#i have the answer. it’s like. two and a quarter hands

[strniohoeee]

Labyrinth

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female reader

Synopsis: A numb and addicted y/n can’t seem to understand why her life suddenly feels different. She’s done nothing but move around in her adult years, so why is it now that she feels she can’t pack up and leave anytime soon?

Warnings⚠️: I haven’t written in over a month, so I’m super rusty this might be shitty! Cigarette smoking and mentions, mentions of addiction, mentions of alcohol. I don’t condone smoking or drinking (underage).🖤

Song for imagine: Cigarettes and Coffee- Otis Redding

Its early in the morning

About a quarter ‘til three

I’m sittin here talking with my baby

Over cigarettes and coffee

I was never one to deal with stress easily which led me to deal with it in the worst ways possible. Drinking, smoking, quitting jobs on the spot and even packing up and leaving places…..I know stupid and risky, but I never had that anchor in my life to tell me everything was going to be okay.

If I felt stressed and useless my things were packed and I was on the road to a new state. I think I was on state number 7 in about a year and a half. Who the fuck in their right mind handles stress this way? That was the million dollar question, and I had the answer…. I wasn’t in my right mind…not in the past, not in the present and undoubtedly not in the future.

After my last breakdown I landed in California precisely in Los Angeles, the city of angels. Where all your dreams and aspirations could come true. It just felt like lost paradise to me, but it’s the longest state I’ve ever stood in. For some reason I couldn’t find the power in me to leave when I got stressed. It was as if I had some unforeseen future here….a future of happiness and hope?

But the stress still gnawed at me. Will I ever have a career, will I ever be truly happy, will my parents be proud of me?How am I going to pay for next month's rent?How am I going to pay for next week's groceries?

It was a constant battle and I never severely suffered because I always found a way, but once all that was taken care of the immediate panic started again about how will I be able to do it all in the following weeks.

I started smoking constantly and it was weird because I wasn’t a smoker but I knew I should drink a little less. I only lit a cigarette when the stress was so bad I refused to drink anymore. Not like smoking was any better ruining my lungs rather than my liver….

But the problem was it went from one to two a day to five and on really bad days even up to eight. It was a bad crutch I simply couldn’t pull away from. They were my training wheels and I was so scared that once I let go I’d crash and burn.

I had an addiction and I had no one around me to slap me out of it. Of course I still spoke to my parents, but I just lied about it. I mean there’s truly no one to blame but myself, however all that regret left my mind once a lighter was in my hand and I took a long drag while the cool night breeze brushed against my skin.

I was lucky enough to have found a job almost instantly. It was a cute little coffee shop that had a small selection of books. It was a peaceful and slow paced job. We only really needed two to three people working. So I’d open at 8am and waited for the next girl to clock in at about 11am.

It was a fun job that paid the bills and my horrendous cigarette addiction. I had found a decent studio apartment nearby. But I was always convinced that this would be snatched from under my feet and I should never get comfortable. As you can expect this led to my extreme stress and anxiety.

I didn’t necessarily have friends here, I mean yes I was cool with my coworkers and boss; but we weren’t friends. It was more of a hi, bye situation. It didn’t bother me much. I was always a loner. I never really found people who got me, so I stayed with the only person who did…me.

On my days off I spent a lot of time walking around flea markets, heading into other cafes and even writing. I’d always hoped that one day I’d be a writer. My mind was always running and I figured someone out there might actually relate to and enjoy the words I’d write on a piece of paper.

Today I was actually working a small shift from 8am to 1pm. I was staring blankly at my reflection in the bathroom. Scruffing my hands and gargling mouthwash. It was 11am and I was coming back from my break.

Spitting the mouthwash into the sink I closed the cap and stuffed the travel size bottle into my purse. Inhaling deeply I looked at myself once again.

“You have got to stop smoking” I replied in a mumble

Slipping my hand blindly into my purse I pulled out my perfume; spritzing myself before shutting the light and heading into the break room to place my purse back.

Slipping my apron on my coworker walked in, clocking in the back as she offered me a smile

“Good morning Y/N” she said as she walked towards me to place her things down

“Good morning K” I stated as I offered a smile back and began to make my way to clock back in

I wasn’t sure why her name was K, it was all over her employee paperwork. She was here before me, so I felt I had no right to ask her for her real name. But it was interesting for someone to just drop the rest of their name and solely go by a singular letter.

After punching back in I walked to the front, not a surprise it was dead. The only people lingering around were the 8am-9am crew. Sighing deeply I decided to clean up a bit.

It was about 12pm now and I was watching the clock anxiously waiting to clock out and run free. Usually I worked 8-4 and sometimes even 8-6. I had a whole day ahead of me and two days off might I add. I felt pretty invincible

Drinking from my water cup the door chimed signaling a customer. Placing the cup down I began to turn around.

“Hi welcome to Mugs” I stated as I turned around

Immediately I was intrigued. I have never seen someone as interesting before. I mean it is LA, so I have seen some interesting stuff; but no he looked different…. And for some reason I couldn’t really look away

Placing his vision glasses on top of his head he squinted his eyes to read the menu. My eyebrow raising.

“You know glasses are meant for you to see things” I said logging into the register as I looked up at him

“I’m sorry?” He said looking at me

“You um…. You put your glasses on your head and then squinted to read” I said pointing above me at the board

“Oh… well these are just blue light glasses. I genuinely can’t really see” he said in an awkward way

“Ohhh well uhh want me to read the menu to you?” I asked laughing a bit

“Oh no it’s fine, I’m not really a coffee drinker” he stated looking at our pastry display

“You do realize you’re in a Coffee shop?” I said jokingly

His both opened a bit and then he squinted his eyes

“I am now seeing how ridiculous I look” he said chuckling and shaking his head

“No judgment here” I said sticking my hands up in defense

“I won’t waste your time any more! Can I have a chocolate chip cookie and that bottle of Pepsi” he said pointing behind me at the small fridge

“One Pepsi and one cookie, coming right up” I said checking him out on the screen

Grabbing the cookie and bottle of soda I placed it on the counter and slid it towards him.

“You can tap or insert your card whenever you’re ready” I stated clicking some buttons on my screen

“I’m uhh actually paying cash” he said fishing in his wallet

“Woahhh cash in this century?” I said giggling and fixing the system

“Yeahh I carry a little bit of cash and little bit of card” he said shrugging his shoulders

“A little bit of card….hmm…that’s funny” I said giggling a bit at him

“Well you know what I mean” he says playfully rolling his eyes

“I’m just messing with you” I said shaking my head

Smiling he handed the cash over and grabbed his items

“Keep the change” he said waving with his hand and nodding his head

Walking out the door I couldn’t seem to understand why I had a stupid smile on my face. Putting the cash in the till and placing the change in our tip jar.

Turning around I was met with my two coworkers staring at me with a smirk on their face. I’d never been the spotlight of attention and I’ve never gotten anything other than a good morning from either of them. So my face dropped and I got self conscious

“What?” I said a bit scared as I straightened my posture

“He was totally into you” K stated as she placed the rack of cookies down

“Was not! We were just making friendly conversations” I said opening the pastry shelf and putting some cookies in

“No no I agree with K we’ve had a lot of guys come in here, but this is the first time I’ve seen a guy like utter more than two words to you and he was totally geeking out” Delilah stated

“Totally! That kid was blushing like crazyyy” K stated as she grabbed the now empty tray and began to walk back towards the kitchen

“Guys come on! It was just friendly banter” I said shutting the pastry door

“Delilah knows her shit too, that’s how Danny and I got together” K stated from the kitchen

“Shut up! No way” I said rolling my eyes

“Sure did! As soon as we had an interaction K told me he’d be back for my number, and that was three years ago” K replied

“You just got lucky this was nothing but mere coincidence” I replied back to them

“You’ll see girl” Delilah stated as she began to make herself a coffee

Playfully rolling my eyes I checked the clock, I had about 10 minutes till my shift was over. I decided to make myself a drink.

As I made my iced latte I began to wonder. I didn’t really have many interactions with guys, but I think I’d know if someone was flirting with me.

It just felt like a friendly banter with an awkwardly shy….nerdy guy. Laughing to myself I finished making my drink.

“Alright girls I’m going to clock out now” I stated as I walked to the back

Punching out and grabbing my things I slid my apron off and grabbed my drink. Heading towards the front of the cafe

I waved bye to the girls as I took a sip.

“Have a good day girls” I said as I walked out

I had the whole day ahead of me and I didn’t even know what I wanted to do. My job was near a pier where I could always sit down and watch people.

Before heading to the pier I decided to stop for some food. Heading into a small restaurant I sat down. Taking my book out of my purse I began to write. I hadn’t written in two weeks and it felt wrong.

Ghosting my hand over the paper, my mind just kept going blank. I couldn’t form a proper sentence and my mind began to race again. Thinking back on that boy I began to think about my love life.

Honestly I didn’t really have one, I was more of a hopeless romantic. Often watching rom coms and rolling my eyes at how unrealistic that love was. I’m sure it was tangible, but I was just a sour puss.

I longed for a relationship like that to always know you’ll have someone there for you loving you unconditionally. To be with someone through sickness and in health. I was only 22, but it seemed to me that everyone around me already had that amazing soulmate. I was very clearly late to the game and I wasn’t sure if I’d ever find someone to love. I wasn’t even sure I was lovable myself.

Then again I never put myself out there, but times have changed. It's not that easy. Guys have become so shitty and all they care about it sex. But it’s like what about getting to know the person deep down.

Not once has a guy ever asked me my dreams and aspirations, where do I see myself in five years? What are my biggest goals in life? What’s my biggest fear….. I lost all hope for love by the time I was 18.

Reading romantic stories and watching these shows and movies definitely added salt to the wound.

I hadn’t realized how much I was writing till my hand began to cramp. Looking up I realized it was no longer daytime.

“Shit” I muttered under my breath

Slamming my book shut I paid my bill and began to gather my things. Walking out of the restaurant I stepped out onto the golden street. It was about 5:45 and I really couldn’t understand how that much time had passed.

I think that’s why I enjoy writing the most, I’m so far gone in my own world it’s like I’m frozen and the world around me continues to move.

Walking towards the pier it was surprisingly empty at this time. Breathing in the salty air I sat down on a bench. Watching the ocean I let the breeze blow through my hair.

Digging in my purse I pulled out my pack of American Spirits. Sighing deeply I pulled a cigarette out. As soon as I grabbed my lighter all the regret washed away from me.

Placing the white object in between my lips I flicked the lighter a few times before a glowing flame appeared before me. Guarding the flame from the wind I brought it closer.

Inhaling as I lit the cigarette all my worries washed away. This was only my second cigarette of the day and I somehow felt accomplished.

Kicking the gravel underneath me I took a long drag, exhaling I got up. Walking over to the edge of the pier I decided to sit down allowing my legs to hang off the edge.

I wasn’t 100% sure I could do this, but it’s worth a shot I thought to myself. Leaning my chin in the railing I took another drag as I stared into the sunset.

Life was so beautiful and I wasn’t sure why I was so sad and numb all the time. I took a lot for granted and I hated it.

I really needed to stop smoking.

“You know those things will kill you” I heard from behind me

My brows began to furrow as I took a drag

“I’m sorry?” I said annoyed as I looked behind me, blowing the smoke out through my nose as my face dropped

“You shouldn’t smoke” he said again with a cheeky smile on his face

Meeting eyes with the same guy from the cafe made my heart skip a beat and my throat go dry.

“Squinting your eyes is also bad for you” I said putting the cigarette out

“Won’t kill me though” he said shrugging his shoulders

“You never know” I said shrugging my shoulders and standing up

His eyes followed me as I got up and it was only then did I feel super self conscious about this whole situation. My embarrassment turned a bit into anger.

“Anyways you drink Pepsi, so that for sure will kill you” I said as I dusted my pants off

“Guess we’ll both be dead then” he replied

“Wow you’re super blunt” I said scoffing

“Sorry! I’m sorry I didn’t mean to come off rude. I was just playfully teasing” he said looking nervous

Looking at him for a split second and I sniffed and then rolled my eyes

“It’s fine. It’s a bad habit anyways” I replied shrugging my shoulders

“We all have bad habits we’re not proud of” he said in a whisper

“Are you uhh following me?” I asked him cocking an eyebrow

“What? No oh my god no! I was just walking and I thought you looked super familiar” he replied putting his hands out in defense

“I’m just teasing you” I said giggling

“I’m Matt” he replied placing his hand out for me to shake

“I’m Y/N” I stated as I shook his hand

“It’s nice to formally meet you” he said awkwardly

“Yeah” I replied awkwardly

“I’ll uh… ill let you go on about your business. Maybe I’ll see you around” He said

“Well you know where to find me” I said smiling at him

Opening my bag I was digging around for my phone before successfully pulling it out.

“Right, we’ll have a good evening” he said and waved shyly

“I’ll see you round Matt” I replied

Going our separate ways I looked down at my phone, 6:55pm…. Sighing, I walked back to my car close to the cafe and drove home.

Shuffling up the stairs I pushed my apartment door open after unlocking it. Making note that I must call the maintenance guy because that door needs some WD40 badly.

Locking the door I turned my lights on. Today just felt strange like I couldn’t put my finger in exactly what the fuck was going on.

Walking over to my patio I opened the sliding door and stepped out. Taking in the evening breeze my mind just went blank.

Stepping back inside I grabbed my purse, grabbing my lighter I shuffled my hand around my purse to feel for my pack of cigarettes. But my brows furrowed when I didn’t feel the square container.

Walking over towards the light I opened my bag more and looked inside. An annoyed feeling washed over me as I couldn’t find the box. I mean honestly good because I did not need anymore.

Still searching as if the box was going to magically appear. I groaned soon realizing I must’ve left them on the bench and they are for a fact long gone by now.

Throwing my lighter back into my purse I groaned and sat on my couch. The one time I desperately need a cigarette I fucking left it on the pier.

I cut that night short with a 80s movie marathon and left over pizza as a midnight snack.

remembering that tomorrow I had to stop into the cafe to pick up my paycheck. We’re living in a very digital world right now and my job still does paper checks….

Groaning at that I decided to call it a night….

The End

Okayyy IVE BEEN GONE FOR SOOO FUCKING LONG. And I’m sooo sorry it’s just life has been so crazy since March! However this was the end of part 1….stay tuned for more🥺🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets imagines #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo imagines #matthew sturniolo x reader #Spotify

[hxltic]

bein yelled at by ghost. you’ve been in the army this long, been yelled at by sergeants and others alike, majority men—obviously—but none of them like this. The others you didn’t even flinch as they screamed directly into your ears, probably even worse than other men just to intimidate you as a woman.

You caught him in a bad mood and it seemed completely unrelated to work, but as his partner and soldier, he had to tell you things that you didn’t want to hear.

“Hey, I got your message Simon, didn’t mean for that to happen. Won’t let it happen again.” You place some things of yours down on the dresser as you enter his quarters. He’s standing there in thought, unreadable.

His mask is still on with his gear connected to his body.

“Damn right, you won’t.” He gruffs, heavy in his accent.

All you could do was question what this meant. Would he not let you do it again? Were you being thrown in a different squad?

“What does that mean?” You stop your moving for a direct answer. You almost took that personally.

He explains, “You made an impulsive decision that would have led to half our unit being taken out. The amount we sent to that building was more than usual.”

“I understand, and that was on me. In my defense though: it was a suggestion in the moment, one that the other members also formally agreed to. It wasn’t just me.” You giggle, even though you’re aware these aren’t giggling matters. You just needed to lighten the mood.

“There were 35 men in that building alone. Led by Gaz and König!”

He fully pronounced the words, turning to you aggressively. Had you known this was the severity of his mood, you never would’ve taunted him in any type of way. This was when he had to be your boss.

“I understand but-“

“It doesn’t matter who agreed! You are seen as a leader standing next to me and you introduced the idea. I cannot be there to stop you every time you do something stupid.” His eyes were laced with anger, an anger that arose out of the protection built for his squad over the years.

“Every time?”

He said that like you did something stupid every day. He’s had bad missions before too, and we should all just be happy everyone made it back safe. Well, maybe one or two. He quickly turns to you, but stays in his spot.

“Every bloody time. It’s the mission before that. Then that. You cannot keep jeopardizing this team.”

Despite the offense you took to his words, you understood him.

“I understand.” You speak. For the night, you split off into your own quarters, not wanting to anger him any more than you already have. You’ll just have to be better with your decisions. There’s more than just your life on the line now.

The next few days, you’ve been kind of stand off-ish, hoping he’d come to you when he was feeling so. Instead, you were all assigned a mission, one they’d put you in charge of. Naturally, you’d felt it best to prove yourself and win his attention back. He was still Simon, and you still loved him.

. .

You all returned back to base with a more than successful mission under your belt. This made you extremely happy, as it’s finally a good time to speak to him.

You approach his door, then knock. You never knock.

A deep, “Come in,” is all you get.

You walk in to him sitting at his desk, his back to the door.

“Hey,” is all you can muster. You’d had the balls to walk in, but Simon is still a scary man. Your hands come down from his shoulders to massage over his biceps.

“I’m sorry for the past few days. I hope I redeemed myself?” You try.

“Hm,” He grunts, standing from his desk and filing papers into the drawers. This made you a little wary.

“Are you feeling okay Simon?” You fiddle your fingers together as you watch him walk around to the other side of the table.

“Fuckin’ fabulous.”

Your hands drop. You’d expected something, or some type of praise. Instead, you got this.

“What’s wrong? I thought I did good this time?”

“Is there something you want?” He shoots back. You glance at him, then around the room, then the floor. “No? Alright then.” He continues on as if you aren’t there. You stand in disbelief.

“What has got you so upset Simon? You can talk to me.”

“Did ya come in my room with nothin to say? What are you here for?” he snaps back.

This was a knife in the heart. You’d been terrified of the business portion of your relationship engulfing the rest, but you didn’t want to believe it. Maybe that wasn’t the case. Maybe it wasn’t you.

“Literally what is your problem?” You wanted to yell, but you couldn’t. It wasn’t in your nature. It didn’t feel right yelling at him.

You attempt to walk to his front, hoping that seeing your face would bring him some sense of calmness or bring him back down to Earth, but that was long gone. He’d lost all professionalism or softness.

Or maybe that was just it, and there was too much professionalism.

You reach him and plead, “Simon please, let me help y-“

“Fuckin’ hell, I don’t need your goddamn help!”

His head whips around, and that was all it took for you to realize the severity of everything going on. You’d physically retracted back and flinched. It’d been a long time since you’d done that.

“What do you want?” He throws the pen he’d held to the wall, and if you could see, you’d say there was a visible dent. That was your second step back, and you only took more as he came forward powerfully, his frame enlarging with each step.

“I-“

“Do you want me to praise you for your fuckin’ job? Now that you’ve decided to take it seriously?” He growls.

This was completely untrue, it wasn’t easy getting into 141, and it didn’t take anything but seriousness. Despite this, it didn’t take away from how his voice seemed to reverberate through your bones. You were retreating from him the best you could, but you didn’t want to look away, afraid it’d make him angrier.

Your hands felt around behind you as you got closer and closer to the wall, but not before detecting a small table that almost had you stumbling backwards when you knocked it over. Along with some more pens, a vase fell, shattering about and leaving tiny shards for your feet to step on the one day you decided not to wear the house slippers Gaz always made fun of you for.

He could literally take your breath away, but the piercing sensation under you couldn’t compare to the expression he wore that was dripping with malice. You felt like prey under a predator, caged to the wall with nowhere to go.

Your back hit with a thump, your hands flying back to the wall but close to your figure. You’d wanted to put them between you two, hoping it’d prevent him from coming closer, but it wouldn’t work. So now you search for separation by forcing your cheek against the wall, eyes frantically darting back and forth between nothing in particular and the raging man towering over you. You don’t think you could look at him anymore.

You whisper, “S-Simon. Please-”

He was so close his breath was to your ear as he leaned over. You were scared. In fact, you’d spoke it so lightly, you don’t even remember if you did or if it was just a thought.

“This,” he was referring to today, “is absolute bare minimum. Your job is to take orders, then get it done with the least. Casualties. Possible. Do you understand me?” He enunciates every part of the sentence, every word, so deep and low but strong that you had no choice but for it to be engraved in your brain. He was infuriated.

You didn’t want to breath too hard, afraid it’d also upset him, so your shortness of breath had you quickly nodding. The last words had you trembling.

“Do you fuckin’ understand me?” His words seem to shake the room, booming loud and clear enough to make you flinch again and your eyes squeeze shut. It was even worse than before—you were terrified.

He made you feel like a little girl again, answering to her father that she could never seem to impress no matter what she did. That’s why she joined the army. So she could be in charge.

But it didn’t stop because your eyes had to blink open to reality, and the time bomb called a response was ticking, just like his already gone patience. It also didn’t stop things from getting blurry, and before you knew or could stop it, there was a tear gathering that eventually released to your cheek.

“Y-yes sir,” you whimper on unsteady breath, Closing your eyes in prayer he would retreat. He was there for a little longer, but once you felt his presence leave back into the heart of his room, you still didn’t move an inch. You eventually shuffled uncomfortably to the door, not even feeling okay enough to close it behind you. You dashed as fast as one could go with millions of tiny glass in their feet, and before tending to it, you shut your door and fell to your butt with your back pressed against it and cried.

It’d been so long since you’ve cried over this specific issue; you thought you’d left it behind you. You technically had, but it was reawakened. The mission fatigued you, and you were so exhausted, but the only reason you didn’t lay your head down in the bed and fall asleep was the glass that would distribute painfully throughout your sheets.

You wrapped your feet and slipped into the night with the occasional sob.

. .

Sometime in the night, your locked room was intruded, assumingely by the one man graced with a key. Large hands scooped you up effortlessly, before bringing your head to one shoulder. You felt warm lips seep into your forehead.

He whispered things to you, things you couldn’t hear, but your head was held protectively with his strong hand over your ear. You’d been rested in another bed, one that smelled like him. He removed the tape from your feet and actually cleaned your wounds before tucking you in and sliding in beside you.

He felt like he didn’t deserve it, the guilt enough to bring him to tears, but he also felt like he didn’t deserve to cry. So instead, he tucks your head into his body closer, praying the sleeping version of you would recognize this as an apology until the morning.

©️ hxltic pt.2!

#cod mwf2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #cod modern warfare #ghost x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #ghost simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #cod angst #cod mw ghost #ghost angst #cod ghost #cod ghost angst #call of duty mw2 #call of duty mwii #call of duty #call of duty ghost #ghost call of duty #mwii #mw2 #ghost mwii

[markscherz]

Is frogs were wizards, what kind of magic would they have?

Look, I think the Basic™ answer is that frogs belong to the Transmutation school of magic because, hello, metamorphosis, but galaxy brain herpetologists know that more than a quarter of all frog species don't have tadpoles.

Toxicologists could tell you of the venomous species that can deliver a real Shocking Grasp that leaves you with Burning Hands—mainstays of Evocation magic.

Ecologists will tell you frogs are pivotal mesopredators and those with tadpoles occupy two trophic niches over their lifespans—classic Abjuration magic.

Some field biologists will tell you how hard it is to find some frogs, even when they are calling from immediately in front of you—archetypal Illusion shit.

Other field biologists might tell you that sometimes frogs start calling a few minutes before the rain actually comes. Obvious hallmark of Divination school.

Conservation biologists will tell you that some species that were declared Extinct or likely Extinct have been rediscovered recently, so I suspect at least some are from the Necromancy school

Behavioural ecologists might tell you that some frogs have familiar pet tarantulas (Big Spider want you to think it's the tarantulas keeping the frogs as pets, but don't be taken in by their biased lies). You want to tell me that they're not Conjuration wizards?

But Frog Fans (Frans) will tell you they belong to the Enchantment school, because hearteyesmotherfucker.gif. I mean, they somehow got you following me, right?

#magic #animals #biology #D&D #frogs #Frans #tasticwolf #answers by Mark #schools of magic #5e #dungeons and dragons

[eccentricwritingbaby]

baby finn series, sneaking onto stream

series list - house divided - bedtime stories - babysitting and date nights

lando norris x mom!wife!reader

summary - little baby norris misses his dad and goes on a mission to find him, when found - it can only result in cuddles

masterlist

-

it was a quarter past six at night in the norris household, and having just finished eating, the young family parted for their different nightly duties. lando bringing finn to his bath as you began to clean up the kitchen after dinner. succeeding a few moments of your comfortable silence - which isn’t ever silence in your house, it’s the distant baby giggles and splashes in the tub and the quiet coo’s coming from your husband - you ready the house for nighttime. setting out finn’s playmat with a few toys near the sofa and dimming the lights around the home, you feel at peace. just then you hear the light laughs and footsteps as your husband comes down the hall, with a fresh and clean baby, as you're starting to put away the clean dishes.

“there’s momma! i told you she was waiting for you, bubs,” lando softly speaks to your son in his arms. 

“was someone missing me?” you turn from putting away the dinner plates in the cupboard to face your two favorite boys. 

“mommaaa” finn begins to make grabby hands in your direction as he whines, causing you to stroll over and grab him from your husband’s arms.

“been askin’ about you since the shampoo portion of the bath,” lando chuckles a bit as his left hand finds your waist to pull his little family closer to him.

“you missed me, baby?” you ask again to your son as he cuddles into your arms.

“wan’ boaf of you, momma and dada for bath time,” finn answers quietly, sleep gracing his voice in the way both you and lando cherish.

“you wanted both of us buddy? next time we’ll both be there, okay?” your husband assures your son with a ruffle of his hair. he lets out a soft ‘otay’ back to the two of you and you both are just enamored by his cuteness. lando’s hand then drops from your waist and instead moves to your head, bringing it closer for him to plant a kiss on top. 

“i’m heading to stream with the boys, love. just come on in if you need anything,” your husband then dips down to plant the same kiss on his son’s head as he jokingly waves a finger in front of his face, “no trouble for momma when i’m gone, mister. no parties, no girls, no staying up and drinking too much milk,” your son just laughs at his father’s antics as they are a regular occurrence and you can’t help but join in on the amusement with your own giggles. one more kiss to your forehead and lando is heading down to his streaming room in order to get started and you make your way over to the sofa.

setting finn down on his playmat, he begins to crawl and walk around, playing with his toy cars and other sets, leaving you to finish your business in the kitchen. you had a burst of energy that night to give a thorough cleaning to your home, and it seemed like your son had that same energy as well. you were able to see the playmat from your spot in the kitchen, but didn’t have too much concern for your son’s actions due to the babyproofing lando had set up when finn began crawling and walking. 

“momma” finn calls over to you from the living room, holding his papaya car in one hand and ferrari car in the other. 

“yes, love?” you call back, peering over the kitchen island to get a look at your baby. 

“where dada?” 

“he’s in his office, baby. he’s streaming, remember?” you gently remind him, hoping he was tired enough to not have a tantrum, but not too tired where he would also have a tantrum. the joys of a toddler.

“wanna play cars with dada,” he whines a bit and you sigh, struggling to quickly figure out a response.

“what if he plays cars with you tomorrow? i’m sure he would love that and then you would have sooo much time, too!” you try to steer him into the excitement of your idea, “because you’ll have to go to bed soon, so you won’t have much time tonight,”

“boaf?” your son lets out in adorable curiousness with his question.

“not both, love. and not tonight, i’m sorry,” you gently push again, “do you want a bit of bluey before bed? you didn’t get any tv time today?” with that offer your son is vigorously nodding his head yes, leading you into a laugh as you walk over to turn it on. ‘so spoiled’ you hush out with a laugh under your breath, heading back into the kitchen to pick up where you left off. 

-

lando had been on the stream with george, alex, and charles for about half an hour. he knew that soon you would leave a gentle knock on the door, alerting him of finn’s bedtime. he would quietly pause the game, head out of the room, tuck in your son with you, say the goodnights, and then head back to his game. however, the knock he heard this time was a little different than yours, and the sound came from a lower area on the door. which only meant one thing. 

as lando pulled the door open, his son tumbled a bit from leaning against it and your husband’s father instincts cut in as he caught him, swinging his body up to his hold, “what’re ya doing, buddy?”

“miss’ you, dada,” finn quietly speaks to his father, nuzzling deep into his neck in order to achieve peak comfort. 

“aw, bubs, dada missed you too,” lando sighs while rubbing his back. even though you both didn’t want to subject finn to the public, he made appearances here and there. and with lando’s mic having been left on, he couldn’t really hide the fact that his sleepy son was in the room. the comment finn made also tugged on lando’s heartstrings, which led to his decision to climb back into his chair with the sleepy boy on his lap. lando traveling constantly for work and you not being able to follow him every time, leads him to cherish his moments he can achieve with finn. therefore, aiding in his decision to not seek you out, and instead have his son join him. 

as lando takes a seat, he announces into his mic that a ‘special guest appearance’ will be happening, and finn appears on the screen, cuddled into lando’s lap. the comments on the stream begin to go by in a frenzy, lando only picking up a few ‘awwww’ and ‘baby finn!!’ comments along the way. the boys on the stream all notice and begin to say hello as finn picks his head up to glance at his father.

“they’re all saying hi, bub. do you wanna say hi back?” lando asks gently to his quiet son.

“who dada?” his innocence shining through his wide eyes and parted lips as he stares in awe of your husband.

“well, you remember charles and alex and george, right?” lando begins, attempting to coax finn’s memory to his paddock friends, “charles drives with uncle los?” lando pushes a bit further.

“uncle los is here!” finn perks up at his favorite uncle’s name, and the boys on the stream all groan, earning a chuckle out of lando. 

“bubs, you remember them, here, look,” lando points up to the screen as his son follows his finger to see all the boys smiling and waving. finn - loving the attention, just like his father - attempts to stand up on lando’s legs, sticking a hand out to wave back. lando’s hands go straight to his son’s waist, holding him close and ultimately pulling him back down onto his lap. 

“i like your pajamas” charles laughs out through the screen, identifying finn’s bright red ferrari pj’s he attempts to wear every night.

“charles likes your jammies, buddy,” lando relays, “what do we say?”

“tank you, cha!” finn screeches out while giving a giggle. the boys all then begin to comment on how the mclaren driver’s son is eating, sleeping, and breathing ferrari - just as you quietly open the door to the room, facing right at your boys but not in view of the camera. peaking your head in, you make eye contact with lando, him giving you a non-verbal communicator that he’s got finn and you’re okay, easing the panic in your eyes. 

“momma!” finn lets out a yelp as he notices your presence.

“hi, baby. you disappeared on me, i almost had to send out a search party!” you amuse your son as he gurgles into his father’s arms. 

“i sowwy, mommy. i jus’ miss dada” he says back, furthering his cuddling into lando’s arms, who simply pulls him closer and pecks his head with a kiss whispering a ‘missed you too, buddy’. 

“it’s alright, baby. next time just tell momma before you go, okay?” kindly reassuring the boy. 

“otay, mommy,”

“but it is bedtime, mister. so say goodnight to daddy and his friends,” you nod towards lando and his set up. 

“nooo, mommy pwease! dada and i have fun!” your son gives you an adorable whine as he lays against your husband. looking up to make eye contact with him, you see lando's puppy dog eyes on full display. 

the same ones that got you to go on a date with him, the same that got you to marry him, the same that got you a baby with him, the same that have you trying for another baby with him, and the same that are going to make you say yes today and deal with a cranky little three year old tomorrow. 

lando see’s the wheels turning in your brain and decides to add on in order to hit the nail in the coffin, “please, momma. five more minutes,” your husband pleads with your son. finn looks up at his dad, then whips his head back to you and nods his head, agreeing with his father.

you let out a defeated sigh, “fine, five more minutes,” your boys begin to cheer at their victory but you cut it short with a quick finger pointed at lando, “but you’re dealing with the cranky kid tomorrow,” you bite with a smile. your son looks up at his father, letting out a ‘ooooooo, you in twouble’ leading to everyone, including the stream, erupting in laughter. 

lando shakes his head at the teasing, hugs his son tight to his chest, and replies back with his best answer, “worth it,” while shooting you a wink as you shut the door.

#babyfinnseries #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #ln4 #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #carlos sainz jr x reader #lando x reader #lando imagine #landonorris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris icons #lando norris x wife!reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x oc #lando norris x oscar piastri #lando norris insta au #lando norris instagram edit #lando norris fluff #lando x y/n #lando x you #lando x oscar #lando norris smut #ln4 smut #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic

[motelofmermaids]

omg we need a finnick x shy reader plz😭🙏🙏

this pulled me out of my slight writer’s block, bless you. ❤︎︎ i want to add that this is definitely adding onto this request, and i kind of built a story from it. i wanted to keep it canon to the hunger games, and i didn’t make reader too shy to where it’s like… c’mon. nonetheless, i really hope y’all enjoy!!

finnick odair loves how shy you are.

❥ when you first, for a lack of better terms, met finnick odair, it was a year before the third quarter quell. he was free, as far as you knew, sun kissing his slight honey-tanned skin, illuminating his sea-green eyes. he, without a doubt, had your breath taken. it would have been far from the truth if finnick said your sole attention on him at the bustling farmer’s market made him uncomfortable. for the first time, he truly thrived under another’s attention. finnick had noticed your presence throughout the market, shy glances as you listened to the shop owner’s attempts to persuade you. he gave you a smile, a wave—and you, little ol’ you, immediately turned around and walked anywhere your shaking legs took you. finnick wondered if he did something wrong.

𓆝 the second time you saw finnick odair was at the beach, sitting in the water as mags listened to his incoherent rant. you noticed his body language, his hands talking with him. you had gotten in an argument with your parents beforehand about the upcoming hunger games, they said you could volunteer, give your family honor. you could’ve been useful—to the district, to the capitol—but you ‘wasted’ your life on making jewelry for the local children and shop owners. sure, they were beautiful, ‘but not good enough.’ as small sob threatened to leave your lips, holding onto the bracelets you had made days before—for your parents. walking past mags and the capitol’s darling, mags pulled finnick out of his rant, pointing to you. finnick wasted no time catching up to you.

❥ months have passed leading up to the quarter quell, in which you and and finnick had become… friends. it took him a while to get almost anything out of you, being as quiet as you are. it was worth it, though, the way you slowly came out of your shell around him—when you gave him such sweet smiles, finally not covering your mouth with your hand when you’d laugh. you still got warm on the cheeks, still couldn’t look into his eyes for too long, especially since finnick was a natural tease. he always leaned in a little too close, he would bite his lip when listening to you, sometimes he’d move a strand of hair away from your face. it was all too much for you, and finnick knew that.

𓇽 when snow announced that previous victors would be reaped for the 75th hunger games, you immediately ran to finnick’s. you couldn’t even think, instantly pulling him into a hug when he answered. you held him the entire night, mags right beside the two of you. “finnick,” you cleared your throat, tears threatening to fall, “i want you to have this…” you took off your necklace, hesitating to hold his hand as you gave him the beautiful seashell pendant. he leaned up, his other hand reaching to gently brush your cheek. “i…,” you stuttered over your breath, looking away from him, “i want you to have a piece of home with you.” mags observed the both of you, giving an all-knowing smile.

❥ when finnick odair finally came home to a liberated district 4, a liberated and free panem, he only thought of you. as soon as finnick found you, eyes red and scanning the crowds of people, he ran without any regard. gently cupping your face, he looked down at your wide eyes, your shaking hands resting on his arms. he refused to waste another moment, not when he almost died—when you could’ve died. he leaned down, his breath gently grazed against your lips, and you heart might have given out from how fast it was beating. you closed your eyes, a small unspoken consent for him, and he kissed you. he kissed you until you realized that he was your source of oxygen, that he was all you had. he slowly pulled away, a smile adorning his lips and you couldn’t bear it—your eyes fluttering shut in pure timidity.

𓆝 finnick wanted you to move in, thought you’d love it more because it was near the water. he told you about all the nights you could have together, walking on the beach and stargazing. you agreed, of course you would, with the one condition of getting a cat. he didn’t hesitate, and you and him were comfortable together. it wasn’t a new home, it was filled with finnick’s childhood, but there was a novelty in the air—it felt like a new beginning… it was a new beginning. you had a family now; finnick made sure to remind you of that everyday. you and him—and your cat— were normal, you didn’t need to lower your voices to appease the oppressive capitol.

❥ you didn’t need to lower your voice when finnick had you underneath him. it was slow, sweet, and spiritual. he promised you from the start that he understood you, that you could take your time. he didn’t want you to rush just to please him. and when you nervously told him that you were ready, he made sure it was the best experience you could ever imagine. he needed you to know just how much he loved you, and that you didn’t need to be quiet with him—that you didn’t have to put on a mask. you were simply you, in your rawest form. and he craved every second of it.

𓇽 when finnick had mentioned marriage, you, without a moment to process, spluttered. he knitted his brows together, a small frown on his face as he asked if it was too soon, too straightforward. you panicked out, “no—no… no, not at all.” but you were hot, hand on your cheek to cool yourself down because, dear lord, you felt like you were burning. finnick couldn’t help his laughs, a cocky grin accentuating his sweet dimples. he cherished you, and you were aware of it; his love for you would endure as long as he lived. when you put your head in your hands, nodding as you muttered a small ‘yes.’ he swore you were sent from the heavens—that you were meant for him.

finnick odair who loves you for you.

#kel’s anon show 📺 #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #i loved writing this #i hope y’all love it just as much

[chilumi-shipper]

Not Meant for the World

Kamisato Ayato x Fem!Servant!Reader

Summary: You fell for him, he fell for you, it was the typical start of a relationship, only problem is… well, he's him and you're you. A Commissioner who holds power over the nation, and a servant that basically amounts to nothing in the whole scheme of things. It was a mutual decision to keep your relationship a secret, only to be kept within the dead of night in his bedroom, evaporating before the sun could even rise for another day. But then… Ayato seems so keen keeping it a secret forever, letting the stream of wedding proposals and love letters flood in, going through great lengths to make sure the information doesn't leak out, almost like he's ashamed of being with someone like you. You could only take so much of that.

Tags: Angst no Comfort, Hidden Relationship

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

"You should probably go back to your quarters." As you were snuggled up to your lover's chest, enjoying his warmth under the covers of his bed, he spoke.

"But it's barely time." You whined, pressing your body closer to his and rubbing your face on his chest.

Back then, he would cave, he would chuckle and wrap his arms tighter around you, saying that you could stay for a little bit more and that he didn't really want you to leave anyway.

Now… he pulls away from your embrace, sighing as he looks you in the eye.

"It would be best to elliminate all the chances of us being caught, and I believe that some of the servants have been getting up early to start their shifts." He reasoned, his hold faltering as you feel his arms slip off you.

You felt a clenching pain in your chest as you slowly get up, looking around his room, you didn't want to leave, and yet when you looked at him, you felt like you were being pushed away.

"Okay… I guess I'll get going now…"

This is the part where he would usually kiss you and remind you that he loves you…

It never came…

You left his room without another word.

…

"Is it perhaps too much to visit a festival together?" You asked, not expecting a pleasurable answer from the Yashiro Commissioner sat on his office chair and drinking a cup of tea you prepared for him.

"I believe it is, being seen in public in a non-professional setting would be rather suspicious if it's just the two of us." Ayato responds firmly, oblivious to (or perhaps just ignoring) the frown that formed on your face.

"We've been out together multiple times…" You reasoned, though you sounded unsure, not wanting to sour his mood and lessen your chances of getting him to agree to your proposal. "We haven't been on a date in a while."

"The families offering up their daughters to me are very vigilant of my public movements, suspicions will arise if they were to see me with any lady for no particular reason." He did not even spare you a glance, answering swiftly as he always does.

Yet again, you fail to persuade him to be with you. You prepared to say more, but a knock came before your words.

A guest came to the estate, a father of one of the many noble ladies offering their hand in marriage.

Long story short, he's here to talk marriage business, as these fathers always do.

When the guest left for a moment, "My lord, I just need a few more minutes to talk to you." Many times, you have tried to intervene, not satisfied with how your conversation earlier abruptly ended.

"Y/N, there are matters more important than this. Wait a moment." He pays you no mind, but you have had enough. "You are being too obv-"

"Ayato, stop." You spoke firmly, freezing him in his place. "I'm still talking to you." You approached him, his back still turned to you.

Slowly, he turned around to face you, his eyes held an unfit expression for him, almost like nervousness. "Y/N, let's not do this now…"

"Do you still want to be with me?" You asked impulsively, stripping the formalities and simply talking to the man you knew as your lover. Your eyes fill with tears, looking at him being lost for words. You hoped his answer would be immediate, that he would exclaim that why would you even ask such a question.

As you stood there, "Lord Kamisato, come along, don't let the servant keep all of our time." The guest came back, standing beside Ayato, who had yet to say anything.

No words were spoken, but the Commissioner knew that right there, right in front of the unknowing guest, in your watery gaze, he had a choice to make.

"Why don't you get us some tea in the meantime?" The guest spoke up again referring to you, but you have no intention of moving until your lover finally speaks up.

With a gulp, Ayato stood his ground. "Yes, please prepare us some tea, Y/N. No more of your nonsense."

A single tear, that's what you allowed for him to see as you nodded silently. But as you prepared the tea, your vision was blurry from the neverending tears, your sobs couldn't be controlled as you struggle to catch your breath.

But you needed that, you needed that to remind yourself that you are merely a servant.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

The Yashiro Commissioner sat on his bed that night, looking at the door to his room. His heart was beating fast, hoping for it to open and show the figure of his lover, though the odds are against his desires.

He hoped that maybe you'd spare him a chance, that you'd walk into the room and tell him that you'll allow him to show you how you much he truly loves you.

The door remains close. And so does his heart begin to ache. Ayato didn't sleep that night, he merely lied down and looked up at the ceiling, trying to imagine your warmth embracing him, trying to make it seem like your side of the bed wasn't left cold.

…

"My Lord…" His eyes looked up from the document he's been staring it for the past hour when he heard your voice… calling him in such a cold manner. You said nothing more, placing a tray of tea and pastries on an empty spot on his desk.

"Ahh, thank you…" Ayato looked at your face, hoping to see your usual smile whenever you served him his afternoon tea, yet your face held nothing but a blank expression. You merely bowed at him, before leaving without another word.

Your name was at the tip of his tongue, and his entire being screamed at him to just say it. He wanted desperately to call for your attention, but, though he did not want to admit it… he was scared…

You stopped in your tracks, remembering something that you had to discuss with him. Ayato, ever so perceptive of your actions, perked up.

"You have a meeting with the head of the Tenryou Commission later at noon, something about an agreement with regards to your relation with his daughter." You did not bother to face him to give him the reminder, opting to walk away once you finished your sentence.

The Yashiro Commissioner's face fell as he watched you leave the room, his heart still heavy, and his mind cursing at him for not having the guts to talk to you properly.

…

The pain felt more real once he entered his room for the night.

The place has been wiped clean of your existence, the covers have been changed so not even your scent lingered, some of the clothes you kept in his closet are gone, the vase of flowers you like to decorate his nightstand with is gone…

The framed picture of the two of you that sat on his nightstand is gone…

It felt suffocating…

With a sigh, Ayato closed the door, not wanting to see such a sad space, he instead went back to his office.

As he sat on his chair, he opened one of the drawers of his desk…

A smiled couldn't help but form on his face, a bittersweet one, when he saw the picture of you that he kept there a long time ago.

He laid his head on his arms on the desk, your picture next to his face. He figures that it was the only way he can sleep without feeling the suffocating emptiness of his room weighing upon him.

…

Today is the day the festival you were so excited about starts, and it's already been arranged for quite a while that today is your day-off. "…Y/N was really hoping that I'd join her at the festival." Half of

Thoma's words were muffled, but he could make out your name and the festival.

The blond retainer was asking for a day-off as well, to go with you.

Something uncomfortable boiled in Ayato's core, you asked him to join you back then, and he said that he couldn't. Yet, all he wishes now was to accompany you, to be by your side and not have to think about keeping your relationship a secret.

"With Y/N…?" Ayato asked, his voice laced with disappointment that did not escape his retainer's ears.

"Is something the matter, my Lord?"

Truly did his entire being want to disapprove of Thoma's request, he wants to go to you and offer to go with you himself.

"No, I'm quite alright, Thoma…" The Yashiro Commissioner heaved a sigh. "I'll allow your request."

You spent your day at the festival with Thoma, and it was obvious that you enjoyed it given the large smile that was plastered when you got back to the estate.

Meanwhile, Ayato spent his day at his desk, looking at meaningless paperwork while dreaming of being hand-in-hand with you at the festival, imagining that you would eat your heart out with all the streetfood available, watch the firework show when nighttime falls, and dance slowly at the festival music at midnight when everyone else already left.

That night though, he approaches you, his heart pounding when he caught your attention. "May I… ask you to sleep next to me again?"

He was tired, he could only take a week of sleeping in his office because his room haunted him too much. Unfortunately for him, he doesn't know how to even start explaining himself, doesn't know how to win you back, to say that he does choose you over any form of nobility that he has.

You smiled at him… emptily.

"I'm your servant, my lord. If you wish for me to, I will."

So you did, you slept next to him, he hugged you tightly, snuggling you up to his chest, yet you refused to hug back, to nuzzle in his embrace like you used to. You merely did as you were requested.

Ayato tried to ignore the tightening of his heart just before sleep and exhausted took over him.

But he couldn't ignore the chill he felt when he woke up hugging nothing. It's just as it should be, the servant listened to her lord, and now she left to do her other tasks.

It was crazy to hope a relationship like yours could work out. Kamisato Ayato felt a few tears fall from his eyes, now, he wished for you to stay.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Yo, it's 3am and I'm gonna sleep now.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact #genshin impact angst #genshin angst #genshin imagines #genshin impact ayato #kamisato ayato x reader #ayato angst #genshin ayato

[tinyowlthoughts]

Humans are Space Orcs - Chocolate

"Ugh, I would kill for some chocolate right now."

Gorvan fumbled the holopad he'd been typing on, all four hands brushing against the screen as he tried to keep it from hitting the ship floor. He failed and it bounced off the tiles - thankfully neither breaking, nor denting the flooring. Grimacing, he swept it up with his tail and checked over the casing, before the alarming words registered in his head. A glance at the couch showed the human - Max - hadn't moved - still twisted up in their weird, pretzely way, chin in their weird five-fingered hand as they peered at the passing stars with a far-away look in their eyes.

"You, uh, want...chocolate?" He asked, certain he'd misheard.

"Oh my god, yes." Max heaved a sigh, shoulders rising to their weird, inefficient ears before dropping back down. "Jesus, I'd even eat a Hershey's Bar right now."

Gorvan gripped his tablet with two of his hands, hard enough to crack the casing. "Oh, um - what is a 'Hershey'?"

Max didn't look away from the window, still lost gazing into the galaxy. "It's a type of chocolate bar from Earth. Maybe a Mars Bar or a Milky Way would be better..."

Gorvan huffed through his nostrils, tail lashing anxiously behind him. "Oh. Um. I - er, I forgot I have a meeting with Captain! I have to go." Without waiting for an answer he turned and fled the recreation room, hooved feet clattering against the floor, desperate to report what he had heard. He missed the bemused look Max gave him before returning to his star gazing.

🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫

"Max."

The human paused upon entering the meeting room, seeing the rest of the C7H8N4O2 Star Explorer gathered around the table. All eight were tense in their seats, and the moth-like Elaana looked like she'd been crying. (Well, the species equivalent, which appeared as a dusting of pollen along her sharp cheekbones.)

Taurvin, the captain, was sitting in the largest seat at the head of the table, his considerable bulk looming over the rest of them. Oddly, the first-mate seat to his left was empty. Gorvan was instead sitting in Max's own.

"Uh, hey all. We playing musical chairs?" Max glanced between the empty chair and Gorvan, but when nobody asked for an explanation to their odd human reference (a common occurrence), they figured it wasn't the time for jokes.

"Have a seat, Max." Taurvin motioned to the first mate seat and, with a bit of hesitation, Max moved to take it. Luckily Gorvan, despite being bulky himself, wasn't too much larger than a standard human and the chair was comfortable enough. "We have something important to address."

Oh god above, what had they done this time? Max tried to think back to all the interactions he'd had onboard the last few weeks, but couldn't come up with anything too egregious. Sure, there was the whole joke with 'human snot is acidic' thing but that had been more of a gross-out joke for Elaana, the ships medic, who hadn't seemed to upset when he accidentally sneezed on her a few days later and dropped the act. Epitak, the ships engineer, had been pretty pissed when ze found out Max had taken apart the air filtration unit in their quarters to try and understand how it worked, but ze had also walked him through repairing it, so they thought it was all forgiven.

Oh jeeze, had they found the plans to get a kitten onboard under the 'emotional assistance animal' loophole?

"Max." Taurvin's normally jolly voice was grave, and all the crews eyes were on them as he spoke. "It has come to my attention that you have been expressing some...troubling thoughts."

Okay, definitely the kitten thing then. "Look, I can explain," they started, but Taurvin held up a large, three-fingered hand and stopped them.

"I do not want you to feel pressured to speak to us if you do not wish to. As a member of the Intergalactic Exploration Society, you have access to mental health resources at no cost, any time, anywhere. I will be more than happy to assist you in setting up a link to a therapist through HR and, if required, will grant you time off the ship if you need it. You are the best navigator I have ever seen, and I do not want to lose you."

"Well, thanks, but uh, what do you mean?" Max glanced around the table and noticed that their normally upbeat crew were all showing signs of distress (Elaana was brushing away newly fallen pollen from her compound eyes).

"Max, you requested chocolate." Gorvan reminded them. "This morning, you said you would even eat a substance known as a Hershey Bar from your home planet." The human had never heard the first mate sound so distressed. When Max just blinked, Epitak took over, beak clacking anxiously as ze spoke.

"We understand that many planets have government programs in place for self euthanasia," ze explained, technical as always in his word choice, "but we aboard this ship would much rather assist you in healing rather than lose you, despite what you may feel is best for you. Suicide by theobromine is not the way forward."

"...what."

"It's okay, love!" The pollen was flowing freely from Elaana's eyes now, and she blinked it away with her long lashes. If there weren't a table between them, Max was sure she would have bundled them up in a full-wing hug and refused to let them go. "We'll support you through it all, we promise. You're part of our crew - our family, and we never want you to feel otherwise!"

"Well, uh, thanks. I see you all as family too...?" Max glanced at the four remaining crew members. Dhaca and Lenzoill were quiet but obviously upset, Qhals was staring at the ceiling with their fanged muzzle pulled into a tight grimace, and Ir'ith was -

Ir'ith was smirking.

Max narrowed their eyes at the inventory manager who also served as the ships cook (for the simple fact that he was the only one onboard who could cook). The zad merely shrugged when their eyes met, though his grin was growing.

"I think I'm missing something here." Max admitted, looking between Gorvan and Taurvin. "This is all because I got a chocolate craving?"

"A craving?" Elaana almost lunged across the table at the word, the only thing holder her back Ir'ith's hand on her shoulder. "You mean you've had chocolate before?"

"Well, yeah? All the time." Max was not expecting the horrified expressions they received.

"So humans treat theobromine as a drug?" Epitak asked, aghast.

"Noooo...? It's a dessert. Like, a sweet treat." Max had no idea what was going on now, but by the way Ir'ith's shoulders were shaking, he did. "Hershey's is a candy bar."

"Wait," Dhaca finally spoke up, leaning forward and shoving his glasses (well, glass - one lens for one eye and all) to the top of his head, "theobromine is not toxic to humans?"

"I'm assuming that theo-stuff is chocolate?" When Dhaca nodded, Max nodded in return. "Yeah, no, chocolate isn't toxic to humans. I ate it all the time on Earth."

Ir'ith gave up and cackled, sounding a bit like the grackles Max used to watch in their back garden on Earth. The avian's wings flapped a few times as he laughed, having to lean forward and grasp his stomach with taloned claws to keep himself from falling out of his chair. When he finally glanced up at Max, it was to the flattest look the human could manage, which only sent him into another gale of laughter.

Taurvin sighed, pinching the bridge of his boar-like snout. "I believe this has all been a misunderstanding," he spoke over the cooks laughter, which had turned into squeaky gasps. "Dismissed."

A few befuddled glances were thrown Max's way, but the rest of the crew were quick to leave, avoiding Ir'ith's flapping wings as they squeezed out of the room. Soon only the cook, first mate, captain, and navigator were left.

"Sorry, kid." Ir'ith finally came up for breath, wiping at his eyes as he regained his composure. He fished into one of the many pockets that adorned his poncho and produced a bar wrapped in purple foil, which he tossed to Max. The human caught it and felt their whole face light up. "No hard feelings, right?"

"None at all, dude!" Max tore open the wrapping and took a big bite of the Cadbury Dairy Milk Bar, nearly melting at the familiar, sweet flavor exploding on their tongue.

"For the record," Ir'ith said as he stood, cracking his back, "Zad's can eat chocolate to. Let me know next time you have a craving." He sauntered out of the room, humming happily.

The three sat in silence for a moment, other than the crinkle of the chocolate bar wrapper. Finally, Taurvin cleared his throat.

"Max, I apologize for not conferring with you in private beforehand." The captain sighed. "I did not wish to embarrass you, but an intervention was suggested and I believed that comfort from your crew would be the best way to show the seriousness of our support were you truly entertaining the thought of self euthanasia."

The human shrugged. "It was nice to hear you all care about me, even though I've only been on board a few months," they admitted. "And I got chocolate out of it." He wiggled the remains of the bar.

"Still, if you ever feel the need for mental health services, they are available to you. And if there is ever anything I or the rest of the crew can do to assist you in that way, please don't hesitate to ask." Taurvin placed a hand on his chest and bowed his head, a show of sincerity for his people.

"Well," Max tapped the chocolate against their chin in thought, "there may be one thing. Have you ever heard of cats?"

Next: Bluffing

Original Reddit Prompt:

#humans are space orcs #writing #blurb #The EC Theobromine

[solarmorrigan]

Hands Where I Can See Them, Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

The only thing Eddie is dreading as much as Steve’s return for his things is Wayne’s inevitable question about where Steve is at all.

After all, Steve has practically been living with them for weeks – something that Eddie may not have allowed himself to consider the significance of, but which Wayne cannot have failed to notice. Though Steve had (apparently) felt the need to do things around the trailer to stay in Wayne’s good graces, he really didn’t have to worry about it; Wayne likes him, and he’ll be asking sooner or later just where Steve has gone.

‘Sooner’ comes two nights after Eddie royally fucks things over. It’s Wayne’s night off, and there’s really no avoiding him; their new trailer is bigger than the last, but it’s still close quarters, and Eddie gets caught when he passes through the living room to get a drink from the kitchen.

“Noticed Steve isn’t here tonight,” Wayne says, blunt as hell, because he doesn’t see the point in doing things any other way.

“Nope,” Eddie says shortly, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and filling it from the tap.

“Wasn’t here last night, either,” Wayne goes on.

“He was not,” Eddie confirms.

“Wasn’t here when I got in yesterday morning,” Wayne says.

“You are a veritable font of observation tonight,” Eddie says, only a little snarky.

Wayne shrugs. “Hard not to notice when he’s here nine days out of ten, then suddenly up and disappears,” he says. He pauses a moment before adding, “Stuff’s gone from the bathroom, too.”

Eddie occupies himself with slowly swallowing down half his glass of water before he answers. “Yeah.”

“Don’t suppose he’s going on a trip,” Wayne doesn’t quite ask, and Eddie lets out a bitter sort of laugh.

“Loving the optimism from you, but no, not… not so much.”

There are a few beats of silence, and then Wayne lets out a slow sigh. Eddie knows him well enough to understand the sound of it – he’s just decided to get involved.

“You two have a fight?”

“Something like that,” Eddie mutters.

“Well that’s vague as hell, son. You have a fight, or didn’t you?” Wayne prods.

Slowly, Eddie shakes his head. “No, I– I don’t think so. I think it was all me,” he says, finally looking up from his glass and meeting Wayne’s questioning gaze. “I fucked up, Wayne.”

There’s no immediate judgement coming from Wayne, no suspicion or scorn, not even a shake of the head and some variation of “Of course you did.” There’s only a measured sort of curiosity in his stare, the same way it’s been since Eddie was a kid and Wayne was trying to figure him out; it’s sort of comforting in its familiarity, in its neutrality.

“You wanna tell me about it?” Wayne asks.

Eddie knows that if he says no, Wayne will let it go. He might keep sending curious and worried looks Eddie’s way, he might ask a few more prodding questions over the next few days, but he won’t make Eddie say anything he doesn’t want to. And Eddie doesn’t really want to – but he thinks that maybe he needs to.

“If… you had to define mine and Steve’s relationship, what would you say?” Eddie asks after a moment.

Wayne cocks an eyebrow at him. “I’d say that feels like a trick question.”

Eddie lets out a little huff of a laugh. “It’s not, I swear. I’m seriously curious,” he says. “There are no wrong answers – go.”

“Well,” Wayne says, still eyeing Eddie consideringly, “I don’t know if you kids put labels on things these days or what, but from the outside, I’d say you’re dating. I’d say that boy is fully in love with you and that you’re at least halfway to loving him back.”

“Right.” Eddie gives a jerky nod. “Seems like that’s what pretty much everyone thinks.”

“But that’s not what’s going on,” Wayne takes a guess.

“Well, that depends on your perspective,” Eddie says, a little high and tight.

“Well, the only perspectives worth a damn here’re yours’n Steve’s,” Wayne shoots back. “So what would those be?”

Eddie drains the last of his water, turning away to put the glass in the sink. “Steve… shares your perspective. Or, uh– he did. But I… I didn’t realize he was so serious. I thought we were just kind of messing around.”

The silence from behind Eddie is so thick that he can’t help but finally turn around and meet Wayne’s gaze again.

“That’s a hell of a blind spot, Ed,” Wayne says simply, and Eddie folds in on himself a bit, crossing his arms over his chest. His main defense has always been to become larger than life – to make big gestures and even bigger speeches, but everything about this situation makes him feel like nothing so much as small.

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

“So, what, you figured out how serious he was and thought you didn’t want that?” Wayne asks, and Eddie hunches a little further in on himself.

“Nope. No, that– would’ve been better, actually. If that’s what happened. But that’s not what happened, because did I mention I fucked up? Because I seriously fucked up.” Eddie’s rambling is stemmed by an expectant look from Wayne. “It’s just – the other night, when the guys were over, we got to talking about it. The whole… me and Steve thing. As in, they thought me and Steve were a thing. And they asked me about it. While Steve was out of the room. And then he, uh. Hm.” Eddie rubs a hand nervously over his chin. “He walked back in when I was in the middle of telling them that he's just a friend and that we’re just having fun. And that’s… when I found out how serious he was.”

“Eddie…”

“I know. I know!” Eddie doesn’t even have to look at Wayne to catch the disappointment coming off of him, so he doesn’t. He scrubs hands over his face and then just leaves him there, telling the rest of the story to his palms. “He was so fucking upset, Wayne, I think– I think I actually made him cry? And the only reason he hasn’t been here to get the rest of his stuff out of the trailer yet is because he was down with a migraine the next day. Like, I hurt him so badly I made him physically ill. So I didn’t just fuck up, but I’m actually a horrible human being and should probably spend the rest of my days living in isolation so I don’t ruin anyone else’s life.”

Wayne is silent for so long that Eddie is eventually forced to peek out from behind his fingers.

“You’re not gonna tell me how bad I fucked up?” Eddie asks, still a bit muffled.

“Seems like you have that covered already,” Wayne says, then he holds up one arm in offer, nodding towards the empty spot beside him on the couch. “C’mere.”

He doesn’t need to ask Eddie twice. No matter how old he gets, Eddie doesn’t think a genuine hug from his uncle will ever stop being comforting, and regardless of whether or not he thinks he actually deserves it right now, he’s going to take it. He crashes down onto the couch and leans heavily into Wayne’s side, sighing as Wayne wraps his arm around his shoulders.

“You’re not a bad person, Ed. You made a mistake, s’all,” Wayne says, and Eddie scoffs.

“Pretty big fucking mistake,” he mutters.

“Yep, that was a doozy. You hurt someone you care about, and you might not be able to fix it all the way. But that doesn’t make you terrible. Makes you human.” Wayne gives Eddie a comforting squeeze. “And Steve ain’t a bad person, either. He’ll know you mean it when you tell him you’re sorry.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says quietly.

“You think about what you’re gonna do when he does show to get the rest of his stuff?” Wayne asks.

“Besides grovel?” Eddie shoots back.

“I mean, what’re you gonna grovel for?”

Eddie lets out a long breath. “I… I know I might not be able to fix it, but I just – I want the chance to try. I’m hoping he’ll just give me that chance.” Eddie pauses for a moment, choked by the dread of the thought that Steve might not give him that chance. “Things don’t have to go back to the way they were, but I at least want him to know that even if I’m shit at showing it, I do care.”

“Sounds like a decent place to start,” Wayne says.

“Think so?” Eddie asks.

“Mm.”

“Well… I hope Steve thinks so, too.”

Wayne gives his shoulders another squeeze and says nothing more, but he doesn’t really have to. He’s already settled Eddie’s nerves more than he’d thought possible; just this is more than enough.

Now Eddie just has to try to hold onto the feeling long enough to talk to Steve.

-

It turns out, Eddie doesn’t have to hold onto the feeling for very long at all; the very next morning—two days after Robin had read Eddie the riot act and left him to begin tentatively planning—another knock comes at the door.

It’s ten in the morning – not as early as Eddie had expected, but early enough that he’s not long out of bed when he opens the door to find Steve on the other side.

In contrast to Eddie’s sweatpants and t-shirt, Steve looks like he’s trying very hard to look like he’s alright. His polo is clean and tucked in, the collar is straight, his hair is as perfectly styled as ever – but there’s still something off. There are dark circles under his eyes, stark against a paler than normal complexion, and none of the ease or contentment that Eddie has grown used to shines from his face. He feels a little like he wants to mourn its absence.

“Hey,” Steve says, nodding in greeting.

“Hey,” Eddie says back, because for all his thoughts and planning, he hadn’t really considered how to start this encounter.

“I came to get my shit out of your way,” Steve says, and Eddie frowns.

It’s not in my way, he wants to say. You’re not in my way. Leave your stuff. Stay.

“Uh. Yeah, sure,” Eddie says instead, stepping aside to let Steve in.

Steve is carrying a cardboard box, but doesn’t seem to have anything or anyone else in tow. For as spread throughout Eddie’s life as Steve has become, he wonders if all of him will fit into that one box.

“Kinda surprised you didn’t bring Buckley to help pack,” Eddie says, glancing back out the screen door, as if Robin might appear out of nowhere.

“Just dropped her off at work,” Steve says. “I figured she probably already had… words for you when she picked up my meds, and I didn’t think any of us needed an encore.”

“I don’t know,” Eddie says quietly. “The stuff she said got me thinking.”

In the process of grabbing a jacket he’d left behind off one of the hooks by the door, Steve only glances back at Eddie. “I’m sure she had a lot to say,” he says, carefully neutral.

“Yeah. She, uh – definitely did. Can we talk?” Eddie asks.

Steve sighs. “Eddie…”

“Just hear me out, please. Then I’ll get out of your way and let you pack in peace, I promise,” Eddie says.

“We don’t– have to talk about it,” Steve says, turning back to face Eddie. “Look, I’m sorry for putting my weird expectations on you. I was reading into stuff that wasn’t there, and I made assumptions instead of just talking to you, and that’s on me. So I’m gonna just – get out of your hair, and you won’t have to deal with my stupid, delusional bullshit anymore.”

“No, that’s not– Steve–” Eddie reaches out for Steve as he tries to brush past on his way to the bedroom, where most of his belongings are. He gets a hand around Steve’s bicep and, though Steve doesn’t jerk away this time, he goes stiff and still beneath Eddie’s touch, prompting Eddie to let go.

It hurts; even though Eddie’s done it to himself, the reaction still hurts. He’s always reached for Steve in the past, always had his hands on him, and Steve had always welcomed him, even before they’d started sleeping together. Now, Eddie takes a step back, forcing himself to give Steve some space.

“That’s not what I want to say at all,” he says. “I mean – I would’ve liked if we’d talked about it, because then I would’ve known, and I could’ve appreciated what it was – what we were doing.”

Steve turns back to face Eddie, his gaze snapping straight to him with equal suspicion and confusion. “What?”

“Steve, you weren’t reading into things that weren’t there, you’re not– you’re not stupid or delusional, I was just – I was sending you mixed signals,” Eddie says. “I was so wrapped up in thinking that I knew what was going on, that I didn’t look at what I really had, and I’m sorry. But if I knew, if I’d just gotten my head out of my ass, you have to believe that in a heartbeat, I would have–”

“Don’t,” Steve cuts in sharply.

“Steve–”

“I don’t need whatever this is, Eddie,” Steve snaps. “You don’t need to have pity on your pathetic ex-whatever I am to you, okay? It’s okay, just– just let it go.”

“This isn’t pity,” Eddie insists with an incredulous little laugh. “It’s fucking not, I swear! This is me saying that I fucked up and I hurt you and I want to make it up to you. I haven’t done anything to deserve it, but I want the chance to show you how sorry I am and how much you mean to me– in whatever capacity you’ll let me.”

“Whatever capacity?” Steve stares at him, brows furrowed.

“Whatever you’ll be comfortable with. As a friend, or… as more, if that bridge hasn’t burned,” Eddie says.

“What, so now I’m relationship material?” Steve asks, pointed.

Eddie winces. “I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have said any of that, and if I could go back in time and slap myself upside the head before I let any of that shit out and hurt you with it, I would. I know that… I know I didn’t pay enough attention to you, but I also wasn’t paying very much attention to how I was feeling,” he says. “Because honestly? I’m kind of a moron, Steve. I’ve never had sex with someone I really liked, with someone who was anything like a friend, and when I started wanting to be around you all the time, and always wanting you within reach, and when every little thing started to remind me of you, I just thought… yeah, this is what friends-with-benefits feels like. Y’know, like a fucking idiot.”

Steve doesn’t laugh. “I don’t know if I can trust you on that,” he says softly, and that’s fair.

It hurts, but it’s fair.

“Then let me earn your trust back. Please, Steve, just… give me the chance,” Eddie implores, doesn’t even care that he’s basically begging – Eddie doesn’t beg, but for Steve, he’ll make an exception. For Steve, he thinks he’ll do just about anything.

Pursing his lips, Steve looks at the floor beside Eddie’s feet for a long moment, and Eddie gives him the time to sort his thoughts out.

“I want to say yes. Part of me just wants to accept your apology and pretend that none of this happened. Just keep going the way we were,” he says. “But I can’t keep doing that – ignoring shit. I just… can’t.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Eddie says. “I don’t want things to be like they were before, I want – I want to be better. I want to do better.”

“How?” Steve asks, both challenging and curious.

“I want to do it right. I want to show you how much I appreciate you, and how much you mean to me. I want to treat you like you deserve to be treated,” Eddie insists. “And if that’s just by being the best friend I can be, then that’s what I’ll do, but I would love—love—if you’d let me romance you.”

That briefly breaks through Steve’s stony façade, and he lets out a huff of a laugh. “Romance me?”

“Shit, yeah. Flowers and chocolates and candle-lit dates – the whole nine yards,” Eddie says with a slow grin. “All the things you’ve given other people but that no one has ever given you.”

“I…” Steve starts, his own humor fading quickly. “I don’t know.”

It’s better than an outright ‘no.’

“That’s okay,” Eddie promises. “You don’t have to know right now. I can wait. I’m a patient kinda guy.”

(That’s an absolute lie, and they both know it, but Eddie will find all the patience in the world if Steve needs time to think.)

Slowly, Steve nods. “I think… Just, give it a couple of weeks, okay? Really think about it, and if this – if I’m something you still want by then, come talk to me again,” he says. “Alright?”

“Yeah.” Eddie nods rapidly. “As much time as you want. I’m not going to up and change my mind. Two weeks, I’ll ask again.”

Steve shrugs, taking a step back towards the bedroom.

“I will,” Eddie promises – not defensive, but certain. He can wait two weeks. He can wait as long as Steve needs him to. Maybe he can take the time to get his shit together.

He does care about Steve. He does pay attention – and he’s going to prove it.

But in the meantime, the only thing Steve has asked for is space, so Eddie gives it to him. He retreats to the kitchen to let Steve pack up in peace, trying hard not to feel bereft at the thought of the gaps Steve will be leaving behind.

If he’s lucky—if he’s very, very lucky—it won’t be forever.

Part 5

-

Tag List (drop me a line if you want on or off the ride): @bushbees @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @gleek4twd @hellfireone @westifer-dead @anne-bennett-cosplayer @starman-jpg @mugloversonly @swimmingbirdrunningrock @alycatavatar @y4r3luv @rhapsodyinalto @vinteraltus @lilpomelito @tillystealeaves @noctxrn-e

I did my best to catch everyone, but there were a few people Tumblr wouldn't let me tag. Sorry if I missed you!

#steddie #eddie & wayne #eddie munson #wayne munson #steve harrington #stranger things #eddiesteve #solar wrote #I write wayne once a year so here's my annual allotted amount I guess #listen you know I love hurt/comfort and I love happy endings but one thing you should never expect from me is consistent chapter lengths #things happen as they happen!

[2btheanswertothequestion]

Eddie's porn stash is a pretty conventional one. An 'if you've seen one stash you've seen them all' type. It basically only consists of skin mags, some of them kinky but most of them vanilla. Normal stuff.

The oddest thing in it is a two-year-old calendar. You know those sexy firefighter calendars? Usually a charity thing? A hit with the housewife crowd? Yeah. Except this calendar decided to branch out and include a bunch of sexy men from a bunch of sexy professions.

So, in this thing, joining the sexy firefighter is a sexy doctor, a sexy construction worker, a sexy police officer (whose month Eddie tore out and burned because fuck cops but don't ever fuck cops), a sexy librarian, and so on. They're all really good-looking, but none of them hold a candle to the paramedic.

It's weird. Paramedics aren't normally part of the traditionally sexy professions. It's messy and sometimes tragic, but lacks the high-paying glamour that doctors and nurses enjoy. Eddie's had his fair share of fantasies, and none of them involved fucking a paramedic.

Until two years ago.

The guy in the calendar simply is that hot.

There's not even anything risqué about his picture. None of the pictures go beyond "this dude is chiseled and shirtless", because veering even slightly past the softest softcore territory would scare off the little housewives or something.

(Eddie is actually pretty fucking sure it'd increase the sales, but hey, what does he know.)

The point is, there's nothing that obscene about the pic. Just a guy kneeling in the back of an ambulance, first aid equipment scattered between his powerful thighs, shirt open to reveal his sculpted torso…

Dark hair spanning across his pecs, over his abs, vanishing down his tight tight tight pants. Hips canting upward, bringing attention to the size of his bulge beneath the zipper. Broad shoulders, ripped arms and large hands, veins protruding across the back. A pretty yet masculine face, with a strong jaw and a straight nose, full lips, a smattering of moles going down his biteable neck. Voluminous, golden brown hair swooped away from his twinkling eyes.

He's got this look in them, this slant to his mouth. Like he knows he's the hottest guy in the calendar.

The one month everyone will go crazy for.

Eddie has become intimately familiar with that look. No joke, in two years it's made him crack his marbles more than anyone else has done in his quarter-century lifetime. When all else fails, November-paramedic has his back. It's basically his longest relationship to date, which sounds a lot sadder out loud (and it sounded fucking sad inside his head, too).

You might wonder why any of that is relevant now, as he sits on the curb outside of The Behemoth with blood trickling from his temple, his band giving their statements to one cop while another hauls away the snarling douchebag that clipped him. How does it play a part in this god-awful night out, you ask?

Well.

"Sir?"

Eddie startles, too caught up in the thudding inside his head, made worse by the buzzing crowd, to notice the man approaching him. He looks up, his gaze gliding past uniformed legs, muscular forearms, a curved neck and honeyed eyes appraising Eddie, and oh.

Oh God.

Eddie's breath sticks in his chest and his tongue becomes a cognate to sandpaper, because it's the paramedic.

It's the paramedic. From the calendar.

He's hallucinating. He has to be. He collapsed on the sidewalk, and now he's having one last weird sex dream before his brain finishes seeping out and he fucking dies.

November-paramedic crouches in front of him. Eddie continues to gape like he's getting ready to catch the peanuts no one is tossing at him.

"My name is Steve. I'm with the ambulance," November-paramedic says. "What's your name?"

Eddie makes a noise incomprehensible to most Earth cultures before his brain registers the meaning of the question and stutters out the answer.

"I- Uh- E-Eddie. It's, it's Eddie."

November-paramedic – Steve – smiles kindly. Heat prickles across Eddie's cheeks and neck. It's not the same as the cocky, sexy smile he's got in the calendar, but still. He's smiling. At Eddie!

"Hi, Eddie." He nods toward Eddie's temple. "That's an impressive cut you got there. May I take a look at it?"

"Yeah? Yeah. Um, g-go ahead."

As Steve sets down his bag and rummages through it, Eddie scours his face to confirm that it really is the guy from the calendar. To his chagrin, it is. There's no mistaking it. Those eyes, like liquid gold. That jawline, a weapon in its own right. Those moles, applied so skillfully it must've been by an artist's hand. That hair, coming straight out of a commercial for luxury shampoo. It's lying flatter than in the calendar, either lacking product or having sweated it out, but it's still glorious.

Steve, having finished washing his hands, tugs on a pair of disposable gloves. The plastic snaps against his wrist, sending a shiver through Eddie. It centers between his legs. Shit, if he pops a boner now…

"I'm going to ask you some questions, okay?" Steve says while pressing a square piece of gauze against the cut. "Do you know what day it is?"

"Eh, Thursday?"

"Do you know where you are?"

"The Behemoth."

Steve nods and, with a lopsided smile, asks, "And are you a patron or did you and your head injury just wander onto the scene?"

Eddie laughs. Loud, merry, and verging on too long. It wasn't even that funny. Steve seems pleased his joke was a success, though. Unless his smile is the uncomfortable kind that one wears when faced with the unhinged. Eddie isn't sure how much blood he's lost.

"No, I, like, my band…" he says, stammering like talking isn't what he does best. Jesus Christ, it's just a hot guy! Eddie has made a fool of himself in front of those plenty of times – no need to get flustered about it. He clears his throat. "We had a gig and, after, at the bar, some guys got into a fight. Got ugly, so we tried to leave, but… alas!" He makes a dramatic sweep of his arm, nearly clocking Steve. Steve expertly ducks away without lessening the pressure on the wound. Eddie soldiers on, not daring to pause lest he lose his steam. Hopefully his burning face is enough of an apology. "Fucker wasn't even aiming for me. He missed his intended target and struck me instead."

"Right. Did you lose consciousness after he hit you?"

"Nope."

"Good. Did you drink tonight?"

"Half a beer, at most."

"Do-"

"Eddie!"

Gareth's nasally voice cuts off Steve's question. The next second, he's materialized beside them with a slightly alarmed expression. "Dude, are you…!"

He trails off, eyes growing into dinner plates. There isn't that much blood, is there?

Steve looks Gareth up and down, a crease between his brows. "Is this your friend?"

"My drummer. Gareth."

Eddie half-expects Steve to demand Gareth leaves so he can do his job in peace, but nope. That kind, calm smile is back. He even gives him one of those little upward-nods 'cool guys' like to do.

"What's up, Gareth? I'm Steve; I'm with the ambulance. Just making sure Eddie won't keel over later tonight."

"Uh huh…" Gareth kneels opposite Steve. He's smiling too, but his is shit eating. Eddie frowns in confusion, because what does Gareth have to be happy about? He was freaking out right after Eddie got hit, but now he's staring at Steve like-

Oh.

He's staring at Steve.

No. Noooooooooo! Oh shit! Oh fuck! Oh why, why has he kept his porn stash in a drawer without a lock all these years?! He can't recollect the reason Gareth opened that particular drawer on that particular day – all Eddie remembers is how Gareth, Jeff, and Marv snickered when he explained the inclusion of the calendar.

That was it, though. They moved on. Sure, there has been the occasional roasting after the fact, but it's not like he hasn't also mocked them for their weird shit. But that's not the point. The point is that Gareth is staring at Steve like he recognizes him.

Gareth's attention flicks toward Eddie. Eddie shakes his head as subtly yet pleadingly as he can. Gareth's grin gobbles down another turd. Eddie makes a valiant effort to explode Gareth's eyeballs with his mind.

"Say…" Gareth turns to Steve. "Have we met?"

"I don't think so. Eddie, do you have a headache?"

"Yeah, man," Eddie says, voice trembling. "Hurts like hell."

"I could've sworn I've seen your face before," Gareth says. "Like, I'm 100% sure."

"Are you dizzy or nauseous?" Steve asks, ignoring Gareth.

"Um, a little dizzy but no nausea?"

"Hmm, okay. Blurred vision or uneven numbness?"

"No."

Steve nods, glancing at his watch. Then, to Eddie’s dismay, he looks at Gareth. "I've never been to this bar before."

"Nono, not here. Somewhere else…"

Steve's lips purse and his brows knit into the most adorable thinking-face Eddie has ever seen. His heart skips a beat, then skips two more as Steve's free hand gently cups Eddie's cheek. The skin catches fire where Steve's gloved fingertips touch it.

"Let me have a look at your pupils…" Steve says, guiding Eddie's face and, holy shit, leaning in close for a better look.

Eddie gulps, half his blood rushing up and the other half down; he squeezes his legs together to prevent the little guy from saying 'hello' to everyone present. His eyes rove over Steve's face. His lips are chapped and the skin on his nose is dry. The nose itself is somewhat crooked. Did he get into a fight between the calendar photoshoot and now, or did they make the nose straighter for the photo? Why would anyone think it necessary to edit a face like this one? Even with its imperfections mere inches away, it's still the handsomest Eddie has seen.

Steve hums. It's a perfectly preserved vinyl. It's a metal festival. It's Eddie's new favorite song.

"Same size but pretty dilated… Keep your eyes open, please." He shines a tiny flashlight into Eddie's eyes before nodding, satisfied. "All right, looks good."

He leans back out of Eddie's space, returning Eddie's ability to breathe, and removes the gauze. His smile tells Eddie that the bleeding has stopped. As great as it is that he won't hemorrhage to death, it also means their encounter is approaching its end.

"You might've seen me at the university campus?" Steve says, fiddling with some plasters; it takes Eddie's horny brain five full seconds to deduce he's talking to Gareth again.

"No-" Gareth freezes, mouth hanging open. His smugness has evaporated. "Actually, I might have? You're a student?"

Steve chuckles as he patches the last of Eddie's cut. "No, but my friends are. None of them own a car, so I end up driving them everywhere. Right, Eddie, I think you're good to recover at home. Unless you feel like you should head to the hospital?"

Great question! Does he? On the one hand: riding in the ambulance with Steve, ensuring a few additional minutes of his lustrous eyes and smooth voice.

On the other hand: hospital bills.

"… no."

"Okay. Do you have anyone who can keep an eye on you?"

Eddie shakes his head. "I live alone."

"Then maybe Gareth could hang around for the next 48 hours?"

"Sure can," Gareth says without hesitating. Eddie's heart swells with affection for him, despite his (failed! Hah!) plot to mortify Eddie to death.

Steve is already packing his medical bag.

"I want you to rest and avoid stressful situations," he tells Eddie. "No alcohol, no recreational drugs, no driving, and no working until you feel completely recovered. You may take tylenol, but not aspirin or ibuprofen. And if your symptoms worsen or you develop new ones – seek medical attention. Got it?"

The last part is sterner, reminding Eddie of every male authority figure he's strived to disobey during his teenage years. He has no such desire this time.

"Got it."

Steve raises his eyebrows as if to say 'have you really?', and Eddie has to wonder if it's he who seems contrariant and/or stupid enough to ignore the medic or if this is something Steve does with every patient. If it's the former, he mustn't seem that contrariant, because Steve's features soften into trust. He stands, brushing dust off his knees.

"Great. You boys take care now. Have a nice night."

"Yeah, you too, man," Eddie calls after him weakly as he retreats to the blinking ambulance. "Thanks…"

He keeps his gaze on the broad expanse of Steve's back, soaking in the rippling of his muscles as he walks and, oh would you look at that, his ass is as nice as the rest of him. Eddie's been wondering for two years now…

"Dude!"

Eddie jerks toward Gareth. Did he say that out loud? Did he drool? Is his boner showing? But no, Gareth isn't disgusted or disturbed – he's excited.

Shit.

He'll never hear the end of this.

"Don't!" he hisses.

Gareth just laughs, eyes twinkling.

"That was-"

"Don't!"

"I can't believe it!"

"Gareth-"

"You are so red right now!"

"For Jesus fucking Christ's fucking sake-"

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

Dedicated to @rougenancy for always listening to and encouraging my various thoughts, opinions, and ideas (they are constant).

Part 2

AO3

#me combining paramedic!steve with model!steve? it's more likely than you think #no need to tell me i'm a genius – i already know it #steddie #steddie fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #gareth stranger things #it's not important but i named the third guy 'marvin' #because i think he looks like one #this is part one out of [undecided] #i'll be winging it in the middle so that'll be fun #my writing #steddie fic: november paramedic

[augustinewrites]

the first time it happens, bakugou is caught completely off guard and is therefore unable to properly act upon it. 

he’s just gotten off his patrol, groaning loudly as he sinks into his plush desk chair. he still needs to type up his report and go over the notes left by his assistant before he can call it a day, but as he waits for his monitor to boot up, exhaustion creeps over him. 

as a rule, bakugou did not usually nap in order to keep his strict sleep schedule. but after a long week of work, he can’t help but let his eyes drift shut and a yawn escape as he lays his head back. 

that is, of course, when the door to his office opens. and there’s only one person brave enough to open the door without knocking first. “hey.”

“hi,” you smile, stepping inside to place a bottle of water and a pack of electrolytes on his desk. “will i see you at home soon?” 

he glances at his monitor, the clock in the corner reading 4:48pm, twelve minutes before the workday is over. wincing, he rubs his temple. “might still be a while, sorry.”

“do you want me to stay and keep you company?”

it’s a tempting offer, but he shakes his head. “no, ’s alright. just pick up some takeout and i’ll meet you at home soon.” 

“okay,” you agree, but only because you both know that after you grab some takeout, you’ll be right back here to keep him company anyway. “just don’t work yourself too hard, promise?” 

“yeah, yeah,” he mutters, letting you press a kiss to his temple. 

“alright, see you later, pumpkin!” 

bakugou pauses, brows furrowing. “wait–”

you’re already sailing out of the room though, and bakugou slumps back into his chair. you did not just call him, dynamight, pumpkin. that was something people named orange tabbys, not the number two pro with the highest offensive stats on the charts.

_____

he wishes that he could say the first time was the last, but it turns out that pumpkin wasn’t the worst nickname you could bestow upon him. 

you’re just sauntering out of the bedroom when you join him in the kitchen the next morning, freshly showered after his jog and fixing you a cup of coffee. you’re not a person until at least 9am, responding to his good morning, baby with a grumble as presses the mug into your hands.

you wake up a little after you’ve had a few sips, smiling at him over the rim of your mug as you murmur, “thanks, sweetpea.”

bakugou, who’d been gulping down a glass of water, nearly chokes, sputtering, “babe—”

“do you want to make waffles?” you ask, smiling so sweetly at him that he doesn’t have the heart to reprimand you. so he just doesn’t answer right away, wary of any more saccharine sweet nicknames you might fire off. 

“katsuki?”

“yeah, waffles. sure,” he replies stupidly, watching as you nod and begin pulling ingredients from the cupboards, criminally oblivious to the quarter-life crisis he’s having. 

_____

bakugou doesn’t know what’s going on with you. he’s heavily considering a trip to the er, because you must have been hit with some sort of quirk that makes you call him disgustingly corny pet names.

“nice catch, cupcake!” you applaud upon his return to the agency after apprehending a villain. one of the interns starts to laugh, but quickly smothers it when the pro-hero shoots him a withering stare.

“looking good, sugarplum,” you compliment when he’s in the middle of a quick, post-lunch workout in his office. he’d stopped mid curl, almost dropping 50 pounds on his foot. 

“thanks, muffin,” you grin after getting his signature on the report he’d missed earlier in the day. he tells kirishima, who’d been there trying to steal a protein bar from his desk and is starting to laugh, to shut the fuck up or get out.

it wasn’t that he hated pet names (he thought they could be cute). what he hated was being referred to as various pastries that sound like they’d come out of his dad’s cookbook. 

but he could handle it. could handle you because, well, he loved you. and you make sacrifices for those you love, even if it means his friends and fellow pros stop calling him dynamite and start calling him honeycakes instead. besides, you’d get over…whatever kind of phase this was eventually.

and you do. 

“goodnight, lovebug,” you murmur, just as he’s on the precipice of sleep. but he’s wide awake now, sitting up to flick the bedside lamp on.

“how do you just say things like that?” he asks, genuinely bewildered. 

you rub the sleep from your eyes, blinking yourself awake. “like what?”

“the names!” he groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “they’re ridiculous.” 

“they’re not ridiculous,” you huff indignantly as you turn to face him. “they’re cute, like you.” 

“i am not cute,” he scoffs, batting your hand away when you poke his cheeks. “you just— you can’t keep callin’ me shit like cupcake or lovebug. just pick somethin’ else to call me.” 

you’re looking at him with a shit-eating grin on your face, and bakugou feels he’s made a mistake of some kind. “should i call you my love instead?”

heat crawls up his neck as he averts his gaze. “that’s alright.”

you shuffle closer. “yeah? what about…darling?” 

“you can use that, sure,” he shrugs, hoping he doesn’t look as flustered as he feels. 

you’re straddling his lap now, dipping your head down to whisper,

“what if i called you daddy?” 

he freezes, fingers digging into your hips as your teeth graze the shell of his ear. 

you get your answer when he flips you both over so you’re trapped against the mattress, swallowing your gasp with a heated kiss.

BONUS:

you hum contentedly as kirishima places a stack of bills into your waiting palm. “i told you he would break in less than a week.”

the redhead groans loudly, lamenting his empty wallet. “man, i thought he was stronger than this!”

“if i’d called him something like ‘kitten,’ this whole thing would have gone a lot faster,” you muse, shaking your head. 

kirishima, clearly having not learned from his recent loss, suggests, “i’ll buy you lunch for a week if you call him that during the board meeting later.”

“i’ll buy you lunch for two weeks if you do it,” you counter. 

“deal!”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugo katuski x reader #bnha x reader #bakugo fluff

[dreaming-medium]

Stray Kids Kinktober Day 5

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Cockwarming - Felix

Word Count: 5.7k

Summary: End of the quarter reports are due and somehow one of the calculations got messed up; it’s nothing you can’t do by hand. And luckily you have a preppy secretary who will stop at nothing to make sure you’re relaxed.

————————————————————

“Felix, can you bring in my incoming forms, please?” you say into the intercom on your desk. 

“Right away, ma’am.” His deep voice answers you immediately through the speaker. 

Leaning back in your large office chair, you cross one leg over the other and look out of the floor to ceiling windows that line the wall behind your desk. 

Your arms cross over your chest and your bottom lip pulls between your teeth in deep thought. 

Various different items on your to-do list for the day fly through your mind as you stare out over the Seoul skyline.

Partnership approvals, tax forms, time sheets.  

Being the CFO for a large cooperation like this one was never easy. There was never a single day in the office that you weren’t busy. When you think about it, you can’t even remember the last time you took a vacation day.

Once you get this high in the corporate ladder, it’s supposed to get easier, that’s what you thought. It’s what you were told your entire life. But, now that you’re here, you see that it’s the exact opposite.

Every single day is filled to the brim with meetings, phone calls, and business lunches. It’s all chock full of fake smiles and forced laughter. 

You worked your ass off to get to where you were now, and nothing was ever going to change that. Sleep be damned..

A gentle knock sounded through the room.

“Come in,” you call out, turning your chair to face the door.

The door opens and Felix walks in with a large stack of papers in his hands. His crisp white dress shirt is tucked into his navy blue dress pants, a matching tie around his neck. A pair of thick black glasses sat perched on his nose, face framed by long, perfectly kempt, blond hair.

“Your inbox, ma’am,” he says warmly, walking closer to your desk.

“Thank you, Felix.” You motion down to the empty desk in front of you. “You can just place them anywhere.”

He nods and gently places them on an empty spot on the wood.

“Do I have any more meetings for the day?” you ask him, flipping through the papers.

“No, ma’am.”

You run one hand through your hair tiredly. “Good, good.” A beat. “What time is my first meeting tomorrow?”

Felix reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He taps on the screen a few times before speaking up. “Ten o’clock.”

“Really? That’s the best news I’ve gotten all day.” 

“Your 8:30 was rescheduled to the afternoon.”

“Now that makes sense.”

Your eyes tiredly flick over to the time on your desktop. “Jesus, Felix. Weren’t you supposed to leave an hour ago?” 

He shifts his weight on his feet. “Yes, but I don’t leave until you do.”

“I told you that you don’t need to do that.”

“It’s just in case you need me, you know?” A soft blush covers his cheeks, but you pay no mind to it.

“You’re putting these hours on your timesheet, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” You sigh again. “Tomorrow is the day, isn’t it?”

“If you’re referring to the quarterly rebalance, then yes, it is.”

At the end of every quarter, you were in charge of verifying each analyst’s calculations and reading their predictions for the next one before presenting them to the board of directors. 

Every single time you end up staying at the office until the wee hours of the morning.  

Last quarter, you didn’t leave the office until two in the morning. And, like every quarter, Felix stayed with you.

“Well, then,” You put the forms back down on your desk and push your chair away to stand up. “I’m not going to bother with these tonight when I’ll be here until sunrise on Saturday.”

“Should I have your car brought around?”

“If you could, please.”

“Right away, ma’am.”

Felix briskly leaves the room and you roll your head around your sore neck.

“Fuck quarterly rebalances.”

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

Your hand runs over your face for the millionth time in the last four hours. The numbers are starting to blend together at this point. 

The analyses started coming in around 11 AM and since then you just haven’t stopped. 

Line chart after line chart, spreadsheet after spreadsheet, everything looks the same now. 

You’ve been hung up on one single data set. There’s a random spike in it for no reason at all. Why is there a spike in this calculation? 

You cannot move on to the rest of the data until you get over this spike. 

Blindly, you reach over to the phone on your desk and press the intercom button. “Felix,” you say after the beep.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Can you please patch me through to Seo Changbin? There’s no way this spike is correct.”

The sound of typing on a keyboard echoes over the line. 

“Seo Changbin clocked out three hours ago, ma’am. Would you like me to ring his personal phone?”

“Three hours?” you ask incredulously and look down at the time. “Holy shit.” you murmur under your breath.

8:00 PM. It’s 8:00 PM.

“Ma’am?” Felix grabs your attention after a second of waiting. 

You throw your glasses down onto the desk and pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. A headache has been resting behind your eyes all day. 

“No,” you say after a few moments. “No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll just run the numbers myself.”

“Is there anything else I can help you with for now, ma’am?”

You look around the room, the sun is setting over the skyline. A sigh leaves your chest. 

It’s hard to believe you were working for nine straight hours on this. When was the last time you looked up? 

“Have you eaten yet, Felix?” you ask, keeping your eyes outside. 

“No, ma’am.”

“Order whatever you want, make it double. Put it on the corporate card.”

Felix’s deep laugh comes through the intercom. “Right away, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Felix.” 

“My pleasure, ma’am.”

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

Two plus two is four, right? Yes, of course it is. Two plus two has always been four. They wouldn’t just change that suddenly, right?

But you’re so delirious that you still punch it in your calculator. 

“Two plus two...” When the calculator says four, you stare at it. “To be honest, I was expecting something else with how tonight is going.”

Laughing at your own joke, you continue to re-input the numbers into the spreadsheet on your desktop. 

A knock at your door pulls your attention.

“Come in!” you call out without looking up. 

The door clicks open. “Delivery!” Felix’s cheery voice calls into your office.

You look up at your secretary with weary eyes. His mouth pulls into a sympathetic smile. 

“That bad, huh?”

“You have no idea.” you groan and lean back in your chair. Your muscles scream from the movement and you grunt. “I just verified two plus two on the calculator.”

“Still four?”

“Surprisingly.”

“I think it’s time for a break, then.”

Peeking at the clock, it says it’s around 9:00 PM now. 

With an apologetic smile, you look up at Felix. His white collared shirt is undone at the top, no tie around his neck. A plain pair of tight black slacks hugging his legs. He’s looking at you with nothing but pity in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Felix,” you say while taking the takeout container from him. He just laughs.

“Don’t apologize, it’s all part of the job.” He shifts in place for a moment and turns and looks at the door. 

“Where’s your food?”

“Oh, at my desk.”

“Why don’t you bring it in here? I’d love the company. Wayne can only do so much for my sanity.” You point at the house plant on your windowsill.

A little nametag on the front of the pot says ‘Wayne’ in cursive. 

Felix’s eyes widen and his cheeks turn a bit pink. “Oh! Yeah! I’ll um… I’ll go grab it and be right back.”

You follow his lithe body as he rushes out of your office with one eyebrow raised.

Strange.

True, this was the first time you invited him to eat in your office with you. But it’s not like you ever had the opportunity to do so.

Typically, you ate in your office by yourself while still working. Truth be told, you had no idea when Felix’s lunch break was. He was always available when you needed him. Did he work through his lunch too?

Your secretary re-enters your office slightly out of breath. 

“By the way,” he pants. “I had forgotten to order us drinks, so I got this out of the vending machine for you.”

He comes up to your desk holding out your favorite drink.

“Ugh, what would I do without you?” You smile and take the drink. “Pull a chair closer, you can eat on my desk too. It’ll get all over you if you try to balance it like that on your lap.”

Eagerly, he places his food on your desk and scoots forward. The redness in his cheeks deepened. 

Soft lo-fi music is coming through your computer and filling the silence in the air. You crack open the takeout container and dig in. 

It’s a stir fry. And stir fry has never looked this good in your life.

“This is so good,” you basically moan after taking your first bite. 

“O-Oh, yeah? I’m glad you like it,” Felix stutters back and takes his own bite. 

“It’s definitely much needed after today.” You whine and look back at your desktop. 

“What’s going on with the numbers?”

“Based on what Changbin gave me, it says our internal earnings spiked massively this quarter. And yes, while this is great, it’s extremely abnormal. If this is true, I need to verify it before I can present it; otherwise, I’ll look like a fool.” 

Felix listens intently to your explanation. “I don’t think you could ever look like a fool, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Felix.” You smile at him. He grins back and suddenly it’s like the sun is back up. His pearly white teeth shine in the office light.

“You have such a pretty smile,” you compliment him. “I don’t think I ever told you that.”

Felix squirms in his seat and looks down bashfully. The blush spreads all over his face. One of his hands comes up and rubs the back of his neck. 

“Ah, thank you, ma’am. I appreciate that.”

Chuckling softly, you turn back to your calculations. 

The gentle, twinkling sounds of lo-fi beats do nothing to help calm the swirling confusion in your head. 

Minutes pass and you’re staring at the same algorithm. 

Your shoulders are slowly coming towards your ears with all the tension in your body. When you lean forward to use your keyboard, a burning pain runs through your back. 

“Fuck.” Your hand flies up to grab where your shoulder meets your neck to massage it and roll your head around. 

“Everything alright?” Felix asks. 

“Yeah, I just get so stiff sitting at my desk while I work on the end of quarter stuff. Feels like my shoulders are on fire.”

No amount of massaging your own shoulders seems to be working, though. 

Felix looks down at his food for a moment, then back up to you. His eyes shift away from you nervously. 

“Before this job, I had gone to massage school for a few months. Would you like me to see if I can work those kinks out?”

Normally, you would say no. It would be so wildly inappropriate to have your secretary massage your shoulders while you work. Imagine if someone decided to walk in?

But now? When no one else is here and there’s no end in sight with these analyses?

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” you ask, unsure. 

He seems to perk up a bit. “Not at all!”

Another moment passes while you weigh it in your mind, your lip pulls between your teeth before looking at him a bit sheepishly. “If you don’t mind…”

Felix is up on his feet, food immediately forgotten. It almost startles you how fast he’s up and around the back of your chair.

You had shucked off your blazer a few hours ago. Just your button up on, the top few buttons undone and sleeves rolled up to your elbows. 

Felix stands behind you for a moment, his hands hovering over your shoulders. “Do you have any lotion?”

“Yes, actually.” Reaching down into your desk drawer, you pulled out an herbal lotion that your one friend had gotten you as a gift. 

“‘Stress Relief’, huh?” Felix teases when you set it on the desk.

“A friend thought it would make a great gag gift with everything going on,” you laugh to yourself and stare back at your computer. “She didn’t realize how appropriate it was.”

Once more, Felix moves his hands around your back, his lithe fingers sweeping your hair off the back of your neck. Instead of keeping it down, you lean forward and grab a long pencil out of the cup and twirl it around your hair to then pin it up.

It’s a trick you learned back in college.

Felix watches behind you silently, his breath hitches slightly when he sees your hair settle all pinned up. Strands fall out of the bundle and frame your face and neck a bit.

It’s the most perfect messy hairstyle he’s ever seen. 

Felix’s jaw clenches and he gulps, pulling himself together.

“Do you mind if I, ah– lower the back of your shirt a bit?” 

“Yeah, here.” You’re already back in word mode; after looking at the sheer number of raw data littering the spreadsheet on your desktop, you were no longer focused on your secretary. 

You unbutton more of the buttons and let your shirt slide off your shoulders a bit. Your cleavage was still covered– mostly. 

Felix’s brain whites out for a split second and he has to physically force his brain to reboot. There’s a slight twitch in his pants at the sight of your naked shoulders. You’re always in those high-collared shirts, blazers, sweaters, so ungodly professional.

But your clothes are always so skin tight. Or you’ll wear a blouse like this one and a tiny little pencil skirt. 

Felix leans down and pumps some lotion on his hands, rubbing it together to warm it up before setting his hands on your wonderfully smooth skin. It takes every fiber of his being not to let out a moan at the feeling. 

His breathing picks up as he digs his thumbs into your muscles. 

Immediately, you groan at the feeling. “God, that already feels so good, Felix.”

His name, you said his name, moaning nonetheless. 

He can only make a noise of acknowledgement while he continues to work out the high strung muscles in your neck and shoulders.

Meanwhile, your brain is completely focused on your calculations. It’s so much easier to focus on everything when it doesn’t feel like your back is on fire.

Felix’s hands are absolutely magical. Everywhere he rubs loosens up underneath his strong, yet gentle, grip. He kneads right at the base of your neck and every knot slowly releases.

Small moans slip past your lips without realizing it.

And just because you don’t realize you’re moaning does not mean that your secretary hasn’t. Every single sound that comes out of your mouth goes straight to his dick. His slacks have tightened significantly, a tent pitching higher and higher each second.

He scolds himself internally. He knows he needs to pull it together, you’re his boss. You sign his paychecks. But fuck, knowing that you’re making those noises because of just his fingers is messing with his brain, he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.

Felix runs over a particularly tight knot and you jump with a yelp.

“Sorry! Sorry!” he apologizes profusely, keeping his hands on your shoulders.

“It’s okay,” you soothe his worry. “God, I already feel better. It felt like someone was stabbing flaming daggers into my shoulders.”

Your voice sounds somewhere else. Even though Felix has been your secretary for almost two years now, you’ve never spoken this casually with him. You were always professional, always so put together. 

The work in front of you has you so consumed that you don’t realize how much your tongue is slipping.

It’s been like this the entire night. You’re too distracted to care. 

“I can’t believe you chose to pursue this instead of continuing with massage school.” you continue.

“Well, I had originally gotten this job to pay for massage school. Then, when I got this position, I realized it paid more than being a masseuse ever would.”

You move your head around your shoulders, “Still.” you write down a string of numbers, click around on your keyboard, punch a formula into the calculator, then write something else down. “God, your fingers are fucking magical.”

Hearing you curse sent a lightning bolt down his back and Felix’s head is shot into the clouds. And you were complimenting him! 

“I can’t imagine what else those fingers can do.” 

Now he knows he’s dreaming. Did you really just say that? Did he hallucinate it? His fingers pause on your muscles.

Your own words must have sunken into your brain; your entire body goes rigid and you gasp, one hand flying over your mouth. Your heart drops to your stomach.

“Oh my god, Felix.” you say quietly, your tone is horrified. “Felix, I am so sorry, please. Oh, god.”

You can’t even turn around to look at him. It’s like ice water was injected to your veins. How could you have said that? He’s going to report you to HR! Who wouldn’t? You quite literally just harassed him in the workplace.

“I have no idea why I said that.” you sputter.

Say goodbye to everything you worked for. You threw it out the window by accidentally letting your tongue slip while he massaged your bare shoulders.

While you were apologizing profusely, you didn't feel him lean down until you heard his baritone voice was right next to your ear.

“I could show you.”

Like a zipper, pleasure shoots right up your spine. It makes you sit up straighter in your desk chair. Your mouth is suddenly so dry.

“W-What?” you stutter out, still looking down at your desk.

Felix is so close behind you that you can smell his cologne wrapping around your nose. It’s so fresh. It has a cotton-like musky smell to it. You’ve always caught whiffs of it when he came breezing through your office.

So many times you’ve found yourself leaning into the smell, and now here you have it so close to you.

“I could show you what these fingers can do, ma’am.” he purrs in your ear. Goosebumps raise all along the back of your neck, the hairs stand on end and a shiver creeps up on you.

His warm, slippery hands slide from your shoulders down your bare arms to grip them for a second before sliding back up. Felix reapers the motion a few times, letting his hot breath fan over your exposed skin.

“But,” the gravel of his voice makes your insides flutter. “You need to finish these calculations, ma’am.”

You hum in response, allowing your eyes to flutter closed and you lean back into his touch.

Felix chuckles under his breath. “I have an idea.”

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

Oh, it was a sinful fucking idea. Did he really think you were going to get any work done like this?

Felix had sat down on your desk chair, the tent in his pants so painfully obvious. At the same time, you can’t deny the wetness in your panties. It was getting worse and worse during that massage.

It’s only natural. 

He grabs your hips and pulls your body towards him, his face level with your lower stomach. He looks directly up at you, his fingers curling into the fabric of your pencil skirt.

Those deep brown eyes staring up at you with a lustful haze covering them. Every freckle was highlighted on his face due to the blush covering his skin.

You bring one of your hands up to his face and softly caress his cheek, letting your fingertips dance over his skin. Felix leans into your touch; he turns his head and presses a kiss to your palm.

“This is crazy,” you whisper down to him.

“The secretary sleeping with the boss is not a new concept, ma’am.”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, but it’s usually the other way around.”

One of your knees comes up and rests on the chair right in front of his crotch. Felix bites his lip and his eyes squint shut for a moment.

His hips stutter, you can tell he’s trying not to roll them to rub against your bare skin.

Your head cocks to the side and you smirk. “Come on then, I need you to be fully hard if I’m going to sit on your cock.”

One of the deepest moans you’ve ever heard pulls from deep within his chest. Felix’s head tilts back and his grip on your hips tightens. In a fluid motion, he gyrates his hips and you feel his cock press right against your leg.

A devious smile crosses your face, you move your hand down to grip his face tightly to bring his clouded gaze back to you. 

“Come on then, Felix. You can do better than that.”

He whines and closes his eyes again, his hips stuttering and moving faster, harder. He parts his lips to begin panting. Each breath is hot and heavy, you can barely hear your music over it. The heat from his exhales goes right through your shirt.

Further and further, he descends into a subspace.

“Good boy,” you praise and it goes straight to his head. 

Felix gulps and moves his hands around to grip your ass a bit.

In a quick movement, you rip your leg away from his hips.

Felix cries out and his eyes fly open to look at you with astonishment.

“Did I say you could touch me like that?” you hiss down at him. 

“No, ma’am.”

Your head cocks to the side and you stare for a few seconds. “I need to get back to work already. Take your cock out.”

His eyes widen and he hesitates, not used to hearing such filth tumble from your lips. You tighten your grip on his face.

“I’m waiting, Felix.”

He’s then fumbling with his pants trying to fulfill your wishes. He’s practically scrambling. Why isn’t the zipper fucking working? Come on, come on.

Meanwhile, you drop his face and pull your skirt up around your waist, revealing your black lace thong. While still fumbling with his own pants, Felix moans, staring at the beautiful sight in front of him. It sounds like it’s punched out of him.

Teasingly, you hook your thumbs around the elastic band and drag it down your legs slowly.

Another whine comes out from Felix’s throat. His tongue practically falls out of his mouth at the sight of your pussy, acting like a starved dog.

“Please,” he pants, not able to tear his eyes away from it. “Just a taste. Just one. Please, ma’am, please.”

Smirking, you lightly slap his cheek twice. “You get three licks, honey.”

He can’t get his mouth on you fast enough. Felix wraps his lips around your glistening folds and runs his tongue up through your juices, collecting whatever he could on his tongue. 

You both moan at the same time at the sensation.

“One…” you moan out. 

Another lick pulls another moan. “Two!”

After the third lick, he swirls his tongue around your clit, making your knees feel weak. “Fuck! Three!”

You roughly grab his hair and yank his mouth away from you. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes half lidded. It looks like you took a puppy away from its bowl.

His full lips glisten with your arousal. 

“Sit back on the chair, hands to yourself.”

Felix reluctantly leans back in your chair, his cock at full mast and dripping with precum. His head is flushed red. He is painfully hard.

He rests both of his hands on the arm rests of the chair and keeps his lustful eyes on you.

A smirk pulls at your lips as you kick your panties off, heels staying on. 

You turn around and grab Felix’s cock tightly. His hands tighten around the armrests with a gasp.

“Remember what I said, Felix. No touching.”

“Yes,” he pants.

“Say it, then.” you demand, hovering your pussy over his cock. You both can feel the heat of each other radiating off. 

“No touchinggg—!” While he was talking you dropped down onto his length. 

Both of you moan out loud, your head kicks back at the delicious stretch. God, it’s been too fucking long since you’ve gotten laid. This job takes everything from you.

You roll your hips a few times, getting adjusted. With each movement, Felix lets out a noise: a whine, a grunt, a moan, a whimper, everything in between. He’s singing a chorus of pleasure in your ear. 

“We have to get a little closer to the desk, Felix.”

It takes every ounce of strength, but your voice comes out even and Felix clocks that it’s your professional voice. You feel his cock twitch inside you.

Slowly, he rolls the chair towards the desk and you immediately return to your work. You snap back to it so fast it makes Felix whimper again.

Your heat is wrapped around him in the fucking best way. There’s no way he’s alive right now. For months he’s touched himself thinking about what you looked like underneath all those professional clothes.

You’re always so uptight, what if you just let loose for once? What would it be like? 

Your pussy clenched down on him and Felix whines, throwing his head back. Oh, this was going to be torture.

Just until you finish verifying the calculation, that’s what you said. As soon as you verify the numbers, then you would let him have you.

“You just need to behave.” You told him.

How is he supposed to behave when you’re so fucking tight and wet around him? He can feel each breath you take. 

Besides the fact that you’re surrounding his cock, your naked thighs are right there on top of his. He wants to grab them so hard it’ll leave his fingerprints in your skin, maybe it’ll bruise in the shape of his handprint.

Felix can’t help his hips bucking at the thought.

You clench again and moan. “Felix,” you warn.

“S-Sorry.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Sorry, ma’am!” 

Oh, you love that. You absolutely throb around him. Huh.

The soft hairs on the back of your neck tickle against his nose, he can still smell the lotion that he rubbed into your shoulders. 

Felix is grabbing the armrests so tight his knuckles are turning white. His nails dig into the leather painfully.

He licks his lips nervously and he gets another taste of your arousal that was still on his skin. It makes his eyes roll back. 

You adjust on his lap. The movement of your heat around him makes his head spin. The drag of your hot, soaking wet walls over his length is the most consuming feeling he’s ever felt. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath. 

“Stop moving.”

A small sheen of sweat breaks out on his forehead.

Why no touching? Why couldn’t he snake his hand around and up your blouse? He could cup your tit and pinch and pull your nipples until you’re clenching around him so tight that he could scream. He could lick all the way up your neck and pull your earlobe into his mouth while he listens to you panting his name.

Why can’t he touch you? God, he just wants to touch you.

Here he was, living out his wildest wet dream, and he couldn't feel your soft, supple skin underneath his fingers.

Why can’t he turn your head and consume your lips with his own? Shove his tongue down your throat and suck on yours like it’s a piece of candy.

He should’ve taken his pants off. This way he would’ve been able to feel your juices drip down and soak his thighs. You’re so fucking wet he thinks he might die. 

Felix’s eyes travel to the desk. He could absolutely bend you over the top. He could pull your hair and make you scream. He could make you forget all about–

“Aha!” When you scream, he jumps in surprise. His hips buck up and your pussy clenches around him. You both moan.

“Did you get it?” he pants out. His voice sounds so much weaker than he wanted it to; he sounds like he just ran two miles.

“Yes! He used net earnings instead of gross in one formula! Oh I am going to kill him.”

Thank the fucking lord. You figured it out. You did it, can he please please please–

Felix must’ve started thrusting up into you before he could even register the movements. His mind is so cloudly with lust that he can barely think straight.

“Easy, Felix.” you whine out through moans. He can just tell you didn’t want him to stop either. “Let me just finalize the chart and then–”

Felix cries out and then slumps his head forward to rest between your shoulder blades. “Ma’am, please, I’ve been so good for you, haven’t I? Haven’t I been such a good boy for you, ma’am?”

You hum and roll your hips ever so slightly. Just this slight amount of movement drives Felix insane. He whimpers loudly and his legs begin to shake underneath you.

“You have been a good boy, Felix. Why don’t I give you a reward?”

“Please.”

“Why don’t you let those pretty little hands roam until I’m done?”

“Thank you!” he cries out with a hoarse voice.

Immediately, his hands fly to your thighs and he grips the flesh tightly. His nails dig into your skin and you cry out under your breath, your walls clamping down on him tightly.

“Can I use my mouth, ma’am? Please please please please–”

“Yesss…” you hissed at him.

Felix attaches his lips to your neck and begins to suck on the soft skin while his hands wander up your body.

One hand goes right under your shirt and pulls your bra down. Those magic fingers pinch your nipple.

Every reaction your body has envelopes him in the most amazing way. He can feel everything your body likes. He can feel how you like when he rubs around your nipple rather than pinching it. He can feel how much you love when he uses his thumb to play with your tit while his mouth bites at your neck and hit other hand teases your soaking wet folds.

“Felix…” you warn. It’s all empty, though. Your typing has completely stopped, work has been forgotten.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, ma’am.” He moans when you tighten. “Let me make you feel good, ma’am. Let me be such a good secretary.”

With the gentlest of touches, Felix plays with your clit. Just with that soft touch, your body spasms around him.

“I can make your body sing, ma’am. Let me be of service to you.”

Another gentle pinch of your nipple. It’s going straight to his head how he can feel how much you’re fighting him.

“Don’t you want to cum around my cock, ma’am?”

You break. “Please.” you whine out.

It’s enough for him. 

Both of his arms tighten around your body, his feet plant firmly on the floor and he begins fucking up into you like his fucking life depends on it. 

He turns into something of a fucking animal with how he’s rutting his cock into your sopping wet heat. He thrusts so hard and so fast, you think he might go through you.

His teeth bare for a moment from the exertion, but he bites down where your shoulder meets your neck.

Your head throws back onto his shoulder. Felix grabs your entire tit to anchor his hold, his thumb brushing over the nipple over and over, each one sends a ripple of pleasure through you.

His other hand rubs harder at your clit, you clamp even tighter over him. Both of you grunt and groan. There is no silence in your office; is the music even playing anymore?

You turn your head to look at him. “Kiss me, Felix.”

He captures your lips without a second thought. It all feels so fucking deliciously good. He sucks on your tongue just like he always wanted to. 

Your mouths glide over one another sloppily, spit getting everywhere on your mouths.

With each thrust, each flick, each rub, your orgasm gets closer and closer. 

Felix shifts his hips a bit and hits your g-spot so hard you cry out into his mouth, he swallows the noise.

“You’re so fucking tight, ma’am. I can feel you clenching so hard. You’re close, aren’t you?”

All you’re able to do is nod. He’s stimulating you so much that you can’t find your voice. 

“Fuck!” he cries out, “Fuck fuck, give it to me, please. Please cum for me, ma’am.” His voice is so low, it's so hoarse from arousal.

A particularly hard thrust launches you over the edge, your orgasm seizes every inch of your body. Felix keeps going, fucking you right through your orgasm.

Deep, guttural moans come from his chest as your body begins to shake in overstimulation. His thrusts grow sloppy and uncoordinated as he gets closer to his own peak.

“Cumming, cumming, cumming!” he shouts and bites your neck again.

Felix spills within you, his hips sputter and he continues to talk through it. 

“So good, fuck, thank you, thank you. So fucking good, fuck, oh my god.”

The room begins to settle, both of your pants becoming softer than the music. Felix holds you close to his chest still, not letting you go.

Your eyes flicker to your desktop.

“... I’m only halfway done. Your cock isn’t going anywhere.”

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids kinktober #skz kinktober #lee felix smut #felix smut #lee felix x reader #felix x reader

[paperultra]

the liminal space.

Pairing: OPLA!Roronoa Zoro x Reader Word Count: 1,575 words Warnings: Swearing, mentions of alcohol use [A/N: written with the cooper!reader from mise en rose in mind. i don't know where in the timeline this occurs, though. lol.]

cingulomania (noun): a strong desire to hold a person in your arms

Living in close quarters can really change how you see a person.

Roronoa Zoro, for instance, had always struck you as rather aloof, having traveled alone for some time before you joined him, and unused to physical affection. He never gave any indication that he was one to enjoy it, and he never sought it out from anyone. That certainly wasn’t odd. You respected his tendency towards personal space, subsequently believing that it extended to his sleeping habits as well.

So when you wake up, hardly able to breathe underneath the hulking mass of a snoring swordsman, you are more surprised than anything.

“Zoro,” you wheeze, patting his back with the hand that isn’t crushed between his chest and yours. Nothing happens, so you swat harder. “Zoro. You’re crushing me.”

His arms squeeze around you as he stirs, inhaling sharply next to your ear. You stop moving as he lifts his head and opens his eyes just wide enough to register you beneath him.

He pauses.

Good morning, sunshine is what you want to say in a cheeky tone. You want to prove that you’re unaffected by the warmth of his body pressing yours into the mattress, the sensation of his breath across your cheekbone and the way his gaze transitions from something bleary into something sharp.

The greeting refuses to leave your mouth. All you can do is blink.

The next thing you know, Zoro’s rolling off of you and out of bed with nary an apology, mumbling something about going to the bathroom.

You hum distantly in response and stare up at the ceiling as he shuffles to the door. Once he closes it behind him, you reach up and fold your hands over your eyes, cheeks hot.

Great.

—

It all started because you and Zoro could only afford a single bed at the inn.

(You use the term “afford” loosely here. The truth of the matter is that you grossly underestimated how much a room would cost, and the owner of the one place willing to lend you a room for half the usual rate demanded physical labor to make up for the rest. Given that Zoro would be spending most of his time hunting down a bounty, the majority of the unpaid labor fell on your shoulders.)

(But you digress.)

The room is small and bare, which is fine, because you and Zoro don’t have much between the two of you anyway. The only problem is that there is only one bed. Zoro had expressed no qualms about sharing so long as you didn’t disturb his sleep, and you had readily agreed, not wanting either of you to sleep on the floor.

After the first morning, you’re not sure if that was a lapse of judgement on your part or not.

Zoro doesn’t mention it at all before he leaves for the day, and you don’t, either. However, when he comes back in the middle of the night and you’re already in bed, squinting and shielding yourself from the bright hallway light as he takes his slippers off and walks in, he sits on the carpet just a few feet away from your side.

“What are you doing?” you ask as he proceeds to lay down.

“Sleeping.”

He closes his eyes and folds his arms behind his head. You frown.

“Why aren’t you sleeping up here?” No answer. You lift your head from your pillow, indignant. “Hey, don’t ignore me! I know you’re still awake.”

“I’ve had a long day,” he grumbles, “so I’d like some quiet so I can sleep. Thanks.”

You huff.

The thought that Zoro might actually be just as embarrassed flits briefly through your mind, but you extinguish it just as quickly. He’s never seemed like the kind of guy to be self-conscious about those kinds of things. A more likely reason is that he’s decided that he wants his own separate space after all and can’t be bothered to kick you off the bed.

So, you kick yourself off instead.

“What are you doing?” The phrase now comes from Zoro as you throw the covers off and grab your pillow, kneeling on the ground beside him. His eyes open and his brow furrows.

“Take the bed. I feel guilty.”

“I don’t want the bed.”

“Everybody wants the bed.” You lie down on the carpet and cross your arms over your chest, stubborn. “I’ve already slept in it. Now it’s your turn.”

“You’re an idiot,” Zoro says.

Neither of you budge.

The next morning, you decide that the first morning was in fact not a fluke, as you awake with your face smushed against his chest and the smell of steel in your nose once again. He’s not on top of you, at least, but the way he clutches you while you’re lying on your side, one ankle hooked over yours, is somehow ten times more mortifying. You wake him up in the midst of untangling yourself and pretend like nothing happened.

Who’s the idiot now? (The answer is both of you. Both of you are idiots.)

—

The third night, you and Zoro flop onto the hard mattress with twin groans, heads spinning and feeling overall miserable.

“That was the shittiest booze I’ve ever had,” Zoro slurs next to you, face down in his pillow.

“But you got a lead, right?” you mumble.

“Yeah …”

You had been there in the bar when he’d gotten that lead, but you can’t remember what it was for the life of you. Another inn? Another bar? Ugh, you’re never drinking there again.

“I’m cold.”

There are blankets on the bed. Unfortunately, getting underneath them would require a lot of moving, and you are physically incapable of exerting yourself that much right now.

You shiver and turn onto your side to curl up. You’ll fall asleep at some point, anyway.

Zoro murmurs your name.

“Hm,” you groan, eyes screwed shut.

He doesn’t say anything in reply. But you hear the mattress squeak, the bedsheets rustle as he shifts closer, and your breath catches when the small distance between you closes. He does not wrap his arms around you, no, but your knees touch, and the heat from his skin melds into yours. You hear his breathing slow to a crawl.

Through your drunken haze breaks through a sudden need to draw him into you, to tuck your face into his neck and keep it there forever. You want – you want. But you’re exhausted, and your head aches, so you find yourself slipping into a deep slumber instead.

He’s already gone when you wake up.

—

A suspiciously lumpy gunnysack in the corner of the room catches your eye once you enter, hand over your mouth to stifle a yawn.

“What’s in the bag?”

“Eight million beri,” Zoro says from his seat on the bed. Cleaning supplies for his swords are strewn around him, and he sheathes the Wado Ichimonji as you close the door. “I ran into another bounty on the way back.”

“Eight mill –” You clear your throat. “Wow. That was pretty lucky.” Eight million beri. Sometimes you wonder if you’ll ever get used to how much bounty hunters can make. (God, that would’ve been more than enough to pay for the room.) “We’re heading out to a marine base tomorrow morning, then?”

“That’s the plan.”

He puts away his supplies, setting them and his swords against the wall near his pillow before standing up to pull down the sheets on his side. You turn off the bedside lamp and do the same, crawling in with a sigh.

The two of you simply lie side-by-side until you decide to break the silence with your big mouth again.

“Am I a burden to you?” you ask.

“No.” The plainness of Zoro’s tone is a small comfort, you suppose. “Why are you asking?”

“Well …” You already regret bringing this topic up as you trail off, biting your bottom lip. “I feel like I haven’t really done much. I mean, I help with navigating and searching crowds and stuff, and I’ve been getting better at fighting, but I can’t help you, you know?” You fiddle with your fingers. “You don’t actually need me.”

There’s a gap between you and Zoro that you’ll likely never be able to close. You had always known that, and so had Zoro; in fact, he had told you at the start that going with him was a bad idea, given your inexperience in bounty hunting and traveling in general. And although you’d like to think that your ability to read a map and fix things convinced him of your usefulness, there are times when you think Zoro regrets bringing you along. Like now.

Zoro grunts, turning to lay on his back. His shoulder nearly lands on your hands, and you draw them to yourself as you wait for his answer.

It is brief and straightforward.

“I’m not forcing you to go with me,” he says. “And if you were a burden, I would’ve told you a long time ago.”

“Oh.”

It is brief and straightforward, and yet, there’s a strange lump in your throat. You swallow it and nod, even though he cannot see you do so.

Nothing more is said. However, as the night goes on, you reach out, and you find him, and Zoro finds you, and the space between your arms fills up with warmth and an unspoken promise. And you sleep very well.

#aesthetic words prompt list #opla #one piece #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro #opla zoro #one piece live action #opla fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #'if they're broke how come they don't just sleep in reader's boat ?' you may ask. #and the answer is 'for plot purposes' #sorry if this one is wonky it wasn't cooperating for some reason ;-; #but reader gets to cuddle zoro ! that has to count for something right ?!

[mewhenimanangel]

reporting live, paige bueckers

— synopsis. you meet paige when you’re assigned to report on the uconn v. iowa game.

notes ౨ৎ: i’ve never wrote for a real person before it feels so strange…but there’s like no fics on here i had to take matters into my own hands.

also yes im rewriting history to make uconn win!

you checked yourself out in the mirror, fixing your outfit - low rise black work pants with a white button down that showed a small sliver of your stomach with black sling back heels.

you tossed your hair around to fix it making sure it was in perfect shape. after all, your job was pretty dependent on looks.

you worked as a reporter for the city's top news agency and tonight you would be attending the uconn versus iowa women's basketball game.

you were also pretty active on social media and managed to make some money that way, you were more than grateful for your lifestyle.

you called your friend, devon , to make sure she was on her way to get you knowing you absolutely could not be late tonight.

she answered the phone and you sighed a breath of relief when it sounded like she was in fact on her way.

"hey girll, are you excited for tonight? pretty big story" she said, bustling city noise behind her.

"yeah i'm excited to interview uconn after they beat iowa's ass" you smirked when you heard her gasp on the other side. "they so will not! my girlfriend caitlin's gonna pull through"

"nah, paige buckets got that easily" you scoffed as you packed your bag, ready to head downstairs out of your apartment.

your bosses had assigned you to tonight's game and hooked you up with two court-side tickets for you and a guest, along with the camera crew.

you of course had to invite your best friend to go with you.

you stepped outside the building and watched as her car pulled up outside.

"ugh i can't believe i get to see caitlin clark up close" devon squealed as you got yourself situated in the car. "ugh be calm, you literally have a boyfriend." you joked. "okay and?" she laughed as she drove off.

once you were at the stadium, you and devon met at with your crew as you found your seats inside.

the game wasn't due to start for another fourty or so minutes but it was already packed inside.

you were glad women's basketball was finally getting the recognition it deserved after you and your mom had been fans of it almost your whole life. you even played a little bit in high school.

you and devon got snacks before sitting down and getting yourselves comfortable.

it didn't feel long until the players came out and the game was started. aliyah and hailey jump started the game before kk threw the ball back at paige.

the game was a close one and you made sure to follow it closely. throughout the game you did side interviews with other players and people attending the game, which was all just leading up to the end of game interviews.

it was the final quarter and you made sure to pay close attention.

it all came down to the last few seconds when paige threw the ball off caitlin's back to catch it again and land the ball in the net, giving uconn the winning score!

you and your crew sat up as you turned your reporter accent on "there you have it folks, uconn has won this round and will advance to the final game against south carolina. what an amazing job tonight by these wonderful ladies on both teams. win or lose, it was a great watch and i'm cheering for everyone's next move."

once you were sure the cameras were off you turned around to devon and threw your hands in the air.

"bitch i told you! i tolddd you paige had this game" you squealed. "ughhh you're so annoying why are you always right" she groaned.

a few minutes later you popped some mouthwash melts and fixed your makeup before you were to interview paige.

your hands were sweating like crazy. you never wanted to come off as an insane fan girl but you were obsessed with paige.

your cameraman followed you as you walked over to paige and she turned around. "hi" she smiled and shook your hand. "hi, are you ready?" you asked her. "yeah" she smiled. you gave your cameraman a thumbs up as he turned the camera on.

you turned to paige, who was already staring at you and you took a deep breath. you're usually never nervous to interview people but god the way she was looking at you.

her eyes were trained on yours and she had a little smirk on her face, her face was glistening from the tiring game she just played and she licked her lips waiting for you to ask your first question.

you cleared your throat "i'm here with paige bueckers, who just made the winning move in the highly anticipated iowa versus uconn game! tell me paige, how did it feel to take the winning shot?" you turned the microphone to her.

she rubbed her chin "ah it was really nerve racking to be honest i mean. i could feel my team counting on me and i knew i really had to pull through and get us out on top" she answered, eyes focusing back on you.

"yeah but that was a tough shot wasn't it?" you watched her eyes drop down to scan you before meeting yours again. "yeah but i knew i could make it in for sure"

"right, bueckers get buckets i don't know what to tell y'all" you joked to the camera. paige laughed.

"yeah for sure but i really owe it all to my team" she continued before kk came up behind her. "yupppppp WE GOING TO THE TITLE GAME" she threw her arms around you and paige and the threw of you jumped in excitement before running to find her other teammates.

you laughed it off before continuing for the camera "well there you have it, paige it was lovely to talk to you. congratulations on the winning game! make sure those of you at home tune in to the final game taking place in just a few days." you signed off the camera before your crew stopped filming.

you turned to paige and dropped the reporter voice. "it was nice to meet you by the way" you smiled. "i could say the same" her eyes never left yours and you bit your cheek to hide a smile.

"well i should let you go celebrate, congratulations, have a good night!" you said, beginning to walk away.

"bye it was nice to meet you" she said before you fully walked away.

you walked over to devon who was waiting on the side. "i know damn well your heart is racing"

"shut up" you smirked.

#nia writes ࿐ #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #paige buckets #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #nika muhl #kk arnold #bueckers get buckets

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

confessions of a swordsman

zoro x reader

summary: Zoro and you are in a thing - what kind of thing? Who knows but Sanji decides to flirt with you to get Zoro jealous.

The laundry line had been put up for the day, Nami and you were on folding duty. A blanket was laid out on the grass, and you sat comfortably folding clothes into piles for each crew member. Nami was taking clothes off the line and placing them in a basket. The two of you had an efficient process and admittedly were having a good time just chatting. The navigator finally pulled down the last article of clothing and joined you on the blanket. She started matching socks and asked what your plans were for the next island docking.

“I need some new clothes,” she sighed, holding up one of her shirts with a large hole in it. “I don’t even know how this happened.”

“I think we could all use some new clothes.” You held up one of Zoro’s shirts and stuck a finger through the tear at the neckline. Nami laughed when you wiggled a finger at her. “He hates picking out clothes though…I’ll probably just pick out a few things for him.”

Nami smirked. “Wow. Are you just so domesticated.”

“It’s not like that,” you shrugged, folding the shirt, and placing it in Zoro’s pile of clothes. Your eyes didn’t meet hers and that’s all she needed.

“Do you want it to be like that?”

 “I’m just happy being on this ship and being by Luffy’s side.”

Your smile was bright and eager, but Nami saw through the feign contentment in your eyes, but she also knew there was truth to my statement. She said nothing else, but you weren’t foolish enough to not think anything of it. For one, you were sure it was obvious to all that Zoro had a place in your heart and maybe, you in his. Not that either of you would ever admit it out loud – whatever was going on between him and you were a mystery to you like everyone else. The swordsman had a one-track mind, and you knew that from the first time you met. In the beginning, the two of you had bonded over trying to keep Luffy alive. Real friendship bloomed through late night drinking and exchanging stories, triumphs, laughter. Then one night, when everyone else went to bed, he kissed you under the moonlight. His kiss was eager but insecure until you kissed him back. You slept together that night and most nights after that – whenever privacy allotted.

But he never called it what it was or could be or should be.

Neither did you.

Now it’s been months of this, and you were trying your best to not want him in ways he wasn’t willing to give. Not that you really knew what his willingness would amount to because you never talked about our relationship. It was confusing. But you also didn’t want to be the one that needed more, who craved more because it felt weak.

“All done.”

You smiled at Nami and divvyed up the piles to deliver the clean laundry. She left with her basket of clothes to take back to our dorms, and you made your way to the guy’s quarters. You knocked first but when no one answered you walked in; you were surprised to see Zoro napping but tiptoed around the room and placed each pile on different beds. When it came to the napping man’s pile of clothes, you moved to his portion of the wardrobe and placed them on a shelf. You nearly made it to the door when he called out your name and you turned.

“What’s up?”

“Come here,” he murmured, eyes hazy with sleep. He was on his back when you approached, and he quickly pulled you down to the bed. You fell on top of him, hands on his chest as he wrapped an arm effortlessly around your waist. His hand snaked around your neck and pulled you down, hair falling over his face. He grinned slightly and yanked you downwards for a kiss. Your body reacted in the way it always did when he touched you, and you wanted nothing more than to let him ruin you, but he kissed you hard once more and released you.

His eyes closed and then he started to snore.

You rolled your eyes and got off the bed, bringing his discarded blanket off the floor to cover him up. His hair was pushed back from his forehead, and you touched his cheek; his skin went warm and red, like he was blushing. He looked peaceful and you left him to his nap; needing something cold to drink to ease the heat of his lips on yours.

…

The kitchen smelled like baked fish and fresh bread; you sauntered toward the kitchen island and asked Sanji if he needed help. He refused but asked you to sit and keep him company, offering up a bread roll when you agreed. The roll was warm and buttery. You groaned and thanked the man, but going quiet as he worked around the stove.

“You’re awfully quiet over there. What did that idiot do to you?”

See, everyone knew.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sanji smirked, lighting a cigarette. He pointed a spatula at you and said you were a bad liar. “You can do better, by the way, but I guess I can’t say I’m blind. Everyone can see the way you two look at each other – as sick as that makes me.”

His dramatics made you smile. “I don’t even know what us is. I mean, we all know how talkative Zoro is.”

The cook laughed with a shrug, deciding you could help, and motioned for you to come help with dicing. You got up and moved around next to him, he handed you a knife and instructed you on how to dice the green onions. You worked side by side for twenty minutes while he gave you advice on how to talk to Zoro – as much as that pained him. “He’s a competitive asshole. So, work with that.”

“How so?”

Sanji watched as you plated the salmon, nodding to the door just as it swung open from the deck. Your eyes went to Luffy who barged in with a smile and Zoro who had followed him, fresh from his nap. “Here, try this.”

The cook had grabbed you by the chin, turning your head gently to him. With his other hand, he spoon fed you a taste of the desert pudding and your cheeks went red. It was delicious but Sanji’s eyes weren’t on you – they were on Zoro’s, who was glaring from the doorway. You grabbed a hold of the spoon and Sanji released you, patting you lightly on the head before announcing that dinner was ready. Unable to even look at Zoro, you wiped your mouth with a kitchen cloth and helped Sanji serve the plates. After making sure everyone had a plate, you sat in the empty spot next to Zoro. He stiffed a little as you sat but then relaxed when you asked how his nap was. He smirked and just asked if you wanted some ale. The rest of the dinner went uneventful. The food was delicious, the drinks cold, and the conversations were lively. You offered to help Sanji with the dishes, but Zoro pointed it you already helped with dinner.

“Let the lazy cook do the dishes.”

Sanji retorted back with a curse but gave you a knowing smile. You stole a peek at Zoro and noted jealously in his eyes – Sanji was right, but you weren’t sure how much you wanted to push it. Instead, you asked Zoro if he wanted to come to the library with you. “I found that book we were talking about.”

“If Mosshead doesn’t want to enjoy literature with you, I’d be happy to after the dishes. We can light some candles, drink some wine…”

You looked over to the counter, where Sanji was arranging the dishes; his eyes were smoldering and kind, you wanted to laugh at his thoughtful attempts to help you, but the way Zoro was fuming next to you – it seemed like he was enjoying torturing his crew mate.

“Do the damn dishes, idiot.” Zoro grumbled, reaching for your hand. His large fingers around your wrist were surprising. He had never touched you in front of the others and everyone, but Brooke and Franky were around now. No one really paid attention or was trying not to, as Zoro pushed back in his chair and got up. His eyes narrowed down to you, but then a softness overcame his entire face, and he asked if you were done.

All you could manage was a nod.

Then he helped you up from your chair and led you out of the kitchen, towards the library. He didn’t say a word until you were in the library and then he dropped your hand. He moved toward the wall of books and spoke with his back to you.

“If something’s going on between the cook and you, just tell me. I can take it.”

His back tensed as he waited for you to answer him.

“You’re a real idiot.”

Zoro whipped around and cursed at you. “I’m not an idiot! You’re the one flirting with that – that – Euro trash!”

“I wasn’t flirting but even if I was, why do you care?” He seized at your question. “Well, why do you care, Zoro? We’ve never defined whatever this is.”

It was clear that he was flustered and angry, eyes burning with annoyance, but you stood your ground. All you wanted was to hear it from him; you knew Zoro was a man of action over words, but you needed this. Even if he said he didn’t want you, that he could do without you – at least he would have said it. He owed you that much.

“What the hell do you want from me?”

His voice was husked, desperate for reasoning.

“I love you.”

The words came fumbling out of your mouth with a huge relief to your body. It felt great, airing out your feelings and even if he couldn’t reciprocate, at least you said it. You stood there with the moonlight dancing through the windows and could only see Zoro lost in thought. Then, seconds later, he snapped out of it.

“Don’t move,” he seethed through his teeth before storming out of the library. You stood there in disbelief and for a moment, you were afraid that he wasn’t going to come back. That he was going to walk away from you and that would be the end of it.  For a moment, you felt feign resolve; you’d get through it because you got through everything hard in your life.

Then his voice spoke from the library door and when you turned, he seemed more relaxed. He stared at you; hands crossed against his chest, cheeks a bit marooned. He looked proud and when you asked where he had gone, he smirked.

“I went to tell that cook to stay away from you.”

“You did?”

Zoro grinned, walking toward you with a bit of swagger. “I don’t need to confess anything to the rest of them or anyone, but you needed me to, so I did. I told them all that I loved you and for now on, we belong to each other.”

Your heart swayed as Zoro took your face in his hands, rubbing his thumb across your bottom lip. “Don’t play games with me. Just be straightforward, okay? If I catch anyone flirting with you again, I’m kicking their ass, got it?”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you nodded. “I got it. I’m sorry.”

Zoro kissed you roughly on the lips, hand resting at the base of your neck. His kisses turned softer after a minute, and then he pulled away to hold you against him. You felt safe in his arms and relief washed over you, tears forming in your eyes. When he felt a wetness seeping through his shirt, he gently pushed you off him.

“Shit. I didn’t mean for you to cry.”

Panicked filled his voice but you just laughed, brushing away the tears; touching the side of Zoro’s face, you watched as he melted against your touch and smiled. “I’m just really happy.”

Zoro chuckled lightly, pulling you back to him.  “Come here, you little crybaby.”

.....

tagging those who were interested - 💕love you zoro hoes 💕

@posessedbytheinternet @notthemainblog

@smolracoon25 @xentaipriest @xitara666

@rouzuchan @southside-otaku @dimplewonie

#zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece

[lovebugism]

u ask for shy!reader here i come holding a request

shy reader who is used to ppl telling them they look better without glasses, only for steve to find out they actually do very much need them, especially to read

so steve finally encourages them to wear them more and make sure to tell them how cute they look with them

hi, angel! thanks for ur request! fellow glasses-wearers rise! (1.4k)

Six months, five days, and twelve hours — that’s how long Steve’s been your boyfriend. Not that he’s counting, of course. It takes him the same amount of time to find out that you wear glasses.

He always knew your vision wasn’t the greatest. You complained about it from time to time — the headaches and the blurriness — but he never thought it was bad because you never made a big deal about it. He figured it was more existential than urgent, the idea that you might need glasses in the future if your eyes ever worsened. 

He didn’t know they were already worse. 

It’s your first movie night together — “the first of many,” Steve lilted when he sat down on the couch beside you, with a bowl of popcorn in his hand and a kiss on your cheek. He liked the idea of that, of having a tradition with you. He liked knowing that a section of his busy week could be carved out just for the both of you.

And it’s not like you’ve never watched a movie together before. It’s just that usually, there are about five teenagers sandwiched between the two of you, not including Robin and Nancy. 

The former always insists on sitting on Steve’s left and only occasionally sharing her popcorn. The latter sits next to you and, halfway through the film, has already managed to convince you to leave with her and do something more fun.

But now, at eight o’clock, tucked tenderly away in your apartment, it’s just the two of you. 

And your terrible, terrible eyesight.

A quarter of the way through Beetlejuice, Steve catches you squinting at the television across the room.

You’re all wrapped up in his arms, lying on your sides on the small couch. Steve keeps you pressed against him to stop you from falling off the edge of it. One of his arms curls around your stomach and the other is balled into a fist to prop up his head.

He looks down at you, already smiling, and with a “Be honest, would you fuck Michael Keaton as Beetlejuice?” on the tip of his tongue. It fades when he notices your eyes are halfway closed.

For a second, he thinks you might be falling asleep. He can tell by your scrunched nose and quirked mouth that it’s something else entirely.

His hand squeezes your hip to get your attention. “Babe? You okay?”

“Huh?” you hum as you turn to him. The furrow between your brows dissipates when your eyes open to their fullest again.

“You’re squinting.”

Your mouth falls softly agape, as though in slight surprise. 

You hadn’t noticed it, really. You hardly ever do, but it’s been happening a lot more recently.

Just a week ago, Nancy pointed out how closely you held her newspaper to your face while trying to read it. After that, Dustin had been trying to show you a new VHS at Family Video but had to come about ten steps closer for you to see what it was.

“Oh. I didn’t realize…”

“Do you have a headache?” Steve asks, bushy brows pinched in concern. “Do you wanna turn the movie off?”

You shake your head against the pillow. “No. It’s fine.”

“Is it your eyes again? Can you see—”

“Yes, Steve,” you interject, laughing gently. “I can see the screen.”

“What’s the time say, then?”

“I can see,” you argue in a non-answer.

“Humor me.”

You huff. Then squint again.

The red numbers below the TV stand are mush. Your eyes try hopelessly to focus on them. With what you lack in eyesight, you make up for with confidence. “Nine… Thirty-six…” you answer with a nonchalant shrug.

Steve sputters out a laugh that fans against your cheek. He shakes his head in pity. “Babe…”

“What?”

“That’s not even close! It’s eight-fifty-five!” he chuckles with a pink smile and sparkling honey eyes. 

You roll your eyes at him in response. He leans down to kiss your cheek when you turn away from him again. 

“You gotta make an appointment to get your eyes checked, babe. You can’t just go through life not being able to see anything—”

“I have glasses,” you mumble.

“What? Since when?”

“I don’t know. Since, like, middle school,” you shrug. “I just don’t wear them.”

Steve, halfway offended, gapes at you in response. “…Why didn’t I know about this?”

“’Cause I don’t like wearing them. They make my eyes look funny. I hate it.”

“Where are they?”

“In my bedroom—” you answer absentmindedly, then whine when he starts to get up. “Steve, don’t! I’m comfortable!” 

“I’ll be right back,” the boy promises.

He shoves the covers down and climbs over your legs to get off the couch. He presses another kiss to your cheeks before he goes, like he can’t stand the idea of not kissing you every chance he gets.

He finds your glasses in a thin leather case in your desk drawer. They’re simple, rounded things — rimmed with silver and pretty in their minimalism. He rushes them back to you with a boyish excitement fluttering like a butterfly in his chest.

No one’s ever been this thrilled to see someone in a pair of glasses.

He beams at you when he hurries back into the living room.

You’ve already sat up against the back of the couch, not nearly as comfortable without Steve holding you. Your knees are brought up to your chest, the knitted blanket through over them and bunched at your lap. You meet his grin with a childlike scowl.

“Here. Put ‘em on,” he says, motioning the glasses to you.

“No,” you whine, flopping your head back against the couch.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Steve laughs. “They’re just glasses.”

“I don’t like them!”

“Why?” 

“‘Cause they make me look weird!”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Well, ask everyone who’s ever seen me in them,” you retort, halfway pouting. “I got made fun of for, like, six years when I wore them to school. Everyone called me Turtle until I graduated.”

A grin pulls at Steve’s lips. “Turtle?”

You nod shyly, looking at him through your lashes and trying not to smile back. “Yeah. ‘Cause I looked like Toby Turtle from Robin Hood—”

Steve doesn’t mean to laugh. It just sort of comes out. A big, boyish, hearty chuckle sputters from his mouth before he can stop it.

“Don’t laugh!” you scold, giggling alongside him.

“Well, now you have to put them on.”

Steve inches toward you with the glasses in hand. You don’t protest when he slips the sides over your ears and uses the knuckle of his forefinger to push them up the bridge of your nose. 

He steps back to admire you with a grin. Your girlish pout has returned to you, but it doesn’t look nearly as intimidating when you’re blinking up at him with unusually large eyes.

He shakes his head down at you. “You’re the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen, you know that?”

“Don’t lie,” you grouse. “I look like a bug.”

“Correction: the cutest bug.” 

He laughs when it makes you glower. 

He steps to the side and points to the clock again. “Can you see the time now?”

You look at it, then back to him. “Yeah… ’S Time for you to go home,” you deadpan.

“When’d you get so mean?” Steve lilt, beaming at you as he settles on the couch again. 

The two of you absentmindedly crawl back into your original positions. He lounges behind you and clutches you to his chest again. “You used to be so nice, Toby Turtle—”

“Don’t,” you protest, halfway smiling despite the glare you give him. You look almost owlish behind the thick lenses. "It's not funny."

“I’m just kidding, babe,” he promises. He sprinkles kisses to your face and laughs into each one. “I love them. I swear.”

“I’m glad someone does,” you murmur.

Steve pulls back with a grin, toeing the line between sincerity and mischief. “I’ll show how much I like ‘em later,” he teases quietly, squeezing the outside of your thigh where his hand rests. “I have a feeling I’m gonna have a lot of fun with these tonight.”

Your face heats at his words. Your nose scrunches, feigning disgust as you push him away.

“Perv,” you mumble, crossing your arms over your chest and turning so your back is pressed against him again.

“I thought Toby Turtle was supposed to be nice—”

“Steve!”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x shy!reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic #st drabbles #stevie drabble

[random-thot-generator]

Try a Little Tenderness

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem Reader

Summary: Simon has just returned home in the middle of the night from a mission in less than stellar condition. Understanding that he was in desperate need of some TLC, you put aside the ‘frenemy’ dynamic the two of you usually operate within to take care of him, instead. Your gentle ministrations elicit a reaction that neither of you expect, but perhaps have been yearning for all along.

Warnings: Language, explicit sexual content, touching of naughty bits - Simon gets a helping hand in the bath, fluff and feelings, no Y/N

(A/N: This is a thot connected to an idea I had for a series. Still not sure about the series, but what ev. 

This is just me exploring the intimate relationship between the characters. It is minor smut compared to what I usually write, meant to be a vulnerable moment for Simon, and for reader as well. I dunno, I feel like a certain amount of trust needs to be established before Simon allows himself to be with someone in an intimate way. 

For a little backstory, Reader is Simon’s housekeeper/roommate/frenemy. It’s been platonic up to this point, but there have been some charged moments leading up to this. This is the turning point in the relationship, the first time Simon allows himself to really indulge in reader’s attention and care. Reader and Simon have been living together for about a year by this point but have known each other for almost two. Simon’s pet name for reader is ‘Doll’; reader’s pet name for Simon is ‘Grumpy’.)

Word Count: 2777

It was almost midnight by the time Simon shuffled through his front door. He was dead on his feet, still wearing the same clothes he put on three days ago, covered in filth and stinking to high hell. He would normally have stayed on base, cleaned up, ate and retired to his quarters to rest, but for some reason, he’d texted you mid-flight to tell you he was on his way back. He hadn’t been expecting an immediate answer, but he got one.

[DOLL]: What’s ur ETA? I’ll wait up 4 u. Have u eaten? 

Simon had hovered over his phone, glancing about the plane, not sure how to respond. He supposed he didn’t have to stay on base. He’d just never had a reason to return home before. He knew he should tell you not to wait up, to go to bed, that he would see you tomorrow, but instead he found himself tapping out a different message.

[GRUMPY]: Landing in twenty. Be home approx 2hrs.

[DOLL]: I’ll be waiting. C u soon.

He re-read the message several times. ‘I’ll be waiting.’ This was new for him, having someone to go home to, having someone there expecting him, waiting up to see him. Sure, he had come home to you before, but not like this. This was... premeditated.

As he closed the door behind him and locked it, he heard your feet padding through the sitting room and turned. He couldn’t help the smile that spread under the balaclava when he saw you. You were dressed in one of his old T-shirts, a pair of flannel sleep shorts peeking out beneath the hem, and a pair of those ugly fuzzy socks on your feet. Your hair was loose and hanging down your back, not quite dry yet from an earlier shower, and your face was free of makeup. He liked seeing you like this better than any other way.

You were looking at him in that direct way that always got to him, assessing him, checking him over. He waited for one of your customary snarky greetings, but instead your brows furrowed.

“You look exhausted, Si. C’mere. Sit down,” you instructed, pointing at the entryway bench. Simon didn’t even hesitate, just did as he was told. He watched you kneel before him and start unlacing his boots.

“Ya don’t got t’do that, Doll. I can―“

“Si, hush,” you murmured, your voice soft and gentle. “I got this, okay? You’re home. Relax.”

He didn’t have it in him to argue, so let you have your way. You removed his boots and stuck them under the bench by his trainers, then stood and held your hand out. “C’mon. You need a bath.”

He let you lead him up the stairs, but instead of taking him to his ensuite bathroom, you led him down the hallway to the bathroom that you used. You motioned for him to sit down on the toilet while you stoppered the tub and turned on the taps. He watched with curiosity as you opened the cabinet below the sink, taking out a glass jar filled with some sort of pinkish granules, sprinkling a generous portion of it into the filling tub.

“Wha’s that?”

“Epsom salts with lavender and eucalyptus. It’ll help ease your sore muscles,” you told him, replacing the jar in the cabinet. You turned to look him over again. “Let’s get you out of those dirty clothes. I’ll get you some clean ones once you’re in the bath. C’mon. Arms up.”

Simon thought about objecting. He was a grown man, he could undress himself, but as soon as he felt your hands on him, all complaints went right out the window. He held his arms out so you could pull the tail of his shirt out of the waistband of his jeans, shivering when he felt your fingers graze his lats as you peeled it up and over his head.

“I smell like shite,” he grumbled, embarrassed for you to be this close to him when he was in such a disgusting state.

You huffed, the sound low and amused. “You smell like a soldier who just got back from deployment. Believe me, I’ve smelled worse.” You motioned for him to stand again. Once he regained his feet, your hands went to his waist, undoing the belt and pulling it free, then you undid the button and fly of his jeans. You pushed them down until they bunched around his knees, then instructed him to lean on you while you tugged them off his legs.

And he just... let you. He had not had anyone care for him like this since his last stint in the medical bay, and that had been a male nurse with hands rougher than his own. He’d not had a woman care for him like this since he was a small boy, when his mother would get him ready for his bath. He felt his chest constrict, almost told you to stop, but your hand on the back of his calf silenced him.

“Foot up,” you said, letting him lean on you again as you stripped off first one sock and then the other. Once you straightened, you placed a hand at the small of his back and gave him a gentle push towards the tub. “I’ll go get you some clean clothes while you get in,” you said, then stooped to gather up his dirty things. “Be back in a minute.”

You left him staring after you, disappearing down the hallway. He turned back to the tub, eyeing the hot water lapping at the sides. Aromatic steam rose from its surface, too tempting to ignore. Pushing his underwear off his hips, he let them drop on the floor and stepped out of them, then climbed into the tub.

He groaned long and low as the hot water enveloped him, certain he had never felt anything better in his whole life. Closing his eyes, he dropped his head back on the edge, only then realizing that he still had on his balaclava. He hesitated for a moment, then reached up and pulled it off as well, dropping the dirty hood on top of his underwear. Fuck it. You’d seen his face before and hadn’t made a big deal out of it, didn’t even comment on it, really, just took it in stride like you did everything else.

He cracked an eye open when you re-entered the room, watching as you placed his clean clothes on the counter next to the sink. You opened another cabinet and removed some towels and a washcloth, glanced over at him, then opened a drawer and took out what looked like a pack of wipes and a squat, plastic jar with a pink lid. You brought it all to the tub with you and knelt by the side, near his head. You held up the pack of wipes and pointed at the black paint around his eyes.

“Figured these would help take that gunk off. I’ve got some cold cream, too. Can I...”

You wanted to touch his face. His mouth dropped open to say no, but then he closed it and swallowed. You were looking right at him, a normal expression on your face, not flinching away or averting your eyes. If it didn’t bother you, then he would allow it. For now. He gave a slow nod of assent.

You opened the pack of wipes and set them beside you, then opened the cold cream. “Lean your head back and close your eyes for me.”

Simon did as he was told, though his brain was sounding a klaxon alarm in his head. He was exposing his throat to someone, was closing his eyes and leaving himself vulnerable to your mercy. Did you see how tense he was? Could you see the muscles spasming as he fought not to move, to push you away, to fend you off like an enemy? Did you understand what this was doing to him right now?

Apparently, you did, at least to some extent. 

“Okay, Si. I’m going to put this cream around your eyes. It will feel cold, so don’t freak out. If you need to stop, just say the word. Alright?”

“Yeah,” he croaked out, waiting, steeling himself for the contact.

The first touch had him flinching, but he forced himself to remain still as you spread the cream around his eyes, working it in with your fingers in small circular motions. When you finished, you set the jar down and picked up the wipes. “I’m gonna clean all this off with these wipes. They’ll feel cold, too.”

This time, he only nodded, more relaxed now. Your touch had been soothing once he’d gotten used to it. It was... nice. He didn’t even twitch an eyelash when he felt the cool pressure of your fingers against his jaw, letting you tilt his head towards you. Your other hand began wiping gently at his face with one of the wipes. They smelled slightly floral, similar to the cold cream; he liked it.

It took several minutes to clean his face, neither of you saying anything. You were patient and methodical, cleaning away all the paint until none of it remained.

“Okay. Done with that,” you murmured, fingers moving from his face to his hair. “I’m going to wash your hair next, okay?”

“Hm,” he hummed in consent, not even bothering to open his eyes.

You wet his hair and then poured shampoo into your palm, working your hands together before placing them on his head. As your fingers curled and began to work his hair into a lather, Simon couldn’t help the low groan that rumbled out. It felt like heaven, the way your fingers massaged his scalp and neck. He could have whined when you stopped, but his breath hitched when he felt your fingertips under his chin, tilting his head back.

“Just need to rinse your hair, Grumpy. Keep your eyes closed.”

Again, he did as you instructed, not offering so much as a grunt of complaint when you rinsed his hair and then used the washcloth to dry his face. You raked your fingers through his hair, noting how choppy and uneven it was. Maybe he’d let you cut it some time, but for now, you would stick to what you knew he would allow.

“How ‘bout I wash your back for you and then I’ll go downstairs and make you something to eat while you finish your bath?”

He blinked his eyes open and stared at you. The steam and trapped heat from the bath were making you sweat, a light sheen making your skin gleam in the warm light. He had the sudden urge to run his thumb up your throat, collect the moisture beading there and taste it. He felt his cock give a twitch of interest below the water and brought his bent knees closer together. Grasping the edges of the tub, he pulled himself in to a sitting position, back bowed towards you.

Pleased to see him so cooperative, you dunked the washcloth in the water and grabbed your body wash, squirting out a couple of dollops. Working the cloth in your hands until you had a good lather, you rested one hand on his shoulder and used the other to slowly scrub the cloth over his back in large circles. You could feel the tension easing out of his shoulders, watched his head tip forward until he finally crossed his forearms on his knees and rested his forehead against them.

When you were done with his back, you didn’t stop, moving up to his shoulders and then down his arm. He leaned back, studying the way you washed each finger, working the cloth between them. You glanced up at him. “Other arm?”

He twisted around and held his arm out to you, resting his wrist on the edge of the tub. You washed it with as much care as you had the other, leaning over the tub to reach his underarm. When you went to slide the cloth away, he caught your wrist and pulled it to the center of his chest. He then closed his eyes and leaned back, letting his head rest against the edge again.

Slow circles worked the lathered cloth over his broad chest and collarbones, and you smiled when he tipped his chin up to let you wash his neck. A soft breath hissed between his lips as your hand dipped below the water’s surface to wash his sides and stomach, his brows ticking together when you brought the cloth back up. He shifted, his knees going wide to lean against the sides of the tub.

You were beginning to feel heat simmering in your lower belly that sent a blush creeping up your neck. “Do, uh... I can wash your legs next. If you like.”

He caught your hand in his, eyes still closed, and pushed it beneath the water again. “Wash here,” he replied, his voice like gravel in his throat.

You held your breath as he guided your hand down to his cock, let him wrap your fingers around its swollen girth and hold them there. His chest was rising and falling, chin tipping forward to rest on it when he felt you grip him tighter. Your lips parted as you gave him a tentative stroke, your breath puffing out in little pants as you watched him let out a shuddering breath, his eyes rolling open to reveal a lust-dazed expression before sliding closed again.

Your hand slid up and down his shaft in slow, even strokes, working him gradually, wanting him to enjoy what you were doing to him. His pleasure incited your own, and you could feel your panties grow damp with your arousal as you watched him slowly fall apart. He was panting now, head lolling back once more, hooded, hazy eyes staring up at the ceiling, his knuckles going white as they gripped the edge of the tub.

Your thighs squeezed together when a wrecked moan tore from his lips as you worked at him beneath the cloudy water, wishing it was clear enough for you to see him as well as feel him. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, the feel of his hot length pulsing in your hand almost too much to bear.

“Ah, fuck...” he huffed out, his back beginning to curl forward. He lifted his eyes to yours, mouth open and panting, a look of near desperation on his face. His hand came up to grip the nape of your neck, drawing you close until his forehead rested against yours, holding your gaze. His nose brushed against yours in an intimate caress, lips almost touching, the two of you sharing the same air. “Don’t stop,” he husked out.

The speed of your strokes increased, your hand slipping up to focus on the head, making his knees draw up as he tensed. You could feel him swelling in your hand, growing bigger and harder as he neared his release. His eyes grew wide, mouth falling open as his jaw went slack.

“It’s okay, Simon,” you whispered to him, “I got you,” and that was all the prompting he needed.

His grip turned into a vice on the nape of your neck as he erupted beneath the surface of the water, and he growled against your mouth, teeth gritting into a snarl as he pulsed in your hand. You didn’t stop stroking him until his eyes closed and grip loosened on your neck, his breaths puffing out in exerted gasps over your lips.

You let him rest against you, not bothering to move or say anything, wanting him to have this quiet moment, to just relax in the knowledge that he was home and safe, that you were here for him. You closed your eyes and let yourself enjoy the moment as well, relishing the quiet, the peace.

Simon’s eyes flickered open, not sure what to expect, only to find your eyes closed, lashes shadowing your cheeks, a gentle smile on your face. You looked so calm, so at peace. You looked... content.

You blinked your eyes open, startled, when you felt the hesitant press of his lips against yours, but you didn’t shy away, instead letting him feel you smile against his lips before you tenderly kissed him back.

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