#wrote a tiny bit more after getting this ask

[stxrvel]

tis the damn season

a season of sadness wanted to come to an end. 'tis the damn season and you thought maybe you could go home and live with your mate the way it was meant to be…

pairing: azriel x f!reader

wc: +3.5k

warnings: pure angst, cuss words and slight (or light? soft?) unprotected (wrap it up) smut. no happy ending, sorry

note: hi guys! :)- i wrote and published this one some time ago, but i deleted it because it was poorly received and that disappointed me a bit. but now that i was able to read it again, i feel it's a good job and that should be enough for me. i hope you guys like it :). see u next time!

Azriel was your mate. You had known for a couple of months. He knew it long before that, too. The bond snapped first for him, but he never tried to get close to you. You didn't know if it was out of fear or if he never agreed with what was chosen for the two of you by the Cauldron. 

Likewise, you never had time to ask. The battle against the King of Hybern almost cost you your life. You didn't know what things had been done outside of your consciousness to keep you alive, you didn't know what boundaries Rhysand had crossed to bring you back to life, and you never wanted to ask either. You never asked anything, living in that ignorance gave you a sense of peace you didn't want to get rid of. 

But things were never the same after that. From the day you woke up, everything felt different. During that time, you didn't allow yourself much time to delve into what the recent bond between you and Azriel meant, and he always agreed to give you your time. 

However, one day, out of nowhere, it all became too overwhelming. And you decided to run away.

You never said anything to anyone, and you closed the door so Azriel couldn't feel you. You knew it must've been painful for everyone, especially your mate, but being with all of them after everything that had happened was unbearable. You lived under a constant reminder of suffering, violence and blood. You couldn't stop seeing your hands full of blood every time you closed your eyes, guilty for the lives they had taken as if you had had any right to do so, but having to know daily that it was all justified. Velaris and the permanence of the rest of Prythian justified it.

So, you went far away, to the other side of the world, to the east. To the Continent. 

And life was not easy at all. You knew Azriel wasn't having a good time. After a while, the wall you both had built around the bond was beginning to crack and his emotions were seeping through those tiny cracks. You could sometimes feel his sadness, his pain… his anger. After a couple of minutes of heartbreaking grief, the pangs of anger would appear. You could tell what he was going through and, selflessly, you tried to think that your decision was for the best. 

Rhysand wrote to you almost daily. Paper with his handwriting constantly appeared around you and, although you never answered him, he always made it a point to let you know everything that was going on in Velaris. 

The first few days were the hardest. 

There was a heavy snowfall on the Continent when you arrived, something that had never been more than a welcome, tearing at your skin. The cold was so deadly and the gales so lethal that you couldn't leave the apartment you were renting for a whole week. Apparently, at that time, that was normal. The cold that fogged up the windows, that froze your limbs, and that made all signs of life disappear. 

Where are you? Azriel is very worried

Please, answer me 

Y/N 

WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU???? 

Cassian and Azriel are flying over Velaris. Can you just tell me, please? 

Y/N, we are very worried. Please.

Please.

You had a lot of tugging on your bond from Azriel. You could feel his desperation even through the walls of silence. Those were difficult days. The cold days were not comforting at all. 

However, as the months passed, with the cultural difference and the harshness of reality outside of the family you had known for as long as you had memories, so many hundreds of years ago, you gave in to Rhysand's wishes to return to Velaris on the night of the Starfall.

And that night… well, you hadn't told anyone you were going. 

But as you expected, Azriel was the first to know you were there. 

You heard the flutter of his wings before you saw him, towering in the moonlight against the dim lighting in the city in anticipation of the biggest celebration of the year. He stumbled as he fell, being one of the few times you had seen him unable to control his strength, staggering with his feet and hands to get to a safe distance from you. His breathing was rapid, almost erratic and his eyes were bright, crystallized. The stirring movement in your chest brought tears to your eyes. 

Azriel was there in front of you from the moment he had the slight feeling, because he knew the bond wasn't wrong. And his gaze reflected everything. Everything he wanted to say and everything he preferred to keep silent. You had never felt so strongly the need to be close to him; you hadn't even accepted the bond, but you felt as if you had just done it. His eyes roamed the features of your face, his expression contracting as if he was slowly processing that you were really there in front of him. 

You saw him raise one of his hands, the hands that had so often held you in the darkness and through the sadness. If you focused really well, you could almost notice how his body trembled at the closeness, with anticipation, just as your body shuddered at his presence. 

The effects of the bond were powerful. But that hadn't been what made you fall in love with him. 

Azriel took a tentative step forward, reaching out his hands as if in a trance, seeking to touch you to make sure it was really you in front of him and not some kind of hallucination. Your voice stopped him on his feet. 

“Hello, Azriel,” you could barely speak, that suffocating feeling of being close tightening your throat. His eyes moved quickly back to yours and watered once more, his breathing quickening again. You didn't know what you had awakened in him just by speaking to him once more after so long without seeing him, but it must've been the same thing that ignited in your body when he spoke. 

“Y/N,” he elongated your name, like a plea or a prayer, you weren't sure. Electricity coursed through your body in a matter of seconds and you felt your feet move before you could stop them. The emotion rising in your chest matched your mate's expression, nostalgic because it had been so many months since you had last been so close and yet more pained and suffering because you had been the reason all that pain now surrounded you both. 

You stopped just inches away from him, your hands itching with the need to touch him, to feel him close, to once again have that warmth that would warm and thaw your soul. His huge, beautiful wings were taut behind him, being that all his attention was focused on your every move. You saw him hold his breath as you approached, struggling hard to hold back the tears that welled up in his eyes. 

“Are you okay?” you whispered the question, the air stealing your confidence, perhaps feeling a little silly and embarrassed about it. Suddenly, you felt too small under his gaze. 

“Okay?” the change in his voice was hardly imperceptible, sending shivers throughout your body, the panic of fear making its way into your chest, the bond tightening as if both ends were being pulled at the same time. “You left for a year without telling anyone. We went months without knowing if you were okay. I couldn't… I couldn't… feel you.” 

His voice became shaky, each word brimming with a tinge of suppressed anger. 

“Do you think I'm anything close to okay?” 

Yes, it was a stupid question. The knot in your chest grew rapidly, the back of your throat burning with pent-up tears. 

“I can't even enjoy the relief of seeing you now because… I'm so angry.” 

“I know…” you barely mumbled, lowering your head. How could you look him in the eye? Why did you think you had the right to go back as if nothing had happened? It was clear that things weren't going to be like they were before. You weren't sure about the others, but it seemed you had taken some of Azriel with you by disappearing like that. Proud you weren't of your actions, but you didn't know how to explain to his shattered features and cheeks wet with tears that, at that moment, you believed it was the right thing to do. 

The tears in his eyes prompted your own and you sobbed unable to contain the feeling. You tried to regain your composure, because you had no right to show such sadness when you had created it all. But Azriel was faster and you didn't even manage to put your hands under your eyes when his arms wrapped around your shoulders tightly. His wings also surrounded you and, although you had hardly noticed it because of the darkness, you felt his shadows dance around your feet. 

The warmth of his body was automatically welcome. How many times had you imagined that scene in your cold bed on the Continent, all alone and devastated from time to time, with memories invading your mind. Not many times did you regret your decision, except when you thought of Azriel. 

He sobbed too, his hands tightening on your arms, as if he was afraid to let you go again. He probably was. 

“I don't understand what made you think you'd be better off away from us… away from me, but I'm sorry.” 

His words surprised you, but a flood of feelings greeted you from the other end of the bond as Azriel let go and you couldn't think too hard. Crying swirled in the back of your throat. The level of pain and sadness that your mate was handling and had hidden from you for so long was so uncontainable that you almost doubled over, leaning over Azriel's body as you felt it rushing through you. 

“I thought you needed space. I know what happened with Hybern was too much for you and I didn't want to overwhelm you. But if I had known that decision would've made you decide you'd be better off away from me…” Azriel gulped, his voice full of feeling breaking off between words. “If I had known I promise you it would've been different.” 

You couldn't believe Azriel was telling you that. And the feelings coming from his end through the bond confirmed it to you. Azriel felt guilty about your departure. From moment one, when the panic and fear dissipated, Azriel never stopped feeling that it had been his responsibility that you decided to leave. And he couldn't have been more wrong. You loved him, had loved him long before the bond appeared, but the things that happened after Hybern, that affected you, had nothing to do with him. 

“Azriel…” 

“I'm supposed to be your mate. I'm supposed to support you, help you when you're down. I don't understand how I could fail at that. I'm sorry,” his voice was muffled as he spoke with his face hidden in your neck. At no time did he let go of you and his wings kept you warm. At that moment, that was home. 

“I promise it's not your fault,” you managed to speak, your face pressed against his chest. 

“I was supposed to be with you, accompanying you, but I-” 

“Azriel, you didn't do anything wrong,” you fought against his tight grip so you could look him in the eyes and the tears running down his cheeks broke your heart once again. 

“Then why did you leave?” 

You didn't have an answer for that and Azriel realized it when your lips pursed. He sighed, as best he could, and drew you back into his arms. Maybe he didn't need an answer at that moment, just having you by his side was more than enough. 

With the others it wasn't much easier. 

Rhysand and Feyre almost wept at your feet. Cassian, on the other hand, didn't hide it and deliberately filled your shoulder with tears and saliva. Mor lifted you into the air and almost didn't let you escape when Azriel started begging her to let you go already. Everyone cried. Possibly even Feyre's sisters shed a tear or two. 

You felt calm for a while. Complete, as if you were back in that house, in that home, before Amarantha and Hybern destroyed everything for you. 

But things couldn't be perfect. After the Starfall, you began to feel that anxiety again. Azriel could only tell by your body language, because you still kept your end of the bond completely closed to him and he couldn't feel the swirl of emotions coursing through your body. You had barely had time to get used to the familiarity of the situation when all the memories came flooding back. Perhaps you had blocked them out during your absence living on the Continent, you weren't sure, but the cries of war began to haunt you from the back of your mind. 

Azriel's shadows were also restless and that was another way he could tell something was going on. He was almost glued to your side all night, watching you out of the corner of his eye when you stepped away to talk to some friends. He never let you out of his sight. You knew where this behavior was coming from, but it never occurred to you to comment on it at any time. 

So, by that time, Azriel knew what was going on and you were sure you couldn't escape him. When he approached you and extended his hand in silent invitation, with the sound of conversations and drinks in the back of your head, you almost didn't hesitate to take it. His darkness enveloped you and, within seconds, you appeared in your room at the Town House. The party was now an imperceptible murmur. 

“Would you like to rest?” Azriel spoke, after spending several seconds standing facing each other. One of his hands ran over your face barely perfunctorily, but the warm sensation ignited too many things in your body. He arranged the strands of your hair that hid your face behind your ears with delicate, almost invisible movements. 

You only moved your head in response, up and down, under his watchful gaze. 

He almost crawled away, moving to your old bed that didn't have the same sheets as when you left. In fact, when you took a quick glance around the room, it looked too neat considering the amount of time that, presumably, no one used it. 

You shrunk at the thought of Azriel coming in regularly to clean it. 

With crystallized eyes you watched him move the comforter to make way for the clean white sheets waiting to be used once again after so long. 

Azriel turned to look at you, expectant. You didn't know if he was waiting for you to move to lie down or to ask him to leave so you could change into comfortable pajamas, but you did neither. Not when the emotions in your chest moved you, when they were more uncontainable now that you shared your mate's. Not when he opened up to you in such a vulnerable way, when he let you know that which for so long he kept to himself. Not when he gave you to understand that he was always waiting for you, even though it hurt him terribly that you had decided to spend all that time alone. 

So, for some reason, whether it was feelings or rationality, you approached him. You let yourself be carried away by nostalgia, by the silent desires of your heart, and you approached your mate with long strides. 

His expression went from neutral to confused as you got closer and you only remembered seeing it turn to surprise when you cradled his face in your hands and kissed him. 

It was rough and awkward at first, because your mate was completely transfixed for a few seconds. Maybe out of anxiety you counted ten. But, whether he was born from the same place as you or not, Azriel melted under your touch and as soon as he came to his senses he was kissing you back. It was just the kiss of an unaccepted bond, of a separated couple who held too many melancholy memories in their chests to bear on their own. 

Azriel wrapped his strong arms around your waist and bent his head to kiss you more deeply. You could feel the desperation and desire hovering tentatively in his demeanor, but he held back to give you a sweet, soft kiss; a kiss that said welcome, a kiss that urged you to stay by your side and never be separated from him again, a kiss that made you wonder why you had left in the first place. 

The softness of his movements were a direct contrast to your own. You cradled his face tightly, moving your lips over his as if second nature. Then you circled his neck, pressing him against you as if somehow you could hold him that much closer. You wanted him closer. 

But Azriel broke away, breathing in and out between gasps, and looked up at you with dark, glowing eyes. 

“Do you want this?” 

His hands on your skin burned. 

“Yes,” you answered quickly and tried to move closer again to kiss him, but he broke away again. 

“And are you going to stay after this?” 

Your eyes met his worried expression, thinly disguised. Ever since he'd opened his end of the bond for you, shedding any obstacle on his part that wouldn't allow him to feel you, everything you'd seen from him had been genuine. So you knew that concern was genuine and the mere conception generated pain in your heart. 

“I will stay,” you assured him, forcing your lips into a tight smile. 

Azriel studied your face trying to convince himself of your words, for he was an expert at knowing your body language, and you had no idea what he saw that convinced him and led him to pounce on your mouth once more. 

When the lightness settled into the bond, you were thankful you had never lowered your wall. Guilt suffocated you. 

But you kissed him back and followed your heart's desires, if only for one night. 

Azriel moved his hands along every curve of your body before removing your dress. If you hadn't stopped his movements, he would've surely ripped it off. His eyes followed every part his hands had explored and then his lips were on every inch of skin. Against the soft mattress and with your wrists held by his hands, you could only sigh and moan slightly at the way he explored your body. And yes, Azriel took his time. 

Before long there wasn't a single cloth separating the two of you and your mate simply couldn't keep his hands and lips still. Not that he wanted to, either. You moved your hands along his back, trying to avoid his wings, and moving your lips down his neck when he would let you because it seemed like all he wanted to do was eat you up with kisses. 

It wasn't long before he had you panting against him, with the sound of bodies colliding being the only thing your head could process at that moment. The tingling that coursed through your body was like no other you had ever felt; the wonders Azriel was doing with your body were unparalleled. He was panting too and every time he met your eyes it seemed to you that they were darker than the last time, but he never stopped holding you at any moment, never stopped hugging you as if his whole life depended on it. Maybe it did. 

The feel of his body against yours was indescribable, the movement and rhythm almost unbearable. You had never felt pleasure even remotely close to what he was making you feel at that moment. 

“Azriel…” you moaned his name, gripping his shoulders tightly, burying your nails as if it were your only stability. 

He cursed between gasps, increasing the pace and the force with which he held your waist. 

You were never going to get to touch the sky like you did that night, that much was clear. Even though your head was split in two, you looked into his eyes as you went through the most shattering, sweeping orgasm you'd ever had, reveling in the sounds that came from his mouth as he followed you to paradise. 

You thought it was going to be hard afterwards, but you fell asleep almost instantly. 

When you opened your eyes again, your mate's arms and legs were wrapped around your body and one of his wings was covering your nakedness and keeping you warm. You were facing him, chest to chest, and just looking at his peaceful sleeping face made you want to cry. Life was here, next to him, why couldn't you accept that? 

Getting out of bed without waking him up was quite a battle. Not as much as it was to sit at the foot of the bed, watching him rest, completely unaware of what would await him when he woke up. This time you were being selfish, you knew it, it was too cruel. But in your head there was nothing but disaster, pain disguised as stability. You couldn't have a good life with Azriel now and you didn't know if you could bear to see him to tell him after you promised to stay. You shouldn't have told him that, but how could you tell him otherwise? Maybe if he woke up at that moment you would stay… maybe that's why you sat there for so long. 

But finally you left, just like last time, in the middle of the silence, with his shadows following your feet and trying to keep you company. You felt a deja-vu as you stood in front of the door, thinking about how on both occasions you were thinking about what would happen if someone showed up to stop you. 

It didn't, in either case, and you knew the next day the exact moment when Azriel realized you had done it once again. He didn't try to hide his pain, he didn't have to, you deserved to know how you had made him feel. 

On the ship, on the way to the Continent, you fell to your knees as his pain stole your breath. 

[luselih]

Another new tumblr page! Welcome welcome!

I was wondering your thoughts on some of the Bleach captains with a very petite s/o? Think like… 4’8 - 5’2 , teeny tiny lil things. Someone who “looks” frail at first glance. Is someone smaller their type? Would that factor into any pursuit? 👀 You can go into NSFW territory if you like, but I’d be happy with SFW too!

summary/ask: bleach captains with tiny/petite s/o! (height around 4’8 to 5’2 feet or 142 cm to 157 cm)

content warnings | manga spoilers!!, separated in sfw/nsfw, sfw- mostly fluff (a little bit of angst) and my personal opinions of them having tiny fem s/o, teasing, kissing and physical affection, mentions of kids and domestic life, i think that’s it for this part, nsfw - so smut of course (minors dni), fem! reader, neutral skin color reader, yapping too much about kinks ,size kink go BRRRRR, oral (receiving), different sex positions, wlw!!, overstimulation, breeding + pregnancy + kids mentioned, mentions after care + more…

a/n - #1 i am actually using tumblr last 3 years but i just recently got back into writing lol and you got my european ass to convert those feet’s and inches to centimeters, 😦 i am like 5’8-9 feet ( around 175 cm-ish tall) so please if i didn’t get a good point in this writing im sorry 😭, didn’t write for old man Yama, sorry not sorry honestly, he’s best grandpa tho <3

#2 also to say i wrote for captains in that picture (before tybw lineup) if you are interested in past/future captains please send me a request! i don’t mind doing them later on~ Toshiro is aged up (grown up/him using his complete bankai)!

SFW!

Suì-Fēng is interesting one since she is not the tallest one (as tall as 150 cm (4'11")) definitely so she is leaning more into taller or at least average sized ones. However i don’t think she minds someone around her height, they can get each other struggles and solve then like you climbing on her shoulders to get a food from a high cabinet in a kitchen or gets in a tiny space together comfortably, yeah i think she is content with it!

Rōjūrō Ōtoribashi would like to have someone dandy on his side, dressing you up in fancy clothes and accessories. Having you as his dress up doll at home~ (sorry this is dry, i don’t like his characters that much lol)

Retsu (Yachiru) Unohana isn’t that tall either being 159 cm (5'2½") tall but her terrifying aura so there is no one pick on you and definitely not her in entire Seireitei so that’s nice <3 However i see her personal preference is someone taller but she also doesn’t mind having “a puppy” following her in free time ;)

Shinji Hirako, this little shit of a man would tease you till a day you die, picking on you as you are just trying to do your job or just passing by, he would put just get your paperwork and lift it that his lanky ass could reach and stuck his tongue out at you, eventually giving in and giving it back with a playful grin and a kiss on a side of your cheek as a apology, saying he won’t tease you again and then teasing you AGAIN not even an hour later 🤦‍♀️

Byakuya Kuchiki would honestly prefer someone who is tiny imo, that has already been proven right since he was with Hisana who is most likely same size as Rukia so there is no doubt. As a head of a clan he likes the feeling that his dearest could rely on him in anything, call it whatever you want but it brings him a sense of something he lost once and he is not planning to lose it again.

Sajin Komamura is TALLEST one 288 cm (9'5½") so as i said he would be probably more found of someone taller or average sized…however! that’s doesn’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy having you around, in both of his forms he would carry you bridal style at late night hours or when Seireitei is empty so you two could have your time without having a fear of being judged or made fun of because of your appearances.

Shunsui Kyōraku, this man hoe likes every woman. He is a proud women lover. He loves any shape, size and complexion in women, he would absolutely adore having you close to him anywhere, especially in his bed late at night as he brushes your wedding rings together :)

Kensei Muguruma is on a more neutral side since i can see him wanting a tall and strong s/o he can fight and train with, but something in me is telling me that he’s a traditional man, he likes to be needed and wanted, be able to stood out in front of you proud, strong and straight to protect you.

Tōshirō Hitsugaya would finally be relieved that there is another person that is small, he’s so mf tiny that you are just maybe slightly taller than him anyway, in his true bankai form he’s around Byakuya’s height so he just might indulge himself into telling you a slight teasing comment, yeah i think he would like someone tiny to match him-

Kenpachi Zaraki would have a smaller s/o without a need for you to be smaller than an average woman in height, he’s like tall-tall, strong and intimidating compared with every race anyway. However i do have a feeling that he would like to have someone so dandy and small like Yachiru since she is a practically a part of his soul so he is found of tiny and cute things. Since his little Yachiru left ( :( ) you had become one who would sit on his shoulder as you two have to go anywhere, imo he probably wishes that one day if you two had a little kid together that it would be little girl who is his eyes is a little Yachiru who you two take care of, but this one have a little eyes just like yours and he likes that very much <3

Mayuri Kurotsuchi, this is weird one because i can see him not really having a type? He barely likes anyone, yet your tiny ass got underneath his skin and now you are here for him. Following him as you two raise Nemuri together, you 3 now looking like a real family!

Jūshirō Ukitake :( gosh i love him so much, anyway he is so nice with you, since you both are physically not very strong, it would make it easy but he fears he couldn’t protect you in time because of his fragile body :( yeah, can definitely see him with tiny s/o <3

NSFW!

Suì-Fēng - i think she loves classic scissoring as you two play w each other’s clits, can’t go well with that one and also, just sit on her face when she’s angry and don’t you dare to put only 10 percents of your body weight on her, fucking sit on it like a chair and let her spend her big mouth on a good job between your legs~

Rōjūrō Ōtoribashi - into Dacryphilia, absolutely loves when you get all pretty and dolled up especially in tiny dress, Pretzel Dip or missionary as you cry from overstimulation, looking so ruined and perfect just for him <3

Retsu (Yachiru) Unohana - man, if you haven’t died when she showed a 8 inch strap up your vagina and fucked you like she hate your guts you are good 👍 anyway, she fucking loves when you ride her or when she puts you in a mating press, absolutely filthy as she splits in your mouth you just because. ( she had a secret breeding kink but shush 🤫 don’t say you heard it from me, also i got some trans!Unohana thoughs, anyone interested in hearing it? comment down please!)

Shinji Hirako - he’s such a meanie in bed too ☹️, i mean he would literally yank you back by your ankle and continue giving you head with his pierced tongue, gosh the overstimulation is crazyyyy with him. Absolutely loves snuggling after it and his hand sliding on your side gently as it went to tease your kitty cat AGAIN-

Byakuya Kuchiki - he must be in love w you if he brings you to his bed so missionary or any position where he can see your face and kiss it is a must, he makes love with you and genuinely only fuckes you if he is jealous or mad, probably have a savior kinks/hints of it sometimes + soft kisses down your back as he praises you after 🥹

Sajin Komamura - (human version) when you two have sex he can’t help but to have a need to make you his because of wolf genetics in him so pretzel dip or prone bone are his favorite positions to make your tiny mind mindless as he might just cums inside if you especially in spring 🤭

Shunsui Kyōraku - loves cowgirl/any version of it so he doesn’t have to do too much at least at the start, see you bouncing on top of his cook as it’s tip bullies your cervix is a fever dream, pressing against your lower back or tummy just for your pussy get a death grip on his dick, isn’t fully interested in pulling out so pregnancy is inevitable sooner or later my dear 🫡

Kensei Muguruma - he is a simple man so he goes doggy or full nelson, fucks to fucks and myb slightly into bondage?? absolutely makes you squirt by fingering you, hate sex??? he absolutely demolish your poor pussy if you flirt w Shinji or Rose, he will kiss your forehead after it tho <3

Tōshirō Hitsugaya - (grown up version) doesn’t have that high of a sex drive but he adores you so he indulge into your horny cravings of him, loves spooning or Scissoring (just mlw) so he can kiss your shoulders or forehead as he for sure makes you cum couple of times at end of the night, secretly loves cookwarming but shushhh 🫢

Kenpachi Zaraki - actually fuckes you in every position possible and everywhere you can imagine, loves stand and deliver (The Bicycle position) as he is chocking you while pounding into your tight kitty, your bodies only stability is his arm that you are gripping for dear life and yes, he isn’t pulling out since he say so <3

Mayuri Kurotsuchi - doesn’t have that high of sex drive but he would absolutely make you deepthroath his length if you are bratty enough, probably some doctor/patient roleplay, people of Seireitei are scared to see his genuine smile if they see a little girl with both of your features??

Jūshirō Ukitake - my sweet man can only had cow girl/variations + missionary sex position with you so he doesn’t finish too soon, absolutely PERFECT with his fingers and has a praise kink so absolutely praise the living shit out of him as you make love underneath the moonlight all night long so he can be happy <333

[inkskinned]

"the curtains weren't blue on purpose. why should we care?"

my love! let me ask you this - did you eat breakfast today? this tiny moment in your life. just think about it. did you?

for some of you, the answer is yes and for some of you it is technically and for some of you it is does coffee count. some of you reached for cereal or gmo-free overnight oats or frozen waffles or 3-day-old pizza. sometimes we eat the same thing, every day, for weeks. i get tired of eggs randomly, only to go back to craving them desperately. i'm cuban; i take my coffee like my father showed me, very milky and sweet.

some of us ate in a hurry. some of us hate eating breakfast but if we don't we will get nauseous later. some of us took our meds first or took our meds after. some of us have a kitchen 5 feet wide and sometimes it's the biggest room in the house. some of us are confident there will be food in the pantry and some of us flinch and say well, the paycheck is coming. some of us turn on a podcast while we eat or we scroll our phones or write in our diaries.

some of us are choosing, specifically, not to eat breakfast. some of us are too busy. some of us are pretending we "just forgot," but we are ignoring the warning signs that everything feels too-heavy. some of us are so consumed with anxiety or grief that we can't eat. some of us can't stand up long enough to make our coffee. some of us have no table to sit down and eat.

i cannot tell you what an artist "meant" by their choices. but they did have to make a choice, conscious or otherwise, to give you information. to give you a little bit more light. each of these choices are little stars of data; connecting speckles for you to weave through, drawing a line.

you cannot use a mirror in a dark room. for some of us; we will not care that the curtains are blue, because that will just be a data point and not enough light to see by. for some of us, the blue curtains will be the same as our childhood bedroom. it will make us seasick. for some of us, blue will be the color of frostbite. it might look like a pixel up close; but from a distance, oh! the picture blooms.

i cannot tell you what will stick out for you. what will carry meaning. some of you will read the sentence "i didn't have breakfast today" and say "this means nothing." some of you will read that and say "oh, me neither." some of you will say "this means the character is probably a little grouchy." some of you will say "oh, i wonder if they're okay. why didn't they eat anything?" ... art is a mirror. i am holding hands with you, over space and time, and asking you to feel something with me.

i want you to read my work and find a blue pair of curtains. i want you to read my work and find things in it that i never imagined placing. i have no way of knowing what will resonate with you, that's true. and maybe i just was hungry while i wrote this, and thinking about the eggs in my fridge. but if you found meaning, that meaning is yours. it cannot be erased just because i didn't "intend" it. you created a different world by interpreting my work. it's collaborative! that's beautiful! that's stunning!

just! imagine looking at the night sky and saying - it's stupid to have a favorite constellation or a favorite star. they're just there.

because here's the thing - across centuries and cultures, we look up. we still find meaning in the stars. these beautiful, lovely scattered accidents. are you looking? they call. and we look back and say oh! of course we are!

[softlyspector]

Significant

Summary: Din has been calling you riduur for months. You finally find out what it means, and get a little more than you bargained for.

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!Reader

Word Count: ~5.1k

Warnings: pining, absolute FOOLS in love, bit of grumpy x sunshine, lil angsty, possibly incorrect lore, fluff, lots of Mando'a (translations for the Mando'a at the end)

A/N: Happy Mandalorian Eve!! This is based on a short drabble I wrote, which you can find here! It's not necessary to read it first, though of course I recommend it! The reader and Din have been traveling together for a long time, and after removing his armor in front of the reader for the first time began calling them riduur.

“Riduur.” 

It may as well be your name, the way you turn at the sound of that word. 

“Din,” you return, adjusting the child’s little sleeve which had fallen down past his hand.

“Are you ready?” He asks as he tilts his head to the side. 

You smile and turn back to Grogu. “Dad’s impatient today, isn’t he?” The child coos up at you, lifting tiny arms, ready to be picked up. “Yeah, he is.”

“I’m not impatient,” Din grumbles lowly.

You raise a brow at that and lift Grogu into your arms. “You’re always impatient, Mando.” His head jerks to the side at your assessment.

You have to bite back a laugh. In truth, he is incredibly patient. Most of the time, and especially when it came to you and Grogu. The only time you’ve seen him truly lose his temper was with the Jawas, and really, that couldn’t be helped. 

The child reaches for Din when you turn back to him, and the Mandalorian immediately holds out his arms to take him from you. You deposit the little green baby there before grabbing your shawl. “Yes, we’re ready,” you finally answer. 

The baby gets tucked into the pouch at Din’s hip, before he descends the ship’s ramp out into the desert air that awaits you. 

You roll your eyes gently. 

Not impatient, but not entirely patient either. 

You follow, wrapping the light material around your shoulders. 

It’s subtle, but he does wait for you, his pace slower than if he were alone. His right elbow ticks out a fraction, and you smile before cupping your hand there. He would never ask you to take his arm, still the offer is usually there if he can accommodate it. 

He relaxes a little when you fit your hand against his bicep. “Supplies only,” he reminds you, ever practical. 

“Supplies only,” you agree. “Unless I see something for Grogu.” 

“The child is becoming spoiled,” he complains lightly. “We won’t have enough room in the ship soon.” 

You shrug and tighten your grip on his arm. You like the way he says we. So, you return with, “That’s just because our child deserves the best.” 

Din’s spine straightens a fraction and his shoulders tilt back. 

He’s somehow both stoic and incredibly bad at hiding his emotions. You can tell, just by the slope of his shoulders or the exact angle of the helmet or the precise way he stands or walks, exactly what and how he’s feeling. 

Or, maybe you’ve just spent too much time around him. 

Maybe, you just know him too well. 

And right now, he’s swollen with pride. Though you don’t know if it's because you’ve complimented the way he takes care of the child or if it were something else. Something in the way you said our.  

It’s not long before you reach the market, and Din sighs as soon as it comes into view. It’s much larger than the ones you normally frequent, a riot of color and sound that you both know you won’t be able to resist. The town seems to be in the midst of some kind of festival. 

The smell of fried food greets you before you’ve even breached the perimeter of the town, and your mouth waters. Something better than rations awaited you there. 

Din is single minded though, and you know he’ll immediately make for the most boring of the stalls and shops. 

Supplies only, after all, is what you’d come for. 

“Mando,” you remove your hand from his arm and he immediately halts at the loss of your touch and turns to you. “I’m going to go look around.” 

He stares at you, helmet tilting down. He doesn’t like telling you no, and knows it wouldn’t matter if he did anyways. But, he worries and so it takes a moment for him to reply. “Don’t go far,” he advises. “Do you have a comlink?”

“Yes.” 

“A weapon?” 

You pretend to search your person, “Hm, what’s that again?” 

“Riduur,” he reprimands your teasing. 

That word makes the inside of your skin light up pleasantly. Riduur. If only you knew what it meant. 

You’ve started to assume it means something similar to cyare or cyar'ika. But he’d had no problem telling you what those words meant. Darling and sweetheart and beloved. He’d had no problem telling you he was calling you beloved. 

But he no longer calls you cyare or cyar'ika. Since the first time he’d called you riduur, the day he removed his armor in front of you for the first time, he’d solely begun calling you riduur. 

Even your name is becoming a rarity from his lips. 

“Udesii! Yes,” you cross your arms. “You know I took care of myself for a very long time without you and nothing ever happened. I’ll be okay.” 

Din doesn’t answer, just sighs and gives a curt nod and marches off towards a shop selling medical supplies. 

The dramatics of it all makes you giggle. You like teasing him, especially because he thinks he hides how flustered you make him well. 

Although you enjoy traveling with the Mandalorian, alone time has become a complete rarity. You were always with Din, or watching your little green menace.

You eat your way through a couple of different stalls selling food, bundling up second and third servings to keep for Din and Grogu. 

Din wouldn’t think to get anything beyond rations. Both you and the child like a little more variety, where Din treats the act of eating like a maintenance routine. 

You drift past stalls hawking trinkets and jewelry, fending off the sellers as you crunch something sweet and sour you’d picked up at the last food stall, not entirely sure what it is.  

Textiles are next, bolts of cloth you run your fingers over but mourn not being able to afford. Still, it's nice to browse, nice to feel normal. The Mandalorian isn’t hunting someone for once, and you aren’t trapped in the interior of the ship, stale recycled dry air burning your nostrils. 

A little supply stop has become a little welcome relief. It’s giving you the chance to stretch your legs, to explore. 

Still, your mind drifts back to Din, the way he calls you something he would not name to you.

You’ve searched before, in other markets, on other worlds, for the answer to your question. What does that word mean and why won’t Din tell you? 

You’d tried to convince him once or twice, with gentle words whispered in his ear, when the helmet was off and your hands were pressed against his skin, the contours of his face still a mystery to you. 

Once, you’d felt the skin of his cheeks go hot beneath your hands when you told him he used his tongue so prettily, couldn’t he use it to tell you what riduur meant? 

He’d mumbled something else in Mando’a but had not explained himself. 

You can understand most of that he says now, but because he’s the only other speaker, you have to rely on him to tell you what new words and phrases mean.

Because the Mandalorians are such an insular people, you never come across any other speakers you could ask. There are no dictionaries to Basic that you could download and peruse. 

It’s frustrating, especially since the word seems to be laden with something heavy. Din says it with reverence, with a softness that doesn't cut through the rest of his words. His voice is softer when he speaks Mando’a anyways, but that word is held with a reverence on his tongue, like it’s precious. 

The only other time you had heard him use that tone was when he once called Grogu ad’ika, which meant child. 

You’ve almost given up on knowing, resigned to that fact that you may never know and he may never tell you.

Whatever it means, you’re sure it's important. You just don’t know why.

The market is loud, boisterous and colorful. Music floats through the air, shouts and laughter. 

It’s nice, it makes you smile and you wish you’d taken the child with you because you’re sure he’d have much more fun with you than with Din picking out rolls of bandage and rations and pulse rifle cartridges if he can find someone that has some. 

You stop suddenly in your tracks when you hear a conversation in a language you immediately recognize, the familiar syllables cutting through the afternoon chatter. 

You spin and find two men in robes speaking gently to each other in Mando’a. Before you can stop yourself, your feet have already carried you to their table where they sit sipping cups of caf. 

“Su cuy'gar,” you greet. They both look surprised, glancing at each other and then back at you. “Sorry to bother you. You speak Mando’a?” 

One smiles, “Yes. Of the few outsiders that do, I think.” 

“Were you foundlings?” It’s the only way, you think, that they could have learned it. 

“Once,” the older of the two says. “This one learned it at a university.” 

You can’t help the curiosity that burns through you, “At a university? Really?” 

“Only the very barest basics. From a woman being courted by a Mandalorian,” he dismisses with a wave of his hand. “That was a long time ago. Really I learned from him.” He gestures between himself and the other man. 

You shake yourself, “I’ve just never met another aruetii that does.” Let alone two of them, you think dizzily. Two outsiders who spoke Mando’a. 

“And how did you learn?” 

“My…” you trail off. 

Your what? You aren’t sure what exactly Din is to you, or what you are to him. You never have been. He treats you like you’re more precious than beskar, yet everything between you remains undefined. 

“My traveling companion. He’s a Mandalorian.” You swallow, “I wonder if you could tell me if you know what a certain word means? It’s one I’ve been curious about.” You don’t want to tell them that you’re seeking it out because it's something he calls you. That feels too private, too close to the chest. “He said it once and I’ve been trying to figure it out ever since.” 

“Why don’t you ask him?” 

“It would wound my pride. He’s already taught me so much. He overestimates my fluency.” 

They laugh and the man who was once a foundling says, “Yes, ask us then.” 

“Riduur,” you say, carefully pronouncing it so they don’t mistake it for another word. “Riduur,” you repeat with more confidence. 

The men glance at each other, brows raised. “Well, it has several meanings,” the more grizzled of the two says, “But I suppose it's all the same in the end. Spouse would be the most overarching translation. Partner, wife, and husband all work too.” 

For a moment, you can’t breathe, you’re sure your heart has come to a leaping halt in your chest. “Truly? Riduur?” You say it again, just to make sure. They laugh and nod and you decide to have your meltdown away from their table. “Well, thank you for clearing that up. Sorry again to bother you.” 

You turn away from them, a roaring in your ears. Your heart stutters in your chest. Riduur. He’s been calling you his partner, his spouse, for months? That word so softly spoken to you - to tease you, to call for you, whispered to you in the dark, said over and over, more than your own name. It meant partner, spouse, wife, husband?

Something inside you lights up with pride. The shape of it is warm, firm in the clasp of your lungs. Riduur. It’s a living, breathing kind of word, one that takes up space inside you. One you’re proud to bear the weight of, the title of. 

Spouse, you think, doesn’t carry the same gravitas as riduur. There’s something heavier and deeper in the word that a translation couldn’t really carry over into Basic. 

You start back down the road, smiling to yourself, but only make it several paces when Din steps up beside you silently from between two stalls. “Dank farrik,” you gasp, stumbling back. “Where did you come from? You scared me.” 

He doesn’t answer you, doesn’t even tilt his head towards you. You may as well have not spoken at all. 

“Mando?” 

Still, he doesn’t answer you. 

You raise a brow but don’t say anything else as he herds you gently out of the market, desert dust swirling around your calves. Eventually, when you reach the edge of the town, he asks, “Did you find everything you need?” His voice is flat, rough. 

“Yes, I got some food for you and Grogu to try. A little feast for you tonight, since it won’t hold.”

He merely grunts and you frown. “Is something wrong?” You glance over your shoulder. “Did something happen? Are we being followed?”

You glance around his legs at the baby, still securely in the brown canvas bag, who’s peering up at both of you with anxious eyes, big ears drooping. 

“No.” He answers curtly. 

The walk back to the ship is silent, and tense, and you aren’t sure why. 

It’s only when you’re in the safety of the mouth of the ship’s ramp, with the baby in your arms, that your irritation spills over. “Are you upset with me? I didn’t wander. I stayed close and had a weapon and -,” 

Din’s hands go to his hips, helm tilting at an angle as he regards you. His voice is agitated when he finally speaks. You expect him to tell you that you wandered too far, that he commed you and you hadn’t picked it up, that you’d unknowingly wandered into danger. And you expect to have to tell him once again that it's all fine, that you are fine, that you’d traveled without him for years and things always turned out alright. 

Instead, he says, “You should not call yourself an aruetii. That is not what you are.” 

For a moment, it doesn’t register with you what he’s talking about, that he’d clearly overheard your conversation with the Mando’a speakers, likely eavesdropped on it. 

All you are, for a few seconds, is confused. “But…I am an aruetii. I am not a Mandalorian.”

Din’s shoulders go stiff at your words. “That does not make you an outsider. You…you are far from an outsider,” he growls and suddenly spins away from you, his footfalls heavy and loud when he stomps across the hull.

He climbs the ladder to the cockpit and disappears, leaving both you and the baby alone, still standing on the ramp up to the ship. “He’s angry with me,” you say in disbelief, glancing down at the child in your arms, not really understanding why. “We’ll let him cool off,” you decide, bouncing the child against your waist. “Hungry?” 

The baby coos and you smile, worry biting into you as you settle with him in the mouth of the ship. The sun is setting on the sand, the air warm, casting red shadows over the world. There’s nothing around you but sand in any direction you glance, aside from the town from which you’d come on the horizon. 

In the distance, fireworks from the town explode in the sky. You point them out to Grogu, gently feeding him bites of food that you’d gotten at the market. He makes a sound that you suppose is a giggle, big eyes focused on the colors dissipating in the sky. He holds a tiny hand up, like he’d like it to fly to him. 

You curl a hand over his. “None of that,” you say with a laugh. “Those are meant for the stars, not you.” 

He goes back to eating, already distracted. 

A weight settles over your chest.

If Din heard you call yourself aruetii then he knows that you now know what riduur means. 

Maybe that was the true source of his irritation, that you’d gone behind his back to figure out what it meant when he clearly hadn’t wanted you to know.

You rub the tip of Grogu’s ear between your fingers and sigh. 

Any warm feelings you’d had are gone. 

Riduur. 

He’s been calling you that for months. But he hadn’t wanted you to know that he was calling you his partner. For some reason it stings. 

The Mandalorian is not cruel, not the type to play with another’s feelings. But, nonetheless, it feels like he might have been. Teasing you in a way you couldn’t begin to guess at. Or, like he could pretend without actually attaching himself to you, and you’d be none the wiser. 

You shake those thoughts away, listening to the music echoing over the sands. 

When Grogu falls asleep and the sun is just disappearing behind the horizon, you secure the ramp of the ship and carry the baby up into the cockpit. 

Din sits silently in the pilot’s chair, and doesn’t look at you as you tuck the child into the floating pod. 

You fidget with his blanket, not sure what to say. 

“I’m sorry,” he breaks the silence first. “Ni ceta.” 

“Din,” you perch next to him in the co-pilot’s seat. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have gone poking around where I don’t belong. I’m sorry.” 

His head tilts toward you, the visor impenetrable. You swallow when he doesn’t answer, an inexplicable lump forming in the back of your throat. “Don’t belong?” 

“I shouldn’t have asked them what riduur meant. You didn’t want me to know.” 

Din stands and holds out a hand to you. You take it carefully and let him pull you to your feet. “That is not why I-,” he stops. “Do you really not know?” 

“Know what?” 

“I should have been…honest about the name I’ve given you.” He tilts his head and releases your hands. “I’m upset because-,” the Mandalorian pauses and seems to consider his next words for a long moment. Finally, he sighs and simply repeats, “You’re not an aruetii. By definition you can’t be.”

You stare at him for a long moment, before shaking your head. “I don’t understand.” 

He huffs, helm ticking to the side again. “Would you call Grogu an outsider?” 

“Of course not,” you answer, horrified. “No.” 

“And why is that? He’s not a Mandalorian either.” 

You don’t have to think about it, shaking your head before he’s even finished speaking. “He’s your child.” 

Din steps forward, close to you, but doesn’t say anything. “Our child,” he corrects eventually. “I am upset because you don’t seem to know you are a part of our clan. Even after knowing what I’ve been calling you. Riduur, ner riduur, for months. You still don’t know.”

Oh. Oh. 

“Osi'kyr,” you murmur softly. “How could I know that, Din?” 

He stands silent and still before you, so still you aren’t sure he’s breathing. “I thought it was clear,” he says stiffly. “I thought it was clear I was courting you.”

Something pleasantly warm settles in among your heart and lungs. “Maybe you should explain your customs to me more thoroughly,” you joke lightly. 

He doesn’t laugh, shoulders tense, hands curled in anxious fists. 

“So why not tell me what the word means?” It seems a bit past courting to you, to call someone riduur. It seems to you he’s already chosen you. 

He shifts from foot to foot, the movement somehow laden with vulnerability and worry. “If you did not…want the same - I’m not sure I could bear that.” 

You stare at him, not entirely sure what to say to that. “So, what,” you start, “you expected me to one day just realize you considered me your-,”

“I would have told you,” he interrupts quickly. “One day.” 

“Told me-,” 

“What riduur means,” he corrects. “And asked if you’d like to be that.” Din takes your hands again, “Just know that you are part of this clan, whatever your answer is.” His voice is so sincere, it breaks your heart a little. “Whether you want to be attached to me or not, you have a place in this clan. You are not an aruetii.”

You tilt your head at the same time he does, the nonverbal cues you both habit in reflecting between you. “I’m just a bit confused. Was that your idea of a proposal?” You smile so he knows you’re teasing him. 

Din gives a long suffering sigh. “Mandalorians do not propose.” 

“Oh. So what do you do then?” You lift a brow, sliding your hands to his wrists so you can work on tugging one glove off at a time. 

“We make an agreement,” he says, not trying to stop you. His voice is hoarse. “We make vows.”

You don’t look up, tucking the gloves in your belt before tracing your fingers along the veins in his wrists, the lines of his palms. “Oh. And did you make vows to me that I wasn’t aware of?” 

You’re still joking, but Din takes your words to heart. He shakes one hand loose from yours and presses it beneath your jaw, tipping your head gently back. “I did. I make vows to you everyday.” 

All the air seems to get sucked out of the ship. You gape at him, mouth opening and closing without any sound coming out as you struggle to find words. He chuckles, low and breathy beneath the helmet. You imagine he must be smiling. “Now you see how you make me feel. Like I can’t breathe.”

You finally manage to take a breath, lifting your chin away from his fingers, threads of embarrassment beating under your skin at his teasing. “You could have told me, you know.” 

“It was too large a risk. I wouldn’t risk you.”

Maybe you should hesitate in your next words. 

But you don’t. 

You’ve never been surer in something. 

“Din,” you step close to him. “I would take those vows.” 

“They…they are heavy vows. Not meant to be taken lightly. They’re bonding vows.”

He thinks you don’t get it, that you still don’t understand. “I understand what kind of vows they are. What are the vows?” You step even closer, the heat of his body seeping into yours. 

He smells like sun, like spices from the market and oil on beskar. It makes you dizzy, the usual scent of him is much cooler. Evergreen and pine. 

The cockpit is dark, the very last dregs of light on the horizon gone. The contours of the helm are shadowed, the flicker of lights from the control panels reflecting in blinking lights over the visor. 

There is no hesitation in his voice when he finally speaks. 

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” 

You mouth the words, doing your best to translate them. 

But he’s spoken too quickly, and you only understand part of it. He waits for you to ask for him to translate, giving you a moment to attempt it instead of immediately telling you. 

“I only understand part…We are one together and-,”

“We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors,” he says easily. “We are - we are all of those things already. I have kept the promise I made.” 

Your throat is dry, and you can’t think about how that’s true. “We’re raising warriors?” You attempt a joke. 

“Would you not call the child a warrior?”

“I would,” you agree. “I would also still take those vows, now knowing their meaning.”

There’s a long pause in which you can feel the Mandalorian’s stare. His gaze is intense, assessing, hot against your skin. You patiently look back, waiting. “You don’t have to.”

“You think I don’t want to.” 

He huffs, “I…don’t want you to believe you have to make vows to me. You are a part of our clan no matter what.” 

“Would you still call me riduur?”

“If you allowed it,” he takes a breath. “Yes.” 

The lip of the helm drifts up and you can sense he’s no longer looking at you, embarrassed. “Din.” His head snaps back down. “I know I am not an outsider.” You wait for him to digest those words. “I know this is my clan now. I still would like to make these vows to you.” 

He reaches up and presses his palms to either side of your jaw, the crown of the helmet pressing softly against your forehead for just a moment when he dips his head. “If you’re sure, repeat after me. We’ll say them together.” 

“Elek,” you agree. 

“Mhi solus tome,” he starts, reverence and disbelief lodged in his voice. 

In the distance, more fireworks explode in the sky. The colors reflect in the glass of the ship’s front window, sparking over the reflective helmet. “Mhi solus tome,” you say slowly, careful to pronounce each word exactly right. 

You’d never imagined yourself as someone who would get married, and certainly not like this. 

But that was before you knew Din. And all this feels to you is right. It’s both sudden and not. 

This was meant to happen. All your years with the Mandalorian lead towards this. 

You repeat the rest of the vows after him, slow and deliberate. 

When the final syllable rolls off your tongue, a muted kind of joy overcomes you. You’ve been a part of it for a long time, but you feel it now, the belonging to a clan and people. 

Din releases you and leans back. His chest rises and falls quickly. 

You close your eyes and reach for the edge of his helmet. 

You want to kiss him at the very least. 

But when your fingers skim over the release, he captures your wrists in one hand. You let go and Din reaches up with his opposite hand to take it off himself. 

You expect him to kiss you right away, but he doesn’t. You can only feel the lingering touch of his gaze. 

“Open your eyes.” 

“What? No-,” you begin to protest. 

“Yes. You can now, riduur.” The word rumbles out of him proudly, heavy in his mouth. 

You tilt your head and frown. “Are you-,” 

“This is the Way.” His voice warbles, just a little. 

“Are you sure?” You get the entire question out this time. 

Now it’s his turn to tease you. “No,” he says dryly. “I’ll change my mind after you open your eyes.” 

“Ha ha,” you deadpan. “You’re very funny.” 

“Open them.” 

You think you might be more nervous than him to see his face. You honestly never thought you would get to, and you had long ago made peace with that. It didn’t matter to you what he looked like, you knew his heart and that was more than enough. 

You’ve tried to picture him before, from tracing your fingers over his face, but the image is only half formed and without detail. It felt wrong, somehow, too, to try to picture the face of someone who deliberately hid it. 

 Slowly, you peek your eyes open at him. Whatever you had pictured is nothing compared to the man you find yourself gazing at. 

A sense of vertigo sweeps through you, because it's almost like looking at a stranger. 

You have to resist the urge, for just a moment, to tear yourself away from him. 

His hair is darker in color than you thought it would be, but just as feathery and lightly curled as you imagined. Din’s eyes are dark, a deep brown that you’d like to spend lifetimes memorizing, falling inside. You were right too, from your explorations of his face with your hands, about the shape of his nose, his mustache, the patchy beard. You’d pictured his eyes all wrong, the shape of jaw.

One thing you couldn’t have guessed at is the naked expressiveness in his eyes. 

It makes sense though, he’s spent a lifetime without the need to school his features into anything other than exactly what he was feeling. 

You wonder how many times he’s looked at you with such longing, and you never knew. 

He says your name, a question mark tagged onto the end of it, his voice wrecked and strange without the modulator muffling his voice. 

The sound of his voice rips the upside down feeling away. It’s his voice, it’s him. Not some handsome stranger. 

Your eyes flit up from where your gaze had lingered on his lips, the pink shape of his mouth against golden skin. “I was right.” 

He frowns, eyes soft and worried. It shocks you again, just how open his emotions read in his eyes. “About what?” 

“I knew you were pretty. You are pretty,” you tease, pressing yourself against him, the hard contours of him biting into you. You fist your hands into the fabric at his sides. “Mesh’la.” 

Din frowns at you. “I told you that means beautiful, didn’t I?” His voice is playful and doesn’t match his expression. 

You nod and don’t answer, reaching up to cup your hand against his cheek. Din’s arm settles easily around your waist, dragging you closer, the weight of his helm in his hand heavy against your hip. Normally, you’d let him close the distance between you but you can’t quite manage to let him now, gazing instead at the planes of his face. “Mesh’la,” you tell him. “Ner riduur.” 

“That’s my line.” 

“Not anymore,” you tease. “Husband.”

You tip your chin into his and wait for him to meet you there. 

He gives a slight smile before leaning into you. “Not husband. Riduur.” 

“Right,” you agree, because really, it isn’t quite the same. It can’t be. “Ner riduur.” 

The kiss lingers long on your lips. He’s savoring you, a warm passion that doesn’t quite extend into heat. Din’s tongue meets yours briefly, the groan it tugs from his mouth sending flashes of lightning all the way down to your toes. 

The fireworks outside are no rival for the feelings clawing up the back of your throat. 

You want to tell him you love him, but you think he already knows. 

He breaks away to set his helmet down. When he turns back to you, his hands roam over you, free in their movement, tugging at the band of your trousers. 

You can’t stop staring at him, suddenly overwhelmed, drinking in the sight of him, the naked expression of him, everything he’s thinking spread over his face like a well loved language. 

All you’d wanted was to know the name he gifted you, instead - this. 

You map your hand over his face, tracing the divot between his brows, the curve of one sharp cheekbone. “I never thought I would see your face,” you whisper. 

Those soft, vulnerable eyes meet yours, arm wrapping around you again, as his bare forehead presses to yours, “And I always knew you would.” 

Thank you for reading! Please let me know your thoughts!

If you want more of Din and his riduur, Significant-verse drabbles can be found here!

Translations:

Riduur - spouse, partner, wife, husband

Ner riduur - my spouse, partner, wife, husband

Cyare - beloved

Cyar'ika - darling, sweetheart

Udesii - Relax, take it easy

Ad’ika - little one, baby

Su cuy'gar - Hello

Aruetii - outsider, foreigner, traitor

Ni ceta - an apology, rare

Osi'kyr - exclamation of surprise

Elek - yes

Mesh’la - beautiful

[wintersoldiersoul]

Aftercare

A/N: Can't stop thinking about fluffy aftercare with Bucky so here's something short I just wrote

Warnings: tiny bit of smut, aftercare, tooth rotting fluff

“One more for me, baby girl, come on, you can do it,” Bucky encouraged as he pounded into you relentlessly. He had your legs up by your head, cock plunging in and out of your cunt, sending you barreling into your sixth orgasm of the night. You were absolutely exhausted but someone still not satiated yet. You still needed him.

“Oh fuck!” You yelled out, feeling another orgasm creeping up. “I’m gonna cum! Gonna cum so hard! Fuckk!” Your words were practically just screams as you came, squirting and soaking the sheets below you.

Bucky’s thrusts grew sloppy as his breathing got heavy and he shot his load into you. “Ohh my god,” he repeated as he rode out his high.

When you were both finished, he carefully removed himself from inside of you and lowered your legs slowly. You were breathless, laying limp with your eyes closed, utterly spent after the amount of intense orgasms you had. “You with me, baby girl?” Bucky asked, voice dripping with concern and love. 

“Mhm,” you nodded lazily, eyes still closed.

“I’ll be right back. Gonna get a towel to clean you up, okay?” You felt his weight leave the bed and heard the water running in the bathroom. “Gonna be really gentle, okay sweetheart? I just gotta get you all clean.” You shuttered as you felt the towel, still incredibly sensitive. He was so light with his touch, taking his time to make sure that you were all clean. He went back to the bathroom to dispose of the towel and quickly came back to sit beside you on the bed. “Can you drink this for me, baby?” He said, handing you your water bottle from the night table. 

You sat up slowly, grabbing the bottle and taking greedy sips to rehydrate yourself. As much as you loved sex with Bucky, you loved aftercare almost more. You were both so emotional, so full of love for each other, even if he had treated you like his own personal toy just minutes prior. Your wellbeing was always his priority, during and after.

“How you feeling, angel?” He asked, returning the water bottle to the nightstand. “Can you give me words?”

“Feel good,” you said, sleepily. “Tired.” You moved your body so your head was buried in his chest. “Jus’ wanna cuddle with you.”

He smiled, loving the feeling of you in his arms. He loved taking care of you and making you feel safe and comfortable. He rubbed his hand up and down your back in the way he knew you loved. As he held you, he began to feel tears leaking onto his chest. “Hey,” he said, cupping your face in his hands. “What’s wrong? Was I too rough? Did I hurt you?” His eyes were wide with concern.

You shook your head. “No, no, I’m okay. I don’t even know why I’m crying really. Just love you a lot.” 

He kissed your forehead and wiped your tears. “Hey, that’s okay, baby.” He smiled softly. “Lemme give you all the care you need, ‘kay? Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing. I know that was a lot for you.”

You nodded before placing your head in the crook of his neck, reveling in the feeling of him running his fingers through your hair. “Was I good?” you asked quietly.

“Perfect. Absolutely perfect. You always are, angel.” He kissed the top of your head as he held you, letting you use his body for whatever comfort you needed. “Do you wanna take a shower, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know if I can walk,” you admitted. 

“Lemme run a bath, okay? Then we can get nice and cozy and go to sleep.” 

Once the bath was full, Bucky picked you up in his strong arms and carried you, placing you down in the warm water before getting in himself. He grabbed your shampoo, running the soap through your hair before taking a bucket and gently washing it out. He repeated the same method with your conditioner, whispering sweet nothings and peppering your face with kisses the whole time. “I love you so much, baby. My perfect angel girl.”

When you were done, he helped you get changed into pajamas and got you settled on the bed. “You need anything else?” he asked.

“Just you,” you mumbled, holding out your hands. 

He smiled warmly as he crawled into bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you as you both drifted off into a deep sleep.   

[vaspider]

Last year I wrote about what happened at Pride when a couple of kids didn't understand why us older folx were so bitter about Reagan.

This year, I have something a little softer.

Someone who looked a little older than me came up to the booth wearing a pink t-shirt proclaiming him one of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, San Francisco chapter. As I was ringing him up, I asked if he'd been involved for a while.

"Yes," he said, "for a bit," in that way us middle-aged people do when we're sort of wincing and feeling old.

"Okay, well," I said, sitting at my register in my queer booth full of queer clothes and patches and pins, topless in public for the first time. (I had pasties on for my own comfort bc I was working, but I live in the city of the Naked Bike Ride, and I took full advantage). My baby brother and both of my partners ran around behind me, my brother wearing a loose tank top that makes his scars visible.

"I need to tell you that you all helped keep me alive."

He blinked at me as I continued, "I was a kid in high school in the early 90s. I lived in the middle of nowhere in Pennsylvania, and what you all were doing was so loud and so out there that even I heard about your work. It was one of the things that kept me alive. So thank you, and please thank the rest of the Sisters."

I heard about them through people in my parents' church complaining about them, and then I sought more information through the beginning of the internet, through newspapers, through anything I could find. I found the cover of Newsweek that one of the Sisters was on. I read about their "exorcism" of fundamentalist preachers whose books sat on the shelf in my parents' basement and probably still do. I saw how loud and colorful and unapologetically queer they were.

The knowledge that someone was out there, so full of defiant joy, refusing the shame that people kept trying to put on them? Oh, that kept me alive. I saw them, and I knew I could make it through. I wrapped my hands around that knowledge, and I held on so tight.

It took me a long time - a long, long time - to unwind most of it for myself and get to the point where my fat butch ass was sitting bare-chested in the July breeze, looking up at him as he held out his arms and said "you're actually giving me chills." I answered, "I mean every word. You helped keep me alive. So thank you."

I never know what to say when people come up to me in public and tell me that I helped them or changed their life in some way. I appreciate it, and I genuinely love the people who apologized for "fanpersoning" at me last weekend, I just never know what to say. I'm incredibly grateful that the Sister I spoke to was incredibly gracious, saying "usually we give blessings, but I feel like you blessed me." Another member of the party let me pet their tiny dog, who was not very interested in me, and that's okay. It was an overwhelming day. Then, they moved on.

Me? I'm still sitting with the fact that I looked last weekend into the faces of people who didn't know they were holding my head above water, and that I got to tell them the work they do matters. It's a rare thing to get to tell someone, "You saved me," and I'm treasuring it.

Last weekend, I wore my new battle vest with nothing underneath it, unless it was too hot, and then I just sat in my chair, chatting and ringing ppl out with my skin free to the air. I decided last year that top surgery isn't for me, but that also I'm going to love this body unapologetically, and it's no less a transmasculine body because the soft new dark hair on my belly isn't accompanied by pink scars along my ribs.

I didn't get here on my own. I got here because someone else cut through the undergrowth ahead of me so I could take another step forward. Here I am, decades later, still taking step after step, one at a time, and trying to lay paving stones behind me.

Last weekend was another step along that way, another step through unwinding the fear and shame and sadness that my parents and their church built into me. Another step out of hating myself for hiding parts of myself for so long, for acting out in other ways to distract people from my queerness, for feeling so much guilt when other people tell me I'm brave, because I know how much of myself I hid for how long because I was a coward, because I was afraid.

Another step into expiating stigmatic guilt.

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: The collection of letters that Bradley received from the fourth grade class provides him with entertainment while deployed. He takes the time to answer their questions and send a package back to the United States via air mail. But he has your email address. He also has a bit of a crush and some questions himself.

Warnings: Fluff, language

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

A few days later, when Bradley was done with his training protocols for the day, he returned to his bunk with a different mission in mind. While he unzipped his flight suit, he eyed the box which was taking up most of his nightstand, and a smile found its way to his lips. He managed to find a notebook that nobody wanted along with a thick, padded envelope, and he was going to take the time to respond to the fourth graders who wrote to him. 

He'd spent hours poring over the letters, laughing at some of the questions from the kids and frequently picking up that one photo. He couldn't stop going back for more. For another look at you. Just one more look. Okay, this really was the last one. He had to toss it across the small room toward his duffel so he could focus on something other than your smile and the fact that he might have a tiny crush on a fourth grade teacher who knew absolutely nothing about him. Yet.

The note from Jayden was on the top, and Bradley opened it up and started to jot down a response.

Jayden,

It was so nice to hear from you and the rest of your class. To answer your pertinent questions, I am currently stationed on the USS Theodore Roosevelt. The most disgusting food in the mess hall is easily the cabbage rolls (which taste nothing like cabbage... or rolls). The best food in the mess hall is surprisingly the meatloaf. And yes, I would love to see a photo of your Cocker Spaniel. Please send one next time. I hope you're studying and doing your best in school.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The next note he decided to tackle was the one from Violet who had the tiniest handwriting he'd ever seen. The page had at least fifteen questions written out, but he decided to answer just a few for her. He had to squint as he skimmed through them again.

Violet,

You seem very inquisitive. That's a great quality to have, especially if you want to be a pilot someday. No, I did not attend the Naval Academy. I went to the University of Virginia. Yes, the Navy is way better than the Air Force. Yes, I can hold my breath underwater for three minutes. Yes, they actually made me do it. No, I don't think I could make it as a Navy SEAL. Yes, I have been staying hydrated and getting enough sun, thanks so much for asking. Keep studying hard, because you have a lot of school ahead of you before officer training.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

Okay, so this was actually a lot of fun. Up next was a response to the note from Oliver, which made Bradley laugh every time he looked at it. 

Oliver,

Thank you so much for drawing the different Naval aircrafts for me. I hate to break it to you, but I actually do not fly the F-35 Lightning II. Yes, I know they look 'sickeningly cool'. Yes, I know it would be like 'slam dunking off the back of a dragon'. I guess I never knew I was jealous of those pilots until right now.... But I fly the equally cool if not quite as sickening looking F/A-18 Super Hornet. And yes, I would be more than happy to draw my own version of one for you. See below.

Lt. Bradley Bradshaw

The ten minutes he spent replicating his own aircraft to the best of his ability for Oliver churned out a pretty damn good result. He fished his phone out of the nightstand and took a picture to email to Nat when he had time, because she would find this whole thing amusing. Then he reached for the letters from Harrison, Nia and Jackie. He wrote his responses, and after a bit, he had a decent sized stack of letters all ready to go back to the fourth graders.

After a few more days, he worked his way through the entire class, and each kid would soon have a handwritten response on the way. He just needed to figure out what he wanted to say to you. The pretty teacher from the class photo that he now kept tucked in with his personal items. He worked on that one last, writing your full name at the top of the page and wishing you didn't go by the very non-specific Ms. which gave him zero clue as to whether or not you were married.

The package you sent was the nicest piece of deployment mail I have ever received. Thank you. I'm lucky it ended up in my hands. I'm impressed by how much all of your students have learned about aviation this year. I just hope I did them justice in regards to the questions they had for me.

I also hope you don't mind that I replied to each kid individually. They had some very amusing stories and questions, and I wanted to acknowledge all of them. But there was one question in particular that I was asked so many times, I thought I'd answer it here instead. My call sign is kind of a silly one, so it's okay if you all laugh. I go by Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, and my helmet is mostly red, yellow and black.

Your kids seem like a fun bunch, but I bet they keep you on your toes. Feel free to let them know they can write back to me again, but please include my name on the package this time. I don't know that I'd be lucky enough to have it fall into my hands again by chance. I'll just be here somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean for a few more months, ready to answer any questions you throw at me. Hope to hear back from you soon.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The following day, he packed everything up and dropped it off with the rest of the ship's outgoing mail. There was a rumor that a helicopter would be coming to pick it up in the next day or two, and he wanted to make sure it got back to California and those fourth graders as soon as possible. On his way back to his bunk, Bradley stopped by the lounge to see if there was an iPad free, hoping to send a quick email or two. He was in luck. He also happened to have your email address memorized.

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

You yawned at your desk and checked the time on your computer. Within the next ten minutes, your classroom would go from silent solitude to mass chaos, so you took a minute to clear out your email inbox. You had a few messages from some parents and a reminder about Spirit Week from the superintendent. And a random piece of junk mail that must have slipped through the spam filters. You didn't know anyone with a US Navy email address, and you didn't know anyone named Bradley Bradshaw.

As you closed your laptop, you gasped and tried to pry it back open again as quickly as you could. The Navy! The package you sent a few weeks ago! Maybe it was someone writing back to your class! Of course it could just be someone saying they were sorry that they didn't have time to engage with your students, but you figured even that was better than nothing. 

"Come on," you whispered, entering your credentials again before your inbox reappeared on your screen. The email was just a few lines long, but it was addressed to you by name. You were smiling immediately as you read it.

I just wanted to let you know that I got the mail you sent to a deployed Naval Aviator. There's a package on its way to your school for your class. It should arrive in about a week or two. Your fourth graders provided me with several hours of entertainment, and I hope they find my answers to their many (and amusing) questions useful. Thanks for the laughs, and thanks for the photos, too. Can't tell you how much I've been enjoying them. Hope to hear from all of you again.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

You squealed and pumped your fists in the air. Someone actually got the box! And he actually responded! The other, older teachers thought you were just wasting your time when you deviated from the lesson plans a bit. Literally all of them said there was no way anyone would write back, even though you took the time to go through the proper channels at Top Gun on North Island. But now you could rub it in their faces, all thanks to Bradley Bradshaw who sounded like he'd had as much fun with this whole thing as your class had.

Then your day really started as Violet and Oliver burst into your classroom, calling out your name with excitement in their voices. The rest of your kids followed behind them, already asking about the plans for the day and what kind of adventure you'd be taking them on in each subject. 

When you clapped your hands twice and said, "Good morning," they all clapped and replied with their own greeting, and then they sat quietly with their gazes fixed on you. "Guess who I just got an email from!"

"The president!" 

"My grandma!"

"My Cocker Spaniel!"

"Oliver's grandma!"

You just shook your head and tried not to laugh as you said, "None of the above. But do you remember when we wrote and packed up those letters for a real aviator in the military to read?" Most of the kids nodded, so you added, "Well, he emailed us! And he sent us some mail that should arrive in about a week!"

And telling them that was a mistake. Because you didn't know a moment of peace after that. Every morning, you had kids rushing into the room to see if the promised piece of mail arrived yet. Every day you had to disappoint them, but you were finding yourself a little disappointed, too. You wanted to know what this Bradley Bradshaw guy sent back. 

You'd responded to his initial email letting him know you and the kids in your class were delighted to hear from him and that you would let him know when the mail he sent arrived at your school. He didn't respond, but you figured he was busy. Too busy to constantly muck about with your class while he was thousands of miles away on a deployment. 

And that was what left you standing at your desk with your mouth hanging open in awe when the padded envelope did finally arrive one morning. Because when you carefully cut it open, you found not just one letter to the class but individual handwritten notes, one for each child.

"Wow," you whispered, pulling the note with your name written on the top out of the stack. This man seemed humble and sweet, and his letter made you laugh in more than one spot as you read through it. Then you read it again. He sounded apologetic about responding to each individual kid, but you felt like your insides were melting. Who would do that? Who would take the time to give individual attention to a bunch of nine and ten year olds besides you? And you were technically getting paid to do it. 

Bradley Bradshaw seemed willing to continue to engage with your kids, and you weren't going to stop him. Because starting that morning, he became something of a legend to your class. A celebrity. A real lieutenant in the Navy replied to all of their silly questions, and their love of aviation just grew from there. You figured you were going to have to keep your lesson plans going a bit longer while their faces lit up as you walked around the room and handed them each their notes. You had taken the time to skim them beforehand, often laughing at his sense of humor which seemed to jump off the pages.

"Can we write back to him?" Jayden asked as everyone read their notes from Lieutenant Bradshaw. "I have more questions."

You smiled and nodded. "Yes, you may write back to him." Then you postponed your geology lesson until the next day and let them spend the next forty minutes writing some followup letters. You took some pictures of them diligently toiling away at their desks, excitement on their faces. Then you bit your lip and sat down at your own desk.

As you started to construct an email letting him know the envelope had arrived, your thoughts drifted to what he might be like. Humble and sweet, for sure. But he also made it a point to tell you that the box from your class was the best piece of mail he'd ever received while deployed. Maybe he was a little bit lonely. Maybe he was single. Maybe he was stationed on the west coast. Your thoughts started to get ahead of you, and it was hard to reel them in when you imagined him excited to see another email from you. Smiling when he was handed another box from your class during mail call.

Dear Lt Bradley Bradshaw,

We got the envelope from you today, and my kids are absolutely thrilled! I'm not sure if you know how hard it can be to wrangle eighteen fourth graders all at one time, but they are currently sitting quietly and working on new letters for you to read. Once again, please don't feel obligated to continue correspondence if you're too busy. I'm sure you have other people you could be writing to who want your attention as well. I just wanted you to know they are overjoyed that a Naval officer took the time to answer their questions about aviation.

I have attached some photos as proof that they are sitting still. Thanks again for making their day.

You signed your name at the bottom the way you always would from your work email account, and then you attached the photos. After a brief debate about adding the selfie you took with Violet where most of your face was visible, you decided to just go for it. Adding it to the mix wouldn't hurt anything. It wasn't like this semi mystery man would be up all night thinking about you. 

But you found that you were still thinking about him when you went home to your silent house and made dinner that evening. Maybe he was a little bit lonely, but maybe you were, too.

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

It was amazing how infrequently Bradley found himself thinking about Vanessa. He was busier now with his duties picking up a bit more as his deployment wore on, but even when he was tired and in his bunk at night, his thoughts seldom settled on her like he was afraid they might. He didn't miss her or her half-hearted emails, and he wasn't craving the connection of reunion sex with her. 

Instead, he was thinking about what a group of fourth graders were learning about this week and what their cute teacher was up to. It had been a few days since you emailed him, letting him know that his package was delivered to your school. You made it sound like the kids were excited that he sent it in the first place, and when he really thought about it, he supposed some officers would have just eaten the snacks and tossed the notes in the trash.

He didn't reply to the email yet, still thrown off a bit by the pictures you attached. Your classroom was vibrant, and the kids were absorbed as they worked on more notes for him to read whenever they happened to be delivered to the carrier. But the photo with you in it held his attention longer than it should have. The fact that you were working at a school that was just a handful of miles from his damn house made him feel warm.

But what would he do about it? What could he do about it? Nothing. He didn't want you to think he was creepy. He still knew essentially nothing else about you. The only thing he could do was keep it friendly if not professional. Unless of course you did something to push the boundaries of conversation into a more personal realm. God, if you did....he didn't think he would be able to handle it. 

The next day, when he was heading out on deck to talk to the mechanics who were doing regular maintenance on the aircrafts, he took his phone. "Hey, you mind if I take a few photos of some of the engine parts? I want to send them to a class of fourth graders who will think it's cool."

"Go ahead, Lieutenant," the head mechanic replied. Then he smiled and asked, "You dating a teacher?"

Well. Wouldn't that be something? Bradley would never run out of curious pen pals. He would always have some fourth graders to take interesting photos for and to send notes to. He'd always have a classroom to visit as soon as he got home from a deployment.

He couldn't help but picture you as the teacher.

"Nothing like that," he replied, his voice a little gravelly. "Just writing to some kids who are learning about aviation."

After dinner, when he had a chance to use an iPad in the lounge, he did his best to put together a response to your email that would at least hint at the curiosity he felt. 

If all it takes is mail from three thousand miles away to get your class to sit quietly, then I should probably be writing to you every day. But I'm sure you're a great teacher. That's a given considering how much your students learned and shared with me. And I can assure you that I'm more than happy to take the time to write to your class. And you. Please don't think I feel obligated, because I do not. I want to.

I have attached a few pictures of some F/A-18 engine components as well as some of my cockpit controls. Each photo is labeled, but please let me know if you have any questions.

It was nice hearing from you.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw 

As soon as he hit send, he wanted to kick himself. Should he have included a photo of his face like you had twice now? Or did he already sound too desperate to hear from you and your class again?

"Shit," he muttered, looking around the lounge as if there was going to be someone here proficient in the art of getting to know a fourth grade teacher without sounding stupid. But it was too late now. All he could do was wait for the next mail call or hope you decided to write back to his ramblings by the next time he checked his email. 

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

You were going to have to scrape your jaw off the floor. You had no idea what this man's face even looked like, but his hands were... something else. And his thighs... well, they were pretty great, too. It must have been too long since you got laid, because you were sitting at your desk in your classroom staring at the set of photos in your inbox, currently unable to look away from his right hand. It was wrapped around the throttle of his aircraft. It was elegant with attractive veins and rough calluses. You were sure that you were supposed to be focusing on the cockpit controls, but all you could see was that hand and his thick, muscular thighs below.

The next photo was no better for you. He was holding up his helmet with his call sign Rooster emblazoned across the front, and you were able to see his left ring finger. There was no wedding band. There was no evidence of an outline where a wedding band would belong. There was just his big, strong hand.

You whimpered softly while your students worked on their math tests. You couldn't help it as you took one last look before logging out of your email account. And now you needed to know if his face matched the very attractive image you had in your mind. 

When Jayden called your name, you rocketed to your feet like you'd been caught red handed. "Yes?" you squeaked, your voice sounding higher pitched than usual.

"I'm done with my test. May I have the hall pass and use the restroom?"

You handed it to him as the rest of your class finished working through the math problems. A few minutes later, when you collected the papers from them, Violet asked, "When is Lieutenant Bradshaw going to write back to us?"

It had only been a few days since you mailed him the second box of notes and some more snacks, but it made you happy that they were all so invested in learning more from him. 

"It will probably be a few weeks before we get anything in the mail. However... he did email me some pictures of engine and cockpit parts from the aircraft carrier for me to share with you guys." When you looked around the room, the kids were on the edges of their seats, excited expressions on their faces. With a laugh you added, "I was going to wait until tomorrow and use the projector to show them all to you, but if you're very well behaved for the rest of the afternoon, maybe I could pull them up on my computer for you to see them today."

Not two hours later, you were just as excited as the kids were to look at the photos... again. As they crowded around your desk, you opened up the first one of the cockpit to a barrage of questions. 

"Is that really his jet?"

"Is that the throttle?"

"What do all the buttons do?"

"Was this right before he flew it?"

Once again you were distracted, but you managed to click over to the next photo, and the kids gasped in delight. 

"His helmet is so cool!"

"It says Rooster!"

"That's his call sign!"

"Red is my favorite color!"

You just smiled softly and laughed. "Should we go ahead and start working on another list of questions for him?" you asked as you slowly scrolled through the rest of the pictures. "He said we can write back to him as much as we want to." When everyone cheered, you handed Oliver a marker and pointed to the board at the front of the classroom. "Let's start making a list."

You listened to all of your students call out questions for Bradley while Oliver wrote them down. Then Violet asked, "Can he send us a picture of his whole jet? From the outside of it?"

You cleared your throat and added, "Maybe he could get someone else to take the picture so he could stand in front of it. For size comparison."

Violet nodded, but you knew you were a fraud. Sure, it would be great for the kids to understand just how massive the F/A-18s were compared to an actual person, but you were the one who wanted to see all of Bradley. You were itching for it now. 

Later that night, you drank most of a bottle of wine and did something you promised yourself you'd never do. You logged into your work email account after nine o'clock. You skipped over the handful of unread emails from parents and clicked on the icon to compose a new message. With your liquid courage goading you on, you typed up a response to Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw and hit send before you could think twice.

Thank you for the photos. They were very enlightening. We especially liked the ones where you were showing off your cockpit. Or I did, anyway. The kids liked all of them and started on another list of questions for you. Good luck getting rid of us now. 

We were wondering if you could have someone take a picture of you standing in front of your jet. For size comparison purposes. And also because my students would like to know what you look like. Hearing from you makes our day even better.

You couldn't believe how forward you were being with this man who you'd never even met in person, but you fell asleep thinking about his hands and what they might be capable of.

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

This Bradley makes me swoon. I've never wanted to be a fourth grade teacher so badly in my life. There is something that's starting to blossom between them even though they haven't even met in person. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

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[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

Of Lions and Mice

Leona Kingscholar x Reader

Reader is intended to be female

Masterlist

Leona was annoyed.

Once again, his golden goody-two-shoes older brother decided to shirk his responsibility of being a father and dump the overexcited, disgustingly bright-eyed crown prince on him for the day. And not only that, it had to be today of all days - a rare day where you were free from picking up Crowleys’ slack, where the loudmouthed, nattering extras that always followed you were otherwise preoccupied (and bribed to bugger off with a bag full of tuna), where he was certain he’ll spend the day in bed with you right next to him. 

But no. Just like with everything else in his miserable existence, his dreams were crushed and he had to spend the day playing caretaker to his nephew instead of wrapped up with you. What’s worse was that, you’d decided to carry the pint-sized load off of his back and gave your undivided attention to the cub when it should have been rightfully his. How he hated that selfless nature of yours, that sweet, caring, gentle nature that would make you look at anyone that wasn’t him with that loving gaze, that would make you brush your fingers through Cheka’s golden orange curls the same way you would Grim’s fur or the stray cats you’d find around campus or any other being instead of his mane. 

He hated just how loving you were, how your eyes could see the beauty in everything.

How, now that it’s late at night, and he’s closed his eyes and pretended to sleep in his attempt to actually get some shut eye and so that the little hairball would quit bothering him but Cheka just continues yapping.

Even in the darkness under his eyelids, he could feel you cast a worried look his way from the spot where his bed sags a little.

“Hey Cheka,” your sweet, dulcet voice (which is currently being used to please his nephew and not sooth him to sleep with the sweet nothings it usually does) pipes up, “how about I tell you a bedtime story from my world?”

“A bedtime story?!” Wow, even with his eyes closed he could see the stars coming out of his nephew's eyes, “yes please!”

Once the little cub has settled into bed, he asks you, “do you know any stories from your world with lions in them?

“Any ones with lions? Hmm, well, I suppose I could tell you about Narnia but I think you might be a bit too young for that and - wait,” you punctuated your words with a snap of your fingers, “I know a short one. There was this man called Aesop who wrote these short stories called fables.”

“What’s a fable?” Cheka asked, his words covered in that innocently curious lilt that all six year olds seemed to have during every occasion Leona wished they wouldn’t - and that was all of them.

You, however, seemed to have much more patience than him, “A story with a moral in them. Like, always be honest, or share, or work together, that sort of thing. I had a book of them when I was younger and I really enjoyed reading them.”

Figures. Of course, the shining beacon of sickeningly polite goodness grew up with such stories. He would’ve teased you for that but he had a child who he’s still trying to convince he was asleep.

“That sounds so cool, Aunty Y/N! Will you tell me more?”

“Of course, I will,” he can hear your smile, “but I’ll tell you them later, okay. Now, it’s time for you to rest.” 

“Okay, Aunty Y/N.”

“Alright so,” you clear your throat, “there was once a lion that lay asleep in his den. A shy little mouse came upon him and in her fright she ran away, only whilst doing so she accidentally ran over his head, waking him up.”

“Oh no,” Cheka gasped, “that lion is going to be so angry if he wakes up.”

Oh, so the little hairball does have a brain after all. 

“You’re right. Furious that he had been woken up, the big lion slammed a paw down on the tiny mouse and grabbed her by the tail. Holding her up, he growled at her,” here you made your voice noticeably deeper, trying to imitate a gruff growl, ““How dare you wake me up! I am the king of beasts and anyone who interrupts my slumber deserves to die! I shall kill you and eat you!””

It took everything within Leona to not burst into laughter at your adorable imitation of a ‘big scary lion’. It’s a voice you’ve used before whenever you tease him, playfully repeating the words his old self would have said to you, and it’s one that he’s rather fond of. 

He loves and respects you, Herbivore, and he’s the first to attest to your formidability and capability - even though you have the annoying tendency to not only blur the line between bravery and reckless stupidity but also play skipping rope with it - but intimidating you are not. 

“This scared the terrified mouse even more. Shaking with fear, she begged for him to let her go,” you make your voice higher at this part, squeaking in a way that oddly suited you, in Leona’s not so humble opinion, ““please, your majesty, I beg of you, please don’t eat me. It was only a mistake and if you let me go I’ll be sure to repay you. If you spare my life one day, I might even save yours.””

“The lion looked at the tiny creature and laughed, amused at how such a small mouse could ever be of use to an animal as powerful as him, “You? Save me? How absurd. You’ve made me laugh and put me in a good mood so I shall be generous and let you go.”

“Thank you, your majesty, thank you,” the mouse squeaked as she was put back on the ground, before scurrying away as fast as fast as her little legs could carry her.”

“Yay, so the mouse is free.” Cheka giggled.

“He is,” you said, “but there’s still more left. A few days later, the lion was prowling around when out of nowhere he was caught in a hunter’s net. Try as he might, he couldn’t get out of it. He tossed and turned, roaring angrily as he struggled to escape.”

“Wait, so now the lion’s in trouble. How’s he going to get out?” Cheka asked in worry. 

“You’ll see. Hearing his cries, the mouse followed the sound, recognising it from the lion he met earlier.

“I have to help him,” she squeaked as she scampered towards him.”

Upon seeing the lion in the net, she said, “hold still your majesty, I’ll get you out!”

And she quickly started to nibble on the ropes with her sharp little teeth, biting until all they broke apart. It wasn’t long until the lion was free.”

“So the mouse saved him. Was it because the lion helped him earlier?”

“It certainly was Cheka. “Thank you, little mouse,” the lion said, “I laughed at you and didn’t think you could ever help me but you saved my life.”

“It was my turn to help you.” The mouse replied, ”never forget that even a creature as small as a mouse can help a lion.”

And that’s the end,” you say.

“Thank you, Auntie Y/N, I really enjoyed that. Do you think the lion and mouse became friends after that?”

“You are very welcome, Cheka. I think they did. They did help each other, after all. Now I think it’s time to go to sleep.”

And once you were sure that the crown prince was asleep, you made your way next to your boyfriend, running your fingers through chestnut locks, “did you enjoy that little story, Leona.”

He opens his eyes to see your endeared smile. Rolling over so that he could wrap his arms around your waist he muses, “it seems awfully familiar don’t you think? A scared little herbivore wakes up a sleeping lion and ends up saving him later.”

“I’ll have you know, Your Highness, that I was never scared of you. Even when you were a rude old brute who threatened to knock out one of my teeth. And I’m certainly not little.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” 

He pulls, letting you flop down on his bed beside him so that he can spoon you.

“Sweet dreams, little mouse,” he kissed your forehead, “I hope you know that I don’t ever intend on letting you go. Not after you helped in ways you could never even imagine.”

And so the lion fell asleep, holding the prey who rescued him from the confinement of his past safely in his arms.

[agi-ppangx]

grape soda (lee minho x gn!reader)

it’d been almost two hours since minho left your apartment to supposedly take a walk after you two had an argument. but he hadn’t come back yet.

“minho, stop—” you cried when you noticed him put on his coat and take the keys from the table by the entrance.

“i’m just gonna go for a walk, okay?” minho interrupted you a little bit too harshly. he noticed how your eyes got even more teary at his tone and he sighed, his face softening. “i’ll be back soon, i just need to clear my mind. if we continue this now i’m pretty sure i’ll say something i’ll regret later. i won’t be out for too long, hm? we’ll talk when i come back.” with that he left you, standing with wet cheeks in the middle of your apartment. your eyes wandered nervously around the place and it was only then when you noticed minho forgot his phone from the kitchen counter.

you were sitting in the living room, bouncing your leg nervously as you once again checked the time. it was getting late and your anxiety only grew bigger. you were wondering if minho was okay and if he was even coming back. he got pretty mad at you, but you weren’t even surprised, knowing that you’d hurt him. you felt like you deserved being yelled at and even if it made you sick in your stomach you wouldn’t have been surprised if minho decided to leave you.

around midnight you heard the keys rustling and the door opening. you rushed to greet minho at the entrance, not caring about the argument anymore. your behaviour caught him off guard and he froze when your arms wrapped around his waist, tears spilling from your eyes. you were mumbling something, but his coat muffled every sound you let out.

“yn, what’s- what’s going on?” minho asked softly, bringing his hand to your hair, patting it a few times. you couldn’t stop crying, but you took a step back and sniffed a few times before attempting to speak again.

“i-i thought you left me,” you admitted, wiping your face. minho chuckled at that, amusement painted on his face. he was genuinely taken-aback - why would you even think about something like that?

minho shook his head and only then did you notice that he was holding a bag in his hand. he placed it gently on the floor and took your hand in his.

“i would never leave you, dummy,” he started, bringing his other hand to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “i really needed to cool down so it took me a while, but i’m here now, okay?” you sniffed, nodding weakly. you felt so bad about the whole situation.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered. “are we going to talk now?” you then asked anxiously. you weren’t ready to have that conversation yet, but you knew it was inevitable. minho shook his head again.

“no need for that, it’s okay.” you raised your eyebrows. was he going to let it be? after everything you did?

“but—”

“i’m not mad anymore, yn. i thought that through and it’s okay, i know you didn’t mean it. also-” he let go of your hand to pick up the bag from the floor. “-i got us some instant ramen. you must be starving, love.” you let out a loud sob, hiding your face in the palm of your hands. minho closed the gap between you two and placed a few tiny kisses on your temple.

“don’t worry about it anymore,” he mumbled with a soft smile.

“you’re too good to me, you know?” you chuckled through tears, wiping your cheeks. minho laughed at your words, putting his hand in the bag and taking out a purple can.

“oh, i know. who else would buy you your favourite grape soda after an argument, hm?”

a/n: not proofread at all, wrote it in like 30 minutes i guess...? anyway, please enjoy and remember that feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated🫶🏽

taglist !

@lynlyndoll @iyenbread @flooo71 @skz-streamer @inniescandy-01 @hannahhbahng @prettymiye0n @ggsez31 @laylasbunbunny @like-a-diamondinthesky @axel-skz @kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy @l3visbby

[ashwhowrites]

Well, I'm feeling a bit petty lately. So say, Y/N and Eddie is in a relationship but another girl is hitting on him and rubbing it in Y/N's face and she has told Eddie "please, tell this girl off, because it's not fun what she's doing." But Eddie, that has only seen the sweet side of the other girl tells her 'there's nothing you have to worry about', maybe he likes the attention even though he's faithful to Y/N.

So one night when Y/N and Eddie is going to have a date night this girls calls is needs him for whatever reason and Eddie just says "be right back, babe."

And that's where Y/N draw the line. She usually stays at Eddie's and Wayne's but now she packs up her stuff and goes home and when Eddie comes back and gets frantic, she doesn't answer her phone and when he comes to her house to visit she just says: Why aren't you with "other girls name"? She's the one you treat as a girlfriend after all?" and close the door in his face.

And Eddie realizes he has fucked upp for real this time - for real real and maybe even gets a talking to by Wayne.

But it ends happily please?

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻 I tried my best to make it a happy ending and still keeping Eddie at blame.

Who's your girlfriend?

Y/N and Eddie's relationship never had arguments or disagreements. They worked perfectly together. But lately, a new girl shook things up.

Her name was Maddie, and Y/N hated her. She was a waitress at the hideout. Eddie and Y/N spent most of their time at the hideout, cuddled in their booth. It was something Y/N looked forward to every day, but now it sucked.

Maddie knew Eddie was taken, and she didn't care. She spent most of her shifts flirting with Eddie and it pained Y/N that he never told her to back off.

"Anything else?" Maddie asked, her attention on Eddie.

"We are all set, thank you." Eddie smiled, taking the check from Maddie's hand. She smiled back and walked off.

"Help me with the math?" Eddie asked as he handed Y/N the receipt. Y/N went to calculate a tip when she noticed tiny scribbles in the corner.

"What a bitch!" Y/N snarled, slamming the receipt on the table. "She wrote her fucking phone number."

"So? Ignore it." Eddie shrugged, digging cash out of his wallet.

"Ignore it? Eddie! She flirts with you all the time, and I try to ignore it. But this is straight disrespect. And I think you need to say something." Y/N explained.

"She doesn't mean it, you know waitresses do the most for a tip."

"I think she wants more than just the tip, Eddie," Y/N growled, and she slid out of the booth. Eddie followed after.

"Don't be like that. You know I've only got eyes for you." Eddie said, throwing his arm over her shoulder. But she shrugged him off and crossed her arms. She marched out of the bar, and Eddie tried to keep up.

"You're right, I'm sorry. Next time I'll say something." Eddie promised, grabbing her hand to make her stop.

Y/N sighed and kicked at the rocks in the parking lot.

"You will?" She asked, her sad eyes looking up at him.

"Of course." He said. Y/N let it go, holding his hand as they walked to his van and went home.

~

Y/N took deep breaths as they walked into the hideout. She was excited to finally see Eddie put Maddie in her place.

They sat down in their booth, no surprise Maddie was ready to serve them immediately. Her eyes stayed on Eddie as he ordered their drinks.

"You got it, handsome." Maddie flirted and then walked off.

Y/N kicked Eddie under the table, giving him a look. Her eyes hinted at Maddie.

"She's a nice girl, baby. Just being friendly." Eddie reassured her, moving closer to wrap his arm around her shoulder.

Y/N rolled her eyes but dropped it. The night was young and there would be plenty of time for Eddie to shut Maddie up. Y/N cuddled into his shoulder. She held the hand that hovered over her shoulder and pecked his jaw.

Maybe them being so cuddled up would help Maddie get the hint.

It didn't

Towards the end of their date, Maddie and Eddie got in a conversation about rock bands. Eddie removed his arm to talk with his hands. Y/N felt like the third wheel as she slurped down her drink.

Y/N was ready to leave. She couldn't sit here and watch them talk like she didn't exist.

"Excuse us, but we are leaving," Y/N said, standing up as she got out of the booth. She didn't care what Eddie had to say, she yanked him out of his spot.

"Oh, um bye!" Maddie rushed out as Y/N dragged Eddie out of the door.

"Well, that was rude." Eddie scoffed

"Rude? What was rude was you two acting like I wasn't even there! What was rude is that you told me you'd tell her off and you sat there like an idiot!" Y/N huffed, letting go of his hand as they made it to the van.

"She wasn't doing anything! We were having a friendly conversation." Eddie defended, starting the van.

"Friendly? Yeah right. I didn't know friendly conversations meant she'd be rubbing your arm and giggling at every fucking word. Trust me, babe. You are not that funny." Y/N said she knew she was being bitchy but she was beyond pissed.

"Why don't we talk about this when you calm down?" Eddie offered, peeling out of the parking lot.

But she never calmed down. She slammed the trailer door behind her as she marched into Eddie's room.

"Baby, come on let's talk" Eddie tried

"Nope. You didn't want to talk in the car so oh well. I am going to bed." She said, stripping out of her clothes and changing into pajamas she always left at Eddie's.

Eddie sighed but got ready for bed as well. He bit his lip as they lay in silence. She refused to cuddle him or let him touch her. She was on her side with her back towards him.

"Look I'm sorry." He said, his hand touched her shoulder but she slapped it away.

"Sorry, my ass. Go to bed." She snapped.

A few minutes passed, and both lay in silence.

Eddie groaned as his phone rang, he slipped out of bed to answer. Y/N turned on the lamp and sat up confused. It was very late for someone to be calling and she was worried that Dustin or someone needed help.

"Yeah, I'll be right there," Eddie said and he hung up.

"What's going on?" Y/N asked, moving to her knees.

"Maddie needs a ride home. I'll be right back." Eddie said he slipped on his pants and his jacket.

"Excuse me?"

"I'll be right back! Just go to sleep, love." Eddie said, leaning down and kissing her forehead.

"Edward Munson, do not go pick up that girl," Y/N growled, her tone was deep and angry. Eddie felt a little nervous as she glared.

"She called me! I can't just leave her at work." Eddie tried to defend.

"Yeah, she can stay at work until her next shift. Or call someone else. I'm sure she's got family and friends." Y/N shrugged. Then it clicked, she had Eddie's number. Y/N's face hardened and Eddie stepped back.

Her feet landed on the floor as her finger stabbed into Eddie's chest. He walked backward until his body hit his wall.

"She has your number, which means you called her! Which means you kept that receipt with her number on it." Y/N seethed. She couldn't believe her boyfriend kept Maddie's number.

"Yes, I did. But it was just as friends!" Eddie tried to defend himself.

"You knew I didn't like that she did that. You knew that I thought it was disrespectful towards our relationship."

"But I don't see it like that! I truly don't see an issue."

"Don't see the issue? I thought I made it clear. She's into you and you are leading her on because you enjoy the attention." Y/N said, her anger turning into a bit of sadness. Her boyfriend was enjoying the attention of someone else.

"I really need to go get her. And we can talk when I get back?" Eddie asked, Y/N stepped back and let him move away from the wall.

She was done talking and she was done listening. She nodded but didn't say a word. She kept her eyes on the floor as Eddie grabbed his keys and left.

Y/N refused to cry, she sniffled and took a deep breath. As she heard the van's engine start, she started to pack. She grabbed the nearest bag she could find and threw everything she had in it. If Maddie wanted Eddie so damn bad, she could have him. It wasn't like Eddie didn't already pick her a thousand times over Y/N anyway.

"You okay, kid?" Y/N looked up from her frantic packing. Wayne stood at Eddie's door with a sad smile.

"Uh yeah. I'm sorry if we woke you up." Y/N apologized, and she zipped up the bag.

"I'm sorry he's an idiot. He's going to realize soon, it takes Eddie a bit to see the real picture." Wayne sighed.

"Yeah well I'm not going to wait for him to see it," Y/N said, she had the bag on her shoulder and walked past Wayne.

"Let me drive you home." Wayne offered, as he grabbed his keys.

~

Eddie yawned as he finally got back home. It was nearly two am and he was exhausted. He was mentally exhausted by what was behind the door. He didn't want to have to argue with Y/N all over again.

Eddie walked into the trailer, shocked to see Wayne sitting on the couch.

"Why are you awake?" Eddie asked

"Why are you just getting home?" Wayne asked

"A friend needed a ride home." Eddie shrugged, as he took off his shoes and jacket. "But I'll talk to you in the morning. I don't want to keep Y/N waiting."

"She left," Wayne said, a disappointed tone in his voice.

"What? Why?" Eddie asked, he looked into his bedroom and his heart stopped. Half of his room was missing, all her stuff was nowhere to be seen.

"Go find out. And for once, listen to her." Wayne said as he walked back into his own room.

Eddie threw back on his shoes and jacket and headed back out.

He wasn't sure how many laws he broke as he pulled into Y/N's driveway. He climbed up the tree that led him straight to her window. He tapped on the glass, the light was on so he knew she was still awake.

Y/N yanked open her curtains to see Eddie. She rolled her eyes but opened the window.

"What are you doing here?" She sighed, crossed her arms, and blocked him from coming inside.

"You left, of course, I'm going to come get you," Eddie said, she ignored his puppy eyes and kept her ground.

"Right. After you were done with Maddie, right?" Y/N said

"Look Y-" but Y/N cut him off.

"No, Edward. We've talked about it, I've said how I've felt and you don't care. A friendship with Maddie is too important to you. So how about you leave me the fuck alone and go back to the girl you actually treat like a girlfriend. We're done." Y/N snapped, she slammed down her window and closed the curtains. This time she allowed herself to cry, she turned off her light so he couldn't see her shadow. She heard him knocking but she refused. She ignored his cries and pleas, she crawled into bed and allowed herself to cry to sleep.

~~~

Eddie paced in the living room all night. He waited for Wayne to wake up because he had no idea what to do. He knew he brushed how Y/N felt, but he thought it was jealousy. He didn't know she'd break up with him over it. He kicked himself for not truly listening and fixing the issue at the start.

Wayne walked out and Eddie ambushed him before he even made it to the hallway.

"She broke up with me. What do I do?" Eddie rushed out, the panic in his voice made him sound shaky.

"I'm sorry, Eddie. But I can't tell you what to do." Wayne said as he walked into the kitchen.

"Wayne, please. I can't let this girl go. If I knew how to fix it, I would have done it last night. I stayed up thinking and thinking but I was scared. What if I fucked up too bad? What if she never wants to be with me again?" Eddie panicked. His hands were in his hair as he yanked in frustration.

"Eddie, that girl told you the problem a thousand times. Listen to what she said, and you'll know what to do. But don't wait, do it now. A girl like that deserves way more than you offered her. I didn't raise you to hurt girls." Wayne lectured as he poured his coffee.

~

Eddie knew what he needed to do. He raced to Y/N's. Luckily it was a normal time so he could use the front door. He knocked and waited.

Y/N opened the door and went to slam it but Eddie caught it with his foot.

"Please, just give me a second to apologize."

Y/N sighed and opened the door.

"I'm sorry for pushing your feelings aside. I'm sorry for being a dick, and a bad boyfriend. I should have said something to Maddie the first time you felt uncomfortable. I'm sorry for everything and for making you upset. I know I don't deserve it, but I'm going to hate myself forever if I don't try to save this relationship. If I woke up one morning, alone in my thirties, knowing I could have had you right next to me and I didn't try for it. So please," he dropped to his knees and grabbed her hand. "Let me show you I heard you."

Y/N was confused about what it all meant, but she knew she loved Eddie and if there was a way to fix it, she wanted to do it.

"Okay, fine. What's your plan?" Y/N asked. Eddie jumped to his feet and grabbed her hand. He closed her front door and dragged her to his car.

"What are you doing?" She asked, but Eddie just had a big smile on his face.

"Something I should have done a long time ago." He said as he began to drive.

Y/N sat silently as she took in her surroundings. It clicked that they were heading to the hideout.

"Isn't it a little early to drink?" Y/N teased as Eddie pulled up into the parking lot.

"Yes, but that's not why we are here," Eddie said, he got out of the van and opened her door. He grabbed her hand and walked up to the front door, but didn't go in.

"Are we not going in?" Y/N asked

"We are, just need to do something first," Eddie said.

Y/N rolled her eyes as she saw Maddie walk up. She wasn't dressed in uniform so Y/N assumed she wasn't working.

"You wanted to see me?" Maddie asked, nervously looking at Eddie.

Y/N looked confused between both of them.

"Maddie, I am completely in love with Y/N. I know it was wrong of me to feed into your flirting. Even if I only wanted to be friends, I realize now it makes my girl uncomfortable and that's what matters the most. I also know now that your actions towards me were disrespectful to my relationship and whatever you thought was happening, is not happening. I've deleted your number, so I'd like it if you didn't call me ever again and never talked to me again." Eddie said, Y/N tried to hold back her laugh as steam came out of Maddie's ears.

Maddie didn't say anything, she stomped off and mumbled curse words under her breath.

"I know it doesn't fix everything. But I hope it's a start." Eddie said.

"It's definitely a start." Y/N smiled, holding Eddie's hand as they walked into the hideout. She gasped as she saw the whole small bar lit up in fairy lights, their booth had candles and a display of breakfast foods.

"Oh wow."

"Would you join me for a breakfast date?" Eddie asked his hand gestures towards the table.

"Oh absolutely," Y/N smiled as she walked towards their booth.

It was a start in the right direction. Maddie was out of their hair, and fixing their relationship could have all their attention.

Tags!

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[reminiscingtonight]

The Thing About Families (Arsenal Style)

Alessia Russo & Russo!reader (Lia Wälti x Russo!reader)

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: A Russo sisters + Lia ft. Kyra story that wrote itself after that picture came out

And The Things You'd Do (Part Two) // That's How You Know It's Home (Part Three)

[WOSO Masterlist]

“I need your help.”

Growing up as the oldest kid in the family meant you’ve heard this line quite a lot. For your brothers it usually meant helping them sneak out of the house or cover for them as they did god knows what, but for Alessia it usually meant one of two things: organize her laundry or organize her life.

Given that you’ve done all the washing and have neatly stacked her already folded clothes on the edge of her bed, you have a sinking suspicion that this ask has more to do with the latter.

“Rat. What’s up?”

Alessia frowns at the nickname, an insult perched at the end of her tongue. But she seems to think better of it, batting her eyelashes in hopes of seeming more innocent as she latches onto your arm. 

You’re not amused, instantly trying, but failing, to shake her off. “Less, let go!”

“I need your help,” she whines again, digging her heels into the ground. 

You try wrapping your arm around her neck to pull her into a headlock, but the height difference between the two of you means Alessia has no trouble heaving you over her shoulder and onto the couch behind her. You let out a disgruntled yelp, trying to wrestle her for dominance. Alessia simply sits on top of you, hands locking your arms across your own body. 

“Alessia Russo I swear to god, get off!”

“Your baby sister is trying to ask for a favor! Will you just,” she huffs, pinching your side when you try to buck her off of you, “calm down! Just hear me out!”

“I’m kicking you out before Lia gets home. Off!”

How your mom talked you into housing your sister when she moved to Arsenal, you will never know. Lia jumped at the opportunity to help her out, but since she isn’t home right now…

Alessia cringes a bit at your girlfriend’s name and you instantly stop moving. Your eyes narrow dangerously. “What?”

Family is important to you. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for Alessia, but there’s also nothing you wouldn’t do for Lia too. You haven’t ever had to make a choice between the two of them, but if you’re going to have to you’re not sure if sisterly love will be enough against how much you love Lia.

“If you don’t tell me what your problem is I will actually kick you out. Talk.”

It only takes two seconds under your glare for Alessia to break. “Kyra won’t stop bugging me!” 

For a second you’re taken back to your childhood, a tiny Alessia sat in your lap, saying the same exact thing about Gio. You had given her a comforting pat on the head and then socked Gio as hard as you could in the arm. But now that you’re in your thirties, you don’t think punching Kyra would be taken as well, by your girlfriend or the other Aussies on the team.

“That sounds like a you problem.” 

And Kyra’s hilarious, you’ll give her that. The younger girl had instantly taken a liking to your sister since the day she arrived. And by liking of course you mean a liking to bothering Alessia. 

But as long as the young Australian keeps bothering Alessia and not you, you don’t really see a problem with her behavior.

Call it karma for everything Alessia has put you through growing up.

“And I love Lia, you know that.”

Your lips pinch into a thin line. “I don’t think I’m liking where this is going. If you’re about to be rude about my girlfriend--”

“Lia needs to stop babying Kyra! Sometimes I just need some peace and quiet at the Colney, and I can’t do that if Kyra keeps bothering me and Lia keeps letting her get away with it!”

Right. That.

It’s not like you haven’t missed it. 

Any time Kyra’s running wild your girlfriend can be found nearby, always quick to soothe any ruffled feathers from the Australian’s adventures. At first Steph was set on Kyra duties, but when it became clear that anyone outside of her chosen Australian/Swedish family were ill-equipped to handle her, Lia was quick to step in. 

You’re not sure what it was that drew Kyra to your girlfriend but Kyra lived for the praise and affection Lia gave her and Lia lived for the adoration from Kyra.

So yeah, it’s cute the way Lia has taken the young girl under her wing. If anything it just makes you want to ask her to marry you and start a family faster.

“Don’t be jealous, rat. If you want Lia to baby you again you can just say so.”

Alessia’s too busy scoffing and objecting to your claim that she’s not expecting it when you dump her off of you and right onto the ground.

---

It only takes a week.

It starts when Lia cancels date night. Kyra’s feeling a bit homesick so Lia invites her for a movie marathon at your place. Of course you’re a little bummed, but it’s not something you can’t reschedule so you just let it go. You find Lia and Kyra teasing each other throughout the night cute enough to replace any hard feelings. 

The next strike comes when you have Lia pinned under you in bed, the two of you making use of an Alessia-less house for the night. Alessia had gone out with Vic for the night, telling you with a wink that she would be catching a ride from the Dutch to practice the next day. Your clothes had gone flying off the second you got home from dinner, but before you could really go down to business you hear the unmistakable sound of your doorbell going off. You pause, lips stilling upon Lia’s neck. 

“Maybe if we don’t do anything they’ll go away.”

The doorbell ringing again has you sighing as Lia gently pushes at your shoulders. “Babe, off,” Lia laughs. She gives you a kiss on her way out but she does in fact leave you in bed to see who’s come to visit so late at night.

You’re off daydreaming about what you’re going to get up to when Lia returns when you hear the unmistakable sound of an Australian accent coming from the living room. 

The pillow isn’t enough to muffle your cry of frustration into it. 

You’re already sighing and throwing on a hoodie when Lia pops her head in, apologetic look on her face.

“Do you want to pop the popcorn or me?”

The last straw occurs when you wake up in the middle of the night a couple days later. You’re not really sure what’s woken you up, but you do find yourself at the edge of the bed. There’s barely a sliver of blanket covering you, but Lia’s warm body wrapped around your back gives you all the heat you need.

Humming, you shift as softly as you can so to not jostle your girlfriend. The original plan is to gently shift the two of you back towards the center of the bed, but when you reach over Lia to make the transition easier, your hand hits the undeniable form of a third body. 

You freeze. 

Hazily opening an eye, you raise your head to look at the other side of the bed. Next to you is Lia, like you expected. What you don’t expect is the snoring Australian sprawled out over Lia's half of the bed.

You have to bite back your groan.

You let out a disgruntled grunt when you settle back onto the tiny piece of the mattress left to you. 

You’re not sure how long you lay there awake and thinking through the best way to go about ridding yourself of the new girl in your bed when a sleepy hand comes up to pat at your cheek. 

“Why are you brooding?”

Although you’re a bit grumpy, the sound of Lia still half asleep brings a smile to your face. 

But when you hear a snort, gurgle, and then snore from the other side of your girlfriend, the look is quick to fall off your face.

“What is she doing here?”

Lia frowns, sleepily rubbing at her eyes. She reads your pout easily. “Kyra was tired.”

“So you let her in our bed? Baby, we have a couch. A very comfy couch.”

Lia raises an eyebrow at you.

After spending the next night sleeping on said couch you come to two conclusions. First, the couch is not as comfortable as you initially thought. Second, Alessia was right.

You corner your sister at training the next day. She looks surprised but follows you when you pull her into a storage closet.

“Okay, how do you want to do it? Should we kidnap and ship her back to Australia?”

Alessia grins, not even needing you to say anything further. “Nah, we can keep her local. I think it’s time the other Aussies get custody, don’t ya think?”

[stairain]

Desk Pet.

Despite knowing the importance of work, Spencer still can't help but distract you in the worst way possible.

Warnings: Sub Spencer, meanish reader, slight pet play (use of nickname puppy), grinding, leg humping, cumming in pants, begging. // Sorry for disappearing! It will happen again!

WC: 3.0K

You were sitting at your desk in your bedroom, intently staring at your computer screen as you tried to file through your work. Your eyebrows furrowed in concentration and you were so deep in thought you didn’t even hear your boyfriend Spencer walk into the room. 

He had been working late, so it was just past midnight. His footsteps were silent as he walked past you towards the bed. But he saw you were engrossed in your work and was going to sneak past you without disturbing you, but a thought popped into his mind and he suddenly couldn’t resist.

Biting your lip, you look down at the papers on the table and start to write something down, oblivious to the way Spencer was sneakily padding over to you with a clear intention in mind. You didn't know what he had planned, but you knew you couldn't afford any distractions right now.

He came up behind you and stood at your left-hand side. Your attention was still focused on the papers in front of you, much to his dismay. He leaned in slowly and kissed the right side of your neck, moving any pieces of hair that got in his way. He then nuzzled his face against your neck, his breathing becoming quick and shallow.

A shudder ran up your spine and your heart almost stopped before you processed what was happening as he snapped you out of your work-induced trance. After the initial shock, your eyebrows knit further in annoyance. You had a lot of things to get done, and he sure wasn't helping, and you knew he knew that.

"Not now, Spence. I'm really really busy, do you think you can give me a few hours?"

You try to sound as sweet as possible, because you knew for a fact that he could not wait a few more hours. He was impatient and needy at the worst times, now being one of them. You tried to ignore the warm feeling of his lips pressing tiny kisses against your neck.

“How about now? I just want a little taste..”

His lust blown eyes sparkled with mischief as he looked at you, with a slight playful smile. His voice sounded low and husky and his eyes burned with arousal. His words had a slight edge of desperation to them and he seemed to have no intention of giving up any time soon.

Breaking your gaze from your work you look at him just long enough that those wide eyes of his almost win you over, but you're quick to get back to writing as you shake your head. The desperation was evident in his voice, but you really had so much to do. You just couldn't afford to stop and give him what he wanted.

"Baby, I told you. I'm really busy, be a good boy and be patient for me, please?"

Spencer had looked like a hurt puppy when you turned away from him, he couldn’t believe you didn’t give in after his first time asking. His face twisted into a sad frown as you wrote on your stupid papers. He sighed again and tried harder to get your attention.

“Just a few minutes, please? Do I really have to wait until later?”

He asked pitifully. The puppy dog eyes and little frown that looked so adorable on his face were working overtime to get you to give in and fuck him already.

With a soft chuckle you look at him and shake your head once more. It was always hard to say no to him, and you rarely did, which is why he always took it so hard.

It was always so endearing how desperate he got when he didn't get what he wanted. You really did want to give him what he wanted, but he was far too spoiled already. He had to learn his lesson sooner or later.

"Spence, baby. Go lay down or read a book until I'm finished, I promise after I'm finished we can do whatever you want, okay? You'll be okay waiting for a bit."

He was determined to make you give in by any means necessary. The slacks he neglected to change out of were growing tighter by the second, heavy cock straining against the already uncomfortable material. He was so hard and needy and he didn’t know what he’d do if you kept this up. 

Spencer leaned in closer to you, and his lips pressed against the side of your neck again. This time he sucked and swirled his wet tongue against it, creating a tingling feeling that spread throughout your body. He looked down at you with a pleading look, trying to make you give into his pleading and begging sooner rather than later.

“Please.. I-I can’t wait an entire night to be with you. I just can’t..” He whined, looking at you pitifully. His tone was almost like he was throwing a tantrum, and at this point he might as well have been.

"Well you're going to have to, if I don't get this finished I'm fucked."

You didn't even spare him the glance, already knowing he was giving you those pouty lips and sad puppy eyes. Maybe it was because you really did need to focus, or because you knew if you looked at him for longer than a second you wouldn't be able to.

His bottom lip curled downwards into a pout and he let out a sigh, before slowly leaning back away from you. He took a step back but his eyes remained glued on you. 

“Okay. Fine. I’ll be a good boy..” He whined again, and pouted.

The dejected tone in his voice sent a pang through your heart, and you couldn't help the way you bit your lip in thought at how to proceed this. You knew you had to work, but you also knew how much he loved being around you. Sighing, you speak your compromise.

"Come here."

You called out in a firm voice, waiting for his presence behind you again.

He seemed a little surprised by your rather blunt word choice, but he obeyed nonetheless and came back over to stand behind you. Plus your tone of voice when you called for him turned him on in an instant. You still had your attention on your work and he knew that, but he liked the small progress he was making. 

“What can I do for you, ma’am?”

He was still in a slightly dejected tone, but he had a glimmer of hope. He craved to hear and feel the passion and desire he knew you had inside of you, and he needed it now. 

"Get on the ground."

You offhandedly said, as if it were nothing more than a passing thought. With your rolling office chair, you pushed yourself back a bit so he had more space. Space to sit underneath your desk like a good pet while you finish your work. He was so desperate for your attention, he'd take anything you offered.

The moment he heard those words his heart dropped into his stomach. He was so desperate to be with you, that even being right at your feet was more than he could ever ask for. He loved when you told him what to do and when to do something. He absolutely adored being ordered around.

Spencer was quick to obey you as he fell to his knees and crawled under the desk, waiting for more orders. His eyes burned with lust as he stared up at you. 

Your eyes flickered down at him once he was settled between your legs, and you widened them the littlest bit more, just to tease him. Without another word, you began typing on your computer, seemingly ignoring him after telling him to kneel at your feet like a dog.

To put it simply, he was desperate to be noticed. He wanted your attention so bad he’d do anything for it. He wanted you to acknowledge him, give him the littlest glance and he’d be happy.

Yet, he still knew better than to bother you right now while you were working after already burning that bridge. So he just looked up at you as you typed away on your computer and waited for a sign from you. His eyes locked with yours that were glued to the screen and he looked at you with a gaze full of adoration and worship. 

But you hadn't even been granted five minutes of peace and quiet before you felt him scooting closer towards you. He seemed to take a liking to your right leg, gravitating towards it and not so subtly opening his own legs to slot your calf between them. You stop typing for a moment, but you don't give the satisfaction of sight.

"Spencer."

Voice low and scolding, you warn him with just the call of his name. You thought you had given him more than enough attention, especially after he had been such a brat and refused to leave you alone. He's lucky you even let him sit under your desk, and now he was taking advantage of it.

His eyes darted forward when he heard your low, scolding voice, as if he had been caught. He looked at you with eyes that were positively spilling faux innocence, like he was expecting to be let off the hook.

“Yes, Ma’am?”

Spencer asked quietly, tilting his head to one side. His expression looked hopeful, like he was expecting more. A part of him was hoping to be rewarded for his behavior. He knew that wasn’t the case, though. You never rewarded misbehavior.

"Watch it."

You warned him once again. The tone in your voice was nothing short of intimidating and serious, and yet it did nothing but turn him on even more. You could feel his arousal throbbing against your ankle as he cozied himself up against your leg. You tried to ignore the weight and heat of his shaft pressing on you, but you were just a woman. 

He rested his chin on your knee, eyes wide and sparkling. His eyebrows furrowed and he looked a little confused as he tried to figure out what he had done wrong so as to deserve your warning. You told him to get on the ground, you never told him he couldn’t use your leg to get himself off. He had no idea he was taking advantage of your kindness, and yet had no problem doing it.

“Watch what?”

The brunet asked innocently. He kept his eyes glued to yours, waiting to see what you were going to do, as if challenging you. The longer he looked up at you, the hornier he got. Taking a deep inhale through your nose and rolling your eyes, you snap at him. 

"I've told you countless times, I need to get my work done. I can't give you what you want."

You reminded him once again, eyes darting everywhere on the desk and yet not one glance underneath it. You had hardly registered the way his hips were slowly rolling down against your leg and how his plush pink lips parted with a soft moan. He was grinding against you like a bitch in heat, barely listening to a word you said at this point. 

He let out a whimper as he pushed the pulsing head of his dick against you without a care in the world. Those wide, adorable brown eyes of his looked so desperate as he continued to look up and try his best as to not be caught by you. You couldn't see it, but you felt his arms hook around your leg for more leverage to hump against you pathetically. 

“I know, I know. I just–can’t wait. It has to be you..” 

Your breath hitched as your breath got caught in your throat. Something about those words he just whimpered out, they were winning you over. You purse your lips with a sigh and look down at the pathetic puppy at your feet. The movements of his hips and crotch had slowed down, but you could tell he was just itching to start again. The way his eyebrows were slightly upturned in the temptation of bliss, and the soft puffs of a whimper leaving his mouth. It was too much, and you were worn weak.

"You have five minutes, if you don't get off by then, you leave this room. Understood?"

Spencer smiled widely when he heard what you agreed to, and he crawled forward more to hug your leg closer to his chest. Pressing his forehead against your knee, he made small, soft whimpering noises as he got to work. 

“Yes, Ma’am. I understand. Five minutes.” 

He recited back to you as coherently as he could, already lost in the feeling of your unmoving ankle colliding so deliciously with his leaking cock. He was staining the insides of his boxers with sticky warm precum, and the wetness made his head spin and his breath shallow.

Turning your attention back to the work at hand and not the bitch at your feet, you shake your head and try your hardest to ignore the way he was practically humping your leg at this point. He was trying his hardest to keep quiet, but it obviously wasn't working. If Spencer was anything, it was vocal when he felt his best. You could feel every stutter of his hips and the way the rest of his body shook when he pressed his arousal harder against the bone of your calf. You'd be lying if you told yourself this wasn't turning you on beyond belief, ignoring him as he used you for his own pleasure.

He pushed himself against your leg some more, but he didn’t push it too far for now. You knew he was about to burst, but he tried so hard to hold it in to enjoy it. He was breathing more heavily as instinctively kissed your knee. His sounds of need became louder with every hump.

“Oh, fuck.” 

He shuddered out, his voice still low and sultry and nothing short of needy. His whole body quivered with the amount of effort he was using to hold on. Not only would it be humiliating to have finished not even thirty seconds after you granted him permission to get himself off, but it would be an utter waste of time. 

As the seconds ticked by and approached his time limit, the push and pull of his lower body was almost maddening. He was rubbing himself so hard against you through his pants, and you secretly hoped he'd be able to finish in five minutes, considering how badly you wanted to see him make a mess without even having to touch him, let alone pay attention to him.

Spencer looked up at you, and he still had four minutes to go before his time was up. He was already out of control, and it was getting harder and harder to hold himself back.

He kept rubbing himself on you and making those low, desperate sounds. He was going to explode soon, and although unlikely, he hoped that you would stop working when those five minutes were up. He hoped you would finally pay attention to him. He was so needy and desperate. He wanted you now. 

While he was having the time of his life grinding against you, it just wasn’t what he really needed. He needed to be buried inside of you, pushing as deep as he possibly can as your cunt sucked him in even further. He needed to have you gushing around him as his elbows gave out on him as he tried his hardest to keep fucking you through his third orgasm. 

But he wasn’t going to get that, not tonight. 

Deciding to try and be nicer to your poor boy, you move one hand away from your work and card it through his soft curls. Running your nails against his scalp, back and forth, as if to imitate the cant of his hips. It almost served as a silent praise, 'what a good job you're doing' you could have said, but you had a demeanor to keep up and a report to write up.

He couldn’t help the pathetic groan that was punched out of him at your touch. You always knew where he loved being touched the most, and you knew it never felt as good when he did it himself. 

“Oh, fuck–please.”

The words left his mouth in a hiss as he pushed himself more against you. His jaw shook and his sounds grew in intensity as his body froze and he squeezed your leg impossibly tighter. It wasn't a moment later that you felt his entire body go rigid against you and his breath caught in his throat in what sounded like a choked sob.

The tightness of Spencer’s pants did nothing to mask his shame as he exploded into the poor stained fabric. His eyes instantly found your face and almost forced you to look right back at him as he finished. His mouth was quivering as pathetic whimpers and moans punched their way out of his throat. Thick spurts of warm cum made their way into his boxers. He had positively soaked the front of his pants, with a minute left to spare.

The moment he finished, he fell flat against you and his hand reached out and grabbed your thigh, clinging onto you like he was dying and you were his lifeline. His head was pressed firmly against your leg and he was still shaking and breathing heavily from his release.

His face was burning red from the strain he just went through. He felt as though he shot out his soul in the process of drenching himself. He had a stupid grin on his face as he looked up at you with pleading eyes.

“Can I stay now?” He asked in a desperate tone, with those same damned puppy dog eyes.

Rolling your eyes, you smile down at him and suck on your teeth. He always knew how to push your buttons and get what he wanted, every single time.

“Fine. But keep those hands to yourself.”

[sacharinee]

pairing: bestfriend!peter parker x fem!reader

sypnosis: after peter misses his chance to ask you out to the homecoming dance, he has to suffer the consequences of his own actions

wc: 1200+

a/n: hiii!! i have the urge to write again bc im bored and i dont wanna do my summer course work. this prompt is based on this post and loosely based on that one scene in the movie ladybird when she gets picked up by her date. i wrote this super quickly so not the best but i hope u enjoy :)

peter had it first. he had the idea, the flowers, the poster, your favorite chocolate strawberries all ready for you. until brad davis came in and stole everything. 

now he has nothing. he’s on your bed munching on the melty strawberries as he watches you get ready for the dance; you’ve asked for his help in choosing which dress you should go for. 

“okay how ‘bout this one, pete?” the boy glances up at you, mid-chew with his mouth open. 

his eyes snake over the outfit you’ve chosen. you do a swift twirl to show off the pretty soft blue satin dress that falls down to your mid-thigh with an open back. the skirt of your dress rides a bit high revealing a little too much. peter gulps, running his hands down his legs, immediately your sweet honey perfume floods his senses, his brain feels a little fuzzy, and he thinks the room gets smaller while his pants get a tiny bit tighter.

however, your eyes are what he takes in the most. you look eager, nervous about his approval, and hopeful for his admission.

his eyes widen as he gives you a soft nod and a pursed smile, “super pretty.”

you stare back at peter, his hair is flared, and you see chocolate smeared on his bottom lip. his posture looks defeated and you can’t help but wonder what’s wrong with him.

you give him a sour yet confused face, “why is your face like that?”

peter’s eyebrows furrow at your expression, “my face- why is my face like what?” 

“like…” you take a moment to think, “like- you look like that chef in that one movie with the rat, he’s got that same awkward funny looking face.”

peter barks out a laugh in disbelief, “alfredo linguini?? from ratatouille?!” “yea! that guy.” 

the boy in front of you offers you a pout and rubs his eyes, “thanks.”

“sure thing.” peter glazes over your seamless makeup when you take a seat next to him, “so, you’re really not coming? why not? it’ll be fun, plus all of our friends are going” you whine. 

peter kicks himself every day since you got asked out to homecoming by brad. he knows he should have made his proposal to you sooner, but now that he missed his chance, he feels like he’s lost you. 

“oh, so brad’s our friend now? and nah, it’s alright. i’m just gonna go patrolling tonight, might get some good action.” his eyebrows suggestively 

 you muster up a smirk and breathe out a laugh, “right. maybe you’ll find your own ‘cupid of crime’ that’ll show you a good time.” 

peter groans at you, “oh my god, margot robbie is so-”

honk!

“oh,” your ears perk up at the sudden interruption, “i guess that’s my date.” you quickly stand up and straighten your dress, taking nervous breaths. 

“i’m good right? my dress? face? hair?” your fingers run through your shiny locks, “its- i’m, i’m okay?”

peter has an indiscernible look plastered on his face as he gazes out the window and back at you. he’s shocked you’d settle for this, and even more appalled at you’re excitement to go with a douchebag who can’t even meet you at the front door. he knows you deserve better than this, and he knows he would treat you so much better with much less than your date. his stomach turns upside down and he feels his face get hot, breathing through his nostrils as he struggles to control his disbelief. he slowly stands up and meets your anxious expression peering up at him.

“you aren’t gonna get in a car with a guy who honks, are you?” 

it’s almost as if the entire atmosphere shifts. peter studies your appearance. your face shimmered sanguinely regardless, brighter than the glitter that sparkled atop your eyelids.

it was safe to say you were excited to go to the dance, even if your date wasn’t your first choice. you had been waiting endlessly for peter to ask you to homecoming. you were almost depressed at the thought thinking your crush didn’t like you back, but even more upset at the fact that your best friend didn’t even want to take you as his date, romantically or not. 

you remembered the feeling of delight swirling through your body as betty gushed about ned asking her to the dance, and mj agreeing to harry’s proposal. 

you only wanted the same for yourself. the same thrill and warm feeling of someone wanting to take you as their date. you wanted more than anything for it to be peter, but you figured he simply didn’t think of you like that as empty time and hopeless anticipation went by. so yes, you did settle for brad davis. he’s only ever been sweet to you, with harmless flirting and sultry smiles in the halls. plus you had a hunch about peter’s displeasing stance on the man, and presumed this may have tipped peter over just the right amount. 

you simply blink at his desperate eyes and nod, your adamant expression not wavering, “i think, yes, i am.”

you offer him a wistful smile when you brush past him, grabbing your purse on the way.

“y/n, stop.” peter’s finger’s wrap around your small wrist, your charm bracelet dangling against his hand.

“are you serious? what, the shithead can’t walk a few feet and knock on the door like a real man?”

“peter!” you snatch your wrist back and his hands rise.

you feel heat rushing up your neck and settling behind your ears. you had wanted a reaction out of peter when brad asked you out, yes, but the entitlement he has to mention about the manhood of brad angered you.

“i’m just saying,” he steps back from you, licking his dry lips while he chuckles back at you. “a guy who doesn’t have the balls to greet you at your doorstep isn’t worth falling for.” 

you scoff at him, he was so sweet and now he’s only taking his anger out on you. “well it’s a good thing that he’s just a friend then. what’s it to you anyways?”

peter disregards your last statement, “a friend?! y/n/n, listen to me. you’re being naive if you think he just wants to be your friend.”

another honk outside pierces your ears, yet you can’t seem to shake your stare on the boy before you. you narrow your eyes at him.

“you sound jealous.”

peter sputters nonsense out and breaks his eyesight away from you, nervously running his hands through his curls.

“jealous? me? pfft. never. i’m not jealous, i’m- i’m being absolutely reasonable.”

you keep your eyes on him as he looks down at the carpet floor. he sighs and drops down at your chair, scratching the wood on your desk. his head shakes and ever so softly murmurs, “seriously, why are you going out with him?”

peter continues to stare at the rotten wood he’s chipping, “brad asked me to be his date, so i’m going whether you like it or not. unless,” peter glances back up at you.

“there’s something you’re not telling me.”

hope bubbles down in your stomach, and you anticipate his confession, waiting to hear the words of his true feelings that you know for certain are deep down inside him.

except, he doesn’t.

the boy only blankly stares at your desk, clenching his jaw, and drowns everything inside, letting you down yet another time. you turn away, disappointed in peter, ready to leave him alone for all the false hope and hurt he has caused you. 

“right, well, when your balls finally drop, let me know. i’ll be at the dance with my date.” 

[livingemkayde]

ride

neighbor!joel miller/dbf!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: Rated 18+. Minors please dni. Smut. fingering f!receiving, grinding/dry humping, pet name (angel, baby), swearing. Not proof read.

a/n: bit the bullet and wrote something about joel. This was meant to be a one shot (a really fucking long one-shot holy shit) but if you guys want more parts just comment or lmk. Taking a small teeny tiny break from my beloved din (he will forever and always be the standard tho lol).

wc: 4k

this is the first installment of my small dbf!joel mini series!

find the next parts in my masterlist

“Hello?” you shout as you walk through the threshold of your home — your childhood home. You haven’t been back in Texas for a couple years. Your studies and research have admittedly kept you too busy and sometimes your dad would fly out to see you in California. 

You really haven’t been back since two Christmases ago. And by really you mean you haven’t seen Joel since two Christmases ago. 

You’d been desperate for graduation some weeks ago, and now that you’re back, you remember how slow Austin is. And how small. How everyone knows each other and each other’s business. But sometimes that’s kinda nice. 

Word spread quickly about your recent graduation and your dad kept bothering you about having a party — but it all seemed silly to you. 

He isn’t the party planning type, so naturally, it fell through the cracks. He did say something about having Joel and Sarah over instead. That got your attention. You haven’t seen your neighbor from across the street in a couple years, his daughter even longer. You wonder how grown up she is—you miss them both.

You know your dad and Joel have gotten closer since you’ve been gone. When you were younger, they were always friends, but more so in a ‘we’re neighbors and we both have daughters so let’s hang out a couple times a week’ type of way. But after your sparse visits and facetime calls, you can tell they’ve gotten close. Really close. The kind of friend that has keys to your front door and can ‘use my grill whenever you want ol’man’ said your dad. The kind of friend that spends every holiday together, and treats each other's kids as their own. 

“Hello?” you try again as you lug a suitcase and duffle bag into the foyer. You had shipped all your belongings back to Austin from California a couple days ago and hopped on a flight with no return ticket. It felt nice to be home — you were excited for your first summer with no prospects of school looming around the fast approaching September. 

“Nice welcome,” you mumble under your breath as you shut the front door. You figure your dad might be out. It's a Saturday — and it’s fucking hot. You huff and shrug out of our cardigan, placing it on the banister of the stairs before rolling up your sleeves. 

You haul your suitcase up the stairs and abandon it on the floor of your bedroom — partially unzipped from digging a pair of shorts and a tank top out before making your way downstairs. 

You shuffle into the kitchen to get a drink— a note on the fridge catches your eye. 

Someone’s number. And your name underneath it. 

You recognize the area code as someone who lives in Austin, but you aren’t sure whose it is — let alone why your name is written under it. Like someone called asking for you and your dad was too forgetful to tell you.

You brush it off and move towards the whiteboard which hangs on the fridge next to the note. 

It’s your dad’s handwriting, you recognize it. It’s a list of stuff your dad had planned for the day. 

Grocery 

Home Depot

Joel’s

You smile at his poorly articulated plans and at Joel’s name at the bottom of the list. You’re happy they can keep each other company. Sarah is at that age where all she wants to do is hang out with friends at the mall, and you’ve been away for four years. You note your dad is probably with Joel. You didn’t get a chance to text him when you landed so you don’t blame him for not being around when you got back. 

You grab a mug from a cabinet and fill it with ice, opening the fridge to grab some lemonade. When you begin pouring, you can hear the door open from the foyer directly ahead of you. 

A loud chorus of laughter rings through your ears when the door opens and you look up from the drink you’re pouring to the door. 

Your dad enters first, his figure hunched over, laughing, while his hand jiggles the keys out of the front door. 

You can hear another laugh join from behind him. It’s not as loud or obnoxious (not that your dad is obnoxious) but settles for a small huff and a couple ha ha’s. You know who it is before you can see him. You can see the peak of curly brown hair follow in as your dad’s eyes meet yours. 

“Baby!” he shouts, drops his hand from the door — the keys still hanging from the lock — and moves towards you in the kitchen. You abandon your drink and move to hug him. He gives you a big hug, lifting you off your feet and sets you back down while giving you a kiss on the forehead. 

“Hey dad,” you say while straightening out your all too small tank-top you wouldn't have worn if you had known there was going to be company. Especially this kind of company. 

“You shoulda told me you landed! I was waiting to pick you up from the airport,” he notes while putting his hand on his hip. You can see Joel out of the corner of your eye, picking the keys out of the lock and shrugging off his light jacket — showing his gray t-shirt which lies under. 

You flush. 

“No, no dad —” you chuckle, breathless. “It’s okay. Taxi was faster. You always get lost around the airport.” 

“Damn signs get me all turned around,” he mutters under his breath while making his way past you into the kitchen. 

“You ‘member Joel right?” your dad jokingly asks from the kitchen. He’s already got his head buried in the fridge looking for something to eat. 

“Yes. Ha ha dad —” you turn your head from the kitchen and look up at Joel, “— hey,” your arms come to wrap around your torso, suddenly a little insecure about your state of dress. 

“Hey, kid,” he replies coolly. Settling into the middle of the foyer. His head bends to the side slightly but he keeps his eyes trained on you. He looks at you through hooded eyes. 

“So biology —” he moves past you to follow your dad into the kitchen, you trail after him, “too smart for your ol’man now.” 

“Hardly,” you say as you all settle in the kitchen. You dad — who still has his head in the fridge — snorts. He mumbles something about plants, doctors, and I ain’t that old from behind the door. 

Your dad tosses Joel a can of beer and he catches it. He pulls one out for himself and shuts the fridge. They both swig the cold beer — relief hits them after being in the heat. 

“Congratulations are in order,” Joel says and takes another sip — his eyes don’t leave yours as he tilts his head back, you watch his Adam's apple bob up and down. He leans back against the counter, facing you, arms crossed.

“Yeah…thanks,” you reply sheepishly as you sit at the island chairs giving him a small smile — the counter separating you. 

“No neighborhood party?” Joel says while turning his head to look at your dad. 

“I — I tried my fuckin’ best. You know how hard it is to get everyone’s number?” your dad laughs while taking another sip of his beer, running a hand over his forehead — rubbing his eyes. 

“Just knock on people’s doors man — it ain’t that hard,” Joel quips back teasingly while chuckling. Your dad shoves him playfully. You smile at them. They remind you of teenage boys. Or frat boys. You laugh at both images. 

“You want a party, kiddo?” your dad looks at you sheepishly, like he really means it. 

Maybe it would be nice to see the people in your neighborhood, but the thought of a party dedicated all to you seemed overkill. 

“No…s'alright,” you reply, sipping on some lemonade. Your eyes quickly shift to cheat a glance at Joel, but he’s already looking at you. You avert your eyes quickly.

“Maybe barbecue. Not a party. Barbecue,” your dad throws out his arms and says the words like he’s testing the idea to you and Joel. You shrug with a smile in response and Joel tips his beer to your dad and takes another swig. 

The phone rings in the other room. You honestly still can’t believe your dad still has a landline. He rushes to get it, leaving you and Joel alone in the kitchen. 

“Remind me where you were at again?” he says, pushing off the back counter and leaning forward on the island to meet your eye. 

“USC,” you reply before bringing your lips to the rim of the glass again. 

“That’s right,” he says and stands back up straight. “Smart girl,” he adds — lowly — and you sort of freeze. 

His words — even though seemingly not sexual or suggestive — send a heat down to the place between your legs. You push your thighs together and pray he doesn’t notice. 

“You liked it?” He adds. 

“Loved it. The bio program there was really great,” you say, playing with your cup’s handle.

“How’ve you been?” you ask, curious. You rest your chin in the palm of your hand. 

“M’fine. Same as always,” he says, meeting your eye. 

“Sarah?” you ask, tilting your head. 

“Good. Into boys now or somethin’,” he notes, shaking his head. 

“‘S normal,” you chuckle. He gives you a certain look that makes your head spin. It’s suddenly too hot in this house despite the constant flow of your air conditioning. 

“I guess,” he mumbles. 

Your dad emerges from the living room, shaking his head. 

“Fuckin’ kid again. Always callin’ my phone like it’s a goddamn hotline or somethin’,” he mumbles as he enters. He looks up to you, “Some kid is always callin’ the house askin’ for you,” he nods in your direction. 

“Who?” you ask, curious, and now — maybe a bit on edge because of Joel.

“Dunno. Some kid named Liam. Said he went to highschool with you,” he says, sitting across from you, Joel somewhat behind him. 

“Always askin’ if you’re home yet — you know this guy kiddo?” he asks, his head quips to look at you. 

Suddenly it feels like all eyes are on you, because they are. Joel’s are trained carefully on you, waiting for your response. You glance up at him and quickly look back down to meet your dad’s gaze. 

You did know him —  Liam. An old fling from high school. A ‘friends with benefits’ sort of thing, but you had ended it pretty quickly after school finished. You made it your mission to go to college with no strings attached to anyone. He tried to keep it in touch through college but you eventually attempted to ghost him — you thought it was successful until now. 

Your eyes widen. 

“Uh—yeah. I guess,” you flush and look down to your fingers around the glass of lemonade. You pick at the skin there. “Boyfriend from high school, dad.” 

“Huh. Don't ring a bell,” he says, and you chuckle silently. 

You don’t miss Joel’s unmoving face. Though he looks unbothered. You have to admit — you’re a bit disappointed by that. 

“His number’s on the fridge. Wrote it down the first time he called and forgot to ring you ‘bout it,” he gestured to the note. 

“Geez. Thanks dad,” you move to pick the note off the fridge and put it in your pocket. No use in leaving it up there for the whole world to see. 

Joel’s eyes follow you, and trail to the note being shoved into your pocket. 

“I should go. Gotta pick up somethin’ from the office,” he says as he breaks his gaze to look at his watch.

“Yeah, yeah sure. She’ll walk you out. I’m beat,” your dad gestures in your direction while making his way towards the couch in the living room. Joel waves ‘bye’ and your dad follows suit —  holding his hand up with his back still turned towards you. He disappears out of sight. You can hear the TV click on, and some FBI drama series begins to echo loudly through the house. 

You make your way to the door, Joel follows suit. When you reach the foyer, you bend down to pick his jacket up from the bench. You hold it out to him, he takes it — and when your hands brush against each other — you gasp. A loud gasp. Loud enough for Joel to definitely hear it, but not loud enough for your dad to hear over the sounds of gunshots and some yelling.

Your eyes snap up to look at his, to find them already staring back at you. You drop his gaze quickly and let go of his jacket. 

“I’m actually gonna head out too. I’ll walk you to your truck,” you say, trying to be polite. You shake your head at the embarrassment you feel because he definitely just heard you gasp like a teenager over your hands brushing. 

You step out, certain your dad is already drifting to sleep on the couch. 

The sunset hits your face and you squint under its rays. Joel follows you out the door, shutting it behind him. 

You see his truck sitting a house down from yours and begin to walk with Joel settling next to you. 

“You goin’ to see him?” he asks, not meeting your eye. 

“Who?” you reply —  teasing. 

“Don’t play dumb. That boy botherin’ you?” he asks, while approaching his truck. You both settle into some slow steps until you’re leaning against the side of his black flatbed and he’s standing in front of you. 

“What’s it to you?” you ask, teasing again. 

“Nothin’—” he replies, shaking his head and looking past the truck, to his house across the street. “Didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” 

“Wasn’t really my boyfriend. Just easier to explain that to my dad than what it really was,” you reply, trying to meet his eye. Trying to get an indication of — anything. 

A beat. 

He doesn’t meet your eye. 

Another beat. 

“‘N what was it really?” he asks, shoving his hands into his front pockets. 

“Thought it was nothin’ to you,” you bite back with a smirk.

“Yeah, well maybe it’s somethin’ —” he catches your gaze for a moment before looking down at the concrete. You cross your arms. “— if he’s botherin’ you.” 

“He’s not bothering me. Just an old…friend,” you say with a smirk playing on your lips. 

“Friend? Got any other ‘friends’ I gotta worry about?” He quips back. It's playful. 

“Didn’t know you worried about me,” you say with a small smile.

“Only when your ‘friend’ calls the house twice a week sayin’ you don’t pick up his calls.” 

“Yeah well I've had other things on my mind.” You look at him. Really look at him. It forces his gaze to meet yours. 

He drops it quickly. 

Some silence. 

Fuck, what is happening? 

“Y’wanna ride?” His head gestures to the truck behind you. You find yourself nodding, and moving towards the passenger seat door. Joel opens it for you, you flush and almost lose balance while hoisting yourself in. You mumble a small thank you and tell him you were actually planning to just go to the library near your house to pick up a couple books.

He starts the engine and begins to pull out onto the street.

“Books?” He follows up. 

“Gonna continue some research while I look for a job,” you say, and pick at your fingers in your lap. 

“Could always babysit Sarah,” he teases.

“16’s a little old for a babysitter? Don’t you think?” you quip.

You settle into a soft silence after your laughter dies down. He turns down some streets and settles on the main road. The radio is off. You wonder if he drives in silence when he’s alone. You know Sarah liked it when the radio was blasting in the car. 

“So, there’s no other…” he starts, a lazy hand placed over the top of the steering wheel. “no one else?” he finishes, awkwardly. 

His hand comes down the center console to rest on the gear stick.

“You’re asking me if I'm dating?” you chuckle a bit, peaking over at him. He keeps his eyes on the road. “God, you’re worse than my dad.” 

“Wouldn’t say that, angel.” 

Fuck. 

The nickname rolls right off his tongue and hits you between your legs. You shuffle in your seat. You don’t know how much longer you can do this before you soak through your shorts. 

You continue to sneak glances at him. 

“No. I’m not,” you answer his question from before. 

“Hm,” is all he says, rounding the corner. 

“Hm?” you reply — teasing him. “You got something to say?” 

 “Just surprised is all,” he says, more serious. 

“Yeah?” You reply, mostly because you want to hear him talk more but partially because you have no idea what to say.

“Mhm —” he throws a glance in your direction “—unless you’re gonna finally give that poor boy a chance.” 

“Probably not. He’s…boring,” you answer like you’re thinking about it.

“Boring? That it?” He says. 

“Yeah. Or maybe I’m just looking for something else,” you try to meet his gaze but he focuses on the road. 

“Sure —” he replies “— just didn’t think a pretty girl like you would be single after college.”

Pretty. Pretty. 

Joel Miller just called you pretty and didn’t even bat an eye. You can feel the wet spot in your panties begin to grow and you shuffle again, rearranging in the passenger. 

Is this real? 

Or is it years of built up sexual frustrations about your dad’s best friend building up and threatening to spill over at the sound of him calling you pretty? 

It seemed innocent enough. 

But you can’t help but feel something between you. 

Something different. 

Like maybe he doesn’t think of you as an innocent little girl anymore. 

You don’t know what’s gotten into you. Maybe it’s the heat. Or maybe it's the enormous wet spot growing in your panties from a few words thrown carelessly your way. But you want him. Really want him. And you know he would never make the first move. So you do it for him. 

You reach out — tentatively — to the center console to grab his hand on the gear shift. He looks at you, and you meet his eye. There’s a sort of darkness behind his pupils — like his irises have gone a shade darker and you didn’t notice. You lead his hand over to your lap, bringing it down so his fingertips rest on the inside of your thigh. 

You can hear both of your uncontrolled breathing. Yours sounds more like a gasp at his touch, while he lets out a sharp breath when his hand ventures into your space. 

After a couple seconds, he squeezes your thigh in his palm and you sigh. The truck drives over an especially rough patch of road and it jostles your body. His fingers threaten to make their way higher. You squirm in anticipation. 

“Quit moving,” is all he says with a deep voice, his eyes still on the road. 

You stop squirming, despite your wanting anticipation and a nervous cloud that blankets your mind. 

But his words only spur you on further — only makes you want more. 

His pinky finger toys with the hem of your shorts, you part your legs for him, and he scoffs. 

“What I say?” He grabs your thigh roughly. Splits them apart, and slips his hand under your shorts, finding the soft fabric of your panties. He slowly runs his finger over your clit, teasing downward. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles. You squeak quietly in response. 

“You wet?” Your eyes shut, “Huh angel?” 

You nod, but that makes him let out a small tsk sound. 

“Words,” he demands. 

“Y-yes. Yes,” you let out. 

He ventures lower, and you suddenly worry about his reaction to how wet you are, but he lets out a growl from deep in his throat and pulls your panties to the side. 

“Fuck. Used to be such a good girl.” his thumb nudges your clit as his middle finger touches your aching entrance, gathering your slick. “Now look at you. Fuckin' soaked. Clenching around nothin',"

“F-fuck—Joel—p-please.”  

He only scoffs in response. 

How can he be so focused on the road while he’s got his hand down your pants? 

His finger still toys at your clit, making you moan and whimper. You feel close just from that. You might come, embarrassingly fast — with no penetration — and you don’t want this to end so you put a light hand on his wrist and he stops his movements. 

“P-pull over. Please pull over.” 

He does, he pulls over to some side street. It's late now, the sun just barely peaks over the horizon and you’re both met in a dark dusky light. 

He puts the car in park with the same hand that was just toying with you, that still has your wetness all over it — you flush. 

You expect him to continue, to put his hand back down your pants. But he looks down at his fingers. Inspecting his hand under the soft light. 

“You tryin’ to get us killed?” 

“No,” you reply softly. 

“Your dad would have my neck,” he says, bringing his fingers to his lips. Oh my god. 

“I know,” you whisper, entranced by his movements, “But I'm all grown up.” 

He lets out a puff. 

He sits there for a long time. He doesn’t meet your eye. You’re on the edge of your seat waiting for something to be said. Anything. Your orgasm is long forgotten under all the uncertainty. 

“Take your shorts off," he says, waving a hand in your direction. 

“What?” You ask, surprised. 

"Shorts," he leans over to grab your face, "Now."

He lets your face go, and you slip your shorts off, face flushing in embarrassment. He watches you the whole time, seeing you bare for him makes him groan a bit — you like the sound of it.

He grabs you then, lifting you off your seat, so you bring one leg over his body, straddling him. The steering wheel digs into your back. When you’re fully seated, you can feel his length, hard and wanting, press into your core. It makes your head tilt back as you grind down on instinct. 

He grabs your hips to stop your movement. 

“Please Joel—I-please f—” he slides a finger through your folds and cups your core with his hand. 

You moan loudly, and whimper at the feeling of his breath so close to your face. 

“Quiet.” You grind down in his hand, he lets you. “‘Less you want someone on the street hearin’ you.” 

“Joel…” you let out in a pathetic whine. 

He sinks a finger into you. You gasp at the sudden intrusion. He meets your eye. His brows furrow almost like he feels sorry for you.

When he feels how wet you are, he sinks in a second. He lets out a god as you grind down against his thrusts, the palm of his hand hitting your clit just right —like you’re close already. 

“Fuck baby.” He groans when he feels your walls tighten around his thick fingers. “Already?” 

“Joel—I—fuck-p-please—ah—” 

His fingers sink deeper. You throw your head back, your back hitting the steering wheel. 

You both know you’re close, just a bit more and you’re gonna come, embarrassingly quick.

"That's it—c'mon angel. Know you want it," he pants, you whimper in response.

But his phone rings. And he looks down to the center console where it’s buzzing, and sees your dad’s name pop up. 

His hand stops, and you whine in protest, but he throws you a knowing look, your eyes meeting him then down to the phone. 

You go rigid. 

You look back at him, panic in your eyes, as everything kinda floods back. Like the fact that your dad’s best friend almost made you come in his truck. 

He picks up the phone, and holds it to his ear. He gives you a ‘be quiet’ motion and you sink back into his lap. 

“What’s up?” He answers. 

You seen my daughter? I woke up and she was gone. 

Your eyes widen. 

“Uh—yeah. I drove her to the library. Figure she’s still there,” he says, coolly, like he wasn’t seconds from making you come all over his hand. In his lap. 

Oh. 

Some silence. You can tell Joel is waiting with bated breath. 

Okay. Thanks. 

“Yeah no problem,” Joel responds. 

Alright. See you later.

“Yup,” he says, and hangs up quickly. 

He looks back at you, and down to your cunt, bare for him, in his truck.

Fuck. 

_

part ii

[paradisedumpling]

Rosy Cheeks and Warm Jackets

trope: quarterback!minji x shycheerleader!reader; fluff; tiny bit of angst if you squint really hard

content warning: yeonjun is a bit of a perv here sorry (he checks reader out twice); brief mention of making out; reader is a bit insecure; some curse words; minji calls reader hot like once; some grammatical errors; not proof read

a/n: I wrote this a few months ago and my knowledge about american football sucks, but this trope was stuck with me for so long I had to do something about it so I hope it's not that obvious (I'm also very bad at making synopsis lol)

synopsis: you never planned to do anything about your life long crush on the quarterback of your school's football team, but fate seems to be against you and it puts you together again and again....

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

You turned around as loud whistles resonated within the school halls. The football team walked down with pride in each of their steps. Have won a very important game just the day before, who wouldn't?

You yourself had a small proud smile on your face as people cheered on them. Being part of the cheer squad, you knew a part of the win was also yours and it made you happy to know everyone's spirits seemed to be high after yesterday's game.

And because you were a cheerleader, you knew the football team personally, even going as far as to say you had friends in there. Although with being a very shy person, you were only really close with a few of your teammates. But your nice personality and popularity by simply being in the cheer squad managed to have you know a lot of people, despite your shyness.

A familiar loud bickering averted your attention from the overall image of the football team to two specific girls upfront, walking between and ahead of the entire team with big smiles on their faces; Kim Minji and Pham Hanni, the star duo of the football team.

You knew the two best friends not only from the games, but also from being in the same year and class as them and because Hanni was your best friend Danielle's girlfriend. You all hangout in the same group most of the time, but your shyness forbade you from getting too close with the duo.

Your eyes finally settled on the quarterback of the team, Minji. Tall, beautiful, easy-going, gorgeous, funny, pretty, talented at everything she touches. Minji was the definition of perfection, if someone was ever to ask you to define it. And she wasn't a mean person or thought of herself as above others, as the perfect girl in every movie did. No. That's what made her even more perfect in your opinion. Minji was perfection, the perfect one. And you wouldn't lie if you said she makes your heart skip a few beats everytime you see her or hear her voice.

It had been like that for a while, too. You and Minji had shared classes for as long as you can remember. The two of you always being in the same friend groups and were always at each others birthday parties, but you never got closer than that. You only came to share phone numbers after you got into the cheer squad. Still, Minji seemed to have always captured your heart. Since the moment you two met in kindergarten when you lost your figurine in the playground and she was the only kid who helped you find it, to all the moments you hangout together with your friends today and she buys you your favorite slushie even though she never asked your favorite before.

"Take a picture so it lasts longer." A voice beside you startled you, making you jump and turn around with a blush on your cheeks.

Kang Haerin, your best friend and a cheerleader, stood by your side as she eyed you with an annoyed expression. Haerin was the only close friend you had that knew about your not so small crush on the quarterback. Not that you didn't trust your other friends, but Danielle would eventually spill it to her girlfriend accidentally and Hyein would try to set you two together in a very obvious way. So it was better like this.

"Shut up!" You turned around, closing your locker and grabbing her arm to start walking towards Danielle's locker, face not looking at the football star players direction anymore knowing they were also going in that direction. "And I don't want to hear a word about it."

"I wasn't even going to say anything." You stopped to look at her, raising your eyebrow. She had a grin in the corner of her lips, eyes darting around as she faked uninterest. You scoffed, rolling your eyes and tugging her arm again.

"Hey, girls!" Danielle greeted you two as you approached her. You and Haerin said your greetings before she was engulfed in a hug by a certain football player. "Baby!"

You watched in amusement as the couple greeted each other and shared affection as if they haven't seen each other in ages. A giggle left your lips once you heard Haerin gagging at your side. "I'm gonna look for Hyein." You nodded at her words, still watching the couple, this time with longness in your eyes.

"They're so gross, ew." You turned to your side to be faced with Minji, a face of disgust directed at your friends actions. "Don't you think so, Y/nnie?" Your eyes widened as she turned to you, catching you looking at her.

She smiled down at you, giggling at your surprised expression. You only nodded, cheeks blushing a light red as you stared at Minji's eyes.

"Good morning, Minji-ah." You greeted shyly, eyes darting down to look at the books in your arms, clutching them tightly to your chest. "You did great yesterday."

"If it wasn't for your cheering, I wouldn't have gotten the energy to win the game." Your face got impossibly redder and you didn't know if she was laughing at you or not, but you would never complain about hearing her laugh. "You're cute when–"

"There's our star player!" Minji was cut off by a loud voice and a smack on her shoulder. You both turned to look as a tall boy smiled at her with pride while you tried to calm your racing heart as you caught Minji's attempt of complimenting you. "You were seriously amazing yesterday! We need to have more practices together cause I have to learn that pass you did to get us the match point!" You watched as he excitedly engaged into a conversation with Minji, who simply nodded and smiled at him.

The boy was none other than Choi Yeonjun, the captain of the masculine football team and a starting eleven player. You.... were very acquainted with Yeonjun, if you could call it that. Yeonjun was the type of person that knew everyone in and out of school. He was very popular and social and it wasn't uncommon for him to hop between friends in the school halls. Still, he had his group of close friends. And one of these close friends was Huening Kai, a tennis player in your school who had a younger sister you were friends with, Huening Bahiyyih. One time last year she invited you to their beach house for a gathering with a few athletes in the school, and Yeonjun was there. You didn't interact much at the beginning, but after Bahiyyih dragged you to dance one night you seemed to have caught his eyes. For the remaining time at the beach house he openly flirted with you and tried to get you to go on a date with him, but you always turned him down. After all, you had eyes for another football player. But that didn't prove much efficient as to this day he still tries to date you.

"And when you grabbed the ball and started running–" Yeonjun's eyes flickered towards you for a slip second as he was passionately talking about yesterday's game with Minji and he finally seemed to notice there was someone else with her before he approached, you just couldn't decipher if he had also seen Hanni and Danielle making out behind the three of you or not. He faltered in his speech as he stopped to check you out and you suddenly became very conscious of the revealing cheer uniform you were wearing. "Oh, hey there Y/n. I didn't see you before, sorry." You tightened your grip on your books, smiling politely at him. You shifted uncomfortably as he bluntly checked you out. "Nice fit."

"Thanks." You mumbled with a tight smile, bringing a hand down to pull your skirt down. It wouldn't do anything, but it was an effort. You mentally cursed yourself for not coming with a pair of sweatpants like Haerin and Danielle did. You see, you normally don't wear your uniform around school like that, unless you have practice during the first periods of class. But as per tradition, you always take a group photo after big games. Yesterday you couldn't because of the after party so you were going to take it today during lunch time, and your coach insisted you all came with your uniforms so it wouldn't take too long. You were not expecting to deal with Yeonjun or any other of your admires before you could change to your normal clothes though.

"So." Minji cleared her throat, eyeing Yeonjun with disgust as she leaned closer to you and wrapped her arm around your shoulders. That seemed to snap Yeonjun's eyes from your exposed legs. "We can talk with our coaches about the joined practice later, right?" Yeonjun nodded as he eyed Minji's arm around you, blinking a few times before he looked up to look at her in the eye, a bright smile on his lips.

"Totally!" He put his hands inside his jacket's pockets, standing carelessly on his heels as if the action didn't affect him, but both you and Minji knew it did.

"Great!" She smiled at him and if you were looking you'd see the threat in her eyes. "We have to go fetch the other girls right now, if you don't mind. See you later!" Not giving him any time to reply, she grabbed Hanni by the back of her collar and started dragging her away, gently rubbing your shoulder and ushering Danielle. "Come on Dani, before Haerin let's Hyein buy that gross candy again."

"Damn bro, no need to choke me." Minji let go of Hanni when you were far away enough from Yeonjun and you watched the poor girl rub her neck as she stared at Minji judgely. "What was that for?" Hanni asked, wrapping her arm around Danielle's waist as the four of you walked towards the interior court where you knew Haerin and Hyein were.

But the oldest girl simply ignored her best friend. Instead, she turned to you, gently whispering in your ear. "Are you okay?"

You nodded, blushing at her breath on your ear. "Yeah, thanks." You sighed, looking down at your exposed legs and arms. Probably the only thing you hated about cheerleading was the summer uniforms. "I should've come with leggings or something at least, that's on me. Sorry." You looked up as you apologized, staring into her beautiful eyes that held nothing but concern. You didn't fail to notice the pout on her lips.

"It's his fault for being a creepy perv, not yours." She grumbled, arms pulling you closer as she practically hugged you to her chest. Suddenly, her eyes light up as she let go of you. You couldn't help the pang in your chest as she did so. "Here." She started taking her varsity jacket off and you eyed her with curiosity. "It's not much but I hope it helps." Your eyes widened once you realized what she was doing and you couldn't help the blush on your cheeks as she gently helped you put her varsity jacket on. Minji smiled proudly as she stared at you.

"Thanks, Min." You smiled shyly at her, averting your gaze and missing how her eyes softened at the nickname.

Minji didn't put her arm back around your shoulders as the four of you continued on your way to meet up with the rest of your friends, but she remained close and kept an eye for anyone else glaring at you.

Finally, you reached the interior court. "There they are!" Danielle pointed to your usual corner, where you could clearly see the two bickering about something. You let a small smile rest on your face as you watched them, shaking your head as you approached calmly.

"Unnies!" Hyein jumped as she saw you four approaching, running to grab you by your hand and drag you to where she previously was. "Can you help me with my arts homework? I forgot to do it yesterday and Haerin doesn't want to help me." She pouted, looking at you with pleading eyes.

"You know your teacher will eventually realize I'm the one doing your homeworks, right?" You sighed as you sat down beside Haerin, waiting for Hyein to hand you her homework.

Danielle and Hanni came to sit behind you three, engaging into a conversation with Minji, said girl remained standing and she put one of her feet on the bench on the other side of Haerin for support and crossed her arms on her chest. You momentarily lost yourself as you watched her laugh at whatever nonsense Hanni said, her head falling back as her eyes grew into crescent moons. God, she's beautiful.

"Here, unnie!" You turned to Hyein, trying not to blush as your eyes came down to your lap to scan her homework.

You two quietly worked on her homework as your other friends chatted. It wasn't an uncommon dynamic for all of you. Hyein was smart and dedicated, but she often used her status as youngest in the group to have any of you help her with her homeworks. In her words "Since you already did it before, it should be easy right?" And it normally was. None of you ever minded helping each other with anything. But the lingering perfume on Minji's jacket had your mind wandering more times than you'd like to and you took longer to complete Hyein's homework than you do on other days.

After you finally finished it and let the girl to gather her things in her backpack, you grabbed your cellphone to look at the time. You only had fifteen minutes before your classes begin, so you turned to the chatting girls as they seemed too engaged into their conversation to notice the time passing.

Your eyes darted between the two football players and your cheermates, feeling too shy to abruptly interrupt their conversation. So, you eyed Danielle. You tapped her leg, leaning closer as she turned to you confused. "We need to go, class is about to begin." Her mouth gained a oval shaped and she nodded, smiling at you and patting your head.

You watched with slightly flushed cheeks as she warned the other girls and you all got up to walk to class, Minji and Hanni still engaged into their conversation as you made your way out of the internal court.

Once you were approaching the point were you'd all split up to go to your perspective classrooms, Haerin pulled you back by the arm. You eyed her with confusion as she stared at you amused. "What?"

"What?" She mocked, looking down at your torso. You eyebrows furrowed deeply as you looked down, blushing in realization as you took notice of Minji's jacket, not that you ever forgot it was there. "What happened while I was gone?" She wiggled her eyebrows at you, quietly giggling at the blush spreading all over your face.

"Shut up, Rinnie!" You shushed her, looking away at anything but her face and the quarterback walking in front of you two. "Yeonjun was flirting with me again." You heard her groaning and you could imagine the immense eye roll she did. "Minji was simply trying to make me comfortable because I'm stupid and forgot pants."

"I knew I should've brought spares." She mumbled, cursing Yeonjun under her breath as you approached the hall where all of you parted ways.

You watched as Hanni and Danielle kissed and hugged goodbye, turning to give your own hug to Hyein. The younger girl waved to you all before skipping down towards her classroom and you waived to Danielle as she went on her own way too.

"I swear if that asshole–" Haerin still mumbled and you couldn't help but giggle at your friend's protectiveness. You pulled her into a hug, shushing her as she realized you had all stopped walking and Hyein and Danielle were already gone.

"I'm okay, Rinnie. Don't worry." You whispered in her ear, pulling back to give her a smile. That seemed to calm her down enough as she waved to Minji and Hanni and hurried towards her classroom.

"Why is everyone so grumpy today, man?" Hanni asked as she pulled you to stand between her and Minji, the three of you walking calmly to your own classroom. "First Minji and now Haerin. Is the water tasting like shit again?"

"Stop being gross!" Minji returned grumpily and you giggled as Hanni looked at you with an 'I told you so' face.

"Stop being a dick!" You laughed as the duo kept on bickering all the way to your class and in your tables, shaking your head.

"I'm not being a dick, your ass–"

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

"Alright girls, take five!" You heard Danielle groan in relief as Chaewon, the cheer captain, announced the break.

You and the rest of the cheerleaders have been practicing for a few hours now, the new routine being a bit more tiring than the ones you've been doing for the past few months. Theoretically, you all had a break until next week due to the win in the game the day prior. But your coach wasn't satisfied with your performance this season and she wanted to polish your routines as soon as possible, so here you all were practicing.

You walked towards the bench and grabbed your water bottle, quietly laughing as Danielle and Hyein laid down on the floor with wet cloaks on their foreheads. Haerin came up to the three of you and sat down on the bench, taking the bottle from your hands before you had a chance to take a sip of it. "Hey!"

"Not my fault you're busy staring at other people." She teased, laughing at your annoyed face before downing the water.

"Don't you do the same?" Hyein asked, looking at you two with a tired face. You smiled sympathetically at her, walking to crouch down besides her head and brush the hair sticking on her face due to the sweat away.

"That's why I can comment on it." Haerin replied, tossing you the water bottle. You grabbed it with a yelp, scolding her for not warning you beforehand. "At least I talk to Minji unnie instead of just staring." She mumbled, trying to hide her smirk as you looked at her with disbelief.

"What did you say?" Danielle asked, opening her eyes to look at the three of you with curiosity. "I didn't hear it."

"She said nothing." You glared at Haerin, silently daring her to repeat her words. She looked away, pretending to be interested in something else. "Anyways." You turned to Danielle, standing up and drinking your water. "What are you guys doing tonight? It's Friday."

"Oh! I'm going on a date with Hanni tonight!" Danielle's energy suddenly came back as she sat up quickly, the cloak falling from her forehead. But she didn't seem to mind as her smile only grew bigger, her eyes staring at the sky as she seemed to be getting lost in her own head. "She said there's this nice restaurant she's going to take me!" Her voice was dreamy and you smiled longingly as your friend kept talking. "And then later we're going to my house and watch some movies!"

"I have homework to do." Hyein groaned loudly and you all laughed as you watched her annoyed face. "Why do they give us so much homework?"

"Welcome to highschool." You, Danielle and Haerin groaned, rolling your eyes. "Good luck, Hyennie." Hyein whined at your guys words, pouting.

"I'm going to the cinema with my mom and my sister." Haerin said her plans for the night, getting up from the bench. "But we'll probably have dinner somewhere before too." She walked up to Danielle as you could see Chaewon and your coach slowly gathering the other cheerleaders. "We might run into each other if I'm lucky." She told Danielle with a sly grin as she helped the older girl stand up.

"Oh please, no." You laughed at Danielle as you helped Hyein get up. "The last time you guys crashed my date it didn't end up well." The australian's eyes widened in fear as she remembered the fateful date.

"It wasn't that bad." Hyein said as you three tried not to laugh at Danielle's expression of disbelief. "We just got banned from that restaurant for what? Three months? Nothing serious."

"You embarrassed me in front of my girlfriend!" Danielle exclaimed as you started to walk back to the middle of the court, hands going up as her body expressed her emotions. "And that was Hanni's favorite restaurant too! She was so sad." The girl pouted and Haerin and Hyein laughed at her as you laid a hand on her shoulder sympathetically.

"We apologized and she said it's all good now." You tired to comfort your friend, glaring at the two youngests that kept laughing. "She laughs everytime someone mentions it, even."

"You're right." Danielle smiled, nodding and turning to face you. "What about you, Y/n? You were the only one that didn't say what you're going to do tonight."

"Oh." You blinked at her, shrugging as you turned to your captain. "I'll probably just go home and do nothing important."

"You should go out with Minji." You choked on your own spit as the words left Danielle's mouth, turning to look at her with an evident blush rising on your face. "She's not doing anything as far as I know and neither is you, it's a perfect idea." You looked at Haerin behind her with wide eyes, silently asking her if she told the australian anything about your crush on Minji, but she seemed as surprised as you were.

"W-Why?" You cursed yourself mentally for stuttering, looking away so Danielle wouldn't see the embarrassment and shyness in your face.

"Because you're friends and you both have nothing to do on a Friday night?" You were glad she sounded genuinely confused at your question, but you couldn't help fear that she had figured out you liked Minji. You loved and trusted Danielle with your life, but if Hanni and Hyein ever found out about your crush the three of them would become the most obvious and chaotic cupids to date. And that thought horrified you. Minji deserved someone social and cool, and you didn't want to ruin your entire friend group's friendship over a stupid crush you had on the quarterback.

"We'll talk about this later." You mumbled, straightening you back as your coach yelled that the break was over.

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

You sighed as you tied your shoes, feeling relaxed after a cold shower in the locker rooms. Practice ended about an hour ago and you took your sweet time showering and dressing up. Haerin and Hyein had already left, the younger taking the opportunity to take a ride with the catlike girl. Danielle on the other hand, was still putting her shirt on by your side in front of her locker.

Talking about the australian girl. "Dani!" Kazuha, one of your cheermates, yelled to your friend, making the girl turn around while she pulled her shirt down her torso. You simply resorted to finishing putting your shoes on. "Hanni's here!" Your friend squealed in excitement and you giggled at her, shaking your head.

You tuned their conversation off, shifting your attention to a certain quarterback that seemed to always plague your mind. You clutched Minji's varsity jacket to your chest as you finished tying your shoes, a small smile resting on your lips as you reminisced about how beautiful she looked during class, laughing at whatever nonsense your classmates and Hanni said. You brought the jacket to partially hide your face when your memories brought you to a moment during bio class where the teacher assigned you all a group activity and as per tradition at this point, the football players and the cheerleaders stick together on the same group. Yunjin, a football player, was blocking your way towards your seat and she was so engaged into the activity with Kazuha that you felt too shy to ask her to move, so you waited patiently behind her. But Minji noticed you behind her and instead of asking Yunjin to move, she lifted you up so you could pass above the tables instead. To say you were a blushing mess after that was an understatement, and to make matters worse for you, or better, Minji kept an arm around your waist during the entire class, always smiling down at you and giggling at your rosy cheeks. Gosh, you loved that girl.

"I hope you're thinking about me." You jumped startled, hand gripping on the jacket as whoever just spoke to you giggled at your reaction. You looked up to see Minji looking down at you with her beautiful smile, eyebrows quirking up as you finally knowledged her. "Hi, Y/nnie."

"Hey, Min. What are you doing here?" You smiled at her, fighting back your blush as you got up and put the jacket in your hands on, finally noticing how quiet the lockers room had gotten. The others must've already left, but you didn't want to tear your eyes from the football player in front of you.

"I'm giving a ride to the girls for their date, so we came to pick Dani up." You nodded and your eyes locked for a few seconds, before you averted your gaze and went to grab your gym and school bags. "Are you going somewhere tonight too? I can give you a ride if you want."

"Oh, it's okay." You shaked your heard, looking away to see Danielle and Hanni in their own little world, giggling with each other. "I'll just go home and figure out what I'll have for dinner because no one's home for a while and there's nothing in the fridge..." You accidentally rambled, trailing off as you caught Minji smiling at you.

"Wanna go out?" You blinked at her question. Was she asking you on a date? I mean of course not, why would she? She's just asking her friend to go out because you have nothing to do and she has nothing to do so she must want to go out with her friend. Just that. Nothing else. Of course Minji wouldn't be asking you on a date why would she– "Y/n? You're cute when you get lost in your head like that." She giggled and you were certain your entire face was very red.

"What?! I am not!" You playfully slapped her shoulder, leaning into her as you both laughed, you more because of embarrassment than anything else.

"So." She held your waist with one hand, brushing a few strands of hair from your face with the other. "Wanna go out? We can go that convinience store close to my grandparents house." Your eyes lit up at that. That convenience store was one you'd go often when you were kids to buy ice cream and watch cartoons because her grandparents never let you watch them at their house.

"I would love to!" You smiled a her, big and genuine. Minji smiled down at you, caressing your cheek as she nodded. "How have they been, by the way? I haven't seen them in so long!"

"They ask about you a lot, actually." You looked at her in surprise and she only nodded, giggling. "You know they love you." You shaked your head at that, blushing slightly. "My parents miss you too. You should come over more often, I feel like we barely talk outside school or when we are not with the girls." You nodded, feeling a bit guilty. You wouldn't lie in saying that your crush had strained your friendship with the girl because of your shyness around her. But you were glad she wanted to see you more often.

Before you could engage deeper into your conversation, Hanni and Danielle came up to you two holding hands and with big smiles on their faces. "Dani's ready to go. Oh hey, Y/n." You waved at Hanni, smiling at your friends happiness. "Let's go, Minji. We have reservations, we can't be late."

"Ready to go?" Minji looked at you and you nodded. The quarterback smiled and laced her arms with yours, starting to walk away with the couple to the parking lot.

"Oh, you told her about my idea from earlier?" Danielle asked as she noticed you were following them to Minji's car.

"What idea?" Minji and Hanni looked between the two of you with curiosity and you couldn't help but look down embarrassed.

"Nothing–"

"Y/n had just said she would be doing nothing tonight so I suggested she should go out with Minji since she was also doing nothing tonight." Danielle cut you off before you could dismiss her and you were glad it was dark otherwise as Minji looked down at you with amusement she would've seen the blush spreading over your cheeks.

"Seems like us going out today was destiny." She said in a deep voice, pulling you closer and giggling at you before she let go of your arm to round the car and go towards the driver's seat. "Y/n's taking the front seat!" She glanced at Hanni who was about to open the passenger's seat door.

"Why?!" You and Danielle muffled your laughs at the girl's genuine offense. "You ask her out once and now she has passenger princess privileges?" Hanni huffed as she walked to the backseat with her girlfriend, closing the door behind her a bit harsher. "I thought we were mates, bro." She continued complaining as you all got inside Minji's car, buckling up before the older girl started the vehicle.

"Shut up and enjoy your free ride, Hanni." Minji shaked her head, giving you an reassuring smile as she saw you were feeling a bit panicked by Hanni's reaction. "She's just being dramatic, don't worry." She whispered to you before turning to face the street.

After turning on the radio, you all fell into a comfortable ambience as the couple in the backseats talked about their plans for the night, while you and Minji silently laughed, teasing them every once in a while for good laughs.

When Minji parked in front of the restaurant Hanni and Danielle would be having dinner at, she opened the window and peaked her head outside to look at the couple getting out of the car. "Remember to call your parents when you get home!" She said as she looked at Hanni, pointing an accusing finger at her. "I don't want your mom at my door at 3AM again because you forgot to text her you got at mine's safely!"

"Damn bro, that happened once!" Hanni mumbled angrily, having a bickery staring contest with Minji before Danielle broke it with a quiet laugh.

"We will, unnie. Don't worry." Danielle smiled, lacing her fingers with Hanni's. "Have a good night you two!" They waved at you two goodbye, and you turned to Minji as she mumbled.

"It was three times, actually." You giggled, and looked around faking uninterest as Minji looked at you puzzled. "Well... Shall we go to our date now?"

"Y-Yes!" You squealed, face becoming more red as Minji laughed at you. You were rigid in your seat as her hand lightly squeeze yours in your lap before shifting the gear from parked to begin driving away from the restaurant.

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

"I think I'll just have these." You handed Minji the items you wanted to buy from the convinience store: two tuna onigiris, a strawberry sandwich and a bottle of strawberry juice. The girl put the items in the basket she had looped on her arm, smiling at you sweetly. "Are we going to eat here or on your car?"

"Actually, I was thinking–" But before Minji could finish her phrase, she was interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing in the pocket of her jacket you were still wearing.

You smiled at her apologetically before grabbing your phone, looking at the familiar name popping on the screen. "Oh, it's Haerin." You were a bit confused on why the girl was calling you so late at night without warning, but you brushed it off remembering she had gone to the cinema and was either excited about it or bored by it.

"You should pick it up, Haerin doesn't usually call people." You nodded, knowing very well all the habits of your best friend. You once again smiled apologetically at Minji, but she simply gave you a sweet smile. "I'll finish grabbing my things and meet you outside?"

"Thank you, you're amazing." Wanting to rush out and answer Haerin's call before it went to voicemail, you stood on your tiptoes and kissed Minji on her right cheek as another thanks before rushing out of the store and answering the call. "What's up, Rin?"

"The movie was good but now mom's complaining about how it wasn't 'realistic' and now I'm annoyed, so I decided to annoy you too. What are you doing?" You laughed at her annoyed tone, pulling the jacket tight around your torso as a chilly breezy ran past you.

"Out with Min." You giggled at Haerin's loud gasp, feeling the warm on your cheeks, but you told yourself it was because you were cold. "She invited me to go to a convinience store close to her grandparents house. And don't be weird about it! We used to come here as kids."

"What happened after I left?!" The annoyance she had seconds ago was long gone and that made you laugh at her, lightly pacing back and forth on your reels to warm your body a little. "So, have you two kissed yet?"

"Shut up!" The warm on your neck was definitely not from the cold and you had to bite your lower lip to stop yourself from smiling at the thought of kissing the quarterback. "It's a totally platonic outting. Nothing else. And stop being weird."

"Dude, you're so dense it's frustrating sometimes." You could hear the roll of her eyes in her voice and that made your eyes roll too. "Just tell her you like her already!"

"Stop!" You squealed, looking back afraid Minji might be near, but you saw her attentively looking through the freezer for something to drink. She looked cute. "She doesn't feel the same anyways, so there's no need for that."

"You don't know it until you confess!" You rolled your eyes once again, sighing in annoyance. "Come on, Y/n! Don't be a coward for once!"

"Why are you so insistent on this? Can't I just like her from afar?" You could never understand why Haerin was so insisted on making you confess to Minji. Was it so hard for her to understand the football star would never return your feelings for her?

"No, you can't!" The girl groaned on the other side of the line and you heard some movement before she spoke again. "Use this date as an opportunity to finally bitchen up and tell her you like her! What's the worse that could happen?"

"Loose Minji's friendship?" You said that like it was the most obvious thing ever, frustration starting to build up in your chest. "Which I already am by the way, because I'm a stupid coward."

"Then stop being one!"

"Can you stop instigating me for once, Kang Haerin?!" Your voice raised a little, gripping your phone as your fear of rejection surfaced from the depths of your heart. "I'm not telling Minji I like her! End of story!" There was a loud groan from the other side of the line and you where about to tell her you wouldn't do what she wanted you to once again when a voice from behind you stopped you from doing so.

"You like me?"

Your eyes widened, body going rigid as Minji walked in front of you, looking you direct in the eyes. Suddenly, the firm grip you had on your cellphone loosened and your phone slowly fell from your hands. The loud sound it made as it hit the floor made you jump a little, but you didn't move to pick it up. You didn't blink as Minji eyes stared deeply into your own. You could feel your entire face going red and your hands start to shake from fear. This was it. The secret was out. She was going to reject you and you were going to loose one of your closest and best friends and she was going to–

"Why didn't you tell me before, silly?" She laughed. Minji laughed. Her eyes were crescent moons, just like they always were when she was happy. You'd know that much, you're always staring at her. And she had a faint blush on her cheeks. You were confused, and still locked in place. "Oh, Y/n." She stepped close to you, her voice dropping two octaves, making goosebumps go through your entire body. She brought both of her hands to your cheeks, gently caressing them. You couldn't get any redder than this. "You're cute when you're blushing."

"M-Minji I- What are you doing?" You said in a whisper, gulping down as her body was practically flush to yours. You could feel her warm breath hitting your face.

"Can I kiss you, Y/nnie?" Your eyes went wide at that and your vision became a bit blurry. Your breath got stuck in your throat and you nodded eagerly before your hazy mind could understand what you were doing.

Minji giggled at the confused and awestruck state you were in, before looking down at your lips and leaning in, the phone on the floor long forgotten by both of you.

Your mind went blank before beginning to register things again. Minji's lips were soft and a bit cold, but they felt so incredibly good. They tasted faintly like the milk chocolate you knew she loved. You took a few seconds to relax from the shock, closing your eyes and sighing into her lips before wrapping your hands around her neck. You felt Minji smile into your lips before she let one hand go of your cheek, pulling your closer to her by the waist and deepening the kiss.

You both pulled back when air was needed and you rested your head on her shoulder, giggling quietly as she gently caressed your back.

"I like you so much, Y/n." You pulled back just enough to look at her, your eyes shining with love as you bit your lips in slight shyness from her affectionate gaze.

"I think I've liked you since I met you, Minji." You took all of your courage to say that confidently, smiling brightly at her as she smiled back at you.

"Hmm, that's good." She mumbled, leaning in smiling before she captured your lips on hers once again. You were already getting addicted to the feeling of them.

This time, you were both interrupted by your phone ringing, Haerin's familiar ringtone making you remember your phone.

You pulled back with a quiet 'Sorry', crouching down to pick your phone up, that was luckily not broken, and quickly texted your best friend that your data was almost over and you'd talk to her later. You looked back at Minji, suddenly feeling shy under her sweet gaze that held a new meaning in your eyes and heart.

"So, wanna take this date to somewhere else? I don't wanna ask you to be my girlfriend in front of a convinience store." She eyed the glass sliding doors with an awkward smile, but your mind focused on something else. Girlfriend... Minji wanted to be your girlfriend. Holy shit Minji liked you! "Baby? Let's go?"

"Yes!" You squealed at the pet name, blushing brightly as she giggled and grabbed your hand, dragging you towards her parked car.

"By the way." She turned to look at you once you stopped in front of the passenger's seat, looking down at you with a sweet but mischievous smile. "You look very cute and hot wearing my football jacket."

"Kim Minji!" You squealed in disbelief as she rounded the car laughing loudly.

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

You closed your locker with a sigh, turning to face Danielle and Haerin as a few of your cheermates bid you goodbye. It was Monday again and the three of you had just changed your cheer clothes from practice before classes to your normal school ones.

"What is taking Hyein so long?" The australian mumbled, looping her arms around both yours and Haerin's arms to begin leading you towards the youngest's locker.

A few of the students waved at you three, but everyone seemed to be in their own little world. It was Monday, and most of the clubs were on a small break, so the mood around the school was a bit more chill than usual. And no sight of the two football star players like you used to see every morning.

You spotted the tall girl you were looking for speaking to a few of her classmates. When she spotted you the three of you, she waved and smiled brightly. But wishing to let Hyein speak patiently to her classmates, you pulled Danielle back to slow her pace and allow the three of you to walk slowly towards the younger girl.

Once you were close to reaching her, a loud voice seethed through the peaceful atmosphere of the hallway calling out your name. "Y/n! Wait!" You looked back confused, letting go of Danielle's arm to be greeted with the sight of Yeonjun running in your direction with a football in his hands.

"Oh, hey. Good morning, Yeonjun." You gave the boy a tight but polite smile, grateful that this time you were wearing clothes that covered your body. You could feel Haerin's intense gaze at him from behind you. "You seem excited."

"I heard well have a joined practice tomorrow!" You nodded, folding your arms in front of your torso as you hugged yourself, starting to feel uncomfortable under his intense gaze. You might not be wearing revealing clothes, but the way his eyes traveled down your body made you feel exposed just as much. "So, I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me after it." You blinked at him, not failing to hear the growl Haerin let out from behind you.

"Yeonjun..." Your voice was serious, and a bit annoyed if you were being honest, but you remained your politeness, feeling shy about making a fuss in front of so many people. "No. You know I don't see you like that."

"Just give me a chance!" He slapped his ball in frustration, looking pleadingly in your eyes. "Why not?!"

"Because she doesn't want to!" Haerin angrily answered for you. You turned to give her a stern look, turning back once again to look at Yeonjun, feeling small but annoyed under his gaze.

"I don't like you like that, Yeonjun." You sighed frustrated, fingers slightly fidgeting with the necklace you had under your shirt, the necklace Minji gave you while you didn't have official rings yet. "Besides, I'm not even sin–"

"Hey, babe." Familiar arms looped around your waist, a sweet kiss being planted on your cheeks as a big smile immediately formed on your lips. "Good morning."

You turned to look at your girlfriend Minji, standing on your tiptoes to give her a sweet kiss on her lips. "Good morning, baby. How are you doing?"

"Great, now that you're here." She smiled down at you and was about to say something else when a shocked cough interrupted her. Minji turned to look at Yeonjun, giving him a not so subtle annoyed expression. "Oh hey, Yeonjun. Were you and my girlfriend talking about something important? Sorry to interrupt you." You loved how she said girlfriend in a protective way, pulling you closer to her and tightening her hold on you.

"Oh, it was nothing." You interrupted Yeonjun before he could answer her, feeling a bit more confident in the safety of her arms. "Don't worry about it."

"Yeah, it was nothing." He mumbled, smiling awkwardly. "See you two around." He skipped away quite quickly, mumbling something under his breath.

You turned to look at Minji as she cursed him quietly, giggling as you gently caressed her nape to calm her down. You were about to lean in to kiss her again when a loud squeal interrupted you.

"I'm sorry?! I think I missed a chapter!? Girlfriend!?" The two of you turned to look at your friends, all plastering shocked faces, but Haerin was the only one smiling between them.

"Oh, did we forget to tell you guys?" Minji said nonchalantly, blinking at them before a big smile appeared on her face as she turned to look at you. "We are dating!"

"You fucking asshole! I knew your data was fine!" Haerin slapped your shoulder, quite strongly, as she recovered from her surprise. "I told you it'd go well!"

"Wait, Haerin knew about this?!" Hanni pointed accusingly at the catlike girl, still looking between you and Minji in shock.

"She knew I liked Minji..." You trailed off shyly as you looked between Danielle and Hyein, waiting their reaction to the new information.

The australian girl seemed to finally snap out of her shock, jumping excitedly on top of you and your girlfriend, squealing loudly. "You have to tell me everything! I can't believe it! I can't believe it! You two look so cute together!"

"What are your intentions with my unnie?" Hyein pointed at Minji, trying her best to look intimidating, but she looked toi happy to be taken seriously.

"Don't worry about her, kid. I'll take good care of Y/nnie for you." Minji laughed at Hyein, patting her head.

"What the fuck, bro!" Hanni also joined her girlfriend in the hug, pulling you and Minji's faces close to her. "Congrats, man! You finally got the girl!"

"Okay, wait." Danielle pulled back, looking at her cellphone. "We have thirty minutes before class, you have to tell us everything!"

You all laughed, beginning to walk towards the court to your usual spot, your girlfriend's arm securely wrapped around your shoulders, and you were still wearing her jacket.

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

a/n: this is honestly kind of very bad but if you read it once and then think about the scenario in your head it's kinda cute so it's okay I guess

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Rigor Mortis (part 9)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 8, Part 10

summary: You both come to a realisation.

warnings: smut! f! masturbation, grinding, humping, fingering, (implied) recreational drug use, alcohol, dubcon (-ish! reader is drunk but the interaction is consensual, tagging just in case xx), teeny tiny bit of mutual pining. 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: yuhh

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 7.2k

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

all that light lost in gaps

You're gone, in the morning.

…he should've expected it. Miguel stumbles out of sleep, groggy and disoriented. He finds himself reaching out for something in the half-light. 

He finds himself reaching for you. And when you're not there, leaving a person sized gap at the crook of his arm, his stomach churns. He pretends it's not disappointment, or the sharp crack of yearning ; settling at his chest like a crowbar, and prying open his ribs. It's worry, he decides resolutely, a perfectly normal, healthy amount of worry. As your roommate; and nothing else, he keeps reminding himself; he's just worried about where you've rushed off to, especially after yesterday. 

Senior year. He was assigned a bullshit paper in a Civics class – one he'd usually half-ass for an easy A. He'd wax poetic about morality – amorphous, vague platitudes about duty and societal expectations. By the end of the year, he had it down to a science: a couple thousand words remixed and plucked from lesser known philosophers, videos online, and overdue library books. Either he was getting too good at it, or his teacher was too stupid to notice; but regardless, he coasted through the class right up until graduation. His last paper, and he remembers it distinctly, was on the book of the same name; aptly titled What We Owe Each Other. A plodding, pluralistic read; of which he had only scanned through, anyways. Extra credit, anything to graduate early, and he'd had more than enough on his plate at the time. 

 And so, he wasn't expecting the B+ underlined and circled in red ink on the front page. It felt like his teacher had handed it back to him face down, slammed onto the desk like the thunderous crack of a whip. And he didn't need that A, strictly speaking. Yet, he had found himself staying over after class, crinkling that piece of paper in hand as he'd asked why. 

She sighs. Miss Hunter's glasses slip down her nose, as they are prone to do. 

"You're an outstanding student. I hear you're graduating early, and you're off somewhere prestigious in the fall. This is… definitely not a bad grade, and it's nothing, I promise you."

It doesn't work like that, for him. His teacher doesn't get it, but it will eat him up inside-out if he's not able to understand. 

"Was it my referencing?" He fumbles with the strap of his bag. 

"No. Not at all–" 

"I did the extra reading…the article you mentioned in class, and–" 

He's cut off by the scrape of a desk chair. Miss Hunter gets up to close the door, before settling on her desk. 

Arms crossed, she seems tired. Worried, maybe, but it doesn't register with Miguel. The thought doesn't even cross his mind, that there are others with the capacity to worry about him. 

"Technically, it's well written. As usual, Miguel." She gives him a weak smile. "It just… lacked heart."

His brows jump up. "...heart?" 

"There's not really a narrative voice, here."

He taps at the paper on the desk, frustrated. "You didn't ask for a narrative voice, though. You didn't ask for… for heart. I read the book, I did the extra reading, and I wrote a report. That was the brief."

"Not quite." She says it gently, but it still sounds like nails on a chalkboard to him. "The brief was vague, intentionally so. 'What Do We Owe Each Other? Discuss.' I gave examples, sure: excerpts from the book we touched on in class, articles, academic papers, etcetera. They were… suggestions."

"...suggestions." He's incredulous. 

She nods. "You followed it to the letter, Miguel. You gave me a summary, with a few key links. Fully referenced, yes. Well-written, yes. But this feels like a sum of parts. It doesn't tell me anything about you; your perspective, your angle. Your voice."

He's biting back choice words. It sounds like bullshit to him, for lack of a better word. Flowery, hoity-toity BS; served up to him on a steaming platter. That's it? 

Maybe it shows on his face, because she's asking, as delicately as possible, 

"Is everything okay?" 

Instinctually, he seizes up. 

"Yeah. Yes. I'm good."

"I know you don't take this class as seriously because it's not an AP, or an elective, or maybe not as challenging as you need it to be. And that's okay, Miguel. I'm happy for you to use my class as a break from all the other stuff." She swallows thickly. "You're not from our usual feeder schools. The Academy is particularly rigorous. But considering your… situation, we can make exceptions. If there's anything I can do–" 

"There isn't a 'situation'."

"Right. Of course, I'm sorry. But if you need a couple days off of school because of…" She pasues, saying the next part softly. "Because of the baby… I mean, you're already acing my class–"

"No." He says it firmly, eyes trained onto the wood grain peeking out from underneath piles of documents. He wants to ask how she knows, and how he's always the last to find out that rumours have spread, and–

"Miguel." Her voice cuts through dense fog. She repeats her previous statement. “If there's anything I can do–”

“If you want to help, you can give me that A.” It's bone dry, said with the kind of sarcasm he's grown accustomed to. He wears it over his shoulders, sometimes; draped to keep out biting cold, or unfamiliar warmth from a stranger - it all feels the same, now.

She gives him a rueful smile. “Need more than that, m'afraid.”

Heart. Voice. What We Owe Each Other – and he doesn't know why that phrase sticks in his throat. It's been drilled into him since childhood; family and community, helping each other out of the starting blocks; and beaten out of him during adolescence. The creaking and cracking of bones after each step, where out in the world it's a different matter entirely. 

His mama has bad taste in men, and he finds himself picking up the pieces. Gabi is more sensitive than he'll ever admit, trying not to cry amongst broken plates and chicken-wire hidden in a bouquet of peonies: prickly words that cut and hack, and it's Miguel that wipes the tears from his brother's cheek. That devastatingly gentle sigh when he had told his mama what he had done - how he had fallen for a soft bed and even softer lips at the ripe age of 16 and a half - and Miguel carries that weight. What We Owe Each Other – and he's only ever fed entitled egos. Not his family, of course, but he's been burned. He's had more than his fair share of it. 

He doesn't owe the world shit, he thinks. 

He doesn't owe you shit. 

It doesn't help that he's been stuck in place, grasping at cushion covers and a raggedy blanket. Trying not to drown in the heady scent of you, he's been dragging thick fingers over the fabric as if in a trance. You don't owe him anything, either. Nary an apology, an explanation; so much as a sorry spilling from pretty lips in that way where they quiver like a gentle flame. 

He's touched them, felt them drag across his skin like the finest silk, and dropped to his knees in search of something you've never given him. It doesn't matter if you don't; kiss him , that is; the swirling, desperate sort that leaves him heaving and creaking and begging for more. He thinks he'd still scuff up the denim at his knees if you asked, regardless - he'd do anything , if it was for you. 

It's not realistic to expect anything from you. You don't need to tell him where you've gone or why you've left so early. You don't need to, and yet he finds himself reaching for his phone. 

Miguel sends a well placed message; deft fingers tapping away at the screen. Before he changes his mind, it's sent; and he's chewing his lip whilst waiting for a steady three dots. Lyla is slower than usual, but she comes through. She doesn't ask questions - because she knows him better than he knows himself - and gives him a thumbs up. 

They'll call each other later, that much he's sure of, but for now he reads between the lines. Short bursts of text, like firecrackers flashing across a night sky, and only through nonsensical emojis and odd slang can they understand each other. 

This part, he can do. And he'll do whatever he needs to, not what he owes.

~~~

You make it to Pam's just after it opens. 

At 7 o'clock sharp, you've made the journey; in an empty subway car, spilling out onto the streets like treacle left in the neck of a bottle. It's not quite a squeeze, passing by only a handful of people, with nothing but a jacket thrown over last night's clothes. In a daze, you realise too late: it's Miguel's. A dusty, worn thing; brown leather crackling at the sleeves and heavy on your shoulders. It feels like a hug, and it feels like him : warm and stiff. It smells like him too, and you bury your nose in the collar on the subway, sleeves kissing your palm like his hand is in yours. 

It's a feeling that takes you all the way to the doors: past the slats bolted shut and down a familiar alley. You push past them, sneakers on slick tiles, and give a weak smile to the woman that perks up from behind the counter, kicking away the mop and bucket. 

"Hiya, welcome to Pam's! How can I–" 

"Oh, God , no." You wave her off. "Take your time. I need a minute, if that's okay."

Settling on the barstool, you watch as the young woman smiles, picking up a rag and wiping at the counter. You sit in it, for a while. 

Dregs drip in through the front. The bell at the top of the door chimes, tinny and cheerful in the relative gloom of a quiet morning. 

It's cold , outside. Autumn, biting at your fingers and nose. Eventually you opt for a coffee, piping hot to stave off that chill. Bitter, the aftertaste lingers at the back of your throat. You find yourself picking at the chipped mug, chasing away that taste with fluffy pancakes. The combination doesn't feel quite the same – not after many a morning with your roommate. 

You settle into the seat. You wrap that old jacket around you. You sip at tart coffee and pick at your nails. A quiet morning, one to yourself, one to keep hidden at the crook of your chest. Some semblance of peace , wrapped up in the spindles of a dandelion. That is to say; delicate and fleeting, whipped away by the breeze. 

You've decided not to think too hard about it. That kind of thinking ends dangerously, you've realised: with long, hot nights spent tossing and turning. It ends with a head full of cotton, and a pounding at your chest. With blood, with tears, with a stranger in your bed. And so, you go for the cleaner option. The safer one, all things considered, that's less likely to end in a broken heart. 

You float around for a while. Walking without a real destination, trying to ground yourself. Eventually, you end up home,  opening the door to an empty apartment. There's no traces left of a night spent in Miguel's arms. Good, you think, slipping your shoes off at the door. It doesn't feel good , but if you say it enough times you just might believe it. 

The cleaner option; the one with less gristle and bone; is a familiar one. You settle into a shower; steamy and soapy, taking your time to clean out the blood from under your fingernails. The grime, the dirt ; you watch it swirl into the drain, hands running across soft flesh. You try to do it like Jamie did, once upon a time. It doesn't feel right, and has you leaning onto the cool tile. The shower head sputters, a shaky pressure on your back but you lean into it and close your eyes. You rub a hand at the crook of your chest, and then down, down, down, circling your breast and then following the curve of hips to the apex of your legs. Tipping your head, letting the hot water stream through your hair and then your back; and you touch, feel , and you can almost taste him ; sweet and saccharine Miguel, at your lips. 

With two fingers flat against your clit, you rub little circles at the nub, dipping into your hole for much needed wetness. Your other hand travels up soft skin, pads of your fingers grazing collarbone, and then they curl around your neck. With a little pressure, your thumb grazes your jaw. Like he does, except your hands aren't as deliciously rough or as large. You slip a finger in, and then two, water pounding your back and eyes screwed. You push past that initial tightness, searching for a little give. When it comes, cunt clenching around your fingers, just shy of that sweet spot as you press your clit with the heel of your palm; you're imagining it's your roommate. He'd wrap those thick forearms around you, press his cock to the crest of your back and touch you like you deserve. 

You do it like Miguel would, reverent , touching you as if you were clay at a potter's wheel. In the hands of God herself, you cum; falling, falling, falling; tumbling down white water rapids and spit back up into the rushing water. You're panting, now, out of breath.

When you sink onto your bed, you realise it's not quite enough. Still in a fluffy robe, steam curls from your skin like clouds – ones that smell of cheap body wash and shampoo. Before you know it, you're reaching for your phone, sending two quick messages to a certain somebody. 

[Sent: 15:32]

hey mig

[Sent: 15:32]

where did u go? 

You don't expect a quick reply - he's never been much of a texter. But those three dots pop up in no time at all, much to your surprise. 

[Received: 15:33]

Out. 

[Received: 15:33]

Running errands. 

It's succinct and to the point – of which you expect nothing else from Miguel. Your thumbs fly to the screen to reply but another message tugs the rug out from under your shaky legs. 

[Received: 15:35]

Is everything okay? 

[Sent: 15:35]

yeah

[Sent: 15:36]

all good

When that provides no response, you're left chewing on your lip, anxious. He's seen the message, he's read the message; but for some reason, several minutes go by and there's no response. 

You're ready to give up and chalk it to your roommate's hot-and-cold nature, when your phone rings. 

Immediately, you pick up. 

" Don't believe you." His voice rings out, tinny, nestled amongst the covers. 

"Hey, Mig." You settle down on the bed, putting him on speaker and placing it by your ears. 

" Did you hear what I said?" His tone is deep and intense, making you shiver. It's not quite the same, of course, but you're reminded of nights spent with his lips tucked close the shell of your ear. 

You swallow. "Yeah. I… I did."

" You sure? Because you suck at lying."

"Don't be an asshole." 

" Think I get a free pass when you disappear for the whole day."

You roll your eyes. “You didn't call–”

“ Would you have answered?”

Ouch. He sounds frustrated, the quiet chatter of his background bathed in heavy silence. Silence thick with tension, and you almost choke on it.

He breaks it with a heavy sigh. “ You okay? ”

“No. Not really.”

“ Okay. ” He lets it sit for a while, before saying, “ I'll be home, soon. There's leftovers in the fridge, and you should eat, sweetheart. You want anything from the store? ”

His voice is so, so soft. It crackles like kindling on a fire: warmth that blooms and spreads to your chest. Like slipping off frozen gloves to thaw off in front of a heater, and he just makes you feel impossibly warm. 

“Not really, thanks.” You mumble it, and hear a satisfied grunt from the other end. Before you change your mind, you say, “Sorry. M'sorry.”

Miguel gives a light chuckle and you think you can hear him smile, the kind you always chase after a stupid argument: one that tugs at the corners of his pretty lips.

“ You've got nothin' to be sorry about .”

He gives you a moment to feel the weight of his words, and ends the call. That heat at your chest blooms. 

If Miguel O'Hara is the Sun, then maybe you don't mind being pulled into his orbit; bathing in steady light and warmth.

~~~

He comes home with flowers. A beautiful bouquet; delicate and balanced, featherlight wildflowers and brush, interspersed with sprays of blue and purple and pink. It's wonderfully dense, reminding you of the tangles of colour a child might decorate a picture with in wobbly crayon. Simply put, it's nothing short of a vision, and you notice how delicately he places it on the dining table.

With the rest of the grocery bags, Miguel clatters in, and you can't help but be curious. You're poking through the bags, sitting on the counter as he puts them away – after offering to help, of course, but he bats you away easily. Your bare legs bristle in the chill brought on by the window cracked open, and he just breezes past. 

The cabinet opens with a thud , and your roommate busies himself with putting away food. Carefully, you watch the way the muscles of his back flexes this way and that - cut and lean under that thin sweater. He’s otherwise occupied, and so you take the opportunity to stare, playing with a loose string at the hem of silky shorts. And so, it makes you jump when your phone buzzes beside you. Innocuously, you glance at the notification, and your eyes go wide.

“Who’s that?” Miguel asks, voice light. With that freaky sixth sense of his, he doesn’t need to turn around to know, it seems. 

“Lyla.” You murmur, reading the rest of the message.

“ ...And? ”

“Uh. Well…” Blinking, you can’t quite believe what she’s asking. “ Girl’s Night . I-I mean… she’s asking me to come with her for a Girl’s Night.”

“Really?” His tone is surprising, and you can hear how he beams by its lilting nature. Maybe he’s laughing at you, maybe he’s not, but you snap back regardless.

“ ... don’t act so surprised.”

“ You sound surprised.” He laughs.

“It’s different when I do it.” You say simply. “I just… I didn’t expect it. I didn’t even know we were close enough to–”

“Bullshit. You text her all the time.”

“A couple of times, Mig.” You correct him, trying to pin down a suitable response to give Lyla. You draw a blank. “I don’t want her to feel like she has to, or anything.”

He turns around, sleeves still rolled up. The look he gives makes you wither: one that could say about a million things. You think it means cut the crap , but he could just be constipated: you haven't quite mastered the art of reading Miguel O’Hara.

“Do you want to go?” He gets closer, hand flat on the counter next to your thigh. 

You nod, and his hand creeps up and up. 

Giving you a little smile, he shrugs. “Then go.”

It makes you shy. Bashful , even; and you’re wriggling as he squeezes the flesh. A hand on his forearm, and he’s close; so much so that all you can feel is the press of skin, and feel gentle breath fluttering past your cheek. You’re stuck underneath the gaze of his pretty lashes, and entranced at the way he licks his even prettier lips. A sudden thought seizes you - so heavy it makes your chest tight and leaden. 

Oh. You want to kiss him.

In a moment, it’s gone. A broad palm nudges your thigh aside, and you’re shifting so he can reach the drawers just by your legs. You oblige, falling back into familiar routine. 

Life moves on. Like Miguel said it would, and you find yourself entwined with the idea of time passing. Lying awake each night, picking out sand from underneath your fingernails, after clawing your way out of the hourglass. Steady, slow dregs; and it's tipped over each morning, restarting the clock. 

The flowers disappear from the dining table. Miguel retreats into the folds and dark corners of your apartment; you see him less and less. Passing ships in the night, you seem to miss each other by a fraction of a second. All of a sudden he's busy , and all of a sudden you're swamped with work. You only see each other at night, looking out for the bits and pieces left as proof of life: sometimes he'll leave a hot flask out for you in the mornings, and you'll greet him with a cheesy soap in the evenings. If he's not leaving later and later after work, that is. 

He looks tired, you note. Exhausted; prone to little yawns as you turn to him every now and then whilst watching on the couch. It's sweet, the way his frown has made way to a dopey smile, but it's frayed at the edges, tinged with something you can't quite place. You let him sleep that night, bringing pillows to lay his head on, and wrapping him up in that old blanket. 

Girl's night creeps up on you. It shakes you by the shoulders when you collapse on the sofa after a long day – and you're rushing to get ready. There's no Miguel to make sly remarks or prod you into action, this time. You wonder what he'd say about what you're wearing; a leftover dress buried in boxes from your ex's apartment. 

Short, tight, snug; it has you feeling glamorous – but you hope it doesn't look as fanciful as it feels. Too much; yet again, you're worried about being too much. Even though you're running a little late, you take the time to carefully apply makeup; something shiny on your lids, a dab of blush, and gloss slathered onto your lips. When you sling on little heels, and snatch a petite bag from the hooks near the door, there's barely enough time to catch that last glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Down and out you go, into a dusky night.

~~~

“I had to go through her manager– and wait, can you believe this girl has a fucking manager, now?” Lyla bats at MJ's shoulder, and the redhead laughs good-naturedly. 

“It's not– she's exaggerating! My manager's just my mom, I swear.” 

“It's a good thing, no?” You smile, taking a healthy swig of a brightly coloured cocktail. 

“It means she is booked, and–” Lyla hiccups, raising an unsteady glass that threatens to tip. MJ straightens her elbow instinctually, before raising her own. “ – very busy .”

It's your turn to laugh, glass held high in the air. With a clink , there's a clash of crystal that's all but drowned out by the chatter in the upscale bar.

Somewhere fancy, courtesy of Lyla. One of those places that serves tiny portions in big, empty plates, a fusion of cultural food with white, upper class owners. No-doubt the result of summering somewhere in the ever-broad global South , Lyla had said slyly, under the lip of a menu. 

There's powdered sugar on the rim of your flute. It dissolves on your tongue. You down the rest. Sickly sweet, and you wipe what drips onto your lips. 

It has you checking your phone. Miguel hasn't called, not that you were expecting anything. Whilst Lyla and MJ talk, you scroll mindlessly through his chat; a smattering of one word answers. Missed calls. Unanswered messages.

" –what about you, babe?" 

Your eyes snap back up to meet Lyla's, expectant. 

"Uhhh…"

"Nevermind." Sharp eyes travel to your phone, and there's a flash of recognition. "Miggy said you're in school. He said you're gonna graduate early, this year."

"He said that?" You're confused. "I mean… I'm trying but it's not looking like that, right now."

She wags a finger, shaking her head like she's trying to remember something. "No, no, he seemed adamant. Said you're working hard, doing well."

"Doing better ." You correct her, shyly. 

" Bullshit. " She says it the way Miguel does, and it makes you laugh. You see it now; he's the product of the people he loves. A kind of Frankenstein's monster, he's stitched together those bits and pieces; he's made himself beautiful. You wonder what piece of you he carries. If he even holds you that close to his chest. 

"I bet you're doing amazing. " MJ finishes. Her smile is warm, and copper-coloured; it feels hazy and ambered in your little corner. "Better than me, anyways. I would rather die than go back to college."

"Back?" You ask. 

"Oh, of course! You don't know." She giggles, leaning in like she's about to say something scandalous - the drink is clearly doing its job. Her next words are an exaggerated stage whisper. "I dropped out."

" Seriously? " You play along, with faux shock. 

"...damn right she did." Lyla gives a drunken wave to a nearby waiter, asking for another glass of wine. Something expensive, she whispers, giving a deceptive smile. 

"It just wasn't for me, I guess. I went because everyone around me was going, even Pete. Uhh, English Lit, or something. And it didn't… I–I mean it just wasn't–" 

"It didn't click."

" Right!" She snaps her fingers. "It was too much. I didn't know what I was doing, I was 18, for God's sake. Think I stuck at it for a bit too long, honestly."

"...and the world didn't explode." You breathe. 

MJ answers with a knowing nod. She chugs the rest of a crisp Mojito, raising the empty glass once more. 

"To doing better ."

You're quick to follow. "To doing better."

Lyla frowns, looking for a glass that's tucked into the corner. The room must be spinning already, with the way she pats around for it. You nudge it towards her with an elbow, and she's raucous; crumpling into a fit of giggles. 

One drink turns to two, two turns to three, and then four ; until you're ready to spill out onto the busy strip. When the waiter places a slip of paper into the centre, one with so many zeroes it makes your eyes bulge, you don't even have to pretend to reach for your wallet. Gleefully, Lyla picks up the bill, sliding a shiny Amex card onto the dish. 

She's generous, you note, as she buys a bottle of wine to go when MJ picks up her bag. She's perceptive, too. You see it when MJ wrings her hands, still tipsy and stuttering in her heels as you pile onto the street. She's making apologies already - I've got an early start and need to see my May - but Lyla intercepts. There's the gentle clink of a bottle thrust into her hands, something expensive, and she kisses the apples of her cheeks before sending her off in a taxi. 

Her own cheeks are ruddy, rosy with drink and she splits into a wide smile. The back of her hand comes up to your neck. Warm , she whispers, before linking arms with you like a schoolgirl off to do something they shouldn't. 

Eventually, with shaky legs, you end up in a nightclub. She knows someone who knows someone, apparently, and you're ushered into a packed place just off 76th. Lights and pounding music, a flurry of limbs; you let the crowd take you in. If this is what it means to be a part of a whole; some writhing, heaving beast, to be more than your hand in someone else's and theirs in yours; then you could live here forever, you think. Forever, for the night, for the next ten minutes; you blink , and time passes. 

You're having fun, you think. Letting the blood rush to your head, hips swaying to the music and you don't push away the quiet snap of a phone camera, nor it's red recording light. Dancing, singing, many seem to be pulled into orbit around you. This is how it works , pushed into an ebb and flow of people held together by broken lyrics and a thumping bassline. You let it wash over you, all-consuming, dragging yourself into murky depths. 

You're in a booth, now, anchored by a dainty hand around your wrist. Pupils blown, she cups your face to inspect you, to figure out where you've gone. Someone's bought you a drink, there's a stranger's arm around your shoulders, but Lyla pushes them both away. Too much? It's a question, of which you shake your head firmly - lolling and with a distinct lack of fine motor skills - no. Not enough. 

You blink. Bitter liquor hits your throat, and you chase the taste of somebody else's lips. A stranger, and even under the influence you know it doesn't feel right. Bile rises, and you're gone, clamping onto your stomach and trying not to hurl. 

You blink. You're on the sidewalk, with a heavy head on someone's shoulder. The strap of your heels dig into your ankles and you fumble with it, trying to stop the road from spinning. Lyla holds you up, not much more up to task than you are. 

A car pulls up, and at first you don't recognise it; entranced by shiny rims coming to a stop. You look up, still buried in Lyla's thick jacket; and you see it. You see him. 

Miguel's wearing glasses. That's the first thing you notice, stumbling to your feet. Immediately, your face cracks into a dopey smile, leaning onto the lip of the open window. He gives you a once over, swallowing thickly, brows drawn. 

Quiet chatter flys straight over your head. Lyla arguing, Miguel wagging a finger at her; but all you can see is him. It's like you've got blinkers on, tunnel vision making you focus on the curve of cheekbone, and the way his eyes scrunch up around black rims and glass. 

You clamber into the backseat.

“Get in, Ly.”

The other woman seems resolute. “ M'not –”

“Did you take something?”

“Fuck you.” Flashing a middle finger, she wraps up her coat like a robe, walking away down the road. 

He's adamant, driving up next to her. You keep your head on the glass where it's cool.

“Let me take you home. Please. ”

Frowning, she stops. When he leans over to open the passenger's side, she slips off her boots, and sidles in.

Their voices feel like a blur. You can barely register, only picking up half of the words hissed under their breath.

“... I called you, you can't give me a lecture…”

“...not fair, Lyla…. can't keep babysitting…”

“... fucking hypocrite… not the only one… I'm going through some shit…”

“...too far…. always taking it too…”

He drops her off outside of the apartment. From the backseat, you're sobering up; able to catch his heavy sigh as he watches her through the window. It's only when he sees her walk in does he turn to you, passing bottled water kept in the console.

“You want to come out to the front?”

You like the way he says it, for some reason. Any anger or frustration he had towards Lyla dissipates. He doesn't bring that into a quiet conversation with you.

He's too solemn, too serious, and so you clamber into the front over the console; limbs and legs everywhere, as obnoxiously as you can. A slight elbow to his chest, a hand clutching his shirt; you want to make him laugh. As you settle onto the seat, you see it: huffing dramatically, he gives you a small smile.

Miguel reverses back out onto the road.

You blink, and you're home. Legs still shaky, he helps you up the stairs, settling you onto the sofa. Car keys clink onto the dish by the door, and he slips off his coat – that brown one, your favourite, you think.

Fumbling with the strap of your heels, it must be too painful for him to watch as Miguel settles by your feet. His big, strong hands are surprisingly deft when he undoes the dainty buckle.

“Are you mad at me?” Meekishly, you watch and he shakes his head, not making eye-contact. Maybe it's the alcohol, but you're staring; looking for that light in his eyes amongst the dark room. 

Now, he looks up. “What?”

“M'just looking.” You say, chewing the inside of your cheek as one shoe slips off. “ I'm not allowed to look?”

The other one comes off, and he hisses when he spots a little cut where the strap dug into your ankle. He can't help it, rolling it gently in his hands, trying to ease the pain with a massage.

“You wear glasses.” You say it softly, more to yourself than to anyone else. Giggling now, you cradle his face and he sits up. “I didn't know that.”

“ That's not – I've always worn glasses. You're just not paying attention.” He shrugs lazily, but he's smiling.

“Not true , Mig. I would've noticed.”

“You're drunk–”

“When it's you, I always pay attention.” Absent-mindedly, your hand curls into his hair. He keens . “Like… your hair's getting longer.”

Gently, he shakes out of your grip, getting up. “I know, I know. I need a haircut.”

“I like it.” Starry-eyed, you look up at him. “You're so pretty, Mig.”

It makes him heave. Still tipsy, your legs spread ever so slightly, hand taking his and pulling him closer. Placing his hand on your thigh, you let it trace up, up, up, catching at the hem of your short dress.

He practically caves in, collapsing next to you on the couch. 

“You should–” His eyes are glassy as you ease yourself onto his lap. “ F-Fuck . You should go to bed, sweetheart.”

Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, you roll your hips, watching as he groans wantonly. 

“But I'm not tired.” His hand ends up on your waist, applying just the right amount of pressure. Underneath, you can feel him stir, increasingly hard under loose sweats. “And you haven't touched me in weeks. ”

You're exaggerating, but it goes to his head anyway. He buries his head into the crook of your shoulder, whispering into the bare skin.

“I know, I know…”

“Just the tip, Miguel.” You're grinding your clit onto him, pussy barely covered by a thin thong. Whispered into the shell of his ear, you're a siren, honeyed words dangerously close to breaking him down. “Just the tip, and I promise , I'll let it go. Please , baby.”

Your dress rides up, and his hands come down to palm at your ass.

“ Please…” You're pleading, lips on his neck as he squeezes, forcing you down to hump directly over his cock.

“Oh, shit.” His hips jump once, twice; and then he stills, hands at your hips and ass to stop you.

Desperate, you whine, trying to fight against it. He doesn't let up, hand cradling your chin so you can look him in the eye.

“ Bed .” He says, shakily. “Not like this.”

He slips you off, noticeably adjusting his pants. Legs spread wide, head tipped back as he sighs; he looks delicious , and you're fighting off the urge to let him take you right there and then. 

You stumble through the little hallway, pushing past some doors. Something clatters into your thigh, and you hear a dull thud as another thing falls to the floor. Frustrated, you strip down to your underwear, something light and lacy and it leaves very little to the imagination. 

There's a bed, and you collapse on it; swimming in the silky sheets. It smells like him - musky and oaky and gentle - and you think you must be dreaming already. And then, you sit up, realising too late - this isn't your room. 

Miguel wasn't too far off, hearing the thumping and clattering; hesitant as he opens the door. You're wrapped up like a present, spilling out of lingerie on his bed. He swallows, turning away to dig into his wardrobe, intending to pull out a baggy shirt for you.

“ Miguel .” You croak, but he ignores the want in your voice, so heavy it goes straight to his cock. “Miguel, please. ”

All his shirts blend together. He can't concentrate.

“Do you think I don't want it? Because I do, fuck, I need it. So bad, baby, please.” Your body heaves with a half sob. 

Heart splintering, he turns. Finally, you meet his eye. You spread your legs.

“ Here. Right here .” You tap your clothed cunt with shaky fingers, pulling your thong to the side. His eyes drink it up, the way you glisten when your cunt eats up the fabric. You know he's watching, and you take advantage of it, circling your clit with the pads of two fingers. “Like this . When I touch myself, I think of you… d-did you know that?”

Swallowing roughly, he can't take his eyes off of you.

“What… What else?” He croaks.

“I think of your tongue, a-at my pussy. And your fingers… God. ” You slip a finger in, and he watches as your cunt clenches around it; gushing and sloppy. “Your l-lips. Meant it, before. When I said you were pretty. Want to sit on that pretty face and watch you melt– oh-h- fuck- ”

He wants to lick it up, all that slick that sluices from your hole. His mouth waters, just thinking about it. 

“Put another one in, for me.” He says it low, sinking to his knees to watch you fuck yourself. 

Nodding, you oblige. 

“Does it feel good?”

“ Yes. ” You don't hesitate. 

“Can you fit another one? Want to see how good she looks when she comes, sweetheart.”

Three fingers in, now, and he slides your thong a little further aside; reaching up to press his thumb to your clit. Light streams in from blinds cracked open and highlights your thighs perfectly. Nevertheless, he adjusts his glasses to make sure he doesn't miss anything.

The twitch of your leg, the way your hand cramps up, the way your lips curl into a delicious O - he sees it all, commits it to memory.

“ Faster , please.”

“ Doesn't –” You're frustrated, clearly chasing something that refuses to surface. “Not the same. Can't fucking reach. ”

He titters, nipping at your thighs and soothing the bites with the flat of his tongue.

“Poor baby. Will you let me help?”

Fervently, you nod, slipping out your fingers as he takes off his glasses. They're discarded, too foggy to be useful right now.

“Did I tell you to take them out?” He sighs and gestures for your hand. Wrapping his lips around them he sucks them clean, humming lightly. He pats your clit with a wet slap, content. “Put two fingers in, sweetheart.”

Doing as he says, your head feels full - cotton wool and bubble wrap, only able to focus on the pleasure building behind your clit. And when he slots two fingers in next to yours , it rips out a gravelly moan. 

“ Here? ” He says dragging himself deeper, curling his fingers up. “Or is it… here? ”

You groan, limp against his hand as you feel impossibly full. It reminds you of the stretch of his cock; creaming around the base of his two fingers and yours. That wonderful curl as he pumps himself in and out, cupping your hand in the process to make sure you match his pace. He can feel your walls spasm around him, impossibly soft and velveteen. 

“Can't say no to you,” His eyes are low, grunting as he palms himself roughly. “Even though… fuck … even though I should.”

It's wet, the slap slap slap of skin against skin echoing in his room. Miguel sits up, pressing his lips to your neck, and you take the opportunity to slip your other hand into his sweats. You start pumping, in time with his ministrations, eyes blown as you swipe your thumb over his weeping slit.

You know he likes it rough, and you jerk him into your palm; fast and hard and you watch as he matches your pace. Even now, you're competing, trying to catch the him up; to see who can make the other cum first. 

You push back on his fingers, hips slotting against his, whispering nonsense into his neck. You're too fucked out to care; confessions you never thought would see the light of day. All the little things you like about him, things he says, things he does; and you don't even register the ochred flush smattered along the ridge of cheekbone.

He spills into your hand, and you're quick to follow; cumming around him as his fingers stutter in and out. It feels good , dangerously so, and has you pressing shaky kisses around his mouth, and nipping at his bottom lip.

He stills, but you're greedy, aching for more. You want him in you; seating his thick cock deep inside, painting your walls with hot cum, and pushing it back in with deft fingers. Every part of you is on fire, barely satiated by your heated foray.

You tip back onto the bed, and he joins you; caging you in with thick forearms, looking at you like you've stolen all the stars in the sky. That feeling , again, slams into your chest like a bullet. Messy hair, ruddy cheeks, hand gently tracing your jaw; he looks gone, and oh so soft. You want to kiss him ; and it's a thought that sticks, embedding itself somewhere you can't reach to dig it out.

“ Miguel .” You whisper, enough alcohol at the edges of your mind to stop thinking and spill your guts to him, unfiltered. “Are you sleeping with someone else?”

His eyes flit over your face before answering and he shakes his head. 

“No. No. Just you. Only you.” 

“ Don't believe you .” But you want to. So, so desperately. “Promise me?”

“I promise, sweetheart.” He swallows. “Are you?”

“No. Don't think I could if I tried.” It comes out watery, stuck at the back of your throat.

He just looks, for a moment, cradling the back of your head. 

“I want to kiss you.” It spills out from your lips.

“I know.” 

“Then why won't you kiss me?”

“Not a good idea.” He strains, kissing your forehead, and then each cheek. Hesitating, he places a gentle peck to your chin. “Ask me tomorrow.”

He says it simply, too easily; and it makes you want to sob. When Miguel slips away, and you hear the sound of a light turned on in the bathroom, you can't move. Catatonic; you blink, and he's cleaned you up, and slipped a shirt over your shoulders. Laying back in his bed, you watch as he lingers by the doorway, shrouded in shadow. 

Goodnight. Y ou think you say it out loud, but it echoes in your head. 

He says back, but not really. Instead, he leaves that goodnight hanging by the doorway like an old coat, and you wrap it over your shoulders. 

It keeps you a little warmer through the night.

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