#just start it you don’t have to finish just START just MAKE the new DOC

[figofswords]

anybody remember the stephanie brown essay I was working on under a research grant fully last summer? yeah it’s not done yet it super needs to be done and I’ve been avoiding working on it for weeks. someone tell me to just do it already

[joelsdagger]

let it flow | frankie morales x f!reader

read on ao3

pairing: sub!frankie x f!reader rating: 18+ minors dni word count: 4.4k (i think something possessed me bc this was originally 1k lmao) summary: you start a new form of birth control which has many side effects but frankie takes advantage of one side effect in particular. warnings: canon divergent, established relationship (reader and frankie are married), sub!frankie, soft dom!reader, body worship, pet names, nipple play, mommy kink, lactation kink, mutual masturbation , praise kink, pre-ejaculation, overstimulation, cumplay, cum eating, fluff.  No use of Y/N. No physical descriptions of reader. um i think that’s it? *scratches neck* disclaimer: this is literally for shits and giggles bc a friend and i were talking about sub!frankie having a lactation kink, but we weren’t feeling the whole pregnancy trope so i found a loophole hehe. after extensive research, i found that certain types of birth control that include progestin *can* increase lactation as well as breast enlargement and tenderness, so i tweaked this specifically for the purpose of this fic. i don’t study medicine so some of this isn’t 100% accurate so if anything is wrong just remember this is just for horny fun and i changed some things to fit what i was going for. if this piece is not for you, that’s cool, obviously not everyone is gonna be into the same stuff but please just move along and let everyone else enjoy the fun.

a/n: thank you for all the love on my first fic i was so incredibly nervous about it but yall have been so so kind. technically, i told myself i would post this friday for frankie friday, but the longer shit stays in my drafts the more i start to hate it and the urge to scrape everything grows too strong lol. this one is for kat and lyss who gave me this idea and then we screamed about it til 1am. shout out to @skrunkly-scrimblo and @papurgaatika for beta’ing and literally always saving me bc i can never read my fics from start to finish so they always come thru during the editing process. and shout out to my pinterest QUEEN, @aurasjournal, for helping me with the visuals. thanks for reading i hope you like it <3 super cute divider by @saradika

You’re staring back at yourself in the foggy mirror of your bathroom, assessing your breasts, they’re full, heavy and they ache. This is the fourth day in a row of feeling the consequences of your new birth control and the pain has only gotten worse. “The shit we do….fuckin’ birth control,” you mumble under your breath. 

You had switched to a different form of birth control earlier in the week, the IUD route wasn’t working out so well for you. For starters, the pain of getting the IUD implanted was unbelievably excruciating and on top of that, you had ParaGard (the copper IUD) implanted which didn’t have hormones so you were still getting your period. Your periods were heavy and painful and you have been seeking an alternative solution to stop them completely. At your last visit with your gynecologist, you both agreed to switch you over to taking birth control pills. 

Your physician had informed you that the pill form was a progestin-only contraceptive that would decrease the bleeding during your menstrual cycle or possibly get rid of it completely if you skipped the placebo pills on the last week of your pack. There was one not-so-tiny problem, you were not told that being on the pill would make your tits swell and you sure as hell didn’t know the damn pill would make you lactate. 

Earlier today you practically sobbed to your doctor on the phone. 

“Doc, sorry to be blunt but my tits fucking hurt,” you cry, tears welling up in your eyes. At this point, the pain had become unbearable.

“That’s pretty normal hun, it’s a common side effect for some women. As I told you on Monday, the use of a hormonal birth control that contains progestin can increase the likelihood of producing breast milk even if you aren’t pregnant. It’s your hormones adjusting to the pill and it’s going to take your body three to four months to adjust,” your doctor explained.

‘Wait three to four months,” you shout, "Doc, you didn’t mention anything about that. What the hell am I supposed to do?” you ask rashly.

Your doctor hesitates, “Well, we could go back to the copper IUD but then-”

“Then, I’d get my period yeah absolutely not,” you frantically cut her off.

“We could book you to come back in and try another route but I’m booked until the end of the month,” she suggests. 

“Of course you are, you’re like the only nice physician in the office, everyone wants to see you,” you laugh bitterly.

“There is something else that may help until we can see you in the office...many women have said that it helps,” she says.

You cross an arm around your chest, wincing slightly as your arm presses tightly against your chest, before dropping your arm back down at your side, “Okay…what is it?”

“You could massage them or have your husband stimulate your nipples,” she says nonchalantly. 

“Stimulate my nipples?” you hesitate, your eyes widening at her suggestion. 

“Yes, have him use his fingers or-”

“You’re not serious?”

Your doctor chuckles at your curiosity, “Yes, nipple stimulation and other sensual activities, can trigger and release the hormone, oxytocin, commonly referred to as the love hormone. Once oxytocin is triggered, your hormone levels are boosted and then it increases arousal and stress relief. Once it's released into the bloodstream, it helps alleviate breast tenderness and breast pain as well assisting with the flow of breast milk so yes, it’ll help.” she says pointedly.

You stare ahead, wide eyed and mouth agape. What the hell are you supposed to say to that?

“Look honey, many women have come in and told me directly that it helps, believe it or not, it even helps induce labor, but that’s beside the point, many women have been in your position and they have reported that it works. So at least try this out, and see how it makes you feel, just until we can get you an appointment and have you come in and then we can try something else. Alright?” she asks. 

“Yeah alright, thanks again Doc,” you huff, your hand rubs at your temple before dragging it down your face. 

“No problem hun, keep me updated through the portal,” she says. 

“Will do,” you hung up the phone and tossed it on the couch. 

That was six hours ago and now you’re standing in your bathroom as you wait for the bathtub to fill up. You read online that heat therapy could reduce some of the pain. While your husband was at work, you sprawled yourself out across the couch with a heating pad on your chest. It managed to ease the pain for a bit until the set timer turned the heating pad off and the second you stood up, the pain worsened again. 

To be honest, you’re a little embarrassed to bring it up to Frankie. It's not like Frankie won’t want to do it, he’d be very interested but what the hell are you supposed to say to him. Hey honey, my tits hurt and they’re leaking breast milk. Can you play with them a little so they feel better? He loves to engage in a little titty appreciation but this is a whole different ball game. You really aren’t in the mood to have this conversation with Frankie tonight, unsure of how he would react and possibly causing a bigger issue. 

You can hear the TV through the bathroom door, Frankie is watching some game. But when he hears you croak out in pain when you remove your bra, hands clutching at your swollen breasts, he moves lightning fast towards the bathroom door. 

“Querida, are you alright in there?” he asks through the door, his hand wrapped around the door handle.

You bite down on your lip, sighing before you finally bite the bullet and admit what’s going on. You crack open the door just enough so he can hear you better. 

“It’s-,” You let out another exhausted sigh as you rub your temple, feeling your cheeks warm.

“Remember, a few days ago, I went to my gynecologist and we decided to switch birth control methods?” He nods, eyes full of concern. 

“The pills are making my hormones go crazy and they’re making my tits swell and well…” you pull the door open to gesture towards your breasts. “I’m like a fucking pregnant woman but without the damn pregnancy,” you grumble. 

You immediately clock the worry on his face but Frankie can’t help the fact that he is practically salivating when he looks down at your tits. You notice his jaw slacken, his lips part as he takes in the curve of your breasts, they have grown a noticeable difference in size. You hear him inhale sharply when his stare drops to your nipples, dark and swollen. 

Suddenly feeling a little shy under the intensity of his gaze, you bring a hand up to cover your breasts, he inhales once again before speaking, yet you speak before he does, “It’s fine, apparently a bath will help, and I’ve got the water running. I’ll be out in a few minutes babe,” you press, a tight smile on your face. 

You see it all over his face, he wants to help but he doesn’t know how. His big, deep brown eyes filled with worry. “Okay baby, I’ll give you some privacy. I’ll be in the bedroom if you need anything,” he says quietly, eyebrows still raised. You can sense the uneasiness in his body language but he doesn’t press the subject. 

You thank him and shut the door, hearing him step back towards the bed. You slip off your panties and toss them into the hamper, then step into the hot water, sighing as you dip beneath the water.

After a few short minutes, you slowly bring your hands up to cup your breasts, experimentally kneading them. You press your hands more firmly and you bite down on your lip as you try to muffle a quiet moan. Huh. It does help. You continue toying with them until the water is no longer warm and your fingers become pruny. 

Dragging yourself out of the water and stepping out of the tub, you pull the plug out, the water spinning through the drain. Leisurely, you dry yourself off, pull a thin white tank top over your head, and drag a clean pair of blue lace panties over your legs. 

As you open the door to let the steam out of the bathroom, you grab your fuzzy robe from the hook behind the door, wrap it around your damp body, and head into the bedroom to catch the rest of the game with your husband. 

Yet, to your surprise, you find the TV off and instead see Frankie sitting up in bed, one hand tucked behind his head and the other holding his phone as he squints at the screen. 

You chuckle as you walk over to your nightstand. “Thought you were supposed to be wearing your glasses?” You tease, your lips forming into a smile.  

“I look dorky with ‘em, ‘sides I don’t need them right now,” he mimics your tone and turns his head to watch as you pump some of your cocoa butter body lotion into your hand and work it into your skin.  

“So, I did some googling,” he starts, a sly smirk creeping up onto his face as he continues, “It said…messaging them and sucking on them would help.” His eyes are still on the bare parts of your damp skin, completely enamored by how your skin looks in the dim light of your bedroom. 

You tense, hands freezing, streaks of lotion yet to be fully rubbed into your skin, “Baby, that’s ridiculous,” you laugh him off. 

“No, I’m serious look,” Frankie sits up and moves across the bed, holding out his phone for you to read the article he was studying beforehand.

“I don’t know about this Frankie,” you shake your head, frowning while you avert your eyes from his. 

“Come here,” smirking devilishly as he brings his hands up to your arms, pulling you towards the bed. 

“Frankie–” you scoff, playfully rolling your eyes at him. 

He tilts his head up to look up at you with those big brown eyes that you often find difficult turning down. “Trust me,” his hands rubbing up and down your arms soothingly.  

“You know I do, Frankie, the hell did I marry you for,” you tease, you sneak your hands behind his neck and interlock your fingers as you lean down and press a soft kiss to his head.   

“Then c’mere, let me help,” he whispers and it sounds more like a plea. He’s pulling you down onto the bed, guiding you to sit up against the pillows. His hands find your robe, untying the knot in the soft belt across your waist. You lean forward slightly while he pulls your robe off slowly,  his eyes watching your face, searching for any indication to stop but he doesn’t find any. 

He tosses the robe behind him on the bed as he leans down over you, nudging your legs open as he settles himself between your legs. He brings his hands back up to the thin material of your tank top, cupping your tender breasts in his large hands. 

“You’re so beautiful, so perfect, fuck–, so pretty baby,” he babbles lowly, goosebumps erupt on your skin, even after years of being married to him he still knows exactly what to say to make you feel so desirable. 

He gently squeezes your breasts, his thumb sweeps over your nipple back and forth, you whine softly as your hands find his hair, burying your fingers in his curls. It hurts but it’s pleasurable, the pressure he’s using feels better than what you were doing earlier in the bath. 

Frankie pinches your covered nipples between his rough fingers, hardening under his touch, you hiss when he tweaks them tightly, Frankie pauses, his eyes meet yours for a moment, “it’s okay–feels good, keep going,” you whisper to him. 

He brings his mouth down to one of your nipples and sucks it through the material with his other hand still fondling your other nipple. “Fuck– that feels good Frankie,” you moan, he whimpers lowly and feels his cock twitch in his boxers. Your eyes roll back in your head, your mouth falls open and he hollows his cheeks, sucking harder around your nipple. 

His mouth lets go of your breast, you look down to see the wet patch that formed over your peaked-covered nipple before he hastily pulls the tank top over your head, tossing it onto the floor, Frankie lets out a shameless groan when his eyes hungrily lock on your bare chest like a missile to a target. 

He leans in closer, his mouth hovering over your breast. You feel the warmth of his breath over your breast, a tingling sensation sneaks down your body. His hot mouth closes around your pebbled nipple. 

“Shit, Frankie,” you arch further into his mouth, and he moans and his tongue flicks up against your peaked nipple, and then he bites down softly, his eyes open, looking up at you from under his eyelashes. Frankie feels a slight warm gush fill his mouth, his eyes slip closed, whimpering around the bud. 

You tug on Frankie’s hair, pulling his mouth away from you, your stomach twisting at his reaction when he feels the gush of liquid filling his mouth. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that would happen-”

“Baby, hey, it’s okay. I was just surprised-” 

“No I know, it’s just gross,” you frown, feeling the pang of embarrassment in your belly.

“It’s not–it’s not gross. I–I liked it,” Frankie says sheepishly. 

“Really?” you ask softly. 

He laughs lightly and leans forward to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth then another just below your jaw. His beard scraping along your skin as he places wet open-mouthed kisses down your neck, all the way down past your collarbones until he reaches the valley of your breasts once again.

“Relax baby, I got ya,” he whispers against your skin.

Your eyes squeeze shut, your head falls back against the headboard, and your hand comes up to the nape of his neck, petting at his long brown curls. He ducks down to bring his mouth to your nipple, he parts his lips around the bud, his tongue circling around the bud a few times, licking at your nipple, he closes his lips and sucks softly before tugging it between his teeth, he hums around it, making you grasp at the sheets beneath you, a low ache building in the pit of your stomach.

“That’s it baby boy,” you say softly, petting his hair. You open your eyes when you feel him press his cock against your leg, his cock stirring in his boxers at your praise. 

He’s loving this, loves the taste of you and loves how good he’s making you feel. 

His hand palms your other breast, squeezing and kneading the meat of your tit, beads of milk collecting at the peak. He takes your nipple in between his calloused fingers and pinches it harder between his index and middle finger, the milk pours out from the bud down his hand and onto his forearm. 

Frankie feels the warm liquid on his arm, his mouth letting go of your breast, his pupils full of lust never leaving your face as he lifts his left hand up and licks a long slow, thick stripe from his forearm up his hand. Your mouth falls open and your chest heaves at the sight. 

“You taste so fucking sweet, baby,” he groans, his eyes closing at the taste of you. His cock twitches against your leg, now painfully hard in his boxers. 

He dips his head back down and licks up the milk leaking down your torso up to your nipple. He moans once his hot mouth latches around the stiff peak and his tongue swirls around it. He laps up the warm white liquid he’s sucking out of your breast. “There you go baby, just like that,” you sigh, closing your eyes and your head falls back against the headboard. 

One of his knees perches onto your leg, he grinds his cock against the meat of your thigh, he moans deeply, his fingers digging into the flesh of your breasts. “So, needy for me huh, baby boy,” you tut, gripping firmly onto his soft curls. 

He whines quietly, and unbeknownst to Frankie, he starts rutting his hard length against your leg in slow, shallow thrusts, you feel a rumble of a moan in his throat around your nipple. At the sudden movement, your head snaps up to see your husband getting himself off against your body, his teeth sinking into your breast. 

You’ve never seen him like this before, he’s insatiable and relentless and it makes your pussy pulse and clench around nothing. 

“Ohhh that’s it– good boy Frankie,” you moan breathlessly, feeling him suck harder on your breast with a deep groan.

You grab at Frankie’s hair again, your hand combs his hair back while tugging at his hair, gently pulling his head back and he whines loudly when you pull his mouth away from your breast. You catch a glistening sheen on his lips when you direct his head to your other breast. 

Your eyes meet his dark, blown out pupils as your thumb rubs his cheek down to the corner of his mouth. You thumb the bottom of his plump, soft lip, wiping the milk off of his mouth. Your thumb slips between his lips and you whisper, “Who’s my good boy?” 

He shivers beneath your touch, “I am,” he murmurs softly, his head resting down on your chest once again. Your hand cradles his head and you move your hand down along his head to cup his face.

You watch your husband’s eyes shut as he closes his mouth around your nipple and continues suckling from your breast, “Fuck– Frankie, keep going,” you pant into his hair, your hands still toying with his curls, eliciting another whine from him. 

He shifts and begins fucking himself into the mattress once again, seeking any type of friction possible. 

Watching your husband getting himself off to your body sends a sharp, hot spark of arousal down your spine straight to your core, your pussy throbbing and your panties now wet and sticky with your slick. 

You smirk and bring your lips down to his ear, whispering the word that you know lights a fire within him.  “You’re making mommy feel so good baby,” and Frankie whimpers, his mouth swallowing your breast whole, his hips grinding down faster into the mattress. 

“That’s it, baby, atta boy, such a good boy for mommy,” you coo into his ear. Frankie lets out a high-pitched whine, his hips stuttering and groaning when he feels himself spilling out all over the inside of his boxers. Your mouth falls open, your eyes wide as you stare at him, realizing he just came simply from putting his mouth on you. 

His hips shudder, occasionally jerking erratically, his legs shaking uncontrollably as he hisses from overstimulation, you continue whispering praises into his ears. 

While his mouth works on relieving your breast you take matters into your own hands, bringing your fingers down to your neglected cunt. You press your fingers into your covered slit, feeling the wetness of your pussy through the material before pushing your panties to the side. You move your fingers to your throbbing clit, circling eagerly while his tongue swirls over your nipple. 

He bites down on the bud a little more harshly, feeling another gush of warm liquid in his mouth, “tastes so good mi corozòn,” he whimpers against your breast, closing his eyes while his teeth nip at the wet bud. 

Feeling a cooling wetness from his eyes seeping onto your breast, you briefly look down to find tears stinging his eyes from the pleasure, the teeth marks on your nipples, your skin all wet and red from his mouth. 

He continues sucking at your breast, licking up the sweet taste of you into his mouth and moaning around your nipple, savoring the taste. 

You slip your fingers into your wet heat with a moan. “So good, Frankie, ohhh– you’re doing so well for mommy,” you gasp out while grinding your hips up into your own hand.  He whimpers, his cock twitches, throbbing lightly against the mattress, he’s getting hard just from hearing that word once again. 

Your other hand roughly tugs on Frankie’s soft locks, pushing his head further into you, swallowing more of your breast into his mouth. 

Frankie was too far gone to notice, but you realize he’s grinding himself into the bed once again, still moaning and whimpering into your tender flesh. You thrust your fingers into your pussy, timing them to Frankie’s thrusts into the bed, the wet squelch from your fingers thrusting in and out obscenely echoes in your bedroom. 

“That’s perfect, Frankie— don– don’t stop…shit. I’m so close–” You curl your fingers inside yourself, petting at the spongy spot deep inside while his teeth nip and lick and suck at your tit. 

You shout Frankie’s name as your back arches off the bed, legs shaking around Frankie’s body when your orgasm finally sweeps over you. 

He pulls off your nipple with a wet pop, moving fast to sit up and back on his knees, his hands making quick work of pulling off his underwear. His cock bobs up against the soft swell of his stomach. He hisses when he wraps a large hand around the girth and he thumbs the wide blunt of his tip smearing the beads of pearly white dribbling out from the slit. 

Your tongue pokes out, licking your bottom lip before biting down on the flesh. Your hands massage your breasts, your fingers pinching your erect, sensitive nipples under Frankie’s fucked out gaze. 

Desperately, he fists his cock over your figure. “Come, baby. Be a good boy and come for mommy,” you order him while staring into his eyes, dark and dilated, his mouth hanging open as he strokes his cock. 

Your low voice and your words are all he needs to bring him over the edge. The thrusting of his hips gets more erratic as he jacks his cock tighter in his hand and increases the pace, the wet, lewd slap from his strokes gets louder, his whimpers and pants filling the otherwise quiet room. 

“There you go, atta boy, give it to me Frankie, let it out," you encourage him softly. 

Your eyes watch the muscles in his soft belly tighten and his thighs tensing up, his moans growing louder and louder and louder, his eyes roll back into his head, “Fuck– mami,” a long drawn out, agonizing groan slipping past his lips, you watch as his cock twitches in his hand, his hips stammer as long, thick, warm ropes of cum paint your stomach. 

“That’s it baby, just like that, you did so good. So good Frankie,” you murmur. He opens his eyes and looks back down at you, still catching his breath while he watches the last of his cum spill onto your swollen breasts, he groans seeing the marks he’s left on your skin. Your tits are covered in splotches of red and teeth marks from his mouth, his come and the milk from your breasts leaking down your chest and onto your stomach. 

His hair is a mess, his pupils are blown out, he looks completely in a haze, utterly fucked out. You smirk up at him and click your tongue, “You made such a mess on mommy, Frankie.” 

His cheeks warm, the redness creeping down his neck and chest, he’s embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that,” he mumbles, his hand scratching the back of his neck.  

You move your fingers down your stomach, gathering his cum onto your fingers, “Don’t get shy on me now, come here my love,” your other hand reaches for him.

He crawls up towards your side, you slip a coated finger into your mouth and you close your eyes and hum. Frankie curses quietly to himself, seeing your pearly-covered finger slipping into your mouth and back out devoid of sheen. 

You bring a finger up to his mouth, your fingertip pressing against his lips, “open,” you order. You take advantage of his jaw slackening, sticking your glossy finger into his mouth and his lips close around your digit. You feel his tongue flatten underneath your finger then swirls it around your finger as he sucks it clean, he closes his eyes, his brows furrow, and he moans at the salty taste. 

“See, I keep telling you, you taste good, sweetheart,” you smile down at him, tucking a single brown lock behind his ear. 

“You did so good for me baby, made me feel so good,” you tell him while holding his patchy-bearded face. He chuckles timidly before pressing his lips to yours, licking behind your teeth, tasting himself in your mouth and mumbles a faint I love you against your lips.  

Frankie pecks your lips again before sitting up and walking over to the bathroom. You hear him flick the light on and the tap turning on and off while your eyes drift shut. You feel the warm wet rag dragging across your tummy and your tits, and then down between your folds as he cleans you up with tenderness. 

You open your eyes again when you hear him pad off towards the bathroom once more, watching him toss the washcloth back in the bathroom before he tucks himself into your side and nuzzles his face into the valley of your breasts, the coarse hairs of his beard tickling your skin.  

Frankie’s low voice breaks the comfortable silence, “Next time it hurts, you tell me cariño, ‘m more than happy to do that again,” he says shyly, feeling the smile on his face against your chest.

You fail to suppress your giggle, “Yeah, you enjoyed yourself didn’t you, sweet boy?” Your fingers run through his long soft brown curls, your fingertips grazing down his neck, a hint of sweat at the end of his hair along the back of his neck. 

“Mhm,” he hums, and you grin into his hair, pressing your lips to his messy curls, your eyelids heavy with sleep. He feels your fingers still, Frankie tilts his head to look up at you, “Don’t fall asleep yet, we’re not done mi vida, I still need to make you come again.”

[sincerelyneo]

birthday | h.rj

“so cover your eyes, i have a surprise”

💿now playing: birthday by katy perry

❯ summary: It’s your boyfriend’s first birthday with you. Too bad he’s too stubborn to tell you what he wants, leaving you to take matters into your own hands. Still, you’re certain the little blue set you have at the back of your closet will be just the perfect present for him.

❯ pairings: renjun x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, smut, tooth rotting fluff.

❯ words: 5.9k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, lingerie, birthday sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up), slight begging, praising, heavy petting, reader uses she/her pronouns, renjun calls reader his girl, renjun is very smitten, reader dresses up for renjun’s birthday.

a/n: i’m in the process of going through my old google docs to find my old fics and repost them.

“Could you please stop being so stubborn?!”

It’s the twelfth time this week you’ve asked Renjun what he wanted for his birthday. You’ve asked the boy so much you swear you’ve had this argument in every part of your house: the living room, the bedroom, the dining room, and even the bathroom. But today, your boyfriend is adamant he doesn’t want anything in the kitchen. 

“I don’t understand you sometimes,” you huff, folding your arms across your chest and pressing your weight against the island. “You had no problem telling Chenle and Mark what you wanted, why are you giving me a hard time?” 

Renjun chuckles to himself as he starts placing last night’s leftover pizza in the microwave. 

You’re right — he knows you’re right — and he thinks about how willing he was to tell Mark about the new expensive shoes he had seen and needed to have. 

“This isn’t funny!” You groan. 

“Baby, I’ve told you a thousand times, you don’t need to get me anything,” he finishes twiddling the dial before turning around and pressing his arms against the counter behind him. 

You notice the way the arm muscles, that his short-sleeved t-shirt was exposing, tense and the way his veins become more prominent. He always looks so hot in the morning, hair dishevelled and eyes droopy from staying up all night just to fuck you. And you swear, if you weren’t so goddamn mad at him right now you’d fall to your knees instantly and fumble with his pyjama bottoms. 

“But I just want to treat you, Jun,” you whine, bouncing a little in distress. Renjun sucks a breath between his teeth as his eyes flick to your boobs.

He pushes himself off the counter and pulls you into a big bear hug, he was good at giving those, and the two of you always knew the minute he engulfs you in them you become putty in his hands. 

“You spoil me enough already by being my girl,” he presses a soft kiss to your hair and you almost melt — but then you remember, this is the twelfth time he’s played this tactic to avoid this conversation —  and you were sure as hell not letting him whither out of it once again. 

You untangle his arms from your sides and watch him smirk as they fall. This is usually the part where you kiss his nose and tell him to stop being so cute, but not today — you’re pissed. 

“I’m not falling for it this time, Huang,” you shove your hands on your hips, “so quit playing around and just tell me what you want.”

He huffs, “Baby, do we have to do this now, it’s early.”

“Yes, we’re doing this now! You’re not getting any younger!”

He rolls his eyes. He just doesn’t get it. Why can’t you understand that he doesn’t want you to spend your money on him? He didn’t need you to pamper him with expensive gifts just to know that you love him. He already knows that — you make it very clear to him when you're screaming his name. He finds it ironic actually, that you’re the one calling him stubborn yet you won’t give up on this. And that’s when he gets his idea. 

“I know what I want-”. Your eyes light up with joy the minute he says it. “-I want you to stop asking me what I want. Now that would be the best present to date,” and now they’re dimming. 

“You’re impossible, you know that?!”

“It’s all a part of my charm,” he winks. 

The microwave beeps and Renjun lets out a sigh of relief as he pulls out the hot plate. He takes a bite, mouth full and says, 

“I know you’re not gonna drop this, so we’ll finish this after my pizza.” 

Then he saunters past you and into the living room.   

You in fact did not finish that conversation after Renjun’s pizza. You did try, but your boyfriend was great at nuzzling into your neck and gripping your thighs tight enough to distract you. 

So now, you’re standing here, in your kitchen, on his birthday, trying to make him breakfast as a last minute surprise. It was a small but possible gesture considering he had not given you anything to work with. 

Renjun stumbles out of the kitchen half asleep, hair all over the place with his sweatpants hanging off his hips. He rubs his eyes, wincing at the shriek of the smoke alarm that had woken him up. 

The sight he found in front of him was you, standing on top of the kitchen counter, frantically waving a dish towel at the smoke alarm to get it to stop. You’re covered in flour from trying to make pancakes from scratch, smoke steaming from the frying pan.

When the screeching does stop, you blow out a heavy frustrated sigh dropping your hands to your side noticing Renjun. He’s standing there, leaning against the door frame with a wide grin plastered on his face; looking from you to the kitchen that looks like a bomb exploded in it. 

"What's all this?" he asks, eyes lit up to match the amused look on his face.

You give him a sheepish smile. Gesturing to the plate of black pancakes on the bench across from him.

"Uhm... Happy Birthday?"

“Ah, so you finally decided on a birthday present.” 

“Yeah, but I think I’ve ruined whatever it was supposed to be.” 

The two of you look down at the ruined breakfast. You’re embarrassed but he’s so sweet about it, and still offers to eat the pancakes. You tell him not to, unless he wanted this birthday to be his last.

He comes to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around and pressing into you so you have to land your hands on the island counter in front. He nestles in against your ear. 

“Thanks for trying though.” 

You look up at him over your shoulder, “Don’t underestimate me, Huang. There’s more.” 

“More?” His eyebrow quirks.

You nod and grab his hand to lead him into the living room. He follows suit, eventually flopping down on the leather sofa. 

“You didn’t have to do all this, Y/N.” 

“Shhh,” you dismiss him, "just no peeking, okay?” 

"I would never.” 

Renjun can't see, he's sitting there with his hands pressed against his face. 

You’re honestly starting to regret this whole thing. This wasn’t even your idea but it was Haechan’s suggestion to surprise your boyfriend with lingerie. Well, not exactly lingerie, he just told you to do ‘something sexy for him,’ and this was what you landed on.

Calling Haechan was a last resort, you were in a moment of crisis and panic about only having a week left to whip up your boyfriend a present. You were hoping your boyfriend may have mentioned something to his friends — but he hadn’t — so alas here you are. 

You’re saving this for last though. For now, you have his actual wrapped present for him to open, and you’re just praying he likes it. It’s hard to buy presents for a man who has almost everything. 

You set the wrapped present on the coffee table in front of him, and move to sit next to him, adjusting the black silk robe you put on this morning to hide his real surprise underneath. 

"Okay, you can look,” you finally tell him, watching his hands drop faster than you can blink but his eyes immediately get caught by the black smooth material riding up your skin. He starts raking his gaze over your thighs before bringing it to your face.

The black pupils in his eyes expand inside the brown, a slow pleased form of excitement tugging his mouth up at the corner to flash his teeth.

You’re anxious to see what he thinks of his gift, you just want him to unwrap it already so you can see his reaction. 

"Open your present," you whine at him taking too long. 

But Renjun’s more impatient than you. His fingers starting to toy with the drawstring of the robe around your waist, trying to tug at the knot there with a pout.

"But I want this one.” 

You push his eager hands away and he huffs, shoulders slumping as his gaze goes to the table with his bottom lip pushed out. 

"I’m sure you do," you tease, reaching over to pick up his present wrapped in patterned blue paper. 

"It’s sort of a silly present, but I thought you might like it,”  you explain, watching him trace his fingers over the wrapping paper with an amused smile. 

"I kinda don't wanna open it... it's wrapped so pretty.” 

"Please open it — the suspense is killing me.” 

His frantic skilled fingers discard the paper next to him as he tore it away. He then picks up the small leather book in his lap that's now exposed.  A bright, albeit kind of confused laugh bursts from him as he looks. 

“Flick through it,” you instruct, and he does. 

You bite your lip, watching him inspect it. It’s a scrapbook you managed to put together last minute. “Some of the pages are blank, figured we could fill it out together as we do more things.” 

"I love it" he butts in, looking at you with a grin as he keeps flicking through it.

He leans over to kiss you, but you press your finger against his lips to halt him, watching his brows twitch together as his lips pucker against your finger, "We went over this at Christmas, open your presents first or we'll be here all night — you can have a kiss once you're done."

In response to your rules, he slams the scrapbook closed, dropping it on the table. Then you’re being grabbed and yanked towards him so fast that you fumble into his lap. His hand grabs your thigh to hoist it up over him, so your knees sit on either side of his hips.

Everything is so fast; you barely have time to register it. His large hands are grasping at your jaw, while his fingers splay against your cheek until he's pushing his mouth against yours with a force that knocks oxygen clean out of you.

He's sucking in quick broken breaths through his nose, putting everything into the kiss that's harsh and tender all at once. His hands slip from your jaw into your hair, pulling you closer to him so your hands rest against his chest and you fist at the fabric. 

He tears his mouth away for the briefest moment. You’re staring at each other with eyes red and glossy. 

“So I take it you liked it?” you ask with a bite of your lip. 

He shakes his head while smiling before tugging you forward again. His tongue delving back past your lips, “Of course I fucking like it.” 

His hands drop from your hair to grope over your waist and hips to hold you against him. You haven’t even gotten to your last present for him yet and he’s already crippling with desire. 

Renjun keeps his mouth hovering close to yours,

"Like? No like isn’t the right word — it's not good enough," he manages between kisses, "I love it, I love you.”

"It’s not that amazing," you hush him as he paws at your back and tries to connect your mouths again. 

“Yes, it is, because you made it."

You hate (love) the way he’s always so sweet and reassuring. You know he does it for your reaction, to tease you and make your cheeks turn red. So, you try to escape him before he gets the chance to make a snarky remark about the blush on your cheeks. 

But attempting to lift yourself off of him causes him to immediately protest, digging his fingers into your skin through the silk as he tries to move his face to your neck to attack there instead.

You push at his chest, and he whines a pathetic sound that has your skin tingling, "Don't tease me baby please, don't be mean. It’s my birthday.”

"I'm not trying to tease you,” you shake your head, pulling back and shuffling off of him, but he won’t let you.

After a long battle, you mange to unclamp his stubborn hands while he stares at you with desperate puzzled eyes.

"Then stop moving and come here,” he tries to reach for you to pull you back down but you step away, moving further from the couch. 

His gaze darts from your feet to your face, wetting his lips while watching you intensely. You see him take his bottom lip between his teeth when you move your hands to the knot at the front of your robe and slowly start to slip it undone. 

His eyes flash wider and his fingers grip tighter around his knees where he's sat with his legs spread wide. You can feel nerves buzzing in your body, taking a coaxing breath as you lock your eyes with his.

"You ready to open your last present?"

The anticipation in the air is palpable, it's enough to have your fingers trembling with the way Renjun’s suspenseful gaze keeps locking on you. But the thing that’s making your heart surge the most is the emotion behind his eyes. 

You never do things like this. At least, you haven’t with Renjun. And even though he tells you every day that you’re so beautiful and so perfect, you can’t help but feel your nerves tighten. 

"You gonna show me what's under there?” Renjun encourages in a slow voice, full of rasp. You watch his chest jump with a breath when you grip the edges of the robe to pull it open.

He notices you hesitate, and his brows twitch together as he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, "Don't be nervous, ever. Not with me."

You compose yourself with his encouragement. But you still hold your breath as you let the robe start to slip from your shoulders, the silky fabric inching down as you open it until it hits the floor. Your heart hammers with every bit of skin being revealed as you stand there in a set of blue lingerie. 

It's like time stops. Renjun hasn't so much as taken a breath, eyes frozen on you, darting everywhere at once.

You start to tense up, but then he lets out a breath. He clears his throat a few times and opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out; he just sits there with his mouth ajar. You glance up at him, feeling your heart accelerate and blood rush to your cheeks. On the other hand, it looks like Renjun’s brain has completely short-circuited.

Harnessing a surge of confidence from his reaction, you take a few steps to close the gap between the two of you. His eyes stay transfixed as they trace over every inch of blue decorating your body. You’re standing between his spread legs, and he falls back against the backrest of the couch with a slight thud.

"Do you like it?" You ask, keeping your voice quiet. 

"I - I, uh..." He swallows, then blinks once, twice, and then closes his eyes shaking his head like he can't concentrate, "Uh - fuck, I..."

"Everything okay, Jun?" You suppress a smile and watch as he takes a deep breath when his eyes drift open, and he smooths his hair away from his forehead.

"No, I'm not - what the fuck are you trying to do to me...baby," he stumbles over his words, taking you in with another once over like he can't believe it. Then he brings his hands up to hover near your hips. "So, this is what you finally came up with?"

You chew on your lip, face feeling hot from how flattered you feel over his reaction. You’re not sure what you expected, but you didn't expect him to be this well... stunned.

"I wanted to give you the best birthday,” you murmur, “so yeah, I bought it for you."

He breathes like the oxygen was kicked out of him, reaching for your hands and pulling you towards him until you’re perching a knee on either side of his hips and resting your limbs on his shoulders.

His hands hover near your hips again and trace down over your thighs, but he doesn't touch them — not yet anyway. 

"I don't even think I deserve to touch you in this."

"Don’t say that. Haechan thought this would be a good idea," you tell him, feeling his hands finally settle on your thighs and watching his eyes flash wider as his jaw clenches.

Yep. That was the total wrong thing to say to him right now.

You wait for Renjun to blow a blood vessel in his forehead, but instead, his eyes go down to your cleavage under the blue mesh of your bra and he takes in a slow breath.

"This is what she talks to my friends about?" he mutters to himself, and you try so hard not to crack a smile.

His gaze drifts up to yours again, and he swallows; moving his hands up your thighs to feel his palms over the straps and garters enriching your skin before his jaw softens. 

"Well... look at it this way" you coax him, keeping your tone gentle whilst you smooth your hands over his shoulders to rest against his neck, "You're the only one that gets to take this off of me.” 

Your words have your boyfriend lifting his brows, and sucking his lower lip under his teeth and that old bothered look melts away to a much more pleased one, "Just me?"

"Only you," you nod, feeling his fingers press harder into the skin of your hips when he rests his hands there.

"Forever?"

“Always.”

He wets his lips, leaning in more so your noses nearly touch and his rough voice whispers into the air between you, "Can I tell you a secret?"

You can only manage a nod, chest tight from how the atmosphere feels like it's strangling you. There is such an intense feeling, because he's looking at you with hungry eyes that also look flooded with heart crippling love.

His hands move from your hips to trace his fingertips up your back, “You’re the first girl who’s ever done something like this for me.” 

He trails off to brush his nose against yours, before nudging it against your cheek and keeping his lips just out of reach. You feel your eyes start to burn, that lump lodging in your throat as you exhale a shaky breath. 

"I’m so fucking obsessed with you, Y/N. You just wouldn’t believe it," his fingers ghost back down your back, and he keeps his stare on yours.

"Please shut up and kiss me," you burst your words out in a single breath, gripping the sides of his neck to tug him towards you and connect with his lips. 

It's like a rupture of pressure as soon as your mouths touch, and Renjun sucks in a sharp gasp through his nose; attacking your lips with his in a kiss that's desperate and frantic.

His hands go straight to your now bare ass, that's only covered by two measly straps of the lingerie, and grips it. He starts hoisting you up, your arms clinging around his shoulders as tight as your thighs wrap around his hips. He blindly makes his way towards your bedroom, trying his hardest not to trip over his own feet or walk into something with you around him. 

Both of your lungs are trying to suck in the air but become nothing but a ball of gasps and pants mixed with shaky breaths and trembling limbs. 

He manages to make it into your dim bedroom when he urges your thighs down until your feet hit the ground and he's the one that drops down to sit on the edge of the bed. You stand in front of him, weak at the knees and cloudy in the brain with blood rushing through your body like fire.

Renjun stares up at you, his cheeks tinted with the flush that's crept down his neck to match the cherry colour of his raw lips. You move towards him. It’s like you have a magnet in your chest tugging at you with all its force to get you closer to him.

"Turn for me. I wanna get a proper look at you — see how lucky I am,” he rasps out of breath, and the deep gravelly sound leaving him makes your spine shiver.

His hands on your hips urge you to spin around. You’re not sure how your legs are able to withstand it considering how jelly-like they feel. 

"I’m the luckiest man alive...God fuckin help me,” he whispers to himself and you can’t help but allow your whole body to erupt in goosebumps when his eyes burn into every part of your skin. 

He’s lust drunk on you. 

Renjun’s hands come up, going to the blue material hiding your chest from him. He begins letting his fingers follow the edges of it, teasing his digits over your perked nipples. He continues going down and repeating his brushing over the garter belt and panties, taking in each detail like he never wants to forget it. 

"I kinda don't wanna open it... you're wrapped so pretty," he murmurs, looking up to catch your eyes and mimicking his earlier words.

Your hands are shaking from the tension in the air. His knuckles graze against the front of your underwear, making your breath hitch in your throat. He drags his tongue across his lower lip, sliding his palms down the front of your thighs. 

“I don’t think I have enough words to thank you for today. But I think I can show you.” 

You can't take this anymore, and before you can think twice you rush forward, leaning down to grasp his face and clamber on top of him. You kiss him as hard as you can, the force making him fall backwards as his shoulders hit the mattress with a bounce. 

He only gives you a few seconds before he's flipping you. Climbing over you and ushering you further up the bed. When his lips detach from yours, Renjun pushes himself up onto his knees to look down at you perched between his legs.

His chest is heaving, hair all over the place with random strands dangling in front of his forehead. He moves his hands to throw off his t-shirt. You get drunk off the sight of him when he focuses on getting his pyjama bottoms off. 

He drops forward as soon as his legs are free, his large hands dipping into the bed next to your waist with your legs bent on either side of his shoulders. He turns his head to leave a trail of heated wet open kisses up your skin that makes your centre throb.

Every action feels heightened, so intense but gentle. His movements are heated but careful like he's trying to fuck your heart but love your body at the same time.

Your hands move to his hair, stroking through it as he moves his mouth to your other thigh, paying it the same attention. You gasp when he takes the strap from your garter between his teeth to let it snap back against your skin.

"Jun please..." you sigh in a wavering breath. 

"Okay baby" he hushes against your skin, moving his hands to grip the hem of your underwear sitting over the top of the garter, "Gonna be so good to you. Make you feel how I do."

You hold your breath when you feel him gently start to tug it down your hips. His eyes focus on his hands dragging the material down your thighs like he's savouring the moment. Then he’s sitting up on his knees again to lift your legs and remove your underwear completely.

He dangles the blue fabric on his fingertip, raising a cheeky brow at you, "Think I might keep these."

"Don't you dare,” you burst out laughing, swatting at his hand as he giggles to himself.

He drops the underwear next to you on the bed, moving his hands to slip under your back. You arch to help him while he feels around and uses his fingers to unclasp your bra. His gaze is admiring, watching it slip off your arms.

"Definitely keeping this too.” 

You roll your eyes, grinning to yourself. But that smile is quickly wiped away when his eyes lock on your face and one hand takes your thigh to push it against the bed and spread your legs further apart. He drags his fingers up your slit; tracing through the warmth and arousal that had already soaked into the fabric he'd since removed.

Your mouth falls open at the same time his brows pinch hard together, his jaw clenched as he lets his gaze momentarily flick down to his fingers exploring your cunt.

Your hips buck up when he focuses his fingertips against the sensitive nerves, making you feel like your clit has its own heartbeat as jolts of pleasure shoot through you. Renjun leans forward to rest his hand next to your head, dipping his mouth down to latch it around your nipple, nipping and sucking against it.

"Oh-, fuck,” you hiss curving your chest up as your hips start to squirm. He traces slow lazy patterns against your clit, "Renjun - please, don't tease me - just, fuck I need—"

Your words are cut short when he applies more pressure to your nerves, massaging leg-numbing patterns against you while his teeth give your nipple a gentle tug before he moves to the other one to pay it the same attention. You gasp at the cold air that hits the bud.

"Tell me how it feels," he mumbles against your flesh when he moves his mouth to drag his lips between your cleavage, "I wanna know how you feel right now, tell me."

Like your vagina is about to scream in agony if he doesn’t hurry up and fuck you.

"S-So good," you manage to pant out, squeezing your eyes closed as your hips rut against his fingers when he dips them down to slip through your dripping centre to tease at your hole. "It’s amazing b-but I'm going to explode if you keep teas-"

Renjun shakes his head, flicking his eyes up to stare at you under his lashes when he licks a wet stripe up between your breasts. 

“No, I wanna know how you feel-" his lips press against the skin over your heart, "-tell me how you feel about me."

You choke on a moan when he dips his fingers down inside your pussy at your silence, sinking his middle and ring finger deep as his hot forehead drops against your chest. 

"Tell me,” He groans, voice low dropping deeper as he relishes your gripping around his fingers, "please."

"I feel- it feels like - uh, god I feel —" you whimper when he curls his fingers, massaging inside of you at that pressure point that makes your stomach quiver. "I l-love y-you."

It comes out as rambling. You’re stuttering like a mindless lunatic — but the one thing you're sure of is that it’s the truth. 

Your barely coherent words make Renjun still his fingers, sucking in a heavy broken breath when he lifts his face to seal his mouth against yours. His hand grabs hold of your thigh to hook it around his hip as he shifts closer until you feel the weight of his warm length heavy against your pubic bone. 

"I fucking love you too," he pants out against your lips, his voice thick and strained, "So fucking much I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop."

You roll your hips up against him, threading your fingers into his hair, "I don’t want you to ever stop — I want you to fuck me, please fuck me."

The tight knot in your lower half feels like torture at this point as his fingers are still working slow. He hushes you when he sees the distraught look on your face and hears the muffled whines from you as his motions become very still.

"Shhhh," his hips lift back as his hand wraps around the base of his length. He teases it up and down your drenched folds, "I'm not gonna stop - I just - I don't wanna fuck you... it's not the right word. It's more than that. Need you to feel that it’s more than that.” 

He applies pressure with his tip against your pussy, holding his weight up on his elbow next to you so he can tilt his head up and watch your face. His heavy glazed eyes locked on yours with his brows hooded over them. 

"Please keep looking at me."

You fight to stop your eyes from fluttering shut, staying captivated by the way his pink lips part and the way they twitch to verbalise a silent moan when he inches forward a fraction to feel his tip slip past the threshold and into you.

Your brows are scrunched together in pleasure, fighting to keep your hips still as the moment feels paralysing. 

He pushes forward in a slow savouring motion. When he finally sinks into you completely, you stretch around him. His teeth suck in his lower lip between them, while a low skin-tingling moan echoes from deep in his chest as he stays still.

"Wrap your legs around me - I wanna be closer."

You do as he asks, tightening your thighs around his hips and resting the heels of your feet against his own thighs. You feel him sink even deeper and you watch the veins in his neck strain at the feeling.

"Please move" you beg, barely able to get the whisper out. 

Renjun struggles to keep his breathing even as he watches your face, slowly drawing his hips back, wrecking you as he rolls his hips forward in a motion to fill you again.

Your fingers tighten in his hair when your hips come up to meet his. He starts in a slow drawn-out rhythm, panting out a soft groan.

Your eyes threaten to drift closed again, the blissful feeling enveloping all of your limbs too much to stay conscious. Renjun ducks his face down, attaching his mouth to yours and you moan into the kiss which elicits a stomach-knotting whine from him.

Before you know what's going on, Renjun is rolling you, turning on his side with you facing him and taking hold of your leg to hook it over his hips. His other arm wraps under your waist and around your back. His hand reaches between you, grasping his length and placing it at your opening before he thrusts into you again making you cry out at the feeling from this angle.

He keeps you hugged close to him, connecting you with him in long deep strokes while his hand comes up to tangle in your hair and he presses his forehead against yours. 

"Stay with me" he pleads, "Keep looking at me. Look at how you make me feel."

You can only respond with a gasp that hitches in your throat when he buries himself into you as deep as he can, rolling himself against you as your nails dig into the skin of his back. 

His hand slips from your hair for a brief moment, to reach and grab for your hand which he guides down to the spot between your legs. You take the hint; letting your fingers find your throbbing clit and work towards unravelling the tightness in your abdomen.

"Oh- god, shit,” you whimper, shocked by the combination of all the sensations consuming your body. Your hips start to writhe at the feeling.

"That's it baby - you make me feel so fuckin good, I want you to feel it too," he pants, forehead slick with sweat while both your bodies feel like they're burning and his thrusts start to build with more purpose. He’s fucking into you at an erotic speed as if he's trying to spill out every feeling he has with his body.

Your stomach starts to tremble as warmth floods your lower half, and your muscles start to contract and flutter around him. It only encourages him to slow down the rhythm to drag out the feeling to a point you don't know how to handle.

You can feel him being swallowed inside of you with each thrust as your fingers slip down to where you’re joined. You toy with your clit helping your body reach a point where it’s trembling over the edge. 

Renjun finally caves, moving his face to bury against your neck, when your walls contract around him and your hips roll with his. 

"Fuck, Y/N".

His breathing gets even more ragged as every muscle in his body becomes tense with his movements. He begs muffled words against your skin; tightening his arm around you like he somehow needs you closer.

"Tell me you love me again.” 

You manage to stutter out a breathless "I love you,” heaving out the air in your lungs as you work your fingers faster and Renjun fucks you further in love with him — if that’s possible. 

"No, say you love me. Say my name, Y/N," he groans, pulling his hips back only to thrust them forward so deep you cry out. 

You rack your nails down his skin while your leg tightens around his hip to pull him closer. 

“I love you, Renjun. So fucking much.” 

His thrusts become more abrupt at your words. "That's my girl" he rasps. 

When he feels you tipping over the edge his thrusts quicken at animalistic speed. "Go on baby - cum - let me feel it."

You couldn't stop it even if you tried — you wouldn’t. 

You let out a scream from the back of your throat at the force of him and chant out a string of mumbles of his name. Your body convulses and shakes whilst you clamp around his length to which Renjun grunts at the feeling, whispering praises to coax you through it.

"Always so good for me — fuck!" His sentence gets cut short with a loud growl that sounds like it was punched out of him. His rhythm falters as he clings to you and sobs out moans against your neck.

He snaps his hips forward and sinks into you to grind his hips against you to linger in the feeling. His muscles shuddering and jolting as he gasps for air and his own orgasm punches into him. 

Hearing and feeling him in so much bliss is only dragging out the aftershocks of your own orgasm. You’re both a mess of limbs and shameless noises before you feel him still completely. His release erupts into you in warm spurts, his body twitching with each one.

You’re like a limp puddle, but Renjun stays clung to you, sucking in harsh breaths not daring to move and keeping your sweaty bodies tangled.

"Fuck, if not knowing what I want for my birthday means I get to have you like this, I never want anything ever again," he rasps, laughing under his breath and sounding delirious.

You can only hum in response, your mind too fucked out to even respond. 

You lay wrapped up in each other, and you know you need to get cleaned up, but you honestly can't be bothered. Enjoying the post-orgasmic pleasure too much. 

"Happy fucking birthday to me!”  he drawls, finally letting his face fall flush against the pillow.

[foreverdolly]

𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄 |80's mechanic!austin x best friend!reader

summary: it's starting to look like he might never make it out of the friend zone. austin has been in love with you for as long as he can remember, and he's terrified that you'll never see him as anything more than a best friend and protector. with the fear of you one day outgrowing him fresh on his mind, he's now hell bent on getting you to view him in a different light. madly in love and terrified to lose you, austin butler is playing for keeps.

pairings: 80s mechanic! austin x childhood best friend!reader

word count: 4.8k

notes/warnings: SMUT! in part two, virgin!austin. . . need i say more?, i love pining and this fic is testament to that, shaky/hurried hands, who doesn't love a good best friends to lovers fic, he has a deep southern accent, austin is the small town's metalhead and he's swelteringly hot without even trying. (this is going to have to be two parts because it turned out too long after editing. the smut alone is like. . . five pages on google docs.)

The incessant metallic clinging and loud mechanic whirs echoed against the cement flooring of the auto body garage. The sun was peeking just over the trees right outside the open garage doors, the spring sky slowly burning gold and pink. Most of the men were rushing to finish up with the vehicles that they were working on, eager to get home to their families after a long day of work. There was one mechanic though -who might be young, but made up for it with skill- was still elbow deep under the car’s hood, eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration. He’d only been looking at the car for five minutes and knew exactly what was wrong with it. The elderly woman had gotten her car towed all the way to Travis’ shop after the damn thing stalled out in the middle of the Winn-Dixie parking lot. The young mechanic could see her through the lobby’s windows watching him, her tiny wrinkly hands balled up into nervous fists.

“Aye- Austin?” Travis jogged right up to Austin, placing his hand down on one of the side mirrors as he waited for the diagnosis. 

“It’s not the engine. The transmission,” He pointed towards the old hunk of junk, leaning his head back under the hood to show his boss. “It’s completely shot. She said it will jerk when she accelerates and the wheel will sometimes shake when she’s goin’ fast enough. What’s happening is that it’s slippin’. The damn thing won’t stay in gear. This car is ten years out of date- I mean. . . It's a ‘74. So even if we order the parts-” 

“It’s gonna cost more to fix than it would be for her to just buy a whole new one.” The boss finished for him, sighing when he saw Austin nod his head in agreement. 

The long haired blonde blinked his eyes against the burning sunset, shooing a gnat away from his face as he leaned his hip against the car. He crossed one booted foot over the other as he waited patiently for the man to make a decision. While Travis enjoyed making money, Austin knew that the bastard was above stealing it from little old ladies. With a small huff of defeat the middle aged man began walking back in the direction of the lobby, most likely to break the bad news. He stopped just before he opened the door, pointing a quick finger-gun in Austin’s direction. 

“Are you comin’ over to Mark’s cookout tonight? You can bring your girl.” He called out over the loud noise. 

Austin shook his head before flashing the man a little face of distaste. 

“I’ve gotta go to my dad’s house to grab some of my old shit. Besides- I don’t have a girl to bring.” 

Travis shot him “a face” right back, but one of disbelief. “Yeah, right. A girl doesn’t just bring her friend a hand packed lunch every other day unless she was hopin’ for somethin’ to happen between them..” And before Austin could even defend himself the man was gone, sauntering solemnly over to the corner where the elderly woman was sitting. 

You weren’t the one that was hoping for a chance at romance, but Austin was. He’d rather die than admit it, but his co-workers' words lit a small fire in his chest; a hopeful pyre that didn’t dim. 

The wooden stairs were old and weather worn, the nails rusted with age. Austin always felt a sense of dread when he heard the familiar creaking under his feet, and the fact that he could hear the television droning on from inside of the trailer didn’t make it any better. It meant that he was home, and the blonde knew what that meant. A fight was sure to ensue, and after the shitty day that he had at work, that was the last thing that he wanted to endure. He found that the door was unlocked, per usual. The inhabitant of the rickety death trap didn’t have anything worth stealing. 

“Why are you here?” The middle aged man looked terrible for his age, though Austin blamed that on the endless supply of alcohol and drugs that ran through the man’s system. 

Austin cleared his throat, closing the door behind him with a grimace. He didn’t want to be here, but there were still a few boxes back in his old room that he needed to grab. After that he’d be gone for good, or at least that’s what he told himself anyway. His no-good father was used to relying on other people to save the day, one of those people being his own son. 

He blamed his strong sense of duties on the fact that he was raised in the deep south. “Being a man” was hammered into his skull from the moment of his very conception. Taking care of your family, especially when they are unable to do it for themselves, was considered a must. Austin had always hated his father. In fact, he couldn’t remember a single time in his life when he had felt gratitude or love in any magnitude towards his father. Still, he was a man and needed to provide for his family. . . right? He didn’t want anyone to think less of him for abandoning his father. More than anything, he didn’t want the wrong kind of gossip ending up in the wrong people’s ears.

What was important to him now was getting the hell away from his abusive father. He was old enough to start thinking about what he wanted for himself in the future. He’d always craved companionship with a certain person. . . children were on his radar too. The last thing he wanted was for his druggie father to be in his own kid’s lives. 

The lanky man didn’t fit in the small home anymore, and he hadn’t for years. Both physically and emotionally, he had outgrown his prison many moons ago. He took a few seconds to look around the living room. Now that he wasn’t there to clean up after the grotesque man, the house smelled absolutely putrid. Austin’s nose wrinkled in disgust, eyes dancing along the empty beer cans and overflowing sink. 

“Jus’ gettin’ the last of my stuff.” Austin grumbled, his bulky black boots sticking to the dirty linoleum floors as he tried his best to breeze past the older man’s old recliner. 

A hand reached out, gripping at his wrist to stop him. Austin looked down, the muscles in his sharp jaw clicking as he held back the urge to rip himself out of the man’s reach. He knew that he was too big for the man to intimidate now, but his body still remembered the pain his father had put him through as a kid. 

“Ya talkin’ bout that toolbox?” The man’s voice was gravely, all thanks to the menthols he religiously smoked. Austin could smell the Miller Light and smoke coming off of him now. It was nauseating. 

The blonde ripped his eyes off of the man’s face, peeking off down the hall to see his old bedroom door wide open. He had locked it from the inside and crawled out the window the last time that he was here, taking the spare key with him. It was still tucked away safely in his wallet. His breathing stuttered when he realized that the doorknob had been taken off completely. 

“I need it for work. What did you do with it?” Austin tried to school the deep southern accent out of his voice. He got into the habit of doing that around his father from a young age, desperately wanting to seem as different from the old man as possible. 

“If that’s what yer here for, don’ bother. I sold it.” The young adult’s heart sank to his ass, and this time he didn’t hesitate in ripping his wrist out of the man’s hand. 

“To who? Where is it?” Austin questioned heatedly, staring daggers into the old man’s face. 

The sandy haired man was staring back at the television now, watching old reruns of some shitty old Western movie that must have come out in the sixties. He didn’t answer Austin, too drunk to care and too high to listen. 

“Dad!” Austin’s deep voice boomed, echoing around the filthy trailer. “Where the fuck did you take it? The pawn shop off’a Assembly Street?” That was where his father often sold stolen shit for a few extra bucks. 

That got the other man’s attention. He didn’t take kindly to being yelled and cursed at, especially not by his son. He could always deal it out, but refused to take it. Ray Butler had stopped beating on his son during his Junior year in highschool though, realizing that the boy was now bigger than him. Out of a cowardly fear for his own safety, he stuck to the emotional abuse instead, which only got worse once he didn’t have a true outlet for his frustrations. Austin bristled as he watched the old man glare up at him, taking a long swig from his beer before answering. 

“I took it to Keith’s. If ya needed it so bad, why the hell didn’t you take it with ya in the first place? It’s in my house, so I can do whatever the fuck I want with it.” It was surprising how coherent the man was, especially since he must have been drinking all day long. 

Austin’s father hadn’t had a job in the last seven years, but still managed to scrape by somehow. He was a petty thief whose criminal record stretched all the way back into his boyhood. He had raised the blonde to be the exact same way, but the only thing Austin had truly adopted from his “teachings” was a shared hatred for cops and a scrappy sort of resourcefulness. The other kids that he was forced to interact with at school were the ones that taught him how to fight. They enjoyed taking turns trying to beat the shit out of the town’s poor kid, but once he finally hit his growth spurt in the summer after sixth grade the roles were largely reversed. Nobody messed with him by the time that he had entered high school. He was feared by his peers and just as hated. 

The negative image that he had created served him well though. Not only had he made a name for himself, he had also gained the ability to protect his best friend, which was the only thing he really cared about. Getting the dog shit knocked out of him was one thing, but seeing boys and girls teasing her was a different story. He remembered storming into the girl’s bathroom during his junior year very vividly, yanking up one of popular blonde’s by the back of her shirt. 

“I’m a Butler, so don’t think that I’m above hittin’ a girl.” 

He’d constantly ask you if the bullying persisted even after that, but you always went out of your way to tell him that they had stopped their teasing. Austin was made fun of because he lived in a trailer that should have been condemned long since they originally moved in and barely had enough money to get school supplies every year, but you were picked on because you were perfect. It didn’t make any sense to him, but girls are strange creatures. You made good grades, was the nicest person he had ever met without even trying, and your natural good looks made matters even worse for you. Getting the mean girls to steer clear of you wasn’t the hard part, but keeping the male pervert’s away was an entirely different story. 

It didn’t help that after a long day of putting up with the constant glares, rumors, and telling boys to back off, he’d be forced to come home to incessant tongue lashings. He barely had time to study after taking care of the forty year old drunkard, hence his rotten grades in school. You could only do his homework for him so many times, but hey- you tried. He graduated because of you, at the very least. 

He had landed a job as a mechanic straight out of high school, having been skilled for his age. Who knew that driving a shitty lemon of a car that he constantly had to fix up would lead to a career? He had gotten lucky, which was a rarity in his life. 

Getting his own place was one hell of an achievement, but his past always found a way to come back and haunt him. 

Austin stormed through the connected kitchen and down the hall, sucking in a deep breath before he entered the room. All of the boxes that he had stacked in the corner had been ransacked and picked clean. It was Austin’s fault for thinking that a simple locked door would keep his father out. The blonde could scream over his stolen Iron Maiden and Dio tapes later, for now he needed to focus on the important thing: his tools. 

“You sold them to your crackhead dealer? For what? A bag, right? That was over a hundred dollars worth’a tools!” He screamed from the backroom, kicking an old wooden chair that had been junking up his old room for ages. The thing went flying, hitting the opposite wall with a resounding cracking noise. 

Austin was covered in car oil, smelled like gasoline and sweat after a long day of work, and all he had wanted was to slip in the trailer undetected and grab his things. He had hoped that his father would have been passed out in his room by now so that he could have been in and out without being forced to converse. Nothing ever seemed to go his way. The blonde reached for the metal baseball bat that he still had stuffed under his childhood bed, knocking it against his boot a few times before storming out of the room, pushing past his father and heading straight for the front door. 

“Austin, wait,” The male knew what was coming. The only time his father ever referred to him by his name was when he wanted something. “Can you give me twenty dollars? I need’a pay the power.” 

The baseball bat felt heavy in his hand. He balanced the weight for a second, his jaw clicking as he imagined just how good it would feel to bring it down on top of the other man’s head. If Ray ended up dead, he was sure that he could blame it on a handful of people who he had stolen from or cheated. Austin didn’t need that on his conscience though. So instead of barking back a reply or even pulling out his wallet, he yanked his hand away with a grunt, storming out the door. 

“Jus’ use the money that you got from sellin’ all’a my shit.” He called out before slamming the door behind him, the small and dingy diamond shaped window vibrating with the force of his anger. 

“Is your mama home? If not then I’m gonna use your shower.” Austin gently pushed his way into the house, kicking off his dirty work boots before bounding up the familiar carpeted stairs. 

You blinked in the entryway, slowly closing the front door before turning around to watch him go, the chain from his wallet jingling with his movement. With a small sigh you locked it behind you, following up after him. 

“Well hello to you too.” You teased, watching him open up the linen closet so that he could grab a towel. He was caked with grease, his sun kissed cheeks speckled with black and gray. His black work shirt fit snugly on his form, having shrunk in the wash. At his hip, swinging around with every step that he took, was his black handkerchief. It was also wrecked with engine grease, having been used to clean his hands one too many times that day. He looked devilishly handsome, but he always did. Nothing new. 

“Sorry. Really bad day. Just got back from Keith’s place- he had some of the shit that I left at my dad’s.” He left the bathroom door open as he slipped off his socks, then hurriedly took his shirt off and threw that into the dirty clothes hamper. His small apartment didn’t have a washer and dryer hookup, so he had been doing his laundry at your place for the last two months. 

You didn’t mind, and your mother and father hadn’t noticed either. You sucked at your teeth, turning around to give him privacy. You heard the shower turn on, then the familiar clanking of his chain wallet hitting the side of the sink. Once you heard the shower curtain open and close you turned around, seeing the room empty, his dirty clothes piled neatly in the hamper. You closed the bathroom door behind you as you stepped inside, jumping up on the counter so that you could swing your legs back and forth as you spoke. He seemed frustrated, and you could tell that he needed to talk about it. 

Growing up in a tragically tiny town meant that everybody was always in each other’s business. From preschool to your senior year in high school, every moment was spent with the same exact children. You could count the newer families to move into the small community over the last five years on one hand. Life was slow moving in the old south, and things were horrifically monotonous. You and the blonde had been stuck together like glue ever since primary school, and you didn’t see it changing in the future. 

To say that you knew Austin like the back of your hand was an understatement. Every flaw, quirk and triumph had either been discovered by you, with you at his side, or involved you in some way. In a town filled with mostly elderly folks, kids often found a group of likeminded people and stuck with them for the entirety of their lives. It was horribly predictable of the two of you, yet here you two were, connected at the hip. The bond between you and Austin went above just being best friends. It was something tied to your soul. It wasn’t just hard to imagine a life without him in it, rather it was impossible. 

He didn’t have to tell you that he was angry for you to know that he was beyond aggravated. The restlessness was plain to see. Whether he would be upfront and tell you about the reason or not, you could tell that he needed someone to just sit and listen. Austin wasn’t the kind of person to talk in depth about the things that really upset him. He was more of the “suffer in silence until I inevitably blow up” type. You, on the other hand, weren’t afraid to whine and cry to him about even the slightest of inconveniences. The two of you were polar opposites, and yet it just worked. 

“Keith let you in the house?” You asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow as you watched the steam beginning to curl up and over the curtain. 

Austin let out a humorless laugh, and you could imagine him shaking his head back and forth. You smiled despite the situation, bringing your hand up to your mouth so that you could bite down on your thumb nail. You instantly regretted it, pulling away to see that you had already chipped your freshly painted fingers. 

“A’course he didn’t. I broke into the fucker’s place. Got my tool box back, but the damn thing had been ransacked already. The bones picked clean. I’m out over fifty dollars in tools- checked it once I got back into the car.” 

“Jesus- did he see you? That guy is absolutely insane.” Thankfully, you’d only met the man in passing a handful of times. He was the crazy townee that everybody knew and feared. Keith was the kind of person that you point out to your developing teens to scare them away from drugs and alcohol. “If you don’t want to end up like Ole’ Keith, you better not touch that stuff.” He had a bunch of handmade signs outside of his house with bible scriptures on them, meanwhile the man was dealing meth and coke to make a living. As was the deep south, filled to the brim with religious and moral hypocrisies. 

Either you were a devout Christian or just another local crackhead. Thankfully, you and Austin didn’t fall into either of those categories. You seemed to have made one of your own over the years. 

“He wasn’t home. His truck was gone. The dude left his bedroom window unlocked, so I just ripped the screen off.” 

You used to worry for Austin on a daily basis. The burns and bruises he’d come to school with broke your heart, but no matter how many times you begged your parents to let the blonde come and live with you, they always let you down. You were happy that he finally had somewhere safe to lay his head at night, though he still hadn’t broken the habit of spending most of his down time with you (and you prayed he wouldn’t ever grow out of that habit). As soon as he got off work he was making his way up to your bedroom, often dead tired down to his bones or pissed off. Your parents were gone most of the time anyway though. Your father was a hotshot business man who was away for work most of the time, and your mother insisted on following along with him after the “incident” that happened when you were twelve.

Men who spend most days without their wives and children breathing down their neck usually take advantage of the opportunity. Your father was no different. He was no saint. Then again, neither was your mother. She took most of her frustration out on you after that, and though you knew that her outbursts weren’t a direct cause of anything that you had personally done, that didn’t make it any better. 

Austin was just as much your therapist as you were his. Maybe that was the cause for your codependency. . . either way, neither of you regretted it. It only strengthened the bond, really. 

After Austin was showered and dressed in an outfit that he had left at your house some weeks ago, the two of you found yourselves sprawled out on your bed. You were busy finishing up some homework for one of your classes, and he was reading one of your magazines. He had his head hanging off the side of the mattress, ankles crossed up on one of your pillows. His wet hair was dripping onto your floor. The constant droplets hitting your outdated shag carpet lulled the two of you into a comfortable silence. The two of you didn’t need to talk 

“Where’s a newer one? This one’s a year old.” He suddenly dropped what he was reading onto the floor next to his head, sitting up so that he could face you again. 

You scrunched up your nose, dropping your psychology textbook beside you. 

“That is the newer one.” You told him, to which he scooped it up and off of the floor, turning it over and pointing at the date. 

He was right. It was old. 

It was the June twenty-first issue, the date clear to see on the front: nineteen eighty-four. Bob Dylan was posed on the front in all of his tambourine-man glory. 

“Shit. Sorry, Aus. I thought I handed you the Beatles Anniversary edition.” You started to stand up, but he waved you off. 

“I should probably get going anyway. I have to try to cook myself something. If I don’t eat now then I’ll jus’ go to bed hungry.” 

You had hoped that the two of you could order pizza tonight, but you kept your mouth shut. Lately you found yourself clinging to him a little bit harder than usual. Maybe it was the stress of your sophomore year in college, but you couldn’t be certain. You tried to school the disappointment off of your face as you nodded, standing up to walk him back to the front door. 

“Are we still driving down to see Dave’s show? His band sucks, but he’ll be disappointed if we miss it.” He asked you at the front door, shoving his sock clad feet into his work boots and tying them up haphazardly. 

You slapped your forehead with the palm of your hand, eyes wide. You’d completely forgotten about your friend’s show tomorrow. You’d planned to stay after class and study in the library, but you didn’t mind cramming for next week's test. Austin laughed, the sound causing you to smile to yourself. His laugh was deep, rich and completely contagious. He reached out, his large hand wrapping around your wrist to pull your hand away from your face. 

“You forgot, didn’t you?” He leaned down so that he was at your height, his smile practically blinding. 

You sucked in a breath, but nodded your head anyway. It was hard not to notice his beauty in moments like this. He’d always been handsome, but lately you’d been looking a little too closely at that. A sick twinge of guilt soured your stomach, a feeling of what could only be categorized as “betrayal” causing your face to flush. He was your best friend, and if he knew that you were looking at him like that he would probably be disgusted with you. Hell, you were horrified by your own thoughts recently. You tried to blame the odd feelings on your long-standing lack of romance, but you were starting to believe that was just an excuse.

“I completely forgot.” And you felt bad about it. You’d been so busy with your school work, the recent fight that you had with your mother and. . . well. . . Austin. You cleared your throat softly, kicking at an imaginary pebble on the tiled floor to try and distract yourself. 

Austin seemed to notice the change in attitude and put his hand on the top of your head, ruffling your hair in the way that he knew you despised. He chuckled when you slapped his hand away, instead moving his hand to the base of your neck so that he could pull your much smaller form against his in a tight hug. He’d always been lean and tall, but his physically demanding job had caused his muscles to fill out. He felt warm and strong, smelling of your shampoo. 

“I’ll drive us tomorrow, alright? Maybe you can get some studying done in the car.” And with that he removed his arms from around you. 

You felt the loss of his warmth like a slap in the face. You let him go though, watching as he bounded down the steps towards his van, his keys jingling in his hand with the movement. He was in higher spirits after spending a few hours in your presence. He felt lighter, like some of the crushing weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. You leaned against the doorframe, peeking your head out just to watch him. 

“I love you! Drive home safe, alright?” You called out. 

Austin couldn’t fight off the blush that raised to his ears, but he turned around and quickly returned the sentiment. You had told him that you loved him every day, but his heart still pounded like it had the very first time. Only these days he wished that you really meant it. 

That you loved him the same way that he loved you. 

[ronwestbreeze]

TO YOU , WORLDS AWAY | PART ONE : CHAPTER ONE

pairing: jake sully x human!fem!reader

summary: in which the story starts and finds you in a place of malevolence. a reluctant return to hell's gate leads you to meeting jake sully

warnings: none!

word count: 3.6k

author's note: finally posting this! there's no schedule for how i'm going to release these but i hope to be at least consistent! just no demanding me to post the next chapter or to finish, that doesn't help much with writing. anyways, hope you guys enjoy!

italics is speaking in na'vi

AO3 | masterlist | next

Powder covered your hands by the time the radio next to you came to life. Last time that radio came on, Dr. Grace Augustine had, very heatedly, called on you to fix one of the link units. Some genius had thought it was a good idea to kick at it in anger, knocking a few wires loose. Didn’t do any real damage but that guy never slipped into another link unit again. He’d have Grace to thank for that. And his temper.

That had been months ago. You hadn’t been back in Hell’s Gate since then.

Surprisingly enough, it was Trudy. “Hey, Doc. Mind comin’ to look at one of the computers in the lab? I think one of those science geeks broke a monitor or somethin’.”

Without looking up from your work, you reply, “Then buy a new one. My job is to fix shit, not consult about some stupid monitor.”

There were muffled voices further away as the radio cut in and out a few times. Seconds later, Trudy finally spoke again, “Uh, my bad, it’s not a monitor. It’s some….uh…power box, I guess. Glitched out on the geeks, now they don’t have power in a few of the computers.”

It took a moment for you to respond. Both because of the weak radio signal in the middle of the forest and because you had to take a few moments to program your newly robotic arm helper to finish off your new invention, which you had been working on for nearly half a year now. Project Pandora is what you called it.

“Trudy,” you finally say, picking up the radio and pushing the chair away from the desk and toward the small window on the other side of the little space, “why are you, a pilot no less, asking me about computers in a lab?”

There is a hesitant silence on the other end. But after listening closely, you realized there was another muffled conversation going on further away, one that the radio couldn’t really pick up.

Eventually, Trudy’s voice reached the radio again. “I told you she’d see right through it.” It sounded as if she was talking to someone and that someone was muttering something further away from the radio. Trudy sighed before continuing, “Look, Doc. I’m gonna be blunt with you. Parker’s too much of a pussy to do it himself so he got me in here to reach you.”

You clicked your tongue, “Why am I not surprised.”

“He’s scared of you.”

“More than Grace?”

There were louder muffles, almost audible if not for the static from the radio. “Parker wants you back at the gate…and to tell you that he’s not scared of you.”

After a while, the radio finally cut off and you sat there. Outside the little window was the forest of Pandora, your view for the past few months. And really, you would like to keep it that way from now on. Being away from Hell’s Gate has brought you a sense of peace and a sense of forgetting. Although, the forgetting was harder said than done.

No matter what you did, there was nothing that could make you forget what these humans were doing to Pandora, what they planned to do, what they already had done. It was a bunch of bullshit really. The RDA complained that they weren’t making any progress with the Na’vi, the people of  Pandora, while at the same time attacking them and threatening to take over the land by wiping out the indigenous.

You had come here to learn about this species and quite possibly one day live among them, not take over. Which is why you separate yourself from Hell’s Gate after the incident. But it seemed no matter what you did to keep away from them, somehow you were always brought back in.

It had to be him behind it. That man was stubborn enough to keep you in his control just as you were stubborn enough to find any way to stay far away from that place.

“Doc?” Trudy’s voice came in through the radio. With a frown, you looked back at your robotic arm and the invention, deep in thought. “You there?”

With a sigh, you replied, “There’s no other engineers up there? Mechanics?”

“Most of them are workin’ on those AMPs. Parker wants you. The best of the best, you know?”

You frown, “Doesn’t sound as great as it did years ago.”

“Don’t think too much about it. You’ll be in and out. Then you’ll get to go back to your little lab in the woods and stay secluded like the hermit that you are.” Trudy teased in an attempt to lighten your mood. And you did try to smile at the joke, just a little bit, but the thought about going back, about stepping your foot back into that place, somehow he’d win.

“I could say no.” You try, even though you were getting up and sliding your boots on. “Tell him to find some other unfortunate engineer to do his shit.”

“You could.” Trudy agreed. “That would definitely make Parker pop a vein. But if we sent in someone else that isn’t you, it sure as hell wouldn’t get done quickly or right. So there’s that.”

“Hmm, I’d say let them rot.” You grumble as you grab your mask and place it on your face.

Trudy laughed on the other end as you stepped out of the lab. The air was fresh on your skin but poisonous to your lungs. Still, it did feel somewhat nice stepping out of your stuffy lab for once. Being surrounded by beautiful forest. The beauty of Pandora still never failed to amaze you despite your grim attitude as of lately. There was something so special about this planet, something you never felt on your home planet, Earth.

You just wished the circumstances were different.

“You’re a genius, Doc.” Parker praised as you closed the power box.

“Is that all?” You asked dryly, rolling your sleeve back down as you began leaving the dark room.

The administrator followed after you as you sauntered through the halls, ready to go back to the forest and your private lab. “Yeah, well, I believe that should be all. I knew you could do it the best too, my guys are useless when it comes to this stuff.”

“Stop kissing ass, Selfridge.” Both you and Parker turned to find Grace waltzing down the hall toward the two of you. A smirk was on her lips when her eyes landed on you. “Tinkers! Never thought I’d see you come out of your little hole. How long has it been? Three? Four months?”

Despite where you were, you gave a small smile, “Hi Grace.”

Parker excused himself immediately much to your relief, going back to his usual spot, which was overseeing all the link units of the Avatar Program. You raised your brows at how quickly he left but you figured it was mostly because he didn’t want to hear Grace go on and on about the beauties of Pandora. Parker was the type of guy who only cared about what profited him the most. And the last thing he wanted to hear was how innocent everything was. Would make him lose track of the most important goal.

And for that, you despised that man. Parker must’ve sensed your dislike for him and found it intimidating, especially when it came to calling on you for favors such as fixing an electric power box.

Behind her were three other men. One of which you knew by Dr. Patel, the other two you guessed were new.

Grace crossed her arms, not bothering to introduce the two other males behind her as she spoke in a lowered voice, “Coming back this time around?”

You shook your head, “No. Just here for a small fixer upper. I should be heading back soon actually.”

“You sure?” Grace then gestured to the two behind her, giving you an exasperated look, “Could really use someone familiar out there. To the land and the people.” You didn’t respond right away which the scientist noticed. “Forget about Quaritch, you know you want to get back out there. Your avatar’s waiting—”

“Who's the newbies?” You addressed Dr. Patel, earning a glare from Grace at your efforts of quickly changing the conversation. It was something you definitely weren’t going to discuss here and especially in front of the new people who were watching the two of you a little too closely for your liking.

Dr. Patel smiled at you in greeting before gesturing to the two other men. “This is Norm Spellman, our new biologist for the team. Fellas, this is Dr. Y/N L/N, our best engineer at RDA.”

The tall lanky one stepped forward and offered his hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Doctor, I’ve actually heard a lot about your work here. Well, your mother’s work, I should say.” Grace rolled her eyes as you tried not to wince at the mention of your mother. But of course, Norm didn’t notice and kept going, “Also, very sorry for your loss. Your mother was a brilliant mind, the best of our kind—”

“Alright, Spellman.” Grace gave him a pointed look before nodding over to the man in the wheelchair, “You remember Tom Sully? Well, this is his worse half, Jake Sully. He’s unfortunately replacing Tom in the program.”

“Thank you for that, Gracie.” Jake retorted just as quickly.

“Fuck off.” Grace glared and nudged your side. “Ignore him, I do.”

Yes, you did hear about this. Tom’s unfortunate death led them to scramble for a quick replacement. You never met Tom yourself so you never had much of an attachment to him. Neither did Grace but you could tell that wasn’t the only thing annoying her. If you had to guess, Jake was probably drastically different from his late brother and Grace didn’t have much patience for that.

Still, you offered him a kind smile. “Ma’am.” He nodded to you, offering his own hand which you shook.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sully.” You glanced from a pensive Grace to Jake. “I imagine you know a lot about the program similar to your brother.”

Jake tilted his head, “I watched a Netflix special once.”

Grace scowled, Dr. Patel coughed to cover a smile, and Norm shifted on his feet awkwardly, watching the two of them.

You found yourself grinning for the first time in a while., “I don’t know, Augustine. I kind of like him. “

Grace rolled her eyes, “Whatever. We’re heading over to the link units. It’s about time the two of you get acquainted with your avatar form.” She then addressed you but in Na’vi surprisingly. “And when will you bring out yours? Don’t try to change the subject this time, Tinkers.”

Feeling Jake’s curious and confused gaze on the two of you, you answer in a quick hiss, “Drop it.” Then you turned to Jake and smiled, “S’ nice to meet you, Mr. Sully—”

“Jake.” He nodded toward you with a little smile of his own. “You can call me Jake.”

Your smile grew, “Alright, Jake. Welcome to Pandora.” She pointed at Grace with her thumb, “Don’t let her ruin the experience, yeah? She can be a little twitchy sometimes.”

“Go back to your hole, Tinkers!” Grace called over her shoulder as she continued down  the hall with Norm and Dr. Patel following after her.

“Right up your ass, Augustine!” You shot back with a smirk before sending Jake a wink.

Jake, despite his previous stoic expression, found himself grinning at you. “Nice to meet you, L/N.”

“Y/N.” You corrected, moving around him to head the opposite direction. “Or Doc, either way, don’t be so formal. Especially with me.”

He nodded, “I’ll make sure to remember that.”

With that, you watched as he rolled away in the direction the others went. Once the company was gone, your shoulders sagged a bit, slightly exhausted from the small interaction and because of the busy environment of Hell’s Gate as you made your way out of it.

Just as you were about to reach outside and grab your mask, one of the soldiers, Wainfleet, blocked your exit while sitting in one of those AMPs.

“Doc! Leaving so soon?” He grinned down at you.

“Move, dipshit.” You say bluntly, gripping the mask in your hands while glaring up at him.

He shrugged, grinning cockily down at her. “Can’t do that, Doc. Colonel heard you crawled out of your little hole you’ve been hiding in the past few months. He wants to see you.”

“Tell him to eat shit, ya know, like in all the messages I replied to.”

When you tried going around him, he stepped in your way, aggravating you more.

“Look, cupcake. We could either do this the easy way or the hard way. Easy way, you go and see Colonel yourself or hard way I drag your tiny ass over there.”

At this point, the more you gripped at the mask, the more it was possible it could break in your grasp. So you hooked your mask back onto your belt, seething eyes never leaving Wainfleet. It was possible to shut down the AMPs in your current height. You’d done it before but it was with someone who lacked experience controlling those things.

Wainfleet on the other hand was often training himself in them, which would lead to a more difficult and quite possible deadly attempt at escape.

Which meant, unfortunately, you didn’t have much of a choice.

With your dignity burying itself into the ground, you followed Wainfleet further into the Armor Bay where multiple more AMPs were lined up along with the ships and planes the pilots controlled.

When you arrived at the small gym room where Quaritch was currently benching, Wainfleet left you alone but you didn’t move to further enter the room. All you did was scowl and stand in the doorway with crossed arms, waiting for him to acknowledge you.

And you knew he knew you were there.

“I was wondering when we’d get the chance to talk again.” Quaritch finally said, putting down the weights as he sat up. He grabbed a towel next to him and began wiping the sweat off his sweat. “Are you finally done with your tantrum?”

He wanted you to snap, rise to the provoking. But you remained silent, your jaw clenching just a bit as your eyes narrowed in on him. Quaritch was watching you closely as well, probably waiting for you to react.

“Ah, the silent treatment. Guess I should’ve expected that too.” He threw the towel to the side before looking up at you with a smirk. “Thought you made a vow never to set foot in here again. Made a whole dramatic scene about it too—”

“What do you want?” You ask simply.

Quaritch now scowled at your indifference or rather rebellion, you couldn’t really tell. “I want you to get your act together. I don’t have time for you throwing fits like a child because you don’t get your way. This is a mission, Doc, and your job is to—”

“My job was to help the people.” You hissed, stepping only a few feet into the room. “To build a connection with them. That was your orders. That’s what you asked me to do. And what does the RDA do? Fuck it all up by shooting a bunch of Na’vi, leaving them for dead!”

Quaritch rolled his eyes, “You’re still on that?”

You seethed, “You don’t even understand what you did! You would think thinking smartly would crossed your thick fucking skull—”

“That’s enough from you!” He barked in his Colonel voice. “Disrespect me like that again and I will boot you right off of this planet as fast as I got you on it, you hear me?”

“Do it then.” You challenged, hands shaking from anger. “You’ve had plenty of times to get rid of me. If you find me so much of a problem, why am I still here?”

You half expected him to keep shouting at you, yell at you into submission like he does his subordinates. But instead, Quaritch chuckled as he stood up. “Moments like this, you remind me of your father. Good man, acted just like you. Which was what made him the best soldier. Which made him a good captain.”

He was changing the conversation, he was trying to have power over you without being forthright about it. He had done this before whenever you tried arguing, it was his way of shutting you down without getting into a fight.

“You’re a smart cookie, Doc. And I know you’re smart enough to realize your value to this team. To the program.” He flashed his white teeth at you. “You and I both know I can’t get rid of you that easily. And I won’t. I made a vow after all.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, wondering just where this conversation was going. Every time he brought up that damned vow it usually was followed by something for her to do. A favor. Something to keep her distracted.

“So let’s put the whole past to rest—”

“I rather not—” Quaritch cut you off just as fast as you did.

“And focus on the current future. Have you met Corporal Sully?”

You frown, suddenly remembering Jake’s charming smile. “What, he’s your new little puppet now?”

Quaritch wasn’t phased by the comment as he sat back down on the bench, “He’s got promise that kid. I tasked him to get to know the Na’vi people and learn their ways, to gain information for me.” You scoffed in disbelief as he continued. “Since you’re so well versed in their culture, I want you to give him some pointers. A tutor if you will.”

“Like hell I will—”

“And yes, you can decline.” Quaritch began lifting the weights again, “And then the RDA can take your little secluded lab away, destroying everything you’ve worked on. I’m sure that would be smart.”

This was where you had to control yourself. Your reaction. Your anger. You remembered a certain project that you were just nearly done with. Something you had been working on dedicatedly ever since the incident. If Quaritch or any of the RDA were to discover it, you were sure you would be exiled back to Earth.

Or quite possibly killed.

“What do you say, kid?” Quaritch noticed your silence.

With a scowl, you gritted out, “Fine.”

From the bench, the Colonel grinned, “Good girl! Now we can really get to work!” He placed the weight back down and stood, “Let’s go tell Sully the good news.”

When arriving in the link room, you lingered behind while Quaritch approached one of the link beds that was just opening. Jake happened to be in that one as he sat up, immediately spotting the Colonel walking toward him.

“Sir.” Jake greeted, briefly glancing your way for a moment longer before turning back to the Colonel.

Quaritch nodded in greeting and gestured to you, “I assume you’ve already met, Dr. L/N, the best of the best in the Avatar Program.”

“What do you want, Quaritch?” Grace cut in as she pushed open her own link bed. She noticed the angered look on your face and raised her brows, silently questioning you.

“She’s going to be showing the ins and outs of the Na’vi, she’ll give you some pointers to better prepare yourself for the program.” Quaritch winked as he clapped his hand on your shoulder. “You do best following her lead, might keep you alive, Corporal.”

Jake nodded, eyes alight, “Will do, sir.”

Quaritch’s grip on your shoulder tightened, “Take care of our boy, will you, Doc.”

Carefully, you reply, “He’s in good hands…sir.”

Grace narrowed her eyes at you while Jake frowned, finally noticing your change in behavior compared to your earlier brighter demeanor.

Satisfied, Quaritch gave you another rough pat on your back before leaving you with Grace, Jake, and as soon as he came out of his link bed, Norm.

“Tinkers.” Grace brought your attention back to her. She gave you a meaningful look before speaking in Na’vi, “What happened?”

Instead of responding to her, you nodded toward the three with an impassive expression, “I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

You needed some time away, to calm down, to reevaluate some things. If only you had left as quickly as you had planned to, none of this would have occurred. You wouldn’t be feeling so helpless right now as you stalked through the halls, practically glaring at everything around you. At this rate, you wished that bastard dropped you back on Earth. At least you would be far away from this shit.

“Hey, Doc!”

A part of you wanted to just keep going and ignore Jake Sully when he called for you. But you stopped anyway despite yourself and turned to find him rolling toward you.  He stopped a few feet away from you, frowning at your guarded behavior. “I know I’m not well informed about all of this the way you’d like but I’m sure I can catch on fast—”

“Let’s get one thing very clear, Sully. I know you’re working with Quaritch. I know you’re planning on lying to them, gaining information for him to use or whatever the hell he’s planning. I don’t want any part of it.” You shoved your hands into your pants pockets glaring at the surprised man. “You’ve aligned yourself with a dangerous man, Sully. I hope you understand what you’re doing here.”

Just as you turned to walk away, Jake called out to you again, “So is that your advice then? As my tutor?”

 “No. Not all of it.” You glanced over your shoulder at him and shrugged, “Try not to die, Jake.”

taglist: @luvvfromme @sully-stick-together @dazedshoon

[priceof-freedom]

Fanfic: Of gym buddies and overlapping schedules (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x F!Reader (Top Gun: Maverick)

Summary:  You considered your alone time in the gym sacred, and made sure that you don’t run into any of the cocky aviators. When your schedule inadvertently overlapped with theirs one day and you encountered a sweet bespectacled WSO, you found yourself unconsciously changing your gym schedule to match his. (... but was it really unconscious though?)

A/N: This is my first attempt at a Top Gun fanfic! Hoping you’d all be kind. 💖 Our boy Bob needs more love!

Please excuse any incorrect use of navy ranks, terms, etc. I looked up how hospital corpsmen in the Navy are addressed, and my cursory research tells me the colloquial term is “Doc”. You are free to let me know how to properly use them and I will gladly make corrections! 

Not beta-read, so errors are entirely my own.

Warnings: Pure fluff and Soft!Bob. With allusions to smut.

Word Count: 3.3k

TOP GUN: MAVERICK MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

One of the many perks of working at the naval base is the fully stocked gym. All those soldiers don’t get to maintain that kind of physique without the proper tools. Ironically, that in itself is the biggest pitfall of the supposed perk. Most hours of the day found the base gym crowded, and it was difficult to find space in that packed room. You considered your time in the gym sacred and as much as possible, you’d like to go about your business alone. After much trial and error, you finally found the optimal time to exercise with only a handful of people there.

You unfortunately found out the hard way that if you truly wanted to steer clear of the arrogance that followed pilots wherever they went, there was only a narrow window of time to do so. One day, you had miscalculated your schedule by just a half an hour, and the latter half of your gym time was unfortunately overrun by said pilots.

As you were finishing up a set with the free weights, you could sense a presence behind you. You glanced at the mirror and caught a glimpse of someone tall and blonde with a smirk on his face observing you. You sighed quietly to yourself and hoped that he would just let you exercise in peace.

“Hey,” called out the blonde, just as you returned the weights on the rack. Maybe you could use your earphones as an excuse not to have heard him, you thought. Tough luck for you, though: the moment you turned around, he had already invaded your personal space.

“Haven’t seen you around here,” he said in what was presumably a flirtatious manner. “You new?”

You definitely weren’t; you’ve been working in the medical bay for quite some time. In fact, you were around longer than the aviators who came and went with the training program. You were pretty sure that some of the aviators knew you, especially those you treated personally. But there was just a special breed of them who seemed to be unaware of anyone else around them. Honestly, you might have actually found him attractive (you had eyes), but his aura was just off-putting.

“Back off, Hangman,” came another voice, and it was one that you recognized. It was from Lt. Bradshaw, one of the aviators you were friendly with.

“I wasn’t doing anything!” replied the blonde, apparently called Hangman. “I was just welcoming the newbie here.”

“She isn’t new here, you ass,” retorted Lt. Bradshaw. He shoved Hangman a little out of your way, acknowledged you with a nod and said, “Doc.”

“Doc?” questioned Hangman in confusion.

Peering at his shirt to get the pilot’s name, you said, “Hospital corpsman, Lt. Seresin.” You didn’t even bother to see what his reaction was and started collecting your belongings. No way were you doing your cooling down and stretching in the gym anymore, not with this Hangman hanging around. It had to be done elsewhere, probably in the office. With a nod of acknowledgment of your own towards Lt. Bradshaw, you made a beeline to the exit.

“I’m not even getting a name, sweetheart?” called Hangman from behind you.

“You don’t deserve it, Seresin!” you called back. “And don’t you dare give it to him, Bradshaw!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Doc!” answered Lt. Bradshaw with a laugh. The sound of their bickering voices started to fade away as you exited the gym. 

As much as it was unfair to box people into stereotypes, it just seemed that way with all the men you encountered in your job. It was simply par for the course, being one of the very few women in the male dominated field, especially one where many of them are the supposed top 1%. There were definitely those who did not fall into that box, like Lt. Bradshaw, but they seem to be few and far between. If there were more of them out there in the base, you have yet to run into them.

In your haste to leave the gym, you hadn’t been paying enough attention to where you were headed so you roughly collided with someone as you turned the corner. You were at the disadvantage in terms of height, which sent you tumbling to the floor.

“Oh jeez, I’m so sorry!” came a frantic, yet soft voice. Looking up, you were greeted with a wide-eyed bespectacled face that was laced with concern.

“I, uh—” you started, but suddenly found yourself at a loss for words. You couldn’t help but be distracted by the man before you.

“Gosh, I’m sorry,” he apologized again. Some of your stuff had fallen to the floor, and he was scrambling to pick them up. “I di-didn’t see you coming— that’s my bad though… sh-should’ve watched where I was going.” 

He was definitely someone you haven’t seen around. He didn’t strike you as the type of person who made himself known, unlike others you’ve encountered. If his rambling was any indication of how he was like, it seemed like you just found someone else who didn’t fit into that box.

You had thankfully found your ability to speak again and said, “No no, it’s my fault! I was rushing out—”

He had already gotten up and extended a hand, which you gladly took. He smiled sheepishly and you got a good look at his kind face. And oooh boy what a face it was. He was striking in his own boyish way, with the perfectly styled hair and the arrestingly blue eyes.

You wanted to ask so many things: what his name was, what he did around the base, if he was going to work out in the gym… but again, words seemed to have failed you. You must have been staring at him for quite a while, looking quite foolish, as he was shifting his feet uncomfortably.

“Right, w-well,” he said, clearing his throat. “Sorry again, and I’ll just ah— h-head inside.” With an awkward wave and pointing in the direction of the gym, he left.

Good job, scolding yourself. You didn’t even get his name and you had no idea what he was. Sighing in disappointment, you had no other choice but to leave and head back to the office.

“Ugh shit.”

Hours later, as the workday was ending, you discovered that your earphones were missing. It was most likely back in the gym, and you just hoped that it was still there. Otherwise, you were out another pair of earphones twice in just the last six months. You were looking forward to leaving the base as soon as possible and resting in your own place, but now a detour appears to be necessary. It was better to look for it now, you reasoned to yourself, instead of tomorrow, as it would be more likely to be gone by then.

Grabbing your bag, you opened the door to the medical bay, only to collide yet again with someone. 

And as it turned out, it was the same someone as earlier this morning.

You found yourself again face to face with the bespectacled man from earlier this morning, the same sheepish smile on his face. This time, he was dressed in his uniform: ah, another aviator, you thought.

“Can I help you?” you said with a smile. “I’m headed out, but if you need a quick lookover for something, I can stay for a bit…?” Truth be told, you didn’t want to stay longer than needed… but maybe for this instance, it wouldn’t be such a bother.

“Uh— i-it’s not anything medical,” he said. “I’m not injured, or anything.”

“Oh?” you perked up.

“Yeah, um… I accidentally took this earlier,” he said, holding up your earphones, the very same ones you were searching for.

Your face lit up instantly. “Oh! I was just looking for this!” you exclaimed gratefully. “Thank you so much, Lt.—”

“Floyd,” he answered. “Or you can just call me Bob.”

“Bob,” you repeated with a smile. Finally, a name to the handsome face. “What about your callsign, pilot?”

“Still just Bob,” he said, seemingly embarrassed. “And I’m uh— a WSO, not strictly a pilot. So yeah…”

“Well, Just Bob, thank you again,” you told him. “I was just looking for these.”

Bob’s features brightened with a sincere smile. “You’re welcome.”

He looked like he was about to awkwardly shuffle away again, but something gave you pause. “Wait,” you blurted to stop him. “You knew who I was? I mean— you knew to come here to return this to me?”

Bob smiled sheepishly again, like a deer caught in the headlights. “Uh— y-yes, ma’am.”

You’d be lying if that did not make butterflies appear in your stomach, and you felt your own cheeks heat up.

“I guess that covers our introductions then,” you said, extending your hand to him. “Nice to meet you, Lt. Floyd.”

“Likewise, ma’am,” said Bob, clasping your hand, his bright smile and blue eyes an image you’ll likely never forget any time soon.

It started unconsciously. That’s what you told yourself for the most part.

Following that first interaction, you stuck to your original schedule for the gym. The preference was still to exercise in relative peace. For some reason, though, you lost track of time and ended up closing the last set much later than usual. You luckily did not encounter any of the specific people you’d rather avoid; instead, you once again ran into Bob, but not quite literally this time.

You were leaving and he was just entering, and he greeted you with a small smile and nod. “Ma’am.”

“Lt. Floyd,” you greeted back, smiling too.

“Call me Bob, please,” he insisted. You agreed, but only if he used your first name as well. Neither of you stayed beyond the pleasantries, but the interaction kept a smile on your face for most of the day.

On the second day, you still started at the same time you normally did. What changed was that you suddenly did not feel the need to keep to the strict time frame originally set. While stretching, you once again sensed another familiar presence nearby. Bob just entered and greeted you, this time not so formally, and you did the same. Like the day prior, it did not extend beyond that and you both went about your own ways.

On the third day, you claimed it was an experiment. You entered the gym later than usual this time. Halfway through your exercise, you were surprised to see that Bob was already there. If you weren’t mistaken, you never encountered him here this early. Your heart skipped a beat at the implication of that, but immediately squashed the thought. It didn’t do you any good to entertain anything of the sort. Instead, you greeted him like you normally did, and so did he. As with the previous days, nothing more happened after that.

For the week that followed, you and Bob had an unspoken agreement about the shared time at the gym. You honestly couldn’t recall who initiated it, but once the wall of simply staying within pleasantries was broken, there was no going back. It was a wonder how the two of you were ever awkward around each other to begin with. You and Bob could talk about anything and everything. You’d trade exercise regimen tips with each other (it didn’t escape your notice that Bob was just as built as the rest of them, but he hid it well). Bob would tell stories of their flight training, the non-confidential details of course. In turn, you’d also share the goings-on in the medical bay, while not as interesting as flying in fighter jets, Bob seemed to be genuinely enthralled. You both discussed your families, motivations for joining the navy, and so many other things.

It was quickly becoming your favorite time of the day. You used to think that your alone time in the gym was sacred, but you found that your time with Bob was even better.

Until one day, he failed to show up.

The clock ticked away, and you had to force yourself not to watch it.

Perhaps he was just running late, you initially thought to yourself. Yet as the minutes flew by, it was becoming clear that he might not be showing up. You had to school your expression into nonchalance, if only outwardly. The rational side insisted that there was no cause to be disappointed, as there was no formal agreement between the two of you. The pilot was not beholden to whatever this was, and neither were you.

Still, that disheartened feeling couldn’t be helped.

You eventually decided to call it in early, as you weren’t even getting a good workout anyway. 

You were about to resign yourself to a mundane day, when you heard your name being called in the distance. Down at the end of the hall was the man you’ve been spending most mornings with, running towards you. He stopped just a few steps away from you, but he looked absolutely spent. His face was red and sweaty and he was completely out of breath. Gasping your name again, he had to prop himself against the wall.

“Bob!” you exclaimed in surprise. Without really thinking about it, you held his face in your hands, checking for any obvious signs that something was terribly wrong. “What’s going on?”

“I—” gasped Bob again, but he was still severely panting.

“Alright, come on, let’s get you checked out,” you said, bringing him inside the medical bay. You guided him to a seat first, and then started grabbing the essential tools. As you moved around to get what you needed, Bob was still attempting to gasp out an explanation. None of it was remotely coherent, but you made out some words like ‘Maverick’, ‘training’, ‘200 push-ups’. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together, and it made sense that Capt. Mitchell would put the aviators through some grueling training. Still though, it wasn’t clear why Bob was compelled to tell you any of this right at this moment.

“Let’s slow down, okay, Bob?” you said calmly and took both his hands in yours. “Breathe with me.” Later on in the day, you’d revisit this moment and think endlessly about the gentleness of his touch, despite his rough hands. Right now, however, that was not at the forefront of your mind. Eventually, Bob had relaxed enough and looked less flushed. 

“So what were you trying to tell me?” you asked softly. It was only then that you noticed how close you really were. His hands were still grasping yours tightly and he was staring down at them. 

“M-Maverick, he—uh… he had us do 200 push-ups for failing the exercise,” said Bob. “I had to do mine this morning and I tried to do it as quickly as possible. But uh— it still made me late for our gym time.”

You stopped breathing momentarily at the use of “our”, and things were starting to click into place.

“I ran first to the gym,” he continued. “But you weren’t there anymore… so I ran here.”

All of the earlier disappointment melted away and your insides were squirming with what was probably delight. Yet, you couldn’t look him in the eyes. You could feel his gaze boring into the top of your head. 

“So yeah, I—I’m sorry,” he said with an almost audible gulp. That made you look up and meet his steely blue eyes.

“Oh Bob,” you said, chuckling softly. “It’s nothing. We still have other days.”

He gripped your hand a little tighter, shaking his head slightly. “How can I make it up to you?” he insisted.

“Well,” you began, pondering your next move. You weren’t entirely sure what had gotten into you: it was probably the relief you felt, or the warmth of his proximity to you, or the softness of his hands in yours, or the intensity of his gaze on you, or the combination of all of it. Whatever it was, it made you brave enough to intertwine your fingers with his. “How about we leave the gym for that?”

Bob’s response made your heart rate quicken: he tightened his fingers around yours and said, “It’s a date.”

Bonus (This was a scene I couldn’t shake from my head, and I figured I should add it anyway!)

You had woken up late today, thus deciding against going to the gym. However, it was clear that soldiers were quite strict with their schedule and not as keen to skip their regimen for whatever reason. So you knew where to find the one person you were looking for.

Entering the gym, it was packed as usual with members of the squadron in varying states of activity. You walked straight through the middle of the throng of people and machines, and your entrance gained the desired effect.

“It’s you again,” said Hangman, trademark smirk on his features.

“Lieutenant,” you greeted with a smile of your own.

“Miss me already?”

“You wish, Seresin,” you scoffed. “I’m actually looking for someone.”

Hangman was relentless, and had it not been part of the plan to get to this point, you might have punched his perfect teeth. “No need to look further, baby,” he announced, with his arms wide open.

“Please ignore him,” said a pilot from behind him, another one you recognized. Lt. Trace unceremoniously slapped Hangman’s arms down and regarded you with a smile. “How can we help?”

“I’m looking for Lt. Floyd,” you said kindly.

“Bob?” said the two lieutenants simultaneously: Hangman incredulously and Phoenix (if you remembered her callsign correctly) mildly surprised.

This caught the attention of the aviator in question, who was in another corner of the gym, minding his own business. He met your eyes, slightly startled, “Y/N?”

“You know her?” said Hangman, still in that incredulous tone, as Bob made his way closer.

You ignored Hangman and focused instead on your kind-faced lieutenant. You handed him his khaki uniform button-up, neatly folded, making sure everyone else knew exactly what it was. “You left in quite a rush this morning, and you forgot this.”

Bob’s cheeks instantly turned pink, and you were certain he was recalling the exact reason why he hadn’t taken his uniform with him in the morning. You had woken up in the middle of the night and, not wanting to go nude into the bathroom, you grabbed the first article of clothing within reach. It just so happened to be his uniform. He must have woken up as well while you were in the bathroom: when he caught sight of you in nothing but his uniform button-up, an intense, almost hungry, look graced his features. Suffice it to say, the two of you lost about another hour or so of rest, and you had fallen asleep after that in blissful exhaustion while still wearing it.

Everyone in the vicinity were shell-shocked, even the others like Lts. Fitch, Garcia, and Machado who joined in on the commotion. Except perhaps for Rooster, as he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying what he was witnessing. Bob himself was quite stunned to silence, and you marveled in how flustered he is now when he was anything but that last night.

“I—y-yeah,” stammered Bob. “T-thanks, Y/N.”

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” you said, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. You didn’t wait for him to answer and simply walked out, your goal having been accomplished already. You heard some laughter from the group and hushed whispers, like a bunch of gossiping teenagers. 

“Always good to see ya, Doc!” called Rooster to your retreating back, the mirth apparent in his voice. While exiting, you saw in the mirrors that he had happily clapped Bob on the shoulder in support, and the latter was sporting a small confident smile. You also caught sight of a still gaping Hangman.

You smiled in satisfaction. You couldn’t wait until you saw Bob again tonight.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I currently don’t run any taglists, but I may reconsider if enough people are interested. Please do leave a comment and reblog.  💖

Check out the other stories in this universe:

A follow-up outtake of this one-shot called “In khaki and nothing more”.

A fluffy drabble on Bob and Reader’s date

A smutty drabble on Bob being called “lieutenant”

A one-shot featuring Rooster and Penny’s niece

A drabble set right before Rooster and Niece!Reader have their date

[interroblog]

I started free writing last week and it tripled my daily word counts so I feel the need to evangelize 👀

I’m in the “figuring out what happens in this story” stage of plotting which is what it’s been really great for, but I can see it helping any time you need to solve problems or get ideas. Here’s the rules I use for myself, hopefully someone else will find it helpful

Write every thought. All of my free writing sessions start with a ramble about how I’m going to start free writing, then I write all the things I could explore until I latch onto one and go.

No thought is too undeveloped. Even if it’s a poorly written sentence fragment or idea about an idea… it might lead to something else, so it goes in.

Chase your ideas! If I’m writing about one idea and I suddenly get another, I’ll just immediately swap to writing about that. I can always finish that other idea later, but I know I’d forget about the new one. It’s easier to remember a half-written idea than a fully unwritten one.

Writing something doesn’t mean I’m going with it. I’ve written down ideas then immediately after added “But I don’t like that because (reason)”. It almost always leads me to writing about another idea that I like a lot more

Basically, it’s not about what you write. It’s about the ideas it leads you to. It’s so helpful for making me get out of my head and solidify thoughts so I can build on them. I’ll put three excerpts from my free writing doc under the cut to show off the different levels of “quality”

“there’s only one bridge into this area, it’s closed for flooding after snow melt. So that’s why they’re stuck in this area. Amp brings them back to his cabin? Doesn’t want to let a bunch of kids sleep outside. There’s two layers to his interactions, the truth that he would die for these fuckers because they are his family- and the lie he’s telling them. It’s the latter I’m trying to figure out.

they first meet him at the gas station, then later [note: here I skipped to the next line to follow a new thought I had, then never went back to finish this one because it connected back anyway]

They’re camping in the woods when they see something tall and inhuman. The moonlight reaches it and they see amp with a torch and a bag (torch??? Who am i) of food, fire starter, and a blanket (given to Saint, who then forces tab to share it with him because he feels awkward. Cuties)

He says he saw their car on the road, it’s march and he didn’t want anyone freezing to death. (There’s the hint that he didn’t just see their car but he knew to be looking for them. He didn’t just happen to have all that stuff on him, after all.)”

“time to free write 500 words real fast cause i wanna get to 2k. What are we working with. I think I’ve got some good stuff right now, it all just needs to fall into place. Let’s see how it goes, listing arcs.

There’s Saint’s arc which i still need to define more, it’s been changing a lot as the story develops which is good!! The goal!! I don’t want to solidify it too much, but it goes”

“let’s see… i really want it to build on itself, and the surgery stuff feels too out of place or like a regression, even though it’s literally the point of the story. Maybe it’s the fact they go home? I could try having the surgery take place in the underground with saint only thinking he’s back at a hospital- but that undermines a lot of the stuff with the parents if it isn’t real”

[barefoothighlander]

Hi! So I'm not the same person that asked for the stubborn and sick reader thats afraid of the doc, but what about either a continuation, or a whole new piece where ghost HELPS the reader overcome their fear of doctors? (SFW please, whether he's nice about it or forceful is up to you! Just wanted some fluff!) 💜

I got you anon, this can be read as a stand alone or a part two to this drabble

warnings: fluff, anxiety, mention of doctors & medical terms, gn pronouns, not proofread

“Right, you can’t put it off any longer love”

“It’s not that bad” Your words come out through broken coughs

“It’s been over a week and your fever hasn’t broken, we need to see the doctor”

“I’m telling you I’m fine”

Simon sighs, his thumb rubbing small circles over the skin of your thigh.

“I understand you’re scared, but I’ll be there with you”

Your heavy eyes turn to him, sincerity seeps from his features, you believe him, you know that he’d never let anything bad happen to you but the anxiety sits like a weight in your stomach.

“It’s more than fear Si, it’s like all my worries just swarm as soon as I think about it, everyone gathers at once and combusts in my head, it’s just too much”

“I know” His hand moves to hold yours, your skin is damp from sweat, he can feel the heat of your skin in his own, “I feel like that too, anytime I think about you in danger, every time I think about my family, everything piles up until it just”

“Bursts”

He snickers, “Yeah, bursts”

You give him a weak smile, closing your eyes for a moment before slowly nodding, “Okay”

“Okay?”

“We can go, but promise me we’ll leave if it’s too much”

“Of course my love”

He holds your hand as you get out of the bed, your legs a little wobbly from the weakness in your muscles. You change in to a pair of sweatpants as Simon makes a quick tea, throwing it in a thermos for you as you both make your way to the car.

You’re staring out the window, watching the buildings breeze bye, a swarming feeling settling in your lower stomach as you bounce your knee nervously. Simons hand moves to rest on top of your hyper leg, pulling you from your thoughts.

“It’ll be quick, they’ll give you some medicine and we’ll go home, I’ll be there the whole time”

You nod, your lower lip between your teeth. You drive for a few more minutes before he parks the car near the entrance of the office, turning off the engine.

“You ready?”

You take a deep breath, nodding to him as you exit the car, his hand moving to rest on the small of your back, the contact helping ease some of your anxiety as you enter.

Simon checks you in and the two of you sit down, your eyes shifting around the room. Your skin starts to sweat as the abundance of objects enter your view, every wall is covered in posters or pamphlets, there’s half dead plants littering the shelves beside small models of brains and lungs.

Your breath picks up and you pick at the skin around your nails, Simon notices, his large hands moving to envelop yours, his thumb soothing over your skin, trying to calm you down.

“Did you finish your book?”

“You’re trying to distract me”

“Yep, so did you?”

“No, I have a few chapters left”

“Is it good?”

You turn to him, “Yes”

“What’s your favourite part so far?”

“You don’t need to keep me busy like a child”

“Just want to take your mind of your worries”

You give him a meek smile, “Thank you” you say before beginning to explain some plot line of your most recent read, Simon watching you talk, asking a few questions and listening when you go on a tangent.

A few minutes pass and the doctor walks out calling your name, you feel your heart drop, Simon squeezes your hands in reassurance as you two stand, your fingers cling to him as you walk down the small hallway to the office and sit down, the smell of alcohol invading your senses.

Simon explains your symptoms to the doctor, your fever and chills, the fatigue and lack of appetite, you sit there listening, your fingers tracing over his tattoos. You flinch a little as the doctor moves to examine your throat, your skin hot and sweaty as his hands prod at your neck, your nails digging into Simons arm.

You listen as the doctor says that you just have a pretty bad cold, probably the flu and that he’d prescribe some antibiotics for you. Simon thanks the man before taking nudging you out of the room, his hand finding it’s way to your back as you leave. You step out and feel like you can finally breath, the cool air outside helping to calm the heat of your skin.

“You did well love, I’m proud of you” His hand roaming along your back

You huff a small laugh, your palms digging into your eyes as you make your way back to the car. You drive back to your flat, Simon stopping to pick up your prescription and some take out for the two of you before you make your way inside.

You strip from your clothes, replacing them with looser items as they began to feel a little claustrophobic, Simon makes you another tea and sets out a glass of water beside your medicine. You swallow the pill and gulp back some water, his eyes watching you to make sure you finished.

“Right, as a reward for going I got your favourite”

He pulls out a small brown bag, opening it and placing a few boxes of chinese food on the counter as you smile,

“Did you get”

“Chicken dumpings? of course”

Your smile widens, he remembered your order. The two of you sit down on the couch to eat your dinner, Simon turning the tv on to the rugby game, cursing when the opposing team scored. He was so animated when he watched sports, such a different persona from his usual, it made you giggle.

“Nice to see you happy love” His hand cupping your jaw, you move your body to rest on him, your chin finding it’s place on his shoulder as his arm snakes around you.

You fall asleep after a few minutes, the stress of the day wearing you out, Simon slowly shifts from under you, moving the plates to the small table ahead before his arms lift your body, carrying you to the bed.

He sets you down gently, making sure the blanket covers you but wouldn’t make you too hot during your sleep as his lips press a kiss to your forehead, you mumble a small thank you to him before falling back asleep.

[she-who-fights-and-writes]

Do you have any advice for writing your first draft?

I’ve just finished an outline for a fic of mine, and like all my projects I abandoned them at the first draft because I lose interest in the story.

So, how can I stay interested long enough to complete my draft and move on to actually finishing the story?

HOW TO WRITE A FIRST DRAFT

A first draft is the hardest draft you will ever write; it’s creating something from nothing, without the benefit of using a previous draft as a base. Obstacles such as writer’s block and motivation may oppose you at every turn, and it can be easy to get sidetracked and frustrated when you have ideas for the “middle” of the story but somehow can’t get to it. 

Just know that everyone is different and writes in a way that works for them, so don’t feel pressured if these tips don’t work for you or don't fit your style of writing!

1. Start With a Good Outline

Since you don’t have a previous draft as a foundation for your writing, your outline will take the place of this! Refer to my posts below:

How to Outline

Plotting for Pansters and Pantsing for Plotters

You can also refer to my FAQ, which includes a variety of resources on getting started. This includes posts on how to get into writing fiction, how to write consistently, and how to combat writer's block!

2. Know that You Don’t Have to Write in Chronological Order

Write what inspires you! If you have no idea what your first scene is going to be but have very specific ideas about a coffee shop interaction during the middle of the book,  write the coffee shop scene instead of staring at your blank word doc for an hour and giving up!

Writing is better than not writing, even if it’s not the part of your story that you “need” to get done. In fact, it can be easier (and more cohesive!) to write all of the major scenes you’re excited about first and connect them together, than to write out everything in the order from start to finish.

3. Give Yourself Permission to Write Incomprehensible Garbage

This goes hand-in-hand with the tips I highlight in my post about overcoming writer’s block. When it comes to a first draft, DONE IS BETTER THAN PERFECT, and QUANTITY OVER QUALITY. It is totally okay if your first draft is covered in placeholders for scenes and conversations that you don’t feel like writing.

For example, rather than getting stuck on writing about your characters on the car ride to the carnival, just write and highlight in red “THEY DRIVE TO THE CARNIVAL” and come back to it later. That way, you can have fun actually writing the carnival scene instead of struggling to write the stuff leading up to it. Momentum is the key to getting your first draft done, not producing writing that “sounds good.”

If you’re just going to go back and edit it later, why bother getting stuck on that now? This leads me into my next point:

4. STOP EDITING!!!

When it comes to a first draft, opening up the doc and editing the things you already wrote for the 712123979843th time is not progress; now you just have one REALLY good scene and no rest of the story. Save the editing for later; you’re more likely to lose steam and feel stuck if you keep getting caught on the same things over and over again. 

I am calling myself out on this one, as I am INCREDIBLY guilty of using editing and rewriting as an excuse to not write new material, but unfortunately it has to be said. Having it in your mind that you’re making progress when in reality you’re using editing as an avoidant technique will not help you in the long run (as much as I wish it would). 

This can sometimes be helped by writing each chapter (or scene that’s getting you stuck) in a new document so that you have no choice but to focus on what you’re currently writing; sometimes the temptations of editing are too great to resist when you have all of your writing in one place!

5. Set Specific Goals and Document Your Progress

Setting goals helps you break up the huge task of “writing a book” into more manageable chunks. 

For example, heading into a writing session with the goal “finish this chapter” or “finish this scene” or “write this dialogue” can make it easier to overcome writer’s block; you are solely dedicating your focus on doing this specific task, and are less likely to get distracted. It’s better than barging head-first into it with no direction, and may also have the added bonus of keeping your writing cohesive.

Documenting your progress can help hold you accountable for reaching the goals that you set. If you like to perform under pressure, maybe you can document your progress online or with a friend; that way, you feel a bit of a pushback from outside sources to get things done! Keeping consistent will also help in maintaining a steady flow of inspiration—you’re always thinking ahead!

However, you should remember that life happens, so don’t beat yourself up if you’re struggling to reach your goals or deadlines! Nobody is a writing machine!

Hope this helps, and happy writing!

[deepdisireslonging]

A Good Handle on Things

The Reader turns heel, which turns on her boyfriend. Despite not having much time to explore the possibilities, the Reader makes the best of it.

Pairing: Will Ospreay x Reader

Warnings/Promises: public SMUT in a closet, subby!Will, handjob, oral (male receiving), quickie, implied further smut

Word Count: 1215

Note: Happy Easter! This Ospreay guy is starting to grow on me. I haven't thought much about writing for him. Let’s change that, shall we? Happy reading!

To the roar of the crowd, you happily left the arena. Things were going perfectly. Your new gear was a hit. And, more importantly, the crowd despised your heel turn. The cost was high, threatening your relationship with over half of the women’s division. Maybe with the heat, more people would become invested in what you ladies were up to, and Tony Khan would finally agree to more TV time.

You were as much of a success backstage as the crowd hated you out front. After receiving your congratulations for becoming AEW’s most hated woman, you practically skipped to your dressing room.

Where a tall drink of tea was leaning against your door.

“Well done, love. Couldn’t have stabbed my best friend in the back better myself.” Will wrapped your arms around his neck so he could bury his nose into your hair. “No hard feelin’s between us, right? I don’t think I’d survive being your next target.”

“Not that I can think of,” you said with a giggle. Then you leaned into his embrace. And pressed into something promising. “Will, honey. Is there something else hard between us?”

He looked up at the ceiling, innocent as a rotten rosebud. “Maybe-“ he dragged out. “And maybe… I think I like you best as a heel. It’s… it’s something, ta say the least.”

“To the least.” You bit your bottom lip, and started curling your fingers in the short hairs at the base of his neck. “I’m glad you like my new schtick. But, I hate to break it to you,” you reached past him and opened the door into your dressing room, “but we’ve got to hit the road.”

“But-“ He followed you in. Snagging your wrist, he pinned you to the inside of the door. “But I want to see this other side of you. I want to-“ he pressed his lips to your forehead, sliding your wrists over your head, “I want to explore your bad girl side.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’ll have to explore me later. We’ve got a bit of a drive, and then an early morning in just a few hours. Maybe tomorrow night?”

With a pout, he moved out of your space so you could change and toss the last of your things into your suitcase. On your way out, people kept stopping you to have you repeat bits of your promo. Will didn’t seem bothered by it. At least, not irked enough to tell people to buzz off. But he kept shifting his weight. Avoiding your gaze when you’d finish. His hand seemed twitchy when you took it. And he was limping.

“Are you okay?” You guided him and the luggage to one side so you could give him a once over out of the way of the pack-up crew. “Did you pull something in your match? Did the Doc look you over yet?”

He muttered short, flustered things to keep your hands off his ribs. But when he shifted his weight again, his grey sweatpants revealed the problem. “Really, it’s nothing. Nothing I can’t- can’t handle later.”

“Later? You can’t drive with… that.” You had to smile at his antics. It was sweet of him to not push his desire onto you when he was so obviously in need. You looked around. Until you spotted a doorknob. You dragged him towards it, gasping in delight when it turned under your grasp.

Will tried to resist. “But- you said- you said we have an early morning. And we- we could get locked in here.”

“Not the worst thing we’ve done. Besides, there’s always some of the guys that stay late. They’ll see our luggage and know we’re still nearby. Or they’ll call.” You held up your phone, activating the flashlight so that you had a little illumination. It was then that you could see how Will’s chest heaved. How his eyes drank you in. He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it more than before. “I haven’t touched you yet, and you already look like I’ve ravaged you,” you whispered. It was supposed to come out as a laugh, but your own breath was short. And your heart pounded in your ears.

Outside, the packing-up of the show drifted away. At any moment, surely, your phone would start ringing.

“We-“ you licked your lips. “We don’t have much time.”

You tugged at Will’s sweats and brazenly pulled his length into the open. He groaned loudly, making you reach up to slap your other hand over his mouth. He laid his palm over your knuckles, reaching back with his other hand to steady himself against the wall.

The Heel rose up inside you.

“You gonna be quiet for me?” you whispered. Gently giving him a twist, you leaned in to lick at the underside of his jaw. Will’s eyes rolled back and he moaned again. “Gonna be good for me?”

He nodded frantically, thrusting into your grasp.

How many times had he taken you like this? In his dressing room or yours, or in some empty hallway. Shoving his hand down your pants to curl his fingers into your desperate slick while the other one kept you quiet. Now you know why he did it so frequently. It made your breath stutter to see him shake with need. To feel his length pulse in your hand. In the bare gleam of your phone, his eyes fluttered as your tugging and twisting quickened. You pressed your thighs together, rubbing them for a bit of friction that would never be enough. You didn’t care. Will’s grip tightened over your hand on his mouth. His nails bit into your skin.

“Getting close, pretty boy?”

A broken whimper was his reply.

You maneuvered your grip until you could press Will’s hand over his mouth. “Being so good for me. Letting me boss you around. Keep it up. Just a bit longer.” With that, you sank to your knees.

Your lips had barely wrapped around his length before he was throwing his head back. His release filled your mouth, spilling out and dripping onto your shirt. Doing his best to follow your order, he pressed his hand hard over the sounds that tried to escape as he rode out the high.

When he was spent, you tucked him back into his pants. And you tugged at the bottom of his sweatshirt till he let you steal it.

“I’ll change into another shirt when we get the bags to the car.”

His eyes were wild as he tried to catch his breath. Running your fingers over his cheeks and forehead, his flushed skin told you everything you’d ever need to know about whether to try this again or not.

“But-“ he gasped, swallowing hard, “but you?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get mine later.” You let wickedness overtake the gleam in your eye. “Maybe I can put on a show for you?” He grabbed your wrist, dragging you out of the hall cupboard. The bags tipped over, rolling and sliding across the concrete until he had all of their straps and handles under control. “Well, come on, then. I can’t leave my bad girl waiting. And for the record,” he kissed you hard, pinning you against a trellis, “you can boss me around any time.”

***

Masterlist

Other hallway quickies:

Jealous - Smut with Elias

If We Get Caught - Smut with Jimmy Uso

Finish Me - Smut with MJF

Back Hallways - Smut with Roman Reigns

Our Princess - Bobby Fish x Reader x Kyle O’Reilly

[graceshouldwrite]

4 Ways to Get Back Into Your WIP

You know when you might have taken a long break, worked on other projects, talked to other people about it, and basically did EVERYTHING to get yourself back into it, but it’s not working?

Even though you still want to LIKE your WIP and work on it? 

These tips are based on my own experience dealing with that feeling. I went through something like that for around a year, but now, I’m getting past it and returning to my main WIP more excited than I’ve been for a long time! 

1. List out WHAT you don’t like and fix it

COMMON CORE ISSUES:

Plot + Subplots? 

They might seem too (among other things):

lackluster

complex

unnecessary

confusing

You might not know how to:

develop the plots

make them believable

add the scenes you want without giving the book 800+ pages

choose scenes to cut to fit the word count goal...

Characters?

A BIG ONE: some writers try to force themselves to like X character for whatever reason (e.g. based them on a specific aesthetic, felt forced to add specific rep, etc), but they just DON’T. 

Or, maybe:

you don’t know how to develop your characters

their group dynamic is too difficult to write/doesn’t make a lot of sense

your character voices, personalities, or appearances might not be distinct enough

Prose?

You might:

want to add more humour (prose is too depressing and atmospherically dark)

want to add more gravity (prose is too comedic and romantic)

want to shift from past to present tense, want to tell story from another POV, etc. 

Organization?

OFTEN, the book’s just TOO COMPLEX with all the characters, subplots, etc. and it’s too intimidating to try to sort out all the mess that’s your WIP 

SO…

The lists I gave you are most of the big, common issues. Once they’re sorted into SPECIFIC types of problems, don’t they get less intimidating to look at? 

I know you might think, gee, Grace, these problems will take [insert comically large time frame] to solve. 

Well, if you genuinely want to like your project again and work on it, DO IT.

Slowing down your WIP finish date is worth it if it helps you get back into it. If you never get back into the project, you’ll NEVER FINISH IT. Late > never.

Heck, you might not even be too late—you might find yourself back in the passionate fever you were when you started it, and be in the headspace to write furiously :) 

I think you know how to solve these broken-down problems. Some require more sheer line-editing, while others require big executive decisions (e.g. getting rid of a character or rewriting an entire subplot/the plot). But, it will be worth it when you start to love your project again.

2. Remember why you started it 

Before each project, write a STATEMENT OF PURPOSE at the beginning of your doc to remind you why you’re writing this story in the first place. If you didn’t do this, it’s not too late to start one now! 

It could be something as close to heart as “I want to express how unrequited love feels,” or something as grand as like “I want to write a tragic allegory of the political and economic state of the world that explores human nature” (I am projecting in both of these examples, but you get it). 

Something SPECIFIC is a lot better for this than things like: “I told X this story idea and they liked it,” or “I promised to write this for X,” or “I want to tell this story just cuz.” These latter examples probably won’t fill you with passion. 

3. Listen BEYOND your WIP playlists. Look at images BEYOND your WIP aesthetics 

Many people think revisiting your old playlists / boards help, but that often contributes to the staleness!!!! 

Instead, by purposefully expanding your scope of consumed media, you open yourself up to more inspiration and ideas of where you want to take your project.  New images and new songs will give you new ideas on atmosphere, mood, scenes, and so much more. 

4. Compare your WIP to a similar book you like

You know THAT BOOK that comes to mind whenever someone asks you which book is your favourite/impacted you deeply? Think of how your book will impact readers in the same way. All the emotional turmoil and mental enlightenment That Book gave you is what YOU will give to the readers who resonate with YOUR book one day!

The author of the book you’re thinking about went through drafts, edits, and maybe even wanted to give up at some point, (LIKE YOU!) but pushed through it. Now, their book is on the bestseller list/on a bookshelf/a classic (whatever appeals to you)!  Don’t stop before YOUR book is there, too. 

∘₊✧────── ☾☼☽ ──────✧₊∘

instagram: @ grace_should_write

A LOT of this comes from personal experience; I had this mental tussle with my main WIP a while back, so I hope this helps anyone else dealing with the same problem :)

Hope this was helpful, and let me know if you have any questions by commenting, re-blogging, or DMing me on IG. Any and all engagement is appreciated <3333

Happy writing, and have a great day!

- grace <3

[softspeirs]

The Major and the Nurse (1): Rosie Rosenthal x OC

A/N: Rosie/OC… literally couldn’t resist. I was torn between this OC and a Red Cross OC from the flak house, but I think I wanted someone who would see him during all the hard parts, not just for a week when he’s Suffering. Spoilers for eps 5 and 6 of MoTA.

one - adjustment period.

Grace watches warily as the crew approaches on the jeep - she’s not sure what she expected… for them to be jubilant and laughing, looking refreshed and ready for action? Nervous, scared, resigned… some combination of the two?

Her eyes land on Rosie, as they’re prone to do. He seems calm. That’s not a surprise, but the glimpse of something — fear? hesitation? — in his eyes is.

Helen, standing on her left, shifts her weight, her posture the picture of worry and sadness.

“Try to pull yourself upright,” Grace says quietly.

"I'm trying--" Helen says, her voice dull. To her credit, she flashes a smile as the guys get closer, her frown softening.

"Ladies," Rosie says, fingers on the brim of his hat. "What's the welcome wagon for?"

"Coffee." Helen says, "Just brewed."

He smiles thankfully at her, but his eyes go back to Grace's. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, Lieutenant Fleming--"

"Bearer of semi-bad news, I'm afraid." Grace says, ignoring the way her heart picks up a little at his half smile. She rushes to finish before she can see his face transform - he can't afford any more bad news. "Doc wants to see everyone, just a quick chat. After that there's food in the mess."

He nods. "What's one more doctor?" He mutters. She suspects she wasn't supposed to hear that. Then, louder, "You heard her, gents. Doctor's orders."

They grumble a little, but head into the infirmary behind Grace and Helen, taking a cup of coffee each as they go. Helen follows behind, empty tray tucked under her arm. She looks back at Grace, but Rosie is lingering behind, twisting the brim of his cap in his hands, and Grace can't bring herself to leave him out here alone.

She waves Helen on, telling her she'll catch up in a minute.

“Captain?”

He starts, like he forgot she was there. He also looks like he’s forgotten about his promotion. And that’s the thing with flying — a promotion isn’t always wanted. Deserved, certainly. But it often comes at the expense of other pilots, and it’s always a tough pill to swallow. “How’s it been? How’s— everyone?” He asks her. His face is so earnest. It makes her throat tight.

“As well as we can be, Captain. Most of the replacements are here.” She hesitates before continuing. She’s been here right along, with the Red Cross girls and the doctor and the other nurses. But just because she’s been here as long as everyone else doesn’t mean she understands what the flight crews have gone through. “How was your week off?”

“Too long.” He says, no hesitation. His smile is small, wry, a barely-there upturn of his lips. “I wanted to get back.”

“And you’re alright?” The question comes out almost without her permission. They don’t even know each other that well - she’s patched up a few of his scrapes and bruises and they’ve made idle conversation as he checked on some of his crew that ended up in the infirmary, but this is bordering on too casual.

But she’d argued with him, the day before he went on leave. She’d been too casual then, too, and so had he, both of them lost in the emotions of the Munster mission.

It feels a little awkward now, but she does her best to press on.

She can’t help but worry about him. She admires him, at the heart of it. The way he kept his men together through it all, the way he always has a kind word and a joke for anyone who needs it.

She just hopes he’d say so if he’s the one who needs it, this time.

“I’m as good as I can be, Lieutenant.” He replies.

“Grace.” She reminds him softly. “It’s— you don’t have to call me Lieutenant.”

“Grace, then.” He echos. “I’m okay. Have to be. For them.”

“I hope—“ she pauses, looking down at her shoes. “Forgive me sir, but I hope you know that we’re all here for you. What you went through—“

“I know.” He interrupts her, not unkindly. “You think we haven’t seen the way you’ve been there for us? Even when you thought we didn’t notice?” He shakes his head. “You write our letters when our hands shake, and get us extra blankets, and tell us it’s going to be okay when it’s—“ He stops himself, shaking his head.

When his eyes meet hers, they’re so soft she can barely stand it. This is dangerous, what this conversation is turning into, but she’s also relieved to hear that what she’s been doing besides being a nurse and keeping them alive has made a difference.

“I appreciate it more than I can put into words, Grace.” His voice is rough.

There’s a long moment of prolonged eye contact. Her senses are screaming, danger, danger! But no matter how hard she tries, she can’t look away.

“You just keep yourself and those boys alive, Captain.” She says, her voice thick. “For the rest of us.”

He salutes, a jaunty thing that lightens the mood. “Yes ma’am.”

She laughs, and he grins at her in response. “Go on, you have to meet with the Doctor too. Just standard procedure.”

He hums. “Heard a lot of that the last week.” He takes a few steps away and then stops, “Grace?” His face is suddenly boyish, shy. “You’d better call me Rosie. Or at least by my first name.”

It feels right — she’s given up calling anyone else by their rank anymore. They’ve been through too much for that. The new guys will be an adjustment - she’s not sure she can manage getting attached to any of them. Because it’s inevitable, what happens after.

But the line has already been crossed with this man, looking at her in the fading sunlight.

“You got it, Rosie.”

His answering smile stays with her until the next day, long after the roar of B-17s fades into the distance.

[sugarsfics]

You're My New Pillow

Summary: Eddie is tired and finds his new pillows 

Trope: Rockstar!Eddie x Plus!size!reader 

Warning: Kissing small sexual mentions because it is rockstar!eddie, being tired, metal image problems, cussing, 

Word count: 900

30 Day Challenge: Day 1  Send requests <33

Eddie has been up since 4 this morning. His manager wanted tonight to be perfect it was their first-time playing Madison Square Garden. Eddie has told you during your late-night conversations that it has always been his dream to play there because that’s how you know you made it. You were able to capture the moment when he saw it big letters CORRODED COFFIN TONIGHT 8 MADISON SQUARE GARDEN he was teary eyes and smiles. All day they have been rehearsing, doing should check, getting a feel for the stage. You could see in his eyes how tired he was, but he didn’t feel it, he was too excited. When they had their lunch break his eyes would drupe a little as he lay on your shoulder. 

“Honey, I think you should take a nap” you said has you rubbed his shoulders “I’m ok pretty girl” “But-” “Here take this” Jeff said and handed him an energy drink. “Thanks man” he takes it and chug it. You look at him with worried eyes I hope he will be fine for tonight. Their manager comes in to bring them out to their last practice before the concert. Even with tired eyes Eddie still looked amazing. When the first manager tells them they have 1 hour till they start getting ready. You walked with Eddie to his dressing room and past a window all you could see was a sea of people. “Wow” Eddie breathed “Their all here for you my rockstar” “Wow” was all he could say in that moment. You helped him get ready, not wanting him to be doing anything to get him tired. You were on his lap doing his eyeliner when you said “I am so proud of you” red spread across his cheeks, you could resist and kiss those red cheeks making them redder “Are you sure you don’t want to take a quick nap” “I’m *yawn* fine” “You just yawn in the middle that” “I” he breathed “I just don’t want to fall asleep then miss it all” “You won’t I will wake you up” “Yea but what if you fall asleep then we miss it” poor boy was so scared to miss his moment so you didn’t pressure him anymore. 

You helped Eddie get changed then started to get yourself ready. You put on a distressed black long sleeve with a red skirt with a belt, ripped tights (that Eddie may or may not have ripped) your trusty pair of docs and completed the look with dark makeup. You look at yourself in the mirror, you tried not to look at the rolls that were hanging or the pudge of your stomach. Eddie always praised you, he always called you a goddess, you tried and tried to see yourself through his eyes, but you couldn’t. You wiped your tears hurrying out the bathroom before you changed your mind. When you walked out your eyes met with Eddie’s he scanned you his eyes lit up then he fell to his knees and started bowing with his hands forward saying “I'm not worthy I'm not worthy” you giggled “Get up dork” “Damn” he bit his hand “How did I get so fuckin lucky, you look amazing” “I don’t-” he brought his lips to yours “Don’t you dare finish that sentence you are fucking hot” he said while kissing your face *knock knock* “10 minutes till show time Munson” You both looked at each other we huge smiles “Go knock there socks off rockstar” 

You walked by a mirror on the way to the stage when you looked at yourself and this time you saw the goddess, he was talking about he gave you confidence. He saw you look at you through the mirror “You look beautiful” he said kissing you “Yeah I do” you smiled at him “That’s my girl”  he screamed

Eddie played beautifully, his hair was flowing in every direction, his voice was amazing, the adrenaline kicked in when he walked onto the stage. He did it, His dream came true. The last chord rang through the speakers as they closed the night, they gave thanks and headed off the stage. The boy’s blood was rushing and big smiles everywhere “You looked amazing babe” you beamed bringing him in for a kiss “I feel amazing” he screamed. As much as they wanted to celebrate, they were tired. But we had to wait for a few hours till everyone was gone, they got on the tour bus. You sit on the leather couch with Eddie following in suit. He has been eyeing your thighs all night. “Is there something you like” you teased him “Yes there is” he said while moving his head down “Oh my god not here” you said quietly while looking around making sure no one was looking “As much as I would love to do that” he said “I will be using your thighs for other reasons” he continued. He laid his head on your thighs “Oh yea this is definitely what the doctor ordered” you rolled your eyes then started playing with his hair “if you keep doing that, I will fall asleep” “You deserve sleep, go ahead I will wake you when it is time to go” the response was his light snores.  

About two hours later their manager gave them the ok to get on the bus “Eddie my love wake up” you said light shaking him he rubbed his eyes and stretched “that was the best sleep of my life” he said “Come on let’s get on the bus” he clung on to you trying to keep the sleep in his eyes “ You my new pillow” he said sleepily “What” “You’re so comfy and squishy you are just my perfect pillow” you got him on the tour bus and into his bed. He pulled you under him and laid his head on your chest said his good nights and I love you’s and drifting off to sleep. He woke up the next morning “Yep you’re my new pillow” 

Tag list: @thefreak0fhawkinshigh

[the-joju-experience]

Quackity was polishing a bar counter when he heard the doors creak open. He turned towards them, seeing Scar, Etho, Cleo, and Joe walk in.

“Can I help you?” Quackity asked.

“Howdy, Quackity!” Joe said. “I told my friends about the bar, and I thought it’d be real fun for all of us to kick back and relax between rounds!”

“What makes you think that I would host all four of you?” Quackity asked.

“Actually, I didn’t!” Joe said. “I invited all my friends!”

The doors sprung open even wider, and a swarm of Hermits rushed in.

Grian and Pearl made their way to a blackjack table and started playing. Impulse, Zedaph, and Tango flocked to a slot machine, delicately taking it apart. Gem, False, and Stress confidently marched over to the chip exchange counter to make their requests. xB, Xisuma, and Wels sat down at the bar. Keralis and Israel found a machine in a far corner and began shoving money into it. BDubs just stood in the center of the room, screaming something about it being night.

Quackity flinched when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head to see Vintage Beef holding onto him.

“Hey there!” Beef said. “Joe tells me you have a full-service operation out here in need of some games. As it happens, I’ve just finished developing one that I think you’ll love!”

“What the…” Quackity started, thoroughly confused.

“Howdy there, Quackit-ey!” Ren said. “What does it take to get a man a nice, hot mug of cocoa around these parts?”

Quackity blushed and ran away.

He escaped into the kitchen, where Doc and Sam were hard at work on… something.

“This should only break reality a little bit,” Doc explained. “Don’t worry too much.”

Quackity retreated into a closet. He hit the light, but was surprised to find Etho waiting for him.

“What are you doing here?” Quackity asked, surprised.

“Joe said I’d probably find you here. Apparently we have some stuff to go over?” Etho explained.

Seven minutes later, Quackity and Etho emerged from the closet to find Cleo sharpening a sword.

“Hi, guys,” Cleo said. “I’m just getting ready for a thing I’m doing to- I mean with- Joe.”

“Jesus Christ you people are intense!” Quackity shouted.

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it,” Scar said, appearing next to Quackity.

“Where did you come from?” Quackity yelped.

“That’s a good question,” Scar said. “Anyway, come have some fun with us! Joel and Lizzie will be here with the karaoke machine any minute!”

The door flew open, and Grian ran in, panting.

“What’s up, buddy?” Scar asked.

Grian breathed heavily.

“M- m-“ he struggled.

“Marvel dropped a new trailer for the HoTgUy movie? We have to go see it!” Scar lead the group back into the main room, but froze in his tracks when he saw what Grian was talking about.

Mumbo K. Jumbo himself stood in the entry of Las Nevadas.

“Um, hi?” Mumbo said nervously. “I heard there was gambling going on, and I thought - well, I have all these diamonds and nothing good to spend them on, this could be fun!”

[twinksrepository]

A Valentine's Day treat. Well more like night after

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Dante X F!Reader

CW: Food play, P in V sex, teasing, bad puns

Word count: Roughly 3K 

A/N: It's been a few months since you started dating the silly pizza man, and fail to keep that on the down low when it's Valentine's Day and one of your co-workers pesters you about dating the man but being at work. Good thing Lady is giving Dante a hard time as well. Well maybe after your shift you can find a way to have some fun with your boyfriend. 

The third of my Valentine’s Day fics.

Quirking your nose as you scrawl out the last of your notes before handing them off for entry in the system you let out a long exhale. It’s not even ten pm and you’ve already dealt with four accidentally swallowed rings, three broken noses, and two stabbings. The stabbings were a little normal for the emergency department but the rings weren’t. 

“I don’t understand why people just can’t propose like normal people, why do they put it in food Doctor?” You snort shaking your head as one of the orderies rubs at her temple. 

“People want to be different, if they knew how often people miss the ring dropped in their champagne glass because of nerves they might try something else.” Signing your name before looking at the next person on the triage list and reading what happened. “Like this person. They tried chocolate mousse, I’ll give them a point for originality.”

“Me. Hey Doc?” Letting out a hum as you double check to make sure you don't hand anyone higher up on the priority list to check with. “How come you're here tonight and not out with that man of yours?” 

You feel your nose quirking again. “Which man would that be?” Attempting to avoid eye contact as you do know exactly who they're talking about. Your silly pizza loving man with a knack for killing the demonic, even if most people think he's just a regular handy man of sorts. 

“Funny. That broad shoulders white haired fella. Damien or something.” 

“Dante” you wince as the correction slips from your mouth with ease. 

“Him!” Grinning like the cat that ate the canary at catching you. “Come on, I've seen the two of you out around town. He's a hottie. Why aren't you out with him instead of in here dealing with the chaos of proposals gone wrong?” 

You laugh hearing how the night in the ER has been going so far it sounds about right. “He's working tonight, besides I'd rather cover this night over New Year's and the Fourth of July anytime.” Winking before you head down the hallway with your clipboard, hoping this couple is a lot calmer than the last. 

“Explain how I'm a bad boyfriend!” Dante was pissed as he swung the rebellion slicing one of the lizard like demons in half sending Lady a look of bewilderment. 

“If you were a good one I wouldn't have to explain it.” Snarking back as she unloaded a few rounds into her own quarry before shaking her head at him. “You really are terrible with women, at this rate the pretty little doctor is gonna leave you. Working on Valentine's Day.” 

“It's just a sappy day to give chocolates, if she wants to leave me over that then fine!” Slicing another demon and dodging having a set of talons driven through his back. As much as he said that the smaller voice I'm his head was screaming. No. It wasn't fine. She was his and it didn't matter what day it was he should be balls deep in her, making sure she smelt of him and sex. 

“You really are an idiot.”

“Whatever Lady. Are we finishing this job you asked for my help for or not?” He'd rather focus on a fight than the way his pants were growing tighter. Damn libido.

As you left the hospital that morning, well 3 am, you couldn’t help but swing into the nearest 24 hour store to grab a few grocery items for yourself and saw a few items that made you smirk. A package of chocolate dipped and plain strawberries, grabbing them before heading to the devil may cry office with a can of whipped cream and a terrible plan. 

Trying the door to find it unlocked and slinking inside, a good sign that Dante is home otherwise you would have had to try and dig through your bag for the spare key he’d given you. “Dante!” If the lights in the main office hadn’t of been on you wouldn’t have called out, but if it is on then it’s a good sign your handsome man is still awake. 

“Backroom Babe!” Well, that answers that, heading towards the door that hides a short hallway ending in a minuscule kitchen. The main level of the office doesn't have much besides the front area itself which takes up the bulk of the floor space, there is a second bathroom that you’re certain before you entered his life was the only one Dante used. Well used being an operative word. 

Stepping into the space and finding the white haired man holding a small glass filled with amber liquid. “That kind of night huh?” You snort laying your paper bag of goodies on the the tiny counter before dropping your overnight bag to the floor and approaching him. 

“Any night that involves Lady is one of those kind of nights.” Rolling his eyes before taking a sip of the drink and setting his eyes on you. “Didn't think I'd see you this early, thought you were working the ER tonight?” 

“I was.” Lifting your arms to drop them over his broad neck and play with some of the longer white hairs at the back of his head and leaning closer. His jacket is draped over the chair you suspect would snap if anyone sat in it so your arms are able to rest more against him instead of the leather. “My shift finished about an hour ago and I didn't have a lot of paperwork to do. How was your night?” 

Raising his drink between your bodies you watch him quirk a brow as if surprised you asked “Shit so far. Now that you're here though.” Hooking two of his fingers in one of the belt loops of your pants and tugging you a little closer to him. “It seems to be getting better.” 

Tossing the rest of his drink back before sliding the empty glass behind him and dropping his hand on your hip you get the hint and push up on your toes as he leans closer to you. Only for your senses to be flooded by the smell of rancid copper and things you'd rather not think about. Sharply pulling away from him. “You smell like ass” Waving your hand in front of your nose as you screw up your face at him.

“I got home maybe ten minutes before you walked in!” His tone is haughty as he lifts his hands exasperated by your reaction, and for a moment you're distracted by the shift of his shirt and the hint of pale skin. 

“You need a shower if you want a kiss.” Shaking your head at him and hiding that you had been distracted by his body. “Or the other treat I have for you.” You might be annoyed that his first thought was a drink before getting cleaned but his lifestyle wasn't focused on getting the grim off his body right away for the longest time. 

Hearing you mention a treat, however, has his mood shifting and a smirk on his handsome face “A treat huh? Do I get a hint?” Wiggling his eyebrows as his gaze roves over your body, making you flush in response. 

“I don't wanna ruin the surprise but let's say trying something new.” Giving him a wink as he grabs his coat and starts to walk past you. “Only clean good little boys are going to get it though.” 

Roaring with laughter as he turns on his feet facing you as he walks away. “Guess I'm outta luck. Even with a shower, I'm zero outta three on that list.” Dropping his hand to his crotch just before stepping out of sight. “Especially the little part.” 

You can't help but laugh as he slips away, waiting until you hear either the water running from the downstairs bathroom or the creek of the stairs as he heads to the upper level. It's the creaking of the stairs that you hear, grinning as you wait another moment before placing your food for tomorrow in the fridge. At least you don't have to worry about something trying to crawl out of the neglected device. This time. 

Keeping the strawberries and whipped cream with you as you headed out to the main part of the office once more, checking the main door was locked before taking the stairs. It was more for your own peace of mind than anything else, if something wanted to go after Dante a metal bolt wasn't going to stop it. 

Hearing the shower run as you reach the top of the landing you slow, pondering for a moment if you should join him or just jump into your own little surprise. You did have a quick shower before you left work because you hated the smell of the antiseptic on your skin, but the idea of rubbing your hands over his wet chest are hard to ignore. Giving your head a shake you keep walking, if you don't commit to what you have planned you'll never try it, and Dante likes surprises in the bedroom. 

Leaning across the bedspread as you hear the sound of his footsteps you grin to yourself before swallowing to try and settle your face. As the door swings open you try to get your expression sorted out so you aren’t a blushing mess, trying to aim for sultry. 

Dante has a towel thrown over his head missing your expression and one slung around his waist, except he has the size of them backward. The larger one over his head and the smaller struggling to remain tied around his waist with how thick his thighs are and your little plan to try and seduce him fails as your jaw drops a little. “Maybe it’s me who’s getting the treat instead of you. Big boy.” Tacking on the last word to get him to lift his head. 

At least your little plan worked as his composure snaps for a moment as he stares at you, his eyes following the trail of whipped cream along the lines of your stomach from your covered core up to your tits. “Babe.” A hard swallow and it’s clear as the towel around his hips flutters from something hidden underneath that he’s getting aroused. “Are those strawberries on your tits?” 

“I figured since it was too late to get you a sundae I’d try and be one instead.” Trailing an index finger along part of your stomach and scooping some of the cream up before sticking the digit in your mouth and sucking on it hard enough to hollow your cheeks. That towel around his waist stood no chance as his cock hardens and sticks up from the edge, raising the fabric as if his dick is peeking out at you. “Sorry, but it’s the best I could do on such short notice.” 

Using one of his hands to pull the towel from around his shoulders and letting it drop to the floor with a wet smack your covered core throbs. His eyes are wild and you can see his neck flexing as his jaw works. Too bad all his attempts are undone by the way his length keeps twitching as it arches from between his legs. “I don’t see any ice cream unless you’re hiding it under that pretty body of yours.” 

Striding closer before he stops. Dante is far from unobservant and the man has noticed your own gaze keeps landing between his legs. “For some reason, I don’t think you have any for me. Not with the way your eyes keep looking at this fine display.” With a snap of his fingers, the towel is gone and you can’t help the little noise of satisfaction you let out at his naked body. He’s fit and knows it, surprising with his terrible diet, but you can’t get enough of it. 

“You’re right. I wanted some meat tonight.” Winking at him before spreading your legs, showing him the damp spot on your underwear. “I think you should come get your dessert before it gets too warm though.” Adding a small whine at the end as you want to feel his skin against yours, or his tongue. Really he can remove the fruit and cream covering your torso anyway he wants to. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t cover your pussy in cream too.” Snorting as he closes the final distance and you feel his bed dip as he joins you. 

“I might be willing to try food play but I am not having anything go in my pussy that isn’t sanitized.” 

“Sorry Doc, I gotta call you out on that one.” Running one of his large hands along your thigh before snapping your underwear with his finger. “My tongue and fingers go in there all the time.” You roll your eyes and reach a hand out to try and get him to pay more attention to your body. 

“Funny Dante. Honestly though. Do you want to lick or help me clean this up? The cream really is starting to run.” A chuckle before he moves, throwing a leg over your body and settling so he straddles your form, sliding down a little as his hands come to rest beside your body. 

“I think I can help with that problem.” Lowering his head to where the cream is starting to run just below your naval and licking a wide strip along the stream of white painted on your body. Right away you moan, the heat from his tongue chasing the chill that was seeping into your skin has you shuddering. “I’d have rathered lick at another cream though.” Lapping his tongue up your body and following the trail up your belly, all the while your hands are roaming across his back. It’s hard to stay still under him as you react to his closeness, your muscles shifting in delight at the texture of his tongue, and the way his breath fans out across your tummy. Rubbing your thighs together the slightest amount as you grow wetter the closer his head gets to one of your breasts. 

Almost there and your clit throbs and your body tenses. 

Laughing when he shoves his face between both of your boobs, covering the sides of his face in the cream before looking up at you. “Wanna taste my cream now?” Wiggling his eyebrows and you aren’t sure where the cream ends and his hair starts. 

“You’re so cheesy Dante.” 

“No. But I can go get some spray cheese if you’d rather lick that up.” Shuffling and grabbing one of the strawberries to pop in his mouth before dipping his face towards yours. As his lips connect with yours you don’t bother trying to respond to him verbally, instead letting one hand slide up along the muscles of his back and tangling in his hair. Parting your lips and moaning into him as his tongue darts out to lick the inside of your mouth, tasting some of the cream and strawberry juice on him. It isn’t a long kiss as he pulls away and grabs the other strawberry, holding it to your lips and offering it to you. 

“I ate two chocolate covered ones earlier. Those two were for you.” Smirking up at him as he rolls his eyes, tossing it in his mouth before reaching for the floor to grab the towel and wipe the cream off his face and one of your tits.

“I’ll remember that for next time.” Going in for another quick kiss making you gasp as he rolls his hips against yours, certain you could feel some of the fluid dripping from his tip smear against your belly. “Now to clean up this remaining mess the way you wanted.” The movement of his tongue is different this time, short quick swipes as he works his way up around to the tip of your nipple. Understanding why he cleaned the other off as he starts to circle his rough thumb against the hard nub, an involuntary roll of your hips as you sigh. The burning in your core grows hotter under his touch. 

Another whine as he ignores the tip of the nipple under his mouth, his lips kissing the edge of the skin now instead of lapping at it as if it’s some sort of divine nectar instead of cheap whipped cream from a can. A few more rolls of your hips as you try to edge him on, wanting more from the white haired man however he is having none of it. 

“Seems like this was more a treat for you than me.” The hand that had been massaging your other tit is now at your hip keeping you from moving while he leans more of his weight on the arm he has resting beside you as he licks everywhere but the point of your breast. Making low grunts and groans as he laps at your skin, tilting his head to make eye contact, and once he does he sends you a look that you can only describe as sinful. 

“Dante, please. No more teasing.” Doing your best to plead with him as your body thrums, you want him and you’ll do anything at this point to get it. “It was just a silly idea.” 

“Lucky for you.” Dipping his head and flicking the hard flesh with his tongue at last. “I like silly.” The hand at your hip pushing your underwear to the side and pushing his way inside your tight heat, while at the same time sucking on your tit like it’s the last thing he’s going to do. 

Your reaction is immediate as you scream his name, your back arching and pressing your chest more into his mouth as you cum around his tip that’s barely part way inside of you. His fingers circle your clit while keeping the thin fabric that divided your bodies away from your core as he works more of himself into you, trying to drag out your orgasm as long as he can. 

Growling as you respond, dragging your fingers down his shoulders and trying to press more of his body down to yours lost in the sensation before you’re panting from the overstimulation. Dante stops the movement of his fingers and lifts his head from your now abused breast, smirking at the indent of his teeth in your supple skin and the bruise forming there. Once you calm down he’ll rip those panties off your hips and fuck you for real. For now, he’s content feeling the tremors of your walls along his length while you recover from your first release of the night. 

“Guess I’m not that bad of a boyfriend after all.” 

[fandom-blackhole]

hi, i really liked your work in ao3, so i’d like to request about joel where reader is pregnant and she’s freaking out a bit about telling joel, afraid he’s not going to take the new well, mostly cause of his traumas, but also cause it’s not a safe environment to raise a kid. thank you!

So sorry this took me absolutely forever to get to my lovely, school has been super busy for me! But I'm so happy that you liked my other Joel works and came over here send a request <3 I hope you like this!!

WC: 3.6K (this one got away from me woops)

Warnings: afab!reader, pregnancy, set in Jackson, no real spoilers (that i noticed), one cuss word, mentions of doubts and intrusive thoughts over the pregnancy, very unedited (i am tired and i am sure there are a ton of mistakes sorry)

When the sickness first started you chalked it up to food poisoning from the twenty some year old can of Cambell’s baked potato soup you had found and eaten while out on a three day supply run. Joel had warned you about eating it, but you had been too excited over the soup and the nostalgic memories of before the outbreak that it brought with it. So it wasn’t too much of a surprise when two days later as you were hunched over the toilet, Joel rubbed your back gently and waited until after you were finished and he passed you a glass of water, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the door frame and sighed, “Told you not to eat that soup.”

You had only huffed at him and lifted your hand, motioning for help, to which Joel helped you up off the floor and helped you to bed. He left you there with your glass of water and a small trash can, but not before he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead and whispered, “Rest up. I’ll come check up on ya in a few hours.”

Of course when a week passed and you were still running from bed each morning, Joel insisted you visit the doctor in town. You pushed back at first, saying that it was probably just the flu, it was that time of year right before winter fully sets in and the weather bounced from warm and cold and almost everyone had at least the sniffles. Joel, however, kept pushing and eventually he won out after a particularly rough day where you could barely hold down water and you couldn’t handle Joel’s worried glances anymore.

So the next morning, before he left for his patrol, Joel walked you to the building downtown that had long been converted into a doctor’s office. The whole walk there Joel kept fretting over you.

“You sure you’ll make it back home alright? I can ask Maria to come and walk you back when she’s finished, or have her grab Ellie to do it.”

”I’ll be fine. I swear you act like I am gonna walk out of there knocking on death’s door.”

Joel of course gives you an exasperated look as the two of you turn the corner to the main hub of Jackson that was downtown and he gives a huff before saying, “You just have me worried. I’ve never seen you this sick and you haven’t been getting any better. It’s been two weeks, you should be getting better by now.”

“Joel, I really think you are making a mountain out of a molehill here,” you reply to his worry, trying to reassure him just a little, but as he opens the door for you to enter the doctor’s office he just shakes his head while looking at the ground. When he meets your eyes again, he says with full seriousness, “I don’t think you ‘re taking this serious enough. Maybe I should stay an’ make sure you don’t downplay everything.”

At that you take a step forward towards Joel and stick a finger on his chest with your eyebrows raised.

“Oh no, you are going to go do your patrol with Tommy. I can do this like an adult,” you pause and meet Joel’s hazel gaze, reading into his worry with a sigh, “and I promise I will tell the doc the whole truth, leaving nothing out. You aren’t going to lose me to something as small as the flu Joel Miller, you’re stuck with me.”

That earned you a small quirk of Joel’s lips, before he sighed again before nodding. You gave him a small smile back and pressed a kiss to Joel’s nose before whispering a goodbye and walking into the doctor’s office.

---

Well, Joel was right it would seem. It wasn’t the flu like you had assumed. You weren’t even sure how to wrap your head around what the doctor had come in and told you. He had told you that he ran the test twice just to be sure, but both had come back positive. You were pregnant and there was no doubt in your mind whose child it was.

You didn’t mean to start crying, but once it started you couldn’t stop, the tears cascading down your cheeks as your shoulders shook with silent gasping sobs. Your doctor held you, letting your tears soak his shoulder as he ran a comforting hand up and down your back. From his reaction, you doubt this is the first time he’s comforted someone with news like this, afterall who wants to bring new life into a world like the one surrounding you now, it wasn’t a safe environment for children. 

Once you had calmed, the doctor pulled away and with a gentle voice started giving you the pregnancy spiel- avoid this, don’t drink that, try to eat more of this. All of it was a blur in your mind, shock clouding your thoughts. The doctor told you he estimated that you were about six or seven weeks in, which is when morning sickness tended to make an appearance. So he gave you a bottle of multivitamins to start taking as well as a chamomile and ginger tea that is supposed to help the nausea. He also gave you a small bag of honey and mint candies, saying he was a little worried about your lack of calorie and fluid intake over the last week, telling you to drink the tea and try and suck on a few candies until you thought you could hold down actual food. 

As you got ready to leave, your tote of goodies, as the nurse had called it, slung over your shoulder, the doctor gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze and a small smile telling you, “Try not to worry too much, you’re in the best spot in the whole country to be going through something like this, and you aren’t alone, you have a whole town at your back. Not to mention the hardest fighter in town beside you.”

You returned his smile, though your’s was hollow and full of worry, and nodded. You wished the doctor and the nurse a good week and walked home, not stopping until you were alone in your bathroom sobbing as you slid down the wall in your shower.

---

Weeks passed and your nausea and morning sickness eased with the help of the tea which you drank in the mornings, smiling over the rim of your mug as Joel drank his coffee, always offering you some and you always declining. He never seemed any suspicious of your condition. He believed you that evening when you had told him a lie, told him that you had been right, that the doctor said it had been the flu making you sick. He didn’t question you when in the mornings after saying you were better you still drank the tea telling him you had really liked it and just didn’t want it to go to waste, when in reality you were still waking up with a queasy stomach each morning.

You aren’t completely sure why you continued to hide the pregnancy for Joel. He didn’t say it much, but he had told you that he loved you, he showed it to you almost daily through small things like bringing you fresh eggs when you mentioned a craving for cookies but you were missing that one ingredient, how he brought home you favorite food from the dining hall once you were finally able to hold down food again, how he surprised you with a gift yesterday- a small wooden bird carving he’d started for you when he noticed you’d been feeling down. He loved you, you knew this, and you loved him, but you were terrified of telling him. What if it changed how he felt? What if he didn’t take the news well?

You should know to ignore these doubts, you really should, but they cloud your thoughts anyway. Joel had already been through so much with his daughter, Sarah, and his adoptive daughter, Ellie. He’d long since confided both of their stories to you, he had told you how the death of his daughter had shattered him and how his cross country trip with Ellie had broken him back down once more. What if the pregnancy brought up all the bad memories and traumas for him? What if it was too much for him to go through the process of raising, caring, and protecting another kid?

That’s not even mentioning your own personal worries of the pregnancy. You knew Jackson was one of the safest places left, but that doesn’t mean that it is completely safe from the outside world. The town often had enough raids from hunters to remind you of that fact, and the hordes of infected wandering up north and getting closer to town were of no comfort to these worries either. And what about all the possible complications? Things could always go south and put you at risk. You could die giving birth, the baby could die, both of you could die. You both could end up as just another name on Joel’s list of loss. You didn’t want to be another source of pain for him, you didn’t want to hurt the man you loved like that. 

So you don’t tell him. You continue to smile at him over the rim of your mug each morning. You continue to live your life around Jackson like nothing is different and you live in fear of the day you can no longer hide yourself from the man you love.

---

Months pass and you continue working. You continued patrols with Joel and you kept putting on the facade that everything was fine and like there wasn’t a constant fight going on in your head. Joel of course ever observant gave you worried looks like he could see through your mask, but never brought it up nor asked you what was troubling you. It was tearing you apart being the only one that knew and unable to bring yourself to say anything. 

The nausea and morning sickness started to fade around the three month mark and you were truly overjoyed to not be waking up feeling ill each morning. But of course there had to be a downside. You only got another two weeks without the morning sickness before you noticed the thing that was going to be your undoing. 

You had been pulling on your jeans, getting ready for the day’s patrol- one of the longer routes and you’d be accompanied by both Joel and Tommy- only when it got to buttoning them, you couldn’t. You’d noticed them getting a little tight, but had hoped that you’d have more time. Luck had never been on your side however, so as you struggled with the button you could feel your heart in your throat as your panic started to take ahold of you. 

After several minutes you gave up, knowing your struggle was going to stay fruitless. Looking around your room for a solution, you paused on your spare pair of boots. As quickly as possible you dethreaded both sets of shoelaces and slipped them through your jean’s belt loops as many times as possible before tying the sides together and zipping the jeans closed as much as you could. 

After shoving your boots that still had their laces on, you raced downstairs and rushed out an apology as you slipped your coat on, the weather still holding its chill.

“Sorry I couldn’t find my warm sweater. Let’s go before Tommy starts complaining about us holding him up.”

Joel just shook his head with a fond smile, holding your bag out for you to take as you passed to leave the house. 

The walk to the front gate was quiet, the morning sun just gracing the horizon as you rubbed your hands together and slipped them into your pockets for your gloves which you hurriedly pulled on. Like you had predicted, once you reached the gate, Tommy stood next to his horse with his arms crossed and he spoke up as you and Joel approached, “What took you both so long? Coulda slept in in my nice warm bed if I’d known you’d be late.”

You rolled your eyes as Joel helped you up onto your horse and he replied, “Someone couldn’t find their warm sweater even though it was hanging right there in the closet.”

Gasping, you nudged Joel’s shoulder with the toe of your boot as he walked away, grumbling, “Just throw me under the bus why don’t you. See if I agree to go on anymore patrols with you two.”

Tommy laughs as he swings onto his own horse before leading the three of you out of Jackson and out towards your path for the day.

The three of you travel in silence for a little bit, you yourself enjoying listening to the early morning bird songs. Once you all get to the first sign-in point, you all take the chance for a pause and a stretch. You walk around the converted home, stopping to look through the bay window in one of the upstairs bedrooms. The room was clearly a kid’s room, the walls painted with fields and a barn and farmhouse surrounded by houses, cattle, chickens, and bison. The bed one of those that grew with a kid, going from cradle to toddler bed. Toys and stuffies long forgotten and scattered around the room. You leaned down and picked one up, a weathered build-a-bear wearing a pair of faux denim overalls and a red handkerchief. Gently you wiped the dirt and dust off the eyes, letting the black plastic shine once again. 

Without realizing it, one of your hands drifted down to lay on your lower abdomen as you swallowed heavily and your eyes start to water. But you don’t get too far, as a soft knock on the door behind you brings you back. Turning, you find Joel looking over you, eyes slightly worried as he holds out a small pack of dried fruit. You give him a small smile and set the bear down on the bed before grabbing the food, noticing the hand on your stomach, quickly laughing and patting the hand there saying, “You must have heard my stomach growl downstairs.”

Taking your lead Joel gave you a grin replying, “Thought there was a runner up here from all the noise it was making.”

You huffed a laugh, kissing Joel’s cheek as you walked back downstairs and let out a sigh of thanks to whoever let you get away that easily with such a terrible lie. But you didn’t dwell on it, the three of you hopping onto your horses and setting out on the trail once more. 

As you went this time, Joel and Tommy passed the time with conversation. You though just listened to them, eating the fruit Joel had given you and occasionally adding little input when prompted. 

Tommy made mention that the meat stores were running a little low and he’d been asked to try and catch a deer if he could. That led the two down a conversation over how the food stores as a whole were doing and if there needed to be any supply runs anytime soon. You however zoned out at this knowing they would probably get wrapped up in the conversation. Instead you looked around as you rode, both to keep an eye out for anything and to keep your mind busy. Not that it worked as your mind drifted.

You were starting to show and while it wasn’t too noticeable right now, it would only be a matter of time before nothing fit and you’d be forced to tell Joel, or he’d figure it all out himself. At this point you're worried over his anger at being left in the dark over this for so long as well, adding to the number of worries you already held. The doctor had told you on your last check up that all your stress and worrying was causing your blood pressure to raise and that worried him. He had urged you to take a break, to try and relax but you couldn’t, not when relaxing meant your thoughts would be given more time to circle and bring you more stress and worry. You just wished all of this would disappear, that everything was fine and you only had to worry about the usual things like hunters and infected. You hated yourself for it, because you had truly not wanted it, but in the beginning you had hoped and prayed that something would happen, that this would go away and you wouldn’t have to tell Joel. But here you are and you should have known that this child being part Joel meant it wasn’t going to give up, that it was going to be there no matter how hard they had to fight, and fuck did you already love the little devil, but the worry it brought left you breaking apart. 

Hearing your name shouted pulled you from your thoughts. Jerking your head you met Joel’s worried and confused look as he said, “Come on, Tommy is gonna go start a fire for us all to warm up an’ I spotted some deer tracks so you an’ me are gonna go see if we can find anything…..you good?”

Looking around, you noticed the three of you had reached the next sign in spot on the patrol route while you had been lost in your thoughts. Turning back to Joel you nodded before sliding from your horse and tying her up.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, just got a little lost in thought. Sorry.”

Joel just nodded slowly, his worried look not leaving, before he nodded his head to the right, saying, “The tracks lead this way.”

You nod, and grab your rifle from your shoulder, and start to follow after him, watching the tracks as the two of you go. It didn’t take long to catch up to the deer, the pretty female gazing on an open patch of grass only a fifteen minute or so walk from where you both had left Tommy and the horses. Quietly, both you and Joel looked through your scopes that the deer as she slowly stepped and ate at the patch of grass. You had had a clear shot, and were about to take it, knowing Joel’s own was blocked by a thin tree in front of him, but you paused when you saw movement next to her and that’s when you saw the small fauntling clinging close to its mother’s legs.

For some reason all of your worries came to a head as you saw the two together, and your hands shook as you put your rifle down. Joel turned to you confused as he had yet to notice the baby, so you just turned to him and shook your head and pressed your fingers to your lips before pointing to the deer and cradling your arms, signing to him that she had a baby with her. Joel took another quick look and sighed, putting his rifle down as well when he finally saw the fawn. 

The two of you started back to Tommy to tell him that the prints had been a dead end, but halfway back you couldn’t help but pause, and say, “Do you ever feel jealous of them?”

Confused, Joel turned to look at you where you stood and shook his head as he said, “What?”

You sigh and refuse to meet his eyes as you motion back to where the deer were, clearing your throat.

“The animals. Do you ever get jealous over how they aren’t chased after like we are, how they can’t turn into monsters that become murderous and hunt down the rest of their species? They just have to worry about running fast enough away from those of us that are living so they don’t become some terribly seasoned stew.”

Joel takes a step towards you, reaching a hand out to cup your shoulder, and says your name, “Where is this coming from? Does this have to do with what’s had you so stressed lately?”

You opened your mouth to reply, to brush it all away and just say nevermind, that it didn’t matter it was only a thought, but you met Joel’s eyes, the hazel swirling with concern and his voice laced with the need to help. In that moment every reply is lost to your tongue and your eyes swell with tears as you utter the words you’d been so terrified to share.

“Joel, I’m pregnant.”

The seconds ticked like hours as you realized you finally let the truth slip. As you watched the emotions filter over Joel’s face. Surprise, confusion, worry….wonder. His eyes danced around your figure as a single tear finally slipped.

“You’re sure?”

You nodded choppily and you gave him a timid smile.

“Yeah…turns out you were right months ago, it was never the flu,” you paused, taking a shuddering breath before continuing, “I…. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I-I just didn’t know how and my head kept fueling all these ‘what ifs’ around my thoughts and I just didn’t know how to handle it but god I should have told you and I am sorry.”

Gently, Joel cupped your face and wiped away the tears that had fallen as you apologized. He looked at you like you had just whispered to him the secret cure to the infection, one that didn’t involve Ellie. 

Joel’s eyes bounced between your own as he asked, “How far….how far along are you?”

“Almost three and a half months,” you reply, your stress slowly fading to the background and slipping away.

Joel, as if he could see all of your doubts over the last three months, looks you right in the eye as he says, “You don’t have to worry anymore. Nothing will happen to either of you, not under my watch.”

Have an idea or headcannon you want written for Joel? My askbox is open! Feel free to send it to me! Thanks for reading and check out my other Joel fics! <3

Masterlist