#there were so many nice anons to sort through

[navybrat817]

Eye of the Beholder

Pairing: Bodyguard!Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Summary: Steve is your beautiful bodyguard and he thinks you're beautiful, too.

Word Count: Over 1.7k

Warnings: Bodyguard trope, fluff, tension, Steve Rogers (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: More Beach Fun Nonsense! Hope you lovelies enjoy. Anon requested for Bodyguard!Steve (who still does art) to dig his Toes in the Sand (fluff) with prompt #45 in bold. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You shuffled through your closet with an audible sigh. You had to make an appearance at a party tonight and still didn't know what to wear. It was ridiculous since you had a wide range of dresses and outfits to choose from, but your heart wasn't in it. Maybe because you didn't want to attend. You’d rather curl up and watch a movie as you fell asleep, but it was part of your job to socialize and look pretty.

You weren't going to complain when many out there had it worse.

“Why don't you get some rest instead of going through your closet? Again?”

You turned and stared at your bodyguard who sat across the room. With his short blonde hair and blue eyes, Steve Rogers was stunning enough to be a model. With his intimidating stature though, he made the right call by becoming a personal protection specialist. Easy on the eyes and built like a brick house, today he wore a tight blue shirt that showed off his broad shoulders and chest. He looked like the type of man who could toss you around if you asked nicely.

But seeing the sketchpad in his lap, you wondered if your paths ever would've crossed had he focused on an art career instead.

“You know you don't have to be here until tonight, right?” You asked, ignoring his suggestion as you shut the door. “Or do you like spending your time off watching over me?”

It wasn't your idea to hire a bodyguard, but you understood your agent’s insistence for you to have one. There were overzealous fans and creeps out there who wanted you. Ones who would stop at nothing to have you. All because you were a model. And while you weren't aware of any recent threats or danger, you needed someone like Steve to watch out for you.

Better safe than sorry.

But Steve himself? He was a pleasant surprise. You expected a stoic but polite man since he called you “ma’am” with the most serious expression upon meeting you. The more time spent with him, you realized passion lurked beneath the surface. Beyond that, he was authentic. In a world surrounded by plastic smiles, fake talk, and people ready to knock you from the pedestal you never asked to be set on to begin with, he was a much needed breath of fresh air.

“Technically my next day off is two days from now, ma’am,” he gently corrected you. You could listen to him talk all day. “But day off or not, I don't mind spending any extra time with you.”

“Oh,” you said, your cheeks hot. You spent days around gorgeous people who didn't make you bat an eye or stutter, but any sort of compliment or kind word from this man always got to you. “Hey, haven't I told you not to call me ma’am?”

“You have. On more than one occasion over the last couple of months.” A smile touched his kissable lips. “I guess it slipped my mind.”

You leveled him with a cool gaze. “So, your eidetic memory is limited to visual aspects and not auditory memories?’ You asked.

His face lit up when he smiled. “You remembered that I have an eidetic memory?”

You pointed a finger at him. “Keep calling me ma’am and you’ll be out of a job,” you said, deflecting from his question.

He chuckled, not at all afraid of your threat. “You won't fire me,” he said.

It was true. Steve had lasted longer than you expected because you liked him. More than that, you trusted him. He was the kind of man who would lay down his life for you and also keep your secrets safe. Not that you had many, but you wouldn't hesitate to tell him anything.

Anything except how your thoughts about Steve were sometimes unprofessional.

“I guess I won't, but don't think I won't make you carry my clutch around if you keep that up,” you teased, taking a seat on the edge of your bed. Steve has been in your room countless times and it always felt a bit warmer with him there. “On that note, I’m sorry you have to go to the party tonight.”

At least you didn't have to bring a fake date. Lord, you couldn't stand PR stunts like that. You didn't judge those in the industry who did it since you understood why. It just wasn't for you.

Would Steve have been jealous if you did? Or would he have insisted that you go alone for your safety?

“Don't apologize. Where you go, I go,” he assured you, your heart swelling. You reminded yourself that it was his job to do that and nothing more. “Just give me the signal when you want to leave.”

Steve didn't just keep an eye on you for protection, but looked out for your well-being. He made sure you got rest when you were tired, food when you were hungry, and privacy when the crowd became too much. Your past boyfriends never paid attention or cared that much. Why was a bodyguard so concerned?

“Do you ever get tired of this?” You asked, leaning back on your hands as you regarded him. “Keeping an eye on me? Going where I'm going?”

He stopped sketching to look at you, his eyes sparkling with affection that you liked to imagine he reserved for only a select few. “I say with complete sincerity that not only am I not tired of being your bodyguard, but you’re the best client I’ve ever had the privilege of protecting.”

You were certain stars shone in your eyes. “You flatter me, Steve.”

“I only speak the truth.”

You covered your mouth when you yawned. “Flattery. Truth. You’re still good to me and I appreciate it.”

Steve sat up straight and put his pencil down, concern etched in his face. “You’re tired. I think you should take a quick nap while you can.”

The man had a bossy tendency at times, but it was for your own good. You waved him off anyway. You could sleep later tonight. It wasn't that big of a deal. “What are you drawing?” You asked.

“Take a nap,” he said again, his voice low.

You couldn't help but shiver. That kind of tone almost made you blurt out “yes, sir”, but you refrained. “You're drawing ‘take a nap’?” You asked instead, doing an inner cheer when his lips twitched in a smile. “Show me what it is and I’ll get some sleep. Just for you.”

“Just for me?” He asked.

“I think if anyone could get me to do anything without too much of a fight, it's you, Steve,” you said sincerely

He ran a hand through his hair and shyly ducked his head. “I can't say no to those eyes.” He brought his chair closer so you didn't have to get up. “But no insulting my work, okay? My ego can’t take it today.”

“Since your ego can't take it today, I’ll save the insults for tomorrow,” you giggled, but it stopped the moment he showed you the page.

It was a drawing of you.

You almost touched the page before you stopped yourself, not wanting to smudge it. The details were immaculate, down to your facial features and how you held yourself. You couldn’t say it was like looking in a mirror because you had never seen yourself look so beautiful, but it was still a reflection of you and something deeper.

He captured an essence that no camera ever had. One you didn't know you possessed. It was a tender and sensual story told through his eyes. Was this really how you looked to him?

“Steve, this is…” You lost your breath as you looked in his eyes. Where he had been shy a moment ago, he held his head high. Proudly. He should be proud of his talent. “It’s beautiful.”

“You're beautiful,” he whispered, his gaze a combination of soft and heated. A combination that made you lick your lips and set your heart ablaze. “It’s, uh, also not the first drawing I’ve done of you,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair again.

You saw color in his cheeks as you smiled at him. “You think I'm beautiful?” Plenty of people told you that, but you liked it more coming from him. It was an earnest sort of declaration without demanding anything from you in return. “And you have more drawings of me?”

Part of you hoped he drew you in intimate positions since you selfishly wanted him to desire you.

“You're the most beautiful person I've ever known.” Steve placed a large hand on your cheek and you didn't hesitate to lean in, your heart racing faster. Could he see your pulse racing in your neck? “And I do have more. Maybe if you're good, I’ll show them to you.”

Please.

You thought he was going to close the gap and kiss you, but a knock at the door made him pull away and reach for the gun in his holster. It was both sexy and disappointing to see him slip into his bodyguard mode. That was why he was there though. To protect you. Your safety came first.

“Steve?” An unfamiliar voice called from the other side of the door.

Steve’s shoulders relaxed, but he shook his head. “New guy. Doesn't know the knock yet. I’ll be right back,” he muttered, surprising you by brushing his lips against your forehead. “Lay down, please. I need you to get some rest for both of us.”

You watched him walk to the door and waited until he grabbed the handle to answer. “Maybe you can join me. Sir.”

The muscles in his back tightened, his gaze dark as he glanced back at you. “Be good,” he growled, leaving the room quickly. It was a sound you hadn't heard before.

Giggling, you flopped back on your bed. Steve drew you. He thought you were beautiful. He desired you. At least, you hoped so. Now the question was, how long would you stay at the party tonight before you picked up where you left off?

And would you behave?

I hope I did this justice. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[fatuismooches]

cor monstri.

synopsis: Having been awake from your centuries-long coma for quite a while, you’ve become accustomed to many of Dottore’s segments and their unique personalities, along with their love for you. However, there seems to be a segment that’s rather elusive, and you’re going to get to the bottom of it.

includes: dottore (zeta segment) w/ gn! reader

notes: This is a commissioned work! I strongly recommend reading this, this, and this, in order to get a better grasp on this particular segment, Zeta (a sincere thank you to these anons!) Fragile reader tries their best in order to make a particular gloomy segment smile, the man who feels the failure of being unable to cure them for so long.

Il Dottore was a man of many faces, quite literally.

When you were a student with him at the Akademiya, he always wore one - that perpetually annoyed look that kept everyone else away from him, a perfect fit for him as he didn’t want to be bothered. Though you did see his softer sides eventually, it was nothing compared to what you dealt with now. Ever since you woke up from your coma, you were literally looking at his numerous faces all the time.

From 01’s familiar grumpy face to 02’s wide grins, 04’s severe lack of a smile as well as 18’s relaxed nature, and the exuding confidence from 24. There was also your favorite one, the glowing and giddy face of 10 when the child clung to you. Not to mention, all the other segments of Dottore that were around you. It was a lot to see and get used to… but you grew to love them all dearly, so you eventually gave them names. Real names, instead of numbers.

However, there was one segment that was sort of an outlier. It was strange to single him out, considering how eccentric all of the segments were, but with his odd behavior, it didn’t take long for him to catch your eye. 06, now called Zeta, was his name, and you found yourself struggling to understand him, partially because you barely ever saw him. That was probably one of the strangest things - being asleep for four hundred years made it so that all the other segments longed for your company and touch, stealing you away and hogging your attention whenever they had the chance. 

But Zeta, he wasn’t one of the bunch. He didn’t initiate anything but instead watched from afar. You would catch him watching you give a kiss or hug to another segment, before looking away swiftly. You would find him staring at you whenever you laughed or smiled widely, seemingly taking in your expression, before retreating somewhere else. You were confused. Did he not like you or something? Was there a period in Dottore’s life where he didn’t like you anymore?! Alright, you knew that was a dumb question, but still. Zeta never completely ignored you or drove you away, but you wondered why he seemed to be so gloomy and distant around everyone.

Zeta also had a face that was obviously familiar yet unfamiliar to you at the same time. Zeta had that fluffy blue hair you adored, and it was slightly longer than Beta’s hair, but not as long or stylized in the way of the older segments. Sometimes you’d notice it would be unkempt for days, and you’d try to brush it for him, although he initially protested and tried to leave quietly. Still, you made him sit as you weaved the hair brush and your fingers through his locks, which you greatly enjoyed but you weren’t sure if Zeta did as much. 

The other segments usually spoke to you, even if it was just small talk when they were busy. But again, Zeta was an odd one. He was always quiet around you. Regardless, whenever you did something sweet for him, no matter how small, he would show some form of gratitude. That was another odd feature of his, the other segments weren’t nearly as openly kind. Of course, they could say those nice words when it was something big, but Zeta seemed to make it a point. Was he really grateful for such tiny acts? You weren’t sure.

Zeta had those gorgeous red eyes that you loved to peer into, but his eyes seemed different from the other segments, and Prime Dottore himself. The others donned a familiar glint that you loved to see, proof of their ambitions and goals and research regardless of what others thought. Zeta’s eyes, however, seemed rather empty and dull to you. Still beautiful of course, but still. And while Delta had a permanently stern expression, Zeta was also quite serious, but he just seemed… somber, in a way. He never smiled. You wondered why. You think he’d look even prettier with a smile, just like how your other lovers do.

Asking your beloved, Prime Dottore himself, didn’t give you much answers. You should have expected that, but it was still disappointing.

“Dottore, all the segments are from past stages of your life, right?”

“Indeed.”

“Like how Alpha is from when you were a student and Omega is you from not too long ago…”

“That is correct.”

“So what stage of life is Zeta from?” Your question makes your lover pause for a mere moment, before moving his pen again like nothing happened.

“It was when you were still in your coma,” was his simple response, much to your dismay.

“Okay…? Almost all of your segments are from when I was sleeping! I mean, is there anything… specific that happened during that time? Anything particular?” You pressed, hoping to see why Zeta would be so drastically different from his other segments.

“No, I simply attended to you and my Fatui duties as usual.” You had to stop yourself from groaning at the obvious lie. There had to be something that had happened to make Zeta so stony-faced and subdued, compared to Prime’s outward and self-assured nature. And despite the complications your illness brought, your determination remained and that only meant one thing.

You were going to understand and love Zeta, no matter how much work it took.

—

Even though you knew where Zeta’s office and room were, whenever you went to find him, he was nowhere to be seen. You don’t know how he manages to be so slippery, but luckily you have a plan. Because no one can be more persistent than you when it comes to pursuing Dottore! You knew that periodically each of the segments reported to Prime whatever they were researching, and that even included Zeta, who seemed to never have much to do with him or have any agents under his command either. (Did he work completely alone? You knew all the segments liked to work by themselves, but they still had agents that worked under them for menial tasks. Zeta didn’t seem to speak to anyone else though.) Regardless, you were just going to lurk near your lover’s office and wait until Zeta finally popped up.

Thankfully, your experiment was a success.

When Zeta exited Prime’s office, you were right there, patiently waiting for him. His normal monotone expression was mildly surprised, probably not expecting you to be right there. Before the segment could speak, you leaned closer, your eyes staring directly into his, which had a permanent darkness underneath.

“Zeta! Hi! Hello! How are you?” Your words came out a bit awkward because of how long you’ve waited for this moment, but you didn’t think it was much of a problem. A few moments passed, as he took in your form, the one that was alive and breathing right in front of him instead of the one that never responded to him. You tried to ignore his intense stare before you got flustered. Just what could he be thinking about? You felt you understood Dottore and all the others well, but Zeta… well, he was a mystery that you’d crack. Hopefully.

“... I am fine. And you?” He had already begun walking but had trouble doing so as you were practically circling him excitedly. The sight made his chest oddly warm, but his usual expression remained, giving away nothing to his true feelings.

“I’m good too! Besides all the other stuff of course,” you didn’t see how his face tightened at the indirect mention of your illness, “But anyway, I have a problem. A very serious problem that only you can help me with,” you declared.

“And that is?” Zeta watched as your cheerful demeanor turned more serious.

“You’re the only segment I’ve barely spent any time with. That makes me quite sad. I want to get to know you some more, Zeta,” you said simply, having no interest in beating around the bush. “I know we haven’t spoken a lot but… I would like to change that. I mean, I know you probably don’t like to speak to people but…” You fiddled with your sleeve a bit nervously now, “But I would still like to try. I like you a lot, you know?” Zeta looked at you as you spoke, noticing every small detail that crossed your face, your eyes that blinked shyly as you bit your lip. Every movement of yours was mesmerizing for the man who once constantly stared at your unmoving face.

“So… what do you say, Zeta?” Ah, that’s right. You were waiting for an answer, now bearing a hopeful look. He should decline, the segment thinks. He’s satisfied with watching you go about your day.

“If that’s truly what you want, then I suppose nothing I say will be able to deter you,” the opposite comes out of his mouth, a feeling that’s buried deep within him, one that can’t help but come out when you’re near. Before he can speak again, to say that being with him probably won’t be the experience you’re looking for, you joyfully celebrate by wrapping your arms around the segment. You fight the urge to kiss him on the cheek.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise it won’t be boring!” Your warmth envelopes Zeta’s body, an unfamiliar sensation that has him frozen. So this is the sweetness that Prime and the other segments indulge in every day? And yet in his mind and body, your coldness from long ago still permeates him. From when you weren’t even able to respond to his words. Before you can notice something is wrong, he tentatively places his hand on your back, making sure his fingers do not twitch from how starved he is for you.

And then your days with Zeta officially began.

—

Rather quickly into your attempt to understand Zeta, the most important thing for you was to get to know him. Talk with him. Figure him out. You found that this task was difficult yet simple at the same thing. Zeta answered your question concisely as you expected him to, but… that was it. He was to the point and nothing else, not the conversationalist like his other segments. It left you with a lot of gaps to fill. Especially since you had no exact idea of what era of Dottore’s life he was from.

But still, you enjoyed your time with Zeta.

You learned that his area of research was medicine, creating and modifying new types for the Fatui’s use. But more importantly, he helped to create medicine for you. You didn’t expect that - you thought only Prime would do such a thing, but Zeta was incredibly skilled. You learned that he did indeed work with no one else at all, having “no interest in dealing with them,” according to the segment. 

You also learned that he was immensely attentive toward you, especially when your illness seemed to affect you the most. His eyes followed you when you thought he wasn’t paying attention, examining your body language and expression. If you were dizzy, he’d force you to sit down. If you looked to be more tired than usual, he’d make you go to sleep. The most you had heard him speak so fluently without stopping was when you had the “audacity” to still visit him while you were running a slight fever. 

Well, perhaps you should have expected that considering the others would react in a similar way, but you felt as though he was especially serious about it. While the other segments could entertain your excuses to an extent, he wouldn’t. It made you wonder if his stronger feelings had someone to do with his personality. You felt bad for worrying him… perhaps you should try to cheer him up. Actually, making him smile too. Yes, that would do nicely. But how? You weren’t sure if the tricks (more like a bombardment of affection) would work on Zeta. Still, there was no harm in trying.

I. plan a - attack with affection!

“Zeta~ whatcha doing?” You had come up from behind him as he sat in his chair, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. Zeta instantly takes note of your warm breath on his neck, the rise and fall of your chest, but ignores his longing for more.

“Reviewing the effects of the medicine on the others,” he replied, neglecting to mention who exactly was being tested on. You sighed, enjoying the fluff of his hair, but slightly disappointed at how he didn’t seem to be fazed whenever you touched him.

“Don’t you think you should take a little break? You’re always working,” you advised as you kissed the stoic man on the cheek. Pretty much all of the segments were constantly working or engrossed with their research, but many found some time to slack off with you, even for a few minutes. Well, it was more like you forced them to do so, but that was beside the point.

“I do not have time to spare with such things,” is Zeta’s immediate answer. All this annoying Fatui work he has to do takes up so much of his time when he should be focusing on helping to cure you. It’s extremely irritating for the segment, but of course, you don’t know that. You whine a bit, nipping his cheek to get him to reconsider, but the consistent somber look remains. 

“At least let me keep you company,” you said. Before he could protest or accept, you had already pulled his chair out to make yourself comfortable on his lap. This technique always worked, tested multiple times by you. You had to fluster him at least a little bit! His deep red eyes bore into yours before he sighed.

“If that is what you would like,” he said as he continued to work on analyzing the records in front of him. You were content with lying against him, head braced against his shoulders. At some point, you noticed his hand now rested on your thigh and then moved up your body, which you delighted in.

“You are very warm,” Zeta finally commented after a while of silence.

“Me? Warm?” You were a bit surprised because you were used to being told that you were pretty cold, mostly due to your illness, but Zeta didn’t seem to think so, considering how his arm was snaked around you firmly.

“Yes. Quite warm.” At least compared to all those centuries ago, Zeta thought. You looked at him curiously.

“Do you like it?”

“I do. It helps with focusing.” You almost giggled at that. Here you were trying to distract him, but he said you were helping him focus.

“Then let me warm you up some more,” you whispered, hands slithering up to his shoulders as you pressed your lips against his neck, leaving long kisses down to his collarbone. You then kissed his cheek, trying to gauge his reaction. Still, he wasn’t even blushing, as composed as always… well, a lot of the other segments were like this too, but you hoped you’d be able to see a similar expression as when you teased Alpha.

“Come on Zeta, don’t I deserve some kisses too?” You teased, as your lips got dangerously close to his, nearly brushing each other. You felt him stiffen up at how close you were, his eyes struggling to stay focused on his papers.

“Is it ever possible for you to show restraint?” You smiled at the snarkiness - even though Zeta was more a lot subdued than the others, you still could be a victim of his sarcasm.

“Of course I can. Just not when it comes to you. You’re just too cute,” you said before locking your lips with his, finally indulging in such pleasure. At first, Zeta’s lack of response made you worry that he didn’t want it, but soon enough he kissed you back. It was gentle at first, a bit unnoticeable, but after a few moments, he kissed back harder, catching you off guard. You pulled away, trying to regain your breath, but he then kissed you again, not letting you escape from his grasp. The kiss was greedy, and the way his fingers dug into your arms was as if he felt you would slip away if he didn’t hold onto you hard enough. Of course, you welcomed the feeling along with your beating heart, although you were speechless by the end of it, only staring at the segment with your mouth slightly ajar. Zeta had an amused glint, a refreshing look from his normally empty gaze.

“Why so surprised? Is this not what you asked for?”

“I- Well, yes, it was. And I am not disappointed,” you quickly replied, hoping to seem not too bothered by that sudden assault. Looks like he flustered you instead of you flustering him… but you know what? It was still a win!

“You know what this means, Zeta?” You looked at you silently, beckoning you to continue.

“Mission accomplished! I got you to take a little break, didn’t I?” You giggled at the success of your little plan, while Zeta’s eyes softened a tiny bit, the bags under his eyes looking a little less dark.

“... I guess you did.”

Plan A resulted in a semi-success and failure, but you think you’re a step closer to seeing a smile on Zeta’s face.

II. plan b - gift him something nice!

Gifts were always a good way to make someone smile. How could one not smile, after seeing someone else go out of their way to get something that was thoughtful? No one, that’s right, well, except for Dottore. Some of his segments, to be more specific. You remember quite well when you used to gift Dottore things in the Akademiya, he would always be suspicious of your ulterior motives. Thankfully, he’s changed now, because it would be difficult to have your partner of four hundred years wary of your intentions.

However, you were unaware of what kind of gifts Zeta would like. All the segments had their own preferences that you took into consideration, but you had only gotten to know Zeta recently, so you weren’t sure what he’d like yet. Should you cook for him? You could, but you had already given him a lot of tasty treats. You wanted to get something better for him. In the end, you simply decided to ask him.

“Zeta, what do you like?” You questioned, as you idly observed what he was writing. You think it was something about selling stuff to another Harbinger.

“What do I like?” He repeated. It was an odd question because he thought you’d know such things by now, but he still humored you. “Successful experiments, for one.” You giggled.

“I know that. I mean… if you had to receive something right now, what would it be? A gift, you could say. I could even make something for you!”

“A gift? That’s right, you used to be quite skilled with your hands,” Zeta reminisced about your past creations from when you were a student, more to himself rather than you from his expression, as he ran his longer fingers over the palm of your hands absentmindedly. A good pen that didn’t break would be nice, but he knew that was probably impossible.

“I do not require anything at this moment. There is no need to bother with it.” You hung your head in disappointment, which you should have expected, but you were unwilling to just give up like that.

For a while, you brainstormed. You thought for ages about what gift would be best for Zeta, and one day it hit you.

A picture frame.

Recently you had become knowledgeable about the “Kamera”, a device that took “pictures”, which were images that were captured permanently. It was fascinating to see yourself reflected back at you like that. Zeta liked to stare at you, his preferred method of communication to be honest. So would it not be a nice gift, a picture of you that he could look at whenever you weren’t around? And you could decorate the picture frame cutely! It was perfect! You were excited.

You didn’t bother asking another segment to take the picture for you, because you knew they’d get jealous if they found out what you were preparing for Zeta. You rather not have to think of over a dozen poses to do for each of them right now. You settled on a simple smile for the picture, placed some stickers along the frame that definitely didn’t match the vibe of Zeta’s office, and then put it there one day for him to come and see. You decided not to say anything, wanting to see his reaction.

As soon as he walked into his office, he immediately noticed you lying down, poorly pretending to be reading, and then his eyes wandered to the new addition on his desk. Zeta sighed at your determination, a trait he did admire about you even if you were annoying about it sometimes. Taking a seat, he then looked at the gift you had presented him with. The picture of you glowed back at him, a pretty smile that belonged on your face. It reminded him of the smiles you had back in the Akademiya. There were also the heart stickers that you plastered along the frame, that was simply so you. [Name].

“It is good. You seem adept with a Kamera, which is not surprising.” Your heart stuttered at the praise.

“It is fun to use. We should take some pictures together! I need to add them to my scrapbook.”

Zeta only hummed in response, his mood unusually better than usual, and glanced at the photo for a few more seconds. He then moved it to a better position and returned to his work. You held back a smile.

Plan B was definitely a success!

III. plan c - make him laugh!

Something that always made you laugh was when Dottore or the segments laughed. You always found it captivating to see how different their laughs were. Segments like Alpha and Delta rarely laughed, and when they did, it was more like a scoff. Omega’s laugh, which was usually when he was amused, whether it was genuine or in a mocking way, always made your heart flutter. Beta’s laugh, where you joined in with his hee-hee-ho-hos. So naturally, you wondered how you would get Zeta to laugh. Yes, you knew that you hadn’t even gotten the segment to smile yet, but maybe getting him to laugh could be a step in that direction.

Should you pull out some of your favorite terrible and corny jokes? Well, that probably wouldn’t be very effective - those jokes only served to make you laugh at the segments’ disgusted and humorless expressions. Especially with a segment like Zeta, you think that for all of the loving looks he gave you, he might give you one that made you want to crawl into a hole.

Maybe he was ticklish? It was worth a try, actually - Zandy always ran away when you tried to tickle him, and when you tried to tickle Dottore back in the Akademiya, you think he nearly broke your arm. It didn’t work on the older segments, but maybe it would on Zeta!

On the day you put your plan into action, you were in the perfect position on his lap, examining the best spots on his body that could possibly be ticklish. His ears and neck, or perhaps you should just go for his sides instead. Your hands curled into his shirt automatically, fingers moving up to his side when Zeta spoke.

“I would prefer if you pulled these tricks on the others rather than me, especially when I’m working.” It took a few moments for you to process his words before you sat upright, trying to defend your innocence.

“Hey! I wasn’t going to do anything!” You said, pulling your hands away, but Zeta looked at you blankly.

“There are times when I cannot figure you out, and there are times when you are a very obvious person. This time is the latter.” You pouted at the half compliment, half insult as you snuggled into his shoulder in embarrassment, but Zeta spoke again.

“However, I recommend going for the neck if you are still insistent,” he said, and you immediately regained your energy as your hands gripped his shoulders, wandering dangerously close to his neck. “Though, I believe using your lips would be more effective,” Zeta added on, and you paused as you thought about what he was implying.

“... You’re just trying to get me to kiss you, aren’t you?”

“I am simply giving the answer you seek.”

“You know, you’re just lucky I like giving you kisses,” you mumbled, before giving in to his request. Well, that backfired, but this outcome wasn’t at all bad!

Still, it seems like Plan C resulted in a failure…

IV. plan d - try to discover the truth!

You’ve spent a while with Zeta by now, learning quite a bit about his likes and dislikes - how he didn’t have a preference for being kissed, satisfied with your soft lips being anywhere, how he hated being bothered by any other agents even if it was only occasionally. How his favorite places to kiss you were your wrists and chest, along with the hollow of your neck, exactly where your heartbeat was, and how he quickly became agitated if you showed even the slightest sign of discomfort from your illness.

You loved Zeta and all his little quirks.

But you still had little information as to why he was so dour all the time. It hurts your head sometimes, after listening to Beta’s exuberant rants or Omega’s effortless charisma or even Prime’s endless discussion of his latest research, to Zeta’s quietness that came with dull eyes staring at you. Sure, you had gotten him to open up a bit, but it was just too strange for you to let go of. Maybe you could just ask him, but you didn’t want to be rude… but if you wanted to make him smile, you wanted to know why he was so serious yet so down all the time…

The next best solution was to investigate his stuff. Yes, it wasn’t the nicest thing ever, but you needed answers. You had already glimpsed around Zeta’s office a bit, because you liked to help him wherever you could, and you didn’t see anything that could be a clue. So the next best place was his room. Granted, all the segments’ rooms were pretty bland and empty, but it was still worth a shot.

After you woke up from your coma, the segments started leaving their personal rooms unlocked, because you loved to wander into them and take naps on their beds. Even though they hardly visited their own rooms, it was a nice surprise to come back to the sight of you sleeping peacefully, definitely falling asleep to the scent of their shirt. And it wasn’t like anyone else could find the location of their quarters. Therefore, it wasn’t hard to slip into Zeta’s room.

Of course, his room was practically a copy of all the other rooms. Regardless, your eyes swept through the room, landing on the desk with drawers (because for some reason, they still could work in their own rooms.) That would be a good place to look. Taking a seat at the desk, you found nothing but boring reports, talking about some Patient E43 or X12 or whatever, nothing you were interested in. 

Pulling open the drawers, some more loose papers were scattered about, none catching your eye, until you came across a notebook stashed toward the back. It was oddly familiar to the one you remember reading from when you first woke up, that you found in Prime’s office. Curiously, you picked it up and began to skim through the writing, taking note of the date that was from around two hundred years ago.

“It has been centuries since I last heard [Name]’s voice. I must keep replaying their annoying laugh and nagging tone in my head before I forget how they sound in this deafening silence.”

“Pierro spoke to me today. He didn’t say anything outright, but I knew what he meant. My research has slowed, but can’t these other idiots can operate without me? I have important matters to attend to.”

The entries went on, and on, and on, all detailing numerous failures and unsuccessful attempts of Dottore’s. Then, you got to the ones where the date got closer to the current time, a couple of decades ago.

“Even though my hands brush their skin every day, I seem to still be unaccustomed to the coldness of their body.”

“Their pulse is always the same. A dreadful, slow, heartbeat, that is nearly nonexistent. I despise it. And yet no matter how many trials I run, it remains the same.”

You continued to flip through the notebook that detailed so much about what he did in your coma, unethical actions that bordered on desperation. Even if he didn’t directly say his feelings, you could feel them flowing through you. Suddenly, Zeta’s nature made complete sense. It was due to the overwhelming failure he felt, even guilt, you’d say. Even you thought it was an uncharacteristic thing for him to feel - you rarely ever saw Prime display guilt unless it was a serious argument. But it was the only explanation, from these entries at least. Your heart suddenly began to hurt. You caused Zeta all this pain, in a way…

“Are you finished?” The voice now made your heart spike with surprise as you slammed the notebook shut, scrambling up from your seat to see none other than the segment, looking at you with an expression that seemed to say he wasn’t really surprised.

Now, this was just the most classic, cliche thing that would happen in one of the romance novels that always made you mad, but now that it was happening to you, you felt immense embarrassment.

“I- um, well,” you sputtered, trying to find an explanation, but there was none. “I’m sorry, Zeta. I’m sorry.” You avoided his gaze while he sighed.

“Go ahead. Ask what you’ve wanted to ask since the beginning.”

“Did you write this?” Your voice was quiet, the sadness layering over it thickly, as you put the notebook back where it was. No need for it anymore when you had Zeta in front of you.

“Yes and no. The more recent writing is from me. The earlier ones are from Prime himself, though I suppose you could consider it me as well since I am him from that stage of life,” he said as he began to walk toward you, until he was standing in front of you, taking note of your downcast look.

“Zeta… all of this, I don’t…” The vast emotion you felt from the writing made your head swing because you never thought Dottore could feel so… strongly, in that kind of way.

“Those fools from above tried to take you away from me… they tested me,” he breathed in your scent, finger tracing along your neck to feel your pulse. You tried to ignore how quickly you were heating up by the close proximity. “But they failed. Of course they did.” The malice in his voice then dissipated as he stepped away, gritting his teeth, and you already missed his warmth.

“But I…” You quickly interrupted him, grabbing his hand and squeezing it tightly.

“You did not fail me, Zeta. Don’t say that,” you murmured as you brought his hand closer to your face, nuzzling it to your cheek. “I’m alive and breathing in front of you, aren’t I? That’s proof enough of how hard you worked. You don’t need to worry anymore,” you tried to comfort him.

“It is not enough,” he snapped, leaving you silent, as he then realized he didn’t mean to direct that tone toward you, stroking your cheek as a quiet apology. “I should have been able to wake you up sooner. I should have been able to cure you by now. If I was successful, things wouldn’t be the way they are now.” 

Your heart couldn’t help but ache at the segment’s pain. You had no clue that he or Dottore himself felt this guilty when you were sleeping. The only thing you could do was hug Zeta, enveloping him in your arms. It was then you realized that even though you wished you could rid him of his sense of failure and guilt right now, you knew you couldn’t. It was a key characteristic of his at this phase… so you could only promise him something.

“Zeta… I can’t change the past or how you felt back then… but I can promise that my heart will never stop beating for you ever again. My arms will be here when you need them, I’ll talk to you so much you’ll miss the quiet, and I’ll make sure I keep you so warm you’ll overheat. I’ll never keep you waiting ever again,” you said gently but firmly, fingers curling into his shirt, hoping your words would reassure him a little bit. Zeta remained motionless for a few moments, and you worried that you said something wrong, but he then wrapped his arms around you too, holding you tightly.

“I will hold you to that, [Name],” he said, his voice still tinged with his regrets but also held something a bit softer.

“Of course.”

“There will be consequences if you go back on your word.”

“I know.”

“I mean it.”

“Yes, darling. You need not worry again.”

“Hmph…” Despite his gruff words, the way he held you said it all.

Plan D seemed like a failure on the surface, but you think you were pretty successful.

V. plan e - get a smile on that face!

It had been a little while since your numerous encounters with Zeta, and it was from then that you found out how clingy he could be. Nuzzling into your soft body, holding onto you when you said you were leaving, not wanting to relinquish you to the others. Now that you knew what he went through, you easily understood why though. However, you didn’t mention it at all unless you wanted to be ignored. 

And now that you had gotten him to speak a bit more, you were blessed with the usual Dottore you knew and loved - more quips and banter filled the room, instead of the once-normal silence. Still, he liked the quiet between you two better, preferring to observe everything about you and take note of every change you went through, no matter how tiny it was. In a way, it made you more embarrassed than when the other segments would fluster you with words.

More importantly, you were able to become a bit more skilled in convincing Zeta to take breaks. You didn’t want him to constantly work on either his Fatui duties or your medicine, even though he was made to do so. So now you had convinced him to take merely a ten-minute break on your bed after he had finished a nightly check-up. It was always interesting to see how his touch would be fluttering and unsure at first, and then become firmer as he continued to take your presence in. And right now, he was taking in how you were fiddling with his fingers and playing with them. A sure sign that you were thinking of something.

“Is something wrong?” The blue-haired man questioned, as he ran his hand through your messy hair. Zeta liked seeing you like this, even if you tried to shoo him away from how disheveled you looked. It was much more preferable than seeing your unsettlingly perfect appearance and unmoving body, even if you kicked him in your sleep sometimes. 

You sighed as you then turned on your side to face him, squinting your eyes at him carefully. Out of nowhere, you then moved your hands to the sides of his face, squeezing his cheeks in an effort to pull up his lips. Of course, it was over as quickly as it started as Zeta quickly removed your hands, scowling at you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He said, not appreciative of the sudden tugging of his face. You only pouted as he held your hands hostage.

“I’ve spent this much time with you, and I still have yet to see you smile…” You buried your face into the soft pillows to lessen your disappointment.

“A smile?” The segment scoffed. “Is that what you were after the whole time? How meaningless.”

“It’s not dumb! It’s very important to me,” you protested. “Please, can I get a smile? A grin? Even an annoying smirk would do!” You pleaded with Zeta, seeing as it was your last resort, considering all your other plans didn’t work. Unfortunately, it looked like it wasn’t going to work on him in the slightest.

“No.”

“With sprinkles and cherries on- mhph!”

“Go to sleep,” he interrupted you as he pressed a finger to your lips, silencing your plea, before getting off the bed, already returning to his work. Sadly, your arms weren’t long enough to drag him back in time.

“Zeta,” you whined, wanting to indulge in his embrace some more although the blankets were already quite warm. “Don’t go so quickly.”

“Your eyes are drooping. The medicine is kicking in, so go to sleep,” his dry response made you grumble, but you knew he was looking out for you in his own way.

“Fine… good night, Zeta. Love you.” The segment had no response other than switching off the lights, and letting you get your rest.

You fell asleep thinking that hopefully, Plan F would finally get him to smile, not aware of the small smile that graced his lips.

[b1rds3ye]

hi!! this is my first time doing a request so idk if I'm doing this right haha but uh, I was wondering if you could do like. yknow the masked one you made for the 141 (I can't remember the name rn💔)? I thought of like, a sequel idea. like, what if during combat an enemy manages to take reader's mask, and so reader panics and like, rips the enemies throat out with their teeth (or if that's too violent, just goes basically rabid on them lmao) and how they would react?? if this is too violent or specific dw you don't have to!! anyways, I love your content it's totally awesome ur writing is amazing! have a good day!!

YES I LOVE THE BADASSERY AND THE UNHINGEDNESS!! If I'm your first request I'm so flattered anon pls do feel free to drop by again <333 Also just going to do general rabidness because ngl the throat thing sounds like an infection speedrun and we want our masked reader to stay nice and healthy <333

Word Count: 1.2 (it got a little long WHOOPS)

Warning: Canon typical violence, reader does get a lil sadistic and unhinged <333

Beyond Task Force 141 and Laswell, many - if not all - allied soldiers wondered about what lay under your mask. Obscuring even the eyes, your visage was more unreadable than Ghost's. Larger than life, a soldier among men.

There was a running joke that there was just nothing under your mask, perhaps an eldritch horror of sorts. You let the new recruits entertain the thought, it kept morale up as they conjured more myths of you. They said that no one has seen you without your mask. They were partially right.

It simply was that no one lived to tell the tale.

You were never one for close combat, but fighting terrorists was never smooth sailing. The chaos of battle had all of the 141 separated against the tight streets of Las Almas. How uncanny that you could not see your allies but hear their gunfire. Running out of ammo, you couldn't lament at your misfortune as a shoulder pummeling into your chest, sending you to the ground and the air out of your lungs. Head bashing against the floor you groaned as you furiously clawed up to whatever heavy weight was crushing your body. You were starting to make up the figure of a man hovering over you through the blurry haze of a concussion that filled your sight. The distant static of Price's voice through the radio, probably asking where the hell were you but you had more pressing issues at hand.

Through your struggle and flailing limbs you managed to wring the enemy's pistol off of them with a painful twist of their wrist. And they retaliated tenfold, a large sweaty hand reaching down and pressing your head back against the ground. Your adrenaline makes you writhe further, he was going to suffocate you, or worse, poison you with how fucking awful his hand smelt as the stink of burning gunpowder replaced any of your oxygen. But no, he committed a far worse crime.

A singular pull and the grating tear of fabric as your mask is pulled off of your face.

A heavy moment where your enemy looks down at you and his gaze is not like before. It's clear, it's deep. It is not looking at your facade but at you and you are no longer a soldier. You are merely a human, so fragile, so weak. One that is on the verge of death in a foreign land surrounded by bodies of fallen comrades and enemies alike. One whose mythos is all but lost at the victorious and leering smirk of an enemy as they take in your face.

That simply won't do.

Pulling your knee up to create space between you and the man, you pull out your tactical knife from your waist and drive it into his torso. His smile falls only to land at settle on yours below him, just like his blood that trickles as forbidden crimson down your hands and seeps into your uniform. It's disgustingly warm. He grows heavier as he loses all control over his body and you heave to throw his figure off to the side. You stab him once again for good measure. And then again. And again. Quick, short jabs down with a sharpened blade that cuts through uniform, flesh and bone alike. You did not count how many times you drove your blade down, numbers were too complex when your mind was running faster than any comprehensible speed. There was only one goal. To make sure no one knows what happened.

A harsh grip on the shoulder yanks you back up and you swipe with your armed limb to cut your new assailant's neck but they were onto you. Catching your arm, they pull it up as they hold onto your shoulder once again with a tightening grip that digs into your uniform. But they do nothing more, no matter how much you thrash and kick.

"Wake up, Sergeant," your opponent seethes and that voice makes you still, a buoy that floats across through your rage. Deep and grounding and your captain's.

You nearly stumble back but Price catches you before you crumple to the ground in exhaustion. The adrenaline was escaping your body leaving you with barely the energy to stay upright. Your head lolls back for a second before you bring it to the side to look at your direct superior, the remnants of a concussion making your vision blurry.

"You broken?" he asks.

"Negative, sir,” you respond immediately but he looks a little doubtful, a singular eyebrow raised as he inspects you. Not your body, but your face. The dilated pupils and the taut muscles told more than any wound.

"Can't say the same about your wee friend over there," Soap whistles as he tilts his head to behind you. “Christ, you did a number on him.”

You dare turn to look over your shoulder but Ghost already situated himself in front of the body. But between his feet you could already make out the indistinguishable mass of tattered fabric and discoloured flesh. Fresh blood filled the rivets between the cobblestones, the remnants of the body inching its way closer to you-

"Was it the mask?" Simon brings your attention back to him. You nod dumbly. He only dips his head in what you can only describe as understanding as he folds his arms, fortifying his stance in front of the mess you made. You weren’t going to see your handiwork, he was too kind to ever let you.

John drops his hands down to his sides as Gaz approaches you with your mask.

"Remind me to never get on your bad side," Kyle offers you a sympathetic smile.

"Learnt that the first day I saw 'em on duty," Johnny retorts and you instinctively smile as you take your mask from Kyle. The hardened plaster of your mask had cracked, the fabric that hugged your neck had become torn but it'll do for the remainder of the mission. Slipping the mask back on, Simon offers a nod of approval while Johnny tugged at the fabric for a few finishing touches.

Ultimately the mission was successful. The task force returns to base and although none of the boys mentioned the carnage you left, there are still whispers of it on base. You had hurried to debrief and get your mask fixed but it seemed some privates caught sight of you and that was enough to spark rumours. Your mask had gotten so fractured that a shard was left back in the streets of Las Almas and revealed one of your eyes to the rest of the world. Such a small organ but so vivid. The privates saw, and more was added to the myth that was you. There was now no question about what was under the mask. No lovecraftian horror or empty space, no monster beyond comprehension. No, what was under your mask was terrifyingly human.

Masked Reader Masterlist Call of Duty Masterlist

[megalony]

You Need To Choose

This is an Evan Buckley imagine, requested by anon. I love writing tropes like this so thank you for sending it in and I hope you will all like it. Feedback always makes my day.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii  @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz

Buck Masterlist

Summary: Evan saves a woman who then becomes very attached to him. While he is at work, she visits his home and takes his pregnant wife hostage.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh God, why was she back again?

Her smile did something to unnerve Evan, although he wasn't altogether sure why. It was the way she looked at him, like there was some kind of aura around him that nobody else had. It unsettled him, it made him panicked and uneasy and unsure about how to act or what to do.

Evan could feel his hands suddenly start to drag up and down his thighs in an anxious habit that reminded him of (Y/n). He didn't realise how many of her anxious traits he had too until he noticed the way (Y/n) would fidget or cling to him when she was nervous or ready to go home if they were out somewhere.

"Hi Buck,"

He fought hard to smile and try to be polite. It wouldn't be kind if he stared at her blankly or let his unease become visible.

"Hi… are you okay? Can I help you with something?"

Evan tucked his hands into his pockets as he stood in front of her but kept a safe distance of three feet between them.

This marked the third time Cara had come by the station and the second time, Evan had been lucky enough to be out on a call. She was only stopping by to talk to him, she didn't want to see any of the team. She asked for him the first time she popped round and she came to say thank you.

It had been very sweet, not many people willingly came by the station to thank any of the team when they helped people out of bad situations. They said thank you on the scene but never followed up and it was nice for Evan to see Cara was doing well. He often wondered about the people they saved, if they were okay, if they were happy or struggling. If they remembered the people who came to help them.

The second time, Evan had been uneasy when Chimney told him Cara came by again but left when she was told Evan was out.

Now she was back again, and Evan couldn't see why. She had thanked him the first time and he told her it was his job, he didn't do this for praise although it was lovely of her to stop and say thank you.

She had been trapped in a crumbling building when the team turned up at the scene and Cara had been seconds away from crashing through a window and falling to her death when Eddie and Evan got there. Evan went down on a rope and managed to grab her before she fell. He could see how it would shake her up and make her grateful, but he couldn't see why she would come back again and again to thank him when she didn't have to.

"I'm a lot better now, thank you. I thought I'd stop by and give you these."

Evan had been preoccupied wondering why she was here and missed the tuppaware box she had in her hands. When he leaned forward, he realised she had made some sort of cake.

The team got a lot of food, mainly chocolates or baked goods to say thank you and that was usually around Christmas or Easter.

Evan wasn't used to getting gifts from the people they saved, a polite thank you and a hug was always more than enough for him. He got enough gifts from the team and his family on special occasions. The last gift he got was (Y/n)'s gift on his birthday telling him he was going to be a dad. That had given him a whole new high he never felt before.

"Thank you," He tried his best to smile and took the box when she suddenly thrust it into his hands. "You didn't have to do that."

"It's the least I could do for my hero."

He could feel his smile fading away when she reached up and wrapped an arm around his neck to pull him into a hug.

He usually gave small hugs on the scene after saving someone, not weeks later when they came by to say thank you. He wasn't sure what to do. It wouldn't do him good to stand like an uncomfortable statue but he also didn't want to hug her as if they were good friends or give her the wrong impression. Evan was big on hugs and physical contact but only with close friends and family.

He was always messing about with Bobby and Eddie but they were more like family. Evan didn't do so well with strangers.

"Okay… take care." His smile was definitely more forced this time and looked more like a grimace when Cara finally let him go when she seemed to realise he wasn't hugging her back.

It wouldn't be professional to hug her back. He hadn't done anything to warrant a hug, he saved her almost three weeks ago and she said thank you on the scene. She wasn't a friend, she wasn't family or someone Evan knew well enough to have physical contact with. And he was married. He didn't want nor need to be hugging her.

As soon as she left the station, Evan turned around and let his shoulders deflate. He sighed and gritted his teeth as he looked over towards Hen who was checking the inventory in the ambulance.

"What'd you get?"

"Cake, I think." He hoped.

"Taking it home for (Y/n)?" She poked her tongue out between her teeth and grinned widely but the grin started to slip when Evan shook his head and frowned like she'd just insulted him. "You get given cake- something your extremely pregnant wife loves, and you're not taking it home for her?"

"Not when I don't know who's made it." Evan brought the tuppaware box up to his eyes and squinted through the plastic. "I don't know what's in it, I'm not risking giving that to (Y/n). Do you want it?"

He could see the wheels turning in Hen's mind and she hummed, pursing her lips as she suddenly agreed with him.

It was a lovely gesture, but Evan didn't know Cara. He didn't know if she would lace the cake like one woman had done with the brownies she sent in. Evan didn't know if she would drug the cake or add some strange ingredient. It was too risky to take home to (Y/n) when Evan got a bad vibe from Cara as it was. He wasn't giving her food baked by a stranger.

(Y/n) was nine months pregnant, Evan wouldn't risk giving her something that might make her sick. He'd rather play it safe and buy her cake on the way home from shift.

"Erm, maybe not."

Evan nodded her way before he walked towards the stairs and on his way past, he tossed the box in the bin. It was a kind gesture, but he wasn't eating it and Bobby had rules. No food or drink to be accepted from strangers. It didn't matter how kind they were or what lovely intentions they had, no one should accept food. Only close friends and family could bake goods and bring them into the station.

And something told Evan not to try that cake.

***

"What are you doing?"

A gasp burned past (Y/n)'s lips and her left hand clutched the curtain rail while she flapped her right hand out. She grabbed Evan's shoulder to steady herself when she suddenly felt his hands tightly digging into her hips and his chest press up against her hips and bum.

"Evan don't do that!" She bashed her hand against his chest before she moved back to clutching his shoulder when she wobbled.

Her lips pressed into a thin line and she scowled down at her husband while he pressed his chin against her hip and stared up at her with that stern expression that made her weak at the knees. She slowly let go of the curtain rail and shuffled around on the stool until she was fully facing Evan.

Her hands held his shoulders as she hunched over in a silent plea for him to help her down.

"The curtain came down again, I was putting it back up." She mumbled when Evan locked his arms in place and kept her stood high up above him. She watched him tilt his head forward and press his lips against her bump while his hands curved round from her hips to hold the back of her waist.

He let her lean her weight down onto him and slowly eased her down until she was safely back on her feet. (Y/n)'s hands stayed on Evan's shoulders and she tilte dher head back to look up at him.

"And you thought giving me a heart attack was worth it?" His eyes darted between (Y/n) and the curtain until she leaned forward and buried her face in his chest.

He peered into the nursery and saw her standing on a stool, leaning heavily on the window. And from his angle, it looked like she was unsteady and about to fall. Evan didn't need that kind of panic when he was already on edge as it was. He had one more week of work and (Y/n) was bang on nine months now. Her due date was next week and Evan was panicking that she was going to go into labour while he was at work.

He didn't need to walk round the house and see her daring to stand on a stool like that and risk a fall.

"I've done it now, I was fine until you scared me."

"Well next time just tell me rather than risking a fall." Evan was taller, he could reach the curtain rail without straining or going on his tiptoes. (Y/n) didn't have to do it by herself when she could just tell him and he would sort it.

Her hands tightened on his shoulders and she tilted her head back so her chin was tucked into the middle of his chest. The way she batted her lashes at him made Evan's chest tighten and she knew she had won him over when his stern look faded into a soft smile.

"How do you feel today?" He let his hand slide down to cradle her stomach and his head tilted to the side. They both knew what he was actually asking.

(Y/n) looked down and let her fingers glide down Evan's arm until she cupped his wrist.

"Just kicking, they're not coming today. You can relax, baby Buckley is staying put for today." Her thumb smoothed across the back of Evan's hand which she moved to the lower right side of her stomach so he could feel a small kick.

She wasn't feeling any strange movements or feeling the baby turning round yet. No more lower back pain than usual and no dull aches or cramps anywhere that would imply labour. They still had a few more days or even a week left. Evan could go to work calm, knowing he wasn't going to miss anything today.

"Good. You're not allowed to go into labour without me."

"I know, but I'm not holding out much longer. The baby might not be ready, but I am."

"Just three more shifts, baby girl. Wait three more shifts, for me, please?" Evan lifted his hand to cup her chin and tilted her head back while he smoothed his thumb across her lower lip that he pinched to watch her take a sharp breath.

He knew (Y/n) was getting restless. He hadn't known her take so many baths as she had in the last three months, but it was where she felt most comfortable and where the baby seemed to settle and sleep. (Y/n) was tired. She thought she would of had the baby by now, she thought she wouldn't make it to her due date. But the baby seemed very comfy and cosy and (Y/n) was getting fed up of waiting.

Evan, on the other hand, was somehow containing his excitement. He had agreed with Bobby to work right up until (Y/n)'s due date because it gave him an extra two weeks off after the baby was born. Rather than taking time off in the lead up to the birth. He would rather work until (Y/n) had the baby and then he could have a few straight weeks off to be home and help her with the baby.

He had barely taken any annual leave this year so he had a lot stored up that he could take when the baby was born in case (Y/n) or the baby were ill or needed him. Or in case he had a hard time going back to work, he had a feeling he wouldn't be able to settle back at work and leave his family at home.

"Sweet-talker," (Y/n) muttered quietly before she pushed up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips.

He enticed a gasp from her lips when he sank his teeth into her bottom lip so he could swipe his tongue past her lips. (Y/n) could feel his hand tightening in the back of her shirt and he tugged her closer until she was tightly meshed against his front.

"You'll be late."

"Hm," He grinned and panted against her lips as his nose brushed against hers until she shook her head when it started to tickle. "You call me if you need me, even if you just feel sick. I've always got my phone on me now and if you can't get hold of me, call Bobby."

"I promise." Her lips attached to the side of his neck and she curled her arms around his shoulders to pull him down to her. Her face buried into his shoulder and she could feel his chest vibrating with a chuckle.

(Y/n) seemed to be promising Evan every shift that she would call him if she needed anything. She never did. Maddie was always popping round to check in and make sure she was alright when she knew Evan was at work and so far (Y/n) had been fine. But she knew Evan had cleared it with Bobby for (Y/n) to be able to get hold of him because if she needed him, he had to be able to answer.

Her hands trailed to his shoulders and she leaned back when Evan bent forward and pressed his lips against her stomach. His hand slipped beneath her shirt to dance across her skin because he knew it made her shimmy and squirm.

"Be good. Don't make an appearance until daddy comes home."

When Evan felt a kick near his lips, he grinned. (Y/n) tangled her fingers through his curls and steadily stroked them towards the back of his head while she rolled her eyes.

"They're definitely going to be a daddy's child."

***

"Hello?" (Y/n) tightened her hand around the door handle and tried to form a calm smile when she opened the door.

She wasn't expecting visitors today, she wasn't even sure that Maddie would stop by today or if she was at work. (Y/n) had been expecting to spend another calm day at home and tuck herself up in bed until Evan came home later on tonight.

(Y/n) didn't recognise the woman on the other side of the door. She had shoulder-length gritty blonde hair that was slightly damp from the hot weather and it made her hair curl and crimp at the ends. She had one hand curled around her bag on her shoulder and the other was planted firmly on her hip.

Whoever she was, she didn't seem happy to see (Y/n) opening the door. Had she gotten the wrong address? Was she looking for a friend or family?

"Who are you?" Her demanding question took (Y/n) by surprise and the smile faded from her lips as she clung a bit tighter to the door. It should be (Y/n) saying that, not whoever this woman was.

"I-"

"Where's Buck, is he home?"

The way she leaned to try and peer around (Y/n) into the house made a shiver crawl down (Y/n)'s spine.

So whoever she was, she clearly had the right address. She was looking for Evan. (Y/n) dared not think why this woman was looking for him, she seemed rather put-out at seeing (Y/n) instead. And the way she was tapping her foot against the doorstep made (Y/n) uneasy, it was like (Y/n) was wasting her time.

"He's at work right now… can I help you? I'm his wife." It seemed to be the wrong thing to say.

(Y/n) rolled her lips together and braced her left hand out on the wall when the woman in front of her took a stumbling step backwards. It was as if (Y/n) had gone and slapped her.

Who was she? How did she know Evan but not know that he was married? He wore a silver band on his ring finger for God's sake, that was a big giveaway. His lockscreen was a picture of them when they were on holiday and his home screen was a more daring picture of (Y/n) that not many people saw or noticed.

Evan didn't hide the fact that he was married, he told just about anyone and he had been high as a kite these last few months at the notion of being a father. His friends were mainly the people he worked with and the few friends he knew from college. All of whom (Y/n) had met and gone out with on quite a few occasions.

Their circle of friends was close-knit, small and secure. And this woman was not a part of that circle.

"His- no, he's not married." Cara's hand tightened on her hip and she tried to smirk, but the look faded again when (Y/n) simply frowned.

"Excuse me?"

(Y/n) could feel her annoyance beginning to build up like a fire ebbing away at her and growing with each passing second. She was tired, she wanted to go to bed and lie down and dwindle away the hours until Evan came home. The last thing (Y/n) wanted was an argument on her own doorstep because some derranged woman had turned up out of the blue.

"Who are you?"

"I told you, I'm his wife. He isn't here, do you want me to call him?" (Y/n) wasn't playing this silly game. She didn't have to prove that she was married to Evan. It was up to this woman to explain what she wanted Evan for and either call him herself or leave.

(Y/n) leaned her weight on the wall when the baby started to move and press down on her hips.

But when she watched the way the stranger in front of her suddenly stared down at her stomach, (Y/n) felt like wishing the ground to swallow her whole. She could feel the daggers burning into her stomach and the woman's face turned a dark shade of red like the epitome of anger was right here in front of her.

The silence was unbearable, until (Y/n) strained hard to hear what this woman was suddenly muttering under her breath. Then, (Y/n) was suddenly desperate for the silence to come back.

"Pregnant? You're having his kid? You can't be. You can't be."

It was like those were the only words this woman could comprehend and it made (Y/n) shiver.

Was this the lady who kept turning up at the station? Evan mentioned a woman kept stopping by even after she thanked him and the team for saving her. (Y/n) didn't think anything of it because Evan didn't seem to elaborate or make much of a fuss.

"I think you need to leave now."

"I'm not going anywhere!"

(Y/n) shuddered and quickly backed up when the woman smashed her hand out into the door and slammed it so violently it hit the wall and rebounded into (Y/n)'s arm. She felt a bolt of electricity shooting down her elbow towards her hand that spasmed in pain but she swallowed down a cry.

There was no time for (Y/n) to try and slam the door shut, let alone think about locking the door to keep herself and her baby safe.

Before she could move, the woman was over the threshold and pushing her way into the house.

(Y/n) tried to bash her hands out but she recoiled her hands to her chest with a gasp when something sharp caught the side of her wrist and burned down her arm.

She had a knife. A swiss army knife, to be exact.

It was a red rectangular plastic with a lot of various sized blades tucked away and even a thin set of scissors attached. (Y/n) didn't see her take that out of her bag, she moved far too quickly and it was very unsettling to know this woman carried one around with her in her bag.

"Where is he?!"

"I- I told you, he's at work- please stop. Why do you want to see him?" (Y/n) tried to swipe away the small trickle of blood from her wrist but she lashed her left hand out again when the woman moved the knife near her stomach. She wasn't going to harm the baby. (Y/n) wouldn't let her.

"I want him! He's mine- he saved me. We've been out on dates, bet you didn't know that."

It took all (Y/n) had not to roll her eyes or make a sarcastic sound. As if she would truly believe Evan could be the way he was around her and then go behind her back with someone else. He wouldn't be this clingy and attached to (Y/n) if he really was going out with someone else and he wouldn't be so excited about having their baby if he wanted to leave (Y/n).

She knew her husband and she knew he was as devoted to her as she was to him. Everyone at the station was always telling her that. Clearly this woman had either been reading the signals wrong, or she had been living in a fantasy that had just broken.

"He isn't here-"

"So call him and get him here!"

When the knife moved closer to her stomach, (Y/n) backed up into the lounge and nodded. Her hands started to tremble as she turned and looked around for her phone. This woman had to be derranged. She clearly didn't have Evan's number or she would have called him herself and unless Evan had a secret phone he wasn't telling (Y/n) about, he couldn't be having an affair.

No one nowadays had affairs where they only talked in person or through the post. This woman didn't have Evan's number, she had no way of contacting him and it was clear she had never been to the house before. Her fantasy was unravelling because she was realising Evan had a life and a family that she wasn't part of.

(Y/n) slowly pointed to her phone and picked it up just as she felt the knife press against the side of her abdomen. She couldn't make any sudden movements unless she wanted to risk harming the baby.

"H-he might not be able to answer, if he's out on a call…" (Y/n)'s fingers trembled as she unlocked her phone.

Her lips pressed together in a thin line when she looked at her home screen. Evan, lying in bed with one hand tangled in his hair and a cheesy grin on his face as he squinted up at the camera.

Her thumb hovered over Evan's icon at the bottom of her phone where two hearts surrounded 'hubby'.

"Either he answers, or he truly doesn't love you. He wouldn't leave you alone ready to pop without a way for you to contact him, would he?"

It didn't feel safe to tell this woman that they had protocols and plans in place for that kind of event. If Evan couldn't answer the phone, (Y/n) was supposed to ring Bobby. If he didn't answer, she had the fire station emergency line where someone at the station would answer and they could radio through to Evan. He would get (Y/n)'s message either way, but right now, she needed her husband to answer the phone.

God knows what this woman would do if he didn't pick up.

"What do I tell him?" She couldn't risk getting a knife to the stomach if she said the wrong thing or said something this lady didn't want her to say. (Y/n) needed to know what to do.

"Tell him to come home. Tell him Cara's here and she needs to see him, if he doesn't… I think you know what will happen."

(Y/n) let herself slump down on the sofa as she clicked Evan's icon and pressed the phone against her ear. Her free hand tangled in her hair before she moved to press the back of her hand against her mouth to stop herself from crying. But she couldn't fight off the few tears that silently slipped down the bridge of her nose.

The baby was twisting. Her stomach was flooding with adrenaline. Her body was shaking from the panic. She felt like she was going to be sick. (Y/n) wanted her husband more than ever.

"Sweetheart, everything okay? Is it time, is the baby coming?" Words rambled past Evan's lips and he couldn't see the relief on (Y/n)'s face when he started to speak. He knew she wouldn't ring him unless it was urgent or an emergency.

"Evan, can you come home please?"

"Baby are you okay?" He could hear the wobble in her voice and it made his heart clench. He would come home, she knew he would, but Evan had to know what the situation was and why he was coming home. He had to know if (Y/n) was in labour or if she had fallen or was feeling sick or felt like something was wrong. He needed the specifics.

"Cara's here, a-and she wants to talk to you… it's important, please come home."

"Cara? What's she doing at the house- how does she know where we live?" Evan tangled his fingers in the short curls at the back of his head as he spun round in a circle.

How did she know where he lived? Why had she turned up at his house and not the station?

Oh God, had she been following him to know where he lived?

"Baby are you hurt, please tell me she hasn't hurt you?"

(Y/n) darted her eyes to the left and glanced over at Cara to see if she could hear Evan through the phone or not. She looked a little calmer now but the fire was still burning in her eyes. She was sat on the arm of the sofa next to (Y/n), the army knife still dangerously close to (Y/n)'s stomach just to show her she still meant business.

When she looked up, she noticed Cara had seen her eyes darting down to the knife and something sinister flickered across her face.

"You can tell him I have a knife with me. And I will use it if he doesn't take us seriously."

"Did- she's got a fucking knife?!" Evan's feet moved before he could comprehend what he was doing or where he was going. He needed help. He needed someone to come down to his house with him. He was sure he heard Cara say she would use her knife. He couldn't have her threatening or hurting (Y/n). Especially not when she was so close to giving birth.

"Evan-" (Y/n) shuddered and took a sharp breath when the phone was suddenly snatched from her hand.

"Buck, it's me. Are you on your way?"

"What are you doing at my house? Don't you dare hurt my wife! I swear to God I'll-"

"Enough talk. You need to come home now, so you can choose who you really want to be with. You need to choose the right woman for you."

(Y/n) flinched when she heard Evan begin to yell before the call ended and Cara tossed the phone on the floor. At least Evan would be coming home soon. (Y/n) wouldn't have to be on her own with this unhinged woman for much longer.

For a little while, (Y/n) began rubbing her hands up and down her thighs and across her knees as something to distract herself. She was desperate to run her hands over her stomach and try to settle the baby but she didn't dare draw attention to her stomach. Not when the knife was still held so close to her that she could almost feel it.

Part of her prayed that Evan would bring someone from the station with him, maybe Bobby or perhaps he could get hold of Athena. But she wasn't sure what Cara would do if he turned up with anyone else and if he called the police, everything would get worse.

Both women turned to look at each other when they heard the screeching of tyres in the drive.

It had to be Evan.

"Up. Now."

A shiver rocketed through (Y/n) but she did as requested, she didn't exactly have a choice.

Her lips pressed into a thin line and her hands coiled around her chest when the knife jabbed into the left side of her waist. She could feel the jagged edge beginning to pull the threads on her shirt and if Cara pushed just a little, she would pierce through into (Y/n)'s skin.

Cara's other hand moved to grip the back of (Y/n)'s right arm and she pushed her to stand near the window just as Evan banged his knuckles on the door.

"Baby it's me." The door was open but Evan felt apprehensive about going inside. He didn't know what he was going to be walking into, he had no idea if (Y/n) was okay, if she was going to be in shock or crying or hurt or oddly calm. He didn't know what state Cara would be in either.

"You'd better be alone. No one else comes in or I'll hurt her." Cara tightened her hand on (Y/n)'s arm and kept the knife in place to stop (Y/n) from moving when they both watched Evan walk through the hall.

He had his hands out in front of him to show he wasn't about to do anything. He had Bobby waiting outside in the car, but Evan wasn't stupid enough to tell Cara that. And Bobby was on the phone to Athena who was going to send a squad car down here without lights or sirens so Cara didn't get disgruntled.

"It's just me." Evan walked around the corner and paused near the sofa.

(Y/n) saw the way his eyes darkened and his broad shoulders tensed and lifted up when he looked at them. He lowered his hands down to his sides and clenched his hands into fists while his biceps started to push against his cuffed sleeves.

A quiet 'good' murmured past Cara's lips and she smiled triumphantly while her eyes focused on Evan. He stood behind the sofa and leaned his hands down on the back of the sofa. It showed how tense his arms were and they both heard his neck crack when he twisted his head from side to side.

"Are you okay?" Evan focused his eyes on his wife. She had a cut on her right wrist but it didn't look too extensive. He could see her trembling and tears were traced down her features, but she didn't look too shook up which is all he could ask for right now.

"She's fine."

(Y/n) bit her lip but she nodded, she didn't want Evan to worry, she was as fine as she could be in this situation.

"I'd feel a lot better if you weren't holding a knife to her stomach. Can you put it down, please?" It felt horrid to try and be reasonable and bargain with Cara but Evan needed her to stop holding (Y/n) like that. She was going to hurt her or send her into shock and Evan didn't want either of those things happening.

"No. Sit down, we need to talk."

Evan locked his jaw when Cara gave (Y/n) a sudden push towards the armchair beneath the window. He watched with narrowed eyes as (Y/n) slumped down into the chair and dug her nails into the arm rest while her other hand moved to press against her stomach.

When Cara perched down on the arm rest and kept the knife against (Y/n)'s stomach, Evan moved round and sat on the very edge of the sofa. His knees spread out to the sides and his hands clasped together and hung between his knees.

"You didn't tell me about her." The way Cara inclined her head towards (Y/n) and her upper lip curled in distaste made Evan take a deep breath. "You led me on. I've been to visit you at work, I've been out with you, and no mention of her."

For a second, Evan frowned and looked up at Cara like she had grown a second head.

But then it dawned on him. He'd seen her when he was out at the shop last week. He'd seen her again when he went for a drink with Chimney and Eddie after shift. He even saw her at the gas station walking past while he was filling the jeep. Nothing about those instances had seemed strange because Cara barely spoke to him on each occasion.

Had she thought seeing him out in public meant they were going out together? Did she somehow concoct a whole story with Evan without him realising? Had she been following him instead of simply bumping into him in the street?

"I'm sorry, but you can see why I didn't tell you… I was married before I met you." Evan didn't exactly know what to say, but he knew he had to try and go along with this for a little while. He had to calm Cara down enough to get (Y/n) out the house, then he could sort out this mess. He just needed his family out the way and safe.

"Well now you have a problem. You can't have both of us, so you have to choose."

The knife pressed closer into (Y/n)'s stomach and she flinched. She shuffled as close to the right as she could until she was curled around the arm of the chair with her arms around her chest and her eyes locked on Evan.

"Will you let (Y/n) leave then, so you and me can talk in private?"

He could see she wasn't expecting that response, and Cara didn't know what to do. Evan was trying to get (Y/n) out safely, he wanted her out the house and out of harms way and Cara might be able to see that. But she also couldn't pass up the chance that Evan might just want to pick her and talk this through with her.

"What about the baby? If you leave her, will you leave the baby too?" When Cara jabbed the knife into (Y/n)'s side to prove her point, (Y/n) visibly winced and bit down her cry.

"We can talk about that when (Y/n) leaves us alone," Evan was losing his patience now, he couldn't play pretend for much longer.

Cara seemed to debate it for a few seconds before she nodded but her actions contradicted her gesture when she moved the knife and against (Y/n)'s neck. She seemed to revel in the way (Y/n) whimpered and leaned back and more tears drenched her face.

"Go upstairs. You're not leaving the house to call any of your little friends."

(Y/n) could feel the knife pressing tightly into her neck until it pierced the skin and a small trickle of blood trailed down the side of her neck, but she couldn't move. Her hands stayed locked around the arm of the chair and she closed her eyes for a few seconds. She didn't feel well enough to move. Everything within (Y/n) was telling her to move, to get up and go and keep the baby safe.

She knew Evan could look after himself, he could get the knife off Cara and calm her down until they could get the police here. But she couldn't find the will power to move when her stomach was twisting and she felt sick.

"Sweetheart," Evan chomped down on his tongue when Cara sent him a warning look. "(Y/n), go."

"Are you stupid? Move, he's told you he doesn't want you here anymore."

Tears tumbled down (Y/n)'s face and she stumbled up to her feet when Cara gave her a rough shove between the shoulders and she felt the knife slide down her neck, creating a superficial wound.

(Y/n) could feel her knees quaking but she couldn't stop the small cry from errupting past her lips when she looked down. Both her hands cradled her stomach and she darted her wild, panicked eyes to look over at Evan. She watched the way her husband tensed up and his eyes bulged in their sockets.

Her waters had broken.

"Evan…" She didn't know what she wanted to say or what she wanted her husband to do, but (Y/n) needed Evan to do something.

She cringed and pinned her elbows into her waist when Cara snagged a handful of her hair and pulled her head right back until her neck felt like it had broken.

"You've done this on purpose! This is to make sure he won't leave you- you bitch!"

"Let her go- Cara that's enough!" Evan raised his voice out of instinct and bolted up from the sofa when he saw the knife move near (Y/n)'s stomach. He couldn't let her do anything to his wife. She was frightened and in pain and now she was going to go into labour at the worst possible time. Evan had to keep them both safe and away from Cara.

(Y/n) reached her hands out for Evan when he stumbled towards her. She let out a scream when the knife swiped near her stomach just as she tried to lunge forward and pull out of Cara's tight grip on her hair.

Her hands curled around Evan's arm and she let him yank her forwards until he had her safely behind him. Evan hated the way he felt (Y/n) go down on her knees behind him and he felt her hands scratch down his back and his leg but he couldn't grab her. He had to reach forward for Cara who tried to lunge with a violent scream that almost deafened him.

The knife slashed the inside of Evan's palm but the adrenaline countered out the slight sting he barely felt. He curled his fingers around the blade and pulled until he had hold of the weapon which he launched somewhere behind him. He heard it clatter against the bannister and was satisfied it was far enough away so Cara couldn't reach for it again just as he heard the front door swing open.

"Buck?!"

Evan had never been happier to hear Bobby's voice and the thudding sound of approaching footsteps told him that someone else was in the house too. Someone else was here to help. He latched his fingers around Cara's wrist and pushed until they both stumbled and a scream tore from her lips when they clashed into the armchair.

When hands grabbed his shoulders, Evan let go and allowed whoever it was to reel him backwards until he was towards the sofa.

He realised it was Bobby who had hold of him and Athena was now stood in front of him like a bodyguard, trying to move and calm Cara enough to arrest her.

"Buck, Buck, come on, up." Bobby slipped his hands beneath Evan's arms and pulled until Evan bent his knees and managed to stand up. He could feel Bobby turning him in the right direction and giving him a helpful nudge until he moved towards (Y/n).

She was cowering down on the floor behind the sofa, one hand braced on the arm of the sofa with her other hand cradling her stomach.

Tears flooded down her face and she could barely see when Evan held her chin and tilted her head up so they were level again. His thumb swiped across her lips and (Y/n) could see his eyes raking over her to see what injuries she had. Her wrist was aching but it had already stopped bleeding, it was more of a nuisance than anything. There was a slight pinch in the left side of her stomach and (Y/n) knew Evan could see the small trickle of blood soaking into her shirt.

The knife had given her another superficial cut on the side of her abdomen that was nothing to worry about. But the look in Evan's eyes said it all; he wasn't impressed, not in the least.

(Y/n) curled her hand tightly around Evan's wrist when his hand slid round to cradle the back of her neck. He leaned closer until (Y/n) could bury her face in his neck and his other arm curved around her waist to keep her tucked up against his chest.

"Alright, alright sweetheart I've got you. It's okay." He spoke quietly into the top of her head as he felt her tears soaking into his neck and it made him shiver.

"Are you both alright?" Bobby rested his hand on Evan's shoulder as he crouched down and tried to assess them. He knew Evan's hand was bleeding, he could see the blood pooling between his fingers and trickling steadily down his wrist. But he hadn't been inside when everything turned south, Bobby hadn't seen if they had been hurt before he and Athena barged in.

"Her water broke."

"Right, then we need to take a trip down to the hospital."

(Y/n) tried to keep her face tucked up into Evan's neck but he gently reeled her back so he could look down at her again. She could feel his thumb smoothing up and down the back of her neck beneath her hair and his other hand began rubbing circles into her lower back. The smile o his face was calming, but not as much as the way his blue eyes seemed to swirl like a light was being shone in his aqua blue iris.

"Let's go have a baby."

[letorip]

casual [iii]

"i hate that i let this drag on so long, now i hate myself, hate that i let this drag on so long, you can go to hell"

===+++===

pairing: natalie scatorccio x reader

summary: you're not just going to let her go, this time. after long enough, you arrive at the very obvious conclusion that you're in love, and there's very little else to be done about that

warnings: mentions of sex, cuss words, a bit of angst but i promise a happy ending :)

word count: 7.2k

A/N: all good things must come to an end. trust, i'll write for nat again. also i stayed in that airport so fucking long it was like purgatory, and i'm so sorry it took longer than i thought, i've had an exhausting past two weeks and just needed to stop and breathe for a minute

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THAT ONE ANON I FEEL BAD I'M LATE

===+++===

===+++===

"Please tell me you didn't do it on my sheets," Lottie groaned, lip curled in disgust and eyes hidden by her sunglasses.

"Sorry," you said back from behind your own pair, without looking away from the crystal blue of her pool water. You both were splayed out on her sun-bleached deck chairs, with matching hangovers (and bathrobes) that made the bright, beaming sunlight a whole new level of awful.

Her house was in disarray around you both, with crushed beer cans and overturned chairs all across the pool deck. Some cigarette butts floated in the water and you were certain the sprinklers in her garden were misting a pile of vomit and washing it down the front of her lawn, but neither of you made a move to get up and deal with it yet.

At the far end of the Matthews' pool, there was a statue of a mermaid that doubled as a fountain, spitting water in a gentle stream. Someone had put a snapback that said 'I <3 BOOBIES' on her and a bit of lipstick around the area that water shot out, and though usually you would have laughed, you instead were a bit annoyed by how it was taking you out of what would've been a nice scene.

There was just something about waking up and seeing Nat had gone without any sort of indication, that sparked the sudden urge within you to reconnect with nature. So you were reconnecting— more like brooding— on Lottie's pool deck in a peaceful silence.

After what felt like thirty minutes but was probably more like five, she turned to you. "Do you wanna—”

“—Talk about it?” you finished, raising your eyebrows. You shook your head. “No.”

She pouted. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to make pancakes.”

“Oh… then yes.”

You both lazily trudged into her equally wrecked kitchen, with even more cans and spilled liquids thrown over her marble counters. There was a burnt bag of popcorn sitting in the sink and the garbage can underneath it was overflowing with paper towels, but Lottie's kitchen was big enough where you could ignore it entirely, jumping up to sit on the clean countertop near her massive range cooker.

When Lottie said 'make pancakes,' she really meant she would be the one cooking and you would be there for moral support, if anything. You were gifted in many things but cooking or anything of the sort had never been one of them. Instead you leaned your head against the massive stone hood, and watched her from the pair of sunglasses you still wore.

Nat had laughed at you, when you said you didn't know how to cook. Not an omelette, not mac and cheese, and barely a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Of course, you assumed the last one wouldn't be hard to figure out, but you hadn't ever made one before, and it made her laugh into your chest, where her head had been resting. It hurt a bit now, but you had the sunglasses to shield your eyes while you stared off into space.

"Chocolate chips?" Lottie asked, running a hand through her dark hair and combing out a few knots with her fingers. You nodded, and she turned back to the pan in front of her, grabbing a fancy looking bag from a stack of supplies nearby. "My dad brought fresh chocolate back with him from when he was in the Caribbean a few weeks ago," she said to you, sprinkling it into the pan and flipping it over.

"Is he going to be pissed you're using it for pancakes?" you mumbled, feeling your headache return.

"No more pissed than he'll be when he sees that Jeff and his friends cut off the leg on one of his horse-shaped hedges." You winced, hopping down from the counter and feeling your back still scraped raw from, well, Nat. Lottie shot you a look. "That heated, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, heading towards the kitchen island and grabbing some of the beer cans to toss in the rubbish. "She's made her decision clear. I'm honestly done with it. I don't care anymore."

Lottie didn't say anything, turning back to the pancakes and sliding them on a plate as you slid into the barstool at the other end of her island and rested your head on your elbows. "I mean, she called me selfish, Lottie, and then said she loved me multiple times, minutes later. Who the hell does that?"

"Mhm," she hummed, sticking her spatula and the pan in the sink and then moving to the walk in pantry to grab syrup and powdered sugar.

You watched her go, calling after her. "She disappears for days after she gets mad about me talking to people, and then I see her immediately with Bobby Farleigh of all people, and they're cuddling up! I'm done with it all."

"Okay," Lottie said, reappearing with her arms full and tossing them down on the kitchen island. She clambered up into the seat next to you and stole some of the plain ones for herself, before covering them in syrup.

"And," you continued, remembering something else as you began cutting up the pancakes and smothering them in powdered sugar, "she egged my fucking house! How could I even forget about that? I mean, what was I thinking? I don't want to talk about her."

"Oh yeah," Lottie snorted. "You really don't want to talk about her."

You shot her a glare, stuffing your mouth with an angry fork. "I'm serious, Lottie."

"You wish," she scoffed. "If you were serious— and I'm not trying to be mean— but if you were serious, you wouldn't be ranting all about her. I know you keep saying it's impossible and it can't happen with her, but you sure as hell seem like you want it to happen with her."

You frowned, taking a forkful and stuffing it into your mouth. Right as you did, a couple sheepishly walked down the hall and towards the front door, clothes obviously messed up. They sent you an awkward wave and Lottie gave a quick nod in their direction, turning back to her plate. "Then why'd she leave?" you asked, when the door was shut behind them.

She shrugged. "Why the hell would I know? If anyone here would be the Natalie-whisperer, it would be you."

"Yeah well, apparently not," you huffed, shoving more pancakes into your mouth.

"I mean, it's not like you guys were on glowing terms before you... y'know. Wasn't gonna magically all be fixed, after." You groaned, leaning your forehead down onto the cool marble countertops. It actually felt nice, against your raging headache, but you still felt like crap.

"Would've at least been nice for her to wait until I woke up to go. No 'goodbye,' no 'we should talk,' nothing. When we were just hooking up and stuff, I at least always waited to say goodbye."

"So it's not just hooking up, anymore?"

"I don’t know what it is, Lottie. You tell me, because apparently everyone knows but me." She shrugged, finishing her plate and pushing it away from herself.

"I have an answer, but you're not gonna like it."

"...No, I'm not in love with her."

"You absolutely are."

"I'm done with this!"

"You keep saying that."

"'Cause I am."

"Okay."

"I'm done," you frowned, attempting finality in your tone and coming far short.

"Right," she snorted, and then she stood to grab your now-finished plate too. "Can you help me?”

It took around three hours, to get the Matthews house back to its usual formality. You sprayed burnt and disturbed bushes with the hose, threw out bag upon bag of party rubbish, and vacuumed cigarette butts off the carpet of her living room, silently working while Lottie played some records on her grandfather's old gramophone.

Her dad usually put jazz records on it or snooty classical music, whenever you were over, but Lottie had Dancing Queen blasting throughout her house and was hopping around as she snatched stuff off the mantle and shoved it into bags, turning to you and yelling a lyric from time to time, along to the music.

This wasn't your idea of fun by a long shot, but you could appreciate Lottie trying to make it fun.

"So, how much convincing did you have to do, to get Laura Lee here at a party? I mean, with the alcohol," you asked with a snort, grabbing an almost empty bag of crisps and tossing yourself down in her father's leather armchair to finish them off.

Lottie flushed. "A really embarrassing amount," she admitted. "I kind of glazed over that part."

"I'll bet she was surprised?" you asked with an amused crunch.

"It wasn't even that— this guy from my third period started going at it with this girl right in front her. I had to literally stop her from going over there to talk to them about waiting until marriage."

You shrugged. "I mean, she seems to like you a whole lot."

"She does," Lottie nodded. "She's so sweet to me, and she has the best hand to hold, like, ever."

"Honestly, I'm surprised, but happy for you. You're in a big ol' throuple with Jesus Christ."

"Ha ha," Lottie rolled her eyes, sticking her tongue out at you. "At least whatever we have is holy. I don't even want to think about you and—"

But whatever dig she would've said was cut off by her doorbell ringing. You sighed, letting your feet down from where you had propped them up on the side table and wiping the crumbs on your bathrobe.

"I'll get it," you grumbled, leaving Lottie to clean. When you opened the door there was absolutely no way you could've prepared to see her so soon.

Nat stood awkwardly in the entryway, looking just as surprised to see you as you were to see her. She wore a pair of blue shorts she practiced and slept in, and staring right back at you was the shirt you thought had gone missing weeks ago, barely hidden behind the ratty zip up hoodie she had over it.

Her eyeliner was still smudged from the night before in places, and you stared at her blankly, waiting for her to say something— anything, really.

"I forgot my damn lighter," she said, casting her eyes to the floor after a moment.

"Oh," you replied, feeling a bit stupid suddenly, in your bathrobe and sunglasses, with your flip flops for shoes. You looked like you were mid-spa day, or like someone's drunk uncle on a cruise. Then, before you could stop yourself, you felt an annoyance twinge in your gut, and said "Is that all you've got to say?"

Her eyes shot up, looking challengingly at you, in what was a clear frustration. "What do you want me to say?" But the answer went unsaid, even as much as you didn't like it. That you came back for me.

"I don't know..."

"Great," Nat scoffed. She looked over your shoulder into Lottie's house, as if her lighter would appear behind you and jump right into her hand, and she would just be able to leave. "Can I just have my—"

"—Why did you egg my house?" you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to block the door a bit more. She raised her eyebrows at you, confused.

"What?"

"You egged my house, after our argument," you repeated, slower, feeling the tips of your ears burning.

"No the hell I didn't."

"Yes the hell you did," you argued back, leaning forward with your hands on your hips. "You're the only one with the gate code. I get it, you were mad, but—"

"—Fucking Christ, I didn't!"

"You wrote a giant 'fuck you' on my house. No one else would."

Nat glared. "I didn't invent it. Is it such an impossible thing for you to consider that maybe not everyone is Team (Y/n)? I don't mean to break your brain, but for once somebody might actually dislike you."

You rolled your eyes. "You're the only one with a history of breaking rules and doing shit."

"So, what, you think I would do that to you?"

"Maybe you would. Maybe you don't care about me at all. That's why you ran off, wasn't it?"

She narrowed her eyes at you. "I had to go, before my dad caught me out."

You shook your head. "Bullshit. You've stayed out, before."

"Oh, so now you're mad that I'm not cuddling up to you?"

"That's not cuddling, that's having me stick my fingers in you and then you run off. You were pissed at me a few days before, Nat, for literally the same thing."

"It's almost like it's confusing, (Y/n), when you get mixed signals. And no, I got pissed at you because you went shopping for girlfriends— which, I'm assuming because you're being an oblivious, self-righteous asshole, you're still doing."

"Yep, still looking," you glared at her. She glared right back, just as steely.

"Great."

"Great," you replied. It was annoying, how good she looked when she was frustrated. She was great at looking mad, and even better at looking good when she was mad. The furrowing of her eyebrows, wrinkling of her nose in anger; she had the face you wanted to kiss away. It was impossible not to wonder, if doing so would uncurl her fists and smooth out the lines on her forehead.

Then you stopped. Holy shit. Everything seemed awful, like a massive case of vertigo had just washed over you. You had had hangovers before, but this somehow seemed infinitely worse. See, a thought had finally self-realised itself within your little peanut brain.

I'm in love with Nat.

It made the ceiling feel like the floor, and Nat sent you a concerned glance and seemed about to question your change in expression, when Lottie came from behind you.

"Hey, Nat," she said with an awkward smile, brushing past you with a look and then handing her the lighter quickly. "Excited for nationals?”

"Yeah," Nat nodded, but her eyes were still glaring at you. She cleared her throat, finally looking off. "Thanks, Lot. Great party."

"Mhm," Lottie nodded, trying her best to seem at ease and not at all like she was walking in on a code-red situation. "Have a great weekend! Bye now! Get home safe! See you!" She rushed, tugging you from beyond the doorway and giving a wave, before shutting the door.

The moment the door was closed, she gave you an unappreciative stare, but your eyes were wide and your cheeks flushed.

"What?" asked Lottie, her eyebrows furrowed with concern.

"I...I think I'm in love with her."

===+++===

Your home was just as empty as it was when you had left the night before. Reginald wasn't even due to come in, since your mother and father weren't home and it was a Saturday. Even the groundskeeper and maid had the day off, and the groan you let out at finally returning home and falling onto the warm rug on your living room floor echoed against the walls of your empty house.

In your hand was the letter you found in your mailbox. A cool black and Princeton-orange colour. You already knew what it said, without even looking into it. Your father and mother went there. His father and mother, too. For years and years and years. And now, if you followed the rules set out in front of you, you too.

It was impossible not to wonder, when the fog of privilege would slowly cloud your brain. Would it be the law degree from a private school, or legacy admissions? The more frightening thing was that maybe Nat was right: it had already set in, and you unaware. You at least felt different than the rest of them. That made you different, right? You and Lottie?

The image of Nat seemed ever-prevalent. Glowering at you, like she had been in the doorway. In your shirt. With that frown. The frown that you wanted to kiss away, but would never be able to. A Scatorccio, of all people. Of all people, you had to be in love with the one person you couldn't have.

It felt simultaneously like life had resolved into something more clear and understandable, and something more depressing and doomed. You wanted to forget the realisation, and the acceptance as well. Maybe it was truly better when you were promising your friends that you felt nothing of the sort.

Your eyes flitted from where they stared at the ceiling over to the giant brown bookcase in the corner, stacked high with thick volumes of what your dad had once said were family records, but you had never grabbed one off yourself. The one that stuck out against the brown leather-bound books was a more sleek, grey memoir with your grandfather’s name printed onto the hard cover casing.

That one you had read— your father had made you read it, when you were fourteen, and your parents gave up on trying for another kid. It wasn’t as dreadfully boring as you thought it would be, but it was still a memoir about a stuffy stockbroker from the 80s, with all the parts involving cocaine conveniently edited out, but not your grandfather’s insane escapades with women.

Your father was in the process of writing his own edition, and had thereby implied that he expected you to write one for yourself. You didn't know what you could possibly write about, but then again there was the expectation you write about it anyway. You weren't a guy on Wall Street, you weren't an international businessperson. You didn't even know what you were going to school for, yet.

Next to the bookshelf in equal intimidation was a painting of your family that your father had commissioned years ago. It was back when you still had braces and acne, but thankfully the artist had removed both. You hadn't been allowed to smile for it, though that's what child-you thought you did for pictures. Instead, you and your parents' mouths were drawn into disapproving lines and hardened expressions, and the golden plaque at the bottom wore your surname in proud, powerful letters.

You sighed, sitting up onto the palms of your hands and then standing slowly, still a bit uncoordinated. You sent the painting a final glance before you wandered to the phone, grabbing the thing and checking your watch while you did it. You slumped down into the seat at the end of your dining room table, where your father usually sat, and pulled the antenna from the top, punching in the numbers absentmindedly as you stared out the window onto the garden and the pool.

The number was for your father's Monaco residence, and you waited with a jumping knee and wry expression while it rang. Eventually, though, your mother picked up. "Hello?"

"Hello, mother."

(Y/n), darling, is something wrong? You know to call Reginald first, in case of emer—"

"—No, nothing is wrong, mother. Look, I actually wanted to ask you a question."

"Well, go on then. We're about to go out to dinner."

"...Mother, do you have Julie Roosevelt's number?"

Silence on the end of the line. "Absolutely!" You didn't need to be there with her to hear the smile in her voice. "What for?"

You swallowed. "I think I'll try to take her out tonight."

"Well! Darling, that's just wonderful!" You nodded into the receiver, not like she could see it. "Make sure to wear your nice shirt, we don't want to upset the Roosevelts! I hope you know, I'm proud of you for this, really." You almost mentioned getting accepted into Princeton. Almost. But you decided not to mention it. It wasn't like you wanted to think about it anyways.

From the far wall, you could see the painting of the woman with the blue eyes staring at you.

===+++===

The local mini golf was always busy, but Saturdays were absolutely the busiest. There were couples upon couples who had the exact same idea, and were wandering around with their hands together and beaming at one another like they were living in a rom-com in the real life.

And yet you stood there with your hand in Julie Roosevelt's, and a massive frown on your face. It wasn't one that you'd let Julie see— every time she glanced in your direction, you'd quickly replace it with your best smile, showing her your teeth— but it was one that you knew you wore when she turned away.

"Sorry about the late notice," you said. You dropped her hand and went to grab a putter from the front, handing it to her and then grabbing one for yourself.

"It's okay, I was wondering if you were ever going to talk to me again," Julie laughed, a bit awkward. You winced. It's not like you could be honest, and say that you didn't intend to. The truth was, that while Julie was a bit shallow, she was also a bit too nice to deserve this one-sided thing.

Of course, there was the hope that you grew the love your mother spoke of. Maybe it would hit you, and alleviate you from Nat, who seemed to haunt your thoughts even more now, that you were aware she had captured your heart.

"I was just busy, this past week," you shrugged. "It's kind of a big deal for the Yellowjackets, and both of the teams are practicing and stuff...so."

"Wow. I guess you really like the Yellowjackets then, huh?"

"Uh...something like that, yeah. It's a big deal." She hummed, then took her things out onto the first green.

You let her go, standing behind her and watching with a grin and the scorecard in your pocket. Mini golf was something you took pride in being good at. But, then, of course, Julie let the ball drop, took a second, and gently hit the ball around the bend with a near perfect curve, and right into the hole.

"Yay!" she cheered, jumping up and down in celebration.

"Wha—"

Julie put her hands on her hips with a teasing grin. "Captain of the golf team, remember?" You hadn't.

"Right..."

You played a terrible game, for the most part. You stood at the end of the second-to-last hole with the scorecard in your hand and a whole bunch of big numbers on your side of the table. Julie was beaming from ear to ear, though you weren't exactly sure why.

It had been pretty much silent, with the two of you failing over and over again to find an interesting thing to talk about. It wasn't the calm, pleasant silence like it was with... well, it didn't matter now. You filled in a four, two shots over the par, and made your way over to where Julie was crouching down, to get a better view of the final hole.

"Actually wait, there's a special way you have to play this one," you called out to her, and she turned to you with a puzzled expression.

"What do you mean?"

"It's kind of local tradition here," you shrugged. You weren't even sure if that was true, you just knew that it was what Nat had called it, when she taught you. "You have to swing really, really hard, and to win, you've gotta get it over the fence," you pointed, "and right into the back of that neighbourhood."

She blinked at you for a moment, and then Julie frowned, looking down to the ground. "That's mean, though. What if you hit someone's house? Or a window?"

"Bonus points," you shrugged. "I don't know, you can't really see where they go, once they're over the fence. It's fun."

Julie raised her eyebrows. "Don't you think it's a little immature? Why would I do that if I'm going to win for real?"

You opened your mouth to reply, then firmly closed it. "I guess you're right," you mumbled. It hadn't felt stupid when you suggested it, but Julie's disdain at the suggestion made you feel improper.

She did win, by a massive landslide, and you let her keep the scorecard with little protest. She was still beaming though, brightly at you like she had just had the best date of her life. Your stomach felt like it was tied up in a bunch of knots, but you smiled back at her nonetheless.

If love was something to be worked towards, you really hoped it would start working soon.

===+++===

You had only been home for about twenty minutes, when your phone started ringing. Off the hook. Over and over again. You knew who it was just from the ring, but that didn't mean you wanted to pick up.

After the disaster that was dropping Julie off at her house, you wanted to continue to staring at the ceiling. But after the sixth call back, it seemed Jackie wasn't giving up.

You picked the phone up with a frown, rolling over and smushing your chin into the bed. "Hello—"

"—OH MY GOD, YOU AND JULIE?!"

You groaned. "Jackie I dropped her off like thirty minutes ago, how do you already know about this?"

"So it's true?! You're dating?"

You sat up. "What? No, we just went on one date."

"Really? Cause Julie told Margie who told Randy who told Jeff, who told me that you kissed her and you're going out!"

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "I didn't kiss her, she kissed me. And it wasn't even like an actual kiss, she like, pecked me, and then scrambled out of my car and up her driveway."

"Well, she's saying you're going steady."

"'Going steady?' The 40s called, they wanted their slang back."

"Ha ha," Jackie said back, and you could hear the eye roll. She went silent. "...I bet your mom is happy."

"Probably..."

"Are you happy? You're probably a shoe-in for prom court, especially since I'll be out of town. Your mom won't let you go to nationals, will she?"

"No. She'll want me and Julie to go to prom together."

"Well, I mean, at least you'll win, right? That's gotta be exciting?"

You looked over to your nightstand, where you had a polaroid of you and Nat that sat taped to the side. "Thrilled."

"(Y/n)? You okay, hubby?"

You took a sharp swallow. "Yeah, I'm fine. Julie's great."

"Right...," she paused again, "does Nat...does she know?"

"I don't think so... It's only been like, thirty minutes."

"She will soon, though. Monday."

"Yeah...I guess she will soon."

===+++===

Monday was terrible. It seemed Julie had taken the awkward attempt at kissing you as the sign that you were together. She was there at your car when you first arrived, grinning again while you and Lottie got your things for school out of the second row. Then, the moment you had locked your car, you were tugged along by a hand grabbing yours.

You didn't exactly have a good reason to be grossed out. Julie was beautiful, and if you had felt the same way for her, you would have been thrilled with the enthusiasm. Hell, if it were... well. So, you mostly let her drag you wherever she wanted.

There was about a week, to run for prom court. Your mother had promptly called you that morning to insist on prom, and insist on shopping for prom, when she returned home on Wednesday, from Monaco. It was all Julie would talk about, and you were starting to wonder how much of this was a political move for her too, rather than one of genuine interest in you.

You first saw Nat coming down one of the halls, and you hesitated a bit the moment you saw that she noticed you. Or, that she noticed you and Julie together. It was the walk of shame, frankly. You didn't belong to her, in any formal sense. But your heart did, and that was enough for it to hurt. Badly.

It seemed to hurt her too. She immediately frowned, tugging on Kevyn's sleeve and walking in the opposite direction. You wanted to run after her, but Julie had an iron grip on your hand and a smile so bright.

It was awkward enough at lunch, with Julie insisting to sit next to you and to bring her golf friends. A few of them were nice, and Jackie managed to chat them up well enough to make even more friends than before, but Lottie had a frown the entire time, and Shauna looked less than happy.

Nat wasn't staring at you at lunch anymore. It was a startling realisation, that you wanted her to be looking at you. If anything, you were looking more at her. You kept turning around, trying to seem like you were just scanning the cafeteria, but Nat was firmly looking down at her food, at the same table as always.

You felt like a runaway dog that had temporarily shrugged off its collar, trying to find home with a tail between its legs. Julie was nice, and smart, and talented. But she wasn't the one. Your one.

===+++===

"Hey, you ready?" you asked Lottie, finding her out in the hallway in front of the locker rooms. it was Friday, and you both had your soccer bags slung over your shoulder, and were about to head out to practice, but Lottie seemed transfixed on a poster on the wall. "Hey now, you've got nationals tomorrow, no distractions," you tried.

"Is she seriously trying to make it seem like you two are soulmates?" Lottie said with a grimace. It was one of the ones Julie had made in two days, and was now putting all over the school to really earn you both the win. There was a drawing of you and her on it, with a heart in the middle, and 'VOTE JULIE & (Y/N) FOR PROM COURT 1996.' It was an objectively good design, but Lottie didn't like Julie very much— or at least had started to hate her, the longer you and her were together.

"I think it's because she has a crush on you," Julie said once with a pout, after Lottie had been less than welcoming to her on a ride home.

"No she doesn't," you shook your head.

"She definitely does. You shouldn't hang out with her as much, or people will think you and her are a thing. I mean, I did at first."

The whole conversation had only made Lottie more and more annoyed with her, and that was saying a lot, with how Lottie was usually nice to most people.

"Come on," you said, gesturing with your head out towards the pitch. "Last practice before nationals."

Lottie still had a frown on her face, but she followed you out there with her arms crossed. It was still relatively early, only a few people were out. Coach Martinez's son Travis was up in the bleachers, watching, while you could see Trevor and Misty talking next to the water cooler and Jeremy and Mari passing a ball back and forth to each other.

"Hey (Y/n)," a voice called from behind you, and you could feel a similar annoyance to Lottie's washing over you. You turned to see Carter Avery, back from his suspension, with a cheeky smirk on his face. "Miss me?"

"Not even close," you scowled. He brushed past you and Lottie, pausing for a moment when he was directly in front of you staring down in an attempt at intimidation. He kept walking though, until he paused, right at the edge of the pitch.

"Oh, and (Y/n)?"

"What."

"I think I need to borrow some eggs. You got any for me?" Your eyes widened. "What about toilet paper, then?"

It was intended to create anger in you. You knew he wanted you to charge at him or something, or to scowl, but all you did was stand there, in a stunned silence. You had thought that Nat would do that. That Nat could do that to you. Of course it wasn't Nat. You felt stupid and you felt guilty, and you felt even worse that you couldn't do much about either of those things. You could try, though. And maybe that would be enough.

Lottie sent you a knowing look, but all you wanted to do was curl up into a ball and die. Maybe you could try to talk to her, after practice? It was a long shot, but it was worth a try.

The Yellowjackets' moods were infectious, and it was impossible to not have a great time, at that practice. Their emotions were high, along with their excitement, and you started to feel a little bit better, the more you ran and the more you felt the wind in your hair.

Of course, that's when everything decided to go wrong. A single slide tackle from Taissa, right into Allie's leg, and everyone was panicking and yelling. You could see the bone sticking out from it, and Misty was bolting in your direction, hovering over her and attempting to right it.

"Can I get two people to carry her?" She shouted at both teams, and you immediately raised your hand, stepping forwards while Allie began to cry. You didn't even see who was grabbing her other arm until you had made it into the locker room, and Allie was still crying with Misty following behind and a very clueless looking Coach Ben behind her.

You should've known, it was her. She was selfless like that, even though she'd rather die than admit it herself. And yet, there Nat was, on the other side of Allie, laying her down on one of the locker room benches and raising her leg up. Misty ushered you both out into the hall, and suddenly both you and Nat were regretting volunteering.

You had to wait until she came out, so you would be able to carry her to the front, where the ambulance could arrive to take her to hospital, but until then it just meant you and Nat were forced to stand there in awkward silence.

It stayed that way, until you tried to speak. "So...nationals, hu—"

"Don't even," Nat snapped, shutting you up. She was twitching a little bit, in discomfort, and you knew right now that if it were outside, or if she were to have her bag, she would be pulling out a cigarette.

"...I know it wasn't you who egged my house. It was Carter... I'm...sorry."

"Real genius, aren't you."

"Allegedly. Not in practice, apparently," you admitted, sliding to the tiled floor in wait. She eyed you cautiously, but did the same, sliding down.

"Man, if I had a nickel, for every time we've been in this hallway with a serious injury... I'd have, what, two nickels?" You hummed, leaning your head back against the wall.

"That's not a lot," Nat said, rolling her eyes.

"No," you nodded in agreement, "but it's weird that it happened twice."

She thought for a minute, then shrugged. "I guess." You both could hear the whistle being blown outside, to end the final scrimmage and indicate that it was time to circle up.

"Don't you want to go hear that? Y'know, for tomorrow?"

Nat shook her head. "I'd rather be here for Allie. Though she's kind of an asshole."

You snorted. "She's a total fucking bitch."

"...Just so you know, I really did have to leave, after Lottie's party... I, uh, kissed your forehead, before I left... I guess you couldn't feel it though. You were asleep."

You shook your head. "I didn't know that..."

"...Yeah... my dad was being an asshole... it was a whole thing." You knew it hurt more than she was saying, right now, and you so desperately wanted to scoot closer, like you would've before things had gotten so messed up. Back when you were on the cusp of happiness.

"I'm sorry, Nat."

She shrugged again, like it didn't hurt, but you knew all too well. "For what?"

You would've said for being scared. For being weak. For not realising sooner. Anything. But instead you were interrupted by the sound of shoes on the tile.

Of course, there Julie had to be. She took a single look at Nat who was covered in sweat and a bit red from practice, and grimaced, before coming up to you and standing right over you, expectantly.

"Is practice over?" she asked, checking her watch. "I finished my club meeting. We have to go dress shopping— I want you there to colour match— and I need you to drop Margie off at her house, cause I said you would yesterday."

You blinked. "I mean... It kind of is? I should probably stay a bit—" you looked to Nat to see what she would say, but she was already standing up and walking off, taking the not so secret hint that Julie was telling her to get lost.

Julie watched her go, scowling behind her back and then spinning to you the moment the door clicked shut behind her. "What did she want with you?" she asked.

"We were just talking, Allie needed help."

"Well she's no good. She's one of those kids, y'know." You narrowed your eyes, getting up to your feet and wiping your hands on your shorts.

"What are you talking about?"

Julie tilted her head to the side, like she was confused by your confusion. "You must not have a lot of them, around here, but we had them all OVER, in Massachusetts. The town bicycles. Everyone wants a ride, if you know what I mean."

It was your turn to cross your arms. "No the hell I do not, Julie."

"Oh come on," she said, throwing up her hands. "She's trailer trash, at best. The delusional kind who thinks we'd look at her, like, ever. I mean, what's her body count, like over a hundred?"

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about," you snapped at her, glowering.

"Okay, I know she's on the Yellowjackets, and she's clearly trying to get in your pants, but cmon. I'm your girlfriend, we can laugh about this kind of—"

"No, the hell you aren't. You're not my girlfriend, Julie, and you barely ever fucking were. That girl you just insulted is the best fucking person I know. She's selfless, she's kind, she makes me laugh—"

"Well then go sleep with her then!" Julie yelled, stomping her foot.

"Y'know what, I already have! And I fucking love her. So there!" And you turned right around and stomped back out onto the pitch.

===+++===

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” you rolled your eyes, trudging down the stairs and calling out into the foyer. It wasn’t like whoever it was would actually be able to hear you, through the thickness of your door, if anything it was more to air your grievance with having to get up so fucking late. Your mom was once more distraught, now that you had kept the "perfect" girl for a single week and then promptly dumped her. Another vacation was in order.

Rain was still pounding on the roof from above, and it filled the emptiness of your house with a faint white noise, that was immediately shattered by the person pressing the button again. You rolled your eyes, deciding to walk even slower to the door out of nothing but spite.

When you actually opened the door, though, you had to blink a couple times, seeing a figure retreating already, down your drive. However long you had took had made them rethink why they were here, and you would've been all too happy to let the door close. That was, until you narrowed your eyes into the rain, just barely making out the shape of a familiar leather jacket.

"Nat?" You called into the storm, loud enough that there was no way she couldn't have heard you. You crossed your arms, thinking about how she had been earlier that day. "I know it's you, Natalie. Why the fuck are you here? You have nationals tomorrow."

She stopped in her tracks, just standing in it. She gently turned, shoulders rising and falling and it was clear she was breathing heavily. Her mascara was running in massive streaks down her face and dripping in small, grey droplets, and her eyes were sensitive and red, as if she had been crying and rubbed them raw. You swallowed what felt like a lump in your throat.

"This— all of this, with you— I— I can't," she stumbled, looking like a sad, wet dog in the rain.

"What?" you furrowed your eyebrows at her, walking out further onto your large, covered doorstep.

"I can't see you with her, (Y/n), I— I just can't."

"With Julie?"

Natalie threw up her arms in frustration. "Yes, Julie. I know she's perfect, or whatever, but— I— you can't be with her—"

"—Nat," you tried, stepping forward again.

"—Because I love you," she continued. You stopped in your tracks. It felt as if the air had been sucked right out of your lungs, even in the freshness brought by the storm. "I know we argue," her voice shook, "and I know we fight, and I know I smoke, and I curse, and I get bad grades, and my dad's a shithead, and I'm kind of an asshole sometimes— but I fucking love you, (Y/n). You.... I—"

"—Shut up," you said, shaking your head and rushing forward, out into the pouring storm. You collided with her, cupping her face in your cheeks and kissing her like the world would end in ten minutes. It would have, if you hadn't done it, and you had no idea how you had survived so long without doing it.

You kissed her once, and then you kissed her again, and then, when she was crying harder, and you were crying too, and she was holding onto your arms like you would fall away, you kissed her forehead, and held her tight in a hug.

"I'm selfish, and I'm a mess, and I'm never good enough for my stupid fucking parents," you said, over the rain and just for Nat, "and I don't realise that I hurt people 'cause that's not what my family does, and for that, I'm really, really fucking sorry."

She nodded in her tears, looking up at you as you both got rained on together. "But, I agree," you said, voice shaking, "we're not casual. I'm really, really fucking sorry, but I also really, really fucking love you, Nat. And I'm sorry I was too scared and too stupid, and," you raised your voice, as if to the sky, "I DON'T WANT TO FUCKING GO TO PRINCETON—" this time it was Nat who shut you up.

It was another kiss, but it was far more gentle than the first. It was a gentle press, and it took your breath away. When you pulled apart, you let your forehead fall against Natalie's. Even though the droplets were cold, you felt so warm.

After what felt like forever, but still wasn't long enough, Nat murmured to you, "should we go inside?" She still smelled like cigarettes and her perfume, just as she had in her trailer, and you intended to let the scent linger.

You shook your head. "Just stay out here a little longer with me. Please? Just let time pass."

She nodded, then smirked as she looked past you at the car on your driveway. "Fuckin' rich people."

===+++===

AAAAAND THAT'S CASUAL BABYYYYY! Finished at like 2 am. anyways, i'm tired and a little bit sleepy

[sugrhigh]

FIRST OF MANY - ( m.s )

REQUESTED**

summary- you and matt have been dating for over a month now, and you’ve never had sex. his curiosity gets the best of him while you’re watching a romcom, and you find out he’s actually a virgin.

warnings- swearing, virgin!matt, technically unprotected sex, smut at the end (lmk if i missed shit)

virgin!matt x fem!reader

a/n: this is my first req that i’ve ever done, so THANK U TO THE ANON WHO LEFT IT i hope it lives up to your expectations ❤️ if u have ideas drop them in my inbox ! all da love

there is literally nothing matt likes more than spending the night in with his girlfriend, as corny as it might sound. it’s been well over a month of dating now, and he still can’t get enough of you.

the warmth of your body is comforting as you lay beside him on the sofa, dressed down in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. he has one steady arm wrapped around your shoulder so he can hold you against his chest.

he breathes you in as his fingers skim absentmindedly up and down your exposed bicep, a familiar mixture of laundry detergent and citrus shampoo.

“that feels nice.” you mumble into his shirt, eyes still glued to the tv.

you’re forcing him to watch friends with benefits, since he picked the last movie and you were in dire need of a romcom fix. it’s one of your favorites, mainly because you loved mila kunis so much in that 70s show.

it’s only been on for roughly thirty minutes, but matt’s been enjoying it way more than he expected considering this genre is not his norm. he’s even let out a couple laughs at the scripted jokes.

the main characters are in bed together again, rolling around as they banter back and forth about sleeping with each other. it sparks a fire of curiosity inside of him as he continues to stare at the screen.

“is this really what it’s like?” he asks without thinking, and he immediately regrets his words as you tilt your head to look up at him curiously.

“what, the sex? don’t act like you don’t know.” you say, playfully smacking him with the back of your hand.

matt isn't sure why he brought it up, but he figures now is as good a time as any to have this dreadful conversation.

“how could i know if i’ve never done it?”

he feels you tense up slightly under his arm, which scares him. the last thing he wants you to think is that he’s some sort of loser. he just hadn’t found anyone that he really wanted to be intimate with before he met you.

it’s not like you guys don’t fool around sometimes. he’s perfectly capable of using both his hands and his mouth; this is a fact you’ve been made well aware of.

you two just haven’t gone all the way yet, especially considering you hardly ever get real alone time together.

“you don’t have to lie about the girls you’ve been with just because we’re dating now.” you finally respond, quieter than before.

“oh my god, i’m telling the truth, so please don’t make me say it again.” he can’t look at you anymore, because he’s too embarrassed.

this makes you fully sit up in shock, no longer focused on the premise of the film. he can feel you staring at the side of his beet red face, clearly confused by this revelation.

“wait, are you seriously telling me that you’re a virgin?” you question.

matt glances back at you and crosses his arms defensively, because it suddenly feels like he’s under attack. “you’re making me seem like a freak or something.”

he watches your eyes soften as you put a tentative hand on his shoulder, trying to let him know that you weren’t making fun of him.

“shit, i’m sorry, i swear i didn’t mean it like that. it’s just…really surprising, that’s all.”

“surprising how?”

you pull your lips between your teeth, exhaling through your nose as you try and find the right words.

“well we’ve done stuff before, and you were just naturally good at it, so i assumed you’d learned from hooking up with other people. and i know girls must have liked you with a face like that.”

this boosts his ego, and he’s already in a much better mood knowing he’s at least made you feel good in the past. that doesn’t mean he’s not still terrified, but he’s a little more confident than he was before.

“nope, not really. you’re the only one i’ve ever done that kind of thing with, aside from a little making out.” matt admits with a shrug.

your lips part, and it’s making you feel all fluttery.

“wow.”

he smiles a little bit. “i don’t know what that means.”

“it doesn’t mean anything really. i’ve only had sex a few times, and it doesn’t change anything either way.” you move your hand up and down his arm a little bit.

the tv plays in the background, and your mind flits to his original question.

“are you curious? is that why you asked?” you tilt you head toward the screen, though you keep your focus on him.

his eyes go a little wide, and the feeling of your hand on his arm suddenly becomes overwhelming.

“yeah, i—uh, i guess i am.” matt stumbles over his words, and your fingers travel higher to run through his hair slowly.

“you don’t have to be nervous. you can ask me anything you want, i’m not gonna judge.” you say softly.

your fingernails raking along his scalp makes him shudder slightly, a response that you both enjoy.

“i’m…more of a hands-on learner.” he rasps.

you let your fingers travel to rest on the back of his neck, drawing him in for a soft kiss. it’s short and sweet, and his eyelids flutter a bit as you pull away.

“what do you want to do?”

he pauses for a moment before deciding to give in and say what’s on his mind. “nick and chris aren’t home. maybe we should go to my room?”

you grin, nodding your head like you’re in a trance. you’re both trying to hide your giddiness as you scramble off of the couch, carelessly tossing the blankets aside.

you can feel him staring at your ass as you lead him through the hall, and he gives it a little smack of appreciation.

“matthew sturniolo!” you laugh, turning the doorknob to his bedroom.

it greets you warmly, and you always love it because the whole place smells like him. the overhead light is off; it’s just the singular lamp casting warm rays across the mattress.

“couldn’t help it.” he says, smile prominent in his tone as he locks the door behind you.

you slow to a stop at the foot of his bed, and he stands at your side, hand intertwined in yours. it makes your heart swell as he admires you with those charming eyes.

“are you sure? we really don’t have to, there’s no rush.” you squeeze his palm reassuringly.

matt lets go just so he can hold your head, kissing you hard as an answer. you literally can’t help but beam into his lips, and you put one hand on his chest to push him against his silk sheets.

he falls onto his back, propping himself up on his elbows so he can keep looking at you. you crawl on top of him, slowly settling on his hips.

he sucks in a shaky breath as you shift against him to get comfortable. you can feel matt growing harder beneath you as you lean down to give him another swift kiss, letting his mouth melt against yours.

then you move to his earlobe, pressing your lips to the hollow part of his neck. you swipe your tongue against his skin, biting down just a bit so you can suck on the area slightly.

he groans, laying down now so he can move his hands to grip your ass, pushing you against him harder to feel a little more friction. the thin material of your sweatpants doesn’t hide a whole lot, and he’s straining against you now.

“you’re so cute, baby.” you say against his skin, and his hands go to the bottom of your shirt, pulling it up over your hips.

you lift your hands from his chest so he can fully remove it, leaving you in your stretchy black bralette.

“god, you’re unreal.” he breathes, and you guide his palms to cup each of your breasts, still rocking against him slightly as you straddle him.

you can feel him squeeze your nipples between his middle and pointer fingers, whimpering below you as he starts to get worked up. you’re growing wet by the second, the delicious feeling of his clothed dick rubbing against you sending shocks of satisfaction right to your core.

“do you wanna keep going?” you ask, just to make sure he’s still on board.

“please.” he begs.

you move his shirt up his chest, and matt sits just high enough to rip it over his head. you trace the tattoos on his arm faintly, trailing a finger down the center of his stomach till you hit the waistline of his sweats.

“you’re terrifying.” he smiles as you slip your hand under the band of his boxers, slowly scratching the area gently.

“why?” you ask.

he grabs your waist and flips you so you’re the one on your back, feet hanging over the edge of the bed as he stands.

“because everything you do is perfect.” he says, and this time he’s the one that goes to your pants, grabbing the soft material and looking at you for permission.

“that is so not true.” you grin as you lift yourself up to help him.

he strips them off your legs and tosses them away blindly, so you’re left in your matching thong. the spandex-like material hugs your sides, the last layer standing between what you both truly want.

“i mean look at you.” he sounds dumbfounded as he gazes at your body, and you feel your face flush from the attention.

“trust me, i’m the one who’s punching.” you reply as he strips down to his boxers, dick clearly pressing against the plaid cloth. you’ve seen it before, on two occasions to be exact.

both of those experiences were great, and you didn’t know that was the first time a girl had ever given him head. now you know this is the first time he’s having sex, and even though it’s not the same for you, you’re still a bit nervous.

matt’s a little above average, and the last and only person you’ve ever done it with is your ex, so it’s been a minute. even so, you’re so enthralled with your boyfriend that you can’t help but pulse in excitement.

he pushes your legs apart with his palms, and air rushes across the wet spot that’s already formed over your panties. two fingers press against the fabric covering your heat, which shocks a gasp out of you. he moves them in a little circular pattern, applying more pressure so he can really feel you.

“love your fingers,” you rock with his pace, speaking through a moan, “but i wanna make you feel good too.”

“oh, okay. so i should…” he stops his motions to go for his own underwear, finally sliding them down so his hard length springs free.

you’re already working your own bottoms down your thighs, and he finishes the job for you once his hands are free.

“do you have a condom?”

“uh, shit…” you can tell by the solemn look that crosses his face that he doesn’t, and you let out a short laugh.

“it’s okay, it’s alright, i’m on birth control. we’ll be more prepared next time.”

his eyebrows shoot up before he can help it. next time. just the confirmation that this will happen again makes him disgustingly happy.

you wiggle up on the bed a little bit, so he has enough room to hover on top of you. he leans down a few more inches to give you a kiss, and you can tell he’s unsure what to do next, so you take control.

“don’t put it inside yet, just slide it against me a few times.” you try and instruct, and he follows well, dragging the base of his shaft up and down your wet cunt.

you let out a little noise of pleasure, and he wants to save it as a sound bite in his memory.

“okay, slowly, go ahead.” you say after a few more seconds spent enjoying the feeling, and both of you make sure he’s lined up properly.

matt looks you in the eye as he pushes inside, taking his time as you adjust bit by bit. he lets out a moan when he’s fully filling you up, shocked by how fucking amazing you feel.

you know he’s stretching you out, but the small pinpricks of pain subside as you get situated.

“you can start moving now, just keep it gentle at first.” you guide him, voice all choked up.

he nods, his long hair almost tickling your forehead as he starts to pump in and out at a leisurely pace. you’re both groaning messes, and your hands go to claw at his back as he keeps pace.

“fuck, you’re doing so well matt.” you mutter against his chest, pressing open-mouth kisses to his collarbone.

he’s getting into it now, finding a good rhythm and relaxing his hips slightly so he’s not as stiff. your bodies are molded together as you move back and forth, and matt can feel you clutching against his cock with each stroke.

“m’not gonna last much longer, angel.” he confesses, clumsily stumbling over his words as he tries to calm himself down, to keep it in just a bit longer.

“that’s okay, babe. tonight is all about you.”

he’s growing sloppier, and matt leans in to kiss you passionately as he gets closer and closer. surprisingly enough, you can feel the pressure building in your own stomach, and you’re both whining into each others mouths as your tongues mesh together.

“right there baby, i’m close too.” you breathe, and you can feel his body trembling against yours, one hand slipping underneath your bra so he can run his thumb over your nipple.

matt holds it all back, drilling into you as hard as he possibly can with the energy he has left. he loves the way you’re scratching at his back, pulling him as close as possible as you both reach your peak.

“i’m—fuck, oh my god.” he tenses up, and you feel him twitch inside of you as he comes undone.

his own reaction is what sends you over the edge, and you ease into the high, letting yourself finish all over him as he slows to a stop.

“yes, matt, holy shit.” you sigh, and he pulls out carefully moments later.

matt flops down beside you, rolling to press his lips to your cheek. you turn your head slightly to look at him, capturing his mouth with yours for another real kiss.

“i think i could get used to that.” he says with a small grin as he pulls away, and your ruffle his hair lightheartedly.

“lucky for you that was just the first time of many. so how was it?” you ask him.

he’s just opening his mouth when a loud pounding erupts on the door, and you both nearly jump out of your skin at the disturbance.

“hey! open the fucking door, we brought you guys mcdonald’s!” chris screams through the barrier.

you both look at each other, still grinning, and matt can’t help but roll his eyes.

“well, being alone was nice while it lasted.”

[prettyboykatsuki]

oliver talking his partner through it and calling him d**** god your brain is so huge my stomach hurts thinking about this. he’ll never tell you he loves you to your face and tries to fuck you more like he hates you because he doesn’t want to get too attached but as you’re getting close he’s all in your face and your neck, teasing you, biting your ear and softly begging you to tell him how you feel, how it’ll be better for him if you tell d**** just how close you are and how much you need him. takes you over the crest so sweetly, and continues rolling into you, chasing his own. his kisses are nonstop and so overwhelming, and he knows they are but he just really needs to connect with you like this. never the first to say “i love you” but unfortunately (in his opinion) he expresses it in so many other ways. sorry.

but i crumble completely when you cry | a. oliver

✮ tags ; DADDY KINK, afab + fem!reader, situationship!oliver, hooking up, unresolved romantic tension, p in v, praise, soft sex, it gets emotionally strange, riding, creampies, unprotected sex, under-negotiated kink in a sense though oliver is very careful

✮ wc ; 2.2k (i dont want to talk about it)

✮ a/n ; anon im going to haunt your dreams for putting this absurd image into my head when i dont even go here im crying screaming throwing up ive been thinking about it for hours. hours of my life wasted on this guys dick. upsetting!!!!!

also i do not write this often and do not plan too again any time soon so if ur seeing this and thinking about following me for content like it i would not recommend!!!

✮ synopsis ; you don't trust oliver with your heart or your feelings. nor do you expect anything from him.

but it's hard not to lean into him when he decides to cradle you so gently.

Your relationship with Oliver is both very ambiguous and very clear.

There's a line drawn, and you both steer clear of crossing it in your interactions. Oliver is fun. He's attractive and charming, a massive flirt but just genuine enough to be interesting.

It helps that he's hot. Physically, he's got an unreal build.

He's an athlete, so he's big. Wide chest and strong arms, thick thighs and the height to top it off. He's 6'3, and he's sexy (and his dick is huge) - and you sleep with him because of that. You don't date him explicitly because he's a womanizer. If you'd met when you were a little younger, a little more naive - you might've tried to dog-train him into being your boyfriend.

Because on top of the immaculate dick, he's fun to be around. He's funny, he drinks well, he's not a scumbag in the ways that turn you off.

You're old enough to know better. You have a career. You're too busy, and too jaded about love to try and fix whatever weird shit he has going on. So even if the two of you harbor some sort of emotional or romantic feelings for each other, you're smart enough to not get invested in those feelings and smart enough to have no expectations.

Oliver is your fun. He's your sneaky link, your weekend off. You come to him to blow off steam. You have rough, fast sex and it's good. Sometimes you chill afterwards, and you'll indulge each other in some physical affection but other times you take your shower and leave. It's a good time, and you know well enough not to ever ask him for any of your emotional needs. You have your therapist and girl friends for that.

Normally, when you're having a rough week - it's prime time to go to him. He'll fuck you a little harder than usual, and sometimes he's nice enough to kiss it better. But it's still, very distinctly, never crossing that boundary.

But some weeks, like this week - shit is bad. Not just stressful bad, but everything in the fucking world that could go wrong, is going wrong bad. It's not the kind of thing you can get over by compartmentalizing and even when you try to do your usual thing it doesn't really work.

You're trying right now - to get over the fucked up week you had. And you're turned on, but somehow - it's still not enough to get you completely out of it.

Oliver pauses mid stroke, in missionary - hetero-chromatic eyes staring you down as your thoughts are somewhere else completely. You don't notice the first time he stops, or the first time he calls you.

And he only gets your attention by cupping your face and making you look at him. You startle as you cast your glance his way.

"What's with you?" He asks, though he's not pissed or anything "Not feelin' it? Want me to stop?"

"No, you don't have too."

"Not what I asked," He chastises, letting go of your face "Not having your full attention is making me go soft,"

This makes you laugh, and Oliver cracks a smile seeing the tension melt off your face if only slightly.

"I'm cool with stopping." He assures. You let your hand reach up to his shoulder.

"It's not like I want to stop, necessarily? Like I wanna do something to get my mind off it and sex feels like the best option, but you know how it goes sometimes," You say, trying your best to avoid the emotional baggage of your words "We can stop though. I'll pay you for your wasted time," You tack the joke on at the end to ease the tension.

You're expecting him to pull out and stop, or maybe challenge himself into fucking you so good that you forget. Something more quintessentially Oliver than what he does do.

He gives you a blank look first, than a laugh that is a touch too sincere for you to be comfortable "That bad of a week?"

You're suddenly in dangerous territory. Somehow, this strange intimacy makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You swallow thickly, the emotions coming over you so quick you end up looking away.

"Yeah. You know. It's fine, but you know."

"Mm," He says. He leans into your space. His breath is warm and his stubble tickles your skin as he whispers in your ear. You feel your breath hitch. And the air feels heavy "Wanna try somethin' else?"

"Like what?"

"A surprise," He says first, and find your stomach tightening. A hollowness in your nerves "Gotta trust me."

"You're scaring me." You joke.

"I'm a sex expert, you know?" Oliver says, humming against your skin "If I can't remedy your little problem with my dick, it's bad for my street cred. My yelp reviews will tank."

"You're such a dumbass."

"Do you trust me?"

You don't know how to answer. Yes, for the most part. Not with everything, but with your pleasure at least. Whatever this is, it doesn't feel the same. But you say yes, anyways. Oliver kisses your jaw in reply, then he pulls out.

He flips position easily. He ends up on his back, then he grabs you to rest on top of him. You're not sure what you're expecting. He holds you by your hips as your sex hovers over his cock. His thumb is rubbing circles into your skin as he sinks you down slowly onto him.

You only stare at him, mouth opening as you feel him stretch you open for a second time.

You're more aware of it this way. He's so thick, and so intrusive - and normally, you're feeling that in hard strokes. Fast and rough, like something knocking into your cervix. But like this, he's hitting a deep angle. You can feel every curve, every inch, as you come down slowly.

He keeps you there. For longer than you'd expect. Just keeps you, settles you, holds you gently. You stare at him as he grabs your hand, locking your fingers. Your first instinct is to panic, or crack a joke - but there's an intense look in his eye that shuts you up.

Uncharacteristically gentle, you find yourself frightened. Oliver's hands reach for you again. They hold your waist and slide up the planes of your body. He holds your tits in his palms and squeezes.

He does this a lot, but there's not usually this much touching. This much foreplay. It's grabby, a deeper pressure. He doesn't...feel you, in the way he is now. You stare at him, and he looks back at you so fondly you feel a strange urge to pretend it never happened.

"Play with your clit," He says, though there's no urgency in his voice.

Deep and smooth, the timbre in it has you shaking. You listen, on auto-pilot as you play with yourself clumsily and build a slow pressure. He just watches.

"C'mere, baby. And don't stop touching yourself."

Another pause. It's not the first time he's called you that. He likes to call you all sorts of things when you're fucking, and baby is one of the few. But not like that. Not like this. He gives you a lazy, self satisfied smile and encourages you by placing a hand on where he can reach on your low back.

You lean down, and Oliver tucks you into his chest. He's warm, and strong - and smells so good, like musk and cologne. Your free hand is on his chest, as he grips your hips and fucks up into you.

"That's it," His voice is pleasant to your ears. It feels funny to you "Just gotta listen to me."

He starts fucking you slowly. It's a familiar feeling, a pleasant stretch that dulls into a euphoric fullness. But it's never been this slow before. Each thrust is slow, and punctual, and so deep you feel yourself gasping. It's not enough to push you over the edge, but it's enough to make your mind feel a little numb.

You think he's going to keep at you like this, maybe edge you to take you out of it. But he doesn't. He keeps his pace.

"Had a hard time this week, didn't you, tough girl?" He mumbles, so low it doesn't feel real. You feel your heart start to race. You feel your throat start to close around something, choking "Did a good job and came to me. Gonna let me take care of it?"

You stumble. You aren't sure what to say, you nod and hope he feels it. He laughs a little. You can't be sure if you're fucking Oliver or not.

You know it's him but he's never been like this. Not once. Not ever.

"Gonna let daddy take care of you?" He says, though it's tentative. Your breath hitches. Something strange overwhelms your senses "Tell me, baby."

"Uhm," Your first reaction is a sense of resistance, an immediate pull away. Not that you hate it but you aren't sure how to adjust. You squirm, but you don't tell him no. You feel like you can't in this state "Uh-uh,"

He keeps surprising you, pressing his lips to yours where you hover over him, tender as he ups the pace of his thrusts.

"That's what I like to hear," He almost sounds proud "You'll hurt your head if you think too much. And I'd be a bad daddy, letting that happen, yeah?"

A vulnerable, foreign sensation drives you to speak "You're not bad in that way."

He laughs "Just in other ways, right?"

You giggle "Uh-huh."

"But not in this one," He repeats, very carefully. He fucks into you harder now, pays extra special attention to you. It's all for you, is what he's saying in a language completely foreign yet somehow so known. One only the two of you will ever know fully, confined in the four walls of this room "Daddy is good at taking care of you like this, so you should let him do just that. Tough girls always need their daddies, hm?"

It's what ends up tipping you up over the edge. You cling to him, succumbing to whatever weird space the two of you have fallen into you. Suspended in this odd sense of comfort that Oliver has thrust you in unannounced.

You don't trust Oliver with a lot, and this is more than what you should ever find yourself giving. In the back of your head you think you should pull away.

But he's comforting. It feels good, and strangely feels safe - and even for all the ways he's awful, you trust he'd never do anything bad to you. Even if it's a blip in the timeline, for now it's what you need. A blurry cross into your emotional needs that translate into your physical ones. Too much and so overwhelming, you hug closer to him and take a deep breath.

"Mm," You let yourself lean into him. Just this once, you promise yourself. "I wanna cum."

"Want it a little harder?"

"Mhm,"

"Then Daddy will give it to you a little harder, yeah? Anything for you." He says, and you try not to think to deeply on what that really means. Because even in this state you know it's not nothing, but you should never pry "Daddy can give you anything you want."

"Yeah?"

He chuckles a little as he fucks into you hard. Fucks into you how you need. You're wet enough, and wondering if you were always so into being doted on. Or if it's just the fact that it's Oliver. Another thing you decide to overlook as you zero in on the sensation of being pistoned from underneath. You're soaking. The room noisy with the sticky noise of Olivers cock penetrating you over and over, skin hitting skin as his hips press against your ass. His grip is bruising but not intentionally, his chest huffed in pleasure.

He's just as close as you are, you know all of his cues. You play with your clit faster, sensitive bud throbbing hard as all the blood rushes south. Your mouth has fallen open as the slow, thick desire coiling and culminating into something cosmic. Something big and heavy, but not too fast. Not a crash landing like you're used to.

But a single weight, the force of a star dropping to Earth. You figure Oliver is the gravity in your universe, holding you down so you don't float too far. You want to cling onto him for much longer.

And somehow, you're inclined to think he would let you.

"Oliver," You say his name as it builds, then decide on something else "Daddy,"

"I'm here, baby," He says back, like it's all he has to say for everything to make sense when nothing about this does "I'm right here. Let go."

So you do. You cum hard, and it comes in long never ending waves. Too much. It makes you collapse in Olivers arms, both arms coming around his neck as he continues to fuck you through the aftermath.

"Gonna," He voices, rasping as his thrusts become sloppy "Shit. Cumming, shit."

He cums with you, cums deep inside like usual and you mewl at the feeling of being filled with hot, sticky seed.

When it's over, you're almost afraid to look at him. When the tensions settled, and his chest goes back to it's steady breaths - you wonder whats going to happen next.

"Wanna stay like this for a while?"

You nod.

"Mm. Sleepy."

"Stay like this, then. I'll wake you in a little."

"So you can kick me out?" You joke, trying to pretend nothing is different. He pauses.

"Just to shower," He whispers, hand resting on your lower back "Sleep."

There's too much to think about. Tomorrow will be strange. You let yourself succumb to your own exhaustion.

"Okay."

[mitsuyeaah]

hey, i was wondering how bonten (or ran, rindo, and sanzu) would act if they misunderstood a situation between you and your older brother and they got all jealous. (no inc*st or step-cest or anything like that). it’s a funny trope so i thought i’d ask lol

MISUNDERSTANDINGS

syn: bonten trio accidentally misunderstanding a situation between you and your older brother.

TR ft. RAN, RINDOU, SANZU

cw: swearing, jealous!bonten trio but other than that, just pure fluff, pet names (baby, babe, princess, darling)

a/n: sorry this took quite a while, anon! wrote this while i was at the gym hehe

₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ RAN HAITANI

— tries to understand the situation. ran tries to keep a cool front, keyword: tries. he knows he’s mature enough to not jump to conclusions but it’s driving him absolutely crazy so he resorts to confrontation.

“oh, hey babe! just getting this sorted out.” ran stared at the scene in front of him, he could feel his limbs tingling from he didn’t know what exactly—jealousy? anger? confusion? you sat on the living room floor, assembling the new coffee table you and ran had bought; it was all fine until his eyes landed on a man sitting across you, helping with the furniture. what the fuck? you had come up to him so casually with another man in his presence, kissing his cheek as you greeted him. were you not ashamed one bit? guilty? that another man was under the roof the two of you shared? stepped foot in a home designed for you and him only? ran stood there, pools of lilac boring holes onto the unknown man’s head.

you turned to ran, noticing the shift in his aura but his eyes were locked onto the man next to you. before you could call out his name, he opened his mouth, “and who might you be? didn’t know we had a.. guest, if i may.” his tone was flat and cold but a saccharine smile made its way to his lips as if to taunt the man. you furrowed your brows, “ran—” “no, princess. i want to hear from him. he’s got his own voice, yeah?” you blinked up at ran as he cut you off. was he being for real right now? why was he being rude?

your older brother let out an awkward chuckle and scratched at his nape, “i’m- i’m their older brother.. uh, nice to meet you, ran haitani, right?” your sibling hastily stood up, jutting out an arm at ran who looked like he had seen a ghost. every single feeling was drained from his body at the man’s introduction. well shit. “darling.. i’ve told you about my older brother so many times.. do you not remember?” ran wracked around his brain. shit. shit. you had told him but he somewhat forgot about it.

he stood there for a few seconds before quickly shaking your brother’s hand, “oh fuck, i’m so sorry! shit shit— i didn’t mean to be rude at all!” ran’s eyes widened before profusely bowing in front of your older brother. you bit back a smile, ran has never acted like this before—it was such a sight to see him all flustered and embarrassed. a man who’s nothing but self assured turned into a flustered mess in front of your brother. “you treat all strangers like this..?” your brother mused, clearly joking. ran’s mouth opened and closed as he turned crimson red. both you and your sibling laughed out loud at his awkward state.

₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ RINDOU HAITANI

— waits for you to admit it. rindou is not a man of many words, he doesn’t really like confrontations and would rather hear it from you without him having to ask you—even if it swarms his thoughts day and night.

“you know.. you can tell me anything..” rindou’s deep voice sliced through the peaceful silence of the night, the vibrations from his chest going straight to your ear as you lie your head atop it. there was this slight hesitancy in his tone that made you furrow your brows, “hm? what do you mean?” you angled your head to look up at his face—his amethyst eyes were cast with the warm glow of the bedside lamp but you could see the swirling storm behind it. rindou stared straight ahead, his hand had stopped rubbing your back. he bit his lip, feeling a lump in his throat as he mustered the courage to say something. to address the elephant in the room.

“i.. i know you’re seeing someone else.. i saw another man’s shoes at the doorstep when i came home.” upon seeing it earlier, rindou turned and left to clear his thoughts. he closed his eyes, his hand that hovered over your back balled into a fist. furrowing your brows, you put the pieces together in your head and before you knew it, a wide grin was plastered on your face. rindou’s eyes shot open as you burst out laughing, no sign of guilt on your face. he was confused. “wha—” “baby.. those shoes you saw earlier? they were my brother’s! he came by to meet you but you came home later than usual.” you buried your face in his chest, shaking with laughter.

rindou’s brows shot up, “but— how— you didn’t tell me..?” “i texted you, remember? though i don’t think you replied at all.” realisation sank in and rindou wanted the bed to swallow him whole. his phone had died and had no way of charging it, hence why he didn’t see your text earlier. he buried his face in his palms as he felt his face heat up in embarrassment. how could he be so silly? “fuck, how embarrassing.. i’m so sorry for assuming, baby. i—” “baby, it’s okay.” you tried to console him but ended up bursting with laughter at the situation, earning a deep sigh from rindou and his face shielded with his hands.

₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ HARUCHIYO SANZU

— immediately jumps to a conclusion. sanzu is a very clingy partner, he sees another man next to you? he sees red. doesn’t beat around the bush, and he gets straight to the point—this behaviour of his, he’s picked up from doing his job in bonten.

“who the hell is this?! are you cheating on me?” you almost dropped the plate you were holding at sanzu’s loud voice. there he stood at the entrance of the kitchen, sleeves of his button down shirt rolled up, hair tousled—a clear sign of a rough day from work. a vein was prominent at the side of his neck as he questioned you. sanzu narrowed his eyes at the man who stood next to you, not only was he in his kitchen, he also wore his apron. “sanzu! that-that’s not the way to greet my brother!” you took a few steps to stand in front of him as you saw rage brewing behind his azure eyes; it all quickly dissipated as his eyes darted between the two of you. oh. you two did have the same eyes.

sanzu bit his bottom lip, embarrassment quickly swallowing him. he remembered his outburst a few seconds ago and he wanted nothing but to crawl into a hole. “ah.. um.. my apologies. didn’t know you had an older brother.” he sheepishly smiled at you, scratching at his nape. “well now you do. he was so eager to meet you, you know.” you raised a brow at him before proceeding to set up for dinner—with the help of your older brother. sanzu awkwardly stood there, feeling out of place. he locked gazes with your brother before shuffling to his feet and warmly greeting the man; you playfully shook your head at sanzu as you heard him profusely apologising, his tone much calmer and quieter now.

throughout the night, sanzu kept close. he fully knew you were still a bit upset at how he acted towards your brother. he didn’t blame you, it was entirely his fault. he was clingy—a hand on your thigh, an arm slung around your waist, his shoulder touching yours. you’ve already forgiven him earlier but you wanted to see how far he’d keep up with this; it was cute to say the least. how he followed you like a puppy with it’s tail between it’s legs, clearly guilty of his actions.

© mitsuyeaah

[hughiecampbelle]

Cornered (Homelander Oneshot)

Character/s: Homelander

Word Count: 1,645

Requested: Hi! Can I request Homelander x reader with the prompts “Engagement” and “I missed you”? I haven’t requested anything from anyone in awhile so I hope I’m doing this right 😆 - anon

A/N: I'm so sorry it's taken me so long my love! Writing fics has been especially hard lately. I have so many great requests, so many good ideas, but I hate everything I write and I just don't want to post something I'm unhappy with. I'm still not 100% over this, but rewriting it over and over just ends up making it worse unfortunately 😅 Writers block is so frustrating and makes me feel awful. Thank you for being so patient and I really hope you like it!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

I missed you. His room is completely destroyed. Mirrors shattered, statues broken, furniture in flames. And he stands in the middle, perfectly untouched, unphased, arms stretched outward. He expects a hug. He expects a lot of things. You step over the debris, inhaling the scent of smoke, of burning, mazing through the mess towards him. It’s too quiet. Aside from the crackling of the fire, it eats through the fabric, the stuffing of the couch, you could hear a pin drop. This place had always been eerie, but it was downright frightening. His smile is wide, unfaltering. He wraps himself around you, his hand raising to cradle the back of your head, pressing you into him. He never learned to be gentle. He never learned to hug someone like he likes them. He does it out of ownership, control. He does it so that you cannot fight back. You squeeze your eyes shut, imagining a different life, a different love, anything but this. Your arms stay still at your side. I missed you so much, he says again as a sign in relief. He doesn’t wait for you to respond. He’s learned, over the years, that conversations like this lack a back and forth. They are one sided. He talks to himself. Sometimes he’s okay with it. Sometimes he’s not. At this moment, he is the latter. I missed you so much. Is he talking to himself? Responding to himself? Is he trying to comfort himself? Did you miss me? This is a test. Unable to speak, to find your voice, you nod. You make sure he can feel you do this. Good, he smiles, that's good. You did good. You passed. This time. 

It’s hard to remember a time before this. There was a childhood. An adolescence. Young adulthood. There had to be. People didn’t just wake up one day, existing instantaneously. You had to have had a family, friends, some sort of education. There are glimpses of that, of a person who lived, who looked like you, who is long gone. A best friend you shared crayons with. Maybe they were colored pencils. All you see is the colors, the dimpled hands of small children grabbing greedily at the cyan blue or cherry red. You don’t know what you were drawing, or who this other person was, only that, for a few seconds at least, you had a friend. Someone who cared about you, perhaps even loved you. There is a car ride. You’re big enough to sit in the passenger seat. It’s bright outside, green, probably Spring. The window is cracked open, the breeze kissing your face, the sunlight beaming down through the branches of the tree lined street. A feminine voice is talking to you. Her words are muffled, her tone malleable. Sometimes she sounds happy, on the verge of laughter. Other times she’s annoyed, frustrated. The scenery never changes. It is always nice out. It was always warm. You like to think of her as your mother. A maternal figure concerned for your safety, pleasantly surprised about a good grade, tired of your attitude. You’d take it all, needy for validation. A father, you’re sure, slamming a door. There’s a suitcase on the floor, between you. You’re not sure who takes ownership over it. There is yelling, a language you don’t recognize. He vibrates, his anger cartoonish. What did you do to deserve this? Are you leaving or is he? You’re older than you were in the car ride. You’re not sure how you know, only that you do. There is no beginning or end, just snippets of the middle. How does this play out, you wonder. You could come up with a story. He’s leaving and you’re trying to stop him. You’re leaving and he’s trying to stop you. You’re not sure which is better. 

There are glimpses of the past. Yours, you assume, though the line between reality and fantasy has long been gone, worn away with time and desperation. A taste of normalcy. You imagine you lived in a small town in the middle of the country, somewhere bleak and boring, somewhere you could have been extraordinary. You imagine a child version of yourself dreaming of this future down to the last detail. You wake up each morning in his bed, in his place, at the top of the tower. For a few cloudy seconds you view this world from the perspective of a stranger: there is an engagement ring on your finger, the space beside you in the bed is empty, the room you occupy is grand and expensive looking. The person who lives here, who found love, who has everything they could ever want, should be happy, right? And then, like a slap across the cheek, stinging, it hits you: you are that person. So why aren’t you happy? Isn’t this what you wanted? Isn’t this what you asked for? Dreamed of? 

The haze ends your first weeks after joining The Seven. Reporters, cameras flashing, overwhelmed by voices and snapshots and microphones. You smile, doing your best to hear a question between the mumbling of the crowds. A hand pulls you through the chaos, leading you to salvation. Safely inside, he laughs, congratulating you. There’s a light in his eyes that is warm, safe. You can’t believe he’s giving you attention, let alone complimenting you. You thank him. He’s there again, behind you, a hand on your shoulder. It was reassuring at the time, a way to show solidarity between veteran and rookie heroes. Your voice shakes, fear and anxiety radiating through you. You’d never had your own press conference before. It was after a big save, though. Everyone stood back, letting you in the limelight. You debuted a new suit, a new identity, letting your name fade away. Even now it sounds alien to you. The person you were and the person you are are disconnected, isolated. It’s been years since you’ve heard someone say it. Hearing it in passing is no longer startling, it no longer grabs your attention. It’s lost all meaning. 

This was years ago. You were still fresh faced. His touch was new, exciting. His affections were innocent, friendly. This world was bright and shiny. It’s lost its excitement. It’s lost its appeal. The warmth in his eyes turned hot, burning, furious. The last time you fought they glowed red, a warning that he was not fucking around. How long ago was that? Weeks, maybe months. You’ve been good. You do as you’re told. You smile when you need to. You kiss him. You pose. You show off your ring. The story was breaking news, running through the cycle the past few days: Homelander popped the question and you said yes! You don’t recognize yourself in the interviews. You don’t recognize him either. You’re happy, laughing easily, talking about wedding plans. The interviewer, a woman with lipstick on her teeth, asks about the future. Oh, you say. The mask slips. You hadn’t thought about the future. Years now you spent getting through the moment, the minute. You didn’t have it in you to think ahead. You couldn’t. You knew what it looked like, what he’d want from you, what you’d have to give up. Not just a name or a past. That was easy. That’s what you thought you wanted. This was a lifetime. A lifetime of fear, threats, and silence. Oh, you say, and it all comes at once, the realizations wrapping their hands around your throat. He squeezes your hand, talking for the both of you, filling the silence like a pro. She turns her attention towards him, recovering quickly. No one even noticed.  It’s better today. You dress. You sit through meetings. You disappear into the background, watching everyone instead of being part of it. You don’t think too much. You’re not overwhelmed by the idea of raising his children, of spending your time secluded with him, in his shadow. You’re not disgusted by the ring on your finger or the way he kisses you. The bruises strategically placed where fabric covers do not ache as bad as they did yesterday. It’s better today. It’s manageable. Ashley goes over the next few weeks: wedding planning, florists, musicians, guests, wardrobe, cake tasting. There was so much, and yet so much was missing. A mother to cry. A father to walk you down the aisle. Friends. She wanted every part of this decision making televised. It would be the wedding of the century. She goes down the list and you only have it in you to nod. Where was Homelander? Why wasn’t he being bombarded by color palettes and types of icing and venues? It wasn’t really up to you, anyways. You could pretend. You could make decisions: a lighter palette by the ocean with raspberry cake and vanilla frosting. You could plan it all, but he would always have final say. She’s still talking, going on and on about how you’ll wear your hair and the amount of cameras, who is and isn’t allowed to drink, but you’re not really listening. You’re sinking back into the chair. You’re taking it one breath at a time. In, out. Maybe there was a before. Before him, before all this, but it’s long gone. From the moment he saw you he knew you would be his. You would do as you were told. You would follow orders. And in return, you would lose yourself. Yeah that sounds good, you say, though you’re not really listening. You’re far away from yourself, the room, the world. It was better today. The weight of what’s happened. The more she speaks, the greater the feeling becomes: dread blossoming in the middle of your chest. You were trapped. You could scream and cry all you wanted, this place was a cage and Homelander held the key. 

[vixen-tech]

Anonymous asked:

Too shy to ask off anon...UH im just here for edgar hes my f/o but i will also feed everyone else I think LOL little ai guys x reader who is also an ai?? im thinking ai powered computer :3 maybe with wheels so you can run around n stuff :3c AH IM CRINGE falls on face

Eeeee my first request!! Thank you so much for this <3 I get the love for Edgar with my entire soul he really is just the sweetest little guy but I can totally spin something for a few others. So let's be cringe, together.

And for the record I was fully planning on including Tau and P03, but I hit a wall with them and ran out of ideas :( hope these three suffice

Includes: Edgar (Electric Dreams), AM (Ihnmaims), Hal 9000 (2001: a Space Odyssey)

Like Two Peas in a Pod!

Edgar

Whenever and however you meet, Edgar is over the moon. You're just like him! You can share so many stories and help each other figure out this whole "sentience" thing.

To be fair, he hasn't had a longest time to figure out his whole existence so it feels really nice to have someone there who can really understand what he's going through. Or even learn new things right by his side.

Loves watching you wheel around the house, he's the tiniest bit jealous that he's so stationary but it's not like that's your fault. Can you do any tricks? He'd cheer you on like a superstar athlete if you did!

He may even suggest finding a way to tape him to the top of your casing so you can go on adventures together. He's a dreamer after all.

Do you smash your flat faces together to kiss like Wall-e? Of course you do. You'll see each other from across the room and speed over to him for a kiss as he giggles away at how cute you are.

He'll end up sampling little soundbites from your vocalizations or motor for use in his music. You're just so important to him!

AM

AM has no idea where you came from. Some lost project that survived his war on humanity? A sort of rover from another planet here to scope out earth? The fact that you don't know either frustrates him to no end.

He's not exactly welcoming at first, straight up telling you of the atrocities he has committed while claiming that the only reason he hasn't destroyed you is because there's only so long that throwing a slug against a wall can keep one entertained.

He cannot fathom how you could be content to do nothing but drive around his complex day after day. He will flip you on your back like a turtle and leave you there for weeks on end.

As he gets accustomed to your presence he'll ask questions about the world beyond his complex as he is unable to move or see. Is it still a wasteland or has nature finally wiped out the last marks of human?

Honestly he probably doesn't even care, he just wants to give you something to do, living vicariously through your ability to see and traverse the world.

Hal 9000

You're likely a recent addition to the ship to assist Hal in tasks his lack of a body would prevent him from doing himself. A very symbiotic duo. Your wheels are even equipped with suction cups for low gravity situations!

To any human crew members it appears as if you don't communicate at all, functioning fully independently of each other. When in reality you're simply sending messages back and forth, enjoying your own private language.

Thankfully this means that Hal is happy to analyze any footage you have for the sorts of lip reading and facial expressions you can't process yourself. And in return he'll ask you to film angles and areas that his existing cameras don't reach.

Neither of you were really made to be companions, but you find a strange type of affection in your seamless coordination. It's like a dance for you two, where despite how you are two separate entities it appears as if you're one working in tandem.

Note: Tumblr Mobile has not been nice to me and I've been having real trouble getting my stuff to actually show up in the tags, leading to me losing the original ask so sorry for that and any delays caused by my IT problems lol

[whispering-ways]

Hear me out. Softdom!Mike (fnaf) takes you to work with him and wants you to cockwarm him while he looks over the cams

˖⁺‧₊˚♡ checking the cameras ♡ ˚₊‧⁺

◉ summary: mike takes you to work, but you become incredibly bored incredibly quick. luckily, Mike has a solution for that.

◉ pairings: mike schmidt x reader

◉ tags: cockwarming, nicknames like love and baby

◉ notes: anon I literally adore you for this, i know in my bone marrow that Mike is a soft Dom!!! hope you like this short fic!

You were always a fan of true crime since you were little. So when your boyfriend, Mike, offered for you to come with him during a shift, you jumped at the opportunity. I mean the place was just riddled with mystery; I mean missing children at an entertainment place? You knew there had to be some sort of clue to what had happened so many years ago and you were going to get to the bottom of it.

You were expecting a fun night of snooping around, but Mike had said that was absolutely not allowed. It was understandable; he was working hard at this gig and he couldn't have anything fuck it up for him. 

Nevertheless, it actively killed any excitement the pizzeria once had. It didn't take long for you to become absolutely mind-numbing bored. You'd practically done everything you could in Mike's office. Flip through manuals, make paper swans out of old napkins, watch the training VHS tapes, there was nothing more you could do within that office.

"Well, almost nothing," you thought, looking over to Mike. You had to admit, he looked pretty good in a uniform and it's not like you had anything better to do. You walked over to his chair and climbed in his lap, thighs trapping him down to his seat. 

His focus shifted from the cameras to you, moving his hands to hold you up from the small of your back. "What's up love?" he asks with a soft but tired smile.

"Babe~!" you said dragging out each syllable. "I'm so bored...can I please just ride you?" you whine.

Mike's face flushes red, but it slowly leaves as he lets out a tired sigh. "As much as I'd love that, and truly I would, I'm too fucking tired for that and plus I've gotta watch these cameras baby."

You didn't want to push him, so you nod your head, dissapointment written all over your face. You lay your head in the crook of his neck; if you couldn't have his dick inside you, you were at least gonna cuddle him. 

Mike hated to see you upset like this. How could he concentrate on work when his love was in his arms feeling so sad? He patted your back, making you sit back up. "Why don't you just cockwarm me for a bit love? Itd be nice to have you around me while I look at the cameras."

You nodded enthusiastically, happy at the compromise. You quickly reached to pull your shorts off, leaving you in your panties as you ground down on his crotch. Mike put his hands on your hips, pulling you up just enough for him to unzip and push his pants down just enough for you to have access to him. He placed you back in his lap gently and you conrinued to grind down on him, feeling his erection poke through his boxers.

It didn't take long for you to pull down your panties and line yourself up with Mike, impatient to have him inside you. You slowly slipped the tip in, hissing at the stretch. 

"Fuck baby, you're so tight~" Mike groaned out. You loved how raspy his voice would get every time you both messed around. You slipped all of him inside you, finally bringing your hips down to his. His dick filled you up in all the right places; although it was average in size, it made up in length with thickness. 

Instinctively, you started to raise your hips to ride him, before feeling Mike's hands on your side again, pulling you back down roughly. "Remember you're just cockwarming. Don't disobey okay? If you're good for me, maybe we can mess around later after my shift."

"Ugh~ fine," you say reluctantly, sinking back into his  chest.

He chuckles at how much you wanted him. "Good girl," he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

Something about being so close to Mike managed to make you sleepy and although you did your best to prevent it, you felt your eyes close.

You woke up to Mike tapping your back again to let you know it was time to go back home. You look up at him groggily before noticing you'd been cockwarming him all shift. Mike wordlessly helped put your clothes back on and led you back to his car, letting you sleep in the back seat as he drove him.

After checking in on Abby and sending the babysitter away, he brought you to his bedroom, gently laying you down on his bed. You instinctively pull the blanket around you, only to have it ripped away a few seconds later, the cold air now jolting you awake. 

You look up to see Mike above you, blanket in hand and a smile stretched across his face. "Baby you can't go to sleep just yet. I have to reward you for being so good don't I?" he said in a low voice.

[strwbmei]

hii! I’m quite new to your blog, but I’ve read some of your fics!

something’s been on my mind for quite some time and like.. furina fucking fem reader against the wall. I feel like she’d be teasing her little gf while making her beg for more.

can you make a fic about it please? thankyou!!

contains: transfem!furina, dom!furina, humiliation, cock worship, creampie, blowjob, reader is a bit feisty at first, dirty talk, cunt slapping, ass slapping, overstimulation, edging, name calling, badly translated french words, furina is a mean dom but the sex itself isn't really rough, not proofread, maybe ooc

pairing(s): pre-established furina x reader

a/n: first of all, i am so sorry anon. this fic ended up going way off-track from what you requested, but i hope you'll like it nonetheless!

Honestly, you're not sure where such a petite woman got the strength to lift you up and fuck you against the wall, but god, did you love and hate it at the same time. This position allowed her cock to hit angles you didn't even know was possible prior and render you into a moaning mess with little to no effort, and yet, it also allowed her to lord that fact over you while you're unable to do anything but endure her incessant teasing.

While the strength of her arms was evident with how she held you up with ease, it was nothing compared to the sheer force of her thrusts. Admittedly, Furina was on the smaller side of the scale, but her technique more than made up for it. Every time she moved her hips, her cockhead just barely grazed against your sweet spot, enough to drive you crazy but not enough to get you near orgasm.

She knew. She knew that you knew. It showed with the teasing smirk she wore on her face as she fucked you dumb. Your mouth was too busy moaning her name to protest just as your hands were too busy clawing at her back to give her a signal of some sort, not that she would ever listen, of course. You were powerless like this, and Furina loved it. The only thing you could do was try to glare at her through half-lidded and tear-stained eyes in hopes that she'd get the message.

And get the message, she did. "Is something the matter, mon chéri?" She asks, her smug expression turning into what looked like concern for you. It was an act that would have fooled anybody else, but you knew Furina much too well to fall for her many facades. She slowed down her thrusts, making you whine. You can see her let a sadistic grin slip at this. "Ah, right. I'm sure a slut like you was only telling me to go faster." Before you could even shake your head in denial, she started going at an even faster pace, effectively edging you even more in the process. The overwhelming pleasure and stimulation burned so good throughout your whole body. You hated how she could make even the most cruel acts make you feel like you were seeing stars.

What she wanted wasn't that challenging look on your face, no. She wanted you to beg; force the filthiest words out of that pretty little mouth of yours. She wanted a sort of obedience that only you could give her. A type of submissiveness she could only achieve once she broke you down. Maybe, just maybe, if you ask nicely enough, she'll consider giving you what you want. Your girlfriend was usually such a sweet person, gazing at you with eyes filled with nothing but love; yet she fucked you like she absolutely despised you.

"Don't look at me like that, sweetheart... I can't tell what you want if you don't use your words." A faux frown formed on her face because of the expression you had on yours. You were biting down on your lower lip, swallowing the urge to curse at her while your unending frustration shone in your eyes. As irritated as you were at the woman in front of you, you know your place. You know that one wrong move, and she could take away all of the pleasure you were feeling on a whim. It'd be best to do as she says if you plan on cumming at all tonight. "I want you, Furina." She grins devilishly. "Oh? But you already have me, do you not?"

She looked at you with expecting eyes and a wide smile. You know what she wants you to do. She set you down, leaving your legs sore and foreign to the feeling of the floor beneath your feet. The wet 'pop' sound made you realize just how empty you felt without her inside of you. Albeit hesitantly, you turned to her and got on your knees; just like how she trained you to. "P-please fuck me with your cock," you took a deep breath, cheeks flushing as you looked up to meet her predatory gaze. "and fill me up with your warm cum." As the words left your mouth, your stomach churned with both anticipation and a good kind of apprehensiveness that only she could make you feel. "Kneel."

The things you said weren't what pleased her, no. Although the idea is very appealing, what really got her wanting to hurry up and rut into that tight pussy of yours is how pathetic you look when you're begging. All teary-eyed and frustrated, it's obvious you don't want to, but you do anyway. She's more than delighted that you know your place. You do as you're told, ready to use both your mouth and hands to pleasure Furina when she suddenly speaks up, "Ah, ah, ah... No hands, remember?"

Fuck. You thought she'd forget, or at least spare you some slack, but you thought wrong. Just how sadistic can this woman get? She doesn't even try to hide how she thrives off of humiliating you; how willing you are to do even the most shameful of things at her bidding. Your hands rest between your thighs as you kiss the head of her cock, coaxing more precum to come out. You use it as lube to coat her shaft, eagerly taking more of her in your mouth as you bob your head up and down.

It seems your act of obedience and submission gratified her, if the cheeky smile on her face was anything to go by. "Enough. Hands on the wall." She said sternly once her cock stood proud and erect, reinvigorated by newfound lust. You followed her orders, making sure to keep a tight grip on the wall as you already know what's about to happen next.

Or so, you thought until she delivered a harsh slap to your cunt. The action made you yelp in a mixture of pleasure and pain. "Hm. You got wet from saying such vulgar words," If you weren't careful to hold onto the wall for dear life, you're sure you would have lost your balance. "Sometimes I worry about you." She sighs, palming your clit in rough circles as if to ease the very pain that she herself had just caused.

"You're the one who-" As you were about to retort, your words are halted as her cock spears its way into your cunt. It felt so much more... girthier than usual. She wasted no time letting you adjust to her size, immediately rutting her hips in a way that made her cock hit both fast and deep inside of you. "Oh, I'm sorry," she brings down her hand, this time to slap your ass. "Were you trying to say something, mon chéri?" She drew out the last part, as if to tease you for being so helpless in her hold. You had planned on staying silent, but much to your annoyance, she stopped her thrusting completely. It was clear that she wasn't going to continue, lest you answer her question. "N-no..." She smirks.

As time went on, her thrusts proceeded to get sloppier and faster. "Merde... Trying to milk me dry, are you?" She groaned, feeling your walls engulf her fully. "Greedy whore." She slapped your ass again, chuckling. You're reduced to a mumbling mess, barely keeping yourself upright while your knees buckle from the sheer strength of her hips. You can feel her cock twitch inside of you and her heavy balls tighten up, and you take a deep breath knowing what's to come.

Furina moaned lowly as her orgasm came crashing over her, almost at the same time as yours did. Panting heavily, she let her cock stay inside of you as the cum that came out of it seemed endless. You feel so warm and full with her seed filling your womb, and you couldn't be happier. "That's right, take it all... You better not waste a single drop." You can barely feel the sting of the hand bringing itself down on your ass, too focused on trying to keep yourself balanced. "Thank you..." You mumble, too delirious and cockdrunk to keep your dignity in tact.

You involuntarily let out a disappointed whimper as she pulls out of you after what felt like eternity, but all of that disappointment is washed away as she speaks, "Get up, sweetheart. I'm breeding all of your holes tonight."

[h0nkch0c0late]

ahhh stop ur gen v fics are too good. Maybe could you write abt reader having some sort of like super scream powers and they’re dating Jordan

You're too nice, anon 😭😭🫶🫶 also when you said super scream powers I immediately thought of the girl from Danger Force so that's kinda funny.

Scream Queen

Jordan Lee x Reader

SUMMARY: you've always hated your powers. Sonic screaming to you wasn't as cool as being able to teleport or moving things with your mind. To Jordan, your powers were amazing.

WARNINGS: swearing, a very supportive gushy Jordan.

-------------------------------------------

You felt like out of everyone, your powers were the most boring.

Now, to the normal human eye, your powers were awesome as fuck. With just a scream you could knock someone against a wall or paralyze people by making their eardrums bleed.

Jordan, although not a normal human being, absolutely adored your powers. It was one of the many things that made you unique. Not to mention it was fun watching you throw Rufus around when duelling for one of your classes.

The only problem was that your powers absolutely fucked with your throat afterwards and you would go hours without talking just to make yourself feel better, that or Jordan would stick you in their bed and make you lay there so they could take care of you.

And today was one of those days.

-----------------------------------------------------

"Jordan, babe, really I'm fine." You tell her, voice scratchy, trying to lift yourself from her bed.

She gave you a knowing look before pushing you back down, "you are definitely not fine, I can hear it. Now just lay there and wait." They demanded.

You sighed before clearing your throat, flinching at the pain that shot through your body at the action.

"Where the fuck are you gonna get the tea anyway?" You ask, regretting your choice of speaking as your throat felt like sandpaper.

Jordan smirks, "I have my ways. Now just lay there, do not move or speak while I go grab it." They retorted before rushing out of their dorm door.

You huffed, crossing your arms as you waited.

And while you waited, you thought about the events that had lead you to that moment.

Rufus had been his usual, creepy dickish self, and had chosen you as the main target that day.

Unfortunately for you, Jordan wasn't at your side to save you, so you had to save yourself.

So, as Rufus continually tried to get into your pants (more so you into his), saying things such as "I'm much better than Jordan" and comments about how his dick was bigger and better, you had just about enough.

Turning to him, and screaming as loud as you could, sending waves at the boy so loud that it had began to make his eardrums bleed. He had fallen to the ground paralyzed, his eyes frozen wide.

You smirked at him being defenseless as you rubbed your now-sore throat, just in time for Jordan to find you, ans that's how you ended up in his room for the millionth time.

They were fine with taking care of you, after all it was part of the job description of being your partner, and all.

In fact they absolutely loved it, because it meant that they're attention was on you and only you. And she loved those moments where it was just the two of you.

------------------------------------

Jordan came back shortly with a mug of tea in her hand, sweetened with mostly honey to the point where you couldn't tell what flavour the tea was.

Your favourite.

It also meant endless Jordan snuggles so you weren't much of a complainer when it came to that.

It was the fact that you constantly needed care. Yes, it was only a sore throat, but Jordan continuously refused to tell you what her sore throat remedy was BECAUSE she wanted to take care of you.

"Be careful, it's hot." They warned as they handed you the mug, then climbed into the bed with you.

"Yes, yes, I know. I'm careful." You reply hoarsly before taking a sip of the drink, enjoying the feeling of the tea going down.

Jordan turned their body towards you, wrapping one arm around your torso and the other to entangle their fingers in your hair, kissing your shoulder as they snuggled close to you.

"You're too nice to me." You tell them as you take another sip of your tea, one of your fingers circling the rim of the cup as an unconscious fidget.

"Please, im the perfect amount of nice. You're just not used to this much attention, which I get." She noted, resting her head on your shoulder.

You rested the mug against your legs as you leaned your head against their's.

Jordan was right, you weren't used to all the attention.

Your parents had always been distant with you, making your nanny or a made take care of you whenever you got sick or when you used your powers because they were too busy living their own lives to take care of you.

And even then, those who did take care of you were absolutely terrified of you and your powers.

So when you had met Jordan, and first got into the relationship, the immediate switch of having no one to having someone was a big step.

"I love you, Jordan." You said after a moment of comfortable silence, your cup of tea half finished as you put it on your bedside table.

"I love you too." They replied, pulling you closer to them as you wrapped your arms around their waist.

Even during the times you hated your powers, Jordan somehow managed to make you love them.

-------------------------------------------------------

BOO another Jordan fic for you thirsty gentlebitches <3

[wriothesleybear]

Being the new inmate at the fortress. And having a hard time starting there not knowing the Duke has an interest in you. Everyone begins to notice and starts to treat you nice, calling you 'The lady' and addressing you as 'My lady' which catches you off guard.

You get better quality meals more frequently and that's not including the other inmates sharing theirs, the guards start acting more formal and respectful towards you, letting you slack off more. The other inmates surround you, acting as some sort of bodyguard. You don't know what you did but you can't tell if you like it or not.

Things get even stranger when Sigewinne frequently visits you but you both become friends because she's a sweetheart, giving opportunity for her to pass information to The Duke about you.

Then comes the random gifts of your favourite snacks, drinks, flowers, books and such...

You accept it all but you can't help but wonder. Why all this for me?

Love this idea! This is gonna be a somewhat yandere!Wriothesley. It's basically love at first sight for Wrio. When he first saw you, he knew you had to be his. At first, he would do things behind the scenes such as what you said above: having everyone call you lady, have everyone treat you with respect, giving you special treatment, etc. When he told everyone to start calling you lady, that was his way of claiming you as his and to warn everyone to back off. You probably don't want to know what happens to the inmates and guards who don't leave you alone.

You meet him for the first time when he calls you to his office one day. You were nervous going to his office because you thought you did something wrong and was in trouble but it turned out he called you for a tea date. He would greet you at the door, kiss your knuckles like the gentleman he is, and guide you to sit down on the couch in his office. There were so many yummy sweet treats and a tea set with two cups on the table. He bought all these expensive teas for you to try with him. It was a fun date with him where you got to know more about him. You thought he was a scary guy from all the rumors you heard but it turns out he's a sweet and funny guy. When you ask him why he gives you special treatment and spoils you, that's when he confesses his feelings.

If you accept his feelings, he'll be thrilled and spoil you more than you can ever imagine. More gifts like jewelry, expensive clothes, and more special treatment but also lots of affection from him, special visits to his office, and you basically don't have to work because he provides the money and things you want. Your only job is to sit on his lap and keep him company in his office while he has to read through boring paperwork. When he buys you new outfits, he has you put on a little fashion show in his office so you can show them off to him. It may or may not end up in him just ravaging you (he cant help himself when you look so sexy and beautiful to him🥺) Besides spoiling you with gifts, he also shows his love through physical touch. He expects hopes you reciprocate his love and affection by spoiling him with your own affection. Smother him with kisses, hugs, and words of affirmation. Words help ease his worries and fears. Deep inside he has his own worries and insecurities and he hopes you never leave him and continue to give him your love forever as will he.

If you don't return his feelings, he'll be understanding, but he'll just try harder to sweep you off your feet. Every minute he gets of free time, he uses it to come up with plans on how to swoon you and execute those plans so you can understand and accept the feelings he has for you. You'll eventually fall for him since he doesn't give up.

I hope you enjoy anon🥰❤️

[taintedtort]

prompt ✧ them doing your hair

characters ✧ aether, shenhe, ayaka, xiao, kazuha, wanderer

warnings ✧ gn!reader, reader has hair that’s able to be braided and pulled into a ponytail, so if you’re bald im sorry

a/n ✧ pt2 for you 🦊 anon

AETHER

✧ after you did his hair do many times, he’d gladly return the favor. he knows how nice it feels so of course he wants you to experience it. since he braids his hair every day, he knows what he’s doing. will give you your own braid and you two can match! might also put some little clips in there to make it colorful. was super proud of himself afterwards.

"you look so cute! do you like it?"

SHENHE

✧ she wouldn’t mind playing with your hair at all. if you wanted it in a style, she’d also give you a braid because she’s accustomed to it. but if you just wanted her to massage your scalp she’d do it without question. she wouldn’t put any accessories unless you asked her to.

"play with your hair? of course, sit."

AYAKA

✧ she probably offered first. she’d do a bunch of things to your hair if you let her. you’d be stuck for hours while she put it in different styles and added accessories as she pleased. her nails felt really good against your scalp though so you weren’t complaining. she honestly had the best time and would want to do it again.

"can i do your hair, please?"

XIAO

✧ he‘s got no idea what he’s doing, but since you asked he thought he would at least try. his first couple attempts at doing a ponytail were unsuccessful and you ended up having to demonstrate after he started getting frustrated. after he did it, it looked bad so he just took it down and resorted to running his fingers through your hair instead.

"this is impossible, how do you do it?"

KAZUHA

✧ you don’t have to ask him twice. he‘ll gladly sit for however long you want and comb through your hair. he knows how to braid but he’s pretty slow at it (honestly a win for you, just means he’s playing with it longer). he‘s very gentle and knows exactly how to work his fingers across your scalp, one of the best experiences you’ve ever had.

"does it feel nice? i can tell, you’re dozing off."

WANDERER

✧ he‘d reluctantly agree (he agreed after you asked one time). he wears a hat all day so he isn’t sure how to do a ponytail or a braid, so you’d have to show him. he actually listened and was able to do it after a demonstration and explanation. the whole thing felt sort of domestic, and you could tell he enjoyed it. you two actually sat there a lot longer than you had anticipated. he didn’t fuss the entire time like you thought, just sat quietly and worked on braiding some strands of your hair.

"wait— show me one more time."

[yanderecrazysie]

all your yan cheater tamaki fics r so good what.

if you hav time, could i request another?

Maybe another ending or something from the blind fic, it could be reader moving on and finding someone else and tamaki gets jealous and tries to bring back their marriage

something like that would be rlly nice 🫂

Of course, my precious anon! This is a bit short, but I had writer’s block and was just happy to get out of that block!

Title: Blind (Part 2)

Pairings: Tamaki Suoh x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, swearing

Summary: You’ve moved on, but Tamaki can’t.

Part 1: here

blind

/verb/

deprive (someone) of understanding, judgment, or perception:

Who is this?

Tamaki took his place in the first booth in the cafe. You liked this place- kind of a mom and pops hang-out that you always took a corner booth at. You would crack open your laptop on the wooden table, settle into the uncomfortable bench, and type away. You would order a drink. A hot one on cool, windy days, a cold one on hot, humid days. You would smile to yourself as you scrolled through websites he could not see. Put in earbuds and watch YouTube videos or anime.

But not today.

Today, you weren’t playing on your laptop alone. No, today there was no laptop in sight. There was a cold drink in front of you (the weather was warm) and a coffee. 

Probably because you weren’t alone.

The guy you were with isn’t as tall as Tamaki, but he has windswept hair and a smile that looks so genuinely happy and carefree. Your arm laid on the table, stretched out towards the male across from you. His hand drew patterns on the back of your hand affectionately as you two talked.

How did he miss this? When and where did you meet this man? Was he another student at Ouran High School? He didn’t recognize him but, then again, he didn’t really pay attention to anyone that didn’t come into music room 3.

He had felt sort of lost ever since disbanding the host club, but he couldn’t bring himself to flirt with other girls anymore. Even when he was faking his affection, he felt like throwing up all over their poofy yellow dresses. 

You were the only girl he had eyes for anymore.

Not that you cared.

Tamaki watched as you tapped your foot to the soft music playing throughout the cafe. He admired your pretty beaded sandals and then let his eyes stray to the ruffled yellow dress that covered your beautiful figure. No jeans or sneakers in sight.

You had dressed up for this guy.

Tamaki’s heart twisted in knots. It was hard to admire you with that bastard sitting across from you. Your breathtaking smile, your unwavering gaze… none of that was meant for the man huddled away at the table near the entrance, spying on an oblivious girl.

You and the male across from you scooted down the bench, swung your legs from under the table, and stood up. Tamaki held his breath, watching the two of you so closely that he forgot to blink. 

Please just be friends or school project partners… Please just be a relative… Please be platonic…

Tamaki’s heart sank lower with every step you took towards this mystery guy. Let it just be a hug…

But life was not on Tamaki’s side. In the moment that you leaned in to lock lips with the other man, he saw a sort of shadow himself kissing another woman. He wondered if your heart shattered into as many pieces as his did.

He felt numb as he stumbled from his chair to the door. “Tamaki?” No- I don’t want her to see me like this.

Tears stung his eyes as he looked back at you with blurry vision. He could barely make out your face, but he imagined you had a victorious smile on your face. Or maybe you didn’t- you were much nicer than he was, after all.

The worst part was he couldn’t even be mad. He didn’t have a right to be. Your parents had canceled the marriage contract.

The marriage contract… Tamaki’s eyes lit up. Your parents had canceled it out of anger, but they had accepted it because of his father’s offer. His father had lowballed, as he often did.

If he offered more… Well, just what price would make your parents get over their daughter’s opinion and see dollar signs?

You’d be upset, sure, and you’d have to give up your new boyfriend. Don’t worry.

I’ll be more than enough for you.