#just doing a little every day helps me a lot physically and emotionally | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

roosterforme · 6 months

Text

Always Ever Only You Part 16 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You're convinced you and Bradley could go on the same date a million times over, and you would find something new to love about it each time. You don't want the weekend to come to an end, but at least you get to enjoy time with a favorite visitor on Sunday evening.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, smut, pregnancy discussion

Length: 5000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

Bradley was dressed and lounging back on the pillows with his arms tucked behind his head. You were getting ready to go out, and he was thoroughly enjoying watching you put on your red lingerie. His favorite set.

"We could just stay in," he murmured as you clasped your bra and rolled your eyes. Your face was made up and you were standing at the foot of the bed wearing barely anything at all. "We should just stay in."

You scoffed and said, "You should let Tramp out so we can leave in twenty minutes. I want to eat hot sauce with my sexy husband."

"Fine," Bradley sighed with a smile, pausing in the doorway to watch you slip your red dress over your head. The same one you wore on your first date together. The one Bradley loved you in every time you wore it. And then he walked through the kitchen to let Tramp outside. Your new French press was on the counter along with the half unpacked Amazon box that neither of you had time to get to all week. But he reached inside and pulled out one of his new notebooks and took a pen out of the drawer.

Bradley had been working late all week for various reasons. He'd missed a lot while he was deployed. Plus the Slayer and Dean court-martial was moving ahead. And also, Maverick had offered him the chance to meet some pilots fresh out of flight school with the promise that Bradley could help with some training exercises in the coming months. He was tired. Next month was his thirty-seventh birthday. He was feeling his age.

He clicked the pen in his hand and opened the notebook to the first page.

My wife does this thing, and it drives me absolutely wild. When I tell her I'm tired or point out a gray hair in my mustache or mention that I've been feeling my age, she just laughs at me. Sure, I can still run ten miles and lift weights for hours on end, but she can wear me out in an instant. Emotionally, mentally, or physically. She can say one sentence to me like, "I want to go eat hot sauce with my sexy husband," and I am emotionally tanked for the rest of the day. Because I fucking believe her. She actually does want to eat her favorite food with me. And she actually does think I'm sexy. And she's too smart, so trying to keep up with her mentally drains me every single time. And physically... Well. That's where she manages to

"You ready to go, Roo?" you asked, walking into the kitchen looking exactly like you had more than a year and a half ago when you and he were just starting to fall in love. Well, he was already half in love with you by the time that first date rolled around. And by the end of the night, he was a goner.

"What's wrong?" you asked, reaching out for his hand with a little crease between your eyebrows.

"Nothing," he rasped as his eyes dipped down to your cleavage. "Just thinking about how I don't even have to try to play it cool tonight, unlike on our first date." He leaned down and kissed your lips softly and then added, "You look fucking incredible."

"I don't care what you say, we're not staying in for the night," you whispered, running your fingers along his tattoo and pulling him in for a kiss that was clearly at odds with your words.

"Whatever you say, Sweetheart," Bradley replied. He let Tramp back inside and then walked out to the Bronco with your hand in his. And then he got to do one of his favorite things. He opened the door for you, helped you climb in, and buckled your seatbelt. But as he started to pull his right hand away from your body, you caught it and held him close.

"Hey," you whispered. "I don't have to try to play it cool tonight either."

"No?" he asked, his eyes fluttering closed as your lips met his.

"No. I love you so much," you replied. "And I would go on the same date with you a million times, because each time would be a little different, and I know I would remember them all."

Bradley could feel goosebumps on your arm, and your eyes looked a little vulnerable. Last time you and he had visited the hot sauce restaurant and the pier from your first date, it had been on your birthday. And you cried that night. A lot. Because you wanted to be pregnant, but you weren't. He briefly wondered how many other times you'd cried for that reason that he didn't even know about.

He wanted a baby. He still did. But it wasn't his top priority. He understood now how much you'd let it hurt you month after month. And it wasn't the same for him. He knew that now. And he didn't want you to feel like you were failing yourself, your relationship or him ever again. Because you weren't. You were more than enough.

"I remember every minute I've ever spent with you, Sweetheart. And I dream about it when I'm deployed. And I want to have decades of stuff to remember."

"Just keep feeding me hot sauce."

"I fucking plan on it."

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

The ride up to Del Mar was beautiful. The sky faded from orange to purple as Bradley drove and sang along to his Motown playlist with his hand on your thigh. You thought about how you had a panic attack on your birthday after the negative pregnancy tests, but the memory of it didn't hurt as much now.

"What are you thinking about, Baby Girl?"

You glanced at your husband out of the corner of your eye as he parallel parked the Bronco in front of the restaurant. "Honestly?"

He met your eyes briefly as he straightened out the tires. "Yeah, honestly."

"I still want to have a baby, Roo," you said easily, this time without your heart aching. "I still think about it. But it doesn't make me upset like it used to."

He killed the engine, and coaxed you over to his lap. "Come here." When you were settled on him with your hands on his shoulders, he kissed you. "I still think about it, too. I still want it. But not at the expense of this," he added, gesturing between his body and yours before he let his big hand settle on your hip. "I don't want anything at the expense of this."

You took a deep breath and nodded. "Neither do I. And I know we agreed we can talk about this at length in a few more months, but I don't want to stop trying. And if there's still something wrong after a year, maybe we can talk to some doctors?"

"There's nothing wrong with us, okay? There's never going to be anything wrong. But if we still don't get pregnant, there are other options," he told you gently. "Like... fertility treatment or adoption agencies. But whatever we do, it's 50/50. We do it together. And I promise I'll take care of you better than I did before."

You were silent for a beat, because these were things you'd already thought about. "Yeah?"

He nodded. "I'm just saying, if we want a baby, there are other ways to make it happen. But I'm never going to stop wanting to fuck you, so don't think for a second that we're taking that off the table."

You shook with silent laughter before your giggles bubbled over. "Okay, we won't take that off the table, Roo."

He kissed your cheek and said, "Keep your pussy on the table." But he was laughing too, and you felt really good inside. His hands were heavy on your hips, and his lips were nipping at your neck. "Just let me feed you hot sauce and love you, and then we'll figure the rest out later if we even need to. I wanna give it a little more time, okay? Some more time with you off birth control. Some more time with us just being us. Like this."

"Yes," you agreed. "This is perfect. This feels good."

Now he was rubbing his mustache along your cleavage, and you knew you needed to get him inside the restaurant while you still could. "I'm hungry," you whispered.

"Me too," he agreed with a smirk.

"For dinner," you clarified with a laugh.

When you finally got him inside the restaurant, you could hear his stomach growling, so you didn't feel too bad. "Order two meals you want to try, Baby Girl," he said casually once you were seated.

You loved it when he let you do that, which was most of the time. And he always let you finish whichever one you liked better. And he never complained. You could feel his eyes on your body when you walked around to look at all the hot sauces on the shelves. Every time you glanced at him across the restaurant, he gave you a little nod or a wink. And there was no doubt in your mind that you were just as attracted to him now as you were the first time you were here.

When you brought some that you wanted to try back to your table, a brand new bottle of your favorite green sauce was sitting next to your favorite beer. "How am I supposed to deal with you, Bradley?"

"It's your favorite. And it's a tradition."

You laughed. "You bought me a whole case of 12 bottles online."

"You go through a bottler per week."

"That's actually fair."

Then your meals were delivered to the table, and you doused both of them in a rainbow of sauces and started eating. The two of you ended up sharing both meals, because you couldn't decide which one you liked better. And that one beer made you feel calm, and now Bradley's cheeks were rosy. After your conversation in the Bronco and the past week with him, you felt like all of the weight and pressure you put on yourself was easing up.

After dinner, you were laughing as he led you down the sidewalk with his arm wrapped around your waist. And you couldn't keep your hands off him either. "Why are we passing the Bronco? We should go home."

"Not yet," he whispered in your ear.

You gasped. "Are we going back to the silent disco?"

"Well," he rasped, looking at you with a wince. "Not exactly. I've been trying to get you back there for one, but they always seem to be when I'm deployed. But I had another idea. Let's walk down the pier."

You snorted. "You just want a handjob."

"Please," he replied, leading you across the street and down the pier. "Give me a little credit. I don't just want a handjob."

"Well that's good, because there are a lot of people out tonight," you whispered as he spun you around so your back was pressed against the railing and you were looking up at his face. "You're really handsome."

His cheeks were still rosy, but you thought perhaps your words had deepened the color. You ran your fingers along his scarred neck and across his cheek and into his hair. His eyes closed as he enjoyed your touch, and you studied him closely. He looked a little older than when you met him, with a few gray hairs here and there and maybe another wrinkle or two on his face. He'd been through a lot since then. He had the scars on his arm to prove it. But you didn't want to add emotional scars; he had plenty of those already. You just let him melt into your right hand as your left rested on his chest, and you looked at your diamond ring.

It was yours now, but sometimes you still thought of it as Carole Bradshaw's ring. Not in a bad way. Just as a form of recognition. It felt like an honor that you were wearing something so special. Maybe that was thanks in part to the words Bradley had read to you from his notebook. His recent thoughts and musings. But it was clear that some things were more important than others.

"I love you," he murmured, eyes still closed. "Are you ready for your newest playlist?"

"What is it?" you asked, his question pulling you back to the pier and the grin on his face.

"Just a little something I've been thinking about and finally put together." He pulled his earbuds out of his pocket and held one up for you to take. Then he tucked the other one in his own ear and kissed your nose. "It's all the songs I can remember from the silent disco. Plus what we listened to in the car that night. Oh, and a surprise track. Because I know you'll think it's funny."

Your heart swelled as you slid the earbud into place, and a few seconds later, the Cher song that played at the silent disco was on. And your heart was beating a little faster. And you couldn't stop smiling. "You really remembered all the songs we heard that night?"

Bradley shrugged. "I may have missed some. We'll add them if you remember more, okay?"

"I love this," you gasped, throwing your arms around his neck. "I love you."

He kissed your jaw and whispered, "I told you... I remember every minute I've spent with you. Or at least the way you've made me feel at any given time. Maybe the memories of some of the songs are a little hazy for me, but I remember how fucking good you made me feel that night. And how I was proud to be there with you. I still feel that way."

"Fuck, Bradley. You can't make me cry while Britney Spears is playing."

He laughed. "Okay. Let's dance then."

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

It was dark out. The other people who had been enjoying the view of the ocean from the pier had dissipated. An orange glow from the scattered lampposts softly lit your face like a dream. Bradley had taken to singing all the songs to you, just to hear you laugh and sing along yourself. The random mix of pop songs and '80s ballads and romantic Motown tunes kept a smile on your face. You laughed when Hey Soul Sister played, and you threatened to text Nat. And the whole time, Bradley held you close with his hands at your hips and waist.

"Oh," he said when the music went silent. "That's the end of the playlist."

"It's over?" you asked, leaning back against the railing and looking up at him longingly. You removed your earbud and handed it back to him.

"Baby Girl, it was almost three hours long," he informed you with a laugh.

You tipped your head back and groaned. "It was perfect." Then you gasped softly as his lips found the pretty expanse of your neck and chest which were on display for him. He was sucking gently on your collarbone as you said, "I knew I was in trouble after the first time you brought me here. You were so sincere that night."

Bradley hummed against your warm skin. "I was already thinking about spending the rest of my life with you."

"No! Stop it. We had just met." Your voice sounded breathy as he drew little shapes along your dress with his thumbs, your head still tipped back.

"Didn't matter. Already knew."

Your hands slid up from his shoulders into his hair, and he nibbled along the tops of your breasts as you made the sweetest little sounds. Your nipples were tight peaks against the fabric of your dress, and when Bradley ran his lips lower to feel you, he groaned. The texture of your lace bra filled his imagination with possibilities.

You tilted your head up, and when he met your eyes, you had the audacity to look surprised. "You're hard, Roo."

He raised one eyebrow at you, just short of rolling his eyes. "Listen... when two people love each other very, very much..."

Your laughter filled him. "Oh, is that how this works? You know, that sentence can be interpreted a lot of ways."

He had to close his eyes as you gently squeezed his length through his jeans. "It's how it works with you." He huffed out a breath when you licked his ear and added, "You make me greedy. I want everything."

You hummed softly as you unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. Bradley glanced around to make sure you and he were truly alone as you whispered, "Then let's have everything. Even if it takes some time."

"I love that," he groaned as your cool hand dipped inside his boxer briefs and closed around him. One stroke and he was putty in your hands.

"And we'll start with the handjob that I was seriously contemplating giving you on our first date."

"Oh fuck, Sweetheart. You're too much." Bradley bucked against your belly as you ran your thumb along his balls. He'd let you go a little further with this, but then he was taking you home for the night. Just a little more. Each stroke was incredible as he kissed your lips.

But when you started asking him questions, he should have known he was in trouble. Because you always got unbridled information out of him when you put him in situations like this. "What do you want for your birthday, Roo?"

He was watching your hand pass over his tip as he grunted, "Another sexy calendar."

"That can be arranged," you said sweetly. "And how do you feel about me starting to save up some money for a first anniversary trip?"

"Do it," he growled as you rubbed at his precum with your thumb. But then he wrenched his hips away, and your eyes were transfixed on his cock as it leapt for you.

"You don't want to finish here?" you asked, your eyes moving up his body to his face as you licked him from your thumb.

After he zipped himself carefully back in his jeans, he said, "I don't want to ruin your dress, and I don't want to get arrested. Let's go home." He didn't even wait for you to respond. He just turned and picked you up for a piggy back ride back to the Bronco.

The drive home was similar to that very first date. After you kissed him while he fumbled with your seat belt trying buckle you in, he turned on another playlist before he started the engine. But this time he was driving to the house that you shared, not the apartment you used to live in with Maria. And he didn't have to leave you for the night to prove to himself that he could, and that maybe he was good enough. He was your husband now, and you had deemed him good enough for you.

Bradley's hand was gripping your thigh as he saw the craftsman down the block. As soon as he was pulling into the driveway, you were crawling toward him, and he barely had the Bronco in park before you were straddling his thighs.

"I want you in every way." That sentence was the best example of how you wore him out emotionally. It was fucking beautiful, and he could spend all night just thinking about it. But you were kissing him now, and he was already aroused again as he finally turned the key in the ignition.

"You own me." You really seemed to love that response as your lips stayed gentle on his and your hand drifted down his body to his zipper again. It was so dark outside, even in the neighborhood, but Bradley could see the question in your eyes as you pulled back a little bit. Maybe you wanted to make sure he wanted this, too. Maybe you wanted him inside you instead of anything else. He just wanted to be with you. "Anything you want, Sweetheart."

"Okay."

He shimmied his jeans and underwear down his hips, lifting you up as well with a soft laugh. Then you took his hands in yours and guided them slowly up under your dress. He was treated to the sight of you unzipping your dress and unclasping your bra and pulling them down so he could see your pretty tits and peaked nipples. But then his hands froze under your dress.

"You changed your underwear. Earlier tonight. After I left the bedroom."

Your laughter had your tits bouncing just enough to distract Bradley and lure his lips to them.

"Oh!" you gasped as he sucked on you. "I did. I know you like the red ones, but I wanted these instead. Do you know which ones they are?"

That was a ridiculous question, and you knew it. He ran his thumb up your slit and could feel the satin fabric and the fancy embroidered letters as you bucked. He sucked harder until you called out his name and braced your hands on his shoulders. You were wearing the underwear you had specially made for the honeymoon.

"Of course I know, Mrs. Bradshaw."

"You passed the test!"

Bradley tugged your panties to the side and thrust up into you in one fluid motion until he bottomed out. "That's a test I will always pass."

Your hands were scrambling around his neck as you leaned in closer and kissed him. He led your hips in a slow roll with his hands on your ass and whispered, "Just. Like. That."

You kept the pace going, already panting softly as he brought one hand back up to your tits. His other fingers trailed around your hip, and he tucked them inside the front of your panties. As soon as he brushed your clit with his knuckle, you whined for him. "Daddy."

It had been a while since he heard you call him that. And fuck if he didn't love it. But you looked almost surprised that you'd said it out loud, eyes wide as you rode him.

"I fucking love it when you call me that," he crooned as he pinched your nipple. Your pussy was already fluttering around him as you kept that perfect tempo. Bradley pressed his mouth to yours as you babbled incoherently, and it was just a lost cause as you raked your fingers through his hair. He came inside you as he kept pressing his knuckle to your clit.

"Come on, Sweetheart," he coaxed as your movements sped up and then slowed as your cries echoed inside the Bronco. Then your lips were all over his before you abruptly broke away.

Your voice was a sweet little gasp as you said, "Don't make a mess on the upholstery."

With a laugh rumbling deep in his chest, Bradley opened the door and lifted you down from the driver's seat. "Just one of the many reasons we're married."

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

You and Bradley were lounging in bed on Sunday morning, and he was doing a really poor job of making you want to leave to meet Cam and Maria for brunch.

"Aren't you supposed to be golfing today?" you asked with a laugh as he pinned your wrists over your head on the pillow.

"Yep," he replied softly. "Supposed to meet Jake, Javy and Bob in less than an hour."

You sighed as his lips met the underside of your breast. "Shouldn't you be getting dressed then?"

"I'd rather go for round three and then drink champagne in the bathtub with you."

Now that did sound nice. The weekend had been so much fun. Going up to the hot sauce restaurant had been perfect. You were exhausted all over from having sex and taking Tramp on long beach walks and staying up too late watching movies last night. And Bradley finished reading his notebook to you and promised he'd start from the beginning all over again. Frankly, you could use a nap already, so you weren't really sure how Bradley was doing so well at the moment.

"I'm supposed to go to brunch," you whispered, and Bradley rolled off of you with a groan.

"I'll get side eye for a month from Maria and Cam if you don't go," he said. "So I guess I'll just go play golf."

"We can do round three later," you promised, kissing his ear as you climbed out of bed and started to get ready. "You want me to bring you back some avocado toast?" you asked with a smile.

He made a disgusted face. "You know I hate that stuff. I'll just day drink and eat protein bars like a normal person until you feed me dinner."

"If I decide to feed you dinner later."

Bradley's face looked panicked. "You have to. Please? Sweetheart," he called, springing out of bed and following you to the bathroom. "Please?"

"You're ridiculous, Bradley. Go get a pack of chicken out of the freezer, and I'll make you some Marry Me Rooster tonight."

"Thank you." He kissed you so long and so passionately, you actually felt a little dizzy when he walked out of the room. "He's ridiculous," you muttered as you pressed your fingertips to your lips.

When you finally made it to brunch fifteen minutes late, Cam was glaring at you. "Maria wouldn't let me order anything until you got here. And I'll just bet you're late because Lieutenant Commander Mustache was doing something nasty to you."

You burst into laughter as you slid into the booth next to him. "I mean... I was just helping him with his golf clubs."

"The two of you are fucking filthy," he replied, flagging down the waitress while you and Maria laughed.

Brunch with the two of them was always fun, and you were on your second mimosa when Bradley texted you.

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: Jake wants to know if we can watch Jeremiah tonight if he can manage to get Cat to agree to go to a movie. I told him I had to check with the boss. He laughed and said he should have just texted you instead of asking me... oh wait, I think he's texting you now. Why did I even bother? And then you got a text from Jake asking very nicely if he and Cat could drop Jeremiah off later on their way to a movie. You told them both yes, and when you got home from brunch, you started to clean up the living room. You found your underwear from last night on the coffee table, and your bra was draped over the arm of the couch.

"Don't look at me like that," you told Tramp. "We were just having a good time, okay?" Then you smiled, because you knew that your pup was going to love licking crumbs off of the one year old visitor and following him around the room. "Your friend is coming over. I expect you to be well behaved."

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

"He's just so fucking cute."

"Roo! Stop swearing in front of the child!"

Bradley looked up at you from all fours on the living room floor. "Isn't he too young for it to matter?" he asked in all seriousness.

You were gaping at him like he was an idiot, and he started laughing. "The last thing I need is Cat mad at me because his first word is the f-word."

Bradley rolled his eyes. "If he doesn't learn it from me, then I'm sure he'll learn it from Jake."

"Yeah, well that's Jake's problem," you muttered, ducking back into the kitchen to check on dinner.

Bradley scooped Jeremiah up and said, "You're so freaking cute. Is that better?" The little bubble of laughter he got in response was most likely a yes, so he just went with it. "Let's see here. It's almost dinner time. And then I'll bet my hot wife will read us that book about trucks that you liked so much."

"I'll read it now," you said as you walked back into the room. "Dinner is not quite ready yet."

"Hell yes, she's going to read it to us now," Bradley said as he and Jeremiah crawled across the floor to the diaper bag where the book was stashed. He unzipped it and watched the kid reach in and pull everything out including the book. "Nice work. But my knees can't take much more."

With a groan, Bradley scooped him and the book up and carried them to the couch where you were sitting with Tramp. And you looked calm and relaxed as you held the child on your lap and opened the book. Your voice was so sweet, and you were so beautiful, Bradley noticed that Jeremiah seemed more interested in you than the story at times. And it made him smile, because that was pretty much the same way he always looked at you, too.

But he was done stressing about all of it. Bradley was in love with you, and the weekend was everything he wanted. Having a kid like Jeremiah all to yourselves would be a cherry on top of an already perfect life. And if you and he were both still keen on the idea next year, there were options to be discussed at length.

Bradley let himself hope, just the tiniest bit, that maybe you and he would get lucky before then. But he wouldn't drown in that hope like he had before. And he wouldn't let that hope overshadow how great things were right now. But he wouldn't abandon it either. He laughed as he thought about how insightful his notebook entry was going to be later tonight after Jeremiah got picked up.

"Should I read it again?" you asked, looking up at Bradley.

He kissed your cheek. "At least one more time, Sweetheart. We can't get enough of your voice."

You smiled as he and Jeremiah settled in to hear the favorite story again.

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

The perfect date to do over and over. Little Jeremiah is too sweet, I'm just hoping Cat and Jake are enjoying themselves, too. Just hang in there guys... Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 17

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@throwinsauce

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@bradshawsbitch

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

535 notes · View notes

wordbunch · 10 months

Text

SFW Alphabet: Legolas

a/n: no idea who requested it, but boy am I glad they did!!! 💛 it will be big (just like my love for him) cause I got carried away, but I do hope you will enjoy it!! feedback and reblogs are always SO appreciated and mean a lot to me. and once again, Legolas is so AAAAA 😍😍😍

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) He is very affectionate and incredibly warm, subtly in front of others, but almost boundlessly when you two are alone. In a dangerous situation, even if you’re not alone, he won’t hesitate, though, to hug you as tightly as he needs to in order to reassure both himself and you that everything is alright. Legolas shows affection in any way possible: hugs, kisses wherever he can reach, holding your hand or just having a hand on your back/shoulders in public, touching your hair, even in the way he looks at you it is obvious how smitten he is.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?) He would honestly be an amazing friend (canon!), loyal to a fault, protective, and even if paths of life take you away from each other, he’d always have love for you. It would start perhaps during an adventure of his? If not, maybe even in childhood. He really gives me lifelong friends vibes.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?) To be fair, he didn’t have many cuddle sessions in his life, so he’s not exactly completely used to them, but he will savor every opportunity to shower his beloved with love so… if that is your preferred way of showing affection, he totally has nothing against it! But it wouldn’t be his number one expression of love and physical closeness. However, he cannot and won’t say no to a cuddle session after a demanding day, and he is quite a big fan of being the little spoon or laying with his head on your chest as your fingers brush through his shiny hair.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?) He is a tidy person and he can clean his space decently well, but he cannot cook - a prince doesn’t exactly have to. If that is something you enjoy, he loves to hang around while you do it and he asks you questions, and offers to help, but he really isn’t too good at it. And regarding settling down, he is quite a youthful and restless spirit, but he is certain he wants to be where you are, no matter where it is. And if you’re willing to accompany him to random journeys and adventures and just be free together, he would be inexplicably happy.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) not today :) hope this helps!

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?) I feel like elves would be very proper regarding those things, and he is a prince so it would be kind of expected of him to get married. Before falling for you, he wasn’t extremely keen on the idea, and he would have done it if necessary for the stability of his realm, but you turned his world upside down and he wants nothing more but to be yours forever. Honestly he would like being kind of a trophy husband?? And he is so proud of being with you so he would like to officially crown your love. “Quickly” is a very relative term when it comes to elves… but I feel like he would go for it as soon as you give him a hint that you might want the same.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?) VERY. Yes, he might be a super skilled warrior in many aspects, but when it comes to you, his touch is as light as a feather, and so are his lips against your skin, and his voice when he whispers words of adoration. I’d say that emotionally he’s really unproblematic, and attuned to his emotions, and he would be very careful with yours. Unless he’s having a really terrible day, then he might accidentally snap at you for nothing, but he regrets it in a millisecond; he’s still pretty young after all, and sometimes a random impulse will take over.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) He likes hugs and they’re one of the surest ways to comfort him if something is bothering him. Legolas basically melts into your embrace. Maybe you’re the one who initiates it a bit more, but you know how dear they are to him and you know they’re something that makes him feel very loved. When he hugs you, he will try to shield you from the outside world as much as possible, which is really sweet. Also, his arms and shoulders are literally perfect so the hugs feel super nice.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?) Ahh, what is quick for elves?? I feel like he would fall in love gradually, but it would show in his actions and facial expressions, until he slips up during some sweet moment between the two of you. He almost scolds himself for not making it a more special moment, worthy of his favorite person, but you’re relishing in it either way, and the blush on his usually pale cheeks is a very nice bonus!

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?) Legolas comes off as pretty confident, and he is, so jealousy isn’t an emotion that often plagues him. However, he is for sure slightly possessive (maybe it’s an elvish thing?), and what is his… is his. Deep down he is passionate, and he is feisty in his particular way, which sometimes comes out in the form of possessiveness too.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?) Gentle and plenty. He likes to kiss you everywhere he can, whenever he can, it’s one of his guilty pleasures. He wakes you up with a bunch of kisses all over your face, in public he often kisses your hand, but in private he might kiss each one of your fingers separately. Don’t even get me started on the neck kisses - he would never stop if he could. His sweet spots, which you discovered by accident but it was plain by the way that he inhaled, are right under his ear, and on the inside of his wrists. It is incredibly intimate, and something that only you will ever know and do.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?) He is confused, for sure, since he’s not really been around too many children in his long life. Unsure of what to do, he stammers when kids ask him questions because they’re, unsurprisingly, fascinated by him, and he looks to you for guidance. You think it’s kind of charming, he literally seems scared which is an unusual look on him. If you’re good with children, he has a huge admiration for it, and he would definitely be an amazing dad one day.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?) Legolas is quite high on energy, so I think he’d prefer more active mornings - even better if he can finish early whatever he needs to do for the day, so that later he can be all yours without distractions. But on other occasions he thinks you just look too enticing to be left alone at dawn… he can’t help himself but hang around a little bit more when you look so peaceful, smell so amazing, and have the most kissable soft skin in the world…

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?) He loves evenings and nights, especially clear and starry ones, he will never fail to be excited and it’s so cute. Legolas loves to go outside with you at night and stargaze, even though he might spend a solid amount of time gazing at you while you look at the brilliant sky. You have had so many long night walks also, and you have basically lost count. If the weather isn’t ideal, he will sit on the floor in front of you, while you’re on the bed, and have you braid his hair and tell you every single detail of his day (about the parts you weren’t around for), and then you’ll switch and he will braid your hair and listen to you.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?) I’d say he is pretty easy to read, even if his facial expressions are subtle, so you can often guess his feelings based on that alone. He wants to sometimes play the part of a handsome, mysterious prince, but all it takes is for you to rake your fingers through his flawless hair for him to confess to anything ever.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?) By you? Almost never. He will just get really upset if you found yourself alone in a very dangerous situation, and it could have been prevented. Generally he is also patient with others (he’s still royalty and needs to keep his behavior in check), until someone tries to mess with you, in whatever way. Then he doesn’t really care about politeness anymore.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?) His memory is impeccable, no matter how much or how little you talk. If you say something, he will listen AND remember. Perhaps, though, he is just a tiny bit spoiled and he will expect you to be like that as well, but secretly.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?) The first time the two of you went on some little journey alone. Whether it was just a one-day errand to check on something that happened in one area of the forest, or an entire visit to another kingdom, he treasures it so much. He likes to do things like that, and there is nothing better in all of Middle-earth than doing it with the person he loves more than anyone. At the same time it would activate his extra protective mode, but he would also be more free and unrestrained than he usually is, and it tugs on your heartstrings for sure.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) Legolas is very protective and very quick to act. In his many years he has seen all kinds of horrors, and he knows how his mother’s death affected both him and his father, and he absolutely refuses to ever let anything bad happen to you, as much as it is in his power. First and foremost he physically protects you, but he is no stranger to speaking up for you if you need verbal defense. He really appreciates it when you sweep in if he’s having a boring conversation with someone and he is looking for a way out - although he’s friendly, he really hates dull conversations which are sometimes a given for a royal. So he’ll be forever grateful if you get him out of it.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?) Legolas firmly believes that you deserve the best of the best, every single day, but he can also get impatient while preparing something special for you, like having a piece of jewelry custom made. However, he still loves spoiling you and making you feel special, but he loves to feel spoiled as well. So both of you occasionally go all out and plan a special outing, or a dinner with the other’s favorite food, or just a little gift that is perfectly suited for the other person.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?) He can sometimes be a bit impulsive and rash in using his words, and is quick to hit someone with a witty answer, which can end up being unnecessarily rude… but he is really growing out of it. He also gets very easily carried away in talking about something that he is passionate about, but you find it way more endearing than annoying.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) Quite - have you seen him? But he is convinced he looks best when you help him pick out clothes, and especially when you braid his hair. He is also happy if the two of you match your clothes even in a very subtle way, but it shows your bond in a nice way.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?) Before falling in love with you, his answer would be no - he had a pretty decent life… however, he always felt a constant desire to keep searching for something, not knowing exactly what it is, but like something was missing from his life.. Lo and behold, when you two got together, that feeling disappeared.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.) He is fascinated by snow and thinks it’s really beautiful, and he doesn’t get to see much of it, so his fascination grows.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?) Someone who doesn’t have appreciation for smaller joys in life! Like, how can you not be absolutely amazed by those trees or these butterflies or that sunset from the other day! There is so much to love and marvel at in this world, and he will take any opportunity to do so, but he wants to share that feeling with his partner.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?) Doesn’t really need sleep, doesn’t sleep much, but he will let himself go a little bit if you happen to be cuddling him.

✨ taglist my beloved ✨ @lotrnonsense @starlady66 @queenmeriadoc @entishramblings @thesolarangel @silversword7000 @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @averys-place @valkyriepirate @emmaarenstarr @noldorinpainter @asianbutnotjapanese @adamgetawaydriver @fenharel-enaste @ironmandeficiency @starryeyedrogue @dinofromspac3 @wisheduponastar @lady-of-imladris @frodo-cinnamonroll @unethicallypleistocene @deadlymistletoe @suncrat @high-sea-husbands @asianbutnoteastasian @aidansloth

#legolas x reader #legolas imagine #legolas fanfiction #lotr imagine #lotr fanfic #lotr x reader #lord of the rings headcanons #lord of the rings fanfiction #lord of the rings imagine #Lord of the rings #Legolas #Lotr #lord of the rings x reader

705 notes · View notes

silly-writes · 10 months

Text

Cuddling Headcanons

Just for some of my favs 🫶 not requested!

Justin, Noah, Trent, Alejandro, Courtney, Leshawna, Mike, and Manitoba

Justin

Really bad at accepting physical affection while the relationship is still fresh

He’s used to only being in relationships with people for publicity! He’s not really used to genuine displays of affection that exist only for the two of you

After awhile he warms up to cuddling a lot

He likes to hold his arms around you while sleeping

He usually likes to sleep directly on top of you almost crushing you with his weight

“I just can’t help it-“ he said one day laughing lightly “-you’re better than any bed I’ve ever had”

He’d never admit to the sappy crap but it relaxes him beyond belief to listen to your breathing

He also loves hearing you talk or rant about your day when you two cuddle

He also likes to hold your waist in any capacity, he’s almost always got one hand on your waist

Noah

Yeah unsurprisingly he’s not that big on it

If you insist however eventually he comes to kind of enjoy it

He’d never admit that though.

He really likes it when you run your hand through his hair you can always see the tension leave his body when you do

(Again he’d never admit that)

He’s really bad when he actually does want to cuddle because he’s horrible at asking for things

Usually he just sits there staring at you waiting for you to learn how to read minds

Eventually though you start to get the feel of when he wants you to just hold him.

He’ll front every time and complain the whole time but it’s a big ol’ lie

“Are you kidding me, again? You cling onto me like a baby opossum, it’s crazy,” he teased you one night.

“We don’t have to-“

You couldn’t even finish the thought before he cut in grabbing onto you “calm down it’s fine.”

Yeah Noah, we know it is.

Trent

Definitely one of the more emotionally secure guys

Has no problem from the very start crawling into bed with you and just absolutely (lovingly) crushing you with his arms

We all know our boy is just the least bit clingy so he’s always looking for some cuddles

He honestly doesn’t care the position, he’ll big spoon, little spoon, he’ll get right on top of you, or you on top of him, my boy is not picky.

Really just likes to be able to see you, and loves playing with your hair (if you choose to show it/have hair)

If not he’ll play with the fabric of your clothes

“Trent that tickles stop,” you say one night as he plays with the hem of your shirt

“One sec…” he says, his tongue out in concentration.

You don’t know what’s going on in that head of his, so you just leave it alone after that, he looks so happy and adorable who are you to come in the way of that?

He’s just obsessed with you, if you’re happy he’s happy.

Alejandro

When I say guarded.

Starting physical affection with him that is genuine and in no way shows anything to gain from him, or anyone else scares the shit out of him

He really just doesn’t trust it for the longest time.

If you want to cuddle with Alejandro there is only one word: patience.

You have to be ready to wait for him to be ready.

With his up bringing and his past relationships, cuddling just wasn’t a thing you did unless it was some sort of trap

SO WHEN I SAY CUDDLING WITH HIM FEELS BETTER ITS BECAUSE YOU EARNED THAT SHIT

When he finally feels fully safe around you, he’ll test the waters first by sleeping in the same room as you

(He’s like a cat in that way sleeping around you is a big sign of trust from him)

Then eventually he’ll do things like put his arm around you and pull you in closer.

He likes to be the big spoon definitely

But there are certain occasions where he’ll settle for the other way around

He learns that he actually really does love it.

He loves to rest his head on top of yours and feeling your breath against him

Or better yet, he loves having his head on your chest hearing your heart beat

“Mi enamorada, your heart is beating very fast again,” you could hear the smirk in his voice as he said that.

“Oh really?” You say sarcastically, burying a hand in his hair “I wonder why.”

He hummed a little bit in response “as do I,” he says smugly.

Overall cuddling with Alejandro is just very rewarding and therapeutic

Courtney

this woman knows how to do it

She so loves being all cuddly which you really wouldn’t have expected

It does take a little bit, and she spends some time wondering if you’re really “worthy”

But after that she’s all in.

She likes being in kissing distance so your face being close to hers is a must

Other than that she doesn’t really care about the position

I imagine cuddling with her is very chatty, and she very rarely cuddles while falling asleep (not that is never happens)

But you guys have a lot of late night conversations while cuddling

She lives for those early morning cuddles too

“Okay that’s enough, I have to start the day at some point.” Courtney mumbles tiredly.

“Soon- soon. Just five more minutes?” You say, pulling her closer.

She regarded you for awhile “fine. But no more than five minutes okay?”

That type of conversation is had time and time again, and she always spends way more than five minutes

Leshawna

Leshawna is so good at being in tune with peoples emotions it’s scary

She’s always really good at figuring out what works for you to and what doesn’t

Plus she’ll always let you know if she doesn’t like something that happening so you’re never worried about if she’s enjoying herself

She loves being the little spoon, but will be the big spoon if need be

Loves cuddling, but when she needs space she needs space (dw she’ll always let you know)

While on the couch cuddling though she’ll always let you lay on her and throw a blanket over the two of you and it’s just the most cozy thing every time

She is beyond comfortable to be around

Just a really genuine and sincere and comfortable significant other.

“I just feel bad, like I’m crushing you,” you admitted one night, adjusting while laying on top of her.

“Baby you don’t ever have to worry about that, you just get comfortable in anyway you can. You got that?” She assured you, and that was that.

She’s so good at making you feel comfortable oml.

Mike

THIS BOY IS A DISASTER

Has an impossible time being the one to enact physical contact and an even more impossible time asking for it

He’s a nervous wreck.

But if you’re confident (which lets face it anyone compared to Mike is) he’ll glom onto you no problem

He likes being little spoon, but doesn’t really mind

Forms most of his opinions on cuddling from you so whatever you like will become whatever he likes

He’s just sort of easy going once he gets into it as long as he gets to be next to you he doesn’t really care what’s going on

Plus he’s hugely indecisive he just wants to do what you want to do without worrying about any decision making. He already does enough of that.

“How should I sit?” He asked you one night getting into bed

“However you want,” you say chuckling.

He huffs a bit “that’s not fair and you know it.”

Just a general pleasure omg

Manitoba

I imagine cuddling with him is kind of a nightmare

He’s so restless.

He’s never happy with the position even if he initiated it

He doesn’t mean to that’s just how he is

And it’s not because he doesn’t want to cuddle cause he does (trust me he does)

But he has trouble staying in one position for a long period of time

So cuddling works best with him if you’re a go with the flow kind of person and are okay with readjusting over twenty times

“Manitoba, please it’s one in the morning, at a certain point you have to just get comfortable” you scolded light heartedly.

“Sorry love, last time I promise,” he assures.

It was in fact not the last time.

#total drama #total drama x reader #td justin #td noah #td trent #td alejandro #td courtney #td leshawna #td mike #td manitoba #x reader #headcanon #total drama headcanons #cuddling #cuddling headcanons #fluff #fanfic #pure fluff

923 notes · View notes

azrielbrainrot · 6 months

Text

SFW Alphabet with Azriel

note: I've seen a lot of people from a lot of fandoms do this so I have no idea who made the original prompts. Let me know if you do so i can tag them!

also I don't know what this is, just wanted to write down my thoughts

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

I think Azzie is really affectionate but mostly in private. I see him always gravitating around you and giving you small soft touches when you're in front of the ic or other people but then being clingy as hell when you're alone. This man is touch starved, he needs to catch up.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

I think you'd have to fist fight Cass for the title but he would be the best friend ever. I mean he's been nothing but soft and helpful with all of his friends. After you get past his millions of trust issues, Az is probably really easy to befriend. It might take a while for you to get to bestfriend but i don't think it would be hard.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He demands cuddles every night. I can see him being the little spoon as often as he's the big spoon, depends on what he's feeling up to that day.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

I think that's all he wants at this point and he's probably such a good cook.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He'd probably be really firm but also really nice about it which would actually make it hurt infinitely worse. I can see him literally going down a list of your qualities and telling you how truly amazing you are while breaking up with you. He'd make sure you were semi alright before leaving as well but still make sure you knew this was final.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Well he craves commitment but he also has been running from it for over 500 years so I think it's a complicated feeling. I think he wants commitment more than anything but is also a tiny bit afraid of it and he only wants it with the right person.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He's so gentle I could cry. He's been waiting all his life for someone to love and he will treat you with the most care possible both emotionally and physically.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

I don't see Az being that much of a hugger but he probably gives the best hugs. Both arms (and wings) wrapped around you and face buried in your neck or in your hair type of hugs.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

I'm not sure he's ever said it to someone romantically (probably hasn't said it too many times platonically either) so it would probably take a while. He'd want to make sure it will really work out before saying it. You'd probably have to say it first.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

I know this is supposed to be sfw but he probably ties you up with his shadows and fucks you within an inch of your life. I don't think he'd be getting jealous all that often (excluding the typical mate possessiveness) but he'd still fuck you extra hard just to make sure. Besides that I think he could actually feel really hurt by it if it's a more serious scenario like imagine you've been hanging out with someone a lot and he starts to feel excluded. In that case I think his abandonment issues would resurface and you'd have to remind him how much you love him and how silly it would be to even entertain the idea of wanting someone else.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He gives the best kisses and I will not take any criticism on this. Like soul consuming type of kisses. Not only does he have 500 years of practice but even when he was young I just know he made sure to perfect it because he can't do anything half assed. His shadows might even give him little tips

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He has such a calming presence that I just know kids love him. And his shadows probably give him brownie points. He's probably awkward at first though.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Well he trains at the crack of dawn so you'd probably wake up to an empty bed :/ but he'd always kiss your cheek before leaving even if you're unaware. Might even leave you little notes on your nightstand sometimes.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Reading in bed together. Cuddling covered in his shadows, completely hidden away from the rest of the world. Tucked away and watching over everyone at parties with the rest of the inner circle. Flying over velaris when his insomnia gets the best of him. Cute picnic dates in an isolated place somewhere only the two of you know. (I didn't wanna say fucking because this is sfw but let's be honest). I think every night with Azriel would make you fall in love with him all over again.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

It would take time for Azriel to really open up and I definitely think he'd go bit by bit.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

I think he tries to be as patient as possible but let's not forget he almost killed Eris and was the first to speak up when Tamlin was insulting Feyre. He's probably really patient normally, especially with his partner and family, but when he gets angry I think it boils over quickly.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers everything about you to the point you suspect he has a journal with every little detail.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Is it too cheesy to say he cherishes every moment he's had with you? He definitely cherishes just having you there in the moments he felt lonely before. Like coming home from a mission and instead of an empty room you're right there waiting for him, probably staying up to see him even when he tells you it's not necessary. When he has nightmares and you're right there comforting him and kissing his tears away. At family dinners when he doesn't have to feel jealous of his brothers and just reaches out and kisses your hand making you smile at him and have him thank the Mother for the thousandth time for gifting him the blessing of a mate as lovely as you.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He's really protective. Probably keeps some of his shadows around you to make sure you're alright at all times. But I think he also wants to feel protected since he had so many times when no one was protecting him.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He would go above and beyond every time. Always searching for new restaurants that cook your favorite foods or picnic spots that would take your breath away. He would give you the most thoughtful gifts too, things you barely remember mentioning. He'd give you these gifts out of nowhere too. He'd spoil you rotten really.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

I don't see him being great at communicating. If he feels hurt by something i think he'd pull back instead of addressing it. I feel like he has some passive aggressiveness in him as well.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

I don't think Azzie is as nonchalant about his looks as he appears to be. He's not as concerned as Rhys but I don't think he's that far off either.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes which makes me a bit sad.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Azriel pets and feeds stray cats and you can't convince me otherwise. He's also the top benefactor of every shelter in the night court.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

People that aren't open minded.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Not sleeping. jk He loves sleeping on his stomach with his face buried in your neck or chest and will literally purr if you pet his hair. I think he'd pull you to him unconsciously as well.

#azriel headcanons #acotar headcanon #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel fic

276 notes · View notes

historiaxvanserra · 10 months

Note

please pleASE PLEASE FINISH THOSE NIGHT TIME HC. IM BEGGING BABY PLEASE

Midnights | Nighttime Headcanon's

I totally forgot I added this to my masterlist and never finished it! It's been a while since i've written any hc's so forgive me if i'm a little rusty.

Rhysand

Rhys is usually busy with his High Lord duties throughout most of the day so you don't see each other during busier days.

So nighttime becomes somewhat sacred as it is the only time you have his undivided attention.

Rhys is a bit of a night owl, and sometimes even when he's dead tired he'll procrastinate sleep just to spend more time together.

Night times are spent sharing stories about your days, lounging in bed with your Mate, doing your joint nighttime face routines (Rhy's is very extensive)

Eventually you'll settle into bed and drift to sleep in your Mates arms.

Azriel

Azriel hardly sleeps, and when he does it's not until the early hours of the morning.

Sometimes you have to bribe him to step away from his work and just come to bed.

When he does give in he is often dead tired and therefore very affectionate.

Not that he isn't regularly but sleepy Az is a different type of affectionate.

His guilty pleasure is taking a hot bath with you and using lots of soaps and oils to help him relax.

He practically melts into the water as he releases all the tension he's been holding.

You'll wash his hair and his wings and when you're done he'll take you to bed where he'll climb into the warm sheets basically curl around you like a cat often muttering praises and thanks into your skin as he gives in to sleep.

Cassian

Cassian works hard everyday and often his work is much more physical than anyone else in the inner circle.

He trains himself every single day on top of training everyone else, often he spends the majority of his day in the ring practising new techniques and strategies.

This often leaves him physically and emotionally exhausted at the end of the day.

His favourite part of his day is when the sun goes down and he can come home to you.

Usually he'll find you in the kitchen preparing a meal for you both.

Some primal part of him secretly loves the thought of you taking care of him like this, but he also loves that you're a strong and independent and could definitely put him on his ass in the training ring.

He'll often just watch you as you prepare the meal or sometimes he'll help out even though he's a terrible cook and definitely more of a hindrance than anything else.

Other days he'll immediately go and take a shower to wash off the days dirt and change into something more comfortable.

By the time you sit down to a meal with him the moon is usually high in the sky.

You'll enjoy a glass of wine as you watch Cassian clear away the dishes before he'll take you to bed.

Often you'll end up laying in bed talking until one of you falls asleep.

And after a particualrly hard day sometimes he won't say anything at all, just curl into you as you run your fingers through his hair until he starts to melt into your touch and gives in to sleep.

Eris

Eris is always busy he has so many duties and responsibilities to fulfil that he hardly finds the time for it all

That usually leaves him pretty tense though he can't let that show in front of his father.

Only when he is in the safety of his apartments can he let the mask slip a little and be the real Eris.

That usually involves coming back to his rooms at night and enjoying an hour or two of comfortable silence with you.

This usually consists of the two of your wrapped up together by the fire, maybe reading, maybe just enjoying each others presence and other times it involves the two of your surrounded by a pile of sleepy hounds.

Either way Eris is happiest in these moments, unburdened by his title or the weight of his responsibilities.

It's these simple, quiet moments he lives for.

His nights usually end with you un-braiding his hair and brushing it through before retiring to bed where Eris reads long into the night, one hand wrapped around you as you sleep peacefully.

Lucien

Lucien is more of a morning person, so he usually keeps a pretty consistent nighttime routine and never really stays up too late.

Lucien likes to finish his work for the day pretty early if he can.

He likes to take some time out in nature as dusk begins to settle, he might walk, or ride, or just sit, that all depends on the day really and he enjoys to do this alone though he will often invite you along.

He enjoys the sense of freedom it brings and the calm of being in the open air.

Lucien gets home and immediately melts into his favourite chair by the fire where he might read but often he prefers to sit and drink and talk with you, and sometimes his two closest friends, Jurian and Vassa.

Often this leads to loud recounting of epic tales and lots of laughter that drifts through the house.

When everyone else retires for the night Lucien will take you back to your room, draw a bath, which you usually end up joining him before retiring to bed.

He's usually dead tired by this point so it doesn't take long before he's sleeping, snoring lightly and drifting into dreams.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #eris vanserra #azriel x reader #azriel x you #eris x reader #eris x you #cassian x reader #lucien vandaddy #lucien x reader #lucien vanserra #lucien headcanons #eris headcanons #cassain headcanons #azriel headcanons

514 notes · View notes

fuxuannie · 11 months

Text

↳ pairing : miles morales x g-neutral reader

↳ synopsis : (first part of) sfw alphabet with miles !!

↳ authors note : could contain astv spoilers ?? i think i'll do another alphabet w a spiderverse character soon when i finish this!! ive been working on a hobie fic but his british is killing me PLZ save me im SOBBING its being delayed just cause hes british thats crazy

— ❥ Affection - is he the affectionate type?

☆☆ I think Miles is really affectionate with his partner, holding hands and all of that. Tries to be a romantic (and fails sometimes cause hes far too silly for that) but he's doing his best!! Affection is definitely very important to him so :)

— ❥ BEGINNER - is he new 2 relationships?

☆☆ Definitely, you'd be his first love and so he tries his best with you. He'll make sure to take you out on good dates, meet your parents, make like thousands drawings of you in his sketchbook and just generally try to hide the nerves of being in a relationship. Of course, Miles isn't perfect, but you understand that and just accept him nevertheless.

— ❥ CUDDLING - does he like 2 cuddle ?? how does he like 2 cuddle :)) ??

☆☆ Cuddling is a need, it is a requirement. He will demand cuddling at least once every day just so he feels something in his cold and empty soul. (he's being sarcastic, please cuddle him hes so sad when you don't)

— ❥ Domestic - does he wanna settle some day ?? how good is he at household chores ??

☆☆ Miles is a teenager, that kind of thing has yet to cross his mind or atleast think of it super seriously. But he would love to move in with you at some point, make you breakfast in bed and stuff like that. He definitely used to help his mom when he was younger, just gives off the vibe :))

— ❥ Ending - how n why would he end things with you ??

☆☆ The only thing that would push Miles that far is for your own safety. When he dates someone, he doesn't wanna do it just because you two like each other, he dates to stay together and not for a fleeting feeling that'll come to pass. But it hurts him more to leave someone he still loves, but knows its for your safety <\3

— ❥ Fiance(e) - marriage? commitment?

☆☆ I mean, same reason with the letter D, he's a teenager so that thing doesn't really cross his mind. He does like to joke around that he'll propose to you with a bagel or something.. (uh oh)

— ❥ Gentle - is he gentle physically and emotionally ??

☆☆ He tries his best to be. He understands how a lot of things can be overwhelming and hard to understand, so whether you need his emotional or physical help he's always willing to give it. He'll give you words of affirmation or hold you till you feel better. :)

— ❥ Hugs - does he like em ?? does he hate em??

☆☆ Miles LOVES it when you hug him, especially when you initiate it first. He'll sometimes pick you up and do a little spin because it makes him that happy T_T♡ Please hug him, he needs it badly after everything

— ❥ I love you - how long did it take for him to say it ?? does he say it often ??

☆☆ Miles took his time when it came to finally saying 'I love you'. He wanted to make sure that he'd mean it, and will continue to mean it while you guys are together. When it comes to saying I love you, he wants it to be in appropriate times and places but he usually says it when hes sleepy and just has no filter at all.

— ❥ Jealousy - does he get jealous often ??

☆☆ Yes and Miles makes it very obvious. You find it amusing every time he'll pull you by your waist towards him so he can hold you by his side. He'll urge you to continue your conversation, but the person you're speaking to can tell he is one minor inconvenience away to picking you up and just running off. (he'll only ever act like this if the person has clear intentions that were NOT approved of by him)

— ❥ Kissing - does he like kissing ?? how does he like 2 kiss ??

☆☆ He does the upside down kiss at like any given moment while he's on patrol. HE LOVES DOING IT he thinks its the most silly thing ever and the way the first time he tried it, his web snapped and he fell before he could kiss is ENGRAVED in your memory. Of course, he'll enjoy smaller kisses like on the nose or on his forehead cause it makes him feel soso soft.

— ❥ Little Ones - is he good with kidz ?!

☆☆ HES AWFUL. have you seen the scene with him and Mayday?! He has never held a child a day in his life, he will call an infant baby 'bro' or something and try to take it skateboarding. He will try if you have younger siblings, it's like training to get into the family; if you can handle the little menaces you are welcomed <3.

#˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ bailu's candy stash #atsv x reader #spiderman atsv x reader #atsv imagines #sfw alphabet #miles morales x you #miles morales x reader #miles x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #miles morales imagines

493 notes · View notes

dr3c0mix · 5 months

Note

DRE DRE OMG DRE!:O

I JUST HAB THE GREATEST IDEA OF ALL TIME DRE!

So, so I was thinking at like 1:33 am cuz ye, and I thought,

WHAT IF THE READER, HAD LIKE, A DISABILITY , AND IT CAUSED THEM TO LIKE NOT BE ABLE TO MOVE AROUND MUCH, AND AND THEY FEEL USELESS, SO THEYRE LOVER COMES IN, AND IS LIKE” u know ily right?” OUT OF NO WHERE, AND IT MAKES THEIR DAY???

I mean you dnt have 2, but it would still be like so cool:3

*me running at Usain Bolt speed in order to get away from sleep cuz insomnia helps brain go brr*

But have to sleep so go night night>:(

Yanderes x Disabled!Reader w/ a Mobility Disability

My OCs x Disabled!GN Reader

yall have no idea how long I've wanted to write this *sobbing*

CW: Adrian is stupid and ignorant a little, mentioned kidnapping themes, stalking, theyre a little bit too caring for you..

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Adrian doesn't use your disability to make fun of you, he's an asshole not a monster. But he is painfully ignorant of things when it comes to people with disabilities. Prepare to be asked a lot of shallow and sort of weird questions, not because he's judging you, but because he wants to learn more about you and maybe learn how to take care of you once you two get married and live together. He'd ask in random times "So why do you use a wheelchair?" "Can you piss correctly?" and a plethora of other things. If you use a wheelchair, he'd insist, no, demand that he'd push for you, he doesn't give a real reason for it other than "Your arms will get tired." If you're an amputee, he'd secretly save and steal money in order to buy you prosthetics if you ever showed your desire for one to him. He honestly doesn't care if you feel useless, you're his and he loves you and no matter what you think, he will always be there for you. "Are you fucking kidding me? You went to the library all by yourself yesterday! You played with those kids in the playground, and you carried that group presentation in math class! You're not useless, you dumbass, you're amazing!"

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Brandon, despite how ditsy he is, researches a lot about your disability, how to take care of a person with your disability and stuff that could improve your mobility. It's his duty as your boyfriend to give you the best care possible! As much as he loves to take care of you, he knows for sure you're able to do things yourself, he helps you with physical therapy if you ever need it. Being the star player of the lead team has its financial benefits too, so if there's something you found online that could help with your mobility, he's definitely buying it for you immediately!! There are times when you feel insecure about your disability but he's always there to give you lots and lots of reassurance and love! But to be honest, his way of cheering you up sounds more like a pep talk more than comfort, but it's his way of cheering you up :) "Who cares if you're not like other people? You're awesome and never forget that, with or without a disability!"

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Valeth, I shit you not, is taking away your wheelchair, your crutches, your prosthetic limbs, anything you need to move around on your own. He doesn't want you being able to escape his house and tell the authorities about him. Besides, why need those when you have him to carry you around and spoil you rotten with gifts and affection? If you let, him, he'll kiss the parts of your body that are affected by your disability, your legs, your arms, your amputated limbs, he wants to remind you how much he loves you despite your immobility. He'll whisper how much he loves you every night or when you feel sad. "You're perfect my little duckling, so so beautiful..."

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

The Horde is keeping you in your bunker 24/7 unless you tell them you want to get out, but even then, they're right by your side the entire time. Bo is in charge with making sure you're never in pain or discomfort, physically and emotionally. "You're so beautiful darlin'..I wouldn't change a thing about your pretty little self~.." Screw rummages around the mall to find anything to help you move around like items from the medical areas. "I found this..uhm..do you like it?" Soda and Ribs don't really understand but they love you either way, regardless of your body. Ribs might steal your prosthetics or crutches though; you have to pry them out of his mouth like a dog that doesn't want to give up a stick.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Wolfie thinks you're hurt and whines whenever he sees you struggling of sad, he licks the places of your body that are 'hurting'. Even when you reassure him that you're ok, he won't let go, he needs to make sure his little mate is ok! Forget wheelchairs, or crutches or prosthetics, he'll let you ride on his back, anywhere you want! Just give him lots and lots of pets and scratchies, good boy deserves it!

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Dorik is your loyal servant and will help you whenever you need anything. Oh, your wheelchair is folded up and you need help setting it up? Nonsense! He can carry you anywhere you want! Prosthetic limb nowhere to be found? Just stay in bed, he'll take care of it! Found out he's been hiding all your stuff so you depend on him and only him?...nuh uh.. and if you ever feel down, he'll be right there cuddling you and whispering sweet kinda creepy things to you. "You're my little angel, master~ A fragile mortal like you should be cared for with a gentleness of a thousand silks~!"

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Kalva forges high and low for anything that can help you. while he does enjoy keeping you nice and safe in the nest, you need some sunlight! He gives you branches, sticks, rope, anything you need to help you move around even just a little bit. With his nest building abilities, he would make you a prosthetic limb or cane for you. If you're a wheelchair user, he can just lift you up and prop you outside with him while he preens you. He might not know what's wrong but he tries his best to make you feel better. "My mate is so lovely, my lovely lovely mate! So pretty and cute!"

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Jasper can't help but be much more protective of you. He knows you can do stuff on your own, but he thinks as your best friend and future lover he needs to take care of you. He'd gladly be your caretaker if you ever need one, but he beats himself up for not accepting that you know how to handle yourself. Please let him draw and paint on your prosthetics or wheelchair! If you don't want anyone to touch your stuff, that's ok with him, but that won't stop him from making little artworks for you, like tiny paper stars with cute doodles drawn over it. If ever you feel sad, he has a nice cozy room, a weighted blanket, hot chocolate and his cat to comfort you. He's not the type to give pep talks, but he's a good cuddler.. "It's ok to feel sad, baby~..let's just lie down together alright?"

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Silas, Viktor and Garrick pester you every day to just let them turn you. You could be in unbearable pain, and you still refuse to be a vampire??? You could just have a minor limp or amputated leg and they're blowing your disability out of proportion, comparing you to a fragile porcelain doll. Imagine how much better you'll feel when you can no longer feel pain! Or when you have the ability to walk properly! It bugs you, it even makes you feel worse. If they go too far, they quiet down and sulk like sad puppies, whining and begging you to forgive them. They're sorry they took it too far..they just wanted you to be happier and healthier... "We're sorry darling, we just want you safe is all.." "Indeed my dove~ but we love you either way~!" "So cute and so fragile~! I don't know what's up with those two, but I wouldn't change a thing baby~!"

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Baron is always there for you, you dont even need your wheelchair or crutches anymore with how much he takes care of your needs. He says it's all part of his job but you don't really think making adorable little snacks for you is part of it.. looking at the little orange slices shaped like snails and cookies decorated to look like cats on your tray, you wonder if his doting is really his duty or if he just really wanted to take care of you.. Apart from that, he often watches as you look in the mirror and just frown. He gets up and checks how you're feeling as if a switch activated in his brain when he saw your sweet sad eyes. He can't bear seeing you so insecure when you're the most amazing person he's ever met.. "Boss, I don't care what you or others think, you are wonderful and worth regardless of your disability. In fact, it makes you even more admirable.."

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Caspian can relate to immobility. Out of water, he's more or less paralyzed from the waist down because of the weight of his tail, so you two hang out and joke about it together. He helps you cope by giving you someone to see yourself in. He daydreams about one day using some kind of magic to give you a fish tail so you can live in the ocean together like a happy couple. Sometimes he brings you to the shore of the cave you live in so you can soak your feet in the water while he sings for you. "My beautiful treasure~ your body does not define you. I see your soul, your heart, and it is beautiful~.."

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Hallow just sees it as an excuse to keep you locked up. He baby-proofs everything so you don't accidentally bump into something and get hurt. Yes, he takes away your wheelchair or prosthetics when you disobey him. He's a menace but he makes up for it by caring so much for you, you don't even have to lift a finger. If you're good, he gives your stuff back, all of them decorated with stickers and doodles all over it, mostly hearts and flowers. If ever you feel insecure, he coils around you in a warm hug and kisses you all over, you're not getting out until he hears a giggle come out of you. "My doll~ my darling~ my love~ my pretty little toy~ so cute~ so small~ your body is perfect~ just the way it is~!"

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Ashvan is on high alert 24/7, what if you get hurt? Or someone knocks you over and you can't get up? What if you can't move in a dangerous situation??? Stairs?!?!? He's absolutely panicking over you, but you being a cleric, you can simply use magic to get around. He knows full well that you can look after yourself but he can't help but linger around wherever you are to make sure you're ok, especially in fights. He's never far from you, acting like your defense as you heal the other members of the clan. He may or may not watch you sleep. Just being there for you! On days when you're not so confident in your abilities, he comes up to you with flowers he picked so he could hopefully make you smile again. "H-hi there! u-uhm..I-I picked these for you! heheh..uhm..g-good job during that battle! You were uhm..amazing..~"

248 notes · View notes

misshoneyimhome · 2 months

Note

If you don’t feel comfortable writing this then that’s fine but I had this idea: being married to William and after you have your first baby (for context maybe like a year and a half into being married) you’ve struggled a bit emotionally in general but also with confidence bc of how different you feel like you look. William has been the most supportive and has not let you dwell on the physical changes bc he still thinks you’re beautiful. You’re about 6 months post partum and William decides to take you on a little getaway with the baby taken care of by your parents. While on vacation you’re both able to reconnect and William just really wants to make you feel good and it’s just a lot of soft and slow sex. Like it somehow feels better than how you remember.

Oh bb, you can hit me with all the dad!Willy requests you want - I'm not entirely sure what I'm not comfortable writing about in this context 😉

I know body changes can be a sensitive subject, but I believe it's also important to discuss - pregnancies are wonderful, but they can also bring a lot of challenges 🤰🏼

Anyway, I hope this aligns with what you had in mind and you enjoy it🤍 「Dad!Willy x reader」

Warnings: post-pregnancy sadness, reference to sexual activity, mild smut, soft unprotected sex (p in v);

"Tu stasera, vedi, sei perfetta per me" = Darling, tonight you're perfect for me

[Inspired by 'Perfect Symphony' by Ed Sheeran, ft. Andrea Bocelli]

Word count; 3.3K

・✶ ｡ﾟ

"Tu stasera, vedi, sei perfetta per me" I William Nylander [Dad!Willy]

Everything felt different now. Everything was different now.

Not necessarily in a negative way, but it just wasn't the same anymore. Although you were aware this was how it was going to be, you still felt somewhat taken aback by it all. Since the off-season last year, you'd been mentally preparing for this, preparing for the new lifestyle you and William would face together, and the new chapter you'd begin. Yet, nobody can ever be entirely prepared for when reality sets in.

The weather was lovely. Spring had arrived, and the hockey season had left its mark with the intensity to prepare for the playoffs. And as the sunshine filtered through the curtains of your bedroom, you couldn't help but admire the little bundle of joy in your arms.

It had only been two weeks since Eliot had entered the world, and you were more than overjoyed by your new role as a mother. Additionally, you couldn't help but be emotionally moved by the fatherly role William had embraced.

You knew it had been challenging for him during your pregnancy, not fully experiencing the fatherly kicks. But his teammates had been nothing but supportive, and the fathers of the team had gone out of their way to help him ease the nerves and not worry too much.

And truly, there was no need for concerns. Though he may not have felt the fatherly kick during the pregnancy, as soon as Eliot saw the light of day, William showed nothing but love and affection for his first-born son.

It had been incredibly emotional for all of you when he first held him in his arms, and William had sat bare-chested with him on the stool, a tear streaming down his cheek in sheer joy.

It had been so beautiful.

However, as soon as you returned from the hospital and slowly began to settle in with the newly added member to the family, a sudden unexpected feeling of sadness rushed over you. Something you hadn’t thought much about during the so-called wonders of pregnancy: the changes to a woman’s body.

Of course, you knew what you'd endured for nine months: weight gain, swelling, increased water levels, nausea, headaches, stretch marks, back pain, knee pain, all sorts of discomfort. But every time you talked to other women about pregnancy, they all kept mentioning how great you looked, how well you were doing, and what a glow you carried with you. Everyone always talked about the wonders and miracles of creating a new life, yet nobody liked to discuss all the awful aspects of it. All the downsides and terrible emotional days that came along with it. And most of all, nobody talked much about how your body was going to change after giving birth.

It was as if no one would ever speak negatively about having a baby. It was always portrayed as roses and glitter, yet you knew the truth. Sure, you loved your pregnancy and how smoothly it went—especially considering how many people struggled with conceiving—but to be honest, Eliot was a result of two young adults driven by desire, finally having the chance to indulge in uninterrupted sex during the off-season from hockey. And although you knew there was no contraception involved, which you had both agreed to, neither of you could have imagined that after four drinks and two shots of tequila in Southern France, William could still manage to ejaculate twice in one night.

Despite the romantic circumstances of a vacation in Saint Tropez, the reality of being in the hotel room next to Stephanie was less so.

Yet here you were, cradling your precious son in your arms as you attempted to rest your still tired body. While William was at training, you were simply trying to make yourself as comfortable as possible at home. Then, as Eliot finally drifted off to sleep, you carefully attempted to lay him down in his crib, ensuring he was settled before quietly moving about with the baby monitor in your hand.

However, as soon as you stepped into the bathroom, your eyes fell upon your reflection.

You didn't know how long you stood there. All you knew was that you couldn't help but stare at your figure. The body that had once exuded sexiness, providing you with the confidence that had attracted William when you first met. The body that you had worked on and trained for years, and of which you were proud. It had been with you through all your dietary changes, indulging in too much junk food, enjoying delicious dinners with wine and cocktails, and most importantly, it had carried your baby.

You knew you were strong, as every pregnancy book stated. A woman's body was resilient. But what they didn't mention was how depressed you could feel when you didn't feel as attractive as before your pregnancy. You didn't even recognise yourself anymore. And you weren't sure how to cope with it.

Just the idea of William touching your new body was almost repulsive.

So, as you had done many times before, you would simply shake your head and go to great lengths to avoid looking in mirrors.

However, William did not share your feelings. In fact, quite the opposite.

Perhaps it had been because of all the chats his mother Camilla had forced him through, making sure he understood the importance of being there as a partner during this time. You were sure she’d even given his way too detail sexual education just to make sure he knew what you were putting yourself through for him and this family.

But regardless of her input, William still thought you were beyond beautiful. If now not more than ever. You had been stronger than he ever could be, grown a life he could now call his son, and brought him to the world while he was half panicking by your side.

To him, you were amazing.

Yet he sensed your sadness every day that followed the birth of Eliot. And despite his bests effort in trying to remind you just how wonderful and amazing you were, his words seemed to fail.

Even the other mothers on the team, Amanda, and Sana in particular, who’d been by your side through it all when the boys had been on the road, were trying to comfort you. They knew exactly what you were going through. But nothing worked.

Despite your smiles and giggles out in public, a boiling uncertainty and vulnerability lingered under the surface. And it was made clear to William how bad the situation was, when he tried to touch you, and you were quick to throw him off.

In the beginning he just though it was because you were embarrassed by the changes it had caused for your core. But then, when he even tried to gentle and simply caress your body in the shower, you couldn’t even stay there and be naked with him.

And it frightened him. Not only were you no longer you bubbly self, happy and cheerful at all times, but you were also in this state of depression because of something he’d done, the choices you’d made together. The decision of having a child.

It was painful. Witnessing you in distress for weeks and months, unable to do anything about it, crushed him.

It wasn't until the off-season when you spent the summer in Sweden with William's family that Camilla suddenly pulled him aside.

"Willy, my dear," she began. "Have you talked to y/n about how she feels?" she inquired one evening, while you were playing with Michelle and Eliot.

The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken worry, as William's gaze shifted to meet his mother's. And in that moment, the floodgates of his own apprehension opened, releasing a torrent of fears and doubts that had long been simmering beneath the surface.

"I've tried," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know that... she hasn't been herself lately. But I just don't know how to help her."

Camilla's hand tightened around his, a silent reassurance amidst the storm of uncertainty. "Sometimes, my dear boy, the greatest gift we can give to those we love is simply our presence," she said, her words a beacon of wisdom in the sunlight. "Be there for her, Willy. Listen to her, support her, and above all, remind her that she is not alone."

William couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort from his mother's words. Yet as he continued to observe your forced smiles on your wonderful lips, his heart sank a little deeper.

And that's when he had a new idea.

William knew how much you loved Italy, especially the food, wine, and music. It had always been a dream travel destination for you, and having only been there once in your life, he thought it was time to revisit and create new memories in the wonderful country.

You needed some time away from your life in Toronto. So, with a bit of planning and assistance from his family, since planning wasn’t usually William’s strong suit, he managed to arrange a small trip to the homeland of pasta and pizza.

Furthermore, he even coordinated with your parents to look after Eliot while you were gone. Although he understood it would be difficult for you to be away from your baby for almost a week, he believed it was best for the two of you.

So, two days before departure, William revealed the surprise to you.

“Babe, we can’t just leave like that,” you exclaimed, your voice filled with concern and excitement. “What about your training? The season is about to start…”

William chuckled, loving your concern for his sport. “Don’t worry, I've sorted it all out with the team. Besides, I’ll make it back in time for the season start,” he reassured casually. “Baby, you need this. We need this. And that’s way more important right now.”

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, his eyes sparkling as he expressed his love and concern for you. Eventually, you nodded and flashed him a sweet smile.

Initially, William had planned to surprise you on the day of departure. However, knowing you would need time to pump and provide breast milk while away, he decided it was best to give you a couple of days to prepare.

With all preparations done, you were more than ready to enjoy your little getaway, just the two of you.

Florence was the flight destination, but the true paradise you were retreating to was a small semi-private luxury bed and breakfast a few hours outside the city. With a quaint restaurant where the hosts served local specialties, food courses, and only the finest local wines. The pool boasted a view over the beautiful countryside, filled with olive fields and vineyards, and outside the resort, small trails led through the gorgeous nature Italy offered.

Given the stress you both knew the new hockey season would bring, you spent most of your time simply relaxing in the warmth, enjoying the refreshing pool water, and indulging in the best Italian cuisine you'd had in years.

William had truly outdone himself this time.

From the moment you arrived, he devoted every available minute to showering you with love and affection. Though initially hesitant to touch you too much, he gradually caressed your smooth skin, gently exploring more and more until he felt you relax under his touch once again.

It wasn't easy for either of you. Despite William's efforts to convince you that your post-pregnancy figure was amazing, it took you two days before you felt comfortable wearing your swimsuit. And when he saw your wonderful curves, his eyes lit up like a bonfire. But what truly convinced you about your new physique were the compliments from the Italian mamas working at the small holiday destination.

"You had a baby?" one lady remarked on the third night during a late dinner. Completely taken aback by her sudden remark, you simply nodded. "You, beautiful woman. Strong! I can tell…" she added with confidence.

"See, I'm not the only one who thinks so," William chuckled lightly, flashing you his signature smirk.

"Of course, she bella donna!" another lady chimed in. "She is Mama! She made a miracolo… men? Hnf, they cannot do – no, only woman can be real strong."

And it was just the confidence boost you needed.

Listening to the words of the Italian women slowly made you realise that you should never be ashamed of your own body and skin. You had given William a son, and now nature proudly flaunted what you had been through.

William hadn’t seen you smile like this in so long, and he was beyond happy to finally hear your wonderful natural laughter again.

And after finishing tonight’s amazing dinner, retreating to your room and enjoying a refreshing shower, William was caught off guard by your soft voice.

“Willy…,” you almost whispered as you stood in the middle of the vacation home, and William slowly approached you. “I want you to touch me…”

It was a gentle plea, devoid of any neediness or desperation. It was delicate and timid.

“Are you sure?” William inquired, his chest nearly touching yours and his breath within reach.

And gently, you nodded, dropping the small towel that had wrapped your body. With your eyes meeting his, you slowly traced your palms up his torso and delicately wrapped them around his neck. “Yes, I need you…”

William couldn’t suppress a smile as he admired your beautiful features in the golden light of the setting sun on the horizon. Your eyes had found their sparkle again, and gently he felt your warm body against his.

It was as if you were falling in love all over again. Like experiencing your very first kiss when William leaned down to close the gap between you and gently connected your lips.

And immediately, you melted into his touch. Like a magical spell, you felt a pleasurable sensation course through you, an enchantment only William could evoke. Your knees went weak for him as his large hands cupped your face and deepened the kiss.

Your hands rested on his bare chest, almost feeling his heart beating, mirroring the rhythm of your own heart for him. Amidst the sun setting and the darkness of night slowly enveloping you, you allowed yourself to be guided by William. Onto the mattress, he carefully hovered over you, his lips always remaining connected as his tongue explored your mouth.

Your fingers found the lengths of his locks as you relished the feeling of his body against yours, his arms on each side of you as you connected deeply and passionately. Soon, you felt his member slowly growing firmer in his shorts, pressing against your inner thigh, and a strangely familiar sense of arousal building up within you.

Your cunt pulsed with anticipation, craving the attention it had been deprived of for months, and William was more than eager to satisfy it.

With his own throbbing length hard and proud in his shorts, he felt more than ready to be intimately close to you again. Breaking the kiss, he slowly discarded the only fabric separating you, and very carefully, he let his member brush against your core. His eyes locked onto yours, searching for a reaction, where he was met with your soft, sweet moans. Your fingers lightly tugged at his hair as you bit down on your lip, signalling your desire for him to be inside you.

Which he gladly obliged. With great care, William let the tip of his cock find your entrance, slowly pushing it in and stretching your walls in a way that was familiar to both of you. For a moment, he held still, relishing the sensation of your muscles around him and the soft gasps escaping your lips. He couldn’t help but admire you in the dim lights, taking in all your beautiful features, before delicately starting to move his hips in slow motions.

The lovemaking was slow and gentle, romance filling the air under the starlit sky and moonshine. With each tender thrust, every moan that escaped your lips was filled with nothing but love.

As he slid his cock in and out of your core, bringing you pleasure and stimulation, you both felt connected once again. Feeling the heat, the sparks igniting between you as you both drew closer and closer to climax.

Deep breaths were shared between hungry and sloppy kisses, both eager to reach climax. William's hands clenched the sheets with every thrust, feeling your muscles clenching around him, and he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. After months of no sex with you, he felt himself in desperate need of release.

And he wasn’t alone. As your hands shifted to find his shoulder blades, your cunt pulsed as you were on the verge of orgasm. And when William increased his speed just a little, you knew you were about to surrender. Digging your nails into his skin, you closed your eyes, arched your back into the pillow, and with a loud moan, you let the orgasm wash over you.

It was one of the most wonderful orgasms you’d ever experienced. Finally in touch with William again, bringing you pleasure, you were in a state of bliss. Your mind was foggy, breaths heavy, and a small smile formed on your lips as you came down from the high.

Meanwhile, William was on the brink of climax. With a few more powerful thrusts, he let out a deep grunt, followed by heavy breaths, as he released himself into you. It wasn’t nearly as intense as the climaxes he’d experienced with you before, however, given how long it had been since you'd been intimate, this felt beyond amazing.

To you, it almost felt even better than you remembered it prior to your pregnancy.

And as you both calmed and regained your breaths, William pulled you into his sweaty body for an aftercare cuddle.

"Was it okay?" he spoke gently, finding your expression in the soft glow of the bedside lamp.

"It was amazing, Willy," you replied with a soft whisper, your eyes shimmering as they met his.

William couldn't contain his satisfied smile, finally able to enjoy your happiness again. "Good, baby, you're so amazing and beautiful. You're the most wonderful mom our son could have… you deserve the world."

You chuckled softly at William’s sweet words. You knew he meant them, coming straight from his heart, even though it hadn’t always been easy for him to verbalise his emotions.

"It’s all because of you, Willy. You bring out the best in me," you offered him a sweet smile, letting the comfort of his arms envelop you.

"No way… you’ve always brought out the best in me, babe, believe me," he chuckled as well. "To me, you’re just perfect… don’t you ever forget that."

A wave of sweet content washed over you as you absorbed every praise he had to offer. There was a soft moment of silence where you both simply enjoyed the relaxation and the soft Italian air coming through the curtains.

But then you softly broke it. “Although… we probably should have used protection, Willy…”

"What do you mean? We never use protection…"

"Well, exactly," you chuckled lightly. "I could get pregnant again…"

"Wait, you can get pregnant already?" he asked with sincere curiosity.

And you couldn’t contain your amusement. “Of course, babe!”

"Even when you breastfeed?"

"What? Yes, of course, Willy! Even when I breastfeed. That’s just a myth… honestly, don’t you know anything about a woman’s body?" you playfully asked, but William simply responded with another chuckle.

"Well... I do know a thing or two," he flashed you a mischievous grin before pulling you in for another deep kiss.

#my asks #dad!willy #wn88 imagine #william nylander imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl hockey imagine

125 notes · View notes

abibliophobiaa · 10 months

Text

Beyond - s.h. x f!reader

Chapter Six: Would I Lie to You, Baby?

special thank you to @myosotisa and @loveshotzz for the beta read and also @myosotisa for helping me with a special scene that takes place in this chapter!!

warnings: minor injury; mentions of alcohol; unwanted advances/flirting/touching - R receiving end; and a whole lot of fluffy modern day!rich!fake-husband!steve x afab!reader. (9.3k words)

masterlist

——

What’s that saying?

Woman down.

Abort mission.

Houston, we have a problem. And boy do you have one.

The day starts like any other, only because of the rainy weather that has plagued the city since September bled into October, you’ve been forced to take your morning walk indoors. And it’s not like it’s the first time you’ve used the personal gym in your home either. In fact, by now you’ve used it countless times.

No. Instead, it’s the image that greets you upon entering that is a definitive ‘first time’ for you. Because there’s no forgetting the sight of your husband, bare chested, catching his breath as he rests on a bench. His hair is hidden beneath a baseball cap, a water bottle between his plush lips that manages to spill onto his chest with the intensity he’s chugging it.

Oh, and his face? He hasn’t shaved in a few days, and Steve Harrington with a growing mustache and beard should be illegal.

Jail time and a permanent sentence if you have any say in the matter.

The reason why?

Riling up his fake wife into a tizzy.

The optic is…not helping your present situation. The dawning realization that seems intent on reminding you every single day that you’re attracted to your husband. Emotionally, physically—the whole of it. It’s infuriating, daunting and downright terrifying. But he can’t know that—can never know that, because of the deal.

The deal. The arrangement. The rules.

But lately, you want to throw them all out and burn that ridiculous contract he had you sign seemingly so long ago now.

Suddenly, you’re hyper aware of the fact you’re staring, watching as his brows draw high on his forehead. With a swallow, you turn your head away, hating how your damn cheeks start to warm under his scrutiny.

He’s probably loving it, too. Loving the way you shift on the spot, unsure of what to do beneath his stare, hugging yourself tight.

Basing it on the smug grin that curls his lips alone, you know he has to be.

“Figured I’d get in a workout because Charlie is napping,” you explain, stepping further into the room, stopping in front of the endless rows of dumbbells your husband keeps on a rack against the far wall of the room with wall to wall mirrors reflecting your nervous image back at you. “And also because it’s raining, I couldn’t go outside.”

“Uh huh.” He takes a final gulp of his water and places it down onto the floor beside him, about to start more bicep curls when he catches your image in the mirror. “Looking for something?”

Maybe it’s your inability to figure out what weight dumbbells you should start with. Maybe it’s because you’re already forgetting the layout of the TikTok workout you watched earlier that evening you intended to try. Maybe it’s the fact you know you want to start lifting weights, if only to help with your running and dog walking business (some of those bigger dogs get a little rowdy). Maybe it’s the fact you have absolutely no idea what you’re doing. As a result of all of that, your teeth pinch against your bottom lip, skin taut between, meeting his stare in the mirror.

“I’ll probably just hop on the treadmill. Go for a walk,” you decide, cowering away from his curious stare to rush to the farther corner of the room where the cardio equipment is.

The present set up has a treadmill, elliptical, stairmaster, and spin bike. More than you’ll ever need, but you’ll never complain because one of the perks now in being married to Steve is that you were able to cancel your own membership and save a little extra cash every month. Hopping on, you tap on the large screen panel to set your leisurely walking pace, pop a pair of headphones in your ears, and drown out the sounds in the room.

The plan works.

For all of five minutes.

Because you’re minding your own business, bobbing along to “Bad Girls” by M.I.A. as you strut across your runway slash treadmill belt, when Steve decides to lift his weights once more. Uses his knees to help prop them up, going right into a set of overhead dumbbell presses.

And damn it, if the sight of him when you walked in hadn’t sent you into orbit, this certainly does.

From where you’re standing you can see his back. The constellation of moles you never really paid much attention to, but now want to mark the path of with your fingers. Want to trace them like the stars in the night sky. With every overhead arch, his sinewy back ripples, muscles in his arms straining, veins sparking to life beneath his skin. You can see the lines of his abdomen, the sweat pooling across ridges, clinging to those perfectly sculpted divots. Can see the way his chest jumps with each movement, making your thighs clench.

Only—one's thighs shouldn’t clench on the treadmill.

Except yours do.

And promptly send you crashing onto the belt, skin ripping from your kneecap in one rapid swipe.

A giant, gaping black hole in the floor would be a good escape right now. That or a meteor falling from the sky, with its target directed at your head. Anything to rid yourself of the mortification of your current dose of reality.

Steve’s already dropping the dumbbells by the time you fall onto your rear, nearly crashing into the glass window in the process, your trembling hands clutching your scraped up knee.

It burns. A white hot heat that has your eyes prickling, embarrassment burning like a heated iron in your chest. And to make matters worse, Steve utters out a soft “baby” as he drops down in front of you, and that might as well signify the end of all life function. Because not only have you fallen off a treadmill ogling your increasingly “not-so-fake-husband,” but now he is calling you “baby” on top of it all.

“Baby, let me see,” you realize he’s saying as you come crashing back to reality, the hazel of his eyes growing darker as he crawls closer on the floor, trying to inspect your knee. With a reluctant sigh, your hands fall away, revealing the freshly torn skin. “That’s a mean looking burn. Come on, let's put something on that.”

“I’m fine right here,” you argue, back pressing against the mirrored wall.

“Why?”

His brows lift high on his forehead, left hand curling over the unbroken skin of your left knee. You can see he’s wearing a black silicone wedding band today, not his usual wedding ring, and yet you don’t miss that simple gesture. Always wearing that symbol of your union, while your own are presently sitting high enough in a ring holder so Charlie won’t be able to mistake them for very expensive doggy chew toys.

“It’s gonna hurt like a bitch.”

“It’s a little burn, and then you’ll feel better,” he promises, giving your knee a little squeeze. “I’ll be so gentle.”

“Steve.”

“Honey.”

“Well when you say it like that,” you say, snorting.

He takes it as joking. Head shaking as you curl your hand around his and allow him to help lift you off the floor, body nearly careening into his at the force of it. But there’s a sincerity behind the joke; the way your heart thumps a little faster every time he utters his affections like that; every time he graces you with a token of his appreciation, or the lingering sweetness of a fond title when no one is around to hear it. Those little moments that are completely yours for the taking, hidden away from those who would watch your marriage under a microscope—those you continue to act in front of to keep up your facade.

There’s an expectation, though you’re uncertain where it derives from, that he’ll take you to your bathroom, connected to your bedroom. It’s closest to the gym, as it is. But when you pass your doorway and end up in front of his bedroom, drawing the excited gaze of your puppy lazing on Steve’s bed, you find yourself freezing. Pausing in the entryway as you take in his room. Like your living room when you first moved in, it’s minimalistic. Huge, with a california king bed in the middle. But it’s limited in decor. White walls, black furniture and bedding, with a few pictures strewn about his walls.

This is where he sleeps every night. Where he slips away to when you bid one another goodbye. Briefly, you wonder if he sleeps on his side, or maybe his back. Wonder if he slings a forearm over his eyes or tucks the back of his hand beneath his cheek to draw comfort. Or if he sleeps with the comforter pulled all the way up over his shoulders, or if he prefers them slung low around his hips. All things you shouldn’t be thinking about; especially not now, not as he tugs you along behind him into the adjoining master bathroom, telling Charlie to ‘sit’ in the doorway.

The puppy drops down onto his haunches, and then lower still, onto his little elbows as Steve gestures for you to hop up onto the sink counter. Palms curl around the edge as he starts to rummage about in his medicine cabinet, finding the topical ointment he’d been looking for. He hadn’t been lying about being gentle. He’s all gentle brushes of a clean warm washcloth damp with water. He then lets the wound air dry as he stands in the cradle of your thighs, looking down at your face.

“What were you doing for this to happen?” he asks, opening a large band aid to cover the surface of your knee and gliding a small helping of the antibacterial cream there.

“Just…tripped.”

“Just a little spill?”

At your rapid nod, he presses the edge of the band aid down and glides the rest over the surface area of the burn. There’s a bit of a sting, but it settles into a dull ache. His touch lingers. A slow, delicate sweep over the top of your thigh that draws your gaze to his point of contact. It has you wishing nothing more than to lock your ankles around his narrow waist, tug him near, and drag his mouth down against yours.

Only you don’t.

Because they’re all fantasies. All fantasies struck up by close proximity to the man. A normal reaction after living with a man like Steve and playing house for four months now.

Right…?

“You didn’t happen to be distracted or anything?” your husband queries, giving you another one of those swipes of his thumb over your bare thigh.

Dangerous.

He’s verging on dangerous territory.

“My music was pretty loud.”

He barks out a laugh. “Was it?”

“Uh huh.” Another swipe. Is it getting hot in this damn bathroom? Must be an October heat wave. “What’s the damage, Dr. Harrington? Will I make it?”

“Might lose the knee,” he says gravely, bowing his head in faux sympathy.

A little gasp spills from your lips, hand curling over your heart dramatically. “The knee?”

Charlie jumps to attention at that, rushing over to bump Steve’s thigh with the tip of his nose. You lean down a bit to pet him, and holy mother of god he’s still half naked, you remind yourself as your face comes a little too close to Steve’s hip, eyes stuttering on those moles that litter his abdomen.

And then he’s flexing.

Fucking flexing, because you’ve been caught. He knows it, too. Lips curling upward slowly in that self-satisfied grin of his that makes your stomach swoop low.

Woman down.

Dead on arrival.

The jig is up.

I can fix this, you think, clearing your throat. “Actually, if you must know…I wanted to learn how to lift weights. I figured it would come in handy with the dogs. Charlie, too. He’s a little reckless on our walks still.”

Steve listens, patting Charlie on the head for emphasis as you lean back against the bathroom mirror, your knees still on either side of your husband’s hips.

“And you,” you explain, waving a hand in the air, very noncommittal, and hopefully lackadaisical because you’re still trying to play it cool and all of that, “seem to have a wonderful form.”

“You mean wonderful form.”

Record scratch. Steve’s finger’s pause in their dastardly trail, your eyes darting up to his. Dark. They’re so damn dark, and you swallow the thickness forming like a knot in your throat.

Mortification rising, cheeks burning, you amend, “That’s what I said.”

“It's not,” he muses, “but if you say so.”

Another swipe along your injured knee, while Charlie rests his snout on your other. Both your guys, all together in one room. It would make for a cute family moment were it not for the way your husband’s mouth twitches higher, enjoying your turmoil a little too much for your liking.

“Remember we’re married. We live in the same home. I can still kill you in your sleep.” It’s a deadpan. But your facade breaks a moment later, a giggle rising up despite your threat.

He leans in closer, and you briefly wonder if this is the first time you’ve noticed those little green flecks he has in his eyes thanks to broad daylight filtering in through the window. When you’re out to dinner for social functions, it’s usually in those dark, dimly lit rooms where you pretend to be absolutely smitten with the man.

But after that kiss on your cheek after getting Charlie, there’s been a shift. Additional touches, sitting closer on the couch—under the guise of sharing the puppy, naturally—a brush of shoulders as you pass in the hall. The whisper of a kiss against your temple when you fall asleep on the couch watching your shows (or at least when he thinks you’ve fallen asleep).

Changing.

Things are changing with the seasons and each day a new layer is added into the reasons why remaining married to Steve Harrington for the next nearly two and a half years might be the most difficult challenge you’ve faced yet.

Because the only casualty at the end of this…is your heart.

You’ve never forgotten that, no matter how blurry the lines seem as of late.

He whispers, “Remember the wife is always the first suspect.”

His hand finally moves away, and you loathe that you miss it as soon as he does. Charlie scampers into the doorway as Steve helps you down off the counter, gritting your teeth against the flare of pain in your burnt kneecap. You walk down the hall together, saying nothing, basking in the comfortable silence as you enter the kitchen, pulling bottles of water free for both Steve and yourself. He accepts it gratefully, chugging half before leaning his elbows onto the kitchen island.

“I could show you,” he says, smiling softly at your arching brows. “How to train. I could teach you.”

“Like…workout together?”

His head dips, fingers coming up to remove the hat from his head. And maybe your heart does a somersault when he shakes his hair out, now grown out quite a bit.

“If you want to,” he says, rubbing his left palm over his stubbly cheek.

And you do. So you agree to his suggestion and find yourself standing at a squat rack the next morning, thanks to yet another rainy day in the city.

Steve’s foregone his shirt again.

A fact you find equal parts exhilarating and infuriating.

Him with his low hung gym shorts, highlighting the lines of his abdomen, the line of hair your eyes hitch on dipping below the waistband.

Charlie sits in the distance, a happily distracted bystander to his parents trying to figure out what the hell they’ve gotten themselves into, thanks to the doggy bone Steve brought home for him the prior evening.

“We’ll start with just the bar.” At the hesitance in which you approach, eyeing it precariously, he adds, “It's not that I don’t think you can handle more. You wrangle animals every day. But your form is important so you don’t injure yourself. Can’t have you ruining the other knee.”

“Couldn't have that,” you laugh, running your finger along the barbell. “Okay, now what?”

“You’re going to stand in front of the bar, legs shoulder width apart.” He does exactly as he says while he’s explaining, thighs separating just enough as he needs to. “You’re going to wrap your hands around the bar, thumbs around the bar. I’m going to get under and rest it just below the base of my neck.”

He slips under with ease in a maneuver you’ve seen often enough from the numerous TikTok videos you watched in preparation. His biceps shift with the movement, fingers loosening and tightening as he gets into comfortable positioning. He unracks the bar with ease, spreading his legs a little wider, eyes on his reflection across from him.

“You’re going to take a deep breath and brace your core before squatting.”

He demonstrates, the bar clearly too light for him, because there’s no struggle on the descent. His thighs don’t even quiver, they merely tighten, highlighting the definition honed from years of time well spent in the gym.

“You’re going to want your thighs to be parallel to the ground.”

He lowers until he’s in the proper position.

Pauses.

“And then you’ll drive up through the heel.”

He rises, hips drawing forward, racks the bar, and turns to you. Growing warm at the sudden attention on your figure, you push down the lip of the hat he wears, rushing in front of him to stand warily in front of the squat rack.

Suddenly, you’re aware of the set of eyes staring at your form in the mirror that belong to Steve. The way he walks up behind you and curls his palms over your shoulder, kneading the muscle there. Suddenly, you’re overly aware of the fact that here's your ridiculously fit husband, and in front of him…you.

You’re wearing a pair of running shoes you bought a few years ago, a ratty old tee shirt from your early years of college, oversized basketball shorts, and mismatched socks.

“You know I can always tell when you’re overthinking, right?” Steve asks, rubbing particularly hard on a spot that has you about ready to melt into his arms and call it a wrap on your workout.

I’m beat, looks like we’re all done here! Great workout, honey. Let’s hit the showers, you want to say, before folding into his embrace.

“You won’t judge me? For being nervous?”

“Why the nerves?” He turns you around to face him, peering down at your eyes. “It’s me. Me…who you’ve seen every day for four months now.”

You shrug, because there really isn’t a reason for it. With a heavy sigh of resignation, you turn back around and face your reflection in the mirror, trying to follow Steve’s instructions closely. Feet, shoulder width apart. Fingers around the bar, thumbs curled, palms facing forward. Duck, slide under the bar and rest it at the base of your neck.

And here’s the part that has you nervous, the lifting up onto your feet, driving the bar up and out of the rack, wobbling a little bit at the unsteadiness of the suddenness of the weight on your shoulders.

Before you can even start to panic, Steve’s fingers are hovering underneath the spaces beside your fingers, letting you start to adjust a bit and find your balance.

“I’ve got you,” he says, chest barely brushing your back as you take a couple steps backward on unsteady feet closer to him. “I’ve always got you. I promise.”

I’ve got you. I’ve always got you. I promise.

You’re brought back to your wedding day. Dancing in the middle of a room full of strangers, arms around your new husband’s neck, swaying to a song you both liked enough to be the one to “define” your day as a couple for your first dance. Recall those words he spoke then. You’re the Harringtons. You’re not alone. It’s the two of you now. Different, and yet the same. Providing you with the strength you need to steel yourself, righting the bar, and training your gaze on the girl in the mirror.

And you trust him. Wholeheartedly, you trust him, as you drop down into your first squat. Then the second, and the third. The fourth and the fifth come with a little resistance. Six feels like your thighs are burning. Seven has Steve coming up a little closer behind you, his arms extending out into the air on either side of your waist, hovering beneath the bar.

“Do you have one more?” he asks, and you try…you really do.

The descent is fine, despite the quivering of your thighs from exertion. But as you try and push back up through the heel your breath rushes out in a puff, head shaking. Steve hurries forward and pushes the bar up and onto the rack, just as you slide out from beneath it and smack backward into a chest. A firm, yet soft, and sweaty chest. That chest comes equipped with arms that curl around your form to keep you upright, and then linger for a moment as you collect your bearings.

Like this, you can feel every inch of him. The contours of his body, the fullness of his biceps, the hair on his chest. Can feel the cradle of his hips…pressed precariously flush against your backside. And as you glance up at your forms in the mirror, it’s almost like you’re hugging.

It’s not even an almost, because you are hugging.

His arms around your waist. His ringed finger resting comfortably against your bicep. His chin over your shoulder, your cheek flush with his. Spine to chest, ass to hip, his breath fanning against your skin, your chest rising and falling rapidly beneath his weight.

It’s a perfect moment, and neither of you want to disrupt it. There’s only his breath at your back, his arms around your waist, your hands across his forearms. Peace. Safety. Rest. That is, until Charlie Harrington decides he’s not about to let his parents hug without getting a hug of his own, running over to thump his paws against Steve’s hip, demanding his own cuddles. And you both oblige him, dropping down onto the gym floor to give him all the belly rubs he could ever want, pink tongue rolling out of his mouth, paws in the air.

Laughter. There’s laughter and Charlie’s little yips of happiness. Laughter and Steve’s eyes on your profile. Laughter and your eyes darting to meet him. Laughter…and this unspoken thing left to linger in the air between the two of you. Laughter and maybe something tentative. Something more? A little breathlessness, the rush of air falling from your lungs as he reaches over and tells you how well you did. The gentle squeeze of his hand around your uninjured knee, a sweep of thumb across your skin, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in its wake.

Eventually, Charlie gets his fill and scampers off. You return to your training session with your husband. There are gentle touches throughout, his arms there to correct your form, to guide you through the program for the day. There aren’t any more lingering hugs, but that ‘something’ burgeoning remains.

It’s in his easy smiles. In his encouragement. In the brushes of his hands at your arms, your sides, your hips with your consent as he shows you how to move this way and that way. It’s in his praises and his promises. And later, it’s in his maneuvering in the kitchen as he prepares you a smoothie, as he looks at your knee again in his bathroom.

And you…well, you want to explore it.

Heart be damned.

——

Breathtaking. The material of your silk evening gown exudes elegance and sophistication. Eye catching, meticulously crafted, and designed for your exact measurements.

It’s a timeless silhouette that only enhances your figure. Delicate sweetheart neckline that hugs your chest and shoulders, draping sumptuously at the middle of your bicep. Every movement of your body has it shimmering where it hugs the curves of your body, like an inky night sky.

However, it’s the back of the dress that’s your favorite part. The captivating open design, leading to the fabric that drapes at the smallest point of your lower back. The way the dress falls down to the floor, swaying and shifting as you smooth your hands over the fronts of your thighs one last time. Exhaling deeply, you reach over to grab your rings from their holder.

For the first time ever, you feel like Mrs. Harrington. Truly.

“Well, what do you think, Charlie?” The Bernedoodle lifts his head from your bed where he’s been trying to get the squeaker out of his penguin toy. “Do you think your dad will like it?”

The puppy in question rests his head back down on his paws, nuzzling his face into the blankets you have pushed to the edge of the bed. It’s as good a response as you’ll get, and with one last glimpse at yourself in the mirror, you slide your rings up onto your finger and step out into the hall where Steve’s already dressed in a black tuxedo. And…the sight is just as wonderful, if not better, than on your wedding day.

Hair freshly blown out and coiffed to perfection, facial hair trimmed, the tux tailored to perfection. He’s foregone his glasses tonight, instead opting for contacts, and you rush over when you notice he’s fiddling with his watch, reaching out to help him settle it into place.

It’s better than locking eyes with him. Better than pretending you miss the way his eyes roam your form, round and full of reverence—for you. As the watch locks into place he catches your fingers within his own, holding them lightly as he takes a step back and gazes at you.

“You look…” He pauses. Swallows thickly. You wonder if he can feel the sweat of your palms, can hear the beat of your heart slamming against your sternum. “Wow. You’re—well, you’re always beautiful. But…just…you’re stunning.”

“T-thank you.”

You stutter your reply, parting enough to take him in. Hair curling around his ears, now in need of a trim. The hair along his jawline and upper lip, the dark tuxedo hugging his form. He’s handsome. Handsome in a way that has you feeling a little breathless, a little nervous as he laces your fingers between his own.

“Should we…?” The words you speak are left to linger in the air, because Steve moves forward and cups the bottom of your chin. Tips your head up just in the slightest and presses a kiss to your forehead. Warm. He’s so damn warm and you’re pretty sure you’ve now lost all feeling in your toes. “What was that for, Steve?”

“I’m just…I’m really happy you're here with me tonight.”

“Part of the agreement, right?”

It’s meant to be a joke. But Steve’s face drops, mouth drawing into a firm line. He coughs into his elbow, head turning away from you, and in that you know you’ve messed up. And not wanting to start the night off on a bad foot, you curl your arm around his bicep and drag him forward, forehead against his jaw, left to nuzzle there for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, feeling his hand tighten around yours. “I say things sometimes and I don’t think about how they might be perceived. I think you might actually be my best friend, Steve.”

“Yeah?” he asks, pulling back enough to stare down into your eyes. “Best friends, huh? I’ll take it.”

“Four months of marriage definitely gets us best friend status,” you tell him, winking. “I’m excited to spend this night with you. I’m a little scared about being around all these people…but I’ll be the perfect Mrs. Harrington, don’t you even worry.”

“Just be yourself,” he says softly, and you feel your heart jackhammer in your chest. “They’ll love you.”

After that, the two of you make your way down to the main floor as a couple. The doormen whistle and holler as the two of you walk by, dressed to the nines, and apparently looking a little extra loved up, because Hopper gives the two of you a look you’ve never seen before as you approach. Brows high on his forehead, shit eating grin in place, and smug as all hell.

“Mrs. Harrington,” he says as he opens the door for you and Steve helps you in with an extended hand. “You look wonderful.”

“She does, doesn’t she?” Steve muses as you settle down.

And fuck, you hate what that does to the butterflies in your belly. They’re not even just fluttering anymore. It’s like they all picked up fireworks and set them into motion. There’s not much time to linger on it, however, as Steve rushes around the other side and clambers in beside you, your left hand sliding over onto his lap. You tell yourself it’s because you’re nervous, because you’re about to be around socialites, celebrities, dignitaries and businesspeople alike.

But when you don’t let go—well, there’s no one to blame but yourself.

The drive is spent in nervous silence. Your fingers around Steve’s and his around yours, playing with your rings as always. The gala is being held at one of your husband’s hotels, and yet nothing prepares you for the grandeur of the Harrington Hotel looming before you. It’s massive. Reaches high up into the city sky, bracketed by workers prepared to take care of the guests’ cars, weaving in and out seamlessly as evening gown after evening gown pours out of classic cars, luxury cars, limousines, and the like.

“Hey,” Steve says as Hopper opens the door for you and you both step out onto the busy city streets. You whirl around, facing him. Your chests brush lightly. His hand comes to rest in yours, pulling it up to his mouth to brush a gentle kiss to the skin there. “Eyes on me. It’s the two of us, remember?”

——

Harrington Hotel’s ballroom is unlike anything you’ve ever seen. High, vaulted ceilings that go on endlessly. White walls with ornate carvings in their tasteful pillars situated on the outside edges of the room. Drapery that likely costs a small fortune hangs from the walls in sweeping arcs, a projection of your new last initial displayed against the far wall, with the charity information beneath.

The room itself is dim, cast in a pretty blue light, with a large chandelier twinkling from up above. Set on each table are beautiful centerpieces with gorgeous flower arrangements. Various deep shades for the approaching fall season, with candles lit on the table below, flickering atop the tablecloth, gold embellished chairs awaiting their many guests for the evening.

Steve helps you get situated upon arriving at your table, tugging your chair out despite your protests that you don’t need him to. And before you can even utter a request, you’re being handed a glass of champagne from one of the many workers on staff for the evening, and finding yourself tugged into a hug by Eddie, who Steve purposefully placed at your table so you’d have someone by your side at all times throughout the night.

A fact you become increasingly thankful for as time ticks by and Steve’s immediately pulled this way and that way into various conversations you can’t seem to keep up with, before he’s ultimately tugged away from you with a promise to be back soon, your request for another glass of champagne when he gets back met with a glowing smile as he rushes off with another businessman, leaving you alone with Eddie.

“Nope.” Eddie shakes his head, ringed fingers waving in the air. “Nope. No! I know how this goes.”

“How what goes?”

“You’re eye fucking your husband,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Your fake husband, need I remind you. This whole charade has an expiration date. You two decided this. You made your bed, and now you both get to lay in it.”

“I am not.” You exhale deeply, watching your husband raise his hand to the bartender, capturing their gaze so he can order you another champagne. “I just…have been spending a lot of time with him lately. And would it really be the worst thing if I was…interested in the man I’m already legally married to?”

Eddie seems to consider this, twirling around his glass tumbler on the tabletop, silver rings glinting in the chandelier light above. “Look. That would be the best case scenario. I’d love for you two to fall in love, be disgustingly gross together forever looking at him the way you are now. But need I remind you of high school? Early college?”

“Eddie…”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt. For a while there it was just you and me against the world.”

You know this. Eddie’s been there for it all. For that first boyfriend in freshman year you dated for all of one week, and yet felt like they’d ripped the rug from beneath your whole world.

To that asshole senior you dated while you were in your junior year, thinking that because he was an ‘older man’ that must mean he’s more mature. That must have meant he knew loyalty wasn’t making out with another girl while you went to grab him another beer at a party.

And then there was freshman year of college. The pre-med student who promised you the world, only to decide two years later he liked the pretty nurse in L&D and broke things off through a text message.

He’d been there for those major milestones and all the silly relationships in between. The fleeting things, and yet there all the same. Watching your heart crumble over people who never had any right to it in the first place, with his arms tight around your frame in a hug, a glass of wine at the ready, or your favorite tub of ice cream already purchased and thrown into your lap as soon as you let him know you were coming over.

The stress remains on his face now. The downward drag of his lips, the furrow of his brows, the way his chocolate brown eyes regard you carefully, like you might shatter right in front of him now.

But Steve…Steve is different, isn’t he? Steve, who stands right now with his elbow on the bar, tuxedo sculpted flush around his bicep, mid-conversation with a man with salt and pepper hair and thick black glasses. They laugh, and you can hear it from where you're sitting, your thumb running idly on the underside of your wedding rings.

Eddie catches the movement and slides a palm over your own, stilling you in your movements. “Steve is a good guy. I wouldn’t have let you carry on with this crazy situation if he wasn’t—”

“Wouldn’t let me? When have I ever let anyone tell me what I can and cannot do?”

Narrowing your eyes at him playfully, he amends with, “I would have strongly advised against it. Maybe stood up when the officiant asked if anyone opposed the marriage.” He swallows, giving your hand a squeeze. “He’s my best friend. But you’re family. And if he fucks it all up, I just want you to know my couch is always open. Don’t know if I’ll be around because of tours and all of that, but you know it’s yours. My snack pantry, too.”

You clap a hand over your mouth in a dramatic gasp. “The snack pantry?”

“The snack pantry.” He nods.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it, though,” you tell him, rubbing your hand along your forearm. “Pretty sure it’s one sided.”

At that, Eddie breaks out into barking laughter, drawing the curious gazes of multiple tables around him. Someone even hisses for him to be quiet, and he reaches to grab a piece of caviar, poised at the ready to throw it right back at them. Luckily, you manage to whip your arm out and stop him before he can get himself kicked out of the gala.

“What was that for?” Your voice is a whisper, but you’re shrieking it at him all the same.

“One-sided?” Eddie laughs again, head shaking. “I’ve seen Harrington flirt with women. I’ve seen him fail time and time again, and because of that…I’ve seen him give up on the whole thing. He said when it happens, it’ll happen. I always thought that was just a thing people said. Today when you two walked in, he looked so damn happy to have you at his side. This room is full of people, but he’s only got eyes for one.”

Nose wrinkling at his words, you snort. “You’re going soft in your old age.”

“It’s called having you as a best friend since we were in middle school, and knowing if I say the wrong thing you could justifiably stab me and I’d have earned it.” His head turns to where Steve is gripping the stem of a champagne flute in one hand, and a glass of whiskey in another. “I just want you to be happy. I trust him. I do. But at the same time, I care about you enough to also know I don’t want to see you cry over another guy ever again. So I’m telling you again, no matter what…my couch always has space for you.”

“Thanks, Eddie,” you breathe out, sniffling on a shaky inhale.

The backs of your hands dab beneath your lash line, making sure you don’t actually cry in front of the man, and smile fondly up at Steve when he walks over and leans down to press a kiss to your temple, handing you your glass.

Eddie dips his head at Steve, extending his fingers around the glass he holds in greeting. He lifts the glass to his lips and downs the rest of his drink in one go, before standing to his feet. “Now if you don’t mind me, I am going to try and talk to Chrissy Cunningham. Wish me luck.”

“You’ve been trying to talk to her for m—” At Steve’s pleading gaze, you pause.

Eddie’s been crushing on the actress for months now. Met her at some party you'd been invited to, where Steve introduced the two of them. She had shyly waved at Eddie, and he’d waved back.

Annnnd then they never said another word to one another for the rest of that evening, their nervousness too grand.

Today she looks gorgeous in a powdery blue shimmering gown that matches the hue of her eyes, blonde hair curled to perfection, falling down from the high, slicked back pony tail on her head. From where you’re sitting you can see her laughing at something her friend has said, a bright smile glimmering in the dim light of the ballroom.

“Ask her about her favorite song. Or—oh, her favorite cheese!” You suggest, bouncing on your chair, clasping Steve’s hand excitedly.

“Could also ask her if she’d prefer an extra toe or an extra nipple—”

“Surprisingly enough, I actually don’t want to know what kind of stuff you two are into,” Eddie interjects, pinching the bridge of his nose. He levels his gaze with Steve. “Just…take care of her, okay?”

There's silence. Steve’s mouth twitches, his head nodding once. And then, “You know me.”

Eddie only smiles. You don’t know what the hell that means, nor do you have time to investigate their odd exchange, because Eddie’s off to find Chrissy.

——

The gala passes in a blur.

Evening becomes night, and the ballroom is suddenly illuminated in a lavender glow. Your husband stands on the stage in the far corner of the space, thanking those for joining, and reminds everyone of the purpose of the evening: raising money for charity.

All of this, this evening, is nothing to him if he’s not giving back. It’s one of the many things you admire about him. The acknowledgement that though he was fortunate to grow up with a life where he never needed to worry, not all experience the same. And the drive to want to do something about it.

The room erupts into clapping and people disperse to grab drinks, interact with friends and family members, make new acquaintances, and give their donations.

Your feet have never hurt more in your life in these way too expensive heels, you’re still itching for a dance with your husband once they announce for those wishing to to walk onto the dance floor, and your champagne glass is empty.

Caught up in a conversation with a business partner, you offer to refill yours and Steve’s glasses, trying to no avail to call over the bartender.

All around you you're made aware of the decadence in which these people live their lives.

Women and men alike seemingly drape over the bar, garbed in fancy suits and flowing dresses. Hair perfectly done, makeup to perfection, men showing off with the most expensive watches, shoes that likely cost a small fortune, cufflinks with family initials on them, encrusted with diamond embellishments.

Tonight, they behave like you’re one of them. A member of their seemingly secret society. They pass you smiles as you go, veneers glowing in the dim light, those who weren’t present at your wedding congratulating you on your marriage. And for a moment, however brief, you allow yourself to enjoy it. To enjoy the affection from strangers. To enjoy being Steve’s wife. Being perceived as the woman who gets the joy of spending forever with a man so well loved by many.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you at these social functions before. I would definitely have remembered you,” a voice from beside you practically purrs. You stand up on your tippy toes once more, waving at a bartender who seems to completely miss you as they rush on by, trying to keep afloat in a sea of bodies. The man waves a hand in the air, and a bartender finally notices. “Jason Carver. Quarterback for the—”

“My husband watches your team.”

Simple.

Curt.

He’s shock of blonde hair and a handsome face, a multi millionaire, ridiculously popular for being one of the best at what he does, but you can already feel the asshole aura radiating off of him—made only more so noticeable when you catch the flash of his smirk directed at you, the trail of his gaze on your bare shoulders, and then the flash of his ring on his left ring finger.

Briefly, you recall meeting his wife, Tina, earlier that evening. A smiling face with a hand never straying far from her presently rounded belly. A little girl due in early January, she’d told you fondly, muttering how she hopes the baby gets her husband's eyes. Those same eyes that look at you now with increasingly questionable intent.

With that knowledge, you train your stare ahead, rambling off your husband’s order and yours. Jason shifts closer, the heat from his body making your skin crawl, back ramrod straight.

“And your name?”

You tell him in a rush, watching the bartender start on your husband’s drink behind the bar. There’s a touch along your tricep that has your throat closing, the feeling of his breath nearing your ear as he leans down closer into your personal space making your stomach curl.

“Can I just say,” he whispers, and your eyes dart up to reluctantly meet him, “you are absolutely beautiful.”

The backs of those fingertips trail your flesh. Unwarranted and unwanted, chest heaving with the flurry of your choked breaths. The room starts to swirl around the edges, Jason’s voice a revolting caress down your spine, colors melding into a kaleidoscope around you.

Harnessing the shiver of disgust into power, you shift out of his grasp, barely brushing against the person standing on the other side of you. “And you, Jason Carver, are making a fool of yourself.”

And then you hear him. The familiar sound of Steve’s voice in your ears, and then feel his hand at the small of your back, the warmth of his palm and the slight tingle of his wedding ring against your spine tethering you back to reality. Grounding you once more.

Jason stills beside you as the bartender slides your drinks over into your waiting palms. Steve takes his from your extended hand and sips, leaning down to tug you closer and press a kiss to your temple. All still unfamiliar, all still sending new waves of electricity along your skin.

“I see you’ve met my wife,” Steve says calmly, and you glide your hand over your husband’s chest for emphasis.

“I have,” he says thickly, dipping his head.

“Sweetheart,” you begin, “we were just talking about how lovely and beautiful Jason’s wife, Tina, is. He’s so lucky to have someone like her in his life and definitely shouldn’t ever forget that. We were also talking about how exciting it is that they’ll be having a little girl in just a few months. He was just getting back to her, wasn’t he?”

Jason wastes no time in making himself scarce, leaving you to stand near the bar, still pressing against Steve’s side. Neither of you moves for a bit, and you simply relish in the nearness—shocked by the comfort that barrels into your bloodstream over simply having him there.

“For the record—”

“You didn’t need me to do that,” he finishes, and your brows shoot up because how the hell did he know what you were thinking. “I know you can take care of yourself. It’s one of the things I…honestly admire about you. But I also want to remind you that you’re never alone. You have me. You know that, right? Isn’t that what a…best friend would do?”

You snort at the title. “I know. I-I do know that, Steve.”

But you’d been taking care of yourself for so long you don’t know any differently. So instead you glance over to where Jason and Tina are sitting at their table, his hand over her rounded midsection, overly affectionate for someone who had just moments ago been flirting with another woman.

Another married woman, on top of it. With her husband only a few feet away.

“He’s an asshole,” you tell Steve.

“I know. I saw him touching you. I watched you tense up.” His fingers trace the path Jason’s had trailed, covering the tracks he left with his own. “I’m serious. You look for me in a crowd, and I’ll always be there.”

There’s such a sincerity there. A plea behind those hazel eyes that has you swallowing the remnants of your drink and placing it down on the bar, gripping Steve’s hand tightly within yours. Without another word, you pull him along behind you, Steve managing to drop his drink down onto your table before you tug him over to the dance floor where other couples are now slow dancing, far away in their own little worlds.

“What are you—”

“I want you to dance with me,” you tell Steve simply, stopping in front of him. Your heels to his leather shoes. “I really really want you to dance with me. I feel like a damn princess in a silly dress, at a ridiculously fancy party with my husband, and I want him to dance with me. Because I hate that I’m enjoying this. I hate that my last name is plastered on everything here, and that I’m in this dress, with these shoes on, and I feel like a pumpkin carriage is going to pull up at any moment and take me home. And if I’m enjoying it, and if at twelve I’m going to be whisked away from here, then I at least want the full experience.”

Steve’s not judgemental. He’s never been. Has never questioned your past, wondered where and what you came from. He’s only ever been open to knowing who you are at present. The everyday. The chaotic and crazy moments. The monotonous ones. The time spent watching your shows, cooking to music in your kitchen together, playing with Charlie in the living room as a movie plays in the background.

But standing before him now. Him in his tuxedo, staring at you the way he is now, his hands moving to curl around your waist and draw you close—it’s the first time you really feel like someone could take a needle to your current reality and pop it. Like all of this would disappear at any given moment, like it’s all a dream conjured up in your mind. You hate it. Hate it so much that your eyes start to burn with it.

Sensing your inner turmoil, or seemingly just wanting to hold you, Steve folds you into his chest. Rests one forearm low against your back, and curls his hand around yours, swaying you back and forth on the dance floor as “The Way You Look Tonight” by Frank Sinatra starts playing in the distance. Your dress shifts and moves across the floor, your cheek to his chest, head tucked beneath his chin. He’s warm and solid and you can hear the frantic flutter of his heart, and can feel the slickness of his palm against your back. He’s not wholly unaffected by all of this, either. There’s a sense of comfort in it. This unfamiliarity of feeling—and the uncertainty of what?

“Can I be honest?” he asks at the top of your head.

“Always.”

“I hate all of this, too.”

“Steve, it’s horrifying. Our name is on literally everything.”

“I know,” he laughs, the rumble rattling your skull. You nestle in closer, and his arm drags you in tighter. “Does it make you feel less bad if you strip away all of the—” He waves his hand around at the grandeur of the room. “stuff and just focus on the fact you’re allowed a night out where you dress up. Away from school, away from stress, with the people who care about you? Because take all of this away, and that’s all this is.”

It’s not. And even so, you know he’s right. Because take away all the gorgeous scenery, the fancy clothing, the endless drinks, the designer cars, and the end result is the same: Eddie and Steve are here.

You’re not sure when Steve became one of those constants, yet it’s the truth all the same.

“If I’m being honest, parties like this usually end up feeling lonely,” he says heavily, and you tip your head back enough to get a good look at him. “I grew up going to these things. My parents were always leaving to talk to friends, leaving me to sit back at the table. And I mean, people talk to me now, but only because they need something. Never because they want to. Not really.”

And that laugh that…wrinkles your nose…

“I want to,” you tell him softly.

It touches my foolish heart…

“I know. And that means more to me than you’ll ever know,” he mutters back, a little choked, a little breathless against your skin as he lowers his face into the space beside your ear, cheek to cheek now.

Lovely…don’t you ever change…

There’s a whisper of a kiss against your shoulder, meant for those looking to see, nothing unusual there. And then he adds, “The parties aren’t so lonely anymore either.”

Keep that breathless charm…won’t you please arrange it?

He holds you closer, if possible. Hides his face in your shoulder—trembling against you as though the words he’s spoken terrify him. They terrify you too. The implication of them. The meaning. The lines in the sand that become blurrier by the day. His head leans back, eyes locking with yours, dancing to your lips, then moving back up again.

His fingers curl around the side of your cheek, and he leans down. Presses his lips to yours in a way that’s familiar. You’ve done this before countless times at dinner. A short peck. The smallest of brushes. Yet you sigh against him all the same, palm resting over his sternum, his hand along your back. Against your skin that burns hot—hotter now.

“No one is watching,” you murmur against his mouth and open your eyes to find the room swirling around you.

They’re not. You’re surrounded by a sea of couples on the dance floor. Even Theobald and Cami, who you would try to go above and beyond to sell your marriage to, are tucked away in their own little world. Forehead to forehead, hand to hand, heart to heart.

Cause I love you…just the way you look…tonight…

But he doesn’t speak.

Doesn’t say a word as you sway to the song, chest to chest in what feels like a slow motion love potion, his other hand joining the first on your opposite cheek. His eyes roam your face, a frantic slide across your features, before he’s leaning down and kissing you anew.

I’ll be gentle, echoes in your mind, his soothing words like balm across the sudden skip of your heart. He is nothing but gentle as his lips slot with yours, your lower lip between the plush curves of his mouth. Warmth, warmth, warmth abounds as your eyes flutter closed and you lose yourself in it.

You’re not his fake-wife right now. You’re not under contract, you’re not putting on a performance for investors or chairmen or Theo, you’re not practicing to make sure it all looks real. This is real—the press of his nose against your cheek, how he uses the touch on your jaw to adjust your head to press in at a better angle, the gentle glide of his soft lips around yours as he kisses you like you’re something delicate. Something precious. Something real.

Time stands still and time rushes forward all at once, the moment exploding through all those ‘what if’s and ‘what are we doing’s and ‘should we’s. None of that exists here as your swaying comes to a stop in the middle of the dancefloor, your fingers tucking into the lapels of his tuxedo in a show of please don’t go.

His steady hand skates down, sliding along the side of your throat to press the tips of his fingers into the nape of your neck, thumb beside your ear in a show of I’m right here.

You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until your lungs absolutely burn in your chest, pulling just a sparse inch away to gasp in air like you’ve just surfaced from water. Steve is similarly affected, shoulders in a heaving rise and fall as he presses his forehead to yours. Neither of you say a word as you catch your breath—your eyes lost in the mossy green woven into the golden brown of his hazel eyes, his flicking back and forth between your gaze and the shine of your lip gloss like he can’t think about anything else.

A gentle clear of his throat, a harsh swallow of nerves before his lips, the ones that just kissed you, tilt in a bashful smile. “I didn’t mean to take your breath away,” he murmurs in a tease, hot air puffing against your lower face as he gently laughs.

Unable to find the part of you that wants to tease back, to make it a joke, to keep it safe, you’re pouring out honesty when you tell him, “You don’t have to try very hard to.”

He remains there, you both do, bodies swaying, foreheads pressing close. There are no more stolen kisses, no whispers of breath between the two of you, only the quiet of togetherness that drowns out the rest of the room. There are no decisions for the ‘what next?’ nor the ‘what does this all mean?’ Instead you relish in the moment, hands still around his lapels, his own covering yours, keeping you near to him.

And that’s more than enough.

——

if there was ever a chapter i would love to hear your thoughts on—it’s this one! please consider reblogging, liking, leaving a comment. you all mean the world to me. haha seeing everyone get excited over this fic has made my week. xo luna. 🤍

#lunalovessteve #steve harrington x fem!reader #Steve Harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #modern!steve harrington #fake husband!steve harrington

480 notes · View notes

ohtobeleah · 7 months

Text

Odds Are? // Robert Floyd

Summary: A quiet night at the Hard Deck doesn’t stay that way when two men hold you at gunpoint for the combination to the safe.

Warnings: Gun violence. Bob Floyd x F!reader. Character death. Bobby boy whump.

Word Count: 3.1k

Author Note: Day Five of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Held At Gunpoint. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“For a guy who doesn’t drink you sure like to hang around my bar an awful lot Bob.” It was one of the quietest afternoons the Hard Deck had ever seen. Monday night was usually the most boring night to close, but every now and then you didn’t mind the lul in patrons. It gave you a good excuse to reset the bar supplies, clean the nooks and crannies that often got missed, refill salt and pepper shakers that sat on the dining tables along with the accompanying sauce bottles. “Do you wanna help me slice these lemons?”

Bob sat across from where you stood slicing a new batch of lemons and limes into small wedges. He nursed a glass of lemonade between his hands as he nodded in response. Completely and utterly spellbound by the sound of your voice coaxing him to come behind the bar. Uncharted territory for all the Daggers.

Penny had a rule: No fly boys behind the bar. But you wouldn’t tell. Not when it was half an hour till closing time and Bob was the only patron left in the entire building.

“I uh, I enjoy the company, Miss Simpson.”

“What are the odds that I’m going to have to tell you that it’s Y/n again?” You sighed playfully as the heat in your cheeks rose. Bob came to stand behind where you stood, slicing your latest lime. He couldn’t see it, but he knew a smirk was creeping across your oh so beautiful face. “Or Gidget at least.”

Bob was feeling a little more bold than he usually was, so before he answered he gently pushed your hair to one side to expose the junction of your neck. His fingers danced across your skin igniting your senses as they did so, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“At least once more, Miss Simpson.” Bob cooed as he leaned in to softly press his lips right below your ear. “You’re dad scares the hell outta me, I wouldn’t want him to think that I would ever disrespect his daughter.”

As Bob's hands trailed down to your hips to keep you steady on your feet, he heard a soft but audible chuckle escape you as you placed the knife down on the chopping board and spun around to face him.

“You call what we did last night respectful, Lieutenant Floyd?” The memory sat at the very forefront of Bob's mind. You were the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, physically and emotionally. But in all the time Bob had known you—he never thought you were more beautiful than when you were on top of him, completely naked and on full display just for him, rocking your hips back and forth as the angelic sounds of your needy little whines echoed off his bedroom walls.

“You didn’t seem to have any complaints.” Bob teased as he pulled you into him. Your hands came flying up to cup his clean cut cheeks as his supple lips ghosted yours. “But no ma’am—that was very disrespectful of me.” Bob let his forehead rest against yours as he took in the way you bit your bottom lips in anticipation. “You should totally reprimand me, you know—for being so disrespectful to such a lovely respectful lady such as yourself.”

“Hmm—“ You hummed in response. “How about you help me slice these lemons, shut up shop and maybe, I’ll let you disrespect me some more?”

“You’re a miscreant, Miss Simpson.”

“And you’re a very good fuck, Lieutenant Floyd.” It was then you reached around to grab one of the lemons that were still yet to be cut and held it up before Bob's face. “But lemons first.”

Bob took the lemon in his hand before he looked back down at you. His eyes told you he was all in, all in for you and everything you could give him. His lips gently pressed themselves against yours for a fleeting moment. But with Robert Floyd time stood still.

“Yes ma’am.” He replied before he let you turn back around to get back to the likes you’d been working away at. Sorting them into containers for the next few days. “I’ll uh, I’m just gonna head to the bathroom real quick and then I promise, I’ll be the best bar assistant you’ve ever had.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” You watched as Bob rounded out from behind the bar, you pointed the very tip of your knife at him as he walked away. “But I wouldn’t give up your day job just yet, I know flying multi million dollar fighter jets is life threatening and all, but I’ve had some pretty serious run ins with some pesky lemon seeds before that would just make your heart stop.”

Bob knew in that very moment he wanted more. Whatever the two of you were, he wanted more. He wanted you at every point in the morning, noon and night. He wanted you day in and day out, hour after hour, minute after minute. Ever since he first saw you shaking hands with Penny after accepting a casual bartending job while you were staying at your dads place, he knew he wanted to know you in some aspect.

But by god did Robert Floyd fall hard for Admiral Simpson's only daughter. You couldn’t make it easy on the guy could you? No—you just had to be the daughter of the guy who could make or break Bob's career.

“I’ll be back in a minute—“ You expected Bob to call you Miss Simpson like he always did. Even when the two of you were romantically involved he wouldn’t say your name. It felt too real then. Like if he said your name you’d slip right through his fingers. It was simple ‘darlin’ if it wasn’t Miss Simpson. But as Bob stopped in his tracks and knocked his knuckles on the bar, he sent you a soft smile—half sided and crooked as all hell. “Y/n, I’ll be back in a minute Y/n.”

“Hurry back, Bob.” Bob's eyes lingered on you for a few more seconds before he disappeared out of sight. You couldn’t contain the smirk that plastered itself across your face as you went back to cutting your lemons and limes.

You could see yourself really falling in love here. With Bob, the shy but albeit sweet as sweet could be fly boy who just took your breath away with such ease. You always told yourself that you’d never fall for a Naval Aviator—you didn’t want to live that life. But with Bob it seemed so effortless, so simple, so—organically meant to be.

“Are you still open sweetheart?” A man’s voice broke you out of the daydream you’d fallen into thinking about Bob and all the things that made him, simply him.

“Oh!” You looked around for the clock, confirming the time before you answered the gentleman poking his head through the front door. “Yeah—yeah I’ve still got a good fifteen minutes before I start closing down the bar.”

“Sounds like just enough time.” The man smiled as he entered the bar, soon enough he was followed by two other men who all wore black denim jeans in black puffer jackets. “I’ll get a rum and coke if that’s not too much to ask for, sugar.”

“What brings you fellas in so late on a Monday night?” You asked as you wiped your hands on your apron, your hands were covered in lemon and lime juice. But you went about fetching the gentleman his order.

“Oh you know—“ One of the men began as he sat up on one of the barstools. “We’re just here to make some quick cash.” You weren’t too sure if you had heard the man correctly as you poured his shot into the cool class. But when you looked up to see the handgun sitting on top of the bar, with the safety off and a fully loaded clip, you knew you had heard him correctly. “You’re gonna finish making me that drink, and then you’re going to give us whatever you’ve got in that till there.”

Although you could have sworn your heart was about to explode out of your chest from the fear coursing through your veins, you stood firm and kept a stoic look upon your face as you reached for the soda gun.

“Unfortunately gentleman you picked the wrong night of the week to hold the joint up.” You sighed, going about your business as normal. Finishing off the drink the man with the gun had ordered before you placed it right in front of him on a little Hard Deck coaster. “Float only carries two hundred and twenty five dollars in it at any one time, and that’s on a good night.”

“All that extra overflows gotta go somewhere, doesn’t it girly?” The man sitting off to the right added as he played with a straw he’d plucked from the dispenser.

“The hand soaps a little low in the mens.”

Your heart froze inside your chest at Bob's voice, sweet baby boy Bob. “I can refill it if you’d like? I just need the key—“ As Bob looked up to see three men sitting around the bar, he didn’t immediately think anything was wrong. It was only when his eyes saw the hand gun top of the bar that he froze. “Give them what they want—“

“Bob—“ You warned as you crained your neck his way. “Don’t.”

“Oh what have we got here boys?” The main man with the gun chuckled to himself with utter glee when he noticed Bob wearing none other than his service khakis. “A naval man.” He snickered to his buddies as they all got up from the barstools they’d taken seats on. “How’s good old Uncle Sam treating you?”

“Not as well as you’d expect—“ Was all Bob replied with as he made sure his hands could be seen. His eyes never left yours though as he watched you frozen behind the bar. “Whatever you want, take it—just don’t hurt her.”

“Oh he’s a hero lads!” The man with the gun laughed as he walked closer and closer over to where Bob had frozen in his tracks. “Lucky for you—she doesn’t get hurt if she just gives us what we want.”

“Then take it and leave.” Bob hissed, he wasn’t taking any risks here. Whatever these guys wanted they could have it. Nothing was as valuable as your life was. Nothing couldn’t be made back or re-purchased. But there wasn’t another you.

“Where’s the safe dollface?” The man with the guy who’s eyes reminded you of soulless pits of darkness turned back to face you. “Because odds are you won’t wanna see Mr. Military Man here with a bullet between his eyes, would you?”

“It’s in the back.” You whimpered as tears streamed down your flushed cheeks. Bob could see how scared you really were, how frightened you’d become the moment he walked in the room. “I’ll take you to it but I don’t know the code—“ You weren’t lying. Penny hadn’t told anyone the combination to the safe. She’d leave it unlocked until you cashed out. Once you put the cash in for the night? That was that—you couldn’t open it again. “And I already changed out the till for the night. So again—I’ve got two hundred and twenty five dollars here, all yours.”

As soon as you had said you didn’t know the code, the man holding the gun with the dark soulless eyes pointed the gun he held in his head directly at you. Bob moved to step in the way—if that guy was gonna shoot anyone it was gonna be him.

“Woah, woah, woah, woah—“ Bob panicked. This was not what he had had in mind for a quiet Monday night. “Just take the whole safe? If she can’t unlock it, just take the whole thing.”

“You’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve standing between this gun and that girl Lieutenant.” The man growled as his two buddies went to stand on either side of Bob as you watched from behind the bar. “Keep him busy while little miss over here shows me where the safe is.”

Your legs wouldn’t move, it felt like you were glued in the spot you stood as the fear rushed through your adrenal glands.

“Get the fuck over here before I change my mind and shoot you both.” Again you couldn’t move, you couldn’t barely begin to think about moving one foot in front of the other. But then there was Bob.

“Y/n—“ Bob warned as he turned around to face you. “Just give them whatever they want, and they’ll leave.” He reminded you, making sure to keep his composure as calm as he could. “I’m right here, just show him where the safe is.”

“Honey so help me god if we don’t get what we came here for someone is gonna end up dead.” The click of the pin being pulled back made you jump before you were rushing around to the other side of the way. “Atta girl—“

“Bob—“ You whimpered as you made your way past. He was all that you wish you could have been and more. Brave, heroic, calm. He reached out for you even though the two men who stood on either side of him stopped him from doing so, he still tried.

“You’re okay, just do what he says, I’m right here, you’re okay.” Never did you ever think you’d find yourself in this situation. Being held at gunpoint in your place of work. Statistically it was bound to happen, you just never thought it would happen to you. Little old you in North Island. A town full of Naval men and women. “Go, I’ll be fine.”

“Quicker we get this over with the quicker we’re outta here sugar.” The man still holding the gun reminded you as you walked with him towards the back of the Hard Deck. Penny had a small office you would use to do ordering in. In that small office she kept the taking for the week before she would bank them.

Monday nights were usually bank nights. Which meant there was not left except for a double hundred dollars you’d only just cashed out.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked nervously as you made your way into the office with the barrel of a gun pressed into the small of your back. There was a rather rugged hand guiding you on your shoulders, pushing you along. “There’s a million and one places you could have gone, why here?”

“My buddy Harrison got tossed outta here not long ago by the bitch who owns the joint.” It was all the explanation you really needed. “Call it cosmic karma—“ You made your way over to where the safe was and pointed it out before you turned back to face your captor.

“There, again I don’t know the combination—but if you and your buddies can carry it I’ll let you walk out with it.”

“Oh will you.” The man snarled as he closed in on you. “You’ll just let me walk out with it will you?” He had you up against the wall in seconds—the gun pressed into your jaw. “Why do the real pretty ones have to have such big fucking mouth.”

“POLICE!” It couldn’t have come soon enough. “POLICE GET DOWN ON THE GROUND!” You could hear the yelling coming from out front as you smirked wildly. There had been a panic button under the bar, the second you saw the gun? You’d hit it without hesitation.

“What are the odds you can carry that thing alo—“ Warm. That’s how you’d described it. The feeling of the bullet entering your stomach at point blank range felt warm as much as it felt as cold as ice. “Oh.”

“What are the odds you make it out of here alive?” The man who’d just shot you snickered before he stood back and watched you slide down the wall. Your hand was oozing crimson red as you tried to hold a firm pressure against the wound you’d sustained. But your mind was fogging with every passing second.

He ran. The man who’d just shot you and left you to die ran as fast as he could out the back door. You saw a police officer run after him in a blur. But time was moving as quickly as it was standing still.

“Y/n?” Bob's voice barreled down the hall as he came racing through to find you. “Y/n?” He knew you would have been back here somewhere. He’d heard a shot ring out, a single gut wrenching gun shot that had him on edge. “Oh my god—“

“I’m sorry.” Was all you could muster up as you bled through your work shirt. “I’m so sorry—“

“I—I need a medic!” Bob shouted over his shoulder before he was coming to your aid. He placed his hand over your and pressed a little firmer. “Hey, hey, you’re gonna be alright.”

“What are the odds of that exactly?” You chuckled softly, Bob didn’t miss the way a little blood painted your bottom lip and the place’s between your teeth. “Bob?”

“High as all hell you hear me?” Bob replied as he pressed his lips to your forehead. “Y/n baby, do you hear me?”

“I’m just gonna—“ Bob could see your neck struggling to keep your head upright. “Need to rest my eyes for a minute.”

“No, no, no, no—you stay here with me.” Bob pleaded as your blood stained his hands. “We still have to finish cutting the lemons.” He tried to make you smile again. “I’ve still gotta show you just how good of a bar hand I can be.”

“Show me tomorrow?” You felt the cold first, everything was numb before you even knew what hit you. Bob could tell too. He could see the light behind your eyes fading. He knew you were leaving, so Bob pressed his lips against yours gently just one more time. For the last time.

“Tomorrow, and all the other days after, Miss Simpson.” Bob hoped you’d have enough strength to tell him just one more time.

“It’s Y/n.” You did, without hesitation. “Please Bob—“

“What are the odds you tell me you love me?” Bob asked as he wiped your tears away with the hand that wasn’t holding yours against your stomach. Trying his best to stop you from bleeding. “Y/n?” But it was too late.

Your eyes were trained on him but you were already gone. But as Bob cried he whispered it to you for the first and last time. He couldn’t let you go without you knowing.

“I love you so very much.” ***~***~****~***~****~****~***~***~***~***~***~

Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers s @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt

#ailesswhumptober2023 #leahs Whumptober Masterlist #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd #top gun bob #maverick top gun

217 notes · View notes

undiscovered-horizon · 4 months

Text

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

[Astarion fixes your torn shirt because he'd hate to go in public next to a fashion catastrophe... Or so he tells himself.]

You're not entirely sure what you're doing. Granted, the technicalities are known to you but it's the details, the swiftness of motion, that escapes you.

Stab, thread, stab, pull

What should be a basic, not complicated life skill, turns into fighting against the inanimate in your hands. The stitching is uneven and doesn't match the original pattern. Neither does the colour of the thread you're using but that is the last of your worries. As long as the hole in your shirt is gone and the garment is wearable again, you're fine with the outcome. Even if it looks... not exactly presentable.

Astarion, however, has a quite different opinion:

"By the Hells, what is that?" he asks with a gasp, a hand flying to cover his mouth. The look of horror on his face would be comical if it wasn't so genuine.

He's standing above you as you sit in front of the campfire in hopes of the light aiding you in your battle against cotton. But no amount of light can cure your inexperienced hands. "Um... my shirt?" you answer hesitantly. What is he going on about?

From a look of shock, his face contorted into a grimace of disgust. Red eyes look between you and the cotton garment lying in your lap. Thankfully, he's able to control his expression as his thoughts begin to wander, picturing himself on top of your thighs instead of the torn shirt. Still appearing unbothered, Astarion manages to shake those fantasies away.

"With that horrendous stitching, it's more of a crime, darling," he continues. Despite his words serving as more of a facade for his vulnerable desires, there's a lot of truth in them: both the colour and the stitching pattern you've chosen are vastly different from the original seams. At least it keeps the material together?

Astarion's strong opinions are the last thing you need right now. You're tired, sore and frustrated to no end. And the whole shirt fiasco is definitely not helping as well as the numerous painful pricks to your fingers. It's hard to keep steady, careful hands when you're exhausted physically and mentally.

"This horrendous stitching, as you called it," you say with a despondent sigh, "is better than having a gaping hole in my clothes. Look, if you're not going to help, just-"

"Help?" he interjects. "My dear, you need a miracle to salvage this." Astarion graces you with a smug chuckle. "Fortunately, I am nothing if not a virtuoso with my hands," he drones his words. The allusion is not lost on you but you're really not in the mood to humour his antics. "Give it to me."

"Suit yourself," you mumble as you hand him the shirt.

"Oh, I will."

And with those words, he leaves for his tent. Still sitting by the fire, you carefully watch Astarion from afar. His thin hands wave the needle with impressive grace and precision. It doesn't seem that he's stitching the garment to just be done with it. The movements of his hands have a certain sense of caring to them.

If you were a little less tired and emotionally spent, you'd probably question his motives - after all, why would he strangely selflessly fix the shirt you wear mostly around camp? Little do you know, Astarion himself is having these very doubts. Maybe one day he'll accept that his concern for your fashion is just a convenient excuse to worm his way into every aspect of your person and life.

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #astarion imagnie #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3

125 notes · View notes

roosterforme · 9 months

Text

The Curveball Part 6 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Bob fears that things with Molly are a lot more physical than emotional for her. But when Molly gets a visit from Casey, it helps her recognize just how strong her feelings for Bob really are.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing, 18+

Length: 5400 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story accompanies Batting Practice!)

Check my masterlist for more! The Curveball masterlist

Thank you to @mak-32 and @teacupsandtopgun for the beautiful banners!

Bob checked the time while he made dinner and smiled. Molly would be over soon. She never gave his key back, and he never asked for it back. It had been on her keyring for a few weeks, and he loved it when she let herself in and called his name.

He heard the key in the door and froze, closing his eyes to let her voice wash over him. "Bobby?"

"In the kitchen, Mo," he answered. She looked perfect to him even though she came right from work. And Bob wanted her immediately. But the way she always initiated sex with him as soon as she saw him was starting to become a red flag. So he held back. Or he tried to. But her arms were around his waist, and her lips were on his neck, and she was whispering something dirty.

He was the one constantly whispering that he loved her. But she hadn't said it back. Not once. And now, in spite of himself, he was getting hard for her as she took his hands and guided them up the front of her scrubs top and inside her sports bra.

Immediately his brain told him something new and exciting was going on, and then Molly said, "I got something for you." He ran his thumbs across her nipples. The little bars he liked so much were gone, which sent him into a state of panic. But as she peeled off her top and her bra, Bob's heart started pounding. A strangled sound escaped him as he looked at Molly's nipples which were now sporting delicate gold rings with charms hanging from them. Glasses charms.

"Honey," he moaned, dipping his head down to taste her there before he could even comprehend what he was doing. And a moment later, when Bob was laying on his living room floor with his pants pulled down and Molly riding him, he thought perhaps he was part of the problem.

As he fingered the tiny glasses charms and enjoyed the look and feel of her bouncing on his cock, he realized that he couldn't keep his hands off her for more than five minutes. When he was with Molly, he wanted to be with her in every way. And he still didn't even know what this relationship was. But he knew he could make her cum. He was good at it. Loved doing it.

She collapsed on him, shaking and moaning his name, and he thought he'd gladly do anything to hear her say she loved him.

"What's for dinner?" she asked. "Something healthy?" she added, climbing off of him and letting his cum drip onto his abs. She knelt down to lick him clean, and then he got to his feet as well. Bob was just in awe of her.

"Pasta and salad," he replied, and she kissed his chin and looked up at him with the softest eyes. He wished he could better understand this balance they had which was far skewed in the physical direction. But when she looked at him like that, he felt like everything was okay.

The following day, Molly had to work a day shift. It was Saturday, and Bob was exhausted at the tee ball game. She kept him up half the night with her hands and mouth and pussy all over him. He had literally no idea how Molly was going to manage an eight hour shift when he could barely focus for a one hour game. Plus, he was going to pick Molly up after work and take her to the bar.

"You okay?" Bradley asked him with a smirk. "Damn, you look beat."

Bob sighed and fixed his baseball cap. Maybe he could talk to Bradley about his apprehensions. "Molly came over last night, and she barely let me sleep-"

Bradley grimaced. "Please. Say less."

Bob cradled his face in his palms. "I'm trying to be serious here, okay? I think she is way more into me physically than emotionally. And trust me, this is an issue I never dreamt I would have with a woman."

"Bob," Bradley said with a sigh. "As much as I do not want to know details of any sort... are the two of you doing anything together besides fucking? Like going out? Binge watching a series on TV? Cooking meals? Talking about shit?"

"Yes," he replied. "She's got me addicted to serial killer documentaries. I take her out for sushi at least once a week. But she's not allowed to cook anything in my kitchen after the smoke detector scare. And we went for a hike last weekend. The other night, we laid on her living room floor and talked for hours. But I'm telling you, everything begins and ends with sex. Her hands were down my pants in the grocery store parking lot a few nights ago."

Bradley snorted. "You're fine, Bob. You're actually living the dream and complaining about it. You have a girlfriend who wants you in some capacity or another around the clock. Just enjoy it."

But that was the other problem. Molly wasn't actually his girlfriend. Was she? Did she think she was? Would he sound like an idiot if he asked for confirmation? Bob wanted confirmation, but he had no idea how to ask. And now it was time to start practice.

Every time Bob glanced toward the bleachers and saw Molly's sister, he had to do a double take. But while she was cheering for Everett, she was also subtly waving to Bradley. Thank goodness they had made up.

After the Tiny Eagles won, Bob went home, took a shower, and then took an afternoon nap. He hadn't done this since he had the flu a few years ago. He woke up just in time to leave to pick Molly up from work and take her to the Hard Deck. He changed into jeans and a shirt and fixed his hair. If she didn't get a chance to change after her shift, he'd stop by her place and let her get ready there.

Now that Nat had met Molly, she kept asking Bob to bring her out to the bar, and finally tonight they were both off. But he was nervous to have her around all the guys. His friends would be bad enough, but the bar was a hangout for naval officers, and women were a hot commodity there.

When he pulled into the hospital parking lot, it was packed. Bob thought he saw her car two aisles over as he parked his truck and hopped out to go meet her. And there she was, walking toward her car with her backpack slung over one shoulder and her ID lanyard in her hand. She hadn't spotted him yet, so he just stopped to admire her. She'd changed into some high-waisted white shorts and a light blue crop top with one of Bob's dress shirts unbuttoned over it. The sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, and she was quite effortlessly the hottest woman Bob had ever encountered in his life.

But when she got to her car, Bob watched her expression turn annoyed. He wasn't sure how he missed it, but there was a guy on a motorcycle parking her in. When Molly got close to him, he hopped off, and Bob could hear Molly say, "Casey."

Bob's blood ran cold. She was meeting him here, in the parking lot where she was supposed to be meeting Bob. Molly had reassured him that she was done with Casey, and he had believed her. She promised Bob that he was the only guy she was seeing. He was three parking spots away now, but he couldn't seem to make himself close the distance to Molly. He could almost feel the rejection from here. Yet she didn't look quite happy that Casey was in her personal space.

He was trying to give her a bouquet of the wrong kind of flowers. She liked gas station flowers. Didn't this guy know anything? And now he had Molly caged in against her car. He was going to kiss her. Bob stumbled closer, and then Casey actually did kiss Molly's cheek right next to her mouth.

Bob needed to leave. He needed to go back home. Watching this unfold was going to shatter his heart.

"Fuck you, Casey," Molly said, shoving him away. He was big, and he didn't really budge, but Molly looked pissed off now. "You're only here because you want to get laid."

"Come on, sexy. I got you flowers. I'll take you for a ride to the beach. It'll be fun."

"Not interested," she replied, but he was still right there, practically touching her.

"Why haven't you been texting me back?" he asked, his voice getting a little more gruff.

She rolled her eyes and said, "I'm seeing someone else."

"So am I. Doesn't mean we can't fuck around. Nobody fucks like you. I missed these, too," he said, chuckling while he reached for Molly's shirt, swiping his thumb along the fabric near her nipples as she shoved him again.

Bob was running now, fists clenched as he shouted, "Hey!"

Molly and Casey both turned to face him as he rushed across the aisle, and while Casey looked irritated and mildly confused, Molly's face lit up in a beautiful smile.

"Bobby," she sighed, stepping right into his arms and pressing her cheek to his chest. He held her close, but he didn't take his eyes off Casey.

"This the guy you're seeing?" he asked with a laugh.

Molly didn't have a chance to respond before Bob said in a voice with an undercurrent of rage, "You don't touch her."

There must have been something in his tone, because Casey didn't respond. He just set the flowers down on the top of Molly's car as she pressed her lips to Bob's neck. Her fingers were in his hair as she whispered, "I missed you all day."

"Molly, are you okay?" Bob asked, and she pulled away from him and nodded.

"Yeah, I'm good." Then she raised her middle finger in the air and said," Fuck off, Casey," as the other man climbed on his motorcycle and rode away. "He's just mad because I don't want him anymore."

"He doesn't get to touch you, Honey," Bob whispered, tracing the perfect curve of her bottom lip with his thumb. "I love you." He'd said it several times before, but usually in the dark, and never while making eye contact with her. She kissed his thumb and then his lips, but she didn't respond the way he had hoped.

"Only you get to touch me," she murmured against his mouth, and Bob's heart was pounding for a different reason now as the sound of the motorcycle faded away. "Just you."

"Mo, Honey." His big hands were on the soft skin of her waist, tucked inside his shirt that she was wearing. She skipped a bra. Bob could see the shape of those pretty new rings through her crop top. And she was kissing him, giving him her soft moans as he held her.

"I thought we were going to the bar," she whispered, smiling in the dying sunlight as his hands slid down to her butt. "Wanna see my new friend, Nat."

Bob stroked her lip again. "You'll stay with me the whole time, yeah? Me or Nat. The whole time."

"I will," she promised, looking very pleased with herself. Looking like she had Bob exactly where she wanted him.

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

The drive was pretty quiet as Bob gripped the steering wheel and drove exactly the speed limit.

"So...my sister told me the Tiny Eagles won today."

"Yeah," he grunted in response. Molly sat quietly, unsure how to respond to him when he was like this. He was never like this.

After a mile or so, he asked, "Did you tell Casey to meet you at your car?"

Molly laughed. "Are you serious right now? No!"

"Then why was he there, Mo?"

She turned to face him as he drove, street lights illuminating his face with a golden glow. "The hospital was probably the only place he could find me. I've been avoiding his calls and texts, and I'm at your place more often than I'm at mine."

"Why does he think it's okay to touch you like that?" he asked. His voice sounded calm, but Molly could tell he had to work at it.

"I guess.... because I'd never told him no before," she said softly. "Are you mad at me?"

"At you?" he asked with a bitter sounding laugh. "No. Not at you. Maybe at myself a little bit." He pulled into the bar parking lot and found a spot in the back corner where it was dark. Molly could only make out his profile and the silver glint of his glasses when she unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to face him.

"Don't be mad, Coach Bob. Casey is just upset that I moved on and that he has a tiny penis, and he can't do anything about either of those."

She crawled across the seat, and even though she could tell he didn't really want to, he welcomed her in his lap. She straddled his thighs and kissed him, and after a few seconds, he was kissing her back. He was a little rough, and Molly was whining softly as his lips found her collar bones and her neck.

She rubbed herself against him. He was rock hard in his jeans, and she was already panting and clenching around nothing. She needed him, just like she always did. Her hands went to his zipper, and he didn't fight it as she pulled him free from his jeans.

"Bobby," she gasped when his hands eased her shirt up, and he leaned down to kiss her nipples. She was still wearing the new glasses rings she bought in his honor, and he was pulling them into his mouth one at a time and sucking. She struggled out of her shorts, only glancing around briefly to make sure nobody was watching. It didn't really matter though as long as she could feel him inside her. So she yanked her panties to the side and hissed in pleasure as she sank down around his cock.

"Molly," he grunted, brow creased as he looked at her. He shook his head before he grabbed her by the back of the neck and smashed his lips against hers. When Bob thrust up into her, she screamed, the sound muffled by his mouth. His unfastened belt buckle was rubbing against her clit, and she was already shaking.

"Oh my god," she squealed, pulling his hair for leverage as she rode him rough until she was cumming, back arched in pleasure. Then he grabbed her by the hips and fucked her until he was groaning and whining. His mouth found her breasts again as he filled her up with his cum. Molly held onto him while she shook. She hoped he didn't mind a mess on the front of his jeans, because she wasn't exactly sure how they'd make it out of the truck looking tidy.

"God damn it, Molly!" Bob growled, panting and tipping his head back against the seat. He was looking at the ceiling, trying to catch his breath. But he sounded annoyed, and now Molly just wanted to go get her car and go home for the night, because she felt like she was doing everything wrong.

"What?" she asked softly. He came. It wasn't like the quickie wasn't good for him. Hell, he was still inside her.

But when he tipped his head to look at her again, he looked so sad. She felt tears sting her eyes as he asked, "Is it just physical for you, Honey? Is that all this is?"

"What are you talking about?" she gasped, yanking her shirt down to cover herself. She reached for his hand, and he let her lace her fingers with his.

Bob took a deep breath and said, "I'm talking about me and you." He couldn't even meet her eyes. He was looking at her cheek as he added, "You initiate sex all the time. I need to know. Is this just physical to you?" He was gesturing between their bodies with his free hand, and Molly's heart plummeted into her stomach.

"Bob," she gasped. "No." She kissed him, but he kept his mouth firm. "No," she whispered against his lips. "It's not just physical."

"Molly, you know I can't say no to you," he said, voice raspy. "You're just going to keep messing me up every single time, aren't you? I don't even know what we're doing here. I don't know what this is. You've got me so confused about what you want."

"You!" she practically shouted. "I want you!"

He closed his eyes. "You're all over me like this. But I don't like the way my heart feels."

Molly sobbed. This was a new low, even for her. The man she loved was actually still inside her, and he was about to tell her he didn't want to see her anymore. "But Bob... I love how I feel when I'm with you."

He looked miserable. "I know. I know you said I can make you orgasm, and you said I'm big."

"Not like that!" she gasped. He was cradling his forehead in his hand as she added, "I've never felt this happy around a man before. Not just because you're good in bed, Bobby. I've never needed someone physically all the time like this, because I've never been in love like this. I love you."

He opened his eyes and softly asked. "You do?"

She nodded and swiped at her tears. "Of course I do. It's just... I've never said that before. I've never been in love before. Showing you how I feel physically is the easiest way for me to try to make you understand that."

She was shaking with unshed tears as Bob pulled her against him and kissed her ear and the side of her neck. "I'm sorry," she gasped. "I've never been with someone who loved me."

"I do, Molly. I love you. I want you to be my girlfriend," he whispered, running his big hands up and down her back.

"I kind of thought I already was," she replied with a soft laugh. She kissed his cheek. "But yeah, I definitely am now."

"Perfect." Bob's voice finally sounded calm, and this time when she kissed his lips, he returned every single one.

"I've been thinking it for weeks, but I was scared to say it," she told him, her eyes fluttering closed. "Only two other people alive have ever heard those words from me, so if you think you're not important, Coach Cute Glasses, you're wrong." She opened her eyes, kissed the tip of his nose and said, "I love you."

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

Only a minimal mess was made when Molly eventually eased herself off of Bob's lap after telling him she loved him about a hundred more times and assuring him it was not just physical. Now they were both fully dressed and walking across the parking lot toward the bar entrance hand in hand.

"Is it bad that I'm a little nervous to meet the rest of your friends?" she whispered, looking up at him.

"Don't be nervous. If anything, I'm the one who's nervous, Honey. They're all going to flirt with you relentlessly and try to get me flustered."

Molly laughed as he held the door open for her, and she walked inside the noisy bar where the jukebox was blaring. "I'll just tell them we had sex in the parking lot ten minutes ago. Then they will be the ones who are flutered."

"Please don't," he groaned. "And, Mo? Is it okay if I just do this...." He reached for the front of the dress shirt she had on and did the middle button. He knew he was blushing as he said, "I don't really want these guys looking at you there."

She smirked. "You don't want to make them jealous?"

Bob's lips parted in a soft smile before he kissed her forehead. "Just look at your face, Mo. Gorgeous. They'll be plenty jealous without knowing about your piercings."

"Bob," she whined. "Stop being so perfect, okay? Perfect boyfriends get blowjobs whenever they want them."

He was still blushing as he led her toward the pool table where the other aviators, minus Bradley, were all hanging out. "There they are!" Nat said, hopping off of her stool and heading toward them. And then Bob had to watch every single one of the guys look Molly up and down like she was a dessert platter while she gave Nat a little hug.

"Holy shit," Jake said, eyes soft as he laughed. "Bob, come on. Phoenix said you were bringing the girl you're dating."

"Yeah," Bob confirmed, rubbing his forehead with his hand.

"Bob," Jake gasped. "She's fucking hot."

"I know," he replied as Molly reached for his hand. "Guys, this is Molly. My girlfriend."

You could have heard a pin drop in the corner of the bar. Nat sighed and rolled her eyes before kicking Payback in the shin. He stumbled forward and offered Molly his hand. "Hi, I'm Payback. Or Reuben."

"Hi," Molly replied, shaking his hand. "I kind of wish I had a fun call sign. I'm just Molly."

"Oof," Jake whispered. "I can't think of a few call signs for her."

"Don't," Bob pleaded, shooting him a look.

"She's a smokeshow, Bob," Jake told him with pride in his voice. "I don't know how you did it, but excellent job."

"Thanks," he muttered, watching Fanboy and Coyote flirt and laugh with her. A moment later, Nat was leading Molly up to the bar to get drinks, and Bob dug his wallet out of his pocket. He tried to hand it to her, but she just kissed his cheek and whispered, "I love you," before pushing it back against his chest.

"How the hell did you manage to pull that one?" Coyote asked, watching Molly walk away in her tight shorts. "I've got to know."

"Seriously, Bob," Fanboy chimed in. "I mean, not to be rude, man, but damn."

Now his self esteem was taking a bit of a hit again, but when Molly came back, she pushed him down onto a stool and perched herself on his thigh. She handed him one of the beers she was holding and kissed him. "I love you," she crooned with a soft smile. "The more I say it, the better it feels."

She sipped her drink as he wrapped his arm around her waist. Then they played a little pool and threw some darts, and Molly was never far from his arms. The guys were all still looking at him like he was some sort of magician, but she didn't seem to notice. She loved him. She kept telling him she loved him.

She said it right in front of Nat, and Bob watched his friend blush, too. Because now Molly was a little tipsy, and she had her hand on his abs under his shirt. "Bobby, we should go home soon. I love you, and I wanna fuck you."

"Mo," he gasped, kissing the top of her head. "I love you, too. But everyone else can hear you, Honey."

"I don't care," she replied, licking his neck before she smiled at the guys. "You don't care if I tell Bob I love him and wanna fuck him, do you?"

They all looked at her, wide eyed and shaking their heads.

"See, Lieutenant Floyd? They don't care."

Bob lasted another five minutes before she was dragging him out to the parking lot, ready to go home.

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

Bob had Molly draped across him in bed on Sunday morning. The sky outside looked a little stormy, so they used that as an excuse to not move. "Let's just say put," he whispered, running his fingers along her arm. Goosebumps broke out in their wake, and she sighed.

"Not even worth moving when we're so comfortable," she told him, squeezing his side.

He was feeling so much better now about the way Molly responded to him physically. Now he knew that she loved him. They were in a relationship with a label. He thought he'd be able to enjoy the physical romance as much as he was enjoying the emotional romance now.

Then their quiet cuddling was interrupted by his phone going off four times in a row with new text messages. Bob kissed her forehead and murmured, "Just when I was ready to stay right here until it was time for you to go to work."

Molly giggled and rolled off of him to reach for his phone. "I have to pee anyway." She handed him his phone and his glasses, and Bob watched her sashay out of his room completely naked.

He groaned as he opened a bunch of messages from his sister Rebecca. "Oh no." He never responded to her about going to Piper's birthday party which was now just six days away. Really, he only wanted to go if Molly went with him, but asking her to meet his family was stressing him out.

"What's wrong?" she asked, already climbing back into bed with him. His eyes were trained on her nipples as she eased herself down against his chest. The way her piercings pressed against him somehow calmed him now. He was just so used to her being here.

"Do you want to go to Piper's birthday party with me?" he blurted out.

She ran her fingers through his hair with a smile. "When is it? I might have to change my work schedule."

"Saturday afternoon. Up in San Bernardino. And look, we haven't been dating very long, and my whole family is going to be there, so if you don't want to go, Honey, I totally understand."

"Oh," she gasped softly. "You want me to meet your family, Uncle Bob?"

He closed his eyes, unwilling to lie to her. "Desperately." He cracked one eye open to find her grinning at him before easing herself down his body.

"Perfect boyfriends get blowjobs," she reminded him before disappearing beneath the covers and wrapping her lips around him. She really must have thought he was perfect based on the way she got him off. And when she was done, she licked his tongue and told him she'd go to the birthday party.

But when Saturday came, Bob found out that Molly had to give up her daytime shift to accommodate the party. She tried to shrug it off when he picked her up. "I'm just a little worried about making my rent with a day short of pay, but it'll be fine," she told him, slipping into his truck with the gift she insisted on buying. "I have money in savings."

Bob was about to tell her he'd pay her rent, but she leaned across the seat and kissed every viable thought out of his brain. So he put his truck in gear while Molly was in charge of the music, and the ninety minute drive to his parents' house felt like nothing when he was with her.

When he pulled down their driveway, Molly was wiping her palms on her sundress. "I'm a little nervous," she admitted. "I've never met parents before." Once again, Bob couldn't understand how he was lucky enough to be Molly's first for so many things.

"They'll love you. My sister Rachel is ridiculous. You'll like her. And I'll be with you the entire time."

She nodded and crawled out his door behind him and into his arms. "If they don't like me, I'm blaming you."

The introductions were even more shocking than the night at the Hard Deck in that Bob's entire family was looking at Molly with mixed expressions. Rebecca was excited to see her again since they had already met. Even Piper gave Molly a quick hug. But Bob's parents and his middle sister were looking at him with his arm around Molly with barely concealed shock.

"I don't think they like me," Molly whispered, trying to dig her feet in.

"That's not it, Mo," he promised. "It's more like they can't believe I didn't make you up."

When Molly shook hands with his mom and then his dad and then Rachel, they all glanced at him. "Welcome!" his mom said. "The way Bob speaks about you, well... you seemed too good to be true, Molly!"

She shrugged with a little laugh. "Well, I'm just regular, old me."

"No, that's not true," Rachel replied with a smirk. "Bob must be ready to buy a ring or something, because the last time he brought a girl home, she dumped him the next day. And he vowed to never bring another one unless he was going to marry her."

Molly turned to look at Bob where he stood behind her. "Thanks, Rachel," he said with a fake smile and an unspoken promise that she would pay for that later. "Your mind is like a steel trap, isn't it?"

Rachel just shrugged and ate some potato chips. "Just keeping you honest. Anyway, Molly, it's really nice to meet you. I'll see you at your wedding."

Bob wanted to disappear. Betrayed by his own sister. He always did like Rebecca better. But then Molly surprised him by saying, "I'll let you know the color for the bridesmaids dresses."

Rachel smiled at her. And then his dad was taking her on a tour of their house. And then his mom was laughing as Molly told a funny story about a mishap in the emergency room. And then Molly was running around outside with the kids.

"Bob, where did you find her?" his mom asked, grabbing him by the forearm and shaking him.

"At tee ball," he replied softly, watching Molly laughing as Piper sat down on her lap.

"Please, bring her back again. For a longer visit. When I have more time to talk to her."

"I will, mom."

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

Molly was exhausted when she said her goodbyes to Bob's family. The kids had worn her out all afternoon. But when his mom pulled her in for a hug, she felt like crying. She couldn't remember the last time she got a mom hug from anyone other than her own sister. And it felt so good, she ended up hugging her back for probably way longer than was actually appropriate.

"Thanks," Molly whispered. "Thanks for having me."

When his mom pulled away and looked at her, she said, "Bob promised me he'd bring you back again soon. I know he must be very serious about you, so hopefully we won't have to wait too long for another visit."

Molly swallowed past the lump in her throat, and she didn't know what compelled her to say anything as she whispered, "I love your son," like some sort of a lunatic. It must have been all the mom hugs that made her feel weak.

But he mom replied by pulling her in for another hug before Bob took her by the hand and led her out to his truck. It was getting dark, and the ride back to San Diego would get them in late. But Molly already knew she was welcome to crash with Bob for the night. She knew he would want her to.

But she was still surprised when Bob started rambling as he merged onto the highway. "I know it's probably too soon. And maybe I shouldn't even say anything. But I just can't seem to stop thinking about it. About how we never spend the night apart. Even when you work overnight, you end up in my bed in the morning. Or I end up at your place, just waiting for you to get home so we can go to sleep together." He paused, and she reached for his hand. He glanced her way with a nervous smile before he blurted out, "Molly, do you want to move in with me?"

"Oh," she gasped, delighted by the idea of if. In love with the idea of handing him his glasses every morning and knowing he would make her breakfast. Being together to binge watch documentaries and eat sushi. "Yes."

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

Moving in together! So, Bob is a stud. Was he always a stud, or does Molly bring it out in him? Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who bugged me to make Molly and Bob a thing!

PART 7

@theamuz

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@katiedid-3

@bradshawsbitch

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@callsign-magnolia

@t-nd-rfoot

@wkndwlff

@eddiemunsonreader

@wintercap89

@the-fever-of-mankind

@yanna-banana

@lovingperfectionsblog

@daisydont-lie

@sappy-seresin

@birdy-bat-writes

@cutelittlefakejourneys

@cottagecori

@fandom-princess-forevermore

@sotalife

@shrimping-for-all

@xoxabs88xox

@rileyanntoinette

@mannsachds

@midnightmagpiemama

@greatszu

@zetasaturno99

@lovingrobertfloyd

@chicomonks

@taytaylala12

@captain-fandomwriter58

@grxcisxhy-wp

@hobireasns

@wolfquake23

@ohgodnotagainn

@toobouquet

@paintlavillered

@seitmai

@tigermoon3

@noonenuts

@amiets2

#bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fic #bob floyd #bob floyd fluff #robert floyd fic #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x oc #bob floyd fanfiction #robert floyd fluff #robert floyd fanfiction #robert floyd x oc #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #the curveball #batting practice #bob floyd smut

353 notes · View notes