#help the whole series gave me more questions than answers

[likeasecondself]

for those who have read the dreamer trilogy: matthew is no longer dependent on ronan after the events of the series right? like if ronan does die, matthew can still live on without him due to some sweetmetal stuff?

[yapileon]

@TacklersCulers: The Chaotic Teen Serie pt. 3

fcb femení x chaoticteen!reader pt. 1 — pt. 2 2670w, it's kinda angsty, be warned<3 r gets nicknamed: "Diablilla" aka little devil in spanish as an endearment term "Skrulla" aka goofball/silly in norwegian for a mischievous child

17yo La Masia defender gets promoted to the first team. Will you be able to keep your fcb femení fan account hidden while slowly making your place in the team with your idols?

You lean your head back against the metal locker, a smug smirk tugging at your lips. Your eyes meet Pina's and you can't help but choke back a snort. 

You had called the forward in the morning, asking her to come pick you up since you wouldn't be able to walk to training like you had done for the past years. 

"You owe it to me after that whole mess you started about my phone wallpaper yesterday," you huffed. While you weren't actually mad at Pina, you were sure as hell going to milk every favor you could out of her. 

"Sure," she agreed without even needing a reason. This team was a family. If you needed a ride and she could help you out, she would do it, no questions asked. 

“Do you have space in the trunk for…” you trailed off, unsure if you could trust her now. If she said no, then your plan would fail.

“Sí, Diablilla, now tell me the plan,” you could hear her chuckle through the phone like she had read your thoughts. And just like that, you became partners in crime.

The both of you arrived at the training centre giggling like children, clutching at each other's arms from how much you were laughing. You had underestimated how mischievous Pina could be for a good joke. Coming up with an ever better plan than the original, you both go straight to work. 

The locker room is slowly filling, everyone realizing what you had done, most people figuring out Pina was in on it too with the glances you kept exchanging. Hushed whispers were heard around the room, everyone waiting for Mapi to come in. Pina had a phone propped up to capture it all.

You were doom scrolling your fan account, posting some more memes when the door opened again. You knew she had to arrive soon, almost everyone else was here already. 

Silence. 

You looked up to see Mapi walking in, smiling and in a good mood like usual, with Ingrid trailing behind. You bite your jersey to hide a smile you can’t camouflage. 

Mapi stood frozen, looking at her locker. Something was occupying her chair. The cardboard cutout of her doing her lion pose you owned. Fake Mapi was flexing and showing her teeth like an animal ready to fight. She burst out laughing, wheezing and letting herself fall on a chair. 

It was the cue for the whole team to explode. Pina’s voice shot up, barely hearable over the laughing. “Say hi for Instagram, Mapi!” she was moving around so much you were sure the video wouldn’t even be good.

Alexia had been standing on the side of the room, an eyebrow raised, “Of course it’s you two.” she spoke, shaking her head disapprovingly. But even serious Alexia couldn’t hold back a smile. 

“I gotta admit kid, I didn’t think you’d actually bring it,” the centre back wheezed, wiping tears away from her eyes. 

The joyful energy was only made more electric by Ingrid, who leaned into the joke. Ingrid looked alternatively between Mapi sitting on the chair and the cardboard. She posed, mimicking being deep in thoughts. 

"Mmh, which one is my girlfriend?" she had said, grinning. 

“Pina! Get this on the video!” you shouted, gesturing to whatever was about to happen, the woman happily nodded. 

She slid down next to the cardboard, throwing her arm around the fake Mapi "This one!" she exclaimed, sending everyone toppling over.

Mapi gave her a shocked look, still laughing. "Oh I see how it goes, everyone prefers that pale copy now" she feigned annoyance. Ingrid kissed the cheek of the cardboard while Mapi pouted, voice shaky as she added, “what does she have that I don’t?”

“This one doesn’t argue when I’m right.” Ingrid answered, the Norwegian might have become your favourite person in the world right now. The look on the Spaniard’s face was priceless, you could have rolled on the floor.

"El León stole the spotlight!" it was Jana who had chimed in. She was next to Pina and Patri, all three of them waving for you to get closer. You jumped to their side, hovering over Jana’s shoulder to look at the phone. 

They had posted the video seconds ago on the main Barcelona account and it was already shaking up the internet. As the team calmed down and finished getting ready, thousands of comments popped up, requesting more videos. So the four of you obliged. 

You posed Mapi and the cutout next to each other taking a picture and doing a poll in the story, which read “Which is the better Mapi?” You knew social media, you knew how to bring in numbers. 

Jana and Patri took the fake Mapi to the field while Pina and you ran to get some footballs. Both of you laughed when the cardboard had deflected a shot, still careful to keep it intact as you wanted to bring it back home safely. You all screamed “AND SHE DOES IT AGAIN, SAVING THE DAY!” zooming on it and then on Mapi, who watched with the biggest smile on her face. Mapi grabbed the phone to take selfies with the cutout. Everything was posted on the account, this would be the first thing fans ever got to see from you, and you weren’t disappointed. This was a masterpiece of an introduction to the world. 

In this moment, the bond that you had with this team felt invincible. Feeling more alive than you ever had previously. For some minutes, before Pina had arrived to pick you up, you had doubted. Maybe they wouldn’t find it funny, maybe it would make them realize how childish you really were. But even the older, more mature players had laughed at your banter. Pina had treated you like a little sister, Mapi and Ingrid played along. There was a warmth in their teasing that made you feel at home. 

So much so that you didn’t even try to argue with Alexia when she clapped, asking for everyone’s attention. “Everybody calm down, training now, chaos later.” she said firmly. 

When she saw you grinning, she approached, “Yes even you, Diablilla” she joked, ruffling your hair. “Show us what you can do, besides being a trickster.”

So you hopped off, starting to stretch, warming up your muscles. This left you some time to reflect on the whole situation. You inhaled deeply. The first training session that you had had with the team had gone well, but you were aware it was a chill one, to ease you in the team. Pere had warned you today would be “intense”, as he had said exactly. You felt ready for what they were about to throw at you. You could feel yourself getting more focused, though you were still up for a good joke if the opportunity was there. The team was currently doing sprints to activate their body before doing drills and scrimmages. 

Caro groaned after the last set, “Why do we even do this?” She was clutching her sides, trying to find her breath again.

‘So we can outrun the refs when they try to card us.” you mumbled, sprints weren’t your favorite exercise either. 

Except it seemed you did not say this as low as you intended. You looked up to see most of the team staring at you. Most veterans seemed shocked, the younger players not so much. In the corner of your eyes you could see Jana and Salma holding in a chuckle. 

“What?” you remarked, in disbelief, blush creeping onto your cheeks. Alright, it’s true that it wasn’t very smart of you to admit you were prone to getting cards so much you had to learn how to run away from the refs. 

“Dios mío!” Alexia exclaimed, putting her hand on her forehead, “Irene! You’re going to teach Cariño how to behave, sí?” she added with a sigh. 

“Not fair! Why is Caro even complaining,” you were interrupted by Irene trying to drag you away, but you persisted, “like she didn’t run at 32 km/h during the 2023 world cup?” you grumbled. 

Caro raised an eyebrow, looking at you with a proud expression. “You’re a fan now? I thought you only liked defenders.” she replied, voice full of playfulness. 

“I keep myself updated on statistics.” you attempted to say, trailing off knowing the team would, once again, never let you live that down. 

Salma came up next to you, “So you know statistics on everyone here?” she smirked, barking out a laugh when your eyes widened in horror. 

“Sorry! Can’t hear you I’m too far away getting ready for the drills,” you walked off with Irene, miming not being able to hear. 

“This isn’t over Diablilla!” screamed Vicky, “we’ll get all your fangirl secrets out of you later.” 

Oh, Vicky, if only you knew. 

As you made your way next to the other defenders, you let out a breath. Determination taking over your cheeky eyes, you touched the tip of both of your boots with your fingers. The last of your rituals, this meant the game was on. 

You threw yourself in all the tasks the coach had you do. While your inexperience showed on certain drills, your will to do well still pleased the team. In some ways, having spent so many years studying everything about that team helped you on the pitch. You could guess where Alexia would try to do a backward pass, or where Aitana’s ball control might be more problematic to intercept. You tried your best to mirror Mapi, bending your knee lows, trying to push attackers on the side you wanted. An interception you made earned you a wide grin from Mapi while Ingrid had her thumbs up toward the sky to congratulate you. A shy smile creeped on your lips.

You were putting up a solid fight, having done a few successful tackles during a particularly difficult scrimmage. Maybe it’s how you ended up messing up so bad. The confidence rushed through you when you decided to slide tackle Caro. She was doing a solo run, and you were feeling mixed, split between not wanting to lose if she scored an equalizer and wanting praises from your teammates. It was childish, really. Almost shameful. You weren’t here to be praised, you were here to work. But she was running, and you were shoulder to shoulder with her. It felt like the right timing, so you slid. The adrenaline rush was so strong that you didn’t use your brain enough. You knew she was a master at feints, but still for a second you thought you had it. 

You sensed the wet grass brushing against your skin, until the grass was replaced with a training cone you collided with. You froze, your whole body burning, watching in horror as Caro continued her run, chipping the ball over Cata, making her team come up to 2-2. And that was your fault, if you had accessed the situation for longer, you wouldn’t have dived head first into an unnecessary tackle.

Ingrid jogged over to you, “You alright, Skrulla?” reaching her hands to help you stand up. If your ears weren’t ringing so bad from the shame and confusion, you would have asked the Norwegian what it meant. 

You shrugged, wiping the grass from your shorts in embarrassment. 

You knew you didn’t do a good job hiding it when the green eyed woman added, “At least it wasn’t my back this time?” She was smiling brightly at you, so you forced out a laugh, the emotions stuck in your throat. 

You shook your head, going back into position. Any positive feeling from your earlier exploit long gone. You tried to brush it off, but you were so frustrated with yourself and still had half the session to go through. So you pushed yourself more, hoping to erase the bad memory. 

It didn’t work though. By the time training finished, you were exhausted. Letting yourself flop on the ground, you clutched at your chest in pain. Little by little your abilities on the pitch had faded away, each pass connecting less and less, your timing getting worse. Everyone could see it, and some of your teammates gave you questioning looks. You couldn’t deal with the attention on you, so you jumped up and made a beeline for the lockers. 

You showered quicker than you thought possible, but by the time you were done, multiples of your teammates were around you. The buzzing of the room annoyed you more than it ever had previously. 

You look up to see Ingrid and Mapi whispering, throwing glances at you. So, like the child you are, you grabbed your cardboard cutout and fled. Waving off a very confused Pina who thought she’d drive you back home. 

As you walk, you can’t help but feel increasingly stupid. You know you shouldn't be nearly as bothered with that tackle as you currently were. It was so stupid. But it was so badly timed and you were ashamed about it. Sure your teammates were nice to you, and you all laughed together, but with that awful move you had just pulled? There was no way they'd ever trust you on the field. How could they trust you if you couldn't even slide tackle an opponent? Why would Pere give you any minutes if you messed up so bad when there was no pressure on you. 

By the time you reached your dorm, you could feel tears rolling down your cheeks. You quickly wiped them with your sleeve, throwing yourself on your bed.  

That was the down side of your brain. The obsession over football, that one singular process who made you apart from other players but was also your downfall. The way you’d obsess over every single one of your flaws, needing to perfect them all. Needing to have as much information on players. You’d drive yourself crazy and sleep deprived watching footage until the birds would sing outside, signaling you it was early morning. It wasn’t healthy. But it was all you knew.

You had grown up with coaches who had screamed at you that the difference between an amateur and a pro was when they stopped their drills. An amateur does it right once and stops, a pro keeps going until they can’t get it wrong. So you just kept pushing. In some way, you hoped your brain would ease off having finally made the first team. It hadn’t.

You rolled over, looking at the fake Mapi, still deep in thoughts. Your eye caught sight of a black mark on it, making you jump in a hurry. Had you damaged it while walking back home? Or when Pina and you were using it for shooting practice? Frowning, you leaned closer trying to figure out what had happened. 

You gasped when you saw it.

You have the potential to be one of the greatest.

— Mapi 

You let the tip of your fingers brush over the writing. Your idol hadn’t only signed the cardboard without you even asking, she had written this. You felt a tug at your heartstring, and promised yourself to thank her profusely tomorrow. 

For now, the only thing you could do was calm down. You inhaled deeply, feeling the rise of your ribcage, and exhaled softly, trying to release any tensions in your body. Maybe it was fine, maybe nobody would be mad at you, maybe you’d be able to fix it during the next training. 

You needed a distraction, so you pulled out your phone to check the latest post from your fan account.

TacklerCulers

tacklerculers: Did you know? Attackers that trip in front of Mapi León are actually just nervous to be close to her.

barcafan11: @TacklersCulers Are you going to talk about the new signing we saw on the official barça page today?

alex1aa: I’m really disappointed, Barça does not need a clown.

b0nmat12: I hope she’s just a social media person and not a player, otherwise we’re doomed for the Champions League.

Your stomach twisted when you saw the comments. You threw the phone at the wall and buried yourself into the blanket on your bed. The weight of failure still crushing your chest.

pt. 4

[rhyrhy]

Slut me out series ˚ · .˚ ༘🦋⋆｡˚

Football! Fuckboy! Abby Anderson x female reader!

Cw: cunnilingus, fingering (r! Receiving), sex/actions under the influence, hate sex-ish, talks of drinking, smoking, college/ modern setting Abby!, no talks on body or race specifics! (Ellie appearance!)

MDNI- mlist for previous chapters

Chapter five: Out of bounds (not fully proofread I’m tired)

January 19th, 1am

The pool lights flickered, casting a soft glow that reflected on the water, painting everyone’s face in shades of blue and green. You had your head laid back on the cool, wet tile at the pool’s edge, listening to the distant chatter and the soft splash of water. The hum of R&B from the speakers couldn’t drown out the nagging question you had bouncing in your mind. So, you turned to Layla.

“Do you think she meant it, Lay?” you asked, unsure if the answer could even help the pit in your stomach.

Layla looked at you, brow furrowed, then softened. She knew what you were asking. “I think she did,” she said quietly. “And you know I wouldn’t lie to you. So… yeah”

Her words lingered in the air.

Was she really sorry this time? What did that even mean? What now?

You’d been soaking for an hour or so, you couldn’t bear to go back inside right now. Your mind was a mess, and whatever Layla put in your cup wasn’t helping. It just made you more fuzzy than wanted. Praying she’d come back soon, for a distraction or unfunny dad joke she loves to tell when you aren’t feeling like yourself.

You tried to push away the lingering thoughts of Abby. Don’t let her consume you, you are your own person. You repeat in your head, letting out a deep sigh. They wouldn’t leave you alone. Until a lanky, auburn haired, familiar face entered your line of sight.

You blinked a few time to process, seeing Ellie. standing a few feet away, her hands stuffed casually into the pockets of her faded jeans, her slightly awkward yet endearing smile impossible to ignore. Ellie Williams, You’d borrowed notes and had a few study groups with her in it, a friend. A comfort from the raging thoughts. Ellie’s eyes glinted with playful energy. you couldn’t help but feel a slight pull toward her, even with everything else on your mind.

“You looked a little lonely over here.” She nodded toward you, her green eyes flicking briefly to the drink in your hand. “Guess I’ll have to keep you company now.”

A small smile fell on your face. “Oh you’ll ‘have to’ , Is that right?”

Ellie shrugged, stepping closer. “Just doing my civic duty.” She leaned against the pool railing, her expression soft. “soo, you hiding from someone or?All mopey, red solo cup in hand”

You laugh at her dramatic description of you just chilling in the pool. Although she’s right, you were a tad ‘mopey’. Before you could answer, the patio door slid open with a clatter. Abby stepped out, her broad shoulders silhouetted by the light from the house, carrying an air that made your heart to pause for half a second. Yeah..Maybe it was foolish to think she wouldn’t be here.

Ellie’s teasing smirk faded slightly as her gaze flicked toward Abby, and she straightened up. “Guess I’ll leave you to it,” she murmured, her voice quieter now. She gave you a smile before turning and disappearing back into the crowd.

You barely had time to process Ellie’s sudden appearance before she was shuffling through the backyard. you sighed deeply and sank into the water a little more praying once more but for her to somehow not notice you.

And for awhile, she didn’t…until she did.

“Oh…Didn’t expect to see you here,” Abby said, her tone calm, though the way her hands flexed at her sides awkwardly gave her away.

You set your drink down on the pool ledge, avoiding her eyes. “Didn’t plan on it.” She may have apologized but I didn’t mean you were any less pissed at her whole ‘hit it and quit it’ act.

The air between you felt heavy, the distant chatter of the party and the bass-heavy music fading into the background. Abby shifted on her feet, glancing over her shoulder briefly, as if gauging whether this conversation was worth continuing.

…And for better or worse, she decided it was.

“Hey, about the other night—”

“Please Don’t,” you cut her off, finally meeting her gaze. Her blue eyes were softer than you wanted them to be, and it made your chest tighten. “I’m not here to rehash it, please.”

Abby hesitated, the sharp confidence she usually carried dulled by your words. Then Abby’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought she might walk away. Instead, she took a step closer, her voice almost pleading. “I don’t know how to fix this, okay? But I meant what I said to you, even if I messed up.”

There it was again. you had wanted to hear for weeks, and yet it still didn’t feel the way you thought it would. The words sounded sincere, but sincerity didn’t erase the hurt she’d caused.

Your heart skipped, the weight of her words pressing down on you. You wanted to believe her—wanted to believe there was still something real there—but the ache of what she’d done was still fresh. Before you could respond, Layla reappeared, her presence breaking the tension like a knife to a balloon.

“Sis, Everything good here?” she asked, her tone casual but her eyes narrowed as they flicked between you and Abby.

“Fine,” you said quickly, grabbing your drink and standing up. “I was just heading inside.”

You brushed past Abby, The feeling of her strong shoulder against yours sent a shiver down your spine but it quickly vanished. feeling her eyes linger on you as you walked away. The second somewhat apology had come, or more so admission of guilt..but the question of if it was genuine still bounced around in the air.

——-

The night dragged on, Layla throwing more distractions your way than you could handle. They were almost working. “we’re about to play pong in the living room. You in?” You hesitated, glancing toward the back door. You could still feel Abby’s presence out there, like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

Layla nudged you. “Come on, forget her for a minute. This is supposed to be fun, remember?”

Sighing, you relented. “Fine. But only if I’m on your team. I’m not carrying someone else.”

Layla grinned, pulling you toward the living room where a makeshift table had been set up. Red solo cups were lined up in neat triangles on either end, and a group of people were already cheering loudly as a ball arced through the air and splashed into one of the cups.

——-

The game quickly became a small escape—a distraction that let you focus on something other than Abby’s lingering words. You and Layla made a solid team, racking up points and earning loud cheers from the group that had gathered to watch.

For a while, it felt like the knot in your stomach was starting to loosen. You were finally feeling normal. Before this torture of the Abby Anderson web. The laughter, the competitive smack talk, and Layla’s overbearing teasing were enough to keep your mind occupied.

But then, just as you were lining up a shot, you caught sight of her. Abby had come back inside, her towering frame impossible to miss as she leaned against the wall near the kitchen, arms crossed. Her eyes were on you.

You locked hers with her mid throw—You missed the shot.

Layla noticed immediately, following your gaze. “Seriously?” she muttered under her breath. “She can’t leave you alone for five minutes?”

“Lay, Let it go,” you said quickly, trying to shake it off, but the distraction was already setting in.

Abby didn’t move, didn’t say anything. She just watched you, her expression unreadable. no matter how much you tried to focus on the game, her presence was like vacuum, pulling your attention back to her again and again. You hated the small flutter in your stomach swirling with irritation and hurt.

——-

The alcohol was settling in now, warmth washing over, blurring the sharp, harsh edges of the world around you. The chatter from the living room blurred into the heavy bass of the music, and Layla’s voice faded into the background as you excused yourself, weaving through the crowd toward the bathroom.

Inside, the sounds of the party fell away, leaving only the hum of dim lights and the distant thrum of the music through the walls. You leaned against the sink, as you stared at your reflection. still slightly damp from the dip earlier you turned to find a towel to dry off fully.

emotional weight of the night hitting you like a bricks, feeling your chest tighten as the flashes of the past month began to pour in now that you were alone with no distractions.

The push and pull was maddening. Every time you tried to move away from it, she showed up. Every time she spoke, she cracked open wounds you were desperate to let heal. How can her words be the bullet and bandage at the same time?

Why can’t you just let me go?

The door creaked open behind you, and you froze, meeting Abby’s reflection in the mirror. She stepped inside, closing the door behind her with a quiet click.

“Abby—”

“I had to,” she interrupted, her voice low and raw. “I couldn’t just…watch you out there and say nothing.”

You turned to face her, your back pressed against the sink. “We’ve already said enough.”

“Clearly not,” she said, her gaze pleading once again. as she took a step closer. “You think I don’t see it? You’re hurting. And I know I’m the reason why.”

Her words hung heavy in the air, cutting through the haze of alcohol just enough to make your chest ache. “Then why do you keep doing this?” you asked, your voice breaking. “Why can’t you just leave me alone if you’re not going to—”

“I don’t want to leave you alone,” she said, closing the distance between you. Her voice softened, but her expression was anything but. “You think I don’t feel it too? You think I don’t hate myself for how I’ve hurt you?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Abby’s strong hands were on your face, pulling you toward her. Her lips crashed into yours, desperate and messy, the heat of the moment fueled by the alcohol coursing through your system and the unresolved tension between you. You dropped the towel you had in hand and clinger onto her to steady you both.

You said you were done, she was supposed to be a closed chapter. So this wasn’t the best idea—you both knew that. The taste of tequila lingered on her lips, and your thoughts screamed at you to pull away, but your body didn’t listen. Your fingers tangled in her shirt as you kissed her back, a mix of anger, longing with a swirl of so many other emotions you couldn’t and wouldn’t name.

The kiss deepened, your back pressing harder against the sink as her hands slid to your waist, holding you like you might disappear. Her tongue darting into your mouth when gasped at her grasp on your hips. pull away. Pull away!

You couldn’t. For a moment, the world outside the bathroom disappeared. There was no party, no pain, no lingering questions. just the two of you, caught in something reckless. as the kiss broke, reality crashed back in. Abby’s forehead rested pressed against yours, her breathing uneven. You couldn’t open your eyes, knowing it would make the moment too real. The weight of what was happening would crash back into your mind if you did. Your mind once again a hailstorm of emotions and unspoken words.

“Abs…This doesn’t fix anything,” you whispered.

“I know,” Abby said, her voice low and hoarse. “But I can’t help it. Please just…please just this once”

She couldn’t help it and Neither could you.

As soon as you gave her the green light, your lips were back together like you were glued together.

Her tongue gently teased at your lower lip gently, silently asking for permission to deepen the kiss. Her other hand moved from your hip to wrap around your waist, her fingers gently holding onto the back of your shirt, pulling you closer still.

The moment you gave her access, abby’s tongue darted back into your mouth, her moan muffled by the kiss as she began to deepen the kiss. Her hand on your lower back began to explore your body, slowly tracing up and down your sides while she kissed you. Clearly missing how you felt in her hands.

She felt as if her body was almost completely pressed against yours now, her hands and lips practically greedy as they continued to explore, both her hands tracing up and down your sides, over your hips, and your body pressed against hers, her tongue continuing to gently explore your mouth, tasting you, wanting more of you, needing more of you.

Abby’s breathing became heavy and ragged as the kiss went on, her entire body continuing to react more and more as the kiss continued, her hands continuing to trace over your body, her hips gently grinding against yours, a small moan slipping past her lips again as she began to kiss you with more and more urgency. You were sure she was going to devour you at this point. She felt as if she was losing herself in the kiss, feeling as if the only thing that mattered was how your body felt against hers, how your tongue felt in her mouth, how your body was pushing her against the wall, her moans getting louder and louder the more the kissed.

You were surprised and slightly disappointed when she pulled away, wanting to continue the kiss. breathing heavily, trying to catch your breath, lips slightly swollen from the kiss, cheeks flushed as your eyes slowly opened.

her eyes tracing from yours to your slightly swollen lips, enjoying how they still looked from the kiss. Her hands were still resting gently on your hips, almost like she couldn’t bring herself to let go of your body. Not again. Not after all this time apart. Even though it was her fault.

Abby sighs of relief and moans softly at the feeling of your hands on her hips. You gave into the moment and ran your hands over the places you missed most. her body responding instantly to your touch. She leans in, pressing her mouth to your neck, her lips trailing hot kisses along the soft skin there.

Abby smiles against your skin as she feels your response, her kisses becoming more intense as she nips and sucks at your neck. Her hand slides up to tangle in your hair, holding your head in place as her other hand grips at your hip, pulling you closer, if that’s even possible at this point. she continues to kiss and bite at your neck, but she wants more. She wants to taste you, to re-explore every inch of you. missing the way you sounded and squirmed under her. Without warning, she drops suddenly to her knees, her hands working quickly at the fastenings of your jeans. Those blue eyes flick up to meet yours, a hint of mischief in them as she works the buttons on your jeans. you gasp as she began to undo your bottoms, hips bucking slightly with anticipation. She can hear your breath coming in shorter bursts. She feels the hand tighten on her shoulders, as you watch her work. All rational thoughts are out the window and did a full 180. Her hands push at the fabric, tugging them down over your hips until they're around your ankles. Truth be told, she didn’t want to double check in fear you’d pull away.

She wastes no time in moving forward, her mouth immediately pressed against the soft, sensitive skin of your plush inner thigh.

The kisses move higher, her tongue tracing patterns along your thighs as her hands grip your hips, keeping you pinned against the bathroom wall. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Flushed, hand in her hair, biting your lip in response to her mouth so close to where you wanted her. mind too fuzzy to care about if this was a good idea anymore.

Abby leans in and presses her mouth against the soft material of your underwear. her tongue tracing the edge of the material as her hands slide up and down your thighs, gripping at your skin. She glances up at you from time to time, watching your expressions as she works, every sigh and sigh like a sign telling her to keep going.

“Abs…please”

She hears you gasp her name and moans in response, the sound muffled by the fabric of your underwear. She reaches up and pulls the material away with a quick tug, her mouth immediately moving to taste you directly, her tongue sliding over your folds, desperately separating them.

Tongue plunging into your walls.

the slight was almost to much, as leaned your head back onto the wall in pleasure. her tongue-fucking you, face buried so deep between your legs you weren’t sure if she was even breathing, and honestly didn’t care.

Dropping a hand to grip onto her hair, needing to steady yourself to not buckle completely.

She slid a hand up your hips to cup around one of your breast. Needing at the skin, like she was trying to re-memorize the lines and dips of your body. When she squeezed a little on the swell of your breast

You groaned and involuntarily thrusting your hips up, giving her access to push her tongue further into your wet gummy yet needy entrance

then drops the hand completely to draw messy circles around the tense bud of your clit.

All you could do half lidded was watch the scene of her working on your pussy for the third time you’d allowed her between your legs, in the bathroom mirror. One strong veiny hand gripping on your hip to keep you steady and the other filling the bathroom walls with sounds of sin. The sloshing of her thick fingers working against you restlessly. finding its home in the warm, wet folds of your cunt. Thumb out to press messy circles on the aching bud of your clit.

Your words were slurred pleas to go faster, give you move. subconsciously wanting her to tire herself out on pleasing you, in slight payback of the hell she’d been putting you through these past few weeks.

“Faster abs..faster” you begged gripping her hair into you as close as she could be.

Those desperate blue eyes watch every reaction you gave her. Obeying your wishes she draws her fingers out and plunge them back into you again in a quicker manner.

your eyes rolled back. gripping her braid so tight you’d think you’d pull her thoughts out.

Jesus, she kept brushing on a spot deep inside you with the pads of her fingers. Thankfully, She never faltered, plunging her fingers knuckle-deep at whatever pace you mumbled out. You two were completely lost in the moment. The room was so hot, with hurt, and pure need.

Every hurtful moment that flashed through your mind caused you to rut of your hips faster against her face. If you couldn’t punch it, you were going to fuck it into oblivion.

your walls were sensitive you’re clamping around her fingers. Head fallen back on the wall.

Abby can hear it in your voice, the way your words are coming out in broken gasps and moans, the way you're trembling and pressing against her.

you couldn’t take it anymore, squeezing your thighs together around her head. And crying out through your teeth as you let the orgasm take you.

Back jolting off the wall as you let the flash of white from your eyes squeezing shut. and shudder as you placed a hand on her shoulder to stay upright. Catching your breath and slowly opening your eyes once more, seeing yourself in the mirror once again.

A mess.

—-

“We— Jesus… we can’t keep doing this…this is so stupid Abby I—“ you panted out. Tugging her head back from between your legs to look up at you.

but the sound of a knock at the door interrupted

“Hey, some of us need the bathroom too, you know!” a voice called from outside, followed by a chorus of laughter.

You both froze, caught in the intimacy of the moment and the sudden reminder of where you were. Abby’s eyes stayed locked on yours, looking up at you. Hands on your hips still. searching for something…maybe forgiveness, maybe understanding..but you couldn’t give it to her. Not yet. Especially not after what you just gave into.

——-

Last few chapters on Sunday! Thank you for reading so far :p💓💐💞 will proofread later, I’m half asleep 💤

—-

Taglist cuties: @deadbolted @grey-jedi12 @ceylnisgone @evabby @abby-anderson-wifey @icedsimpsayo @elle-girlylesbian

[band--psycho]

Zayne x Reader - Stitches

Part one of my 'They find out you got hurt on a mission' series. This will include Zayne, Sylus, Xavier and Rafayel! I'll be posting the other stories over the next few days, please let me know if you want to be tagged in any of them!

Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated!

Thank you all for the continued support! I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

Requests are open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over.

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

L&DS Masterlist / Zayne Masterlist / Join My Taglist

Warnings: Injuries, needles, injuries being stitched

The moment Zayne was notified that you were in the hospital because of a mission, he pretty much dropped everything. 

Was it his only day off in god knows how long? 

Yes. 

Did he care? 

No. 

The only thing he cared about in that moment, was you. 

Greyson had informed him that your injuries weren’t too bad; you weren’t going to die from them, you just needed to rest for a little while, but that still didn’t stop Zayne from breaking a few speed limits on the way to the hospital. 

“Does it really need to be stitched?” he heard you ask when he reached your room; easily noticing the panic in your voice. 

You were a hunter, and a good one at that, not much scared you, except for two things; spiders and needles. 

“I can do it,” he said; emerging from behind the open door. 

The nurse who was going to stitch you up didn’t argue with him, she just gave you both a polite smile before walking out of the door. 

Leaving you alone with Zayne.

“Zayne-” you quizzically asked, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you looked at him; you were told it was his day off today. And in all honesty, you were somewhat relieved when you found this out, not wanting to have a lecture about why going on a solo mission was a bad idea. 

He walked around to the other side of the bed; his eyes narrowing at the wound on your leg. 

It wasn’t the worst wound he’d seen; not by a long shot, but it was a deep cut and he could only imagine how much it was hurting you. 

“I thought it was your day off,” you continued, watching as he picked up the needles from the sterilized metal tray on the table next to you. 

“It is,” he answered simply, picking up the thread, slipping it through the needle with ease. 

“Then why are you-” 

You felt your words trail off as he put some surgical gloves on and sat on the side of the bed, hovering the needle over your wound. 

You knew this was going to hurt; it always did, especially seeing as you hadn’t any anesthetic to numb the area; that would’ve just meant more needles and you didn’t want that. 

You just wanted to get this wound stitched up so you could go home. 

“You need to relax,” Zayne said, his voice softer this time, as he lightly pushed the needle into your skin.

“I’m trying,” you sighed, closing your eyes and taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself down and block out the pain. 

“What happened?” he asked; hoping that his question may help to distract you from the stitching he was doing. 

Normally something like this could be treated in minutes; but because you were so scared of needles he didn’t want to rush you, especially seeing as you’d had no medication to numb the pain. But he also thought that sitting in complete silence would only allow your brain to focus more on the pain. 

“A wanderer caught me off guard,” you explained simply, purposefully leaving out the fact that you went there on your own. 

He glanced up at you with an almost knowing look before turning his attention back to stitching your wound, “Where was your partner?” 

There it was. 

The question you were dreading.

“I uh-” you began; hissing as the needle went through the middle of your wound, “I was on my own.” 

Zayne wasn’t surprised by your answer; the whole reason why hunters teamed up was to prevent things like this from happening, and if you were hurt he knew that your partner would be here with you, either injured themselves or here to support you. 

But instead you were alone. 

“You know you shouldn’t go on missions alone,” he pointed out;  and you did. You knew it was risky, hunting down wanderers on your own always was and you certainly didn’t make a habit of doing it; based on what you’d read in the report, you thought you could handle it. 

And for the most part you did; it was just that one wanderer that had been lurking behind you; you knew it was there, but by the time you’d turned around and fired your first shit at it, it was already too late. 

It was a lucky hit. That was all; and you defeated it just like you had all the rest. 

“I know,” you said knowingly, trying to ignore the pain that was rushing through your leg. 

Only a few more seconds had passed before the wound on your leg was all stitched up courtesy of Zayne; it still hurt, a lot, but at least this way it wasn’t going to bleed anymore. 

“Don’t go on a mission alone again,” he started, placing the needle back down on the tray next to you before removing his gloves, “if you need help, call me,” 

A small smile came onto your face; but Zayne was no hunter, he was a doctor, it wasn’t his job to do that, and that’s why she softly replied back to him “Zayne, that’s sweet but you’re not hunter, it’s not your job to help me,”

“No, it’s my job to look after you and keep you safe,” he rebutled; meeting your eyes before glancing down at the wound on your leg; it was going to scar, but the scar should fade in time; and he’d done his best to make sure that the stitch was as neat as it possibly could be. 

“You were lucky this time,” he continued, his fingers lightly hovering over the wound,  a million different scenarios rushing through his mind about what could’ve happened ....you could’ve died… “what if you’re not next time?”

He knew the risk of being a hunter. 

He knew that sometimes things happened that were out of your control. 

He also knew that you were a great hunter; but if today had proven anything, it was that solo missions were a bad idea, no matter how skilled you were. 

“Zayne-” you began, but your words trailed off when he placed his hand softly on yours; “No more solo missions.”

He wasn’t asking you, he was pleading with you, and that’s when you noticed the worry forming in his eyes. 

“No more solo missions,” you repeated with a small smile, hoping that that would be enough to ease his worry. 

And to an extent it was; he still worried about you of course, but he hoped your words were true, and that if anything like this happened again, you’d call him.

And regardless of what he was doing; he’d be there, to protect you.

Always.

Tagging:

@xacatalepsyx @the-slytherin-poet @deathkat657 @princess-harvey @callme-amaya @boobearymuch @comatosebunny09 @ryuustoru @evilldentists @hao-ming-8 @ladyparamount @ayatoq @cheesemachine44 @popcorn-mochi01 @thegalaxysedge22 @hotdogcookie @book-dragon03

[manachiichan]

Rooting for you

(Headcanons)

Synopsis: An Alternate reality where you ended up with the Marines instead. Having watched the series, you could only trust Koby with your well being.

Pairing: Koby x Isekaid!Fem!Reader

Spoilers from Water 7 and Marineford! Part of my Isekai series!

Mentions of having majored in marine biology cuz why not...

Just request for part two if anyone wants more...!

|| One Piece Masterlist ||

"Hey...Is she alive?"

"She just fell out of nowhere..."

"Um....Excuse me...?"

Hearing murmurs of concern and skeptism, you moved slightly before letting out a groan as the sun's ray hit your form. You winced as the light stings your slightly drowzy eyes, slowly opening them, you see dozen of figures looming over your form.

All of them being men wearing a white uniform vest and white caps. Your half concious self immediately panicked, overthinking of multiple possibilities the moment your gaze saw that almost every single one of them were armed.

You were lying on a wooden floor, in your pajamas, having no clue of what was going on. The last thing, you remembered was cramming up for 2 days straight for your upcoming exams, before passing out, the moment you took a break.

And somehow...You sat there, having a mental breakdown with a group of unindentified individuals, thinking that you were somehow kidnapped.

"What's the hell is all commotions is about...?"

A burly old man who wore a white suit, an animal hat and a huge coat like cape came through the crowd. He look like he had just woken up from a nap with how annoyed he was.

"Huh...? Who is this little girl...?"

You blinked. You know this man, and somehow you couldn't help but raise a finger on where you have seen him before..

But you soon got your answer when two smaller figures pushed through the crowds.

'No way...'

Pink hair, that noticeable scar underneat a green floral bandana and dark purple glasses. A long haired blonde man besides him. The same pink haired man knelt infront of you with an concerned look on his face.

You would have commented that it was a good cosplay but there was no way they were not real.

"Are you okay, miss...?"

Those gentle tone of pure concern, no cosplay could never replicate one of the characters you personally know and love.

You were in One Piece.

More importantly infront of the eyes of the marines.

"...Huh...?!"

Even if the marines were literary the noble good guys/heroes in the eyes of the people, they were still one of the major antagonists of the whole franchise.

So you were honestly freaking out, that you couldn't help but become feral every time one of those marine npcs tried to approach you. You knew they meant well and was only trying to make you feel at ease around them, but you couldn't help it.

You were watching the series on the pirates' perspectives and that gave you a bad impression of them.

After the whole fiasco, seeing that they were more of the threat to you than you were to them, they began treating you as if you were a delicated flower. As you were terrified, confused and unarmed, the definition of a prey under the watchful gaze of predators.

And with how their sense of justice is, it almost seems unfair for you. In their eyes, you're mostly an innocent civilian. Suspicious but purely innocent in a way.

And for the most part, you somehow understood their behavior. You were in the world where men would literary fawn over any beautiful women that they would let her trample over them. You can't help but question once in a while, how ridiculous and stupid that logic is.

And you are a woman, you couldn't help but wonder how good looking you were in their eyes for even allowing you to do what you want in their ship.

"Which Island are you from?"

"Not here..."

"North, South, East, or West blue? Where from there?"

"No where..."

Garp was mostly laid-back around you. Although he asked a few questions regarding where you lived since he was hoping to drop you off at the nearest habitable Island they see.

But there was something that made him stop, so he decided to just let you be.

You were mostly honest with him, although you decide against on telling him that you were from another world where his was nothing but fictional.

Besides, he could always knock you out with a single punch if you turned out to be a threat.

And truth to be told, you have nowhere else to go. So he took pity on that.

Because you were a helpless woman who have no where else to go, his men literary went on strike when they heard that he was about to throw you off on an island, like how he did with his grandsons

What he didn't know was, as a student who has zero sleep and tends to over think over the most simplest things, you already thought ahead and made plans on what you have to do if you want to last long.

After reading a few isekai manga and transmigration korean manhwas in your little spare time, you decided to use the knowledge of the plot and wikipedia that you have already memorized by heart.

So far, the marines are the safest options to be with if you want to survive.

Even if they keep getting their ass kicked by the worst generations and pirates who has more than hundred million bounties.

But even so, they were still trained professionals, its either that or die trying to adapt.

And out of all the marines in Garp's ship, Koby was the safest option.

You followed him around like a lost child and he was happy to help you to adjust on the ship.

And since, Koby is a literal sweetheart, He doesn't mind you constantly being around him. Infact, he found it flattering how you trust him out of everyone on the ship.

And where Koby is, there is also Helmeppo. He was suspicious of you at first but gradually warmed up to you.

And now you have an older brother figure who is also your bodyguard, throwing glares at any unwanted attention thay his fellow marines constantly throw.

"It's gonna storm soon, better to be prepare..."

"Ah...Theres gonna be a pirate ship in that horizon...Shouldn't you go after them...?"

".....Someone will fall on that stairs soon...."

As days passed, somehow, you noticed how you were able to predict things before it could happen.

Was it a somehow gift from the god who sent you into this world? Anyways, you took that to your advantage and now you're pretty more useful than before.

And since then, almost every single soldier on board had been constantly asking you on predicting the weather or even their own luck.

Koby would fret on overworking yourself seeing how dark your eyebags had become.

"Are you getting enough sleep? Do you need to visit the infirmatory..?

"Koby, I'm fine. This is a normal thing I often do back home..."

"Not sleeping is normal?! You could kill yourself at this rate....!"

Eventually he put his foot down, scolding anyone who even tried to ask you to use your new ability...

Eventually words gotten really quick, or maybe the marines reported back to the headquarters since even Sengoku is made aware of your existence.

Your ability is quite useful, so he inlisted you as a cadet in the navy much to your distain.

But hey, you managed to convince Garp to go easy on you, since you would never even survive his training.

And you learned it the hard way. Your body is otherworldly, and is a bit different from the body of steel that these characters have. You would never survive being tossed to the mountains...

Because well....It's Garp.

Koby had taken over your training. Teaching you combat in the most gentle ways he could do. One in a while, Helmeppo would join you two and pointing out the wrongs, helping you out with correcting the techniques they use.

This brought the three of you closer than before. Now, everyone expects you to be either with one of them if they seek you out.

But most of the time, you were with Koby. And if he was busy, you would be with Helmeppo, either asking for pointers or even fooling around.

But if they weren't available......you were with Garp. He learned to tone down his training with you after he literary sent you to the infirmatory with a single punch.

And you didn't heal up completely until a month later. Putting your training on stand by.

Again, his men literary forgot that he's their vice admiral with how they literary ganged up on them for breaking your fragile bones like that.

Until Garp's ship sailed to Water 7, you immediately knew what was up...

Koby and Helmeppo were really confused. You were literally just dying from training a few minutes ago. But as soon as they mentioned going to Water 7, it was as if you came back from the dead.

"Is there something wrong, (Name)-san...?"

"You wouldn't understand, Koby..."

You fawned over Luffy and Zoro as soon as you saw them... They both look amazing in person...! Minus the fact that you could literally smell their body odors from miles away.

Sometimes, you wonder why the women of their crew managed to survive smelling their scents all the time.

At least Koby and Helmeppo bathes often. They knew how important personal hygiene is anyways.

Yet somehow, you can't help but feel that you betrayed both Koby and Helmeppo, given that the blonde was giving you a look of disbelief and betrayal, seeing how you literally cheered the pirates over them.

The betrayal...! You're not his little sibling anymore!

Although, Koby was happy that he was able to introduce you to his friend. He can't help but feel that you were much more of a fan than he ever was.

Especially Zoro. You just won't stop staring at him. Especially ok those hard muscles of his.

But at that moment, a thought came into his mind. At this point, you know a lot more about everyone than they know about you. It made him feel guilty that he barely knew anything about your likes or dislikes.

So he made more effort to get to know you better.

You have a vast knowledge of the sea, much to the marines' surprise. Koby couldn't help but smile, seeing the way your eyes sparkled as you rambled on about ocean life. The ecosystem of the water around them and the life in it.

Although you couldn't read the world's letters, he was happy enough to teach you read and write. Giving him an opportunity to get close to you more.

And once in a while, Koby found himself, having to spend his night shifts with you, reading you books of the Grand line's marine biology. Watching your every reaction.

The way you have a huge smile on your face and how you turn to him with an excited look, showing a page of something you liked and wanted to share with him.

And without having to reveal that much to him, you would talk about your old life back home before your sudden transmigration. How you were simply struggling to meet ends, studying hard for exams. Getting a degree, although you doubt that will happen now that you were here.

Koby understood now. Why do you look on the verge of passing out when you first came onboard the Vice Admiral's ship. How you were frantic about not being able to take the exams anymore and how he had to calm you down.

Compared to those days, you look more alive and vibrant as the months pass by. You were more closed off but now, you were willing to share this much about yourself.

"(Name)-san...Do you like spending time with us...?"

"Ofcourse...! You guys literally took me in when I needed it the most. I like being here with you..."

Your comment made his heart thump louder than usual. There was relief and joy when he heard your words and something he couldn't understand.

He shook his head, deciding to ignore the odd yet pleasant sensation in his stomach for now.

He really likes spending time with you, too. He likes how you really paid a lot of attention and never once tried to make him uncomfortable.

And you managed to worm yourself into Helmeppo's good side too. It was as if you knew what to say around them.

You can't tell them that you basically watched the whole series, read the manga and even binge read the entire one piece wikipedia though.

Until the report of the upcoming war came. Koby noticed how your demeanour suddenly changed.

You were more anxious than usual. You even lack sleep, as if you reverted back to the time, you first suddenly appeared on the ship.

You were muttering and mumbling more than usual, always lost in deep thoughts.

"...I'm....running out of time....."

".....I...should make a difference....but given how I still lack the skills...."

"Can I......save.....him....?"

You asked Garp himself to finally train you again, much to everyone's surprise. There was a look of determination on your face. You were on a personal mission anyways.

Garp thought that you were finally growing some backbone so he didn't think that much of it. You were now a marine. You can take on a little training.

Little means hell. But Garp is clearly slightly holding back due to your body not being used nor exposed to this kind of torture.

You know that you were literally speed running but you were running out of time.

It was about the time of his capture now. And soon enough, you'll be entering the war that will determine the next course of action of the entire world.

And during the evening, Koby would be the one mentoring you. He was more gentle and less brutal than Garp was, at the same time, he often pointed out the mistakes you did in the day.

"Stay close to us, (Name)-san! Helmeppo-san and I can't protect you if you're out of our sights..!"

"No wait...! I can take care of myself...!

"What are you talking about?! We're in a warzone...! We have to stay together...!"

The Summit war was far worse than it was in the anime. There was blood and debris everywhere. Everyone was dying from left and right.

Seeing the man that drove many fans to tears in the center platforms to be executed, surrounded by the top dogs of the Navy, gave you a reality check.

You can't change anything. You can't speed run through it all. It was an event that was truly unavoidable.

You were no main character like those isekai stories you were all so familiar about. You don't have any special skills to be anything special enough to bend the plot that Oda-sensei created.

Koby and Helmeppo were still far stronger than you, yet they were completely at the mercy of the war. All they could do was shield you from the overwhelming gales of power between the pirates and the Navy higher ups.

You couldn't do anything. You froze when a pirate came, raising their sword to end you. It was different experiencing it in real life.

Helmeppo saved you. Given that Koby was out of it, he was the one making sure that the two of you were still alive.

It was...really different...You finally had a taste of reality. Transmigration wasn't something to be treated with excitement of leaving the world you grew up with for a world you always dreamt of going. It wasn't all sunshine and rainbows than what most people would expect.

Gathering your wits, you decided to focus. Ace's death was inevitable. No matter how much you wanted to avoid it. This was reality.

"Koby...!"

Koby was experiencing his awakened observation Haki for the first time. And you knew how hard it is for him, hearing the dying thoughts of each marines and pirates alike in the war. The voices that overlap one after another before eventually fading.

You provided support for him at this time, attempting to silence his hearing by cradling his head as close to you as possible even though you knew it was useless. Atleast, all you can do now was provide comfort for him.

Tears threaten to fall from your eyes, this was your new reality. All you can do was watch from the sidelines how truly cruel it really was in the world you only saw in the anime and manga series.

You were not the main character, so you couldn't make any difference. You can only watch as the soon to be Fleet Admiral plunged his overwhelming devil fruit power to an unsuspecting Luffy before Ace took the heat.

You couldn't change anything at all. So what was the point of being here in the first place?

"....That's...what you been feeling all this time, (Name)-san..?"

You froze. Before glancing down to see Koby staring at you with tears streaming down from his eyes.

He read your thoughts accidentally. Using the Haki he recently just awakened.

© manachii 2024 ~ all rights reserved. please do not repost, copy, etc. any of the works I made.

[lvnleah]

three kids chaos.

the very last part of the williamson’s thank you so much for supporting this series and sticking around! I hope you’ve loved them as much as I have <33

find the series masterlist here!

November 2032 | 7, 3 & 3 weeks old

Mornings had always been hectic, but this one felt especially chaotic. Life with three kids was a whole new level of busyness you hadn’t quite prepared for. Amelia was only three weeks old, and Leah, still recovering from her C-section, had been moving slower than usual. Understandably so, of course, but it meant that the morning routines had fallen almost entirely on you.

Leah sat on the sofa, feeding Amelia, her body still showing signs of exhaustion from the night before. You noticed the way she shifted carefully, trying to get comfortable without wincing. Amelia was nursing quietly, unaware of the storm brewing around her. Meanwhile, Finley and Ellie were in full-on chaos mode, racing through the house like tiny, noisy whirlwinds.

“Finley, where are your shoes?” you called from the living room, already knowing the answer was likely nowhere logical.

“They’re in the kitchen!” he shouted from upstairs. You sighed, shaking your head. Why they were in the kitchen, you had no idea, but at this point, you didn’t have time to question it. Shoes in the kitchen had become a regular occurrence over the past few weeks. 

Ellie, on the other hand, was on the verge of a meltdown. She stood by the sofa, her lip quivering as she watched Leah cradle Amelia. Her little face, usually so expressive and full of life, had a pout to it now that was all too familiar. She hadn’t quite gotten used to her new role as the middle child and was clearly struggling with jealousy.

“I don’ wanna to go to school,” Ellie whined, crossing her arms over her chest. “I want to stay with Mumma and Mimi!”

You caught Leah’s sympathetic glance as she tried to juggle feeding Amelia and comforting Ellie at the same time. Leah adjusted Amelia in her arms, giving her a soft kiss on the forehead before looking back at Ellie.

“Ellie, bubba, you’ll see us after school,” Leah said gently, her voice soft and reassuring. “Mumma needs to rest today, and Mimi’s probably just going to sleep all day!”

“But I want to stay!” Ellie’s voice had risen, her frustration spilling over. She climbed onto the sofa and squished herself between Leah and the cushions, wrapping her little arms around Leah in a desperate hug. 

“Hey, Ells,” you said softly, kneeling in front of her and gently brushing her hair back from her face. “I know it’s hard right now, but Mumma needs her rest, and I’ll bet you’ll have lots of fun at school today. You can tell everyone about how you’re the best big sister!”

Ellie sniffled, her lip still trembling, but her eyes were glued to yours, “Mimi doesn’t like me?” Her voice was so small. 

Leah immediately shook her head, shifting a bit to make more room for Ellie. “Oh, sweetheart, Mimi already loves you so much. She’s just too little to tell you right now. But she’s going to grow up thinking you’re the coolest, I promise.”

Ellie didn’t respond right away, clearly weighing her options. After a long pause, she finally nodded, though her pout lingered. “Okay, I go school,” she mumbled, climbing off the sofa and letting go of Leah.

You let out a quiet sigh of relief, kissing the top of Ellie’s head as she stood next to you. “Why don’t you help me find Finley’s shoes? Then we can get your coat on and head out.”

With the crisis momentarily paused, you and Ellie managed to track down Finley’s shoes—why they were in the kitchen was anyone’s guess—and wrangled him into his coat. Between stuffing backpacks, packing lunches, and making sure everyone had what they needed, it felt like a miracle when you finally got all three kids out the door and strapped into their car seats.

Leah was moving slowly as she eased herself into the passenger seat. You gave her a hand, watching as she winced a little before settling in, “Thanks for getting the kids sorted.”

“Always,” you replied, helping her buckle her seatbelt. You leaned in, kissing her cheek lightly. 

After dropping Finley and Ellie off at school—just in time, thankfully—you drove to the Arsenal training ground. Today was a special day. It was the first time you were bringing Amelia to meet the team, and though the morning had been chaotic, you were both excited.

 Leah had been looking forward to introducing Amelia to the girls, and you hoped it would give her a break from the intensity of the past few weeks. She was also having a quick meeting with the coaches about easing herself back into football. 

She may be 35 but she was still playing for the club. She’d retired last year from playing internationally but she hadn’t given up playing for Arsenal yet. However, you were dreading the day it came. 

Amelia had fallen asleep shortly after getting in the car, her tiny fingers curling and uncurling as she dreamed. 

“Think the girls are going to lose it when they see her?” you asked, smiling over at Leah as you drove.

Leah chuckled softly, nodding. “Oh, absolutely. They’ve been waiting for this since I told them I was pregnant. Katie’s been texting me non-stop asking when she can meet her.”

You both laughed, the stress of the morning easing a bit as the familiar sight of the training ground came into view. Parking the car, you unbuckled your seatbelt and immediately moved to help Leah out. She took your hand, her movements slow and careful, but there was a quiet determination in the way she stood, her eyes full of warmth as she looked at you.

“Ready?” you asked, grabbing the diaper bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

“As I’ll ever be,” Leah replied with a small smile. She lifted the car seat carefully, Amelia still sound asleep inside, completely unaware of the big introduction awaiting her.

As soon as you walked into the lounge area, the reaction was immediate.

“Oh my god, is that her?!” Katie sprinted toward you, her face lighting up with pure excitement. Behind her, the rest of the girls followed suit, gathering around like a crowd waiting to see a celebrity.

“Everyone, meet Amelia,” Leah announced, pulling back the blanket just enough for everyone to see the tiny sleeping face.

The room erupted in coos and gasps of adoration. “She’s so tiny!” Jen whispered, her eyes wide as she leaned in closer.

“She’s perfect,” Beth said softly, looking between you and Leah with a warm smile. “How are you both doing?”

Leah leaned into you, her exhaustion palpable but so was the love in her eyes. “We’re managing. It’s been a lot, but Amelia’s already worth every sleepless night.”

You wrapped your arm around Leah’s waist, pulling her a little closer, the noise of your teammates fading into the background for a moment. Amidst the chaos of kids, school runs, and sleepless nights, this was a moment of peace. A moment where you could breathe.

Leah turned to you, her eyes bright and full of affection. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice just for you. “For everything today.”

You smiled down at her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Always, love. Always.”

“Things have turned out pretty well, eh?” Leah smiled. “We’re living the life we dreamed of, pretty girl.”

“They’ve turned out perfect,” You laughed, “I wouldn’t want it to be any other way.” 

[willofthequill]

The Festival Of Dolls

Welcome back to another adventure in Mouse's Mini-verse! This time the family goes on an outing to the Hinamatsuri Festival !

If you prefer to read it on AO3 click here !

WC: 2600+

Summary: It is the day of the Hinamatsuri Festival, also known as Girls Day. Mouse is excited for food, Sukuna is craving sake, Monkey is watching everything and you're just trying to go with the flow. AKA a fun family day at a spring festival.

AN: To anyone new to my Daddy Duty series- Mouse is Sukuna's two year old daughter. Welcome to Mouse's Mini-verse!

CW: Reader called Mama but not described, family fluff, toddler in the wild, suggestive ending with 'grown up time' a bit more than implied

A/N: We are going to pretend that I did not write about traditions that were started hundreds of years post Heian era… Suspension of disbelief activate!

Heart divider by @strangergraphics All other graphics by me

“Where are we going, Papa?” Mouse asked as she walked holding her father’s pinky. 

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of them from behind. Your husband, 7’3”, shoulders almost as broad, 4 arms, mountain of a man walking with a pink hair little pixie dressed in an equally pink kimono and pink kutsu shoes, holding his little finger with her whole fist, skipping beside him. 

She looked up at the man they called a monster like he hung to sun and moon. Like her Papa made the very stars themselves. Such a Papa’s Girl.

“We are going to a Hinamatsuri festival,” he answered.

“But what it for?” Mouse asked, curious as ever. 

“It’s a festival to celebrate girls. This is the festival that will have kyoto-bina like the ones you got when you were born,” you further explained.

“You will not touch these ones either, Mouse,” Sukuna looked down at her with one of the eyes on the side of his face.

“I promise, Papa!” she gave a cheesy grin up at him. She looked behind and gave you the same grin. “Make sure Monkey knows not to touch it too, okay Mama?”

“Monkey, no touching anything,” you said, glancing down at the baby in a wrap on your chest. 

He gave you a drooly grin. You smiled as you wiped his chubby little face. He definitely had his father’s features, including having 4 eyes (minus the bone deformation), but he had your hair and eye color. 

You knew it was traditional to wear the baby on your back, but you felt better with him on your front. You were already used to people staring and gawking, so what was one more thing for them to look at if it was what made you feel comfortable? Besides, if he was on your back, you would miss out on the cute little faces he made as he discovered the world around him. 

“Papa, what we do at the Hina-mad-sushi party?” Mouse paused to pick up a rock.

“It’s Hinamatsuri Festival. No more rocks, Mouse. That’s your 10th today,” Sukuna said with exasperation.

“But Papa, look!” she excitedly pointed out another rock and started to try to drag him towards it.

Sukuna let go of her hand and caught the back of her kimono as she instantly tried to flee, lifting her up into his arms. “We will see Momo in their first bloom and I will enjoy sake.” 

“Why I no get sake?” Mouse asked, cocking her head slightly to the side.

“Because little girls cannot have alcohol.”

“But it girls day?” she replied, pressing her lips together as she looked into her father’s face.

“You’ll get plenty of sweets and treats,” you chimed in, distracting her from talk of sake. 

Mouse squealed happily and hugged Sukuna’s neck before sitting back on his arm to grab his face in her hands. “Papa!”

“What now, Mouse?” You could tell he was dreading whatever the next question would be, but he held her gaze.

“What we gonna eat first?” 

Sukuna grinned from ear to ear. “I think we shall start with hichigir i and then hishimoch i.”

“I want Sakura mochi!” Mouse cheered, throwing her hands in the air excitedly. 

“We need to find some hina arare for Monkey too,” you reminded them.

Sukuna slowed slightly and shifted Mouse to his upper arm. He reached out the hand on his lower arm to tangle his fingers with yours. He glanced down at you with a soft gaze. “And ichigo daifuku for my precious one.”

The whole town was stunning in appearance as it came alive for the festival. Buildings were decorated in vibrant colors and there were delicious foods as far as the eyes could see. Mouse and Sukuna wasted not even a second before diving into the food options and eating their fill. You happily ate your ichigo daifuku and tried bites of everything they excitedly described to you and offered while Monkey slept against your chest.

After enjoying the food selections, Sukuna stated he needed to acquire something while you were in town. Knowing Mouse as you do, you knew that standing in place for any amount of time was akin to torture for your daughter. Not wanting to deal with a melt down in public, you looked around and found your destination.

Before you began walking, you adjusted the now awake and aware Monkey so that he was upright and could look around. Mouse and you both giggled at how all 4 of his eyes became as large as kozara as he took in the colors and people. It was sometimes startling just how intelligent his gaze was. He turned back and looked at you, cocking his head to the side for a moment and then giving you a giant drooly smile, placing an equally drool covered hand on your cheek.

“Thanks, Monkey,” you  shook your head with a laugh, using a hankie you had tucked away to wipe your face.

“Him licked you with his hand!” Mouse giggled.

“That is definitely an interesting interpretation of what just happened.” Mouse came up with the most random things, never failing to make you smile.

“Can I do that to Papa?” she asked, taking your hand as you began to move. 

“I would not recommend it.”

“What about Urau-rau?”

“Not if you want to live to see another day,” you snorted softly in amusement. Not even Sukuna would be able to stop Uraume in that situation. “Let’s go with not doing it to anyone.”

“Boooooring,” Mouse huffed and pretended to deflate. You really appreciated her father teaching her that word. Not.

You walked over to where the hinadan was set up, filled to the brim with beautiful, handcrafted Hina dolls. You and Mouse spent a good amount of time pointing out to each other different sets of dolls that caught your eyes while Monkey babbled and played with your hair.

Sukuna returned to your side, smirking when he saw Monkey was up. Monkey laughed happily when he saw his Papa and then hid his face in your chest like he was shy. Mouse, as per usual went running to Sukuna as fast as she could, laughing freely with her head thrown back as Sukuna caught her and put her on his shoulder.

“Papa made me big like him!” Mouse said, hugging Sukuna’s head. “Papa! Take us to the pretty flowers now, please and thank you!”

“Why should I?” he asked, turning his head slightly and the two eyes on deformed side of his face shifting up to look at her.

“Because it’s Girls Day. That means you have to listen to me,” she stated, ignoring his glare and pointing towards the bright flowers. “That way, Papa! Please and thank you!”

“Watch it, brat. I haven’t eaten in a long time,” he warned. 

Your shoulders shook as you suppressed laughter as Sukuna headed in the direction Mouse had pointed. You followed behind listening to them go back and forth with a smile on your face. It only took about 10 feet for Sukuna to realize you were not trying to catch up. With an annoyed huff and an almost offended look on his face, he reached out his hand for yours and interlocked your fingers before he started walking again. 

You were well aware that Sukuna would rather have his nose hairs ripped out individually than admit that holding your hand was as much for himself as it was for you. You did not protest his hold at all. You loved the simple act of holding his hand and it would be unfitting to have the King of Curses walking around pouting. 

Your heart fluttered once again at the wonderful feeling of knowing that your husband needed and craved your touch just as badly and constantly as you did his. You gave his hand a squeeze and smiled up at him as you began to keep pace with him.

The orchard filled with blossoming peach trees was a breathtaking sight. The bright pink and white blossoms covered the branches of trees as far as the eye could see. The sky and clear blue sky were the perfect backdrop. It was peaceful. Serene. Not unlike the garden at your home. Maybe you could convince Sukuna to let you plant some of these

You looked up at Sukuna and smiled as he put a fallen blossom behind Mouse’s ear, making her giggle and hug his head again. Another blossom fell and Mouse managed to catch it in her hands. She giggled and pointed at you. “Papa, Mama needs one! This one! Put it in her hair too, please and thank you!”

You chuckled as he gave a dejected sigh and did as she said. But the gentleness in his eyes and the way he brushed his thumb over your cheek before he cupped it showed just how wholly it was drivel. He was just as madly in love as you were, even after all these years, and you knee it. He looked at your lips and softly said your name followed by the word, “Beautiful.”

“You better knock it off. We are in public and with our children,” you said, blushing. 

“I think it’s time we left,” he smirked at you, his eyes had a heat in them as he looked at your lips again. 

As if on queue, Mouse let out a loud yawn and leaned against her father’s head, wrapping her arms around his throat. Though still awake you could hear the tired whine setting into her voice. “I not ready to go.. I just rest here, please and thank you, Papa?”

Sukuna pulled her off his shoulder, ignoring the noise of protest she made so he could hold her in his arms more easily if she fell asleep. “It’s time to head home, Mouse. We’ve got a long walk to go.”

“I too tired, Papa. My feet will fall off. Let's just stay here, please and thank you, Papa,” Mouse tried a different angle, cuddling into the warmth and strength of her father and looking up at him with giant pleading eyes.

“If your feet fall off… Does that mean I can eat them?” Sukuna flashed his sharp teeth and tickled her leg with his long nails.

“No, Papa! Don’t eat my toes!” Mouse giggled, kicking her feet. She fisted the material of his kimono in her hands and buried her face in it. 

You couldn’t help but be amused at the horrified looks of the judgemental peasants standing within hearing range of you all. They knew who Sukuna was, and the fools were unsure if it was a joke or a threat. Which was honestly fair with your husband’s history, diet and proclivities. 

The judgement and staring had started the moment you all arrived and you were well aware that their narrowed gazes would trail after you until your forms disappeared from their line of sight. After several years with Sukuna, their whispers no longer sounded like screams. Now it sounded more akin to bugs buzzing in the summer heat. A truly fitting analogy for the gossiping gussies.

The moon was high in the sky but the time Mouse and Monkey were both asleep. Tuna, as per usual, crashed out with them held hostage in Mouse’s arms. Uraume doing whatever it was Uraume did. You and Sukuna went to sit on the engawa for a few moments alone. He set aside his tea and pulled you closer to him so he could wrap his arms around you. Another hand turned up your chin and he kissed you several times before pulling away. 

You pouted at his retreat until he pulled a package out from the hidden pocket inside his black haori. You cocked your head to the side as he set it in your hands. “What’s this?”

“If you open it you will answer your own question, precious one,” he said in a teasing tone, kissing your cheek before leaning backwards and resting on the palms of his bottom two hands. 

With a bemused look on your face you carefully unwrapped the package. Your jaw fell open and your eyes filled with tears. Sukuna was truly such a thoughtful person to those he loved…

You had smiled as you placed the Hina dolls Sukuna had bought for Mouse on the hindan. Their beautiful and ornately embroidered clothing was unlike anything you had ever seen.. “These are perfect. Mouse is going to love them. I only wish I had my own to add here with hers like many families do.”

“Did you never have them?” Sukuna had asked, learning against the wall, arms crossed and watching you.

“I did. The empress was adorned in greens and  black with a beautiful silver Fengguan while the emperor was the opposite with a silver Ritsuiōkan to match his wife,” you remembered fondly. “The night they killed my parents and burned my home to the ground my dolls were destroyed. I am glad we will never allow something like this to happen to our Mouse.”

The dolls in your hand were so similar to the ones you had had in your youth, but honestly they were even more beautiful and more ornate. They were truly stunning. The empress’s Jūnihitoe was rich shades of green while her kimono and hakama were black. She had a beautiful silver fengguan with several small black and green stones in it. The emperor’s ikkan sokutai was a rich green with black designs embroidered on it like a pattern and a Ritsuiōkanthat matched his wife’s.

Sukuna’s thoughtfulness once again had your heart going into overdrive. You set the dolls aside, giving him a little grin before launching yourself at him, catching him off guard and managing to take him down. You grinned as he laid flat against the engawa on his back beneath you as you sat now straddling his hips. You leaned over and nipped at his bottom lip.

His large hands moved to your hips, pressing you down against him. He gave you a lazy, cocky grin. “I take it I did well?”

You looked down at him, one hand braced on his broad, muscular chest. The other hand reached up and removed the comb from your hair, letting it fall down freely around you. You placed that hand on his chest as when you finished and sucked in your lower lip. You leaned down and ghosted a kiss across his lips before nipping and pulling at his bottom lip again. You felt his hands gripping you firmer as they moved further back to grope your rear. 

You pressed a kiss to the shell of his ear. “What do you think?”

In less time than it took to blink, you found yourself now flat on your back staring up into your husband’s handsome face. His hands moved to the belt on his robe as he took you in, sliding it off his shoulders as you took your time blatantly checking him out. He still wore his hakama pants, but your hands eagerly and greedily reached out to touch his tanned, contoured flesh. 

“I think I did well,” he said, leaning lower. His mouth went straight to your throat, mouthing up the column of your neck and sucking marks into your flesh as he went until he reached your ear. He nipped and tugged at the bottom lobe, enjoying the small noise you couldn’t hold back. 

“But I am not finished yet, far from it. I’ve got something else to give to you too, precious one. So just sit back…” His mouth moved to your neck and you felt his teeth drag down your skin. “Just sit back, my precious one, and relax. Just take what I give you.”

And that was exactly what you did.

[emiixuu]

blossoming devotion

a prologue to ‘the cat puppet and bunny doll’ series

💌 pairing :: harbinger!scaramouche x doll!reader

🌌 content warning :: unhealthy & developing relationship and characters, reader being referred to as ‘it’, “cannibalism” but not really since it’s just body fluid?, toxicity

📝 synopsis :: In which, you are Dottore’s creation and his thoughtful gift to Scaramouche

✒️ word count :: 3,909

🐰 author’s note :: wrote mainly to set up a lore or something eh

Fixing up your hair, the unhinged scientist gives you a smile devoid of any real warmth. He was making last touches here and there. He was quite pleased with his work. Years of studying Scaramouche has given him a great knowledge of Khaenri'ah's ancient technology.

Scaramouche was great, and all. A great experiment of his and now, he was eager to create his own ‘Scaramouche’. He had to move forward, after all. Science needs progress and you shall be it.

You’ve spent a few days with the doctor already. He was odd, but you didn’t mind. You were only observing the world around you for the first time. Dottore was the first person you have met. As far as you are concerned, he was normal. One thing you learned about him is that he loves the sound of his own voice.

He has given you a general knowledge; writing, reading, etcetera. He made sure you came with all that already. In his eyes, you will be an even more of an impressive experiment than the sixth was. He was sure of that.

You were staring at Dottore, your only focus on your creator as he was finally done with the final completion. He stepped back to analyze any mistakes in his project.

Suddenly, a sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted the both of you. Dottore didn’t seem as startled as you were.

“Why did you call me here?” The voice spoke, low and aloof, somewhat annoyed, too. He didn’t want to be here, spending time with Dottore was the last thing he wanted.

Despite his voice sharply cutting the previous peaceful atmosphere in the room, your heart thumped a little, or something akin to a heart that the doctor gave you.

Dottore smirks faintly, turning his gaze towards the person that voice belongs to, “oh, if it isn’t Scaramouche? Thank you for joining us! I wanted to show you my newest achievement you have helped me with.”

“Help you? What nonsense are you talking about again-“ the voice stops abruptly as he sees you, having not noticed you before. His eyes oscillated up and down, seemingly scanning your whole being.

You could finally get a better look at him too as Dottore moved out of the way. Another flutter hits your chest. The person in front of you was a mesmerizing beauty, sticking to your consciousness with ease. Your breath was taken away as he dissected you with his indigo eyes. Elegant and charming, fairest face you have ever seen, even if you barely seen any other. You couldn’t take your eyes away for not even a single moment.

Noticing the way you were looking at him, his expression changed from mild curiosity to confusion.

“What are you looking at?” He questions, raising an eyebrow, slightly irritated by your obtrusive staring. He wasn’t very patient.

Before you could reply, Dottore butts in, “Forgive its behaviour. You are the first other being here, except for me.”

The beautiful man, who could even be a prince, in your educated opinion, lets out a simple huff. He was seemingly satisfied with the doctor’s answer and didn’t need to pry into the matter, or didn’t really want to. After a second, he realizes what Dottore just said.

“Wait, first?” He asks, looking at Dottore with something akin to a slight interest.

“Yes! This, dear Scaramouche, is a puppet I have created with the same technology you were created with.” He replies cheerfully, clearly this was all a blast to him.

Scaramouche seems momentarily surprised, looking at you and then again at the doctor.

“Oh? You want to replace me?” He laughs, the sound of it ringing in your ears. He seemed amused by that thought. An absurd plan would that be.

“Not at all. I couldn’t replicate you, it could never be you.” He shook his head in disapproval.

“Didn’t know you liked me that much.” He snickers mockingly.

“You misunderstand. You are useful just the way you are. It would be too difficult to make a fully identical copy of you.” He explains, a bit displeased at Scaramouche for being sarcastic with him when they were discussing his important work right now. He was never a fan of his sharp tongue.

Scaramouche just rolled his eyes at his response. The time he has spent here so far was truly a pain. Getting impatient, he asks, “well, what’s it for?”

At the same time, he was at least a bit curious about you.

The doctor came to stand behind you, putting his hands on your shoulders, sighing.

“Unfortunately, this little thing? Useless.” He spoke dramatically as if it was a horrible tragedy, letting go of you and pushing you into the front of where Scaramouche stood. The action made you stumble before him. Scaramouche did not move an inch, nor tried to stabilize you.

Dottore walks closer, standing now on the side between the two of you. His voice changes back into monotone, “it is just a prototype. I had to try it first before putting my all into it, you know?”

You shift your gaze back at the doctor, shocked to hear his words. Useless? That was not what he said before. Your throat started to feel tight, eyes darting from one Harbinger to the other. Your eyes were slightly pricking as tears were threatening to fall, you didn’t understand this feeling. But you held it back, not daring to show a single emotion as you were scared to even draw attention to yourself at this moment.

“I mean, useless to me. Perhaps you could find some use for it. It would be too bad to entirely scrap it and throw it away, no?” His words were laced with mocking sympathy. He didn’t look at you anymore, concentrating his eyes on the sixth as he was interested in his reaction. You were, too.

“Tch, how careless of you to waste time and material on this then,” Scaramouche looks away from the both of you, “what use would it be to me?”

You stare at him, pitifully against your own control. You couldn’t help but plead with him with your eyes. From the moment you saw him, you felt something special about him. You couldn’t really explain it, neither did you know what it was, or why. You couldn’t let him go, couldn’t let him let you go, a strangely swift admiration flourishing within you. But you didn’t know any better.

“Hm, I don’t know? Whatever you’d like, I don’t really care. Take it as a humble gift from me.” the doctor says, smiling at him. Once again, his smile did not have any friendliness in it. He was awful at appearing kind, or perhaps, he wasn’t even trying.

“Look at it, how sad it looks!” Dottore mocks, “it’s quite literally begging you to take it.”

“Shut up.” Scaramouche clicked his tongue, bemused by the doctor.

He was offering him a gift, a non-refusable one. There were no strings attached. Still, it was a gift from Dottore, which itself sounded like a risk to take. If he didn’t take you, what would happen to you? However, why should he care? You would be just another problem on his back, he didn’t really need that.

Even so, the pitifully pathetic expression you were making forced a buried part of him out of the abyss of his memories he has forsaken, burning unpleasantly on the tip of his tongue. A part he had hidden away so thoroughly, he was sure it was gone. He was over and above these emotions. How could you, an insignificant bug beneath his foot, do that? An insignificant reminder of his past, despite not wanting to see it that way. Created and thrown away like nothing? Too ironic for his taste.

Was this a joke on him? No, why would it be? It was just the way of the world laughing in his face but he won’t let it. He denounced the world a long time ago. It did not matter to him, he was not going to give this any more thought. It was nothing. Absolutely nothing to him.

So if it’s nothing, why refuse?

“Alright, I can find some use for it.” He replies nonchalantly, acting like he was doing charity work for the doctor. You could be perhaps useful to him. Who knows? You were a puppet like him after all, assuming you are indestructible as him, you could come in handy in battle. Maybe you would end up more competent than his worthless subordinates.

He wouldn’t admit it was because he felt a small bit of pity for you, not even to himself. In any way, his thought of reason was not a lie to cover up his emotional part. He meant it, you could be of use to him.

“Perfect!” Dottore claps his hands together, satisfied that he has accepted his ‘gift’.

There was a moment of silence, the three of you just exchanging almost awkward looks. Nothing more to be said, Scaramouche seemed ready to leave. For some reason, he could not stand being in the presence of Dottore for long periods, and despite not much time has passed since he came here, he had enough of him. Too bad for him that Dottore was his colleague.

“Ah,” the doctor jumps up, remembering something he forgot to add, “before I will let you take it, I shall do a few small adjustments. In - hm - .. two days, it’s entirely yours.”

“Fine, I guess, send it through someone to my place. I’m not going to bother showing up here just to come pick it up.” He simply says, fixing his hat and turning around, leaving the room without uttering anything else. He was pretty straight-forward.

“The audacity of him.” Dottore spoke, clearly he wasn’t pleased with that, “he still didn’t learn his place it seems.”

Even with the lack of respect from the sixth, Dottore still appeared calm, “it’s fine. Let him fall onto his mouth on his own.”

Sitting on the cold floor, you look up at him. Your chin was resting on his knees. How did you get yourself in this position? Simple, he allowed you to sit near him but the only close seat to him was.. well, the floor. There were not many chairs at his place.

Putting your chin onto his knees stunned him though. You were getting bold, yet you didn’t see anything unnatural about your action. So he let it slide.

He awkwardly raises his hand, patting your head hesitantly. He was not used to showing affection. But he thought you might be deserving of it. He found your persistent clinginess adorable. Your behaviour towards him compelled him to give you a little care. After what you did for him.

It has been days since one of the doctor’s goons took you to him. During those days, you have managed to injure yourself already.

On an expedition in a land that was unknown to you, you didn’t ask for the details of your work here. You were following behind him as his other subordinates were. You kept your distance, not wanting to upset Scaramouche.

Before the expedition, he expressed distaste in the way you kept smothering him with your presence.

“Breathe in my way once more and I will leave you behind in some dark forest. We shall see if you remember my scent enough to find your way back.”

Honestly, his words gave your spine a chill. He was clearly sarcastic and not actually expecting that you would be able to find your way back to him by a scent, but with the way you were always near him made him think you might already remember his scent well and would even be capable of that. Getting lost in a dark forest though? With no idea how to get back and fetch for yourself? Terrified of his threat, you decided to ignore your nagging urge to be around him. Following him from afar was enough.

You carried out the task he has given you with a better ability than the others, causing them to give you silent dirty looks. Because how dare you appear out of nowhere and be the best out of his team already? Nevertheless, it was not surprising to you nor him that you were doing well. You were not like them, after all. You didn’t see them as a competition, such things were meaningless to you. The only thing important was that he would be pleased.

You were even given a weapon, an electrogun. You didn’t notice anyone else having that, most of the Fatui had either cryogun or hydrogun, or other weapons. Which was perhaps another reason why you were getting dirty looks. Special treatment on the first day? Unbelievable! You definitely won’t be liked amongst your peers.

After hours and hours, most of his minions were getting exhausted, from endless walking and fighting. He has over-worked them enough. Working under the sixth was not pleasant, one wrong word and one might get a slap in their face. So none of them would dare to ask for a break. But a new addition?

“Hey, you,” one of your Fatui peers gently pushes into you, eliciting a gasp of surprise from you. She smirks at your reaction a little, she whispers into your ears with a giggle, “are you not tired? Ask him if we can get a break. I’m a little shy and he’ll be nice to you since it’s your first time.”

What seemed like an innocent request was actually a trap. They were all too scared to ask for something so simple. And you, the new fresh meat in their squad, would not know the consequences yet. Serves you right for ‘parading here like you were something better’ in their belief.

“My Lord!” You spoke up, your voice trembling a little, you were still shaken from your last conversation with Scaramouche. He stops and looks at you, raising his eyebrow of what could you of all the people here want from him, “Could we take a break? She is too tired to go on anymore.”

You point out to the woman, who was now dumbstruck, not thinking you would throw her under the bus like that. She should have thought twice. However, that was not your intention, you were only saying that out of the goodness of your heart because you cared and were concerned about the health of your colleagues. Being kind to them like this will definitely make you likable, right?

Scaramouche glares at the woman, displeased at the fact she was complaining about her exhaustion. Perhaps, messing with the fresh meat was not the greatest idea. She was ready to get yelled at, but no scolding came.

He sighs, watching them. He decides to not push them any more and gives out his next orders, “fine. We will take a break here. Build tents and go get some sleep before tomorrow.”

Surprised at the way he actually agreed to the request, they didn’t need to be told twice as they started to scurry off. You didn’t move, standing behind him. He didn’t pay you attention any more, not turning around to tell you off, just observing his underlings, making sure they weren’t doing anything stupid.

You didn’t dare to talk to him either, nor get near him again. Just watching him. His focus on whatever is behind him is none, unconcerned. A bush rustling close, your eyes darting to the sound. The leaves shuffled slightly, you held your breath, not taking your gaze away from it. Perhaps it was just the wind? But you had to be sure. You step in a little closer to the bush, wanting to inspect it.

Before you could come any closer, an armed hilichurl peeks out of the bush. No one else noticed it. Your hand reaches for the electrogun but your reaction wasn’t fast enough as the hilichurl shoots before you do. A flying arrow, slicing the air as it hurls right towards Scaramouche, ignoring you entirely. Time seemed to stand still, agile on your feet, you moved hastily not thinking twice.

It all transpired so quickly. You feel sharp pain in your stomach, whimpering quietly. He turned around even before the arrow had reached you as he was ready to flick it off easily, eyes widening, not expecting you to throw yourself in front of him. He is looking away from you for a split of a moment and you are already acting ill-conceived?

A liquid akin to a blood oozing from your fragile body. It wasn't real blood, just something to mess with his senses. You wouldn’t die.

He caught you with ease before you could fall, holding your limp body close to him. How could you be so foolish? A simple hilichurl wouldn’t do anything to him. Not to mention, he had quick reflexes. He was always on alert. Yet, he couldn’t predict your action.

He looks at your wound, the red liquid staining his clothes. There is a brief hesitance from him for a moment as if thinking about something. Something forbidden.

His hand moves to the place of your wound, touch lingering around it carefully. You flinch at his invasive touch to your now sensitive and injured area. You try to push him off, not thinking straight. Oh, suddenly you wanted space? As if. He didn’t let you move an inch away from him, holding you tightly, even pulling you closer.

“Don’t move.” His voice was firm, he wasn’t taking a ‘no’ or any other form of defiance for an answer.

As you finally cease your squirming, he softens into a look of curiosity. He scoops the liquid that was leaking out of you on his finger to study it, interested in your nature. It was bright red, glistening and tantalizing, enticing an improper desire on him. As if it was a spilled fine wine, waiting to be savoured. Almost inviting him.

A normal reaction would be trying to stop your bleeding but in truth you were not in any danger. He can worry about getting you repaired later. He licks his finger, tasting your ‘blood’, “sweet.”

The word he has spoken, just below the whisper. You almost wouldn’t catch it if you weren’t in a close proximity, right in his hands. He neither grimaces at the taste nor smiles, he just wears an intensely alluring expression, with only a subtle hint of the corner of his lips moving, his eyes unreadable to you.

His actions shocked his lackeys, staring at the scene in front of them. They were frozen and rather not intervening in whatever peculiarity did Scaramouche get into. No one wanted to cross him.

“S-Sorry,” you winced as you spoke, noticing the way you smeared his clothes.

“For what?” He asks, his voice still quiet. He was not sure what you were apologizing for. For the fact your ‘blood’ was revoltingly sugary to his tastes? You should, perhaps.

“For ruining your clothes.” You reply simply, slipping in and out of consciousness, your vision blurry.

With a puzzled expression on his face, he laughs sardonically. Were you really worried over something so minor? As if your ‘blood’ was a filth on his clothes? How sweet of you, just like your insides.

You try to speak again but he shushes you softly, caressing your cheek, smudging your own blood on your face, “shh, don’t waste your energy.”

His voice was almost soothing, a cozy lullaby accompanying you to sleep. The last thing you see before your eyes become too heavy are just fleeting images of him.

Few days have passed since that occurrence. And now you were here, sitting on the floor in front of him, snuggly resting your head on his knees. Safe and sound under his fingertips.

“Hm, you might have not been made for battle,” he says thoughtfully, “did you really think one little arrow could harm me?” He muses, seemingly finding your act of putting yourself in danger to ‘save’ him, endearingly ludicrous. It would be nothing but a scratch to him. But you are weaker, perhaps the doctor wasn’t as good as he liked to boast about. At least he fixed you up right away when he took you to him.

You didn’t reply to his question, feeling a little silly under his gaze as your heroic act was reduced to being stupid. You weren’t even trying to be a ‘hero’, you just didn’t want him to get hurt. That was your job essentially, right?

Yet, it was what got you his praise. Patting you on the head gently as if you were a pet that has performed its trick correctly. With the position you were in, you might even be one.

Despite his touch being gentle, his face was twisted into a mocking amusement. You lean into his touch instinctively, nuzzling into his knees, too, your intentions pure. Enjoying the moment between the two of you, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. His hands in your hair felt ethereal.

“Are you a God?” You ask, quietly, innocence oozing from your question. A dreamy look on your face, it couldn’t be more crystal clear you held him high in your mind. You could at least try to act nonchalant. Still, he couldn’t expect much from you.

He chuckles at your question, not taking you seriously, “what makes you say that?”

“By the definition of divine, I think you are one,” you mumble, pausing for a moment to think about your words before continuing, “heavenly, graceful, powerful. You radiate so brightly, like the delicate moon in the sky. Even in the darkest of nights, your magnificence could show the way to the lost. If not a God, then an angel?”

Where did you get all this knowledge from? He was perplexed by your words. Did the doctor meddle with your mind? No, what would that achieve? He shook off those thoughts.

“You think I am delicate?” He asks mirthfully, “the only delicate thing in this room is you.”

He sighs as if it was a chore for him to speak to you, yet he smirks, “But yes, to answer your question, I could be a God.”

You gasp in awe, taking his words entirely serious, eyes sparkling in admiration. But it’s not like he was messing with you. He had great plans for his Godhood, he will achieve those.

His hands travel to the rest of your body, dragging his fingers from your head, to shoulders, to your arms. He tugs your arm up to him. Beneath his slender fingers your skin fluttered, he traced the lines of your puppet joints, slowly and carefully scrutinizing, immersed in how it feels to touch them. His joints disappeared a long time ago. The corner of his lips slightly raises.

You were the embodiment of how he used to be.

And if one with a seething self-hatred had themselves served on a silver platter, what would they do?

Forgive him for indulging himself, but he shall have you in the most unadulterated way. Swallow you whole before anyone else could. Softly, undeserving of the harsh reality.

“My Lord-” your voice was shaky, clearly you were a little sensitive to touch.

“You can call me Kunikuzushi, dear.”

Please, please, dear God, let our bond be pure and thrive into eternity.

[carlottawllms]

Author’s note: After my mini-series "Memory Loss", this is my first real and detailed series and I really hope you like it as much as I do! Huge thank you to @mountttmase for being my biggest supporter and motivating me to keep going when I was too disheartened. Without you, this series would never have been published. Thank you!

Also for this series pls keep the following in mind: Mason is his current age, but contrary to reality, he’s been playing for United for years.

As always, feedback is very much appreciated. And now, enjoy! 🩷

-

When you’d gotten ready for work and made your way to Carrington, you’d hoped for a calm start into the new week. But you probably should’ve known that the chances of that happening were practically non-existent. There were no calm days at Manchester United; there was never a day without bad news coming your way and as one of the club’s PR managers, you could count the number of calm days in a year on one hand and then again, they usually only ever happened during your summer holidays.

But that today’s news would cause more than the typical chaos and would instead throw your whole life into disarray certainly hadn’t been on your bingo card for the week…

You’d just got out of the car and were on your way to the main entrance when you were met with the last person you’d expected to see here: Mae.

A former good friend of yours and Mason's ex. He and you had been best friends pretty much since he started at United and you’d introduced them to each other - not quite intentionally, but it had happened.

Mason and Mae had hit it off pretty well right away. So well, in fact, that they'd been together for about three years until he’d called it quits about a year ago. Albeit unplanned, they also had an adorable 2-year-old daughter together, the one you recognised in the background, holding on tightly to your best friend’s hand.

What was going on?

“Morning.”, you smiled. “You’re alright?”

“Yeah, perfect actually.”, she nodded, a disturbing bright smile on her face. “Mase might need your help from now on though. Have a good one, y/n.”

“What- Mae, I-“ You didn’t even have the time to question anything as she simply brushed past you and jogged to her car, not sparing anyone another glance.

“Well, that was weird.”, you mumbled under your breath, making your way over to the entrance where Mase, Ellie and Luke were still rooted to the spot.

Mae and your best friend shared custody of Ellie. As Mason was often travelling due to training camps and away games, he didn't have set days when he saw Ellie, but always gave Mae his days off a few weeks in advance so she could adjust. And it had actually worked pretty well so far...

Until your strange conversation with her just now, you’d thought that maybe she had an emergency or had to work spontaneously but judging by her good mood and Mason's completely horrified expression, neither was the case.

“I didn’t think I’d get to see you this early. Good morning munchkin.” You squatted down to Ellie’s height with a bright smile on your face. Whatever was happening, she didn’t need to know just how worried you were and when you opened your arms, she fell straight into them.

“Look, auntie y/n.”, she said excitedly, nearly smashing the fluffy elephant she was holding into your face.

“If that isn’t the cutest little elephant I’ve ever seen. Does it have a name?”

Ellie nodded rapidly at that. “Noodle.” Her wide grin told you everything about proud she was of that name and although it was a rather odd one and made you want to laugh, you simply poked her little button nose.

“What a special name you’ve chosen there, princess. Well done.” With a kiss to her head, you stood back up, searching for Mason’s eyes immediately, but he still looked as shocked as before.

“What’s going on Mase?”, you asked, voice low to prevent the little one from listening in. “Why’s she here and why was Mae so weird?”

When Mason didn’t answer, Luke thankfully stepped in. “I haven’t caught everything, but she basically came here, dropped Ellie and the bag off and then told Mase in brief that she’d signed over full custody to him because she no longer wants to restrict herself. She talked something about leaving England and going to Dubai, but she didn't finish, so I’m not entirely sure. Mase tried to talk to her, but she just said there was nothing to discuss and that he could take responsibility now after the two years she’s had her. Said he’d made enough money in his career to be able to retire early and take care of his kid. Well and then she was gone. I tried running after her but…”

Your heart had dropped further into your stomach the more he’d said and once he was done, you were ready to throw up. It wasn't so much the fact that she left Mason alone with everything that was hurting you, but that she had the heart to leave her sweet little daughter behind like that; to break her heart and abandon her as if she didn’t mean anything.

Ellie was only your goddaughter, but you’d do literally everything for her. What kind of mother was cruel enough to leave her own child behind?

“Oh my god.”, you whispered, your gaze dropping down to that innocent little girl who probably had no idea what had just happened. The thought that in the years to come, when she’d have a better understanding of everything, she might come to the conclusion that it was her fault that her mother left her; that she wasn't enough, broke your heart. “Mase, I’m so sorry.”

You wrapped him into a hug, holding him as tightly as possible and when he eventually wrapped his free arm around you and hid his face in the crook of your neck, your heart broke all over again. He probably hadn’t really registered the extent of it all yet, but you could already tell how fragile and scared he was. His heart was beating way too quickly in his chest, his breathing irregular and once he’d calmed down and pulled away, the mist of tears and panic were easily recognisable in his big brown eyes.

“It’ll be okay.”, you whispered. “I’m here, I’ve got you both.”

After kissing his temple, you turned to Luke. “Take care of him at training, okay? Make sure he’s alright and not spiralling. I’ll take care of the rest.”

You kneeled back down in front of Ellie. The little girl had clutched her plush toy to her chest, hand still having a tight grip on her father’s fingers. “How about you and Noodle spend the day with auntie y/n, hm?”, you asked, tickling her sides a little. “I’ll show you my office and then we’ll go and gave a girl’s day. How does that sound, hm?”

The smile, that resembled her father’s so much, appeared on her lips. “Wif ice cweam?”

“Well, of course.”, you laughed. “It’s not a girl’s day without ice cream, munchkin.” You hoisted her up in your arms and as she was comfortable enough around you, she immediately sank into your body, arms wrapping around your neck, with the elephant still in her small hands.

“You finish at three?”

“Yeah, but I can-“

“No, no you can’t.”, you interrupted him, knowing that he wanted to propose calling it a day earlier. “You have an important game on Saturday, and I know what happened is major, but Mase, this little one here wouldn’t want you skipping training sessions or games, alright? Ellie and I will have a perfect day, you’ll get your pretty little bum out on the pitch and I’ll be back at 3.”

Your comment about his bum had actually brought up a tiny smile on his face and eventually he sighed and nodded. “Fine, but you can call me if som-“

“You do realise I’ve done this a lot, don’t you?”, you laughed. “Luke, just take him inside please. See you at three, Mase. Say bye to daddy, Ellie.”

“Bye daddy.” The little girl reached out and wrapped her arms around Mason’s neck in a mini hug and when he squeezed her tightly and made her giggle, your heart leaped in your chest.

In the beginning, right after he’d told you they were expecting, you’d had your problems with imagining Mason as a dad. Not because you’d questioned his abilities or whether he was meant to be a dad because the way he was with his niece just showcased how perfect of a dad he’d be, but back then he’d still been so young and a kid himself sometimes and you’d worried that they both had underestimated the responsibilities a child brought.

But against your worries, he’d been the perfect dad from the very first second on and whenever you saw him with Ellie, you couldn’t help but swoon over him and his interactions with his daughter.

After speaking to your boss and explaining the situation without giving too much detail as it wasn’t on you to decide how much Mason wanted to share about this topic, you took the day off and quickly drove towards one of your favourite breakfast spots as Ellie had negated having had breakfast already.

The little girl insisted on sitting in your lap whilst eating her yogurt and as she usually was quite the independent young lady and very much into doing things herself, it made you wonder if she’d understood more of what had happened than you’d thought.

Throughout the whole day, she seemed a little clingy; always either holding onto your hand tightly or wanting to be carried and everything about it pulled at every single one of your heartstrings. She was only a 2-year-old little girl; she should be carefree, laughing and enjoying life because it was still easy, but instead she was holding onto what she had left.

“Oh!”, Ellie suddenly exclaimed, pulling you from your deep thoughts. “Bwaseles.”

For a second you were confused what she was talking about, but when she eventually pointed at the little shop not too far from you, you realised the was talking about the woven bracelets they had.

“Do you want one?”, you asked, walking over to the shop with her on your hip. “Which colour do you like?”

Ellie took a moment to look at all the colours before she made grabby hands at the pink one. “This one, yeah? Should auntie y/n get one too?”

“Pink!”, she nodded and as smiled at you like that, you couldn’t help but stare at her little face for a moment. She was a carbon copy of Mason, had always been and would always be. There was not a trace of Mae and whilst at first, you’d felt a bit sorry for her as she’d carried her for 9 months only for her to look exactly like Mason, now you were glad she did.

She had the same features, big chocolate brown eyes, dimples when she smiled, and her tiny cheeks were littered with freckles. Her hair the same colour as his and she also scrunched up her nose adorably when she didn’t like something.

She was a mini-Mason; visually as well as in character.

“Oh, so we’re matching? I love that.”, you grinned excitedly before kissing her chubby cheek, making her giggle. “We could get daddy one too, you know? You can give it to him when we pick him up.”

After paying for three pink bracelets – the shop owner was kind enough to tie them around Ellie’s and your wrists – you made your way back to Carrington. It was shortly before three when you parked the car and lifted Ellie out of the child’s car seat you’d got fitted for her just recently.

She clung to your neck as you tried to set her down, so you kept her up and walked over to the main entrance with the little girl on your hip.

Mason was in deep conversation with Erik as you entered the building, probably filling him in on what had happened this morning as the expression on the manager’s face seemed concerned, but it wasn’t long until he spotted you and his player’s daughter. He waved you over with a smile and once you reached them, Erik gently tickled Ellie’s side.

“Hello you.” His smile turned into a laugh rather quickly as Ellie reached for his head, evidently surprised that there was no hair. The confused look on her face was way too adorable for her own good.

“Hi baby. Did you have a nice day with auntie y/n?”, Mason kissed her cheek as he took her from you and the little girl was quick in nodding. “Bwaseles.”

Your best friend furrowed his brows. “Brasles?”, he repeated and to you it sounded pretty much the same, but Ellie frowned and shook her head no.

“Bwaseles!”, she said again, this time a bit more determined, but as you could still see the confusion in Mason’s face, you decided to put him out of his misery.

“We’ve got matching bracelets.”, you explained, holding out your hand for him to see and Ellie, wanting to do the same, nearly smacked her dad in the eye. “And we got one for you too.”

“Yes daddy!” Ellie fidgeted in Mason’s hold as you pulled the bracelet out of your pocket. You could see in his eyes that he’d been hoping for a different colour, but as it came from his daughter he wouldn’t dare to complain.

Shifting Ellie a little so he could hold her with only one arm, he held the free one out and watched your slim fingers tightening it around his wrist and when Ellie beamed at him, he couldn’t help but smile brightly himself.

That little human in his arms was the most important person in his life, closely followed by the rest of his family – which included you.

Once Mason had grabbed his things, you walked to the carpark together. “I have a couple of things I need to do, but I’ll come over after, okay?”

“y/n, you don’t have to. I don’t want to be a burden an-“

“You could never be a burden, Mase.”, you smiled. “Either of you. It’s okay if you don’t want me to, then I’ll just go home, but I assume you’ve got some things you want to talk about, hm?”

Mason searched your eyes for a moment, unsure if he wanted to take up on your offer. What had happened to him meant a lot of baggage and he didn’t want you to suffer from it too, but he knew he couldn’t do this alone.

“Yeah, I think that would be nice.”, he sighed. “We can order something for dinner then.”

You said your goodbyes not too long after that and whilst Mason went home with Ellie, you got started on your little plan.

Obviously, Mason had the most important things at home. The nursery was equipped with everything a 2-year-old would need, but you knew that everything else, such as food, snacks and drinks, he hadn’t stocked up enough for even the week as normally she didn’t stay over on such short notice and especially not for such a long time.

And as you didn’t want him to have to go through the faff of getting all the stuff after exhausting training sessions, you’d decided to use the rest of your day off for helping him out. You’d spent enough time with him and Ellie to know what she liked so it was an easy thing to get done.

After a quick stop at your flat for a shower and a change of clothes, you arrived at Mason’s at around 5.

“Come on in.”, he smiled once he’d opened the door. “What’s all that you’ve got there?”

“Well, everything about today was very short notice and I assumed you weren’t properly prepared, so I went to the stores and got you the most important things.”, you explained, your cheeks blushing as you only now noticed how slightly invasive that sounded. Maybe he’d wanted to do it himself? You quickly brought the two bags inside so he could close the front door. “You should get through the week without having to get new stuff. I just thought it would make things easier for you, you know?”

Mason simply stared at you, lips slightly parted and eyes wide. He was overwhelmed, positively so, and when the tears welled up in his eyes, he pulled you into his chest. Arms wrapping tightly around your waist as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck, trying to will the tears to stay inside, but it was to no avail.

“Oh Mase.”, you sighed, your heart feeling heavy in your chest. “I’m so sorry. I’m here whatever you need.”

You kissed the side of his head whilst holding him as tightly as he was holding you. It was obvious how much he’d needed this hug and when you felt his hot tears on your skin, you started running your hand up and down his spine, whilst the other gently scratched the back of his head.  

It was the sound of Ellie’s voice that had you pulling away eventually. You gently wiped the tears off his reddened cheeks, thumbs brushing right beneath his eyes.

“Daddy?”

“Coming, princess.”, he called, gratefully taking the new colouring-in book you held out for him. “I’ll get her to play in her room for a bit. Be right back.”

Whilst he was sorting his daughter, you put the groceries and kid’s supplies you’d bought away and put the kettle on and before you knew it, Mason was back downstairs.

“C’mon, sit down.”, you nodded towards the kitchen table and once you sat opposite him, you locked your eyes on his. “How do you feel, Mase?”

“Lost.”, he admitted quietly. “I don’t know…before today everything seemed to be okay. She’s never said anything before and especially not that she doesn’t want Ellie around anymore. Whenever she came to pick her up she seemed happy to have her back and then today, she bulldozed in, dropped the bag to the ground, handed me Ellie who looked frightened as fuck and just told me that she doesn’t want her anymore. She had the decency to talk quietly so Ellie didn’t have to hear everything, but y/n, the way she talked it sounded as if our daughter was some sort of toy you could just give away once you were done playing with it. She literally said she’s had her for long enough and that now it’s my turn to take care of her. I just…this is all just so fucked up.”

When his eyes filled with tears again you weren’t sure if it was tears of sadness or pure frustration. Maybe it was both, but either way, it hurt you to see him like this. Carefully observing his reaction, you reached for his hand and squeezed it in sympathy and when Mason didn’t pull away, but instead wrapped his fingers around yours, you sent him a soft smile.

“I’m so sorry, Mase. I don’t understand her either and I know it’s difficult right now, but what’s your plan?”

“I don’t have one, y/n.”, he sighed helplessly. “I don’t know what to do. I’m away a lot, you know that. I have training til three, games and away games. Erik said I can take off a week to figure everything out and he’d still play me that weekend, but obviously when I stay away for longer, he’d have to bench me. I feel like I’ve been put in a position where no matter which decision I make, it’s the wrong one. But then again, I don’t really have a choice. Until I’ve found a nanny or something, I’ll have to stay home, I just…I don’t have a plan.”

You hated seeing him so down and distraught. He was this happy person who’d climbed every mountain, no matter how high, with a smile on his face so far but right now he looked as if he’d reached one that was too high to conquer.

“I do though, Mase. I have a plan, but I don’t want to overstep, okay?”, you started, squeezing his hand and when he nodded, you continued.

It was an idea that had spontaneously popped into your head in the car earlier. It was completely crazy and when you’d briefly called your best friend Kay during your mini-stop at home and asked her for her opinion, she’d openly doubted your sanity for a second.

But you didn’t care.

“What Ellie needs now is stability and a structured day. I still have about three weeks of annual leave, and I could take at least two weeks any time now, meaning you’d get one week with her so she can start to feel comfortable and at home and when you get back, I’ll be here. I would talk to Elizabeth if it’s possible for me to work part-time and from home and since it’s only for about a year until Ellie can join nursery school, it wouldn’t be forever. This way you wouldn’t have to go through the faff of finding a nanny you trust and put Ellie through getting to know a new person.”

Mason was quiet for a moment before he shook his head. “No, I can’t ask that of you, y/n.”

“You’re not asking, Mase. I’m offering.”, you smiled, giving his hand another gentle squeeze. You knew it sounded absolutely crazy, but you meant it.

“But…she’s not your daughter, you shouldn’t have to…and I just…I can ask my mum and-“

“Mase, hey, I just want her to be okay. If you rather your mum do it, then I’m okay with that, told you, you can totally say no. I was just thinking that she’d have to permanently move here and her life is down in Portsmouth. No matter the decision, Mase, you know they’ll come up here often anyway.”

You could see the cogs turning in his head, trying to figure out what was best, and you gave him the time he needed. It was a big decision and one that he had to feel comfortable with.

“We could make a trial run, if you like.”, you added softly. “You know, see what it’s like those two weeks with me and if you want your mum to take over, you can still get her up here.” 

“You would do that?”, he asked quietly, not believing you’d give up a huge chunk of your life for a child that wasn’t yours. “You would actually do that? Take two weeks and then work from home? Part-time? y/n, that’s a huge thing and I don’t want you to abandon your own life for a girl that’s not even yours.”

“I love her, Mase. She’s not my actual daughter, I know that, but I’m her godmother and I love her and want her to be okay. I would do everything for her and for you, too, so unless you don’t want me to, I would love to step up and do this for you both.”

[writing-in-the-impala]

Secret Smokes (Part 15)

Pairing: Teacher! Remus Lupin x Reader

Series Summary: When the reader bumps into the new DADA professor on the bridge in Hogwarts she begins to build a friendship with him all thanks to their shared feeling of not belonging and love for muggle cigarettes. Their friendship blooms while they both fight internal battles deciding what is wrong and what is right leading to a lot of fluff, angst, flirting and a rollercoaster of emotions.

Warnings: Swearing, smoking, drinking, teacher-student relationship, angst, jealousy, fluff, smut.

Word Count: 2311

A/N: wow it's been a while I have no excuses I just have a soul-draining full-time job and no free time. Enjoy! I missed you all <3

 | SERIES MASTER LIST (All chapters) |

Previous Chapter, Part 15, Next Chapter

You spent the whole Sunday sulking as you walked around Hogsmeade trying to lift your own spirits. You couldn't take it anymore. On one hand you thought about how maybe you just need to go one a date with someone else to break this fixation you had on Remus on the other hand you felt like you may have a lot more than just a crush on him and that no one will be able to replace him. You simultaneously wanted to bump into him and to not see him for a few days. But something pushed you to try and force him into bumping into you. So you pulled out the marauders map and saw he was in his classroom. You went to the corridor adjacent and sat with a book waiting for him to walk out, yet the next time you checked the map he was in the library so you headed straight there. Once you arrived to the library he was nowhere to be found, you checked the map and saw he was walking towards the courtyard you followed him but couldn't catch up with him until you saw him disappear from the map. You knew he left Hogwarts, and you knew he was avoiding you as he probably saw where you were using his own map. It was hopeless. He was impossible.

Your next interaction with him was Monday morning in class, one of the only places he couldn't avoid you, especially that you knew he couldn't skip classes as he had to do so at the end of each month anyway. When you walked in Remus's eyes flicked to yours and then straight to the floor to avoid yours. He kept his composure well during class but spent the whole hour tapping his finger on his wand and falling over his words. He barely answered questions and took deep breaths. After the lesson finished he let out a sign simply saying "that's all, thank you very much. Remember keep studying I know you'll all do great." In this moment he gave you a short glance breathing in, closing his eyes slowly and turning to walk up to his office. As everyone funnelled out you followed him. "Professor, I have a question about one of the exams." You said nearly running up to catch him as he was already half way up the stairs.

"Miss L/N, I can't go into too much details about exams you know this. I'm sorry, I'm afraid I won't be of much use to you."

"But professor I just want to understand more." You pushed hugging your books for comfort and looking around as some students were still in the class, he shifted his body weights to his other leg.

"I'll be honest I've never ran a class through exams, you know I'm new to all this. It would be better for you to speak to a different professor on this subject." He pained and you knew you were both speaking in double meanings at this point.

"But you're the one I want to speak to as you are the one who teaches defence against the dark arts."

"Was I not clear that I'm not the right match for you on this topic when we last spoke about exams, I suggest Professor McGonagall could help." He said looking past you at the last few girls in the room both you aching for them to leave you you could speak normally as he knew you wouldn't leave and there wasn't much you could say like this.

"Yes I do understand that Professor however what she explained wasn't that clear either, it left me with a lot of questions specific to defence against the dark arts." At this moment the last two girls left saying "bye Professor Lupin." He said goodbye to them before turning back to you and saying "Follow me, let me see if I can help." You followed behind him, he held the door open for you and let you in his office first before shutting the door behind you, you didn't make yourself comfortable in the room but rather stood by the door. "You shouldn't speak to me like that while there's other students around." He said in a low tone.

"I needed to get your attention somehow."

"You know you've always got my attention." He words were almost a low growl.

"But you avoided me all Sunday."

"It's what's best for you." He took a step closer closing the space between you forcing you to look up if you want to look into his eyes.

"How do you know what's best for me?"

"Trust me I do." He leaned down his lips were an inch away from yours.

"Really?" You asked and his lips met yours as he moaned a "mhm" in confirmation. He pulled away to say "you know you really shouldn't act like that in my classroom while there's other students still leaving, begging me to talk to you, to give you attention." His words were making hot flashes go through your body as you said nothing just looked up at him. "Do you understand?" He asked and you nodded.

"Good girl." He said the words catching you off guard. He walked away from you to go and lean against his desk as you stood in the same place confused.

"I thought you were avoiding me?" You asked not understanding his sudden change in behaviour.

"I am." He said signalling for you to come closer with his hand and you followed his command. He stood up straight in front of the desk as you looked up at him he picked you up and put you down on the desk so you were now sitting on it.

"How is this avoiding me professor?" You ask him as he looked down at you, he got on his knees in front of you, his head at desk level as his hands moved up and down your thigh.

"Well right now we don't have to discuss all the stuff I'm avoiding." He said moving his head between your thighs and teasing you through your clothing.

"How are you so sure?" You asked as you resisted all the feelings he was sending through you.

"Because dear you can't even think straight and I haven't bent you over my desk yet." He said standing back up leaving you aching for him.

"Please don't stop." You said looking into his eyes that seemed a lot darker in this moment. He began to kiss you as he undressed you and you unbuttoned his shirt. He grabbed you by your hair to turn you around and bent you over his desk. You felt his body against you before he leaned down to whisper in your ear he took a deep breath and then he let you go and walked away sitting on the sofa opposite the desk while saying "I can't do this."

You turned around in confusion to see him buttoning back up his shirt, you quickly fixed yourself before questioning him. "What do you mean you can't do this? You started it!" You attempt to protest.

"and I'm ending it."

"So what happened to wanting to bend me over your desk?"

"I can't, I care about you too much. I don't want to throw you around this room like an object of desire. Don't get me wrong I do desire you, and you do something to me when you out me on the spot in public like that but I can't treat you like this."

"What if I want you to treat me like that?" You asked afraid of moving anywhere closer to him in the room.

"Then you don't understand your own worth." He simply stated.

"So now you won't speak to me or even sleep with me anymore?"

"You know I think it was William Blake who said sooner murder an infant in its cradle than nurse unacted desires."

"Well if you studied Blake like I did you would know Blake is telling you to act on your unacted desires, unless you're telling me you would rather kill a infant in its cradle than kiss me again."

"You've got it wrong dear. I may have been homeschooled by my parents but don't underestimate how many hours I spent reading. The enacted desires are the things you should murder. If you nurse them, they must be in a cradle. They are the baby in a cradle so strangle your unacted desire, don't act on them."

You felt almost embarrassed at you pointing out school, you didn't know he was homeschooled but it made sense with his condition and the fact they moved constantly, it added up and now not only were you angry at Remus for his recent actions but you felt guilty for your own words. You didn't reply, the silence was thick before Remus breathed heavily and continued to speak.

"Therefore it's time for me to strangle mine, if you remember the day we went to the British Museum I asked you to promise that if you developed any strong feelings for me to tell me so we could cut it off before either of us gets hurt." He said and you nodded slowly to show you're following along. "Well I may have not been too truthful and I feel neither have you, and it has resulted in us both becoming victims of our own misfortune."

"Are you saying you have strong feelings for me Remus Lupin?" You asked feeling both nervous and excited.

"Not exactly, what I'm saying is there was a line that I tried to set and I believe somewhere that line became blurry. So after you left on my birthday I decided to establish that hard line again. I decided we will stop sleeping in my bed, we will stop all the cuddling nonsense and all the softness. However I simply can't do that Y/N, I can't be as stern and strict as I want to be with you."

"That's okay, I want to cuddle with you."

"I'm aware however I told you that day, I would like to take you on dates, I would like to walk around and hold your hand, I would like to bring you to see my friends especially during my birthday but we can't do that, I told you it will hurt to not be able to live in public, I didn't want to risk the pain for you. You deserve so much more than this." He looked weak.

"Can you not tell you're what I want no matter how many times you deny me?" You were almost in tears.

"I simply don't believe you understand what you're signing up for with me, and it's emphasised by you asking me to take you on dates, to go see Sirius, to go to my cottage. I always told you those weren't options with me especially while you study here but you didn't listen." He was angry but also frustrated like he was mainly fighting with himself.

"What if I didn't study here?"

"What? Y/N don't try and ruin your education?"

"No, as in when I finish. What happens then?"

"Then we're free, but then you have the burden of being associated with me.  I fear that the stigma attached to me will affect you before you even have a chance to become the amazing witch you can be."

"I don't care." You simply shrugged. "But would you take me on dates?" You asked and he thought for a second.

"Of course if you're not my student there no reason not to." He replied thoughtfully.

"Would I be able to visit Sirius with you?"

"It would be encouraged." He replied instantly.

"Okay, then we'll continue this whole conversation when I finish."

"So what happens now?"

"You tell me, you're the one who knows what's best for me." You said and he laughed for the first time since you entered this room. "Touché."

"I think we hold off for a little bit, you're right you know, I'm not being truthful about how attached I am to you. And I haven't been really seeing my friends this year because all I can think about is you." He gave you a sad but understanding nod. "So I think I should come here less, but I don't want to stop coming. Maybe we become a bit more casual, see each other every so often, I'd still like to be able to come for tea, listen to music and sometimes kiss you if that's okay."

"It's always okay." He said with a soft pained smile.

"Okay, so we do that, and when I finish school you can ask me out and show me what dating Remus Lupin is like, deal?"you put your hand out for him to shake.

"Deal." He said reaching out to shake your hand. "Would you like to stay exclusive still?"

"You don't?" You were caught off guard.

"No I do, but I'm not in my last year of school, I'm asking you?"

"I don't think I would be comfortable finding out you're kissing someone else, so could we please stay exclusive even if we don't see each other as often?" You asked nervously.

"Of course dear, now what would you like to do stay here with me today or go back to your friends I won't be offended if you leave right now."

"I'd like to stay." You said and he reached out his hand to pull you to sit beside him.

"I'm very proud of you for putting your foot down like this, don't get me wrong it hurts to know I'll see you less but I think you've acted more mature than me in all this."

"If we had it your way we would still be smoking and flirting on the bridge." You pointed out as Remus put and arm alright you and got comfortable making him laugh. You felt safe, and like you made the right decision. You hoped.

NEXT CHAPTER | More stuff I wrote

A/N: sorry for the angst I had to do it.

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[stripedstarsblueflags]

i didn't win the wheel: episode 1

(if anyone knows how to make gifs 🥺 please help me out until then it's shitty screenshot summer)

Alex: "I'm gonna say... 400,000."

Logan: "I'm gonna say 430,000”

ok cool let's introduce the WHOLE DYNAMIC of this episode in one still, shall we? alex is looking directly into the camera pondering the shit out of this question, and *this is logan's face*. look at that. look at that fucking smirk. alex is like "you know what? i'm going to get this question right" and logan is like "you know what? i'm gonna use the oldest trick in the pick-a-number-1-through-10 book and i'm gonna WATCH you get annoyed with me and i'm gonna love every second of it." he knows what he's doing

Alex: "Oh, you're playing that game, are you? Just gonna go a bit above?"

Logan: *smoothest fucking wink i've ever seen* *the fucking TONGUE CLICK*

ok WHAT. how am i supposed to handle this i– let's start with the fact that even before logan gave his answer he's leaning back, head cocked, gazing at alex ✨like that✨ practically about to do the arm-around-the-shoulder-thing **before** because he knows exactly how alex is going to react. that fucking wink he had that planned from the beginning. even before alex phrased it like "oh, you're playing that game, are you?" which WOAH BRAT TAMER ALEX DID NOT SEE THAT COMING and jesus christ i feel like i'm intruding on something. this doesn't even feel like ao3 this feels like the beginning of a shit 2k word wattpad draft but no this actually happened

Alex (after guessing exactly 1 less than Logan's and getting it right): "Yes!"

Logan (sunshine smile): "You're a donut..."

okay so apparently alex’s reaction to being called a donut 🍩 is that smile and leaning into logan for the first time in the video and giggling and idk fucking blushing like what kind of degradation kink is this... like i'm sorry i love you landoscar but "you freaking muppet! you got all the hangers!" will need to step aside for whatever is going on here

need i remind you this is ALEX'S reaction to kph. logan brought the k in there first guys leave your what the fuck is a kilometer bit behind ok!!! (i'll find this eventually but logan answering that question on "wrong answers only" with "i'm gonna answer this correctly. it's 1.6 to a mile" is the hottest thing i've ever seen)

aaaaaand here we go end of the video. DO I NEED TO DO A SIDE BY SIDE COMPARISON OR WHAT actually–

alright that's the best you're gonna get with preview. but LET'S BREAK IT DOWN. so we go from logan doing literally all of the talking, all of the video introduction and explaining the activity, and alex even with his whole "oooh ray of sunshine" image clearly thinks this is stupid, he even makes little sarcastic hand gestures when logan describes it. and even right in the beginning he's not looking at the camera he looks like an adhd kid sat next to the window (come on alex look alive). but THREE MINUTES of an admittedly stupid game he's done a total 180, smiling and laughing and literally that wasn't that funny but now i'm gonna laugh because you're the one who said it and leaning in to read the cards for the first time and- well logan is mostly unchanged. from the first question he decided his main task for this video was literally just to check out his teammate at point blank range with his emotions very very clear on his face (alex is OBLIVIOUS af but then again he did pull out the "oh you're playing that game are you?" and i was NOT ready for that so who knows)

ok so episode 1 is very much a warmup for the rest of the series i know that. obviously this isn't the "reaching stratospheric levels of homoeroticism that actually leave a wake of collateral damage to all compulsory heterosexuality in a 50 m radius" as charlos but holy shit it's a lot more obvious than i thought!!!

episode 2

[staytinyville]

Stay Alive (1)

BTS ot7 x Reader

Magical Creatures AU

Series Masterlist

Warnings: None

A/N I am very excited for this story! It has a good amount of world building that I enjoy doing so much! I took inspiration from Stay Alive by Jungkook/Suga in case you guys didn’t know! The beginnings are of course slow but that’s how most stories are to build up the tension. I hopeful for this story and I hope you all like it! Please feel free to ask if you want to be added to the taglist!

People walk among the same earth constantly. However the thing that sets us apart is the path we all take. Sometimes it's the same, other times it's the opposite. Some of us are meant for higher things while some are meant to suffer until things start to look up for us all. 

In a lifetime sometimes we won’t ever get the chance to see ourselves reach the peak we want. There are struggles we all face that will cause setbacks in the path we are taking. Only the ones who are strong enough to see the road to the end make it out alive. 

There will always be those out there who will achieve their goals in life some way or another. Those are the ones who don’t allow those setbacks to dictate their entire life. And maybe along the way someone will come along to help you grow stronger. Whether it’s one person or a whole group. You will see to the end of your path one way or another. 

“Most often than not you will be working on filing. If we are understaffed on a day, like today, we might send you in to write reports on the medicine we have already administered.” Suho, the lady who was placed as your preceptor, explained to you.

You had a grateful smile on your face, happy to finally get to start working. While it wasn’t the place you had been hoping for, you knew the pay was well for the kind of student debts you had. The pharmaceutical lab was meant to administer different kinds of medicines to the people who would sign up for a trial. They did the test on patients before they were given out to people. 

While you were being placed on the front desk for the most part, you knew you would need to work your way up to the spot you wanted and you were more than happy to reach for it. 

“What kind of medicine do you guys make?” You asked, trying to think about all that you had read on the company's website. 

It didn’t really give much about what they focus on so you found it really odd that they were so wide when it came to the things they were trying to cure. 

“You applied here and don't even know?” Suho frowned, looking at you appalled.

“I tried asking at the interview but they just gave me vague answers.” You explained. “The website doesn't tell you anything either.”

“We are very on top of the things we do here at HYBE.” She began to tell you. “There aren’t many people we trust to be hired onto the team so consider yourself lucky to be apart of it.”

“We make sure that our patients here are taken care of because we are a company that is trying hard to reach their goals. Because of that we are detail oriented when it comes to the patients we accept. Not just anyone can be a patient here.” 

While she did a bit more about the kind of company you were working at, it still didn’t really tell you about what it was you were working for. You didn’t choose to question it, knowing that the paycheck they gave you was a luxury for a lot of people. 

“Here are some of your patients for the day. They have already been given the medicine, it's up to you to check up on them for daily research.” You took the six files the lady handed you, nodding your head. 

You placed them onto the small desk area they had given you before going through them to check on the appointment times and ordering them correctly. The first one on your list should be waiting in the lobby by now so you were quick to take the papers and move along to the waiting room.

“Mrs. Han?” You called, a smile on your face. 

An older woman with a younger one came to a stand, slowly shuffling over to where you waited for them at the door. 

“Hello, Mrs. Han. How are you today?” You asked politely, leading the two women towards the scale. 

“I'm doing great! I'm so excited to share some news about the medicine you gave me.” The older woman exclaimed, a bright smile on her face. 

You hummed, keeping the friendly look as you wrote down her weight on the paper. You told them to follow you to a patient room to speak to her privately. 

“I see it was something for your dementia.” You spoke, moving the laptop in the room closer so you could take down everything the lady would tell you. “Is everything going okay?”

“It's wonderful!” The other lady exclaimed for her mother. At least you assumed it was her daughter from the notes that people already had written for you. Her daughter was the one who was in charge of all Mrs. Han’s things.

“You would not believe it but it's almost as though she's regressed in her illness! Mother was in a terrible state when she was offered this trial medicine. She took it and suddenly it was almost like she went back to before it grew to be terrible.”

You tried to write down what the woman was saying, but you knew there were more questions to ask before concluding the entire meeting. 

“Maybe she can get back to normal if she takes more.” The daughter spoke in a hopeful tone. 

“One step at a time, Mrs. Byun.” You kept the smile on your face so as to not let them think they weren’t going to find the help they needed. “We have to see how long this medicine will last first before giving her more doses.” You explained.

“Also, memory loss is nothing to be overly worried about if it's on occasion. Even I forget something's as well.” You told them. 

If there was one thing you studied, it was medicine. You knew the consequences of taking too much or too little. This company was in the slow movement of developing them so they had to be careful about how they administered their projects. People probably came in thinking they could get more if they worked perfectly the first time. However these kinds of things were tests, not the real deal.

“Of course.” Mrs. Byun nodded in understanding. 

The rest of the visit went by smoothly as you took down all the older woman’s rants and aches about the whole thing. With these kinds of surveys it was really about asking how each patient felt even if it was the smallest of things. You wouldn’t be able to tell if it had to do with the medicine or with something else.

As you told Mrs. Han and her daughter goodbye, scheduling the next appointment, the rest of you patient trickled in one-by-one. 

There was a man who had come in for a bad liver–he was an avid drinker–so the medicine was for corrosion to that organ. While you really tried not to say something about it, you felt annoyed that the man had explained that he still had a drink every once in a while. He was like Mrs. Han, the medicine was doing wonders. 

There was a child who had chickenpox, who’s mother explained that the rash that had taken over her son’s body was slowly dwindling down. Another lady who had come in for amnesia which only said that her memory was returning to before she had gotten into an accident. The others had external injuries like scrapes of their knees or a deep cut that needed stitches. From what you could see they were just given some sort of pain medication. They had expressed that their wounds didn’t hurt and it was actually healing at a fast rate. 

“They really work with a lot of medicine.” You spoke to yourself as you looked over the last file you had. You frowned your eyebrows when you saw the patient was in another level of the building. It was the lower levels, which meant in the basement of sorts. From what you knew that was where the labs were. 

“That's odd.” You tilted your head in confusion but made your way over to the elevators anyway. With your ID card, you pressed onto one of the underground levels, leaning back against the metal wall. When the doors opened, you were met with a lobby that had a couple of different doctors moving about. 

Following the signs, you found the door that led to some of the rooms patients were stationed in. You showed the security guard your ID explaining you were in that level of the building to check up on a patient. He took a look at the file you had in your hand, humming as he opened a door to the back for you. 

Overlooking the file once more to make sure you had the right number, you quietly counted the doors. As you passed by one, you felt a shiver go down your back causing you to halt in your tracks. The number three stared back at you as a weird feeling flowed over your shoulders. It felt like something was brushing up against them, pushing at your form. 

You quickly turned back around making your way to the room next to it. You checked over the file one more time. It didn’t really give you much about the medicine the patient had been given. All it said was that they were someone who was meant to be staying in the building for better observation. There were a couple of papers that you seemed to be missing, you noticed.

Before opening the door, you knocked politely. “Hello?” You softly called as you stuck your head in. 

The only light on was the bedside lamp which illuminated the dark room. You frowned at the aspect of there being no windows that would allow light from outside to come in. As you walked in closer, you let go of the door to have it shut by itself. “Mr. Jeon?”

“Who are you?” You gasped, nearly tripping on your feet from the hard flinch you felt take over. 

You took in the man who was standing behind you, trying to regulate your breathing. He only looked at you with a raised brow, his expression passive. You took up his large form, noticing the blue scrubs he wore were almost tight around his physic. He didn’t wear any shoes–was even foregoing to wear socks. 

“Oh,” You said as your breath returned to your lungs. “My name is (Y/N). Today is my first day so I guess I'll be your new nurse.” You explained to him.

“What are you doing here?” As he took a step closer to you, you subconsciously took one back. “You don't deserve to be here.” His voice went quiet as his eyes turned soft. 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in his worried expression, smiling awkwardly as you patted your hands to wipe the sweat forming on them. 

“I needed a job. Got school debt to pay off.” You tried to joke with him. He looked too serious, which made you anxious to touch him for his vitals. “I'm here to do a check up. Would you mind?” You asked, trying to build up the courage to get close to him. 

He didn’t say anything, just poked his cheek with his tongue, moving to the bed. You smiled in thanks, looking around the room to find the equipment needed. You purse your lips when you realize you would need to check his heart rate manually. Finding the padding needed to place around his arm, you made your way over to the man.

He flinched back as your hands moved to touch his arm, causing you to stop. “I’m going to check your heart rate.” You explained, remembering that you were the kind of person to make sure people knew what it was you were going to do. 

As he kept his dark eyes on you, he allowed you to softly touch his scrub sleeve as you moved the fabric up to place the padding in the right area of the arm. You moved your stethoscope from around your neck. “It’s going to be a bit cold.” You whispered. 

As you moved on with the check up, you watched the numbers on the dial move carefully counting to yourself. When you finished getting what you needed, you quickly let go of the air and moved the padding off his arm. As you did that, your eyes seemed to blur over the ink the man had. 

Your fingers gently squeezed his bicep, softly moving down the length of his arm. Your gaze drifted over each color and picture the man had, trying to figure out where one picture ended and the next started. As your fingers glided over his pulse on his wrists, the man involuntarily shivered at the touch. 

“Sorry.” You quickly pulled back, looking back up at him. “Your tattoos are really nice. I've never seen so many.” You bashfully smiled at him. 

He only looked at you curiously, his big eyes taking in your facial expressions. It made you feel flustered as he looked at you so deeply, causing you to lick your lips and look away. 

“You have a very strong heart. Very good blood flow.” You told him, turning away to write down his vitals. He slowly got off the bed and moved closer to you. 

“It doesn't say which medicine you've been taking which is really weird.” You frowned, looking over all the papers that you were given. There were some things missing but you assumed the high ups were looking over it. 

“You're different.” You jumped at the voice that spoke directly behind you. Turning around you tilted your head up at the man.

“How so?” You asked.

“You're nice.” The boy squinted his eyes at you, like he was trying to figure you out.

“Are the others not?” You frowned.

“Not the ones who come down here.” He told you.

You tried to quickly cover up your upset expression, looking up at the doe-eyed man with a smile. “Well I hope I'm able to come down here again.” You took up the paper you had written on. There wasn’t much explanation on what you had to ask him so you chose to go back up and see if you could figure out what else to do.

“Have a good day, Mr. Jeon.” You smiled brightly, waving from the door.

Jungkook tilted his head to the side as a warmth spread through his chest from your words. Not a day had gone by that he wasn't thinking about the dreaded place as though it was a sentence in hell. He had never met someone like you; someone who spoke to him as though he too was a person.

It made him light headed to think about the way your words affected him. He couldn't think of the last time someone had ever uttered those kinds of words to him. It had been so long-alone thinking this was what life was going to be like for the rest of his life. But suddenly things changed in the blink of an eye.

“Maybe.”

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[chronically-ghosted]

i'm swingin' blind and you're stunning me without any gloves

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

word count: 9K

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

summary: the night continues while the two of you dance around the inevitable. dieter's restraint is foiled by dreams of a water bed.

warnings/tags: depictions of drugs, age gap, cum eating, piv sex, not actually incest but close, concerns about getting old, reader is at least 18 (by how much is up to you), no use of y/n, oral (f receiving), hand jobs (m & f receiving), unprotected piv, squirting, the barest hint of overstimulation, oh and SMUT.

🤍AO3 Link

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“Do all movie stars have six empty bedrooms they don’t use?” 

“They’re not always empty . . . I mean, it’s good for parties. Gives people space to get out of the chaos if they want, or if they need a place to crash. Keeps the energy, uh, flowing. Keeps the vibes good.” 

He uses the joint to take the place of having to explain that the room you just passed was in fact used as a revolving door for anyone who wanted a bump only two weeks ago. The second floor stretches out into the darkness, the nasty weather outside beating against the windows. He keeps a slow steady pace, the high making his insides comfortably warm as you wander in and out of rooms, like a less frantic, totally-fuckable version of that Scooby Doo gag. He’s quite sure he’ll never be able to watch Saturday morning cartoons the same way.

So far, you’ve been content with asking rather inane questions, filler questions that he suspects you’re hoping reveal more than he’s giving. The response to the question being more important than the answer itself. 

So no one lives in these rooms? No.

Do you ever use these as anything else other than bedrooms? No.

What’s outside by the pool? A gym.

A gym with full length mirrors that he used to adore snapping selfies in, in his younger cop show days, and without much prompting, would admit to masterbating to on occasion. 

You’ll always be your own greatest critic so fuck ‘em.

You come out of the last bedroom, smirking faintly as though someone had told you a particularly naughty secret, humming faintly to yourself. He never much cared for giving tours but given that you walked ahead of him and gave him adequate time to ogle the backs of your thighs, he could think of worse ways to spend time with you. 

“Mhm hmm,” you mutter to no one in particular. The carpet is plush, but that is the only thing you could say you really enjoyed about the style of the house. Everything else, especially the almost clinically clean air to it, makes it feel like a hotel, as if Dieter is mold growing in someone else’s house. Again, these are filed as things that helped fill out the picture of the man your uncle had become, if not the man he wanted to portray.

“So where do you sleep?” 

He had been lulled into such a stupor of quiet fantasy fueled by his warm high that he didn’t even think twice when he pointed down the hall. 

“God, it just keeps going, doesn’t it?” 

Turns out the path to moral degradation isn’t a straight line, but a curved slope. One he finds himself on, going down round and round and round, the longer he watches your legs, the curve of your ass, the bright smile as you quite obviously tried to get a glimpse of the old Dee. But that's the thing about drugs that he finds he so actively craved – of course there is the euphoria, the chemical sensations, the wires of your brain plugged into different outlets and restarting the whole system. But he's found that’s when people tended to be their most honest, most unpolished and they weren’t afraid to be like that. 

There was a lot of talk around the ego and the ID in his early acting classes. Who was your character when their ego had been pulled back like strips of skin? 

But as he got older, the question he became more obsessed with was, who were the people around him when they weren’t being paid to like him?

You, of course, are different from all that. You hadn’t built up an ego quite yet. You hadn’t built up the mechanisms required to survive the world because you hadn’t needed to. Sure, you could deflect and get what you wanted by batting your eyelashes, but there are times he felt ugly in the skin he had built. Like somewhere along the way, he had tried on all these hats and now they had all attached themselves to his head and he couldn’t tear them off if he tried. His costume didn’t fit– his face wasn’t even visible any more. 

And who exactly had spent the last fifteen minutes trailing after his beautiful, carefree niece, a single breath away from getting so hard it hurt, in this massively empty mansion? What version of himself wants to snake a hand into those shorts and effectively ruin you for anyone else – wanted to grip you so hard there’d be bruises and tears in your eyes when you came? 

Which one of them is he willing to show you?

All of them. None of him. The ID.

You glance over your shoulder, curious that he hadn’t answered you. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, smoking between his two fingers again. “Could get lost in a place like this.”

You pause in your inspection, eyes soft because of the drugs or the low lighting or something else, and take his hand. “Lucky I’ve got you then.” 

His mouth is instantly dry in a way that has nothing to do with the weed. He offers you the joint and you smoke too, eyelids drooping, allowing him another second of looking. 

And then another smile breaks across your face.

“Fuck,” your laugh turns into a cough. “Did you ever get that stupid fucking waterbed you wouldn’t shut up about? I remember you swearing the first thing you’d buy when you were rich and famous was a waterbed – which I thought was so fucking cool because I’d never heard of a waterbed before because I was seven and it sounded like something totally made up — so of course, someone rich and famous could have one.”

You’re still holding hands, your palm dry and warm, when he laughs too. He takes the joint back from you, eyes narrowing as he looks at you out of the corner of his eyes.

Turns out moral degradation is a fucking cannon ball. 

“Why don’t you go see for yourself?” 

You squeeze his hand, eyes bright, before almost sprinting down the hall to the room on the right. He follows you, struck by the notion this is the first and last time you’ll ever enter his bedroom. This has to be the end of something.

He hears a grunt and a groan and he can’t help but smile. He saunters into the room, leaning up against the door frame with his hands in the pockets of his robe. You are face down on the mattress, hands under your chest. 

“This is not a water bed,” you grumble, the sound muffled. 

Once again, Maria deserved a raise just for making his bed. 

“No, it’s not,” he says slowly, as he edges a teasing tone into his next words. “Look, I did get a fucking water bed, alright? Just about a century ago when they were still a thing.”

You ease up onto your elbows and glare at him. “Can’t believe you got rid of it. What a waste.” 

And then you’re sliding back onto your knees, hands planted on the covers, and for just a second, he swears he can see the outline of your cunt through the material that could hardly be called shorts. 

His knees actually buckle for a second before he stands up right and physically has to close his eyes. Looking away wouldn’t have been enough. 

But you don’t see all of this. You’re frowning down, as if glaring hard enough will bypass physics and liquidate the mattress. 

“What happened to it? The water bed, I mean.” 

Just as he’s gotten his heart rate back under control, your question throws everything into a spiral again. 

Do not fucking tell her about the hookers and the brass pasties. Or the cock ring. Definitely do not mention the cock ring. 

“It, uh, popped.” 

You smirk over your shoulder. “It was a sex thing, wasn’t it?” 

The question lingers, Dieter unable to make a coherent word that didn’t sound like take your pants off right fucking now, so he swallows and shakes his head. By some minor miracle, you shrug and don’t push it, sliding off the bed and completing your assessment of his life by regarding the book collection against the opposite wall. 

It’s bigger than you expect someone like Dieter to have, but its placement in the house – almost hidden in his private bedroom – suggests that its volume is not there to impress. It’s his personal collection and, judging by the bent spines, books he’s actually read, perhaps several times. There’s a small desk next to it, crouching in the corner and littered with sheets of paper that look like they were torn from a sketchbook. 

He couldn’t decide which version of himself he wanted you to see less: Dieter, full of vices, or Dieter, bratty actor who only acted in the first place because he couldn’t cut it as a real artist. 

Your hands run over the sketches, eyes annoyingly unreadable, and just as he’s about to leap forward and scoop all of the sketches into the trash, you move on. Your interest is caught by some of the books. You make noises that are both outside of the realm of approval or disgust and he finds himself nervous. Book reading is about the last thing on anyone’s mind once they’ve reached the final destination of The Bedroom, so he’s never worried about what someone might think. But this isn’t just someone, it’s you. 

His mouth opens to make some quippy remark, when you gasp and lunge forward, grabbing something at the back of the shelf.

“Holy shit, that’s you!” 

You hold up a picture of his high school’s production of Othello and there he is fifteen and smack dab in the middle of the cast. 

“Oh fuck, I forgot that was there,” he groans, dropping the nearly gone joint into an ashtray by the side of the bed. You’re practically glowing with excitement and he rolls his eyes as he takes it from you.

“Jesus Christ, look at that kid. Has no idea what kind of dumbass he’s going to grow up to be.” 

Three years after that photo was taken, he had left in the middle of the night for Hollywood. Of course, just as he had finished packing up his piece-of-shit Chevy, Enrico caught him. Exploded in his face and scolded him in his old man ways for leaving without saying nothing. 

He kept this photo because it was the last thing that reminded him of home and yet so distant it didn’t hurt as bad any more. 

“I think he did spectacular for himself,” you grin at him. “Who knew The Dieter Bravo was such a softie for the old days?” 

He smirks at you, finally sick of you kicking his ass all night. There is a line between fucking you and out sassing you, one he could live with. You aren't fucking ready for that Dieter. 

“No way,” he rubs the bottom of his lip with his thumb, artfully contemplative, and purposefully distractingly hot. “Just keep it around for the spank bank. Ms. Lemons was a babe.”

You narrow your eyes at him as he leans across you to put the photo back.  “Oh yeah? I gave my first blow job in that blackbox.”

“No, you fucking didn’t.”

“Yes I did!” 

“What was his name?”

“Jeremy.”

“Jeremy what?” 

“Jeremy . . . Barnes.”

“Pssh, fake name, fake boyfriend, fake story.” 

“He was real! I just . . . can’t remember his last name right now.” 

“Blurs together with all the other guys you’ve blown, right?” 

You bite the corner of your mouth, your smirk so tight he can almost picture your toes curling. Not that he’d dare break eye contact with you now. Now that he’s got you practically pinned to the bookshelf, photo forgotten and something that’s been slinking around for the past three hours finally rolling on its back and exposing its belly. 

He knows The Look, he practically invented it, and he can’t quite remember why it’s not okay to get that from your niece and someone twenty years younger than him. Right now, the portion of his brain that can sort that’s fucked up and it’s not that hard to refrain from being a fucking creep is filled with smoke, a sort of hissing sound there that is not unlike a shaken soda begging for release. 

And dear God does he want release. But he’s willing to edge it just a bit longer, scrape that muscle as gingerly as he can before touching it where it needs to be touched.

“I have no idea what you mean,” you say softly, meekly being cowed for the first time all night. Fuck, do you have to make it so easy?

“That’s right. You don’t. Because if it were any good, you’d remember it.” 

He puts a hand above your shoulder to stop himself from sinking into you. Weed made the world feel plushy, moldable – and he just wants to lounge in the dip of your bottom lip. You look so different from the girl who showed up soaking wet at his front door. 

Your breathing hitches the closer he comes, your eyes fluttering as you watch his fingers dig into the spines of the books. 

“What’s his first name again, darling? Do you still remember that?” 

You gasp, loudly, as if his itching fingers had finally sunk in between your legs, but you’re sliding away from him and pulling out something from the shelf. Something white and something he should have fucking hidden better. 

“Oh my God, is this my senior yearbook?” 

You’re wandering over to his bed, leaving Dieter reeling, his own spell so alarmingly effective he is caught beneath it too. It takes him a moment to blink as he realizes maybe this is where you reneg and decide you don’t want to fuck him after all. 

“It’s not as weird as it sounds –,” he begins, heart in his throat, and hands safely in his pockets as he joins you near the bed. You still haven’t looked up as you flip through the glossy pages.

“Sure, sure.” 

“Look, your dad sent it to me and I didn’t even open it,” he says honestly. The package was delivered on the Tuesday afternoon when he woke up so hungover he actually thought he might die, and couldn’t bear the thought of not recognizing you in the class photo. 

Funny how that all fucking worked out. 

You hadn’t leapt off the bed, called him a dirty old man, and ran away to call the police. Which are probably good signs. So, slowly, he sits down next to you, halfway on the bed and halfway off. 

“He sent it just a few weeks ago. I didn’t really think much of it at the time,” he says quietly. So you had been on the high school’s newspaper staff, as well as being the captain of the journalism club and ran the book club. You were on the volleyball team and co-Secretary of the student body government. Here, he spent all night trying to find out what kind of person you are when half your life is waiting for him upstairs. “But maybe he sent it as, like, some sort of . . . fond reminder.”

You snort, your thumb tucked under your chin as your hand touches the memories on the page.

“No, it fucking wasn’t. He was guilt-tripping you.” 

So your dad definitely still remembered the fight all those years ago. Dieter grimaces. His gaze slides from the stock pages, to your knee, down the crease of your thigh. 

“You know, he would have made me your godfather if–,” 

“If you weren’t such a fuck up. Yeah, he told me that too.” 

You finally look at him and find him nearly out of breath, eyes wide as though he had been struck by a sledgehammer right to the chest. 

“Actually, he told me if I came around more.” 

Your face crumples, the flippancy gone.

“Fuck, Dee, I’m sorry.” You cup the back of his neck with your palm in a soothing gesture and it stirs something within him. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It is what it is.” Deflection, distraction, escape.

You smile gently, thumbing his curls as your eyes roam his face, seeing right through his bullshit.

“You know, you kinda became the cautionary tale around us growing up,” you murmur, gaze searching his face. “Not sure why, though. Since you’re, like, a gazillionaire.”

Not worth it. None of it’s worth it.

“I get that. I get why he didn’t want me around. Probably best that I fucked off and never looked back.” 

The corners of your eyes crinkle, as though he had said something that didn’t make sense. You stop combing his hair and run your thumb over his ear. 

“But I don’t think you are,” you say slowly, as though you didn’t need to explain. “A cautionary tale, I mean. I think you’re . . . an inspiration. No one in our town ever fucking leaves, but you did. You got the fuck out and lived your dreams. And that’s pretty cool.” 

There’s not any hope for me, not if you knew all the fucked up shit I want to do to you. 

Don’t look at me like that. 

When he looks around for some self control, something to pull himself out of the pit he’s dragging you both in, there’s nothing. All eroded. 

Moral degradation is a smooth fucking shot. 

The yearbook drops from your lap, clatters to the ground as he takes your face with both his hands, his rings pressing into your cheeks, and kisses you so hard his lips knock against your teeth. The force of it rocks you flat against the mattress, your fingers wrapping around his wrists, grounding you to him – don’t take this back, don’t let go – and his tongue runs against your bottom lip once before your mouth opens without hesitation. He can feel that, that desperation, that eagerness to let him in, and he groans into the hollow of your mouth and you take it, you match it, just like everything else he'd given you this night. 

Your tongue rises to catch him, to guide him, to show him the places you need to be touched. He’ll get there, you little thing, so he nips your upper lip and you gasp, your body tightening beneath him. He grins – there’s so much you have to learn. 

His palm drifts away from your jaw, thumb gentle as it coaxes your cheek to the side, before he latches his lips to your neck, sucking and then a quick bite– all eased by his tongue. Your fingers dig up into his hair, clutching him to your chest as there is anything, anywhere else he’d rather be in the world. As if anyone could pry him off you. 

He dives back into your mouth, air rushing out of your nose in a silent moan, and your knee hooks out around his hips, pulling him into the cradle of your lap. You jerk back –

“Dee, you’re – holy shit –,” 

Your hips brush up as if you had somehow gotten it all wrong the first time. As if he isn’t rock hard above you. Your eyes widen as he smirks down at you.

“Yeah, baby, that’s all you. All you do to me.” 

He chuckles, dropping his head to your chest, breathing deeply, head spinning from kissing you so thoroughly. He inhales, nose rubbing against the soft material of your shirt, ideas of peeling it off you with his teeth. Your scent, it’s all at once intoxicating, mesmerizing, and . . . familiar. 

He groans, almost nuzzling your chest.

“Fuck, this smells like that nasty deodorant from 711 I used to buy ‘cause I couldn’t afford anything else.” 

You slowly open your eyes up at him, a distantly embarrassed smile curling up the corners of your mouth. You look hazy, blurred, lips flushed and pink from getting them sucked and bitten. Had he not just licked your entire mouth clean from spit, you might have blushed.

Your fingers curl gingerly around the back of his neck. “Well, you never forget your first.”

His mouth falls open. You had successfully knocked him back on his ass for a second time that night. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he husks, a grin breaking across his lips as the hand at your shoulder pulls gently at the sleeve. “This is my shirt? This has got to be older than you are.”

A small part of his brain, the part that definitely would object to fucking his pseudo-niece, goes warm at the thought that some part of him still lived in that neighborhood, was still there for all the important moments of your life. 

That is until the very active part of his brain lumbers in, quashes all gentle feelings and promptly wrestles for control of his mouth to ask you flat out if you ever touched yourself while wearing it. Not that he didn’t want to know, but if you said yes, he would have come right there on the spot, perhaps so hard his dick popped off. So he did not ask you that, but he did satisfy that part of his brain by molding his hand around your hip, so he could feel the cool fabric on the back of his hand, and your warm, plush skin against his palm. 

You like her being drenched in you, don’t you? 

You swat at his chest, rolling your eyes, oblivious to his rapidly darkening thoughts. “It is not older than me, but if it was . . . would that be a problem?”

You pick at imaginary lint on his shoulder, hips rolling just enough to indicate it better not be a fucking problem, and a smirk on your face that reads innocent and filthy all at once. 

Dieter shakes his head, grinning as he inches his wide palm up your hip, across the thin flesh of your ribs and – 

Does not find a bra. 

You had not been wearing a bra the entire night.

Your smirk deepens, your back arching into his palm, as his thumb brushes the underside of your breast, then over your tightening nipple. You moan softly, eyes fluttering, when he pinches it deftly. His jaw ticks, teeth grinding from the pleasure of watching your mouth arch open. 

It’s like you had been given a list of all the things that turned him on and you are crossing them off one by one. Like you had skinned him and read all his little nasty thoughts written on his ribs and made them your own.

Like you were made for him. 

He leans forward, the bristles of his beard and mustache rough like matches against the shell of your ear, his voice so weighty it could have been another physical thing he intended to drive into you, intended to rub against you to make you keen with pleasure. 

“It’s not a fucking problem, you little brat. Only problem is gonna be if it keeps me from watching those pretty tits bounce while I fuck you.”   

There it is. Out in the open. As if all his flirting and touching and tongue between his teeth hinted at something else besides you spread out under him. Half delirious from being so hard, he grins as he bites the bottom of the shirt – his shirt, Jesus Christ – and pulls it up and he ducks his head under the material and presses a sucking kiss into the valley of your tits. 

He likes giving head from underneath the sheets because, yes, it was hard to breathe. It was hot and stifling and everything smelled of sweat and sex and eventually his brain was forced to make a decision about what motor functions to hold onto and he made it focus on sensations until he was sure he’d be swallowed up by the cunt under his mouth or impaled by the cock in the back of his throat and if that’s how they found him dead, he’d be absolutely fine with all of it. 

Dieter Bravo – died doing what he loved. Giving immaculate, delicious head. 

The heat under the shirt is nowhere near as intense but it’s enough to make him flush with want. He licks the sweat gathering underneath your right tit, holds it on his tongue before he lathers both his spit and your sweat over your clearly-painfully tight nipple. Every touch of his makes you stutter and he can feel you unconsciously rubbing your hips up against him. 

“This isn’t going to end up on Youtube or some shit, right?” You ask above him, your voice rough as though your throat is dry. “You don’t have cameras filming this, right, Dee?” 

He chuckles with his nose rimming your left nipple. Do you have a voyeur kink? He muses vaguely. 

Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have gotten rid of that mirror. 

“No, baby, it’s not going on Youtube.” He runs his warm palms up the curves of your side as he tugs his head out from underneath the shirt. “All the videos go directly to a password-protected server in the Cloud.”

“Dee–,” you groan as he lunges forward and kisses you hopefully so hard it knocks those silly thoughts from your brain before pulling back to grin helplessly at you. 

You cannot physically describe how impishly adorable he looks with his hair mussed, his lips pink and twisted in a smirk – you cannot really do anything at all, really – but your hand slides up from his shoulder, across his warm neck and settles into his cheek. The last bit of brown is swallowed by a swelling blackness as you rub your thumb across the bottom of his lip. This thing that has been eating at you the longer you’re around him edges you on, daring you to push him just a bit further because it knows you’d just love what he’ll do. It knows more than you, but it’s not exactly smarter than you. It’s just simply fascinated by Dieter Bravo. 

Your own mouth parts, your eyelids growing heavy, as you swipe across his lips one more time before sliding your thumb into the warmth of his mouth. Eyes never leaving yours, his tongue greets your thumb, massaging the pad before licking around it like he’d swirl off the top of an ice cream cone. He sucks gently and you can’t fight the noise that comes out of you. Almost shocked, surprised that you can feel this aroused with all your clothes on and just his tongue. He drags his tongue across the back of your knuckle and the groan is louder now – you want to bite into him – and he pushes his hips into the mattress. 

“C’mere, baby girl–,” 

Dropping your thumb, he dives in again for your mouth, this time the back of his hand grasping your neck. He kisses you and kisses you and kisses you as if forgetting there was another way to relieve the tension in his gut, the spark that's fanning smoke like a brushfire into every place your skin, your spit, touches his. 

“Take– this– off–,” He pants between the hot presses of his mouth to your jaw, your neck, the spot beneath your ear that makes you keen in a new way. His hands are scrambling over yours to get the shirt up and over your head, desire almost making him panic that everything is going too fast but not fast enough – he wants to be inside of you in every way that matter – he wants you to smell like him – to breath his same air – 

He’s not so much kissing as opening his mouth over your skin, his teeth and tongue and lips fighting over themselves to get to you first. He wants to linger, wants to take his time but the pressure – he deliriously thinks he can smell you – and only when his fingers clamp down on the waistband of your shorts – he has half a mind to punish you for walking around in these things, making his sanity unwind in the hallways of this fucking place, until the only truly sane thing to do is fuck you and fuck you good – the thought is so strong, almost violent he pauses. 

He looks up to the devastation he’s left in his wake – bright, purple spots on the inside of your breasts, under your ribs, the small swell of your stomach, your chest heaving – and he watches your face. You realize he’s stopped moving, slowed in his volcanic thunderous roll down to the clutch of your cunt, and you meet his gaze. You swallow, mouth too dry to form words, so you splat a hand on his shoulder. 

"No robe. I’m not – not going to let you f-fuck me in a bathrobe.” 

He grins. Of course, you would sass him after a make out session so intense he doesn’t even care if he comes in his pants. But he obliges, pretty much willing to cut off a finger if you continue to purr at him like you are. 

“Excuse you, this is lounge wear.” He leans back onto his knees and shrugs himself out of the green robe. Your eyes flash to the triangle on his forearm and he’d be fucked to admit he didn’t get it entirely for the look in your eyes right now. Chicks always dug the tattoos. Your tits bounce as your breathing hitches. 

Not Daddy’s girl, his smoke-heavy, lust-soaked brain chants at him, not Daddy’s girl. 

God, he’s so hard it hurts. 

He goes back down, dropping himself between your legs, arms tucked up under the backs of your thighs. He mouths the inside of your thigh – a distraction as his hand, like some sort of fucked up, horny magician performs a slight-of-hand, “iiiis this your clit?” – rubs you over your shorts. You are soaking wet and he’s fighting the urge to just dig in there, suckle you through the wet spot. He hadn’t actually made someone come that way before, but now seemed like an excellent opportunity to try. 

“You know, for someone who has to couch-surf, you talk a lot.” 

He noses the rim of the bottom of your shorts, allowing a full gaze down to your ass. 

“Sorry if I’m sick of fucking boys who look like their mom dressed them.” You are breathless, shaky, unwinding at the seams and you know exactly what to say to dig right into him. 

He bites the soft place at the back of your thigh and you groan. 

“I thought you couldn’t remember any of them before me,” he purrs, watching that damp spot grow darker the longer he talks, the longer he holds off on touching you where you and him and the entire fucking world knows you need to be touched. 

Maybe you ran your mouth too, when you were nervous, overwhelmed. Maybe you laughed too loud when you didn’t know what else to do, and maybe you gave him shit because the second words stopped coming out of your mouth, you’d have to sink into whatever he was giving you. You’d have to kneel to the white lighting between your legs. Maybe you were afraid there wouldn’t be white lightning at all. 

Families share similar insecurities, after all. 

He waits until you open your mouth again before hooking his fingers under the band of your shorts. 

“Hmm, there’s actually a fairly long list of guys before you. Guys who–,” 

He sucks the skin just an inch to the right of your hip bone, just before the patch of curly hair, he sucks it into his mouth and bites so gently he knows that your brain nearly splits in half from the hairline fracture between pleasure and pain. 

You gasp and you’re already arching off the bed. He breathes across those coarse, damp curls and inhales. 

Girlsex. 

Girlsweat. 

It’s like there’s acid corroding his brain, eating away at the clamps holding his sanity together and he’s gonna go fucking ballistic if the acid doesn’t get to him first. But he wants the burn. He wants the chemical smell. 

He wants . . . to put his dick into something. 

But first – 

You’re pliable. Easy to move as he scoops your shorts off your ass – Oh, fucking Christ, there’s her entire backside, isn’t there? – over your thighs and he hurls the shorts over his shoulder. He inhales–

God, this pussy is going to kill me, he thinks or maybe says out loud before he tips forward into that black, fluttering hole. When he licks you, you both moan. 

He remembers specifically doing planks for as long as he could to build up the upper body strength to languish here for hours.

Well, at the time, here wasn’t here here, but if everything before this was practice, then he was ready for the Olympics, dick as hard as a goddamn gold medal. 

He swipes up with his tongue, licking and sucking and swirling like frosting was going out of style. Frosting, that’s it. That’s what you reminded him of. Fat, sweating, sweet frosting. And there was the cherry on top. 

He guides your clit into his mouth, his fingers digging into the tops of your thighs as if to pull himself deeper into the wettest goddamn pool at the fucking YMCA. He sucks once and your hands fly into his hair. You’re making sounds that somewhat resemble his name, but they’re too high, too pitchy, too airless to be anything coherent. 

He wants to tease you about all the boys you mentioned. Wants you to go back on your word, beg for him to believe that there was no one else before him. If there was, it didn’t matter because this is it. This is the best you’d ever have. 

Even when you left him, you’d never forget – 

Disgustingly, he slurps up one lip of yours into his mouth and you cry out, fingernails digging into his scalp so hard that it hurts and sends another rush of blood into his weeping cock. He mouths up before teasing your clit again – around it but never on it – before diving back down and lapping up your other lip. 

“Dieter–,” you garble as if you know it’s filthy. He can hear your breathing tighten in your chest, feel your thighs clench around his ears, and he swears if he gets out of this with hair in tact, that’s the most he’s going to ask for –

And he french-kisses your clit.

You come, gasping, writhing, back arching off the mattress and he bares his forearm across your stomach, reaching up to pinch your nipple. 

Settle down. We’re only just getting started. 

He’s got to control himself but staring up at you, your face flushed with pleasure, he can’t quite remember what he’s supposed to do next. 

You are naked underneath him. Naked and heaving and he licks the dampness staining his mattress just to have your taste in his mouth again. This is going to be a problem, if he can’t think straight without his mouth on you. 

Oh my God, duh, fingers. 

He pulls himself up the length of your body, and his hands sink into your hair. His fingers curl around your ear as he makes you look at him.

“How are you feeling?” It’s an echo of what he asked earlier. You’re still warm but your breathing has slowed. Your eyes are open, even if they’re fighting to stay open as if you are concussed. 

“Good. Great.” You mutter, hand falling to his chest and tangling with his shirt. 

“You wanna keep going?”

Your eyes open wider as if someone rang a dinner bell and you’d been walking on hands and knees, starving for weeks. You swallow thickly, nodding frantically, and the hand leaves his chest, winding down between you and, before he can stop you, slides under the material of his sweats and strokes him. 

Your hands are like velvet.

Fuck, then what’s your cunt gonna feel like– 

Do not fucking come right now. 

“Oh, I see,” you huff, a smirk curling your mouth up, as if you had won some unnamed battle. You roll your shoulder to go aaall the way down his cock and stroke him. You think about licking your hand, but the precum leaking out of the tip of his head at a truly flattering rate is enough lubricant to keep your hand from sticking. “I can’t walk around without a bra on, but you can walk around in these thin fucking sweatpants and no underwear.”

He grits his teeth, dropping his head to his chest, trying to breath through the freightcar rattling down his spine.

“It’s my house, you little cocktease,” he pants, gasping as you run your thumb against the vein underneath his shaft. You pump him again and again and he groans low, with his eyes shut to keep them from rolling back in his head. “I can– yeah, right there – do whatever I want. Move your hand. I want to stick my fingers in you.” 

His words aren’t so crass they make your ears red, but it’s the unrestrained need in his voice. You slowly withdraw your hands and you go wipe the threads of him on the mattress as he sits up to take his shirt off. 

“Don’t. Just– gimme a second.” 

He yanks the tank shirt over his head, setting down in between your legs again and blinking like he’d forgotten where he was. He takes your hand, licks your palm as clean as something as dirty as this could ever get, and then penetrates your hole with his middle finger. His tongue slides in the crevice between your ring finger and your pinkie and when he adds a second finger below, you both can feel the moment your brain is wiped blank and your body twitches along with it. 

“Mhmm, good.” He pulls you down closer to him, fingers plucking your strings like the finest guitar. Your knees are spread wider than when he had half his body down there. He’s watching you practically drown his hand in the wetness seeping out, his other hand holding or balancing your knee. 

He hovers above you, watching you roll and writhe and beg. His forearm is strained, his hand must be soaking, and he thinks your face contorted in pleasure might be permanently burned into his brain. There is still some part of him that knows that’s wrong. He shouldn’t have the faintest idea of what you looked like, high and blissed out of your mind, while his fingers stroke and dig and pluck and rub to drag you higher and higher – 

The pad of his middle finger brushes something spongy and you nearly slam your legs shut over his arm, if it weren’t for his free hand pinning you open. 

“Dee,” you croak, head shaking, “that was – you can’t–,”

His eyes flutter at the sound of your voice so wrecked. He needs to memorize that exact spot, save it for when you don’t have enough sanity left to push back. It’s scary, he knows, but you must be out of your goddamn mind if you thought he was going to let anything bad happen to you. 

“Look at my thumb. Baby, look down.” 

You wrench your eyes open, past your quivering chest, down his long forearm, down to where the black bullseye on the meat of the space between his thumb and palm is winking at you. 

He’s stroking you with his thumb on your clit and the bullseye winking up at you. It’s eye-fucking you and that’s enough to break you. He wants to drink whatever drips out of you as your body locks up, head thrown back, and you come. You break through and his hand curls around your knee, gently, as he watches your body crescendo for the second time that night. He sucks his fingers, almost pensively, as if he is going to carve something out of you. Remake you. Split apart your atoms and rebuild you whole. Sex as an act of re-creation. 

He kneels his way out of his pants, cock pounding red, leaking, the hot center of where his want for you is infecting him like a sickness. 

Slowly, he drags one of your knees over his shoulder, half of your body hovering just above the mattress. 

He wants to ask if you need it rough or slow. He can’t be gentle right now but he does have enough awareness to keep from hurting you. But maybe you, like him, like a little bit of pain. 

He wants you on top, wants to see you sing for him, but he knows your legs are jelly. He knows there’s a white static hum in your brain and he’s so grateful for the pleasure of it. 

He rubs the top of your thigh and noses the back of your ankle up by his ear. 

“Do you want me to put a condom on?” he asks quietly, before kissing that spot below your ankle.

“Are you clean?” He’s so fucking broad and his rings pinch your skin when he pushes too hard and he’s asking for your comfort. You also want to feel every inch of his cock and you beg him to say yes. 

He nods, suddenly irrationally thankful of Paul’s monthly mandated screenings. You get the clap once, and your fucking manager never lets you forget it. 

You huff, realizing you’re so close your cunt can almost taste it. “I-I’m on the pill. A-a-and I’m clean too.” 

As if he had ever denied you anything, as if his willpower hadn’t barely lasted four hours, you tense at the anticipation of his cock. 

He’s just as warm, just as ready, so he grabs your other ankle and draws it next to your other one against the back of his neck. He sinks back just a bit on his ankles, fingers spreading you and grabbing himself and then–

It’s like getting the wind knocked out of you and getting sprayed with a hose of fire all at once. 

“JesusfuckingChrist, you’re tight.” 

He edges deeper as he sits up right, going slow not because he hadn’t unwound you properly but because if he went any faster, he’d obsess over the idea of getting rug burns on his dick. 

“Dieter, oh God–,”

Hands leaving your ankles to wrap around your thighs, he rocks his hips back and drags out his cock just as much as the both of you can handle before thrusting forward. Again.

Again. He can’t seem to fill you enough. He wants to be bigger, thicker, girthier, if only to plug you up more. 

But, fuck, your cunt is better than your hands but only because it’s so warm and wet and throbbing and he swears his heartbeat is in his ears. 

He thrusts almost lazily, dipping his head to kiss your shin before dropping it back, your toes brushing his hair. His hands greedily squeeze your thighs, thumbs rubbing circles. 

It’s like he has to recover from the shock and sensation of fucking you. It’s too good. It’s too much. 

He’s inside of you.

If there’s a relief fund for grilled cheese, he’s going to have to donate every red cent he’s ever owned. 

Your hands clench the sheets, mouth open and, yes, beautiful tits bouncing with every thrust. It’s not them hovering above him, begging to be bitten, but it’s close and he smooths his hand down from your thigh over his chest, down your hip and he kneads your breast. 

“Oh, fuck, Dee, fuck . . . you feel so fucking good.” 

I want to die in this cunt. 

“So good, baby.” 

It’s back, that pressure that connects the backs of his eyes, to the back of his gut, all the way to his pussy-soaked cock. This time he lets it build, lets it dangle out of reach, and his thrusts become faster, hurried. You jerk beneath him and let out a full whine as if he had spanked you. 

He fucks you some more this way, just to feel that tightening in his gut, before he pulls your legs off his shoulders and you whine again, this time out of annoyance. 

He has the where-with-all to smirk.

“What, baby doesn’t like it when I take away her toys?” He pants, almost feeling light-headed. You scowl at him but don’t push back in the least as he turns you onto your hands and knees. 

“It was just starting to feel good, you a-ahh–ss–,”

He jerks his hips into you without warning, fully seating you on his cock and your head drops between your shoulders. 

“If you weren’t such a brat, you’d be kind of cute,” he murmurs as he rubs his thumb over the knots in your spine, the sensation of your cunt sucking him in almost detaching him from this plane of existence. He knows you like to be teased, with his words, with his fingers, his mouth. He wants to give you everything – anything – he’s so pussy-obsessed he can feel it like ozone in his mouth.

He never wants to stop fucking you. He’s being unstable about it. 

“You like that I’m a brat,” you say and push back with your hips. The sensation does make him stutter and you take it as a win. His rings sting as they squeeze your hips. 

He’s sliding down that pressure, winding himself up so tightly in it he wants to stop breathing – 

He starts pumping faster. The sounds that echo in that room are like music to his ears.

The sheets ruffling as your hands clench around them. The jolt of the bed as it lurches back and forth.

Your moans as he fucks every thought out of your head. “Fuck, you’re so big. It’s not fair.” 

The wet slap of his thighs meeting yours. 

And it all narrows down, the universe closing to a single focal point–  all of it runs right to his cock rubbing up inside your cunt like it owns the place.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you groan, head down. “Please – please fuck me harder, Uncle Dieter.” 

With a growl that surprised even him, he drops forward, one hand anchoring himself to your hip and the other coming up around your throat. You gasp as his fingers dig painfully into your skin. He pulls you both up right, nose in your ear and teeth tight in his jaw. 

He punctuates every word with a particularly brutal thrust that gnaws at something truly devastating inside you. 

“Don’t – fucking – call me that – while – I’m inside – you–,”

You turn your head, flush with his and the hand that’s on your throat slides up to your cheek and he holds you there, pins you there as his cock pounds the daylights out of you. 

“Say my name.” He husks. There’s something cataclysmic happening inside your cunt and he has the launch codes. 

You can’t remember feeling so full before. So up your eyes and your mouth and your ears and your heart – God, maybe there really hadn’t been anyone before him. 

“Oh, fuck, Dieter,”

“No, honey, my real name.” 

Your eyes flicker open and something in his chest roars. He’ll kiss you after this. He’ll kiss you so hard you end up on another fucking planet. 

“David.” 

The sweat on his temples mixes with yours and he wants to smear himself in your fluids. This close, his beard and mustache rub roughly against your skin and you wonder how long the burn will last after all this. You’re clenching his arm, clenching his lower back to you, you think you’ll make him bleed in half-moon cuts of blood. 

“All of it. All of it, baby girl,” he whispers to your cheek, your jaw. “Say it. I need to hear it. I need to hear it from you.” 

Your fucked-out mind spins, clutching at the memories of the past, to a name you hadn’t heard in a decade, while the man you’ve known all your life threatens to undo your sanity. You lock eyes with him, the precipice of something so large and looming, you can’t wait to be crushed by it.

“Davíd Moralés.” 

And that bastard’s cock intentionally pushes against that spongy spot and you shriek. Honest to God, yell, as you come, with Dieter wrapped up against your back, sweat streaking both of you.

“Get down,” he hisses suddenly and almost throws you off him. You land on your back, your entire body pulsing as one single organism, and he grabs his cock in time to aim it at your chest. 

He comes, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut, as he sprays you with white ropes. It’s warm on your tits and you shudder through your aftershocks. You feel like you’re sinking into warmth as he keeps coming, your inner thighs drenched and dripping, and finally, he leans away and collapses on the bed next to you.

There’s ringing in your ears. 

You feel swollen all over, your nerve centers humming and firing and crackling as though someone whapped you over the head with a 500 volt electric baton. You want to keep sinking, keep drifting, keep existing in this warm, non-corporeal form. Everything feels so good here.

You had no idea you, or anyone else for that matter, could come that hard. 

“Holy shit.” 

You can’t help but grin through the short huffs of breath you swallow down in gasps. 

You want to sass him but it feels a bit like spitting in the face of God. “Yeah. Holy shit.” 

He sits up on his elbows, glancing over his side at you, the begrudgingly fantastic cock between his legs as deflated as you are. 

“Are you okay? Fuck, sorry, I got a little crazy there at the end.” 

You shake your fist loosely, with your thumb and pinky finger extended. “I don’t hear customer service calling. In fact, I think the line has been permanently disconnected.” 

You both laugh softly and his eyes roam over your face. This is why he only saw vampy women. It was easier to wake up to something almost over-the-top hot, than this. Than you, with your beautifully flushed cheeks, plump lips, and eyes that searched only for him. 

His gut twisted painfully. Okay, you nutted so hard you’re pretty sure your dick isn’t going to work for a week, now wake up. Wake up and smell the fucking arrest warrant. 

Uncle Dieter. You're his niece. 

What the fuck were you thinking? Where could this possibly go?

Instead of inspecting the small-starting-to-grow painful throbbing in his chest, he sits up and pleasantly inspects the mess you both made all over you. You follow his gaze, smirking as he intentionally smears his cum over your skin with his thumb.

“Oh, and that thing you did at the end, where you made me–,”

“Yeah?” He grinned wickedly, almost begging you to use your words, but you had been so good for him. He’d save that for later. “You liked that?”

“At the risk of sounding desperate, yes. A thousand times yes. But totally unfair and totally cheating.”

He snickers and leans down to your thighs. “Yeah, okay, Ms. I’m Not Wearing a Bra.” 

The smell of you is intoxicating and it’s drenching your thighs, the sheets below you. Maybe he could strip the bed before Maria came – oh, fuck, what if it’s in the mattress?

He hauls those thoughts out of his mind, his dick twitching uncomfortably, as he bends forward and licks the inside of your thigh.

“Oh my God, Dee, you can’t possibly be –,”

“Relax. I’m not. Just wanted to clean you up.”

He licks the drying liquid from your skin – you hiss, so very overstimulated – dragging his tongue up, never breaking eye contact with you as he slinks up your body, shoulders rolling – “Dee, wait, you’re gonna–,” and licks the cum off your chest. His own cum. 

“Oh, fuck, that’s nasty,” you murmur, eyes transfixed on his mouth as he swallows. He chuckles, finally deciding you’ve had enough for one night, and he leans forward and presses his lips on your temple. 

“I’m not ready, but it sounds like you might be.” 

He reaches back to the floor where his shirt was so casually discarded. He gingerly wipes your thighs, your hips, your stomach and chest. There’d be time for a proper wash later, but right now he thinks he’s going to pitch forward into unconsciousness in less than thirty seconds. His limbs are heavy, his eyelids are heavy but he can’t stop smiling.

You grin at him as he tosses the very used shirt back onto the ground and gets up from the bed to disappear into the bathroom. You roll onto your side, after unpeeling the bedsheets like you had done it a thousand times. When he comes back, you rub your face against his pillows and he realizes if he’s going to hoard the sheets, then he’s going to have to do the same to the pillowcase. 

“I’m not gonna wake up and find you mouthing that shirt, am I?” You ask, a smirk already cradling your lips. He huffs at you as he hands you a glass of water. You take it, gratefully, only vaguely aware that he probably did that kind of thing all the time with his other conquests. 

That thought threatens to sour your good mood so you put the glass back onto the bedside table and curl deeper into the sheets. 

He climbs in behind you, and rubs his nose over your shoulder and up into your ear, his hand spread across your hip. 

“Only if I wake up in the middle of the night and can’t mouth your tits.” 

He’s purposefully being sexy, being teasing, but there’s a question there. A request. A quiet ask that for all his thick dick swinging, doesn’t have the cojones to verbalize. 

 You smirk at him and roll back slightly to catch his mouth. You thread your fingers through his hair and squeeze once. 

“Baby, I couldn’t stand up right if I fucking tried.”

He grins, eyes warm. “Wow. Even if you fucking tried?”

God, this is such a bad idea.

“Even if I fuck-in’ tried.” 

But despite all his not-at-all begging, he wakes up alone. 

He wakes up in broad daylight – the storm had passed. Too bright light streams in from between the gray curtains, illuminating the one thing he never wanted to see: your side of the bed empty. 

His heart clenches so fast he thinks he might be sick. There’s real nausea as he stumbles to his feet and pulls his pants on from last night. He’s about to rush down the stairs, frantically flipping over everything in hopes of finding a note, even if it told him to fuck off. 

You’re twenty years older than me, you fucking creep.

Just wait until my dad hears about this. 

I never want to see you again. 

Just as his mouth dries up till his lips crack, he sees something on the other side of the bed that makes him freeze in his tracks. It’s your phone, plugged into the wall. He goes over and taps the screen. The battery has only 15%. 

And then a post-storm breeze rattles the patio door handle and it opens slightly. He sees your barefoot through the cut in the door frame. 

Holy fuck, you’re still here, just outside. 

Heart now jettisoning into his throat, he opens the door to a truly spectacular morning. His patio looks down to the freshly-washed Los Angeles, the sky a cobalt blue, the air cool and faintly smelling of rain. People run and lead their dogs through the streets and for a minute he thinks he can hear the ocean. 

But what makes it truly spectacular is you. Curled up at the small table in one of his white shirts and those sanctimonious shorts. You’ve got a cup of coffee in your hand and you’ve got his favorite book, Eco’s The Name of the Rose, lying flat beneath your fingertips. But you aren’t reading. You’re looking at him.

“Well, hi there. Did you dream you missed a flight?”

He blinks. “What?” 

“You just, sort of, rushed out here, looking like you forgot something.” You frown. “Is everything okay?”

He swallows and it’s all he can do to keep from dropping to his knees and pressing his face into your lap. 

“Yeah, fine, fine. All good. Fine.” 

You turn back to the book, staring at it as if it was giving you a pep talk. Then you shut it and turn back to him.

“So, um, last night . . .” 

Here it comes. I regret it, all of it. You drugged me and took advantage of me. I can’t believe that you would–

“Was great.” 

He swears he hears his blood rushing in his ears. You smile at him, but clearly uneasy. As if you are the one second-guessing it all. 

Fuck, Bravo, put on your big boy pants.

He pulls out the other patio chair and sits down next to you. He clasps his hands, leaning forward on his elbows. His rings clink together. He nods, trying to catch your eyes.

“Yeah. It was fucking fantastic. I mean it. One for the books.”

He waits for you to say but. 

You wait for him to say but.

Neither of you do. You grin and put your coffee on the table. 

“So, in the events of last night . . . surprisingly, I forgot to charge my phone.”

He doesn’t want to touch you because he thinks it might spook you so he runs his gaze over your lovely knuckles, your wrist. 

“Sounds like, then, you might need to stay awhile.” 

You swallow, unable to contain the growing smile on your face. You duck your head and he follows you and your breath fans his face. 

“Guess so.” 

If he tells it, he says he kissed you.

If you tell it, you say you kissed him. 

Doesn’t matter though. Doesn’t matter that the coffee grows cold and he ignites something in you that you didn’t know existed.

When he finally pulls away, he’s still smiling. 

“This might be a bit weird, but . . . wanna see my other kitchen?”

The End

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Question...? Act V - “On your mind with some dickhead guy…”

Pairing - Steve Rogers x Reader Summary - After years of back and forth, years of unknowns, a lifetime of questions, it's time for answers.

Question...? Mini Series List | Steve Rogers Masterlist

1 Year Earlier... 

“Can I ask you a question?” 

The question is so timid. It's just loud enough for him to hear you over the music that plays in the bar. It was strange. The way you speak to him. The way he speaks to you. How you hold yourself tense and guarded. Once upon a time, Steve was your safe space, the person you trusted more than anyone, but that couldn't be any further from the truth now. 

Sure, you'd reconciled since that ill-fated glorified make out session. Almost two years had come and gone. And still, you both knew that things were never quite the same.

Steve looks on for a moment. There's a palpable tension as he stares at his now warm bottle of beer. He nods, taking another long pull from the bottle, “Go for it.” 

You finish the last of your cocktail, turning to face him, “What do you think of him? Be honest.” 

He does his very best not to grit his teeth or roll his eyes. There was a reason he was here tonight. There was a reason you invited all of your friends here tonight. To meet you newest boyfriend. The newest in a string of boyfriends from the last two years.

Steve snorts, “I haven’t even talked to the guy yet.” 

You roll your eyes, flagging down the bartender, “Yeah, like that’s ever stopped you from passing judgment on any of my dates.” 

A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, “You could do better.” 

You scoff, “You always say that.” 

It's Steve's turn to roll his eyes. A soft, playful laugh escapes his lips, “I do not always say that.” 

“You do!" you exclaim, a hint of a laugh threaded through your words. "You always say that!” 

“Why do you even care what I think?” 

“Because you’re my best friend.” 

“I’m surprised you didn’t revoke that title from me after I acted like such an asshole.” 

Steve instantly regrets bringing it up when he sees your smile momentarily slip. You shake your head, “That was almost two years ago, and we’re in such different places now. It’s water under the bridge.”

“I know. I just - I would understand if things couldn’t go back to the way they were. Like I said I was an asshole. I’m surprised you even care what I think, clearly I’m not very good at this whole dating thing.”

His shoulders tense at the reminder. Now, the shoe was on the other foot.

For two years, he watched as you dated countless losers and dickhead guys.

For two years, he watched, knowing he didn't have a right to do a damn thing about it. He'd lost that right two years ago.

You hesitantly rest your hand on his shoulder, “Listen, I know things were a little tense with us, but you’re still my best friend, Steve. Of course I care what you think.” 

He returns a smile that he only hopes looks more sincere than it feels. That's all he was to you these days. A friend. He knows the 'best' was only for old time's sake. For all intents and purposes, Bucky had taken that role from him. He couldn't even blame you for it, not in the slightest. You'd been more kind and generous than he deserved.

Even now, you were here talking to him, metaphorically reaching out to him again.

You always gave him so much more than he deserved.

Perhaps that's why he was so insistent and stubborn about the losers you dated. Deep down, he knows you deserve so much more than they could ever give you, so much more than he could ever give you.

“You’re my best friend too.”

“Can you just say that again on camera?” you joke, reaching for your phone. “I need to rub that in Bucky’s face.”

“Not a chance.”

“Come on, we should head to the table. They’ll be waiting for us.” 

He helps you with the round of drinks for the table, walking behind you as you walk towards a different man. He watches as you settle back next to your boyfriend. 

“Ahh… the famous Steve.” Your boyfriend reaches out to shake Steve’s hand. Steve already hates the man. He doesn't like the glaring smell of booze coming from his breath. The way he snakes an arm around you like he's staking a claim on you in front of Steve. “I gotta keep an eye on you.” 

“Excuse me?” Steve cocks an eyebrow, a tight grimace hardening on his face. 

Sam quickly chimes in with an awkward chuckle. “Just ignore Steve, he’s a little grumpy tonight.”

“Women troubles?” your boyfriend guesses. 

Steve does his very best to tamper his reaction. If only for your sake. He nods, graciously taking the life preserver that Sam threw his way. “Something like that.” 

“You can’t live with them, but you can’t live without them, am I right?” he jokes, tossing a heavy arm over your shoulder. 

It's clear to everyone at the table that your new boyfriend was more than a little far gone by that point. Bucky’s gaze finds yours, he quirks an eyebrow at you, silently asking you what the hell you were thinking. 

You shoot a glare at him while your boyfriend stares at Steve for another long moment. You turn to your boyfriend, smiling as you introduce your friends, “Anyway… this is Bucky, who lived down the street from me and Steve when we were kids. And this is Sam and his girlfriend, Natasha. Sam works with Steve at the VA.”

Your boyfriend tips his head at the group, “It’s nice to meet you all.”

“So how did you two meet?” Natasha asks. 

Before you can answer, he talks over you, “Mutual friend from work. I told him I wanted the most beautiful woman in the building, but she wasn’t available.”

A laugh bubbles out of his throat at his own joke at your expense. Even you find yourself at a loss for words, awkwardly chuckling at your boyfriend’s strange attempt at a joke. 

“Well,” Sam clears his throat, doing his best to remedy the increasingly awkward situation, “You, um, you two must be hitting it off pretty well if she’s introducing you to all of us at once.”

"I'd say so," your boyfriend snorts. “It’s an interesting group you’ve got here.” 

“Oh yeah,” Bucky agrees. “We’ve all known each other for years. I don’t know life without these idiots.” 

“Huh…” your boyfriend tsks. 

Your heart sinks as you realize what's about to start drunkenly pouring out of your boyfriend's mouth. You rest your hand on his chest, "Please don't start. Let's have a good time tonight."

He shakes off your hand, rolling his eyes. “No, it's fine! Come on, you said you're all friends, aren't you?” 

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow. “Yeah…”

He turns to Sam, “And you’re okay with that?”

Sam’s signature goofy grin falters for a moment. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Your boyfriend shrugs. “It’s just… weird.” 

You look at Steve, who remains stoically staring at your boyfriend with a look that could kill. Bucky’s gaze volleys to you, then to Steve, then back to you. “Why is that weird?”

“It’s just unnatural.”

Bucky bites back his sarcastic retort, shaking his head as he refuses to respond to that. Natasha pipes in, “Unnatural? Why is that ‘unnatural’?”

“Come on, babe,” he cajoles you. “Back me up here.”

The truth of the matter was that this night was supposed to assuage your boyfriend’s concerns about your friendship group. Mostly where Steve and Bucky were concerned. He simply couldn't fathom that your relationship was truly platonic. And while, that was only partially true where Steve was concerned, you weren't about to give him more reason to be jealous and petty.

And you never in your wildest dreams thought that he would bring it up in front of them.

You lean closer to him, your voice dropping, “Can we please talk about this in private?”

“Come on,” he scoffs, brushing you off. “I just think it’s a little weird for men and women to be as tight knit as you guys are.” 

“What the hell does that mean?” Steve sharply asks.

Other than just outright disagreeing with your new boyfriend's hot take, Steve can't help but wonder how could this guy not recognize that meeting your girlfriend's friends wasn't exactly an appropriate place for talking about gender roles and friendship dynamics?

Your eyes dart to Steve, silently imploring him to reel in his clear frustration. 

Your boyfriend tosses back yet another drink before leaning in and smirking at Steve. “Nothing, it’s just - how close are you guys really?” 

“Does the concept of friendship evade you or somethin’?” Steve bites back. "Or are you too drunk off your ass to think straight?"

“Whoa, whoa!" Your boyfriend raises his hand, feigning innocence. He condescendingly adds, "I’m just saying. I think it’s weird.”

“So if it bothers you, why the hell are you here tonight?” Steve snarls. 

“Steve,” you hiss. You lean over across the table, trying to implore him to behave, "That's enough." 

“I never said it bothered me." Your boyfriend settles back into his seat, finally removing his hands from you entirely. "I mean, maybe if I was more serious about her, it would bother me.”

Your eyes flicker to Steve with an apologetic expression. You take your boyfriend's hand, trying to pull him out of the booth. “He’s kidding.”

“Is he?” Steve challenges. 

Your boyfriend wrenches his hand out of your grip, only enraging Steve even further with his clear lack of consideration for you. 

“Oh please, like you haven’t thought about it?” His gaze volleys between Steve and Bucky. "Passing her around between the two of you?”

“Hey,” Bucky warns. 

Your cheeks flame, partially covering your face in embarrassment, “It’s fine, Bucky. He’s drunk. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.” 

“I think I’m right on the money,” your boyfriend slurs. “I see how Stevie’s been looking at you. All night he’s been watching you.” 

“I’m warning you,” Steve rumbles. “Shut your mouth before I knock a few teeth out.”

“Steve!” you scold. “That’s enough!” 

Your boyfriend chuckles, tossing back the rest of your drink, “Don’t worry, when I’m done you can have my sloppy seconds.”

The moment the words leave your now ex-boyfriend’s mouth, Steve’s fist flies.

And just like he promised, it lands square in the face. You swear you can hear the impact with a sickening crunch of his nose. A shocked gasp flies out of your mouth as your boyfriend's hand clutches his nose.

He whines in pain, "You asshole!"

There's not much Steve can say or do as the bouncer reacts, hauling Steve out of the booth. Sam dashes over to the bar for a rag for your boyfriend's bloody nose. 

And in spite of your now ex-boyfriend's medical emergency, you storm after Steve. You throw the door to the bar open to find Steve taking deep breaths in the brisk, nighttime air. “What the hell, Steve?”

He stares out into the street like he also can't believe what he just did. “I’m - I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?" you repeat in disbelief. "What the hell were you thinking?”

“I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know? You just got into a pissing match with my boyfriend and you don’t know?” 

His hand rakes through his hair, “I’m drunk, alright? Things got out of hand.” 

“You aren’t drunk," you accuse. "And even if you were, it doesn’t justify you breaking someone’s nose!”

Steve whirls around with a harsh glare, “So you’ll excuse his actions, but not mine?” 

“I’m not excusing anything!" you shout back. "I was trying to de-escalate, but you seemed pretty hellbent on making things worse!” 

“I am not going to let anyone talk about you like that. Especially some sleazy, dickhead guy that doesn’t deserve you.” 

“You don’t get to tell me what I deserve!" You know you're fully yelling at this point, but you can't bring yourself to care. Your blood boils. "You don’t get to tell me that every guy I bring around is an asshole!”

"I know that!" he explodes. You freeze. He rakes his fingers through his hair. His chest heaves, his shoulders rising and falling like he can't breathe without you. "I know that. And it kills me! Can't you see that it's killing me?" 

You suck in a breath, your eyes blowing wide. "Steve..."

His eyes are pleading, “Doesn’t it feel like everything is just second best?”

"What?" 

"Nothing." He shakes his head repeatedly. "Like I said, I'm drunk." 

You know he's lying. That's clear to Steve. But when he looks at you, he sees those 3 months.

More specifically those three months after that ill fated night. It took you three months to even be in the same room as him, another month before you could even look him in the eye, and yet another month to even say more than a few words to him.

It took all that time and an intervention from Bucky to get even a whisper of you back in his life. 

He looks at you, and he sees the last two years. Two years without his best friend. He feels your absence all at once, hitting him like a ton of bricks. He recalls the feeling of you beneath his fingertips. He recalls the way his heart shattered just a little more every time you declined his calls, ignored his messages. 

His heart hammers against his ribcage with that realization.

Because when he looks at you, he sees the loss of his life.

A loss he's not sure he could bear. He's not strong enough. Not brave enough. So if this is all he can have, if all he gets are whispers of you, he'll take it. 

He'll do anything to keep you, even if it means he'll never get to have all of you. 

As you take a step forward, he takes two steps back. He shakes his head, "I'm sorry." 

And without another word, he leaves. 

Question...? Mini Series List Inspired By Taylor Swift Steve Rogers Masterlist

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[deliciousbasementtrash]

Playing Nurse for the Batfam

Artist: Dexter Soy

Summary: you are a nurse working for Gotham General Hospital. Batman has offered you a job. You are now a nurse for the entire Batfamily. You have been asked by Bruce if you are working with the very people he fights against.

Pairing: Slowburn Jason Todd x Female!reader

Warning: Adult language, mentions injuries, sexual language

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist

Note: These characters are not my own they belong to DC. The only character that is 'mine' is the reader. I am going to be as nondescript as possible for the reader as well for physical attributes. This is a continuation series; I’m not sure how long it will be. Also for some reason, my replies to comments are not showing up. I’m not ignoring your comments Tumblr won’t let me respond :( But please, please comment I live for it

Part 11: Honesty

“How many villains have you helped in the past? And are you helping them now?”

Everything for me stopped at that moment. Having Bruce’s eyes on me, a certain type of panic filled my chest. I had to mentally remind myself that he was not my father and he was not going to hurt me. That didn’t stop my pulse from racing. It didn’t stop my mouth becoming dry. It didn’t stop the fear that ripped into me so brutally that my hands shook. I picked at the skin around my nails, the stinging pain made me focus. 

I could play dumb, but there was no way Bruce fucking Wayne wouldn���t see right through that. I could deny the accusations and demand to know why he would think that. I could quit and save myself the trouble. 

Or I could do the scariest thing of all… tell the truth. 

Gotham City: 14 Years Ago

I looked across the table at a man who didn’t feel human. He felt closer to a demon, a devil, a monster. He felt truly vile. His eyes were dark, empty, and joyless. He had a smile carved into his face, but I knew it would never meet his eyes. It took everything in me to remain neutral and heal him. 

He had several cuts along his arms, but they were in various positions, various angles, and various lengths. They were random. 

The creature must have noticed me staring, “Little girl, ask me how I got these cuts!” His voice was shrill, and he cackled when he noticed I flinched. When I didn’t say anything he laughed harder. His hand snaked out faster than I could pull away. He gripped the nape of my neck and pressed his forehead to mine. His skin felt loose and cold. It felt undeniably wrong. His dead eyes stared into mine. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, or blink, or move, or scream. I couldn’t do anything. I was at his mercy, and I knew he had so little of it. 

“I said ask me!” He screamed at me and pressed his forehead harder into mine. 

“H-How d-did you g-get those c-cuts, sir?” I asked, unable to keep my voice from trembling. 

The creature released me. I had to fight the urge to turn around and run away. How could my father leave me alone with this man? He had to know I wasn’t safe. I knew he didn’t care about me, but I thought he would want to at least keep his golden goose alive. 

“The Bat gave me these cuts! He and I, we have a repertoire you see. We enjoy playing cat and mouse. And you see little girl, we like to play rough. It was my turn to be a mouse! Gotta keep the relationship fresh! Would you like to be the mouse or the cat?” 

The question felt like a trap. If I answered mouse he would treat me like prey. If I answered cat he would demand I perform violence to prove myself as a predator. The longer I took thinking about it, the more impatient and angry he got. 

“Neither,” I answered honestly. I willed my tired body to heal him faster. 

“Ah ah,” he tsked, reprimanding me, “that is not part of the game. Pick one.”

I have played mouse my whole life. I was sick of being weak. I was sick of being used. 

“I’d want to be a fucking dragon. Not a cat. Not a mouse. I want to breathe fire so I can tell men like you to fuck off and leave me alone. I want men like you to be scared of me,” the words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them. 

The Joker tilted his head like he was seeing me for the first time. He smiled at me and began laughing so hard he wheezed. 

“You have a lot of work to do then, little mouse.”

With that, the clown got up and left. The second he was out of the room it felt like I could breathe again. I swallowed hard. 

Tonight was the night. I couldn’t do it anymore. Despite everything the Joker was the one to finally spur me into action.

I ran to my room and lifted up my loose floorboard. I grabbed the cash I had stolen from the safe. I grabbed my go bag. And I ran. 

Gotham City: Present Day

I told Bruce everything. I told him every minute detail. I told him about my mom, my dad, and everything that happened in my life. 

“So, to answer your questions: I don’t know how many there have been, but it has been a lot. And no, I vowed the day that I ran away that I wouldn’t heal another villain again. And that I would never be– I will never be a pawn for someone else.” I would never be a mouse again.

Bruce stood quickly and moved around his desk. He stood before me large and brooding, and then he knelt. 

“I am so sorry, Y/N. You don’t deserve what has happened to you,” his dark voice became surprisingly soft. “And I am sorry for doubting you.”

I felt my eyes start to burn, and I roughly blinked to rid myself of the potential tears. 

“Does this mean I still have a job here?” I laughed weakly. 

“Yes. I value honesty and loyalty above all else.”

I nodded and rose on shaky legs. I left the room without another word. 

I took the elevator down to the Batcave. My nerves felt frayed and split open after reliving my past with Bruce. I needed a distraction. I needed to hit something. 

The elevator doors split open and revealed that I was not the only one who wanted to get a workout in. Dick and Jason stood in the middle of the training mat. Both were shirtless and sweating as they swung fists at each other. For a moment, all I could do was watch like a wide-eyed pervert. 

Jason’s body was riddled with a myriad of scars. I saw evidence of burns, lacerations, gunshots, and of course… the autopsy scar. Dick also had his fair share of scars but it was about ¼ the amount that Jason had. 

Dick had the body of a gymnast. His muscles were lean and lithe. He was built for fluidity and speed just as much as strength. 

Jason was built like a fucking brick house. His shoulders were impossibly broad, and every inch he was covered in thick roped muscle. His physique looked like he had been carved from marble. He was unforgivingly hard and defined. I couldn’t help myself as I stared longer. Despite his size, he kept up with Grayson. For every punch or kick Dick threw at him Jason ducked or blocked accordingly. When he moved to hit back he put his whole body behind the punch. I could see it in the way his thick thighs and hips rotated.  

Jason landed a particularly hard hit on Dick’s shoulder. Dick winced and held up a hand. 

“First: owe that hurt, jackass. Second: I want a break,” Dick said in a sassy tone that made me snort. 

Instantly, both of the men swiveled their heads toward me. I tried pretending like I wasn’t watching them, but something in the gleam of their eyes told me they knew it… and maybe liked it.

Jason smiled at me so brightly that it made my heart clench. 

“Hey, you. Where did you go?” He asked. 

I approached both the boys, “I had to have a meeting with my boss.”

Dick winced, Jason straightened up. “What did the old bastard want?” Jason asked. 

“Information, as per usual,” I replied. It was hard to focus. Jason was dripping in sweat. A bead had run from his forehead, down his face, and ran over his Adam’s apple. I had to force my eyes back up, so I wouldn’t watch it trail lower. 

Jason smirked at me and took a step forward, “Are you ogling me, Y/L/N?”

I could feel my cheeks heat, “Not at all, Todd. I’m just taking in the physical condition of one of my clients.”

Jason laughed, and leaned forward, “Such a good little nurse, aren’t we?”

I rolled my eyes, “Don’t worry I assessed Grayson just as thoroughly.”

Jason’s eyes darkened slightly, “Oh, I doubt that–”

“Okay well, I feel like an awkward third wheel. I’ll leave you guys to it,” Dick said, as he practically ran into the elevator. Before I could rebut his claim the doors were already shut. 

I returned my focus back to Jason and I saw his eyes trail the burn on my cheek and the bruises on my throat. His demeanor completely changed. He became ramrod straight. Every muscle in his body was tense. Even a muscle in his jaw tightened. 

He ran a finger parallel to the burn, “How are you feeling?”

Like I got my ass kicked, “Fine.”

“Be honest,” he practically growled out. 

“Sore,” that was an understatement but I didn’t feel like voicing my pain. Every time I did that with my father he would just tell me to suck it up and stop being a complainer. 

“You’re more than sore. I know you are.”

I shrugged and that seemed to anger him more. I ignored it and redirected the topic. 

“Spar with me?” It was more of a demand than a question.

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If I missed anyone please let me know <3

Author's note: You guys are so slay, ily all <3 Thank you all so much for your kind words, comments, messages, and interactions!! They inspire me to keep writing. I hope you guys continue to enjoy the story, thank you again <3

Hashbrown Cam!

[zozowrites]

The Game (Fancy Pants part 2)

Paige Bueckers x actress!fem!oc Ava Radmall

Words: 4.5k

TW: religious services (church)

A/N: so I originally meant for this to be a little filler chapter buttttt ended up putting two together and adding my version of plot (there won't be too too much in this series, I'm doing my best tho).

Ava

It’s raining when I go to pick up my mom from the airport. I get out of my spunky little blue car to hug her hello and put her bag in the trunk. Then we stop at Whole Foods for the list of foods she needs to buy (which I tried to buy ahead of time but she insisted we go together, apparently it doesn’t “feel the same if she doesn’t look at it first”). 

In the parking lot I ask her to stop and turn around and catch her in such an aesthetic picture where she’s holding a bag under each arm bundled in her bright red raincoat with a slight rainbow in the background. I post it to my Instagram story and caption it “Mama and me <3” 

We get back to my place and start to put the food away when I get a text from an unknown number. 

I can’t help but smile slightly at the fact she’s texting me. 

Hey ava it's paige

cam gave me ur number hope it's cool

Hi Paige

It's cool dw

ok phew

how long is ur mom in town?

Until Jan 3, why?

does she like the lakers?

Are you wanting to take my mom on a date to a lakers game?

no no chill

she's pretty tho

Thanks??

lemme try again

does ur mom like the warriors AND CAM

I guess, why

do you have nye plans

Probably not, why

ok im getting cam lakers tickets for us for her bday

if you guys wanna join

Well you could've just said that, silly

well it was more fun this way, silly

At that I put my phone face down on the island to find my mom staring at me from across the counter, eyebrows raised. 

“Who ya texting?” She asks, always one for hot goss. Or prying questions. 

“Just a friend.” I answer, but I know I’m not controlling the upturn of my lips of blush of my cheeks very well. Yes I’m an actor but this is my mom, the woman who single-handedly raised me. 

“Okaaaaaay,” She extends the word and turns back to re-organizing the contents of my fridge, probably knowing that this is the move that never fails.

“I met Paige Bueckers at Cam’s Christmas party and she just asked if we want to go to a Laker's game for Cam’s birthday with them on New Year’s Eve.” I spill the beans. After being met with her silence, I add, “I think we’re gonna be friends!”

“And what did you say?” My mom asks, not turning away from the egg shelf she was inspecting. 

I slip into one of the stools at the hightop counter, swinging my feet in the air. “I said I’d get back to her. Do you want to go?” 

“I love CamCam, of course I’ll go. If she’ll be alright with me there, of course.” 

“Oh don’t even pretend, we both know she likes you more than me.” 

She sets down the butter that she’d moved on to and comes to stand behind me, running her hands up and down the sides of my arms. 

“I’m sorry sweetie,”

“No you’re not.”

“Yeah, no I’m not.” She says and laughs. 

My doorbell rings at 6:30 pm on Christmas Eve and I open it to find Ellie, my neighbor, just as expected. The twelve year old smiles at me as I let her in and wave to her mom, driving off to her shift at the hospital. 

We do our secret handshake (three fish slaps back and forth before a faked out high five) and she asks if my mom is here yet. When I tell her yes, she drops her backpack at my feet and bounds up the stairs from my entryway to the open-concept living space. 

“Sarah!!” I hear her shout before I can hear the impact of her jumping into my mom’s arms. I sigh to myself with a smile and bring the backpack up the stairs to place in her guest bedroom. 

I met Ellie and her mom Jules when I first moved in two years ago and got really close with them. Ellie walked my dog Frankie on my long set days and I watched Ellie during the summer on my off days and she slept at my house when her mom was working night shift. Like on Christmas Eve. Only last year when my mom visited for Christmas did we discover that we actually share the same runaway dad. It was an interesting Christmas morning to say the least. 

“Are we ready to commence the second annual Great Christmas Competition?” My mom asks, putting on her low rumbly announcer voice. Ellie squeals, already set up at my dining room table. 

We pull out hot glue guns and our bags of candy and graham crackers and start building our gingerbread houses. My mom finishes way before our half hour timer is up, so she takes a spoon to the pink icing tub, dying her mouth a brighter color. Then we move onto cookie decorations, where she’s more interested in eating the cookies than decorating them. Through both heats, Ellie is so focused she doesn’t say a word. And she wins, of course. We wouldn’t just let her win, but she’s a creative genius. Even if she wasn’t a kid she would still be winning. 

Then we move on to reindeer races (I win), Christmas karaoke (my mom wins), and snowman making (Ellie wins). Since she wins the tournament, she gets to pick the movie to cap off the night, and we settle on the couch to watch Elf. 

Around halfway through I pull my phone out to text Paige. 

What's your Venmo and how much for the tickets?

Her response is immediate. For some reason, that makes me smile.

don't even think about venmoing me bc i'll just send it right back

Don't make me go ask Cam

don't do that either I'm deadass

20 bucks says I can guess it right on the first try and if not you'll tell me

I don't think you understand how bets work

They way I see it it's a win win

uh yeah for u

What, you don't want me to win?

not if it means I lose, no

Don't make me write you a check

I'm not gonna honor that with a response

I put my phone away and try to refocus on the movie when Ellie leans on my shoulder, her soft brown hair falling into my lap. 

Christmas morning comes and goes. I spend it with my mom and Ellie, and Jules brings over Ellie’s presents from Santa when she gets back from her shift. She sleeps on the couch as my mom and I make breakfast, or she sleeps as much as she can before Ellie comes running in. 

Later in the day my mom finds a church service for us to attend, because apparently my five o’clock Episcopalian service wasn’t good enough for her. The church is small and charming, the service taking place in a gym of an old school that was turned into a community center. The congregation is very friendly and I spend half the time making faces at the baby in front of me. 

The next Sunday we return to the church for a regular service, and to my surprise, I spot a certain blonde in a middle row. I walk my mom towards her, and she turns and seems to have a similar look of surprise on her face. 

“These seats taken?” I ask. She shakes her head with a smile. 

“All yours.”

I introduce her to my mom and she shakes her hand, very formal. TikTok isn’t wrong, she definitely has good rizz. During the community time she’s asking us about our holiday and how my mom is liking LA right now. She brings up the Lakers game. 

“I’m assuming you know Cam since she roomed with Ava in college, right?” Paige asks. 

“Oh, do I know Cam. I adore Cam. She used to come on vacation with us sometimes.” 

“We always joke that Cam likes my mom more than she likes me.” I say and pretend to pout. Then the community time ends, and we move on to the sermon. 

After the service ends we help stack up the chairs and push them to the side. 

“This is only our second time here, do you know any good brunch spots around?” I ask Paige as we descend the stairs to the exit. She tells us about a bookstore cafe around the corner, and my mom insists she join us. 

Fifteen minutes later, we settle into our seats and the navy blue bookshelves behind Paige perfectly compliment her slick back blonde bun. I’m sitting across from her at the table, and I let my eyes travel down from the bun to the slope of her purple cardigan over her shoulders, crisp white t-shirt underneath a great contrast. On our walk here I had to really focus on keeping my eyes away from the way her legs looked so juicy in her simple black pants. 

I finally rip my gaze away from her to look at the menu. Then I look to my mom, who was watching Paige through her menu. I resist the urge to look back at Paige, because I can already feel her eyes on me. It makes heat rise throughout my body, and I untuck the hair from behind my ears to shield my neck, which I can feel is probably blushing.

Thankfully the waiter arrives, and we order our food. Then we resume being normal human beings, and partake in normal conversation. How Paige is doing on the team. The press tour I’m about to start and the next round of auditions. What my mom does as an elementary school art teacher. We discuss Cam a good bit, and her impending nuptials. 

When our food arrives we play roulette, where we rotate the dishes through the three of us at random. Thankfully, Paige is understanding of my mom’s shenanigans. I excuse myself halfway through under the guise of using the restroom, but really I find the waitress and cover the bill. My Asian dad may not have stuck around or been a decent guy, but there’s some things that may just be nature. 

I come back to my mom and Paige chatting, and apparently she was telling Paige an embarrassing story of me from childhood. Just great. 

“Yeah she like didn’t talk until she was like four. But she would point. Her two words were ‘puppy’ and ‘soccer.’” My mom tells her and Paige smiles. 

“Aw that’s so cute, my younger brother Drew did that too,” Paige responded. I pulled out my chair to sit back down with a squeak. “My step-mom always claimed that it was because Drew had me to interpret for him so he didn’t need to talk since I was fluent in Drew.” 

It makes my mom laugh which makes me smile. Paige is good.

Our waitress comes back and my mom asks for the check, so she lets us know it has “already been taken care of.” 

My mom fake scowls at me, and Paige gives me a look I can’t quite decipher. 

Paige 

I open my phone to call Azzi, but for some reason my fingers hover over Ava’s contact instead. 

u didn't have to do that u know

Do what?

buy brunch

I think the words you're looking for are "Thank you, Ava"

Thank you, Ava

You're welcome, Paige

The way she texted my name had the same effect on me as her actually saying it. I can see the way her lips wrap around the P of my name in my head. I need to send something to change the mood.

ur mom is cool

Ok ew don't text me that

I don’t know what to say because “sorry” doesn’t sound quite right. I’m not sorry. I do think Ava’s mom is cool. And pretty. I know where Ava gets her beauty from. 

Turning the the other side of the couch I had flopped down on five minutes ago, I pick up Aziz’s call instead of trying to craft a lackluster response to Ava.

“Yo, what’s up?” I ask her. 

“Please tell me you don’t answer the phone like that with other people.” She sighs in response. 

“This is just for you, Az.” I chirp in response. “But seriously, what’s been going on with you? How’s Dallas?” 

“Eh, Dallas is Dallas, like always.” She says. “Practice is practice. Life is life.” 

“Well you don’t sound very enthused,” I noted. “What’s going on.” 

She sighed, even longer this time. “Just worrying about my offseason training, nothing new. I want to hear about what’s been going on with you. How was Cam’s party?” 

I almost don’t want to answer about the party, because I know that means bringing up Ava, and for some reason there’s a part of me that wants to keep her to myself. Like she’s too special to share. 

But that’s ridiculous. I shake my head and answer her truthfully. 

“Wait what!?” Her gentle voice somehow screeches through my phone speaker, and I place her on my living room table so I can stretch my arms over my head. 

I let myself laugh along with her. I know. It’s almost ridiculous. I’m crushing on a movie star. Who’s also smart and pretty and athletic. Who I have no idea if she likes me back. 

Azzi sighs yet again. I make a mental note to wear her down until she tells me what’s really going on. Because I know something is. She’s my best friend. 

“I have to go,” She says. She sounds miserable. “I miss you. I love you!”

“Love and miss you too, Az.” I say and she hangs up. I turn onto my back and close my eyes, letting the silence of my apartment envelope me. 

I knock on what I hope is the front door of Ava’s townhouse. It’s white and modern. She has a nice yard and a single potted plant by her door. There’s a pumpkin on the step and I’m scared of how long it’s been there. 

The knock earns me no response, so I ring the doorbell. I hear it reverberate through her house, and then an indecipherable shout and heavy thudding footsteps of someone running down stairs before the door is thrust open so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t hit the wall next to it. 

A very frazzled Ava greets me, followed by the most adorable black Scottish terrier I’ve ever laid my eyes on scurrying behind her. I could never have imagined something could upstage Ava, but her dog definitely does.

I crouch down to pet the dog and it props its two front legs up on my knee, licking my ear. I don’t mind, and Ava seems too distracted to tell them to get down. 

“Her name is Frankie,” She says, a fond smile flitting across her face. Her hair is half curled, and she appears to be wearing a full face of makeup with bare lips. “She really likes you, you know.” 

Everything about this moment makes me smile. The way Ava looks effortlessly beautiful in her half-ready state. It feels too intimate for me to witness. I’m filled with an overwhelming amount of pride that her dog likes me. 

“You look nice,” I offer, truthfully. It slips out. I didn’t mean to say anything too forward in my flirting or cross weird lines or make any moves or confusion. Yes, it’s hard when you compliment a (bitchy) straight girl when she knows you’re gay, but personally it has always been harder for me to compliment my also lesbian female friends. Weirdly, I’m not worried about how she’s interpreting it, but rather aim to stick the thought process in my mind to analyze later. How did I intend it? 

Luckily, she just scoffs. 

“Yeah, whatever, if you say so Paige. You look good.” 

It makes me smile against myself. 

“Thanks. But I mean it, you know?”

“I am obviously running behind,” She says, gesturing frantically with her hands. Another female voice calls for her from up the stairs, who I’m pretty sure is her mom. But now I’m concerned why the thought of it not being her mom is making me slightly jealous. Shit. I’m done for. 

A red leash with pink hearts and a purple collar is placed into my hands as I stand. 

“Do you mind walking Frankie quickly before we leave? I haven’t done it yet and I need to help my mom with something.” She makes a face when she says “something” that indicates she doesn’t really know what her mom called her for. “Usually just up and down the street is enough to get her to go, and there’s bags on the leash.” 

I snap the collar onto Frankie as she thanks me profusely before trotting back up the stairs. 

“Guess it’s just you and me, kid.” I say and lead her out the door. She lets out a huff of air. 

I walk her up and down the block, Frankie trotting perfectly next to me. Of course a perfect woman like Ava has a perfectly leash trained dog. I walk her to the end of the street and back, trying to let all of my fast-paced thoughts go. 

Seeing Ava like that felt like she was letting me in to a private part of her, for some weird reason. She doesn’t seem to me like the type of woman to pressure herself to always be put together, but I guess whenever I see her she is. She’s secure in those moments and she’s secure when I knock five minutes too early on her door. 

Frankie and I make it back to Ava’s small front yard, and she gracefully stops in the grass to go to the bathroom. I grab it with a bag, not even surprised anymore about how perfect the dog is. 

I open the door and wipe her paws and butt with a wipe from the pack decorated with paw prints on the shelf. Then I unclip the leash and hang it up, but stop, unsure of what to do next. Was it weird I let myself into her house? Probably not any weirder than walking her dog, right? 

Thankfully I don’t have to think on it too long because she bounds down the stairs with her mom, and we’re off. 

At the game we slide into our seats, Cam’s fiancé on the end and then her, Ava’s mom (since the two of them haven’t stopped talking since we picked up Cam), followed by Ava, and then me. 

There’s a good amount of time before the game starts and Ava’s mom is still completely immersed in conversation with Cam. Which means lucky me gets to talk to Ava. 

I turn to her, a plan forming in my mind. 

“So tell me more,” I try to prompt her, and she turns to me from where she was staring off at the court, seemingly tracking the players warming up. 

“Huh? What do you mean?” She says, her eyebrows creasing in confusion.

“Tell me more,” I say to her again. I struggle to hide a small smile fighting its way onto my face. 

“I wasn’t saying anything, Paige.” By the way she says my name she sounds slightly displeased and it worries me, before I look her in the eyes, trained on mine already, and see the mischief gleaming behind them. 

“Tell me more about yourself, Ava. So far I know you were Cam’s roommate, you went to Stanford, you played soccer. Midfield.” I echo the way she told me at the bar in Cam's yard that night. I see a smile creep onto her face, and my heart hopes it’s at the memory. “Your go to drink is a Shirley temple, you’re a Christian but once struggled with your faith, you’re gay,” I lean in towards her and whisper for the last one, before returning to normal. “You sleep like a rock, you’re gorgeous when you just wake up,” I pause, counting them all on my fingers. Maybe I’ll reach double digits at this rate. “You’re close with your mom, you like the Lakers-“ 

“So it seems like you know a lot about me already.” Ava cuts me off. Now it looks like she’s the one planning something. “What, specifically, would you like to know, Paige.” 

The perfect opening to hit her with a silly, small talk first date get to know you question. 

“Well, for starters, do you have any siblings?” I ask nonchalantly and shrug. 

Ava snorts out a laugh that she tries to cover with the back of her hand. 

“I have a sister. She actually lives next door to me. I only found out we were related a year after I moved in. She’s twelve.” Ava smiles so I smile back. Oh my, would I like to meet her sister. But oh my, would I like to kiss that smile more. 

I shake the thought out of my head. Ava keeps talking, almost lighting up as she describes Ellie, her sister, and discusses her hobbies and interests, and the adventures she’s gotten to take her on at length. I really hit the jackpot with this question. 

“I mean, technically she’s just my half sister, but-“ 

Now it’s my turn to cut her off. “It’s not different, I get it.” 

“I don’t have a full sibling so I wouldn’t know how to compare.” 

“With Drew my younger brother, he’s everything. We only share a dad, but we also share a soul, I just know.” 

This makes her smile. She gets it. More importantly, she knows that I get it.

The lights lower and a loud rumbling voice begins to announce the happenings as players begin to run out from the tunnel. It pulls us from our conversation and we clap. I realize that we were practically turned in our seats to face each other because I have to turn back. 

A few minutes in to the second quarter, I stand and declare it’s time for hot dogs. I turn to walk out of our row and Ava follows, claiming she’s getting up to “lend me a hand.” 

As we wait in line, only a few people in front of us, she speaks and I have to forcefully drag my eyes away from the place they had been resting, looking at her perfect hands clad in dainty gold rings, perched over her stomach as she uses her left hand to twist the one on her right ring finger around and around and around. 

“Ok my turn. But I’m not letting you off the hook with ‘do you have any siblings?’” She quotes me using a horrible frat boy impression. 

I look up at her through my eyelashes, a smirk on my mouth. I quirk my eyebrows. “Is that really what you think of me?” 

“Oh, you think I think about you?” she says smirking back. Flirting back! It brings the butterflies in my stomach into full torment mode. I will be remembering this moment for forever. 

I open my mouth to say something but she lets out a huff of air instead and squares her shoulders. We’re moving on. 

“Why basketball? I’m sure you played other sports as a kid, so, why basketball?” 

I take a second to contemplate, gathering my thoughts before answering so I can be as sincere as Ava deserves. 

“It’s the only place I felt at home. The flow state. It still takes hard work but it’s the only sport that just felt right. That just clicked.” I answer. Even though she looks like she’s listening, Ava doesn’t say anything in response. I take a deep breath and keep going. She knows I have more I could say, I guess. “It’s also what I clung to when my parents divorced. They told me during soccer season, so soccer was ruined for me. Then I had basketball to look forward to, basketball to focus on, basketball that wasn’t going to change. Basketball that I couldn’t ruin.” 

The moment is heavy. Ava’s gorgeous brown eyes look into mine and I’m almost surprised when I see understanding instead of pity. 

“Paige,” She says, placing a gentle, warm hand on my elbow. That’s her only response. Just one word. One simple touch. But she’s with it she's saying everything. She gets me and basketball just as much as I got her and Ellie. 

We’re called up to the counter and order the hot dogs. She tacks on a few baskets of fries. When the screen tells us to pay she quite literally elbows me out of the way and uses her card as I’m reaching out for my own.

For a reason I wished I regret knowing, I don’t move farther back, and instead relish the brush of her hair against my shoulder, the scent of orange and vanilla lingering in the air now, and the sweep of her hip against the very top of my thighs as she grabs half of the food and turns back to head towards our seats. 

The game is interesting, and Ava and I ease into a steady rhythm of trading quips or comments back and forth. I’m funny and she’s funny. A match made in heaven, I think to myself. Maybe I should stop thinking to myself. 

At some point Ava’s mom stands up and announces she’s going to the bathroom. Her brown hair is wavy in the same way Ava’s is, but shorter. It looks just as soft and I catch myself wondering if it smells like Ava’s vanilla and orange. 

“Which way is it, Paige?” Her mom asks me. I’m a little stunned why she would be asking me that until I realize it’s so that I come with her. Obviously she can find a bathroom by herself.

“Oh um let me show you,” I say and stand up from my seat, following Sarah out of the row. 

When we’re out in the hallway I keep up the gesture of showing her where the bathroom is and point simply across the hall. I mumble a few nondescript words about it being “over there” since I’m really just waiting for her to say something.

“Thanks, Paige.” She says but doesn’t turn away. “So you and Ava.”

Her words hang in the air, turning the space around us thick. What about me and Ava? We’re friends? Can she see I’m flirting with her daughter? Does she want me to stop flirting with her daughter?

Suddenly she cracks a grin and lets loose a laugh so compelling that I just have to laugh with her. She reaches for my elbow just like her daughter did half an hour ago. 

“I’m not grilling you at all, sweetie, sorry I just thought it would be fun to see you sweat.” She smiles to herself, her plan having obviously worked. “Anyways I was just going to tell you that she likes you. She’s probably just beginning to realize it now, but I know she does. I think you like her too since you haven’t stopped flirting with her ever, even in my presence.”

This makes me blush. Which, in turn, makes Sarah smile more. 

“Just a word of warning, honey. You have to be really patient with her. If you act too soon you will scare her off, and I would really hate to see that. You two will be so good together. I suggest you wait for her to make the first move when she’s ready.” 

I nod, taking this all in. Her mom thinks? Knows? That she likes me. And that I like her. And she wants us to get together. But from the sounds of it I need to wait for her to make the first move. Huh. 

“And I know I cannot just ask you to wait or something. I’m trying not to ask anything of you, but rather tell you what I see in Ava. The flirting is good for her. Please don’t think I’m telling you to stop. I’m gonna work on her from my end, see what I can do.” 

I don’t know what to say but Ava’s mom seems to know even that too. 

“I’m almost sorry for dropping this on you. I’m gonna hit the bathroom, maybe consider a walk if you don’t want to return yet.” She says with a warm smile and I nod in response, turning to go for a short walk.