#i haven’t packed or anything so i also need to make sure i have enough time to get ready before i pick up my car

[mildmayfoxe]

wild friday night baby i am getting into bed at 10pm

[boomerang109]

i have genuinely been very productive today and that’s a very big deal for me!

i have not, however, packed or cleaned out the fridge or finished the dishes. and i leave for the airport in 13 hours. i need to do those things

[fetusgooseandjuice]

Trust Me

Pairing(s): Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: You haven’t been able to sleep in a couple weeks, and Natasha knows just the way to get you to close your eyes.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: None? (If anyone finds any feel free to message me!)

Author’s Note: Heyy guys! I know I haven’t posted a fic in like 6 months, but I got writers block and it just never really went away. I’m not sure when I’ll post again, but I’ve had the idea for this fic for a while and I finally got the motivation to write it. It might not be that good but I hope you enjoy it at least a little! Think of it as a little Christmas gift :)

Author’s Note Pt. 2: Also, this is not proofread because I just wanted to get it posted so there might be some spelling and grammar errors!

You heavily sighed once again for probably the fifth time in the past five minutes. It’s been a few hours since you and Natasha had called it a night, and yet here you were at nearly three in the morning still lying wide awake.

Although it’s not as if you were surprised or expecting anything else. You’d been having trouble falling asleep since the first night you and Natasha arrived in Norway.

Despite not having gotten many hours of sleep lately, for some reason you still weren’t tired and still could not fall asleep.

When your girlfriend came to you a week and a half ago and told you she had no other choice but to leave the states in order to evade the government after the whole incident between Tony and Steve, you instantly decided you’d be going with her without a second thought and left no room for her to disagree.

After all she should’ve known you’d follow her anywhere, but you guess it’s taken a toll on you.

You wanted to sleep, and yet you weren’t sure what was keeping you up. Maybe you were worried about something happening to Natasha?

‘What if she gets caught? Or what if we both somehow get hurt?’ you thought.

But you knew she was more than capable of taking care of herself and keeping you safe at the same time.

Even with the amount of times you told yourself not to worry, your mind wouldn’t listen.

You eventually sighed and turned your head to look at the redhead behind you. Her arms were wrapped tightly around you and no matter how much she shifted throughout the night, she never let you go.

The mere thought of that would be enough to bring a smile to your face if you weren’t so frustrated with yourself.

Deciding you’d had enough of laying there awake, you carefully unraveled your girlfriend’s arms from around you and slid out of bed.

You almost shivered at the cool temperature of the trailer as your bare feet touched the floor and you made your way into the kitchen.

The random plastic bags on the counter rustled as you rummaged through them in search of something to snack on, finally coming across a bottle of water and a pack of chips you’d never heard of.

As you went to open the cap of the bottle, a pair of arms slipping around your waist startled you. The yelp you let out made the person behind you chuckle, and you relaxed recognizing the sound.

“Sorry, malysh (baby).” Natasha said and you turned to look at her to see the apologetic look she had on her face.

You gave her a slight smile before shaking your head, “It’s okay. But what’re you doing up right now, Nat? You should be asleep, you need to rest.”

She dipped her head down to press multiple kisses to the skin of your neck, “I could ask you the same question because so do you.”

You should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to leave the warmth of your shared bed without her noticing.

“I just couldn’t sleep.” you said, making her eyebrows furrow as you opened your water bottle and took a sip. “But I know you’re still tired so you should go back to bed, I’ll be there soon.”

“No, not without you.” Natasha was quick to disagree, “What’s going on, dorogaya (darlin)? You were yawning quite a bit before we went to bed. Why can’t you sleep?” she rested her chin on your shoulder, ready to listen to what you had to say.

You sighed realizing that you were going to have to have this conversation now. Your shoulders shrugged, “I don’t know.” was all you offered.

Natasha stayed quiet, giving you the floor for when you were ready to add on. A moment later, you did.

“I haven’t really gotten any decent sleep recently, so I’m not sure why I can’t fall asleep or why I’m not tired.”

Your girlfriend pecked your shoulder blade, acknowledging that she heard you.

“How long has this been going on for?” she asked.

For a second you went quiet, not exactly wanting to answer when you remembered that now that she knew, she wasn’t going to let it go until she made it better.

“Since we left the states.” you admitted.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Once again, you shrugged your shoulders, “I didn’t want to worry you.” you said. “You already have a lot on your plate with this whole situation and I didn’t want to add more to it.”

You heard Natasha sigh and now you appreciated that fact that you weren’t standing face to face at the moment.

“I guess I’m thinking too much.” you added. “At night I finally get the time to actually think about stuff, and I worry about you and if you’re going to be okay.”

Natasha was also glad you weren’t standing face to face right now because if you were, you would’ve seen the way her lips pulled into a smile.

“Well if you’re going to worry about me then I think I have every right to worry about you.” she chuckled and you fought back a smile at it.

“I’m sorry.” you said.

She didn’t say anything for a few moments until you heard her soft voice with that hint of rasp speak up.

“Look at me, krasivyy (beautiful).”

You craned your neck to see green eyes which were filled to the brim with love and tenderness staring at you, the singular warm light above the kitchen sink allowing her to see your sad ones.

The frustration that’d been building up in you beginning to melt away ever so slightly.

“I want you to talk to me about what you’re going through.” Natasha spoke. “I don’t care about what you think I might have going on, you’re always my first priority, okay?”

You nodded as she raised a hand to caress your cheek, brushing a hair behind your ear in the process.

“I love you too much to have you worrying that pretty little head of yours all alone when I’m always right here for you.” she pressed her lips to your temple to emphasize her point. “So promise me next time you’ll tell me if somethings wrong?”

“I promise, and I love you too, Nat.”

“Good,” Natasha smiled and leaned in to connect your lips in a loving kiss, pulling away shortly after and leaning her forehead against yours. “I’m going to be okay, so there’s no need to worry. We’re both gonna be okay, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. You knew Natasha would make sure of that.

“Alright, do you think you’re ready to head back to bed?”

You weren’t sure how to answer that. Even though you were relieved Natasha knew now and you talked about it, you still weren’t even close to being able to go to sleep.

“No,” you spoke quietly. “I’m still not really tired, and I honestly don’t know if I will be until this all blows over.”

Natasha went silent for a few moments, thinking. She turned you around to face her and moved your arms to wrap around her shoulders.

“Nat, what are you—”

“Shhh,” she interrupted your sentence, “Just trust me.”

So you did.

Her arms snaked back around your waist and pulled you into her. You weren’t exactly sure what she was doing until she began swaying with you from one side to the other.

You’d danced together before, but at Tony’s many parties. Not when you were trying to make yourself fall asleep.

“Nat, I don’t think—”

“You’re supposed to be trusting me. Do you not?”

“I do, but—”

“So shhh,” she said and you couldn’t help the little giggle you let out. “You said you were thinking too much, right?”

“Yeah.” you confirmed.

“So just relax and let me do all the thinking. I don’t want you to worry about anything except trusting me.”

“Okay.” you whispered, giving in and resting your cheek on her shoulder, allowing her to move you.

A few seconds later Natasha began humming. It wasn’t a song that you knew, but you recognized it as one of the many Russian lullabies she’s hummed and sometimes sang to you before.

The way she hummed them always made you feel relaxed and peace, and this time was no different. Because soon you started to lean into her more as you became more and more weary.

Your heavy eyelids fell shut and your head found security in her neck as you cuddled closer to it, happily letting her comforting scent soothe you.

After a couple of songs, Natasha finally looked at you to find you pretty much sound asleep.

She grinned to herself and pecked your head before lifting you into her arms, making her way back to your bedroom.

“Told you to trust me.”

~ end ~

[shiorihyuga]

The Dumpster Behind the Club - Eren Jaeger

You and Eren are out to a club with friends and you got drunk and accidentally flashed someone with your boobs. Eren is now upset and is aggressively fucking you outside the club.

3k words

18+ Only Minors do not interact

“Take it, you dumb fucking whore,” Eren drawled out as he aggressively fucked the inside of your mouth.

Tears were streaming down your face. Your makeup was ruined. Your hair was a mess and your drenched cunt was dripping wet on the asphalt outside. Saliva dribbled from the side of your mouth as you struggled to catch your breath from Eren mercilessly using your mouth as his personal fleshlight. And it was making you so horny.

Though I suppose that this is what you wanted from the beginning. Eren and you had been a couple for a few months now and had decided to spend this Saturday night at a club downtown with your friends. I jumped at the invitation, greatly needing this outing as your new job has been keeping you fairly busy these last few weeks. It was also cutting into the quality time you spent with Eren.

His love language is physical touch.

So naturally, he wasn’t very enthused about my jam-packed work days. 

I guess I should rewind to how I got into this predicament in the first place.

Recently, we haven’t been able to get much alone time together- and I can tell it's been frustrating him. Being able to have sex twice a day used to be the norm for us, now, we’re lucky if we have enough time/energy to do it three times a week. For someone who was as horny as Eren, that was a big shift to deal with. And he already had a brash, and aggressive personality, but this just made it worse.

“You’ve been denying me these for days, but had no problem flashing them to a group of random men?” Eren growled as he continued to fuck your skull, but this time he had one hand tightly squeezing your breast as he fondled your taut nipple between his rough fingers.

You tried to respond but could only gag on his dick, as snot began to bubble from your nose. Eren stuffed his cock so far down your throat that you couldn’t even breathe.

You didn’t have a high liquor tolerance, and you’re a horn dog when you drink, so it only took a few drinks for you to feel as frisky as a cat in heat. The red mini dress you wore was only secured by a thin piece of fabric that wrapped around your neck to tie in a halter. It felt like it was a little loose so you went to the bathroom to fix it, with Eren tagging along with you.

There was a group of guys standing near the bathroom and unfortunately, you would have to walk past them. They all ogled me as I walked by, and one of them was about to open their mouth to say something, but I saw him look above me before closing his mouth and giving a brief nod.

I spun my head around to see Eren giving a death stare to the entire group, looking like he was ready to take someone’s head off if they dared to say or do anything to me. 

Eren was an intimidating man. Sure he was beautiful, but his aura was powerful and with his domineering personality, it wasn’t hard for him to command rooms and receive respect everywhere we go together.

But I was so caught up in the thoughts that I didn’t feel when the straps of my dress suddenly fell and my tits bounced as they were free from their thin restraint. I quickly went to cover my breasts but it was too late. The guys had already seen it, based on the lewd looks on their faces. They got more than enough for their imaginations. I felt so embarrassed.

“Oh my gosh, I-” I started to say, but a hand suddenly shot out and grabbed my upper arm dragging me away with an unprecedented level of force. 

I looked up to see Eren with his eyebrows furrowed and his jaw clenched as he sunk his fingers deep into my arm and dragged me further out of the club. I caught a glint of his green eyes and he looked mad as hell. 

“Eren stop, you’re hurting me,” I said trying to wiggle out of his grip but it was no use. 

“Shut the fuck up!” He barked over the loud music as he shuffled me across the dance floor, towards the back where I saw a large black door with an emergency exit sign lit up above it. 

He opened the door which led to outside, behind the club where it was pretty dark and secluded. Two large dumpsters were back here and despite the graffiti art, they were pretty well kept and looked relatively clean.

“What the hell is your problem?” I asked trying to pull my arm from his grasp. “Are you angry because my dress fell? God Eren, it was an accident! You don’t really think that I purposely-”

“Yes I do,” He firmly stated as green eyes darkened. He began slowly stalking towards me, effectively trapping me between the wall and him. He stared down at me as if I was his last meal. And I saw that fire in his eyes…I know that look all too well.

He suddenly leaned down to place his lips right next to my ear.

“I do think that you would purposely pull your dress down in front of a group of men just to rile me up because I know you’re that much of a fucking whore.” He said huskily in my ear.

My pussy immediately began clenching as I heard him say that. A shiver ran from my nape all the way down my spine to my pussy and I swear it felt like I was zapped with electricity. I suddenly felt bashful, and I knew that my face was as red as a tomato so I didn’t even dare to look him in the eyes. But Eren wasn’t going to allow me that respite. 

“Get on your knees.” He said as he leaned away from me to unbutton his jeans.

“Ere-”

“Get on your fucking knees, now!” He said menacingly as he gripped a firm hand around my neck. 

The sound of his voice was enough to make anyone unable to resist his commands. Besides, you knew better than anyone that Eren doesn’t take disobedience lightly. His domineering gaze never faltered as he watched you slowly kneel on the concrete ground. The feeling of tiny rocks piercing your skin was painful but not as painful as the ache between your legs was. If Eren didn’t give you some sort of relief soon, you felt that you were about to explode.

He slowly reached his hand up to gently cup your chin in his hand and rubbed his thumb over your plump lips. How can one person be so damn attractive?

“Keep it open,” Eren directed as he squeezed my cheeks together until I felt my mouth was forced open.

He moved his hand from my face to pull down his briefs and let his cock spring up. I let out a heavy sigh through my parted lips as I greedily stared at his cock. My core became wetter every second as I felt the alcohol soar through my bloodstream - adding even more pleasure to my already euphoric state. 

Eren was a big man, so naturally, his dick would have to correlate to his size. And boy did it not disappoint!

I can’t tell you exactly what its size is. But I do know it has to be at least 7 inches. And with very impressive girth as well! His dick has a little upward curve to it that never failed to hit that sweet spot inside of me. Eren was the only man to ever make me cum through just vaginal stimulation. And he was cocky as hell about it too. Always bringing up how no one else will ever be able to fuck me as good as he can. To be honest, he’s probably right. 

He gripped the back of my hair to pull me closer to him. He grabbed the base of his cock and slid in past my parted lips, immediately hitting the back of my throat and making me gag and want to pull back, but Eren was having none of that as he forced my head to stay still as I took his entire length in my mouth.

He held it there for about ten seconds before he finally pulled out and I gasped for air; coughing as my breath finally became free. Eren sexily groaned as he pulled out. His eyes closed as he panted. He caught his breath before opening his eyes to stare into mine again. That freedom didn’t last long though. Eren grabbed my head again, and with both hands this time, he began aggressively fucking my skull with an insane level of speed.

“Take it, you dumb fucking whore!” He menacingly growled as he looked down at me. Well, that was a short recap of how I got myself here in the first place.

Him fondling my breasts was enough to make me loudly moan around his cock, the vibrations of it giving him visible chills. I took a quick peak up at him and oh, how I wished I could frame the wicked smile that was plastered across his face. He was enjoying himself so much.

“You love this don’t you?” He asked condescendingly. “Nowhere you’d rather be than to be guzzling down my cock on the side of a dumpster, right baby? Look at you, your pussy juices are dripping on the ground how desperately you want me.”

I gave a muffled affirmation as I held onto his thighs tightly to steady myself as he continued his brutal assault on my throat. The filthy words he was saying to me also edged me on even more. I loved when he got aggressive like this.

Eren and I have been together long enough for him to know me like the back of his hand. He knew that I loved being treated like a princess, just as much as I loved being degraded by him like a cheap whore.

His pace picked up as my eyes became glassy and his breathing became erratic. The sounds that were coming from my lips were absolutely sinful. The gushing and that garbling of my spit, mixed with his precum was spread all over my face and the top of my breasts. I knew wouldn’t be able to last much longer like this. I was starting to get lightheaded due to the lack of oxygen. 

Sensing this, Eren quickly pulled my head off his cock and spun me around so that I was pressed against the brick wall. I felt his dick piercing into my back as he used his large hands to continue massaging my breasts while he moaned pure filth into my ears.

“You’re Daddy's nasty fucking girl, aren't you?” He said nibbling on my ear. “I knew sucking me off in the back of a dumpster would make you so fucking wet.”

“Yes Daddy,” I moaned, throwing my head back as he reached down to give my ass a hard squeeze before reaching his fingers to my core. He spread my pussy lips before rubbing a finger up and down my clit.

I felt my knees buckle from the slight touch, and I heard Eren chuckle as he brought his finger up to see the amount of wetness on it. He barely touched me and my slickness dripped from his finger onto the floor. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this horny in my life.

“Look at how much you’re feigning for me baby,” He said rubbing his thumb over his index finger with my cum in it. “I barely even touched you yet.”

“Daddy please,” You begged as he began rubbing your folds again.

“Please what?” He replied darkly.

“Fuck me.”

That was all he needed to hear, and he wasted no time scrunching up my dress to my waist and ripping my panties off of me. I was in such a turned-on state that I didn’t even care. I felt him shuffle himself a bit more behind me for a few seconds before I felt the tip of his cock prodding at my entrance and I let out a cry of pleasure as I turned to look at him over my shoulder.

“Oh fuck,” He hissed as he slowly pushed into my slick. Feeling every ridge and pulsation that my pussy had to offer. “You’re so fucking tight baby, you’re swallowing me up.”

I couldn’t even say anything coherent in response to him. My brain had been turned into mush as I languished in the feeling of Eren being inside me. His dick stretched me so painfully, yet so deliciously good. I felt him slowly pull out, leaving just his head in before he rammed back into me, jolting me forward and pressing my face against the wall.

He roughly adjusted my body so that my ass was sticking out towards him, with my hands pressing against the wall. He laughed as he gave my ass a hard smack before pumping into me again.

“Oh God, Eren!” I cried out as he began pumping into me like a jackrabbit. The lewd slapping sounds from his hips meeting my ass with every thrust was transporting me to cloud nine.

He suddenly took one hand to push my face firm against the wall. The other had a harsh grip on my waist as he dominated my pussy; occasionally he’d let go of my waist to issue hard slaps on my ass cheeks that I'm positive would leave marks.

“If you could only see how your pussy is gripping my dick right now, you’d cum in a second,” Eren grunted in your ear, never once letting his thrust’s speed falter. “I should’ve fucked you like this in front of those guys back there. Let them see how much you love to take my dick, and let them see how wet you get for me.”

“Only for you Daddy,” I mewled out as I felt myself creep closer to my release.

“That’s right baby, only for me,” Eren grunted as his thrusts started to become slower but much more forceful. He stopped pressing my head into the wall and moved his fingers down to my clit to play with it. 

I tried to move my hand to his hips to make him go a little gentler, but he roughly pushed my hand away before quickly grabbing my arm and pinning it behind my back. 

“You know I don't know mercy, baby girl,” Eren growled out menacingly as his thrusts got even more violent. “You’re going to take everything I have to give.”

Your vision started to go white as your eyes were squeezed shut. Your toes curled before letting out a euphoric scream. Eren was fucking you like he hated you. Every thrust had your whole body jerking forward, yet you ran back to his dick every time because you knew he was the only one who could fuck you the way you loved. That combined with what his fingers were doing to you…you knew you weren’t going to last for much longer.

“Eren, I-I’m gonna cum!” You cried out as your pussy began to tighten.

“Fuck, I feel it, baby, “ Eren said through gritted teeth as his thrusts began to become sporadic. “Keep squeezing my dick like that, oh fuck.”

Both of you were now panting excessively. Eren’s face was flushed red as his eyes were locked on watching his dick move in and out of your tight hole. A frothy white substance began to form due to you guys’ lewd activities, but all of this just turned Eren on even more.

He knew you were about to cum any second now so he began massaging your clit even more before you felt the thread finally snap and you came undone on his cock. Your pussy relaxing and contracting around his dick as you loudly rode out your orgasm. Based on the sounds Eren was making, he was right behind you.

“FUCKKK!” He roared and his hip stuttered in you before he released everything he had in you.

You felt his cock shooting him warm seed in your womb - filling you to the brim with it. Eren was panting heavily as you felt his cock go limp inside you. He had his arms wrapped around your waist, and head buried in the crock of your neck as he peppered kisses up and down there. He slowly pulled his dick from you and you shivered at the loss of contact. 

Immediately, his and your cum began to leak out of you and Eren quickly dipped two fingers into your pussy before bringing it up to your lips and making you suck in them. You moaned as you tasted the concoction that both of your juices made.

“Delicious, isn’t it” Eren cockily asked while watching your tongue swirl around his fingers. 

“Hmmm, the best, as usual,” You said in a sultry tone before giving him a wink. You stood on your tiptoes as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

He grabbed the back of your nape and pulled you in for a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue immediately flew into your mouth as he tasted the flavor of his cum mixed with yours. You moaned into his mouth as you felt him reach his hand down to grab your ass and give it a hard squeeze. 

“You’re so fucking perfect,” He breathed into your mouth. “You’re making me want to bend you over again.”

Despite just having an orgasm, your pussy immediately began to pur at those words. Eren knew how to rile you up.

“You’re making me want to let you,” You flirtatiously replied as you grabbed his now-hardening dick in your hand.

“Let me?” He asked incredulously as he chucked before leaning down to stare at me with those intimidating emerald eyes of his. “Your body belongs to me baby girl, and I’ll fuck you whenever I want, wherever I want, however I want.”

Shit.

That was all it took to have my pussy aching for him again as I reached a hand up to wrap around his neck and pull him down for another kiss. Eren was right, deep down I knew I was such a slut for him...

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

~ aot, attack on titan, shingekinokyojin, snk, eren, eren jeager, eren jeager smut, aot smut, snksmut, erensmut, aggressive eren, posessive eren

~

Masterlist:

[flemingsfreckles]

Physio’s Daughter pt.4

Jessie Fleming x Physio!Reader

Read the previous parts here

Warnings: a little cursing, a small bit of homophobia (it’s minor teasing by a child)

WC: 4.3k

A/N: I struggled with this part, so I do apologize for how long it took and that it’s shorter. There’s a lot of timeline jumps in this part just as a heads up. I know where the story is going to end up I’m just having a hard time making the plot to get it there.

It was Jessie’s fault your attempt at being just coworkers failed so quickly. It was only hours after you had said goodbye to her in the lobby of the training center when you received a notification on your phone.

_jessflem has requested to follow you

You smirked down at the notification. You knew she wasn’t big on social media so the follow felt intentional. You open your phone to accept her follow request and go to follow her back only to realize you already followed her. You also weren’t too keen on social media, you really didn’t have the time with school, but you found yourself in typical behavior with the other young adults your age, “stalking” Jessie’s page.

You scroll all the way to her last photo, it’s just a scenery shot. You look at it for a second before starting to scroll back up. Too frenzied with your scrolling you feel the phone vibrate in your hand slightly, the same way it vibrated if you liked a photo.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” you stop your scrolling, starting to slowly scroll backward to see that you had just liked a photo from 2020. Four years ago. It was one of her smiling, holding a soccer ball in her Chelsea training kit. She looked adorable.

Jessie Fleming: Doing a bit of stalking, are we?

The sound of your text notification making you jump in your otherwise silent apartment. Before you can even open the first text you receive a second.

Jessie Fleming: Do you stalk all your coworkers, or just the ones you’ve kissed?

You: Hard to say, I haven’t kissed any other coworkers, maybe I’ll have to kiss some other ones and see if it leads to stalking.

Jessie Fleming: Fair

You leave her text without a response. You had both agreed to be professional, this seemed like it was going to maybe be the opposite of you kept texting her.

You close Instagram and move from your couch into the kitchen. You were excited for your next few days to be off days. You planned to essentially do nothing but sit, watch trashy TV and do anything to keep your mind from wandering and thinking about Jessie. Moving to the fridge you get out some ingredients to make yourself chicken and pasta, it was easy but it also counted as a home cooked dinner so you couldn’t complain.

In the middle of digging through your cabinets for spices you get a knock on your door. Skeptical of who it may be, you move to the door slowly, looking though the peep hole. There stood your Mom, not someone coming to murder you, well, you’re not too sure on that you think.

You open the door to see her standing with a bouquet of flowers and a brown paper bag tucked under her arm.

“Can I come in?” She wasn’t exactly the person you wanted to be seeing right now but she was your Mom, so you extended you hand to take the bag and let her in.

“Are you here to yell at me again, because I’ve honestly had enough over the past couple of days to last a lifetime, I don’t need any more.”

“Don’t be a smartass,” she gently smacks the top of your head. “I’m actually here to apologize. Do you think I’d bring snacks and drinks if I was here to yell at you?”

“Maybe you brought them to flaunt in my face while you yelled at me.”

Your Mom rolls her eyes at you and begins digging through the bag she brought. She gets out some candies that she knew you loved, some popcorn, a bottle of wine, and a 6 pack of beers.

“Is this your peace offering?” You ask as you grab the bag of sweets, opening it and popping one in your mouth.

“I don’t know if I’d consider it a peace offering just yet but I wanted to at least talk, I figured I could start making amends with snacks.”

“Okay.”

“Look, I’m not really sorry for what I said, I said it for a reason and I stand by what I said.” She lets out a breath. “But I am sorry for how I said it though. I treated you like a child, that was unprofessional, you’re an adult and should be treated that way at work at least. Unfortunately, I’m your mom, so you’ll always be my little girl. And in this circumstance I was frustrated with you as a mom and as a coworker.”

“Why were you frustrated with me as a mom?” You understood the coworker, but the thought of you disappointing your Mom hurt a bit, you hadn’t realized you had upset her as a daughter.

“I don’t know if frustrated is the word I guess. It’s just weird seeing your daughter being defiled against the wall by another person especially at work when it’s with her coworker who she told you nothing was happening with.” Your blush comes back and you look down at your drink before taking a large swing, not wanting to think about your Mom walking in on you and Jessie.

“How many times do I have to tell you she wasn’t defiling me, it was just a kiss.”

“I don’t really care what she was doing to you, the less I know the better.” You Mom holds her hands up stopping you. “I am sorry I made a scene in your office about it. That was inappropriate on my end.”

“Thank you.” You take another sip. The two of you stood in silence around your kitchen table. This was going to be a long night.

It was nearly an hour later, you were drinking through your fourth beers and your Mom was working through her third heavy pour of wine. You could tell you were both feeling the effects of the drinks and it was likely your Mom would be spending the night. You felt your phone buzz in your lap and you looked down to see Jessie’s name again.

Jessie Fleming: sorry if I made it weird with my text from before, I promise only to be professional from now on.

You feel yourself smiling at the text, something about the idea that she thought about you again to text you made you feel warm and fuzzy. Unfortunately, with the alcohol in your system you did a worse job at hiding your emotions than you thought.

“Ohhhhh, look at you smiling at your phone, let me guess is a certain Canadian captain texting you?” Your mom teases from the other side of the couch. Her foot giving your leg a tap.

“Mom please.” While you tried to deflect her comment it was obvious by your smile that she was right about who had texted you and she knew she was right. You didn’t want to have to sit here with your tipsy mother and her comments about you and Jessie. Thankfully she stays quiet for a few minutes with the two of you not speaking.

“This is maybe the wrong way to go about this, but I’m trying really hard to be your Mom, not your coworker, so, tell me about her? Pretend I don’t already know her, pretend you’re telling me about just a crush from school or something.”

“Mom, we don't have to do this.”

“Oh come on, indulge me, I miss it. I remember when you were a little girl and you would come home telling me about the pretty girls in your class, and then in fourth grade someone told you that you couldn’t find other girls pretty.” You cringe at that memory. Some boy had overheard you saying how you thought another little girl in your class was beautiful and he had told you it was gross for boys to think boys were cute and for girls to find girls cute. Unfortunately that little shit’s comments stuck with you through your whole life, impacting you heavily as a child.

“And so then you only ever came home talking about boys, but I could tell it wasn’t quite the same as how you felt toward the pretty girls. And then when you were 17 you came to me to tell me about the pretty girl you had a crush on and I was so proud of you and excited that that stupid boy didn’t change you. And then since you’ve moved out for school I got to hear snippets over the phone about dates but it’s not the same. So indulge me. Tell me about her as you would any other girl.”

“But you do know her, Mom.” Still hesitant to have this conversation about Jessie, it was easy when your Mom didn’t know the other person.

“Does she have a job? Does she have aspirations? Where’s she from?” She ignored your comment and starts firing off questions.

You let out a small giggle as you take another drink, your Mom was always one to interrogate you about girls you talked about, it was just funny the way she was pretending she didn’t know Jessie.

You fell into conversation with your Mom for a bit. She’d ask questions, pretending to be oblivious to the fact that you were talking about Jessie. You answered, the small trace of beer in your system making you care slightly less, also knowing that your Mom had had her fair share of wine.

You told her about your conversations with Jessie, ones from all the hours you two spent secluded in the training rooms. You told her about your mutual aspiration for travel, how you’d talked about school, she taught you what she learned as an engineer in school, you talked about her family, her family dogs, all the tiny details you could remember about Jessie.

The more you talked about her, the more you watched your mothers face change. Originally looking a little uncomfortable when you talked about Jessie but now she was grinning back at you.

“You actually like her don’t you?”

“Obviously.” You huff throwing your arms up.

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you just thought she was hot and you wanted to hookup with a professional athlete .”

“Mom!” You can feel your cheeks start to heat up.

You both fall into silence, your Mom finishing off her glass of wine and you staring at the ground thinking about everything you just said to your Mom.

“I forgot to say this earlier but I’m also sorry I accused you of lying to me.”

“It’s fine Mom, really don’t worry about it.”

Your Mom stands from the couch with a yawn. “Guest room made up by chance?” You nod at her. It wasn’t really a guest room, more of a den in your apartment that you had made an office with a bed in the corner.

Before she left to go to bed she moved over to you, placing her hands on your shoulders.

“Kiddo?” You cringe at the childhood nickname, looking up at her. “I’m not going to tell you to do anything with Jessie, but, you’re stubborn and I know you will. So just please, if you two decide to take your relationship anywhere, just be adults about it. Don’t let it affect work, don’t let it mess up her playing, don’t sneak around. If you want to be adults, act like it, tell the people who need to know.”

“We already talked, nothings going to happen.”

“I know you think that, but when the two of you see each other for almost 2 months straight, I think it’ll maybe be hard to keep it that way. I’d still advise you two to avoid each other as much as you can, keep it professional, that's the right choice in my eyes. But, unfortunately my more realist advice, wait until the Olympics are over when you’re no longer associated with the team and you’re back at school. You don’t want to be accused of the team’s downfall because Fleming is too busy staring off at her own trainer to make a decent pass.” With that she walks away from you, placing her glass in the sink and wandering to the den.

You knew most likely your Mom seemed to be okay with you and Jessie once you were no longer a trainer was just the wine talking and she’d go back to normal in the morning but for now you’d take it. You put your own bottle in the recycling and head into your bedroom. You consider texting back Jessie but decide against it as you plug your phone in and set an alarm for the next morning.

The next morning you wake up and make your way into the kitchen finding a note from your mom saying she left early, she loved you and she’d see you soon.

You grabbed a pan from the kitchen and opened the fridge to find eggs and started making yourself breakfast.

The sound of your phone ringing causes you to jump and let out a yelp, nearly dropping the egg you were cracking. Turning around you grab your phone, seeing Jessie’s name across the screen. You debate not answering, but maybe she needed you for work reasons, so you answer.

“Hello?”

“Should I be scared that your Mom tried to call me yesterday?”

You hadn’t expected that to be her first words. “She what?”

“Yeah, I didn’t answer, I was still trying to get home but she called me, no voicemail, no text, just a missed call. So I’m asking, is she still out for my head because of us?”

“There’s no us, but probably not? I don’t know. She showed up unexpectedly at my place last night to apologize for how she yelled at me.”

“That’s good, right?”

“I guess? I mean she’s still pretty upset, but she apologized for treating me unprofessionally. So maybe she wanted to apologize to you too, I’m not sure.”

“Oh.”

“She also asked about you.” There’s silence on the other end, you pull the phone back to check that the call hadn’t ended.

“Hello?” You stirred your eggs.

“Hi.” Jessie’s voice comes through clearly.

“Oh I thought you maybe hung up.”

“No.” There’s another pause. “What did she ask?”

“Everything I guess? She had maybe a few too many sips of wine.” You let out a small laugh. “She told me to talk to her about you as if she didn’t know you. It was something we used to do when I was a kid. I’d sit and tell her every detail about the boys or girls I liked.” You turn around to lean against the kitchen table.

“That’s sweet that she wanted to do that with you.”

“Yeah.” It’s now you leaving a long silence. “It could’ve been the wine talking but she was less mad I think, she even suggested we just wait until the Olympics are over to figure out what it is between us.”

You hear a sigh come through the phone. “I thought we agreed to be professional.”

“We did.”

“No offense but telling me that your Mom suggested we figure out something after the Olympics isn’t really professional at all, it’s only going to get in my head.” Her voice now sounding upset and frustrated.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry Jessie.” You’re not sure why you’re really apologizing, all you did was tell her what she wanted to know.

“It’s fine, I gotta go.” She rushes her sentence.

With that the line went dead and you stared back at your phone you could see your reflection in the black screen. The whole conversation ran through your head again. She had seemed excited that you talked to your Mom about her, but maybe you misunderstood. Jessie’s mood had taken such a sharp negative turn at the end, when you mentioned the possibility of post Olympics.

You open your texts, and start typing.

Hey, that was weird, sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I just thought we were maybe still doing the friendly flirting given you brought up our kiss yesterday.

You erase the message. Locking your phone and turning back to see your eggs burnt, just starting to smoke.

“Shit shit shit.” You rushed over grabbing the pan and turning off the burner. Too frustrated first with Jessie’s confusing behavior and then with your ability to burn the easiest breakfast, you decide to grab a book and sit outside hoping you wouldn’t have to think about reality for a while.

The rest of your day was easy, you sat outside reading two whole books and also getting incredibly sunburnt in the process. The thought of sunscreen completely slipping your mind. You were able to not think about school, or your mom, or work, or Jessie, or the Canadian team at all.

The next three days played out the exact same, except with sunscreen this time. It was good, you genuinely got a break, from school, from work, and from life. It was great. Everything was going well, you had managed to not think about Jessie most of the day, until you went to bed and your phone notification popped up, reminding you of tomorrow’s responsibilities.

Calendar: Physio Team Meeting 8:00

Calendar: Meeting w/ J.Fleming 10:00

Calendar: Travel Paperwork Meeting 13:15

You had been excited to see her, that was until your weird shared phone call 3 days ago. It had been radio silence between the two of you since, you never texted her and she never reached out. Not that you expected her to, but it would’ve been nice to hear from her.

Your morning was quick, opting to just eat at the facilities instead of waking up early to make your own breakfast. You met your mom in the parking lot and the two of you walked into your first meeting together. It was general information for the upcoming schedule. The players were set to come back in 3 weeks for 5 days, the team would then travel to Paris to get settled before starting play later that week. It was going to be a busy 3 weeks before the team came back, everyone being given various tasks and responsibilities to oversee in the meantime. Yours as you had already been told was to keep Jessie in the loop with her teammates, as well as keeping up with her teammates themselves.

And that’s what you did at 10:00. You got onto your computer joining a call that was supposed to be you, Jessie, and Sarah, one of the other physio’s who was supposed to be the professionalism buffer. Unfortunately she had other things that took priority which left just you and Jessie.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“Um Sarah isn’t coming, she has some other things to take care of that we’re more important than babysitting me in this meeting.” You feel your palms sweating, wiping them on your pants.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. So we can get into it here-” you start to pull up a spreadsheet with information on each of the roster’s players. You didn’t feel like doing the small talk with her right now.

“Really quick, I wanted to apologize.” You stop messing with the document on your screen and look over to where the box with Jessie’s face was. “About that phone call, I made it weird, I think I just got a little, I don’t know, maybe overwhelmed, so I’m sorry.”

“Oh it’s fine.”

“It wasn’t fine, it wasn’t okay for me to be unprofessional when I texted you earlier and then get upset with you for doing the same.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” It was nice that she apologized but it still didn’t provide much of an explanation as to what happened.

The rest of your meeting goes as planned, you walk through every roster member, their current status, if they’re back playing at club yet, if so how many minutes they got in matches, all the details.

“How are you? You’re the only one we haven’t gone through.”

“I’m good.”

“I need more information than that Jessie, come on.”

“I’ve been sleeping better, obviously being in my own bed not a hotel helps, I’ve been a little stressed at Portland, things just aren’t connecting there so the playing has been stressful too. But I’ve been playing full 90’ still and the calf is treating me well.”

“Thank you, I’m glad to hear about your calf.” You can’t help but smile, thinking that your work and knowledge actually helped Jessie return to playing like herself. You type in the information she tells you into your document and then save the file and close it, bringing Jessie face to fullscreen on your computer.

“Alright, I guess we’re all done here then.”

“I actually had one more thing.”

“Oh! Sorry I should’ve check if you were done. Just let me open up my file again, hang on, sorry about that.”

“No, it’s not for the file.” There’s a pause, you just look at her on the screen. She’s looking down and you’re pretty sure playing with her hands, the way she does when she’s nervous.

“Can we please be friends? I’ve been wanting to text you about books I read, or cool travel locations I’ve seen. I wanted to text you that I saw a family of deer the other day and it reminded me of you telling me about the deer in your childhood backyard. But you told me we couldn’t even be friends, so I've been respecting that. But I want to be able to tell you those things, so if there’s any way we could be friends, it can still be professional, but friendly, I’d really like that.” Her sentence is rambling and you could tell she clearly had prepared to ask you but somewhere along the lines was just saying whatever came to her head.

What caught your attention was that she thought of the small 3 sentence story you had told her days ago about your childhood backyard. The backyard where you and your mom used to watch the deer run and graze. She remembered that tiny detail that you told her. It made your heart sing that she remembered.

“We can be friends.” You say with a smile knowing in the back of your head that there would be no way you’d be able to stay just friends with the beautiful girl who was now grinning back at you.

“Yay!” It was such a sweet response, her face lighting up. “Okay I’ll see you next week, same time?”

“Yeah Jessie, thanks, I’ll see you then.” She hangs up the call. You only have a minute in your office in silence before a series of texts come in.

Jessie Fleming: since we’re friends now

Jessie Fleming: look at the deer

Jessie Fleming: 2 Images

You look at the images, one was a photo of three deer, one being a baby, all standing in tall grass, the sun a golden yellow cascading on them. The next photo was a closer shot of the fawn. The pictures looked like someone from National Geographic took them, the detail, lighting, all of it.

You: did you take those photos?

Jessie Fleming: yes

You: wow

You: maybe I’ll have to bring you along on my future travels to be the photographer

Jessie Fleming: I definitely wouldn’t mind that

That was all it took, a simple conversation and two photos of deer to start the friendship between you and Jessie. A friendship that quickly snowballed into what was flirtatious, teasing, sweet, but overall borderline inappropriate for a working relationship. But you didn’t care, it was easy. Over those next three weeks the banter and friendship with Jessie grew and grew, the late nights texting that turned into late nights on FaceTime with the older girl, it felt harmless being that you were so far away from her.

The reality of what you two had developed only set in when it was three weeks later and you were standing in the physio room as players started filing in for the first training session before traveling to Paris.

Jessie walked in, looking around before her eyes caught yours. Her face lit up and you knew yours did too. You felt butterflies in your stomach. She gives you a smile and a quick flash of a smirk as she walks in the other direction going to say hello to the other staff first. She greets them all, you patiently wait, pretending not to be watching her as you restock bandaids in a drawer. But you were, out of the corner of your eye you couldn’t help but watch her move around the room, your heart rate picking up speed as she would move closer and closer with each person she said hello to.

“I saved the best for last.” You hear her soothing voice behind you.

You turn and she’s standing in front of you arms out as she had done to the other staff. You step toward her, wrapping your arms around her waist as she wraps around your shoulders. You wonder how she smells so good for someone who just got off an airplane and a bus ride, but somehow she does.

“I’ve missed you.” Her lips are against your ear and her voice is quiet to not allow anyone else to hear.

“I missed you too.” You whisper back to her. You pull away, catching your Mom’s eye over Jessie’s shoulder. She gives you a tight lipped smile and a small shake of her head.

“Do you need anything?” You offer Jessie, pointing to an open table where she could sit if she wanted her calf or anything else worked on. You don’t miss how at first she doesn’t verbally answer you, instead her eyes move from your face, down your entire body, then back up, her eyes taking an extra second on your lips before returning to meet your eye contact. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, biting her lip softly.

“Nope, I’m good.” She gives you a smile, you can see her cheeks have a slight red blush but you ignore that.

She turns and walks away, Janine catching her on the way out. You watch as the two appear to argue for a second before Janine slaps the back of Jessie’s head softly. Jessie returns the favor and smacks Janine’s arm as they keep moving down the hallway. Just before they hit the corner Janine turns back to look at you, you make eye contact for a second and she raises her eyebrows at you. Not knowing what that means or what to do you just turn back to putting bandaids, tape, and gauze back where they belong.

It was going to be a long 6 weeks with the team.

[foreverisntenough]

- YOU’RE MINE -

Summary: While you daydreamed about his face an ocean apart, he had no idea what yours was about to do to him. With a twist of fate and the heat of summer, a new relationship would completely ransack his heart - Everyday heavy with the thought of one another, neither of you were going to let the unexpected love of your life go. You were going to be his, you were his, and you were going to stay his.

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestive, smut love bombing, little sad, and kind of angst- not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: I hope you like it! There will definitely be more parts (don’t know how many just yet though.)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Chapter 10 - ‘You’re Mine’

You sat on your apartment floor in a pile of your clothes. What the hell do you bring to visit a boy… in another country… for an unspecified amount of time. Lingerie was the first thing in your suitcase but like… what else?

Trent had been kind enough to organize everything for you so you really only had to lock up your apartment, he had gotten everything sorted down to a car picking you up and bringing you to the airport. You had an inkling it was more likely Tyler orchestrating the logistics but Trent was the one relaying the information to you. No matter, it was incredibly thoughtful.

He had booked you a hotel suite down near the Liverpool waterfront because you had mentioned that you had liked staying near there before during previous visits to the city. It was unsaid but assumed you’d more than likely be in Trent’s bed anyways but you didn’t want to pressure him or bother him after a match day and he hadn’t wanted you to presume this was a trip solely to get his dick wet. It also occurred to both of you that Trent lived with his family. It was comforting to him, something he loved, something you actually found endearing, and as much as you got along with his brothers, throwing you into the family home seemed like a big ask.

There were a lot of uncertainties about the trip… the most glaringly obvious, the length. You and Trent both just wanted to be back together so you hadn’t really set a return date. You were off and on your way to England tomorrow. You couldn’t exactly uproot your life for a man you hadn’t known for that long, let alone explain to your family that you suddenly had struck up a whirlwind romance with the Trent Alexander-Arnold but your return to New York was still TBD.

To be honest, your dad might be thrilled at the idea of the potential access to Anfield and return to his home country but you were a daddy’s girl so moving countries might throw him for a loop. Your mom, well.. she’d miss you but you having a boyfriend, no matter the location, would just make her life complete. That was another thing… you were so excited to visit ‘your Trent’ but he wasn’t your boyfriend really so what was this to him? You had told most people who needed to know your whereabouts that you were going to England to visit a friend, you’d be going to Liverpool for a game which you had done before… purposely avoiding the details though that seeing a player was the sole reason you were being flown out. You wanted to keep it hush until it was official with him or god forbid… if it were to all fizzle out. Your head was spinning when your best friend FaceTimed you breaking the trepidation.

“Are you even going to pack clothes?” She joked before even saying hello to you.

“Rude…. I am, but honestly haven’t got a clue what yet… I want to look good but not try too hard. I wanna be hot for him but I’ll also be with his family so the lines are a little blurry.” You began to rant, panicking. You initially had asked Trent what to pack but his response was zero help.

“You look amazing in anything… but I also want you in nothing.. so” he joked, providing no assistance during a recent phone call.

Despite everything being done for you, the trip was still a little overwhelming. The plan was to fly into Manchester, Trent insisting that Tyler pick you up because he wasn’t able to get you himself because his match was that day. Tyler would drive you to your hotel, check you in, let you settle in and then he and Marcel would grab you a bit later on to head to the stadium for the game so you could see Trent. After that…not a clue what was in store but you could only imagine it would involve little to no clothing… heavily depending on if you were able to manage to stay awake after the long day.

It all sounded so seamless but after a 7 hour flight, the idea of going to a packed season opener at Anfield and attempting to look presentable after not seeing your man for over a month was stressing you out. Trent didn’t really think that this was, rather the reunion would be exciting, fun, and romantic.

“Okay, okay… I’m thinking you have to go with basics right? Like heels, boots, a sneaker, jeans, white tee, and then obviously have to bring all the gifts and shit he’s sent you..” your best friend was trying to be practical and she was right. Just simple, like your first date, hot but comfortable.

“Yeah, okay, smart. Weather is kind of weird there… like if I need a jacket… I need to think a little more. Maybe I’ll shop when I’m there when he’s busy like at training…”

“You shop? Let him shop! He’s clearly not opposed to buying you things! Also… you’re going to the north of England not a deserted island. I hope you shop when you’re there.”

“I’m not letting him do that… he’s gotta chill with the..” you stopped your own sentence “oh my god! There’s a Selfridges in Manchester… wow I totally forgot. Ugh I can’t wait for that.” You were drooling at the idea of bringing those yellow shopping bags home, forgetting the current task at hand.

“Wow, yeah… I miss that place.” Your friend also getting lost for a second.

“Fuck! Focus Y/N.” You said aloud to yourself. “I need to pack now. I’m hanging up. You’re not as helpful as I needed you to be!” You poked fun sarcastically at your friend who had actually been helpful.

“Love you! Let me know when you you take off, land, fuck him, you know the important things” she cooed cheekily.

You managed to finish packing. An incredibly heavy full suitcase that barely zipped closed and a burgundy Goyard Saint Louis tote bag stuffed full of flight essentials; passport, charger, headphones, just the usual.

You hadn’t realized until you were in line for security rereading your ticket but you were pleased when you realized you were in first class and you had access to a lounge. You texted Trent an update as if he hadn’t planned your entire itinerary for the next 24 hours.

“Text me before you take off, baby 😘” he responded.

“I will 😘 going to see you so sooon… absolutely insane”

“Getting impatient” he texted, always managing to make you smile, make you feel wanted. So you boarded the plane, tucked into your seat with a smile and a warm feeling in your chest. You picked a movie, popped in your headphones and prayed for a safe flight and the ability to get some rest during it.

While you were in transit, Trent was busy with pre-match preparations and also ultimately getting ready for your arrival. He was so excited he couldn’t sit still, pacing around his house. He hadn’t really shut up about you over the past few weeks, more often than not talking to his mum, knowing she could keep a secret. He didn’t want to over share with his friends, teammates and brothers because he was well aware how whipped he was for you and they would no doubt give him shit. That said, he didn’t exactly hide his obsession all that well.

“I’m sorry I can’t make it to the match tonight, sweetheart” Dianne sincerely apologized to Trent standing in the kitchen that morning. She had a prior commitment she couldn’t get out of unfortunately. It didn’t really bother Trent, she had seen more minutes of him on the pitch than anyone but it also meant that it would postponing your meeting.

“Mum, really it’s fine… besides I’m getting a little nervous about who's all in the box tonight.” He said anxiously.

“You shouldn’t be nervous… you invited her and she wanted to come.” Dianne knew he was referring to you being in the box.

“I know I never say this….” Trent sighed leaning his forehead against the refrigerator door. “What if I play bad and she gets like the ick.”

“The ick?” Dianne perplexed by the term.

“Yeah, like the ick…” Trent poorly and inadvertently didn’t explain so Dianne moved on.

“Trenty, it’s just another normal night.” She tried to reassure him like he was still her little boy.

“She is flying to another country… for me.” Trent said initially with some fear but his own words actually had instilled some confidence in him. You were flying to see him. You didn’t have to do this, you wanted to.

Trent had to leave to meet with the team, start the whole process of match day so he gathered all his things, said goodbye to his mum, and made his way to the driveway. He stopped in his tracks half way to his car trying to remember if he had made his bed, hoping that tonight he could convince you to come sleep with him instead of your hotel. The thought of you back in his arms had him eager for the final whistle before kick off even happened.

You woke up with about a half an hour left in your flight. By the time you gathered yourself you had landed in Manchester. You were going to text Trent but you didn’t want to bother him as it was getting closer to game time so you opted to text Tyler letting him know you had arrived. Customs wasn’t too long but you needed a few extra minutes in the bathroom to reapply some tinted moisturizer, fix your hair, spray some perfume, it was fine for now but you couldn’t wait to shower at the hotel.

“In arrival pickup, I'm refusing to hold a sign like Trent wanted so just look for my car…black Mercedes.” Tyler texted. It made you laugh, he clearly was just being a nice brother doing Trent a favor. He downplayed his car exponentially, it was a massive Mercedes G-Wagon, not exactly subtle, it was matte black with completely tinted windows. You easily spotted it and rolled your suitcase down the pavement. Tyler got out of the car, calling your name lowly. You greeted him warmly with a sweet ‘hi’ and a big hug.

“You okay? Flight was fine?” He questioned genuinely, taking your suitcase and putting it in the boot of his car.

“Yeah, yeah all good. Airports are just so stressful so thank you for handling everything. Obviously wasn’t T.” You teased and Tyler shrugged knowing that was incredibly accurate.

You opened the car door to find a little box wrapped neatly with a bow on the front seat. You picked it up to try to hand it to Tyler like it was his.

“Obviously, it’s for you. He wasn’t going to let you arrive without getting you something… be real for a minute.”

You giggled knowing it was true. Gifts were one of Trent’s love languages for sure. You shuffled around in the seat a little awkwardly at first fumbling with the box before putting it in your bag.

“Everything good?” Tyler asked, noticing as he started to pull out of the lane.

“Sorry, just haven’t driven over here in a minute, was confused for a second.” You giggled more readjusting to the roads.

“I don’t have anything comforting to say, just the way it is, the way it should be.” He teased you.

“Sure.. whatever you say.” You poked back rolling your eyes. Being American made for easy jokes.

“I told him I got you, he won’t be on his phone today really so if you don’t hear from Trent before don’t take it personally.” Tyler spoke unprompted.

“Oh… yeah? Thanks. I didn’t want to bother him. Don’t really know anything about match day protocol I guess…. I usually am a few pints in by this point.” He laughed at your honesty.

“We'll get you a drink eventually. But after… usually best bet is to let him come to us depending on the result. I know he’s embarrassingly excited to see you though so I’ll get you to him.” He said openly not taking his eyes off the road.

You arrived at the hotel and Tyler offered to help you check in but you assured him you could manage, he already had done a lot and had to come back for you in a little so you felt a little guilty taking up more of his time. He left once you gestured to him through the window you had successfully got your room key.

You got to your room and immediately collapsed on the bed not long before springing back up and practically ripping off your clothes thinking about getting airplane germs on the fresh bed. You swiftly made it to the shower immediately.

You wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel sat on the edge of the bed, trying to remember what you had planned to wear to the match tonight. You looked at your open suitcase, beauty products now covering the counter tops, the sweatshirt you wore on the plane spilling out of your Goyard when you spotted the little box Trent had left for you peaking out.

“Oh shit” you exclaimed out loud in the empty room recalling you hadn’t opened it yet. You pulled at the ribbon, unraveling the knot opening the lid to reveal a small velvet jewelry box. You popped it open to see a gold band, it was a classic ring but it had a raised block font with the letters ‘TAA’ pressed onto it. You liked how personal it was, you liked that he wanted you to wear his initials. There was a little card with his scribbled handwriting, nothing too grandiose, just simple.

‘Your TAA xx’

You slid the ring on and you felt like your heart could burst. Getting a ring from Trent caused your mind to fantasize at what other sort of ring he could eventually buy you. Calling himself yours made you smile uncontrollably too. You threw on a tank top and shorts to lay in bed for a moment telling people back home you arrived safely in England when your screen flashed with an incoming FaceTime.

“Guess where I ammmmm” you answered while sitting up a little in the bed. Your arm wrapped tightly around your chest in excitement seeing the gorgeous boys face grace the screen. Overjoyed considering Tyler’s warning you may not hear from him.

“Baby, I cannot believe you are so close right now.” Trent said beaming.

“Weird right?!” You giggled.

“You promise you’re actually coming tonight, you and Ty aren’t just messing with me?” He sounded more serious than he needed to be. You flipped your camera to face away from you showing him your dainty hand now fitted with the ring with his initials, the Liverpool waterfront visible from the window behind your fingers. Confirmation you were definitely here before turning the camera back to you.

“Promise, pretty boy!” You cooed “Cannot wait to see you tonight.”

“You cannot wait to kiss me.” He corrected you, his eyes dropping a little lower to your chest now.

“Mmm” You hummed to get his attention knowing that your tits were on display. “Don’t you have to focus, dial in?”

“I’m focused… trust me.” Trent said lustfully before snapping out of his gaze.

“I do actually have to run but just needed to make sure you got here safely.” He rambled.

“All safe” you smiled.

“If there’s a lot of stoppage time tonight, I’m going to be pissed. Need to see my baby.” He groaned

“See you tonighttt, my T” you practically sang your smile getting bigger at the thought before hanging up. You pulled yourself out of bed knowing that Tyler and Marcel would be coming to pick you up sooner than later and you had to get ready.

You went for light makeup, your hair in a middle part and down, natural. You slipped on some promiscuous lingerie inspecting how you looked in the mirror. Once you confirmed this looked like the right set for your first night back together you put on Trent’s jersey. The warm feeling returned in your chest. You were a fan before you’d ever met him but knowing this was his, from him, it just felt different and you couldn’t suppress the butterflies filling your stomach. You pulled it tucking it up into the band of your bra, a hack you did to crop the shirt showcasing your stomach.

You chose a pair of fitted leather pants, you knew your ass looked good in them. After a long internal debate you landed on a Barbour jacket, it seemed the most weather appropriate. Frankly, your shoe choice was impractical, committing your look so you went with a pair of tan suede pointed toed heeled boots. And of course, it would only be right to bring the Chanel bag Trent had got for you. You weren’t monogamous to silver or gold so you wore both metals dripping in a ton of jewelry. Grabbing your phone from the charger you double checked you had everything and stood in the mirror analyzing every aspect of your outfit but was interrupted by the unknown UK number calling your phone. You usually wouldn’t but you answered assuming, not surprised to hear a familiar scouse accent giving you shit for running behind.

“I’m sorry!! I’m coming right now” you sincerely apologized to Marcel on the other end of the phone rushing. You walked through the lobby adjusting your outfit when the lady who checked you in earlier friendly questioned you.

“Headed out to the game tonight hun?” She asked spotting you adjust the team jersey.

“Yep!” You said sweetly with a smile but trying to hurry along as to not hold up the boys any longer.

“They are a handsome lot, maybe you’ll find yourself a player to bring back.” She said quite cheekily but it was meant with good lighthearted intentions.

“Maybe…” you said smugly, slyly, little did she know your reality.

You jumped into the familiar big Mercedes back seat you were in mere hours ago.

“You’re aware it’s a footie match?” Marcel made fun of your over the top outfit. It really wasn’t, frankly, they just were in far more casual clothes.

“Yes, I do and your opinion is not important to me. I like my outfit. Thank you very much!” You quipped teasing back.

You were thankful you’d been to Anfield before because it was actually quite overwhelming arriving. You had entered in sectioned off areas but even so the two brothers weren’t exactly walking around going unnoticed at the stadium. You could feel people staring. It was loud, bustling, and being thrust into the close circle of families and friends of players had you feeling out of place. You had made your way into a box nestled high in the stadium. It actually vibrated from the fan curated atmosphere. Opposite of you, the boys were so relaxed, they looked to be completely at home, before offering you a pint as promised. Haphazardly they showed you around the suite, the seats, where things were gradually. The noise outside only grew when the team made their way onto the pitch to warm up.

Even though he was younger than you Marcel felt like he needed to keep an eye on you. He could sense your nerves so he put his hand on your shoulder gently and guided you out of the box into the open air seats overlooking the field.

“He’s number 66.” He said facetiously pointing obviously down at Trent. Your heart nearly stopped seeing him. He was actually focused on football now opposed to your tits on FaceTime earlier, striking the ball with ease, laughing a little.

He looked so beautiful. Under the floodlights, his skin was just glowing. He had aura… god, he just radiated a coolness. He was so subtly confident, so sexy. Your finger stroked over the raised letters of your new ring settling your rapid breath. You couldn’t peel your eyes away, it had been so long since you’ve seen him in the flesh and there he was but he was still so so far away.

In a moment, the crazed environment completely faded away when Trent lifted his head, inspecting the stands, combing through faces in the box till he landed on yours. That smile. Oh my god, that smile on his face had you completely falling apart inside. He sent a quick wink your way, still attempting to keep his concentration on the game. Although small, his acknowledgement calmed you feeling more comfortable, finally taking off your jacket, admittedly slightly shyly considering you were sitting with boys who shared the last name on your back.

“Uhhohh we got a fan” Tyler jeered.

“Ugh T, you’re so sexy. Please let me be a WAG” Marcel moaned in a terrible, but equally funny, American accent impersonating you.

“I hate you both” you said with no real conviction, your eyes refusing to break from watching Trent stretch, it was hot.. you couldn’t deny it.

You had relaxed, meeting a few people, drinking and laughing with his brothers, you were having fun. The starting eleven took their positions before kick off. Trent had made his way to the back right of the pitch that was closer to where you all were sat. There was a pause, a hum of anticipation for the match to begin but in the lull Trent turned to look for you once more. He found you much faster this time, pressing his hand to his lips, blowing you a kiss pointing up to you directly. You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face if you tried. It was bold, it was public, it was just for you. You were lost in the moment, looking longingly into the big brown eyes that felt miles away. You pushed your lips, pressing a kiss into the crisp air towards him. He smiled before putting his head back down to regain focus.

His brothers looked completely shocked at the interaction. Marcel’s hand gripped Tyler’s leg. They knew you two were into each other, it seemed to be serious, but never… never had they seen Trent break professionalism and do something so affectionate, not only in public, but on a massive stage. This game was at a fully packed stadium, broadcasted, spectated internationally and he without a single second of doubt was blowing a kiss to you.

The ref blew the whistle signaling the start of the match but also the start of something much more.

•

Thank you for continuing reading! DW smut will return! Let me know what you think!!!!!

Next part - Chapter 11

[inaflashimagine]

(i’ll love you) til’ the day that i die

pairing: nagumo yoichi x reader

wc: 5k

features: a piece that is part of a multi-chapter nagumo x reader x akao rion story i've been working on–i found it fitting that this section talks about his birthday! the only present he'll be getting here though is angst. includes manga spoilers, numerous mentions of akao. no use of pronouns. and for some context, reader was a poisons-making student at the JCC

The harmonious union between Sakamoto Taro and Aoi is slated to happen during the middle of the worst heat wave in years.

It’s also the same week as Nagumo’s birthday.

Within a hand’s length lies a mini swiveling fan working its best in spite of the brutal conditions. When the weak breeze finally hits the front of your face you let out the most contented sigh. 

Today you’re supposed to water the bountiful assortment of plants decorating your living room and balcony–some cultivated for fun, like the tricky fern a doting, elderly neighbor had given you recently, and others grown for work, like your newly blooming sacred datura–but completing such a task would require you to stand up. And since moving from your current position requires energy you cannot manage to expend, you continue lying on the wooden floor of your apartment, limbs sprawled out lazily like a lounging starfish as you try to ignore the perspiration forming on your forehead. 

Staring at the ceiling, you think about the outfit Asami helped you choose a few days ago, an alarmingly expensive one that’s currently hidden in the corner of your packed closet–a simple, but elegant chiffon fit that flows down to the ankles. Unfortunately, you fear that a feather-light fabric won’t stop you from sweating buckets if your current get-up of a loose tank top and baggy shorts has anything insightful to offer on how you’ll fare the weather in the coming days.

You also regret not buying a present for Nagumo the day you went shopping. The wedding is not for three days, but his birthday is tomorrow. There’s no shot you’ll be able to leave your place today unless someone drags you out of it.

Even if you somehow manage to get outside, you’re still not sure what you’ll get him. Though he denies your accusations of him being a scrupulous person with refined tastes (“Me? Picky? Never!”), you’ll never forget almost choking on your dinner the one time you decided to search up the price of those shiny custom leather boots he likes to wear on assignments. The same missions where blood splatters all over the place.

Not that it matters. Unlike Asami, you don’t have the uncanny ability to distinguish and pick out good designer items, so purchasing anything in that realm feels pointless when he likely already owns that piece or will return the ones he dislikes. You guess being a professional assassin with a lot of money to spend means you can afford to be more deliberate with what you wear.

It also feels cheap to repeat presents, although there are a few golden ones to choose from the previous list. When he turned nineteen, he was initially wary of using the hefty supply of medicine you made to treat his motion sickness, considering you first gave him a similar concoction in high school that only had him hurling more violently. (A genuine mistake, you swear. Perhaps just as much as he swears his car sickness is genuine and not an excuse to get out of driving duty.) But aside from a mission that Sakamoto said would’ve been a disaster without Kamihate, lately you haven’t heard any complaints about him feeling carsick.

(Though two weeks ago, Shishiba picked up the batch of incapacitating agents and truth serums he needed for a target before randomly telling you that Nagumo still takes the pills whenever there’s a particularly long car trip. It almost felt like the blond was indirectly thanking you, since he said he was grateful that the rental cars could now stay tidy, but that small, knowing smirk irked you enough to tell him to get going with his mission unless he wanted to be forcefed an onion salad.) 

Maybe Nagumo would like an air conditioner. You sure would like one. 

There is one other option. It wouldn’t be particularly fancy or brand new, but perhaps the sentiment it brings will suffice. Slightly lifting your head, you stare at one of the only two pictures hanging on the otherwise blank wall. You swear you had a copy of it, but now you’re doubting yourself. The more you mull it over, the more complicated it seems, and you groan in frustration as your head hits the hard floor rather forcefully.

Just fretting over this makes you laugh. Your high school self could never imagine this being what you’d spend your waking days thinking about. Back then, the thought of calling Nagumo your friend made you instantly gag, and while now you sometimes hate admitting it aloud, it would be childish to outright deny your friendship with him. 

You only started getting him presents when someone suggested a group one for his eighteenth, begrudgingly agreeing to the idea because you figured a smiling, happy Nagumo was significantly better than dealing with a version that would resort to theatrics to lament the lack of receiving a present. Strangely enough, gifting him something not only celebrates his day but also feels like you’re keeping the spirit of another alive.

“Care to share your thoughts?”

Your lips pull into a slight frown, finding that the comforting canvas that is your ceiling has now been blocked by Nagumo’s large forehead.

“No wonder why you grow out your bangs.”

“Hurtful!” But his smirk hints that he’s not too offended, even when a freakishly long arm stretches outward to flick your own head. “Whatever happened to a simple ‘Hello’, dare I even say, a cordial ‘How are you’?”

“Oh. Right. I guess I can say that.” You blink slowly, a gesture he returns. “But maybe after you tell me how you got in here?”

That question is a moot one, considering he’s become an expert at discovering new ways to break into your apartment without causing a ruckus. To tally the number of times you’ve opened the front door just to see him lounging on the couch–smooching off your snacks and streaming subscriptions despite having his own–would require more than the two hands you currently have attached. Unfortunately, there’s no point in changing the locks when he knows how to pick each one.

He remains bent over from the waist up, hands placed on hips as his eyes idly roam across your face. From this position, falling strands of his jet-black hair look like icicles that are on the precipice of impaling your head.

“You know, you really should shut your windows when you’re not in the room! Who knows when a psycho might sneak into your lovely home?”

Entering through your bedroom window is a new method. Though you’ve only started living here for half a year, eager to move into a place that wasn’t directly above your’s family perfumery. After the JAA News Channel and the JAA Times deemed the shop the second-best fragrance store in the Western branches–tragically losing the coveted first-place spot to the Nishimuras–clientele has been an all-time high while privacy has been abysmally low. (Yet perhaps you’ve overestimated your ability to find the latter in the first place.)

You’re just glad you don’t have to go to the locksmith again–the poor old man started to worry for your safety when he saw you for a third time in less than a month. 

“Did you say hi to Mochi? He’s been enjoying his free roaming time.” 

He appears as if his brain stopped working, blank doe eyes as wide as ever. A nervous laugh leaves his agape mouth that becomes frozen into a forced grin. “He’s what?”

“What’s with that tone?”

“Oh, you mean my perfectly normal reaction to finding out your poisonous snake is outside its tank?”

Your dejected sigh is a long one. “For the millionth time, he’s venomous, not poisonous.”

The footsteps of professional assassins are quieter than that of a seasoned ballerina, so the fact that you can easily hear Nagumo’s hurried ones as he retreats to the hallway shows how dramatic he’s being. Your assumption that he’s heading to the guest room–which currently holds all your reptilian enclosures, including a safely stored Mochi–is right as he exclaims, “Oh, you think you’re a comedian now?”

Though the joke was short-lived your amusement thankfully lasts longer. “You still haven’t greeted him, that’s so rude! My, oh my, whatever happened to a simple ‘Hello’? Don’t hurt his feelings.”

“Killing the birthday boy is ruder! I can’t believe you’d do that to me.”

While Mochi is a boomslang, a snake whose venomous bite can have you bleed from all your orifices until you die, his previous owner made the rather unethical choice to have its glands removed. He’s probably the most timid snake you’ve rescued–and one of the most beautiful with such vibrant green scales–but you’d never free handle him. Of course, Nagumo doesn’t need to know that important tidbit. With how rare it is to successfully prank or lie to him, you secretly enjoy pulling his leg once in a blue moon.

“Not sure if you know this, but your birthday isn’t for another twenty-four hours,” you say with closed eyes, trying to picture yourself on a cool island rather than the sweltering oven that is your living room. Talking right now feels incredibly draining. “So at this very moment, there is no obligation to keep you entertained.”

Nagumo draws out a weary exhale. “Must you make our relationship sound so transactional? I just wanted to relax with a friend after a busy work day.”

When you no longer feel the faint wind from your fan, you crack an eye open and turn your head, only to see that the precious item has been moved so that he can direct it toward his own face while he places himself next to you.

His body lies in the opposite direction to yours, but both your curious gazes match at the same level. He’s replaced the suit and tie for an unbuttoned and eccentrically patterned camp collar shirt over a baggy black tank top and bright blue shorts, meaning the scorching heat outside is no fluke. It’s the first time you’re noticing how long his hair has grown, a small knot poking out from the nape of his neck.

“I’m not sure if our relationship is transactional since that implies a two-way model,” you explain slowly, like a teacher introducing a complex concept to their students. “I give, you take, and then I take when you give. If that’s actually the case, what will I get after you’ve stolen my hair tie?”

You just bought a new pack of them, too. The urge to head to your room to see if they’ve all been swiped from your vanity is strong, but the will to stay still is stronger.

He grins largely, the pale skin on his neck pulling taut as your glance falls to the Fibonacci spiral. That was the first tattoo he got after receiving the hefty commission that comes with being a member of the Order. It seems to glisten with small beads of perspiration, and you’re surprised the only enemy that triggers him to break out into a sweat is this unbearable weather.

“Well, I figured my presence was enough for you. Maybe more than enough, even.”

The snort that leaves you is less than graceful. “That’s a line all your targets must love hearing.”

He hums, stroking his chin. “I wouldn’t know, since I just came up with it today, and I took the day off.”

“You said today was a long work day.”

“Did I?” His carefree laugh sounds like chimes rustling in the soft wind. “Ah, you know me, I always take the week off for my birthday.”

“You’ve never done that.”

“It’s a new tradition. Thought it would be fitting with the little wedding happening in a few days.” His fingers lock together when he places them atop his chest, exhaling a wistful sigh. “Sakamoto-kun, getting married! They grow up so fast.”

Your body tenses at that. You know it should be good news–you’re happy for Sakamoto, too. It’s the implications that come with marrying a civilian that makes you worry.

Hyo brought it up during the last time he stopped by the shop, needing to pick up domoic acid for a mission; the sight of one of the tallest men you’ve seen cradling a miniature bottle would’ve provided more comic relief were it not for his questions that followed. When he commented that the quiet man was taking more time off and following through on fewer assignments, you figured he was mildly complaining about the need for other Order members to pick up his slack. Then he asked when was the last time you talked to Sakamoto.  

It would’ve seemed random–especially since you and Hyo seldom discuss anything beyond fragrances and poisons–had you not made that unspoken agreement with Nagumo months ago. Since that night, you’ve been careful with running into Sakamoto, or any 7-Eleven for that matter. 

And from what Nagumo has told you, no one else in the Order knows about Aoi, much less the fact that you two have met her. You hope it stays that way. The last thing this wedding needs is a splash of red.

Especially when you know the JAA doesn’t take well to assassins exposing the cracks in the association’s carefully constructed structure, and particularly when those who disrespect the rules causes others to question whether they could do the same. Almost two years have passed since Yotsumura’s defection, but his absence still looms over like a dark cloud in the distance that no one wants to acknowledge. The members first pointing out the fresh jagged scar on Shishiba’s chin was the last time anything connected to the founder of the Order was mentioned. 

His death serves a dull, painful reminder. A threat. Yotsumura was the one who hired you as a poisons expert retainer for his organization, a deal you only accepted after he assured you that you were chosen not because of Nagumo’s unabating–and Sakamoto’s sporadic–recommendations, but solely for recreating a highly coveted poison that was last made by your father. (“I don’t trust those two and I’m not the type to do favors. Besides, people who can make decent poisons are short in numbers these days.)

If the JAA treated their former No. 2 man like that, you fear how they might dispose of others who forget their loyalty. It’s a warning those like Hyo heed, and those like Sakamoto will ignore, especially if it contradicts what they want. 

So with Hyo being such a stickler for the rules, you simply shrugged at his question before changing the subject. If anyone is going to announce a JAA violation, it should be Sakamoto himself. Your job requires you to be okay with helping others kill, a fact you’ve never challenged, but you refuse to cause the death of an innocent civilian.

Thankfully, Hyo didn’t think much of your lack of an answer. Maybe he caught the visible discomfort in your shifting figure before dropping the topic, asking how your grandparents were instead. You sincerely hope his soft side–which you swear you’ve seen before–allows him to be more understanding of this delicate situation Sakamoto’s placed himself in. 

But the real concern lies in how long everyone will continue believing this false narrative that one of the country’s most formidable assassins won’t call it quits the minute he gets hitched to a normie.

“I still can’t believe it,” you say after a hot minute, eyes fixed back onto the ceiling. “They seem like complete opposites.”

Nagumos laughs, sounding quite amused. “Well, you’re definitely convinced they’ll stay together…”

“It’s not that, I just–” Where are you going with this? “Marriage is such a foreign concept to me.”

Even the way the word rolls off your tongue feels weird. Sounds off. 

“Foreign? Haven't you been to a wedding before?”

“Have you?”

Although he doesn’t respond right away, you can feel him burning holes into your face. 

You continue to stare straight above. 

“Well, I guess I crashed one, but that counts, right?” He bites his lip in contemplation. “The bride didn’t appreciate me killing the groom before their photoshoot, though.”

It takes restraint to not laugh darkly at what you ideally hope is a joke, but are cynically aware could very likely be the truth. “Gee, I wonder why…”

“Anyway, you act as if people in our profession don’t get married.”

“They don’t.” You won’t. At least, you don’t think you will. But telling him that feels wrong, so you stick with the unpleasant, sour taste in your mouth.

“And your parents? Mine?”

You can’t recall the last time he’s mentioned his parents. In fact, you don’t think he’s ever brought them up before.

“I mean, married to civilians.”

The sound of the fan whirring back to life makes you switch your gaze back to the floor. To Nagumo positioning the petite contraption next to your face.

“Man, this heat has you all depressed! We gotta make sure you’re not behaving like this at the wedding–no one likes a party pooper.”

“Nagumo, be serious for once,” you plead wearily, hating that it sounds like you’re whining.

“Oh man, I can’t be the only one feeling this sense of deja vu!”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t be daft. Haven’t we talked about this before?” There’s a mirthful glint in his gaze that accompanies that teasing tone.

Right, the ‘tranquil’ nightly stroll featuring a civil conversation that felt more like some absurd ultimatum. “Not to the extent we should’ve.”

“Hmm, I remember calling it silly. A tad foolish. Ridiculous, sure. What else will fit…I’ll have to pull out a thesaurus at this rate.”

“I’m worried for her.”

He immediately stops ticking off his senseless list of words, sharp eyes studying your concern. “Hah! Worried? Come on, you know he’ll protect her. Will probably teach her a few moves, or maybe it’s the other way around. He did mention that she’s a Bruce Lee fan.”

The steady thrum of the spinning fan matches the rapid beats of your heart as you look at him imploringly. “And you know that’s not what I’m concerned about.”

His lips press firmly, a sudden grim expression saying more than his words ever could.

Nagumo may be as skillful as Sakamoto, perhaps even more adept than his old friend, yet his inability to move on hinders him. He can lie about no longer being affected by it. Can masterfully hide his need for closure. But any hypocrite can spot when someone else is relying on the methods they also use.

He’s like you, in that way. The thought strikes your head so abruptly it begins to ache.

It’s his turn to look up, hands behind his head as he sighs. “It’ll be okay! Seriously. She trusts him.”

“As if that’s enough.” In this world, it isn’t. If Sakamoto attempts to leave, it will only follow him. 

He has to be aware of this. Right? Blind trust is reserved for idiots who enjoy getting hurt.

“Hmm, who’s to say? But being so guarded sure makes for a boring life.”

Your stomach twists into knots, cognizant of who that’s directed toward. “At least it guarantees safety.”

“Please,” he chides, not unkindly, “then why stick to poison-making? And nothing in life is guaranteed. You know that more than anyone.”

He must catch your slight wince–of course he does, who are you kidding?–because he quickly adds on, a bit higher in pitch and certainly more lively than how you’re feeling, “One never knows when there’s an assassin about to cut off your head, after all!”

“I’m talking about Aoi, here.” Yet you aren’t fooling anyone with how defensive you sound.

“You really are the worst liar I know.” He turns his body to face you in the same direction, calling your name when you’re reluctant to do the same. His voice is so quiet your ears strain to hear the low mumble. “What are you so afraid of?”

It doesn’t help that when you close your eyes, you only see her face. Can even vividly picture every single strand of blue hair that hides the tiny dark flecks in those annoyingly golden eyes.

This really is the last conversation you want to have with anyone, least of all him. 

You suck in a short breath before rolling to your side, growing increasingly aware of how stuffy the room feels. How close he is to you. 

“I’m not afraid, I’m…” You falter. “I’m just tired of losing people.” 

Your face burns as you continue to be met with silence, a quiet that you doubt with how loudly your heart pounds against your ribs. The confession is incredibly shameful to say aloud, considering what you do for a living. It’s more embarrassing to admit it to another person, specifically to someone who will undoubtedly respond with one of his classic facetious remarks. (Though you argue such a reply is warranted.) 

But still, finally getting it out in the open, after sitting with it for so long, makes you feel a bit less lonely. 

He doesn’t say anything, his uncharacteristically sober gaze searching yours.

You feel him grab your hand gently, your muscles initially flexed when you see him place it on top of his cheek.

Yet there’s no other resistance on your end, and you’re frightened by how quickly your body reacts to the movement. Your palm even seems to have a mind of its own with the way it cups his face immediately. As if some primordial instinct just kicked in.

Nagumo stays still as your fingers trace soft lines across his smooth skin. From the delicate slope of his nose and the high set of cheekbones to the sharp edge of his jaw and the long lashes that frame round, dark eyes. Eyes that hold a void you’re never able to tap yourself into, unless you risk getting sucked into that black hole. 

You feel starved, unable to stop admiring a beauty so alluring. Inviting. He’s warm to the touch. 

Alive. 

And despite your brain reminding you that he’s here, right in front of you, another part of you can’t believe it until you’ve committed every feature to memory. The intimate action requires all your concentration that you nearly forget the light trail of sweat forming at the back of your neck, or the insufferable heat threatening to swallow you two whole.

Your fingers hover right above his lips with a slight waver, though you unabashedly stare at them and the way they twist upwards when he catches you in the act. 

“Go out with me.”

A mere whisper, terribly low that if you aren’t sharing the same breaths you might’ve missed it.

It feels like you just got the wind knocked out of you. Looking up, you blink away the reverie you slipped yourself into, trying your best to forget the moment when those exact same words were said by someone else so long ago. “What?”

“Go out with me,” he repeats, a bit louder this time, and that’s when you notice his hand is on your hip. “We can go to the wedding together. Be the hottest couple.” He pauses, thinking that over again. “Well, second hottest, I suppose. That’s what we’d tell them, anyway.”

You’d laugh from the shock of it all if it weren’t for your unsteady heart attempting to jump out of your chest. “How…forward of you.”

Even his snorts are graceful. “You say that as if it’s a new trait of mine.”

“That’s because I don’t know what else to say.”

He smiles enthusiastically, and there’s a rare hint of nervousness to its boyish character. “How about ‘yes’? That’s not only the easiest answer but the right one, especially for the birthday boy.”

“Hey, you can’t pull that card.” You’re surprised your racing mind can currently form a coherent sentence. “Not yet, at least.”

His eyes crease with the smug smirk playing on his lips. “Huh, I guess you’re right. Not that I need to use it. Because we both know you feel it, too.”

The tip of his thumb skirts under your shirt and a shiver wracks your body from the contact. 

To steady the slight tremor in your hand, you flatten your palm against his face. Grasping fingers find purchase in his hair, a light exhale falling past your lips upon realizing how soft it is. Uncaring for how you cause it to fall loose from the tied knot. You know you shouldn’t, that you should stop. But it’s the only thing grounding you at the moment.

You can see your conflicted expression reflected in those big brown eyes that you get lured into far easily. The cascading sunlight makes them appear as a rich, coppery chestnut you can’t, or rather, don’t want to tear yourself away from.  

For a brief second, you can picture it clearly, can sense it with every fiber of your being. His comforting embrace after a long, tiresome day. The curve of his lips against your own. Entwining his hands with yours. Taking in his scent until you can distinguish no other. Him having you all to himself and you having him all to yourself. Where no one else, no thing can reach. The image is so vivid that you can touch it with a stretch of your arm, feel it brush against the edge of your fingertips. Closing your eyes, you feel yourself lean in, almost allow yourself to give in, to be swept by the grandeur of it all.

Almost.

You’re not sure what exactly pulls you back, but the uneasy dread that begins pooling in your stomach becomes harder to ignore with each sharp breath. You swallow the lump in your throat, a dull ache in your heart as you painfully pry your heavy hand off him and shake your head.

“I can’t.” Air leaves your chest. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t.”

The instant those words leave your mouth you know you’ve made a mistake. You desperately wish you could tell him why–to provide him some sort of explanation beyond the half-assed ‘it feels wrong’. Or at least something, anything, that doesn’t teeter between the straight razor edge of unnecessarily cruel and downright insane.

But when his smile no longer reaches his eyes, you doubt a clarification would’ve prevented him looking this sad. 

And then it’s gone in an instant. His well-worn mask is back on, the sunny disposition written so well across his face you wonder if the slightest inkling of disappointment was simply a figment of your imagination. 

He truly is a master of his craft. 

The room suddenly feels frigid and sterile, and panic begins to rise in your chest the moment he starts getting up. 

You find yourself standing, lamely trailing behind as he begins to open the door. “Wait, hold on–”

“Now, no need to look so guilty,” he says casually, back facing towards you. He tilts his head so you can only catch a glimpse of his face. Save for the thin stretch of his lips, you can’t begin to read his expression, much less fathom what’s going on in that head of his. “Not when I was just kidding!”

The cheerful delivery of that last line sounds so feigned you much prefer being stabbed in the gut multiple times than being the one to blame for all this. 

“Nagumo,” you try once again, voice getting weaker, “We should talk about this.”

He’s less than a few steps away from you but you’ve never felt this distant from him. You hate how good he is at making it seem like you’re an acquaintance he can now cross off his yearly check-in quota. Oceans apart would be a generous underestimate.

“See you at the wedding!”

The door closes before you can register that he’s left, not giving you the chance to study even the slightest change in his face. 

Then again, you don’t think you’ve ever been able to read past his facade. 

In such a short amount of time, everything seems to have flipped upside down, anxiety gripping its claws into you while you pace back and forth in search of a solution. You worry it might be too late to mend the gaping hole you recklessly created. 

In your frenetic pacing, your shoulder bumps into the wall, two pictures no longer in view as they fall onto the floor. The shattered glass punctures the silence that weighs in the air. Cursing under your breath, you bend down, careful to not cut yourself with the broken shards as you pick up the first photo and stare at the four people looking right back at you. 

It was Asami’s first photograph on the new digital camera you had gifted her for her birthday. She told all of you to smile and look at the fancy device, but (shockingly) only you, the poisons student who treated a lab manual like scripture, followed her instructions. 

Sakamoto ended up blinking in this one, and the last time you checked, a frown was not a smile. A squinting Akao was right next to him and to your left. Her black jacket slipped past her shoulders as she poked Nagumo in the cheek after she caught him wiggling his hand behind your head with two fingers up. One of his eyes was closed, the other one looking at you, but at least he was grinning from ear to ear. You can’t even remember what she was shouting at him, her open mouth–with the slightest upward curve at the corner if you examine it long enough–remaining frozen in time. All you can recall is their bickering making you laugh hard enough that your smile felt effortless. 

You try your hardest not to cry but realize it’s a lost cause when a teardrop dampens the photo paper.

[wordsbyrian]

First Skateboard - Alex Morgan x Reader

Summary: A sequel to "Skater Girl" in which R (a professional skateboarder) gets a skateboard for Charlie.

A/N: I actually had the idea for this before the idea for Skater Girl but I felt like I had to write that one first. Yeah, enjoy. Also, all mentioned skateboarders are real people except the photographer.

Ever since you reconnected with Alex a few years ago, life has been going pretty well for you. On both a personal and professional level.

Professionally, you’ve dropped some of your best video parts ever, you brought home a couple of X Games, SLS, and Dew Tour medals and you backside-flipped El Toro before they tore it down.

In your personal life, you and Alex got married a few years ago and have since had a daughter Charlie.

Plus, you haven’t even been tempted to break your sobriety since that day you saw Alex at the bottom of the hill.

Good things all around.

And they were only going to get better because Reynolds, your close friend and the man in charge of Baker skateboards, called last week and told you to expect a surprise with your next board and merch delivery.

A delivery which just arrived.

Flinging the front food open, you shout thanks to the mailman before grabbing both boxes and heading inside, the door slamming shut behind you.

Normally, all of your sponsorship deliveries get taken directly to either your car, for immediate use or to your “skate cave” (the garage) to be out of the way until you need them.

This time you carry them straight to the living room, where Alex and Charlie are hanging out.

“Hey Chuck,” you say, getting the attention of both your wife and daughter, “Uncle Andrew sent you a present.”

“Present?”

“Yea, little dude,” you confirm, setting both boxes down, “a present.”

As Charlie walks to you on slightly unsteady feet, you have to do your best to not laugh at the look on Alex’s face.

You know what she’s thinking, of course, the last time Reynolds sent you anything for Charlie, it was a baby dirt bike that was immediately banished to the garage.

Although, he’s assured you it's nothing that out there this time around.

Dropping to the ground beside the boxes, you shoot her what you hope is a reassuring smile before using a key to slice the tape and help Charlie open them.

When she does get the first open, you have to hold back another laugh because sitting on top of all the fresh merch is a bottle of Tylenol with the words “For Alex - Chill Pills” written on it.

Grabbing them before Charlie can, you toss them to their designated recipient.

“Looks like the Boss sent you something too, babe,” you say, carefully watching her face for any reaction.

It takes her a moment but eventually she just sighs deeply, putting the bottle somewhere Charlie can’t reach it, and speaks, “All of your friends are idiots, especially Reynolds.”

“I’ll make sure that I let him know you said that.”

Looking back down, you’re unsurprised to see Charlie already reaching into the box and pulling out some of the items.

It’s mostly shirts with the latest designs on them and you see a few packs of stickers and some hats in there as well.

Dropping one of the hats on the toddler’s head so that it covers her eyes, you hurriedly hide the stickers, sliding them underneath your leg. The last thing you want is for Alex to be mad because you let Charlie put one somewhere it shouldn’t go.

By the time she removes the hat, all stickers are out of sight and you’re already opening the box containing the decks.

Once it’s open you see exactly what Reynolds was talking about.

There sitting on top of the boards that you know are for you, is what has to be the smallest skateboard you have ever seen.

Smiling softly, you pass it to Charlie who immediately spins around to show Alex.

“Mommy,” she shouts, “Look what Uncle Andrew got me.”

The smile on Alex’s face is forced but she hides it well enough that Charlie can’t tell.

“That’s so cool, baby,” Alex says, “Why don’t you go put it in your room with your other toys.”

It takes a moment but Charlie does eventually run off to put the board away. You and Alex both stare after her silently waiting to see if she comes running back or if she gets distracted like she normally does.

When she doesn’t come rushing back, Alex immediately turns on you, face set in a hard glare.

“Seriously, Y/N,” she asks.

“What?”

“A skateboard? She’s not even three years old yet.”

“It’s just a board Alex, it’s perfectly safe,” you say calmly.

“You just got a cast taken off your arm last week.”

“That’s because I’m an idiot, Charlie isn’t going to be trying to drop in off roofs for a long time,” you try to explain, “Besides with me, Reynolds, and all the other guys, she’ll be perfectly safe.”

The look you get lets you know that your appeal isn’t working at all.

And if the look wasn’t enough to show you that Alex wasn’t moved by your words, what came out of her mouth surely is.

“I’m sorry that I don’t trust your idiot friends who nearly burned down their own warehouse to keep my daughter safe.”

Something about the way she says it pisses you off but the reasonable part of your brain knows that being angry isn’t going to make this conversation any easier.

So you take a moment, putting everything back in the boxes and grabbing them as you stand up.

“I’m gonna go put this stuff away,” you say, not looking at her, “Come talk to me when you remember that Charlie’s my kid too.”

“Y/N.”

You cut her off and continue walking away, “Seriously Alex, not now.”

A few weeks later, the incident is mostly forgotten, in that neither you nor Alex have brought it back up and have chosen to continue like it never happened.

At least that’s how you’ve been handling it until Alex walks into your bedroom one night after Charlie’s been put to bed with a concerned look on her face.

“What’s the matter,” you ask, setting your book down.

“The nanny canceled for tomorrow.”

“Oh shit.”

Alex has to hold back a smile as she rolls her eyes at your response and walks to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

“Yup,” she says, “And I can’t take her to training with me tomorrow, we have meetings in between our two sessions.”

“I’m kinda free in the morning, I’ve got a couple of calls with Nike and Red Bull,” you tell her, “the problem is the afternoon. Beagle and some of the guys are supposed to come down so we can get clips. Deadline’s coming up.”

You hear a groan followed by a light slight thump before Alex speaks again.

“Crap, can you take her with you,” she asks.

It’s your turn to grimace, the idea of having Charlie watch you and your friends practically throw yourself down stairs is not a very appealing one.

Seeming to sense your hesitation, Alex continues speaking, “You can bring the board Reynolds sent her and show her what you do for work.”

“Uh, what,” you say confused.

“Last week, Charlie said that I play soccer for work and that you take phone calls for work,” she says in a way of explanation.

“I’m not sure how that managed to change your mind about her skateboarding.”

It takes her another moment to respond and you just sit there staring waiting for her to finish brushing her teeth.

When she does, she walks back out of the bathroom and says, “You don’t think it’s weird that our daughter has no idea what you do for work? It doesn’t bother you?”

“Uh, no,” it sounds like a question even though you don’t mean for it to. “I’m 33 years old and I have no clue what either of my parents did for work when I was a kid. I think my dad might have been in the mob.”

“Can you be serious for 5 minutes, Y/N/N?”

“I think I’d die if I tried,” you say with a grin, “Might even be offed by my mob boss father.”

“You’re intolerable,” Alex says getting into bed.

“So I’ve been told,” you respond, “Just relax, I’ll take Chuck with me tomorrow. We’ll hang out with Beagle and the boys and everything will be cool.”

And for the most part, the majority of the next morning is cool, your calls go well and you manage to get all the details you need for the team tours hammered out.

The afternoon is when things take a slight turn.

First, Beagle and the guys showed up a little early, which normally wouldn’t have been a problem but Figgy walked into the house and immediately went to wake Charlie up from her nap.

Then you had to try and get a toddler and five grown men out of the house. It was only the promise of you buying lunch that convinces your friends and the promise of being taught to skateboard that convinces Charlie to head out to the van.

After that, it's back to smooth sailing.

You guys manage to knock out a few spots, everybody getting the tricks or lines that they’ve been working.

It’s at the final spot that you realize that maybe Alex was right about not having your friends around Charlie.

It all happens so suddenly too.

One second you’re slamming after yet again failing to laser flip down the Valencia 20 stair and the next you’re hearing a little voice saying, “Mama, you just got fucking broke off!”

And the only thought you have, while you’re laying there trying to catch your breath, is that it’s your fault really. You're the one that left Dickson and Theotis watching her while you tried this trick.

You don’t even have the energy to tell her not to say things like that, you need every last ounce of it that you do have to pull yourself back up the stairs to give the trick another go.

You speak only a few words on your way back up, “Thanks, Charlie. Beagle, I’ve got it this try, man.”

“Yeah, man, let’s get it,” the filmer shouts up at you.

It’s probably going to be your last shot to nail this trick, your body is aching, your shirt is torn, and you're pretty sure that you’ve got a couple of scrapes leaking blood and staining it.

So taking a deep breath, you begin pushing towards the stairs again.

Next thing you know, you're at the bottom of the stairs still on your board rolling away. Figgy, Dickson, and MIke, your photographer, are hooting and hollering, Theotis is skating after you holding Charlie, and Beagle is running behind you, camera still in hand.

Slowing to a stop, you let yourself be surrounded by your friends and take Charlie into your arms, you look at Beagle who speaks first.

“That’s the ender right there man, we start the part with that last slam and we have gold bro,” he says.

Before you have a chance to respond, Charlie speaks.

“Mama that was so cool,” she practically yells in your face, “Teach me how to do that?”

“Maybe we work on the basics like standing on the board first, and then work our way up to things like that,” you tell her, already fearing the repercussions from Alex. “Come let’s go ride for a bit while Figgy tries to kill this rail.”

“It’ll be gnarly.”

That night when you get home, you’re unsurprised to see that Alex is already there.

“Babe, we’re back,” you shout in greeting.

“In the kitchen.”

Making your way there, you’re quick to try and greet her with a kiss but you’re shocked when she leans away instead of returning your affection.

When you pout at her, she just rolls her eyes and says, “You smell, you’re covered in dirt, and,” she pauses, “Is that blood?”

“Might be,” you shrug, “Can I have my kiss now?”

You lean in again only to be stopped by a hand to the chest pushing you away.

“Go take a shower and then I’ll think about it,” she says.

Taking a step back you sigh, “Ugh fine. Charlie tell your mommy about all the stuff you did today.”

You begin walking away as your daughter begins to ramble. You make it halfway to your room when you hear it.

“And then we went to a school and Mama got fucking broke off when…”

You go running back to the kitchen shouting, “Charlie no!”

Alex glares at you the second you make it to the doorway.

“Y/N,” her voice is stern, “Why is our toddler cursing?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Never again, Y/N, never again.”

“Fair enough.”

[corvase]

friends with benefits to lovers

EXCITED IS AN UNDERSTATEMENT. FEEL FREE TO USE & ENJOY!!!! <3

exes to friends w benefits to lovers …?? smirk smirk wink wink

^they’re up to their frisky business and one character just pauses and says “do you remember the one time we bought like ten packs of cookies from sobeys at one am that one time?” and the character is just taken aback

^^they’re making out on one’s bed and one character looks over to the side and sees one of their couple things and is like “what’s that doing over there !”

“you staying over?” “duh. i don’t only like your body, silly, i like your netflix, too.”

the heavy feeling in their gut when they realize they have to introduce the other person as “just a friend”

one character wakes up before the other and just lies down beside them watching their chest go up and down, thinking ‘i can’t believe i am blessed enough to know such an ineffable person’

not knowing how to respond or feel about the protective feeling they get when someone asks if theyre dating the other person

“i think meeting you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. i sometimes think just sitting with you is better than any make out session we could have.” “i think so, too.”

one of them needs a date for a wedding or business event and so they have to fake date for a couple weeks/months

“i love your fingers. they’re so pretty.” “are you sure them being pretty is the thing you like about them?”

a character thinking to themselves “i love how they never make me feel like i’m something to finish with. they always cherish me.”

“if i make you uncomfortable, tell me.” “you don’t. you never have. its one of the things i love about you.”

“i think you’re one of my favorite people.”

“i love being around you.” “i love that you love being around me because i love being around you, too.”

the moment when the jealousy from the other character pulling away to pursue a possible different love interest kicks in

“we’re kinda like a married couple, aren’t we?”

“i’m so proud of you.” and a shocked and slow response like “oh. thank you.” because they’re surprised it means so much to them that the other character would be proud

“i figured out that i love you this weekend and i just wanted tell you. i understand if you don't feel the same but i want you to know that the time we spent together means a lot to me and i’m glad we met—" "WAITTT YOU LOVE ME TOO????" "…………………………. TOO???"

they pull up to grab breakfast and one character just knows the others order by heart, no questions asked

“why are you so mad i’m talking to name? i thought you said you wanted to end this. you did.”

^ having to explain (or not explaining but thinking) that they wanted to end it in a “i don’t wanna be fwb i wanna be DATING you” way

they realize they love the other person because as soon as anything big happens in their life their first reflex is to tell them

“stop, i’m ticklish.” “i know.”

“i love you. have i told you that?” “oh my God. no you haven’t.” “……………. oh.”

consider when writing it : what are the stakes? more than just “losing a good friendship”, what would be so wrong with one character confessing their love to another? who else is involved? any secondary love interests? when do your characters realize they love each other and why? is it requited at first, if at all?

also if you know any books with this trope tell me. for research purposes of course.

[shadowdaddies]

Can I please request a bit of fluff and a bit of smut where Cassian and reader are each others firsts? 💜

okay I had to think about how I wanted to write this. I’ve seen people write first times as amazing, some as painful. This is more like my first time. You’re learning how to communicate what you want, and let’s be honest. Cassian is for sure packing, but Mr. “quick off the mark”’s first time wasn’t anything to write home about performance wise and that’s normal. Just listen to each other, it’s a learning experience (I thought of the movie “The First Time”, would recommend)

The First Time

Cassian x Reader

A/N: this is heavy on the fluff, and is sexually explicit but it's on the more humorous side. I laughed out loud writing the end because it's what happened to me lmfao. hope y'all enjoy

Warnings: smut, (very brief) p in v sex, not proofread, minors dni

You looked around the table where you were gathered with your friends, each of them coupled off with their males. Sighing, you rested your chin in your hand and scanned the tavern. Whether you were searching for something to do or an excuse to leave, you couldn’t say. You just knew you were sick of the relentless teasing from your friends about being inexperienced and needing to find yourself a male. You told yourself you were waiting for the right one, and while that made sense to you, you also found yourself wanting whoever the right one was more and more. 

As you looked around, a friendly wave from the bar caught your eye. It was an effort to stifle your excitement as you realized it was your friend, Cassian, who beckoned you over. You quickly excused yourself from the table and made your way to the bar where you practically jumped into Cass’s arms. He was so big and warm that you looked for an excuse to hug him anytime you saw him. He smiled brightly down at you, and your heart leapt in your chest, grateful to have another single friend around. 

“How is my favorite girl tonight?” Cass asked you as he flagged the bartender for drinks for the both of you. You sighed, glancing back to the table of your friends who were all over each other. You wanted to scream at them to get a room, but instead turned back to Cassian, linking your arm through his as you grabbed your drink and made your way to a smaller table for just the two of you. “I’m better now,” you admitted to your best friend with a content smile. You felt so relaxed as the two of you talked for hours, likely an effect of the beer you’d been drinking. You watched Cassian’s eyes light up as he told you about how well he was doing in training, inviting you to watch him the next time he fought someone in the ring. The image of him shirtless and sweaty in training flashed in your mind, and the drink, you’re sure, caused a flush to creep over your cheeks. Pushing the beer away, you decided one drink was enough for the evening.

Your eyes drifted back to your other friends, who were now leaving with their respective partners to continue their nights together. Unsure what propelled you to do so, you abruptly turned to Cassian and asked, “Cass, how many females have you been with?” Cassian choked on his drink as you gave you a wild look. “Wh-what do you mean?” You leveled him with a stare. “You know what I mean. How many people have you had sex with? Everyone is so obsessed with having sex, like it’s such a big deal that I haven’t-“ you froze, eyes widening as you realized you’d shared too much. You tried to recover, “I mean, people make a big deal if others haven’t done it, and I feel bad for them, you know?” 

You nervously looked up at Cassian, who was looking at you as though he was seeing you for the first time. He leaned closer across the table as he gently grabbed your hand and whispered, “you’ve never been with anyone?” You didn’t think you could turn any more flushed than you were at that moment as you stared at Cassian, desperately trying to find a way out of this mortifying situation. You were about to bolt for the door when Cassian held your hand firmly. “I’ve never been with anyone in that way.” He looked to you, and the vulnerability in his eyes made you melt into your chair. You always assumed that as confident as Cassian was, he was far more experienced than you.

You gaped at him, unsure of what to say when he murmured, “I’ve just been waiting for the right person,” and squeezed your hand. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think as every emotion possible passed through you while you attempted to process what he was saying. Cassian, your best friend, the one person who you felt the most yourself around. Were you crazy to think those feelings went beyond friendship? 

In a moment of bravery, you looked Cassian straight in his eyes, squeezing his hand back as you responded, “I’ve been waiting for the right person, too.” Cassian’s eyes went wide for only a moment before he stood, not releasing his hold on your conjoined hands as he led you out the tavern doors. He scooped you up in the bridal position as he flew to your home and set you down in front of the door. Tracing his hand along your jawline, Cassian looked deeply in your eyes, nervously searching for any sign of apprehension. You opened the door, leading Cassian in as you turned to him, biting your lip as you whispered, “Cassian, do you think I’m the right person?” He grabbed your face in his hands, leaning his forehead against yours as he said with unwavering certainty, “You are the right person, the one I’ve been waiting for,” and leaned in to kiss you. 

You expected Cassian to be rough and eager, but his kiss was gentle. You could feel the emotion behind every movement. This was what you were waiting for; someone who cared about you, who made you feel like you were more than seeking pleasure. You moaned into the kiss, moulding your body to his in confirmation that this was what you wanted. You took Cassian’s hand once more and led him towards your bedroom, where you guided him to sit on the bed as you undressed in front of him.

He was transfixed, the strong scent of his arousal drifting through the room as his eyes remained glued to your bare figure. You slowly moved towards him, kissing him as you tugged on the hem of his shirt. He eagerly yanked it over his head before drawing you back to kiss him. Cassian pulled back just enough to whisper, “are you sure this is what you want?” 

You had never been more sure of anything, pushing him back on the bed, only pausing to answer him with a definitive “yes,” before moving to kiss his neck, occasionally leaving marks as you ground against him. Cassian gasped against you at the feeling, grabbing your hips as he ground against you, releasing moans from both of you. 

He lifted you off of him, and you both reached for the laces on his pants, working in tandem to untie them before yanking them down. You laid down on the mattress, Cassian climbing on top of you as you let out a nervous breath. Cassian sensed your nerves, pulling back as he readied himself for you to have changed your mind. Instead, you let out a soft laugh as you gently tugged him closer with one hand around his neck. “I’m not sure what to do,” you admitted with another giggle. 

Cassian sighed with relief, answering you. “If you can guide... me” he said, looking down at his hard cock, “to you, I know what to do.” Your cheeks turned pink at the realization, but you brought your hand to his shaft, Cassian groaning at the contact, and brought it to your core, gently tipping your hips towards him to guide him further in. You both gasped at the contact, Cass slowly inching himself deeper into you. You could feel the stretch of him, but it wasn’t as unpleasant as you had heard from your friends. Cassian bottomed out inside of you while you both grew accustomed to the feeling, and you quickly wanted more. Of what, you weren’t sure, but the feeling of Cassian inside of you made you want to move your hips, and you began rolling against him. You moaned loudly at the feeling of his tip moving inside of you, quickly covering your mouth at the shock of the sound you’d made. 

Cassian looked at you hungrily, moving your hand from your mouth. “Don’t cover up those noises, please,” he pleaded. You nodded as you clenched around the feeling of him, so full inside of you. “Please, Cassian, I need to feel you.” He grunted, drawing back his hips and moving himself back into you. He repeated the action, and you felt euphoric at the sensation when he was fully inside of you. After a few moments of Cassian thrusting inside you, he let out a loud groan, and you felt a warm wetness inside of you. 

Cassian panted as he rested his forehead against yours. “Was that good for you?” He asked. You stared at him for a moment, trying to understand what happened. “That felt great. Is it over?” you questioned, as Cassian’s face turned bright red.

[mrs-johansson]

Strangers in the night - Scarlett Johansson x Fem!Reader

Part 21:

“That was amazing guys. Let’s do it one more time and we’re all done for the week,” Greta said from behind all the cameras and we all got back to our starting spots. “And action!” She yelled out and everyone was focused on their lines.

Speaking over each other, bumping into each other, working out every little thing that Greta asked for the scene.

“Christopher Columbus, look at that,” I walked in front of the painting, Timothée joining me. “That’s my grandfather. Are you scared of him?” He asked with a calm tone. “No, I’m not scared of anyone. He looks stern, but my grandfather was much more handsome,” I said. “Jo! We do not compare grandfathers,” spoke Laura from behind us and that was our cue to turn around surprised.

***

“When are you coming back?” Asked Flo as she was laying on my hotel room bed while I was packing a bag. “In a week. I won’t be needed for that time anyway,” I said. “Ah that’s a shame, but tell Scarlett happy birthday for me. What did you get her by the way?” She asked while munching away on her dinner. “I made a painting for her because she wanted one for a while now. I got her a bunch of little things, like new sunglasses because she broke her favorite pair, a necklace, stuff like that. And booked us a 5-day vacation between Christmas and New Year’s. I checked with her assistant and she doesn’t have anything booked and Rose will be with her dad, so we’re free to go.” “Aw, that’s nice. Where are you guys going?” “The Maldives. I haven’t had a real vacation all year and neither did she so I think we both deserve it,” I said and Florence nodded with a smile. “Yeah. I can’t believe you guys are going to be together for a year soon. It’s crazy, isn’t it?” She said and I was quick to let the smile loose on my face and think about my relationship. Oh, how I love my girl. “How you were pursuing me to get together with her because we were supposed to do a lesbian drama together?” I smirked and laughed after Flo’s face dropped. “Okay, now that’s not true,” she pointed her finger at me and I spread my arms with a smile. “Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

Hours later Florence was kind enough to drive me to the airport and after a quick goodbye, I was on my way back home, ready to kiss my girlfriend and see little Rose running around my living room.

Rolling my suitcase out with a hat on my head, trying to be very low profile, and find Scarlett quickly. As I exited the building I called Scar, looking around the parking lot. “Hey, are you out yet?” Spoke my girlfriend on the phone. “Yeah, I’m at exit B. Where are you?” I asked and the next second her car pulled up in front of me and the window started rolling down. “I could’ve spotted you from the other side of the parking lot,” she said as she hung up the call and I walked closer to the car. “No, you couldn’t, you can barely see without glasses,” I put my suitcase in the back and jumped into the passenger seat. Scarlett’s hand quickly found mine. “Hi,” I leaned to kiss her cheek, but she made sure that I gave a kiss to her lips also. “Missed you,” I mumbled against her soft skin. Looked from her lips to her eyes and I just fell in love with her eyes again and again. They are so inviting and warm and so seductive the way she could look. “I missed you too. Couldn’t really sleep without you,” she said, making me smile giddily. “Yeah?” Her eyes were just stuck to my lips and I could never get enough of that. She was magnetic, pulling me in with only a look.

But the next moment ruined the vibe very swiftly. Camera flashes lit up the car during the early hours of the New York night. Scarlett let out a heavy sigh before we both settled into our seats and she drove off with a huff. I took hold of her right hand and planted a soft kiss on the back of it. “Relax, baby. Frowning attracts wrinkles,” I said and a small smile pulled on her lips. “What, you’ll leave me once I have wrinkles?” She suggested jokingly and I chuckled while shaking my head. “I will love you and your wrinkles until my last breath, babe. Remember that when you first have wrinkles.”

About a 40-minute drive later we finally pulled up to my house. It was 10 pm already so I was a little tired but I wanted to spend all my time with Scarlett while I was here.

I brought my suitcase up to my room and then rushed down the stairs. Scarlett moved around the kitchen, looking for something edible but to her luck I cleaned out the fridge before I left so I wouldn’t come home to a rotten kitchen.

Quietly snuck up on her and wrapped my arms around her waist and left small kisses on the back of her neck and shoulders. Her hands held onto mine which was secure on her stomach while a light chuckle left her mouth. “What are we gonna eat? There’s nothing here,” she said but I couldn’t really care less about food. “We’ll order something,” I leaned my head against her back, closing my eyes and letting myself soak in the warmth of her body. “You’re very clingy, everything okay?” Scarlett asked rightfully because I’m not always this touchy. “I’m just happy to be home,” I mumbled. “Yet you’re not hugging your couch,” she chuckled but I just turned her in my arms and leaned on her shoulder, nuzzling my face into her neck. “You’re my home, you crazy woman,” I said, her arms wrapping around my shoulders. “I love you with all my heart baby,” said Scarlett then leaving a kiss on the top of my head. “And I love you forever.”

Soon we ordered some food and watched a movie. My choice was Grown ups but I was quickly shut down so we watched Dirty Dancing for the 100 time. I swear Scarlett acts like it’s her first time watching every single time but she’s cute about it so I don’t mind it.

We took a long shower and it was 1 am when we finally got to bed. I basically pulled the cover up to my ears and turned towards Scarlett. She was on her phone, just going through some emails before she put her phone down for good. “How’s the skincare stuff going? Any progress?” I asked and she nodded. “I found a potential business partner, so it’s coming together. If that works out we’ll have a great deal and it should be fine from then,” she explained and closed her phone, putting it on the charger.

Moved her pillow just a little closer to mine then got under the covers, wrapping her arms around me. “This is my favorite moment in the day,” I said with my eyes already closed, snuggling my face closer to her neck. “Yeah, mine too.”

***

Waking up in the morning I was very tired. It was 7 am when my eyes shot open and I couldn’t go back to sleep at all. I looked over at Scarlett to see her still fast asleep, so I got out of bed as gently as possible and pressed a soft kiss on her head before getting dressed and brushing my teeth, getting my hair ready before making my way to the grocery store.

Got enough food for the remaining days of my stay. I thought I’d make some great breakfast for Scarlett’s birthday tomorrow, so I got the ingredients for that. Bought some wine and a couple of candles for my bedroom because I’ve used up all of that was there. After paying I packed everything in the car and made my way home but as I was stuck at a red light, Scarlett’s small picture popped up on the console screen.

“Good morning,” I picked up the call with a small smile. “Where are you? It's 9 in the morning,” Scarlett’s raspy, heavy morning voice rang through the car as I drove on the streets of Manhattan. “I was at the store but I’ll be home in like 10 minutes. Did you sleep okay?” I asked. “Yeah, would’ve been better if you were here but it’s fine.” “Sorry, I just got some food and stuff. I’ll be there soon though.”

Once I got home, Scarlett was already sitting in the kitchen, drinking her coffee. I made breakfast for the two of us then we answered some emails and I approved some of the fresh cuts from Jojo Rabbit.

In the afternoon I made sure everything was set for Scar’s birthday dinner. I asked whether she wanted something smaller with a few close friends or more like a party thing, and to my surprise she asked for the party so I made sure to invite everyone she requested. I still haven’t met a lot of her friends so I was a bit nervous but I was happy to finally meet them.

Rose sadly only arrives on my last day in New York but it’s still better than nothing. So Scarlett suggested we stay home and hang out, rather than going somewhere public.

The next day rolled around quickly and when my eyes opened in the morning I was way too excited. Scarlett was obviously still sleeping so I gently slipped out of bed and made my way to the kitchen. I thought through the whole breakfast that I’d like to make for Scarlett’s birthday. It’s our first birthday together and I just wanted to go all out.

I made the fanciest breakfast I could think of that Scarlett liked. I prepared mimosas with the prettiest cutlery and plates that I had. And by the time I was finished, it was already 10 am so I went upstairs to wake Scarlett up.

She was wrapped up in the covers like it was freezing cold in the room and it obviously wasn’t. The blinds were still closed off, not a single source of light in the room. I got on my knees next to the bed and brushed a piece of hair out of her face, smiling like an idiot. I love this woman with my whole being.

“Scar,” I said softly. Put my hand on her shoulder and brushed along her arm. “Wake up baby,” I tried again then her eyebrows furrowed slightly before she let out a deep sigh. “It's morning already? We just went to sleep,” Scarlett murmured, her voice very deep and raspy. A smile pulled on my lips as she said those words, and even though she didn’t see me yet I nodded. “Yeah, it’s 10 actually. Slept well?” I asked but she still didn’t open her eyes. “Mhm,” Scar pulled the covers off herself a bit and turned to her back. I sat on the edge of the bed, putting a hand on Scarlett’s side to hold myself up. “Happy Birthday baby,” I leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Thank you,” her hand blindly found mine and placed it on her stomach as she kept her eyes closed. “I’ve made breakfast,” I said and she opened one eye, eyebrows furrowed. “Really?” I nodded to her question then she closed her eyes once again making me chuckle. “Get ready, and downstairs,” I left a kiss on her cheek before I got up. “You’re the best,” heard Scarlett say as I walked out of the room. “Just for you, love.”

I already started plating our food when I heard footsteps on the stairs. “Whatever you made, smells good,” Scarlett said as she entered the kitchen before I felt her arm being wrapped around my waist then a kiss on the side of my head. “Here,” I handed her a mimosa and grabbed one for myself. My free hand rested on her shoulder as she patiently waited for my next move. “I love you and I hope everything you wish for will come true. You’re amazing and I’m honored to spend this day with you. I love you. Happy birthday my love,” I said, short and sweet. Leaned in to give her a long kiss, purring all my love into it before Scarlett smiled into the kiss and we pulled away. “I love you and thank you. I wouldn’t want to spend this day with anyone else.”

We sat down at the table and had breakfast in peace. It was a lovely thing really. Very quiet music was playing from the radio in the kitchen and we had light conversations and just soaked in the moment. Scarlett praised my cook all along and I was just happy she liked it. I wanted her to know how much I appreciate and love her, and sometimes my only way with that is food.

“So, first gift, are you ready?” I asked once both of our plates were empty and we had time to relax. Her hand fell off my knee as I stood up and walked behind her to get the painting I made for her. “First? Baby, you really didn’t have to,” she insisted and I just shook my head as I pulled out the wrapped-up canvas. “I didn’t but I did at the same time.”

Got back to the kitchen and stood beside her as she now turned her chair outward and looked up at me. “Please tell me you painted something,” she said with a smile and I just checked before handing it over. “Well, open it,” I shrugged and stood behind her, putting my hands on her shoulders as she ripped the wrapping off then when she saw the popping colors she let out a relieved sigh. “Wow… this is beautiful. I’m still amazed that you can do things like this. Thank you,” she grabbed my hand and planted a kiss on the back of it. “You said you wanted something in the dining room, so I tried to make something that fits in there aesthetically.” “Yes, this is perfect. I love the peaches, it’s amazing.” “I’m glad you like it,” I gave a kiss on the top of her head. She slid the painting away carefully then looked up at me, and pulled me in front of her. “Honestly, I don’t even need anything else,” her smile was everything. Scarlett’s hands were on my thighs, running up and down my skin. “But you will, I thought out everything very well,” I said and she shook her head with a sigh before she pulled me down onto her lap. “I have everything I need right here,” she said gently, although a seductive smile pulled on her lips, and her hands slid up to my bum. I chuckled and shook my head lightly. “Is that a subtle hint for my ass or…” I let the end of the sentence linger and Scarlett just rolled her eyes then put a hand on the back of my head and pulled me down into a kiss.

Her touch was soft but her kiss was passionate and fierce. My hands quickly found their way to her shoulders, before one of them slid to the back of her head, my fingers tangling in her short hair. I pushed myself a little on my tippy toes, and slowly started to grind my hips, kissing her deeply. Scarlett hummed against my lips, her hands sliding around my waist, pushing me down on her lap.

My hands trailed down on her chest, fingers tangling in her hair as she whispered, "I want you." With a smirk, I whispered back, "For what, may I ask?" Scarlett’s eyes sparkled mischievously as she replied, "To make my birthday even sweeter."

I smiled, kissing her soft, plump lips once again. She did not waste any time to take my shirt off, letting it fall by her chair. Her hands eagerly explored every inch of my exposed skin, with her mouth following suit, leaving a trail of kisses and gentle bites.

My breath hitched as I arched into her touch, her fingers digging into my back. My boobs rose and fell with each ragged breath, my eyes darkening with desire as she placed one of my nipples between her lips, causing me to gasp and arch further into her.

Her hands explored every inch of my body, tracing every curve and dip until she reached my shorts, which she slowly slid down my legs along with my underwear. Allowing her, I lifted myself to help her remove them completely, revealing my naked body to her.

She watched the way the light of the room danced across my skin, highlighting every contour. With a soft moan, I reached for her, pulling her closer and pressing my lips against hers. My wetness was evident against her thigh as I pressed myself against Scarlett.

Her hands landed on my hips, pressing me down onto her thigh, allowing me to grind against her. My soft whimpers filled the room as I moved with increasing urgency, my body responding to her touch. As her hands moved my hips at a slow, agonizing pace, her lips sucked hungrily at my neck, leaving a trail of kisses down my collarbone.

"Please," I gasped, my voice barely above a whisper. "Faster."

She obliged, increasing the pressure and speed of her movements and feeling my body tremble in response. With each movement, her name became a desperate plea on my lips, my breath coming in short gasps as I surrendered to the pleasure she was giving me.

My nails dug into her back, my body arching in pleasure as I cried out her name in a mix of pleasure and desperation.

"You want to come, baby?'' Scarlett whispered in my ear, teasingly, as she felt my body shudder with anticipation. All I could give in response was a breathless nod, my eyes pleading for release as she continued to push me closer to the edge.

Her grip on me tightened, helping me speed up as I finally reached my peak, my body trembling in pure bliss as my eyes rolled back, lost in the overwhelming sensation of pleasure.

"You’re doing so good for me," she encouraged me softly, feeling a sense of satisfaction as I finally found release in her arms.

As I came down from my high, she held me close, kissing my forehead gently as I caught my breath. I stood up from her lap, my legs a little wobbly but I pulled her up from the chair and led her to the couch, pushing her down on her back.

“Your turn.” My hands explored her body as I sucked on her neck. She couldn't help but let out a soft moan of pleasure.

Pulling her underwear down, she lifted herself slightly to allow me access, eagerly anticipating the pleasure I was about to give her in return.

With each caress and kiss, I felt her surrendering completely to me. "Please, Y/n," she gasped. My fingers expertly found their way to where she needed them most, sending waves of pleasure through her body.

As I circled her clit with just the right amount of pressure, she arched her back in ecstasy, unable to contain the overwhelming sensations she was feeling.

“Baby, your fingers," she moaned, wanting them inside of her. My fingers slid inside her effortlessly, matching the rhythm of her body's response.

"You're so perfect," I whispered, my voice husky, nipping her jawline as I continued to please her. The combination of my words and touch drove her wild, pushing her closer to the edge of release.

Her walls clenched around my fingers, her breaths coming in short gasps as she surrendered to the intense pleasure building inside her. My skilled touch and whispered words sent her over the edge, her body trembling with the force of her climax.

As she collapsed back against the couch, panting, I couldn't help but marvel at how effortlessly beautiful Scarlett was.

"Come here baby," she whispered, pulling me into her arms and kissing me deeply. Straddling her, I smiled down at her, "I'm not done with you yet, love."

My swollen lips brushed against hers as I leaned in for another kiss, my hands already starting to explore her body once more. I moved her legs to allow my sensitive clit to meet hers, sending a surge of pleasure through both of us. The room filled with the sounds of heavy breathing and soft moans as we both lost ourselves in each other, completely consumed by desire.

"Baby, go faster," she gasped, unable to control the overwhelming sensations coursing through her body.

I picked up the pace, my movements becoming more urgent as we both raced towards ecstasy.

As the intensity grew, I felt a wave of euphoria building inside me, pushing me closer to the edge. Scarlett’s breath hitched as she matched my pace, her own pleasure evident in the way her body responded to mine.

With one final thrust, we both reached the peak of pleasure, exploding in a shared moment of pure bliss and our juices mingling in a beautiful, messy symphony. As I collapsed on top of Scarlett, the scent of sweat and sex lingered around us.

“Happy Birthday baby.”

****************************************************

Like by robertdowneyjr and 11 378 923 others

y/n_cole: happy birthday to my Scarly💐🌼 you’re the coolest and sweetest person ever, I love you lots✨❤️ thank god you didn’t get snapped away🕷️❤️

tchalamet not the Infinity War shade👀

y/n_cole it was a must!

florencepugh That cake! Iconic!🍒

y/n_cole I love to be appreciative😌

natasharomanoffsupremacy Y/n is just like us, a huge simp for Scarlett

****************************************************

Y/n’s painting for Scarlett

[captivatingcherub]

My 🤍Vanilla Scented🤍 Everything Shower

Hello, my dears! This is kind of a step-by-step guide/how to on my shower routine :) my favorite compliment to get is that I smell good and since doing this I get that at least once a day! My go to is Vanilla or Coconut scents! I usually do a combination of the two <3

1. Before your shower

I personally believe you have to set the vibes of your shower first, I don’t always listen to music while I shower, sometimes I just like to take that time to think, but if I do I set up my phone/speaker in the shower, make sure I have a towel to dry my hands if I need, and find a playlist!

I also love incense, candles, or essential oils while I’m showering! If I have a headache or I’m not feeling good I’ll use essential oils that target that kind of thing and I find the steam + oils really helps!

2. Shampoo

I like to go top to bottom when I shower! I find it makes me feel the cleanest! So step one is shampoo, I still have not found the perfect shampoo and conditioner for me yet (if anyone has any recommendations please lmk) I’m using the Tresseme Keratin one right now but I want to try more!

Double cleanse your hair!! After I shampoo and rinse the first time I go right back in and shampoo again! Some people use two different shampoos, I would like to do that but I haven’t found any I love enough yet. This makes your scalp so clean and my hair is on the thinner side and I find that this makes my hair look less weighed down after day 1!

3. Hair Mask (Twice a Week)

I use a bunch of different hair masks, usually for different things (damage repair, hydration, elasticity) but it’s totally up to you! I feel like hair masks are so treatment based you really have to find which one works for you and your hair type/hair needs.

Leave the mask in for 5-10 minutes, we’ll do the next couple steps with it sitting in your hair!

Tip: keep a claw clip or hair tie in the shower so you can keep your hair up while it absorbs the product!

*If you don’t use a hair mask put your conditioner in at this step and leave in to soak into your hair the same!*

4. Wash #1

Double cleansing is everything to me, when I tell you like two years ago I was trying everything to smell good, it’s embarrassing lol but I was struggling because I didn’t know what to do + I have rather sensitive skin that reacts to some products in a less than great way so I have found that double cleansing everything helps so much!

For this first wash I use an antibacterial bar soap! Specifically the Dial antibacterial one but you can use whatever you want, this came in a huge pack and I’m only like halfway through lol. I know people love Dove and I want to as well but as far as I know they’re big time Z**nists and I try to avoid!

So yeah, brand of soap doesn’t really matter to me as long as it’s an antibacterial one! That will get rid of the bacteria that produces BO

5. Shaving Time

I know not everyone shaves but I love have smooth legs so this is how I do it!

First, I’ll go in with a scrub! There are a few I like (Tree Hut has great ones and a million scents to choose, Bath and Body Works has some, they’re not my favorite but they work, I really like the OGX coconut coffee one, not expensive and smells great!)

Then, shaving cream! If I’m out of shaving cream I’ll use conditioner instead but you just want something to kinda lube up your legs before you shave lol. As for shaving creams I’m not too picky, I really like the EOS vanilla shaving cream and I’ll get that when I can but I don’t find that the smells sticks around from it so whatever shaving cream works best for you!

Finally, the shaving, I use a 3-5 blade razor, usually the generic brand from Target lol but I find they work really well and I hardly ever get cuts from them! Anything less than 3 blades I find myself getting nicked way more!

6. Conditioner!

So, after you shave, you wanna rinse the hair mask out completely and apply your conditioner! (I’ve been using the matching Tresseme Keratin conditioner but again I’m not obsessed with it)

*if you skipped the hair mask step you can either keep your conditioner in for longer or rinse it out at this step!*

I like to leave my conditioner soaking in my hair same as the mask making sure to get the ends of my hair really well!

7. Brush your Teeth

Some people think I’m crazy for this but I way prefer to brush my teeth in the shower, plus it gives me something to do while I wait for various hair products to soak in haha, idk if anyone cares about what I use but I use an electric toothbrush and usually Crest Whitening toothpaste!

I also do this every day, not just in the shower but scrape your tongue! It helps keep my mouth feeling clean and fresh all day I cannot recommend enough!

8. Rinse your Hair

Get all the conditioner out! It’s healthiest to rinse your hair in cold water and I really do feel a difference in the smoothness and moisture in my hair when I do but it’s hard lol so if you can do a cold rinse (or better yet rest of your shower) that would be best, I usually turn it to a lower warm and pretend it’s doing the same thing lol

9. Wash, wash, wash your face

Now that my hair is clean and all the product is out of it I move on to washing myself, you want to make sure you get all the product residue from your hair off of you! That’s a huge cause of body acne and irritated skin!

I wash my face first, I like the cleansers from The Ordinary and Good Molecules but keep in mind I don’t really struggle with acne, in fact I have pretty dry skin so I try to go for more moisturizing ones! What is good for my face might not be what you need :)

Oh what’s that? You thought we were done? Nope! Wash your face again! Double cleansing saves my skin but kills my wallet lol! I wear makeup and sunscreen and touch my face all day, I want to make sure I’m getting all of that off and then ALSO cleaning my skin underneath! It has made a huge difference in the way my skin both looks and feels!

10. Body Wash!

Last step! Grab your body wash of choice! I have been using Bath and Body Works Madagascar Vanilla scent but I like pretty much any vanilla scented body washes! Then, I take a loofah and scrub my whole body, making sure to get my back and legs because the run off from the conditioner isn’t good to leave on and will clog your pores!

11. Out of the Shower

Ok! Now that you’re all done in the shower I thought I’d tell you about my post shower smell good process because it’s just as important lol. I start with a body lotion (I use a matching Vanilla scent to my body wash) I hear putting body oil on first then lotion makes your skin super soft but I haven’t tried yet!

Anyways, put the lotion EVERYWHERE, arms, legs, chest, stomach, feet, get your whole body nice and smooth!

I use a body/hair mist, right now it’s the Tropical Vanilla one from Pacifica and I put that in my hair and all over the lotion while it absorbs!

Then for deodorant, literally the only one that works for me and doesn’t give me a rash is the Secret Clinical Gel, it smells like nothing, I wish I could use one that smells good but unfortunately my body hates them :/

Lastly! Purfume/purfume oil! My favorites are Sweet Cream and Fresh Cashmere by Philosophy and I’m using the Creamy Coconut perfume oil by Kuumba Made!

All done! Thank you so much for reading! I hope this helped or you at least found this fun! Have a good one <3

[possibilistfanfiction]

for surgeons AU could we get some early days, maybe first date or something? obsessed with your work as always

[s/o to everyone who asked for their first date, love u, crossposting this au to ao3 now too i guess lol!]

//

‘don’t laugh.’

‘i’m not.’ 

you glare. 

‘i swear, i’m not,’ she lies.

‘cam, you’re actively laughing. physically. audibly. at me.’

camila takes a deep breath and forces herself to frown. ‘okay. sorry. continue.’

‘bea is just — hot.’

you can tell that camila fights a grimace, which is fair, maybe, because she’s known beatrice for years through medical school. ‘she’s also very kind and understanding, if you wanted to, like, do something that would actually be fun for the both of you.’

‘hiking sounds fun.’

‘ava.’

it’s not all that often you feel the tightness in your chest that you remember from childhood: things are far less limited to you now. you have care you need, and your physical therapy and surgeries and medications are usually effective at letting you do whatever you want day-to-day. ‘just — don’t.’

camila sighs. ‘okay. but i promise bea wouldn’t think any less of you.’

you flop back on her sofa. ‘i know that, i really do. but it’s just so not sexy. and you know what is sexy? beatrice without a shirt on hiking ten miles, all sweaty and —‘

‘— it’s november, i’m pretty sure she’ll be wearing a shirt and a jacket —‘

‘— that’s not the point.’

camila loses her battle and does outright laugh at you now. ‘okay. well, to answer your question, you can borrow whatever of my gear you need, and i won’t tell bea.’

‘you’re a saint.’

/

to be fair, beatrice picks you up in her extremely clean subaru — you refrain from saying anything; it’s way too easy for it to actually be fun anyway — and offers you a breakfast sandwich and a coffee from, apparently, her favorite place near her house. it’s a cool, cloudy morning, typical november fair, and it’s still dark out, but you’re used to being up early or really at any time of day or night at this point. you’d done every spine decompression stretch you’ve ever learned in physical therapy, taken some ibuprofen, and truly have no plan other than hoping camila’s trekking poles — a very serious name for very fancy walking sticks — are enough to see you through.

beatrice, for her part, is clearly nervous, and it’s charming: she spends at least twenty minutes talking to you about all of the features of the hike and why it’s an ideal one for the two of you — ‘it’s moderate elevation gain up to the crest, about 2.5 miles, and, since it has southern exposure, we won’t get too much wind today.’ and, ‘if you want to keep going, it’s beautiful along the ridge, and there’s two mild peaks we could summit.’ and, ‘i’ve packed enough food and water for essentially however long we want to go; you can carry some if you’d like, if you didn’t pack much yourself.’ and, ‘anyway, the entire thing is wonderful and, in my experience, fairly empty, especially as it grows colder. but, just our luck: not much rain forecast for today.’ — and then asks, almost painfully awkward, about your last shift.

‘it was fine,’ you say, finishing your sandwich and making sure your trash is neatly packed up in the bag, with hers too. ‘but enough shop talk. i want to know about you.’

she blushes and you see, not for the first time but maybe in a way that’s more obvious than you have before, that beatrice is just a person after all, even if she’s unflappable at work. 

‘it’s okay,’ you say, so she doesn’t shut down or feel embarrassed. ‘i don’t mind shop talk, but i’m just — i’m glad to spend the time with you, away from work. plus you’re like a total enigma. very mysterious. it’s kind of hot.’

you haven’t said explicitly this is a first date, but you’ve been on lots of first dates and you’re fairly certain this is one. you’re definitely certain when she laughs, her shoulders loosening down her spine, away from her ears, and says, ‘only kind of?’

‘well, i wasn’t sure if we were just colleagues or just friends or whatever.’ 

‘or whatever?’

you groan. ‘you’re extremely hot, are you kidding? i think it’s affecting my residency, actually. i get distracted by your hands and then i lose the plot.’

she takes that in, maybe more than you had meant to say but who cares at this point; you’d gotten up at 5 am for her on your day off, so it’s fairly clear how you feel. ‘you’re quite distracting yourself, dr. silva.’

‘in a good or bad way? like, sexy or annoying?’

she rolls her eyes; you can tell, even if she’s still watching the road. ‘it depends. often both.’

you grin, lean back in the seat. ‘i contain multitudes, what can i say. triple threat.’

‘sexy, annoying, and… ?’

‘brilliant, obviously.’

‘oh yes, obviously.’ you pull into a deserted parking lot amidst a lush green forest and a heavy early morning fog; it’s beautiful, and you don’t ever regret that you ended up here, but you feel particularly grateful for it now. ‘you are brilliant, ava.’ it’s serious, the way she says it and the way she squeezes your hand, just once, before she gets out of the car with a soft smile. 

you watch her as subtly as you can as she puts on her gear, following suit as closely as you can without being too obvious about it. you know this is, objectively, really stupid and unnecessary, and jillian is probably spidey-senses yelling at you from somewhere in the world, but you have never wanted to impress someone so badly in your entire life. once beatrice is all ready to go, in her warm fleece quarterzip underneath a waterproof shell, a similar setup for her pants, her boots tied securely and her pack neatly zipped, poles ready at the correct height — so your elbows are at 90 degrees, camila had explained yesterday — and a beanie pulled down securely over her buzzed hair and ears.

‘the most important part for me,’ she says.

it takes you a second, but then you laugh. ‘you’re being funny.’

she makes sure her car is locked, zips the keys in a pocket inside her jacket, and then takes off down the trail. ‘i’ve been known to have a sense of humor from time to time.’

she’s not even walking that fast but it’s cold and jillian is mad at you all the time for how much you have to stand just for work, definitely without the however-many-long mile hike you’re about to go on. ‘the other interns are terrified of you, you know.’

beatrice turns toward you with a smirk. ‘and you’re not?’

‘well, i’ve seen you cry, once not even about a patient but about the fact that the coffee cart was out of earl grey tea.’

‘i hadn’t slept in thirty hours.’

you shrug — that’s probably true, but still — and bump her in the shoulder. ‘i like you,’ you tell her, honest, finally, amongst the moss and the ferns, the sun barely up, no one around to hear you. there’s a different kind of fear you feel when it comes to beatrice: not as dr. choi, indomitably talented and ruthlessly efficient resident, but as someone whose cologne you recognize, as someone who you want to make your grandma’s vatapáfor. ‘you’re kind to me.’

beatrice slows down for a moment — thank fucking god — and takes you in. you feel out of place often, and especially here, but the best thing about her is that, even if she senses it, she never faults you. ’that’s what you deserve.’ and then, ‘i hope i am. i want to be.’

you don’t know much about her, really: you know that she went to boarding school at 14 and had been at the top of her class at the best schools and programs in the world ever since; that she loves to be in nature and has known lilith for forever; that her accent loosens, just slightly, when she’s especially excited or especially exhausted. she likes otters, you’ve gathered, from a little pin on her coat, and she wants to go into cardio because it’s endlessly fascinating to her, and impossible, and miraculous. she runs so much admin for the free gender affirming surgery clinic even though it’s not her speciality and she certainly doesn’t have to; she learned asl last year, in addition to a host of other languages she speaks, to better communicate with patients and colleagues. you think, of anyone in your program, maybe of anyone at the hospital entirely, she’s chief superion’s favorite.

there are so many things you want to learn about her: what makes her scared and who she let take care of her after she had top surgery and what her favorite song is and what book made her cry as a child and if she likes comedies or is more of a drama kind of girl. you want, you can admit to yourself, to know everything about her in a way you’ve never quite wanted anything before.

‘you’re the best person i know.’ you’re worried it’s too much before she smiles — not at you, too shy, but you catch it anyway before she looks away.

‘that’s generous.’ 

‘still, true.’

she worries her lip before saying, ‘i am, technically, your boss.’

‘barely.’

‘ava.’

‘hmm. not dr. silva? doesn’t sound very position of power to me.’

‘i — i like you too.’ you watch her push her poles into the soft ground a little harder, like her whole body is fighting — to say what she means, or to not say it, you’re not sure. 

you’ve had crossroads in your life before, most of them really fucking horrible — until they weren’t, until the world stretched out before you and opened up before you. you’ve talked over and over about this with jillian and the therapist she made sure you went to before you consented to any truly dangerous and experimental procedures or injections: disability was limiting, sure, but the real harm was done by the lack of care afforded you, not your lack of movement. you work so, so hard to believe it on good days; it’s nearly impossible on the worst.

but this is the best day, you decide. camila is right: beatrice is kind and caring and brave in ways you know; in ways you have yet to find out. 

you’ve made it maybe half a mile into the hike but your back is aching, left foot going numb already, your right hand clenched too tight around the handle of the pole, so much so that even the soft cork of it hurts. so, instead of moving and moving and moving like you always do, like you have since the moment you could close your hands into fists so tight you swore you’d never let the world go: you stop.

bea takes a few more steps and then notices; she turns around and looks at you curiously.

‘sorry,’ you say, impulse and fear and habit, then shake your head. ‘actually, uh. i’m not? yeah, i’m not.’

she stands steady, unfazed by that. ‘okay.’

‘uh, well. i like you too. i already said that, but i really like you. i don’t — god, this sounds so stupid. but i don’t want to be your intern.’

the small, amused smile on beatrice’s face makes you feel better. ‘am i not a good teacher?’

‘i think there are lots of other things i would enjoy you teaching me.’ you close your eyes for a moment as she laughs, trying to regroup. ‘okay, i am sorry for that one.’

‘don’t be. i quite enjoyed it.’

‘before — before we tell chief superion anything, if you wanted to try, just — you should know that i shouldn’t have said yes to going on this hike.’

beatrice’s brow knits together, so immediately concerned you reach for her hand. 

‘not because — it’s beautiful,’ you say. ‘you’re beautiful, and i’m so happy you asked me.’

she doesn’t look any less worried, which is fair.

‘i have a spinal cord injury,’ you say, and her face softens into something you’re terrified of for a moment, until you realize it’s only patience, only an opening for understanding — not pity, and certainly not anything close to contempt.

‘okay,’ she says, calmly and as kind as ever.

stupid, annoying tears burn at your eyes. ‘i just — you love hiking, and you asked and planned so nicely, and you wanted to share this special thing with me, and —‘

‘ava,’ she says, then brings her thumbs to wipe your cheeks with a gentle smile. ‘i just wanted to spend time with you. you’re right, i enjoy hiking, but i also enjoy lots of other things. things that i would also want to share with you.’

‘i should be using a cane at work,’ you admit, in the middle of this beautiful forest where no one but her can hear you. ‘i haven’t been because i didn’t, i don’t —‘

‘— while i think it’s wise you’re moved off my service,’ she says, ‘i will burn down that entire hospital if anyone looks down on you for that.’

‘that seems counterintuitive to do no harm.’ the way you say it is wobbly and your nose is full of snot and it’s kind of all so terrible, but then you catch up: ‘you don’t want me on your service?’

beatrice steadies herself. ‘i want to kiss you.’

‘even after —‘

‘ava, listen. i want to kiss you.’

‘yeah,’ you say, and lean forward.

it feels like your entire body lights up, even though it aches in the damp cold — golden light everywhere. 

/

you laugh a little afterward, then beatrice smiles and takes off back toward her car without any complaints. 

‘it’s still rather early,’ she says as you go on your way, ‘and we’re only about twenty minutes from the car.’

you grimace. ‘yeah, sorry.’

she shakes her head. ‘there are undoubtedly so many things you need to apologize for daily, ava —‘

‘— hey —‘

‘— but this is not one of them.’

‘fine,’ you huff.

she’s unfazed. ‘i was going to ask if perhaps you wanted to come over to my place. among other things i like in addition to hiking, i do like to catch up on rest as well. and then perhaps lunch? there’s a spot near me that has wonderful oysters.’

‘a nap? in your sexy house? lunch? with your sexy face?’

she ignores most of it: ‘it’s a rather normal house.’

‘i bet it’s sexy. lilith told me you were rich.’

beatrice grimaces.

‘it’s okay. like, really. i just bet you’re, like, the kind of person who has bespoke everything, aren’t you?’

‘no,’ she says, but she’s blushing and looking away from you.

‘you know, you’ve got a terrible poker face.’

‘only when it comes to you, i’m afraid.’

‘ah, what a terrible fate.’

‘the worst,’ she agrees, shaking her head with a smile. ‘it’s got a good view, i will say.’

‘well, lead the way then.’

‘ava, we’re just walking back to the car.’

you roll your eyes. ‘you know what i mean.’

/

beatrice’s house is beautiful, perched on a hill with giant windows overlooking the sound and the olympics. she laughs — not unkindly — when you admit that all of your hiking gear is actually camila’s, says, ‘i thought that pack looked familiar,’ and then lends you a hoodie and some comfortable running shorts to change into. you don’t ask her so many things brimming inside of you; she doesn’t ask you either, although you’re sure she — as bea and as dr. choi — has a billion questions. you’ll ask and answer everything in due time. 

for today, you bully her — with far too little bullying involved to make her argument of i’ve never seen it before and i don’t waste my time on shows like this — to start binging season 4 of real housewives of salt lake city; even less convincing when she knows all about jen’s escapades last season and then clamps her mouth shut when you laugh into her shoulder.

‘it’s compelling, fine,’ she says with a very dramatic pout, and you’re kissing it off her face before you can think twice.

she smiles into it, your nerves dissipating, and it’s good, and right, and safe. you eventually kiss her cheek and run a hand over the soft bristles of her hair — which you’ve been dying to do — while she smiles and then settle into her side. 

‘thank you.’

she lets out a big breath, peaceful under the blanket, thick socks on your feet, cold rain outside but only warmth in this house with you in it. ‘no, ava. thank you.’

[kiss-inthekitchen]

sacrosanct

You have a nightmare. Damon is there to wake you up.

damon salvatore x reader, 2.2k words, hurt/comfort

i had 'this is how you fall in love' by jeremy zucker on repeat while i wrote this, if you like to listen while you read

sacrosanct as in protected, sacred, hallowed. regarded as too important or valuable to be interfered with.

“Mom, please. Let’s just go, okay?”

You throw the words over your shoulder, unceremoniously grabbing items from your dresser and tossing them in your duffel. You don’t know how long you’ve been doing this for. You can feel her presence in the door frame. You want to turn around and see her, but you can’t. You just keep reaching for things, shoving them in the bag, reaching again with unfeeling fingers. Somehow you haven’t filled the bag yet.

“It’s not safe here, you need to start packing–” Why was she just standing there? Why couldn’t you see her?

Suddenly the duffel is gone along with the four walls of your bedroom. You’re in the town square, the Mystic Grill a few dozen yards away. 

“Mom?” 

You can see her now. Your mom is facing away from you, a little ways down the road. It takes you too long to get to where she is– you will yourself to go faster, but you can’t feel your legs move. “Mom,” you stress, reaching out to her. 

She turns, and you see her face, finally. She gives you a sad little smile, an expression you’ve never seen on her before. “We’re not going anywhere, honey. You’re exactly where you should be.” 

Your surroundings change again. Your mom disappears, faded to black along with the Grill and the trees and the sunlight. On some base level you know you’re in your bed at home, but you can’t see anything. The darkness is suffocating. On instinct you want to call out for someone, but you know no one is there. You’re alone. 

“Sweetheart, hey, wake up,” a tense whisper cuts through the deep fog of your subconscious, two strong hands around your shoulders lifting you from the depths. 

Your eyes squint open in the half-lit room, uncomprehending. Where are you? This isn’t your room. How did you get here? 

“Come back to me,” he encourages, sitting on the edge of the bed, his body twisted toward you. A sliver of relief edges into his tone when he sees your eyes open fully. “There you go, good girl.” 

You flinch away from Damon, still only half conscious. Your eyes flit around the room briefly, so different from your own. Nothing is where you expected it to be. 

“You’re at the Salvatore house,” he says, answering your unspoken question. 

“Why?” you ask, pressing your palms into your eyes for a moment. Your hands come away wet. 

The look in Damon’s eyes shifts, becoming something round and soft and almost dreading. It confuses you further, this pain coming from him. But it also wakes you up, finally and forcefully thrusting you back to reality. And then you remember.

“Nevermind, I know. I’m uh– I’m awake now. Sorry.” He didn’t want to have to tell you, you realize. You can’t blame him. You don’t want to hear it said, either. 

“You don’t have to apologize–” 

“Damon, it’s bad enough I moved into your house,” you sigh, slumping against the headboard. “I don’t mean to make you take care of me, too.” 

His hands, which had fallen from your shoulders when you’d jerked away, come up to your cheeks, thumbs softly swiping away the tears that continued to roll down your cheeks. You hadn’t noticed them. 

“Somebody should.” 

Bitterness rolls through you. He’s right. Somebody should. 

You take a deep, settling breath, and Damon seems to feel it, too. His hands are still holding your face, a tingling warmth blooming from where his skin touches yours. Unthinkingly, your own hands come up to cover his, curling around his wrists. His skin is so soft for all the things his hands have done. 

His eyes seem to be searching yours, for what, you aren’t sure. The pale green mesmerizes you. You’ve often thought of a perfect word to describe the color, the opacity of it. The only one you could ever come up with is moonstone. You don’t think he’d like that. Too many unpleasant associations. 

He’s still searching. Waiting for an answer to a question he hasn’t asked. You don’t care about that anymore. He’s here, his pulse strong and steady beneath your fingers. He’s here. 

“I think your house is haunted,” you whisper instead. 

“A lot of people have died in it,” he agrees, scrunching his nose up. That summons a breathy little laugh from you, and god if that isn’t the best thing he’s ever been responsible for. “I think you should sleep in my bed.” He doesn’t choose to say the words so much as they free themselves from him, a spark of surprise lighting his expression.   

“Damon…” 

You’re frowning again. That little crease between your eyebrows always so quick to appear, Damon thinks. He looses his hands from your face. You don’t let go; your joined hands come to rest on the sheets between you. 

“That’s not me trying to take care of you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he speaks in his usual teasing tone, despite the weight of his gaze a minute ago. “I wouldn’t dream of that.” 

Your eyes narrow at him in mock suspicion. “No? Why are you up, anyway?” 

“It’s like you said,” he shrugs. “House’s haunted.” 

Your lips tug up into a half-smile despite yourself. “Hmm,” you pretend to weigh your options. You don’t think you’ll be able to fall asleep in here again, and you don’t want to think about what dreams might visit you if you do. “Will you fast-run me there?” you acquiesce, already reaching for him, lightly crossing your wrists behind his neck. 

The way his eyes light up, still subtle in his own Damon way, has you wanting to say yes to any request he could possibly ever have for you. “Yeah, I’ll fast-run you there,” he repeats your made up term. 

He gently lifts your body from the guest bed, untangling the sheets from around you. Less than two seconds later you’re being placed in another bed, clear across the east wing, completely breathless. 

Your voice comes out more like a gasp than anything else. “Thanks.” 

He slides under the covers with you, lying on his back with one arm behind his head as he leans back against the headboard. His other arm wraps around you, maneuvering your body to curl into his before you can overthink your way onto the opposite edge of his California king. He knows you too well, you think to yourself. 

Your tears have dried now. You sink gratefully against Damon’s chest, the soft fabric of his undoubtedly too-expensive t-shirt. Your shoulders are a little stiff– you’ve never done this with Damon before. You’re not entirely sure what it means.

You’d been out of it lately. Trying to get used to your new normal. Trying to learn all the ins and outs of the Salvatore house without leaving a mark– the uneasy feeling of being a guest in someone else’s home, of wanting to leave everything looking as if you’d never been there at all. 

Neither Damon nor Stefan liked this. They’d each told you as much, Stefan in his usual kind and understanding way, while Damon just told you to “settle in, kid. Your tiptoeing is getting on my nerves. No one’s gonna throw a fit over you putting a frying pan in the wrong drawer.” 

Not that it made any difference. You thought about how you would feel if someone had moved into your house indefinitely, going through your things, altering your routine. You refused to believe that the boys could remain truly unbothered by their new unexpected roommate. 

How was this your life? That the only two people in the world left to care for you were the Salvatore brothers? Somewhere in your mind you knew that wasn’t true; you had Bonnie, Caroline, Elena. Though they’d all moved on to Whitmore around the same time you’d moved in here, so you didn’t see as much of them. Still, you knew they were your family. The Salvatores just had the most space, the most resources with which to protect you. 

But they weren’t the ones who were supposed to do this– that person had left you to fend for yourself.  

Unbeknownst to you, Damon had actually insisted on this arrangement. Caroline had been all too excited to move you into her dorm at Whitmore, but Damon wouldn’t have it. You’d planned to take a gap year, not so intent on rushing into a ‘normal college experience’ as your other friends. You weren’t enrolled in classes, you’d be alone all day and probably end up feeling worse. That had been Damon’s argument to Caroline, anyway. He’d left out the part about what it would’ve done to him to let you out of his sight. 

You sigh, feeling your body start to relax. Damon calms you just by being there, the steady rhythm of his exhales as they brush past you, the solid presence of his body where it’s pressed to yours. You’re almost grateful for the circumstances that have led you to his bed, a feeling that seems so utterly wrong and confusing to you that you want to shy away from it. 

“I can’t believe she left,” you say quietly.

His eyes flash with anger where you can’t see them. He squeezes you tighter, and when he speaks, his words carry a weight you don’t yet understand. “Neither can I.” 

“I could’ve stayed in my house, you know.” You imagine the tail end of your nightmare being real, you waking up alone in your darkened bedroom instead of here with Damon. You have to suppress a shudder. 

“You kidding?” he scoffs. “You couldn’t have stayed there alone.” 

“I’m an adult, Damon. I could’ve handled it.” Your words are unconvincing. You’re not sure why you’re arguing with him, anyway. 

“First of all, this is Mystic Falls, so it doesn’t matter how old you are, you shouldn’t be without protection. Secondly, just because you could’ve handled it, doesn’t mean you should have to.” 

Your heart thuds at his defense of you. Too often you expect Damon to grow tired of you, your human fragility, the extra work he has to do to keep you safe. But he never does. 

“Going soft on me, Salvatore,” you say through a smile. He exhales a little more forcefully, almost a chuckle, and you know he’s about to make some vulgar quip. You cut him off before he can start. “It is nice to be a homeowner, though.” 

They’d signed the deed over to you first thing. The first in a long line of changes they’d had to make for the sake of your safety. 

“Hm,” he hums. “I’ve been meaning to thank you for inviting me in.” 

“Finally. You’ve kept me waiting weeks for that one. I thought you were a gentleman.” 

“Now what gave you that idea?” 

You laugh, again because of him, and he feels warmth spread through his body at the sound. 

“I’ve been thinking of renovating,” you continue. You don’t want to fall asleep again, for multiple reasons now. 

“As long as you leave my room out of it.” 

“Really? That’s your only stipulation?” you raise an eyebrow, tilting your chin up to look at him. “What if I made everything baby pink?” 

He raises an amused brow back at you. “I like pink.” 

“Since when?” 

“Since you wore that sweater. The little,” he gestures over his stomach, “Cropped one.” 

Your heart beats faster, louder. You know he can hear it. 

Your cheeks warm, but he doesn’t call you on it. “Well… What if I made everything modern?” 

He gasps. “You wouldn’t.” 

“I’d have to refinish all the wood surfaces, of course. Sleek edges. Definitely some changes to the lighting fixtures.” 

“You couldn’t. You may have the house, but the fortune’s still mine.” 

“Maybe I just wanted to hear you say ‘you have the house’ again.” 

Damon’s all too happy to hear you joking around about this, remembering what a struggle it was to get you to sign the papers. He wants to give you more than this. He imagines a time, further down the road, when you’ll let him. 

“Mmhm. It’s your world, I’m just livin’ in it.” 

You slip into an easy silence then. Damon takes up tracing his fingers up and down your back. You shiver when he first does it, and then you relax more fully than you have in… well, you’re not sure how long. Your lids feel heavier. Part of you still wants to stay awake, but you don’t fear falling asleep anymore. 

“Damon?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

His eyes open, fixed on the ceiling above. “Sure,” he says into the darkened room. 

“Will you be here when I wake up?” 

“Where else would I go?” As the words leave his mouth he realizes how much he believes them; anyplace without you is not a place he wants to be. He has the wherewithal to realize that that should scare him, that it absolutely would have before. It doesn’t now. 

“I dunno, maybe you have someone to murder or extort or something.” 

A surprised, amused sound escapes him. “I’ll wait til after you wake up to get to the murder and extortion part of my day.” 

“Mmkay,” you sigh, pleased. “Thanks.” 

He turns his body to face yours, one hand pushing the hair back from your face and resting just above your ear. His lips are millimeters from your forehead, so you can feel it when he says, “You’re a complete weirdo, you know that?” 

You grin, eyes still closed. “No name calling in my house.”

[zoomimal]

In your opinion what are the most important areas F1 needs to work on to be more inclusive to omega drivers? ~ Luci

Ah a very serious matter, and one I am passionate about.

First off, I believe stewards and FiA officials should receive training in reading omega body language and how to properly accommodate non-disruptive behaviors. Currently the only training they receive of this sort is for conflict de-escalation between alphas (and the fact that alpha ‘accommodations’ are focused almost solely on their potential for aggression is a whole other rant I could go on but will not here). Better awareness of omega non-verbal cues is badly needed, and we got yet another clear demonstration of this after quali in Jeddah. As you yourself said, it was incredibly distressing to witness Charles being dragged away from Max like that, and all for what? To make sure the schedule was adhered to? To keep up the laughable facade that Max and Charles aren’t bonded just because they haven’t spelled it out on instagram yet? Charles was clearly so upset by it, and Max was visibly distressed about it too! Yet the official seemed to have no concept at all of what he was doing beyond ‘come on silly omega, you’re holding things up and need to be elsewhere’.

This actually brings me to my next point - the blanket ban on publicly visible scenting in the paddock is atrocious, explicitly anti-omega, and should be done away with.

As we all know, scenting, especially casual light scenting, is such an integral part of omega social interaction, hormonal/instinct regulation, and emotional well-being. (It is of course important for alphas too, but again, that’s another discussion). Using this latest incident with Charles as an example again, both he and his bonded mate had just performed incredibly well in front of thousands of people, of *course* he would be keyed up and his instincts would be screaming at him to reenforce their bond after that. Just a light scenting to calm his instincts and Charles would have been settled and ready to move on to the next thing, but because of the ban he couldn’t do that and instead had to resort to more extended proximity and eye-contact to settle himself enough to comfortably leave Max’s side (which then of course also got interrupted because anti-omega bias is systemic in F1 just like it is in many other settings)

Yes I do acknowledge that there have been instances in the past of scenting being arguably taken too far for a professional setting, but anything that crossed the line could be covered just fine under the injunctions against disruptive behaviors. Even in countries with strict ‘decency laws’ the FiA could, if they cared to, easily provide a space for omega drivers to step aside for a moment to quickly and discreetly scent with a mate or pack member as needed. (And before the ‘Alpha Rights’ crowd starts whingeing about this being somehow unfair - yes of course this should be available for alphas to use as well if they want to!)

I have even more thoughts (like how the restrictions on nesting in drivers rooms in the name of ‘professionalism and preventing unfair advantage’ are both infuriating and archaic), but this answer is already fairly long so I’ll leave it off here for now.

( @charles-leclerc-official I finally finished answering your ask! XD)

[yuckydraws]

A lil oneshot that I'm thinking might become the start of an ongoing fic? We'll see.

Pairing: (HT Sans/reader) with hints of (UT Papyrus/reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Build Up My Heart

It’s fucking hot.

You wipe the sweat off your brow and sigh, looking at all the work you and your team accomplished today. You’ve finally finished the framing for the guest house this family of… rather odd skeletons, have hired you to build. And you understand why.

This already large, cabin-like home is practically overflowing with them.

In your time here, you’ve counted at least twelve.

Twelve people. In one home that, yes, is large, but can’t hold more than maybe five or six bedrooms. 

It’s a wonder they haven’t ripped each other’s heads off - you’ve overheard a fight or two when you’ve taken your lunch on the lawn… and man do some of them argue.

When you first started working here, you swore you were going crazy. Almost every time you saw one of them it was one you’ve never seen/met before. Yet they all seem to look alike in some way, though you’ve kept that to yourself. Maybe that’s just how it is for skeleton monsters, who are you to say something ignorant like that?

Sans and Papyrus, the two skeletons you’ve spoken with the most, have been patient with every setback this project has had, though you can almost see the exhaustion in their sockets every time they pop over to talk progress. Makes you wonder if they’re the “peacekeepers” of the home.

But, then again, you suppose you shouldn’t be wondering too much. You’re just here to work, get the job done, and eventually move on to the next. Which will likely be another cookie cutter house in a subdivision.

… you’ll admit, though, that you’re going to miss seeing some of the wacky things they do.

And seeing that absolutely gorgeous garden of theirs.

It’s basically your dream. It packs an impressive variety of fruits and vegetables all neatly growing in raised garden beds. Marigolds are scattered about, likely to keep pests away, and there’s much more flowers where that came from - all of which look happy and content if their blooms are anything to go by. Whoever planned the garden, took convenience into account as well. An array of herbs grow right behind the decorative arch to the entrance of the garden. Just in case anyone just needs to grab a quick little something for a recipe.

Stars, you’d love to trade your apartment windowsill, grown out of an old milk jug, herbs for a lovely stroll to this garden. Who wouldn’t?

It also has a line of fruit trees lining the north side of the garden, likely so as not to block the sunshine. Whether those were here when they purchased the land and they planned the garden around it, or not, you wouldn’t doubt that whoever planned this garden would have the foresight for that. 

Currently, ripe peaches hang from one tree, and apple blossoms grow on another. Makes you wonder what the other two trees produce, but they must not be in season at the moment with their bareness. 

As if all that wasn’t enough, they also topped off this garden with strewn lights, stone pathways, and goofy gnomes.

A garden like this looks like a full time job, yet you’ve never seen who tends to it. You’ve seen some of the household members pick from it, but never who makes sure the weeds stay away, or who manages the more sensitive plants.

You wonder who it is.

“Hey, didn’t ya hear?” A voice calls you from your thoughts. You pry your gaze away from the garden and meet your coworker’s gaze. “It’s quittin’ time.”

“Yeah, I heard.” You confirm, slipping your gloves off. Not that those gloves protect your hands from the rough calluses littering your palms, but they do help them feel less sore at the end of the day. “The boss wants me to meet with those skeletons to go over the next step.” You thank whatever is up there that you actually have an excuse for your daydreaming this time.

“Right, I forgot that you’re a bigwig supervisor now.” He teases. You roll your eyes, that title hardly means anything yet. “Well, we’re all meetin’ at Al’s for drinks, if ya wanna join later.”

You would rather not.

“We’ll see, thanks Ron.” You neither accept nor decline. He gives somewhat of a salute before slipping away with the rest of the bunch.

Slipping your hardhat off, you await the arrival of your boss, scrolling on your phone in the meantime. It’s not long until you hear the rumble of his truck pulling up, and you quickly pocket the device in your hands. 

Out hops Ted, clipboard in hand and that aggravating smile on his face.

He’s nice enough, but something about him has always felt a little fake. However, playing nice with the boss was what got you this promotion, so you’re not about to jeopardize that now. Waving you over, he greets the skeleton brothers who approach him rather quickly. Must have been waiting just like you. Eager wouldn’t begin to explain how much they want this project to move along.

You catch the tail end of greetings, shaking both Sans and Papyrus’ hands as you’re formally introduced (though, you’ve already had multiple conversations with them while working). Your boss cracks some jokes that you half laugh along to, before he finally gets down to business. Listening intently, and chiming in when necessary, you learn what you already knew. Plumbing, HVAC, electrical, etc. needs to happen before you and your team can continue. It’ll be contracted out, yadda yadda yadda.

Just as you’re beginning to think you have no reason to be a part of this conversation, it’s… over. Yeah that was a waste of a half hour, though you suppose you may be giving clients this talk at some point so it’s likely important to hear.

Ted wraps things up, shakes their hands again, and takes his leave. Sans slips away after that, claiming that he has something that he needs to get back to. You almost follow and take your leave as well, but Papyrus, who’s always been more social, gets you pausing.

“WELL, HUMAN, I SUPPOSE WE WON’T BE SEEING YOU FOR A LITTLE BIT.” He says. You’ve long since gotten used to his loud voice. You smile.

“Gonna miss me that bad?” You tease. Oddly enough, a light flush of orange rises to his cheekbones. Interesting

“W-Well… I ALWAYS ENJOY OUR TALKS WHEN I BRING OUT WATER.” He blurts. Ah, yes, the water. Ultimately unneeded, but very much appreciated.

“It’ll be a few weeks, at most.” You remind him. He beams at that.

“YES, I SUPPOSE YOU’RE RIGHT.” He agrees. It warms your heart that he seems to care even that much. It’s not often homeowners even talk to you and your crew, let alone be as kind as Papyrus has been. “WELL, YOU’VE HAD A LONG DAY, I WON’T KEEP YOU.”

You check your watch and wince.

“Yeahhh… I still got to run to the store to get some tomatoes for this recipe I’m making, so I should-”

“WE HAVE TOMATOES!” Papyrus all but blurts. You blink up at him. That orange flush is back.

Huh.

“We U-Uh… WE HAVE THAT GARDEN, I’M SURE YOU’VE SEEN IT!” You tilt your head at his words, not wanting to assume where he’s going with this - he is a client after all. “WE HAVE PLENTY, YOU SHOULD PICK SOME AND SAVE YOURSELF A TRIP.”

At any other jobsite, you’d have quickly refused… but something about his hopeful smile and genuinity of the offer has you softening like butter. Plus… you’d get to see that beautiful garden up close.

“You sure? I don’t want to overstep…”

“POSITIVE! I THINK BEAR IS IN THE GARDEN RIGHT NOW, HE COULD SHOW YOU WHERE THEY’RE PLANTED!” 

“Bear?” You ask, wracking your brain for which skeleton he’s referring to. You haven’t been introduced to many of them.

“YOU HAVEN’T MET HIM.” Papyrus says with absolute certainty. “HE AVOIDS TENDING TO IT WHEN YOU GUYS ARE HERE WORKING.”

Oh.

“Well, are you sure he’ll want me wandering in there, then?”

“OH, I’M SURE HE’LL BE ALRIGHT WITH IT, HE JUST… HAS TROUBLE SOCIALLY. HE’S NICE, THOUGH.”

You hesitate. This Bear obviously enjoys gardening in the peace and quiet, who are you to interrupt that? However… it’s nearing 7pm and you’re ravenous. A trip to the store sounds like torture. 

As if sensing your dilemma, Papyrus pivots, placing a hand on your shoulder and urges you back around the house. “I’LL GO WITH YOU, TO ASSURE YOU ALL IS WELL.” You just nod and follow along, both because it feels like nothing you do will change his mind, and because of your selfish desire to just get done with this day sooner.

Your workboots sink into the plush clover lawn as you both make your way across the backyard to the garden. Your eyes are captured once again, by said garden, and you almost don’t notice the rather large skeleton tending to the flowerbeds in towards the front until Papyrus speaks from across the short fencing.

“BEAR, IS IT ALRIGHT IF MY FRIEND HERE PICKS SOME TOMATOES?”

You look to where Papyrus is speaking, and the first thing you see is the gaping hole in this skeleton’s head.

Holyfuckisheokay?? How-

You look to Papyrus in concern, but see him just… smiling down at you? Confused, you look back to this skeleton, crouched behind a garden bed and lock eyes (eye?) with the bloated, bright red eye-light filling the socket that isn’t scarred from his head wound. You… can’t tell what he’s thinking, with that blank expression of his.

But seeing as this is apparently normal for him, you’re now worried you’ve offended the guy.

Maybe magic helps monsters survive the seemingly unsurvivable? It’s not like he has any internal organs in his skull… maybe that’s why-

You’re pulled from your thoughts as this apparent behemoth stands up.

Oh.

Oh my.

You’re beginning to understand why he’s called ‘Bear’. He’s certainly a bear in every sense of the word. Large, imposing, intimidating… and did you mention huge?? Now, you aren’t small. You’ve kept up in construction for almost a decade now and it shows… but you still feel like a twig, craning your neck to look up at him.

However, the dirt covered overalls he’s wearing, definitely takes away from some of his initial intimidating demeanor.

“... sure.” He rumbles, blank expression still giving no clue to where his mind is.

Holy fucking baritone-

Papyrus pats you on the back and beams at Bear.

“THANK YOU! I’M GOING TO START ON DINNER, OKAY?” You numbly nod, trying to force your thoughts away from where they want to go. “SEE YOU IN A FEW WEEKS, HUMAN!” Tearing your eyes away from Bear, you wave back to Papyrus and watch him retreat into the home. You wait until he’s inside to take in what you hope is a subtle deep breath.

You about leap into the air, when you turn around and find Bear right behind you, at the entrance of the garden. Clutching your chest, you remind yourself to relax. How’d he get there? And so quietly, too…

And you swear you see this giant quirk the smallest of smiles at your jumpiness. 

He thinks he’s funny, huh? Asshole.

You stare up at him, flushing and definitely not pouting. “Ah, uh, thanks for letting me steal some tomatoes, you’re saving me a trip to the store.” You decide to be polite. After all, you were the one to gawk first, perhaps you deserved a bit of payback.

He just grunts.

And you both just… stand there. After a few moments of silence, you speak up.

“So… where are they?” You inquire, glancing around at what you can see of the garden, but it’s hard when you have a seven foot wall of solid skele-man right in front of you. 

“where are… what?” He asks.

You tilt your head. He just said…

“The tomatoes?” You try, maybe he spaced out when Papyrus asked him if it was okay… and when you just mentioned them a second ago?

He seems to recall something, if the twitch of his bone brows are to say much. Nodding, he turns and lumbers through the rows of flowerbeds. Assuming that’s an invitation for you to follow, you rush to fall into step behind him and his large strides… but, you quickly fall behind as you start to admire the garden’s beauty up close. Your steps slow as you stroll past the growing cauliflower plants. These can be incredibly hard to grow… how did he…?

You gingerly touch one of the leaves, and look up to Bear, who’s stopped and turned to look at what’s keeping you.

“How do you get these to grow so well?” You ask, smiling excitedly at him. He blinks, large shoulders relaxing a bit, as if he was expecting you to ask something else.

He reaches into his overall pocket, and slips out what looks like a very well-loved notebook. You watch curiously, but patiently as he opens it and flips through it. You’re unsure what the notebook has to do with his answer but you’re willing to wait and find out.

He pauses on a page and looks back to you, seeming to ponder something before deciding ‘fuck it’, as he approaches you and hands the book to you. It’s got various dirt stains, and some pages have been taped back in where they’ve come loose, so you treat it with care as you take it from his grasp. And there, on the page you see notes in small, neat handwriting. Research notes, with drawings and everything. The topic being the little cauliflower plant you’re standing next to.

Some of it seems to just be information taken from the internet and put in short form, while others seems to be from actual trial and error. You skim his writing, noticing that he’s scratched some things out but towards the end, he seems to have figured out the perfect schedule for the plant to thrive.

You’re tempted to flip through the book and read more, but you refrain. That seems like an invasion of privacy.

“Wow, that’s really cool that you go as far to take all these notes. You must really enjoy this, huh?” You ask, handing it back to him. He stares at it in his hands for a moment, before putting it back in his pocket.

He just nods.

“Not much of a talker?” You tease lightheartedly, trying to see if you can get any sort of… anything out of this guy other than blank staring and slightly intimidating silence.

He shrugs, and turns back around, leading you again.

But you’re not done.

“You’ve really built something beautiful here, ya know?” You continue. He just keeps walking. “This is amazing! It could almost be considered a small farm! Though, I guess with all your housemates to feed, it’s just a garden, huh?”

Still no answer, but you swear he starts walking a little faster if the way you have to almost jog to keep up is anything to go by.

“The flowers too? Man, this must be a full time job that, I’ll be honest, I’m a little jealous of! I’d be in here all day if I was able to! This is absolutely gorgeous, Bear! Do you take care of this all by yourself? You really have a talent, I hope you know that.”

Suddenly Bear stops, leaving you to walk right into his back… which given his height means you faceplant right into his spine. He barely budges, yet the force of it knocks you on your butt. You grunt and rub at your smarting nose. Damn, this dude is solid.

His red light stares down at you, from the corner of his good socket. He doesn’t apologize, or offer you a hand, just simply points to the tomato plant in front of him.

“... tomato.” He mutters, then takes his leave, stepping over your sprawled legs and heading back to the flower bed he was working on.

… huh, you could’ve sworn, you saw the faintest hints of blue on his cheekbones.

Chuckling to yourself, and once again, thinking that these skeletons are silly, you pick yourself up and dust off your pants. Not that. You really need to dust off your already dirty work clothes, but it feels right.

You lean over the tomato plants in question, finding quite a little variety in the garden bed. Roma, cherry, black krim, campari - and those are just the ones you can name. Dinner in this house must be full of all the most delicious, fresh produce.

Once again, you’re a little jealous.

You pick a few ripe and tasty looking romas, and call it good. While you’d love to experiment with some of the others, this was a kind offer from a friend and given to you by an acquaintance, you’re not about to take advantage of either of them. Holding your goods protectively to you, you wander back to the entrance of the garden, where Bear is once again knelt in front of one of the flowerbeds, tugging at some stubborn looking weeds.

He glances at you as you approach him. You hold up your three tomatoes and grin at him. “Thank you for these, you saved me a trip to the store!” A nod is all you get. “And… speaking of the store, I feel bad just taking these, I have cash?”

That gets him to fully turn his skull to look at you, and you take that as a yes.

“This is about a pound, I’d say, so how about I just give you an even $5?” You offer. Yet again, he just stares. 

“... I mean I can look up how much it is at the store or you can give me a price too, if you’d rather…” You ramble, feeling a little awkward under that stare of his. You just met the guy today, and he’s proving to be extremely hard to read.

You’re about to just reach into your pocket and pull out a $10 (way too much, but you’d pay anything to get out of this awkward silence), when your stomach growls rather loudly. His stare moves to your belly.

“Ah, uh, yeah it’s dinner time, huh?” You try to joke it off. His light flits back to your face, and finally, he just waves you off.

“... You don’t want money?” You ask tentatively. He shakes his head.

“... go home.” He rumbles, yet his tone isn’t rude, “go eat.” He adds. Your shoulders release tension you didn’t even quite realize was there and the awkwardness finally fading, and you offer him a grateful smile.

“Thank you, it’s been a long day. I really appreciate it.”

He hums.

“... and I hope you know you don’t have to wait until our team leaves to tend to your garden. This is your home, we’re just working here.”

He raises a skele-brow at your words, looking unimpressed as he gestures to the sizable hole in his skull. You hold back a wince as you remember your reaction. You know the guys you work with, and you also know that your reaction is probably going to be the most tame one he gets.

“Right… I uh, I’m really sorry for how I reacted, I thought it was a recent injury and I was worried you needed an ambulance or something cause humans can’t survive something like that, but that was really insensitive.” You murmur. His stare seems to slightly soften at that, but you barely notice that as an idea pops in your brain. Instantly, you brighten. “Wait here! I’ve got an idea, I will be right back!”

And with that, you start a careful jog to your old, beat up truck - not wanting to drop your precious produce. Once there, you deposit your small bounty into your upside down hardhat to keep them from rolling around, and then pop open your rather dirt-covered glove department. You’ve never really found the point in cleaning your truck that often when you just dirty it everyday after work. Digging through the mess of papers there, your hands find that knit fabric they were looking for.

“Ah hah!” You exclaim excitedly, closing your vehicle’s door and rushing back around the house to the garden that you left Bear at. He’s since moved on to a different flowerbed, but no amount of kneeling would hide that big frame of his and he’s rather easy to spot because of it.

Hearing the crunches on your loud footsteps in the gravel, he turns, seeming a little surprised that you actually came back.

You hold up the beanie in your hand, grinning at him as you let him connect the dots, it was one of your first crochet projects… and you misread the amount of links you’d need for it, resulting in a beanie that was ridiculously large for your head. You had meant to toss it or take it apart for the yarn, but it found its way into your glove department, and that’s where it’s stayed for almost a year. 

However, it seems to be the perfect size for this skeleton giant in front of you.

“Wanna see if it fits?” You ask, stepping closer. In your excitement, you don’t connect the dots that his skull might be a no-touching zone, and reach to slip it on. He quickly leans away from you, eyeing the beanie warily.

“Oh, right. Sorry, here.” You hold it out in an offer. He hesitantly takes it, staring at it for a long moment before glancing up to you. “It’ll stretch, if you’re worried about it catching those edges.” You assure him, not sure how sensitive the area around his injury is, but figuring it’s better safe than sorry.

After a few more moments of silence (that are beginning to feel a little less awkward), he slowly and carefully slips the beanie on his skull. He makes sure to stretch it and hold it a little ways away on his injured side of his skull, and soon it’s sitting nicely on his head.

A perfect fit.

“There! Now it’s hidden!” You say. He tilts his head. “I know it’s not fair that you can’t just waltz out here in broad daylight while we’re here without worrying about feeling judged, but it’s also not fair to have to hole yourself inside and wait until we leave to do your thing. I mean, it’s almost dark and you’ve got a lot more to do, and these string lights only illuminate so much.” You explain.

He nods, slipping it off and moving to hand it back to you, as if he’s not aware it’s a gift.

“Keep it, think of this as a trade for the yummy tomatoes! Plus, I think you look cute in it.” You say, smiling again as you see the slight blue return to his face. “If you decide you don’t like it, feel free to do whatever you’d like with it, it’s not like it’ll fit my head anyways.” You say with a little laugh.

A low rumbling noise escapes Bear. You tilt your head, and it doesn’t click until you see the smile on his face and his shoulders bouncing slightly. He’s chuckling at you.

You ignore the growing warmth on your face at hearing more of that very attractive voice of his, and let out a few little giggles of your own, closing your eyes as you do.

So, you’re none the wiser when Bear slips the beanie off of his head and moves closer to you in that silent way he does. It’s not until he plops the article onto you that you sputter and open your eyes, only to be met with your lashes brushing against the yarn and your vision being hindered by the way the beanie practically reaches the bottom of your nose. Reaching up, you lift it up and find Bear grinning at you.

“... no, it doesn’t… does it?”

He’s making fun of you. Again.

Jokingly pouting, you slip it off and toss it back at him, where it bounces off his chest harmlessly and falls into his lap. He guffaws at that, his little chuckles turning into a deep belly laughter. 

It’s infectious, and soon, you’re joining in again.

It’s not until your stomach makes your hunger loudly well known again, that he sobers, looking serious once again.

“... you need… to eat.” He reminds you.

You smile sheepishly, and try not to be too disappointed at having to leave. You were just getting him outta his shell a bit!

“Yeah, I do. Your dinner will be ready soon, too, I bet.” You say, shifting your weight on your feet as you stall just a moment longer. “I uh, hope to see more of you.”

He just stares again, but there’s a sharpness missing in his light.

“Goodnight, Bear.” You say, pivoting to take your leave. He doesn’t say anything right away, and you just assume he won’t, given what you’ve learned about him today.

But as you start to walk back to your truck, you hear a quiet, “goodnight.” from Bear. You smile again, turning to give him a little wave that you don’t see if he returns as you round the corner of the house.