#when Bob said it’s not a life anyone would want but it’s right and it’s kind of peaceful I genuinely thought he’d be living in Kim’s

[thealogie]

yeah ok reading Bob’s explanation of the ending like “he’s got the peace and love for the rest of his life” they literally do think they created the bittersweet ending I was hoping for where it’s not actually happy but at least there’s hope of contact between them. like prison is literally torture in this country you don’t get peace or love but they don’t know that so they think they did the bittersweet ending

[thestarsarebrightertonight]

i can fix him (no really i can) // mattheo riddle x fem reader

playlist : i can fix him (no really i can) - taylor swift

summary : mattheo riddle is cold as ice , he always has been , so who are you to think you can fix him?

gryffindor reader , friends with golden trio , makes a bet , fluff , harry x reader platonic , swearing , honestly cringe but wtv

masterlist tppd series masterlist another mattheo fic!

you sat in the great hall staring ahead of you at a certain brown haired boy , eating his food silently surrounded by his chatty friends he didnt seem to pay any mind to. mattheo riddle. he had always intriuged you , you werent sure your curiousity was requited but you knew you liked him. a lot.

"you best not be looking at him again y/n" hermione sighed , sat opposite to you and in front of the slytherin table.

"hermione , ive liked him since first year are we still seriously asking this question every day." you pulled your eyes away from him , and looked at the girl with a teasing smile , knowing you were guilty of staring.

"gosh you really need to get over it , i mean what about dean he seems to really like you?" you both turned your heads to look at hermiones suggested replacement for mattheo , who was currently trying to turn his pumkin juice into water just with his eyes.

you scoffed and turned back to hermione , who looked defeated , "im sure the conversation would be great."

hermione ingorned your sarcasm and continued to argue , "mattheo isnt a good guy we both know this,"

"i can fix him," you winked at her teasingly as she scoffed , containing a laugh.

"arent you just our brave little bob the builder," harry joked , you and hermione being completely startled by his and rons prescence next to you both , eventhough theyd been there the whole time.

you laughed at him , attempting to defend your claim, "no really i can! ill fix him so hard that he gets mistaken for golden boy cedric!"

"this is starting to sound oddly sexua-" ron stated blandly before hermione slapped his arm , making him stop talking abruptly and clutch it.

"i dont believe you," hermione stated simply as you smirked at her.

"end of the week and he'll like me back or atleast talk to me," you stuck your hand out as she hesitated before shaking it muttering a disapproving , 'deal'.

looking at her smugly you let your eyes quickly wander to mattheo , only to see him staring right at you. this caused you to gasp and turn you whole body to face harry next to you , who looked at you in confusion.

holding a hand to harrys ear and whispering , "is he still staring at me" timidly.

harry looked , only to see a very threatening mattheo riddle stare back at him like he started the wizarding war.

"oh merlin no not at you , hes looking at me , not in a .... very nice way," harry whispered back as you refused to turn , nervous by your crush of years staring in your direction.

grabbing harrys arm with your two hands and shaking it with a small cry of terror harry turned back to you, "hes so hot even when he looks like he wants to kill you! id let him as long as he never changed that gorgeous face"

"wow great to know you value my life," harry muttered sarcastically as you laughed at him before slowly turning bcak to face hermione , avoiding looking in mattheos direction.

"well hermione its great to do business with you," you smiled at her as she grimaced at you.

"he is a person you know," she said sternly.

"i know , thats the problem! hes good looking hes smart AND hes a good person!" you sighed.

"well i dont know about one of those things-" ron started in disinterested grumble.

"thats why im doing this hermione! hes so perfect that a little bet is the motivation i need to actually talk to him!" you ranted to her.

she just looked back a you blankly , nodding along to what you said , too bored to argue back.

"anyways , did anyone do their herbology homework?" hermione asked all three of us.

ron let out a defeated sigh , "how many times hermione , not all of us have that little time turning watch thing , we cant do herbology because its at the same time as history of magic!"

"well , ronald , i apolagise that i forgot!...." hermiones arguing back faded into the background as your sudden realisation that you had just made an impossible bet sunk in.

no one can melt mattheo riddle , it is literally impossible.

what have you gotten yourself into.

-----

maybe it is possible! oh the Gods of luck had blessed you today.

Dumbledore just announced the triwizard tournament and from your oh so knowledgable friend hermione , you knew that a ball was involved in the triwizard tournament. maybe the fact harrys name came out the goblet wasnt so good but you had a plan! now this may seem ridiculous , the ball isnt until christmas! but...throughout the term youre doing practices , the first one on friday! two days from now!

and your great plan was to dance with mattheo in this practice, gain his interest , ask him to hogsmeade over the weekend and then BOOM , hes in love!! all by the end of the week!

as you recited your plan to your three friends they looked back at you , horrified.

"right and... you expect mattheo riddle to fall in love with you , in three days?" ron asked in pure confusion.

"well yeah thats what i just said," you said with a shrug.

"y/n you're really not that charismatic i dont think youve ever flirted with anyeone nevermind asked a boy to hogsmeade," hermione said , almost with sympathy for your pure delusion.

"you guys are cruel i think i can ..... i cant do it." you dropped your act of confidence.

your shoulder slouched as you lost all hopes of catching the boy of your dreams , the plan drifting into the forgotten corner of your mind.

the trio watched you lose all happiness and life and let out sighs , harry deciding to speak up , "y/n i think your plan could work. i mean your flirting will be ... raw and.... new". he spoke with uncertainty as he tried to speak in a way that was reassuring , eventhough he didnt believe a word he said.

"really?" you said with hope , looking up at him.

"sure!" he smiled .

"let me practice on you harry!" as you turned to him with an excited smile drowning out his words of declining your request.

you looked at him with your prettiest smile , shuffling closer than before and playing with your hair , "hey boy , want me to be your chosen one?"

you winked at him as he blushed a deep red and looked anywhere but at you.

ron laughed loudly at harrys panic , "that really made you flustered?!, fucking hell!"

ron howled with laughter as harry rubbed his neck , until you turned to ron with the same flirtatious smile , "i really like your hair , i heard gingers are rare - wanna be my one in a million?"

ron paused his laughter and looked at you with horror , "there is literally like 5 other gingers in this room right now-"

"and out of all of them , i chose you" you winked at him as he was left speechless.

"yeah shes kinda good," ron laughed.

"all i can say is good luck, " hermione stated as you smiled in victory.

meanwhile an extremely angered mattheo riddle stood up from the slytherin table and stormed out the hall , having seen your whole encouter with harry.

----

the next thing you knew , you were sat on a bench with all of your year group present , boys on one side , girls on the other. you clenched your shaking hands onto the bench on either side of you , staring directly forward and avoiding mattheo who was stood a few metres away from where you stared.

"you were so confident a few days ago why are you shaking?" hermione asked teasingly.

you snapped your head towards her with a hard glare , "im in no mood for teasing mione im gonna throw up."

she sighed , "just ask him to dance its not that bad y/n dont worry!"

"and if he says no?" you asked in panic.

"then he says no and you lose the bet , " she smiled.

"its...its not really about the bet mione i really like him , if he rejects me i dont think ill recover." you look down at your lap as your leg bounces.

"oh give over! theres about 5 people i can see right now , staring at you , itching to dance with you," she nodded her head in the direction of a group of ravenclaws staring at you as you cringed internally , "and... ha it looks like mattheos seen them too!" she teasingly whsipered in a sing-song voice.

you gave her a confused look before turning to see mattheo , who was actually throwing a deathly glare at the boys who were staring at you.

"theyre probably looking at you mione," you sulked as she went to argue back , interrupted by Mcgonagall walking into the room.

"silence!" she started as you drowned out her words for the next 5 minutes , only tuning back in when she made ron dance with her , laughing hysterically at him.

after a few minutes of rons awkward dancing she urged everyone to join in , everyone hesitated and stayed seated until - to everyones -suprise mattheo was the first person to walk forward with a confident stride to our side of the room , coming straight towards......you?!!

you made eye contact with him and held a hopeful smile until daphne stood infront of him, blocking your view of him and stopping him in his tracks . he tried to get past her until she whispered something to him , making him stop and put his hand on her waist , beginning to dance as everyone else seemed to do the same.

but you remained in your seat , motified by the sight of the boy you liked dancing with one of the prettiest girls in your year , right infront of you.

hermione rested her hand on your shoulder sympathetically before being dragged away by a guy shes friends with in ravenclaw.

you sat in silence until a hand came into your view , held out to you. following up the arm the hand was attached to you finally reached harrys smiling face.

"he sucks anyway , dance with me instead?" he smiled as you allow you sadness to fade slightly , nodding and grabbing harrys hand allowing yourself to be pulled into the middle of the floor , about two metres from where mattheo and daphne danced.

"thanks harry," you said softly as you rested your arms around his neck , his hands resting on your waist.

"no worries, theres no other girl id rather dance with in this room."

"asides from cho chang but ill let you have it because she isnt technically in the room," as you laughed at his flustered face.

"hows ron after dancing with-" you started.

"oh hes horrified , dont worry ill make sure to bring that up for the rest of his life. im sure fred and george will too when i tell them," you both laughed together , letting yourself feel the meloncholia leave.

"i-" you began before being cut off by a sudden presence stood next to you and harry.

turning to look at who had created the shadow inbetween you , you were just as horrified as ron was to see mattheo stood there looking at you.

"can we dance?" he said sternly , not sparing a single glance at harry who had let go of your waist.

"but you were dancing with daphne-"

"i just danced with her whilst draco mustered up the courage to ask her himself , she didnt want to have no one to dance with. i wanted to dance with you." he said with zero hesitation , only breaking eye contact to glance at your arms still behind harrys neck , making you drop them quickly.

"s-...sure" he didnt wait to grab your hand and bring you towards him , resting his hands on your hips and shoving harry out the way with his side.

you felt the blood rush up to your cheeks , hesitantly bringing your arms around his neck and swaying to the music with him , falling into step with everyone else.

he pulled you in closer , his expression becoming softer as harry was gone and it was just you.

"why did you want to dance with me?" you asked so softly it was almost a whisper , a low exchange between two unknowingly requited lovers.

"why wouldnt i?" he paused , a so small - it was almost not visible -smile gracing his lips , "youre interesting."

"how so?" you laughed.

he laughed too before replying , "i dont know im..drawn to you. i have been since first year , i guess i just never acted on it till now."

"why?..."

he paused , "well you like potter dont you? and i dont know if you realise this but every guy here wants to be with you , theyre just too scared and i guess i was too."

you looked at him with pure confusion , "i dont not like harry , hes my best friend!"

he laughed , "well considering you left him to dance with me i think i know that now."

you smiled up at him , admiring every feature you hadnt seen before from your distant pining. from his deep brown eyes to how perfect his curls layed on his head , the small scar across his eyebrow and the so faint freckles that you can only see them at this close proximity.

"i think youre interesting too," he smiled at your words as you left the first sign of your requited feelings , "i dont know you well but ive always liked you. at first it was just because youre hot - but now its much more! youre cold to everyone but i can tell youre probably really nice, and youre so passionate during quidditch matches , and youre so smart which is really suprising considering you only show up to the lessons we share- oh. oh!" you rambled as you realised how obvious his signs were this whole time.

he laughed at you a very light pink painting itself across his cheeks , "yeah , oh."

you looked down sheepishly until his soft voice caught your attention again, "well i guess a trip to hogsmeade has been due for quite a while then?"

you grinned at him nodding your head in excitement , "definetly!"

as you and mattheo continued to sway and talk about everything you could think of - harry , ron and hermione stood in the corner of the room.

"fuck off she actually did it!!" ron said in pure suprise.

"ive never seen mattheo riddle smile before," harry commented before turning to a happy hermione , "you owe her five chocolate bars."

[withahappyrefrain]

Ruin the Friendship- Bob Floyd

Warnings: Best friends to lovers trope, it’s so obvious they love each other they’re stupid, language, filth, some angst (why not?), unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), Bob being pussy drunk.

Summary: The night before Bob leaves for Boot Camp, he's learned no one has gone down on his best friend. He's determined to fix that.

Words: 4.8K

This is for @attapullman's Bob Fucks celebration!

When you've been friends with someone since preschool, you get to know them like the back of your hand. Certain quirks and sayings that no longer surprise you. 

“God, I wish that were me.”

It wasn't the first time Bob heard you say that. Usually there was a cute dog around, or a sushi boat being delivered at a restaurant when you said it. 

But saying it during an oral sex scene in a movie was new. 

It also brought up many questions. 

Questions Bob shouldn't ask, considering he's known you since preschool. Questions Bob couldn't ask right now, because he was too preoccupied looking at you. 

Your eyes were fixated on the screen, focused on the actress withering. Occasionally, they would dart to the other actor who was between the actress’ thighs. Bob noticed the increased rise and fall of your chest, how your front teeth dug into your bottom lip, how when you lean forward, the v-line cut of your shirt showed off the tops of your breasts. The soft glow of the lamps highlighted the beautiful features on your face. 

All things he shouldn’t be noticing about his best friend. But then again, best friends shouldn’t be watching a French film together whose plot line focused on sexual liberation before he went off to Navy boot camp. 

Granted, you and Bob haven’t had a conventional best friend relationship in a while, if at all, considering both sets of parents claimed you two promised to marry each other at the age of four. 

Promises or not, best friends shouldn’t be one another’s first kiss. Or make out practice partners. Or each other’s New Year's kiss when y'all were single. Or spend Valentine's Day together at the local dinner. 

The line between friends and something more was blurry, saved by a comment that ensured the other to think that the feelings that had been brewing weren't reciprocated. 

“You’re a good kisser. Kelsey McCoy is going to think so too.”

“If Tommy Delaine doesn't like you, he's a dumbass.” 

“I’m sure next year you’ll have someone.”

“If I had to spend it with anyone, I want it to be with my best friend.”

“You’re an amazing friend, you know that?”

Why say that if you harbor romantic feelings? Surely, all those kisses and talk of marriage meant nothing to them. 

At least that's what the other thought. 

It's because of this blurry line that Bob doesn't bite his tongue, doesn't throw away the comment to be forgotten. Instead, he speaks up. 

“Been awhile?” 

And because it's Bob, the guy you've known your whole life, the guy you tell everything to, your response rolls off your tongue without a second thought. 

“Try never.” 

It takes Bob a moment to process your words as the way your lips wrap around the beer bottle is far too distracting. But just like processing a car accident, once it registers, your words bring his brain to a screeching halt. 

“Wait, never?” The shrug you give isn’t satisfactory. He grabs the remote to pause the movie, ignoring your cries of protest. 

“Real talk; are you saying that no one has ever gone down on you?” 

You sigh, regretting saying anything in the first place. One would think that after years of friendship, you’d know well enough that once Bob set his mind to something, he wouldn't relent until satisfied. 

You down the remnants of your beer, mentally preparing for this conversation. 

“No Robby. I've never had someone eat me out. Happy now?” Reaching for the remote was all in vain, as he just held it further away from you. 

Darn those long limbs. 

“But you've been with people…..so what did they do?” When you looked at him, there was no malice, just Bob looking genuinely baffled. His gentle blue eyes put you at ease, giving you the comfort to explain. 

“They would touch me,” you motioned to the lower half of your body, “And like finger me. Enough to get me ready, I guess.” 

Bob raised an eyebrow, “You guess?” 

College was supposed to be a time for you to explore, to figure yourself out, to interact with new people. 

And yet, when it came to the relationship aspect, everything had fizzled. You were now going into your junior year having yet to experience a meaningful romantic relationship. 

Did you just have shit luck? Or was it because your mind would wander back to a bespectacled best friend when you were in bed with someone else? 

“So instead of eating you out, which would actually be enjoyable on your end, you're telling me they just stuck their hand down there and hoped they were rubbing your clit? You didn't ever ask them to do something else?” 

Bob didn't have the pristine mouth that parents thought he possessed. You knew, and had known for a while. And yet, hearing him say the phrase your clit in his deep, slightly twangy voice felt different. 

You rubbed your thighs together. 

“Are you shaming the people I've been with or me?” 

Bob closed the difference between you and him on the couch, placing a hand on your bare knee. 

Have his hands always been so big and veiny? 

Fuck, did you have a thing for hands? 

“I'm not shaming you. I’m shaming the people you've been with because well,” he ran a hand up and down the back of his neck, “Well, I enjoy giving….I like doing it. So I guess I'm surprised other people don't?” 

His statement was shocking because everyone else you had been with viewed it as a chore, as something to use every excuse in the book to avoid doing. 

Too tired. Takes too long. Wet enough so what's the point? 

“You…like doing it?” 

The tops of his cheeks reddened, despite a smirk beginning to form, “Yeah. I like giving and I like making them feel good. It's also a confidence booster, being able to make someone fall apart with your mouth.” 

It shouldn't come as a surprise, it was Bob after all. The same Bob who always brought an extra pencil with him to algebra, in case you forgot yours. The same Bob who shared his Dunkaroos because your mom refused to buy them. The same Bob who made his dream of serving his country finally come true after years of hard work. 

He was selfless. But this didn't feel like selflessness. Hearing him talk about giving pleasure, making someone fall apart with his mouth, was different. Even his voice when he said it was different, raspier than usual. 

“Well,” you scooted closer to the edge of the couch, trying to widen the gap so he couldn't feel how hot your body was, “I can't wait ‘til I meet someone who feels the same way.” 

“You don't have to wait.” 

The grip on your beer bottle tightened, the alcohol getting caught in your throat. There's no way he could have just said that, no way he could be implying what you're thinking. 

But when you look at Bob, he was staring back with raised eyebrows and thin lips curled into a little smirk. The same look he’s given you countless times before when he mumbles a smartass comment only your ears were privy to hear. 

You heard me. 

“What-are you…” You stared at him, mouth agape. Bob appeared unphase by it, like he had just offered something totally normal and rational. 

Perhaps it was the three beers he had downed. Perhaps it was the rush of adrenaline kicking in after realizing this was his last chance at making a move before he left. 

“Wouldn't that be like crossing a line?” Your head was racing, alternating between flashbacks of when you kissed Bob and imagining what it would be like to have his mouth on your body. 

“Wouldn't be much different from what we’ve already done.” 

All the air was sucked out of the room by his comment. Because of course he wasn't doing this because he wanted to, because he wanted you. This would be meaningless, just like everything else. If you went through with this, you’d wake up the next day to Bob leaving with nothing changed, still in this seemingly endless limbo. 

Long, nimble fingers hooked themselves under your chin, gently forcing you to look up. 

The look he gave you was unfamiliar. His eyes remained focused on your face, though it seemed like they were searching. 

For what, you couldn't tell. 

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Do you want it to be different?” 

What good was telling him if he didn’t feel the same way, thus ruining a great friendship?

“Do you want it to be different Robby?” You countered back. 

He leaned in, his breath hot on your face, “I asked you first.”

He thought he had the upper hand. But you were like a lightning bug, faster.  

“I asked you second, Robby.”

Like a rubber band, the tension snapped as Bob was unable to hold back a snort of laughter. The tension left your shoulders, the sight of him laughing familiar and safe. 

“I’m going to really miss your resounding maturity,” Bob deadpanned after gaining the ability to compose himself, though a sweet crooked smile remained. 

It was now your turn to roll your eyes, though it didn’t stop the smile currently forming on your face. Seeing this side of Bob was always fun; most folks thought he was quiet and meek. The truth was that he liked to observe and didn’t find value in speaking when it wasn’t necessary. He didn’t hold back with you, didn’t feel the need to sit and observe. He truly conversed with you and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel special. 

He was never that way with the other girls he dated. 

“You love me,” you teased back. It was a comment you've said countless times, always with that sweet, albeit mischievous smile that made Bob's heart flutter. 

But this time instead of shaking his head or rolling his eyes, he leaned forward until your foreheads were touching. 

Seeing him up close took your breath away. You could see how his roots were beginning to darken, the blonde fading as he got older. The little scar on his chin from a BB Gun incident when he was ten. Eyes bluer than the ocean. The ends of his hair were beginning to curl, something you'd greatly miss when he'd get the military mandated buzz cut. 

“Yeah, I do.” There was no teasing in his voice. No mischief in his eyes. Instead of playfully shaking your shoulder, his hand found its way to the back of your neck, fingers cupping your warm skin. He was moving quickly, making you unable to truly process what he had just said. 

Despite it being new territory, he was handling it beautifully. You, on the other hand, were torn between wondering if your increased heart beat was medically concerning and how large Bob’s hands were. 

“You gotta….if you want to stop, tell me,” His breathing had increased, like it did when he had finished his part in the marching band. But this wasn’t marching band practice and y’all weren’t on the high school field. You were in your parents’ basement, with Bob’s lips quickly closing the gap between yours and his. 

It wasn’t your first time kissing Bob, but it might as well have been. Years of experience had given him more confidence. He knew where to put his hands now, one still on your neck to guide you, the other gripping the soft flesh of your hip. He didn’t hesitate to slide his tongue across your bottom lip, successfully driving you wild. 

When the rounded tip of his nose brushed against yours, a soft laugh escaped your lips. Bob didn’t mind, using the chance to let his tongue explore your mouth. Your body leaned towards him, hands gripping the soft fabric of his old Warped Tour T-shirt. 

“I thought you,” your words were slurred, a weak moan interrupting your speech due to his lips moving down to your neck, “Thought you were gonna eat me out.” 

Bob’s moan vibrated against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His hands traveled to your breasts, gripping them through your T-shirt. It wasn't a hard squeeze, which is what you were used to. 

It was pleasurable. Bob was pleasurable. 

“Did none of the guys you were with do foreplay?” He asked, his hands continuing their ministrations. 

“I-fuck- yes they did, it just never took this long,” you grunted against his lips. 

“God, you have terrible taste in men.”

You wanted to let Bob know that he was now included in that group. But then his fingers hooked themselves around the band of your shorts, pulling them down. Had you known what tonight would entail, you would have opted for underwear that wasn't so worn. The long hairs on his arms tickled your sensitive skin as he moved to kneel on the floor, the cool basement air making you realize just how wet you were. 

How could he do that so quickly? 

He pinned your hips against the soft couch cushions. With anyone else, you would complain with how hard he was gripping your soft skin. But with Bob, you’d love it. It meant hand-shaped bruises that would stay after he left, reminding you of tonight. 

When his sharp nose nudged your clothed slit, a loud gasp erupted from your mouth. 

Thank god your parents were on vacation. 

His tongue was so wide as it stroked the quickly dampening fabric. How was he able to find your clit so quickly? Most struggled to find it even after your panties had been taken off. 

Bob couldn’t help but chuckle upon hearing your strained whimpers. You were practically squirming, hips erratically jerking with every touch. 

“Wha-why did you stop?” You whined, looking down to find him staring up to you. 

“Are you-I just need to know, do you still want this?” God, he was so fucking considerate. In any other moment, you’d find it endearingly sweet. 

But if his tongue felt that good against your covered cunt, you were dying to feel it without the barrier. 

“Robby, I swear to god, if you don’t eat me out, I’m going upstairs and using my vibrator,” Your voice was strained, your knuckles turning white from gripping the couch cushions.  

He laughed.  Bob knew you were bluffing. He had just gotten started and you were already so wet. 

Slowly, he took his glasses off, placing them on the coffee table behind him, making a show of it. 

“Won’t need those. I’m nearsighted after all.”

“You little-” The insult remained unsaid, as Bob pushed your underwear to the side, his mouth instantly latching onto your swollen clit. 

His mouth was warm. The pressure wasn’t too much, just enough to make you wither in pleasure. It felt so good, so fucking good. When Bob looked up, he found your mouth open, despite no sounds coming out. 

Good. 

You deserved to know what it was like, to have someone care about your pleasure, to focus solely on making you feel incredible. 

God, he could feel his cock throbbed. You looked so pretty with your eyes glazed over, mouth agape as you watched him, completely enthralled. 

And he had just gotten started. 

He wanted to do more than make you come, he wanted to blow your mind. Call it selfish, but Bob wanted to ruin you for anyone else. He had always held back his tongue when it came to the people you dated, knowing sooner or later you'd realized they weren't worth your time. 

But now he had his chance and Bob sure as hell wasn't going to let it slip away. 

The loud sound of fabric ripping broke you out of the pleasure filled haze you were in. Before you could make a sound about your now ripped underwear, your knees were pinned to your chest, giving Bob complete access to your soaked core.

“So fucking sweet,” He groaned against your cunt, sending vibrations all through your body, “Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” 

“Robby.” 

To say Bob dreamed of hearing you moan his name would be the understatement of the fucking century. 

Your whole body was on fire, unable to do anything else but take everything Bob was giving. 

A resounding moan fell from your lips as Bob thrusted two fingers inside you, your walls struggling to accommodate the unexpected stretch. 

Was he this thick elsewhere?

You wanted to find out. Wanted to feel it inside you, in your mouth. You shamelessly wanted it all. But you couldn’t even voice that because Bob was tracing figure eights on your clit, his fingers brushing against a spot you thought Cosmo had made up. 

Fuck, he was doing a number on you. His soft hair threaded through your fingers as you gripped the strands. Your hips involuntarily jerked upwards, desperate to get as much of Bob as possible. 

You kept expecting him to stop, considering you were wet enough for him to fuck you. That's what everyone else did. 

But Bob Floyd wasn't like everyone else. Far from it. 

He was fucking delighted to hear all the cute, strained noises coming from you as he continued.  Each time you tugged on his hair, a groan would fall from his lips. It was the prettiest sound you had ever heard. 

Why did either of you wait this long? 

You tried to communicate, to let him know you were close, tugging on his hair, trying to move away from his mouth. 

But Bob was deceivingly strong, using his free hand to pin your hip back to the couch, his mouth firmly on your pussy. 

When you looked down, you were in awe of how blissed Bob looked. His eyes were closed as his mouth remained latched to your clit. The sounds of your own wetness were obscene, but barely audible over the moans Bob was letting out. 

He really did enjoy it.

“Come. Wanna taste ya,” His voice was muffled as he added a third finger inside you. 

Worried thoughts of coming on his face left your brain as pleasure coursed through your veins. Without any warning, the band that had been tightening came undone.

Bob used both hands to hold your hips firmly in place, his tongue lapping up your release. 

You don't recall coming this hard or this long before. It wasn't a small wave, it felt like the whole damn ocean was taking you under. 

His fingers continued to stretch you open, prolonging your high. The Navy was the perfect fit for him, considering he could apparently hold his breath for an impressive amount of time. 

The soft fabric of the couch cushions brushed as the back of your head, your eyes half closed. You couldn't even voice an acknowledge when Bob’s mouth and fingers withdrew from your abused cunt. 

“You're so pretty when you come,” Bob murmured, his lips brushing against yours. 

Your hands tugged on the soft fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. 

“M-my turn,” you whined, hips jerking up towards his. 

Bob shook his head, “Wanna be inside ya.” 

How was this the same guy who feared clowns as a kid? 

Before you could even question it, Bob had sat down on the couch, gripping your hips to help you straddle his lap. When had he taken off his jeans? How was he so quick- 

Jesus Christ, he was huge. 

“Fuck, she was right.” 

Bob looked up from where you two were about to connect, a very confused look on his face, “Excuse me?” 

“Betsey Thomas said you had a huge dick,” you confessed, wishing that you'd think before speaking for once. 

Bob’s brows knitted together in confusion, “Betsey Thomas has never seen my dick, the fuck are you talking about?” 

“Said she could tell you were packing because of the gym shorts you'd wear for PE class.” Bob signed, shaking his head as he muttered something about the required uniform. 

“I….we can unpack this later-” 

You snorted, “Why? Too busy packing here?” 

Your laughter was cut short by Bob rubbing his cock against your soaked cunt. Memories of high school escaped your brain, the only thing you could focus on now was Bob and his huge dick. 

Curious wasn't accurate. Frankly, you were desperate for him. Had been since middle school, if you were being truthful. 

“Woah, hey. Easy baby, easy,” his voice made your thighs clench, made you whine into his shoulder as you tried to line your aching hole with his cock. 

Finally, you felt him at your entrance. Slowly, he filled you up inch by inch. Every time you tried to urge him to go faster, Bob would simply shake his head before pressing a kiss against your cheek. 

“Don't want to hurt ya darlin’.” 

Darlin. You were his darlin. 

He made you feel so full, and you didn't even have it all inside of you yet. All you could do was cling to him as he whispered praises in your ears. 

Once you reached the base, it felt like you and Bob were the only ones in the world. At least, that’s what you pretended. It was better than thinking about how he would be gone for who knows how long after tonight. After boot camp was done, he would be off to train for the Navy. 

Even he didn't know when he would return home. 

It wasn't fair, finally expressing your feelings for one another just to be separated immediately after. You wanted him to stay, to go on dates with him, to visit him on the weekends when school started, just like everyone else in a long distance relationship. 

“Hey, what's wrong? Do you- we can stop if you want, it's okay.” Bob’s voice was soft, full of concern. 

His hand lifted your chin up from his shoulder, revealing your watery eyes. 

“I don't want you to go.” 

“I know,” his voice was barely a whisper, matching your volume. Long fingers gently traced over your face, as if he was trying to memorize them. 

“I know it's horrible timing, but we'll figure it out, okay? I want to figure it out with you, I promise,” He peppered your face with soft kisses, earning a small smile out of you. 

“But for now, can I make ya feel good? Because I'm willing to bet no guy has made you come while fucking ya.” 

Unlike in the past, where Bob’s smartass comments earned him a shove, you pressed your lips against his. 

“I'm gonna start moving now, okay?” Even though he warned you, nothing could have prepared you for how full Bob made you when his hips thrusted upwards. 

“You're-fuck- you feel so good, oh my God.” 

Your fingers tangled into Bob’s hair, trying to commit the feeling to memory. 

Bob was trying to do the same, his hands roaming over your body as he took in your scent. Maybe if he asked nicely, you'd let him take a bottle of your perfume with him. 

He was going to need it for the next few months. 

Your mouth clashed against his, tongue desperate to taste him. Wandering hands desperate to feel everything everywhere. 

“When-fuck- when I come back, wanna take you out. W-we can go to that Italian place by your school. The one where you have to wear a tie.” How Bob was able to talk coherently while fucking you was beyond comprehension. 

The Navy will be lucky to have his great ability to multitask. 

“Gonna bring ya flowers too. Sunflowers ‘cause they're-oh my god- you're favorite.” You didn't think you could recall your full name with the way Bob is thrusting into you, much less favorite things. 

Your walls clench around Bob’s thick cock, eliciting a desperate groan from him, rather than the instant ejaculation you were used to. 

“If you keep doing that, I'm gonna come,” Bob whined into the crook of your neck.

“That’s-shit- the point,” you grunted, your hips picking up speed. 

Bob shook his head, “Need you to come first.” 

Confusion caused you to still your hips, “Bob, I already-” 

“Don't finish that sentence, don't you dare,” Bob ended his command with a strong thrust that made you feel as if he was splitting you open on his cock. 

Your head dropped down to the crook of his neck. His skin was so warm and the smell of sage was nearly overwhelming. You knew exactly what body wash he had used, as it was the same one he wore ever since junior year, when you commented on how nice it was. 

In hindsight, it was painfully obvious. 

His lips found yours, capturing them in a desperate kiss. When you felt his fingers draw circles on your clit, you saw stars. 

You didn't know it could feel this good with someone. This was more than a quick fuck, as you actually felt cared for. It was intense, the sensitivity of your first orgasm still echoing every time the thick head of his cock brushed against your walls. 

It's audible how wet you are for Bob. He can feel it at the base of his cock, which makes him wonder what it would be like to have you on your knees, or better, your back, all spread out for him. 

“C’mon sweet girl,” he’s panting, voice desperate and raspy, “Wanna-fuck! Wanna feel you come s’bad, please, please baby.” 

Each circle drawn on your clit causes the band in your stomach to tighten. Combined with Bob’s words, you knew you wouldn't last much longer. 

“You're incredible, shit, I-fuck. All yours. Wanna be all yours. Fuck fuck fuck, clenching me so hard, fuck, don't stop.” Obscene was not a word many, if any, would use to describe Bob Floyd. 

Up until thirty minutes ago, you would have considered yourself part of that group. 

But now? Now you were falling apart on his cock. The rush of pleasure had hit like a brick, coursing through your veins. It hit harder than anything else, harder than the now banned alcohol caffeine combo drink, or any controlled substance doctors had prescribed to help you focus. 

His finger-fuck, usually you had to use two of your own- didn’t stop rubbing your clit, nor does he stop thrusting in and out of your pulsing cunt. It's almost as if-no, you know Bob’s enjoying making you feel euphoria. 

That's what blows your mind. His laser focus on your pleasure, rather than his own. Truthfully, he could have come already and you wouldn't have thought twice about it. 

But now it was all you could think about. How much he cared, how good he felt. How incredible it was for him to pull your hips flushed against his, filling you to the brim with his cock. 

“Holy shit you're so tight-I, sh-should I pull out?” 

Instead of answering, you used all your strength to rock your hips against him. Considering he made you come twice, the least you could do was help him find his release. 

Your fingers gripped his hair, tugging on the strands as your mouth clashed against his. 

The downright guttural groan he releases against your mouth has you clamping down on his cock. The motion finally leads to Bob’s undoing, causing him to come deep inside you, warmth flooding your body. 

His arms are wrapped around your body, clinging onto you as if he thinks you'll disappear if he lets go. 

You’d be a damn fool to. 

The basement is now quiet, apart from the heavy breathing coming from both you and Bob. 

After several minutes pass by, you gather the courage to break the silence, “Did you mean all that? Taking me out on a date and being mine?” 

Bob’s cheek burned a bright red as he timidly nodded his head, “I….yeah. I didn't mean to say it when we were, you know. I'm sorry.” 

You pressed a reassuring kiss to his warm cheek, “Robby, what do you feel the need to apologize for?” 

He looked up to you, those earnest blue eyes sparkling, “Shit timing?” 

“You're not wrong about that, but like you said earlier, I want to work it out with you.” Your words brought comfort, giving Bob the confidence to place a sweet kiss right on your lips. His smile was burning into yours, causing your stomach to flutter. 

“I know it's not that Italian restaurant, but can I take you out to breakfast tomorrow?” 

The local diner had been a go-to since y'all were thirteen. But this time would be different. This time you wouldn't feel the urge to look away when he caught you staring. This time neither one would correct the waitress when she'd make a comment about y'all being a cute couple. 

The soft call of your name pulled you out of your thoughts. 

“Uh can I….eat you out again? Tomorrow obviously! Like before we go to the diner?” 

Good Lord this man was going to be the death of you.

---------------------------------------------------------

@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @attapullman @ryebecca @sio-ina-bottle @rhettabbotts @callsignspark @roosterforme @lewmagoo @hangmanapologist @justabovewater20 @theharddeck @cumholland @bobfloydsbabe @sometimesanalice @heartfairy @auroralightsthesky

[magiccath]

The Ring

tenth doctor x f!reader

Summary: In which the only way for you and the Doctor to get out of this one is a fake marriage. But how fake is it really?

You keeled over, your breath coming out in short pants. You weren't as good at this running thing as the Doctor was. 

Sensing you weren’t behind him, the Doctor turned to check on you. You threw your thumb up, signaling that you were okay. You didn’t like the Doctor worrying about you. 

“I’m sure we’ve lost them for now,” he assured, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. It was a nervous tick that he had.

“What are we going to do?” You asked once you had caught your breath. You allowed your legs to fold underneath you, sitting in the grass. The Doctor crouched down next to you. 

It was supposed to be a nice vacation, a break from the hustle and bustle of time traveling. You had explicitly asked for a relaxing trip, one where you didn’t have to save the world or run for your life. You should have known that was never how it was with the Doctor. 

Everything was fine at first. The alien town the Doctor had selected for your trip was throwing an elaborate festival. You were more than happy to partake in the dancing and sample the foreign foods. What you failed to notice was the ritual behind the festival. The village selected an unmarried woman each year to sacrifice to their gods. In retrospect, it wasn’t the weirdest ritual you had encountered over the years. What made it so uncomfortable was the fact they had selected you. 

“I would rather not be a blood sacrifice,” you admitted, pushing your wayward hair out of your face. 

“I won’t let that happen,” The Doctor said seriously, taking your hand gently. He had the duty of care, something that he didn’t take lightly. 

“I’m not sure how much good we are against a whole village of bloodthirsty aliens,” you laughed, burying your head in your hands. You should have been scared, upset even. Instead, you found the whole thing funny. You supposed that was a side effect of traveling with the Doctor. Everything could always be worse, and everything in front of you could always be funny. You just had to frame it the right way.

“I have an idea,” the Doctor murmured. You looked up at him, confused. He only whispered things when he knew you wouldn’t like them. 

“They only want to sacrifice you because you’re unmarried,” he stated. You stared at him, unsure of the point he was trying to make. 

He groaned, running a hand down his face in frustration. 

“I’m gonna need you to spell this one out for me,” you laughed lightly.

The Doctor swallowed anxiously, his Adam’s apple bobbing aggressively. “We could get married,” he said matter-of-factly, with the same tone he used to ask if you wanted tea or coffee in the morning. 

“What?” you asked, wide-eyed. The Doctor swallowed again, his eyes diverting from yours. 

You loved the Doctor, in every sense of the word. He was your home, your comfort. He was everything and more to you. But he only loved you as a friend, and you were more than willing to accept that love. It was better to love him like this than not at all. 

“They can’t sacrifice you if we get married.” 

“No, I got that part,” you rushed out, waving your hands about anxiously.

“You,” you sighed, pausing before continuing, “marry me?” 

“To save your life, yes,” the Doctor said like it was the simplest thing in the world. He would walk to the ends of the universe for you. He had.

“Can we do that?” you laughed, squeezing your eyes shut. The whole thing felt too good to be true. 

“I can’t think of anyone else I would rather fake-marry,” he smiled, taking your hands in his again. 

You grinned, the smile taking over your whole face. The Doctor loved it when you smiled like that. He loved it even more when he made you smile like that. 

“Let’s get fake married!” you laughed, jumping up from the grass. The Doctor nodded in agreement, standing up next to you. 

“How exactly…” you trailed off. “Are we going to get fake married?” The Doctor had a habit of making plans without a way to execute them. 

It wasn’t like you could just walk into the village church and get married. You certainly couldn’t go back to the TARDIS, or that would have been the plan before suggesting a falsified marriage.

“There was a little cottage on the outskirts of town, we can hope that there’s an inhabitant there who can serve as a witness?” He suggested. 

You couldn’t come up with a better idea so you agreed, following the Doctor as he walked off into the distance. 

You tried not to read too much into the whole marriage thing. The Doctor was doing it to save your life, nothing more. Still, the mere idea of it left your skin tingling and your heart racing. 

You were so lost in thought you hardly noticed the cottage creeping up on you until you were standing on the front steps. 

The Doctor rapped his knuckles against the wood softly before stepping back. You waited in silence for a few moments. You could hear the blood pumping in your ears. What if this didn’t work? 

The door flung open, revealing an old woman. 

“What do you want?” She barked, clearly disturbed by the visit. 

The Doctor cleared his throat, searching for his words. You frowned, he usually didn’t have any trouble talking to strangers. 

“This is a bit of a strange request,” he laughed lightly, his hand drifting towards the back of his neck subconsciously. 

“Spit it out, young man.” 

You bit back a giggle. The Doctor was far from young, even if this face was youthful. 

“We need a witness for our wedding,” he rushed, his words coming out in hurried clusters. 

The woman remained silent for a moment, her eyes darting between the two of you. You could see hundreds of questions forming in her mind before she shook them away. 

“I don’t want to know,” she murmured as she opened the door. 

You exchanged a look of relief with the Time Lord before following her inside. 

She bustled about her cottage, sorting things out while the two of you fiddled anxiously in the corner. 

“Well, let's get on with it,” she finally sighed. 

The Doctor nodded timidly, holding out his hand for you to take. You slipped your hand into his, your fingers interlocking instantaneously. You had held hands hundreds of times, yet it felt different.

With his other hand, the Doctor rifled about in the pockets of his coat. You frowned, wondering what could possibly be in there. Did he really need a jammy dodger from the depths of his pocket right now? Finally, his hand slipped out of the pocket holding two silver rings. 

“Why, on Earth, are you carrying around wedding bands?” you laughed. He only shrugged, handing the simple rings over to the old woman. She examined the objects in her hand wistfully, turning them over in her hand. 

“I can’t say I’m a professional at this,” she warned. It didn’t really matter to either of you.

The Doctor took your other hand in his, standing face-to-face with you. You laughed at the domesticity of it. 

“Do you,” the woman paused, looking at the Doctor. 

“John Smith,” The Doctor smiled. You shook your head at his fake name. You had told him hundreds of times that he should change it. No one was really named John Smith, that's the kind of name you only ever found in books. 

“Alright,” the woman said, not even blinking. “Do you, John Smith, take this woman to love and hold blah, blah, blah?” She finished, looking back to the Doctor. He wasn’t even looking at her. His eyes were glued to you, studying every single aspect of your face. He never wanted to forget this moment. From your end of things, you were left with a sickly feeling that you had food on your face. 

“I do,” He smiled brightly. 

“And you?” she turned to you, repeating the process. 

“Absolutely,” you grinned. 

The woman handed you each a ring, which you placed on the other’s hand. You noted the slight shake in the Doctor’s hands as he slipped the silver band onto your finger.

You had always wanted to get married. Sure, you never imagined it like this. Standing in some random cottage in a pair of worn-out jeans exchanging wedding bands in order to save your life was never your plan. Even still, you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“You may kiss the bride,” The old woman chided, looking at you two disapprovingly. You were so busy looking into the Doctor’s eyes that you completely forgot about the whole kissing part of getting married. 

A scarlet flush overtook your face, but the Doctor pretended not to notice. Instead, he cupped your face in his hands gently, angling it upwards towards his. Slowly, he dipped his way down until his lips were inches away from yours. 

You could feel his breath on your mouth, you noted each and every twitch of his lips. Your eyes fluttered closed as he eliminated the gap, his mouth crashing into yours. 

He very well could have given you a chaste kiss, the kind you give your gran on Christmas Eve. Instead, he kissed you like his life depended on it. Like he had been thinking about kissing you for eons. 

His mouth fit against yours perfectly. There was no other way to describe it. 

He pulled away slowly, leaving you stunned and breathless. Your eyes remained closed for a moment, taking it all in. When they finally opened, you saw him. Your Doctor. The impossible, magnificent, loving creature in front of you. It was foolish to claim that such a being was yours alone, but you couldn’t see it any other way. 

“Congratulations,” the old woman smiled, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

“Thank you,” you smiled meekly, pushing your hair out of your face. 

-

You didn’t keep the ring on long. A few days after your wedding it came off with the rest of your jewelry before bed. You just never put it back on. It was a fake wedding after all. 

That didn’t mean that you threw it away though. Quite the opposite. The ring sat on your bedside table, occasionally glimmering in the light. 

Sometimes, you would run your fingers over it before bed. You relished the idea of it all. The memory of his hands holding yours, the feeling of his lips on yours. It haunted you.

The Doctor, however, never took it off. Not after the wedding. Not before bed. Not when he fiddled with the wires under the TARDIS console. 

You noticed this one evening, the dimmed lights of the control room catching on the polished metal. 

“Why do you still wear that?” you asked, gesturing to the Doctor’s left hand. His eyes traveled to the band on his finger that he had been idly spinning. 

“It’s my wedding band,” he shrugged as if it was as simple as that. 

“I’m not sure you can call it that,” you laughed, “I’m not even sure our wedding was legal.” 

“It doesn’t have to be,” he frowned, still looking at the ring. 

“I can take it off if it bothers you,” he suggested. He didn’t want to take it off, not ever. But if you wanted him to, he would. 

“It doesn’t,” you whispered, staring at the space where your own ring used to be. The feeling of his lips came back to you, and you had to push it to the side. 

“Did it mean nothing to you?” He asked, his voice hardly above a whisper. If you hadn’t been listening you might have missed it. 

“Not at all,” you said, refusing to meet his eyes. 

“You don’t wear yours,” he commented, taking your left hand in his. You stared at your interlocked hands, not trusting yourself to meet his eye. 

“You married me to save my life,” you stated. 

“And?” 

“It was a fake marriage.” 

“Not to me,” he whispered, running his thumb over the back of your hand. Your eyes drifted up to his face. He was looking at your hand with a pained expression. For the first time, it occurred to you that perhaps the absence of your ring was upsetting to him. For so long, you had assumed that he just wanted to forget the whole thing. 

“I love you,” he whispered, “I always wanted you to be my wife.” 

You didn’t know what to say. For a minute, you hardly believed the words coming from his mouth. 

“I always wanted you to be my husband,” you whispered, leaning in towards him. You paused, your breath bouncing off of his lips. It reminded you of your first kiss, the familiarity of it shocking. 

You learned in and kissed him gently, a tender kiss to test the waters. You pulled away, unsure if this was what he wanted. The Doctor gripped your face, crashing his lips against yours in a much more urgent matter. You smiled against his mouth, melting into the kiss. 

“My wife,” he chuckled between the kisses he planted all over your face. 

“My husband.”

[ohtobeleah]

M.U.R.P.H // Bradley Bradshaw

Summary: An undisclosed pregnancy that you and your husband try keeping a secret ends up being the reason you end up in hospital during a PTI session with the Dagger Squad.

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: Pregnancy. Bradley Bradshaw x F!reader. Mild Angst.

Author Note: Happy Saturday! This is pretty self indulgent but I final finished this one-shot that’s been in my drafts forever.

“Alright team.” Pete Mitchell, although overworked and severely underpaid for the crap he put up with–grinned ear to ear at his group of elite Naval Aviators who sat before him after debriefing this morning's training exercise. “As you know, this weekend is Memorial Day weekend and the Admirals have decided to get a jump start on the events.” 

“Are we getting a long weekend?” Fanboy beamed hopefully as he sat up a little straighter. “Please tell me we’re getting a long weekend—“ He hoped that if he asked with enough conviction in his voice the answer would be yes. However, he hadn’t noticed you standing at the back of the room. A protective hand over your barely visible baby bump. Waiting for the right moment to make your presence known. Bob had noticed though—he was already dreading what was to come. He hated Memorial Day. Not because he didn’t want to pay respects to those who had fallen, no. He’d honour the fallen every damn day if he had to. 

So long as he didn’t have to participate in Murph.

You’d been his PTI during his time in Lamoore. You were the first Bradshaw he’d met and before he later Met Bradley Bradshaw and put two and two together that the two of you were married–nothing had ever made more sense. 

Bob’s heart had sunk into his ass when he found out you were being transferred to North Island. You were somewhat of a hard task master when it came to gruelling training sessions and Memorial Day always gave you free rein to send anyone packing with their tail between their legs if they couldn’t keep up. 

You were, however, a solid friend. When you weren’t working, you were the life of the party. The brightest smile in the room and always the one who everyone gravitated towards. Much like Bradley, you two always seemed to get the party started. Whether it was playing great balls of fire and singing at the top of your lungs—or starting an important dart night that saw a permanent tally board hung up beside the much too loved dartboard. There had been a time or two where you’d challenged the strongest of the bunch to an arm wrestle—Bob was always the first to bow at your bark. Not one to challenge anything you said, hell he’d do just about anything you told him to do….

So long as he didn’t have to participate in Murph. 

Bob had never been one to believe in soulmates before he saw you and Bradley together, he’d never met two people more suited for each other. But neither of you needed to hear that from him–you’d already managed to figure that out on your own. 

“No, Fanboy—“ Maverick sighed as he gestured for you to make your way to the front of the class. “No you aren’t getting a long weekend, what you are getting though, is a killer workout with PTI Bradshaw.” You heard the mixed reviews your introduction received. You’d only just recently finished running annual fitness testing for those who needed to be re-evaluated. So the idea of yet another gruelling workout tossed their way wasn’t what some of the aviators had in mind for a head start on the weekend. 

Jake Seresin and Javy Machado however? Oh they were wrapped. They loved a challenge—they adored you and they certainly came over the challenges you loved to hand out. 

“Morning everyone.” You beamed as you handed Rooster, you beloved husband, who sat in the front row with a soft grin, a pile of papers. “Take one and pass them along please Lieutenant Bradshaw.” Your fingers lingered across Bradley’s for a few seconds as he smiled softly back at you with heart shaped eyes. He always thought you looked so different with your hair pulled back into a ridiculously tight bun. Your uniform made you look so different, nothing like what you looked like at the Hard Deck with your hair out and mum jeans on. Sitting beside him at the piano playing great balls of fire. A Margarita in your hand and his glasses over your beautiful eyes. Nothing like what you looked like tucked into his side, hair splayed every which way and silk pyjamas adorning your beautiful body. 

“Physical Training Instructors play a key role in developing and maintaining the health, fitness and well-being of our airmen. In the United States Navy, physical fitness is absolutely essential in maintaining good health and overall wellbeing.” Pete Mitchell had been required to say that little statement prior to any session he handed over to you. “Regardless of Rank, PTI “Agony” Bradshaw will be your superior for the next two hours—with that I hand you over.”

“Thanks Mav.” You chuckled, appreciating the way you were so respected by the veteran aviator. PTI’s didn’t always have the best wrap—so when Maverick commanded the attention of everyone in the room on your behalf it gave you a little more confidence each and every time. “Alright flyboys—“ You teased, turning your attention to Phoenix so you could address her too. “And Flygirl, today we’re doing MURPH—“ 

Your declaration was met with a choir of dismay and disapproval from at least half of the team that sat before you. Suddenly their shoulders were a little more slouched and their faces plastered with existential dread when they started reading over the workout plan you'd had Bradley pass back. No one liked doing MURPH, except maybe Jake Seresin.

“Ma’am, I think that sounds like a great idea—“ Hangman sent you one of his thousand watt grins as he played with the toothpick that sat between his teeth. “Don’t you think your wife here comes up with some banger ideas, Rooster?” Bradley did think you had some good ideas, he wasn't going to let you know that though–if he did he knew his workouts, his Personal Training sessions and his Fitness Testing would just increasingly get harder and harder. It had only been by the skin of his goddamn nose that you passed his last Multi-Stage Fitness Test. Bradley Bradshaw was a hunk and with that meant he himself was not the most aerodynamic of the bunch–Bob had passed with flying colours, although you did nearly force him to restart his push-ups again when you caught him cheating on range. 

“She told me what she had planned last night Hangman, I’m ready to go, brought my pre workout in my bag and everything—“ Rooster just sighed as he leaned back in his chair, spreading his legs as he brought his hands up to rest behind his head. “Piece of cake.” 

“I have never heard anyone say MURPH is a piece of cake.” Phoenix groaned. “Aggie, please–” 

“I don't make the rules, Lieutenant, I just enforce them.” You had gotten used to the love-hate relationship and animosity you received while you were in uniform, it was your job to make sure none of the navy’s finest aviators let their fitness fall to the wayside. “Now for those who don't know what MURPH is, i'll explain quickly then you can all take twenty to change, refuel, and meet me over in the gym.” As you pulled out the empty chair that sat vacant next to your husband, you used it as a footstool before propping yourself up on the desk. Clearing your throat before reading out the workout explanation on the sheet you'd distributed. 

“M.U.R.P.H is a hero WOD dedicated to Michael P. Murphy, the first service member to receive the Medal of Honor for service in Afghanistan, during a Memorial Day event on Bagram Airfield, Afghanistan, May 24, 2015.” Although there were more people sitting before you who didn't like the idea of such a gruelling workout, they did respect the fallen. “Michael's favourite workout was dedicated to him after his passing and thus, will be your workout today.” You felt the stomachs of everyone, all but Jake And Javy who just sat a little straighter in their chairs, drop.

“Today you will complete a one mile run, 100 pull-ups, expected to be chest to bar, 200 push-ups, 300 bodyweight squats, and to finish up we’ll run another mile.” Bradley crept a hand around your calf, thumbing your uniform as he squinted his eyes and bit his bottom lip, hoping you wouldn't add anything else to the list…..He should have known better. But he couldn't hold a grudge against you–not when you were four months pregnant and glowing. You were hiding your pregnancy well, it wasn't that you didn't want your friends and family to know, it's just you wanted to revel in the experience with Bradley for a little while longer before telling everyone you were both expecting. “Usually the twenty pound weight vest would be optional, but boys and girls you are some of the Navy’s finest Aviators, so you will all complete this course while wearing a twenty pound vest, none-notable people.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~*

In the locker room, Nomex Flight Suits had been discarded for workout gear. Standard issue work boots had been replaced by trainers, and any and all standards of professionalism had gone out the window. It was the one thing everyone actually did enjoy about having you as their PTI, you weren’t big on formality. As long as respect was there you couldn’t give a rats ass about if people swore at you or razzed you. It made the job just a little bit more enjoyable. 

The last thing anyone wanted to do while they were working out was keep a rigid and professional persona. 

“Man, sometimes I hate your wife.” Phoenix grumbled as the group walked out of the locker room with towels slung over their shoulders and copious amounts of pre-workout scooped into shakers. Bradley couldn't help but to laugh, he loved you so much, the wedding band wrapped around his ring finger was there to prove it. The tattoos of your name on his left ass cheek was also there to prove it. 

“I wouldn't let her hear you say that.” Bradley paused as he took a swig of his pre-workout before handing it to Jake who looked like he was pumping himself up for the fight of his life. “She’ll ‘accidentally’ forget to count your reps and make you start again.” 

“This is surely a form of torture–” Fanboy added as he trailed behind with Bob. 

“It's a hero WOD Fanboy–respect the dead.” Jake hissed, he was as keen as, the only one in the group who hadnt had a negative thing to say about your workout plan. “I don't know why you guys aren't more excited.”

“Unlike you Hangman, most of us aren't gluttons for punishment.” Payback teased as he came to sling an arm around Jake's shoulders. “Or degradation, considering the unholy things I've seen in your search history.” Jake and Bradley had grown closer in the past few years that saw them in North Island permanently, there had been more times than you could count where the two of them would stumble back to your humble abode, drunk out of their minds. There had even been a time or two where you'd caught them spooning on the couch when Rooster couldn't take the stairs in his drunken state. 

“None of which compare to what Bradsaw probably cops in the bedroom.” Jake was quick to turn the attention back on Rooster, sending him a smirk over his shoulder as he took a quick sip of the pre-workout they were sharing and handed it over. “Huh Rooster? Agony probably has you wrapped around her little finger.” It was no secret amongst the group that you were a power house PTI, you didn’t dish out any workout you couldn't do with your eyes closed, something that the Daggers really valued about you was your integrity. You were honest and kind and above all, you levelled with them. You weren't a hypocrite and you, as much as you hated your job some days, the constant pressure, the delayed onset muscle soreness, the gruelling workouts and the sweat, you led by example and practised what you preached. 

That didnt mean you and Bradley wouldn't reserve Friday nights for takeout and chocolate. 

“That she does.” Was all Bradley replied with, “Have you fucking seen her? She’d kick my ass any day of the week if I gave her any ounce of crap.” He was without a shadow of a doubt whipped, but Bradley had always been that way with you–ever since he met you at his first water survival training weekend, he was down bad. He’d been assigned to your little group that first Saturday and you sent his heart into the stratosphere the first time you smiled at him. He was still unsure if it had ever come back or if your unconditional love and admiration just kept it hovering in the ozone layer. 

“She looks like she's glowing.” Bob remarked as the group mixed with nervousness, existential dread and far too much ego radiating of one particular member made their way across the tarmac to the base gym you could be found in any given day of the week. It was your home away from home. Kitted out with state of the art equipment, a spacious and functional environment that was welcoming and motivating. “She's far too excited about this, oh my god.” 

Bradley knew you were glowing, but he also knew it wasn't because you were excited. He knew that it was because of the little one growing inside you, a mix of him and you. He kind of hoped it was a boy, but everyone always told him he’d make a good girl dad. Regardless–he just wanted to be a dad, his biggest achievement by far would be being a good dad.

“She really is.” Bradley beamed as he heard the unmistakable tune of AJR’s Burn The House Down blasting through your speakers, reading over the workout plan one final time as you sat on the sled track, legs sprawled as you hummed away in your own little word. Twirling the pen you held in your hand absentmindedly, Bradley’s voice brought you out of your concentration. Alerting you that the team was ready to be put through their paces. “We’re hear for your torture session, Agony, don’t hold back on Hangman though, he’s been gloating since, well–forever really.” Bradley teased as he offered you a gentle hand, helping you rise up from the felt sled track. You immediately felt a dizziness unparalleled to anything you'd ever experienced before. So much so you fought off the urge to succumb to the feeling of descent as you stumbled and stammered for a second. 

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, Lieutenant.” You smiled, exhaling as you steadied your equilibrium. Bradley caught on immediately that you were feeling slightly uneasy, placing a soft hand against the small of your back as you cleared your throat and rolled up your sleeves a little. “Alright, So I’ve measured out half a mile along the airfield, so it's half a mile to and half a mile back– You can either run the tarmac or use the treadmill.” You explained to everybody standing around  listening in to what you had to say. 

“Can we break up the reps Y/n?” Payback asked as he shouldered Bob, forcing him to lose his footing slightly, stumbling for a second as he sent Payback look. “Or is it strictly 100, 200, 300?” 

“I don't care what you guys do so long as you get it done.” Your tone made Fanboy shiver, you could be a hard task master when you wanted to be. “Start warming up and we’ll get this show on the road.” Bradley was quick to sneak a peck on the cheek when the group started to disperse, all except for Hangman a little on edge about what was to come. 

“You feeling alright darlin?” He cooed, walking with you over to your desk where you’d left your water bottle. 

“Your baby is the size of a pear at the moment and she's already giving me a hard time.” Neither you nor Bradley wanted to know if you were having a boy or a girl, you wanted it to be a surprise, both having made lists that kept growing with names galore. “I'm just starting to feel really sluggish, which is hard to hide when I'm usually the energiser bunny on base.” 

“Dr. Richards did say you’d need to pull back a little the further along you get baby." It was hard to accept that you would eventually have to slow down, up until about two weeks ago you had been fine, apart from the morning sickness you had dealt with in the first trimester. Bradley respected your boundaries when you were both at work, knowing professionalism in the workplace was important to you, however–that didn't stop him from discreetly placing a gentle hand atop your stomach, finding the small baby bump hiding under your work uniform. The camo green fabric warping around your naval under his palm. “But that doesn't mean you're not any less capable, just means you’re growing our little boy which in my opinion, is pretty spectacular.” 

“Just means we’ll need to tell everyone sooner rather than later Roo.” You sighed, taking a sip of your water, not knowing that Phoenix had spotted the gentle touch of your husband's hand resting on your stomach for a brief moment. Her eyes wide in shock as her jaw slacked slightly. Phoenix though, the master of recovery, disguised her surprise when you turned around to round up the gang that were all in the process of warming up in some way shape or form. “Alright, we can stagger the start for those who aren't warm enough–” You side eyed Bradley as he scoffed at you, leaving your side to join his colleagues. “

“Let's go boys and girl, we’re doing Murph baby!” Jake hollered out, clapping his hands down on Javys shoulders, pumping each other up as you laughed, a smile creeping across your face. “Bradshaw! You gonna try keep up with the big boys?” 

“Think I might taxi with Bob.” Bradley replied, jogging on the spot before giving his lower back a little twist side to side. Bob just rolled his eyes, to the untrained eye he was the kind of guy who kept his shirt on during beach days, but he thoroughly enjoyed cardio. If Rooster's plan had been to taxi with him during the mile run he was in for a rude shock, but Bob knew he was gonna lose time in the pull-up department. “You ready to go man?” 

“As ready as I'll ever be for this kind of workout.” Bob groned. “If I say I twisted my ankle now, do I still have to participate?” The group all laughed at the near winge that left Bob's mouth, he really wasn't up for this today–but what you came back with made the gym explode with boisterous laughter. 

“If you dont be careful Lieutenant Floyd l’ll pack an extra pound into your weight vest.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Phoenix saw her opportune moment to strike about half way through the first half mile. Bradley was starting to show a red hume across his face, a thin layer of sweat had started to form across his forehead and Phoenix knew that if he was focusing hard enough on keeping his pace steady with one foot in front of the other, she knew he was in no position to formulate a lie. 

“So–Bradshaw.” Phoenix started as she came up to jog beside Rooster. “How far along is she?” 

“How far along is who?” Bradley replied as he kept his head straight, focused on the marker up ahead that indicated the turn around point. Watching as Jake and Javy booked it around one another, racing ahead of the rest of the group who had all opted to taxi their way through this. 

“Agony, she's pregnant.” Phoenix spoke with such conviction that Bradley found it near impossible to try and formulate a lie that would cover up the truth of the matter. “I saw you put your hand on her stomach, and I know you wouldnt do that if she wasnt pregnant.” 

“She's feeling a little off today, little spud is kicking her around a little.” It was all the conformation Phoenix needed to let out a little squeal as she beamed at Rooster, smacking him in the shoulder. “Ow!” 

“Why would you keep this from us! Rooster! That's amazing, congratulations!” 

“We just wanted to enjoy it for a while, just us, we haven't even told her parents yet.” Bradley explained as he made it to the turnabout point with Phoenix, both keeping each other's pace. “She's four months, we don't wanna know the sex, but everything is going the way it should, doc said she’ll need to start pulling back soon though.” 

“Ah, so thats why she isn’t participating in the torture.” Phoenix had picked up on the fact you weren’t participating today, she thought it was odd that you weren't but wasn't about to question it. She was scared you'd match her attitude and give her an extra 100 push ups. “Mrs Bradshaw is knocked up.” 

“Yeah.” Bradley chuckled, he liked the sound of that. “I had to beg her not to last night when I saw the MURPH file sitting out on the dining table, got down on my knees and everything.” 

“You couldn't have just talked her out of the whole plan entirely?” Phoenix whined, starting to feel a little more puffed from talking as she jogged with Bradley. Starting to really feel herself warming up. 

“Oh trust me, I tried that too.” Bradley explained, laughing as he remembered how that conversation ended. “She seduced me just to get me to shut up.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

By the time Rooster and Phoenix got back to the hanger turned gym, Jake and Javy were already going ten reps for ten reps with their pull ups. Bob, Fanboy and Payback were just standing there, watching as they caught their breath and waited for Rooster and Phoenix to return. 

“Alright ladies, now that everyones back, there's no rest for the wicked.” You turned up the volume on the speaker you stood by before making your way over. “Lets hussle, clocks still ticking and the faster you get this done the less time you have to spend here with me.” 

Fanboy groaned as he turned to Bob, sharing a painful look of ‘I'm over this already.’ 

“How are you gonna break this up, Roo?” You cooed, coming to stand by your husband as you watched Payback and Phoenix get to work on the rig, everyone was working on their pull ups first. “If it was me i'd do ten at a time.” 

“I think I should be able to manage twenty-five at a time.” He smiled, mumbling under his breath in your ear as he leaned in to kiss your earlobe. “Phoenix knows you're pregnant by the way.” 

“What!?” You gasped. “How did she find out! You said we weren’t gonna tell anyone yet?” 

“Saw me touch your stomach before, figured it was a little sus.” Bradley cooed. “I'm sorry.” 

“No, no don't be, it was bound to happen sooner or later.” You accepted the reality, watching as your group worked through their reps, taking notice of Bob who was severely lacking in his rep range. “Floyd! Chin to bar!” 

“Yeah Bob, chin to bar.” Hangman added, laughing with that thousand watt grin he was known for. “Bradshaw! Stop trying to flirt your way out of this!” 

“That's my cue.” Bradley groaned, throwing his head back as he ran his hands through sweat covered locks. “Play nice please.” 

“Nope, hop to it Lieutenant–” You bit back, biting your bottom lip as you cautiously and ever so discreetly slapped Bradley on the arse, watching as you sauntered away with a little more pep in his step. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

“I feel like my arms are gonna pop off!” Next was the push ups. Mickey groaned as he did his set of twenty as you came to kneel beside him. “You’re a vicious and cruel woman.” 

“Well I guess Agony is rather fitting, isn't it Fanboy?” you questioned through a soft laugh as you pressed a hand between his shoulder blades. “Retract your scaps, you're relying too much on your triceps, put the pressure through your chest and your longevity will increase.” 

“If i wasn't so mad i'd say thankyou.” He groaned, keeping on keeping on with his reps. As soon as he was done, Rooster started his, same as Payback. 

“Hmm, I'll take it.” You ruffled Mickey's hair, wiping the sweat you collected onto the thigh of your pants as you stood, feeling light headed as you rose too quickly. “Oh–” Your vision blurred momentarily as a slight ringing in your ears rang out, you tried to breathe through it, but you couldn't catch the feeling. 

“Hey Aggie, you okay?” It was Hangman who noticed that you were looking a little unsteady at first, but as soon as the words were leaving his mouth? You were going down. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head as the dizziness from standing too quickly took over you entirely. “Oh shit!” It normally wouldn't have been an issue, but you'd been feeling a little unsteady all day. “Y/n–” Hangman was quick to move to break your fall, catching you in his arms before you could hit the ground. “Rooster! Get over here will ya?” Jake called out, Bradley hadnt seen you fall, he was too busy focusing on his push-ups. “It's Y/n.” 

“What's wrong?” Bradley asked as he stood, noticing you passed out in Jake's arms. “Oh my god, hey–” He cooed, tapping your cheek softly as he crouched beside you on the other side of Jake, the whole ordeal had grabbed the attention of all the aviators you had in your gym. “Hey, darling, you okay? Open your eyes for me baby.” 

You did, slowly, fluttering your eyelids with a soft groan as you tried to sit up, still feeling dizzy.

“Woah–easy there killer, what's going on? I've never seen you pass out like that before.” Although Jake was technically addressing you, Bradley held a palm to your forehead as he pressed his lips together, watching as you struggled to focus on what was going around you. 

“She’s pregnant–” The gym went completely silent at Bradley’s major announcement. “I gotta get her to the hospital in case there's something wrong.” 

“Bradley, I'm fine.” You tried to reason with your husband as he scooped you up and into his arms, waiting for you to wrap your arms around his neck before he stood. “I promise, I just felt a little light headed is all.” 

“Yeah, no I don't care, we’re getting you checked out.” There was a distinct shift in Bradley’s tone, before he was playful, enjoying the workout as much as he could but now? He was as serious as ever, nothing was more important to him than you, his family. 

“Bradley, I'm in the middle of instructing a class.” Again you tried to defend the unnecessary need to go get checked out. You really didn’t feel like it was that big of an issue. “I can’t just leave? Everyone needs—“ Before you could finish, Bradley was interrupting. 

“Guys? you good?” Bradley turned around, addressed the totally stunned and flabbergasted group who just looked at him like he’d just dropped a major bomb on them. That his wife was expecting, you were gonna be a mother, and he, Bradley Rooster Bradshaw, was gonna be a dad. “You know what you’re doing don't you?” 

“Uh, yeah–” Bob started. 

“We’re good.” Payback stammered.

“We’ll be fine, just go make sure everything’s okay.” Phoenix added. 

“What do you mean Y/n’s pregnant!?” Hangman asked, standing there with wide eyes and a confused expression. Bradley didn’t respond, he simply turned on his heels and continued on his way, carrying you over to the admin building on base to get you checked out. 

“Do I need to have the sex education talk with you Seresin?” Phoenix teased. “Did your parents never give you the birds and the bees talk?” Jake just sent her a look. 

“You fucking knew didnt you?” He called Phoenix on her cool calm and collected manor. Something was up. 

“Only for like twenty more minutes than you.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

“Take a picture, it’ll last long.” You pouted from your position on the hospital bed, hooked up to a heart rate monitor. Bradley sat beside you, hand in yours as he just stared at you. Trying to get a read on how you were actually feeling because he knew you weren’t telling him the truth. 

“Woah, that was incredibly rude, Mrs Bradshaw.” Bradley teased as he let go of your hand, leaning back in the chair he sat perched in. stretching his arms up over his head, enough so that the bottom of his shirt pulled up, exposing his lower abdomen for a second. An incredible sight. “I'm just doing what any good husband would do, you know, making sure your health is in top priority.” 

“I'm A Personal Training Instructor for the United States Navy.” You reminded your husband, deadpanning him as you swirled your palm across your stomach. Stupid hospital gown covering your small bump. “Uncle Sam pays me to make sure you keep your health in tip top shape, it's not the other way around.” Bradley sent you a childish lok as his snickered back at you as you stuck your tongue out at him. “Listen, I’m fine, I'm just not used to my equilibrium being so off, I got up too quick and lost my balance, I'm fine.” 

“Why don't we let the doctor be the judge of that?” Bradley sighed, leaning forward as he rose from his seat to kiss your cheek. You just accepted the loving gesture as he cupped your cheeks, swiping the pad of his thumb across your cheek. “I just worry about you, because I love you and if anything ever happened to you I wouldn't be able to forgive myself for not doing enough when I could have.” 

“Good thing I love you more huh?” You cooed, watching as Bradley sat back down as Doctor Richard’s entered the room. 

“That my dear, is not possible.” Rooster just managed to get his reply in before Doctor Richards smiled. 

“Well the good thing is there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with bubs from the ultrasound.” She explained as she read through your chart. “But it seems as though you’re experiencing some bouts of low blood pressure Mrs Bradshaw.” 

“Low blood pressure?” Bradley questioned. “That can just happen? Y/n doesn’t have low blood pressure?” He was right, you didn’t, but you seemed to have it now. 

“I can assure you Mr. Bradshaw it’s a very common occurrence during the first twenty four weeks of pregnancy, I wouldn’t be too alarmed as long as you manage it.” Doctor Richards addressed you as you sat up a little straighter in your bed. 

“How would you like me to do that Doc?” You asked with a sigh, it wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy being pregnant. You did and you were so excited for your little one to arrive. What was annoying though was the fact you had been told to slow down, take things easy, enjoy the time you had with your baby. You were naturally a physically active person. Slowing down just wasn’t in your DNA. 

“Take it easy. Try to slow down a little? I understand you’re a PTI? Perhaps avoiding strenuous activity for the time being will help.” Doctor Richards explained. “Try to avoid making sudden movements, like standing up too quickly. It shouldn’t be a long term thing but for now? Monitor your systems, drink plenty of water to stay hydrated to increase your blood volume.” 

“Aye aye captain.” You groaned, saluting Dr. Richards as you slumped a little. Rooster caught onto your bad mood instantly, deciding to take over the conversation for you. 

“We’ll do our best Doc, thanks for checking up on her.” 

“Anytime—I’ll have your charts done up and send a discharge notice to the ladies at Reception.” She explained before leaving the room, giving you and Bradley a moment alone. He was silent as you walked Ike’s at him. Expecting him to say he told you so. 

“You feelings alright?” He asked softly. 

“I’m fine—just need a moment to truly process that my career is over.” You groaned, lying back as you faught of tears, it was the hormones, but not really. You just knew this day was coming. 

“What are you talking about?” Bradley asked, concern lacing his tone of voice as he sat as close to you as he possibly could. “Darlin—?” 

“If I can’t train, I can’t tell others to train. I can’t be a hypocrite.” You explained as tears fell down your cheeks. “I’ll go on maternity leave and lose my strength, my endurance, my body is already changing and I can only imagine what it’ll be like after having this beautiful baby.” You were well aware how crazy you sounded but it’s how you felt. “Bradley, I hope you don’t take this as me not loving every single moment of this because I am—“ You sobbed as Braldey held your hand and brought it to his lips. “I’m just scared of how becoming a mother is gonna affect the career I worked so hard to build.” 

“I understand baby.” Bradley tried his best to console you, he wasn’t going to tell you that none of what you were worried about was going to happen. He knew that there was a possibility it could. It had happened to other women before you and it would certainly happen after. “But if anyone can manage being a wonderful, caring mother and a fierce, incredibly talented career woman it’s you.”

“You think so?” You couldn’t help but to scoff lightly through your tears as you turned your head to look at your husband, so thankful for his every strong presence and support. 

“Honey I know so, we’ll do whatever it takes to get you right back to where you were before this little one came along.” He smiled, helping you sit up. “But let’s focus on you now? Alright, keep that blood pressure from dropping, keep you healthy and happy mama.” 

“Oh god!” You remembered the fact Bradley had mentioned to every single Dagger that you were pregnant. “Oh my god Roo, they’re gonna tackle us!” You leaned forward into your husband's chest as he laughed and kissed the top of your head. “I guess we better get back and get it over with huh?” 

“Yeah, better to rip the Band-Aid off fast than to drag it out.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

By the time you got back to base, the entire Dagger Squad was waiting back in the rec room. When you and Bradley entered cautiously, they all stood up as if they were expecting life altering news. 

“Is everything alright?” Bob asked, you never thought his eyes could get any bigger—but as he looked at you with hope filled eyes, you knew you’d been wrong. 

“Everything’s fine.” You smiled, wrapping your arm around Rooster's torso. Pulling him close as he sighed and filled in the gaps. 

“Mum and Bub are doing well, just got a little low blood pressure to manage but other than that? Everything else seems to be just fine.” Everyone went quiet, all silently thanking the heavens above and those in it that nothing major had occurred. Until Fanboy said what everyone was thinking—

“Can we go back to the part where you’re pregnant and didn’t tell any of us?” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

[bradshawsbaby]

Change of Plans

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Wife!Reader

Summary: You and Bob are supposed to be getting ready to attend the Navy Ball, but after being gone on a mission for three months, your husband has other plans.

Word Count: 4.8k

Author’s Note: Happy International Bob Floyd Fucks Month! Thanks for hosting, @attapullman!

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Explicit sexual content, oral sex (female receiving), allusions to sex, innuendos, and fluff because I'm physically incapable of not writing fluff.

All the make-up in the world wasn’t going to hide this hickey.

Groaning in frustration, you rose from the stool at your vanity and leaned in closer to the mirror, dabbing delicately at the sensitive, bruised skin at the base of your throat, right along your collarbone. It felt as though you had already applied half your tube of concealer, and still the purplish mark was glaring back at you, mocking you with its prominence.

It was hopeless.

Maybe you could swap out the necklace you had been planning to wear tonight with a larger one from your jewelry box? Oh, but the one you had already chosen paired so perfectly with your dress. Would anyone believe you if you said you had walked into a kitchen cabinet? Highly unlikely.

“Damn you, Robert Floyd,” you muttered under your breath, futilely smudging another round of concealer on your skin with your beauty blender.

You certainly hadn’t been complaining when your husband had given you the love bites the night before, too swept up in pleasure and your desire for him to have had the forethought to consider the impact his mouth was going to have on your attire for tonight’s big event.

Bob had returned only two days earlier from a three-month mission—the longest he’d been gone since your wedding—and he had been absolutely insatiable since coming home. Not to say that the two of you didn’t enjoy a very healthy and robust sex life, but these past two days had been something else. You’d seen a side of your sweet, mild-mannered husband that thrilled you in its passionate desperation. Just yesterday, he’d held you as a very willing captive in bed all day long, his lips and tongue tracing every curve and contour of your body, his mouth memorizing the taste of your skin.

Hence, the hickies.

At least the rest of them were scattered across your body in places no one else would find. It was just this pesky one on your neck.

Sighing softly, you took a small step backward and turned your head from side to side, surveying the work you’d done from different angles. From a distance, maybe people would think it was a birthmark? Or maybe if you wore your hair down, instead of swept back in the updo you currently had it pinned in, it would serve as a shield.

Or maybe you would just have to walk into the United States Navy Ball letting everyone know that Lieutenant Robert Floyd, the shy, meek WSO that so many people underestimated on a daily basis, enjoyed marking up his wife’s neck.

The Dagger Squad’s return had coincided with the Navy’s birthday, which meant that they had barely been home a couple days and already they were having to don their dress blues for the blowout birthday bash. Bob normally enjoyed attending the ball, but this time, he’d been looking for any excuse to get out of it.

“I just want to stay here with you,” he’d mumbled against your lips just that morning. “You’re the only one I want to be with right now.”

Maybe the hickies hadn’t been as innocuous as you thought. Maybe they had been a calculated attack on your husband’s part to convince you to pull the plug on your evening plans. The thought made you shake your head, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Just then, you heard Bob’s voice reverberating through your small bungalow, the sound of his footsteps growing closer as he approached the bedroom.

“Sweetheart, do you know where I put my cuff—”

His voice trailed off as soon as he entered the room, which made you glance over your shoulder to discern the reason why.

He was half dressed, clad in his blue dress pants and a crisp white button down shirt, sans the missing cufflinks. But he no longer seemed concerned about that as he stood staring at you, his blue eyes blown wide behind his glasses. He was drinking in the sight of you like a parched man in the desert.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed out, his voice almost reverent.

“What?” you giggled softly, feeling your cheeks grow warm under the intensity of his gaze.

Bob just continued to stare, wordlessly appreciating you as his eyes raked you over from head to toe.

You turned back to your vanity mirror to figure out what it was that he found so mesmerizing. You’d been so fixated on hiding that hickey that you hadn’t even paid much attention to what the rest of you looked like.

Your hair and make-up were already done, the blush and lipstick you had chosen doing much to accentuate your features. You hadn’t wanted to get anything on your gown, so you were dressed only in your sheer silk stockings and the little chocolate-colored silk slip that you were going to be wearing underneath your dress. You had to admit that you did look quite good. And Bob always did love you in silk.

“Don’t get any ideas, Lieutenant,” you teased, batting your eyelashes over your shoulder as you leaned in closer to the mirror and carefully wiped at a small smudge of lipstick in the corner of your mouth.

“Oh, honey, do we have to go tonight?” Bob groaned, stepping further into the room and walking right up behind you, his eyes meeting yours in the vanity mirror as he rested his hands on your hips.

“Yes, we do,” you laughed, privately reveling in the feel of his large, warm hands pressed against you. “We told all our friends we would be there, and all your bosses are going to be there, too.”

“They know who I am,” he argued, ducking his head and pressing soft, languid kisses to your shoulder. “I think we’re well past the need for making good impressions.” His lips transferred from one shoulder to the other, leaving a trail of searing kisses in his wake.

“But it’s the Navy’s birthday,” you countered, trying not to waver in your resolve. “You love the Navy.” Your breath caught slightly at the end of that last sentence, but you were hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“I love you more,” Bob murmured, his lips now moving towards your neck. “Besides,” he whispered against your ear, lightly nipping at your earlobe, “the Navy’s had almost 250 birthdays. It won’t mind if I miss one party.”

“What about my dress?” you sighed softly, letting your head loll back against his shoulder as his hands began roaming over your stomach and thighs, his kisses against your neck and shoulders becoming more insistent.

“You can save it for next year,” he chuckled lightly, his broad chest rumbling against your back. “As beautiful as I’m sure you’d look in it, I think you look even more beautiful out of it,” he added in a low voice, his massive hands sliding up your body until they were gently cupping your breasts.

“Bob,” you moaned out softly, trying to scold him even as your eyes fluttered closed from how good his touch felt. “We shouldn’t. We’re going to be late.”

Your husband didn’t respond with words this time, just hummed faintly against your skin while he nibbled gently along your jaw, the veins in his hands standing out against his fair skin as he began kneading and massaging your breasts through the thin material of your slip. You’d always loved his hands—after his beautiful eyes and his kind smile, they were one of your favorite features on him.

“You’re not playing fair,” you giggled breathily, your toes curling and an all too familiar heat pooling between your legs as his hands continued to caress your body, one remaining on your breast while the other glided down along your side, tenderly stroking your stockinged thigh.

“I need you, sweetheart,” he whispered, burying his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling the scent of your perfume. It was his favorite. You always sent him with a bottle of it when he left on a mission or deployment so that he could spray it on his pillow and be reminded of you. When he arrived home two days ago after being gone for three whole months, the bottle was empty. “I missed you so much. Please.”

“Oh, Bobby,” you exhaled, reaching behind you and raking your fingers through his hair, mussing his neatly combed locks. “How could I ever say no to you?”

With that greenlight, Bob swiftly turned you in his arms so that you were facing him, your back to your vanity mirror as he crushed you against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around you and his lips crashing against yours in a heated embrace.

Moaning delightedly into his mouth, you wrapped your arms around him, caressing the nape of his neck with your manicured fingers as his hands slid down your back until they were cupping your butt, pulling you even closer to him.

You felt the loss of him when he pulled back, your lips desperately chasing his even as he lifted those big hands of his to cradle your face, one thumb brushing across your bottom lip as he smiled down at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“What happened to us being late?” he joked, kissing the tip of your nose and then peppering your cheeks and jaw with tiny, barely-there kisses.

“My husband can be very persuasive,” you grinned, fisting your hands in the front of his dress shirt and turning your face upward, willing his lips to return to yours.

Bob chuckled at that, tenderly brushing a loose lock of hair out of your face. “Oh, sweetheart, I’ve been dreaming of this for so long. Just getting to hold you in my arms again. I never want to let you go,” he whispered, his lips ghosting over yours, just enough to send tingles racing up and down your spine, but not enough to satisfy the ache gnawing at you, deep inside. “Sit down,” he told you quietly, indicating your long-forgotten vanity stool with a short nod of his head.

Swollen lips still desperate for more of his kisses, you pouted slightly, but did as he said, slowly lowering yourself down onto the stool and staring up at your husband, wondering what was on his mind.

But then suddenly your tall, strong, handsome husband was sinking to his knees in front of you and all questions and coherent thoughts flew out of your mind.

“Honey,” he groaned out in a husky voice, burying his face in your lap and littering the tops of your thighs with hot, hungry kisses, his arms coming up to encircle your waist. “I love you. I love you so much,” he murmured, nudging the hem of your slip up slowly with his nose.

“I love you, too, Bobby,” you told him, running your fingers through his hair, tears pricking the corners of your eyes at the naked adoration you felt in every little thing he did and said.

Head still resting in your lap, Bob’s arms slowly began to slide back down your body, his fingertips tracing a hot trail down your legs. He loved when you wore silk stockings, his hands running back and forth over the thin, sheer material with a sense of awe. Shifting back slightly, he pushed your slip up so that your stockinged thighs were more fully exposed to him. He gazed at them for a minute or two, as if just wanting to admire their beauty, and then bent his head down, planting one kiss after another on each thigh, all in a neat row. His movements were slow, unhurried, purposeful. He was taking his time worshiping your body and he wanted you to know it.

After several minutes of kissing your thighs, Bob turned his attention to your knees, pressing soft kisses to the insides of each of them. And as his lips danced across your skin, his hands slid up and down the backs of your calves, gently massaging as he went.

“Bobby,” you breathed out, your fingers continuing to run through his hair as you bit your bottom lip, your back arching as you felt your nipples harden and desire pool and pulse between your legs.

“Have I told you lately how much I love these thighs?” he asked, his eyebrows rising as his glance turned upward towards your face, his mouth still skimming the insides of your knees, slowly moving higher. “I could happily spend the rest of my life between these thighs,” he sighed, lightly biting down on the supple flesh.

“Bobby!” you giggled, feeling your skin grow warm from his praise and from how turned on it was making you.

He evidently didn’t want the hickey that you still hadn’t managed to conceal to feel lonely, because he suddenly began a passionate assault on your upper thighs, kissing and sucking and biting until you could see the small red marks appearing, even through your stockings.

Letting out a low moan of arousal, you found yourself tugging on his hair, pulling his head up and dragging his mouth towards yours. Bob happily obliged, his strong arms wrapping securely around your body as he kissed you with a newly unlocked fervor. His long, calloused fingers found purchase in your hair and you couldn’t find it in yourself to care that it would completely ruin the updo you’d spent an hour styling. Your vision had tunneled to only him. He was the only thing that mattered right now.

When the two of you finally pulled away for air, panting and desperately running your hands over each other’s bodies, you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of your lipstick smudged all over your husband’s face.

“I don’t know if it’s your color,” you teased, wiping your hand across his mouth and chin with an amused twinkle in your eye.

Bob laughed in response, but his blue eyes grew darker with want as he gazed at you, your skin flushed and hot to the touch, your own eyes wide and dark with desire, the lipstick practically rubbed clean off your lips.

“Oh, Bob,” you whimpered quietly, leaning forward and pressing your lips to his neck. Two could play at the game he was playing. You peppered kisses up and down the column of his throat, what was left of your lipstick leaving a trail of seduction in your wake. As you moved down towards his collarbone, you realized you had even left a smudge of red on the collar of his crisp white uniform shirt.

Bob’s breathing was growing heavier, more strained, and as you pressed your body closer to his, you could feel how hard he was for you. But it wasn’t until you began sucking softly on the pulse point just beneath his jaw that a tortured groan burst forth from his lips, his grip on your body tightening as he lifted you from the vanity stool and carried you over to the bed, carefully laying you down so that your head was resting against the pillows.

His glasses were slightly askew, his chest rising and falling rapidly, the tent in the front of his uniform pants standing at attention as he gazed down at you with open and unabashed adoration.

You found yourself squeezing your legs together in anticipation as you stared back, your breath catching in your throat when he climbed on top of you, his nose nudging yours as he pressed your foreheads together, looking deeply into your eyes.

“Those were the longest three months of my life,” he rasped, his voice hoarse from both arousal and emotion.

“I know,” you whispered, reaching up to touch his cheek with gentle fingertips. It had been torture waking up to an empty bed every day these past few months. “But it’s over now. We’re together again. I’m right here.”

Bob nodded, tracing the outline of your face as if trying to convince himself that it was true. “You’re right here,” he repeated, dropping a soft, sweet kiss on your lips. He was quiet for a moment, then said, “And I need you so badly.”

Without further preamble, he began kissing his way down your body, paying particular attention to the spot you’d spent the better part of twenty minutes trying to mask earlier. It seemed you would just have to rock the hickey at this point—well, that or invest in a lot of turtlenecks.

You giggled softly as he kissed down your stomach, his light pecks tickling you even through your slip. But the laughter died in your throat the second he began pushing the chocolate-brown fabric up around your waist, his skilled fingers dipping inside the waistband of your stockings and ever so slowly dragging them down your legs.

Moaning softly, you tucked your chin and lowered your gaze to watch his every movement, noting the way he was careful with everything he did, making sure not to tear the fragile silk as he slid it off you, letting the light material flutter to the bedroom floor as he then focused his attention on the small scrap of material still hiding you from him, the brown silk that matched your slip.

He was careful, calculated in his every movement. He was taking his time with you. He was finally home, finally back where he belonged, and he wasn’t going to take a second of it for granted.

“Bobby,” you gasped softly, your back arching slightly as he began kissing his way up your leg, starting at your ankle. He repeated the same process on your other leg, tormenting you with his languorous movements. You could feel yourself growing soaked with need, burying your manicured fingers in his hair and tugging slightly to signify your impatience.

Bob chuckled lowly against your skin in response, the feel of it causing goosebumps to rise on your legs. His teeth scraped lightly along your inner thigh, and then he was soothing it with gentle kisses. His fingers began ghosting along the waistband of your silk underwear, the dark wet patch at your center only growing as you felt him so close to where you needed him.

“You’re so wet for me,” Bob breathed out, his breath warm against your core as his eyes widened behind his BCGs. You found it endearing, the way he said it. He always said it as if it was the most shocking discovery in the world. As if, even after all this time, he still couldn’t believe that he got you this aroused.

“Yes,” you nodded, reaching down to lightly touch his cheek. “You always get me like this. I need you, Bob.”

Your words lit a fire inside him and all at once he was pressing his face against your clothed core, breathing in your scent and allowing his tongue to gently tease you. You could feel him smiling against you when you let out a gasp of surprise, your hips bucking slightly at the feel of his mouth on you.

“I love you so much, sweetheart,” he whispered, pressing kisses to your hip as he firmly hooked his fingers inside the waistband of your panties and dragged them down your legs, tossing them so that they joined your abandoned stockings on the floor.

“Love you, love you,” you moaned as he pushed your legs open wider, settling himself comfortably on his stomach and getting to work.

Your husband’s tongue was a wondrous thing. The sweetest words dripped off it like honey, words that made you feel cherished and loved and known. It was a tongue that could take your breath away when he kissed you with it, those honeyed words still fresh in his mouth as he sought to communicate everything he couldn’t say with words alone. And it was a tongue that could make you fall apart and turn into a whimpering, writhing mess when he put it to use between your legs.

And right now, he was putting it to use.

“Bob! Oh, Bobby!” you cried out, drawing your knees up slightly as he licked a few firm stripes from your entrance up to that tiny bundle of nerves that he knew like the back of his hand. When you felt his hands come to rest on your hips, pressing them down into the mattress, you draped your hands over them, clinging to his fingers like an anchor.

He knew just what to do to get you going, just what to do to turn you on and make you feel like your body was singing. Half the time, you were convinced that he knew your body even better than you yourself did.

Right now, he was lazily tracing figure eights against you with his tongue, a warm-up for the intense pleasure that you knew was soon to follow. You continued to moan and whimper in pleasure, knowing that your husband loved it when he could hear how much you were enjoying yourself. Wanting to encourage him further, you removed one of your hands from his and pressed it against the back of his head, carding your fingers through his soft locks.

You were about to let out a noise of protest when he pulled back slightly, but it was quickly replaced with a sigh of gratification when he used the calloused pads of his fingers to spread you open, gathering your slick on his fingers and spreading it up and down. You could hear him sucking it into his mouth, a pleased hum rumbling from inside his chest, which only pushed you closer to the edge. This man was going to make you come and he had hardly even done anything yet.

“Taste so good, honey,” he mumbled against you, his midwestern drawl coming out thicker, which made you smile. That always happened when he was turned on.

Clearly he was starting to grow as impatient as you were because he dove back in, warm-ups forgotten, and wrapped his lips directly around your clit, sucking with all his might. When you cried out and arched up off the bed, he ran a soothing hand down your thigh, squeezing your flesh to keep you grounded. His glasses slid forward as he pressed his mouth more tightly to you, kissing and sucking and licking like his life depended on it.

You were completely incoherent at that point, reaching out to grip the bedsheets in white-knuckled fists as your husband brought you closer and closer to the brink of an orgasm. When he slipped two fingers inside you and began curling them gently, your mind went completely blank and you found yourself incapable of uttering any word other than his name.

It fell from your lips in an endless litany, your hips grinding against his mouth and your fingers digging sharply into his scalp. He didn’t mind in the slightest. In fact, your actions seemed to spur him on further, his fingers increasing their pace as his lips and tongue continued their joint attack on your most sensitive parts.

From the way he was gasping and moaning against you, you knew that he was turned on, too. That was another thing you found so incredibly endearing and so unbelievably sexy about your husband—he loved going down on you. There had been times when he had gotten off from that alone. And he was unapologetic about it.

“Just love the way you taste, sweetheart,” he often told you, a sheepish smile on his face as he pushed his glasses up his nose. “I love making you feel that good.”

Glancing downward, trying so hard to catch your breath, you realized that Bob was grinding his hips against the bed as he continued to devour you, and it nearly made you climax right then and there.

Between his ruined shirt and his soon to be ruined pants, you were going to have to get his dress blues to the dry cleaner ASAP.

“B-Bobby, baby, I’m close,” you keened, your eyes squeezing shut as the sensations of pleasure washed over you and coursed through your veins. “So close.”

Bob didn’t reply, just doubled down on his efforts, slipping a third finger inside you and circling your core with his tongue, not relenting until he felt your thighs begin to shake in that telltale way he recognized so well.

The white hot coil that had been tightening deep inside you was nearly at its breaking point, your cries of pleasure turning into breathy pants as you felt yourself teetering right on the edge, hardly able to breathe as your legs tensed up, trapping your husband between your thighs, just like he’d wanted. Both of your hands found purchase in his hair, your legs draped over his shoulders and your body bucking upward off the bed.

With a loud sob of his name, your orgasm exploded around you, stars dancing in your vision and your entire body trembling as the aftershocks coursed through you.

Bob held onto you tightly through it all, gently removing his mouth and his fingers as you became too sensitive, whimpering softly.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he whispered soothingly, collapsing beside you and taking you into his arms. “I’m right here,” he cooed, pressing gentle, tender kisses to your cheek, his fogged-up glasses bumping against your temple.

“Oh, Bobby,” you sighed happily, curling up against his chest and letting him hold you.

The two of you laid there like that for several minutes, lost in the haze of the afterglow. You didn’t speak. You didn’t need to.

Then suddenly Bob was shifting slightly, moving to get out of bed, which had you clinging to him.

“Don’t get up,” you begged, kissing along his jawline. “Let’s just stay in bed.”

Bob chuckled quietly, adjusting his glasses. “What about the Navy Ball that you were so adamant about getting to?”

“I changed my mind,” you grinned, running your fingers over the buttons on his shirt. “Besides,” you added with a wink, “you ruined my hair.”

He laughed loudly at that, pulling you towards him and dropping a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll be right back.” he promised you, giving you a few more quick pecks before climbing out of bed.

Sighing softly, you rolled onto your back and twirled a lock of hair that had come loose around your finger. You weren’t sure where your husband was going, but you realized he must have left his phone in another room when you suddenly heard his voice coming from the direction of the living room.

“Hey, Phoenix,” you heard him saying. Even from the bedroom, you could hear the blush in his voice, could imagine him sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. It made you smile. “Change of plans. We’re not going to be able to make it tonight.”

There was silence for a moment, and you could imagine his frontseater teasingly giving him hell for ditching when the rest of the squad was being forced to attend after just getting back home. You laughed softly.

“Yeah, tell everyone I’m sorry,” he replied, his voice getting closer. You sat up slightly when you heard Bob tell Phoenix that he thought you were coming down with something.

It was quiet again as Phoenix must have been saying something, and then Bob was back in the room, standing beside the bed and grinning down at you. “Yeah, I think she’s got a fever or something. She’s just burning up,” he said, winking at you.

Giggling softly, you picked up a pillow and whacked him in the leg with it.

“I’ll tell her. Thanks, Phoenix. Have fun tonight,” Bob told her before hanging up with a chuckle. “Phoenix says she hopes you feel better.”

“Robert Floyd!” you laughed, whacking him again. This time, however, he caught the pillow in both hands and used it to pull you closer to him.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I needed to find a quick excuse,” he grinned, kissing you softly. Pulling back, he took the pillow from you and dropped it onto the bed, crawling back in beside you. “Besides, I really do think you’re burning up,” he teased, pressing a hand to your forehead.

“Oh, yeah, I do think I’m coming down with something for sure. I feel hot all over,” you smirked, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I guess you’ll just have to stay in bed all night,” Bob mused, his blue eyes twinkling behind his glasses. “As your husband, I think it’s only right that I stay, too, to take care of you.”

“Mmm, yes, I think that sounds like a very wise plan indeed,” you nodded sagely. “But, you know, you might as well get comfortable and take off all these clothes,” you went on, fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.

“Excellent point, sweetheart,” he replied, the two of you finally dissolving into a fit of laughter as you helped him strip out of his uniform and throw it to the floor, joining the pile with your previously discarded clothing.

The two of you spent all of that evening, and most of the following morning, in bed. It was just what the doctor ordered.

And when Phoenix texted you the following afternoon to see how you were doing, you were pleased to tell her that you were feeling much better.

[ereardon]

Before I Knew [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter Thirteen

A Jake Seresin unexpected pregnancy fic

Overview: On your first night after moving to San Diego to spend more time with your brother Bob, you unknowingly have a one night stand with his teammate Jake Seresin. For the first time in his whole life, Bob has a closely knit friend group and you’re desperate not to rock the boat. But an unexpected and unplanned pregnancy upends your world, forcing you and Jake closer together, against Bob’s wishes. What will happen when you find yourself actually falling for the father of your unborn child? 

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader; Bob Floyd x Sister!Reader 

Warnings: Pregnancy, cursing, eventual smut, angst

Chapter summary: Ducky goes on a date; Jake and Ducky come to an understanding, before everything becomes complicated again

WC: 2.4K

Masterlist here; previous chapter here

It happened when you least expected it. You were at the grocery store, reaching for the top shelf, when a hand appeared from behind, plucking the jar of salsa you had been wiggling your fingers at. 

You turned, looking up at an insanely gorgeous guy. He was tall, but not too tall, still under six foot, with a sleeve of tattoos and a layer of dark stubble over his cut jawline. He grinned, handing you the salsa jar. “Here you go, sweetheart.” 

You smiled, placing it in your cart. Salsa Guy kept his eyes on you, just the two of you in the aisle alone close to nine o’clock at night. “Thank you.” 

He looked down at your cart. Chips and salsa, a pack of Twizzlers, a container of stuffed olives, a bar of white chocolate, three apples, a pack of ginger beer. “Someone has a good night planned,” he said with a grin. 

“Oh, you know, cravings.” It came out automatically. But once you realized, you looked up and gulped. Here was a cute guy who had probably been hitting on you, and had failed to see the enormous baby bump hidden behind the handles of the cart.

His dark brown eyes gave you a quick once over. At twenty two weeks, you were pregnant. It was obvious by now. No matter how flowy the dress, there was a little bump there. Your fingertips gripped the cart handlebar tighter. 

“Sorry, I, uh, should get going.” You were just about to turn the cart around when his voice stopped you.

“How about you let me take you out for a real meal.” You looked up in surprise. He shrugged. “Unless you’re involved?” 

“Um, no, I—” You faltered. 

He tilted his head. “No to dinner,” he said slowly, “or no you’re not involved with anyone?” 

You straightened. “No, I’m not involved.” 

He held out a business card. Phillip Walker. You cocked your head to the side. Attorney. Since when did attorneys have sleeve tattoos? “Can I ask your name, before we go to dinner?” 

You smiled. “Y/N.” 

“Let me get that for you,” he said, steering the cart down the aisle. 

“Wait, you were serious?” you asked. “You want to go to dinner now?” It was almost nine thirty. Your bedtime. 

Phillip nodded. “I would.” 

You paused at the end of the aisle before the rows of cashiers. “Um, Phillip?” 

“Yes?” 

“You know I’m pregnant, right?” 

He laughed. It was low and rumbling. He nodded. “Yes, doll, I can see that.” 

“Is this some kind of kink thing?” you whispered. 

His eyes went wide. “No?” 

You frowned. “Alright. Well, free dinner, I guess I’d have to be insane to say no.” 

Phillip grinned. “Your pick then.” 

“I know just the place.” 

You and Phillip ended up eating tacos from a food truck near the beach, sitting with your feet hanging off the side of a picnic table as the waves crashed against the shore in the darkness. Phillip was funny, a dry humor that caught you off guard at first. He was an immigration attorney, just turned twenty seven, and his mother was born in Venezuela. 

After you finished your final taco, four in total but who was counting, Phillip turned to you. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure.” 

“The guy,” he said. “Is he in the picture?” 

Phillip was the first person you had really talked to, let alone gone out with, since everything that had happened with Jake. You weren’t sure what to say. He was your roommate? Your friend? Your brother’s coworker? 

Was he anything? 

Sometimes it felt like Jake was a stranger. And other times it felt like he was the only thing you had. And yet, you still didn’t know what to say about him. 

“We’re not involved,” you replied after a moment. “But we’re friendly.” You paused. “He and my brother work together.” 

“Ah. Sounds complicated.” 

“I am a complicated woman.” 

“Who also likes white chocolate and nacho flavored Doritos.” 

“Everyone likes Doritos!” 

“Cool Ranch forever,” he replied and you tipped your head back in a laugh. Phillip leaned over, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re beautiful when you laugh.” 

“Thank you.” It was a whisper. Suddenly the sound of the sea, the waves crashing loudly against the shore, was dulled by the sound of your heart beating in your chest. 

“I’d like to kiss you,” Phillip whispered, one of his hands pressed against the table behind your seat, the other still lingering against your jaw. 

“I probably taste like tacos.” 

“You’re in luck,” he murmured, “cause I love tacos.” 

And then his lips were on yours. He was a good kisser – firm, but not hard, no tongue at first, and he smelled like a woodsy cologne that transported your mind to a lush forest. For a moment, you felt yourself melt into the kiss. There was something so lustful about being wanted. 

It wasn’t until after, when Phillip pulled back and your eyes fluttered open, that the heart sinking realization kicked in. 

Was this the last time someone was going to kiss you like this? With expectation, with the unknown hanging out in the abyss. Soon, you’d be a mother. Soon, you’d belong to someone else. And nothing would ever be as easy as it was in that very moment. 

“I’m tired,” you whispered. “I should be getting home.” 

“Of course.” Phillip leaned back, stepping off the picnic table and holding out his hand. “I can drive you home in your car, and I’ll get an Uber back to mine.” 

“Are you sure?” you asked. “That’s a hassle.” 

“I’m sure.” He held open the door and you took a seat in the passenger seat. It felt like a different world, just ten inches from where you usually sat. You turned as Phillip slid into the driver’s seat. 

Everything felt different. 

He set down the bag of groceries next to the door and straightened. “I’m really glad I went to the store for toothpaste tonight,” Phillip said. 

You frowned. “Did you forget to buy the toothpaste?” 

He nodded and you laughed. “Yes, yes I did.” 

“I’m glad we met, too.” 

“Can I see you again?” he asked. 

“Are you sure you want to?” 

“I’m positive.” 

“Here.” You pulled out a pen and scribbled your number on his card, handing it back to him. “Call me.” 

“I will.” He waited until you had opened the door to the apartment before turning and walking down the hallway. 

You set the bag of groceries on the counter before a voice behind you burst out into the silence. “Who was that?” 

You whipped around. Jake was wearing a Naval Academy sweatshirt and a pair of boxers, tall socks pulled up around his bony ankles. “Fuck, you scared the shit out of me.” 

“It’s midnight, Y/N. Where have you been?” 

You rolled your eyes. “You’re not my father.” 

“Someone has to be looking out for you.” 

“You and Bobby, you’re the fucking same,” you spat back. 

Jake squinted. “Is that how you see me?” he asked. 

“Right now, yeah, it is.” You shook your head and started to unload the groceries. “Just some guy I met at the grocery store. He helped me reach the salsa.” 

“You left three hours ago.” 

“Jake, it’s late.” You turned, one hand on your hip. In the bright light of the kitchen, you had a sudden glimpse of the future. Standing in a kitchen, rolling your eyes at your husband. But then you blinked, and it was just Jake, standing in front of you in a pair of almost too-tight boxers. “Ask the real questions you want answers to.” 

“Did you fuck him?” 

“Did you fuck the redhead from the bar?” you spat back. 

Jake went ghost white. 

“I said ask questions you want the answers to,” you replied. “And for your information, no, I didn’t whore it out for a bottle of salsa in the back of a pickup truck. That kind of naiveté ended about five months ago.” You pressed one hand against your tight stomach and rubbed a gentle circle. “What do we owe each other, Jake?” 

He stepped closer. “I know you don’t want to be with me,” he whispered. “And maybe you don’t really even like me. But we’re stuck together, Y/N. For better or for worse, we’re having a baby together. So I guess what I’m saying is we owe each other the truth.” 

“You want the truth?” you asked. He nodded. “The truth is, I don’t know who I am anymore. Because in four plus months, I’m going to be a mom. And that scares the shit out of me.” 

“I’m here,” Jake said. “I’m going to help. You’re not alone in this.” 

“How can I trust you when I don’t even know you?” 

“Well you haven’t really tried, now have you?” A bit of his Texan accent slipped out. It was small but it was there. A twang at the end of the sentence. 

“You’re right.” 

“That’s the first time you’ve ever said that.” He grinned. 

“Don’t get used to it.” 

“I’m trying here,” Jake said. “I want to do what’s best for you. And for the baby.” 

“What about what’s best for you?” 

He shrugged. “What’s best for you is best for me. Happy wife, happy life, right?” 

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not your wife, Hangman.” 

“Do me a favor.” 

“I’m carrying your enormous child, and you want another favor?” 

“Don’t call me Hangman, OK?” 

You frowned. “Alright, I won’t.” 

“I can be Hangman at work. But with you, I want to be Jake.” 

“OK.” A silence enveloped the room and for the first time in a long time, you felt at ease with Jake. “Well, Jake, I’m going to go to bed. I’m exhausted.” 

You shuffled off to the side of the kitchen toward the bedrooms. Jake’s hand reached out, fingertips curling around your wrist. You looked up. “I didn’t get to tell you before, so I’ll tell you now. I’m really happy it’s a girl.” 

You smiled. “Yeah, me too. Little boys' clothes suck.” 

Jake grinned. “Goodnight, Y/N.” 

“Goodnight, Jake.” 

***

Jake was sixteen the first time he held his niece in his arms. His older sister Mary had gotten married young, and immediately had a baby. 

Kirsten was tiny, shriveled little fingertips, a nose that barely protruded from her face, almost no hair to speak of. 

And yet, something changed in that moment. He felt his world flip upside down. For the first time in his life, he knew what it was like to hold someone’s life in his hand and know that he would lay down his life for that person. 

Kirsten was thirteen now. At age eight, she asked Jake to be her show and tell item for school, and he took off a long weekend to go back to Texas to tell her class what it was like to be an aviator. And even though all that time had passed and she had grown up, sometimes Jake still looked at her and saw the newborn balanced perfectly in his scrawny arms. 

***

Your second date with Patrick created even more mixed emotions. 

On one hand, he was beautiful and successful, dynamic and smart. On the other hand, you still had a lump in the back of your throat that some random man would want to date a pregnant woman. 

“It’s weird, right?” you said. Phoenix paused for a beat and you frowned, your fingertips gripping the steering wheel tighter. You had opted to drive yourself home from the restaurant, giving Patrick a kiss before he asked that you texted him when you got home. 

“It’s a little weird,” she replied, her voice crackling through the car speakerphone. “But not unheard of.” 

“It’s a porn category,” you argued. 

She laughed. “OK but so is girl on girl. Doesn’t make it a fetish. He might just genuinely be a good enough guy to be OK with it.” 

You flicked the turn signal, waiting for the light to turn green before taking a left into the apartment complex parking lot and switching the call back to your phone. “I guess,” you said. “I don’t know.” 

“Do you like him?” 

“Yeah, I do,” you replied, locking the car and stepping into the lobby. “It’s just kind of weird. Everything is weird right now.” 

“It’s uncharted territory,” Phoenix said. “Just take a shower, get in your pajamas and watch Young Sheldon.” 

“God, a perfect night,” you said. “Alright, I’m home. I’ll see you tomorrow for the party?” Coyote was having a house party for his new condo, and you and Phoenix had made plans to go. 

“I’ll pick you up at nine.” She hung up as you opened the apartment door. 

It was quiet, but there was a light on in the hallway. “Jake?” you called out, setting your purse down. “Are you home?” 

“In here!” You rounded the corner into your bedroom. Jake looked up. “Surprise.” 

You gasped. A brand new white crib sat in the corner, the one you had gawked at in a Pottery Barn catalog and then promptly flipped the page when you spotted the price tag. There was also the matching dresser, with a changing table on top. 

“Oh my God,” you whispered. 

Jake stood up, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Sorry, just finished building it, still have to clean up.” 

“You did all of this?” 

“Well we needed a crib. Oh and look.” He stepped over to the dresser and pulled open the first drawer to reveal a perfect line of folded onesies. “My mom sent them. Look at this one.” He tugged one out and held it up. 

It was a Naval Academy onesie. 

Jake grinned. “Great, right?” 

“I can’t believe you did this,” you whispered. 

“No big deal. Besides, we needed a nursery. Maybe once we move into a house we’ll have a spare bedroom, and—”

You held up one hand. “A house? Since when are we moving into a house?” 

Jake looked around slowly. “I mean, it’s just the next step, right? This apartment is OK for now, but when the baby gets here it’s going to get crowded.” 

You crossed your hands over your chest. “I thought this was temporary,” you replied. “I needed a place to stay to get away from Bobby. But this.” You swooped your hand out toward the crib and dresser. “This is feeling very real.” Your pulse started to race. 

Jake frowned. “What are you saying?” he asked. “You don’t want to continue to live together once the baby is born?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Please follow my library page @ereardonlibrary as that will largely serve as my tag list. Anyone I previous promised to tag is here:

@blue-aconite @withahappyrefrain @wkndwlff @djs8891 @clancycucumber230 @gigisimsonmars @xomrsalliej4787xo @myfaveficrecs @mycobrakai1972 @sio-ina-bottle @joaquinwhorres @justanothermagicalsara @je-suis-prest-rachel @shanimallina87

@rosiahills22 @buckysteveloki-me  @kmc1989 @eloquentdreamer @mjisbby @seresinslady @seresinhangmanjake @blackwidownat2814 @bbyvanessaa  @mrsjobarnes @midnightmagpiemama @ingoaliesitrust @rockbottomphilosophies-blog @iangiemae @boiolay @sometimesanalice @na-ta-sh-aa @bobfloydsbabe @kmc1989 @rosiahills22 @palepeanutponyshoe @onceupona-happilyeverafter-love @mel119g @daggerspare-standingby @grxcisxhy-wp @mrsjobarnes @csmt-m @rockbottompunk-blog @joaquinwhorres @xoxabs88xox @spinning-away @bobfloydsbabe

[justmystyles]

Now You're In My Life- Part 2

part 1 here

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

word count: 3.8k

summary: a chance meeting at a diner turns your world upside-down.

warnings: some curse words, but other than that it's tame.

a/n: i definitely didn't expect to have part 2 done so quickly, but this story is just flowing out of me. thank you so much for all of the likes and comments from part 1. i honestly didn't even expect anyone to read it. 🥰

already planning on a part 3. i think after that it becomes more of a collection of one shots than a straight storyline. but you know i had to set it up all nice and cute.

i say it's a plus size reader, while i don't focus a lot on that aspect (because your size should not define you), it will come up, so i just wanted to be upfront about it.

a quick tag for those of you that asked for part 2, so you don't miss it! @thechaoticjoy @cute-as-ducks420 @iceebabies

As the opening notes of Golden began to play, the screams from the crowd quickly came to a  crescendo. Before long, Harry was being lifted up from the stage floor. As he moved around the stage, guitar strapped around him, it looked like he was searching for something… or someone. 

Then his eyes landed on you, and your breath hitched. He was looking for you. His smile widened, and he shot you a wink before moving to his microphone stand. You watched with rapt attention, bobbing your head slightly and mouthing along to the words. 

The show went on, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of Harry. It seemed as though he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you either. They would move in your direction frequently, it seemed particularly calculated during a couple of lyrics. Especially when he was singing ‘What Makes You Beautiful’. You had never listened to One Direction, so you weren’t familiar with the song. You knew you had heard it around before, but that was the extent. Even still, the butterflies that had taken up residence in your stomach tonight were going positively wild throughout that entire song, feeling as though Harry was singing directly to you. 

At one point, while he was speaking to the crowd and reading signs, he turned to your direction, locking eyes with you before asking if everything was okay, and offering a questioning thumbs up. You smiled back shyly, offering a thumbs up in affirmation. 

“Then why aren’t you dancing around and screaming your head off?” He asked with an arched brow. 

Your eyes went wide, recognizing your comments from that morning being repeated to you.

By Harry. 

Onstage. 

In front of thousands of people. 

Despite the house lights being down, you were certain that he could see the bright red blush that spread across your cheeks. You immediately buried your face in your hands. He laughed and frolicked away, continuing the show. 

“Thank you Boston!” He shouted before placing his microphone back on the stand. He bowed and waved, blowing a few kisses along the way. As he moved up the runway in your direction, he locked eyes with you again, lifting his hand to his mouth and blowing a kiss directly at you. Your eyes dropped to your feet, feeling your cheeks heat again. 

You jumped slightly when you felt a hand on your shoulder, you spun around wide eyed to see Jeff looking at you apologetically. 

“Sorry Y/N, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just coming over to bring you backstage.” 

“Backstage?” 

“Yeah, to see Harry?” He said with a question in his tone, as if you should have known this was part of the plan.

“Oh… right.” You nodded and followed behind as Jeff led you to the backstage area. 

As you walked through the space, you saw the hustle and bustle that came with the post-show rush. It was fun to see, you had closed out many clubs, watching bands and roadies break down, but to see it at this extent was infinitely more fascinating. 

Jeff stopped in front of a closed door, a sign with Harry’s name hanging on the front. He opened the door and signaled with his hand for you to walk in. As your eyes traveled the space, you noticed a couch, across from a mirrored counter and directors chair. A large wardrobe was set up against the wall. You were in Harry’s dressing room. 

“He’s just taking care of a couple of things. Make yourself comfortable, and he’ll be right in.” Jeff said with a smile before leaving you alone. 

In Harry Styles’s dressing room. 

You step over to the wardrobe, looking through the outfits, admiring the sparkle and flair of his stage clothes. You realized you’d probably look creepy if he walked in and saw you going through his clothes, so you moved to the couch, taking a seat and fiddling with the feathers that adorned your shoulders, thanks to Harry. 

The sound of the door opening pulled your attention, and you stood to your spot on the couch, taking a deep breath as Harry stepped over the threshold. His eyes caught yours instantly, and his smile widened. 

Once the door was closed, he stepped up to you. “I knew it.” You give him a confused look. “The black definitely suits you.” He grabs the ends of the boa, wiggling them back and forth. You chuckle, and swat his hands away. 

His eyes meet yours again. “So, what did you think of the show?”

You purse your lips, raising an eyebrow pretending to be deep in thought. “I definitely got my money’s worth.” You joke. 

Harry furrows his brow. “But you didn’t pay any money.” 

“I know,” you smirk. 

���Just as cheeky as this morning.” He chuckles. 

“It was an amazing show, Harry. I was truly blown away. Thank you so much for the invitation.” 

“Thank you so much for coming. I wasn’t sure you would.” 

There was a brief silence as you stared into each other’s eyes. You felt an electricity between you two, but you brushed it off as post-show adrenaline. 

“I should probably go, I’m sure you’ve g-”

“No,” Harry interrupted you. “I’d like you to stay, if you can.” He looked at you with hopeful eyes.

You had told yourself that you would need to kill time to avoid crowds on the train. “Well, I suppose sitting backstage with an international superstar beats drinking alone at Banners.” You shrug. 

“Do you want a drink? I can get you a drink.” Harry offered. 

You chuckled at how quickly the words spilled out of him. If it had been anyone else, you would have thought it was out of nerves, or desperation to keep you there. “I’m good. The drink was just to kill time, I can just kill time talking to you instead.” 

Harry wiped an imaginary tear from his eye and pouted at you. “That may be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.” You laughed, and he smiled. “You have a lovely laugh.” He said, his expression turning more serious. 

“Oh… uh thanks.” You mumble, taken off guard by the earnest comment. 

“Wait right here,” he placed his hands on your shoulders as if to lock you into your spot. “I’m just going to run and change real quick.” He grabbed a pile of clothes off the counter and moved toward the bathroom. He paused in the doorway and turned back around to face you. “Seriously, I’ll be right back. Don’t move.” 

You dropped your hands to your side, standing perfectly straight and nodding your head solemnly. He smiled and shook his head before stepping into the bathroom. 

“What do we think?” He stepped out of the bathroom with a flourish, showing off his hoodie and sweatpants. He spun around before hitting a pose, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You chuckled and applauded. “Very nice. Soooo haute couture.” 

Harry joined in the laughter and led you to the couch. You took a seat on one end, and Harry took a seat beside you, your thighs grazing ever so slightly. The contact sending a shiver up your spine. 

“So, you enjoyed the show?” 

“Ahh, that’s why you asked me to stay.” You nodded expectantly. “You needed someone to tell you how amazing you are.” 

“No, no no no, I swear!” He insisted. Pausing with an arched brow. “Wait, you think I’m amazing?” 

“Ugh,” you groaned, rolling your eyes.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologized. “Honestly, I just wanted to talk. Maybe get to know you a little.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Me? But why?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know, I saw you this morning, you were dressed all proper and business-like, but then I saw that,” he tapped your lip ring. “And I just said to myself ‘I need to know her’.” 

You feel that familiar heat rush your cheeks again and you drop your gaze, staring at your hands, which were sitting in your lap.

“So far, I know that you have an impeccable fashion sense, and you're quite adorable when you blush.” He leans to the side, bumping his shoulder against yours. “But I know there’s more in there, and I plan on finding it.” 

Your nerves are at an all time high, you don’t understand why he’s so desperate to know you. You’re nobody. But you feel strangely at ease, like you want to open up to him. The two of you talk for hours, though it seems like no time has passed. You talk about your families, you tell him about your job, and your hobbies.

“Wait a minute,” he stops you as you’re telling him about the dance studio you’ve been attending since you were three. “You’ve been taking dance lessons for nearly thirty years and all you did out there tonight was nod your head politely?” 

“I don’t dance,” you shrug. 

He looked at you curiously. “So you’ve just been going to this studio for thirty years to press play on music so other people can dance?” 

“No, I mean I don’t like,” you wave your hand trying to come up with the words. “When there’s choreography, I’m fine. If you just play music and tell me to dance, it’s not going to happen.” 

Harry smirked. “I’m going to take that as a personal challenge.” You roll your eyes, but deep down, his words excite you. “So, if you go to a wedding or something, you don’t dance?” You shake your head. “Not even a slow dance?” 

“No, I like to slow dance. My last boyfriend, whenever we went to a wedding, he would allow me one slow dance.” 

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. “Only one? He didn’t want to take every possible opportunity to hold you as close as possible?” His tone had darkened, almost as if he were picturing the two of you pressed together. His words definitely made you think about it. 

“Nope, guess not. Probably one of the reasons we broke up.” You shrug. 

He could tell that bringing up your ex made you uncomfortable, so he quickly redirected. “So do you ever do the choreographed dancing in public?”

“Yeah, we uh… I have a dance recital every May. But my mom’s the only one that I ever let come.” 

One thing Harry noticed as he got to know you was that you seemed to keep most people at a distance, you put up walls. He could see it in the way you spoke with him. You used humor and sarcasm to avoid letting people in. Harry included. But he was determined to knock that wall down. 

As you two continued to talk, he would intently to everything you said, asking questions to get as much information as he possibly could. 

You eventually ended up talking about music, you told him about the artists you listen to, the ones that everyone knows you listen to, you had also mentioned that you had a sizable collection of guilty pleasures that you kept to yourself. 

“Okay, so tell me one artist on your guilty pleasure list.” Harry goaded.

“Yeah right!” She scoffed. “I just met you.” 

“C’mon pleeeeeaaaaaasssseee,” he begged, widening his eyes and giving you a childlike grin. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his desperation. 

“Fine,” you acquiesce. “But just one.”

He smirks with excitement, reaching for his water bottle and raising it to his lips as he watched you intently.  

“Harry. Styles.”

Harry chokes on his sip of water, covering his mouth with his hand to stop himself from spitting all over you. Your eyes go wide, afraid you may have just killed an international pop sensation. You pat his back as he coughs more. 

“Jeeze, I’m sorry,” you say in a panic. “It wasn’t even that funny!” 

He waves his hand in front of his face as the coughing subsides. “I’m fine, I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting that.” He said, his voice raspy. You imagine that’s how he would sound first thing in the morning. You quickly shook off the impossible thought, and turned your attention back to him. “So, if I’m one of your guilty pleasures,” he enunciated the term and winked at you. “Does that mean you’re not going to tell anyone about tonight?” 

“Like anyone would even believe me,” you scoffed. 

“We can make sure they do.” He holds his hand out. “Phone, please.” 

You look at him curiously, but hand over your phone as requested. He swipes up, quickly turning the screen to face you. Once your FaceID registers and the phone unlocks, he taps the camera icon and holds the phone up. 

His free arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you close. You inhale his scent and sigh, even though he just spent an hour sweating onstage, he smelled amazing. You wanted to make that scent into a candle. He pressed his cheek against yours. “Smile!” He said, displaying that wide, childlike smile once again before snapping a picture of the two of you. 

When he was done taking the picture, he pulled away. You were so disappointed in the lack of contact that you didn’t notice Harry tapping away at your phone. 

“There,” Harry’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You looked down, and he was handing your phone back. “Not only do you now have your very own Harry selfie, but I texted it to myself, so now we have each other’s numbers.” 

You smile at him, okay he’s definitely hitting on you. How did you even get here? You look down at the phone and your eyes go wide. “Shit!” 

“Are you alright? If you don’t want my number you can delete it I-” 

“No, sorry.” You interrupted him, you definitely wanted his number. You’d never have the guts to actually use it, but it would be nice to look at to remember tonight. “I just realized the time. I missed the last train! Shit, I’m going to have to take an Uber back to my car.”

“No you won’t,” Harry placed an arm on your shoulder to calm you down, it worked. “I have a car to take me to the hotel. We can just take a little detour and bring you to your car.” 

“But it’s so out of the way for you, I don’t want to put you out.”

“Nonsense.” He stood, extending a hand to help you off the couch. When you placed your hand in his, a spark of electricity ran through you. It was as if your hands were made to fit together. 

“Well, thanks.” You shrug, looking down and realizing you’re still wearing the boa. “Oh here, this is yours.” You place your hands on either side, but Harry’s hands are on yours before you can lift it off. 

“Keep it,” he smiled. “It looks better on you anyway.” 

Your eyes drop to the ground again, Harry places his index finger under your chin lifting your gaze to meet his. “You look down too much, Y/N. Your eyes are too beautiful to hide from the world.” 

You saw his eyes flicker down to your lips briefly, causing your breath to hitch. A knock on the door startled you apart. “H, the venue is kicking us out. We’ve gotta go.” 

Harry opens the door, holding it for you, he bows to you and signals out the door. “M’lady.” You step out of the dressing room and into the hallway. 

You spent the thirty minute ride to your car chatting away with Harry in the back of the SVU that had been hired to chauffeur him around. It was almost three in the morning, you knew you should be tired, but you didn’t feel it at all. You were just savoring every second you got to spend with Harry. 

You arrived at the parking garage that housed your car, the SUV pulled up to the gate. You took a deep breath and turned to Harry. “Well, thanks again.” You began the goodbye you had dreaded since the second he stepped into the dressing room. 

“Nope, not done yet.” He shook his head. “What kind of gentleman would I be to let a lady wander a dark parking garage at all hours of the morning?” He hopped out of the car and ran around, opening your door for you. 

You stepped out, and he walked with you into the payment vestibule. You pull the ticket from your wallet and hand it to the attendant. You notice Harry reaching for something out of the corner of your eye. 

“Eight fifty,” the attendant announces. 

You reach into your wallet, but Harry beats you to it, handing over his credit card. 

“Harry, what are you-”

“I invited you out, you shouldn’t have to pay for a thing.” He said as he signed the receipt and returned the card to his wallet. 

“Okay, but I did have to pay for my train ride.” 

“I guess I owe you, then,” he smirked as he led you into the garage. 

You lead him to your car, clicking on the key to unlock it. “That’s me.” You stand by the driver’s side door, Harry comes up beside you, placing one hand on the window and leaning down to stare into your eyes. “I had a lot of fun tonight Harry, really. Thank you so much.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” he smiled. Then his face started moving closer to yours.

Your nerves got the best of you, and you pulled your head back. “Wha- what are you doing?” You stutter. 

“I’m kissing you.” He responds simply. 

“Why?” 

“Because you’re beautiful, and I really enjoyed getting to know you tonight.” He studied your face. He looked so deeply into your eyes that you swore he was looking straight into your soul. “And if we’re being honest, I think you want to kiss me too.” 

“But I… what… I…”

“Y/N, do you want to kiss me?” He asks.

“Yes, very much I do.” You nod.

“Then stop overthinking it, and let it happen.” 

While still leaning on the car with one hand, the other reached up and cupped your cheek. You shivered slightly, you couldn’t tell if it was from the cold metal of his rings against your face, or the intensity of the moment, Maybe both. 

Finally, his lips met yours. The kiss was tentative at first, but as your hands wrapped around his neck, you felt his tongue slide across the seam of your lips, pausing to play with the lip ring on your left side. You quickly granted him access. Your tongues took a moment, slowly exploring each other’s mouths. 

This was something you had both thought about since you first locked eyes this morning, and you wished it would never end. Unfortunately, after a few moments, you pull apart for air. Your eyes remained closed as your foreheads pressed together, his hand still cupping your cheek. 

“Wow,” you breathed out. 

“Yeah, definitely wow.” He said with a chuckle. 

“Goodnight, Harry.” 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” His thumb stroked your jawline softly. “You have my number, please use it?” 

You nod, so overwhelmed by the moment that you were unable to speak. Reluctantly, he steps back. You sigh, instantly missing the warmth of his body against yours. He places his hand on the door handle, opening it for you.

You get into the car and buckle your seatbelt as he closes the door. You start the car and put it in reverse. Harry backs away, smiling at you softly. Before you can take your foot off the break, you come up with a way to spend another few moments with him. It’s not much, but you’ll take all the time you can get. You roll down the window and he looks at you curiously. 

“You know, it’s late. You probably shouldn’t just be wandering around a dark parking garage by yourself.” You say, followed by the clicking of the door locks. “Get in, I’ll drive you back to your car.” 

Harry smiles, that smile. At that moment you realize just how much trouble you’re in. When he smiles at you like that, you are  putty in his hands. He runs around to the passengers side and hops in. 

“Drive slow.” He says as he closes the door. 

You chuckle and back out of your parking spot. As your car moves at a crawl through the garage, you notice out of the corner of your eye that Harry’s gaze never leaves your face, 

“What are you even looking at?” You ask. 

“You have a lovely profile.” He sees your face scrunch at the compliment. “I mean it,” he laughs defensively. “You’ve got that cute little nose, and those pouty lips.” 

“They’re probably extra pouty right now.” You say, alluding to the kiss you two had just shared.

“Do you regret it?” 

“Not at all. You?” 

“Nope,” he pops the ‘p’ sound. “Thinking about how much I want to do it again, actually.” 

You instinctively pull your bottom lip in between your teeth as you begin to blush again.

“Mmm,” Harry groans. “You’re not playing fair, Y/N.”

As you reach the gate at the front of the garage, you scan your payment receipt. The barricade lifts and you drive out, pulling up beside Harry’s ride. 

“Well,” you sigh. “I think we’ve officially put it off as long as we can. This is where we part ways.” You turn to face him, your heart sinking at the thought of parting. 

Harry leans across the console, pulling you into another kiss. You savor every second of his lips on yours, knowing that he’s off to a new city in the morning, and you likely won’t see him again for a very long time.

You separate, and he looks deeply into your eyes again. “Get home safely, yeah?”

You nod. “You too, I mean tour safely, I guess.” You shrug, silently chiding yourself for your stupid response.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He says with a sad smile. 

“Goodnight, Harry.” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you try to control your emotions. 

You watch as he gets out of your car, and opens the backseat door of his SUV. He waves one more time before getting inside. As the car drives off, you follow behind it toward the exit. His car moves to the right lane, yours to the left, preparing to go your separate ways. You notice the back window roll down, Harry waves at you one last time as his car takes the right turn. You watch it until it is out of your sight. Once your light turns green, you put your foot on the gas and head home, returning to real life. 

Your life without Harry. 

[horseshoegirl]

Set Me Alight: Part 7 - Paint It, Black

📜Life is messy. And complicated. And writer blocky, with a dash of imposter syndrome... I just want to put that out there... Anyway...

Well, the poll won out. You all want to know what Jake said to Midge. This is solely a flashback chapter. I can't say I'm surprised at who you all disliked in the last chapter, though I hope this one will give you some insight into why Midge has held on to this for as long as she has.

Special thank you to @teacupsandtopgun for helping me to write a certain part of this! You can thank her for the puns! And @sarahsmi13s for taking a peak at it!

❗️+18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character (s), Short OFC, Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, flashbacks, Halloween college parties, school, angst, sexual themes (overhearing), drunkness/inxotication. I mentioned angst, right? 💀

#8k <- yes, i know

Part 6 | Masterlist | Part 8

*Halloween Four Years Ago*

Giving orders to a football team to put up Halloween directions was not an easy feat. They were kids in a joke shop, only too happy to take every opportunity to jump-scare each other with a spider, a white sheet or slide out from behind a door and shout boo! 

Despite the antics, you were grateful for the help. Nat and you wouldn’t have finished in time. And even then, you suspected Nat probably would have given up halfway through, merely deciding to throw Yellow Caution Tape on the walls and call it a day. 

You wouldn’t have stopped - even if it became a doomed effort. 

Bradley’s friends weren’t what you expected them to be. True, their appearance fit the bill a thousand times over. Tall, broad shoulders and bulging muscles were all the product of hard work - including Bob, who was smaller than the rest, though not by much.  Even their mannerisms, from how they acted childish and goofy to how they winked or playfully flirted, everything you saw played into the stereotypical type that was the classic college football jock. 

Then you got to know them—really know them—and hated yourself for ever associating them as such. 

You already knew Bradley and had met him on occasion. When he stayed over to be with Nat, he was often up before you, and you’d chat with him over a cup of coffee. He always brought her a cup to wake her up when he could, and it always made you smile. 

His story was a sad one. His father passed away when he was only two years old, leaving his mom to raise him alone. While he couldn’t regale you with his memories of him, he instead offered you the stories attached to his father’s things: a button-up Hawaiian shirt in pale pastels, a pair of coffee-brown Ray Ban sunglasses, and even a worn Milk chocolate leather-strapped bag he used to lug his books around campus. 

Then, his mom passed away in high school, and his father’s best friend took him up until the point decided to leave for school. Bradley chose his words carefully when he spoke of any of them, offering little, and you wondered if the loss was still too much for him to bear. 

Or something else had happened, and he didn’t want anyone to know. 

 But as you helped him blow up a few balloons for the floor, a song from a later decade played through the speakers, and Bradley lit up, producing a smile wider than the nearby Jack-o-lantern. He launched into a story about how much his parents loved music and how his father would play the piano, which alone made him want to learn. 

You asked him if and when he did if he’d play for you one day.

Javy Machado, however, couldn’t be more different from Bradley if he tried.

He was just as meticulous as you when it came to detail. The two of you were discussing the best way to tape Velcro to the kitchen cupboards to stick fluff to the sides and mimic cobwebs when you discovered this fact. He was … quietly smooth and persuasive, with a suave smile that indicated he could charm his way into or out of any situation he wanted without needing to flirt or play it thick. 

“Angle it like this, Maeve,” he had explained, stretching the piece out. “Principle of maximum contact area equals maximum adhesive stretch.” 

You had raised your eyebrows at that remark, which prompted him to chuckle softly. 

"Science major," he shrugged with that smile, making your internal monologue stutter to a halt until you went, "Wait... What?!" 

He only laughed at your reaction, amused in a way like he’d been expecting it. But it was that look of genuine interest in his eyes that made you ask him properly. 

He didn't know what field of science to specialize in, but Javy made all of it sound amazing. From stars to not dirt—it's soil—to understanding how the world worked, he knew he wanted to spend his life trying to figure it all out. If he could throw a ball around and be part of a team with his friends, he considered himself fortunate to do both. 

Even if his passion was so far removed from your own, you may have seen some of yourself in his journey, trying to fit in while doing what you loved most. 

Holding up a string of lights against the wall, Reuben Flitch told you he was floating through school, waiting for the day he could finally be free. On that day, he’d take over his family’s business. Comparing him to the fractured story of your brother and sister following in your parent’s footsteps never seemed to cross your mind. 

Because when you asked what the business was, his face lit up with an enthusiasm you hadn’t expected. 

“My grandparents own vineyards," he had beamed. "They've been in the family for generations. I've grown up with the land, the grapes, and the entire winemaking process." 

He told you stories of growing up, playing through the vines and rows of trellises, making you long for the rows of apple trees at Aunt Viv's. He also talked about spending time with his grandfather, learning the process of pressing grapes and his grandmother tending and picking the grapes. He spoke about the people, everyone from the gardeners to the people who bottled the wine to his siblings, with whom he'd played hide-and-seek within the cellars. 

He told you a business major was worth it, as much as he loathed it, if he could own the place one day.  

You hoped he did. 

But Mickey Garica and Bob Floyd were... characters, to say the least. It was easy to talk with them, even laugh with them, as the three of you spread tiny black spiders all over the apartment. 

Mickey couldn’t stop asking if you could paint him one day, though you imagined it would be fandom-inspired rather than a realistic portrait. The second you asked him about his favourite universe, he launched into a word vomit of praise for each and every one. He spoke of Lord of the Rings, Marvel, Star Wars, Star Trek, and Batman—not DC—as the character deserved to be separated from the rest. 

It made you wonder if the one portrait would be enough. Still, you happily humoured him, saying you needed the practice. 

He was in Health Sciences, hoping it would be enough to get his foot in the door to become a firefighter. He talked about it so passionately, about being capable of making a difference and saving lives, that you honestly couldn’t see him in any other role. 

And given the opportunity, Bob was so full of sass and witty comebacks to the ones you managed to throw his way, you were surprised he was seeking an Anthropology and Archaeology degree. He seemed to have a natural talent for what Comedians had labelled “crowd work.” You honestly would have taken him for a drama major had he not told you differently.

However, once he explained his choice, you understood why. Growing up, having been a Boy Scout, learning about nature, rocks, and life. He wanted to know more about life, history, and how things were. 

A visit to an archeological dig site in high school sold it for him. His eyes lit up when he spoke about ancient civilizations, lost artifacts, and all the mysteries surrounding human evolution. He rattled off facts about Neanderthals and cave paintings, which had you urging him for more. 

He happily obliged and was encouraging when you offered a few that you knew of. 

All of them were so passionate about what they wanted to do with their lives, even Bradley, who wanted to pursue football seriously as a career; you admired all of them for it with your entire heart. 

But Jake Seresin was... you didn’t know. Nor did he, it seemed. 

Jake was there at your side every time you went back up that ladder, claiming someone needed to catch you should you fall again. You had rolled your eyes, a slight smirk gracing your face, but you let him all the same. 

He wasn’t as open as the others, wanting to flirt with you more than anything else. Somehow, you managed to get him talking about football, and when you asked him why he played, he admitted that his father had gone and played at the school. He had been urged to apply, and his family would support him throughout his entire ride. 

“Family money,” he said, his tone light when you gawked at him. You didn’t ask what his parents did, but knowing he came from a rich family, you wondered if he didn't want people to know. You certainly didn't. Nat didn’t know, at least not yet. 

It prompted him to add his parents weren’t pressuring him into one career or another; they simply wanted him to keep up with the sport. So, he was buying time and taking electives, trying to figure it out, though he would have to make a decision soon. 

And it made you wonder, under that confidence, under that layer of charm and ease on his surface, if he was searching for what everyone else in the group had already found. While everyone else didn’t fit the stereotype, you wondered if Jake was attempting to mould himself into it. 

How you wished to tell him, he didn’t have to. 

But Jake wasn’t a painting you could tear apart or theorize about. And as you pinned that last streamer to the ceiling, you realized over the course of the afternoon, you’d unwittingly developed a bit of a crush on him. 

You weren’t stupid. You recognized the signs the second he caught you off that ladder. The second he handed you that shot. He was laying on the charm, the flirty glances, the playful smiles. Even the slight touches on your waist as you leaned back, pining streamers to the ceiling, were waving the red flags in your head. 

Jake was either genuinely interested or actively looking for someone to hook up with tonight. 

It wouldn’t be you, that’s for sure—not even for someone so charming and handsome as Jake Seresin. 

In the last two hours, the guys took turns getting ready first while everyone else finished with the final touches. They wanted you and Natasha to go first, but you vehemently refused, knowing they’d ruin hours of hard work if left unsupervised. 

You also wanted to see this through to the end, but you kept that to yourself. You had revealed enough of your quirky, artsy side to them. You did not need to add to it by gushing over the decorations or how the entire apartment turned out, possibly damaging whatever relationship you'd established so far. 

People were weird when it came to shit like that. 

Jake and Bradley emerged from Nat’s bedroom just as the two of you were headed toward yours. The hallway was already lit in a deep red from the lights now neatly strung up in the corners of the ceiling. Though the sun was beginning to set, shining warm light through your window, you knew the total effect would be entirely eerie when night rolled around. You couldn’t wait to see it.

Bradley was dressed as Indiana Jones: a white shirt, a brown leather jacket, and a fake whip at his side. His outfit was complementary to Nat's Marion Ravenwood, her costume the classic white dress from the first movie you spent a while making. Though she did ask you to take some creative liberties with the design, the dress was more risque than necessary. 

The only thing remotely movie-accurate about it would be the puffy sleeves.

You couldn't help but whistle when Jake stepped out from behind Bradley. Instantly perking up at the noise, he let out a sly smirk and straightened the lapels of his deep black leather jacket. 

"Danny Zuko, huh?" you laughed softly. "Guess you've got the whole 'bad boy' vibe down." 

Jake smirked at you, copying one of the iconic character's signature moves by sliding his hands into his black leather jacket pockets as he strode by. "Only missing my Sandy. You wouldn't happen to know where I could find one, would you?" 

You coyly peered at him over your shoulder as you continued down the hall. Unknown to either of you, Nat and Bradley had stopped to watch the interaction, filled to the brim with curiosity. 

"Wouldn't know. I'm more of a Rizzo myself. Too much sass and not enough patience for leather pants." 

"To get into them or to get out?"

With a glimmer in your eyes and a smirk on your lips, you pivoted to face Jake completely, still walking backwards. “You're quite the smooth talker, aren’t you?” 

Jake shrugged, giving off the vibe of, ‘I can’t help my reputation.’ However, you could see the easy grin on his face, and one side of his mouth crooked upwards, making him appear boyish—just like the character he was dressed up as. 

It made your heart flutter inside your chest. 

“It’s a shame I’m more into the rough-around-the-edges type,” you teased softly, pausing by the corner. 

Liar. Oh, you horrible liar. 

Jake’s grin didn’t disappear when you saw him press his tongue to the inside of his cheek, arching an eyebrow. Instead, it turned into a knowing smirk.

“Is that so?” he teased.

You flushed, at a loss for words. Jake's teasing gaze lingered, and the lift in the corner of his mouth suggested he saw right through your lie. Your cheeks burned hot. 

Jake's chuckle echoed softly down the hallway as you made your escape, somehow making your heart race faster. You didn't dare look back, but you could feel his eyes on you as you turned the corner and down the hallway to your bedroom.

As Jake retreated back into the apartment, Bradley coughed lightly. He exchanged a knowing look with Nat, who had been watching your retreat. He jutted his head once toward you, and Nat replied in kind with a single tilt of her head toward Jake. 

They didn’t need to say aloud what they were thinking. They’d talk about what they discovered later, but it wouldn’t stop them from pressing this interesting development further. 

When she reached your room, Nat found you already in your robe, sitting at your vanity, brushing your hair. You had already laid out your costumes on your bed earlier in the day, and Nat raced to hers the second she saw it, making grabby hands at the fabric. 

"Ahh, it turned out so great, Maeve!" she exclaimed, grabbing the top and holding it up. You glimpsed at her through the reflection of your mirror, smiling when she hugged it to her chest.

“If I had made it any deeper, Nat, you’d be showing off more than just dangly bits.” 

She blew a raspberry at you. You giggled, shaking your head.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to do couples costumes. I never thought Bradley would go for it,” she said after a while, standing next to you and straightening her hair in the mirror of your vanity.

“Really?” you asked, concentrating on not poking your eye out with your mascara. 

“How else am I going to shoo off all the girls practically clamouring to get with Bradley? It’s a nice way to do it, don’t you think?” 

“Maybe. Not every costume as a twin, though,” you said, lowering your hand to gesture to yourself. You hoped Nat would at least acknowledge the effort you’d made or pep you up for a party you'd originally never wanted to hold. 

“What about the Danny wandering around the apartment ‘without his Sandy’?”

You dropped your hand from where you had started fixing up your other eye, glaring at her reflection in your mirror. “Really, Nat?” 

“What, you don’t dream of a little Summer Lovin?” 

You felt your face flush. As if Jake would ever really go for someone like you. “It’s Halloween, Nat.” 

“Exactly. It’s Halloween, and it’s getting colder. Maybe you’ve got chills, and maybe they're multiplying.” 

You groaned, dropping your head and smacking it against your vanity. 

“You’re sure he’s not the one you want?” she bumped you with her hip, grinning.

“Can you stop with the Grease puns? Please,” you squawked. 

Nat laughed, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger as she stepped away. "Okay, okay. But if you change your mind, I think Danny Zuko out there wouldn't mind being 'the one that you want.'"

Fingers wrapping around the handle of your hair brush, you didn’t lift your head from the vanity as you chucked it in Nat’s direction. She laughed hard, and you didn’t need to look to know you had missed her completely. 

Nat eventually cajoled you into helping her slip into her dress, adjusting bits and pieces of fabric here and there. You sat back down at your vanity as she twirled once in the mirror, declaring she was satisfied. Then her eyes went to the door, and her attention shifted to Bradley and what waited beyond it. 

"Are you okay if I go out? Do you need any help?" Nat's voice was laced with excitement, and her eyes gleamed with anticipation of finally having a party as she smoothed down the sides of her dress.  

You shook your head, leaning back in your chair. Nat didn’t meet your gaze. "No, I'm good. I only need to touch up my makeup, and my dress is a slip-on," you smiled. "Go make sure Bradley keeps his hat on." 

Nat wiggled her shoulders, biting her lip to mute her squealing giggle. The puffy sleeves of her short dress waved with her, and she precariously tip-toed out the door on her high heels. Once in the hallway, she dramatically yelled, "Come and get me, Indiana Jones!" 

You stifled a giggle, shaking your head, allowing yourself to turn back to face your mirror.

Staring at yourself, you searched every part of your face, making sure your foundation, blush, eyes, and lips were just how you wanted them to be. You toyed with a strand of curled hair, wondering if what you had done was enough—if all of it had been enough. 

Then your eyes came to rest on your costume, so carefully draped across the end of your bed through the reflection in the mirror. 

You're not sure why "Flaming June" happened to be your favourite painting, though you supposed it had to do with the girl in the painting so casually draped across that seat next to that fountain. She was curled up almost like a serpent, covered in sheer transparent vibrant orange, the painting's only bright pop of colour.

The painting was supposedly meant to depict nymphs, sleeping Greek nymphs for that matter, or even Victorian society's obsession with beauty. However, you argued differently in the paper you wrote for it.

You cared more about the juxtaposition of fire and tranquillity in the piece than about whatever cultural influence or social construct it had at the time. That one girl was at the centre of the painting, wrapped in sheer, see-through colour. She was meant to be the focus; that much was certain. 

Maybe you thought her dress signified the chaos of the world around her, and all she wanted to do was find a moment of peace. 

You’d spent countless hours at the fabric store trying to match the correct shade. Once you had completed parts of Nat's, you spent even countless more at your sewing machine, staying up late to make progress on yours. 

And each time she asked you to make alternations on hers, the more drastic you made it to be ‘just that much sluttier', the more you thought about what you could do to yours. In the end, the thin straps holding up your dress, revealing bare shoulders and the long slit between your breasts, ending just before your belly button, was all you could stomach. 

You held the dress up, contemplating your thoughts. You could do this. You could survive one simple Halloween party - one simple college rager party. 

Right?

———

The second the apartment was starting to flood with arriving guests, Jake realized you hadn’t emerged from your room with Nat.

He had been off to the side near a bookcase, talking with Bradley, hoping to stave off the crowd and the rest of the football team for a little longer. He knew they'd want to talk football and strategies for the season, and Jake simply... didn't. 

He wanted a night off. He wanted to relax and have a good time. And talking about football wouldn't be it. 

Bradley had said something to Jake, but he hadn’t been paying attention. He was too busy searching the gathering pods of people for your face. Why, he didn’t know. But he was eager to find out. 

Bradley snapped his fingers in Jake's face, startling him from his search. "Earth to Jake!" 

Jake shook his head, focusing back on Bradley. "Sorry, what?" 

Bradley raised his eyebrows under the rim of his fedora. "What's going on in that head of yours?" 

Jake regarded him for a few seconds before finally looking down at his drink, bringing it to his lips, admitting, "I'm just looking for Maeve." 

As Jake took a drink, Bradley grinned. "She's probably still getting ready. Nat said her costume was based on her favourite panting." 

Jake didn't even look up from his drink when he asked, "What's her favourite painting?" 

"Why? You looking to make a good impression?" he said, still grinning. 

"Fuck off, Man," Jake snapped, taking another swig to finish his drink. Bradley only laughed, now shaking his head. He would have let Jake simmer in his ask, but this was you. He had to give Jake at least a decent running chance. 

"It's Flaming June, the chick in the orange dress. It's a brilliant costume idea. She made it herself." 

Of course, you would have made it yourself, Jake thought. 

"Surely you came across that painting with your 'rich upbringing.' Nat was practically force-feeding information down our throats a few seconds ago to ensure we recognized her costume. It’s some Freddie Luigui piece. I don't know." 

"I know it," Jake snapped. "I've seen it before." 

Jake was pretty sure he had, maybe once at one of his father's fundraising parties, though he actively searched his mind, trying to remember what it looked like. 

Bradley remained silent, slouching against the bookcase and crossing one leg over the other. He narrowed his eyes at his friend and tilted his head. 

"Why the sudden interest in Maeve? She isn't one for..." Bradley trailed off, searching for the correct word. Just as Jake was about to ask him what he meant, Nat's approaching heels on the hardwood floor stopped them both. 

She stopped at Bradley's side, red solo cup in hand, looping her arm through his. "What are you two handsome boys gossiping about over here?" she giggled at her boyfriend, her chin plopping lazily down onto his bicep. "See any snakes in the crowd, Indy?" 

Bradley pulled his face back into a grimace, reciting the famous line. "Snakes. Why does it always have to be snakes?" 

Jake rolled his eyes at their banter, placing his empty cup on the table between them. Nat giggled, tilting her head back, indicating to Bradley she wanted to be kissed. He complied without protest, leaning down, pressing his lips to hers in an overly dramatic display merely to piss Jake off. 

"Get a room," Jake groaned, mocking a wrenching noise. The couple separated, turning to Jake with amused smirks. "You've heard and seen far worse, dude." 

Jake shuttered, the unwanted memory of walking in on Nat and Bradley from weeks ago flashing through his mind. Sharing an apartment with Bradley had its moments - some good, some decidedly less so. It made him wonder if Maeve had to put up with the same shit he did. 

“Where’s Maeve?” Jake asked Nat, ignoring Bradley's remark. "I haven't seen her yet."

Nat opened her mouth, about to tell him you were still getting ready, when she caught sight of a flash of orange stepping out from behind the corner of the hallway. You came into view, your head angled down, mindful of stepping on your dress as thin streams of transparent fabric trailed behind you at your sides. 

Javy let out a low-toned whistle from somewhere in the room, and heads turned, one by one, as you took your final step into the apartment. 

“Damn girl, you clean up nice!” 

Lifting your head, you were surprised to see eyes on you. Javy glided forward to greet you from where he had been standing at a nearby table, and you smiled at him, though a little weary. Deep down, you knew his comment was meant to be a compliment. But something coarse, like sandpaper, rubbed against your heart at the remark, lingering longer than you would have liked. 

“What? Not bad for a fine arts major?” you joked somewhat deprecatively, though your voice held none of it. 

Javy held out his hand, and you grabbed it, allowing him to lift it above your head. With a pump of his wrist, he urged you to spin under his arm several times, letting your dress fan out. You giggled as he urged you, though you wobbled on your heels. The dreaded things were Nat's only contribution to your outfit, and you were severely regretting it. 

He let you go, thinking you had your footing on the last, slowed spin. But when you came to a stop, you were on the verge of falling over, your head dizzy, and your legs unbalanced. 

To his credit, Javy tried to reach out and steady you, already regretting the step he took back. However, before he could, another pair of hands, one on your hip and one taking your hand, steadied you. 

Jake’s hands were firm on your skin, pulling you close as you lost your balance. You fell into his chest, head tilted back, half falling over. And looking up at his face, seeing the amused grin on his lip, you drew in a sharp breath at the sight. 

"Letting me make a good first impression?" he quipped.

“By catching falling women?” you laughed breathlessly, bringing your free hand to his chest. If you had let your hand stall slightly longer than necessary, you would have never admitted to it.

“Seems noble enough,” he replied, helping you to stand. Though he might have let go of your hand, he didn’t let go of your waist. “Or do you make it a habit to test the reflexes of every guy you meet?”

You couldn’t resist the playful jab. “Only the ones who seem like they can handle it. And the pretty ones.”

Jake's grin widened, and he even risked sneaking a quick peek at your lips, letting them rest there for a few seconds before his eyes roamed the rest of your body.

"Flaming June, right? Frederic Leighton's Masterpiece."

You blinked in surprise, letting out a small gasp. You honestly expected to tell people what your costume was, not just some girl in some random orange dress. Jake's knowledge of the painting, let alone his identification of it so quickly, was scoring him some major brownie points. 

"You know your art," you commented nonchalantly.

He shrugged, "I might know a thing or two. I always had a thing for the classics. By the way, it suits you." 

You practically preened under his gaze. "Thank you," you said, a shy smile creeping onto your face. He beamed at you in return. 

Yes, you might have a crush on him. But for the first time that day, you figured it wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

—- 

This was a bad idea - Oh, this party was such a bad idea.

Believing you were having a good time and actually having a good time were two separate things. You certainly felt one of those things. As the night went on, and with each drink you tipped back, alcoholic or not, regret built in your stomach. 

You weren’t sure what you were expecting. Maybe you were seeking reasons where there initially were none, allowing Natasha’s suggestions to slowly chip away at your resolve until you finally gave in. Maybe it was the promise of letting loose, to embrace the spirit of Halloween with all its creative potential.  

Maybe it was the promise of making new friends. Of getting to know people outside the art department. Natasha had told you to mingle. She wanted you to mingle, and yet... you didn’t know where to start. 

You didn't expect Nat or Bradley to coddle you, but they could have introduced you to a few people besides the core group before things had gotten this bad. You didn't dare approach Javy or Rueben, who played beer pong and chugged beers back like it was nobody's business. They were off doing their own thing, and you didn’t want to intrude. 

 Mickey and Bob had gone home earlier in the night. Bob proclaimed he had a midterm to study for, and Mickey wanted to go home anyway so he could call his family in peace. You strongly suspected he wanted to watch Halloween movies instead.

Rocky Horror sounded like a wonderful idea right about now. 

You couldn’t hang around Nat and Bradley all night, either. And nobody from your art classes would even dare set foot inside a party where nearly half of its guests were from the sororities.

You knew that. While you did extend the invitation, you told them you wouldn't blame them if they didn't come. They had looked at you with such disregard you wondered if they were seeing you through newly polished rose-coloured glasses. And standing up against the wall next to your bookcase, like an insipid wallflower, you could hardly blame them for it either. 

You couldn’t introduce yourself in a place where you were the outsider, even within the walls of your own home. Soon after the first few attempts, that realization settled deep into your chest. And you couldn’t help but feel like you had done this to yourself -  an attempt to be part of something like this, even if just for a night.

But Jake… Jake was still here. At least, he should be. He had been by your side for the beginning of the evening, talking to you about what projects you were currently working on over another drink—not whiskey—after you had started to hiccup while putting up decorations. 

After he recognized your dress, you weren’t ashamed to tell him. You had launched into the ideas and thoughts behind two paintings and one sculpture, an old table that you were trying to turn into an elemental-type sundial. You told him about the zodiac signs you had already burned into the wood after sanding it down and how each was placed in its own little section as it related to its element. 

You had reached halfway through your thought process when you realized how lost you were in your explanation. You froze mid-sentence, blushing harder than the colour of your dress. 

"Sorry," you had said. "I ramble when I get excited about my art.” 

But Jake’s interest hadn’t waned. If anything, it urged him to ask, “How did you find something you're so passionate about? Creating things... making art?"

His question had made you pause, though not over what to say but merely how to say it. “It was my voice when words fell short or my escape when the world grew too loud.” 

You caught a glimpse of something in Jake’s eyes—a flash of longing, a momentary crack in his confident demeanour. What followed was a slight nod. It was there, and then it wasn’t, as if he’d accidentally revealed more of himself than he wanted. Then he caught himself, suddenly straightened his spine, and continued the conversation as if that brief lapse in judgment never happened in the first place. 

Ten minutes later, he excused himself to get another drink. And you hadn’t seen him since. 

You scanned the room for him, hoping to spot that black leather jacket among the sea of people. But it was impossible. Under the dim, eerie glow of the lights, each costume blurred into the next, and the crowd swallowed any hope of finding him.

Reaching for whatever mixed drink Nat had made you earlier off the table, you pushed yourself off the wall, weaving through the throngs of people, figuring you might as well try to see if she knew where he had run off to. 

Liquid sloshed over the rim of your cup onto your hand as you dodged a zombie here, a fairy there, and music pulsing like a heartbeat through the packed room. Laughter and snippets of conversations swirled around you as you scanned the sea of faces, both masked and not for Nat. 

Glasses clinked, a witch cackled, and the scent of spiced pumpkin mingled somewhere in the mix with the tang of alcohol and body sweat. By the time you spotted her leaning heavily against the kitchen Island, red cup in hand and her laughter too loud, eyes slightly unfocused, you knew the night had taken its toll on her sobriety. 

She was too preoccupied with telling a bunch of people a story to notice how you quickly launched the contents of your cup into the sink behind her. You extended your arm when you were close enough, looping your arm around her waist. Her arm came up at the same time, sliding across your back to pull you close. 

Nat tilted her head back onto her shoulders, glancing at you with happy eyes. "Maeve!" she whined tipsily. 

Given how far gone she was, you were surprised at how accurately she pronounced your name. She bent slightly, still holding her red Solo cup in her hand, to hug you tight, her face smooshing into your neck.

“It looks like you’re having the time of your life,” you snorted. She nodded against your skin, biting her lip in a smile with a happy, drunken snigger. She lazily pulled back to meet your eye, and you smiled at her. 

“Have you seen Jake around?” 

Nat paused, her gaze flickering around the room as if she'd genuinely forgotten about him, though she didn’t lift her head off your body. "Jake? Oh, I haven't seen him in a bit,” she slurred slightly. “Why? Do you two likeeeeeeeeeeeeeee each other? Is Jake going to make you scream grease lightin’?” 

You reached for her red Solo cup and pried it from her hand. “Okay, yup, you're cut off.” 

“Nooo,” she pouted her arm a dead weight as she tried to take it back. Her hand hit the bottom of the cup, and liquid shot up, once again covering your hand in whatever type of alcohol Nat managed to mix together. You could only sigh. 

“Here comes the fun police,” she muttered under her breath. “I thought you’d be off doing your own thing.” 

Well, that fucking stung just a tiny bit. 

“I’m not going to be the one who cleans up your vomit tomorrow morning, Nat.” 

“I’ve only had,” she held up her hand, widening her thumb and pointer finger probably further apart than she thought, “this much to drink.” 

“Ahm...”  

Luckily for you, Bradley appeared, having seen what was going on. He looked amused yet concerned as he slid between the gap of the island and Nat to observe his girlfriend babbling nonsense on your shoulder. “What’s happening here?”

Nat made another grab for her cup, but Bradley gently intercepted her, taking her hand into his before she could even grasp it. 

“That,” you offered. 

 “I think it’s time we get you to bed, love,” he suggested, wrapping an arm around her waist. You let him take her, happy for him to bear her weight. 

Nat leaned into him, mumbling something incoherent, a mix of protest and agreement. Bradley spared a glance at you, silently thanking you in your unspoken agreement. You nodded, watching as he sandwiched her to his side and carried her off towards her room. 

It always seemed like one of you was always taking care of her. At one point or another. 

After getting rid of Nat’s cup, you felt the sticky residue of both of your spilled drinks on your skin and felt the urge to run to the privacy of the bathroom to wash it off. Stumbling down the hallway, blusters on your feet finally making themselves known, you let your hands casually slide along the wall. The music from the party faded into a muffled, dull noise as you walked. 

You wanted to smile at the lights. The red eerie glow along the top corners of the ceiling only reached not even halfway down the wall, plunging the floor into a dark abyss. You clumsily stuttered through it, unable to see anything below your waist.

It was exactly as you pictured it, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to manage the slightest grin. 

The bathroom door was down at the end of the hall slightly ajar, with the red LED light illuminating its edges from behind. You zoned in on it like a wobbly arrow to a target, tired and completely done with tonight and everything about it.

You reached for the curved handle, about to push the door open, when a high-pitched giggle came from behind the piece of wood. You shot your hand back like you had been burned, and with a quick turn of your heel, you plastered your back up against the wall. 

You immediately knew what was happening behind that door, and it made you throw up in your mouth just a little. 

Ugh, I’m going to have to disinfect the hell out of that bathroom tomorrow. 

The next voice you heard, however, made your heart drop into your stomach. 

“You like that, don’t ya, sweetheart?”

You didn't want to believe it, but you had to see for yourself. Leaning forward off the wall, you peered through the crack in the door, only to spot a black leather jacket taking up most of your view—the same black jacket you had complimented Jake on earlier that day. It was a stark contrast to the red glowing light above him, and something snapped in your heart and recoiled back as one slender bare leg in beige fishnet stockings wrapped around his. 

There was an overly drunken and seductive 'ahm,' forcing you to glance over his shoulder at the girl he was with—her costume was a bejewelled Taylor Swift outfit to match her long blonde hair. 

You swallowed your bile and adverted your gaze, pressing yourself back up against that wall, out of sight and hidden completely from view. 

You knew this was a possibility; Jake was merely looking for a hookup and nothing more. You had considered it all afternoon. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel utterly hurt at the sight. 

"I mean, Nat's pretty clever befriending that girl.. what was her name, Maeve?" the girl snickered. 

"I know. It sounds like something out of those weird fantasy books everyone loves." A whimper from his companion followed Jake's breathy and muffled laugh.

At the dig, your hand went to your chest, your heart thudding painfully under your palm. The realization they had been talking about you, about Nat, made tears flood your eyes. 

You didn't understand it. Or maybe you did, and you were too blinded by the possibility of someone like him, someone like Nat, Bradley, Bob, Mickey, and Rueben, to beat the fucking pyramid scheme and care about someone like you. 

What other explanation was there except the fact you had been blinded by those who proved to be the exception? Blinded by the fucking elementary school crush cause he had flirted, smiled, joked, and maybe even showed some half-decent interest in you. Clearly, the second he figured out you weren’t going to hook up with him, he sought his sights on someone else. 

Jake wasn’t trying to mould into the stereotype. He was the fucking stereotype.

"Even her costume," she sneered. "Like, who the fuck dresses up like that for a college rager Halloween party? You're supposed to dress up slutty."

You couldn't speak, staring down the front of your dress to what you had thought had been a risky enough slit. You couldn't even breathe. 

"You kidding me?" he laughed lowly. "Bradley was practically screaming at us what she dressed up as. I'd have no fucking clue what she was otherwise. I'd guess some random Greek Godness obsessed with that awful shade of orange."

Your hand slid up from your chest, around your throat to feel your harsh, rough swallow. Only it didn’t stop there, suddenly finding yourself wrapping it around your entire mouth, stifling any noise wanting to escape. Through shaky inhales in and out of your nose, you fought hard to stop yourself from crying over this. 

Over him. Over a fucking jock who would say anything to hook up with a girl. Only to get his dick wet. 

But you couldn't prevent the tears from welling up in your eyes, or from one finally spilling over, dropping down your cheek only to stall there, or how the hand covering your mouth curled up around your cheekbone, only to stroke away the tear. 

You refused to look back at the door through the crack, so you fixed your gaze on the darkness consuming the ground. And as you lowered your hand, you caught the ugly black smear marring your skin.

 How could you not? Standing in the glow of that red hallway light, it was the only thing you could see.

The artistic irony hits you like a freight train. Here you were, dressed as the girl in your favourite painting. Her dress had been the only bright shade of colour in the entire painting, and you, standing in the top half glow of bright red LED lights, had failed to notice what had been staring you in the face all along.

Orange was muted by red, and black bled through all. The only thing about you that stood out the entire evening was this tiny black mark scarring the back of your hand—black tears from smeared mascara.

"I would have guessed an orange," the girl snickered, quickly followed by a mewl. "Though she practically blended into the wall, I couldn't see her with the lights." 

Lips plucking on skin echoed off the title and out the door, and Jake drew in a ragged breath as he agreed. "She did blend right into the fucking wall, didn’t she?"

Your eyes burned. The girl giggled. 

“How long do you think this one will stay? She seems… different, to say the least.” 

Jake sniggered. “Seriously, you think Natasha Trace is hanging around that girl out of the goodness of her heart?” 

His laugh was so full of malice that it was nothing like the ones you had heard pleasantly filling your ears earlier. 

“Everyone knows after what Nat did, she needs an image clean up. Playing the saint, befriending the weird loner art girl, giving her the best friend badge?” 

“If she thinks she’s got a place in the big leagues, she’s in for a rude awakening,” the girl murmured. “Pathetic. People like her don’t belong with people like us.” 

There was a pause. “It’s just like Natasha, though. She always needs an audience, something to validate her feelings. It’s brillant really.” 

Jake's agreement was a silent blow, his next words the dagger. "Nat's smart. She knows how to play the game. Maeve's just...convenient."

Convenience. The word echoed in your mind, bouncing off the walls of your already crumbling self-worth.

“Give it a year. Trace is going to drop her the second the next new shiny person comes along. And everyone is going to forget about the little art girl she used up and discarded. Or she’ll become the most hated girl on campus.” 

Without your back up against the wall, his words might have made you crumble into that dark abyss. 

“Can we stop talking about her now?” the girl whined. “I thought you promised to get me off.” 

Jake chuckled lowly, the sound morphing into a low, predatory growl. “You brought her up, sweetheart. But don’t worry—I’m all yours now.” 

You pushed yourself away from that wall, stumbling down the dark hallway to your bedroom out of instinct, refusing to subject yourself to any further torture. But just before your door, you fell into the wall, your shoulder throbbing as you slouched against it. 

The world around you swirled, leaving you consumed by one thought—and one thought alone.

That. Fucking. Asshole! How dare he! How fucking dare he!

To hear Natasha be demeaned, your friendship demeaned and used as a stepping stone in pursuit of a meaningless hookup... anger boiled under your skin. You didn’t care what he or what they had said about you, but Nat? 

If Jake thought he’d succeed in sweet-talking you, to play you like a puppet on a string, just as he assumed Nat had been doing, he had another thing coming. If he was going to talk shit about your friendship with her, you’d show him just how spineless you could be. 

Oh, he’d wish he’d never caught you off that fucking ladder. Wished he had never met you and flirted with you, obviously a ploy to find someone to hook up with. You gagged at ever having a crush on him in the first place. 

But as you leaned against the wall, trying to steady your swirling thoughts, doubt wormed its way into your mind.

What if he was right? 

What if your friendship with Nat was just a convenience, a way for her to maintain her status or recover from her sorority fallout? You knew nothing of it, nothing more than what she told you. There could be more to the story, things she hadn’t revealed, things nobody else had either.

 No, you shook your head, trying to dismiss the thought. Nat had been there for you in ways no one else had. 

Jake was just an asshole. Plain and simple. 

But then another thought sucker punched you in the gut. 

You couldn’t tell anyone else what he said. You wouldn’t be responsible for causing that type of drama within a friend circle, one that long before you ever showed up. They never would have believed you anyway, and Nat… she worked so hard to get out, escape the rumours and gossip, to put it behind her. She didn’t need to know about this.

You had no choice but to carry this burden alone. It was a lonely decision, but perhaps loneliness was a small price to pay for the semblance of harmony among friends—or so you tried to convince yourself.

But Jake. You could no longer give a rat’s ass about Jake. If he wanted to attack Nat, then fine. You hit him right back. That much you could still do. 

Whatever had possessed Frederic Leighton to name the piece you currently embodied, “Flaming June,” whatever possessed him to gift that girl with fire in her name, that fire was suddenly born in you. 

A flame that sparked and kerosened your soul to burn, hot and bright. It was a wildfire that rushed under layers of skin and ignited every nerve, ending with a ferocity you never knew you possessed. It was born to protect what you had found - Nat, Bradley, Bob, Mickey, Javy and Rueben. And that fucking asshole would never be allowed to put you down, Nat down, like your family did, ever again. 

Pushing yourself off the wall, you stepped into your bedroom. Slamming the door, the lock clicked hard into place. 

It never opened the rest of the night.

NOW YOU KNOW....

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[bradshawssugarbaby]

She’s So High - Jake Seresin x Reader

A/N: Inspired by the song She's So High - Tal Bachman.

pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader

warnings: pining, mentions of death/combat, swearing

word count: 1.7k

“First class and fancy-free, she's high society. She's got the best of everything, what could a guy like me ever really offer? She's perfect as she can be, why should I even bother?”

“Oh, Bagman’s got it bad,” Javy teased, smirking as he took a sip from his beer glass, the draught’s foam catching on the top of his lip as he took a drink.

“Aw, leave Loverboy alone, she’s too good for him, he’s trying to numb the pain,” Bradley quipped as he gave Jake a slap on the back, grinning ear to ear as he saw his friend and usual rival squirm in his seat at the mention of the girl he’d been pining after for a couple of weeks now.

“Ha. Ha. You guys are killing me with your humour,” Jake retorted, shaking his head.

Jake wasn’t the crushing type. He hadn’t had a crush since he was 16 - crushes were juvenile and cowardly in Jake’s mind - he was a man who knew what he wanted and went for it when he saw it. He couldn’t remember the last time he fell this hard for someone who barely even knew his name, he was always found no-strings-attached relationships easier, no one had unrealistic expectations, there was little to argue about, and no one ended up heartbroken when things fizzled out and inevitably ended a month or two later. He knew he was getting too old for it, and eventually women would start to become disenchanted by a man in his mid 30s with a fear of commitment, but, he’d cross that bridge when he got there. He was happy with how things were in his life - he never got hurt, and neither did anyone else when he got shipped out halfway around the world or relocated.

That was, until he saw you. Jake played in a beer league baseball tournament on weekends, and she had joined his team a couple of weeks ago as an alternate player. You were the sister of one of his teammates girlfriends, and just happened to have played ball in high school, so you volunteered yourself to play when their second baseman broke his ankle earlier that week.

You'd become a regular replacement for second base, and the entire team was in awe of your talent on the diamond. Jake had noticed right away, your long, sporty high ponytail, piercing eyes and the way you looked in a pair of athletic shorts was enough to get his heartbeat to race, taking away any and all focus he had during the game.

Instantly, he was captivated by you. He caught himself feeling things he hadn’t felt in a long time, and he didn’t know what to do about it. In retrospect, he should have just let it go, or sucked it up and said something to you on his own accord like he did with every other girl he’d liked, but, instead, he confided in Bob, a member of his flight squadron, who apparently, can’t keep a secret to save his life.

Bob had accidentally let it slip to Natasha during a flight exercise, and Natasha couldn’t resist the juicy little tidbit she could now hold over Jake’s head. She kept it to herself for about a week, until the new object of Jake’s affection had entered the Hard Deck one night with another of the baseball teammates and his wife.

Jake was caught off guard, for once in his life, rendered speechless and vulnerable, unsure of how to proceed. He wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole right there, not wanting to say a word to her, especially not with his friends around. His friends were great towards him, and he had no doubt that if he did ever bring an established girlfriend around them, they’d welcome her with open arms, however, a girl Jake had a crush on? He wasn’t ready to admit to it, and he knew he’d have to if they caught his reaction.

Natasha, however, was able to put two and two together when she noticed Jake slinking down in his seat in an effort to hide himself behind Bradley’s shoulder. Bob gave a bewildered stare at Jake’s odd behaviour, until his gaze drifted towards the door and landed on the girl Jake had been describing to him. Bradley, not wanting to be left out of the secret, but also having the loudest mouth of the group found out, and once that happened, just about everyone in North Island had learned of Jake Seresin and his not-so-secret crush.

“You’re telling me you can fly into enemy lines and shoot down planes, staring death in the face and laughing at it as a pilot, but you can’t…ask a girl on a date?” Javy taunted, trying his best to keep a straight face as he quizzed Jake about his nerves and reservations about asking her out.

“It’s not that I’m nervous. I don’t get nervous,” Jake replied with a cool tone.

“Come on, Bagman, everyone gets nervous.”

“For the last time, it’s Hangman, and not me.”

Jake sighed as he sipped his beer, running a hand through his perfect, sunkissed hair, golden honey coloured strands becoming tousled free from the hair gel he’d used to comb it into place. He frowned as he set the glass down on the table. He knew his friends would never let him live it down if he didn’t go over and at least talk to this girl, and the longer he waited, the more his friends would egg him on. He stood up from his seat silently, taking a deep breath before shooting the group one of his infamous cocksure grins - trying to force a look of natural confidence without coming across as being mistaken for arrogance.

“Alright, I’ll go talk to her, watch and learn boys, and lady. Watch and learn.” He said, thickening his accent to mask his nerves as best as he could.

With a cheer of encouragement from the table, and a hopeful thumbs up from Bob, as well as a wisecrack from Natasha about how there had to be another woman out there who was able to resist his southern charms and graces, Jake walked over towards the girl he’d been pining over for the last few weeks. He’d never pined for someone like this before, and the thought of feeling this way over a girl he barely knew was completely foreign territory to him. He’d never admit it to anyone, but fuck, he was nervous.

He’d never been good at addressing his feelings, having grown up in a military family in Texas - emotions weren’t something you shared or acted on typically. At least, not the positive ones. Love itself was almost a foreign concept - sure, he’d had girlfriends. He thought he’d been in love with a few of them, but these newfound feelings towards her? They had him questioning everything he had ever known about love. Maybe the feelings for his exes leading up to this point were something less intense than love, or, maybe this was something more intense. He couldn’t quite tell. All he knew was that for the first time in his life, he was lacking all confidence.

You were tall, almost taller than Jake was at just under six feet tall (though if anyone asked him, he stood at six-foot and half an inch), and you looked like something straight out of a magazine, with long flowing hair, piercing eyes, and a radiant smile. You were the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Stunning, and nothing short of perfect.

And he was…he was Jake. He knew he wasn’t bad looking, in fact, he usually figured he was one of the better looking guys in his squadron, save for maybe Javy and Bradley - Javy was smoother than he was when it came to flirting, it was so effortless for him, whereas Jake always felt like he was trying too hard, and Bradley had the one thing he didn’t and couldn’t - a mustache that actually suited his face. He couldn’t help but feel like she might be more suited with one of them, they were certainly better matches for her in his mind. He just hoped and prayed that she’d give him at least a drink shared between the two of them before she’d meet Bradley and be swept off her feet by him.

“Hi darlin’, what brings you here?” Jake said with a smile, immediately regretting his decision to go with the pet name.

“Hi! Jake, right? I’m just here with Derek and Alexis, you know, third-wheeling their date,” You laughed as she sipped her cocktail, and for a moment, Jake thought he was in heaven.

“How about coming to sit with me for a drink? I’m sure Derek and Alexis won’t mind if I steal ya for a few minutes, right?”

Jake held his breath for a moment as he waited for you to respond. Was he taking it too far? Was he coming on too strong? Should he backpedal and clarify it as friends? Should he leave it and let it go? Should he just turn around and walk away, spare himself the heartache that he was sure would inevitably follow if he waited for you to reply.

“I’d like that. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind. Do you play darts?”

“Do I?” He laughed softly, breathing a sigh of relief as he nodded his head, his lips now curling up into a grin at you, “You’re looking at the darts champion of the entire bar. Hasn’t been a single serviceman or woman who’s been able to beat me. I’m somewhat of an undefeated legend around here.”

“Oh, is that so?” You challenged, a wicked grin forming on her lips as you laughed, “You’re on, Jake.”

As you walked towards the dartboards, Jake followed behind, completely on cloud nine. He passed by the table where his friends were seated, and at their thumbs up and silent applause for him, he simply mock-saluted before keeping his eyes on the girl of his dreams. You may end up leaving him tomorrow, finding someone better for her before you even leave the bar, but for now, you were all his, and he wasn’t going to fuck this one up.

[roosterforme]

The Curveball Part 9 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: As Molly starts to warm up to the idea of being a mom, Bob just wants to take care of her every need. He wants to buy her gummy bears, feed her vegetables, and love her. But who will be there to help her when he can't be?

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swears, pregnancy, smut, 18+

Length: 4600 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story accompanies Batting Practice!)

Check my masterlist for more! The Curveball masterlist

Thank you to @mak-32 and @teacupsandtopgun for the beautiful banners!

Bob stashed the ring for Molly deep in the back of his side of the closet alongside his duffle bag and other deployment items. She made it clear she didn't want that right now, so it didn't really matter if he did. He'd wait until...well, as long as it took. Because Molly was staying with him. And she was keeping the baby. 

He was going to be a dad. He always thought he'd be a pretty good dad, given the opportunity. And Molly hadn't let him down or disappointed him one tiny bit by giving him the opportunity. He knew he was patient and willing to listen. He was good with kids, and they liked him because he respected them. He was already getting excited about this. He could be a dad if Molly was with him. 

And now that he knew what had been bothering her, he would do anything to help make things easier. He was currently making her a bowl of oatmeal with a sliced up banana on top of it while she lounged on the couch. He heard her get up and run to the bathroom once, but she seemed to have calmed down substantially since earlier this afternoon when she finally told him she was pregnant. 

When he took the oatmeal and a glass of ginger ale with plenty of ice into the living room, she smiled up at him. "Thanks, Bobby," she murmured. 

He sat next to her, and when she crawled onto his lap with the bowl of her dinner, he held her tight while she took tiny bites. "Just go slow," he whispered, kissing her shoulder through his undershirt which she was wearing. "If it doesn't stay down, then it doesn't stay down. No harm done."

"I'm so hungry," she whined, biting into one of the banana slices. "It's so good!"

"If you eat your dinner, I have some gummy bears in the kitchen cabinet for you," he promised, and the way her eyes lit up made him laugh. 

"You really love me," she said before bursting into tears again. He took the bowl and set it down on the coffee table while she wrapped her arms around his neck. 

He kissed the top of her head and whispered, "Of course I love you, Mo. More than anyone else. Except maybe our baby. And you can always tell me when something's got you upset."

"I know," she said through her tears. "I just didn't want you to think I was a flake. Or worse, that I did this on purpose."

Bob would never think either of those things about her. Could never think that. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Molly. And it didn't actually take you getting pregnant for me to realize that."

She looked up at him as she swiped at her tears. "The rest of your life?"

"Yes," he confirmed as she reached out to adjust his crooked glasses. "All of it. I told you I want forever. And we can get married someday if you want to. And we'll have the baby together. I already thought of names." 

"Really?" she asked, leaning in to kiss his nose. "I just told you I'm pregnant a few hours ago. You already have names?"

"Yes," he said with a smile as he looked at how pretty she was.

Bob watched her lips part in surprise. "Shit. The only baby name I like is Everett! I told my sister to use it, and now I'm kind of pissed off about it!"

Bob started laughing as she reached for the bowl of oatmeal again. "Maybe we'll have a girl."

"We can name her Roberta."

He winced. "Please, no."

But she just shrugged as she took another bite of food. "We'll see." 

----------------------------

Molly decided that the best part of being pregnant was the fact that she could eat candy whenever she wanted without Bob giving her side eye. But the worst part of being pregnant was going to work. She was vomiting. A lot. Like several times per day. And she was decidedly losing weight, which her doctor told her was completely normal. But it didn't feel normal. 

When she looked in the mirror, she thought she looked disgusting. Her skin was dull, her eyes looked tired, and even her hair was suffering a bit. She was definitely bloated too. But Bob told her she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and she burst into tears. Because she believed him. 

She was so overly emotional. Thank goodness the asshole doctor was gone from emergency rotation now, because she would have completely lost it on him. And she was just so fucking hungry. Like it never stopped. But she also could barely eat anything. Which made her more emotional. 

She had been spending a lot of time with her sister. When she tried to apologize about having a meltdown while dress shopping, her sister wouldn't hear it. But Molly did feel bad that she had to buy the dress she was wearing while Molly had an emotional breakdown on the floor. 

"I don't care about the dress as much as I care about you and Bob and your unborn child. Now let me hug you, okay?" And the mom hugs felt so good. Molly was happy she could learn from the best mom hugger, because she was determined to give superior mom hugs herself one day soon. 

"Bobby?" she called out when she got home from work the Saturday before her sister's wedding. She was ravenous, but she also thought maybe she was horny? She and Bob hadn't successfully had sex in weeks, because she got too motion sick every single time. It was a travesty. A crime against humanity. She had the sexiest boyfriend in the world, and she couldn't even fuck him properly. 

"I'm in the extra bedroom, Mo."

She kicked off her shoes, something Bob hated, and she strolled down the hallway in her scrubs. When she poked her head inside the room, she saw him taking measurements. She really liked the way he tucked the pencil behind his ear when he wasn't using it. Yep, she was horny. 

"Hi," she whispered, and when he turned to face her, he collected her in his arms. 

"How was work, mommy?" he asked, and she couldn't help but smile. Ever since the first ultrasound appointment when they saw what looked like a lima bean inside her, he had taken to calling her that on occasion. 

"I only threw up four times."

His face looked genuinely happy for her. "Progress!"

"I hope the barfing ends soon, because I'd rather clean up other people's upchuck than my own."

Bob kissed her forehead, and she let herself melt against him. "You're going to be the best mom in the world," he whispered, and of course she felt her overly emotional tears welling up in her eyes. Because she wanted to be. She honestly wanted to be so good at it that she made herself proud. "I'll be really good at all the boring stuff, but Honey, you'll be so much fun."

"You're not boring, Coach Bob. But you're definitely not as fun as I am. What are you working on anyway? I thought you were going out with Ev and Coach Turd."

"I did," he replied. "We went out for breakfast."

"To the place with the sticky floor?" she asked, rubbing her nose along his neck because he smelled so good. 

"Yes. Your nephew loves it there. But now I'm trying to figure out where the crib is going to fit. And I hate to tell you this, I really do... but Mo, we need to get rid of at least two of our couches."

She burst into laughter. "I've been waiting for you to say that since I moved in, and I am honestly shocked you made it this long."

He smiled down at her. "They gotta go."

"I'll text Bradley and ask him to help you move them," she said. "He'll be so pissed about it, but he'll do it anyway." But then she noticed that he looked a little hesitant. "What? What's wrong."

He shook his head and just shrugged. "Well, I was thinking I'd kind of like a baseball theme?" he asked softly as his cheeks grew rosy. 

"A baseball theme?" she asked, looking up at his beautiful eyes that she hoped the baby would win the genetic lottery and get. 

"Yeah. Baseball. We could do pink if it's a girl. But if you hate it, then we can go with something else."

"Oh, for the nursery?" she asked him, tugging him closer for a kiss. "You already came up with ideas for a nursery theme? God, Bobby, you're too much. Perfect boyfriends get blowjobs whenever they want them." His cheeks flushed with a deeper color as she pulled him toward their bedroom. "But I can't even suck your dick right now without throwing up."

"Yeah," he said with a look of concern. "Let's not do that again."

She bit her lip and started to pull her scrub top over her head. "I just want to do something nice for you, because you've been taking care of me nonstop, Lieutenant Floyd. Inside and outside of the bedroom," she added as she removed her bra.

And that's all it took. Bob's lips were on her breasts immediately, and Molly was in heaven. He'd been giving her the most feather light touches and going down on her for weeks. He promised her a million times that he didn't need to have traditional intercourse with her. He assured her they didn't need to mess around at all since she was feeling so queasy. 

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," she whispered as Bob ran his tongue along her piercing. She knew she'd have to remove them eventually, but for now, he was still enjoying himself. "And I think I feel okay. Will you let me try to ride you?"

The soft groan he made was scandalous as she untied her pants and let them slide down her legs. "We can try it, Honey. But if you're not feeling okay, use the safe word?"

Molly had to hold back her tears. "God, you're perfect. Now get undressed and get on the bed."

----------------------------

Bob was treated to everything he'd been missing as soon as Molly's pussy enveloped his cock. He was laying back against the pillows on their bed and holding her hands to offer her some extra support. It was entrancing, the way she bit her lip and moved her hips just ever so slightly, her fingers laced with his. He was supporting her as much as she needed him to, anticipating the way she was going to move. 

"Feel good, Bobby?" she whispered as she rode him in small yet fluid movements. 

He nodded, his glasses sliding down his nose as he felt her clench softly around him. "Molly," he moaned, letting his head tip back. "You don't feel nauseous or anything?"

"I'm okay," she promised, and very slowly, Bob sat up so she was straddling his thighs while she rode him. He pressed a kiss to the swell or her breast, wrapping his hands around her hips. 

As Bob stroked her soft skin with his thumbs, he kissed her lips and whispered, "Honey. You have a little baby bump."

"Do I?" she asked, pausing her movements to look down at her body. "I thought I was just bloated?"

Bob eased one hand along her belly in complete awe and let his fingers splay over her navel. "It's a bump."

When she looked up and met his eyes, she looked so excited. Bob couldn't be happier that she seemed to be warming up to the idea of parenting with him more each day. "It's a bump!" she gasped. "I feel like it's kind of early to be showing?"

Bob shrugged, his cock still hard and buried deep inside her pussy. He moaned softly against her neck as he felt her clench. "Not too early. And it's not that noticeable except that you're naked and right here with me. And Molly... I'm so excited."

Then her lips were on his, and her fingers were in his hair. She was kissing him so hard, she took his breath away, and each little movement of her hips felt heavenly. She kissed him and rode him while he praised her. It was intoxicating the way she just owned him, but Bob didn't let himself cum until she had. The soft roll of her hips and the long buildup left her screaming and shaking in his grasp, pawing at his chest. 

"I love you," she told him, lips pressed to his ear. "I love you." And Bob had no choice in the matter. He filled her up, let himself cum inside the woman he loved, too. 

When they both ended up in the bathroom to get cleaned up, he watched Molly turn every which way in front of the mirror, examining herself. 

"It really is a bump," she whispered, running her small hand along her belly. "Oh my god. Bob," she gasped, turning to look at him. "I'll be huge soon."

He just grinned and kissed her shoulder. "I can't wait."

-------------------------

Molly tried not to laugh. She tried her damndest. But as she stood in the living room eating a bag of Cheetos and watching Bob and Bradley struggle with one of the couches, she was literally cackling. 

"This is the heaviest fucking thing in the world," Bradley complained, glaring in her direction. "If I get injured two days before my wedding, your sister is going to be pissed. And if Bob gets injured, the rec league will be out a center fielder."

"You're such a turd," she said, chewing on her snack. "You'll both be fine. And hey, maybe this is just a wakeup call. Maybe you both need to hit the gym a little harder."

Now they were both glaring at her as sweat dripped down their faces. 

"Okay, okay," she said, licking her cheesy fingers. "I'll babysit Ev for you one night to say thank you. And you can go do whatever freaky shit you like to do with my sister."

"Appreciated," Bradley grunted. And then she got to sit and watch them force it through the front door of the condo. 

After both couches were out, Bob came back inside, wiping his forehead with the hem of his tee shirt. Molly hadn't been feeling great all day. The Cheetos were the only thing she seemed to be able to keep down, but she dragged Bob back to the bedroom anyway. 

"What's wrong?" he asked, fixing his glasses on the way. 

"Nothing, Bobby. My stomach is upset, but I'm horny at the same time," she replied, taking off all her clothes and laying out on the bed with her fingers on her piercings. "Take care of me."

She didn't have to wait long at all. Bob stripped down to his underwear and helped Molly up to the middle of the bed. Then he had her legs spread wide and his mouth was on her pussy. His broad shoulders were digging into her thighs as he licked her with one long stripe before looking up at her face. Molly was already panting and needy.

"I won't be rough at all. But you let me know if I'm doing something you don't like."

"God, Bobby! Just lick my pussy!" she whined, wiggling herself against his mouth as he grinned. 

"Anything you want," he promised before licking and sucking on her like she was the best thing he'd ever tasted. She was rolling her hips gently, enthralled by the smooth metal of his glasses on the insides of her thighs. 

"Coach Bob," she whined as he nibbled gently on her clit. "Good job, Coach."

But now Bob was grinding against the bed, and Molly was so close she was seeing stars. When she came with her hands on her nipples, Bob lifted up his wet face from his feast and pulled his cock free from his underwear. With a loud groan and five short strokes, Molly squealed in delight as he came all over her pussy and belly. She praised him as his cum hit her thighs. She reached for his hand and kissed his fingers as the last white ribbon landed on her flower tattoos.

"So hot," she gasped, holding his hand as she watched her boyfriend run his tongue through the mess he made. And then so gently, so as not to put any pressure on her belly, Bob braced himself on his elbow and kissed her. She licked all of his cum into her own mouth and whimpered. "I love you so much."

"You know," he replied, kissing her softly, "there was a time it would have hurt my feelings to hear you say that after I got you off."

She shook her head and cupped his face. "No, Bobby. I love you."

"I know it, Mo."

---------------------------

Bob didn't think he could be so relaxed the night before his own wedding. But Bradley was sitting on one of the two remaining couches in the condo, drinking a beer and watching a baseball game. Everett was laying with his head on the cushion, trying to stay awake, and Bob was on the other couch missing Molly. 

He kept texting her, and she was occasionally responding while she spent the night with her sister. When she sent a selfie of her smiling face, Bob softly said, "I bought a ring."

Bradley's attention was on him immediately, fully ignoring the game. "For Molly?"

"Yes."

"Did you propose?" he asked, glancing down to confirm that Everett was asleep.

"She told me not to."

Bradley's brow creased. "Like she told you to never propose to her? What the hell, man? She loves you. And you got her pregnant."

He sighed deeply. "I know. But she told me she'd tell me when she's ready. If she's ever ready."

"Damn," Bradley whispered. "I'll have a talk with her. I'm kind of attached to the idea of you as my brother-in-law."

Bob laughed and then groaned. "Please don't say anything to her. I'd be embarrassed. And you seem to trigger her anyway. She calls you a turd all the time."

"I'm pretty sure she means it with love behind it though?" Bradley asked, scratching his mustache.

"Probably. I have the feeling that you wouldn't be getting married tomorrow if Molly didn't approve of you."

"Shit," Bradley mumbled, looking alarmed now. "You're totally fucking right. I should be nicer to her? I never really wanted an annoying little sister, but here we are. No offense."

"None taken," Bob replied. Nothing about Molly was annoying to him. And it was almost a relief the way he knew Molly's sister and Bradley were close by and were protective of her. "You're getting the full package tomorrow. A wife, a stepson, and an annoying little sister."

Bradley shook his head. "You're getting a kid, too. And Molly will come around to the idea of getting married. But even if she doesn't, she's still yours."

Bob nodded. But what a concept. Molly was with him, but she couldn't be tamed. He wouldn't want to have a tame Molly anyway. She was ethereal. Otherworldly. A beautiful deviant. "Actually... I'm hers."

------------------------

Molly drove all over the place the day of the wedding. Her sister was being a bit of a diva about not getting any cookie crumbs on her wedding dress, but Molly was starving. She swore her bump had grown over the past week, and while Bob thought it looked cute, Molly thought she might try eating some vegetables. For the baby and for her. 

"I'm nervous."

Molly turned and gaped at her sister until she was scolded about watching where she was driving. "Why? What is there to be nervous about? Bradley is going to love you and your dress and all of it."

"I'm not nervous about that," she replied, looking out the window. "I'm nervous about later tonight. After the wedding and the ballgame."

Molly snorted. "You're nervous about your wedding night? What, is Bradley's dick suddenly too big for you or something? God, you really need to stop telling me about your sex life."

"No!" she replied, shaking with laughter. "I'm nervous about asking him if he wants to adopt Everett."

"Seriously? I'd be even less nervous about that than the actual wedding or the obligation you have to fuck Bradley all night. He's going to say yes to adopting Ev. He's going to shout it from the rooftops!"

"I hope so."

"And I know so. Because even though he's annoying half the time, he's proven his loyalty. He even came over and moved my couches with Bob again after he swore up and down that he wouldn't. And he's way more devoted to Ev than he is to Bob and I. Like, the man already basically is Ev's dad. Just let him have it on a piece of paper."

And then she started crying, and Molly almost drove off the side of the road.

"Stop! You'll wreck your makeup! You'll get mascara on your dress."

"I can't help it," she whispered. "I didn't know I could be with someone who loved Everett, too."

"For real," Molly mumbled, pulling into the lot at Petco Park. "Now I need to fix your face." 

And even though she was grumbling the whole time, she did fix the makeup disaster pretty well. When her sister reached out and said, "You have a tiny bump," Molly smiled as she put the cap on the lipstick. 

"I thought I was just bloated. I can't wait to find out if it's a boy or a girl. But I'm telling you right now, either way, the baby might get named Everett."

She started laughing again as they walked toward the ballfield together. "You pretty much named Everett for me, because I was high on pain medication and Danny was nowhere to be found."

Molly squeezed her hand and said, "I was more than happy to be there that day."

But when her sister stopped, Molly turned to look at her. "I know you think I somehow hit the lottery. Like I got this amazing upgrade from Danny to Bradley. And maybe that's true. But you're never going to have to worry about that. You struck gold right out of the gate. And I'm happy for you, Molly. I love you. And I love Bob. But damn, I wish you weren't comparing yourself to me. Because you're doing everything right all by yourself."

Molly stood there as her eyes filled with tears, running her hand over the navy blue dress that hugged her belly. She let the words soak into her skin and fill her up. "Thanks," she whispered. "We both did okay. It's time for you to get married."

As Molly stood on the alarmingly green grass near home plate, Bob had his arm around her and his chin resting on her head. The wedding vows were beautiful and so fitting, and Everett looked delighted by everything that was going on. And it was quiet and sweet and wholesome and private. And Molly thought maybe she'd definitely like to do this someday with Bob. Probably in a meadow of wildflowers while Bob held their child. 

"I love you," Molly whispered to him as she closed her eyes and turned to press her cheek against his strong chest. 

The rest of the ceremony was perfect. And the reception in the fancy owners suite was perfect. Molly ate nachos and soft pretzels until she was afraid she was going to pop. 

"Bob?" she asked. "I should probably be eating like a vegetable or something?"

He just laughed and pulled her close as she licked some nacho cheese off the side of her hand. "Honey, it's honestly probably a good idea. I'll cook you whatever you want. I'll make all the vegetables for you later tonight."

Molly moaned softly as she lured Bob closer to the corner of the suite, away from Nat and everyone else. "Will you feed them to me in bed while you fuck me?" she asked, looking up at him sweetly as his hands came to rest on her belly.

"Can you be quiet? Ev is spending the weekend with us."

"I don't know, Lieutenant Bobby. Maybe you'll have to gag me."

Bob was staring at her as Everett himself came running over to give Molly a hug, and she bent to kiss his cheek. "I can't wait for our sleepover," she whispered. "Don't tell your mom."

"I won't!" he promised, all smiles as he had clearly just had the best day of his little life. Molly watched him run back over to Bradley who immediately picked him up and smothered him in kisses.

"Are you going to be like that?" Molly asked Bob, pointing to where Bradley was laughing with Everett like they were in their own little world.

"Probably worse," he admitted with a smile of his own. 

--------------------------

Labor Day weekend had been perfect. Bob had taken Everett on a hike on Sunday morning so Molly could sleep in. Then they stopped at the beach and collected shells before picking up lunch and taking it back to eat with her. Monday consisted of a trip to the zoo and some back to school shopping, because Everett would be starting second grade later that week.

And when Molly left to drive Everett home on Monday night, Bob finally had some time to clean up the condo. He wiped down the kitchen counters, loaded the dishwasher and vacuumed. And the entire time, he thought about how his baby was approximately the size of a plum. And then for a split second, he thought Plum Floyd would be a cute name for a girl. And then he spiraled into a daydream where the baby was a girl with Bob's hair and Molly's eyes. He couldn't wait to find out what they were having.

Then he stood at the counter and started to sort through the mail. And there it was. A notice of deployment. He hadn't seen a deployment since January. He should have been expecting it. But he had become so caught up in Molly and the baby and how full his life felt... that he didn't have time for these thoughts to creep in. 

October first. He was going to miss the ultrasound that would tell them if it was a boy or a girl. But at least he'd be back before Molly's birthday and Thanksgiving. At least there was that. 

He was still holding the letter when Molly unlocked the front door and strolled inside. "Can you believe I'm kind of craving a celery stick? I'll have to dunk it in ranch dressing, but I'm craving the crunch, you know? The baby loves crunchy."

"Mo."

His voice sounded like a warning, even to his own ears. And Molly turned to look at him at the kitchen counter with parted lips and wide eyes. "What?" she asked softly, staring at him like she'd done something wrong. 

Bob rushed for her, wrapping her up in a hug. The urge to tear up the letter and pretend he'd never seen it was strong, but his desire to be the best he could be for his family was even stronger. 

"I'm deploying. On October first."

And then he had to watch Molly's face crumble into tears. He had to listen to her sobbing for the first time since the day she told him she was pregnant. He had to hold back his own despair, knowing he'd have to be strong for both of them. 

---------------------------

Everyone is getting deployed? Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who bugged me to make Molly and Bob a thing!

PART 10

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[deluweil]

Thanks for your response to that other anon about Tommy; you’re totally right. I also was intrigued, even liked him and Buck after their first kiss. But his closet comment and behavior on their first date, like he didn’t care that Buck has LITERALLY just figured out his bisexuality and that’s A LOT to process, his dismissive attitude towards Buck’s ideas and feelings (the bachelor party henley, the “enjoy it while it lasts” at the medal ceremony)….and then add in the way some fans have gone 0 to 100 on them so quickly, even calling them endgame, and likely at least in part JUST because it’s two men…it’s become such a turn off. I was neutral, even wanted to like them at first, but now am counting the days until it ends. And it’s not because I’m a BoB or would dislike any Buck LI that isn’t Eddie. And I don’t agree with anyone getting HATE (we can sideeye and judge people’s actions ($cameos$) But I think seeing Buck in a canon male/male relationship has caused some people to lose their damn minds. Ship and let ship! Stay in your sandbox, we’ll stay in ours!

LOL I am so removed from all the crowing bummies that I have to ask wth is BoB?

I actually went to look it up and found some interesting options, I am going with this one:

"Bob" is a generic and common name, and using it can be a way of avoiding formalities or creating a relaxed and approachable atmosphere

If you have the other meaning go ahead and tell me, like bummies I understand what benefits me in the moment😂

I kinda wish ppl will look up the meaning of "comphet" (I actually looked it up) that Ryan keeps bringing up in his interviews - that way ppl can stop saying crap things about him being the one to derail Eddie-T because he was supposedly against it. - Which is bullshit, Tim repeatedly said it was because the Natalia actress couldn't come back and M actress could. - Also, Originally T was supposed to be Lucy, she just couldn't come back so they took Lou in a pinch, so Obviously the endgame sure as shit wasn't the pilot.

And you're right, T's attitude was condescending at best, I was talking about it with a mutual the other day, and said that if they really had an interest to build BT properly, also by the time they came up with BT they knew they were being renewed for S8, they could have slowed into this. Actually make Buck's coming out story, a coming out story, not "So first date was a bust, how bout you come to my sister's wedding?" like who does that?

They could have started as friends with Lou being a gay guru, they could have had private dates until Buck was actually out to everyone and ready to be seen in public.

There could have been feelings involved that developed over time.

I gave the example of Tim-Ashley vs Nolan-Bailey from The Rookie, while Ashley was fairly kept to the background (btw she got more screen time than T, just saying) while Bailey was constantly and still being weaved into the story, intricated into Nolan's life, because he was meant to end up with her.

What ppl, who seem to have never watched good tv in their lives, don't seem to understand is that there is a way to write a story, and 911 not only screwed up spectacularly with Buck and Eddie's storylines, but they managed to make it clear from the get go that any LI to come along would be written just bad enough for it to be clear that they are not lasting.

Even furious, Eddie never walked away from Buck. Even when Buck was an asshole in 2x01, Eddie stood his ground and insisted they sort it through making it clear that they are on the same side, that he cares about him and wanting to be his friend. - His partner, a team.

Tommy, like all his predecessors, walked away as soon as something didn't fit his little comfort zone. Tommy walked away on that first date, he didn't contact Buck after that, Buck had to make contact and apologize for not being comfortable on his first date with a guy, like how messed up is that?

And Tommy's little acid retort in front of Eddie in the restaurant before that? From the side it's hilarious for someone who was never in that position. It was mean and uncalled for, but not exactly a surprise because T was never much of am understanding person, he was pretty much an ass from the get go in S2, only difference now is that he is out of the closet.

How did Athena put it when Michael first brought his new bf home after they got divorced? "If Michael had cheated on me with a woman, no one would have expected me to slap on a fake smile and welcome her into my home."

And that is exactly what the GA expects us to do, so what if Buck injured Eddie for attention? He's bi now.

So what if T was an ass and pretty much dismissive towards Buck and talks to him often in a bored way like one talks to a child? He's gay now.

A certain sexual preference does not excuse bad behavior. A person's behavior is supposed to be taken at face value, and not excused just because that person is now seeing someone who happens to be of the same gender.

Crappy behavior is just that - crappy behavior - equal accountability and all that.

I actually liked Taylor for Buck in S2, I think Lucy could have been perfect for him in S5, but the writers made sure to smear their characters in the eyes of the GA from the beginning, thus ending up with another failed relationship, while Buck's relationship with Eddie thrives from one episode to another for the last 7 seasons. One has to wonder about that even if they don't ship buddie.

Same pattern here with T. I was prepared to like him with Buck, I was prepared to see Buck making his way out of the closet with someone who would make him feel safe to do it, not kiss him unprepared under the pretense of coming originally on Eddie's behalf. Not that crap show that was that restaurant date. Not Buck apologizing after feeling insecure and exposed in public for the first time out of the closet and so many other things. - I'm getting the same vibes as Taylor looking through her phone in disinterest in 4x11 as Buck recites some google fact.

And you're right, the fans going from 0-200 after one kiss was just ridiculous, like chill people have you never seen two men kiss before?

I have, on screen and in RL, I grew up with lovely lgbtq+ friends from childhood, it's not all that. When my gay best friend dated someone who didn't treat him right, I told him to get rid of him. When my cousin's gf treated her like property and like she owes her something I urged her to find a better more nurturing person to be happy with.

Two men kissing is not endgame making, hell, from experience two men having sex (hot as it is) is not endgame making.

Love, passion, trust, security, fun, friends gatherings where they're cute and gross, can be made into a healthy endgame making relationship.

Buck and Tommy have physical attraction, they make for a steamy picture but nothing else.

And Lou, I am just... I don't know, I would have preferred not to find out the things he's done as cast of 911, I am just so disappointed.

I loved Lou, now it's just meh. Like he's trying to make as much money as he can before he finishes his way in the show is all kinds of wrong. Also very misleading to the ppl who are hanging on his every word. (And I don't think Oliver likes it either, he is pointedly ignoring any scene with T, not promoting anything that doesn't involve Eddie and Christopher or Buck's own development).

Even Ryan didn't know he was going to get shot until he got the 4x13 script, he was sure he was being killed off until he talked to whoever was showrunner at the time lol.

So Lou can't know he just talks out of his ass and make himself look bad in the process.

And I agree, ppl should be free to ship whoever they desire, but they are not entitled to force their desires upon others, I'm talking about both sides of the ships not just one. (Although I gotta say I've never got hate asks until a certain ship popped up this season. A lot of hateful - now blocked anons - that I refused to give stage to.)

These toxic battles are useless and made this season worse than it's writing.

All that's left is kick back and hope this season's last episode can salvage the poor and repetitive storylines we got this season, - I mean even Henren and Bathena got a replay of S4.

And don't even get me started of the fart shaped storyline Eddie got after switching last minute.

I'm tired lol

didn't mean for this to become this long monster, If you made it this far thank you, sending LOTS of love. ❤️

[sparklypinkflightsuit]

Blessed Be: Prologue

Pairing: Detective!Bob Floyd x Reader

WitchAU - Based on Practical Magic

Summary: Detective Bob Floyd is drawn by an unknown force to a little island he’s never heard of, only to fall for a woman he’s never met and to experience a world he never knew existed.

Warnings: Witchcraft, Swearing, Sexual Themes eventually, Slow Burn, Smut, Angst, Fluff, I think that’s it!

——————————-

Since Bob was a young boy he’d felt a pull. To what he wasn’t sure, but something always felt strange, and when he described this feeling to anyone, asking if they’d ever felt it too, they would laugh him off and say he was probably coming down with something.

He felt as though a light pressure inside him was always pulling him in a certain direction. Every choice he made in life was steered by this entity. Every sport he played in school, every class he took in college, every book he read and job he applied for, were all predetermined by this pulling sensation inside him.

Bob tried to ignore the feeling when he was younger, when it told him to do something, but this only caused the sensation to grow stronger until he inevitably couldn’t ignore it any longer. Bob decided it was easier to just let the feeling guide him and his every decision, and ultimately the sensation was always right. It had never led him astray, and he was happy with every decision he (or the sensation) had made.

Bob believed that everyone had this guiding force and they just didn’t realise it like he did, so stopped questioning it early on.

That was until one day, when for seemingly no reason at all, he got into his car and began driving to the coast, leaving what little belongings he had, and his job as a small town detective behind.

Bob had no idea where he was going, so he just drove until the force told him to change directions, until he saw the sigh for Whidbey Island, and the pull became almost impossible to ignore.

——————————————

“Here you go Mrs Hannaby, you rub this on your chest three times a day. It will keep the asthma at bay, and the lavender will help you get to sleep at night.” You smiled, handing the old woman a bag with your home made ointment.

“Thank you darling. I’ll see you next week for my top up. Say hello to your mother for me!” She waved as she left your little store.

You smiled as you tidied the shelves and re lit the white and green candles littering your shop windowsills. You hummed as you mulled around the quiet store, waiting for customers to come and go. You had a few regulars who frequented the store for your incredible home remedies and some just for the candles and soaps you made that had the most unique smells.

Most customers couldn’t believe the soothing effect that your lavender and chamomile sleep balm had, or how your Peppermint and Rosemary candles seemed to magically take away even the worst of migraines.

But it was your love drops that had everyone on the island going crazy. A concoction of fenugreek, arugula and bergamot (along with a little secret ingredient or two) that when dropped into a lovers wine would send their sex drive through the roof. This had single-handedly saved many marriages on the island.

You were flipping through one of your books and researching ingredients for a new candle you wanted to make, when suddenly the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You felt goosebumps rise and fall all along the length of your body, cold immediately followed by heat only to be repeated in waves again and again.

You turned around and your eyes scanned the empty store for anything strange. The air was electric and your heart raced for no explainable reason, seemingly only getting faster and faster until suddenly the bell sounded, and someone walked through the door.

Your skin was now on fire and you couldn’t breathe as the man walked in and closed the door behind him, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. If anything it felt like being overly excited for something you couldn’t explain.

“Hi.” He said gently, a crooked smile forming below cobalt eyes.

“H-hello…” you replied, suddenly at a loss for words. You felt like you recognised this man, but you couldn’t place where from. “Are you looking for anything specific?” You asked, trying to force yourself back to planet Earth.

“Uhh… I’m really not sure what I’m looking for.” He said, looking as confused as you felt. “I just saw the sign, and I…uhm…” he trailed off, frowning at the ground, trying to remember what brought him here.

“No problem, maybe I can help you.” You smiled as you rounded the counter. “Shopping for yourself? Or a family member… wife, girlfriend?” You probed, suddenly hoping it wouldn’t be either of the latter.

“Uh…. Yeah, myself.” He smiled, making eye contact with you for the first time as you came to stand next to him. Your breath left you as you took in the colour of his eyes, and how they crinkled in the corners.

“Sure. Most of the men that come in here like this balm, if it’s something you’re interested in. You put it on your neck after a shower and… well… it’s supposed to give you energy and help with endurance.” You chuckled. You realised the man couldn’t be from the island, and wouldn’t know about your abilities, so downplayed the real power of your products.

“Endurance?” He chuckled as he quirked his eyebrow, “No, I don’t think I need this, but thank you. Got anything else?” He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly.

You smiled, biting your cheek to keep from laughing.

“Okay, how about… ah, so I don’t know how superstitious you are, but if you’re ever in a dark place, figuratively or literally, you light this candle and tell it what your hearts deepest desire is at that moment in time. You then need to clap twice and blow it out.” You explained, growing a bit red in the cheeks as you realised how ridiculous you sounded.

“Oh yeah? Like a wishing candle?” He asked, his crooked smile growing bigger.

“Yeah, sort of. It only works in a time of need, and only if you wish for the one thing you want more than absolutely anything. Can’t go wishing for a million bucks… unless of course that’s what you want most in life.” You shrugged, biting your lip to keep from smiling too hard.

He chuckled and took the candle from your open palm.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll take one of these.”

You beckoned for him to follow you to the counter and you rang him up, putting the candle in a small paper bag.

“Here you go. Hope it comes in handy. It was nice to meet you…”

“Bob.” He confirmed, taking the bag. An electric shock zapped through your hands as your fingers touched lightly. You both pretended not to notice. “What’s your name?”

“Nice to meet you Bob, I’m (Y/N) but everyone here calls me Bree.”

“Why Bree?” He chuckled, realising it was nothing like your actual name.

“It’s short for Sabrina, as in-“

“Sabrina the Teenage Witch..” he finished your sentence, nodding. It made sense with all of the interesting balms and potions that sat neatly in your airy little store.

“Yup. I’ve had that nickname since highschool, and it’s kind of just stuck. I can’t remember the last time anyone called me (Y/N).” You laughed.

“Well, it sure was nice to meet you Bree. Hope to see you around.” Bob smiled, slowly making to walk out of the store with his little purchase in hand, as confused as he was when he walked in.

“You too Bob.” You smiled back as you watched him leave. Bob turned to look at you twice before he eventually made it out the door.

As Bob left the store, the same familiar tug urged him to turn back, and it was only once he reached his car and the tug grew stronger that he realised he hadn’t felt it in the store, for the first time in his life, the feeling was gone. He sat in his car for a long time, looking at the candle and thinking about what had just happened. A seemingly ordinary meeting with an extraordinarily beautiful woman, who for some reason felt incredibly familiar to him.

Bob shook his head and eventually drove away. But that night he wished he had bought a sleep candle instead. As he lay in the B&B bed and stared out the window at the night sky, all he could think about was how the feeling was growing stronger and how your face appeared every time he closed his eyes.

————————————

- Chapter 1 Here -

[teag-writes]

Teachers Pet

guess who's back!! me!! yay!! umm another request from my pookie bear @etherealhozier so thank her for this one! (also apologies for the unoriginal ass title, i couldnt think of anything else so yeah!!)

cw: age gap (20 sumthing years idk i cant do math!), pet names, thigh riding, cumming on leg (yum), i think thats it!!

You knew from a small age you wanted to catch “bad guys” for a living. Which is why immediately after you graduated high school, you had already enrolled in one of the criminal behavioural classes at the college you attended, as one of your main classes.  

After about a month of being at your university, you had settled in quite nicely as you got to know all of your teachers and other classmates. Now the love for criminal activity and all things crime being the main reason you were attending college, you promised yourself that you wouldn’t let anything get in your way. 

Until you saw him. Dr. Reid, or more formally known as the FBI agent turned professor, was the one who taught you and everyone else all about the interesting subject. He was tall, slender and had dark hair, and even darker eyes like he was hiding something. The way he talked so passionately about his life in the BAU made your stomach swirl. 

You knew this was completely wrong, having a crush on a man who was at least in his mid 40s, while you were in your early 20s. It almost disgusted you, the things you thought of letting him do to you, bending you over and smack-

“(Y/n). Are you paying attention?” A stern but quiet voice interrupted your daydreams as you looked at the man in front of you. 

“Yes sir. Sorry.” You said embarrassed. If he could read minds, you’d sure as hell be in a lot of trouble. 

He pursed his lips at you, forming a smile and giving you a nod and continued teaching. You groaned quietly, knowing this would be a long semester. 

—————————

After class, you’d packed your things up and were about to head off to your dorm for study time, when you were halted by a call of your name. 

“(Y/n). Can I speak to you for a moment?” Your professor had caught you red handed and you knew you were done for as you walked over to his desk, after he shut the door. 

“Your attention span has been decreasing lately. Is everything at home okay? Anyone bothering you?” He seemed genuinely concerned for you as he asked you. 

“No sir. Everything’s fine. I’m just… it’s hard to pay attention in class.” Your tone slipped out more seductive than it should’ve and you knew damn well what you were doing was wrong, but you couldn’t care less. Spencer swallowed harshly, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as you spoke to him. 

“Oh? Why’s that (y/n)? I’m not boring you, am I?” He said with a raspy laugh that made your stomach flip. 

“No, not at all sir. If anything,” you said looking him up and down. “It’s quite the opposite.” 

You were so nervous with what you were doing right now that you felt like throwing up. You took a step closer to the man in front of you and looked at him. 

“No. Stop.” He whispered out. “This is utterly inappropriate and so, so wrong.” He stopped you in your tracks and you started at him with embarrassment and guilt. 

“Shit, I’m… I’m gonna go.” You quickly grabbed your things and rushed out the door, Spencer yelling after you but you didn’t turn back. 

That night in your dorm, you couldn’t stop thinking about what happened as you got so frustrated with yourself. But within a few seconds, an idea popped into your head. If he really wanted you, you’d have to make him show you. And that’s exactly what you were going to do. 

—————————

The next day for class, you’d almost forgotten about what had happened when you remembered your plan. Make him want you. You thought to yourself if this was really what you wanted to do, yet you went through with the plan. You jumped out of your current skirt and replaced it with another, shorter, smaller one as you did the same with your shirt. You popped open the first few buttons and let your hair fall loosely over your shoulders, and decided to go with a dark red lipstick, with well as a pair of heels as you walked to class. 

Everyone had their eyes on you. Teachers, students, hell, everyone was gawking at you in awe. Whispers of shock fled peoples mouths as you walked into class and took a seat. You sat front row, as you always do, and waited for class to begin. The moment Spencer walked in, you stopped breathing, remembering that this was all for him. 

“Good morning class…” Spencer trailed off of his sentence as he saw you, and let out a choked cough.  “Pardon me, I must’ve had something in my throat. Please take out your notebooks, we will be talking notes today.” The whole entire time Spencer was speaking, he didn’t take his eyes off you once. And that continued throughout the whole lesson. 

By the time class was done, everyone had made their way out as you remained last again, trying to pack up quickly when an angry seeming voice halted you once again. 

“(Y/n). We need to talk.” Spencer didn’t seem impressed at all, but that only filled you with more lust. You gave him a warm, innocent smile and sat back down as he closed his door again. 

“Is something wrong, Dr?” You batted your eyelashes at Spencer and you hated every second of it, but you needed him. 

“Don’t call me that.” He had a furious look on his face, as he stepped closer towards you. “What’s going on with you today? The makeup and clothes, I mean.” 

You playfully spoke back to him as he asked you a question. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He groaned as you spoke to him, tipping his head back slightly. “Don’t play dumb with me, (y/n). You know what you’re doing.” 

He lunged forward to you and grabbed your wrist, hard but not too hard. 

“Is it working, Dr?” You purred back at him, and that only made things worse as he gently put his hand around your neck. 

“Yes. Yes it is, (y/n). Your little “whore” getup makes me sick. God, you don’t know what you do to me.” He said growling back at you. As he continued his grip on your neck, another hand made its way down to your legs and stopped at your heat. 

“Fucking soaked. Bet you’ve thought about this hm? Me pinning you against this wall and fucking you raw?” 

You moaned at his harsh, lustful words as he continued circling your clit through your panties. His grip tightened when you didn’t answer, making you squeal loudly. 

“Answer me. Have you thought about this, (y/n)? 

“Yes.” Was all you managed to breathe out. 

“Atta girl.” He praised you as he let go of your neck, sitting back down his desk chair. You stared at him with confusion, not knowing what to do. 

“C’mere.” He patted his thigh and motioned you to come sit on his lap. You immediately complied, straddling yourself right over his bulge, making you gasp. 

“If you want this so bad, you’ll get off on my thigh while I grade these papers.” He cooed gently at you, moving the hair out of your face. The angry man that was there seconds ago, was now gone. You whimpered at his command, as you knew you were going to have to work for it. 

“I know baby, I know. You’ll be okay.” He praised softly, as he leaned in for a kiss. You let his tongue swipe yours, as his teeth grazed your bottom lip, making you moan. He pulled apart from the kiss and you groaned at the loss of contact. 

“I know you wanted me to fuck you, but there’s consequences when you come into my office dressed like that. I’m being nice and at least letting you get off, hm? Such a good girl.” 

You couldn’t even be mad at him, his sweet tone had taken complete control over you. You started moving your hips against his leg, slowly and painfully, eliciting a moan from your lips that only made him twitch under you. You slowly started to speed up your movements, already feeling your muscles spasm over his cock. His hands made their way from the papers on his desk to your hips, moving them expertly against his leg. He saw that you were getting tired, so he naturally bucked his leg repeatedly into your wet cunt. 

The familiar coil in your stomach began to break apart and you came tortuously hard on his leg with a loud moan, not caring if anyone heard. He bucked his leg into you again, riding you through your orgasm as you let out sweet little whimpers. 

“Shh shh, I’ve got you baby. It’s okay. Good girl.” All the little praises he mumbled to you made you needy enough to come again, but you couldn’t. Instead, you sit there with your head on his shoulder, all fucked out because of him. 

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

The Truth of the Matter

A Four Part Miniseries

@wonderland-girl143-blog @gregre369 @420-hun

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Steve lay in bed, staring up at his ceiling. He had driven in silence the whole way home as he thought about Bob and still remained quiet after they all walked through the door. There had been a couple of times that he had gone into Radioshack for something, and he had thought there was something familiar about the man. Had that been the connection he had sensed? Did Bob know it, too, or was he blind to what the rune had been hiding? Did his father die not knowing that his son had been within his grasp? Steve wanted to kill the Harringtons. What was he supposed to do with his last name? How could he prove that he was a Newby? How could anyone understand that? The question was. . .was he ready to let go of a part of himself he lived with his entire life even if it wasn't real?

"I can hear you thinking over there," Eddie mumbled sleepily.

It was decided by the kids that they would just spend the night since it was so late. Steve had spent 10 minutes watching from the stairs as Eddie had spun around like a cartoon character as he tried to figure out where to sleep. He was clearly struggling to stay with the kids or to follow Steve into his room. Robin eventually joined Steve on the stairs to watch, and they giggled for a while to whisper about Eddie. Finally, Steve took pity on him and dragged him upstairs. Now, here he was, lying shirtless in bed with Steve with his cheek pressed into the other pillow and his hand placed on Steve’s chest.

"I'm just thinking about Bob. . . He never. . .he never knew I was here. Right here. . .all this time," Steve whispered.

"I'm sorry, baby," Eddie whispered.

"I don't know how to process it," Steve said, tears coming to his eyes. "I'm sorry, you can go back to sleep."

"I'm not going to sleep until you do," he said softly.

"I just keep picturing Joyce looking for Will. . .did he go through all that. . .only to come up with nothing?" Steve sobbed.

Eddie scooted across the bed and laid on his chest, holding him tightly. Steve cried into his hair and quickly cried himself to sleep. When he woke up, Eddie was gone, and he heard the sound of clattering pans downstairs. Steve rubbed his eyes and threw on a shirt he found on his floor before stumbling downstairs and into the kitchen. Eddie was sitting on the counter, sipping coffee, and wearing Steve’s yellow sweater. He handed Steve a cup and welcomed his kiss.

"I tried to cook for you, but Dustin wouldn't let me," Eddie said.

"Can you cook?" Steve asked.

"Well, no, but I wanted to do something nice for you," Eddie said.

"Poisoning him isn't the nicest thing to do, especially since he's your boyfriend!" Dustin exclaimed.

"I'm not that bad," Eddie pouted.

Steve laughed and stepped between his legs, leaning back against his chest.

"He loves cooking," Steve said. "He learned from his mom, and he loves to do it for other people."

"I know we joke, but I love that shithead like a brother," Eddie whispered in Steve's ear.

"Yeah, me too," Steve grinned.

"I heard that!" Dustin smiled.

"The others still asleep?" Steve asked, sighing.

"Very much so," Eddie said.

Suddenly, Robin wandered in, yawning and rubbing her eyes. Half of her hair was sticking up wildly.

"Coooofffffeeeee!" Robin moaned.

"And so the coffee zombie enters the room. Watch out, she's a biter!" Steve exclaimed with a laugh.

Robin glared at him and swiped his coffee. She hopped up on the island, sitting across from them.

"This is all very domestic, you know," Robin said, wiggling her eyebrows at Steve.

"I know," Steve grinned.

Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist and pressed a hard kiss to his cheek. Steve giggled.

"I hope you know that this dingus is my best friend in the whole world. He means a lot to me," Robin said to Eddie.

"You threatening me, Buckley?" Eddie asked.

"No, I just wanted you to know that it would break my heart to see him cry because of you especially since I actually fucking like you," Robin said.

"I actually fucking like you, too," Eddie grinned. "You know, you'd get along with Ronnie."

"Ronnie?" Robin asked.

"My best friend in the whole world," Eddie said. "She's in NYU right now studying to become a lawyer."

"So, you have a platonic soulmate too?" Robin grinned.

"Yeah, and I'm so fucking proud of her," Eddie said.

After breakfast was done, Steve dropped the kids off at their house. They had complained the whole way.

"But Steve, what about the address in Indianapolis?!" Dustin asked.

"Yeah, we can help," Mike said.

"As much as I appreciate it, you guys need to do your homework, and I think your parents want you back home," Steve said with a sigh. "I don't want them to think I kidnapped you."

"Too soon, Steve," Lucas said.

"What? Even though I said it, and it happened to me?" Steve asked.

"Definitely," Mike said.

Dustin was the first one to be dropped off, and then it was Lucas. Mike was the last one. He paused before getting out of the car.

"I'm sorry about Bob. . .I hope you find your mom," he said softly.

After he stormed inside, Nancy came out with. . .Chrissy Cunningham? They were talking and giggling on their way to Steve’s car. Eddie grinned and rolled down Steve’s window.

"How's it going, Big Wheels?" Eddie asked.

"I told you not to call me that," Nancy laughed as she leaned against the car.

"Oh, did you?" He asked innocently.

"What have you guys been up to?" Nancy asked. "I didn't think you liked Steve very much."

"Uh, turns out I do, very much," Eddie said, blushing. "Very friendly. Just a couple of dudes hanging out."

Steve smiled and leaned over to whisper in his ear. Eddie giggled before nodding his head.

"Eddie is now my boyfriend," Steve replied.

"That's great!" Chrissy exclaimed.

"Thanks, Chrissy, it's good to see you again," Steve said.

He stared at her, feeling a sense of familiarity that he had never felt from her before. He didn't feel like he was related to her, but. . .they were the same. Chrissy tilted her head to the side, and she looked at him in surprise before grinning, her eyes turning an inhuman shade of green. Steve felt his eyes glow, too. She was a fairy, not a relative but a fairy like him.

"How did you remove your rune?!" Chrissy asked excitedly.

"Oh, uh, a witch," Steve said. "You?"

"Same, I accidentally ran into one when I went on vacation with my parents over the summer. Although they're not really my parents, they killed my birth parents," Chrissy sighed.

"Jesus! That fucking sucks. My dad died, but I'm still trying to find my mom," Steve said.

"You're a fairy, too?" Nancy asked in surprise.

"You know about Chrissy?" Eddie asked. "How do you know about Chrissy?"

"How do you know about Steve?" Nancy asked.

"I'm the witch who removed his rune," Eddie smirked.

"Chrissy told me about herself," Nancy said.

"I didn't even know you were friends with Chrissy," Steve said.

"Well, we were friends when I was on the squad, but we recently reconnected," Nancy said, blushing.

"Nancy Wheeler was a cheerleader?" Robin asked.

"Very briefly. And I was horrible," she said.

"You were not!" Chrissy exclaimed.

"I was very distracted," Nancy said and looked meaningfully at her.

"Oh!" Steve exclaimed in surprise.

"Am I missing something?" Robin asked.

Chrissy shared a look with Nancy, and she smiled, nodding.

"Nancy and I dated when she was on the squad," Chrissy revealed.

"Oh! There's a lot more queer people in this town than I thought," Robin said with a grin. "Then again, I didn't think there were fairies or witches or an alternate dimension underneath Hawkins. I don't know which ones I'm more surprised about. I'm a lesbian, by the way."

Chrissy giggled.

"What are you guys doing now?" Nancy asked.

"Going to follow up on an address in Indianapolis that might lead to Steve’s mother," Robin said. "But first, Steve needs to drop me off so I can change my clothes."

"Me too!" Eddie yelled.

"You guys want some help?" Nancy asked.

"She can't resist an investigation," Chrissy teased.

"No, I really want to help!" Nancy exclaimed.

"Babe, I was teasing you. I know how big that heart of yours is," Chrissy said. "But you also can't resist searching for clues."

"Come along," Steve said with a grin.

Nancy grinned before rushing off towards the house. Chrissy's eyes never left her, watching as she disappeared through the front door. Chrissy smiled fondly.

"You guys are cute," Robin said.

"Thanks," Chrissy said.

A moment later, Nancy came out of the house arguing with Mike. He huffed loudly, flipped her the bird, and stormed into the house. Nancy slid into the back seat of Steve’s car with Chrissy.

"Having a little brother looks like a lot of fun," Robin said.

"Oh, yeah, you should try it," Nancy said sarcastically. "By the way, Chrissy, I was looking in my purse when I found this."

She pulled out a large magnifying glass out of her purse.

"I found that, and I thought of you," Chrissy said sweetly. "And I thought it would be funny."

Nancy smiled and leaned over to kiss her before quickly moving back again. Chrissy bit her lip.

"I can't believe I'm the only one not in a queer relationship," Robin sighed dramatically.

"You would be if you just told Vickie," Steve said.

"We don't know if she likes women!" Robin exclaimed.

"We didn't know that Nancy liked women until today!" Steve yelled as he drove off. "We didn't know I was a fairy until yesterday!"

"That's all very fair points," Robin said.

"My dad died without ever knowing what happened to me. The question you have to ask yourself. . .Is Vickie worth taking the risk?" Steve asked.

"Fine! Fine! After this, I'll make a move," Robin said.

"You know, Cunningham, this isn't the first time we've hung out," Eddie said.

"It's not?" Chrissy frowned and then paused. "You know, you do look familiar."

"It's going to come to you," Eddie replied with a smile.

"Oh! You look like the witch who took the rune off of me!" Chrissy exclaimed.

"Wait. . .what?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, his name was. . . Oh, it was Allan!" Chrissy exclaimed.

"Oh, fuck!" Eddie cursed. "That's my dad, which means. . . My dad was the one who placed the rune on you."

"Small world," Steve said.

"Yeah, I had to pay a pretty penny to get him to do it," Chrissy said.

"Of course, you did," Eddie sighed. "My dad doesn't do anything for free, nor does he do anything out of the goodness of his heart."

"Do you think your dad's the one kidnapping the fae children?" Nancy asked.

"I wouldn't put it past him," Eddie muttered. "Fucking piece of shit that he is. Anything to earn a profit."

"Sorry," Nancy said softly and squeezed his shoulder.

Steve squeezed his hand and held it all the way to Robin's house. Robin hurried to go into her house to change and then talk with her parents. She came out with a bag of cookies.

"Mombie's famous cookies!" Robin exclaimed as she slid back into the car. "Oh, she said this is for you and to wish you good luck. She would have come out, but she tripped over the dog again."

Robin leaned over the seat and gave Steve a slobbery kiss on the cheek. When it was Eddie's turn, he was in the trailer with his uncle Wayne for the longest time. When he came out, he was wearing a Corroded Coffin shirt, and his uncle was leaning against the doorway. Eddie stopped, spun around, and hugged his uncle tightly before running back to the car. He slid back into the passenger's seat with a grin and held up a baggie of sandwiches.

"He insisted when I told him Robin's mom made cookies. He can't cook for shit but he can make some pretty good sandwiches," Eddie grinned.

"Hey, how annoyed would you be if I set my mom up with your uncle?" Robin asked.

"Not very," Eddie cackled. "I LOVE your mom's cookies. Let's parent trap them."

"Done," Robin said and shook hands with him.

Steve smiled and waved at Wayne before driving out of the trailer park, heading towards Indianapolis.

"Oh, Corroded Coffin! How could I forget?!" Chrissy exclaimed, pointing at Eddie's shirt.

"I don't know, you're a freak," Eddie said, and she giggled. "My head was buzzed, and I didn't have these sweet tatties so. . .easy mistake to make, especially since I didn't tell you my last name."

The older teens fell into an easy discussion on the way to Indianapolis. Nancy talked about how she thought she was a lesbian for the longest time and how when things ended with Chrissy, Nancy had been surprised to find herself attracted to Steve, to the kindness she witnessed him give to another student when he was without Tommy by his side. Nancy had discovered a new part of herself, but she didn't deny the other part either. Chrissy had talked about her crush on Eddie before knowing that he was the same Eddie from her talent show. Nancy had pretended to be jealous, but there was this understanding between them that in another life, Nancy would have been with Steve or Jonathan while Chrissy would have ended up with Eddie or perhaps even Steve. The discussions quickly turned into which celebrity they each had a crush on. Nancy also talked about her break up with Jonathan and how it went better than Chrissy's break up with Jason, how they were both there for each other afterward. . .

"We're here," Steve said.

Robin unstuck her drool covered cheek from the window. She blinked rapidly.

"Shit. . .when did I fall asleep?" Robin asked.

"Right when I was talking about heavy metal," Eddie snorted. "I'll try not to be offended."

They climbed out of the car and walked up to a small, boring looking gray house. No one would look twice at it. It was perfect for anyone trying to blend in. Steve stood in front of the door and took a deep breath before knocking. They all waited with baited breath, but no one answered. Steve knocked again, and this time, the door seemed to open on its own. It hadn't been locked or closed at all, though. They stepped into a one room, open space house with a door in the back corner leading to a bathroom, right next to the kitchen. A layer of dust indicated that a bed had been there once, as well as a couch and a desk.

"No fairy markings," Chrissy frowned, her eyes glowing green.

"Fairy markings?" Steve asked.

"Markings only fairies can see, a way for the fae to pass secrets to each other or messages to leave for their lost children," Chrissy said. "It's how I found my parents."

"You seem to know more than me," Steve said softly.

"A little more but not much," Chrissy said. "I still have so many questions."

"Yeah," Steve said softly.

They looked around the house and found nothing. Nancy took out her magnifying glass when she saw Chrissy glance her way, and she winked.

"If I'm going to investigate, I'm going to do it the right way," she said. "Thank you again for the wonderful gift, baby."

Chrissy kissed her before moving onto look for clues as well.

"Now all we need is a talking dog," Eddie said.

Steve stood in the kitchen and began looking through the cabinets as well as the drawers. He came to the last drawer and let out a holler.

"Guys!"

"What did you find?" Nancy asked.

"Part of an envelope," Steve said. "It's torn. . .no letter in it, but there is an address for a house. . . In Lenora Hills?"

Nancy hurried over and looked over Steve’s shoulder.

"Well, it's not Jonathan's house. . .so you're not related to them," Nancy said.

"I fucking hope not, I once had a sex dream about you and Jonathan," Steve said.

"What?!" Nancy exclaimed.

"Focus, baby," Chrissy giggled.

"Well, I guess we're going to Lenora Hills. . ." Eddie grinned.

"All of us are going?" Steve asked.

"Yes!" Nancy, Chrissy, and Eddie exclaimed.

"Lenora Hills, it is then. . . How the fuck are we going to get there?" Steve asked. "Not all of us can afford a plane ticket."

"Magic, sweetheart, magic," Eddie whispered in his ear.

Part Four

[daydreams-after-dark]

What's your fanfic fantasy? part 11

Chapter Contents.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10 // Part 11 // Part 12 // Part 13 // Part 14 //

Premise: fem reader + Chan + Jisung 18+ fanfic. This is an AU story about Chan bringing your fantasies to life... but what happens when boyfriends Chan and Han fall in love with you?

Chapter Summary: Bath time with Chan

Warnings: bath sex, choking, dirty talk, sore vagina, pain kink? just more chan and y/n :-)

Chan pov.

Chan leaves you laying in bed while he goes to draw you a bath. Jisung had wanted the room with the biggest bathroom. “The one with the humongous tub.” He’d said to Chan. He smiles to himself as he pours some bubble bath under the running tap and the scent of strawberries fills the air. Jisung loves sweet bubble bath, sweet body wash and, even sweet candles. Right, candles. Chan hurries himself to light the numerous candles that had been placed on every surface of the bathroom. Anyone would think it's a homewares and gift store with the excessive number of them scattered around the room.

“Wow this looks romantic.” Chan turns to find you leaning on the door frame to the bathroom. His breath hitches when he sees your beautiful naked form.

Chan clears his throat “It’s all Jisung.” He shrugs. “He’s a bit of a sucker for this sort of thing.”

“What? Sickly sweet smells, or romance?” you muse.

“Both!” he looks down at the expanding bubbles. “Sorry, it’s the only bubble bath we have.”

“It’s perfect, Chan.” You slink closer to perch on the side of the tub.

Once the tub has finished filling, Chan climbs in and gestures for you to come sit between his legs, leaning your back against his chest.

It reminds him of the previous day when you were laying with him on the bed while you were blindfolded. He’d wanted to touch you so badly then, but he was grateful for the small amount of contact you had shared. Until he fucked your face that is.

“Y/n?” he says, breaking the silence that had fallen between you.

“Mmm hmm?” You nestle into him more. You look so sexy surrounded by bubbles.

“W-when… we were with Minho…” he sighs nervously “I didn’t hurt you when I… you know?”

You reach for Chan’s hands that had been resting on your stomach. “Channie,” you soothe. “I loved what you did to me…” You guide his hands to cup your plump breasts that are bobbing just above the water level.

“Promise?” Chan prods for more reassurance.

“Fuck yes.” You reply with a hint of frustration.

Fuck, he must have sound so insecure and needy. It isn't like him to be like this, even with Jisung.

“Chan, touch me like you wanted to on the bed, when we were waiting for Minho.” You demand softly.

Chan’s dick hardens immediately just at the thought of what he’d wanted to do. Silently, Chan begins to massage your swollen breasts, eliciting a low moan from you. Your nipples are perfectly pink and hard between his thumb and forefinger. He pinches one of them extra hard so he can see you squirm, and he chuckles silently to himself.

“More, Chan… please.” You are loving every moment of this as much as he is. You writhe against him, desperately, your body begging him to touch you more.

He slides one hand down your stomach, his palm gliding against your wet skin, and stops when his fingers find your pussy.

“Spread your legs for me, baby. I need access.” He instructs gruffly. “Yes, that’s it. Good girl.” His fingers part your lips. They are so swollen and engorged that he isn't sure if it's really a good idea to be doing this. But your reactions and encouragement spur him on.

Chan’s other hand wanders up to grasp your neck. He has never had the desire to squeeze someone’s neck before. Not until he had found himself with his had around yours the previous day. You were unlocking urges in him that he didn’t know he had. He nuzzles his face into your shoulder while he grips your slender neck just a fraction tighter, but not enough to actually restrict your airway.

You gasp and let your head loll back, giving him more access. You part your mouth and start to grind against his erection, as he massages your clit. She likes this.

“Ch-chan?” You whimpered.

“Yes baby. Is this okay?”

You pause. Chan releases his grip slightly worried it's too much.

“Choke me… more.” You say finally.

Something inside Chan stirs and he's overcome with a sense of power and control. It has been threatening to come to the surface over the past couple of days. You are doing things to his sanity. This is different to how Jisung makes him feel. You make him want to hurt you? Jisung makes him want to protect him.

“Are you sure?” he needs to double check.

“Choke me…please.” You repeat. It sounds like you're in your own world, loose and submissive. He could probably do anything right now and you'd willingly accept it.

Chan’s hand resumes the grip on the side of your neck. His hand almost covers the entire surface if he splay his fingers slightly. Then he applies some pressure, being careful not to push too hard against your airway. You make a choked cry, but you are still breathing relatively fine because your chest is heaving with arousal.

The fingers on your clit slide down to your opening, and as he tightens his grip on your neck even more, he sinks two fingers inside of you. You arch your back off of his chest, writhing with pleasure, spasming as though you're possessed. The only thing keeping you anchored in place is his grip on your neck and his fingers in your cunt. Chan is living for it. He feels so dominating, and he loves it. He needs to be inside you again. Immediately.

With his fingers securely inside you, Chan slides you up his body to make room for his cock. “Babygirl… I know it’s hard… but I need you to guide my cock inside you.” He kisses your cheek. “Can you do that for me?” He isn't sure if you've registered his voice, but as he hoists you up by your pussy you reach down and guide his cock to your entrance. Just as he’d asked. Chan withdraws his fingers from your vagina and spread your lips apart with two fingers, allowing the head of his cock to press into you “Good girl. Yes.. Fuck.” He groans.

Chan feels his dick being gripped like a vice as he lowers you down his length. He doesn't know how you're able to accommodate his cock after so much fucking. You definitely feel swollen. It has to hurt.

He roughly circles your clit as he begins to thrust from below. His grip on your neck still strong. He bites into it with a growl. “You’re so fucking incredible. You’re so tight. I know I’m hurting you, but you take me so well. So fucking good.” He grunts as he slams up into you. “My good girl. Letting me fuck you so hard.”

You cry out underneath him, but Chan can't stop. If anything he squeezes your neck tighter, and presses harder on your clitoris as he loses all control. You are driving him absolutely insane, like some sort of animal has been unleashed inside of him. Like a wolf who has just caught his prey, and now he is devouring his catch. The knot in his stomach grows strong as he nears his high.

Chan feels you tighten around him even more, gripping his cock painfully. You are close. Your moans and whimpers growing loud and unashamed.

“That’s it. You love this don’t you? Being completely at my whim. Having me own you. Letting me fuck you how I want. Unable to move. Unable to escape. Your only option is to take what I have to give. All of me. Until I say I’m done. Even if it hurts.” He growls.

You scream as your whole body convulses. Your legs tremble, your pussy clenches, your hips grind against him, making Chan come hard against your cervix. He cries out equally as loud, then muffles his moans in your neck.

Your orgasms feel like they're lasting an eternity, before your muscles give out and you both slump back against the tub panting.

“Jesus. Fuck. I don’t know what came over me.” Chan wraps his arms around your waist and nestles his cheek against yours. He hopes to God that he wasn’t too much for you.

“Channie?” You pant.

“Yeah?” he kisses your cheek. Please say this was okay, he thinks to himself.

“That was the best orgasm of my life.” You declare.

Chan feels a pang in his chest, a mixture of love and relief washes over him. She liked it. The best of orgasm of her life. This woman really is perfect.

“Really? I’m not sure Ji would want to know that.” He teases, squeezing you lovingly.

“Well… I guess we will have to give him the best orgasm of his life in the morning then.” You reply decisively.

“Let’s plan to only have our best orgasms together… the three of us.” Chan whispers. He thinks ahead to all of the love to be made between the three of you and closes his eyes to fight back happy tears.

a/n: next up is a bit of a change of pace as we get a chapter from Minho's pov as he waits for Hyunjin to arrive at the house.

@rylea08 @channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @kangnina @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @chuuchuu1224 @fun-fanfics @wolfennracha @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @rixenluv @piscesrising01 @lunearta @shltsnglggles @lilbabiebunni @jiminssluttyminx @armystay89 @krayzieestay @stellasays45 @hxnnielk @yaorzu-blog @anjian03 @tsunderelino @igetcarriedawaywithyou @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @privhace @kyunchoni @writhingwrecked @kisses-too-the-moon @justforreaders @melochacco @scenuniverse @oddracha @meilix @ismokeeweed @leftovercigarettes @galaxycatdrawz