. I usually go with a d20 and tell myself to get going with a result over 10. If I have a particularly bad day I might need 15+ to do something. Just try it.

In short, what we are trying to do is

minimize friction by frontloading as much thinking and preparing as we can

make a context change as easy and small as possible

And remember: the goal is never to Always Be Doing Something.

[trickphotography2]

we can't be friends (but i'd like to just pretend)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x unnamed female!reader, callsign Ladybug (story from Jake's POV)

Word count: 12.8k (sorry, it's a really long one)

Synopsis: Jake's not entirely sure how the bet came about other than being too drunk and maybe a little bored at the Fourth of July party. But after shaking on it with Yale, he agrees to help the new WSO - Ladybug - out with her crush on Rooster and figure out how to get the two of them to the Navy Ball together. With four months to get it done, it'll be simple. But when the reserved aviator is harder to get to know than expected, Jake has to push her to get out of her own way.

Written for @sorchathered Rom-Com challenge, with a prompt of She's All That

Warning: This fic does include angst (mentions of drunk driving and the aftermath, PTSD, loss of consciousness, and toxic men) with fluff

18+, minors DNI

Crossposted on Ao3 | My Masterlist

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The Hard Deck was busy for a Monday, which suited Jake just fine as long as he still had access to the dartboard and could flirt with some of the fresher faces while avoiding his previous mistakes. After a long day in the classroom, he was ready to let off some steam, and the pretty blonde thing by the bar looked like she’d do nicely. 

Downing the rest of his beer, he threw his last three darts, ending the game against Coyote with a decisive win and making his way to the bar. Yale and Omaha were there, but the rest of the Daggers were huddled by the pool table. As he passed, he could hear Phoenix telling everyone about the new WSO she was sponsoring that was finally arriving after her orders got pushed back - he still didn’t understand why she volunteered for the extra duty. Sponsors were great, but unless you had kids, getting established on a new base wasn’t hard - show up on time, figure out your housing, and report to command ASAP. There was no need to have someone hold your hand through the process. But that was just his opinion. If Phoenix wanted to spend her spare time being pen pals with folks moving to San Diego and running around to help them get settled, more power to her. 

Getting the blonde’s number was hardly a challenge, and she grinned at him while walking away to rejoin her friends. Jake motioned to Jimmy for another beer, and the older man quickly slid one over the counter. Moving closer to his fellow aviators, Jake leaned against the bar and surveyed the crowd. “Found yourself another tag chaser?” Yale chuckled, sipping his drink.

“Like shootin’ fish in a barrel,” Jake shrugged and smiled as the girl looked at him again. He threw a wink for good measure and saw how the friend group giggled.

The front door opened, and his eyes darted to the woman walking in. Even if she hadn’t been wearing her khakis, the god-awful birth control glasses that Bob also favored would have given her away as military. Jake let his gaze rake over the unfamiliar woman, clocking the double bars and wings as she looked around nervously. And then he heard Phoenix call out, and she looked up. 

Omaha looked up from his drink, tracking the woman as well. “Shit,” he hisses through his teeth before lifting his glass and taking a swig. “That’s Ladybug?” Twisting, Jake watched her reach Phoenix, who seemed to be introducing her to the rest of the crew.

“Ladybug?” Yale asked, straightening from where he leaned against the bar. His eyes tracked her as she moved, barely hiding a sneer behind his drink. 

“My new backseater,” Omaha sighed. Since Halo had gotten orders to Pensacola, the aviator had been waiting for his new WSO to arrive. 

“And would you look at that - girl’s swingin’ way out of her league.” Even from across the bar, Jake could see Ladybug blushing as she talked to Rooster and reached up to adjust her glasses. Phoenix, standing between them, caught his gaze and raised an eyebrow. Smirking, he turned away, his attention settling back on the table of women who weren’t subtle about their looking at him. Lifting his beer, he grinned around the mouth of the bottle before slapping the bar and pushing away from it.

“If you’ll excuse me, gents - looks like I’ve got an audience.” 

It was still early when he closed out his and Kristen’s tabs, and Jake reflexively looked back toward where the Daggers hung out. Most were still there, but he noted that Ladybug had already left. The scowl Phoenix shot him when she sensed his gaze let him know he’d get an earful tomorrow about not welcoming the new kid, but he’d deal with it.  

“Ready?” Kristen purred, running her hand up his back as she came alongside him. Grinning down at her, he nodded before signing his receipt and shoving his wallet into his back pocket.

“Let’s get outta here.” 

Weeks bled past, punctuated by a party at Payback’s for the Fourth of July. As the married man in the crew, the Fitch family was always happy to host.

And while Jake wasn’t purposefully keeping tabs on Ladybug - “Bug is fine,” she’d told everyone - he started to notice her absence more. While in the Ready Room, she often looked out the window and listened to the radio chatter while others played foosball and messed around. Omaha said she was good but missed Halo and joking around in the cockpit. Bob, Fanboy, and Phoenix seemed to be the only ones to get her to open up and crack a rare smile. She didn’t join them at lunch in the cafeteria or for drinks at the Hard Deck. 

And every time Rooster got near her, she got flustered. Her usual reserve and cool seemed to disappear, and she either clammed up or rambled. 

So, seeing her show up at the party with a fruit platter was surprising. Payback’s wife, Maria, quickly offered her a drink, and Bug joined Phoenix and her girlfriend, Kerri. From the grill, Jake watched as she mingled, and he wondered how she was wearing jeans on a day when the temperature was already reaching the mid-80s. Most of the other women had opted for shorts or summer dresses - god, he loved summer dress season - but Bug’s only concession to the heat seemed to be a short-sleeved shirt and occasionally pressing her cold soda can to her neck.

“I gotta ask,” Kerri said, her arm looping through Bug’s as they walked into the kitchen to grab food. “What’s the story behind Ladybug? Nat told me there’s always a story behind the callsign.” While assembling his burger, Jake found himself listening to their conversation.

“I, uh… I worked with a lot of…new… pilots when I was starting. There were a couple of close calls and,” she shrugged. “Ladybugs are good luck.” 

“Shit,” Rooster said, glancing up from spooning pasta salad onto his plate. He grinned, a sunburn already appearing on his face. “I remember you on the Ford now - you were the WSO with the kid just out of FRS who panicked when his landing gear got stuck and nearly skidded into the ocean.” 

Bug’s eyes were big behind her glasses as she flushed, pouring chips onto the table when she missed her plate. Quickly, she set the bag down and cleaned up her mess while muttering, “Yeah.” 

“Damn. That was a bad one - thought he was gonna ram the back of the carrier at first.” Rooster put down his plate and lifted his hands to demonstrate. “I heard the pilot started descent without realizing his front gear wasn’t down, missed the tailhook, and almost didn’t accelerate fast enough to recover. They circled and had to dump fuel while they got the barricades up, but they came in too low and nearly clipped the back of the ship before finally skidding in.” 

“Jesus!” Kerri said, looking at Bug. “Seriously?”

“It was his first carrier landing,” the woman replied with a shrug. “He got better.” 

“After we all had to sit through a lecture on the basics of landing,” Rooster smirked while grabbing his plate and throwing a wink at Bug, who flushed bright red. “Didn’t you both have to sit front and center for that one?”

“It was a good refresher.”

“He still flying?” Jake asked, biting into a carrot stick. Bug’s eyes flashed with something before her gaze dropped to her plate. 

“Not anymore,” she said softly, quickly heading back outside with her plain burger and a handful of chips. He and Rooster exchanged glances as Kerri got a worried look on her face. 

The drinks flowed, and Jake enjoyed himself as he hung out with his buddies. As fun as it was to have Mav around, it was also really nice when the soon-to-be-Admiral chose to hang out with his wife and stepdaughter, allowing the younger crowd to cut loose. Payback and Maria had already offered anyone who'd drank too much a safe space to crash, and Jake would take advantage of it. He and Yale went shot-for-shot in beer pong, and his tongue was red from the jello shots he’d consumed. 

“She’s delusional,” Yale slurred, punching Jake’s arm and pointing to where Bug and Rooster were chatting. “Not hot ‘nough to pull an aviator.”

“She’s an aviator too, dick,” Jake rolled his eyes, watching as Bug pressed her cold soda can to her throat. The movement shifted her shirt, and he could see that she had the beginning of a sunburn on her arms. Squinting, he stared at the raised red line that reached the middle of her bicep, and, as though feeling his gaze, she looked at him. Her eyes darted down to her arm, and she quickly adjusted her sleeve to hide it, her face flushing. 

“Oooh, Hangman’s gotta crush on Bug!” He rolled his eyes at the immaturity, sipping his beer and anticipating the hangover he’d have in the morning for mixing alcohol. 

“You’re drunk. She’s a decent WSO and keeps Omaha’s dumbass alive.” And that was true. As much as he never wanted a backseater, he couldn’t help but notice how methodical Bug was. She was the first on the flight line doing her pre-flight checks, talking to the flight crew and mechanics about anything that felt off in the jet. She took thorough notes during a mission brief and conferred with the other WSOs to triple-check things before heading out. He knew that Mav was keeping an eye on her, probably vetting her for a reference to a test program. 

The conversation shifted, and Jake could feel his tongue getting looser the more he drank. That was how he was somehow talked into a dumb bet - that Bug would catch Rooster’s eye and go to the Navy Ball with him. 

And Jake would help.

Bug left the party before night fell, missing the impressive fireworks and sparklers they set off in the front yard. They had to brush debris from their hair and use the hose to put out minor fires in the grass, but thankfully, the only injuries were minor burns.

As he lay on Payback’s couch, Jake closed one eye to stop the room from spinning when his phone started going off. He ignored the few messages asking what he was doing and if he wanted to come over, wishing he was sober enough to drive home instead of listening to Yale’s snoring. 

As much as Jake wanted to forget his drunken bet with Yale, the other pilot was adamant they followed through because he’d shaken on it. And, never one to back down from a challenge, he reluctantly agreed. 

His first step was reconnaissance. With four months until the Navy Ball, he knew he had enough time to enact his plan once he figured it out. He knew Rooster and the type of women he usually dated. And it wasn’t that Bug was unattractive, just that she seemed not to give a shit what she looked like. Which wasn’t great because Rooster usually dated women who did. They wouldn’t have been caught dead in public without a perfect face of makeup, while Bug seemed content with eyeliner, not even bothering to hide the pimples that occasionally decorated her face. The few times he saw her off duty, she favored comfortable clothes over cute, and he never saw her hair out of anything but the regulation bun or a ponytail. 

However, Jake's most significant obstacle was her confidence. While Bug had no problems with her confidence regarding her job, the moment the conversation strayed outside anything to do with work, she seemed anxious. And if she was going to get Rooster’s attention, that would need to change. 

The first thing he had to do, though, was to gain her trust. Without that, she wouldn’t hear him out on any of his suggestions.

Which was why he found himself approaching her at lunch after seeing her sitting outside at one of the few tables under the trees that the smokers usually used during breaks. She looked down at her phone, occasionally tapping the screen as she picked at her lunch. “Mind if I join you?” Jake asked, not bothering to wait for her answer before tossing his heated-up chicken and rice onto the table and sitting. Bug gave him a surprised look but returned her attention to her phone, eyes occasionally flicking toward him as he ate and watched her finish her apples, cheese, and crackers. She blushed every time their eyes met, and he noticed she wasn’t tapping her phone as much. He was about to say something when she frowned, tossed her apple back into her lunch container, and tucked the phone to her ear.

“Hey, gimme a second.” With a tight smile, Bug gathered her things and shoved them into her lunch bag, slipping it over her arm before standing and walking away. 

Jake tried again the next day, only to find that Bug wasn’t at the table. Instead, he saw her walking around the building with her headphones in, her flight suit tied around her waist, and one of her sleeves pushed up. On the third day, he beat her to the table and saw her pause when she caught sight of him. “I don’t bite, Bug,” he called out and saw her shoulders tense. Her gaze was guarded as she trudged to the table and sat, not saying a word as she pulled out her container of apples, cheese, and crackers with flavored water. His eyes darted over her meal as she opened the container. “So what’d’ya think about the new group of trainees?”

Her hand froze as she dug in her pocket, eyes slowly lifting to meet his. “They’re cocky.” Her answer made him smirk as he reached across the table to grab a hunk of cheese from her lunch. “Hey!”

“We were all cocky when we got here. The instructors and Adversary students will beat it outta them.” Bug gave him an incredulous look as he popped the cheese in his mouth and grinned. 

“Clearly, they didn’t beat it out of everyone.” The steely look she gave him was the most animated he’d seen her. She slapped the back of his hand when he reached for a cracker. “You have your own lunch, Hangman.” 

“That’s not a lunch, Bug, that’s a kid’s snack. You need protein.” She ignored him and pulled out her phone, tapping on the screen. Chuckling, he opened his lunchbox and took out his meal, stirring the chicken and rice together. He watched her as he ate, smirking every time he caught her glancing at him and noting the rising blush on her cheeks. “Why do you hide out here?” he asked. 

“I hardly think sitting outside the office is hiding,” came her clipped response. 

“It is if you’re avoiding your squad.” 

“Maybe I just like peace and quiet while I’m eating.” 

“And scrolling social media.” 

“I’m not - ” Bug lowered her phone enough for him to glance at the screen, seeing it covered in text. “I just like to read in silence, okay? Do you mind?” Jake shrugged and didn’t say anything for a few minutes until he finished eating, his fork clattering in the glass container as he tossed it down. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. 

“What are you reading?” 

“A book.” 

“Is it any good?”

“It’s hard to tell when someone keeps interrupting me.” 

“What type is it?” 

“An e-book.”

“No,” he chuckled. “History? Non-fiction? Biography?” The faded blush roared back, and she refused to meet his gaze. His grin grew as he asked, “Is it a sex book?”

Bug locked her phone and set it face down on the table. Crossing her arms over her chest, she lifted her chin, lips pressed into a thin line. “What do you want, Hangman?” 

“Nothin’. Just trying to get to know my new squadmate.” 

“You don’t have to know me,” she snapped, shoving her things into her lunch bag. “I already have a sponsor and a pilot.” Startled by her response and the tears glistening in her eyes, he pushed to his feet as she stood.

“Bug - ”

“Just leave me alone, Hangman.” 

For as close as the squad worked together, Bug was good at holding herself apart from the team. After slipping a note into her locker with a quickly jotted ‘Sorry’ and feeling like he’d regressed to high school, Jake left her alone. Losing a bet wasn’t worth being an asshole and causing a rift in team dynamics. 

But while she was ignoring him, it was good to see that she was at least talking to Phoenix. And, every once in a while, Rooster, who still seemed oblivious to her crush. Jake tried not to look at Yale whenever the two interacted, not wanting to see the mocking eye-roll the other aviator would send his way. The way she’d blushed and tripped over her boots when Rooster patted her shoulder after a run where Omaha managed to get tone on him with her guidance was enough for Yale to go on a ten-minute tear about her at the Hard Deck.

Jake had walked away. He hadn’t even stayed long enough to pick someone up and went back to his apartment, wondering what the hell Yale had against Bug.

An August rainstorm drove Bug inside to the cafeteria, and Bob waved her over to join them. The only seat left was between Jake and Rooster, and she reluctantly settled between them and opened her salad. Jake was happy to see bits of grilled chicken in it but forced himself not to say anything. He was relieved that Yale, Harvard, and Fritz had decided to go to the food court for lunch so he wouldn’t have to witness how Bug kept herself apart, how she picked at her food, and how her eyes were downcast. When Phoenix mentioned the upcoming beach trip, she didn’t hear the offer to join until Rooster nudged her, brow furrowing in concern. 

“Yeah, sure,” she murmured, not seeming to realize what she agreed to. 

Later, when they were in the desk farm, Jake saw Bug jump out of her seat and leave quickly, phone pressed to her ear.

And Yale glared at her while looking up from his phone.

Bug needs help and you’re the closest. Here’s her address.

Jake stared at his phone as he sat at a red light. Halfway to the beach, he quickly flicked his blinker to pull a U-turn and head back toward his house. Bug only lived a few streets away from him, in one of the apartment complexes that had gone up over the last year.

He spotted her standing by her car, phone pressed to her ear and lower lip between her teeth. Jake frowned when he drove behind her, seeing the tilted vehicle. Rather than pulling into a spot, he parked behind her and hopped out to see that two tires were slashed. Her eyebrows rose behind her glasses when she saw him, and she quickly spun to avoid his concerned gaze, her floor-length floral skirt fluttering. 

“Whatever is closest, I don’t care,” she said, and he could hear the barely constrained tears in her voice. “Yeah, two tires…. Alright, thank you.” He crouched and ran his finger over the puncture mark on the back tire, glancing up to see that Bug’s shoulders were up by her ears. 

“You alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine. I told Phoenix that I didn’t need anyone here.” 

“Someone slashed your tires.”

“It happened to a few people last night,” she shrugged, slowly turning to face him. “It’s an annoyance, but nothing I can’t handle on my own.” 

“Was that the insurance company?” 

“Yeah. They’re going to tow it to a garage for me.”

“Alright, how long are they gonna be?”

“They said an hour, which probably means two. You should go and enjoy the beach.” 

“I’m not going, Bug. Did you call the police?” 

“They’re the ones who let me know it happened. One of my neighbors called them after he came out and saw his slashed.”

“So you’ve got the report number?” When she nodded, he ran a hand through his hair. “Alright, I’m gonna move my truck.” 

“Hangman, I’m serious - ”

“So am I. I can sit in my truck or wait by your car, or we can go inside, but I’m not leaving until they get your car. And then we can go to the beach.” 

“I’m not going to the beach.”

“We’ll see.” Bug’s lips pressed into a thin line as she crossed her arms, hip cocking to one side. He smiled at the sight, eyes snagging on the red scar on her arm. With his sunglasses on, she didn’t notice.

Her apartment was nice, in the ‘recently moved in and haven’t fully unpacked’ way. As she grabbed some water, he looked at the cart of books sitting by her couch. One caught his eye, and he flipped to a random page. 

Patroclus is breathing harder than the effort to hold our princess down requires, and his cock is so stiff, it’ll be a fucking miracle if he doesn’t come just from foreplay. It’s fine if he does. We have all of tonight and tomorrow. 

“What are you doing?” 

Jake looked up from the book and grinned, holding it so the cover faced her. “I didn’t realize you were reading porn at lunch.” 

“It’s not porn,” she snapped, reaching for the book. He wasn’t sure why he did it, but he held the book higher and read aloud. 

“I plan on tucking these two in for some rest after I fuck the worry out - oof!” He doubled over when her fist collided with his stomach, not enough to hurt but to startle him. Face bright red, Bug snatched the book from his hand and returned it to the cart, standing protectively in front of it. “That’s definitely porn,” Jake chuckled. “Good for you. Didn’t take you for a threesome kinda girl - ”

Bug let out a strangled sound before she lunged forward to press her hands to his mouth. “Will you shut the fuck up, Hangman?” Fighting back the urge to lick her palm, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pulled her hand from his mouth, unable to keep from grinning. 

“Your secret’s safe with me, Bug. I won’t tell anyone that you avoid talking to us so you can spend your lunch reading sexy - ”

“Thanks for stopping by; now get the hell out of my house,” she cut him off, ripping her hand out of his hold and pressing it to his shoulder, trying to turn him toward the door. He shook her off, choosing to collapse onto the couch instead. She glared at him briefly before sighing heavily as he reached for one of the water glasses she’d dropped onto the coffee table. Sitting on the opposite side, she grabbed the other glass and ran her thumb through the condensation already forming on the sides. “You really don’t have to stay. The tow driver’ll take care of my car, and I don’t feel like going to the beach after this.”

“‘M startin’ to get the feeling that you don’t like us, Ladybug.” While his tone was teasing, Jake meant every word. “You don’t eat with us, you won’t go to the Hard Deck, and now you’re avoiding a beach day? Those are pretty much mandatory for the squadron.”

Hurt flashed in her eyes, and Bug’s teeth dug into her lower lip. “I… I don’t dislike you guys. I just… there’s a lot of stuff that - ” Her cell started vibrating on the coffee table. Jake’s eyes shot to it, catching the name RISK and seeing a picture of a guy in a flight suit, smirking up at the camera and flipping it off. Bug snatched the phone up, eyes darting toward him. “I’m sorry, I have to take this.” Quickly, she stood while answering it and walking toward her bedroom. “Hey, how’s it - ”

The door closed, muffling her voice. Jake stared at it momentarily before pushing to his feet and walking to the fridge to get a refill. While the rest of the apartment was pretty bare, the refrigerator was covered in magnets from across the world, puns about books, a few bills, and a couple of pictures. He recognized the man from her phone screen as the one with one arm around Bug and her head on his shoulder as they sat in the shadow of an F-18’s wing, hair a tangled mess with her helmet between her knees and a pair of glasses with brown frames perched on her nose. They were there in a group, Bug laughing while sitting on his shoulders and his fingers digging into her thighs to hold her steady at an outdoor concert, the hem of her dress sitting on his head. There were pictures of a softball team, Bug grinning with a bat resting on her bare shoulder.

And Jake realized it was the first time he’d seen her smile like that. 

That thought irked him. And it definitely didn’t make him pay more attention to the calendar hanging in the kitchen. Sipping his water, his eyes darted over her small, neat handwriting, and his brows furrowed. Risk’s PT. Deposition. PCP follow-up. Chiro follow-up. FS reassessment. 

When the bedroom door opened, he was back on the couch, reading one of Bug’s books. Her eyes were red when she stepped out, and he clocked the fake smile. “Tow truck driver just called and said he’s pulling in.” When her eyes landed on the book in his hand - the Kiss Quotient - color rose in her pale cheeks. 

“Good timing. We’ll get that taken care of and head out. Harvard’s already texted me a list of things people forgot, so we’ll grab those at the store on the way.” 

“Hangman - ”

“Bug.” It was his turn to cut her off, the playful tone absent in his voice. “Come on. Give us a chance. If nothing else, Rooster’ll be there.” 

“Why would - ”

“I’m borrowing this, by the way,” he added, raising the book and tucking it under his arm while walking to slip on his shoes.

“What? No - you don’t want - ” The front door shut behind him, and Jake couldn’t help but chuckle when he heard Bug open the door and call for him to stop. He ignored it, going to greet the tow truck driver. 

It was hard not to pay attention to Bug after that day at the beach. She’d declined every offer to play a game, instead sitting on her towel and reading. She didn’t even change into a bathing suit - choosing to wear that long skirt that covered all but the tops of her feet and a t-shirt that gave her a farmer’s tan. The most skin she showed was a flash of ankle when she walked along the water with Kerri, pausing to pick up shells occasionally as Rooster and Phoenix trailed them. Jake tried not to pay too much attention when, on the way back, Kerri and Phoenix pulled ahead, leaving Rooster and Bug walking side by side and chatting.  

But she stayed through the late afternoon retreat to the Hard Deck, sipping cranberry juice and ginger ale. When she stood beside Rooster as he pulled his usual party trick of playing the piano, Jake tried not to notice how her skirt and his hideous Hawaiian shirt almost matched and pay attention to the woman chatting him up. He saw Bug looking at her phone a few times but only slipped away twice before calling it a night. She declined his offer to drive her home when he managed to shake off the woman - Jackie? - for a few minutes, and said goodbye to everyone instead of disappearing as usual. 

And now that he was watching, he noticed how frequently she left work early on days they weren’t in the air. The occasional wince when she turned too quickly to look at something, and how she sometimes favored her left side toward the end of the day. The handful of over-the-counter painkillers she took after they did PT and drove home before hitting the showers. 

She didn’t join them at lunch every day, but she started to make appearances, even though she mostly stayed quiet and frequently left to answer a phone call before the end of the break. And Jake found himself seeking her out at the smoker’s table. After he returned her book, teasing her mercilessly about the explicit sex scenes in the story, she just put in her headphones and flipped him the bird before going for a walk. 

He wouldn’t admit it, but the book had been hot. And it made him wonder what else Bug was reading, face blank as she sat across from him. 

The only one who seemed unhappy about the change was Yale. Jake caught the aviator watching her through narrowed eyes a handful of times and noticed how she went out of her way to avoid him. When he asked Bug about it, she just shrugged and changed the topic. 

The only activity she had yet to do was a night at the Hard Deck, so Jake found himself standing at her front door, grinning at her confused expression. “We’re going out,” he said, reaching over her head to open the door wider and inviting himself inside. 

“What? No, bra hours are done.” Laughing, he kicked off his shoes and spun, planting his hands on his hips. She crossed her arms over her chest, making the thin material of her t-shirt cling to the swell of her breasts and a thin strip of skin appear over the waistband of her sweatpants. 

“Come on, Bug. You need to do a Hard Deck night with us. Everyone’s gonna be there in a few, and it’ll be fun.” When she stared at him, he forced his smile to not falter. “You can’t tell me you didn’t have fun the two times you’ve been there before.” 

“I…” she paused and took a deep breath, eyes pinching behind her glasses. “I appreciate the invitation, Hangman, but I want a quiet night. I’m exhausted and - ”

“Just a couple of hours. Have a few drinks, play some pool, and then I’ll bring you home. Promise.” The longer he looked at her, the more his smile faltered. So he played his ace - “Rooster’ll be there.” 

Her brows knit together for a moment before her expression cleared. “I’ll give you one hour,” she sighed.

“Three.”

“I’m not putting my bra back on for three hours. Two or no deal.” 

“You’ve got it. As long as you wear something other than jeans.” 

“What’s wrong with jeans?” she demanded, squeaking in protest when he pushed past her into her bedroom. He flicked on the light, glancing quickly at her unmade bed and rumpled sheets before moving toward her closet. “Do you even know what boundaries are?” 

He quickly flicked past her flight suits and uniforms, finding what he was looking for in the back of her closet. Grabbing the hanger, he grinned while turning to see Bug’s scowl. “Wear this,” Jake said, trying to hand her the hanger holding a sundress. She stared at it, eyes slowly raising to meet his.

“No.” 

“Come on.” 

“No.”

“You’ll look hot in it.” 

“I’m wearing jeans or nothing.”

“Not sure why you’d be naked instead of wearing a dress, but I’m not opposed.” She blushed, shaking her head. 

“Goodnight, Hangman. Thanks for stopping by, but I’m tired.” Jake sighed her name, making her eyebrows shoot up. He’d never called her that before, and he wasn’t sure why he did it now. She was always Bug or Ladybug. 

“Wear the dress. Come out and have fun with your friends. Please?” Their gazes met, and he could see the conflict in her eyes. And, after a long moment, she reached out to take the hanger. Their fingers brushed, and he tried to keep his eyes trained on hers but couldn’t help but notice how her breathing had increased. The slight tightness around her mouth as she blinked quickly. And the subtle way her body trembled. 

“I-I’m going to jump in the shower.” 

When the bathroom door closed, Jake had the urge to knock on it and tell her she didn’t have to wear the damn dress. That she could go in her sweatpants and he wouldn’t care. That he was an idiot for asking, Yale’s reminder about their bet ringing in his ears as he drove past her street. She didn’t have to wear a damn dress to get Rooster’s attention, and she shouldn’t have a crush on a guy who was so oblivious.

Instead, he walked back to the kitchen, opened the cupboards until he found a glass, and helped himself to some water. He stared at that picture of Bug on the man’s shoulders. Her eyes nearly closed behind her glasses with how broadly she smiled, one hand holding a cowgirl hat to her head, the other thrown out to keep herself steady with a beer clutched in her hand. 

Jake couldn’t believe that Rooster wouldn’t remember a girl like that. Even without the makeup and smiles, there was no mistaking Bug. Behind those birth control glasses, he could still see glimpses of that woman in the WSO. And it bothered him not to know what had happened to dim that shine. 

He was a few chapters into another book he’d plucked off the cart when he heard the shower turn off, the blow dryer starting a few minutes later. Jake glanced at his phone to check the time, ignoring the texts asking where he was and if he was going to the Hard Deck. Instead, he set his phone beside him. He settled on the couch, leaning against the arm and making himself comfortable as he read about a group of guys who got together and read romance books to save their relationships. 

Jake was lost in Gavin and Thea’s story when he heard a throat clear. Sitting up quickly, he spun in his seat, jaw nearly dropping at the sight of Bug. But not his Bug - the Bug from the picture, standing in her doorway with a teasing smirk on her red lips and uncertainty in her eyes. She shifted under his open admiration, hand lifting to adjust the glasses that she wasn’t wearing. “Let me guess, you’re gonna borrow that one too?” 

“I…uh… yeah,” he nodded, moving to stand before her. She hadn’t pulled her hair back into its usual bun or ponytail, leaving it down so it curled against her shoulders. Jake let his gaze dance down her body, and Bug’s shoulders pulled back under his blatant inspection, inadvertently drawing his attention to her breasts pressing against the sweetheart neckline of her dress. When she crossed her arms, his attention went to the raised red scar on her right arm, and he had to stop himself from reaching out and tracing it with his fingertips. It was about the width of a pencil, curling from the top of her shoulder to the middle of her bicep. Sensing her discomfort, he tore his gaze away, allowing it to drift lower. Her dress skimmed the top of her knees, and he bit back a groan at seeing cowboy boots on her feet, red scars decorating the skin on display. 

Bug’s hand was clenched tightly around a jean jacket, and Jake could feel the discomfort radiating off her. But she met his eyes when they lifted. He wasn’t a makeup expert, but he could appreciate how her eyeshadow and winged eyeliner complemented her eyes, and he found it heartening that he could still see the little divot on her nose from her glasses. “Can you even see without your BCGs?” Jake asked after clearing his throat. 

The apprehension drained from her face at his gentle teasing, and Bug scoffed while rolling her eyes. “I hate wearing contacts, but I’ll put up with it for a couple of hours.” Shaking his head, he reached for her jacket and took it, holding it out to help her slip it on. His fingers accidentally grazed her neck, and he caught the subtle scent of something floral when she turned toward him. His eyes went to her lips like they were a painted target, and her voice was a little breathier than usual when she spoke. “I’ll meet you there?” 

“I’ll drive,” he answered, voice husky as he stepped back.

“I’ll drive so you can have a couple of drinks.”

He shook his head, digging into his jeans pocket for his keys. “You can be my WSO tonight and pick the music, but I’m driving.” That made her roll her eyes, and Jake had to force himself not to stare at her ass as she walked in front of him out of the apartment and down to his waiting truck.

In the dark interior of his truck, he could smell her perfume and gripped the shifter to keep from placing his hand on the expanse of her thigh that flashed in every streetlight they drove under. Seemingly oblivious to his struggle, she sang along to a 90s station about kissing in the moonlight. 

And, once they were outside the Hard Deck, she paused, her hand slipping into his for a fleeting moment. He could feel her shaking and squeezed her fingers before she let him go and stepped into the bar. 

Everyone would have paused to witness the not-improved-by-different Bug if it had been a movie. But no one seemed to notice them enter, and Jake reclaimed her hand to help tow her through the weekend crowd to where he knew the Daggers would be waiting. And that was where Bug got the recognition she deserved, when Kerri catcalled her, making a flush rise on her cheeks as Phoenix’s girlfriend took her hand and dragged her from Jake, encouraging her to do a little twirl. He saw a couple of glances at her scars, but thankfully, no one said anything. 

And Jake spent the night catching men checking her out, but Bug remained oblivious. When he went to the bar to get them some sodas - he overheard a conversation from two pilots about not recognizing her. “Now that’s the Bug I remember,” Rooster said as he joined him at the counter, setting down his empty beer bottle. Jake glanced at his wingman and nodded as they watched her laugh at something Omaha said to her and Fanboy. 

“Hey, Jake,” a somewhat familiar voice said, and he felt a hand on his lower back. A woman slid into the vacant spot beside him, smiling coyly. “Long time no see. Wanna buy me a drink and catch up?” 

For his life, he couldn’t put a name to her face, but he was pretty sure they’d slept together. Beside him, Rooster snorted and ordered his beers. Jake tore his gaze away from the woman and caught Penny before she left. “I’ll get two Cokes, please.”

“That’s not my usual,” she giggled.

“No, it’s my friend’s,” he replied. He shouldn’t have enjoyed the shocked look on her face, but he felt relieved when her hand lifted, and she disappeared into the crowd. 

But when he looked over to see what Bug was up to, she’d also disappeared. When he returned to the group, Bob said she’d stepped onto the patio to take a phone call. Jake sipped his soda and tried not to keep glancing at his watch, but his eyes darted to the back door. Yale arrived, pressing a beer bottle into his hand as they played darts, and he didn’t think before drinking it. 

Forty minutes had passed when he finally decided to look for her. The late September night was still relatively warm, but it was breezy by the water. The laughs were loud on the patio, but he didn’t see her at the tables. The parking lot lights spilled out onto the beach, and Jake caught sight of a flash of color in the corner of his eyes. His feet moved before he realized it, shoes sliding in the soft sand. As he neared, he could see Bug had removed her boots, her forearm across her raised knees as she curled into herself, trying to make herself as small as possible. “It’s okay, Risk,” her voice was soft, and he could hear her sniffle. The sound made him move faster, shrugging off his bomber jacket as he neared. 

Sensing his approach, Bug lifted her head, and his heart broke at the sight of tears on her cheeks as she talked on the phone. In the weak moonlight, he mouthed, “You okay?” She looked at him for a long moment before shaking her head, letting her forehead drop back onto her arm. Jake hesitated a heartbeat before draping his jacket across her shoulders and sitting beside her. The sand was cool, and he rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his wrist and trying not to listen to Bug’s call over the crash of the waves. 

“Risk, I… yeah. But it’s getting… I need to…” she heaved a weary sigh, digging her nails into her shoulder. “I’m going to go, alright? We can talk tomorrow and… I told you, I'm with some friends toni - ” The voice on the other side of the line got loud, and she lifted her head to swipe at her eyes. “No, I’m not fucking any of them, Risk.” The words made his blood boil, but Bug just sounded so tired. “I’ll talk to you - alright, good… I know you’re upset, but I ne - please don’t say that…Risk, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Goodnight.” 

They were silent for a long time, the only sounds were Bug’s occasional sniffles and the tide coming in. A weight hit his bicep, and Jake turned to see that she’d rested her head on his shoulder. He lifted his arm, tugging her closer. She was trembling, and he knew it wasn’t from the cold. “Wanna talk about it?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, he didn’t push. 

“Risk is…was,” Bug said, voice rough with suppressed emotion, “my pilot before I got here. W-we were really close.” It was on the tip of his tongue to say that didn’t give him a right to say that to her, but her next words froze him. “We were in a bad car accident coming h-home from my going away party.”

“How bad?” Jake asked, not wanting to know the answer. 

“Bad. We were t-boned by a drunk driver and - ” she gasped, letting him pull her closer when she started to shake. “Rolled a few times.” Her hand lifted to touch her temple. “I woke up, and everything was upside down. I hit my head so hard that my glasses broke. But I was lucky. Just had a concussion and cuts from crawling out of the glass. Risk wasn’t… he…he was turned to look at me when  we got hit, and he took the brunt of it.” 

“Is he okay?” 

Bug shook her head, tears dripping off her face as she stared at the water, her voice sounding distant. “Paralyzed from his chest down. The docs think he might get some feeling back, but he’ll never walk again. Never fly again. They’re med boarding him out for that and the TBI.”

“Fuck.”

“One minute we were having drinks and he was telling me he was in love with me, and the next everything was literally upside down.” It was his turn to tense.

“D-did… do you love him?”

“Like a brother.” Jake nodded, pushing away the feeling of relief at her words. His heart cracked when he heard her soft sob. “He’s so angry with me. He doesn’t remember the crash, but I do. I think I was conscious for the first two rolls, and…he was so still. I thought he died. I thought I’d lost my best friend and couldn’t do anything to help him.” Acting on instinct, he pulled her into his arms, her knees digging into the sand by his hips as he held her. He could feel her warm tears on his neck as his hand swept her back, holding her tightly. 

But while he half expected her to fall to pieces, Bug just let out these little hiccupping sobs that broke his heart. “I’ve gotcha,” he said, whispering her name as his lips brushed her hair. 

“I should have let them ground me.” The words were so quiet he would have missed them if they weren’t so close. “I had to leave the day after he woke up. I stayed as long as I could, Hangman, I swear. But the flight surgeon cleared me for duty, and I had orders. I had to come here.” 

“You had orders,” he echoed. “He can’t blame you for that.” When she nodded, he repeated himself. “He can’t blame you for that, Bug.”

“He feels like I abandoned him. That I left my wingman. I-I figured you all would feel the same way… Yale does.” 

“What does Yale have to do with this?” 

“He was in our squadron before he got stationed here.” A chill ran down Jake’s spine, bits of information slotting into place. It was quickly replaced with anger. 

Gently, he pulled away from Bug until he could meet her watery gaze. Her eyes were guarded, exhaustion etched in every feature as he ran his thumb across her cheeks to try and clear away the mess of her makeup. “You did nothing wrong, honey. And no one can blame you for what happened - the accident or you being here. Understood?” When her eyes lowered, unable to meet his, he cupped her cheek and raised her head. “Understood?” 

“Did you drink?” His stomach dropped, tasting the beer Yale had given him on his tongue, smelling it on his breath. 

“Just one.” Bug nodded, bracing her hands on his shoulders and pushing to her feet. It took everything in him not to stop her, his hands sliding to her hips as she looked down at him.

“I’m gonna get a car.”

“I can drive - ”

“No.” He let his hands fall to the sand, hating himself for forgetting his promise. “It’s fine. You should stay and have fun.” 

As much as it killed him, he waited with her in the parking lot for her car to arrive, wanting to pull her into his arms but resisting the urge. But when she tried to give him his jacket, he pushed it back into her hands. “I’ll get it later and grab yours before I leave.”

Bug nodded, saying as she slid into the backseat, “Thanks for tonight, Hangman.” He waited until the tail lights had pulled out of the parking lot before turning and making his way into the Hard Deck. 

He wanted to get the hell out of there and pushed his way to the counter to close out his tab. Bug’s jacket was by the pool tables, and he threw down the pen to retrieve it after signing his receipt. Fury rose in him as he spotted Yale laughing with Harvard and Omaha. Without thinking, he stalked toward him, shoving the other aviators out of the way to grab him by his collar and pushed until Yale’s back hit the wall. Jake ignored the ‘Hey!’s and ‘Whoa!’s, the hands trying to pull him away as he leaned close to hiss, “You leave her the fuck alone, hear me? Leave her alone, or I’ll fuckin’ kill you.” 

Hands curled around him, yanking him away, and Rooster banded an arm around his chest while Harvard stepped between them, holding back his pilot. The bar quieted in anticipation of a fight, but Jake only had eyes for Yale, who grinned. “Finally told you, huh? So much for never leaving a man behind.” 

Rooster pulled hard, Payback catching his arm when he raised his fist. “Come on, man,” Rooster grunted, hauling him away. “It’s not worth it.” 

He grit his teeth, breathing heavily through his nose as he shook off the other men. Grabbing Bug’s jacket, he stormed out of the bar, avoiding Penny and Mav’s gaze and the whispers that followed. 

Bug’s jacket sat on his front seat as Jake drove into work on Monday. He’d texted to check on her over the weekend, but she told him she was okay and didn’t want to see anyone. His phone had been blown up with the other Daggers trying to figure out what happened on Friday, but Jake didn’t know how to tell them without sharing Bug’s story - and that wasn’t his to tell. 

The morning briefing was short, and they were dismissed to the Ready Room to prepare for their flights. Jake was going up in the first group. But before he headed out to the flight line, he stopped Bug on her way out of the classroom. “I’m fine,” she said, answering his unasked question. He could see the dark circles under her eyes and the silent request for him to not say anything. So he didn’t. Other than telling her that her jacket was in his car, Jake asked if she’d brought lunch or a kid’s snack. That earned him a tired smile, and she said she would have to buy lunch today. 

But they wouldn’t get that opportunity.

Bug went up in the second group, and Jake listened to the radio chatter while lounging on the couch. He was happy to have gotten tone on Yale and Harvard, pulling riskier moves that Cyclone wasn’t pleased with, but it had been definitely worth it to hear the asshole cursing him over the mic. 

Their flight started routine enough, and Jake was helping himself to a cup of coffee when he noted a change in Bug’s tone. “Hey Omaha, you with me?” she asked after he’d pulled a quick roll into a dive to avoid Fritz’s attempt to lock on them, climbing to regain altitude as they neared the hard deck. “Omaha?”

“Omaha, come in,” Fritz echoed. “Bug, his radio out?” Even though they were out of sight, flying over the desert, Jake’s eyes flicked to the window.

“Negative, radio’s fine. Omaha?” He could hear the tension in her voice. 

“Shit - level wings, Omaha.”

“He’s out!” 

“Inbound,” Rooster called. The Ready Room was silent, and Jake didn’t realize he’d moved closer to the radio until he felt the volume dial in his fingers, cranking it higher. 

“Bug - status?” the tower called. 

“Losing altitude. Fuck!” Hot coffee splashed over his hand as Jake squeezed the paper cup, and he quickly set it down, shaking away the burning liquid at the sound of her panic. 

“Omaha, recover!” the tower yelled. “Someone give me details. 

“55 nose low, 67 bank,” Fanboy called out. 

“They’re diving,” Phoenix breathed. Jake felt a hand on his shoulder but couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything but listen to Bug’s panting breath over the radio. 

“Come on, Omaha,” Payback barked. 

And then Jake heard it - Bitchin’ Betty telling Omaha to pull up. “Punch out,” he whispered. His hand itched for the throttle and stick, adrenaline racing as he pictured the dive. As a backseater, Bug was helpless. There was no stick, no throttle. Just the radar, letting her know how close to the ground they were. Their speed. It was her pilot’s job to keep her safe. He was vaguely aware of Coyote coming up beside him, probably reliving his G-LOC blackout just a year ago. 

“Tone,” Fritz called. 

“8G, mach,” Fanboy called. “Alt 500.” They were nose down, headed toward the ground at the speed of sound. 

“Recover, Omaha!” Rooster yelled. But then one voice drowned all the rest, a scream that Jake would hear in his nightmares for years.

“Neil!” 

“Climbing,” Fanboy called.

“Back, I’m back,” Omaha panted. “Fuck.” 

“Knock off,” the tower ordered, scrubbing the rest of the exercise. “Alright, Omaha, climb back above 12,000.” 

“Payback, knockoff.”

“Fritz, knockoff.”

“Fuck, Bug, you good?” Rooster’s question went unanswered, so he repeated it. “Bug, status?” 

“Bug?” Omaha said. 

“9K and climbing,” came her shaky voice. 

“Rooster, knockoff. See you on the ground.”

“You good?” Coyote asked.

Twenty-seven seconds. Omaha had been out for the longest twenty-seven seconds of Jake’s life. 

“She’s good, Hangman,” Phoenix said. But he didn’t hear it. He focused on the radio, listening to the tower guide everyone back in. Rooster refused to land before Omaha, wanting to keep an eye on everything from the air. The room emptied, and he stayed there until Omaha alerted the tower that he was in the landing position. 

And then he bolted, sprinting past the others to the tarmac, barely restraining himself from running to the jet as Omaha landed and taxied. It took ages for the engines to stop and the canopy to lift. There wasn’t any movement for a long moment until Omaha stood, turning to look at his WSO. He extended his arm, and Jake was relieved to see her arm reach up to bump fists. His breath was sawing in and out of his chest as he raced toward her, barely skidding to a halt as the two embraced as soon as their boots hit the tarmac. “So fuckin’ sorry, Bug,” Omaha breathed. “Never happened before, and it - ”

“Are you alright?” Jake demanded, forcing himself not to shove the other man away, his hands clenching and unclenching as he tried to draw deep breaths. 

“We’re good,” Omaha answered.

“Are you alright?” Jake demanded again, gaze not leaving Bug’s wide eyes. Her face was damp, and he could see the imprint of her mask on her pale face, but otherwise, she seemed fine. 

“We’re good,” she repeated, her voice steady. But when he pulled her into his arms, he could feel that she was shaking hard and smelled the sharp scent of sweat. He was vaguely aware of the others arriving, their questions going unanswered as Bug rested her helmeted head on his shoulder, hiding her face from them.

“I’ve gotcha.” He didn’t want to let her go, but he knew they needed to make their way to medical. She and Omaha would need to be checked out and debriefed. Eventually, she pulled away and looked up at him, and Jake made himself give her a reassuring smile as he reached to unclip her helmet. Her hair was sleek with sweat when he lifted it from her head, tucking it under his arm. 

“Hey,” Rooster said, appearing beside them, glancing between the two. “You good?” 

“Yeah,” Bug nodded, stepping toward him and throwing her arms around him. “Thank you, Rooster.”

“‘Course. You ready to get checked out?” She nodded, glancing at Jake. He handed her the helmet and tipped his chin to where the flight surgeon was already talking to Omaha. It hurt to turn away from her, and he caught a flash of something in her eyes as he moved away to shake Fritz’s hand. Rooster threw him a look before tossing an arm over Bug’s shoulder and walking her toward the doc, stopping so she could hug Payback and Fanboy along the way. 

They spent the rest of the day in the classroom, neither Omaha nor Bug joining them. When Jake left work, he saw that her car was already gone. There was talk of getting together to have a few drinks at the Hard Deck, but Jake had no interest in going - especially not when Bob had quipped about another lucky landing for Ladybug.

He’d planned on going straight home and having a glass of whiskey. It was his preferred way to wind down after a hard day, and this one hit harder than most. It wasn’t the first time he’d almost lost a wingman, and he knew it would take some time to shake, but this time was… different. 

This time, it was Bug.

Jake was parking at her apartment and knocking on her door before he realized it. His fist collided with the metal when she didn’t answer. “Bug, it’s me,” he called. She was there - her car was in its spot. But she didn’t answer. He banged again, then rested his forehead on the door, calling her name. When he heard the flick of the lock, he straightened. 

Bug’s eyes were red when they met his, her hair a tangled mess on her shoulders. She was still in her flight suit, the sleeves tied around her waist and her black undershirt discolored with sweat. They stared at one another for a heartbeat before Jake stepped closer, cupped her face, and kissed her. His lips were rough against hers, and he took advantage of her surprised gasp to deepen it. Her hand carded in his hair and he walked them into her apartment, pausing only long enough to kick the door closed. He moved his hand to curl around her neck, guiding her to just the right spot while his other hand slid under her shirt, wanting to reassure himself that she was alright. Bug moaned as his hand curved around her waist, fingers digging in and pulling her close enough to feel her heart beating against his. 

Jake tasted spearmint on her tongue and, when they broke apart to catch their breath, the salt on her skin as his lips sealed on her throat. His fingers curled in her hair, tugging lightly to encourage her to give him more access as he nipped and soothed the hurt with his tongue. “Fuck,” she breathed. 

“Don’t scare me like that, honey,” he whispered, relishing the soft whimper she let out. “Can’t do that to me.” 

“I was so scared,” she admitted. “It was just like the crash. I couldn’t do anything but watch.” His mouth covered hers, unwilling and unable to think about her being in situations where he couldn’t do anything to help. Standing by the radio and listening, being helpless, had been the worst kind of torture.

They froze when there was a knock on the door. And then Jake felt as though he’d been doused in cold water when he heard Rooster call out, “Bug?” He pulled away and stared at her, taking in her kiss-swollen lips and the red marks he’d left on her throat. “Bug?” 

“J-just a minute,” she called back. The glint in her eye dimmed slightly as he stepped away, dropping his hands from her body. Jake ran a hand down his face before licking his lips, savoring the taste of her mouth, tongue, and lip balm before he cleared his throat while continuing to back away.

“I’m… I’m glad you’re okay.” 

“You don’t have to - ”

Jake didn’t wait for her to finish her sentence, turning on his heel to open the door. Rooster took a step back, surprise written across his face, as he pushed past him and hurried toward his truck.

He’d fucked up, and he knew it. 

Jake hated himself, but he wasn’t sure what for - kissing Bug or leaving her. Probably a bit of both. 

But he definitely hated himself for going out of his way to avoid her. For seeing the hurt in her eyes, knowing that he caused it, and doing nothing to make it better. Actively making it worse when she sought him out - avoiding her at lunch and flirting with a woman the night Bug surprised everyone by showing up at the Hard Deck. He knew it was a dick move to walk the woman to her car, leaving her disappointed when he said goodnight without so much as a peck on the cheek. Jake knew what it looked like when he climbed into his truck and drove away rather than going back inside. He spent the rest of the night alone in bed, trying to forget the taste of Bug’s skin, only to paste on a fake smile and whistle as he strode into work the following morning. Bug hadn’t looked at him all day, but he’d definitely caught angry glances from the others.  

It had taken everything in him not to stand on the tarmac the first time she climbed back into a jet and watch the entire flight. Instead, he forced himself to play foosball with Coyote and pretended not to listen closely to her on the radio.  

If there was a benefit to Jake denying himself her company, it was that Bug was getting closer to the rest of the squad. She was eating lunch with them when he dodged her, eating outside or in his truck. She was joining them at the gym instead of sneaking away. The first day he saw her in running shorts instead of pants, Jake wanted to go to his knees in front of her and kiss every scar on her legs to let her know how gorgeous she was. 

And she’d agreed to take the last open seat at their table for the Navy Ball. 

Jake wasn’t sure if he would go until a few hours before it started when Phoenix texted that she’d castrate him if he skipped. So he ironed his dress blues and shaved, promising to leave right after the ceremony and dinner. He didn’t even get his truck washed before heading to the hotel, tossing his keys to the valet, and going straight for the cash bar. 

Phoenix and Kerri were getting pictures taken, and Jake spotted Payback and Maria chatting with Mav and Penny. Fanboy and Bob were mingling, and he didn’t want to sit at the table by himself, so he decided to circulate as well. He’d never enjoyed these nights but knew it was important to get his face out there and show that he was a good sport, especially since he’d be pinning on his gold oak leaves in a few months when he was promoted to Lieutenant Commander. 

One more step toward his goal of being an admiral. 

When he was almost finished with his whiskey neat, Jake made his way back to the bar for another but decided to wait until dinner. But as he walked away, he heard someone call him, turning to see Yale motioning him over. “What?

“Just thought I’d rub it in your face that you lost our bet,” the other man smirked, pointing behind him. Jake glanced over his shoulder, watching as Rooster led a woman to their table and pulled out her chair before collapsing into the one beside her. His arm went around her shoulders, and he tugged her in to kiss her temple. “Looks like you didn’t get Rooster to pick Bug after all.” 

“Our bet was over months ago, asshole,” Jake spat. 

“You sure about that?” 

“It was stupid to do in the first place.”

“What, you betting that you could get Rooster to be attracted to Bug?” He frowned as Yale looked over Jake’s shoulder and winked. 

“You what?” 

He closed his eyes, wishing that it wasn’t her. But when he turned, Bug stood there, shock and hurt written across her features. She looked gorgeous in a tight, floor-length navy blue dress with some type of short, glittery sleeves. He could just see the scar on her arm peeking out, and he ached to press his lips to the curve of her neck. “Bug - ”

“A bet?” 

“Yup,” Yale said, clapping a hand to Jake’s shoulder that he quickly shook off, fists clenching. He couldn’t punch him here, not in front of all the officers, but he wanted to. “All a bet.”

“It wasn’t,” Jake said, reaching for Bug. She stepped back, her red lips pressed into a thin line. “It started out that way but - ”

“Just - ” she cut him off, lifting a hand to stop him. “Just stop, please. Don’t ruin tonight for me. At least, not more than you already have.” 

“Bug - ” But she was gone, pushing through the crowd and exiting into the hotel's main lobby. Turning, he faced Yale, who smirked into his highball glass. “You’re a fuckin’ asshole, you know that?” The other man shrugged. 

“You ever think I’m doin’ you a favor? That Ladybug might not be a good luck charm but a curse? Look at the other pilots she’s been involved with - I mean, fuck. Omaha’s never G-LOC’d before, and a couple of months with her as his WSO and suddenly he’s almost crashing?” 

Aware of the eyes on him, Jake forced himself not to lift his clenched fist as he stepped closer to Yale. “You shut your fuckin’ mouth before I shut it for you.”

“Gentlemen,” Cyclone said, appearing beside them. “You’re blocking the bar.” Jake lifted his chin and stepped back, feeling the air boss’s eyes on him. 

“Sorry ‘bout that, sir,” he forced himself to say. “I’ll get out of your way.” His eyes darted across the room and saw Rooster standing up from the table. Angry, he followed the pilot, intercepting him on his way to the men’s room. “Hey!”

Rooster startled at Jake’s bark and raised an eyebrow. “Hey?”

“Why didn’t you come with Bug tonight?” 

“Bug? Why would I come with her?” 

“Because she likes you, you jackass!” 

“Me? Bug doesn’t like me, jackass. At least, not like that.” 

“Yes, she does. She’s had a crush on you since she got here.” 

“Aren’t you two dating?” The question brought Jake up short. “Everyone’s kind of thought the two of you were together.” 

“No… no, we’re not. She’s not - she likes you. We’re just friends.” 

“Wow,” the other man said, crossing his arms and smirking. “I didn’t realize what a fucking idiot you were. Bug and I are just friends - you two aren’t friends. Or, at least, not just friends.” 

“But…”

“Wow. Phoenix is gonna love this,” Rooster laughed, clapping the other man on the shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I gotta piss and then get back to my date. Maybe you should go find yours.” 

Jake stood there for a long moment, playing the last few months over in his head. It had been a while since he’d seen Bug blush whenever Rooster looked at her. And, if he thought about it, she’d always looked confused when he mentioned Rooster being somewhere as an incentive for her to go out.

And she’d kissed him back. 

Maybe…maybe what he’d taken for an adrenaline crash on her part had actually been… 

“Fuck,” he groaned, realizing that maybe Bug did actually like him. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who’d caught feelings over the last few months. And she thought he’d only talked to her because of a bet. 

She ignored his phone calls, and he couldn’t find her anywhere in the hotel. He was about to get his car back from the valet and drive to her apartment when he saw her walking back into the ballroom and had to force himself not to run after her. Bug settled at their table, taking a spot between Kerri and Maria. Both women looked at him as he stood behind Bug’s chair and leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Can I talk to you?”

“No.”

“Please?” When she turned away from him and started talking to Maria, he bit back a groan. He sighed her name and watched as a blush rose on her cheeks. 

“Maybe you should sit down, Hangman,” Phoenix said, smirking as she nodded to the seat directly across from Bug. Their squad had thrown in together to get two tables, and he was relieved to see that Yale was sitting at the other one. “Speech is about to start.” He sighed, rubbing a knuckle along Bug’s shoulder and watching the goosebumps rise. She ignored him, and he retreated to sit between Bob and Rooster’s date. Bug continued to ignore him as he stared at the pretty blush that stretched from her cheeks to her chest. He was paying so little attention that Bob had to elbow him when the color guard entered, and he saluted, not watching the guard but instead watching Bug as she stood at attention with her back to him. 

If asked, he couldn’t tell you a damn thing about what the keynote speaker said over their 45-minute speech other than hazarding a guess that it had something to do with the Navy and Marines celebrating their birthdays together. Instead, he watched Bug turn in her seat, occasionally facing him as she sipped her water. During the short break, he stood and tried to catch her before dinner was served, but she looped arms with Maria and retreated to the ladies' room.

“Didn’t think tonight would have a show with it,” Payback chuckled, sipping his beer and setting a glass of wine by his wife’s plate. 

“This is perfect,” Phoenix agreed, tapping her rum and coke against Fanboy’s. 

“Shut up,” Jake grumbled. When Maria and Bug came back, Maria tucked herself under her husband’s arm while Bug checked her phone. He caught the way her brows furrowed, and her shoulders slumped, finger hesitating over the screen before tapping it and returning it to her clutch. When her eyes lifted, they met Jake’s before flitting away to focus on the floral centerpiece. 

The same thing happened as they ate dinner. Jake had never realized how hot it could be to watch someone eat… that lipstick smudge on her water glass. When they cleared away dinner and cut the birthday cake, he grabbed them both a piece and fantasized about smearing the icing on her collarbone and licking it off. 

The DJ kicked off the music, and as soon as Bug put down her fork, he pushed to his feet and circled the table. “Dance with me?” he asked, extending his hand over her shoulder. She ignored him, as expected. Her skin was warm under his palm as he rested his hand on her shoulder and leaned to whisper in her ear. “One dance, and I’ll leave you alone. Promise.” Bug sighed, and Jake grinned when she grabbed her napkin from her lap and threw it onto the table. He pulled her chair back, chuckling when she ignored his offered hand. 

“One dance,” she said, holding up a finger before walking to the dance floor. She waited expectantly for him at the side, and he took her hand, leading her to the middle of the floor where they could hide in the crowd from their friend’s prying eyes. But even as she stepped into his arms, one hand resting on his shoulder and the other in his, she didn’t look at him. 

“Bug, I’m sorry.” When she didn’t say anything, he forged ahead. “The bet was stupid, and I made it before I really knew you.”

“When?” 

“What?”

“When did you make the bet?” 

“The Fourth of July.” He watched her lips press into a thin line as they swayed to an old song, her eyes fixed on his medals rather than meeting his eyes. Jake sighed, “We were drunk, and it was stupid, and I don’t even know why I did it. And it was before I knew that you and Yale even knew each other before this. But, what I’m tryin’ to say is that I’m sorry that I made the stupid bet, but I’m also not.”

Bug pulled them to a stop, anger flashing in her eyes as she finally looked at him. “You’re not sorry?”

“No,” he smiled, applying gentle pressure to her lower back and pulling her closer. She resisted. “You promised me one dance, Bug, and it’s not over.” Reluctantly, she stepped closer and resumed their awkward dance. “I’m not sorry, at least not entirely, because I probably wouldn’t have tried so hard to talk to you if I hadn’t been tryin’ to set you up with Rooster. You’re not the easiest person to get to know.” 

“Are you blaming me?” 

“No, just stating a fact. You avoided talking to any of us about anything other than work. If it wasn’t for the bet, I wouldn’t have gotten to know you - I’d only know Ladybug.” 

“I am Ladybug.” 

Jake smiled while saying her name, his hand lifting from her waist to trace the scar on her arm. “You’re more than Ladybug. Ladybug doesn’t read sexy books over lunch or think that apples, cheese, and crackers are a meal. She doesn’t play softball or answer her friend’s call even knowin’ he’s probably gonna hurt her. That’s all you, honey. Ladybug’s great, but I think I’m fallin’ in love with you.” 

Bug stopped for a second time, her red lips falling open as she looked at him. “What?” 

“I said, I think I’m fallin’ in love with you.” 

“Even though you were trying to set me up with your friend?” she asked after a moment. 

“If you think about it, I wasn’t really trying too hard.”

“You’ve been ignoring me for weeks.”

“‘Cause I didn’t want to see you with him, but I want you to be happy. And if you’d be happier with Rooster, then I guess I can figure out some way to break up him and - ”

“Are you serious right now?” her voice was getting louder, and they were starting to draw attention. Noticing this, Bug squared her shoulders and stepped out of his arms, storming off of the floor. Jake hurried behind her, heart in his throat as they exited the ballroom and entered the hotel lobby.

“Bug, please - ” Spinning on her heel, she marched back toward him and poked his chest. 

“You… you jackass!” 

“I’m hearing that a lot tonight.”

“You’re an idiot!”

“Heard that, too.” 

“You don’t tell someone that you ‘think you’re falling in love with them’” - she made air quotes while throwing his words back at him - “and then try to set them up with your friend.” 

“How am I supposed to know? This is the first time I’m doing this.” 

“This is - ” Bug paused, ruby lips falling open as she let out a little gasp. Crossing her arms, she cocked a hip and pinned him with a glare. “This is the first time I think I’m falling in love with someone, too, and even I know that, you idiot. It’s pretty common sense.” 

Jake’s grin was blinding, and he hesitantly reached out to wrap a hand around her waist, stepping into her space. Bug tilted her chin to meet his eyes, her lip twitching as she fought a smile. “You think you’re fallin’ in love with me, Bug?” 

“Maybe.”

“Well… maybe I don’t think I’m falling in love with you. Maybe I know I’m in love with you. I think,” he leaned down, his breath ghosting over her face as he stared at her lips. “I think maybe I knew when you nearly burned in.” 

“Maybe I knew it then, too.” 

Jake’s nose brushed hers before he kissed her. This time, it was soft. Teasing. Testing the waters. They pulled away to stare at one another for a heartbeat before Bug threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down to lick into his mouth. Jake smiled, his arms going around her waist and pulling her close, his fingers curling around the nape of her neck. And then, just like before, they were interrupted. But this time, it was by a catcall. 

“Finally!” Rooster laughed. 

“Get a room, you two!” Phoenix ordered before kissing her girlfriend’s cheek. 

Bug and Jake looked at one another, and she reached up to wipe the red lipstick from his mouth. Her cheeks were flushed, and she couldn’t quite meet his eyes when she said, “I do have one… a room. Here. If you wanted to.”

“Fuck, honey,” he groaned. “Let’s go.” Her blush deepened as she pushed onto her toes to whisper in his ear.

“So… you should know that I’ve only slept with one person. And only once. Just in case it’s not…so you don’t get your expectations too high.” 

Jake stared down at her, forcing his jaw not to drop. “Bug, please tell me he at least made you cum.” Rather than answer, she pressed her lips together tightly, and he groaned again. 

“I have so much to teach you, honey. Starting tonight. Let’s go.”

“My key’s in my clutch. At the table.” 

“Right.” He nodded, bending to kiss her again. 

“It might, um…have been a while. But I’ve read a lot,” Bug said, as though trying to assure them both. And Jake couldn’t help but smile at that.

“I know. I’ve read some of your sexy books. Want me to reenact them for you?” Bug’s breath caught, and he chuckled, pecking her lips. “Be a good girl, and wait here for me, honey.”

There was some good-natured teasing when Jake hurried to their table and snatched Bug’s clutch. He ignored it all, wanting to get back to her quickly.

But he did detour to the cake table, picking a slice with extra frosting. 

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

Author's Note: This one really got away with me, and I was shocked that I managed to write it in about 2 days. A huge thanks goes to May for beta'ing this for me and making sure that Jake still felt like Bug was interested in Rooster throughout.

I love the idea of Jake reading romance novels because his girlfriend likes them. Three that were mentioned here (in order) are: Wicked Beauty by Katee Roberts, The Kiss Quotient by Helen Hoang, and The Bromance Bookclub by Lyssa Kay Adams. You know that he would absolutely lovingly tease his partner about reading them, and then be blown away by just how much one can learn from reading smutty literature. There are definitely some book shopping trips he'll be treating Bug to in the future.

Ladybugs have historically been seen as a sign of good luck. I liked the idea of Reader having that as a callsign, as she wouldn't have anything to do with piloting the plane, but could serve as good luck for her pilot. Even in scrapes, she's there to help them out. For Risk, on his first carrier landing, she was able to keep him calm, and later in the accident, she was able to keep him stable until help arrived. For Omaha, she was able to snap him out of G-LOC by screaming his name. And for Jake? Well, ladybugs can also mean luck in love and expanding family.

A bit about the trauma in the story. Bug would meet the diagnostic criteria for post-trumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and probably should have been grounded for a little while. But disassociation from the traumatic event can help someone compartmentalize their trauma and get back to work (can attest to this from personal experience) - she was medically cleared by the flight surgeon and was back on duty. As of this posting, the Air Force is the only branch with a policy that allows aviators to get 60 days of mental health treatment without needing a return to duty waiver/clearance. Bug would have benefited from treatment, which might have further delayed her PCS and made Yale not hate her. She's not "cured" of PTSD by falling in love, but hopefully there's some therapy in her future to help her process the traumatic events. As for the G-LOC, there is no way for a WSO to take control of the aircraft, and the F-18s haven't been retrofitted with the technology to have autopilot reengage when the pilot loses control.

Risk would undergo the medical discharge process - "med board" - to be separated from the military with an honorable discharge following the accident, as he would be unable to preform the duties of his Military Occupational Specialty (MOS). I don’t imagine him as a bad guy, trying to hurt Bug, but traumatic brain injuries (TBIs) can cause emotional dysregulation and aggression that can be hard to deal with.

If you're interested, this is the dress that I imagined Bug wearing to the Navy ball (not representative of how I think she looks).

Thank you so much for reading this. If you would like to be added to my tag list, please fill out my tag list form (hyperlinked).

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[yoichiris]

love me now | itoshi rin x reader

✩ we were born in a box ✩ pro-player!rin, hurt with comfort, secret dating au

when rin first asks you to keep quiet about your relationship, you're too in love to care.

after all, many things weren't public: not the little smile he gives you when he walks into your apartment, not the way his lashes flutter in the morning sunlight, and definitely not his grunts when he pushes into you. these were sides of rin that were only reserved for you.

but the frustration builds, with every goal that rin scores, the more attention he gets, and the more faded into the background you are.

you stand in the audience, the crowd booming as the ball strains against the net where rin has just kicked it, your eyes trained on him. usually you would've cheered, but recently you've been feeling alone. and you know it's unfair, but he doesn't even look for you, completely focused on the field.

"did you see that?" you hear some guy talking to his partner next to you, voice laced with disbelief.

"fucking awesome," someone else says.

these are the moments rin lives for, you think. outplaying the opponent. making the goal in a way that doesn't allow any doubt about his skill. the set expression on his face tells you everything, that he's planned for this moment and this moment only, and it makes you sad that you've never once crossed his mind.

sometimes you watch rin's teammates run to their partners after winning a game. you try to imagine what rin would be like, if he were like that with you. would he be like bachira, who practically swings his partner over the railings? or isagi, who cups his partner's face between his hands and presses a sensual kiss to their lips?

you think harder, and the answer is probably neither.

which is how you end up standing at the gates of his apartment a few hours after his game ends, feeling apprehensive, when you know he'll return after doing his decompression, doing press, debriefing with his team.

rin's eyes change when he sees you.

"what are you doing here?" he asks, barely glancing at you, "i thought i told you always to wait for me inside."

in case someone sees us, is the unspoken part.

it made you feel special when he had given you the code to his apartment, bypassing all manners of security, having your name discreetly given to the concierge at the lobby. but all of that had been for his career, and his career only.

for rin, everything revolved around being the best at what he did. and you understood. but did you really hinder his career that much?

i don't want them to focus on something so trivial, he had told you once. you know he's talking about gossip, paparazzi, sensational headlines, not you, but you can't help but take it the wrong way. were you trivial to him?

"what are you so scared of, rin?" you ask him softly, your stance firm when he tries to redirect you past the unlocked gates.

he scowls, "what's gotten into you?"

"i don't know," you admit, not really knowing what you want to say, driven only by the feeling of loneliness in your chest, "what do you get out of this?"

the confusion flickers over his face for only a moment. always smart, he is.

"out of what? our relationship?" he retaliates, the way he says relationship making you flinch, even if his tone has barely changed.

you're scared to look at him, because you know what you're asking him to admit. i like you, he had said at the beginning of it all. his expression had been blank, but his eyes had an intensity that made you believe him. and you do.

but being head over heels in love with him as you are, thinking it'd be enough for everything... you hadn't been prepared. not for this kind of life with him.

"yeah," you mumble, quiet, "...i'm just tired of being your secret, rin."

he looks frustrated.

"you're not," he tells you, and once again you believe him, but it's just not enough. "what do you want me to do?"

you don't know. is there anything you could ask him to do? did you have the right to ask him to do everything he had already refused once to do?

you've had this conversation. once, twice. but rin's always been immovable, stubborn. and it's not like you didn't know that his career would always be his priority. so you had dropped it, thinking that you could move past it.

"nothing," you reply, voice shaking. you look down. you don't have the energy to do this a third time.

you sniffle, not yet crying. "i'm gonna go, okay?" you tell him, "it was a good game today."

he reaches out to you instinctively, long fingers circling your hand. he holds onto you for a moment, and you think for a second he'll say something. but he breaks eye contact first and lets you go.

"thanks," he says instead, "be careful on your way home."

you think that's your answer and tell him goodbye.

when you wake up the next morning, you feel completely disoriented. you think the noise you hear is your alarm clock, but you quickly realize that it's just your phone buzzing incessantly.

you sit up in bed, wondering if your eyes are deceiving you.

scrolling through the hundreds of messages in your inbox, scanning through most of the keyboard smashes, and seeing rin's name over and over again, brings you to rin's instagram.

your heart pounds as your eyes take in the picture. you've never seen it before, but you recognize the sprawl of your hair, the familiar crumple of rin's sheets around you.

he's in the frame too, his lips slightly parted at the top right, his exposed collarbone leaving nobody wondering what you two were doing. your face isn't shown, but a tap on the picture shows you that he's tagged your private instagram.

of course rin would post the raunchiest picture allowed to be posted to announce your relationship. of course he had to outdo all other relationship announcements. and of course he would do it at 2am, hours after you'd had your fight.

you can barely breathe when you scroll down to the caption.

Liked by sae_it and others

itoshi_rin love you.

your fingers shake as you swipe back to your home screen, to the rin's name on your favorites page, to call him. he answers on the third ring, his voice raspy.

"hey," he grunts, sounding like all those times you've woken up next to him, with his arm slung over your waist, his chin tucked over your form.

you snuggle into your blankets at the sound of his voice. "you have something to say to me, rin?" you tease.

"no," he says, always mean, and you imagine the slight slant of his frown. "i got practice soon. talk to you later, yeah?"

you're about to protest, but he cuts you off— "i love you."

you think he's about to hang up, but there's a moment of silence as he waits, vulnerable, for you to respond. you smile, thinking about rin holding his breath on the other end of the phone.

"i love you, too."

View all 9,782 comments

sae_it 3h ? 3892 likes Reply

isagiy 3h im gonna kill you 1092 likes Reply

bachira.megu 2h congrats!!!! FINALLY 957 likes Reply

namu_09035 1h OH MY GODHJAJHD MY HEART YOU GUYS ARE SO CUTE 567 likes Reply

__iluvu__ 1h YOURE SO HOT HOLY FUCK 372 likes Reply

[sweet1delusi0ns]

What they call you in bed ──☆*:・ﾟ

Fem!dom!reader + suggestive/smut obviously

This is for all y’all fellow doms out there😋

Characters: Naruto🦊,sasuke🗡️,Itachi🥀, kakashi🍃, kiba🐺, shikamaru🀄️,shino🪲,neji🎋,Lee🥋,choji🍥,gaara⏳,kankuro🪆

Naruto🦊-*

He’s vocal so honestly he will call you anything you want or find attractive~

He mostly calls you ma’am though, ever since he started calling you ma’am during argument he found it very hot to call you ma’am while you dom him~

Other that that it’s mostly just your name!

He loves being ‘punished’ for being bad just so he can say things like “yes ma’am~ I’ll never d-do it again AhH~” “what are you gunna do to me ma’am?~” “no ma’am I would never disobey you~” (he would)

Sasuke🗡️-*

He’s timid but kinky when it comes to you, calls you authority like names like miss or ma’am, and sometimes just your name with a whimpering tone~

“Miss…please…I need y-you” or “y/n, can you please help m-me…” is mainly how it started. He likes your authority even though you barely use it, He’s a good listener so there is no need to use your authority

Itachi🥀-*

He wants to act like all he wants to call you is just your name, but in the moment he sometimes lets a little ‘mistress…’ out

“M-mis…y/n… don’t stop please..” “what were you going to say?~” “M…mistress…” “Mmm oh I like that~”

Other then that he’s relatively quiet other than moans n cries (cutiee)

Kakashi🍃-*

Doesn’t admit it but he loves the idea of you ‘owning’ him during private moments

Naturally he calls you master sometimes but also calls you mistress as well. Sometime puts on a necklace of some sort just so you could pull on it and call him a good boy~

“I’ve been a good boy master I promisee~” “mistressssss pleaseeee i cant wait any longerrrr!” He’s not shy necessarily, he’s more shameless than confident mostly, so he isn’t scared to get your attention by calling you names only reserved for the bedroom~

Kiba🐺-*

Also calls you mistress, he does it to tease since he is VERY confident (borderline bratty honest) and he just likes the name, but also calls your name as well

“Don’t be a brat with me Kiba I’m in no mood!” “Ooo is mistress gunna get rough if I don’t listen? Ohh no!!” He openly likes it when your rough we all know. Also such a tease sometimes he just gets on his knees in front if you And start biting your thighs and when you tell him to stop he really goes “oh but y/n~ I’m not doing anything wrong though~” then continues to nibble at you until you lose it

Shikamaru🀄️-*

Mama’s he 100% calls you mama’s. Mommy isn’t his thing mama’s is more laid back he feels. So when you start pulling his hair or overstimulating him he always praises about how hot you are

“Oh god~ your so sexy mama’s~! M-more~” or “your so hot when your pinning me down mama’s~” he finds you so attractive when you dom him so he’s gotta make it known. He’s such a sweet talker😋

Shino🪲-*

He isn’t the best with names so the main pet name he calls you is also what he calls you in bed, which if flower obviously! But just because he isn’t good with names doesn’t mean his vanilla. One of his favorite things is overstimulation but that’s for another time

“I-it’s too m-much flower p-please…” or “don’t stop!!! Please flower dont stop Ahh~”

Neji🎋-*

He doesn’t like you being rough, he’s rather you be gentle and sweet, so he calls you sweetheart! Of topic but I feel like he doesn’t cuss during sex idk why but it’s cute!

“Sweetheart ngh…please c-can you go a little harder…” even though he likes it soft he sometimes wants it a litter rougher “OH~~ Gosh~ NGHH S-SWEETHEART…”

Lee🥋-*

WORSHIPPERRRRR! He can worship you ALL DAYYY so obviously he calls you ‘beautiful goddess’ or just goddess. He’s a worshipper but is so energetic to the point he doesn’t know what to do

“My beautiful goddess can I PLEASEEEEE pleasure you!! I’ll be good this time I promise!!” “Y-your so beautiful NGHh~ g-goddess please~” he’s so hyper you literally have to tie him up just so he stays still long enough for you to do anything!

Choji🍥-*

He’s also a worshipper but different from Lee, Lee can worship all day long but Choji needs diversity, one second your ‘goddess’ the next your ‘master’ and even ‘mommy’ but rarely

Also he gets very drained easily but get regain the energy when he eats, so sometimes you have to stop just to feed him which he loves “open up baby~” “yes master~” he would gladly eat off of you while calling you “goddess”

Gaara⏳-*

Mommy issuessss, he also isn’t good with nicknames but one day ‘mommy’ slipped out while you were leaving marks all over him and it stuck

He doesn’t mind you doing literally everything but sometimes he wants to help but doesn’t know how “mommy…I don’t really know what I’m doing uhm, can you show me…?” Other then that he’s a classic softy sub!

Kankuro🪆-*

Mommy issues + brattyness! He starts off all teasing and bratty. One time he dead ass called you “dommy mommy” other then that it’s either ‘master’ or ‘mistress’

I’ve said it before he loves being a bad boy so he can get punished. Punishments are expected from you. “Ooo I’ve been a bad boy master~ please pull my hair!! Tie me up!! anything!!!” “Well your not shy huh?” “Nope I just want my dommy mommy to rough me up~” “don’t ever call me that again, seriously your slutty side is showing-” “FUCKK CALL ME THAT AGAIN MISTRESS~”

[webslingingslasher]

Care less

for the frat!peter girlies.

Peter blames his aunt. 

May went and raised him to look forward to the middle of february. She would make little boxes and handwritten notes tied up with a fun-sized candy bar. May told him it was a day to celebrate love in its entirety. For a friend, for a teacher, for just the sake of love existing everywhere you went. 

Except, not everyone likes valentine's day. Some even hate it. Some would loathe the day so much that Peter feels like an idiot for caring. Dinner reservations that were going to be ignored, flowers that would go wilted and chocolates that were never going to get eaten. 

Peter has a handful of nothing and the one time he really wanted to outperform himself, it was brushed off and it was his aunt’s fault for getting his hopes up about valentine’s day. He had been so thoughtful too, planning weeks ahead to book a dinner slot and a fun date. Not to mention the mini fortune he spent on roses, not that you were a giant fan of roses but every girl deserves a bouquet on valentine’s, even if they triple in price. Peter even bought a second bunch of your favorite kind, just to prove he cared. 

It meant nothing. His efforts meant nothing and maybe he shouldn’t have assumed, but he never thought that you’d hate the holiday. It was a day entirely built around feelings, around love- and you just rolled your eyes at him. 

“I fucking hate valentine’s day.” You said it like it was nothing, taking two bites of a banana and handing it over to Peter. He asked if you were excited, maybe even hinting at that you should be excited. Peter Parker was about to romance the hell out of you. But not anymore. 

“Explain that one for me?” A toss, the peel falls into the trash can. You shrug as if you’ve never thought about it before, but it’s something you’ve held in your chest for as long as you can remember. 

“It was a holiday created by girls who didn’t feel loved enough by their boyfriends, or something. I think the practice is stupid, you should treat me good and do nice things for me everyday, not just once a year. And everything is crowded! Everyone has the same lame idea about dinner and a movie and flowers and… it’s just not something I buy into.” 

Peter feels every bit of him curl up and die inside. Valentines is his third favorite holiday, he adores the pinks, reds, and purples. He loves seeing couples of every stage, the beginning stages or lifelong partners. They all love the same; with everything in them. 

“Well, actually, I do have a confession. Chocolate covered strawberries. They’re outrageously expensive, but I buy them every year. If you’re wondering, I was hoping we could boycott the baby holiday and eat some strawberries or something.” 

A small lift in his heart, it’s something. You’d be happy with one thing and he could deliver that, but first he has to try and sway you, right? Peter needs to preach what valentine’s is about, he needs you to understand how lovely it is. 

“I’m surprised you hate it so much. I figured you’d love it, since it’s pink and feelings, and stuff.” You wink at him, you think it’s a joke and Peter’s in the same boat as you. “I know, right? It always seemed so gimmicky to me, I think.” 

“That doesn’t mean it’s bad.” You pretend gag, Peter feels his heart sink into the hollow of his chest. “You’re right, it’s cringy and that makes it so much worse.” Peter doesn’t agree, not even in the slightest. Nothing about it is cringy, there’s nothing embarrassing about showing you love someone. 

“Right. It’s cringy and a gimmick and everyone who participates is stupid.” Maybe he’s a little cynical, it hits harder when you nod with exaggeration. “So glad you agree, petey!” He doesn’t. Peter couldn’t be further away from your opinion but he’s really not in the mood to be shut down or judged, so, he just changes the subject and tries to ignore everything crumbling apart in the back of his mind. 

“Isn’t this cute?” 

You squint your eyes when you read the card, a tiny smile shows. “It’s cute. Not worth…” You snatch the glorified cardstock and flip it, your eyes widen, you pretend to choke on the dollar amount. “Ten dollars, holy shit. For some glitter? Fuck that.” 

You want it out of your hold, scared that if even a speckle spread you’d be forced to buy it. “What happened to the good old days of making your own card? My mom used to eat that up.” 

Peter delicately sets the card down, he tries to see it how you do, but he can’t. Sure, it’s wildly marked up, but wouldn’t your partner be worth the price? Peter would buy the moon for you if he could, a ten dollar Hallmark card won’t be his holdup. 

But, maybe you’d like a handmade one more. He can do that. 

Peter’s trying to be mindful of your opinion while also planting the seed that valentine’s isn’t all that bad into your brain. It’s days away and all he can hear in the back of his mind is ‘I fucking hate valentine’s day.’ 

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! Peter- do you fucking see this?” 

A romantic gesture? A public display of love and admiration? Dozens of carefully inflated heart shaped balloons? A girl crying into the arms of her friend while her partner showers her with flowers. Is it the love? Is that what you’re pointing out? 

“Yeah, it’s-” 

“Disgusting.” 

“-cute.” Peter frowns, is that what you really thought of valentines? Nothing was swaying your mind, Peter thinks that you’re more solidified in your mindset than before. 

“I’m sorry, trouble, but I’m finding it hard believing you hate valentine’s day.” It’s like he just called you a slur, you pull your hand from his and stuff it into your jacket pocket. 

“I don’t hate it, I loathe it. What do you see watching that? Personally, I’m seeing gravel covered flowers and wasted space that turns into deflated balloons. Fuck that.” Peter shakes his head, you’re seeing it wrong. “It’s about the gesture.” 

“It’s about how you love someone so much, there aren't enough things in the world to buy to show it, and there are never the right set of words to say it quite right. I’ll buy all the flowers in the world for you, and I’ll use all the air in my lungs for these balloons but it’ll never match the love I have for you.” 

Peter clears his throat. “That's what I see, anyways. I think valentine’s day is an excuse to be a little cringy and basic because we all want that sometimes.” He might’ve finally broken through, but you crack a grin and bump your shoulder into his. 

“Ah, yes, because I’m so unfulfilled that a man has never gotten me a teddy bear for valentine’s day.” Would you want one? He could get you one. Or could that be a reason you might detest the holiday, not that he’d ever take your opinion for resentment or bitterness. 

“Have you ever had a valentine?” A small stumble, your hand is tied into his again. “Besides elementary, nah. And honestly, I should be happy so I don’t have to deal with all that stuff.” 

‘I should be happy so I don’t have to deal with all that stuff.’ But, now you do, don’t you? 

“Trouble, you do realize you’re my valentine this year, right? And I’m yours?” You feel your breath catch, no, you hadn’t realized. It’s always just been another day for you and you assume the same for Peter, it’s not like there was much to celebrate. 

“It’s also just a day that ends in Y.” Is that really the answer you have? It’s just another day to you, even if you finally have someone to claim? You might not care about the holiday, but Peter does and he’s going to get his valentine’s day, no matter what. 

And you’re going to enjoy a handmade card. 

And a teddy bear. 

Peter’s finger-combing his hair after a shower, he’s had the reservation for weeks, but he also wasn’t aware of your detestment towards red hearts and arrows. 

“Wanna grab some dinner wednesday?” If he didn’t say it by name he’s hoping you won’t scream bloody mary on him. “Sure.” A smile washes over Peter’s face, it drops in a second. “Wait, isn’t that valentine’s day? Ha, yeah, no thank you. You, me, and the entire city? Fuck that.” 

‘Fuck that, fuck that, fuck that.’ Weeks boiled into nothing. “But, if you wanna cuddle and watch a movie I’m down.” It’s something. He’d get to give you flowers and a card and a teddy bear and he can’t forget the strawberries. You told him you loved them. 

“Good with me, trouble.” 

Peter tried to sway your mind, he tried to make you enjoy the love and glitter and colors. But you hated it all. So all he has to do is ditch the flowers and the dinner and just… do nothing. 

Peter’s first real valentine and all he has to do is… nothing. 

Three rose bouquets tossed onto his closet floor, it was haphazardly done. Petals scattered around the cellophane, some even reached to his shoes. They were thrown in without care, they were hidden. 

But they were beautiful. A few front buds have taken a beating, but the others were fully blossomed and lively. You’ve never seen roses in such a vivid red, their petals almost like velvet under your fingertips, their smell unlike any other. 

The thorns have been expertly shredded, nothing but smooth, soft stems in their wake. It doesn’t matter if Peter didn’t mean to have you see them, they were too gorgeous to leave locked away in a dark room. They deserved the affection water and sunlight would give them. 

You clutched all three in your arms, the weight welcomed. You laid them out nicely across his bed, the third bouquet dropped a small card and you picked it right back up. 

‘Trouble- 

This day was made for you. 

Charlie’s at 8. 

Yours, 

Peter’

You bit back a smile. Charlie’s? It’s nice, too nice. And expensive. Peter got you reservations at Charlie’s? Holding the card to your chest you nearly squeal, you have no idea how he kept the secret from you. Or the roses. 

When you hear his bedroom door open you spin, waiting for him to be in the doorway so you can place a thousand kisses. Instead it’s Ethan and he looks surprised. “You’re here?” He points to the flowers, “Peter gave you those?” 

“I found them in his closet, he just tossed them in here! And he must’ve forgotten to tell me about Charlie’s.” Ethan doesn’t smile with you, he’s not sharing any joy. For a second you start to wonder if you were the person who was supposed to receive the gifts. 

“He didn’t forget.” You scrunch your face at him, “I think he did and I need to start getting ready now. Ethan, do you know how nice Charlie’s is? It’s fucking fancy.” You’re not prepared, you don’t have anything that screams Charlie’s worthy in Peter’s closet. 

“No, you’re not hearing me. There is no Charlie’s and there weren't supposed to be roses. I was supposed to get them before you got here, but, here we are. No roses and no Charlie’s.” You smack at his arms, pulling at his fingers to drop your flowers. 

“They’re mine!” Ethan’s on a mission to steal them, and he’s not being gentle. 

“No, you didn’t want them.” 

You watch him for a second, how could he say that, of course you want them. Thirty six reminders of Peter, how could you ever say no? You fight for what's yours, Ethan allows you to keep one bouquet. 

“I do want them!” 

Ethan’s not being nice to you tonight, he’s gruff with his response. “No. You didn’t.’ 

“You keep saying didn’t! I never said I didn’t want…” 

Except you did. Just like you said you didn’t want to get dinner with Peter. You feel terrible, you feel like crying. He’d had this planned for weeks and the whole time all you did was poke fun and degrade the holiday not knowing you were crushing him behind the scenes. 

You wanted the flowers, but you didn’t deserve them. You hand over the last bouquet silently. 

“I think it’s best if you pretend you didn’t see these.” You can’t imagine the ache Peter must have in his chest, he planned something out just for you to stomp all over it. It’s not about the value, it was the gesture. He can’t tell you how he feels, but taking you out to one of the nicest places in the city, where you know it has a month minimum reservation list makes you understand him just a little bit better. 

“This is so bad, Ethan. This is so,” you suck in air, “so bad.” 

“It’s not terrible,” a crinkle when he shifts weight. “But it’s not great.” You wince, if you could, you’d go back in time and shove your foot in your mouth, or tell yourself to shut the fuck up. 

“Well, I mean, what the fuck?! It’s fucking Peter! How was I supposed to know he was pro valentines day?”

“How was he supposed to know you were anti valentines day?” 

You sink to the bed and hold your head in your hands, “I just want Peter right now.” You want to hug him and kiss him and tell him how sorry you were. Ethan hesitates for a second, before stepping closer to lay the flowers across your lap. 

“You found them. They’re yours.” You protect them from being taken, but still have self-pity. “I don’t deserve them.” Ethan scoffs, “of course you do. Everyone deserves pretty flowers.” 

You pout at yourself in the mirror and fix any smudges. Brushing out any stray wrinkles your newest dress might’ve made on the way over. Ethan had very kindly instructed a pledge to pick you up an outfit so you could change before Peter got back. 

With minutes to spare, he’s back and taking a deep breath at your appearance. “Wow.” A surprised hum when you kiss him, you wipe red from his bottom lip while you apologize. “I’m so sorry, petey.” 

“For what?” A look around the room, red roses give him the reason. “Oh. Hey, it’s no big deal and I-” A frown when you silence him by holding a finger to his lips. 

“I’m sorry. I found those flowers and all I could think about was you and how much it meant to me that you got those for me, then I saw the card and I couldn’t believe you got us reservations and I just felt… special. I’ve never had a valentine, but I get it now. It’s just a day you get to dote on me extra hard.” 

Another surprise kiss, “and if you didn’t already cancel I think we can get to Charlie’s on time. But if you did, that’s okay. Because I think those are the most lovely flowers I have ever gotten, and I might have seen a little teddy bear in there but I didn’t wanna get too presumptuous.” 

This time, Peter kissed you. “There’s also a homemade card.” 

“You didn’t!” You fall in closer to his chest, his hands can have free reign tonight, you wore the dress just for him. 

“I did. I even wrote a little poem.” 

A chaste kiss, “just when I think you can’t get better.” 

“There’s also glow in the dark mini golf planned for after.” A peck, “so thoughtful and handsome.”

A whisper, he’s got blown pupils and hoping he’d get another kiss. “And your strawberries are in the fridge.” 

Your hearts about to explode, “fuck, I love-” you stop yourself, but you heard it and so did Peter. He brushes it off, “love?” Fuck it, you’ll both keep circling around it. 

“Yeah, I love love.” 

A hungry kiss, a squeeze to the back of your thighs. “Yeah, I love love, too.” 

[coco-loco-nut]

Look for the Light

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Best Friend!Reader

Summary: You are Oscar’s best friend, but when you get sick, how is he going to cope

TW: cancer, death, grief

You will probably cry, I did while writing it at 3am

Based off of the song from Only Murders in the Building

requests are open! masterlist

———————————

Being Oscar’s best friend was the best thing you had achieved in your life, and you made sure the both of you knew it. You grew up a few houses from each other and from the moment you both met, you were inseparable. Spending your childhood on the beach, playing and having adventures of a lifetime. He never minded going to explore with you, especially the lighthouses, they fascinated you. The silent call, the notion of looking for safety, looking for the light. Oscar adored that about you, it’s why he always wanted to spend time with his best friend.

That didn’t stop when Oscar started karting, in fact, you were his number one supporter. As his career took off, he never missed a chance to hang out with you, nor you with him. Some of his friends back home throughout the years teased him about your relationship, but both of you knew that there was nothing more to it other than the tight knit bond, once that was more akin to siblings than romantic.

It was one early fall weekend that you both were on the beach, near your favorite lighthouse when you collapsed. It shifted your worlds forever. Oscar became more reserved and you spent more and more time in the hospital for treatments.

It was cancer, caught early and quickly curable, plus, you were young and healthy, at least that’s what the doctor said. That’s what you all thought. The doctor was right, at least the first time.

You stopped going to his races, falling out of the racing world’s eye, but the bond between you was stronger than ever, especially as his career took off even more. When you ended up in treatment for the second time, he was even more determined to spend time with you. Even now, he sits by your bedside watching a race. He looks at you closely, your skin losing some color and the adventurous spark dimmed in your eyes.

“I love you, Y/n. I’m scared, I can’t lose you,” Oscar admits one day. You both knew what he meant. You are basically his sister.

“Os, it’s ok. I am too, but we gotta be brave,” you choke a little, tears welling in your eyes. The spark in your eyes has all but dimmed out, you find it harder to get through each day.

Oscar is getting his first real shot at F1, but he doesn’t want to miss a moment with his best friend, the one who he has vet every girl he’s dated, because if anyone knows him best, it’s you. The one person he can keep private from his public life, he can hide your pain and suffering from his crazy world.

“It’s not fair,” his eyes well up. The air is thick, the looming darkness has been settling in, the both of you don’t want to acknowledge the truth of it.

“Oscar,” your frail hand grabs his. “I love you, you are my brother, my closest friend, and I am incredibly grateful that you are in my life. Now, adventure is calling, so go and be brave,” you give him your best smile, not wanting to waste his F1 Australia debut, in Melbourne nonetheless, worrying.

“Y/n, I’ll wait by the shore for you,” he says, and you squeeze his had tighter.

“My love is a lighthouse, look for the light,” you whisper. He glances at the clock and with a heavy heart leaves the room to go to the track. Socials think that he is just going charity visits this week since he is home, but the man is so reserved even Lando can’t get him to talk. He calls every night, and you demand to have the races on while you write in your notebook.

Your family is in the room with you, you had taken a turn for the worse overnight but you didn’t want to worry Oscar, not when the race in Melbourne was today, not when you knew what it meant to him. You finished the poem you were writing as there were ten laps left, the strength to write leaving you.

Your mom tried not to cry as she took the notebook and pen from you, your dad slipping beside you in the bed, holding onto his baby. Your mom called Oscar’s mom, who immediately picked up, knowing what the mid-race call meant.

“It’s time. She wrote to Oscar, and I don’t think she will make it past his media right after the race,” your mom chokes out, tears flowing as she hangs up and gets on the other side of you.

“Look Mom! Oscar is in the points, he made it to P8,” you smile at her weakly, your dad filming your reaction to Oscar crossing the line, but he quickly stops it when your monitor blinks irregularly. A nurse rushes in, having talked with you and your family about this moment earlier in the morning. She pushes medicine so you will be able to step into the light without pain, without suffering.

“It doesn’t hurt, I promise. Tell Oscar I love him, and thank you for every moment. I love you both, thank you for choosing me as your child and loving me forever. I will love you beyond my last breath. Look for the light. Will you sing the song to me?” You ask your mom, tears streaming down your face with a small smile.

“Hush little one, let me sing you to sleep. Moonlight has come so drift off to a dream. Sail from the day to the wonders awaiting you out there, in the deep. Off little one, chase the wind on the wave, adventure is calling so go and be brave. But if you get lost as your tossed in the dark of the sea, look for me,” your mom sings the haunting lullaby, watching your breathing slow. On the TV, the camera pans to Oscar celebrating with his team. Your eyes glimmer with happiness for the last time.

“No, baby, no,” your mom pleads, your dad pulls you tighter into him. With the last bit of energy you can muster, you squeeze their hands as your eyes close and a shuttering breath leaves your body. The screams of a mother can be heard over the flatline. The nurse unplugs your machine as another makes a phone call to Oscar’s mom, something you asked a while ago privately, knowing your parents would be too distraught. The nurses follow your wishes with heavy hearts.

———

Oscar gets back to his driver’s room with a large smile on his face, having just celebrated with the team and gone through media. The first thing he sees is his Mom’s tear stained cheeks and he drops his helmet.

“No,” he whispers.

“She’s gone, Os,” his mom cries, pulling him into a hug. His body wracks with sobs. Lando sees the two and quickly leaves, having intended on congratulating his teammate, but now going to inform the team that Oscar won’t be doing press. Lando wasn’t sure what happened, but he knew it had to be personal and that was enough.

“She’s not gone, she’s not,” Oscar says after a minute. His mom wipes a tear off and looks at him with a mix of pity, sorrow, and compassion. “NO,” Oscar yells, his grief taking over, he slumps on the couch, sobbing more. The light house trinket you gifted him years ago sits on a table, a glint of sun shining off the top, as if to provide a comfort, a goodbye.

“I’m sorry. She asked me not to talk you it got worse last night. Her mom called during the race to let me know,” his mom says gently a few minutes later. Social media buzzes as pictures of Oscar’s tear stained face as he left the paddock spreads and speculation grows, but he stays silent.

The funeral is quick, small, near the beach that is home to your favorite lighthouse. It’s more of a memorial, your family having chosen to go with a closed casket burial because you didn’t want to be remembered in that state. So here Oscar is, outside Cape Otway, sitting on a rock, your unopened letter in his hand. It’s two pages, and he hasn’t had the strength to open the folded pages. He looks at the sunset, it’s rays washing over him. The ocean seems to tell him to open the letters.

Oscar,

Words cannot describe how proud I am of you. My best friend achieved his dream, what more can I ask for? More time? No. It’s odd, writing a letter about my own death. I can only assume how you feel. I’m sorry that I left you, but I never truly did. I’m in the light, I went peacefully and painlessly, surrounded by love. The sunset you see, the stars shining on you, a ray of sunshine bouncing off of something, that’s me. Don’t wait forever by the shore for me, you don’t need to weather each storm, standing by until I return. I will always be with you. Don’t be afraid to grieve, share my light wherever you go, keep me with you and alive in spirit. I love you, my best friend and brother.

Your lighthouse, beyond my last breath,

Y/n

Oscar moves your letter behind the next, his eyes looking at the poem, this one’s writing significantly harder to read. Your weak state evident in the messy lines, but it’s perfect to him.

Os- I finished the lullaby, find comfort in it when you miss me. Look for the light

Hush, little one, let me sing you to sleep

Moonlight has come, now, drift off to a dream

Sail from the day to the wonders awaiting you out there

In the deep

Off little one, chase the wind on the waves

Adventure is calling, so go and be brave

But if you get lost as you're tossed in the dark of the sea

Look for me

I will wait at the shore for you

I will weather each storm standing by 'til

Safe, you return from the night

My love is a lighthouse

So look for the light

The light

I will wait at the shore for you

I will weather each storm standing by 'til

Safe, you return from the night

My love is a lighthouse

So look for the light

The light

Oscar sniffles, carefully pocketing the papers. He pulls out his phone and watches the video he hasn’t dared to open until now, the one your father sent to him, a smile gracing his face as he sees you cheer as he crosses the line, but it drops as he hears the beeping before the video cuts. He looks up at the lighthouse for a minute, taking a picture for his personal memorial, before returning home. He changes his helmets to include a lighthouse, refusing to put one on that doesn’t.

The drivers and the McLaren team notice a shift in the driver when he appears in Baku. Lando takes it upon himself to try and get information from Oscar but fails. Instead Oscar turns to Pierre, Mick, and Charles.

“Her name was Y/n, she was my best friend, my sister. She died shortly after I crossed the finish line in Melbourne,” tears sting the young drivers eyes as he lays out his grief to the two drivers who know his pain better than anyone. Mick encourages Oscar to share the good, not the illness. It isn’t much, but the driver’s spirit has lifted a little bit, and the four agree to share their grief with each other more often, finding a healthy outlet with each other.

Lando only praised his teammate for his strength when asked about that Melbourne day, and reiterated that private matters were just that, private. Shortly after talking with the other three, Oscar sat Lando, Andrea Stella, and Zak down and let them know the basics of what happened.

“I’m sorry man, I didn’t even know you had someone that close to you,” Lando put a hand on Oscar’s shoulder. Oscar looks at the sunset with a sad smile.

“It’s ok, she’s here,” Oscar says, a hand over the lighthouse on his helmet.

oscarpiastri 2 April 2023 • I will wait by the shore for you, look for the light

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[shelbgrey]

Hey Pookie so there is this very sexy man named Mark Sloan and I was wondering if you could write some beautiful Fluffy/Smutty dating Headcanons for him PLZ

Dating Mark Sloan headcanons

Paring: Mark Sloan x Shepherd!Reader

Summary: headcanons about Mark Sloan dating Derek's little sister -SMUT warning!

💚MasterList ML2 💚Dating Mood board

You guys started fake dating... That's how it all started. He wanted to make Addison Jelouse and you just want to get back at her for hurting your brother Derek.

You had 10 rules to this plan:

NO Sex - you

Never break rule #1 - you

Be on Mark's services/work in plastics if needed -Mark

Go on dates at least twice a month to make the act look real - Mark

No kissing or touching - if you have to just kiss forehead/cheek and don't touch anything below the waist - you

No sex with nurses, Mark - it'll blow the cover - you

Be nice to my friends(I don't care if you hate interns) - you

Trust each other - mark

Don't play favorites in the hospital - includes not helping with most surgeries/patients - you

Don't fall in love with each other - you

Derek hates it at first, even during the time you guys were faking it all. “stay away from my sister” Derek snapped at mark.

“too late... We're already together”

Derek and Mark got into a fight... That ended with black eyes, bruises, and Mark needing stitches on his face.

“I'm sorry this happened” you mumbled softly as you stitched his jaw for him. He stared at you with those blue eyes you love so much. “don't worry about it”

“maybe we should stop this whole thing” you suggested, Mark shook his head. “no, we got this. Rule #8, remember?” but really he was already falling so hard for you and he wanted to keep you close as long as possible.

Spoil alert you guys broke rule #10 and fell hard for each other. Well he fell first, but you fell harder. “I want this for real... No more fake shit, I love you”

After that ordeal you figured you owed Derek an explanation. Derek never found out about the fake dating, but you need to tell him where your feeling stand. “you love him, don't you?” Derek asks.

“I do... And I trust him” you say.

“if he hurts you... Cheats on you, I'll kill him” simply Derek said and you guys moved on with your lives.

Once you guys start dating for real he faithful and his heart now belongs to you.

Even Derek gave him credit for that. During the few months of you guys actually dating, deek would keep an eye on him. A hot nurse would walk by and Mark wouldn't even look at her.

You see a different side to Mark. He stops looking at any other woman. He just looks at you.

His sweeter, gentler side is only reserved for you.

Callie is your biggest supporter. Always hyping your relationship up. Mark might go to her for relationship advice. Callie might even be a referee during arguments.

Callie is definitely your best friend. You, Mark, and her the hospital's main trio.

Double dates with Callie and Arizona or Derek and Meredith.

He needs physical contact all the time. Rather it be cuddling on bed or on the couch or holding hands in the hospital.

He's a big cuddler. Sometimes he'll just wrap his arms around you and pull you to his chest without saying anything.

He's so flirty with you. No matter how many years you've been together, he still thinks you're the sexiest, most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

Like I said, he flirts with you so much. Some times he'll come up behind you while your working and whispere suggestive comment in your ear or grab your ass.

“stop it! We're at work” you quietly scolded him after his gabered your ass. “I can't help it... You have a nice ass”

You steal his leather jacket all the time, even though it looks big on you he thinks it's hot as hell on you. Now and days the only time he sees that jacket is if your wearing it.

Dirty jokes all the time. If you hear something remotely dirty you'll whisper, “that's what she said”

If he's had a hard day, he either needs one of two things. A rough fuck or he needs to curl up beside you and cuddle.

The way he kisses you makes your heart race. He holds your face in his hands and you honestly feel like you and him are the only things that matter in the world.

But he is a rough kisser, but mostly he's a passionate kisser. He pours all his love and emotions into it, he makes sure your the only one on this earth he wants to love.

He's soft with you when it comes to holding you and give affection. He's so gentle and delicate and you can tell through the way he brushes your hair from your face or the way he nuzzles his face into your neck that he just absolutely adores you.

Your is Angel and he feels so unworthy of you. He's so lucky to have you in his life and he doesn't want to screw it up.

Mark's not the jelouse type and neither are you. Dispite his man-whore past you both have a lot of trust in your relationship, but if you be-friend Jackson I think Mark would get jelouse.

Mark hates the way Jackson looks at you, Mark knows he likes you. But your completely oblivious to it because all you see is Mark.

Doggie parents at the beginning of your relationship. You brought home a rotwiler puppy home without him knowing one time.

That dog is your protector rather or not Mark is there or not. He also gets jealous of Mark and will nuzzle his way between you too if your hugging or kissing.

Sometimes you guys will get home so late from the hospital you'll just want to set on the couch and watch TV because your both sleep deprived.

You guys really don't know why or how you got into it, but you found a Chanel that shows re-runs of American Ninja Warrior and old WWE matches. You guys just stated watching them all the time.

He calls you Angel

You guys play wrestle all the time. Sometimes he'll just let you win because he loves seeing you being so happy about.

He steals the covers all the time and if you get cold you'll cuddle closer to him to get warm. He's relized this, so he'll intentionally steal the covers just to have extra cuddle time.

You get upset if he makes the interns that are on his service get him coffee or get his dry cleaning. “they aren't your servants, Mark” you say, taking the money back from the intern.

If you want Mark to do that stuff himself, you have to threaten to do it yourself. “I'll get it, I'm going that way anyway” you say and mark will quickly stop you. “no, no, I'll do it... You don't have to do that crap for me”

You guys don't fight often, but if you do it's usually a couple of days of the silent treatment. Both of you are too stubborn to say sorry or admit your wrong too.

Watching old Universal monster movies, your favorite is The Bride of Frankenstein. You even got him to dress up at the two monsters with you on Halloween one time.

If your sick he'll drop everything and take care of you, he doesn't care if he catches whatever you have he wants you comfortable and cared for.

His apartment getting the 'girlfriend touch', everything is just cleaner and more organized when you start living with him. “where's my belt?” Mark asked looking all over the bedroom floor where it used to be.

“in your dresser where it's supposed to be... And if I step on it one more time it's going in the trash”

✨Passenger princess✨

If you have a Stanley or a water bottle, whatever you drink out of, Mark will probably be drinking out of it too. You guys kiss and have sex all the time, so he doesn't care if he drinks after you.

NSFW headcanons:

He’s an expert at foreplay. He’ll spend as much time as he can trying to get you hot and bothered or worked up.

He has a tendency to grip the headboard when he's close to cumming.

He has this mischievous kind of charm to him and he uses it to his advantage when it comes to getting your attention. He knows all your ticks and can easily get your riled up.

Mark loves bitting your neck just to hear you moan. When you finally give in to him, he'll lay you down on the couch or bed and start pealing your clothes off to reveal your chest.

He's definitely the dominant person in bed and your not complaining, he'll get rough and pound hard enough were the bed starts rocking.

The sex maybe rough, but Mark isn't not big on insults. He refuses to degrade you and will only use sweet words.

If you���re struggling to take him in or taking long to adjust, he’ll whisper reassurances that you’re doing a good job while rubbing his hands on your back and thighs.

He prefers missionary, growling in your ear while his hands grip yours above your head.

Mark also loves watching your face while you bounce up and down his dick. He loves the expressions you make when he thrusts up into you when you least expect it.

Mark just likes to lay back and just watch you ride him, he loves the feeling of your thighs and ass in his hands.

He's a soft/mean Dom, it just depends on his mood. But no matter what he always makes sure your comfortable. He loves to take control in the bed but would never push you.

He loves the sounds you make. The moaning, the begging, everything.

Loves eating you out,your legs around his head. He loves your legs in general and loves leaving kisses on the insides of your thighs. He'd rather pleasure you for hours than receive.

He has big chocking kink, he won't be too rough about but he loves wrapping his fingers around your neck and feeling your pulse when he's ramming into you.

He love getting head. I feel like he’d like having you on your knees. Plus, feeling your lips around him pushes him closer to cumming in your mouth.

Bondeg kink, handcuffs, his ties, belts, he'll tie you up with anything if your comfortable with it.

There's also a tone of jealous sex. If he sees Alex shamelessly flirting with you expected to be tied to bed as fucks your brains out. If he sees Jackson touch you in a way thats reserved only for him you’re pinned against the wall.

There has been a couple of times Derek has walked in on you while you both are getting it on in one of the on-call rooms, it's safe to day Derek has lernd to knock.

“Mark, he literally saw it” you gasped from under mark.

He kissed your neck. “I was too busy to notice”

This man is amazing when it comes to aftercare. He knows exactly what you need. After your both cleaned up, he'll pull you to his chest to cuddle.

[starlitmelanin]

ᡣ𐭩ྀི make-believe; j.bellingham

pairing - jude x fem!reader

word count - 3k

warnings - none

summary - you and jude had broken up, decided to go your separate ways, but now you're both forced to play nice for an adidas ad.

you knew this day was coming.

the email landed in your inbox a week ago, the subject line so innocent, so unassuming: adidas shoot - schedule update.

you almost deleted it out of reflex, your heart dropping the moment you recognised the sender. but you clicked it anyway, because you knew better than to ignore reality.

"we've got an exciting shoot coming up with some of our top athletes," the message read, all corporate cheerfulness, "including you and jude bellingham! can't wait to see the magic you two create together."

magic. right.

you hadn't seen jude since it happened, since the two of you had ended things with a mutual understanding that felt more like mutual devastation. the kind of breakup where there's no yelling, no slamming doors, just a quiet acceptance that what you had was too complicated, too much for either of you to carry any longer.

but it wasn't any easier for that. in fact, it might've been harder. because you couldn't even hate him. you couldn't even scream or cry or blame him for anything. you were just... sad. sad in a way that sat heavy in your chest, that didn't go away no matter how many times you told yourself it was for the best.

and now, here you are, standing in the studio with the lights too bright and the air too cool, dressed head-to-toe in adidas gear, waiting for jude to show up.

you can feel the tension building in your shoulders, the nerves twisting in your stomach. you're trying to remind yourself that it's just another day at work, just another shoot, but it's not. not when he's involved.

you hear him before you see him, the familiar sound of his voice as he greets someone at the entrance, that same tone that used to make your heart skip a beat. you don't turn around right away, too busy pretending to adjust the fit of your jacket, but when you finally look up, there he is.

jude's standing there, just a few feet away, looking as good as ever, and it's like air is being sucked right out of your lungs. you thought you were prepared for this, thought you'd built up enough of a wall around your heart to keep it together, but the moment you see him, that wall cracks, just a little.

he looks... different. maybe it's just the distance, the time that's passed, or maybe it's the way he's holding himself, more reserved, more cautious. but his eyes still find yours, and for a split second, everything else fades away. it's just the two of you, caught in that familiar yet unspoken connection that never really went away.

"hey," he says, his voice softer than you remember, almost hesitant.

"hey," you reply, and it's too casual, too normal for what this moment really is. but you don't know what else to say, how else to greet the person who used to be your everything.

before either of you can say more, the director claps his hands, drawing everyone's attention. "all right, let's get started! y/n, jude, we're going to start with some paired shots, just the two of you. we want to capture that chemistry, that connection you both have as madrid's star players."

you almost laugh at the irony, but it sticks in your throat, coming out as a forced smile instead. you nod, falling into step with jude as the crew starts directing you both, positioning you in front of the camera.

the first pose isn't too bad. you're standing side by side, arms crossed, the standard tough athlete look. it's easy enough to slip into character, to pretend like everything's fine. but then the director starts asking for more.

"can you two get a little closer? jude, put your arm around y/n's shoulders, like you're celebrating a win together."

it's such a simple request, something you've done a hundred times before, but now it feels like the hardest thing in the world. still, you nod, forcing your body to move as jude steps closer, his arm brushing against yours before he rests it on your shoulders.

the contact sends a shiver through you, a reminder of all the times you used to lean into him, used to find comfort in his touch. but now, it feels different. awkward, forced, like a ghost of something that used to be real.

you keep your smile plastered on, staring straight ahead at the camera, but you can feel jude's tension too, the way his grip on your shoulder isn't as relaxed as it used to be, how he's holding back. and it makes everything worse because it's a reminder that he's just as affected by this as you are.

"perfect, perfect!" the director calls out, oblivious to the silent struggle happening between you. "now, y/n, turn towards jude, like you're about to high-five him, but stop just before your hands meet. we want to capture that anticipation, that energy."

you don't even know what that means, but you do as you're told, turning to face jude, your hand hovering in the air between you. he mirrors your movement, and now you're standing so close that you can see every detail of his face, the lines of stress around his eyes, the way his lips are pressed into a thin line.

the silence stretches between you, and for a moment, it feels like the whole world has shrunk down to just this, just the space between your hands, the weight of everything unsaid. your heart is pounding in your chest, your breath coming a little faster, and you're terrified that he can hear it, that he knows how much this is affecting you.

"great, hold that! now, jude, how about you pull y/n in for a side hug, like you're celebrating together again?"

you blink, your smile faltering for just a second before you catch yourself. this is too much, too close, too soon. but you don't have much of a choice, so you force yourself to move, stepping into jude's space as he wraps an arm around you.

it's stiff, weird, nothing like the way it used to be. and you can tell he feels it too, the way his body is tense, how his touch is light, as if he's afraid to hold on too tight, afraid of what might happen if he does.

you try to relax, try to let yourself sink into the moment, but it's impossible. because all you can think about is how wrong this feels, how much it hurts to be this close to him and yet so far away.

"beautiful! now, y/n, lean your head on jude's shoulder, like you're sharing a moment after a big win."

the director's voice feels like nails on a chalkboard, and you have to fight the urge to tell him to stop, to leave you alone. but you don't. instead, you follow his instructions, tilting your head to rest on jude's shoulder, your heart in your throat.

the scent of him hits you, familiar and comforting, and it takes everything in you not to let your eyes close, not to let yourself get lost in the memories that flood your mind. you can feel jude's breath hitch, just for a second, and you wonder if he's feeling the same thing, if the weight of this moment is crushing him too.

"and... got it! that's a wrap on this setup!"

the words are a relief, but also a disappointment. because even though this is torture, part of you doesn't want it to end, doesn't want to step away from him and go back to pretending like everything's fine, like you're over it.

but you have to. so you pull away, stepping back as jude's arm drops from your shoulders, the distance between you growing again. you glance up at him, catching his eyes for just a moment, and the look there makes your chest ache.

"you okay?" he asks, his voice low, just for you.

you nod, but it's a lie, and you both know it. "yeah. you?"

"yeah." another lie.

the director is already moving on, calling for the next setup, oblivious to the tension that hangs in the air like a storm cloud. you and jude follow along, moving like you're on autopilot, but it's clear that the magic they were hoping for isn't there. not really.

the next few poses are just as bad, each one requiring you to get close, to touch, to pretend like everything's fine when it's not. and with each one, the facade gets harder to maintain, the cracks in your armor growing wider.

finally, after what feels like an eternity, the director calls for a break, and you all but collapse onto a nearby bench, your head in your hands. you can feel jude's presence next to you, but you can't bring yourself to look at him, not now, not when you're so close to breaking.

"y/n," he says softly, and you can hear the concern in his voice, the guilt.

"don't," you whisper, shaking your head. "not here."

he doesn't push, but you can feel his frustration, his helplessness. and it's almost worse than if he had tried to talk to you, because it means he's feeling it too, the weight of this, the impossibility of pretending like nothing's changed.

the break doesn't last long enough.

before you've even caught your breath, the director is calling you back, his voice echoing through the studio like a bad dream. you don't want to get up, don't want to face jude again, but you don't have a choice. this is your job, your life, and sometimes that means swallowing the pain and pushing through it.

when you stand, jude's already on his feet, watching you with that same look he had earlier—like he wants to say something, like he's waiting for the right moment. but there's no right moment, and there won’t be. so you just walk past him, heading back to the set, feeling his eyes on your back the entire way.

"alright, now we're thinking something dynamic," the director explains, too excited for his own good. "like jude lifting y/n off the ground, both of you laughing, like you've just won a big tournament or something."

you almost laugh at the absurdity of it. the idea of jude lifting you, holding you close, laughing like nothing's wrong—it feels like a cruel joke. but you nod anyway, because what else can you do?

you take your position, standing in front of jude. the director is giving more instructions, telling jude how to wrap his arms around your waist, how to make it look effortless, but you can't focus on any of it. all you can think about is how this is going to hurt in ways you can't even begin to prepare for.

when jude's hands settle on your waist, it's like a jolt of electricity shoots through you, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe. his touch is gentle, almost too gentle, but it's the tenderness that cuts the deepest.

"on three," the director says, his voice distant, like it's coming from underwater. "one, two, three!"

jude lifts you, just like he's supposed to, and you feel the ground disappear beneath your feet. for a split second, it's almost like it used to be—before everything fell apart. the way he used to hold you like you were the most precious thing in the world, like you were worth protecting.

you're supposed to laugh, supposed to act like this is fun, but the sound that comes out of your mouth is hollow, forced. you don't know how jude manages to smile, how he keeps up the act, because all you want to do is scream, to tell everyone to stop, that this is too much, too painful.

but you don't. you just hang there, suspended in jude's arms, pretending like this is just another day, like you're not dying inside.

"perfect, perfect! that's exactly what we needed!" the director's voice is too loud, too cheerful, and it grates against your nerves. you want to tell him that this isn't perfect, that nothing about this is perfect, but the words stick in your throat.

when jude finally sets you down, you're unsteady on your feet, your legs shaky. you take a step back, putting distance between you, but it's not enough. the damage is done. the wound has been ripped open.

you glance at jude, and the look in his eyes tells you everything. he's hurting too, more than he's letting on. but he's also resigned, like he knows there's nothing either of you can do to fix this, like he's accepted that this is just the way it has to be.

"we'll take five," the director announces, already moving on to the next setup, oblivious to the emotional minefield he's just dragged you both through.

you nod, barely acknowledging him, and walk off the set, needing to be alone, needing to breathe. jude doesn't follow you this time, and you're grateful for it. you don't know what you'd say if he did. you don't know how to explain the mess of emotions swirling inside you, the pain of being so close to him and yet so far away.

you find a quiet corner of the studio, out of sight of the crew, and lean against the wall, your head tilted back as you try to keep it together. but the tears are already welling up, and you hate yourself for it, for being this vulnerable, this broken.

it wasn't supposed to be like this. you and jude were supposed to be the ones who made it, who figured it out. but life had other plans, and now you're stuck here, pretending like everything's fine when it's anything but.

you wipe at your eyes, trying to compose yourself, but it's no use. the emotions are too raw, too fresh. you can still feel jude's touch on your skin, still hear his voice in your head, and it's all too much.

you're so lost in your thoughts that you don't hear him approach. it's only when he speaks that you realise he's standing right in front of you.

"y/n..."

you look up, and there he is, his expression a mix of concern and something else. you want to tell him to leave, to go back to the set and let you deal with this on your own, but the words won't come.

"i'm sorry," he says, and the sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten. "i didn't think it'd be this hard."

"me neither," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

he takes a step closer, hesitating like he's not sure if he should, like he's afraid of crossing a line that's already been blurred too many times today. "i... i still care about you. that hasn't changed."

his words hit you like a heavy blow, and you have to look away, your eyes focusing on the floor because you can't bear to look at him right now.

"jude, don't," you manage to say, your voice shaky. "please, just... don't."

he sighs, running a hand through his hair, frustration etched in every line of his body. "i don't know what to do, y/n. i don't know how to make this better."

you wish you had an answer for him, but you don't. because there isn't one. some things just can't be fixed, no matter how much you want them to be.

"maybe it's not supposed to be better," you say, your voice barely holding steady. "maybe this is just... how it has to be."

the words hang in the air, final and unchangeable, and you know they're true, even if you don't want them to be. whatever you and jude had, it's gone now, and no amount of pretending is going to bring it back.

he nods, his eyes dropping to the floor, and you can see the defeat in his posture, the way he's finally accepted that this is the end.

"we should get back," you say, needing to put distance between you, needing to end this conversation before it destroys you completely.

he doesn't argue, just follows your lead as you both make your way back to the set, the silence between you deafening.

the rest of the shoot goes by in a blur. you're going through the motions, doing what's asked of you without really thinking, without really feeling. it's easier that way, easier to disconnect, to shut down.

and jude... jude is the same. distant, reserved, like he's put up his own walls to protect himself from the hurt. you don't blame him. you've done the same.

when it's finally over, when the director calls it a wrap and the crew starts packing up, you feel a wave of relief wash over you. it's done. you survived. but that relief is tinged with sadness, with the knowledge that nothing's really changed. the pain is still there, still as fresh as it was when you first saw him this morning.

you grab your things, eager to get out of there. but as you're about to leave, he catches your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

"y/n," he says, and there's something in his voice, something that makes you pause.

you turn to look at him, and for a moment, you see the boy you fell in love with, the one who made you believe in forever.

"take care of yourself," he says, his voice soft, almost tender.

you nod, not trusting yourself to speak. because there's no closure here, no neat ending, no goodbye that makes everything okay. there's just this—this messy, painful, complicated thing that you and jude have become.

"you too," you finally manage to say.

he gives you a small, sad smile, and then he lets you go.

and just like that, it's over. you walk away, your heart heavy, your mind racing with everything you wanted to say but couldn't.

because this isn't a movie, and there's no script to follow.

it's just... done.

[sugawarassoulmate]

something about sugawara just screams free use to me 🥴

omg it feels so long since i've used these pictures lmao

word count: 685

cw: fem!reader, dub-con, consent implied, free use, public sex, somnophilia, oral (f receiving), minors dni

he just likes having you whenever and wherever he wants. it's hard to tell him no when he makes you feel so good.

you could be talking on the phone with a friend and here comes suga settling himself between your legs. rolling your eyes, you already know what's on his mind and try to focus on the conversation when you feel him take off your shorts and underwear to eat you out.

it's hard to maintain focus when he's sucking your clit like he needs it to survive but he'll scold you for hanging up on your friend so rudely.

but he won't stop until you're whining on the phone or you end the call and buck into his mouth to get yourself off. he has a habit of torturing you that way.

at least that's better than the time he walked into the dressing room where you were trying on clothes.

"kou—" you whispered-yelled but it didn't stop suga from lifting up your skirt and pushing your panties aside.

"you looked so pretty showing me all your outfits," he said, stroking his cock before sinking into the warmth of your cunt. "you'll let me play with you a little bit, yeah?"

he doesn't give you much time to think before he starts fucking you right there in the fitting room.

suga covers your mouth so you can't protest - or cry out from the pleasure and alert the closest employee.

"we should keep this dress, baby," he says sweetly, tugging at the top to make your breasts spill out. "it fits you so well. like a glove."

he hits that spot that turns your legs into jelly and, even with his hand on your mouth, a shrill cry escapes you.

suga slows down his thrust, never fully stopping, when he hears the quiet sounds of footsteps outside the door. "is everything alright?" the associate asks with a knock.

"we're fine! she just got her hair stuck in a zipper," he said confidently. even behind a door, he can still charm anyone he meets.

"ok, if you need any help, i'll be around!" the employee says before walking away.

you're not sure if it's the thrill of being caught or your embarrassment that eggs suga on but that brief interaction just makes him fuck you harder.

he's at his most devious when he catches you sleeping on the couch, a paused youtube video that has long since been forgotten on the tv.

this happens a lot. you'll take naps during the day when you're too tired from cooking, cleaning, or doing your own work while you wait for sugawara to come home.

when suga catches you in these moments, his favorite thing to do is position you on your back and pull your shorts down.

he never tries to be discreet - suga enjoys waking you up with his cock. he loves seeing your sweet face contort in pleasure even in slumber.

"feels good doesn't it baby," he whispers into your skin, fucking you just as hard and deep as he would if you were conscious. "making me happy even when you're sleepy, i'm so lucky."

suga doesn't just stop at fucking you, he's rubbing his fingers against your clit and using his free hand to pull your top down to suck at your tits.

he won't stop until you've woken up, which usually happens when you're about to cum. you'll start breathing heavily and paw at suga's arms in a desperate attempt to grasp onto something.

"k-kou? kou—oh god," you whine, thighs trapping suga as pleasure racks through your still sleepy body.

you came around him, body shaking the entire time and suga could live off of it. he loves having you as his plaything that he can dump his cum into over and over again.

suga doesn't bother cleaning you up after both of you come. usually, he would but instead, he pulls your panties back on and kisses you.

"get some rest, babe. gonna fuck you again in an hour," he says and suga has always been a man of his word.

©sugawarassoulmate 2023 all rights reserved - please do not repost/translate my work on other platforms!

[lovebugism]

✶ ┄ FIX IT !

summary: you thought you were over it, the whole steve-and-nancy thing. spoiler alert: you aren't. pairing: steve harrington / f!reader word count: 3.5k warning: angst. gut wrenching angst. with a sort of happy ending. a/n: i'm such a sucker for angst it's gotta be unhealthy at this point. anyway, shout out to all my angsty fic enjoyers. let's read this and cry together <3

Having four roommates and only two bathrooms was worth it if it meant getting out of Hawkins. The apartment was a quaint little thing just outside of Indianapolis — up four flights of stairs with no elevator, cracks in the walls, and a stellar view of an alleyway.

But it was nice to have a place all your own. Sharing it with all your best friends was even better. That was the dream after all, wasn’t it? And being with Steve — that was just the cherry on top of it all.

So you weren’t going to let your mean, green, and envious heart ruin the new life you and your friends were trying to build in this tiny apartment.

You didn’t even think yourself the jealous type. Not until you realized that Steve was going to live under the same roof as his ex-girlfriend. It was dumb and it was irrational and you just couldn’t shake it.

It was probably a whole lot harder for Steve than it was for you, really. Besides, it had been years since they were together. Both of them had moved on, both of them had new and blossoming relationships.

Jonathan was good to Nancy. And to you, Steve was… well he was perfect. More importantly, he was yours. 

So it really shouldn’t bother you.

And it didn’t. Not for a while. 

Not until Nancy and Jonathan broke up out of nowhere and he’d announced to all of you on movie night that he was moving out.

He said that he missed California too much, that Argyle was getting lonely all the way out there, and that he had a spare room at his place. You couldn’t tell if that was the truth or just some bullshit excuse.

Maybe both.

What made it worse is that Nancy hadn’t seemed all that upset about it. Hell, you were more sad about him leaving than she was.

She told you as much during your weekly designated wine night (the one where you and her and Robin got drunk on cheap wine, while the rest of the boys fucked off and got drunker on cheaper beer).

“It didn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would,” she’d confessed with a shrug, only slightly tipsy and cheeks pink with it. “We… drifted apart, I guess. Just felt right to end it.”

You and Robin spent the rest of the night comforting her, anyway.

She loved Jonathan, everyone knew that. It sort of came with the whole shared trauma thing. She had to be at least a little bit sad that her person was gone, but she hid it away from the rest of you like it was her job.

But when the days got really bad, and she found herself missing Jonathan more than she liked, she sought refuge in Steve. Your Steve. 

And it made sense. He knew her better than the rest of you.

But it didn’t mean it hurt any less.

A sick feeling twists in your stomach when Steve accompanies the girl on a liquor store run without her having to ask. You watch with your heart in your throat when he leaves with her in the dead of night — a swirling bubble of jealousy in the pit of your chest with an ache so palpable you can taste it.

You spend the next several minutes trying not to look as sad as you feel while Eddie can’t stop debating on what the two of them might be talking about.

Nancy had been more reserved as of late, carrying a rain cloud over her as she wandered through the apartment like a ghost — he concludes they’re just going out to spill some hot goss. Robin makes him promise to never say those string of words ever again while you quietly dismiss yourself to your bedroom.

Nancy and Steve have been gone for an hour.

Lying in the dark and staring up at the textured, water-stained ceiling, you start to do the math. Fifteen minutes there, fifteen minutes back with traffic — but the streets are usually bare after nine o’clock. Either way, that leaves a half hour spent trying to choose what alcohol to splurge on.

You’ve seen Nancy try to pick out wine, she’s indecisive and a perfectionist to boot. She could spend hours dissecting each bottle to find the perfect one, if Robin wasn’t constantly over her shoulder rushing her.

Maybe that’s why Nancy had declined when the girl offered to tag along with them.

Or maybe she just wanted to be alone with Steve—

You have to physically shake that thought from your head. But even when you shut your eyes, it’s like the image of him and Nancy making out in the back of her Station Wagon is ingrained in the depths of your mind.

You curl into yourself and bathe in the depths of the dark abyss you’ve created in your bedroom, trying to see your way out of your handcrafted turmoil like a bad cold.

When Nancy and Steve return, they come cradling paper bags in their arms like babies.

Robin relieves the latter of the load in his hands and follows the darker-haired girl into the kitchen connected to the living room, no larger than a decent-sized closet.

Steve notices the lack of your presence as soon as he walks through the door. When he’d left, the three of you were pregaming — a feat that often led to Eddie breaking out his guitar and you and him singing terribly off-key to whatever was playing on the radio.

Now you’re nowhere to be found, and he feels it like a missed meal. He feels the ache of your absence like an empty stomach.

“Where’d she go?” Steve asks Eddie, who’s lounging on the couch and taking up the entire space — legs spread and arms thrown over the back.

The curly-haired boy takes a noisy sip of his nearly gone beer. Then exhales rather dramatically when he sits the can on his thigh. It leaves a damp ring on the denim. “Hey, buddy... Just blow in from stupid town?”

“…What?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, already annoyed and knowing more than he lets on. “She’s in her room, dingus.”

“She okay?” Steve wonders with furrowed brows, uncaring of the use of the stupid nickname because there’s bigger things to worry about apparently.

It wasn’t like you to miss a night of drinking. He gets momentarily fearful that you’d gotten sick while he was away, that he wasn’t around to help you if you had.

“Why don’t you ask her?” Eddie lilts with wide eyes, like it’s a bright idea that neither of them would’ve thought of otherwise.

His sarcasm makes Steve roll his eyes, but he heeds the boy’s words anyway.

Through the short hallway and the last door on the right, he finds you in the darkness of your shared bedroom, illuminated only by the orange streetlight that filters through the blinds. You're hid beneath the covers, a little lump on the mattress. 

He idles in the doorway and waits for you to react to his presence.

You don’t.

“Hey, babe,” he greets cautiously after concluding you just hadn’t heard the door squeak open upon his arrival. “You feel okay?”

You mumble something he can’t quite make out. He takes the raised infliction as an affirmative and shifts his weight on his feet because it’s unlike you to be so one-note with him.

“Well, I, uh— I bought some of that wine you like... I couldn’t remember if you liked the blackberry or blueberry, so I ended up just getting both, you know, just in case.”

“Okay,” you respond after several agonizing seconds. Your voice sounds so fragile in the still darkness. Like he didn’t already know something was wrong.

He so desperately wants to pry but chooses to err on the side of caution for now, out of fear of turning the bad, worse.

“You wanna come down and try it with me? If you don’t like it we can always go back—”

“I’m okay,” you interrupt gently, with a tone so soft and coated with so much emotion that it makes his heart sink. You’re anything but and he knows it.

“Okay,” he nods anyway with the hope that he can pull you from this funk you’d managed to fall into. “Do you, uh… Do you want me to stay in here with you?”

He hears your deep sigh and sees the way the wad of blankets rises and falls again. A telltale sign of your annoyance. He knows then that he’s overstayed his welcome.

Your voice remains quiet but loses its kindness when you tell him: “You can do whatever you want, Steve.”

He’s hurt by the way you’re so suddenly short with him, then angered because he didn’t do anything to deserve it in the first place.

“Okay, what’s wrong with you? What did I do?”

You don’t answer. You just sigh again, the same really big, dramatic one that’s more to showcase your irritation with him than anything else.

You’re more than keen to end the conversation right there, but Steve isn’t. Not when something’s eating you away from the inside out and he can’t do anything to help you because you won’t let him. 

“Babe, c’mon. I get it, alright? You’re mad at me. Just tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it.”

“You can’t fix it,” you monotone, stifled beneath the covers.

“I can’t fix it?” he repeats with furrowed brows. “What do you mean, I can’t fix it?”

You use your silence as an answer, as a weapon. It’s almost worse than any silver-tongued reply you could've given him. The quiet forces him to think for himself and imagine all the things he could’ve done wrong that he can’t take back. It feels like quicksand.

Did he forgot to kiss you good morning? Of course, he didn’t — actually, he gets mad at you for forgetting — and you were golden before he left. Eddie probably said something stupid, that was likely. Or maybe Robin made a joke that upset you, that was even more likely. 

He figures it’s something in between all those. Something silly that feels like the end of the world. He can make it better. He always makes it better.

Steve lifts the lump of covers you shield yourself with and crawls beneath them with the intention of pulling you out of the void you’ve sunken into.

It’s not so comfortable, lying in bed in socks and jeans and a collared shirt, but he doesn’t need to feel good right now — you do. He’ll be content if he can just hold you in his arms for a couple of hours, the rest of the night if that’s what you need.

But he can’t even do that.

He reaches for your arm, fingers just barely trailing across the warm skin there, and you jerk away from him like he’s shocked you.

It startles him, how quick you are to avoid him. It has him jerking back too, because you’ve never denied him the opportunity to touch you. He becomes the same sort of storm cloud that you are now, because he doesn’t know what he did to deserve this. Any of it.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks you, less soft than he’d been before.

You sniffle. “I told you I didn’t want you going out alone with Nancy anymore,” you mumble, face still shoved into your pillow. The words are slightly muffled but he can hear the tears that coat your voice. 

“That’s what this is about?” he wonders, not as empathetic as you’d hoped he might be, but genuinely confused. With your back to him, you don’t see the smile pulling at his lips while he shakes his head, like it’s funny to him. “Babe, we were just getting drinks. It’s no different than you going out with Robin.”

“It’s totally different! Because I was never in love with Robin. She was never in love with me—”

“Well, I beg to differ,” he murmurs in a soft laugh.

“It’s not funny, Steve,” you retort wetly and then sniffle again. When you turn to face him, he sees for the first time what he’s done to you.

The orange of the streetlight lamp outside bathes you in a sunset shade of neon — your eyes are glassy with tears that gather at your lashes. Emotions glow at the tip of your nose and your cheeks. Your skin would be hot to the touch if he felt you now.

“Do you know how weird it is for me? To watch my boyfriend and his ex go fuck around with me?” you ask him with a scrunched nose and brows, like your trying to keep yourself from falling apart in front of him.

“It’s not like that and you know it,” Steve scolds. “She just wanted to get alcohol for tonight and had some shit to get off her chest. I mean, she’s been having a really hard time lately—”

“It’s not your job to take care of her, Steve!” you shout before you even realize you’re shouting. You take in a shuddered breath and let it out in a trembling sigh, shining eyes flitted away from him and towards the ceiling as you calm yourself down.

When you start your lament again, you’re quieter.

“You can’t just be this, like, emotional crutch for her every single time something’s wrong. She’ll just get invested in you all over again and…”

Steve watches from beside you, propped up on his elbow, as you trail off. The frown between your eyebrows deepens, a great and inquisitive crevice, while your eyes widen and your mouth falls softly agape — like you’ve discovered something in the midst of your rant.

“Is— Is that what you want?” you ask him then. “Do you, like, need her attention to feed your ego or something?”

He’s too offended by your words to tell you all the ways they aren’t true. “What? No! Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s embarrassing, Steve.”

“What is?”

“Watching you and her together!” you admit through a tightening throat. You rise from where you’d been laying down and Steve follows you, settling in front of you as you wrap your arms around your knees. “When I have to sit here, by myself, while you guys spend time alone. When she always knows what you’re up to, and I don’t—”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes quietly, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

“—It’s not fair. She’s not your girlfriend, Steve, I am. It’s your job to take care of me, not her.”

Steve deflates like a popped balloon. His chin falls to his chest and his eyes squeeze shut at the weight of your words.

It’s like you’re reminding him that he’s supposed to be in love with you and not someone he cared for a long time ago. Like you felt the need to remind him because you thought he’d forgotten somewhere down the line.

It hurts him too. It feels like you’ve got his heart in your hands and you're wringing it in your grip.

“You’re right,” Steve concedes with a nod. “I just... I guess, I never thought about it like that.”

He feels the same way, too, sometimes. When you and Eddie go all buddy-buddy mode and want to spend time together.

When you’re out all night with him at band practice. When you’re attached at the hip and having sleepovers in his room to talk about everything and nothing for hours until you fall asleep when the sun rises. When you both come down at one in the afternoon the next day for breakfast, giggling about the thing you said the night before.

It makes him feel like he’s missing out. Like you’re sharing parts of yourself with someone else and he isn’t allowed to see it.

And sometimes he gets irrational — keeps himself up all night as he imagines you and Eddie making out on his floor after going through all his new tapes or fucking in his unmade bed while he keeps a hand on your mouth to keep you quiet.

Steve concocts waking nightmares for himself whenever you’re not beside him.

But even then, it’s different. Because he used to do all that shit with Nancy. They fell in love, made out for hours because they didn’t want to stop feeling each other, had sex on a twin-sized bed and tried to keep from falling out of it while they did.

You’d never done that shit with Eddie — or with anyone you’re now sharing a home with. Besides Steve.

Because he’s yours now. And you’re his.

But you can’t stop thinking about how he used to be Nancy’s too.

“I don’t need you to tell me that I’m right,” you murmur with the childlike shake of your head, slow and lazy, as you wipe your wet cheek on your shoulder. “I need you to do something about it— I needed you to do something about it a long time ago.”

“I will, okay? I will. I promise. I’ll fix it,” Steve assures you quickly, with wide and hopeful eyes and a nodding head that makes his hair flop against his forehead.

He can see you losing hope in front of him, like a flame going slowly out. You’re slipping away. He keeps fighting to keep a hold of you.

“No.”

“…No?”

“You can’t,” you sniffle. “You can’t fix it.”

“Baby—”

“It’s not fair. To either of us,” you tell him, looking at him through clumped together lashes and heavy, sparkling eyes. “And it’s not your fault, okay? But I can’t keep feeling this like. It’s not healthy— this isn’t… this is what a healthy relationship is supposed to look like. It shouldn’t feel like this.”

Steve blinks back stinging tears. He brings his hand to his face and rubs the back of it against his burning nose. He feels a bit like you do now, hopeless. You’re slipping away and he is too and you both just keep on slipping, just going going going.

“You’re not even—” he clears his throat when his voice breaks halfway through. “You’re not even gonna let me try?”

You shrug weakly. Tears burn as they gather at your waterline. You revel in the sting because it’s better than the hole ripping through your chest.

“I don’t know. I think… I think it’s too late.”

“Why would you say that?” Steve agonizes with the shake of his head, looking like a wounded puppy as he gaze at you with brown eyes full of hurt. “Don’t say that. Don’t.”

“Steve—”

“No,” he interjects firmly, stopping the spiral before it can start again.

He positions himself so he’s sitting further ahead of you and holds your arms in his numbing hands, ducking down to catch your gaze when you try to look away from him.

“I love you, okay? I’m an idiot and I’m sorry and I'm stupid, alright? I wasn’t thinking. But we can’t just… It’s not too late. I can fix this. I promise I can fix this.”

Your chest aches at his plea, at the way he still doesn’t understand.

It’s not his fault you feel this way, not entirely. It’s not anyone’s fault and that’s what’s so scary. There’s no one to blame the pain on, no root to cut out and put an end to it. You’re frightened that it’s always going to be there, constantly in the way, forbidding either of you from ever moving on.

“Steve...” you murmur through tears while the boy gathers you in his arms. You try to stop him but your voice gets caught in your throat halfway through. Because you don’t want him to stop. Not ever.

He nurses you into his velvet hold, wrapping a pair of strong arms around you to cage you against him. He presses his nose into your temple while he rocks you back and forth. “I promise. Everything’s okay. I’ll fix it.”

He repeats that like a mantra while you keep your head pressed against his chest — everything’s gonna be okay, I can fix it, I love you.

It’s a promise. One that he’d rather die than break. 

You stay there, curled against his chest, while dark feelings ebb and flow in a constant and bitter cycle.

You hope he’s right. That these big feelings are just big stupid feelings that'll pass come the pink and blue sunrise. That everything really is going to be okay and that he really can fix it. 

Because even now, all hopeless and full of doom and gloom, you feel soothed in his hold. You’ve never felt safer anywhere else. You’ve built a home in the peace of Steve’s arms and you want to keep on living in them.

“I’m gonna make it better,” he whispers against the crown of your head. If you’ll let me.

He feels you nod lazily against him. “Okay.”

[wonwayne]

then because she goes ☁️ yang jungwon

pairing : idol!jungwon x gn!reader genre : angst, some comfort warnings : cursing, one violent thought word count : 0.8k

a/n : just read wuthering heights so here comes the brontë-infused angst !!

“—because you’re never home when you say you’ll be, and it’s actually— you— how much of an asshole do you have to be to think you can take me out on the one night i don’t want to? when i’ve cleared out my schedule in the evenings for months to be with you? this is the night you choose, and i have to go along with it?? that’s pretty fucking amazing, won. pretty fucking insane.”

jungwon kept quiet as your voice raised, aware that you were absolutely right. if he had really seen you as a priority, he could’ve worked quicker through a practice or left a team dinner early to get to you sooner. he wasn’t sure how he’d ever looked at that heavenly face — this heavenly face — and thought to pass up on it. and he certainly had no words of justification now, you staring daggers at him with heartbroken eyes. they took his breath away.

“i’m so sorry,” he said slowly, ready to be cut off at every next syllable. “i know i’ve been terrible these past few months. i’ve been meaning to make it up to you, really. i just—” he glanced at the clock. 8:14. was it worth saying? “i got a reservation at your favorite place, i thought you’d want—”

“you must not know me at all.” could a gaze pierce any harder?

jungwon attempted not to appear hurt. “i know your favorite restaurant,” he offered, half-playfully.

you shook your head. “you don’t know me. you don’t know how to listen.” you looked up at him forlornly. “i just told you i have no intention of leaving the house with you right now. didn’t you hear me? don’t you… ugh, can’t you…” you searched blindly for the right words. “can’t you just let me have my way for once?”

as soon as the question left your lips, you felt so hopelessly like a child that your whole body seemed to physically contract, surrendering its capacity to keep tears in. you were choking up.

jungwon took a step forward, some vague motion of aid, but you couldn’t bear to fall apart in front of him — the last thing you wanted was his assistance, him treating you like something small, something solvable. with a sharp pivot, you ran hastily into the bathroom and shut your boyfriend out. as soon as you did, your knees gave in and your body sank to the tiles, back pressed against the door.

when he came to knock, softly, desperately, you could feel the thumps through the wood.

“baby?” he sounded so gentle, it sent shivers down your spine. “can i— can i come in?” silence. “please?” silence. “if you want to be alone, i’ll go, but— i promise i won’t say a word.”

silence; then sobs, from your side of the door, so quiet they could’ve been gulps. jungwon winced, leaning back for a moment to tune out the weeping — otherwise, he knew he, too, would crumble in two seconds.

“darling,” he resumed after a pause, voice thin, practically begging: “please, please don’t cry. please, darling, y— love, you’re killing me. please. i love you. and i’m sorry. i’m so, so sorry. please.”

the bathroom grew hauntingly quiet. something in jungwon’s gut told him that any minute now, when he least expected it, you’d smash the door in his face and leave him bleeding there as long as one ethically could. not because that was your nature — obviously it wasn’t — but the noiselessness was terrifying, and at this point, he sincerely felt that he deserved nothing better for making you cry, if for nothing else.

an anxious eternity passed before the door cracked open, and jungwon could finally talk to you, face to tear-streaked face. only, everything he had planned to say deflated immediately at the sight of you.

you broke the silence this time. “i think we missed dinner.”

jungwon stared back at you, unable to control the pout taking shape on his lips and the tears welling in his eyes. “i missed you.” he shook his head, trying again: “i missed you.”

you brushed away his tears gingerly with your thumb, taking his whole body in your arms. it was the most natural thing you felt yourself doing all evening. “baby, i was right here,” you whispered, as if you needed to confirm your closeness through words, too.

“i know,” he sighed, “but you were gone forever. almost.”

“mm. something to consider next time you tell me you’re coming home at 7 and come at 7 in the morning.”

jungwon nodded firmly, taking your hands in his. “there won’t be a next time like that. promise.”

your silence sanctioned his resolve — no words were needed to confirm how you trusted jungwon to keep his promises.

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

Cherry Bomb (pt. 3)

Remus Lupin x f!reader, James Potter x f!reader (mentioned), Sirius Black x f!reader (mentioned)

warnings: smut, p in v, i think it’s protected atp idk, fingering, underage smoking, very dom remus, long af but omg i’m so in love with it

summary: the last part of your plan is far harder to achieve than the first two and it’s far more complicated.

word count: 5k

a/n: ahhh here’s the last part (i think?) anyway sorry it’s long i got carried away but ugh i love remus so much. sorry if my characterization is off, ever since atyd i see him as sarcastic. yeah i love this, hope you guys do too :)

~~~

Out of all the marauders, Remus Lupin was by far the most liked. He was quiet, but not invisible. He was the most sensible out of all the boys and the most polite. Though he did tend to be witty and sarcastic, he was kind at heart. But he was also the hardest one to get close to. Quiet, reserved, beautiful Remus with his nose always stuck in a book. There was always something about him that made girls fall fast. But that was the thing. It was always so easy to fall in love with him. So, if one ever wanted to shag Remus Lupin, they would have to deal with the consequences of loving him. Because he was nothing like his mates. He didn’t shag just anyone. No. He had to choose you. And to be chosen by him was the biggest accomplishment and the biggest curse. Because once you get him, you will never want to let him go.

~~~

Avoiding two of the marauders is nearly impossible. Each corner you turn it seems you run into one of them, or both. And each time their eyes find you they show the same expressions. Confusion. Frustration. Perhaps even a bit of sadness. You debate throwing away the entire plan daily. It’s unfair, the way you’re playing with their minds. But the lingering knowledge that you’re so close to completing the plan entirely keeps you going. Because surely, all your hurt feelings can’t be for nothing.

Right?

You speak to James only once after your shag in the broom closet. It’s a week or two after, he’s been chasing you around, and you’ve been avoiding him. But you decide he deserves some amount of closure. Sweet, lovely, innocent James. You find him alone in the library and take your opportunity. The way he smiles when he sees you approaching makes your heart ache terribly and regret fills your stomach.

“Y/n I’ve been trying to catch you, how are you?” He asks once you’re close enough to hear his quiet tone.

He looks so happy, you feel sick.

“Yeah, I just you know… haven’t been feeling too great,” you lie.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Sit if you’d like, I’ve been attempting to study for the potions test. Aren’t you good with potions? Could you help me possibly?”

You inhale deeply. You could really use a cigarette right now. You’ve broken things off with guys before, but this feels different. In the other cases, you’ve had reasons. For this case though, you have none. James is innocent in all of this. It makes you nauseous.

“Listen, James,” you start, your voice soft. “What happened was great, I enjoyed it a lot, but it was a mistake. I like you, you’re very sweet, but I don’t think we should do anything else.”

Watching his face fall is by far the most horrid sight you’ve ever seen. All the happiness fades fast and leaves behind a bitter frown. He looks down at his papers, toying with his quill.

“I see…” He looks back up, a fake smile on his lips. “That’s alright, it was fun. I’m not really looking for anything serious like that either, so I understand.”

You swallow hard. “I really do like you James, believe me, but it’s just not the right time for this.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine.”

“And...” You pause for a second. “You won’t tell anyone?”

He nods. “Not a soul. This will be our little secret.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

“Well then, I’ll let you get back to your potions. Thanks for... everything.” You give him one last smile before turning on your heels and making your way out of the library.

You almost put an end to it right then and there, but then you see the tallest marauder walking down the hall with Peter. His hands are in his pockets, his book bag slung over one of his shoulders. For a split second his eyes meet yours as the two of you pass each other.

He gives you a small awkward smile.

Fuck.

~~~

To catch Remus Lupin alone you must take the risk of losing your house some points. You wait a week before making your move, for safety. After your conversation with James, the only marauder to pay attention to you is Sirius. He’s still set on telling everyone that the two of you shagged, but thankfully, not many people believe him. Not even his best mates.

It’s a very quiet night when you sneak out after curfew. A night you know one particular prefect is doing rounds on his own. You wander through the castle quietly, making sure to avoid the areas in which teachers lurk. Goosebumps form on your skin, you should’ve worn more than a tee-shirt and sweatpants, but you needed to look casual.

As you’re about to turn a corner, you spot Filch. Panic surfaces inside you and you quickly turn around and run as quietly as you can down the hall. You take a few turns and just as you’re about to relax, you hear a voice.

“It’s past curfew, what are you doing out here?”

Your heart stops for a completely different reason.

It’s him.

You turn to face him and shyly smile. You watch his face change as he recognizes you.

“Oh, it’s you.” He narrows his eyes. “Off to shag my mate again, are you?”

“I never shagged him,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest. “And I’m out for a completely different reason.”

“What reason is that?”

You shrug. “Personal reason.”

“Ah well, hope it was worth losing your dear Ravenclaws ten points. Get back to your dorm before someone else catches you,” he says, turning away from you.

You watch as he walks down the hall, not giving you another thought. You would’ve replied sarcastically if you could speak for that matter. Once he disappears, all you can do is shamefully make your way back to your house's common room, now understanding why James likes being a chaser.

~~~

Some time passes before you get Remus alone. Each time you see him during the day, he’s accompanied by one of the marauders and you can’t sneak out during his rounds again because your fellow Ravenclaws were not pleased. You’re smoking behind the castle when you happen to finally catch him walking alone. You immediately take your chance.

“Lupin!” You call out to him. You get up from the bench you were sitting on and walk to him.

Thankfully, he stops walking and turns back to face you. “Y/l/n. Is there something I can help you with?”

You can tell from the tone of his voice he’s trying to be polite; it makes your insides warm.

“Yeah, actually there is. I was wondering if you could help me with my transfiguration essay. You’re the smartest lad in the year,” you answer, taking a small puff of your cigarette. You hold it up to offer him a hit, he shakes his head.

“Those things will kill you,” he says. “But I suppose I can help a bit. I assume you’re free right now?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Let me take a look.”

A smirk forms on your lips, and you let out a breath of smoke purposely into his face. “Take a girl to dinner first.”

He swats the air, fanning away the smoke. “Are you going to show me or not? I have things to take care of.”

“Sorry.” You hate the way your face burns. “Come see.”

The two of you make your way to the bench and you take out your essay. Truthfully, you are already finished with it, and you think your work is good. But much to your dismay, only a few seconds after he starts reading it, Remus takes out a muggle pen and begins crossing things off.

“What’s wrong?”

“Your spelling is shit, and you’ve contradicted your argument at least twice already and I’m only on the second paragraph,” he answers, his eyes glued to the paper. “Maybe if you spent more time studying than shagging and smoking, you’d have this information down. We reviewed it a few weeks ago.”

You scoff. “I have not been shagging.”

“Sure,” he mumbles, crossing off another sentence.

“I swear, Sirius is mistaken.” You lie.

He turns his head, his green eyes meeting yours. “Who said I was referring to Sirius?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you cough due to the smoke. Is he talking about James? Your heart rate increases, and anxiety flows throughout your body. Did James tell? You catch your breath, your eyes meeting his again. He looks unamused.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t shagged anyone in months, not that it’s your business,” you say.

“You should really practice more on your lying; you are shit at it.” He hands your essay back to you and stands. “I left a few notes of some things you should change, but my biggest suggestion is that you reread the textbook, and perhaps find some more... enticing quotes. Is that all then? Like I said, I’ve got some other business to tend to.”

For a few seconds, all you can do is stare up at him, your mouth hung open ever so slightly. You previously thought Remus Lupin to be a timid boy who went along with the rest of the marauders because he couldn’t say no. Now though, you realize all those assumptions are wrong. He’s quiet, but not timid.

“What do you know?” You question.

“Quite a lot, thanks for the chat.”

Before you can even think of a response, he’s already walking away. You can’t let him slip away again.

“I’ll get it out of you Remus Lupin if it’s the last thing I do!”

He turns his head over his shoulder and chuckles, the sound sending warmth straight to your core. “We’ll see.”

And just like that, he’s gone, and you’re left flustered with rosy cheeks.

You did save the best for last.

~~~

Falling for the third marauder is easier than anything. Almost unconsciously, you begin to fail classes so that he can help you with work, you learn his route around the castle to see him at least once a day, and you sneak around the castle some nights, but he always ends up finding you somehow.

One night, a little over a month after you’ve started your game, something unexpected happens. You’re out after curfew once again, tiptoeing around the castle to see where the tallest prefect is when he appears from behind you. Like usual, he crosses his arms and clears his throat, making you quickly spin on your heels to face him. How does he always sneak up on you?

“How many times am I going to catch you before you start following the rules? I’m sure your fellow Ravenclaws aren’t too pleased with you,” he says. You look up at him, a genuine blush on your face. He narrows his eyes. “You want me to catch you, don’t you?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You look away nervously. The plan never involved gaining real feelings for any of the marauders, yet here you were. Standing in your sleepwear after curfew with your heart racing in your chest at the mere sight of one of them. Though you try to deny it, you know deep down you’re crushing hard, and you know it will only end badly.

“I uh... I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m just on a little stroll back from a smoke that’s all,” you reply after a few seconds, your hands anxiously fiddling with one another.

He rolls his eyes. “Listen, I don’t know what your objective is or has been, but whatever it is it’s not going to happen.”

“Remus I-”

“Sirius, I understand, he would sleep with the giant squid if it had tits. But James, really? He may be more of an... active person than myself but he has far more feelings than you think.” He takes a step forward; he towers over you. You swear you can’t breathe. “You may have fooled them, but you don’t fool me. I can see right through you y/l/n and you’re sick.”

You move backward; he follows each step. “You... you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?”

Your back hits a wall, panic rises in you. Your eyes fall to his hands, and a bit of relief washes over you when you see he’s not holding his wand. But then another thought takes over. Is he going to hit you? When you look back up, he’s only inches away from you, his hazel eyes piercing down into yours. He places one of his hands on the wall next to your head. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“I didn’t mean to cause any trouble, really. I’m sorry,” you mumble, your words genuine.

“So, what was your goal then? To shag all of us and take your pick of who’s best? Peter would’ve been far easier than James you know,” he replies.

“It was just a stupid idea, I don’t know. It didn’t mean anything deeper I swear.” You’re rambling now, the threat of tears evident in the burning of your eyes. You try your hardest to keep any from falling, you can’t cry in front of Remus.

He sighs. “You’re lucky Sirius is oblivious, and James is trusting. If they knew the truth, you’d have the whole school against you.”

“Wait, they don’t know?”

He rolls his eyes again. “Of course not. If they knew you’d be getting hexed almost all day every day.”

“Then how do you know?”

“I notice a lot more than people think. Did you honestly think no one saw you go up to our dorm with Sirius that night at the party? And did you honestly think none of us would notice James’s change in attitude? You think you know more than you actually do,” he explains.

For a few seconds, the two of you only stare at each other. You don’t know what to think. You should’ve known this would happen. Someone was going to catch on. You wish you had never done it. Any of it. Everything would be so much simpler if you’d simply stayed the quiet Ravenclaw girl who never interacted with the marauders. But you can’t go back, no matter how much you wish you could. You can only make it right moving forward.

“I’m sorry, truly Remus.” There’s so much more you want to say, but you can’t. You can’t fathom the words.

“If you’re truly sorry, stop. I won’t be the next pawn in your game,” he says, his voice slightly lower than before. You watch the way his eyes shift, the way he licks his lips, and moves his head down so he’s almost eye level with you. Your breath catches in your throat. “I suppose I pity you though because you and I both know this has become more than a game to you now.”

You turn your head, but he grabs your chin and forces you to look him in the eye.

“You fancy me.”

“I-”

“Don’t try to deny it. Like I said, I can see right through you.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s over now,” you whisper, a tear nearly escaping one of your eyes.

He inhales deeply and you notice his eyes trail over your body for a moment before meeting your gaze again. “You’re right. It is over now.”

He lets go of you and backs away and for the first time since encountering him tonight, you feel like you can breathe normally. You stay on the wall, silently catching your breath as he walks further down the hall. But just before he’s about to turn a corner, he looks back at you.

“Or perhaps it’s simply my turn to play with you. Oh, and that’s twenty points from Ravenclaw. Goodnight.”

You fall asleep with his words burning in the back of your mind, and an ache between your thighs.

~~~

After that night, everything is different. You try to avoid them all and go back to the way things were before, you really do. You scribble out the page in your journal with their names, you keep your head down in the halls, and you skip the parties they host. It’s Remus who’s begun playing. Somehow, he continues knowing where you are and appears at random times. Whether you’re studying in the library, and he just so happens to need a book from that section, or you’re out by the lake with your friends and he walks by. You know it’s intentional, but it still manages to leave you hot and bothered each time.

“I thought you said the plan was off?” Your friend says one particular day when the two of you are eating lunch.

You look at her, confused. “It is.”

“Then why has Lupin been staring at you this whole meal?”

Instinctively, you look across the Great Hall and immediately catch those all-too-familiar hazel eyes. He doesn’t look away, at least, not for a moment. He stares at you with no shame, and even from the distance you can sense something different from the look in his eyes. Before you can fully figure it out though, he turns his attention back to the other three marauders.

“Did you shag him?” Your friend asks.

“No, I told you what happened,” you answer, focusing your attention back on the food on your plate. “I wish he’d stop.”

Your friend laughs. “Nah, you don’t.”

You hate how she’s right.

~~~

Nearly two months have passed when you finally confront Remus.

You’re sitting in the astronomy tower, a cigarette between your lips, and a scowl on your face. You can’t take it any longer. Wasn’t he the one who told you off? Wasn’t he the one who told you to stop the games? He was. You know it. So, why has he kept it going? He had said that it was his turn, but that was many weeks ago. How long did he plan to keep this going? You let out a cloud of smoke, frustration taking over your body at the thoughts.

“How many points shall I take off tonight? Forty? Fifty?” You feel him sit next to you, but you refuse to look at him. “You haven’t been out after dark in a while though, I’ll give you that.”

“What do you want Lupin?” You ask, annoyed.

He chuckles. “What do any of us want really?”

You look at him with a straight face, hating the way butterflies take over your stomach at the sight of him so close to you. Despite the scars on his face, you find him more beautiful than any boy. More than James, even more than Sirius. There is something so extraordinary about Remus you can’t explain. You wish it would go away.

“Why can’t you leave me alone?” You question after taking another drag from the cigarette.

“I haven’t spoken to you in over a month, I don’t know what-”

“Yes, you know what I mean.” You cut him off. You exhale your last breath of smoke and throw the cigarette off the tower. “I’m trying to leave this all in the past and move on like you said but you’ve made it quite difficult.”

“Seems you don’t like the taste of your medicine love. It’s hard, isn’t it? Trying to avoid someone when they always seem to end up exactly where you are. It gets rather annoying, doesn’t it? Especially when you secretly enjoy it,” he replies.

Your eyes meet again and that familiar trouble to breathe begins. He’s looking at you in a way you don’t know how to feel about. It’s not like Sirius’s drunken stare or James’s needy stare. No. This one, though the same lustful, is far deeper.

“Just tell me what you want Remus,” you eventually say, your voice lower than before. “What do you want?”

“I want you to get out of my head. I want to look at you and feel nothing. I want everything to go back to how it was before you decided to fuck with my friends and me,” he answers.

You swear your heart stops for a few beats. “Then let all of that happen.”

“You think I haven’t tried?”

You stay silent.

“I never wanted this, any of it.”

You look down. “I know.”

“Don’t do that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Merlin, I give up, you win y/n. You bloody win.”

You’re about to ask what he exactly means, but he acts faster. In the blink of an eye, his lips are on yours. You can’t grasp it at first. You’re kissing Remus Lupin; Remus Lupin is kissing you. The boy who unintentionally caught your heart is kissing you. It’s unbelievable, it’s undeniable, and it’s far from underrated. You don’t hesitate to kiss him back, even through your initial shock.

His hands cup your cheeks, his thumbs stroke your skin ever so gently. You wrap your arms around his neck, one of your hands toying with the hair on the back of his head. He’s a good kisser, very good. That’s why when he parts your lips, you protest.

“Why did you-”

“If we’re going to do this, you have to promise me it’s not a game anymore y/n.”

Your head is fuzzy from how intently he’s looking at you. “I promise Remus, that game has been over for a while.”

“You swear it?”

“I do. Do you?”

“Of course.” There are a few seconds of silence before he sighs, one of his fingers now playing with a piece of your hair. “We have to keep it secret.”

“I know,” you say.

He brushes the piece of hair behind your ear, the intimate gesture sending tingles throughout your body. “I don’t want it to be a quick shag either,” he adds.

“What do you want it to be then?”

The smile he gives you makes your stomach flip. “More.”

~~~

More from Remus Lupin is everything.

After that night, the two of you begin something you don’t exactly know how to name. You would call it a secret relationship, but the thought of that gives you a stomachache. The two of you don’t interact during the day, at least not where anyone else can see. He passes you in the hall as if you’re a stranger, but the second he catches you around a corner in an empty hallway he showers you with affection. And at night when the two of you sneak off, he touches you in ways you never thought possible.

He shows you so many new places in the castle you never knew of. Secret passages, secret rooms, all of it. You never question how he knows all of it, you only hold his hand tighter as he guides you. When he suggests a more secluded place to meet, you of course agree. Though, you never expect that place to be the shrieking shack.

“There’s no way you’re serious,” you say. The two of you are outside, near the Whomping Willow. You make sure to stay out of its reach. “The shrieking shack? That place is haunted, the ghosts don’t even go there because of how scary it is.”

“Obviously I’m not Sirius love, you only shagged him once,” he sarcastically replies, rolling his eyes to emphasize his joke.

“Remus.”

“The shrieking shack is not haunted, believe me, that’s only a silly rumor made so that people won’t go to it. Me, James, Sirius, and Peter go all the time. It has a bed, and given our activities I say we utilize that,” he explains.

You bite your lip. “Are you positive?”

He moves a bit closer to you and places a hand on your shoulder, leaning down so he’s at eye level with you. “You know I would never let anything hurt you, you can trust me.”

“Alright, but how are we supposed to get there so late? It’s in Hogsmeade,” you question.

He chuckles. “Haven’t you learned by now the marauders have many secret ways?”

“Yes, but we’re not in the castle right now how are we to- Remus don’t go any closer you’re going to get hurt you-” You pause, your mouth hung open as you watch the whomping willow go completely still. “How did you...”

“Secrets love, now come, it’s getting late,” he says, holding a hand out to you.

You don’t hesitate to take his hand and follow him into the tree, nothing else is said.

Surprisingly, the walk isn’t too long. It’s dark, gloomy, and a bit cold, but it’s not terrible. At the end of the tunnel, there’s a door. Something in Remus’s posture shifts, almost as if he’s anxious. You squeeze his hand to try to reassure him of whatever he needs, he gives you a smile through the dark that makes your cheeks warm.

The shrieking shack isn’t big, not at all. It’s a simple building with a few rooms and a short staircase. Remus brings the two of you to what you presume is the bedroom though the only indicator is a mattress, blanket, and pillow on the floor. There’s a small fireplace in the room as well, shockingly full of wood and some candles placed near the mattress. The entire shack is creaky and dusty, but you don’t mind. As long as there’s no ghosts, it’s perfect. Remus lets go of your hand and moves to start a fire. You sit down on the mattress and light the candles around.

“What do you guys use this place for?” You ask.

“It’s just a place we come to sometimes when we don’t want to be around other people,” he answers. His back is still turned to you, you could stare at it all day. “Sirius was the first one to discover it wasn’t haunted.”

“Oh? How did he find that out?”

“He’s always been the bravest out of us, though I think he just wanted another rule to break.”

You chuckle. “That sounds like him.”

He finally stands and turns to face you, a bright fire burning behind him. “You would know, you shagged him.”

“Oh, shut up,” you say as you slide off your shoes.

He begins to walk to you. “Can I ask you a question?”

“This context doesn’t seem good, but yes you can,” you reply.

“Be completely honest, out of the three of us, who’s the best?”

He’s standing right in front of you now. You look up at him, a coy smile on your lips, and begin to untie his shoelaces. “You are of course.”

“For some reason, I think your answer is biased,” he says with a laugh.

You trail your hands up his legs after he steps out of his sneakers, stopping once you reach his belt buckle. It quickly gets undone. “What would make you say that?”

He laughs again. “Just a hunch I guess.”

Your moment of control is taken fast when he pushes you down on the mattress, his lips attacking yours. It isn’t a lie though; he is the best. Unlike with Sirius and James, you share such deeper feelings for Remus. Each time he touches you, you practically melt into the palm of his hand. He’s caring. He’s gentle, but rough when need be. Though the two of you argue sometimes, it always is resolved with a hug, a kiss, or a shag. So, in the simplest of words, Remus Lupin is the perfect boy in every way.

All your clothes are discarded quickly, his too. He kisses you deeply as he uses his fingers on you. Sometimes you wonder where he’s learned all his skills from, but even thinking about him with another girl has started to make your stomach hurt. Instead, you focus on how good two of his fingers feel inside you. They’re so long, so slender. More than once in class you’ve been completely distracted by the sight of his hands, specifically his fingers, even more specifically when he’s wearing rings on them. They feel just as you imagine, extraordinary.

When you cum, you’re moaning a mess into his mouth, your body shaking. He milks every last bit of your orgasm out of you before stopping. You watch through heavy lids as he sucks his fingers clean of your cum, the sight makes you audibly groan.

“I need you,” you whisper, running one of your hands through his hair.

“Do you?” There’s something in the tone of his voice mixed with the way he’s looking at you that makes your heart ache in your chest.

You nod. “In so many ways Rem.”

“Promise?”

“Always.”

He moves inside you slowly at first, but he finds a decent pace after a few minutes. Because of his height, you weren’t at all surprised at the size of his cock. It’s by far the biggest you’ve ever encountered and the best. Though sometimes it leaves you sore, it always leaves you in a daze of dopamine.

Remus struggles to keep his head at your level as he fucks you. He presses soft kisses to your forehead, one of his hands intertwined with yours. You’ve never felt such intimacy in your life, it almost makes tears form in your eyes.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he says, his voice shaky. “Even if it’s not true.”

“I’m yours, Rem, completely,” you reply. His hips meet yours harder, and you moan. “All yours I’m all yours.”

Neither of you lasts much longer than that.

In the aftermath as the two of you hold each other, he rests his head on your chest. You run your fingers through his hair softly, the sound of his breathing like music to your ears. It’s at this moment you realize just how deeply you care for him. You hate what you did with that silly plan, but you don’t think you’d change it. If ending up in this moment only came from the plan, you’d do it over a million times.

“Is this real?” Remus asks after some time.

You sigh and press a kiss to the top of his head. “Yes. This is real.”

And so, it is.

[astrolynnworld]

under the table

pairing: bf! matt sturniolo x reader

summary: matt takes you on a weekly date night event that he always has planned. although tonight, matt starts to get turned on by your presence.

warnings: smut, exhibition, language, maybe a bit of a foot fetish? minors pls dni!

a/n: let me know if you guys like the story !!

word count: 923

“thank you” i said to matt as he opened my car door for me.

we were outside the nicest restaurant in our home town. i’ve been talking about this spot for months because there’s so many good reviews and they only taking reservations on top of always being reserved.

but, somehow matthew managed to get a last minute reservation due to a couple who canceled a few hours ago. now we’re standing inside the restaurant as the hostess prepares our table.

i look over at matt who stands beside me looking all handsome in his suit & tie. considering the elements of the restaurant that we were at, we definitely had to dress up. i always loved when matt dressed up, it only ever made him look 100x better.

as the hostess guides us to our table, matt grabs my hand as he leads the way. i love when matthew would do little dominate things like this in public, would make me feel so secure and safe. i never had to worry about feeling anxious when matt was around because he would always make me feel safe and calm.

we sit down on opposite sides of our booth and the waiter comes over to take our drinks.

“i’ll have a root beer and she’ll have a shirley temple” matt speaks for me.

i smile at the thought that he doesn’t even have to ask what i want, he just knows me. i know we’ve been dating for several months now but it always just feels good to have little reminders that someone cares enough to know the small repetitive things that you like or do.

“you look so good tonight” i tell matthew, breaking the silence that i created by staring.

“is that why you’re looking so hard” he replies back while laughing

i laugh back, “can you stop! you know i get nervous”

“you’re so cute, pretty girl. you don’t need to be nervous around me” he continues while chuckling still.

the waiter comes back with our drinks and asks if we’re ready to order. thankfully we had already previously looked at the menus online and knew what we wanted because we did not touch the menus that were given to us in person.

we told the waiter our orders and he had gone back in the kitchen to give it back to the chef.

“can you take some pictures of me for instagram?” i ask matt while mixing my drink so it looks well blended for the photos.

“of course, love” he replies as he picks up his phone to take my photos

i do a series of poses, just trying my best to look as hot as possible. matt behind the camera just hyping me up with occasional, “you’re actually so gorgeous” or “you’re so mesmerizing, i can’t believe you’re mine” causing me to smile even harder in the photos

until he said one thing that for sure caught me off guard.

“you turn me on so much.” he said casually

“matthew?” i say confused as if i heard him wrong.

he didn’t reply, he just stopped taking photos as i obviously was not posing anymore.

“are you serious?” i ask in a lighthearted manner

“do you wanna feel?” he responds back.

“matthew!! we’re in public” i say with a smile on my face

“i can’t help it. it’s something about ur eyes, the way you look just genuinely gets my dick hard.” he says as a whisper so nobody else in the restaurant heard

“you’re so unserious” i reply back.

he leans in closer to the table, “do you think you could touch me throw my pants?”

“matty it’s too public in here, it’s either gonna look suspicious or someone will see”

“what if..” he stops

“if what?” i ask

“could you maybe use your feet? nobody would see if you use your foot to rub on me. please! i just need you to touch me. all this talking is only making me harder” he says

“matt-“

“please y/n, just for a bit” he pleads

“alright..” i take off my heels in order to “get comfortable” and i rest my feet on his lap in order to get access to his bulge without immediately looking suspicious.

i start sliding my foot up and down rubbing on his bulge to give him as much stimulation as i could. i had never done something like this before so it felt a little weird but i could see on his face that he was enjoying it.

“matty, don’t make it too obvious.” i told him in hopes that he would control his facial expression from looking like a fucked out puppy.

“fuck- i think i could cum from this” he whispers in an almost audible whine.

he puts his head down on the table in order to mask the sensation.

i try to go faster to finish him off until i notice the waiter coming back with our food.

i quickly stop, to which matt raises his head wanting to ask why i had stopped until he also sees the waiter

“for you ma’am.” the waiter says as he places the plate down in front of me

“thank you” i reply.

“and the chicken alfredo for you sir.” he says handing matt his plate

“thank you.” matt says with a raspy voice that he clears as soon as the phrase leaves his mouth.

“enjoy.” the waiter says before walking away

“yeah, we’re definitely gonna need to finish what we started” matt says

i smirk at his comment.

———————————————————————

should i do a part 2? & let me know if you guys enjoyed !!