#so. uh. maybe give yourself some time to wake up before you read?

[bobbyseyesmile]

Come again?

Morgan’s dark eyes followed you around the room as you stopped to pour yourself some more coffee to properly start the day. You ignored him when you sat down at your desk but you couldn’t ignore your best friends huge smile so you looked up from your laptop.

“Okay, what is it?” you asked, directed at Morgan and Emily. Both shared a quick look before their eyes shifted back, right at you.

“New hair, huh?”

You rolled your eyes but got excited; of course your very attentive colleagues would notice but would the very weird nerd across the room notice it as well?

Just when you opened your mouth to give Morgan a sarcastic reply Garcia walked into the room, her eyes cold and concentrated. Uh-oh, this would be a bad case. But as soon as her eyes met you a smile curled around her lips.

“Meow, mama! What’s with the sexy hair? And is that a new top as well- jeez, you look hot!” You felt your cheeks redden but couldn’t hide your amusement. “Thanks… you think it’s too much?”

“Oh sugar, it’s never too much pizazz. In fact, the world lacks it-“ she sighed which made Morgan shook his head while laughing “But! I know you didn’t dress that sexy for me, which makes me, to be honest, a bit sad but I get it.”

“Get what?” you turned your head towards Emily who had her eyebrows raised. “You got dressed up for someone in the office?!”

“Of course she did…” Morgan smirked “Should have known. So, tell us, who’s the lucky fella?”

Garcia giggled. “World best profilers in this room and you don’t know??” You turned red again and jumped from your seat. “Shouldn’t we discuss the new case? I bet Hotch is already waiting for us.” You gathered some papers and walked away, ignoring their snickering in the background.

“That woman is mysterious.” Morgan whispered but turned his head when Garcia put a hand on his shoulder. “Oh not at all, my love. That woman is just madly in love.” The quirky blonde turned her head and the friends followed her glance to the curly-haired man across the room.

“Seriously?” a small snort escaped the black man “It’s Reid?”

Spencer walked into the circled office when he noticed all eyes on him. Well, not all eyes because yours were fixed on the file in front of you. You didn’t even look up for a second and it gave him a bitter taste in his mouth. You hated him, he was sure… or maybe it wasn’t hate but surely a strong dislike of some sort.

You always turned red when he made a joke or the one time he complimented your hair- you must have been so angry with him, why else turn red?

“Hey wonder boy, we’ve waited.” Morgan turned in his chair and gave him a cheeky smile which Spencer tried to dismiss. “Sorry, I got lost. I’m currently reading Finnegans Wake again; my bookclub decided to study the consciousness writing style as well as the abandonment of narrative conventions to determine-“

“I’m sorry-“ Morgan raised his hands “I’ll never criticise you again but please for the love of all good, stop talking.”

Spencer noticed the way your fingers trembled against the papers. Great, he did it again. He bored you.

“Why study a book that’s literally so complicated that the general public didn’t even read it?” Emily asked and Spencer opened his mouth but was interrupted by Hotch.

“LA needs us-“ he clicked on the small remote control and a series of gruesome pictures filled the screen “They got an Unsub who hunts young women for their hearts. He cuts them out while they’re still alive.”

“Cuts them out? Dear god….” JJ mumbled but that wasn’t even the worst part.

“The coroner determined that he uses a dull knife. These women lived through the whole ordeal.”

Two days later and the team already presented a profile but couldn’t find a viable suspect so the mission continued into nowhere until Hotch came up with a plan.

“Y/N?” he asked and you looked up “Please come see me.” You walked in the small office and closed the doors as your boss presented you with his idea on how to catch this Unsub. The small hairs on your back stood up but you did exactly what Hotch thought you would: You accepted.

“So, did I get this right? We use Y/N as bait for this guy?” Morgan asked once again and you nodded.

“I’m his type. This will work.” Your voice was a bit shaky but you were still determined to stop this utter psychopath.

“Excuse me but we’re dealing here with a deranged psychopath who’s most likely a cannibal and you want Y/N near him?!” It was the first time that Spencer Reid lost his cool in front of Hotch and questioned his very decisions.

“He’s not going to hurt her, Reid-“

“Yeah, he better not.” the younger huffed “This is bullshit.”

“Spencer-“ you said softly and touched his arm “We need to catch this guy, you said it yourself how dangerous he is.”

“Catching him is not worth to put you in immediate danger.” he shook your hand away and angrily ran his fingers through his hair.

“We leave in ten minutes.” Hotch mumbled before getting up and signalling the others to leave you two alone.

“Spence-“ you tried again but he shook his head. “There has to be another way.”

“Of course there could be another way but this is the fastest. No other young woman should die.”

“You don’t understand” His voice was shaky and he let out a small laugh “I can’t lose you.” Spencer noticed your reddened cheeks and sighed. “Doesn’t matter how angry you get and how much you hate me but-“

“Woah, Spencer, hold up. What do you mean?”

“I know you’re always angry at me and usually I try to ignore it or, or I don’t know, blame it on my weird nature but this? I can’t let you do this.”

“I’m never angry with you, what are you talking about?” You raised your eyebrows in confusion and it made him stop in his tracks.

“You know, the reddened cheeks, your flared nostrils and always looking at the ground when I’m talking. Those are clear signs of hate or disgust.”

“For someone that smart you are pretty dense, Dr. Reid.” you gave him a soft smile and he looked at you in confusion. “Spencer, I like you. A lot. What you’re describing is me being shy and embarrassed.”

“Come again?” he asked and you took a step in his direction.

“I like you, dumbass.”

Spencer was frozen when he felt your lips on his own. You liked him? The moment he felt you withdraw, his hands were on your hips, stopping you. He felt you smiling against his lips and he smiled back. „Guess I need some profiling tipps, huh?“

„I can help with that.“

You’ll only find my work posted here and and on my AO3 blog. I don’t give consent for my work to be re-posted (in any language) onto any other platform, even if it is with credit. Thank you.

[ollieofthebeholder]

I have just remembered tomorrow is Saturday and I’m not going to lie, I’m nervous about the chapter. The Unknowing went too easily so there’s no way Tim and Sasha’s plan went smoothly.

I can at least assure you that they both survive.

I will also inform you that a key scene from this chapter mugged me while I was at work several weeks ago and insisted on being written even though I don't think Martin had even left for America yet, and in the note repository for said scene in Scrivener is the phrase "Oh, ugh, this is going to need so many CWs it's not even funny."

So you should probably be at least somewhat nervous, is what I'm saying.

[familyvideostevie]

time you will not spend alone

joel miller x fem!reader, 18+ mdni romance at the end of the world is this: flowers, lazy nights in bed after long days, and savoring every moment | or, joel makes you something. jackson!joel au, fem!reader, fluff, maybe a bit cheesy but idgaf, ellie cameo cause i can't do a damn thing without her, tommy gets some page time here too, smut (riding, unprotected p in v sex, some finger sucking lol), tenderness, gift giving | 5.7k a/n: i think this is the last part of the just and just as series for the foreseeable future. thank you for reading about this little au and these two lovebirds! i adore them. thank you @frannyzooey and @macfrog for your eyes and support on this. and thank you everyone else for being patient. <3

Spring sweeps into the valley seemingly overnight. The peaks remain snow-capped but the bare branches of trees between the evergreens begin to bud. Chilly mornings lose their bite and frost turns to dew and every day there is more light.

You've always thought Jackson looks its best in winter, but it's a damn sight to see as life and color return. And the latter is your favorite part -- the rolling hills outside the walls and the forest patrol paths are dotted and then overflowing with flowers.

It makes you feel more alive. Patrol isn't a freezing ordeal anymore -- it's an opportunity to see the remaining beauty in the world.

Today's shift is short and easy but you find yourself lingering, running your hands through pine needles and turning your face to the sun. Your horse is happy to munch on a patch of grass in a clearing just off the main trail, but your patrol partner is less than impressed.

"Are you serious?" Ellie moans. "You're stopping again? What the fuuuuuuuuck."

She sags in the saddle. The pout on her lips makes her look like a kid sent to bed without supper rather than an almost-twenty-year-old forced to spend some extra minutes in the fresh air. Shimmer has no problem chewing on some weeds despite her rider's moaning.

"Let me enjoy the sun," you say. "When you get older you'll appreciate the little things, too."

You hop off your horse and Ellie sighs loudly.

"Jesus, you're not that old," she mutters. "Seriously, what are you doing?"

You sweep your arms around you, gesturing at the meadow. "These flowers are nice," you tell her, pointedly. She adjusts the rifle slung over her shoulder. "I think I'm going to pick some and bring them home."

She snorts. "Oh, is Joel suddenly into flowers?"

You ignore her bait and crouch, gaze sweeping over the array of colors in front of you. You tried to learn the names of flowers years ago when you found a book on them in an old bookstore but they never stuck. Purples, pinks, and yellows, large petals and small ones, delicate yet hardy to survive the world past its end.

Joel isn't a fussy man. Young fathers don't get to be, and anyone alive these days sheds that impulse just as quickly. He's happy to wake up every day with you by his side, his kid in the garage out back and walls around everything he loves, keeping it all safe.

It makes it both easy and hard to please him -- you want to give him everything but he seems to want nothing. A perfect paradox, a puzzle to solve. 

God, you love him. You love spring, you love Joel. Everything feels good.

So, you start to gather stems, snapping them at their bases, humming as you work.

"How do you choose which ones to pick?"

"Fuck," you gasp, careening forward onto one palm and looking over your shoulder. Ellie is off her horse and much closer than before, standing directly behind you. "Jesus, you're stealthy."

She shrugs, her smirk a pleased slash across her face. "You're oblivious as fuck."

You roll your eyes at her.

"Seriously," Ellie says, crossing her arms. She jerks her chin at the small bouquet you've got in one hand. "How do you make it look so nice?"

"Oh, so we've moved on from the making-fun-of-me part of this?"

She crouches next to you, elbows on her knees.

"I, uh -- " Her cheeks go pink, freckles standing out against her blush. "Dina likes flowers."

You bump her shoulder with yours. "I'm going to be so nice and not tease you."

"Fuck off," she scoffs, tucking her smile into her shoulder.

It's quick work. Ellie follows your lead, balances out the blooms she picks with some leafy weeds. She ties them together with one of the minimum four spare hairbands she has on her person at all times -- bits of cloth, occasionally a rare unused elastic from before if she's found some on patrol.

"Isn't it kinda shitty?" she muses, nimble fingers turning her bouquet this way and that to admire it. "We're killing them. The flowers, I mean."

"Little late to have a conscience about killing," you say lightly. The two rabbits she pulled from Jackson snares hang from her saddle. You've seen her in action, too -- gun raised, hands steady, blood splattered across her cheek. It's not an accusation, far from it. Violence is a language you both speak, one she's known for most of her still-short life.

She rolls her eyes, every bit a teenager. "Whatever."

You sigh. "You're right, though," you say. "There were whole shops dedicated to this before. Selling flowers, making bouquets and centerpieces and all that shit."

She probably knows this, but she lets you describe it. Ellie soaks up bits of the old world like it will materialize before her if she listens hard enough. Joel says it was much worse when she was younger, right after they settled into Jackson. She wanted details about everything and watched every movie she could get her hands on. You think she was satisfying her curiosity, sure, but also that she was trying to understand him better -- but didn't know how to say so.

"Weird," she mutters. "And you just...bought them for other people?"

"Or yourself." You pat her shoulder and stand. Your horse tries to nibble on your flowers before you haul yourself back in the saddle. "It was just a nice thing to do, I guess."

"Killing something to make someone else happy," Ellie says with a dry laugh. She tucks her bouquet in the crook of her arm once she's back in the saddle. "I guess everyone does that these days."

It's absurd when she puts it that way, but it's true. You've all got blood on your hands. You would kill for this girl, for Joel, for pretty much anyone in Jackson. And you have.

The flowers are for Joel, they're for your house, they're for you. Something beautiful to bring home alongside your dirt stains and scarred hands, your haunted eyes and nightmares. No one is spared those.

It's only mid-morning by the time you get back to the wall. You and Ellie left at dawn, short sticks drawn for the early shift. She leaves you in the stables with a mock salute and a shout of thanks, practically jogging to Dina's to give her the flowers.

You're untacking your horse when you hear familiar laughter, a deep chuckle and Ellie's faint indignant protest.

"Mornin'," Joel says from behind you. "Was hopin' to catch you at the gate."

"Can you hold these?"

You blindly extend the hand with the flowers. His fingers carefully extract the bouquet and you return to brushing out your horse.

"Does this have somethin' to do with Ellie runnin' out of her with flowers of her own?"

"Never let anyone say you're unobservant, Joel Miller."

He snickers. You leave your horse with a final pat on the neck and thanks for a job well done.

When you face Joel, he looks tired -- he's been pulling extra long days replacing windows and roof tiles after the winter's damage. God knows that man never seems fully rested, but it's a little worse when the seasons change.

He's told you time and time again that standing two stories off the ground is a hell of a lot safer than fighting some Infected on patrol, but you still worry. Just like you know he worries about you beyond the walls, how he's a little tenser whenever you're not in sight, whenever he hasn't seen Ellie for a few days ‘cause they're both busy. It's just how he loves. It's how you both love.

You make no move to take the flowers from him, instead brushing some sawdust from his shoulder.

"Did you have a job already?" you ask.

"Small one. Fixin' a crooked over mailbox." He looks pointedly at his full fist. "You gonna explain now?"

"They're for you."

Joel blinks once, twice, brows furrowing like you're speaking a different language. Maybe a few years ago you'd start to feel self-conscious, unsure of your romantic gesture and insecure in his reaction. But now, as fully in love and connected to this man as you are, you lean in.

"If you're too manly to carry flowers through town --"

You make to take them from him but he snaps out of his daze and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you to his chest in a smooth motion.

He also holds the bouquet in the air and out of reach.

"Hey, now," he says. "Hands off. These ain't your flowers."

"I picked 'em," you remind him, poking him in the ribs for good measure. 

He flinches just a little but doesn't move. His embrace is warm and familiar and you sink into it. "Gettin' romantic," he mutters and brings the flowers back down to eye level to examine them.

"I'm just trying to catch up to you," you say into his jacket. He huffs and his palm rubs a slow line up and down your arm.

You wiggle out of his embrace to shoulder your pack.

"I am pretty romantic," he muses.

It's true. Even if he's joking and even if no one but you gets to see it, Joel has always made sure you feel loved. Courtship and romance look different these days, but it still comes naturally to him -- loving. Dinner dates, jewelry, and trips to the airport have become a battered paperback, a sharpened knife, and bloody knuckles, but it rings just as true. He loves you and he loves his family the best way he knows how – by keeping you all safe.

And you do your best to convey the same thing. You tell him, of course, but you also mend his shirts and chop wood when his back is acting up, and you look after his kid like she's your own.

Joel deserves to know that he can receive all that he gives, too – the protection, the tenderness, the beauty. Moments of softness and rest where he knows he’s taken care of, thought of, that he matters beyond the things he can do for everyone else.

So, you also do things like bring him flowers.

Sometimes you feel like it will never be enough. You will never have enough time to show him how much he means to you, how he's saved you, how important and cherished and loved he is. How good he is.

Joel reaches for your face with his free hand. He traces the line of your cheekbone with his thumb and smirks when you inhale sharply. Another patrol returns and the stables are suddenly louder and more crowded than before. If you're both free for the rest of the day, you want to drag him up to your bedroom and spend the hours there. You want to show him, for the millionth time, how much you love him.

"Okay, Mr. Pretty Romantic," you say, grabbing his hand and tangling your fingers together. "Let's go home."

___

Joel is hiding something from you.

The flowers last for a week and you watch him eye them and smile every time he enters the kitchen.

But after they droop and go in the compost pile, something shifts. Something subtle, sure, but you spend most of your waking hours looking for or at Joel, so you notice.

He starts keeping his workshop door closed. Normally you'll sit and watch him work, or he'll teach you a few chords here and there on the guitars he's making, but your lessons move to the porch and the upstairs hallway loses the scent of wood glue and stain.

In fact, he actively steers you away from the room altogether. He's all just needs a deep clean and it's messy, is all. It's not rocket science -- he's making something for you, clearly. But giving him a hard time is too fun to pass up.

One night, you and Ellie wait at the bottom of the stairs. There's a dinner and movie night in the old church and you're taking the opportunity to make it a family outing.

"You coming?" you holler up the stairs. You hear the door creak open.

"Gimme a second," he calls back down.

"Jesus," you mutter. You tap the side of Ellie’s sneaker with your boot. "You know anything about that?"

Honesty is important between all of you, but you know Joel and Ellie need to have their secrets. There is too much tangled history between them for you to understand it all. It's important to you that they have a relationship all their own, even if it means they scheme.

Ellie is examining her switchblade with intense focus. "I might," she says with a smirk. "He's a lovesick loser, I'll tell you that."

You lean on the banister and raise your eyebrows. "Do you remember when you asked me how to embroider so you could put Dina's name on her jacket?"

The knife swings closed with a snick and she rolls her eyes at you, cheeks pink.

"Shit, dude," she says. "Why do I tell you anything?"

"She liked the flowers, though, didn't she?"

Ellie crosses her arms and smiles at whatever memory she's seeing in her mind. "Yeah," she says. "She did. Jesse gave me so much shit, though --"

The door upstairs closes and Joel's heavy footfalls cut her off.

"Finally," you grumble. He trods down the stairs, arms half in his jacket when he catches sight of the two of you. "Are you hiding state secrets in there?"

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ellie asks.

"Might be," is all he says. He's got that twinkle in his eye that means mischief but he looks proud of himself. You can let him have this, whatever this is. You trust him and you'll find out eventually.

"Alright," you say, pushing off the banister and heading for the door. "You're going to breathe toxic fumes with the door closed."

"No, seriously," Ellie says. "What kind of secrets would a state be keeping?"

"Ain't nothin' toxic in there," he says lightly. He bumps Ellie's shoulder with his. "C'mon."

She throws her hands up in the air. "You know, it's shitty when you ignore me."

"Did you hear somethin'?" Joel says to you.

You shake your head, swallowing your laughter. "No," you say. "Nothing."

"Assholes." She pushes past you and down the steps onto the street. "I'm going to make sure there are no mashed potatoes left when you get there."

__

You don't mind letting Joel do whatever he's up to in all of his spare moments. It does mean you have more time to yourself, so you pick up some extra wall shifts.

And when one of those shifts is with Tommy? Well, you can't help but needle him a little bit about it all.

"Do you know what your brother is up to?" you ask him.

The wind today carries some lingering winter bite, so you've got the collar of your coat pulled up around your ears. Tommy’s hair whips around his face when he raises his eyebrows at you.

"Gonna have to be more specific," he says. "My brother is always up to some shit."

"I think he'd say the same thing about you."

Tommy laughs. He's got the reputation for being the more easy-going of the Millers, but you know he's more a match for Joel than most think. Out in the world, they work as one, silent and deadly, always in step when it counts. They still speak a language all their own with just a look and you see so much of them in each other when you pay attention.

"Well, I learned it all from him," he says. He adjusts his grip on the rifle and sighs. "I happen to know what you're talkin' 'bout, though."

"Is he just telling everyone but me?"

"Nah," Tommy scoffs. "Asked me and Ellie for help, s'all. And you know he tells that girl everythin'."

You both smile for a moment at your fondness for them.

Tommy clears his throat. "Does it bother you? Him keepin' a secret?"

You know Tommy won't let your answer get back to Joel. He's asking as your friend, as your kind-of brother. He's asking because he cares.

A patrol crests the hill, green flag waving in the air. They whistle and shout for the gate to be opened. 

You step closer to Tommy so he can hear you. "No," you say. "I just like to gossip."

"Don't I know it," he chuckles. "You two are the eyes and ears of this damn town. Knowin' everything."

"Except what happens in my own home," you tease. 

He shrugs. "You'll like it, if that helps," he adds.

"I know I will."

You look out at the world beyond the wall and smile to yourself. 

Joel has made you a few things over the years. He works wonders with his hands all the time: Beautiful, intricate carvings for the house, for Ellie, for new babies in town. The wall of guitars, not to mention the ones he's made for kids to learn on in school. You're better at sewing than he is, but he's pretty damn good – fixing up pillowcases and blankets and clothes of all kinds. Joel is a craftsman.

Hands that hold you can also pull a trigger, punch until there's nothing left, and craft a work of art.

And he knows you. He pays attention -- there is a reason behind everything he does. If he's making you something, you know you'll love it.

"Strange, ain’t it?" Tommy says. You turn to him, a question on your face. "World ended and here we all are, happy. Makin' shit for each other. Gosspin'."

You sigh. “Took a lot to get here.”

“Damn right,” he says with a long whistle. “Lotta shit behind us.”

“Do you ever regret it?” you ask. 

Tommy considers your words. You two talk plenty, but you’ve never really spoken about the past. Joel tells you whatever you want to hear about the years before you knew him, so you’ve got a pretty good picture of their lives after the outbreak.

"Can I tell you somethin’?” Tommy asks. You nod. "Alright. I – I never thought I'd see my brother this happy again. And I wish every damn day that Sarah was here to see it. To know him this way, to meet Maria. To know you and Ellie."

Joel has said the same thing before and it’s an honor greater than you can ever explain.

"When I saw him and that girl a few years ago, I thought --" Tommy clears his throat. "I thought maybe he’d made it through all the shit we did. And I was right. She brought him through it. And now he’s here, doin’ stable life shit we dreamed about before."

"Ellie is a force," you say, a little surprised to find your voice watery. The love between Ellie and Joel is fierce and powerful, evident to anyone who witnesses it. They would do anything for each other, even though they're mending.

"She is," he says. "And so are you.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Shit, I don’t know where I’m goin’ with this. Point is – seein' him love you, too, shows me he’s through it. He's alive again, you know? And I’d do all the shit we did over again just to get us all here. So, no. I don’t regret it."

It’s nothing you haven’t thought before, but the words work their way into your heart and sit there, heavy and warm.

“Damn,” you say. You swallow and give him a wide smile. "If you keep going, Tommy Miller, I will start crying and that would embarrass us both."

He laughs and blinks a few times. You join in, wiping your eyes.

"Alright, I won't," he says. "Jesus, all you did was ask what he's doin' in that workshop."

You clap him on the shoulder. "I won't tell anyone you started blubbering on duty."

He snorts. "Ain't that generous of you.”

__

Days pass. A week. You almost forget about Joel's project because he spends less and less time in the workshop and more on tasks around town as the days get longer. You're both busy -- chopping wood, planting bulbs for the fall, helping de-shed the horses. There's always work to be done.

After a particularly long day on your feet, you come out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel to find he's gotten home while you were in the shower.

"Hey, stranger," you say. You're mostly dry but some water drips down your back and you shiver. Joel is leaning against the headboard on top of the sheets without his shirt, reading whatever book he's onto now.

"Didn't hear me come in?" he asks. He sets his volume aside and pulls off his glasses.

"I was too busy coming back to life under some hot water." He probably heard you singing off-key to some long-lost song stuck in your head for the millionth time. "And you're quiet as hell, Joel."

He shrugs.

You just look at each other, the intimate gaze of two people who know every inch of each other and never tire of it.

The sleep pants he wears to bed this time of year are lightweight, thin enough that you can see the outline of him from here. His stomach is soft where he's bent at the waist and the trail of hair above his waistband is dark, darker than the rest of what's on his chest.

The golden expanse of his skin just begs to be touched, so you make your way over to him in your towel. He makes room for you to perch on the edge of the bed, the bare skin of your thigh pressing into his pants. His palm rests on your knee.

"I haven't seen much of you lately," you say softly. "’Cause of that damn thing you're working on."

His fingers press into your skin.

"Ain't patience a virtue, or something like that?"

"Whatever magic you're working better be worth waiting for," you tease.

Joel's hand resumes its path up your leg and he smirks.

"I can work some magic right now," he says.

You laugh, throwing your head back as his fingertips edge under the towel.

"That was awful," you say. "I should get dressed in all of my layers right now and go sleep on the couch."

You pull away from his touch so you can straddle him, your towel only held on by one hand at your breasts.

Joel snickers. "But then I wouldn't be able to do this."

Nimble fingers find your cunt between your spread legs and you gasp a laugh, one hand on his shoulder to balance you in his lap.

"Smooth," you manage. His other hand tugs on the towel and you release it, your slightly damp skin breaking out into goosebumps in the air of the bedroom.

Joel drags his lips between your breasts and you feel his smile.

"Christ," he says. "You comin' outta there in just a towel and you expect me to go to sleep?"

He pulls his fingers from you and frames your face with both hands to drag it down to his in a lazy, thorough kiss, like he's savoring each moment.

His tongue traces the seam of your lips and you let him in readily, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you grind down on the hardness you can feel through his pants.

"I've missed you," you say, dragging your tongue along down his jaw. His fingertips press into your bare hips hard enough to bruise, but it's a grounding touch rather than an urgent one. You want to take your time because you have missed him, and you think he feels the same way.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Joel groans, dragging your lips back to his. "It'll be worth it."

You pull back to look him in the eyes. The hazel-grey is almost totally taken over by his pupil, but his gaze softens when you cup his cheek and smile.

"I know," you say, and mean it. Naked in his lap in your bedroom, you mean it. You always mean it. You always trust him.

Joel kisses you once, twice, and you pull on his lower lip with your teeth when he pulls away. His nostrils flare and before you can tug his cock from his pants, he holds two fingers out to you.

You laugh, circling his wrist and bringing the digits past your lips. You swirl your tongue around them and really take your time with it, laving at his knuckles before releasing them with a pop.

His cock twitches beneath you and he huffs.

"You're an easy man to please, Joel Miller," you tell him, tugging down his pants and letting his shaft spring free. You stroke him root to tip and he hisses.

"Nah," he manages. "It's ‘cause it's you."

He follows his words with a circle of your clit from his spit-slick fingers.

"See?" you gasp. "Romantic."

It's a bit crowded, his hand rubbing your clit and yours slowly jerking him, but neither of you rush it. You pant together, dotting lazy kisses on any piece of bare skin you can reach. You breathe him in, the combination of sweat and gun oil and fresh detergent that's just Joel. A rush of tenderness hits you so suddenly your nose stings.

"Joel," you say, a bit ragged. "Joel, can you --"

A gentle hand on your face brings your foreheads together, his eyes on yours.

"Whatever you want," he groans. "Whatever you want, it's yours."

You can't help it -- you laugh. Brightly and happily, almost in disbelief that this man is yours. Real and solid under you right now, beside you every night. Yours to love and cherish and all the rest.

"You laughin' at me?" he grumbles, though you can tell he's fighting a smile.

"I just love you, is all," you say. You probably don't say it enough. You and Joel show each other every day, so much so that you can't imagine he doesn't know. As it is, you feel loved by him with every move he makes, every time he looks in your direction, every time he says your name.

"And I want you to fuck me," you add.

It's Joel's turn to laugh.

"Now who's the romantic one?" he says. 

You rise from his lap and settle onto your back on the other side of the bed, stretching with your hands above your head.

His eyes follow the line of your bare body, fondness and hunger recognizable in his gaze.

"Always so damn pretty," he grumbles. "Prettiest thing I've ever seen."

"Flirt," you tease.

He rises to his knees and pumps his cock a few times with his fist. You spread your legs for him, knees bent up against your chest.

He settles between your knees and you lock them around his hips. Joel honest-to-god winks at you before dragging two fingers through your folds to make sure you're slick enough.

"Ready?"

You nod. He enters you in one practiced move and you groan in unison as you adjust. It takes some shuffling but he finds a position he can hold, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

Joel fucks you slow and deep. Each drag of his cock against your walls curls your toes and drags whines from both of your throats. He keeps up his usual babel -- doin' so good, feel like a dream, so damn tight, cunt's a fuckin' miracle -- and you press your hands into his bare back like he's a life raft.

Sweat beats on your brow, your chest, everywhere, and you suck bruises into his neck as his thrusts get a little frantic. Your own orgasm sneaks up on you, the pressure building and building and building until it snaps without warning.

"Joel -- Joel, fuck, I --"

You clench around him and he chants your name, that's it, baby, come on my cock, and buries himself to the hilt to finish inside you.

He hovers above you on trembling arms long enough to press a sweet kiss to your lips before rolling off of you.

"Now I'm ready for bed," you say, panting.

You fling a hand out lazily and it lands on his chest. He intertwines your fingers and his gaze finds yours. You smile as you get your breathing under control.

Joel smooths your brow with a thumb. "Don't forget to --"

"I know, I know," you say. "C'mon, you know this isn't my first rodeo." You get up from the bed and head to the bathroom.

"You sayin' I'm a bull?" Joel calls after you.

"Save a horse, ride a cowboy!" you holler back, cleaning yourself up. "Didn't people used to say that?"

Joel doesn't answer you but you laugh at your own joke. You make your way back to the bed in old pyjamas and find him back in his sweatpants, feet flat on the floor like he's about to get up and go somewhere.

"Joel?"

He sighs, his shoulders moving up and down like he's bracing himself.

"It's done," he says. "Your surprise."

The confession stops you in your tracks.

"Oh?"

You know Joel better than mosty, but sometimes he's still a puzzle. The hesitation, the slight air of anxiety about him as he says it confuses you. Because Joel is good at taking care of people, and he has to know it -- those years he and Ellie didn't speak you know he left her things, know that he took care of her from afar as much as she would let him. It's just what he does, he uses his hands to beat and shoot and bloody – but also to carve and hold and love.

They're the same thing, really.

And he's made you something – one of countless gifts he's given you, tangible and not, throughout your relationship.

But he's nervous. As if you wouldn't love anything he made, anything he does. As if you're not gone over every part of him.

"Hm," he says. "Yeah. Let me --"

Joel gets up from the bed and pads over to the dresser to rummage around in a drawer. You meet him back on the bed and he's holding a square-ish parcel wrapped in cloth.

You gingerly take it from him.

"This is what you've been working on?" you ask softly. He nods.

You unwrap the cloth and find yourself holding leather-bound journal. The hide is smooth under your fingertips, scraped clean by hand and tanned a dark chestnut.The spine is about an inch wide, the whole thing swen together with neat stitches of what can only be catgut. A thinner strip of leather is wrapped around the cover and tucked into itself carefully. It must have taken him ages to make. 

"Joel," you gasp. "It's...god, it's beautiful."

He tells you how he found it on patrol a few weeks ago. The cover was fucked but the paper was somehow fine, so he dried out the pages and rebound it with a hide he tanned himself. You run your hands over it again almost like you can feel his fingerprints all over it, the hours he poured into the pages.

The inside cover falls open easily when you undo the tie and you see letters in the bottom left corner of it. Your eyes sting.

Joel has carefully burned your name into the leather, each letter perfectly lined up with the next. You haven't had something with your name on it in years.

He clears his throat. "Ellie said she'd give you some of her pens. Show you how to refill 'em."

You look up from your gift and find so much love on his face you can hardly stand it. He was inside you not that long ago and somehow this is more intimate. You surge forward into his space and wrap an arm around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck.

"I don't know what to say," you confess. "Just -- thank you."

He runs his hand along your spine.

"S'nothin'," he says. "Just saw it and thought of you, is all."

You release him and shake your head in disbelief. This man.

"What should I write in it?"

Joel's cheeks darken a little. Of course he's thought of everything.

"Figured you could write about...all this." He waves a hand in the air like that explains anything.

"All what?"

He shrugs one bare shoulder.

"Life," he says. "Jackson. Folks here. Might be nice, havin' the memories."

You scoot closer to him so you're almost in his lap again.

"You want me to write down the gossip?" You mean it as a joke but Joel nods.

"You pay attention," he explains. "Someone's gotta."

You're not much of a writer anymore, haven't had cause to be in twenty years. But you do like to tell stories. You both do. 

The pages are soft under your fingertips as you flip through them again. You're going to fill them with stories -- about this town, about Joel and Ellie and Tommy and the people you love. The people you've lost, too. The memories that hurt like bruises, like fresh wounds. But the good stuff, too. The gossip, the love stories, the plants in the yard and the flowers on the trails.

Joel has given you the ability to record your lives.

You reach over him to set the journal on the nightstand before you frame his face with both of your hands.

"I'm going to write pages and pages about you, Joel Miller," you whisper.

He huffs, cheeks warm under your palms. "That's borin'."

You shake your head and lean in until your lips brush and your eyes flutter shut.

"That's the story," you say. "That's my life. This is my life. You are."

“I love you,” he breathes. “So damn much. Y’know that?”

How could you not? You say so and kiss him firmly but without hurry. You’ve got lots of time. You’ve got forever.

[kelppsstuff]

Reading your recent post actually made me tear up, in public of all places, I want to give the two of em some.. uh.. comfort

New resident in Charlie's hotel! Who might it be?

Well, since sir pentious can rise, another can go down, right?

Let's say that the reader might've killed one demon before when she joined them in their exterminations

It makes me wonder so damn bad what'll lute and Adam react when they see this demon, the painstakingly similar in body, height, physique darling who, even when damned to hell, still kept her sweetheart personality

This is to soothe the sadness I felt from reading that

“I’m so fucking sorry!” Part two

Part One | Part Two

Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of death.

Summery: After you die for Lute and Adam they find how your reborn a sinner.

Taglist: @lutesb1tch @strawberryclumsy @fandomsbookclub @adamsfavoritesinner @mimmieme

When you died you didn’t expect for you to be reborn a sinner. You had lived an after-life of pure righteousness. The only thing you had ever done was defend yourself and accidentally killed a sinner. So to say you were shocked was an understatement.

You wanted to see Adam and Lute again, but you knew how they felt about sinners. Would they just toss you aside?

You knocked of the newly build hotel, nervous. The door opened and the Princess opened the door. She immediately knew who you were. You looked the same besides slightly larger black wings and the horns on your head. “I had no where else to go.” You voice small and timid.

You waited for her to slam the door in your face but instead she smiled brightly. “I’m so happy you’re okay! I felt so sorry about you death. And some how I even felt sorry for Adam.” She mumbled the last sentence but I still caught it. Adam.

He hated sinners the most. Sure Lute could maybe get behind the fact your one now but she had known Adam longer. Would she choose him over you. If it came down to a choice you’d want her to choose him, so neither of them stayed alone.

“Can I stay for a bit?”

The princess hugged you and showed you around.

—

You had spent the next month getting situated. You found it hard to look in the mirror. You looked so different. A new feature that you had was fangs. They slightly stuck out every now and then. But you noticed when you got mad they’d grow along with your horns.

Today was the same as every other. Wake up, clean around the bar, show sinners to there rooms, go to sleep. Though as you were looking down at the room booking book you heard a voice. A very familiar voice.

“Room for two.”

Adam. You looked up in shock and saw him there Lute right by him. You could see the glare in his eyes.

Adam hadn’t recognized you. But the woman beside him did immediately. Lute felt a sense of happiness wash over her as she saw you. She didn’t care about your new look. All she cared about was that you were here.

The two originally came to completely destroy the hotel and every time they’d rebuild it they wanted to tear it down again.

“A-Adam.” You turned your head to Lute tears of joy and shock in your eyes. “Lute.” Lute gave you the brightest smile you ever saw and was quick to jump over the desk, hugging you.

Adam at first was about to question the hell out of Lute. But when your voice replayed in his head he felt the weight on his chest lift. Was it really you? Did god hear his pleas? “Y/N?” Adam asked, he had to be sure, if this was some joke he’d tear down heaven and hell both.

You looked up over Lutes shoulder and smiled nervous at him. “Hi Adam.” He could hear the nerves in your voice but he didn’t give a shit.

He — just like Lute — jumped over the table and hugged you both. You could feel the breath leaving your body as they started to held you too tight. But you didn’t pull away, finally happy, finally with them. Your heaven. “I missed you guys.” You said to the two. Voice full of love.

“Fuck, I can’t believe you died on us. That totally did not rock.” Leave it to Adam to make his two girls laugh.

Adam felt joy, it had been the first time Lute laughed since the incident. Adam always tried to crack a joke to make her smile, but it was always dimmed.

“I’m a sinner now.” You were scared. This was the moment you were prepared for them to turn their backs on you. But you should have known better, they’d never turn their backs on their sun.

“We couldn’t care less.” Lute pulled away from the hug and cupped you cheek, leaving a friendly kiss on your lips. “Yeah listen to her hot stuff.” Adam spoke and he kissed your other cheek.

Finally with the people who you belonged with.

—

Over the next course of months Adam and Lute would visit you. They talked to Sera and gave the okay on the Hotel. But even if Sera said no, they’d still visit you and every now and then bring a certain snake occasionally.

They two angels had started to noticed you avoiding mirrors and when you saw one you’d just stare at yourself until someone pulled you away.

They watch you look at you reflection out the window. The two sat on your bed, staring at you worried.

Adam was the first to speak, filling the silence in the room. “You okay babe?”

We’re you okay? You didn’t know.

Nothing about you was okay anymore, so you thought. Your white pure angelic wings were now tarnished in black. You’d lost your halo. Nothing about that was okay. But you’d put on a show for them.

“I’m okay, Adam.” You’d never really called Adam and Lute by their names unless you were worried. You’d call Adam, apple and Lute, wild girl. “No your not.” Lute said in her knowing voice. You sighed, you can’t really hide anything from them can you?

“I’m hideous. I’m a sinner, I should be holy and yet I’m a monster.” You could feel the tears looking at your words.

“Your not a monster.” Lute tried to comfort you.

“LOOK AT ME!” You turned to them, horns bigger than normal, fangs longer, eyes glowing red. “This is who I am now!” “And I love you just the same.” She spoke as she made her way to you. Adam unusually quiet.

“How could you love me, when I don’t even love myself?”

Adam shook his head in disbelief at your words. He got off the bed and made his way to you. Cupping your cheeks and looking tenderly into your eyes he spoke. “You should know better than anyone that loving someone isn’t a choice, it’s a gift. You loved me at my worse, of course we would love you through hell and back.” He leaned down and placed a familiar kiss onto your lips. He wrapped an arm around your neck and his other around Lute, pulling you all into a comforting hug.

Maybe, maybe everything would be okay. And maybe Adam and Lute really did love you still.

Who are we kidding, let’s stop with the maybes. They loved you more than ever.

—

HI I’m sorry if this was a bit short, but i hope it brought you the comfort you wanted! Thank you for liking this little journey with Adam, Lute, and Reader. Have a great day! 💛

And a little extra!

You smiled as you squeezed Lutes hand. She had done so good bringing a little girl into the world.

Adam cut the umbilical cord while you took care for of Lute. Adam looked up to you smiling and gestured for you to come to him. “I’ll be right back you wild girl.” You whispered to Lite and walked over to Adam. You looked at the crying baby, she looked just like her dad ironically. “Hold her.” Adam whispered to you. You turned to him in shock. What? You would have thought Adam would want to be the first person to hold his daughter. “Go on.”

You picked her up and started to rock her, bringing her over to Lute, Adam putting his hands on your shoulders lovingly, before giving a kiss to Lute.

Lute cried while she held her baby. Adam crying as well, and gosh you were practically sobbing in happiness.

Some would think you’d be jealous over the two, but that wasn’t the case. You all loved each other equally and you would love that kid as if she were your own. “What’s her name?” The only thing the two had held off on telling you. You didn’t know why, but you were excited to hear what to call the little chipmunk.

Adam and Lute looked to each-other smiling before turning there heads to you.

“Y/N.” The two spoke together and you swore your heart stopped. “What?”

“Y/N. After the person to show us what heaven really is.” Tears flew down your face as you all FOUR hugged.

When little Y/N turned 1, you had been pregnant with two twins on the way. This is what a happy ever after really is. You all three though as you watched Little Y/N playing in the sand. Adam and Lute holding your belly.

—

THANK YOU FOR THE IDEA! This was such a cute scene to write! 💛

Taglist

[mypoisonedvine]

NEED to read zemo/bucky/reader and I feel like you would nail it!!!! maybe with 98?? LOVE YOU J.D!!!!!!!!

oh my god I haven't written a threesome in SO LONG and of course this turned into a whole oneshot UGH. oops

98: "what happens next in your fantasy?"

warnings: smut (18+ ONLY!!!), threesome, oral m and f receiving, spitroast, overstimulation, hair pulling, slapping, degradation and praise, brief mention of smoking?, basically just nastiness with almost no plot at all!!

word count: 4.4k

100 random prompts - send me a number and a character!

"I shouldn't have said anything, okay?" you whined, hoping he'd drop the subject-- and Zemo walked in right then, which seemed like the perfect opportunity to change the topic.

"What shouldn't you have said?" Zemo pressed, and you sighed.

"It's-- it's nothing," you shook your head, "I just had a really weird dream last night."

"About?"

You wanted to end it there, but Bucky had to chime in, of course. "Let's just say, this dusty old apartment was getting to see some action for the first time in a few decades," he informed Zemo proudly, who smiled knowingly and continued his walk to the kitchen.

"Ah," Zemo nodded, "I see."

"I swear, I've never had a dream about you like that before," you explained to Bucky.

"I wouldn't take it too personally, James," Zemo suggested as he poured himself some tea. "The subconscious is a completely unpredictable place. We can dream about almost anything, whether or not we desire it in waking life."

"Well, see, that's the weird part," you admitted, shifting nervously in the chair as Bucky stared at you. "You were there, too."

That took his attention away from the tea, certainly; he set down the kettle and came back into the sitting area, leaving his cup behind. "Still, many people believe dreams have meaning... I happen to be one of those people," he added.

"You didn't mention that before," Bucky frowned at you.

"Well, I was going to..."

"I was there, doing what?" Zemo pressed.

"Sitting in the corner reading Machiavelli," you joked. "No, you were, you know... part of it..."

"How was it?" Zemo asked instantly, getting yours and Bucky's eyes on him then.

"Huh?"

"In the dream, having both of us," he clarified, "did you enjoy the experience?"

"U-um, I mean, I don't really remember..." you coughed.

"I don't think that's true," Zemo grinned. "You're wearing it on your face now— is that why you couldn't look at me this morning in the hallway?"

Your face got warmer. "Do I normally look at you?" you deflected.

"More than you realize," he answered cryptically.

"So, it was good," Bucky assumed. "It's obvious, you can just admit it."

You did hesitate, biting on one of your nails, but you nodded, and they both smiled. "Yeah, it was... it was really good..."

"Which one of us was better?" Bucky wondered. "It was me, right?"

"You were... I don't know, you were just different," you shrugged.

"Ugh, that's such a cop-out," Bucky rolled his eyes. "Don't be afraid to hurt his feelings."

"No, really— it's hard to compare," you insisted. "You were sort of, you know, sensitive and... patient, and you—" you looked at Zemo— "were kind of... intense."

Zemo smirked. "I've been told that before, actually. I mean, by people who got the real experience."

Bucky looked with a concerned expression over his shoulder at Zemo. You found yourself biting your lip for a moment.

"I know you won't answer this question, but I have to ask," Zemo began, "did you climax?"

"Oh god," you whined, hiding your face behind your hands.

"See? She did," Zemo smiled, maybe wider than you'd ever seen. "Perhaps even more than once."

"Please shut up," you groaned.

"Holy shit," Bucky smirked, "you really liked it, huh?

"What do you say, James?" Zemo prompted, looking at Bucky, and making you get a little wide-eyed. "Shouldn't we give the girl what she wants?

"Isn't that, uh— I mean, wouldn't that be... weird?" Bucky stammered, cheeks flushing.

"You're so sheltered," Zemo mocked with a small laugh. "Sharing a partner is very thrilling when the correct amount of trust is involved."

"Wait, wait— it was just a dream, I wasn't, you know, suggesting it," you explained nervously.

"I know," Zemo replied, "I am."

There was a tense pause, where all you could hear was your own beating heart.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Zemo offered, “I know it’s a strange thing to say.  Just come here, darling.”

Though your legs were shaking, you got up off the chair and approached him slowly.  He met you in the middle, reaching up to quickly caress your jaw when you were close enough.  Bucky seemed to watch the whole thing in disbelief.  “I-I’ve never—” you began.

“It’s alright,” Zemo assured you softly, “I won’t judge you, or mock you— there’s nothing wrong with what you want.”

You nodded slightly, another form of silent permission, and he leaned in to kiss you— gentle at first, but strong enough to make your knees feel a little weak.  He deepened it quickly, putting a hand at your waist as his tongue began to tease your lips… but just when you pressed into him, ready for more, he pulled away.  He smirked at the way you leaned forward for a moment, but then he looked over at Bucky— you couldn’t quite read his expression, perhaps a bit of disbelief and… more than a decent share of arousal.

He stood up, and stepped up to you two, and you could tell he was in over his head— but you pulled him closer by his shirt, sighing as your hand felt his chest through the black fabric.  “I— I’m not sure how to—” he mumbled.

“Me either,” you smiled, “just kiss me, Bucky…”

He did, though he seemed slightly less confident about it.  What started as a shy and soft kiss turned into something more almost instantly— something hungry.  He pulled you closer by your waist, he slipped his tongue into your mouth; it was clear, somehow, that he had been waiting for this chance for longer than you realized.

You gasped into Bucky’s kiss when you felt Zemo’s lips on your neck.  There were four hands on you, running over your body, and you were struggling to keep track of which belonged to who…

Zemo pulled you off of Bucky and spun you around, kissing you roughly again.  He was less careful this time, and he was reaching up under your shirt as well; you whimpered a bit, arching your back instinctively and pushing your ass into Bucky’s— oh fuck, he was hard.  You couldn’t believe how worked up you were already.

Zemo groped at your chest, purring as he tweaked a nipple between his fingers.  You whined and pressed your legs together, feeling him smile before he broke away to look at you with a sparkle in his eye.

“So sensitive,” he praised as he pushed your shirt up to get a good look at you; he sighed at the sight, both hands cupping your breasts and massaging them carefully.  “You’re so beautiful…”

When his hands moved down, Bucky’s took their place; you shivered a little at the metal hand’s cool touch, but it was actually more of a relief than anything considering how hot you’d become.  He was a little more aggressive with the way he touched your tits— if not quite rough.  He was panting in your ear as he held and rubbed them; and Zemo was already pulling your pajama shorts down, exposing you even further… god, why did it turn you on so much.

“Look at you,” Zemo praised with a sigh, running his hands up and down your body.  “I know you must be so wet already, darling, look how desperate you are… you’ve been wet since you woke up from that naughty dream, haven’t you?”

You didn’t have to answer— he was already putting his hand between your legs, exploring your folds, both of you groaning at how slick and sticky you were.  “Fuck, I can hear it,” Bucky noticed, and you clenched inside as he said it.

Zemo gently pushed a finger into you— but you were so wet it didn’t even feel like a push, it felt like your hole just sucked him in.  He was looking right into your eyes as he did it, but that was a little too much to handle for you, mentally, so you let your eyes fall shut just before he slipped the finger back out again.

"Feel inside her, James," Zemo encouraged, "she's so warm."

Bucky sighed, rubbing his fingers around your entrance. "I-I'm going to," he mumbled in your ear, "but... not 'cause he told me to or anything."

You whined when two vibranium fingers pushed inside you, making you lean back against Bucky while Zemo’s hands pushed your shirt up even higher, giving him better access to put his mouth on your tits.  “F-fuck,” you sighed, putting a hand on the back of Zemo’s head as he swirled his tongue around your nipple— he was incredibly, annoyingly good at that, but then again, so was Bucky with the way he gently opened you up with his fingers.  “Oh my god, just like that,” you panted.

“Who are you talking to?” Bucky wondered.

“Both of you,” you whined, “fuck, don’t stop.”

Zemo moved his mouth to your other nipple, suckling harder at it, making your hips rock on Bucky’s fingers; and Bucky growled approvingly, starting to thrust them a little more confidently inside you.  “I can’t believe you didn’t soak through those shorts, doll,” Bucky whispered in your ear, “you’re drenched.  You wanted this that bad?”

You could only nod dreamily, too lost in the feeling.

Though you weren’t sure how they coordinated it, they both stopped touching you at the same time; you whined quietly, clenching inside as you longed for either of their fingers to fill you again.

“Take the rest of it off,” Zemo instructed you— but it wasn’t too firm, more just a… friendly suggestion.  “Let us see all of you.”

Stepping out of your shorts that had fallen to the floor and pulling your shirt up over your head, you tried to fight the urge to cover yourself— after all, here you were naked in Zemo’s living room, with two fully clothed men eyeing you up and down.  It was hard not to feel… scrutinized.

"What happens next in your fantasy?" Zemo purred.

"I-it's not my fantasy, it was just a dream," you insisted.

"Then let me ask you another way: what happens now?"

Instead of answering with words, you simply sank down to your knees in front of them, keeping eye contact with Zemo as you started to open his belt.

The smug look on his face should’ve driven you crazy, but it only pushed you further; Bucky, thankfully, seemed to get the idea of what was going on and began to open his belt and jeans for you.  You loved his eagerness, even if the way Zemo seemed content to just let you do all the work was a turn-on, too.

Soon enough, there were two hard cocks in front of you.  Just the idea of that was already intimidating— but both of them, at eye-level, was actually nearly overwhelming.  You took hold of them both, stroking slowly to try to wrap your head around this as easily as you could wrap your hands around them.

Not sure where to start, you did a mental coin toss and found yourself leaning towards Zemo first, wrapping your mouth around his tip and letting your eyes fall shut.  Zemo hummed, pushing your hair back as you bobbed your head. You only sucked him for a few seconds before switching over to Bucky, though you tried to keep a hand stroking each one while you moved back and forth.

It felt filthy and strange and surreal, but your biggest concern was that you were going to get so wet you’d start dripping onto the floor or something.

Yes, you’d watched porn like this before, but you never really thought you’d end up doing it— especially with these two.  You felt pretty comfortable assuming they never thought this would happen, either… but they got into it shockingly quickly: soon, you weren’t even the one deciding where you went, they simply got more and more impatient and began to guide you back and forth.  You blinked your eyes open a few times to look up at them, but in the end you found yourself totally lost in it, just leaving your mouth open them and letting them take turns fucking it until you weren’t sure who was who anymore.

Not much was said (least of all by you, with your mouth full) aside from a few mumbled curses here and there— except for one moment, where Zemo seemed to mutter to Bucky: “I don’t think she expected to like this so much.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong.  You were drooling, with tears striping your face— a side effect from repeatedly choking on both of them— and you were nearly desperate enough to rub yourself

Though you weren’t sure how or when Zemo had gotten in your head like this, you had to admit it was convenient right now; “You want more, don’t you?” he noticed, and all you had to do was nod before they pulled you up to your feet.  Zemo bent you over quickly, before you’d even really found your balance, and stood behind you.

You gasped as Zemo’s cock slid inside you suddenly, holding on tight to Bucky’s arms for balance— immediately you were rocked forward with hard, needy thrusts.  

“God, she’s so fucking wet,” Zemo hissed.  You hadn’t really heard him talk quite like that before…

You groaned at the feeling, amazed at how easily he fit inside, but clearly all the anticipation had prepared you well.  Bucky only let you have a second to adjust before he shoved your head back down and pushed his cock into your waiting mouth.  You were happy to oblige, though, and sucked him even more eagerly than before with fast bobs of your head and more pressure from your tongue.

Bucky’s fingers tangled into your hair, and his hips pushed forward to fuck deeper into your throat; you heard him groan, but it was muffled as he bit his lip.  You gagged, and they both moaned lowly.  “I can feel when you choke on him,” Zemo informed you with a grunt, “your little cunt squeezes me tighter.”

It must have been Zemo’s hand that slid up your spine and held onto your shoulder— it must have been Bucky that reached down to feel your tits— but if was your hand that ended up between your legs, rubbing your clit quickly simply because you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore.

“So desperate,” Zemo mocked— or praised, maybe?  The difference was hard to define.  “You want to come?”

You hummed in agreement around Bucky’s cock, before he forced you to choke on it again.  You never expected him to be so aggressive, nor how much it would make you crave even more.

“If you want a turn with her, James, you’d better take it now,” Zemo offered, voice thin as he tried to catch his breath.  “Any more of that and I won’t be able to stop myself again.”

Bucky roughly pulled you off of Zemo and sat back on the couch, turning you around to face away from him and pulling you into his own lap; that doll nickname felt a bit more literal when he tossed you around so easily.

You gasped as Bucky slid inside, and moaned as you realized you could so easily feel the difference between them.  “Fuck!” you cried out loudly, louder than you really meant to, as Bucky instantly began bouncing you on top of him; you were trying to move with him, but he was so much stronger and basically just using you however he wanted… it made you moan even more and roll your eyes back in your head as you realized that.  “Fuck, Bucky, oh my god—”

“See how much louder she screams for me?” Bucky grinned.

“That’s because her mouth isn’t full this time,” Zemo countered with a laugh.  “That can be corrected.”

Bucky was certainly much more… impatient in the way he fucked you; Zemo, meanwhile, was as controlled as ever as he guided you to lean forward, gently opened your mouth, and slid just his leaking head inside.  He purred as you suckled at the tip, looking up at him with watering eyes.

“Can you taste yourself?” Zemo asked you with a smile, humming when you nodded around him.  “You really soaked me, darling— I expect you to be a good girl and clean all that off.”

You moaned at the praise and took him deeper into your mouth, using your tongue to lick up every drop of your own wetness off of him.  You surprised even yourself with how shameless you were, pulling your mouth off to run your tongue over him instead, moaning as you licked him clean.

Bucky fucked up faster into you until you could barely focus on the task before you, but you still found a way: you kept Zemo’s cock in your mouth and let him hold your head, keeping you steady while Bucky moaned louder and thrusted harder.

You moaned more and more around Zemo until he pulled you away and you gasped instantly.  “Tell me how it feels,” he demanded harshly, holding your head up by your hair.

“So good,” you yelped, “it’s so fucking good!”

He surprised you with a slap across the face, but you moaned right away.  “Fucking whore,” he spat.  “Look how badly you need to be treated.  You want to come, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you sobbed, “yes, fuck, please—”

“Well, James,” Zemo hissed, “aren’t you going to help her?”

Bucky sighed and moved one of the hands on your hips down between your legs, rubbing you quickly and harshly.  Your thighs were shaking instantly; actually, pretty much all of you was shaking.

“She’s coming, James, don’t stop,” Zemo barked out another order, holding you tight by the jaw and looking right into your eyes.  “I want you to come until you can’t possibly take it anymore,” he explained with a growl, “don’t tell me to make him stop until then, is that clear?  Show us how much you can take, nothing less.”

You nodded as best you could with him holding onto your face, and tried to lean in to put your mouth on his cock again, but he held you there.

“No,” he corrected, “I’d rather get a good look at this.”

Bucky’s hand on your clit was relentless, the pressure almost too intense for you to take— but you had to take it, you had no other choice.  It started off almost slowly, a gradual descent into the numbing pleasure of your orgasm, but it didn’t stop; Zemo already made it clear he wasn’t going to let it stop until you were at your limit.  Your moans were shaky and broken from how hard Bucky was fucking you, and your eyes were rolling back already but you could’ve sworn you heard Zemo chuckle at the sight of you.  Did you really look that fucked up?

“Good girl,” he purred, “keep going.  You can take more.”

You whined louder, higher, sharper; you weren’t sure how much more you really could take of this, but you wanted to do as you’d been told and not tap out until the absolute last second.

You knew you were crying, only because you felt the hot tears running down your cheeks.  You heard Zemo encouraging you distantly, but you couldn’t quite make out any words, just the dark and sweet tone of his voice.  You heard Bucky, too, groaning deeply while you felt his fingers digging tighter into your hips.  Could he feel everything he was putting your body through?

“Fuck, stop!” you heard yourself blurt out, and instantly Bucky’s hand moved away— but his thrusts didn’t slow down.  It was just the right amount of relief, and you blinked the blurriness out of your vision.  It was almost like part of it didn’t even really hit you until then, until the aftershocks reverberated through your body.

“That’s it,” Zemo praised, “you’re alright, we’ve got you.”

“Oh god, o-oh god,” you sobbed, shaking uncontrollably— they were both holding you up, you would’ve toppled to the floor if it weren’t for them

“Fuck, m’gonna come,” Bucky groaned.

“Inside,” you gasped, even with how little mental clarity you had in that moment.  “I want it inside.”

“Fuck,” he said again.  “That’s so— god, baby, look what you fuckin’ do to me… I’m gonna come inside you.”

“Yes,” you begged with a sob, Zemo grinning as he watched you.  

Still numb and clenching uncontrollably inside, you felt the way he pumped harder and harder and harder— until it slowed down and he let out the most delicious, long groan.  You whined, but smiled, as he loosened his grip on your hips and relaxed under you, his moans and heavy breaths seeming to drip with satisfaction.  “Fuck,” he said, one more time, deeper than ever, before falling back on the couch limply.

Zemo lifted you off of Bucky— apparently a little sooner than he was ready for, because you heard him hiss as he slipped out of you— and guided you with him onto the couch, pulling your back into his chest.  He knelt behind you, kissing the back of your shoulder as watched you try to come back to reality.

“I should let you rest for a moment,” he noticed, “but you don’t want me to, do you?”

Weakly, you shook your head.

He moved in closer to you and you felt his cock, still wet with your spit, rub against the inside of your thigh— and even after all that, you arched your back deeper in invitation.

It made you blush when Zemo slid into you again, thinking about him filling you alongside Bucky’s load, especially with the way he groaned lowly into your ear.  “You want me to fuck his come even deeper into you?” he taunted, and you whined but nodded.  “I thought so.”

Everything felt so… sticky, in a disgusting but sexy sort of way; you were overly-sensitive inside, each thrust feeling so good with the fading sensitivity of your orgasm still present.  You leaned back against Zemo with a sigh, letting him hold you close and fuck you however he wanted, more than happy to just be his toy now.

“Look how cute you are when you give in to me.  You want me to use you, don’t you?” he noticed with a groan, and you whimpered but nodded ‘yes.’  “Of course,” he growled, kissing along your neck with more and more of his teeth each time.  “You want me to fuck you however I want?”

“Yes,” you sobbed.

“But this isn’t about what I want,” he explained.  “This is what you wanted.”

“Oh god…”

“You wanted us both to fuck you, at the same time.  One cock isn’t enough to satisfy you?” 

“Not anymore,” you admitted with a sigh, and he started to thrust faster and harder into you.

It turned very quickly from slow and sensual to rough and ruthless; he wrapped a hand around your neck to keep you close as you moaned and cried, anxious already to come again.  “Touch yourself,” he ordered with a hiss in your ear, “make yourself come around my cock.”

“F-fuck,” you choked out, but slid a hand over your body and between your legs to obey him quickly.  You were already so fucking close, and you knew you shouldn’t go so hard on yourself when you were so sensitive, but your desperation made you really rub hard and fast in search of that growing tension.  “Yes, fuck, m’gonna— oh god—”

“I know, darling,” he cooed, “just let go.  It’s alright, I’ll hold you— come for me.”

You didn’t literally black out, but you did sort of… lose time, in that moment.  It was like you were just floating in pleasure for a while and then all of a sudden you were laying back on the couch and you weren’t even sure where Bucky had gone and Zemo was proudly holding your legs open.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he informed you, and you blinked back at him shyly.

You expected the warm, sticky feeling as their come leaked out of you… what you didn’t expect to feel was Zemo’s mouth on your pussy, eagerly lapping it up and sucking on your clit as your eyes shot open and you gasped and moaned with surprise.

“Dude,” Bucky grimaced, “that’s fucked up…”

Zemo just hummed and took his mouth off of you, giving Bucky a confused look.  “She tastes amazing,” Zemo defended, “maybe even better after our… contribution.”

You laughed a little at the description, until he leaned down and latched onto you again, making you gasp and run your fingers through his hair.  “Fuck,” you whined, bucking your hips against his face.  Your clit was already overstimulated, and the way that he flicked it with his tongue made you shiver all over.  

Your hold on his hair made it a little easier to push him away when he sucked too hard on your sore clit; he was more than strong enough to keep going, but he stopped anyways and let you push him back with a smug, slickened smile.  “You really should try it, James,” he encouraged, “you’ll only want more once you do.”

Sighing in relent, Bucky knelt down in front of the couch— yes, at some point he’d gotten off of it, and you were too high on orgasm dopamine to notice it— and Zemo helped you adjust your hips towards him so he could just dive right in.

He gave one long lick over you first, making you shudder, and seemed to get more excited and aggressive quickly as he held onto your thighs and started to push his tongue inside you.  “Oh god,” you whimpered, and Zemo watched proudly for a moment before turning his head to kiss up your leg.

“Poor thing,” he cooed between gentle presses of his lips to your skin, “you probably thought we were done with you, didn’t you?”

~

You were on the couch nursing a cup of tea, your feet resting in Bucky’s lap on top of the pants he’d changed into after his shower; Zemo was on the balcony having a cigarette.  That was the scene Sam came back to, and he seemed to notice something was off just by the way he raised an eyebrow as he entered the living room.  “Hey guys,” he greeted.  “What did I miss?”

“Not much,” Bucky shrugged, “just a pretty quiet morning…”

[mrsshabana]

Always the groomsman, never the groom

♡ CW: 18+ MDNI, Female!reader x Gyutaro, mostly fluff and angst, some smut. Reader is a groomsmaid and Gyutaro is a groomsman.

♡ AN: I was a bridesmaid at a wedding this weekend so it inspired me to make this oneshot!

Gyutaro had been a groomsman at numerous weddings. All of his friends getting married, yet he couldn't even manage to ask a girl out.

And here he is yet again at another wedding. This time it was Akaza getting married. Gyutaro didn't know his husband to be very well, but he remembers him from college. Kyojuro Rengoku.

Gyutaro was happy for his friend, but he couldn't help but be a little jealous. He wants more than anything to fall in love and someday get married, but all he was able to manage was the occasional hook up. And even that was rare.

He's not too fond of hook ups, but he's so desperate for any kind of affection that he's willing to do almost anything. And no matter how hard he tries to get to know someone, they always leave before he can wake up in the morning. Leaving him alone, yet again. At this point he's convinced that's how things were meant to be.

Gyutaro can't help but wonder if he would be able to meet someone at the wedding. But is it really worth the inevitable heart break? When he sees you he starts to think that it might be.

You're a part of the wedding party on Kyojuro's side, you must be one of his close friends. Gyutaro immediately notices how beautiful you are. And the way your breasts look in that dress isn't bad either.

Gyutaro's breath hitches when he finds out you'll be partnered with him during the ceremony. He's not sure whether to be excited or filled with dread that he get's paired with the one person he was crushing on.

You remember he wasn't able to make it to the rehearsal so you had to practice with someone else, but now that he's here you might as well introduce yourself.

"Hi there! I'm Y/N," you say in a friendly tone, reaching out your hand, "It's nice to meet you, looks like we'll be paired for the ceremony."

"H-hey," he reaches out and shakes your hand, "I'm Gyutaro."

You give him a recap of everything they told you at the rehearsal, "So it's super easy, you'll just follow the other guys down the aisle. Then after the ceremony, Akaza and Kyojuro will walk down the aisle. Then each of us will get with our partners and walk down the aisle after them."

"So... I just walk over to you and uh...?" He's trying to pay attention but he keeps staring at your boobs.

You smile, "We'll go after Douma and Shinobu. Once they get halfway down the aisle we'll walk to the middle, latch arms, and walk together. You can just follow my lead," You try to make it make sense but it's hard to explain since he wasn't there for the rehearsal.

"Oh ok, cool. Sounds easy enough," he says as he has absolute no clue what to do.

When it comes time for the ceremony to start, it goes pretty smoothly. Gyutaro just follows the other guys' lead. The whole ceremony is really beautiful and you feel yourself tearing up when Akaza and Kyojuro read their vows to each other.

After they kiss and walk down the aisle, you look over at Gyutaro. He knows what to do right?

His palms are sweaty and he can't remember for the life of him what he's supposed to do. He's lucky Douma goes before him so he can see what he's supposed to do.

The two of you meet in the middle and you lock arms with him, "What'd you think of the ceremony?" you whisper to him as you walk down the aisle together.

"It was real nice, I'm happy for them," He smiles, trying to hide the shakiness in his voice.

You, Gyutaro, and the rest of the wedding party wait around to take photos while the rest of the guests have the reception.

The whole time Gyutaro's thoughts are running rampant. You were so nice to him! No girl has ever been so kind to him, but maybe you were just being nice? There's no way you have a crush on him or something. That'd be absurd, you've only known him for a few hours.

He has no way of knowing that you actually find him very handsome, especially in that suit he's wearing. He has a je ne sais quoi about him. Something unique that you've never seen in a guy before.

After the photos you spend most of the wedding with your friends, and Gyutaro spends time with his. It's not until the wedding is almost over and everyone has had a few drinks that you talk to him again.

You noticed he was sitting alone at a table so you went over and sat next to him, "Hey Gyutaro, mind if I join you?"

His cheeks immediately become rosy, "I uh- no, not at all. Go ahead."

He's at a loss for words. A girl has never came up to him like this and initiated a conversation. Could you possibly be... interested in him?

He soon finds out when after talking for over an hour, he asks you if you want to come over to his place tonight. It's a bold move, and he never would have done it without the help of some alcohol. He swears he's dreaming when you actually agree.

"Are you sure...?" he asks.

"Yeah! Unless you're secretly a murderer or something," you smile and nudge his shoulder.

He figures he should take advantage of this opportunity before you realize how repulsive he is and change your mind. So he quickly takes you on his motorcycle, back to his apartment in the city.

When you get there Gyutaro tries to play it cool, showing you around his apartment and trying to make friendly conversation. But really he just wants to get to the main event. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't feeling incredibly horny.

It doesn't take long before you find yourself sitting on his lap, making out with him on his bed. His hands already pushing up your dress to grab at your ass.

You're so different from the other women Gyutaro has hooked up with. They never went as far as wanting to kiss him, let alone actually bothering to touch him like you are. It sends shivers down his spine and makes him feel amounts of affection he didn't know possible.

He starts to get really nervous when you lay on your back. You actually want to see his face while he fucks you? He's only ever done doggy style with his previous partners because his face would ruin the mood. But not you.

You caress his cheek and look into his eyes as he plunges into you. That's the moment that he becomes attached to you, feeling himself falling for you.

He almost loses it when you moan his name and hold him close to your body as he thrusts into you. He thought this kind of shit was only in the movies, not real life. Let alone for a guy like him.

You don't yell at him when he becomes too overwhelmed by emotion to pull out. Instead you wrap your arms around him, kiss him, and tell him what a good job he did.

He knows how pathetic he must seem, but he can't help but cling to you. Holding you close to him, and nuzzling his nose into your hair. God you smell so good.

You aren't used to having hook ups like this, so you hope he won't mind if you stay the night. And by his clinginess it seems like he doesn't want you to leave either.

In the morning, Gyutaro wakes up in a panic. He slept in too late, you must have already left. He shoots up with wide eyes only to see your sleeping form still beside him.

"She... she didn't leave?" he mumbles to himself, "But they always leave..."

You're different. You're special. And this is when Gyutaro realizes that he's falling in love with you. Maybe the next time he goes to a wedding he won't just be a groomsman, but the groom.

[zarrella-hisone-and-only]

heyyy, I hope you’ve had a nice day I was wondering if I could request ushijima, bokuto and sakusa with a fem tease sitting on their lap for a bumpy car ride and they get ‘excited’ down there 😏 it’s okay if you don’t feel comfortable with writing this! <33

Don't worry lovie I'll do my best to delivery!! Hopefully you enjoy it! Sorry if this took a decade, I ran into some writer blockages along the way heh! 😫

Bumpy Car Rides

Summary: How would the Haikyuu boys react to their dear lover sitting on their whilst on this bumpy ride?

Warnings: Characters are aged up, dirty talk, mentions of sex, teasing. Not Proof read!!! New writer!!

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It had been almost a decade since you and Ushijima had a fun day out. It was always him having to leave early in the mornings and coming home after you finished dinner. But this time you ahd somethign fun planned. It was autum and it had almost seemed like fate, a hay bale ride!

You smile hugging onto your muscular boyfriend's arm in pure joy. He sat down beside you far in the back of the cart. The guide moved and paid their attention to the younger children in the back, but you had other plans. Why bring your perfect boyfriend to this boring childish ride, maybe it was time to spicy it up a bit!

The hay bale ride was a hour and a half long. So you had loads of time to make this more fun for both you and your lover. You leaned closer to Ushijima's ear and whispered softly, practically breathing on him.

"Ushiii.. My seat is so rough, can I sit on your lap? Pleaaase.."

His eyes widened as he looks at you in utter confusion, were you really asking to sit on his lap?

"Wha-" You interrupted him by lifting your body up, just high enough to snuggle your bum comfortably on his thighs. His face was merely inches away from you, this cart was filled with children, adults, and old people.

You placed a small peck on the bridge of his nose, giving him a sweet and innocent smile.

"Y/n-" You cut him off again.

"Look babe, seems like it's about to get bumpy.." You wiggle in your seat atop of him, causing some friction underneath you. He raised his hand to cover his face, he lowly groans and sighs.

"Babe, I don't think this is the right time for-"

The cart bumps and you rub against him adjusting yourself again. It wasn't long till you felt something poking and prodding at your butt. A sly smirk plastered your face as you kept calm, continuing you effortless tortures. He places his hands on your waist tightening his grip.

If this wasn't bad enough for him, you managed to lean back and rub yourself against whilst letting out a small lewd noise for only him to hear.

Long story short, your little shenanigans put you in a bad position when you both arrived home.

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The bus was full and compacted. And well, there was only one free seat near the back. You grasped your boyfriends arm and pulled him through the crowds on people. Bokuto sat down and you wiggled yourself into his lap.

"Uh, b-baby owl!" He exclaimed a bit embarrassed at your small yet impactful movements.

You turned back to place a sweet kiss on his lips, licking his bottom lip before leaving the kiss. His face was flushed a bright red as he gripped the seat's edge in frustration.

Fortunately for you the bus ride has seemed to hit a few bumps along the way. This caused you body to fly and then hit back down on his little friend. Bokuto gritted his teeth holding back a groan every time you landed back down effortlessly perfectly square on his sweet spot.

You looked back at him and raised a brow. "What's wrong baby?" You tease asking so innocently. He had a mind to rip you to shreds when he got home, because his little friend decided to wake up and greet you.

"Baby owl, I'm not sure you want to play this game your trying..." He groans lowly in your ear. And well, I guess it turned you on a bit.

"What ever do you mean my love?"

"I'm not sure why your acting so innocent babe, you know damn well what your doing... And you'll regret it when we get home.."

You ignore his mindless and ballsy threats and notice that you have seemed to hit a mine bomb. "What a nice surprise.." You whispered feeling his member poking at you.

He huffed as the bus stopped and grabbed your hand taking you off the bus as fast as you could. And according to his promise, he sure did rip you apart the second the front door was closed.

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Sakusa wasn't one to go on public transports all the time, but this was the same cute trolley you would see everyday. After thousands of 'pleaase Omi' s and 'I'll literally die if I don't get to go on' , he finally gave in. You led him through the bundles of screaming children and messy toddlers to the back of the ride. There were two seats you you sat on the inside.

The trolley continued on its course and you were sure to watch the guide and make sure she wasn't looking at your boyfriend. You caught her catching another glance at him and you frown.

You lean over to Sakusa and whisper in his ear. "Omi, my seat is so dirty and close that nasty toddler in front of me.. Can I sit on your lap pretty please?" You whispered in the soft and sincere tone that he loved.

He shakes his head but you completely ignore it in jealousy. You slip yourself onto his comfortable lap and grab the hand that were near his side and wrap them around your waist. He stifles his breath and looks at you a shocked reaction. He was lucky that he had his mask on at all times because your boisterous action were sure to make his cheeks as red as tomatoes.

The trolley trudges onwards and hits a few bumps on the way. Between bumps you rub yourself gently across his groin, he lets out a breathy groan and bites his lip in frustration.

The guide glances at you wild actions whilst sitting on Sakusa's lap. She turns away now feeling silly that she was even thinking about making a move on him.

Meanwhile you kept doing your silly little antics causing your boyfriend unbearable pain. It wasn't long until you felt his anticipation peak. You leaned you back against his chiseled chest.

"Awh, are you excited for the next bump omi babe?" You whispered smiling in your words.

"Oh, you really want to play this dirty game again hm?" He quietly snaps back at you.

"Feisty huh?" You rub yourself against him again. He hisses and catches his breath, not able to say another word.

Long story short he had you in the shower bend over and screaming his name. He managed to wash away your dirty actions and reprimand you for acting like a jealous and territorial brat.

[greenorangevioletgrass]

given the circumstances (part 1) | b.r.b.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x actress!reader

summary: your relationship with Bradley goes from 0 to 100 after a little happy accident. [Part of “The Actress & The Aviator” universe]

word count: 5.9k

Warnings: established relationship, language, pregnancy, mention of vomit/nausea, accidental pregnancy, fluff, smut [unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, daddy kink, hint of mommy kink?, breeding kink, size kink, creampie]

notes: they’re back babeyyyy! This is set about 1.5 years after the events in “It’s Classified”, and it fills in the gap of the blurbs I did a while ago. But you don’t have to read it first, this can be read as a standalone. I have missed writing for them so much, and I hope you enjoy reading this! <3

✨ follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass to get notified for my latest words <3 happy reading and please reblog if you liked it! ✨

PART ONE

You’ve been New York-bound for six whole months, doing two shows on Broadway back-to-back. Bradley came to visit you for your musical’s opening night about two months in (and again for your second show, a modern take of Romeo & Juliet), but with your shows and his sudden deployment to God knows where for three months, the time and space apart was killing you.

Which is why you’re determined to take some time off as soon as you’re done, just to be with your stupidly handsome fiance at home in the stupidly sunny California.

Your first month or so was a bliss. You would wake up to the smell of your coffee, and saunter into the kitchen where Bradley would kiss you good morning. There’s no rigid structure to your days, save for the occasional work meetings. Most of your time is spent playing house with your fiance, redecorating the house you both barely lived in before you were called off to work. Wandering around and jotting down inspirations for your new screenplay. Treating yourself to frozen yogurts and manicures. Adjusting to life in the San Clemente neighborhood of Orange County. 

(Bradley made a joke about you joining The Real Housewives soon, which earned him an elbow to the rib. Whatever. He was more Housewife material than you anyway.)

But halfway through your second month, you started feeling lethargic and just… off. You chalked it up to the weather and exhaustion, since you’ve been back to work, going to pre-production meetings for your upcoming movie. You tried to brush it off with vitamins and heartier meals, powering through for a couple of days.

“You sure you’re okay? You don’t look so good…” Bradley looks at you in concern when you shuffle into the kitchen that morning.

You’re really not, but you blatantly refuse to acknowledge that. “I’m fine. Still tired, is all. I just need some…” the coffee scent wafts in the air—the same scent that always woke you up in a good mood these past six months—and you gag. “Oh fuck.”

Bradley’s voice calling out your name sounds distant as you dash towards the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before you puke your guts out. 

“Hey…” he holds your hair back with one hand while the other rubs your back patiently. Staying calm despite his head is running a mile a minute in panic. “What happened, sweetheart?”

Everything feels like hell from your mouth to your stomach, and you groan as you pull the flush. “I have no idea. I just… I could smell the coffee and suddenly…” you motion at the toilet. “I mean, what the fuck?”

He sighs, wiping off sweat from your forehead and brushing the strands of hair sticking on it. “Maybe it’s stress?” he guesses, although they both know it’s unlikely. You’ve been keeping it relatively chill since you got here. “Or a stomach bug? Or…”

You look up to find his brown eyes softly gazing at yours, in worry and concern and… “Or what?”

He grimaces almost apologetically, and you slowly catch what he means.

“No. No way. Nuh-uh.” you shake your head so quickly, you give yourself a headache. “I’m on birth control. I’ve never missed a day…” That’s not true. As the words leave your mouth, you remember the surprise trip Bradley took you to Big Sur one weekend where you forgot both your pills and condoms…

Fuck.

“Babe… What date is it?”

He stammers for a bit, “Um, the— it’s the 18th.”

You do the mental math, counting the time gap between today and the Big Sur trip, and your last period… and your eyes widen. Your head is swirling, and so is your stomach.

“Sweetheart, do you think you might be—”

Before he can say the damned word, you feel the bile rising again. Your pointer finger lifts up in wait, as you bury your face in the toilet and throw up once more.

His heart catches. You’ve talked about having a baby, and you’ve talked about wanting to have one… some time in the future. He didn’t expect it to happen so soon. Butterflies fill his stomach at the possibility of you carrying his baby right now at this very moment, but the sight of you looking so… defeated by your own body is enough to create a nasty pit in his gut.

“What can I get for you, baby?” he asks softly, caressing the back of your neck.

There’s absolutely nothing else to empty from your stomach at this point. It’s basically just water and dry heaving, and your eyes are tearing up from the terrible sensation.

“Ginger ale from the fridge…” you manage between heavy breaths, “...and some test packs from the pharmacy, please.”

“Okay, sure. Got it. Come on, let’s get you back to bed.” He offers both his hands and gently pulls you up. If he’s nervous or excited or both, he does a pretty good job of not showing it. He pulls up some tissues from the bathroom counter and wipes your mouth without batting an eye.

He lays you down on your side, getting you all nice and comfy, before disappearing into the kitchen, returning with a can of ginger ale and a puke bucket, just in case.

“Sweetheart?” his hand is soft and warm on your cheek, and his voice even more so. “Drink up. Hope it’ll settle your stomach a little bit.”

You sit up a little, and take small sips from the can. At least it helps alleviate the bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

“I put your phone on the bedside. Call me if you need me, alright? I’m just gonna run over to CVS. Be back before you know it.” He kisses your forehead, and you make a face in protest.

“I’m gross right now!”

“I don’t care,” he chuckles. “Just rest up. Love you.”

Of course he knows what to do. Picture perfect Bradley Bradshaw, who knows how to be caring without being overbearing. Who kisses your clammy forehead after you puke your guts out. Who is literally running to the nearest drugstore to get her pregnancy test packs right now, for fuck’s sake. He’s just… perfect.

You lie back down and smush your face into the pillow, faced with the fact that you’ll never be able to live up to that. And if you can’t… how the hell are you supposed to raise a child? How the hell are you supposed to pull your weight when your fiance can already do it so well?

“Babe?” He calls out upon entering the house a few short minutes later. “I’m back. I got the…” his words trail off as he walks into the bedroom and sees you in tears. His whole features soften up as he approaches you gingerly, sitting by your side. “Hey… what’s wrong?”

You shake your head as you sit up, sniffling a little. “What are those?” You nod at the paper bag he put down on the foot of the bed, hoping it’ll divert the conversation a little. It’s a little too big for just a bunch of pregnancy test sticks.

“The tests. And some snacks I thought might help with your stomach.”

And with that, the tears burn the corners of your eyes again and your lips quiver as they fail to hold back the cries.

“How are you so good at this?!”

He pauses in confusion, and then… it dawns on him. An amused glint appears in his eyes. “Are you… crying because I got a good bedside manner?” 

Your hands fly up to your face, hiding it from view. “I’m not! Shut up!” You really were, but he didn’t have to say it like that… and your reaction only confirmed his speculation. 

Bradley chuckles. God, he loves your silly little antics. “I mean, I had to take care of my mom all through high school, so…” he shrugs sheepishly.

You wipe your tears with the back of your hand. An uncomfortable awkwardness sets in as you remember his late mother’s terminal illness, right in the peak of his high school years. “Right. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, baby. I’m just… glad I’m doing it right?” He smiles in reassurance, wiping what’s left of your tears and kissing your nose. He lifts up the ginger ale can to your hand again. “You lost a lot of fluids to make up for. Drink up some more, and we’ll do the tests, yeah?”

You glance at the paper bag again, watching him fishing around… “How many pregnancy test packs did you get?”

“I got three just to be safe.”

You want to laugh, but you probably would’ve ransacked the test kits too, if you were the one to buy it. So instead, you nod slowly, ponderously. “Three is… three is good.”

You know how these test kits work, they’re all the same, but you insist on reading the instructions pamphlet anyway. With two other test kits to spare, Bradley simply takes another copy from another box to read.

“Pee on a stick, wait for up to 5 minutes.” You put down the pamphlet on the counter. “Easy enough.” You sigh like it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. 

And it is. Every tick of the clock feels louder and farther from the one before, and you’re trying your damnedest not to look back onto the counter where the blue-tipped sticks are lined up. Inspecting it up close and see the lines that appear.

You sigh in exasperation, breaking the stilted silence. “I don’t even know what I’m hoping for, if I’m honest. Is that weird?”

He shakes his head a little. “Not at all. This is a weird situation to be in, I think it makes sense if we’re still not sure what we want.”

“Do you know what you’re hoping for?” You turn your head towards him. Maybe you’ll know it when you hear it. 

“Honestly? No.” Yes. He knows exactly what he wants. He just doesn’t want to admit it and freak you out even more. “I’m just thinking about you. About us…”

“What about us?”

“Just that… whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together.”

Bless him. It would be infuriating if you weren’t so comforted by it. Leave it to Bradley to always know just the right thing to say.

And he means every word of it too. Yes, he wants a baby with you now, but you don’t, or if it doesn’t turn out to be now, then… he can stand to wait a little more. For as long as you need.

“How long do we have left?”

Bradley joins your gaze towards the nautical clock on the wall. A silly little gag gift you gave him last Christmas, for your favorite flying seaman. 

“Three minutes and fifteen seconds…?”

“That’s about the average length of a pop song.”

He grins. “Exactly. One pop song, and we’ll find out.”

You nod. Listening to the tick, tick, tick of the clock. It drones on and on, and it seems to lull slower as it goes. Fuck Einstein and his theory of relativity. You pick the first random song that pops into your head and holds onto it for dear life. It’s your only way of keeping track of the time, at this point.

“I took my love, I took it down…” you sing under your breath, tentatively.

Bradley snorts. “It’s a good song.” That’s an understatement. He adores Fleetwood Mac, and this is the first song he learned on the guitar when he was 10.

“Climbed a mountain and I turned around…” you throw him a side-eye, a more than obvious invitation to join you.

Bradley has his eyes closed, though. But he nods along and sings along in his warm voice, “And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hill…”

“‘Til the landslide brought me down.” 

The two of you are singing with your whole chests now, belting out the chorus to drown out your nerves, forcing yourself to stay on tempo even when you feel like rushing it to the end. Right now, it’s more like Nick Miller’s nervous singing from New Girl than a beautiful bathroom jam session, but you don’t care. Bradley is vocalizing the guitar solo part like the back of his hand, playing the air guitar and everything, and you’re so, so happy that out of all the people in the world, you’re doing this with him. 

And at that moment, you realize that your worries earlier today were misguided. Yes, Bradley knows how to take care of you, and he probably knows a thing or two about babies. But he’s on your side. He’ll be pulling the weight with you. Being good parents is not a competition—you know he’ll cheer you on like he is doing right now. He knows you’ll do the same for him, too. 

Well I’ve been afraid of changes

‘cause I’ve built my life around you

But time makes you bolder, even children get older

and I’m getting older too

You didn’t notice it at first, but Bradley also softens up on the final chorus, lost in his own thoughts. He has built his life on self-preservation, protecting himself from the lies of the people he loved, and depriving him of the love and family he’s always wanted. But maybe it’s age or the wounds healing (or you swooping into his life at just the right moment)… but he’s not gonna live forever. He knows in his heart of hearts that he wants this baby. He wants this life with you.

When you ask him to look and tell you the results, he doesn’t even flinch. He just nods, kissing your temple as he reaches for all three test kits behind you. His hand shakes a little as he picks them up, though, flipping to see the indicator side. One line for negative, two for positive.

And there it is.

“They’re…” his throat catches, his face unreadable. “They’re all positive…”

“What?”

He shows you the test kits, two blue lines all across the board. His voice wavers, with tears and smiles at the same time. “We’re having a baby.”

“Oh my God…” you walk into his arms in a daze, still not sure what you’re feeling. Are you relieved because you simply know the answer, or relieved because it’s true? Are you terrified because you want it or you don’t?

Bradley cups your face with both hands, tucking unruly strands of hair behind your ear. His brown eyes brimming with tears, blurry as he admires your beauty. The mother of his child. Gosh, he can’t believe his luck.

“How do you feel, honey?”

It tugs at your heartstrings, just how soft he is. So brave, and so gentle at the same time. You have no idea what kind of parent you would be, but you know he would make a great one. “Shocked,” you admit. He nods. “Scared.” This time, you’re a bit embarrassed, but he completely empathizes. “But…” you put your hand over his, closing your eyes as you lean your cheek against his palm, so warm and soft and right, “…happy.”

***

And after two months of a relatively slow life, things are going from zero to 100 very quickly.

Bradley manages to duck out of work early and take you to the doctor that very afternoon. Everything seems to be in order. The baby is, indeed, there— a 7-week-old blob as big as a blueberry with a heartbeat.

Heartbeat.

Your heart all but stops beating when you first hear it, much stronger than you thought it would. But there it is. Strong. Alive.

There. 

“That’s… that’s our baby…” You choke up, staring at the ultrasound screen in awe. His hand brings yours to his lips for a loving kiss.

Gosh, you must’ve cried about six times that day. Bradley twice as much (He would deny it to his grave, but you kept count.)

And then, once the novelty wears off a little and the new situation sets in… the two of you get to work.

Bradley updates the entire kitchen inventory and goes into a research (or, as you like to call it, a rabbit hole) into what you can or cannot consume during your pregnancy. You’re constantly on the phone with your agent to rearrange your schedule for the next year (he sounds happy that you’re expecting, but a little inconvenienced that he has to move some things around and even cancel your involvement in a few projects). Conversation topics at mealtimes now include baby names, nursery ideas, and childcare plans.

Bradley comes home to you huddled over your laptop one evening, brows knitted in focus. The AC is cranked up to the max in the summer heat, and you’re all bundled up in the throw blanket. He wants to squee over how cute you look. He puts down the takeout bag of Pad Thai on the coffee table.

“Whatcha got there, my little cocoon?”

“Insurance, mostly.” You look up to kiss him briefly, before you continue typing on. “I’ve been talking to them all afternoon, going through the birth plans and sorting everything out. Very exciting stuff.”

“Hell yeah! Paperwork! The thrill of calling up an insurance company on a Tuesday!” Bradley counters your deadpan with an overexcited cheer, flopping himself on the spot next to you with another big kiss. “Anything I can help you with?”

“Well,” you take a thoughtful deep breath, going through your mental to-do list and realizing… you’re pretty much all set. “How about a back massage?” You give him the puppy eyes, as if you needed it in the first place.

“Copy that, Ma’am.” He throws her a lazy salute and tugs the throw blankets off of you. He starts on your shoulders, noticing the tension under your skin. “Jeez, babe. How long have you been hunched over here?”

Before you can answer him, he’s already working the knots on the base of your neck, you don’t even know you were so tense there, and you respond with a resounding moan.

He raises his eyebrows. “I’ll… take that as a compliment, then.” He grins, ever so proud that he’s eliciting these sounds out of you.

It’s not like you were playing it up or anything. You really were tense, and his hands really do feel good. And while it does make you moan and sigh blissfully, it’s hardly your fault that it makes him think of something else, right?

“Baby…” his voice sounds like a gentle warning.

“Yes?”

His hands stop. “Don’t test me.”

“Oh, okay. Would you prefer this instead?” you grunt oafishly, a piss-poor impression of him in bed, “Fuck baby, that’s it. That’s it. Good girl…”

“Hey!” he pokes his fingers to your side and cage you in his arms so you have nowhere to go. Nowhere to avoid his ministrations.

You giggle uncontrollably, squirming as he gets on top of you, peppering kisses all over your face. A mere distraction to his real tickle attacks. “Stop! Stop! Roo-roo!”

He pins your arms over your head, his cheeks tinged pink with mischief now. “Yield?”

“I’m willing to negotiate.” You flash him a coy smirk.

He frowns. Go on. 

You raise an eyebrow. You know what I’m talking about.

He raises his, mirroring you. Interesting…

You tilt your head slightly. Well?

And just like that…

“Deal.” 

Your lips meet each other halfway in a searing kiss. The pregnancy hormones are kicking in in full gear, and you’re needier. Much needier than you already are. You want Bradley all the time, in whatever form he’s in, in whatever situation you are in. He knows this, and he finds this endlessly adorable. He would poke fun at you for that…

If only he wasn’t so god-fucking-damned enamored by you for it.

He tears off your dress, reveling in the sheer sight of you. Your curves growing softer, more pronounced in the past month alone. The very subtle but steadfast roundness of your belly. Your breasts, as they grow fuller and—

“Oh…” you whimper as he rolls your nipple between your fingers.

More sensitive to the touch.

“God, you’re so beautiful like this…” he leans down to kiss you again; on the mouth, and on the neck… his tongue gliding across your collarbones, forming the shape of your mounds, one after another…

“Roo, take me to bed…”

“Or what, lose me forever?”

He grazes the outer parts of your nipple with his teeth and teasingly licks at the hardened tops, and you cry out. Such a small little thing, but you feel the sensation in your fingertips.

Bradley smiles. A soft look despite how the situation is escalating. “C’mere, baby.”

With your legs wrapped around his waist, he lifts you up off of the couch. You think it’s just to get you up on your feet, but then he’s not letting go. “You’re not seriously thinking about carrying me all the way upstairs, right?” A teasing frown sets on your face as he hauls you out of the living room.

“Are you assuming that I can’t carry my beautifully pregnant wife to our room?”

“I’m not your wife yet, you know— oh shit!” He pins you against the wall right by the stairs, one hand cradling the back of your head, ever so caring.

He mouths your neck in teasing, his breath fanning against your bare skin. “No? So I don’t have to perform my husbandly duties now, since you’re not my wife?”

It’s kind of hot… but you can’t help but make a face at his choice of words. “You need to stop watching Downton Abbey. Just say ‘fuck.’ It’s not that hard.”

He pulls away, his comeback locked and loaded and ready to go. “You can’t tell me what to do. Who are you, my wife or something?”

“Ugh!” your jaw falls open in a mock offended expression, and you smack his ass playfully.

In turn, he squeezes yours back. Tight. Possessive. There’s a shift in his gaze, a tiny sliver, a darkening—the kind that makes you feel even more naked than you already are. You look at him with unbridled lust, and he kisses you like it’s the only way he can breathe. Like he’s been holding his breath until he can get his hands on you.

And by God, you would let him have all the air you have left to give.

He carries up to the bedroom slowly, carefully, and you hold onto him tight. Reveling in how strong he’s built, all muscles and abs and everything, and how gentle he handles you as he sets you down on the edge of the bed. The epitome of a gentleman, as he kneels down between your legs.

You can feel the heat emanating from him—or is it you?— and you try to unbutton his khaki uniform. “Baby, don’t you wanna take off your…” your words die out as his chest moves out of reach. There is only his hair between your thighs.

His tongue between your folds.

“Fuuuuck…” you bite through your teeth. And once his finger joins in, you’re done for. 

You make no effort to hold back your obscene moans, but the wet sounds coming from your pussy are still louder. Your face grows hot as the noise bounces through your bedroom walls.

Bradley pulls his mouth away for a moment, smirking devilishly at you from between his legs. “Well well well… What’s got you this soaking wet, honey?”

You bite your lip, trying to keep it together. But you’re teetering dangerously closer to your release, and you whine out, “You, Daddy…”

He chuckles darkly. “Daddy’s got you all worked up, huh?” The use of the moniker has significantly increased since the news of your pregnancy, but you’re hardly complaining. It does hit different now that he’s actually gonna be one. “I’ve been home for two minutes, and you’re already dripping down your legs…” he slaps the inside of your thigh and you’re keeling into it. “So fucking cute.”

He watches you fuck yourself on his fingers and it makes you dizzy. “Please…”

“Please what?” His mustache tickles your clit, and it drives you wild. “Please stop?”

You whimper in protest.

He adds another finger into you, and raises an expectant eyebrow. This fucking asshole. A snide remark sits right at the tip of your tongue, but the only thing that comes out is,

“Please fuck me.”

He stops, straightening up with an intrigued look about him. Then, being a little shit, he comes back up to you with a kiss. “Good girl. There we go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You taste yourself on his lips, his mustache wet from your arousal, too. In any other case, you would be more proactive, more feral in returning his sentiment—tearing off his clothes and stuffing your mouth full of his cock. But lately you’ve been feeling more… submissive. So easily drunk on climax that you just surrender your pleasure to your man, knowing he’ll take care of you. 

Bradley stands up to his full height, towering over you. He toes off his shoes, unbuttoning his uniform. It’s hardly a striptease routine, but there’s something insanely hot about him undressing when he’s about to fuck you.

His shirt drops to the floor, and the white undershirt soon joins. You perk up at the sound of his belt unbuckling, pants rustling down. And as his hard cock springs free from his boxers, you swallow thickly at the sight. 

“You ready?” He pumps his fist around his hard-on a few times, as he settles between your legs, still standing on the side of the bed.

A quiet little please escapes you, and then a gasp, as he pulls your hips to the edge of the bed. Lining up his cock against your entrance. He’s big, and your pussy is still aching after he edged you moments ago. It’s gonna be a tight fit.

“Honey, go slow. Please. Slowslowslowslow… ahh!” His cock slides into you in one swift movement, sending a blinding wave of pain and pleasure as it stretches you out.

He doesn’t tear his eyes off of you. He watches your face fall under his undoing, and he moans. “You feel so good, baby…” he says between heavy breaths. You’re always so strong and bold and ballsy, and it gives him a fucking power trip to see you look so… small taking on his cock.

You let out a pathetic whimper as he starts to shallowly thrust in and out of you.

“What is it, baby?” He coos, caressing your hip gently.

“Y’too big…”

“Too big?” Bradley looks down to level your gaze, a seed of a shit-eating grin plastered on his stupid face. “You want me to stop? Is that what you want?”

“No!” You buck up into him as soon as his hips halt, desperately trying to maintain the pace.

He chuckles, that cocky fuck, before he finally continues driving his dick up your inner walls again. “No? You want me to keep stretching you, then?”

You nod. Every thrust feels bigger, deeper, more than the rest, hitting that spot of pleasure just barely, and you’re willing to do anything to stay there.

“Been so needy since I got you pregnant…” he kisses your neck. “Want Daddy more now that I made you a mommy, huh?”

Fuck. The words—the exact order of the words he said sounds batshit insane. You never considered this kind of dirty talk to be hot, but Jesus…

“God, I can’t wait to see your belly all big and round… your tits too, fuck…” he groans as he squeezes your soft flesh, rubbing your nipples with his thumb. “Gonna be a mommy and show everyone who you belong to, huh?”

“Mmh…” You’ve seen Bradley being possessive, and you’ve seen him tap into his primal side, but not like this. This is a whole other beast, and it shocks you how much it turns you on.

“All mine, huh?”

“I’m all yours, Daddy. I’m—fuck. Fuck!” Your whole body is shaking. The band in your core is wound up so tight, and it’s threatening to snap. 

And through it all, he doesn’t let up. Bradley keeps that rhythm, pounding into you hard and deep. “Shit, that’s it… that’s it, baby. Come on my cock. God, you’re so fucking tight…”

There’s no stopping it now… your pussy gushes and clenches around him, as shocks of pleasure wave through your system. Your mind goes blank, and for a hot second, nothing is registering in your brain. Nothing but your man, as obscenely as he is fucking your brains out right now, 

“Need your cum inside me, Roo…”

“Don’t wanna come anywhere else. Just you, just your pussy…” he breathes out. He’s close, that much you can tell. His pace is erratic and his mouth runs wild. “Gonna keep pumping you full of my cum. Gonna keep fucking babies into you until you can’t anymore.”

You would laugh. You would tease him for being such a caveman about it. But as he comes deep inside you, his hips stuttering one, two, three more times as he rides out his orgasm… you don’t only surrender to the idea; you welcome it. 

Maybe you’re completely fucked out. Maybe you’re going soft and mellow, but nothing—and you mean nothing— is hotter than what he wants to do to you.

What he is doing to you now. 

The room falls into a pleasant silence as you come down from your high. Bradley pulls out of you, and you gush out with your own release and his. His mouth falls open in awe. “Fuck, that’s hot…”

“Huh?” You lift your head from the bed, trying to see what he’s looking at.

“Nah, it’s just…” he shakes his head with a grin. “Good thing we’re already pregnant, huh? If we weren’t, that might’ve just done the trick.”

You roll your eyes as he gives you a sweet peck on the cheek. “I think the dirty talk alone was enough to do it.”

He blushes, a deep shade of red. He absolutely can’t take it when you quote back the things he said to you during sex. “Nope! Not a single word. La-la-la-la…” he closes his ears with his fingers, waddling over to the bathroom comically.

The sound of water trickling into the toilet coincides with your laugh in the bedroom… and then it gets drowned out with the flush. It’s a mundane little snapshot of your intimate lives together.

He comes up to you and offers his hands. “Come on…” he helps you get up. “You go ahead and clean up. I’ll change the sheets.”

Leave it up to Bradley, to always take initiatives to do the small things, like changing the sheets and ushering your ass to the bathroom after sex.

As you clean up and put on some clothes in the bathroom, Bradley singing Take My Breath Away to himself in the other room, you wonder how all of this will turn out. Change is inevitable—your belly is getting bigger, this new stage of relationship is getting more real— and you’re desperate to get a grasp on these things. It’s strange to be so anxious after such a lovely evening. But it’s been so good so far… too good, maybe… and you can’t help but wonder if the other shoe might drop.

“Everything alright?” Bradley pops up by the bathroom door, already in sweatpants and a t-shirt. You must’ve been in there for a while.

You nod absently. “Yeah, just… changing.” And you’re not sure whether you’re talking about the clothes you just put on, or the body you inhabit.

“I think you look beautiful,” he says so simply. Wrapping his arms around you, feeling your small bump. He smiles into your hair and whispers, “My beautiful wife…”

“Not your wife yet…” you remind him pointedly, teasingly. It’s one of your favorite pastimes, keeping him on his toes.

He turns you around to face him, a tender look seemingly permanent on his face whenever he sees you these days. “I mean, you’re here, with me, in our house, carrying our baby…” he kisses your nose, “As far as I’m concerned, that makes you my wife, doesn’t it?”

Well, when he puts it like that… you take a deep sigh, not hating the idea. But not quite ready to concede to his argument yet. “Apart from a piece of paper.”

“Ah well. That can easily be arranged, hmm?”

Truth be told, he’s got a point. The only differentiating factor to your status right now is a little certificate, and both your signatures on the dotted lines. Not a big party or a horrendously expensive dress that everybody would have an opinion on. And to be more truthful, it was never what you wanted in the first place.

You only ever want to be together.

And you’re free to decide how you want to be together.

“Should we just do it?”

“What?”

You look up at him with a tentative smile.

His eyes light up, and his heart leaps. “I mean, sure.” He chuckles. “We can go down to the courthouse. Or, hell, I’ll drive us to Vegas right now.”

It gets a giggle out of you. Of course he would jump at the opportunity to marry you right away. “Or… we can just celebrate it with our closest friends and family? Rent a beach house somewhere, and just… make a fun weekend out of it?”

“And just… what, get a justice of the peace to marry us?”

You shrug with an easy smile. “Or we can make Mav cry and ask him to officiate.”

He chuckles, but trails off as it sinks in. It has never occurred to him that that was an option. He’s always imagined it the traditional way. A church ceremony followed by a reception in a hall somewhere. Walking under the arch of swords. Looking dapper in his dress uniform. But with his work obligations and yours, and all the nightmare logistics of guest numbers and venues and entertainment and the fucking publicity that comes with your fame, both of you are well aware that it’s a hassle. 

And it’s not even the most important part.

The most important part is you. You’d be the one meeting him at the altar. You’d be the one saying your vows and making him cry happy tears.

You would be the one. 

For him.

Forever.

“Let’s do it.” Bradley nods resolutely. “Just you, me, and our closest people. We can get married in our jammies, for all I care.”

“Maybe not jammies…” you roll your eyes in amusement. “I still wanna look nice for our wedding, you know.”

“You look nice in your jammies.” He glances down at your tank top.

“Roo.” You cover his line of sight indignantly.

But he tugs your hand away, eyes still glued to what is arguably one of his favorite sights in the world. Your cleavage. Plays it off really coolly as he teases you. “No, no. I’m serious. You look really nice in your jammies. I really wouldn’t object to—”

You swat his hand, only half-serious. “Bradley.”

“Alright, fine!” He raises his hands in surrender. “So long as I get to call you my wife.”

“Not your wife yet…” you saunter out of the bathroom, knowing full well he doesn’t care.

To be completely honest, you’re not even sure that you do, either.

[bordysbae]

could you please write a fanfic where y/n gets really sick, maybe she even passes out? and mark takes care of her until she feels better, like he makes her soup, cuddles, holds her hair back, and other fluffyness

“i’ll kiss you even if you’re sick”

mark estapa x fem!reader

warning: vomit, cursing, not proof read

also i think i used this gif already but there’s like none of mark sooo

you stir awake, immediately noticing the empty space beside you in bed. you rub your eyes and begin to notice the familiar things in marks room, which slowly brings back memories from last night.

the boys all decided to have a hang out, and of course being one of the girlfriends, you were invited. you all went out to a new restaurant in ann arbor and afterwards went back to nolans place. at nolan’s you started to feel quite sick, so you told mark that you’d catch an uber back to your dorm but he immediately shut that down.

“babe no, you’re coming back to mine.” he said, as he grabbed his phone from off of the living room table and stood up. you sighed and stood up from the couch, following marks actions. he explained to the rest of the group why you guys were leaving so early, as you ordered an uber for you both. once you guys made it back you both crawled into bed and called it a night.

you don’t feel much better, if anything you feel worse. a sudden nauseating feeling rushes over you, and you bolt out of bed for the bathroom. you make it just in time to the toilet, where you begin to vomit, drawing the attention of ethan who’s leaving his bedroom.

“oh shit! you okay?” he asks as he quickly rushes over to the doorway of the bathroom.

“uh, yeah,” you manage to get out, still with your face in the toilet bowl.

“let me get mark,” he says as he scurries to find mark. mark comes rushing in and holds you hair back for you, while gently rubbing circles onto your lower back. you eventually feel a little better and mark helps you get cleaned up.

“babe you’re so pale! go back and lay in my bed, i’ll bring you some medicine,” he says, as he takes your hand in his, and leads your now weak self to his bed. you shuffle around gently, still uncomfortable due to the sick feeling in your system. you hear the bedroom door open and a shuffling noise coming towards you, and you open your eyes to see mark with water and pills. you smile up at him, appreciative of his kind gesture.

once you take the pills mark gets in his bed next to you and plays with your hair, meanwhile whispering sweet nothings in your ear. your eyes then begin to feel heavy, so you shut them allowing yourself to rest. when you wake up the next time, you’re awoken by the same nausea from earlier. you jump out of marks bed, accidentally waking him in the process. he instantly gets out of bed and follows you to the bathroom, only to see you in the same state as earlier. he sighs at the sight of his sick girlfriend, and holds your hair back for you again.

“babe, i think we need to go to urgent care,” he says, kissing the top of your head as you flush the toilet.

“what? no way! i’m fine babe,” you say, standing up way too quickly for your weak state. you suddenly get a rush in your head, and next thing you know mark’s holding your body in his arms, as he sits on the bathroom floor calling out for ethan.

“ethan help! she passed out!”

—

“well, looks like the only diagnosis we have for you is food poisoning,” the urgent care doctor says.

“is there anything you can prescribe her?” mark asks, standing next to you in the small room. he has your hand in his, and he’s rubbing his thumb atop yours.

“yes, we’ll give her antibiotics. she’ll need to take the medication twice a day for a week. if she’s not feeling at all better by then, definitely come back,” the doctor says, and you nod. the doctor leaves for a few minutes, leaving you and mark alone.

“thank you for taking so much care of me mark,” you smile up at him.

“of course, that’s my job!” he smiles back before leaning down to kiss your lips. you quickly turn your head to avoid his kiss, making him gasp.

“i threw up like an hour ago! no way am i letting you kiss me!”

“oh, y/n. i’ll kiss you even if you’re sick!”

“i’m not letting you. let me brush my teeth first,” you chuckle, making him groan.

“whatever, it’s your loss. you’re missing out on free kisses!”

“since when do i have to pay for kisses?”

“starting now, since you dodged mine,” he pouts jokingly, crossing his arms and huffing too.

“oh you’ll be fine estapa.”

[peptothesi]

Hello pretty boy

The JoJo’s being called pretty boy lmao.

Jonathan

🐶 Would not know what your talking about, where is the pretty boy?

🐶 It’ll take him a moment before he’s just like oh wait I’m pretty boy!

🐶 Flustered with a comeback.

Imagine him sitting down reading a book and you’re just lying your head on his shoulder looking up at him whilst he’s reading.

His eyebrows furrowed with concentration cause he’s so into the book, and you’re just there smiling up at him admiring your boy.

You reach your hand up lazily and stroke his face and his hand reaches for yours and locks you fingers together and it isn’t until you call him pretty boy he turns to you.

“Sorry my love did you say something??” He asked, his book in one hand carefully keeping his place in the book.

“I said hello my pretty boy” you grinned bringing his hand down to give it a kiss whilst you watch him try register your words.

His face lightens up when it connects and he kissed your hand back with a passionate look on his face “You’re prettier my love” he insisted before leaning down and giving you a kiss on the lips.

Joseph

✈️ He knows he’s pretty.

✈️ He’s not even arguing or anything he’s just like ah yes I am pretty boy that is me.

✈️ Maybe pretend not to hear you so you’ll say it again.

You were up bright and early ready to start your ham on training but before that you had to grab a quick breakfast but fortunately for you, you ran into Joseph.

“Oh well good morning pretty boy” you cheered.

“Hah? What did you say?” Joseph yawned stretching his limbs.

“Good morning?” You repeated not so sure what was happening.

“There was something else” he accused tiredly.

“Oh yeah don’t worry about it I’m going to get breakfast now” you excused before trying to walking away.

You were pulled back into warm toned arms wrapped safely around you.

“Not too bad yourself darling” Joseph sneered in your neck as you hugged back.

“You dick”

Jotaro

🐬 He just scoffs or rolls his eyes unless it’s you I guess.

🐬 But if you think about it being called pretty isn’t what is usually screamed at him it’s more like rugged bad boy or shit like that and Jotaro likes a bit of a change of pace.

🐬 He still won’t react like he likes it most likely just pulls the hat down.

You and Jotaro’s futons were next to each other so you both got the pleasure on waking up together.

When you woke up Jotaro was awake and sitting up stretching his limbs before turning to you.

“Good morning..” he greeted, he didn’t have his hat on just yet so you got to see his pretty face first thing in the morning so you said what first came to your mind without realising it.

“Hello pretty boy” you yawned sitting up as well not noticing Jotaro try hide his face behind his hand while star was looking for his hat.

You blink a couple of times to wake up your eyes before rubbing the corner then feeling a hand on yours.

His hand cautiously reached out to yours and intertwined his fingers with yours and looked at your sleepy confused face and messy hair looking back at him with a small smile.

“Hi..”

Josuke

💛 BABE!

💛 He’s loves it though, he’s aware he’s

“average” (I would slap the pompadour off his head if he dare said that in my presence though but whatever-) but he does love compliments.

💛 Probably would be like babe stahp! Do it again… but he’s a sweetie so it would be a lot more cuter.

You both were in school where you and Josuke hung out while waiting for koichi and Okutasy so you could start eating lunch, Josuke was sat up on the window ledge where the sun perfectly hit his features just right.

You sitting at your desk which is beside the window got the perfect look at your stunning boyfriend and got lost in thought.

Josuke noticed this at some point and waved a hand infront if your face to snap you out of it .

“Uh babe you good there?” He asked nudging your shoulder.

“Hmm yeah I’m good” you replied taking out your lunch as well.

“Oh yeah? What were you thinking about?” Josuke questioned, poking a hole into his drink carton before taking a sip from the straw.

“About you pretty boy” you quipped without missing a beat taking a bite out of your food.

Josuke choked on his juice gasping for air before turning to you looking flustered.

“BABE!” He hissed.

“What I was you look really cute today especially your pomp” you added winking at him before taking another bite.

He gave a cheeky smile with blush adoring his ears and cheekbones before he jumped off the window ledge and sat on your table where you received a kiss on the forehead.

“You’re too cute for me now gimme some of that it looks good!”

Giorno

🐸 He’s like Jonathan but worse he just keeps on pushing it.

🐸 Can’t take a compliment like oh my god-

“Hello pretty boy .“ you greet.

Giorno looks up from his work to give you his warm smile “Hello to you too, amor mío,”

You walk around his desk and place a kiss on his head before swinging an arm around his shoulders and taking a look at what he’s working on.

He watches you visibly crinkle your nose at the paper work and chuckles leaning into your body and holding onto your hand.

“ I feel the same my love trust me it’s no party.” he admitted rubbing his thumb onto the back of your hand.

“Would you like to take a break from it? You’ve been in here all day I could take you for a walk or some gelato?” You coaxed.

You hear him sigh and felt him stop rubbing your hand “ That sounds wonderful my love I think it’s time I take a little break I’ve done all I needed to do today anyways,”.

And with that you spin him to face you and pull him up by his hands to get him out of his chair and greet him with a kiss on the lips.

He sighs again but this time content in his tone “I’m feeling much better already,”.

You grin at him and grab his hand and lead him out his office “Let’s go then pretty boy,”

[logan368]

Hi! I saw that your requests are open. Do you think you can do a Grian x reader, fluff?

Make some time for yourself

Grian x Gn! Reader

You don't know how long it had been. You'd been pushing yourself to get this done because you knew the second you took a break you'd lose motivation and you didn't know when you'd get it back. You also didn't take into consideration that maybe you getting burnt out had something to do with the fact that you spent so much time hours and days on end. It was so close to being done you couldn't give up now.

"Y/N!!!!" You jumped in shock as you turned around and saw a very angry avian staring at you.

"Oh hey Grian, can't talk right now. I'm kind of busy." You pushed your boyfriend away and continued pressing on to your build. When someone grabbed your hand pulling you back.

"Uh no, people have been trying to get your attention for days now. You need to sleep and a break." Grian glared at you.

You grumbled the thought of sleep making you yawn. Had it already been 3 days? You had completely lost track of time. Grian pulled you along to your starter base. Completely against your will.

"G my base will never get done."

"Y/N you do realize these things take time. You can't just keep going at it until your body forces you to take a break. You worry me when you get like this." His eyes were starting to water. "It makes me sick to my stomach watching you overwork yourself."

You gulped and looked at your boyfriend giving him a hug and cuddling up close to him and before you knew it you were passed out in his arms. Grian looked down and smiled at you shaking his head before taking you to your base and setting you down on your bed. "What amu i ever going to do with you." He sighed petting your hair.

You woke up and yawned stretching when you're moments were stopped by a rock? Did you finally overwork yourself until you passed out. When did you pass out? What had happened? As you tried to recollect your memory and look around you realized. That wasn't a rock, it was Grian, and you were in your own bed. You bit your lip. He wasn't going to be happy with you when he woke up. He'd already told you before the season started not to overwork yourself. You looked at the blonde haired boy asleep next to you. His arms wrapped around you keeping you trapped. You figured he didn't want you to run away and finish working on your base. Figures much, but you were hungry. You sighed and poked the blonde haired man next to you. He stirred and stretched waking up.

"Why good morning." He smiled lovingly at you. "So glad you got some rest." He kissed your nose.

"Good morning to you too G, but if you're really gonna make me take care of myself. Can I get up and eat."

"Yeah, I have to go do something. I'll be back soon. Don't do anything stupid." Grian said getting up and flying away.

You sighed. He really said bye quickly. You got up and ate. You were startled by a knock at your door. You went and opened it and saw Scar.

"Hey! Y/N I was sent here to retrieve you. Come with me." You yelped as he grabbed your hand and dragged you away without a moment to think about his offer.

"Where are we going."

"It's a suprise."

You grumbled as you were dragged away. "Now my task is done. See you around fellow hermit." Scar grinned and walked away. You looked over to see a sign leading down a path.

Y/N this way~

Just follow the signs

C'mon you got this.

You were getting an eerie vibe as you read the signs which were distanced apart along the path as you continued your way.

Almost there

So close

The final sign

Here you are

You looked up to see a blanket set out with a beautiful view of the server ontop a mountain. You then looked and saw Grian.

"Grian? What is this?" You looked around completely awestruck.

"You've been so focused on your base I thought I'd give you a break to see all the other great things people have built here." Grian gave you a cheeky grin as he grabbed your arm and pulled you into his lap pointing out cool things here and there as he cuddled you atop the mountain. "I love you Y/N."

You smiled leaning into the avians touch. "I love you too G."

[munson-blurbs]

I am thinking older Eddie? 🤔 he's not nearly as confident as he used to be but meets his dream gal at maybe a concert? Gets his groove back. Maybe he's a single dad who feels like he hasn't had time or energy to be himself anymore and she makes him feel like that again?

I just feel like you'll be able to really make it so good.

Warnings: none--all fluff :)

WC: 2.7k

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

“Okay, his bedtime is 7:30 PM, but if you get him down before 8:30, I’ll be amazed,” Eddie tells his uncle, grabbing his guitar case and slinging it over his shoulder. “He’s in that phase where he only wants to eat macaroni and cheese, so just go with that tonight. No need for you to fight with him over it.”

Wayne chuckles, bouncing the toddler on his hip. “And when will you be out of your ‘only eating macaroni and cheese’ phase?” he asks Eddie, who promptly flips him off in response. “Hey! Not in front of the impressionable kid!”

“Daddy will see you when you wake up tomorrow,” Eddie promises his son, pressing a quick kiss to his scalp. “Be good for Grandpa.”

“Oh, he’s always good for me,” Wayne says, making a funny face at the little boy. “Isn’t that right, Kirk?” He frowns as Kirk’s tiny bottom lip quivers and he reaches out for his dad. “C’mon, buddy; Dad has to go to his concert!”

“No!” Kirk whines, crocodile tears streaming down his chubby cheeks. Eddie’s heart pangs, and he second guesses his decision to go out.

As though he can read his nephew’s mind, Wayne tuts at Eddie’s hesitation. “Nuh-uh, absolutely not. You haven’t done anything for yourself since this troublemaker was born.” He wipes a tear from Kirk’s face and blows a raspberry into his belly. A mix of giggles and sobs leaves the boy’s throat. “We’re gonna be just fine. Now, go.” He practically shoves Eddie out the door. 

It’s been ten years since Eddie graduated from Hawkins High. The day he crossed that stage, middle fingers aimed at his exasperated principal, he’d vowed never to return to this shithole town. And he’d kept that promise up until two years ago. Kirk was only five months old when Celeste had up and left, claiming that she couldn’t handle the stress of motherhood any longer. She’d left her key to their dingy apartment on the countertop, along with the engagement ring Eddie had saved so long to buy her. He’d pawned it a few weeks later, desperate to scrounge up some money for baby formula. And when that money ran out, he’d found himself back in his hometown, bunking with his uncle. Again. 

The goal was to move out, get a little place for himself and Kirk, and give Wayne his trailer—and his freedom—back. After years of raising his brother’s kid, the last thing he probably wanted was to help raise his nephew’s. For the most part, Eddie’s able to balance his job as a telemarketer and fatherhood, especially since he mostly works from home. But on the days where he has to schlep into the office, he relies on Wayne for child care. His salary is decent, and he has medical coverage for himself and his kid, but he hates working a nine-to-five desk job. 

He tunes the radio to a classic rock station, bypassing whatever saccharine pop songs repeat on the Top 40 channels. A smile tugs at his lips when he hears the familiar bridge. 

Master, master

Where’s the dreams that I’ve been after?

Master, master

You promised only lies

It takes him back to a time where his only worries were passing O’Donnell’s class and planning sadistic Hellfire campaigns. Now, his life revolves around potty training and quelling temper tantrums. But even on his most exhausting days, like when he makes Kirk exactly what he wants for lunch, and the kid flips the plate onto the floor, he would do anything for him. He’d choose his son one thousand times over.

Did I leave the number to the club in case of an emergency? he thinks, slamming on the brakes and nearly causing a collision before remembering that he’d jotted it down on a notepad and given it to Wayne. 

It’s been too long since he’s played in front of anyone, save for lullabies to get Kirk to sleep. But Gareth was coming back to Indiana for a weekend, and he’d damn near begged the guys for a one-night only Corroded Coffin reunion. Eddie didn’t have the heart to turn him down.

He looks over his shoulder into the backseat, catching a glimpse of Kirk’s car seat. Who would’ve thought that the teenager who used to try to hook up with girls in the back of the van–emphasis on try–would now spend his time cleaning out Cheerio crumbs between the seats?

Pulling into the parking lot, Eddie breathes out a nervous sigh. He’s been practicing every day, all the covers they used to play back in the mid-80s, but he doesn’t have the same confidence he did back when they jammed out at the Hideout. Being a parent certainly knocks you down a few pegs, has you questioning yourself all too often.

“Here goes nothing,” he mutters to himself, pulling his guitar from the trunk and heading into the club. 

“Hey, man! Long time no see!” Jeff claps him on the back, and Gareth pulls him in for a hug. “Jesus, it’s been years.”

“You didn’t bring the kid?” Gareth asks, peering around.

Eddie just laughs. “Nah, ‘s a little past his bedtime. Plus,” he adds, “I don’t want him starting school and singing ‘Hot for Teacher.’” The rest of the band shares a chuckle and starts warming up.

“Did you guys check out the bartender?” Trevor asks, tuning his bass. “She’s a cutie, if any of you wanna chat her up later.”

Gareth snorts. “Eddie’s the only single one out of us; and we all know how he is with the ladies.” He turns to his friend. “Seriously, when’s the last time you got any, dude?”

Too long, Eddie thinks, but just gives Gareth a friendly shove. “Your mom gave it to me good last night.” He grins as Jeff and Trevor chime in with a chorus of oohs. But he’s curious about this bartender, so he peeks around the curtain.

And there you are.

“Holy shit,” he breathes. You’re wearing a black tank top that frames your chest perfectly, paired with a denim miniskirt. Your eyes crinkle as you giggle at something a patron says, and Eddie feels himself melt. “She’s, like, really fuckin’ pretty.” His eyes widen. “Should I talk to her?”

“Let’s play our set first, all right Casanova?” Jeff jokes. “Impress her with your kickass vocals and guitar skills, if you’ve still got ‘em.”

Eddie gives him the middle finger, but he’s wondering the same thing. He doesn’t have time to explore it further before the emcee is announcing Corroded Coffin. “Showtime, boys!” Eddie calls out, hoping no one catches the warble in his voice.

Forty minutes later, the four guys jog off the stage, drenched in sweat and filled with adrenaline.

“That…was…awesome!” Trevor shouts, high-fiving the rest of them. “We can still rock after all these years!”

Eddie’s grinning so wide, his lips could stretch off of his face. “Hell yeah, we do! Woooo!” He grabs a towel and wipes his forehead and back of his neck. He feels like he’s on top of the world; nothing he’d bought from Reefer Rick ever gave him this type of high. He clenches the guitar pick that hangs around his neck; it’s just like the one he wore in high school, except this one has a photo of Kirk on it. Wayne had it custom made for Kirk’s first Christmas. Your old man was a rockstar tonight, little buddy, he thinks, hopefully, you’ll be able to watch me in action someday.

His thoughts are interrupted by a light knocking. He turns around to see you standing in the doorway, holding a tray with four ice-cold glasses of water. “You boys thirsty?” you ask, flashing a smile that could knock him right off of his feet.

“Eddie sure is,” Jeff mutters with a smirk, which disappears as soon as Eddie shoots him a glare. If looks could kill, Jeff would be six feet under right about now.

You cock your brow with a confused expression, but Eddie just shoves his hands in his pockets and meanders over. “Thanks,” he mumbles, plucking a glass from the tray.

“Are you…Eddie?” You look up at him through your lashes, gazing into his chocolate brown eyes. 

“Thas’ me,” he says with a small laugh. “Did you like the show?” He could smack himself; you probably tuned out the music at this point. Especially loud metal covers by a bunch of late twenty-somethings.

He’s surprised by your enthusiastic nod. “Yeah, you guys are amazing! It was a nice change from the grunge bands that usually play.” You wrinkle your nose. “The other day, we had someone come in who only sang Spice Girls songs. That was interesting.”

Eddie laughs, despite his nerves. “Was she any good, at least?”

“No,” you reply pointedly, “he was not.” You motion towards his empty cup. “Want a refill? Or maybe something stronger?”

“Maybe just a Shirley Temple; he’s gotta get up in the morning with his kid,” Gareth pipes up, and Eddie whips his dirty towel at his head.

Your eyes soften. “You have a kid?” It’s not an accusation, nor is it said with disgust, which Eddie is all-too used to. 

“Y-Yeah, a two-year-old,” he stammers, leaning forward slightly to show the guitar pick necklace with his son’s photo on it. “His name’s Kirk.”

“As in Hammett, or as in Captain?” you tease. “Or both?”

Eddie runs a hand through his tangled curls. “Hammett; definitely Hammett,” he answers with a chuckle. “Kid’s probably cooler than him, too.”

“Well, his dad is a total rockstar, so I’m not surprised,” you shrug. “C’mon back to the bar with me, and I’ll get you that Shirley Temple. On the house,” you add.

Jeff waggles his eyebrows and Trevor lets out a low wolf-whistle as Eddie follows you. Gareth is still traumatized from the towel incident to mess with him.

He used to flirt with bartenders all the time; the more out of his league they were, the more fun it was to shoot his shot. But he’s out of practice now, and it doesn’t help that he’s completely intimidated by you.

Think, Munson, think, he wills himself. “So, uh, what’s your name?” You give him your name, and he smiles. “That’s a kickass name, yeah.” A ‘kickass name’? That’s the best you could come up with?

You only laugh at his response. “I mean, I’m not named after Kirk Hammett, but it’s not half bad.”

“Nah, it’s a good name.” Okay, enough with the name, Jesus. “How long have you been a bartender?”

“Feels like forever,” you muse. “It’s my night gig; just a way to make money while I’m working on my novel.” You drop some maraschino cherries into a clean glass. “Fun fact: thinking about publishing a book pays zero dollars.”

“You’re an author?” Eddie asks incredulously. “What kinda book are you writing?”

A blush creeps into your cheeks. “An aspiring author, I guess,” you say shyly, “but it’s a fantasy novel, like a Lord of the Rings type of thing.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “You’ve read Tolkien?” Duh; she literally just compared her work to his. Why else would she do that?

“He’s one of my favorite authors,” you admit, pouring the sweet grenadine and ginger ale before sliding the glass to him. “Him, Stephen King, Mary Shelley…”

“No fuckin’ way,” he breathes, and you look at him quizzically. “I mean, I’ve never met someone so pretty who was also into fantasy.” 

You giggle at the compliment. “Well, maybe we could talk more about it sometime? Like, when I’m not on the clock?”

Eddie’s head spins at the offer. “You drink coffee?” he blurts out. He couldn’t stand the stuff when he was younger, but after far too many sleepless nights with a colicky infant, he’d acquired a taste for it.

“I do,” you nod, grabbing the pen from behind your right ear and snatching the nearest unused napkin you can find. “Let me give you my phone number, if you wanna call me.”

They’re the most beautiful ten digits Eddie’s ever seen. “If I wanna…of course, yeah, that sounds great.” He folds the napkin carefully before putting it in his pocket, not wanting to smudge the ink. “I’ll call you tomorrow afternoon?”

“I’ll be at home, writing,” you laugh. “See you around, Eddie.”

“Yeah, see ya…thanks for your number,” he manages before darting back to the band, beaming like a kid who just woke up to a pile of presents on Christmas morning. “Oh, shit,” he says suddenly, reaching into his wallet and fumbling for some cash, pulling out a crumpled five-dollar bill.

“I told you,” you remind him with the smile that makes him swoon, “I’ll cover this one. Use the money you’re saving to buy something awesome for Kirk.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Gotta at least leave a tip for excellent service. And for managing not to tell those idiots back there to shut the fuck up.” Although he wouldn’t have been mad if you had. At this point, he didn’t think there was anything you could do that would turn him off.

“Nah, they’re harmless,” you wave off his statement. “Trust me, that’s nothing compared to some of the things guys say to me.” You shudder at the memory of the perverted statements leaving their whiskey-soaked lips.

Eddie sits up straighter. “Like what?” he asks, voice brimming with concern. 

“Oh, you know.” You try to sound casual. “Commenting on my body, grabbing my ass, asking to take me home–even when I can see that they’re wearing a wedding ring.”

“Sounds like you need a bodyguard,” he muses, taking a sip of his drink, rings clinking against the glass. The sugar perks him up as soon as it hits his tongue. 

“You offering?” It comes out more salacious than you’d anticipated, but you’re not about to take it back. The look on his face is priceless; he’s clearly not used to people flirting with him so brazenly. 

You watch as Eddie gives a shy smile, caught off-guard yet again. He toys with his necklace before answering. “Gotta earn my free drinks somehow. Otherwise, I’m just a mooch.”

“Yeah, but you’re a really cute mooch, so…” you giggle, wiping down the bar with a nearby towel. “I’d call it even.”

He nearly chokes on his drink. You think he’s cute? Really cute? He wants to ask if it’s a joke, or a prank that the guys put you up to. But you seem so genuine, and it’s been years since anyone has made him feel this special, so he swallows his insecurities. “Th-thanks,” he stutters. “I think it’s mostly the guitar; makes me look like a big shot.”  

“I think it’s your eyes. Or your smile,” you counter, placing your hand on top of his. “But the guitar certainly doesn’t hurt.” You glance down at his ringed fingers. “None of these symbolize an everlasting union, do they?”

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p dramatically. “Just my commitment to tacky jewelry.”

You laugh, leaning in a bit closer to him. “I think I can handle that.” And for a moment, the world stops as Eddie’s breath hitches. He’s desperate to kiss you, but he’s sticky with sweat and doesn’t want to do anything in the dingy bar where you work. No, you deserve a nice date at a fancy restaurant with a freshly-showered Eddie Munson.

“Hey, Romeo!” Jeff calls out, walking towards the two of you with the rest of the band. “Wanna grab some pizza before your carriage turns back into a pumpkin?”

No, Eddie thinks crossly, I want to stay here and talk to the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen until closing time. 

“I’ve gotta get back to work anyway,” you reassure him. “But we can continue this conversation over that coffee date.”

Eddie visibly relaxes at the mention of your next meeting. “Abso-fuckin-lutely,” he agrees. And before he can wimp out, he presses his lips to your cheek, watching as your cheeks tinge a delicious shade of pink. 

Look at you, Munson. Back in the game.

--

[jazziwritesthings]

Letters - Lee Know

The is purely fictional.

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: None I think? Friends to lovers

A/N: Part 2 maybe? Idk

********

Arriving back to the dorms after being on tour felt amazing. Minho couldn’t wait to finally sleep in his own bed again. But before he could do anything he knew he had to see you. It seemed they were right when they said that absence makes the heart grow fonder. Sure you texted and video called as much as you could but between the timezones and your job it wasn’t often and for Minho, it wasn’t enough. He still hasn’t admitted it, but he was head over heels for you. So before he did he sent you a text asking you to come to the dorms. He tossed his phone onto his bed and walked to the bathroom to grab a shower. 

By the time he came out of the bathroom you were laying on his bed. Looking up as you had heard the door open you saw a shirtless Minho standing there looking exhausted. There was no warning before you were getting up and wrapping your arms around his waist. He didn’t say anything as he wrapped his arms around her back and laid his cheek against the crown of your head. 

“I missed you.” You muttered with your head resting on his chest. 

“What’s in the box?” He asked, slowly detangling his arms from you. 

“ Oh yeah!” Quickly letting go and turning to grab the box you handed it to him. He quirked his eyebrow at you, giving you a questioning look. 

“It’s cheesy but I wrote you a letter everyday that you were gone.” 

He reached into the box and pulled out one of the folded pieces of paper and began to open it.

“No!” You startled him with a yell. Shaking your head, you took the paper from him and put it back in the box, “ You can’t read them in front of me.” 

He nodded his head, “ Why?” 

Shaking your head you moved the box to the floor as you made yourself comfortable in his bed, “ Because some of it is corny and I don’t want you to make fun of me to my face.” 

He let out a laugh as he pulled on a t-shirt, “ I would never do such a thing.” He turned off the light as you reached for his pillow and threw it at him, missing completely, “ Bullshit!” 

The night was spent talking and cuddling before you both fell into a deep sleep.

His sleep was disturbed as he heard voices. “He doesn't like skinship really, but when it comes to her, he doesn’t care.” 

“Shh. You’ll wake them.”

Minho groaned before he whispered, “ You already have, what do you want?”

He opened his eyes to see Seungmin and Jeongin standing in his doorway. 

“Are you possessed or something?” 

He let out a breathy laugh while shaking his head, “ I wish it was that simple. She uh, she wrote me a letter every day I was gone.” He looked up to gauge the younger members' expressions. Both were unreadable. Minho took in a breath and checked you over to make sure you were still sound asleep, “ I’m so in love with her that I don’t know what to do.” He looked over at the kids as Seungmin said, “ Finally. It’s about time you realized that. Now are you gonna tell her or continue to suffer?” The face he gave the younger members told them that they needed to leave so they did, quietly closing the door behind them. 

You began to stir awake. “ Good morning.” He said as you stretched your limbs before settling back against the pillow, “ It’s nice that your voice is the first thing I heard today.” Shooting him a tired smile. You saw the deep shade of red taking its place on his neck and his ears before he tried to hide under the blanket. 

“ Are you- Are you hiding under the blanket because you’re blushing?” You asked as you tried to pull the blanket from his face. “ No. Nope. Totally not blushing.” He was quick with his movements and got up and left the room in a matter of seconds, leaving you alone on his bed laughing loudly at your flustered friend. 

Finally leaving his room you walked into the living area and saw Seugnmin on the couch. You made your way over to him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, “ What's up Seungminnie?” He placed his hand on your arm before forcing you to let him go as he pulled you on to the couch. You let out a bit of a yell as you tumbled forwards, over the back of the couch, landing ungracefully next to Seungmin. The thudding of footsteps could be heard before Minho was in the living area, looking panicked. “What happened?” Once he saw you were okay he sort of relaxed. “ Oh you know, Seungmin just tried to kill me.”

“I did not!” 

“You did too! Pulling me over the couch!”

“You landed on the couch, you're fine.” 

This bickering kept going back and forth. You’d known Minho since elementary school and since Seungmin was his first friend at JYP he automatically became your friend too, resulting in a sibling-like relationship. As far as you were concerned Seugnmin was your little brother.

After hours and hours of conversation, food and games it was getting late, “ I should really get home guys, I have work in the morning.” You stated as you slowly got up from the couch and walked to the door. “ I’ll walk you!” 

You and Minho began the walk in comfortable silence. A few blocks from the dorms Minho spotted the convenience store you both frequent, “ Hey.” He nudged you and nodded his head towards the shop, silently asking. You looked up and met his eyes, your own sparkling, “You thinking what I'm thinking?” He nodded his head and both spoke at the same time,

 “ Ice Cream.” 

After getting your ice creams you began to walk again, only making it to the bench in front of your building. You watched as he sat down and patted the space next to him. You sat down next to him and gave him a questioning look. 

“ I have something I really need to say. So I need you to be quiet for a bit, okay?” 

Nodding your head you reached for his hand as this topic seemed to have him nervous. 

“ I know this is going to change everything but I can’t keep it to myself anymore. If you don’t want to see me or speak to me or be my friend anymore I will understand, okay? But I fell in love with you, and I'm sorry but I can’t do shit about it.” 

He pulled his hands from yours as he stood with his back to you, not able to look you in the eyes as you broke his heart. You stood and gently grabbed his hand in yours again,

 “I’ve loved you since you threw that rock at me in 1st grade.”

He whipped around to look at you, checking your face for any sign of a lie. When he didn’t see anything other than love and adoration in your eyes he quickly closed the space between you. Tenderly cupping your face in his hands he closed the gap between your lips. Kissing you so sweetly and softly. 

He gently broke the connection between your lips pulling his head back a bit, “Wait, don’t pull away, not yet.” He let out a soft chuckle at your whine. You slowly opened your eyes and they met his sparkling brown ones as he rested his forehead on yours. 

“Well, isn’t this interesting.” He spoke softly, only for your ears. You let out a laugh as you pulled away a bit, “I will actually hit you Minho.” You warned. He smiled as he gently connected your lips again, “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this.” 

[daddy-dins-girl]

Playdate - Chapter Seven

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

AO3 link

pairing: Marcus Pike x f! Reader x Dave York

Word Count: 5.2k

Notes: I am posting TWO new chapters back-to-back (7 & 8) as they take place at the same time but from multiple POV's. I'd recommend reading chapter 8 as soon as you can after this one, so its fresh in your brain ;)

Chapter Warnings (minor spoilers in the tags...): 18+ MDNI. Soft!Dave York (like, you can't even stand it. Soft Dave needs his own warning). Porn WITH plot (who gave me the right?). All the feelings (I'm sorry). Unprotected P in V. Creampie. Angst! (in MY porn story? who am I?). Infidelity-ish I guess, technically (look these are just 3 idiots in love who don't know what tf they're doing, okay?). Plus probably ever other tag from previous chapters... you know the drill by now for this series.

MASSIVE thank you for @janaispunk for beta'ing and being my sounding board. I really appreciate all your help!

Page dividers by the generous and talented @saradika-graphics

You power nap through the rest of the afternoon and into the early evening, thanks to the blackout curtains drawn shut but mostly in large part due to the strenuous activities the three of you had gotten up to just before you’d passed out. You remember your eyes closing involuntarily as you lay half draped over Dave, Marcus snuggled into your back and his own breaths began to even out just as yours did.

Soft lips pressed to your forehead and a light hand brushing over your hair causes you to stir some time later and you wake feeling rested, a satisfied smile playing at your lips as you rouse to consciousness.

“Hi Baby” you murmur into your pillow. You don’t even need to open your eyes to know it’s your husband.

He presses a kiss to your forehead once more and breathes out a whispered “I’m sorry” that makes whatever peacefulness you were reveling in vanish in an instant.

His words are enough to get your eyes to fully open. You stare up at him, brow furrowed in confusion as to what on earth he could possibly have to be sorry about and when your gaze sets on him he’s seated next to you on the side of the bed and looking far too overly dressed in tan khakis and a black polo shirt, the expression on his handsome features substantiating his remorse.

“Where are you going?” You ask, concern laced in your tone as you push yourself up into a seated position. Maybe you all are just going out for a late dinner or something and he was apologizing for having to wake you up from your nap for it, but the frown of his face quickly dispels that theory.

He lets out a sigh and hangs his head slightly. It’s then you notice his hair is wet so he must’ve just gotten out of the shower. “Something came up, at work. An emergency” he clarifies, gaze still fixed to the comforter he’s sitting on rather than looking at you. “Cab’s downstairs already.”

“You have to go?!” You ask, incredulous. Your voice raises maybe a little higher than you should’ve let it, but you were rightly shocked that your husband has to leave you now, on your birthday no less.

“Where are you going?” Dave’s voice immediately floods into the room and you look up to see him wandering into the bedroom, towel around his hips and another around his neck that he’s using to dry his hair.

He must’ve showered just after Marcus, you presume.

“Uh work. Last minute thing just… came up. I um, I’ll try not to be long” Marcus continues, turning back towards you for the last part.

“There’s no one else?” You try, sounding a little pouty, you know, but you really don’t want him to go.

He sighs, taking your hands in his and bringing them up to place a kiss to your knuckles before whispering another “I’m sorry” against them.

“But look why don’t you order dinner, or go downstairs for it even, just have it all billed back to the room and I’ll take care of it later, ok?”

“Ok…” you sigh, eyes cast downward. You feel silly for feeling so emotional, he’s literally spent the last 24 hours at your side giving you the best birthday you’ve ever had and you’re still near tears just because he has to leave you. Marcus has a very important job and you know these things come up from time to time. He’s been dragged away from anniversaries, birthdays, even your cousin's wedding on one occasion but it all came with the territory of being married to a senior Federal Agent and you knew that and had accepted it long ago so you just offer a small nod of your head, unable to bring yourself to look at him right now. You don’t want to make him feel more guilty than he likely already does by seeing the disappointment that’s surely written across your features.

Dave is oddly quiet, too. Still hanging back at the doorway leading into the bedroom you presume as you haven’t heard him moving around. With a sigh Marcus leans down and presses a kiss to the crown of your head and puts a comforting hand on your shoulder before pushing himself up and off the bed. “I’ll call” he promises. You nod again, forcing a smile to your lips as you finally raise your head to look up at him.

“Hurry back” you playfully scold, reaching a hand out to lightly smack his hip with the back of your hand and he chuckles.

“Happy Birthday Babe” he tells you once more before reaching for your hand and giving it a small squeeze. He sighs, settles his shoulders, drops your hand and finally turns away from you. You sit up in bed and watch as he crosses the room until he reaches the doorway where Dave is still standing there in a towel.

“I’ll um... Yeah, I’ll see ya” is all Marcus offers to him before brushing past him. A few seconds go by and you hear the front door of the room open and then click shut.

Well… now what?

“Are you um… are you hungry?” You ask Dave, suddenly feeling awkward as you bunch the sheet up a little higher under your armpits to ensure you stay covered up. “We could order something again, or even go down to the restaurant to eat if you wanna get out of this room” you shrug.

The room feels suddenly too small for the two of you. Like you shouldn’t be in such close proximity to each other without Marcus present (especially not in the state of undress you’re both in). It’s not that you feel uncomfortable around Dave, more like the opposite, and therein lies your problem. Dave makes you feel… a lot. But discomfort is not one of those feelings. The only thing uncomfortable about being around Dave is probably how comfortable you feel around him now. Like you could just walk across the room to him right now and throw your arms around his shoulders and kiss him like it’s a habit.

But you can’t. Of course you can’t. Marcus didn’t explicitly implore you not to, but he also didn’t outright give his blessing either. It feels wrong without Marcus here and you think both you and Dave can feel it, the way the energy shifted in the room the moment your husband stepped out of it. You have been alone with Dave before of course, but only once, and with your husband's enthusiastic permission. Insistence, even. Now there’s a sexual tension hanging in the air that makes this massive suite feel suffocating.

Finally after what feels like a moment dragged on far too long, Dave answers. “Should probably get going, right?” he shrugs his shoulders, voicing aloud what you’re both thinking.

You don’t want him to leave. Of course you don’t. But you both know he needs to.

“Yeah, right” your gaze is cast downwards again as your fingers pick at a loose thread in the soft sheet covering you. You suck in a breath, willing for no tears to fall to your cheeks as you begin to feel overwhelmed with loss, with what your evening had become versus what you had managed to conjure it up to be in your fantasies while you were falling asleep just hours earlier.

You had thoughts. A lot of thoughts. Especially after what had inspired earlier, you were ready and willing to experience a lot more of that and you’d told yourself you were going to be brave and honest and adult about it and tell them both exactly what you wanted, but now here you were about to be left alone in this hotel room. Maybe you’d just pack everything up and go home, text Marcus and let him know to meet you back there after work. You didn’t want to sit around this giant reminder of what you were missing out on tonight.

You remain seated in the bed, back against the headboard and arms wrapped around your legs that are bent at the knees in front of you, hugging yourself as Dave wanders around the bedroom getting dressed in fresh clothes and cleaning up all of his belongings, stuffing them back into his overnight bag. You glance at him occasionally as he busies himself packing, eventually moving out of the bedroom and throughout the rest of the suite to gather what’s left.

“Think that’s it” he sighs as he re-enters the bedroom a minute or so later and takes one final glance around to ensure he hasn’t forgotten anything.

“I’ll walk you out” you say, suddenly remembering your manners and Dave manages a small chuckle but ultimately holds up his hand in dismissal.

“Don’t need to get up on my account, I’ll see myself out”

You nod your head, a murmured “ok” leaving your lips as you wrap your arms back around your knees again.

Dave crosses the room over to your side, hesitation in his steps until he finally reaches you. He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead and then smiles softly as he pulls away. “Happy Birthday” he tells you. “Hope it was a good one” he adds with a playful wink and your lips instantly spread into a grin across your face, despite your less than happy mood.

“Best one yet” you promise him. It was the truth, after all.

“Goodnight” he finally says, after a long drawn out silence stretches between you and he turns on his heel, exiting the bedroom. A moment later you hear the main door exiting the room open and shut again and just like that, he’s gone, and you’re alone.

Your head falls back down to your knees and you gently shake it back and forth, willing yourself to be strong and not break down to tears like you want to. It was silly, really, but dammit if it didn’t hurt all the same.

With a huff into the empty room you decide you’re not just going to lie there feeling sorry for yourself all night. You’re going to get up, clean up and start packing to meet Marcus back at home like you had thought about earlier. It was too sad sitting in this gorgeous suite all alone, watching a clock or your phone waiting on your husband to return. You get up and throw on one of Marcus’ t-shirts and a fresh pair of panties, quickly use the bathroom and brush your teeth and then begin to wander about the room, picking up clothes and toiletries and any other of yours or Marcus’ belongings and start packing them into the small suitcase. Once everything is packed you take a look around the suite and realize what a disaster you’ve all made. Between dirty dishes, empty coffee cups, liquor and champagne bottles, and a haphazardly made bed, you decide to tidy up a bit as well before you leave. You know that’s Housekeeping's job but you don’t think you could live with yourself knowing you left a room in the state this one was in so you begin about tossing away trash, collecting empty bottles to line them up on the small counter top and fixing up the bed at least halfway decently. The “do not disturb” sign had been stationary on the outside of the suite door handle since your arrival last night so no cleaning staff had bothered to come by and you couldn’t in good conscience leave the room the way it was.

You stand in the middle of the living room and take a final glance around, satisfied with how you’re leaving things now and go to turn back to the bedroom to get dressed and collect your suitcase when there’s a sudden knock at the door. Your brow furrows at who it could be but you head over to pull it open away, thinking maybe your husband had decided to take the liberty to order dinner for you, rightfully assuming you would skip it all together had it been solely up to you.

You reach the door and pull it open, ready to let whoever is on the opposite side of the door know that you won’t be staying to eat but the words die on your tongue as it swings open and reveals what - or rather who - waits on the other side.

“Hi” you breathe, voice barely above a whisper.

“Hi” he murmurs back, eyes boring into yours.

With one large hand planted against the door frame, Dave looms over you as a dead silence stretches on between you. You know what he’s waiting for. He’s waiting for you to tell him to leave, that he shouldn’t be here. He still has his duffel in his other hand which means he didn’t even make it to his car. From the close proximity you can smell the alcohol on his breath, maybe he only made it as far as the hotel bar and convinced himself to turn right back around.

Either way, you know you just don’t have it in you to turn him away. He knows it, too. Despite not even knowing you very long, he’s always been able to read you like a book.

There’s always been a pull between the two of you, a magnetic attraction. But over the past couple of visits, and certainly over the last 24 hours, something has shifted. You’d felt it, and given the way Dave was looking at you now, you know he did too.

Dave is first to break the silence with a whispered “fuck” before he pushes his way fully inside. Duffel dropped to the floor just inside the entryway, his left arm wraps around your waist and lifts you easily as his other hastily slams the door shut before joining the other to secure you to his body. Your legs wrap around him and both his hands grab hold at your ass while yours wrap around his neck and your lips meet in a heated frenzy as Dave carries you further inside.

“Where?” Dave mumbles against your lips between kisses, halfway across the living room by now.

“Bed. Take me to bed” you answer easily. You don’t want a quick fuck on the couch or against a wall. There’s a yearning inside of you that can’t be fully satisfied unless you do this right. Dave hums his approval into your mouth, passing by the couch and into the next room until he reaches the foot of the bed and he stops to let you down, your body slowly sliding down his front until your bare feet hit the floor. Your arms remain around his neck, his at your waist and he looks down at you, forehead resting against yours, holding your gaze for several long seconds.

“Thought you left” you manage to say, voice barely above a whisper.

“Me too,” he admits. Your breaths mingle in the limited space between you, the temperature in the room suddenly stifling. Dave can feel the way your body slightly trembles in his arms, just as you can easily read the longing in his gaze. You want this. You both do.

“Tell me to go” he tries, voice so low and soft it’s barely discernible, his eyes falling shut and thumbs absently rubbing back and forth at your hips.

“Can’t” you answer simply. He knows it’s the truth.

“Then tell me to stay” he tries instead, eyes opening again to search yours, needing your consent, your affirmation that you feel this too, whatever is inside of him. He needs to know that you need him as much in this moment as he needs you. That you’re willing to cross this line with him.

You don’t answer him with words. You can’t. Instead you lower one arm down to take his hand into yours and you lead him around the bed, turning once you reach the head of it and dropping his hand to bring both of yours to the waistband of his jeans, slowly popping each one of the buttons of his 501’s until they’re fully open and you’re able to push the denim down his hips. He helps you free him from the confines of his jeans until they’re bunched at the floor and he quickly toes out of his shoes before kicking his pants the rest of the way off. His t-shirt goes next as he reaches behind him and drags it up and over his torso, quickly tossing it aside before both his hands come down to cradle your face and he stands before you in only his boxer briefs.

Words still unspoken, your hands come up to splay across his chest and give him a gentle guiding push. He follows your lead, sinking down onto the mattress and gets seated with his back against the headboard, bringing his legs up to stretch out in front of him as you carefully crawl on top of him, one knee bent on either side of his hips as you straddle his lap and then lower your forehead to rest against his, bringing a hand down to gently caress against his cheek.

Dave lets out a desperate little groan before pressing forward enough so he can capture your mouth. He kisses you slow and deep, moaning into you when your lips part and his tongue brushes yours. It’s not the bruising, desperate and rushed kisses you’re used to from Dave. It’s soft and romantic and decidedly intimate.

His right hand trails up your side under the oversized t-shirt and cups a bare breast before deft fingers begin to play with your nipple, gently pinching and rolling it between the pads of his fingers while your back arches into his touch, desperate for more. He takes the hint and pulls you back just enough so he can tug the t-shirt up and over your head, tossing it carelessly to the floor before pulling you closer once more. His mouth trails downwards, placing hot open-mouthed kisses to your jaw, down the column of your throat, your collarbone, and finally finding purchase on your other breast, mouthing over the pert bud before gently sucking it into his mouth.

You moan at his actions, hands coming to card through his hair, gently scraping his scalp with your fingernails.

“God you make me feel so good” you pant and he moans his appreciation for your praise into your heated flesh. “So good to me, baby.”

He continues to kiss and lick and suckle at your breasts, paying each one equal attention and his hand pleasuring whichever one his mouth isn’t currently fastened to and you arch further into him, head thrown back and allowing your hips to grind against his groin. He’s growing hard underneath you, you can feel him swell and begin to strain against the tight fabric of his underwear as you take your own pleasure from him, reveling in the friction created between your legs with each slow drag of his hardening length between your cotton covered core.

“God, fuck!” You whine, swearing you could come from this alone. Dave groans into your breasts, hands coming to take hold at your hips and help guide your movements to grind down further into him.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful” Dave lets out, breathless as you rock on top of him, your body on full display as you take out your pleasure on him with each downward press of your pelvis into his. “My perfect girl” he praises before surging upwards to capture your mouth with his once more, tongues entwining immediately into that all too familiar dance now as he wraps a strong arm around your waist and easily flips you both until you’re underneath him, his body weight gently pressing you deeper into the mattress as he kisses you until you’re both left breathless.

He’s cradled deliciously right between your legs as you lay on your back with your knees bent and raised in the air to accommodate him as he slowly continues to grind against you and before long it gets to be simultaneously too much, yet not enough and you reach down, desperately shoving at the soft material of his boxers to get them off. He laughs against your lips between kisses but quickly obliges your silent request, aiding you in pulling them all the way down before he can kick them away and then slowly he lowers himself down the length of your body, pausing to kiss and lick and nip at whatever piece of flesh he finds along his descent until he’s up on his elbows with his face hovering right above your core.

“Dave, fuck” you whine, hand instinctively reaching out to push through his hair.

Dave however seems intent on driving you to the brink of your sanity as he places a soft kiss to your still covered mound, then gently rubs his nose through the seam of your folds and finally sticks his tongue out to lap a few times at your panties, creating enough of a wet spot between his saliva and your own arousal that it nearly feels like there’s no barrier between you at all, your white panties surely transparent by now.

“Please, please, please.” It’s barely above a whisper. A pathetic whine, really, the way you beg for him. Need him.

He turns his head, placing little kisses at your thighs and hips until finally his hands go to the elastic waistband of your panties and he slowly peels them down your legs until you’re finally rid of them and he tosses them to the floor before crawling back up your body and capturing your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing down each one of your moans with his mouth.

“I need you” you confess, breathless and writhing under the solid weight of him.

Dave groans, pulling his lips away from your mouth to nuzzle into your throat instead where he voices his own desperation “need you too. Fuck I need you”.

You moan at his admission, reaching to grab for his face to bring it back to yours but he diverts slightly downwards, bringing the attention of his mouth back to your breasts. He takes one into his mouth while his right hand gropes the other, massaging and kneading the flesh under his large grasp before delicately taking your pebbled nipple between his fingers to pinch and tweak at it until you’re writhing into his touch all over again.

Dave always made sure to prepare you for him, but never had the two of you taken so much time for just foreplay and you feel like you’ve been on the edge of an orgasm for an eternity by now. You’re used to Dave taking you hard and fast but tonight he seems perfectly content on taking his time to unravel you until you’re nothing but putty in his hands, desperate for him to carve you out and mold you into his body however he sees fit.

Before long his free hand drifts down your side and goes between your legs and when he feels how absolutely soaked and ready you are he lets out a little growl of need and for a moment you’re certain the Dave you’re used to is about to take over. He’s going to toss you around until you’re in the position he wants and drive his cock into you so hard and fast that you forget your own name and can only scream out his.

But you wait, and it doesn’t happen. He continues to gently kiss, lick and play with your breasts while his other hand presses into your folds, slides down to plunge two fingers inside of you and raises his thumb to circle your clit. Your hands become lost in his hair, desperate for anything to hold onto as you grind yourself into his hand, panting, moaning and whispering little bits of praise at how well he takes care of you and Dave is absolutely eating it up. With every little adoration that slips past your lips he moans or whimpers into your skin, eager for your praise and eager to please you and it’s night and day to the Dave you’re used to that tells you to stay still and take what he has to give you.

A third finger joins the first two as he slowly strokes your walls, curling them at just the right spot deep inside of you that has you mewling and whimpering under his delicate touch. They drag in and out of your core at a slow but precise pace as he works you open, his mouth never faltering from pleasuring your breasts while his hand drives you to the brink of sanity. He knows your body well enough by now that he can sense when you’re getting close and he amps up his pace, fingers gliding in and out of your wet heat easily with renewed vigor as the lewd sounds of your gushing arousal coating his digits and slapping of skin against skin fills the small space of the bedroom.

Before long, you finally cum on his fingers, back arching and a long drawn out moan releasing from the depths of your throat and Dave’s mouth climbs back up your body to swallow down the rest of your moans while his fingers continue their delightful torture below, working you through your orgasm as your walls pulse and contract around his thick fingers.

“Oh my god” you sigh, hands wrapping around Dave’s head as he buries his face in the side of yours and his hand finally leaves your sex to rest at your hip instead, giving you some reprieve. He shifts to lie on his side next to you now, pressing in close against your body while you lie on your back, body still trembling as you come back down from your high.

“You’re so beautiful” he murmurs, placing a soft kiss just below your ear while his thumb absently runs back and forth against your hip. “So perfect” another kiss, this time to the underside of your jaw and you turn on your side to face him. “So good to me” he concludes, pressing a kiss to your lips.

He’s being so sweet and attentive and incredibly affectionate and though you definitely like the harder, dominating side of Dave, there’s something about his softness that you’re finding just as addictive.

You���re well and truly fucked now. Literally, figuratively.

You try to ignore the way your heart swells as you lie here on your sides face to face, slowly kissing and exploring each other with your hands. Dave’s touch is slow and methodical, like he needs to map out every inch of you to commit to memory like he might never see it again and you arch into his touch every chance you get, desperate to feel more of him. It’s not long before your body is craving him again and with how you can feel him pressed against your belly, you know he needs you too. You roll on top of him and take his face in both hands, ensuring his eyes focus on you and they do, his hands stilling on either side of your hips.

“Make love to me. Please David”

The words barely get past your lips before Dave surges upward, mouth capturing yours in a desperate and heated kiss. His arms wrap around you and he flips you both so you’re underneath him again as his tongue invades the heat of your mouth, the wet muscle wrapping around yours as he seemingly puts every emotion he has into the passionate kiss.

Below you he’s gently lifting one of your legs up so it’s bent at the knee before his hand goes between his own legs to guide himself to line up at your entrance. It’s a slow press of his hips that pushes him inside of you and you both moan into each other's mouth once he enters you, filling you up so completely. He stills once he’s buried to the hilt and and pulls back from your mouth so his forehead rests against yours, your panting breaths mingling in the limited space between you.

Your name leaves his lips in a whisper and it nearly catches you off guard. You’re not even sure you’ve ever heard him say it before. He’s called you lots of names, sure, but never your own and a warmth spreads through your whole body at how it sounds coming from his lips like a forbidden secret meant only for your ears. Your hands go back to his face and pull him back in, your mouths melding together as he slowly begins to move.

“My god you’re fucking perfect” he breathes out as he pulls back just enough so that he can look into your eyes as he gently rocks his hips in and out of you and both your legs come up, locking your ankles together behind his back to keep him impossibly close as he ruts into you. “My perfect girl” he praises, eyes slipping shut as his forehead rests against yours and he focuses all his attention on how good you feel completely wrapped around him, consumed by him.

He fucks you slow and deep for what seems like an eternity, neither of you in any hurry to finish, just wanting to feel. Every slow drag of his cock against the wet heat of your walls sends a tingle down your spine that has your toes curling, ankles digging deeper into the soft and sweat-slicked flesh of his back. Eventually though the need for a release comes on strong and fast for you both and refuses to be ignored. Your legs wrap around his torso a little tighter, your hand in his hair gripping harder and his hot breaths against your neck getting more ragged as his hips pick up the pace.

“Close?” he asks between labored breaths into the shell of your ear and you nod against him.

“Mmmhmm, fuck I’m so close, please”

“C’mere” he breathes, turning onto his side and shifting you into the same position, lying on your right side with your back to his front. He lifts your left leg that rests on top of your right so he can slip in between them again and slide right back into your welcoming heat, both of you groaning in pleasure at how much deeper he can reach inside of you at this angle.

“Oh my god” you cry out when he begins to piston back and forth.

“Right there?” he breathes against the side of your face and you whimper unintelligibly, nodding your head before turning it back so you can capture his lips, allowing him to swallow down each of your moans.

The hand still hooked under your leg wanders slightly until it reaches its prize between your legs, deft fingers pressing down exactly how you need them to and rubbing small tight circles against your puffy, swollen clit and that’s all it takes. Within moments you’re falling apart, a wrecked sob leaving your throat as your arm that’s not currently underneath you comes up to wrap around Dave’s neck, securing him to you as you whimper, whine and moan into his mouth, your orgasm completely taking hold over you for several long seconds.

“Baby, I can’t, I’m - fuck” he groans, holding himself back with no small amount of effort from finishing. The way your walls clamp down around him as he feels your release coating him, your limbs entwined all around his own that tremble and pulse like his own second heartbeat.

“Let go, it’s ok” you manage between shaky breaths, neck still craned so your lips are just a whisper away from his. “Wanna feel you, please. Want you inside me. Fill me up, baby. Please”

The moment the last words leave your lips he pushes in deep one final time and lets go, a strangled groan leaving his lips as he empties inside of you, pulsing as he paints the inside of your walls with rope after rope of his warm spend.

“Oh my god, oh my god” he groans into your throat as he slowly begins moving his hips again, ensuring every last drop of his seed stays buried deep inside you.

“Mmm hmmm” you whine, a desperate little sob escaping you as he continues to fuck his cum into you. “David, baby, god don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop”. He lets out a low growl, fucking you through the aftershocks of both your orgasms for as long as he can manage, then gives one final deep push as far as he can possibly reach and stills for several long seconds until he’s forced to pull back and finally, regretfully, slips out of you.

“Baby,” he sighs, like he’s physically pained by pulling out of you, wishing he could stay there forever. He gently lowers your leg back down and his arms reach around underneath you to embrace you and he rolls you so you’re on top of him, neither of you concerned about your sweat slicked bodies or the sticky mess where his spent cock rests against your swollen sex.

“That was incredible” he confesses in a low whisper before planting a kiss to your temple, a strong arm coming up to wrap around your head and hold you close, afraid if he lets go you might just disappear.

In your post-orgasmic clarity you feel yourself begin to tense as you try to comprehend what exactly you just did and more importantly, what it means. Whatever that was, felt so different than every time before with Dave. You want to open your mouth to say something to him, to discuss what just happened and hopefully get some kind of gauge on what he’s feeling but your brain is a jumbled mess and the words don’t come in time before he’s gently rolling you off of him to get up.

He grabs for one of the discarded towels from earlier that you’d tossed over the back of the armchair in the room and brings it between your legs, gently wiping away any leftover mess that’s there before he bends down and places a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m going to take a shower” he tells you and you can do little more than nod your head. You wish you could form at least one coherent thought in your brain but they all escape you. You don’t even know where to begin, or what you even want to say. Or if you should be even having any sort of intimate conversation between the two of you without Marcus present.

None of it feels right, except for the part where it all feels right, and that alone terrifies you. You flip over onto your side and nestle into the pillows, willing for your brain to just shut down and provide you with a few minutes of solace. By some miracle, peace does come to you in the form of sleep, your body too spent and exhausted to stay awake a moment longer and you’re passed out before you even hear the shower stop running.

You don’t wake up to the snick of the hotel door closing shut after Dave gathered up every last piece of evidence of himself in the room and left without a word while you slept soundly, blissfully unaware that when his lips pressed against your forehead right before he walked out the door that it was the last time he intended on ever seeing you again. Either of you.

Next Chapter

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[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Say Please

This will fill the Begging space in my @jacklesversebingo card.

Summary: Ben knows just how to torment Y/N.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Smut. Pretty filthy smut. Dom/sub. Dom Ben (Soldier Boy) sub reader. Fingering. Rough fingering. Oral (m/f receiving). Cum shots. Facial. Slight humiliation. Demeaning language. Extreme orgasm denial. Extreme edging. Begging. Spanking (mentions of belt spanking). Semi-public sex. Waking reader with oral sex and fingering (so, slight somnophilia). Unprotected PinV sex. Mentions of punishment.

Pairings: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Reader

Word Count: 2,285

A/N: So, don't ask me what corner of my brain came up with this filth. I couldn't tell you. But I hope you enjoy the dirtiness.

It can be read completely separately or it can be read as a companion piece/sequel to Say Thank You. I envision it as the same reader, but there's nothing in either fic that says they have to be read together. They're both reader inserts, but Say Thank You is written with a second person POV (you), and Say Please has a third person POV (she/her).

Also, I promise not every entry for my bingo card will be complete smut. 😁 Incidentally, if anyone has any requests that spark in their mind from the bingo prompts above, don't hesitate to send me an ask.

Both the beautiful divider below and at the bottom were created by @silkholland .

“Ben, please.” Y/N’s voice was begging desperately, but she still whispered low enough to be nearly inaudible above the droning speech of the man discussing the latest polling numbers of Vought’s superheroes. It was all statistics, and percentages, and Ben was bored stiff, so he’d returned to his favorite distraction - seeing how much he could torment Y/N.

She sat beside him now at the far end of the room, and beneath the table, Ben was slowly pushing inside her, just giving her the tip of his middle finger while swirling his index around her clit.

He was simply continuing on with her torment from earlier that morning. 

She’d woken up to the feel of him sucking her hard, aching clit between his lips while penetrating her deep and rough with all four fingers. She must have been moaning harshly in her sleep because her throat hurt. As consciousness dawned, she felt her orgasm cresting, seconds away from erupting. Her sheets were soaked beneath her and she screamed out Ben’s name harshly just before he ripped his hand away from her and left her bereft and begging him to come back and finish her off.

But Ben had simply smirked. “Come over here and swallow me down, princess, and maybe we’ll see.” 

He crooked a finger in her direction as he shifted to lean back on his elbows so he could watch her crawl towards him and then slide her lips down his cock. She took him deep into her throat, hoping that making him cum would make him feel the need to reciprocate. 

But she should have known better. 

Instead, when he was close, Ben pushed her off his cock and back against her pillows. He stood up on the bed, towering over her like a Titan, and pumping his rock hard cock in his big hand only a few times before spurting white and hot onto her body. He covered her completely; her cunt, stomach, tits and face were all painted with his cum, and it left Y/N shaking for her own release. But he bucked his hips reflexively a couple more times, and then stepped down from the bed.

He sat down, naked, in the chair next to the bed and held a finger up as she started to rise. “Uh uh, my sweet little whore. You’re not going anywhere til you clean yourself up. Start by pushing some of my cum into your cunt.”

She looked at him, slightly confused, but he just smiled, his bright green eyes shining with the power he knew he held over her. 

“Push it in.” He repeated. “Use your fingers.” His voice hardened slightly. “But you will not cum.”

Y/N felt her skin flush, burning hot - part passion, part humiliation - as she scooped his still warm seed off her lower belly, and soft mound, pushing it along her seam and into her pussy. She was a sopping mess as she continued to push his thick cum into her hole. Her body thrummed, and her clit was so sensitive she hissed every time she accidentally brushed against it.

Ben’s next command made her almost want to cry. “”Rub that cum around and around that pretty, pert little clit of yours. Turn towards me and spread your legs wide so I can watch you.”

Y/N whimpered, but did what she was told, pointing her feet towards him before drawing up her knees and then pushing them down toward the bed as she took more cum from her tits and pushed the rapidly cooling liquid towards her core.

“Spread that pussy wide for me, doll, and show me how you touch yourself when you think about me.”

Y/N bit into her bottom lip as she circled her clit with her middle finger. It ached and throbbed so hard she felt like her whole body might burst if she couldn’t cum soon. But as though he was psychically linked to her body, Ben knew when she was, once again, mere seconds away from reaching her climax and he barked at her again.

“Don’t fucking cum, little whore. You’ll regret it.”

He didn’t expand on his threat, but he didn’t have to. Y/N was all too familiar with his punishments. His hands were strong and heavy and they stung badly when they landed on her ass again and again. His belt was leather and it felt like it was licking fire onto her skin when Ben cracked it against her, leaving wide, red stripes across her thighs, ass, and tits. 

But some of his worst punishments were based on denial. One time when she came without permission, he wouldn’t let her cum for a month. Her body had been just one, raw, aching nerve by the time the month was up. 

So as she circled her finger around her clit, her need made tears fall, but she held herself back. 

After a few more minutes of watching her, Ben was hard again and he ordered her onto the floor. She got on her knees but he lifted his chin towards her as he stroked himself. “No, lay down and fuck yourself with your fingers.”

She did as he asked, and he came to stand over her again. He stared down at her with a look of power and raging desire swirling together in his gaze. 

“Do you want to come baby?” He asked as he thumbed over the head of his cock. 

Y/N moaned involuntarily. “Yes, Ben, please! Please!”

Ben’s mouth quirked up in a cocky smile. “Say that again, slut. Beg me.”

Y/N nodded, willing to do anything. “Please Ben!” She cried out.

“Please what?” Ben asked, continuing her torment.

“Please!” Y/N practically screamed. “Please let me come.” Her breath stopped as she stared up at him, her fingers moving slowly in and out of her hole. She knew his answer by the gleam in his eye, before he even said it.

“No.”

Y/N moved her head back and forth in denial of his refusal. Once again Ben came hard, and spurted across her whole body, aiming more for her face this time. By the time he was done, she was a sticky, shaking mess. 

“You can stop now.” Ben told her and she pulled her fingers out of her swollen body. She could feel her core muscles quivering, her clit was painfully swollen and throbbing with need.

He nodded in the direction of the bathroom. “Go get showered and dressed. I need you with me in this boring ass meeting I gotta go to and we leave in a half hour.”

That had been nearly two hours ago, and Ben had spent every minute of their time in this boardroom teasing and tormenting her fevered brain, and writhing body. He’d started with simple, seemingly innocent touches on her lower back, and then slightly higher, wrapping his hand around her upper arm and brushing his fingertips against the side of her breast. Her thin white blouse did nothing to protect her from the electric charge of his touch.

Eventually though, when they were seated, he’d begun moving his hand beneath the cover of the tabletop. He set his gloved hand on her bare thigh and then slowly moved it higher and higher. Soon the pads of his fingers were rubbing against the soaked cotton of her panties, and then pushing them aside to sink a finger into her, while circling her clit with another.

Now, she was doing everything she could not to come, not to cry out her desperation; she was biting her lip so hard she could taste blood. Finally Ben pulled his fingers out of her and stood up. 

“I need the room, gentleman.” He said with absolute authority. The dozen men in the room just stared back at him where he stood at the end of the long table. They seemed surprised for a moment before he slammed his fist down on the table. “Now!” He barked, and the men couldn’t get out of the room fast enough. 

When they were gone Ben clicked the lock on the handle and lowered the blinds in the small window beside the door. Then he leaned back against the door and folded his arms over his chest. Somehow, in his emerald green Super-suit, he managed to look even more intimidating than he had earlier. She hadn’t thought that was possible.

“Get on your hands and knees on the table.” 

Unlike the men, Y/N immediately jumped up to follow his command. She climbed a little awkwardly onto the table.

“In the middle.” Ben directed. 

Y/N moved to the middle and stayed there, waiting for his next order. 

“Turn that gorgeous ass and pussy in my direction.” 

She shifted around, trying not to disturb the paperwork that still sat there.

“Push your skirt up to your waist, then pull your panties down. Lean forward on your elbows, forehead to the table.”

Y/N complied; she could feel the way her slick ran down her thigh, and she knew she was dripping onto the table. Someone was going to end up with her cum all over his financial report. 

“Fuck me.” Ben growled. “Those lips are just glistening, princess, just begging for attention.”

“Please, Ben…” Y/N mewled and she honestly wasn’t sure if she was begging him to fuck her with his mouth, or begging him not to.

“Say that again.” Ben’s voice was a deep rumble in his chest. She felt him come up behind her and she gasped harshly as she felt his palm crack down hard onto her ass cheek. 

“Say it, Y/N. Beg. Fucking beg.”

“Please, please, please.” She chanted and she prayed he didn’t ask her again what she was begging for, because she didn’t even know anymore. She just needed him - needed him to end her torment, needed him to give her release, to let her let go; she needed to stop the ache.

With her forehead pressed to the table top she pushed her fist into her mouth to cut off her scream as he leaned forward and slurped his tongue over her, from clit to cunt. Then he stepped back slightly, and used his two hands to spank both her cheeks at once with a fiery, painful sting.

But the pain was nothing compared to the ache of need shuddering across her whole body. Her cunt ached, yes, but so did her nipples, throbbing with every beat of her pulse. Her skin ached to feel him touch her, her lips ached to feel him press his mouth against them.

He returned his mouth to her pussy again, continuing to slurp and lick, and then spearing her deep with his hard tongue. He pulled back a half dozen more times, continuing to redden her ass. 

In the end, Y/N was just a sobbing, aching, dripping thing, pussy high in the air, ass decorated with bright red handprints, just begging and begging him to end her torture. 

Ben stood back to admire his handiwork for a little while. He circled the table looking at her from all angles. He approached her from the front and lifted her chin in his palm, contemplating her tear-stained, flushed cheeks, her lust blown pupils, and her lips - swollen and puffy from biting them over and over.

Her body, her face, her shaking, quivering cunt, her thick, red, fleshy ass - all of it was a work of art. He’d molded and sculpted this beautiful woman into this new creature, this fuck doll who was entirely his. He knew in this moment that there was nothing she would deny him, there was nothing she wouldn’t let him do to her, and that knowledge was an incredibly powerful feeling.

His cock was rock hard beneath his suit and he decided to be merciful and end her torment and his. He dropped her chin and walked back behind her. He unzipped and pulled his cock out. He climbed up onto the table, on his knees behind her; then he turned her so that they were looking down the length of the table. Paperwork and stationery went flying to the floor. 

He slid his fingers up through her slick and gathered it on his finger tips. With his other hand he yanked her head up and back before reaching around and shoving his fingers into her mouth. She gagged on them, but tried to swallow down her own cum. He shoved his fingers down her throat a couple more times just to hear that sound.

Finally he shoved her face back down against the table and slammed himself home in one hard, swift surge. 

Y/N did scream this time, and then he could feel it, her cunt clenching around him, tight and then tighter, her climax milking him. She came and came, screaming and cursing the whole time. Her orgasm was long and intense. And Ben smiled as she started to come down, and he smashed his cock head against her cervix. 

Y/N was shaking from head to toe, and he wasn’t sure if it was the lasting effects of her climax, or the knowledge that punishment was coming.

“You disobeyed me, my little whore.” Ben said, slamming into her one more time before he came deep inside her with a growl, bucking harshly and slapping against her ass.

As soon as he finished he climbed down off the table. Y/N turned her face to him, and he reveled in how wrecked she was, her expression begging pitifully.

“Please, Ben. I’m sorry. Please.”

Ben smiled, wickedly and without sympathy. “Not yet, baby, but you will be.”

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[vivalas-vega]

move on / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader / part two

I’m back !!! I took a little writing hiatus while I dealt w some personal stuff, hopefully not taking anymore writing breaks soon :) I decided I had more story to tell with these two -- lmk what you think!

move on / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader / part two

add yourself to my taglist

read part one

word count: 3.1k

warnings: some angst, some sadness, best friend rooster!!! (or maybe... 👀 hehe no I’m kidding, unless 👀) seriously we all deserve a roo in our lives. I’ve given reader a callsign in this one, meet birdy!!

The Hard Deck roared with life just as it usually did on a weekend, various Navy personnel and civilians alike celebrating the conclusion of another week but the chatter and music didn’t quite reach your ears as you sat sandwiched between Rooster and Bob nursing a lukewarm cider as your mind was somewhere entirely different. Somewhere softer and sweeter, a moment you had replayed probably a thousand times over the last two weeks. 

“Jake, I’m serious, cut it out!” you squealed, grabbing a pillow to defend yourself from his ruthless attacks but it was no use, it was tossed aside before you could even attempt to hit him as his fingers continued tickling into your sides and pulling giggles from your lips that were like music to his ears. They were so pure and unfiltered, a sound of amused joy though you were doing your best to convey otherwise. He finally rested, giving you a moment to catch your breath and he couldn’t help but chuckle as you immediately tensed below him feeling his hands snake across your waist to pull you closer.

“I come in peace, I promise.” he whispered into your hair, pressing kisses along your collarbone and you sighed in content. 

“You’re a pain in my ass,” your words were entirely convincing as he looked up to see the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth and you looked at him as if he’d hung all the stars in the sky.

“Yeah, but you love me anyways.” He continued kissing along the expanse of your exposed skin.

“Unfortunately.” Though it wasn’t unfortunate at all. He made his way up to your face, brushing your hair back that had been left awry after your unsuccessful attempts to squirm away from his attacks to lay kisses along your cheekbones.

“I love you too, Birdy.”

And then when you awoke, he was gone. No note, no trace, and your logical explanation had been he decided to hit the gym before meeting you on base. Something that happened so frequently you didn’t even question it as you went about your morning. Suspicion didn’t creep in until he wasn’t there in the locker room to greet you, no quip about you slacking on your workouts and leaving you in the dust, and certainly no teasing in your ear as you ran drills in the air all day. But this could be explained, right? When you arrived home and noticed that there were in fact some of his things missing, essential things like toothbrushes and his favorite tee shirts you thought something must have happened back home, an emergency that left him running to the airport without time to even wake you, he’d call you just as soon as he could to tell you everything… but that never came. So now here you were, two weeks later in the Hard Deck as you grappled with the fact that he wasn’t ever coming back. There was no explanation.

Rooster and Bob were having a silent conversation that you didn’t pick up on until suddenly Rooster’s hand on your knee broke you from your thoughts. “So uh, have you heard from Jake yet?” He grunted as Bob reached behind you to hit him in the arm, clearly that wasn’t what Bob had in mind when he encouraged him to engage you in some kind of conversation to get you out of your head… a place they both could only assume wasn’t really a good place to be right now.

“What do you think?” you replied, setting down your glass.

“I’m sorry.”

“No sense in apologizing for something you didn’t do, Rooster.” You got up rather suddenly, muttering something about the cider being useless as you went to seek out Penny at the bar who greeted you with a bright smile.

“Hey sweetheart, what can I get you?” 

“Something strong,” you sighed and she quickly rimmed a shot glass with salt before pouring top shelf tequila and topping it off with a lime wedge.

“Might as well be efficient, right?” You gave her a smile before throwing it back, welcoming the burn as it slid down your throat. The burn reminded you that you were in fact here and alive, and the alcohol coursing through your veins helped you return back to your old self even if only a little bit. Maverick watched with worry in his eyes, shooting Penny a look that she nodded away. Penny had been everything you needed her to be these last two weeks. She was no stranger to being left hanging by cocky flyboys, but what she wouldn’t tell you is what Jake had done far surpassed anything Maverick had ever pulled with her… at least Maverick would give her a heads up, even if only a brief email or phone call. This was something else entirely but she chose to ignore that, and showed up in all the right ways. She always poured exactly what you asked for, knowing the right moment to make you a mocktail with a drop of alcohol in the straw and she never asked you about anything you didn’t provide to her first. Everyone else walked on eggshells around you, not sure of how to act or what to say, and always somehow asked the wrong questions at the wrong times but you couldn’t even blame them. You knew they were trying their best and you don’t know what you would do if the roles were reversed. 

You returned to your friends, arranging the pool table for a new round and Coyote offered to play with you. You tried to hide your grimace, you felt bad for the cold shoulder you’d been giving him. It wasn’t Coyote’s fault, he was just as shocked as you had been but it didn’t change the fact that you knew he’d talked to him, knew where he was and maybe even knew the reason. They were facts that were difficult to reconcile but you gave him a forced smile anyways as Rooster made his way down to the bar to talk with Penny in hushed tones as he often found himself doing these days.

“I don’t want to hear it, Bradley, she’s fine.”

“She’s not fine, Penny. I’m honestly getting scared, she’s either here drinking herself half to death or she’s locked away in her room in the pitch black refusing to speak with anyone.”

“It’s been two weeks, she only really accepted things a few days ago. Give her time.” He looked over to see you lining up your shot as you leaned over the table, smiling as he saw a glimpse of the old you… someone so bright and vibrant, the life of every room you walked into, drawing people to you like moths to a flame. But it was extinguished just as soon as it appeared as you sank your ball and looked up to realize it wasn’t your usual opponent on the other side of the table.

“Cyclone and I talked about grounding her, she’s a risk to herself right now.”

“Do that and you might as well put the final nail in the coffin, Mav.” Penny said, sliding a glass down the bar and shaking her head as the two men looked at her horrified. “I’m serious. There were two things in this world that got Birdy out of bed: flying and Jake Seresin. She already lost one, don’t take away the other. Just give her time, things will turn around.”

But the thing was… they didn’t. Weeks turned into months and everyone watched as you became just a shell of the girl you once were, moments where your laughter would have rang out above everyone else’s were silent and bets amongst teammates were all but ignored. You were as good as you always were in the air, not wanting to give anyone any room to take something else away from you, though you were a little more ruthless. The first deployment had everyone on edge as you put yourself into danger within the first few minutes of the mission, pulling out unnecessary maneuvers that should have ended with you and your aircraft in a million little pieces, and you didn’t even get the reprimand everyone had been hoping for when you arrived back to base because it was that behavior that made the mission a success and you went without the reality check they desperately thought you needed. Nobody knew what to do, and even Penny had reached the point where she was starting to get a little concerned. At month seven there was a knock on your door in the late evening hours that quickened your pace and got your hopes up though logically you knew you would only be disappointed when you opened the door to reveal Rooster.

You wordlessly stepped aside to allow him in as you resumed your previous position on the couch. There was a glass of water in front of you and nothing playing on the TV and Rooster had to take a deep breath to calm his reaction to seeing you this way. He set a beer in front of you and flicked on ESPN to watch game highlights just as the two of you had done every night the last few months. Rooster was at a loss and was showing up in the only way he knew how to. His heart was completely broken seeing you this way, his best friend he once considered the strongest person he had ever met so thoroughly broken by Jake Seresin. It filled him with anger and made him sick to his stomach but he would never show you that. He would wait until you finished your beer, taking the empty bottle to the kitchen and turning off the TV and all of the lights, gently pulling you up and down the hall where the two of you would brush your teeth in your bathroom before he would help you into bed and take up his spot on the couch. Tonight was different though.

“Roo?” It was the first word you’d spoken since he arrived an hour ago and at first he thought he was imagining it as he pulled the covers over you but he knew he wasn’t once he saw you looking up expectantly at him.

“Yeah, Birdy?” 

“Can you uh… I’m sorry, nevermind.” You shook your head as you went to settle in but he placed a hand over yours, eager to do whatever it was you were about to ask of him. You hadn’t asked him or anyone else for anything since Jake had left and he was ready to chip away at this crack you had revealed to him.

“Come on, what is it?” he asked gently and when you looked back to him he could see the fine mist coating your eyes and sending pangs through his heart.

“Can you stay? I haven’t- I can’t sleep and I just… I really want to sleep.” Your voice broke on the last word and before his brain could fully catch up he was kicking off his jeans and sliding into the other side of the bed, careful to keep enough distance to not spook you but that was thrown to the wind when you reached for him. He was quick to pull you into his side and hold you as close as he could. You had dodged everyone's attempts at physical contact with you and he silently wondered when the last time you had this kind of comfort was. The realization it was likely the last night Jake was in this bed with you had him squeezing tighter. You wrapped an arm around him and nuzzled into his chest when he heard it, the sniffles you were trying to conceal.

“Birdy, please talk to me,” he whispered as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “come on, you can’t keep bottling this up.” 

“That last night was perfect.” you said, and he stayed silent, deciding to let you get it out at your own pace and in your own time. “We spent the night with you guys at the bar, we came home and made terrible microwave nachos, and then we stumbled to bed and had sex, honestly really bad drunk giggly sex but that’s what made it good, and then we stayed up talking about nothing in particular. He told me he loved me and we fell asleep and then just like that he was gone. I mean, how do you go from that to vanishing into thin air?” You had never told anyone this, what happened that night when you two left had been a silent question of the entire group but no one wanted to ask you. Because you were right, the night had been perfect. Everyone had an amazing time at the bar and when you yelled out that you wanted nachos Jake was quick to sweep you off your feet and get you home so you could have them. Watching you leave they all thought to themselves they wanted something like that, they wanted the kind of love that flowed so generously between the two of you. 

“I wish I could tell you, Birdy.” he sighed, rubbing reassuring circles into your waist as your fist balled up the fabric of his shirt. He felt your frame begin to shake as you finally let out what you had been holding in this whole time, sobs wracking your body and Rooster just held on tight, whispering reassurances in your ear and telling you to let it all go. 

“I just don’t know why I wasn’t enough to make him stay,” you whimpered and Rooster’s heart cracked wide open. He shifted, sitting up slightly and pulling you with him as cradled your face and wiped the tears that showed no signs of stopping.

“No. Birdy, you are enough. You are everything and if he didn’t see that it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with him. This is not your failure, it’s his.” 

You shook your head, “I just… I keep replaying all these moments, trying to pinpoint where it went wrong, when he made his decision and I can’t- I can’t find it. There are supposed to be warning signs, it just doesn’t make sense.” Another sob overtook you and Rooster pulled you back in, letting you drape your weight across him and wishing he could do more. He adjusted the both of you back into a lying position and enveloped you in his arms, and when your sobs quieted and your breathing evened out he carefully snagged his phone from the nightstand and texted Maverick, telling him he finally got through and the two of you wouldn’t be on base tomorrow, he wanted to make sure you had plenty of time to catch up on sleep. 

Things did finally start getting better. Rooster took a mile with the inch you gave him and you spent your nights wrapped up under covers with him as you finally let him in and the days held glimpses of your old self. Smiles became more genuine, you weren’t as reckless in the air, and you even laughed at Fanboy’s dumb jokes once in a while. It wasn’t perfect, not by a longshot. Rooster held you tight each and every night so you could finally get the first peaceful sleep you’ve had in months, gently shaking you awake when a nightmare rattled your frame but night by night it got better. He eventually returned to his place on the couch, and then one day something changed and you didn’t need him in the house at all. Everyone knew you were still healing, still recovering but you had turned the corner. 

And when Jake suddenly reappeared at the Hard Deck just as suddenly as he had left you took it in stride. Everyone subtly watched as your two figures sat on the beach just beyond the window and waited for you to break, but that moment never came. When you returned and took Rooster’s beer from his hand they thought you would be angry, maybe at least cry, but you didn’t. You went right back to heckling Pheonix at the pool table as if it had never happened, but Rooster knew. When he drove you back to your place he sensed the silent turmoil waging a war on your mind, and walking into the foyer of your home you didn’t even need to ask. He followed you down the hall, where the pair of you settled into bed and you crawled into the arms that had grown to feel like a second home to you. 

“He said he was sorry,” you finally said, breaking the silence. 

“Do you believe him?”

You shrugged against him, “I don’t know. He said he still loves me.”

“Did he say why he left?”

“I didn’t ask.” You nuzzled your face further into his chest, eyes growing heavy as he rubbed your back.

“I’m really proud of you, Birdy.” You looked up at this, giving him a soft smile as he looked down at you.

“I don’t know if I’ve told you this or not, but thank you.”

“What for?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“For this. For being here, for giving up several months of your life to constantly be here.”

“Nowhere else I’d be, Birdy.” You laid your head back down and absentmindedly rubbed your thumb along his chest.

“I promise you one day you won’t have to sleep at my place.”

“I mean it, Birdy, there’s nowhere else for me to be until you don’t need me here.”

“You’re my best friend, you know that?” 

“I’d sure hope so,” he chuckled and you laughed with him. “What are you going to do?”

“There’s not much I can do. He’s restationed with us so… I guess figure out how to coexist. I just… I don’t get it. He leaves, I don’t hear from him for a year, then he just shows up saying he’s back and that he still loves me.”

You felt him shake his head above you, “I don’t get it either, and don’t hurt me for saying this but I think you should talk to him.”

“Seriously? What happened to all that ‘him leaving is explanation enough and you don’t need him’ shit you’ve been telling me?”

“Seriously. I know you, Birdy, you can’t be around him without getting to the bottom of it. If you don’t ask him why he left, all the progress you’ve made the last few months is going to go out the window.” 

You sighed, “I know.”

“Plus, I’m fully invested right now, I also need to know.” he teased and you playfully swatted his chest.

“Go to sleep before I push you off this bed, Bradshaw.” you laughed. 

“Goodnight, Birdy.”