#after a night sleep I finally feel like this post needs a bit editing

[kafkaoftherubble]

芥见下下你这熊孩子，这星期葫芦里卖的到底是什么药？！ 

Note: MANGA SPOILER for JUJUTSU KAISEN. The length of this ramble should also spot a warning. 

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Two things happened this week within the same damn hour on that very storied Wednesday.  

One, my Tumblr account got terminated for no fucking reason. It just happened. Shits that had been on it--saved for those archived by reblogs--were gone. One could almost say my blog got an off-screen death.  

Two, Gojo Satoru got terminated, not for no-fucking-reason, but done in such a contrived way it was bordering on a colonoscopy procedure. All the build-ups from previous chapters seem to be for nothing. One could definitely say it's an off-screen death.  

Now that I'm making a new account (because I really need an outlet for my garrulous ass; I think the people in my physical vicinity are getting sick of me), the first entry in this new garden is gonna be about my opinion on Chapter 236, based on the unofficial fan-translated chapter.  

Look, I get it. Satoru needs to be taken out one way or another so that the rest of the cast, especially Yuji, "has something to do." I completely support having Satoru out of the game for the good of the story and its characters, and yes, death is one of the ways to take him out... and many other ways, you know? Fatigue. Grievous injuries. Complete Curse Energy exhaustion. Side-effects of his risky plays. Gets suckerpunched by Yorozu's gift. Suckerpunched by Sukuna's hidden technique(s). Kenjaku's intervention. Completion of the merger ("Ahaha! That battle was me using Sukuna to stall your time, after all, Gojo Satoru!" said Kenjaku calmly). The ways to do it are just so, so plenty.  

And even if death is the one you want, there are many ways to execute it. Begin Round 3 of the battle and have Sukuna deliver pressure to Satoru again. Show Sukuna gradually testing out his new epiphany once or twice while masking it with his "real techniques" (there isn't any real indication that Cleave and Dismantle are not his "real" techniques; his possessing other techniques aside from those two is a very reasonable bet though). At the same time, Satoru realizes this is some new and very dangerous shit he might not have any counter for. Have Satoru scrambling for a new plan to counter Sukuna's "real techniques" or even Yorozu's gift. Then, at that moment, POW! Sucker-punch Satoru with a successful execution of Nuh-Uh Take This Space-Slicing Cut, Bitch! technique. 

You can even slice him on his waist again! "I didn't know I would be successful this time, or I would have aimed for the head!" said Sukuna calmly.  

That was just me cooking... And I can't cook shit. I suck at it. But if there's any meager understanding I have regarding story-writing, it's this: you do not show a guy as "the strongest," with quick reflexes and thinking, incredible battle intelligence and creativity, and a purpose larger than himself--just to unceremoniously kill him off-screen and regal us with an "afterlife" dream that is also riddled with unsatisfaction (more on that later), and then tell us "yep no Sukuna is better all along."

You don't create a character shown with a plethora of jujutsu tour de force, who has an important connection to many of its characters and events, plus an outsized, established significance to the setting of your story like "modern jujutsu society's honored one" and "his birth forced the world to change"... just to execute his end like he was a side-character who has a day in the limelight for a fight that is ultimately "just filler," because not much has been achieved after all. 

.-. . … -

Many have already pointed out the power-scaling issues. There's this glaring problem of how Sukuna—greatly weakened and significantly punished—managed to one-shot Satoru, whose stats were basically refreshed from his consecutive Black Flash + possessing an insane ocular gift in the form of the Six Eyes.

If Sukuna's coup de grace was a fucking reality cut (he would have cut our manga pages and bitch-slap us if he could) such that not even the space-manipulating ability of Neutral Limitless could win, then how is anyone else going to do anything? How are they gonna jujutsu their kaisen?

Previously, we could at least point to Sukuna being significantly weakened by Satoru as a boon for the rest of the cast. Perhaps the only way to win this is a battle of attrition, gradually wearing Sukuna down or even forcing him to reveal his cards until it was Yuji who faced him. But how can "a weakened Sukuna" even be a gained advantage, if Sukuna still managed to kill Satoru (with refreshed stats!) in that very state? It means Nuh-Uh Take This Space-Slicing Cut, Bitch! technique is neither dependent on Sukuna's stats nor Sukuna's bodily fatigue. It means a 6 Eyes user as adept as Satoru can't even avoid that cut. It means even with refreshed stats and displayed insane reflexes, Satoru couldn't dodge this shit.

This isn't just OP—it's story-breaking.  

Side note: Yes, its OPness is comparable to Neutral Limitless, where no one can get close to Satoru physically. The thing that marks the difference, though, is that pre-awakened Satoru could get progressively worn out when he activated it without rest. Post-awakened Satoru no longer suffers from that because he learned how to keep his brain fresh with Reversed Curse Technique, 24/7. That's a gained skill and one he practiced after his awakening (albeit the manga did not show us a training montage). Sukuna's Nuh-Uh Take This Space-Slicing Cut, Bitch! existed between Chapter 235 and Chapter 236. The next time we come back to the fight, he's already executed it successfully and killed Satoru off-screen.

.-. . … -

Oh, but power-scaling isn't the one I wanted to talk about the most. All the other brains who give a damn about these things have articulated and explained their puzzlement and displeasure in more clarity and detail than I could ever, and I'm sure more are to come unless Gege's next chapter retroactively makes CH236 make sense (I'm doubtful on this one; Kashimo is already flying in for the fight).

The one I want to talk about is how this poor execution has fumbled the character—this specific dissatisfaction is less addressed at the time of this writing.  

.-. . … -

I didn't like Gojo at first. I thought he was as shallow and cocky as the memes made him out to be. I thought he was beloved because he's gorgeous, has a VA with known fanbase, and he's the OP motherfucker setting the ceiling. I love watching people simp for him because it's fun, but I thought he just wasn't someone I wanted to pay attention to. I gleefully partook in Gojo Slanders, especially since I always thought it's fun to riff on characters who are cocky as fuck.  

What changed my perception was two things:  

I rewatched JJK with my non-anime-watching best friend this March. She needed someone to explain things to her (since she has no prior anime knowledge and trope to help her, and JJK can be a bit hard to get sometimes), so I did. As I explained, I noticed and understood more about the story and Gojo himself, and my tone likely changed without my own awareness. It was noticeable enough that she asked, nonplussed, "Why the hell do you hate Gojo so much? You two share similar beliefs and even some traits!" 

Satoru vs Sukuna in the manga. I got into the manga side once I heard he's been released from the Prison Realm; I was soon treated with THIS. And Satoru was just... amazing. The things he pulled off were so cool and shrewd and clever and fun, that it didn't matter when Gege sometimes fumbled and Picasso'd his good looks--he just looked better and better in my eyes. 

Both these things combined made me look at him differently. I started reading up on his character analyses—which delighted me because there are so many Gojo analysts out there—and everything I know about him just made me like him more. Just like that, he became my favorite character in JJK, overtaking even Yuta and Nobara and Megumi and Yuji.

I've become completely invested in this motherfucker's character arc and the themes he represented. Most of all, though, I adore him the most when he's acting human. I have a glaring weakness against the Human Alien (the other white-haired character very high on my adoration meter would be To Your Eternity's Fushi), especially when their humanity is one of the focal points.

This means CH236 should have appealed to me. And it really could have. Satoru is being human! He's being vulnerable to his friends! He's even deprecating himself, which is (reasonably) decried as a massive case of OOC—and yet I didn't hate that at all. I always suspect that Satoru is wiser than he pretends to be and that he knows himself better than we were let on. He's cocky because he knows himself that well--and because he knows himself that well, he's secretly not cocky. He knows he always loses at the most important battles. He knows his strength doesn't translate to his goals being met, or his things going his way.

I think Satoru tries to do things he's not expected to do—teach as an educator; save folks, be it sorcerers or normies; protect the weak (one example: look at what he did prior to being sealed. Glorious!); try to be a reformist instead of just leading a coup; tries not to kill anyone who disagrees with him (he let those higher-ups live for quite a while)—because all the things he went through allowed him to know himself, including how little him being good at fighting can achieve. If he doesn't, then he really had no reason to do anything other than fight for the kick of it, right? He would have believed he could achieve anything via pure strength. So him doubting himself? I find it believable. It's nice to see Satoru finally letting his hair down and freely admitting this. It's... well, endearing. Cute, even. /...slaps my own face 

Him doubting himself after all the demonstrated feats against Sukuna?!  Get the fuck out of here. The fuck is he saying?! Sukuna was the one under pressure the moment they both lost the ability to perform Domain Expansion. Sure, he was banking on Ten Shadows to help him and so he employed risky tactics. Doesn't negate Satoru's tour de force in the slightest, though!

Had it been written more like an uphill battle—instead of Satoru delivering Sukuna's ass so hard the dude had to be denigrated into King of Frauds with Malefunctioning Shrine who repeats the "Mahoraga come oonnnnnnnnn!" tactic for weeks—then few of us other than the most stubborn stans would dispute Satoru for saying something like this. But that wasn't the case. Satoru's "voltage kept rising" even when he felt nervous at one point. If Sukuna had been holding back, and that was why he was so constantly on the verge of defeat, then all it really means is that these two really were equal. NOT one of them being "weaker" than the other. Why would someone who's shown to be enlightened on both his strengths and weaknesses, and is known for being a good judge of character and skills, suddenly be this wrong?

.-. . … -

Then there's the implication, mentioned by Haibara, that Satoru never had any loftier goal than to fight for kicks. Nani the fuck is that?! If that's really all he wanted, then man really went all that unnecessary steps just to do the simplest shit. The fuck is he wasting his time as a teacher? Why did he give a damn about saving normal folks back in Shibuya, instead of just going Unlimited Void and killing all of them, cursed spirits, transfigured humans, and normal people alike? Why did he set his duel with Sukuna at a later date and follow that schedule, instead of, you know—jumping at him right away when Sukuna was only at 15 fingers' strength? Why the need for an unknown-but-months-long preparation?  

And of course, why did he call the Principal out in his "afterlife"? Because the latter once mentioned how jujutsu sorcerers all die with regrets? Is Satoru implying that he had no regrets? 'Cause I find it hard to buy.

Is the failure to save Megumi, your adopted son in all but name, NOT a regret?

Is the inability to properly bury Suguru and mourn him NOT a regret?

Is the inability to witness your students becoming stronger and better-than-the-old NOT a regret?

Is the inability to see a reformed jujutsu society—or a world—that has drastically progressed beyond the shadow of the traditionalist and conservative establishment, NOT a regret?

Is the fact that you're leaving an unbeatable monster, who now learned how to cut reality (gee, thanks, Gojo sensei), in the world where your students and surviving colleagues + friends are, NOT a regret? 

你满足个锤子啊你 What's there to be satisfied about？！

The reason why I couldn't love the afterlife fluff, despite how appealing Satoru's humanization is to me, is because so many little things in it go against what I know about this character and his progress. What is being said is clashing with what has been shown to us. I just can't wrap my head around it. Suddenly all of those things I thought I knew were wrong or didn't matter. I suddenly find many of the story beats and themes JJK presents transfigured, and I no longer recognize or understand what's being explored here.

Have I been admiring a Gojo Satoru that never existed? Or is CH236's Gojo Satoru the pretender? Is this the sort of effect Mahito's transfiguration inspires in his victims? Because I think I know how it feels now.  

--- 

If I were allowed to cook...

Yuki's dream comes to fruition, and Curse Energy is no more. Satoru's personal ending would be him losing all of his Cursed Energy and techniques along with everyone else. He can keep his eyes, but they sparkle no more.

He can no longer keep things and people at a distance from himself, but it also means that the gap between him and other people has never been smaller.  He has experienced being insufficient when it comes to fulfilling his goals, but now he experiences the actual weakness of being "a normal guy". What then is his strength? What will he be good at? Spinning pens? Becoming an idol? Does he already know what his strengths—apart from his now-gone-jujutsu—really are? Or is this the self-deprecating moment he's supposed to have? "Ya know, now that I'm not the strongest, maybe I've got nothin' after all. Heh!" 

And it will be up to us readers to judge if he's right.

...

......

...Well, good thing I'm not the cook, because I don't think I did a good job at all, haha! But hey! This isn't my job or my story. 

And that's why I'm not hating on Gege. 

Maybe the next chapter justifies this chapter. Maybe the future chapters retroactively make this chapter a step in the right direction. Maybe Satoru isn't even dead—maybe he's just temporarily taken out (oh, I've got a lot of copium). Maybe we're gonna witness another Satoru awakening, which I'll enjoy yes, but! Maybe it's Yuta's awakening! Or Yuji's awakening! Why wouldn't it be? These are two of the most selfless characters in JJK. And dude, these two awakenings will be so dope. Wouldn't it be cool if Yuta were the one who awakened so hard he healed his sensei from being 2.5jo Satoru back to 5jo Satoru? Wouldn't it be cool if Yuji awakened so hard that he... became the King of Black Flashes! 

And even if Gege did none of that and the whole story moved on from the death of Gojo like it's just another Wednesday or something, and even if JJK just kinda nosedive from there... It's still his story. He can fuck things up in the end and it still won't change the fact that he was the one who created Satoru and those characters we care a shit ton about. I had a lot of fun and brain farts from this series for years, which is even why CH236 is capable of making me feel genuinely disappointed. I'm pretty damn grateful that Gege created this story in the first place! 

But that is that, and this is this. I don't want to defend terrible execution in story-writing, and I don't want to rationalize shit as having more depth than it really is. I don't wanna partake in any "why this subversion of expectation is actually genius and you're just too stupid to get it" change-the-narrative campaign. I really don't like how it was executed. 

It's not that the character I like died. It's the way it happened.

Thank you for reading my ramble.  

[imaginespazzi]

Part 6: To Trying Again

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9

I don't wanna mess this thing up (I don't wanna push too far)

(In which an "evil" writer might surprise you guys just a little bit with this part)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff and Angst

Words: 5.6K

TW: Swearing (I think that's it?)

A/N: Happy Monday lovelies! This is sort of a filler-ish short chapter though I do think it's important to both plot and character development. I'd like to preface this by saying I've never been to Minsk or Park Pieramohi so I'm very much going off of pictures. Editing and I remain on very, very bad terms so pretty please let me know of typos so I can fix them. As always, let me know what you liked, what you disliked and what you'd like to see going forward. Have a lovely rest of your week my loves <3

July 2018 

“You’re being too loud,” Azzi whisper-screams at the blonde girl in front of her as she closes the door to her room behind her with a little too much force. 

Paige turns her head back every-so-slightly with a pronounced eye roll, “will you please relax.”

“I would if you’d just be a little more careful,” Azzi glares, taking cautious steps as if the sound of her sneakers across the carpeted floor could potentially wake up any of the coaches. 

“Azzi,” Paige says exasperatedly, “the coaches are all the way on the other end of the hallway. Besides, they're probably all sleeping.”

And despite her stubbornness, Azzi can concede that Paige has a point there. It’s nearly midnight and the game against Spain earlier in the day might have had a final score that made it seem like the USA U17 women's basketball team had won handily, but the game itself had been draining to say the least. The post-victory dinner had featured a bunch of worn out teenagers gobbling their food without much conversation and a cohort of coaches who seemed like they needed an hour of drinking followed by good night’s sleep. But even the exhaustion of the day hadn’t been enough to prevent Paige Bueckers and her diabolical mind from coming up with the idea to sneak out into the city of Minsk. 

“No,” Azzi had said immediately even before the words had been spoken, that shimmering glint in Paige’s eyes a dead giveaway as she sidled up to Azzi at the salad bar. 

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” Paige had pouted. 

“You never say anything good.”

“That’s crazy. You’re so mean to me.”

“So mean,” Azzi had nodded in agreement, “so how about you go and bother someone else.”

“Azzi please. We haven’t had just Paige and Azzi time in ages. Don’t want someone else. Just want you.”

And after that well, there wasn’t really any chance of saying no. Azzi’s only fifteen and she doesn’t know that much about love, but sometimes when Paige looks at her with those earnest blue eyes and a smile that promises i’ll always be here, she thinks the way her heart starts to flutter erratically to a beat of and i wouldn’t want anyone else to stay, might just be the start of her finding out. 

“See,” Paige grins triumphantly as the two girls find their way out of their hotel and onto the street, “told you we wouldn’t get caught. Shit’s just too damn easy.”

Azzi rolls her eyes at the attitude, “don’t tempt fate.”

“Fate’s got nothing in front of Paige Bueckers. I make my own fate,” Paige winks as she links her arms through Azzi. 

It’s a mundane amount of contact, absolutely nothing special to it, but Azzi feels herself shiver in spite of the humidity that’s circling around them. She doesn’t quite know how it happened. One moment she was staring across the court, judging the skinny blonde practicing free throws and coming to the conclusion that she’d be no threat; the next moment said girl was next to her on the plane back from Argentina and Azzi, a self-admitted introvert, found herself rattling off about everything and nothing with this girl who seemed to have discovered the keys to all of Azzi’s locks. Hours of talking had bled into days and days had bled into months and despite the fact that facetime had taken the place of in-person conversations, the word friendship had seemed too cavalier a word to describe the relationship Paige and Azzi were building. 

Paige had whittled away all of Azzi’s carefully constructed armor until she was buried deep underneath her skin and Azzi’s sure there’s no knife in the world sharp enough to carve the blonde out from where she lives underneath Azzi’s ribcage. Azzi doesn’t want anyone to try and dig her out. She  thinks she might bleed out if they do. 

“Az,” Paige whines, waving her free hand in the younger girl’s face, “are you even paying attention to me?”

“That depends,” Azzi hums, “are you saying anything interesting?”

“I’m always saying something interesting.”

“You’re always saying something. The interesting is subjective,” Azzi teases, laughing when Paige pouts. 

“I sneak you out to give you an adventure and this is how you repay me? With insults?” Paige puts a dramatic hand to her heart.

“Walking boring streets is not an adventure. Virginia has streets too.”

“It’s not about the streets, it’s about where the streets lead to,” Paige says with grave seriousness. 

Azzi raises an eyebrow, “are you entering your philosopher Paige era?”

“I’d make a good philosopher,” Paige waggles her own eyebrows as they two girls find themselves entering park Pieramohi. 

“Virginia has parks too, you know Paige?” Azzi says skeptically. 

Paige lets out a dramatic sigh, “will you just keep walking, woman. Sometimes I wonder if you even like me?”

It’s said like a joke but there’s a hint of insecurity beaded into it that buzzes in Azzi’s ears as she wraps a careful hand around Paige’s wrist, stopping the two of them where they are. 

“Hey,” she whispers softly, nudging the older girl, “you don’t ever have to wonder with me. I’m always gonna like you Paige. Even if you’re a pain in my ass half the time.”

“Had to ruin it with the last part, didn't you?” Paige complains but her eyes twinkle at the reassurance, “Just so you know I’m gonna be a pain in your ass forever.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” Azzi promises as they continue strolling through the park. 

The silence is peaceful and the breeze that flows around them is like a comforting hug. And Azzi thinks that she’d be okay if there wasn’t a destination for them to get to, as long as the journey came with Paige by her side. 

“We’re almost there,” Paige says slowly, a slightly nervous edge to her voice. 

“You sure you’re not just getting us lost-” the teasing quip dies on Azzi’s tongue as she stares at the scenery in front of her. They’re standing on the edge of a bridge overlooking a lake and it looks like something out of a disney fairytale; the picturesque image of green trees silhouetted against a magically starry night is captured perfectly on the still surface of the water that’s flowing beneath. As Azzi peers across the railing, Paige right next to her, she feels her breath hitch at the reflection that peers up at her. Because the view in front of them is beautiful but Paige’s eyes are on Azzi and she’s staring at her as if the view is nothing in comparison. 

“C’mon,” the blonde says softly, lacing her fingers through Azzi’s as she tugs her along, “I have a plan.”

“There’s more?” Azzi asks in awe as Paige guides her to the gazebo in the middle of the bridge. 

“Just a little bit,” Paige says and oh- that shy smile is different. Azzi doesn’t think she’s seen that one yet and she makes a mental note to herself, to memorize it and store it along with all of Paige’s other smiles that make Azzi’s insides swoop like a rollercoaster. 

She watches intently as Paige begins to peruse through the purple rucksack she’d been carrying. The first thing out of it is a picnic blanket and then a horde of different snacks, all of Azzi’s favorites. Two plastic champagne glasses are next and then a sheepish grin as Paige pulls out a bottle of soda. 

“Couldn’t quite risk trying to get alcohol,” Paige scratches at her neck. 

“Next time maybe,” Azzi shrugs as she helps Paige set up the arrangement and she feels herself fluttering at the thought of doing this again and again and again. 

“How’d you even find this place?” she asks as Paige begins to pour out the soda. 

“You ever heard of googling?”

Azzi rolls her eyes at Paige’s teasing smirk, “how’d you even have time to do this?”

Paige is quiet for a second as she passes Azzi her glass, “wanted to do something special for us,” she says quietly, keeping her eyes intently on what she’s doing as she pours out a drink for herself, “wasn’t hard to find time for you.”

“You could be a poet, Paige Bueckers,” Azzi whispers and she knows it’s unfair of her but she thinks it anyway. As long as all your poems are about me. 

“The poets are lucky I chose a ball instead of a pen. They’d be out of a job otherwise,” Paige says, trying to ease back into the more familiar arrogance. 

“Always so humble,” Azzi says, rolling her eyes as she holds up her glass, “alright what are toasting to?”

“I came up with this whole thing. You can come up with a toast,” Paige scrunches her nose and Azzi shakes her head at it. 

She thinks for a second before smiling brightly at the girl in front of her, “let’s just keep it simple and toast to us.”

“How original,” Paige teases but she clinks her glass against Azzi’s anyways, “here’s to us.”

“Here’s to us,” Azzi repeats as they both take sips of soda. 

They melt into a comfortable silence, relishing in this rare moment where there isn’t a screen separating them from each other. Facetimes is a wonderful creation but a blurry screen, Azzi decides, doesn’t nearly do justice to just how damn pretty Paige is. Her hair is golden as it basks in the glow of the moon and Azzi wonders if the stars are jealous of how brilliantly the blonde’s blue eyes twinkle.

It’s Paige who speaks first, her voice hesitant, “you uh- you never asked me how my date went a couple of weeks ago.”

Azzi feels her whole body go rigid. She’d almost forgotten about Paige’s wretched date. The blonde had told her about it a couple of days before the actual event and Azzi had played the dutiful role of a best friend, teasing Paige with a light-heartedness she didn’t feel and congratulating her with an excitement that came from anywhere but from the heart. She’d purposely avoided Paige’s calls the day of the date and then two days after, coming up with some sorry excuse she no longer remembers. On the third day, when the hollow ache of i miss her voice in her chest had become too hard to ignore, Azzi had finally picked up the phone and diverted the conversation straight to a different topic. She hadn’t thought of the date since. 

“Guess it slipped my mind,” she says airily, fingers gripping the edge of the picnic blanket. 

“I could tell you about it now,” Paige says slowly. 

I’d rather you didn’t, Azzi thinks but that’s a thought that veers a little too out of the sphere of best-friend-isms and so she simply nods her head, “y-yeah tell me about it. How was it?”

“It was nice,” Paige begins and there’s something hidden in her tone that Azzi can't quite place but she’s a little too busy sulking at the idea of Paige with anybody else to try and decipher it, “dinner was good. Took her to a movie after. That was good too.”

“That’s cool P. I’m glad- I’m glad you had fun,” Azzi says nonchalantly, gripping the glass in her hands just a little too tight. 

“I didn’t.”

“What?”

“I didn’t really have that much fun,” Paige clarifies and Azzi gawks at her in confusion as the older girl fidgets with the frayed edges of the picnic blankets, “just didn’t- didn’t feel right. Don’t think she had much fun either. She never texted me after.”

“What a bitch,” Azzi bites out, suddenly irrationally angry at a girl she’d never met because how could anyone possibly not have fun with Paige, “I’m sorry P. You deserve-”

“I didn’t care that she didn’t text back-”

“Still. It’s just the decent thing to do,” Azzi rants. 

“Maybe,” Paige shrugs, “but I didn’t have time to care about that. I had other things on my mind. Like the fact that you weren’t talking to me.”

Azzi flinches at the accusation, rushing out her previous defense, “I was busy.”

“Bullshit,” Paige sneers. 

“Paige-”

“But I get it,” the older girl says softly as she reaches for Azzi’s hand, tugging the brunette closer to her and Azzi feels something inside her erupt at how close their faces are, “I probably wouldn’t have talked to you for two days either if you went on a date with someone else.”

“Oh,” Azzi breathes out and there’s probably something more eloquent she should say but there’s this realization of maybe you feel it too that’s beginning to creep up her spine, rendering her speechless as Paige continues to stare at her like she’s mapping out all the tiniest details of Azzi’s face. 

“The whole date, I kept thinking how you wouldn’t order what she ordered off the menu or that you would probably hit my hand if I tried to steal something off your plate but then give it to me anyway. And that the movie would never have been so quiet with you and we’d probably get yelled at for giggling too much and I-” Paige pauses, dragging in a deep breath, “I definitely would’ve kissed you at the end.”

A sigh of relief escapes Azzi’s lips, “you didn’t kiss her.”

“No,” Paige confirms as she drops her forehead against Azzi’s, “but I-,” the blonde gulps nervously and Azzi can’t help the way her hand reaches up to caress the blush forming on Paige’s cheeks. 

“Ask me,” she whispers.

“I really want to kiss you,” Paige confesses, voice shaking slightly, “can I kiss you?”

Azzi doesn’t say anything, choosing to reply instead by pressing her lips softly against Paige’s. They move slowly at first, testing each other’s boundaries and savoring their first taste of each other. Azzi pulls the older girl onto her lap, hands firmly on Paige’s hips as the other girl clasps her own hands around Azzi’s neck.  It’s a little messy and uncoordinated and Azzi thinks they might need to practice a little more to really get it right but still, it’s everything.

And Azzi just knows

She knows it then just the way she knew Tim was meant to be her dad. The way she knew Jon and José were meant to be her brothers. The way she knew she was meant to play basketball. Azzi knows that she’s meant to fall hopelessly in love with Paige Bueckers. 

March 2033

There are three things Azzi should do. 

Push Paige away 

Tell her this a bad idea 

Run the fuck away

She does none of the above.

Instead Azzi kisses Paige back. 

And it’s still everything. Like the sun and moon are colliding and creating something so insanely powerful; something that feels so eternal. 

There’s nothing soft or slow about it as Paige presses every inch of herself into Azzi until she can feel Paige’s heartbeat as strongly as she can feel her own. It might be impossible but she swears their hearts are talking to each other, tapping out rhythms against each other’s chests that confess all the things their owners are too scared to say. And Azzi wants nothing more than to lose herself completely in the moment because Paige’s lips feel like a drug and Azzi thinks she might just be an addict in relapse. 

Except to relapse, you need to have recovered. And Azzi doesn’t think she ever fully recovered from Paige. 

It isn’t until she feels her back hit the edge of a desk and the sound of something crashing onto the floor infiltrates her ears, that Azzi finally comes to her senses. She tears her lips away from Paige as the older woman groans in protest, arms tightening their hold on Azzi’s waist so she can still have some semblance of control over the situation. And really Azzi knows she’s strong enough to escape Paige’s grip, could easily fight it if she wanted to. But well, she doesn’t want to. And Azzi’s tired of doing things she doesn’t want to do. 

“Paige-”

“If the next words out of your mouth are ‘we can’t do this’, Azzi I swear to god I’m going to kill you,” Paige threatens, pressing her forehead against Azzi’s. 

Azzi laughs softly and she can feel Paige’s whole body relax at the sound of it and like clockwork, she feels the tension beginning to release from her own muscles, “if you kill me then we definitely can’t do this.”

“I’ll revive you after or something,” Paige says with a half-smirk. 

“Or something,” Azzi rolls her eyes, “but we can’t-”

“Azzi,” Paige groans. 

“We can’t do this right now and definitely not here,” Azzi amends, alluding to the fact that they’re still in Steph’s office. 

Paige raises an eyebrow, cocking her head slightly, “but we can do this later? Somewhere else?”

The question lingers between them as Azzi bites her lip. She knows what this is, knows that it’s Paige putting the ball in her court. A ‘no’ would likely be the end of things and that scares her more than she’s willing to admit but she’s not quite ready to commit to a ‘yes’ yet, even if that flame of desire inside of her, the one that can only be lit by Paige, is blazing hot through her veins. 

“I don’t know,” Azzi says carefully, shivering at the way Paige’s thumb is rubbing circles against her waist, the flimsy material of her shirt doing nothing to prevent the goosebumps forming on her skin, “TBD.”

“That’s not a no,” Paige says carefully, hope blossoming freely on her face. 

“That’s not a yes either,” Azzi warns half-heartedly. 

“But it’s not a no,” Paige presses. 

“No,” Azzi admits, playing with the neckline of Paige’s shirt, “it’s not a no.”

And Azzi’s so scared of the future, scared that if she lets herself burn, she’ll incinerate everyone around her but there’s something in the way Paige smiles at her words. Something that feels a lot like a promise of i’ll be the rain that washes out the fire before you can turn us to ashes. 

“I can work with that,” Paige says softly, tilting Azzi’s chin up. 

“So desperate to get back into my pants Bueckers,” Azzi teases and she expects a witty remark in return but instead she’s met with nothing but sincerity. 

“So desperate to get back into your life,” Paige whispers, voice cracking on the last two words. 

Tears prickle against Azzi’s waterline as she stares in awe at the girl in front of her. Sometimes she thinks Paige doesn’t even know that there’s a halo of goodness sitting above her head, doesn't even know just how beautiful her soul is. Paige is stunning on the outside; it’s something no one can deny. But it’s nothing compared to how gorgeous she is on the inside, nothing compared to how kind, how humble, how forgiving Paige is. 

“Why?” Azzi asks, her tone rife with heaviness. 

“Why what?” 

“After everything, after all this time, why would you still want to be in my life?” the tears fall harder as Azzi struggles to breathe, “I- I broke your heart. I broke us. How could you possibly want that again. How could you possibly want me again?”

Paige's eyes soften as she cups Azzi’s cheeks, thumbs brushing away at the drops of water running down them, “because you’re Azzi. My Azzi. And I get it- I get that you’re not ready to be all in on this with me yet and if I’m being honest with myself, I’m not completely ready either. But we can work on it right? Take it slow and see where it goes and maybe we’ll- maybe we’ll be even better this time.”

“You think so?”

“I believe so.”

Azzi presses her lips delicately against Paige’s, reveling in the way it makes Paige’s breath hitch. She pulls away faster than she would like herself and Paige chases her lips, eyes still closed. 

“What was that for,” the blonde asks, slightly dazed. 

“For being my Paige.”

***

Azzi taps her foot impatiently against her wooden patio as she glances at her phone clock for the umpteenth time. Paige is almost twenty minutes late to pick her and Stephie up to go to dinner at her parent’s house. The invites had technically been separate but Paige had insisted that they needed to go together because Paige didn’t want to walk into the house alone. Azzi’s not sure why Paige is nervous to see her dad and brothers again, not when she’s pretty sure they’re bursting with excitement to see the blonde whose pictures still have a permanent place on the family photo wall, but if Paige wants Azzi by her side, well she’s not going to say no. Not anymore. 

 It’s been a week since they’d agreed to take things slow and Azzi’s still not quite sure what exactly that means, but she thinks she likes it. She likes being able to call Paige and not having to come up with a lame excuse for why. She likes that she and Paige can take Stephie out for ice cream after Curry Camp and they don’t have to pretend they’re only tolerating each other’s presence for the little girl’s sake. She likes that they can brush their pinkies while walking and instead of jolting away, they simply just link them together. There’s boundaries of course. No sleepovers at either of their houses. No doing anything more than kissing. No kissing in front of anyone else and definitely no kissing in front of Stephie. No doing anything in front of Stephie really. And there’s still so much mountain left to climb but as long as they’re pushing up it together, Azzi doesn’t think there’s any incline steep enough to stop her from continuing up this path.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie squeals as Paige’s car rounds the corner into Azzi’s driveway. 

Paige steps out of the car, arms wide open and ready to catch Stephie as the little girl goes tumbling down the front porch, aiming straight for the blonde. Azzi’s not an artist by any means but if she was, she thinks she could paint a thousand pictures of Stephie and her Miss Buecks. It terrifies Azzi a little bit, just how perfectly Stephie fits into Paige’s side but it calms her too because there’s a part of her that’s in love with how much they love each other.

“You’re late Bueckers,” Azzi chides as she follows her daughter’s path down the patio stairs. 

Paige grins, shifting Stephie on her lap as she opens the side door to her car to pull out two bouquets of flowers

“Will these make up for it?” she asks slyly as she hands the larger one, an assortment of pink flowers, to Azzi and a slightly smaller bouquet of purple hydrangeas to Stephie. 

“These are so pretty Miss Buecks,” Stephie gushes before pressing a kiss to Paige’s cheek left cheek and Paige beams at the compliment, “thank you Miss Buecks.”

“You took that long to get flowers?” Azzi asks with a raised eyebrow. 

“Mama,” Stephie chides immediately, “you’re supposed to thank someone when they give you a gift.”

“Yeah Azzi,” Paige’s eyes glimmer with mirth, “thank me like Stephie thanked me. Don’t you think Mama owes me a kiss on the cheek Steph?”

Azzi narrows her eyes at the scheming pair in front of her as Stephie nods animatedly at Paige’s question, “yeah Mama you owe Miss Buecks a kiss on the cheek.”

Shaking her head, Azzi walks over to Paige taking deliberately steady steps. Slowly Azzi leans in, puckering her lips. Paige closes her eyes and Azzi winks at Stephie who’s eyes widen. 

“I’m waiting,” Paige sing-songs, a self-satisfied smirk taking over her features. 

And instead of the promised kiss, Azzi licks a sloppy strip down Paige’s cheek and the blonde shrieks as both Azzi and Stephie burst into laughter.

“EW AZZI GROSS,” Paige whines, hurriedly rubbing her shirt against her cheek, “is this what you’re teaching your daughter?”

“I’m teaching my daughter not to let anyone manipulate her,” Azzi says, giving Paige a careful look, “now why were you late?”

Paige grins sheepishly as she opens the door to the backseat of the door. A lavender car seat is placed on the left side of the car and Azzi feels her heart lurch with no one’s ever cared like this. 

“It’s pu-ple,” Stephie claps excitedly, “is it for me?”

“Of course it is,” Paige confirms, booping Stephie’s nose before looking at Azzi, “it’s just- we uh- we always have to take your car cause it has the car seat and moving it between cars is such a hassle. So I just thought- you know- I just thought it’d be cool- useful- practical- if I had one too? And this way if you ever need me to take Stephie off you then I uh- then you don’t have to worry about me driving. I don’t- I don’t really knows much about car seats but I looked it up online before and the person at the store agreed that this is definitely the best one- like I swear it’s safe-”

She’s cut off by the feel of Azzi’s lips pressed to her cheeks. 

“Thank you Paige.”

***

Just as Azzi expected, Paige merges herself back into the Fudd family with the same ease she’d first had when she’d carved out a place for herself almost a decade and a half ago. It’s a little emotional at first when Tim opens the door, a smile almost as big as him decorating his face as he pulls Paige into a hug even before she can say a word. 

“Welcome home kid,” he whispers into her blonde hair and Azzi doesn’t have to see Paige’s face to know that her best friend is blinking away tears. 

Guilt surges in Azzi’s stomach and she tries to swallow away the lump of i took this from her that’s blocking her throat. It had been so simple at 15 to give Paige a part of her world; Azzi hadn’t thought twice about it. And then with the snap of her fingers, she’d taken that world away. She knows her parents had never cut Paige out; hell they’d been at her wedding to some other woman -and Azzi had pushed them to go knowing Paige would need it- but it was a far cry from what they’d been. A far cry from when Paige’s schedule was a key factor while planning Fudd family summers. 

“Hey,” Stephie pouts, tiny hands crossed over her small body “I thought you always gave me the first hug Pops.”

“We’ll make an exception today,” Tim says with a wink before letting Paige walk into Katie’s arms and spinning his granddaughter around, “but you’re always gonna be my favorite.”

“I better be,” Stephie threatens and the adults around her laugh. 

And finally it’s Azzi's turn to be pulled into one of her dad’s patent bear hugs. She goes willingly, always at her most warmest in the arms of the man whose blood might not run through her veins, but whose love had always protected her from the cruelties of the world. 

“You look really happy today sweetheart,” Tim says softly. 

Azzi’s eyes flitter over her father’s shoulder to where Jon and José are embroiling Paige in a group hug with Stephie in the middle of it, screaming about finally having their “white sister” back, as Katie and José’s fiancé Tallulah roll their eyes at the group of them, and she can’t help but smile into her dad’s shirt, “I feel pretty happy today.”

*** 

“You cheated,” Jon yells. 

“Miss Buecks does not cheat,” Stephie yells back loyally. 

“Don’t get into this Stephie. You don’t know her like we do,” José glares at Paige who narrows her eyes at him, “she’s been stealing from the bank.”

“Miss Buecks does not  steal,” Stephie defends again, wrapping her arms around Paige’s neck from behind as the blonde presses a quick kiss against Stephie’s temple. 

“It’s okay Stephie,” Paige reassures, gently swinging the little girl into her lap, “some people are just sore losers.”

“Can’t be a sore loser because I didn’t lose-” José coughs and Jon corrects himself immediately, “because we didn’t lose.”

“Y’all let it go,” Tallulah groans, leaning her head back against the sofa, “it’s literally just monopoly. Please, I'm so tired.”

“Just monopoly? JUST MONOPOLY?” José guffaws dramatically, “I can’t believe I’m marrying someone who doesn’t understand that it isn’t just monopoly Tallulah. It’s about liars and cheats and honor-”

“Miss Buecks has plenty of honor,” Stephie says stubbornly, leaning her head back against Paige’s chest.

Jon rounds on Azzi, who’s been silently watching the situation, “did you help her cheat?”

“Excuse me?” Azzi asks, glaring at her brother from where she’s been comfortable reclining on the sofa. She’d opted to be the banker instead of playing, content just handing out money to the rest of them while watching the game unfold. But really she hadn’t been paying much attention to anyone else but her daughter and Paige. Stephie didn’t quite understand the rules yet and so she was always on someone’s team. It had been a given tonight, that of course she would be with Paige. And Azzi had watched, trying not to be too obvious, with a foolish grin on her face, as her two favorite people whispered to each other, Paige listening intently to all of Stephie’s ideas whether they were good or bad. 

“Oh good point,” José turns to look at Azzi too, “you’re the banker, did you help Paige cheat?”

“Mama would never cheat,” Stephie argues defiantly as Azzi pushes herself up from the sofa to send a menacing look to both of her brothers. 

“I’m not going to dignify that accusation with a justification,” Azzi says, standing so she’s towering over her two brothers who are still sitting on the floor, “now clean up the game. It’s almost Stephie’s bedtime.”

 They might be well into their twenties and José might be taller than her now, but they’re still not quite  immune to Azzi’s wrath. Tallulah and Paige snicker as the two men, sulking at each other, obey their older sister's command without another word. 

“You’ve gotta teach me how you do that,” Tallulah says, hi-fiving Azzi who smirks in response. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie whispers, “what does dig-ni-fy mean?”

“Mean she’s not gonna entertain your uncles being dumba-”

“Paige!”

“Being dumbapples,” Paige corrects and both Azzi and Stephie give her an odd look at her ridiculous attempt at saving the bad word from leaving her lips. 

“Alright Stephie-bean,” Azzi says, pulling her daughter off of Paige’s lap, “it’s late enough. Off to brush your teeth you go.”

Stephie looks hesitantly between the staircase leading up to the guest bedroom -where she and Azzi normally stayed- and Paige. 

“Can Miss Buecks stay with us tonight?” she asks softly, one hand bunching in Paige’s shirt as she stares up at her mother with large doe eyes, “please Mama.”

“Stephie I don’t think-” Paige begins, ready to stick to the boundaries they’d laid out for themselves and really Azzi should let her; should follow her lead really.  

Except the words are tumbling out of her mouth before she can stop them, “yeah she can- she can stay.”

“YAYY,” Stephie squeals, jumping into Azzi’s arms as Paige stares up at her in surprise, “thank you, thank you, thank you Mama. I’m so happy,” she swings from Azzi to Tallulah, “aunty Tully did you hear? Miss Buecks is gonna stay with us and you can make her your famous pancakes in the morning.”

“I can, can I?” Tallulah asks with a raised eyebrow as she lets Stephie and her excited chatter lead her towards the bathroom. With Jon and José both having already started towards their own rooms and Azzi’s parents fast asleep, it leaves just Paige and Azzi in the living room. 

“You’re okay with me staying?” Paige asks softly, finally lifting herself from the floor and onto her feet. 

Azzi scratches the back of her neck, “if- if you want to. You don’t have to. I can- I’ll explain to Stephie-”

“I want to,” Paige says, taking a cautious step towards Azzi, “but the rules?”

“This doesn’t count,” Azzi justifies and Paige smirks, taking another step towards the brunette. 

“It doesn’t?”

“We said no sleeping over at each other’s places. This is my parent’s house. So technically it doesn’t count,” Azzi shrugs, trying to keep her face from breaking into a grin as Paige moves one more step closer. 

“And where exactly am I sleeping?” Paige asks with a knowing grin as she loops an arm around Azzi’s waist, briefly checking to make sure no one’s around. 

Azzi tilts her head, letting the grin break through, “I think Stephie would like it if you slept with us.”

“Ah well if that’s what Stephie would like,” Paige says, nodding commiseratingly. 

“For Stephie’s sake,” Azzi repeats as she wraps her arm around Paige’s neck, pressing her forehead against the older girl’s and letting herself just breathe in the peace that comes with being all consumed by Paige. 

“Azzi,” Paige’s voice is laced with uncharacteristic vulnerability as she speaks again, “you won’t- you won’t run away again tomorrow morning will you?”

“No,” Azzi promises, gently brushing her lips against Paige’s, “I won’t run away again.”

[hannieween]

pushing and pulling | joshua hong

› pairings: joshua hong x female reader › genre: angst, fluff, smut (18+) › aus: nba player joshua, playboy joshua, love affair › word count: 8k

› 🎧: take you down – yugyeom | do me right – gemini | pushin' n pullin' – red velvet | middle of the night – monsta x | 100 ways – jackson wang | dumb – i.m | guilty – taemin

this post is connected a nba joshua playboy request (you can find it in my page on the reqs tag)

› nsfw tags under the cut

› warnings: slight hurt/comfort, toxic vibes, reader is married, body worshipping, oral sex, pussy drunk shua, soft-dom joshua, oblivious pining, love making, unprotected p in v sex, lotus position, a bit of cockwarming, creampie, reader is on the pill, joshua is kind of a jerk but sweet in some way, pet names: baby (hers)

› big big thank you to @cvntrlseecvntrlvee who beta read this for me and helped me edit and with the more tricky aspects of joshua pouring his heart out to you ( > 〰 < )♡

› also thanks to @glowunderthemoon who brainstormed with me and recommended 100 ways by jackson for this chapter. i wanna kiss your genius brain

› disclaimer: minors dni this post is intended for 18+ readers. please have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂.

pushing and pulling

The elliptical beeped softly as Joshua forced it to a stop. He kept his breathing steady, but he couldn't ignore the impulsive need to wipe the sweat off his face.

He looked closely at his progress. Feeling content, he climbed down, wiped the machine and walked away to finally commence his general training.

The gym was particularly deserted. As expected from a Friday afternoon. Joshua had just finished warming up and moved to do some bench presses. It was his usual Friday routine, except he mostly went during the mornings.

But last night he couldn't sleep. And he didn't have any plans for the rest of the night, so, the gym it is.

He kept the music in his earphones at a high volume to drown out the music blasting from the gym's fancy sound system and the lonely goers who were working on the other weight machines.

Why do they have to let the weights drop that loud? So noisy.

He kept pushing the bar up and then slowly pressed it back down with a controlled motion, letting strained exhales escape his mouth. It was one of his favorite exercises to do. He was lying back on the bench, and staring at the ceiling, listening to music—he could reflect like this.

Until he sat back up on the bench, having finished his rep, and stood up to look for something to clean up the bench after him. That was when he caught sight of you, in the far distance of the gym. You were using a treadmill, looking straight at your reflection in the mirror up front.

Maybe you just got to the gym, he thought from the look of you. Your well-kept hair was braided, there was no sweat on your face from what he could see and well, he hadn't seen you until now.

Joshua kept doing his exercises as normal. But he couldn't shake off the tight knot that had parked in his stomach since he saw you there.

In fact, every time you crossed his mind he felt that way. And he thought of you constantly. He replayed over and over in his head the memory of the events that led you to the first time you kissed him.

It had been a rushed, heated kiss—but everything that happened before it took its time. At every chance, when you crossed paths, you'd sent him glances that,  at first, obfuscated him a little.

Until one night, at a private event. After many suggestive looks exchanged between Joshua and you, in a perfect moment, your husband was out of the way and you got Joshua to follow you down a fire exit. One thing led to the other.

He didn't know you went to the same gym as him—though it could be something he expected since everyone on his team used it. It was quite the exclusive place.

He kept checking on you every now and then. It seemed that you were just running because half an hour passed and you hadn’t left your spot.

That's how he slowly gathered the little details about you, the bags under your eyes, the sad look on the features of your face.

So he kept to his regular training—working his lats, his triceps, biceps and then finishing with abs. Push and pull kinda day. It was supposed to be only pull but well, what gives.

Joshua moved from the last machine, cleaned it off, threw the towel away and walked towards the locker-rooms. Thinking of getting a shower, grabbing his stuff and heading home. Maybe drink a beer and hopefully, sleep.

"What are you doing here?"

Joshua removed his earphones. You had cornered him almost as if you had planned it, and possibly did. He looked over his shoulder as a precaution, the hall was empty.

"What are you doing here?" you repeated, your tone anxious and shifty eyes roaming all over him.

"Baking a cake," he responded nonchalantly.

"Tsk, fine," you scoffed and looked the other way.

Joshua paused and took consideration over what he saw in you, the stale, emotionless about you. Unusual. The features of your face looked torn, instead of the usual kindness he usually saw in them. He confirmed his suspicions that you weren’t sleeping well either when he saw the darkness under your eyes, and the paleness that stole the color from your lips. 

Even with that dead look in your eye, Joshua was convinced that you were the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. Although all you and Joshua ever did was throw snarky comments at each other, sometimes while fucking, even then, he always thought you were sweet and cute. 

"How about we start over?"

"What?"

"Hi?" Joshua joked. "How are you? No?"

"Josh," you sighed and took a hand to your forehead, where your fingers rubbed your frown tiredly. "Sorry, you know what, you're right. I'm being a little on edge."

Joshua couldn't blame you for that. In fact, he felt like he might be the only person in the world that would understand what you're going through.

He leaned in, his doe eyes reading you carefully. "Do you need to talk?" he asked, his voice devoid of all snarkiness. It was his usual tone, honeyed.

You raised your eyes at him, glinting in such a way that it only made the knot in his stomach twist harder. "Yeah, I–," you choked up. "I... uh..."

"Did you come here by car?" he promptly asked and he saw the spark in your eyes change. Excitement, fear, as if the answers you desired so greatly were all found in him, in that question.

"I walked," you frowned softly. "Why?"

Joshua dug on the inside of his sweats and pulled out the key to his car. "Black Audi A8," he instructed: "Wait for me inside. I'll take no more than 10 minutes."

You pocketed the key in your gym bag quickly. "What are you going to do?"

"Take a shower," he said and started to turn to walk down the hall. "See you there."

Joshua closed the door of his car, settling on the seat.

You handed him the key to his car. "Hi," you mumbled shamefully.

"That's better," he joked, taking the key and thrusting it into the ignition. He drove away from the underground parking lot. As soon as he was within the vicinity of his place and the silence had turned somewhat unpleasant, he sent you a glance. "It's been a while."

You had been keeping your head turned to the side. But you nodded, and you met his brief gaze. "Yeah I've... been busy."

Joshua kept his comments to himself from that point. His mind had started reeling instead. He parked on his spot and as soon as he turned the engine off, he opened the glove compartment, pulling out a cap.

"Here," he offered you the cap.

"Are you serious?" you asked, sending him a bewildered look.

"Listen, I'm not risking someone seeing you here with me and start asking questions," he emphasized those words, knowing what value they had to them.

Because he was the nation's favorite playboy. The one who’s got the eyes and heart of the media. The heartthrob. Ever since his career skyrocketed, this fame, this persona, it had been following him close by like a shadow.

Though all a lie, it seemingly had fooled you too.

"Fine," you said, taking the cap, which was his team's merch, putting it on with a huff. Then you mumbled with dry sarcasm: "How do I look?"

"Pretty, as always," he smirked and pushed the door to get out of his car.

You followed him inside the elevator, down a hall and into his apartment.

"I would've assumed we'd reach the penthouse," you quipped as soon as you were inside.

Joshua turned the first lamp in the corner of the living room. The curtains were drawn wide open, letting in the view of the skylight. He snickered as an attempt to deflect from the constant judgment of his character.

"Why is that?" he asked with a low tone and motioned you over with one of his large hands.

"I dunno," you mumbled and walked over to the fancy large couch. "May I?"

"Of course," he replied and went over to the open kitchen to open the cabinet, grabbing two short glasses. "Drink?"

"Sure, uh," you breathed out shakily. "I only assumed that you'd be like the rest of 'em, you know. Showy, living on the top of the highest building, throwing out money wherever you go."

"Pff," he scoffed, throwing some cubes of ice into each glass. "You've known me long enough to know that's not my style."

That comment seemed to rattle you a bit. You stilled in your seat and when Joshua offered you the glass of whisky, you stared at the ice cubes for a moment.

Joshua was your husband's best friend. You have been part of each other's lives for long enough to know that his lavish lifestyle was nothing compared to the one of your husband's.

But Joshua is nothing like your husband.

Jake, your husband, is the one that the media loves. He is the golden boy, team captain, the one with the most deals, money and fame. The guy who gets all the recognition for being such a good husband.

"Jake is cheating on me," you breathed, letting those words out for the first time since you found out. They hit you like a punch in the gut, and your eyes instantly brimmed with tears of shame, guilt and regret.

Joshua was still standing between the couch and the coffee table, right in front of you. So he sat down by your side, leaving his drink beside yours, not quite looking in your eye as he sighed.

"I know."

Of all the reactions you were expecting, all the scenarios you ran in your mind, you never thought that he would say that.

Because he was your secret.

"How long have you known?" you demanded with a strangled tone.

He turned his head to look at you now, your gazes met and he decided to take a large gulp of his whisky before replying: "Ever since he slept with the first girl."

"Then you've known for..."

"Does it matter?"

Your eyes stopped shifting from side to side, the frantic train of thoughts slowed down. "Yes," you said slowly. "How come you've never told me?"

"I was going to but," he exhaled softly. "You sought me out before I could."

"So you were fine with us fucking and never acknowledging it?" you were quick to put two and two but then, "Why?"

"I thought that was what you needed."

"Joshua..." you whispered. "Why? Are you okay with–, why would you never say something about it?"

"I'm okay with whatever you want me to be," he muttered, looking straight into your eyes now. "I knew you needed me, you didn't need to tell me why. I knew."

"So all this time, when you've taunted me about it, to tell him... was it all just for fun? To get yourself off, to make yourself feel better–"

"To play my part," he sighed and went for another gulp of whisky and when you didn't say anything, he elaborated: "Famous playboy. Isn't that the reason why you went to me?"

You looked away in shame. "You're also his best friend. I figured the more excitement you'd get the less I would have to explain," It was your turn to drink from your glass, which you did so slowly.

"Was."

Your stomach dropped. Something in you had worked that out already, but you needed to hear the confirmation from him.

"What?"

Joshua took the glass between his lips, pouring the gold liquid down his throat. "Soon as he started boasting about it. I went low contact," he paused, the glass still lingering in front of his mouth before adding with a hint of disdain: "The dumbass hasn't even realized that I don't want to talk to him."

He looked at you with caution, expecting to see you crying, showing some emotion. Instead, you were mindlessly staring at the ice cubes sitting at the bottom of the now empty whisky glass.

"How did you find out, anyway?" he risked asking, trying to keep your attention still. He felt like you slipping away in your thoughts was dangerous.

"He stopped paying attention to me completely, he even recoils from my touch," you mumbled and your lip quivered a little. "So I started suspecting."

A silence followed and as the seconds went on, Joshua started getting anxious.

You licked your lips, raising your eyes and finding his. "He keeps things from the girls he sleeps with inside a box," you rasped out dryly. "Lingerie, earrings, hair ties... I'm also sure he's taken them to the house."

"Jesus," he hissed, downing the rest of the liquid to discard the glass on the coffee table and rubbing his hands on his face, trying not to succumb to the overwhelming rage he was feeling. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm not sure if he either wanted me to find it or he's too stupid to actually keep it well hidden," you sighed. "It's driving me crazy these days."

"Do you have a plan? Do you know what you'll do?" he asked, trying with all his might to derive his attention back to you.

"I have nothing," you whispered.

"Does he know you went out tonight?"

"Jake's not in town. He flew out to visit his family and friends," you rolled your eyes and scoffed.

Joshua didn't need proof to know that was a blatant lie. And it seemed that you knew it too.

You finally set back the empty glass on the coffee table and let out a tired sigh.

"Can I ask you something?" you muttered with a tiny voice.

Joshua knew what was coming. So he relaxed on the back of the couch, shifting one leg over the seat to sit facing your body. He even propped an elbow on the headrest of the couch to lean his head on his fist. 

"Shoot," he mumbled.

"Why are you doing this?" you glanced at him shyly. "You said that you no longer speak to Jake, but you pressure me to tell him either way. Are you–," you choked up again, but now due to your nervousness you started blurting: "Why do this, why agree to have an affair with me?"

"At the beginning, I felt sorry for you," he said reluctantly, feeling ashamed of himself as he looked away briefly. "You looked lonely. And I knew why. So."

"That still doesn't answer my question," you whispered, trying to read his doe eyes under the soft glow of the lamps.

He leaned his head on one side, reading the expression on your face. Your features had relaxed, no longer containing the anxiousness from before.

"Is it not obvious?" he asked back and felt his own heart race slightly, he paused and decided to say: "I'm also lonely."

You made no inquiry about the alleged rumors, everything that the media says about the women who keep coming and going in his life. But he hoped that you would catch onto slowly that it was all an act created by the media to attract people in. And he was their puppet.

"Do you mind if I ask you a question?" he returned, blinking slowly at you, unable to look at anything else but your face.

"Shoot," you echoed with a shadow of a smile.

"Do you still love him?"

You held your breath and avoided his gaze again. "No," you blurted out, guilt washing over you. "I haven't for a while. Thought that much was evident, though."

"I needed to know," he replied, feeling a light rush of ecstasy run through him upon hearing your answer.

You smiled, but there was no happiness to that smile. It was sad, and had bitterness written all over it. Joshua had to understand then that you lost a good chunk of your life when your husband decided to sleep around recklessly.

But besides the empathy he felt for you, he was livid. He wasn't a man to endorse violence, but he couldn't deny the fact that he has had to contain himself several times before when your husband was boasting about his affairs.

"Hey," Joshua whispered, running the back of his index finger on your cheek. "I'm sorry you're going through this. I really am."

Your brow furrowed a little and your eyes widened, making you look a little lost. "Thank you, Joshua. I'm sorry this probably wasn't the way you wanted your Friday night to go."

"I had no plans for tonight," he explained, blinking slowly at you, an endearing look in his eyes.

"What would a regular night look like for you anyway?" you asked, leaning back on the couch, looking at him with curiosity.

"You're looking at it," he shrugged with ease and nodded. "Minus you being here, of course."

"Be serious," you scoffed at him.

"I am," he rolled his eyes with feigned annoyance. Joshua only kept his playboy image by flirting around. every once in a while, he would take a pretty model or actress to dinner.

You seemed to ponder for a second, without tearing your eyes from his face. "Well, you not being what the world says about you is definitely something I didn't expect," you confessed.

It was Joshua's turn to smile bitterly. "Yeah, who would've thought that the real playboy was the team captain, right?"

Your husband was the team captain. You immediately flinched a little with the realization that your husband's whole public image of being the perfect man was tainted not only by himself.

"Too soon?" Joshua mumbled shamefully.

"No, it's okay," you replied and cleared your throat.

But Joshua could see the gears in your brain turning. He couldn't blame you, he knew the feeling too well. It robbed him of sleep and held his peace of mind hostage every day.

"I'm sorry for pulling you into all of this," you told him. Your eyes were sincere, dimming with some regret just before you looked away.

"Don't be," he muttered softly, putting a hand on your knee to bring you some comfort. "I wouldn't do this if I didn't want any of it."

The features of your face relaxed at that and you met his eyes again. Your pretty hand slid on top of his in a gesture of gratitude. Then a thought crossed your mind—it seemed a little crazy that in all of this mess, you'd find a friend.

Even if the lines of that friendship had become blurry.

Joshua turned the palm of his hand over, so he was properly holding your hand now. You gave him a gentle squeeze, a warm feeling flooding in your chest and that made you sigh.

Then without thinking too much, he took the cap off your head, pushing some hairs off your face with his free hand. You didn't care how tender his touch felt, you welcomed it.

"Do you want me to take you home?" he asked with a low honeyed voice.

You shook your head silently, your hand was still in his so you just took the liberty to play with his pretty fingers, lacing them with yours.

"No one is waiting for me there," you muttered with a tiny voice and Joshua felt your words punch him in the chest. He felt overwhelmed by the urge to make you feel better, to take the pain from you.

So he just let it overpower him.

His hand came up to cradle your cheek, driving your gaze back to his again. What he wasn't expecting was you leaning your face against his touch, your free hand sliding on top of his and you closing your eyes.

He ran the pad of his thumb on your cheek, feeling your soft skin, then trailed to your lips, caressing them carefully until you opened your eyes again to find his.

You pressed your lips on the pad of his thumb. It wasn't a suggestive kiss, there was nothing in your eyes that meant that fiery need to which you had pulled him out the fire exit that first night he kissed you.

It was an affectionate kiss. But it only made him want more. He craved the softness, the tenderness, he needed you wholly.

So he took his shot, leaning in to rest his forehead on top of yours, the tip of his nose pushing against yours gently and he heard your breath hitch with a tiny moan as your lips brushed against his. He waited like this, waited for you to protest against this, to push him away.

But you gave in not a second later, pressing your soft lips against his own in a slow, tender kiss. You sobbed out some nervousness when you broke away, only to dive right in again with a deeper kiss, wet lips locking slowly, as if meeting each other again.

Joshua released your hand that was previously laced with his, using it to find your waist and pulled softly, motioning you closer. You understood what he meant without him having to break the kiss to say it.

So you sloppily moved your knees on the couch to sit on his lap, straddling him. Your hands cupped his face, now demanding a hungrier kiss from him, which he responded willingly with a low grunt that coiled in his throat.

The kiss suddenly came to a stop with a smacking sound. Heavy breathing filled his ears before he opened his eyes to see the light frown on your face, your eyes desperately reading his features.

"What are we doing, Joshua?" you asked. Your voice sounded shaky and breathless.

"Going with it," he replied, heart pounding against his chest.

"But, after this. Where are we going with all of this?" you demanded and he knew you needed to get ahead of this. You were hurt and probably weren't looking to be hurt again.

Joshua squeezed your arm gently. "Wherever you want it to," he replied sincerely, his doe eyes looking up at you.

"Josh," a question formed on your lips, but then you leaned in to meet his lips with your own.

"Mm?" he responded, the soft lines between his eyebrows seemed to mark a little.

"Just..." you shook your head slightly and swallowed hard, thinking of the warmth in his hands parked in the small of your back.

Joshua understood the restlessness, the danger that you were putting yourself in by being with him like this. He felt it too. But he also knew that you thought about him everyday, all the time. Just like he thought about you.

He blinked slowly at you, with a warmth and homeliness that swept through him. "What do you want?" he asked.

You paused, seemingly absorbed by the question for a second. It was the first time in a long time that someone asked you that—it had been a while since you took into consideration what you wanted, too.

When you started this, you thought that having an affair with Joshua was a form of revenge. To get back at your husband for betraying you. But it slowly became something you couldn't stop, you became greedy about it.

Now, you weren't sure if greed was the only thing that you felt.

"I want you," you whispered, feeling a rush of adrenaline coursing through your body upon confessing it. "I don't care how. I just know that I do. I think about you every day and it's driving me crazy."

Joshua's heart pounded frantically against his chest, his eyes reading your face, trying to gather every detail in your features. He knew it already, but hearing you say it sent him into a frenzy. Nothing else mattered anymore.

His hand cupped the back of your head, pulling you into a kiss, lips sealing yours with a passion he didn't know he had inside him. He blindly searched for the scrunchie that secured your braid and pulled it, freeing your hair with a groan.

You shuddered when his fingers sank in your hair, grazing your scalp, holding a fistful to keep you in place as he kissed you hungrily, his plump lips exploring yours.

It was the first time he kissed you like this, without the haste or the snark. There was no fear of getting caught, no need to rush anything. 

"Stay the night with me," Joshua whispered into your lips, feeling his breath catch under a surge of emotions.

"Okay," you whispered back without hesitation.

"Please," he added.

"I'll stay the night," you reassured him.

"Okay," he settled, pulling you into his arms, wrapping you as he kissed your lips hungrily, a soft moan spilling into your mouth when your hands cupped the back of his head.

Joshua felt torn between the need to do things slowly, he hadn't had the chance before to have you like this. Every time he's had the opportunity to kiss you or to have sex with you it's been in lonely corridors.

He didn't want to think about whether he would ever have you here like this again. He didn't want to think of the future and that made him irrational, careless.

Blindly searching for the hem of your clothes, he broke the kiss only to start undressing you. You raised your arms when he got rid of your hoodie you didn't see where it was thrown, Joshua was on your lips again, kissing you with urgency.

"Joshua," you muffled in his mouth. "Let's go to your room."

He nodded and wordlessly motioned you to stand up from his lap, fumbling for your hand to lead you down a dimly lit hall and pushed a door open, turning on the lights to the bedroom.

The room seemed dark upon first glance, the gray bedding contrasting only with the white pillows and the dim lighting of the overhead lamps. To your surprise, the scent of cinnamon hung in the air like a vague memory. As if a candle had been lit moments before he left the apartment to work out at the gym.

Joshua tugged at your arm, pulling you to his body so that he could wrap his arms around your body, leaning his head down to capture your lips with his own with a clumsy kiss as he walked you backwards until the back of your knees touched the edge of his bed.

"Sit down," he instructed softly. "Let me take care of you, yeah?"

Your breath hitched slightly, as your body began to heat up as soon as you sat down on his bed.

In one motion he pulled off his sweatshirt, exposing his bare torso. He had minor bruises and scratches on his sides and chest, but you knew it was normal, either from training or from how easily his skin bruised. Or both. While some looked old and faint, other bruises looked black and blue.

With little care for taking his time, he removed your clothes, he wanted you bare as soon as he could so he could finally see you. All the times he has been with you like this, all the times he's had sex with you have been fully clothed.

So when you laid in his bed, wholly naked below him, he sighed out his delight over you. He pressed a knee on the edge of the mattress, placing his hands at each side of your head to lean over your body.

He hummed as he pressed kisses in your lips, once, twice. "You're so beautiful," he muttered in between as his lips moved in yours seamlessly, melting into a more demanding and passionate kiss. 

Your eyes sparked with some amazement when he pulled back. He wondered if your husband ever said that to you, because you looked befuddled for a second.

"Yeah, you are," he muttered, a small smile crowning his pretty lips. "The prettiest girl I've ever seen."

"Josh," you chuckled warmly. "Don't go all sweet on me now."

"What, you thought I couldn't be anything but horrible to you?" he teased, kissing the apple of your cheek.

"I like the way you are," you confessed when his lips trailed down to the underside of your jaw, making you whimper a little when he placed an open kiss at the base of your throat.

"Yeah?" he muttered, ignoring the feeling shaking his heart. "Why?"

"Y-you're softer than you let on," you stammered, fingers trembling as you grazed his scalp to grab his hair. "You are kind and fun to be around. You're nothing like the world says about you."

"Mmn now who's going sweet on me," he teased, reaching down to kiss your tits, littering kisses all over, not trying to be sensual or to arouse you. He was simply exploring your body with his lips.

But it was quite obvious that you would become aroused. Your body responded by tensing up under his, your fingers clenching into fists, one gripping the bed covers, the other in his hair.

"Josh," you whimpered, when his tongue lapped around one of your nipples, now teasing it with the tip of his tongue, tasting your skin with a delightful groan.

While he did the same to your other nipple, his hand cupped your breast fully, his fingers gently digging into your soft skin, licking your nipple, his tongue swirling around it. His lips wrapped around your hardened nipple and suckled at it slightly.

"Fuck," you breathed, your thighs clenching when a sharp arousing feeling shot through your body.

Joshua hummed softly, detaching his mouth from your nipple with a soft smacking sound and moved to plant a soft kiss on your lower lip. "Will you let me eat you out, baby?" he lifted a hand from the mattress to pinch your chin. "Mn?"

A hot wave sizzled beneath your skin in anticipation. "Yeah," you choked nervously. "Please do."

He smiled before diving in for another chaste kiss and climbed down the bed. His hands came up to grab your thighs from the underside of your knee and pulled your body down so your butt was aligned to the edge of the bed.

Joshua got down on his knees and you propped yourself on your elbows on the mattress to follow his movements, his hands motioning your legs to rest on his shoulders, holding your thighs to help you do so.

"You have the prettiest pussy," he sighed before pressing his lips on your pussy lips, right before lapping his tongue on your folds with a broad stroke, his hands gripping your thighs decisively. 

You let your head hang back with a low cry of pleasure, sneaking one hand to grab at his hair again, holding for dear life. His tongue explored your cunt fully, not neglecting a single inch of skin, of your folds, drinking in your arousal. 

Joshua darted a look at you. Your head was thrown back and your chest was heaving slightly, only to suck in a breath as his tongue slowly made its way up from your entrance to your clit.

"Oh, god," you gasped when he started pushing his tongue against your clit gently, teasing it first to get it to swell. The sizzling sensation beneath your skin only intensified, making you moan through clenched teeth.

A hand climbed up from your thigh and parked on your lower tummy, palm pressing back on your skin just as his tongue swirled around your clit in swift figure eight motions, unrelenting in their pace, perfectly drawing you closer to the edge.

You eased back on the mattress, biting your lip to focus on the flicking of his tongue on your clit, the way it made the muscles of your inner thighs twitch in response to the sweet teasing. "Joshua, 'm close," you sighed.

Joshua hummed in response, applying more pressure to his large hand on your lower tummy, his low moan vibrating against your sensitive bud.

You slowly fell apart, moaning his name loudly as your sweet orgasm sizzled beneath your skin, washing over you completely, making you tremble on his bed until you are half conscious.

"Joshua," you repeated his name over and over breathlessly. You had released his hair, laying languidly on the edge of his bed as you slowly came down from your high.

But Joshua wasn't done.

His tongue lapped between your folds, dipping into your entrance with a soft groan upon finding that your core throbbed for more. With a soft hum he returned to give your cunt a deep open kiss, making you flinch slightly.

"Josh, please," you breathed out. "I need you... right now." 

You sat up clumsily just as he detached his mouth from your cunt, a shudder going through you when you saw the glistening wetness dripping from his mouth and chin, which he wiped with the back of his hand.

"Come here," you motioned when he stood up and you reached out to hook your fingers on the band of his gray sweats, looking up to his eyes as you pulled both his boxers and sweats down for him to step out of them.

You grabbed his cock with one hand, rolling your hand over to his bulbous head, smearing the precum gathering on his slit to give him a few pumps. You brought his tip to your mouth, giving him shy kitty licks before darting a look to his eyes.

His hand brushed your hair gently before cupping the side of your head. "I thought you needed me, baby," he teased and nodded his head to the bed. "Lie back."

You crawled backwards on his large bed and lied back at the same time that he crawled on top of your body, slotting himself between your thighs with a sigh.

"Let me be on top," you breathed, bumping the tip of your nose against his before kissing him. "Please?"

Joshua looked at you with some amusement written in his eyes, he thought of a snarky remark, to tease you before giving into your request. But instead of that, he nodded and rolled over.

"Sit up," you asked softly, moving on your knees to straddle him.

Joshua smiled and sat up, his hands immediately reaching out to grab your waist. "What are you doing, baby?" he chuckled breathily as you sat on top of him, clumsily wrapping your legs around him.

"Just let me do this," you said with a furrowed brow, scooting so that you could align your core to his cock, guiding with your hand before pushing your hips to sheathe him inside you with one thrust.

"God," he breathed out, the tone of his voice raw as his head dropped on your shoulder. "Fuck, baby."

"D'you like that?" you asked innocently, swaying your hips gently against his and biting back a moan over how good he felt stuffed inside you.

He slowly lifted his head to face you. "Yeah, baby," he sighed with an embarrassed smile as he added: "I missed you."

You shuddered upon hearing his confession. "I m-missed you too, Josh."

"Yeah?" he mouthed.

You nodded shyly. "All the time," you admitted.

You realized that you didn't have to go fast to achieve a high, you were just fine with rutting against his hips, feeling every inch of his cock sheathed inside your warmth. The pleasure written on his face was enough for you to stifle a moan, biting your lower lip.

His dark eyes glimmered under the soft glow of the overhead lights of his room, you saw his mouth part a little before he blinked and dropped his head in your chest, muffling a raw moan in your tits. His hands firmly placed on your ass, pressing down each time you sank down on him.

"Leave him," he muttered against your chest, leaving a trail of kisses leading to your heart.

"Joshua," you whispered, your hand slid up his nape, feeling his soft black hair.

"Leave him," he asked again, now lifting his head from your chest to lock eyes with you. "Please."

You thought of telling him all of the implications of that action alone. Because you've thought about it, you wanted to. You've thought about it countless times but there was always something in the way.

"I'll help you," he swallowed hard. "I'll protect you."

"Joshua," you insisted again. "Please, don't. I can't get you more involved."

Joshua let out a breathy laugh. "I think it's a little too late for that, baby," he said slowly, his eyes glinting with some emotion as you kept bouncing gently on top of him.

You read his face, the honesty in his eyes as he kept looking at you. "Are you sure?" you muttered, holding onto his shoulders with your hands to keep your pace steady.

But he held you through, guiding the sway of your hips with his pretty hands. He nodded with his head. "I've never been more sure about something."

A sharp pain twisted inside your chest, you shuddered and rested your forehead on top of his. "Why? What changed?" you whispered against your better judgment. But you needed this.

"I want to do this," he said, but that wasn't the whole truth.

"I don't want this to hurt you in any way," you muttered.

"Come on, baby," Joshua smiled softly at you, his hands sliding up the line of your back wrapping his arms around you. "Don't go all sweet on me."

"Please Joshua," you insisted, a slight tinge of urgency humming in your tone and you pulled your forehead back to see his face fully.

Joshua's mind began to reel. He considered two things, his most instinctive reaction was to lie and deflect the very evident truth (though not to you) that he was in love with you. The second one, and one that he wasn't too keen on, was to just tell you later.

His hands traveled down to your lower back, grabbing your hips to help you move on top of him with more urgency. He didn't need to finish, but he was hoping he would distract you.

You dug your heels into the soft covers to anchor yourself and started pushing against his hips purposefully. "Why now? Tell me," you whispered. And he saw it in your eyes, you were already suspecting.

"Stay with me," he replied, his voice low but full of certainty.

"I'm not going anywhere, I told you I'd stay," you replied, your sweet voice taking a tinge of concern.

He shook his head slightly. "I don't want you to leave," he said through a ragged sigh. "Stay with me."

He knew he was crossing a line, he was about to find out if you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

Your eyes remained on his, and he wished for a second to know what you were thinking. The rolling of your hips came to a stop and Joshua thought that you'd get up and leave. His heart vibrated against his chest frantically.

You gave him a slow nod with your head, it was almost a mechanical movement. Okay, you mouthed, okay.

"Yeah?" he whispered, his eyebrow arching slightly. He licked his lips before bringing a hand up to cup your chin and kissed your lower lip softly.

You nodded with eagerness now. "Yeah," you let out a soft laugh. "Why, where does this come from?" you asked.

"What do you mean?" he hummed, egging you to retake the movement of your hips, wanting to feel your tight walls sliding on him again.

You tilted your head back as Joshua moved his lips down your chin, trailing along the line of your jaw. And you let your eyes close to focus back to the motion of your hips, his hard cock on your fluttering walls and you moaned when his lips reached your throat.

"You were meant to be mine," he murmured against your skin. "He was introducing you to me, before everything."

Jake was supposed to introduce you to Joshua. But then he decided he wanted you for himself and you didn't meet Joshua until you were already dating your husband. And it was fine by him, he thought nothing of it at first.

But then he got to meet you.

"You are..." Joshua dipped his face on the crook of your neck, letting out a soft sigh against your skin. "You are the sweetest girl I've ever met."

His lips left an open kiss on your throat, making you squirm a little and moan. Your hand shifted from the back of his head to cup his cheek and you leaned your head, breathing erratically due to the movement of your hips on him.

"Leave him," he said again, but now you felt like you were losing him to a frenzied trance. His eyes were doing that thing again, glimmering under the soft lighting of the room.

"I will, I'll leave him," you hummed and your heart stuttered, breaking over the man that was looking at you like a lost puppy.

He moaned softly when you captured his lips with your own, his hands held your body, shifting to feel your skin, your back, your arms, until they parked at your thighs, kneading softly at the rhythm of the gentle sway of your hips.

"Joshua," you sighed a moan with some urgency.

Joshua turned your body over, pressing your back onto the mattress and slotting himself between your parted thighs to sink into your walls again with a loud groan from his part.

Now on top of you, he could do what he hadn't had the chance to until that moment. As he pulled his hips back, to then press against yours again, his cock dragging in and out of you, fucking you slowly, he could only think of one thing.

"Let me love you," he muttered with a raw tone, looking into your eyes, his hand met your cheek. "Be mine."

A sob coiled in your throat, making his eyes shift to your mouth and back to your eyes. He knew he had struck something in you, and he knew what you felt.

You gave him a fucked out nod, parting your mouth but no words came out.

"Mn? D'you want me to love you?" he asked with a honeyed purr, a smile stretching his pretty lips when you nodded again. "Are you mine?"

"Yeah, yeah," you whimpered between gasps he drew out with each thrust.

He grabbed your leg, hiking your knee up his shoulder to push deeper into you again with a loud cry of pleasure from your part, making tears gather on the corners of your eyes as he started sinking his cock in your walls again.

"I'm gonna love you," he gasped, the enunciation alone robbing him of air as he slowly pushed himself into a mad love surge for you.

Pleasure bloomed inside your body, inundating you with overwhelming waves, your mouth parted further and your brows knitted. The hand that wasn't holding onto him cupped his cheek, driving his gaze to yours.

"Are you gonna come, baby?" he hummed, enjoying the look on your face when you were close.

"Yeah," you gasped out lewdly, closing your eyes to welcome in the sweet wave of pleasure that shot through you briefly. "'m so close."

"Mmn, yeah baby? Gonna come with me?" he grunted, pushing his cock into your walls, his lip quivered slightly, letting out a raw moan through. "Want me to come inside you?"

"Yeah, please. Please, Josh," you whined pathetically, letting out a strangled moan as you slowly started to lose control, sweet pleasure washing over you, making your thighs shake. "Ohh god, mn, 'm gonna–'m–,"

"I know, I know, baby," he replied gently, feeling your walls clamping down around his cock, your warmth swallowing him, tipping him over the edge too. Joshua moaned in your mouth, spilling himself into you with deep hard thrusts.

"Joshua," you squirmed under the weight of his body as he fucked you through your long and sweet orgasm, making a mess on the bed covers.

With a couple of sloppy thrusts, he waited until you stopped shaking to ease your leg back to the mattress, carefully and pressed his chest against yours. He decided to remain quiet, relaxing into the gentle shock of confessing so much in a span of a couple of minutes.

But he just turned his head, bumping the tip of his nose against the underside of your jaw before pressing a kiss on your skin. Breathing tiredly under his weight you caressed his back with your hands, feeling his soft skin and you let out a soft hum.

"Should we... let's get cleaned up," you muttered after some time, breaking the peaceful silence.

The weight of his body between your legs had started to cause some discomfort around the joints of your hips, but even then you didn't want him to break away from you.

With heavy reluctance, Joshua peeled from your body, climbing off the bed and offered you his hand again to follow him down the hall and to the bathroom, where you washed.

"I can lend you some of my clothes," he offered quietly when you came back to his bedroom, wrapped in one of his bathrobes.

He finished putting on some black boxers when he raised his head and found you standing in front of his large bed. He sat down on one corner, reaching over to you and wrapped his long fingers around your wrist to motion you between his thighs.

"Are you feeling a bit better?" he asked, reading your face, he saw that the color had returned to your lips.

"Yeah, I am," you whispered, caressing his shoulder with the palm of your hand. "I'm a bit scared, Josh."

"I know," he admitted, brushing your damp hair with his fingers and tucking it behind your ear carefully. "But we can plan this together. You're not alone."

That made your glimmering eyes lock with his. It felt like a blow to your chest to come to grips that Joshua was willing to help you and even more so, that he loved you.

"Thank you, Joshua," you said, the knot coiling in your throat stealing your voice. "For everything."

Joshua just nodded silently, bringing your hand to his lips to press soft kisses in your knuckles. "Let's sleep, okay? We'll plan tomorrow."

You wore one of his t-shirts to sleep, wrapped in his manly scent and his gray bed sheets.

At the beginning, you laid facing each other at arm's length. He assumed that you needed space, as it was the first time you slept with him.

So he was beginning to prepare for another sleepless night, but this time he was looking at the subject of his unrest. Even if you were right there with him, the pressing matter of getting you out of your failing marriage by any means necessary was causing him worry.

It took him several seconds to realize that you were still awake. Your eyes were closed, but you slowly moved your body closer to his, until your face nestled into the warmth of his neck. Joshua sighed with a smile and that made you tilt your head back so you could see his face.

"Go to sleep, baby," you whispered, looking at him fondly. "We'll plan tomorrow."

At that moment, he wrapped his strong arms around you, giving you a slow, languid kiss that went on until he couldn't kiss you anymore, until his body begged him to rest.

Joshua doesn't know how he managed to fall asleep in your arms, he believes that it was the gentle rhythm of your heartbeat that served as the best lullaby he could ever ask for.

He wished for more nights like this with you, though he wasn't sure when that would be possible.

Nor of the consequences it would bring.

› a/n: this was supposed to be a drabble

but to answer your question @thatgirlfromwindsor: i think joshua is an ass man. yeah 🤔

if you liked this, lemme know! a comment, a like, reblog, anything is appreciated! drop me an ask if you wanna, send me your filthy reqs, or not ᨐฅ💖

anyway now, i swear that next update will be city lights pt 8, i promise hehe

love you all (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)♡

toodles

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[mphoenix-7]

Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 7: The Cabin: Day 3

Summary: What starts out as a peaceful morning quickly turns steamy after an argument.

Word Count: 9,565

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, swearing, angst, strong language, arguing, smut, p in v, rough sex, hate sex, unprotected sex, fingering

A/N: Yeah, you read the warnings right. It’s time. When I tell you this chapter took days to write 😭 different parts got rewritten like four times. The final product is nothing like the drafts. Even editing it there was stuff added, and I got to the point where I just needed to stop and post it. Please enjoy!

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Bitter Allies • Part 7

The storm settled down about thirty minutes after you and Soap ate. It still continued to rain, but the thunder was moving off into the distance, and the wind had stopped completely. You were still forced to stay inside, but at least the worst of the storm had passed. You could look for the damages done tomorrow.

Soap laid down after he finished eating and just rested. You didn't say anything more to each other about his episode, and you didn't expect him to open up. It was a little different for everyone, but sometimes talking about it made it worse. With nothing better to do, you also laid down. The sound of the rain falling softly outside was eventually enough to lull you into sleep. 

The next morning, you'd gotten up super earlier. Given the fact you probably went to sleep around 1900 (or 7 pm) that made sense. Soap was still asleep when you got up. He was sleeping on his back, an opened black journal balanced on his chest, and a pencil still in his hand. His arms were bare, meaning sometime last night he'd probably stripped down to his underwear again.

Leaving him be, you got up and decide to see what the damages were from last night's storm. You moved both rocks away from the doors then went out the back door, closer to the lake.

There were tiny sticks everywhere in the back. Once they dried out, they'd be great for the wood stove inside. A few larger branches were also scattered about. The one that caused the loud scrapping noise last night had just barely missed the outhouse, and its limbs were propped right up against the side of the cabin. If it'd fallen a few inches closer, it would have hit the roof. You hate to think about what would have happened if it had.

Hopefully this was the last of the rain for a while. You weren't sure if you could take another storm, and shockingly, not because of Soap. Honestly it hadn't been the absolute worst thing to be trapped inside with the Scot. It'd mostly just been boring. But then again Soap had been out of it most of the night because of the episode he had. You had feeling things would have ended in a shouting contest if he hadn't. Regardless, you didn't want that or for him to get triggered by another thunderstorm.

Luckily, the sun was out, birds were singing, and there wasn't a raincloud in sight. It was beautiful out, and you wanted to enjoy the morning. You hadn't had the chance to go on a walk or a run yet. It would be nice to start off your morning positive for once, unlike the last few days.

To be expected after a storm, it was fairly muddy, puddles of water everywhere. The lake had also risen quite a bit with the new water level came right up to the tree where Soap had been sitting yesterday. So a walk along the shore wasn't going to be possible, but you could handle a little mud in the woods. Heading back inside to the bedroom, you make the decision to go on a nice walk around the woods.

Soap is still asleep on his cot, his brows pinched together slightly, and his book still balanced on his chest. The pencil had slipped from his hand though and now just lay beside him. You move around the room as silently as you can, grabbing the things you need and trying not to wake him in the process. He'd make a sound every now and then, but he never woke up.

Once you were ready, you pause at the bedroom door and look over to his sleeping form. You were debating if you should wake him up to let him know you were going. He hadn't given you that courtesy before. Maybe it was time for a little payback. Time for him to wake up and not know where you are. Odds are though, you'd be back before he's even up. Or he simply wouldn't care.

With that in mind, you gently shut the bedroom door, and head off for your walk.

***

For the first time since arriving to the cabin with Soap, you finally feel some of the stress melting away as you walk through nature. It smells like dirt and rain, and it's absolutely perfect. Even the tension is your shoulders seems to be easing up a bit as well.

You're not sure how long you've been gone. There was no way to keep track of time. At some point though, you decide to turn around and start head back the way you came. You didn't want to go too far from the cabin in case you got lost.

As you're stepping over a fallen tree you used as a landmark to let you know you are heading in the right direction, you hear some rustling coming from some densely packed foliage behind you. You pause for a moment, watching the now still bush. Just as you're about to brush it off as nothing, you swear you hear a growl or a grunt. Adrenaline floods your system, triggering your fight or flight instincts. In this case, you go with the ladder reflex.

Jumping off the falling tree trunk, you start to walk with a quicker pace, trying to distance yourself from whatever you heard. The thought of it being a bear or a mountain lion crossing your mind, making a new fear run down your spine. Sure, you were highly trained in stuff like hand-to-hand, but your expertise was in protecting yourself against humans and maybe dogs, not wild animals. If you had a gun, then yes, you could absolutely take on a wild animal, but you didn't even so much as have a knife on your person to defend yourself with.

As you walk, you keep looking back over your shoulder, though you never see anything. While you are distracted and not looking where you're going, you suddenly step in something squishy. Stopping and looking down, you discover you've stepped in what is probably bear poop. A big fresh pile.

You gag a bit and remove your foot, trying to desperately kick and wipe it off on the foliage and nearby trees. The shit on your shoe distracts you momentarily from the thing you'd been trying to get away from. It's when you hear more of the rustling and sniffing sounds that your blood runs cold.

You look around again, still not seeing anything. The greenery around you is far too dense to get a good view. You know you have to get away, but not knowing what the threat was is really beginning to freak you out.

Forgetting about your soiled shoe, you start to walk again, trying to fight the urge to run. Rationally, you knew that could cause whatever it is that's following you to start chasing you. You just want to be back in the safety of the cabin with Soap. Why didn't you bring one of the flares or the knife? It was just a pocket knife, but it would have been better than nothing. 

Once some distance has been made, you pause and listen to see if you're safe. You can still hear the soft low rumbles and the shuffling of leaves like something is tracking you. Soon enough, you can't help it anymore; you start to run. You've got to be almost back by now. Surely you can just outrun whatever it is.

It's hard to listen for anything chasing you while you're running, but every time you look behind you, you don't see anything. The bushes are moving, but you can't tell if it's cause you just slammed through them or if you're really being chased. Not wanting to know the answer, you don't dare to stop until you see the cabin.

Relief floods your system when you see the clearing that houses the cabin. The moment you cross the thresh hold, you expect to feel safe. However you don't. You look back towards where you just came from and watch for any signs that the mystery animal is still following you. There isn't any movement or sounds, only the labored sounds of your breath from running. Slowly, you start to back up towards the cabin, senses heightened.

When your back hits something solid, hands grabbing you, you don't process immediately that it's just Soap. Your mind is still in survival mode. You scream and start trying to fight, getting a few angry and surprised sounds out of the Scot.

"Oof-! Steaming fucking Jesus, States!"

Soap had gotten up shortly after you left. When he couldn't find you, he'd assumed you were out in the woods somewhere and just went about his morning. He also surveyed the damages and decided to pick up sticks until you came back.

When he heard a ton of rustling on one side of the cabin, he went to check it out, and there you were. Your back was to him and you were taking slow steps towards him. You'd been about to run into him, and all he did was put his hands up to stop you, and then you started attacking him.

"What the fuck has gotten into you!?" He grabs your wrists, and you're quick to stop trying to hit him once you come to your senses. You look into his eyes, then hear the sound of the leafs rustle again. Your gaze snaps back to the tree line.

"Something was following me. I-I think it was a bear. I ran all the way back." You find yourself pressing back into Soap. His hands move from your gripping your wrists to holding your sides by your ribs once you turn.

You don't notice it, but Soap stares down at you for a second as you huddle against him. His eyes are softened and filled with concern before turning hard as he scans the woods, looking for this bear. He keeps holding you, keeping your smaller frame close to him. You can feel his hold on you tighten a bit, almost protectively.

As he does, without even fully realizing it yourself, you're starting to relax into his hold. Your body is naturally pulling towards him. He's warm and feels like safety. It's when the fear in the pit of your stomach is replaced with butterflies that you notice all these feelings. You try to tell yourself it's just remnants of adrenaline.

When there's a little more rustling, Soap starts to wordlessly move. His hands drift to your hips, and he moves around you. "Stay here." He mutters to you, walking to the tree line, picking up a big stick along the way for protection.

"Soap, wait! What are you doing?" You really don't want to see him get mauled by a wild animal, but there's not much you can do to stop him aside from pick up a stick for yourself and try to help.

Soap pauses to listen carefully for any movement or signs of danger before poking the stick into the green shrubs in an attempt to startle whatever is in there. You tense up as he does, hands gripping your stick tightly, prepared to fight whatever it is he startles.

A little squeak comes from the bush, and Soap watches as a two squirrels dart back into the woods and up a tree. It causes a laugh to bubble in his chest, one he tries to stop, but soon, his hands are on his knees, and he is laughing at you. All you can do is stand there and glare at him, dropping your stick. It makes a dull thump as it hits the ground.

"It was just a few wee fucking cons! You were running from a squirrel!" He laughs, making your cheeks turn a deep shade of red. You're were not too fond of being laughed at.

"I wasn't running from a squirrel!! I heard growling and-"

Soap is still laughing at you. Any "butterflies" you might have had when he held you were crushed immediately. You hadn't been running from a squirrel. Whatever it was had been big and had a deep growl.

"It was a bear! I swear. I even stepped in its shit!" You motion down to your boot, which just looked muddy, but you knew better. "There was at least one nearby!" This just makes Soap laugh even harder.

"You stepped in bear shite too? Oh, that's too fucking good. I bet that fucking sucks." You don't feel like he's sympathizing with you at all. "Have fun cleaning that mess up. Let me know if you need me to scare off anymore angry, growling squirrels, eh lass?"

Your face is getting red with anger and embarrassment more and more by the second. "Stop laughing at me, you fucking dick! I know what I heard!" You shout at him. It had to have been a bear.

Soap sighs as he finally calms down a little, wiping his eyes like he's wiping away tears. His amused express is at restarting to grow a little irritated with your continued claims about the bear. "Oh quit your fussing! There's no bear here, so just pull that stick from out of your ass and calm down."

"How about you stop acting like I'm stupid! Like I'm making it all up, or I'm some paranoid idiot! Even if it was nothing, it still felt like I was being chased."

Soap rolls his eyes, huffing a little. "States, seriously, you're fine so let it go. Stop acting like a wee little girl and start acting like you're a grown ass woman in the military. Go inside, calm down a bit, and come help me pick up sticks."

You roll your eyes at him. You know what you heard. You know how you felt. He could say you got scared by squirrels, but you knew better.

"Go fuck yourself, Soap. I'm not helping you with shit. I'm hungry. I'm going to make food." You grumble, leaving him and stomping towards the cabin.

"Make me some too, aye?!" He calls after you. He was insufferable. You still have four more days of this. The third wasn't even close to being over.

"No!" You shout back, getting a scoff from him.

"Brat." He mutters under his breath as he watches you disappear around the side of the cabin.

You retreat to the cabin, kicking your poop covered shoe off by the door outside before you went in. You'd had enough of being in the woods for today. Outside for that matter. You were certain there was a bear out there somewhere, and you weren't looking to run into it again. If possible, you were content to stay inside and read the rest of the day.

You search around a little bit for something good to eat, eventually settling on making some eggs. Putting a log and a few sticks in the stove, you get a fire going. You set the only frying pan you had on the stove top and wait for it to heat up. Once it does, you take out the eggs and flip the carton open.

Before you can grab one, a scratching sound near the front door makes you jump. You're tense for only a few seconds before huffing and relaxing. It had to just be Soap messing with you.

"Fuck off, MacTavish!" You shout, trying to go back to your cooking, but it keeps happening. Sighing in annoyance, you storm over to the front door. "Soap, I swear, I'm going to kill you if you keep it up!" You shout angrily, pushing the door open, but not seeing any sign on the Scot.

You venture outside a little more, but you don't see him anywhere. What if he wasn't the one messing with you? What if it was the animal from earlier? An uneasy feeling settles over you.

"Soap?" You call out softly, but you get no reply. You even try to peak around the cabin to see if he was hiding by the sides. When you don't spot him, you begin to feel more on edge. Groaning in frustration, telling yourself not to worry, you head back inside.

You pick up the egg carton and try to resume your cooking, though you're still tense and on edge. You'd just managed to pop the lid on the eggs open when Soap comes bolting out of the bedroom. He's making a big scene, growling and snarling, almost like he's pretending to be a bear.

The second he does, your heart is leaping into your throat and you scream. Adrenaline surges through you as you instinctively use the thing in your hand as a weapon. Soap is pretty much right behind you by then, and your muscles react faster than your mind can process. You smash the small paper carton into his chest with all your might, the impact causing most of eggs to burst out of their shells, yolks splattering across his shirt and dripping onto the floor.

Soap stumbles back a step, a mixture of surprise, shock, and anger prominent on his features as he looks down at his shirt. As he does, the box falls to the ground. Any eggs that hadn't broken certainly did as it hit the hard wooden floor.

Your body is buzzing, and your heart is hammering in your chest as you look down at the carton, equally shocked. All of your eggs are gone. Meanwhile, Soap is standing there mirroring your expression. His jaw is dropped, and his clean shirt is splattered with a generous dose of raw eggs. You both stand in stunned silence, until all hell breaks loose.

"Jesus, States!" Soap exclaims, wiping the yolky mess off his chest and onto the floor. "Why the fuck would you do that?! Why did you toss the whole damn carton at me!? That's literally the best fucking thing we have to eat!"

You're in shock. He's really going to get mad at you?

"You're joking right now?" You inquire, raising your eyebrows at him. "Tell me you are joking! You're gonna get mad at me when you're the one who fucking just scared the shit out of me!?"

"I didn't think you'd freak the fuck out and throw all our fucking eggs at me!"

"I didn't think you'd be acting like a child and trying to pull a pathetic prank on me! You scared me for no fucking reason!"

"Oh for the love of God, woman," he growls. "Get a sense of humor! It'd do you some good. Now we have no eggs and my shirt is fucking ruined! I only brought four pairs! I don't have a washing machine or an endless supply of shirts at my disposal!"

"You'd still have a clean shirt if you weren't such a jerk!" You shout back, hands clenching into fists at your sides.

"It was a bloody joke! What about you? Thought you were supposed to be a field specialist. Couldn't hear me coming? Didn't know something was up? Are you that fucking bad at your job?" Soap was pissed at this point to be taking jabs at your line of work.

You laugh, the sound lacking any amusement. All that was there was pure rage and spite. "The hell did you say? I'm not good at my job?" You ask lowly. "I reacted like anyone would when they're scared out of their mind! Forgive me for assuming I wouldn't have to be on guard around someone who is on the same team as me!"

"Ah, don't start with that shite again." He grumbles, rolling his eyes and beginning to walk away.

"Don't you dare fucking walk away from me, MacTavish! I'm not done with you!" You follow after him, moving to block his path. He's trying to head into the bedroom.

Soap glares down at you as you stand in his way. His chest was rising and falling in heavy breaths. "I'd fucking like to get a clean shirt," he growls, gesturing to his chest, still smeared with the remnants of the eggs. "So move."

He doesn't give you a chance to move on your own. He pushes you back into the bedroom and off to the right side of the room where your cot is, simmering in anger.

God, he was so livid. He just wanted to get his shirt and get out of this cabin before he did something he'd regret. Tension had been building rapidly between you since day one. Ghost's words had been haunting him for the last three days, and it was all he'd been able to think about.

You two just need to fuck and get it out of your system.

"Don't push me!" You growl, shoving Soap's hands off you even as he's retracing them.

"Then get the fuck away from me! Leave!" Soap shouts, ripping his shirt off over his head and throwing it to the ground.

"Really? You're telling me to leave when you're the one who started this?!"

"Yeah, I am! So fuck off!" He seethes, storming over to your shared dresser and pulling out a clean shirt for himself.

He doesn't wait to put the shirt on, instead just making a break for the door. You're far too upset to just let him leave though. Moving fast, you block the doorway again, a hand on each side of the frame, trapping Soap inside. Though he could easily plow right through you if he wanted, he just glares down at you.

"Get out of the way, States."

"You know, maybe if you were a better teammate we wouldn't be in this mess! It's your fault we're in this damn cabin anyway!" You point a finger at him, poking him in the chest and adding to his annoyance.

The second you poke him, he snaps. He was so fucking done with this. His patience was hanging by a thin thread, and you just cut it with a knife. In a flash, he grabs your wrist, twisting it so that your finger is pulled away from his chest. His grip was firm, but not painful as he forces you to walk backwards into the kitchen. He glares at you, his blue eyes icy and filled with anger.

"You know what, States?!" He barks, his voice deep and filled with venom. "You think you're so bloody perfect, don't you? Well, let me tell you something, you're not! You mess up all the fucking time! Just like how you messed up in Naryn!"

He moves closer, his face inches from yours. You could feel his hot breath against your skin, see the fury burning in his eyes. Your chest as heaving as you stare up at him.

"Why do hate me so damn much! Tell me, Soap. What did I ever do, that from day one, I became the one person you're ever an asshole to?!" You shout back at him, making him groan and roll his eyes.

"I'm not doing this right now." He growls, releasing your wrist and turning to retreat, but you want answers. You follow right after him and block his exit yet again, making his fists clench as his sides.

"No! You're going to answer me!"

"States."

"Why do you hate me?!"

"Move."

"Or what?" You challenge, not aware how close Soap is to snapping. Your eyes are locked on each other, each refusing to look away.

You're both breathing heavily, and the tension in the cabin is building to a very unstable level the longer you hold eye contact. The very thin string that's been keeping you apart is slowly breaking, snapping slowly until there's just the most fragile thread holding everything together.

Then Soap looks down at your lips, his eyes the knife that makes it all come shattering apart. Before he could think twice, before he can rationalize it, he grabs your face, leans down, and captures your lips with his in a rough, angry kiss. It was spontaneous, impulsive, and probably a terrible idea. But in that moment, he didn't give a damn.

You stand there in shock.

He's kissing you.... Soap MacTavish was kissing you....

It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was rough. All teeth and tongue and force.

It was confusing. It made your head spin, making you feel instantly dizzy. But you didn't want to pull away.

You hesitate only for a moment before grabbing his head in both of your hands and pulling his lips harder against yours. Your body presses right up against his as you meet each of his kisses with a fury of your own.

Soap is taken aback by your response. He fully expected you to pull back, slap him, yell at him. But instead, your hands are tangling in his short hair, pulling him in closer.

Well, fuck.

He deepens the kiss, his hands slipping down to circle your waist, pulling you flush against him, your arms circling his neck, keeping his lips on yours. You could feel the heat radiating off him, your chest pressed against his, your nails digging into his scalp. It was intoxicating, maddening, and thrilling.

Your mind was a whirlwind of confusion, anger, and desire. You bite down on his lip and barely register the small, primal sound of satisfaction that rumbles in Soap's throat as you do. His hands move from pressing you against him to gripping your hips. With a grunt, Soap is pushing you back against the closest wall he can find. Your lips pop apart for just a second before he's smashing his back against yours.

He pins you against the wall with his body while your hands eagerly run down his chest and torso. Every time he moves, his muscle flex under his skin. You can’t take your hands off him.

His hands can’t seem to help exploring either. They restlessly roam every inch of you he can touch. Eventually, his hands find the hem of your shirt, and he wastes no time in getting the chance to feel the soft skin of your torso.

The thin fabric of your shirt offers little resistance as he slips his hands underneath it. You feel his roughened fingertips trace up your sides, moving until he reaches your breasts. He cups both of your breasts through your bra, giving them a firm squeeze before gently kneading them. You gasp against his lips, a soft, needy whine leaving you.

Oh hell...

Soap is in deep now. He doesn't care about the consequences, about what this might mean for you both. At this moment, all he wants is you.

"States," he murmurs against your lips, his voice hoarse with desire. It sends a shiver down your spine, and you open your eyes as your lips part a little.

He's still so close to you, his breath coming out in hot huffs against your lips and mixing with your own. His eyes are locked onto yours, his gaze darkened and pupils blown. Like he’s a starved man staring down an animal he wants to devour. It’s almost too intense. Your eyes leave his, flicking down to his lips for a second. They’re red and glossy from your intense make out. You’re sure yours look the same to him.

You don’t get to admire his swollen lips for long. The moment you break eye contact, he strikes. His lips are back on yours, a deep groan leaving him when you instantly return his kiss.

His hands have left your breasts, quickly trailing down your body to grope your plump round ass. He gives both cheeks a firm squeeze, pulling you away from the wall just a bit. One hand moves up to the curve of your spine, the other staying on your butt cheek. He then grinds his hips against you, pulling you tight against him as he does.

You moan at the friction, able to feel him through his pants. He's getting hard right against your thigh as he shamelessly squishes you into his growing erection. His hips are gently humping into you, and you want to move too, but he’s holding you far too tightly.

You didn't think you'd ever be in this position. Kissing, let alone dry humping, on Soap MacTavish. Yet here you are, locking lips with him in some kind of sick, hate filled dance.

Not able to move much, you move a hand to the back of Soap’s neck and gently, but firmly, dragging your nails from the base of his skull to the side of his neck. It pulls a shuddery moan from him and makes his hips lose their rhythm.

Soap suddenly pulls away a little, slamming you back against the wall once more. You grunt as he does, pain radiating up your back. With how much he was slamming you around, you were gonna be so bruised tomorrow.

"You fucker." You growl, hands moving to grab his hips as he presses them back into you. He starts to grind once more, a deep chuckle emitting from him.

"You deserved that one." He says, voice almost shaky with lust.

"The hell did I do?" You ask breathily as he leans back in, kissing at the side of your throat. He trails the wet sloppy kisses right up to your ear, his breath hot and voice husky as he offers up an answer.

"You've been driving me fucking mad for six months." He growls lowly, his teeth nipping at your earlobe.

You moan softly, his words making the throbbing between your legs so much worse. You press them together, but it doesn’t little to stop the ache.

Soap starts to trail his kisses urgently back down your knee, teeth dragging and lips making delicate popping sounds as he sucks a few marks here and there. You moan quietly into his ear, placing a hand on the back of his head as your eyes flutter shut.

Suddenly, he bites down, rather hard, making you gasp and wince. It hurt like hell, but also ignited some hidden pleasure you hadn’t known existed.

“Ahhh, fuck!” You moan, legs buckling, nails digging into Soap’s shoulder to keep yourself from falling.

Soap grabs your hips before you can fall, slotting one of his own thighs between yours. He begins to gently rock you against him, soothing that ache with each rub against his flexed muscle. It pulls a satisfied moan from your lips as he grins at you.

"Oh, there you go, lass." He mumbles, leaning in to kiss at the spot he’d bitten. "That feel better? You like that?"

"Ass." You sigh, gripping his arms as you shamelessly start grind on his thigh to get some relief.

He chuckles at your remark, his teeth nipping at your jawline. "Such a brat. You drive me fucking mad, States, you know that?" He growls, his voice low and lustful.

"Yeah, you don't exactly make me sane either." You growl right back at him, making him laugh deeply.

He removes his thigh completely then, making you whimper at the loss. Your legs instantly buckle again, hands holding onto Soap to keep yourself upright. His hands move to your hips almost instantly, steading you and pressing you back against the wall.

"I can't wait to fuck that sense back into you." His lips collide with yours once more in a bruising kiss. It's dizzying the way he kisses you. And when he bites your lip, making you hiss, and he grins about it. Oh you hated him. Cocky bastard.

His hands move from pinning your hips to the wall, to tracing alone the hemline of your pants. As he is kissing you, he starts to unbutton your pants and yank them down. They only make it to your mid thigh before getting stuck. He growls against your lips, muttering something about you, "always being so fucking difficult."

Your mind is too fuzzy to realize what Soap is doing until he's doing it. Your body jerks, and you gasp when you hear the sound of your pants ripping. Your eyes fly open, and you give him a rough shove to view the damage he's done. The seam right between your legs has been torn almost completely in half.

Your jaw drops as you stare down at your pants in shock. You don’t even realize that his arms are snaking around behind you to finish the job. When he gives it another forcible rip, you snap.

"Oh my God! Soap! Are you serious right now?!" You shout at him, the brain fog of sex clearing up quickly. You can't believe he's just destroyed your pants.

"You ruin my shirt, I ruin your pants. Maybe you can use these as rags when you clean up those eggs."

"Like hell I'm not! You're out of your mind if you think I'm going to be the one cleaning that up. They wouldn't be there in the first place if you hadn't scared me!"

"Yeah, but you're still the one who threw them."

"I can't help it if my fucking reflexes are triggered! If I clean it up, I'm cleaning it with your clothes, you bast- ahh~" You try to threaten him, but your words are cut short when his fingers find your clit. His thumb has slipped under your panties and is rubbing quick little circled right onto the sensitive thing.

Soap laughs as your words trail off, slowly backing you against the wall as you turn to putty under his touch.

"Oh, steaming Jesus... you're already fucking soaked for me." He growls out, eyes training on where his thumb is moving in your underwear before turning his attention back to you. "You that desperate to get your hands on my clothes, sweetheart?"

You huff at his accusation. "That's not what I said, and you know it." You say through clenched teeth, mind melting. "Your clothes smell like shit anyway. Little egg wouldn't hurt."

His hand shifts slightly then, and his middle finger prodding around just slightly before finding your slick entrance. It takes nothing for his finger to push into your velvety walls. He doesn't even give you a second to adjust to the feeling of his finger inside you. He's thrusting it in and out of you, using his palm to keep a steady pressure on your clit. 

"N... nah..." you try to talk but couldn't get the words out. The pleasure is so sudden, and when Soap hits that one spot, you don't even want to try to argue with him anymore.

"This all it take to get you to shut up?" Soap growls, his free hand gripping your hips tightly to keep you from moving. "Huh, States? Just needed someone to finger you real good? To fuck some manners into you?"

"Fuck. You..."

Your nails are digging into his forearms as his hand picks up speed, palm now slapping against your clit with each thrust of his fingers. You can feel the pleasure inside you, building and building. Like a faucet dripping into a bucket where the water is beading up at the rim, so close to breaking and pouring over the edge.

And you might have let yourself come if it weren't Soap who was the one trying to make you go over the edge. You don't want to give him the satisfaction of coming so soon, so easily on his just his fingers. Squeezing your eyes shut, you let out a long moan, trying desperately to hold on.

"Fuck, States," Soap growls, able to see just how close you are to giving in. He slows down enough to allow his thumb to find your clit once more, rubbing it in slow, hard circles to change up the pace. He wants to hear you moan, to see you lose control.

"Still think you won't clean it up?" He asked, smirking as your glare turns into your rolling your eyes back as he presses his finger right into the place he knew had been making you squeeze down on his finger. Your hips instantly buck against his hand when he does, telling him he had the right spot.

Shifting slightly so his hip is pinning your leg, he brings his now free hand to your throat, which makes you tense a bit. Your breath hitches, expecting him to squeeze and close your airway, but he's holding it gently, not squeezing. Leaning in, he starts to kiss at your lips again, slower this time, but still just as rough and mean.

His finger has stilled now, buried as deep as he can go. He starts to slowly stroke at the spongy tissue, curling his finger against the same spot over and over. He swallows every moan that leaves your lips, pressing himself harder against you when you fight for control by bucking your hips.

"If you promise to be a good girl," he speaks against your lips between harsh slow kisses. "And clean up the mess you made, then I'll let you come." He gives you a few more kisses, not letting you answer immediately. "You gonna be a good girl for me, States? You gonna shut the fuck up, listen, and do what I tell you to?"

He's looking right into your eyes, his hand still on your neck to keep your gaze on him. You were so tired of Soap having all the control. Tired of not being able to get a word in because he had his hands all over you. You growl at him, which just makes him grin.

In an attempt to level the playing field, you reach down to the now very prominent tent in his pants and grip him hard. Needless to say, you're very happy you'd been making eye contact with him when you do. It wipes the grin right off his face.

"Ahh, fuck!" Soap lips part as he lets out a strangled groan, eyes rolling back ever so slightly. His hips buck hard against your hand as you grip him, and he curses.

He feels a lot bigger than what you'd seen when you accidentally walked in on him naked. Then again, he also hadn't been fully erect then. His cock felt hot, heavy, and throbbing now.

His hand leaves your neck to grab at your wrist, gripping it, but not moving it, as you start to rub your palm against his bulge. He watches the action for a little bit, panting heavily, before turning his focus back on you. His hand starts to move again, thrusting into you in time with your rubbing.

Not one to let Soap of all people win, you start to unbutton his pants and reach down into his underwear to pull his rock hard cock free. Soap hisses as you do, and you can tell why the second he springs free. The tip of his cock is an angry red color. It shimmers slightly from the puddle of precum it's been sitting in while in his underwear, and another bead of it was already forming on the slit, getting ready to form into a little droplet and drip down.

Wasting no time, you get to work, stoking up and down his length, working the precum down his entire shaft. Once he's more slick, you start pumping him furiously, stopping every now and then to let your thumb focus on rubbing the sensitive skin under his tip.

And Soap is fucking loving it. He groans heavily, leaning forward and resting his forehead against your shoulder. "Oh fucking hell, lass. That's it..." He breathes, his hand now slamming back into your pussy in quick thrusts.

"I'm not cleaning up shit." You seethe, voice just above a whisper. Your disobedience earns yourself a stinging bit to the junction where your neck meets your shoulder. Soap's teeth dig into the soft flesh, and you moan out, a mix of pleasure and pain, right into Soap's ear.

The moans sets something off in Soap. He has to have you. Right here, right now. Nothing else mattered. He needed to feel you clamping down on him. He wanted to rid himself of all the tension from the past three days, clear his mind from the anger, burn it off by fucking you. He wants to make you feel good, feel pain, make you scream his name. And he will.

"You don't want to play nice?" He asks, pulling his hand free from your underwear and yanking your hand away from his cock. "Don't want to take responsibility still? Well that's fucking fine, sweetheart. Gonna fuck you so stupid you won't be able to form a single thought let along clean."

You have a retort, but you yelp before you can get it out. You're not sure how he does it, but in a quick movement, Soap has grabbed your legs, wrapped them around his hips, and has you up off the floor. His cock is now resting right in the crease of your ass, your back is still pinned against the wall, and your arms quickly circle his neck for support. The last thing he does is adjust his grip on you, both hands moving to support your ass.

"Doubtful." You egg him on, making him pause to look at you. "You couldn't even make me come on your fingers. What makes you think your cock will be any better?"

Soap glares at you, a snarl forming on his face. "I could've made you come on my fingers, but I'd rather feel you come around my cock."

You rolls your eyes at him. "Bet you'll come before I do."

The glare on his face morphed into a grin that spread slowly onto his face. His member twitches against your ass, and you almost wish you hadn't said what you just said. It was a challenge now, and Soap loved proving you wrong.

"Really?" He snarled, a dangerous glint in his eyes. He shifts you around in his arms, cock dragging along your ass as he pulls his hips back. His tip leaves a cool wet trail. "Let's see if you still think that when you're coming around my cock." You feel the push of his velvety, hot tip as it drags through your folds, lining himself up. "You better brace yourself." He warns, his tone dark and dangerous.

"You better not-”

He pushes into you then. A single, quick thrust of his hips, and his thick length is splitting you in half, filling you completely. You throw your head back against the wall, your breath getting caught in your lungs. Even as slick as you are, it's by no means painless. The sudden intrusion makes your entire body tense as it tries to accommodate him.

"Breathe, States." He instructs, thumbs rubbing circles onto your thighs. At least has the decency to pause for a moment and slowly work his cock the rest of the way into you instead of just ramming you again. By simply lifting your legs a little further up on his hips, you finish sliding down onto him.

His hips are flush with yours, your clit just kissing his hair covered pelvis. You sigh and gasp when your clit meets up with him, the bud still very sensitive. Soap takes a moment to rock you against him, giving your clit a little more stimulation.

"There bonnie. That's better isn't it?" He moans, the gentle rocking feeling good for him too. "Ohh fuck.." He sighs, pressing his forehead to the side of your neck. "You’re so tight."

"That fucking hurt, you fucking ass." You curse him when your breathing finally evens out a bit. That's Soap cue you're ready for more.

"Oh, you're fine. It'll feel good." He readjusts his grip, moving his hands to your thighs, preparing for the harsh fuck he's about to give you.

He wastes no time, dragging his hips back, only leaving his tip inside you, before snapping up into you, starting a brutal pace. You groan loudly, throwing your head back as he slams into you. Each thrust creates a smacking sound as his hips collide with yours. You grip his shoulders tightly, nails digging into his shoulders and clenching your teeth as you wait for the drag of his cock to feel good.

Soap is already enjoying himself, moaning and panting against your neck. "I'm going to ruin you, States.." He breathes against your skin, his voice a low growl. "Feels so fucking good..."

Then it's like a switch has been flipped. The drag of his cock goes from a dull ache to feeling incredible. He's hitting something in you that's taking your breath away in the best possible way. Once the pleasure starts, there is no more holding back.

A moan tore through your vocal cords, head falling back against the wood behind you. Your walls burn as they stretch and flutter, seeming to form perfectly around his cock. The second Soap has you moaning, he goes harder. His hips piston up into you, making your back slam against the wall. It's probably going to make you so sore later, but fuck you don’t care right now.

Soap is starting to sweat already from his efforts. It's also hot in the cabin. Normally he props the doors open during the day for air flow, but he's not about to stop to do that now. He doesn't want to stop. He doesn't want to look away from you. His eyes stay locked on your face the whole time. Your eyes are shut, your mouth hanging out as moan after moan pour from your lips.

He was out of his mind. Fuck Ghost for always being right. Fuck him for putting this idea in his head.

"Ahhh.. Soap!" You moaning his name is almost his undoing. His hips stutter, and he has to focus on not finishing right then and there. His needs to get you off. Now.

Moving his fingers back your clit, he starts to frantically rub your little nub, making you cry out. Fire is coursing through you, everything is wound too tight.

"Come on, States,” he pants, “That's it. I know you're close, lass. I can feel you fucking trying to milk me. Just let go for me. I know you want to." He coaxes, his voice a low growl.

"Fuck!" You curse, his dirty talk really starting to drive you towards the edge. Your legs are shaking as they lock around him, your clit is burning as he continues to rub it. Harsh slaps filled the cabin as Soap's hips continue to met yours, squishing sounds echoing as his cock penetrates you over and over and over again.

"Come for me lass." Soap commands, his voice firm and leaving no room for argument. “Come for me right now.”

"I... fucking.. hate you. So damn much." You growl, tears gathering in your eyes from the intense orgasm about your hit. And then you come, relief flooding your veins. All the tension eases up, all your stress is gone. Melting away as each pump of Soap's cock drags out the waves of pleasure.

"Yeah, scream it louder!” Soap pants, pushing harder, slamming you down on him. “There you fucking go. That's it! That's fucking.. Fuck, States!"

Soap feels your walls act like a vice around his member. One squeeze from you is all it takes to drag him towards his own finish. He needed to feel his own release, to feel himself come undone inside you.

As you start to come off your high, Soap is desperately chasing his own, ignoring how your body is starting to relax. He thrusts harder, faster, fingers digging into your flesh as he holds you up.

All you can do is grab his shoulders and hold on for dear life as he buries his face into your shoulder, his stubble ticking you. Your walls are still fluttering in aftershocks, moans and heavy breaths still pouring your lips as Soap fucks you.

Soap is close, you can tell. His breath hitches, his body tensing as he nears his own climax. His thrusts became more erratic, more desperate. He could feel it building, the pleasure coiling in his stomach, ready to explode. With one last hard thrust, he comes, shooting his load deep inside you.

He groans heavily into your ear, his cock twitching as the hot ropes of his come paint your insides. He’s finished after three more thrusts, his body shuddering as he pushes into overstimulation. He keeps his forehead against your shoulder, panting heavily while he recovers. He can still feel your walls fluttering around him, could still feel the aftershocks of your orgasm.

You cling to him, his hold on you just as tight as the waves of pleasure start to fade for you both. Now that your mind is no longer foggy with lust, something heavy settles in your gut.

What the hell you've just done…

"Fuck," Soap curses, his voice raspy and hoarse.

You feel him shift his hips, allowing his softening member to slip out of you, making you wince. He all but drops your legs, letting them fall from around his waist. You wobble as you try to find your footing, and he pushes you to lean against the wall before taking a step back himself.

You cling to the wall as your shared release begins to drip out of you, running down your thighs and splattering onto the floor. You're panting, as is Soap, as you both try to rationalize what's just happened. Dread and regret settle in the pit of your stomach.

Soap tucks himself back into his pants and runs a hand over his face, looking anywhere but at you. You feel so fragile in this moment as you watch him, waiting for his next move.

"Soap?" You whisper, desperate for him to say something. To talk about what just happened, to tell you what this means. But as Soap looks at you, his eyes harden.

"Go clean yourself up. And all that too while you're at it." He points to the eggs and to the floor under you, his voice cold and distance. He turns to leave, shoving the cabin door open and going God knows where.

Your voice catches in your throat, hurt by his words. You want to stop him, run after him, but you can't. You're in shock, your legs are weak, and you're starting to realize just how much you fucked up.

One second you're in an intense argument with Soap, the next you're fucking each other raw. And now you’re all alone, wondering what hell you just did.

***

Soap needed air. Now. He just made the biggest mistake of his life, and you're looking at him with the most scared and confused eyes. Wondering so many things, things he doesn't have answers for.

"Go clean yourself up. And all that too while you're at it." He tells you. He knows there's no reason to treat you this way. Especially since he's the one who initiated sex with you, but he's so mad at himself right now. Mad for letting himself give in. And even worse, now you look hurt.

He needs air. 

Soap rushes outside, shoving the door firmly like it purposely got in his way. He stands on the porch, running his hands over his face. Trying to calm down. He just needs to breathe for a minute.

Ghost was right about one thing. The orgasm you just pulled from him did release all his tension. Like it was as simple as cutting a single thread. The thing he neglected to tell him was that after all that tension and stress was released, a different kind of tense would creep in.

Actually Soap supposed he was 100% right. Ghost never did say a thing about what it would be like after.

Fuck Ghost…

Soap wants to run. To leave and never come back. But as much as he can't stand you, Soap can't bring himself to leave. Not after your first night together, not after seeing how scared you got. No, as much as he wants to, you are still his squadmate. No man left behind. He can't leave anyone else behind...

However, he is equally aware that he needs time to himself to process everything. Work through some stuff in his head before you talks to you. He should at least help you clean up though. What kind of a guy would he be if he just fucked a girl and left her to clean up the mess. He was already planning on leaving for a few hours to clear his head, he might as well make sure you're somewhat ok before he goes. So you won’t be so stressed.

Sighing, hoping this will just blow over, that somehow you'll never to talk about it, he turns to go back into the cabin.

***

After about a minute of clinging onto the wall, you find enough strength to move. The first thing you do is wiggle out of your destroyed pants and use them to wipe between your legs. Your underwear was still on, but you want to change into a fresh pair. A lot of your arousal had stained them and some of Soap's come had gotten on them when he pulled out.

Once you're clothed again, you make your way back into the kitchen and look down at the white and clear stains on the floor. You want to clean up that stain before anything else. Wipe away the evidence of your coupling. However, you know it's not going to do much. The soreness between your legs is a constant reminder of what happened.

You kneel down, and right as you're about to grab your pants and use them to mop up the mixture of your and Soap's release, the door opens again. You're frozen as Soap walks through, his eyes on you at first. An awkward tension fills the space, and you look away from him, picking at one of the loose strings on your destroyed pants.

Soap finally moves, stepping past you to get to the bedroom and coming out a second later with his egg covered shirt. He kneels down in front of you and uses the sleeve of his shirt to start wiping up the cum stain. Once it's mostly gone, aside from the dampness causing the wood to be two different shades, he moves on to pick the eggs box up and takes it outside.

You get up and start to clean up the eggs while he's gone, knowing you're going to have to talk about what happened sooner or later. You couldn't just fuck each other and act like nothing happened. Especially with the history you and Soap had.

When Soap comes back, you find yourself tensing up once more, the awkward air returning. He pauses in the doorway, but you can't bring yourself to look up him. Eventually, he joins you on the floor, helping you mop up the eggs.

Once the area is clean, or mostly clean (the eggs left a residue), you finally look up at Soap. You open your mouth, wanting to talk to him about everything, but he speaks first.

"I'm gonna head out for a bit. Few hours." He says, moving to stand up.

You want to run after him, tell him to stay so you can talk things out, but a part of you is too ashamed to go after him. You felt like you'd already lost your dignity and running after him would just make you feel even more pathetic.

“Ok…”

You let him leave, the creak of the front door sealing the decision. The moment the door closes, a wave of anguish crashes over you. Now that he's gone, you can finally let the tears fall. The confusion, the anger at yourself, the regret, the shame—all of it eats at you until you're exhausted. You bury your face in your hands, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Soap is gone for hours again. It's getting dark, but you can't bring yourself to care as much as you did the first time. Having some time away from him to cry and work out the emotions was actually kind of nice. But the loneliness creeps in, wrapping around you like a cold, suffocating blanket. You curl up on your cot, hugging your knees to your chest, trying to find some semblance of comfort.

By the time Soap does come back, you're already in your cot, eyes shut but not sleeping. You hear the front door open and close, hear his footsteps come to the bedroom door and wait outside, hear the door slowly push open, and you can image him peeking inside.

"States?" He asks in a really soft voice. You don't answer him.

He comes into the room, and you feel like he's looking at your sleeping form, but you don't dare open your eyes to check. You hear him sigh, and then he starts to quietly move about the room, getting himself ready for bed.

When he finally crawls into his cot, the silence settles heavily over the room. And once it's silent again, you have to bite your lip to keep from crying.

[t0msvi4gra]

MAKE A FIC ABOUT IT PLEASE

UGH YES 100%%

theyre referring to the chai bot btw guys and i apologize for being so so so slow in posting

I PROMISE | TOM KAULITZ X READER

WARNING: forced sex, sex toys, mentions of rape, overstimulation, drugging, abuse (just a slap nothing too major) and this one is kind of short im sorry!

edit: I REALIZED I NEVER PUT THE DRUGGING OR SEX TOYS IN😭🙏 IM SORRY GUYS I WAS LIKE HALF ASLEEP WHEN I WROTE THIS SO PLS PRETEND LIKE ITS THERE

a/n: if you dont like this fic then scroll lol, these are just my kinks, i would never drug or rape someone AT ALL ! but it turns me on. this is not gonna be completely based on my chai messages but a majority of it (the angst didnt happen in my chai messages)

you came home from work late. another night, another bruise. you loved tom, you knew he loved you but he just didnt know how to show it. his dad always treated him like shit.

“where the fuck were you?” he says putting down the bottle of vodka. “traffic.” you say simply not wanting to upset him further.

“bullshit, you were 2 hours late.” he says coldly and menacingly. “i got held back because i needed to help my manager, then i got fucking stuck in traffic! i don’t know what else to tell you!” you say throwing your hands up in frustration.

tom groans and gets up, you already know whats about to happen. he grabs your throat and slightly squeezes. “i have explained to you many times to not use that attitude of yours.” he says, you can feel the anger radiating off of him.

he grabs your hair roughly and drags you to the bedroom and tosses you on the bed.

“tom i’m tired okay? i’m not in the mood… please let me sleep.” you plead try to sit up but he pushes you down. “good that means you’ll be more tired so you’ll get more damn sleep when you’re bugging me all the time.” he slaps you hard across the face, tears well up in your eyes.

“now shut up and stop crying.” he says but his voice kind of breaks and you can see a tiny bit of remorse in his eyes.

he starts to undress you and he undoes his pants lining himself at your entrance. he slams into you without warning and you cry in pain but then it becomes pleasure. “tom! please!” you cant tell if youre asking for more or for him to stop.

he pounds you, you feel his cock slam into your cervix and he just pounds you for minutes but feels like eternity. at this point youre not seeing straight, your walls are sore. and youre out of breath.

he finally slows down. “fuck you were so tight.” he slaps your pussy making you yelp. “we’re going again.” “tom no please i have work tomorrow i really need to sleep.” you shake your head. he slaps you even harder. tears fall down your face.

“baby, im… im sorry-“ he breaks finally after he sobers. “i didn’t mean to.. im sorry..” he pulls up his pants and lays down to hold you. you sob in his arms… feeling an odd sense of safety. “im really tired tom..” you say between sobs. “go to sleep sweetheart.. its okay… shhh” he caresses your head as you fall asleep.

[jasntodds]

Penace [5]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 13,401

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, a little bit of angst, some fluff, mentions of death, panic attack (jason), ptsd (jason), hurt/comfort, mention of scars

Summary: ❝Thesus: Stop. Give me your hand. I am your friend. Herakles: I fear to stain your clothes with blood. Thesus: Stain them. I don’t care.❞

It’s been a month and a half since Crane’s reign of terror was stopped, leaving Gotham to finally return to normal. But, what is normal? After everything Jason and you have been through, it seems normal might be some unobtainable dream state. But that’s not going to stop either of you from trying and maybe, you’ll get lucky in the end. At the end of it, the two of you have suffered enough, right?

Right?

A/N: I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to update!! I had a bunch of stuff going on last month and stuff happened and I just did not have the mental capacity to edit this chapter. I'm so sorry!! You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary  and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

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The next morning rolls around leaving Jason to wake up first. You're still sound asleep facing him, some of your hair covering your face. Jason takes a tentative finger and moves some of the strands from your face. He takes this time to exist. Sleep always came easier when you were around. Less nightmares, not as much tossing and turning, no insomnia. It was always easier with you around and last night was no different.

You fell asleep first just as you usually did when he read to you. You were cuddled into his side and it felt like it always did for that half hour. Just the two of you in bed together with a book and enough trauma for the both of you. Jason thinks you're both really good at being able to exist in a moment as if nothing happened. There's something in you that allows you both to ignore it all even for a few minutes and just pretend to be who you were before instead of just skin and bones.

The world, people, expect you both to be something specific, to act a certain way. You told him once, in a sort of one-off conversation, you felt like people expected something different. At the tower, you always felt like the others expected you to remain quiet or be angry all the time, to snap at some point. Maybe you did. But, your blood was never filled with anger but grief for what you should have been able to have. When Jason died and you got angry, they expected the silence. They expected the grief to hit you like a train. They expected you to quit, get revenge on the Joker before Bruce did. They expected more than rage-filled blood and red-stained hands. And they expected you to move on because what else was there to do? He was dead. And you were alone. People put up expectations and in some ways you feel like you need to meet some of them. Be more careful, get angry, snap, pretend like it's all fine because it's always been fine. But, then you lay down with Jason and you can watch movies and talk about your mom and you can exist in a way that you want without the weight of expectations collapsing your lungs.

Everyone thinks Jason is angry, always has even before he died. He was never angry. He was upset and hurt and didn't know where to put it. He was never angry but everyone expected him to be so he played into it. They expected him to be some sort of fuck boy so he played into it. They expected him to be reckless and so he was. Maybe he was always a little reckless, no one forced him to rob the Batmobile or go with the red hoods when he was a teenager. But they expect it. And now...Jason can feel it. They expect him to lose his mind and until then, they expect him to be fine. He lived, right? Joker is dead, Bruce avenged his death, and he was brought back. He should be fine, right?

They expect him to be fine without ever considering the scars lingering on his chest or marking up his mind like scuffed up wood. But with you, there are no expectations. He is allowed to read and tell you about theater stuff. He is allowed to have nightmares and be scared. He is allowed to just be. When Jason is around you, he's allowed to exist in a way that he wants without the weight of expectations strangling the life out of him.

Maybe that's why you can exist in moments like these as if nothing ever happened. It is the only time neither of you are facing some false hope of expectations. It is the only time you both can be damaged in all your glory. It is the only time you're allowed to bear your scars with pride and show the beauty they've left behind. You can just...be.

He eyes you softly, brows pinched together and you look so peaceful. He wants nothing more than to pull you into him and sleep like this all day. But it is not his place. He's surprised you stayed in the first place let alone stayed in bed with him. He is so glad you did but there is so much you haven't talked about. So much happened and there's just so much between you. He wonders if you'll ever be able to recover or if this is all you'll be. Just a one-off sleepover sometimes.

He doesn't like that idea very much.

Jason forces himself to get out of bed and make his way to the training area where he keeps his fridge. He expects to be able to grab a few eggs and make an omelet, see what else he has and maybe he could make you (and Tim) pancakes. But, as he enters the room, Tim is seated at the table with a tablet open and his brows pinched together.

"Oh, hey." Tim chimes, offering Jason a wave and a glance before he looks back to the tablet. "I made toast and a pot of coffee." Tim explains.

Jason scratches his head before he shakes it and fully enters the room. "Right, yeah, okay." Jason clears his throat, trying to get rid of the sleep still etched in his tone. "Did you even fucking sleep?"

"Yeah, of course." Tim brushes the question, voice still chipper and a part of it reminds Jason of how Gar usually was at the tower. "Early riser."

"A roof fell on top of you last night." Jason states as he walks over to the coffee pot seeing about a quarter of a cup left. He lets out a sigh before he dumps the pot in the sink and starts a fresh pot.

"Oh, yeah but I'm fine." Tim shakes it off.

Jason can almost hear your voice in his head telling him to push for an answer. A roof fell on top of him and his boyfriend is in a coma. Jason does not buy for a single second that he's simply an early riser. No one is an early riser with this job, not if you want more than three hours of sleep a night. It would be responsible of him to ask Tim if he were okay.

"Seriously, you alright?" Jason asks as he leans against the table to face Tim.

Tim looks up at him and while he knew some of Jason before, this is different. The most of Jason he knows is actually Red Hood related. You didn't talk a lot about him when you hung out and he only spoke to Jason a handful of times, usually about his order at Excellent Gotham. There wasn't much said about Bruce Wayne's newest son. Instead, he knows Red Hood is ruthless, brutal, and scary. He is intimidating and will kill someone if need be. He knows Red Hood almost got his dad killed and almost got you killed and got Dick killed. His association with Crane got him killed. Tim knows Red Hood is someone he wants on his side because if he's not, that could be for the worst.

But, he's looking at Jason Todd who happens to be Red Hood and in this moment he doesn't feel like any of those things. He feels like he did when you introduced him. Normal. Calm. Nice. Tim knew there was more to Red Hood. Not only did he meet Jason and he trusts your general opinion of people, but Tim doesn't believe anyone is as two-dimensional as they may seem. Yet, some part of him almost feels surprised with Jason asking if he's okay but it doesn't feel like it's out of obligation. Instead, it feels like he might actually be genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, no, I'm fine." Tim answers. "Just..." Tim lets out a breath. "Gar said they haven't made any progress with Bernard. And I'm here..." Tim trails off. "Almost getting crushed by a roof and getting trained by you and y/n."

Jason pushes off the table as the coffee pot dings. "You've only been here like two days." Jason states as he makes his way back over to the coffee. "How'd it happen?" Jason asks as he starts to pour himself a cup, making sure to leave enough for you.

"Some video game thing that Brother Blood released." Tim groans. "No one knows how to get anyone out of their comas."

"Look," Jason starts as he walks back over to Tim. "That fucking sucks, alright? But, you and the Titans will figure it out. You're a genius, man." Jason lets out this scoff that comes out as a chuckle. "The way I see it, all those people and Bernard are lucky to have you looking out for 'em."

"Yeah, except I suck at this." Tim lets out a groan, tilting his head back. "I mean, Dick was...incredible. He was so good at this whole thing and he still is. And then you took over and you were just as great." Tim pauses for a few seconds as Jason watches the defeat start to wash over his features. "How am I supposed to live up to that when I can't even get any intel on this guy? When I can't even figure out a damn video game?!"

"Didn't you choose to be Robin?" Jason asks.

"Yeah but y/n said—"

"I died as Robin." Jason cuts him off because it doesn't matter what you said or didn't say. Jason knows Tim is going to be great at this. "Don't take what she says to heart too much. Her viewpoint of Robin will always be tainted because I died. Because it involved Bruce. You chose this, man." Jason points a finger at him. "No one else is crazy enough to do that, not after me. But you did. That means something. Don't get in your head about it, alright? You're smart as fuck and you're capable."

"But what if I was wrong?" Tim asks knowing it takes a special kind of confidence to not only volunteer to be Robin following Dick and Jason but to have the confidence he could do it.

"Dick wouldn't have asked you to be Robin if he thought you were." Jason says it so simply. "We were trained by Bruce for months before we put on the mask and cape, just remember that." Jason states as he takes a sip of his coffee.

"Thank you." Tim offers a soft smile. "Didn't think you'd be the pep talk kind of guy."

"I'm not." Jason lets out a booming cackle. "So don't go telling people I am."

Tim lets out a soft laugh before he locks the tablet. "She still sleeping?" He decides not to push his luck and changes subject, surprised not to see Sam yet.

Jason nods softly. "Yeah, letting her sleep."

"She doesn't sleep a lot, that's what Gar said...that Molly said."

"Yeah..." Jason pulls in a breath as his heart starts to break. "Comes with the job sometimes." Jason only half-lies.

"She's sleeping now." Tim gains a cheeky smile.

"Shut up." Jason groans and he not getting into any of that with Tim. Nope. "Did you want something more than toast?" Jason immediately changes subject before Tim can try to return the pep talk favor for relationship advice. "Toast is a shit breakfast." Jason puts his Wonder Woman mug down before he gets up.

Tim offers a chuckle. "Uh...yeah, I could eat something else."

Jason looks through some cabinets and the fridge. "Omelet or pancakes?"

"Omelet?" Tim questions softly. "Didn't think I'd have an option." Tim did not thnk Jason could really cook, given the whole eggs, beer, and cheese comment.

"Was making both anyway." Jason retorts. He's just trying to be nice.

Tim lets out a laugh. "Oh, I get it."

"If you don't shut up, we won't train today." Jason almost wants to shut his head in the fridge door with his comment. Who the fuck is he? Dick? Gar? Ugh.

Meanwhile, you're finally stirring awake to an empty and cold bed. Your hand reaches over and you feel the spot where Jason was is cold. Your eyes peek open to see he's no longer there or even in the room. It's not that you should have expected him to be you think but there's a part of you that's still disappointed. Somewhere in your head you almost hoped you'd wake up together and you'd have one of your awkward realizations together. You'd stumble over yourselves and your words but it'd feel like home. It'd be warm and comfortable anyway. And then you'd find your footing where it almost felt safest, in the mix of bantering and flirting. But, he's gone. You're not sure that feeling is something you'd ever be able to get used to.

But, you get up anyway, stretching before you get out of bed. You grab one of Jason's hoodies from the table, tugging it over your head as you walk out of the room. You head to the room with the fridge that you're not sure you should really call a kitchen since there's all the training equipment in there, too. Why is he like this?

As you get closer, you hear Jason's laughter bouncing off the walls. Your heart skips a beat and you don't even notice the way the corners of your mouth perk up into a tender smile. You pause just to listen for a few seconds while his laughter subsides and he goes on with his story. He tells Tim some story about a fight with the Riddler and how mad he was. You've heard the story before but hearing him talk so casually and lightly about his Robin days makes you want to burst.

In the few times you've talked of Robin, there's been a sense of bitterness and sadness surrounding the mantle but now he's laughing and joking. He has stories that aren't tied with grief and pain. Robin always meant the entire world to him and you're so happy he seems to still have some of that joy telling the stories. You think maybe he is getting better. Maybe Leslie really is helping him again.

"Welcome back to the land of the living." Jason quips as you walk into the room.

You clear your throat sarcastically. "Get fucked."

Jason flips you off with a tender smile while Tim lets out a laugh.

"Guess I won't make you pancakes then." Jason shrugs dramatically and you know it's a hollow threat but it is also not a chance you're willing to take.

Your eyes narrow slightly before a smile comes to your lips again. "Do not get fucked."

Jason tilts his head and lets out a laugh. "Dunno, think it'll help?"

You shake your head. "You are a bit uptight."

"Look who's fucking talking." Jason waves the spatula at her.

"I am so not uptight." You laugh as you take a seat beside Tim.

"Well." Tim adds in with a shake of his head and the scrunch of his nose.

"The fuck does that mean, Tim?" Your eyes widen at him.

Tim's eyes widen slightly back at her before he quickly looks to Jason. He might help him with Robin but if he wants to go back and forth with you on this front, that's all him. Jason will let him sink. He knows exactly which side he should always be on and it's wherever you are.

"You're on your own." Jason chimes, waving a spatula in the air as he turns back to the stove, the first batch of pancakes already on the burner.

"Nothing." Tim shakes his head with a smile.

"Right." You laugh softly as you roll your eyes.

Jason walks over with a mug in hand. He hands it off to you and your brows quickly raise seeing it's your Supergirl mug from the manor. You packed and moved but forgot the mug. While things aren't...bad per se, between you and Bruce, you did not go back for anything you forgot and you almost laugh. You may not have gone back but clearly Jason at the very least took your mug, likely with the intention to give it to Molly to give to you.

"Thank you." You hold your mug up to him as he goes to walk away.

"You're welcome." Jason gives you a bright and cheeky smile.

"So, what're we going today?" You ask the boys while Jason finishes breakfast.

"I really got to find this Venta guy and get back." Tim states.

"Figure we'll eat, train a bit, then help Tim here try to get some intel." Jason explains, finishing the pancakes before he moves onto the omelets.

"Sounds good." You suck in a breath, pulling out your phone to send a quick text to Molly to let her know you're awake and what the plan is.

Jason finishes up your breakfast before joining you and Tim at the table with three plates in hand, a delicate balancing act on his way. Tim offers a quick thank you before digging in, the toast clearly not holding him over too well. You offer Jason a tender smile before you dig in. Your chest warms and your skin bursts with goosebumps knowing Jason made pancakes for you.

Jason offers such a specific type of subtle kindness that seems to be overlooked by a lot of people. It's not so much in his words which after all this time, you figured out it's just because he's not too good at expressing himself most of the time. For him, actions say everything that gets caught in his throat. And it's not just with you he does it with. Bruce preferred his omelet differently and Jason never even asked, he always just made an extra one with the things Bruce liked. Gar mentioned he was looking for a few Saga comics and Jason found them and shipped them to Titans tower just because he could. He always offers to help Molly with anything she's working on. He extends his kindness with actions just to display how much he cares about the people who offer him the same kindness.

You think it's one of your favorite things about him.

The three of you finish up your food and get changed for training. The three of you take your time stretching and getting ready to allow your food to settle a little. Training starts just as it did yesterday, Jason taking the first round and then you. Tim still doesn't stand a chance but you and Jason can already see some improvement the longer you train which comes as a big relief. 

After training, the three of you get suited up and head out, deciding to go to the marina this time. Tim rides with you, hoping to find something out tonight. He feels like he's running out of time. Meanwhile, you and Jason are looking to see how he does not in a training room with a safety net. A roof fell on him last night and he seems incredibly unbothered. To you, it only feels right to have him out on the streets anyway, even if it's under false pretenses. So, while you're "looking" for Venta or trying to get intel on him, you're also patrolling, showing Tim the ropes, teaching him the art of grappling between buildings. This is all just more training, making sure he'll be safe out there in the open without the security blanket of you and Jason or the Titans or being in one location. Jason and you think Tim will be just fine. He's smart and capable, he pays attention. This is not a game to him.

It matters.

It always mattered to Dick and Jason, too but it's different with Tim. Bruce offered Robin to Dick and Jason. They were his sons. Batman and Robin. They had months and months of training and while it was hard and brutal at times, there was something that felt magical about the whole thing. It felt surreal. With Tim, it's as if he feels he is obligated to fill the role. Unlike Dick and Jason, Tim chose it and there's somehow more pressure in that for him to prove himself. Tim is generally someone who can focus on things that are important and serious, but this is different. It is his life. It's the life of innocent people. He's having fun, sure, but he's taking it even more seriously than Jason and Dick ever did. It doesn't help he's trying to fill their shoes, something Jason does understand.

After hours of looking and patrolling, you don't turn anything up and head back to Jason's. Tim is incredibly disappointed by his inability to find anything out but you and you assure him that if Venta were in town or if anyone knew anything, they would have spilled with the two of you being around anyway. Between the three of you, someone would have told you some sort of information. You both remind him how easy it was to get information from the people you did question about other cases. Some people are harder but getting intel on one person rarely ever results in no answers. The reassurance does make Tim feel a little bit better about it.

While Tim is feeling a bit better and you're confident in his abilities, feeling pretty good actually, the case is not the same for Jason. Some days are just better than others and today is not one of those days. Waking up with you was refreshing but he's finding that to be the best part of his day because Tim put on the Robin suit. Jason isn't mad or bitter about it. It has nothing to do with it but something about it is causing him anxiety. Something about seeing Tim in the suit, or maybe just another rendition of the suit, makes him want to explode and run and cry and scream. He's been biting it down all day because it's his problem not Tim's. He hates it but something about it is pulling him back to Amusement Mile. Something about it is pulling him back to the anti-fear drug and Cran'e reign. Something about it is making him feel so small and useless. He thought he was making progress but you're back at his home and he's never felt so disconnected from everything. He thinks it's so dumb to feel upset and panicky over this.

He swears it's fine.

"I'm gonna shower." Jason clears his throat before excusing himself to head off to his bedroom as quickly as he can, trying not to raise any alarms.

Your eyes linger on the doorway. Jason might as well have run out of the door with how quickly he excused himself. You heard a slight tremble in his voice. It was sharper than usual and his steps weren't as light as they usually are.

"Is he okay?" Tim asks as he walks over to grab the suitcase for his suit.

You look back at Tim and nod once. During your patrol, you could tell something switched. Jason's been in a good mood and pretty casual about everything, generally speaking. Being in a good mood and things going well always seemed to poke a hole into his head a bit. And today, out there doing your thing, he was quieter, more focused. He's always focused but this was laserlike almost and you're supposed to be helping Tim. You'd make some sort of quip and all you'd get is a disguised chuckle from behind his helmet. If you know anything, it's knowing Jason Todd is in fact, not fine.

"Yeah, no I'm sure he's fine." You brush it off, figuring you'll check on him in a few minutes. "I kept him up pretty late so he's just tired, probably." You nod again, Tim not buying any of it.

"He was up before you were." Tim states as he walks back over to you with his case. "It's not my business, just..." Tim shrugs dramatically, showing genuine concern for Jason's well-being.

Your eyes go to your boots and then back to him. "Yeah, uh...yeah." You nod your head. "I'll check on him in a few minutes. I'm sure he's fine, Tim." You offer him a fake smile.

Jason's head is spinning while his arms are practically vibrating themselves from his body. His muscles are going so weak he can barely turn the water on for a shower. The air is thick and stale through his lungs, burning with every breath. His stomach twists and his eyes start to water despite his best efforts to stop it. The world around him starts to feel like it's closing in and suffocating the life from his lungs. The shower pelts the porcelain flooring, he swears he can hear you and Tim talking and walking from down the hall. His heartbeat is radiating through his ear canals and the passing cars sound like they might drive right through his new home. Everything is growing louder and louder and the thoughts start to kick in. They take a battering ram to the walls and that's when he can't even bear to stand anymore.

Jason carries the heartbreak of death on his shoulders and it is crushing every part of him.

Tim leaves you to go change and you follow his lead, heading for a bathroom. You take your time, giving Jason enough time to gather himself if he needs to before you go to check on him. And for a second, you almost even second-guess it. You haven't spoken in a month and a half, you're just now trying this whole friend thing, is it really your place? When Tim leaves, will you just go back to not talking with no obligation in the middle of you? What if you're wrong anyway? Maybe Jason has changed a little bit in this time and maybe he was just more focused because a roof fell on all of you yesterday. You run yourself in circles, not wanting to overstep and mind his space. Jason always liked his personal space, maybe a little too much but you don't want to intrude. You always felt like you were just intruding in people's lives, a mismatched puzzle piece trying to make yourself fit. It's not what you want to do to him.

Being around him was one of the only places you felt like you belonged. And Jason was the one that always made you feel that way.

You make your way to Jason's room once you're in your regular clothes because you can't bear not to check on him. He would do it for you and you know him. Despite it all, you're certain you always know when something isn't quite right with him. So, you make your way to his room and let yourself inside, shutting the door behind you.

You can hear the shower echoing from the en suite bathroom. The door is closed but you're relieved that he's in the shower and not losing his entire mind in his bed. You look around his room some more and you wonder what else he plans to do with it. You think it must feel more like a home than the manor did. Back at the Tower, he had some stuff on the walls that he picked up because the room was his. He graffitied the walls. It was his and it felt like his. But, the room in the manor still had a poster of the Flying Graysons. Jason didn't decorate the walls, something that always made you sad because it should have felt like a home to him. You never asked but you wondered why it didn't. It couldn't have just been Bruce because of how Jason views him. So, you wonder if it was because maybe he didn't think he deserved the manor or maybe it was that he felt like a replacement and someone else would come in to replace him anyway. Maybe it was a safety precaution for his own feelings of being left behind. You aren't sure but you hope this place feels like a home and he gets to decorate his walls.

The shower is still echoing through the door but you can hear the water clearly, no disturbance or movement. Your brows pull together as you make your way to the bathroom and knock softly. You don't get any answer and you don't hear any movement behind the door.

"Jay?" You ask as you knock louder this time. A lump forms in your throat while your heartbeat starts to spike. Your stomach burns and your teeth grit together. You remember the day on the roof. "Jason, are you okay?" You call again and don't get anything in response.

Your hand goes to the door handle and you pause for a second. And it's just a second before you open the door slowly. You carefully peek your head around the door, your eyes landing on the walk-in shower. The frosted glass door is open while water ricochets onto the white tile floor. And then there's Jason. He's seated, fully clothed in the shower, his knees are tugged to his chest while his arms are wrapped entirely around his shins. His head is buried in his knees and all you can do is shake your head in devastation.

You walk inside and close the distance between you. You keep your stance from outside of the shower, trying to mind his personal space.

"Jay?" You try again and you get nothing from him. It's as if he doesn't even register you in the room which might be one of the biggest red flags when it comes to Jason Todd. He is nothing but on guard.

You walk back to the door and shut it, just in case. Then you kick off your shoes and tug your hoodie off your head before you close the distance between you again. This time, you enter the shower, immediately getting pelted by warm water as you kneel down right in front of him.

"Jay, hey." You call his name again but this time, your hands are delicate and careful as you put them on his cheeks. He jumps immediately, head hooting up with eyes terrified and red. He looks panicked for just a few seconds until his brain catches up with what he's seeing. Your teeth grind together seeing the look of pain across his face. It's written in every line and feature you'd fallen so in love with over the last year. Your hands come to his cheeks again, just as tender as they were before and he doesn't even flinch this time. "What's going on?" You ask softly. Jason shakes his head against your hands and his eyes dodge yours and he feels embarrassed and exposed. Of course, you'd find him.

You always find him.

You always see him.

"It's you and me." Your voice is careful as your thumbs run over his skin. "I'm worried about you. What happened?" You brush the white streak of hair from his face.

"Loud." Jason's voice comes out hoarse and small and his bottom lip trembles. It takes every muscle in his body not to let out a sob.

"Okay." You nod your head once, the look of worry almost permanently etched into your features. If Jason had the strength, he'd push you away just to get you to stop worrying so much. He doesn't deserve it. You don't deserve it. "What happened?" You ask quietly, the water now completely soaking your hair.

Jason offers the weakest shrug you have ever seen. "Don't know." Why do you want to help him? Can't you see the monster he's become? His lip starts to tremble again as he tries to get a breath in but the tears are coming back and he can't breathe out of his nose. The water is dripping into his mouth and he almost thinks it'd be easier to just drown right here.

Not a day goes by that you aren't worried about him. It doesn't matter if you haven't spoken. It wouldn't matter if you hated him, as if that were even possible. You'd worry about him because Jason Todd has done everything to be enough. He has done everything to be happy and somehow, he's still the one sitting in a shower in tears because the world around him is suffocating. Yes, the whole Robin thing was worrisome. The whole Red Hood thing is worrisome. He gets shot out for fun. He taunts people because he thinks it's fun. Someone else is going to kill him one day, that much is certain. And while that is worrisome, you've also seen the damage people he loves have caused him. It doesn't have to be physical damage because Jason's own brain wants to torture him and it uses everyone else's words as some sort of infinite ammo. The vigilante thing is worrisome, but where Jason's head is, that's the real thing that's worrying.

It wouldn't matter if you hated each other, you would rip every false and cruel thought that ever crosses his mind.

You let go of his face and move your hands to his. You're careful, lightly pulling his hands apart and away from his legs. Once his legs are free, you move to the side and lightly press on his knees until his legs are stretched out in front of him. The whole thing is making Jason watch you with careful eyes and it's almost a distraction and then you climb on top of him. You straddle his lap, Jason's eyes never leaving you and it almost causes him more panicky. He might know you better than he knows himself, but he very rarely knows what you'll do in moments like these. But then, you don't say anything. All you do is wrap your arms around his neck and pull him for a hug.

Jason tenses up just as he's done before but after a few seconds, a part of him relaxes against you. He gathers a full breath into his lungs and it's as if he's giving his body permission to lose it all again, in the comfort of you. His arms wrap around your middle and his grip is so tight as he lets out a sob, you can't breathe. You think you'd suffocate if it allowed him any type of relief.

It is all just too much. The weight on his chest is too heavy and he doesn't think he can carry it. He goes out and he murders people. They may be very bad people but it's what he does and he thinks about how Bruce is so mad about it. He tries to be understanding but they will never come to an understanding over it. It will be a matter of time before Jason ends up an enemy to Batman and by default, an enemy to Bruce. What makes what Jason is doing different than what the Joker did to him? To Jason, Batman and Robin were the Joker's enemies, right? And he took care of a problem, the same way Jason is taking care of problems. Jason might not be the instigator in it, but he's doing the same crime. Was Bruce right about it? Is he any different than the Joker?

Most days, it is a thing that he lives with. It's for the greater good and his soul is already damaged, it's already the property of something that isn't quite him anymore. It's always just waiting in an in-between for his second round at death. He does it so other people won't have to. He does it so other people won't feel like him or you or Bruce or Dick or Molly or any of them. He does it to help because people get forgotten. That's what he tells himself but right now, he can't quite figure out if that's really the right thing. He doesn't know what else he's supposed to do. If this isn't supposed to be the answer, then what is? What if it isn't and he can't come back from it anyway? His hands are already stained with so much blood.

And because of that, he falls back into his routine way of thinking. He is damaged. He is broken and scarred, physically and mentally now. Everything around him crumbles at his feet. He tries so fucking hard to be something that's easy to swallow and digest but he fucks that up, too because no one really expects him to be like that. He breaks everyone around him and all he does is hurt people. They try to offer him love and kindness and he bites through it like a rabid coyote. He is undeserving. Someone who is deserving doesn't push and they don't hurt people for being kind. They don't destroy people. That's all he has ever done.

And then he fucking died. It might have been scary and traumatizing but there was a moment, right before everything went dark where he accepted his fate. That would be it. No one else would have to suffer for his mistakes. He was going to die and some people might be sad for a little bit, but they would move on. And he wouldn't fuck up their lives anymore. And he wouldn't suffer anymore.

The ache in his bones would be gone and the voice would be quiet. All of the pain he's dealt with would just be...gone. He would take his last breath, and that would be it. He has hurt for so long that there was a moment where he accepted his fate, that it might just be better and easier this way. He did not want to die and he wishes he were able to have put up a fight but in that single second, he accepted it.

That feeling lingers with him today. He accepted it and as brought back. The reaper won't leave him alone, tugging at his lungs and his bones. It's not forceful, just a casual reminder of what's waiting for him one day. It's a feeling in his stomach that feels like the start of an ulcer. Just there, waiting for the right moment. And he saw the look Dick gave him when he saw Red Hood was Jaosn. He did not seem happy. You were at first pissed about it. No one really seemed too happy at first when he came back. He interrupted your grieving process and then interrupted everything else. He dies with the ache in his bones and the guilt because he has no choice but he swears he won't do this again.

He put a bomb in his helmet as a failsafe.

You pull his thoughts back to you as you press a kiss to his temple. "You're gonna be okay, Jay."

"I'm not!" Jason yells through a whine as he pulls away, his eyes on you. His chest is heaving as he pants for some sort of air. "I'm never gonna be fucking fine."

Why does the world treat him so cruelly? Can't it see that he is good? Can't it see that he has always been enough? Can't it see that Jason Todd has been through enough? He has suffered enough. You would fight the universe with your bare fucking hands if that's what it took for it to understand that he is done suffering.

"You will be." You nod your head at him as your hands come to the side of his neck. Your thumbs trace his jawline. "And you don't have to do this shit alone." You urge. "I told you, if I'm alive then you are never alone and I mean it. I don't care." You shrug harshly. "It's gonna be okay." You want to kiss him until he believes you. You want to kiss all of his hurt away, scare it away so far away that it never comes back. You want to kiss him as hard as you can so maybe he'll believe, once more, that he is worthy and he's gonna be okay and he is never fucking alone if you're breathing.

"I-I just want to stop." His voice has never sounded so defeated as he rests his head against your chest.

"I know." You whisper, your hand moving to the back of his head as you run your hand through the wet strands of black hair. "It will, you just gotta give it some time, Jay." Your voice is steady and calm, disguising the pain in your chest. "You've been through a lot."

Jason picks his head up, his green eyes are dark and miserable. Completely broken. "I died." Jason chokes out.

"Yeah." You nod once as Jason watches something devastating rip through your eyes. "Someone should have been there to protect you." You wish it would have been you. It should have been you to protect him.

Jason shakes his head and he lets out this chuckle that almost falls into another sob. "Maybe I was better off dead." He says it in one breath, all flat and sincere. "Look what I've become."

"No." You say sternly because he doesn't get to do this to himself again. He has prevented you from this exact spiral more times than you can count and he doesn't even know it. It's your job to make sure you repay the favor that was never really a favor. "You deserve to be alive." Jason catches a subtle break in your tone. "You became something that everyone was too fucking cowardly to become. You save people." You nod firmly. "Do you know how many people you've saved as Red Hood?" You ask.

"Not fucking many." Jason lets out a huff.

"Three hundred and two." You answer right back.

Jason's eyes widen and he is so certain you're making that up. "What?"

"Three hundred and two." You repeat. "There was a domino effect, too. I didn't actually count that because it would be like... impossible but I did account for some of them. A guy was gonna blow blow up the museum but you stopped him the day before he had a chance. So, you saved every person that would have been there. You've stolen how many guns from Black Mask? I mean just think of how many people you saved because you took those guns? Domino effect. Of course, there was the apartment fire last week which I don't know, Jay. You're not a firefighter but you still went into it and saved a whole family then went back and saved their cat."

Jason's eyes burn and sting as he stares at you in disbelief and confusion. The water pelts him and it's the first time he realizes it's going a little cold. Why the fuck do you know that? Why are you keeping track? Jason doesn't even believe you. You have no reason to keep track of how many people he's saving. It's his doing and it has nothing to do with you. There is no reason for it. You're just telling him this shit to make him feel better even if that's never been something you've done.

You don't lie to him.

Jason didn't think you'd start so soon and he did do those things. The Gazette wrote a few articles about it though and Molly knew. Maybe that's how you knew but your eyes are soft and your fingers are idly playing with the wet strands at the base of his neck. Why are you keeping tabs on him when you never called?

"W-why the fuck do you know that?" Jason finally gets the words out and you can't tell if he's actually mad about it or concerned.

You hope he's just concerned.

You shrug and offer him a small but cheeky smile. "Cause I do." You suck in a breath. "Have my ways."

The very corner of Jason's mouth tugs upwards just barely at the thought that you're really keeping tabs on him, outside of hearing from your friends. If it were anyone else, he'd be pissed. He can take care of himself despite what this situation might look like to an outsider. He can take care of himself and he doesn't need people worrying about him and keeping tabs just to be disappointed or mad. Jason Todd has never needed anyone but you keeping tabs on him both as Jason Todd and Red Hood is different because you only do it for people you care about. You weren't talking and you still kept up with what he was doing. It makes him wonder why because you could have called. You could have asked yourself and maybe that makes the tiniest smile fall.

Jason didn't call either.

"Keeping tabs on me?" Jason asks with a rough but quiet voice, his brows pulling together.

Not keeping up with him feels impossible. As much as you're beating yourself up for everything and as much as a part of you doesn't think you deserve anything with him at all, there was always a part of you that knew you needed to keep up. Molly and Gar might know what he's doing as himself but Jason's going to keep them away from Red Hood as much as he can. Somewhere inside your stomach, you knew you'd find your way back into each other's lives one way or another. You just wanted to know what he was doing and if he were okay. The only thing you want is for him to be okay and killing people is not the easiest thing in the world, despite what it might look like sometimes. So, you've been keeping up with him just in case.

He's important to you, of course you keep tabs on him.

"I know you're keeping tabs on me, too." You whisper back to him, the cheeky smile completely gone from your lips.

Sometimes Molly will ask an odd question, something she either shouldn't know about or something off-handed. All of the Titans would just ask you which means the only person in Molly's ear is Jason. And you know damn well Molly is smart enough to know you'd figure it out. You just don't say anything. You give Molly the answer and Molly updates you on Jason's things. Okay, so she's a little in the middle of you and Jason but Molly knows you're both mostly asking about each other because you're worried. It is so stupid and you're so emotionally stunted, but it'd drive you both crazy not to know.

Jason just needs to know you're okay.

"Maybe." Jason finally gets a grin onto his lips because you knowing without saying anything until now makes his heart swell. Even apart, you just can't help yourselves.

"Exactly." You let out a soft laugh.

Jason nods a few times, his smile turning gentle. "Why, uh, why do you know that though? How many people?" Jason asks and he finds himself resting his hands on your hips as if on instinct.

"Helps." You answer casually. "Keeping track of everyone you kill and everyone you save by killing, it helps. Keep track of mine, too so...I kept track of yours...just in case." You clear your throat, dodging his eyes. "Know how you are and stuff so...uh, yeah, just...knowing it does help...helps on days where it feels like this might be worse." You explain softly. "It's not...by the way." You clarify. "Greater good but yeah...uh, yeah, you know sometimes it's a lot to carry."

The way you word it makes Jason's heart burn. His hands grip your hips a little tighter and he remembers the night outside of Jerry's. You nearly beat him to death and everything was still heavy. It was still a lot to carry and Jason told you to put it on him. When it gets too hard to carry, put it on him because he can carry the weight of it for you. You swore you'd do the same for him and Jason wonders when you seemed to lose that.

He knows. Deep down he knows because it haunts him in his sleep. That night outside of Excellent Gotham when you were finally done absolutely destroyed him. He knows that was the night you both lost everything. That he lost everything. He had almost gotten you, Tim, and Mr. Drake killed and you couldn't do it anymore. Jason still doesn't blame you even if it makes him want to lose his mind to guilt and regret all over again. It hurts because he always felt so secure with you but then that happened and it was like everything he ever had finally collapsed at his feet. An earthquake disguised in the words of "you win. I can't do it anymore. I'm done." crumbled his foundation. Your love had been wilting away ever since he came back and that was the day it all finally fell apart.

He wishes he could take it back. He wants what you had back.

"Still will carry some of the weight for you, Jay." You suck in a breath.

Can the wilting process be reversed? Can it be rebuilt? Or is it tarnished forever? Or can you rebuild something better? If Jason committed now again, would it be better? Could you get a fair fucking chance at this time?

Jason grinds his teeth thinking that he wants you. After all of this and you are still willing to be soaking wet in your clothes in a shower with him and carry the weight of devestation for him when it's too much for him. He is endlessly and hopelessly in love with you. He wants you. He wants what you had before and he wants to rebuild it. Somehow, some way, that is what he wants and fuck if he thinks he deserves it or not because you wouldn't be here if you didn't feel the same way.

Jason leans his forehead against yours. "You can still put it on me." Jason whispers softly and you gain a soft and subtle smile.

You don't know it, but Jason is entirely committed to you. Maybe you won't want to try again and Jason can't even blame you. It was a fucking shitshow and he died and you almost died. It was a fucking disaster. Maybe you weren't, but your worlds burned around the both of you and charred you both in the process. Maybe you won't want to and that's fine. But, Jason wants to try it all one more time, banter and games and then falling into something. It might not have worked the first time, but it'll be different this time. He's so sure of it and he is so sure of you. He just wants to find his footing and allow you to find yours first and then, even if it makes him want to throw himself through a window, he'll start the conversation.

You pull away, resting your hands on his cheeks. "Why don't we get up, get dry, and I can stay if you want me to?"

He always wants you to stay.

"Ya don't have to if you don't want to." Jason offers even though he knows you will anyway.

"I know." You smile softly at him before you scrunch your nose at him. "Guess you're just stuck with me."

Jason lets himself laugh. There's no such thing as being stuck with you. You don't get stuck to people and you make sure people don't get stuck to you. He is not stuck, it is always a pleasure to have you around. Even when it's hard.

Sorting yourselves out is for the best. It hurts the both of you more than words could possibly describe and a part of that does not feel it's for the best. It feels, somehow, more complicated now than it did before. It's as if you've both forgotten how to walk around each other and that part feels wrong. You both strolled right into each other's lives before and made yourselves right at home as if it were always meant to be that way. Being a part and sorting yourselves has left this gap between you that you're not sure how to build a bridge back. But it's for the best because you can't be together and offer each other the care you deserve if you're too busy dealing with your own traumas while trying to help the other one. It's a little too much to throw in a romance. It sucks and Jason knows it.

"Thanks."

"Of course." You get up, leaning over and turning the shower off finally.

You offer your hands to Jason and help him to his feet. The both of you are completely drenched and it makes Jason laugh. Your hair is soaked, the small bit of eyeliner is running down your cheeks and your t-shirt sags pathetically over you. You stick your tongue out at him and then laugh with him. He doesn't look much better than you do so you laugh, heartily and loud, the booms bouncing off of the tile surrounding you. It's all a little ridiculous.

"Why are you laughing?" You ask as you gasp for a breath.

"You look like a drowned rat." Jason bellows before he grabs the two towels from the towel bars.

"Fuck you!" You yell before sucking in a laugh and catching the towel from Jason. "So do you!"

"I know!" Jason agrees with you which only makes you laugh more and he thinks you're still the prettiest person he's ever met.

His laughing subsides first and turns into something soft and tender while you just smile at him before rolling your eyes. Jason wides his eyes to mock you and then he turns around. He rests his towel on the counter beside him before stripping down to his boxers and you can't help but watch. You're starting to feel goosebumps erupt over your skin as you grow colder but the sight of Jason Todd stripping down? That is not a sight to be missed.

He's somehow more toned now than he was before. The muscles of his back flex with every movement as he dries himself off. The Lazarus pit healed his face and the other injuries he sustained from the Joker but it didn't get rid of his previous scars. The one from his dad is still there and the other one from a fight on the streets. You still like how they look on him. Proof that he is alive. And the only thing you want to do is wrap your arms around him and kiss up his shoulder blades.

You almost do it.

Your feet almost move and you can almost feel how his skin will be warm against yours. He'll straighten his stance at first and then he'll relax. His hands will come up to your arms and a chuckle will fall from his lips the second you place the first kiss between his shoulder blades. You both would be happy.

You almost move.

But it's not your place anymore.

So, you will yourself to turn around and strip down just as he did, leaving you in just your bra and underwear to get as dry as you can. Jason peaks over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of your back to him. He could feel you practically boring into his back and he's relieved you turned around. It wouldn't normally bother him but he'd have to turn around eventually and he wasn't in for that conversation at the moment. But, he offers a glance, catching the raised lines of scars through your back, something that still boils Jason's blood.

Your scars never bothered him. Proof that you fight like hell to make it out alive. But, it pisses him off because what the fuck did you ever do to deserve the mistreatment? Nothing in this world justifies the horrors you went through and the fact you have to bear the scars for the rest of your life as if the haunting memories weren't enough. Jason gets it more than anyone, especially now. And all he wants to do is pull you into him, litter kisses across your face until you burst at the seams with laughter because you're happy. At least if you're laughing you're happy and that's what you deserve. To be happy.

Jason shakes his head and says he'll be back with some dry clothes before he darts out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He takes a few minutes to get some dry clothes on himself, making sure he's covered with a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants. His body starts to warm up almost immediately from the clothes and then he rummages through his things looking for something for you to wear. He grabs a pair of boxers for you, sweatpants that he only kept because they fit you better, and a red t-shirt.

When Jason gets back to the bathroom, you're seated on the toilet seat with the towel wrapped around you, cutting off just above your breasts. Jason offers you a smirk because who are the both of you if you aren't going to do this whole banter thing?

"Wanna give me a show?" Jason quips.

You snap your attention to him, seeing a pile of clothes in his hands and him now fully clothed. "No, fuck you." You chortle back as you get to your feet.

"But I'm sad." Jason gives you the fakest pout you've ever seen.

"You're still obnoxious." You quip, gesturing with one hand to get the clothes from Jason.

Jason keeps his smirk. "Better than shithead."

"Shithead." You beam up at him, still waiting for him to hand over the clothes.

"Babe." Jason laughs before handing over the clothes.

You smile back at him with the roll of your eyes. "Maybe I'd have given you one if you gave me one." You blink up at him and Jason knows damn well this is a trap.

"In your dreams." Jason holds his confidence.

You shrug, deciding to play the game. It is always the most fun that way. "Those are my best dreams."

Jason feels his cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink. "Don't have just be dreams, babe."

"You fucking wish."

"If I did?" Jason quips without missing a fucking beat.

"I know you do." You roll your eyes and he knows he's won. "Turn the fuck around or get out."

Jason lets out a laugh before he leaves you to get changed, closing the door behind him. "I'm right out here if you change your mind about the show."

"Fuck you!" You yell before Jason hears you laugh behind the door.

Jason leans against his dresser, tugging out his phone to see what he's missed. He has a few texts from Gar, mostly just TikToks and one asking how things are going. Jason decides he'll respond later, not in the mood much for explaining that one. There's a text from Dick asking how Tim is doing and Jason replies that it's going fine, not offering any further explanation. He knows damn well Dick sent the same text to you and you'll elaborate more. There isn't much else on his phone so he goes to his gallery, a habit he can't quite break.

He hasn't deleted a single photo of him and you from his phone. It's an endless and helpless bit of hope that it'll be you and him at the end of this. And these are pictures from a better time because even when he was dealing with the shit from Deathstroke, at least you were both happy. Everything still seemed so simple compared to how it feels today. It feels like years have passed since you were in your bed changing your lock screens to matching pictures. It's as if you've lost your last bit of innocence in those few weeks of terror and agony. Jason figures that's just a consequence of endless trauma. He grieves for the kids you should have been allowed to be. Innocent and dumb and stubborn and carefree. He grieves for the people you both were in the pictures on his phone.

The door opens, tugging Jason's attention up and away from his phone before he pockets it. A tender smile pulls at his lips as you walk out in his clothes, he swore they always look better on you anyway. You have a pile of clothes in your hand, topped with the black towel. You walk right up to him, standing just a few inches from him and beam up at him before you offer the stack to him.

Jason tilts his head back with a laugh before he pushes off the dresser. "Am I your fucking maid now?" He quirks his brows at you.

"I don't think you want me to answer that." You laugh right back and it's something airy and warm.

Jason shakes his head. "Fuck you."

"If you ask nicely." You fire right back and you watch the subtle tint of surprise fade over his face. You let out a snicker before Jason deadpans. "It is still so much fun to fuck with you, Jay."

Jason isn't the only one chasing the innocence of a few months ago. You can feel it, too. It's dark now. Something heavy is lingering in the air everywhere you go. You hate how it feels and ignoring it doesn't do you any good but what else is there to do? At the very least, the way Jason laughs still makes you smile. At the very least, the way he laughs makes the air not feel so heavy anymore. The banter makes things feel a little bit better because at least you're talking, at least you're still on the same page. At least it's still him and you.

"Give me your damn shit." Jason grumbles through a smile while you do as told through a laugh. "Just...wait here." Jason stutters for a second before he darts out of the room.

You make your way to his bed and sit down, your hand landing on his pillow. There's something hard under it and while it isn't your business, you pick up the pillow anyway. Jason keeps a gun under his pillow and the smile evaporates in a second. You know why he does it but...it's the reality of it. The heaviness of always having a weapon at the ready even when it dangers your own life. To live in fear. To live always on guard. It's not fair.

Your heart aches for him. Even after everything, he deserves better. He has always deserved better but now he's stuck here dealing with the monstrosities he was manipulated into doing and dealing with dying. It's all not fair and you wish you knew what you could do to make it better.

You carefully grab the gun, checking the safety and you're relieved he's at least keeping the safety on. You rest it beside you before you look on the other side of the bed, not seeing any other weapons. You'd hope you would have noticed last night or this morning if he had anything out in the open. But, Jason wouldn't which makes you wonder where else he's hiding his weapons.

"What're you doing?" Jason's voice brings your attention back to him.

"Why, uh, w-why do you keep a gun under your pillow?" You ask.

Jason's teeth grind against each other, knowing he can't lie about it. He moved it last night when you weren't paying attention. He'd never have you sleep in a bed when it could go off. But, by the way you asked, that's not why you're asking. You don't even sound mad but Jason is embarrassed anyway. Exposed again, twice in one night because of course he keeps weapons at the ready. He needs to be prepared for anything. Joker took care of the job once already and Jason has been doing a great job in making more enemies than friends these days. He keeps his guard up at all times so he doesn't get beaten to death again.

"I put it there." Jason states, stuffing his hands into his pockets, practically gluing his feet to the floor. Maybe if he doesn't move, you won't ask any more questions.

You blink at him a few times. "Yeah...I-I knew that?" You question him. "That's fucking stupid, you know that?" You ask with the nod of your head. "You might have the safety on but what if it goes off?"

"Look, it's not a fucking thing. You don't have to make it one." Jason shakes his head, gesturing a leisured hand towards you, trying to brush it off as much as he can.

You roll your eyes before you get up, gun in hand with the barrel facing the floor. "I'm not judging you for it. I get it." You shrug your shoulder as you hand the weapon to him.

Jason holds it in his hand, grip tight while he watches you go to your bag. His brows furrow as you start digging into your backpack. You pull out a switchblade, metallic blue shining against the low light of his room. You walk back over to his bed and put the knife under his pillow.

"It's locked so it shouldn't open on you while you're asleep. Just don't lose that one, I like that one." You roll your shoulders, eyes locked on his. "I got those from Bruce so they're good for throwing." You explain as you swallow thickly and you can see Jason wanting to fight you on it, defend himself but he doesn't need to. Jason Todd never needs to defend himself against you. "I have one under my pillow, too." You say quietly while you watch Jason's face soften and his shoulders relax.

Being with you was always the place he never felt judged for anything, even the blood staining his hands.

"Thank you." Jason takes a few steps forward, finally unsticking his feet from the wooden floorboards. "Don't have to look after me, though." Jason says it simply, a hint of hurt in his voice. He takes a seat beside you. "Not your job anymore." Jason's eyes are dark and sad, something tugging his thoughts back to a place they shouldn't be.

"I know." You say quietly. "It was never a job in the first place." Your eyes go to your hands and Jason can feel the lump in his throat growing again but this time, for the love he thinks he lost from you. Or the love he thought he lost. "You're still my favorite person." You whisper back to him and you don't know why you say it. You only know that it's true and it's always been true. Maybe he just needs to know it's still you and him.

"Still?" Jason asks, his eyes searching over your face for any indication that you're going to throw out some quip.

"Mhm." You hum with a subtle nod.

Jason looks to his hands in his lap and he misses you more than words could possibly describe. He misses your honesty and your care and your quips and the snark. He misses every aspect of you and he is so in love with you. He thought, for just a second, maybe that feeling would fade. Time would pass and it would fade, especially lately. You'd meet again and maybe it would be so different that he wouldn't feel like his heart would burst from his ribcage at the sight of you. You always deserved better than him anyway. After everything he put you through, you deserve better than that but he can tell by how you stutter and tug at your sleeves, the way your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes after the last bit of banter, you aren't entirely happy. Being with him, for some reason he'll never understand, made you happy. And being with you always made him happy. You're sitting here and it's as if his very heart is trying to climb through his chest to get to yours. He is still so endlessly in love with you.

"I miss you." He says it quietly, looking back to you and he wishes he could tell you the other eight letters but..that all seems a little too honest and a little unfair. He doesn't expect you to say it back.

Every day you wake up and you love him. Every day you wake up and you miss him. Today was the first day in two months, you didn't miss him. You didn't miss him because he was down the hall. You didn't miss him because he was here and so were you. Today was the first day in two months, your chest didn't ache with the thought of him. You miss him, too and you miss his smile and his laugh and the new addition of the white streak of hair. You miss his sarcasm and his ability to turn anything into some sort of joke. You always miss him. And you are endlessly in love with him.

"I miss you, too." You whisper back, eyes locking on his.

The haunted words of 'I love you' scrape down your throat, knowing it's not your place to say them. It's too honest, too vulnerable, too exposed. It's too much for both of you and it's not fair to put that on him. It's not fair to put it on him because you aren't sure what you'd do if he knew. It's agonizing swallowing the words. You have felt more at home today than you have in two months. Jason deserves to know you still love him despite it all but you can't say it.

The room falls silent, the air between you growing humid and thick. Tonight was a bad night. They happen sometimes. Sometimes the weight of it all drags Jason down and he can't pick himself up. But you walk right in and don't even hesitate. You always know what to do and you never even question it. Tonight was a bad night but you were here and he is thankful for you. He's coming into himself as Red Hood, knowing, most nights, that what he's doing is for the greater good. He's getting along with Bruce and they're actually trying for once. He sees Leslie once a week. He is trying, making a solid effort to move past everything that's ever made him feel like a burden. It's the forgiving himself for what happened that drags him down.

Everyone was right. It was his choice to go to Crane. He didn't have to. Sure, maybe it wasn't really him while he was high, but it was. It was him making that choice to keep taking it, it was his choice to ignore every single offer you ever made to bring him back just because he was pissed and stubborn and he felt abandoned. So many people have suffered because of what he did under Crane's control. It may not have been the real him but he still did it. And that's a very difficult thing to forgive himself for. And it only ever gets worse when you're involved because you were the one person who never even thought about giving up on him until you were given no other choice. It's a very hard thing to forgive himself for but he is trying.

Leslie says he needs to learn to forgive himself, everyone else has forgiven him and that should mean something.

He's trying.

He's trying to forgive himself and be better. He is trying to accept the care and kindness of others without second guessing their motives or when they'll up and leave.

He's trying not to push.

"I..." Jason stutters. "I really miss you." Jason says again, hoping you get it because he can't stand to not have you in his life anymore.

Your face softens as your heart shatters through your chest. You forgave him for everything the second it all happened. Sometimes, you can feel yourself upset about some of it but it's just the grief kicking in again. The grief of everything you both lost the second he made the decision to go to Crane. It is the one decision he has made that you don't understand but you aren't Jason. You weren't Robin. You weren't stripped of the most important thing to you, of your identity. Not like Jason was. And you forgive him anyway because Jason doesn't like to hurt people. Especially people he cares about. Pushing has always been a way to hurt himself, not other people. You forgive him for everything even if he doesn't know it.

You wish it were different so you wouldn't be suffering through the pain of missing each other. It doesn't seem very fair, especially tonight.

You know what he means.

"I really miss you, too." Your voice is honest and Jason thinks you even sound scared, a reminder of how he sounded the first time things got a little too real with your feelings. Those words hold the same meaning that they do for Jason. Everything you're both too scared to say tonight.

You lean forward, resting your forehead on his shoulder and you know your heart will only ever belong to him. It'll always be safe with him. Jason's eyes soften as he looks down at you and instead of making some quip or joke, he lets you sit in the moment. He rests his cheek against your head and all he wants to do is kiss you. This isn't easy for you either.

You lift your head and Jason's eyes are big and green, the prettiest shade of green you've ever seen. He is still the only thing you have ever wanted. He will always be the only thing you'll ever want. And Jason can feel it, too, like an invisible string tugging you together in every universe, in every timeline. You are the only thing he has ever wanted. You are the only thing he will ever want.

Jason hopes you know he feels it, too so he rests his forehead against yours first this time. Your eyes close as your shoulders relax and Jason finally lets out a breath before his eyes close. He'll never ask because that's too soon into whatever this friendship is going to be but he's hoping you stay awhile. Stays past morning tomorrow and into the night. You don't have to talk about any of it, he just wants you to stay and he wants to stay just like this because it's the safest he's felt in two months. And it's like a reflex, embedded deep into his DNA, he brushes his nose against yours as he feels your breath fan over his lips.

You match him but instead, you brush your lips against his. You haven't kissed him in a month and a half yet it feels like it's been an entire century. Kissing him has always washed away every doubt and ounce of sadness you've ever had. Him kissing you has always made you feel wanted, the two of you against the world. That's how it should have been and that's how it should be now. You want to kiss him so badly you think you might burst into tears. Life was always better with him in it. You want to kiss him to show him that even if you can't be together, you still love him with every ounce of your existence.

Jason's head starts to spin and he holds his breath. He's thrown right back to that time in the manor when you told him to prove it. You said it and he never put in a single thought after that. He took the leap and he thinks it was one of the best decisions he's ever made. That kiss sealed your fate together, even for just that short time. It brought you to him in a way he didn't think he'd ever be lucky enough to have. Being with you made him feel lucky for the first time in a very long time.

Maybe you can do this again. Maybe the way for you to do anything is to tiptoe into it. It didn't work last time but it wasn't for lack of trying. It was Jason who fucked it up but it had nothing to do with you and him. Maybe falling back into each other is how it's supposed to be. Maybe you could fix it all. It's just lonely without you. He's terrified but your lips brush over his again and you're making the first move this time. You can still quiet every horrible thought he's ever had. He loves you with every ounce of his very existence.

Jason brings his hand to your cheek, running his thumb over your cheek. Your skin is always soft under his callused fingers. He thought maybe you'd back out because you do that. You run from everything, you back out, it's all a joke and that's that. It would be incredibly painful but...you don't. You lean into him instead. So, Jason finally closes the bit of distance between you and brings his lips to yours.

You smile against him and Jason can breathe again. He can breathe again as you kiss him back and your mouth moves with his. This might be a one-time thing but that's okay because even if it's just for this moment, you choose him. And he chooses you. You will always choose each other. In the chaos of your lives, somehow, you find your way back right here with your hands pulling the collar of his shirt closer to you and his hands on your cheeks. You choose each other anyway. Despite the pain and heartbreak and chaos and all of the terrible, horrible, thoughts, you choose each other. Even if it is just for a moment, Jason decides to take the second leap and he wants this moment to last as long as you will let it. If you'll have him.

Jason moves his hands to your hips, giving them a squeeze before he tugs you closer to him. You get the hint and without breaking the kiss, you move to straddle his lap, Jason guiding you down. His hands squeeze your hips and he tugs you as close to him as possible while your hands find their way to his shoulders and then the back of his neck. Your fingers tangle in the damp hair at the base of his neck. The kiss grows sloppy and desperate, teeth clanking against each other and it is the most cathartic feeling the both of you have had in a long time.

It is healing parts of you both you didn't think possible. Normally, it's Jason questioning your feelings because why would you ever love him after all the damage he's done? But, it's you questioning that as you kiss him with everything in you. You're just like everyone else, why would he forgive you for that? Why would he kiss you like he's still hopelessly in love with you? You broke a promise to him and he's still here and you have no idea why. But, tonight, you're going to allow yourself to be thankful. All that matters right now is that you're here, together, just him and you.

Jason swears you have left a permanent make spelling out your name across his heart and Jason wouldn't have any other name in your place. And a part of him thinks you know, too. It's as if it glows and heats up the center of his chest whenever you're around. It's like his heart becomes a beacon of light on the top of a lighthouse the second you kiss him. You make him feel alive again and he doesn't have to feel so alone when you're here.

You feel so at home with him. Every piece of paranoia that's been coursing through you fades away and you know, without a shadow of a doubt, with Jason you're safe. After everything, he will always protect you. You will always protect him. You're tied together even if you don't want to admit it to each other. You've ruined each other for anyone that would ever come after and the both of you have never been so thankful.

Jason pulls away, his chest heaving as his eyes open slowly. Your eyes meet his slowly, pupils lust-blown and you have a loving and lazy smile spread across your lips. He thinks he could do this all night long.

He gains his signature smirk. "Did I win that time?" Jason's eyes glance to your lips.

You deadpan and shake your head. You expect absolutely nothing less from him. "Shut the fuck up."

Jason lets out the warmest chortle you've ever heard. "That's a yes."

"Just shut up and kiss me." You groan before colliding your lips with his.

You can feel him grin wildly against your lips before he falls right back into rhythm with you.

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[obsessivestar]

'What If It's All A RomCom?' - a Ted Nivison x Reader.

!! This is Chapter 3! Chapter 1 and Chapter 2 can be found here! If you'd like to be here for the next part, ask to be added to my taglist! It'd be my pleasure ♡ !!

{{-Story Description: You're a youtuber with a fairly decent following deciding to help your good friend Tanner with a minor film project, with you set as the leading lady. When the actor for the male lead is a no show, Ted takes up the role himself. One problem: This short film's a Rom Com, and you just met the guy.-}}

//18+, Def gonna be some smut. Reader is implied to be afab, under 5'5 and has specifically named friends, all who have no real connection to Ted.

This story will be in multiple chapters. Also gonna post this on Wattpad and Ao3 (when I figure them out LMAO) under the same username: ObsessiveStarla. Hope you enjoy :^)\\

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Word count: 3.5k

Chapter 3: My Eyes Are Up Here

The first day of shooting the film finally came and went. We had spent most of that afternoon figuring out what every character's wardrobe would be like and making sure everything on set looked good on camera. If any furniture needed to be moved, we moved it. Paintings were taken down or added, blinds were closed or left open, overrall it felt like the first day was about preperation. While I had thought we'd get at least some filming done on the first day, it actually worked out well. It gave Ted an entire day to go over the script with Tanner, and Joe the entire day to play the role of my father, demanding I stay away from bad boy Ted. I mean that sarcastically. Mostly sarcastically.

The plot of the film is almost similar to our real lives: We're supposed to be a bunch of adults out of college trying to hold on to our youth while spending their last summer together at some...summer house. There's a few extras that are meant to be playing our friends, but the main focus is on the relationship of Ted and I; our characters, I mean. At the end of the first day, everyone part of the film crew leave to sleep at their own accommodations except 5 of us. Ted, Myself, Tanner, Joe and another member of the editing team, though I don't learn his name tonight as he spends the entirety of it in his assigned bedroom. Joe had offered to get me a separate Airbnb when he realized I was the only one staying here that didn't identify as a guy, but I'm not uncomfortable with these arrangements. I have a lock for my assigned bedroom if need be, but I have no reason to distrust anyone else that will be spending the next 3 weeks living here.

The first night passes with no problems from anybody, except from Ted. He started knocking on my wall around 12am. Took a good couple minutes and a quick Google search to realize the fuckass was knocking 'cunt' in Morse code. He stopped shortly after I messaged him a picture of my middle finger being held up at the same wall.

The next morning i'm involved in a few scenes with some of the extras first so I can get a real feel for being on camera in this light, which also gives Ted time to read over the script in another room. In the film, my name is supposed to be Kara, and he's Mason. Tanner picked simple names. Ted looks like he could be named 'Mason'. The scenes go by fairly quickly, doing the necessary repeats to get multiple takes and angles, standard procedure when filming. I find myself to be quite a natural at this sort of thing. Other than the occasional stammer, I'm able to speak my lines and act the part with little to no difficulty. No bloopers just yet.

Next thing I know, morning turns into noon and we're having to move outside to take advantage of the last bit of full sunshine we'll have for the day, including Ted, who will finally be joining me in front of the camera. Like Ted had explained yesterday, we'd been filming a lot of the scenes out of order, this one included. At this point in the story, several days have passed, and our characters have already shared their first kiss, so our chemistry needs to be on point to make it believable. We need to act like there are some real, lingering feelings for one another while keeping it subtle. It was actually challenges like this that made me agree to take the leading lady role. I could've easily been one of the extras and only have a page or two to read off of, but I wanted to explore true acting, not just pretending.

I can't say I'm inherently a romantic. I'm certainly intrigued by how romance in film was handled decade's ago compared to now and I'd absolutely invest myself into a romantic comedy of the 90's or 2000's if one was turned on in front of me, but I didn't sign up for this to play pretend with a handsome guy. I want to explore the trials and tribulations of this cheesy kind of storytelling I'm a sucker for. I want to see if I'm capable of bringing chemistry into one scene, then slipping it into my pocket for the next as if it were never out there.

My thoughts are cut by Tanner and Ted meeting me and the rest of the crew outside, with the script still in Ted's hand. He's still in the white t-shirt they fitted him with yesterday, changing his slacks into some dark blue jeans. He looked pretty good in jeans.

"Okay, so we wanna get some establishing shots.." Tanner explained to us, Ted moving to come stand beside me. "We're gonna get some of the extras to toss around a football and sort of...run around, get some shots of them playing. You two are gonna go stand over by that post and just...talk..." He pauses on that last word, as if to really emphasize it. "Just talk?" Ted repeats, raising both of his brows with a smile. "I don't like the way you hesitated there, my good man."

"No, I mean--"

"I feel like you're trying to imply something, good sir."

"Yeah, Tanner. He can talk to the 'pretty lady'." I pitch in with a knowing smirk, getting a look from Ted. "We won't need an intimacy coach just yet."

"No, I get it.." Tanner chuckles slightly. "What I was trying to say is now might be a good time to talk about what your 'tell' is going to be, if you can't think of anything to talk about."

I furrow my brows in confusion, silently looking to Ted for an idea of what that is. He looks equally confused. "Our 'tell'?" I ask.

"Yeah, for when you have to kiss." Tanner replies, pointing at Ted and I. "We can't just count down from three and shout at you. It has to feel natural, so if you have a tell, a non-verbal way of signaling that one of you is going in for it, it makes it...realistic and saves up some time."

I suppose the way Tanner explained it make sense. It makes me think back on a moment in Stranger Things. There's a scene at the end of Season 2 where everyone's dancing, and you can just barely see Finn Wolfhard's mouth move before he goes in for a kiss. He had mouthed 'I'm coming in' or something like that to Millie and it's noticable in the final shot they went with. Tanner wanting to avoid that is completely valid.

"OK. No problem." Ted was the first to agree with a casual shrug, turning to look at me. I give a quiet little nod in return. "Where should we go stand?"

"Just over there would be perfect." Tanner pointed over by the large empty flagpole in the distance, a bit farther away from the rest of the extras. "I'll just be a little more to the left with the film crew, I'll give you a. O.K. signal just before we start filming so you know when to start and I'll shout 'cut' when we're done."

"Sounds good to me. Let's go." Ted beckoned me to follow, heading towards the flagpole.

I'm walking somewhat behind Ted, blushing a little to myself as I take in just how much taller he is than me. He's definitely at least a foot taller, maybe more. I'm only noticing it now. I wonder how tall he is?

"It's 6."

I stop walking for about a second, almost wondering if Ted had somehow read my mind. "What?"

"It's 6 kisses. I counted."

"O-Oh." I giggle a little to myself, crossing my arms over each other to rub them with my hands. "You counted them? Did you even read the script?"

"Better than you did! How do you over count kissing?"

"I counted 7!"

"You added one in, you fuckhead."

"Why the fuck would I add one in? What, you think I was enticing you with an extra kiss, asshole?!" I move up a bit to stand beside him as we walk, just so I can playfully nudge his arm. "I counted 7!"

"You fucking wish, princess."

"Ooghh, you fucking wiiiish!..." I start to mock Ted's strong voice again. "You're projecting. Maybe you under-counted."

"How about you under-count how cute you think you are, huh?" Ted snickered to himself, nudging me back a little harder. "We're supposed to want to smooch it up more once we get to this pole, I need to be able to stay in character."

"That sounds like a you problem. I can stay in character, even with your headass."

"I am going to stick you up on that fucking flagpole, princess. One more."

"Stick--" I pause and close my mouth, resisting the urge to burst out laughing. "Stick deez nuts down your throat."

Ted and I erupt into laughter, almost getting a little hysterical. I leaned forward and hugged my stomach while Ted flung his head back. I'm sure at least some of the others could hear us, our laughter was practically echoing out. We knew we had to come down from our laughing fit when we reached the flagpole, letting out a few more cackles and giggles. I lean back against the large flagpole, it's wide enough for me to push all my weight on it without shifting one way or another. From here, we can see that Tanner was still talking to the film crew as they mess with their large cameras. I'm having to squint and raise my hand up to cover them from the sun's bright, harsh rays, though I smile to myself. I'm glad I agreed to help with this.

"How much longer, do you think?" I ask Ted, watching as Tanner moved over to a different cameraman. Before Ted can answer me, I see Tanner turn to us and raise his arm up high. I can just barely make out the O.K. symbol he's doing with his hand. Next thing I know, the sun's rays are no longer over me. Did some clouds move over it, or...?

I turn my body, only to stiffen it up against the flagpole, almost like I'm trying to push my body into it. Ted is now completely towering over me, only being held up by his forearm resting above my head against the pole. He's crossed his legs somewhat, so if he were to remove his arm, all of his weight would come crashing down on me. "You feelin' alright there, (Y/N)?" Ted's grinning like an absolute winner, keeping his dark brown eyes on me as he removes his round glasses and rests them atop his head. I feel like his eyes could be replaced with the red laser of a sniper, and I'd be just as tense.

"Wh-Why are you--"

"Ohhh, nothing sassy to say now, eh? Where's more deez nuts jokes, hm? Where's being an annoying little cunt?"

Before I can create a coherent response, I feel another one of his hands move closer to me. Ted rests his hand right on my forehead. "You're burnin' up, princess. Did you pack some sunscreen? Gettin' real red over here.."

Something about the way he's bullying me is making my stomach twist. His tone, his words, his smile....

I try to turn my head away to get his hand off my forehead. It works, but his hand moved down to the side of my chin, gently pushing it to the side to make me face him once more.

"My eyes are up here, baby."

I glare daggers right back at him. I can't tell if he's actually flirting or if he's just fucking with me 'cause of yesterday. Both are plausible.

"Y'know this isn't helping your case." I collect my composure enough to speak plainly.

"What case?" He asks with a snicker.

"The case where you don't think I'm a pretty lady."

"I don't. Tanner said I need to act like I'm into you, so I'm acting like I'm into you."

"You're a terrible actor."

"I act for a living."

"You make YouTube videos for a living."

"Well, I'm good at pretending to like you, so.."

Ted's earthy orbs linger on me as he removes his hand from my chin. I'm not sure what I'm feeling at this moment. Is it embarrassment? Is it uncomfortable? Am I...intrigued? Interested, even? The way he speaks to me, it's just...

"Sh-Shouldn't we be discussing what our tell is going to be?"

"St-St-St-Stammerin' up a storm over here.." Ted mocks my stutter, his confident grin becoming even more annoying to me.

"You're not funny.." As the words leave me, I realize I've been smiling a little at him.

"What, and you are?"

"I mean it! I--"

"Woww, you wake up on the wrong side of the bed, princess? All that knockin' bothered you?"

"I'm gonna knock you into this fucking pole if you don't shush. I meant about the tell." A chuckle escapes me. "He's gonna want to know what we've come up with. Any ideas?"

Ted let's out a gentle sigh, finally pulling back to stand beside me against the pole instead. I feel like I can breathe properly again. "It's gotta be subtle, yeah?" Ted asks, crossing his arms. "I believe the term Tanner used was 'non-verbal', but yes." I cackle a little. Tanner has a certain way of speaking that's rather amusing. He's one of those friends that are naturally funny, whether he's intending to be or not. "Something that, if picked up on camera, would make sense in the moment.."

"Like a wink?" Ted asks. I turn my head to him, watching as he gives the most non-subtle wink I'd ever seen a man give me. A chuckle leaves me. "More subtle...like..." Thoughts about how the kissing scenes are shot wander through my mind, where the camera may be at any given moment, whether or not there will be a close up. It needs to be as non-verbal as possible; the most subtle way a person can signal to another that they want to kiss them.

"...Like...a quick look at the lips."

"Like a quick little one-two?" Ted asks, moving his eyes from my lips to my eyes to give me a physical demonstration.

"Yeah. I'm sure people do that when they're about to kiss someone."

"You're 'sure'?" Ted's smile drops, his change in expression suggesting he's nervous. "Oh man, don't tell me I'm about to be your first kiss.."

"Oh fuck you! I've had my first kiss! I'm in my 20's!" I laugh at him, watching as he let's out a sigh of relief. "I've had several kisses with several other boys, thanks!"

"Wowww, okay, first of all, kissin' the bro's is different." Ted points his finger at me, trying to appear serious with his lips tucked in a bit. "Second of all, boys? I'll have you know you'll be kissing a MAN, (Y/N). A fully grown 26 year old man!"

"What happened to the 'man' that was supposed to put me up on the flagpole, hm?"

"I basically already did, and you turned into a tomato."

"My feet didn't even leave the ground."

"Were you expecting me to pick you up? Cause I can do that!"

"Oh please, looks like the heaviest thing you ever carried was a Tuba."

"Okay, fuck you, I was in theater, but I can throw a mean ball and could absolutely carry you."

"You think so?"

"Absolutely."

"Try it."

Ted raises a curious brow at me and turns his body towards me once more. For a moment, I thought I saw his eyes wander downward, but our moment is interrupted by a shout, though it's not from Tanner. Right before my eyes, like time moved way faster than I was ready for, Ted had moved around me to stand in front of me to catch a fast-moving football. His back was close to me, in fact, this was the closest he's been to me so far. Though for only a brief moment, I could feel his white shirt slightly caress the tip of my nose as the wind blew. He smelled like...pine trees.

"Dude!" Ted shouted at the extras as he threw the football back. He may not have been a jock in high school, but his form was pretty good.

His. His football form. Y'know, like, not--not his--

I think that football would've hit me if Ted hadn't reacted as fast as he did.

"Jesus..." Ted huffed before turning to me again. He noticed how tense I had gotten, reaching to touch my arm. "I'm sorry, I didn't back up into you, did I? You alright?"

"I-I'm alright.." I managed to mutter back. It was odd hearing his voice sound so concerned for me. Up until now, most if not all of our interactions had been full of sarcastic, tyrannical but overall light-hearted jabs at each other, but in this very moment, I realized we may have unintentionally developed something here. I'm not saying it's necessarily romantic, but...there's a tension building up between us. It's not just in my head, is it? Does he feel it too? Is that why he's?...

"That...works too." Tanner catches up with us, alongside the man that had thrown the football. I didn't even realize they had been approaching us.

"What, did you plan that?" Ted turns to Tanner, sounding quite frustrated with him. "That could've hit her."

"Dude, I'm so sorry, I messed up my throw..." The man next to Tanner spoke with a genuine frown. "I-I meant to throw it higher up and hit the pole, the sun blocked my view. It's my fault."

"No, I told Dan to throw it, I'm sorry." Tanner speaks up as well, his hands resting on his hips nonchalantly. "I've been shouting at you two for, like, a good minute. I thought it would've been funny if Dan hit the pole.."

Ted and I are silent. Oh fuck. How long have they been trying to get our attention? How did we not hear them? I can tell Ted still isn't satisfied with the answer. Angry wasn't a good look for him, I don't think it's a good look for anyone.

"We need to buy you a whistle.." I manage to get out a joke, smiling to show everyone that I wasn't upset. I knew Tanner hadn't meant for anyone to get hurt. He probably trusted this 'Dan' to make the shot. Tanner wouldn't hurt a fly. He /would/ hurt a spider, though. He hates those things. "Yeah. Clearly." Tanner chuckles slightly, slipping his hands into his shorts pockets. "I'm really sorry."

"I'm okay, Tanner. Teddy's got me." I move away from the flagpole to place my arm on Ted's shoulder, leaning against it somewhat. I think my attempts at showing him I was OK finally worked, watching as he looks down at me with a friendly scoff. "I should've let it smack you in your stupid face." He remarks, finally bringing some of the tension from that altercation down. "Maybe, but at least I believe you now." I smile at Ted, moving my hand off his shoulder. Dan apologizes one last time before moving to rejoin the extras. Tanner let's us know that we'll be moving back inside to check on the shots before returning to the cameramen to help pack up. Ted and I start walking back to the house, though he pauses for a moment.

"What do you mean you 'believe me now'?" He asks, furrowing his brows while smiling. "Believe what?"

I give him a cutsey smile and reply simply.

"That you could carry me."

I walk a bit ahead of him, feeling the weight of my cheeks from how wide I'm smiling to myself. I hear a quiet scoff from Ted, though the rest of the walk is quiet.

After a few minutes of packing up and walking, we all return inside to look over the footage and set up for other scenes the extras will be filming. Now is the time we let Tanner know that we've figured out what our 'tell' is going to be. I look over at Joseph in the meantime, who's across the living room helping an extra with adjusting their outfit. As Ted explains the idea, Joe shoots me a look, furrowing his brows like I had just disobeyed a direct order. I return the look with a shrug. He's just going to have to deal with it. Tanner absolutely loved the idea, said it would add 'real intimacy' to a scene if he caught it on camera.

I suppose that's it, then. If I'm ever going in for a kiss, I'll look at Ted's lips to let him know.

__________________________________

|| Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 (smut) || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 (smut) || Chapter 11 ||

[stupidasfuck]

Lando Norris x Reader

Soo this is my first fan fiction that I am posting. I have no idea if someone gonna read this or like it but if you read this I would be very happy about feedback.

English is not my first language and I am dyslexic so I apologise for any mistakes I made and didn’t find during editing.

Summary: after a long and exhausting race weekend Lando comes finally home and goes straight to you.

I am sorry I suck at summary’s haha have fun reading <3

Landos and your apartment 2:32 am

It‘s in the middle of the night when Lando comes finally home from a long and exhausting race weekend. One of the rare ones you couldn‘t attend due to your work.

Normally it‘s not a problem for you to fly with Lando to his races, some times a day later or two, but this time you had to stay at home because of a meeting that had to be held in person.

Lando hates to go to races without you. He needs you there, not just because you are his good luck charm but also his rock. He goes to you when he is overwhelmed, sad or just needs someone to hold him and tell him that you are proud of him, that he is doing amazing and that you love him.

But when your not with him he doesn‘t have that. Of course you talk on the phone or face time with each other but it‘s not the same.

He needs you with him, he needs to touch you in any way and if he just holds your hand in a meeting.

And on weekends like this when you are not with him, racing is even more exhausting. As much as he loves it, he loves you more and just wants to be home with you laying in bed, with his head laying on your chest, your hand brushing through his curls and watch the show you‘ve started a few weeks ago.

This means he is even more happy to come home and relax with you until his next race.

So when he opens the door to your shared apartment in the middle of the night he puts his bags down, hangs his jacked on the rack and takes his shoes of.

He then quietly walks to the bedroom. He opens and closes the door slowly so he doesn‘t wake you up. He strips until the only thing he is wearing are his boxer’s and crawls into bed next to you.

He slowly wraps his arm around your waist and puls you closer. You stir a little in your sleep and press your back against his chest and put your hands on his muscular armes.

Land smiles at the feeling of finally having you with him and being able to hold you again.

You stir a bit more and start to wake up realizing that the warmth your feeling is not just a dream. You open your eyes a little and blink a few times to see more clearly. You rub your hands over his armes subconsciously while your sleepy brain try‘s to realize what is happening. You turn your head a little to look behind you.

“Lando?“ you whisper.

“I‘m here sweetheart.“ He whispers back.

“I thought you wouldn’t be back until tomorrow?“

“Misst you to much to wait another night.“ He sais sheepishly.

“Oh baby.“ You chuckle lightly.

“Mmh go back to sleep Baby.“ He tells you burying his head in your neck smelling your freshly washed hair.

“Night Baby, I love you.“ You say snuggling back into the pillow and Lando.

“Love you to sweetheart, sleep well.“ It wasn‘t long until your breathing evened out and your sweet little snores filled the quite room. Londo loves the sound of your little snores it calmed him knowing you were there with him.

With your warm body presst agains him it didn‘t took long for Lando to fall asleep too knowing he was finally home with you in his armes.

So thats it. I hope you like it. If you found any mistakes please tell me. Hope you have a nice day <3

[gravedigginbbydoll]

Hawkins University : The Munson Edition

AN: Hey y'all! I'm sorry for the brief hiatus, my birthday was last weekend and my family came to visit last Monday. From now on, I will be posting on Fridays! Anyways, we're diving more into Eddie and Bug feeling some physical attraction ;) We're about halfway through! (Don't worry, once Eddie is over we get Steve + I would be down to do blurbs of Eddie and Bug <3 ) Anyways, I hope you enjoy! Also pls remember reblogs and comments are appreciated ! I love feedback!

→ cliches: friends to lovers, heavy use of nicknames instead of Y/N, we're all just struggling college kids, Music Tutor! Eddie, Resident Assistant! Reader, good girl x bad boy, instant connections, 'I don't trust most people but I trust you', 'are we friends or more?', and 'I can't believe you're such a slut that you have a special dtf drawer...'

→ warnings: mature topics, drinking and drug usage, strong language, bullying, mental health, discussion of suicide and self harm, mature thoughts, eventual smut, minors dni

→ pairing: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

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Chapter 5 

Eddie’s POV

Eddie didn’t want to admit it at the time, but he was so nervous about having you over. Sure, you were over every weekend and usually it was the two of you alone, but never were you staying in his room. You always stayed in the living room or kitchen, both of you out in the open. He had sort of asked you in a spur of the moment need of a distraction. He would usually bother Nancy or Steve, but Nancy was headed to visit her little brother in the nearby town, while Steve had planned on sleeping over at Rob’s for their weekly movie nights. So he asked you, which wasn’t usually a big deal. But Eddie didn’t just like you or think you were cool. Eddie thought you were gorgeous. He often shook off the thoughts because he knew you were often stretched thin with both of your jobs and he was on the verge of failing a course, a relationship out of the cards for both of you. Plus, Eddie knew you were such an exemplary student and a high achiever. He was embarrassed to admit he felt ‘lesser’ around you sometimes due to being a ‘super senior’ in high school and being older than you despite you both being Sophomores. Sure, being 22 in comparison to being 19 or 20 wasn’t a whole lot, but Eddie still felt some shame. 

Eddie raced around his room after his quick shower, panicking and trying to tidy the place a bit. He wasn’t extremely messy, just often disorganized. He hid his cuffs and ropes which had been left out after a previous encounter, along with putting away clothes and trying to make the room at least look presentable. You were headed to your dorm to grab some clothes and such, sure to be headed his way soon. When Eddie could finally see the floor and felt secure in knowing his special toys were in their box and shoved under the bed, he began to calm a bit. 

Well…at least for a bit. But then his thoughts began to wander. 

Did you wear a bra to bed? Would you be okay with sharing the bed? Or should I take the couch? Would you cuddle? What if you did, without a bra, and- Shit. 

Eddie sat at his desk, his cock half hard, mind swirling with sinful images picturing you without a bra, one of his t-shirts on you. He imagined the way your breasts would move without the restrictive fabric, the way they’d feel against him with only a thin layer between the two of you. His cheeks flushed as he groaned softly, trying to shake the thoughts away. Eddie sighed and looked toward his phone, cursing himself for not thinking this through. He’d have to be cautious so as to not be so turned on with you here. 

He saw his cracked screen light up, his heart thumping at the sight. He picked up the phone, able to read the message despite his very fucked up cell. 

Bug: On my way!

He sighed softly and decided to head into the kitchen, readying the movies and snacks. There were sour gummies for you and chocolates for him, along with a bowl of popcorn and sodas and beer. He laid them out while staring at the movies he had picked. Most were cheesy retro slashers, both of you bonding one weekend over a love for goofy horror films like Killer Klowns From Outer Space and Frankenhooker. Eddie rented both films and was excited to giggle with you over the campiness of it all. He had placed all the snacks on the coffee table and made the movies ready to go when you knocked on his door, surprising him. 

He came up, opening the door, only to feel his chest tighten and his cheeks heat. 

You stood there, face free of the makeup you sported earlier, and clothes much more casual, a pair of pajama bottoms and an oversized shirt on your upper half, sneakers on your feet. You smelled fresh, like you had quickly showered and washed off all the sweat you had built up that night. But Eddie was really flushed at how gorgeous you still were dressed down. He also noticed one thing he knew he would have to pretend he wasn’t noticing. 

You didn’t wear a bra. 

You beamed at him, your smile causing the rest of the blood not already there to travel lower and his stomach to flutter. 

“You gonna let me in, Munson?” You joked, eyes glittering with mischief. 

Eddie stepped aside, grinning sheepishly, ushering you in. 

Good God, he was fucked. 

You and Eddie sat down on the couch, giggling at the ridiculousness of Killer Klowns and Eddie doing his best to make you laugh at his impersonations. By the end of the third film of the night (which had been Elvira Mistress of the Dark, whom you and Eddie both had a crush on as kids), you were both crashing from your sugar high and yawning, with you rubbing your eyes sleepily. Eddie ushered you to the bathroom, letting you brush your teeth and wash your face. You used the restroom, only to groan and open the door, clearly looking embarrassed. 

“Eddie…I may have to go home.” 

Eddie walked over, frowning down at you. Only your head was peaking out of the bathroom, only leaving him to guess what was wrong. 

“What’s wrong, Bug?” 

You looked like you wanted to melt into the floor, making Eddie’s stomach twist. Were you okay? He felt a sense of fear wash over him as he worried that maybe he pushed you too far. 

“Y-yeah…I just, ugh, I- I got my period,” You mumbled, looking away. 

Eddie felt a wave of relief and sighed, smiling softly at you. “Oh thank God. I have stuff in the bottom cabinet closest to the toilet. So don’t worry about it. But I’ll drive you back if you feel uncomfortable.” 

You looked up in surprise and smiled softly, still looking a bit embarrassed. “Oh. Okay…Uh, I’ll-I’ll try to stay.” 

Eddie smiled and went back into his room, changing into his comfortable sweats and loose cut off Metallica shirt. He was in the process of fluffing his pillows when you came in, looking at him inquisitively.��

“What?,” He cocked his head at you, confused. 

“What’s up with the minor convenience store in your bathroom cabinet?,” You teased, sitting on the bed by him. 

Eddie froze up. You were referring to ‘the baskets’. Eddie would be honest, he knew he ‘got around’. He used sex in college as a form de-stress, a way to break away. He started last year as a freshman when he discovered that girls and guys alike in Hawkins liked rough around the edges men who wore makeup and played in bands. In high school, Eddie was ‘The Freak’ and consistently treated like some kind of weirdo. But in Hawkins? He was viewed as a devil's food cake, delectable and sinful. The ‘baskets’ had started as a little thing that Eddie did when having people over, so he could be the most amazing host. There was shampoo, deodorant, tampons, pads, midol, ibuprofen, salve, and more in the little gray tubs, all organized and neat. The ‘baskets’ were split into masculine and feminine products, seeing as Eddie swung either way. He wasn’t ashamed of it, but felt something stir in his stomach about you knowing about his hookups. He hadn’t had many once meeting you, aside from Chrissy a few times. But she never came over, and he’d truly slept with her maybe 3 times. 

“It’s…Uh,” Eddie scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, looking away. “It’s for when people come over.” 

You nodded, looking away nonchalantly before your eyes began to grow wide in realization, probably remembering the morning after pills stashed beside the period products. Eddie felt his stomach twist as you laughed a little, your eyes glinting with mischief. 

“Eddie. Darling. Light of my life. You have a Hookup Basket?!,” You giggled, looking over at him in shock as he pouted. 

“Hey, I just want to make sure people are comfortable when they are here,” He defended himself weakly, blushing red. 

“Eddie Munson, you are a manwhore. Lovingly, you are such a manwhore. This is the first time I have ever heard of a hookup basket,” You teased, Eddie pouting at you. 

He hit you softly with a pillow before getting up and heading to the bathroom, cheeks still red as apples. 

“Whatever,” He grumbled, pouting still. 

“Be sure to floss, manwhore,” You teased, leaving Eddie to groan in the bathroom as he brushed his teeth. 

You’d never let him live this down. 

Eddie sat in his bed next to you in the middle of the night, mind racing. He was woken up by a nightmare of failing all his classes, only to show up at a party naked, both you and Chrissy there laughing at him. It was a silly nightmare, truly, but Eddie couldn't help but be terrified of the reality. He was staring at his phone and reading a book when you sleepily sat up, eyes barely opened. Eddie would’ve thought it was the cutest thing ever if he wasn’t still panicking over his life choices. 

“Eds? What’re you doing up?,” You grumbled, eyes squinting at him in the dark. Your voice was slurred and drowsy still. 

“Jus’ had a nightmare ‘s all…Go back to sleep, Bug,” Eddie whispered softly. 

You sat up a bit, frowning at him. “Nightmare? Is everything okay?” 

Eddie sighed, putting down his phone and looking at you. The room was dark, only the dim light of the moon shining through the blinds to let him make out where you were. His chest felt tight. Maybe he could tell you what was wrong. 

“Have you ever wondered if you made the right choice? Or whether or not everyone was actually right in what they said about you?,” Eddie asked, heart thumping. He didn’t feel like you would relate, but he still wanted to get his feelings out. You stared at him silently, eyes begging him to continue. 

“I spent all this time in high school struggling only to finally make it to college at 20 and fail. I hate my fucking major, but going into just music is ‘impractical’ and I’m just going to wind up flunking and dropping out, disappointing Uncle Wayne by turning into my father-” Eddie was surprised by the blurred vision and tears falling down his face. His voice was cracking and shaking. He hadn’t spoken to anyone about this really, not even Steve. 

Eddie felt you grab his hand, softly squeezing. He sighed, tried to regulate his breathing, before continuing. 

“I almost signed up for Music Therapy when I first applied here. But everyone I spoke to suggested Production. Wayne, my advisor. And even the idea sounded cool. I could earn money and get to work with big names I love or meet new ones and help make music. But…god…it feels so soulless. I feel dread walking into those classes and the only thing that has kept me going is guitar or those snotty and bratty kids I teach at The Ghost Note, “ Eddie laughed humorlessly. His hands were shaking as tears still fell down his cheeks slowly. “I just don’t know what to do. I’m supposed to be the first gen student. I don’t want all of Wayne’s work to be for nothing.” 

You stayed quiet for a moment, rubbing the back of Eddie's hand soothingly before speaking. 

“Look, Eds…I don’t know much about music or even production. But what I do know is that you are an amazing teacher. I see your eyes light up when I finally nail something and…honestly? It’s an amazing feeling. And sure, you’re older than most sophomores, but who cares? Some people don’t get a degree until they’re like 40! And you’re blazing the trail for your family. Honestly, I think you’d do amazing in Music Therapy or Education. And plenty of people change their major. Don’t just stick to it because it’s ‘practical’. You deserve to love what you do, Eddie Munson. And no matter what you decide, whether it’s that you want to drop everything and suddenly move to California and be a rockstar, or you want to teach ‘snotty nose brats’ how to use music as an outlet like you do, I’ll be proud.” 

Eddie felt his heart be squeezed and his stomach twist. Could he follow his heart? You sure made it seem so. Eddie had always assumed he needed to ‘man up’ and do what was needed, but you made it seem so easy. Maybe he could turn this around. 

“Thanks, Bug.” 

“You’re welcome, Stinky. Now go the hell to sleep, you barely get enough as it is,” You yawned, laying back down and still facing Eddie. 

Eddie scrunched up his nose, frowning. “Stinky? What the hell do you mean? You always ramble about how I smell like apple pie!” 

You giggled softly, face already nestled in the pillow. “You definitely farted in your sleep at one point. I heard it when I woke up to go pee.” 

Eddie felt his cheeks heat to unimaginable degrees as he huffed and laid down, turning his back to you. “Liar. I did not,” He grumbled. 

You sighed, laughing a little before tugging gently at his messy bun. “Go the hell to sleep, Stinky. We can debate your farts tomorrow.” 

Eddie tried to keep a pout on his face but couldn’t stop the slight smile as he heard you begin to doze off before him, your light snores filling his room. 

He’d tease you about it in the morning. 

Taglist: @josephquinnsfreckles @corrodedcoffincumslut @kirisuteg0men @bebe07011 @amira0303 @vintagehellfire @lottie-90

[angelagiarratana]

Sex Catch Phrase

no proof read because it's finals week bitches

You were sitting on your couch reading a book after work when there was a frantic knock on your door. "Coming!" You had a feeling it was Angela based on the knock itself.

You opened the door to a very nervous-looking Angela, picking at her nails, "Hey, is everything okay?" You asked as she walked into your apartment.

"Y/n, I am so sorry." Your eyebrow quirked in confusion, "For what love?" She was pacing back and forth through your kitchen. "I made a joke about Damien's sex catchphrase and I already know how social media and the viewers are gonna run with it." You smiled, "That's not something you need to apologize for. I know you aren't sleeping with him." She sighed sadly, "I know, I just know that if were public Instagram and TikTok wouldn't flood with edits of Damien and me."

You and Angela had been together for a few months. She wanted to keep it quiet for a bit to keep both of you from being berated early into it. Angela's mind was racing through the pros and cons as she paced back and forth, her eyes glued to the floor. You stepped in front of her to stop her pacing, "Hey. I knew what I was getting into. Even if we were public you would still get edits with your co-workers, I mean you and Amanda have a whole ship name and she's married." She finally took her eyes off the floor to look you in the eyes. A few seconds of looking into your eyes and she knew. Angela engulfed you in a hug, burying her face into your neck.

"I'm sorry I got all worked up. I just feel like a ticking time bomb because I have this big secret." She confessed from your neck, her breath tickling your skin. You rubbed her back lovingly, "I don't want to be a stressor for you AG." You felt dirty for admitting it but you hated the idea of causing her this much stress. Her head shot up and she grabbed your biceps, "Y/N, don't ever say that again. You are not a stressor. You are not a burden. You are the sunshine in my life." She pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose causing you to blush. "I think I'm ready if you are?" She said softly causing your eyes to widen. "I'm ready whenever you are love." She smiled for the first time this whole night, like really smiled. "So I'll make a post later. I wanna scream from the rooftops that you're mine." She added some husk to her voice on the 'mine' sending shivers down your spine. Her intentions very clear to you, "Oh? Yours? Are you sure?" You pulled out of her grasp running into the living room, her chasing after you laughing. She tackled you onto the couch, straddling your lap before erupting into loud laughter.

When you both finally stopped laughing, she smiled lovingly down at you and tucked a stray hair behind your ear, "Here's to coming out," she whispered as she leaned into your lips. There was something new in that kiss, it felt larger than words can describe. Maybe there was a word for the twinkling in Angela's eyes, how you made her feel so soft, how you made her muscles ache for your touch, maybe it was love?

[ksyongi]

hi can i request svt reaction to the reader being shy the morning after their first time?

pairing: seventeen x g!n reader

genre: fluff, crack, humor

word count: 2.7k~

proofread/edited?: nope

m.list

warnings: a tad bit of suggestive themes, teasing, pet names, small caps post, kisses, cursing

an: we hit 600!!! thank you all<33 i tried writing different ways of being shy in this for a change and also jihoon has been like wrecking me recently and the thought of shirtless guys with only sweatpants gets me going all😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫,, and i might redo maknae line since i was exhausted when writing them!

note: please do not copy my works, reblogs and likes are appreciated!

seungcheol: trying to open your eyes from the exhausting night before. you turn to your side and see seungcheol looking at you with the fondest eyes, "good morning darling" seungcheol smiles, tilting his head to the side. you cannot meet his gaze, pulling the comforter up to cover your chest. your body having the slightest aches. seungcheol's lips form a pout, "why don't you want to talk to me anymore, was last night that bad?" you quickly turn your head to refuse. seungcheol lets out a chuckle, "you finally look at me huh?" you give a cheeky grin, "it's just hard to believe what happened...y'know last night.." seungcheol shifts closer to you, "well i can and you know what? it's hard to believe that i could wake up to such a stunning person next to me." you lightly push his bare chest as both of you let out giggles. seungcheol wraps his arms around you, burying you in his warmth. he rests his head on yours, "get some rest, you must be exhausted." he whispers. he is met with silence as you have already drifted off back to sleep.

jeonghan: a tickle to your neck got you to stir awake. jeonghan wanted to cuddle you, placing his head in the crook of your neck. his hair tickled you with every move. you let out a groan feeling the soreness between your thighs. jeonghan lifts up his head, a "hmm?" slipping from his lips in the process. "ah good morning angel, did you have a good rest?" you bite your lip and play with your fingers muttering out a "yeah i did." "what i said last night applies now, don't you remember?" jeonghan tsks when he hears no response. he traces his finger on your jaw before gripping it and making you face him. "remember, i told you to always face me when talking to me. you did so well last night angel, why so shy now? do you need me to remind you?" you are quick to refuse before giving a guilty chuckle and put a hand to your nape and say "its okay, don't worry i remember everything." "good, now how about we get ourselves some breakfast?"

joshua: you slowly woke up, trying to find joshua's hand to hold however being met with an empty place next to you. thoughts flooded your mind like "was last night a dream? can't possibly be since i'm naked under the sheets right..." your thoughts disappeared when you saw the bathroom door open. your boyfriend was holding a towel in his hands, drying his hair. his sweatpants were clinging onto his waist, slightly exposing his v-line. joshua gives a warm smile, "good morning love, i wanted to quickly shower before you wake up, sorry about that." he walks over to you as a blush rises to your cheeks, muttering a "good morning" back to him. he places his arms on his knees as he says "are you sure you wanna go all shy now? don't want to savour the sight of me right now? oh, oops i forgot you saw everything last night~" you frowned smacking his bicep and looking at the corner of your room. "fine~ i guess you don't want me to cuddle you after all of this hm?" you wrap your arms around his neck before he could say anything else before pulling him down onto the bed. joshua could not hide the smirk on his face after that.

junhui: waking up to the sound of the familiar soundtrack of jun's game on his phone. it was softly playing in the silence of the room. you take a look at him before turning away with a blush from remembering what happened the night before. he noticed the slightest of movements from you, taking a look in your direction, being met with your bare back. "ah good morning y/n, hope you rested well." you nod, hoping he can see it from his angle. you get taken aback by the sudden movement of jun's hand sliding around your waist and pulling you towards him. you sat cautiously on his thighs as he raises his eyebrow at you. "whats wrong? cat got your tongue so early in the morning?" you refuse as he smiles at your attempts to correct yourself. "good that you're not so shy anymore. now that that's done, you made me hard so you have to solve it for me."

soonyoung : "good morning baby!" soonyoung chirps when he sees you open your eyes. "good morning soonyoung," you reply, looking at him for a mere two seconds before turning away, making the bookshelf seem like the most interesting thing in the room at the moment. "hey, look at me..." soonyoung sulks. you do not comply to his request as he slowly gets up, and starts placing kisses all over your chest and collarbones. "darling stop." you plead, still facing the window but he does not listen. his kisses start to lead up to the point where he is placing some hickies. "well maybe if you would look at me, i will stop." soonyoung says between kisses. "fine." you finally listen and look at him. you see a glint in his eye, knowing damn well you're in for something. "should i give you a punishment for not listening to me?" you place your hand around his neck, pulling him close to you before answering, "yeah maybe i'd need that right now."

wonwoo: when you open your eyes and not recognize your room, you take several moments to process what happened the night before then realizing you are currently lying on THE JEON WONWOO'S BARE CHEST the events that happened the previous night could not be denied or avoided, making you a flustered mess. you do the first thing your brain tells you to do, push the man as far away as possible. using your strength to push him harder you thought you would, a loud thud echos in the room as you shrink into the sheets. your boyfriend groans with his hand on his head, rubbing the sore spot from hitting the ground. "way to start a 'good morning' sweetheart," he moans. you quickly stand up and throw his shirt that was thrown on the ground over you quickly walking to the door, seeking the exit. wonwoo is quick to stand up and pull you back onto the bed. you gulp, keeping your eyes somewhere else rather than his naked body. "don't go all shy with me now love, i'll make you feel amazing, never again should you feel all shy with me.

jihoon: you groggily opened your eyes to see the bright light shining into your room already. pushing yourself to sit up on the bed. you look at the time, noticing the empty space next to you. "jihoon where are yo-" you eyes widen seeing him standing in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, shirtless. again you repeat, shirtless. his shoulder blades flexing with certian movements and his muscles highlighting his arms. he looks like a god. "good morning y/n" he smiles after walking out of the toilet. you cant help but train your eyes to his abdomen, his well built abs on full display. "honey, my eyes are up here." he taunts. you shake your head muttering an apology. "well you already saw everything so why be shy?" you choke from his unusual response,"it's just, seeing you all like this made me feel all fuzzy inside again." "awww have you fallen for me another time?" he teases. "fuck you." you grunt, "already did~" jihoon sing songs, throwing a wink at you on the way out.

minghao: the smell of your favourite chinese tea pulled you awake, minghao sat on the bed next to you holding a teacup. you saw your favourite tea on the small desk located at the side of your bed, some steam visible over the cup. you turn to your side, seeing minghao already staring at you. "hey," he chuckles "hi" you respond, trying to keep your best to stay as calm as possible. minghao takes a sip from his cup, "made you favourite, hope you like it." you nod your head, taking your cup with shaky hands, staring into the tea you comment, "you didn't have to you know..." "why not?" he takes a deep breath before continuing, "you must be soo tired right now, the most i could do for you is this right?" he smiles, taking your hands in his and rubbing assuring circles on it. "thank you hao, for all of this." "no problem, i would love to do this for you any time alright?" you finally let a smile break free on your face, sharing that precious moment with minghao.

mingyu: "wakie wakie princess" mingyu exclaims. you immediately snap awake smelling the scent of pancakes in the room. "that was faster than expected.." he murmurs. your eyes stay glued onto the pancakes as he pours the honey over, your mouth watering at the sight. you quickly cut a piece and eat the pancake instantly. "hey..don't forget about me now.." you quickly look up to him "sorrwys" you bashfully respond, mouth full of pancakes unable to speak properly. you take a look at him and see him dressed in an apron and shorts. suddenly, you cannot face him anymore. its too embarrassing to look at him after what you guys did. 'no way we did that.' you think to yourself. mingyu plops himself on the bed, trying to get a further reaction from you but you don't budge. you solely eat the pancakes savouring it without letting your thoughts run any further. suddenly mingyu swipes the plate out of your hands and places it on the desktop. he stares you straight in the eye before walking towards you. "i don't like you this way...maybe for a change i could have breakfast in bed hm?" you swallow the last piece of the pancake before shuffling backwards. you were trapped. mingyu did not show any signs of stopping either. well, such an interesting breakfast it was wasn't it?

seokmin: "ahh good morning sunshine!" seokmin smiles, opening his arms to offer you a hug. "how was your rest?" he asks. "well it was great, how about you? i'm sorry if it wasn't that good..." "nooo nooo why are you apologizing? you're not at fault here." "i mean, i kinda am...i'm just kinda insecure now after everything," seokmin takes your face in his hands, "never blame yourself for this okay? you have absolutely nothing that you did wrong." he places a soft kiss on your cheeks before giving one of his smiles. you give a slow nod before returning the smile, and engulfing him in a long hug.

seungkwan: waking up with a sore feeling between your legs was unfamiliar, you turn to the side and see seungkwan sleeping peacefully, his skin glowing in the sunlight. you place a long kiss at his pretty collarbones before giving him a hug. little did you know that he was already awake. "didn't know somebody would like my collarbones this much," seungkwan says, eyes still shut as you get startled. you quickly retract and cuddle your pillow on your other side. seungkwan puts his arms around your waist and whispers into your ear, "i saw what you did, no need to hide," "no you didn't, stop dreaming and go back to bed kwan." you turn towards him after having a few moments of silence and see him looking at you with that stupid smirk of his, plastered on his face. seungkwan grabs both of your hands and puts them around his neck, "what a great way to start my morning right baby?" "shut up kwan." he places a sweet kiss on your cheek, then hugging you, repaying you for the teasing.

vernon: a knock on your door pulls you away from your phone. you had just woken up and was checking the notifications on your phone. "hey, i brought some snacks if you like," vernon asks. "oh wow non, thank you." you smile, shifting your attention back to your phone. "you alright? you seem quieter than usual today." vernon walks over to the bed and sits down. "yeah...don't worry i'm fine." you answer. vernon knows something is up, so talking to you would be the best option of finding out what. "we can share some biscuits maybe?" "sure! i don't mind," after having small chats with him over sharing the treats, he discovered why you were acting that way. he was sure to make you know you were his and that he loved you no matter what.

chan: you woke up to the feeling of strong arms around you. chan was hugging you with your head resting on his chest. you did not expect to wake up in such a position so you tried to escape. "i'm trying to sleepp can you stop moving please?" chan asks. "let me go." you tell chan, starting to feel hot from the blush. "no way i am. we're cuddling for the whole day, you have no escape." you sigh, chan really did not give you the chance to escape so not really giving you the chance to be shy as well. maybe being clingy was good after all.

[pedroshotwifey]

Favorite Bounty Chapter 3

Series masterlist

Pairing: Din Djarin x afab reader

Chapter W/C: 9k

Chapter tags/warnings: SMUT!! (Ik, finally), vaginal fingering, blowjobs, oral sex, female masturbation, lil bit of angst, no use of y/n, reader being a horny cuss, getting caught, canon-typical violence, I'm probably forgetting stuff but let's just say im not, PLEASE READ AUTHOR'S NOTE UNDER THE CUT

Chapter summary: You and Mando get to know each other a bit more...intimately. Despite your frustrations, you learn that you really can't resist the man.

A/N: Hey, I'm going to go ahead and put it out there that these first few chapters will not be the best. Favorite Bounty was the first thing I ever wrote, so please keep that in mind. I have gone through and edited the small things so there is a bit of improvement from when it was originally posted to ao3. After chapter 4 is out, every chapter after that will be brand new and will have better grammar/writing. Thanks for reading! :)

***

You wake up stiff as a rock.

When you open your eyes, you don't recognize your surroundings through the grogginess of sleep. You only panic for a second though, before you remember where you are. 

Memories of last night begin to flood your head and you feel a blush creeping onto your cheeks as you remember why you probably feel so stiff. You had slept on top of Mando the entire night.

You have to stop the gasp that threatens to escape when your eyes come into focus and you realize that you are still in the same spot as you had fallen asleep in. You feel the cool metal of Mando’s breastplate biting into your cheek. 

You are laying sprawled out on top of the Mandalorian. Your hands are resting flat on his chest on either side of your head and your legs are almost straddling his torso under the blanket. 

You feel one of his hands resting gently on your back, his thumb absentmindedly stroking circles over your shirt. His other arm lays beneath his head, acting as a makeshift pillow. 

Your mind is screaming at you to jump up and get yourself away from the Mandalorian, but your body isn’t listening. You feel your muscles loosen as your eyes slowly flutter shut. Part of you wants to just pretend that you’re still asleep. Maybe if he thinks that you aren't aware of his subtle affection, he will hold and soothe you longer. 

You have a suspicion that he wouldn't want you to be aware of the gentle intimacy of the entire situation. He might have been okay with it last night, but for some reason, you know he wouldn't want to have so many emotions on display for you. 

To be honest, you think that Mando may be a little touch starved. The thought almost makes you giggle, and you have to catch yourself so as not to disturb your current position

You try to focus on the lazy circles Mando’s thumb is continuing to make to distract yourself from smiling. You can't seem to remember the last time you felt this safe and content. Kriff–maybe you were touch starved too.

It's surprisingly comfortable to lay on the heap of beskar, but you figure that feeling may come from the fact that it is Mando that you are on top of. It literally feels like one of your fantasies has come to life, and there is no way you are going to end it sooner than you need to. You would lay here forever if you had the option. 

You have no idea if he is still asleep or not, though if you had to guess it would be the latter. You figure you should savor the comforting feeling before he inevitably separates from you and resorts back to his old cranky self. Letting out a small sigh, you nuzzle your head onto his chest and allow yourself to let go of any worries for the time being.

Without opening your eyes, your brows furrow when you feel Mandos' thumb abruptly stop the soft motions on your back.

“Cyar’ika?”

If the sudden sound of the Mandalorian’s voice just barely crackling through the modulator hadn’t sounded so soothing, the intrusion would have made you jump. You worried that if you opened your eyes again, Mando would be gone and you would be laying alone in your cot, waking up from a dream. 

You wouldn't be able to stand it if all of this was just a figment of your imagination, so just in case, you kept your eyes tightly shut as you responded.

“Mhm?”

It wasn’t much of a response, but it was a response nonetheless. You shift your hands to fold under your chin so you can prop yourself up and off of the cold feel of beskar. When Mando stays silent, you risk slowly opening your eyes to peer up at him.

You sigh with contentment when you meet his gaze. You can't help but flash him a small smile as you make what you hope is eye contact. Seeing your admiration, Mando lifts his hand up from your back to rest it softly on your head, cradling you closer to him. 

You let your eyes droop slightly as he begins to stroke your hair. The intimacy of the whole situation is overwhelming enough to bring you to tears, but you hold them back and savor the moment instead. It's nice to know that he apparently doesn't mind you seeing his affections.

“Sleep well?” he asks you. You shiver at the sound of his voice. It's the same baritone as usual, but laced with traces of sleep. He sounds as at ease as you feel, and you love that he knows he can let his guard down around you. 

As you open your mouth to respond, you feel the ship lurch. Before you even realize what is going on, Mando has lifted you up by your arms and plopped you back down in the mess of blankets beneath you. 

As you try to reorient yourself, the ship moves again, almost as if something was pushing hard on the side of it. You look up to Mando, eyes wide with alarm and confusion. He is already running towards the ladder of the cockpit, presumably to check what's going on outside. 

You are standing by the time he jumps back down into the hull. 

“Damn pirates,” he answers your question before you have a chance to voice it. “Grab the kid and get into my bunk,” he instructs you. “The heat killed the rest of our fuel. We’re stuck on the surface until we get more.”

You gape at him as he struts to the gun locker and pulls out two blasters and a rifle. You can see the unmistakable tension in his stride as he rushes past where you are still glued to the floor. 

He starts to reach for the button so he can lower the ramp before he notices that you still haven’t moved. “Grab the kid and get in the damn bunk!” he barks at you.

The command sends you into motion and you fly to the back of the hull to retrieve the child from his closed hover pram. He was still sleeping and he startled when you snatched him up - you winced and made a mental note to apologize later. 

You make record time crossing back to hit a button with your open palm and clamber into Mando’s bunk. As you start to turn around so you could close the bunk door, you see the ramp of the ship slam down, letting a rush of cold wind blow inside. 

The pirates had blasted it open and caught Mando off guard. As he realized what happened, he swiveled around to face your direction before pulling the trigger on his blaster. You felt your mouth go dry at the image of the Mandalorian pointing a blaster your way, you are still too blissed out from this morning to understand exactly what he was doing. Your eyes screwed shut involuntarily as he pulled the trigger. 

When you opened them, you were in the dark. You quickly realized that he had shot the control panel to the bunk door, ensuring your safety if the pirates tried to open it. 

Honestly, he hadn’t even realized what he was doing until he had pulled the trigger. Mando knew that in reality, it probably wasn’t the best course of action, but what's done is done, no sense in overthinking it now. 

The pirates wouldn't be able to reach you and the kid if they discovered that you had been on the ship with him, and that's all that matters to him at the moment. With a quick shake of his head, he turns back to the now-open ramp and raises his blaster.

***

The sounds coming from the other side of the bunk door are muffled, but you can still hear the absurd amount of blaster fire ripping through the air. You stifle a gasp and hold on tight to the kid. 

Everything had happened too quickly for you to process it, one second you were laying in ecstasy on Mando’s chest, and the next you were stuffed into a dark room with only the kid to keep you company. 

You know that you need to remain calm in order to think straight, but there was nothing you could do about the panic building up inside of you. You didn't get to see how many pirates were huddled outside the ship, but judging by the number of shots you can hear now, it must be a lot. 

The kid shifts in your lap and you look down at him. You flinch as you hear a shot ring out close to the bunk and he jumps at your reaction. 

The reality of your situation is really starting to sink in, and you are now focusing on trying not to have a full blown panic attack in front of the kid. You never were the best at keeping your composure in scary situations, but you know you can tough through it for the sake of the little womp rat nestled in your lap. 

“Shh it’s going to be okay honey,” you tell the child as you gulp down your anxiety and squeeze him tighter to your chest. “Your daddy is going to handle it and we’re all going to be okay.”

You wish you could convince yourself of the words that come out of your own mouth. You try to stop the tears that threaten to fall as you move your hands to cover the kids ears. You know you can’t do anything else but wait right now. 

****

Din has two of the pirates down before they even realize what hit them. As he jumps down onto the surface, he scans the remaining pirates scrambling around. He counts six, maybe seven, before he lands.

It will be a challenge, but Mando knows that he is perfectly capable of taking the squad down in a reasonable amount of time. He makes sure to position himself in front of the opening of the Crest so that none of the gang members can slip past him and possibly discover what he has hidden on board. 

He sends a silent prayer to whoever is listening that the door to his bunk stays in place while he has his pack to it. He knows he would not be able to know if you and the child were revealed until the pirates tried to get past him, and by then it would be a struggle to get all of them down before one was able to get to you.

He grits his teeth at the thought but turns his attention to the criminals beginning to surround him. He raises his arm and shoots the one closest to his left, causing the one on his right to lunge at him.

He has that one down just as quickly as he had the one before him. He can see clearly now that there are only four members left, it shouldn’t take too much longer to have this thing over with. 

****

You figure it's only been about five minutes since the door had shut into the black pit of Mando’s quarters. Your heart rate has started to slow a bit and you are able to make out the outline of your hand when you hold it up in front of your face. 

There is a little less commotion from outside than before, but it's still enough for you to worry about the numbers Mando may be facing right now. You think back to earlier when you were curled up on top of him. 

To be honest, you are still confused about the sudden outburst of affection from the Mandalorian. You just hope it wasn’t pity. As much as it would make sense to think of it that way, the ordeal didn’t seem very one-sided. 

The way Mando had held you was warm but possessive, as if he was scared to let you go. The memory sends a shiver through your spine. You wish he was here comforting you now. You close your eyes and imagine being back in his arms with the kid in your lap. 

Why hadn’t he said anything before? You know that he had to have seen your slip-ups, and as much as you hated that idea, you also know that it means he would have known how you felt. 

Before you can come to a conclusion, you are pulled from your thoughts when light suddenly floods into the bunk. Your eyes snap open as you realize what happened and you make immediate eye contact with an unfamiliar face.

****

A sudden surge of panic shoots through Din’s veins as he swivels around trying to count the remaining gang members. He just downed two more of the four that had been left, but there was only one more crook in sight. 

He doesn't have much time to look around because the one still in view is dangerously close now. He let his guard down for too long, letting the thug get the advantage by closing in on Mando from the side. 

He sees the pirate lunging for him in his peripheral vision and fumbles with his blaster, startled by the unexpected movement. As he tries to get into position, the pistol slips from his grasp and falls into the snow with a heavy thud. 

He knows he doesn’t have time to bend down and pick it up before the pirate would be around his neck, so, trying not to panic, he rethinks his strategy. The Mandalorian curses himself internally for his mistake but quickly makes up for it by spinning on his heels to box the gang member in between his body and the side of his ship with his arms on either side of the crook. 

Before the pirate can understand what's happening, Mando brings his head down hard on top of the ugly stranger’s. With a deafening crack, the now unconscious pirate slumps down into the snow next to Mando’s discarded pistol. 

Now that the primary threat is disposed of, Din shakes off the ringing in his head and scoops his weapon up. As soon as he is steady on his feet, he hears a scream coming from inside of the ship. 

****

As you lay eyes on the pirate, neither of you move. 

A million thoughts run through your mind, telling you to run or push the pirate away from you, but your body doesn't seem to listen. You open your mouth to yell for Mando and feel your eyes grow wide in hopeless panic when no sound escapes. Only when you feel the kid struggle in your hold do you feel the vibrations climbing up your throat.

The next few moments happen in a blur. Before you can even blink, you see the flash of beskar coming up behind the pirate, who has now begun to move his arm towards you. Trying to come to your senses, you dodge to the side to miss the intruder's hand as he tries to grab your neck. You tuck the kid underneath your bunched up form and close your eyes, bracing yourself for the blows that are sure to come. 

As you settle fully into your protective stance, you hear a loud crack from outside the bunk. Your body jolts at the sound, but your mind immediately relaxes at the sound. You know what it means. You know the sound a skull makes as it collides with beskar. 

Slowly, you open your eyes and glance outside the bunk. Mando is standing there, unmoving. When you see the unconscious body on the floor in front of him, confirming what you already knew, you loosen your grip on the kid and sit up. 

The Mandalorian can see the tears brimming your eyes as he finally moves towards you, wrapping his strong arms around you and the child in your own. 

As he pulls you to him, you let out a shuddering breath and release the tears from your eyes. You run your hand over the kid's head, calming him down as much as you can. Though he didn't seem too concerned throughout the whole ordeal.

The three of you stay huddled up together for a moment before Mando pulls back. He turns around and nudges the body at his feet to the side, making room for you to step down from the cot.

He holds a hand out for you to take and eases you onto the floor. You give him an appreciative look as you find your balance. As soon as you are on your feet, Mando snatches his hand back as though he had been burned, like he suddenly remembered that you were capable of such a thing. 

Before you can open your mouth to question him, Mando has already bent down and thrown the body over his shoulder. Without another word, he turns around and walks to the open ramp of the ship to dispose of the pirate. 

Your brows furrow. What has him in such a hurry? You wonder quietly to yourself. Did you do something wrong? When he comes back, your feet are still rooted to the spot he left you. You open your mouth to say something but decide against it as he continues to seemingly ignore you. 

The kid has fallen asleep in your arms, which you find are littered with little blood spots, and after Mando makes it clear that he's not going to say anything, you turn on your heel to take him to his pram. 

“I'm going to put the kid down and get in the fresher,” you mumble over your shoulder, breaking the silence. You see him nod out of the corner of your eye and resume your task. You try not to let it bother you, but you feel your stomach drop at his changed demeanor. 

Not thirty minutes ago, he had gathered you into his arms, and now he’s treating you like a total stranger. Tears brim your eyes once again as you realize that maybe you had read too much into it. 

You try to resonate with yourself as you tuck the kid into the blankets in his pram. Maybe he was just shaken by the whole situation. Kriff, you know you should be a lot more concerned than you are. A few weeks ago, you would have been shaking in your boots. 

You’re not sure what changed, but you figure it has something to do with your trust in Mando’s abilities. You know that no harm would ever come to anyone he didn’t want it to, and so far, you have given him no reason to dislike you—you don’t think so at least. 

You try to shake the thoughts from your head as you close the child’s hover pram and make your way back to the main hull. You can hear the Mandalorian continuing to dispose of gruesome evidence before you lay eyes on him. 

He appears to have cleared an area around his messy bunk, and is now wiping the frame around it down with a wet cloth. You stand in the entrance, debating on whether or not to ask him if he wants help, but you decide against it when he looks up at you.

He holds eye contact just long enough for you to start squirming before he turns his helmet back to the task at hand. Your cheeks blush a furious color and you turn before he can get the chance to see your embarrassment. 

His nonchalant treatment hurts. You scold yourself for thinking that way, it's not like anything has changed just because he held you for five seconds. He was vulnerable and probably not thinking last night, it would be unfair of you to assume that anything is supposed to be different now. 

You brush your unshed tears away as you close the door to the fresher. Maybe you’ll feel better after a soothing shower. You turn the knob on the fresher all the way up and begin to strip out of your clothes. Once you’re done, you stick a hand into the stream to feel the temperature, stepping in once you are satisfied with the warmth.

The relief is instant as the water hits your back. You sigh as you feel yourself melt into the stream. You stare at the water swirling down the drain and try to focus your mind on anything but Mando. 

He seems to be controlling every aspect of your life at this point, not just your actions and emotions, but your thoughts as well. Come to think of it, you can't seem to recall the last thing you thought of or did that didn't have something to do with the man. 

You bring your hand up to let it run over your face, ignoring the water dripping off as you reach your chin. You are just now seeming to realize how exhausted you are. You open your eyes wide, trying to fight off the sleep threatening to take over them. 

To be honest, you’re not sure if the sudden change stems from the loss of adrenaline, the fact that you are still trying to wake up in the first place, or because of the constant facade you have managed to put on since joining Mando on the Crest. 

Whatever it is though, you just want to give in and fall asleep where you stand. If you’re asleep, you won’t have to put so much effort into walking on eggshells around Mando, and you won’t have to dwell on things that apparently don’t even matter. 

You decide that sleep sounds like the best plan you can make right now. After you finish washing up, you are going straight to your cot. 

You hear a heavy knock on the door as you reach for the shampoo and you have to try not to slip after the sound makes you jump. You must have been too tired to hear the tell-tale thump of Mando’s boots as he approached the door. 

You huff out a breath, trying to stop the irrational anger that threatens to take over from the scare. As you reach a hand out again, this time to steady yourself against the wall, he knocks again. Impatient bastard. 

“What is it Mando?” you ask in a tone a bit harsher than intended. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks at how childish you probably seem to him right now. Clinging all over him and then getting mad because he isn’t paying you the attention you thought he would. 

You hear him sigh behind the door before answering. “There’s a town not too far from here,” he cuts right to the chase. “I’m going to go and try to find some means of fuel.” His tone is still nonchalant, but you do better with brushing it off this time, your anger making it easier. 

“Okay,” you tell him, doing your best to sound just as uninterested as he did. He says nothing else, but you can hear him shuffling around outside the door almost as if he were hesitating. You roll your eyes, wishing he would go ahead and leave already. 

“Okay, I-...” he trails off mid-sentence with a frustrated sigh.  What else does he want? You begin to scrub shampoo into your hair as you wait for him to finish whatever it is he wants to say. You almost forget he is still standing there by the time he talks again. 

“I’ll be back soon,” he says. You can hear him walking off before you even get the chance to banter back. You give your head a shake and scrunch your face up. What the fuck? 

Whatever. As you step out of the fresher, towel in hand, you decide you’re not going to deal with his bantha-shit right now. If he wants to have an attitude, so let him. 

After you peek your head out the door to make sure Mando already left, you secure the towel around your body and pad over to your “quarters”. Despite the intrusion this morning, it’s still pretty warm in the crest so you pick out a satin sleep tank top and a matching pair of shorts. After pulling them on and checking to make sure the kid is still sound asleep in his pram, you lay down on your blankets. 

You realize relatively quickly that your master plan isn’t going to work. As much as you try to push every thought from your head, you find yourself staring at the ceiling with some taunting memory or thought playing on repeat. 

You huff in annoyance as you lift yourself from your cot, suddenly wide awake. How convenient. You walk around in the hull, looking for something to distract yourself for the time being. When you turn around to make a third circle, your gaze lands on the unfinished cloak you were making for the kid.

You sit back down and immediately get to work with the needle. You are already about halfway done so it shouldn’t take long, but you’ll take the welcomed distraction nonetheless. 

****

You end up finishing the project much quicker than you had anticipated. After hemming the edges–and stabbing yourself with the needle about ten times–you are able to call it done. It's not perfect, but you are proud of the results. You want to have the kid try it on right away so you can make any adjustments necessary but find him still softly snoring in his blankets. Great. 

You roll your eyes. There really is nothing to do on this maker-damned ship right now. It’s just been cleaned, you’ve already showered, and you had a snack while you worked on the child’s cloak. 

You curse yourself for being so awake as you rack your brain, trying to think of something–anything–to do. As per usual, you come up with nothing. Well… almost nothing… 

You sit down on your blankets and shiver as you let your hand wander to your chest. You inhale sharply as the pad of your finger grazes over your stiffening nipple. You know it's not a good idea, but just the idea of getting yourself off in Mando’s ship is enough to feel the arousal taking root deep inside of you. 

You feel your eyes flutter shut as you bring your other hand up to cup your neglected breast. You decide you’ll just be quick, you are way too pent up not to continue at this point. You can feel the frustration embedded deep in every pore of your body. Every muscle tense and every hair standing on end from the pure agitation flowing through your veins. 

You let a hand travel south as you make the realization that you need this. Mando shouldn’t be back for another hour or so, you have plenty of time to do what you need to do before he gets back. It’ll be fine. 

Eyes still shut, you snake a hand down the front of your shorts to swipe a finger over the thin cotton fabric of your panties, feeling the wetness that's collected there. 

“Oh, fuck,” you shudder at the contact you’ve been missing for so long. You bring your hand back up and push your shorts all the way down your legs, discarding them with a light kick when they reach your ankles. 

With that out of the way, you get your hands back to work, bringing them back to their earlier positions. You tweak your nipple as you let your hand roam into your panties, circling a finger around your clit just light enough to be a tease. 

As you begin to apply more pressure, an image of the Mandalorian forces itself into your mind. The memory of him sitting in the pilot’s seat in the cockpit, legs spread wide open, presenting a large bulge in his pants. 

You hiss as you let a finger dip into your wetness before dragging it back up to your clit. You can’t help but imagine that it's really Mando sitting in front of you, rubbing your sensitive bud and bringing you pleasure. You wonder if he would be quiet as usual, or if he would be vocal, finally able to express his thoughts and feelings after being so quiet underneath his helm.

Maybe he would praise you as he worked you through your orgasm, telling you you’re a good girl, letting you know how good you feel as he works a finger into you. You whimper at the thought and start making faster, tighter circles on your clit. 

“F-Fuck, Mando!” you shock yourself as you call out his name, but you find yourself too close to the edge to care right now. You’re almost there, you can feel the coil in your belly getting ready to snap. One more pinch on your nipple or flick of your finger and you’ll be tumbling over. 

Your movements are sloppy as you focus on your end goal, one last touch and-

“Having fun?”

Fuck. Your movements stop abruptly as you hear the familiar modulated voice sounding from above you, but not before you feel yourself tip over the edge. Your entire body shakes and you keep your eyes locked shut out of embarrassment. 

“Ah, f-fuck!” you practically scream as you continue to convulse involuntarily. You absolutely hate how much it fuels the fire to know you’ve been caught by the same man you were fantasizing about just moments ago. 

Even after you come down from your high, you refuse to open your eyes. As flushed as you know your body is right now, you feel an impossible heat flood through you, turning you an even brighter shade of red. As you lay there in shame, you think that you have never been more humiliated in your entire life.

You stay put for what feels like an eternity before you finally find the courage to crack your eyes open. You realize quickly that you can't see much else than the Mandalorian’s intimidating form looming over your quivering form. Nowhere for you to look but at him.

“Well?” his tone is not mocking, but you’re not dumb enough to think that it’s not genuine curiosity that has him repeating himself. Your eyes fill with tears as you attempt to meet his gaze, only to shy away again when you feel the weight of his heavy stare. 

You open your mouth to say something but find that the most you can muster is a small squeak. A tear trickles down your cheek and into your hairline as you watch Mando cock his head to the side, a silent tell that he is not going to give up until he gets an answer. 

The asshole knows what he's doing, he knows that you want this, that you are embarrassed, that you are aroused because of it, and that you are dying for him to touch you already. Even so, he looks into your eyes for permission, which you grant with a slight nod, as he brings a hand up to rest on your bent knee. 

Your eyes flutter shut as he begins to draw slow circles with his thumb over your bare skin, only to jolt back open when he speaks for the again. 

“Nuh-uh, sweet thing,” he starts, bringing his other hand up to grab your chin between two fingers. “I asked you a question.”

You gulp as you feel your eyes widen at his boldness. The grip he has on your chin isn’t too tight, but it’s enough to both intimidate you and have you biting down on your bottom lip to stifle a moan. He sees your internal struggle and chuckles darkly, causing you to shudder as he tilts your face up to meet his helmet. 

“Answer me cyar’ika,” he tells you and you know by the way he gives your chin a light squeeze that this is the last warning you would be getting before he decided to either lunge for you or stop his actions completely.

“I was,” you mumble, barely coherent to him. 

“What was that?” he asks, leaning in so that your nose almost bumps into his helmet. “I didn’t quite hear you.”  He brings himself over you even more so that he can slot his head next to yours as if he were going to whisper something into your ear. 

The weight of his body is surprisingly comforting and it brings you a newfound sense of comfort. You take a deep breath and turn your head so that your lips are brushing against the side of his own, right where his ear would be. 

“I was, Mando,” you say, louder this time. “Until someone had to interrupt me and ruin my fun.”

Mando stills at your accusatory tone and it almost scares you how quickly he jolts back up to a standing position. 

“Well,” he retorts, “Maybe someone should have picked some place other than the floor of my ship to indulge in their pleasurable desires. Your face flushes a bright shade of red at his response, and you find yourself curling up to make yourself a little smaller. 

Once back completely on his feet, Mando straightens out and tilts his helmet up to gaze down at you. “If you wanted some help, sweet thing,” he says, “you could have just asked.”

Your eyes widen once again at the sight of the imposing man pinning you under his gaze. You want to pinch your arm so you can try to convince yourself that this is even real in the first place. Never in your life would you ever have imagined yourself to be in this situation–dreamed of it,  sure–but never actually thought it would come true. 

“Are you still offering?”

His head jerks back down at your words and his hands fly to your body quicker than you can blink. One of them flying to your breast and another landing on your stomach. You are back helmet-to-face once again as he begins to trail the hand on your stomach downward towards the band of your now-soaked panties. 

You close your eyes in anticipation as his fingers drag lightly across your skin, sending a shiver up your spine. His fingers groping your breast tweak your nipple, making you cry out as you feel the cot dip with the weight of his knee coming up to settle between your legs. 

“I suppose I could be persuaded,” he says in a low voice that makes you shudder. “What's in it for me?” You know that he only says the last part for show, but for some reason the sentence sends a fresh wave of arousal through you. 

You think that this must be Mando’s idea of roleplay. It fits perfectly for a bounty hunter; he has something to hold against you, you need help that only he can provide you with, he will grant your wishes if he can find a mutual benefit. 

He pinches your nipple once again when you remain silent–you seem to be at a loss for words more frequently than usual. 

“I-” you start to talk but stop when the embarrassment of what you are about to say catches up. You dart your tongue out to wet your lip before continuing. “I can make you feel good, Mando,” you say, looking right up into his gaze with your best doe-eyes. He curses under his breath when he feels his cock twitch at the sight unfolding beneath him. 

He knows he won't be able to keep up this facade he’s put on to try to gain the upper hand. You are his weakness, and he knows that you know it–subconsciously or not. He bites his tongue and  pretends to think about your offer before giving his feedback. 

“Sounds fair to me.” You can hear the lust thick in his voice, and if that wasn’t enough to make you moan in itself, the finger that suddenly dips farther into your panties to tease your clit certainly did it. Mando has to suppress a groan at the way your body responds to him at the slightest movement. 

Upon hearing your mewls and cries, he feels his canvas pants grow unbearably tighter. In this moment, he would give anything just to be able to lay by your side and hear you make those sweet sounds for however long he pleases. 

He uses the pad of his pointer finger to start rubbing slow, barely there circles over your clit, smirking under his helmet when he feels you buck up into him in search of more pressure. 

“You sure you want this, cyar’ika?” he asks. Even though you are caged beneath him, willingly handing your body over, he still wants to make sure you aren’t going to regret this. Mando often finds that his mind revolves around doubt.  Whether it has to do with a bounty, the kid, or you, he always feels like he is going to do the wrong thing. 

What if you get your release and then decide that all of this was just a mistake? What if you decide you want to leave the Crest, want to leave him? He is well aware that he doesn’t treat you the way you deserve to be most of the time, so why would you want to stay in the first place? 

Mando tells himself that he is distancing himself in order to protect you, but he knows deep inside that he is a selfish man, that he keeps you at arm's length to protect himself. If he has nobody to protect, nobody to care about, he has nothing to lose. He is safe, he is fearless. 

He is brought out of his spiraling thoughts when you speak from beneath him, your sweet voice taking hold of his hand and pulling him out of the deep hole he keeps digging himself into. 

“Mando,” you start, bringing a hand up to rest on the side of his helmet, as if cupping his cheek. He shudders at the gentle touch and you smile warmly, providing a sight that melts his worries away. “I want this,” you stroke your thumb over the place it's resting as he leans into your touch. 

“I want you.” 

That's all it takes for Mando to throw away any doubt and let himself give in to the desires you seem to fill him with. Just for once, he figures, fuck it. He’s not stupid, he knows that eventually he would have to give in to you. Part of the reason he treats you the way he does is because you are so goddam frustrating. 

Your perfectly molded face, your honey sweet voice, the delicate way you handle the child. The way you care for the both of them, giving all that you have to ensure that they are well fed, well rested, and in tip top condition. It scares him half to death how much he really has come to care for you, but how could he not? 

He simply wouldn't be able to bear it if you left. None of his fears matter now though, all that he can think about is finally giving you the treatment, the pleasure, you deserve. Now that he is sure that you feel the same way, it's like a wall has come down, allowing him full access to what’s been hidden behind it for so long. 

He shakes his head as if trying to get rid of any thoughts that reside there as he starts to move again. He picks you up and carries you to his bunk, plopping you down on the sheets and causing you to giggle.  You sit up with your elbows and look at him looming over you between spread legs, moaning as he shoves his hand back into your panties, letting a finger dip down lower to tease into your soaked cunt. 

“Oh, f-fuck, Mando,” you keen under him and he has to try not to melt on the spot. His title has never sounded better. If only he could have the pleasure of hearing his real name fall from your plush lips. His eyes roll to the back of his head just from the thought. 

You look up into his visor as he eases a finger into your pussy, pumping it in and out a few times before adding a second. The delicious stretch has you clenching around his fingers, causing him to release a sharp breath through the modulator. 

You wonder for a second how many sounds his helm keeps from escaping, keeps from reaching your greedy ears. How often does he scoff at your light teasing, or laugh under his breath at your subtle jokes? You brush the thoughts away quicker than they came, you know you can never really know. 

Bringing your focus back to the man above you, you relish in the feeling of his fingers scraping against your walls, of his thumb brushing over your clit. You can feel your orgasm building up faster than you previously thought to be possible.

 Your legs are still shaking from the one you had granted yourself, and you feel a little overstimulated, but you find yourself not caring. When Mando crooks his fingers into that sweet spot deep inside you, you can't help the wave of relief that overcomes you. 

You cry out as he coaxes you through your second orgasm, continuing his ministrations, but at a slower pace. You look like heaven underneath him, hair falling onto the pillow and clinging to your face where sweat sheens. You look ethereal in your orgasmic haze, and the image alone is enough to make Mando’s cock twitch, making him buck involuntarily as his sensitive tip brushes the seam of his pants. 

You whimper as Mando whispers sweet praise into your ear, telling you how good you are for him, how only he can make you feel this good, how lucky he is to touch you in this way. You have never heard him speak this way, and honestly, you have a sneaking suspicion that he is too blissed out to know what he is saying.

As you come down, he removes his hands and starts to back away, unsure of what to do next. Your eyes snap to his retreating form as you sit up, a frown painted on your features at his sudden departure. He stops in his tracks when he sees your confusion. Your expression softens as you realize that he probably doesn’t know where to go from here. 

If you had to guess, you would say that Mando probably doesn’t have much experience with this kind of thing, and you would be right. The most he has done is find pleasure through brothels, maybe a few one night stands where he kept his armor on the whole time, always leaving before the sun rise. 

You suppress the urge to giggle when you notice the ever-growing tent in his pants, instead extending a hand as you settle at the end of his cot, legs hanging off the edge. It only takes him a second to figure out what you are asking for before taking a step forwards and placing a large hand in your own. 

You tug a little and he obeys your request, stepping closer until he stands in between your thighs. He looks down at you but doesn’t say anything and you take that as a sign to keep going. The corners of your lips tug into a smile as you release his hand to trace up his arm, all the way up to his shoulder which you mirror on the other side. 

You use his form to pick yourself up and stand in front of the cot, so close that your nose brushes the cool metal of his breastplate. Tilting your head to look up at him, you bring your hands slowly back down to lay flat on the beskar in front of you. Your turn.

Catching him off guard, you push him back slightly and then turn around while keeping your hands on him, making him switch positions. His breath hitches but he still doesn’t move, clearly wanting to see where this is going. 

You smirk at him and use one hand to push him again until the back of his knees hit the bunk, forcing him to sit down on the end. His face is almost level with yours in this position, and it brings you a newfound sense of confidence. 

You take your hands away from him and turn around, watching his hands try to catch your hips in your peripheral. You step away quickly though, just out of reach as you grab hold of the hem of your shirt to slowly bring it up over your head. Your smile widens at the pained groan that comes from behind you as you let the article fall to the floor by your bare feet, leaving you in just your ruined panties. 

Mando visibly stiffens when you turn back around, bottom lip caught between your teeth and hands brought up to fondle your perfect tits. His cock gets painfully harder at the sight and he has to clutch the blankets beneath him in order to keep his hands off his cock. The intimidating look in your eye gives him enough of a hint not to. 

He never thought that he would like to submit to anybody in any circumstance, but something about the way you stare down at him makes him reconsider. He seems to always be in charge–he always has to be–the thought of having someone else dominate him seems almost refreshing, though he thinks that he might feel differently if it wasn’t you. 

You keep padding over to him until you are close enough to put your hands on his thighs and lower yourself to your knees. A blush threatens to rise to your cheeks as you recall the last time you had been in a position like this, patching up a wound for Mando whilst trying not to jump his bones. 

You close your eyes for a beat as you take a deep, calming breath before focusing your gaze back to his helmet. You can't tell if the tremor you feel in your hands as you bring them up to his crotch is from your previous orgasms, nerves, or excitement.

When he feels your fingers start to work at his zipper, he pulls your hands away. You frown up at him, arching a brow to silently ask why he stopped you. 

“Cyare,” he starts, watching as you pull your hands back a little and cock your head. “You..” he sighs heavily, trying to find the words to say. 

“You don’t have to do that, cyare,” he says, finally. You roll your eyes and push his hands back out of the way, fingers finding his zipper once again.

“I know I don’t have to, Mando,” you say, training your eyes to watch your hands as they work with the clasp of his pants. “But I want to.” You feel him shudder underneath your touch as you unzip him completely and make a loose fist to let your knuckles lightly run across his length. Your eyes widen at how much bigger he looks without the pants in the way, only the thin fabric of his boxers concealing him from your hungry gaze. 

“Besides,” you look back up to him, “I am a woman of my word after all.” 

You don’t give him any time to respond before you are reaching into his boxers and wrapping a hand around him. He jerks up into your fist and you have to stifle a moan at how thick and warm he feels with your fingers wrapped around him. 

Pulling him out completely, you lean forward to taste the pearl of pre-cum that's collected on his tip. He bucks up and groans at the feeling of your tongue grazing his most sensitive part, there’s no way he’s going to last long with your mouth on him. The sounds he makes are absolutely sinful, and you have to bite your lip before moaning yourself. 

“F-fuck, pretty girl,” he says when you lick up the bottom of his shaft, trailing the vein that runs there. He hasn’t felt this good in a long time, and he knows it's going to be hard not to come in your mouth the second you take him. 

You smirk at his words as you lean back and use your hand to smear your saliva further around his cock, giving small jerks each time you meet the base. When he moans again, you take pity on him and wrap your lips around the head of his cock, closing your eyes as you suck gently. 

His hips shift, bringing him further into your mouth, and one of his hands fly up to settle in your hair at the sudden warmth engulfing his dick. You quickly pull off of him, watching a string of spit break and fall onto your chin. You tsk at him when he whines from the loss. 

“Nuh-uh, Mando,” you say in a slightly teasing but firm tone, “Keep your hands to your sides for me.” You can tell you are pushing your luck by ordering him around from the way he stiffens, but he obeys none-the-less, fisting the sheets with white knuckles. Maybe you should call him a good boy next time. You have to try not to laugh at the thought.

Satisfied with his compliance, you get back to work, this time taking more of him into the heat of your mouth. You moan around him as you take him deeper, sending vibrations through his spine. As you relax your throat to take more of him down, you begin to wonder if you will be able to. He's bigger than average, sure, but his girth is what makes you nervous. 

You bob your head up and down, trying to keeping eye contact with Mando. You can tell he is struggling to keep his composure, and it delights you much more than you would have thought. Finally, you are able to nestle your nose in the dark curls at the base of his cock. You sigh around him and you can feel him twitch in your mouth, a sign that he's getting close.

You use your tongue to swirl around the tip of his cock when you bring your head up, and each time, you feel him shiver above you. It really shouldn’t surprise you how sensitive the Mandalorian is considering he’s always glued to his armor, but for some reason, it does. 

He whimpers above you and you know that he's about to spill over the edge. Smirking around him, you bring a hand up to fondle his balls, pushing him to his limit. 

“S-shit!” he growls almost incoherently as he spills into your mouth, shooting ropes of cum down your throat. You are more than happy to swallow all that he gives you, but he carries a big load, and you can feel it start to dribble down your chin. 

As he stills, you pull your mouth away from his softening cock. You grin as you watch his form shake from the intensity of his orgasm, reveling in pride and the fact that you get to be the one to bring the ‘feirce Mandalorian’ so much pleasure. 

He watches you with hooded eyes as you swipe your thumb across your bottom lip to collect the cum that leaked out of your mouth. When you push the digit between your lips, he groans once again. 

“Fuck, cyar’ika,” he says, voice laced with both arousal and exhaustion. “That was..” he trails off as he watches you scoot forward on your knees and tuck him back into his pants. He doesn’t finish, he can tell that you know what he means. 

You stand up and stretch before placing a hand on his shoulder to push him down so that he is laying flat on the cot. He can see the tired look in your eyes and knows what you are asking for. You watch as he scoots back to the end of the cot, making sure to leave room for you. 

You glance at the childs pram across the hull to make sure he is still asleep before you climb in behind Mando, closing the door to the bunk behind you. He opens his arms in invitation and you gladly accept, climbing up to tangle with him, head resting on his chest and leg swung over his torso. 

Nothing is said for a few moments as he brushes his fingers through your hair, lulling you slowly to sleep. Eventually, when you feel yourself begin to doze off, he breaks the silence. 

“Thank you, sweet thing,” he says quietly, “for everything.”

You smile into his chest and he hugs you tighter to him. You don't have to say anything for him to know that you want to tell him the same. One good thing about Mandos’ whole ‘no speaking’ thing–he knows how to read you. 

You just hope he can't read everything. You are trying to ignore your feelings right now, but you feel conflicted. You want to ask him why he seems to get so distant, why he was being so weird earlier today, you want to tell him that if he feels differently about you, to let you go.

But on the other hand, you also want to beg him to hold you forever, to take you with him wherever he goes for the rest of your life, you want to tell him that you belong to him, that you want him to belong to you. 

For now though, you can't seem to do either as you succumb to the tiredness that takes over your body. “Youll have to make up your mind,” you reason with yourself as you drift off. You ignore the voice though, perfectly content to stay in the middle ground, wrapped in Mando’s strong arms as you fade from consciousness.

****

Thank you for reading!!

[nerdieforpedro]

You're not Broken

Frankie Morales x plus size female reader

Fanfiction: Teens and up

Masterlist / Francisco “Catfish” Morales Masterlist

Approx word count: ~2200 (I edited a bit after starting my draft post.)

Warnings: references to smut, descriptions of past violent traumatic events, depression, PTSD, minor physical altercation (wasn't intentional), anxiety, self-deprecation, Fluff at the end

Notes: I'm happy to finally have a fic for Frankie Friday! In many of my fics as of late, the angst has been HEAVY, this one is no exception. I tried to include all the warnings I thought would apply, please let me know if I need to add anything. I think at some point depending on what weird, painful, happy or fun path life has taken you down, we all may feel broken at some point.

We're not, we're just humans in an imperfect world just trying to figure it out.

The same question had been nagging your thoughts for the past month, “Why doesn’t he let me sleep over at his house?” You’d been with your boyfriend Frankie for three months, getting to know each other, having mind-blowing sex and having a great time so you thought. You’d even met his daughter, Camilla, who was an adorable two year old toddler a few times. Frankie would sleep at your place, playing big spoon to your little spoon, his strong arms wrapped around you, his chin and scruffy beard against your shoulder and neck. You’ve been to the man’s house, just haven’t stayed overnight in it. You realize it’s dumb, thinking too hard about this, you’ve only been together three months, it’s not that long, but it’s also not that short either, at least to you. He makes sure you get home safe from your dates and calls to let you know he’s in his house safe. 

One night, you decide that tonight you’re going to ask him why, why he doesn’t want you in his house overnight. Frankie doesn’t offer an explanation, only that he didn’t realize that it was that important to you. Instantly, you feel like an idiot for bringing it up. He assures you you’re not and you both go off to bed, sleep soundly and he cooks you breakfast. Slowly, you spend more nights at his house, but it was one particular night within the week you had been staying overnight at Frankie’s house why he was hesitant to have you over.

It turns out, Franscico Morales is a man with layers, like an onion. He hates that analogy because his friend Santiago says it too often and Benny mentions that his feet smell like onions, anyone’s feet would after wearing heavy boots all day with no breathable material. He’s a kind man, a loving partner and a doting father. He was also a soldier in the Special Forces of the US Army. This left him with blemishes on his mind and frayed his soul, he tries to remember he’s not that man anymore and has moved on, left that behind. As a concept, he understands, but his body and soul never forget what he did in the name of his country. Most times, he can keep busy to stave off the intrusive thoughts, the fears, the self-loathing, the guilt of surviving, the blood he can still see on his hands and head shots he made. Even flying, something Frankie loves doing which lead him to the army, reminds him of his past, moving his comrades bodies to and fro, sometimes they were alive, sometimes not. Frankie has talked to some people about it, some at the VA, and those he served with, but it’s a struggle each day. He is happy though, his daughter lights up his world and so do you, his new girlfriend who he does want to see when he wakes up.

Instead, Frankie sometimes sees the faces of those left behind, those who he couldn’t save, other times, it might just be blood or his old comrade Tom on that damn mountain a hole in his fucking head. He doesn’t want to burden you with this quite yet, things are new, they’re good. He can’t bear for you to walk away as others have, scared of him, feeling he’s defective in some way. Even Camila’s mother felt that way about him, she told him he’s a wonderful father but a haunted man that can’t let anyone in. That stuck with Frankie in the subsequent years.

Now he’s here, happy that you’re lying next to him, but wondering when it will happen. When his mind will fail him again and he’ll see the past horrors taunt him once more. Thankfully you’re a heavy sleeper, he was sure that he had woken you at your place when he got up in the middle of the night and went for a walk, sat on the couch, read one of your books, scrolled through his phone and then when he was near exhausted, he climbed back into bed. You were never the wiser though, you’d wake up with that gorgeous smile and ask him how he slept, give him a kiss and ask him what he wanted to eat. It was as it should be, no nightmares, no horrid dreams, no violent visions, maybe he got three or four hours of sleep tops, but it was next to someone who treated him like he was normal. He had found that he slept slightly better at your place so he was hoping to keep that going as long as possible. The veteran would get up to four and a half hours of sleep consecutively at your home

Tonight in Frankie’s house was fine, better then fine actually because once again, he made you say nothing but his name for at least an hour. After you both came down from your highs, your boyfriend wiped you down per his routine. If there was one thing you had learned about Frankie, unless he approves, don’t disrupt his routine. He takes special care to wipe you down first then himself, encourages you to use the bathroom followed by himself. Then the pair of you got into bed, his big spoon to your little spoon. A lovely end to a lovely evening. 

Except at one in the morning, you heard whispering. Frankie’s large hands weren’t on your round belly or wide thighs, instead, he had them wrapped around himself as sweat dotted his brow. An unfamiliar grimace was on his face as he mumbled something you couldn’t make out, it didn’t sound like words. You reached to touch his shoulder and he snapped back, he looked at you but his eyes were wide and unfocused. One of his hands grabbed your wrist as he draped you out of bed, he crouched behind the bedroom door. You didn’t say anything at first, shocked by what was happening but you started calling his name, first Frankie which he didn’t answer to, then you tried Francisco, he still gave you nothing. He was rattling off numbers now which were nonsensical. Finally you tried Sergeant Morales which got him to focus on you finally.

It took him a minute, but he recognized you and gasped in horror. Frankie didn’t remember getting out of the bed or grabbing you, ‘a new horror has happened’ he thought as he released your wrist. You actually hadn’t felt your hand for the last few minutes and now that he wasn’t putting any pressure on it, your wrist throbbed in pain, you winced but didn’t want to scare Frankie more than you already assumed that he was. He turned to head toward the kitchen but you stopped him.

“Wait, don’t go. I’m alright Frankie.”

“No you’re not cariño. Look at your wrist…I…”

“You didn’t mean to. I know you would never mean to. Is this…” You paused, taking a deep breath before asking. “Is this why you didn’t want me to sleepover?”

Frankie looks away for a moment, closing his eyes. Is this the moment he loses you? You say it’s fine but like hell it is. He knows your wrist hurts and you’ll be lucky if it doesn’t bruise by morning. You’re one of two people he wanted to be his best self for, you and his daughter, but he’s failed. Shown you what the outcome can be if his mind plays serious enough games with him. He looks into your patient eyes and nods. “Yes. Though not as severe as tonight was, most nights I…I don’t sleep well.”

You surprise him by embracing him, wrapping your soft body against him with your arms around him, massaging his back. “I’m glad I now know Frankie. We’re supposed to be up front with each other right?”

Frankie laid his head on your shoulder, placing a soft kiss on your round shoulder, he was in your arms and felt better, still guilty but better. Maybe you wouldn’t leave right away, he’d have time to convince you to stay at least.

“Frankie, let’s go back to bed, but I’ll be the big spoon this time.” His body stiffened, that was not part of the routine, his regimen with you. Before he could mention this, you’d pulled him back to bed and laid down, patting the pillow beside yourself. The man sighed and laid next to you in bed, giving in to your whim. He rolled on his side and felt your body against his, though your arms, especially your sore wrist didn’t quite make it around him due to the broadness of his back. 

“Cariño, I think we should switch positions. Doesn’t your wrist hurt like that?” You knew Frankie wasn’t wrong, it still pulsed with pain, though slightly less since it had been a few minutes. You decided to turn on your back and patted your chest.

“Lay here then. No funny business though, we have work in the morning.” A playful grin spread across your lips. Frankie let out a happy huff and laid his head on your tender breasts as his chest lay across half your plush belly. One hand patted your head, his fingers rubbing your scalp as his other hand squeezed your hip. 

“This is a lot better. You sure you can sleep like this though? Are you comfortable?” Your boyfriend asked, that was the man you knew, always concerned for your well being, even when you’re trying to get him settled.

“Yes, I can sleep through you having horrible dreams most nights.” You closed your eyes, realizing that may have been a cutting statement to make, but it was mainly directed at yourself. He’s been suffering like this and you didn’t know, slept happily without a care because you don’t remember your dreams but he does and it’s detrimental for him. “Sorry, I just…I would have tried to help you sooner you know. I get why you didn’t tell me. It’s a hellova thing to deal with Frankie.” You feel his body start to relax and to put more of his weight on you, he’s accepting of the position at least, you’re hopeful that it can get him back to sleep with minimal issue.

“Thank you cariño. I don’t deserve your understanding or your kindness.” A small acknowledgement comes from Frankie, though it makes you frown. He shouldn’t speak of himself that way, it’s not his fault his mind is in this state, it took years to become this. You had an arm that was laying across the pillows, above his shoulder, you bent it to place his scalp in your palm grasping and releasing his soft curls.

With a kiss placed on his forehead you told him, “You’re not broken Frankie. You’re entitled to so much from life. I love you and I won’t hear you talk about yourself like that. You’re too important to me.” A heat rose from your cheeks and spread throughout your body, you might burst into flames. You just told this man you loved him and you’ve only been dating him three months, that seems a bit soon. Even if a real tender moment is happening right now, that could sour it a bit or weird it out. You stayed perfectly still, closing your eyes to avoid the look on his face whatever it was. You worry too much.

Frankie is ecstatic with this turn of events. In fact, he too was wondering if it was too soon. Your plush body he loses himself in, your melodic voice where it always sounds like you’re singing his name, Camilla appeared to like you - she didn’t do the stranger danger and waddle away, you make him laugh, his friends liked you, you were aware of his past transporting discretion and although you didn’t excuse it completely, understood that he was trying to make ends meet at the time, enjoyed how comfortable he could be with you even in silence. Why shouldn’t he tell you that he loves you, especially now that you’ve said it first, though he did want to beat you to that originally. Francisco popped his chin up to look at you, your eyes were closed and he snickered, he had horrible dreams and you spun too many things inside that pretty head of yours.

“Look at me, Cariño,” he waited until you made eye contact with him. This was important after all, “I love you too and I also thought it was too soon. We’re on the same page most of the time. Stop spinning and sleep.” A small peck landed on the top of your breast before he laid his head back down.

Soon both of your respirations slowed and you slept until the morning. Frankie did not wake during the night or need an early morning walk. He had the best sleep he’d had in years. You were ecstatic to see him the next morning actually looking well rested for once, sitting on the side of the bed as he said good morning to you. Your hands pressed against his back as did your cheek - a wonderful start to the day for you both.

[shinshi9chen]

How will Sanji comfort your anxiety

English is not my first language, I was encouraged by our excellent SanjiYN authors we love to post my first English work. I use AI and dictionary to help me translate this work, hope this work can make you enjoy! Tags: Modern AU, Fluffy, anxiety

-Have you reached home yet, Daring?

-Yeah.

-I have a surprise for you, I'll be home in fifteen minutes, waiting for me. Love you.

Five minutes later, Sanji rechecks his phone, rules out the possibility that network and signal went wrong, and confirms that it was you who didn't reply and not that he didn't receive it.

Sanji's face regains his composure from the satisfied expression he had on when he edited the first message. The queue is finally over, he smiles softly at the clerk, and when asked what kind of dessert he needs, in addition to what he already wanted, he is pleased, willing, to let the clerk recommend something else, he admires and patiently waits for the clerk to pick up the food and pack it, making him look like the clerk who really serves customers.

But if the clerk could have noticed five minutes earlier Sanji's more vivid and innocent smile, she would have felt that he showed more etiquette at this time.

Women are all angels, but he had already signed the agreement that One man can only belong to One angel, he will not stupidly try to betray his agreement and mess everything up.

Sanji leaves the dessert shop after expressing his appreciation and saying "beautiful lady, goodbye". The paper bag and mobile phone are firmly grasped in his hand, he knows from your chat history that tonight is going to be a difficult night for you. And he only wants to do one thing: help you get back on your feet.

Sanji turns his key, pushes the door, and turns on the light in the hallway. He changes his shoes and begins to call his lovely girl: "Honey, I'm back! Where are you? Let me see you OK? ”

Lying on your side on the couch with your eyes open, looking at your phone screen distractedly, you seem to lose half of your response to the stimulus of the call, you raise your arm and only shake it once.

Sanji places the paper bag on the table in front of you, and sits down beside you, his cold hands holding the one you just put down, looking at you tenderly, expecting your gaze to respond. You raise your gaze and hold your breath for the beauty you saw, but your body seems to have only received a short-acting stimulant, and you lower your head again, with knowing nothing to say.

Your hand is caressed by his, feeling the outside temperature, feeling the contours of his hand, how his bones rise and fall, feeling like exploring a mountain range. He lets you touch a raised mole on the back of his left hand, it feels unique to touch compared to the surrounding skin.

You sigh, "It's cold." You let go of your phone and wrap the back of his hand with this freed hand. Your overlapping hands are now very similar to seaweed sticking to the rice ball, the rice ball is sandwiched with the filling. You start making eye contact again, and his eyes seem to brighten a bit.

"Sorry, it's cold outside. I've got a surprise for you, guess what? ”

"I saw the paper bag, is it dessert?"

"You knew this shop? Yes, it's desserts. I bought cranberry cookies, milk powder cakes, and the clerk also recommended durian mochi, quite strange combination right? ”

He is about to open the paper bag and make the dish arrangement in the kitchen, but you say, "Sanji, I don't have an appetite, I'm not hungry, I just want to sleep until tomorrow."

You've made him feel worried again.

"Alright. Have you had dinner? Do you have nasal congestion and cough? Dizziness? Sore throat? Stomach pain? No, none, great, my love is in good health today. Then what's going on, tell me, okay? "

He carefully avoids direct questioning, because that might be like repeating your long guilt and reproach of yourself. Little by little, he wants to feel your emotions, to gradually get closer the distance between you and his heart, and to carefully inject his power into you.

You sit up with the help of his strength, leaning on his shoulders.

"I have a test and I don't think I could prepare more, but I don't want to fail. But now I can't think about anything but worry, I'm not fit for the test, right? "

He would love to grow one more hand to wipe away your tears, why God let his lover's wisdom be based on low self-esteem and worry? He squeezes your hand and starts kissing your forehead, longing for your tears to be taken away by his kiss.

"No, you've done well enough." He kisses you on the eyebrows, on your closed eyes. His kiss was warm and gentle, feeling like he is approaching to breathe in the aroma of spices, flowers, and food, feeling like the comfortable sunshine in your memory. In such a beautiful season, in such a rare good weather, you are reluctant to leave alone, and you will call him for a walk together and imagine a tomorrow that is not inferior to today.

You really want to go back to that day with him.

You haven't disappointed anyone, you haven't had any worries or frustrations, you only have an intuition that you love each other, that God will bless you, and that you will trust your future.

"Sanji, do you love me?"

"I love you, and the most painful moment I have is the moment when you don't know how much I love you."

"I love you too, and I'm glad you always know I love you."

"You are the best, I can't wait for tomorrow."

"That is too early, let me have a cookie before ten o'clock."

[thedevillionaire]

✍🏼 🌞 💘 😶 😎 !!

✍🏼 Describe your writing process in a way that makes sense to you

I watch movies in my head, and when a scene happens that I particularly enjoy, I mentally rewind and replay it over and over. And some of these movie parts become replayed enough and insistent enough to want to be put into permanent words. So, I write grabs of conversation and any particular critical points of import as notes, write either the opening line or the closing line first, and then fill the rest in. The order varies. I print out the first final draft because I edit better in hardcopy. Then I put the final version away for at least a day - often more - before rereading it to make sure it does, in fact, make sense. Vet it for typos. I don't use spellcheck so I watch the typo factor veeery closely, lol. And done.

🌞 Do you need a specific environment to write? Like music, a certain time of day, a certain type of place? Place is anywhere but I need to be alone. Music has to be lyricless, otherwise I'll get distracted by it. I'm way too stupid in the mornings to write; the bulk of my writing is done late at night. Or at work. I regularly come up with the "that's it! That!" phrase I've been looking for when at work, or shopping, or doing some other damn thing that isn't a good time for writing. I try to take notes of these and get to it properly later on. I write either on my laptop or with pen and paper. I have never written a damn thing on my phone and never will, lol

💘What are some of your favorite things you’ve written and why? Snz specific, presumably! Snz wise, my personal fic fave as an entirety is probably The Twentieth, just in terms of hitting a bunch of Things I Like A Lot buttons, haha, but I'll give a little shout-out specifically to the fit in Four Days, Mostly, which is, uh... You know. One of those scenes I kinda have to walk around the house about.😅 I'm always a bit "maybe this one... No, this one" about favourites, because it varies depending on my mood. But since this is focusing on writing, specifically, I was honestly damn happy with the forestmorph scene in Illusionary, and the Immerse and Possess scene in Panacea.

😶 Is there anything you’ve been wanting to write that you haven’t gotten to yet, or that you don’t feel comfortable tackling at this point in time? This is always a clear-cut answer for me, and will be until I get it done, but... When Cerberus loses his closest friend - or, more specifically, his breakdown after he tries and fails to bring him back. This is a scene I've wanted to write for a very long time, but I continue to find it just too damn emotionally taxing to manage it.

😎How long do you wait to post fics you’ve completed? Do you post them immediately? Do you want a few days? I reread an online and a printed copy of any final version several times, and with at least one night's sleep between readings, before posting. If I post and notice an upfucking, no matter how minor, it will annoy the living crap out of me. I'm much kinder on other people's typos than my own.

[gvtted-ratz]

read all our tags/ratings. they are important and give you all u need to decide if you wanna actually read or not. do not like the tags/rating? do not read.

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DATE NIGHT

Arkin O’ Brien x GN!Reader

Last Edited: 16/04/2024

TW: none

Anon: Short fluff fic of Arkin x reader? Maybe him taking the reader out on a date? please and thank you :3

Word Count: 962

AO3 LINK -> HERE

Notes: We know who sent that, and thank you for it. This is set before they go on the date but plan to go BTW. And yes, Arkin is 32 in this. In 2009, High Steward was 32 when he played Arkin and that’s all we have to go on for his age.

@rppik (editor/co-writer): I like my pathetic divorced Meow Meows UNWELL /lh /don't use that as my editor's note

You’ve known Arkin for a long time. You worked alongside him during his time as a contractor; you knew about his wife, Lisa, and little girl, Cindy. Finally escaping The Collector to find out that Lisa filed divorce papers after he told her to flee completely broke him. He loved his wife, despite her constant gambling and using Cindy as a way to keep him leashed, and watching her leave him after everything he had done to get back to them destroyed the man.

 You had been there throughout the whole shit show, providing as much comfort as you could. Your shitty flat became home to the recovering man, who slept on your couch more than enough times to leave an imprint. Hell, even your bed had become contaminated with his smell on more than one occasion; on some nights, you insisted he spare his back from sleeping on the old piece of junk. But you didn’t kick him out or turn him away. You couldn’t, not when you had seen the previous fights between him and his ex-wife, or how he talked about Cindy in such a caring way, clearly missing her more than air. You couldn't help but want to help the guy, with his unkempt appearance and dark shadows under his eyes being equal parts concerning and somehow handsome on him. And his witty comebacks always made your day, naturally, you had to admit his company wasn't one you minded keeping, even when he was close to hitting rock bottom some days.

You know he doesn’t care for himself like he should, not when he only cared about seeing his kid. With that no longer possible, thanks to Lisa’s papers and custody battle, he would be lucky to see Cindy at all or even get to call her. His will to get better or take care of himself in any way deteriorated rapidly after the decision was finalized; if it wasn’t for your encouragement to shower or eat a little bit, he would have wasted away in your living room.

Of course, you weren't above abusing your professional connections to help, too. An ask here, a bribe there, and the next thing you know, envelopes to small packages full of pictures of Cindy arrived at your work. You would then bring them home to give to Arkin as some sort of gift to show that his baby was okay. He never asked who you talked with to get the photos, and you never told him, either; neither of you minded crossing some lines if it helped. 

And it did help him– The life in the man started to slowly, but surely, trickle back into his being. His eyes seemed brighter, and he started to take care of himself a bit more. He’d even gone back to his previous job as a contractor. He didn’t move out, though, not that you minded him sticking around. To others, it might have been awful to have someone you had helped get back on their feet not go on to leave your home. For you, however, it was just another thing you had hoped would happen, coming to fruition. 

The man you’ve been pining after for years, a best friend and romantic interest, staying with you? While you should feel awful he had to lose his wife and kid for it to happen, you couldn’t help but feel glad in a way. All the same, you couldn’t help but want him to still have some sort of access to Cindy. He loves her, you know, and wouldn’t take that away from him for the world. Even if it meant using some favours on your part, to see him happy and becoming healthy was all you cared about.

At some point, your feelings for him became an open secret, as sharing a living space with the man meant that little could go unnoticed between you two for long; you had yet to breach the topic explicitly, however, knowing he needed time to recover from his previous relationship. It’s on a day both of you are off work that you spring the idea of a date up, if only to test the waters.

“It can be between friends if you prefer, Arkin. I just thought we could go out,” you tell him. You don’t want to force him into joining you if he really doesn’t want to.

“Depends. Where are we goin’?” He’s relaxed on the couch, looking at some of the blueprints for another bit of decor needed on a house he’s going to be working on soon.

“The museum. The one a few blocks away from the bar you used to frequent before that guy happened,” you reply, hinting at The Collector but not outright saying the mass-murderer’s title for Arkin’s peace of mind.

“Is it any good?”

“Depends,” is your answer, echoing his early answer in a teasing tone of voice. You can hear him snort in good humour.

“We can go. Let me just put away these papers. Do I have to dress up?” You give him a quick look over before shaking your head.

“You can dress down for all I care. As long as you have something to cover your muscles.” The pillow cushion that hits you in response makes you laugh. You couldn’t help but poke fun at the other.

“Alright, alright. I’ll throw on my shoes. But you can’t go teasing me like that, I’m too old for it,” he insists lightly.

“You’re thirty-two, Arkin! You’re hardly old, Asshat.” His laughter from your bedroom gets that warm feeling in your gut to curl up close to your heart. Yeah, you’re pretty lucky to have this asshat in your life, despite the circumstances that brought you two together.