#my baby is finished…… at least until i write part two

[mcrdvcks]

Oblivious, Baby, Oblivious

Summary: People would tell you that geniuses don't know everything, but you tell them that defeats the purpose of the word. Until one day you're proven wrong.

Word Count: 17.4k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x fem!reader

Notes: i came up with this idea a few days ago and had to write it down. basically reader is a genius and her mutation is controlling nature (her code name is 'flora' but it's not used often. and yes, it's a winx club reference, sue me)

i tried to make it as inclusive as i could, but i'm still learning since this is only my second reader fic.

i would like to turn this into a oneshot series, so don't be afraid to send in any requests!

warnings: few uses of y/n, logan uses a lot of pet names for reader, slight innocent!reader

You had only been at the X-Mansion for a year and yet all the students seemed to love you. At first, you thought that no teenager would want to come out to the large greenhouse you had set up, but you were proven wrong.

At the end of every day, right before dinner, dozens of kids would come out and help you water the plants and pull out the weeds.

It was certainly not what you expected to do after college, especially after only having your PhD’s for 2 years. It had all started when you met Hank McCoy at a science conference in New York City. You had graduated a mere few weeks ago and were out trying to network when you met him.

After that, Hank took you to meet Charles Xavier and he offered you a two-sided job, teach a few classes and be part of the X-Men, after you went through some training. You didn’t know how to fight at the beginning, but now you think you’ve got the hang of it.

You had just finished teaching your advanced physics class, standing at your desk gathering up the papers before going to your office to grade them, when someone knocked on the open classroom door.

Logan stood leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, with that usual smirk tugging at his lips. “You done for the day, sweetheart?”

You looked up from the pile of papers, surprised to see him there, though you probably shouldn’t have been. Logan had this way of showing up whenever you least expected it, always with some sort of pet name that left your students giggling.

When you first arrived at the school and started your training, it was Logan and Ororo who helped you learn how to fight. You certainly were not on a level like Logan, but you now knew how to hold your own without completely relying on your powers.

Logan was probably the one you were closest to at the mansion, save for Ororo and Jean. You enjoyed his company, even in the late nights when you would tend to the plants and he would stand quietly nearby smoking a cigar.

“Just about,” you replied, straightening the stack. “I was going to head to my office and grade these. Why? You need something?”

Logan pushed himself off the doorframe and sauntered toward you, his boots thudding lightly against the floor. “Can’t a guy just drop by and check in on ya?”

You rolled your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “I guess, but somehow I doubt you’re just here to ‘check in.’” You shuffled the papers into a neat stack, slipping them into a folder. “So, what’s up?”

Logan shrugged, hands now in his jacket pockets as he stood a few feet away from your desk. “You’ve been buried in books and papers all week. Thought you could use a break.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’ll be done grading these in like an hour. It doesn’t take me long. Unlike someone else.”

Logan snorted, a small smile forming as he tilted his head at you. "Yeah, well, not all of us have two fancy PhDs and can finish things in a blink, darlin’."

You laughed softly, putting the papers into your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “You’re just mad because I keep proving I’m right.” You rounded your desk, smirking. “Plus, I’m having a movie night with Jean and Ororo. See? I can take breaks.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile as he leaned in just a little, casting you that knowing look he always had when he was teasing you. “Movie night, huh? Lemme guess—something boring and science-y?”

You scoffed, shaking your head as you zipped up your bag. “Not every movie night is a science documentary, Logan.”

“Mmhmm,” he replied, the teasing drawl in his voice making it clear he didn’t believe you for a second. “So, what are you watchin’, then? Some quantum physics thriller?”

You rolled your eyes, grinning. “It’s The Princess Diaries this time, actually. But I do like documentaries, so don’t knock them.”

Logan chuckled, the sound low and deep, and for a moment it made you forget the pile of grading still waiting for you. “I’ll let it slide this time, darlin’. But if I hear you talkin’ about how accurate the physics are in some movie during your ‘break,’ I’m dragging you out of that mansion myself.”

You gave him a mock-serious look. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I would,” he shot back, his smirk widening. “And we both know I could.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he wasn’t wrong. Logan had a way of just picking you up—literally—and dragging you away when he thought you’d been working too hard. Sometimes you suspected he enjoyed it a little too much.

Before you could retort, Logan's expression softened slightly. “Look, Y/N, I’m serious. You’ve been bustin’ your ass all week. Go take a real break tonight, will ya?”

There it was again. That rare softness he showed only to you, like the tough exterior melted away for just a second. You never really knew how to respond when he got like that, so you shrugged casually and smiled. “I’ll take it easy tonight. Promise.”

“Good,” he said, his voice gruff but warm. “’Cause I don’t wanna hear about you passin’ out from exhaustion or whatever it is geniuses do when they work themselves to death.”

You walked to the door and turned back to face him, “Einstein slept 10 hours during the night and took regular naps.” You gave him a wink and walked down the hall towards your office, a satisfied smirk on your face.

Logan watched you disappear down the hallway, shaking his head with a faint smile. He wasn't sure when it started, but something about your energy, the way you threw yourself into everything—whether it was the students, your research, or even the X-Men's missions—had caught his attention. And now, it was hard to get you out of his head, let alone his senses.

He could always tell when you were nearby or recently in an area—your perfume was inherently you, mango with an undercurrent of something woodsy. And you always looked cute, a word Logan thought he’d never use. You constantly wore colors, usually pastels in varying shades, whether it be a shirt, your shoes, or even accessories in your hair. It was almost ridiculous how someone with two PhDs and the kind of brain that could out-think just about everyone around her could be so oblivious to certain things.

And that was why he found you so fascinating.

You were brilliant, no doubt about it—always talking about equations, theories, and whatever else you’d been reading about. But somehow, you never seemed to notice when he was flirting with you, which had become Logan's new favorite game. He knew exactly what he was doing when he called you varying nicknames.

It wasn’t like it was a secret either; pretty much everyone at the mansion had picked up on it. Hell, even the students were in on it, giggling whenever Logan tossed a pet name your way or gave you one of those half-smirks that drove everyone else insane.

Everyone except you, apparently.

You walked down the hall, completely unaware of the looks you were getting, or the fact that Logan’s eyes lingered a bit longer than they should have as you disappeared around the corner. Shaking his head, he let out a low chuckle before heading toward the garage. Maybe a ride on his bike would clear his head, though it probably wouldn’t. You had a way of sticking in his mind, even when you weren’t around.

---

Later that night, you were sprawled on the couch in one of the common rooms, sandwiched between Jean and Ororo as the three of you laughed at the antics on screen. The Princess Diaries was playing, and though you’d seen it a dozen times, it never failed to make you laugh.

You had your hair tied up and off your neck, and you were dressed in one of your usual casual outfits—leggings and an oversized hoodie that probably belonged to one of the guys in the mansion, though you couldn’t remember who. Logan’s scent faintly lingered on it, but you didn't think much of it.

You shifted comfortably, pulling your legs up to curl under you as Jean and Ororo sat on either side, each of you clutching bowls of popcorn and laughing at the antics in The Princess Diaries.

“I still don’t get how a movie about a teenager becoming a princess is this funny,” Jean said, shaking her head as she stuffed another handful of popcorn into her mouth. “Like, shouldn’t it be cheesy?”

“It is cheesy,” you countered, laughing as Mia slipped and fell in the movie. “But it’s good cheesy. There’s a difference.”

Ororo chuckled, glancing at you with an amused smile. “You’ve seen this how many times now?”

“Don’t judge me,” you teased, tossing a piece of popcorn in her direction, which she easily swatted away with a smirk. “This is a classic.”

Jean raised an eyebrow, giving you a playful nudge. “More classic than, say, 2001: A Space Odyssey? That seems more your speed.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “Not every movie I watch has to be some cerebral masterpiece, Jean.”

Ororo smiled knowingly. “Mmm, true, but you’re always spouting off facts about space or physics during random moments in these movies.”

“That’s because science is everywhere!” you replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You can’t not notice when something’s wrong.”

Jean grinned. “Like that time you paused Star Wars just to give us a lecture on how light speed doesn’t work like that?”

You huffed a laugh. “Well, it doesn’t. It’s all—”

“Science, we know,” Ororo finished, sharing a look with Jean that made you roll your eyes again.

“Okay, okay,” you conceded, holding up your hands. “I’ll try not to nerd out tonight.”

“That’s all we ask,” Jean said, smirking as she leaned back on the couch, throwing a kernel of popcorn into her mouth.

For the next hour or so, the three of you watched the movie without incident, though you had to bite your tongue more than once. A promise was a promise, after all.

When the movie ended, Ororo stretched and got up from the couch. “Alright, I’m heading to bed. I’ve got an early class tomorrow.”

“Same,” Jean said, standing and offering you a soft smile.

“Guess I’ll get ready for bed too, then.” You replied. Each of you headed to your rooms, Jean shared one with Scott down the hall from you, and Ororo’s room was close by theirs.

Your room was full of plants, small vines on the walls and windowsills, along with potted flowers across the room. It had been habit ever since you learned about your powers to always be surrounded by them, it gave you a sense of peace.

Taking off your clothes you got into the shower, where more plants were, including a rhaphidophora tetrasperma and a maidenhair fern.

You smiled to yourself, relishing the small oasis you’d created in your bathroom. The plants thrived in here, the humidity of your showers mimicking their natural habitat. It was a simple pleasure to see something flourish under your care, which was probably why you always surrounded yourself with greenery.

You rinsed off, the water now lukewarm as it cascaded over you, and turned the shower off. Wrapping a towel around yourself, you stepped out, the cool air hitting your skin as you moved toward the mirror. You wiped a hand across the fogged glass, revealing your reflection. You took off your shower cap, letting your hair free from its constraints.

There was a faint knock at your door, and you glanced toward it, frowning. Who would be knocking at this hour?

“Y/N?” Logan’s voice came from the other side. “You still awake?”

Your eyes widened slightly. What was Logan doing here? You quickly pulled on some comfortable clothes—an oversized t-shirt and shorts—before cracking the door open to find Logan leaning against the frame, his usual smirk in place.

“Logan? It’s kind of late. What’s up?” you asked, holding the door open just enough for him to see you but not enough to fully invite him in.

He shrugged, his eyes briefly scanning you before locking on yours. “Came by to see if you wanted to take a walk. Figured you might still be awake.”

You blinked, taken aback. “A walk? Now?”

“Yeah,” he replied casually, as if asking you to go for a walk at nearly midnight was the most normal thing in the world. “You’re always sayin’ how you like the way the plants look at night. Thought maybe you’d want some fresh air.”

You hesitated for a moment, considering his offer. You had planned on heading to bed soon, but you couldn’t deny the appeal of a nighttime walk—especially with Logan. The mansion grounds were peaceful at this hour, and the idea of walking among the moonlit flowers sounded tempting.

“Alright,” you said, pushing the door open the rest of the way. “Let me put on some shoes.”

Logan nodded, leaning back against the doorframe as he waited, his arms crossing over his chest. You slipped on a pair of sneakers, quickly tying the laces.

“Ready,” you said, adjusting your shirt and stepping out into the hallway.

Logan pushed off the frame and started walking beside you, his steps easy and casual. The mansion was quiet, most of the students already asleep, and you could hear the soft hum of night settling in as you both made your way outside. The cool air greeted you as you stepped into the garden, and you couldn’t help but smile as the scent of flowers and earth filled your senses.

“So,” Logan said after a moment, his hands sliding into his jacket pockets, “how was the movie?”

You smiled, glancing at him. “It was good. A classic, really.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Jean and Ororo didn’t give you a hard time?”

You chuckled. “Well, they did try to poke fun at my love for science, but nothing too bad. It was all in good fun.”

Logan smirked. “Yeah, they like to tease. Just means they’re comfortable around ya.”

You gave a small nod, your gaze shifting to the moonlit flowers around you. You loved the way the plants seemed to glow in the night, the way everything felt so peaceful at this hour. It was one of the reasons you often came out here at night when the mansion was quiet and still.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a while, the soft sounds of nature surrounding you. Logan didn’t say much, but that was one of the things you liked about him—he didn’t need to fill the air with pointless conversation. He was just… there, steady and solid, like the trees you so loved to be around.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, taking in his relaxed posture, the way his jacket hung off his broad shoulders, and the ever-present smirk tugging at his lips. You wondered briefly what he thought of these walks. He always seemed to show up at the right moments, offering his company when you needed it most, even if you didn’t realize you needed it at the time.

“So, Logan,” you started, your voice casual as you glanced at a cluster of moonlit lilies, “what’s the real reason you wanted to walk tonight? I know you didn’t just suddenly decide to take in the scenery.”

He chuckled, low and deep, as he shifted his gaze to the path ahead. “Maybe I like the scenery more than I let on.”

“Right,” you teased, arching an eyebrow. “Because I’ve definitely seen you out here admiring the roses before.”

“Who says I’m talkin’ about the roses, sweetheart?”

You rolled your eyes, though a faint smile played at your lips. “Uh-huh. Keep dreaming, Logan.”

There was that playful glint in his eyes again, the one you’d grown used to but never quite understood. He always had this way of teasing you—soft, subtle comments that seemed to amuse him more than anything else. It wasn’t like you minded, though. You liked the banter, even if you never quite knew why he seemed to engage in it with you so much.

You gave him a sidelong glance, but Logan’s expression remained as it usually did—a little cocky, a little mysterious, his hands resting casually in his jacket pockets as he walked alongside you. The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows across the path, and you found your gaze drifting back to the flowers blooming in the gardens. The peace of the night wrapped around you like a soft blanket, and for a moment, you almost forgot Logan was there.

“Y’know,” Logan said after a stretch of silence, his voice low and lazy, “you really are a mystery, sweetheart.”

You blinked, turning to him with a slight frown. “What do you mean by that?”

Logan shrugged, his eyes briefly flicking to yours before looking ahead again. “You’re this genius, right? Got two PhDs, can out-think just about anyone in the room. But sometimes… you’re completely clueless.”

You scoffed, giving him an incredulous look. “Clueless? Me? I don’t think that’s possible.”

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, and he shook his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that teasing smile. “Yeah, darlin’. Clueless. You know a hell of a lot about a lot of things, but when it comes to readin’ people? Not so much.”

Your frown deepened. “I think I read people just fine, Logan.”

He stopped walking then, turning to face you with a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Oh, do ya?”

“Yeah,” you insisted, crossing your arms over your chest. “I spend a lot of time around people. I know how to pick up on things.”

Logan’s smile widened, like he was holding back laughter. “Is that so?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, confused by the sudden shift in conversation. “Yes, that’s so. What are you getting at?”

Logan’s grin widened as he saw you narrow your eyes, your arms crossed in clear frustration. There was something about how easily he could rile you up, how your normally sharp mind would stumble whenever he teased you, that made him enjoy these moments even more.

“You’re dodging the question,” you pressed, sensing that his silence was deliberate. “What are you getting at?”

Logan shrugged nonchalantly, leaning against the nearest tree, his usual smirk in place. “I’m just sayin’, for someone who’s supposed to be a genius, you don’t always see what’s right in front of you.”

You let out a huff, clearly not satisfied with his answer. “I see everything just fine, Logan. You’re not exactly subtle, you know.”

“Subtle, huh?” Logan echoed, his grin softening into a more thoughtful expression. “Maybe I’m not. Or maybe you’re just a little too focused on the wrong things.”

You stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate, but as usual, Logan didn’t offer anything more. He simply stood there, his eyes watching you carefully, as if enjoying the little mystery he’d planted in your mind. You could practically see the amusement dancing behind his gaze.

“This is just another one of your games, isn’t it?” you muttered, though there was no real bite in your tone. “You like keeping me guessing.”

“Maybe,” he said with a wink. “Keeps things interestin’, don’t ya think?”

You rolled your eyes again, turning away from him as you started walking down the path. You weren’t going to let him keep you on edge like this. You had better things to think about than whatever half-assed answer Logan was playing at tonight.

Logan fell into step beside you, his hands tucked back into his pockets. The two of you walked in silence for a bit longer, and despite the earlier tension, you found yourself relaxing once more. The garden was quiet, the night cool and calm. Logan’s presence, as always, was steady beside you, even if he did like to mess with your head sometimes.

“You know,” you began after a while, your voice softer now, “just because I’m a genius doesn’t mean I’m completely oblivious to people. I do pick up on things.”

Logan shot you a sideways glance, that infuriating smirk back on his face. “Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you say.”

“I’m serious!” you insisted, though a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “I just… maybe I’m not as concerned with people’s motives as much as I am with facts and data. It’s different.”

Logan gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. “That’s part of the problem, doll. You think you can figure out everything like it’s a puzzle. But people? We’re a little more complicated than that.”

You tilted your head, thinking about that. “I don’t see why it has to be complicated. People say what they mean, don’t they?”

Logan paused for a moment, his smirk turning into something more thoughtful. “Not always.”

There was a heaviness in his voice that made you glance up at him, but before you could ask what he meant, he turned his head away, eyes focused on something in the distance. The moment passed, and Logan was back to his usual self, his grin in place as if nothing had happened.

“Anyway,” he said, changing the subject, “how’s your latest project goin’? Still messing with those gadgets?”

You sighed, the shift in conversation allowing you to relax again. “Yeah, still working on a few prototypes. Hank’s been helping me out with some of the materials, but we’re having trouble stabilizing the energy output.”

Logan nodded, listening with genuine interest. “Sounds like somethin’ you’ll figure out soon enough.”

“I hope so,” you said with a small smile. “But it’s been a little frustrating.”

“Not used to runnin’ into roadblocks, huh?” Logan teased.

“Not really,” you admitted, a touch of sheepishness in your tone. “I’m used to things coming together quickly once I have all the information. This one��s been… tricky.”

Logan gave a low hum of understanding. “That’s the thing about science, sweetheart. It ain’t always predictable.”

“Yeah, but I like predictability,” you said with a shrug. “It makes sense. People, on the other hand…”

Logan laughed at that, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”

The two of you continued your walk, the conversation drifting to lighter topics—projects, students at the mansion, the occasional prank pulled by one of the younger mutants. You liked how easy it was to talk to Logan, even when he teased you or left you hanging on a thought. He was always there, listening, offering his dry commentary when it was needed.

As you walked, you found yourself glancing at him every now and then, taking in the way the moonlight caught his features, the rough stubble on his jaw, the confident way he carried himself. You didn’t understand why he spent so much time around you, especially when he had no trouble being alone or doing his own thing. Logan didn’t seem like the type to go out of his way for someone, and yet… here he was.

“Logan?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Yeah?” he replied, his gaze shifting to you.

“Why do you do this?”

He frowned, genuinely confused. “Do what?”

“Walk with me. Spend time with me. You’re not exactly the most sociable guy around here.”

Logan gave a low chuckle, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Maybe I like your company, sweetheart. Ever think of that?”

You blinked, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. It wasn’t like Logan to be so direct about… feelings. You weren’t sure how to respond, so you simply looked away, feeling a slight warmth creeping up your cheeks.

“I guess I never really thought about it,” you admitted after a moment.

Logan’s smirk returned, but there was something softer behind it this time. “That’s ‘cause you’re too busy thinkin’ about everythin’ else, doll.”

You didn’t respond right away, still processing his words. Logan wasn’t one to lay things out so plainly, but when he did, it always seemed to catch you off guard. He had this way of making you question things—yourself, your understanding of the world—without ever really giving you any answers. It was frustrating, but at the same time, it was… endearing.

As the two of you walked back toward the mansion, the quiet settling over you once more, you couldn’t help but wonder what Logan had meant earlier. About you being ‘clueless.’ It wasn’t like you didn’t notice things—sure, people had their layers, but you weren’t blind to them. So what was he talking about?

---

The next morning, you were back in your usual routine—teaching classes, working in the greenhouse, and helping the students with their studies. It was a busy day, but you didn’t mind. The students were eager to learn, and you found a sense of satisfaction in watching them grow and develop their skills.

After your last class, you made your way to the greenhouse, your favorite part of the day. The students had already watered the plants earlier, so you spent some time pruning and checking on the growth of the flowers and vegetables.

The sound of footsteps approaching caught your attention, and you turned to see Logan leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you said, glancing up from the plant you were tending to.

Logan shrugged. “Figured I’d stop by. See how you’re doin’.”

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “You checking up on me again?”

He chuckled. “Someone’s gotta keep an eye on ya, sweetheart.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you turned back to your plants. “I’m fine, Logan. Really.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, his voice closer now. You glanced over your shoulder to see him standing just a few feet away, watching you with that same unreadable expression he always seemed to have around you. “But it doesn’t hurt to check in every now and then.”

Logan looked over at a large strawberry plant in the corner, it seemed to have a lot of yield, bright red strawberries hanging from the branches.

“You ever try a strawberry with no pesticides?” You asked, standing up from the ground and taking off your gloves. You looked around the plant before pulling what you thought looked to be the best of the bunch, holding it out for him. Since it was August, the strawberries were soon going to go out of season, so this was the last good batch you were going to get.

Logan raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly as he eyed the fruit in your hand. "I’ve had my share of wild strawberries, sweetheart, but never from your garden.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping closer to him with the strawberry still outstretched. “Wild strawberries? Really, Logan? This is organic, homegrown perfection. Totally different experience.”

He chuckled, finally taking the strawberry from you, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief second. It was so brief you didn’t think much of it, but Logan’s smirk softened into something more genuine as he popped the strawberry into his mouth.

“Well?” you asked, watching him expectantly. “What do you think?”

Logan chewed slowly, his eyes not leaving yours. “Sweet,” he finally said, his voice low. “Real sweet.”

You smiled, pleased with his answer, though you didn’t quite catch the way his gaze lingered on you as he said it. “Told you,” you said, turning back to the plant to grab a strawberry for yourself. “Fresh strawberries are unbeatable.”

He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched you take a bite. “You take real pride in this, don’t ya?”

“Of course,” you said, glancing at him between bites. “There’s something rewarding about growing things. Watching them thrive under the right conditions. It’s like… I don’t know, creating life.”

Logan’s eyes softened as he listened to you talk, his smirk fading into something more thoughtful. “You care a lot about the little det- ” He was cut off by surprise, your thumb brushing the corner of his lips wiping off some of the strawberry juice.

You seemed to not think much about it, nor did you notice Logan’s heart sped up with your simple touch. It was over quick, you let out a soft gasp and walked behind him, looking up at a vine at the top where you saw a few ripe kiwis.

You reached your palm out, focusing your energy on the vines at the top of the greenhouse. They shifted gently, as if responding to your silent command, dropping three ripe kiwis into your hand. You grinned, knowing Jean would appreciate the fresh fruit later. It wasn’t easy growing kiwis in New York, but your powers made up for the climate’s shortcomings. Nature seemed to bend to your will, a fact you took quiet pride in, even though you’d never flaunt it.

Meanwhile, Logan was still in slight shock from your gesture, he could almost feel the spot where your thumb brushed against him, almost as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And you did it without thinking, in fact, you still didn’t seem to notice him looking at your back as you picked a few bunches of basil.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. It wasn’t just the way you talked about plants or how your hands moved with skill and grace—it was you, completely unaware of how you affected him. Completely unaware that his heart rate had spiked at the smallest, most innocent touch.

“Something wrong?” you asked, not even turning around as you picked at the herbs.

Logan blinked, pulling himself out of his thoughts. “Nah, just... thinkin’. You’re somethin’, you know that?”

You gave a short laugh, pausing to glance back at him over your shoulder. “If that’s your way of saying I’m a genius again, I already know.”

He chuckled, moving to stand a bit closer. “That’s not exactly what I meant, sweetheart.” His voice was low, with that familiar gravelly tone he used when teasing you.

But as usual, the hint flew right past you. “Well, whatever it is, I’ll take it as a compliment.” You plucked another handful of basil leaves, slipping them into a small basket on the bench. “And you should try to be more specific next time, Logan. It helps with communication.”

“Specific, huh?” Logan leaned a little against the workbench beside you, arms crossed. “Alright then, you’re smart, sure. But there’s more to it than that. You... you just do things without even thinking about it. Like earlier.” His eyes flickered briefly to your hand.

You frowned a little, confused. “Earlier? You mean the strawberry thing? Or when I wiped the juice off your face?”

“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “That.”

You blinked, not understanding why he was making such a big deal of it. “Logan, it was just strawberry juice. You looked like you were about to walk into a meeting with half a fruit smeared on your face.”

Logan let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, doll. I get that.” He watched as you turned back to your plants, completely oblivious to the fact that what had been a small, thoughtless gesture for you had stirred something deeper for him. He found it both amusing and frustrating—not in an annoying way, but in a way that made him want to get closer to you, to push the boundaries just a little more.

“So,” you said, shifting the subject as you snipped a bit more basil. “What’s got you wandering into the greenhouse today? It’s not exactly your usual haunt.”

Logan leaned back, watching you with those intense eyes of his. “Just felt like stoppin’ by. Spend some time with you. Ain’t that a good enough reason?”

You rolled your eyes, though your smile was genuine. “I suppose. It’s just... you don’t usually care about plants and stuff.”

“Well, maybe I’m changin’,” Logan said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You shook your head, laughing softly. “I’ll believe that when I see it.” You paused, glancing at him as you picked up a watering can. “So... you wanna help?”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Me? Helpin’ with your garden?”

“Why not?” you asked, stepping closer to him. “You’ve got hands, don’t you? It’s not all that complicated.”

He chuckled, reaching out to take the watering can from you, brushing his fingers against yours for a second time. “Alright, sweetheart, show me how it’s done.”

You handed him the can and pointed to a row of lavender plants nearby. “Just give them a little water. Not too much though—they don’t like it when their roots get too wet.”

Logan followed your instructions with a kind of amused curiosity, watching as the water trickled from the can onto the plants. It wasn’t the kind of thing he normally found himself doing, but there was something about the simplicity of it, something about you, that made it... well, not so bad.

“You really know your stuff, don’t ya?” Logan remarked after a few moments, his voice carrying a hint of admiration.

“Well, yeah,” you said, turning to grab some tools from a nearby shelf. “I’ve been doing this for a while. Plus, it’s kind of in my wheelhouse, you know? With the whole ‘controlling nature’ thing.”

Logan smirked, setting the watering can down as he leaned against the bench again. “Yeah, I’ve seen you do some pretty wild things with those powers of yours. But you don’t talk about ‘em much.”

“I talk to them.” You said, hiding a grin from growing on your face.

“Really?” he asked, surprised.

You laughed as you stood up, throwing a few weeds in a separate basket. “No. I was joking!”

Logan let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head at you. “You got me there, sweetheart,” he said, still leaning against the bench, watching you with that ever-present smirk on his face.

You grabbed a nearby hose, turning the water on low to rinse your hands. "Can't believe you thought I was serious. I mean, I get along with plants, but I don’t have full-on conversations with them. That’d be weird."

"Wouldn't surprise me with you, doll," Logan replied, still watching you intently. "You seem to know what everything around here needs, even without talkin' to 'em."

You shrugged, drying your hands on a towel. "It’s just intuition, I guess. Plants give off signals if you know how to read them."

Logan gave you a long look, his smirk softening into something almost affectionate, though you didn’t notice. "You sure it's just the plants you read that well?"

You looked up at him, confused for a second, but quickly shook your head, dismissing his comment. "Are you gonna keep talking, or are you actually going to help me?”

Logan pushed himself off the bench, standing up straight. "Alright, alright. Where do you want me, doll?"

You handed him the basket full of weeds, “throw them out.”

He raised an eyebrow, “that’s it?”

You handed Logan the basket of weeds, his hand brushing against yours for the third time today. He smirked slightly, but you, as usual, were completely unaware of the subtle tension.

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed in response to his earlier question, balancing two baskets filled with freshly picked fruits, vegetables, and herbs in your arms. “I’m gonna lock up and bring these inside.”

Logan didn’t move for a second, watching as you turned your back and headed toward the door, the sound of your footsteps echoing softly in the greenhouse. For someone so sharp, so brilliant, you seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he enjoyed these little moments with you.

That small, unspoken connection you two had—the one where you never quite seemed to notice that he was flirting with you—had started to become his favorite part of the day. Even if it had been going on for 8 months, and yes, he was counting.

As you reached for the lock on the greenhouse door, you glanced over your shoulder. “You’re still standing there, Logan. Are you gonna help or just watch me carry all this stuff by myself?”

Logan’s smirk widened. “Oh, I was just enjoyin' the view, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, missing the deeper meaning in his words, as usual. “Right. Well, the view can help me with these baskets if it’s not too busy.”

Logan chuckled softly, walking over to you and easily taking one of the baskets from your hands. “You got it, doll. I’ll lend a hand.”

Together, you made your way toward the mansion, the quiet of the late afternoon settling around you. It was peaceful, in that way you liked—just the sound of your footsteps on the gravel path, the faint rustle of leaves in the distance, and the low hum of the cicadas in the trees. Logan had quickly thrown away the weeds and rejoined you, taking the other basket out of your hand, saying something about how he was ‘being a gentleman.’

You both entered the mansion from the back door, making your way to the kitchen where Logan placed the baskets on the island. Jean and Scott were already in there, Jean making her way over to the two baskets.

You, having an inkling for what she was looking for, reached into one of the baskets and pulled out the 3 kiwis. You handed the kiwis over to Jean, a smile playing on your lips as she quickly clutched them to her chest, almost like they were gold. It wasn’t the first time she’d done this, and it always amused you. Scott, of course, tried to intervene, reaching out to snatch one, but Jean shot him a look that was part-serious, part-playful.

“Hey, those are for me,” she said, moving slightly to block Scott’s hand. “I’ve been waiting for these kiwis all week.”

Scott smirked but backed off, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I wouldn’t want to get on your bad side, babe.”

Jean gave him a victorious smile, then turned to you. “Thanks, Y/N. You always come through with the best fruit.”

“Of course,” you replied, wiping your hands on a nearby towel. “You’ve been asking for kiwis since the season started, so I figured it was about time I delivered.”

Logan, still standing nearby, watched the interaction with a subtle smirk on his face. He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, looking completely relaxed but attentive.

“You sure know how to make people happy, doll,” Logan said, his voice low but teasing. “Always goin’ above and beyond for everyone.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, as if it was no big deal. “It’s just a few kiwis, Logan. Nothing special.”

Jean, now satisfied with her prized fruit, glanced between the two of you with a curious look, sensing something in Logan’s tone. She had noticed the way he’d been hanging around you more than usual lately, and it wasn’t hard to pick up on the little glances he threw your way when you weren’t looking. Of course, you remained blissfully unaware of it all, as always.

“You’re selling yourself short,” Jean said, throwing you a grin. “It’s not just the kiwis. You’ve practically turned the greenhouse into a mini-Eden. We all appreciate it, even if Scott can’t admit he’s jealous of my fruit.”

Scott rolled his eyes, but his smile betrayed him. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks for the garden, Y/N.”

You smiled at the compliment, though it didn’t feel like anything out of the ordinary to you. Taking care of the plants, helping out with the students, it was all part of your routine. You liked it that way—predictable, manageable. You didn’t dwell on the subtleties of interpersonal dynamics the way others seemed to.

Logan’s smirk widened slightly at Jean’s comment, but he kept quiet, watching you interact with the others. There was something about the way you brushed off compliments so easily, like you didn’t quite grasp how much people appreciated you around here.

You had already put a few strawberries in a glass bowl, making your way out of the kitchen to Ororo’s office without saying a word, something they were already used to.

“You sure you’re not going to say anything? You know, that’s actually straight to the point?” Jean asked Logan.

Scott reached into one of the baskets, pulling out a few blueberries, “at this point, you’re like a love-sick puppy following her around.”

Logan let out a low growl, plucking a strawberry out from the basket. “Keep talking dickhead.” He threatened.

Jean raised an eyebrow as she leaned against the counter, her sharp eyes flicking between Logan and Scott. "He’s not wrong though, Logan. You’ve been spending more time with Y/N than usual. We’ve all noticed."

Logan grunted, pushing himself off the counter and crossing his arms over his chest defensively. "She’s a good kid. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on her."

Scott smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Right, keepin' an eye on her. That's what we’re calling it now?"

Jean shot Scott a playful glare, but her attention quickly shifted back to Logan. “You know, you could just tell her how you feel. She’s oblivious, but she’s not stupid. Sooner or later, she’s going to notice.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and he glanced toward the door where you had just left. His emotions were complicated—he’d never been one for opening up, and the idea of confessing anything, especially something as vulnerable as his feelings for you, wasn’t exactly in his comfort zone. He had been through too much, lost too many people, and the thought of letting himself get close to someone again... well, it scared him more than he cared to admit.

“She’s got her own life,” Logan muttered, his voice gruff but softer now. “I ain’t lookin’ to mess that up.”

Jean sighed, walking over to stand next to Logan, her tone gentle but firm. “Logan, you’re not messing anything up. In fact, I think you’d be adding something important to her life. She’s not the type to see you as a burden or a distraction. She probably wouldn’t even realize you were flirting with her until you hit her over the head with it.”

Logan huffed a half-hearted laugh, but the tension in his shoulders remained. “Maybe that’s the problem. She’s too damn focused on other stuff to even see it.”

Jean smiled softly, placing a hand on Logan’s arm. “That’s what makes her so special, Logan. She’s genuine, selfless, and probably the least manipulative person in this mansion. She doesn’t play games—what you see is what you get. And she likes you, even if she doesn’t realize it in the same way you do yet.”

Scott, still lounging in his chair, added, “Plus, you know, if you wait too long, someone else might catch her eye. Just sayin’.”

Logan shot Scott a glare that could have melted steel. “Ain’t nobody else gonna catch her eye, Summers. Trust me on that.”

Jean chuckled softly, giving Logan’s arm a reassuring squeeze before stepping back. “Well, when you’re ready, just remember—it’s okay to take a chance on her. You might be surprised by how things turn out.”

Logan didn’t respond right away, his mind already spinning with conflicting thoughts. He appreciated Jean’s support, but the fear of rejection, of losing someone else important to him, gnawed at his insides. He wasn’t sure if he could handle it again. And what if telling you how he felt ruined the easy, comfortable dynamic you two had? What if he lost the one person in the mansion who treated him like a normal man instead of a gruff, dangerous mutant?

Jean and Scott exchanged a knowing glance, but they let Logan mull over his thoughts in silence. They could push him only so far before it was up to him to take the next step.

---

You were walking down the halls with your bag in over your shoulder, all you needed to do was get to your office and take these heels off.

They looked cute online, not too tall or high, had some cushion on the soles, but wearing them was a completely different story. Which was sad because they were a cute baby pink which went well with your button up baby pink cardigan and white jeans.

But your office seemed so far away with the stabbing pain in your feet, luckily the halls were empty since most of the students were in their rooms doing homework or relaxing before dinner.

Having enough of the pain, you crouched down to unbuckle your heels, your bag moving down your shoulder to your elbow.

“Need any help, princess?”

You looked up at the sound of the voice, even though you knew exactly who it was.

Logan stood there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. His eyes flicked down to your shoes before meeting your gaze again, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Need any help, princess?” His voice was low and casual, but that nickname—'princess’—it was just one of the many he’d taken to using when he spoke to you. Although you hadn’t heard this one before.

You shifted your bag back up on your shoulder and continued unbuckling the second heel. “I’ve got it, thanks,” you replied, not thinking too much of his presence. You’d known Logan long enough to realize he had a habit of showing up when you least expected him to.

He made a small grunt, as if to say ‘suit yourself,’ and watched as you continued to try and unbuckle the second one, but it looked like the strap was giving you a hard time.

Logan kneeled down in front of you without a word as you moved your hands away. You were smart enough to know that you weren’t exactly in the best position to unbuckle your heels, you usually did it when you were sitting down, not crouching in the middle of a hallway.

He easily unbuckled it and helped you slip out of the heels, your feet hitting the cool floor. You mumbled a thanks as his hand trailed up your calf with a feather light touch before standing up. Your heels were in one of his hands as he easily picked you up with one arm, carrying you bridal style.

You let out a small shriek of surprise, your arms instinctively going around Logan’s neck as he scooped you up with one arm, heels dangling from his other hand.

"Hey! I can walk!" you protested, more flustered than anything else. You were completely capable of walking, sore feet or not, but now you were cradled in Logan’s arms like a princess in some old fairy tale.

Logan's smirk widened, clearly enjoying your reaction. "Not fast enough, sweetheart," he teased, carrying you effortlessly down the hall. His voice was deep, a hint of amusement in his tone, and it made your cheeks heat up slightly, though you quickly tried to brush it off.

You rolled your eyes, not really sure how to argue back. "I’m pretty sure this is unnecessary," you muttered, though your voice didn’t sound all that convincing even to you.

"Necessary or not, you're gonna let me carry you," he shot back, glancing down at you with a playful gleam in his eye. "Besides, I don’t mind."

You huffed in mock defiance, but you didn’t exactly push him to put you down either. In fact, being carried by Logan felt…nice. Comfortable, even. Not that you’d ever admit that out loud. And it certainly wasn’t the first time he’d done this.

As the two of you continued down the hallway, you couldn’t help but notice the way his grip was firm but gentle, his arms strong and steady. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen how built he was, but somehow, it always seemed to surprise you.

"You know, this could’ve been avoided if I’d just worn normal shoes," you grumbled, trying to distract yourself from the way your heart was beating a little too fast.

Logan chuckled softly, that gravelly sound that always seemed to resonate in your chest. "Doll, I’ve seen you rock combat boots and still look like you’re ready for a photoshoot. But those heels…" He raised an eyebrow at the pink shoes still in his hand. "Yeah, maybe not your best choice."

You frowned slightly, glancing at the heels. "They looked good online…"

He grinned, amused. "You got catfished by shoes?"

"I didn’t get catfished!" you retorted, though you couldn’t help but laugh. "They’re cute! Just not comfortable."

Logan made a noncommittal sound, clearly not convinced by your argument. But he didn’t press it further, instead shifting you slightly in his arms as he approached your office door.

"Want me to break down the door for you, too, princess? Or can you manage the key?" he asked with a teasing glint in his eyes, looking down at you like you were some helpless damsel.

"I’ve got it," you replied quickly, reaching into your bag for your keys. "And stop calling me princess." The nickname felt weird, it made your heart beat faster and you skin flush more than the other nicknames he called you.

But Logan just smirked, clearly unbothered. "Sure thing, sweetheart."

You couldn’t stop the little sigh that escaped you as you unlocked the door and pushed it open. Logan stepped inside, gently setting you down on your feet.

As soon as you were standing, you felt the cool air against your now bare feet, and it was an instant relief from the torture those heels had put you through. You moved to put your heels down by your desk, but Logan still had them in his hand.

"You know I can take those now," you said, holding out your hand expectantly.

Logan eyed the heels for a moment, then handed them over. "You really should burn 'em, doll," he said in that same teasing tone, watching you place them on the floor.

"I’m not burning them," you replied, shaking your head. "They’re not that bad. I just…need to break them in."

Logan crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe now, watching you with that amused smirk still playing on his lips. "Or you could just stick to boots."

"Maybe I like being fashionable sometimes," you shot back, raising an eyebrow at him as you plopped down into your office chair. Your fingers brushed your hair back from your face, and you let out a small, satisfied sigh now that you were sitting down.

"Fashionable, sure," Logan said, his voice a low rumble. "But at what cost?"

You shot him a look but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. It was hard to stay annoyed when Logan was like this—playful, relaxed, his rough edges softened just enough to make you feel like he actually cared.

"Anyway, shouldn’t you be out doing something more...Logan-like?" you asked, leaning back in your chair, arms crossing over your chest.

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"I don't know, brooding? Scowling at someone?"

His lips twitched, clearly suppressing a smirk. "Maybe I’m just waiting for you to ask me to carry you again."

You rolled your eyes, fighting the warmth creeping into your cheeks. "Yeah, well, don’t hold your breath."

He chuckled, that deep, gravelly sound filling the small office. He didn’t say anything after that, just leaned against the door, arms crossed as he watched you settle in. The silence was comfortable, but it made you hyperaware of him—of the way his presence seemed to take up more space than it should.

You busied yourself with pulling out some notes from your bag, pretending you weren’t fully aware of how Logan’s eyes followed your every movement. It was strange, but also kind of…nice? Logan wasn’t like other guys. He wasn’t intimidated by your intelligence or the fact that you could talk circles around most people in the room. In fact, he seemed to like it, even if he teased you about it sometimes.

"Alright, well, thanks for the…uh, assistance," you said, breaking the silence and giving him a small, awkward smile. "I think I’m good now."

Logan didn’t move right away. His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he pushed himself off the doorframe. "Anytime, sweetheart."

And with that, he turned and walked out of your office, leaving you with your thoughts—and the faintest trace of a smirk on your face.

---

Every so often, you would have a baking day to use up some of the fruits efficiently. Some of the students would join you in the large kitchen, doing their best to help you by carefully following your instructions.

Some of them, particularly the older ones, would cut up some of the fruit, like strawberries, apples, and peaches. The others would measure the ingredients and put them in a mixing bowl before combining it all together to make a dough.

This time, you were striving to make a few blueberry pies, a large dish of peach cobbler, apple strudels, and some strawberry puff pastries.

Baking was something you enjoyed, but never really did in college. You usually were busier with labs and theses rather than cooking or baking. You practically lived off take out and dining hall food. But since you’ve been here for the past year, you’ve already held 4 sessions, including this one.

“Careful with those strawberries,” you said to a student named Ben, who was chopping up the fruit with a little too much enthusiasm. “We need them in slices, not chunks.”

“Sorry, Y/N,” he mumbled, quickly adjusting his technique.

You smiled softly and moved to check on the other group, who were working on the dough for the pies. A girl named Emily was measuring out the flour, carefully following the recipe you’d written down.

"How’s it going over here?" you asked, watching as she sifted the flour into a bowl.

“Good, I think,” Emily said, glancing up at you nervously. “Is this enough?”

You nodded. "Looks perfect. Just remember to mix it slowly so the flour doesn’t go everywhere."

Emily gave you a grateful smile before continuing her work. You loved these baking sessions. It was a great way to bond with the students and also let them explore a more creative side outside of their classes. Plus, it gave you a break from the constant intellectual challenges of your usual work.

Logan wandered into the kitchen a little while later, casually leaning against the doorframe as he watched the controlled chaos. Ororo and Jean were already in the kitchen, watching from the sidelines nursing a glass of a bubbly pink drink.

He couldn’t help but think about how pretty you looked, you were wearing a pastel purple sundress with a light green apron with vines and flowers embroidered on it.

The sight made him smirk—something about you baking in a kitchen full of teenagers, in your floral apron, amused him. It was such a stark contrast to your usual intellectual, no-nonsense attitude.

“Whatcha got cookin’, sweetheart?” Logan’s gruff voice broke the bustling sounds of mixing and chopping.

You didn’t glance up, too focused on guiding Emily through making the pie dough. "Just baking some pies and pastries. Using up the leftover fruit. Do you want some?" you asked casually, not thinking too much about the fact that Logan was watching you.

Logan shrugged, stepping further into the kitchen. “Depends. Is it any good?”

You finally looked up, raising an eyebrow at him. “You doubt my baking skills?”

He chuckled lowly, leaning against the counter now, close enough to see what you were working on. “Wouldn’t call it doubt, doll. Just curious.”

You gave him a small smirk, hands moving skillfully as you finished helping Emily measure the remaining ingredients. "You’ll have to wait until they’re done to find out."

One of the students, Ben, interrupted, grinning as he wiped flour off his hands. "Y/N’s baking is the best! She made these strawberry scones last time—they were gone in like ten minutes."

Logan raised an eyebrow, giving you a teasing glance. "Impressive, princess. Maybe I will stick around."

You rolled your eyes at the nickname but didn’t comment. Instead, you turned back to Emily, helping her roll out the dough. It wasn’t that you didn’t notice Logan's teasing, it was just that you didn’t think much of it. Guys didn’t usually flirt with you. At least not seriously. Most found your intelligence intimidating, or they simply saw you as ‘one of the guys.’ Logan’s pet names, in your mind, were just part of his rough-and-tumble personality, nothing more.

But Logan, on the other hand, found your obliviousness endearing. The fact that you didn’t seem to realize he was flirting with you only made him try harder, though he kept it casual enough not to push you away. He liked the challenge.

“You need any help?” Logan offered, gesturing toward the fruit Ben was chopping haphazardly.

“You’re not gonna burn the kitchen down?” you teased, wiping your hands on your apron before reaching for a bowl.

“I think I can handle it,” Logan said, a grin tugging at his lips.

You handed him a knife, showing him how to properly slice the strawberries. “Here, like this. We need them thin for the pastries.”

You held out the knife for him, and instead of coming up beside you like you assumed he would, he stood behind you, his chest against your back, practically caging you in between him and the counter.

He could hear your heart beat faster as he cut a few slices of the strawberry, asking, "That good enough for you, sweetheart?"

His voice was low, and you could feel his breath near your ear, but you were too focused on the task at hand to fully process the closeness. You glanced at the thinly sliced strawberries, nodding absentmindedly.

"Yeah, that’s perfect," you mumbled, moving slightly away to give yourself more room to breathe, though you didn’t realize why. "Just need a few more for the pastries."

Logan continued slicing, his movements precise, though his presence remained solid and grounding behind you. You were used to people standing close when you worked in the lab or in class—tight spaces, shared equipment, it came with the territory. But this was different. Logan’s proximity felt… intense in a way you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

"So, how long you been doin' this?" Logan asked casually, his voice breaking through your thoughts as he finished up with the strawberries.

You blinked, taking a second to register the question. "Baking? Oh, I don’t know… when I was a kid? I just started because it’s a nice break from… everything I guess.”

Jean and Ororo continued to drink their glass of champagne when Scott walked in, placing an arm around Jean’s waist as they watched the scene. “Think she’ll finally realize,” he asked.

Ororo gave a small grin and shrugged, “who knows? But Logan’s certainly getting bolder.”

Jean shook her head, “I told him to talk to her and say exactly what he was feeling, but turns out he still hasn’t taken my advice.”

Ororo chuckled as she took a slow sip of her drink, her gaze flicking back to the kitchen scene unfolding in front of them. "Well, you know Logan. Subtlety isn’t exactly his strong suit."

Scott smirked as he stood next to Jean, his arm still comfortably draped around her waist. "Yeah, but subtlety doesn’t seem to be the problem here," he said, eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched Logan hover around you. "He’s not exactly hiding it."

Ororo tilted her head, amused by how oblivious you remained despite Logan’s efforts. It wasn’t that you were unobservant; you were incredibly sharp—when it came to science, mechanics, and even battle tactics. But personal matters? Especially the ones involving yourself? Not so much.

"Poor girl," Ororo mused, shaking her head. "She’s a genius, but this…" She waved a hand in Logan’s direction. "This seems to be one thing she’s totally clueless about."

Jean smiled sympathetically. "She’s not used to people flirting with her. I mean, guys either get intimidated by her brain, or they just see her as a fellow intellectual, not… you know, a woman."

Ororo raised an eyebrow, her expression thoughtful. "Well, Logan clearly sees her as a woman. He’s made that much obvious. But I wonder how long it’ll take for her to figure it out."

Jean laughed softly. "At this rate? It might take a while."

The three of them watched with growing curiosity as Logan stood there, his broad shoulders and rough demeanor somehow fitting perfectly in the domestic scene of baking pastries with students. You, on the other hand, were entirely focused on getting the strawberry puff pastries just right, completely unaware of how closely Logan was watching you—or how he lingered longer than necessary when he handed you the knife, or how his teasing nicknames held a deeper meaning.

"She’s too smart for her own good," Scott added, shaking his head with a chuckle. "But when it comes to this, she's got blind spots."

Jean nodded in agreement. "Y/N is convinced she knows everything—and to be fair, she does know a lot—but she’s missing the whole picture here."

---

After Logan’s stunt on baking day, he wondered just how much further he could go. Sure, he could take Jean’s advice and outright tell you, but he also liked seeing you riled up and confused by his words and actions.

Like a few days ago, all he did was pull out your chair at dinner with the rest of the group and you just stood there, confused by the gesture. It took a few moments for you to understand and finally sit down before he pushed the chair closer to the table for you.

Or now, they were having a briefing, or meeting, about God knows what, most of everybody seated. You and Ororo were the last people to come in, aside from Charles. Ororo went to sit down at an open seat and as you looked around you came to the conclusion that there weren’t any other chairs available.

You were content with the fact that you were going to stand for the short meeting, as you found a spot to stand at the opposite end of the large round table, close to Logan.

“C’mere doll.” Logan said, lazily gesturing for you to come closer.

You hesitantly did, stopping next to his chair, your knee brushing his thigh. “What?”

He patted his thigh, “I don’t bite.”

Your eyes widened, a cute, innocent expression that he enjoyed seeing on your face, as you looked around the room. “I, uh- ”

Logan’s smirk widened, clearly finding your hesitation endearing. He patted his lap again, his eyes glinting with a teasing light. “C’mon, doll. Don’t be shy. There’s a perfectly good seat right here.”

You hesitated, your brain racing to process the situation. It wasn’t exactly appropriate for a professional setting, but you were running out of options. The only other seats were either taken or a bit too far from the discussion table. With a small sigh, you decided to give in. You didn’t want to stand for the entire meeting, and it was just one of those moments where you had to roll with it.

“Alright,” you said. You shot a glance around the room, but most people were already absorbed in their conversations or taking notes. You gingerly sat down on the edge of his lap, trying to maintain a sense of propriety despite the awkwardness of the situation.

Logan’s arm naturally wrapped around your waist to stabilize you, but he didn’t say anything as you settled. You could feel his warmth radiating through his leather jacket, and it was strangely comforting despite the unusual circumstances. He leaned in slightly, his breath tickling your ear as he whispered, “You alright there, sweetheart?”

You nodded, trying to focus on the meeting but acutely aware of how close he was. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied, though you could feel your cheeks warming slightly. “Just trying to get comfortable.”

Logan chuckled softly, the sound reverberating through his chest and making you shift just a bit closer. His hand rested lightly on your hip, not too firm but enough to make you acutely aware of his presence. You tried to ignore it and concentrate on the meeting, but his proximity made that task rather difficult.

The meeting continued, with Charles and the others discussing various topics related to ongoing projects and missions. Logan’s hand on your hip was a constant reminder of his presence, but he remained quiet, only chiming in occasionally with his usual gruff comments or suggestions.

---

At breakfast one day, you were sitting with Hank talking about the project you two were working on that was finally getting somewhere. You had finally been able to stabilize the energy output and now you two were talking about what to do next.

Logan sipped his coffee, looking at your from afar. As always, you were dressed cute today. You were wearing a light blue sweater with a pair of your skinny jeans and white flats, paired with matching drop earrings.

Ororo and Jean came up beside him, the former tsking. Ororo gave Logan a knowing look, crossing her arms. "You still at it, huh?" she teased, nodding in your direction.

Logan grunted but didn't respond immediately, sipping his coffee as he watched you and Hank animatedly discuss your project. You were explaining something with such enthusiasm, using your hands to gesture wildly, that it made him smirk. The light blue sweater you wore today only added to the adorable vibe you unknowingly radiated.

Jean nudged him lightly. "Nine months, Logan. Nine months of flirting, and she’s still completely oblivious." She shook her head, amused.

"She’s a genius, remember?" Ororo said, raising an eyebrow. "She’s supposed to know everything."

Logan snorted, finally setting his coffee down. "Well, she clearly doesn’t know this. And I’m in no rush to tell her." He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his broad chest. His eyes didn’t leave you, even as the conversation between Hank and you grew more intense.

Jean chuckled. "It's kinda cute, though. Watching her get all flustered whenever you call her those names, like she’s completely missing the point."

"I know," Logan muttered with a grin. "She gets that little furrow in her brow, like she’s trying to figure it out, but then brushes it off. She’s too wrapped up in all her fancy projects and theories."

Ororo shook her head in disbelief. "You’ve got the patience of a saint. Most people would’ve given up by now."

Logan shrugged, glancing at Ororo. "Ain’t in any hurry. She’s worth the wait."

Jean smiled softly at that, then sighed. "Well, good luck. Maybe one day she’ll actually catch on."

As if on cue, you let out a triumphant laugh from across the room, and Logan’s attention immediately shifted back to you. You had a bright smile on your face, clearly excited about whatever breakthrough you and Hank had just made.

"You’re like a moth to a flame," Ororo muttered under her breath with a smirk, walking off with Jean to sit down.

Logan ignored her, his eyes still locked on you as you gathered up some papers and started to walk toward the exit. As you passed him, he casually stuck his leg out just enough that you had to stop short to avoid tripping.

“Logan!” you exclaimed, looking down at his leg and then up at him with confusion.

He raised an eyebrow, taking another sip of his coffee. "Mornin', sweetheart."

You blinked at him, clearly thrown off for a moment. "Uh, morning." You shifted the stack of papers in your arms. "Why’d you—"

"Just wanted to say good job," he interrupted, nodding toward the papers in your hand. "Whatever you and Hank were talkin’ about over there seemed pretty important."

Your face lit up at the mention of your project, and you immediately launched into an explanation, completely forgetting about Logan's odd behavior. "Oh, yeah! We finally stabilized the energy output! It’s been driving us crazy for weeks, but we think we’ve figured out how to—"

Logan barely paid attention to the technical jargon that followed, more focused on the way your eyes sparkled as you talked, your excitement contagious. He gave a few gruff nods, pretending to follow along, but it was the way you lit up when you were passionate about something that kept him hooked.

"You’re incredible, you know that?" he said once you finished, his voice low and serious.

You blinked, taken aback. "Uh, what?"

"I said you’re incredible." He repeated, his gaze locking onto yours. "Smart, talented, and cute as a button. Gotta give credit where it’s due."

Your cheeks flushed pink, and you quickly looked down at the papers in your arms. "Oh, um, thanks, Logan," you mumbled, completely missing the deeper implication of his words, as usual. "I... I should probably get these to the lab. We need to review them before the next phase."

"Of course," Logan said, his smirk widening as he watched you stumble over your words. "But don’t forget to take a break, doll. All work and no play ain’t good for anyone."

"Right," you said, nodding as you hurried off, your mind already shifting back to your project, completely oblivious to the playful grin on Logan's face.

---

“You’ve never even been clubbing!?” Ororo exclaimed, holding up a finger to stop you from saying anything. “And you know I’m not talking about something like a ‘gardening club’.”

“And you have?” You asked, sitting on your bed as Jean looked through your closet.

Ororo laughed, shaking her head at your naivety. “Oh, Y/N, honey, I’ve been out dancing plenty of times. Clubbing is one of those things you just have to experience.”

Jean, still rummaging through your closet, chimed in, "She’s right, Y/N. It's fun to get out of the lab once in a while and let loose. You spend so much time buried in your work. You deserve a break."

You sighed, sinking back onto the bed. "I don’t know… It just seems like a waste of time. We could watch a movie, drink some wine, and call it a night."

Ororo leaned against your dresser, crossing her arms. "You can’t hide behind your projects forever, Flora. You need to socialize, let your hair down." She smirked, looking at you pointedly. "You never know, maybe someone will finally catch your eye."

You furrowed your brow, unconvinced. "Like who?"

Jean shared a knowing look with Ororo before turning to face you, holding up a dress you’d forgotten you owned. “Who knows? There could be someone at the club. Or maybe someone you’ve been completely blind to.”

Ororo raised an eyebrow and added, "Someone who’s been giving you attention for months, perhaps."

Your eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

Jean grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she held up the dress in front of you. "Nothing, just an observation. Now, come on, put this on. Let’s see how it looks."

You sighed, getting off the bed and taking the dress from Jean’s hands. "I still don’t get what the big deal is. I’m perfectly fine without this whole clubbing thing."

Ororo smirked, stepping toward the door. “Trust us. You’ll thank us later.”

---

A few hours later, you found yourself standing outside one of the busiest clubs in the city, feeling slightly out of place in the dress Jean had picked out for you. The music thumped from inside the building, the bass reverberating through the sidewalk as people lined up to get in. You stood between Jean and Ororo, who both looked far more comfortable in their outfits than you felt in yours.

"I can’t believe you guys convinced me to come," you muttered under your breath, shifting on your feet as you glanced at the line of people ahead.

Jean grinned, looping her arm through yours. "You’re going to have fun. Trust me. It’s a nice change of pace."

Ororo nodded in agreement. "Plus, you deserve a night out. You’ve been working hard."

As you were about to respond, the doors of the club swung open, and you were hit with a blast of cool air mixed with the sound of thumping music. The bouncer waved the three of you in without a second glance, and before you knew it, you were inside, the lights flashing and the crowd buzzing with energy.

You followed Jean and Ororo through the throngs of people, weaving through the packed dance floor until you reached the bar. The atmosphere was unlike anything you were used to—loud, chaotic, and a little overwhelming. You weren’t sure how you felt about it yet.

Ororo leaned against the bar, ordering drinks while Jean turned to you with a grin. "What do you think so far?"

You shrugged, glancing around. "It’s... different."

"Just give it a chance," Jean said, patting your arm. "Once you get a drink in you and loosen up a bit, you’ll feel better."

The bartender handed Ororo three drinks, and she passed one to you with a wink. "To new experiences, Flora."

You hesitated for a moment before raising your glass. "To new experiences, I guess."

The three of you clinked glasses, and you took a sip, feeling the warmth of the alcohol start to settle in. Maybe this night wouldn’t be so bad after all.

---

An expensive Uber trip later and you three were back at the mansion at 4 in the morning. Luckily it was Friday, or Saturday now, so there was no need to worry about being hungover for classes.

You don’t think you’ve ever drank that much alcohol, but to be fair, you must have a really low tolerance since you never partied in college, other than the occasional glass of wine.

So, drinking around 5 or 6 fruity cocktails surely made you see things differently. Maybe just a tad bit too blurry and clumsy.

You fumbled with your keys at the mansion door, Jean giggling behind you. “Here, let me help,” she offered, her hands steadier than yours as she took the keys and unlocked the door with ease.

“I’m fine, Jean!” you protested with a laugh, swaying slightly as you stepped inside. You weren’t used to feeling so... unbalanced. Everything seemed lighter, funnier, and a little more ridiculous after the alcohol. You were starting to understand why people did this more often.

Ororo walked in behind you, shaking her head but smiling. “Maybe next time we won’t let you have quite so many drinks,” she teased, gently guiding you toward the living room. “You’re gonna feel this tomorrow.”

“I’m a genius,” you declared, holding your head high in mock dignity, “I’ll be fine.”

Jean snorted, flopping onto the couch. “Oh yeah? Even geniuses can’t outsmart a hangover.”

You waved her off, settling into a chair, only to realize it was far too squishy, causing you to slide right down onto the floor. You stared at it for a second, then burst out laughing. “Who put a trap here?”

Ororo and Jean were in hysterics now, and even though your head was spinning, you couldn’t help but join in.

“You know,” Ororo started between giggles, “for someone who knows everything, you sure don’t know how to handle a drink.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, or at least tried to. “It’s... an anomaly. Unpredictable variables.”

“Right,” Jean said, leaning back with a grin, “just like Logan’s flirting.”

You blinked, the name snapping you out of your drunken haze for a second. “Logan’s what?”

Ororo and Jean exchanged glances before looking back at you, their smiles widening.

“His flirting,” Jean repeated slowly, as if explaining a simple concept.

You squinted, feeling like your brain was moving through molasses. “Flirting? Logan? With me?”

Ororo rolled her eyes playfully. “Yes, Y/N. For months. You seriously haven’t noticed?”

You stared at them both, utterly lost. “Flirting? Logan? Are you guys drunk too?”

Jean sighed dramatically, standing up. “I think you’re too far gone to process this tonight.”

You shook your head, still trying to wrap your mind around what they were saying. Logan? Flirting? With you? It didn’t make any sense. Logan was... well, Logan.

Ororo pulled you up from the floor, patting your arm. “Let’s get you to bed. You can overthink this tomorrow.”

---

The next morning, you woke up with a pounding headache and a stomach that felt like it was doing somersaults. Groaning, you dragged yourself out of bed, making a mental note to never drink that much again.

As you made your way to the kitchen, hoping to find coffee and maybe something greasy to settle your stomach, you tried to remember the details from last night. Jean and Ororo had said something about Logan... flirting with you?

You shook your head. That couldn’t be right. Logan wasn’t the type to flirt. He was gruff, tough, and mostly kept to himself. Sure, he called you pet names, but that didn’t mean anything. Right?

Pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you sat at the kitchen island, still groggy. You were about to take a sip when you heard the familiar sound of boots approaching.

“Mornin’, doll,” Logan greeted as he walked in, his voice a low rumble.

You looked up at him, your brain still foggy, and for some reason, the word ‘flirting’ popped into your mind again. You stared at him for a moment longer than necessary, your head tilting slightly.

“Uh... morning,” you replied, your voice a little more unsure than usual. You couldn’t stop replaying what Jean and Ororo had said last night. Was this flirting? You eyed Logan, trying to decipher his expression.

He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “You look like hell.”

“Gee, thanks,” you muttered, taking a sip of your coffee. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

Logan chuckled, that deep, rough sound that always sent a weird shiver down your spine. “Guess you didn’t take my advice about not overdoing it, huh?”

You blinked. “What advice?”

“Last night,” he said, smirking, “told ya not to have too many drinks, sweetheart.”

Your brow furrowed. “Wait, you were there?”

“Yeah,” Logan said, clearly amused. “Passed by when you three were heading out. You looked excited about... whatever the hell it is you get excited about.”

You frowned, trying to remember him saying that. It was all so hazy. Then you shook your head, deciding to just drop it. “Well, I’ll survive.”

Logan gave you a lazy grin. “Tough as nails, aren’t ya?”

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “I guess so.”

There was a moment of silence before Logan pushed off the counter and moved closer. He reached out and gently tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing your cheek for just a second too long. “Good thing. Wouldn’t want ya to break, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widened, your breath catching in your throat. This was... different. You felt your face heat up, and you quickly turned your attention back to your coffee. “Uh... right.”

Logan’s smirk didn’t fade as he stepped back. “See ya around, darlin’.”

You watched him leave the kitchen, your heart pounding in your chest for reasons you couldn’t quite explain. What was that? Was that what Jean and Ororo had been talking about? Or was it just him being old-fashioned, after all he was over 200 years old, and you were a mere 25. He was the Wolverine, and you were just a young teacher that happened to be an X-Men.

---

It had been a week since you had gone out clubbing with Jean and Ororo and you were too far gone in your own mind. You started observing things more carefully, the way Logan would rest his hand on your lower back when he was walking you to your next class, how he occasionally brought you snacks when you were in the lab, telling Hank that they were only for you, and finally, how he really only called you nicknames.

Ever since that realization, you tried to keep it hidden, to process it on your own. After all, guys didn’t like you. You weren’t exactly the kind of girl they wanted.

Logan noticed how you got more nervous around him, your heart beating faster, how you seemed to stumble over your words more often than not around him. At one point, he asked Jean about it, to which she revealed her and Ororo did what he couldn’t.

He ended up outside of your office, hearing you talk to one of the senior students about which colleges were the best for his major. You assured him that just because it was September, doesn’t mean he’s too late to apply.

Logan knocked on the door as you said that the door was unlocked. He hadn’t seen your outfit today, a white pencil skirt paired with a skintight, long sleeve peach colored shirt. Your hip was leaning against the front of the desk next to where the student was sitting.

Kean looked between the two of you, before quickly gathering his things and the brochures you gave him for various colleges.

"Remember to look into some engineering programs! I’d think they’d be great for you!" You called out after Kean, watching as the student hurried out of your office. The door clicked shut behind him, and you sighed, thinking of the next round of paperwork waiting on your desk. You were about to walk around your desk to sit down when you noticed Logan still standing there, leaning casually against the doorframe, his eyes focused on you in that intense way he often did.

"Sweetheart, got a minute?" Logan's voice was rough, familiar, and held that signature casualness that made it feel like he wasn't really asking.

You blinked, startled for a second before nodding. "Uh, yeah. Sure, Logan. What's up?"

Logan stepped further into the room, his eyes scanning you briefly. "You looked pretty wrapped up in your work. Thought you could use a break."

Your mind raced, suddenly self-conscious. "Yeah, I’ve been helping some of the seniors with their college stuff," you explained, motioning to the brochures still scattered across your desk. "It's that time of year where they start panicking about applications."

Logan smirked, his arms crossing over his chest. "You always keep yourself busy, don’t ya, doll?"

You rolled your lower lip while humming as your answer. You crossed your arms, watching as Logan came closer to you, standing almost toe to toe with your pointy short peach colored heels.

“You finally figured it out then, didn’t ya?” He asked.

“I- well, uh…” you stammered, suddenly feeling heat rush to your face. Why was Logan looking at you like that? And what did he mean by ‘you finally figured it out’? Were Ororo and Jean right?

Logan’s smirk deepened, amusement dancing in his eyes as he watched you fumble over your words. "You’re a genius, sweetheart. I’m sure you’ve noticed by now."

Your heart raced, and you felt your palms start to sweat. Why was he so close? You tried to focus on the conversation, on anything other than how your body was reacting to his presence. "N-noticed what?" you managed to get out, your voice sounding way less composed than you intended.

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this far more than you were. "How I’ve been flirtin’ with ya for months now," he said casually, as if he were commenting on the weather.

Your brain short-circuited. Flirting? Logan? Flirting? With you? That didn’t make any sense. Logan flirted with women who were… well, not you. He was the rough-around-the-edges kind of guy who went for women who were confident, flirtatious, and knew how to handle someone like him. You were the awkward  genius who spent more time in the lab than anywhere else. Guys didn’t flirt with you.

"You’ve been—wait, what?" you asked, blinking rapidly, trying to make sense of what he was saying. "You’ve been flirting with me?"

Logan chuckled, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. "Yeah, doll. Pretty sure everyone at the mansion’s noticed by now." His smirk returned as he added, "Except you, apparently."

Your face burned, and you tried to think back. Had he been flirting? The nicknames, the snacks, the casual touches… it all seemed so… normal for Logan. You thought he was just being friendly, maybe a bit protective like he was with some of the younger students.

"I—" You started to say something but stopped, unsure of what exactly to say. You felt like the ground had shifted beneath you. "Why didn’t anyone tell me?"

Logan shrugged. "Didn’t think it was their place. Figured you’d catch on eventually." His gaze softened, and he added, "Didn’t expect you to be this oblivious, though. Kinda cute."

You were sure your face couldn’t get any redder. "I’m not… I’m not oblivious," you mumbled, crossing your arms defensively. "I just didn’t think you’d be interested in someone like me."

Logan’s eyebrows shot up. "And why the hell not?"

"Because I’m… me!" You motioned to yourself, like that explained everything. "Guys don’t flirt with me, Logan. They’re usually intimidated or just… I don’t know. I’m not the kind of girl guys like."

You didn’t have any friends until you came here, which was sad because you were 24 when you finally had some.

Sure, you tried to make some during college, joined the gardening club and the astronomy club, but whenever you talked people would never really listen to you.

You even tried going on a few dates with some guys from online dating apps. They were your age, but they were in their third year of college while you were already working on two master’s degrees. You even had similarities with a few of them.

One guy liked Star Wars, and you went into a short rant about how the physics of it was wrong and even talked about a bunch of the lore behind it. Same with the other 2 dates you went on, they were all one and done.

Guys didn’t like you. That’s just the way it was.

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, doll. You think guys don’t notice you?”

You crossed your arms, feeling defensive again. “I don’t think, I know. Trust me, I’ve tried.” You paused, hesitating before you added, “I’m not exactly… good at this kind of thing. Social stuff, I mean. I’m better at figuring out equations than people.”

Logan stepped closer, so close that you could feel the warmth radiating off him. “You’re wrong, sweetheart,” he said softly, his voice surprisingly gentle. “You’ve got this idea in your head that no one’s gonna want you because you’re too smart or too different, but that ain’t true. Not even close.”

You blinked up at him, unsure of how to respond. The intensity of his gaze made your stomach flutter in a way that felt both exciting and terrifying. “I just… I don’t see why you’d be interested in me,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re Logan. You could have anyone.”

Logan chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, but I don’t want just anyone.” His eyes locked onto yours, his tone becoming serious. “I want you.”

Your heart nearly stopped in your chest. You had no idea what to say. Logan had been flirting with you—Logan, the gruff, no-nonsense guy you’d come to admire over the past year—and you’d been completely clueless. How could someone like him, someone who seemed so out of your league, be interested in you?

“I… I don’t understand,” you mumbled, still struggling to process everything. “Why me?”

Logan sighed, as if he had been waiting for this question for months. “Because you’re brilliant, Y/N. You’ve got this fire in you, this passion for everything you do. You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, and you don’t let anyone push you around. And you’re so damn kind, even when you don’t have to be.” He ran a hand through his hair, as if trying to gather his thoughts. “You’ve got no idea how many times I’ve wanted to tell you, but… well, you’re not exactly the easiest person to talk to about feelings.”

You blinked. “I’m not?”

Logan smirked. “No, sweetheart, you’re not. You overthink everything. Makes it kinda hard to tell you I like you without you analyzing it to death.”

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of embarrassment and disbelief. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, not really knowing what else to say. “I just didn’t think you… I didn’t think anyone would… you know.”

Logan stepped even closer, so close that you had to sit on the edge of your desk. “Well, I do,” he said, his voice low. “And I’ve been waitin’ for you to figure it out.”

You stared up at him, your mind still reeling. All this time, Logan had been flirting with you, had liked you, and you hadn’t noticed. And now, here he was, standing so close you could feel his breath on your skin, telling you exactly how he felt. It was overwhelming, to say the least.

"Logan, I…" you started, but the words got caught in your throat. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond to something like this. Part of you wanted to brush it off as some kind of misunderstanding, but the way he was looking at you, the way he had always looked at you, made it clear that this wasn’t a joke or a misunderstanding.

He really liked you.

Logan smirked at your silence, clearly amused by how flustered you were. "Speechless, huh? That’s a first," he teased, his voice low and rough in that way that made your stomach flip.

You shook your head, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "It’s just… I didn’t think you’d be interested in someone like me. You’re Logan, and I’m…" You gestured to yourself awkwardly. "Me."

Logan frowned slightly, his brows pulling together. "What the hell’s that supposed to mean?"

You shrugged in response, turning your head downward to look down at your lap. It didn’t last long, because Logan put his thumb on your chin, turning your head upright to look at him.

He noticed your expression change, you were someone who was easy to read, never really kept her emotions hidden well, or at least not to him. You went from big doe eyes and sad, pouty lips to flustered. Your eyes were curious and almost nervous and your pink lips, courtesy of the colored lip balm you always wore, were slightly parted.

Logan held your gaze, his thumb gently resting on your chin, and you couldn’t help but feel your pulse quicken under his touch. He was so close now, close enough that the musky scent of him was filling your senses, making it even harder to think clearly.

"You really think I’d waste my time on someone I didn’t want?" Logan’s voice was low, gruff, but there was a softness to it that you hadn’t heard before.

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. The words were jumbled in your mind, and all you could focus on was the way his rough fingers were still holding your chin, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. The confidence he exuded was overwhelming. How could he be so sure, so calm, while you felt like your brain was on fire?

"Logan, I…" you trailed off, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of his hand, the warmth of his body so close—it was too much.

He let out a soft chuckle, clearly amused by how flustered you were. "Doll, you’re overthinking again."

Your lips pressed together into a thin line as you tried to get a handle on your spiraling thoughts. "I’m just… surprised. I didn’t think…" You hesitated, the words feeling clumsy in your mouth. His thumb moved slightly up, still holding onto your chin but now brushing against your lower lip, making it more difficult to concentrate or come up with a single coherent thought.

No one had ever treated you like this, so kindly and… normally. You thought back to the only 3 dates you had ever been on during college, how none of them ever really tried to get to know you, or peel back the layers behind your smarts.

Because you weren’t just smart, you loved gardening, and baking, hell, you even liked to dress cute. And out of all the guys, Logan never treated you like someone different. It was nice to be around someone like that, who embraced who you were rather than try and get you to bury it. Maybe it was his age? You remember reading an article from a psych organization about how younger women like older men because of emotional maturity-

Rough hands cupped your face, bringing you out of your thoughts. “Hey, stop thinkin’. What the hell could you be thinkin’ about right now?”

You gave a shy smile and shook your head gently, his hands still on your face. “Nothin’,” you mumbled, your voice softer than you intended. You tried to play it off like everything was fine, but Logan wasn’t buying it.

Logan’s brow furrowed slightly, his thumb brushing your cheek now. "You’re a terrible liar, sweetheart." His voice was low, that gravelly tone sending shivers down your spine.

You swallowed, your mind still racing as you searched for the right words. "I just… I don’t get why you’d want me," you admitted, your eyes flicking away from his. "You’re this… badass, Logan. You’ve been through so much. You could have anyone."

His hands stayed where they were, his touch gentle but firm as he guided your gaze back to his. "I told you, doll. I don’t want anyone else. I want you."

You blinked up at him, still unsure of how to respond. It felt like your heart was beating out of your chest, and your mind was a mess of conflicting thoughts. On one hand, Logan was the last person you ever thought would have feelings for you. On the other hand, here he was, being painfully honest, and you couldn’t deny the sincerity in his voice.

"I just…" you hesitated, biting your lip, "I don’t know how to do this, Logan. I’m not… I’ve never been good at… people. Relationships. I mean, I’m good at math, science, and solving problems but not—this."

Logan chuckled softly, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw. "You don’t gotta be good at it, Y/N. You just gotta be you." His voice softened, the teasing tone dropping away as he said, "That’s all I’ve ever wanted."

Your breath caught in your throat. He made it sound so simple, like it wasn’t a big deal. But it was a big deal to you. You hadn’t dated much—hardly at all, if you were being honest. Relationships felt like another complex equation you couldn’t quite solve.

"Logan, I…" you started, but he cut you off, his hands dropping from your face to settle on your hips, pulling you just a little closer.

"You overthinkin’ again?" Logan smirked, one eyebrow raised.

You couldn’t help but smile at that. "Maybe a little," you admitted, your voice quiet. It was hard to concentrate when he was so close, his hands resting on your hips like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"That’s what I thought," Logan muttered, leaning in just enough that his forehead almost touched yours. "You don’t gotta figure everything out right now, doll. Just… let it happen."

You stared at him, your mind whirling. "Let it happen?" you echoed, trying to wrap your head around what he was saying.

"Yeah," Logan said softly, his voice rough but soothing at the same time. "Stop tryin’ to solve it like it’s some kinda problem. Just be with me."

You blinked, your heart doing that weird fluttering thing again. Be with him? It sounded so simple when he said it like that. But you couldn’t help the flood of doubt that kept creeping into your mind. What if you screwed it up? What if you weren’t good enough at this? What if—

Logan’s hands tightened slightly on your hips, and he pulled you closer, cutting off your spiraling thoughts. "Y/N, you’re doin’ it again," he murmured, his voice a soft rumble in the space between you. "You’re thinkin’ too much."

You sighed, biting your lip again. "I can’t help it," you muttered, feeling a little embarrassed. "That’s just how my brain works."

Logan chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "I know, darlin’. But you don’t gotta do that with me."

His words hung in the air, and you found yourself staring at him, completely unsure of what to say next. No one had ever spoken to you like this before. No one had ever made you feel like it was okay to just… be. You were always the smartest person in the room, always expected to have the answers, to be the one in control. But with Logan, it felt different. He didn’t expect you to be anything but yourself.

"I…" You trailed off, your throat tightening. "I don’t know how to not overthink things."

Logan’s smirk softened, and he tilted his head slightly, his eyes warm as they met yours. "Then I’ll just have to distract you, won’t I?"

Before you could even process what he was saying, he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in the softest, most unexpected kiss. It was like everything around you froze for a moment, your brain short-circuiting as you tried to catch up with what was happening.

Logan was kissing you.

Logan.

Was kissing.

You.

Your hands moved instinctively to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt as you kissed him back. It wasn’t what you expected—nothing in your life had ever felt like this. The warmth, the softness of his lips against yours, the way he held you like you were something precious… it was overwhelming in the best possible way.

If you would’ve told your past self from five years ago, hell, even two months ago, that your first kiss would be with the Wolverine, you would’ve thought it was some grand, cosmic joke. But there you were, hands fisting into Logan’s shirt, his lips gently pressing against yours like this was the most natural thing in the world.

It wasn’t how you’d imagined your first kiss would go. Not that you’d spent a lot of time imagining it—honestly, you’d been too busy with equations, papers, and research to even consider the prospect of someone being interested in you. But if you had pictured it, this wouldn’t have been it. Not with a man like Logan.

His rough hands held you in place, strong but careful, as if he was hyper-aware of how delicate you felt in his grasp. You, who could bend nature to your will, whose intelligence far surpassed anyone’s expectations, felt completely and utterly vulnerable in his arms.

When he pulled back, it wasn’t by much. His forehead rested against yours, his breath warm and slightly uneven. Logan’s lips curved into a smirk, one you could practically feel against your skin.

“Well,” he drawled, voice low and teasing, “that didn’t seem too bad, did it?”

You blinked up at him, still trying to recover from the shock. “I… I don’t—what just happened?”

Logan chuckled softly, his thumbs brushing small circles into your hips, keeping you grounded when your thoughts were spinning out of control. “I just kissed ya, sweetheart. And unless I’m readin’ the situation wrong, you didn’t mind too much.”

Your mind raced, heart hammering in your chest. “No, I—” You paused, biting your lip as you tried to form a coherent thought. “I didn’t mind. It’s just—”

“Just what?” Logan’s voice softened, his expression growing more serious as he studied your face.

“I wasn’t expecting it.” You swallowed, looking away from him for a moment before forcing yourself to meet his eyes again. “I didn’t think someone like you… I mean, I didn’t think you would- I didn’t think anyone would- ”

Logan raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to finish, but when you didn’t, he took a step closer. His hand was still resting on your hip, keeping you anchored to him, and the heat of his body was impossible to ignore. “Didn’t think what, sweetheart?”

You swallowed, feeling the weight of his question press down on you. It was like all the words in your head had turned to static, and you couldn’t figure out how to string a coherent sentence together. "I just… I don’t know," you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s lips quirked into a small, teasing smile, but his eyes stayed serious. "You don’t know, or you don’t wanna say?"

You bit your lip, your mind still reeling from the kiss. The memory of it—soft, unexpected, but not unwelcome—was playing on a loop in your head. You hadn’t been kissed much, if at all, and the idea that Logan was the one to give you your first real kiss was still something you were trying to process.

But you couldn’t lie, it was nice. You were 25, just had your first kiss, and suddenly you felt like a teenager in a Disney movie.

A grin slipped past your lips. "I just wasn’t expecting you to kiss me, old man," you finally replied, your voice teasing but soft.

Logan’s eyebrows raised, and a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Old man, huh?" he murmured, his voice dipping into that gravelly tone that always made you feel a bit flustered. "Pretty sure that kiss just proved I’ve still got it."

You laughed softly, your hands still fisted in his shirt, though he didn’t seem to mind at all. Logan’s smirk widened at the sound of your laughter, and you could feel the tension in the air start to ease, just a little.

"Yeah, maybe you do," you replied, your voice soft but teasing as you looked up at him, your heart still beating a little too fast from the kiss. "Guess you're not as rusty as I thought."

Logan raised an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering. "Rusty?" he repeated, his voice low and playful, with that gravelly edge that made your stomach flip every time. "You seriously thought I was rusty, sweetheart?"

You shrugged, trying to maintain some semblance of composure despite how close he was and how easily he seemed to get under your skin. "I don’t know. I mean, you’re a couple of hundred years old. Thought you might’ve lost your touch."

Logan chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling in his chest as he leaned in just a little closer. "Oh, darlin'," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "I ain't lost a damn thing."

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a second, you couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Logan’s confidence was overwhelming, but it wasn’t just that—there was a tenderness in the way he looked at you, a softness in his touch that made your chest feel tight.

"Okay, okay," you finally muttered, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to deflect some of the attention. "Point taken."

Logan grinned, clearly enjoying how flustered you were. "Good," he said simply, his thumbs brushing lightly over your hips where his hands still rested. "’Cause I don’t wanna hear any more about me bein’ rusty or old. Got it?"

You nodded, biting your lip as you tried not to smile too much. "Got it."

chapter 3 of Sweet Dreams will be up tomorrow!

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Don’t Call Me Kid - Aaron Hotchner

“don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby, look at this godforsaken mess that you made me.”

——

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: Reader confesses their feelings for Hotch, they have an angsty yet adult conversation about it.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I was originally not going to give this a happy ending but I got too sad writing it and changed my mind, also yes i’ve been writing a lot don’t criticize me lol

TW: alcohol mention, angst, age gap, slight physical touch (all respectful, nothing sexual), slight implied daddy issues, fem reader

Rating: G

——

Aaron Hotchner was not a man one could approach without a level head. He was rational, always thinking of the most reasonable course of action, weighing every outcome before making any decision. He had to be, as hasty decision-making had cost him more than he cared to discuss.

You knew that, you’d worked under him for two years now and although he didn’t discuss his private life all that frequently at work, these weekly team meetups at the local bar taught you more than enough about him as a person. The usual stoic head of the team was kind, funny, encouraging, albeit a bit quiet until he knew you a bit better.

About a year into your time with the team you let slip that you’d never explored the city, and Rossi wasted no time letting Aaron know about it. A week later he was driving you around, explaining the history behind the popular monuments you had requested a visit to, then spending an hour at the Folger Shakespeare Library to admire the historic architecture and impressive selection of literature, and ending the day at the Moongate Garden, watching the sunset on a bench surrounded by cherry blossoms.

From that day you knew if there was anything you needed, all you had to do was ask. He’d shown you your favorite restaurant, the coffee shop you sat in every free morning you had, reading books he’d suggested you read. You didn’t want to admit it, but you had fallen hard for him, and over the last year those feelings became harder and harder to push down.

It was 2 a.m. and the bartender had announced last call, earning a disappointed groan from Penelope.

“We were just getting started!” She whined, her speech slightly slurred.

“You’ve had more than enough for tonight Babygirl, let’s get you home.” Derek caught her waist, steadying her as she rose from the booth the team had been sitting in.

“I better get going too, Will has to work early so I have to take Henry to school in the morning.” JJ added, playfully rolling her eyes.

The rest of the group finished up their drinks, wrapping up the current conversation before shuffling out of the bar. You said your goodbyes, giving parting hugs before pulling out your phone, ready to order yourself a rideshare home. Your cell service was almost non-existent and the app was taking forever to load, the chill in the air causing goosebumps to form on your bare legs. You raised your phone in the air, trying to gain a better signal as you walked back and forth in front of the bar, growing increasingly frustrated.

Aaron exited the bar as you made another pass by the entrance, tripping as your ankle wobbled in your heels. He was quick to catch you, helping you find your footing once more.

“Do you have a ride home?” He asked, offering you his suit jacket for warmth.

“I’m trying to order a taxi but the app won’t load.” Your frustration was evident, each tap of your finger against the glass of your smartphone just a little too firm.

“You don’t live far, correct? I can walk you home.” He offered, his hand still lingering on the small of your back to steady you. You weren’t drunk, not by a long shot, but you didn’t handle your liquor the best and although you were mostly there mentally, your center of gravity had been better.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to go out of your way for me.” You countered, always raised to decline at least once when offered anything to remain polite.

“I want to make sure you get home safe, it’s really no trouble.” You knew he was earnest, always such a father figure to every member of the team. You put your phone in your bag, throwing it over your shoulder before turning to walk down the street that led to your apartment building.

You walked in silence for a while, his hand hovering behind you just in case your clumsiness kicked in along your walk. His suit jacket was surprisingly warm, the stiff fabric shielding your bare arms from the cold. You weren’t sure why you’d chosen to wear a short sleeved blouse when it was nearing the end of fall, but you suspected it subconsciously had something to do with how well the v-neck showed off your cleavage. You felt a bit pathetic sometimes, finding any way you could to attempt to pull his attention. It never worked, Aaron respected you too much to stare at your figure no matter how provocatively you dressed.

After a few blocks your heel caught on a storm grate, making you stumble forward. His reflexes were impressive as ever, his arm reaching out to catch your waist.

“I swear I’m not usually this clumsy.” You joked, straightening your skirt as you started again on your journey home. He didn’t say anything, but the slight smile his lips formed told you he found your try at humor in an awkward moment amusing.

“It’s just around this corner, I’ll be fine from here.” You tried to wave him off, dying to disappear into your apartment to prevent further embarrassing yourself.

“I’m walking you up to your apartment, I need to see you home safe.” He stated, turning the corner with you. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, his domineering yet caring tone making your heart race. This was all becoming too much, the protectiveness, the slight touches, you could feel something burning in your chest, the urge to spill your guts growing stronger by the minute.

He waited for you to punch in the code to the front door of your apartment building before holding it open for you, following you to the elevator up to your floor. You took the quiet ride up, him continuing to follow you down the hallway to your apartment when the doors opened. You opened your bag, fiddling around for your keys for a moment before finding them, your hand shaking as you tried to unlock the door. You finally got it, pushing open the front door and stepping into your messy living room.

“How are you getting home?” You asked, setting your bag on the small table next to the door.

“I’ll order a taxi, I’m just glad you’re home safe.” He began to pull out his phone, and the liquid courage coursing through your veins told you to invite him in.

“Do you want to come in while you wait?” You offered, handing his suit coat back to him. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him and making sure to lock it, never too cautious.

He laid his suit coat over the back of your coach, taking a seat before taking out his phone again to order his ride.

“It won’t be ready for another 30 minutes, I hope I’m not overstaying my welcome.” He was far too courteous, and all you wanted to do was tell him how badly you wanted him to stay forever.

“You could never.” You told him, kicking off your heels before sitting next to him on the couch. You took a deep breath, trying to settle yourself as you picked up the book that was resting on your coffee table. You watched over the top of the pages to see him glancing around the room, scanning the contents until he stopped on the media console across the room. He stood from his place next to you and walked over to it, taking a knee to get down to the same level as your record collection.

“You have impressive taste.” He stated matter-of-factly, his long fingers brushing across the spines of each album. You gave a quiet ‘thank you’ as he began to pull a record out, and you placed your book down again to see what had caught his eye.

“I didn’t know you listened to The Beatles.” He held up the jacket of the band’s white album, looking to you in slight disbelief.

“Of course, The White Album is one of the greatest of all time.” You were excited to talk music with him, it was a topic you’d never discussed before and you were always eager to learn more about him. That may have been to your own detriment, because the more you learned about him, the harder you seemed to fall.

You knew a relationship between the two of you could never happen, he was your superior, not to mention twenty years your senior, but something felt like it was pulling you to him no matter how many guys you tried to distract yourself with.

“You never fail to surprise me.” He smiled, the outer corners of his eyes crinkling just so. You could’ve died right there, content to collapse into a puddle of yearning. You didn’t know what came over you, but you found yourself clearing your throat as a rush of adrenaline coursed through you.

“Aaron, I have to tell you something.” Your voice shook, but you remained strong in your conviction.

His faint smile turned to a look of concern, quickly rising from his knee to join you on the couch again.

“What is it?” He questioned, brow furrowed as he angled his body toward you.

“I-It’s, nevermind.” That burst of adrenaline quickly faded, his eyes on you feeling like a cigarette burn.

“Y/N, whatever it is, you can trust me. I understand if you’re not comfortable telling me, but don’t let fear hold you back on my account.” He reassured you, resting his hand on your knee sympathetically. You had to do it, there was no way you could face him every day if you brushed him off without an explanation.

“I’m in love with you.” You blurted out, hanging your head, too afraid of what his reaction would be to dare look him in the eye. The silence that sat between you two felt like it carried on forever, tension thick enough to cut with a knife. After what felt like an eternity he cleared his throat, still holding his hand on your knee.

“Why do you feel that way?” He asked, trying to understand where this was coming from. He couldn’t deny that he had felt chemistry between you, but it wasn’t something he could ever entertain acting on.

“Over the last year I’ve gotten to know you in ways I never dreamed I would, I’ve never felt this way for anyone before, even those I once thought I loved in the past. You’ve been so kind, Aaron, you’re an incredible friend, father, leader, how could I be anything but amazed by you?” You felt as though you were rambling, but he seemed so invested in your answer that you didn’t care if what you said was rational.

“I understand.” He confirmed, turning silent as the gears turned in his mind. You could tell he was fighting something internally, the look of concentration on his face seeming almost painful.

You pulled your knee out from under his hand, your nerves convinced that he was looking for a way to fire you without creating an HR nightmare. As quickly as you pulled away he had moved closer to you, his hand finding its place on your knee once more.

“Look at me.” He said, thumb rubbing soothing circles against your skin. You did as you were told, tears threatening your waterline as you did your best to hold his gaze.

“I’m not going to lie to you, you are a very charming young woman and I’d be honored to pursue something more intimate with you, but we can’t. I’m your superior, and you’re young enough to be my daughter.” He explained, the pain in his expression serving to break your heart in two.

“I don’t care.” You were not thinking rationally in that moment, your heart speaking for you instead of your head.

“You should, this is your future.” His tone held frustration this time, finding your childish response disappointing.

“I am not a child Aaron, I can make my own decisions.” You told him, a tear slipping down your cheek as you grew increasingly frustrated with his stonewalling.

“I know that, but you’re young, you have so much to experience and you shouldn’t put that on hold for me, or anyone else for that matter.” Even through his anger he was just trying to steer you in the responsible direction, thinking more about your future than whatever desires he held.

“I have all I’ve ever wanted, my dream has always been to work for the FBI. I don’t have any delusions of grandeur, I never have. I want a job where I’m doing good and a family to come home to when all is said and done.” You explained, and it wasn’t a lie. It’s not that you weren’t driven, you clearly had to be to even make it to the bureau, but that was as far as you wanted your drive to take you.

“For this to work, I can not be your boss, and I won’t ask you to step down.” He continued evaluating each possible risk in your dynamic, and for once you were one step ahead of him.

“You don’t have to, I put in for a transfer to the financial crime unit last week.” You finally let the other secret you’d been keeping slip, and you watched his face drop in disappointment.

“The team is going to miss you more than you know.” He told you, wishing he had known so he could have convinced you otherwise.

“I know, but I couldn’t bare the thought of being around you every day while I feel like this, and I was fascinated by the way their team handled the case we partnered with them on last month. The timing felt right.” You explained, needing him to know that it was not his fault, but a conscious decision you made.

“I just want to try.” You pleaded one last time, hoping he’d let his walls down just this once.

“If this is really what you want, I’ll take you out next weekend. If we’re going to do this, I’m going to do it the right way, you deserve that much.” He gave in, letting himself do something personally risky for the first time in years.

“I would love that.” You agreed, all of the anger and frustration that had been building up over the last year finally starting to dissipate ever so slightly.

How it would pay off, only time would tell, but for now, you were content to just get to know him more and show him who you are the best you can.

——

Part 2 can be found here

Tag List: @pleasantwitchgarden @lover-of-books-and-tea

DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my general or Aaron Hotchner taglist :)

[cosmicpearlz]

my love is mine, all mine (pt 2)

summary: more glimpses of your relationship with jude!

pairing: jude bellingham x reader

a/n: i’m having too much fun writing these scenarios lol

~one~

you rarely ever get into arguments with jude but when it does happen, it’s terrible on everyone’s part. this particular moment was about him not spending enough time with you.

“so you’re saying i can’t hangout with my friends? because that’s what it’s sounding like.”

“jude, that’s not what i’m saying! i’m just saying that it would be nice to have a day with just us. i feel like i’m left on a back burner right now.”

“we do hangout. i mean, i’m here right now but you wanna spend the time arguing!”

“tell me the last time we had a day to ourselves! please enlighten me,” you were beyond frustrated and your head was hurting from all the yelling.

“stop being so fucking clingy. i see you at home every night! we don’t need to be together 24/7.”

you felt your heart throbbing from the pain of hearing those words. is it really such a crime to want quality time with someone you love? between his training sessions and your job, there hasn’t been much alone time.

“okay. my apologies for wanting my boyfriend here with me. i won’t ask again,” you took a step back, looking down to possibly stop the tears. it didn’t work. the more you thought about it, the more it hurt.

jude instantly regretted saying that. he understood completely where you were coming from but the stubbornness in him clouded his judgement.

“baby, i’m-“

“i don’t wanna talk to you jude.”

-

it’s been hours since he last saw you. jude already made the guest room into his bed for the night and found himself restless. he wouldn’t admit it to anyone else but he couldn’t sleep without you near. even if you guys weren’t cuddling, at least his hand could be on you in some way. so he tossed and turned until he had enough.

jude makes his way to the room door, raising his hand to knock when the door swings open. it startles the both of you. leaving you to stare at each other in silence. jude noticed the dry tear streaks that laid on the apple of your cheeks. it made him feel worse.

“you really hurt-“

“i’m sorry bab-“

speaking at the same time wasn’t uncommon for you two, causing the both of you to let out a breathy laugh.

“you can go first honey,” his light whisper fell into the air as if he were too scared to talk any louder.

“jude, you really hurt my feelings earlier. i just wanted to spend time with you and you made it seem like i was asking for a million dollars or something bigger. i didn’t feel heard during our conversation but unfortunately i can’t sleep without you. so i was coming to drag you to bed even though i’m still very mad at you.”

“baby i’m sorry. i’m so sorry for hurting your feelings. i want you to know that i don’t mean it. hell, everyone knows i’m the clingy one! you’re the love of my life and i would spend days mending whatever hurt i caused,” his hands came to rest on your cheeks, fingers softly swiping at the dry tear stains.

“can we go to bed now? i’m exhausted and we can finish talking in the morning,” jude nods in response to you and kisses your nose.

“yeah, let’s go to bed m’love.”

~two~

“hey babe!”

jude looks up from his ipad upon hearing your voice through the phone. he was in germany for match and of course, he asked you to go with him. saying something along the lines of being his good luck charm. you couldn’t originally get the off time from your job.

“i miss you so much.”

“jude, baby you’ve been gone for like two days.”

“and your point is?”

“okay, whatever you say. anyways, i got a package for ya! just open the door.”

the boy failed to realize how close your face was in the camera and how you whispered. you had surprised him by coming to germany, being that your boss changed her mind and let you go. it wasn’t like you asked for off time a lot anyways.

“what?”

“can you open the door baby?”

jude jumps off the bed and practically leaps to the door. swinging it open to find you with a toothy smile. he rushes to hug you, bending down to your hight and pulling you into his arms.

“you said you couldn’t come!”

“surprise! my boss decided to let me take the time off last minute. i found the first flight here.”

“how’d you get to the hotel? i would’ve picked you up.”

“it wouldn’t have been a surprise then.”

he detaches himself from you to grab your bag, then grabbing your hand, walking you inside. you take a seat on the couch that was sitting in the room and smiled as your boyfriend put your bag next to his.

“i can’t believe you’re here.”

“well believe it,” jude sat next to you and began pressing kisses into whatever inch of skin he could get to.

“babe relax,” you say, in between giggles as he continued his work down to your neck. only getting off you when you pushed his shoulder back.

“i just missed you.”

“it’s been two days!”

“so what.”

~three~

you’ve become familiar with jude being your passenger princess. you never minded, it was just nice having someone to drive with. so, you took him on another one of your side quests. thrifting.

“i hope i find something good this time. last time we went, it was a bunch of bullshit.”

“i’m kinda hoping i see something i like,” you gasp into response to him, quickly looking at him and then looking back at the road.

“woah, thee jude bellingham is interested in thrifting?”

“oh come off it.”

“i’m just saying! i literally never heard you say anything like that. just making sure my ears heard correctly,” you give him a teasing smile.

“i will jump into oncoming traffic.”

“no you won’t.”

“i swear i will.”

“i’m calling your bluff.”

the silence in the car became loud as you both tested one another.

“no i won’t.”

“ha! i knew it.”

“whatever, drive faster loser. all the good stuff are gonna be gone.”

~four~

you wake up finding the bed empty. jude’s side is made up, totally not uncommon. you figured he was at training and got out of bed to get something to eat. as you walked to the kitchen, you find your boyfriend with his bare back towards you.

“good morning darling,” he turns his head to face you with a small smile.

“good morning. what’s all this?”

“i wanted to cook for you! training was canceled today because of a family emergency. i was gonna surprise you in bed but of course you had to wake up early.”

“that’s very sweet of you,” you make your way towards him and wrap your arms around his waist. pressing your front into his back, hugging him as tight as you could. you leaned up to kiss the back of his shoulder blade before stepping away.

“let’s spend the day inside.”

“are you sure jude? i know today is my off day but you don’t have to stay in with me.”

“i want to.”

jude plates the food and sits it on the dining room table. you follow close behind and go to grab your chair. instead, jude pulls out your chair for you. pushing you in before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. sitting down next to you, you both began to eat. a comfortable silence fills the room as you both ate. his free hand resting on your thigh, caressing the skin beneath his fingers.

“i love you so much. thank you for this.”

“you shouldn’t have to thank me. i’m your boyfriend, it’s a job of mine to make sure you’re feeling loved at all times.”

“trust me, i feel all the love right now.”

“it still wouldn’t be enough to express how much i truly am in love with you darling.”

“don’t get sappy on me bellingham,” you teased, watching his face attempt to hide a smile.

“oh we wouldn’t want that,” he plays along and kisses your cheek, making you both laugh in the process.

[pupyuj]

[cw: g!p liz, pregnancy, breeding kink, lactation kink]

i wasn’t meant to write anything for this bcs i was literally just sitting eating breakfast this morning when the thought of baby daddy jiwon graced my brain and i laughed at it for a second but then it got serious so now ya’ll have to indulge me bcs??? 🤤🤤 also not me saying that that one baby daddy yuj was the only time i’ll write abt pregnancy and yet here we are…

kinda long bcs i rlly loved the fluffy stuff so hehe have fun 💖

we’re all thinking about the same thing, right? your chaotic mess of a girlfriend jiwon feeling as if her whole world was turned upside down when you sit her down and give her the news in the morning where the two of you were supposed to go on a cute picnic date 😭 you can’t tell me she wouldn’t sit there for at least half an hour taking everything in, merely just staring at the wall with her mouth hanging open for so long you thought it would get stuck that way 😭😭 and ykw you were worried for a bit!! the two of you certainly didn’t plan on this happening and this was the clear result of both of you forgetting to use protection that one night where you were just eager to feel the other’s skin,, you half expected jiwon to be angry and lash out at you but no! ofc weird ass jiwon takes a deep breath before pulling you up to your feet and hugging you 🥺

she figured that the news was even harder on you since you were the one carrying the kid,, and being the amazing girlfriend she was, she prioritized your feelings over her own,, comforting you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear when you broke down in her arms not bcs you were upset abt being pregnant or anything but bcs you were just relieved that jiwon wasn’t going to abandon you 🥺🥺 and you’d still go on that picnic date with her! it would be awkward at first but best believe she’s promising to be there for you and with you every step of the way whether or not you decide to keep the baby 🥹💞

i believe in the ‘jiwon would be a wonderful soon-to-be-daddy’ agenda! due to her genuine fear of fucking shit up, she’d probably read countless parenting books 😭😭 sure she knew how to take care of a little kid or two but not a baby! let alone one that she made! she’s reading books, getting ahead of the game and researching and possibly buying all the stuff your kid needs, asking her parents for advice… jiwonie just wants to be the perfect partner and parent 🥺💕 you’d find her in the kitchen one day practicing how to make milk—as in making sure it’s the correct temperature and that it tastes good.. don’t ask her how many times she has actually finished a whole tiny bottle of baby milk 😭😭

and now to the nasty parts! ☺️ if i remember correctly i said this same thing about baby daddy yuj (🤤… sorry—) but jiwonie would sometimes find herself staring at you and thinking back to the night she got you knocked up! it would be worse with her though—unlike yujin’s massive ego showoff, she’s more… dreamy about it? 😭 like she’s really basking in every detail of that night from the stumbling-into-your-bedroom shit while giggling, practically ripping each other’s clothes off while making out, jiwon surprising you with her hidden strength when she suddenly just pushes you into the bed and quite literally gives you the best fucking of your life?? all that of that along with seeing that growing bump in your stomach and your now swollen tits heavy with milk, well… nobody can blame jiwon from getting hard on the spot!

also becomes a clingy perv 🤤🤤 obsessed with backhugging you randomly and kissing your neck bcs it makes you giggle bcs ur ticklish and she loves hearing you laugh BUT ALSO you whimper and get goosebumps all over your skin so it just… turns her on so much 🫣 loves caressing your little baby bump while she half listens to you yap about your day and half touches you all over 😳 you don’t notice what she’s doing until one of her hands is squeezing your inner thigh and the other is making its way up to your breasts,, “our kid’s very lucky.. they have the prettiest mom in the whole world.” and she’s leaving marks all over your neck and shoulder while she feels up your soaked panties… 🫣🫣

jiwon’s a love-maker so expect to be gently fucked while standing by the sink! has definitely memorized each and every spot that has you scratching her arms and curling your toes so you were just completely at her mercy the entire time! the contrast of jiwon telling you the sweetest and prettiest things in your ear while she softly fucks you into an orgasm that has you seeing white?? see, she’s all hot and sexy while fucking you but then you turn around after getting situated and you see a wet spot in the middle of her pants.. even she would laugh and cover up her red face 😭 but she can’t help it okay?! it’s totally normal for someone to cum while fucking their partner.. jiwon just happened to be so stinking cute while doing so that you can’t help but take her to bed afterwards 🤭

now as we’ve established before, jiwon’s always taking care of you and that pretty much tripled every time you wanted to do something ‘drastic’ in terms of sex!☝️ jiwon is always careful when in bed with you, only choosing positions that were safe and comfortable for you even if they weren’t for her! even if you have her rolling her eyes to the back of her head while you ride her, jiwon’s still looking out for you! whether it may be asking if you’re okay, if anything hurts, or just singing your praises to ease you 🥺🥺

jiwon’s so weak against dirty talk too?? 😭 especially when you tell her you want to make a big family with her bcs she knows that means you want her to get you pregnant over and over and yk what that does to her brain?? it almost literally shuts it down bcs she gets sooo turned on at the idea 😵‍💫 sometimes she even thinks about it when she’s cleaning up the house or at work and has to run to the bathroom bcs her fucking cock just wants to burst out of her pants 😭 baby can’t control it, she always needs you :((

ah yeah and the moment your tits start leaking?? it’s so over bcs you’d think that jiwon wouldn’t get even more obsessed with you than she already is but you’re so wrong‼️‼️ teases you and calls you ‘mommy’ a lot while licking and sucking away at your breasts.. and eye contact is a must bcs she loves the flush on your cheeks as you watched her lap all of your milk up! 🫣 and she definitely makes a joke abt being the one to drink your breastmilk if your kid ever gets tired of it but the two of you know damn well it’s not just a joke 🤭 jiwon also loves massaging your breasts to ease the tension in your shoulders and god her dick just gets so fucking hard when she feels her hands get wet w your milk 😵‍💫

in all of your years dating jiwon you never could have guessed that there was a gentlewoman in her! definitely the perfect balance of being a good mommy and a very charming daddy 🥺🥺 speaking of which, her knees turn into jelly whenever you ‘jokingly’ call her ‘daddy’ in and out of bed 🫣 she’s the cutest baby daddy ever 💕

[seonghwaddict]

say my name — song mingi

request by anon. "This is my first request to anyone ever so forgive me if this is..idk incoherent 😭. But lately I've been thinking about a short smut story where the reader (fem) being a backup dancer for ATEEZ and Mingi catching feelings for her over time and then end up fucking in the dressing room and maybe one of the members walks in idk have fun with it. 🤭"

idol!song mingi x backup dancer!reader. genre. smut. warnings. smut below the cut, explicit sexual content minors dni, fingering, some dirty talk, use of petnames (doll, baby), slight dom/sub dynamics, dom!mingi, swearing, intentional lowercase. please let me know if i missed anything. wc. 1.2k.

lilo's notes. i'm back!! this is the first request i've received, hopefully i did it justice. by the time i finished writing i forgot that anonie asked it it's possible for another member to walk in and join.... sorry about that. but anyways, i hope you all enjoyed this!!

listening to. perceive by doma cyno.

masterlist

“fuck, baby,” a hand swiped through your folds, gathering the almost embarrassing amount of arousal from your core. “you’re so wet.”

you like to think your day started off like every other day. you woke up at 7 am, ate breakfast, got ready for the day and arrived at kq two hours later. you went through some choreographies with the other backup dancers until 4 pm, left to run some errands, and then returned to practice some more on your own.

since your first day at the company only a few months ago, you’d always take a few hours after your shift to perfect your art more than you already have. sometimes you’d spend those hours with the other dancers who showed up for the same reason, but surprisingly, a lot of the time it was mingi who found himself practising his group’s or his own choreography alongside you.

the first few times felt awkward, to say the least.

you yourself weren’t really one to strike up conversations with random people, and considering he was part of the group you had to dance for, you were afraid of slipping up and losing your job. but, eventually, he talked to you. after that, things were easier—you’d joke around, take breaks to go eat something, help each other and sometimes even stop what you were working on to choreograph something together; just the two of you.

it was only a month or two later that you caught yourself looking at him in a less than friendly but rather heated way… and much to your surprise, you slowly started noticing his own lustful glances—lips red from biting them and hooded eyes tracking your every movement. but, alas, you weren’t one for first moves.

considering all of this, you weren’t surprised at the position you were currently in; on the floor of the practice room, legs hooked around his as you sat between them, mingi’s lips against the side of your neck, one arm around your waist and the other with his hand inside your panties (your shorts had been discarded long ago, along with his shirt) as he faced you to lthe mirror, forcing you to watch his every movement.

he swiped his middle finger through your folds, gathering some arousal and then slowly circling your swollen clit. a breathy whimper escaped your lips as you threw your head back on his shoulder. the combined sensation of his finger around your nub and his lips kissing and sucking on the sensitive skin of your neck sent another wave of wetness gushing out of you.

“eyes on the mirror, doll,” he moved his head up to whisper right into your ear with that husky voice of his, gently biting down on your earlobe. he removed his hand from your pussy for a moment, letting your legs down to slip your panties off before hooking them over his thighs again. you were practically dripping as he exposed you. “i want you to see what i’m doing, watch how your beautiful little body reacts to me.”

reluctantly, you nodded and pulled yourself off his shoulder, eyes zeroing in on the arousal smeared between your thighs. a moan escaped your lips as he gave your clit a particularly firm tug, his ring and middle finger pressed against the skin on either side of it and pinching gently. you tried holding back your following moans, but the quiver of your thighs gave you away. though, you felt better knowing you weren’t the only enjoying this so much, his erection strained against his pants and poked at your ass. 

his movements against your heat were slow but precise, eliciting pretty little whimpers and moans from you. the hand wrapped around the front of your waist moved up, featherlight touches leaving a trail of goosebumps behind as he gently brushes his fingers over the fabric of your bra. then he nudge the straps down your shoulder and let the bra cups fall, his hand immediately going to tweak at your nipples. 

“f-fuck…” you cursed quietly, trying your best to stop your eyes from fluttering shirt from all the pleasure and keep your eyes on the mirror as he asked.

two of his large fingers circled your entrance, massaging it before slowly pushing in. jaw slack at the stinging stretch, you watched as they disappeared into your vagina, breath stuttering when he curved them just enough to brush against the right spot. your hand snaked it’s way behind his head, tugging on his hair gently.

“oh, look, doll,” you heard him groan behind you, feeling his smirk against your neck, “look at how well you take my fingers…”

and with that he slowly began pumping his fingers in and out of you, digits firmly pressing against the spongey spot inside you each time, increasing his speed more and more as his thumb continue circling your clit. he watched your face in the mirror, analysing each twitch of your muscles and each flutter of your lashes to perfectly adjust his movements. in any other context, you perhaps would’ve appreciated how perceptive he was. but right now you wanted nothing more than to savour the feeling of his fingers, anticipating how his cock would feel in you. 

before you knew it, the familiar knot of an orgasm began tightening in your abdomen, your body squirming.

“shit, mingi…” his name tumbled out of your mouth in a drawl and his movement stopped for a moment.l before he continued at a more rigorous pace. you could’ve sworn you felt his erection twitch behind you. 

“say that again,” he growled, “say my name.”

the rough scratch of his voice made you impossibly wetter as you obeyed quickly. “mingi, o-oh…”

after that it didn’t take much longer for you to snap, coming down hard on his fingers, muscles jerking and back arching as his hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your noises.

“keep it down, baby, someone might walk in and see you at my mercy.”

he pulled his fingers out of you and caressed your thighs. it didn’t take to long for you to calm down from your high, chest heaving with deep breaths as he whispered praises in your ear. despite the fact you just had an orgasm, you knew you still wanted more.

“i-i need… i need you,” you tried, face flushed as you hinted the best you could.

“hm?” he chuckled. “and what exactly do you need of me?”

with a huff, you grinded yourself back against him, against his cock, but he moved his hands to grip your hips firmly and stop you. 

“that won’t do,” he shook his head. “i want you to use your words, doll. can you do that for me, baby?”

a moment of silence passed between you. it was awkward or anything, a teasing grin on his face as he looked you in the eyes through the mirror, your brows furrowed before you sighed.

“god, mingi, i need your cock in me.”

he grinned, hands tugging your shirt and bra off before sitting back on his knees and turning you around. mingi leaned over you, cupping your chin before kissing you with a bruising hardness. once he broke the kiss, a malicious spark shined in his sharp eyes.

“anything for my doll.”

network. @cromernet

[elixirfromthestars]

On Days Like This

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader (established relationship)

Summary: The comforts of sick days with your boyfriend Matt.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warning(s): fluff / descriptions of mild sickness / sick + comfort

requested by anonymous

a/n: hello! i'm jumping between wips and i was able to finish this bingo request 💖 originally it was just going to be the first part, but then I got carried away 🤭✨ as always feedback is appreciated! and my writing challenge is still on going 💗

birthday bingo masterlist ♡ // main masterlist ♡

When He's Sick

“ Matt, don’t even think about it,” you warn as he reaches for the armrest of the couch. You know what he’s about to do and you refuse to let him do it. You’re not letting him move a muscle while he’s sick. 

“ I got it,” you add, rushing to the front door and answering the knock that rang throughout his apartment seconds earlier. Matt grumbles something under his breath as he sinks back onto the couch—a resigned sigh leaving his lips. 

Your boyfriend gets a little grumpy when he’s sick. He relies on his senses to see and it’s hard to do that when he can’t breathe out of his nose and has a constant ringing in his ears. The delirium of his ongoing fever further muddied his brain. The clouding of his senses was overwhelming to say the least and you were trying your best to help remedy that. 

You open the door and grab the items you instacarted to make him some homemade chicken noodle soup. You make your way back to the kitchen where you take the items out and start preparing the meal.

You peak out into the living room. Your boyfriend resembles a child all snuggled up into the blue cotton blanket you draped over him earlier. The slight hum of the television in the background casting a light glow onto him. 

He won’t admit it now, but he secretly loves being taken care of. Its not a feeling he’s used to, but when it comes to you he welcomes it. 

When you’re done preparing the ingredients, you pour them all into a pot to simmer. You wash your hands thoroughly and then make your way over to your boyfriend. Its time to take his temperature again.

“ Hey, how are you feeling?” You ask, your tone filled with a gentle worry. You lower to your knees to be eye level with him.

“ Like my head’s going to explode,” he groans quietly. You give him a weary smile, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead. You’ve done this so many times you can’t tell if his fevers gone down or not. 

“ Open up,” you request as you inch the tip of the thermometer to his lips. He does as told and you take his temperature. 

“ One hundred and two. Looks like that medicine is starting to kick in. You were at one o’three earlier,” you say, slightly optimistic. This does nothing to cheer your boyfriend up as he’s still in his sickly haze.

You kiss your fingers and then press it onto his lips,“ Soup will be ready soon. I promise it’ll make you feel better,” your voice brings him a comfort he direly needs. Coupled that with the indirect kiss and the way you’re brushing away the strands of sweaty hair from his face—he’s in heaven. 

“ Thanks, baby,” he manages to croak out. You brush another strand from his face and he leans into your touch. “ No need to thank me. I’m here for you,” you reply with a soft sincerity. 

Damn the medicine and the soup. All he needs is you. 

After about another forty minutes the soup is done and served in a bowl. You let it cool down a bit before heading over to the couch, setting the bowl down on the coffee table. Matt can faintly pick up the savory aroma in the air and he gently sits up. He intends to reach out to grab the bowl until you swat his hands away lightly. 

“ No. I got it. You focus on getting better. I’ll do the rest,” there’s a slight pout on his lips as you say this. You’re tempted to kiss it away, but you stop yourself. The last thing either of you needed was for you to get sick too.

You blow on the soup a bit before serving him the first spoonful. The warmth spreads throughout his body blanketing him better than anything else did. 

You were right. The soup did make him feel better.

When You're Sick

A content sigh escapes you as Matt massages the lavender scented shampoo into your scalp. His fingers are delicate, but working with purpose as he lathers every strand. Your body was already melting into the bath, but with the way his hands were working—you’d soon melt into him. 

There wasn’t a strand of hair left untouched by him. He gave every bit of it his full attention. Wanting to make sure he was doing things right. He had never done this for anyone before. 

The bath was Matt’s idea and his doing. When you came down with the flu and complained about your achy muscles and congested sinuses—he knew just what to do. 

Well, more like the internet told him what to do and what products to buy.

His every touch was gentle and soothing. The scent of lavender was calming to your senses so he left it in your hair to settle for just a bit while he worked on lathering a rosemary scented body wash into your skin. His fingers work in slow circular motions, applying just the right amount of pressure to pacify the ache. 

“ How’s that?” he asks, fingers gliding over your back as his circular motions continue.

Now you were completely melting into his touch, “ Perfect. That seriously helps so much,” you reply a little breathless, your eyes closing to focus on the feeling. 

Matt grinned, pleased that he was able to help you. He loves taking care of you as much as you take care of him. Being the one you can lean on, on days like this, means everything to him.

When You're Both Sick

“ Come here,” Matt’s quiet voice rings out in his dark bedroom. The slightest sliver of moonlight coming from his window. His arms are outstretched in your direction as you make your way into the covers. 

You sniffle briefly as you snuggle into his side, his arms enveloping you immediately. You clear your throat to hold back a nasty cough that is trying to fight its way out of you. 

Your bodies tangle under the blanket, trying to calm the chills that run through both of you. Matt’s head rests delicately on your head as your face nestles into the crook of his neck. 

The cold medicine starts to take effect as your eyelids get heavier. Matt’s breathing has relaxed signaling to you he’s on the verge of falling asleep too. 

“ Goodnight,” you whisper, tilting your head to plant a soft kiss to his jaw. 

“ Goodnight,” he whispers back, planting a loving kiss to the top of your head, pulling you impossibly closer to him. 

You fall asleep just like that.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Exchanged clothes [S. R] Bolinus brandaris part. 2

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 4.6k

part 1

summary: a small act of kindness leads to a rather peculiar confession

A/N: Okaay, some people showed interest in a sequel to this and I thought I'd do it, I hope you like it enough. Oh and we are still with baby Spencer, later I will write about the second and third seasons (and as I progress in the series, lol)

taglist: @the-ginger-draws @skievers @c-m-stuff

The days passed, the cases continued, and the level of trust in the friendship between you and Reid only grew. Working at The Behavioral Analysis Unit was complicated and exhausting in many ways, which sometimes made you wonder how he managed to put up with all that, because, although you weren’t an old woman, you did have two years more experience compared to him. It's also not like it was your fault that he was a genius and he went to work for the FBI at an extraordinary age. So every time something happened, you were there for him and he was there for you. The whole team really cared about the two of you (and JJ, the third youngest) while still trusting in your abilities to face challenges. And just like in a family, everyone could also notice the existing tension between you and the doctor, because although, at least on your part, the feelings had been there for a long time, they had become more obvious to the rest since of the trip to Miami.

"Good morning" you had greeted part of the team that day, a few weeks after the trip, more energetic than the others would have expected. Neither Hotch nor Gideon were around, for obvious reasons, so it was only when you passed Reid's desk that you stopped, running your hand affectionately through his hair “Hey, Doc.”

"Hello," he responded immediately. Spencer didn't like it when his hair got messy, but he could take it if it was you, just as he could take your constant hugs or the drawings you sometimes made on his hand when you were bored during meetings. Of everything that happened between you, little managed to bother him, almost as if the interactions he avoided with others were something natural with you around.

Although he had stopped wearing his scarf daily, he still wore it at least once a week as a reminder of how special it was to him, and fortunately that day was the chosen one.

“Do we have a case? Or do I just bury my nose in these reports?” you muttered to the others, but they denied "What of that do you say no to?"

"Today they will be documents" JJ spoke kindly.

"Why do I have so many?"

“Because I passed you some of mine,” Morgan sneered and you gasped, completely offended. You whispered something accusatory in his direction that made Spencer laugh from the next desk, and then he reached over to take just under half the folders.

"I will help you"

"Oh no, no, Reid. It's okay,” you said, your voice softening noticeably, as you placed your hands over his to try to stop him.

"It's nothing, I'll finish them in a jiffy"

"Why don't you ever offer to help me, huh?"

“You manage pretty well on your own,” Spencer teased at your friend, now making you laugh. You still had your hands on his under the excuse of collecting your reports and, perhaps unconsciously, both of you postponed the moment for another few seconds, looking into your eyes with a small smile until he finally managed to keep the material that he had stolen from your desk.

"Thank you," you said, so softly that only he could hear you.

Looking at your coworker had already become something of an obsession. You liked his gestures, how he looked away when he spoke, his nervous ramblings, and the straight hair that he apparently was letting grow, but what you liked the most were his hands. When he was explaining a profile, he always communicated a lot with his body language and honestly, the swaying of his hands, combined with the tranquility in his tone of voice, was very hypnotic to you, as if keeping the attention of others was something inescapable for him, although it was probably easier to keep your attention specifically. Right now, while everyone was minding their own business, you were watching sideways as he ran his middle finger over the printed lines. It made you nervous to see the delicacy with which he moved across the sheet of paper and inevitably your mind traveled to inappropriate corners related to that movement, which embarrassed you to the point of blushing. Thank heavens he was too focused to notice you, so you forced yourself to work on the few reports Reid had let you keep.

The days were very rare when no cases appeared, but you were grateful that they existed because sometimes it was necessary to take a breather. Seeing so many bodies, so much blood and so much inhumanity was something you never quite got used to, although having good teammates in your unit made it more bearable. So that night nothing stopped you from finishing right on time, with a little back pain from sitting all day, but also quite calm.

"I'll see you tomorrow, rest"

"Are you going to your apartment?" Spencer asked, rushing towards you with his coat in hand and the briefcase slung over his shoulder, and you nodded Can you wait for me to go together?”

You looked at him, more confused than you wanted, but you said yes. It's not that you were upset or that you didn't want company, but that you were curious as to why he might have offered to do it.

"Thanks again, for earlier," you said, once both of you were outside. You lived a few streets from the office and you could get there in less than 20 minutes by taking a subway station, which fortunately was the same one he took.

“Okay, they were too many for you. I mean, it's not that I think you can't do the job, you're very capable, it's just that I thought it was too much workload for just you and I… well, I could help you so I did it” with that Reid held up a hand to downplay the matter and smiled at you.

“Why have we never thought about walking to the subway together?”

"I don't know either," he said. You felt a gust of wind hit the both of you so you hugged yourself to try and get some warmth and even though Spencer wasn't the best at reading social cues he managed to figure out what you had and what he needed to do 

“Here” he murmured, as he spread the coat and put it on your shoulders.

“Oh no, no, no, Reid. I'm fine"

"In fact, if you don't use it you can catch a cold and although there are very few cases in which there are complications that lead to death, the symptoms last about a week and you can infect several people during the first days, so you not only you would be taking care of yourself but also the rest of the team” he informed you. That made you smile, and you found that behind all his scientific mumbo jumbo, he was trying to take care of you.

"It's a little big on me," you laughed, reaching into the sleeves with some help from him.

“You look pretty” he blurted out from his lips, completely entranced by you “Well, the… the coat. It looks good” he tried to fix, but you laughed at the compliment that you definitely wouldn't pass up.

"Aren't you cold?"

“No, my shirt and vest help,” Spencer replied, showing you the long sleeve of her white shirt. “I also have my scarf, did you forget it?”

"The best choice in all your outfits" you joked, reaching out a hand to feel the soft fabric of the garment and looking at him, with that cute shy smile "What will you do when you get to your apartment?"

“Huh, probably get some sleep. I haven't been resting properly in the past few days."

"Nightmares again?" you sadly asked. Spencer had talked to you superficially about it a few days ago, although you thought that he had suffered from this disease for much longer than he wanted to admit. He didn't answer verbally, he just nodded his head and you thought he didn't want to delve into it “I think I'll spend a while in the bathtub and then I'll sleep. I'm exhausted"

“You close doors and windows before you sleep, right?”

"I do," you assured him.

“Do you also take your cell phone with you to call in case of emergencies?”

"Huh, yeah"

"Good. Take care of yourself” he insisted. Those didn't sound like random recommendations and that puzzled you a bit.

"I do, Reid," you replied softly. When you noticed that the concern in his features did not leave him, you thought it would be prudent to ask him why that was "Are you worried about something?"

"No, it's not that" he hastened to answer. You still had a few blocks to go to get to the subway and only a few passers-by walked the streets, besides you.

“Are they unsub then? Anything in particular that worries you?"

"It's nothing like that. It's just…” he gasped, still unsure to continue, “if I tell you, you'll think it's silly”

"Of course not. Tell me, what is it?" you asked. He was internally debating if he should tell you what he was thinking and he was convinced a little when he felt your hand on his arm, as if prompting him to speak.

“Yesterday I…” he started to say “I had a nightmare. I dreamed when I arrived at the office I found out that something bad had happened to you. And… I don't know, it felt very real and I couldn't get it out of my head” he admitted. You understood that perhaps it was the reason he had wanted to accompany you, as if he feared that someone might stalk you on the way.

“Spence” you murmured gently, as you pulled him a little in your direction to place one hand on his bicep and the other on his forearm “Don't worry, nothing's going to happen to me. My apartment complex has a good security system and I always carry my gun, if something happens on the street, I will know how to deal with it. They're just bad dreams, I have them sometimes too” you said to reassure him. You felt quite comfortable walking in that position and you continued a couple of steps holding him like this, looking for some negative sign from him, but it never came. With the closeness he managed to feel a little less fear, reminding himself that what tormented him were fantasies of his own mind, that if they were analyzed with a little more detail they were an unconscious reflection of how much he feared losing you.

"I told you it would be silly"

"It is not. It's quite sweet, actually,” you smiled, moving your thumb up and down as you smiled at him. In that position your face was at the height of the boy's shoulder and it was enough for him to turn his head to reach your forehead, so he wondered how much you would bother if he left you a kiss there. He wanted to, but held back.

“I just thought I should tell you. For you to be careful"

“Same to you, Reid. You have a rather peculiar ability to get into trouble” you exclaimed accusingly, because in a couple of cases the man had already managed to get on your nerves.

The position turned out to be cozier than you expected and you continued walking the rest of the streets towards the subway in silence. He concentrated on the feeling of your body so close to him and your hands gently holding him, while you lost yourself in thought wondering what you really felt about your coworker and what he felt for you. Spencer would look at you from time to time, analyzing your gestures and enjoying the sight of you wearing his clothes, something he didn't think would affect him the way he did.

“Did you know that railway suicides have a very small percentage in the country's suicide rate?” he told you, while the two of you looked at the subway tracks that you were waiting for. You had had to distance yourself to be able to pay the pennies for the ticket and you had decided to place your hands in the pockets of your borrowed coat, caressing the lining fabric with your fingers.

"I had no idea" you muttered. You were a little surprised that he always had an interesting fact about literally anywhere you were and you loved hearing him tell you “It must be horrible. And very sad"

"Even the government allocates certain resources to pay for psychological therapy for drivers who witness these suicides"

"Well, at least it comforts me to know that part of my taxes ends there," you joked bitterly and the train stopped just as you finished saying it. Reid let you first into the nearly empty car that would take you home, and along the way you continued to talk about less unfortunate things, like the dinner choices you were planning or the TV shows that were likely to be airing when you arrived.

Having those little quiet moments with him made you feel lucky and the laughs he managed to get filled your chest with joy, making you completely forget everything related to work. The voice in the wagon warned that your stop was next and an anticipated sadness invaded you.

“Be…”

"Be careful, I know" you smiled. Since you were already on your feet, so as not to miss your stop, you crouched down to give him a quick goodbye hug “See you tomorrow. Try to sleep and if you have nightmares you can call me, okay?" you muttered. He nodded from his place as he watched you leave towards the platform and leaned out the window to see your figure disappear into the distance.

Neither of you two realized that you had kept his coat until you got home.

As of that night, that coat returned to see the doctor's closet on very few occasions and the purple scarf went on to have joint custody. He had found out that if he loved anything more than wearing the clothes you gave him, it was seeing you wearing them, causing him to come up with totally pathetic excuses to accomplish that. 

"It's a bit cold" "Purple matches your clothes" or simply "keep it, it looks better on you than on me"

It soon became a habit. During the cases, when you two were apart, it was a little comforting to have something of him with you and when he came home, he would enjoy breathing in the smell of your perfume impregnated on the fabric.

After a few weeks you realized that, without a doubt, you were so in love with him. And when he realized the same thing, he was completely terrified.

“Reid” you greeted him one morning, catching up with him as he poured himself a coffee and analyzed a piece of bread that had surely been sitting there since the day before. Hugs when seeing him had also become a habit, quite nice from the man’s point of view "I have something for you"

"Again?"

"Oh yeah," you smiled. Lately you had been filling him with small gifts and most of them quite rare, but which he kept suspiciously in his desk drawer. And it's not that he didn't appreciate it, but that he was beginning to feel guilty for receiving so many and not having given you any yet. "Give me your keys," you asked and he obeyed without even questioning you. Once you had them in your hand, you took a strip of colored beads from your pocket that you added as a key ring, while he looked at you with some confusion.

"What's that?"

“My friend asked me to babysit her daughter this weekend and we went crazy with crafts. So I thought I'd do this to you” you muttered. He took a closer look at the keyring and noted that you had included his favorite colors, purple and green, as well as a heart-shaped bead at the end. "I know it looks like a preschool kid's creation and if you're embarrassed to wear it you can throw it away”

"No, I like it. It's pretty,” he smiled, running his long fingers over the beads. Satisfied with the answer, you took out your own keys and proudly showed them to him.

"I have one just like it," you said happily. That was true, only yours was made of pink and blue, and the way you said it completely touched the man.

"You make me think that there is still goodness in this world, you know?" he exclaimed, so sincere and without thinking that he surprised you "I loved it, thank you very much"

"Now that I think about it, it's like one of those friendship bracelets you make at summer camp”

“I never went to a summer camp”

"I don't know why I'm not surprised" you laughed and would have continued the conversation if it hadn't been for Hotch's interruption.

“We've got a case. Conference room in 5”

Sometimes you forgot that the real reason you were there was the criminal profiles and not seeing Spencer Reid every day.

You just woke up one morning and knew you had to tell Spencer how you felt about him. As you said before, Spencer seemed to have a special magnet for trouble and proof of this were the cases in which he had to perform dangerous tasks that you knew no one else could do. When he had to get on that train with Ted Bryar you'd gone crazy and last week when he'd watched that cult boy on Massanutten Mountain threaten Reid with a gun you decided you'd had enough.

He had expressed concern for your well-being on multiple occasions, but what about his? Didn't you have the right to care about him just as much? every time he came back you wanted to throw yourself into his arms and whisper in his ear if he was okay, to maybe leave a kiss or two on his cheeks. But every time he came back you just cheered with the rest of the team and barely had contact with him beyond a squeeze on the shoulder and a sincere: I'm glad you're okay.

So you thought that if you wanted to have that kind of privilege over others the only alternative was to profess your love to him in the hope that he would feel the same way and you could work something out.

Spencer, for his own part, also had his epiphany and as much as he tried to avoid it he ended up asking Morgan for advice, who was the only person he thought would be suitable to talk about this kind of subject. Surprisingly, Derek behaved discreetly and really gave the doctor valuable elements to understand one of the few sciences in which science was almost obsolete: love.

Going back to recently acquired habits, walking together to the subway was another one of them. Sometimes this was interrupted because he or you stayed longer than the other, but except for those cases it was a regular activity.

So that night, when you two were walking to the station, your mind was immersed in remembering the speech with which you planned to tell your friend.

"You're very quiet today," Reid observed, taking you by surprise. In a few months he had already learned very well some traits that indicated that something was wrong with you.

“Sorry, I… I have a few things on my mind,” you apologized, but Spencer didn't know what to say because he also had his own things on his mind. He was desperately searching for a way to put into words what he felt, but he kept wondering, could that be explained? All attempts at reasoning became useless with you near him, maybe that's why he couldn't think of how to tell you "Reid, I don't think I've ever asked you, but have you ever had a partner?"

"Like… couple?" he asked, trying to make sure you were referring to the same thing he thought.

“I know it sounds weird, but it just… made me curious,” you exclaimed, shrugging and then crossing your arms in an attempt to comfort yourself. Reid fondly watched how your arms were on that purple scarf and felt a little motivated to speak.

“Huh, in that case, yes, something like that. I dated two people when I was in school, but it wasn't anything serious, just a few kisses” he explained to you and you failed to contain your laughter, maybe because of the way he had explained it. Spencer blushed to his ears and smiled reflexively at your smile. "Don't tease!"

"I don't" you defended yourself. Another person walked down the sidewalk and he reached out his arm to move you protectively in front of him, so when you came back to his side you took advantage of the distance between you, to the point where your shoulder brushed against his arm.

"And you?" he asked after a while of silence "Have you had many boyfriends?"

"The truth? not so many. With most of them I lost interest after the first date and the others left me when they found out I was in the academy. Apparently armed women aren't very attractive” you smiled. You had asked about his romantic history, and incidentally talked a bit about yours, only to open the topic and somehow feel that your confession would not be so out of place.

“There are studies that indicate that women take longer to fall in love than men, perhaps that is why you lost interest quickly. For you it takes about 6 or 8 dates to decide if you want something with a person, because you are more selective and better analyze personality traits in men. But they only care that the girls are… well, pretty” he murmured, with a smirk “On average it takes women 134 days to fall in love while men only 88”

“How long have you and I known each other?”

"It must be like... a year and a half now" he exclaimed, mentally doing the math "Why?" he continued legitimately confused. For the genius that he was, Reid was naive at times.

You looked down at him and for a second thought that even with those bags under his eyes and the stubble he hadn't shaved, Spencer was the most handsome man you'd ever met. Not receiving an answer, he looked at you and was surprised to see the sparkle in your eyes.

"Okay, can we stop here for a moment?" you asked. You knew you were probably going to chicken out if you didn't say it right then, even if that closed beauty salon you were standing in front of was an unromantic place. "I need to tell you something”

You had said it with determination, but once you were face to face, your mind went blank. You panicked: how were you going to tell him? What was the right thing to say? What reaction did you expect?

But Spencer, noticing the silence, decided to be the first to speak.

“Noradrenaline is a neurotransmitter that produces excitement and effusivity, increases heartbeat, blood pressure, causing sweating of hands and flushing. High dopamine levels generate a need to be with the person that releases it and is related to serotonin, which generates well-being, optimism, social closeness, and reduces discomfort and anger. Phenylethylamine makes everything more intense, makes us feel more motivated and optimistic and finally, oxytocin is the love hormone par excellence, it occurs when we have a bond of trust with people or when we feel a strong attraction. Sometimes it is also released when we embrace the reason for our affection” he had said that so hastily and waving his hands, that he could only show how nervous he was. He inhaled to catch his lost breath, then finally made eye contact with you, taking a moment before continuing, “What I'm trying to say is…you make me feel all of that. You alter my chemistry in ways I've never thought of and… and I… go all goofy and don't know what to say…”

"Spencer" you interrupted him "You mean you like me?" you asked gently, because you knew that when he started to wander sometimes you needed to bring him back down to earth. Reid looked at you tight-lipped and nodded slowly.

You were silent for a second, trying to process what he had just told you, and he got even more nervous than he was.

“But I think that after all this what I care to know is… if you feel the same way. Or in the worst case, if you think you might feel something like this”

“A total chemical mess for you?” you exclaimed amused. One of your hands went to his and you gently held it, taking a step closer to him. “I'm sorry, Reid. I feel it every time I look at you, that you hug me, every time I give you those silly gifts and see the smile on your face. Everything in you causes me that"

"Are you serious?" he asked, wanting to be completely sure what he was hearing. You laughed and wrapped your free arm around his neck, pulling him into a hug.

“Of course I do. Before you said all that I was racking my brain trying to find a way to tell you how I felt."

“Did you know that this is a phenomenon? There are those who call it the tuning fork effect, which is when two people connect the same idea at the same time, almost as if they had been thinking at the same frequency.”

You chuckled and buried your head in his neck, letting go of his hand so you could hug him properly. He wrapped both arms around your waist and buried his head in your hair, willing to say nothing more for fear of ruining the moment. All the fears you had had were being buried with that contact, because now you had the certainty that what you felt was mutual.

You stayed like that for what felt like hours, just listening to the gentle beating of his heart and enjoying the sense of security that being in the man's arms made you feel.

"I really like you" you broke the silence, with a whisper, making him smile.

"I think the most logical step from here would be to ask you out on a date, no?" he muttered. You pulled away enough to look at him, but still leaving your arms around his shoulders.

“I don't want to have to wait. Let's go for a burger"

"Don't you prefer somewhere more... formal?"

"Leave formal places for proposals, handsome," you said in a playful voice, caressing his cheeks with your extended palm and he made a mental note that this Italian restaurant he was thinking of inviting you to would be the ideal place to ask you to take the next step, when the time was right. 

“I still have to take you on at least 6 dates, to be sure”

"Fuck the statistics, I don't need that burger to know I'm in love with you," you said and he grinned from ear to ear.

“I know a place with an excellent health label and organic food, it is a few streets from here”

"I follow you" you answered cheerfully "On one condition"

"Which?"

"Let me hold your hand," you asked softly and Reid wasted no time in fulfilling your wish, leading you to the restaurant that way.

And at the end of the night, when you stole a kiss from him, he couldn't have felt luckier.

[hannieween]

reverie | city lights series | h.js

Joshua Hong was many things aside from your hot neighbour—he was a menace, a relentless tease. But most importantly, he was the first guy to ever make you feel wanted. And you were yet to know how dangerous that was.

✮ pairings: joshua hong x female reader ✮ genre: smut (18+) ✮ word count: 16.2k ✮ aus: rock singer joshua, neighbors with benefits

› part i — link to my other fics

›🎧: best lover - bibi | thirsty - taemin | crazy like you - chungha, bibi | poison - nct dream ♡︎

› smut tags under the cut

✮ warnings: alcohol use, dubcon: reader is drunk and joshua helps her change to pjs, smut with plot, big dick Joshua, dom Joshua, dirty talk, foul language, praise kink, somewhat inexperienced reader, multiple sex scenes, fingering (f. receiver), oral sex (f, m) guided blowjob, cum swallowing, protected sex, squirting, brat taming: bondage, orgasm control (f), use of toys and overstimulation (f), dumbification, multiple orgasms (f, m), pet names: baby, pretty girl, princess, sweetheart, bunny (hers)

part ii

"Zero survival instincts," Yen scoffed, "None. Out the window."

"Yen, I'm fine," you insisted. "Nothing bad happened."

She sent you an irritated look. "What if he was a serial killer?"

You rolled your eyes. "He's not, Yen. He's just my neighbor."

"Are you serious right now?" she asked. "The least you could've done was sending me a text: 'hey yen, i'm inviting my neighbour over to fuck me into the next day, don't worry, he's not going to turn me into jerky'."

You laughed at the crude language, your best friend simulating typing on an imaginary phone.

"Shhh, keep it down, Yen," you muttered when you saw people from the tables around you glance at you.

Sitting at a cozy table for two in a charming bar, the atmosphere around him was quiet, with the soft glow of candlelight. The surrounding tables were occupied by couples, either engaged in a romantic conversation or trying to start one.

In the quiet atmosphere, your table stood out as the noisy one, occupied by two women who were indulging in the warmth of alcohol and pastries.

And, truth be told, were quite drunk on red wine.

"If he killed you at least I'd have something to tell the police," she continued with another roll of her eyes.

"But he didn't kill me. We just had sex, that's it."

She looked around your table, and suddenly you could sense that she was really invested. "How was it, then?"

You felt a sudden twinge in the apex of your thighs from just the memory of your last.

"It was so good," you sighed, and leaned on the table. "It was really really good, Yen. The best I had in my life, I think. Yeah, definitely."

"Wow, damn," she muttered, a sly grin appearing on her round face. "Not gonna lie. I'm jealous."

You chuckled. "I'm actually kind of surprised that he accepted, though," your brow furrowed, feeling your cheeks grow hotter in the mixture of being drunk and flustered at the memory. "He is so hot, Yen. Like really, really hot."

"Okay, okay. I believe you," she scoffed. "You know, when I told you to commit to writing sex scenes, I didn't mean to go methodical," she gave you a look and then smiled slyly again.

"What, I felt like I needed to experience the real thing before writing pages about it," you shrugged.

"That's a lame excuse," she said as she swirled her wine glass in the air.

"I think it's working," you leaned your cheek against your palm, your elbow propped up on the table.

"Oh, oh. Can I read the product of your little adventure?" her eyes widened.

"God, no," you recoiled at the thought. "This is just for... inspiration. There's still a lot of things I want to try before finishing the manuscript."

"What—wait a minute," she held up her hand. "Are you going to keep seeing him?"

You blinked. "Yeah, I didn't tell you?" your brow furrowed.

"Do you mean to tell me that you'll be fucking your neighbour until you finish the manuscript?!"

"Yen, it's fine," you shushed. "It's just sex. There's nothing to worry about."

Nothing to worry about. Except there was hardly anything that could take your mind off the memory.

As you walked to the interior of your building after being dropped off by Yen, all you could keep thinking was to knock on his door. Just go, knock and he'd know. That was your deal.

You have been wanting to do that all week. But you were reluctant about it because you didn't want to come across as needy.

It was now Wednesday, three nights after that night with Joshua. You had slept together, and in the following morning he left.

You stumbled out of the elevator and into the hallway, feeling so tipsy that you almost took a full minute to be certain of which of the doors led to your apartment.

The device on your door was a smart-lock that simply functioned as a key. You didn't bring your keys, so you entered your six number combination.

The beeping noise from the smart-lock of your door indicated that you had only two more attempts left before being locked out of your apartment for the next hour.

You hummed, attempting to keep steady, but couldn't ignore the gentle sway of your body from side to side. Biting your lower lip, you struggled to concentrate, but the effects of the wine bottle were swiftly taking hold.

With a click of your tongue, you stepped back to double check you were standing in front of your door. You were.

"C'mon. You can do this," you hissed to yourself as you tried to enter the combination of your smart lock.

Beep beep. Wrong again.

One attempt left.

"What," you whispered to your lock again.

You tried to rest your head on your door for more stability, but when your forehead landed a loud thud resounded on the hallway.

"Ow," you winced.

Maybe you should ask for help.

No. You can do this. Is a simple stupid lock.

The sound coming from the door next to yours startled you. But you made no attempt to move your forehead from your door, expecting to see either Joshua or his roommate, the latter you haven't met yet.

But the sweet voice calling your name from the next door made you want to sink into the ground and never be seen again.

Joshua doesn't need to see you like this, you said to yourself.

"Are you okay?" Joshua asked, and you jolted to find him next to you, his eyes examining your drowsy ones.

"Um, I can't enter my combination," you mumbled as one of your hands pushed the hair from your face.

"You're drunk," he realized then, his fingers taking your chin for his eyes to survey you, a small smile appearing on his lips. "What did you have?"

Your cheeks were already flushed from the wine, but you could swear a different kind of warmth started burning beneath your skin the exact moment he touched you.

Before you could answer to his question, you take a brief look at him. Joshua wore an oversized gray plaid shirt, a black t-shirt underneath, and light gray sweatpants. A cap adorned his head, hiding his dark hair. You came to the conclusion that, whatever he was wearing, he would no doubt look hot.

Your mouth went dry. "Jus' a bottle of wine," you muttered, trying to brush off his hand but not succeeding.

"D'you have your keys?" he said as you drunkenly tried to enter your combination to no avail. His large hand swatted yours before you could enter any numbers on the pad.

"Keys," you repeated. "Don't think so."

"Let me help you before you lock yourself out," he hushed with his cute smile. "Tell me your combination."

The combination to your smart lock escaped your lips, trusting him with it completely without a second thought. He entered the combination and the lock beeped again, the small light blinking green.

"There you go," he muttered.

"Thank you," you whispered, pushing your door open and turning around to see his face one last time before going to bed.

You opened your mouth, feeling a strange tickling under your skin as you faced him.

"I uh..."

When no other words came out, Joshua smiled softly with a sigh and entered your apartment with you.

"Come on, princess. I'll take you to bed," he muttered and closed the door behind him, taking your hand gently and pulling you to the interior of your apartment.

"Mmkay," you cooed, letting him drag you to your bedroom.

In the darkness of your apartment, you saw him dressed in a way that was atypical of his usual style, almost as if he had thrown on whatever he found first–

"You look cute with a cap," you blurted before you could even stop yourself.

"You think so, princess?" he replied and took his cap off to put it on your head. "You look cute too."

A giggle bubbled up in your chest. "Caps make m'ears look bigger," you slurred.

As you entered your bedroom, you removed the cap from your head and, at the same time, stumbled upon a pile of forgotten clothes scattered on the floor. You vaguely remembered throwing them aside while you were looking for something to wear for tonight.

"Careful," he mumbled, catching you before you hit the ground. "You're tripping with those big ears of yours, bunny."

You burst into high-pitched laughter, which resembled a kid's. As if you had just heard the funniest joke. Joshua smiled as he heard you, an endearing expression on his face.

It made you feel fuzzy inside.

"Why did you drink tonight? What was the occasion, I mean," he asked as he helped you sit on your bed.

He crouched before you and started removing your shoes. Every action was carefully done, nothing was rushed, everything was carried out with delicacy.

"I went out with my best friend to this really fancy bar," you told him with an air of contentment.

"What's your friend's name?" he asked almost a second later.

Then, in the back of your mind where you still had some lucidity, you gathered that he was trying to keep you fully awake as he helped you climb your high bed.

"Yen, Yena," you mumbled.

With a sudden movement, your body fell back against the soft mattress and you gasped. Your head spun rapidly and the rush that ran through your body caused you to giggle.

"Careful there," he cautioned, just as he was taking your socks off. You could also hear him laughing a bit.

"Are you laughing at me?" you whined, your hands instinctively covering your warm cheeks as giggles continued to escape.

"I would never, princess. You're cute when you're drunk," he replied simply.

"Mmm, you don't think I'm ridiculous?" your voice was muffled by the hands burying your face.

"Why would I think that?" you heard him ask.

"Dunno," you mumbled sheepishly. "'m really drunk, J'shua," you slurred.

"I know, bunny," he chuckled. "Where are your pjs?"

You slowly uncovered your face to see him standing before your bed.

"Second drawer," you replied pointing to the drawers next to your bed, feeling your cheeks blaze.

There was no real reason to feel this shy, considering that Joshua had already seen every inch of your naked body. But the idea of him taking care of you took on new meaning in your mind. It made you feel closer to him.

"Oooh, what do we have here?" he said with a cheeky grin.

Then he pulled a pink lace thong, holding it up in the air with his fingers.

"Joshua!" you gasped. "That's not the second drawer!"

He giggled playfully. "Oops, my bad," he said, but continued rummaging on your stuff, pulling out a see-through mesh red bra. "This is really nice, bunny. Will you wear it next time for me?"

You groaned helplessly, but before you could come up with a quippy response, his eyes widened in surprise.

"Princess, you didn't tell me you had toys," he said with a surprised tone, dropping the playful act.

"Stop," you whined with a laugh and turned to crawl across your large bed toward him.

Before you could even make it to the other side of your bed, you stumbled and your face collided with the mattress, making you erupt into uncontrollable laughter.

You heard his genuine laugh resonate through the room, causing a flutter in your stomach, followed by the muffled noise of the drawer shutting close.

"Alright, alright. Time for bed," he announced, and a hand gently flipped you on the mattress. He sat on the edge of the bed next to your body. "I'm going to take your top off, okay?"

You nodded a little too eagerly, and that made him smile with a shake of his head.

"Now don't get any ideas, sweetheart," he said.

Then his hands grabbed the hem of the cute top you wore to your date with your best friend.

As the top came off and you were left under his gaze, you felt as if your whole skin was on fire, every inch tingling with an overwhelming sensation.

But he remained silent. You tried to make out the expression on Joshua's face, while he was deeply focused on his task, giving no signals that he wanted to do more with your body.

"Bra on or off?" he asked softly.

"Off," you whispered, feeling a sudden impatience take over your mind and body despite the effects from the wine still strumming on your ears.

"Kay," he replied in the same tone. "Arch your–"

You instantly arched your back for him before he could even finish the sentence. His eyes examined your face again with a hint of curiosity. 

"I'm starting to think you're enjoying this, princess," he said with a cheeky smile.

When a hand slid behind your back, it was then that you realized he was keeping his touch on your skin at a minimum. Joshua unclasped the pretty bra you wore, his fingers removing the straps from your shoulders without touching your skin.

Something sparked in you when his gaze wandered over your naked skin. Darkened eyes marveled at your tits as your nipples hardened from the bite of cool air and the skin around them bumped helplessly.

A small silent whine bubbled in your chest, your whole body tingling, needing to be sated by his touch. You gulped hard. He noticed.

"Do you want me to continue?" he asked with a gentle tone, so low you barely heard it above the buzzing in your eardrums.

"Yes," you whispered eagerly, looking at his eyes. "I trust you, Joshua."

At that, Joshua stopped and contemplated you. The momentary silence made you wonder if you had said something wrong, and you waited for his response.

But he just booped the tip of your nose.

"Sit up," he commanded with his sweet voice.

He extended his hands out to you to help you reincorporate in your bed so that he could put the top of your pyjamas on your body.

When you lay back on the soft covers of your bed, a sigh came out of you, revealing all the emotions that were bubbling up in your chest.

But Joshua interpreted it differently.

"Don't fall asleep yet. I need you awake for this," he urged with his sweet voice.

For a moment you thought that maybe you looked way too drunk. Perhaps, you felt better than you looked: the sluggishness of your limbs with every movement you made, the heavy eyelids, the clumsy tingling in your cheeks and mouth every time you spoke: all symptoms caused by the wine.

"I'm not sleeping," you said as you blinked slowly.

"Good girl," he muttered.

But the rest of your body was ablaze, desperate for his touch. You inhaled deeply, trying to fill your chest with something other than the desperate need for him.

The room was spinning. Was it spinning a minute ago? Who knows.

"I feel dizzy," you mumbled in a whiny tone.

"Hang on, princess. I'm almost done, okay?" he instructed. Still, you could hear that warmth in his voice. 

With careful fingers, he undid the zipper and button of your pants. You lifted your hips from the bed for him to slide them down your legs effortlessly.

Joshua was piling your clothes carefully on the foot of the bed, you noticed. He folded your pants in half and when he turned to you, he surveyed the lower half of your body, partially naked before him.

His darkened eyes found yours, an unspoken question written in them.

"Off," you whispered before he could ask.

A heavy sigh left him.

"Eyes on me, baby," he instructed again.

Then he removed your white lace thong, with so much care that his fingers didn't even graze your skin. He didn't skip a beat when he was already grabbing the matching bottoms of your bunny pyjamas, sliding them up your legs.

You smiled contently and made a move to sit up on the bed. "Need to wash," you muttered suddenly.

He smiled at the clumsiness to which you lowered yourself to the floor. "C'mon," he extended his hands to you and when you stood, you stumbled backwards a bit.

With his strong hands he helped you get to the bathroom without staggering and stood outside the door in case you needed help with anything, but still giving you the privacy to tend to your needs.

Afterwards, Joshua helped you to get under the sheets and covers of the bed, tucking you in, and then he bent down and placed a sweet kiss on your forehead.

"Such a gentleman," you cooed with a weak smile.

"Here to help," he replied with a pressed smile. "Sleep now, princess. I'll see you tomorrow, m'kay?"

You reached for his hand before he could distance himself any further, stopping him in his tracks.

"Don't go," you mumbled.

He sat back down slowly and placed his hand on your tummy, the mere weight of his hand and the warmth seeping through the fabric of your pyjamas made you repress a whine.

"Sleep with me?" you slurred, clenching the hand that was still clasped by yours.

"You're drunk, sweetheart. I'll come by tomorrow," he said and patted your tummy softly.

"Please? I promise I won't try anything," you mumbled.

You felt your eyes involuntarily welling up a little. You knew it was partly due to the effects of alcohol, yet you also suspected it was because of the emotions you'd been accumulating over the past couple of days.

Looking conflicted, a small guttural groan escaped him.

"Fine," he groaned in defeat.

A smile of victory crept up your face as you did what he asked. He stood from your bed to remove his shoes and the grey shirt he was wearing. You watched him carefully place his stuff on the armchair in the corner of your bedroom.

He lay down beside you under the sheets, approaching you cautiously.

"How do you feel?" he mumbled.

"Better," you sighed softly.

"Still dizzy?" he asked, his eyes hopeful.

"Mm nope," you mumbled, 

Eyeing him shyly, you scooted toward his body and nuzzled softly on the side of his shoulder, feeling his warmth.

"Thank you for taking care of me, Joshua," you said as the scent of his cologne invaded your already overwhelmed senses.

An arm slid beneath your body, pulling you closer to his chest.

"Don't mention it," he replied.

"I didn't ruin any plans, right?" your head snapped back to look at him.

His fingers trailed on the side of your arm, causing goosebumps on your skin at their wake.

"Not really, no," he hummed. "I was thinking about you, actually."

"You were?" you asked in an embarrassingly high pitch tone.

"I wanted to see you, princess," he cooed, moving his head on the pillows to look you in the eye.

A flutter in your stomach took your focus away. Joshua wanted to see you. The way he made it sound was almost as if he missed you.

"Was thinking of knocking on your door."

Oh.

That had an entirely different meaning. Knocking on your door would mean that he wanted to have sex with you.

"You..." you mumbled awkwardly. "D'you still want to?"

Something shifted in your brain. He might have just missed your body, but it was still enough to rouse something within you. The alcohol offered little help, but instead intensified your body's every reaction.

The tingling in your face, the rush of warmth that washed through you, pooling between your legs.

"Definitely not, princess," he laughed softly, putting your ideas to rest. "I won't touch you like this," he finalized sternly.

You let out a whine that sounded more like a childish cry, burying your face in his chest and sighing in frustration.

"It's bad manners to have sex with people who are not sober, baby," he explained, his tone was not condescending, but almost sweet or caring.

"But what if I want to, Joshua," you mumbled, your flushed face still buried in the warmth of his hard chest.

"I'm not going to fuck you no matter how much you beg," he said with a small chuckle.

"But I wan' you to," you whined against his chest.

You were so close to his chest that you felt the strumming of his heart, heard the small sigh leave his body. Your fist scrunched up on his t-shirt.

"You told me you wouldn't try anything, princess," he reminded you sternly.

Joshua took the hand that has balled into a fist, grabbing on his shirt and laced his fingers with yours in an attempt to soothe you.

"Mm, it's jus'—I need you," you mumbled, sneaking a glance in his eyes.

"I'm here, bunny," he muttered softly.

"But I've been wanting to see you all week," you said with a sigh.

Your face grew hotter on your drunken confessions, but you forced yourself to make eye contact with him despite the daze from the wine.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked while the hand that grabbed yours played with your fingers.

"I didn't want you to think I'm needy," you mumbled sheepishly, still trying to hold eye contact, but your eyes were shifty. 

"What?" he asked with a feigned tone of surprise. "I thought we had already established the other night that you're needy. Like, really needy," he laughed.

You scoffed and hid your flushed face on his hard chest again, but he pulled back, his fingers on your chin forcing you to face him.

"I'm only joking, princess," he smiled reassuringly. "Whenever you want to you can let me know."

You opened your mouth but before you could protest, he added:

"As long as you're sober."

You let out a bashful sniffle and pouted.

"Tell you what: if you go to sleep now, I'll give you whatever you want tomorrow. How about that?" he asked, looking down to find your eyes, he let go of your hand and stroked the side of your face softly.

Your eyelids fluttered under his touch. "Whatever I want?" you asked, looking at his rosy lips and then his eyes.

"That's right, baby. Whatever you want," he conceded.

"Mmkay," you mumbled.

You relaxed in his embrace, letting go of your demands at that very moment.

"Good girl," he muttered, pressing his lips on your forehead for a long second before resting his head on the pillow next to yours.

Your cheeks flushed and a fluttering sensation invaded your chest.

"G'night, Joshua," you mumbled a second before you closed your eyes and fell asleep.

The following morning, you woke up to a headache drilling in the back of your head.

You groaned in pain, ears ringing as you opened your eyes to only wince in pain at the faint morning light filtering through the parted door of your otherwise blackout dark bedroom.

Still drowsy you looked to the other side of your bed to find Joshua asleep.

Your breath hitched at the sudden invasion of memories—you had partially forgotten that Joshua had spent the night in your bed with you again.

He was lying on his side, an arm extended to your direction. You had the faint memory of him hugging you close to his frame, so perhaps you fell out of his embrace during the night. 

Joshua's features looked relaxed, peaceful even. His flush lips pursed softly as he swallowed and nuzzled the pillow. The way he looked so cute and innocent made you smile a little. 

With every movement you took, your body protested in pain. But you hurried yourself to the bathroom, taking the time to properly wash and refresh yourself to recover from your hangover.

Under the warm stream of the shower, you mentally retraced the events of the night. The drunken confessions that spilled from your mouth. Joshua's careful hands changing your clothes and helping you to bed.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as soon as he saw you come back to your bedroom, your body wrapped in a bath towel.

He was still lying on his side, but something told you that he woke up the second he heard you leave the bedroom.

"I just have a light headache but I'll be fine," you assured him.

His hand, which was still extended in the same way as when you left, patted the space you occupied during the night.

"Come here," he muttered.

With a sigh that denoted your nervousness, you walked toward your bed and climbed next to him over the covers. You lay on your side, facing him, propping your head on your hand, your elbow on the pillow next to his.

"D'you remember what happened last night? Why I'm here?" he asked, his voice still groggy, but it sounded soft.

"It's not like I was black out drunk," you smiled. "I remember everything, Joshua."

"Jus' wanted to make sure," he whispered.

With a small nod of his head, his eyelids closed slowly and he seemed to dozed off again. His chest rising and falling heavily, his face relaxing to his lips parting a little.

You took a moment to appreciate his beauty before jumping down from your bed, darting your eyes toward the man lying on your bed—to find him asleep.

Then you unwrapped the towel that covered your body. Careful not to make a sound, you busied yourself moisturizing your skin while you cast a few glances at him, making sure he was asleep.

But a few seconds later, you noticed him stir in your bedsheets, his eyelids fluttering slowly as he found you standing before your bed, wholly naked.

Your breath hitched, but curiosity sparked within you when his eyes surveyed your whole body from top to bottom.

Attempting to ignore that he kept his gaze trained on your frame, you busied yourself on looking for something to wear.

"Don't get dressed," he muttered softly when he saw you rummage through your drawers.

You darted a look at him. His sleepy eyes on you, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Or do, I don't care. Just come back here," he sighed sluggishly, patting the side of the bed again.

You smiled shyly and climbed back to the spot you had taken a few minutes ago. You slid beneath the bed sheets, next to his warm body.

"You talk in your sleep," he hummed.

Then his hands grabbed you by the hips, with a sharp pull his chest was now pressing on yours, his arms encircling your naked body tightly to snuggle you as if he wanted to sleep again.

It was a sweet embrace, almost too intimate. A part of you couldn't deny you liked it—being this close to Joshua. You grabbed him by the shoulders, uneasy of being fully naked in his tight embrace.

"I–uh I didn't know," you whispered, your heart strumming so hard that you could almost sense that Joshua could feel it against his chest.

Truth be told, Joshua was the first man you had ever slept with. He wasn't your first sexual partner, that much was already disclosed with him—you've had a couple of other partners in the past, but none of them were memorable to even matter.

Joshua was the first to make you feel real pleasure, the first to make you orgasm, to make you feel wanted.

And you were yet to know how dangerous that is.

"What did I say?" you asked reluctantly.

He took a breath, as if remembering and then he let out a breathy laugh. "Bunch of nothings, but you went for hours."

"Oh god," you groaned. "I'm so sorry, Joshua."

"You didn't talk that much the other night," he paused. "But maybe you were too tired the other night to even speak, right princess?"

Your stomach jolted a bit.

"Mmm-mmph. So tired," you agreed despite the growing flush in your face. "Last night's ramble wouldn't have happened if I was tired too."

"Oh, bunny. You think you're so slick. But you're so bratty," he cooed mockingly as his hands explored your bare back, his fingers sinking in the skin of your hips.

"What are you going to do about it?" you asked through a breathy mumble when his hands caused your heart to race.

"Nothing," he stated softly.

A long silence happened between you and Joshua. You almost thought that he might have dozed off yet again, but when you pulled from his embrace, he was grinning menacingly.

"But you promised–"

"I never promised anything," his brow furrowed. "When have you ever heard me say the words 'I promise'? Never."

A frustrated groan came out from you before you could stop it.

"You told me you would do anything I asked today!" you whined, feeling ashamed by his game.

"See, I never promised," he cooed again.

"But you said–"

"And I will do it, sweetheart," he cut in. "But I never specified at what time of the day I'll do it."

"Joshua!" you whined again, feeling the need to cover your flushed face.

He laughed merrily, he was enjoying this.

"I didn't bring condoms," he muttered, dropping the playful smile.

Your eyes narrowed. "You're lying."

"It's true," he put in simply. "Someone went through all of them the other night and I haven't bought more," he emphasized with a cheeky grin, he even shrugged slightly looking as if he enjoyed torturing you.

Which, he probably did.

You were a split second away to throw all away and beg him to fuck you raw. But the last thread of sanity you still preserved in your mind stopped you.

"I forgot to ask," he said suddenly. "Have you made your list?"

You stilled and looked away embarrassed. "Um, I've thought of some things."

"Like what? Maybe we could do something tonight," he replied.

In reality you haven't gotten around making a list of things you want to try in bed with him. Your mind only ends up wandering in sex fantasies of what you'd do and never actually write something down.

"I have some ideas, but I don't know yet," you mumbled sheepishly, darting a shifty glance up his eyes.

The pierced eyebrow arched up. "I'm listening."

A smile appeared on your lips. "You're taking this really seriously," you pointed.

"Of course," he frowned, pretending to be offended. "I want to help my neighbor with her book."

You rolled your eyes with a smile.

"Besides, it's not like I get to do this everyday," he paused. "Well, unless you let me," he muttered, tilting his head forward.

"What?" you asked in a gasp. "Like you don't have people throwing themselves at you at any chance they get."

"Only my pretty neighbors," he chuckled and you playfully slapped his shoulder.

"Seriously, Joshua. You don't get a lot of groupies or whatever?"

He scoffed loudly. "Groupies. What are you, a sixty year old lady in disguise?"

"You know what I mean," you mumbled, starting to feel deeply embarrassed.

"Not really, princess. It's not what you think. I can show you if you want. Tonight," he suggested in a low tone.

The features of his face had hardened, denoting that he was more serious now.

"Tonight?"

"Only if you want to, of course," he shrugged, and you could tell from his tone, the lack of warmth and playfulness that he seemed to be detached.

"I'd love to," you replied and his face relaxed. Was he expecting you to say no?

"Kay," his lips pressed in a smile. "I'll come later to pick you up. And after that we can get into your list, deal?"

"Deal," you smiled shyly, not wanting to express the full excitedness you felt.

You noticed that every time he smiled contently, two dimples appeared crowning his mouth. Joshua sighed and then he cupped your chin with his hand, surveying your face for a moment.

"How's your head, still hurting?" he asked, his other arm still pulling you close to his frame.

"A bit. I'm fine, Joshua. Don't worry," you gave him a small reassuring smile.

"Kay," he whispered and pressed his lips on your forehead just like he did before you fell asleep in his arms.

You felt his lips relax on your forehead but he didn't pull away, his other hand returned to its original place on your waist. You assumed that he was dozing off again, and your suspicions turned correct when his breathing gained more depth.

Then you let yourself be absorbed in his embrace and your hands moved from his shoulders to his hard chest over his t-shirt. You felt the soft thumping of his heart, the slow rhythm of his breathing.

Your eyes darted to his face. He was asleep.

The hem of his shirt hung loose over his collarbones, you felt his soft and warm skin under your fingertips, lost in thought of him. Drinking the sweet scent of his skin and clothes.

Your fingers then wandered from his collarbones to his neck, his Adam's apple bobbed as the pads of your fingers touched it carefully.

But then a larger hand seized yours, pulling your arm above your head as his body pushed your body flat on the bed with a groan. The other hand was seized as well, thus pinning your wrists above your head.

A yelp bubbled in your chest, but when you felt his hard body pressing yours against the bed your curious eyes glanced up to see his face.

But before you could say something, your mouth was clasped with his with a chaste kiss.

"You're handsy," he muttered gruffly on your lips.

The grip on your wrists tightened a bit when Joshua dipped his head on the crook of your neck where he pressed his lips on your skin, to then nibble at your skin with his teeth.

"I wanted to wait 'til tonight but you're so needy. Such an impatient pretty girl," he grunted as his hand grabbed your wrists pressed down on the pillows, making you yelp and squirm.

Being somewhat restrained made you feel restless, but you made no attempt to break free, since you were quickly subdued by the feeling of his breath on the crook of your neck.

"'m sorry," you mumbled just as he started placing wet kisses on your collarbone, making his way to your tits.

"Are you, baby?" he asked, and your eyes fell on his. His pierced eyebrow cocked slightly. "I don't think you're sorry at all."

He let go of your wrists just so he could cup your breasts with his hands and before you could muster a response, he wrapped his mouth on one of your nipples, making you cry out instead.

The feeling of having his hot mouth around your nipple made you shiver, the whole area covered by his tongue and drool felt tingling and ablaze.

Hearing the non-verbal response you made, he moved his mouth to do the same with your other hardened nipple, licking and nibbling at it softly with his teeth. He hummed while doing so, as if he liked the taste of your skin on his mouth.

Your hands quickly grabbed at whatever was nearest, fingers landing on his head as you squirmed and moaned helplessly on your bedsheets. 

He pressed his lips down your sternum and he lowered himself to your belly, his hands parting your legs so he could place his body between them and continue kissing and licking your skin.

"Please-" you whispered as you writhe in pleasure under the touch of his lips.

"Please, what?" he asked as he raised his head to look at you. "What do you want, princess?"

"Do whatever you want, just-" you gulped suddenly. "I need you, Joshua. I've waited all week."

His eyes searched yours, just like he did last night when you were drunk.

"Please," you whispered and that apparently did it for him.

He lowered himself pressing wet kisses on your lower abdomen as his mouth reached between your legs, his eyes darted a look toward yours before his fingers parted your pussy lips carefully, earning a high keen moan from you.

"Fuck. You're dripping," he muttered gruffly as his finger swiped a line on your cunt, making you flinch and moan pathetically. "Practically wetting the bed."

Then his tongue dipped between your parted lips, slowly licking a stripe on your wet folds. You let out a loud moan, grabbing a handful of black hair, making him hum softly when you tugged at it.

Joshua wasn't looking for you to say something, because he quickly continued making out with your clit. You were practically crying out of pleasure when you felt his mouth working on the swollen bud, tugging at it with his lips every time he closed his mouth around it.

You felt your legs shake a bit under the building tension but you didn't budge. A faint voice inside you reminded you to relax, to focus on his mouth kissing your cunt, his tongue swirling around your clit and trailing down to drink you in with a moan.

His hands slid underneath your body and cupped your ass, pushing you up to his face, essentially burying his face between your legs. Joshua's mouth flatly pressed on your cunt as if he were thirsty, ravaging you and humming as he did it.

Then his tongue pressed on your clit, his lips encircling it whole as his cheeks hollowed out, sucking on the throbbing bud. You arched your back, crying out loudly at the feeling of being so close to your release.

"I'm close, so close, Joshua," you whimpered, eliciting a groan from him.

You looked down where his head was nuzzled between your legs and the sight was so fucking good that something in your brain shifted. His dark eyes found yours, and you completely came undone.

The tension in your body snapped, sending waves of pleasure, making your limbs grow numb. You called out his name weakly, your eyes screwing shut at the mercy of the waves seizing your body, making you twitch and gasp in short breaths.

Joshua was moaning just from making you cum. And that could probably send you to the edge again if it wasn't for the new feeling of one of his fingers inside you.

You blinked, feeling dazed and you found Joshua on his knees, his finger plunging in and out of your sopping walls, massaging them gently.

"You liked that, baby?" he asked at the same time he slipped another finger in.

"Yeah," you whimpered. "I've been wanting this for days."

His pierced eyebrow arched up.  "This would have happened sooner if you knocked on my door," he smiled fondly. "But I like that about you—too shy to go knock on my door, but not to ask me to fuck you senseless."

You whined at the same moment his fingers crooked inside you, exploring, looking for your g-spot with the tips of his fingers.

"You like it when I talk to you, right? Your pussy squeezes my fingers whenever I do," he mentioned with a grin.

As if to prove his point, your walls fluttered around his fingers and he chuckled.

"Oh, princess. You're perfect," he muttered gruffly, leaning his body to plant a chaste kiss on your lips.

"God, Joshua," you whimpered, the tension between your legs building up again.

"You wanna cum again, baby?" he asked, grazing your lower lip with his teeth before kissing you chastely.

"Yes. So bad," you groaned, wiggling your hips to get more from his fingers.

"Can you cum on my fingers? Or do you want my mouth too?" he asked, his fingers teasing your cunt, making you feel the drag of his knuckles inside you as he pulled his fingers out and in, making squelching sounds every time he moved his hand inside you.

"Yes, please! I want your mouth too," you whimpered desperately.

His smile was the last thing you saw before he lowered himself between your legs and immediately attached his mouth to your clit. Joshua continued fucking you with his fingers, crooking them to find your g-spot.

"Joshua!" you cried out, your body twitching uncontrollably in your bed. "I'm gonna come, I'm ah-"

Now with his mouth and fingers, the pleasure in your pussy was so much more intense, practically tearing your orgasm out of you as you cried out.

Ragged breaths came out from your mouth, blinking tears weakly as your orgasm sizzled under your skin. Joshua's fingers stopped when he felt your walls relax and slipped out of your sopping core, making you shudder at the emptiness.

Then you were being showered with kisses on your face. You laughed meekly as his lips pressed on yours.

"You're being spoiled, princess," he teased. "Was planning on waiting to make you come until tonight but you're so greedy."

"Mm'm sorry," you muttered weakly.

"Sorry for what?" he asked.

"Dunno," you giggled.

"Are you fucked out already, bunny?" he smiled sweetly at you. "But I haven't even given you my cock yet."

You whimpered and reached for his lips, kissing him sloppily. A moan coiled in your chest when you tasted yourself on his tongue and lips.

Joshua stopped and looked at you with a pleased smile on his face, and a finger caressed your flushed cheek fondly, only to dip his head to kiss you again.

"God. You're so pretty, so fucking hard to resist," he grunted in your lips.

You whined and your hands cupped his face to slot your lips in his. "Please don't," you whispered, your lips grazing with his. "I want more, Joshua. I want you."

His eyes lingered on yours and you could almost see when it clicked in his mind.

"You want me to fuck you raw," he asked with a low tone.

A shiver ran down your spine when you heard his words.

You nodded, biting your lip so Joshua wouldn't notice that you were practically salivating at the thought.

The corner of his lips twitched. "You already came twice."

"But I want you, Joshua. I want to feel you inside me," you whispered, still writhing from your high.

The glint in his darkened eyes made you think that he enjoyed this. Whatever this was: your sanity slipping away at the mercy of Joshua pleasuring you, doing everything you needed from him.

"I can't fuck you raw, bunny," he muttered, pressing his lips sweetly on yours as you whined in his mouth. "It's too dangerous."

You understood that you were clawing at a limit of his, so you backed down. "Okay," you whispered.

"Good girl," he said as his lips captured yours in a heated kiss.

He slumped his body next to you on your bedsheets, resting his head on his hand as the other started caressing your skin affectionately.

"Joshua?" you called. 

"Mm?" he hummed as he appeared to be deep in thought, tracing invisible circles around your belly button.

"Can I-" you sighed when the tip of his pointer finger traced back to one of your nipples.

"Yes?" he asked, smiling when your nipple hardened and then he did the same with your other nipple.

"Can I touch you?" you whispered.

"You don't have to ask," he muttered with a small smile.

The pleased smile that spread on your lips made him chuckle.

You eagerly grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and Joshua understood immediately, sitting up on the bed and took his t-shirt off in one swift motion.

You sat up on your bed sheets—thus realizing that Joshua wasn't exaggerating when he said you were wetting the bed. You ignored the wet stain on your sheets and hooked the waistband of his sweatpants on your fingers.

"Do you want me naked, sweetheart?" he asked, noticing your struggle to undress him.

"Yeah," you breathed, looking at him expectantly.

He climbed down the bed to pull down the sweatpants, he did it efficiently, without making it a show for you but he still looked really attractive while doing so; his strong thighs stepping out of his sweat pants to reveal his hardened length still inside his underwear.

Suddenly you had other plans. You followed him, standing in front of him as he tilted his head to the side. Your fingers tugged at the band of his black underwear, taking it off of him to reveal his fully hard cock.

Then you lowered yourself to your knees.

"I wanna suck you off," you explained shyly, feeling your core pulsate to the mere act of you being on your knees for him.

His fingers grazed your chin. "Have you done this before?" he asked with a low tone.

You shook your head silently, eyeing him and his cock in front of you. Your hands caressed his strong thighs, trailing up to his hips. You realized then that you didn't touch him like this the other night.

One of your hands grabbed his cock at the base, stroking the soft skin of the length to his wet reddened cockhead. It was large and thick, and it leaned to the side a bit. You rubbed your thumb on the slit, feeling his precum leak on the pad of your thumb.

You glanced up at his dark eyes as you took the wet thumb to your mouth, licking his precum.

His breath hitched noticeably.

"I'll tell you what to do," he nodded, then he cupped your cheek, a serious look on his face. "You can stop if you don't like any of it, m'kay?" he muttered.

You wet your lips and nodded. "Okay," you whispered.

"Open your mouth," he instructed gently. You parted your lips and took the bulbous head of his cock and hesitantly placed it in your tongue.

His cock was too big for you to take him deeper, but you experimentally, and almost instinctively, relaxed your tongue under the weight of his heavy cock, wrapping your mouth around the half of the length.

"Breathe through your nose and move your head forward," he muttered and you did so, pushing your mouth on the length of his cock.

"Then back. You don't have to take me all," he instructed, his hands pushing your hair back from your face, caressing your face with his thumbs in the process. 

Whatever he instructed, you carried out without a second thought.

"Good girl," he whispered. 

Hearing him like this only pushed you to focus, despite the throbbing ache between your legs demanding for equal attention.

You discovered then that you liked the act of you taking his cock in your mouth on your knees for him. The walls of your core fluttered and you knew you were getting wetter as you started bobbing your head back and forth just like he instructed.

"That's it, baby. Just glide your pretty mouth on my cock. Fuck, it feels so good, so fucking good," he groaned.

Slurping sounds came from your lips around his thick cock as you picked up your pace. You darted a look up.

When your eyes met, the corner of his mouth curved up. "You look so good with my cock stuffed in your pretty mouth like this," he muttered, his thumb caressing your cheek.

A whimper coiled in your throat that otherwise would have escaped your lips if his cock wasn't stuffed so deep in your mouth. His cockhead was almost gagging you, hitting the back of your mouth every time you tried to push him further.

Drool trailed from the corners of your mouth. You wiped a side with the back of your hand but Joshua quickly stopped you in the middle of it.

"Don't. I like the way it looks," he mumbled, taking your hand to grab at his thigh again.

That made you take mental notes of everything he liked, every reaction you earned you kept in the back of your head. You wanted to pleasure him as best as you could, you made it your goal to earn more pretty sounds and moans.

He shuddered. "Fuuuuck," he groaned faintly again, his voice raspy and guttural.

You glanced up back at him, an idea popping in your head—you liked it when he sucked on your clit, so maybe he would like it if you suck on him too. Your cheeks hollowed, sucking him as you pulled your head back and then pushing your head forward, taking on more of his cock in with each bob of your head.

His head was thrown back, so you couldn't see much of his face. But his throat bobbed when he swallowed and you hollowed out your cheeks for him to moan deliciously. 

"Fuck—shit," he hissed. "If you keep doing that I'll cum in your mouth," he groaned and his hands tightened on your scalp, attempting to pull out.

But you dug your fingers on his thigh, pulling him back as you did it again, bobbing your head faster and hollowing your cheeks harder.

"Is that what you want, baby?" he asked, a large hand cupping the side of your face, thumb tapping you gently to make you look up at him.

You saw the muscles of his jaw twitch when all you did as a response was blink at him twice, nodding your head ever so slightly without detaching your mouth from his throbbing cock.

"Taking my cum the first time you give head—fuck, you're so, so perfect," he sighed weakly.

His fingers clenched on your hair and you knew he was really close because he was breathing out heavily, broken groans. 

"I'll tell you when it happens. Remember to breathe through your nose," he reminded you gently.

You continued moving your head forward, so far that the tip of your nose almost felt his pubic hair, his cockhead bumping the back of your throat, making it hurt a bit. And then sucking on the length moving your head back, breathing in deeply.

Your eyes darted upwards, finding Joshua's face riddled in lust. He groaned, furrowing his brow a bit as his eyelids were fluttering shut and his mouth parted a bit.

"Cumming," he breathed. 

Then he started making the most raw sounds you've heard him utter yet. His moans sounded sweet and raspy, almost as if he were about to start whimpering; all music to your ears. The hand on your hair clenched, hard. Joshua shuddered and with a louder groan his cum was shooting in the back of your mouth.

You moaned with him and stopped moving your head to breathe through your nose, swallowing quickly as ropes of cum filled your throat. It was slightly salty, warm and it was so much of it.

A fiery rush ran down your spine. You enjoyed giving him head and having him cum in your mouth. You loved the reaction he had, the lewd sounds he made, because of you.  

He was breathing heavily—not the way he did when he fucked you into your bed the other night, that was out of exhaustion. This was different, he was heaving, looking like he was elated.

"That was amazing," he sighed heavily once again.

A shudder shook him hard when you sucked on his cock again before pulling it out from your mouth.

"Woah, don't do that," he giggled softly. "Tickles."

You smiled sweetly. "Was it good?"

He bent down to help you up, cupping your face in his large hands to pull you into a heated kiss, you moaned in his mouth as his tongue lapped on yours, probably tasting himself on your tongue.

"The best fucking head I've ever had," he muttered gruffly on your lips.

You laughed.

"I mean it," he nodded, pressing his forehead on yours.

Then Joshua bent down a little and lifted your body up, eliciting a small yelp from you. You quickly grabbed him by the shoulders, wrapping your legs around him.

He gently placed you on your bed and pressed his lips against yours.

"You did really well, baby," he muttered before capturing your lips with his, kissing you softly.

A strange feeling of fulfillment swelled in your chest.

Joshua leaned his head against your chest, seemingly still coming down from his high because when he lifted his head ever so slightly to meet your eyes, he smiled lazily at you.

You returned the smile. Your hand found the nape of his neck and started drawing invisible figures on his bare back. A sigh coming from his lips brushed your skin, making you shiver.

You could get used to this, you said to yourself.

"I have to go now," he muttered, pushing himself from your body. "But I'll come pick you up later, m'kay?"

"What should I wear?" you asked, suddenly feeling nervous at the prospect of going out with him.

"Whatever you want, bunny," he smiled. "You look good in anything... and with nothing at all, too."

A fluttering sensation invaded your chest. You laughed. "Ditto."

He laughed, bringing a hand up to push his dark hair back anxiously. Was he flustered?

He planted a kiss on your lips and stood up from your bed, dressing up quickly. Again, he didn't make a show of it, but you enjoyed watching him nonetheless.

When he noticed your lustful gaze practically eye-fucking him, he smiled. "Insatiable little thing," he muttered, bending down to give you one final chaste kiss. "I'll see you later, sweetheart."

When Joshua came around to knock on your door, it was eight o'clock.

His black hair was parted naturally in the middle and it looked slightly wet. He wore a white faux leather jacket, white t-shirt and black denim jeans and black boots.

"I'm not ready yet," you told him as soon as he crossed your apartment door.

"I can see that," he smiled, looking at you up and down, noticing the silk robe you were wearing.

"Shut up," you quipped.

Rushing back to your room, you quickly got dressed in the outfit you had decided to wear for the occasion, inferring from the style that you usually saw Joshua dressed in for his gigs. 

Facing the mirror, you thought it was a cute outfit, but nothing prepared you for what Joshua's reaction would be.

As soon as you stepped in front of him, his mouth parted slightly, but was quickly replaced by a smile. He took a step to you, grabbing your hand to pull it up and you understood that he wanted you to twirl for him.

"You're gorgeous," he muttered before grabbing your face with one hand to pull you in a hot kiss.

"Thank you," you smiled sheepishly.

"I brought you something," he muttered in between kisses.

"Oh?" you uttered, being showered by his warm lips.

"But you have to open it when we get back. I just wanted to leave it here before we go," he handed a small black box.

It didn't look like a present, it wasn't wrapped or adorned with anything. You wanted to open it as soon as you took it. It was big enough to cover both of the palms of your hands, and it was somewhat heavy for its size, too.

"What is it?" you asked, looking up to his big eyes.

"It's for later," he replied, you noticed a glint in his eyes.

"Oh," you uttered again, smiling. "What's the reason?"

"Consider it one of the many I plan to give you," he smiled playfully.

You cocked an eyebrow. "Should I worry about what's inside?" you joked.

"It's something I know you'll like," he tilted his head to the side. "Or I hope it does."

Your finger slid on the edge of the black box. You got a faint idea of what was kept inside but decided to listen to Joshua and wait for later.

"Let's go, princess. The boys are waiting for us," he said, taking your hand with his.

"Who?" you asked, swiftly putting the gift on the coffee table and grabbing your purse as you headed out of your apartment.

"My bandmates. You'll like them," he assured you, turning to see you. "They've been eager to meet you."

"You told them about me?" you asked in a high pitch tone.

You got in the elevator together and Joshua pressed the button downstairs.

"I told them I'm bringing you with me and they went crazy about it," he sighed, unlocking his phone to show you a myriad of texts from a Jihoon and a Vernon.

You read the oncoming texts, raging for mostly reactions and exacerbated questions about Joshua finally dating someone. But he quickly shut down those speculations from his bandmates at once by saying you were a friend.

Something else on the screen caught your attention.

"You have seven hundred unread messages? And why do they say you're finally dating someone, what do they mean by finally?" you asked, bewilderedly returning his phone in his hand.

"You are a fast reader," he frowned. "I don't like texting," he shrugged.

"And?" you prompted.

His lips quirked into a smile. "Wouldn't you like to know," he joked, then shrugged again. "I've been single for a while."

"Really?" you asked with a smile, cocking an eyebrow.

"You're in no position to tease me about it," he smiled too.

You brushed him off. "Why are you single?"

"I uh..." he frowned and looked to the floor, as if looking for an answer there, "I haven't found the right person, I guess."

A sudden pang of concern jabbed you in the chest. But you made no comment, just nodded.

"And you?"

"Mmph. Same, I guess."

He looked at you. "Are you looking for something in particular?"

You sighed, contemplating your answer. "Nothing specific. Just… someone who feels right, you know? Someone who matches."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I get it. Has to be the right match, or it just doesn't work."

"But it's not like I'm actively looking," you added, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, me neither," he replied, trying to match your tone, but the awkwardness lingered.

Feeling the change, he cleared his throat.

The elevator doors opened and you walked outside of the building toward a large van. Where two men were waiting for Joshua, as soon as they saw you walking at his side, they exchanged a not so discreet look.

Joshua scoffed. "These two," he muttered with a grin.

Joshua opened the front door for you and you got into the passenger seat, noticing on your way that the back of the van was packed with a full drum set and two large guitar cases, a mic stand and sound amplifiers.

"This is Vernon and Jihoon," Joshua introduced you to the two grinning men who looked at you expectantly.

You told them your name with a shy smile.

"Behave," Joshua sneered as he sat in the driver's seat next to you, eyeing at the two guys sitting on the seats behind.

"We haven't said anything!" Jihoon protested with a smug grin.

You wanted to laugh at the way that Jihoon and Vernon exchanged looks once again.

"So... where did you two guys meet?" Jihoon asked either you or Joshua.

You felt like the question was directed towards you. "We're neighbors," you put in flatly. But sensing that you were being shy, added: "I complained at him for being noisy."

"Complained?" he interjected. "More like berated me," he teased as he started the car.

"I did not berate you," you bit back with a smile.

He rolled his eyes. "Put your seatbelt on."

"You first," you mumbled, but you did as he told nonetheless.

Jihoon scoffed loudly, trying not to burst out laughing.

"That's cute," Vernon commented flatly.

"What is?" you asked, turning to see the man sitting directly behind you.

He shrugged.

"It's cute that you're acting like an old married couple," Jihoon translated for his fellow bandmate with a smile.

You laughed. "Joshua is just a tease."

You felt him shift and noticed that he gave you a look.

"Oh, Shua's a nightmare," Jihoon retorted.

"Shua?" you repeated, looking at Joshua and then at Jihoon.

"He has many nicknames, you know. Joshuji, Joshu, Joshie, but the girls prefer Shua," he teased.

"Girls?" you parroted.

"Joshua's fans," Vernon informed, looking at his phone aloofly.

"Instagram fans," Jihoon complemented.

"Mmmph," you hummed.

"He's garnered quite the following," Jihoon teased, enjoying how Joshua was practically seething at him through the rear mirror.

"I imagine. But he told me he doesn't," you quipped.

"What?! He doesn't shut up about it with us," he looked over at Vernon, who just nodded with his head.   

"I can find more drummers, you know," Joshua bit back, looking at Jihoon through the rear view mirror.

"Please," the drummer scoffed.

"So you guys have been in a band for long?" you asked, feeling a certain eagerness to know more about Joshua's life.

"Two years?" Jihoon inferred, looking at Vernon, who just nodded in silence.

"I haven't listened to your music yet," you realized out loud. "I'm excited."

Joshua smiled without tearing his eyes from the road.

You arrived at a place called The Spot. Which was a bar located a few minutes from your apartment building.

Joshua parked the large van in the small parking lot behind the bar for the boys to unload the equipment they brought.

"Come. I'll show you inside," he said, grabbing your hand to lead you inside the dark-neon lit interior.

The bar was a western rock bar with an 80s theme. It had old movie posters and red neon signs on the walls. A U-shaped bar top in the center of the space, a large red neon sign that spelled 'Heartbreaker' mounted on the wall. Next to the booths and tables was a small stage where Jihoon and Vernon were already the drum set mounted.

The bar was not that big, but it was already starting to pack with people.

You sat in the last stool at the bartop, the spot was facing the side of the stage.

Keeping your eyes trained on him. He was scanning his surroundings anxiously, as if he was looking for something but nothing in particular at the same time.

"You can order whatever you want. It's on me," he smiled, and nodded at the two guys behind the bartop.

He fixed his jacket and licked his lips, then noticed your gaze on him.

"Are you nervous?" you asked suddenly.

That drew his big eyes to yours. "Nervous?"

"Yeah, you're fidgety," you pointed.

"I'm not," he said sternly, eyeing you with a glint of annoyance.

You narrowed your eyes. "You are," you insisted. "Why? Is it because I'm here?"

You laughed when all Joshua did was roll his eyes.

"I'll deal with you later," he brushed off before turning away and helping the guys get everything installed.

A pretty girl came forward almost a second later with a notepad and wearing a big smile. "Can I get you anything?" she asked.

You thought about it for a second. "Can I get a virgin piña colada?" you asked, feeling like a kid again.

The girl smiled. "Of course, right away."

Seconds later, the tall man behind the counter handed you your virgin cocktail. It had a cherry on the rim and a small pineapple slice.

"Thanks."

The tall nodded. "Are you a friend of Joshua's?" he asked.

You nodded, looking at his name tag. Mingyu.

When Mingyu smiled, you saw that his pointed fangs adorned his smile in a cute manner.

"You are his friend too?" you asked.

"He's more my boss's friend," he nodded in the direction of a tall guy that was talking with Joshua.

"Does he come here often?" you decided to pry.

"Just every other Thursday," he shrugged.

"D'you have live shows every Thursday then?"

"Yep. We try at least," he said as he poured beer on a crystal jug and put it on the bartop. "We are planning on having stand up nights, but Wonwoo says it's not a good idea," he said, pointing at his partner.

Wonwoo looked up, his ears perking at the sound of his name. "What?" he asked, pushing the rim of his frames up his sharp nose.

"Nothing," Mingyu brushed off.

"Have you thought about having Ladies’ Night?" you inquired, seeing the groups of women fill in the booths around the stage. 

"Huh. Sure, why not," he said in a thoughtful tone. And he turned to his partner. "Hey, what do you think of Ladies’ Night instead of stand up nights?"

Wonwoo shrugged, eyeing you curiously. "Either sounds like more work for me," he smiled shyly at the taller man. "Don't tell Cheol I said that."

The groups of girls coming to the bar, you thought, were due to the fact that the bar was partly cheap and well-decorated. It seemed like a fun place for a mini photo session while getting a few drinks; as you noticed from the people posing in front of the red neon signs.

A second thought was that a large part of the mostly female clientele was because the three guys who ran the bar were good looking.

Mingyu was the sweet, friendly looking guy, tall and buff; he was hot and well aware of it. Wonwoo was the alluring, quiet looking guy, dressed in all black, but whenever he smiled, his nose would wrinkle, telling on his sweet side. And the guy who was talking with Joshua also looked really attractive: tall, with the poise of a commander. Pale blond hair and full lips.

Joshua noticed you looking his way and smiled at you, making your insides jolt in response.

It was almost funny. He'd throw just a glance at you and have your body reacting like crazy.

But you guessed that it was unavoidable.

The eyes on him weren't just yours, but half of the people sitting around the small stage looked at Joshua expectantly as he nodded to his blond friend once and took the strap of his electric guitar to put it around his shoulders.

He did a brief sound check, which consisted of strumming the chords a few times aimlessly. That dragged dozens of eyes to the stage.

The microphone was tapped twice by his finger, as the speakers that played regular music died down, the microphone catching the sound around it and you could hear Joshua clearing his throat briefly.

You noticed the energy change around you, the buzz of the crowd growing quiet and then hushed almost completely when Joshua took the microphone, a white pick trapped between his pointer and middle finger.

"Hi, we're Midnight Haze," Joshua said, "and we're going to be your entertainment for tonight. Enjoy," his lips rose into a smile.

Then he turned to the drummer and nodded. Jihoon moved to get into position on the stool he occupied, lifting the drumsticks in his hands. He tapped them together twice, and with a thunderous splash, the music began reverberating throughout the place.

Then the guitar chords pierced the air and their vibrations could be felt on the barstool you were sitting at. With his eyes fixed on his guitar, Joshua raised his head to place his mouth in alignment with the microphone on the stand.

Under the red glowing light, his face lit up almost ominously as he began to sing. The sweet voice reverberated in your chest due to your closeness to the speakers, but beneath that, you felt a surge of emotion invade your senses as his voice rose with passion, weaving the melodies.

Midnight Haze sounded heavy enough like when a tidal wave crashes, but light and fun enough to dance along. Guitar solos spiral into your ears, Joshua appeared to be enjoying himself while swaying with his guitar, igniting a blaze of raw energy.

You realized that you were not the only one who was awestruck. Definitely not groupies. But there were some girls ogling at him, which, you realized, was difficult to resist.

At least from what you could catch, they had their eyes glued to the lead singer, who was putting on quite a show: dancing with his guitar, swaying his head to the music and smiling at his bandmates in some unspoken exchange.

They played for an hour non-stop, ending with an upbeat song and then he thanked the crowd and said goodbye for himself and the rest of the band. As they stepped down from the stage, the audience applauded and so did you, but you couldn't help but feel that you were left wanting more.

After some minutes, the buzz of the crowd resumed as well as the music from the bar speakers. Joshua made his way to you, sweat on his forehead and his looking a mixture of exhilarated and tired. But he was grinning ear to ear.

"See? No one is throwing themselves at me," he told you. 

"Point taken, rockstar," you rolled your eyes. 

He smiled widely, making your heart lurch. "Did you like the show?"

"Yeah. It was way too short, though. I kinda want more," you smiled up at him, still feeling dazed and a bit deafened.

"Sometimes we play on bigger venues and for longer," he commented, nodding to the small stage that was being cleared up from the band's equipment.

"I'll definitely want to see that," you stated.

His big dark eyes found yours, the corner of his mouth lifted. "I'll help the boys and I'll come back for you," he said and booped the tip of your nose before turning to the stage and helping with the dismounting of the equipment.

You quietly observed him as he busied himself to help clean up the stage. He's so cool, you internally said abashedly. He laughed and joked around with Vernon and Jihoon, drawing the attention of the people around them.

He looked at you from across the room and sneaked a wink. Did he know you'd be staring at him? He waved goodbye to his friends and turned to you.

"Ready, princess?" he asked, looking curiously at your already finished drink. "You had piña coladas?"

"Virgin piña coladas," you emphasized, nodding.

"That reminds me of something," he noted, and went to pay the bill to then return to you. "Come on."

Joshua took your hand as he led you back to the parking lot and opened the door of the van for you.

"We have to talk about some rules," he pointed as he drove back home.

"Rules?" you looked at him. Fuck, he's hot even when he's driving.

He had one hand on the steering wheel, and the other was relaxed on the windowsill.

"Last night I told you I wouldn't do anything to you while you're drunk, remember?"

"I'm not drunk now," you interjected.

"But you told me you didn't care, right?"

"And I don't. You can do whatever you want with me," you blurted, feeling your cheeks grow hotter.

"I need to know when something is completely out of the question, princess," he told you softly, eyeing you again.

"Like what?" you asked.

"Can I fuck you while you sleep?" he asked, by the tone he used, you could tell he was just giving you an example.

You smirked. "Sounds like you wouldn't do that," you retorted.

"I'm not into that," he admitted.

"That's why you couldn't last night?" you decided to pry.

"You weren't sober. Under different circumstances, I might've considered it. But last night just didn't feel right," he explained, seemingly deep in thought.

"Noted," you smiled at the careful consideration he had over you.

"I think we need to establish a safeword," he said after some seconds.

You saw him toy with his lower lip as the other hand still gripped the steering wheel.

"And I use this safe word whenever I don't like something, right?"

There was a bit you knew about the use of safewords—you were a bit inexperienced, yes. But not completely out of the loop.

"If you want me to stop, you say it and I will," he nodded, as he parked the van in the parking lot. Swiftly unbuckling his seatbelt, he hopped out of the van and then hurried over to your door.

You were both on the elevator when you told him your safeword after some careful consideration.

"Got it," he nodded again, licking his lower lip in a thoughtful expression. "Any reason why that's your safeword?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," you quipped, a playful smile spreading on your lips.

He chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You've been really bratty today, princess," he pointed.

"Oh, please," you pushed his shoulder playfully. "It's just a bit of teasing, can't you handle it, Shua? What are you going to do?"

The doors opened with a soft ding.

"Alright," he scoffed, and with a sudden movement, he bent down to throw you over his shoulder as if it was nothing.

"Joshua! Put me down!" you squealed.

You heard him laugh as he walked with you secured over his shoulder and stopped in what you guessed was your apartment.

He entered the combination to your smart-lock and pushed the door open.

"Now princess, where did you put the box I gave you?" he asked as soon as the door closed behind him.

"Coffee table," you mumbled, starting to feel dizzy.

Joshua didn't put you down as he took the box from the coffee table by crouching down slightly to reach it. Your limbs and head dangled helplessly, blood rushed to your head but as he moved to your bedroom, he set your backside on the bed, setting you down finally.

"Open it," he encouraged, and started to take off his jacket.

"I think I know what I'm gonna find here," you muttered, recovering with a sigh.

"Oh, do you?" he looked up at you while you took the lid of the box off.

The box contained two things, one of which confirmed that your suspicions were right—rope. Tightly coiled and bundled, it was black and new, by the smell of it. It was also soft, when you gently reached out a finger to touch it.

Next to the rope, a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs.

"I got two options for you to choose for tonight," Joshua explained and you found his big eyes scrutinizing you.

Instinctively, you grabbed the rope, since it seemed more alluring to you at that moment.

Joshua smiled knowingly, taking the rope from your hands. "Alright, princess. Rope it is," he nodded.

"But I liked the handcuffs too," you blurted.

"Patience, bunny. We'll have plenty more nights," he stated, making your insides jolt with eagerness.

"M'kay," you mumbled, looking at him anxiously.

In reality, you didn't have 'plenty more nights' as he said, since your deal with him was to be fuck buddies until you finished your manuscript. Which you have been dreading to finish.

He noticed your restive eyes on him and dipped his head to slot his lips in yours, giving you a reassuring kiss.  

"Take off your clothes for me, sweetheart," he instructed gently before pressing his lips with yours.

Your breath hitched so embarrassingly you had to bite down your lower lip. You liked the way he told you what to do, you liked that he took control. So you did what he told you to do.

As your clothes came off, Joshua busied himself preparing the rope for you. But his eyes remained fixed on you as you made a show to take off your clothes for him.

He sat at the foot of the bed—watching you with a sweet smile that didn't fully show his teeth. Your heart fluttered uneasily when his gaze darkened slowly when you got to your see through the mesh red lingerie he asked you to wear.

You unclasped your bra and sheepishly moved it from your chest, throwing it to the floor to then tug at the hem of your thong. 

"Leave that on," he stopped you before you could get to the last piece of your undergarments. 

The rope came undone on his hands, it was longer than you expected. Watching his hand twist the rope in an organized fashion, using his elbow as an anchor while his other hand grasped the other end of the knot.

"You've done this before," you pointed.

"Or," he countered with a grin, "I just know how to tie rope."

You squinted, catching the obvious white lie. "How many times have you done this?" you pressed.

"I don't think you really want to hear the answer to that, princess," he quipped.

Fair.

"Mmph," you hummed.

He sighed and looked at you, almost fully naked under the dim lights of your bedroom. "Yes, sweetheart. I've done this before. Don't worry," he nodded to the bed.

You understood and climbed your bed, moving your body to the middle and lying down on your pillows. Joshua followed you on his knees before you.

He extended the rope out for you, organized in two holes for you to fit your hands inside. You anxiously stuck your hands on each hole, at the same time Joshua slid the knot, tucking it closer to your wrists.

"Is it too tight?" he asked, and you could tell he was excited already.

You shook your head, your eyes trained on Joshua as he bent to finish tying the rope on the rails of the headboard of your princess bed—thus pinning your arms above your head.

"Remember our safeword," he said softly before placing a tender kiss on your lips.

You repeated your safeword, and then you started to feel your body heat in anticipation.

"That's my good girl," he sighed, pressing his lips on yours. "You're good only when you're about to get fucked, right?"

You attempted to give him an answer but his tongue dragged on your lower lip, finding your tongue as he kissed you slowly, enjoying the taste of your lips with a soft hum.

"I'm always good," you replied meekly.

"Oh, sweetheart. If only that were true. You wouldn't be tied right now," he smirked and pulled away from your body.

Joshua jumped from the bed, and started getting rid of his clothes, except his underwear. He smiled when he noticed you looking at him and turned to open the first drawer where he knew now you kept your toys.

Your blood rushed to your cheeks, and involuntarily you moved your hands to no avail—your arms were completely restrained.

"Do you keep them charged, princess?" he asked while he rummaged through your clothes to find your toys on the bottom of the drawer, stored neatly inside a shoe box.

"Yeah," you breathed nervously.

"How often do you use them?" he asked.

"Um... last time I used them was... wh-when I had that dream about you," you stuttered.

"Did you cum, baby?" he asked, looking over to your body as he made his way back to you .

You nodded. "And while I was sleeping," you muttered sheepishly.

He cocked his pierced eyebrow. "Is that even possible?" he asked, climbing back to the bed with two of your toys.

"It was for me," you breathed.

"So you came... twice? From a little wet dream of me eating you out?" he asked, his eyes marveling at the sight of you tied to your bed.

You nodded.

He smiled, letting out a sigh. "My perfect little bunny. Who would've thought you'd be this needy," he leaned in, cupping the side of your face to press his lips on the tip of your nose, then to your lips.

The urge of touching his face too invaded you, your arms twitched, the tight knot of rope stopping you before you could even move any further.

It was almost funny—being aware of the impossibility of touching him but still aching to do so aroused you.

"Joshua... please," you gulped hard.

His laugh came as a surprise to you. "Begging already, princess?"

"I need you," you whimpered, looking at him through your eyelashes.

"But you are in no position to make demands, baby," he muttered and planted a chaste kiss on your lips which you returned eagerly, trying to sneak the tip of your tongue between his lips but he pulled back slightly with a smirk.

"But you said-"

"I know what I said," he interjected. "That was before you acted all bratty today, wasn't it, sweetheart?"

You let out a small whine and bit your lower lip.

"So maybe I won't fuck you tonight, how about that?" he asked, tilting his head to the side, his black bangs obscuring one eye.

"You wouldn't do that," you whined, writhing on your bed, the restraints stopping you before you could do anything at all.

"Careful there, princess. These might be soft but I bet you bruise easily, don't you?" he asked, tugging at the knot pinning your wrists.

"Joshua!" you squeaked.

"Yes?" he met your eyes, giving you an innocent look.

It was insane how controlled he looked, the way he looked at you as if you were his prey and he were just toying with you.

You fumbled for the words, but as his eyes bored into yours, you felt at a loss.

"Joshua, please," you whispered when his lips found your sweet spot between your ear and jawline, making you moan when his lips sucked softly.

"Keep begging all you want, baby," he muttered, and you just knew he was smiling.

His hands trailed down your body, roaming, caressing your breasts and playing with your nipples using his thumbs. You moaned helplessly and grinded your hips against the growing bulge of his dark underwear.

"Desperate little thing," he groaned, lowering his body to attach his mouth to one of your nipples, making you cry out loudly and try to reach for his black hair.

Since your head was propped up in your pillows, you had a fairly good view of him biting and sucking at your nipples, it wasn't hard, but just enough to make you squirm and whimper under him.

"You have the prettiest tits, baby," he muttered as he nibbled softly at one of your nipples. "Can I mark them?"

You nodded as his gaze found yours. "Yeah, p-please do," you urged.

The corner of his lips lifted before pressing his lips on the underside of your tits and sucked softly. You moaned softly, wanting to run your hand through his hair, but not being able to make you feel more uneasy.

"Oh, Joshua," you whimpered as he made a trail of angry red spots on your tits. It was a strange feeling, having his hot mouth sucking on the skin around your areolas.

"I like these," he muttered, toying with the hem of your thong. "I love that you remembered to wear them."

"How could I not?" you quipped, feeling a bit breathless at the sight of him slotting his head between your thighs, kissing your pulsing clit through the meshy fabric of your thong.

"You could be a sweet talker when you want to," he smiled before pressing his tongue flatly on your core, making you cry out.

He sucked gently at your clit for a moment and then pulled his tongue away, hooking his fingers on your thong to slide them down your legs.

You saw him purse his lips directly above your pussy, and spit fell from his mouth, coating your clit. The sight of it alone made you utter a ridiculous sound.

And just when you thought he was going to continue eating you out, he grabbed something he had hidden beside him on the bed, and you realized by the pinkish color on his hand what it was.

"D'you use this often, sweetheart?" he asked as he pressed on the button of your rose vibrator.

He gently parted your pussy lips with his fingers, making you whimper when he placed the sucking tip of the vibrator directly on your clit.

"I... sometimes," you answered as the toy sucked your clit in its mechanical, trained patterns.

"And what about this one, baby?" he asked softly, grabbing with his free hand a wavy glass dildo.

You groaned, feeling both aroused and embarrassed. If you had your hands free, you'd use them to cover your face.

"What's wrong, baby?" he giggled, seeing your reaction. "I saw your collection of toys. I have a rough idea of what you like, but I want you to tell me."

You rolled your eyes, deeply flustered.

"That's my favorite," you pointed with your nose to the clear dildo, adorned with a pink heart at the end. "But if I want to... do things quickly I use this," you pointed to the toy trying to swallow your clit.

"Oh, really?" he smirked and bent forward to plant a sweet kiss on your lips. "I love the idea of you fucking yourself with your toys, princess," he told you before he kissed one of your hot cheeks.

"You do?" you asked in a high pitch tone.

"Yeah," he breathed, and you just loved the way he said it. "My pretty needy bunny, bouncing on a fucking toy. Now, that's something I'd like to see."

You moaned in his lips. But he pulled away too soon, suddenly turning off the vibrator, making you groan at the loss of stimulation. Then he spit on the tip of the dildo, coating it completely with his drool.

Joshua had a grin on his face when you whined loudly at the sudden intrusion of the glass dildo, the bulbous tip pushing your walls open.

"I see why you like this," he muttered as he pushed further into the second wave. "It looks insane, baby. Your pretty pussy is swallowing it in," he whispered.

The dildo was only halfway in, but apparently that's what Joshua wanted because he started rocking it back and forth in your walls, at the same time he clicked the vibrator on again and attached it to your swollen clit, sucking and sending waves through your body.

You moaned and gasped. You had never had both toys on your cunt before, for obvious reasons.

But the vibrator was relentless and the combination of both was making you writhe and cry of pleasure, feeling really close to your release.

"Joshua!" you cried, writhing in your bed so desperately that the headboard of your bed rattled a bit. "Please, please, don't stop." 

"Are you going to come, princess?" he asked and you nodded your head frantically.

He pulled the toys away from your throbbing cunt in a second. You blinked and furrowed your brow at him. 

His lips were clashing on yours before you could utter a word. He moaned softly as he swiped your lower lip with his tongue.

"Remember how bratty you were today, bunny," he muttered gruffly. "I want you to think of it when I allow you to come."

"Joshua, please, just-" you moaned pathetically, trying to push your hips to the dildo still held directly in front of your sopping core.

"What, baby? What do you want?" he asked, his voice low and raspy.

"I want-" you gasped and gulped.

"Do you want me to keep fucking you with your toys? Or do you want my cock?"

The rope around your wrists tightened when you desperately tried to move your arms. "I want you, please Joshua" you whined.

He hummed, seeming to consider it. "Such a greedy girl," he muttered while he kissed you slowly with his wet lips. "Only behaves when she wants my cock."

The vibrator clicked on again under his thumb, attaching it to your clit again and thrusting the glass dildo on your fluttering walls. You contorted in your bed, trying to get the best out of the pleasure from the toys to sate your sopping core, biting down the inside of your cheek to stop the whimpers and sobs.

"I want to hear you," he said and you cried out instantly, feeling so close again to your release.

You screwed your eyes shut, propping your feet on the mattress to try and thrust your hips further on the dildo, trying to fuck yourself faster on it.

You arched your back just as you were about to have your much desired orgasm. But then Joshua set  the vibrator aside and from your clit.

"Please, please, please," you moaned over and over again. "Shua, please, I need you. Please, fuck me."

Then he pulled away from your body, with one swift movement he got rid of his underwear and slotted his body between your legs. He was sliding down a condom and before you could see what was happening properly, he was pushing his cock in your core with a loud groan.

You cried out in both pleasure and pain as he immediately started thrusting his big cock inside you, pushing your walls open for him.

"Fuck, baby. How are you still this fucking tight?" he groaned, his hands grabbing your hips as he pushed himself until he bottomed out and you could feel his full length inside you.

"Shua," you cried weakly.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" he asked, pushing into your walls slowly.

"'m fine," you whimpered, closing your eyes to savor the pleasure of finally having him inside you as best as you could. "I just- I love having you inside me."

He giggled sweetly. "You do?"

You nodded with your head. "I love it s-much," you mumbled. "It feels so good."

"You feel great too," he said in a strangled voice.

Then Joshua started thrusting faster and harder, making your body bounce on his cock and the headboard slam repeatedly on the wall. You closed your eyes and swallowed hard as Joshua quite practically fucked you into your bed loudly.

You moaned deliriously when you felt the vibrator attached to your clit again, crying out when it started sending pulsations relentlessly, just as Joshua's hips buckled slightly, and his thrusts became more precise and calculated, holding your hips down with one hand.

"F-fuck," you whimpered, your eyes welling up with tears as you could feel yourself weaken under so much pleasure. 

"Too much, baby?" he asked and you picked up on the hint of concern in his voice.

"'m fine, Shua," you replied in a hoarse voice, blinking your tears helplessly. "I'm-m fuck-"

"You're squirting, baby," he told you in a low tone of awe, his eyes trained on your cunt as he plunged his cock inside you, his hand still pressing the vibrator on your clit.

"But I'm not coming," you protested, lifting your head to see but his hand blocked your view.

"I know, sweetheart," he smirked. "Tell me when you're close."

A frustrated groan fell from your lips and threw your head back against the pillows, avoiding answering.

Joshua let out an amused sigh at your small tantrum and you looked at him—he looked mesmerized. His lascivious eyes trained on you, his lower lip trapped behind his teeth, his black bangs stuck against a light layer of sweat that covered his forehead. 

He was on his knees, sitting back on his heels, the muscles of his abdomen tightening with every thrust, your legs draped on his thighs, a hand grabbing your hips, holding you in place while the other kept the toy pressed on your swollen clit.

The sight alone made your walls flutter and clench around him. You wanted to grab him, to feel his skin. The rails to which you were tied to made a rattling noise when you tried to move your arms.

The pressure building inside you from the toy pressing your clit and his cock pushing inside you—you moaned and squirmed on your bed.

"Shua, 'm close, fuckfuckfuck 'm so close," you whimpered, blinking some tears helplessly.

"What did I tell you, princess?" he pushed his cock inside you in a more demanding way, as if trying to rip your orgasm from you.

"I'll be good, Shua, I'm sorry-," you breathed desperately. "Jus' le-let me cum, please?"

"You learn fast," he praised with a lazy smirk. "You can cum, baby," he nodded, his face riddled with lust.

A second later you were writhing, crying out his name, the rope tightening around your wrists as you came hard, back arching and walls spasming erratically around his cock.

"Joshua," you breathed as he rode your high with precise and calculated thrusts.

A faint thought appeared in your mind—you probably looked like a mess, tied to the rails of your bed, hickeys all over your tits, crying and babbling nonsense.

"Fuck, I can't—Shua," you moan an writhed, feeling your core ache and spasm helplessly under the overwhelming stimulation.

"Are you safewording, bunny?" he asked, again, there was that tone of concern.

You shook your head weakly on your pillows. "No—don't stop, I want you, oh Joshua—fuck, fuck!"

You tried to press your ass down on the bed, trying to create some distance from the painful sensation in your oversensitive clit. Joshua appeared to be reading on how your body reacted, and changed the mode of the vibrator to a more delicate one. 

You screwed your eyes shut, feeling like you could sink into a void from all the pleasure your body was feeling, it was almost breaking you. 

You heard a soft sigh. "My pretty bunny. Do you like being fucked silly?" he was smiling from the tone of his voice.

"Love it—love having your cock inside me s'much," you replied almost instantly in a slurry babble.

That made him laugh. "Can you give me another one then, sweetheart? Cum for me again."

You nodded, savoring your fourth orgasm of the day. Your fingers clenched the rope as a form of soothing your body from the waves of pleasure threatening to wash over you. 

"Shua," you whimpered.

"I know, baby," he groaned, blinking slowly as he threw his head back ever so slightly. "I know."

Something snapped inside you, making you close your eyes so tightly you saw colors and then a slew of cries and hoarse moans came out of your mouth until you were breathless and crying from the overwhelming pleasure, the tears running down your temples.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, and you knew from his face that he was cumming with you. His slightly parted mouth, eyelids fluttering, fingers digging at your hips.

The slamming noises from the headboard against the wall of your bedroom ceased, as Joshua threw the vibrator across the bed, his thrusts lazily coming to a stop with a last strangled moan.

You saw him bend his body forward to untie you in a swift tug of his fingers.

Then his hands were cupping your face, his lips slotting in yours, kissing you fervently.

"You're so good for me, bunny," he muttered in between kisses. "So, so good for me."

Your arms languidly wrapped around his neck as you returned his heated kiss. You moaned at the feeling of having his hot mouth on yours, savoring him.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" he asked after you didn't respond.

"Uh-huh," you replied weakly.

He pressed his chapped lips in a smile that made your heart jolt. Looking at you with a glint of endearment as his fingers gathered some tears that were gathered in the corners of your eyes.

"You sure?" he whispered, his eyebrows knitting together.

You nodded. "'m sure."

"D'you want me to stay?" he asked hesitantly.

"Please?"

He blinked slowly at you, a cute smile stretching his lips. "Of course," he nodded. "Let me take care of you then."

He planted a soft kiss on your forehead and left the bed against your small groan in protest. When he returned a moment later, he had discarded the condom and you could hear the faint noise from the shower running in the bathroom.

"Don't move. I'll carry you," he said as he slid his arms beneath your body, bringing you up to his chest effortlessly.

"Thanks," you mumbled, feeling yourself come back to your senses.

"Don't thank me, baby," he mumbled, glancing at your face with a cautious look.

He set you down on the floor and guided you to stand under the showerhead. The warm water worked its magic, reviving your muscles and senses back to life.

Joshua was looking at you with his curious eyes, as he usually did. But this time, he looked kind of worried.

"Was it too much?" he finally asked as he watched your body soak in the warm water. "You're really quiet."

A reassuring smile crept in your lips. "I'm fine, Joshua. You don't have to worry about me," you replied.

"But I do, let me worry," he said, taking one of your hands to examine your wrists, which were reddened.

Your heart jolted again. "I liked it, Shua. Otherwise I would've told you, right?" you mumbled sheepishly.

His big eyes met yours, and you could see his features relax. His hand released yours to find your nape and pull you into a tender kiss.

"Thank you for trusting me," he muttered, resting his forehead against yours.

It was deafening and alarming—your heart was strumming against your chest, fast; a flutter of nervousness in your tummy. Fuck, this can't be happening, you told yourself. But a part of you knew this was bound to happen.

You were falling in love. 

✮ a/n: first of all: can we pretend that vernon knows how to play the electric bass for the sake of this chapter pls (˘･_･˘)

thank you to everyone who showed love to part i and for the ones who waited for part 2 ty ty ty! i made this chapter extra juicy for those who waited tehe

what do you guys think Midnight Haze sound like? i thought of something like nothing but thieves or sam fender [especially this cover song] but do let me know your opinions! [links re-direct to youtube vids]

you can send an ask, chat with me, or drop your comments don't be shy (◠‿◠)

✮ READ PART 3 !! ✮

click here to join my taglist (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

toodles

[grace-williams-xo]

RAMBLING THOUGHTS AFTER FINISHING PART TWO. GONNA ADDRESS MY P1 THOUGHTS FIRST. SPOILER WARNING.

1 & 2: I think Debling could’ve worked in the second half, and I’m kinda sad Cressida didn’t get a happy ending. The Creloise fell of a CLIFF after ep 5 but I think it could still be saved

5: no cishet man has ever loved his wife more than Anthony Bridgerton I’m gonna be ill

6 & 12: kanthony’s absence was felt BAD in the finale, I think their reactions to LW were sorely needed. Also Jonny and Simone have both said they’ll be at every sibling’s wedding and stick around for years but they missed Francesca’s??? Also felt their absence too much then. They’re both booked and busy I think we’ll continue to only get a couple episodes a season from them

8: Francesca did get to thrive happy in pt 2 my baby I love her

9: I think they managed to disconnect the mondrich plot even further like 😭 once again, I don’t mind them their plot just feels very empty

10: Pen and Delacroix CONTINUE to be my fave duo I love them so freaking much and they can never get rid of it

13: Portia’s growth this season continued to be 10/10 I loved her and Penelope’s relationship it really showed what it’s like to be closely related to people you oppose and the process of needing to forgive and understand them for your own peace of mind

14: that was not how I was expecting Colin to find out about Whistledown

15: Marcus felt a little rushed in part two but I think I need to watch the whole season together to fully decide

17: this was indeed the longest 27 days of my life I got Covid day after it dropped lmfao

MY ~NEW~ THOUGHTS:

We finally got character development from Cressida and if they write her out I’ll be inconsolable (as will Jessica Madsen)

I hope they paid Golda Rosheuvel good for her feet exposure. Worth more than titties in this economy

I feel the need to tell everyone that £5000 in 1815 is in the realm of £500,000 today and we cannot brush over the fact Penelope has made herself the equivalent of a literal millionaire

Anthony has two moods ‘I’m obsessed with my wife’ ‘I want to win this game’ like it is comical how drastically different his facial expression is in the game of charades compared to pretty much every other scene

Anthony saying the marriage is perfect and not hard work and Kate being like BOY I will humble you,,,, doing the lord’s work I love her so much

At some points I felt like Francesca was fighting Anthony for ‘Violet’s least favourite child’ award lmao

John saying he’s off to look at the wainscotting was unfairly funny

Cressida in the red dress is even better than I imagined fuck even if she’s not gay then I am

Peneloise back together the universe is healing I love my babies all we need now is creloise lovers and peneloise friendship simultaneously I don’t like it being one or the other sue me

However much Brimsley is getting paid isn’t enough,,,, Hugh Sachs the man that you are

I adored Penelope’s wedding dress so much and as bitter as I am still about no kanthony wedding in s2, it felt kind of right somehow for Polin to be the first wedding we properly see in this show

Most of the costumes and makeup feel like they got worse,,,,, big ‘I hired a 14 year old’ energy. I don’t need historical accuracy but I would like a modicum of care and the costume/hair/makeup dept looking at a single historical reference from before 1850,,,, please

We all got the bi Benedict we’ve been asking for and I appreciate it, and recognise that he needed Tilley to explore that, but I still would’ve preferred if they first main queer experience was not a threesome

If they go straight into benophie in s4 (which idk, I’m so torn bc I feel like F, E and B all could work well next season) then I also feel like bi Benedict was just them throwing a bone for 5 mins but meant nothing

The CONTENTIOUS Michaela Stirling,,,,, I was undecided until I saw it but that was the definition of gay panic from Francesca and it worked so well I am so excited.

As your resident peerage expert, it is much easier for women to inherit titles in Scotland than England so I wonder (not that anyone on this show knows anything) if that was a reason they chose Francesca to be sapphic [general peerage info and female inheritance info if you care]

On the above, if they can canonically end racism with one marriage then they can end homophobia with one marriage as well

We all know Eloise was the easy and obvious choice to be the queer love story but part of me does kind of like them not taking the easy route, and them going something more unexpected, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want Creloise/Sapphic El like they had eight children let’s be honest

Finch’s sneeze and Phillips’s “now Varely! The bugs!” were unfairly funny

Everything Lady Danbury said to Penelope about suspecting her and what not felt very in character and you can fight with the wall idc

Did they tell us the name of Polin’s baby boy???

Hyacinth saying she thinks of Gregory as the family pet,,,,, girl you an icon walking amongst mere mortals

Predictions I got right:

Anthony didn’t kill Colin, but “are you gonna duel your own brother” lmao I was on the right track

I knew Polin would win the Featherington baby race and I love that for them (but why were Prudence and Phillipa pregnant most of the season, barely showing, Kate was showing almost immediately, and then in the epilogue the sisters all had baby’s similar-ish ages???? Give the writers room a calendar please)

I SAID FROM DAY DOT THAT THE FURNITURE THEY BROKE FROM SEX WAS A CHAISE I CANT FIND THE POST BUT I KNEW IT I FUCKING KNEW IT WHERE DO I COLLECT MY PRIZE SOME OF YOUR GUESSES WERE TRULY FUCKING COOKED

Okay that was too long if you made it this far I’ll make you cookie ily

[katyswrites]

don't call me 'baby'

PART 10 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, SMUT (18+), angst, mentions of pregnancy/a pregnancy scare, mentions of food and alcohol, unprotected p in v, daddy kink, oral sex (f receiving), creampie, ddlg dynamics, swearing, alcohol use, smoking, age gap, no use of y/n

Wordcount: 10.4K

A sugar daddy modern AU, a whirlwind summer romance in Italy, and two people from completely different walks of life, somehow finding each other in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But, what will happen when summer ends?

PART 10 | meet me in the afterglow

FOUR MONTHS LATER

Your walk to work was chilly enough to warrant a coat. That was perhaps the thing you missed least about home in the U.S. - even though the winters certainly got cold here, it was nowhere near the sub-zero temperatures you had grown up with during the coldest time of year. Maybe the only thing you missed was snow - in all of your time living here, you had only gotten a brief dusting once, and it had melted by the following day.

Still, a week out from Christmas, you now needed to wrap something warm around yourself as you walked down the street, heading closer to the city center as your shift was due to start. 

You were technically two minutes late to your shift, the coffee shop busy enough to have a line going out the door when you arrived. Yet, your manager Francesco said nothing - a small spark of joy in your day. 

You didn’t necessarily need to go back to work - Steve’s money had yet to run out. But, you felt good about earning your own money - and, the less you had to draw on his remaining funds, the less you had to think about him.

You hadn’t seen or spoken to Steve since the night of your argument. Well, that was only partially true - you had received one piece of communication from him. It came a few days later - you had been moping in your apartment, having barely left your room for days, when an envelope arrived. It had his familiar writing and wax seal, with another wad of cash and a letter made out to you:

I promise this is the last you’ll hear from me. I am a man of my word, so I promise to help provide for you until you’re finished with school. I’ll be transferring enough money to your account to cover all of your expenses, so no need to worry about your rent, food, anything of the sort… I really do want you to be able to focus on school, okay? So, please don’t protest, or try to send the money back. Please feel free to use the credit card if you need to. 

I’m sorry it ended this way. We both knew it was going to, but I apologize if I said anything out of line the other night. I truly do wish you the best. 

Take care,

Steve

Reading it had been a punch to the gut. The formality of it, the finality of it… you would’ve rather that you never heard from him again. You had stashed the letter in a box under your bed, and not looked at it since.

A few weeks after that, you had pregnancy scare. It was silly, really - but, your period was late, and if was the first conclusion your mind had jumped to. You had called Robin in a panic, begging her to come home - she did, with four different brands of pregnancy tests. Those 15 minutes of waiting for results were the most agonizing of your life - then, upon seeing them all negative, you fell to your knees and burst into tears.

“It’s okay,” Robin had cooed, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “You’re good it was a false alarm - you’re probably just late because of stress -”

“I know,” you sobbed. “I just -”

“What is it?”

You then had sat up, chest heaving as you sobbed.

“He’s really gone isn’t he?”

Robin held you in her arms that night as you cried yourself to sleep.

To your knowledge now, he had gone back to the U.S. - was he still in Chicago? Or, did he go back to New York? You realized it was better for you to not ask these questions, or to think of him at all. As the weeks had turned into months, you found yourself thinking of him a little less each day - but you still thought of him. You saw him in the passersby as you walked down the street, in every car window, in every businessman walking through the door to order a coffee. Sometimes, you’d hear a laugh, or get a brief whiff of cigarette smoke, and swear it was him. But it never was - it never would be again.

The days had dragged on, but luckily, you often found yourself too busy to dwell too much on thoughts of Steve. Between work and school, your plate was pretty full. With graduation in mere weeks, you had spent the entire term studying and working on your thesis. Steve’s remaining money, at least, allowed you to work far less hours than you had before - a small blessing, you supposed. 

The day was moving pretty quickly, the morning rush busy enough that two hours flew by without much notice. It was only during the afternoon lull that you found yourself able to look up from the espresso machine - only to lock eyes with a familiar face through the window.

Eddie smiled back at you, waving. You couldn’t help but grin, and beckoned him to come inside. He bounded through the glass doors, bursting into the coffee shop with the infectious, chaotic energy he always carries with him.

“Bella, how are you?” he asked, leaning over the counter with a big grin.

“I’m okay,” you said, shrugging.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Just okay?”

“Oh well - you know, a bit stressed with the end of term and all. But, that’ll all be over soon.”

“I’m almost done, too - just finishing up my exams, all of that nonsense.”

“Do you have someone for your thesis?”

You nodded. “Professor Hopper - he’s always had a soft spot for me,” you said, smiling fondly, thinking of the seemingly-gruff. 

“I have Clarke - I don’t actually know how much he knows about photography, he teaches chemistry for godsake, but apparently it’s a hobby or something, so he’ll sign off on whatever I do,” Eddie said, laughing.

“Oh! I forgot to tell you - I actually have my own studio space now.”

“What? Eddie, that’s amazing!”

He grinned. “Thanks - I mean, I’m still technically freelance, but I’m hoping once I’m fully graduated more work will start coming in. But for now, I don’t mind having some spare time to practice with the band.”

You did your best to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“Right - don’t forget me when you make it as a big rockstar, Eddie.”

He let out a hearty laugh at that, the infectious kind that had you joining in - you hadn’t laughed like that in quite some time.

“You know, you should come by later to check it out,” Eddie said. “I mean, if you want -”

You thought for a moment, then nodded.

“Sure, why not - I get off in about a half hour -”

“Perfect,” he cried, clapping his hands together. “I’ll just wait around then - and, uh, can I get an espresso? Since I’m already here and all.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting a smile.

“Yeah, sure thing Munson - I’ll take my sweet time with it, just for you.”

The end of your shift flew by, and soon enough you were pulling off your apron, linking your arm in Eddie’s as he led you out the door and through the city.

The studio, as it turned out, was only a few blocks away. The space was small, but nice - a big glass storefront allowed plenty of light in, even with the fading sun, indicative of the short days of winter. Some of Eddie’s work hung framed on the walls - city scenes, candids of people on the street, bands in action at his favorite club… and even a few of you, from the project you posed for a few years ago.

“Wow - this is amazing, Eddie!” you exclaimed, glancing around the studio with genuine pride for your friend. You knew this was always the goal for him, what he always wanted to do.

“Grazie mille,” he said, beaming. 

“Do you have anything lined up?”

He nodded.

“Some - nothing too interesting. A few weddings, graduation photoshoots, things like that. Oh, do you want to see the photo lab?”

You let him lead the way into the back room, passing through a dimly-lit room with machines and equipment that you were sure you had no idea how to use. Newly developed photos were hanging around on clothespins, or spread across the table in the middle.

“Back there is the darkroom,” Eddie said, gesturing to a small door on the other side of the room. “But yeah, this is where the magic happens.”

“You develop all your pictures this way?” you asked, examining a few laid across the table.

He shook his head. “Not exactly - only the stuff I shoot on film. A lot of what I do is digital, and I edit that on my computer but… I really do love shooting film. I only really do that for specific things. Oh, which reminds me!”

He turned his back to you, rummaging through a filing cabinet until he produced a large manila envelope, extending it to you. You furrowed your brow, confused. You turned it to examine it properly - the only thing written on it was your name and a date, in Eddie’s telltale scrawl.

“What -”

“It’s those pictures I owe you, from your birthday party - sorry, it took me a while to get around to developing them.”

Oh. 

“Oh,” you said quietly, gripping the envelope a bit tighter. “Uh, thanks - that was really nice of you, Eddie.”

You were still staring down at the parcel in your hands, your hands shaking a bit - you had completely forgotten that Eddie had been taking pictures all night. Most likely because you had been a bit distracted at the time. But now…

“I think they turned out pretty nice, if you ask me,” Eddie said. “But, you can be the judge of that yourself.”

You pressed your mouth into a tight line, nearly feigning a smile as you finally met his eyes again. He was looking back expectantly, and you realized he wanted you to look at them now. 

“Oh, yeah,” you mumbled. “I guess I’ll just -”

You opened it up, sliding out the stack of photos - they were slightly bigger than the ones you had seen from a digital camera, on a beautiful matte paper that you knew must have not been cheap. This, you realized, was Eddie’s belated birthday gift to you.

You thumbed through the pictures - the first few were just candids of your friends on the dancefloor, or deep in conversation around the bar. There were a few of you and Robin, arms thrown around each other and smiling ear-to-ear.

There were quite a few solo shots of you, raising a glass to the camera, mid-laugh, or dancing - somehow, he had made it look like you truly were the center of attention, as if to tell people this is who we were there for! 

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, laughing quietly at a few of the shots, including one of Robin flipping off the camera as she kisses Vickie. Then, your smile dropped, because there he was.

Steve, looking as handsome as you remembered, but somehow also a stranger, or like a figment of your imagination. Somehow, a small part of your subconscious had convinced you over the last few months that perhaps he wasn’t real, a true figment of your imagination that had been too good to be true. But there he was, large as life, his arm wrapped around you as you smiled into the camera. You were smiling in his arms, a girl completely unrecognizable in some ways. In another photo, he’s pressing a kiss to your cheek as you laugh - you remembered that one being taken, that’s for sure. You gently trailed your fingers across the picture, as if you were hoping to reach in and pull that happy girl out, just to shake a bit of sense into her. You didn’t even realize you were crying until a fat wet teardrop his the page, rolling down and off the edge.

“Whoa - are you alright?” Eddie asked, his voice tinged with worry.

You jumped, having nearly forgotten that he was there at all. How long had you been staring at the pictures of Steve? For a few minutes, or hours? There was no way to know.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you said, the thickness in your voice betraying you. You pressed the heels of your hands under your eyes, willing the gentle tears to stop, sniffling.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asked softly.

You laughed dryly, more hot tears welling up as you did.

“Nothing! I - they’re beautiful, Eddie. Really - thank you. You - you’ve really got a talent.”

Your voice wobbled a bit at the end, and you sniffled.

“I’m sorry, I - it’s nothing to do with you,” you assured him. “I just - I’ve been having a hard time lately.”

Eddie cocked his head, confused. Then, his eyes flitted down to the picture in your hands.

“Oh - I’m sorry, I - is this about him?” Eddie asked quietly, gesturing to the photos. You just nodded, avoiding his gaze again as you stuffed them back into the envelope.

“I didn’t know you two had broken up, I’m sorry -”

“We didn’t break up!” you snapped, harsher than intended. “Fuck, I - sorry, that came out wrong. We didn’t break up, because we were never exactly together. It’s just complicated.”

Eddie furrowed his brow. “Yeah, okay - well, I’m sorry to hear about your not-breakup. I guess I’m just a little surprised.”

“Why’s that?” you asked.

He shrugged. “I spent a long time looking at all of those when I was developing them - you know how they say pictures tell a thousand words?”

You nodded.

“Well - I take pictures of a lot of couples - weddings, engagement shoots, all of that… and I’ve never seen two people more in love than you two.”

You felt your chest tighten - maybe you were being a lovesick idiot at your party, but Steve?

You shook your head. “No - Eddie, it… it wasn’t like that. I can promise you that.”

Steve made that perfectly clear.

Eddie shrugged again. “I’m just telling you what I observed, that’s all.”

“Well maybe you should mind your business,” you grumbled.

Fuck. You shouldn’t have said that.

Eddie’s face fell a bit, and he slowly took a step back, hands shoved in his pockets.

“My apologies,” he whispered. He was hurt, that much was obvious. You mentally kicked yourself.

“No Eddie - I’m sorry, I didn’t -” 

You sighed, frustrated.

“Things have been, like, really weird the last few months and… it doesn’t matter.”

“I could tell,” he said, voice quiet. “You’ve been.. Distant.”

You nodded, the awkwardness filling the space between you two. You had fucked this up too, somehow.

“So,” you said, clearing your throat. “Uh, it’s getting late, and dark… I probably should head home.”

“Yeah, okay - good idea, I have some stuff to work on anyway.”

You both nodded, avoiding eye contact as you both headed out back into the studio.

It wasn’t until you were at the door that you turned to face Eddie again.

“The place really is beautiful… I’m proud of you,” you said sincerely. He offered a small smile in return.

“Thanks.”

“I also - the pictures are beautiful. Thank you for these, I - they’re great.”

“I’m sorry if they -”

“Don’t apologize,” you said firmly. “They’re great - you’ve really got a gift, you know.”

You could tell Eddie was fighting a real smile, a small win in your book.

“C’mon, you know my ego’s just fine on its own.”

You laughed, and without thinking, pulled him into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry I lost it a little earlier,” you whispered.

“It’s alright,” he said, pulling away. “Heartbreak is funny like that.”

You decided not to bother protesting his assessment this time, too tired to start a fight again just to feel something.

“Right, okay.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take out the photos with… him?” Eddie asked, gesturing down to the envelope.

“No, that’s alright - I’m a big girl, I can go through them. I’m definitely going to hang a few of these up though, so thanks again.”

“Take good care of yourself darling, alright? And come by any time - for any reason.”

It was an olive branch, an assurance that things were okay. You forced a smile, nodding.

“Thanks, Eddie - you’re a great friend, you know.”

You bid your farewells, and left the studio with a strange feeling settling within you. You pulled your coat a little tighter around you, stuffing the envelope underneath as you charged through the chilly evening air to the nearest bus stop.

You didn’t get home until nearly 6pm, the winter sky fully dark by then. By the time you walked a few blocks and up the stairs to your apartment, your face was stinging from the cold, the wind picking up more since that afternoon.

Robin was on the couch, a rerun of Friends playing on the TV.

“Hey! You’re back kind of late,” she remarked.

“Yeah - I ran into Eddie, funnily enough,” you replied, hoping you sounded nonchalant.

“Oh really? How is he? I miss him - we should really make a plan to hang out with him soon -”

“Yeah, for sure,” you said, kicking off your shoes and hanging your coat on the rack. “He’s good - I saw his new studio, it’s nice.”

“Oh, no way! That’s great - I need to go sometime -”

“Yeah, totally,” you said, absentminded. “Uh, I’ve got some stuff to do, but I’ll be out here later -”

“Maybe we can get takeout or something -”

“Yeah, perfect -” you tittered, closing your bedroom door behind you, eyes on the envelope in your hands.

You bit your lip, debating what to do. Part of you considered finding all of the pictures of Steve, and burning them. But, that felt a bit dramatic. You pulled out the stack again, sifting through until you found the shots of him. You couldn’t help but smile, looking at how happy the girl in the photos was - if only she knew how quickly things would fall apart that night. The photo of Steve kissing you cheek was your favorite - it was just full of pure, unbridled joy. The one after that was the one you stared at for quite some time, though. You were looking into the camera, grinning widely. Steve, however, wasn’t - no, he was looking at you. You stared at him for quite some time - and remembered Eddie’s words.

I’ve never seen two people more in love than you two.

You had thought it was crazy - but, in the picture, Steve was looking at you like you’d hung the stars. Like, if he didn’t have you, he’d be lost. He was looking at you with eyes full of love - you just hadn’t been looking.

You gasped, realizing what Eddie had seen that you couldn’t - maybe everything had meant more to Steve than he had let on. No, that was crazy - wasn’t it?

What happened next didn’t have much explanation - it was probably crazy. You found yourself Googling Steve’s company headquarters in Chicago - it couldn’t be this easy, could it? But it was.

A quick call through the directory brought you to his secretary, a bubbly woman who was more than happy to help. You pretended to be the secretary of a business partner you had remembered Steve mentioning, saying how you wanted to send a thank-you gift - it had been too easy to get his home address, really. And, a confirmation that he was back in Chicago.

The next morning, you sent out an envelope, sticking on international postage. You debated not putting your name on the return address, but ultimately decided to include it - he’d recognize the address anyway. When you dropped it at the post office, you walked away feeling a sense of relief - and, perhaps, just a bit unhinged. TIme would tell if anything came of it. But, at the very least, it felt like finally closing the chapter of your life that had been defined by Steve Harrington. And, that was a good thing… right?

********

The day before Christmas Eve, you received great news: confirmation that you had passed all of your exams, your thesis receiving glowing feedback from the professors in your department. Your degree, which studied Art History and Travel and Tourism Management, meant that you would actually be able to stay here - you hoped to work in tourism in some way right here in Rome, or perhaps work in one of the city’s many museums - being bilingual would help, and more importantly, it meant you never had to set foot back in the United States again, if you didn’t want.

Christmas brought its usual cheer and celebration, complete with mulled wine and a potluck dinner you and Robin held for some of the other foreign students you were friendly with, knowing they didn’t have families to go to for the holidays. Your graduation only brought extra festivities, including a speech prepared by Robin given as a toast at dinner, saying how proud she was of you (and, how jealous she was that you didn’t have to worry about schoolwork anymore). It was silly yet sincere enough to make you tear up and pull her into a big hug. Eddie and Jonathan even swung by for a bit, joining in on the celebration until the wee hours of the morning. Robin and Vickie were all over each otherYou ate and drank to your heart’s content before stumbling to bed, leaving cleanup in the kitchen for the morning.

The morning of Boxing Day, it turned out, was actually the afternoon, with you and Robin oversleeping. You, to your own relief, felt tired, but not too hungover - the same couldn’t be said for Robin and Vickie, who stumbled into the kitchen with grimaces on their faces and grumbles as a greeting.

You spent most of the day cleaning up from the last two days’ festivities, washing dishes and clearing away wrapping paper, wiping countertops and vacuuming just enough until your home felt semi-in order. 

You were still in your pajamas as it was getting dark again in the evening, a rarity these days. When Robin said she was heading out to dinner with Vickie and likely would be staying at her place that night, you bid her farewell, looking forward to some time alone to fully relax and unwind. 

It was several hours later, after scrounging together a dinner of Christmas leftovers and half-dozing on the couch while a movie played, that your doorbell rang. You sat up with a start, your heart jumping at the unexpected intrusion. You stumbled to the door, grumbling about who could possibly be here at this hour - maybe Robin decided to come back after all, and got locked out again? You were ready to playfully ridicule her when you opened the door. But when you saw who was standing on the other side, you froze.

Steve Harrington was there on your doorstep, barely illuminated in the dim light. His chest was heaving, his hair just a bit disheveled. His eyes widened when he saw you, and you imagined you did the same. Your heart plummeted to your stomach at the sight of him, so real and alive in front of you. Were you dreaming? Was this some sick prank?

Neither of you said anything for a moment, two mouths hanging open, searching for the words.

“It’s Christmas,” you blurted out, the first words you’ve said to him in over four months.

“It’s December 26th,” he replied, simply and casually.

“I - well, it’s still a holiday, kind of.”

“Yeah, I know - do you know how hard it is to catch a last-minute flight on Christmas?”

You just stood there in the doorway, unable to think of anything else to say - what the fuck?

“What are you doing here?” you asked, words biting. You were lashing out a bit, but you didn’t care - this moment right now reminded you of a similar one over the summer, when he came to your doorstep to explain how he wasn’t engaged. What was his excuse now?

“Why did you send me this?” he asked, holding up a familiar envelope - the photo.

Why did you? You weren’t certain of that answer yourself. So, you went with the first explanation that came to your head.

“It’s a good picture of you,” you said quietly.

He rolled his eyes.

“Do not - I don’t hear from you for months, then I get this in the mail - on Christmas Eve, mind you -”

“I’m sorry, were you supposed to hear from me?”

“I don’t know!” he cried. “Maybe?”

You scoffed. “You can’t be serious - you made it very clear that you never wanted to see me again.”

“I - what?”

“I wish you well? Take care? We ended things, Steve - what else was I meant to think?”

He sighed, his shoulders sagging.

“I don’t know. I guess part of me - it doesn’t matter. But, what am I supposed to make of this?” he asks, waving the envelope.

“I - Eddie gave me a bunch of pictures he took at my birthday party… I thought maybe you’d want that one.”

He took a tentative step closer towards you, gauging your reaction. You held your ground, not breaking eye contact.

“Is that the only reason?” he asked, voice low.

You felt your heartbeat quicken, your palms clammy - he really was just so handsome. Still, there was something so boyish about him, something that reminded you of why you fell for him in the first place. He had cut his hair a bit, his summer tan faded - and he looked tired. Then again, you probably did too - you suddenly became conscious of the fact that you were in your pajamas, still looking like you had just woken up - you wished you could disappear, never to be perceived again.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “The only reason.”

He was close enough now that you could see his Adam’s Apple bob as he gulped, his eyes glancing up and down your form as he took a deep breath.

“Tell me that, when you sent this, there wasn’t at least a small part of you that hoped I’d respond - that, when you sent this, you hoped I’d call, or show up here. If there wasn’t, I’ll walk away right now, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

There it was - everything laid out on the table. So much was still unsaid - but, it was obvious that he also had been hurting the last few months, that he didn’t want this to end, maybe even nearly as much as you did. 

“You really flew all the way here because I sent you a photo?” you whispered.

He nodded. “Of course I did.”

“You realize how crazy that is, right?”

He chuckled dryly.

“Well, they do say it makes you do crazy things.”

“...it?” you asked, voice wavering.

He nodded.

Oh.

“Come inside,” you murmured. “It’s pretty cold out there.”

As soon as the door was shut behind him, he began spiraling into a new explanation.

“I hope you know that I didn’t come here just to - you’re right, it is kind of crazy, but I didn’t know what else to do, after everything that happened -”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” you said, cutting him off. “I don’t want to talk at all.”

You both stood there for a moment, eyes locked on eachother. Then, as if reading each other’s minds, you both moved at once - you crashed your lips into his, fast and desperate. He sighed against your lips, pulling you close as his tongue slipped into your mouth. 

You felt like crying - you had missed him so much, more than you had realized - his voice, his warmth, his scent - it brought everything flooding back, the feelings you had buried in an attempt at self-preservation. But now, as you kissed him, you felt the tears well up, stinging your eyes as they rolled down your face, hot and fast.

“Whoa - baby, it’s okay - what’s wrong -”

Baby. 

“Nothing,” you cried, wiping the tears away. “I just - I really fucking missed you.”

You felt stupid to admit it, but then again, didn’t he come close to confessing that himself just a few moments ago?

“I know, I know, baby - you have no fuckin’ idea -”

Another kiss, passionate and apologetic.

“I didn’t mean any of what I said that night,” you gasped, pulling him closer. “I was just so scared -”

“I know, me too, baby - m’sorry -”

Baby. Babybabybaby.

He was holding your face between his hands now, backing you up until you were pressed against the wall, his lips finding yours again. He titled his head down to nuzzle at your throat, pressing his lips to the sensitive skin there. You tipped your head back, giving him full access to do as he pleased. He kissed and nipped at your neck, until you were moaning and crying out his name, pulling at his coat until it fell off of his shoulders. You twisted your hands in his button-down, his hands squeezing tighter on your waist in response.

“Fuck, Steve,” you breathed. “I’m sorry -”

“Stop with that,” he said, firmly taking your face in his hands again, catching your lips in another gentle kiss. “You’re right, I just realy don’t want to talk anymore -”

Then he was kissing you again, swallowing your noises as you whined his name, fingers gripping his hair.

“Bedroom, now,” you told him. “Please -”

“Yeah, okay.”

He couldn’t keep his hands off of you, both of you stumbling down the small hallway and into your bedroom, Steve slamming the door closed behind him with his foot.

“No Robin?” he asked, lips finding your neck again.

“No - ah! She’s at Vickie’s tonight -”

“Thank Christ,” he growled. “I don’t know how quiet I’m capable of being right now.”

He was apparently as desperate as you were, lips finding yours hungrily as he pulled your oversized t-shirt over your head, eyes practically rolling to the back of his head when he saw your breasts.

“No bra?” he asked.

“I was lounging around, until you showed up -”

“Thank god,” he practically snarled, his hands finding the small of your back to pull you close.

You reached between yourselves, unbuttoning his shirt, fingers slipping as they shook with anticipation. He reached down to help you, until he eventually shrugged the shirt off. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your bare chest to his, nearly crying again from the contact.

“I really missed you,” he whispered, a man ruined. “I never thought I’d be able to have you like this again -”

“None of that,” you murmured, pressing a finger to his lips. “It’s alright.”

You just stared at him, running your hands down his chest as you took a deep breath.

“I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” he asked, face flickering with concern. “Oh god, are - are you seeing someone else? I didn’t even ask -”

“No! No, nothing like that,” you assured, biting your lip. “I just - do you remember the night of my birthday on our trip, on the rooftop?”

He nodded. “That was a really nice night.”

“I haven’t been totally honest with you,” you admitted, heart racing as you were ready to lay out the thing you had been terrified to admit aloud.

“About what?” he asked softly, cupping your cheek gently with his palm.

“Remember when I said something in Italian, and you asked what it meant? And I just said it meant I loved the gift, the star thing?”

He nodded. You took a deep, shuddering breath.

“That wasn’t exactly true. I - I said that I was in love with you,” you managed, voice quivering at the end. “That’s why I was so scared - I didn’t realize until I said it… I had broken our rule, our number one rule -”

“Hey, hey -” he cooed, shaking his head. “Did you mean it?”

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah - I still do.”

The few seconds that passed after that had your stomach doing somersaults - what if he still didn’t feel that way, and everything he had said in the doorway was bullshit? You thought you were going to be sick -

But his face softened, his eyes glistening - was he going to cry?

“Fuck the rules. I stopped following those a long time ago,” he said.

Your heart fluttered, your face heating.

“Are you saying -”

“How did you say it in Italian again?” he asked. “I’m sorry, I’ve been slacking on my lessons without you around.”

You laughed. “Oh, um, it’s sono innamorato di te. It translates directly as I’m in love with you, or I’m falling for you.”

He nodded. “Well then - sono innamorato di te.”

You felt like your chest was about to explode, and before you knew it, you were crying again. He was too, you realized, his cheeks glistening with tears as he choked a sob with laughter.

“We could’ve saved ourselves a lot of trouble if we both just said that in the first place,” he said, reaching to wipe away some of your tears.

“How long?” you asked.

“Since the night of the gala I brought you to. So… longer. I guess I win.”

You sobbed again, Steve swallowing the sound with another kiss. It’s wet and salty with tears, a mess of apologies and confessions.

“Steve - I -”

“I know, baby,” he whispered, kissing your salty cheeks. “It’s alright - I’m here now -”

The conversation truly stopped after that - you couldn’t keep your hands off of one another, shedding clothes until you were nude and devouring each other with desperation unlike anything you had ever felt before.

Steve was pressing his lips between your breasts when you asked, voice breathy and filled with need.

“Steve - I need you, please -”

“Mm - yeah, okay -”

Before he could move, you were reaching down to grasp his cock in your hand. He gasped, pupils blown as his head thumped back against the wall. The noise that came out of him was unholy, wrecked and ruined as you brushed your thumb along his leaking tip.

“Christ, baby -”

“Can I suck you off, please?” you asked, desperate to make him come undone. 

“Honey - you can’t - I just, I wanna fuck you so bad… I won’t last if I let you get your mouth on me, baby.”

You pouted, even as your heart raced with the thrill of knowing you’d have him inside you again.

“Next time,” he said, “I swear.”

A promise of a next time, of a thousand more times - you started kissing him again, lips bruising his - losing yourself in any drink or drug would never compared to losing yourself in Steve Harrington, you decided.

“Get on the bed,” he muttered, gently pushing you back. You did as he asked, falling back onto the mattress gently as he joined you, face hovering inches from yours.

His hair was a mess, pupils blown and lips glossy. He just shook his head, as if in disbelief.

“What?” you asked.

“You’re just so beautiful,” he breathed. 

You felt your face heat, and you buried your face in your hands.

“Shut up.”

“About you? Not likely.”

Before you could come up with a clever remark, he was kissing your neck again, his lips traveling down slowly between the valley of your breasts, taking his time - he was going to leave bruises, you already knew.

But he didn’t stop, traveling down, down, down - 

“What are you -”

“I never said I didn’t want to taste you first,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “I miss having my mouth on you so fuckin’ much -”

“Fuck,” you gasped. “You’re unreal -”

“Says you,” he retorted. Whatever you planned to say next died on your lips, anything resembling a coherent thought dissolving as his lips found your cunt.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, back arching as his tongue swirled around your clit.

“Just as fuckin’ sweet as I remembered,” he whispered, his breath against your pussy making your chest heave.

He licked a stripe along your slit, making your back arch off the bed, your eyes fluttering closed.

“Be loud for me, baby,” he murmured, lips finding your clit again. You did as he asked, moaning and crying out his name as he devoured your pussy, eliciting desperate sounds from you as your fingers wound themselves in his hair. He groaned as you pulled on his locks, encouraging you to continue doing so as he opted to slide a finger inside you.

“Fuck - Steve! Ohmygod, fuck -”

You felt him smile as he lapped and licked at your folds, adding a second finger and beginning to pump them in earnest, finding that spot inside of you too easily. 

You were crying out, bucking your hips against Steve’s lips, like putty in his hands. For about ten minutes you were completely his, mind numb with pleasure as he took you apart with his mouth. You let him, feeling the blunt fingernails of his free hand digging into your thigh, pulling you as close as possible.

“Steve - I’m gonna - I’m so close, y’feel too good -”

Encouraged, he picked up the pace a bit, sending you completely over the edge. When you came, you saw stars, grinding down on Steve’s mouth and fingers. You were screaming, and he helped you through it, nuzzling against your core as you pulsed around his fingers. Your hand left his hair and found his temple, gently coaxing him closer as you rode out your orgasm.

You were still breathing heavily as he kissed his way slowly back up your body, worshiping every inch of skin he could find. YOu didn’t let your eyes open again until he was face-to-face with you, chin glistening with your release as he wore a smug grin.

“Such a good girl for me,” he murmured. “Tasted so good… you came so hard for me -”

“Mm -” you hummed, pulling him down for a kiss. You tasted yourself on him, the sensation completely euphoric.

“Do you need some time?” he asked gently.

You ran a finger over your clit, still sensitive and puffy, and shook your head.

“No, I’m okay - I actually really need you to fuck me.”

“Thank god,” he said, exasperated. “I don’t think I can go another second without fucking you -”

“I know -”

“I would dream about you, you know - all the time. I’d wake up in the middle of the night with a hard-on, of a mess in my boxers like a fuckin’ teenager -”

“I know what you mean,” you admitted, recalling a few times you had thought of him as you touched yourself since he’d left. 

“Please tell me you’re still on the fuckin’ pill -”

“Yeah, I am - God, Steve -”

“I know, I know - ready baby?”

You nodded, locking your eyes with his as he positioned himself above you, pushing inside of you ever so slowly. You could tell he was holding back, doing everything he could to not enter you in one rough movement. You winced at the stretch, nearly forgetting just how big he was. He kissed apologies across your face, gasping as he felt your warm walls envelope him.

“Fuck -” he groaned, burying his face in your neck. “I can’t believe I went so long without this - you feel so fuckin’ perfect, baby - such a tight, perfect pussy -”

“You feel so good,” you breathed, digging your fingernails into his shoulderblades. “Steve - I’m so full, please fuck me -”

He did as you asked, rolling his hips against yours, eliciting a groan from both of you. He was still holding back you could tell - but you didn’t have time for that, not after months of missing him, of missing this -

“Let go, baby,” you whispered. “Please -”

“What did you just call me?” he asked.

“I - baby,” you repeated. You realized you never had before - was that wrong?

“Say it again,” he breathed.

“Baby,” you breathed, gasping as he thrust into you a little harder. 

“Baby, please - fuck me, let go,” you cried.

It became fast and hard quickly, the desperation you shared impossible to mask. The slapping of his hips against yours was positively dirty, Steve’s arms caging you underneath him as he pounded into you. Your hand snaked down between you, your own finger finding your clit.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, continuing his relentless pace. “Touch yourself for me, just like that - M’not gonan last long, I’m sorry, you just feel too good -”

“It’s okay,” you assured, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I want you to lose it.”

He groaned, the room filling with the sound of slapping skin and moans, your names on each other’s lips.

Nothing else mattered, not when Steve was making you feel like this, not when he had flown across an ocean on a whim, a desperate hope to just see you again, even if only for a moment. You suddenly became so overwhelmed with love for this man, this person who had turned your world upside down - it was indescribable, impossible to even express. So you just held him tight, burying your face into his shoulder.

“M’close - I need you to come with me, baby - can you do that? I know you can, you’re always so good for me -”

You nodded, unable to formulate words anymore.

“I fuckin’ love you,” he cried, hips stuttering, his thrusts growing sloppier. “So much, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you - I love you, baby -”

His words sent you over the edge, white-hot pleasure surging through your body as you screamed his name. The feeling of you clamping around him sending him into his own orgasm. He spilled inside of you, your name on his lips like a prayer. He practically collapsed on top of you, the feeling of his heartbeat against yours feeling like home, like it was always meant to be this way.

Your breaths were labored, sweet kisses peppered across skin. Neither of you spoke for quite some time. After he rolled off of you, he immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you as close as physically possible.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, slow and gentle. It was only when you pulled back, brushing some of his sweaty hair away from his face, that you broke the silence.

“I love you, too,” you murmured. You brushed your fingers along his face, and he caught your wrist, pressing kisses to your palm and knuckles, as if determined to worship you every chance he got.

“I want more than an arrangement,” he whispered. “I don’t want rules, or a deal, or -”

“Yeah, that was obvious,” you replied, chuckling. “And, me too.”

“And, you were right - you have school, and I never wanted you to think I just wanted you like a trophy or something - you have your own life, aspirations, and i know that - I just like spoiling you, but I never wanted you to give up who you are,” he said, face soft. “I need you to know that.”

“I do,” you murmured.

You really did. 

“Besides, I graduated.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What? When?”

“Officially? A few days ago.”

He smiled, soft and sincere - part of you was worried he might cry again.

“Congratulations - I’ll have to take you out to celebrate.”

“Mm - sounds good to me. How long - when are you here until?”

There was still life to reckon with, after all - living on two different continents, jobs, obligations - the kind of thing that could ruin this. But, he just shook his head.

“I bought an open-ended ticket. So, until whenever you want.”

“I - what? What about work?”

He shrugged. “Turns out, when you run the place, you can get away with that stuff.”

Your jaw dropped.

“What? Are you serious?”

He nodded. “Brenner’s out. I’m in - youngest CEO in the company’s history.” 

You laughed, pressing your palm to your forehead as you stared at the ceiling in disbelief.

“Steve - that’s amazing. But how -”

“Shhh - we’ll figure everything out later. But, let’s at least ring in the new year together, yeah?”

You nodded cautiously - he really was here, now, and wanted to make it work.

“Okay,” you said. “Sounds good.”

“Hey - you know what’s really pissing me off, though?”

“What?” you asked, wary as a pit of dread formed in your gut.

“I have to thank Eddie fucking Munson for fixing this.”

You laughed, a real, hearty laugh, and in that moment, you realized things were going to be okay.

******

That night, you slept better than you had in months, safe and warm in Steve’s arms. That was, until you woke to Robin’s scream the next morning, both of you shooting up in bed with a start.

“WHAT IS HE DOING IN YOUR BED?” she cried, shielding her eyes. “God - I wish I could bleach my eyes - motherfucker -”

Then, the door was slamming shut, Robin bemoaning her luck as she bolted down the hall to her own room.

You felt your face heat with embarrassment, sinking under the covers.

“Well - I guess I owe her an explanation -”

“Later,” Steve saidly, shaking his head incredulously. “For Christmas, I’m getting you a fucking industrial lock for that door!”

Then you were laughing, blissful and unable to control yourself, Steve joining you. He kissed the giggles away, pulling your body to his, and not much talking happened after that.

It didn’t matter what real life held after this - because Steve was here, and he was yours. Wherever you ended up, you realized, if you were with Steve, you would be home.

He was here to stay.

author's note: Hi y'all - thanks for your patience! This story isn't quite done - there will be an epilogue posted tomorrow. But, that's essentially the conclusion of don't call me 'baby' - I told you it would be a happy ending! Shoutout to @is-writing for some help with this. And of course as always, Em, without whom this fic wouldn't have happened. Comments, reblogs, and messages are always welcome - keep an eye out for the epilogue!

[strwbrryeyes]

𖦹°｡⋆ haikyuu boys as my breakup playlist pt.3

⟡ featuring: hinata, semi, iwaizumi, kenma

⟡ cw: angst, mentions of cheating, heart broken hinata my baby, these also might be longer than the last two whoops. also can you tell i was angry while writing kenma's? ps thank you for 200 followers mwah<3

⟡ an: its that time again (waterparks ((fandom)) edition bc im obsessed)

⟡ part one, part two

⟡ hinata shoyo: never bloom again - waterparks

You and Hinata dated for four years from your first year of high school to your first year of university. Honestly, it could have been a lifelong relationship if it weren’t for Brazil. Hinata told you he was leaving the week after graduation. After telling you, you cried and yelled at him, pounding at his chest while crying ‘how could you do this to me?’ in between sobs but after a while, you had calmed down and you agreed to try a long distance relationship. Hinata visited you whenever he could, holidays, your birthdays, any reason to see you but it wasn’t enough for you. Hinata would always be everything to you but you couldn’t bear the fact that he was so far away, and sure you both called and texted each other but the time difference between Brazil and Japan made it difficult and Hinata could see it in your eyes whenever he visited, whenever you sent him a picture of yourself, whenever you facetimed…you were tired. It got to the point where you would cry yourself to sleep almost every night because you missed him and just wanted to be by his side, so with so much hesitation, you called him one night and told Hinata you couldn’t do this anymore. You needed him, not his texts, not his calls, no matter how much you loved them, you needed him physically there with you. Hinata protested and said that he wold move back to Japan for you but you couldn’t let him do that, you knew how important it was for him to be in Brazil to better his volleyball skills, so he finally gave in and you broke up after a year of long distance. Another year later, Hinata moved back to Japan after two years of being in Brazil, meaning he could see you again, he hoped so at least. Hinata didn’t know what you’ve been up to as you broke off communication with each other after the break up to avoid the pain of being in eachother’s lives. Hinata had his hopes up and was telling Yachi and Yamaguchi his plan to win you back but quickly had them crushed when they told him you had moved to Europe to finish university so you could start a new life. You didn’t want to be in Japan anymore, stuck with all the memories the both of you had made. It was too painful. Now it was Hinata’s turn. He was surrounded by the memories, everything reminded him of you, every now and then he’d see someone from across the street and see your face only for it to not be you, just some stranger. Hinata was never the same, even if he seemed happy and well, he was breaking inside constantly like he would never be truly happy again.

⟡ eita semi: worst - waterparks

You and Semi have been dating since middle school, practically inseparable. you and Semi were both in your 20s now and life has not stopped a single bit. The both of you were currently in the music industry, with Semi and his band being one of the biggest groups rising to stardom in the world and with you being a songwriter. You’ve always been a behind-the-scenes type person so you never really went out to parties or to big events. Semi, however, was a social person…at least on the party scene. It was a chance for him to let loose and not let worries get in his way, and who are you to take that away from him? The trust you and Semi had for eachother was strong, after all, you guys have been dating for years so why wouldn’t you? With this being the case, you never had any doubt about him going on tour without you. You still had other clients to write for so you couldn’t go with him but you never once worried about what he would do. That was until you were hanging out with your friends, Tendou and Ushijima, and they mentioned how Semi seemed different, that he seemed more careless and emotionless. You assured them that there was nothing different about him but when you went home that night you kept thinking about everything and looked back at how life has been since Semi has gained fame…he hadn’t changed. No. He was still the same Semi you fell in love with all those years ago. Sure he had questionable friends that made you uncomfortable, but he wasn’t like them, he always had girls lining up for a chance with him but he never gave them a chance…at least you think so. Regardless, you’re sure everything was fine and plus you were going to surprise him at his show in Tokyo! Any worry that you have will be wiped away when you see him all you had to do was wait. So you did. The day of the Tokyo show finally came up and you were standing at his dressing room doorway with tears in your eyes as you look at the sight in front of you- Semi and some random girl all over each other. Semi knew you were there, but he didn’t even care, all he did was give you a side glance before going back to the other girl. After that, you went home and changed all of the locks, removed all the pictures of him, blocked him on everything, and wrote a song that was sure to ruin his reputation out of anger, but even after all of that, you were still stuck with a giant hole in your heart and you don’t think it could ever be filled.

⟡ iwaizumi hajime: i felt younger when we met - waterparks

It all started four years ago when Iwaizumi moved to California for college. You both had known each other for 2 years prior to graduating and it was pretty obvious to other people that you two had a thing for each other but it wasn’t until after he had moved that either of you said something. Iwaizumi was the first to say he liked you, infact he said he loved you. It didn’t take long for your young and dumb self to transfer to where he was studying. You were both in love and naive so neither of you really thought about this big change in depth. The first two years of your relationship were perfect, you both got good grades, you had moved into a small apartment together, and you were both happy, you really couldn’t ask for more. Even though you and Iwaizumi were living the ideal love life, everyone else in your lives thought you guys rushed into things. The two of you weren’t even that close to begin with, you were just classmates in high school who had kiddie crushes on each other. It really all came down to the honeymoon phase, nothing was ever wrong and you never argued. It wasn’t until your third year of dating that you both realized that your life goals were very different from each other and this of course caused a ripple in your relationship. Wanting to be supportive of each other and your dreams, you set your goals aside for now and planned to come up with a compromise when the time called for it. Things were kind of back to normal until you both started learning more about one another. Bad habits you each had, sense of humor you didn’t share, different views, really whatever you could think of you both would disagree with one another and you were starting to get on eachother’s nerves. Iwaizumi reached the end of his rope quicker than you did. He ended things in the middle of a heated argument of something you can’t even remember because the only thing you were worried about at that moment was him packing up all of his things and walking out that apartment door but at the same time, you didn’t care. You had officially fallen out of love with him even though you never thought you could. Now whenever you think of him, all you could think about was how you uprooted your life for him. You moved across the world and for what? Nothing but anger and disgust filled you whenever you thought of all the moments you shared with him. To think of how different everything could have been if you two had just taken your time and not rushed into the relationship.

⟡ kozume kenma: easy to hate you - waterparks

Honestly, Kenma got on your nerves quite often. It was nothing you weren’t used to though because it was always simple things like him not doing the dishes whenever he was done eating or him spending too much time playing video games. Your annoyance never came from anything serious, just simple relationship stuff. When his streaming career started taking off, you never really bothered him to do anything around your shared house. It was only fair since it generated enough income for you to quit your part time job as a waitress and focus on school more. This doesn’t mean that it still didn’t annoy you that Kenma would seemingly spend more time playing video games than spending time with you whenever you had free time. Sometimes he would invite you onto stream so you two could ‘bond’ but it never felt right, to you it felt like you were more of a prop for his audience, like he would spend time with you only because his fansloved watching the two of you interact. Still, you brushed it off because it was still nice to be able to make him laugh whenever you did something silly in a game or said something funny. It also didn’t hurt that sometimes he would get all lovey dovey on camera making you swoon, even if it did feel fake at times. In the end, you thought it was the best you and Kenma could do considering the circumstances, you being in college and streaming being Kenma’s full time job. Kenma had promised you that once you winter break started, that he would put a hold on streaming so the both of you could spend time together and it excited you so it was only natural that you were pissed off when winter break finally came and Kenma said that he had sponsorships to deal with on stream. He said it isn’t something that could be helped but you snapped back saying that he could have scheduled these sponsored streams during any other time. Kenma didn’t care about what you said and just stayed in his streaming room for most of the two weeks. You started to ease a bit though once he started streaming for shorter amounts of times and spent more time with you during the day. You were finally happy with your relationship after who knows how long but then he decided that you being on a break from school would be the perfect time to do a 48 hour subathon. All you wanted was to spend time with your boyfriend but instead he just used you to gain more viewers. Again. Still, you agreed to do it agreeing that it would be fun but really yo had a plan. Three hours into the stream you said you have an announcement and everyone, including Kenma thought it would be something happy and big, but really, you were about to publicly dump him. After your little speech on how selfish Kenma actually was, you called one of your best friends to come pick you up and told Kenma that you would be back for your stuff the next day. You were finally free from the one-sided relationship you should have left sooner but now Kenma was rethinking all his choices as he scrolls through tweets talking about the breakup stream. At least it made him go viral.

[goatlottin]

my winner

in which you surprise your winner after his match. in turn, he surprises you.

genre: fluff

a/n: this is actually so short i really thought i wrote sm more but!! i miss writing so hopefully this brings me back x enjoy!

inspired by rwmsdale

You texted Kylian around 7 to let him know you would probably come by. You unfortunately had piles of work to complete, and couldn't attend his home match today and instead chose to just wait for him until he got home.

You two didn't live together. Yet. Kylian died to have you be here all the time. He always felt happiest with you, and he believes he's the most entitled to absolutely all your spare time you have.

On the other hand, you sometimes enjoyed the quiet space of your home. And still wanted time to thing about it.

As you waited up for him, you had tried to fight the tiredness, but it got difficult and you ended up passing out on the couch. At least you could say you tried!

As predicted, Kylian ended up getting home just after 10.

His smile from ear to ear, his PSG tracksuit and small bag in hand. It was a sight to see. After the win, he thought he would come home to you, celebrate for a bit, then head to bed. To his dismay, you had done that last part without him.

He noticed the disorganized array of books and notebooks lying on the small lamp-side table. Likely your last minute studying you cramped in.

His smile faded as he opened the door to a fast asleep girlfriend that he assumed had been here waiting for him. As he shut the door behind him, you startled awake.

He couldn't pretend he wasn't just the tiniest bit happy about it. He knew he would now have that long awaited bit of time with you.

As you began to sit up, he quickly ushered towards you.

"It's okay baby, stay there." He kicked off his shoes as he placed his belongings on the couch adjacent to the one you resided on, opting for cleaning it tomorrow morning.

He found a position that was comfortable beside you while he placed an arm under your head, urging your head to tilt upwards to him. You both looked into each other's eyes. Him, into your sleep ones, you, to his glassy, brown ones.

You brought your hand up to touch his face. He leaned into your touch, and turned to kiss the inside of your palm. "What a lovely surprise to have the most beautiful girl cuddled up with me right now."

You blushed a rosy tone. You found you always had this rosy blush to you anyways. Given your boyfriend had a way with words that always seemed to turn you into mush.

"Had to be there for my winner." You replied, rubbing your right hand up and down his chest affectionately.

You moved your movements to his face, that was begging to be shaved. His face filled with small stubble.

"Did you enjoy the match?"

"I enjoyed your goal, of course. Fell asleep right after."

He threw his head bad lightly in a fit of laughter, grazing your cheek with the thumb of the hand that still had a grip on your face. "Nice goal though, hmm?"

"I mean, I guess so." You teased

He rolled his eyes, immediately understanding you were playing around "You guess'? What can I do better, coach?" Kylian's nose found his way to your neck, where he left small kisses.

"Well, I think you can try practicing more fre-" you were interrupted by a small love bites just right to your collarbone. "Stop! I can-" he continued his assault of kisses while you giggled.

You wrapped your hands around his neck while he lifted his head to reach your gaze once more.

"Should we order in? You must be hungry." you questioned. "Or shall I cook?" deep down, the two of you knew you were an awful chef. Not only were you terrible, but the food was actually sometimes inedible.

However, sometimes you loved being oblivious. Still offering the service to Kylian.

"Let's not waste ingredients, chérie. I'll grab my phone." Leaving one last kiss on your cheek, he jumped off the couch to locate his phone.

-

After you guys had finished eating, you sat beside each other at the coffee table. It was quiet, but you both sat there enjoying each other’s company, no words needing to be said.

Kylian sat his fork on the plate before stacking both his and yours. “Can I ask you something?” He suddenly turned to you.

“Anything.” Fixing your posture, you turned to face him.

“Why don’t you move in here?”

The question threw you off guard. You guys did talk about this before. But briefly. Ending on a “maybe when things are more serious” note. But that was almost a year ago. Needless to say, things were definitely more serious.

“I love having you here. You just being here after my match, to greet me, even though you were asleep! It felt so… natural. I want it like that everyday. I’m so in love with you, and I can’t help but feel I need to be with you all the time.

“Your books sprawled out like that? I want that for us. I want this to be a place you call home as well.”

You were in awe at his words. Knowing how passionate he was not just about you moving in but the overall relationship.

You were so, so incredibly lucky to have him.

He took ahold of both your hands once he saw your hesitance. Looking into your eyes with such pleading but proud eyes.

“I don’t know Ky. It’s a big step. Are you sure you always want me around?” You tried to make light of the serious situation by throwing in a joke. You were actually terrified for this step.

“I genuinely do not think that’s possible, hon. Like, at all, ever possible.”

“Okay, but what if you realize I’m too messy? Or what if family are over and I’m being overbearing? And some of the colours in this house are really..”

“Baby,” he interrupted with a breathy laugh. “I would love to have that mess here everyday. You’re part of my family, and you have my utmost permission to change whatever you would like in this house.” He brought one of your knuckles forward to leave it a kiss. “Please,”

You decided that these were just one of those things you knew in your chest. You trusted Kylian with everything in you. And wanted this change, you realized.

You nodded before he fell on top of you into a hug.

[lucyandalexiafan]

Blow off steam | Alexia Putellas x reader | part 3

summary: Alexia finally fucks reader

warnings: dom!Alexia, sub!reader, pussy spanking, using of collar and leash, degradation, praise, use of pet names / slut, dirty talk, orgasm denial.

words: 3 k

Do not copy, translate or claim my works and fics as your own; if I find out I will report them and block you. Instead, write to me, my directs are always open, and ask me if you can publish your work/fic inspired by one of mine. However, you can reblog them!

She's so hot in this way, with messy hair, red cheeks, and parted lips.

Her index finger grabs some of her arousal that is on my chin and brings it to my lips. I immediately surround it with them.

I lick it.

I suck in every drop of what she brings to my mouth.

I move my arms in an attempt to free myself.

She smiles sadisticly.

"You were so good baby - she pauses, licking her lip - my perfect good girl" 

I moan loudly trying to arch my body. 

My belly hurts for the contractions.

"I beg you," I gasp. 

She raises her hand, fingers together, not far from my cheek.

I close my eyes when I realize she might want to hit my face.

I turn my head to the other side.

After a few moments, nothing happens.

"I beg you what, amor?" the sardonic tone.

"Can I come? Reina, I beg you" 

"You want to cum immediately, don't you? You're so needy." 

She makes fun of me.

I nod.

"Yes Reina, I beg you - I gasp as I find a minimum of pleasure in rubbing my thighs together - I will be a good girl... your good little girl" 

She sneers.

"Oh, no, baby... To be my good baby you have to give me at least more two orgasms, better three" 

I open my eyes wide.

What does it mean? 

Two more orgasms denied? 

I can't do it.

"No, please... I beg you, Reina... I implore you" 

Her eyes sparkle with sadism looking to my despair, my need, for an orgasm.  

“Safeword?” 

I swallow the saliva.

"G-green Reina" 

She smiles as she bends down to kiss me.

Her lips against mine in a passionate kiss.

She grins on my lips when I try to move my arms another time.

She caresses my cheek when she pulls away, a sweet gesture.

"My perfect baby," she sighs, looking at me with a sweet smile. 

I blush and look away in embarrassment.

How can she look at me like this? 

A woman like her to be like that with me.

"You're so embarrassed baby - she chuckles - I just rode your face, I punished you, I stopped you from cumming... and you're still embarrassed. You're so innocent." 

I close my eyes. 

The contractions are getting stronger and stronger.

I tighten the headboard of the bed.

"You're so innocent as a submissive, little girl... the most innocent I've ever had" 

The nail of her forefinger brushes against my face.

It reaches the neck, where it applies more pressure.

I arch my neck back.

How is such a simple thing so exciting? 

I gasp as she wraps her hand around my neck.

She squeezes it.

I gasp spasmodically with excitement.  

"My innocent, masochistic, little girl," she adds.

I clench my thighs in response.

"I beg you, Reina"  

I look at her.

She sadistically grins. 

She gets up from my chest and crawls back. 

Her face near my breasts.

She bites a nipple.

I scream in surprise and pain.

“Safeword” 

"Green R-Re-" I can't finish that bites it back.

She licks it.

She bites one breast, then the other.

I moan uncontrollably.

The pleasure increases more and more.

It intoxicates me.

It overwhelms me.

"Could my little girl cum only thanks to the nipple stimulation?" 

I nod my head, almost choking on my saliva.

Pleasure to the stars.

"So hypersensitive," she bites my nipple again, "so desperate." 

I move my arms.

She's moaning on my body.

Then, she plays with the other nipple, running it through her fingers.

I arch my back.

"I beg you, Reina"  

I gasp through the moans.

I messily swallow my saliva.

I wrap my legs around her body.

The excitement continues to soar, to rise, to intoxicating me.

"My baby is cumming" she teases me until she pulls away.

I move my arms several times.

I wrap my legs around her torso, as to try to hold her back, to not let her go away, to give me more pleasure. 

"You're so desperate" 

She loves teasing me, edging me.

I'm so submissive. 

So slave to her will.

So dependent on her care.

I start begging her, to implore her. 

“Safeword?” 

"Green" I scream "Green Reina... I beg you" 

She Sneers.

"Can I turn you, baby?" 

I nod as I answer her.

She shifts my body and then grabs my side and spins me around.

My hands tightened even tighter by the tie. 

I groan in surprise.

She asks me for the safeword and I answer as before.

She rests a knee between my legs, directly against my pussy. 

I whine in a hurry of surprise.

And then she starts rubbing me. 

"Hump on it baby - she gasps as she spanks me - Rub yourself like a good slut, like the good slut I know you are" 

I gasp at the verbal degradation.

"Like the good slut you were before".

I start rubbing myself when she pushes her knee against my pussy again, applying more pressure, and I slide against her hips.

My back arched downwards, breasts against the sheet, arms outstretched.

She seems to like it, to like my position.

A hand hitting my butt repeatedly.

"Reina" 

I'm discomposed, certainly not sensual, but I move trying to reach the orgasm rubbing against her soaked thigh.

"In-insult me, Reina," I groan, clutching the sheet through my fingers, "I beg you." 

She leans over me.

The knee that puts the most pressure. 

She takes the leash of the collar, pulling it towards her.

My arms stretched out, my thighs in contact with her thighs, my ass pressed against her hips making me moan for the pain.

"Do you want me to degrade you, baby? - I nod furiously forcing on the grip of the collar - Does degradation excite you, mh?" 

I nod as the pleasure builds and she pulls the leash harder when I'm not talking her back.

I choke with my saliva.

The pleasure from the grip is becoming painful.

She moves her knee against my cunt, rubbing it against me. 

I scream for pleasure.

"My slut is so submissive. You like to be humiliated, don't you? You like that your Reina humiliates you, you like the feeling of giving power to someone else who exploits it against you, don't you?" 

I nod furiously in gasp.

Her knee does not miss a beat of the pace and I'm moving discomposedly against it.

"I-I'm y-your... your sl-slut" I gasp as I'm about to cum.

I beg her to aloud me cum.  

I warn her that the pleasure is about to invade me. 

"My slut? - she pretends to think about it, her higher voice to imitate me, teasing me - Oh yes, you're my slut" 

Her lips touch my ear.

She moans in my ear. 

"My submissive slut who just wants to be dominated and degraded" 

She licks my neck and then bites it, the teeth that hit my skin. 

I continue to beg her, to implore her to make me cum.

And then, as it began, it rises, leaving me on the edge of orgasm, torn apart by the grip of pleasure, of the contractions, of the seizures from need.

I call her several times with no answer other than her giggling.

“Safeword” 

"G-re-n" I sigh, in the throes of spasms.

"Can you stand another denial, little girl?" she asks sitting near my face, on the bed.

I nod against the mattress.

The tears for the missed pleasure that wet the sheet.

I close my thighs by squeezing them several times one against the other. 

The body is crossed by sobs.

Her hand rests on my hair caressing it.

"My beautiful, perfect, little slut"  

I nod against the mattress. 

"Y-yo-ur... o-only yo-ur R-ina" 

"You're so good baby that it seems almost impossible to me" 

I moan at the way that she alternates compliments with insults.

This is more than I could have hoped for before.

Her finger brushes against my back and up to my ass, I contract it by holding it up. 

"Your skin is so red," she chuckles, "now it is more," she adds, hitting my skin again.

I push myself towards the headboard trying to escape from the slaps.

My body contracted constantly with sobs.

"Please... please" 

The hand strikes again my ass. 

"I'd like to fuck you, little girl" 

I open my eyes wide.

"But you should turn around" 

I nod panting as I turn on my back, groaning in pain when the red skin of my ass touches the sheets.

"Uh, look at you, baby... With tears and red cheeks, but you're so soaked... Does humiliation have this effect on you, my little slut?" 

I nod and arch my back as I'm seeking pleasure against the mattress.

"You're so intellectual baby - pause as I look at her - My baby hides a huge slutty side" 

I moan as I move my arms again, all this mental thing is eating up my body.

"I can smell you from here" she adds.

The blush makes its way to my cheeks while I gasp when she starts playing with my breasts again. 

"Look at you, baby... a mess of excitement, full of my marks, tied to my bed - hits a breast - You're so slutty that I didn't even think of you like that in my dreams" 

"Stop, please," I gasp and try to catch my breath "Please, can I come, Reina? I beg you" 

She grins as he sits in front of me.

"As long as you don't say the safeword, I'll keep going, baby," she pauses as if waiting for me to say it, "Maybe my slut doesn't want anything more than that? To be humiliated as long as she can bear it?"  

She slaps my pussy when I don't respond.

I spread my legs wide in response.

She does it again.

I scream.  

"YES... humiliate me Reina - I swallow the saliva and realize that she stopped my legs - I'm your slut to humiliate, Reina"

She grins as she lays back between my legs and places her hands along my upper thighs.

"What do you want me to do to you, little girl?" 

I arch my torso towards her, pressing my feet, pelvis and shoulder blades against the mattress, while my arousal slides inexorably out of my body.

"Fu-uck m-e R-Reina" 

I scream when she hits my pussy again.

"I don't think that's the right way to ask" she says, then hits me again.

I beg her to constantly, interrupted by moans, by sobs. 

She touches me slowly and lightly my pussy. 

I scream when the tip of her finger brushes my entrance.

I pull my arms harder than ever, almost hurting.

I'll have some marks or bruises tomorrow.

"REINA" 

She sneers.  

"Look at you... You're so soaked I don't even have to lubricate you - her fingers brushing against my clit - I could fuck you with all my fingers and I wouldn't have any trouble" 

"P-please" I whisper.

A finger, her index finger I think, goes into me.

I moan arching against it and she slides it into me to her knuckle.

"Beg me to move my finger" 

How much more does she want to torture me? 

"I... I b-eg... b-eg... f-fuck me - I gasp as I feel her move slightly - I-I'll be yo-ur go-d slut" 

I look at her.

Her eyes were entirely covered by sadism, by a sinister light I'd never seen before. She's completely abandoned to the sadism, the physical and mental sadism. 

She begins to move it inexorably, slowly.

The other hand is in contact with my inner thighs caressing them.

I scream when she adds another one.

From time to time she compliments me.  

She tells me I'm her good girl.

She tells me I'm her perfect girl.  

My cheeks burn inevitably. 

She adds a third and I feel so open, so full. 

"You're always so tight little girl" 

I moan with pleasure and pain.

The slow pace is killing me and she's using it both to get me used to it and to increase my agony.

I scream when she raises it.

"My good little girl is taken three fingers - she bends down to kiss my pubis - So good... so warm" 

I implore her.

I scream when my orgasm is about to come.

I advise her of it hoping that this will aloud me to cum. 

"So needy that it took so little... I feel the contractions... I feel your orgasm coming and - taking her fingers off the moment I was about to cum - going away" 

I scream for lack, for the need.

She lies on top of me, kissing my lips. 

My cheeks are full of tears.

The kiss is slow and my legs are clinging to her body.

Her thighs are in contact with mine as if she is on all fours on top of me.

"You were perfect baby - another kiss - My perfect girl" 

I gasp for pain.  

"So good... the best slut" 

I nod my head, almost choking on my saliva.

She cleans my cheeks of my tears.

"You kept crying because of the denial... you are a desperately needy little slut, nothing else"   

Her voice turns me on too much. 

The sarcasm, the insult, that goes to my head. 

She kisses my lips several times.

"My little girl loves humiliation - I nod against her lips - Isn't it, my little slut?" 

"YES, Y-ES REINA" I shout as if she could quiet the pangs that are killing me.

She smiles sadisticly. 

Her palm ending up against my pubis, the fingers against the clit.

"Then I'd say fuck you, baby" 

I bite my lips while I observe her, looking from her eyes to her red cheeks, to her disheveled hair, to her clenched jaw. 

How can she be so beautiful after all this sex?

I can bet that I'm definitely not so beautiful, so attractive, as her at the moment. 

Moving my gaze to his shoulder, a small smile appears on my face while I feel a certain shyness thinking about the woman I have between my legs. 

The perfect, gorgeous, sensual woman.  

"I... I-" I hesitate.

She raises an eyebrow. 

"The... your p-pleasure" I whisper in a trance, worried about not satisfying her, not letting her cum.  

"So submissive and innocent - she grins - My personal slut who cares..." 

Personal slut.

I nod twitching my thighs. 

Her fingers move against me. 

"How submissive are you baby? Thinking about my pleasure when I denied you all these times... You're the most submissive slut" 

I tilt my head back. 

I nod.

Her lips meeting my neck.

She sucks it.

How many signs will I have tomorrow? 

The fingers move fast until they end up, again, inside me.

The pace is fast.  

"I'm going to-" I moan  

She smiles on my neck, she scratches my neck with her teeth.

"You know what would go to my head? - she asks, her lips in contact with my ear giving me shivers - That you would give up on this orgasm too" 

Her eyes widened.

Is she sincere? 

I bite my lip. 

Her fingers tapping against me. 

The palm rubbing the clit.

The pleasure that spreads around my body.

Can I hold out any longer? 

To other contractions. 

To other pangs.

Will she give me pleasure then? 

Will I have my orgasm? 

I can feel it coming.

I feel it invading me. 

I nod because of my need to please her, to make her happy, to make her proud, to do all the things that she asks me.

"Would you give up that for me?" 

I nod neurotically.

"Say it, slut" 

"I gi-give up... aaaaaaaa - I scream for contractions - orga-orgasm" 

She smiles on my skin.

"The best slut in the world," she tells me.  

Her hand stops.

The fingers in me still. 

"What slut are you? Mh? - the fingers that are surrounded by the violent contractions - To make me proud, you gave up this too... I feel the contractions..." 

She grins, sucking on a portion of the skin of my shoulder. 

She blows on the mark.

"So slutty... my personal marked slut - she takes a break during which she licks my neck - The contractions are so strong... They hurt, don't they?" 

I nod again.

I moan loudly, desperately. 

"You'd do anything for me, wouldn't you? - I nod - How many orgasms would you give up?" 

My mind is a mess.

"My slut ready to do anything for me... to satisfy me"  

I scream begging her.

I beg her.

She stands up and she touches me on my stomach. 

"Turn around and bend over for me slut, you do it so well" 

I do as she asks and when she hits my thighs I open them, spreading my legs wide.

I feel a pressure on my neck and it's her that is pulling the leash of the collar to her.

The same position as before, my back arched against her front, my head lay on her shoulder.

Her fingers find their way back into me, she pushes them all in, until the knuckles.

I move on them disjointedly looking for more pleasure.

The collar is putting pressure on my neck, blocking my breath.

I beg her to come and she grins on my ear before nodding, permitting me. "Come for me, perfect girl... Scream for me" 

[unluckilyimnot]

Can I please, pretty cute 🥺👉👈 ask for a make out with hiragi toma from wb, I will give you a part of my heart baby 😞🫴🫀

in which you make out with your bf at a bar - hirahi toma

tw : mention of alcohol, reader is partially drunk

note: you’re cute I can’t you no. I feel like I’m writing the same thing over and over but it’s ok slsls

m.list | rules

You don’t know what you were thinking when you started pulling Hiragi with you at the back of the bar. It was really late, you’ve just finish that drink you shouldn’t have and now here you are, closing the door of the rest room with him inside as well.

“Are you ok ? You’re feeling sick ?” His worried self couldn’t tell what was going on since you grabbed his hand in a rush like that, thinking you were having a hard time. How cute of him, you thought before showing him why you really pulled him here.

Your lips crashed on his, kissing him deeply from the start as you grabbed his shirt to steady yourself. You’ve been dying to do that for at least an hour. There was something mesmerizing about him, you couldn’t explain it but it turned you on tonight. You needed to feel him close to you, if you could crawl under his skin you would.

There’s this desperate feeling in the kiss as you cradle his face, pulling him closer by the neck and until you can catch his bottom lip between your teeth. He’s helpless, not wanting to stop it but knowing damn well that it shouldn’t happen here either. But it’s so hot : you pull him closer, his hands rest on your hips and he could slip them under your shirt so easily.

It’s clouding his mind, your scent, the feeling of your body against his and your lips devouring his like your life depends on it. No, he never wants it to stop, that’s for sure.

A knock bang on the door suddenly, forcing you two apart for a second. You’re looking into each other's eyes before he speaks.

“She’s feeling sick, sorry, can you wait a little ?” he urged, feeling your mouth going south, straight to his jawline and he had to hold back a sight.

“Sure !” said the voice on the other side, leaving just after.

His eyes got back on you as he pulled your hair to see your face again. There’s a love drunk smile on your lips and he can’t tell you can’t wait for me. “Where were we ?”  

[discokicks]

WHISKEY, TANGO, FOXTROT - ROY KENT.

PART FOUR OF ACES AT THE WATER'S EDGE.

(series masterlist!) (AO3!) (series playlist!)

pairing: roy kent x fem!reader (no use of y/n!) summary: it's your first game of the season at chelsea and rebecca’s got some press for you to do. however, thanks to rupert, the reporters will have some questions you’re not exactly ready for. the same could be said for 2012 roy kent, who’s abusing his new avoidance power to the fullest extent. but, as the two of you continue to work and get closer, you realize that there might just be something else there.

word count & rating: 15.4k (holy fuck this is why it took 6 months), R (language per usual) chapter warnings: swearing, references to sex, minor allusions to sexual harassment, mentions of alcohol, the beginnings of sexual tension (slow and steady wins the race), rupert is a dick, roy kent has got around and everyone knows it, keeley and rebecca are wine drinking pr besties, men are trash (but we know this) author's note: long time no see and happy olympics season! it felt fitting to post this now, so I got motivated to get my ass into gear and write. there's A LOT to this one, so buckle up. and make sure you stay until the end bc baby we're cooking with gas now. this took a lot out of me, so i hope you enjoy! love u tons! -mags

LONDON OLYMPICS, LATE JULY, 2012.

You’re up 1-0 when you retreat into the locker room at halftime during your third game of the Olympic Tournament against North Korea.

Despite the fact that you’re winning, it was a terrible showing from each of you, except for Mel, who’d been your lone scorer of the night. She’d had a breakaway and had managed to single-handedly beat three defenders for a pretty impressive goal. You’d practically jumped into her arms during the celebration, glad that someone was able to break the sleepy curse that had seemed to be placed on your team.

Your captain Katie O’Connor stands tall at the front of the room, ready to rip you guys a new one. She was the more… passionate of your three captains, potentially coming off as abrasive when things weren’t going your way or if she felt that things could be better. It was only because she cared so much. You all did.

“We should be beating them by four at this point,” she says, pointing out the door. A mumbling of agreements goes through your team, knowing that it’s the truth. “We’re playing like it’s fucking high school out there. It’s the fucking Olympics, act like we belong here, for fuck’s sake.”

The amount of ‘fucks’ that Katie drops instantly has you thinking of someone else. God damn it, he was probably watching, wasn’t he? You could only imagine the things he was thinking, or saying, for that matter. 

You know you shouldn’t care as much as you do, but… as much as you hate to admit it, you want to impress him. Or at least make it look like these training sessions have been worth it. There was something about him that made you want to prove yourself. It wasn’t that he demanded you to do so or that he’d value you less if you didn’t, but you wanted to. Unfortunately, you cared about his opinion. How tragic was that?

Curiosity gets the best of you. Before your coach can come into the locker room, you fish through your bag and take a peek at your phone, just to see if he, or anyone else, has said anything.

Sure enough, you see that you’ve got two texts from Roy Kent that were sent five minutes ago, right when you finished the half.

What a fucking atrocious half. I fucking dare you to hit the post one more time.

A scowl pulls at your lips, but you know it’s true. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t already thought yourself. He had an extraordinary talent for knowing how to be exactly the brand of jackass that pissed you off, though. It only became more apparent as you read the next message.

You could learn a thing or two about footwork from Rivera.

You scoff, glancing over at Mel, who, while she sat next to you, was staring blankly at the wall, undoubtedly in her own little world. Before she notices you looking, you’ve turned back to your phone and to his messages. “Asshole,” you mutter, but type out your response.

maybe i’ll get her to coach me then. she isn’t as much of a dick to me.

The response comes before you can put away your phone. Not your coach, he says, then sends another message. Relax out there. You’re somehow playing nervous and stiff at the same time. You’re a fucking anomaly. But before you can frown too hard at that, he says, You know how to see the field. So take a breath and fucking see it.

You throw your phone back in your bag with a huff, mind reeling as you attempt to think back to what the field looked like before the half. The last three possessions had you following Mel as she took the ball up the field. The defense had started favoring her side due to her dominance throughout the game, leaving… 

…Katie on the left side. And while they hadn’t left her open—

“Did you call me an asshole a second ago?” Mel asks from beside you, having broken out of her own trance. You flinch at the sound of her voice, instinctively flipping your phone over and against the bench you’re sitting on. 

She courteously spares you the weird look you know she’s holding back. “No,” you reply. You motion to your phone. “Roy’s texting me.”

Mel nods in understanding. “Gotcha. What’s Coach Kent have to say?”

“He’s being an asshole,” you repeat. “He says we’re ‘atrocious.’ Making fun of how much I’m hitting the post.” You turn to her. “He’s got good things to say about your footwork, though.”

Mel grins. “I knew I liked him.”

You scowl again at that. “He’s also telling me I need to see the field better.” Mel raises her brows at the look on your face, cueing you to go on. “I think Katie’s been open-ish for the last three possessions. They’re favoring your side.”

The two of you look back to your teammate once more as you consider this. “We could keep trying to draw the defense out,” Mel offers. “We scare them a little bit, hit her when she’s coming up.”

“She can beat that fullback in a heartbeat,” you agree.

“It’s worth a shot,” she says. “We can’t play any shittier than we already are.”

You nod at Mel with faux enthusiasm. “That’s the spirit.”

And that’s exactly what you decide. Mel jumps to her feet and explains your plan to Katie and the team, drawing up the X’s and O’s on the locker room whiteboard. You glance around the room cautiously, forcing yourself not to read into your teammates' expressions too deeply. 

But it’s hard. Especially when you’re an overthinker.

It’s a title you’ve resigned yourself to, much to Roy’s pleasure. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, it was the truth. And while you were still working to get out of that lifelong mindset, it didn't seem to be getting any easier. 

But your over-analyzing leads you to a result you like: all of your teammates seem to be on board with your ideas. You can’t deny that that feels good.

You especially can’t deny it when your coach walks into the locker room to see Mel’s play on the baker and says, “Well, you ladies are way ahead of me.” Because that’s exactly what she was going to draw up.

That feeling has you giddily awaiting the moment you can grab your phone before you head back out to the field to send a text to your newfound trainer. 

i’ll have a shot on net in the first ten minutes, you type to him, confidence radiating through the text. and it’s not gonna hit the post this time.

Your message reaches Roy when he returns to his phone at the beginning of the second half. He can’t help the chuckle that escapes him as he settles back into his couch, shaking his head when he glances up at the massive TV in his sitting room, the broadcast showing a close-up of you with a new sort of fire in your eyes. It’s a look that illuminates his dim and quiet flat, one that he can’t seem to part with until they cut away from you.

Within four minutes and fifty-five seconds, you draw the defense over to you and Mel, who wails the ball over to Katie’s side of the field. Katie has possession of it for five seconds before she catches her defender off-guard and sends it in between her legs to you. 

Five minutes in, you live up to your promise and send the ball into the corner of the net, the crowd roaring as Katie shakes you back and forth in excitement and Mel jumps on your back. One of the cameramen runs up to you to catch your celebration, and you stare down the lens with a satisfied smile and point in a way that tells Roy that you’re looking directly at him. 

He couldn’t stop himself from grinning even if he wanted to. With yet another shake of his head, Roy reaches out for the phone he’d thrown onto the couch cushion next to him.

I told you. Fucking anomaly you are, you stupid fucking Yank, he writes. Stay pissed off. It’s a good look on you, Fourteen.

When Roy sends that text, he keeps his phone closer to him this time, and somehow, his dim and quiet flat feels just a bit lighter, even if for a brief moment.

PRESENT DAY, MID-AUGUST, 2023.

Before you can leave the Richmond facilities post-Saturday afternoon practice, you’re suddenly called into Rebecca Walton’s office.

It’s a day before your first game of the season and after your rather animated talk with Roy in the Boot Room yesterday, you’re feeling a bit lighter. You slept better last night (though you don’t see yourself hitting REM any time soon) and don’t feel like you’re being dragged down by the massive weight of… well, everything. It’s a feeling you’re taking in stride and one you’re welcoming with open arms. 

Practices before game days were typically a bit easier-going, and you and your fellow coaches had decided to make sure the team was up to date and understood the best plays to run against Chelsea tomorrow. They knew who to stop, what defenses to watch out for, and what trick plays to expect. While you hadn’t lent your voice to the conversation as much as you probably should have, especially after being yelled at for it yesterday, you spoke more than usual. While that still wasn’t a lot, it was enough. And that made you feel good, above all else.

That feeling goes away the second you walk into your boss’s office to see her and an incredibly familiar face staring at you from the couch area. Your lips part the second you see her, hand unsubtly slamming against the doorframe, not just to stabilize yourself, but to keep you from dramatically heel-turning out of the room, to never return.

By the way that Keeley Jones is looking at you, you can tell she’s just about on the same page. You suppose she’s got the better end of this deal, simply because your arrival doesn’t seem to be a surprise for her. At least she had a warning about the foreboding awkwardness of this situation. Your boss didn’t exactly grant you that luxury.

Then again, you figure Rebecca had no real way of knowing just how strange this might be for you. She didn’t know the extent of your history with Roy, and the only person who may was sitting right next to her, probably having shared more of that history than either of you cared to admit.

However, what you’re not expecting from Keeley, is the way she gapes at you, then turns to Rebecca to whisper, “Fucking hell, you didn’t say she was hotter in person.”

The shock and confusion flowing through your body makes you blink slowly at them to readjust, and you lean back on your back foot. You manage to stammer out, “I-I’m sorry to interrupt, I can come back--”

“No, no,” Rebecca says, beckoning you in after she finishes rolling her eyes at Keeley, “come on in and join us! We just opened a bottle.”

Join them? You glance at the open bottle of wine on the coffee table, then back to them. Is this why you were called here? To indulge in some post-work girl talk with your boss and Roy’s first real, and only public girlfriend? Ex-girlfriend, you remembered, but still.

You’re sure the discomfort you feel is broadcasted on your face, and that becomes especially apparent when Keeley offers you a small, kind smile. However, the action is sweet and it makes your over-anxious mind ease slightly. If she’s not going to be weird about it, you certainly aren’t either.

Besides, you have no idea what she actually knows about you and Roy. He would be the type to tell her nothing. He was the type to tell her nothing.

However, something about Keeley’s demeanor tells you that’s probably not the case.

When you realize that you’ve been standing like a freak in the doorway for just a moment too long, you snap out of your haze and return the smile, nodding gratefully as you enter Rebecca’s office.

“We were just discussing the game tomorrow,” Rebecca tells you as she reaches for the spare wine glass on the table. She eyes you with a wry grin. “I’d ask if you drank, but that bar cart I saw in your apartment gave you away.”

A surprised laugh escapes you at the rather forward comment, but it helps you relax slightly as you make your way to them. “Yeah, well. It was probably looking pretty sparse when you saw it.” You reach your hand out to Keeley, continuing to smile softly as you introduce yourself.

“Keeley Jones,” she says to you, though there’s a mutual understanding that this is just a formality. You both know who the other is. “Bad week, yeah?” she asks.

You reach for the wine glass Rebecca offers you and send a look of confirmation to Keeley. “You have no idea.” Your smile stretches as you look over at Rebecca and sit down. “These last couple of days have made up for it, though.”

Rebecca returns it. “That’s wonderful to hear.”

“I can imagine it’s been a little different than West Ham,” Keeley says. “We know what Rupert likes to pull. All that shit he’s been saying about you leaving?” She shakes her head. “I don’t know how people aren’t seeing through him.”

The smile you wear falters slightly. “I, uh… haven’t really been keeping up with any of that,” you tell her. “Figured it wouldn’t be great to hear anything that anybody’s saying about me, y’know?”

“Totally get that,” she replies kindly. However, she hesitates. “...But you… haven’t seen anything that’s been going around?”

“Um…” you trail off, shifting in your chair. “No? Why? Is it really that bad?”

Rebecca and Keeley exchange a look. “It’s just—” Rebecca cuts herself off, looking back at you. “Remember how I said you wouldn’t have to do any press if you didn’t want to?”

Any remnants of the demeanor you had when you sat down completely drain from your expression. “Oh, my God. It is that bad, isn’t it?”

Keeley shakes her head, holding out her hands. “No, no, it’s really not. It could be so much worse,” she assures. “I mean, it is that bad with those weird little shits online who always have a problem with successful women in sports, but what else is new—”

“This is the worst of it,” Rebecca interjects, putting a hand on her friend's arm. She passes you a tablet as Keeley goes quiet and you take it cautiously. 

It’s a video of Rupert at a press conference, one you presume was taken this morning. The season kicked off tomorrow and Ted, Rebecca, and the rest of the team had been stuck doing interviews all day, something of which you weren’t sad to have missed out on.

You press the play button in the center of the screen to watch Rupert point at someone off-camera. “Yes,” he says. “Daniel, what have you got?”

Daniel, presumably, asks, “I was just curious how the team’s feeling with that coaching shake-up so close to Opening Day?” You hear a murmur go through the audience of reporters. “Losing someone like that and then watching her get picked up by Richmond must be tough on you guys, no?”

Rupert seems to take this in and sit with it, nodding slowly. “I won’t lie to you, Daniel,” he says after a moment. “I wasn’t happy with the note that we ended on. She had concerns toward the end of her tenure about her role on the team and with certain aspects of AFC culture. She knows just how talented I think she is, and how excited we were to have her working with us. And we had a wonderful couple of months working with her. But, unfortunately…” He shakes his head scornfully, like all of this was genuinely upsetting him. “...there were just some differences we couldn’t get past. The team was remarkably sad to see her go, but I don’t believe it’ll affect our performance this season.” 

He lets his answer hang there for a moment, but tragically, he’s not done. “Perhaps Richmond was willing to offer her some things that we weren’t able to. Perhaps their values align more with what she wanted out of her AFC career.” And then, with a nonchalant shrug, he adds, “Perhaps she just wanted to coach with her old friend Roy Kent.” Your lips part at that, brow furrowing in disbelief as the reporters chuckle. “Who knows? I wish her the best and I wish Richmond good luck. I hope they’re a better fit for her.”

The clip cuts off there and you glance up at Rebecca and Keeley who are both bracing for impact. “What the fuck?” 

If either of them find your words unprofessional, they do nothing to indicate it. However, there’s something about them that tells you they’re more than comfortable with that kind of language in the workplace. “Yeah,” Keeley says. “So, like I said. It could be so much worse.”

“He was the one who was unhappy with how it ended?” you quote. “He’s upset about the differences we couldn’t work past? How about you address my concerns with AFC culture and get upset with your—”

You cut yourself off before you can say too much, focusing your attention on the plant in the corner of Rebecca’s office to stabilize yourself. What a fucking asshole. What a self-serving, lying, fucking asshole. He’s not worth the tears. Don’t give him that satisfaction.

You understand why you were called in now, why Rebecca prefaced the video with that question. You’d neglected to personally get ahead of Rupert and make a real statement on your choice to part with West Ham and sign with Richmond. Now you were paying that price— the price of being afraid.

“What—” Your voice cracks as you attempt to speak, and you clear your throat. “What type of press do I have to do?”

Rebecca’s sigh is empathetic. “We think it’d be smart to send you out with Ted tomorrow after the game. Make a statement, answer a few questions,” she says. “That is, if you’re open to it.”

Your brow raises skeptically. “I can say no to that?”

Rebecca chuckles. “You can say no to anything,” she tells you. “Roy refuses to do any sort of press and he’s managed to be completely fine. Labeled as a bitter, old recluse, but he doesn’t seem to care.” Typical. But then, she adds, “We do think it’s your best move, though.”

You know it’s your best move. You know it’s what you should have done at the beginning of all of this. You know that there’s nothing that you want to do less. But somehow, having that small, offhanded-out Rebecca offered makes it all sit a bit easier with you.

“I think so too,” you finally agree, sighing shakily. Rebecca and Keeley grin at you encouragingly, watching as you reach out to take a hearty sip of your wine. “So, what’s the plan?” You look over at Keeley. “I assume that’s why you’re here.”

Keeley’s face lights up. “Exactly why I’m here,” she replies. “We’re gonna PR this shit so fucking hard nobody is going to know what hit them.”

Her enthusiasm makes the corners of your mouth rise despite everything else. “Can’t say I’m great in front of a crowd,” you warn.

“It’s rare to find people who are,” Keeley responds easily, flicking her hand like she’s brushing off your comment. “That’s why we’re going to make this as simple as possible.”

You nod. “Okay. Hit me.”

“Okay, three things you’re going to want to address,” she begins, tapping on her fingers. “The first is clarifying the ‘note that you ended on’ and those differences with the team. You don’t need to get into specifics if you don’t want to—”

“I really do not,” you tell her.

“Got it,” she says, and the look on her face tells you she really does get it. “Don’t get into specifics. Just say that you’re also upset things didn’t work out, but that it was nothing personal. Truly just leadership differences, like was first said. Even if it wasn’t.”

Your eyes narrow in question. “So, just lie?”

“Welcome to PR, babe,” she replies, and her grin gets more genuine when she sees you chuckle. “Alright, second; we’ve gotta say something about why you chose Richmond. Something that goes beyond our stale press release statement.”

“I didn’t think it was stale,” you offer.

“Aw, thank you!” The smile drops from her face. “But it was. All press releases are. They’re just words on a page, which is so fucking boring. And they get no feeling across. Which is what we need from you,” she says with a point. “You just need to actually say what we’ve already said.”

Once again, you nod. “So, you need it once more, with feeling?”

Keeley blinks back at you, then glances at Rebecca. “My god, I fucking love her.”

The smile that pulls at your lips is involuntary and smaller than the encouraging one that appears on Rebecca’s. “I told you that you would,” she says softly to her, but it’s just loud enough for you to hear. She then turns to you once more. “He brought up AFC culture and our values, but don’t even touch that.”

“'Values' is a loaded word,” Keeley says. “He used it for a reason, but if we’re looking to ignore all this, we shouldn’t be using those types of words.”

“Right,” continues Rebecca. “We’re not looking for a fight here. You don’t want to engage, we don’t want to engage. I think we can all agree we’re looking for this to be over and done with and forgotten about, yes?”

“Yes,” you confirm.

“So, just agree with his comments. Leave it neutral. Non-confrontational,” Rebecca says. “Make it easy. Even if you’re not disappointed to have left the club, say that you are. If you want to touch on ‘culture’ reference AFC culture as a whole. The culture shock of transitioning from womens to mens sports.”

Neutral, you think. Non-confrontational. Easy. You can do that.

After a moment, you nod in confirmation at Rebecca. Then, you refocus on Keeley. “What’s the third thing we need to address?”

Keeley folds her hands awkwardly. “That would be… uh, your friendship with Roy.”

Your face goes hot almost instantaneously. “Oh,” you say softly. You scratch the inside of your wrist, finding it increasingly hard to keep Keeley’s gaze, especially as she continues to sit in that tension with you. “Do I have to? Address that, I mean? We were just friends. A ton of people in the football world are friends with each other. I don’t…” The lie sours your tongue and you glance over at Rebecca, hoping for her to throw some kind of life preserver to you over here. “I didn’t think anyone knew about that. It wasn’t like we were Matt Damon and Ben Affleck or whatever. Our friendship wasn’t mainstream news.”

“Some intern at The Sun found some photos of you two after the 2012 Olympics at a club,” Rebecca explains. Your entire body flushes as you remember that night. “They resurfaced and became relevant after your move to Richmond.”

“Okay, but, if it’s the night I think they’re referring to, we were out with our teams,” you attempt to reason. “There’s no reason other than media speculation that people would think we were… what was implied.”

Keeley points at you. “And that’s exactly what you’re going to say if you’re asked about it.” Then, with a good-humored shrug, she says, “If you want to be petty, you can talk about how this speculation wouldn’t be happening if you were a man.”

Rebecca looks at her friend. “That’s actually not bad. Because it wouldn’t be.”

“None of this would be,” you say to the two women in front of you. The tone you’ve taken is scornful, and while they may not know all the reasons why… they get it.

Keeley reaches forward to grab the bottle of wine at in the center of the coffee table and tilts it to offer it to you. You nod almost immediately, mustering up a small smile as she pours. “So, our plan is to send you in with Ted after tomorrow’s game. They’ll probably, mainly, have questions for you because that’s the drama right now, so I’ve written up something that we can practice and workshop.”

“Ted’s won the press over and is practically on a first-name basis with all of them,” Rebecca continues. “So, he’ll be a lifeline if you need him at any time.”

Keeley nods at the glass she just poured for you. “So, drink up. Because we’re going to run through this shit and roleplay.” She pauses for a moment, catching herself. “The press conference, I mean. Not the sexy kind.”

“Probably better for HR reasons,” you reply.

As that joke slips out of your mouth, you can feel your comfort level with them rising. Something about them is just so… welcoming. You’re in a room with your boss and Roy’s ex-girlfriend. You should be guarded. You should be censoring yourself. But as you continue to sit here, you can’t see yourself doing so.

Perhaps Richmond was willing to offer her some things that we weren’t able to. Perhaps you were right, you fucking prick.

Keeley snorts softly and nods in agreement and you notice the smile that grows on Rebecca’s face. “I’ve heard the HR is rather easily swayed, so we might be able to get away with it,” Keeley responds, grinning as she sees you laugh.

Rebecca claps her hands together. “So. Non-sexy press conference roleplay?”

They both turn to you, and after a hearty gulp of your wine, you sigh. “Let’s get to it.”

LONDON OLYMPICS, LATE JULY, 2012.

You finish the game against North Korea with another win under your belt and return to utter chaos when you get back to the dorms.

While you were the only scorer of the last half, everyone stepped up their game in the ways that they had to. Things still weren’t perfect and there was plenty for all of you to work on going forward, but you were proud of the way your team had turned things around. 

When you return, it’s just past midnight, and all you want to do is go to bed. The game had drained you completely dry, and there was nothing more appealing than the idea of tucking into your horrendously uncomfortable dorm bed. Luckily, unlike last time, Mel’s on the same page as you.

She’d fallen asleep on your shoulder on the bus ride back for about an hour and spent the other three complaining that you weren’t paying attention to her. And why weren’t you paying attention?

Because Roy fucking Kent wouldn’t stop texting you. After you’d read over the text he’d sent to you during the second half (and ignored the weird feeling in your stomach and heat on your cheeks at him calling you an anomaly, God, why did that word land with you so well?), you’d returned to gloat. Hit the post again, he’d said. You hadn’t.

Things had gotten carried away from there. What had started as a slightly antagonistic and taunting back and forth had devolved into a conversation about the sleeping accommodations in the dorms (big-time footballer in his posh london flat doesn’t even have the decency to drop off a mattress topper and some extra pillows? you’d complained to him), then to about which countries you wanted to visit (Australia. For no other reason than to meet a quokka, he’d told you), then to what the fuck a quokka is and why he knew about them (that’s the stupidest looking animal i’ve seen in my life. i want 10 of them, you’d said), to whatever you’d landed on next.

You’d put your phone in your pocket the second you’d pulled back into the Village, helping the team unload everyone’s stuff. Everyone seemed completely dead, something of which you celebrated, simply because it meant there was no team bonding preventing you from going to sleep as soon as possible. The only thing that was doing that for you was Mel’s incessant questions about Roy.

“I really think you’re lying to me about this being a weird sex thing,” she says, readjusting her grip on the bag slung over her shoulder. “Because there’s no other reason that you two should be talking as much as you are.”

You make a face at her. “It’s not a weird sex thing,” you say for what feels like the seventeenth time that night. “We’re just friends. Or, you know, whatever the closest thing to a friend Roy has is.”

“That’s exactly my point,” Mel replies. Her voice echoes through the quiet night air surrounding the dorm’s courtyard. “Roy doesn’t do friends. He hasn’t for as long as I’ve known him.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know him.”

“I don’t. And I say that’s because he won’t let me get to know him. Because he doesn’t do friends.” She shrugs. “I mean, ask Jack or anyone who’s played with him. They’ll say the same.”

When you approach the doors of your dorm building, you make a teasingly innocent face at Mel. “Maybe I’m just different.”

“Right,” she says dryly. “Or he wants to fuck you.”

“Why are you trying to ruin this for me?” you whine as you open the door. “I’m actually, like, kind of having fun with him and this training thing we’re doing. He’s a good guy.” 

Mel shoots you a blank-faced stare. “You were calling him an asshole less than six hours ago.”

“Because he is. But he’s a good guy too,” you respond. “He’s like… I don’t know. Like Ron Swanson or Harrison Ford. Total curmudgeon but in a fun way.”

Mel’s lips purse. “Well, now I can’t stop picturing him with the Ron Swanson mustache.”

You grin, sidestepping fellow Olympians who hang around in the lobby of the dorm. “Have fun sleeping tonight.”

A heavy, exaggerated, long sigh leaves her as you approach the elevator. “Just be careful,” she says, putting her hands up in surrender as you look at her incredulously. “Even if you are just friends. And even if you’re not. As your actual friend, I have to tell you to be careful. All men suck, but athletes tend to suck ten times more.”

“I’ll be fine,” you reply in a sing-song fashion. The elevator doors open and you and Mel step in. “I appreciate you, though.”

“You better,” Mel scoffs. “I’m getting gray hairs thinking you’re doing weird sex shit with Chelsea’s Finest on a random pitch in the middle of London.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, my God, can these things close any slow--”

“Hold the door!” shouts a voice from the lobby. On instinct, you reach out to stop the doors that were finally closing, feeling Mel’s elbow in your side. The voice gets louder as it gets closer. “Thank you. Did not feel like waiting for this thing again.”

Into the elevator walks (quite possibly) the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life. He’s got the quintessential surfer look to him, but in a way that works. He’s blonde (while you’re definitely more into dark hair, you can’t deny just how good he looks), at least six-three, and is built like a lean brick house. His curls fall into his eyes that squint into a smile as he looks at you and Mel.

“Oh,” he says as he walks in. “Congratulations on the win today.”

You and Mel stare at him in awe, snapping out of it as you realize that you’re gawking. “Thank you,” you manage to get out. You try to place his accent and what sport he could possibly specialize in, but your brain malfunctions. “I would say the same to you but I’m… uh--”

Luckily, he seems to catch on and saves you from your misery. “I’m Luca,” he says, holding out his hand for you and Mel to shake. “France. Swim team.”

“Nice to meet you, Luke,” Mel says, finally recovering from her trance. “You have any events today?”

“We did,” he says, though he seems to be talking more to you than to Mel. “Placed silver, so we can’t complain.” When you two congratulate him, he nearly brushes you off. “I have heard your team is looking like you’re going to go all the way this year. It is fun to watch.”

“We’re having a good run,” you respond, and he nods at you with that same breathtaking smile. “We’ll see what happens though.”

“Yeah, you are good.” Luca pauses for a moment, then shrugs coyly. “You’re American, so you are not as good as France, but you are up there.”

You see Mel’s head tilt out of the corner of your eye. “Easy now,” she warns with a light-hearted smile. “We beat them by two in our first match.”

Luca throws his hands up, grin turning teasing. “Just telling the truth. I must support my own.”

“Well,” you say, brow furrowed. “We’ll see when we get to the finals.”

“Oui. I believe that we will,” he responds. You notice that he’s leaned in closer than you had previously anticipated and the realization makes your face heat. “We should put a wager on it.”

“You want me to bet on my own team?” you ask rather bluntly, hearing Mel cough to cover a laugh.

“I suppose, yes,” Luca answers. The elevator stops at his floor and his eyes flick to the number on the small screen. “If France wins in your little tournament, you must purchase me a drink when these games are over. But if you win…” He trails off with a shrug as the doors open. “I’ll buy you one. It is only fair, no?”

You blink at him, trying to make sense of this entire situation. Is he flirting with you? Setting a friendly bet to get a drink? Just trying to be a jerk by referring to your Olympic Games as a ‘little tournament’? Then again, he was French, so many that’s just the way he spoke.

Yet another nudge from Mel finally has you answering. “I’m the one playing,” you say slowly, cautiously trying to read him. “I feel like I should have a better prize for winning.”

Luca seems to consider this but shrugs once more. “Those are my terms. Even I cannot make exceptions for beautiful women. Do you accept?”

Okay, so maybe he is flirting with you. This beautiful, French, god of a man is potentially flirting with you. You wish he’d upped the stakes by asking you to dinner or something to offer something more direct, but this is what you’re getting. As he exits the elevator, he puts a hand on the door while he awaits your answer. 

But, you don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s like, you don’t know if you’ll want him as a prize if you win, or as a consolation if you lose. But, you figure, it’s just fun. And he’s hot. So why not.

“I’ll consider it,” you decide, mirroring that grin of his.

Luca nods at you, motioning to the hallway behind him. “The deal expires soon. And now you know where to find me.” The smile returns. “So find me if you’re interested.”

And with that, your movie-star-looking, strange Frenchman saunters off down the hall, leaving you with a million questions and an American soccer player who’s gaping at you.

“That was the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my life,” Mel says, staring at the now-closed doors. “I’m not even into that and… And he… And you said you’d consider getting a drink with him?”

“He made a bet with me,” you argue. “He didn’t ask me out. And even if he did, I didn’t say no.”

Mel looks at you like you’re both insane and the dumbest person alive. “I think we need to get you checked for a fucking concussion, because… what?”

“He didn’t!” you insist, suddenly doubting your own instincts. “Did he?”

The elevator stops and Mel makes a break for the doors. “I can’t even look at you right now.”

You watch helplessly as Mel walks toward your dorm, muttering things about you under her breath that you can barely hear. The second you step off the elevator to follow, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. 

Get some sleep, Fourteen. You’ve earned it. I’ll see you on Wednesday.

You find yourself smiling down at your phone, and for a moment, all thoughts of missed signs and Mel’s words go quiet. you too, you reply. big game tomorrow. and you know i’ll be harassing you like you did to me, so you better bring your a-game.

Before you can open your door to tuck in for the night, you get a response. I’m counting on it.

PRESENT DAY, MID-AUGUST, 2023.

Returning to Chelsea is like having one foot stuck in a dream and the other in a nightmare.

On one hand, it’s nostalgic. It’s loud and boisterous and you can’t escape the blue even if you tried. The field’s in the same pristine condition as you remember and the liveliness of it all engulfs you completely. It makes you think about everything that happened here and how easy it used to be.

But, on the other hand… it makes you think about everything. Those aforementioned easier times were a precursor to your downfall, and it all started here. It was the catalyst. Somehow, this place that had been in your life for an inordinately short period of time still had the same effect on you as it did eight years ago. And when you stare out at the field, you can't help but wonder what if.

As those memories start to creep into your head, you suddenly begin to feel very hot and incredibly overwhelmed. The tunnel you’re standing in is quickly going from something familiar to something more liminal. You swear it’s getting smaller too.

But on a day like today, you know you really can’t be panicking about the past. Your team’s on the field and your coaches are waiting for you to join them. There were more pressing things that were worthy of a panic attack.

You force yourself to take a deep breath and turn to the light emanating from the field at the end of the tunnel. You’d never talked yourself out of a panic attack at the prospect of more important panic, but at this point, you’d take what you could get. Focus on the clamminess of your hands. Focus on how bright the field is and how much it’s hurting your eyes. Focus on running through the new plays you now know like the back of your hand. 

As you walk down the tunnel and go through your maniacal little sense check, you decide to focus on something that you hear. And what you hear snaps you out of whatever state you’re in and makes it all quiet down a little bit. Because as you realize what it is you’re hearing, a very different feeling of… something takes over. 

“—HERE! HE’S THERE! HE’S EVERY-FUCKING-WHERE, ROY KENT! ROY KENT! HE’S—”

It’s nostalgia. It’s dread. It’s pride. It’s irritation. It’s… so many fucking things all at once and you can’t possibly stop yourself from smiling at it. The twinge you feel pulling in your stomach stays with you as you suppress that urge. Damn it.

Despite his final years being spent at Richmond and despite his new coaching status, they still adore him. You’d jokingly called him a “Chelsea Legend” more times than you could count, but it was true. It’s what he was. Not that you’d ever say that out loud.

By the time you make it to the field, Roy’s standing up from the coaches’ bench to show his thanks to the stadium. The cheer is resounding, the song continuing amongst it and you swear under your breath as that feeling lingers. 

It doesn’t go away as he turns to sit back down and meets your gaze instead. And, in typical Roy fashion, while he refused to show any emotion when thanking the city that supported him for years, a fraction of a smile makes its way onto his face when he sees you. 

(God, you hate yourself for noticing.) 

Looking away, you take another steadying breath and make your way to him and the rest of your team. The Richmond pullover you’re sporting rubs against your neck uncomfortably, but before you can fix it, you realize something: the cheers are getting louder. Confused, you look up at the jumbotron, knowing that that type of volume couldn’t possibly be for you. 

Lo and behold, it’s so not for you. It’s for Zava in the owner’s box, who’s staring at the camera like a professional wrestler, egging the crowd on. Right. Of course. Fucking Zava. You take a seat next to Roy as you stare up at the screen. 

“You think we have a chance?” you ask him, and you see him turn to you from the corner of your eye. “I’ve heard Rupert’s been putting in work there.”

Roy huffs. “Fucking twat puts in work everywhere but the things that matter,” he mutters, looking back to Zava. Your brows shoot up in agreement. “Let’s hope Zava’s not stupid enough to fucking fall for it.”

“Rupert knows how to stroke an ego,” you reply, glancing over to Jamie, who was warming up on the field, unsubtly making a very conscious effort to not look up at the screen. “He knows how to get what he wants. Speaking from experience.”

Roy scowls, and it’s a bit deeper than you were expecting. But, before you can dwell on that, he’s moving on. “You alright?” he asks. 

You know it’s meant to be casual on his part, but there’s an undertone of concern that you try to ignore. “Yeah,” you say through a sigh, hesitantly meeting his stare as you feel it boring into your cheek. You sigh again. “I’m good.” There’s a bit more conviction behind your voice this time, and it seems to satisfy him enough. “I’m nervous, but y’know. It’s a game. I’m always nervous before games.”

“I know,” he replies. “I’ve been waiting for you to throw up.”

It’s your turn to scowl now. “I only do that for big games. This is basically summer league.”

(While your sarcasm was flat, it didn’t go unnoticed. This was, in fact, a big game. Perhaps one of the biggest of your life. You’d thrown up twice today. But he didn’t need to know that.)

Roy looks unconvinced, but you’re thankful when he doesn’t press you further. “You know what to do today,” he tells you, and the assurance in his voice is palpable. 

You do know what to do today. You’ve got to prove why you were hired. Be the coach you know you can be. Get over that crippling anxiety that’s eating you alive. But instead of getting back into that, you say, “I know.”

“Fucking shook on it, too. Means you have to do it.”

You refrain from rolling your eyes and slump back into your chair. “Yeah, Roy, I know. I made that rule up. I got it.” With another sigh, you say quietly, “Just let me get there.”

His eyes remain on you. You think he’s going to say something else, but before he can, Ted whistles, calling everyone to attention. As the team rounds up, you and Roy stand.

Instead of saying whatever he was about to, he offers you a nod. 

You got this, he tells you silently. 

And despite the weird, horrendous, painful nether space your relationship currently exists in, the action does make you breathe a little easier. 

You send him one back in thanks.

What doesn’t make you breathe easier, however, is the score at the end of the half. What makes it even worse, is the unprofessional, pedantic Kent Rule that Roy has placed on the team that doesn’t allow anyone to speak in front of Trent Crimm.

Roy’s arms cross over his chest as soon as the writer enters the room, your players quieting down in suit. Your head tips back in annoyance, bracing for whatever’s about to come.

But nothing happens. The team remains quiet and wildly awkward and Trent aptly reads the room. Before he can leave, however, Ted’s calling for him to stay and is asking for Roy to chat.

Roy sends you a glance, then follows his head coach to the back of the room. While the players continue their talks in hushed tones, Beard inches over to where you stand. 

“Did I see a playbook in your bag earlier?” he asks quietly, making you flinch in surprise. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you were listening in to their conversation.”

You shoot Beard a look. “I was not,” you say, even though you so totally were. “And yeah? I, uh, take that with me everywhere.”

Beard nods. “Are they your plays?”

“Most of them,” you reply, shifting uncomfortably. You hadn’t talked about that book with anyone since you coached your college girls, and anyone you had shown it to over at West Ham hadn’t given it the time of day. “Why?”

“I want to see them,” he says, shrugging at your surprised expression. “If you want to show them to someone, that is.”

A small smile pulls at your parted lips, and you nod back at him. “That’d be—”

“CRIMM!”

Roy’s voice startles you again, and this time, it gets Beard too. You both turn to see Roy walking back toward the showers, Trent hesitantly following in tow. Ted offers a small smile to both you and Beard as he returns.

“That’d be great,” you whisper to Beard, finishing your sentence. “Thank you.”

The next few minutes are just as awkward as the previous ones. No one knows exactly what to do, or how the conversation behind you is going to play out. You know how hard it is for Roy to let go of things. Forgiveness was never something he excelled at, especially when it came to more personal topics. Not that you were any better at it.

You look around the locker room, watching each of your players whisper animatedly amongst each other. You were down by one and there were no signs of giving up. Each of them knew they were still in this. Even more so, you hadn’t heard any unkind or unsupportive words spoken since you got into the room. 

Your mind takes you back to the second summer scrimmage you coached at West Ham. You were also down by one at the half, and the atmosphere couldn't have been more different. Blame was being shoved down everyone’s throat, clinging wherever it would stick. Nathan Shelley had reprimanded three players within a minute and all of this was for a scrimmage. Nothing about that game mattered or counted. This, of course, was remedied the second you started winning, and the locker room was a wildly different place when you ended up winning by three.

While West Ham seemed to like each other, there was no sense of camaraderie there. It was nice, but nothing was kind. Richmond seemed like a family. You were starting to see that now. 

It wasn’t something you were able to embrace right now, but there was a growing piece of you that was… hopeful that you’d be able to at some point.

At that realization, you feel your body relax for a moment. Only for it to tense back up again as you’re scared for a third time, by Roy and Trent coming back to the group. As soon as he gives the green light to the team that Trent’s safe, the locker room erupts into relieved chaos.

Jamie starts shouting about the passing lanes. Sam yells out something about Chelsea’s lack of defense. More and more voices begin to speak up to offer their insight, and while they’re all on the right path, nobody’s said the right thing yet.

You can feel the words rising in your throat. Your mind continues to spin. Every thought you’d held on to, every tip you wanted to say, every nerve you had about saying the wrong thing was bubbling within you and you could feel yourself about to burst. 

No more being quiet. No more being afraid. No more being passive.

I know that you know them on the field. But they fucking don’t. And they won’t know it until you fucking show them.

You can feel your hands begin to shake back and forth in anticipation of whatever it is you’re about to say. However, you don’t realize that someone’s been watching you until they step beside you.

“C’mon,” they chide, making you jump, “Fucking say it.”

You don’t have to look to know that it’s Roy, but you still turn your head. His eyes fall from yours, to your hands, then back to your face. He’s familiar enough with your tells to know what’s going on. One part of you is grateful to have that. The other part wants to kill him.

The expression you wear reads hesitance, and you’ve only got about three minutes before the team needs to head back out.

As he continues to stare at you, you can hear his voice in your head. This is your job. You signed up for this. You’re a coach. So fucking coach. 

You take a deep, shuddering breath and ball up your fists to stop the shaking. Fucking say it.

So, amidst the noise and the yelling and the bickering, you do.

“EVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

The silence that takes over the locker room is immediate and deafening. Every single person stares at you in shock, jaws agape and eyes wide as if they couldn’t imagine looking anywhere else. 

Every person but one. And if you were to turn and shake the sudden anxiety of having all attention on you, you’d see him smiling softly to himself, something like pride gracing his typically stoic expression.

It takes a moment before you realize they’re all waiting for you to say something. You glance over at Ted, who, while still a bit taken aback, nods at you encouragingly. 

You’ve got the floor, Coach. Let’s do it.

“You’re all right,” you begin, motioning to each of them as you speak. “Yes, Jamie, they’re blocking the passing lanes. It’s a straight-up wall once you get into the midfield. And yeah, Sam they’re not marking you guys. Because they don’t have to. You’re all just…” You search for the word, throwing a hand up when you land on, “...running around aimlessly out there because you’re trying to see what’s going to work. But you know what will?” 

They all just continue to stare at you. Whether or not it’s because nobody has an answer or because they can’t believe you’re actually talking like this, you don’t care. Because you answer for them. “You make them mark you. Force them to break down that wall. Draw them out, and then pass through the cracks,” you tell them, offering a small grin as you continue. “I know you guys. And I know it hasn’t seemed like it because I’ve been… quieter. But I know the type of team you are, and each of you are so, incredibly good at what you do. You’re way better than what you’re doing out there. Like, way better.”

Your team remains quiet, but you know they’ve snapped out of their surprised trance because they’re smiling at you. And they look on board. Your grin grows as you notice. “So, let’s go out there and start this season off right, huh?”

That gets them up and out of their seats. The boys erupt in a cheer, clapping as they gather around in a circle, each of them putting their hands in the middle. Dani’s voice echoes through the locker room as he yells, “For Coach’s first game!”

Another round of cheers follows before Ted looks over at you. “Couldn’t have said it better myself,” he tells you, and you feel a sense of relief wash over you. “Alright. I second everything she said. Now get out there and show them what you’re made of. Okay, four on three!”

Hands go up after their chant, and the team runs out of the room with a type of energy that you’re not sure you’ve seen before. You hang back for a moment to take a breath.

A hand clamps down on your shoulder, and you turn to see Ted smiling at you. “Nice to hear your voice, Ace,” he says, squeezing it softly. “I hope we’ll hear it some more.”

You send him a thankful smile, nodding in affirmation. “You will.”

Ted squeezes your shoulder once more, heading out behind the team. Beard nods in your direction, looking vaguely impressed in the way that only he can, before following suit. 

That leaves you and Roy in the locker room, and somehow, for the first time, you feel like you can completely relax. A shuddering breath leaves your lips, chest heaving down as you do so. You hear Roy huff when he moves to stand next to you. 

“Well,” he says. “That was one fucking way to do it.”

“I have no idea what I said,” you tell him. “I blacked out after I yelled at everyone to shut up.”

You get a huff of a laugh out of Roy for that one. “You did fine.” He doesn’t miss your dubious look. “I’m serious. You did well.”

“Yeah?” you ask.

Roy nods, expression turning a bit more earnest. “Yeah, Fourteen. You did well.”

The nickname makes a lump form in your throat, and it takes everything in you to ignore it. It’d been a while since you’d heard that one like this. It settles like cement in your stomach and you wish you could shake the feeling. He keeps his gaze on yours until you blink away, focusing on anything but him.

“Thanks,” you manage. Again, because he’s being nice, you suppose you can be too. “And, uh… thanks for pushing me. To do that, I mean.”

Roy nods, albeit a bit uncomfortably. “You needed it.”

“Yeah,” you say again. You hold his stare for one more second before returning his nod, the tension in the air easing within the moment. “Let’s go win a game, Coach.”

You don’t see the way Roy hides a smile as you turn to exit, the reflexive words of ‘not your coach’ on his tongue. But, he bites them back because, well… he is a coach. And so are you.

And as strange as all of this has been for the last week, it hasn't actually felt real to him until now. You’re here. You’re here and working with him and you’re not going anywhere.

The idea of it doesn’t make Roy panic as much as he thought it would.

(Though, unfortunately, that idea is what gets Roy to freak out. But he figures he’s got a bit of time to work that one out.)

LONDON OLYMPICS, EARLY AUGUST, 2012.

“You ever date a swimmer?”

It’s a question you pose to Roy seemingly out of the blue in the middle of one of your many footwork drills of the night. It was all he’d wanted to focus on for tonight’s training session, especially with your quarter-final game against New Zealand on Friday. While the idea of practicing again tomorrow was still up in the air, Roy had insisted on this practice being solely about fixing up what he viewed as your one weakness.

Roy looks up from your feet in confusion. “What?”

“Have you ever dated a swimmer?” you repeat, enunciating your words in a mildly obnoxious manner. “Perhaps a French person? But any swimmer will do.”

He’s still staring at you like you have three heads. “The fuck are you on about?”

You throw your hands up in a shrug. “I’m just asking. I find it hard to believe that amongst the slew of hook-ups I’ve read about, you haven’t slept with a swimmer.”

Those furrowed brows raise in interest at your statement. “Oh, you’ve read about those?”

Your eyes roll. “So not the point of what I was saying. Answer my question.”

“Foxtrot,” he says, watching you look at him in surprise. “Now shut the fuck up and finish your drills.”

“You really want to use our newly-established one Foxtrot of the hour on a simple topic like this?” you question.

Apparently, he doesn’t. “No, I haven’t dated a swimmer,” he finally tells you, exasperated. He glances down at your feet. “Stay on your toes. That fucking left foot of yours is always fucking flat.” Still staring at your feet and ignoring the way you roll your eyes, he inquires, “Why the fuck are you asking? And why do they have to be French?”

“I think I got asked out by one yesterday,” you say. Roy’s gaze meets yours with a speed that nearly makes you stumble in the middle of your drill. “But I can’t tell if he was being a weird little jerk or if he’s just French.”

While his lips twitch up at the last part of your statement, he seems more stuck on the first. “You think you were asked out?”

“Okay, it was strange,” you reply, sounding a tad defensive and slightly breathless. “He was kind of like, negging me? Which, you know, I’m now used to because I started hanging out with you.” Roy shoots you a look, but you carry on anyway. “But he was all, ‘oh yeah, you’re good. But not as good as the French team.’ And then he was like, ‘how about this, if France beats you guys, you have to buy me a drink. But if you win, I’ll buy you one.’ So, I’m kind of confused.” You stop your footwork as Roy’s stopwatch goes off and you take a moment to catch your breath. “And I’m honest enough to admit that I was only entertaining it because he was hot, but I truly can’t tell if he’s flirting with me and asking me out because he thinks we’ll win, or if he’s trying to get free drinks out of me because he thinks we’ll lose.”

“He was asking you out,” Roy says bluntly, continuing to look unimpressed. “He did a fucking horrendous job of it, but yeah. He’s interested.”

You nod, absorbing this for a second before throwing your hands up. “Why do guys do that?” 

“Do what?” he asks. “Ask girls out?”

Your expression quickly matches his. “Yes, exactly. I’d love for you to explain what happens when a man loves a woman, Roy,” you deadpan, biting back a smile as you see one grow on his lips. “No, dickhead. Why do guys think that… that’s the way to ask someone out? Like, I love a little banter as much as the next girl, but you gotta be good at it. And if you’re not good at it…” You shrug. “I don’t know. If you’re bad at flirting, you’re bad at flirting. That’s okay. That just means you’ve just gotta be direct with how you’re feeling.”

There’s a brief moment where Roy seems to consider this, but shakes his head soon after. “Some don’t know how.”

“Well, they should take classes from you or something,” you reply. “Because you’re the most direct guy I know.”

Roy’s scowl deepens. “Thanks.”

“That’s a compliment,” you say, pointing at him. His expression doesn’t change. “I’m serious. I appreciate it. You’re never afraid to tell me shit. It’s admirable.” A wry grin spreads across your face. “Flirting with you must be a three-sentence interaction.”

He casts his eyes up to the night sky. “Fuck’s sake, you’re on one tonight.”

“No, I’m curious. How do you do it?” you press with raised brows. “You told me when we met that if you were trying to ‘chat me up,’ I’d know it. So, c’mon. How does the magic happen?”

Though you were sure that it was impossible, Roy somehow looks even less impressed. “Foxtrot,” he all but snaps at you, making a low noise at the way you crush your lips together to hold back a laugh. “And I’m fucking serious about it this time. Using my one for the hour, or whatever the fuck.”

“Fine, fine,” you say, honoring your established rule with a surrender. “You don’t want to waste your succinct flirting charms on me, I get it. I won’t push you.”

Roy scoffs under his breath, fidgeting with his stopwatch. “They wouldn’t be.”

The words make you pause. “What?”

The stopwatch in his hand beeps as he finishes fiddling with the buttons. “You said they’d be wasted on you.” His eyes flick up to catch yours. “I can guarantee it wouldn’t be a waste.”

He speaks so casually that you almost don’t know what to do. You can’t tell what he means. Would his efforts not be a waste because he… likes you? That he wouldn’t even try if he wasn’t interested? Or is he just so confident in his abilities that he thinks he could get you that easily? That he could turn it on within minutes and make you rethink your entire, weird little friendship that you’ve started over this week? Because, to your knowledge, Roy hasn’t shown any sort of sign that he’s interested in you.

Or has he? Was Mel right again? Have you been reading this situation wrong? Was his bickering and negging his strange way of trying to flirt with you? Getting in your ear during drills? Texting you during games? Calling you an anomaly?

You nearly shake the thought out of your head. He’s Roy Kent. He’s quite literally known for being stoic, for his confrontational personality, and for his hotheaded tendencies. You’ve seen all of those traits since you started training together and nothing’s tipped you off that it could be anything more than friendly. Or whatever his version of friendly is.

You’ve also seen the kinds of women he dates. They’re actresses, singers, models, heiresses-- rich London elite. The shitty little one-bedroom you’ve got back home cries out in shame in the back of your mind. The Team USA Nike campaign that you were barely a part of for the World Cup taunts you. Actress, singer, model, and heiress you were not.

You’re not sure if he sees the look of confusion on your face, but you turn away before you can confirm anything. “Right,” you say, drawing the word out slightly. You kick the ball you’d almost forgotten about toward him. “Anyway. I’m bored of these drills. I need to do something else or I’ll go insane.”

Roy receives your pass, placing his foot on top of the ball with a quirked brow. There’s a hint of a smirk on his face as he attempts to gauge your reaction, momentarily throwing you off. “When have you ever had a say about what goes on in these sessions?”

“Well, never. But I think that says more about your coaching style than it does about anything else, despot.”

Roy rolls his eyes for the umpteenth time that night. He’s found that it’s something he tends to do frequently when you’re around. “I told you that footwork’s the only thing we’re working on tonight.”

“Yeah, but I’m bored,” you repeat. “Don’t you have like… I don’t know. Games we can play?”

“Games?” he parrots. He almost sounds offended. “What, are you five years old?”

You completely ignore his comment and gasp, pointing at him. “Let’s play knockout.”

“Again, I ask, are you fucking five years old?”

You look at him, pouting as you slouch over. “C’mon,” you practically whine. “It’s totally a footwork drill. But it’s fun. And it’s better than you just standing there menacingly with a stopwatch like you’re Frankie Dunn.”

Roy looks at you, then hesitates. “You’re a terrible fucking negotiator.”

That moment of hesitation lets you know that you’ve almost got him. While you may be a terrible negotiator, you’re something else: observant. The thing you’ve learned about Roy is that he physically can’t back down from a challenge. You know that there’s something ironic in that, but you figure that’s why you two have worked together so well so far.

So, your eyes narrow and you allow yourself to step forward to do just that; challenge him. “And you’ve got South Korea in a couple days. From what I saw last night, you need the practice.”

Roy’s head tilts, the beginnings of a dangerous smile twisting the corners of his lips. “Is that right?”

“I recall a lost possession toward the end of the first half that easily could have been avoided,” you say, sticking your leg out to kick the ball out from beneath his foot. The faux passive tone you’ve taken on nearly dissolves at the way his eyes darken. “For the amount that Chelsea's Finest goes on and on about footwork, you’d think he’d be better at it.”

Something between you two shifts the second those words leave your mouth. You’re not sure if it’s the way he’s looking at you (or continues to look at you, God, you don’t think he’s blinked yet) or if it’s your new proximity, but things feel completely different from when you started. The stare you’re holding is charged. It’s not just a challenge anymore— there’s something else there. It makes your mind whirl.

Roy’s voice is low when he asks, “What would you have done differently?”

It’s not what you were expecting, but it offers you a reason to look away from his piercing gaze, take a breath, and shrug. “I don’t know,” you say. “Crossed my mark up a little. Probably would have sent it up the field. Your striker was practically begging to be passed to.” You glance back up at him, with a smile that borders on teasing. “Definitely wouldn’t have hit my mark as hard as you did when you lost the ball.”

“He fucking dove,” is his response, sounding only slightly annoyed. But, when he sees you chuckle, he comes back to, “Who was open upfield?”

His question is genuine, like he’s actually interested in hearing your answer. “I don’t know. Didn’t recognize him. I think he’s a rookie,” you reply with yet another shrug. “But if you led him a little bit, he would have been open.” Roy’s brow draws as he hums something affirmative. When you realize he’s actually thinking about the play, considering what you’re saying, you can’t help but throw in, “Plays like that happen when you’re thinking ahead, Coach.”

Your tone has Roy glaring down at you, and you can feel the look sear through you. “And the goal that happened immediately after that was all instinct.”

“Maybe,” you say noncomittally. "But it could have been better if you all had thought ahead."

That tension between you shifts again, but this time, it’s in a way you’re really not expecting. When Roy looks back at you, there’s something disbelieving in his eyes. As if he can’t figure you out. But it’s also something almost… fond. “You really watched the game last night.”

It’s a question that comes out sounding like a statement. You’re not sure why he looks so surprised or why the emotional state of this conversation keeps going back and forth, but you say the only thing you can think to: the truth.

“You watch mine,” you reply as if the answer was obvious. “And believe it or not, I like watching you play.” Roy blinks at you, obviously not expecting that. For good measure, you add, “Being on the field actually gives you a reason to be a dick, so.”

That same searing stare returns, and it fixates on you long enough to make you itch. You don’t break it, but you rock back and forth on your heels, thinking for a second, maybe you said the wrong thing. Maybe it was a little too real, or a little too friendly.

But before you can sweat it too much, Roy dips his head. “Fuck,” he mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. “Fucking hell, fine. One round of knockout, you fucking child.”

“Seriously?” you ask, not even trying to hide the excitement in your voice.

“Yeah. Get the ball. Let’s go.”

You beam at him, running to go grab the ball you’d kicked away from him previously. When you turn back, you find he’s moving to get his own. “If I’d known you’re this easily swayed by flattery, I would have started being way nicer to you earlier.”

“Don’t push it,” he calls out. Despite the fact he’s not facing you, you can picture the look on his face. “And don’t be fucking nice to me. I want to see you pissed.”

“But we’re playing knockout,” you say, as he turns and kicks his football in your direction. “How can I be pissed?”

Roy smirks. “I’m sure I can find a way.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can too. But why do you want me pissed?”

“Because you play better when you’ve got something to prove,” he tells you. Then, he shrugs. “That, and… well, I wasn’t lying.” 

You scrunch your brow. “About what?”

“It’s a good fucking look on you,” he says, meeting your gaze once more. “I might have to piss you off more often.”

Oh. Right, right, right. Totally. Ignoring the way that that makes your cheeks go warm, you reply, “Well, like you said. I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

That’s when Roy smiles at you. It’s accompanied by a chuckle and while it’s not a full grin, it’s something warm and mildly sweet. However, for the first time, you’re stuck by how good he looks. You’d always thought he was good-looking, but you’d never been attracted to him. But for some reason, right here, right now, some switch has flipped. 

The realization churns your stomach and makes you physically look away from him. “C’mon, let’s play,” you say, hoping your forced nonchalance hides anything you’re currently feeling. “I like watching you lose.”

Roy huffs, sounding just a bit incredulous. “Whatever you say.”

PRESENT DAY, MID-AUGUST, 2023.

You walk away from the Chelsea pitch with a tie. And frankly, you’ll take it.

You’ve never seen a team more excited about a draw. They’re rowdy as they gather back into the locker room, and you feel a hint of a grin rising as you watch them from the hall. The petty part of your brain again has you comparing what this would have been like if you still worked at West Ham. Shelley would have berated your players (and likely his coaching staff) about how pathetic a draw was. West Ham was the superior team of the league, after all. Their record had to show for it.

It’s then that a sudden realization comes crashing down on you. Fuck. West Ham. PR. You have to do press with Ted.

As if he could hear his name rattling around in your mind, your head coach steps in beside you. He nudges your elbow with his. “You alright there, Ace?”

You nod quickly, like that’ll hide the panic you know is written across your face. “Yeah, Coach. I’m alright.”

When he folds his hands behind his back, you know he isn’t buying what you’re selling. “You still okay to do this with me?” he asks, motioning to the press room down the hall.

“I’ve done press before,” you reply, though your mildly defensive tone tells him that you’re not certain if you’re assuring him or yourself. At the way he dips his head, you sigh in defeat. “I’ve done this before. Just… never at this level. Or for these reasons.”

Ted nods in understanding. “You know you don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

“I know,” you say, because you do.

“And I’ll be there beside you the whole time. I can take over whenever you need me to.” He nudges you again. “I ain’t too bad with all this press stuff. And I’m more than happy to make a fool of myself if it gets too tough. Really give ‘em something to talk about.”

That gets you to look up at him wearily. “I’m scared to know what that means.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t think we’ll get there,” he says, earning a chuckle from you in response. A beat passes before he looks at you again. “You ready?”

A long, sharp sigh exits your body. When you inhale, you turn back to him. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he says, nodding toward the room. “Let’s go quiet ‘em all down.”

You surprise yourself with an involuntary smile, but it gives you the confidence to follow him.

The press room is abuzz as you approach it and they get even more lively when you enter. You can hear your name being said from every direction and the chaos makes your hands shake. You’ve done this before, you tell yourself. You used to be good at these. It’s part of being a coach. You wanted this. You know how to do this.

Ted, who’s been leading the way, steps out to allow you to go up the stairs first. You clasp your hands together as you walk up, praying that this isn’t the moment your feet choose to fail you and make you trip. Luckily, you avoid disaster and make your way to the further of the two chairs on stage.

You look out into the sea of reporters, eye each of the cameras, and continue to play with your fingers as if it’s the answer to calming your nerves. You don’t realize things have gotten started until you hear Ted’s voice.

“Alright, alright, alright,” he greets the room, and you can’t help but envy how easily the words come out. “Afternoon everyone. What have you got for us today?” All hands in the room immediately go up, each reporter’s eyes shifting from you, to Ted, then back to you. Everyone’s got the same question on their minds. Everyone, except the guy that Ted picks, apparently. “Yeah, Alec. What do you got for us?”

Alec The Reporter stands. “How are we feeling about starting the season with a draw, Coach?”

Thank you, Alec, for starting with the easy question. “Well, I mean, I think we both would have liked a win,” Ted replies, looking over at you. You try your best at a smile and nod along. “But we’re proud of our boys. They turned it around after that first half, due mostly to the insight of our new coach over here. So, I think we’re feeling good about this start.” 

Alec sits down, satisfied with the answer. Before Ted calls on the next reporter, he glances at you. You nod once. You’re ready.

Ted points at a blonde woman toward the back of the room. “Sarah, how are we doing?”

Sarah The Reporter stands now. “Very well, thank you.” Her attention is immediately on you. “Coach,” she says, addressing you. “How was your first game with Richmond?”

Easing it into it, are we? You clear your throat and keep that smile plastered on your face. You can practically hear Roy yelling from the locker room for you to loosen up. “Not echo Coach Lasso, but I’m feeling good. Definitely would have liked a win, but it’s not a loss.”

You don’t think you could have given a more generic, neutral answer if you had tried. Maybe simply answering with ‘good’ would have been worse, but you doubt it. Sarah’s not done with you. “I was more referencing the dynamics of the team in your first game. The culture, if you will.”

Then come right out and say that then, don’t be weird and coy. You fight back a scowl and in doing so, your grin cracks slightly. The phrasing isn’t lost on you. Dynamics. Culture. They’re all words Rupert used just days ago. Stick to the script. Talking points. Don’t let them bait you.

“The Richmond culture’s definitely different,” you reply, perhaps putting too much emphasis on the word. To save yourself, you add, “But I think that’s to be expected when coaching Men's sports. Bit of a different world over here.” You offer a shrug, hoping your smile returns to what it was. “I’m very grateful to the Richmond team and staff for welcoming me with open arms into the warm environment they’ve created.”

You hope Rebecca and Keeley are somewhere cheering you on. That was sweet, neutral, and non-confrontational. Everything you wanted to be. Everything you should be in this line of questioning.

Ted nods at Sarah, cueing her to sit down. He points to a reporter in the front. “Marcus, yeah.”

It’s Marcus The Reporter’s turn to stand. And he comes out swinging. “No use in beating around the bush,” he says, eyes on you. “Do you have any response to Rupert Mannion’s comments about you and your tenure at West Ham?”

This is it. You feel Ted’s foot nudge yours encouragingly as you nod at Marcus and take a breath. Just as rehearsed. You got this.

“There’s not much to say that Mr. Mannion hasn’t already,” you answer slowly. “Unfortunately, some things like that just don’t work out. I too was not happy with the note that we ended on and wish it could have worked out our differences. But that’s all it was. Differences. There aren’t any hard feelings or any sort of bad blood between us. West Ham is a great team that I was honored to be a part of for the time that I was allowed. I’m sure they’ll have a fantastic season and can’t wait to meet them in a couple of weeks.”

You nearly let out a sigh of relief when you finish, thankful that that’s fucking done. The lies don’t sit right on your tongue and feel as though they’re rotting your teeth, but you don’t care. You got it all out, didn’t slip up or trip up, and can hopefully put this to bed.

However, unfortunately for you, Marcus doesn’t seem to be satisfied. Because he’s got a follow-up question you’re not at all prepared for. “And what of Tom MacDonald’s recent comments?”

The world stops. It comes to a complete, emergency-braked fucking halt and you feel as though someone’s punched you in the stomach. You feel like you’ve been ambushed, but you know that if you could have been prepared for this, you would have been. This must have happened today. Perhaps, even moments before this. You can feel Ted’s eyes on the side of your face almost immediately.

He… made comments? He spoke about you?

You can feel your throat constricting, but manage to get a couple words out in a relatively neutral-sounding tone. “I’m not sure what comments you’re referring to.”

“In his post-game interview about a half-hour ago,” Marcus says, glancing down at his notes to read. “He said, quote, ‘My best wishes are to Miss USA and her new Richmond team. I hope she finds her place with them, as I don’t think she ever really found hers here. But, you know, I guess you can’t really know until you really try to get to know the lads in the locker room and in the Coaches' Offices, huh?’”

Your breath’s been stolen from you. You can feel your nose and eyes start to burn as you stare Marcus down, steeling the look on your face. Refusing to show any type of emotion or reaction to that, you gather yourself.

What a fucking prick. What an absolute, horrendously evil, fucking asshole he is. You can imagine the look on his face when he said that. The smarmy fucking smile that accompanied it, the casual nonchalance of which he spewed that last part out with. You want to burn him. You want to destroy his life, his career, everything. The audacity he was to even bring up the locker room and the… 

You feel physically ill. You could throw up on the spot, but there’s something in you that’s keeping you from doing so. As the silence in the room festers, you feel Ted’s foot tap against yours again.

Do you need me to make a fool of myself? His eyes ask as you meet them. 

Quickly, you shake your head. You can do this. You’ve done this before. You used to be good at these. Don’t let him get to you like this. Don’t let either of them win.

You know you won’t come forward with what happened. You can’t. But you weren’t going to sit on your hands anymore. You wouldn’t be neutral anymore. Neutral. That was the word of the day. 

Fuck the word.

You allow another moment of silence to pass before you blink and refocus on Marcus. “I…” you begin, collecting yourself. You can feel the anger rise within you and you know it shows in your eyes. You’ve never been able to hide that. “I do, actually.”

(Somewhere in the Chelsea facilities, Rebecca Walton and Roy Kent are glued to different TVs broadcasting your conference. Rebecca’s unsure if she should be praying that you’ll tear West Ham apart or writhing in fear at the idea of what’s about to come out of your mouth. Roy, however, clocked the look in your eye immediately and can’t remember the last time he’s smiled this big.)

“As I said previously,” you start, straightening your back with a new, harder, more confident tone, “I’m also disappointed with the way that things ended between me and my former team. I also wish things could have been different and that I could have found my place. However, Mr. Mannion was correct when he assumed that I experienced a bit of a culture shock when I joined the club. However, I can’t blame anyone or anything for that but my own expectations for what I assumed AFC Football was going to be.” You offer a smaller, slightly more pleasant grin to the reporters and cameras. “But I can confirm that Richmond has met all of those aforementioned expectations within my first week. I’m excited to continue my journey with them and can’t wait to see where we go this season.”

Hands immediately fly up in response to your answer, follow-up questions galore. You glance over at Ted for a moment (who looks like he’s unsure whether he should be proud of you or sweating this), then suddenly find that a group of people are being ushered into the press room. You eyes lock with the man in the center, and he stares right back at you with an intensity you’re not sure you’ve seen before. Zava.

“And on that note,” you say, quieting everyone down. Relief washes over you now that you have an excuse to leave the room, “I think we’ve run out of time for questions concerning me. We’ve got something much more important to cover.”

When they all see that you’re referring to Zava, the room erupts into even more chaos. You couldn’t possibly be out of your chair faster, ready to make a break for it, and run to the bathroom. Ted’s on your heels as you exit, running in front of you to stop you as you make it to the hall.

“Woah, woah, slow down there,” he says with a soft laugh. “Runnin’ out of there faster than Tom Cruise in— well, any of the Mission Impossible movies, I guess.” You don’t meet his eye, or offer him any sort of pity laugh, something he catches immediately. “You alright, Ace?”

“Yeah,” you say shortly. God, you don’t want to cry in front of your head coach. “I’m good.”

He sees right through you. God, why is everyone at Richmond so fucking in touch with other people’s emotions? “Is there something you want to talk about? Maybe something I should know about—”

“No.” It’s a conversation ender and Ted steps back from you. You squeeze your eyes shut, wanting nothing less than to deal with this right now. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—” With a deep breath, you move away from him. “I’m fine. Really. Thank you for your help in there, Coach. And thank you for a wonderful first week.”

You even don’t hear what Ted has to say in response to that before you’re beelining for the bathroom and locking yourself in a stall, finally allowing the tears that had been welling in your eyes to fall.

Zava announces that he'll be joining Richmond and thirty minutes, later you find yourself in a 'Coaches Group Chat' reading a message from Ted.

After you'd collected yourself, you had the full intention of pretending like everything was normal. You refused to let him win or get the better of your emotions, or fucking... whatever. So, the second you received that text, you immediately signed yourself up for whatever Ted wanted you to do. 

Coaches’ Celebration at Crown and Anchor, the text from him reads. Be there or be square.

However, apparently, you’re the only one who’s concerned with being square, because none of your fellow coaches have shown up yet. There’s a group of three guys sitting at a table in the corner, yelling things at the screen every few minutes. You see a couple who are throwing darts at the end of the bar. There’s a lone man with a pint at the hightop by the door, texting away on his phone. But Ted, Beard, and Roy were nowhere to be found.

The bartop’s nearly abandoned, so you choose a seat in the middle, making sure to reserve three extras. When the woman behind the bar turns to serve you, you can tell she immediately recognizes you, and the smile she offers is warm.

“Good showing today,” she tells you. Then, she shrugs. “Would have liked a win.”

A surprised laugh escapes you. “You and me both.”

“What’ll it be?” she asks.

You hesitate for a moment, glancing at the door. “Um, I’m meeting people here. I—”

“Oh. Right. That’s tonight,” she says, with a knowing look in her eye. Your brow scrunches. “When he gets here, call me over. My name’s Mae.”

Before you can question that cryptic fucking sentence or correct her and let her know that you’re meeting people (plural) here, the pub door opens. Roy walks through, nodding once he sees you.

He grabs the stool to your left. “Nice press conference today,” he says in greeting, taking a seat. 

The teasing note in his voice makes you scowl. “Shut up. I was nervous.”

“I liked the part where you called Rupert a lying prick who needs to keep his mouth shut.”

“That’s not even close to what I said.”

Roy chuckles. “You might as well have. That was a media-trained ‘fuck you’ if I’ve ever seen one.”

God, you could really use that drink now. “I wasn’t even trained for that one,” you admit sheepishly. ”I literally don’t know where that came from. I was like, possessed by some bitchy politician or something.”

“She’d have my vote.”

“She shouldn’t. She’d start a global thermonuclear war because someone implied that she was difficult to work with.” You make a face at Roy as he chuckles. “Besides, I don’t think a Roy Kent endorsement would do her any favors.”

“Probably not,” Roy agrees. “Only person I’ve ever endorsed was you, and look where we are.”

You roll your eyes, casting them to the door. “Oh, my God. Okay, where are Ted and Beard?”

“They’re not coming,” a voice says as they round the bar. Mae stands before you once more, wiping her hands on a rag. 

You and Roy stare at her. “What do you mean they’re not coming?” you ask.

“I mean, they’re not coming,” Mae repeats matter-of-factly. Confusion takes over your expression. “They lured you two here and I’ve been given a ridiculous amount of money to keep you here until the two of you…” She glances down at her phone. “Fix your issues and…” Mae squints at the text she’s reading from. “...’Have whatever conversation you’ve been tiptoeing around.’”

By the time Mae looks up, you’re gaping at her and Roy’s already out of his seat. 

“You’re kidding,” you say faintly, praying that she’ll answer yes.

You have no such luck. “I’m not.”

“Fuck this,” Roy mutters. “I’m not getting fucking trapped at a fucking pub with you on a Sunday night because our stupid fucking team doesn’t understand fucking boundaries.”

You throw a thumb over your shoulder in the direction he’s looking to leave. “I second that. No offense, you seem lovely,” you tell Mae, “but I’m not staying here.”

“Unfortunately, you are,” Mae responds, nodding to the man who was sitting alone at the hightop, who stands up to block the door. He’s got to be the tallest man you’ve ever seen, and he’s built. You have no idea where he came from, but the sight of him alone gives you pause.

Roy’s on that same wavelength because he stops in his tracks, glaring at him. “This is fucking insane,” he says, looking back over to Mae.

“I agree,” she says, then nods to the window. “Take it up with them.”

You follow Mae’s line of sight to see Ted and Beard, sharing a pair of binoculars to stare at the two of you When they realize they’ve been spotted, Beard slowly removes the binoculars from his eyes and glares at Roy. Ted at least offers the dignity of a pity wave.

“Whatever they’re paying you,” you begin. “Roy will double it.”

Roy narrows his eyes. “I will?”

“Yes. You will.”

“Why the fuck am I the one paying? We’ve got the same fucking salary now.”

You whip around in your seat to glare at him, exasperation in your voice as you say, “Oh, my God, you played in the AFC for twenty years. I was in women’s sports for thirteen. We’re not even close to the same tax bracket.”

Roy considers this for approximately two seconds, then turns back to Mae. “Whatever they’re paying you, I’ll fucking double it.”

Mae shrugs, clearly not budging. “I’m a woman of my word, Mr. Kent,” she replies. Then, she motions to the clock on the wall. “I’ve promised to keep you here for at least an hour. What you do after that is none of my business.”

As Mae walks away, you stare at the bartop, truly unable to accept that this is happening in your present reality. There’s no way you’re doing this— no way that Roy’s doing this. This is fucking ridiculous, it’s wildly unprofessional, and—

—And Roy’s sitting down. You slowly raise your head to watch him pull out the barstool, slump into the chair, and put his face in his hands as if he can’t believe he’s actually going through with this. 

He’s giving in. He’s not putting up a fight. He’s obeying the wishes of his friends, he’s resigned to the cause, he’s… he’s putting himself in a position to have the conversation you two have been dreading since you began at Richmond.

Oh, fuck. Fuck. This is really happening.

You glance back over to the window where Beard stands, and he lowers his binoculars when he sees you looking. He sends you a simple, affirmative nod, raising the device to his eyes once more. 

“I assume you’ll be needing those drinks now,” Mae says from the end of the bar, two pint glasses in her hands.

You don’t think you or Roy have ever said ‘yes’ faster.

TAGLIST: @dark-academia-slut @tegan8314, @csigeoblue, @confessionsofatotaldramaslut, @thatonedogwithablog, @hawkeyeharrington, @jamieolivia27, @seatbacksandtraytables, @luvr-bunnyy

[russellsppttemplates]

How bad is it? (Lance Stroll)

Lance is there to help you through another time of the month

Note: english is not my first language. I'm trying to include Lance a little bit more in my blog (if you have any Lance account recommendations, let me know!), so I hope you enjoy this piece as this was a very self indulgent piece, also with the help of three lovely anons (thank you so much for sending the asks in (I choose not to share them as they could be a bit more personal for you))! This is also the second smutty piece I write, as I don't write many because while I love to read them, I don't think I write them that well, but this one just had to be it because it is really relatable and it's also part of it all!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: reader's period (mentions bleeding, cramps, pains), smut (period sex)

"Are you and Lance doing anything this weekend?", Chloe asked, sipping her coffee while you stirred your tea, "yes, we are both taking Friday off so we can have a long weekend with the bank holiday on Monday. I think he has some things planned, nothing too structured and rather just for us to spend some time together", you smiled, tapping your spoon on the edge of the cup before taking a sip, hoping the warm drink would help you settle your stomach after another dinner with the Strolls where you had a variety of food so wide you're sure you were not the only one who didn't know half of the names of all the foods you had.

When you got home later that night, you got ready for bed, sitting carefully on the bed after putting two of the decorative pillows by your feet so you could prop them up, "are your legs feeling tired?", Lance inquired as he walked out of the ensuite, dress in his sleeping shorts after he also got ready for bed, "a little bit, it was probably the heels I wore today", you noted, opening your arms so you could cuddle and nuzzle your face in Lance's neck, kissing his soft skin, "Good night, sweetheart, sleep tight", he mumbled, kissing the top of your head.

Waking up the next morning was not the experience you or Lance had hoped for. Your boyfriend had woken up a little bit earlier so he could get started on breakfast, knowing that he'd have at least a twenty minutes head start before you could notice he was gone from the bed and look for him. On your end, you woke up because of the expected reason, feeling the loss of Lance's body and the heat he provided before you felt the pressure on your lower belly increasing, groaning to cope with it, "please, please, please, not this weekend", you whispered to yourself as you made your way to the bathroom, sitting down on the toilet and confirming that, indeed, your period had arrived. Grabbing your products from the cabinet, you got yourself sorted and then dressed in a pair of shorts and one of Lance's t-shirts before making your way downstairs, smelling what you assumed was pancakes.

Lance was indeed flipping pancakes on the stove, his naked back to you inviting you to curl up against him, making you clear your throat in hopes of not startling him, catching his attention, "I was going to bring this up to the bed", he murmured soflty, turning off the induction stove so the last pancake could finish cooking and then opening his arms to hug you, "Good morning, did you have a good sleep?", Lance said after he kissed your forehead, "Good morning, handsome. I was fine until I woke up and mother nature decided it was time for me to feel like I have a baby dinosaur eating my uterus for breakfast", you groaned, finding some comfort on the warmth radiating off of Lance's skin, "from 1 to 10, how bad is it, my love?", he asked, earning a mumbled "7" from you before your face cringed, "is it the smell of the pancakes?", your boyfriend questioned again, moving the plate away from you once you nodded.

Looking at the fridge, you decided that eggs would be the best option, since the smell of your favourite pancakes currently made you nauseous, "I can make them", you reasoned with Lance, "your pancakes are going to get cold, bub", you insisted, your boyfriend easily taking the bowl and fork you were planning to whisk the eggs in away from you, "breakfast was going to be my treat anyhow, but now that you're not feeling your best, I'm keen to continue with it", he smiled, kissing your forehead and shushing you to sit in one of the stools in the kitchen island, stealing glances once in a while.

While Lance ate his chocolaty pancakes, you ate your toast with scrambled eggs, "so, what are the plans for today?", you asked, "you said you wanted to do that trail by the forest, and it looks like it's a good day for i-", you began suggesting, remembering his excitement when he came back from a run and suggested that you would join in someday for a walk along the trail, "Y/N, I was planning on having a weekend cuddled up to you, doing whatever you wanted to do inside, and since your monthly cycle has greeted you earlier, I'm especially not going to suggest, much less take you, to do that trail, okay?", he interrupted you, his hand joining yours on the cold stone counter top, "I know you like the back of my hand, and while I appreciate that you want to do something I liked and suggested we do, I also want to take care of you and let you rest, because I bet the last thing on your mind is putting on leggings and going for a walk outside", he finished his rant, eyes sparkling at your blushing cheeks, "yes, I was hoping you'd want to stay in", you mumbled, puckering your lips so he could kiss them, "this weekend was always going to be about us, so cuddles and kisses it is".

Sitting in the living room sofa, Lance picked out a comedy show you both liked to watch, having spent enough time on it to the point where you know most of the lines already. It was all fine until your boyfriend's hand, that had been rubbing circles on your lower belly, began rubbing wider circles and accidentally touched your boobs, "fuck, Lance!", you hissed, your hand moving to where his was previously, "Did I hurt you? I'm so sorry!", your nervous boyfriend scrambled, "they're very sensitive, more so than usual", you explained, trying to soften the concerned crease on his forehead, "I know they look good, but you might have to stay away from them for a little bit", you teased him, relief overcoming you when you finally saw him smile.

After havin lunch, you felt good enough yo help Lance tidy the kitchen, despite his initial concern that it would make your back pain and cramps worse. You were putting the last plates on the cabinet when you felt the first cramp since earlier in the morning, slowly getting back up and resting your hands on the counter top, trying to soothe the pressure by rocking your hips on slow circles, "Are you okay, sweetheart?", Lance asked when he saw you, putting the table cloth in its designated drawer and approaching you, his hands on your hips, "My cramps have started again", you groaned, turning around so you could steal a cuddle from Lance, supporting your chin on his sternum and looking up at him, "how bad is it?", he asked, "about a seven, eight maybe, they're picking up", you mumbled, "is there anything I can do for you?", he questioned, "some cuddles would be nice right now", you suggested, pushing him to your shared bedroom.

Even though you had to get up a few times to use the bathroom since your flow was always heavier around the first few days, the cuddles and the nap you took helped distract you from the uncomfortable pressure on your tummy that had been building up.

"Do you have your products or do I have to pop to the store?", he asked gently, "I have enough, thank you. I stocker up last month", you reasoned, "but I was wondering if we have everything to make a carbonara? I just remembered it exists and now I can't stop thinking about it", you blushed. "I saw them all this morning, I think we do, yes. So, no sweet cravings this month?", he pointed out, "so far, no. At least I didn't steal your pancakes and you can't blame me for making you eat sugary things this month", you winked, "I did that once! The rest of the times I have mastered the art of hiding it from the nutrition team!".

By the end of the night, you were back in bed, tummy full of good food and waiting for Lance to come up and joing you, "I warmed this up", Lance announced as he walked inside the bedroom room, your wheatbag on his arm while he carried a tray with some water and snacks on it, "I also have some meds here in case it doesn't help", putting the wooden board on top of your nightstand and sitting beside you, "I thought I was out of them", you looked at the box, "I noticed you were running out and bought another box when I came back from the factory the other day, just forgot it in my car", he explained.

Opening your arms, you managed to just about lace them around his neck, pulling his face closer to yours so you could kiss him everywhere your lips could reach, "thank you, my love. I would've been miserable if I didn't have you here today", you pushed him to be closer to you, cuddling once again in his chest while he ran his hand along your back, often kissing the top of your head.

When Lance noticed you were falling asleep, he tapped your arm so he could have a little bit of your attention, "I know the bag is still warm, but if at any point it stops working, the tray has your meds, some water and snacks of it gets too much during the night, okay? And wake me up if you need anything", he tutted, earning a nod of confirmation from you and then a kiss to his naked chest.

.

Waking up was a slightly better experience that it had been the morning before, feeling Lance's body heat against your own, the wheatbag long forgotten on the floor. Somewhere around three in the morning, you had to wake up to change your pad and take one of the pills with Lance's help, since you couldn't help the lightheaded feeling that overcame you, "I'm sorry you feel like this, gorgeous. But I'm here for whatever you need", he comforted.

Laying with your back to Lance's chest, it was not difficult to figure out that you were in fact feeling his morning wood. Unlike last month, where you wouldn't allow Lance to even touch your tummy without you having a shirt on because you just didn't feel that great and felt a tad bit gross, this time around you were turned on by it. Wiggling closer to him, you turned yourself around so you could face him, kissing his neck in hopes of slowly waking him up, "to what do I owe the pleasure of being waken up like this?", your boyfriend's croaky morning voice rasped, his hands coming to hold your waist as pulling you impossibly closer to him, "I woke up to this", you palmed his erection through his sleeping shorts, "and I have my very handsome and amazingly wonderful boyfriend right next to me in bed", you carried on, hands feeling the muscles contract on his abdomen, "and I'm a bit horny too, all these hormones are making me very needy", you gulped, finishing with a kiss to Lance's throat.

Moving his hand under your pyjama top, Lance continued to nip kisses anywhere he could, "do you want to keep this here?", he asked, pulling his face away enough so you could look at eachother in the eye, "can we move this to the shower? It will be less messy", you suggested, your boyfriend not allowing any of the embarrassment features that framed your face stay any longer, nodding and kissing your lips passionately before he took you to the en suite, turning on the shower while you sorted yourself out from the night before, helping you take off your clothes so you could both get inside.

The warm water was helping your bodies loosen up, hands roaming on the other's body, feeling and leaving caresses as his fingers travelled to your hips, one hand holding you in place against the cold tiled wall as his hand moved to touch your clit, "Would you like me to play with your boobs too? Or are they still to sensitive?", your boyfriend asked lovingly, his hand that was holding you in place now free and caressing the side of your chest, "they hurt still", you mumbled, enjoyed the way his fingers danced on your skin.

Lance hummer against your throat, enjoying how you were squirming under his small and simple touches. His fingers returned back to your waistline, rubbing your soft tummy in circles before dipping them further down, quickly finding your clit, making you gasp. By now, every little touch and feel of him was turning you on, the smallest touches bringing your nerve endings to erupt like fireworks. His touches were soft but skilled, leading you to arch your back from the wall, your sensitive nipples grazing Lance's skin, earning an hiss and a whisper from Lance, "careful, bub, dont do anything that can hurt you", he whispered, moving a hand to soothe the sharp pain. Whimpers left your mouth while you felt your tummy tightening, the pressure increasing, “you're doing so well, Y/N”, Lance muttered against your neck, smirking against the skin while you only concentrated on his fingers. You were so close already, clit twitching under his touch from his touches, combining the right amount of pressure and flicks, the small circles and the feel of his hands on your torso bringing you closer as your legs bent slightly.

"Are you close, Y/N?", he asked, seeing you were out of breath, and the way your body was reacting was enough for him to know your answer, "it's okay, my love, you can let go. I've got you", he whispered on your ear, your moans delicious in his own before you let go. You allowed your fingers to hold onto his strong neck when you couldn't trust your legs to hold you up given the knot in your stomach that was starting to unravel. Your boyfriend's name spilled out of your mouth like a mantra, eyes rolling to the back of your head from the orgasm's intensity. You tried your best to gain your breath back, feeling Lance kiss your shoulders and neck, "are you okay?", he questioned, his hand that was not supporting your legs moved forward caress your back, "yeah", you managed to croak out, smiling against his skin when you heard yourself.

As your eyes fluttered open, you turned to look at Lance, seeing him smile while his eyes were wide, making you place a kiss on his lips, "it was so good, Lance, so good", you whispered like it was a secret you wanted to keep between you two. Forcing your legs to the floor, you regained control over your body, seeing Lance switch the shower from its top part to the detachable head, "you want me to?", he gestured to the running water, earning a small nod from your. The water felt amazing against your skin, holding Lance's hand so he could allow you to run water along where his hands just were, not expecting the area to be so sensitive still, another hiss leaving your lips followed by a mewled moan, "still sensitive?", he joked making you swat his chest, "c'mon, let me wash your hair", he tried his best to divert your attention away from his aching cock, "I want to make you feel good, too", you tempted, your hand travelling down from his belly button, "if you want to, though. If you think it's too gross or you don't want to, it's fine, I'm sorry I eve-", you were interrupted by a breathtaking kiss, only splitting so you could breathe, "Y/N, there isn't a moment in which I don't want to be inside you or having you wrapped around me, so if you're up to it, I'm all in", he smirked, "I just don't want you to be uncomfortable with it", he finished, holding your hand in his and kissing your knuckles one by one.

Smiling, you hoisted your leg up on his hip, his own hand holding your leg in place while his other guided himself to your entrance, “if at any point you don't feel good or it hurts, yiu tell me, okay?", Lance mumbled against your shoulder, warming you up before he thrusted his hips up, sinking his cock into you. Sex with Lance was always amazing, but maybe it was your increased sensitivity, the moans and gasp you let out indicating it. From being in your period and your previous orgasm, everything felt better, stronger, deeper. You could feel every every vein of his cock sliding against your walls as he slid in inch for inch, slowly and pleasurably, “I love you so much, Y/N”, Lance moaned as he bottomed you out, making you tap his shoulder impatiently, wanting to feel him filling you up again and again, moans leaving your mouths as he began to move in a slow pace.

“It feels so good, my love, you're so tight for me”, Lance moraned, increasing the speed of his thrusts, and sending bolts of pleasure through your entire body.

His hand looked for yours, pinning it against the tiled wall, and when he felt your leg drop down, a sign that you were no longer to keep it up on your own, Lance hoisted you up completely, helping lace your legs on his hips, his movements feeling even better as they touched the particular spot inside you that made you see stars, "it's better this way", you whimpered, letting him know he could carry on.

He hummed as your lips met, your arms wrapping around his back safely and holding him closer to you as you felt yourself nearing climax again. Lance was nearly there too, his breathing uneven, thrusts growing sloppy and a little less precise, “are you going to cum for me, beautiful?”, he asked, pulling back from your lips only slightly.

You mumbled an affirmative answer, followed by a moan that confirmed Lance's suspicions, and with one last thrust, you came again, feeling Lance's own release as he groaned against your neck, mumbles of praises your name leaving his mouth.

You stayed like that for a while until Lance tapped your thigh, silently asking you if you were okay to stand on your own feet, making you drop to stand, still rubbing circles on his back, enjoying the closeness of his body to yours, feeling his kisses on your skin.

"I'm going to grab the shower head and I'm going to point it to the area between us, okay?", you asked, earning a nod from your boyfriend who managed to get it to you, turning on the water so the whole situation that had happened could just flush down the drain, "Oh, you're squeezing me so well, fuck, Y/N", he said, "I thought you'd be more sensitive", he reasoned, making you blush, "I am, but I'm also aware that this area probably looks like a murder zone and the less we see of that, the better", you reasoned back, chuckling when Lance kept looking into your eyes, "best look at you then. Luckily, it's something I could do forever", he smirked.

"There, see? All good, my love", Lance said once only clear water was running to thw drain, "how bad is it?", he asked, craddling your face with his hand. Smiling, you hugged your boyfriend once more, resting your chin in his sternum and looking up at him, "almost zero", you kissed his jaw, "I love you, Lance. Thank you", you said, your boyfriend shaking his head, "you don't need to thank me, okay? It's bad enough you have to go through the pain, it's my job to do the best that I can to help you with it", he mumbled, kissing your lips before grabbing your shampoo bottle, turning around so he could start washing your hair.

"I feel a lot better now, do you still want to go on that walk?", you questioned Lance while you towell dried your hair in front of the mirror in your shared bedroom. Chuckling, Lance approached you, hugging your from your back and rubbing circles on your tummy. You seemed to have not forgotten that he wanted to go on that walk, but he also noticed that even going up the stairs tired you out, "I've seen how much you struggle with going up the stairs", Lance reasoned despite your insistence to do something for him and that he wanted to do, owning up to it, "I feel like I have elephant legs all of a sudden, it's like I'm carrying a baby elephant on each of my knees", you mumbled, "so why don't I give you a massage? Henry sometimes helps me when I have restless legs", he forwarded, "I promise I'll do my best", your boyfriend suggested, making you take off your leggings and lay on the mattress while he got your favourite body oil.