#also pretty close to done with this chapter

[lokisprettygirl]

Fix You Fix me (Bill Skarsgård! Eric Draven x Female Reader) (Au)

Read Chapter 12 here / Series Masterlist

Chapter 13

Summary : Eric's birthday comes with surprises.

Warning: Fat shaming, body shaming, manipulation, domestic violence, child abuse, cheating, reader lacks bit of a spine, emotional abuse, reader's weight will be mentioned because the fic demands it

Patricia's very own recipe of lamb roast was in the oven, the vegetables were being sauted on the stove.

You stood at the counter beside Patricia, sleeves rolled up, carefully mixing a pot of herbed mashed potatoes. Patricia, seated in her wheelchair at the far end of the island that was modified for her, carefully chopping up the parsley.

Eric and Chance were at the gym, you had gotten off work early to help with the dinner as you had promised her in the hospital that day. Stella was in incharge of decoration, you could hear her voice from the living room, chatting along with Shelly.

“Stella ..call them ..ask how long will it take”

“I'll do it.. almost done with this” you said as you wiped your hands on the apron before grabbing your phone.

Patricia couldn't help but smile, she had noticed a change in you lately, as well Eric, both of you had been spending a lot of time together and she couldn't have been happier.

After three rings Eric picked up the phone-

“Hey..how long will it take? Patricia wants to know”

You asked him, he was quiet for a moment.

“Sending Chance to bring you here, we will do the session and then we can head back together” he answered so you smiled.

“Uhhh Can you say it again? I didn't hear you” you put your phone on the speaker.

“I said I'm sending Chance to pick you up.. we will finish your session and then get back to mama’s”

You placed your hand on the waist as you and Patricia passed a look of disbelief at each other. Even on his birthday he didn't want to take a break.

“Okay..see you in fifteen” you mumbled as you hung up finally. “So lamb is in the oven.. potatoes and veggies are done, dessert is ready..we are not missing anything right?” You asked as you took the apron off.

“Not at all dear, you go and bring the birthday boy back..but come here first and give me a hug for being such a darling”

You smiled as she said that before approaching her and bending down to give her a hug. As you entered the living room you let out an audible gasp.

“Oh my god you guys are magicians” you said so Shelly bowed down dramatically.

“You like it?” Stella asked you, the grin you had on your face was enough.

“Liking it is an understatement..this is like heaven for him..nice touch with the dumbbell shaped balloons”

“Chop chop..boss’s order” Chance said as soon as he entered so you stared at him “No you stay here and have fun now..I'm gonna walk..won't have to warm up”

“Are you sure?” He asked again so you smiled before heading out of the door..

You stopped at your apartment to grab your duffel bag. Fifteen minutes later you stood at the gate of the Crow. Gym was fairly busy but Eric had put up the online notice in advance that it would be closed by 5 that day.

As you didn't see him, you knocked on the door of his small room, he was probably resting after a session with the client.

As he opened up he gave you a smile. His hair seemed wet and curled at the edges, he was all ready to leave after your session.

“Hey birthday guy” he looked at you from head to toe. You had a beautiful dress on.

“You're going to work out in a dress?” He asked, internally wincing at the comment, that's not what he was supposed to say when a woman looked so pretty.

“I came all prepared mister” you patted the duffel bag.. “also brought my makeup because I know you are going to ruin it in an hour”

Not exactly how he wanted to ruin your makeup right now.

“All prepared then”

“Hurry up..we need to leave by 5:30” you said to him before you headed for the changing/shower area.

After the session finished you decided to go take a shower and change quickly while Eric would prepare to close the gym.

“You didn't have to show up early..you could have come in the evening ..i hope it wasn't much trouble getting out of work early” you turned around to look at him as he said that.

“And here i thought we were friends”

You joked as you turned to head for the showers but he immediately grabbed your arm.

There was almost a look of panic on his face.

“We are..we uhh we are friends..that's not what I meant -”

“I was just joking..” you mumbled softly, brows furrowing slightly, the last thing you wanted to do today was upset him.

“Ohh” he let go of your arm and scratched the back of his neck.

“Ummm you get ready I'll close up..there's a bathroom in my room if you want some privacy or uhh- nevermind” he turned around and headed back to the gym area. You couldn't help but smile. You had never seen him this way before so it surprised you a little.

You still remember how intimidated you were the first day, how indifferent he was when he spoke to you, and so strict like a school teacher. A lot has changed in the last few months.

The thought of not having Jake still hurt, especially when your mom kept urging you to forgive and forget but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. You had three missed calls from him just this morning, and a few messages where he begged you to speak to him.

Half an hour later you were showered, dressed and ready to go back to Patricia's apartment.

He usually preferred the walk, but there was a bike Eric kept at the gym for emergency purposes. Besides he really didn't want to ruin your look, he could tell you felt pretty in your dress and makeup and he wanted to keep it that way.

As you both came out of the back door you stared at him.

“You're not seriously thinking of putting me on the back of that thing in a dress, are you?” you asked him, making him chuckle.

“Why not? You said you were all prepared.” he asked as he sat down and put the keys in the ignition.

“Here put it on” he gave you the helmet so you reluctantly took it.

“Just hold onto me..I won't let you fall” he mumbled softly, your heartbeat sped at the sound of his voice.

I won't let you fall.

Why did it sound so sweet from his lips?

You rolled your eyes just for pretense. There was something kind of thrilling about riding on his bike with him, felt truly personal like you were officially part of his world, his life.

“Where is your helmet?” You asked as you somehow managed to sit on the bike without flashing everything to the world.

“That is mine..I'll get another one tomorrow..for you”

He said nonchalantly. Did he even realise how his words came across? You didn't think he did.

He wheeled the bike so you hesitated briefly before wrapping your arms around his waist. You felt him exhale a bit deeper at that.

The ride was short, five minutes tops, but something about the wind and the way your hands fit around him made time bend. When you finally reached Patricia’s building, Eric parked the bike in the basement and waited as you climbed off, as you passed him the helmet, he smiled as he looked at your face, your hair was all over your face so he tucked them behind your ear.

“Not a strand out of place,” he said, nodding at you with an almost shy half-smile.

“I'm never getting on that thing again -”

Oh that was a lie. You were hoping to get on that thing again and have your arms wrapped around his waist.

The door to Patricia's apartment was already open and as soon as you both entered, sounds and cheers of birthday wishes echoed around the living room..

“Ahh, there’s my boy,” Patricia said as she wheeled towards him. “And look at you two—right on time.”

Eric bent down and kissed her cheek before he placed his head down on her shoulder for a moment. “Thank you beautiful..Smells amazing here.”

“That’s because your friend” Patricia turned and smiled at you “was the perfect sous-chef.”

“You're too kind to me” You said, a smile never leaving your face as you watched him look around the room in surprise,

“This is amazing..best thing i have ever seen” he said as he grabbed one of the dumbbell shaped balloons.

He hugged Stella and then first bumped Chance and Shelly for putting so much effort into making his day special. This was all he wanted, just a nice evening with people he cared about.

After the celebration and cake cutting it was time for dinner. The table was already set, thanks to Stella and Shelly.

“Everyone sit, sit” Patricia insisted, waving her hand like a conductor of an orchestra. “Lets eat before this roast dries out and I have to come to terms with failure”

“You could serve it raw and we’d still eat it like it’s gourmet,” Shelly said, already plopping into her seat with a wide grin.

“Speak for yourself,” Chance muttered under his breath, making everyone laugh.

Eric pulled out a chair for you without saying a word. It was a simple gesture, very subtle, but it didn’t go unnoticed. Not by Patricia and definitely not by you.

“Thank you Mr. Draven” you said as you sat down, trying to hide how giddy the gesture had made you feel. You were trying to remember the last time Jake had made you feel a certain way.

“You're welcome”

He sat beside you, knees brushing once, and then twice before they settled too close to be casual.

You watched as he poured Patricia a glass of water, then he did the same with yours.

Did he want you to cry or something?

“You okay?” he asked under his breath as the others passed around the bowls.

“Yeah” you said, and then added, “This is nice.”

He gave you a little sideways smile, the kind you were beginning to recognize as vulnerable. “Yeah…it really is”

Patricia carved the lamb with practiced ease, passing slices around the table. Mashed potatoes, vegetables sautéed in butter and garlic were then heaped on the plates..

“For someone who claims she is not a good cook, you’ve done a fine job,” Patricia said to you as she took a spoonful of mashed potatoes. You felt so bashful, this wasn't something you had in your life before, your parents were always critical of your life choices, Jake wasn't any different.

“Can we do this every week?” Shelly said through a mouthful of vegetables “Like Sunday dinners or something?”

“You just want more of the potatoes” Chance accused.

“So what if I do? These are heavenly..the roast, the potatoes.. everything else .. muaaah” she kissed her fingers, making Patricia smile..

Eric was off carbs, the competition was nearing, so he feasted on the lamb, but you did see him grabbing a spoon and tasting the potatoes from Patricia's plate. Just because you had made it.

The rest of the evening was a blur to you, you couldn't keep your eyes off him, not just in a sexual, physical way, he just seemed happy, happier than you had seen him before.

While you were in the kitchen helping Stella place the dishes in the sink, your phone began ringing on the coffee table in the living room. Eric picked it up but as he saw Jake's name flashing on the screen he kept it down. Why was he calling you? Did you two still speak regularly? He didn't want to think of that, not after he knew about how Jake treated you.

As you stepped out of the kitchen, you bumped into his chest.

A nervous laughter escaped your lips as you moved to the left to go your way but he mirrored you and then as you moved to the right, so did he, clashing into each other again. To pull you both out of the loop he grabbed your shoulders gently and flipped you around so now you stood out of each other's way.

Later that night as Patricia finally took her medicine, she felt drowsy and bid a goodnight to each one you before she went to bed, Eric then took it upon himself to drop you home.

You followed him outside and then into the basement. He handed you his helmet without saying a word, his fingers brushing yours. Then he took off his Jacket..

“Put this on..it's a bit chilly” he said so you grabbed the jacket.

This was the second time he had put you above him, just in a day.

You climbed behind him, your hands hovering for a second before resting lightly on his sides. The moment your palms made contact with the firm shape of his torso, your breath caught. He was warm, so warm.

He revved the engine, and the vibration of it buzzed through you, straight down to your spine and your core but that was solely because of him.

The ride was fast and smooth. The streets blurred around you, all you could focus on was the feel of him beneath your hands. Every curve of the road made your grip tighten, and every time you did, he leaned back slightly into your touch.

When he finally pulled up in front of your building, you were reluctant to let go. You climbed off slowly, heart hammering, helmet still in your hand.

He stopped the engine and looked back at you over his shoulder. “You good?”

You nodded, even though your legs still felt like jelly.

“Thanks” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

“I should be thanking you,” he replied immediately as he got off the bike.

“No for everything.. everything you do Eric..you're pretty amazing..as a son, as a friend, as a person.. I hope you know that” his eyes moistened as you said that. He wasn't expecting that.

If only you knew about his past, you wouldn't be saying that, he thought.

“Goodnight Eric” you mumbled softly so he nodded and leaned against his bike with his arms crossed. You knew he wouldn't leave until you were up and inside your apartment.

The moment you reached your floor the you realised you still had his jacket, you didn't want him to catch cold so you immediately called him.

“Hey you forgot your jacket” You chuckled lightly as soon as he picked up. “Please come take it”

He let out a hum of amusement before he hung up, you watched the elevator going down and then coming up with him in it.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you tried to take it off, but the sleeve snagged on your wrist. You struggled with it, laughing under your breath at how clumsy and nervous you suddenly felt. And then the elevator dinged at your floor.

His eyes met yours, and everything felt too quiet, too tense. You held the jacket halfway off, sleeves tangled awkwardly around your arms.

“I swear I’m not keeping it on purpose..i just have fat wrists” you chuckled but as he stepped closer the intensity in his eyes made your breath hitch.

“Don't ever say that again..your wrists are adorable” you bit on your lips at the compliment you didn't you'd ever hear from anyone else ever again.

He reached forward and gently helped untangle the sleeve from your wrist. His fingers brushed your skin.. and they lingered there, fingers gently caressing over the wrists you had just insulted, his eyes rose to meet yours, and then the dam broke.

You both moved at the same time.

His mouth found yours..hot, insistent, like he’d been holding back for years. You gasped softly against him, gripping his shirt as he pulled you closer. The jacket fell down on the floor.

Your back hit the door. His hands framed your face, his large frame hiding yours between him and the door, he seemed desperate like he needed to feel every inch, needed to ground himself in the certainty that this was happening. He needed to make sure this wasn't a dream.

You barely had time to catch your breath.

His lips moved over yours with a hunger that awakened something in you, there were sparks everywhere. He kissed like a man who had been starving for years and you had never been kissed this way before. Never. You melted into him like a wax under the heat, your hands slipping under his shirt, fingers traced over his abs. He groaned softly as your bodies pressed flush. You could feel the tension radiating off him, his fingers clutched around your waist.

Your back arched slightly against the door as he pressed closer to you. His tongue brushed yours and you whimpered before you could stop yourself. That sound of your whimper seemed to undo something in him. He pulled you closer, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other cradling the side of your neck as he craned your head up to kiss you deeply.

You kissed him harder, fingers threading at the nape of his neck. And for a moment, it was as if the time had paused just for you two.

But then he slowed down.

He kissed you one last time, softer this time, almost apologetically before pressing his forehead to yours. You felt the shift in him before he even spoke.

He was pulling back.

His breath was shaky, uneven. His hands were still on your waist, but his grip had loosened.

“I can't” he whispered, his voice wrecked with longing but also fear.

“What?” you looked at him confused. What did he mean?

His eyes teared up as he finally stepped away from you.

“I don't want to be your rebound, I can't” he said, voice low, almost broken.

“You’re not. You’re not the rebound Eric” you spoke, but you didn't blame him for feeling that way. You had been with Jake for more than two years and it has been just four months since you left him.

“You don’t know that yet, do you?”

He reached down, picked up the jacket from the floor, folding it once in his hands. His eyes lingered on you like it hurt to look away.

Then, without another word, he turned and walked toward the elevator. You stood frozen by the door, lips parted, chest heaving, overwhelmed by everything that had just happened and how it had made you feel.

The elevator doors slid shut behind him.

And for the longest time, you just stood there.. breathless, your body still burning where he had touched you, your lips still trembling from the kiss.

******

Next morning when Eric told Patricia about the encounter last night, she scolded him like a child, calling him a fool for not seeing that the woman he had adored for years felt the same way about him. Patricia could tell there was something more than just friendship from your end, perhaps you didn't know it yet but she did.

Eric didn't want to lose you to someone else ..not again. He had to tell you how he felt, how he had always felt since he met you so he took her advice.

Around 2 pm the same day he decided to go see you. The book in his hand, heart in his throat.

A sense of deja vu washed over him as he took nervous steps towards the library. But then his worst nightmare came true.

Again.

You were standing outside the library, Jake was on his knees in front of you, a ring in his hand, you were crying too. He then got up and kissed you.

For a second, everything went black. He was watching the same scene unfold in front of him but this time it felt worse. Because now he knew you. He knew you better, he was no longer just the man who admired you from a distance, he knew you, and he loved you. Knew what it felt like to hold you in his arms, to kiss you the way he had done last night.

And he had let himself hope. Hope for more, hope for you to see him, to choose him this time. As the tear finally rolled down his cheek he turned around to leave, just the way he had done all those years ago. Maybe you weren't just meant for him and maybe he needed to accept that, so he turned on his heel and left.

The only difference being, this time you had noticed him. You had finally noticed.

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Note: I don't know how it happens but chapter 13 is always somehow the breakthrough chapter in most of my series.

Taglist @loushaw131460 @wiseyouthinfluencer @purplerainx1 @bloodykisserr @muchwita @mariaenchanted @a-differentbrandof-beans @kikibit @venuslayla23-blog @somedayimagines @sn0wybowie-blog

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 197 (Furever Friends)

Heather finally finished her video game in the early days of summer. Furever Friends: Stray Valley was an instant hit, giving her notability as a newcomer to the gaming development scene.

She remodeled the roof with the game's windfall, but techie Heather wasn't really interested in the perks of fame. She wasn't even that interested in meeting calls from fans for an immediate sequel - designing the first had taken years, and she felt more fulfilled building on the success of Buttercup Pet Clinic.

But Heather was still a geek at heart - designing video games may not have been her calling, but she couldn't resist writing a companion essay to release alongside the video game, about each of the stray pet characters who travelled the earth in search of 'furever friends.'

It was a niche project for only the game's most hardcore fans, but the work made her excited after long hours writing mind-numbing code for the game itself.

(Heather randomly rolled 'write an essay on niche fandom' for a bucket list want because of her geek trait, and I thought diving into the lore of her own video game was suitably niche!)

She was also thrilled to be able to sit down and play the game with her family. Roan was still too young, but she spent hours challenging Conrad, Ash, and Lavender.

Because she knew the code by heart, she usually let them win, taking more joy in watching them explore the game world - conceptualized by @igglemouse's talented artist Marisol Quesada, and mentored in execution with the help of @oimygiblets' overachieving genius (Cali Skye's younger brother!), Calvin Anthony Jr.

The family spent plenty of time with their own 'furever friends,' too. Both dogs, Gord and Captain Whitaker, were loving and friendly pets, following their humans everywhere they went.

It took Heather a long time to teach their resurrected retriever to leave the chickens and the coop alone! Lavender and Gord were particularly close, and she often tried to convince him to help train out Captain Whitaker's bad habits.

A heat wave hit the Bay leading up to Ash's birthday. In the summer sunshine, Conrad helped his stepson try to master his bike. Ash could ride pretty well, but he wanted to be even better. (Spoiler: He didn't get the milestone, but I tried! His childhood was affected by forever winter, a kidnapping, discovering time travel...It was a lot!)

Artistic Lavender was often found doing arts and crafts when not practicing her violin. She'd even begun working on an extra credit castle diorama project like her older brother had done when he was younger. This excited her parents, because it gave the perfectionist something to focus on besides her missing idol, Layne Coffin.

Ash and Heather joined her outside with plates of food while she worked. Ash gave her tips to complete it when she asked, but mostly discussed plans for his upcoming birthday with their mother.

He intended to invite family to spend a day on Deadgrass Isle, but he also planned to invite his three closest friends - Arun Kalani, Scotti Holiday, and Pearl Richards was even planning to visit all the way from San Myshuno.

"San My Ballet Company is doing a performance of The Beauty and the Beast and she's the youngest professional in the whole show," he said proudly. "But she said they're not rehearsing on the day of my birthday because it's a holiday."

Heather smiled. "It's always great to see Pearl!"

"Do you think she's coming all the way out here for your birthday because she likes you? Like the girls who went all the way to Tartosa to date Deanna York!"

"We're friends, Lavender," he said quickly, shoveling another bite of food into his mouth. "She's too old for me; don't be weird!"

Without another word after a stern eye from her mother, Lavender returned to moulding precisely with her clay as the whirr of crickets filled the peaceful evening. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

Once again, crediting @matchalovertrait and @opalsimmer for naming Heather's video game! It's iconic and I love it, thank you both so much! On a good day, she'll collect over 200 simoleons in royalties from this thing, too. If she actually liked programming, I'd consider that sequel!

[twicethetrouble]

Writing Family Web Daily: Day 8

“Tranquilizer gun.”

“I’m not using an unfinished tranquilizer on you.”

“But the darts are done,” April interrupted. “That’s what Donnie said a few days ago, right? That the darts are done, just not the gun part.”

“Not you too.”

“I’m just saying, if we have to do this, it’s an option.”

“No it’s not! Tranquilizers aren’t the same as anesthesia!”

“Close enough,” Donnie signed. “Do it.”

“No! I’m not carving you like a damn pumpkin! I don’t-“

“Time out,” April called before things could get more heated. She grabbed Leo’s arm and lead him away towards the door. “We’re gonna talk.”

“But Donnie-“

“Is fine for two minutes. We’re not going far anyways,” She replied. Once the two of them were firmly in the hallway she spoke again. “Look, I know this isn’t the best idea but I don’t see us having much of a choice right now.”

“We can come up with something else.”

“What, Leo?”

“I don’t know. Something. Anything is better than having to use a knife on my brother,” Leo stressed, his nails digging into his palms as he clenched his fists enough that he swore he felt the bones creak.

April sighed, pulling him down some so she could wrap him in a proper hug. He relented, resting his forehead on her shoulder but not reciprocating. Instead, he just stood there, trying to focus on the comforting feel of his big sister’s embrace and not the conversation they were having.

“I know this is hard,” she said softly.

“I’m the medic,” he muttered back. “I’m supposed to help, not hurt.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to hurt him.”

“He’s already hurting,” April stated. “And this is the fastest way to make it stop.”

“I don’t want to do it,” Leo said even quieter.

“We don’t have much of a choice right now,” April said back, rubbing circles against his shell. “Even if we could find someone in the Hidden City that would do it right now, they wouldn’t know the first thing about your guys’s anatomy. You are the leading expert in mutated turtles, and the one most likely to do this properly.”

“Dad knows more,” Leo tried to argue.

“I highly doubt that,” April stated. “Plus he doesn’t have nearly as steady of a hand as you.”

“All that eyeliner practice comes in clutch, huh?” Leo joked quietly.

“Exactly,” April answered with a chuckle. “It can’t be much worse than doing a perfect wing tip on a squirming Mikey, and I’ve seen you pull that off. You can do this too. And I’m going to be right here helping you. Ok?”

Leo was silent for a long moment. He knew this was necessary. Deep down he knew as soon as Donnie had requested it. There wasn’t anything else he could do, besides letting it work itself out. But considering how much pain that would cause him, and the risks that went along with it, that really wasn’t an option either. But that didn’t stop his stomach churning at the mere thought of it.

“Ok?” April prompted again.

“Fine,” he relented, straightening up out of the hug with a sigh.

“Where are we doing this?” she asked, immediately switching into business mode.

“Don’s lab. It’s the closest to a sterile work environment we have around these parts,” Leo stated. “This is the one time I’ll say this, thank Pizza for Donnie’s inherent need to de-germ everything in the place.”

“What are we going to need?”

“Most of it should be in the lab, but I’ll probably need the spare gauze and saline bottles from my room.”

“I’ll get them. You get a space ready, yeah?”

“Yeah, let’s just… get this over with.”

[doodlingwren]

Tried to make a character reference for Mariya from the new Saint Seiya spinoff since I couldn't find a character turnaround 🎀✨

Mostly I drew this for practice purposes and well, for having a reference of her outfits. Might be useful in the future... who knows!

Hope you like it! 🌟

[meownotgood]

THAT'S 60,000 WORDS LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOO!!

[zestyzigzagoon]

Alternate Chasing Sunsets summaries:

Hallmark Christmas movie except it's not christmas and there's horses, but the spirit's still there

Accidental Stardew Valley AU

Manic pixie dream girl got a little too manic with it and now she's living in a red dead redemption 2 set piece

People say that the dead mom trope is overused but I went and used it a little bit more just to make sure

Take brokeback mountain. okay. and then immediately discard it because it's actually nothing like that

Or, the fic in which I've held back on at least fifteen euphemistic riding jokes (but wait! there's more)

50k+ of me accidentally giving myself a thing for cowboys, I think?

This is really just an excuse for me to visit my local barn more often

[cbk1000]

Hey, so since I’m a lying liar who still hasn’t posted this fic, here’s another preview.

Then there was the dreadful scene with Mrs Brown, who had them out for a look at an elderly horse, in an elderly barn. Those venerable ancients, all three of them, were standing together, with the backs all bent by time or wind, when Merlin turned the truck into the drive, and got out, still taunting Arthur for his superior taste in music; which at least was nothing to do with Gwaine. They got out the kit, put on their wellies, and jogged up to meet her, before she could go limping down the drive, and would have to go limping back up it. She seemed to be in more agony than the horse, who had rearranged his weight to coddle his left front foot, and said, before Merlin had even opened his mouth, thereby breaking some kind of land speed record, “He won’t put his foot down. Do you think there’s anything terribly wrong with it?”

“Well, we’ll just take a look,” Merlin said, and put down the bag, and calling out to the horse, “All right, sir, let’s have a look,” picked up the hoof. He was bent over it only a moment. “It’s thrush.” 

“What’s that? He’s not dying is he, poor dear?” she asked, sounding as if it would have killed her herself.

“Well, if left too long, it can lame a horse, but it won’t kill them. Although if he’s not vaccinated against tetanus, that can get in through a damaged frog.” She gave him a blank look. “Thrush is a bacterial infection that eats away at the tissue of the frog, so if it damages it too severely, it leaves the horse vulnerable to other infections.”

“Oh dear. What’s this business about a frog? Nasty, invasive buggers.”

Merlin’s face looked like Arthur’s felt. “Erm. First horse, I’m guessing?”

“Oh, yes. He was a neighbour’s, and they were going to pack him off to the slaughterhouse, can you believe that, so I said, ‘You will not, I’ve a lovely barn for him right here’ and I talked them round from murdering the poor old chap, and here he is. We’re getting on, the pair of us, a couple of old buggers seeing out our last years together. Just like a big dog he is, lovely, honestly, aren’t you, love?” she asked the horse, who butted his head against her hand. “He’s the most perfect gentleman there ever was, and they were going to murder him without human feeling! I don’t believe this world we’re living in.”

Arthur scratched his nose. He had housed enough horses of other owners to know that people viewed their animals rather like they viewed their children; little respectful darlings who had never gone or spoken awry, because of the simple qualification that they were theirs: and so if they had appeared to have done wrong, it was because of some flawed perception in the mistaken perceiver. If she had called him a dog, it was very likely he was a demon: and they would have to cut the bad tissue out of his hoof, and wash it down with treatment, a practice discouraged by even the most genuinely gentlemanly of equines. He looked sideways at Merlin, who he found was looking sideways at him. They both had that natural perception of accomplished horsemen, and knew looking at the presently placid figure it was shortly to be one of strife. He had let Merlin pick up the hoof without any protest; but whether he would consent to beyond that was still to be seen.

It was Arthur’s job to keep the horse from killing Merlin, which he did by letting the fellow get a good sniff at him, and talking to him in a low voice, in the hopes of earning his esteem; he had handled his share of unruly horses undergoing procedures they did not care to be part of, and decided to start with a neck twitch, after they had led him into his stall, where he would have less room to manoeuver, and Merlin could work, hopefully, in relative safety. He grabbed a roll of loose flesh on the neck, and squeezed it, getting a surprised look in return: but no other sign of upheaval. 

“Maybe you should pick out his hoof,” Merlin said, getting out his instruments, and rolling up his sleeves. “If he kicks you in the head, it won’t make any difference.”

“Oh right, because your head is the one at greater risk.”

Merlin eyed him as he picked up the hoof once more, and tucked the horse’s leg between his own. “If I die, tell your sister I’m sorry I couldn’t be her first victim for the insurance money. It would have been great, up till she killed me.”

Arthur rolled his eyes.

Then the horse, sensing this was to be a different thing altogether, jerked the hoof in Merlin’s hands, and thrust the whole body straight up, almost a kind of levitation, whilst Merlin clung to the hoof, and Arthur clung to the halter, pushing into the huge body as it tried to swing round on Merlin, and their observer said in abject delight, “Oh, he’s like a young man again! I’ve never seen him move like that.”

“Right, it’s a bloody miracle,” Arthur said through his teeth. He was putting his whole weight into his task. He was between Merlin, scraping determinedly at the hoof, and Merlin, smashed to bits on the stall wall. 

“Where are you lads from?” she asked, leaning on the stall door whilst he fended off the horse’s teeth. “I’m from Manchester, myself. I can’t place your accent, young man,” she said, to whom he did not know; and not waiting for the unknown young man to state his origins, began to expound upon hers. The horse tried to rear; and Arthur, holding the halter with everything he was, inserted a strained, “Mm hmm” where she obviously expected one to be; and Merlin, restraining a truly incalculable number of curses, said, “Oh yeah, lovely country up there” whilst he was retrieving the solution, which he did by leaping sideways, to get out of the way of the hoof he had abandoned, flinging himself against the side of the stall as Arthur pushed the horse away from him, and the horse, robbed of his victim, bit Arthur instead.

Fucking fuck fuck cunt, said Arthur’s brain; whilst his mouth was the inviolable stalwart of chivalry. “Lovely, yeah,” it said to the woman, whilst her precious goblin was standing on his foot, and she was asking whether he wasn’t the dearest old dear of existence.

“Now you’ll be coming in for tea; I want to hear all about you,” she said, and left them, after listening to Merlin’s instructions on cleaning the hoof, to gather their equipment and meet her in a sitting room which looked to their exhausted bodies a kind of Promised Land: and into which they heaved themselves, having cleaned themselves as well as they could with a water bottle and bad language. She gave them little frail teacups on saucers, which looked absurd in Merlin’s large battered hand, and laid on the table a startling array of biscuits, saying as she did so, “You eat as much as you like; I’d have you for supper as well, if I didn’t know you two were hard-working young lads who needed to get on with their day. And tell me, how did you meet, and don’t worry, I always vote for the Liberal Democrats, so you don’t need to worry about anything here, I may be old, but I’m not old-fashioned. Lovely, the pair of you.”

“Erm. Well. Arthur runs a breeding farm. My uncle has a veterinarian practice and he’s getting on, so I’ve come down to take over the field work that’s harder on him. We kind of transitioned from client-vet to assistant-vet.”

Arthur had stiffened on the sofa. He did not know how she had spotted what were his seething but subtle feelings; but she had clocked them, and was about to innocently out them.

“Oh, no, that’s not nearly as romantic as I’d hoped--”

“I think we had better get on to Freya’s, hadn’t we?” Arthur asked, something he had never before suggested with such (or any) enthusiasm. Merlin looked at him. Then he looked at Mrs Brown, and went horrifically pale.

“Oh. Oh, no, we’re like, you know--professional partners. Not partners partners. We’re not--yeah. Arthur’s--and I’m not. Interested in that sort of thing. With him. That’s--we’re friends. He’s more like--a brother. You know. Yeah. Erm. It’s--professional. Our. Partnership.”

“Why didn’t you just say, ‘Oh, not that horrid old toe rag’ and be done with it?” Arthur asked as they returned to the truck, not through his teeth, though it might have sounded that way.

“Well, what the hell did you want me to say? She thought we were fucking, for some reason. I can’t have something like that following me round.”

“Right, you wouldn’t want to sully your heretofore impeccable reputation for madness with good taste,” Arthur snapped. He did not slam the door of the truck after he had got in; but he did think about having been reduced to the non-sexual realm of family, and shut it with enthusiasm. “Your brother.”

[discordiansamba]

I only have four fics left until all of my VLD fics have gotten an update... exciting stuff (at least to me).

[aria0fgold]

I'm doing it yall... I'm getting back to writing again! I'm preparing to write a fanfic that isn't any of the 3 ongoing fics I already have, I'm so sorry.

[esote-rika]

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐭 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Category: Smut 18+ MDNI

Summary: Teasing your virgin boyfriend was all fun and games, until he’s too worked up to function. When the layers of clothing fall off, you’re in for a delightfully large surprise.

Content: 3.2k words, virgin!Spencer, kinda sub undertones, he’s hung af and really fucking whiny, fingering, hand jobs, raw p in v but reader is on the pill, multiple orgasms, Spencer cries because he needs it so bad, reader wears lip gloss, dacryphilia (lemme know if I missed anything)

a/n: Truly just 3.2k words of filth. I wrote this instead of the next chapter for my thesis and I have no regrets. Also, a lot of my italicized words got lost because formatting on the app truly is the bane of my existence, but I reached a personal milestone and wanted to celebrate! So yay, here's a fic as a thank you for supporting my blog and writings ❤️

Sometimes dating Spencer Reid meant throwing subtlety out the goddamn window; the man wouldn’t know subtext if it hit him square on his beautiful, perfectly sculpted face. All your subtle attempts to seduce him have all been entirely unsuccessful, and you're beginning to wonder if he even wants you that way. 

In your defense, you've been dating for over two months now and he still hasn't initiated anything beyond making out. It’s been making you antsy. Of course, his hesitation is nice. It comes from a place of respect after all, and there’s something endearing about his gentle touches, large hands ghosting over your body. You appreciate this easy, steady pace you've set for the relationship. 

But after a particularly busy week for both of you, you've been left aching and needy for something more. 

When you finally found a time that works for both of your schedules, you decided it would be time to make your move. Fuck waiting for him to initiate. You can do it yourself. You'd been subtle about it at first—a hand on his thigh, a few inches higher than where you'd normally place it, lips running over his jaw. 

The man had simply laughed nervously, and returned with a kiss to your forehead.

Briefly, you wondered if it truly is because he's not into you that way. However, that thought flits right out of your pretty head when you see the unmistakable tent slowly forming in his pants. 

So you’d upped your actions, nibbling at his earlobe in the middle of dessert, fingers trailing up his inner thigh, dangerously close to his crotch. Screw subtlety. (And hopefully, him too.) By the time you two sat in the back of the cab, he’s a squirming mess.

“S-stay the night?” he’d been so shy about it you debated teasing him a little more. Maybe if you weren’t so horny, you would have, but relief had simply flooded your veins. Finally. So you nod, teased him a little more in the back of the cab until he had to grab your wrists and hold them in place, because he swore he’d probably come in here just from one more brush of your palm. The lightest pressure and he’d be a goner, a pathetic mess, and you hadn’t even really done anything. 

There had been no build up once you got into his apartment. Simply an exchange of quick, sloppy kisses, Spencer pushing you deeper into his house until the couch hits the back of your knees and both of you came tumbling down. He’s already rutting his hips against your thigh, his erection hot even through his slacks. Clumsy fingers strip off fabric and shoes, leaving them strewn haphazardly on his living room floor.

You had pushed him away then, grinning enticingly as you went to straddle his lap. You ground your hips in circular motions against his still clothed crotch, gasping as the obvious bulge gives you even more traction to rub on. 

“No fair,” he whines, fingers leaving crescent shaped indents on your hips, “P-please stop teasing, you’ve been doing it all night.”

He’s so tightly wound it’s almost pathetic. He’s lucky you’ve some semblance of mercy left in your body, because you could probably come undone just from the friction that came by dry humping him. But you relent, sitting back on his thighs as you tug at his underpants. 

“All right baby, since you asked so nicely.”

Thus exposing what’s going to be the small issue of the night.

Rather, the large issue.

His cock springs free and for a moment you just stare at it. Red, veiny, pulsing and huge. Larger than anyone you’ve been with, larger than even the toys that hide in that one drawer in your bedroom closet.

“W-what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You paled a little.”

A shaky laugh escapes your lips, “You didn’t tell me you were hung.”

His eyebrows scrunch, so ridiculously adorable you have to bite your lip to stifle another giggle.

“Hung?”

“Yeah, like, your dick is huge.”

Red blooms across his cheeks, “It’s - it’s certainly above average—”

“You know what the average length is?”

“I-in North America, yes.”

“I didn’t know you swung that way, baby.”

He groans, moving to hide his face into the crook of your neck, “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, I know, I’m kidding.” You manage to shift and catch his head before he has a chance to press it to your neck. Your lips land on his, and he’s pushing his tongue inside your mouth sloppily. When you pull away for air, you add, “You’re just bigger than what I’m used to.”

“Is that bad?”

Is it? One hand wraps around the base of his cock, stroking up delicately, testing out the girth and the weight of him. He shudders, muscles tensing. His fingers dig into your hips. With a grin, you reply, “On the contrary, I think it’s exciting.”

You position yourself over him then, letting the blunt tip run up and down your slick folds. The friction makes you both shiver. Every single ridge and vein of his cock catches on your sensitive flesh, and you can’t help but start moving your hips up and down, rubbing your folds over the length of him. 

“You’re - ah - so wet.” his tone is wretched with desire and awe.

“All for you baby.” You continue your ministrations, letting his length part your folds, the tip hitting your clit at certain angles. His cock is covered in your slick within moments and your poor boyfriend looks like he’s about to combust. You feel the twitch of his cock, the shift in the way he moves his hips—rocking up desperately against you—and you know he’s close. So you stop.

You’re rewarded by another whine.

“Please,” his grip is hurting you now, palms clutching handfuls of your ass. You don’t think he’s even aware of how tightly he’s doing it. “Please, I’m so—”

“Spence, do you really want to cum without even being inside me?” That shuts up his whining. “Mhm, didn’t think so.”

“Can I— please, just—”

“What?”

“Wanna touch you.”

Your lips tug into a smile. At your nod of assent, one of his hands let go of your ass to move to your pussy, the pads of his fingers quickly locating your clit.

“Fuck, Spence,” your head falls forward, forehead meeting his, “Faster, baby.”

He obeys, tilting his head forward to capture your lips. Your mouth opens to him, muffling your moans as you begin to move, shamelessly riding his hand. His finger finds your entrance, dipping shallowly, hesitantly, but you’re so wet that, with a quick thrust of your hips, the digit slips all the way in. 

Spencer pulls away from the kiss to watch, the pupils of his eyes nearly eclipsing the ochre irises as your pussy swallows his finger greedily. Transfixed, he adds another finger and it’s your turn to squeeze and mark up his alabaster skin with crescent marks. 

“Yes,” you groan, gasp, writhe in his lap as his fingers curl and find the sweet spot inside you, “Oh god, Spencer, yes!”

He’s entranced as he pumps his fingers in and you, mouth hanging open as your pussy parts and accepts his fingers so prettily. To reciprocate, your hands—plural, yes both hands—wrap around his cock, starting a slow, lazy pace. That throws his rhythm off, fingers stilling inside you.

“Keep going,” you urge him, hands slowing to a stop as well, “Spencer.”

He whines, hips bucking up into your palms, but something in your voice seems to set him straight. Fingers thrust in and out of you again, long and elegant and stretching you for what’s about to come. Satisfied, you pump your hands over his cock again, twisting them every time you motion up, and squeezing as you go down. It doesn’t take long for him to fall apart, his cock twitching before cum shoots from the tip. Because you’re straddling his lap, it makes a mess and lands on both of you—his stomach, your chest, some even on your hair. 

“Oh god,” he’s whining again, embarrassed, “I’m sorry, I’m so—”

You silence him with a kiss, still stroking him, as your hips move over his hand. His brain manages to work, curling inside your fluttering walls. The movements are messy, uncoordinated as you chase your orgasm and he struggles to catch up. A whine leaves your lips, soft and needy. Something about it must trigger the neurons in his beautiful brain, make him remember you have the perfect bundle of nerves being neglected and he has more free fingers. 

With a slight shift, he presses his thumb to your clit. 

“Fuck, baby, yes!” you cry out breathlessly, head falling forward on his shoulder. 

“Good?” he asks, increasing pressure on that sensitive nub. Small, quick circles. You wonder when he became so dexterous.

You nod, thighs clenched and quivering as your climax nears, the pleasure in your stomach building and coiling into something white-hot and— “Oh, Spencer!”

His other arm wraps around your waist, crushing you to him as he helps you through your orgasm. In the steady comfort of his arms, the rocking of your hips slow to a stop. You feel his lips at your temple, not really kissing the spot, just resting there. Heavy breaths rifle strands of your hair. 

“Oh god,” he sighs, fingers slipping out of you with a pop, “Angel, that was amazing.”

You straighten up, grinning, “We're not done yet.”

“No?”

Eyes dart down suggestively, and his gaze follows to his own lap. Still completely erect, his cock lays flat against you, heavy and pulsating. “No, I think I need to take care of you a little more.”

“Y-you don't have—”

But you've already lifted yourself to your knees, fighting through the quake in your thighs, in order to position the tip of him at your slick entrance. His hands return to your thighs, nails clamping down on your skin.

“But I'm not— condom—”

How cute, he can barely speak. You grin, press a chaste kiss to the dimple on his cheek. “I'm clean. And on the pill.”

“You sure it’s okay?”

It's more than okay, actually. You're too shades shy of being desperate for his cock to split you open, but you're not sure if he'd survive hearing that sentence so you say, “Of course it is baby. Unless… you want me to stop?” If he catches the hint of insecurity in your voice, he doesn't show it. 

Instead, his head is shaking no, vigorously, lower lip jutting out in a pout. 

You smile, and kiss it away, “Okay then. I'll go slow, okay?”

You'd meant it as an empty warning. Really, there's nothing more you want than to impale yourself down on him and ride him like there's no tomorrow. However, as you slowly lower yourself onto his cock, as the blunt tip breaches your entrance and spreads your walls, you realize that going slow is probably more of a necessity. 

He's big. Almost uncomfortably so. 

One sharp exhale from your lips and he's suddenly looking at you in concern, “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” you gasp, although the furrow in your brows suggest otherwise. 

“You don't have to—"

“Hush, baby, I just need a moment.” You say, forcing yourself to relax and take more. The broadest part of his head pushes through, stretching you wider than you've ever been. Soft, keening sounds fill the air. It's hard to know which came from you, or from him.

You look up, and laugh when you realize Spencer's skin is dappled with large red splotches. He's staring at where the two of you are connected, his cock barely fitting inside you. With a deep breath, you roll your hips around, trying to get used to the feeling. He whines again, his torso falling back onto the cushion, “Oh my god,” he gasps, lower lips trembling, “Oh my god, please.”

“Need you to be patient for me, Spence.” you mutter, dropping down a little more. You place one hand on his thigh for balance, while the other wraps around the base of his cock, stroking him to give him some relief. The greedy bastard bucks up, involuntarily, and you hiss as another inch pushes into you before you're ready.

“Spence!”

“Sorry, I'm sorry! Just - oh god, oh god, please, oh did I hurt you?”

And then it happens. Something glimmers on his cheek as it catches the light. And then another. And again, this time on the other cheek. Your hand leaves his thigh to grasp his chin, tilt his head up.

Your boyfriend is crying. Splayed out on the couch, cushions embedded by the sharp joints of his elbows from where he's propped himself up. He's looking up at you with glimmering liquid gathered on the rims of his lashline. Dripping down his cheeks, only to be replaced by another bout. 

“Baby,” You sigh, pouting as you lean down. Soft lips catch his tears, leaving sticky residue on his cheekbones from the remains of your lip gloss, “It's okay.”

Another sob. Large teardrops crawl down his chiseled face.

Knowing that it’s your fault makes a feeling of power surge through you. “You’re so pretty like this, Spence.” 

“Angel, please—”

The sight of his tear streaked face does something to you, your walls relaxing and fluttering as you manage to accept another inch down. His reaction is instantaneous, nails sinking into your hips, head falling back. “No, no,” you say, hand coming to the back of his head, tilting his head forward again, “Look at me.”

Tear streaked and hazy eyed, he manages to keep his head steady in order to maintain eye contact. It’s a little sick, the way this turns you on, but it allows you to sheath his cock further in. 

You lift yourself up, until only the tip remains notched inside you, and his cock gleams with the evidence of your arousal. With a smile, you sink down again, walls fluttering as you take him deeper, until you have about three fourths of his length buried inside you and he’s little more than a puddle. 

A hiss escapes your lips, brows knitting from the stretch. It isn’t just that his length is impressive, it’s that he’s thick too, splitting your pussy open. But now he's buried more than halfway through, giving you enough room to lift yourself up, and sink down again.

You count that as a victory.

He groans, muscles tensing, and you know he's desperately trying not to buck up and meet your movements. With a small smile, you lean close, forehead resting on his. Large, honeyed eyes stare back up at you, still glassy with tears. You repeat the same motion of your hips, moaning as you feel every single ridge and vein of his cock straining inside your walls. 

“Feel good?” you murmur, swiping a stray teardrop with your thumb. 

“Mhmm,” he nods, breath hitching as your movements grow steady. The sting remains, but it's grown dull now that you’ve gotten more used to the size of him.

“Oh god, baby, why haven't we done this sooner?” you whine as you rock on top of him, enjoying the fullness of having him inside of you. The question is rhetorical, but he's in absolutely no state of mind to answer. His hands grip your hips tightly as he sniffles, unable to do anything else except enjoy the ride you're giving him.

Praises leave your lips, murmured in tones cloyingly sweet and half mocking. 

“Crying over sex, you're so lucky I'm so into you.”

“You look so pretty with tears in your eyes baby."

“Never had pussy this tight, haven't you?” 

That last one rips another sob from him, because you know this is his first, that you're making a mockery out of something significant for him. So you soothe with a kiss, and whispers of “I'm sorry, it's okay, you're doing so good, you feel so good.”

You punctuate it by moving faster, your pussy thoroughly comfortable and so wet that there's barely any struggle to bounce on his dick. However, you're still careful, still unable to take him all the way in. You figure it's something you both can work up to, something for the future. The thought makes you smile. 

Besides he doesn't seem to mind, moaning beneath you as you ride him. He seems to have lost all ability to articulate himself, instead just staring at you with red, tear filled eyes and a slack jaw. It makes you giggle, the way he looks so utterly fucked out. 

You clench around him, walls tightening sharply, sending sensations that make the two of you gasp. 

“I-I'm so close.” He manages to say, his hands now helping you, guiding your body as you impale yourself over his cock again and again, “Please, I'm so—”

“I know, baby, I know, you can come.”

His eyes squeeze shut, and his voice is especially strained when he asks, “Inside?”

You tug his hair teasingly, and his kids flutter open again. With a grin, you confirm, “Inside.”

A few more thrusts and he's gone, crying out, squirming desperately beneath you as spurts of his cum paint your walls. You don't stop, riding him continuously as you chase your own release. Thick, creamy liquid drips from your pussy and down the base of his cock with every movement. 

He sobs even more. 

“Touch me,” You whisper, pleading, “Spence, please baby, I'm so close.”

His fingers are at your clit in an instant, rubbing hasty circles as your pace grows erratic and sloppy. 

“Please,” He gasps, looking up at you with glassy, imploring eyes, “Please I wanna feel you come.”

Your body seems attuned to his desperate pleas, because as soon as those words leave his lips, your pussy clenches around him so tightly you both yelp in surprise. He doesn't stop his ministrations on your clit, helping you through your orgasm until you're panting. For the second time tonight, you collapse against him, face buried at the crook of his neck. 

“My god.”

He laughs, breathless, “My god indeed.” 

He shifts, moving slowly so he doesn't jostle your boneless frame too much. There's a hiss from you as he slowly pulls out. You find yourself clenching around nothing, feeling oddly empty after such an intense fullness. 

Silence wraps around both of you, heady and languid. His fingers in your hair, scratching your scalp. Soft intimacy after a whirlwind of lust.

And then he breaks it, so achingly sweet it almost makes you cry, “I'm sorry that I hurt you.”

“Mhm?”

“Earlier,” He clarifies, lips finding your shoulder and staying there. His voice becomes muffled and sheepish, “When I thrust up.”

“I didn't think you'd remember that.” You tease, fingers tangling into his hair and tugging at his curls.

“I've an eidetic memory, remember? I remember everything.” He laughs too. Relief makes his voice sound lighter. “I never want to hurt you.”

“You didn't,” You reassure him, “Well - okay, a little bit, but it's fine. I don't think you meant to.”

“Of course not,” He hums, lips traveling up your neck, “But I'll be more careful next time.”

“Next time huh?”

“Mhm,” Teeth on your jaw. Playful, teasing. “Next time.” 

It sounds like a promise. You know he intends to keep it. 

This was a request by @mggslover lol I forgot to add up top oh well

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - SIX

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mention of pregnancy; abortion; lack of self-care; drug and alcohol addiction;

Rafe had been clean for the past three years.

Over the course of the year, things between him and you had been smooth sailing. 

It was almost easy, something he wouldn’t have believed a few years back when everything he touched seemed to go up in flames. There’d been a time when he was just too much—angry, impulsive, doing all the wrong things for all the wrong reasons.

He’d been selfish, reckless, it was intense, way too intense, and when you fought, it was like you were both throwing grenades, just waiting to see who’d blow up first. You’d pushed him away, he’d pushed you harder, and you’d both crossed lines that should’ve never even been close.

Eventually, both of you learned to talk instead of shouting, learned when to back down instead of pushing buttons just to get a reaction. You’d gotten better at letting each other breathe. He’d pull back when he felt himself getting heated, and you’d do the same.

It wasn’t perfect; sometimes you’d still get into it, still end up in an argument that felt like old times, but it was different. There were no more lines on the bathroom counter, no disappearing at all hours. 

Until Ward died. 

Rafe didn’t know what the fuck to feel when he got the news. He knew what he was supposed to feel, right? He’d done it before with his mom, now it was his dad’s turn. The man who had raised him, the one to teach him everything he knew about how the world worked, even if it wasn’t pretty. 

Ward was a hard man, a strong man. The kind of guy who commanded respect, even if he didn’t always show it the way others might expect. But that’s the thing, he was a man of respect. 

To Rafe, that meant something. Everything. 

Ward had shaped him, he couldn’t just forget that, couldn’t act like that wasn’t important.

At first, you were there for him, no question. 

He knew you hated Ward, you barely tolerated the thought of him even existing in the same room as you. You spent those first few weeks with him, making sure he didn’t spiral back into the shit that nearly destroyed him. He needed the support, even if he didn’t always know how to ask for it.

You were there, holding it down. You got through it, the late-night talk, but then, you started getting distant.

At first, it was subtle—small things. He’d catch you looking at him like you didn’t quite get him anymore. You’d pull away when he needed you to listen, when he was ranting about Ward, and even though you tried to hide it, Rafe could see the dissociation.

He pretended he didn’t sense it, tried to tell himself you’d come around. 

After all, this was his grief, and no one else was going to understand it the way he did. His dad had been everything to him—maybe not in the way you thought he should’ve been, but that was just the reality of it.

For the first time in years, it felt like you weren’t there with him. It didn’t make sense to him how you couldn’t see it. 

Ward had been a tough guy, sure, cruel sometimes, but he was also a provider, a father who tried to teach him how to survive, even if it didn’t always come wrapped in the right way.

He wasn’t perfect, but he was the only father Rafe had ever known. He was gone all of a sudden and that was what had hurt the most—knowing he’d never get the approval he’d always been chasing, even when he was clean, even when he was doing better. There was no fixing that. 

He wanted to mourn in peace, but no one seemed to understand why Ward still mattered to him, not even Sarah.

Three weeks after the funeral he spent his days surrounded by a few bottles of scotch he’d stolen right out of his dad’s stash. Who was gonna stop him now, anyway? He almost laughed. Three years clean. Shit, that was something, wasn’t it?

He’d had people telling him he wouldn’t make it three weeks, let alone three years. Shit, his dad sure didn’t think he’d get this far. Only you.

Rafe squinted at the amber liquid swirling in his glass, then leaned back in the worn leather of his dad’s old armchair. It felt weird being in here, in his chair, in his office, breathing in that persistent smell of old cigars and varnish.

After the whole “funeral”, with everyone looking at him like he was a wild animal about to snap, this was the only place he could sit without someone judging him.

If you’re so clean, why are you drinking yourself half to death? He took a slow sip, letting it burn down his throat. 

It wasn’t like it used to be, that high that hit fast and hard, and didn’t care if it broke him apart.

This was different, a slower, quieter process.

Besides, he was in control this time. Just a drink, he told himself, fingers tightening around the glass. No powder, no pills. That was progress.

So what if he had to take the edge off? Who wouldn’t, if they’d just said goodbye to their only living parent and had to look at their younger sisters crying like that? 

He was practically swimming in alcohol. Rafe knew he was overdoing it, but he didn’t care.

Every time he saw himself— on a window, mirror, whatever—he had a drink in his hand, and something about it just felt terrifyingly right.

Grounded.

Nobody understood him; they just kept looking at him with that worried face, like he was on the verge of losing it like he used to when he was younger. Maybe he already had.

You watched him—really watched him—and yeah, he could tell you were pissed. He saw it in that little wrinkle between your eyebrows every time he took another sip. But you didn’t say anything. 

Even Wheezie was on his case in her quiet way.

She was hanging around, throwing out old jokes and trying to make him smile, but he barely reacted. She was looking at him like she was scared, as if he was some stranger she was trying not to set off. And he hated that—God, he fucking hated it. So he kept his distance, hoped she would back off, let him get through this his way.

But then came that night at the beach bonfire, when everything changed.

He probably shouldn’t have gone, but he needed to get out and feel normal again—even if that just implied showing up and pretending, he was fine. He dragged you along, flashing that cocky grin you could see right through, but you followed anyway, probably just to keep an eye on him. He could feel it—the way you were watching him, worried as hell, that just made him want another drink.

Half the people were staring, too. Waiting to see if he was gonna go off, if he was back to the same volatile Rafe he used to be, the one they loved watching spin out. And just when he thought he could ignore it, some random pogue, scruffy, half-drunk, threw out a comment loud enough for the whole group around him to hear.

“Guess Ward Cameron finally found some gold he couldn’t buy his way out of, huh? What was he thinking, running off to some country where people don’t just take bribes? Practically killed himself.”

It took everything in him not to lunge right there, but he was too plastered to keep the anger off his face. He pushed his way over to the guy, hands clenched into fists.

“You got something you want to say to my fuckin’ face?”

The guy shrugged, muttering something under his breath, people were looking now, everyone watching to see if he was finally going to give them a show.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was shoving him back, hard enough that the dude stumbled, beer splashing out of his cup. The crowd around them stirred, murmurs, but nobody did a thing—they were just staring, waiting to see the blood spill. He felt tempted to hurt someone, felt that cameron fury crawling up his throat.

It didn’t matter that he was twice as drunk as he should be; all that mattered was the way his father’s name was rolling off this nobody’s lips.

He felt you grab his arm, long nails digging hard enough to pull him back, he jerked his shoulder, trying to shake you off, but you weren’t letting go.

“You’re gonna waste your time on him?”

Rafe gritted his teeth, but you didn’t give him a chance to argue. You hauled him back, forcing him away from the guy, who was still standing there with that smug look plastered on his face. 

“Get out. Now,” you urged him, voice calm but with the tone that even he didn’t want to test. He glared at you, mouth opening to argue, but you didn’t let him get a word in. “Rafe. Now.”

You were mad at him.

It was enough to knock some sense into him, and he let you reel him away, but not before you turned back.

“And you,” you called out, enough to silence the chatter around you. “Keep your fuckin’ mouth shut.” 

There was no bluff, no hesitation, and Rafe watched as the pogue’s smug expression dropped instantly, eyes widening as he realized you were dead serious, your family’s name always had an impact around town, old money and all.

As you dragged him to the car, he muttered that he didn’t need you playing bodyguard, but you ignored it, taking him out of the spotlight he hated but couldn’t seem to avoid.

His head was spinning, his blood boiling, and he couldn’t even look at you, not with how angry he felt.

By the time you pulled up to his house, you got out, guiding him inside with that hard, that silent determination he both hated and admired in you. 

You were there, right behind him with that look on your face—angry, disappointed, like he was missing something big, as if he was the one who didn’t get it.

He stumbled into the bathroom, holding himself against the sink, and before he could even catch his breath, you turned on the faucet and splashed cold water in his face. He jerked back, sputtering, wiping it with the back of his hand. When he looked at you, his anger burned again.

“What the fuck is your problem?” he snapped.

“My problem?” you scoffed head already shaking, “Are you serious?”

“You don’t get it,” he growled, barely controlling the rage, the shame—everything. “You don’t know a fuckin’ thing about him. I had the right to defend him.”

You took a step forward, finger pointed at your chest, “Don’t I? Because I remember standing in this very house, watching him tear you down every chance he got. You’re so busy mourning this man who treated you like shit, that you’re pushing the people who care about you away. It’s not just me. It’s everyone.”

Rafe laughed bitterly, the sound humorless. “Oh, here we go,” he muttered, rolling his eyes as he turned back to the sink, gripping the edge hard enough to make his knuckles turn white.

“Don’t you dare roll your fucking eyes at me,” you retaliated, stepping up beside him. “I stood by you through all of it, I’m not gonna stand here and watch you kill yourself because of him. He’s the reason you felt like you had to be so perfect all the time, why you’re always trying to prove yourself to people who don’t deserve it. And now he’s gone, and you still can’t see it. You’re still trying to be good enough for him!”

He didn’t look at you, didn’t want to see the indignation—or worse, the pity—in your eyes.

“Just stop,” he muttered, but you were past listening.

“No, I won’t stop. I can’t. I can’t keep watching you do this to yourself again. You’re better than this.”

He suddenly pushed himself away from the sink, and turned to face you, his blue eyes practically black with a hurt that was older and deeper than either of you could touch.

“You don’t get to stand there and tell me what I deserve.”

“I know what you deserve.” 

He scoffed, rolling his eyes again, though his face had gone a shade paler. “You think you know everything, don’t you?” he sneered. “Think you know what’s best for me? Get off your high horse.”

“You’re damn fucking right I know better than you do, I’m not the one who’s drowning every night in some pathetic tribute to a man who wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire.”

He could feel it now, the bitterness you’d been hiding for weeks. It wasn’t just about him drinking himself stupid. It was everything—every fucking thing you’d been ignoring, it had festered between you two while you pretended things were okay.

“You’re the one who’s just tired of me, of everything that comes with me.”

You took a step back, eyes narrowing, but you didn’t flinch.

“What?” Your rage momentarily dialed down, the sound gurgling, “You think I’m tired of you? I’ve been here this whole time, trying to make you see the truth, but you won’t even look at me. You won’t let me in. You’re too fucking blind to notice.”

His breath was shaky, too fast, but he didn’t care. “So now I’m blind, huh? I didn’t see you sneaking out the door when I needed you? I didn’t notice how you pulled back, how you stopped giving a fuck about me? You’re just waiting for me to give you an excuse to leave.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he wasn’t done.

“You don’t get it! I didn’t need you to fix me, I needed someone to stay. But instead, you—" His voice cracked, the anger choking him up, "Instead, you started to make me feel like I was a b-burden. Some mess you had to clean up. How am I supposed to deal with that, huh?"

You were shaking your head, your eyes had already been filled with tears, your chest suffocating.

“I’ve been here. I’ve been standing right next to you, waiting for you to pull your shit together. I didn’t walk away. You did.

His stomach churned, as if you’d taken every inch of space in his chest and twisted it, just for fun. The worst part was, he couldn’t even argue with you. Not really. He had been so wrapped up in his own shit, so obsessed with keeping everyone out, that he hadn’t even seen how far you’d already gone.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare try to make this about me,” he spat, the words ugly in his mouth, it felt like they were scraping their way out of him. “You don’t get to make me the villain in your story just because you’re tired of playing my fucking hero.”

“I’m not trying to play the hero!” you screamed, stepping closer, your eyes were cold. “I’m trying to help you see that you have to fix this. Not me. Not anyone else. But you. And if you’re so fucking broken you can’t see that, then maybe you really don’t need me.”

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. Rafe could feel his heart racing, that agonizing coil in his chest, but he couldn’t stop.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said, voice quieter, but just as venomous.

He turned his back on you, walking to the door. The sound of his boots clamped against the wood floor like a countdown.

“Maybe I don’t. Grab your shit and go.”

"Don’t you fucking—" you snarled, but he was already moving, grabbing your jacket off the hook by the door and throwing it your way, “You know what? Fine. Maybe I will.” You shoved that stupid thing on, hands shaking as you yanked the zipper up. “Don’t come running back in two days like you always do. Don’t come crawling back.”

Rafe paused, hand on the doorknob, his jaw clenched so hard you could see the muscle ticking.

He didn’t turn around, didn’t look back at you.

“I don’t need you to feel sorry for me.”

“Good. Because I stopped feeling sorry for you a long time ago,” you replied sharply, every syllable punctuated with weeks of resentment. “What I feel now? That’s just disappointment.”

You watched his shoulders lock up; his whole body wound so tight it was like he was one wrong look away from completely losing it. He didn’t turn around either, even as you slipped out the door, but he knew.

That was it.

Two moths later, almost three, he was standing in front of the ER pacing like a complete fucking idiot after you passed out in his arms earlier.

He’d told himself he’d stay away, make it easy for both of you. 

That shitty plan had gone down the drain once he saw you speed away at that party with absolutely no regard for your safety or Topper’s. He’d seen that wild look in your eyes before—the one that said you were about to burn it all down. Or when your dad’s gala came around, and he couldn’t sleep properly knowing he wasn’t going to be there that year, knowing how you spiraled every time you had to step on that stage.

He had stupidly thought that maybe, one day, you two could still be friends. But today? That shit blew up in his face, for the second time in the span of a week.

He forgot what you could invoke in him when you were standing merely an inch away. He promised himself that he’d moved on, forced to consider that the love of his life might not be someone he could spend his lifetime with. Maybe you weren’t meant for each other.

But how the fuck was he supposed to act when the girl who had been everything to him was hurting? 

No, no, no.

Sofia was what he needed.

Someone who didn’t know shit about his past, who didn’t ask questions he didn’t want to answer. She hadn’t seen him the way you had, hadn’t been there through every drunken rant and punch he’d thrown at the wall or someone’s face, hadn’t heard him rail against his dad or drag himself back from one of his darkest nights. 

She hadn’t called him a fucking idiot when he chose to throw his father’s ashes on the ocean. She wasn’t going to call him a coward for it. She didn’t have a clue about any of it, and that was supposed to be what he wanted.

He looked up at the ER doors for the millionth time in the past hour, his fingers clenched around his jeep keys so tight they left marks on his hand.

It was over between you two. He’d make sure to keep the fucking distance, two whole months. If he didn’t give you enough closure, you’d hate him faster and you’d both get over it. 

So why the fuck was he about to set the whole hospital on fire as he watched John B’s beat up twinkie pull up to the parking area? It shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. 

Of course you’d call her, his own sister—his father's favorite.

Sarah had always been the golden child, Ward’s little angel who could do no wrong, while he was the family screw-up. Even now, you’d picked her, just like Ward would have. 

He didn’t think before he moved, closing the distance between him them in seconds. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He barked right up in her face, daring her to explain herself.

Sarah didn’t back down, though. She just looked up at him with that same cool, level expression she always had whenever he tried to get a rise out of her. 

“I’m here because she called me.”

“She called you?” He scoffed, eyebrows pulling together in disbelief. “You? She called you?” He took a step closer, “So what, you’re her savior now or some shit? Why the hell would she call you if I’m right here?” His eyes narrowed, searching her face like he couldn’t believe it. “Are you kidding me?”

Sarah threw her hands up, a look of pure exasperation on her face.

“Are you dense, Rafe? You’re with someone else! Why would she want the guy who broke her heart to drive her home?”

He blinked, thrown off. “I broke her heart? She broke mine!” He laughed, but it was harsh, bitter. “I did us a favor. We were just—”

“Oh, right. A favor?” Sarah cut in, voice dripping with sarcasm. “That why you’re pacing out here like a goddamn lunatic?”

“Go away. I’m driving her home.”

She stepped closer, her voice steely as she looked him dead in the eye.

“No. She called me, she wants me here. Not you. So do yourself a real favor and go home before you do something even more stupid.”

A breathless chuckle escaped his lips, “She already hates me, Sarah. What’s the fucking harm, huh?” He threw his arms out, as if daring her to come up with an answer that would hurt less. “What’s one more screw-up on top of everything else?”

“You’re real dumb if you believe that. But if you wanna make it worse, then by all means, go ahead. You’ll just prove her right.”

He stayed rooted in place, chest heaving, the conflict ripping him to pieces. His hands shook, his throat tight with words he couldn’t even begin to understand.

But Sarah had already turned her back on him, heading toward the entrance.

“Walk away,” she warned him, looking over her shoulder, “That’s the only thing left for you to do right now.”

Rafe didn’t know why the fuck he listened to her.

It was as if his body had already made that decision for him, understanding that if he didn’t leave right then, he’d end up doing something stupid—something even more fucked up than what he’d already done. His tongue was locked in place, a curse on the tip of his pursed lips, but it never came. 

His feet wouldn’t move, his hands stayed at his sides, and that tightness in his throat wouldn’t let him get a single word out, not one that would make any fucking sense. He hated that. Hated that you still had this kind of control over him.

Hated that he just…felt like something was wrong.

You hadn’t been this frantic, so impulsive since he had to take you home after your sister passed. He didn’t want to remember that night—you damn near threw yourself out of his truck.

But he couldn’t ignore the memory, the desperation on your face, the screams, the fight in his grip as he pulled you by your shirt back inside.

He’d felt like he was holding on to something breaking apart in his hands, something he couldn’t fix but couldn’t let go of either. He’d seen it again in your eyes when he’d caught you earlier at the beach clean-up, the way you’d tried to dodge his stare, voice cracking, legs wobbling when he mentioned the hospital. 

Rafe still felt like he’d swallowed shattered pieces of glass every time he thought about you. And if he could just push it down, if he could just get through one fucking day without looking back, maybe he’d start to forget you.

His feet were glued to the hospital pavement, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. If you were about to crash, if this was anything like before…He didn’t know what the fuck he was going to do.

He had no reason to stay, you’d made it clear as day. He was supposed to be gone—out of your life for good. You’d told him you didn’t need him, he told you he didn’t need you. So why the hell was he still standing here? 

Perhaps because he remembered the last time he’d let you walk out, the way he’d watched you disappear, thinking he was doing the right thing—giving you the clean end you’d both needed.

Maybe that made him sick to his stomach now, thinking of you in there with Sarah, telling his sister things you wouldn’t say to him, letting her be the person he once was to you.

But you’d called her, not him. You’d picked Sarah to be here, and that hurt like a bitch, but it was what he’d asked for, wasn’t it?

This was what he deserved. He told you to grab your shit and go, forced you to leave because that was supposed to make it easier.

He’d impulsively made his choice the minute he’d wrapped his arm around Sofia, pulling her close in front of everyone who’d once known he was yours. He’d talked himself into it. It was the right call, moving on was the only way to finally get you out of his system. 

He was the one who decided it’d be easier to act like he forgot you than to actually try. He thought he could make it easy—pain-free.

Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked back toward his Jeep. He gripped the door handle so hard he could break it in half if he wanted to, feeling his knuckles strain.

If he let go, if he closed that door and stormed inside, he’d just be right back where he started.

He stared at his reflection in the window, his hardened face staring back. His pulse was pounding in his temples, his gut twisting and turning as he tried to bury it all six feet under—the need to just go to you, to hold your hand or yell at you for making him care so fucking much.

He finally released the death grip he had on the door handle, forcing his fingers to relax, his knuckles still throbbing. He slid into the driver’s seat, the cold leather you’d help him choose, mocking at his skin as he slammed the door shut.

With a quick flick of his wrist, he threw the car into drive, the tires screeching as he peeled out of the parking lot.

He drove like he was being hunted down. He wanted to get as far away from that place as possible, praying the miles between him and you would stop the churning inside him. 

You’ll just prove her right.

He hated her for saying it, hated Sarah for knowing exactly what buttons to push. 

As he rounded a curve, his headlights swept across Topper’s house. Rafe cut the engine and stalked toward the backyard. Topper’s sprawled-out form on a reclining chair, arms crossed over his chest, sunglasses somehow still on evenly.

He stomped up and smacked the end of his chair.

"Wake the fuck up."

He jolted, nearly tumbling off the chair, ripping his sunglasses off and squinting up at him. “Jesus fucking christ, dude, ever heard of calling ahead?”

But Rafe didn’t answer. He just paced, hands in his growing hair, digging into his scalp like he could rip the frustration out of his skull. Topper sighed, propping himself up on one elbow, he didn’t even look at him, just kept muttering to himself, biting his lip, pacing.

“What the hell happened?”

Finally, he stopped, “I need you to find out what’s wrong with your cousin,” he muttered, not wanting to admit he cared enough to ask.

Topper blinked, brow furrowing. “What do you mean, what’s wrong with her?”

Rafe only shook his head, hands on his hips as he stared at the ground. “I don’t know, okay? She just…she’s acting off. And I can’t—I’m not supposed to care, Top. I’m not. I’m with Sofia now, alright? But she’s still…” His voice trailed off, as he scrubbed a hand down it.

Topper tilted his head, eyeing him knowingly.

“Right, yeah, whatever you say. I’ll figure it out.”

If Sarah Cameron didn’t walk through that hospital door within the next three minutes, you’d lose all the courage you’d summoned over the last hours. Or was it just an hour? You weren’t sure how long you’d been lying there, the IV needle taped uncomfortably into your arm. 

Your fingers curled into the thin blanket draped over you, and you wished—desperately—that you didn’t feel so…empty.

Ten minutes later, she strode in with a glance at the door, as if she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to get there on time. The relief on her face when she saw you was reassuring but it only made the confusion in your chest heavier.

She was so different from Rafe, yet still looked so much like him. She sat in the chair by the bed, eyes scanning your face like she was trying to gauge just how bad it was.

“Hi.”

You swallowed, blinking up at the ceiling to keep the tears at bay.

“Thanks for coming.” 

“Of course,” She reached for your hand where it lay on top of the blanket, hesitating for a split second before giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You okay?” 

You felt a laugh bubble up, “Not even a little.”

She let out a small breath and nodded, squeezing your hand again. “I figured,” she said quietly, and you appreciated that she didn’t pretend to have some miracle answer, “I made him leave.”

She’d made him leave.

You could imagine his face distorted with anger.

You wondered if he’d put up a fight or if he’d just walked away,  giving in to his sister in that infuriating, self-pitying silence he’d perfected.

You weren’t going to ask, the less you knew, the better.

“Good.” You were relieved, but it felt bittersweet, “I didn’t want him here.” 

Except your voice shook, like it simply had to let her know you were lying.

You’d been telling yourself for so long that you didn’t need him—that you didn’t want him anywhere near you. But the second you pictured him there, waiting… God, you hated yourself.

Hated that tiny, pathetic part of you that still wanted him to care, even if it was just a sliver of anything that wasn’t anger or flat-out ignoring you.

“He threw a hissy fight, but don’t worry. He’s not coming back.”

You nodded, half in agreement, half in frustration, “He never listens.”

“Especially when it matters,” Sarah added, rolling her eyes. “I swear, sometimes I think he just likes to make things worse for himself. And everyone else.”

You recalled the sound of his footsteps trailing yours earlier, the way his hand had hovered near you when you swayed, the wild look on his face when you told him to back off. He had seemed…hurt. Like he wanted to fix something he’d already smashed to pieces.

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

She respected that—she wouldn’t insist. There was a lot to unpack when it came to Rafe, but you didn’t need to go there right now. She could tell.

"Okay. Do you want to tell me why you called me and not Topper?”

There wasn’t any judgment in her tone—just plain curiosity, confusion. And you couldn’t blame her. If the roles were reversed, you’d be asking the same thing.

You had to bite your lips to avoid crying for the hundredth time that day. You hadn’t planned on telling someone the biggest secret of your life in a public space, or after nearly having a mental breakdown.

Not like this, with the IV in your arm.

"I—" you started, the words tangled in your throat. "I don't trust him," you admitted quietly, "I don’t trust him with this.”

This.

You turned your head to look out the window, the late afternoon light pouring through the blinds, but it never touched the void you felt inside. 

“He’s too close. He wouldn’t get it. I needed someone who could just… not be involved, you know? I mean—You’re still his sister but—”

Sarah’s already frowning, interrupting your pitying party, “Sweet girl, you don’t have to explain your reasons to me. I’m listening either way. I don’t know what’s going on, but I get it, I understand why you’d want to keep him out of this.”

“You’re the only one I can trust to keep this a secret,” you confessed, “If anyone finds out—if Rafe finds out—it’s over. I’m not ready for that.”

A shadow crossed Sarah’s face, her lips pressing into a thin line. She didn’t ask questions about what you meant—about how Rafe had ruined things before. She didn’t need to. 

“I won’t tell him,” Sarah promised, her grip tightening on your skin. “It’s safe with me. I’ve got your back.”

You closed your eyes, breathing out slowly.

This was hard, harder than anything you’d ever done before, and that was saying something considering all the shit you went through when your family died. She had no idea what you were about to say, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it would change everything between you—between you and her, and you and everyone else.

"Sara, I—" The truth choked you once more, cutting you off. You couldn’t breathe.

Your chest felt vacant, something was missing, something that you didn’t know how to fix, but you had to say it. It was the only way out.

“Are you—" she started to ask, but you quickly shook your head. You could hear the hesitation in her voice.

"Just… just let me tell you,” You begged, pushing the words out before you lost them. “I-I’m pregnant,” you finally blurted out, as if confessing it all at once could make it easier.

But it didn’t. 

You didn’t dare look at Sarah right away. 

Your eyes were stuck on the ceiling, blinking rapidly, you didn’t need her to see how much this was breaking you or how terrified you were. You could feel her eyes on you now, and your hand clenched around the blanket, your knuckles white from the lack of circulation. 

Then, slowly, Sarah squeezed your hand again, she was giving you a moment to breathe, even though you didn’t feel like you deserved it.

“Rafe’s?” she asked quietly, confirming what you already knew she understood.

You nodded, not needing to say it aloud; she could sense the truth in the way your chest hitched, how you couldn’t bring yourself to meet her eyes.

“God,” Sarah breathed out, "And you... you want to...?"

You nodded again. She wasn’t asking if you were sure; you could hear it in the hesitation of her question. She was asking if you were ready to make the choice.

“I don’t want this,” you choked out, the tears finally breaking free. “I can’t have it, Sarah. I can’t. I’m not ready for that. I’m not sure I even know what I want anymore," you spit the doubt out with the brokenness you felt, wiping the traitorous tear that traced down your cheek. "I don’t know what to do."

“I’m here. Whatever you need, however you need to do this—I’m here,” she promised, making sure you wouldn’t float away.

“I can’t… I just… I don’t want him to find out,” you managed between shallow breaths. “If he knew, he’d… I don’t know what he’d do. Maybe it’s stupid, but I don’t want him to look at me like… like he owns me something.”

Sarah nodded, not a hint of judgment on her face, “He won’t know a thing from me, I swear. He’ll never have any say in this, not unless you want him to. This is your choice, no one else’s.”

You didn’t know you’d been holding your breath, but it came out all at once in a shaky exhale.

“Thank you. I just… I didn’t know who else I could ask.”

“Hey,” she said, her voice gentle. “This? This is exactly what I’m here for. I’ve got you, no matter what.”

The empathy there, the way she held space for all your broken pieces.

“New Mexico’s clinic rules… they won’t let me go through with it alone. They said I need someone with me.” You took a shaky breath. “I can’t imagine anyone else but you there, Sarah.”

“Then I’ll be there,” she said, without hesitation. “I’ll get the tickets, we’ll go together. And if you feel like breaking down, then break down, because you don’t have to keep any of this in anymore.”

Her words broke something in you that had been holding everything so tightly. The relief, the gratitude— “You’re really… You’d really do this for me?”

“Of course,” she murmured, pulling you close so your head rested against her shoulder, her fingers brushing through your hair soothingly. “Sweet girl, I’d do this a thousand times over.”

“I mean—he’s your brother. I don’t want to mess things up between you two even more.”

She sighed, giving a small, sad smile, almost like she’d been waiting for you to say that. “You think he’s my priority right now? Don’t you worry about me and him, we always figure it out. Trust me, I’m used to it.”

“He might hate me for this. And if he takes that out on you…” You couldn’t finish.

“Listen to me,” she sighed, “I’m here because I care about you. Rafe and I, we’ll always have our issues—he’s stubborn, and he thinks he has all the answers. But that’s our problem. He’ll never have a say over what I do or who I’m there for. Especially not with this.”

You swallowed hard, “I don’t want you to regret it.”

She gave a wry laugh, brushing a piece of hair back from your face. “You don’t have to protect me from him, remember? He’s my brother, yeah, I love him despite all our shit, but I’m not here for him right now. I’m here for you.”

“You’re sure?” you asked, the question a whisper, almost childlike. You were afraid of the answer, terrified she’d eventually pull away.

“Of course I’m sure,” she replied, tilting your chin so you’d meet her eyes. “Whatever’s going on with Rafe will figure itself out—But right now, you need someone who’s all in, no strings, no doubts. That’s me. You focus on you. I’ll handle him.”

You looked down at your hands, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket, “I don’t think he loves me anymore,” you admitted, almost hoping she wouldn’t hear it, “I was so mean when your dad died.”

When you finally looked up, Sarah was watching you with a sad smile, one that made your heart hurt in both comfort and ache. “You really believe that?” she asked quietly, and you could hear the disbelief in her voice as if it was so obvious to her, something you couldn’t see.

You nodded, swallowing down the sting in your throat. “He doesn’t want me, not really. He’s…he pulled away. Like he’d rather hate me than be close to me. He’s with her.” 

The words tasted bitter, and made you want to hurt him twice as bad, but there was finally some relief in saying it out loud.

She sighed, looking down for a second, almost like she was thinking how to tell you something that hurt her to admit.

“I don’t think that’s the problem,” she murmured, with a knowing sadness. “I think the problem is that you two will never stop loving each other. He’s still hurting from dad’s passing, he’s angry because he doesn’t know how to stop loving you. And you—you’re here, angry that he loved my dad so much, hurt that he left, trying to protect me from him, still worrying about me when you should be focusing on yourself. You’re scared he doesn’t care anymore, and he’s scared you don’t need him at all."

Your lips quivered, your heart about to leap out of your throat, your tongue darted out, briefly brushing your lips.

You weren’t sure you should say it out loud, but maybe you had to. “We’re better off without each other, aren’t we?”

“You’re allowed to be someone without him, and you’re allowed to find out who that is.”

You were slipping, falling back into that spiral of guilt and shame, the one that told you maybe this was all you were good for. Maybe Rafe was right to break things off, perhaps he’d realized that, in the end, you weren’t worth fighting for.

And shit, you hated yourself for still caring. For still wanting him to want you, even though you knew it was poison. Even though you knew that being with him, needing him, was only dragging you both down.

“Thank you.”

And as you sat there, in the stillness of that room, with the sunlight dimming outside, you felt that maybe someday you’d be able to trust yourself too. To believe that you were worth more than the heartache you’d come to accept as your own.

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige

@rafebb @rafesbby @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron

@serrendiipty @sunny1616 @yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog

@psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

[anachronistic-falsehood]

writing ch 3 of animal impulses on GOD i hope it is worth it. i hope i'm doing a good job here. i don't know if i am but like hell i'd get a beta reader for this so once it's done i'll just throw it to the celltw girlies and hope for the best <3

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 19: Daddy Issues

Summary: Your pack is back home, but things aren't quite as good as you try to make them seem. Some truths get revealed, while others remain in the dark.

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 9,337 words

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, angst, PTSD, flashbacks, nightmares, '09 Ghost's backstory, mentioned abuse/child abuse, still pretty heavy emotionally, language, finally some of the comfort after the hurt, plenty of fluff

A/N: This stupid fic making me cry again. I may have lied about this one not being quite as heavy as the others...it's still pretty heavy, but there are some sweet moments in there too. There is a bit of a time jump in the middle, it's roughly a week long or so. Not much, but it does cut ahead a bit just for the sake of plot and moving things along. Also yeah, I got it done earlier than expected.

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You’re warm. Sweat has begun to form in the creases of your body. You’re wrapped around something solid, something contributing to the intense warmth. The smell of leather and eucalyptus fills your nose as you nuzzle your face against soft fabric. It sends a shiver down your spine despite the heat, your eyes fluttering open. You’re staring at a blurry mass of black fabric, your brain beginning to catch up as you become more and more aware. 

Leather. Eucalyptus. Something distinctly alpha. 

Fuck. 

You’re spooning Ghost. 

He has to be asleep, otherwise he would never let you get so close to him. He would have shoved you off, pushed you back towards Johnny, who you’ve traded places with in the middle of the night. You must have gotten too hot sandwiched between the two betas and tried to escape somewhere cooler. That led to you spooning with Ghost, not that he’s much cooler than the betas. 

You can get away before he wakes up, remove yourself from his personal space before he realizes and forces you away. Avoid the shame and embarrassment of his rejection, his anger at you for crossing that boundary, even just in your sleep. Despite the fact you know that boundary is there, despite the fact you did it unintentionally, you’re not sure you could handle such a rejection right now, even from him. 

You slowly begin to withdraw your arm from around his middle, sliding it back towards your body. If you go slow enough, you should be able to untangle yourself from around him without waking him and avoid a confrontation. 

A quiet gasp is pulled from your lips as his hand wraps around your wrist, keeping you from moving. 

“Don’t.” He says quietly. 

Your heart is thudding in your chest as he tugs your arm back around him, keeping you where you are. Your exhale is shaky as you slowly relax, pressing your face against his back again. You’re not sure what to do. You were expecting him to push you away, get up in disgust and leave because you got too close, you pushed past the barrier he had placed around himself when it came to you. A barrier that got let down only while you’re training, then it’s put right back up as soon as you’re finished. Now here you are, spooning him after sleeping in the same room, the same nest. 

You wouldn’t have taken him for being a little spoon type. 

Your eyes begin to droop again as you lay there, breathing in Ghost’s scent. It’s like a comforting blanket, lulling you into a sense of relaxation, of safety, something you haven’t felt in days. For the first time your mind is quiet, not panicking about what happened, or what could happen. You don’t have to worry about your pack now, because they’re here with you again. 

You drift off to sleep again for a while, sleeping soundly in the cocoon of safety your pack has provided for you. 

You wake a while later, sticky with sweat. Your back is pressed against Ghost’s, and there’s something draped across your face. You push it away, blinking your eyes open. Johnny has starfished across the nest on his back, his mouth open as he snores. He’s stolen your bear, one arm holding it against his chest, and the other arm had been what was draped across your face. Kyle is curled up on his other side, having moved from the middle to the far side of the nest. John is missing, making your brows furrow. 

You push yourself up to sit, the air in the room almost like a sauna. You rub your eyes, trying to blink away the sleepiness. That might have been the best sleep you’ve gotten since your heat. It was likely the exhaustion taking its toll, paired with your brain finally being able to relax while surrounded by your pack.

You feel like you could lay down and sleep for another ten hours. 

You’re warm, though, sweat causing your clothes to stick to your skin. The blankets have all been kicked to the end of the mattresses, likely ditched early on in the night. You wiggle out of your sweatpants, kicking them off the end of the mattress as well, leaving you in a baggy shirt that you think is Johnny’s. 

You feel suddenly exposed sitting there, your eyes flicking around the room as a chill runs down your spine. John would have noticed if something was out of place, but he could have just brushed it off as you in his room. He had given you permission to be in his space while he was gone, if you needed to. One of them would have noticed if things were out of place in their rooms. Ghost would likely notice, since you haven’t been in his room at all. 

You lay back down on your back, staring up at the vent on the ceiling. The cover is in place, and no matter how hard you look, you can’t see a camera hiding in the gaps. It doesn’t ease your worry any as you stare up at it, wishing you had your phone so you could at least try to look for one. Though, perhaps it was better you didn’t have your phone with you. You hadn’t been brave enough to pop it open and look for anything strange hidden inside, though you wouldn’t even know where to begin to look, or what to look for. 

You should tell them. What if someone is watching you right now? 

You flinch as John appears in the doorway suddenly, five water bottles tucked against his chest. Your skin is crawling from the thought of someone watching, someone listening in on such a private moment with you and your pack. You hadn’t even thought about it last night, the stress and your fear had taken over your mind. You push yourself back up to sit as John passes Ghost a water bottle, handing one to you as well. You unscrew the cap as John places the other bottles on his desk. Johnny and Kyle still asleep, unaware of the world. 

Unaware of the danger. 

A cold shiver slips down your spine as you gulp down the water. What if someone had entered the barracks last night? You weren’t in your room, and the door wasn’t locked. Anyone could have just walked in and put up cameras again easily. 

One of the guys would have heard someone snooping around, right? You were so out of it you likely would have slept through one of them getting up. What if they were also so exhausted from their deployment they could have slept through someone breaching their space as well. Did Ghost lock the door last night? You can’t remember. 

“Alright, sweetheart?” 

Your head snaps up to where John is leaning against his desk. His brows are slightly furrowed as he stares at you, and you realize you’ve been projecting your scent. With them gone, you didn't have to worry as much. You could stink up a room without a care. It just meant more protection for you. Now that they’re back, though, you have to be more careful. You can’t just go panicking over nothing, not that you should have to panic while they’re here. 

That’s their job, right? Protect the omega? 

They can’t protect you if they don’t know there’s a threat in the first place. 

“Yeah.” You say, gulping down more water to think up an excuse quickly. “Thought I might be dreaming for a moment, that you didn't really come back.” 

John approaches you slowly, kneeling down on the end of the mattress with a quiet sigh. He has to be sore after their deployment. You can tell just by the way he’s holding his shoulders, by the stiffness in the way he moves. You can’t even begin to imagine the kinds of things they did, the kinds of things they went through over the last week. 

John takes your hand, pressing it against his chest. He’s warm underneath the shirt, and you can feel the steady beating of his heart under your palm. “We’re real.” He says, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand as he holds it against his chest. “We’re really here.” 

You stare at his hand where it covers yours. You’ve seen it before, many times. Scarred and rough with calluses. His knuckles are dry and just slightly bruised. Did he punch someone? Or maybe he hit it against something else. 

His hand moves, snapping you out of your thoughts. You fight the urge to flinch as he cups your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin. “You’re thinking too much.” 

You swallow thickly. “Well, I didn’t have much to do this last week besides think.” 

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “We’ll try to make life more interesting for you, then.” He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Now, let’s get these two muppets up for breakfast.” 

He pushes himself back up to stand, staring down at Johnny and Kyle, still sleeping. You shift onto your hands and knees, crawling over to Johnny before swinging a leg over to straddle his stomach. You lean forward, planting your hands on either side of his face, his breath catching as he begins to wake up, sensing a disturbance. You stare down at him, watching his eyes flutter before they crack open. The haze of sleep leaves his blue eyes, clarity coming back to him quickly as his lips begin to lift in a grin as he stares up at you. 

“Didnae expect tae wake up to such a sight.” He says, voice thick with sleep as his hands come to rest on your bare thighs. “A beautiful woman on top of me? I must’ve died and gone tae heaven in my sleep.” 

“Even better,” You say, leaning down closer. “Because I’m real.” 

“That ye are.” He says, slowly dragging his hands up your legs, pushing the shirt up as he goes. 

Ghost pushes himself off the mattress, leaving the room so quickly he nearly knocks his shoulder against the doorframe. A frown pulls at your brows as you watch him go, slowly pushing yourself back up to sit on Johnny’s stomach. Guilt starts to well up in you as you stare at the empty doorway. You hadn’t meant to make him uncomfortable. 

“Don’t mind him, kitten.” Johnny says, pushing himself up to sit, sliding you backwards into his lap. “He’s still miffed he didn’t get a greetin’ yesterday.” 

“Oh,” You say, blinking in surprise. You hadn’t even thought about greeting Ghost in that moment. You had been so desperate for your alpha, and then swept up by the betas, it hadn’t even crossed your mind to acknowledge Ghost. “I didn’t-” 

“It’s not yer fault.” Johnny says, wrapping his arms around you. “He hasnae been the most...open with ye. It’s his own damn fault for it.” 

“Oh, well, I’ll be sure to give him a big hug when he comes back in.” You say. 

“Please do.” Kyle says, rubbing his eyes where he’s laying next to you. “I’ll pay to see his reaction.” 

All three of you burst out laughing, Johnny pressing his forehead against yours. “Missed ye, kitten.” 

“Not as much as I missed you.” You say, pouting. 

Johnny chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. His hands slide to your hips as he presses another soft kiss to your lips, and then another. 

“Let me get in on some of that.” Kyle says, pushing himself up to sit. He grips your chin in his hand, turning your face to his before pressing his lips to yours. 

His kiss takes your breath away, deeper and more passionate than Johnny’s had been. You hum against his lips as Johnny’s grip on your waist tightens. 

“Christ almighty.” Johnny breathes, staring at you and Kyle as you kiss. 

“Alright, you three.” John says as the air in the room starts to turn musky with arousal. “Let’s feed our omega first before we get too carried away.” 

Kyle pulls away from you, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. 

“Can we...eat in here again?” You ask, wrapping an arm around Johnny’s shoulders as you turn slightly to look up at John. You had almost forgotten about his presence, caught up in the attention from your betas. The thought of him watching the three of you has a different kind of thrill racing down your spine. 

“Of course.” John says, bending down to kiss you. 

Both Johnny and Kyle groan at the sight of their pack alpha kissing you, Johnny’s cock twitching in his boxers beneath you. You press a kiss to Johnny’s cheek after John pulls away from you before pushing yourself up to stand. You stretch your arms over your head, the shirt riding up a bit, giving both Kyle and Johnny a good view of your legs. The musky scent of arousal intensifies in the air as they stare at you, Johnny licking his lips hungrily. 

“Alright, get out of here you cheeky little minx, otherwise they’ll never get out of bed.” John says, gently guiding you from the room. 

You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips as you leave John’s room, stepping out into the hallway. It’s much cooler outside of the room, goosebumps forming on your legs. You have half a mind to go back to your own room, but you find yourself unable to even approach the door. Memories of the fear and your panic come flooding back, the thought that someone might have snuck inside, someone might be waiting for you in there snapping to the front of your mind. It’s a ridiculous thought. Someone would have noticed if there was an intruder, if there was someone who shouldn’t be inside creeping around. 

Your gaze flickers from your door as Ghost makes his way down the hallway, his clothes changed from what he’d been wearing to sleep in. You bite your lip as you stare at him, meeting his gaze. Perhaps it's the fear driving you forward, or maybe you’ve gone slightly crazy in their absence, but you find yourself approaching him, making him stop in his tracks. 

He eyes you as you approach, your steps quick as you try to avoid chickening out. Your mind is repeating Johnny’s words over and over in your head, an explanation for Ghost’s behavior yesterday, and obvious annoyance at you and Johnny this morning. You wonder if he’ll take it as a threat as you get closer to him, if he might snap and defend himself. He’s completely still, not even his chest moving. He’s watching you like a predator watches its prey, waiting for your next move. 

It’s like hugging a tree as you wrap your arms around his waist. He’s stiffer than a board as you hug him, resting your face on his chest. Leather and eucalyptus and musk all float around you as you press close to him, his scent enveloping you in a hug, even if his body doesn’t follow suit. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. 

“Hugging you.” You say, tightening your hold around him. You’ve been this close to him before in your training, but this feels different. “I’m sorry for not greeting you on the tarmac. I wasn’t really thinking clearly at that point.” 

He lets out a quiet sigh, something you probably wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t so close to him. You can imagine it’s a sigh of exasperation at Johnny for spilling about his feelings. “It’s fine.” He says, awkwardly patting your back. “Don’t know why you would have wanted to.” 

“Well, you are part of the pack.” You say. “That should be enough reason.” 

You nuzzle your face against his chest, his scent going straight to the back of your brain. Your omega wants to roll in it, cover herself in it until it’s all you can smell. The intensity of his scent has something in your hindbrain purring, the sound rumbling through your chest. 

Ghost puts his hands on your shoulders, pushing you back from him. You blink up at him blearily as your mind begins to clear a bit with the distance. “At least put some pants on before you completely lose it.” He grumbles. 

A small smile tugs at your lips before it falls at the thought of having to go into your room. You turn to face the door, your vision almost tunneling as you stare at it. You don’t want to open it. You don’t want to go in there. 

“Ghost?” You say quietly before he can walk away. 

He turns to look at you, his eyes squinting just slightly as he frowns. “What?” 

“Will you...will you open my door for me?” You shift your weight, knowing he’s going to want a reason, an explanation for your behavior. 

He turns fully to face you, shoulders squared as he slowly approaches, suddenly on the defensive. “What is it?” 

You shake your head. “Just a feeling.” 

He steps between you and the door, wrapping his fingers around the handle before he swings it open, scanning the inside. His shoulders relax just slightly and you let out a breath of air. There’s no one inside. No one’s waiting for you. No one broke in last night. 

He takes a step back before turning to you. “Nothing.” 

You let out a sigh of relief, staring into the space that was once your nest, your safe place. You can feel Ghost’s eyes on you, waiting for an explanation for your behavior. You can’t tell him the truth, despite how easy it would be. You could confess right now, admit to what happened, what you did, the mistake you made. You could drop to your knees right now, beg for forgiveness for what you did. 

“It was hard...while everyone was gone.” You say. It’s not a lie. Not entirely. “Made me uneasy, being alone here. Kept thinking I was hearing things.” 

He doesn’t believe you. You can see it in his eyes. He knows your lying, he knows you’re withholding the truth from him. You aren’t, you just aren’t giving him the whole truth. You had felt lonely, you had been on edge even before General Shepherd arrived and your room was bugged. Being alone was hard. Harder than you thought it would be. It would have taken its toll on you, even without the stress of your space being invaded multiple times. 

You should have told someone. You should have called Dr. Keller right away. You should have never opened the door in the first place. 

“Thank you.” You say, slipping past him and entering your room. 

He stands there for a few breaths, watching you warily as you open your closet, looking for something to wear. You ignore him, acting like he’s not there, but you can’t hide the squaring of your shoulders, the stiffness of your movements. You’re not sure you could resist if he pressed, if he tried to force you to tell him. You’d spill immediately, even without him using his alpha against you. 

The thought has another chill racing down your spine. 

Your omega is on edge as you change with the door open, not caring as the guys move around, getting dressed to head out to grab breakfast for everyone. You hate how inconvenient it must be, but you still don’t think you could handle being in the mess. Not yet. Not so soon. You’ll have to eventually, otherwise they’ll think something is up, happened, and then they’ll start questioning. 

You couldn’t handle an interrogation. Especially not their disappointed and angry faces when you confess to what you did, the mistakes you made, how you allowed someone to walk in so easily. How you left so easily with a stranger. They’d never trust you again. 

They won’t trust you if you keep things from them either. 

They have to know. They have to know General Shepherd came to base and talked to you. They have to know about you meeting their superior while they were away. A high ranking General couldn’t just be on base without someone knowing, and why would he hide it? He had come to check in on your progress and how you were settling in with your pack. He would have included your pack in that questioning as well, right? Besides, there has to be cameras everywhere on base. Someone would have seen you and let them know. 

There’s no way they don’t know about it. 

You stand in the doorway of your bathroom, staring at the cabinet where the broken cameras and recording devices are hidden. They’re broken, you ensured that. They’re hidden away, buried under enough stuff no one could find them unless they were purposefully looking for something. 

You let out a breath, trying to relax as you finish your morning routine. It’s over. There’s nothing that can be done now. All you can do is try to move on, try to mend the fraying bonds with your pack, heal the sense of fear and unease surrounding your safe space. 

Maybe Dr. Keller could help. You could admit everything to her, everything that happened while she was supposed to be watching you. If you had just gone to her office that afternoon, perhaps things would have been different. She would have known, but that wouldn’t have stopped the cameras from being put up. It would have just made it easier for them. Maybe they might have finished the job properly, and you wouldn’t have even known. Even if you had called Dr. Keller, what kind of argument could she have made against a Commanding Officer? 

If you told Dr. Keller now, she’d tell your pack. She’s promised to keep everything between you confidential, but would something like this be an exception? Would she tell your pack anyway because she thinks it’s the best course of action to help you? 

You want to cry. Tears are welling in your eyes as you stare in the mirror. You hardly recognize yourself. You look tired, strung out, sickly almost. Are you not, though? Is that not how you feel? You know omegas can get sick from stress sometimes, if it gets to be too much. You don’t want to get sick. You don’t want to be more of a burden than you’re already being. They have to be so tired after their assignment, and here you are making things harder for them. 

“You alright, love?” 

You jump, letting out a shriek as you whip around to face the door of your room. Your heart is racing as you slap a hand over your mouth, staring wide-eyed at an equally surprised Kyle. You let out a breath, slowly lowering your trembling hand as you try to calm yourself. It’s just Kyle sneaking up on you. Not a stranger. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” He says, brows pinching in a frown. 

“‘S okay.” You murmur, turning off the light before leaving the bathroom. “Was lost in thought.” 

“The others left to grab food.” Kyle says. “They’ll be back shortly.” 

You nod, trying hard not to make your trembling too visible, or give any hint at your discomfort. “Okay.” 

You stare at him as he leans against the doorframe. He hasn’t entered your room. He’s still standing in the doorway. The thought has a lump forming in your throat. Your bonds have frayed so much he doesn’t even feel comfortable entering your space anymore. There’s a wall up again, and you’re only forcing it higher and higher. 

“Come on.” He says, holding his hand out to you. “Let’s go to the rec room.” 

You take his offered hand, letting him pull you from your room. The door clicks closed behind you as you let him lead you down the hallway and away from the place that’s become fuel for your nightmares. 

Kyle sits down on the couch, pulling you down on his lap. You wrap your arm around his neck as he wraps his arms around you, enveloping you in his warmth and scent. 

“I’m sorry for startling you.” He says softly, bringing your other hand to his lips so he can press a kiss to your wrist. 

“It’s not your fault.” You say, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Been on edge since everyone left.” 

“I bet.” Kyle leans his cheek against the top of your head. “We’re here now. We’re gonna fix that.” 

“What happens when you have to leave again?” You ask. 

“You won’t be alone again, that’s for sure.” A different voice says. 

You nearly jump out of Kyle’s lap as John appears in the doorway of the rec room, Johnny and Ghost right behind him. Kyle’s arms are the only thing keeping you steady as your heart nearly beats out of your chest. You’re not sure how much more you can take, intentionally or unintentionally. 

“I spoke with Kate this morning.” John says as he sets the food he’s carrying on the coffee table. “We’re going to do everything in our power to avoid having you left alone again. At least one of us will be staying behind with you from now on.” 

Your brows pinch a little. Is that why he had been absent from the nest earlier? You’re not quite sure what to feel. On one hand you’re relieved at the thought of not having to be alone again, but on the other hand, you don’t want to disrupt their lives, their jobs. You wonder just how hard he had to fight to even get Kate to agree to something like this. 

You also feel a bit afraid that they know, they figured out what had happened and that’s the reason they don’t trust to leave you alone again. You’ll make another stupid mistake or another risky decision that might cause you actual harm next time. 

Kyle eases you off his lap and onto the couch beside him. Johnny sits on your other side, squishing you between them as a tray is passed into your hands. You don’t feel very hungry as you stare down at the food, but you know after a meager dinner last night, you need to eat. You won’t be doing you or your pack any favors by being hungry. 

It’s quiet in the rec room as you eat. It’s almost eerie how silent it is, aside from the occasional scrape of silverware on the trays. You begin to float back into the time when they were gone, the haunting silence that had settled over the barracks in their absence. Everything had seemed so still, not peaceful, but more like the very walls were holding their breath. 

Perhaps it was in anticipation for what was to come. Perhaps somehow the very walls knew they would be beached, the safety they once promised would be upended. 

Or maybe you’ve just gone crazy. 

You shift forward on the couch, careful not to tip your tray over as you grab the remote from the coffee table, turning the TV on. 

“Finally! I couldnae handle the silence much longer.” Johnny exclaims, letting out a relieved sigh. 

The corners of your lips pull up in a smile as you pass the remote off to him, letting him search for something bearable to watch on early morning TV. You’re glad at least you weren’t alone in your distaste for the silence. You curl up closer to Gaz, reminding yourself that it’s not a dream, that they really are here. They really did come back. 

Now you just have to move on and put the nightmare of what happened behind you. 

As the days pass, things begin to return to normal. The guys start their normal routine of training and running drills almost immediately. To avoid being stuck in the barracks alone, you ask to go with them, blaming it on the distance and your need to be clingy still. At first you were afraid someone would take advantage of the barracks being empty again, but every search has come up empty handed. No more cameras, no more recording devices. 

Whoever it was who planted them must have given up, or perhaps the risk of doing it with the entire pack back on base was too high. 

Despite this fact, you spend the least amount of time in your room as possible. Even when you can’t go to watch them train or run drills, you spend your time in John’s room, or in the rec room. At night you rotate between John, Kyle, and Johnny, opting to sleep with them over spending a night alone in your room. 

As you discussed, you begin seeing Dr. Keller twice a week. You’re not quite sure what she told John to convince him it was necessary, but whatever it was, it hadn’t given away any of your secrets. It probably hadn’t taken much to convince him to say yes, given your current state and his worry about you. 

You know he’s worried. You can see it when he looks at you, like you might snap if he stares too hard. You’ve seen the way his hands twitch when Johnny holds you too tightly or gets too rough in his affection, like he’s worried you might shatter.

It’s reassuring to see the distance has not just affected you. Johnny holds you tighter than he used to, Kyle stands closer to you like he’s trying to fuse you both into one. Even Ghost has started hovering closer, using his hands to steer you and guide you when you’re around others that aren’t part of your pack. 

You’ve started eating in the mess again, knowing you can only avoid it for so long before they’ll start getting suspicious and asking questions. You still feel paranoid, being around the other soldiers on base. You can’t help but be suspicious that it was one of them that planted the cameras, that it was one of them that tried to get into your room that night. Who would willingly breach such sacred ground and invade an omega’s space like that, you couldn’t even begin to guess.  

Sure, some of them still stare at you, but most of them now ignore your existence. You’re no longer a spectacle, not after a few weeks on base, not that you’re a claimed omega now. 

That won’t stop some alphas. 

Going up against your pack, though? That would take one hell of a cocksure alpha. 

Just like the one that invaded your safe space. 

It had to have been an alpha. Sure, that beta soldier had entered the barracks, but to go so far as to put up cameras and try to come back and get into your room? That takes a special kind of audacity, something only an alpha could possess. 

So life has gone back to normal, or at least as normal as it can be after what happened. 

The return to normal hasn’t all been good, though. Your nightmares have returned, coming on quickly as soon as you began to settle into routine again. The real nightmare has passed, so now your mind has to plague itself with nightmares that have already happened. Things that can’t even hurt you anymore. 

You start avoiding sleep again, despite your work with Dr. Keller, too afraid to risk having a nightmare in front of one of them again. The last thing you need is to have to spill about your nightmare. You might not be able to stop and wind up spilling about what happened while they were gone too. 

Unfortunately, things don’t work that way. They never work that way for you. 

Someone is screaming. Your body feels like it’s being constricted by a snake, crushing and painful as you’re clutched desperately against your mother’s chest. She’s the one that’s screaming, the sound hurting your ears. Your face is pressed against her shoulder, into the softness of her sweater. It’s the pink one, the one she made. Her favorite. 

There’s knocking coming from somewhere, a door handle jiggling. It’s locked, but you can hear someone trying to get in, multiple people based on the voices from the other side. You don’t know who it is. You don’t recognize any of them. You can’t even make out what it is their saying, if they’re saying anything at all. The voices sound more like the unintelligible roar of monsters, the ones you used to be afraid of as a child. 

Everything is muted by the blood pulsing in your ears, drowning out everything but the jiggling of the door handle. Someone’s trying to break in. Someone is breaking in. You can make out the thuds against the door, the desperate attempts to get inside, to get to you. 

The arms around you tighten, pressing your face harder into the soft yarn of the sweater. You inhale the familiar scent of brown sugar and vanilla, the scent surrounding you and enveloping you in a sense of safety. Nothing can get you. Nothing can hurt you. 

That’s not true, though. You know it’s not. 

There’s a bang as the door is finally forced open, the screaming getting louder as footsteps enter the room. You’re shaking, trembling in your mother’s arms as she clings to you desperately, just like you used to cling to her when you thought there was a monster under your bed. 

The monsters were real, you realize as you desperately cling to your mother, just as tightly as she’s clinging to you. 

Hands grab at you, claws digging into your skin, tentacles wrapping around your body, trying to pull you from your mother’s grip. You can hear her pleading, begging, screaming at them not to take you, not to separate you. You’ll never see her again if they manage to pull you from her. They’ll take you away, hide you away, keep you from the warm comfort of her embrace. 

You let out a scream of your own as you’re yanked from her grasp, your arms reaching for her as the monsters pull you from the source of your safety and comfort. The last thing you see is your mother’s grief stricken face before the door slams in your face. 

A scream tears from your lips as you’re pulled from sleep suddenly. You’re falling, hitting the tile floor with a thud. Your shoulder cracks against the unforgiving floor, making you yelp. The blanket has tangled around your legs, rendering you immobile from the waist down. 

The frantic pounding of boots on the floor meets your ears, seconds before the four members of your pack are sprinting into the rec room. Their faces look just as frantic as their steps had been, concern laced with fear laced with worry. You hadn’t even realized they’d returned already. They had been at their afternoon drills while you stayed in the rec room watching TV, slowly succumbing to the exhaustion that’s been plaguing you. 

“What is it? What happened?” Kyle asks, moving to step forward but John beats him to it. 

“Fell off the couch.” You say, pushing yourself up to sit, wincing at the pain in your shoulder. There’s tears sliding down your cheeks despite you fighting the remnants of your terror and pain from the nightmare. 

“I think there’s more to it than that.” John says, kneeling down in front of you. 

You want to confess everything. How you haven’t been sleeping well for weeks now since your heat, how you keep having horrible nightmares about your past, what happened while they were away, how the nightmares have returned. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at John, the tears sliding down your cheeks as you give up trying to control them. Guilt plagues you as you stare at the worried face of your alpha. He just wants to help you, he just wants to take care of you, but he can’t if you’re keeping things from him, if you’re lying to his face. 

“I had a nightmare.” You say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You clutch your arm to your chest, trying not to move your shoulder too much. 

John lets out a quiet sigh, his fingers lifting to press against your shoulder, feeling around the joint. You wince as he hits a tender spot, the pain sharp, but not horrible. You’ve certainly felt worse things. 

He turns to the others behind him, all of them staring at you with equally worried looks on their faces. “Get me an ice pack.” He says before turning back to you. 

He lifts you off the floor, placing you back on the couch before untangling the blanket from around your legs. Johnny grabs an ice pack as Kyle moves to sit next to you on the couch, draping his arm across the back, projecting his scent to try and help you relax. John sits on the edge of the coffee table, staring at you. Despite the worry still present on his face, his eyes are sharp. You can’t help but feel like you’re suddenly in an interrogation. They’ve done this before, probably many times, though likely not as gently as they are now. You’re terrified still at the way they shift so easily into the mindset of a soldier. You can’t even imagine what it would be like if they were serious in their interrogation of you. 

“How long have you been having nightmares?” John asks as Johnny takes a seat on the other side of you, passing you the ice pack. 

You press it against your shoulder, trying to keep your thoughts straight. You have to try not to spill anything, try not to confess to all of your sins, all of your stupid mistakes now. Your gaze drops to your lap, avoiding the looks of the two alphas staring at you. Ghost has moved to stand behind John, his arms crossed as he watches the exchange. You can feel the pressure of their gaze, the sharpness of it digging into your skin like knives. 

“A couple weeks.” You admit, unable to even think of a lie. You don’t want to lie now, not with them staring at you so intensely. They’d know. They’d be able to tell before the words even left your mouth. “Since my heat ended.” 

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding sleeping?” John asks. 

You wince at his question. Of course he noticed. Why wouldn’t he? He’s been trained to notice weaknesses in others, gauge the capabilities of his men. Of course he’d notice you’re more tired than usual, not sleeping quite as much. He probably even knew all the times you woke up in the night when you slept next to him.  

You nod, still staring at your lap, too afraid to see the disappointment in his eyes. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He breathes, almost sounding upset. 

You’ve made a mistake in keeping this a secret. You regret it as soon as you hear the emotion in his voice. He thinks you don’t trust them, he thinks you don’t trust your alpha. You need to tell him. You need to tell him everything, but the fear keeps you paralyzed. How much more upset will he be when you confess that you kept such a major event from him, from all of them? 

A quiet sob leaves your lips as you sit there, terrified of the reprimanding you’re sure to get. The shame burns hot in you, the reminder that you’ve disappointed them. You’ve let them down and now they won’t even trust you to tell them anything. 

“We’re not mad at you, sweetheart.” Gaz says, shifting his arm so it’s wrapped around your shoulders, his thumb brushing the hand that’s holding the ice pack to your shoulder. Johnny shifts just slightly closer to you, both of the betas projecting their scent around you, trying to cocoon you in their comforting presence. 

“I just want to know why you felt it necessary to hide something like that from us.” John says, his voice softer than it had been before. 

“I didn’t want to bother you.” You find the words spilling out before you can stop them. Maybe it’s the exhaustion or the fear or your brain finally getting tired of holding everything in. This is your moment to let out a little steam, to finally release some of the pressure that’s been building. “My nightmares are nothing compared to the ones you all probably have and it’s stupid and I shouldn’t even be having them, it’s been years since the last time I dreamed like this, and I don’t even know why they’ve come back now.” 

“No nightmares are stupid.” Ghost says, stepping up closer to the coffee table. 

“We’re here to help you.” John says, leaning his elbows on his knees. “We can’t do that if you don’t tell us what’s going on.” 

Guilt burns through you at his words. He’s right. You should be honest with them, tell them everything. They can’t help you, they can’t keep you safe even from the things that plague your mind if they don’t know about them. 

“What are the dreams about?” John asks, blue eyes boring holes into you. 

You feel small under his gaze, like you're a child again, facing down your father after doing something wrong, after making a mistake. You have made a mistake, though. You’re facing the consequences of your mistake right now. 

“The day I left for the institute.” You say quietly, voice hardly more than a whisper but you know they heard you in the silence of the barracks. It feels threatening, like the walls are silently vowing to tell the truth if you don’t. 

Your pack shifts a bit at your words, sharing looks amongst themselves. They have to know what it’s like, or at least heard stories about the trauma of being pulled from your pack to be taken to a strange place, surrounded by others just like you. 

“What happened that day?” Ghost asks, staring down at you. 

You can feel his gaze piercing into you, screaming the silent threat that you’re going to tell them, no matter how long they have to sit here and wait. You don’t have a choice anymore. You have to tell them. 

You’re warm. The ice pack pressed against your forehead does little to soothe the burning under your skin. You’re thirsty, the two empty plastic bottles on your nightstand were not enough to ease the dryness in your mouth. 

Hands shift the ice pack, pressing it against your cheek. Your mother is there, seated next to your bed diligently. She’s crying, tears sliding down her cheeks, quiet sniffles breaking the silence in the house. 

“I’m sorry.” She whispers, bringing your hand to her lips. “I’m so sorry,” She apologizes, as if it’s her fault, as if she brought this onto you. 

She gasps quietly as the door opens, her back stiffening as your father enters. His face is stern, mouth almost twisted with disgust as he stares at you. It feels wrong, having him invade your space. If you’d had the energy, perhaps you would have been brave enough to protest his presence. 

“Come on.” His voice is gruff, worn down from years of smoking and yelling. “Get up.” 

“No, please-” Your mother attempts to reason with him, but he won’t have it. 

“Shut up and sit down.” He snaps at her, and she has no choice but to sit back and be silent. His voice has something tingling in the back of your neck, almost like a warning. There’s nothing you can do, though. You’re far too weak. 

He moves to the side of your bed, grabbing your arm and pulling you up from the comfort of your blankets. The ice pack falls from your head, your skin prickling with warmth almost like it hadn’t been there in the first place. Your brain is sluggish as you try to comprehend what’s happening, your legs giving out as you’re forced upright. You can’t get your body to work, you can’t even force yourself to behave. You want to crawl back under your blankets and lay there for the rest of eternity. 

You whine as you’re dragged from your room, knees knocking on the floor as you attempt to get your feet under you to ease the pain in your shoulder. Your father drags you into the living room, two people you don’t recognize standing next to the front door. 

“Please, please don’t do this!” Your mother pleads with him, right on his heels as he drops you in a heap in front of them. He catches her before she can rush forward to you. How you wish you could have her arms around you again, holding you and comforting you in your confusion. 

“Enough.” Your father snaps at her, looking down at you with disgust. “She’s no daughter of mine.” 

You blink up at him, the words seering through the haze, registering in your foggy mind. Tears gather in your eyes as you stare up at your parents, your siblings watching tensely from the living room as the scene unfolds before them. 

“No, no!” You cry as hands close around your arms, lifting you from the floor. “Mama!” You scream, trying to fight them as you’re pulled from your home, your safe space, your family, your pack. 

Your mother is yelling, fighting against your father’s hold around her, but it’s useless. He’s stronger. He wants this, so no one is going to stop him. She’ll pay later for her actions, her disagreement with him. You won’t be here to see it, though. You’re leaving and you won’t be coming back. 

The last thing you see as the cool air outside washes over your feverish skin is your mother’s grief stricken face before the door closes, locking you out forever. 

You’re dragged into the back of a van parked in the driveway. Two men in uniform climb in behind you before the doors are slammed shut. You curl up in the corner, sobbing uncontrollably. You want your mom, you want to be back in the safety of her arms, the warmth and comforting softness that only she can provide. 

One of the men approaches you, a needle in his hand. You whimper in fear, pressing further back into the corner as he gets closer to you. He forces you down onto your stomach, the pain brief as he injects you with the sedative before he moves back to take his seat. You curl up in a ball, quietly sobbing as the drugs begin to work, your vision going hazy before you’re forced into unconsciousness. 

“I woke up hours later at the institute.” You say, wiping at the tears streaming down your cheeks, but it does little against the cascade of tears falling from your eyes. “Never saw or spoke to my family again. They didn’t even try to reach me, and I know my dad was the reason why. He hated me as soon as I presented.” 

“Fucking hell.” Ghost breathes, hands curled into fists at his sides. You can smell the intensity of his scent above everything, the burning ozone of anger rolling off of him. It makes you wince, even though you know it’s not directed at you. 

“That’s why he wanted to send you so quickly.” Kyle says, his arm tightening around you. 

“How did he get you into FIOT so soon after your presentation?” John asks. 

You shrug your good shoulder. “I don’t know. I didn’t even know he’d be sending me, much less so soon until it was happening.” 

“Christ,” Johnny breathes, gently taking your hand in his. “No wonder yer havin’ nightmares, kitten.” 

“I haven’t had this nightmare since I arrived at the institute. They started there, lasted a few weeks while I adjusted to being there.” You sniffle. “Haven’t had them since, until now. Dr. Keller says it’s because I finally feel safe enough to process the trauma of it happening.” 

John sits up a little straighter. “Is that why she suggested seeing you multiple times a week?” 

You nod. “We’re working on it. I asked her not to tell you, because I did plan on telling you eventually.” 

“I’m glad you told someone, at least,” He says. “And I’m glad you finally told us too. We might not be able to stop the nightmares, but at least now we can help support you in whatever way you need.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” You say, squeezing Johnny’s hand slightly. He was the only one that knew you were having nightmares, but you hadn’t even confessed to him what was going on out of fear he’d tell the others. 

“It’s alright, sweet girl.” John says, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’m glad it finally came out and now we can help you.” He wipes the tears from your cheeks, his thumb brushing your skin gently. 

The moment is broken as your stomach growls impatiently. It’s past your normal dinner time, your confession having kept you longer than you thought it would. You hadn’t gotten in your afternoon snack either, your body having chosen to nap instead. 

A small smile tugs at John’s lips. “Hungry, love?” 

You nod. “Yeah. Didn’t get my snack.” 

“We’ll go get some food and bring it here, how does that sound?” He asks. 

You nod. “Yeah. That sounds good.” 

He pushes himself up to stand, his knees cracking as he does. You fight the urge to say something, squeezing Johnny’s hand tightly. 

“I’ll stay.” Ghost says, still looking at you. 

John looks down at you and you meet Ghost’s gaze for a moment before nodding. John presses another kiss to your head, Johnny and Kyle pressing kisses to your cheeks before they get up, leaving the rec room to get dinner for everyone. 

Ghost moves from his spot on the other side of the coffee table, sinking down at the end of the couch. You fight the urge to stare at him in surprise. You’re not sure you’ve seen him sit anywhere but in the chair the entire time you’ve been here. 

It’s silent between the two of you for a few moments, aside from the occasional sniffle from you. You wipe the remaining tears from your face, removing the melted ice pack from your shoulder, tossing it on the coffee table. This feels very familiar to you, this position. You’ve been here before, back when you punched the asshole alpha who insulted you. 

“My dad was a real asshole.” 

You turn your head slightly in surprise when Ghost break’s the silence suddenly. He’s not looking at you, his gaze distant, far away. You know that look well. You’ve seen it on him before, and also on a few omegas at the institute. You’re sure it’s graced your face as well many times. 

“He was a trad alpha, real piece of shit who couldn’t control his anger. Took it out on all of us. My mum, my brother, me.” He scoffs. “Mum took the brunt of it, but Tommy and I faced our fair share of it too. He used to bring dangerous animals home and taunted us with them. Made me kiss a snake once. He did all kinds of horrible things to us.” His voice softens a bit in a way you’ve never heard before. You’ve never seen him so vulnerable, not even when he told you about his own nightmares. “I’ve never wanted an omega, because of the things my dad did to my mum. I never wanted a pack either, but...maybe something deep down in me did because I said yes to this whole experiment.” 

The silence hangs heavy between you for a moment. You’re not sure what to say, or if you can even manage to say anything in response to what he’s just told you. You had no idea what his life was like growing up, except that he was also a purebred. 

“I was always too afraid the cycle would continue, that I’d turn out to be another piece of shit, just like my dad.” He says. 

“I don’t think you’re a piece of shit.” You say, your voice cracking a bit. 

He huffs out a breath. “Thanks.” He stares down at the coffee table, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Did your dad ever hit you?” 

You shake your head. “Never directly. He got rough sometimes, grabbing us, squeezing too hard, yanking us around. He never stopped my brothers when they got too rough, though. They liked to wrestle, and I wanted to join because I wanted to spend time with my cooler older brothers. Sometimes they’d forget I was smaller than them and I got hurt a couple times. He never reprimanded them when it happened. I think he enjoyed it more than anything. He mostly just yelled a lot.” 

“Trad alphas only speak the language of yelling and violence.” He says. “If my father wasn’t screaming at us, his fists were getting the message across. Sometimes he’d do both at the same time.” Ghost shakes his head. “Real pieces of shit, trad alphas. Makes me sick, the kinds of things they believe in.” 

“I’m sorry about what happened to you.” You say, fishing for anything to follow up his confession with. Nothing feels right, nothing feels like enough. 

He shrugs. “It happened. It’s in the past. He died a few years ago. Left nothing but a stain behind.” 

“What happened to your mom and brother?” You ask. 

“Tommy got into drugs for a while, but he cleaned up and got married. Mum lives with him now. Still doing well.” He says. 

You’re surprised by his words. You’ve always heard that omegas don’t last long without their alphas. But what if their alpha was an asshole? Is the relief of their death enough to scrub out the grief of losing your alpha? 

You stare at the side of Ghost’s head, your heart thudding in your chest. You feel sorry for him, but at the same time, you’re grateful he shared this with you. You have much more in common than you thought you did with the giant aloof alpha. Maybe, perhaps, this can be a way for the two of you to grow closer, maybe you finally have common ground that you can share with him to get him to open up to you more. You know he wants it. The revelation of his disappointment at your lack of greeting, and the fact he let you hug him is enough to tell you he wants something more with you. It might never breach the realm of romance or even a casual fling, but you can’t deny the bond is there. You can feel it, the tugging in your chest as you look at him, the butterflies in your stomach when he puts a hand on your back to steer you through the crowd in the mess. 

You want him to want you. You want him to open up, to peel the layers back and bare his very soul to you. He’s already started. This confession is the beginning of that kind of bond between you. That he trusts you enough to tell you this makes something flutter in your chest. 

If only he knew you were keeping something worse from him. 

You could tell him. Confess to him right here, right now. Spill it all in this sort of mock confessional, this mock therapy session between you. He’ll be mad, but perhaps after everything that’s transpired today, he’ll be lenient. You’re not sure you could say the same about John, though. 

“Ghost, I-” You start but he cuts you off. 

“Simon.” 

“What?” You breathe, blinking in shock as he turns to face you. 

“My name. It’s Simon.” 

NEXT ->

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[dreamwritesimagines]

Declassified [2] - Retaliation

A.N: I watched Thunderbolts* and I am ✨back on my bullshit✨ 🩷

I hope you guys like it! 🥰 Please let me know what you think! 🩷

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky x Female!Reader

Summary: Actions have consequences.

Warnings: Unwanted touching in the workplace (nothing graphic but please be careful reading it) , mentions of vaping, mentions of violence

Word Count: 3434 (and yes, this was supposed to be a blurb)

This chapter can be read as a standalone but if you want to see more of them, here is chapter 1! 🩷

It wasn’t very often that you were late to work, and if it were any other time you would be rushing inside, darting past everyone but your therapist had been very insistent about you taking some time early in the morning to ground yourself, so here you were; outside the building, focused on your breathing.

“I am healthy, I am wealthy,” you said, inhaling and exhaling slowly. “I am rich, I am that bitch—”

“What are you doing?”

You jumped out of your skin, your eyes snapping open with a gasp to see Bucky watching you with a curious look in his eyes. You let out a breath, pressing a hand over your chest.

“You scared me!”

“Sorry about that.” Bucky gave you an apologetic smile. “I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you, it’s a force of habit. What are you doing?”

You gestured at the building.

“It’s gonna be chaos in there,” you said. “I didn’t have time to do my affirmations this morning so I’m doing them before I walk in.”

“Affirmations?”

“Yeah, I usually do them in front of the mirror but like I said, didn’t have time,” you said. “I’m almost done, I’ll be right there.”

“It’s okay, I can wait,” Bucky said and you shrugged your shoulders, then closed your eyes again and clasped your hands in front of you.

“I am healthy, I am wealthy, I am rich, I am that bitch,” you recited. “If the world is a high school, I’m the head cheerleader. If the world is a knee, I’m Tonya Harding. If the world is an open buffet, I’m a damn snack. I have the confidence of an evil tech bro and the looks of a pretty princess, and I get princess treatment from the universe.”

You opened your eyes to find Bucky staring at you in utter confusion, but as soon as he realized you were finished, he nodded his head fervently.

“Uh—” He seemed at a loss for words. “Amen?”

You pursed your lips to control your smile, then walked into the building with him following you.

“How come you didn’t have time this morning?” he asked and you hummed.

“Me and the rest of the team went to karaoke last night,” you said. “Got plastered, and the last thing I remember is me and Kelsey trying to sing Bohemian Rhapsody.”

Bucky let out a chuckle and followed you to your desk. “Isn’t Queen a bit too old for you?”

“Queen is goddamn timeless, take that back.”

“No I’m surprised you know—”

“I’m also surprised you know Queen, it’s a bit too new for you,” you teased him back as Caleb put a file on your desk.

“There you go Birdie.”

“Caleb!”

Bucky raised his brows. “Birdie?”

“She sings like a bird, I’ll send you the video,” Caleb replied with a grin and you pointed at him.

“I’ll kill you once I’m off the clock.”

“With your voice?”

“With a knife,” you said and he feigned a gasp, then walked away from you. You let out a whine.

“I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

“Don’t think so Birdie.”

“I will kill you too,” you told Bucky as he shot you a smirk that made your stomach do a pleasant flip. “I’m serious. I have tricks you don’t even know about.”

“I’m very intimidated.”

“You should be,” you said and turned your laptop on, then clicked on a file. “By the way, you have a meeting with Mr. Thompson today, are you prepared?”

Bucky made a face. “I don’t really like that guy.”

“And unfortunately politics doesn’t care about who you like,” you said, your eyes glued to the screen as you attached the file to the email. “We can use him and his connections, so play nice alright?”

“No promises—”

“Yes promises.” You glared at him. “Yes promises right now.”

Bucky groaned and threw his head back. “But listen—”

“Go look over the email I sent you, it has everything you need for your meeting with him.”

“When did you send me an email?”

“Just now.”

“You’re talking to me right now, how did you—?”

“I’m great at my job, that’s how,” you told him and pointed at his office without taking your eyes off the screen. “Go. He will be here in two hours.”

If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought the infamous Winter Soldier, the future Congressman, the great Bucky Barnes was sulking but he walked away without protest, making you repress a smile.

By the time Mr. Thompson’s meeting with Bucky was over, it was nearly lunch time. Caleb and Kelsey were already vaping outside, and you sent the email you had been working on for the last couple of minutes, then grabbed your purse to leave the office, your eyes still glued to your phone. Your whole focus was on the news article about Bucky, so you didn’t even realize the man who was about to step out the door as well until you bumped into him and your head shot up.

“Oh, sorry about that Mr. Thompson!” you said and gave him an apologetic smile. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Oh no no, after you,” he said and you passed by him but as soon as you did, you felt his hand on your butt. Your whole body froze, your stomach lurching with the sudden panic that crashed onto you out of nowhere while he walked past you, his driver opening the door for him. You stared at his car until it drove off, your eyes burning with unshed tears, bile coating the back of your throat but you forced yourself to swallow, tightening your jaw.

“Hey, you ready?” Kelsey asked, the blueberry scent of her vape filling your lungs as you took a deep breath, then blinked back the tears.

“Sure!” You tried to smile. “Let’s—let’s go.”

                                            *

You couldn’t even decide who you were angry at more.

He was a perverted asshole, that was for sure, but now that you were thinking about it, you should’ve yelled at him.

Or slapped him.

Or did something other than freezing in your spot like an idiot.                                       

The tension hadn’t left your body for the whole day, no matter how much you tried to focus on work. All you wanted was to go home and take a long shower and bury yourself under the covers, so once everyone started to leave the office, you grabbed the file and knocked on Bucky’s door.

“Hey, here are the files for tomorrow,” you rasped out and put them on his desk. “I’m gonna leave if that’s all.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t look okay.”

If it were any other time, you would’ve come up with a snarky comment but you were way too tired to do so.

“Um, I just want to go home if you don’t need me for the rest of the evening.”

Bucky stood up from behind his desk to approach you, his pleasant scent tickling your nose.

“What happened?” he asked softly and you bit inside your cheek.

“Nothing.”

“Listen, if it were any other time I would be thrilled to see you leave on time for once, but not like this,” he said. “What is it?”

You shifted your weight, your eyes cast on the desk just so that you could focus on something other than the threat of tears tingling the bridge of your nose.

“Just a bad day I guess.”

“Who’s responsible for that?”

You rolled your eyes at him playfully, the dread in your stomach easing just a little.

“Why, are you gonna go Winter Soldier on them?”

“If needed.” His voice didn’t hold a teasing tone unlike before, instead it was almost dark. “Who?”

You let out a bitter laugh. “We’re making you a congressman, you can’t do the whole scary super assassin thing anymore—”

“Who?” he repeated and you heaved a sigh.

“You were right about Mr. Thompson,” you muttered. “He is an asshole who pretends to be a gentleman. Apparently he holds the door open for you with his left hand to feel you up with his right hand.”

The moment the words left your lips, something in his eyes shifted, making you frown in confusion before your heart started beating in your throat.

Ah.

There.

Ever since you started working for Bucky, Winter Soldier had been a popular topic among your friends. They all kept insisting that it gave him the perfect air of mystery and danger, and that it made him even hotter. You weren’t an idiot, you knew very well just how handsome he was, how he stood out among all the politicians – or anyone else in the room, to be honest— but up until this point, you had never seen any trace of the infamous Winter Soldier in him. For you, Bucky was your very, very attractive boss who was genuinely so protective, so honest and so good to people around him that sometimes you wondered if he was even fit for the dirty world of politics.

But until now, it had never crossed your mind that Bucky was perfectly capable of being the most dangerous man in the room, he just made the conscious decision to shield the world from that side of him.

“He did what?”

The low growl made your whole body warm and you could only stare at him for a couple of seconds before forcing yourself to snap out of it and licked your lips.

Bucky was your boss, you were in a relationship, and this was making you feel things you definitely weren’t supposed to feel.

“It’s nothing,” you said in a rush, taking a step back. “I’m fine, it was just….who hasn’t been through that, am I right? People suck and I—I’m just gonna go home and take a shower and forget this whole day happened. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You walked out of his office and snatched your purse off your desk without even slowing down, then left the building.

Normally, you wouldn’t be caught dead without your headphones in the subway but you were so lost in your thoughts that it was only when you reached home that you realized you weren’t wearing them. You frowned to yourself, then pressed your palms on your eyes, then dropped your hands with a sigh.

It was just because of today.

That was it.

And besides, anyone could see Bucky was handsome. It was an objective observation –hell, you were the one who kept joking that his looks would grant him a seat in the congress— so if anything, it just meant you were good at your job.

You unlocked the door and stepped inside, then closed the door behind you.

“Max?”

“In here babe!”

You made your way to the kitchen to find him on a stall, his whole focus on his laptop screen. You quickly pecked him on the lips, then put your purse on the kitchen island while he clicked away at the keyboard.

“You’re home early.”

“So are you,” you said. “Oh my God, you will not believe what happened today.”

“What?”

“You remember Mr. Thompson?”

“The guy who owns that sports foundation, right?”

“Yeah, him!” you said. “So, he had a meeting with Bucky today, and it was around my lunchtime, and as I was walking out, he held the door open for me and then touched my butt!”

He looked up from his laptop.

“Holy shit, that’s fucked,” he said. “You okay?”

“Can you believe that?” you exclaimed. “He walks around like—everyone thinks he’s this sweet old guy, and he—he goes and does that? It’s so fucking disgusting!”

“It is.”

“I should’ve slapped him,” you told him. “Seriously. Or like, punched him or something. That’s what he deserves, that fucking pervert.”

“He really does,” he said. “Hey, should we have pizza for dinner?”

You blinked a couple of times, silence falling upon the kitchen as you searched for the right words through the anger burning in your head.

“That’s it?” you asked after a beat. “I’m telling you some creep groped me and your reaction is just ‘that’s fucked, what’s for dinner’?”

“What am I supposed to do?” he asked back with a laugh. “Challenge him to a duel?”

“If you could be angry, that would be appreciated,” you snapped and he pulled his brows together.

“I am angry.”

“Are you?”

“What, I should go and beat him up to show that to you?” he asked, his tone mocking. “It’s just a creepy guy with a wandering hand. No harm done—”

“Maybe I should be the one to decide if there’s any harm done, Max,” you growled through your teeth. “Seeing that it was my ass that was involved, literally!”

“Alright.” He let out a tired sigh. “I get that you’re upset, but there’s no need to take it out on me, I can’t do anything about what happened. There’s always gonna be creepy guys around you, you can’t let that affect you this much. It’s not gonna solve anything, it’ll just make you more upset.”

You could feel the headache creeping up on you, climbing from the base of your neck to your temples as you gritted your teeth, then ran a hand over your face.

“Wow,” you said. “You know what? I’m just gonna take a shower and go to bed. Eat whatever you want.”

“Babe, come on—” he started but you walked out of the kitchen to the hallway, then slammed the bathroom door behind you, your eyes still burning.

                                              *

Your headache was a little better when you woke up. You were still angry and hungry at the same time, so on your way to work, you got a sandwich, coffee with four shots of espresso and some pastries for yourself and the people at the office. As usual, you were the first one to arrive, so you placed the pastries in the kitchen, made your way to your desk, put your earbuds in and got to work.

You were halfway into your report when Kelsey snapped her fingers in front of your eyes, making your head shoot up.

“Thanks for the eclairs Birdie,” she said when you took out your earbuds and you made a face.

“Not you too.”

“Bucky still isn’t in?” Caleb asked as he put a file in front of you while biting into an éclair and you and Kelsey both shook your heads.

“He has that breakfast thing with—”

“With Mrs. Ainsley in Borough Park,” you said and checked the time on your laptop. “Should be here soon though.”

Caleb popped the rest of the éclair in his mouth, then sat on your desk.

“So, let’s get the theories about last night,” he said. “I say it was his wife’s boyfriend.”

“Nah, I say it was a robbery.”

“Nothing was stolen.”

“The guy is loaded, he probably has stuff he doesn’t want the public to—”

“Who are we talking about?” you cut them off and they both turned to give you a look of disbelief.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t heard.”

“Heard what?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat as you grabbed your phone. “I’ve been working on my report since I got here, what did I miss?”

“It came out last night!”

“I had a fight with Max last night—what happened?”

Kelsey tilted her head. “What happened with Max?”

“Long story, what’s going on?”

Caleb leaned back on his palms.

“Someone broke into Mr. Thompson’s house last night.”

Your heart started beating in your throat. “What?”

“Yeah, someone broke into his house—which is insane by the way, he usually has security there and a bunch of alarms— and my journalist friend got the first report, that was definitely personal. All the bones in his right hand are basically dust now, no one knows what kind of machine they used.”

You stared at him while Kelsey let out a snort.

“He knows, he just refuses to say anything.”

“The guy is traumatized.”

“That, and he lost all his teeth.”

“Exactly. He must’ve blocked it out because if he remembered, he would’ve given the description in writing.”

No.

Absolutely not, that was—

That was a coincidence, that’s all.

Bucky didn’t care enough about you to do that, your relationship was purely professional.

“He won’t,” Kelsey said. “People say he saw who it was, but is too scared to tell the police who it is.”

“I’m telling you, it’s his wife’s boyfriend or something, there is something personal—”

He stopped talking and jumped off your desk, causing you to turn your head to see Bucky walking to his office. Bucky offered you a small smile and nodded at your friends before entering his office and you let out a breath, leaning back on your chair.

“Ugh, he’s too hot,” Kelsey said and Caleb rolled his eyes.

“He’s your boss, dumbass. Don’t shit where you eat.”

“I’m not doing anything!”

“Yet.”

“Listen, we all know the Venn diagram of his potential voters and the people who want to fuck him.”

“I still cannot believe Paul put that in the Powerpoint presentation, that was the most uncomfortable I’ve ever seen Bucky.”

“Oh please, as if Bucky doesn’t know how fuckable he is.”

“And do you realize what that means? We don’t ask people that question, it’s not in the survey, so it means almost all those voters just gave away that information voluntarily—”

“Uh, guys?” You hit print on the document, then grabbed the file out of the printer. “I’ll be right back.”  

You could swear your legs were shaky as you approached his office, then licked your lips and knocked on the door to peek your head in.

“Hey, are you busy?”

“Not at all,” he said and you stepped in, breathing fast for some reason. “I was just about to come to talk to you. How do you feel? After yesterday?”

“Oh I’m…I’m fine,” you said and rushed to put the report on his desk. “There. The latest numbers.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” you said breathlessly and turned around to leave, but then changed your mind and turned around again.

“Bucky?”

His piercing blue eyes on you were soft. “Yes?”

“Did you um—did you hear about Mr. Thompson?” you stammered. “Apparently someone broke into his house last night, through the security and all the alarms.”

He raised his brows in silence.

“It’s pretty weird, isn’t it?” you insisted. “Whoever it was, he broke all the bones in his right hand.”

A small smile twitched Bucky’s lips before he shrugged his shoulders.

“He needs his left hand to open doors.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, a warmth spreading from your chest to your stomach, and lower, and lower—

Holy shit.

It was Bucky.

The warmth turned into a fire rushing through your veins, making you lightheaded while you stared at him, your stomach doing happy flips. You didn’t even realize the smile curling your lips at first but as soon as you did, you cleared your throat.

“Bucky.”

“Hm?”

“You shouldn’t have.”

He scoffed. “We’ll have to disagree on that one.”

“He has security around his house,” you insisted. “You shouldn’t have put yourself in danger like that.”

He seemed almost offended that you thought security could pose any danger to him and you tried to focus on the issue at hand rather than just how adorable it made him look.

“And we were trying to get his support, if anyone saw you—”

“I don’t care about his support, nor do I want it anymore.”

Focus.

He’s your boss.

Focus.

“He apologized to you, by the way,” Bucky added, mischief glimmering in his eyes. “He would’ve said it himself but he doesn’t have teeth anymore, so…”

That managed to coax a burst of laughter out of you and you covered your mouth, then dropped your hands, trying to ignore the fluttering in your stomach.

“Thank you,” you managed to say and he held your gaze in his, making the butterflies in your stomach even worse.

His voice was soft: “Don’t mention it.”

You lingered there for a moment, then turned around and walked out of his office to your desk where Kelsey and Caleb were still talking. You could feel the fire blooming under your cheeks but you let out a breath and sat down, willing yourself to focus.

“Sorry about that,” you said. “What was that about the Venn diagram?”

Chapter 3  

[elysianightsss]

Pen Pal Price Part Two🫧🍑

nsfw ahead so I’ll cut it off at that point…reader is also described as chubby below because I am so they are too lol.

-

His voice startles you to the point where you visibly flinch, it’s nothing like how you imagined it to be. First of all, you didn’t know he was British. The accent that wraps around his words so sharply is one you recognise but can’t quite put your finger on in this moment.

His voice is deep, rumbles out somewhere from within his chest. It vibrates through the phone and through you. For him your honeyed voice drips into him like the sweetest summer wine.

“Sound so pretty.” You hear him mutter, barely a whisper but definitely something he was trying to hide. Your cheeks burn as you blush hard, your bottom lip caught between your teeth while you think of what to say to the man you’ve been writing to for weeks on end.

So many words exchanged and yet now you’re at a loss. Can’t think properly, it begs the question; how will you react when you meet in person?

“I haven’t got long, I guess now’s the time I tell you what I do for a living.” He chuckles lightly and you wish you could see his face while he does.

“Sounds intriguing.” You frown though your face is still smile stricken.

“Oh you bet it is love. Very dangerous, rough. I don’t think you’d want to hear about it.”

“Excuse me good sir, I live for danger. Did I not tell you how I dangerously painted the spare bedroom the other day? Though I don’t think it went well.” You joked looking over at the room that was half done and had paint streaks pointing in all different directions.

“Are you doubting your mad painting skills?” Your heart soared at the joke, at his laugh, just all of this. Being able to speak to him properly, being able to communicate more easily without waiting a whole week for his response to arrive by post. Shifting through the mail everyday desperate to read his words. You hadn’t felt this happy in years.

“Maybe just a little.” There’s a pause, and you think you hear some background chatter, something about unit leaving and someone definitely says captain, “maybe you could help me?”

“I definitely will.” He doesn’t hesitate with his answer, it’s so sure and so final. It says a lot about him. You’re desperate to know more. “I’m sorry love, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you tomorrow? Same time?”

And he does, you lunge for the phone practically jumping through the air to answer him. You chat about useless things, have silly little conversations about everyday life. There are days when you think it’s his day off work, those days he stays on the phone to you for hours. Those days are your favourite.

He tells you about the new book he got and even reads you a few chapters while you cook dinner, he makes you promise to cook him a meal sometime. You don’t hesitate to agree.

Again he loves the domesticity of it all, how prefect you are in his eyes, though his ocean blues haven’t actually seen you yet. What a perfect little wife you would make. He knows it’s far too soon to think about things like that but he cannot help himself.

The way you fly away with yourself, talking about what you’re doing that day or joking about something you saw on tv or giggling about the cupcakes you were making because the icing went wrong making what you piped look like pigs instead of the unicorns you were going for, for you niece’s birthday party.

He listens with his eyes closed, dreaming of the day he comes back from deployment. The day he comes back to you, to home smelling of freshly baked goods. His pretty lady waiting for him all smiles and giggles. He wishes.

“Um..” you pause unsure, wondering what if he says no.

“What is it love?” He asks so worried. So ready to fix any problem you throw his why. Once again though you hesitate and once more he encourages you, “Come on pretty lady, tell me. What’s up?” You let the nickname you’ve reprimanded him about numerous times slide with what you’re about to ask.

“D-Did you want t-to video call?” He grins at how fucking adorable you are. The way you stutter just asking a simple question like that. He bites back a groan at the way he stiffens in his trousers. Dirty old man.

“I would love to.” He of course then had to explain he had a flip phone. You laughed hard at him and said he would need a smartphone. You had no idea he would go and buy one just to video call you with. Another thing you reprimand him for, spending his hard earned money so easily like that. His little lady nagging him, and all he does is smile at the sound. He loves it.

Your heart hammers in your chest as the phone rings. A lot like the first time he called you. You had talked him through the set up and helped him understand what an app is and how to call on text on a smart phone. And finally, you told him how to video call. Which app to press, you were just explaining how it works when your phone begins to buzz with ‘John💕 is FaceTime you’ popping up on the screen. Your number of course being the first one he added.

You can’t help but feel nervous, checking you look semi okay on the screen before pressing the green answer button. Then your breath is knocked out of you so hard you actually choke, John fussing about getting some water and breathing for him goes in one ear and out the other. You can’t look away from him even as you catch your breath.

He’s nothing like you pictured and yet he’s perfect.

He looks like the kind of man you picture when you read romance novels and the kind of man that sneaks into the dreams that have you waking up hot under the collar and panties sticking to you uncomfortably. The little description of himself you asked for certainly did not do him justice.

“Hi love.”

“Hi John.”

“Fuck you’re gorgeous.” Even though you frown, you can’t stop a smile from splitting your face.

You’ve got chubbier cheeks and thicker thighs than most girls, something you’re insecure about and john can tell. But fuck you look gorgeous to him. Over the next few weeks John catches on to just how badly you feel about your body image, the way you put yourself down in favour of supermodels, the way you wear oversized clothing to cover yourself up. He finds himself grumbling, hating it each second more than the last.

He understands how badly beauty culture has fucked over women who are genuinely beautiful but are made to feel like they’re nothing. He gets it, he does. But he certainly doesn’t agree. Especially not with you. He finds himself dreaming of those squishable cheeks of yours, the way you’re so soft around the edges, he can tell.

You completely did him in last Monday, it’s the middle of winter for goodness sake, how did he know that you’d be wearing shorts when he FaceTimed you. Gym shorts that hugged your plump ass so fucking perfectly, that flashed your thick thighs to him. Christ, he’s been thinking about those pretty thighs all week long. When he’s running drills, your thighs are on his mind. When he’s planning out a mission with his unit, your thighs are on his mind. And when he’s alone at night with his hand wrapped around his swollen cock, your thighs are on his mind.

He can’t stand it anymore, it’s been agonising with how busy he’s been not calling you, not seeing you or hearing your voice. No knowing what you’ve been up to or how your day has gone. He calls and he praises the Lord above for bringing you to him, when you answer. A prayer on his lips, a beg for you to become his wife one day when you’re there smiling in the cutest silk pyjama set he’s ever seen. It hugs you exquisitely, showing off your rounded edges and all John can think about is how he can’t wait to sink his teeth into the soft flesh of your tummy.

You’re clearly fresh out the shower or bath with your damp hair and freshly wash face, but John’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life, in fact he tells you so. You haven’t felt your cheeks burn the way they did then, well maybe one other occasion.

“Love?”

“Yes John?”

“Would you like to meet me for coffee tomorrow? At that cafe you like?” He’s hopeful when he asks, you can not only hear it in his voice but see it in his face. “I’m in the area for work and have a few days where I’m free and I’d love to see you.”

You can’t recall a time in your life where all you did was smile, but since you found John, you don’t remember what not smiling all the time was like. You don’t remember anything other than how happy he makes you. So you take a breath, you muster up the courage and say yes.

“I’d love to see you too John. Just tell me what time and I’ll be there.”

[wbbpls]

Platonic Plus One

Word count: 6,500 Warnings: sexual content bc i edged you guys hard on getting this chapter okay here it is!! thank you all for your patience and i hope it was worth the wait. pretty please drops reacts or anything else. do you guys want to see this go back to storrs or let it end here?

Azzi is the first to wake up. She feels a weight on her, and when she wakes up, sure enough, blonde hair covers her shoulder and neck. Paige’s head is comfortably placed in the nook of Azzi’s neck, like it always belonged there, and her arms are tightly wrapped around Azzi’s stomach. Her legs are wrapped over Azzi’s as if she’s trying to keep her from flying away. 

Memories of last night start flooding Azzi’s brain. She expected to feel panic or worry, but for the first time this week, her head is just calm. Everyone thinks Azzi is the calm one who brings Paige out of the clouds, but that’s where they’re wrong. The blonde girl she’s holding, who is so full of life, also keeps her safe. Safe not to overthink or worry. Safe to be calm. 

Azzi gently moves the hair out of Paige’s face and kisses her head. Paige wiggles further into Azzi as if she weren’t close enough already. Azzi giggles and rubs her hand up and down Paige’s back.

“Paigey, I don’t think you can get any closer without living in my skin.”

“Can I just move in?” Paige mumbles into her neck and pulls her even closer. Azzi can’t stop the giggles from coming out. She feels like a middle schooler with how much she’s already giggled this morning. Paige smiles and starts kissing Azzi’s neck. 

“You’re so fuckin’ cute in the morning.” 

“Just cute?”

“And sexy. You’re cutexy.” Paige wiggles her eyebrows proudly. 

“Yeah, not so sure that worked as well as you wanted it to.”

“Next time you’re being cutexy, I won’t tell you then.”

Azzi doesn’t even know how to respond, so she just smiles down at Paige and runs her fingers through her hair. Paige looks up at her with shining blue eyes.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty in the morning, Azzi.”

“And you’re just full of compliments in the morning, aren’t you?”

“Just facts, babygirl, just facts.”

Azzi softly kisses Paige. 

“Mhm, and an important fact is that I need to leave soon to get my hair and makeup done.”

“Already? It’s so early.”

“I know, but it’s like an all-day thing.”

“Shit, what am I supposed to do without you?”

“Uh, what do you normally do?”

“I normally just wait for you to get back.”

“Have you always been this cute?”

“Born this way, babayyy.”

Azzi can’t help but laugh, almost in relief at the freedom to voice her thoughts. For so long, she’s held in the moments she wanted to call Paige pretty or beautiful. It’s been years of holding back, and now the floodgates have opened.

Soft lips descending her neck pulled Azzi out of her thoughts. She takes in the weight of Paige’s body and sighs as she nips at her collarbones. 

“P, I gotta be downstairs in twenty minutes.”

“Aight, give me five, Princess,” Paige says with a smirk and quickly presses something into her phone before throwing it to the side. She then drops down Azzi’s body and opens her legs, immediately licking up her slit.

“Fuck, Paige.” Azzi gasped, overwhelmed by her directness.

“What, baby? Thought you needed me to hurry?”

“Ugh, shut up.” Azzi grabs Paige’s back of the head and pulls her back in.

Paige dives in with determination, stimulating her clit. Azzi immediately starts to buck her hips up to chase her lips, and Paige grabs her hips to keep her down. 

“You taste so good, mama.”

“Please don’t stop.”

“Never, baby.”

Paige enters two fingers, curling them in. Azzi’s moans grow louder as she pulls harder at Paige’s hair. She’s grasping so tightly on her hair that it’s starting to be painful, but Paige doesn’t care. She has tunnel vision focused on nothing but Azzi’s pleasure. Her legs begin to shake and squeeze tightly around Paige’s head. She’s screaming Paige’s name and gasping for air. 

“C’mon, baby girl, let go for me. I wanna taste you so bad.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna come!”

Paige moved her tongue into Azzi’s entrance while still pumping her fingers and firmly licks back up to her clit. Then she sucks on it, making Azzi arch off the bed giving Paige space for her fingers to go even deeper into her. That does it, and Azzi comes screaming while Paige rides out her orgasm. 

She pushed Paige’s head away, signaling she was done, and tried to pull Paige back up to kiss her. Instead, Paige quickly grabbed her phone, which had been tossed on the bed. 

“Are you seriously checking your phone right after fucking me?”

“Three minutes and thirty-five seconds.”

“Uh, what?”

“That’s how long it took me to fuck you.”

Azzi stares blankly at Paige, trying to figure out if this is real or some big joke, but Paige’s proud smirk says otherwise. 

“You seriously timed yourself eating me out?”

“I told you five minutes tops. Plus, I can start making new records or somethin’.”

“You are genuinely insufferable.”

“Yeah, true, but you benefit if it helps.”

Paige shrugs, kisses Azzi on the lips, and then snuggles back under the covers. Azzi is at a loss for words. How did they go from admitting their feelings to eachother last night to Paige competing for best her personal records on fucking Azzi fast enough? 

“Imma go back to sleep. Love you, baby.”

Azzi shakes her head, trying to catch her brain up to where Paige is, which isn’t usually possible. Her brain is like a pinball machine, and it's best just to try to keep up. 

“I love you, too, P.”

After hours of hair and makeup, Azzi patiently waits to put on her bridesmaids' dress before taking photos, so she texts Paige. 

Princess 💗: I miss your stupid face so much.

Paigey 💗: stupid?

This face? stupid???

image sent

Paige sends a selfie of herself still cuddled in bed. Azzi can’t help but appreciate the soft skin exposed. 

Princess 💗: hmm very cutexy

Paigey 💗: YOU SEE THE VISION

Princess 💗: I see a face that gives me cuteness aggression 

Paigey 💗: bro i wanna kiss you bad right now

Princess 💗: maybe start by not calling me bro and you could

Paigey 💗: my bad baby

I wanna kiss ur beautiful face all over 

and then kiss the rest of you all over

Princess 💗: pls feel free to continue

Paigey 💗: all night mama

btw where my photo of you at? I sent one so it's only fair i get one back

Azzi chuckles and takes a selfie with the sunlight shining on her face. 

Paigey 💗: fuck ur so fuckin beatiful az

Princess 💗: It’s just good makeup haha

Paigey 💗: nah its my girl lookin hot asf

Azzi’s heart stutters. My girl. 

They haven’t spoken about labels yet, or anything past "I love you," for that matter. Azzi knows they should communicate and define this next step in their relationship, but for now, she’ll enjoy blushing over Paige’s text for the next five minutes. 

Princess 💗: I gotta take photos before the ceremony so i wont have my phone for a while. I'll see you there cutie

Paigey 💗hearted the message.

—————————————————————————

Since she has most of the day to herself, Paige slept in and is now heading to the lobby for lunch. Once she got downstairs, she ran into Katie and Tim. 

“Bueckers, here, now!” Tim calls her over with a big smile.

“Sir, yes, sir.” Paige jokingly salutes Tim. 

“Take a seat, hun. We actually wanted to talk to you before the wedding.” Paige slips cautiously into the booth next to Katie. 

“Uh, okay...Am I in trouble or somethin’?”

“Not unless you do something stupid to our daughter, no,” Tim says sternly.

“Oh, Tim, leave her alone,” Katie rolls her eyes at him before turning to Paige. “Look, Paige, we know your relationship with Azzi has been fake.”

Paige choked on the drinking water, causing Tim to crack up at her. 

“W-what?”

“Yeah, Azzi told me the other day.”

“Wait, she told you? Why didn’t she tell me?”

“I asked the same thing, Bueckers.” 

“Tim, you’re about to get kicked out.”

Tim throws his hands up in surrender, snickering at how easy it is to mess with his wife. 

“Look, sweetie, you know we love you and we know you love Azzi just as much, if not more. It’s been clear for years that there’s more to your friendship. We just want you to know that it’s okay and no matter what, you’ll always be our family.”

Paige is shocked to silence, so Tim takes the opportunity to fill that gap, “Unless you hurt her, then I’m comin’ after you.”

That gets Paige to laugh and take a deep breath. 

“I never ever want to hurt Azzi, I swear. She’s everything to me.”

“We can tell. Just don’t spend so much time being scared of what you’ll lose. You’re stopping yourself from having so much more.” 

“Thanks, guys. It actually is really nice to talk to someone who understands what’s going on. I was going crazy in my head there for a minute.”

The three continue to talk about Azzi, basketball, old stories, and funny family memories. As they begin to wrap up, Paige hesitantly gets their attention. 

“Sooooo, I was—well, I guess—no, I know—”

“Spit it out, kid.”

“IwanttoaskAzzitobemygirlfriend.” Paige takes a large breath and anxiously stares at the Fudds. 

“You know, like forreal this time.”

“Okay, so do it.”

————————————————————————-

Paige takes her time getting ready, letting last night's and this morning's realities settle. She’s trying to digest everything Azzi, Katie, and Tim have said. This is all she’s ever wanted, and now that it’s here, she feels overwhelmed with gratitude and fear. Fear of messing up and losing all of this, losing Azzi. She knows they need to talk. She also knows that Azzi deserves her to initiate the conversation. Azzi risked it all and put her feelings on the line when all Paige knew how to do was run. Well, she’s done running.

Now she’s doing her hair and makeup before getting dressed for the ceremony. She hasn’t seen Azzi in her dress yet, and Azzi hasn't seen Paige since she got the outfit tailored or with accessories. 

Paige parts her hair in the middle, curls her hair into long waves, and pins the front back to keep her hair out of her face. She knows Azzi loves her hair in a bun, but she especially loves to play with Paige’s long hair strands when she wears them down. And after the past 24 hours? Paige has learned Azzi really likes her hair. So yeah, Paige doesn’t mind doing her hair in a way that makes it easy for her to imagine Azzi pulling on it to get what she wants.  

Just half an hour until the ceremony. Paige is starting to feel nervous now. It’s not even her wedding. She’s literally just sitting in the audience and then praying the rest of the night. But in that audience, she will see Azzi for the first time out of the bubble they created in their hotel room. Will it be the same? Will Azzi change her mind? 

She slips on her light blue slacks, lying at the right spot of her hips, and buttons up the black vest. The deep V at the top and bottom is even better now that she’s gotten some color over the past week. She covers herself with gold rings, small gold hoop earrings, and layered necklaces, including the cross Azzi got her when she tore her ACL. 

After putting on her oversized blue jacket and shoes, she checks herself in the mirror one last time. Paige knows she looks good, but that’s not what she cares about. She cares about Azzi thinking she looks good. 

Paige makes her way to the outdoor ceremony and finds the Fudd family sitting a few rows back. 

“Yo, P!” Jose yells, ”We got you a seat right here.”

Paige's heart stutters. This is her family. She has always had a seat at the table with them, despite the changes in her and Azzi’s relationship. For so long, Paige focused on avoidance in fear of ruining a perfect friendship, but now she realizes she wasn’t just stopping herself from more with Azzi. She was stopping herself from having the most amazing family as her own. 

Paige takes her seat and scrolls through TikTok with Jon and Jose until they hear the ceremony music. Paige hasn’t been to many weddings, just her parents when they both got remarried. She knows they’re better off apart, but those weddings represented the split in her family. She always found herself a bit lost in those situations, never really feeling like she belonged.   

Today is different. Today, she is at a wedding with her family and the love of her life. Today, she is excited to celebrate love.

The wedding party begins to walk down the aisle, and Paige is anxiously waiting to see Azzi—her beautiful Azzi. Everyone looks great, and yeah, today is about the bride and groom, but she couldn't care less about anyone else here. Finally, Azzi turns the corner with one of the groomsmen, and Paige stops breathing. 

Her curls are stunning in a bun, with loose curls framing her face. She wears a deep blue silk gown with spaghetti straps and a heart-shaped neckline. As she continues to walk, Paige can’t help but notice the slit going down her right leg. 

Fuck, this is going to be a long night. 

“Dude, close your mouth.” Jose teases and nudges her, pulling her out of her Azzi trance. She probably does look crazy right now, but holy shit that girl is beautiful. 

As they get closer, Azzi finds Paige in the audience, like a magnetic pull. Azzi has to tighten her grip on the groomsman's arm so she doesn’t fall. She can see the love in Paige’s eyes from here. Azzi can’t help but blush and smile at the look of awe on Paige’s face. The image of Paige so at ease with her family, looking like she’s always belonged there, brings warmth to Azzi’s chest. 

Once she reaches the altar, she steps aside to wait for the rest of the wedding party and the bride to walk down. When her cousin Jessica turns the corner, everyone stands, and tears begin to fall. Azzi notices the groom, Brandon, desperately trying to keep his tears at bay. The love in their eyes for each other was an honor to witness and reminded her much of her own love. 

Azzi has always loved planning her imaginary wedding, but never included the groom role. She really only focused on the music, flowers, and colors. But now, she sees why. That spot has always belonged to Paige. She has spent years resisting her, trying to convince herself she needed to find a groom, when she had her bride the whole time. 

Azzi couldn't help but imagine Paige waiting for her at the end of the aisle, ready to start the next chapter of their life with open arms. Azzi knows they haven’t even defined what’s happening between them yet, but she knows one thing. One day, she is going to marry Paige Bueckers. 

When the girls finally see each other again, it’s at the cocktail hour. Azzi tries to move through the crowd to reach Paige, but many of her family members keep stopping her. Paige is looking at her adoringly from the other side of the room, patiently waiting. But Azzi wants her to be impatient and selfish. Azzi wants Paige. Just as she is about to cross the bar to say hi to Paige, her aunt steps in the way. 

“Azzi, you look gorgeous!” 

“Thanks, Aunt Chrissy. You look great, too. This is such a beautiful wedding.”

“You know, your wedding is probably next, my dear.”

Suddenly, Azzi feels familiar hands wrap around her waist, and a whiff of her favorite Valentino cologne clogs her senses. 

“Is that right?” Paige says. Azzi can hear the smirk in her tone before turning to see it herself. When Paige looks down at her, Azzi is taken aback by her bright eyes.  

“H-hey, P.” 

“Hi, pretty girl.”

“Well, I just can’t wait for your wedding. Don’t leave us waiting too long, okay, girls?”

“Don’t worry, Mrs.C, I don’t plan on waiting too long.”

Azzi snaps her head back up to look at Paige. Is this for show? Her aunt is one of the main reasons this all started. Her Aunt Chrissy gets distracted by another family member, leaving them alone. Paige moved to face Azzi and gently pushed a curl out of her face.

“You know what you’re doing is pretty messed up.”

“Me? What did I do?”

“You’re not supposed to outshine the bride, baby. I mean, look at you.”

Azzi rolls her eyes and starts blushing uncontrollably. Paige laughs at her and pulls her in by the waist for a hug. They just hold each other at this point, taking in the feeling of being together.

“I missed you today.”

“I missed you, too, Az. So much.”

Azzi smiles into the crook of Paige’s neck and hums in response. 

“Hey, Az, I was actually hoping we could maybe talk real quick?”

“Right now?”

“Y-yeah, I mean, if that’s like, uh, okay with you.”

“Of course. Want to go somewhere quieter?”

Paige nods and softly grabs Azzi’s hand, pulling her towards the garden and sitting at the bench near the fountain. Paige can’t stop herself from fidgeting, showing her nerves. 

“You okay, P? Is something wrong?”

“No! I mean, no, nothing is wrong. I’m just nervous, I guess.”

Azzi wraps her arm around Paige’s back and starts to rub her hand up and down to soothe her anxiety.

“What are you nervous about?”

“Last night. It was real, right?”

“Very real.”

Paige nods her head and then takes a deep breath.

“Look, Az, I gotta be honest with you. I’ve pushed the option of ever having you outside my head as best I could. But now, now that I know what it’s like to have you, I need all of you or none of you. I’m done being scared and living off of what-ifs. I’m done wasting precious time. I’m done telling myself not to want you. To not need you. I know I ran away last night because I was scared, and I’m really sorry. I’m so thankful that you came after me and made us talk, but because of that, I think it’s even more important that this comes from me. Azzi Fudd, will you please be my girlfriend?”

Azzi hits Paige upside the head.

“Ow!”

“Why didn’t you start with that? I thought you were already breaking up with me or something.”

“What? No! I literally wanna wife you up, baby.”

“Wife me up, huh?”

“Hey, I wasn’t lying to Mrs. C back there. Asking you to be my girlfriend is only step one.”

“Hm, I guess I can be your girlfriend.” Azzi shrugs nonchalantly, trying to hide her smile.

“You guess?” 

Paige starts tickling her, and Azzi desperately tries to push her hands away and catch her breath from laughing. Now she’s fully leaned into Paige, laughing, face red, and finally surrenders. 

“Okay, okay! I really, really want to be your girlfriend. Please give me mercy.” 

Paige pretends to think and taps her finger on her chin. 

“Hmm, I’m not sure I wanna be your girlfriend anymore.”

Azzi’s mouth drops in shock, and she is now the one to attack Paige, trying to tickle her, but Paige is too fast and grabs her wrists. The two girls are breathless and laughing as they look into each other's eyes. Paige’s eyes dart down to Azzi’s lips. 

“You my girl or what?”

“Yeah, I’m yours, P.”

Azzi closes the gap and releases a sigh of content she didn’t even know she was holding. Paige moves her hands up Azzi’s arms and onto her cheek. Their kiss is soft and unrushed. Paige pulls back and rubs her thumb against Azzi’s cheek. They savor the moment to take each other in before Paige leans in for another gentle kiss. 

“Dude, do you ever stop kissing my sister?” Jose interrupts them with a mischievous smile on his face. Azzi hides her head in Paige’s neck, giggling. 

“Literally, why would I?”

“You play too much.”

“Nah, when you get a girl even half as good as Azzi, you’ll get it.”

Azzi’s eyes are practically the definition of heart eyes, looking up at Paige while she talks to her brother right now. Azzi can’t help but notice every detail on Paige’s face. The sharpness in her jaw, the angle of her smile, and the brightness of her eyes. 

“Well, as much fun as it is, and not at all weird to compare my future girlfriend to my sister, I can’t say that’s why I came over. Mom and Dad want a family photo before you know who gets wasted.” Jose says, casually pointing at Paige and walking away. 

“Is he talking about me?” Paige’s voice is about 3 octaves too high, given how offended she is by his accusation. He might not be wrong, but still. 

“I think you’re cute when you’re a little drunk. Plus, you get all clingy.”

“Hm, is that why you’re always the one who offers to walk me home?”

“Yeah, sure, that’s why. Not the excuse to sleep in your bed with a cuddly drunk version of you.”

“Hey, I’m always cuddly.”

“Annoyingly so.”

Paige pouts in response, and Azzi can’t help but laugh at how cute she is and kiss the pout off her lips. 

“I love you so much, P.”

“Mmm, I love you too, Az.”

“You know, this outfit on you is just...wow.” Azzi looks Paige up and down while pulling at her jacket. 

“You like it?”

“I love it so much that I want to see what it looks like when I take it off you.”

“Shit, Az. You can’t say stuff like that when we can’t go anywhere.”

“But the blue makes your eyes pop. It’s so hard not to say stuff when you look like this, and it’s finally all mine.”

Now Paige has a goofy smile, “Yeah, baby, all yours.”

“Maybe you can remind me tonight?” Azzi smirks when Paige’s mouth drops open into an O shape. She runs her finger up Paige’s neck to the bottom of her chin to close her mouth. “Let’s get you drunk, hm?”

Azzi walks away, knowing Paige is watching her.

“Fuck, she’s gonna be the death of me,” Paige whispers to herself before running after her girlfriend.  —————————————————————————

Soon after, both girls are sufficiently tipsy and their heads are in the clouds. They’ve been dancing and talking with family, and Paige has been to the mac and cheese bar about three times. The fourth time Paige goes, she has to selfishly ditch her mac and cheese because the MC announces the slow dance will be starting and to partner up. Azzi's eyes immediately find Paige silently asking for a dance. Paige leaves the sacred mac and cheese line and walks towards Azzi with a smile only for her. 

“Wanna dance with me, Princess?”

Azzi grabs Paige’s hand and follows her to the dance floor. 

“You gonna be too scared to touch my hips again?”

“Ha ha, very funny. I was nervous, okay. ” 

“I mean, I hear you, P, but it's wild to be nervous about that after having your tongue down my throat.” 

“Alright, when you put it like that, I get the perspective...but this time I want to hold you as close as possible.”

The girls smile at each other as the music begins. Paige confidently, yet softly, wraps her hands around Azzi’s hips, and Azzi wraps her hands around Paige’s neck. They hold each other close and begin to sway to the music. 

“I’m really happy you came with me to this, Paige.”

“Me too, Az. I’m just happy to be with you.”

They lean their foreheads on each other’s and Azzi offers soft scratches at the base of Paige’s neck. 

“It’s gonna be weird tomorrow when we need to leave our bubble we made here. I’ve kinda enjoyed having you to myself.”

“Oh yeah?”

“It’s just when we get back, everyone is going to want a piece of you again, and I genuinely don’t blame them. Ice and KK alone need like 48% of you a day and an extra 12% for fortnight.” Azzi says as she pouts. 

“True true, but I’ll always find my way back to you. Even when I am with them or doing something else, I always miss you. If there’s a chance to be with you, Az, I’m taking it. Got it?”

“Got it.” 

“Speaking of going back soon. What do you want to do about telling the team?”

“I don’t know, honestly. Is it weird I kinda want to see how long it takes for someone to say something?”

“Bet. Who do you think will pick up on it first?”

At the same time, both girls say, “Caroline.”

The girls continue to dance and drink for the rest of the night. If people thought they were touchy before, then they had no idea what they were talking about. The girls were taking a break at their table. Paige had her arm wrapped around the back of Azzi’s chair while her other hand gently rubbed at Azzi’s cheek. Azzi leaned into her hand and drew circles on Paige’s thigh.

“You’re so pretty, baby.”

“Thanks, P. You’re not so bad yourself.”

“You want another drink, Mama?”

“Yeah, please. Want me to go with you?”

“Nah, you relax.” 

Paige kissed her on her forehead and then walked towards the bar, and Azzi stayed back to speak with her mom.

“Happy and in love looks good on you.”

“It feels good, too.”

“What you two have is really special. Paige has always been a part of our family, you know?”

“She’s always just fit in like that space was waiting for her.” 

“Maybe it has been.”

—————————————————————————

After chatting a bit more, Paige complains of feeling hot and removes her jacket. Maybe Azzi would have more self-control without alcohol running through her veins, but it’s too late for that. As Paige takes her arm out of each sleeve, the swell of her muscle is outlined and defined by the lighting at the reception. Paige turns to wrap her jacket around the back of her chair before putting her arm back around Azzi. She sits confidently, her legs slightly spread and her arm quietly claiming Azzi. When Paige moves forward to sip her drink, the veins in her arm are more prominent. Suddenly, Azzi is pulled out of her thoughts by Paige tapping at her forehead incessantly. 

“Yo, your Dad is tryna talk to you, babe.”

“Oh, what?”

“You good, Az? You were totally zoned out there.”

“Uh, yeah, just you know, appreciating.”

“Appreciating?”

“Mhm,” Azzi squeaks, and her eyes dart down to Paige’s arms. 

“And what exactly are you appreciating?”

Azzi wants nothing more than to wipe that smirk right off her face. She can tell Paige knows where her head is at now, and she can definitely tell Paige plans to take advantage of it fully.

“Just, like, you know, being here.”

Paige looks amused before moving to “stretch.” When she pulls her arms and tenses her muscles, her top rises slightly, and her muscle definition is clear as day. Azzi grabs her arms, pulling them down quickly. 

“Okay, we get it, you have nice arms.”

“Bruh, I didn’t even do anything.”

“Put your jacket back on before I drag you out of here.”

“Is that a promise or a threat? Because I’m kinda likin’ my odds here.”

Before Azzi could respond, the MC invited guests up for the bouquet toss.  

“Paige, let’s go!”

“What? Me?”

“You’re a girl who isn’t married, aren’t you?”

“I mean, yeah.”

“Glad we’re on the same page. Now let’s go.”

Azzi pulls her up by the arm and intertwines their hands. They gather in a large crowd of women ready to catch the bouquet. Paige has never actually done one of these before and almost feels out of place. 

When the bouquet is thrown, time seems to slow down. Before she knew it, Paige jumped, taking advantage of her long arms as her competitive spirit emerged, and she caught a bouquet. Everyone starts cheering, especially Azzi’s family, and blue eyes find brown eyes. 

“Looks like you’re next in line to get married, Bueckers.”

Paige gulps and laughs nervously. “I guess so, yeah. Can’t complain.”

“Well, when that time comes, she’s gonna be one lucky girl to marry you.”

“Believe me, I’ll be the lucky one.”

Azzi leans in to Paige and kisses her cheek gently before whispering in her ear. “All jokes aside, watching you jump up that high for the bouquet was really hot.”

Paige wasn’t expecting the tone shift, so she burst out laughing. 

“I never say no to the chance at a little competition.” 

As they’re talking, Tim walks and wraps his arm around Paige, squeezing her tightly. “You asked us a few hours ago about Azzi being your girlfriend, not your wife. You move fast, kid.”

Paige’s face immediately turns red, and she starts stuttering, trying to figure out what to say. She darts her eyes at Azzi, looking for help, but Azzi is too busy laughing with Tim at her girlfriend’s embarrassment. 

“Aight, you all suck.”

Paige dramatically shoves the bouquet into Tim’s chest, and he starts laughing harder.

“Aw, P, it’s cute!” Azzi smiles as she wipes Paige’s scowl off her face. Paige tries to stay mad—she really does—but Azzi’s smile is so contagious that it’s honestly just a waste of time. What isn’t a waste of time, however, is messing with Azzi.

“Y’all just keep laughing it up, but according to those flowers I’m next to get married and you, Azzi Fudd, are not.”

“Oh, so we gonna play it like that?”

“The flower gods have spoken. I can’t wait to see you at the wedding, though. I’m thinking you’d be my Maid of Honor. What do you think?”

At this point, Paige is standing way too close to Azzi, allowing herself to almost tower over the younger girl, and Tim walks away with his newfound flowers. He learned a long time ago just to let the girls bicker until they were all over each other again. 

“I think you'd better shut up before you end up with no wife and no girlfriend,” Azzi whispers evenly and looks down at Paige’s lips before looking back up and arching her eyebrow as if she’s saying, “go ahead and try me.” Paige loves it when they get like this and she has a feeling she’s about to love it even more now with their new dynamic. 

“How about I bring you upstairs and show you why you wanna stay my girlfriend?” 

—————————————————————————

The second they make it to their hotel room, they're all over each other. Maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s the confidence that they know they are each other’s, but this time, their kisses are messy and demanding. Paige is running her hand up the open slit of Azzi’s dress towards her warm center.

“I can’t get enough of you, Az. This dress has been killing me all night.”

“So then why is it still on?”

“Bet.”

Paige rushes to unzip her dress and let it drop to the floor, exposing Azzi’s lingerie. 

“Damn, you had that this whole time? You really are tryna kill me.”

“No, just trying to get you to fuck me.”

Azzi yanks Paige’s jacket off her and starts unbuttoning her top. At this point, Paige’s brain has short-circuited, and she is brought back to reality by the feeling of her back hitting the wall behind her and Azzi’s mouth on her neck. 

“Azzi,” Paige moans desperately as she grips at Azzi’s hips. Azzi responds with her hands, finding the back of Paige’s neck and tugging hard. She reattaches her lips to Paige’s throat, devouring her. Claiming her. 

“Oh my god, Az.”

Paige is breathless, yet desperate for more. She doesn’t care if she can’t breathe anymore. Not when she has Azzi like this. Paige starts to move her hand to the front of Azzi’s panties and cups her through the fabric. Azzi stutters her movements for just a moment before nipping and sucking at Paige’s neck and grinding down on her hand. Paige moved quickly to slip her hand under the band and towards her new place of worship. She breathes in with Azzi at the feeling and begins to slowly stroke from her entrance up to her clit. 

“Fuck, Paige,” Azzi whines, almost sounding frustrated by the pleasant interruption. 

“Hmm, you want me to fuck you, mama?” Paige teases, and she moves deeper into her entrance and back, not giving Azzi what she wants until she can hear her. When she hits just a little deeper, Azzi’s eyes roll to the back of her head, and she moans. Paige smiles like she just won a national championship, “I’ll happily fuck you, girlfriend.”

Azzi moans at the mention of their new relationship and rocks forward into Paige’s hand. Paige quiets her moans by kissing her and sucking on her tongue. When Azzi starts kissing her back, she moves from her mouth, kissing down her chin and along her jawline. Azzi is holding the back of her neck like her life depends on it. She is gripping so tightly that Paige is practically forced into her neck, and Paige takes full advantage. She licks and sucks at Azzi’s neck and sucks harder everytime Azzi’s hips roll forward with a strangled moan. 

The sounds are driving her, so she manages to push Azzi away just enough to descend to her breasts, stopping to appreciate the light purple bralette and swap positions so Azzi now has her back against the wall. 

“You’re so fuckin’ sexy.”

Paige’s lips move as if they’re possessed, and Azzi’s nails find home in her scalp, encouraging her to continue. Paige unclips the bra and rips it off as if it personally offended her and without warning sucks at Azzi’s hard nipple. Azzi grips Paige’s shoulder and gasps when she feels her tongue swirling and flicking at her nipple. Azzi sighs at the feeling, leaning back against the wall for support while Paige moves to appreciate her other breast. Looking down, she meets Paige’s deep blue eyes, filled with love and longing. It’s almost too much to handle, but Azzi has waited so long for this, to not hold it with everything she has. 

Paige is on a mission to kiss down Azzi’s body, desperate to taste her. The thought alone sends a jolt of heat down Paige’s core as she moans out Azzi’s name and pushes her harder into the wall. Before Paige can make it too far, Azzi grabs her head, tugging her back up for a messy kiss. A kiss filled with teeth colliding, ragged breaths, and desperate moans. Before Paige can register the shift in Azzi’s body, she is being pushed towards the bed, falling backwards, and borderline squealing in surprise. 

“I wanna remind you why you asked me to be your girlfriend in the first place, baby,” Azzi says as she unbuttons Paige’s slacks and rips them off her. Any opportunity for delicacy was left at the door the second Azzi saw Paige in this outfit. Suddenly, Paige’s mouth is consumed by Azzi’s tongue, and the feeling of Azzi’s thigh grinding into her at a rapid pace.  

Paige is so lost in the feeling of Azzi that she doesn't even notice her slowing her thrusts to slip her fingers into her boxers. Azzi doesn’t wait for Paige to get used to her fingers; she plunges two right into her entrance. Paige screams out Azzi’s name like a prayer, grasping at her shoulders to ground her.

“You’re so wet, P. That all for me?”

Paige tries to speak, she really does, but all she can manage to do is nod. But that’s not what Azzi wanted. She wants to hear her. She wants to be hers. 

“Tell me or I’m gonna pull out.”

“Fu-fuck, Az.”

Without warning, Azzi curls her fingers towards her, hitting the deep spongey part of Paige that makes the world stop. Paige tensed and her jaw stuck open, trying to catch a breath. She starts seeing stars at the feeling, and then Azzi presses down on her stomach and thrusts harder. 

“Fuck, Azzi!”

“Who’s it all for, baby?”

“You! It’s all for you! Please, Azzi, please.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Azzi moves her fingers out back towards her clit and lick.s up Paige’s neck. 

“I need—” Paige grabs her wrist, moves her hand back down to her entrance, and tries to speak again. “I need you so bad.”

Azzi doesn’t hesitate. She follows Paige’s lead and pushes her fingers back inside of her. “You need me like this, baby?” Azzi asks breathlessly in her ear. 

Paige rolls her hips up, making Azzi’s fingers hit even deeper, causing her eyes to roll to the back of her head. “More, please, fuck, more.”

“Anything for you, my love.” Azzi gently kisses her cheeks, completely opposite of how hard she's fingering the older girl. 

Paige tries to respond or even beg for more, but any words have been lost in the back of her throat, blocked by a loud moan. Maybe she can’t speak, but she can move. Paige moves her hand from Azzi’s waist to her front and slips her hand into her panties. 

Azzi gasps in surprise and then starts to grind into Paige’s hand. They can’t tell who’s making what noises anymore.

“Fuck, Azzi, I’m gonna come, fuck.” 

Azzi starts grinding harder in response. She feels herself going over the edge. She doesn’t know if she’s more desperate to make Paige come or finish herself. 

“Paige, I wanna feel you come so bad.”

That’s all it takes, and Paige arches her back, screaming Azzi’s name. When Paige starts trembling, it sends Azzi over the edge. The girls both finish grasping each other and yelling each other’s names. 

Azzi collapses on top of Paige breathlessly. They both try to catch their breath while they hold each other. 

“Wow,” Paige exhales.  

“Yeah, wow.”

“I still can’t believe we’ve waited this long to do that.”  

“So stupid of us, honestly.”

“I really love you, Az.”

“I love you, too, baby. So much.”

Azzi starts kissing all over Paige’s face, listing all the reasons she loves her. Azzi falls more in love with her as she giggles under the younger girl. They don’t exactly know what’s next or how they’ll deal with everything when they get home, but right now this is all they need.