#brick x jen

[heartlandians]

Heartland - 11x07 - Our Sons and Daughters

[yoongiseesawmp3]

too sweet - san

summary: model!san x designer!reader. it's love at first sight when you see san. he's perfect...for your runway show! he's the top model right now, and everyone wants him. you want him a little more, but we'll unpack that later. can you get the it boy into your collection?

word count: 8.6k

warnings: afab reader

masterlist

"how many more?" you whine, collapsing onto the table in front of you. your dramatics shuffle all of the model cards out of order after you spent the last hour organizing them. your system is ruined, so your mood goes too. the only thing to pull you back to reality is jen, your right hand man. she pulls you up, encouraging words on her lips, and gets to reordering the cards you just messed up.

"we only have a few more," she reminds you. "and the last few have been good! i think we'll have plenty of options for your show."

"yeah, the girls have been great," you agree. "but the guys are all meh. i thought i was being all forward thinking doing a coed collection but now i wish i hadn't."

"oh come on," jen nudges you. "these guys were hot!"

"they're pretty, but this guy tripped, this one didn't bring a portfolio, and this one has conflicts from now until the show," you list off. "i need at least two more, or i'll have to cut the men's pieces."

"we'll find one," jen ruffles your hair. "you want me to go bring in the next model?"

"nah, we've got a few more minutes on our break," you tell her. "i'm gonna go get a coffee, do you need anything?"

"a water is fine," she replies as you slip out the door. you try to avoid the waiting area so you won't run into any potential models. you make it to the coffee machine down the hall, and of course it's just your luck that there's a tall skinny man already there.

"y/n?" he smiles. "i didn't know this was your show!"

"seonghwa?" you smile back. "i swear, you get taller every time i see you."

"what can i say? i eat my wheaties," he jokes, pulling you in for a polite hug. "how long have you had this gig?"

"few months," you reply. "i've been shitting bricks the whole time."

"i'm sure," he nods. "but you're doing a great job. i've never seen this many top models in the same place for years. everyone wants to walk for you."

"well that's very flattering," you mumble. "but you'd think 'top models' would come more prepared. half of these bozos have not impressed me."

"she's talented and determined," seonghwa notes. "guess i gotta bring my a game."

"i guess you do," you tease him. "hey, you don't know anyone who could come audition before the end of the day, do you? i need more guys."

"i could make a few calls," he thinks. "what do you have in mind?"

"is it too vain to say someone sexy?" you laugh. "we're looking for someone intimidating, good walk, strong features. it's a dramatic piece so i want someone unique."

"i might know a guy," seonghwa nods.

"anyone i'd know?"

"i guess you'll know when you see him," he replies. "i gotta go, i think i'm next, so-"

"right, right, go make yourself pretty," you tell him. "it was so good to see you!"

"you too," he smiles at you genuinely. "proud of you."

"hey, no shmoozing before your audition."

-

seonghwa got a place in your show, obviously. now you only need one more guy. jen convinced you the tripper could work with some help, and there was another model from earlier in the day that you think deserves a call. you still need someone for your final piece, though, and you're running out of hope.

"so how do you know seonghwa again?" jen asks as you wait for the last model to show. "and how well do you know him? and how well would he like to know me?"

"we worked together a few years ago," you laugh. "he was one of the models in my first show."

"so you gave him his big break? he's indebted to you?" jen asks. "he has to make it up to you by, i don't know, going on a date with your best friend and best stylist?"

"we'll see," you frown. "you know i don't like messing with models."

"i hate that rule," jen mumbles as she sits back in her seat. "where's this last model? i wanna go home."

"seonghwa said he pulled a favor getting him here," you explain as you check your phone. "so he might be running behind. i can wait for him if you wanna go."

"no, if he's anything like seonghwa i want to be here to ogle him."

at that, there's a knock at the door, and you call out for them to come in. who steps through the door is maybe the most beautiful man you've ever seen. he's striking, strong, and smiling shyly like he's not used to having eyes on him despite his profession.

"hi, i hope i'm not too late?" he asks, standing by the door.

"no," you quickly reply. "not at all, come in. you're seonghwa's friend?"

"yep," he confirms, walking up to hand you the most professional looking portfolio you've seen all day. and this guy wasn't even expecting to walk! no way you're hiring those other losers now. "i'm san."

"san, hi," you smile at him, and jen stifles a laugh next to you. somebody's smitten, she thinks, but she won't say anything just yet. "i'm y/n, i'm the designer, and this is jen, my stylist."

"nice to meet you," jen presents her hand, and san tentatively shakes it. "firm handshake, i like it. you have soft hands."

"thanks?" he laughs nervously. "um, so do i just-"

"yes, yes," you motion for him to head to the back of the room. "whenever you're ready."

as if you weren't already convinced this was the guy for you (i mean, for your show) then his walk sold it. his presence is so commanding, his movements so precise, and you've never seen someone with such perfect posture. it makes you sit up straighter as he walks toward you, and you almost swoon when he winks at you before turning around. you squeeze jen's hand under the table, and when san finishes his walk you fight the urge to applaud.

"that was great!" jen comments once san is finished. "y/n, what did you think?"

"you're perfect," you breathe out, and jen nudging you brings you back to earth. "uh, for the collection."

"thanks," san smiles proudly. "hopefully i'll hear from you soon."

"hopefully you will," you smile back. "thanks for coming on such short notice."

"it was my pleasure," san says, waving as he ducks out into the hall. as soon as the door is shut, you turn to jen and say, "i love him."

"i know you do," she laughs. "so is he in the show?"

"in the show?" you scoff. "he is the show. he's exactly what i was imagining. i want ten more of him."

"i'm sure you'd like that," she says with a waggle of her eyebrows.

"stop," you roll your eyes. "i just said i don't mess with models."

"mhm," jen nods. "so who else are we casting? we have one spot for sure..."

-

san and seonghwa were cast immediately. well, maybe not immediately. you both looked through their portfolios, ooh'ing and aah'ing over their looks before deciding they had to be in the show. when you and jen decided on the next two male models quickly, you figured this would be an easy discussion. wrong! you have four female models you're willing to fight tooth and nail for, and jen has her own four that she's just as committed to. you've been deliberating for a while now, so you decide to take a break. you head to that same break room you met seonghwa in earlier, and you thought briefly about taking san's portfolio with you. for research purposes, obviously, but you decided against it.

as soon as you step into the hallway, you hear faint sounds of music. not unusual for this studio space, but still, you proceed with caution. you don't want to interrupt anybody, so you walk quietly until you find the the source of the sound. it's san! and he's...dancing?

"oh god, sorry," he bumbles as soon as he sees you. he rushes to his phone, propped against the window in front of him. "god. that's embarrassing."

"what were you doing?" you smile at him.

"embarrassing myself," he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. he wiggles his phone in the air and explains, "my agent wants me to post more, says it'll help me get booked, and he sent me a couple tiktok trends he wants me to do. so i was.."

"dancin' your heart out?" you tease, and he blushes.

"you could say that," he smiles shyly, again making it seem like he's not used to having attention on him. does he know he's a model?

"wait, how long have you been out here?" you ask, worried he might have heard you and jen (mostly you) gawking over his portfolio.

"just a few minutes," he shrugs. "part of why i was able to come walk for you is because of another audition i had on the other side of this building. so i was over there for a while, and came back here to humiliate myself in front of my favorite designer, it seems."

"your favorite, huh?" you ask. "good thing we've cast my show already, otherwise i'd think you're sucking up."

"damn, so i'm too late?" san laughs.

"who else is auditioning models here?" you change the subject.

"kim hongjoong?" san says it like a question, and you nod in recognition.

"he's good," you hum. "i hope you don't get it though."

"what?" san balks. "why?"

"because i want you in my show," you shrug. "and i don't wanna fight hongjoong for you, even though i know i'd win."

"you sure about that?" san asks. "he's been working out, i hear."

"oh i could so take him," you assure san. "i'm a biter." you notice a flicker in san's eyes, a hint of something, but you feel yourself blushing and cough so you have an excuse to cover your face. "excuse me. i should probably go, we've got a few more models to cast.."

"wait, so you just drop the bomb that i'm in your show and then you're gone?" san asks, following you down the hall. "how do i know you're serious?"

"because you have my word," you furrow your eyebrows. "but if you really need the confirmation, i'm sure my people will call your people soon." as if on cue, san's phone starts buzzing, still perched on the window. san looks to it, then you. you feel vindicated as you turn and walk on to the break room with a flick of your hair over your shoulder, leaving a stunned model and the smell of peaches in your wake.

-

all the models have been cast, and it's the morning of your first fitting. you slept in your studio last night because you had so much work to do. it was mostly tiny alterations to ensure the pieces fit their new models, but you also spent half the night cleaning. you don't let people into your studio usually, or if you do, it's people that know you well enough to know you and your work are a mess. but today, you're the boss. you need to look put together, and so does your studio.

you're standing by the door, taking everything in, and decide that this is as clean as you'll get it. there's still fabric, zippers, stray threads strewn all over your work tables, but you're a designer. that's normal. if the models have complaints they can deal. being next to the door, you hear something in the hall, but write it off as one of your artistic neighbors at work. you start to walk away, toward your coffee station in the back, when the doorknob to your studio jiggles. you hear a quiet "shit" and then a polite knock, so you walk over cautiously. one look through the peephole reveals who it is.

"san?" you ask, opening the door. "what are you doing here?"

"realizing i am," he checks his ridiculously expensive watch, "an hour early for my fitting. sorry." he adds a sheepish smile at the end and you fight the urge to coo. he looks like he just woke up, and that he definitely rushed here. his clothes are mussed, hair in a beanie to hide it not being done, eyes puffy with sleep. still, he looks perfect.

"was the email confusing?" you ask. "i was worried that-"

"no," he shakes his head. "no, i was just, um, i'm really excited," he explains shyly. "i almost couldn't sleep last night, so when i woke up this morning i thought i had overslept. i should've checked."

"no worries," you say as you blush. he was excited? for a fitting? man must love his job. "here, come in. i just finished cleaning, so you get first dibs on space. there's a couch in the back if you want to nap before we get started."

"how long have you been here?" san asks, looking around at the studio. he sees a lot of chaos, but it's beautiful chaos. colors that compliment each other perfectly, strange techniques that have made something stunning. he can't believe he'll be part of this show.

"uh, since last night," you admit, finally reaching your coffee machine. "i had a lot to do."

"you slept here?" san frowns, tossing his stuff onto a table before joining you. he leans against the wall as he watches you.

"yeah," you shrug. "i hate waking up early, so it saved me from getting here grumpy if anything."

"but did you rest?" he asks, looking out at the studio. "this is a big space for one person to clean."

"jen helped," you tell him. "she was here last night to bring over the shoes for each outfit."

"which one is mine?" san asks with an eager smile.

"wouldn't you like to know?" you stick your tongue out at him for good measure. "yours isn't out here. it's so big i had to keep it in my office, i couldn't move it out here by myself."

"it's big?" he looks a little scared.

"that may not be the right word," you think. "it's heavy, so that's why i needed someone strong to wear it."

"you think i'm strong?" san smirks, and you blush. "how'd you know?"

your mind thinks to his portfolio still sitting on your desk, full to the brim of him in scantily clad photoshoots. you've seen pictures of his chest, his abs, his arms. muscles that had to take hours in the gym to sculpt. you wonder shyly if his portfolio is still on your desk, open to a picture of him in a pink outfit with a hint of his chest on display. you'll have to cover it quickly if it is.

"i asked seonghwa how you two met, and he said you go to the same snooty model gym," you explain, which is the truth. seonghwa had been in a couple shows with san before they became friends, but it took the two of them working out together to actually become buddies. they've been looking out for each other ever since, seonghwa told you. san seems to think your explanation was enough, so he hums and nods before turning his attention back to your collection.

"so how did you and seonghwa meet?" he asks casually. you tell him about your first show, as an independent designer no less, and how seonghwa found you stress crying backstage. as you always do when describing seonghwa, you stress how your relationship was friendly, but nothing more. you never want anyone to think you're fooling around with one of your models. but san finds himself thinking, hm, that means seonghwa isn't his competition.

"do you want anything to drink?" your voice pulling san from his thoughts. he looks at you, cupping a warm mug of coffee, and smiles.

"no, thank you," he says. "i try not to have anything before a fitting, i never want to mess up the sizing and put more work on the designer."

"san that doesn't sound healthy," you frown. "and what kind of designer is sticking you in clothes so skin tight you can't have a glass of water? i need names."

"it's a lot of them, i'm afraid," he laughs. "most people cast me expecting to show off my abs, or something else, so i don't have much space to mess up during show season."

"yeah, you are always showing some kind of skin," you think about it.

"you been studying me?" san teases, and you blush.

"i'm a designer, it's my job," you mumble. "i reviewed everyone's portfolio thoroughly."

"what was seonghwa's last shoot then?" san quizzes you. you make a guess, but you get it wrong. "and what was mine?"

"vogue, right?" you answer immediately, and san responds with a shit eating grin.

"i'm so telling hwa i'm your favorite model now," he says, resting against the wall again as he folds his arms over his chest. his very muscled arms, and his broad-

"knock knock!" jen shouts from the door. she steps inside and asks, "you know you didn't lock this- oh hey san."

"good morning," he nods to her. "nice to see you again."

"nice to see you too, so bright and early," jen says as she looks at you. "how long have we been here?"

"me since last night, san since a few minutes ago. he didn't read the email."

"i read the email!" he whines. "i was just excited!"

"that's sweet," jen coos as she dumps bags onto one of your worktables. "i hope i'm not interrupting anything?"

"jen, do you have a favorite model?" san asks, and she thinks for a moment.

"no, i don't," she shakes her head. "there's too many good ones, so it depends on the day. why do you ask?"

"i just found out i'm y/n's favorite," san explains with a smile.

"you just found out?" jen laughs, and you groan. san looks like he's gonna say something else but you speak before he can.

"hey, since y'all are both here, come help me move this table," you command. "we need space for the models to walk." they do as you say, but share a knowing look while you're distracted. it's a bad thing to have your best friend and your crush in cahoots, but you'll figure that out later.

-

since san was here early, you got to work on his fitting first. jen finished setting up the workroom while you and san went to your office. jen made a show of putting headphones in to listen to music, and you wanted to pinch her so hard. she's making it obvious that you have a thing for san, and you're hoping beyond hope he doesn't notice.

"oh my god," he whispers when you open the door to your office, revealing the piece you've dedicated the past few months to. "that's incredible."

"you like it?" you turn to him, unsure. "it's a lot, i know."

"i love it," he smiles from ear to ear. "i've never worn something like this before."

"i hope no one has," you laugh nervously. "i tried a technique to emulate fur, so i'm hoping this is a super cool fashion innovation that'll take the industry by storm."

"how'd you do it?" san asks, looking at the piece in awe. "and how long did it take?"

"so, i shredded pounds and pounds of natural fabric until it looked so fine it could be a better alternative to faux fur," you explain. "and it took me about...four months?" san whistles lowly, his hands twitching at his sides. "you can touch it if you want."

"i want to put it on," he turns to you excitedly. "how do you want me to wear it?"

"don't hate me," you beg. "since this is such a big piece, and i want it to draw attention, i don't have a shirt for you."

"that's ok," san nods. "adds to the natural element."

"exactly," you smile, blushing anyway. "and there's just white pants underneath, for contrast. they should be super comfy, to make up for the workout you'll get walking around in the jacket."

"i can't wait," san says happily. he turns to you fully, looking between the outfit and you. "do you want me to strip, or...?"

"oh god, let me turn around," you say. "the pants are on the desk. let me know when you have them on."

"you're very polite," san chuckles. "most designers try to manage every single thing, including how models get dressed."

"it's pants," you scoff. "if you can't put pants on how did you get out the house?"

"i'm ready," he says, and you turn back to find him in the pants, yes, but still with his shirt on.

"um, do you mind?" you ask, tugging at the neckline of your own shirt hoping he gets the hint. it distracts him just enough that you have to call his name, and he looks at you with a hum. "can you, uh, take your shirt off?" he responds with actions, pulling his shirt off in one swift motion. you squeak out, "great!" and then shuffle toward the mannequin. "i might need help lifting this."

"no worries," he hurries to your aid, his hands brushing yours as you push the jacket off the form. "wow, this is no joke."

"if it's too heavy i can-"

"i can handle it," san says firmly. "help me into it?"

you hold up one side while san slips his arm in, and then help him into the rest. you take a step closer, trying to fasten the clasp on the front, but it won't meet. you struggle for a minute, hands ghosting so softly over san's chest. he doesn't realize he's holding his breath until your voice pulls him from his focus.

"what?" he looks down at you. "why are you frowning? it looks great."

"it doesn't fit over your chest," you pout. "i thought i had your measurements right-"

"oh, sorry, i've been working out," san admits. "and i think i gave you an old portfolio since i was in a rush, so my information may not be up to date..."

"shit," you mumble, and san tries to fix the situation. he starts tugging at the jacket, but you gasp and grab his hands, stilling them instantly. you look at him sternly as you instruct, "i'll make it fit, you just have to wear it. please don't do my job for me."

"sorry," san whispers. you're so close he could just lean down and kiss that pout from your lips, but that wouldn't be professional of him. but boy does he want to.

"before you take it off, let me find your shoes," you look around. "i want to see the whole look together...maybe jen knows where they are."

you open your office door and peek your head out, gasping at what you find. jen is pushed up against one of your work tables, and seonghwa is standing before her holding her waist like she could slip away at any moment. they're making out like they've done this before, and you clear your throat to get their attention.

"hi," seonghwa mewls. "this isn't what it looks like."

"looks like two of my employees are goofing off when they should be doing their jobs," you mumble, wandering around the studio. "jen, where are san's shoes?"

"um, by the door?" she guesses. "i didn't see his outfit in here, so i didn't know where to put them."

"it's in my office," you respond. "that's why i took him in there."

"i didn't know," she shrugs. you find the shoes and then glare at them, but neither one takes you seriously.

"seonghwa, your outfit is labeled with your name. it's an easy piece, simple closures, so you shouldn't need any help getting it on," you explain. "jen, come here. we have a problem."

"holy shit, you look awesome," jen says as soon as she sees san. she looks at you and asks, "what's wrong with it?"

"his chest is too broad," you frown again, staring at san's chest. "i can't get the jacket to close."

"he can't hold it when he walks?" jen suggests, and san tries it out. you start shaking your head before he finishes, and he actually whines when he sees your reaction.

"no, it's gonna fall off your shoulders if you do that," you say. "i want it to stay in place, and i need the clasp to work for that to happen."

"so what are you gonna do?" jen asks.

"not sleep until i fix it?" you reply. you look at her in defeat and add, "i don't know what else i can do."

"can i help?" san offers, but you shake your head again as jen says, "yes, you can." you try to protest, but she cuts you off.

"he can cut the initial shreds!" she offers. "then you do your magic putting them into the jacket. it takes out a step for you so hopefully it'll be quicker."

"what she said," san butts in. "let me help, please."

"i can't pay you for your extra time," you say softly. "i don't want to impose-"

"don't care," san shakes his head. "i've got nothing else going on."

"perfect!" jen claps her hands together. "you two figure that out, i'm gonna check on hwa..."

-

the rest of the fitting goes well. it's perfect, actually. you have the best models you've ever worked with, every piece fits, and the collection looks beautiful all together. you tear up watching them all walk before you, and the piece san is wearing literally makes a hush fall over the room. he still walks toward you with a wink, but this time it doesn't affect you as much. you're too focused on how much time it'll take to add a couple more inches to the coat. when san finishes, everyone looks to you expectantly, and it takes jen calling your name for your mind to catch up with your mouth.

"i don't know what to say," you admit. "you all did an amazing job, and this was just a fitting! imagine what this show will look like on a real stage. um, a couple things to note..."

once you finish your boss spiel, the models all start changing and leave one by one. you make sure to thank them all before they leave, and in a few minutes it's just you, jen, and san left.

"seonghwa didn't wanna stick around?" you ask jen.

"you scared him," she replies. "he left so fast i'm surprised he didn't leave a trail of smoke."

"i'll talk to him," you brush it off. "keep your paws off him in my studio though."

"no promises," jen sighs, gathering her things. "i need to go get another pair of heels for our tall girl, so do you need anything else from me before i go?"

"a hug?" you think. "i couldn't have done this without you."

"she loves me!" jen says to san, and he smiles encouragingly.

"you two are amazing," san says. "i don't know how just two people put together such a stunning show."

"lots of work," you say.

"i cried a few times," jen adds.

"we both did," you conclude. "but it was fun, so it was worth it. right?"

"fun, sure!" jen agrees.

"get out of here," you push her playfully. "please rest. no boys."

"you too," jen wags her finger at you. then to san, "don't let her work too hard!"

"i'll try my best," he salutes her, and jen leaves with a laugh. he turns to you and asks, "what can i help with?"

"i need to buy more fabric," you think. "so if you want to grab food while i-"

"no, we'll both grab food, and then fabric," san decides. "or fabric then food. either way, i'm buying your lunch."

"but-"

"nope," he pulls you into his side and walks toward the door. "can't work hard on an empty stomach!"

-

you find yourself enjoying san's company more than you were expecting. he's easy to talk to, easy to laugh with, and he's so kind. he insisted on buying your lunch, even though that was going to be your payment to him for helping. he even tried to buy the extra fabric, claiming it's his fault you had to buy more anyway. you get back to your studio, smiles on both your faces, and get to work.

"so we need these in strips about an inch wide," you explain as you lay a few yards of fabric out on a work table. "tear them into strips, then we'll cut them in half, and then i can start shredding and adding them to the coat. sound good?"

"got it, captain," san nods. "how many do you need?"

"i don't know yet," you make a face. "you're a big guy."

"i'm just so strong," san rolls his eyes, flexing a little bit as he does.

"stop that," you laugh. "get to work. you want music on?"

"yeah, whatever you wanna listen to," san says as he straightens the fabric. you watch as he measures carefully, taking the fabric cutter over the material slowly. he holds up his first strip, looking to you for approval. "is this good?"

"perfect," you tell him. "now make like a thousand more."

"what are you gonna do while i work, hm?" san asks. "i've got a lot to do and you're just gonna watch me?"

"gotta make sure you're doing it right," you reply. "but i need to pack up some of these other pieces, they're getting shipped to the venue in the morning. my least favorite part of the job."

"how many shows have you done now?" san asks, and you fall into comfortable conversation with him while you work. you get most of the collection packed up before you know it, so you walk over to his table to check on his progress.

"not bad for a model," you say as you inspect the pieces. "you could make a mean designer's assistant."

"you in the market for one?" san asks, and you notice how close you are. he's a little taller than you, so all you'd have to do is stand on your toes and- "what are you thinking about?"

"what?" you whisper, taking a step back. san's hand catches your waist, holding you in place.

"what were you thinking about, just now?" he asks again. "you were staring."

"you're a model, i'd expect you'd be used to everyone staring at you," you whisper back.

"you're not everyone," he says softly. his eyes flit down to your lips, and before you can think you lean in and kiss him. it's quick, barely a touch, but you kissed him, and his hand on your waist tightens. when you look up at him, he's blushing. "what was that for?"

"um, for helping me with your outfit?" you reply.

"anything else you need my help with?" san smirks.

"san, i'm sorry, i shouldn't have done that," you whisper.

"yeah, you pulled back too quickly," he pouts.

"no," you laugh shyly. "no, um, i have a rule that i don't mess around with my models."

"got it," san sighs. "bummer, but i understand."

"i should start shredding these," you say, grabbing a pile of fabric. san's still holding onto you though, so you look at him expectantly. "you gonna let me go?"

"you don't mess with models, ever?" san asks. "or is it just models that are working for you?"

"um, the second one," you think. "but san-"

"then we'll talk about this again when the show is over," san says with finality. "i don't mind waiting."

"as long as you can keep things professional," you tell him.

"says the one who kissed me," san teases.

"whatever," you roll your eyes. "i'm gonna go work on the jacket."

"um, do you think these are enough strips for now?" san asks sheepishly. "i actually have to leave for an audition..."

"my god," you look at the time. "please, go. i'm sorry i kept you for so long."

"i'll come back when i'm done," san says like it's nothing. "i don't really want this show anyway, but my agent booked it, so i have to go."

"that's good to hear," you mumble. "because i don't like sharing."

"make sure you take a break while i'm gone," san points at you accusingly.

"go to your audition," you say as you walk to your office. "i'll be here when you get back."

-

san thinks about you the whole time he's gone. he breezes through the audition and gets an offer before he leaves, but after being in your show this designer seems scattered, unprofessional, and just not as good as you. his collection is fine, but it's nothing impressive. san can't wait to get back to your studio and see the progress on your coat, but when he knocks at the door there's no response. he waits, tries again, and still nothing. he tries the door and it opens easily, so san wanders in calling out your name. he doesn't see you in the work room, but there's a light on in your office.

"y/n?" he calls, stopping at the door when he sees you slumped over your desk, snoring softly. he looks at the mannequin next to you and lets out a gasp. it's more dramatic now with more fabric, and san thinks briefly it'll be even heavier to wear. he doesn't care though. right now, he's more concerned about getting you to someplace you can rest.

"you're back," you mumble, sitting up as you rub your eyes. "i fell asleep."

"i see that," san chuckles. he walks over to you and holds his arms out. "come on, we gotta get you home."

"what are you doing?" you ask, letting out a shriek when san picks you up. you hit his back weakly, but he carries you out of your office, through your studio, turning lights off as he goes.

"where's your bag?" san asks. you point and he carries you still, handing your things to you before doing a sweep of the studio. "ready to go?"

"where are we going?" you mumble into his shoulder. "i was sleeping just fine-"

"i'm taking you home," san says. "you need to sleep in a bed. not hunched over your desk."

"why are you being so nice to me?" you whisper as you nuzzle into him further. he doesn't reply, but you wouldn't hear it anyway. you drift off in his arms, only waking up when san slides you into the passenger seat of his car.

"you know how to get home from here, sleepyhead?" san asks as he ruffles your hair. you type your address into your phone, handing it to him before he closes the door carefully to rush to the driver's side. he laughs nervously when he sits down and finds you staring, so he asks, "what? too much?"

"i really want to kiss you again," you admit.

"but you can't," san coos. "remember your silly rules?"

"hmph, i was gonna say screw my rules, but then you made fun of me, so-"

"no, no i take it back!" san cries, but you turn and lay your head against the window. you smile to yourself as san begs you to turn back around, giggling as he tugs on your arm. you pretend to snore and san gives up, but his hand has moved from tugging your arm to just holding your hand. you stay like that the whole way home.

-

the runway show is tomorrow. you still aren't done with san's jacket. and you still aren't sure what to do since you kissed him. jen has ideas, though.

"climb him like a tree," she tells you for the nth time as she helps you unpack outfits at the venue. "he sooo wants you. and you sooo want him."

"doesn't matter who wants who," you mumble as you try to hold at least three pins by your teeth. you're securing a new zipper to your favorite dress. it wouldn't be a runway show without things falling apart last minute, and you could have punched a wall when you unpacked this dress to find the zipper literally holding on by a thread.

"the show is tomorrow, y/n," jen says sternly. "you can't hide behind your silly 'no models' rule for much longer."

"i won't," you assure her. she looks at you surprised, but she can't ask any follow ups because there are voices coming from the entrance.

"hello?" seonghwa calls out. you yell back that you're backstage, and when he appears he immediately finds jen to pull her into a hug.

"what are you doing here?" you ask him. "you don't have a fitting today."

"i brought him for moral support," san says from behind you. he's so close, and you didn't hear him come up, so it makes you jump. his hands fly to your waist, trying to soothe you, but the touch makes you jump too. "why are you so skittish?"

"i'm stressed," you respond, stepping away so you can find his coat. you look over your shoulder as you tell him, "the jacket still isn't done."

"what?" he whines. "do i need to tear more fabric?"

"no," you laugh. "just come here." he joins you further among the mess that is your collection, following closely behind you through the maze of clothing racks. you stop by his mannequin, turning to find him still incredibly close to you. "it just needs a clasp. as long as you didn't get broader over night."

"no promises," he smirks before pulling his shirt off. "can you help me get it on?"

"you've never needed my help before," you frown as you try avoid staring at his chest.

"yeah well, it's like ten pounds heavier now," san says. "and i'm just so weak..."

"bullshit," you laugh, helping him lift the coat anyway. you hold one side for him while he slips his arm in, then help him hold onto the other. "ok, stay here." you scurry off to get your sewing kit, and san finds jen's gaze through the clothes. she gives him a thumbs up and an exaggerated wink, and he stifles a laugh as you come back. you're holding more pins between your teeth, and san cries out. "what?"

"that can't be safe," he says as he reaches for one, but ends up pricking himself. "ouch."

"no touching," you mumble. "and hold the jacket like this." you guide his hands to hold the coat in place, and san watches intently as you work. you have to hand sew extra buttons on to support the new weight, so it takes a while. san tries to talk to you, but he's so worried about the pins in your mouth he can't focus.

"let me hold these," he grumbles, carefully pulling a pin from your lips. he takes the rest and cups them in his hand, accidentally pricking himself again. "ouch."

"that's what you get," you laugh. "you didn't have to hold them for me, i'm an expert at this by now."

"yeah, but if you had pins in your mouth, i couldn't do this," san says as he uses his free hand to cup your chin. he looks down at you with a smile before he kisses you. he kisses you and holds you against him, his lips so soft on yours. you sigh into the kiss, lost in the feeling of having him so close to you. you can feel his heart beating in his chest, and your hand that had been gripping the coat falls to his warm skin. you push him away, a little gasp on your lips when it hits you what's happened.

"what happened to being ok with waiting?" you ask him, and his head falls to your neck, leaving one kiss against your skin before he pulls back.

"i forgot," he whispers.

"well remember at least until i finish these buttons," you tell him.

"and then what?"

"then you gotta show me your walk," you say. the way you look up at him makes san want to kiss you again, but he does his best to refrain. you hold your hand out for the pins, and you put them back in your sewing kit as you say, "in a few minutes, your coat will finally be done."

"can't wait," san hums, his hands back to holding the jacket in place. "but i admit i'll miss having a reason for you to be so close to me."

"i'm sure you'll find more," you mumble, focusing on the last button. when it's sturdy enough to hold weight, you try securing the jacket together just enough for it to stay on san's shoulders. "hands off," you instruct, and san moves his hands from the coat to your shoulders. "hands to yourself."

"aw," he pouts. you start to walk away and he follows, but you tell him to stay put.

"stay there, then walk toward me," you direct him. "i wanna see how it moves now."

"you want me to go full model mode?" san asks. "can you handle it?"

"just show me," you groan, and the cocky grin on san's face should've warned you. it's like he changes into another person, his demeanor completely different. you realize now that the san you know is not model san, because the man before you is...intimidating? you almost back up as he walks toward you, his gait powerful and his stare petrifying. everything is so dramatic and the movement matches the coat perfectly. he still winks at you as he comes closer and turns, moving the coat so each layer of fabric, each shred explodes into an arc before you. san finishes his walk, turning over his shoulder with a shy smile on his face. he's back to the san you know as he asks, "how was that?"

"you're perfect," you stammer out, mimicking your words from the first time san walked for you. "for the collection. for this piece. everything. this is exactly what i imagined."

"good," his smile widens. "and the weight isn't too bad. it's distributed better now."

"good," you cough, trying to calm yourself down. watching that made everything real to you. this show is happening tomorrow. your nerves are hitting you now, and san can tell.

"are you ok?" he asks, rushing to your aide. he looks like he's going to pull you into a hug when you hear jen calling for you somewhere, and you disappear before san gets a chance.

-

the hours leading up to the show are a blur. in the hours leading up to the show, you are a blur. you don't stay still for more than a few minutes at a time. there's just so much for you to do, so many people to talk to, and so many people that need your help. a stylist asking your opinion. a model with loose threads down her back. a man with pleading eyes that you know is watching you from afar, ready to jump in if you collapse from nerves, or exhaustion, or both. you find jen at the accessories table, helping a model find bangles that won't fall off her arm as she walks. you grab onto jen, leaning in closely to rest your head against hers.

"i'm so tired," you whine. "and scared. and sweaty."

"ew, then get off me," jen pushes you away playfully. she finishes up with the model and sends her away before asking, "are you ok though? really?"

"why did i think dressing san without a shirt would be a good idea?" you whisper to her, watching him as he laughs with seonghwa about something. it's like he can feel your eyes on him, because he looks toward you and winks.

"because it is a good idea," jen says. "and he's not gonna be shirtless for long. you need to go help him into the coat, the show's about to start."

"shit," you curse, checking the time. "i have so much to do-"

"wait!" jen shouts, holding you in place. "something's missing."

"my will to go on?"

"no, you need lipstick," jen decides. she digs into the bag at her hip and finds the perfect pink shade for you. it matches your dress (that you designed) and it matches the warm pinks that you sprinkled into the collection. "there. you're ready."

"no i'm not," you mumble. "i didn't get to practice my welcome speech."

"go practice it with san!" jen pushes you in his direction. "five minutes!"

your palms get sweaty the closer you get to san. you're not sure if it's him, or the running countdown in your head reminding you that your show is about to happen. when you finally make it to san, he's alone, and he's smiling at you nervously.

"time for the coat?" he asks. you nod, and he follows you to the mannequin in the back. "how do you feel?"

"like i'm gonna pass out."

"i'll catch you," san jokes.

"arms up please," you squeak out. he helps you lift the coat silently, sliding into it like it's the most comfortable thing in the world. "and just let me secure it..."

"y/n," san whispers. "look at me." you don't listen, fussing over the buttons instead. you're smoothing out the warm pink fabric as san's hands cover yours, stilling them over his chest. "breathe for a second."

"i'm freaking out," you admit, looking up at him. "i have to go out there, and do a speech, and then watch my clothes, my life for the past year, all be judged by these strangers, and-"

"and you've done it before, and you survived," san smiles softly. "you're pretty great at this, in case you didn't know."

"but-"

"nope," he shakes his head. "it'll be great."

"it will," you say unsurely.

"say it like you mean it."

"the show will be great," you declare, and san squeezes your hands before he lets them go.

"and then after the show..." san trails off, and you feel your heart start to race. "i don't know, maybe i could take you out to celebrate?"

"san, i can't think about that right now," you shake your head. "i can't-"

the stage manager starts calling out models for the line up, and san looks away sadly. he nods like he's got his answer and starts to walk away, but you pull him back. you don't say anything, just cup his chin and leave a delicate kiss on his cheek.

"we'll talk after the show," you whisper. the stage manager calls for him again, and he looks at you one more time before he leaves. you let out a nervous breath, checking your reflection in the vanity next to you. it's now or never. you walk up to the side of the stage, and your heart drops to your ass. something is wrong.

"what's going on?" you hiss, walking up to find make up artists swarming san. "this can't be happening."

"you did this," one of the artists whisper shouts back, pointing to san's cheek. fuck. the lipstick. your lipstick left a bright pink mark on his skin. "we don't have time to fix it!"

"then don't," san shrugs. "i like it."

"y/n?" the stage manager looks at you. "we have one minute. are we fixing this?"

"uh, n-no," you stammer, and the crowd disperses, leaving you and san again. "here, i can wipe it-"

"don't," san swats your hands away. "now i'll have a piece of you with me while i walk."

"you're wearing my clothes, you already had a piece of me with you," you tell him.

"yeah, but this one's just for me," he smiles. "plus the lipstick matches my jacket."

"y/n, you're on!" jen grabs you, a gleeful look on her face. "oh, your lipstick is smudged."

"i don't know how you planned that, but i hate you for it," you say as you try to hide your smile.

"i just thought it would be a cute touch for photos later," she smiles as she fixes the smudge and reapplies more. "i didn't know you'd go around kissing him, marking your territory."

"that's not what i did," you blush.

"we don't have time to argue about this," she pushes you toward the stage entrance. "go be great!"

-

you're able to introduce the collection without tripping or fumbling over your words, so you'll call that a win. even bigger win: the collection is a hit. each piece got the reaction you wanted, but the show stopper was definitely san. the crowd hushed when he walked out, and they went wild when he got to the end of the runway with his flourish move he showed you the other night. as you watch the show backstage, you blush when you see the lipstick mark shining under the bright lights.

it ends up being a hit, almost as much as the coat itself. fashion bloggers lauded it as a perfect touch, basically sealing the collection with a kiss. they also speculated about your relationship with san, which certainly wasn't helped by the fact that he held your hand tightly in his as the collection walked the runway all together. san lifted your hand in triumph as you made it to the end of the stage, and he lets go, stepping back so you can have your moment. you soak it in as long as you can take, then scurry back to his side and grab his hand as you run backstage. he lifts you into a hug as soon as the curtain closes behind you, surrounded by cheers and models talking about how great the show was.

"put me down!" you squeal, swatting at san's chest so he'll let you go. "i need to talk to everybody."

"you can do it from up there," san says. you don't think you'll win this one, and he's right. it might be easier to address your models and your team from a few inches higher up.

"first of all, thank you," you say sincerely. "i wouldn't have a show without you all, and i had the best show because of you all. so thank you. if i could make you all vow to only ever work with me forever until the end of time, i would, but that's not ethical. so instead i'll say: you all have a spot in any show i do for the rest of my career. thank you. thankyouthankyouthankyou."

the crowd thins out as models get undressed, artists pack up their things, and the stage crew follows everyone around to remind them to clean up after themselves. miraculously, you and san are alone again.

"so," he hums. "i walked good?"

"you didn't trip," you nod.

"everyone loved it," san smiles.

"they loved you," you say, busying yourself with straightening the coat again.

"all i care about is what you thought."

"i've told you already," you start. "you're perfect."

"you say that, but earlier i think you were about to turn me down," san laughs nervously.

"what?" you're confused. "oh, i didn't finish. i was gonna say i can't go out with you tonight, but i'm free tomorrow."

"tomorrow? you'd make me wait so long?" san smirks.

"i have a business dinner to go to tonight," you explain. "so unless you wanna be my arm candy for the people who sponsored the show, then yes, you have to wait so long."

"i'm good at being arm candy," san says. "it's basically my job."

"fine," you shrug. "then put a shirt on and come with me?"

[barcaatthemoon]

Hii could you do a blurb with Jen Beattie maybe “Are you okay?” “I am now” up to youuu<333

brick wall || jen beattie x reader ||

growing up in an athletic family, you were no stranger to strong people. a few of the sports you had played growing up had girls that were well over six feet tall. still, you had not fully been prepared for what it was like living with one of them. jen was an absolute unit with her height and strength.

that had been one of the things that drew you to her. jen was sweet and had a story that you never tired listening to. one minute, she could be trying to cuddle with you while you made your morning coffee, and the next, she was throwing you over her shoulder to carry you into the bedroom. she kept you on your toes, even if she was also occasionally knocking you off of your feet.

"oh my god, i am so sorry. are you okay?" jen asked as she scooped you up. she had knocked into you on accident, having been chasing your new puppy around the little backyard area of your house. jen had knocked you clean off of your feet, but was now holding you bridal style like superman holding lois lane.

"i am now," you told her. jen let out a sigh of relief as she kissed your forehead. she didn't let you go, instead carrying you all the way inside and into the kitchen. "jen, i was on the ground for two seconds. i'm fine, really."

"i don't know about that. i can see a red spot, let me just get you an ice pack," jen said. she busied herself trying to attend to you, despite the fact that you didn't need any attention. jen was completely focused on you until she felt a small head connect with her calf several times. "i'll be back out to play in a minute buddy, i promise. i've got to take care of your mom."

"bastion, go lay down," you said firmly. the puppy left the two of you and laid down on his bed in the living room. "what good is looking so intimidating when you're such a softie?"

"throwing the world off of your true nature," jen joked. you pinched her as she moved in to set the ice pack on your shoulder. jen let out a yelp and pouted at you. you tried to move past her, but she caged you in until you kissed the spot better.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Kid II

Arsenal Women x Teen!Reader

Summary: You get injured during the derby against Chelsea

To be honest, getting injured was the worst thing that had ever happened to you.

It wasn't even a big injury but the embarrassment was enough to make you want to crawl into a hole and die.

"Oh, shit," You swore, clutching at the side of your face as pain radiated through your entire head.

Chelsea's Millie Bright, the player you had collided with, looked down at you in horror. "You doing alright, l/n?"

"No." You voice came out nasally and you refused to move your hand, laying on your back. "Ow."

"We're gonna need medics over here!" Bright turned her attention fully onto you, trying to pry your hand away. "Let me see."

"No." It was bad enough you got injured during a derby match, even worse as one of the greatest brick walls in the game tried to inspect your injuries. It was frankly embarrassing.

"Come on," She said again," Let me just check you over. That's a lot of blood."

"She said no, Bright." Katie appeared out of nowhere, shoving Bright back with a sneer before crouching over you. "Let me see, kid."

"What happened to me saying no?"

"No concussion then," She shot back," If you're crackin' jokes like that. Bright's right though, awful lot of blood."

When you finally moved your bloodstained hand from your face, Alessia and Vic had arrived with a medic.

"Ooh," Alessia winced, covering Vic's eyes with her hand," That looks mingin'."

"Feels minging," You replied.

Your nose was definitely fractured in some way - not fully out of place but in pain enough that you knew you would sitting out the next few matches. Your eyebrow had a cut on it too, leaking blood at an alarming rate.

Katie looked over your injuries for a moment before she surged towards Bright. Caitlin and Lina hurried to grab her arms, holding her in place as she spat profanities.

"Let's get you up, kid," Kim said as she arrived, helping you to your feet with Jen taking up your other side," They'll need to pressure wrap. Throw in some stitches too."

You groaned, knowing that you weren't coming back on the pitch anytime soon.

"You'll be okay," Jen said soothingly," We'll get you sorted right out."

Beth was subbed on in your place, taking a moment to hold your chin in her hand so she could move your head around. You knew that your eyes would slowly be bruising because of your nose injury and that your eyebrow was still leaking blood.

She nodded firmly before she made her way onto the pitch.

"Come on," Viv took Kim's place," Let's get you treated."

It was blisteringly cold day so you shivered slightly as you were guided to the bench. Lotte reached forward from behind you, draping her coat over your shoulders while Viv looked at you in disapproval (having told you earlier in the locker room to make sure you brought your coat out).

The medics fussed over you for a second. Your nose was the least of their concerns as your eyebrow continued to bleed.

They spoke over your head like you weren't there, updating Viv as Laia gave you her mittens.

"Stitches, definitely," One of the medics said as they wrapped a compression bandage around your head," We can get it done now. You alright to get up?"

You nodded. "I'm good."

●～●～●～●～

The remaining members of the ACL squad joined you in the corridor, abandoning the rest of the match in favour of checking you over.

"Hey!" You laughed as Teyah flopped on top of you.

"Oh, don't give me that!" She grinned at you," You're fine. Nasty looking bandage though." She poked you in your cheek.

"Teyah," Leah said sternly," Be careful. She still needs stitches..." She studied your face. "And someone to take a look at that nose."

Teyah rolled her eyes but clambered off you as Laura approached, clapping you on the back.

"When you went down, I half thought that you'd be joining the ACL squad."

You laughed before wincing when your nose ached. "Trust me, I've no plans to join you all."

Leah, who had stopped scolding Teyah, looked at you incredulously. "What? Why not? The ACL squad is the coolest gang on the block!"

"On the block?" You exchanged a look with Teyah. "Leah, how old are you?"

She swatted you on the shoulder with an eye roll. "I'd take you to the floor, if you weren't injured."

"Then I'm glad I'm injured."

She softened. "The cut looked nasty, though. How are you feeling?"

"Like I hit a brick wall and then the ground."

Leah threw her head back and laughed. "Yeah," She said," That sounds like the Millie Bright experience."

"Can you tell her to work out less?" You asked as the club doctor came in with a suture kit. "It'd be nicer next time we go against each other, not to run into a wall of muscle."

"To be fair," Laura said softly," It's more like she ran into you."

You groaned, checks puffed out in embarrassment. "Then I'm just the idiot kid who didn't see her coming."

"Sit up, l/n," The doctor said," Let's get this over and done with."

●～●～●～●～

By the time you had been properly stitched up and given the go ahead to leave, the match had five minutes left.

You took a seat on the bench, curling into Stina's side (she must have been subbed off at some point during your treatment).

She had very much taken you under her wing for your time at Arsenal - although, you were half sure that was because as soon as Magda and Frido got word about your potential move, they bullied every England based Swede into watching out for you - but this inspection was a new kind of hovering.

"Are you sure that's stuck on properly?" She peppered you with questions. "Did they say how long you had to keep it on? What about your head? Do you have a concussion?"

"Calm down, Stina," Amanda said with an eyeroll," If she wasn't fine, they wouldn't have let her come back." She frowned before turning to you. "Right? They wouldn't have let you leave if you weren't alright?"

"Four days for the stitches," You said," And a week of light training - not on the pitch - because of my nose. Two weeks on the bench. If I get hit in the nose again before that, it might fully break it."

Stina nodded sympathetically as Lina appeared, an arm going over your shoulder and jostling you slightly.

"Looking good, kiddo. Bright really took a chunk out of you."

You groaned. "Don't remind me. I know that this is going to be all over Twitter by the end of the night."

Cloe snickered behind you, passing over her phone. "It's already done."

You groaned again, rolling your head into Stina's shoulder to hide.

Your embarrassment at Cloe reading out the tweets and reaction pictures was ended when the final whistle blew and you hurried away from the group to join some of the others on the pitch.

Kyra giggled at you when you joined her, Frida and Kathrine on the pitch. She poked your nose with a lazy grin. "You're gonna have panda eyes."

You rolled your eyes. "You try running into Millie Bright and coming out unscathed."

"Katie nearly beat her up," Frida said as she and Kathrine looped arms with you," It was kind of funny."

"Caitlin and Lina had to hold her back. She almost got carded," Kathrine continued.

"It's not a game if Katie doesn't get carded."

"Don't let her hear you say that," Caitlin appeared at of nowhere with Steph," She's lucky Bright thought she was more funny than anything."

"It was like watching a chihuahua square up to a pitbull," Steph reported," Wait. Give me a second. I think I can get it up."

"I'm good," You said," I don't need to see it. Not if it's going to show me going down. It's so embarrassing."

"It's already been sent on the chat," Kyra said with one of her silly grins," Bright looks really stricken when you go down though. The camera mainly focusses on her. Total meme potential."

"As long as it's not me."

●～●～●～●～

Escaping the roving eyes of your fellow Swedes was fairly easy when you ducked towards the fans, signing shirts and posters and laughing when people complimented your bandage.

"It's very fashionable," Noelle butted in with a crooked grin as she appeared at your side.

Your cheeks coloured, knowing she was teasing you. "Shut up," You muttered, shoving her lightly as you wiggled away.

Her fingers dug into your sides and you shrieked. She didn't let up and the fans were eating up your interaction. You turned around suddenly and shook her off, preparing to make a break for it but was blocked by Gio.

"Careful y/n/n," She said, sticking out her tongue at you," Don't bump into me or you'll actually break your nose this time."

"Hey!" You exclaimed," That was very traumatic for me! And you just bring it up casually?! For shame, Gio!"

You could feel Noelle closing in on you so you made another break for it, only for Manu to appear out of thin air. Her arms wrapped around your waist tightly and flung you back into Noelle's path.

You crashed into her not unlike when you crashed into Bright but with much more finesse. Noelle guided you down with her, taking a lot of care to make sure that she didn't slam your face into anything else.

From behind you, you could hear Manu, Sabrina and Naomi howl with laughter.

"Honestly," Lia said as she approached," You're all children. She could have been seriously hurt."

"She's already get panda eyes," Sabrina said," There's not much else we could have done."

"Except snap her nose this time," Naomi added and this time you joined in with the laughter.

"I'm fine, Lia, promise." You rose to your feet slowly and did a little twirl to prove your point before Lia pointed you back towards the locker room.

Alessia, Vic, Laia and Lotte were waiting for you.

"You look a lot better now," Vic said as you approached," There was a lot of blood."

"Millie is very sorry by the way," Less added as Laia rubbed your arms in an attempt to get you warm again," I think it really scared her. She's a softie really. She's sending you a gift basket."

"Ooh!" Laia exclaimed," I like marshmallows! Make sure there's marshmallows in it, Less!"

"Hey!" You nudged her in the ribs. "It's my gift basket not yours! I want chocolate. Please, tell her chocolate, Less!"

"I'll tell her," Lotte said," Seeing as Lessi will forget as soon as she goes home." She whipped at her phone. "You're still crashing with Stina, right? I'll text Millie your address too, so she knows where to send it."

You grinned triumphantly. "If it gets here within the week, I reckon I can convince Stina to let me eat some before my cheat day!"

[604to647]

Safest with You (Ch. 21 - The Way to Get Over Someone, Part 2)

11.3K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Despite Din's attempts to be evasive, you learn the truth about your break-up, and make some decisions about what you are and are not willing to accept going forward.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Angst, pining, longing. Nicknames as usual (pretty bird, baby). Some smuttiness but won't spoil.

A/N: Well, we're here: the penultimate chapter (if you don't count the epilogue) - sorry for the word count! 😱 Thank you to everyone who's read up to here - I can't tell you how much it means to me! I know some of you have some strong feelings about Din's actions/dumbdumbness and that's okay!! If you feel like regardless of his intentions, he shouldn't be forgiven/can't be redeemed, I invite you to read up until the paragraph that ends with the blue heart dividers 💙💙💙. I hope that where it ends provides a satisfying conclusion for the series for you and thank you, thank you, thank you again!

All dividers by @saradika-graphics / Series Masterlist

You don’t know how you get through dinner; you must have gone on some kind of small talk auto-pilot because if Mark knew just how much your mind was preoccupied by another man while he was being nothing but genuine and engaging, he probably would have thrown a glass of wine in your face.

Outside of the restaurant, Mark gives you a shy look and asks if you want to get ice cream for second dessert.  Oh man, he really is good guy.

“Oh Mark, I really cannot believe I’m turning down ice cream, but I have something to confess to you,” you look apologetic and hope he’ll let you say what you think he deserves to hear.

“Honestly, Mark – you’re a dream date.  You’re smart and funny and Jen was so right, you’re a fucking catch.  I can’t tell you how guilty I’ve been feeling because I don’t think I’ve been reciprocating the energy and effort that you deserve.  I don’t know if Jen told you, but I got out of a relationship a while ago and I thought I was ready to date again – but being with you tonight… I realize I’m completely out of my element.  I don’t have any business going out with a great guy like you – not right now anyways.  I’m so sorry.”

Mark looks surprised, but his tone is understanding, “Oh!  Wow.  Jen did say something about that – I’m sorry about your last relationship.  It sounds like it really did a number on you.  If it makes you feel better – I had a great time.  I didn’t in anyway feel like I was carrying the date or anything.  And if tonight was you not feeling like you’re up to dating again, then I can’t quite imagine what it would be like to date you when it’s something you’re ready to put your all into.  Thanks for being honest.  When you feel like you’re ready to give dating another shot – think of me?”

It’s a generous and gentlemanly response; you really couldn’t ask for anything more.  The two of you part ways with a light hug outside the restaurant; Mark offers to call you a cab, but you let him know you’ll be fine, and wave appreciatively as he drives away in the car the valet brings him. 

Sighing a heavy sigh, you’re just thinking it might be best if you send Jen a message to let her know how the date went before Mark does when you hear a crash coming from the alleyway next to the restaurant.

Curiosity getting the best of you, you walk over to the side of the building and peek around the corner; there in the alley is the occupier of all your current thoughts, Din, kicking garbage cans in frustration.  When you see him punch the brick wall of the building and shake out his fist, your legs carry you to him as if on instinct – unable to see Din hurt without the urge rising to comfort and soothe him.

Din has both of his palms up against the wall when you close in on him, leaning his weight against his hands with his eyes closed, breathing heavy.

“Din?  Are you okay?” you ask softly, not wanting to startle him.

He looks up, surprised at your appearance – eyes stormy, the rich browns of his irises full of emotion, “I’m okay, pretty bird.”

Pretty bird.  Your heart swells at the familiar term of endearment that you thought you’d never hear again.  It’s like music to your ears.

“This doesn’t look okay,” you gently pull the hand that you saw him shake in pain away from the wall, turning it over and cradling it in your hands - gasping a little when you see his knuckles scraped and bleeding.  Din watches your pretty face cloud with concern as you take a handkerchief from your purse and delicately wrap it around his wounded hand; tying it snugly against his palm before turning his hand over and bringing his knuckles to your lips, pressing a tender kiss against the makeshift bandage.

“Thank you, baby.”

You’re looking at him with such a sweet expression that Din’s heart starts to ache again; he has to remind himself that your concern isn’t really for him particularly – it’s just your kind nature, “Where’s your date?  Did he go and get the car or something?”

You shrug good naturedly, “I sent him home.  Would you mind putting me in a cab, Din?”

“Of course.” As Din walks with you back towards the street, his injured hand rests protectively on your lower back and the gesture causes a chill to run up your spine.

It’s not in uncomfortable silence that the two of you wait on the curb, but Din is afraid that if he doesn’t engage you in some type of conversation, you and this moment will disappear before his mind registers it as being real, “Why did you send your date home?  Did he try something?” His eyes darken.

You shake your head lightly; Din’s protective nature is exactly as you remember - you’ve missed it, “No, nothing like that.  He was fine, really.”  You can’t deny it any longer, you’ve missed him, “He just wasn’t… you.”  With this admission you look up at Din and search his eyes – does he miss you too?

“Oh, pretty bird,” Din manages to breathe out before he descends on your mouth, kissing you fully and so full of longing and desperation he’s afraid he might actually break you.  Your arms fly up of their own accord and wrap around Din’s neck, pulling him closer, closer, closer; your fingers thread and tug at the loose curls at the nape of his neck and you long to run your hands through his hair again - you refrain, not wanting to mess up his hairstyle.  He’s yours and you’re his again in this kiss – every brush of your lips, every step in the dance of your tongues a testament to how much you’ve missed each other.

You’re melting.  Melting into Din’s strong arms and the safety of his hold, reveling in the warmth of his affections.  It’s like you’ve never left, his body molds to yours, fitting so right – pressed flushed against Din, you dare anything to try and get between the two of you right now.

Parting reluctantly when you hear the slow crunch of tires coming to a stop next to you, Din kisses your forehead gently before seeing you into the backseat of the cab.  When you see him open the passenger side door and speak to the driver, you recall with a surge of affection that cab ride after Katie’s birthday when you and Din reconnected after your brief separation.  Once again, Din tells the driver your address and emphasizes the importance of getting you home safely, punctuating his point with an overly generous tip.  Your heart swells at the memory – the déjà vu driving home how everything about your relationship had been real.

When Din comes back to see you in the backseat, your eyes are bright and full of feeling – he’s here, the sweet man who always takes care of everyone, who only every wanted to take care of you; he’s right here in front of you again.  Bringing your hand up to Din’s cheek, your heart soars when he leans into your palm with a smile; the soft feel and weight of his face familiar and comforting.

“Din, I know you didn’t sleep with Vanessa,” you say simply with no room for argument – a simple fact.  Now that you’ve said it out loud, it seems so fucking obvious.  How could you have ever believed that this man could have been capable of such a betrayal?

Simplicity and truth are all that Din can afford as well, “Of course not.  How could I ever want anyone else when I had you?  The perfect woman.  You’re the love of my life, pretty bird.  Would never cheat on you.”

The sincerity of his words brings tears to your eyes, “Then why, Din?  Why would you want me to think that you had?”

You look so confused and sad; for the billionth time, Din chastises his past self for his dumb decisions, “Needed you to hate me, pretty bird.  Needed you to stay away from me.  It’s the only way to keep you safe.”

Though this answer is vague, your response is relayed with certainty; hands cupping Din’s face, “I’m safest with you, Din.”

The kiss that Din presses to your lips at this declaration is achingly desperate, as if he’s trying to brush away all his past mistakes and wipe clean the hurt he’s caused.  He loves you.  You can feel it in every stroke of his tongue over yours, and in the way his teeth nip and nibble at your lower lip.

You’ve missed his mouth, his touch, and everything Din – and judging by the way his hands cradle your face and the deep emotions swirling in the richness of brown eyes, Din’s missed you just as much.  The two of you hold each other, foreheads pressed together for closeness, breathing in the other’s air as you soak in this togetherness that neither of you ever thought you’d experience again.

Finally, remembering what that last cab ride led to, you whisper, “Din, will you come over tonight?”

There’s a pause as Din’s brows furrow and his eyes squeeze shut.  This moment of tenderness with you, one where you don’t hate him, has been more than he deserves.  But it’s a fantasy, a mirage – the reports of escalating violence he listened to during tonight’s meeting still fresh in his mind, Din shakes his head in frustration.  Based on what had been disclosed in the meeting, he can’t help but think that it’s working – everything he’s done to remove the target on your back is working; he can’t throw away your safety just so he can have this feeling again.  That would be too risky.  Selfish.

“Pretty bird, I can’t do that.  I’m sorry.”

“I don’t understand, Din,” your voice breaks at his latest rejection and the sound tears Din in two.

He lifts your chin with his fingers so that you’ll look at him though the tears that are already starting to form in your beautiful eyes, “Baby, please understand.  We can’t.  We can’t be together – you deserve better than this, than me.  Being with me puts you in unnecessary danger.  My deepest fear is that you get hurt and I can’t… I won’t let that happen.”

“You’re hurting me right now, Din,” your voice small, sad.

Din knows he is, but he has to stay strong and resolved for your sake, even if this short respite from the dull ache of his everyday existence has been a heaven beyond his imagination, “I’m sorry, pretty bird.  I really am.  I love you, I love you.  But you deserve better.”

You say nothing but the few tears that roll down your cheeks speak volumes.  With great difficulty, Din says a wordless goodbye with kisses to your hair, then both of your hands before letting them and you go.  He knocks on the top of the cab to let the driver know he can leave; as the taxi drives away, he sees your hurt face looking back at him and it nearly brings him to his knees. 

Pressing the heels of his palm to his eyes, Din lets out a loud growl of frustration.  Taking several deep breaths before going back in to rejoin the Family meeting, he repeats to himself a mantra that he has to believe – This is the right thing.  The most important thing is that she’s safe.  Staying away from her keeps her safe.

---

Din’s resolve lasts exactly two days.

---

It takes you only the duration of the cab ride home to get over the sting of Din’s rejection.  Yes, the emotional whiplash of having him tell you that he loves you only for him say that it doesn’t change anything between the two of you hurt, but by the time you’ve taken Al out and finished getting ready for bed, your hurt feelings have been replaced by fresh purpose and determination. 

You finally have some answers.  Somehow Din has convinced himself that being apart from him is for your benefit and he’s willing to sacrifice his own happiness for it.  The problem for you is that he’s also willing to sacrifice yours. 

There’s a part of you that is livid about this, but you’re keeping this particular emotion at bay for the present moment with your newfound conviction to get to the bottom of what’s going on; you’ll get the answers you seek before you decide how you’re going to feel about it all.

You spend most of the weekend turning over the events of the last five months in your head, looking at them with a new perspective after the revelations from the past four days; mentally preparing a list of things that Din owes you explanations for and talking yourself in and out of how you’ll demand them of him. 

By some twist of fate, your regular Sunday brunch has been cancelled for the first time in forever, with several of your friends unable to make it – you can’t decide if this is in your favour or not.

On one hand, you could really use their opinions and a sounding board for your rollercoaster of thoughts and emotions; on the other hand, you suspect that Din is currently not your friends’ favourite person and you could probably do without the barrage of insults that would inevitably be thrown about as a reaction to his and Vanessa’s confessions from this past week.  Not that Din didn’t deserve them, but rather they wouldn’t help you work out what you need to do next.

By Sunday afternoon you’re sure of a few things:

Din loves you.

He has always loved you and he never stopped.

You love him, too.

He truly believed that being with him put you in danger.

What you didn’t know:

How could it be that he loved you so deeply but could so readily leave you?  Not just initially five months ago, but again, not two days earlier?

What gave him the right to decide what was best for you? 

Did he really think it acceptable to keep you in the dark about things that he clearly believed impacted your life so significantly?

The details of what prompted Din to act the way he did don’t interest you as much as why it led him to behave so unsympathetically for the past five months.  The more you think about it, the harder it is for you sit still and wait out the indetermined amount of time needed before you get your answers.

On Sunday night, you make the decision to head down to Mando’s yourself after work one day this week.  Feeling confident in your decided course of action, you’re as satisfied as you can be with the situation when you hear a knock on your door.

---

This is too easy.

Din mutters to himself as he walks through the parking garage beneath your apartment building undetected.  It was entirely too easy for him to gain entry into the garage and avoid the security cameras on his way to the internal stairwell.  He makes a mental note to talk to Paz about this gap in security as he’s taking the stairs two at a time up to your floor. 

He had tried to stay away, he really had.  But just as Din had always known, without the deterrent of you hating him and the surety that you would push him away, he had only his own self control to keep him from seeking you out, and that had crumbled under your loving touch outside the restaurant on Friday.

It had been too long since Din had gone without the feel of your soft lips pressed to his or basked in the warmth of your soft gaze and he had positively melted from both when he saw you after your date.  Like an addict in recovery, the high from his relapse was too intense to ignore; he simply could not be kept from you any longer.

He barely recalls what happened after going back into the restaurant on Friday and finishing the Family meeting.  Or how he got through Saturday at the gym, trying to slog through this month’s invoicing and attempting (unsuccessfully) to concentrate on Jimmy’s training.  Don’t even ask him what he did today.  All he knows is that after nightfall, his body drove his truck over to your neighbourhood and his feet carried him straight to your door.

Unsure of what type of reception he’ll receive if you open the door, Din doesn’t even know what he expects, only what he wants: you.

Your door opens with you already ready for bed, blinking at him with an unreadable expression.  Din thinks he should speak first and lets Al buy him some time when he noses out, nuzzling his snoot into Din’s large hands.  After giving your happy pup a few head rubs to show him how much he’s been missed, Din straightens up to look at you again; he opens his mouth to say something, though he doesn’t know what - and he never finds out because you kiss him.

You hadn’t expected to see Din before your planned confrontation, and you certainly didn’t think you’d see him at your door looking so soft and vulnerable.  After he had dispensed some love to Al, the expression in Din’s eyes when he raised himself back up to his impressive height was that of a much smaller man.  One who was unsure, ashamed.

To see Din like this takes all the wind out of the proverbial sails you had hoisted high over the last two days, the ones you had readied in anticipation of the fight you were bringing to his doorstep this week.  And just like before, when faced with seeing Din in distress, your mind, heart and body ache to soothe and calm him - so you do what comes naturally and press your lips to his.

Din’s lips never leave yours.  Not when you walk him inside your apartment and close the door, and not when he familiarly navigates the layout of your living room to sit on the couch and pull you down onto his lap.  He won’t stop brushing his desperate mouth against your perfectly plush pout, the one he dreams about regularly, even as he murmurs the only two phrases he needs to know you understand:

I’m sorry, baby.

I love you, pretty bird.

You match Din kiss for kiss, “I know.  I know, Din” as you undress first yourself, then the man whose touch you’ve been yearning for for nearly half a year and whose weight you long to be under again.  Your body cries out, remembering the feel of the corded muscles of his strong arms and the comfort of his hard chest; your hands molds to Din’s body as they roam and explore, afraid if you release him he’ll be ripped away from you again.  On Din’s part, even as his mouth becomes more insistent, his touch on your body remains gentle, reverent – where you’re urgent and possessive, he is worshipful.  And still, he recites:

I’m sorry, baby.

I love you, pretty bird.

With Din owning your mouth, your moans of I know, I know, I know are swallowed and vibrate down into his chest - setting his heart on fire and quickening his pulse even as he kisses deeper and steals all your air.

Feeling him lick into your mouth, you whimper ‘Din, please’ and the sound of his name once again on your lips makes Din’s dick jump.  He grabs you tight around the waist, holding you to him to continue fully exploring the open, moaning cavern of your mouth, conveying his devotion with each caress and massage of his tongue.  How could he have ever let you go?  You show Din that you don’t want him to do so ever again by meeting his every touch, every kiss, every guttural needy noise with a hungrier one of your own.

It’s been too long and your hearts and bodies have missed each other too much; Din is already hard and throbbing against where you’re wet and wanting.  Everything is hurried, messy, and inelegant.  You need each other and that’s all there is to it.

Overcome with your own greediness, you murmur, “Need you inside, baby.”

As Din’s entire body melts into a puddle at your words, every muscle in his broad frame relaxes and all his power and control evaporate in the face of his one and only fantasy coming to life; only snapped out of his euphoric state by the sensation of you smearing his leaking precum over his length with your soft hands - Din thinks he might come from this alone.  He’s craved your touch every moment since that fateful night outside his apartment, but he holds back for the heaven he knows is to come when you line him up to your entrance and slowly sink down.

It’s really has been too long – Din’s too big and you’re too tight and there hasn’t been enough prep; it hurts.  But somehow it’s welcomed - both of you needing it to hurt, wanting it to hurt, so you know it’s real.

“Nggghhhh – fuck, Din, so big,” you whine as he stretches you out - he’s bigger than you remember.  He feels better than you remember.

“I know, pretty bird.  But it’ll fit,” Din hums, “because you’re made for me.”

His sweet words belie the sting to your tight channel, but the joy that overflows from your heart straight to you core soon drowns out the pain; this is how it was always meant to be: you trusting your body to Din, and Din taking care of you.  Slowly, slowly, your sheath yourself onto Din’s cock – fitted so close that you feel every thick vein and groove along your warm walls. 

Din’s kisses are gentler now, tender and reassuring like his words, “Doing so good for me, pretty girl,” “You feel so perfect around me,” “Love this tight cunt, missed her so much.”

His praise causes your pussy to gush and your hands card through his soft curls appreciatively.  Gazing into Din’s eyes lovingly, you coo back your own song, “Feels so good, daddy,” “God, I’m so full,” “Noone wrecks this pussy like you, baby.”

When you’re finally fully seated, with Din bottomed out inside you, his balls nestled perfectly under your ass, the two of you simply just rest.  Countless minutes go by so you can relearn to breathe and Din thanks his lucky stars for the privilege of praying at your altar once more.

Fully blissed out and body trembling upon remembering its rightful place on Din’s cock, you whisper, “Din, please move.” And move he does.

Slowly and with the restraint of a saint, Din thrusts up to meet your tentative downward movements, dragging his cock deliciously in and out of your tight cunt, letting her suck him back in of her own volition.  You wrap your arms around his neck and feel Din’s sensual kisses on your lips, down your neck, and at the hollows of your throat; the wet trail his mouth leaves behind causes an electric chill to run throughout your entire body, your hips bucking a little harder, a little more ambitious in response.

There’s no rush, the two of you have all the time in the world to enjoy your reunion, and yet there’s an urgency - a hunger to devour as much of one another as you can, both starved from your time apart.  The need to make up for lost time takes over; every kiss of skin on skin is an apology and a promise, your declarations of love becoming louder and more unabashed, movements more fervent, frantic.

Din groans into your skin, “Pretty bird, not going to last.  Missed you too much,” as he starts to punch up with an impressive force, driving his cock deeper into your cunt and reaching that spot that only he’s ever been able to find.

“Give it to me, daddy,” you mewl, barrelling towards to your own orgasm faster than you had expected, “Need it.  Need you.  I love you, I love you, I love you.”  This is the first time you’ve said it back tonight, and the only time Din’s heard these sweet words in the musical lilt of your voice in last five mouths – this alone sends him on the fast track to the edge.

He snakes one hand between your bodies to find your already pulsating clit and starts to pen a long overdue love letter with his thumb.  Din’s other arm pulls your body as close to his as possible, so you’re now pressed flushed against his warm chest, moving with him as one.

I’m sorry, baby.  I love you, pretty bird.  I love you.

I love you, Din.  Missed you so much.  I love you.

You come - teary eyes locked onto Din’s as he signs over his fate with an elegant signature on your clit.  Your slippery nub kisses his thumb back just as hard, crying and begging for relief as you clench down from the onslaught of pleasure that only Din can give you.  Din spills deep into you as your pussy chokes him, milking the euphoria of his release for all it’s worth.  He’s in heaven.  You’re his heaven.

Wordlessly, you and Din exchange soft smiles and besotted looks as you clean-up after; a string of never-ending tender kisses lead the two of you back to the couch where you lay down in Din’s arms, sated and pliant, soaking in the strength and sureness with which he holds you, “Din, we need to talk.”

“I know, pretty bird,” he’s ready to tell you everything, lay it all bare for you. 

Propping yourself up on your elbow so you can look Din in the eye, you implore him to be honest with you, “You said you needed me to hate you.  That it was the only way to keep me safe.  What were you talking about?”

Din tells you about the photos that the Family received which had been received as threats and the various confrontations and incidents of harassment in the months following that confirmed them as such.  He tells you how scared he’s been for you, and how guilty and sorry he is that you were ever caught up in his world in this terrifying way.

Forcing himself not to look away from your pretty face when he sees it line with fear, Din tells you that he never wanted you to feel frightened or for your life to be interrupted, “You’re safe, pretty bird, I promise.  You’re well protected - the entire Fett Family is looking out for you.  They love you as much as I do.  The Family would never abandon you.”

“Just you then?” It wasn’t meant as a sarcastic or passive aggressive comment, but you just honestly can’t see what this had to do with why Din left you.  If anything, wouldn’t it have made more sense for him to stay by your side?

Regardless of your meaning, Din looks pained at your question and averts his eyes in shame.

“I understand that you were afraid for me because of the threats, but if the Family was willing to protect me, I still don’t understand why you would need me to hate you to be safe?”

“You should never have been in danger at all, baby.  The reason you’re a target is because of me.  Whoever issued the threats only targeted you because… because, they knew how much you mean to me.  How much I love you.  It wasn’t enough just to protect you from the threat, I didn’t want you to be under threat at all.  That’s the only way to guarantee you would be safe.”

You stroke Din’s face with your hand, and he leans in to your comforting touch and closes his eyes.

“If you hated me, then you would no longer be a worthy target.  The person they really want to hurt is me, and if we weren’t together anymore, they can’t do that through you.”  Din sighs, “But I’m so sorry, pretty bird.  The way I went out about it was all wrong - hurting you like I did is inexcusable and it shattered my heart to do so.  You didn’t deserve to think I cheated on you.”

Your heart softens and you lean in to lay gentle, sympathetic kisses to Din’s soft lips.  Finally, finally you understand.  Though you don’t excuse the hurt he caused, you can understand Din’s fallacious reasoning; in an odd way, it’s a relief to see him so unchanged – his actions ever consistent with his self-sacrificing nature and his conviction to take care of those he loves, to keep them safe.  The only thing is, his was not the only heart he had sacrificed.

“I thought you never loved me,” you say in a small voice, “when I thought you had cheated on me, it made me question our entire relationship.”

“Oh, fuck, baby,” Din’s shame and self-anger triple upon hearing your words.  He had expected you to be angry, to hate him for the lie he had you believe, but he never considered that you would have doubted what he felt for you prior to that horrible night.  Secure in the depth of his own devotion and the truth of just how in love with you he was, Din had thought what was unshakeable to him would be the same for you; but of course, now that you’ve said it, it makes complete sense and he adds this egregious transgression against you to his long list of regrets, “I’m so fucking sorry.  I never thought- oh, fuck.  It never crossed my mind that you might ever doubt how so completely in love with you I’ve always been.  From the moment I met you it was over for me, baby – you became the single most important person in my life.  I live for you, pretty bird.  I’m so sorry I ever made you feel any differently.”

Din looks at you with so much sincerity and desperation, you heart is unable to do anything but believe him.  You know without a shadow of a doubt that Din loves you and moreover, that everything he’s done has been in the name of that love.  And though you trust in his pure intentions, they’re misguided in a way that you have to make him understand.  If the two of you are to have a chance again, you need honesty and openness, and Din has to have faith in that same love when things get tough.

You’re lightly scratching Din’s facial scruff the way you know he loves, wanting to just enjoy this affectionate moment a little longer before you dive into the more serious things you need to talk about when you both hear Din’s phone start to buzz incessantly. 

Din reaches his long arm off the couch and easily finds his discarded pants and pulls out his phone, frowning when he sees the multiple notifications on his lock screen.

His entire body tenses as he reads Paz’s messages.

Hutt movement three blocks away from Lil’ Lady’s.

Woves confirms the group is growing.

Mods say traffic cams show more on the way. 

Din feels a stab of fear tear through his chest before the horror of what he’s done settles like a boulder in his stomach.

For the five months that Din had left you alone, there hadn’t even been a hint of suspicious activity anywhere near you.  No appearance of shady characters or any incidents of malfeasance, not a single one.  You had been safe.

What had changed tonight?  What could have possibly happened to incite a flurry of rival gang activity so close to your home when it had never previously been an issue?

It was him.  What had changed is he had been weak.  He had given in to his need for you, selfishly putting you in harm’s way.  Din realizes he had been right: staying away from you had been keeping you safe.  He gets up suddenly, the need to rectify his mistake overwhelming.

“Din?”

Din’s hurrying putting on his clothes and doesn’t answer you.  He doesn’t hear you get up from the couch after him and grab a house cardigan from the back of one of the dining room chairs to throw over yourself, watching as he carries on to leave without saying a word.

“STOP!!”

You hardly ever yell.  And you never slam your hand down on your dining table so hard and loud it hurts, but you need to get Din’s attention somehow.  It works - Din’s shocked out of his automated movements and turns to face you.

“What are you doing, Din?” you look distressed, confused, but most of all, frightened by what you think you already know is happening.

“This was a mistake, pretty bird.”

His words cause you to recoil; your voice comes out tight, bordering on bitter, “What was a mistake, Din?  Telling me you loved me, that you lived for me?  Or sleeping with me?  Tell me, which mistake do you mean?” 

Din rushes forward; he’s fucking up all over, he can tell, and hurting you again is the very last thing he ever wanted to do, “No, baby – none of that was a mistake.  Being with you tonight has been a happiness I never thought I’d feel again.  Honestly, I didn’t think I deserved it and still don’t think I do.  The mistake was me somehow thinking that everything was behind us.  That I wouldn’t be putting your safety at risk by coming over here.”

He can’t possibly be doing this again, you’re incredulous, “You’re doing this again?  You’re going to leave?  And I don’t get a say in it?”

“Pretty bird, you don’t understand.”

“Make me understand, Din.”

“There’s something happening right now, a danger that’s closer to you than should ever be allowed.  And it’s because I’m here.  This is proof that I’m no good for you baby.”

“Din, how can you say that?  I love you.”

“And I have to keep you safe because I love you, too.”

“What you’re doing is breaking my heart, Din. This isn’t the only way - you have to trust me.”

“This isn’t about trust, pretty bird, it’s about your safety.”

“Of course it’s about trust, Din!  You don’t trust me to be able to handle some of the things in your life – things that you think I’m too delicate or ‘good’ for, whatever the fuck that means.  You don’t trust me so you don’t tell me anything or let me make any decisions, and that’s really fucking condescending and hurtful.  You have to trust me, Din!  You have to trust that you can show me parts of yourself and your world that maybe aren’t perfect or you aren’t that proud of and that I’m not going to leave!  You have to trust that I love you enough!”

The silence between the two of you is punctuated only by your shallow breathing from finishing your speech and the electric tension that now hums in the air.  Something in Din’s brain is awakening, yelling at him that there’s a truth in your words that he hasn’t had the courage to face – that other than your safety, he’s been worried that bringing you fully into his world and telling you everything, sharing in all the fears and dark parts, would scare you away.  That he’s been afraid that you would walk away, so he did it first.

Din doesn’t know if he’s ready to face this realization or its implications out loud, not when you’re looking at him with so much disappointment and anger.  Not when the phone in his pocket continues to buzz non-stop.

You’re at your wit’s end and throw out ludicrously, “So, what?  We stay apart until you deem it safe again?  Then what, we’re allowed to date until the next time you think it’s safer for me if you leave?  And then we just repeat this pattern forever?”

Din’s exasperated too, frustrated with the unexpected turn this evening has taken – at himself.  He throws his hands up in the air, “I don’t know, okay?  I just know it’s not safe for you to be my girl right now.  And as for later?  May not then either?  Maybe you just don’t wait for me.”

You freeze, the retort on the tip of your tongue that you’re supposed to be a team and that Din doesn’t get to choose for the both of you, dissipates from your shock at his last words, “Wait. What do you mean ‘don’t wait for you’?”

Din doesn’t immediately clarify so you press on, “You would be okay with that?  If I moved on with someone else? Is that what you want?”

Din wants to reassure you; it’s not what he meant, of course.  His heart would shatter if you were with someone else; he had only meant that he knew it was terribly unfair for you to have to wait for this situation to resolve itself, and he didn’t want to force you to be or assume that you were okay with it – but it had come out wrong.  He stops himself from explaining though; realizing with a punch to the gut that he could use this to give you a clean slate, a clean break from him.  You would hate him again – but it would remove the temptation to come see you in secret like tonight, endangering your safety every time he was too weak to stay away from you.  So, he says nothing.

You take his silence the way he intends, as confirmation that Din doesn’t want you anymore and your tears come fast and threaten to overflow.   You’re angry, confused, and hurt.  Again. 

The barrier you had put up earlier when you so logically decided to figure out your feelings once you figured out the truth comes crashing down and you think you’re going to drown in the tidal wave of emotions that swell and rise with being so casually tossed away again.  You feel like a fool, letting Din toy with your feelings (and your body) over and over.

“Din.  Is that what you want?  Do you just want us to be over?” you choke out.

Din’s expression is unreadable and he won’t make eye contact with you - but when he sighs, it’s the most devasting sound you’ve ever heard in your life. 

Your cheeks are wet and you feel yourself shaking.  The words that are blabbering out now hardly make sense and you don’t think you even mean half of them, but you aren’t thinking straight - you just know these words will sting and make Din feel as bad as you do right now, “Why did you come tonight, Din? For an easy fuck?  You knew you would find guaranteed pussy here, didn’t you?  I can’t blame you, I guess. I mean, if you know you always have a desperate slut you can use, someone who’s stupid enough to buy whatever lies you tell her to get her to give it up, why not, right?”

Suddenly aware of how exposed you are, you pull your cardigan tighter over your body and shrink away from Din.

Din reaches for you - this, he cannot have.  He cannot have you reducing yourself to just a worthless fuck when you’re his sun.  He loves you more than anything, would hang the moon for you; you’re the most incredible and precious thing in his life, “No, no… that’s not it.  Please, pretty bird, don’t…”

You pull away from his outreaching hand and say in a flat, dead tone, “I’m not your pretty bird anymore.” 

Even Din can see that he’s hit your limit - hurt you beyond repair and now you’ve shut down.  Shut him out.  Fighting ever fibre in his body to go to you, soothe you and try to  reassure you of his love, he hangs his head, “No. You’re right… you’re not.”

The two of you stand in silence, facing each other but worlds apart, for what is probably only a minute but feels like forever.  Finally, Din turns to the front door to leave; pausing just after turning the handle, he whispers, “I’m sorry”, before exiting your apartment and closing the door behind him.

Once in the hallway, Din hears the lock turn immediately, followed by the most devastating sound he’s ever heard.  You’re sobbing, loud enough that he can hear it through the door and he wants more than anything to kick down the door and sweep you into his arms, take it all back - comfort you with kisses and lightly chastise you for even considering for a moment that he could ever stop loving you. 

But he doesn’t.  It’s better this way, Din tells himself. 

The sound of your sobs follows Din as he races down the stairs, towards the danger that lurks too closer for comfort.  He’s more than ready to take out his distress on the bastards who had deigned to look upon you as someone to threaten, to hurt - or just some unfortunate Hutts who found themselves in the wrong neighbourhood tonight.  Din doesn’t much care.  Blinking back his tears and steeling his resolve with clenched fists, all Din knows is you won’t be the only person he hurts tonight – you’re just the only one who doesn’t deserve it.

Exactly one week later, you storm into brunch still angry, exhausted and hurt from your altercation with Din the Sunday before; hot tears brim along your lash line from the humiliation of having slept with Din only for him to leave you again, and your frustration at his dismissal of any attempt to talk out your issues.  The only sure-fire thing you’ve decided is that there will be no more secrets - no more half truths, no more protecting people from hard and ugly realities.  Sure, you would have much preferred if this was the road upon which you and Din were embarking, but in lieu of that, you decide that you can come clean with your friends.  You tell them about the Fett Family and Din’s old role, and what he seems to still do for the Family.  You tell your friends about Poe, Boba, Cass, the Hutts and the Pykes, and the Mandos and the Mods.  You tell them about all the security incidents from earlier in the year and the threats you only just learned of and about Din’s and your place in it all.  You tell them about your run-in with Vanessa and how your date with Mark went and about sleeping with Din last week.  You tell them everything that’s yours to tell and even somethings that aren’t because you’re done with pretending that these secrets are worth keeping and somehow worth your happiness.

Your friends are speechless; all the food, and shockingly the drinks, are untouched as you talk and only after you indicate you’re done with your recollection of how Din left you crying in your foyer, do they descend on you to offer their kind supportive words and loving hugs.  Once everyone is settled back in their seats and people’s emotions have leveled out a bit, Rory asks,

“Do you still love him?”

It’s not the question you expected from her, or from any of your friends really, and it truly deflates you as you lean back in your chair to contemplate your response.  The last week saw you primarily cataloguing Din’s transgressions against your heart; it’s a long list and it had kept your mind and heart fairly preoccupied.  You’re furious at him… but did his foolhardy actions change the man you believed he was?  The man you had loved?  You answer only what you’re sure of,

“It doesn’t matter.  It doesn’t seem to matter to him what I think or feel.  Din just does what he thinks is best.”

Your friends nod sympathetically, understanding you’re already fighting a seemingly endless battle between your head and your heart.  They thoughtfully put forth their opinions in between bites of their now cold dishes:

“No matter what his reasoning is, it doesn’t give him the right to jerk you around in the name of ‘your safety’.”

“Does he have a point though?  Is it dangerous to be with him? Are you scared?”

“Won’t the Family protect you?  Why is he acting like he’s the only one who cares about you?”

“I don’t like that he hurt you on purpose with that Vanessa nonsense.  That lie was so elaborate.”

“How many times does he think he can do this to you?”

“You deserve someone who is honest with you.  Someone who will treat you like an equal partner in everything.”

“He loves you so much.  It’s always been clear to us that you’re his whole world, babe.”

You agree with it all – these same thoughts have been running laps in your mind since the night Din closed your door behind him.  Din’s martyr-like approach to your safety did not sit well with you, especially when it sacrificed the wellbeing of your heart without so much as a consultation of your feelings; it’s crystal clear to you now that entirely too many lies and secrets had been justified and tolerated in the last several months and even your relationship prior.  Yes, you know how you feel about what Din did.

But how do you feel about him?  To a certain degree, you know you still love Din, but things just aren’t that simple anymore.  Given everything that’s happened, how can you feel about him?  You don’t know.

6 months ATN

Waiting until there’s a break in the traffic, you cross the street quickly, heading straight for the bookstore across from your office building.  Right away, you spot the display you’re looking for: the centre table for “Current Hot Reads” with Bea’s book right in the middle - you can’t help but grin widely.  Picking up four copies, you busy yourself for a few minutes straightening up the display - strategically stacking and propping up copies of your friend’s book so it stands out in a pleasing manner amongst the other titles.  When you stand back, satisfied, to review your work, a kind voice behind you says, “Are you the author, dear?” You turn to see an older woman in a delightfully ostentatious fur coat smiling at you.

Unable to keep the pride out of your voice, you beam, “Ha ha ha!  No, one of my best friends is!  I’m actually buying these as gifts to give out to our mutual girlfriends at dinner tonight!”

“Oh, that’s so lovely dear!  What a good friend you are!” the lady smiles, “What is the book about?”

“It’s a modern romance, childhood best friends turned lovers.  The first in her series!” you gush, ready to talk Bea up to the high heavens.

“Oh lovely!  My granddaughter loves romance novels, maybe I should get it for her?”

For a moment you simply imagine what the granddaughter might think when reading the smut her sweet nana bought her and you do your best to hold in your chuckle, “Tell you what.  I’m going to buy an extra copy and leave it at the cashier for you.  If you decide you don’t want it or prefer to buy a copy, just tell the cashier to pass it on to the next person who’s interested.”

“Oh dear, you don’t have to do that!”

“I know!  But I want to!  I can’t tell you how much it delights me to support my friend.  Please ask your granddaughter to help spread the word about the book and the author.  I know she’ll love it, it really is just that good,” you enthuse.

The older woman squeezes your hand in thanks as you pick up a fifth copy of Bea’s book; leaving her to read the jacket summary as you head to the cashier.  After giving the cashier the instructions for the last copy, you give the display another quick once over before leaving the bookstore, heading directly to dinner with a spring in your step.

---

Din sees you the moment you walk in.  For some reason, maybe a sixth sense, he had looked up at the bookstore front door before it opened, and there you were.  He hasn’t seen you since the night he left you crying in your apartment, the same night he sent half of the Hutt enforcements to the hospital; when he accepted this surveillance post for the day, he had half hoped he would see you.  You’re just as stunning and bright as the you he keeps in his memories, if not more so.

He had also seen the display of Bea’s books when he walked in and already picked up a copy to buy in support; he figured he would give it to Lisa.  Din watches you rearrange the display from behind the shelves, trying not to be a creep but unable to take his eyes off of you – wistfully, he recalls seeing you do the same thing on the day you first met; it’s no less charming now than it was then.  Listening with a smile as you talk excitedly to the older lady about Bea’s book, Din’s heart swells when he hears you offer to buy her granddaughter a copy.  You’re still you.  Sweet, generous, unassuming, and unflinchingly kind.

God, he misses you.

He’s been trying to put you out of his mind, of course; positive that he’s eradicated not only any goodwill or affectionate feeling you may have held for him a few months ago, but also any chance he had of ever being with you again.  Whereas before he kept away for your safety and his own self punishment, he does so now out of self preservation.  To steel himself for his future without you.

Din does, however, allow himself one photo of you.  It’s one that Paz took the night of the fight with Rotta Hutt.  Taken right after he’s scooped you up ringside, the shot shows only the back of Din’s head, but your face is on full display, filled with joy and adoration.  He looks at it everyday; trying not to long for you more than he already does, Din comes to regard it as motivation of sorts – this is what makes all his misery worth it, he thinks to himself.  You.  Happy.

And while he can’t bring himself to delete his photos of you off his phone, or even erase your old messages, Din never looks at them either.  He doesn’t deserve to.  Especially not the dirty texts and photos; he doesn’t have a right to see you that way anymore - as much as he misses you, Din won’t violate your privacy.  But on the days when the pressure, stress and Din’s own loneliness lead him to release his frustration while in the shower, he imagines a soft hand touching him and knows it’s yours.  The voice that he hears telling him how good it feels, he knows is yours.  The moans that ring in his ears as he furiously fucks his fist can only be yours.  And when he comes, choking out broken pants of I love you, I love you, I fucking loving you so much, those words are for you and you only.

Seven months ATN

Opening your guest room closet, you sigh to yourself. 

It’s time. 

You’ve been avoiding doing this, but not only is it long overdue, you’re also embarrassed at how anxious you’ve been to attempt this task.  It’s been two months since Din left you crying on your knees in the front foyer of your apartment and seven since you fled his apartment after believing he had cheated on you.  In that hazy first week, you had gone around the apartment grabbing anything that belonged to him and stuffed it into what ended up being an overflowing bin that you then shoved into the back of the guest room closet.  Out of sight, out of mind.

But you have guests coming to stay next week, and moreover, it bothers you how rude it is to have kept these belongings that aren’t yours.  It was one thing when Din had been a lying cheating bastard; but now that you know he hadn’t had any ill intent and was as much of a victim of his poor decisions as you are, it doesn’t feel right to hang on to these items.  Bringing home some flat packing boxes from the work mailroom, you assemble them first, trying to prolong actually having to go through your ex’s things.

Stop being a chicken shit, you chide yourself, it’s been months.  Get over it and get it over with. You pull the bin out of the closet and his smell, Din’s smell, immediately hits you when you when you start to take out the clothes.  You close your eyes and let yourself breathe in the familiar scent.  It’s as inviting as you remember and immediately brings his handsome visage to your mind.  When you open your eyes, they’re filled with tears.  Dammit.

You force yourself to work through your tears.  Fighting it at first but eventually allowing yourself to recall memories associated with Din’s items, you feel and expunge all the emotions you had hidden away like you had these belongings.  It’s cathartic and freeing, and once you’ve shed the tears you need, you make quick work of the task.  When you’ve filled the last box, you write a short note apologizing how long it’s taken to return these items and quickly tape up the boxes so that the contents are once again out of your sight.

---

The following weekend, you and Katie take a cab with the boxes to Din’s neighbourhood.  You don’t think you’re ready to see Din in person, but you think you can handle dropping off the boxes… at Peli’s.  Katie helps you carry the boxes from the taxi into the drycleaner’s and you ring the little bell Peli leaves out when she’s in the back working with the machines.  You see her bushy crown of curls before you do her inviting face, the smile she smiles when she sees you is brighter than the sun.  You feel warmed just seeing her again.

“Well, look who it is,” Peli grins, eyes full of genuine cheer and relief, “long time no see.”

Nodding, your heart feels a tug with how much you’ve missed Peli and all the other friends you made through Din who you haven’t seen in months, “Too long, Peli!”

“Glad you can admit you missed me,” she teases, holding absolutely nothing against you, “what can I do for you?  Don’t tell me those boxes are full of drycleaning?”

“Oh… no.  Could I ask you for a favour?” sheepish that the very first time you see Peli after such a long absence, you’re asking something her.

Peli’s good nature isn’t phased for even a second, “Of course!  Anything for you, love.”

Then as if some higher being heard your request before you had a chance to speak it, Paz walks through the front door of the drycleaners.  He’s just as surprised to see you as you are him, but readily leans in to give you and Katie welcoming hugs.

“Hi Lil’ Lady.  Whatcha doing here?”

You gesture to the boxes and look between Peli and Paz, “Just wanted to drop off Din’s things but…  I didn’t feel up to going to Mando’s.  Do you think I could trouble you to get these boxes to him?”

Peli looks shocked, and for a moment you wonder if it’s possible that she didn’t know that you and Din haven’t been together for over half a year now.  Paz saves you from the potentially long and awkward explanation by nodding with some sympathy, “No problem, I’ll carry them over.”

“Thank you, Paz.”

“No problem, Lil’ Lady,” Paz gives you a smile that looks regretful, maybe even sad.

You turn to go, but suddenly feel compelled to make one last request, “Please don’t tell Din you saw me?  I don’t want him thinking about me anymore.”  You say this without any malice or bitterness, though you’re not convinced it comes out that way.

When going through Din’s belongings, you were initially hard hit by the waves of sadness and grief from the loss of your relationship; but after letting the ache of your heart dull, you had surprising found comfort in a barrage of happy memories:

Din’s favourite basketball team shirt you slept in.  You had teased him mercilessly for how often he wore it, but showered him in compliments at how good he looked in those loud team colours every time.  When you explained to him what Pima cotton was and delighted in a sports shirt feeling so luxuriously soft, you noticed that Din started leaving it for you to wear for sleep – first only at his apartment, but before long, he “allowed” the shirt to migrate to your place.

That lime green sweater he wore the first time he was invited to girl’s Sunday brunch.  Bea had wanted to introduce the new guy she was dating and thought that having another boy at the table might make it less intimidating.  Din had gone and immediately clocked Gideon to be an asshole, but somehow managed to convey a polite, yet protective vibe throughout the meal.  When Bea broke up with that odious man a few weeks later, Din, invited back to brunch and coincidentally wearing the same sweater had been so supportive (“You deserve better than that self-absorbed blow hard”), even offering to “take care of him” for her.  You had quickly refused on Bea’s behalf, knowing what “take care” might actually mean, but it had cheered her up so much nonetheless.

His cozy oversized patterned jacquard cardigan that Din wore whenever it was nippier out than usual.  Large enough that it could envelope you while being worn, Din took every opportunity to do so - pressing you against his hard chest while wrapping the front around you to keep the chill away when you were out at the farmers’ market, waiting for the subway, or just standing on the sidewalk while Al finished sniffing his favourite spots.

And more – all the clothes and items you packed away had at least one memory associated with Din where he had made you feel warm, cared for, cherished.

How grateful and lucky you were that Din had loved you the way he did.

Yes, he had broken your heart, but you know that he himself didn’t get away unscathed – Din had also been destroyed by your breakup.  Having long since recognized the immature and empty things said during your last fight as your own emotional lashing out, you saw with more clarity how your own hurt and pain had sliced through Din’s already battle damage armour.  To be honest, you regret your words and how you left things with Din; though the way he did it was all wrong, Din had only ever loved you, cared for you and put you first in the way that he believed matter the most.  And he did so without fanfare, pomp or circumstance - expecting neither accolades nor acknowledgment, or even a hint of self satisfaction.

Your heart truly goes out to Din.  He so willingly carries the weight of the responsibility to take care of others, to put their well being over his own wants and desires; he sees it only as his duty and a mark of his honour to put himself last.  Din never gives himself leave to be selfish, despite being the most deserving for exactly that reason; as long as others are well taken care of, you know that Din would never complain or wish for more for himself.  And while your heart has done its share of mourning for yourself, it also breaks for Din – you know with certainty that he’s as devastated as you are, and yet, he also bears the guilt of having been the cause of your respective heartbreak; likely believing himself undeserving of any sympathy or comfort.

You remember what Boba had once said of Din, that he’s a caretaker through and through.  He attends to the needs of those around him and always has – thinking of the betterment of others, sometimes, and possibly even often, at the expense of his own.  But Din’s always done so happily - it was his duty and he performed it consistently, admirably.  And you remember that you had promised Boba that you would take care of Din right back.

Refusing to add to Din’s already heavy burden when it came to your breakup, you don’t want him to think about you more than he has to when he gets his belongings back; you know he will only spiral into more self blame wondering if you’re still mad or how much you hate him.  He will undoubtedly think about how you might be hurting, and then feel regret and guilt, disappointment or whatever else that eats at him.

So, you make Paz promise not to tell Din that he saw you, to say that Peli had called him over to get the boxes and you were already gone when he arrived.  The fierce look in your eyes tells Paz that you won’t relent and he acquiesces – you were prepared to fight him if necessary, the urge to protect Din where you still can burning brightly within your heart.

Quiet and heartfelt goodbyes are said and longer than needed hugs are dispensed before you and Katie leave Peli’s, arms now empty.  As the cab pulls away, you wave what you sadly think might be your last goodbye to two people you’ve also come to love and will miss terribly.

9 months ATN

Seeing Peli and Paz at the drycleaner’s is the last contact you have with Din’s world.

After nearly the better part of a year, it no longer feels strange that there are facets of a life you had come to embrace, that are no longer familiar - like bringing baked goods down to Mando’s, or being part of the celebratory group when a Mando’s boxer wins a title.  Making a normal portion size of garlic knots is once again the norm.

Periodically, it might feel unsettling when you remember that you are or were, at least at one time, under threat, and that there are unseen eyes on you, both friendly and unfriendly.  But you never see anyone or any actual evidence of this so there’s not much you can dwell on.  Who’s to say the circumstances of the situation haven’t changed or if you’re even on anyone’s radar anymore?  It’s likely you’ve been forgotten by now and you leave these thoughts at that.

With time, you go from thinking of Din constantly, to less frequently, and now only periodically.  You don’t think you’ll ever quite forget Din.  He had loved you fiercely, of that you were certain, and in turn, you had loved him back just as hard.  He was undoubtedly, a great love of your life.  You don’t think that type of connection is easy to find, nor would you attempt to try and do so again – the way Din had seen you so completely and how you had felt being his was not a feeling you think you’ll let go of any time soon. 

But the price for that type of love was one that you hadn’t been prepared to pay – adherence to some creed or code of honour that was willing to sacrifice your heart wasn’t something you could open yourself up to again.  Not even for that kind of love.  But it didn’t mean you couldn’t look back on it with fondness and remember Din as a man you admired adamantly and would continue to hold up as one of the best men you’ve ever known.

He was kind.  Protective.  Caring and loyal. 

The strength of his character and his generous nature live on in your grateful heart.

Some of your happiest memories will always be ones that you shared with Din.  He had, as was his highest priority, made you feel safe and cherished; despite how it all ended, you knew his motivations and the intentions of his heart to be pure - he had only ever wanted the best for you.  Din’s easy way of making you laugh, supporting you in all your endeavors and of lightening your mental and physical load, all while making you feel like the most special person in any room, were not easily forgotten.  Nor his integrity, considerate nature and the gentleness of his touch.  A lover and a fighter – Din was a rare combo indeed.

You think you’ll love Din until your dying day, but you can’t pine for him anymore.

Had you forgiven him?  Hardly.  But forgiveness wasn’t necessary. 

Forgiveness implied that you needed something to change, to be acknowledged, in order to move forward, and that just simply wasn’t the case.  You neither forgave him or were looking to forgive Din; you didn’t expect there to be a continuation of your story and so, as far as you were concerned, neither of you owed anything further to the other, including forgiveness.  You’re at peace with where the pages of your love story have permanently fallen open; having reread those finally passages a million times, you’ve worked through your grief of having to put Din and your relationship behind you - what remains is only a nostalgic sort of affection and maybe wistfulness.

Your life has gone on without him, but it had always been full before you met Din and it remains so after him: full of friends, hobbies, Alfredo, accomplishment and pride in your work, and everything else your undoubtedly privileged life has to offer.  That’s probably the best word to describe it.  These days, when you do think of Din, it can be without bitterness or disappointment, because you do so only with genuine gratitude; not everyone will have the good fortune of being loved so wholly, so generously and so fearsomely, albeit it had only been for a little while.  Yes, it takes no great effort to admit: it had been a privilege to be loved by Din Djarin.

It’s been a good day.  Great even.  All your meetings finish on time (!), and no one on your team, yourself included, had extra work assigned at the last minute – you’re all able to leave ON TIME.

Stepping out of your office building, you can’t quite believe it – you haven’t seen this side of 5:30 since… you were a junior?  No, that’s an exaggeration, but it’s been a long time for sure.

You and your colleagues exchange excited hugs, marveling at your luck; a few even joke that you should all prepare to pay for this tomorrow before laughing and each going in your separate directions.

Pausing for a moment where you stand, you contemplate maybe popping into the bookstore across the street before heading home when your eyes are drawn to a hulking figure that sits on one of the courtyard benches directly facing your office.  Despite his size and striking profile, the man’s presence isn’t terribly imposing, but it is a wonder that you hadn’t notice him until now.

You lock eyes with the man, not ready to believe he’s really there, when he gives you a tentative smile along with a small wave of the bouquet of peonies that he holds in his hand.

Din.

Thanks so much again to anyone who has read this far in the series with me - I love you all so much! Your kind words and encouragement really motivated me to finish this chapter a bit earlier than I had anticipated! I'm still on the cruise, so I'm just posting this when the ship's wifi is strong 🤣 so adding a few tags for those who have expressed an interest in the story (if you don't want to be tagged, please tell me!):

@tuquoquebrute @furiousmushroom @cheekychaos28 @72scsuze @nerdieforpedro

@toobsessedsstuff @whirlwindrider29 @inept-the-magnificent @mellymbee @that1nerd-20

@hipabbster23 @bitccchmood @bigbutchenergee @rainbowcat164 @the-strawberrythief

@johnssherlock221 @misstokyo7love @vivian-pascal @florxdexcerezo @fanficlover1414

@rarachelchel @heartbrokenlilbitch-nef @jeewrites @sunnytuliptime @kulekehe

@bebsjo @yopossum @cartonkid1200 @rav3n-pascal22

[zepskies]

One Exception

Pairing: CJ Braxton x F. Reader

Summary: Joey has invited you to a party at Pacey’s apartment, and CJ has agreed to go, despite the contentious history between him and your new friends. He doesn’t want to be the reason you miss out on a good thing, but it also means he’ll have to hide his apprehension (and his alcoholism).  

AN: Here’s the sequel to Good Morning! This story takes place in 6.14 of the show, with a little twist.

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: Mature themes, but it doesn’t really warrant an 18+ rating. Angst, alcoholism, hurt/comfort, jealousy, fluff, tinge of spice, and implied smut.

“Nice television,” CJ remarked, noting the giant monstrosity in the middle of this very loud apartment.

“See? Told you it’d be low-key,” you said.

More like high and off-key, CJ thought wryly.

Nickleback’s “How You Remind Me” was blaring. People you and CJ recognized from school were crowded in the living room around the TV, as well as milling around the kitchen with beers and solo cups, and it was pretty much a wall of sound that already grated on CJ’s ears. Pacey had to be in here somewhere too.

You squeezed CJ’s hand and gave him a sympathetic smile.

“You okay?” you asked.

He gave you a smile to hide his nerves. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He was no stranger to parties. He just didn’t often find himself going to parties where the host had once introduced his face to a brick wall.

Before he truly got to know you, CJ had a one-time unintentional fling with your (former) dorm roommate, Audrey. She’d been spiraling out of control in an alcohol-fueled depression. He’d seen a kindred spirit in her and tried to help her. He just hadn’t known that she was still sort of in a relationship with Pacey, who had a mean right hook when he wanted to.

And then there was Jen, Audrey and Joey’s best friend. CJ felt the worst for hurting her along the way, unable to reciprocate her feelings…

And, oh yeah, you still didn’t know about that last part. 

CJ silently stewed in all of this when you led him by the hand to find your friend and current dormmate, Joey.

“Hey! Glad you could make it,” she said with her wide, doe brown eyes and a too-bright smile.

You gave her a quirking look when you hugged her in greeting. She smelled like vodka and orange juice, but you’d never known Joey to go too hard in the paint with her liquor.

She gave your companion a little wave. “Hey, CJ!”

“Hey,” he nodded with a smile.

“You guys want something to drink?” she asked, gesturing to the row of liquor bottles and various chasers behind her on the kitchen counter. You internally paused for a moment, glancing at your boyfriend, but you turned back to Joey with a smile.

“Yeah, Diet Coke would be great,” you said.

CJ gave you a curious look, but he asked for the same. Joey bobbed her head before she went to pour the drinks into some plastic cups.

CJ leaned in near your ear. “Sweetheart, you’re allowed to drink. You know I’ve been to parties before.”

In fact, you and CJ had met at a club party. One where Audrey had been led up to some guy’s room while she was drunk, and CJ had all but broken down the door to get her out for you and Jen.

“I know, I just don’t feel like doing alcohol tonight,” you told him.

It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. You just didn’t want to risk making CJ even more uncomfortable than he likely already was, being near Pacey. You’d asked Joey to talk to him for you—a plea for him to not try and kill your boyfriend.

And there your esteemed host was, coming over now.

“Heyyyy, good thinking,” said Pacey. He went over to Joey’s side when she turned to hand you and CJ your drinks. He grabbed another cup to pour one for himself. 

“Hey, man,” CJ greeted politely. His hands were in his pockets, trying to mask his stiffness.

Pacey hesitated, taking note of CJ, but the beat of tension broke between the two men when Pacey graciously stuck out a hand.

“Hey. Good to see ya…not with my girlfriend,” he quipped with a smile.

CJ’s was a bit more strained, but he gave a wry chuckle along with his handshake. Joey elbowed Pacey in the ribs.

“Ah, what?” he protested. She gave him a firm look, pursing her lips. Then she turned to you and CJ with a smile.

“Hey, you guys have any whiskey?” Jen cut in, as she sidled up to Joey. “I’m not so much in a beer mood, but whiskey I could do. Maybe it’s the burn I’m craving—”

She stopped short when she saw you and CJ. Her smile thinned.

“Oh! Hey, there,” she said.

CJ offered her nod, but his insides tightened. He watched you brighten and give Jen a hug that the other woman couldn’t easily reciprocate. Jen’s eyes were on him, even while she hugged you.

You and Joey then broke off to catch up for a bit (CJ encouraged you to it), while Pacey went back to watching a football game on the mega-sized TV with Jack. CJ was about to join them when Jen’s voice stopped him.

“You guys look good together,” she said. She had a glass of whiskey in her hand and a small smile on her face. Her blonde hair was shorter now, cut just below her ears. Her black halter-style dress suited her.

But she wasn’t you.

CJ smiled more genuinely. “Thanks.”

Jen was a good person. He was still sorry that he hurt her, but he wasn’t sorry for choosing you.

You were happy to see CJ hanging out with his friend David, along with Jack and Pacey and some other guys from school. Meanwhile, you had the chance to catch up with Joey and Jen.

Maybe it would give you a chance to mend this weird rift of distance that had seemed to come between you and Jen in recent weeks.

You didn’t know where it came from, but you genuinely admired Jen as a person. She was smart, and she always spoke her mind and stuck to her principles. That was something you wish you had more of in yourself.

Now, she was a bit quiet while sipping her whiskey. Joey made up for it, with a kind of giggle-snort you'd never heard come out of her mouth before. You raised a brow, despite your smile.

"Yes, Josephine?" you teased.

"Sorry," she waved a dismissive hand. "Just remembered something. Like the fact that I really like vodka. I mean, it's clear, almost tasteless, so it's almost like drinking water, you know?"

You and Jen shared an amused look.

"Sure, that's what it's like," you said.

Joey's eyes went wide then. She leaned in close to you, leaning on your shoulder.

"Oh. Don't drink champagne though," she said, while eyeing Jen. She "whispered" loud enough to be heard over the music, and also hurt your left ear. "She once killed a girl with champagne."

Jen's mouth fell open incredulously. Your eyes went as wide as Joey's. This was some serious “girl time.”

"Wait, what?" you said.

Jen looked at her empty glass. "Well, would you look at that? Right on time."

She escaped to the kitchen to refill her tumbler, but you and Joey followed her; you out of morbid curiosity, and Joey because she too wanted more vodka than orange juice in her plastic cup.

Jen gave you a smirk as she filled up her glass.

"Don't worry, you're all safe. This is Jameson," she said.

You emitted some nervous laughter and leaned on the kitchen counter, trying to figure out where the joke was here. How the hell do you kill a girl with champagne?

“So are you sure you don’t want an actual drink?” Jen asked, gesturing at your soda.

“Oh, no. I’m fine,” you held up a dismissive hand.

“You sure?” Pacey said, coming up from behind your little group to find a beer. “I got your boyfriend a vodka soda. I can get you one too.”

Your eyes widened, though you tried to hide your alarm, smoothing your hands down your jeans.

“What?” you asked.

Pacey paused. He’d caught the surprise flitting across your face. “What?”

“Um…” Your hesitation came from trying to process information in record time. You looked over and saw CJ with David. Your boyfriend was indeed holding a different cup.

You returned your attention to Pacey. His brows were raised. Joey looked confused as well, while Jen was sipping at her own drink, in a way that hinted that she already knew what you were about to say.

“CJ doesn’t drink,” you explained.

Pacey brows popped higher. “Ah. He’s 21 though, right?”

“Yes, but he’s a recovering alcoholic,” you said with a sigh. You didn’t want to have to say that, telling CJ's business, but you didn’t know how else to explain why you were slightly freaking out.

“Oh…uh, sorry about that,” Pacey said.

“No, it’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it,” you said.

Pacey gave a wan smile and returned to the group around the TV, CJ included. You sighed and turned back to Jen and Joey.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know either,” Joey said.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” you said, shaking your said. “I’ll just check on him, if you guys don’t mind—”

Jen’s glass hit the counter, and she poured herself another whiskey on the rocks.

“By all means, check away,” she said.

“Hey, sorry man. I didn’t know,” Pacey had said to him, with a look on his face that also said:

Sorry you’re a leper. That’s rough buddy.

CJ found himself withdrawing from the rest of the guys, even as the smell of vodka wafted from the solo cup in his hand. He glanced down at it with a short sigh, but he didn’t drink it, even though his hand itched to raise the cup to his lips.

You startled him a little when your hand curled around his arm.

“Hey,” you greeted in a whisper.

“Hey,” he smiled back at you. But the worried look on your face made his smile fall.

“Wanna hang out for a bit?” you asked, nodding at a quieter looking corner of the living room.

CJ waved at David with the hand that held his cup, and he followed you over to the far side of the couch. You sat on its edge, arms crossed, while he found a seat on the sill of a large window.

You pointedly glanced at his cup. “Have you been drinking?”

CJ’s lips pursed. He took in your stance: arms crossed, shoulders tense, lips pursed, eyes deeply concerned and wary.

Are we having fun yet? he thought dryly.

“See, I’d be more inclined to answer that question if you hadn’t lured me over here under false pretenses,” he remarked. Though he did set the cup down beside him on the windowsill.

“What false pretenses?” you asked, your brows furrowing.

“You don’t want to be with me. You want to check up on me,” he pointed out. “You’re looking at me like an inmate who got loose in the psych ward.”

You frowned then. “That’s not true. I’m just wondering why you would take an alcoholic beverage from Pacey.”

“Your friend offered me a drink. It seemed rude to say no, so…” CJ glanced down at his hands in his lap. Your head tilted in concern.

“CJ…” you sighed. “Why the hell would you ruin your sobriety over something like that?”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” he replied flatly.

“Oh really?” you said. Your lips pursed in irritation.

“I just didn’t want to get into it with a stranger,” CJ said, throwing up a hand. “But thanks for telling him that I don’t drink. Now he’s apologizing to me like I’m dying or something.”

A sharper sigh fell from your lips. “I told you we didn’t have to come here. I didn’t want to make you feel pressured to—”

“Again, you know this isn’t my first house party,” he said.

“Yeah, I know it’s not. So why? Why did this happen tonight?” you asked. “For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been so disciplined with yourself. You have a set of rules, and you follow them.”

“Yeah, well, did it ever occur to you that maybe I realized that I was too strict on myself?” he said. “That maybe we wouldn’t even be together if I didn’t bend those rules?”

Your mouth fell open incredulously, a bit of anger sparking your blood. He knew he shouldn't have said that. It just kind of flew out of his mouth, immediately sparking his guilt.

“Okay,” you snipped. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t be bending those rules at all if this is where it leads.”

CJ's lips pursed. “What, because I’ve been sitting here, spending the last hour debating whether or not to take a drink?”

He gestured at the cup beside him. 

Your eyes blinked wider, with even more surprise, and a heavy dose of confusion.

“Wait, what? Are you telling me that you haven’t been drinking tonight?” you asked.

“Is that going to magically change all the conclusions you just jumped to?” CJ retorted.

You closed your eyes with a sharp, exasperated sigh. When you opened them again, you frowned at him.

“Uh, yeah!” you exclaimed. "Of course it does, CJ!"

“Well, it doesn’t work that way,” he said. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it. Fine. Just like I’ve been trying to find some normalcy with you here. But apparently you find that wildly insulting.”

He was getting wildly defensive right now. You sort of saw where he was coming from, but it was still frustrating. You held a hand to your chest as your heart raced with the force of your relief.

“Look, I’m sorry for assuming. I’m just…I was worried about you,” you said honestly. “I knew coming here might be stressful for you—”

“I can handle stress,” CJ said. “What I can’t handle is you looking at me like I’m a powder keg waiting to explode.”

You raised up placating hands as you glared at him.

“Fine,” you said. “Sorry for being concerned about my boyfriend. I’ll try to curb that behavior in the future.”

At that, CJ’s frustration and anger simmered down, swiftly followed by more guilt.

You got up and blinked quickly, like you were fighting tears as you shook your head. You aimed to get by him, but he got off the windowsill and went for your hand. There was no drunk excuse for his behavior now.

No, this one was all him.

“Hey,” he said, in a softer voice. He looked down at you with softer eyes too. He could see now that you didn’t mean to make him feel less than, like you had to watch him so he wouldn’t mess up in front of your friends. No, you were just genuinely worried about his wellbeing. 

You looked up at him warily. He held your hand more securely in his.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I am,” he said, when he noted your raised brow. “I’m really grateful that you care about me. That you’re concerned about me. But I’ve been dealing with this for a long time. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t be yourself either, even when we’re out here in the wild.”

A small smile twitched at your lips. You held his hand back.

“Out in the wild, huh?” you quirked a brow. CJ smiled back and brushed your cheek with his thumb.

“I just need you to trust me a little more,” he said.

You nodded, smiling when his forehead gently rested against yours. The ends of his hair tickled between your brows.

“Okay, I’m sorry too,” you said. “Next time I won’t be so quick on the draw.”

You leaned up for a kiss. CJ met you there, sweetly at first. Then he tilted his head and deepened the angle of his lips moving against yours.

“Ooh save that for later,” Joey said, loudly from behind you.

It made you jolt in CJ’s arms. You turned your head and met your friend with a wide-eyed look of confusion. She held an empty wine bottle in her hand and waggled mischievous brows.

“Come on, let’s play.”

You really couldn’t believe that Joey was making you all play Spin the Bottle. For you, it was the stuff of awkward middle school horror stories of the highest form. She’d roped in you and CJ, Jen, Jack, Pacey and their roommate Emma, and Gus, a gross looking guy who was apparently her "fiancé" of some sort. 

Gus took the first turn, and got creative with it—giving Joey a nice lick on the cheek.

That’s what you get for making us play this dumbass game, you thought as you laughed.

Joey ended up giving Jack a sweet kiss, followed by him and Emma sharing a little lip-lock, and even Emma and Jen giggling as they came together for a peck.

But when it was Jen’s turn, the wine bottle spun, and spun…and landed on CJ. A chorus of “ooohs” came from the others.

You felt yourself bristle internally. It’s just a game, you reminded yourself. Just a stupid, stupid game.

You patted CJ’s knee and tried to school your face into amusement.

“You’re up, babe,” you said.

He looked a bit uncomfortable when he met your eyes, and then Jen’s. She wore a smile, though she was a little absent in the eyes. She’d been pounding hard liquor pretty much all night.

“All right, CJ. Let’s get this over with,” she teased.

He let out a subtle breath through his nose, but he uncurled his arm from around you so that he could lean over to meet Jen across the circle. Instead of the light peck that he was aiming for, she surprised him by taking his face in her hands and giving him a kiss deep enough to make him taste the burn of whiskey.

He parted from her with a flinch. His eyes blinked wide. A quick glance around the circle told him he wasn’t the only one who was surprised, but you were the only one he cared about. He settled back next to you and felt guilty for your muted disbelief, even though he wasn’t the real perpetrator here.

CJ frowned hard at Jen. She just smiled and crossed her arms around her legs, head bobbing to the tune of the alt rock music playing.

“Damn, Jen,” Pacey said, laughing uncomfortably. “That’s some dedication to the game.”

You were still shocked into stillness. You knew Jen was a bit deep into the bottle, but was she really drunk enough to try and make out with your boyfriend in front of you?

Joey finally dropped her hands from her face (she’d been watching the scene through the cracks in her fingers). She gave you an apologetic look. She was very effing drunk as well, you knew, but not make out with your boyfriend in front of you—drunk.

You finally looked over at CJ, not knowing who you should be more irritated with: Jen for sticking her tongue down his throat, or CJ for letting her.

“It’s your turn, bro,” Gus said. Not that he cared about whoever CJ landed on. He just wanted the chance to kiss another one of the girls. Preferably Emma.

CJ shook his head. “I don’t think I—”

“Go ahead,” you said. Your tone was a challenge, as were your crossed arms, and the tight expression on your face. “It’s just a game, right?”

That last part, you aimed at Jen. She finally had enough self-awareness to avert her drunken gaze. Your teeth were grinding.

Though you had to pause when you realized where CJ’s spun bottle had landed: right on you.

“Aw, well that’s good,” Joey said, with a nervous laugh that broke some of the tension in this little circle.

CJ let out a subtle breath of relief himself. But this was a whole new challenge as he met your steely gaze. He tried to give you a smile.

Your eyes fell. So with a small sigh, he gently took your chin between his fingers and tilted your face up to him, just before he leaned in to kiss you.

He plied you softly at first. His lips dragged against yours in a slow, lingering kiss. Then he angled his head away from the circle, away from prying eyes as he brushed his tongue across your lower lip, seeking entrance. You inhaled deeply, and you couldn’t help but let him in.

You uncrossed your arms and found his cheek with your hand. Your fingers soon delved into his hair, nails lightly scraping the back of his neck. He barely restrained a shudder.

“Ah, okay then,” Pacey muttered.

When you parted from CJ, your heart was racing, and there was a fire in your belly that you could see reflected in his eyes.

“I’m a little thirsty, you wanna…” he trailed. You nodded and let him help you off the ground where you all had been sitting.

CJ’s arm once again wrapped around your waist, and he led you into the first bedroom he could find. The door shut against the blaring music, the sounds of laughter and stories and dumb middle school games.

Until all that was left was you and CJ, and the sounds of quick breaths, clothes hitting the floor, and skin against skin.

“I’m sorry about earlier. With the game,” CJ later said. “Jen took me by surprise.”

Much later, where you were tangled up in his arms and the sheets, both of you mostly naked and tucked under the covers. You felt bad that you didn’t even know whose bedroom this was.

Jack’s maybe? You could only hope so. That would probably be the least awkward situation if you two were caught in here.

But at CJ’s question, your blissful mood of moments before was wiped away. Your face dropped into a frown. You turned in his arms so that you could see his face, resting your head on his arm.

“Yeah, what the hell was that with Jen?” you asked.

CJ soothed a hand up and down your arm. He knew it was time for him to come clean with you, even though he knew it might make you look at him differently. He could only hope that it wouldn’t.

“Before you and I started talking, dating—well, you know what happened with me and Audrey,” he said, expelling a breath of regret. “Before then, Jen had feelings for me.”

Your eyes widened. By now you could’ve guessed that Jen wanted your boyfriend, but you had no idea it had started way back then. CJ looked you in the eyes.

“I just didn’t feel the same way,” he said. “Then Audrey and I happened, just the one night. But Jen…I know I hurt her, and I felt terrible. I still feel bad about that, because I never meant to hurt her. I just thought Audrey and I had a connection.”

“And then Pacey,” you supplied, realizing where this story was headed. A fight between Pacey and CJ. Audrey left for rehab in California. And Jen was left to nurse her wounded pride and hurt feelings…especially when you and CJ began for real.

You closed your eyes on a sigh. This explained why she’d been so frigid to you lately.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” CJ said. “I didn’t want to come between you guys, or hurt her more by pursuing another one of her friends…I just couldn’t help falling for you.”

At that admission, you softened. You caressed CJ’s cheek, and you brought him down to you for a kiss. Again, it was slow and unhurried, yet no less passionate.

Your lips parted from his first, so you could meet his eyes.

“I’ll talk to Jen,” you said. “But…I’m glad I fell for you too.”

You and CJ shared a quiet moment then, each of you processing, hands intertwined. It had you thinking about everything he said tonight, even before the game. 

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it. Fine,” he’d said. “Just like I’ve been trying to find some normalcy with you here. But apparently you find that wildly insulting.”

You sighed and squeezed his hand. It was comfortably trapped between his bare chest and yours.

“Just for the record, you don’t have to be ‘normal’ for me, or be what you think I want around my friends. Just be you,” you said, meeting his green-eyed gaze. “I do trust you, CJ. I trust that you want to be with me, and that you have a handle on yourself.”

CJ smiled ruefully. He ran his thumb across the back of your hand.

“You were right though. The truth is I did get a little nervous tonight,” he said. “Being here, seeing Pacey…it brought up all that drama again. I took that vodka soda from him, and I was thinking about drinking it.”

“But you didn’t,” you said firmly. “Because you’re strong. Stronger than anyone I know.”

CJ looked down at your hand joined with his, at your face, set with honesty and vehemence. You seemed to believe every word of what you were saying. That alone made him feel strong.

“Thanks,” he said with a smile.

It hadn’t been all that long, but he knew this felt right. It always felt right with you.

You smiled back at him and leaned up for a sweeter kiss.  

“Thank you for bending your own rules for me,” you teased.

CJ chuckled. He stroked your cheek and pressed another kiss to your forehead.

“You’re my one exception,” he said.   

AN: As frustrated as CJ made me at times, somehow he weasels his way back into my heart. 😂💗 If you enjoyed this, let me know!

Ko-Fi Me ☕

CJ Braxton Masterlist

Main Masterlist

CJ Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @roseblue373 @brianochka

@branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords 

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70

@clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy

@kmc1989 @jackles010378 @jessjad @pieandmonsters @deans-spinster-witch

@idiotdyslexic @heartlessdelusions @chriszgirl92 @peytongoose @hobby27

@waynes-multiverse @lovelyunjinn @twinkleinadiamondsky

[totaly-obsessed]

Goody-two-shoes

Katie McCabe x reader

-> Modeled after that insane Man City vs. Chelsea game. (I also have no clue how football works, please excuse mistakes)

-> Reader gets carded and doesn't quite know how to handle it - Katie is there for her

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Referees can make or break a good football game -something that everybody knows, especially when being a professional footballer. And while you did believe in said statement, it had never been more obvious than now.

Emily Heaslip, the biggest Chelsea fan on this godforsaken planet. And while you didn’t necessarily think that, your girlfriend Katie definitely did. No one thought that Heaslip would referee another WSL game, after having been escorted off the pitch by security because of how angry she had made fans, trainers, and players.

Katie, a reliable candidate for yellow cards immediately knew that she would not be playing in the game against Tottenham – or at least she wouldn’t be in the starting lineup.

It had never happened before, that not only your opponent's tactics had to be talked through, but also the tendencies of the referee. The atmosphere was tense, no one wanted to play a game where a heap of yellow cards was guaranteed.

To Katie you were the only good thing during the week, always making the brunette laugh when you noticed her getting into her head too much. And she noticed you cheering up your other teammates as well – goofing off with Kyry in the gym, telling Alessia the dumbest jokes, and making a fool out of yourself, much to Beth’s enjoyment. If the Irishwoman wasn’t absolutely in love with you already, she would have definitely fallen for you by this point.

A few players of the WSL had their reputations – Katie with her yellow cards, Millie Bright the defensive brick wall, and Rachel Daly who seemed to make every goal she wanted to. All of them were quite serious, and then there was you. With your fair playing style and a bright smile always on your face, you had earned yourself the title of ‘goody-two-shoes’.

And you relished in it.

There were not a lot of people who didn’t like you, no matter what club they supported – the ones who really did not like you tended to think, that you were faking your personality.

A lot of fans find it ironic that you had ended up with Katie, who tended to get more cards in a season than you had gotten in your entire career.

But something was off on that Sunday, everything felt wrong. While it was okay that your girlfriend wouldn’t be standing next to you in the starting lineup, it felt wrong – especially in a game against Tottenham who were currently above Arsenal in the chart.

The start of the game was hesitant, with every player on the pitch walking on eggshells. It was Ashleigh Neville who got the first yellow card in the 22nd minute of the game. Her being the first player would seem weird when looking at the statistics at the end of the game.

And while you did not, Katie noticed a shift in the game – in the referee who got redder at any little thing that she saw.

It was Caitlin who got the next card, followed by Jen, followed by Lotte. Every card that Heaslip gave seemed wrong. Carding Lotte, when Beth England had stumbled over her foot – even the Tottenham player was confused by the card. Carding Cait when she accidentally ran Kit Graham over when jogging backward.

But then came the biggest shock of the game – you got a yellow card.

Kim had been roughly pushed to the ground by a Tottenham player, and you have had enough. You protested the ref, trying to explain to her that it was indeed not an accident but a punishable action. Emily Heaslip however had none of it, swiftly pulling out that annoying, little yellow card and holding it straight to your face.

The players fell into complete silence, not believing what had just happened. It was Kim who was up on her feet again, who pulled you away, patting your back in thanks.

Katie could see how the situation was messing with your head – no one was angrier than her, and she desperately wanted Frida to run over the ref as she had done before. The brunette tried to get your attention on the sidelines, shouting words of encouragement at you. “Oi! Keep ya head up!”

A few minutes later the whistle was blown for halftime.

Nil all.

The changing room was tense – no one was having fun. Jonas tried his best to give an inspirational speech. It didn’t matter how many goals you scored, it was important not to concede. Leah was pleading with the team to get your heads sorted out so that you could enter the second half with clear minds.

Your stomach felt uneasy as if it was at war with itself. Face dripping wet over the bathroom sink, eyes swollen and red, breathing heavily, is how Katie had found you.

“You did so well my love.” A warm hand found its place on your neck – gently guiding your still-dripping face into Katie’s dry and warm shoulder, letting you calm down for a second.

“Makin’ me so proud baby.” The thick accent felt like honey in your ears, numbing your mind temporarily before having to go out again.

Being back on the pitch felt like a fever dream, your head was not really where it was supposed to be but the game had to go on.

And go on it did – not to your benefit though. In the 62nd minute, Neville pulled a not-so-nice challenge on Kyra who was lying on the ground, arms raised in protest.

Arsenal was given a free kick, and you were supposed to take it. Beth England had brought the ball back where the kick was to take place.

It took you fifteen seconds until you decided on your target, Kim, who had run herself free from her defender. Just as you were about to take it, she was covered again, so you stopped in your tracks, only to shoot a second later when you saw your captain's hand gesture.

The Scot had just gotten to the ball when the shrill sound of the whistle could be heard. Not a single player on the pitch knew why. Both teams got loud with protest when they saw another yellow card being given.

To you.

You who already had a yellow.

Everyone was shocked. Katie couldn’t believe her eyes – after the yellow card followed the red which was held directly into your poor, shocked face.

‘Time wasting’ was what Emily Heaslip shouted at you. It took Kim everything to stop the others from rioting and instead guided you to Katie. The Irishwoman was standing at the sidelines, waiting for you.

The referee resumed the game, Arsenal now being down to ten players. The whole stadium was in uproar.

Your freekick had taken twenty seconds – the average took thirty. How was this time-wasting?

Katie could feel your body shaking as she pushed you into the shower and turned it on. She waited for you just outside of the door, a fluffy towel in her arms, ready to cuddle you to death.

She understood that you didn’t want to talk, instead filling the silence with telling you everything that had happened on the bench. “- and then Manu said that-“ She couldn’t keep going, her heart broke more and more, seeing you sit in your cubby, dressed in her sweatpants and hoodie, face all red and puffy.

Tears were still making their way down your face. “Oh, baby.” With soft coos the defender tugged you up and into her chest, just to sit down with you on her lap again.

You were exhausted, still not understanding why you had gotten a red card.

One after the other the girls came into the room – the game was over.

Kim was the first person at your side, pressing a gentle kiss to your head. Mumbling a little “Proud of ya.”

The others tried to cheer you up, but it was Katie who made you laugh. Your girlfriend, ever the jokester impersonating the referee who had gotten nutmegged by Alessia during the game. “God her face is just so stupid!” You just couldn’t help but laugh, Katie’s dimples smiling at you.

The brunette knew that while it was still fresh it would hurt but you would get over it.

And so would the fans – they were enraged with both of the cards you had been given, but it seems that your title of ‘goody-two-shoes’ would remain intact, even after getting a red card.

[wileys-russo]

you look better in red II m.bright x reader

she's so fit it should be a crime you look better in red II m.bright x reader

dating a literal brick wall had its advantages, nobody could deny that least of all you.

if there was ever someone on a night out who didn't take the hint you were a happily taken woman, all it took was your girlfriend wordlessly stepping in and placing a hand on the small of your back, her towering figure normally enough to send the message.

if not she'd greet you in her thick northern accent which always made your knees buckle and reward you with a feverish kiss, and if the sheer size of her wasn't enough to send the hint to back off once she pulled away, the piercingly unimpressed glare sent a strangers way was and they'd be off without another word.

as much as you adored your girlfriend and would do anything she asked of you without so much as a second thought. there was a few days a year where that was off the table and you'd switch from lovers to fierce competitors.

and today just so happened to be one of those days.

millie was long gone from the moment you woke up, leaving you admittedly quite grumpy to find the bedsheets cold and empty, deprived of your regular morning cuddle with her.

she'd left you a note of course, explaining she was meeting some of her team mates for breakfast. but with the blonde addressing it 'dear future loser' she'd already set the tone for the rest of the day.

despite the seriousness which was to make its way between you on the pitch, she'd challenged you a light hearted bet dependent on the outcome of the game which would commence in a few hours time. and it had your lips curling into a wicked grin at the thought of what was to come after you reigned victorious.

your girlfriend playing in blue for chelsea and you in red for your beloved arsenal, the intense deep seeded rivalry between your clubs rarely ever carried across into your relationship in anything more than light hearted banter or gentle teasing.

you both made it a point to leave everything out on the pitch, much as you were both fiercely competitive your love for one another and the health and well being of your relationship held much more importance.

however that didn't stop either of you from deploying everything you had in your ammunition to try and deter the other from winning, after all when you were on the pitch you were competitors first, so what was wrong with a few harmless little distraction tactics?

so when there was only a few minutes left of what had been an exhaustively grueling match between your two clubs, the score locked 0-0, it didn't surprise you that when you lined up for a corner and with a squeeze two very familiar hands made themselves at home on your hips.

you ignored her little comments and pushed against her to try and throw her off as the much taller girls hands shamelessly roamed up your top, mumbling in your ear all the things she planned to do to you once you returned to your shared bedroom later tonight.

"fuck off millie." you grunted as your cheeks flushed red at her words, throwing your elbow into her and ramming your shoulder against her chest, yanking her hands off as katie and jen slipped in beside you, effectively using their own bodies as a barrier to stop the blonde from touching yours.

steph raising her hand she wound up for the kick and you stumbled forward as millie now backed up by jess and niamh pressed in tighter. stephs boot connecting with the ball with a loud smack you watched as it flew through the air, the huddle of bodies awaiting it to land all exploding in a flurry of movement.

unfortunately niamh got to it first, clearing it quickly as you raced back off after it, sliding in to tackle jessie who'd recieved the pass you quickly regained possesion before she could send it off to sam, flicking it left to caitlin as you sprinted off toward the goal, careful you were still onside.

"foordy!" you yelled as the girl chipped it over jess's head, her aim immaculate as the ball landed right at your feet and you were quick to side step niamh as she cursed and tried to cut in, calling for millie.

"oh you're gonna regret that later." your girlfriend growled as you easily tapped the ball through her legs, nutmegging her. "you're gonna regret it now." you grunted as your laces hit the ball sending it sailing through the air toward goal.

you'd intended it as a cross in for stina to get a head on but having hit it a little more sweetly than you first thought it hurtled through the air and past an unsuspecting zecira, swooshing beautifully as it crashed into the net behind her.

you let out an elated cry of victory as the spectators roared and you sprinted off with your hands in the air, quickly taken off your feet by katie who spun you around, the rest of your team mates huddling together as your hair was ruffled and your back pat, praise raining down as you broke apart from their hugs, the chelsea girls already waiting eagerly to kick off.

the game quickly became aggressive as it ticked over into injury time and you found yourself taken to the ground again and again. as you attempted to intercept a cross, a sea of blue surged at you and your back thudded against the ground.

you hissed in pain as you felt studs stab into your thigh, red and blue shirts collapsing on top of you in an ugly pile up as the final whistle blew and the chelsea players helped one another up.

"sorry." niamh winced as she held out her hand, biting her lip guiltily as she looked to the fresh stud marks in your leg, a few specks of blood drawn and a very ugly bruise already forming.

"that one felt personal niamhy i can't lie." you chuckled with a groan of pain as you pressed at the tender skin, katie slipping her arm around your waist and helping you up as niamh apologised again and you waved her off.

the two of you had known one another since the under 17's, and you knew she meant nothing by it as you assured her it was okay. you caught your girlfriends concerned gaze sent your way, knowing if she hadn't been dragged off for a post match interview it would be her arms around you instead of katies.

you mouthed that you were okay and gave her a nod which she returned, turning back to the interviewer as katie carefully helped you sit down on the bench, the medics looking you over.

it didn't take them long to patch you up and before you knew it you were showered and changed, one of the last ones to leave the change room which was standard practice.

"dear god woman what the hell did you do in there? wash every crevice twice and practice your entire skin care routine?" your girlfriend groaned, having been lingering outside waiting for you for well over a half am hour now.

"no just half my regular routine!" you quipped back with a smile, pecking her on the lips as she was quick to take your bag off you, slinging it effortlessly over your shoulder as the two of you made your way out of the stadium toward your car.

it having been a home game for you meant the chelsea girls were long gone on their own bus, but you having driven meant millie stuck around to get a lift back.

"well well well, isn't this a change of events." you grinned as she climbed into the passenger seat, quite the opposite to your normal routine where she insisted on being the driver.

"my little passenger princess is all grown up." millie wiped away a few fake tears mockingly as you halfheartedly punched her shoulder and started up the ignition. "now you remember your lefts and rights yeah baby?" millie pouted mockingly, holding up her hands in two L's.

"keep those there would you? they suit you, loser." you grinned, revving the engine as the teasing look was wiped from the taller blondes face entirely and she slumped into her seat.

"what was that your note said this morning? dear future winner?" "christ are you going to be this insufferable all night?" "oh no no no, i'm ready to be impressed. don't forget our little bet my love."

~

"baby i am not coming out wearing this!" millie yelled from the bathroom with a loud groan of annoyance. "a bets a bet bright!" you yelled back from where you lay down on your shared bed, scrolling through tiktok as you awaited your girlfriend to pull through on her punishment for losing.

it was the day after the match and given you both had it off and had absolutely no plans, obligations or commitments, it was a perfect time for you to cash in on the bet your girlfriend had proposed, stupidly assuming she would be in your current position.

"it's too small! you're that fucking short. have you not got another one?" millie swore with a huff and you heard her rummaging around for something. "nope. this was your idea babe, should have thought ahead!" you laughed with a shake of your head.

"and i am not that short you're just a tree of a woman."

"i'm getting older by the second here millie!" you yelled out impatiently, shuffling up into a seated position as you made a point to sigh very loudly and very dramatically. "shut up!" your girlfriend roared from behind the door, a loud thud signally she'd thrown something at it.

"the deal was an entire day and you've already wasted half of that mills. hurry up!" you groaned, head thumping back against the headboard as finally a click sounded and the door cracked open slightly. "come on now, all the way out!" you coaxed her like you would a dog or a small child, her tattooed arm poking out and flipping you off.

though when the door did finally open and she stepped out in all her glory your phone fell to the bed and the corners of your mouth began to twitch. "don't you dare." your girlfriend warned as sternly as she could but it was lost on you as you exploded into laughter, dropping back down on the bed and clutching your stomach.

"god you're the worst!" the blonde whined, grabbing one of her trainers off the floor and lobbing it at you as it smacked you in the back. "ow! need i remind that this was your idea." you managed to get out among your relentless laughter.

your girlfriend had issued the bet whoever was the loser yesterday had to spend an entire day in the winners kit, and the winner would be in charge of whatever they did in that kit for the day.

and so stood before you was your girlfriend, kitted out in arsenal red.

with you being just over half the height of your well built girlfriend, your shorts looked like briefs on her and your jersey stopped just above her bellybutton, her strong arms almost busting out of the ill fitted sleeves, the lack of material leaving her well toned thighs and abs out for you to admire.

"right you got your laugh, i'm changin." the defender announced as you bolted upright. "oh no you're not! a bets a bet. i'm in charge and i didn't say you could change." you smiled smugly, the blondes scowl deepening at your words.

"you're so paying for this later." millie mumbled with a small pout, crossing her arms over her chest as your eyes shamelessly and hungrily roamed her body.

"i feel like a broken record but once again might i remind...this was your idea. not my fault you didn't account for uh, losing the bet!"

~

sundays normally the day the two of you caught up on your life admin had meant you'd turned the tall girl into your personal housewife for the day, adoring watching her complete everyday tasks in the barely fitting uniform, your last name displayed proudly across her broad shoulders.

"oh that looks lovely baby, good job!" you grinned, cheekily smacking her on the bum as you walked past where she was wiping down the kitchen counter. "oi!" the blonde yelled after you as you disappeared into the laundry.

unloading the washer and placing yours and millies clothes into the dryer you peered just out of the door frame. your lips curled into a smile seeing her humming and dancing along to the music playing from her speaker as she continued to wipe down the kitchen.

slipping your phone out of your pocket you subtly took a video of her and posted it to your close friends story, full well knowing a handful of her chelsea teammates would see it as well as most of the national team girls.

"you're enjoyin this too much." millie sighed as you pulled yourself to sit up on the counter a few hours later, the blonde busied hurrying around the kitchen making dinner for the two of you, still wearing your incredibly poor fitting kit.

"can you blame me? you look good." you whistled with a cheeky grin as your eyes drunk her in, your foot colliding with her bum as the taller girl turned and quickly smacked your thigh with the wooden spoon.

"millie!" you hissed as she'd collected you right where the stud marks from yesterday were still tender, the defender sending you a guilty smile. "sorry baby, that was harsh." she moved to stand in between your legs, bending down to press a few soft kisses to the bruise in apology.

despite you being sat up on the counter, with your height difference it meant the girl still stood just taller than you. "i think my lips deserve an apology too." you smiled innocently, tapping them expectantly.

"well, if i must." millie sighed before grinning and leaning in, rewarding you with a sweet but passionate kiss before she pulled away, hurrying back over to keep a careful eye on dinner as you hopped down to set the table.

"baby you posted me on your story?!"

~

you sighed in defeat as you looked yourself over in the mirror, smoothing out the blue kit and shuddering in disgust at the oppositions crest which sat above your heart.

given the fact that really your girlfriend had been a good sport all day, and put up with your relentless ribbing with very minimal remarks back, you decided she deserved somewhat of a reward.

especially with just how much shit sam and guro had given her for what you posted on your story, which you were certain you'd continue to hear about over the next few days.

so here you stood in her chelsea jersey, her last name plastered across your back and given the fact it hung over your smaller frame like a dress, nothing bar some lacy underwear on beneath it.

"baby do we have plans next weekend? rach wants to have a lads day on sun-" the blondes words dried up in her mouth as her eyes flickered up from her phone and you stepped out from the bathroom.

"thought you deserved a little reward for being such a good sport today love, but don't get used to it." you sent her a smile, her phone dropping to the bed as she watched on with wide eyes.

"jesus christ i've dreamed of this." millie whistled, sucking her bottom lip in between her teeth as her eyes glazed over with lust, and it was true, she had dreamed of this in many possible situations.

"aih go on and pose for us then darlin. i'd like to commemorate this moment!" your girlfriend grinned wickedly, grabbing her phone and shuffling to the end of the bed, snapping pictures of you as you stared at her bluntly and flipped her off.

"ah yes! give it to me! be sexy, be sultry, you're turning me on honey." millie yelled in a goofy voice as she continued to snap pictures as you rolled your eyes, clearing the distance between you two and smacking her phone out of her hand.

"come here then sexy." the blondes hands found your hips pulling you up and onto the bed, moving to lay down and tugging you to sit on top of her. "hello girls." millie smirked, slipping her hands under the bright blue jersey and abruptly squeezing your boobs.

"oh i hate when you talk to them, please no!" you withheld a moan as her large hands kneaded away at your chest, one moving to cup the back of your neck, forcing your head downwards toward hers and hungrily connecting your lips.

"you had your turn at being in charge, my turn now baby." the blonde mumbled into the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip before she sucked on your tongue earning herself a moan and you shifted on top of her.

you pulled away and moved your lips to her neck instead, peppering feather light kisses down the collumn of her throat as she sighed in pleasure, pushing your head deeper into her neck, hand still firmly on the back of yours meaning she was in control of when you pulled away.

however the moment was rudely interrupted by an alarm on millies phone going off, causing you to jump in shock as she reached out, fumbling blindly in the duvet till she located it, eyes scanning the screen.

you assumed she would just switch it off and toss it away, secretly hoping she'd follow through on some of the dirty things she'd whispered in your ear at the game yesterday, after all she was a woman of her word.

so it was to your shock when her hands instead settled themselves on your thighs and you could tell from the look in her eyes whatever she was about to say you weren't going to like.

"baby. as much as i love doing this with you, especially in my fucking kit. love islands on in five." millie smiled sheepishly as you properly sat up now, hands on hips and staring down at her in disbelief.

"are you seriously saying you'd rather watch tv than have sex with me right now?" "no babe i just... well yeah its the final week! theres only three episodes left."

"oh god fine. you call rach, i'll go get your usual snacks." you gave up with a sigh, flopping off of her and rolling across the bed, standing to your feet. "hey hey hey." the blonde hurried to wrap her tattooed arms around you.

"thats not to say we can't continue this afterwards." she smiled charmingly as you flicked at her forehead and hummed. "if you're lucky." you poked your tongue out, sneaking out of her hold and headed for the door.

"god you look even better from behind in blue." millie smirked, laying down with her hands behind her head as you chuckled.

"yeah? well you look better in red."

[anama-cara]

Take care

Boston Era!Joel Miller x you

Part 2

Summary: You're a nurse working in the Boston QZ and when a handsome new patient comes in you just can't help yourself. Word count: 1.4k

Warnings:  Dead Dove Do Not Eat, +18 minors dni, handjob, somnophilia, noncon. reader has no physical descriptions such as skin color or body type

You fucking hate it here- you hate Boston, hate FEDRA, hate your job, hate the world, hate your life. You need some excitement, something new. You're working as a nurse in a dirty QZ hospital. It's such a fucking joke. The hospital (if you can even really call it that) looks like an abandoned building. The lights flicker, the glass windows are shattered, the floor is always covered in grime, some of the brick walls are even crumbling in the front. Whenever a surgery needs to be done they just dip the instruments in a bucket of alcohol, theres no such thing as a sterile procedure anymore. There aren't enough supplies or staff left to properly function as a real hospital. There are only a few doctors for a ton of patients, some people that come in don't even get seen by a doctor. So that's where you come in, the nurses. You aren't even an actual nurse, you've never been formally trained. Before the outbreak you were a radiology tech, and once the QZ was set up they went around asking for anyone who was in the medical field. You volunteered, but you had no idea it'd be for a job like this. They just threw you to the wolves and over the years you've improvised and learned what works. It was messy in the beginning, you were scrambling and scared and had breakdowns almost daily. But now you feel like a hardened nurse, numb to most things. 

You're sitting in the "break room" munching on some jerky and absentmindedly kicking at a smudge mark on the ground with your boot. 

There's a flurry of commotion the hallway and the door flies open. 

"Jen?"

Your friend pokes her head in. "Oh good you're here, come on, we've got an intake. Male in late 40s, early 50s. Stab wound. "

"Is the doc coming to take a look?"

"Nope. Busy. It's on you."

"Me? He's not my patient and I'm supposed to be on break."

She laughs. "Yeah sorry. I would. You know I would. But my plate is full. I got a gun shot wound that's infected that's taking all my time. I wouldn't throw you this one if I didn't know you can handle it."

"Of course Jen. I got your back." You're following her down the hall rushing towards the emergency entrance.

"Thanks. Two guys brought him in." She nods to a room at the end of the hall on the left. 

"OK thanks Jen." You give her a nod and head towards your newest patient as she bustles down the corridor. 

"Hello I'm- shit." This is the kinda shit you're getting sick and tired of. The men just dumped him and left. Your patient is fully unconscious, laying flat on his back on the exam table, wound still bleeding. This guy needs a doctor, but you're all there is. You sprint for the supplies closet, grabbing alcohol wipes, gauze and suturing materials. With your arms full you rush back to the room. Good thing he's unconscious, you think, because this is going to hurt and the hospital ran out of pain meds long ago. 

You tug and rip his flannel shirt open, making the buttons pop off. You're tearing open packets of gauze and trying to clean his wound so you can get a good look at the entry point. Finally after wiping away the dried and fresh blood you get a clean view. You begin disinfecting. There's an open gash about four inches long running underneath his ribs on the right side.

You blow out a deep breath, pull up a chair and get to work closing the laceration. 

--

An hour later you push yourself up, set your instruments aside, wipe the sweat from your brow and look over the stitches. Given the circumstances its looks pretty darn good, you're actually proud of yourself. 

You look your patient over, eyes moving past his wound and taking him wholly in for the first time. 

He's probably in his early 50s, patchy graying beard, tan skin, ruffled hair. His flannel shirt you ripped open reveals his hard chest and soft tummy. You study his sleeping face, the creases in his brow and the hard angles of his jaw and nose. He's undeniably handsome.

You notice the blood on his flannel and you sigh as you stand up from your stool. You stretch, back aching after leaning over him to sew his wound. You reach for his flannel and begin tugging his limp arms out of the sleeves. You pull the bloody shirt out from underneath him and toss it on a nearby table. His arms are muscular and you notice a few scars here and there. Your hand reaches out on its own accord to lightly trace over a jagged white line on his bicep. He twitches at your touch and your hand quickly pulls away. 

You move down to his jeans. After unbuckling his belt you slowly pull them down, trying to be as gentle as possible. Now that the immediate danger of the bleeding stab wound has been dealt with you need to do a physical exam and make sure he has no injuries elsewhere. You toss his pants on the table and walk back to your patient, examining every inch of his beautifully tanned skin. You can get him a hospital gown later. Your hand traces up his leg and you watch it as it moves over his dark hair, over his knee and rests on his thigh at the edge of his boxers. You shift your gaze higher and to your surprise you see his hardened bulge pushing against his boxers. You gulp and your hand lightly glides up and down his inner thigh, tracing along his muscle. You shoot a glance up to his face - he's still out. You look at the closed door and try to listen. You don't hear anyone in the hallway. The only other nurse on duty in your unit of the hospital is Jen and she's definitely still occupied with that gunshot wound...

You reach up and with one hand you pull the waistband and his boxers out while your other hand slips underneath, wrapping around his hard cock. His cock twitches when you first touch him and you smile. You slowly move your hand all the way down, feeling the full length of him. Damn he's got a nice one. You swallow the spit that's pooling in your mouth. You drag your hand back up and your thumb runs through his slit and circles around the head. You look at Joel's face again. He's still completely out but you think his brow looks more furrowed and his mouth a little more opened. You continue to gaze up at him as you twirl around his head, feeling precum beginning to bead at his tip. You swipe and gather it on your index finger before popping it in your mouth. Salty and warm and deliciously masculine. You pull your finger out and hold up your hand as you tounge it, licking your palm and fingers.

Your grab his cock again, pumping him faster now as your hand glides over his warm smooth skin. You hum to yourself as you work. 

Minutes later and you feel him tightening. You quickly grab a cloth from the table and tuck it under his boxers just in time. He erupts under your hand, ribbons of messy cum spilling into the cloth. When he's done your pull the cloth out and wrap it up neatly, keeping everything it caught tucked into the middle. Joel's eyelids flutter and he makes a groaning noise. He'll be waking up soon. You place the dirty cloth in the laundry bag and step into the hallway to grab a patient gown from the clean linen cart. You wash off your sticky hand and quickly dress him. You're tidying up your instruments when Joel finally wakes up, groaning as he tries to sit. 

"Woah mister careful, you got a pretty good gash in your abdomen there. Easy. Just relax. You're in the hospital now. I'll take good care of you." 

You smile pleasantly at him. 

[tellmeallaboutit]

knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)Chapter 10, In Which You Get A Warning (Received Loud and Clear)

AO3

"…Our sincerest apologies for the unexpected delay…” 

“….We kindly request that you approach the office for guidance and help if you are lost and unsure where to go…” 

"…The next station is..."

“….regarding any missed connections…" 

"...Terminal station. We urge all passengers to disembark before it’s too late…" 

****

If someone asked you how you got home, you couldn't really say. Half the time you slept on the train, half the time you waited in some dingy station for your missed connection, and half the time (can you still count?) you tried not to look at your phone, not to look at the billboards, not to look at the faces of the people next to you - God knows you don't want to see any more infernal creatures or Twin Peaks cameos. 

Raul called you ten more times and then stopped, about two hours ago, and his silence was even more frightening than his insistence.

Although you often dreamed of your hometown, you never really enjoyed returning to it. The journey itself was a painful ordeal - a train, then a bus, followed by a twenty-minute walk. Besides, you always felt...

Somehow lost in time and space there. The world moved on to the information age, but the town never did. A good two thirds of the population still went to St Martin's Church (the main and only attraction within a thirty kilometre radius) and the other third were Protestants. 

Your mother's house was in the shitty part of town that was becoming a little more decent with gentrification, but it was still a pain to get there without a driving licence (you'd promised to get one since you were eighteen and never got around to it). 

Then you saw it; the house you grew up in, the jaundice-yellow bricks, the Catholic cross above the door, the inscription 20+C+M+B+24 scattered across its facade, two rose beds, the old school garden gnome and, in the narrow driveway…

A red Lamborghini. Further down the road, two armoured jeeps (much too large for the driveway, and thus rudely obstructing the narrow cobbled street).

How did he...

How did he know who your mother was? Where she lived?

You must call the police. 

No, you don't. Don't be absurd.

Take a breath.

What the hell are the police going to do?

Wait. Yes, of course Raul knows where she lives. You made a transfer. A large transfer from Raul's account to Franziska Berger's. Your mother has an account at the local savings bank. It should have been easy from there.

How did he know you would go to her?!

He knows you have nowhere else to go.

And if he didn’t, Raphael for sure did.

No, not your mum. Not your mum. That's just a dirty fucking game, that's against the rules. Not. Your. Mum. 

She did nothing at all.

“Ms Berger!" a voice thundered, and you had to swallow down the fear that begged you to bolt back down the street.

Yurgir was sprawled across the steps, his hulking mass barricading your path to the front porch and door. He gave you a little greeting wave. He obviously could not enter the house: not because of the inscription on the door, but because he could not physically fit through the doorway. 

You thought of nothing better than to wave back. "You took your sweet time getting here, Ms Berger!" Yurgir said, chomping down on one of those apple puffs that your mum always baked when you were due for a visit. 

There were pastry flakes all around him already.

Jens was there too. He flicked a lazy salute in your direction, his tail mirroring his hand. You stared at him. The only thing scarier than a cambion with a pistol strapped to his belt was a cambion with a pistol strapped to his belt who had also spent five years in Syria and was munching on your mum’s apple puff.

Your poor mum must have been petrified to see these creatures at her door.

"My train was late," you forced yourself to say. "I missed my connection because of it, and then the other one was late too."

You had no idea why you apologised for being late for an appointment you never fucking made.

Yurgir scoffed and shook his head with a grunt. "The world has gone to hell in a handbasket, Ms Berger. In my day the trains..."

Jens cut Yurgir off before he could continue with his nostalgic tangents. "You could have called us from the station, Ms Berger. We tried to reach you. Repeatedly. Something with your phone?"

He scratched the bridge of his nose with his claw, and you noticed that he was obviously married. There are some very brave women in this world.

You, on the other hand, were not.

"Out of charge", you said, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably. “Don't worry. I like trains”.

"I'm sorry I missed you back at your place, Mrs Berger. I could have taken you to your mother's right away," Jens said, tail swishing, his yellow-red eyes never leaving you. "Won't happen again, I assure you."

You felt a desperate urge to take your mum's puff away from Jens, because he certainly didn't deserve it. 

"Is Raul inside?" Your voice wavered slightly at the mention of his name. "With my mum? Is she... is she OK?"

Please.

Jens flashed a grin while Yurgir looked at you with what might have been sympathy or pity - it was hard to tell.

"Ms Berger," he said in what must have been his gentlest voice, "I've been on Mr. D'Avergni's payroll since I got out of the slammer, and let me tell ya - despite all the bullshit people say about him, he's a good guy. One of the few left in this screwed up world."

You wondered if by 'good', he meant by maximum security prison standards because that's where you assumed Yurgir had done time. 

Hopefully Nessa had no real-life equivalent because zoophilia is definitely where you draw the line.

You hoped you could still draw them.  

"No matter what tiffs you two have had, he ain't the type to lay a hand on your mother or you," Yurgir said. "Trust me, I seen plenty of dames come and go in his life, but none of them had him wrapped around their finger like you do."

Jens let out a small scoff; either didn't appreciate the message or disagreed with it.

"I'm flattered," was all you could muster. 

You noticed that your neighbour from the house on the left was staring at the scene from her kitchen window. Miss Braun, was it? Newly widowed and bored out of her mind. Oh, she was having a hell of a day already. 

"You should be," Yurgir agreed heartily, glad to have imparted some wisdom to you. "There's a whole line of gals like you dying for his attention."

"Can I go see my mum, please?" you asked, hating how your voice sounded so childish. 

But there was no way around it - literally - with Yurgir blocking the way. He sighed and shifted slightly to the side, leaving just enough space for you to squeeze through (you fought back the dark urge to reach out and touch his horns). As you passed by, you caught Jens' reflection in the glass door; he was twirling a clawed finger around his temple and mouthing "cuckoo" at Yurgir.

It bothered you less than it should have.

***

The kitchen was pure chaos, thanks to your mother, who had become a one-woman cooking show. She was taking something out of the oven and shoving something else into it at the same time, all while making sure Raul’s cup of coffee was filled to the brim. 

Raul was sitting on the same kitchen table where you used to eat your cereal before school. His coffee was served in your mother's special guest cup (the finest porcelain with little angels on it, usually secured to collect dust in the cabinet), an array of apple puffs on a large plate, accompanied by fresh milk and an apple saucer. An absurdly large bouquet of pink tulips and carnations (must be his gift, your mother would have never bought something so over the top) formed the centrepiece.

"Anya!" Your mother exclaimed as soon as she spotted you and wrapped you in a tight hug. "Anya! Finally! My goodness, could you please charge your phone once in your life? Raul tried to call you God knows how many times! Christ!"

You were momentarily stunned, trying to decipher how you'd become the villain here.

"I'm sorry, Mom," you apologised. "And good morning, Raul. I didn't… I didn’t think to see you here."

He gave you a tight-lipped smile. He looked immaculate, for he must have slept three hours at most; decked out in a beige cashmere turtleneck and navy slacks, his chestnut hair slicked back. He looked perfectly human; more human than he ever did.

"Good morning, piccola," Raul said after taking a bite. "I certainly didn't expect to find myself here either. Not that I am complaining - Mrs Berger, as God is my witness - I've never had better apple puffs, and I've been to the best patisseries in the world."

"Franziska," your mother twittered, pushing a plate with two more puffs towards him. "These are Anya's favourite. I make them every time she finally decides to grace me with her presence. Just apples, sugar, dough, and cinnamon... Simple and budget-friendly. We had to be frugal when she was little..."

You had to be frugal when you grew up as well. 

"Well, that's all behind us now, Mrs. Berger," Raul said. "You have my word." 

Your mother blushed and muttered something along the lines of "oh, oh, don't be absurd, we're not in need of anything."

What a fucking nightmare. At least she didn't seem scared even though she damn well should be.

"Had I known you were visiting, Raul," your mother prattled on, "I would have prepared something special. And cleaned up, good Lord, the mess you had to see in here!"

You could eat off your mother's floor. She grabbed a brush and began furiously scrubbing away nonexistent dust from the floor.

"No need for that, Franziska," Raul interjected. "It's pristine here. Had I known I'd have to meet you today, I would've been more formal rather than barging in uninvited. How terribly impolite of me."

Your mom giggled again; you wouldn't be surprised if she asked him to call her Franzi next. She even seemed younger in Raul's presence. They were the same age, the two of them. They could have been your mum and dad.

You shuddered at the thought. 

“You truly have a house of God here, Franziska”, Raul mused, staring at the altar at the wall; Crucifix, Pieta statue, the rosary book, the prayer candles (lit, for your sake, it must be). Not really helping, mum.

"Oh, I'm afraid He was always the only man in this house," your mother quipped. "The only one to protect us."

Raul chuckled in response. "Not anymore. Funny enough, Anya told me she wasn't religious."

He could have as well put a hit mark on your forehead.

“Anya, I worried myself sick because of you!”, your mother flared up.”Raul said that you stormed out in the middle of the night for no reason! Do you know what could have happened to you? Do you even watch the news? There are so many dangerous people out there nowadays!”

Raul remained silent, taking a bite from his apple puff pastry while his eyes stayed locked onto you.

“A lot of dangerous people out there”, you admitted.

"I assumed there wasn't any particular reason," Raul murmured as he stared you down, “I wasn’t given an opportunity to clarify, unfortunately. And if there was some valid reason behind it all, I wanted to offer my sincere apologies and rectify the situation.”

That was not what his last text message sounded like.

Your mum shot you a look that screamed "Isn't he just wonderful?" before hurrying off to fetch another batch of apple puffs from the oven. It seemed like she was cooking enough food to feed Raul's entire crew, judging by the size of that stew pot.

“Could we have a moment in private, Anya?”, Raul asked, and you felt a cold chill creep up your spine. You took an instinctive step back and remembered that Yurgir and Jens were outside. “If you allow, Franziska. I don’t want to overstep”.

She was not even looking at the two of you, she was adding salt and vinegar to the pot.

“Of course! I’ll go check with the boys and leave you two to talk things through”, your mum smiled. “Anya, darling, I tidied up your room. It’s all guest-ready!”.

Outside, "the boys" were smoking and laughing about something. You remember a “no boys allowed” rule for your room, and for the first time in your life, you wouldn’t have minded it. 

“Anya, remember: adults talk to each other, they do not slam doors and run away.”, your mum whispered as she brushed past you. “And for God’s sake, did you comb your hair today at all? Why are you wearing mismatched socks? Anya.”

“Socks?! Who the hell even…”

“Tut, Anya, don’t be rude to your mother”, Raul (or was it Raphael? Please, let it be Raphael. Tut was such a Raphael thing to say) chided, gently pushing you towards the stairs. Your room was located upstairs, and you couldn't help but wonder if your mother had given him a tour of the house. “Lead me to your room. I’m very eager to hear all about your late-night adventures."

Oh, fuck.

you don’t work for Interpol you don’t work for them you have no idea about anything you did fucking nothing

You quickly climbed up, feeling him follow you every step. He didn't utter a word until you swung open the door to your room.

It was far from being guest-ready; hell, even you weren't ready for it. 

Albert Wesker glared down from his poster above your bed, sunglasses and all; Mr. Bubbles lay sprawled on faded pink sheets - where on earth did your mother find those? Books on the shelves, one worse than another: The Mortal Instruments, A Court of Thorns and Roses, The Hunger Games. Oh, thank God, Kafka’s Metamorphosis (your A-Levels literature exam demanded his presence). A photo of you in Alice: Madness returns cosplay (looking back now, it wasn't the greatest quality cosplay). JoJo poster (JOJO POSTER?! Why did your mom even let you hang that up?). Oh yes, your mum tried to mitigate the horrors in the room with the cross on the wall.

You closed your eyes shut. 

Guest-fucking-ready. Fucking disgrace. Raul might as well kill you now, so you don’t have to live with this memory.

"How… charming," Raul's gaze raked over every mortifying detail with a predatory interest. "Who's the tough guy on the wall? Should I be worried?"

If Albert Wesker was to ever make an appearance, you vowed to swallow a bullet right then and there.

"No," you choked out. "Not the one you should worry about."

 Raul walked towards the bed (took him two steps), picking up Mr. Bubbles and giving him a twirl. 

You fought to keep your breathing steady, and you were losing the fight. The room felt claustrophobic, like a bargain bin flower scented death trap.

You did not work for Interpol. You did nothing for Interpol. You just went home for a little break. That’s your whole story. Repeat: you did not work for Interpol…

You desperately wanted to call out for Raphael - some form of help or protection - but you couldn’t bring yourself to call Raul by Raphael's name.

"Raul, please," your voice barely audible, "Don't harm my mum. I swear on my life I'm not with Interpol. This is all just a..."

"...Coincidence. Right. One coincidence after another”. Raul interrupted curtly as he gently placed Mr Bubbles back onto the bed. "Anya, take a seat."

“I can explain, I swear to God…”

"Sit down, I said," he ordered again; his tone brooked no argument.

Your body betrayed you, responding instinctively to Raphael's commanding voice, like Pavlov’s dog to a bell. With no sofa available, you perched on the edge of your bed with Raul looming above you with his arms crossed.

"Anya. Stop looking at me like I'm about to dice you and your mother up for a stew."

His words, his tone, his clenched jaw did nothing to alleviate your terror; the very opposite, they did their best to freak the shit out of you.

Before you could gather some response, he continued: “What have I done to deserve this fear from you, Anya? Have I ever given you a reason?”

You flinched as you rubbed at the red bruises on your neck, hidden under a thick scarf. Was he bloody serious? He’d given you more than a couple of reasons. 

“Ah,” he sighed. “I see. Last night. Even if I may have… if things may have gotten a bit too intense, it was you who begged for me to do anything I wanted. So don't hit me with this 'MeToo’ crap now. Did you or did you not say those exact words, Anya? I don’t need a stop word, I want you to fuck me?”.

"I...I did," you said slowly. "I guess? But…”

"You guess." He parroted back. “Ever thought about owning up to your actions?”

You cowered even further into the wall.

"Did you?” Your voice turned hoarse. “Your text yesterday: 'You owe me an explanation and it better be damn good.' Then you wonder why I'm terrified of you? For all I know, you get off on me fearing you. Because I am no fucking match for you, or your money, or your power. And you know that. And you like that."

He damn sure liked that, leering all over you terrified in the corner like that. 

Raul fell silent, his expression unreadable for a moment before he finally spoke up.

"The text had its reasons," he said. "I could not understand why you... ran off from my place when we were getting along so well. Then I discovered who was coming over to yours. Then you ignored me. Repeatedly”.

He walked over to the window, running a hand through his hair. He paused for a moment before speaking again.

"I felt betrayed, Anya," he confessed, the words obviously costing him. “Believe me, it takes a lot to wound me. But you managed.”

“I don’t work for Interpol, I told you”, you repeated. “I told them to fuck off”.

Raul stared at the back garden for a while.

"I know," he said quietly. "We would be having a very different conversation otherwise. A very different one indeed."

You breathed out for what felt like the first time since you entered the house. 

“I have an insider in HQ”, Raul said. “I was informed that you told them – in very plain and harsh terms - you would never conspire against me”.

“I wouldn’t”, you breathed out. “I wouldn’t, of course I wouldn’t, not ever, what did you think?”.

Raul's expression softened slightly as he turned to face you once again.

“And why is that?”, he asked. “Because you fear me? Or because you actually have feelings for me?”

Now, Anya, focus: don’t say anything stupid and don’t do anything unhinged.

“Can’t it be a little of both?” you suggested.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Raul's lips before disappearing just as quickly.

“And why do you fear me more than Interpol?” he mused as he walked back towards you. “I am a corporate lawyer for all you know”.

"I'm not stupid, Raul."

"Indeed, you're not," he replied. "You're astonishingly well-informed.”

“Interpol wouldn't send a commando of armed men to my mother's house."

"For my protection, not to intimidate you," Raul laughed off the accusation. “Unless you seriously think I need a full-blown commando team to subdue you. On that note… Mind if I join you?”

Without waiting for your permission, he plopped down next to you on your bed, the pale pink sheets crinkling under his weight. His knee brushed against yours in what seemed like a casual accident.

“Gattina,” he prodded gently, laying his hand on your knee and giving it a light squeeze. “Enlighten me. What did you do to that Interpol team? They were left disarrayed, or so I heard. How did you manage that?”

Do not say anything unhinged, Anya.

“I don’t know”, you said. “I honestly don’t know. They just… ran”.

Raul looked at you, and his hand reached out to gently cup your cheek. His breath smelled like sugar mint and cinnamon and applesauce, with just a hint of tobacco somewhere in the background.

“Come on, love”, Raul said softly. “A little honesty. Do you really not know what happened there?”

“I don’t fully understand what happened there, let’s put it this way”.

“Let me help you”, Raul said. “I might have an idea”.

“Yeah?”, you asked, thoroughly relieved that he had cooked some wild theory himself.

“You have… a talent, Anya”, he said. “An uncanny ability to sway people; it's like you have them under your spell. First with Konstantin, now with the squad, and before that... with me. I didn’t find you in my bed, and I felt like… I felt like my world was going to end. I cancelled all my meetings, I took a day off work – I… truly do not know how to describe that to you”.

Then he kissed you, his lips pressing against yours, softly first, more insistently when you yielded and opened your mouth for his tongue, and you didn't resist because, well, it seemed like a really stupid idea, and you didn't want him to get angry again, and it wasn't a bad kiss at all.

“I mean it when I say that I love you”, he whispered in your ear, now lying almost completely on top of you. "And for once in my life," he added quietly, "I think I truly mean it."

Maybe Raphael had taken over him now. 

Maybe these were Raphael's words spoken through Raul.

Either way, it was the nicest he or Raphael had ever been to you, and you wanted it to stay that way while you tried to figure out... what to do next. 

“What I know is that there is something very, very special in you”, Raul whispered against your lips. “One of a kind.”.

Special. One of a kind.

There was never anything special about the teenage girl sleeping in this bed. At least you didn’t see that, and never believed anyone ever would. 

Yet the devil did think you are special enough.

“And I do think you feel something for me, too”, Raul went on, his fingers caressing your cheek. “Despite you having this idea of me as some scary, scary guy, some kind of evil demon… I assure you, I am not. Now tell me, honestly now, why did you run away from me last night?”.

You wondered who Raul was and how he was without Raphael’s influence. Was he as charismatic and soft-spoken as he appears now? Would you have liked him even a little bit if it wasn’t Raphael eyes looking at you now? 

And would he have even given you a second glance?

Probably not.

Should you…?

“Raul”, you said. “There is no way I can give you any answer to this question without sounding completely crazy, so I won’t even bother”.

“Well, no offence, Anya, but that’s how you….” His words were abruptly cut short. 

His face contorted as if an invisible hand had ripped his skull from his head, a sudden pain seizing him, and he rolled away from you. His expression changed to something far less human.

"Don't breathe another word to him, mouse," he whispered, his voice a whole octave lower now.

"What?" you gasped. “Raphael?”

"Not another word to the human," Raul snapped through clenched teeth, mad jealousy in his voice, his hand flying to his forehead as if to physically stop the pain. “This… bloody… house”.

Raul shook off Raphael's intrusion with a vehemence that was palpable, a fierce determination in his eyes.

"Merda... Merda," Raul grunted. "Just... just give me a moment. It's... damn." 

You watched as he staggered away from you and towards the bathroom off your room. The sound of rushing water filled the silence he left behind.

You heard the rustle of something being hastily retrieved, followed by a hard swallow echoing through the quiet room - clearly forced and without any liquid aid. Curiosity got the better of you and you looked out just in time to see him hunched over the basin.

"It's all right," came Raul's strained voice. "Just... just give it a minute or two. It'll be better soon enough." 

Your hand reached out instinctively, tracing the curve of his luxurious cashmere turtleneck.

"Thank you, darling." He paused for a moment: "What did you want to tell me? I am inclined to believe it no matter how crazy it might be."

Your brain scrambled like a rat in a maze to find a way out of this conversation that wouldn't upset either of them, but came up empty-handed.

"When did your headache start?" you finally managed to say, trying to buy yourself some time to think. "When you met me?"

"What?", Raul frowned. "No. Nothing to do with you. It started long before that. I already told you; when my father died. What did you want to tell me, Anya?"

His nose was bleeding; he put out a handkerchief to wipe it. 

"How did he die?"

"Why?", Raul's demeanor shifted abruptly into something icy. Your question had thrown him off balance. "What an odd thing to ask about.”

Was it really? Considering Raul's age, perhaps. 

"He died as no Catholic should," he finally said, his teeth gnawing at his lower lip. "Especially one as devout as he was. He hanged himself. Why are you asking all this?"

You swallowed and took a step back.

"What in God’s name is going on?" His voice wavered between anger and confusion.

His question remained unanswered. A distant sound interrupted him, something like a bag of bowling balls tumbling down the stairs. Then, a woman's soft cry.

Raul gave you a quick, surprised look.

You ran down the stairs first, overtaking him in your haste.

Not your mother, please not your mother, please not her...

The front door was wide open and there she was - your mother - crumpled at the bottom of the stairs, just below the front porch, her leg swelling rapidly around the ankle, little cubes of cheese and grapes scattered around. Jens got to her before you and was already inspecting her, his claws hovering over the ankle. 

Nausea struck you.

"Mum," you gasped as you dropped to your knees beside her. "Mum, what happened? Does it hurt? Jens, what the fuck have you done to her?"

"Excuse me?" Jens snapped back.

"No, Anya, I... I'm sorry," she whimpered between sobs. "I was bringing the boys some cheese snacks and then I just... saw something... I think... I lost my balance."

"What did you see, Franziska?" Raul's voice cut through her sobs like a scalpel. "Some damn… some damn bizarre timing."

Jens looked up from his examination and shot Raul a puzzled look.

"Nothing," she replied with an attempt at a laugh that came out more as a wheeze. "Sometimes I get dizzy spells... low blood sugar... this new juice diet isn't helping... Oh God, I'm so sorry, it's all just..."

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Raul's knuckles blanch as he clenched his fist, though his face remained a mask of concern.

"It looks like a sprain, not a fracture." Jens murmured under his breath. "No need to get worked up”.

Raul exhaled heavily next to you, as if he had been holding his breath all the time.

"Let the professionals have a look," Raul offered, kneeling beside your mother. "May I help you up, Franziska? Don't worry Jens, I got this. She's light."

"No...don't..." you managed to whisper. "Don't...touch her..."

"What?" Raul asked, brows furrowed in confusion. "Anya, trust me, I can handle this."

"Oh no, Raul," your mother protested weakly as he picked her up in his arms. "I don't want to bother you, it's so embarrassing..."

Something inside you snapped at her words. "Mum! For God's sake! They came into your house uninvited! They..."

"Anya!" She shot back with an unexpected ferocity, considering she was still sobbing a few moments ago. "Watch your language! And show some respect for people who are trying to help!"

"The nearest hospital is the university clinic," Jens said.

"God save us from public health care," Raul scoffed. "There's a decent one closer to where I live. Anya, for God's sake, breathe, your mother will be fine, I'll make sure of that. Anya? Sweetheart, breathe. Accidents happen. Not the end of the world. Anya!”

****

The doctor said it was OK.

Well, not right away. 

The doctor greeted you like you were bloody royalty, ran all the tests with zero waiting time, put your mum in a room that looked like a luxury hotel and then said it's OK. 

Just a small strain, promised she'd be back on her feet in a couple of days.

That was some fantasy world healthcare.

Raul played the concerned partner the first hour, then asked them to charge all the expenses to his account and disappeared into some quiet corner. 

You tried your damnedest not to think about what had happened. 

(he hurt your mother is what happened)

You just sat there, staring at your mum who was eating some diet yoghurt. 

"Raul's a godsend, Anya," your mother said from her plush hospital bed, looking way more content than she should be. "I think he really loves you. He couldn't stop asking about you.”

You had already tried asking her about what she had seen that startled her, only to hear “nothing” and “don’t you worry”. Talking to her was like banging your head against a stone wall. Most conversations with her felt that way.

"We hardly know each other, Mum”, you answered. “Don't you think it's all… strange? That somebody like Raul is so crazy about me? Me?".

"It is quite strange," your mum agreed with a nod. "But they say reality is often stranger than fiction. Some people win lotteries; well, it seems like you've won yours."

“Thanks mum”, you snickered. “You always made me feel desired”.

“Ah, don’t get all snippy. I just wish... I wish so much for you to have a different life. A nice, beautiful life. So you'd go to nice places, live in nice places, not have to live from paycheck to paycheck. Something I never had, but maybe you will".

"Mum, you are fifty. Don't talk about yourself as if you were dead".

"Nothing will happen to you when you're fifty," she said with a small chuckle. "Except maybe spraining your ankle, ha."

You both were silent for some moments.

"Why did you rush to see me anyway? You are pregnant and you are afraid to tell him, is that it? Raul would love that. He really wants to have children with you, he told me so".

"I am not pregnant”. 

She looked disappointed.

“Then what?”

Should you even try to tell her?

“Well, I found out… Let’s say… What if Raul was not a very good person... like... (what’s the word?) politically?"

That was not the word, but the right words would have scared her too much.

"What?" your mother asked in disbelief. “Whatever that means nowadays? Anya, am I a good person in your eyes? Because I remember…”

You cut her off before she could dive into that deep dark hole again.

"I am not discussing abortion rights with you ever again, mum," You took a deep breath. “Once was well enough”.

“Your generation is so indoctrinated it's horrifying," she grumbled. "A good man, who wants family and children, who works hard and goes to church, is now seen as the devil himself. Does whom Raul votes for really outweigh his love for you?"

"It's not about who he votes for," you countered, "it's about what he stands for."

Your mother sighed.

"What do YOU stand for then Anya? You tout yourself as a - God forgive me - socialist but expect Raul to foot the bill for a private clinic. And don't think I don't know that's his money you've been sending me. I’m not as gullible as you believe".

No? Who racked up a credit card debt to go to Nadine?!

"No," you snapped back, "I mean yes, I took his money, but it's not like he's hurting for it."

Your mother gave her one of her long "think about what you just said" looks, and you regretted ever starting this conversation.

"Are you sure, sweetie, that you are in a position to judge who is good and who is bad?"

“Well, you’ve been doing it your entire life”.

“Anya…” your mum started.

You stood up.

"I wish you to get better soon, Mum," you said. “I wish for you to heal and get better and also start listening to me for once in your life”.

"I already feel much better," your mother replied. "And as for you, show some gratitude to Raul for once in your life. The poor man chased after you to another city just to confess his love. Your father never even bothered to call… once. Lord help me!"

Lord didn’t help you, you thought as you looked at her leg. 

Hanged his crosses all over the house and he still didn’t give a fuck.

**

Raul was talking with somebody on the phone in the hospital parking lot in Italian, loudly and passionately, perhaps too much so; the glow from his cigarette danced in the darkness. Jens and co were lurking nearby, too, eyeing your every step. 

Not that you were thinking of escaping from the hospital now. Where?

What for?

The moment he saw you, Raul gave you a warm smile and stubbed out his cigarette under his polished leather shoe. He opened the passenger door for you. As soon as both of you settled into leather seats, just before he reached out to rev up the engine, all your pent-up tears came crashing down.

"Don't you cry,” Raul cupped your cheek and wiped the tear away with thumb. “Your mother just twisted her ankle. Think about all the things much worse that could have happened to her and they did not. Malignant tumor or a fatal accident. It's just a… warning, if you may. Do not take what you have for granted. Those who love you and hold you dear are hard to come by.”

Your sobs died down in your chest.

"Warning received loud and clear", you said staring into his eyes, trying to figure out who the hell you were talking to.

"Is that so?”, he asked. “What is it you wanted to tell me back then in your room? You had a look on your face like you were about to tell me something very important".

You tensed against the cold leather of the passenger seat.

“That I was stupid, and overwhelmed by our feelings,”, you said, carefully choosing every word. “That I am sorry that I ran away, and that I love you. Very much. And I remember what I promised to you”. 

To serve you.

He absentmindedly licked your tear from his thumb.

“I don’t think that’s all you wanted to tell me back there”, he said. “But I think that’s all I want to hear for now”.

Your gaze shifted to the noticeable bulge straining against his pants and you let out a sharp breath. You couldn’t help but wonder what exactly about your tear-swollen face gets him going so much. 

Well, you had a hunch.

"My bad," he said, catching your wandering gaze. "I understand you're not exactly in the mood. But you...you do something to me. Make me feel like a bloody teenager".

You were not in that mood indeed. 

You were in the mood for a little payback, though.

"Oh no, I am”, you said quietly. “In fact, I am very much in the mood, Raul”.

“Are you?”, he asked, his lips still against his own thumb.

His readiness to believe your lie was almost funny. You haven't slept well in three days, you've been running from him through trains to another city, your mother has sprained her leg, but of course you're down to suck his dick anywhere, anytime.

“Sure I am. Right here?”, you asked.

“Christ no”, Raul said. “See that van over there? Journalists. They get a flash of us, they'll spin it as me kidnapping and raping you at first opportunity. They’ll probably write I broke your mother’s leg too. Bastards."

"Home then? We are like an hour away".

His gaze raked over your legs, lingering just a bit too long. 

The engine roared to life beneath you.

“Two. And it’s a damn long time, if you ask me”.

The highway was barely lit, a maw of darkness that seemed to stretch on forever. It reminded you of that film... That's it, “The Lost Highway”. Kilometres and kilometres of the same road flashing by. You didn’t know what to say, Raul didn’t say anything either.

He began to decelerate; a P-Sign whizzed past in a blur. He veered off at the first opportunity and pushed deeper into the underbelly of some industrial wasteland, some grey-bricked, desolate looking factory. You surveyed your surroundings - one solitary lamppost standing guard over you and not much else.

You’ve seen more romantic spots, that’s for sure.

“The factory belongs to Avernus”, he said matter-of-factly. “We wouldn’t be bothered here”.

“Avernus? Do debtors toil for eternity here?” you joked.

“Ha ha”, Raul said. "I have an even better metaphor for the class struggle for you, little miss Marx."

Raul reclined his seat all the way back, pulling your body towards his with one hand wrapped around your nape. He kissed you deeply, but didn't linger much before guiding your head down towards his lap. He had already undone his pants and freed his cock from his boxers.

"Hold up, not like that," you interjected. He huffed out an irritated sigh.

You straddled over to sit between his spread legs, the steering wheel pressing into your neck as you held his cock in your grasp.

You wanted to be able to look him in the eyes.

“The way you look up at me as if I’ve given you the sweetest treat...fuck, it turns me on,", He gripped your head as you kissed the tip. “You love to suck my cock, don’t you?”

You grinned at his porn talk. 

"Mmmmhmm," you purred in response, never breaking eye contact as you gave his shaft an appreciative lick, your hand pumping him in slow and steady movements. "I love your cock, Raul. No one else can compare."

You made a very indulgent emphasis on the name as you stared into his eyes. 

Bite.

His hips jerked up, trying to pull you deeper, but you kept control.

“No one else”, you repeated with an edge, peppering his shaft with kisses.

Come on. Bite.

“Mouse”, he warned. 

There it is. There he is. You missed him.

At least a little bit.

His grip around your neck tightened as he tried to guide you further down onto him but once again, you resisted.

"I prefer piccola," you corrected, trailing your tongue along the pulsing vein of his length. "It sounds so lovely with your Italian accent." 

You spat on him, rubbing your saliva all over, as you savored the war between man and devil to fuck your mouth. Raul was stubborn, and oh boy, did he want you as badly as Raphael did.

Saliva poured out of your mouth and you let it drip on his silky slacks. You reveled in the ruin you were causing - fuck them both indeed - before feigning a deeper dive only to pull back for another lick.

The devil seemed to be winning.

"Mouse," Raphael managed to grunt through clenched teeth. "This is all very... temporary... trust me."

Ignoring his words, you wriggled out of his grasp to set the pace yourself, stroking him slowly and deliberately instead of actually sucking his dick.

"Temporarily?" You pouted as you looked up at him through fluttering eyelashes, running your hand along his cock. "I was hoping for a happily ever after, Raul."

Whatever retort he had ready was swallowed by a guttural moan; Raul's hips thrust forward in desperate need, but none of them were going to get off into your mouth today. 

"Stop playing around and suck me properly."

"Nope," was your curt reply (Raphael must have hated the “nope” instead of “no”). Before his hand could yank your hair and compel you, you recoiled against the wheel; slipped out of your jeans, practically peeled them off, and climbed on top of him.

You took him in, panties moved to the side, all in one embrace, cock in yielding, slick pussy, your cleavage thrust into his face. He tugged your shirt down (you heard a rip) to bare your breasts and took one of your nipples into his mouth.

"Fuck yes," Raul groaned as you rocked back and forth. “Faster”.

It was actually harder to go faster; this was some fucked-up car design that didn't offer much room for anything. Besides, you liked it exactly the way you moved, rubbing and grinding against him instead of bouncing on top of him.

So, you disregarded his request. Or at least tried to.

He gripped your thighs with a vice-like hold, halting your movements but thrusting his hips upwards to fuck you deeper.

"Say my name," Raphael said, his fingers digging into your hips, and if you let your imagination run wild (there was no way to tame it anymore) you could feel the scratch of the claws. 

"Raul," you said, smiling.

Raphael's hand went to your throat. Your taunt spurred him on, urging him to move harder and faster, to prove who was the superior one.

"Say MY name, mortal." 

"Ra..ra..." you played with the first syllabus, grinding against him. "Raul".

You saw it coming but didn't shy away. 

His retaliation was swift and brutal, his palm colliding with your cheek. There was such hatred in his eyes, such raw jealousy, flecks of gold and green. It left you soaking wet. 

"Raul," you said, returning the slap to his pampered, moisturised, perfectly groomed face, hoping to leave your mark on it.

He looked startled for a split second, as if he never thought you would dare to hit back. He grimaced, bared his teeth in rage and grabbed you by the hair.

You let out a shriek as he dragged you off and flipped you onto your stomach. Raul's head hit the roof of the car in the struggle. He spat out a curse about needing to get a jeep before trying to position himself behind you - only to repeat the fiasco. He gave up then and flung open the passenger door.

"Let's go for a walk, shall we?"

Cool spring air trickled over your skin as he pulled you to the front of the car for a very, very short walk - then pushed you up against the bonnet and bent you over like a rag doll. Your legs were spread wide as you found yourself staring at your own reflection in the reflective surface of the front mirror.

"GOD!" you cried out as he thrust into you again, that it robbed you of balance. Your sneakers and mismatched socks kicked helplessly in mid-air while you're wriggled on your stomach against the slick surface.

You hoped he did not have a dash cam to record this. 

You hoped his security did not have a live stream.

Your face was now pressed against the red chrome, your knees scraping the metal as he fucked you from behind, his elbow pressing down on your throat.

"Such...a...disobedient...little...mouse," he gave your ass a resounding slap. 

You laughed and doubled down, repeating Raul's name as Raphael rammed into you harder every time it left your lips, his claws digging into your bottom. Your own nails clawed at the pristine surface of the Lamborghini, imagining the bill Raul would have to pay to have it repaired and thoroughly enjoying the vision. 

His words punctuated every time his body drove yours into the cool metal: "He... Will... Be... Dead... Soon. Just… Us."

The words sent a jolt of pleasure through you. Raphael was jealous; so, so jealous. 

You were so close and yet so far; Raphael was holding you back. 

He won't let you come until you say his name.

His grip on your hair tightened, pulling your head back to meet his thrusts, while his other hand twisted your arm behind your back until it was on the verge of breaking, until you growled in pain and tried to shake him off, but humped against him instead. 

"Tell me what I want to hear."

He (they?) loved you viciously, but nobody ever loved you that much, viciously or not, so viciously is what you'll take then.

"Ra...", you began. And then it hit, a brutal, gut-wrenching orgasm that engulfed you as you finally chose to say the right syllables. "Pha... Oh FUCK... El..."

The last word was choked out of you and for an instant, everything went black.

"Never run away again," Raul whispered as his fangs bit down your neck, hard. "Never... never even think about it... never. Do you understand?"

There is nowhere to run anyway.

You nodded, eagerly, basking in the dark pit of your orgasm. 

As low as he could drag you down, so high he could lift you up; heaven high; everything-you-ever-wanted high.

Once you have experienced it, you will always want to feel it again.

"Do you understand?" he asked again, and you could tell he was getting there too. "Try it again and you are..."

He (who?) didn't say "dead". 

He (who?) never said "dead". 

He (who?) just moaned.

Then he came hard and fast, shuddering as he did so; you could not stop grinding back against his orgasm, riding the wave of power over him - over her - which was even better than an orgasm in more ways than one. 

He withdrew and for the first time, you felt the cold raindrops on your heated skin. He adjusted his pants and silently opened the passenger door for you.

Once in the car, you looked at Raul's face; his nose was bleeding. He was stretched out in the driver's seat, his clothes soiled with blood, saliva and semen. His hand was pressed against his face as he panted heavily.

You smiled.

You loved to see him so wrecked. 

"Cazzo," Raul gasped, trying to catch his breath. "Cazzo. This is really… fucked up. I'm sorry, I don’t know why I struck you. The things I said, I didn't…".

"You don't have to explain anything," you cut off any excuses he might make next. "It's fine. I am good. I liked it. A lot. I came, in fact".

You sprawled out on the seat like a content cat. Raul shot you a side-eye.

“Sometimes I have a feeling it’s me who should be scared of you”, Raul quipped. 

“Maybe”, you said. 

Raul gave you his own reflection in the mirror a weary look, small drops of blood still trickling down his nose.

"Damn, I've got another round of negotiations tomorrow," he said, rubbing his bruised cheek. "And a TV interview. I can imagine the headlines."

You felt as if your soul had been drained; Raul looked the same.

"Mh-m-m," you agreed, not giving much of a fuck. "Nothing a little concealer can't hide."

You watched his semen drip down the dark leather and wondered if you should wipe it off, and if yes, with what. Do you have a napkin? Actually, where is your backpack? 

He handed you over a napkin.

"Don't bother too much," Raul sighed as you got down to work, "there are people whose job it is to clean up, and that's definitely not you or me."

You wiped harder.

"By the way, what's that big deal of yours?" you asked.

"Why? I thought my business bored you”.

“I want to spill it to Interpol”, you whispered. 

Raul threw his head back and chuckled.

"They are already in the loop. And if you're really curious about my business, why don't you come along?” He ruffled his already dishevelled hair. “I am flying to Davos in a couple of days to finalise some... loose ends."

You felt a bitter taste in your throat.

"What do you need me there for?"

What do you think Raphael really gave you warlock powers for? To throw people under the bus? Hardly.

"To keep me company, my little mouse," he replied with a wink. "And maybe help me sway those who aren’t exactly thrilled about my plans – given your knack for persuasion."

A test of loyalty, then.

"There are people that even someone like you needs to convince?”

"I am not the biggest fish in this very big bowl, Anya".

"Not yet".

“Not yet”, he echoed.

"I don't want to be dragged into politics," you said. “I don’t care for it”.

"No? Sweetheart, you are the worst communist I’ve ever met,” Raul chuckled. “No need to be dragged into anything. All I need is for you to stand by me and lend me your support. In return, I’ll spoil you rotten. Sound fair?” 

You gave Raul a glance, one that seemed to say "I don't think Raphael will keep you around much longer after he gets what he wants."

"What is it you want, Raul? What is it that you don't have? You have everything”.

His expression was one of confusion—as if you were speaking an alien language.

"The thing about the things you don't have," he mused as his hand rested on your knee. "You never realise how important they are until they're yours. And once they are, you start to wonder just what else could be missing".

You watched the raindrops hit the car window.

"Do you ever think that sometimes we want too much?"

"Never," he flicked his lighter and a cigarette came to life between his lips. "If anything, I think we wish for too little."

Next Chapter, In Which You Get Spoilt Rotten

or (lemme decide soon)

Next Chapter, In Which Your Father Hanged Himself 

The last one is a flashback chapter from Raul’s POV to get a bit insight into the whole Raul / Raphael situation. 

[your-not-invisible-to-me]

We'll Hold Hands Until the Sun Comes Out (Matt Murdock x Reader) 

Ship: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary:

After a horrible week of bad luck breaking you down, Matt is ready to be there and pick up the pieces.

Word Count: 1,494

Warning: none

A/N: Title inspired by one of my favorite songs, "Time Wasting" by Heffron Drive. Listen to it here! It makes the fic better me thinks. Fic itself is for @pastafossa as she deserves all the Matt comfort after some consistent bad luck.

It was too loud. 

Even with the lights off and the tv on mute, the world was just too loud as you continued to bury your head into the pillow. 

It had been an awful week. Just plain awful. 

You should have known something was wrong when it started with Matt telling you he had to go out of town for a few days, some conference upstate that was an apparent golden networking opportunity for him and Foggy.  Who were you to protest? 

But then the power went out in the apartment after they left, and only Matt had the passwords to all the accounts you needed to pay for it.

Did you mention your phone was dead, too? 

Sure you were able to get it charged after going to Karen’s. Sure you were able to call Matt and listen as he profusely apologized for letting the date of the power bill slip his mind. Sure, you were able to get confirmation that it would be turned on by the end of the day, and indeed it was. 

But then your co-worker called out sick the next day, leaving you to deal with an angry boss. Then your lunch got stolen. Twice. In one week. 

And who could forget the lovely cab that skidded to a stop right next to you on the sidewalk? While it was raining? 

So now, as the evening rolled around on Friday night, all you wanted to do was sleep. 

But it was just too loud. Each honk of a Hell’s Kitchen taxi came through the walls as if it were the bricks that fell as it toppled down. The slide of your clothes against the grooves in the silk sheets dug into your brain like nails on a chalkboard. 

So you did what you could do as you dug your head deeper into the pillow, and hoped that sleep would eventually win the battle. 

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

Matt couldn’t exactly complain about the week he’d had. While he always hated being away from you, the trip to Syracuse for a conference was a success. While networking wasn’t either his or Foggy’s stronger suit, as it usually involved kissing ass to lawyers who wouldn’t take a second glance at them, he had felt that this conference was filled with the rare types you only heard of, lawyers who cared. 

He couldn’t help but feel a new hope for the profession he had worked hard to be in. 

So now, on this Friday night, he, Karen, and Foggy sat in Josie’s Bar drinking to their success. He had tried to call you to join them, as he and Foggy had chosen to go straight there once arriving back to the city, but was sent straight to voicemail. But it was rather late, and he assumed you were already asleep. 

Little did he know. 

“You should have heard her, Karen. It was so refreshing to actually listen to a lawyer who actually fought for her client. I mean, sure, Jen doesn’t exactly take on clients with the cleanest records, but you can see she actually believes in their right to redemption.” said Foggy. “Too bad she had to go straight back to LA. She seemed like the type who would be hella fun in a bar.” 

It was the mention of you that pulled Matt back into the conversation. 

“Jen would have to be immune to alcohol if she wanted to out-drink her!” said Karen. She wasn’t wrong, his girlfriend did have quite the ability to hold her liquor. 

“Where is she, anyway?” asked Foggy. “She never misses a night a Josie’s.” 

“I tried calling her!” said Matt. “It went straight to voicemail. She’s probably already asleep. She seemed pretty busy lately.” 

“Well with the week she’s had, I wouldn’t blame her for conking out either,” said Karen. 

Well, that sure did get Matt’s attention. 

“What do you mean?” 

As Karen spilled in detail your trail of bad luck that had followed you throughout the week, the grip on his cane tightened. Both of his friends knew better than to question it as he immediately slipped cash on the table and just about threw himself out the door. 

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

It was too quiet.

Usually, when Matt approached his apartment, he’d be able to hear you in some shape or form, whether it would be humming as you danced through the kitchen or the murmur of the television that played softly as you snoozed on the couch. 

But now there was nothing. He would have thought no one was home if he hadn’t finally picked up your heartbeat when he entered the lobby. 

As he opened the door, the scene before him made his heart ache. He could sense everything. Your work clothes were skewed across the floor rather than in the hamper, something you had bought to make HIM pick up the habit. Dishes from leftovers were piled in the sink, and while he was more than guilty of waiting till the morning to clean up dinner, you were always the opposite. 

He made it to your shared bedroom, finding you curled up in bed under more blankets than he realized you owned. 

“Sweetheart?” 

The silence echoed throughout the room, raising his concern as he knew you weren’t asleep. 

He walked to your side of the bed, lowering to his knees as he tried to find your face. 

“Darling, are you all right?” 

“Matty?” your voice came out in cracks. 

“What is it, sweetheart?” 

“Please help me.” 

If his heart ached before, it was falling to pieces now. He immediately crawled up into bed with you, pulling you into his lap as he curled himself around you. Tears immediately started falling from your eyes, soaking his shirt as he tried to soak up your pain. 

“What do you need, sweetheart? How can I help?” He had never seen you like this before, each of your sobs feeling like a stab to his heart. 

“I’m just so tired, Matt. This week was so bad.” 

“Why didn’t you call me earlier? I would have come straight home.” 

“You were working. You were busy.” 

“Never too busy for you.” 

You didn’t know how to respond to that. You knew Matt loved you and were as certain of it as if you could hear his heartbeat too. But you weren’t going to interrupt his week when it was important for work. 

“What can I do, sweetheart?” 

“Make the world quiet, please.” 

This was something he knew all too well. The feeling of the world being so loud that it took over any peace in his mind was something he knew like the back of his hand. You were always the first one to help him. You were always the first to let him lay his head in your lap as he blocked out the bad. You were always the first to pull him into your chest when he needed the shield.

Could he be just as strong for you? That, he wasn’t sure. 

But he was damn well ready to try. 

He maneuvered you so you were curled up next to him, kissing your cheek in apology as you let out a moan at being separated. 

“Just a second, sweetheart.” 

He slipped his shirt and pants off, leaving him in just his boxers before he turned to you. You let him do the same, too tired to do anything as he slipped your own clothes off and threw them to the ground. 

Usually, your side of the bed was the one closest to the window. You liked being woken up by the sun through the blinds and feeling the warmth on your face. But that didn’t matter now as he pulled you back into his arms, skin to skin, turning you so he was blocking the window from your space. 

You immediately felt better. The scrapes on a chalkboard were suddenly replaced by the soft beat of Matt’s heart as you laid your head against his chest.  The itch from the sheets faded away as the feeling was replaced by the softness of Matt’s skin. 

He dug his hand into your hair, giving your head soft scratches like you did to him, feeling your body go slack as each muscle fell loose. 

“Oh sweetheart, I love you so much. Please. Never feel like you need to fight alone when the world seems too strong. I’ll gladly fight by your side.” 

Matt couldn’t help but feel satisfied as he felt you start to relax in his arms. 

“That’s it, darling. It’s okay.” 

Matt curled around you tighter, smiling to himself as he felt you slip your hand into his, holding it like a lifeline to the calm you desperately needed after the storm.

He felt the grip of your hand lessen as you finally fell asleep as the darkness of the night took over, but he knew he’d force himself to stay awake if it meant holding it till sunrise. 

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

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it! As always, let me know if I missed any spelling or grammar errors. I tried my best to catch them, but I'm not the best at it.

Feedback always appreciated too!

I hope you enjoyed the Matt comfort, @pastafossa. I adore you always, friend!

To the person who sent in the Matt x Jen phone sex request, it will be here soon!

[sequinsmile-x]

Battlement

She’d always worn her emotional control like a mask. A wall she’d built brick by brick throughout her childhood, reinforced every time someone didn’t love her like they should have, barbed wire strewn across any potential weaknesses, her wit and stubbornness the turrets to keep people away. It was a defence that very few people were allowed to see past, and even fewer could bypass it completely.

AKA Emily changes her mind about having visitors on the day she gives birth and Aaron faces the disappointed crowd for her.

-x-

Hi friends,

Not really sure where this one came from, but here is some soft hotchniss for you to start your week with <3

Please let me know what you think!

-x-

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: Mentions of labour (non-descriptive), hospitalisation

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She was the happiest she’d ever been. 

She was the most exhausted and out of sorts she’d ever been too, but the tiny baby curled up against her chest was worth it all.

Issac Hotchner was less than four hours old and was already the centre of her, Aaron and Jack’s world. Jack had been obsessed with him when he came to visit just an hour ago, tears shining in his eyes as he held his little brother for the first time. It had been a quick visit, one Jessica had stayed out in the waiting room for, but Emily knew it would end up being one of her favourite memories. 

She winces as she shifts in the bed, the lower half of her body sore in a way she didn’t know was possible, but she smiles softly when she spots her husband jump into action out of the corner of her eye. 

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” Aaron asks, his own exhaustion clear as he sits on the edge of her bed. 

“I’m fine, honey,” she assures him, “I had a baby a few hours ago. I’m going to be sore,” she looks down at the sleeping baby in her arms, “I feel weirdly more anxious when he’s asleep,” she admits, “At least when he’s awake I can try shoving my boob in his mouth.” 

“Well that has always been my favourite thing to do when I’m awake,” he quips and she glares at him, failing to suppress a smile as she shakes her head. He smiles and shifts even closer to her, his arm hooked around her shoulders, “You’re already an amazing mom, Em. That’s been true for a long time.”

There’s a gentle knock on the door before it opens, and the midwife, Jen, who’d been looking after them since yesterday pops her head around the door, “How is everyone doing in here?” 

“We’re good,” Emily says, looking down at her son, “I think he’s eaten a little since you last came in. It’s hard to tell.” 

Jen smiles as she steps into the room, “That’s normal, their stomachs are tiny at this stage,” she says, her smile getting wider as she gets closer, looking at Issac content and asleep in Emily’s arms, “And he seems happy enough,” she looks back up at Emily, “You’re doing a great job.” 

It feels ridiculous how happy the praise from a woman who had been a stranger just 48 hours ago makes her feel, but it swells in her chest, her cheeks warm with it as she looks at Aaron. 

“See,” he says, leaning in and kissing her temple, “I told you. You’re doing great.” 

He rarely compared the two women he’d been lucky enough to be married to, who he’d been lucky enough to be loved by and to love in return, but he couldn’t help but think of Haley the last few hours. Emily’s insecurity around how she was doing as a new mom was familiar, an echo of another life that felt so far away yet right here at the same time. He’d tried to fix it for Haley back then, a new parent himself, desperately trying to prove he wasn’t his own father, instead of just doing what she needed. It had led to disagreements he winced at when he looked back on them, made him want to shout at his past self and tell him to just shut up and ask what his wife wanted instead of trying to guess. He wasn’t going to make the same mistakes this time. He was going to let Emily lead and only push when he knew she needed him to. 

Emily’s smile shakes as she nods and briefly leans into his kiss before adjusting her hold on Issac as she turns back to Jen, “Do you need to take him for another test?” 

“No,” Jen says, “He’s all yours for now. I did come to say there’s a rather sizeable welcome party in the waiting room for Issac. Do you want me to let them come through?” 

Emily’s smile slips from her face, anxiety she didn’t understand washing over her, the waves of it so strong it pulls her under, making it difficult to breathe. She felt torn open in every possible way. Her labour had been long, pushing her to her limits as seconds felt like hours and hours felt like days. Eventually, after she’d burst into tears when he told her only 30 minutes had passed since she’d last asked, Aaron had stopped telling her the time. He’d simply told her she was doing great, something that hadn’t felt true at the time, and provided whatever physical and emotional support she needed.

The relief she’d felt when she felt her son slip into the world, his cries filling the room only a second later, was unlike else she’d ever experienced. The second he’d been laid on her chest she was overcome with love for him. It spilled out of her onto her cheeks, burning tracks against her skin she was sure would never fade, as she laid a shaky hand on his back. Her trembling breath skipping across Aaron’s face as he kissed her forehead, his empathic love pressed against her skin as he looked back and forth between her and their son, his hand resting over hers on the newborn’s back. 

She wants to share Issac with the world. To show him off and feel pride when people tell her how beautiful he is, but she isn’t sure she’s ready, her every nerve scraped raw, her normal defences torn down piece by piece until it was as if they’d never been there in the first place. She blows out a shaky breath and holds Issac impossibly closer, her hand firmer on his back as if someone was going to snatch him from her. Steal him away along with the sanctuary she’d found with him and Aaron in the last few hours, the relative peace she would have once thought impossible in a hospital room. 

“I…” she trails off, unsure what to say, unsure how to feel and she’s never been more in love with Aaron than she is when he wraps his arm around her shoulder as he talks to Jen. 

“Can we just have a couple of minutes?” He asks, and Jen nods, nothing but understanding in her smile, and he’s sure this is something she’s seen countless times.

“Of course,” she replies, unfazed, and she leaves the room quietly, letting the three of them return to the bubble they’d been in. 

Aaron turns just enough so he can look at Emily properly, “Em, sweetheart, what do you want to do?” 

She sniffs and shrugs, her lips pressed together as she tries, and fails, to stop them from trembling, “I don’t know,” she says, her eyes shining as she looks up at him, “I told them they could come. We agreed they could come after Jack did but…” 

“You don’t know if you’re ready yet,” he finishes for her, wordlessly reaching out and wiping tears from her cheeks, his touch soft and reassuring, his love pressing from his skin to hers. 

She nods, “I just…I can’t stop crying. And I’m so tired. And so sore,” she looks down at Issac, “And he’ll only latch on if we do skin to skin so I’m practically naked and I just feel so…exposed.” 

He knows her well enough to know that she was as worried about how emotional she was as much as anything else. She’d always worn her emotional control like a mask. A wall she’d built brick by brick throughout her childhood, reinforced every time someone didn’t love her like they should have, barbed wire strewn across any potential weaknesses, her wit and stubbornness the turrets to keep people away. It was a defence that very few people were allowed to see past, and even fewer could bypass it completely. It was a kind of trust that had to be earned, something she wouldn’t give away to just anyone, and it was nothing short of a privilege to be the person she trusted the most. The person she let see her like this - as defenceless as he’d ever known her to be. 

He squeezes her thigh and smiles encouragingly when she looks up at him, and he reaches out to tuck some of her hair behind her ear, not missing how she leans into the touch as if his touch and the weight of their son on her chest were the only thing keeping her going. He tells himself right then that he’d be her defences until she had her own again.

“Do you want me to send them away?” He asks, and her eyes go wide, her lips pressed together as she briefly shakes her head, ready to say it was fine, that she’d be okay, but he stops her, “Sweetheart, I mean it. I don’t care that they came all the way here, I don’t care that they might be pissed at me. Right now, I only care about you and Issac,” he assures her, his thumb tracing back and forth on her jaw, “Do you want me to send them away?” 

The repetition of his question eases the guilt that had started to build in her chest, his words as gentle as the swirling motion he was drawing on her skin. It pulls a nod out of her, a confirmation she hadn’t known she was going to give until she’d given it. 

“Yes,” she says, turning her head to kiss his palm, hoping beyond anything that it would say everything she couldn’t find the words for, “Yes please.”

Aaron smiles and leans in to kiss her, his lips stamping against hers and then her forehead before he leans in to kiss Issac, “I’ll be right back,” he says as he stands up, “You two wait there.” 

Emily scoffs, shaking her head lovingly at her husband, “As if I could get up right now without any help.” 

He turns as he reaches the door and winks at her, smiling when she sticks out her tongue, “I’ll be right back.”

He takes a moment when he steps out of the room. Stands in the hall and takes in a breath, slipping on the Hotch mask he knows he needs for the next few minutes, leaving Aaron the husband, the father, in the room with his wife and newborn. He smiles at Jen as he walks past the nurse's station and towards the waiting room. 

Everyone stands up all at once when they see him, excited chatter and questions overlapping each other in a way he knows would have overwhelmed his wife, making him even more relieved Emily had made the right decision. That she’d put herself first for once. 

“Can I hold him?” 

“How is she?”

“The picture you sent of the boys together was so cute.” 

He smiles, his hands clasped in front of him as he waits for them to stop, his eyes flicking from their faces to the ‘It’s a Boy’ balloons Penelope was holding.

“We really appreciate you coming,” he says, clearing his throat, “But Emily isn’t feeling up to visitors right now.” 

A mix of confusion and disappointment dances across their faces, eyebrows furrowing as the anticipation he’d walked in on fades away.

“She doesn’t want visitors?” Elizabeth asks, the first to break the silence as she crosses her arms over her chest, “She’s just decided this now?” 

He nods, “She has. She was in labour a long time, and it’s going to take her a couple of days to feel up to seeing people,” he says, his jaw set tight in a way that he hopes makes clear this isn’t up for discussion, “I’m sorry you came all the way out here, but it might be best until you wait until we’re home.” 

Penelope frowns, “But we brought balloons.” 

In any other circumstance, he’s sure it would have made him laugh. Her seriousness mixed in with such a ludicrous statement, but he swallows it back, not wanting to undermine what he was trying to do for his wife. 

“I can take them to her,” he offers, “And anything else you’ve brought. But no visitors.”

“Not even for a couple of minutes?” Derek asks and Aaron shakes his head, grateful when the other man relents, clearly having just chosen to push the boundaries only a little. 

“Well, can you at least bring the baby out here?” Elizabeth asks, “I’d like to meet my grandson.”

“No,” he says, raising his eyebrow at her, the closest he had ever come to challenging her, keen to keep his promise to his wife to not argue with her mother on today of all days, “I am not taking my son, who is only a few hours old, away from his mother.” 

She blows out a breath and nods, “Is she okay at least? This isn’t like Emily.”

“Well,” he says, his smile turning soft as he reaches out for his mother-in-law and squeezes her arm, “She’s never had a baby before, but she’s okay.” 

JJ steps forward, an understanding smile on her face as she puts herself between him and the rest of them, “Why don’t we all go get a drink? Wet the baby’s head,” she turns to Aaron, “And then when you’re home and ready we’ll come armed with enough casseroles to fill your freezer and excited to meet him.” 

“That would be great,” he says, smiling gratefully at her, something she shakes her head at, silently telling him it was fine. That she’d been there. 

“Come on,” Dave says, smiling at Aaron as he gets everyone else's attention, “I’ll even buy the first round.” 

“Fine,” Penelope says, pouting in a way he knows Emily would get a kick out of as she hands him the balloons, “Just give them both a kiss from me.”

“Of course,” he replies, “Thank you.” 

He watches as they go, his face twisting into a smile as he hears Spencer explain where the term ‘wet the baby’s head’ originated from, and he sighs in relief when they disappear into the elevator. He heads back to Emily’s room immediately, not wanting to be away from her and Issac any longer than necessary. When he walks back in, balloons first, she chuckles, her smile wide as he sets them down in the corner. 

“You look cute holding balloons,” she says, a spark in her smile that makes him laugh as he walks over to join them on the bed, “Were they okay?”

He kisses her and nods, “They were fine. In fact, I think the team may be about to take your mom to O’Shea’s to wet Issac’s head.”

She laughs, her head thrown back, none of the anxiety he’d seen earlier anywhere to be found, “Now that I would pay to see,” she rests her head on his shoulder, “Want to hold him for a bit?”

“Always.” 

She eases Issac into Aaron’s arms, and she doesn’t quite understand the ache she feels when her arms are empty. She decides to wrap them around one of Aaron’s arms, holding him close as she looks at their son, the three of them sitting there in contented silence. 

“Thank you,” she says eventually, resting her head on his shoulder, looking down at her baby who looked impossibly smaller in Aaron’s arms.

“For what?” Aaron asks, kissing the top of her head, catching the arch of her eyebrow as she tilts her head up to look at him.

“For loving me enough to piss off all of our friends,” she says, her lips curling into a smile, “And my mother.” 

He smiles and holds Issac to his chest with one hand, using the other to hook a finger under her chin, tilting her head further so he can kiss her. He pulls back just enough to speak, “You never have to thank me for loving you, Em,” he kisses her again, “It comes naturally. It would be like thanking me for breathing.” 

She chuckles and shakes her head, tears pressing at the back of her eyes again, “You are ridiculous,” she says, kissing him, only pulling back when she hears Issac cry out, his face screwed up in a frown as they look down at him, “Daddy is ridiculous, Zaccy,” she says, running her knuckle over her son’s petal soft skin, her tumultuous emotions washing over her again, “But we love him anyway.” 

He hears the crack in his wife’s voice and he passes the baby over to her, the soft smile of gratitude she gives him all the confirmation he needs that he’s done the right thing. He shifts them so he’s settled behind her on the bed, her back against his chest as he holds them both in embrace, his lips against her temple as he sighs contentedly. 

“And I love you both,” he says, adjusting the tiny hat on Issac’s head, “So much.” 

-x-

Tag List:

@ssa-sparks , @ptrckjcne , @lyds102 , @glockleveledatyourcrotch , @hotchnissenthusiast , @danadeservesadrink , @ssamorganhotchner , @emilyprentissisgod , @notagentprentiss , @freesiasandfics , @emilyshotchniss , @thecharmingart , @paulitalblond , @hancydrewfan , @camille093 , @whitecrossgirl , @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess , @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife , @ms-black-a , @beebeelank , @aubreyprc , @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart , @criminalmindsgonewrong , @fionaloover , @kinqslcys , @prentissinred , @ccmattis-22 , @denvivale317 , @thrindis , @hotchsguccitie , @cmfouatslota77 , @alexblakegf , @aliensaurusrex, @prentissxhotch , @emobabeyy , @victoiregranger , @stormyweatherth , @wanderingdreamer009 , @ssablackbird , @luhwithah , @lex13cm , @prentiss-theorem, @dont-emily-me , @mrs-ssa-hotch , @jocyycreation, @itsmytimetoodream , @hotchnissgroupie, @controversialpooh, @capsshinyshield , @canuck-eh

Join my tag list here!

[biggerbetterbat]

[1] like it’s our last night

Bucky Barnes x oc!Jennifer Cole

Steve Rogers x platonic!Jennifer Cole

Summary: Bucky wants to spend his last night with his friends before he goes on the front.

Warnings: fluff, talking about dying on a war

Words: 4.055

[masterlist] NEXT

1943, New York City

The sound of punches echoed through the narrow alley, followed by the thud of a body hitting the ground. Jennifer Cole winced as she stood close to the wall, watching the one-sided fight unfold. Steve Rogers, small and defiant as ever, lay crumpled against a brick wall, still trying to get up despite the clear beating he'd just taken.

"Let him go!" she shouted, stepping forward. "Oh my God, stop! Stop!"

But her voice went unheard, drowned by Steve's determined groan as he staggered back to his feet, raising his fists in front of him. His face was bloodied, his lip split, but his eyes were fierce with stubborn resolve.

"I can do this all day," Steve breathed, his voice weak but filled with that characteristic grit. Before Jen could get closer, the thug's fist connected again, and Steve crumpled to the ground.

"Steve!" she cried, rushing toward him.

Before she could reach him, a familiar voice cut through the tension, smooth and confident.

"Hey!" The thug turned to the source of the voice, but before he could react, he was yanked backward. "Pick someone your own size."

Jen's heart skipped as Bucky Barnes stepped into view, pulling the attacker away from Steve and tossing him aside as if he weighed nothing. His sharp blue eyes were alight with annoyance, though there was a playful edge to his tone as he turned to Steve, half-smirking.

"Sometimes I think you like getting punched."

Steve, wincing as he sat up, managed a half-smile. "I had him on the ropes."

Jen sighed, relieved, and knelt next to Steve, helping him to his feet. She gently cupped his face in her hands, tilting his head to get a better look at the damage. Steve was tough, but he still had a habit of getting himself into trouble that his small frame couldn't handle.

"How many times is this?" she asked, her thumb lightly brushing his bruised cheek. "I swear, it's like every week."

Steve shrugged, wiping the blood from his mouth.

"Oh, you're from Paramus now?" echoed playful voice of the other boy.

"What?!" Jen exclaimed, incredulity in her voice as she looked between Steve and Bucky. "Steve! You know it's illegal to lie on the enlistment form."

"And seriously, Jersey?" Bucky chimed in, his grin widening.

"I've got to try something." Steve rolled his eyes. "You got your orders?"

Her eyes widened as she stepped back to take in the sight. It was then that she noticed the crisp uniform, the gleaming buttons, the proud stance. Her heart sank.

"The 107th," Bucky confirmed, standing a little taller as if to hide the weight in his voice. "Sergeant James Barnes. Shipping out from England first thing tomorrow."

Bucky turned to her, still grinning, but his expression softened as he caught the look on her face.

Jen's face dropped, and the lump that formed in her throat made it difficult to breathe. She'd known this was coming, of course. Everyone did. But now, faced with the reality of it, the knowledge that Bucky was leaving, her chest tightened in a way she hadn't expected.

"Hey, what's with the face, Doll?" Bucky's voice was soft now as he reached out, his fingers gently grazing her cheek in a comforting gesture. His touch was warm, reassuring, but it did little to ease the tension building inside her.

Jen forced a smile, fighting the sudden rush of emotions. "It's just... I didn't realize it was so soon."

His thumb traced a small circle on her cheek before he dropped his hand. "I'll be back before you know it."

Steve, sensing the shift in the mood, cleared his throat and took a step back. "I should be going."

"Oh no, you don't," Bucky said, a grin spreading across his face again. He slung his arm around both Steve and Jen, pulling them into a tight embrace. "Come on! My last night! We got to get Stevie cleaned up."

"Why?" Jen chuckled despite herself, the tension easing slightly under Bucky's warmth. "Where are we going?"

"Future!" Bucky exclaimed with a wink, his voice full of excitement.

WORLD EXPOSITION OF TOMORROW

Jen couldn't help but laugh. Even in the face of war, Bucky always knew how to lighten the mood. As they made their way down the street, Bucky's arm still wrapped around them, Jen stole a glance at him. His uniform, his grin, the way he walked with confidence—he was the same Bucky she'd always known, but tonight felt different.

The music of Benny Goodman spilled out from the club, the sound of trumpets and saxophones blending into the lively chatter of the young men and women filling the room. It was a night of celebration before the grim reality of war would pull so many away.

The grandeur of the World Exposition of Tomorrow surrounded Jen and Steve, yet for most of the night, their world had been contained within their own little bubble. Jen had always admired Steve for his resilience and quiet strength. He was different from other men—more introspective, more genuine.

However, that night more that any other time, Jen could see the change in his demeanor. He was talking to her, but his gaze shift between Bucky and the other attendees. Bucky was living the life Steve had always dreamed of—a chance to be part of something greater, to serve and fight for a cause, while Steve remained on the sidelines.

It wasn't that any other time Steve was the life of the party. He always knew his place, and it was right where he was now - in the corner. Tonight, though, he seemed to struggle with hiding his true feelings.

They both did.

Jen stood off to the side, her drink in hand, trying to ignore the knot in her stomach. She smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes, as she watched Bucky on the opposite side of the room, flanked by two girls - the same girls he invited to watch the Stark exhibition with them - hanging onto his every word.

Typical, she thought. Bucky Barnes, ever the ladies' man, with that effortless charm that had girls lining up for his attention. She shook her head, sipping her drink as she leaned against the wall.

She didn't begrudge him. After all, she and Bucky had been friends since they were kids, and she knew him better than anyone. He teased her like a brother, and sometimes, she thought that's all he'd ever see her as. It stung a little, knowing this might be their last night together before he shipped out to the front, but she tried to keep that buried deep down, hidden behind a casual smile.

Steve was next to her, smaller and more reserved, fidgeting in his ill-fitting suit. He gave her a knowing look, his eyes glancing toward Bucky. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

"I'm fine," Jen shrugged, forcing a smile. "Just... making sure he has his fun before we send him off to war."

"You should dance with him," Steve shook his head, giving her a soft nudge.

"He should ask."

"He's been looking your way all night."

She shot him a skeptical look. "Bucky? Please, Steve. He's too busy with—" But before she could finish, Bucky peeled away from the girls, walking straight toward her with that cocky grin plastered on his face.

"Jen," Bucky said smoothly, his voice cutting through the music as he approached. "You gonna hide in the corner all night, or are you gonna come dance with me?"

Her heart skipped a beat, but she kept her composure, arching an eyebrow. "I thought you were busy with... them." she nodded toward the girls still waiting expectantly by the bar.

"They're fine." Bucky glanced back, shrugging with a dismissive grin. With a knee melting smile, the one that always made it impossible to say no, held out his hand. "Come on, Jen. One dance. You can't say no to me, especially tonight."

Jen looked at his hand, then glanced over at Steve, who was standing next to her, looking out of place in the bustling, lively club. His hands were tucked awkwardly into his jacket pockets, his eyes scanning the room like he'd rather be anywhere but there.

"I can't just leave Steve here by himself."

"I'm fine, Jen," he said quickly straightening up. "You go ahead. I was actually just about to head out."

"What?" Bucky's face fell for a moment, then he shook his head, taking a step toward Steve. "You're gonna leave your best pal and the most beautiful girl in the room just like that? Come on, Steve, it's one night. We gotta make the most of it."

"Yeah!" Jen nodded in agreement, turning to Steve with a small, pleading smile. She tried to focus on her other friend, ignoring James's words. "Stay a little longer, Steve. It wouldn't be the same without you."

"No, I'm good," he shook his head. "You know I'm not really cut out for this kind of thing. It's not like I'm dancing."

"We can talk some more," she tried to convince him.

"I had fun with you," he said, referring to their conversations. "Now go and have fun together."

Bucky let out an exaggerated groan, throwing his arm around Steve's shoulders in an overly dramatic show of frustration. "What are you talking about? You've got charm, Stevie. You just need a chance to show it off."

"Please? For me? Just stay for a little while longer." Jen stepped closer, gently resting her hand on Steve's arm.

"For Buck I decided to come here, and for you I decided to go," Steve met her gaze, with a faint smile. "Have fun."

"We want you here. Right, Jen?"

"O course," Jen agreed, her smile soft but insistent. "We're a trio. It doesn't feel right without you."

He looked at them both for a long moment, a flicker of something bittersweet in his eyes. He knew what tonight really meant—Bucky was shipping out tomorrow, and everything would change after that. But Steve had always been more comfortable in the background, and right now, watching Bucky and Jen laugh together, he couldn't help but feel like that's where he belonged.

"I appreciate it," he said, his voice sincere. And because he knew that tonight was important and could change everything between the two of his friends, he voiced his next words."But you two should have your dance. You deserve it."

"Alright, alright. But if you change your mind, you know where to find us." Bucky sighed, shaking his head. "Don't do anything stupid until I get back."

"How can I? Taking all the stupidity with you."

"Are you sure? We can have fun with you," she said, still trying to convince her other friend. "I can dance with him when he gets back."

"Just go," he rolled his eyes. "I just gave you the chance to act on your feelings."

She gasped with a smile and playfully smacked his bony arm. Bucky, seeing the interaction between his friends, stepped closer. He put a hand on Steve's shoulder, pulling him into his arms. She couldn't help but smile at their camaraderie, though her heart ached at the thought of Bucky leaving. She watched as Bucky's expression shifted from playful to sincere.

"Man, that guy's impossible." Barnes said as they watched Rogers walk away.

Jen nodded, staring away for a moment longer before turning back to Bucky and entering the dance again. "Yeah. But you've gotta admire him for it."

"You love that song!" With a dramatic flourish, Bucky straightened his posture, took a deep breath, and started to sing—badly. He mimicked the voice of the crooner on stage, deep and overly smooth.

"Wait!"

"Come on, Doll. One dance. For old time's sake."

Some day, when i'm awfully low,

when the world is cold,

i will feel a glow just thinking of you...

and the way you look tonight.

Smiling widely as she took his hand. Jen was proud that he wanted to dance with her instead some others girls who were looking at them with jealousy.

Yes you're lovely, with your smile so warm

and your cheeks so soft,

there is nothing for me but to love you,

and the way you look tonight.

Bucky led her to the dance floor, the warmth of his palm against hers sending a rush of emotions she didn't quite know how to handle. He pulled her close, and for a moment, the world around them faded away.

With each word your tenderness grows,

tearing my fear apart...

and that laugh that wrinkles your nose,

He sang, swaying them in the rhythm of the music. His voice made Jen laugh out loud with amusement.

it touches my foolish heart.

Lovely ... never, ever change.

keep that breathless charm.

won't you please arrange it?

"You know," Bucky said, suddenly becoming serious, but still smiling looking down. "I never really thanked you. For everything."

Jen tilted her head slightly, frowning. "Thanked me for what?"

"For sticking around," he said quietly, his voice losing some of its usual bravado. "For looking out for Steve. For being here tonight. You're always here when I need you."

Her heart twisted at the sincerity in his voice, and for a brief moment, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, there was more between them than either of them had realized. But before she could say anything, Bucky's playful grin returned, and he spun her around, making her laugh again.

'cause i love you ... just the way you look tonight.

Mm, mm, mm, mm,

just the way you look to-night.

As the song's slow melody came to an end, the two of them stopped swaying, standing together in the soft light of the club.

"You look lovely tonight, Doll," he said very close to her ear, almost whispered it. "And I love those red lips on you. It suits you."

But then, before she could thank him or even blush, much faster song came in and Bucky started spinning her left and right, making her baby pink dress swirl and her excited laugh escape her lips.

After many dances together, and even more jealous looks thrown at them, another song came to an end. For a moment, Bucky's hand lingered on her waist, and Jen felt the weight of everything unsaid between them.

"Walk you home?" he asked, his voice quieter now, more serious.

She nodded, her heart beating faster.

The streets of Brooklyn were quieter now, the distant hum of the city fading into the cool night air. Bucky walked beside Jen, his hands shoved into his pockets as they made their way down the familiar streets toward her apartment. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a soft glow on the pavement, and for a while, neither of them spoke.

"I'm gonna miss this," Bucky said eventually, his voice low. "Brooklyn. You. Steve."

"For Goodness sake! You act as if you'll die," Jen replied, trying to keep her voice steady. "You'll comeback."

Bucky stopped, turning to face her. His expression softened as he looked at her, his usual playful smirk replaced by something more vulnerable. The sounds of the city were distant, drowned out by the weight of their conversation as they stood in the quiet, dimly lit street. Jen could see the shift in him—the man who had always been so carefree, now grappling with the reality of war.

"You'll come back," she repeated, her voice firmer this time, as though saying it with more conviction might will it into truth. "Right down this street. I'll be waiting, Bucky. And everyone else too. They'll throw you one of those big, welcome-home parades. You'll be the hero of Brooklyn."

She gestured to the familiar row of brownstones, the stoops where they used to sit on warm summer evenings. "You'll march down this street, head held high, and everyone will be cheering for you."

He raised an eyebrow, his grin returning, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Everyone, huh? Even the old Mrs. Jenkins from down the block?"

Jen smiled, playing along. "Especially her! She'll be waving her flag, shouting the loudest, just to make sure you know how much she missed you. And she will be saying: Oh! James! That sweet man is my neighbor!"

Bucky chuckled, the sound warmer this time, and for a moment, it almost felt like nothing was changing. Like tomorrow, he wouldn't be leaving for war. Like he'd always be here—on this street, teasing her, laughing, making her feel like everything would be okay.

"And you'll be there?" he asked, his voice softer now. "Standing right here, waiting for me?"

"Of course," she said, without hesitation. "I'll be standing right here, Bucky. First in line. The moment I see you coming down this street, I'll be cheering louder than anyone."

Her heart skipped a beat as she said it, the weight of her words settling over her. She would wait, no matter how long it took. She had to believe he would come back, because the alternative was too terrifying to consider.

But Bucky's eyes darkened, the playful spark fading as he studied her face. There was something unreadable in his expression now, something more serious than she had ever seen in him. He hesitated, his hand dropping to his side as if the thought weighing on his mind was too heavy to speak aloud.

"And what if I don't come back?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The question hung in the air between them, cold and real. It was the question neither of them had dared to ask before.

Jen tried to laugh, but the sound was thin, almost brittle against the heaviness that Bucky's question left in the air. She gave him a playful shove, masking the tremor in her voice. "I'll go, find you, and kill you again. You know me—I'm not letting you off that easy."

Bucky chuckled, the tension between them easing slightly. His blue eyes softened with amusement and affection, but there was still that deeper, unspoken fear lurking behind his smile. "You could do that," he said, his voice light, but it didn't stay that way. His expression sobered, and he looked down at the ground before glancing back up at her. "But what if... I really won't come back?"

The weight of them pressed down on Jen's chest like a stone. She could feel her heart hammering, her mind racing with all the terrible possibilities that she had tried to push away. She swallowed, hard. "Don't say that, Bucky," she whispered. "Don't even think it."

"I'm just being real, Jen." His voice was quiet, almost resigned. "This war... it's not like a fight in an alley, where you know the odds, where you can just walk away with a few bruises. People don't always come back."

Jen felt a lump rising in her throat, and she hated it—hated how real his words were, how they echoed the fear that had been gnawing at the edges of her heart since the moment he told her he was shipping out. She hated how smart and serious he suddenly turned.

"You'll come back," she insisted, her voice more forceful than she intended. "You will."

Bucky's eyes softened at her determination, but he didn't answer right away. Instead, he took a small step closer, his gaze fixed on hers, as if searching her face for something—maybe reassurance, maybe hope. When he finally spoke, his voice was gentle, but it carried the weight of all the uncertainties that had been brewing inside him.

"You know me, Jen. I'll do everything I can to come back. But... if I don't..." He trailed off, his jaw tightening as though it pained him to say it aloud. "If something happens to me...Don't cry too much after your best friend. Live for both of us."

For a moment, neither of them moved, the weight of the words they didn't say filling the quiet. The truth was, no matter how hard she tried to shut the feeling, that fear now clawed at the surface, pushing her to say something, to do something that might keep him with her just a little longer.

But then Bucky, ever the master of changing the mood, grinned and bumped her shoulder with his. "Enough of the sad stuff. You're supposed to send me off with a smile, Jen, not a frown."

She forced a small laugh, blinking back the sting in her eyes. "Asshole."

They walked the rest of the way to her apartment in silence, but this time it was a more comfortable quiet. The kind that came from years of friendship, from understanding each other without needing to say a word.

When they reached her door, Jen turned to face him, biting her lower lip as she tried to find the right words to say goodbye. The ones she really wanted to say, the ones she'd kept locked away for too long, caught in her throat.

"I—" she started, but Bucky stepped closer before she could finish, his voice cutting through the stillness.

"I'll come back, Jen," he said again, more softly this time. "I swear."

There was a weight behind his words that made her chest tighten, but she managed to smile. "You better. Or I'll come find you myself."

He chuckled at that, shaking his head. "You would, wouldn't you?"

"Of course," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, Bucky hesitated again, like he wanted to say something more, do something more. But then he leaned down, pressing a light kiss to her nose, his hand resting gently on her shoulder. It wasn't the kind of kiss she'd imagined in her heart, the one filled with the confessions she was too scared to make, but it was enough. It was Bucky.

With a deep, steadying breath, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight, almost desperate embrace. He took a deep breath, trying to take the smell of her perfumes for the future. The warmth of his body against hers was a stark contrast to the cold night air, and Jen could feel the rapid beat of his heart through the fabric of his uniform.

The hug was firm, as if he were trying to hold onto the moment for as long as he could, to draw strength from it. To take her with him. His arms encircled her, holding her close, and Jen felt a rush of emotions flood through her—fear, love, sadness, and an overwhelming need to hold onto this fragile moment with him.

For a long while, they stood there in the quiet street, lost in the comfort of each other's presence. When he pulled back, his eyes lingered on hers for a long moment before he took a step back. As he did, he took her much smaller hand to his lip and before placing the gentlest kiss there, he whispered: "Goodnight, Jen."

Due to his intense eye contact, she almost said nothing at all. But when the well-known teasing smirk started forming on his face, she came back to the reality.

"Goodnight, Bucky," she whispered, watching as he turned and disappeared into the shadows of the street.

"I love you, Doll!" he screamed, empty street echoing his voice. He turned toward her, waving his hand and slowly backing away. "Wait for me!"

Her stupid heart almost jumped out of her chest and ran away with him - or maybe it did. She knew he didn't meant those words like that, but Jen still stood there on the steps of her building with a smile for a long time after he was gone, staring into the empty street where he'd vanished. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to fight off the sudden chill that had nothing to do with the cold night air.

Sudden regret washing down her body.

She hadn't said it out loud, looking into his eyes. She hadn't told him how she really felt. And now he was leaving—off to war, off to face things she couldn't even imagine. And she didn't know if she'd ever get the chance to tell him.

With a heavy sigh, she turned and went inside, the echo of Bucky's promise still ringing in her ears.

She sat down at her desk, took out a piece of paper and started writing what her heart was screaming for a while now.

Clinging to their last night, because it was all she had.

l

[bellewintersroe]

Floyd Talbert - Spicy 18+

Ok I needed Talbert so here’s a spicy read for him 🌶️🥵

Floyd Talbert x reader smut - feelings have been pent up for a long ass time, apart from some close encounters Floyd and OC waited out a long two years of tension 😬

this is the dirtiest thing I’ve ever written so I will NOT be proof reading so I don’t cringe reading it back lmfao time to sin 😈

Jenny’s gaze was focused on the handsome soldier as she followed him around the pub with her eyes. Her lids felt heavy as she spun due to intoxication, grabbing onto the table for support. Floyd Talbert, the most handsome man in all of Easy company had Jen in some kind of trance. She wanted him, bad. So when his watch landed on her, the table end became tighter and tighter against her paling fist.

Floyd’s lips pulled into a knowing smirk, he’d been stealing glances at her all night, but hadn’t had the chance to go over and talk to his close friend. If there was any sign of him fraternising with an Easy company nurse, it could’ve had the both of them kicked out- so lingering stares was the Floyd and Jenny were going to get.

She felt her stomach twist and knot in anticipation, seeing the wet of his tongue slip over his plump lips with ease. With a gentle gasp, she turned away. Her core was beginning to throb for Floyd- the red wine not doing much to help- but she almost felt ashamed for feeling that way in public. The thoughts she had were outright dirty, if anybody could read her mind they’d think she was a pervert. The thought of his tongue across her folds, licking over her nipples as he gazed up to her with those wide eyes.

When she did turn up to meet those eyes again, Floyd was gone. Borderline humiliated by the growing bulge in his pants, he’d adjusted his crotch and left outside to cool down. Floyd imagined Jenny coming outside, surprising him as he pushed her up against the brick of the wall, kissing her, devouring her like he’d needed so bad. He’d imagined how soft her tits felt against his hands, it was hard to see what they looked like through her uniform, but in PT gear he could see the swell of them and hardening of her nipples every time she and the other nurses were working on their physical fitness.

This wasn’t the first of these kind of encounters, Floyd and Jenny had it out for each other since day one. The way she’d gaze up to him drove the soldier crazy, and occasionally, she’d brush past him, causing him, a grown man, to get all flustered in the face. Neither of them were aware of the others feelings, but from all the hints and lingering gazes, there was a growing tension that would only grow worse over time.

Than evening, Floyd laid in the single bed of the house he was billeted in, staring at the roof, deep in thought about Jenny. Adding alcohol to the mix was bad, and whilst Floyd had self control (seeing as Tip was asleep in the bed next to him) his cock hurt from how hard he was. He didn’t think he’d ever felt this way in his whole life, he was rock fucking hard and the most he could do was give himself a squeeze and try to push Jenny to the back of his mind.

The fact she was so out of reach and the two of them being together would be frowned upon in the army made Floyd want it more. It made it seem dirtier, more desirable. God, Floyd would dream about her being on her knees for him as he pushed her into somewhere secluded and she sucked the life out of him with that pretty mouth.

~~~~

Whilst Floyd was no longer occupied with taking care of trigger, and the chaos of Alley being injured, he found his eyes wandering back over to where Jenny rested. His tongue licked over his dry lips, feeling a dull ache in his chest as he looked over her expression. She looked exhausted, cleaning off the dried blood on her hands. Floyd felt bad for admiring her- but this time it wasn’t in a way that was sexual. It confused the hell out of Floyd. He even winced when Joe Liebgott sat down next to her.

The playful look on her face soon returned at her friends arrival. Floyd’s jaw tensed as Joe squeezed her knee supportively. If he did that everybody around there would freak and spread rumours, he started to question if his attraction to her was more than sexual. The men around him seemed to tease him a lot for it, maybe they saw something in Floyd before he did? That made him paranoid as hell. Joe Liebgott being so close to Jenny made him paranoid as hell.

Whilst he was so zoned out, Jenny’s own eyes lifted, looking at Floyd through her eyelashes, just to see how he was doing. Much to her surprise, Floyd was already looking with a dead pan stare, a borderline sadness covering his face as she shuffled next to her friend Joe, feeling restless.

“Floyd. You okay?” She gently asked, concerned for his wellbeing. He seemed to snap out of it, embarrassed by Joe’s lifting smirk next to her as he opened his mouth to speak. “Uh- yeah, yeah I’m good.” Floyd physically shook his head, shaking any thoughts about her he had, out of his mind.

“You sure?” Oh god, Floyd felt like his whole body might ignite on fire if she questioned him again. He nodded with a tight lip smile, glancing back over to an amused Liebgott. He mentally made a note to punch him in the smug face later.

“Where’s that dog of yours?” She then pushed herself up, oh god, walking right towards him as he struggled to keep his eyes on hers. Craving his touch, her hands ran over his shoulders attentively. Oh god, Floyd could’ve moaned at the slightest touch from her. “I wanna see him, what’s his name? Tiger?” “Tiger?!” Luz spurted out a laugh. Floyd didn’t even realise he was awake. “Hey, Johnny, she thought the dog was called Tiger.” “It’s Trigger.” Floyd smiled sheepishly, amused by her adorable mistake. “Oh, right. Same thing, shut up Luz!” She called out, all without breaking eye contact with Floyd. “I wanna see him.”

Springing into action, Floyd jumped up to his feet, borderline bursting with excitement at her attention. “Let’s go find him.” With a nod of the head, Jenny followed quietly behind as they slipped out of the barn. It was silent at first, Jenny didn’t know what to say or do, apart from watch Floyd call over the dog. His dirty blonde hair was slightly messy, giving Floyd a dishevelled look, and if she stared too long, she’d start to picture him looking that way after she’d been tugging on his hair during sex.

Taking a deep breath, she flashed Floyd an innocent smile despite the impure thoughts, noticing the dog running over as she fell to her knees. Right in front of Floyd, he physically reacted, eyes widening as he let out a strained noise, before realising she was reaching down for the dog. Fuck, that was embarrassing.

“Oh, hi Trigger!” Jenny greeted, glancing up to Floyd with a strange look. “What’s wrong?”

“Uh- nothing! I didn’t realise you liked dogs?!” He rambled out as Jenny felt a blush creep to her face when she noticed the angle. She was on her knees below him, head tilted up, positioned perfectly in front of his/

“I love them.” She smirked, purposefully giving him the eyes as Floyd tightened his jaw, not believing what he was seeing. He had to blink a couple times before he felt the sudden rush of blood to his crotch and- oh fuck. Oh no. Talbert fell to his knees quickly, concealing the semi that was forming in his army pants. He’d never gotten that hard in his whole life, but the way she was in that position was everything he’d ever dreamed of.

She didn’t notice his slight bulge in his pants, she too didn’t want to make her feelings obvious due to the possibility of punishment the two could face. Instead, her focus was on Trigger who was laid down in front of her, rolling over so he could have his stomach scratched. “I always loved dogs. Had them growing up.” She then spoke, cooing down to the dog below. Floyd’s shoulder knocked hers as he began stroking the dog too.

“So did I. Had this big Labrador called Bull, he looked kinda like our Bull thinkin’ ‘bout it.” She softly laughed at his words, his eyes softening as he gazed over her. Only up close could he truly admire how beautiful she was, and only up close did she realise how nervous he was. The confident persona Floyd once up-kept was nowhere to be found now she was outside alone with him. Truthfully, she did want to see the dog, but she also wanted to be alone with Floyd.

She thought about kissing him, like Joe Liebgott had told her to. It was no secret that she liked Tab a little more than the other guys, and it was definitely no secret that he felt the same way back to her. Whilst Jenny was completely aware of Floyd’s emotions, it only made what they wanted to happen more impossible. She yearned for him, late at night, in the day, during combat. It was becoming a constant thought, and maybe if she just expressed that to him it would become less distracting.

But she couldn’t. No matter how much their shoulders bumped, or how often their hands would graze against each others. The coast wasn’t clear enough, or there was too much hushed laughter coming from inside the barn. So another night passed where nothing came of their close encounters. She’d shrugged it off, and promised herself she’d make a move during their next meeting.

~~~~~~~~~~

“She likes you, dude. Just- just make a move on her!” Malarkey stammered out in frustration as Floyd stood, dazed and smiling like a schoolboy. “So she told you this?!” “For the finally time yes! Well- she told Skip and he told me and now I’m telling you- so just do something before you get sent to god damned Japan!” Floyd felt like he was in a dream, birds flew around his head as he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. Now at the end of the war, things were becoming less strict- and their friendship was becoming mellow and maybe a little too comfortable.

It was all going perfectly until Chuck Grant, both of their close friend, was shot in the head by a drunk replacement from I company. The pain and worry both of them felt was unimaginable, as it was for the rest of the men. Floyd was so angry, so wound up and most of all stressed. He’d taken over Grant’s position as second platoon in first company; and not only could she, but everybody could see how stressed he was.

Whilst in a meeting, Floyd tapped his foot harshly, feeling the strain of the position, missing working amongst his friends. He’d ripped off his blazer and had been pacing the room for the past 10 minutes when Jenny had approached him with papers he’d had to fill out. “Floyd it’s fine.” She soothed, watching his bulging arms rip off the clothing. Next, came his tie, fumbling with it as he dropped it back onto the office chair. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t turn her on. But now wasn’t the right time, he needed calming down, he needed support- not to be checked out.

“Its not! It’s not fine! I can’t stand this position, it’s the worst thing I’ve ever done.” He slumped against the window ledge, as did his voice. As it fell flat she exhaled through her nose and ran her hand over his broad back. He was warm to touch, and so was she. Floyd’s tensed muscles released under her touch, enjoying the way her hand slid up to the pained muscles.

“You should speak to Speirs. About working back with the men- if that’s what you’d like.” She spoke quietly, Floyd calming yet a new kind of frustration running through him. His brow knotted at the tightening in his chest. Why couldn’t he shake these feelings?! How was she so close to him and he couldn’t do anything. Floyd couldn’t stand it- he couldn’t bare it. He couldn’t even look at her, a guardian Angel, yet she had such a strong hold over him mentally, physically and sexually, without anything more than a hug occurring between the two of them.

“Oh fuck.” Floyd sighed, his mind now internally debating on just pulling her in to kiss her. He was worried if he did, he might break her. He had so much pent up emotions he was worried how harsh his grip on her may be. “What’s wrong?” Her voice was so smooth, worried, laced with concern as her eyes wandered down to the paling of his tight fists, gripping the window-cill. In one way or another, she knew she could calm him down, seeing him all pent up and in charge did something to her. She liked it when he had to give her orders, she loved calling him sir. And so did he.

“Nothin’.” Floyd was about to bottle it until her hand began sliding over his tight fist. “C’mon, Tab.” She hummed, attempting to release his grip. He did, flattening his palms as he gulped, feeling her hand rub over his arm. “What can I do?” She held onto his forearm, his eyes finally turning to meet her own. She was so beautiful, so innocent yet so devious, Floyd knew how she’d flirt with him, move her hips more when she knew he was close, brush past him, purposefully call him sir. He couldn’t bare it. God, he needed her and he needed her now.

With one swift move, Floyd grabbed her face with both his hands, walking her back into the wall as he moved forwards with an inhale, pressing a slightly harsh kiss against her lips before pulling back. “Tell me what I can do, sir?” She was breathless, but still playing as she gripped his veiny arms, feeling him move back in as he met her lips with his own once again.

The kiss was all either of them had ever wanted to feel, she was moaning into the kiss, gasping as he held her tighter and tighter. Her fists balled in his hair, on his uniform, up his shirt- the desperation was uncontrollable. The kiss made Floyd dizzy, he held the wall for support as he became lost in his emotions, lost in her. This is all either of them had wanted for so fucking long, and now they finally had one another.

He wanted to make her feel good, pleasure her, feel her, god he was already straining against the fabric of his trousers and he was scared he’d come in his pants if she let out anymore whimpers or gasps. “Talbert.” She gasped when his lips moved down to her soft neck, sucking and kissing, nipping and licking as he desperately moved back up to her lips, pushing his tongue against her own. There was nothing gentle about their make out, each of their cores were aching, and she could feel herself throbbing for him.

She suddenly remembered the urge to calm him down, hand running down his front and wasting no time to begin unzipping his trousers. “Jen-“ he gasped, feeling her moving down onto her knees, he was worried he’d blow his load embarrassingly quick. It was all going so perfect until footsteps thudded back towards the room they were occupying.

Fuck, no, fuck, no, no, no!

“Fuck!” Floyd pulled her back up to her feet as she gasped out a quick curse of, “shit!” Fixing up her hair as Babe Heffron stood slightly confused at the door. “Oh! Jen- Ma’m.” He corrected. “I didn’t know you were-“ his voice cut off when a smirk rose to his face. “Sarg, I got your papers.” Babe cut himself off, glancing between the two flustered individuals before him. The tension made him feel a little awkward, as did the obvious tent in his friends pants which he attempted to hide.

“Oh, right. Thank you.” Floyd cleared his throat, not wanting to move any closer in case his prominent erection became obvious. He pretty much knew it already was, glancing quickly to a sheepish looking Jenny who bit down on her bottom lip. She was borderline giggling, attempting to hide her amusement as Babe quickly nodded, throwing the papers down onto the table before exiting the room and thankfully closing the door behind him.

A giggle escaped her lips, Floyd snickered at her amusement before making his ways back over to the papers Babe had left for him. She was red in the face, blushing from the hot encounter as she fanned her face. “I should leave you to fill them out.” Realistically, Floyd knew these papers were late and had to be in for 5 tonight. It was currently 3. But he didn’t want her to leave, not at all. “What? No, no, it’s fine.” He insisted, moving around the room to be face to face with her again. Her chest warmed at his request, smiling and gazing over his face. The both of them had cooled down from their desperation, a relief washing over the two of them now that their emotions were somewhat in the open.

“Floyd, you gotta get them in in like two hours. I’ll see you later, alright?” He found himself melting into her kiss, nodding a little too eagerly as she smiled once again. “Okay.” She squeezed his arm before moving around him to leave the office. Floyd didn’t know whether he should’ve kissed her goodbye or not, would that be a new norm for the two of them? He hoped it would be, he was practically bursting with excitement, sitting down in the chair to fill out the paperwork with a shit eating grin on his face.

~~~~~~~~

Floyd felt his confidence immediately grow back as he made eye contact with Jenny. His Jenny, he’d decided he wanted to ask her out after kissing her once. The way she looked at him gave Floyd butterflies, and vice versa, he couldn’t contain the happiness he felt for her, their unfinished business keeping him constantly on his toes and his head spinning. Whilst almost two weeks had passed, their alone time was sparse, but it was becoming a common antic for the two to share gentle kisses and sweet moments every now and then.

As she chatted to Gene about their training, she found her eyes wandering towards the dirty blonde stood not far away. Her chest fluttered and smile lifted as she noticed Tab sheepishly lingering around. “Hopefully we’re not back next week for more training.” Gene nudged her arm in a friendly manner, ending the conversation in the same way he always did.

“I hope not! I’ll see you tomorrow either way.” She smiled, saying goodbye to her close friend before a different kind of smile sprung to her face. At first, she felt a little shy seeing Floyd slowly fidgeting around, “what’re you doing here?” A giggle escaped her lips, surprised when he greeted her with a hug.

“I got off early, just came to say hi…” he shrugged casually as she tilted her head back, allowing him to press a lingering kiss on her lips. She melted into the kiss, as did he, his fingers tangling in her soft hair. “Oh, just to say hi?” She giggled, hands wrapping over the back of his neck. “Maybe somethin’ else…” just as Floyd moved closer for another kiss he was craving, the clearing of a throat behind them caused her to jump back with a surprised gasp.

“Captain Speirs! I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were… there.” She awkwardly apologised as she could see Ron trying to stay professional. Despite training and the looming prospect of being shipped off to Germany, many of the men, including Ron Speirs had become somewhat friendlier.

“Sorry, sir.” Floyd gently apologised, a hand still lingering on her lower back as Ron gave them a tight lipped smile. “As you were.” He eased before walking past to get to wherever it was he was attending. Her gaze then landed back on Floyd, giggling in amusement as he chuckled a quick, “c’mon.” And hurried her towards an area that no Captain or Babe Heffron could come and bother the pair.

“Jenny.” He muttered, once he’d pulled her safely inside the emptied house. Before she could respond, he’d pressed his lips to hers once again. She smiled knowingly into the kiss, ever since her and Floyd’s encounter in the office, she could tell he’d needed her. She felt the same, she always thought about it, what could’ve happened if Babe didn’t walk in- if she’d given him the pleasure she’d dreamt of, god, she needed even get to relieve his stress in the way she wanted. She was almost desperate to see him pleasured under her touch, now would be her opportunity.

Her hand rested on his stomach as his began entwining in her hair, holding her as physically close as he could. He couldn’t get enough, neither could she, there was so much of each other to explore, the excitement was too much. To stop Floyd craning his neck, she moved forwards so his head could rest comfortably under his arm tucked under his head. Slowly, and with a little worry, Jenny’s hand slipped further down Floyd’s abdomen. His increase in breath was evident, his heart rate speeding as he felt a warmth spread in his lower stomach.

Dragging her hand back up, Floyd let out a soft hum, her tongue slipping across his lips as he opened his mouth more, moving deeper into the kiss. The sound of their kiss and her hand on the fabric of his shirt was the only thing that filled the bedroom. It wasn’t that Floyd was becoming impatient, but the throbbing of his cock was beginning to ache, and when he ground his hips up slightly, Jenny shifted her touch over his bulge. She took a moment to glance down, peering at the large tent in his pants as she felt her core become hotter at the sight.

Her small hand moved over to his strained cock, squeezing as they both moaned at the sensation. Now, Floyd’s arm was freed from under his head which rested on the pillow. As she began applying more and more pressure, Floyd’s breathing sped up into the kiss. His soft touch landed on her arm, resting it on the warmth of her skin as his eyes opened to peer into her own. She watched him with an inquisitive look, Floyd moaned in response, making her head spin as he felt like he was seeing stars.

The movements were rapidly increasing his pleasure, and he was becoming more and more breathless. “What about you?” He managed to gulp out, “not now.” Jen cooed in response, moving down to press a kiss against his lips again. This time, there was no escaping this kiss, his hand clutched the back of her head, the other holding tighter and tighter over her arm as he became lost in the sensation of her jerking hun off through his pants.

She didn’t realise, and neither did he, but he was close to his climax. Well, he did notice- but it crept up on him in a way that was so quick he didn’t know how to tell her. Floyd’s rapid breathing became even more jagged as he exhaled and inhaled out loud, fingers digging into her arm as he felt a coil building inside his abdomen.

“Shit, Jenny, wait!” He went to protest but he felt the warmth of his cum spurting out of his cock and into his pants becoming overwhelming, a groan cutting him off. “Floyd.” She borderline moaned his name, increasing his pleasure as he let out a pathetic whine, grip loosening as her movements stopped.

After a brief few seconds of seeing stars on the roof above, Floyd snapped back into reality. “Oh, fuck- I-I didn’t realise I was gonna do that. Not so soon.” He began babbling, looking down to the mess he’d made seeping through the fabric of his pants. Whilst he felt relieved significantly, he still felt the slight embarrassment of cumming before he could even touch her. “I’m sorry.” He panted out, hair sticking to his damp forehead.

She, on the other hand didn’t understand his humiliated exterior. She thought it was the hottest thing she’d ever seen, managing to pleasure him to an orgasm was her goal. “Why? I wanted to make you feel good.” A shy smile appeared on her face as he kissed her tenderly. “Don’t say sorry.” She then reassured, sensing his embarrassment.

“I didn’t even get to touch you.” Floyd then spoke his thoughts out loud. “That’s a shame.” She teased, knocking his legs as she glanced over the wet patches on his crotch. It turned her on, she liked the somewhat control she had in the situation, seeing Floyd so pleasured and all hot and bothered.

“I gotta clean up, shit.” Floyd covered his crotch, catching a real sight of himself. Fuck, he was a mess, worst of all, he still wanted to have sex with her- badly. Now he couldn’t help but bathe in the embarrassment of blowing his load before he even had sex with her. He’d been waiting two years for that moment, he doubted she’d want to have sex with him now… With a slightly bruised ego, Talbert hurried over to the bathroom praying nobody else would be bunking in the same house as he’d chosen out. Jenny giggled to herself on the bed, proud of her achievements. She didn’t understand why Floyd was so awkward about it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do I look like I can play baseball?!” Jenny swung the heavy bat next to her, digging it into the sand below. “Not really.” Floyd thought about it for a moment, scanning over her frame. “Too pretty of a face to get it all messed up in sport.” He flirted as her eyes rolled, but the smile remained.

“C’mon, I’ll show you.” Taking her by the hand, Floyd tugged her close up against his body, nestling her against his front as she slotted in perfectly. “Just hold it at the bottom.” He instructed as her lips pursed, turned on by the close contact. His hands guided over hers, eyes focusing on the way her fingers wrapped around the bat, slipping down in a phallic manner. Floyd lips fell agape as she pushed her backside into his crotch, the blood rushing from his brain down to his cock once again.

“Like this?” She teased, nestling her hips back into him as Floyd let out an inwards moan. “Floyd?” Jenny repeated, turning up to him with a fake curiosity. “You know.” Floyd dropped the bat from both their hands, down to the floor below. “We’re not going to war again, we should be celebrating? Not playing god damn baseball.”

Jenny felt her cheeks flush as a giggle escaped her throat. “Maybe you’re right.” “Maybe?! I am right, c’mon, baby.” Floyd felt eager as he wrapped his larger hand around hers.

The excitement was evident in the kiss they shared, Floyd had her pressed up against the wall as they hungrily made out, much to everybody else’s surprises. Men wolf whistled and some yelled for them to get a room, of course Jenny stuck a middle finger up as Floyd ushered her into the empty house, closing the door behind them both. Jenny felt eager, as did Floyd, practically pouncing on him and deepening the kiss, his tongue swiping across her bottom lip as she slowly felt her core increasingly aching the more they kissed.

“Floyd.” She panted out as he kissed over her neck whilst attempting to unbutton the front of her white nurses dress. Floyd thought she looked gorgeous in her uniform, it hugged her in all the right places. If he wasn’t so desperate, he’d take his time and take her in that dress. “Hold still.” Floyd muttered gently, struggling to unbutton her.

Whilst her breasts were somewhat revealed, his fingers were almost shaking with anticipation, ditching his attempt to free her before his hand began hitching up the bottom of her skirt. Finally, Jenny thought to herself, sighing as his fingers pressed over the centre of her aching pussy. She’d been thinking of this moment for so long, too long, she was probably already soaking for him, ready for him to take her up against the wall- on the floor. She’d have him anywhere.

Floyd’s mouth was slightly agape, watching her pleasure increase as small, breathy moans escaped her mouth. It’s all Floyd had ever thought about, knowing she felt good made him feel good. Fuck, he was trying his best not to rush it. “I can’t wait.” She panted, flush against his neck as he almost moaned at her words. Before Floyd could register, her hands were pulling at the waist band of his PT gear shorts.

“Please, Floyd.” When the begging started Floyd knew he’d make a fool of himself to not oblige. How could he turn down such a beautiful thing? “Okay, baby.” He hushed in reassurance, tugging on her underwear and stocking down. Fuck, he could feel the warmth of her heat, he wanted to taste her, to feel her- fuck he was so dizzy from the desperation.

Jenny’s hands pulled down Floyd’s shorts as well as his underwear, feeling him spin her around so he could lay her down on the sofa which lay nearby. She gulped, freeing herself of her shoes, stockings and underwear whilst Floyd lifted her hips, shuffling up her dress as he pressed his fingers to his lips, licking them before pressing them to her already wet pussy.

Oh god. His touch felt so good, rubbing over her clit that had been neglected for some time now. She knew there would be a burn when he was inside her, but he eased her into it with one, then two fingers. “Floyd.” She writhed her hips, circling them against his fingers as he hit the perfect spot inside of her. Oh god, it was the most beautiful sight Floyd had ever seen.

He seemed to lose all his words as she moaned out his name, head pressed back into the pillow as she stared wide eyed at him desperately. When she reached out for his cock, Floyd had to take a minute to relax and not get too carried away.

“Want it to feel good for you, baby.” He cooed as her fist wrapped around his member. “It does. It feels so good, Floyd, fuck.” His jaw tensed, free hand stroking over her clothed breast as she let go of him, to undo more of her dress. Fuck, fuck, Floyd’s eyes were wondering and he could feel himself getting overwhelmed.

“Fuck me now, Floyd. Please.” With one last beg, Floyd had nestled himself between Jenny’s legs, positioning himself as the head of his cock, leaking with precum, rubbed against her wetness. “Fuck- i-I don’t have a condom.” The thought suddenly sprung upon him, a panic washing over him like no other.

“It’s fine- I just- just pull out.” Both of their minds were too clouded with sex to decline the moment, so when Floyd had pushed the first few inches in, it felt like nothing but pure bliss for him. He was careful not to bottom out too quick, going slowly to ease the burn of the stretch she felt. It had been so long since she’d had sex, it almost felt foreign- but the satisfaction was too good.

Her hands dug into his ass, making him a little red in the face as his hands propped his body up on either side of the couch pillows. Floyd swallowed, glancing over her now relaxed face. Her eyes were closed and mouth was hung open as he slowly thrusted more into her. Soon, a rhythm had formed, and he had to caress over her cheek to bring her around from the immense pleasure.

“Floyd… feels so good.” She moaned, Floyd gulped again to prevent an embarrassingly loud moan leaving his lips. “Yeah?” He smiled, moving down to kiss her. “Yeah.” A whine escaped her mouth as he pushed his full length in her now, a groan escaping his mouth which he couldn’t control.

To Jenny, his moans were the hottest things ever. They turned her on more than she would’ve ever thought, and slowly her legs hitched up further and wider to allow more room for him to fuck her.

Soon, their hands were all over each other, gripping, squeezing, pulling as they panted and moaned, the sound of their skin slapping against each others filling the room. Floyd thought he’d cum embarrassingly quick, but when her pants became louder and he felt the tensing of her pussy, he felt in awe at her cumming without any warning.

“Fuck, Jen… did you just, cum?” Floyd groaned as she exhaled, “fuck… yeah.” His head dropped again, another moan escaping his mouth as he felt a pleasure building in his stomach.

“Can you cum for me?” The gush of wetness he felt pooling between her legs made her even more lubricated and he was thrusting in and out of her at a much more rapid pace now, chasing the high as the pleasure became ecstatic. “yeah-“ he gasped. “Fuck, Floyd, cum for me!” The louder her moans became, sensitive from her orgasm, Floyd inched closer and closer to his orgasm.

He thought he was on cloud nine when his orgasm did approach, he’d pulled out just in time, spilling out onto her stomach with a loud groan. Jenny smiled, hands running over the back of his thick hair as he came over her abdomen and lower stomach. “God.” He muttered, exhaling a breath he’d been holding.

After what felt like minutes, Floyd shifted, moving up to give Jenny a kiss as he gazed over her pink cheeks adoringly. “I think I love you, Jenny.” “I think I love you too Floyd…”

—————————

….

LMAOOO IDK WHY IVE WRITTEN THIS HELLO ??!!!!

[gwendefender4life]

"no man should be that flexible."

guidelines !?

no smut! obvious enough, but the characters in the shows are minors! and as a minor myself, it is incredibly uncomfortable for me to write smut. the most i will write for is making out, and even then it will be very brief and undescriptive.

be respectful! simple and common sense, but some people don't have that. especially when it comes to the characters i like/hate. if you don't like my content or my opinions, LEAVE!

be patient! i have my own life outside of the screen and i have other priorities. if you have an issue with how much time i'm taking to finish a request, ask elsewhere!

don't request for the characters i hate! they will be included in my dni list as "____ stans". if you request for them, i will delete your ask!

don't request for characters that i do not include in my "character list" section! like i said before, if you request for them i will delete your ask!

no dark content! this means yandere, pedophilia, incest, step-incest, etc. even if you support this content, dni!

i write for basically anything else! you can request self-insert x character, oc x character, character x character, platonic relationships, familial relationships, etc. as long as they follow the guidelines/dni list!

character list !?

gen 1 - alejandro, bridgette, dj, duncan, eva, geoff, gwen, harold, izzy, justin, katie, leshawna, lindsay, noah, owen, sadie, trent, tyler

gen 2 - anne maria, dakota, dawn, jo, lightning, mike, zoey

gen 3 - ella, jasmine, rodney, scarlett, shawn

gen 4 - axel, caleb, damien, julia, millie, mk, nichelle, priya, scary girl/lauren

rr - emma, jacques, josee, kitty

"your parents must love this show, gets you out of the house!"

dni list !?

blaineley, chris, cody, courtney, heather, sierra, gwourtney, courtney x scott, & chase x emma (td 2023) stans

anne maria, axel, b, brick, cameron, crimson, dakota, damien, dawn, dj, duncan, ella, emma (rr), ennui, eva, gwen, izzy, jacques, jasmine, jen, jo, josee, julia, justin, katie, kitty, leshawna, lightning, lindsay, macarthur, mike, noah, owen, rodney, sadie, sam, sanders, scarlett, tom, trent, zee, zoey, gwuncan, leharold, gwent, & nemma antis

racists

homophobes

transphobes

misogynists

ableists

religion-shamers

xenophobes

pro/com/darkshippers

pedophiles

incest

"you know what? I'M GETTING A SANDWICH!"

[td-rarepairs]

Wheel anon is back, ready to store your random ship needs, and also maybe give you a new random ship for you to hyperfixate on!

Now, we will have a good four ships this time, since this is the fourth time I'm doing one for gen 1-3 and rr

The ships we got are...

Zoey x Jen (Jeney, Maybe? Also, a new feature, for this, ship name provider!)

Brody x Brick (BrBr, if you will)

Beth x DJ (No comment here)

And finally

Staci x Courtney (Courti?)

Now I shall wait until I finish up gen 4 (yes, I'm gonna do all the remaining randomizations for it today) to continue this - Wheel Anon

.