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redocity · 11 days

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Buck as the eternal playboy but folding the second the reader hits on him back? Maybe corner him against a wall for funsies >:)

THE LONG GAME — E.BUCKLEY

flirting between friends was always fun, but sometimes it borders something that is definitely not platonic, and once that line is crossed, buck’s not sure he wants to go back to what you had before.

WARNINGS: 16+ for suggestiveness, alcohol, lots of flirting, chimney being a cockblock rip, buck is so sexually frustrated rip

evan buckley x gn!reader || ???? || 3.1k || requests open!

a/n: not me giggling over my own writing, how sad is that-

₊ ⊹ masterlist!!

Arguably the best part about your job was being able to celebrate a job well done.

That feeling of accomplishment after getting through a really tough call with nothing but a positive outcome.

The team never went half-assed on the celebrations, and you’re sure that the bar you all frequent post-shift knows you all by name by now from how often you all abandon your nights to spend an extra few hours in each other’s company.

That was another thing you loved about your job. The team. Your family.

You could spend 24 straight hours with them and they’d still make an excuse to spend a few more with everyone.

Today was no different. You rolled up to the bar in a tight-circle, eerily resembling the professional attitude you had to display during your work hours, one not yet shed considering it’d only been three-quarters of an hour since your shift ended.

You knew it wouldn’t last long, you’d all be too drunk to care about professionalism soon enough. Well except Bobby anyway.

You barely had time to walk through the front doors before Buck was running up to the bar to order everyone a round of drinks, a confident smirk etched on his face that only grew as the local news recounted the story of one of they day’s earlier calls with civilian footage.

“I wonder who that is,” He nudges your side as you walk over, cockiness washing all over his face as he nods up towards the TV hanging up by the ceiling. “They look pretty badass,”

You give him an almost dismissive hum as you pick up one of the glasses from the cluster to take a sip of the craft beer filling it. “I wonder,”

“Oh come on, you’re all over the news,” He gives you another small nudge. “You’re practically famous right now,”

He leans in towards you to talk over the music, reaching over to grab a pint glass of his own and clinking it animatedly against yours before taking a swig from it.

“He’s right you know,” Hen gives you nudge herself, joined by an enthusiastic thumbs up from Chimney behind her. “Own it,”

“Right? you pulled a whole superhero move,” Buck motions up towards the news broadcast again, where they are still replaying a clip of you kicking through a pane of reinforced glass on a high-rise from on top of the roof as an alternative method of entry to the collapsed stairwell on the inside.

“Sounds like you’re projecting Buckley, jealous?” You raise your eyebrow with an air of amusement as you take another swig from your glass.

“Absolutely not, in fact, I’m the opposite of jealous right now,” He leans in towards you again so that your shoulders brush together. “It was hot,”

“Okay horndog,” You roll your eyes at his comment, pushing away his face with the palm of your hand pressed to his forehead. “Keep it in your pants will you?”

He does nothing but laugh at the way you scold him, allowing you your personal space as he sits up straight once more.

Buck’s ability to flirt his way through any situation was honestly mildly impressive, how he managed to twist any situation into having a sensual undertone no matter what it was.

Last week it was Eddie carrying a sandbag into the station gym. The week before that it was the fact that Hen had cut a slice of lasagna for him instead of him doing it himself.

And apparently this week’s target was you. For jumping off a roof and shattering a glass window with your feet.

You’d question his taste if you didn’t know he was joking.

Although as the night went on and the table became increasingly cluttered with empty glasses, you started to question whether it was actually a joke.

Whether it was some quirk of his personality, or something more serious.

They say that drunk words are sober thoughts right? And Buck was definitely drunk and definitely spouting some choice words right now.

He whistles as you pot one of the striped balls on the pool table, his competitiveness all but disappeared underneath the haze that his alcohol consumption had laid over his brain. “Skilled with your feet and your hands? You’re just about every guy’s dream,”

He leans across the pool table to aim his shot, pool cue horribly aimed to the point where the cue ball barely skims the solid red ball he was aiming for. “Probably every girl’s dream too actually,”

“Instead of trying to kiss my ass, maybe you should focus on actually playing the game,” You genuinely can’t tell by this point whether his poor skills were an effect of the alcohol running through his system or if he was doing it on purpose just to get under your skin.

If there was one thing you did, it was play fair, and that included not letting your opponent give you an easy win.

“Oh how I would love to kiss that ass,” He makes an exaggerated show of leaning backwards to get a clear view, giving you another short whistle as you lean over the table to line up your next shot.

“Win the game and maybe i’ll let you,”

You swear you can see the moment his mind fractures, enunciated by another striped ball falling into one of the pockets and you lining up another shot.

He’s like a robot doing a hard reset, his eyes staring blankly at you like he physically cannot comprehend that you’d actually say something like that.

You don’t make your next shot, though whether by distraction from Buck’s eyes on the side of your face or your own drunken mistake you’re not entirely sure. Either way, when you straighten up to stand again, Buck hasn’t moved an inch.

“Go on, your turn,” You tap the side of his arm with your pool cue, amusement washing over your features as you watch him physically jolt from the contact and shake his head as if to physically shake off what you’d said to him.

Who knew such a casanova would get so flustered when someone played along with his little flirting game.

He ended up losing of course, you were far too much ahead for him to have a chance of catching up before you potted the eight ball and took the game, and you could swear there was a trace of disappointment in his eyes, and not because of the four solid colour balls still left on the table.

He didn’t even glance at them.

No, instead he kept his eyes firmly locked on you as you gloated your win.

“Now that is something to celebrate,” You lay your cue on the table with a victorious smirk. “Better luck next time I suppose,”

Your cockiness continues to flourish as you pot the remaining balls into the pockets and take Buck’s pool cue from him to lay it next to yours. “So what’s my reward then?”

”I- What?” He blinks at you a few times, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as his mind tries to catch up to the conversation.

“Well we laid out what would happen if you won, so what do I get for actually winning?” You tilt your head to the side as you take a step towards him, arms crossed over your chest with your eyebrow raised. “Surely I deserve to be rewarded, no?”

“I can uh…I can buy you a drink…” Buck pursed his lips together, dry swallowing as he leant backwards against the pool table upon your approach. He honestly didn’t know what was coming over him. Why was he so ruffled under the collar about this?

This was his prime domain, so why was it the second that you mirrored his interest he shut down and started backtracking on himself like a highschooler?

“I think we’ve had enough drinks don’t you?” You take another step forward as he sits on the edge of the table, essentially boxing him in despite there being very easy escape points at both his right and his left. “Besides, I want to be sober enough to remember this tomorrow,”

What on earth did you mean by that?

God he felt pathetic right now, a 6’2, 220lbs man being boxed in against a pool table of all things by one of his extremely attractive coworkers because you’d had a sudden streak of confidence and decided to flip his advances back on himself.

“Uh…” He gives a small, half awkward chuckle as his eyes flicker to consciously remain focused on your own eyes and not fall downwards. He knew the uniforms were tight but god did he not notice how tight they were until he was having to physically restrain himself from looking further down. “Right well- uh- what do you want then..?”

Buck watched as your eyes left his to flicker downwards, not so far down that you were staring at his chest, but just far down enough that he could tell you had your attention on a part of his face that was not his eyes.

He’d blame the bright red of his cheeks on the drinks if you asked about it, but you seem far too enamoured by the way he nervously purses and bites his lips under your gaze to even so much as glance at anything else.

“You know what I want..?” You break your staring to meet his eyes again, although you still make the time to turn your eyes down to his mouth again during the breaks between words.

He swears you’re leaning in with every word, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t leaning in himself, a sharp, stuttered breath escaping his lips as you get close enough so your breath fans across his cheeks. “I think so…”

You give a small hum at his answer, lips quirking into a smile as you narrow your gaze and tilt your head slightly to the left so that your noses don’t bump together as you bring your faces within an inch of each other.

His lips part on instinct, breathing a whisper of air into your mouth as he anticipates the contact with closed eyes.

“I want you to stop drinking my orange juice,”

The tension in his shoulders seems to drop at your statement, and his eyes shoot back open as you pull yourself back to stand fully upright, absolute delight drenching your features as you read the waves of shock and dissatisfaction that roll over him at the sudden change in atmosphere. “What?-”

He was so close. So close to having your lips on his. And you ripped it away from him with that stupidly hot smirk on your face like you knew exactly what you were doing.

You definitely knew what you were doing.

“In the station, I know it’s you,” You explain yourself like it’s no big deal, like you weren’t centimetres from giving Buck what he’d been pining for for so goddamn long a few seconds ago. “Buy your own juice,”

“I- Seriously?” Exasperation practically drowns his voice as he speaks, and he narrows his gaze with an air of desperation that makes you want to give him exactly what he wants. “You pretend you’re going to kiss me and then tell me not to drink your goddamn orange juice? Not cool man,”

“Maybe you shoulda won the game, I don’t know what to tell you,” You shrug your shoulders with an air of nonchalance that only you would be able to muster in a situation like this, and it frustrates Buck beyond all belief.

“That’s not fair,” Buck shakes his head as he stands. “I didn’t know you were being serious,”

“Well that’s just too bad isn’t it?” You clasp your hands together with a tilt of your head.

“No, we’re not just gonna move on okay?” It’s Buck’s turn to approach you now, his hands emphasising his words as he waves them in front of himself. “I have waited so long for you to suggest you were interested in me you cannot just back out like nothing happened,”

You swerve his approach with a laugh to walk around the side of the pool table, like his frustration is the funniest thing in the world to you and not literally tearing him apart with every moment you try to brush off the lingering tension between you. “You are way too pent up about this,”

“I am the exact right amount of pent up about this,” He follows you around the table to box you in as you did him, except this time there’s really no escape as he plants his hands firmly against the edge of the table on either side of you. “You can’t just lean in like you’re going to kiss me and bail right at the last second,”

“I thought you liked the long game,” You cross your arms over your chest as a deflection from the way your heart rate quickens, trying to cover the increase in how fast your chest rises and falls under the gaze he’s trapped you in.

“I’ve played long enough,” He leans his weight on his arms, bringing his face towards yours slowly. “I need to know if I’ve won,”

“I’d say so,” Your eyes are much less confident now the roles have been reversed, struggling to maintain contact with his as his face continues its steady path towards your own.

“Prove it.” You’re close enough now that you can feel the breath from every word he speaks on your skin, and his intentions are laid out very clearly as his gaze falls from your eyes to your lips.

He is going to kiss you if you don’t do anything to stop him.

He wants to taste the mix of alcohol on salt on your lips, explore the inside of your mouth with his tongue. He wants to feel the heat of your palms against his cheeks as you cup his face to stop him from pulling away and make you kiss him until neither of you can breathe.

He’s waited long enough to have you like this, and after your previous stunt, he’s not sure he can physically last much longer before he explodes from the frustration.

The way his hands slide from resting on the table either side of you to holding your hips solidifies that point tenfold.

He gives your waist a soft tug until your torso collides with his, and you have to brace your hands against his shoulders to stop yourself from losing your balance and stumbling right into him.

And then he’s leaning in again, his eyes flickering over your expression to look for any trace of hesitance or uncertainty in your features before he makes the final move.

And then there’s a shot glass between your faces.

“Shots?”

Chimney, ever horrible at reading the room —probably because he’s so drunk he can barely stand upright anymore— holds up two shots towards the two of you, one in each hand. “They’re on me~” He adds that extra part at the end as the true selling point, and it takes all of Buck’s self-restraint to not knock the glasses out out Chimney’s hand to make him leave the two of you alone.

You don’t seem so agitated.

“Why thank you,” You break from Buck’s grasp to take one of the shots from Chimney’s hand, raising it in Buck’s direction. “Here’s to playing the long game,”

You down the shot quickly, leaving the empty glass on the edge of the pool table to rejoin the group at the bar, leaving Buck alone and so goddamn sexually frustrated he genuinely thinks he might pass out from the strain.

You know exactly what you’re doing by dragging this out, and he has half the mind to prove your idea of ‘safety’ from his advances in the group wrong by sending his conscience to hell and giving in to his inhibitions in front of everyone.

But he’s not quite drunk enough to push it that far. Even if most of the team wouldn’t remember it if he did.

“So that’s a no on the shot?” Chimney raises the remaining shot glass in Buck’s direction, seemingly completely oblivious to the colossal cockblock he’d just imposed.

“If you weren’t so drunk right now I would punch you I swear-” Buck huffs as he all but snatches the glass from Chimney’s hand and downs the shot in exasperation, the sharp burn in his throat doing nothing to distract him from the ache in his chest from having a possible moment from you ripped from underneath his nose again in the span of less than ten minutes.

“Woah, what did I do?” Chimney furrows his eyebrows in offence at Buck’s statement. “We’re supposed to be family man, last time I buy you anything,” He scoffs in indignation as he leaves Buck to join the rest of the group once more, clearly unhappy with Buck’s reception to his ‘gift’ of a free shot.

A free shot and a missed shot at finally making a move on you.

He knew that come your next shift you’d ignore everything that had happened tonight, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to go back to the silent glances and subtle gestures. He wanted all of you, not just some aimless flirting that never went anywhere.

At least he had confirmation that you were in fact interested in him, that was a step forward in the right direction he supposes.

But god was the long game starting to get on his nerves.

#9 1 1 #9 1 1 fanfiction #buck x reader #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley fluff #oliver stark #asks 🚒#redocity 🧯

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andrewminyardapologist · 10 months

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TW: Food Trauma

Thinking about how it's probably really healing for the Foxes to have "family dinners" at Abby's because so of them most likely have some sort of trauma surrounding food.

Dan: Had to support her family, struggling to put food on the table, having to work to keep herself and her family fed. So much food insecurity that she doesn't have to worry about anymore. (I'm sure she still does, it doesn't just go away, but she now doesn't have to worry about making enough to afford her next meal.)

Allison: In recovery from an eating disorder, learning to have genuinely happy experiences revolving around meals, praised for her strength on the court and not just her beauty, learning that food is nourishment.

Neil: I mean... This one is obvious. He's been on the run close to a decade, and now has sit down meals regularly with people he cares about. Food doesn't just mean stuff you can steal from a grocery store or scrounge up at a gas station vending machine. It's part of home. It's Abby's kitchen, warm and bright, surrounded by his chosen family all helping to cook and set the table. It's smiling and laughing over a big plate of lasagna.

Kevin: He's obsessed with health to the point it's disordered. In the Nest, food was not about enjoyment. It was about being perfect. Everything he ate was chosen for him. At Abby's, he gets to pick his portion size, which foods he wants to eat, probably learns what he likes and dislikes genuinely because of taste and not nutritional content. I would bet eventually Abby catches on and makes his favorites pretty often, helps him try new foods and actually enjoy them, regardless of nutritional content.

Andrew: Andrew grew up in foster care, and he says none of his placements were good. He seems to have a lot of sensory issues surrounding food (rips it into tiny pieces, likes really intense flavors like spicy or sweet, etc.) I'm willing to bet he was often underfed and did not often get much say in what he ate. If he wanted to eat, it would have to be whatever he could. I think that while he might never admit it, having Abby's dinners (eventually) start to feel safe for him, the routine of it, the fact that no one would judge his eating there or force him to eat things he didn't like, would be something that helps him feel more comfortable around food. I think being allowed seconds, or thirds, would help him feel some security surrounding food. Similar to Kevin, I think Abby would pick up on the things he likes and make those meals more often. I think Bee helps with this too, what with the hot chocolate and everything.

Aaron: Tilda was abusive and neglectful. I think it is safe to assume Aaron had to worry about keeping himself fed for most of his life, and had to learn to cook for himself. Probably he had to figure out his own way to make sure he stayed fed without much help from Tilda. It's probable she punished him by withholding meals as well. I think similar to Andrew, having some consistency in the routine of dinner at Abby's helps him feel more secure. Additionally, I think he probably likes not having to bear the full weight of cooking for himself, and learns to enjoy it as something he does with his family instead of something done out of necessity. I imagine Abby teaches him some recipes that are fun and not just basic stuff thrown together in an attempt to make something edible.

Nicky: Nicky was 18 when he took in the twins. He had to work HARD to keep the three of them fed. It was probably difficult as well considering Andrew and Aaron already had issues surrounding food. I think he would find comfort in seeing that the twins were not only getting fed, but we're starting to let go of some of that insecurity about food. I think he would also find relief in not having to worry about feeding two kids when he was basically still a kid himself.

#aftg #all for the game #neil josten #andrew minyard #aftg andrew #aftg fandom #aftg neil #the foxhole court #the kings men #the raven king #food mention #nicky hemmick #dan wilds #aaron minyard #kevin day #abby winfield #aftg allison

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 3 months

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What Have I Done… ~Broken!Casey Novak xFem Wife!Reader

Summary— Occurs at the end of season 9/beginning of season 10. When Casey gets in trouble with Liz for committing a Brady violation, she goes home after a long day to Reader. Reader comforts Casey.

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: angst, fluff, crying, implied exhaustion, light alcohol consumption, unhappy endings, etc.

Enjoy (;

Liz had given you a call earlier today and given you a heads up of what had gone down today.

You were anxious, biting your lip and nails, and fidgeting like crazy as you waited for Casey to come home. Finally, the door to your shared apartment opened. It creaked open, Casey entered the hallway, and then it creaked shut.

You were in the kitchen, already lightly nursing a glass of wine, standing behind the kitchen island, resting on the island for stability.

Hell, after what Liz has told you, you were sure you would both need the alcohol tonight…

Casey finally came into the kitchen, blazer and shoes still on and case in hand. He stopped at the entrance of the kitchen, froze right on spot.

“Hey Baby…” you gently spoke, as you came around the island, placing the glass down, and coming up to the redhead.

You placed your hands on her side and cheek, while Casey stood frozen still.

“H-hi…” she breathed out.

You looked into her eyes, they were filled with pain and agony. It broke your heart. You pulled your forehead against hers. Casey sighed a little in relief at your direct touch

“Case…” you whispered, “Liz called”

At your words, Casey pulled her head up and stepped back lightly. Suddenly, her briefcase slipped from her fingers and the contents scattered on the ground.

Her eyes began to a swell and her lips began to tremble.

“W-what…?” Casey choked out.

Your heart was being ripped to shreds now. You hated seeing the love of your life in this much pain.

“I talked to Liz. She told me… what happened, about you and the bar…” you softly spoke.

You saw the lump in her throat as Casey swallowed, and as she tried to suppress her tears.

“I’m— I’m a failure” Casey choked out, before she began uncontrollably sobbing.

You were quick to pull her into your embrace, cradling her form with all the love you could muster. Casey immediately melted into your touch, wrapping her hands around you. She instinctively buried her face in the crook of your neck.

“No no no, baby… you’re not a failure.” You whispered, comforting the woman.

“Y-yes I am…!” Casey croaked, in between sobs.

Tears were streaming down the redheads face and onto your shoulder and neck. But you didn’t mind.

“No Case…” you sighed, “You made a mistake… everyone does… and the committee will see that.” You whispered.

You got more uncontrollable sobs in response. You rubbed and caressed Casey in every place you could reach, and you could feel Casey starting to slowly calm, as you let her get it out.

“That’s it. good girl. Get it all out…” you comforted her gently, “How about a bath, hmmm baby…?”

Casey sniffled and nodded slowly into your shoulder. You smiled lightly and nodded, slowly and gently leading Case to your shared bathroom.

You turned the water on.

Then you slowly got her undressed, as well as yourself. Casey wasn’t sobbing uncontrollably anymore, but tears were still rolling off her cheeks and she was still sniffling. You lent her a hand to get into the half-filled tub, joining her promptly after.

Casey was quick to snuggle up to your naked frame, starting to cry again into your chest this time. You played with her hair lightly, gently reassuring her that it was going to be okay and that she was doing good.

Eventually, Casey’s sounds had faded and she started pawing at you.

“Hmmmm Case, what’s up…? Use your words for me, sweet girl…” you coaxed the redhead.

Casey blushed a little.

“Mm hungry…” she murmured.

“Makes sense. Good thing I made lasagna.” You hummed and nodded.

At this, Casey perked up. For a moment, her eyes weren’t dismal, they were hope-filled. But they soon returned to their saddened state.

You then helped Case out of the tub, and handed her a towel to dry off. You both got dressed in your pjs, before heading to the kitchen. You both sat down and you served the food.

Afterwards, you carried a now tired and cried out Casey to your shared bedroom. She immediately snuggled up as the little spoon in bed with you.

“Get some sleep, Case, that’s it… It’s all gonna be okay… we’ll fight this together… but not today. Tomorrow…” you softly spoke.

“Mhmmm… thank you, baby…” Casey murmured, “Don’t know how I got so lucky to be with you…”

“You? I’m the one who’s lucky… luckiest wife alive.” You chuckled.

And before you knew it, she was dozing off, with those little snores you always found so adorable…

~~~

Casey Novak Masterlist

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sissylittlefeather · 1 month

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Role Play: Epilogue

A/N: I ended this series before I could write my favorite role play idea. Solution? EPILOGUE. Y'all know I love a good epilogue. Anyway, enjoy this fluffy, smutty, pure-fun romp!

(@ccab this one is for you 😉)

Need to catch up? Here's the Masterlist.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, cussing, kissing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

Word count: ~1.5k

In the spring of 1972, a year after Elvis declared his love for you in the rain, he asks you to move into Graceland. Priscilla moved out earlier that year after she realized you weren't a fling that was going away any time soon. He hated that she took Lisa Marie, but otherwise he didn't mind her moving out. He was ready to take your relationship to the next level anyway. You'd been spending as much time together as possible, so him moving you into his house just made sense.

On your first night there together, he puts you to work in his kitchen again. You're happy to roll your sleeves up and give him directions. This time you make a lasagna and manage to keep your hands off each other long enough to get it into the oven. But when he puts you on the counter, rips your panties off, and drops his face between your thighs, you decide that moving in is the best decision you've ever made.

He pushes his tongue into your slit and you throw your head back and run your fingers in his hair. He licks up either side of your clit and then drags his tongue across it hard.

"Mmm fuck yes, Elvis." You hiss as he continues working his mouth on you. He slides two fingers into you and pumps them in and out as moves his tongue on your clit. He can feel your walls flutter as your orgasm approaches and he pulls back and whispers.

"Let go, baby. Cum for me like you always do." You whimper and he goes back to licking you as your orgasm rushes through your veins like starlight. You tighten your grip on his hair and he moans into you. Finally, you come down from your high and he pulls back, wiping his mouth with his hand. He stands up, shaking his hair from where you had your hands in it. You go for his belt just as the timer for the lasagna goes off.

"Mmmm noooo..." He whines, pulling you in close to him and kissing you deeply.

"Babe, I have to get the lasagna out." You moan as he kisses down your neck, nipping at you gently. He squeezes your hips and then backs up. You hop off the counter and run your hand up his hard dick, tucking it under his belt for him. He groans and kisses the top of your head.

"I'll get mine after dinner. I have a role play idea for us anyway."

"Ooh, I'm intrigued."

"You should be." You grab some oven mitts and pull the lasagna out as he grabs a couple of plates for you.

******

After dinner, you make your way to the TV room, and he runs upstairs for a bit. When he comes back down, he plops onto the couch and pulls your feet into his lap. He rubs them casually as something plays on all three screens.

"That feels good." You lean your head back and he smiles.

"Would you like me to keep going?"

"What do you mean?"

"Here. Come with me." He stands you up and guides you up the stairs to the bedroom that you now share. He takes you in the bathroom where he has set up the bathtub with candles and rose petals.

"Is this what you were doing?"

"It is. Do you like it?"

"I love it!" He undresses you and helps you into the tub. Once you're settled, he disappears and comes back with a glass of champagne.

"Now, you just relax here, honey, and I'll get everything else ready."

"There's more?"

"I told you it's a role play." He winks and walks out of the bathroom.

You lay in the tub with your glass of champagne for about twenty minutes before he comes back wearing a robe. His excitement is palpable and you can tell he's been planning this for a while.

"Ma'am, your massage is ready whenever you are."

"My massage?"

"Yes ma'am. I'll be your masseur this evening." You smile and stand up out of the tub. He turns around nervously, like he's never seen you naked before. "Oh! The towels are over to your left. I'll just... I'll go back in there and wait for you to get ready."

"Elvis!" You laugh and he clears his throat.

"Ma'am, I'm just a humble massage boy. I-I-I'll be in there." Then, he walks out of the room. He's committed, you have to give him that.

When you get into the room, he's got the bed turned down for you to lay on and soft music playing in the background. You notice a bottle of massage oil on the nightstand.

"Just lay down on the bed and I'll get started, ma'am." You unwrap the towel you had around you and lay face down on the bed.

"Okay, I'm ready." He walks up behind you. "But I have a request."

"Yes ma'am?"

"I need you to take that robe off."

"That seems a little unprofessional..." You look at him slyly.

"I promise I'll give you a good tip. Now, robe off." He tries to suppress a smile as he takes the robe off, leaving him as naked as you are. He looks down at you on the bed, your body beautiful in front of him. For a second, he considers abandoning the role play and jumping on top of you, but he doesn't. Instead, he gathers some massage oil and begins to run his hands along your back. You groan at the sensation of his strong hands on you, wondering how long you'll both be able to stand being naked and so close together.

His touch is firm but gentle as he massages your back, moving his hands a little lower with each pass. Eventually, he's just rubbing his hands on your ass sensually and you feel his erection where it rests on your thigh. Your center is absolutely dripping with his proximity and the feeling of his hands on you. You long to feel some part of him inside you. Seemingly reading your mind, he moves his hands lower and begins to massage your thighs, running his hands up the inside of them, teasing your clit with his fingertips as he goes. You whimper a little and spread your legs open. Finally, after what feels like an excruciating amount of time, he runs one hand up your thigh and slides a finger into you. Between the massage oil and your wetness, his finger glides easily in and out. He adds a second finger and you notice he only has one hand on you. You look back over your shoulder and realize he's stroking himself as he fingers you, the massage oil making it easy for him to move his hand back and forth.

"And you said I was asking you to be unprofessional."

"Mmm, sorry, ma'am, you're just such a beautiful woman." He whispers as he continues to pump his cock and finger fuck you.

"You don't need to apologize. Just come over and finish what you've started. And I don't mean the massage." You smirk at him over your shoulder and he pulls his fingers out of you. He climbs onto you and lines the tip of his dick up with your entrance. As he pushes into you, you both groan. He kisses your shoulder and leans his forehead against your back.

"Fuck, honey, that's so good."

He begins to pump in and out of you, fucking you deeply with long strokes. He grabs the back of your hair and pulls so that he can kiss your cheek over your shoulder. Then, he pushes up and grabs the headboard with one hand and your hip with the other, driving into you passionately from behind. You whimper with each thrust, the pleasure almost overwhelming you.

After another few minutes of pounding you in this position, he pulls out and rolls over on his back. You climb on top of him, a knee on either side of his hips, and sink down onto his dick.

"God, I love your pussy." He moans as you begin to roll your hips into him, pushing him deeper and deeper.

"Mmm I love your cock." You moan in reply. Then, he grabs the side of your face and pulls you down to him, kissing you emphatically.

"I love you." He whispers when he pulls back from the kiss.

"I love you, too." He kisses you again and then wraps his other arm around you, slamming into from underneath. His hips meet yours over and over as he thrusts until you both tumble headfirst into waves of pleasure while you pulse and flutter around him and he shudders and pumps a few more times weakly.

When your combined orgasm fades, you roll off of him and lay next to him, sweating and panting. He grabs your fingers and brings them to his lips.

"I'm so glad you're here." He turns his head to look at you. You meet his eyes and smile.

"Me too."

"Welcome home, baby." He turns and wraps himself around you, kissing your cheek. "I'm so glad I met you."

You sniff a little and hold back the tears. How did you get here? You don't know, and frankly you don't care. You belong in his arms and you intend to stay here as long as he'll let you.

******

The End

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

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @deltafalax

#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis smut #elvis presley fic #elvis #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis presley x y/n #elvis fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis presley x you #elvis presley smut #elvis presley fanfic

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faeridollz · 1 month

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Soap fucking you silly on the couch!!

Warnings; p in v, unprotected sex, breeding, implied baby trapping, Virgin!reader, fingering, non/dub con?, NOT proofread, barely any readers prep. MDNI

Summary; Getting caught up in CBF!soap’s trap. But you don’t mind right? You’d never leave him anyway and even if you tried he’d kidnap you and lock you away forever

You smile as you rush to the door, you open it and cling to him. “How ya been Bonnie?” He smiled, hugging you tightly with his hands on your hips. “I’m alright! How is your deployment so far Johnny?” Pulling away and leading him deeper into your parent’s house. The smell of lasagna flowing throughout the large house. “It’s good. even better tha’ I’m here right? Where’s ya parents at?” He questioned, following you as you lead him into the living room.

“Just getting a few more things for dinner. I think dessert or something? But they have to go all the way into town so I don’t expect them to be back so soon..” you mutter, sitting next to him. “Wha’ should we watch bonnie?” He grabs the remote, turning on the tv. “Maybe… a romance movie?” You hum. And before you know it you’re falling asleep on his lap, snoring softly as he continues watching the movie. Occasionally snapping photos for his memory jerking off or other things. But when a sex scene flashes on the tv he can’t help but get a bit aroused, gripping your plush thighs a bit tighter.

Softly grinding his hips up into your cunt, listening to your sleepy and quiet moans. It only makes his cock throb harder through his pants when he realizes that your skirt is riding up and revealing the wet spot on your panties. “F-Fuck lass.. need ya pret’y lil’ cunt..” he grunts, leaning into you and causing you to stir. He almost cums right then and there when he see’s the flash of confusion and fear in your eyes when you wake up. “J-Johnny?! W-What are you-“ you panic, but he interrupts you by covering your mouth and fucking up into you even faster. Flipping you onto your back and practically ripping your panties off, rubbing your sopping clit pussy with his thumb.

“Shh lass, ya’ gonna like it.. ya’ wanna make me happy ri’?” He unzips his pants, releasing his fat cock. “J-Johnny that’s t’big!” You squirm as he presses his fingers into your hole. “I know lass, I know..” He kisses the crook of your neck, feeling the rumble of your throat as you whine. His fingers gently sliding in. “Ya’ so tight lass..” He chuckles, stretching you out with his thick fingers. “Maybe I should’ve got ya drunken up before hm.?” He starts to kiss your neck, your whines echoing through the room as he fingers you pretty pussy a bit faster. Curling his fingers inside to reach your G-spot. “J-Johnny!~” You moan, your hips stuttering. If it was up to soap he’d drag you back to base with him and use you as his personal flesh light. Not that he doesn’t already have a sex doll that looks exactly like you at his house (he can’t bring it on base) wasn’t there an open spot for a new filer needed on base? “Tha’s it lass.~ cum f’me my pretty gal.” He kisses your plush lips, sliding his tongue in.

As soon as you cummed on his fingers he pulled them out and replaced them with the tip of his reddened cock. “C’mon lass, relax so I can fit my cock in ya” he smiled, one hand on your hip with the other hooked under your knee. Slipping his fat cock into your tight cunt and drawing loud moans from you. “C’mon lass, that’s it, biiiig stretch dove.” His words don’t help, causing you to clamp down on him. “T-T’big! I-I’m gonna rip!” You whine, tearing up from both pain and need. Gasping as he slammed into you, shrieking. “Can’t love. I need ya understood?” He lets out a breathy moan, repeatedly pulling out until its just the tip and slamming right back into your cervix. He was huge and not giving you time to adjust, just slamming into your gummy walls with no regard.

When he fills you up to the brim with his cum, even after begging for him to pull out, he babbles on and on. “Gonna make ya’ a momma lass..” he moans into your ear, hips stuttering and sweat layering on his and your skin.

#soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #cod smut #p in v sex #pervy!soap #faeridollzthots #faeridollz #bigD!soap

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singulxarity · 3 months

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Jegulus microfic - Day 31 - prompt - 'lock' @jegulus-microfic

Word count : 256

Regulus stiffens as his eyes lock with James' in the great hall. Apparently, years of training and lessons on how to maintain a cool demeanor have decided to exit his body without a backward glance.

He feels his face heat up and quickly looks down at his half finished meal. Focus on the lasagna, he tells himself, making intense eye contact with the desiccated food.

He waits for a few long minutes, moving the food around his plate, when he decides to look up again.

Shit.

Their eyes lock once more, brown and grey, gryffindor and slytherin, Potter and Black.

And James, stupid, unsubtle James, grins at him and runs a hand through his hair.

Regulus can't help the small smile that eases itself upon his mouth. He realizes then, that it is very unlikely that he will survive the phenomenon that is James Potter.

And he really doesn't care.

He doesn't mind that James will probably rip out his heart and take it with him to the Potter manor. He certainly doesn't mind if it stays there, under lock and key, basking in the one house he is sure overflows with affection.

However, as an omniscient narrator, I must let the reader know, Regulus' heart does stay with the Potter's forever. And his heart is in perfect condition, within him. Because you see, James didnt rip out Regulus' heart, he ripped out the darkness that corrupted it with such ferocity that it had no choice but to bow down to him. So Regulus stays with the Potter family, and soon enough becomes one himself.

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gloriousgoosegreeting · 1 year

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Stuck (König x gn!reader) Part 2

Part 1

Summary: it starts raining

Info: kiss, friends to lovers, a little bit of blood, fluff

Length: 874

First of all, apologies for leaving you on that cliffhanger last time, here is a small snippet to soothe it. I did not expect this to get any traction at all and just stopped when I felt like it, so thanks a ton for the support and feedback, this second part (if you can even call it that) would definitely not exist without it. I am sorry for it being so short, my mind already moved on to other projects. (Ghost x König, enemies to lovers anyone?)

__________________________

“Just, be careful.” He whispered as you leaned down to close the distance between you two.

König’s lips were soft, your eyes were closed, the kiss was gentle. You caressed the side of his cheek with your thumb, whilst his own hands had moved to your waist, keeping you steady on top of him. The coppery taste of his blood mixed with lasagna made you smile in amusement. You made sure to soak in this moment, realising you have been wanting to kiss him for quite a while.

You let the kiss be short and sweet, separating your lips without fully moving away. If you were to turn your head slightly your noses would touch.

His eyes opened slowly, looking at you with hooded lids, a huge smile crinkling the skin beside them. He took a deep breath that could be felt through his whole body.

It was obvious he wanted to say something but stopped midway.

“What?” Your voice was low, an inquisitive eyebrow raised.

But then his smile only grew wider and his hand moved up to guide you down to his lips again. This time with a newfound intensity, claiming your lips in sudden confidence, not wanting to let you go.

A cold drop ripped you out of the moment, a hand snapping to where it fell onto your neck. Another drop joined it. And then another. You broke away from the kiss, looking up.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” You cursed.

König chuckled. “Wir- Come on, we’re not made out of sugar.”

His hand was still on your jaw, begging you to look at him. And when you did, a mischievous twinkle could be found in his wide eyes.

His free hand had moved to his hood, lifting it up for you to hide underneath it.

You stilled for a second, the unexpected intimacy of this moment caused your heart to stutter. Despite the obvious invitation you still felt like you were intruding.

Like you were not allowed to look at him.

But boy, did you want to.

He had broad cheekbones which perfectly outlined a large freckled nose that successfully had stopped bleeding by now. And yes, he had not lied to you, it had definitely been broken a couple of times. He was beautiful in his own right, carrying strong features with a regality that you knew he was not aware of.

The shadow the hood cast was still making details in his face hard to discern. His eyes however were illuminated by the cutout holes telling you that you hesitated for a second too long. Insecurities making themselves at home.

The hood slowly closed again, the window of opportunity vanishing, with it the hand on your chin left as well.

You came back to your senses, sliding your head underneath the hood quickly and the trickling rain stopped running down your neck when the solid fabric fell around it. Breathless, you let your chins touch as you continued to stare at him. His eyes have left yours looking to the side.

It was surprisingly warm in there, his musk comforting. He swallowed. You started breathing again, nuzzling the side of his cheek before you continued the kiss that had been so rudely interrupted by the rain. It took a short moment for the intensity to build up again, but finally you two found a comfortable rhythm. You made sure to avoid his now delicate nose.

Using your newfound permission, you let your hands crawl further under his hood, tangling them in short but soft hair. Your lips started to wander to the corners of his jaw, his shortened breath tickling your ear. Slightly pulling on his hair, you pushed his head back to give yourself better access to his neck. You placed soft kisses along the line of his pulse, down to his adam’s apple which bopped nervously in response. You smiled again, your nose playfully pressed underneath his chin for a short moment before continuing.

With that your whole body moved down as well.

His breath hitched and you opened your eyes with a wicked smile, staring directly in his as much as you could in your current position.

And as much as he allowed with his own nervously darting to the side.

Your butt had crazed his crotch and he could not hide the arousal on his cheeks. You were sure he must already be half hard if you were to look down at his sweatpants. You cursed your own cargos for being too restrictive to actually feel anything.

“Perhaps we should take this somewhere else?” Your- no his hoodie was drenched by the rain. It had quickly picked up in the short moments you spent together.

“Yes, please.” He choked out.

You patted his chest, considering for a short moment to just lie yourself down on it for a bit. But your self control got the better of you and you lifted yourself from him.

You held your hand out for him, knowing full well that if he were to make proper use of it you would just fall on top of him again. He grabbed it still, and if just to have an excuse to keep your hand in his on the way back.

#König x reader #König x you #cod könig #könig #könig x gn!reader #konig x reader #konig x you #gn!reader #reader insert

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deluweil · 11 months

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I have burning Buck and Eddie questions,

I mean, I've come to terms with the bad storytelling, the repeated patterns and unfinished, at least in a satisfying way, thoughts displayed on the screen for the entire characters. (Hen's medical adventure, the friction that was between Buck and Chimney, Athena's dad, Bobby and Athena's honey moon (you can't tell me that that frame out of nowhere in the end of the episode said anything, it looked like it slipped in accidentally in editing.) and so many other things that will take me at least two posts to cover.)

But back to my Buck and Eddie questions,

Why?

Why have that couch flirting convo in the beginning of the season?

Why this entire domestic vibe? The fully baked lasagna after three tries? - It was perfect and it was ready and it smelled great.

In parallel to Marina from Station 19, when Maya (this very season) while in therapy, brought Carina a lasagna that gave her food poisoning. Because she was in a hurry when she baked it, that she brought it to Carina before it was ready.

Which, in correct writing world, means Carina and Maya are at a stage they're are not ready to get back together, they need a little more baking (Maya, more time in therapy, and Carina to trust her again) before they are fully baked - ready to get back together.

Buck's lasagna was perfectly cooked! And he served it to Eddie and Christopher.

Is that to say that the lightning strike spoiled Buck? (who apparently is the lasagna in this analogy somehow) and suddenly he's not ready anymore? Maybe he needs one more try before getting with Eddie? but that's beyond three tries - Abby, Ali, Taylor. Death girl makes four, so wth?

Is Marisol representing third try? Shannon, Ana, Marisol. I that what we're waiting for?

Because Eddie seemed ready, after the hospital, after roaming the halls like a ghost until Buck returned to him. - And in full, because they drew so close together after that, to the point that Eddie and Christopher spent their extra time with Buck, in his loft, on the wooden chairs at that wooden table, and none of it seems comfortable, and there's no couch, but Buck was home.

They were comfortable and happy with him.

And he is comfortable with them, happy to have them there.

He couldn't find the peace and quiet and space to heal in his own apartment, it kept getting intruded (I'll circle back to that later) so he found his refuge at Eddie's, he was asleep the second he rested on Eddie's couch, Eddie is home, Eddie is safe.

And the writers made it a glaring point that IT IS Eddie, because Christopher isn't part of the scene, so it's not the second parent here, it's Eddie's partner, his not yet but should be spouse.

In 6x13, we have the glaring parallel between Denny's bio father with Hen and Karen finding out, to Buck being entrusted with Christopher without needing Eddie there to supervise. (going all the way to S3 btw.)

What was that??

Now if it was the only interaction for that episode, I'd chalk that up to fathers and father figures and leave it at that.

But it wasn't - It was preceded by a freakishly domestic scene with all three of them and that POKER DATE - Because it was a date and you can't tell me otherwise.

Both unbelievably dressed up, Eddie looking at Buck like he's his entire world, like he's the only one in that room!

And he timed the exact time down to the second (like Chimney timed the time it would take help to arrive if Maddie gave birth at home and something went wrong) that Buck was dead. - The exact time Buck left Eddie, broken hearted, not breathing, looking like someone ripped his heart out and wheeled it away with Buck.

And Buck looked just as smitten in that poker game, he was having a good time, and seemed completely in awe of this new piece of information about Eddie.

He also glances back a bit in Eddie's direction when he says the exact time Buck was dead, if they were alone, would Buck have asked him or tell him like Maddie told Chimney? "You timed it." - Because that was the essence of that look.

What was the point of that episode??? - It cemented the Buckley-Diaz family so hard, that it was so hard to ignore.

But Eddie says in that episode, when the three were sitting together and he went full-Buck on the research of the side effects of lightning strikes victims. - He says that there was a guy who was struck by lightning and "the lights would turn on and off every time he walked into a room."

Which is the definition of how Eddie sees Buck, especially now after he died and came back and let them drew him closer to the Diaz boys.

But Eddie also said "But it didn't last." - "Only lasted a few weeks."

A few weeks, until Buck met Natalia - who "sees" him.

In between, we have Pepa trying to set Eddie up, but (aside from the fact that Buck's reaction was to ghost her) he wanted to let Venessa down easy, but she beat him to it.

When he says "You don't want to break abuela's heart."

She answers, "Or mine. You understand."

And he did, he does understand. And he was content to move on from there, thinking he wasn't alone, until the funeral scene and then the cemetery where Buck snuffs completely that light he brought with him and tells Eddie that Natalia "sees" him, better than anyone, better than himself.

Was that the writers way to tell us that it was pining Eddie era? that Buck is in crisis?

Because after Eddie was shot he got together pretty immediately with Taylor, after Eddie left he kissed Lucy, now he's dating Natalia after almost dying? A death doula? talk about morbid.

What was the point of that romance? If you can call it that?

In between we have wedding talks, and smores, and Christopher falling asleep on the couch while Eddie goes to get some smores in perfect imitation of Buck, and buddie sitting impossibly closer in the truck while talking about proposals and that damned camera moving to Eddie and Buck when Bobby says "It means you two were meant to be." - Like WTF?

Also, Why would we like Natalia for Buck if her reaction to learning about his life is to walk away as fast as her legs would take her??

And remember when I talked about intruding in the beginning (in connection to 6x12)? Well here we are again.

We have at first Cameron barging in (like Connor, in 6x12) and load all her problems with the other problem child in her life and then in 6x18, Buck leaves the door open for the paramedics, but Natalia barges in through the doors, and then also goes as far as asking if they shouldn't wait for the professionals, either forgetting Buck is a firefighter and is trained for it or doubting him even before they started something together, instead of asking him "have you done this before?" or "Do you know what you're doing?"

That would have gone over way better than looking for outside help inside someone else's apartment who gives you clear instructions of how you can help, it's pretty obvious that he at least half knows what he's doing.

And what the hell was it that made him ask the woman who not, say around three hours ago? came back into his life after leaving him to his mess (Ana, anyone?), to pick out a couch with him?? like wtf?

Like what was the point of it?

Now that I've covered Buck, I'm back to heartbroken Eddie, and don't tell me he wasn't on some level. That look he gave Buck at the cemetery, tells a long and painful story, the one where the bottom line is that he is not enough.

For the first time, in a really long time, Eddie is not enough to the one person who made him feel like he's everything.

Buck saved his life more than once, he SAT with him when he was going through A HARD TIME! (bathena parallels - scream with me!)

What is happening?

In complete rehearse of S4 - Eddie is going for help to everyone but Buck.

This time, it takes the shape of Bobby, on that father in-law, trip to the hardware store, where Bobby gives Eddie the right answer, but Eddie is not ready, not willing or doesn't think it will help to accept it.

Because that person that Bobby was paralleling to Athena ( in a vague way, of course) is Buck, and Eddie knows that too. - He says "So you definitely weren't looking for it." Eddie didn't look for Buck, he found him, he made Buck like him, made him his friend, his co-parent, his pretty much everything.

Because without Buck, Eddie has always floundered, looking for some anchor in the dark, whichever form it may come. - And while Ana came out of nowhere and Eddie was not yet aware of the potential of him and Buck and was stuck in the heteronormative narrative of a "Boy needs his momma" concept, he's well aware now.

Without Buck to steady him, he clings to the next person, who is "right in front" of him, and that is Marisol. It doesn't make her right for him, it just makes her there.

Now, how in the hell did they exchange numbers but talked for the first time weeks after everyone healed (except for Buck, somehow, lol), when in 6x17 Eddie was walking away, is beyond me, maybe telepathically. 🤷‍♂️ - And that "Like a date?" - that awkward first conversation is incomprehensible to me, you've talked, you've exchanged numbers, why does it feel like it's the first time?

Also that rescue in 6x18, I have a lot of medical and procedural questions about that half baked (like Maya's lasagna) scene, but what bugged me the most, was the lack of emotion.

Buck's entire family was in danger, and Buck is being entirely too cold about it? No. Buck wears his heart on his sleeve.

So where is the checking on Eddie as soon as possible, just to make sure he's breathing normally? Where's the hovering over Bobby?

Or going in the ambulance with Chimney? Or calling his sister? Why is Athena the one handling Eddie so gently, but not his best friend?

Where is the emotion? In season 1 Buck said he didn't want to be that red eyed robot, he wanted to be able to feel everything, where did that go? Has Buck resorted to working with his head instead of his heart? Is that the reverting back to Buck 1.0? Not because Buck 1.0 didn't feel anything, it's that he didn't want to get close to anyone who could leave him.

Is that what it is? Because the only real emotion Oliver gave us for that episode, was when held Buck's baby for that split second then handed him to Cameron. - There, and gone.

Now both JLH and Oliver stark are masters at making people FEEL things, tear up with them, why not here? What was the mechanics behind that emergency?

It wasn't interim captain Buck - that was Hen ("Hen that's you"), So what was that??

I have so many question, a lot of WHY, and WHAT, and WTF?? and a variety of WH questions. My mind is a confused mess, if buddie is nonexistent, explain this to me.

Go back to that gut wrenching scene in 2x08 (BUCK ACTUALLY) and make that journey with me up to those confusing 15 minutes of 6x18. - And explain this to me in a way that doesn't sound like stubborn blindness among other things, how buddie is only in our heads?!

If you've managed to get this far, thank you.

Sorry if I insulted someone but seriously this is driving me crazy.

Sending comforting hugs to this beautiful and nutty fandom 🤗❤

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #911 spoilers #911 6x18 #loooong rant #deluweil has a lot of thoughts #i have so many questions #explain 6x18 ending to me again #911 fox #118 firefam #so many parallels #too many to be a coincidence #911 s6 buddie meta

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malice-ov-mercy · 7 months

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Neighbors - part 2

*REPOST FROM MAIN BLOG*

Part 1

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x fem!Reader

Content warning: none

————————————

“Ugh! Are you fucking kidding me?!”

I yelled in frustration as yet another lasagna noodle ripped in half. I don’t know what possessed me to make such an infuriating dish, but here I was, running around like a chicken without a head. My kitchen was a mess, it was starting to get unbearably warm, and I almost started crying into my lasagna. I could have made something simpler like spaghetti, or even bought a lasagna, but no. I decided to stress myself out to impress Noah—and why? I’ve never made any of my other friends lasagna. Why was he deserving of a completely homemade lasagna?

The oven beeped as I finished my last layering of sauce and I sighed in relief. I quickly rinsed my hands and covered the mess of sauce and pasta with foil. I couldn’t wait to throw this thing in there and forget about it for an hour. I angrily shoved it in the oven then set a timer. Hopefully I could get a head start on the mountain of dishes before Noah arrived.

Frankly, I’m still shocked we hit it off as well as we did. We texted almost everyday, at least had one phone call every week or every other week, and even managed a few FaceTimes. He’d even sent me more merch and now I had a shirt for every day of the week plus some. We became quite close—I’d like to think so anyway.

I asked when he came back from tour if he wanted to hang out, he agreed but he said he needed a few days to decompress and relax. So that’s how I found myself here, rage making a dinner I wasn’t even sure was going to turn out. Granted, I didn’t have to make anything. In fact, Noah was quite insistent about just ordering something, but I was adamant about cooking. Nothing beats a home cooked meal after a long work day—months in his case.

Before I know it, forty minutes had gone by. I dried my hands and pulled the lasagna out of the oven. I’m greeted by a face full of steam and the smell of pasta sauce. It smelled and looked divine. I throw on the last of the cheese, then put it back in the oven for another ten minutes. I didn’t get all the dishes done, but I certainly made a dent. The door bell rings.

“Just a second!” I yell, quickly removing my apron. I hang it up next to the fridge then hurriedly make my way to the door. I briefly stop to check my appearance in the mirror on the living room wall, smoothing down a few stray hairs and brushing away some mascara flakes.

I opened the door just as Noah was getting ready to knock. He looked surprised then chuckled. I smiled up at him and he returned the gesture. His hair was tied back in a little bun. He wore a loose fitting white tee, black joggers, and socks paired with slides. I felt my cheeks warm as his eyes looked over me. I wasn’t dressed to the tens, but I did throw on a nice casual dress. It stopped just above my knees. I shyly stepped aside and gestured for him to come in.

“Thank you,” he said with a polite nod, sliding his shoes off. “You look nice. I feel severely under-dressed.”

I laughed. “You’re totally fine, don’t worry about it! You look comfortable and chill.”

I feel his eyes on my back as I shut the door. When I turn around, he quickly looks away, trying to act like he wasn’t staring at me.

“Kitchen’s this way.” I say with a smile. Noah leans slightly forward, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Lead the way.”

He follows close behind. I hear him take a deep inhale as we reach the kitchen.

“That smells so good.”

I grin widely at him.

“Thank you! I hope it tastes okay.”

Just then, the timer went off. I rush to turn off the oven and timer. I grab my oven mitts and pull the lasagna out. I set it on the counter as Noah takes a seat across from me.

“It has to sit for a little while longer before I can cut into it, I hope that’s okay. I’m also gonna finish the rest of these dishes real quick while we wait.”

Noah stared at the dish in front of him with a childlike wonder. I giggle. I grab my apron and tie it around my waist. My dish water has gone a little cold, but it’s still plenty warm enough to finish.

“What, have you never seen a lasagna before?” I tease, glancing over at him. He looks up at me.

“I have, that just looks incredible.”

I can’t help the prideful smile and feeling that swells in my chest.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” Noah asks.

I think for a moment. “Uh, yes actually. Could you grab some plates and silverware? Plates are in the cabinet right above the lasagna and the forks are in the top left drawer.”

Noah nods as he gets up. He has no problem finding the plates but he struggles to find the correct drawer. I finish up my last dish and dry my hands.

“It’s this drawer,” I say, reaching right in front of him and pulling it open. I grab two forks and set them down. “Thank you for getting the plates. Go sit back down.”

He does as I ask, and I grab a knife from my block and start cutting the lasagna. The pieces aren’t evenly cut, some are a good bit bigger than the others. I grab a pie server from the second drawer and carefully remove a bigger piece, placing it on a plate. I hand Noah the plate along with a fork. I pick a piece roughly the same size as his and serve myself. I grab my fork and come around to the bar side, taking the seat next to him.

I stare at my plate, the dinner looking and smelling even better than I could’ve hoped for. Then I suddenly remember I forgot to get us drinks. I get up from my seat and go to the fridge, retrieving two cold bottles of water. I place them down beside our plates before sitting again.

“I’d ask if you want anything else besides water, but water is all I have at the moment,” I say with a slight chuckle. “I forgot to pick something up yesterday.”

Noah smiles. “Water's fine anyway, thanks.”

I smile back at him then turn my attention to the food in front of me. I pickup my fork and cut into the layers of pasta and cheese. Noah follows suit. We do a small clink of our forks before taking a bite. My eyes closed. It tasted every bit as good as it looked and smelled, even better honestly. Noah’s head lulls back and his eyes also close. He groaned, sounding extremely satisfied

“(Y/N), this is fucking delicious.”

“Thank you.”

I chuckle watching him shovel more into his mouth.

“Slow down a little, Noah! There’s still plenty in the pan. You’re also more than welcome to take some home. It’s far too much for just me to eat.”

He looks at me then swallows his mouthful, nearly choking on it.

“Would you believe me if I told you this is the first lasagna I’ve made with homemade noodles?”

“You made this? Like completely?” Noah said incredulously.

I nod. “Pretty much yeah. I made the sauce and noodles. I would’ve made the cheese too if I had the time.”

“What the fuck?”

Noah stared wide eyed at me. I couldn’t help but laugh.

“I don’t get a chance to make people food much anymore,” I shrug, “Figured I’d go all out. Plus, consider it a thank you for all the merch you sent.”

“Well, thank you. This is… it’s very nice. And delicious.”

He smiles softly. His eyes are full of something that makes my heart skip. I can’t help but to get lost in them for a moment. They’re the darkest brown I’ve ever seen. They’re so warm and kind. Comforting. Gorgeous.

“You have really pretty eyes.”

Noah’s low but gentle voice pulls me away from my thoughts. His expression was pensive. It seemed like there was more he wanted to say, but he didn’t. He continued to gaze into my eyes, leaning ever so slightly forward.

“So do you,” my voice breathy and quiet, “And as much as I’d like to keep looking at them, we do have a dinner to eat.”

He opens his mouth to speak, then looks to the plate of food in front of him. He smiles—much like the smile that day at the mailboxes— and chuckles.

“I suppose you’re right.”

He turns his attention back to his half eaten lasagna. I catch a whiff of his cologne and hope I managed to hide the shaky deep breath I took.

—

A while later, we finished dinner. Noah gladly helped himself to a second plate. I tried to finish a second piece, but I just barely got halfway through. It had long since been forgotten about and gone cold as I listened to Noah tell tour stories. He told me fun ones, not so fun ones, and everything in between. Some he’d told me already on phone calls. I didn’t tell him that though. I liked hearing them again in person. Hearing him laugh and seeing the way his eyes crinkle when he laughed sure beat seeing it on a tiny little phone screen.

Eventually there was a lull in the conversation and a silence fell between us. It wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable. I stared at my half eaten lasagna and Noah stared at the pan on the counter, probably trying to decide if he should have another.

“You said I could take some home?” He asked. I nodded.

“Yeah go ahead! Take as much as you want!”

I watch him get up from his seat and grab his plate. On his way to the kitchen, he also grabs my plate without a word. He glances around the space looking for a trash can.

“In the cabinet on the left side of this dish washer.”

He finds it easily enough and scrapes the plate leftovers into the trash. I hop off my seat and join him in the kitchen, grabbing his plate before he places it in the sink. I carefully put a few slices of lasagna on his plate then ask if he wants more. He nods, so I give him another piece. I grab the foil from the drawer beside me and cover the plate.

“I’m gonna put this in the fridge. Be sure to grab it before you leave.”

Noah hums a response while I try to make room in the fridge for his plate and the leftovers still in the pan. When I’m done, I hop up on the counter and take a seat. I notice Noah still at the sink. I quirk a brow when I realize he’s washing the dishes. I frowned.

“Noah, you don’t have to do that.”

He glances back at me with a quick smile.

“Don’t worry about it. There’s not that much. It’s the least I could do. You were nice enough to cook a homemade lasagna for me.”

“It wasn’t entirely all for you.” I tease. He laughs.

“Either way, I appreciate it.”

I lean back on my arms, watching Noah closely. Not even some of my closest friends or family had offered to help clean up after a meal— let alone did it of their own free will. I couldn’t explain the feeling blooming in my chest. It made me feel warm.

I smiled at him when he turned back around to grab the kitchen towel. He dried everything then walked my way to put everything in its place. My eyes followed his long arms as he reached slightly above me. He noticed I was looking at him and tried to hide his smirk. I chose to ignore the slight yet deliberate flex of his muscle. His other arm lightly nudges my leg.

“Excuse me,” he says lowly.

My heart thuds. I cross my legs at my knees and scoot them over so he can get in the drawer. The way his eyes shift as he not so subtly watches the hem of my dress slide slightly up my thigh doesn’t go unnoticed by me. He has plenty of room to get in the drawer, but I lift my legs up and shift over more, causing my dress to rise just a little higher. Noah’s gaze doesn’t leave my legs as he blindly places the forks in the drawer. When he’s done, I slowly reach down and push the drawer closed.

“Thank you,” I say, my voice quiet.

His eyes come back to mine as he leans on the counter beside me. He’s close enough that I can almost feel his breath when he speaks. “Now what?”

I glance behind him at the clock on the wall.

“It’s still early. We could watch a movie or something.”

He nods in agreement, offering me a hand before I hop off the counter. I try to ignore how gentle and warm his hand is and how it nearly engulfs my own. I stumble slightly when my feet hit the floor. Noah’s quick to place an arm in front of me in case I fall. He lets go of my hand when he’s sure I’m stable. I’m tempted to grab it again and lead him to the living room, but instead I walk past him with a nod towards where we’re going. He follows closely behind. I can feel his body warmth on my back.

I gesture towards the love seat and sit, pulling the blanket down that’s draped over the back of it. I throw it over myself as Noah takes the seat beside me. I’m suddenly hyper aware of how close we are and how much space there isn’t between us. I feel my cheeks heat as I flip on the tv. I scroll through some movies before we decide on something that looks like it’s going to be awful. I shift my body to get more comfortable and accidently lightly elbow Noah.

“Sorry the couch is kind of small. I’m still waiting for my big couch to be delivered.”

Without a thought, I offer some of my blanket to him. Noah smiles, draping an arm along the back of the couch, then shakes his head. I pull the fabric up over my arms and sink further into the cushions as the movie starts.

—

I woke up the next morning disoriented. The TV was still on. I look up at the clock above the screen, seeing that it's just before 7am. I groan when I try to move my neck. The blanket is up to my chin. I stretch out my arms, smacking something behind me. It makes a displeased grunt before pulling me closer. It’s then I realized that I had fallen asleep on Noah. My heart pounds. I wanted to bolt up out of his grasp, but the warmth of his body and the tight yet tender hold he had on my waist was nice.

Ten minutes passed before Noah stirred and finally woke up. I was still locked in his arms. He groaned, finally releasing me so he could stretch.

“Good morning.” I said playfully.

His eyes flew open. I snickered.

“I don’t know about you, but I normally don’t sleep with people that easily.”

Noah stares at me then chuckles. There’s a slight tinge of pink on his cheeks.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a sleepover.” He covers a yawn; his voice is low and raspy. I suppress the shiver it sends down my spine. It’s too early for those kinds of thoughts.

“Would you like some coffee?”

Noah yawns again and smiles sleepily.

“Eventually, but,” he grabs hold of me and wraps his arms back around me, pulling me flush against his chest. I don’t even try to hide the surprised breath I take. “I would like to sleep more, if you don’t mind.”

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