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milf-murdock · 2 days

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Safety First

(AKA: The one where Simon views “the law” as a relative term when it comes to your safety)

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Civilian!Reader

Summary: After a scare involving a break-in at your flat, Simon decides to take extreme measures to ensure your safety—including getting you an illegal firearm and teaching you how to use it. What he doesn’t expect is just how turned on he is by watching you shoot it. Warnings: potential break-in scenario described, protective Simon to the rescue, use of a firearm, descriptive use of firearm, smut (I promise there is a plot here though it just….devolved into smut because I have no self control), P in V, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex, sliiiiiiight breeding kink, praise kink (really exposed myself with the number of “good girls” here👀), no mask Simon because civilian life, mate 😌 A/N: I had a lot of fun with this. It just seems so very “Simon” to me. He would have exactly 1 (one) incident where he gets scared shitless that something has happened to you, and he would pull every last goddamn string necessary to get your trained up on a handgun to make sure you can defend yourself always, even when he’s not there. Personal firearms are very much illegal in the UK but you can’t tell me the 141 boys aren’t packing at home. Simon Riley?? Leaving weapons behind?? Be so fucking for real.

Your grip on the shopping falters, nearly dropping the heavy container of milk. Your body freezes as you take in the sight before you, immediately on high alert. The front door stands ajar.

Someone’s broke in, your anxieties speak for themself. Images flash in your mind at a rapid pace, escalating in concern: men ransacking through your things, hiding out, waiting for you, strong foreign hands on your body—your shaking hands have your boyfriend’s number dialed before your imagination dares to unfold any further. You drop the shop bags on the floor, backing away from the door and down the hall of your complex.

“Hey—“ the deep familiar baritone is immediately cut off by your sobs.

“Si-Simon?” You choke out his name between your gasping breaths. You try to steel yourself, but the tears have already started.

“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” Simon’s voice instantly hardens, shifting to one of action.

The tears are relentless now, and you try to force them at bay to respond.

“Answer me, love, are you hurt?” Simon’s voice raises ever so slightly in pitch.

“N-not hurt,” you gasp out. “It’s my flat. The door’s open. I know I locked it—at least I think I locked it, I went to the shop, I needed more milk, remember? I was only out for a bit—“

“Breathe, babe. Breathe.” You can hear the jingle of keys in the background of the call. “Listen to me very carefully, love. You turn around right now and get back in your car. Lock the doors. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right there.”

You sniff, thankful the tears seem to have finally subsided. You’re already put slightly more at ease knowing Simon is on his way. “Okay,” your voice waivers. “I can do that.”

“‘Course you can. Now stay on the line with me until you get to your car.” You hear his car door slam in the background.

__________________

Simon turns the 20 minute drive to 7.

His sharp tap on your window startles you, sending your heart racing once again.

“Stay ‘ere, love. Be right back.” Simon’s voice is muffled through the window, but you nod in response.

Simon makes his way up the stairs to your flat, pulling his concealed weapon to his side and subtly shifting the safety off. The heavy weight of the cold metal is familiar as he cocks the weapon, preparing for a sweep. The motion is as natural as breathing for him. He gently toes open the door, immediately pulling his weapon at attention as he scans the room for threats. “Clear” Simon thinks to himself. Some habits are too deeply engrained.

He makes his way through your flat, thoroughly checking for anything amiss. Once he’s satisfied that everything looks clear, he disarms the weapon, clearing the loaded round from the chamber and clicking the safety back on. The gun gets tucked back safely against his body, concealed from sight as he makes his way back out to your car.

Simon gives you a brief nod, signaling all was clear. At that sign, you fling the car door open and throw yourself out of the car, instinctually trusting those strong arms to catch you.

The moment your face is buried in the broad expanse of his chest, his familiar scent hitting you like a freight train, the tears well up once more.

“S-sorry, I was just so freaked out,” you stutter, unsure if Simon could even understand you with your face pressed against him, but unwilling to untangle yourself even a bit.

“Shh, it’s alright swee’art,” Simon murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as his hand rubs soothing circles on your back. “I scoped out the whole place. It’s clean.”

He could feel the relief in your body as you took in his words.

“You sure you locked the place up, babe?” Simon treads lightly, not wanting to upset you further. “It didn’t look like anybody had been in. Could’ve just been a draft knocking the door open if it wasn’t shut and lcked properly.”

You pulled your head back from Simon’s chest, fumbling with the edge of your jumper to gently wipe the tears and snot from your face, sniffling.

“I’m sure I locked it.” You pause for a moment. Well, at least you think you’re sure. You think back to when you left your flat, hands juggling your keys, your purse, distracted by your neighbor and his adorably fluffy Pomeranian who were leaving at the same time. Mr. Darcy immediately demanded your attention, of course, and who were you to deny him all the fluff-filled pets his heart desired? Embarrassment curdles in your stomach, a heat creeping up into your cheeks.

“Well, maybe not absolutely sure…” you correct yourself. “I think I did, but Mr. Darcy was out, and I got distracted, and I just needed some milk for my tea, and I—“

Simon took you back in his arms, cutting off your monologue. “Ahh, Mr. Darcy, you said?” He knows your fondness for the small Pomeranian well, especially after the last time you dog sat for them and insisted Simon make friends with the blasted pup. “That would explain it.”

“I’m sorry if I overreacted,” you sigh, shame replacing the fear. “I shouldn’t have called you.”

“Oi-“ Simon is quick to cut you off. His strong hand grips your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “You did the exact right thing. Any time something feels off, got a bad feeling from some bloke at the pub, walking out by yourself in the dark, I don’t care what it is or when it is—you call me. Understood?”

“Understood.” You sniffle once more.

“Let’s get back inside and get you that cuppa,” Simon soothes, one hand pressed to the small of your back as he guides you back inside your flat. He stops to grab the forgotten shop bags off the floor with one hand.

__________________

You two are getting ready for bed, having convinced Simon to spend the night—not that it took much convincing. Simon watches as you parade around the bedroom in one of his oversized t-shirts, toothbrush in your mouth as you walked around getting ready for bed. It’s in these little moments he realizes how truly in deep he is. He’d give his left fucking arm to have this view daily.

“Thanks for coming to my rescue today,” you quip, exiting the bathroom and sliding into bed next to him. “And for agreeing to stay the night.”

“‘Course, love.” Simon opens his arm and lets you get into your designated spot, head on his chest, leg tangled over his, hand resting on his stomach. “Woulda probably stayed the night anyways.”

“Yeah, but still…” you let out a sigh as you settle in, curving your body against his. The warmth of his body heat warms your chilled frame.

“I was so scared.” Your voice is a whisper in the dark. “I just kept imagining the worst possible scenario. What if I was home? Alone? And someone did break in? What if you weren’t here? What if you were overseas?” Your breath hitches and your heart rate picks up again. Simon resumes rubbing soothing circles across your back.

“I just felt so helpless. So defenseless.”

“You’re okay.” His voice was low, steady. “Everything worked out okay. You’re safe. I’m here. You’re safe.”

Between the repetitive soothing motion of Simon’s strong hand against your back and the steady rhythm of Simon’s heartbeat, sleep soon found you despite your fears.

As your breaths evened out, Simon’s own mind starts swirling with dark thoughts. The what if’s find purchase in his brain and he subconsciously pulls your sleeping form even closer to him.

You were right, of course. He couldn’t always be here. He had to find some way to make sure you could take care of yourself, to make sure you could defend yourself. He had to know you were always taken care of, no matter where he was.

Of course he had already walked you through the basics of self defense. You had a decent right hook, and he more than appreciated the opportunity to teach you a few other moves that had the two of you sprawled on the floor of your sitting room, sofa pushed up against the wall to create enough space. If his memory served him correctly, that particular little sparring session had resulted in an entirely different from of…wrestling.

But none of it was enough to put his mind at ease. Simon knows that if someone truly meant to do you harm, someone from his line of work…all the moves in the world wouldn’t help you. He wouldn’t want you getting close enough for that kind of combat anyways.There was only one thing that could make him feel even a modicum of peace.

Simon was going to teach you to shoot.

______________

That weekend, Simon woke you up bright and early, claiming to have a surprise date for you.

“Oooh, what is it?” You’re nearly bouncing with excitement in the kitchen chair as Simon hands you your breakfast.

“If I told you, wouldn’t be much of a surprise, now would it?”

“Fair point,” you mumble around a mouth full of toast.

“Let’s just say it’ll make us both feel better.” Simon takes a sip from his mug.

__________________

You gazed out the window, the rising sun casting the military base in a warm glow. Simon had never brought you here before, had always hidden this part of his life away from you. You try to drink in as much detail as you can, driven by curiosity at this mysterious part of his life.

Simon pulls the car as close to the shooting range as he could. Despite the base being mostly deserted this weekend, he was still taking every precaution necessary to ensure he was limiting your exposure to this area of his life as much as he could.

With the car parked, Simon makes his way to your side of the car, his large, protective form shielding you from any prying eyes. He feels particularly exposed without his mask, but it’s a short walk to the range and he trusts that Price has held up his end of the bargain to keep this particular area abandoned this morning. His hand finds its way to the small of your back and guides you inside the range.

The smell of gunpowder immediately filled your nostrils. There was always a lingering scent on Simon when he came home, but nothing quite as affronting as this.

As promised, the range was completely cleared out, and Simon made a mental note to personally thank Price for his help.

“What’re we doing here, Si?” Your voice piqued with curiosity.

“Well, we’re teaching you how to shoot, o’ course.”

“But why? It’s not like I’d ever have access to anything like that. S’not legal.”

“About that.” Simon made his way to an area of the range that housed the standard weapons that were available for practice. He trusted that Price followed through on one other crucial part of this deal.

Sure enough, a small compact handgun was nestled amongst the other array of firearms.

Simon grabbed it, testing its weight in his hand before making his way back to you.

“Listen to me very carefully, love,” his tone shifted, dripping with sincerity, and a touch of his natural commanding energy.

You immediately sober up, looking at him with your full attention as if to show how good a listener you were.

“This is for emergencies only. It stays hidden always. No one knows you have this. No one knows this even exists. It’s very important you understand that.”

“But how did you—? Should I even—?”

“Mm-no questions. Just—“ Simon lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Just trust me. I need to make sure you’re safe. ‘Specially after that little scare earlier this week.”

You nod your head solemnly. “I understand, Si.”

“Good. Then let’s get after it.”

He guides you over to a stall and places your gun on the countertop as you assess your surroundings. There’s five lanes in this section of the range, each separated by stalls with an open range ahead. You can make out five faux targets at the end of the lane, but they seem impossibly far. Surely no-one can actually make that shot, you think to yourself. You’re pulled from your thoughts as Ghost steps up to you and places a pair of bulky earmuffs over your head. “These’ll help protect your ears while we practice,” he says as he adjusts them to fit snugly against your ears.

“Don’t you need some?” Your voice is raised to compensate for your dulled auditory senses.

Simon chuckles in response. “I’ll be alright. M’used to it.”

“Now go pick it up,” he gestures towards the gun. “Safety’s on so don’t worry. It won’t bite.”

Reality sinks in as you step forward and reach for the weapon. It’s lighter than you expected, but there’s a heftiness there that doesn’t have anything to do with the weight of the object itself. You test the feel of it in your hand, mimicking what you’ve seen in movies.

“Good,” Ghost murmurs, stepping up behind you. He’s close enough now that you can feel him pressing up against your back. Two strong arms encase your frame as he leans forward and places his hands over yours. His large hands manage to make the weapon, and your hands, look even smaller. “Hold it like this.” He adjusts your grip just slightly. “Atta girl.”

His thumb guides your own along the edge of the handle until you reach a firm button on the side. “Here’s the safety. You can tell it’s on when this red button is sticking out. See that, yeah?”

You nod your head but it’s taking every ounce of energy you have to focus on his words and not the feeling of Simon’s hard body pressed against your back, his hot breath sending a chill down your neck, and the look of his large hands dwarfing your own—

“Oi. Pay attention. This is important.”

You mentally scold yourself and refocus, adjusting your grip. “Okay, so the safety’s on?”

“Yes. Press it in to turn it off.” You do as he says, the click instantly elevating your senses. Did the gun get heavier?

“Now, pull back the top like this to,” he motions pulling back the barrel. “That’ll load the bullet into the chamber. It should already have a round in there, but we’ll get you some more ammo before we leave. Go ahead, cock it.”

You can’t help the snort that escapes you. “Cock it, eh?” You turn your head to waggle your eyebrows at him.

“Behave,” Simon warns, turning your chin to face forward.

It takes more power than you expected to pull the barrel back, but the reaffirming click lets you know that something did indeed happen inside.

“Alright, she’s loaded now.”

“Okay…” you hesitate, waiting for further instructions. “Now what?”

“Now you point and shoot.”

“At what?”

“See that fella at the end there? Aim for his head.” Simon gestures to the paper dummy hanging at the end of the alley.

“All the way down there? There’s no way anybody could hit that!” You protest.

Simon sighs, resigned, and flicks a small toggle on the countertop, triggering the electric pulley system that pulls the paper dummy closer to you, stopping it about halfway down the track.

“Better?”

“Only one way to find out,” you mutter, adjusting your position and taking aim.

With a centering inhale, you close one eye, aim as best you can, and pull the trigger.

The shot rings out louder than you thought possible, even with the ear protection. The force of the shot thrusts you backwards into Simon’s sturdy frame. Gun powder fills your nostrils even stronger than before. Your heart races as you look ahead to see…

You’ve miss the target completely.

“S’alright, love, wasn’t too terrible for your first shot,” Simon consoles.

“Here, move your foot,” he gently taps the inside of your foot with his toes, and you spread into a wider stance. “Good, now straighten up those shoulders. Don’t worry about cocking it yet, let’s get the position right.”

You do as he says, pulling the gun up once more to eye level.

“Give your elbows a bit more bend. You want to hold it tight, but be loose enough for the recoil so it won’t knock you on your arse.”

“How’s that?” You ask, loosening your shoulders and relaxing your arms just slightly.

“Looks good to me. Go ahead and cock ‘er.”

You pull the barrel once more and ready yourself to take another shot.

“Deep breathe,” Simon reminds you. “Now I want you to keep both eyes open, and look at where you’re directing your shot. You want to aim just slightly above your target. Gravity will pull the bullet down a bit from this distance.”

You try your best to keep all these factors in your mind as you take your aim.

A deep inhale and you brace yourself as you pull the trigger.

This time you have a better idea of what to expect, and you move your upper body with the recoil, feeling more stable.

“Did I do it? Did I hit it?” The excitement radiates in your voice as you eagerly lean over the table to get a better look.

Simon can’t help but laugh at your enthusiasm, so at odds with what he usually sees in this environment. “Let’s take a look,” he says as he presses the toggle and the motorized target moves closer. As it gets within range you see a clear, definitive hole in his upper right chest. “I got him!” You exclaim, jumping up and down.

“Easy there, love,” Simon scolds halfheartedly as he leans over you and clicks the safety into place.

You set the gun on the counter and turn to throw your hands around Simon’s neck, laughing. “I did it, Si!”

You laughter is contagious and Simon’s own chuckle is music to your ears as his strong arms lift you up on your tiptoes. “Yeah, you sure did, babe.”

And then his lips are on yours, his kiss hot and passionate, setting your body ablaze. He deepens the kiss for a final moment before setting you back on your feet and pulling away, leaving you breathless.

“Damn,” the curse falls from your lips as you try to catch your breath, feeling just a tad lightheaded.

“Right,” Simon clears his throat, trying to get the run of himself once more. He not-so-subtly adjusts his trousers bringing a satisfying smirk to your lips before turning you back around.

“Let’s get some more practice in.” His voice is resolute, but the bulging erection currently pressing into your backside says differently as he sends the target back to the middle of the range.

You pick up the gun once more, already feeling more comfortable with it, and adjust your stance to set up for another shot. Simon reaches up and corrects your aim just slightly, and you take the opportunity to lean back into him, ass rubbing against his hardened cock.

“I said behave,” Simon groans aloud, but you can feel his hips thrust ever so slightly in response.

You fire off another shot, reloading and firing two more times. The thrill of each shot sends a jolt of electricity through you. You feel in control. Not helpless. Not defenseless. No, you feel…powerful.

Simon swears his cock couldn’t get any harder. He had brought you here with the express purpose of teaching you to defend yourself when he wasn’t there. How could he possibly have anticipated just how fucking turned on he’d get watching you fire that weapon.

Your confidence grows with each shot, your stance already self-assured. You look like a badass. And right now, it is taking every last goddamn bit of strength and willpower for Simon to stop himself from taking you right then and there.

Finally, the gun gives a satisfying click, signifying the end of your rounds.

“Phew,” you exhale with a chuckle. “That was an absolute thrill.” Clicking the safety back in place, you set the gun down and turn to face Simon.

The wide smile on your face, bright as the morning sun, it takes his breath away. He can’t hold back a second longer. His lips crash against yours, large hands settling on your hips, pushing you back against the countertop. He doesn’t dare break the kiss as his meaty hands slide down to your ass, squeezing the supple flesh before lifting you up with a grunt to set you on the countertop.

“Si!” Your exclamations drown in another breath-stealing kiss as Simon slots himself between your legs.

Simon bites back a groan as he grinds his erection against your core, sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

Deft fingers undo the button on your jeans and you lift your hips up, allowing him to pull down your trousers and knickers in one swoop.

You let out a hiss as the cool countertop meets your bare ass, but the sensation is lost among more exciting sensations as Simon gets on his knees before you. Thank god for his height—even with you seated on the countertop he’s at the perfect height.

“Bloody perfection,” Simon eyes your bare cunt, eyes full of wanton need.

His comment brings heat to your cheek, intensified by his playful nips and kisses placed along your inner thighs.

He kisses higher and higher, exciting you with every soft kiss, before skipping right over where you truly need him, moving to the other thigh.

You let out an exasperated groan. “Quit teasing, Si.”

His brown eyes shoot to yours, giving you a look—how dare you order him around. He has half a mind to punish you right here and now, but the scent of your dripping cunt hits his nose and his mouth waters on instinct. He places one more kiss to your thigh before acquiescing and a moving to your core.

Words escape you as he laps at your heat, eating like a man starved. Fingers tangle in his dark blonde locks, hips rising off the cool countertop to meet him.

Simon’s strong hands slide up your legs, gripping your hips and forcing you back down on the counter, tongue driving deeper between your folds, relishing in your gasps of pleasure.

His tongue slides up your sweet folds, savoring every drop, until he reaches your puffy clit. This is when Simon slows it down, takes his time. His tongue swirls around your clit, sending shivers up your spine. He continues teasing you like this, your legs shaking until you’re not sure how much more you can take.

His eyes are wide open, locked on your squirming form. While shooting that firearm gave you a sense of power, this is what gives Simon his sense of power—watching you come undone by him, his tongue, his actions alone sending you into this frenzied state. His right hand slides from your hip to your inner thigh before sliding inside you. He curls his fingers expertly, hitting that spongey spot inside you, making you see stars. He takes your clit into his moth, suckling at the swollen nub, fingers fucking you hard, preparing you for his cock. He releases your clit with an audible pop, his voice breathy and low.

“You’re gonna come for me right now. Just like this. On my fingers. Understood?”

You’re past caring. You’re past words. But somehow you manage out a breathy “Yes, yes, Si, just let me— I’m gonna—“ his tongue is back on your clit and his fingers hitting that spot just so and you’re toppling over the edge, body going rigid. Simon’s tongue is incessant, lapping up every drop of juice that spills from your sweet cunt, prolonging your orgasm with every nip and suckle until you’re bucking up against him.

“Too sensitive, Si,” you mumble, lost in the haze of your orgasm.

“That’s just how I like you swee’heart.” Simon stands up and undoes his belt, freeing his cock from its restraints. You crack your eyes open to see him wrap a fist around his cock, giving his member a few rough tugs, rolling back the skin to expose the deep red shade at the tip of his cock, already leaking precum. You bite your bottom lip as you let out a moan.

“Now you gonna take my cock like a good girl?” Simon smirks down on you, making eye contact as his fist slides languidly up and down his cock.

You nod fervently.

“Good girl, just what I like to hear.” With that, he notches his cock at your opening, looking to you for one final nod of approval before he starts inching inside.

You gasp at the intrusion, but Simon’s groans are nearly pained.

“Fucking hell, babe, you’re so fucking tight.”

You can only whimper in response, still lost in the post-orgasm bliss.

“Shit,” Simon mutters under his breath. “Gotta relax, love,” he presses one hand against your abdomen. “Relax for me. You can take it. I know you can.”

Simon’s mumbles even more praises, each good girl blurring into one another, lulling you, relaxing you. With a final grunt, Simon thrusts in to the hilt, filling you completely.

“That’s my fucking girl,” Simon growls, pulling out to the tip and thrusting back into you. “Ya always take me so well, so fucking well.”

His thrusts are deep, steady, his thick arms holding your body in place while his hips drive home. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes around the room, punctuated by your moans, and Simon swears he’s never been so thankful for Price’s little favors in his entire goddamn life.

“Si…” you cry out, already feeling that familiar tightening in your stomach. Simon is already two steps ahead of you—he recognizes that tell-tale tightening of your cunt, that change in pitch as your breathy moans increase. Simon slides one hand from your hip down to your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles.

“C’mon sweet girl, my good, sweet girl,” Simon’s hips move faster, cock thrusting into you with reckless abandon as he teeters on the edge. “Gonna come all over this fat fucking cock, yeah? Gonna let me fill you with every last drop of me, huh?” Simon’s words bordered on nonsense at this point, lost in the haze of pleasure.

“Need it, Si,” you gasp. “Need to—gonna—can I—“

“Yes,” Simon growls low. It sends you over the edge, your entire body goes rigid as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you.

“That’s my girl, good girl,” Simon coos, working you through your orgasm. His thumb doesn’t leave your puffy clit until your body is jerking against him, overstimulated and worn out.

“You’re such a good girl coming undone for me, love,” Simon murmurs, pressing a kiss to your damp temple.

You’re barely floating back to reality, but you know he hasn’t finished yet. “Need you, Si,” you moan. “Need you to fill me up…please?” You’re downright pitiful about it, but Simon swears it makes him cock even harder.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Simon adjusts your hips in both holds, holding you steady as he pounds into your swollen pussy. “Fuck,” he groans, eyes rolling back. “Not gonna last long like this.” Simon loses all sense of rhythm as he pounds into you with abandon, searching for his end. “Fuck, I’m coming—“ Simon finishes with a growl, hips giving one final hard thrust before his warm seed start to flood you. Simon holds you close as he finishes, panting hard, forehead pressed to yours.

You reflexively tighten your core, causing Simon to inhale sharply, beyond sensitive.

“Fuck,” Simon curses, his breath still coming in pants as he tries to slow his heart rate. “You’re bloody perfect.”

You chuckle in response, flushed from the thrill and excitement. “You’re just saying that because it turns out I’m a decent shot.”

Simon smiles softly before nuzzling his head in your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there.

“Something like that, love.”

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley imagine #simon “ghost” Riley x reader

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sometimesanalice · 10 hours

Text

Between Friends

Summary: Bradley and you don’t talk about that Spring Break. But a single question asked during a night out at the Hard Deck might just change things between the two of you forever.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 11K

Warning: smut (including loss of virginity), brief mention of underage drinking, and college!bradley in a backwards hat

(Author's note: Happy Birthday Jordan! I wrote this just for you! Look at me keeping secrets from you! Enjoy!)

𝐍𝐎𝐖

Rooster couldn’t control his bouncing leg.

That night at the Hard Deck had started out like any other: good music, good drinks, good people. Over the course of the evening, he’d found himself seated between you and Bob in a lopsided circle with the rest of the Daggers around a few tall tables that had been pushed together just shooting the shit.

It was all fun and games until swapping stories about embarrassing middle school moments turned into cringing over first kiss stories turned into Seresin grinning like a shark asking about how everyone’s first time went down.

Rooster felt his pulse kick up with every collective laugh and groan as his friends went one by one sharing how they’d lost their virginities. Because with each passing story, it meant that you were one person closer to going. And for the first time in his life- even after over two decades of friendship- he didn’t know what your answer was going to be.

So he is just as shocked as his teammates are when you tentatively reveal, “So, um, my first time was with Rooster.” He doesn’t miss the way all his friends’ heads snap towards him.

All eyes are on the two of you, and you’re pointedly looking anywhere but him.

Rooster had been anxiously waiting to hear the story of your first official time, the one that was with someone who wasn’t him. He didn’t realize that you still considered him your first. He’d figured that part of your history had long been overwritten by whoever had been lucky enough to catch your eye and make your heart race in a romantic way.

The two of you had never talked about it in the after.

Not once, not ever.

He didn’t care that people knew, he just wasn’t expecting it.

Jake starts the group out of its stunned silence by slapping a heavy hand on top of the table, nearly sending some bottles to the floor, “I knew it! I knew y’all couldn’t have been friends all this time and not have tried it out at least once.”

“Jesus Christ, dude, chill,” Javy mutters. He’s always been the better of the two about reading the room.

Trying to spare you from being put on the spot even more than you already were now, Rooster mumbles through the way he’d lost his to a girl from his AP Econ class after a playoff baseball game.

He stares at the way you’re nervously picking at the label of the Blue Moon he’d grabbed for you when he went to get a refill of his own. He can practically hear the way your brain is buzzing. He wonders if you wish you could take back the words from where they are sitting on the table with the collection of bottles and peanut shells for everyone to see.

Bob being the team player that he is starts talking about how he’d lost his one summer in college to another camp counselor, going into more detail than he’s ever given before, probably trying to redirect the attention to himself to give the two of you a moment to regroup.

Rooster makes a mental note to tell Penny to put all of Bob’s cream sodas from now on on his own tab.

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do here. Or where to look. Or where to put his hands. He wants to talk to you, but there’s no good way for him to go about it without drawing even more attention to the two of you.

You were supposed to be going on a first date tonight, but he’d talked you into canceling to hang out with him instead. He likes having all of your attention on him. And maybe he’s been a little selfish with you, because he doesn’t like to share you with anyone else. You’ve always been his best friend.

Rooster likes that he gets to talk to you whenever he wants now, and that it doesn’t feel like a never-ending game of catch up anymore. In the year since the Uranium mission, he’d felt like all the fragmented pieces of his life had finally come together. He’d reconnected with Mav, he was living in the same city as his best friend, and he had a place he could finally call home.

He didn’t just want the highlights with you, he wanted everything in between too. There’s no more distance due to time zones and scheduling times to call because now you only live 20 minutes away from him. And the next time he comes home from a deployment, he knows he’ll get to look forward to seeing you there waiting for him.

He feels like he’s learned so much more about the grown-up version of you over the last year than he has in the last ten.

Jake jumps in barely a breath after Bob finishes telling his story. “Well, we all know it’s not the first who matters, but who was the best.” Rooster doesn’t trust the gleam in his eyes or the sharp smile on his face. “Since Bradshaw cut you off before, how’s about you go first this time, darlin’. You can tell us about who knocked your socks off. Maybe this time he’ll let you finish, if you know what I mean.”

It’s thinly veiled snooping disguised as chivalry, and it doesn’t fool anyone. Nat’s eyes dart to him briefly, trying to get a read on him.

He’d been 21 at the time. And while he knows more now that he did then, he also knows his name isn’t going to be coming out of your mouth for a second time tonight.

Rooster takes a sip of his beer, needing something to do.

He knows you’ve been with other people. You’d lived with your ex for over a couple years, for fuck's sake. But it was like an unspoken agreement between the two of you to not talk about your sex lives with each other.

His leg starts bouncing again and he realizes he really doesn’t want to hear this. Not because of his ego, but because he doesn’t know what to do about the knot that’s formed in his stomach.

Your mouth opens and closes a couple times before you speak, “That title would also go to Rooster.” The admission is soft, but sure.

Where his heart had been pounding before, now it feels like it had stopped completely.

It’s been 13 years since that Spring Break. 13 years and he’s still your best?

Barely five minutes ago, he hadn’t known where to look. But now? Now he couldn’t stop staring at you.

He just didn’t understand why you still wouldn’t look at him back.

𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊, 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟎

When you’d floated the idea by Bradley about visiting him at UVA for Spring Break during your weekly phone call, you’d been braced for the disappointment of him already having plans. It was his Senior year, it wouldn’t surprise you if he wanted to go out with a bang and make the most of it. Especially since he would belong to the Navy soon enough.

But he’d taken you by surprise when he started enthusiastically listing off all the places he wanted to show you, planning out your trip like a well-seasoned travel agent before you’d even booked a plane ticket.

You’d started looking up airfare before you’d even hung up the phone. And thirty minutes later you had a confirmation email flagged in your inbox after elatedly charging that aisle seat to the credit card you only used for emergencies.

It had been close to a year since you’d last seen him. He usually spent his Winter Break with your family, but this year he’d stayed on campus for the holidays and it was the longest the two of you had ever been apart since you’d first met him when you were 8.

And maybe that’s why it took you so long to spot him in the Arrivals area of the Charlottesville-Albemarle Airport.

You’ve always prided yourself in being able to pick Bradley out of a crowd anywhere, but in your cursory glance you hadn’t recognized the tall, broad guy with the UVA shirt pulled taut across his chest and wearing a baseball hat backward on his head. It wasn’t until your third searching pass that you’d caught the lips that were quirked up in amusement and those familiar brown eyes trained on you as he leaned ever-so-casually against the faux wood paneling on the wall waiting for you to notice him.

He’d filled out in the months since you’d last seen him. He was more toned than you remembered him being with definition in places where there hadn’t been before. His face had more distinct angles and less baby fat cushioned curves. Still a bit boyish, but he was well on his way to looking like a man.

Bradley raised his hand like he was going to wave, but then he’d mimicked casting a fishing line in your direction and reeling it in. And it was so endearingly stupid- so him- that you couldn’t help but take the bait and made your way towards him with the biggest grin on your face.

You’d ignored the jittery flutter in your stomach as you’d weaved between people and luggage. You’ve never been nervous around your best friend before. There was something that had on your mind a lot as the days to your visit inched closer, but you’d shoved that out of your mind, because you were finally standing in front of him in person for the first time in months.

“Hey, kid,” he’d greeted you, taking your bag, “Charlottesville must have known you were coming, because she’s going to be sunny for you all week.” As soon as you were within arm’s reach, he tugged you right into his chest for a hug. You could feel the unspoken I missed you in the way he squeezed you just that bit tighter before releasing you.

Then he was dropping an arm over your shoulders and steering you towards the exit and driving you into town in the beat-up car he’d bought after selling his prized Montero, the car that Mav had given him for his birthday.

You’re only there for a week and Bradley doesn’t waste a single moment of it.

After dropping your things off in his dorm room, he takes you straight to campus where he gives you the Official Bradley Bradshaw Certified UVA Tour. He buys you lunch from one of the food trucks in the Amphitheater “for sustenance” before taking you to see the highlights. You start with the Rotunda and then the academic village, making a special pitstop at the Whispering Wall for you to tell it a secret. And then he takes you on a more historical tour, like showing you the exact route he used to streak The Lawn and pointing out the place he’d puked after his 21st birthday.

It’s clear he’d put so much thought into your visit because it seems like there is never a down moment. By the end of the third day you’re more surprised that you don't wake up every morning with a printed itinerary on your pillow.

He sneaks you into the Slaughter Rec Center to rock climb, claiming he had a person on the inside with the right connections. But really from what you could tell, the pretty girl at the check-in counter clearly had a crush on him. He takes you to the batting cages he likes to go to before Dead Week, and spends the time there equal parts making fun of your power swing and trying to fix it.

You get your revenge the next day standing outside of the imposing columns and massive doors to the Fralin Art Museum. Skeptically eyeing the sculpture in the front of the building that kind of looked like a giant wisdom tooth, you mentioned, “I didn’t realize you’d become such a patron of the cultural arts.”

“Hey now, I like artsy shit,” he’d said, only mildly affronted.

You snorted at that. “Is there an exhibit on beer pong and blunt rolling you wanted to see?” Through the window you’d spotted some large landscape oil paintings in ornate gilded frames and carved marble busts of what you assumed were probably of some of the Founding Fathers.

“You just missed that one, it was last month,” Bradley lobbed back, opening the door for you.

“What a pity,” you’d said with a dramatic sigh, “Guess we’ll have to settle for some tasteful nudes instead.”

“If we’re lucky,” he’d muttered under his breath, as you passed under his arm.

And then you’d felt the corners of your mouth kick up.

Turning around you’d pressed your finger to his chest, whispering so the person behind the ticket desk didn’t hear you, “Twenty bucks says you don’t make it thirty minutes in there.”

He narrowed his eyes, taking in your sly grin, “You’re on, kid.”

It’s the easiest $20 you’ve ever made.

The two of you call it a truce only after he tips your kayak into the still chilly Rivanna River.

Later that night, he takes you to a party on “Mad Bowl” that one of his frat friends was hosting. The backyard was all strung up with red and green Christmas lights like they had been too lazy to take them down after the holidays and decided it added to the outdoor ambiance instead of packing them away.

He was still just as protective over you as he was back in high school. Spending the whole night keeping an eye on you and handing you drinks that he’d uncapped himself using the opener that he had on his keychain, the one that still had the little fighter jet charm you’d given him ages ago dangling from it.

The days pass all too quickly as he shows you all of his favorite spots.

You knew UVA wasn’t where he’d originally wanted to be- where he thought he’d be- but you were happy that he seemed happy here.

But in between the late-night microwave ramen and movie watching and crossing off all the things on Bradley’s Spring Break To-Do List, there’d been something you’d been wanting to talk to him about. But you were having so much fun with him, you’d missed your best friend over those long months apart, and you didn’t want to ruin the time you had left with him here.

It lingered at the back of your mind like a phantom hair that you can feel, but can’t ever seem to brush off no matter how many times you attempt to. You felt like you were waiting for the right time that you weren’t sure would ever come. And if you were being honest, you weren’t entirely sure you would even be brave enough to ask if the time came.

The two of you had woken up way before the sun this morning.

If anyone other than Bradley had asked you to wake up before 5 AM to go hike to watch the sunrise, you would have laughed at them. But because it was Bradley, you’d set the alarm without comment. Even though he did have to gently pry you out of his roommate’s bed- with the fresh sheets he told you he bought especially for your visit- and lace up your shoes for you.

The views at Humpback Rock had been worth the hour hike up to the outcrop of craggy rocks. The sunrise painted them a stunning shade of soft orange as the rays illuminated evergreen covered hills and valleys that extended in front of you to the skyline. You and Bradley watched it in silence, shoulders pressed against each other as you took it all in.

You’re cozied up on your bed for the week, flipping through a book you’d brought with you, but hadn’t touched at all until now when Bradley comes back from the showers. His hair is still damp and the ends are starting to curl a bit.

He drops a Styrofoam cup of coffee on the nightstand next to you.

You hadn’t been sure what rooming with him would be like, the two of you together 24/7 since his roommate had left to go home for the break. But it felt like you were two kids at sleepaway camp getting away with mischief rather than two broke college students only pretending to get away with mischief.

He sits down at the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his thighs, “So.”

“So?” you repeat, blowing on the hot coffee before taking a sip.

“Are you going to tell me what’s been up with you?”

You wince, and it’s not because the coffee tastes like tar.

“What do you mean?” you try to ask casually.

Bradley gives you a look that says you don’t fool me, kid. “You’ve been squirrely. I didn’t want to press it, but I can tell there’s something on your mind.” He takes a sip of his own milky battery acid. “Are classes going better since you switched majors?”

You nod, looking anywhere else other than at him.

“How are things with your Dad?”

You offer him a shrug.

He sighs your name in exasperation. You can tell he is trying to tamper his frustration at your lack of cooperation.

“Is it a guy?” Bradley tries again.

You swear you feel your heart stop, because you knew what you wanted to ask him, but you didn’t know how he was going to take it.

You fiddle with a string on his roommate’s comforter. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” you admit, tentatively, “But I’m nervous.”

Bradley’s eyebrows pull together as he sets his coffee aside, “C’mon, it’s just me. You can talk to me about anything.”

“It’s more of a question.” One you’re still deflecting from asking.

“Ok, well you know you can ask me anything.” His tiny dorm room feels even smaller as the two of you try to read the other’s face.

Taking a deep breath, you ask the question that’s been rattling around in your brain for weeks.

“Bradley, I was wondering if you’d be my first?”

Less than ten words. That’s all it takes to tilt Bradley’s world off its axis.

He’s loved getting to show you around UVA this week. It wasn’t where he thought he’d end up, but he hadn’t lost sight of where he was going. He was going to be a Naval Aviator one way or another. He just also got to have a normal college experience too, one he’d been excited to share with you.

Bradley had originally been invited to go stay with one of his friends at his family’s beach house, but when you called and asked about coming to visit Charlottesville, it was an easy choice for him. He’d pick you every time.

It had been even better getting to cross off some of the things on the bucket list he’d made for his Senior Year with you in tow, like the hike he’d taken you on this morning.

He loves the views from up there and thought it would be something you’d like too, but he’d never done the hike early enough to catch the sunrise before. It was actually something he was planning on going the morning of graduation as a symbolic way to end his time at UVA, but getting to do it with you was special in its own way.

And while he’d caught you lost in thought more than a few times over the last few days as he showed you around, he never in a million years would have ever expected you to ask him that.

Bradley knows all the words you just used, but they don’t make sense to him in that order.

His brain is working in overdrive trying to figure out if there is any possible way he could have misinterpreted you.

“Your first…”

You take another deep breath and tip your chin up in resolve before looking him dead in the eye, there’s so much vulnerability reflected in them, “I haven’t had sex before, Bradley. And I’m really hoping that my first time can be with you.”

Bradley wants to tell you to put your Styrofoam cup down because he’s worried the tight grip you have on it might crush it, but he feels like the wind has been knocked out of him.

He didn’t realize when his leg started bouncing until he sees you glance down at it.

Shooting to his feet and off his bed, he goes to lean against his recently decluttered desk. There’s too much restless energy coursing through him to just sit like he isn’t completely reeling.

“Shouldn’t you want to do this with someone special? Like with rose petals and all that shit?” He scrubs a hand over his face. Rose petals and all that shit? God, he sounds like such a fucking dumbass, but he’s struggling to keep up.

And if he’s being entirely honest, he’s pretty surprised to learn you’re still a virgin. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but he knows you’ve had at least one serious boyfriend since you’ve gone to college. He figured that you got asked out all the time. He saw the way that some of the guys in his buddy’s frat were looking at the pretty girl with the dimples and big smile.

The girl who just asked him to be her first.

He hates the way your shoulders have slumped forward, like you’re trying not to cave in on yourself, “So, you don’t want to?”

“I didn’t say that.” His answer takes him by surprise.

The only other sound in the room other than his pounding heart is the whir of the air circulating in his dorm.

“Would it help to make a pro con list?” you offer, less than helpfully with a little shrug.

“Jesus Christ,” Bradley mutters under his breath, looking up at the speckled ceiling trying to decode the flecks like tea leaves. “She’s cracking jokes like she didn’t ask me to make her come.”

“Technically, I didn’t say anything about that. I just asked you to be my first.”

“I’m not taking your virginity and not giving you an orgasm,” he states, and your eyes get wide. He runs his hands through his hair. “Sex makes things complicated, kid. We’ve got a good friendship.”

You sit up straighter on his roommate’s bed and bring your knees to your chest. It exposes the backs of your thighs and he has to shake the mental images of skin on skin out of his head.

There’s a look on your face that tells him you feel ridiculous even asking him, “Do you think you’re going to fall in love with me or something?”

“No,” Bradley says, honestly.

He knows you’re just trying to make a point.

The two of you have been friends for over a decade. He knows he cares about you- he always has- but he couldn’t imagine what anything other than just friendship would look like with you.

You nod in agreement, like you had been anticipating the answer before you’d even asked him the question.

“And do you think I’m going to fall in love with you?” you ask, your head tilting to the side.

He doesn’t even blink, “You can do better than me.”

And he means it.

Even if there was something more between the two of you, you’ve always been too good for him. And knowing him, he’d find a way to fuck it up. You’re the last person in the world he’d ever want to hurt. He’d let you down before, he doesn’t want to do it ever again.

You shoot him a disappointed look, like you don’t like hearing him say that about himself. And he’s oddly touched that you’re defending him against himself.

“You’d literally be doing me a favor.”

Bradley is still surprised that he hasn’t ended this conversation yet. The two of you were supposed to go to the movies, but that definitely wasn’t happening now.

“I’m not saying no,” he says, “But I need you to help me understand. Why me? Why now?”

“Bradley, I want it to be with you because there’s no one else I’ll ever feel as comfortable with as I do with you,” you explain.

He watches as you unfold yourself and climb off the bed, coming to stand in front of him. You gingerly reach out and put your hand on his forearm, like you don’t want to startle him. Not that he’d be able to move anyways since it feels like the soles of his feet are cemented to the floor.

“I keep waiting for it to not feel like such a big thing, but every time it seems like it’s going to happen, I freeze. And I know you’d take care of me, and I’m not talking about orgasms.” You stumble over the word a bit, not fully meeting his eyes as you say it. “It’s scary enough as a girl and I’m worried I’m going to be too in my head with anyone else. But I also don’t want to look back and have any regrets, and I know I wouldn’t have any with you.”

The mention of regrets makes his stomach twinge. His heart feels like it’s hammering in his chest. He doesn’t know what to say.

You are looking at him with such open sincerity. He has never been good with talking about his feelings, he’s always been the type to bottle things up, while you have always worn your heart on your sleeve. It was just another way that you were braver than him.

“I know it’s a lot,” you say, letting go of him to take a step back, like you want to give him breathing room, “So if it’s too big of an ask. Or if it’s not something you’re comfortable with-”

Bradley shakes his head cutting you off, “It’s not that at all, kid. I just haven’t done this before.” Your eyebrow scrunches together in confusion. “I mean, I have,” he corrects, “But it’s not the same. All the girls I’ve been with had already had experience. And if we were going to do this, I would want to make sure it’s as nice for you as it can be.”

“So you’d be my first and I’d be yours? Well, kind of.” You give him a little smile, it’s a shy but hopeful thing. There’s only a hint of your dimples, but it’s enough. And he feels that practical part of him that had been holding back soften at the sight of it.

He doesn’t think he’s ever said no to you, excluding the times you tried to get him to give you his beer at the house parties he took you to in high school, and that was more out of self-preservation from a healthy fear of your mom than anything else.

When you wanted to learn how to drive a stick shift? He took you to the abandoned parking lot, it didn’t matter that you didn’t have your learner’s permit yet. When you wanted to learn how to throw a punch? He was making sure you knew not to tuck your thumb under your fingers, so that you didn’t break your own thumb instead of someone’s nose.

He’s always had your back and you’ve had his. That’s how it was between the two of you.

You’ve already said it, but he needs to hear it again, “You really want to do it?”

“I really want it to be you, Bradley. I really want to do this with you. I trust you the most.”

He’s always been willing to help you with anything you’ve ever asked of him, why should this be any different? What’s a couple orgasms between friends?

“Ok,” Bradley nods. If it’s to reassure you or himself, he couldn’t say. “I’ll do it. We can do it.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, like you were fully prepared for him to let you down gently, “Really?”

You didn’t ask for his why he was agreeing, but he was going to give it to you anyway.

“I don’t think I’ve told you this, but I lost mine to Samantha Prescod after the game against Centennial that got us a spot at State that year,” he waits until he sees the recognition cross your face before continuing, “But I had also just learned about my mom’s diagnosis and I was trying to find anything I could do to not think about it.” He rubs at a spot underneath his collarbone, it never got any easier talking about his mom. “I think she assumed that I’d done it before, because we didn’t really talk about it. She was there and into it, so it just sort of happened. Actually, I’m pretty sure she only slept with me because she wanted to make her ex-boyfriend jealous, because they got back together like three days later.”

It’s probably for the best that Samantha Prescod lives on the other side of the country now because you look livid. Your eyes spark with anger and disbelief on his behalf.

“It was years ago, it’s fine, kid” he shrugs, trying to brush off your concern. “But if I had a do-over, I don’t know if I’d make the same choice again. And that’s not something I’d ever want for you.” You deserve the rose petals, but he’ll do his best for you. “So we can do it, but I have one condition.”

The relief on your face and the way the tension in your shoulder releases only solidifies his decision.

“Tell me,” you say, taking a half-step towards him, “I want you to be comfortable too.”

Bradley pushes off his desk and meets you the rest of the way, “If you even think you’re feeling uncomfortable- about any of it- I need you to tell me. And we’ll stop and figure out where to go from there. If it’s a change of position, if it’s a full stop and order pizza instead, we’ll do that.” He pauses and reaches out to tip your chin up. “I’ll do whatever you need, got it?”

You throw your arms around him, and his wrap around you just as easily. Your hair smells like the travel sized shampoo he’d picked up for you, figuring you wouldn’t want to use his 2-in-1. You murmur your thank you into his shirt followed by a fuck Samantha Prescod that makes him squeeze you just a bit tighter to him in affection.

When you step back and look at him, your lips twitch upwards, “What’s with the look, Bradshaw? Don’t tell me you’re going to lie back and think of England?”

That makes him chuckle, your joke lightening the mood in only the way that you can do. He rolls his eyes in equal parts exasperation and fondness.

“God, I haven’t been this nervous since I lost my own virginity. I was so stressed I was going to blow my load in two pumps and lose my street cred.”

You snort and send him a smirk, “Well, you must have done just fine. I overheard some glowing reviews in the girl’s bathroom on more than one occasion.”

“I maybe lasted ten trusts, but I had the good sense to eat her out after,” he admits, and then tacks on for good measure, “I’ve gotten better since then.”

“What a stud,” you tease.

This is easier, this feels like the two of you. This should be fun, it shouldn’t feel serious. He can make it good for you.

You look up at him shyly from under your lashes, “So how do we do this?”

He feels like he only just wrapped his head around the idea of it, but now he was facing the very real possibility of seeing you very naked very soon.

“You want to do it now?” Bradley blinks.

“I mean, if you’re up for it.” You scrunch your nose when you realize you’ve made a terrible double entendre. “No pun intended, I promise.”

He wipes his hands on his pants.

“You sure?” he asks again.

“I’m sure, Bradley. As long as you are too.”

He nods, “Then I guess we just…”

He’s not sure where he was going to go with that. But he’s spared from being roasted by you for making some sure to be lame birthday suit joke because you’re untying the bow on the soft lounge shorts you’d thrown on after your shower from the hike, and all the words get trapped in his throat.

You don’t look at Bradley as you slide your shorts down your legs. And you definitely don’t look at him when you pull your shirt over your head, leaving you in only a soft green mesh bra and your cotton underwear. They’re mismatched, but sex with Bradley wasn’t originally on the Spring Break To-Do List agenda for today.

In fact, you hadn’t even been sure you were going to go through with asking him until he brought up the point that he knew you had something on your mind because you apparently had no poker face.

While it felt like you had a swarm of butterflies whirling in your stomach, you also knew wholeheartedly that this was the right choice for you. Everything he had said had solidified that for you.

You weren’t sure how you were ever going to thank him for this, but you had a lifetime of friendship with Bradley to figure it out.

His room cast in the soft afternoon light, the blinds only partly closed. There are little streaks of gold that line the plaid comforter on his bed. He’d been right, Charlottesville had stayed sunny just for you.

As you climb into it and situate yourself against his pillows, you can help but notice just how much his bed smells like him. It’s not the spicy scent you associated with the High School version of him. The woodsy and warm scent embedded in the threads of his sheets suits this grown up version of him.

You feel equal parts overdressed and underdressed in your bra and underwear. You know the latter are going to come off eventually, so you make a split-second decision to just take them off yourself under his covers. The idea of Bradley helping you to pull them off later seems like it would be too intimate based on the way the thought of it makes your cheeks heat up.

It’s practical, you’re being practical, you think to yourself.

You chance a peek at him and are surprised to see that he hasn’t budged an inch. It’s almost like he is waiting for you to get completely settled before he dares to move a muscle. His eyes are trained on the pile of your clothes on the floor, he looks lost in thought.

“Bradley?”

The sound of your voice seems to kickstart him into action.

He shucks off his shirt in that kind of reckless way that seems to be ingrained in boys and then unbuttons his pants. You’re torn between feeling like you should give him privacy and wanting to watch. What you were expecting is the way he takes the time to pick his clothes up before folding them over the back of the chair at his desk.

Your mouth goes dry as you take in the sight of his body, the diffused light perfectly outlines the shape of him. His broad shoulders are rounded with the muscles he’s gained from whatever exercises the NROTC has been putting him through. Your eyes dip down to his defined chest and over the ridges of his abs. You’ve seen him in swim trunks plenty of times, but seeing the way the muscles of his thick thighs fill out the black boxer briefs he was wearing was entirely new to you.

Bradley approaches you and then pauses as he bends down to collect your pile of clothes on the floor, his hand hesitating only for a second when he reaches for your underwear. He drapes all of your things on top of his on the chair and makes his way back to you.

The gesture makes you melt a little like a soft serve ice cream cone on a summer afternoon.

You lift the corner of the cover for Bradley and he climbs in next to you. You move closer to the wall, trying to make more room for the bulk of him in his small bed, and he shifts in even closer into you until your bodies pressed tight against one another. The curves and angles of the two of you slotting together like pieces of a puzzle.

It feels like the two of you are teetering there on the edge of something. You both know exactly where it’s going, but are unsure of how to make it from Point A to Point B. Both waiting on the other person to make the first move.

He rests his warm hand on your stomach, the muscles there jumping on their own under his touch in anticipation. Your faces are close since you’re sharing his pillow. His brown eyes are searching yours, probably looking for any sign of hesitation that you don’t feel.

“Tell me how you’re feeling.” It’s not a question, but a request.

“Overwhelmed,” you admit, “But in a good way.” He runs his palm lightly up your stomach and back down, soothingly.

“Good, that’s good,” Bradley says, clearing his throat, “You’re supposed to feel a little ‘overwhelmed, but in a good way.’” You feel your lips pull up at his gentle teasing.

He smiles softly at you. His face has always been so familiar to you. The pink from his scars have finally faded, but you wonder when his eyes start crinkling around the corners.

You let go of the comforter to run a finger down the top of his nose, “I don’t know how this has stayed so straight.” He’d been in more than a couple fights in his teen years, including one that had sent him through a sliding glass door.

“Probably the combination of a little luck and the fact that none of those guys could throw a punch,” Bradley smirks. He shifts on his side, propping himself up on an elbow looking down at you, still running his hand along your stomach. “What have you done so far?”

His fingertips circle your bellybutton and your stomach swoops like it’s on the swing carousel ride at the fair.

“Some over the clothes stuff…” you stammer. You’re having trouble focusing because all your attention is on his big hand and how it feels against your oversensitive skin. “And I have a vibrator, but ah…”

You’re so keenly aware of his hand. With every lazy circle he makes, he has you wondering if this is going to be the one where he finally moves his hand lower. That part of you in flutters in expectation because you know it’s coming.

You let out a shaky huff when his fingers trails back up your stomach.

“What is it?” Bradley’s hand stops moving. “What are you thinking?”

“Honestly?” you say, trying not to squirm, “I’m getting really horny and you keep teasing me.”

He presses his lips together like he’s trying not to laugh at your overshare, and there’s amusement in his eyes.

“You know, some people call it foreplay,” he drawls. You’d roll your eyes but his fingertips are by your bellybutton again and you want him to keep going. “You ready for more?” You nod a few times because if he doesn’t touch you soon you might just crawl out of your skin. “Ok, gonna stop ‘teasing’ you now.”

This time his hand doesn’t stop at your bellybutton, it keeps moving down, down.

You stutter over a breath when Bradley’s fingers touch your clit. You feel yourself melt a little further into his mattress. He’s making easy circles, letting you get used to someone’s fingers other than your own on the most sensitive part of you. Your hands are clutching tightly to his comforter, unsure of what else to do with them.

“Spread your legs a little wider for me,” he murmurs. You feel your face heat up. He’d just given you a direction, but it sounds almost indecent coming out of his mouth.

You shift, moving your legs apart further for him, until he secures your left between his own, opening you up even more. You know you’re wet and now he does too. Bradley’s fingers slide easily over you as he increases the pressure on your clit. You can feel the intensity of his gaze on you watching for your reaction as he figures out what you like the most.

It doesn’t take him long to learn your body. You don’t know whether to be impressed with him or embarrassed with yourself at how quickly he’s worked you up.

Your breathing feels so loud in your ears in the quiet room, every breath and sigh is amplified. There’s a certain thrill in not knowing how he’s going to touch you next, your own fingers pale in comparison now.

His warm breath coasts down the side of your neck causing you to shiver at the sensation. It makes goosebumps break out along your arms and your nipples pull taut.

He notices. Of course he notices.

“Are you cold?” His voice is low in your ear.

“No, I-” Oh god, you’re right there. “B-bradley, I’m-” You’ve made yourself orgasm plenty of times, but you’ve never shared that part of yourself with anyone else before. No one knows what you sound like or what you look like when you come. But now, Bradley was going to have the piece of you too. A whine escapes you without your permission.

“It’s ok, kid, I’ve got you.”

You’re seeking and searching, but it’s Bradley’s fingers that have the answer.

And you come with your stomach twitching and hips jerking as he murmurs praise in your ear.

His fingers slow down, featherlight on your clit, but your heart is still racing when he rasps, “There’s one, you up for another?”

Bradley loves that moment during sex when he hears that first gasp or moan. He loves learning what sounds of satisfaction he can pull from his partner. He loves knowing he earned it. But he never in his life could have ever anticipated hearing those sounds from you.

In his bed. Because of him.

He didn’t expect the lick of heat that curled up his spine at the shape of your legs and the curve of your ass as you were stepping out of your shorts. He’d never seen anything so strangely endearing as it was watching you shimmy your underwear off under the shield of his covers.

Every hitch in your breath made his blood run hotter in his veins. He was trying to control his cock, but he’d started getting hard the second you’d pulled your shirt off. Your bra was some kind of sheer thing that left nothing to the imagination, and while he wasn’t trying to check you out- because that’s not how it was between the two of you- he couldn’t help the way his eyes flickered down.

You’re slippery, wet, and warm. And he knows he can make you come again.

“Do you want me to use my fingers now?”

You crack an eye open at him, it’s the first time you’ve opened your eyes since he first touched you. Your eyes are bright in that way that only comes with an orgasm. “I thought you already were.”

“Such a smartass,” he grins.

Bradley changes the unhurried circles he’d been making on your clit to the upstroke that made your hips jerk up into his hand the first time he’d tried it. The little noises you’re making have him fighting the urge to grind himself against you for some relief of his own. He’s still got your knee tucked between his own; where there had been a hint of polite space between your bodies, the way you’re writhing now has him pressed up against your hip.

You gasp, breathily, “Oh, you’re hard.” The disbelief is evident in your voice, but it’s the look in your eyes that he doesn’t know what to make of, something like surprise.

He’s been trying to be a gentleman, this is about you and not him. There might not be anything romantic happening between the two of you, but this was hot and he was more than a little turned on. And he knows you are too because he can feel how wet you are under his fingers.

“’Course I am,” Bradley says, nudging his nose against your temple, “I’ve got a pretty girl in my bed half naked.” He didn’t want you to feel like you were in this on your own, so he lightly rocks against you. He wants you to feel him, he wants you to know he is into this too. “Are you ready more?”

“I’m ready, I want more,” you confirm, wrapping your hand around his bicep.

Your breath hitches as he teases you with just the tip of his finger.

He’s been told before he has big hands and thick fingers, he’s always taken it as a compliment in the past, but now he’s scanning your face for any trace of discomfort as he sinks one into you.

Your eyebrows twitch then smooth out and your mouth drops open as he starts pumping his finger into you in a smooth rhythm.

“That feels nice,” you sigh, airily.

He knows you like it when your hips tip up just a fraction. His comforter is bunched around your waist and your nipples are peaked against the see-through fabric of your bra. He gets his thumb on your clit and you whimper as you tentatively roll your hips against his fingers.

Bradley hums his approval, “Atta girl. There you go, find what feels good for you.” His voice sounds low even to his own ears, a throaty rumble. He feels you clench around his fingers and it sets his pulse racing. It’s a piece of information he tucks away for himself.

He’s gentle on your clit, but now that he knows you’re into it he’s setting a more purposeful pace with his fingers.

You’ve got your bottom lip pinned between your teeth, like you’re trying to swallow down your sounds. He didn’t realize how much he liked hearing these new sounds from you until you started trying to muffle them. On the next slide of his finger into you, he knows exactly what he’s looking for.

You suck in a sharp breath of surprise when he finds it.

“Is that the right spot, kid?” He sounds so smug. You curse and your hand clutches at his shoulder. “You want to try a second finger?” he murmurs into your ear.

“Yes,” you rock into his hand, “Yes, please.”

“Whatever you want, Miss Manners.” His chest feels like he’s taken a shot of Fireball. “You’re so polite when you’re trying to get your way.”

“I’m always polite,” you challenged weakly, pressing your head further into his pillow.

“Mhm,” he indulges, fondly, “You’re the sweetest girl I know.”

And then he fills you with two fingers.

“Jesus, Bradley,” you gasp, offering more of yourself to him.

Your nails dig into the muscle of his shoulder as he lets your whimpers and whines guide his hands.

The two of you have your eyes fixed on the way the tendons of the visible part of his forearm are flexing before it disappears under the covers as he works you.

Bradley curls his fingers into that spongy part of you and your hand flies to his wrist, gripping him tight. It makes him pause, worried that he might have pushed you too far too fast.

“No, no. D-don’t stop,” you plead, desperately, “I’m so close. Keep going, please.” You squeeze his wrist encouragingly.

“Sorry, sorry,” he soothes. He focuses his efforts on that spot again now that he knows you weren’t wanting him to slow down, but rather trying to hold him in place. His fingers inside of you and his thumb on your clit working in tandem to get you there again.

“I just- yes. Like that. Oh fuck. Keep doing that. Oh my god. Please, Bradley.”

He’s heard you say his name a lot of different ways, but never like this.

Your back arches and you twist yourself towards him, burying your face against him and keening into the hollow of his throat as you come around his fingers.

You jerk and writhe into his hand, your knee slips free of his and your thighs clamp together around him. Bradley rolls off the arm he’d been leaning on and brings it to cradle the back of your head, pulling you closer and holding you to him as he steadily works you through it until you’re loose-limbed in his arms.

He waits until your rapid pants have evened out before he slips his fingers from you. The displeased sound that you make makes the corners of his mouth twitch. He should have known you’d be bossy. He rubs gentle circles into the divots at the base of your neck as you come down.

Bradley can feel your lips graze the side of his neck when you finally speak, “So, um, let me know if you need a letter of recommendation or anything. I’d be happy to pass one along to your next partner.” You languidly prop yourself up on his chest and he notes with pride that you look a little flushed. “But, seriously, I get it now.”

He huffs a laugh as he toys with the end of your hair, “I’m glad it lived up to the hype. Well, at least that part of it.”

You press your lips together like you’re deciding something, tracing idle shapes on his stomach, and he can’t decide if he thinks you’re doing it without realizing it or if you’re the one doing the teasing this time. Your eyes flick down to his visibly hard cock and he feels his face heat up, “Can I?”

“Do you want to?” Bradley wants this experience to be everything you need and want it to be, but something about the tables turning here and the idea of you being the one to touch him like that makes his heart pound.

“I want to make you feel good too,” you softly tell him, resting your chin on your shoulder. The tender way you’re looking at him makes his teeth ache.

“Ok, but only for a little bit,” he agrees. Bradley knows he’s walking a tightrope with this, he’s aching and more than ready to be touched, but he doesn’t want to come all over your hand.

He plants his feet into his mattress and lifts his hips enough to pull off his boxer briefs, sighing in relief as his cock bobs free.

“That can’t be average,” you mutter under your breath.

He doesn’t know if you meant to have said it out loud but he smirks all the same, “I’ve never been average a day in my life, kid, Grade A student here.”

A groan slips out of him as your tentative fingers grasp his cock. There’s a lack of finesse in the way you touch him, your hand isn’t nearly as well-practiced as his own. He wraps his hand over yours, guiding your strokes as he shows you just what he likes.

“You can grip it a little firmer,” he coaches. You nod studiously, like you’re going to be tested on it later. Together the two of you work him from root to tip.

Bradley had never given much thought to his size until now. He knew he was big, but seeing that your thumb couldn’t reach the tips of your fingers when your hand was curved around him was an ego boost he didn’t know he needed.

You get more confident with every glide up and down the length of him. Your tricky thumb sweeps over the tip, collecting what precum had gathered there, and it makes your hand slide easier over him. When he accidentally thrusts into your hand, you grin and there are those dimples again.

“Ok, ok,” he blows out a shaky breath, stilling your hand with his. “We gotta stop or I’m going to come. And I’m not about to be a one pump chump.”

“It sounded like you’re more of a ten pump chump, if I remember correctly,” you tease, looking all too pleased with yourself. “Don’t worry, Bradshaw, your street cred is safe with me.”

He shakes his head in amused disbelief, “You’re such a goddamn menace. I knew I shouldn’t have told you that part.” He surprises the both of you when he wraps an arm around you and rolls to pin you under him.

And it’s like all the air is sucked out of the room because your thighs are cradling his hips and his cock is resting heavy on your stomach.

Neither one of you dare to move. He’d give anything to know what you’re thinking right now, he feels out of his depth as he watches you watching him.

His tongue feels thick in his mouth, “Are you on-”

You nod before he even finishes the question.

“Do you have-”

He nods before you finish yours.

“What did you promise me?” he prompts, squeezing the dip of your waist.

You hold up your pinky to him, “I’ll tell you.” He wraps his own crooked one around yours and gives it a shake.

Bradley doesn’t know what comes over him, but he drops a kiss to your shoulder as he reaches over you into the drawer of his nightstand to fish out what he needs. He’s thankful when you don’t comment on it because he wouldn’t even know how to explain it.

He leans back on his knees and rolls the condom on with practiced ease, then flicks open the cap to the bottle of lube he’s also grabbed and drizzles it over his cock.

“Am I not…” you trail off. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you sound this shy with him before.

“You’re plenty wet,” he assures you, pumping himself- once, twice- just enough to coat himself, “But this’ll be good too. I think you’ll like it.”

Bradley settles back over you, one arm braced by your head and the other on your hip, as your hands come up to rest lightly on either side of his ribcage. He rocks against you to demonstrate; the head of his cock nudges your clit with each silky pass. You exhale heavily at the sensation as he eases you into the motion of it, as he shows you what it’s like with another person.

You’re holding him close, and in just a moment the two of you will be the closest two people can be.

He makes only enough room to reach down between your bodies, only looks away from your face long enough to line himself up with you. There is such trust in your eyes as you gaze up at him, it’s not something Bradley takes for granted.

You nod, your fingers stroking his sides.

God, does he want this to be good for you.

He takes a breath.

And then he’s shifting forward and pressing in.

Bradley thrusts into you with all the careful gentleness you’d expect from him.

His thumb skimming along your forehead as he pushes in, in, in.

When he found that spot inside of you with his fingers, you thought you were going to fly away from the intensity of it, but then he’d pulled you into the safety of his arms and you felt like you could fall apart because he’d be keeping the pieces of you together.

He’s been so good to you. He is so good to you. He’s the best person you know.

The more of him he gives you, the less you feel like you can catch your breath.

You feel hot, hot all over. And much fuller than you’ve ever been.

Some sound must make its way out of you because Bradley offers you a low soothing noise before you feel his lightly chapped lips against your temple.

There’s something about this that reminds you of the time he tried to teach you how to skateboard. Always waited until you told him you were ready, until you found your balance. He’d held your hand as you cautiously rolled along the sidewalk, you were less worried about falling with him by your side. Only this time, his hand is on your waist and the only movements are his hips against yours as he rocks into you.

Little by little. Inch by inch.

You clutch at his biceps at the slight stinging sensation and you feel him hesitate.

“It’s just a lot,” you whisper. His fingers flex on your waist.

“You’re doing so good, just a bit more,” Bradley murmurs, encouragingly.

There’s pressure, there’s a give, and then there’s relief when his hips finally, finally meet yours.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath.

Your eyes had flickered shut somewhere along the way. You open them to see that Bradley’s face and chest are flushed pink, the muscle of his jaw flexing. The furrow between his eyebrows is so deep that you release your grip on him to smooth out the lines with an unsteady fingertip.

He reads the question in your eyes.

“You’re just really tight,” he grits out, voice strained.

You assumed that was a good thing, but he’s holding himself so tense above you that now you’re not sure. “Do I-,” you fumble over the words, “Does this feel good for you?”

He huffs an incredulous laugh, and brushes back some hair from off your face, “You feel really fucking good, sweet-”

Your whimper cuts him off when he pulls out a fraction and then pushes back in.

His brown eyes take you in as he does it again, more this time. Pulling out just a bit- just enough- and then filling you again. The discomfort fading more with each thrust as he guides his hips to yours until yours are tilting up to meet his seeking more.

It’s a conversation between your bodies, the give and the take of it all as Bradley introduces you to this new unspoken language. You feel yourself flutter around his cock, stretched wider than you’ve ever been.

You feel that heat spreading underneath your skin again as he surely and steadily pumps into you. It feels like your nerves are on fire. You didn’t expect to even come once and you’re well on your way to a third.

He reaches down and hooks your leg over his hip. His hand slides up along the outside of your thigh and under your ass, tilting your hips up towards his even more. He’s so much deeper like this. Your hands slide into his hair, tugging at his curls.

“Bradley, I-I think… I feel-”

“You’re gonna come,” he rasps, nodding at you. Encouraging, coaxing.

He grinds his pelvis against your clit with every deliciously slow roll into you.

Your mouth drops open at the feel of it, it’s better than anything you’ve ever imagined. You don’t think your faces have ever been closer than they are now. Bradley is breathing your air, and you’re breathing his. Bradley’s pupils are blown wide, his heavy-lidded eyes are locked on yours. You didn’t know there could be so many shades of brown. His curls are a mess and it’s all because of you. He licks his lips and your breath catches in your throat when his eyes dart down to your parted mouth.

His next thrust into you hits that spot inside of you just so right that it has you gasping.

It’s so good, it’s too good, it’s overwhelming.

You wrap your arms around his neck clinging to him, your face buried against him. Bradley drops his head to your shoulder, you feel his lips brush against your clavicle. Your head moves away on instinct, making more room for him if he wants to do it again.

You get lost in the feeling of his cock hitting you in all the places you’ve heard about and read about, but have never felt for yourself until now. He’s still got your ass gripped in his hand, whereas your hands can’t stay in one spot. They’re tangled in his hair, running over his shoulders and down his abs, gliding over his back aided by the sheen of sweat he’s worked up.

You’re not trying to hold yourself back, but it feels like you’re standing on the tallest diving board at the pool, your toes curled around the edge, but still too nervous about the drop to jump.

“C’mon, kid. You’re right there,” he breathes hard, “I need you to come for me. Just one more.”

He gets his fingers back on your clit and it’s the end of you. Your back is arching so much you think you might snap. Your toes curl so tights they may never unfurl. The force your orgasm overtakes you, demanding everything you have up to offer and then some.

You hear Bradley’s moan as you pulse around his cock, trembling under him as the waves of pleasure wash over you. His hips stutter against yours, finally losing that steady rhythm he’d set, you pull him tighter to you and it’s not long until he comes too.

It’s all white noise. All you can feel is your heartbeat pounding, until little pieces of the world come back into focus.

The hum of the fan.

The beam of warm afternoon light through the blinds.

The smell of the now cold coffee on his nightstand.

In the after, you’re all too aware of every place your body is touching Bradley’s.

He’d somehow managed to roll on his back and had taken you with him. He was literally just inside of you, but yet it feels like your leg draped over his thigh is somehow more intimate. A prickly self-conscious feeling settles over you. Unsure of what the rules were for friends who just had sex, you attempt to peel yourself off of him, but the heavy arm over your waist keeps you in place.

“Come back here, kid,” Bradley mumbles, his eyes still closed, “I need to cuddle after I come, so I’m gonna need you to indulge me here for a moment.” He strokes a soothing hand down your back. And while he says it’s for him, you know he’s still trying to take care of you.

He hums when you lay back down. You set a hand on his chest. He reaches for it with his free one and threads your fingers together. It makes you melt further into him.

You feel a little different. But mostly, you feel like a weight you didn’t know you’d been carrying had been lifted off of you.

Your first time was everything you hoped it would be. You were safe and cared for, and you already knew, you’d never have any regrets about it. And it was all because of him.

“Thank you, Bradley,” you say, softly.

“Anything for you, kid.”

Your early morning catches up with you as you lay there, warm and secure. Your eyelids get heavier with each pass of Bradley’s hand along your spine. And you drift off to the sound of his heartbeat under your ear.

You’re still you. And Bradley is still Bradley.

It was just… something between friends.

A few hours later the two of you are still in his bed.

Only now you’re clothed and swapping the cartons of Chinese food that he’d ordered while you’d napped against his chest, and fighting over the fortune cookies watching some reruns of old sitcoms. You couldn’t hear their laugh tracks over your own.

The last couple of days you had at UVA fly by just as quickly.

You don’t know how, but the two of you managed to cross of all the things on his Spring Break To-Do List. And before you knew it you were back at the airport.

Bradley had insisted on walking you in, wanting to see you off.

Neither one of you has ever been good with goodbyes. So you don’t give him one, instead you reach for your bag and tell him, “Ok, see you in June.”

Bradley doesn’t let go, clearly confused, “What the hell are you talking about?”

You grin because it feels like a checkmate.

“You didn’t think you’d be getting that diploma all by yourself, did you?”

He looks thunderstruck.

You and your mom already had the plane tickets and hotel room booked. Your stepdad wouldn’t be able to come, but he was planning on sending your mom with one of the cakes from his family’s bakery. You’d been tasked with finding out what flavor, carrot cake or peanut butter- Bradley’s two favorites- but you could iron out the details with him later.

You’d had a busy week, plus it was more fun this way.

Bradley tugs you into his arms, yours wrap around him just as easily as they always have.

“June?” he asks into the crown of your head.

“June,” you promise.

And when he lets you go- for real this time- it’s with a smile that takes up his whole face.

He doesn’t say goodbye either, “Be good, kid. See you in June.”

𝐍𝐎𝐖

You avoid Rooster for the rest of the night.

And Jake too, for that matter. Bless Javy for finding ways to distract him because you could tell than man was chomping at the bit for more details. But you’d already given him more than enough.

You could have lied, you probably should have lied. It might have been easier than feeling like you’d hung up part of yourself on the drying line for everyone to see. But in that moment, the thought of lying and saying anyone else’s name other than Rooster’s had made your stomach turn.

Because it was the truth, he was your first, but he was also your best.

When you come out of the bathroom, there’s no missing Rooster. He’s leaning against the wall by the entrance. It takes him a moment to notice you since he looks lost in thought, but when he does you feel pinned to the wall by the intense look in his eyes.

He stands to his full height as you approach, you know he wants to talk about it.

You shake your head at him, “We don’t need to do this.”

“No, kid, we really do.” He takes you by the arm and leads you to a quieter spot away from everyone else.

“It was just a game,” you start before he can, “And now I know more about everyone’s sex life than I ever wanted to.” He crosses his arms over his chest at your attempt at deflection. “Look, I’m really sorry if that was something you wanted to keep a secret or just between us. I should have asked you first if that was ok to share.”

“I don’t care about that.” Rooster waves you off and takes a step closer to you, his eyes searching yours. “All this time and I’m the best you’ve ever had?”

“Are we really doing this? Here and now?”

You peer around him to look and see if anyone is watching the two of you, it feels like a showdown. But all the Daggers are occupied, probably on purpose. You’ve never seen Mickey with such a serious look of concentration on his face.

“Here and now,” he confirms.

You feel flustered, “Rooster, it’s been 12 years and we haven’t talked about it once-”

“Bradley,” he cuts you off. He takes another step towards you, so you’re toe to toe with him. “I’ve always been Bradley to you.”

The tension that had crept up in your shoulders releases a bit.

“Bradley,” you say, softly. “Listen, I’ve had a lot of good sex since then. Great sex even.” He presses his lips together and nods. “And with other men, if I felt like they weren’t putting in their best effort I’d kick them out because the bar was set very high early on.”

You see him fight back a smirk.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, with pride.

Your breath gets caught in your throat, you know he hears it because his eyes take on a richer shade of brown. You both feel the shift, tension churning between the two of you.

Taking a deep breath, you continue, “But I was telling the truth when I said you were my best. Probably because of the way you made sure I knew that you cared. I don’t know how to describe it. It was just different with you.”

You feel his finger graze the back of your hand.

The sounds of the Hard Deck fade into the background as you stare at each other. Entire conversations are being had as you look into his eyes and he looks into yours. Words and sentences spoken with glances.

Just friends don’t look at each other like this.

“It’s never been like this,” you whisper, “We’ve never been like this before.” You gesture at how close he is to you.

How he’s almost got you backed up against a wall.

How he’s looking at you like you’re his.

“I know.”

He says your name and your heart somersaults in your chest.

“I want to see your tattoo. I keep finding myself looking for it when we’re all at the beach. And then I get annoyed, knowing that people have seen it and I haven’t.”

“My tattoo? Bradley, what-”

“I want to see your tattoo,” he repeats like it’s a fact. “And I want to punch Seresin in his smug face every time he flirts with you.”

You roll your eyes, “Jake doesn’t flirt with me, not really. He just likes riling you up.”

“What if I said I wanted to try this as more than friends.” Bradley settles a large hand on your hip. “What if I said that since you’ve moved here I’ve had a hard time keeping my head on straight.”

“Bradley.” His name falls out of your mouth so easily now that it can.

“I want to take you home with me. I want to kiss you. I want to make you come. I need to know if you sound the same in my bed. And then I want to take you out for breakfast and buy whatever fancy coffee you want and as many pancakes as you can eat.”

You’ve been told that you wear your heart on your sleeve, but he has always worn his on his face. There’s no mistaking the open want on his face.

“Bradley, it’ll be different this time.” For so many reasons.

Because it’s not a favor being asked. It’s not some new experience being tried with the person you trust the most, with everything. You’d be on equal footing. It wouldn’t be a friend helping a friend, the two of you would be crossing that line between friends and more because you want each other in that way.

“I want it to be different, sweet girl,” he says, cupping your face in his familiar hand, “I’m ready for it to be different, if you are.”

He looks from your eyes down to your parted lips.

“We didn’t do that last time,” you whisper. Feeling brave, you reach out and run your fingers along the buttons of his shirt.

“No, we didn’t,” he agrees. His eyes are trained on his thumb as he skims it under your lip. “And that’s a damn shame.”

Bradley’s face is all you can see. Warm eyes, a still-straight nose, and a soft smile that is for you and you alone.

He dips down and your eyes flutter closed, your head tipping up on its own in anticipation.

His lips brush your cheek. It’s not enough.

You tug on his collar, but he chuckles and kisses your cheek again, lingering longer this time.

“I’m not kissing you for the first time around the corner from a bathroom,” he rasps.

You open your eyes and see the amusement in his. He always did like teasing you.

“Oh, where do you plan on doing it then?”

“Outside your front door, like a gentleman,” he says, like it’s obvious.

You can’t help but grin because Bradley Bradshaw can’t wait the extra 10 minutes it would take to drive to his place instead of yours. He wants that kiss just as badly as you do. You watch as a matching smile to yours blooms across his face.

It feels normal to slide your fingers between his much larger ones. It feels right as you lead the way out of the Hard Deck with him only a step behind you.

As it turns out, he only makes it as far as the Bronco before he’s spinning you back towards him and pressing you against it. His hands are on your hips and yours are wrapped around his neck as he kisses you for the very first time.

Bradley kisses you like a man who knows what he wants. And what he wants is you.

It’s not tentative in the way that first kisses usually are.

He kisses you like he knows you.

Because he does.

Later, when he closes the door to the Bronco for you, it feels like the end of one thing. But as he slips his fingers into yours when he backs out of the parking space it feels like the beginning of something new.

That night tangled in Bradley’s sheets- he’d kissed you at every light which made those extra 10 minutes it took to get to his home worth it- he makes your back arch and your toes curl as he makes you come with his fingers and mouth and tongue and cock. His lips dropping kiss after kiss on every part of you that he can reach. Because he can, because you want him and he wants you.

The way he touches you tells you that he remembers it all.

He was you first, but what you wouldn’t learn until later, is that he would also be your last.

And he’d be the only man to ever have your entire heart.

Happy Birthday Jordan! An AU just for you! 💖 I adore you and I hope this year is the best one yet!

A big thank you to @callsignspark and @ofstoriesandstardust for their help and beta reading and their woogirling! I appreciate you two so much!

Author's Note: this was a "what-if" AU set in the 'Like I Can' universe! If you want to read about what really happens you can read it here!

You can read more of my stories here!

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#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw smut #top gun imagine #topgun fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader

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m0nsterqzzz · 1 day

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word count: 3k

- Liar Liar -

Wanda Maximoff x reader

summary - in which, you stumble upon the most beautiful woman you've ever seen while in search of a job you can put your piano skills to use at. The only thing? She's a teacher who thinks you're in search of lessons. All's far in love and music right?

a/n - wanda + music = me fucking dying. lol. haven't updated in a while that's my bad. i love you guuuuyyyyyysss.

⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ

You hadn’t meant to lie.

You’d went into the slightly shady neighborhood in search of a job, preferably one that let you play piano- your passion- and still had a decent amount of pay so you would be able to afford that apartment you got recently.

It’s a small town though, and no one really has any need for music as they own record players and other forms of listening devices. No one cares about classical music anymore.

Maybe you should have listened when your father told you music would never be a good career.

So you gave up hope, walking downtown to the store to get a simple and cheap frozen dinner that you could watch while sulking in front of the tv. Being an adult is hard, and you often find yourself wondering what you would do if you had just been given one chance to go back in time and not rush growing up.

You heard the familiar and peaceful sound of piano, and just like anytime you hear it, you freeze in the middle of the sidewalk to simply listen. There’s a small store next to all the tall and beautiful ones, one that probably gets lost a lot in the sight of all the other, more important buildings. A young woman is sitting inside near the front, visible through the big glass window that you silently watch her through. Her skilled fingers dance across the keyboard, creating an aura in the world that has you stuck in a magical trance.

The song slowly goes quieter, and you watch her take a deep sigh before turning her head to look out the window- as if knowing you were there. You panic, blushing in embarrassment before you pretend to read the signs taped to the door.

A bright smile graces your face as you actually begin to read them. A few of them just talk about upcoming concerts in town square, but one big one smack dab in the middle catches your eye;

Hiring!

Tutors, managers, cleaners

$16.45 a hour

It’s not a lot of money, but it’s enough and you’d get to do what you love while seemingly getting to hang out with a pretty girl. It’s a win, win, win. For you.

“Sorry. That sign is old. My friend was supposed to take it down.” Someone quietly speaks beside you, and you almost jump in fear when you see that the woman you had previously been looking at through the window is now standing right next to you, staring blankly before she tears the sign off the door. She’s even more pretty in person, from her long auburn hair to her piercing greens eyes that most people would fear as she stares at you silently though all you feel is nervous and giddy.

“Right…well….do you still have any openings?” You ask, placing your hands in your pockets as you rock back and forth on your heels. She watches with curious eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

She answers quietly, a stark contrast to your happy mood, though she doesn't exactly seem upset. More like calm. “Yes. Lessons are 10 dollars for an hour and a half.”

You frown in confusion. Does she think you’re looking for a teacher? You go to tell her you’re looking to be a teacher, but your eyes fall on the little picture on the door that has a photo of her next to a few others of other people. Under her’s is the title; “owner and teacher”

“Would you be my teacher?” The words fall out of your mouth before you can stop them, so you purse your lips to stop yourself from saying anything else.

The girl’s lips turn upwards in the beginning of a smile. “Yes. I would.”

You practically grin, and it’s like you don’t even remember the several years of college you went through to get a career in music as you say, “Then I’d like to take lessons from you. I like piano. I want to learn how to play.”

She does smile now, nodding as she opens the door which makes the bell above it ring. “That’s great. Follow me and we’ll get you signed up.” You do follow her inside, taking in the beauty of the hidden shop. There are pianos and other instruments everywhere, ones that look worn out yet still pretty. Open songbook’s litter every open space and she gets to the front desk before digging through a pile of them for the forms you need to sign.

After signing way to many forms and paying a small fee, you shake her hand with the one that isn’t cramping.

“Thank you for choosing Scarlett's Melodies. I’m Wanda Maximoff. I own the shop and tutor most of the students.” You smile, squeezing her hand before you awkwardly place your hand in your pocket and introduce yourself.

Wanda. A pretty name for a pretty girl.

You obviously don’t say that though. Anxiety exists yall.

Instead you leave with a new found pep in your step.

That is until you remember that you just spent a ton of money and don’t even have a job. Wow. What the fuck is Wanda Maximoff doing to you?

— – — – — – — – —

After that, you have to get a job, so you get one at the nice restaurant in town that your friend works at. You spend most of your day serving customers, taking orders, and cleaning, and the only reason you continue to do it is that every other day, you just have to think about the fact that once work is over, you get to go see the beautiful piano teacher.

It’s not hard to play down your skill, but it is a little bit funny every time you slip up and tell her you already know something and then have to make the excuse that you’re doing some studying on your own time as well.

Wanda has a sweet personality, though she is a bit cold and standoffish sometimes. You learn a lot about her over the past few weeks though, like her late brother Pietro, her friends Natasha and Clint who are also workers at the store, and how she came to love music so much as to start up her own store for it.

“You’re late.” She says when you run in six minutes past the time you’re supposed to be there, but her tone is light and teasing as she scans through some notes on her sheet music. She lets you take them home sometimes to study them, but you mostly just study her pretty handwriting and the little doodles she leaves for you to find.

You chuckle, taking off your coat and hanging it up next to her leather jacket near the door. The place is cozy and if not for the workers constantly running in and out, you’d say it feels more like a home than a store.

“Sorry. I was at work.” She nods as you speak, handing you a book she made more notes in before pointing over to a piano set up against a wall. It’s nicely toned and made of a beautiful wood, and once she learned it was probably your favorite, she “teaches” you at that one every single lesson.

You sit on the bench, trying your hardest not to blush when she rubs her hand on your back before sitting closely next to you. It’s one of your favorite parts of the lessons- when she sits close enough that you can smell her perfume. Vanilla with a hint of sage, and it’s quickly become one of your favorite scents.

“We’re gonna work on something a bit harder today alright? I think you can do it, but the notes are in a slightly weird pattern and may be hard to remember.” Wanda says, flipping to a page in the book before setting it up on the music rack.

It’s one of your favorites and quite easy to play after years of practicing, but you don’t tell her that.

By the end of the almost two hour lesson, you have pretended to learn the first part of the song, purposefully messing it up every once in a while so you don’t expose yourself.

You’re starting to feel a bit guilty about the lying, but then she smiles proudly and showers you in compliments and you forget all about it.

Wanda walks you to the door, leaning on the wall as you put on your coat and grab your stuff. You’re tired, but that feeling doesn’t even begin to compare to the one that comes when she holds your hand and smiles towards you.

“There’s a small event in town this weekend.” She starts, pointing towards the sign up on her big bulletin board. “A few people playing pieces, some nice food. I think you should join. You’re one of my most advanced students.”

You grin, hesitantly nodding. “I’d love to. That sounds like so much fun.”

The redhead nods as well, smiling slightly as she writes your name down on the sign up sheet. You’ll play after a few other students and teachers, and you must tell her what piece you want to play by tomorrow so you can spend the next few lessons practicing it.

With that you say your goodbyes, lingering in a hug with the Maximoff girl before you finally leave, walking home with a love sick smile on your face. Little did you know, the same one is gracing Wanda’s face as she closes up the shop and makes her way home.

— – — – — – — – —

When the day of the concert comes around, you’re nervous.

You don’t know why. You could play this piece in your sleep, but for some reason, the same nerves that were with you during your first performance as a child are now fluttering around in your stomach as you sit on a piano bench in the town square.

Wanda is talking with some of the other students, and you try and distract yourself by looking at her with adoration in your eyes, but it all comes back at a higher level when she notices you and winks your way.

She’s so pretty, and you fight the urge to slam your head on the instrument as she finishes up her conversation and begins walking towards you.

“Hey hon. How you feeling?” Wanda stands behind you, rubbing your shoulders reassuringly as she reads over the notes on your sheet music. You shrug, blushing brightly at her touch as you pretend to be focusing on smoothing out your shirt of non-existent wrinkles.

“I’m okay. Kinda nervous.” You say, and the blush only deepens when she hums in understanding and places a kiss on the top of your head.

“Don’t be. You’re going to be great.” Her words make you grin, and you lean your head back to rest on her stomach as she gently runs her fingers through your hair. Someone calls her name, so she gently caresses your face before patting your back and walking away.

Oh the things that Wanda Maximoff does to you.

While you’re waiting for your turn on stage, you get bored, so you sit back on the bench and begin to quickly play through one of the hardest songs you know. It took forever to learn and you still mess up every once and a while, but it still would sound beautiful to anyone and by the end of it, you do hear someone slightly chuckle in shock.

It isn't a happy laugh or happy shock though. That much you can tell.

“I didn’t teach you that.” A slightly bitter tone speaks, and you slowly turn around to come face to face with Wanda, fists clenched at her sides and a curious but slightly annoyed expression on her face.

You want to continue to lie, to tell her you’ve been working hard and her lessons are paying off, but no one who’s only been playing for a few months would be able to play that and she obviously knows the truth now.

“You wasted my time.” She says coldly, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s no longer the bubbly girl you’ve come to have the pleasure of knowing, instead going back to the closed off woman you first met. It’s all your fault.

You look down in shame, letting the bouquet rest by your side. “I’m so sorry Wanda.”

Wanda scoffs, glaring at you before she storms out of the room. She’s pissed, but a warm feeling settles in her chest at the knowledge you went through all of this to hang out with her, even with the thought that you don’t have a chance with her. You still wasted her time though, and you lied to her for weeks, almost months. How can she trust that you truly aren’t just some psycho?

You stay in the middle of town square, tears forming in your eyes as more and more people gather to listen to the other pianists. You’re falling in love with Wanda Maximoff, and up until this point, it’s only ever been clear and sunny skies. What are you supposed to do now that your first cloud has appeared?

— – — – — – — – —

After that, you stop going to your lessons.

Wanda finds herself missing you every time 6 o’clock comes around and you don’t come sprinting into the shop with your work uniform still on, rambling about something a stupid customer did like you’ve known Wanda forever. It feels like that, that’s for sure.

You spend every day in an endless cycle. Get up, go to work, walk the long way so you don’t risk running into Wanda outside of her music store, work a nine hour shift, and return to your quiet apartment where you sit in silence and mourn for someone that still lives.

Maybe you should adopt a dog.

One especially rough day, you wake up late, your alarm clock having turned off during a storm last night and reset itself all while you were asleep. Because of this, you wake up with five minutes to get ready and even less time to sprint to work, so you can’t take the long way like you usually do.

It’s lightly sprinkinly outside, so you don’t bother taking a jacket in the midst of chaos. That was clearly the wrong decision, as only a few minutes into your walk there, it starts absolutely pouring, and just like that, your uniform is soaked and you’re shivering. You don’t have any time to go back though, so you fight on, staying right next to the buildings for a bit of protection and you don’t even notice the person carefully watching you as you fastly walk down the sidewalk.

“Hey!” Someone calls out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a familiar building. It’s calm and quiet music is playing somewhere, but all you can focus on is that Wanda is standing in front of you, holding out a dry towel for you to grab.

You hesitate, grabbing it and holding it closely around your body in hopes of stopping the cold feeling in your bones. It’s much warmer in here and the only rain is tapping against the window from outside, but Wanda is here and she looks at you with a type of distaste you’ve never seen before.

“I need to get to work. I’m late.” You mumble eventually after a few minutes of silence, but she just puts her hands on your shoulders and rubs them to bring you more warmth as she replies calmly, “No. I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

You go to argue, but she simply shakes her head and sits down at your piano on the other end of the room. She begins to play a simple but calm song, and she watches in the corner of her eye as you sink down on the couch next to the fireplace and slowly close your eyes. You’re still awake though, that much she can tell by the way your fingers tap along to the pattern of the music.

Finally she slowly stops the song, letting her hands fall to rest on her thighs as she stares at the keyboard with her eyebrows furrowed.

“Why would you lie to me?”

You open your eyes, watching with a guilty but sincere look as she chews on her lower lip and gently presses a few of the keys. “I’m truly sorry Wanda. I figured if we spent that time together, I would be able to learn more about you…in hopes of eventually asking you out. It was stupid, and wrong, and I’m sorry.”

She sighs, closing the keyboard cover and turning to face you. “If you had asked, I would have said yes.”

Your eyes widen in shock. Is she messing with you?

Wanda continues, “If you had just told me all of that when we first met, we could have gone out and gotten dinner or- or lunch or on a picnic like normal people.” You nod along, silently fidgeting with the bottom of your shirt. “So go ahead.”

You’re silent for a second, looking around as if wondering if she’s talking to you to which she giggles and nods. That laugh could fix all your issues.

“Wanda Maximoff, I’d really like to get to know you. The right way this time. Will you go out with me?” You ask nervously after clearing your throat and sitting up in your seat.

Wanda smirks, rubbing her chin as if in deep thought. “I don’t know…”

You laugh a bit when she does, though you’re too busy smiling brightly as she nods. “I’d love to go out with you. No lying to me this time though. And you have to teach me that song you were playing at the recital.”

“No way. A magician never reveals their secrets.” You tease, sitting next to her on the bench as she laces your hands together and says with her own smile, “Oh really? So I just agreed to a date for nothing? You’re mean.”

All is fair in love and music though.

⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ

#wanda maximoff x you #marvel x reader #marvel #the scarlet witch x reader #the scarlet witch #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel x you #piano

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 days

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Study Buddy 2

Warnings: this series will include dark elements which may include bullying, noncon or dubcon, or violent behaviour. Mind the warnings.

Summary: a group project leads to a tense partnership.

Character: Walter Marshall

Big thanks to those who read! Feedback always helps inspire and you know I’m always happy to chat about possibilities! Please reblog and comment ❤️

You breeze through the book to your own surprise. Between your other classes and your part-time gig down at the shop, you make quick work of it. You sit to transcribe the notes you made by hand into the doc as your phone buzzes.

‘Should start writing. I can meet tomorrow.’

The message is as blunt as anything else he’s said to you. Your brief first meeting with Walter still sticks in your head. You look back to the document and see another cursor in the doc. Your words are backspaced and reworded before you. You sigh. It’s going to be one of those projects.

‘Sure. I work til 2. Library?’

You put your phone down again and ignore the edits as you continue to input your notes. You don’t know why you’re doing any of it. He seems intent on doing it all himself.

Buzz. You flip your cell and cup your chin as you read the screen. ‘Can’t make it there. Daughter’s sick. Meet me here.’

Here? As in his home? That’s a lot.

You don't get it. He suggested tomorrow then just as quickly pulls the rug out. It's like every answer you have is wrong.

‘Don't work day after.’

‘Tomorrow after 2 is fine. I'll send address.’

That's it. Even via text, you hear his unbending tone. How can you argue with that punctuation?

You just type OK and leave it be. Maybe you'll get murdered. It would at least be the end of your problems. Of all the group work you’ve ever done, he’s the least compromising person you’ve ever encountered. Usually you’d be happy to let someone else take the lead but something about his demeanour just comes off condescending.

Or maybe that’s your insecurity talking.

You continue your notes in the doc. You notice the other cursor, highlighted green, moving around the page. You try to ignore the changes in real-time being made to your own thoughts. This isn’t going to be easy. At least you’ll be able to say you earned your grade.

💻

It seems a bit reckless to be walking up to stranger’s house. In fact, after reading a thriller about murder, it rings in your head as a very unwise decision. That being said, you have to get this assignment done. It might not be worth your life but what choice do you have?

You compare the house number with the address in your phone. That’s the one. One-half of a faded old duplex. You stride up the narrow walk beside the bushes and climb up the concrete steps. You knock and wait.

You’re exhausted already. You don’t know if you’re ready for this. Work was no fun. It never is. Sorting packages is no glorious deed but it pays.

You wait and go to knock again. The door opens before your knuckles can meet the wood and you nearly rap against the chest of the man behind it. You give a sheepish cringe and rescind your hand.

“Uh, hi,” you utter awkwardly.

“Mm, hey,” Walter responds, “come on.”

He checks his watch as he backs up. It’s almost three. The buses were clogged down in the city’s core and you missed your connection to his neighbourhood. He probably wouldn’t care that you walked two blocks just to make up for the change in commute.

You step inside as he stands against the door. It’s a tight squeeze. You can smell the woodsy hint of his cologne as you brush by him. You stay on the mat and lift your foot to untie your boot with one hand. You waver as he sidles by you and switch feet. You leave the worn treads by the door.

He looks to his left and you see the hooks mounted on the wall, jackets already hung there. You take the hint and put yours with them. You swipe your bag back up and follow him down the entryway and through the second door on your left.

The kitchen is lit with an amber hue, the glass shade of the ceiling light lending a soft tint to the space. He points you to the round table across from the apron of the counter and you claim a chair quietly. You peer around curiously as he marches to the counter.

He doesn’t say a word as he fills a navy blue mug. You bop your foot under the table. You feel like you’re disturbing him but this was his idea.

“Coffee?” He asks. At least he’s kind enough to ask.

“Um, no, thanks,” you wilt out, “I’m all good.”

You reach to your bag to distract yourself. You open up your laptop as you put it on the table. He sits heavily to your right, his cup clunking down onto the wood. He drags over the notebook with loose leaves tucked between the pages.

“You mind typing?” He asks, “I’m no good with the small keys.”

“Sure, uh, let me just open up the notes...” you swirl your fingers around the touchpad as he exhales. Each breath sounds exasperated.

“You’re not one of those,” he wonders, “no coffee? What, you don’t like caffeine?”

“Um, well, I have one coffee in the morning but I don’t drink it after noon or my head hurts.”

“Mmm,” he hums flatly, “too bad.”

He lifts his cup and gulps again, elbows on the table as he hovers the mug between his hands. He seems like that type. No sleep, only coffee. It might explain his general demeanour.

“So, I’ll just make a second doc where we can put our draft,” you explain to another one of his rocky grumbles.

You hear something hoarser from down the hall. Coughing followed by horrid hacking. Then a moan as a door opens.

“Dad,” the thin voice wafts down ahead of the girl. She’s maybe fifteen, a blanket around her shoulders, as her reddened nose offers the only colour in her drawn face, “I need more cough syrup.”

“Faye,” he stands, his cup hitting the table just as harshly as before. “Go back to bed.”

“My head hurts,” she whimpers.

He stalks over to meet her by the fridge, “I know, sweetheart,” his softened tone surprises you, “go lay down and I’ll bring you some tea.” He opens the fridge and takes out a dark brown bottle, “here.” He hands her the syrup and she sniffles. He pats her arm gently, “don’t get me sick, kid.”

Her glazes eyes flit towards you as you sit with your hands over the keyboard. You look away meekly, caught.

“Who’s that, dad?” She asks.

“Schoolwork,” he gives the terse answer, “group project.”

“Oh,” she lets out the single syllable before she devolves back into a coughing fit.

“Lay down,” he demands.

As she retreats, he turns back and crosses to the counter. He flicks on the kettle and faces you, glaring over at you.

“Just a minute,” he says.

“Take your time,” you return gently, “she’s in rough shape.”

“Mm,” he rumbles, “I’m sure she doesn’t mind the time off school.”

#walter marshall #dark walter marshall #dark!walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #night hunter #study buddy #au #series #drabble

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crazylittlejester · 2 days

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I’m gonna go on a crazy ass rant because I’m upset and also very tired

A huge reason as to why I characterize Warriors the way that I do, regarding his fear of being poisoned and his food anxiety, is a way to explain myself and my own anxieties caused by my allergies, because when I say to someone I don’t think I can eat the food at the party/function/their house EVEN IF it was specifically made to be free of my allergens, they just don’t understand why I can’t eat it. They just don’t understand that just because it’s ‘safe’ doesn’t mean I feel safe enough to eat it, because there’s always that lingering ‘What if’ in my mind that food made outside of my vision is contaminated somehow.

It is so HARD to explain to people the genuine fear that you are going to die because a food created an odd texture in your mouth and you gave yourself a panic attack over nothing. It breaks my heart every time I go to my friends house and her mom offers to make me food because I’ve been at her house for thirteen hours and haven’t eaten a meal with them, because even though she cleans everything and offers to let me watch her make it, there’s still this loud screaming voice in my mind saying that that food is not safe to eat. And it just NEVER goes away. I feel awful because her mom is so sweet and willing to help me, and I just can’t ever accept because I manage to convince myself it’s contaminated every time

I have been dealing with this for my entire life and never not once have I been able to get someone to understand what this feels like or seen it shown in a media form anywhere. I’ve had family and therapists both just tell me to get over myself, because I’m being ‘ridiculous’ and the craziest thing to me EVER is that for the first time in nineteen years, I have had an outlet to throw this frustration into. Warriors and the food issues I have given him are so important to me because for the first time in my life I can explain this fear through a character and even if people may not relate or really, truly get what it’s like, they understand. They understand and they recognize it as a valid fear, and it’s because of a fanfiction about a traumatized war hero. (which is INSANE to me that this is what it took for people to understand, but you know what, I’ll take it)

This rant was inspired because I opened a sealed container of ice cream and the allergen labels were incorrect and now I can’t eat it and I’ve wasted money and I’m so upset and it’s been a really long week, but also because I never saw anyone talking about this when I was a kid, and if I’d had someone there to represent me like this, or just be there for me to connect with, I would’ve felt a lot better. Understanding allergies and food restrictions is so important for so many reasons, the most important being that if you know how to help someone, you can save their LIFE. And for other people who feel the same way I do, it’s so GOOD to know you’re not alone and that there’s someone out there who gets what you’re dealing with

If I can make people understand what it’s like to live life this way, then that is so important to me. If I can explain to people what to do in an emergency situation because their friend is having a allergic reaction, I will, because not enough people understand how allergies work, and I’m sick and tired of hearing stories about kids with allergies who were peer pressured into eating when they didn’t feel comfortable and then suffering the consequences, and I am TIRED of seeing companies mislabel their fucking food.

Also do NOT be afraid to ask any friends or classmates or coworkers with allergies how to use an epi pen because You Could Save Their Life. If anyone is curious, I’LL tell you, or look up a youtube video I’m sure there are some on there

Anyways, this is why I give Warriors the food issues I do in my fics, for anyone else out there with allergies who’s ever felt invalidated by people telling them their anxieties were stupid, and so people who have no idea what it’s like to fear your food will kill you can try to understand that this is the irritating reality for some of your peers. (not that everyone with allergies has this exact experience, I have a friend with allergies who just eats whatever and prays it wont kill them, but I know now that there are plenty of people out there with allergies who DO have this experience)

Sorry for kinda ranting, (I’m just a little guy 🥺), but this is something that is so hugely important to me, and sorry Warriors but you had too similar of a problem so now you get my exact issues 🫶

#linked universe #lu warriors #tw vent #kind of?? tagging it just in case #anyways i am FINE just really annoyed 🕺🕺🕺#jes talks #jes rambles #jes rants

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ohmtoff · 3 days

Note

could i request a fic of reader and nick having a friends with benefits type of relationship, reader is in love with nick but doesn’t realise nick is in love with reader too so they have a mutual pining situation?

Mutually Exclusive

Summary: You can’t handle being just friends with benefits with Nick, not when you’re in love with him.

WC: 1.6k

Contains: angst, pining, misunderstandings, friends with benefits (or is it?)

a/n: heyyy!! so sorry for taking so long to write this😭 hope it’s okay that i didnt write any smut even though it’s a FWB prompt lol i just wasnt feeling to write smut sorryyy anon. hope you like ittt <3

——————————————————————————

Your head was pillowed on Nick’s chest, your fingers skimming over Nick’s soft stomach, occasionally trailing it across his chest hair which makes him giggle, and you were trying to figure out how to tell him you’d been asked on a date. Nick was running his fingers through your hair, occasionally placing a soft kiss to your temple, and your head is racking on how to explain that this will be the last time you will ever be in bed with him. You both had just finished a particularly sweet bout of intimacy, you felt utterless boneless, and you needed to somehow tell Nick you couldn’t keep doing this.

When you had first met Nick — at a party thrown by Larray — you’d immediately been drawn to him. How could you not be; Nick was cute and soft, so handsome in a way that still somehow felt comfortable and approachable. Eyes so blue and piercing that your heart immediately fluttered at the first eye contact. And Nick had apparently been drawn to you as well, at least that was the impression you got when you both ended up making out in the corner of the party a mere hour later.

After that first time, you both just kept… hooking up. Initially, it was only at parties, both gravitating towards each other and ending the night entangled in some way. Soon, after Nick had insisted you and him exchange numbers, it morphed into scheduled hook-ups, no pretense of a party required. And then you both started hanging out afterwards, trying a new restaurant or watching a movie or just talking. You’d catch meals together and facetime each other before going to sleep.

You weren’t sure when you both transitioned from random strangers hooking up to hook-ups who occasionally hang out to inseparable friends who also happen to hook up with each other, but you didn’t want to question it. Nick was maybe the best thing to ever happen to you, and you weren’t about to complicate that with logistics.

A finger ran over your face, smoothing out the wrinkle that had appeared between your eyes, snapping you out of your thoughts and into the present. “What’s got you so stressed?”

I thought I was okay with us just being friends with benefits but someone else asked me out and I’ve realised that I don’t want to go out with someone who isn’t you but that’s not what this is and I don’t know what to do about it because this isn’t enough but I don’t want anyone else.

“Mm, nothing.” You nuzzled into Nick’s chest.

“I know you. You don’t get that little crinkle between your eyes unless you got something on your mind.” Nick kissed the area in question, featherlight and soft.

“You know that guy, Curtis?” You focused on the tattoo of Nick’s arm, smoothing over them lightly, marveling at the goosebumps he left in his wake.

“Um, I think? That one guy that’s stalking you?” Nick chuckled, and the vibrations in his chest shook you just a bit. Just enough to remind you how physically close you and him were in that moment, as if neither boy existed without the other. Something panged near your heart.

“He’s not… He’s not stalking me.”

“Oh, so he just happens to appear everywhere you are? I don’t think we’ve gone anywhere in the last month without him ‘randomly’ showing up. He’s obsessed with you.” Nick pushed back your hair from your forehead and kissed you there. “Can’t say I blame him, though.”

Your chest ached. You weren’t sure when you’d fallen in love with Nick, but you were now firmly in the throes of it and every delicate gesture from Nick, every word of affection, every tiny touch, twisted something deep in your stomach. When Nick held you like this, naked and sated and warm, and looked at you with those adoring eyes, touched you like you mattered, You found it almost impossible to hold back all that you was feeling.

“You obsessed with me, Nicolas?” You hoped the joke would defuse some of the tension, maybe make Nick believe you too could be cool and casual about all of this.

“Yeah,” Nick whispered before cupping your face like you were something precious and pulling you into a kiss, small and slow and perfect.

You wanted to cry.

You needed a moment to gather yourself after Nick pulled back, eyes closed and lips still puckered.

“What did Curtis do?” Nick’s fingers returned to your hair.

“He, uh, he…” You thought it may be less painful to pluck out his own eyelashes than continue. “He asked me out.”

You hadn’t known how you thought Nick would react, but laughter had not been anywhere on your list. But Nick did just that, laughing boisterously, shaking them both. “Oh, wow. Poor Curtis.”

Poor Curtis. What did that mean?!

You frowned and sat up, needing to somehow find a way to put space between yourself and Nick. You turned to face the wall and crossed your arms, fighting back tears.

“You don’t have to be cruel, Nick.”

“What?” Nick sat up too, placing a tentative hand on your shoulder, which you shrugged off. “I just meant—”

“I know what you meant!” You looked down, concentrating on Nick’s white sheets. “Just because you don’t want to date me doesn’t mean no one else does.”

“What?! What are you talking about?!” Nick almost sounded angry, as if you were the one mocking him.

“People can like me, Nick! People can find me attractive and compelling and worthwhile.” Tears formed in the corners of your eyes.

“Babe, I know that—”

“So why did you laugh? Why did you pity Curtis for liking me?”

“What are you talking about?!” Nick sounded on the verge of tears as well, which finally made you turn to look at him.

His face was flushed red, his eyes glassy and wet, and he almost looked scared, as though your words were wounding him somehow.

“I’m worth someone liking me like that. I deserve that.” Some of your resolve was slipping at Nick’s expression, but you still managed to choke out a self-defense.

“I know that. You think I don’t know that?!” A tear slid down Nick’s cheek.

“You don’t get to cry, Nick. You’re the one insulting me.”

Another tear fell down Nick’s perfect face, splotchy and red, but still perfect. “I don’t get to cry when my boyfriend seems to be trying to break up with me by accusing me of not liking him and talking about another guy asking him out?”

“Wh–what?”

“I’m gonna cry over that, baby.” Nick’s voice was thick, his face now covered in a steady stream of tears. “I’m gonna cry over you breaking my heart.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“You have a boyfriend?” Since when did Nick have a boyfriend?

“Apparently I don’t anymore.” Nick’s voice caught at the end, a sob escaping his mouth.

“I— I’m your boyfriend?” Were you an idiot? Had you been dating Nick this whole time? You reached out to grab Nick’s face, wiping tears with the pads of your thumbs. “Nick. I am genuinely asking you: am I your boyfriend?”

Nick gaped at you. “I— yes? I thought so.”

You floundered for a moment, surveying Nick’s face for any sign of insincerity. Instead, all you found was wide-eyed hope. In lieu of any verbal response, you pulled Nick’s face to your own, kissing him with all you had, all the twisted aches in your stomach, all the blind hopes in your heart. You guided Nick back down, settling on top of him as your kiss deepened. The only thing you could think was NickNickNick.

“Mm.” Nick lightly pushed you back, separating your lips so he could talk. “You really didn’t know?”

“You never said anything. I don’t even know if you liked me like that, I thought we were just… hooking up.”

Nick stroked a thumb over your bottom lip, blowing a soft breath of laughter out of his nose. “Baby, I’m almost embarrassingly in love with you.”

“I didn’t know. You never… I didn’t know.”

“I guess I could have been clearer. But I thought when we started actually going on dates…” Nick trailed off, cheeks flushing.

You groaned and dropped your forehead to his chest. “You know damn well people now go on dates and have sex casually. How was I supposed to know we were serious? I thought we were friends who hung out all the time and then had sex.”

“Yeah, my love, that’s what dating is.” A beautiful laugh bubbled out of Nick, a bit watery from his crying, but still so lovely and bright.

“Okay, well, that makes it a lot easier to turn Curtis down.”

“I may not like that he went after my boyfriend, but without him, you may have just assumed we were platonic best friends who kiss for the rest of our lives. Our grandchildren gather round to hear our love story and you’re like ‘he’s just my friend, he doesn’t like me like that.’”

You raised your head and grinned wickedly. “Grandchildren?”

Nick smiled back, soft and glowing. “Oh yeah, we’re ride or die besties. May as well go in on one headstone, purely for financial purposes. And one last name too. Again, for financial purposes.”

“You proposing?” Just joking about it made your stomach do several backflips.

“Nah, not yet. We have to at least buy our own house first.”

You chuckled. “Hey.”

“Hm?”

“I’m embarrassingly in love with you too.”

You settled back onto Nick’s chest, resuming your skimming of his stomach, listening intently to Nick’s heart race. Despite having been in this exact position ten minutes prior, he felt lighter now, none of the trepidation and insecurity remaining.

Nick wanted you — loved you — as so much more than a friend with benefits, and you had never been happier.

#nick sturniolo #nick sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo imagine #nick sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo x male reader #nick sturniolo fanfiction #sturniolo triplets fanfiction

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puppy-steve · 1 day

Text

strawberry wine

real life has got me feeling stressed and uncertain so, naturally, i started thinking about a previous fic, which can also be read here

The kitchen’s dark, save for the light above the sink. Steve is elbow deep in soapy dish water when the radio on the china hutch behind him clicks on, a soft country ballad trickling into the quiet space. Arms wrap around his waist and Steve huffs a laugh as he reaches for the dish rag to dry his hands.

He turns in Eddie’s arms and is met with an expression that’s so open and full of love. It still catches Steve off guard sometimes, still not used to being loved by someone who proudly shows all of his emotions on his sleeve.

Eddie takes Steve’s hand in his as they sway in the dim light. Steve buries his face in Eddie’s shoulder and closes his eyes, letting him take the lead.

I still remember

When thirty was old

My biggest fear was September

When he had to go

The lyrics are like an arrow in Steve’s stomach. He grips Eddie’s shoulder tighter and presses closer to him as they continue to sway in the slow circle. Eddie just rubs a soothing hand up and down his back.

A few cards and letters

And one long distance call

We drifted away

Like the leaves in the fall

Doesn’t mention the tears seeping through his shirt or the way Steve’s shoulders wrack with silent sobs. Eddie presses a kiss above his hair and holds him tighter while he croons softly.

Strawberry wine and seventeen

The hot July moon, saw everything

My first taste of love

Whoa, bittersweet

“I don’t want you to go,” Steve admits against his shoulder, feeling a bit like a child throwing a tantrum. He thinks he’s allowed to be a little selfish when it feels like his whole world is being ripped away from him.

Robin’s transferring her community college credits to a state school after her gap year ends and the kids are a month away from graduation and starting their own college journeys.

Corroded Coffin’s been noticed. Their gigs at The Hideout have been growing ever since Eddie’s name was cleared and the murder charges were dropped and there was an actual scout at their last one. Talked to the band and showed them a pretty picture of fame and fortune.

And a way out of this cursed town.

And Steve? Steve has no idea where he’s headed in life. He gave college a try three separate times after Vecna and dropped out each time after a semester. Too stupid to understand what his professors were talking about and unable to keep up with the workload while also working full time.

What good is he if the world isn’t ending? If he isn’t being the protector, the body they need when shit goes sideways (it always goes sideways.) His parents were at least kind enough to pay off the mortgage and cover the utilities for at least a year before they fucked off to God knows where, but once that’s up? Family Video only pays so much and he’s definitely not being paid to drive the brats around every weekend.

“I know,” Eddie says, because they’ve already talked about it. The band’s been invited up to Chicago to meet with label executives next month to let them hear some samples of their music, and that means the possibility of signing a contract and finally getting their big break.

Steve is so, so proud of him.

He’s also so, so lost.

They’ve stopped dancing. Eddie is still running his fingertips along his spine comfortingly. Steve sniffs and pulls back just enough to look at him. His boyfriend has opted for a flannel over a band t-shirt today. Steve fiddles with the collar and doesn’t meet Eddie’s concerned eyes.

“But you have to go.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself. “I can’t hold you back from something you’ve waited your whole life for.” He gives Eddie a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Corroded Coffin is your baby.”

Eddie cups his face and frowns. “You’ll always come first, you know that, right? Even if I’m on the other side of the world, as soon as you say the word, I’ll come right back to you.”

Steve does know that, and it scares the absolute shit out of him. Being loved so completely and unconditionally. It’s been almost three years and he’s is ashamed to admit he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Eddie to wake up and realize he could do so much better than a washed-up has-been who peaked in high school.

For him to realize that Steve Harrington isn’t actually a good dude after all.

But he wants this thing with Eddie to last longer than three years. He wants forever with him and he can only hope that Eddie wants the same. So he swallows down his insecurities and self doubt and leans into Eddie’s space, pressing their noses together and taking the lead of the dance this time.

“I promise not to call too often, then.”

taglist (mutuals lmk if you want to be added!): @yournowheregirl @steves-strapcollection @thefreakandthehair @stobinesque @vecnuthy

@tboygareth @flowercrowngods @starryeyedjanai @matchingbatbites @corrodedbisexual

@theheadlessphilosopher @patchworkgargoyle @sentient-trash @wormdebut @legitcookie

@corrodedcoughin @steddieas-shegoes @wynnyfryd @sidekick-hero @simplebtromance

#cj talks #cj writes #steddie #steddie fic #this new tagging format is ugly but it works. i promise i wasn't forgetting yall i just didn't realize you wasn't being tagged 😭😭😭😭#there was someone who asked to be added via dms but i can't seem to find the message?????

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subwaysurf45 · 13 hours

Text

The Cafe

Pairing: College!Bucky x Reader

Words: 6k

Warnings: nothing really (except for the fact that I haven't posted in like a year lmao), alcohol, self-doubt, etc...

A/N: don't get used to this...just an idea I managed to finish.

The first few times you were seen in the campus cafe it was when you were by yourself. You must have been completely unaware of the constant nail biting or when your neck would let your head fall forward in discouragement, all the signs that you were stressed flew under your radar.

As Bucky Barnes stood behind the cash he looked over his customers should to see your head fall forward once again, the third time since his shift started fifteen minutes ago…not that he was counting. He knew it was a problem when the customer he was serving looked over their shoulder, not understanding what Bucky was looking at.

He’d watch you go from sitting completely still to your finger flying across the keyboard with a new idea, as if you were rushing to write it down before the idea slipped through your fingers. When you’d hit your groove, not looking away to grab your coffee mug provided by the cafe, Bucky took it as a sign to tone down the stairs to see if you were okay.

With your headphones on and music blasting the hairs on the back of your neck didn’t stand up like they normally do when someone was looking at you, truthfully, you had caught the barista looking a few times but you had no idea that wasn’t even the half of it.

Bucky was truly hypnotized by you, and he had no reason to be. Maybe it was the insane work ethic that blew him away, always by yourself with headphones on your laptop open. Maybe it was the way in which you talked to service workers, always adding a please and thank you no matter the service you got. It didn’t help that you were beautiful in his eyes, he could stare at you for hours, taking in your attributes as if he was being tested on it.

His stomach always twisted when he saw you pack up after a few hours. Part of him wanted to go up and talk to you, maybe offer another cup of coffee to keep you there for longer. But he knew that it was selfish, and creepy. He’d always dreamed of following you out of the cafe and asking you out, or even for your name…probably the name would be the first question. He felt like he knew you before ever really conversing with you, but the moment you left and vanished from view out of the windows he was reminded time and time again he did nothing, just staring and holding back.

********

“Welcome to another lecture everyone,” Dr. Fury spoke from the front of the room, you were already set up with your notes, hands hovering over the keyboard due to the speed at which he talked. He was an amazing professor, you’d tell people, but he couldn't help how fast he talked when he was in the middle of lecturing.

“I thought you were going to skip,” you whispered to Wanda as she sat down next to you, rushing to pull out her notes. It was only one minute past the class start time and yet Dr. Fury was beginning his lecture, “why can’t he talk about his weekend for like two seconds,” Wanda whispered as she opened up her laptop to a black screen that stayed that way.

All you could do was laugh before taking out your charger, “there you go.”

Wanda just looked at you with an apologetic smile, “you are a lifesaver, this and the notes you let me borrow,” she thought for a moment, “let's get coffee, let me buy you a coffee as a moment to thank you for our friendship.”

You giggled quietly to yourself as your fingers began to type, “I’ll never say no to a coffee, but you don’t need to always pay me back, you know I have your back.”

“I know,” Wanda quickly responded to not annoy the students surrounding you, “but just let me, okay?”

All you could do was nod with a smile on your face, a small warmth bloomed in your chest as you took a moment to reflect. You had a good friend with you, one that you’d want to keep for a while; especially if she likes to buy you coffee.

When the class finished you stayed back to ask Dr.Fury a question about a topic that didn’t make sense in the lecture, Wanda was going to meet you at the cafe after her meeting with her biology professor. Dr. Cho held weekly tutoring sessions that Wanda found extremely helpful.

Before you could fully make it out of the lecture hall you felt a tap on your shoulder, when you turned around a semi-familiar face greeted you. Something was off about the individual but you knew you knew them. Even though you didn’t really remember the boy, you smile wide.

“Hey,” he said quickly, “I love your sweater, did you see them live?”

Your eyes lit up, “yes I did and thank you,” without thinking you grew coy, “it was like a religious experience, I love live music,” you managed to pull a giggle from him. “I know this sounds so rude but I know you but I don’t at the same time…” you trailed off with a squint.

“I work at the cafe?” it was a question, “I also have a class in here right now so maybe-”

“James, I didn't even recognize you without the hairnet and apron oh my god how stupid of me!” Your face grows hot, your favourite barista compliments your sweater and you forget who he is. “I am so sorry.”��

“No, don’t be sorry,” he quickly waved his hand, “I know, the uniform becomes a part of you at some point,” his eyes lit up when you giggled.

“I’m heading there now to get coffee with a friend, when do you work next?” you could see in his face for a moment that he was surprised at the question, as if he didn’t fully believe youd care enough and actually go in to see him.

“I work tomorrow, I have a lab due tonight so that’s going to take the top spot on the to-do list,” he bashfully smiled.

“Okay,” you nodded, “then I’ll see you tomorrow, James,” your face grew warm again as you back away, “have a good class.”

“You too,” James said before biting his lip, you just had your class, idiot.

But you just giggled and left. Didn’t point and laugh that he couldn’t flirt, didn’t care to point out his heavy blush the entire time he spoke to you, didn’t make fun of him when he let his true thoughts show on his face.

Bucky sat down at a seat, he placed his hands on his face to feel a radioactive heat still burning hot. He knew he’d be completely out of it the entire class, how could he focus on molecular genetics when all he could think of was the girl he was hypnotized by talking to him; nevermind asking about when his next shift was.

“Why are you sunburnt?” Sam asked the moment he sat down, Steve joining Bucky on the other side.

“Shut up,” Bucky rolled his eyes.

Sam whipped his head to look over, “oh that’s not a sunburn, that’s a blush!” Sam poked his shoulder to be a nuisance, “I forget how red you guys get it’s hilarious,” Sam laughed to himself, “who got you that flustered?”

“Ended up talking to the girl from the cafe,” Bucky muttered, the seats around him were filling up and the last thing he wanted was to have a group therapy session with everyone in his class about the girl who finally talked to him. “She’s as sweet as I thought.”

“Oh you’re a goner,” Steve shook his head, “invite her to the house party, maybe she has a friend she can bring to make it less obvious, you guys can talk there.”

“It’s too soon,” Bucky shook his head, “I’m not doing that.”

“I think you should, even if she says no at least she actually knows you want to see her again, maybe get to know her.” Sam dropped the joking tone and got as serious as Steve, the two of them could see how much he liked that girl. “What did she say to you?”

“I just complimented her sweater, I know the band and I know they were just on tour, she-...” his words got caught in his throat when he realized inviting her to the party wasn’t a stretch, “she asked when I was working next…”

Sam facepalm, “because she wants to see you again…” The mocking tone came back, James honestly preferred the devil-angel situation with Steve and Sam instead of them both getting serious on Bucky. “But no of course, it’s too soon.”

The class started and Bucky barely took any notes, he was thinking of you at the cafe with your friend. His mind wandered to all the terrible outcomes of you going to the party, any outcome other than him getting with you - or even speaking to you. Both Sam and Steve knew Bucky was not looking for another notch in his belt, being raised by a single mom gave him a unique view of women; including the mommy issues.

********

Bucy Barnes had never made so many coffee’s wrong in one shift. Everytime the bell rang on the door to signal a new customer, he’d look up to see who it was and somehow mess up a pour or leave the milk to steam a little too long. He’d never admit to anyone how high he got his hopes up, he’d think how pathetic he was and miss his pour, landing hot coffee onto the back of his hand.

His shifts were long and he felt like you knew that as well, there would be times during midterm season where you’d out-last him at a table while he worked his shift. Part of him always wanted to stay back, not knowing how long you stayed; he wouldn’t be surprised if you had walked yourself home in the dark more than once.

Bucky was in the middle of an order when the ball rang again, his eyes shifted slightly when asking for the customer's name - his stomach dropped; you actually showed up. Not that he would ever think you wouldn’t show up but the anticipation was over.

Seeing that he was busy you waved with a big smile, raising both eyebrows as you found a table. Once he finished his order and began working on the coffee he took his time watching you, seeing how you set everything up before getting your coffee.

“Totally didn’t expect to see you here,” you spoke softly as you walked up to the counter, “how’s the shift been?”

Bucky smiled, “pretty good,” while he was thinking of every time he messed up thinking of you, “pretty slow as well which is always nice.”

You giggled, “I’m glad to hear, can I just get my usual, please?” you pulled out your wallet.

“Of course,” Bucky punched it in, a simple order that was always the same. “Anything else?”

“No, that’s okay, thank you!” you smiled, ready to pay.

This is your moment, do something.

“Come on, let me get you something to eat, on the house?” he pointed to the small treats they also sold beside him, definitely not as popular as their drinks but he knew you’d be here for a while, who wouldn’t want a little treat?

He could see you grow coy again, tucking your chin into your neck like you did yesterday when he complimented your sweater. It was as if you didn’t experience this often, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. It occurred to him at that moment that you might be as nervous as him, maybe guys being interested wasn’t as often as he thought, especially someone as beautiful as you.

“What have I done to deserve that?” your voice has grown so quiet.

“For starters, you’ve always been extremely polite whenever you order, you’d be surprised how many people think we’re robots,” hearing the giggle he pulled from you made his heart soar, “and because you deserve it, you’ve been studying here forever and you deserve a little recognition, a little something - I don't know…” Maybe he gave too much away, maybe you were thinking to yourself how he knew how often you studied, maybe you weren’t as interested in him than he thought.

“Chocolate chip muffin, please,” you beamed and all the worries washed away, “that is so kind, James, you just made my day.”

Before he could say anything, even correct you to use his nickname, the door blasted open. In that moment all the confidence he accumulated dissolved right between his fingers. All he could think was oh no as he saw Steve and Sam burst through the door. To think he was actually about to ask you to come to the house party, to think he actually made progress with you, all torn up in one moment.

“Bucky!” Sam shouted.

Bucky stood still as you looked over your shoulder to see the two men attempt to squeeze through the single door at the exact same time. He could see your brows pulled tightly together, the way you were so thrown off by the loud call in a semi-full and semi-silent cafe.

“I’m so sorry,” Bucky whispered before the two men managed to approach the cash.

All you did was smile at James, realizing whatever condolence you offered would be heard by the two guys approaching. You quickly paid and stepped to the side, thinking they just wanted to order next.

“Hey, Bucky,” Steve said, “how’s the shift?”

“So great,” Bucky deadpanned as he made your coffee, looking over to see you trying to cover a smirk.

When he placed your coffee down you reached out quickly, managing to brush your hand against his. “The muffin?” you whispered, not wanting to further embarrass him in front of what you assumed were his friends. “Thank you again, that was really sweet,” you said as you picked up the plate.

“She got a free muffin?” Sam whined, “you never let me get anything for free.”

You stood there giggling, “maybe don’t almost break down the door when you walk in and see people studying,” you shrugged, “just a thought.”

Not wanting to entertain any longer, you walked away, back to your little spot in the corner. Once your headphones were on you began to work, toggling back between tabs as you worked on your paper. The one thing you learned about James when you worked here was that he was a very focused guy, rarely ever did you see him standing around or slacking off. There was always something going on behind the counter, he was always busy.

As you worked you could see the two men who barged in slowly shrink into themselves, you could tell James wasn’t very happy, which is a first. Part of you had to agree, it was a very cute moment. Being told you’re a memorable customer that has an impact took you out of your normal routine. Most days were the same, it would have you thinking late at night what was it all for?

Moments like that, when you’re gifted with a free muffin by someone who makes you smile almost everyday. It was now retrospectively obvious there was something else under this offering, which was why James was so upset. To say that James was harsh on the eyes would be a blatant lie. He was a very handsome guy but to you he was someone working a job that involved a customer service persona.

After yesterday, seeing him in his element, you realized that persona wasn’t just so he could pay his rent; he actually enjoyed the moments with you as much as you enjoyed them with him. But it was spoiled in a way, a way you thought was left in high school.

You didn’t even notice when the two boys left, the bell ringing for another customer that rang right when a song faded out brought your attention up, seeing James smile to the customer walking in. You let yourself pause to think for a while, working through what your next paragraph would cover, but an all too familiar habit began to roll out as you watched James work behind the counter.

Who the hell is Bucky?

He was James, that’s what his name tag said. In what world did James logically connect to Bucky, it must have been some inside joke or story you obviously didn’t know. It never occurred to you that he was someone else to others, you had realized how repetitive you have been, how robotic.

“Hey,” James slid into the chair in front of you, scaring you half to death, “sorry.”

You slowly slid your hand off your chest, reaching over to music at the same time. “Don’t worry,” you smiled.

“Sorry about my friends earlier,” he couldn’t look more sincere, “they always do this, like, always.” you just laughed, understanding how annoying this was to him. “So I just wanted to say sorry, I don’t know if they made you uncomfortable or anything.”

“Not really,” you shook your head, “I’d like to remember the moment right before that instead.”

This seemed to take him by surprise, “me too,” he spit out, making sure to keep you on the same page, as if this would never happen in his wildest dreams. “Also,” he paused for a moment, “those same,” he sighed, “those same guys are having a house party this weekend and before they crashed in I was going to tell you about it, I don't know if parties are your thing but I thought if you were looking for one…we could maybe, y’know,” his eyes got lost, he was losing confidence, “see each other when I’m not working, as actual people, you know?” His voice was pitched up, his eyes squinting.

You were nowhere close to a party monster in your mind, most weekends you stayed in, sometimes with Wanda, and just chill. The week ate away at you and left you too tired to even think about getting ready, pregaming, going out, so on and so forth. But you were tired of feeling robotic, this was the time to live it up.

“I’d love to go out this weekend, I can't remember the last time I was at a house party, honestly.” you looked out the window to think but couldn’t remember the date, just drunk memories that didn’t make sense now. “Do you mind if I invite my friend, I promise she won’t keep me to herself but I think she’d love a party.”

James quickly agrees, “yeah, of course, of course, no worries, Invite whoever because I know for a fact those two-” he couldn’t find another word, “-idiots want some rager, I don't know.” All he could do was laugh, “so bring whoever.”

“Since I’m going I need to make sure they let me in, will they kick me out if I ask for James? Who’s Bucky?” you laughed and sipped your coffee, slowly pushing your laptop screen down a bit to show your attention.

In a moment you saw his face grow red, he tried to cover it with his hands but to no avail. “That would be my nickname, so happy you noticed,” he said sarcastically, “my middle name is Buchanan, so of course my childhood best friend- the blonde one -shortened it and somehow it has stuck all these years.”

“You don't seem to be happy with it?” your hands clasped under your chin to hold your head up, your eyes squinted as you studied him.

He tilted his head back and forth, “I mean they’re my buddies so I can see why they would call me by my nickname but y’know, I don’t mind James…” his face grew red again, “especially when it comes to you.”

It was your turn to grow warm, covering your face as well. “You are such a flirt, first the muffin, now this,” you giggled.

“First the compliment, really, I had never seen you outside of the cafe before, I wanted to make an impression,” he said after a while, “now I feel like I’m spilling all my secrets,” his eyes met yours quickly, “I just-...” he sighed, “I feel like I can just talk to you, I don't know.”

“I’m glad,” you smiled, “because you can, and I’m very excited to see you this weekend.”

All he could do was smile to himself, “me too,” he drummed on the table a few times before looking at his watch, “sorry, even though I could keep talking I only had a fifteen minute break,” his thumb jerked over his shoulder, “I gotta get back.”

“That’s all good, I’d never get my work done,” you grabbed your headphones again, “wait, I need to know how to get there, the party,” you clarified.

“Right, okay,” James looked over his shoulder, the pen he used to write down expiry dates on the dairy products was clipped to his apron that he still had on. With the clean napkin you grabbed for your muffin he quickly scribbled down something, “I’ll see you Saturday night, okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded, watching with a smile as you see him get right back into working. You slid the napkin towards you and saw his number, followed by the address of the party. Knowing you, you’d lose the napkin before Saturday and would need to text him.

But he didn’t know that, he just gave you his number.

********

YOU: Wanda do I have news for you

WANDA: TELL ME TELL ME

YOU: you know that really cute barista at the cafe I always go to…

WANDA: SHUT UP

YOU: he gave me a free muffin and an invite to his friends house party this weekend

YOU: and of course I asked if you could come, so do you want to party this weekend?

WANDA: Is that even a question???

WANDA: also I need to lend you clothes for this, you need to end the night with that man oh my lord

YOU: Alright take it easy, we’ll see how it goes!

WANDA: don't be stupid you two would be so cute together!!

********

Throughout the week you and James had been texting all the time, you even waited after Fury’s class to say hi to him again. It ended up that you took the entire ten-minute grace period between classes to catch up since texting last. Conversations both in person and over the phone were easy, it didn’t feel as complicated as your other situationships and relationships.

There used to be calls with Wanda, freaking out over what was too risky or what was too boring. Forget the spitballing of the same sentences with minor changes, forget the excruciating nerves that came in the window after pressing send and before hearing back.

He was an interesting person to get to know, but you didn’t regret it. By Saturday you understood how Bucky could be so fitting, under the customer service persona, in his element, he’s a hilarious guy. It wasn’t always flirty, it wasn’t always serious, it was just a well-balanced conversation that seemed to continue for days.

As you stood in the bathroom, drink in one hand and mascara in the other, you bounced with Wanda as you both got ready. Friday night you and Wanda booked a study room and grinded your to-do’s that had yet to be completed, and a grind it was. Three red bull’s ,each, later you and Wanda were ready to take the entire day to pamper yourselves.

With no weights on your shoulders you took an everything shower this morning, feeling clean and well moisturized. You ate what you wanted throughout the day, treating yourself to the first thing that popped into mind. Wanda did the same, sleeping in until noon before beginning her wake-and-bake.

All of that pampering led to now, you and Wanda mouthing to Beyonce as you placed the finishing touches on your makeup.

“Another shot!” Wanda poured two shots, both of you taking them back like it was nothing.

“How long until the uber gets here?” you asked between coughs, trying to fight the vodka burn. You downed the vodka cranberry you made before spraying Wanda’s setting spray.

“Five minutes, we should head down,” Wanda did one final once-over before turning to you and making jazz hands around your face, “super-model is getting some dick tonight!” Wanda shouted before you could cover her mouth.

“Shut up!” you laughed and pulled Wanda into a hug, “are you sure you’re gonna be good if I go off with James?” you asked as you both grabbed your final things to shove in your small purses.

“Oh, of course,” Wanda looked over her shoulder, “but I want to meet those idiots and show them how to introduce a friend,” you couldn’t see her face but you knew she rolled her eyes; she found the story more annoying than you.

“Relax with that, let’s have an open mind,” you said as the elevator began to descend. Your phone in your hands, you were texting James to let him know the two of you were on your way.

When the two of you arrived the party was in full effect, before fully entering you sent another text to James, he hadn’t responded to the first one. The ride was short, not expecting the house to be this close.

JAMES: come down the main hall and into the kitchen, you’ll see me

You grabbed Wanda’s hand and began to march through people standing and talking, couples making out against the wall. There was a basement door before the kitchen, you could hear different music coming from the speakers down there. People were cheering and yelling, most likely playing a drinking game. Pushing through the final group of people you were in the kitchen, and there he was.

Two closed cans extended to you and Wanda, a tipsy smile gracing his face. “I’m so glad you guys could make it!” he spoke loudly to be heard over the dub-step music. “My buddies are there, I wanted to make sure you got in alright,” he confessed, bringing a blush to his cheeks. Three of you walked over to the two men you recognized. “Sam, Steve…” Bucky coughed, “this is y/n and her friend Wanda. Wanda, this is Sam and Steve,” James pointed to them respectively.

“Hi boys,” Wanda greeted with a half-smile.

Tipsy and slightly nervous you jutted in, “Wanda is a chem major.”

“We’re all in stem,” Steve lit up, “I’m in engineering, Sam’s in Biology with Bucky.”

Wanda almost spit out her drink, “who the hell is Bucky?”

Everyone laughed, in that moment you looked to James to see a wide smile, Wanda was in between you two so a look was all that seemed appropriate. The conversation flowed, primarily about stem activities. For a while you stood silently and listened to their similar stories and experiences. James didn’t talk that much, he seemed to be waiting for something.

The party had only grown but you all stayed in the same spot, you didn’t realize until a small push how crowded the kitchen became. Wanda jolted forward and James stepped in, moving Wanda to where he was standing so he could push back against the large group of guys obnoxiously jumping and screaming to a song.

Your circle slowly began to shrink, Sam and Steve stayed pressed against the counter, right by the corner. Wanda snuck in beside Steve, you noticed her flirty look at him. Instinctively you moved to stand more in front of James rather than beside, his hand quickly wrapped around you.

“This is okay, right?” he asked and brushed his thumb a few times on your waist to signal what he was talking about, you looked up quickly and nodded. The moment he saw your face his brows pulled tight, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you spoke over it all, he leaned down to listen, his hair almost in your face. As he bent down a gust of his cologne hit you, it had an undertone of beer. “Just kinda crowded.”

“Tell me if you want to go to the basement- how about that? They're playing beer pong down there, maybe we can watch?”

You nodded quickly, looking at Wanda who had moved away from Steve and was talking to another guy. “Wanda,” she looked over her shoulder, “I’m going to the basement, okay?”

Wanda’s eyes grew big as she gave a thumbs up, “I love you, I’m all good, have fun!”

You giggled and took Jame’s hand, he took the long way around the annoying crowd and to the door you noticed when you walked in. Finally starting to move after a while, you realized how drunk you really were. The stairs were steep, as one hand grabbed the hand rail the other was placed on his shoulder.

Once you got to the bottom he gently took your arm to get your attention, “still good?” he giggled.

“I’m very drunk, but good drunk!” your laugh pushed you into his chest, letting him wrap his arms around you. After a quick squeeze he pulled away and brought you away from the stairs, the both of you watched the game as you nodded your head to the beat.

“Have you been enjoying the party?” After a while James leaned down to your ear from behind you. The smell of beer washed over your face as his lips tickled the side of your ear. Before you could respond, a full-body tingle, accompanied by goosebumps, rippled down your body. James could obviously tell you had a physical reaction to him, “I saw that,” he whispered again, peering over to see your eyes gently close.

With his arms wrapped around your waist you slowly turned to face him, “that was like ASMR in real life,” you blurted out, your guilty pleasure slipping through your teeth. James laughed and nodded, his reaction calms your nerves because it seemed like he was drunk enough to admit it to.

“That shit is great!”

A burst of laughter ripped through you, your hand covering your mouth. “Imagine you recommending a coffee to someone like that,” you tried to imitate but another wheeze of laughter hit you, the alcohol making everything so much funnier.

“You’re adorable,” he chuckled to himself, a genuine smile gracing his face. He stared at you for a moment, his eyes switching between yours, though his smile faded a small grin stayed implanted on his face. “Can I kiss you?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” you bit your lip and nodded, your eyes flicking down to his lips as he licked them. One hand that sat on your hip moved to cup your jaw, his eyes watching your lips the entire time. As you leaned forward the alcohol pushed you a little too hard, there was no way you were going to ruin this moment by stumbling so you placed your hand on his chest, gently closing your eyes as you felt his lips connect with yours.

It seemed neither of you wanted it to end, holding onto the moment before slowly pulling away. It must have been the alcohol between the two of you because neither of you were satisfied, instantly you both kissed again, James prodding his tongue against your lips.

Getting the hint, you slightly opened your mouth and slid your hand up his chest. Grabbing a fistful of hair you kept him right where he wanted. Kissing him was like a drug, every second thought or insecurity slowly faded away as your shoulder rolled back for the first time this evening. Due to the lack of air you both pulled away at the same time, giggling to yourself as you looked around; realizing how public that make-out session was.

“Are you okay?”James asked, you quickly nodded and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek, making him blush. “You are such a good kisser,” he added.

“You too,” you tucked your chin into your neck, not knowing what to do with the attention.

After watching the end of the beer-pong game you both headed back upstairs to find Wanda, James was more than happy to come with you to check on her. She was with the same guy you saw her with when you left, when she saw you her eyes lit up. Before you could say anything she turned back to the guy, speaking quickly with an apologetic face. Quickly, she rounded the counter and grabbed both of your arms, “I see a little lip gloss smudge,” she reached up and wiped your top lip.

“Stop,” you gasped and quickly wiped around your lips to make sure it was all gone. “Now, who is that guy over there?”

“His name is Vision- he’s European, we’ve been talking so much about Europe it’s so nice to talk to an international student,” she leaned closer, “it also helps that he’s hot.”

You laughed and looked over Wanda’s shoulder to wave to the guy, looking confused as to why the girl he’d been talking to all night ran off. Before Wanda could leave James came back, empty hands leaving his pockets to wrap an arm around you.

Wanda took one look at James before a wicked smile grew, “love the lip gloss, what shade is that?” In an instant James covered his mouth, the crinkles around his eyes told you he found it as funny as Wanda did. James didn’t have anything to say back, obviously being caught. Wanda didn’t harp on it though, she just sipped her drink with a chuckle.

The night flew right past you, you had slowed down on your alcohol consumption but still held a decent buzz. After the moment in the basement it seemed James was stuck to you, and you weren’t complaining. If you were dancing, talking, or even moving from one room to another James was touching you in some way.

His hand rested on your hip for the majority of the evening. It was grounding to feel his side pressed to your shoulder, you felt protected in ways you never felt before. You hadn’t asked him to gently pull a strand off of your lip gloss and tuck it behind your ear, you didn’t tell him you wanted a hug everytime you came back from the washroom, he did it because he wanted to.

********

The walk to the cafe had never felt more stressful than it did right now. Flashes of the previous night caused a lull in your stomach, a slowly growing ball of stress.

Last night was too perfect, this morning you laid in bed and analyzed everything you could remember about the party. You hadn’t realized how long you had been staring at the ceiling, nit-picking every interaction you had with James. Even the thought of the kiss you shared in the basement caused a wave of nausea to hit you. You had sent him a text when you got home, he sent a quick reply.

This is definitely a fluke, you thought to yourself as the cafe entered your view, he just liked me because we were both drunk. Part of you didn’t know why you were so keen to go the next morning, maybe you should have stretched out the rejection; living in your fantasy for as long as possible.

With a deep breath you pulled the door open, cringing at the bell ringing; you had hoped for a stealthy entrance, maybe you could both go about pretending not to know each other.

There he was, barely anyone else was in the cafe at the time, he looked right at you. “Hey,” you said softly, eyes casted low.

“...hi,” James dipped his head to try to make eye contact, “y/n, what’s wrong?” His eyes widened in a fraction of a second, shooting him forward, “did I make you uncomfortable last night?” he whispered, placing his hand on the counter.

In shock your lips slightly parted, “I-um, yeah I’m okay-um,” you just shook your head, speechless. “I just thought this was going to be different.”

“How?”

With your eyes wide, you tried to find the words you wanted to say without sounding like an idiot, you hadn’t even entertained the idea of him genuinely liking you after one night out, especially when there was a steamy make-out session that wasn’t spoken about for the rest of the night.

“I-I genuinely thought you would regret yesterday, I don’t know why I- I just thought it was because we were drunk,” you fiddled with your hands as you spoke, not wanting to deal with this any longer.

“I need you to understand,” James spoke as he rounded the corner of the counter, taking your hand and pulling you to the back. “You come here all the time, you are consistent, you are a creature of habit.” James placed a hand on your shoulder, “almost everyday I think about when you’re coming, what you’re doing while you’re here, if your work is going smoothly, and if you get home safe. I always look at the door thinking it’s you walking in, okay?” He chuckled at the confession, “this is not because I was drunk, this was not because you were drunk. It’s simply because I like spending time with you, in fact, I love it now because I can actually get to know you; not just from your window seat.”

It came as a whisper, “okay,” slowly, you wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling him instantly pull you close. “I was really preparing for the worst, but I do really like you too, James,” you giggled after feeling him squeeze you tighter at the sentiment.

“I know your coffee order, my friends came and made fun of me in front of you,” he led you out of the back and began making your order, without you paying. “There are so many reasons this is not a fluke, okay?”

Taking your coffee into your hand, you quickly nodded. “Thank you, James,” you slightly lifted your cup to him, “maybe I can get you back for the muffin and coffee…” you tucked your chin to your neck, “maybe dinner would be the logical reimbursement…”

James just laughed, “I would love to get dinner with you, but you are sure as hell not paying on the first actual date,” he continued to laugh, “that’s just not happening.”

“Fine,” you took a seat at the bar, “you can pay for the first and I’ll pay for the second.”

James’ smirk grew, “sure, totally.”

“I’m serious,” you laughed, “let me pay for at least one!”

All it took was a knock-out smile, “you’ll pay on the one-thousandth date, and I am not keeping track.”

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x yn #bucky barnes fluff #college!bucky #bucky fluff #bucky barnes oneshots #bucky oneshots #bucky #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky fic #collegebucky fluff #college bucky fic #collegebucky oneshot

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ma1dita · 2 days

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do we have any sick!trouble and luke taking care of everything for her??(including her hehe🤭) if not then i’d like to think she would probably try to push herself through the day making sure camp doesn’t get set on fire bc older sister core! + dionysus probably dgaf 🤷🏻‍♀️ and maybe only luke noticing that she’s breaking out in a cold sweat and her movements a little more sluggish than usual but shes stubborn af so she refuses to rest

🐥

also ur works are crushing me jo they’re soo good😭💗

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

luke castellan x dionysus!reader

a/n: no trouble tags fuck it we ball! no edits either lmfao fluff :) can be a standalone just know reader is camp mom and Luke calls her trouble/slight cabin 12 mentions but not important (partners in crime series if you wanna check it out)

wc: 860

Luke doesn’t think he’s ever seen you be quiet.

Your voice is synonymous with the harmony of Camp Half-Blood in all of its forms: early morning announcements over the loudspeaker that serve as a wake-up call for campers to be ready for cabin inspections, hollow outcries to keep certain deviants in line (the Stolls and your brothers are a deadly force to be reckoned with), comforting words like kisses for scraped knees for the little ones, down to the gentle blanket of your singing at lights out. Luke also just knows by now that you love to have the last word—gods forbid someone else beat you at something you’re good at. Words always come easy when it comes to you (abilities of sons of Hermes aside) he finds out—but he can’t think of what can convince you to go back to bed today, especially with a temperature of 100.7 F.

He’s been circling you like a hawk this whole morning, not chastising (because clogged sinuses and all you’d probably fight him to your last breath), but rather helping out where he can. He swiftly double-checks counselor assignments once your puffy eyes leave the page, steers you away from walking straight into the fires of the forge instead of the exit at the armory, and waves off any bystanders who dare to get caught in the crosshairs of your bullheadedness.

In times like these, Luke’s almost grateful to be his father’s son (still a hard no, but you get the point). Doing these tasks undetected and mostly through a sleight of hand is better than worrying you even if he’s already at his wit's end; you’re quick in your own right too, body and brain separated today yet working on autopilot through a foggy sick-riddled mind. He hates leaving you like this even for a moment despite your protests of being able to handle yourself, but the two of you are spread thin today with all the work to do.

Luke finds you later after his workshop with your head against the cool stone of the climbing wall. You sniff into your sleeve, a wet sound stifled by the worn-down orange uniform you all wear, though yours looks as exhausted as you are, eyes closed and motionless even with lava slowly trickling from the top.

“Trouble? Are you okay babe? Grover fell off the wall already, you should… restart the mechanism,” he mutters, a big hand clasping at the nape of your neck like someone grabbing a kitten by its scruff.

“He’ll be fine, he’s a big boy,” you mumble with your face still attached to the rocks. “I’ve seen him climb over the Ares table for the last donut at lunchtime, molten lava and boulders should be a piece of cake.”

“At least cake is less painful and more delicious,” the satyr groans, hairs singed down to his hooves. Luke sighs, helping Grover back onto his feet for a well-deserved break.

“Babe…If you don’t move, sooner or later the lava’s gonna smother you.”

He shakes your arm since the controls are wedged between your body and the wall but it’s as if your body is bolted to the floor. A dissonant noise crawls out of your throat, “Dunno, kinda sounds nice. Maybe it’ll clear my sinuses.”

“Maybe it’s time to admit you’re sick.”

Even if he can’t see your face he knows there’s a scowl carved across it, “M’not sick. Just some allergies. I don’t get sick, Lu. Being sick is for the weak!” Lava continues to slide down the wall like molasses, inching you closer to a fate of fire— and your boyfriend watches you try to welcome it with weary arms.

“If you’re not sick, then I’m the best singer at Camp Half-Blood,” Luke drones as he crosses his arms. He can hear Percy laugh from the sidelines at that, silenced quickly by a glare.

“Now that would really clear her sinuses—even better if he dresses up for Theatrics again,” the son of Poseidon sniggers until a stray boulder comes barrelling towards where he and Grover are sitting. Everything’s suddenly less funny.

“It was one time, Jackson, and I wasn’t…” Luke sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Trouble was just mending a costume.”

“It’s okay Luke, not everyone can pull off a corset.”

“Grover, another word out of you man and I’ll make sure your legs are permanently hairless,” Luke grits, finally tired of the chit-chat and more focused on getting you to rest. In one quick movement, he sweeps you off your feet and over his shoulder while his other hand slams on the button to reset the gears of the climbing wall. A delayed reaction falters from your throat, something of a yelp and an exhale.

“Luke! Put me down!”

But he’s already off in the direction of Cabin 12 to get you settled under the covers for at least the rest of the day until you’re up and kicking again. Your protests are scratchy but loud as he takes you away from the two kids and it's as if everything is right in the world again.

“Remind me not to get a girlfriend that stubborn one day,” Percy mumbles, bumping shoulders with his best friend.

#jo's 23rd birthday bash ⋆｡°✩#trouble!verse #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan fluff #made by ma1dita ♥︎

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dominicfikue · 8 hours

Text

𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊! ... a matthew sturniolo series. 𓏲๋ 𓂃 — introduction.

ׄ ׅ ྀ PAIRING. asshole!matt & poc!popstar!fem!oc

headline. one year later— her career blooming, skin glowing with any and every one kneeling at her feet. yet here she is, craving him. missing him, even if he was the worst boyfriend she ever had. it seems like everything she tried to forget him, isnt working. there’s no other choice but to do what she does best; write a song.

✶ ׅ ࣪ look out for. ANGST ANGST! first half is a flashback (will be in italics). matt being a total asshat.. thats it i think

↳ heavily based on: get him back by olivia rodrigo.

𝟏𝟐:𝟎𝟎 𝐀𝐌. april 20th, 2024.

♡　＃　𓂃 the atmosphere in the living room was more than stuffy. harmony and matt had been going back and forth for about an hour, taking hurtful jabs at each other. arguments were never her thing but as of now, it was very much needed to get through to him. he got heated over the smallest things and deep down, it started to feel like he got a kick from it— seeing her cry and break down after he made a big deal over nothing. she just couldn’t take it anymore, take him.

“you bug me for everything else har, so why couldn’t you just tell me you were going out? especially with alexis.” he grumbles, blowing out angry air as he walks further into the kitchen. harmony sighs, sliding a hand down her face. she chose to ignore his attempt to shame her best friend, knowing he tried to make a move on her while harmony was out in boston, visiting family.

“for the ten thousandth time, i did tell you. i reminded you every day this week but you didn’t listen. then again, i’m not surprised.” she retorts, the need to be nice to keep his ego intact long, long gone. matt freezes, her words obviously getting to him. “and what’s that supposed to mean?” matt questions, turning around to face her.

“it means.. you only listen to me when it concerns you, matt. you don’t care about me anymore and i realize that now. i-i mean, when i told you i finally got the singing gig i’ve been dreaming of, you didn’t congratulate me. didn’t even say you were proud.” harmony stumbles over her words slightly, tears boiling in her waterline.

a scoff of disbelief leaves the brunettes lips as he rests his elbows on the kitchen island. “i have my own shit to worry about, harmony. so, my apologies if i’m not jumping and screaming over some gig.” he says sarcastically, his eyes focused on the marble.

if someone told her last summer that this is what her relationship would be like, she would have laughed in their face. harmony stares at him, the tears streaming down as she shakes her head. harmony finally realizes that this argument is getting the pair absolutely nowhere. stressing herself out to make him love her wasn’t an option anymore.

“get out.” she sobs, walking towards the front door and opening it wide. matt’s energy quickly changes, his once cold demeanor now apologetic. “wait baby. c’mon, we can talk this out. it was just a petty argument, i didn’t mean it. ” his voice soft and light, as if he was trying to persuade her into letting him stay. not this time. she had put her foot down.

“matthew. please, just leave, okay? don’t make this harder than it already is.” harmony mutters, loud enough for him to hear. the two stare at each other, waiting for someone to say something. when no one does, matt grabs his car keys and walks to the door. before walking out, he stops in his tracks. “is…is it over? are we over?” he questions, his head hung low. harmony looks away, the lights suddenly entertaining.

“yeah.” she says. a defeated sigh leaves matt as he nods, his feet carrying him outside to his car. harmony almost immediately closes the door behind her, her loud cries echoing throughout her apartment. she knew this was the best thing for her but at the same time, he was her everything. she hopes that with this weight lifted from her shoulders, she’ll be able to be the best she’s ever been.

𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓.

♡　＃　𓂃 and boy, was she right. two months after the break up, she released her first album with the help of her lovely best friends, gabriella & francis and it went crazy. the entire world knew her name, loved her music and she couldn’t help but be happy now. or at least, she felt like she was.

truth be told, she never fully got over him. of course, she had flings and one night stands but they weren’t matt. even though he treated her terribly, the early stages of their relationship was like heaven. she misses it. she misses him. she wanted him back.

“earth to harmony… hello?!” gabriella exclaims, waving her hand in front of her face. harmony snaps out of her daze, blinking at the girl next to her. “hm.. yeah? what’s up?” she asks, confused on when and how her friends got here.

“what’s up? jesus, har. you gotta stop smoking weed! i was asking if you wrote anything yet?” gabi questions, looking at the closed notebook resting in harmony’s lap. her eyes follow gabi’s, a bright lightbulb going off in her head. she knew exactly what she was gonna write a song about.

“not yet, but i might have an idea.” harmony gleams, a grin spreading across her face.

solai speaks. intro to my matt series.. how we feeling????? i’m so excited you have no idea. still debating on making a cast post so u can see the faceclaims soooo :p. plz reblog n comment it would srsly mean the world to me <3.

taglist. @fawnchives @prettyvyll @trickywritters @breeloveschris @gnxosblog @khxna @firexovni @tylerstacobell @ivonchetooo1239 @bernardsgf @dracoflaco @strniolo @paibey @hearts4chriss @sturniololo @rootbeerworshiper @tillies33ssss @katluckybear @realuvrrr @junnniiieee07 @ireadstoriss @summerssover

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aflame4goinghome · 2 days

Text

Come Down Soon

j.m.k x reader

(part two to Head First)

a/n: Hey everyone! It's been a while. Inspiration for the closure of this short story came to me recently, so I've finally been able to write it and get it to you all! I'm really proud of how their little story turned out. I hope you like it.

word count: 10.5k

warnings: THIS STORY CONTAINS SMUT! MINORS DNI!!! swearing, drinking, smoking, angst, arguing, fluff; SMUT: kissing, sexually explicit language, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, spanking, choking, slight biting, tiny bit of breeding kink if you squint, soft dom josh <3

part one

“ Something here

I’m biding time ‘til it disappears

Oh, it’ll come down soon ”

*:·.·:**:·.·:**:·.·:**:·.·:*༺˚ ⊹♫⊹ ˚༻*:·.·:**:·.·:**:·.·:**:·.·:*

APRIL 2024 – 5 YEARS LATER

You wake up to your alarm wailing in your ear, shaking you awake. Fuck, you think to yourself. I really need to stop going out on weeknights. You roll out of bed and quickly get ready in the bathroom, coming to terms with the fact that you’ll be late for work. Luckily for you, your boss is your father, so you don’t have anything to worry about.

You’re still in Frankenmuth, working for your dad at the music store, your life staying as consistent as ever. But it was comfortable, and comfortable is exactly what you need. A few years back, you got a business degree with hopes of taking over the business for your dad after he retires. Your younger brother wasn’t as into music as the two of you are, only playing guitar every once in a while. He moved to Chicago three years ago to go to Northwestern to study economics, leaving you here to take over the family business one day. That’s still a solid five or ten years away, but you’re prepared. You already practically run the place, working from open to close every single day.

This didn’t bother you. You were perfectly content with that being your life. You loved music and you loved teaching it, so you were happy, truly. But every once in a while, your mind would wander to the ideas of what could have been, and you get stuck there. You hated when your mind would wander there, to him. It sent a sickening feeling throughout your entire body and you would be stuck, frozen in time. Frozen in the past.

Sitting back in your chair behind the counter in the empty music store, you start to doze off. On a random Tuesday morning like this, hardly anyone ever comes in. It’s way busier in the early evenings and on the weekends, but someone had to be here. You usually have another worker come in around 3 pm, but it’s only you until then on weekdays.

You feel your head start to fall heavily to the side and you’re so lost in your exhaustion that you don’t hear the chime of the bells on the door jingle. You don’t hear the silent figure approaching the counter, watching you curiously as you breathe slow, long breaths through your slightly open mouth. But you’re suddenly jolted awake when the mystery figure taps the little bell on the counter and your head swiftly rushes upright, making you hit it harshly against the wall behind you.

“Fuck!” you exclaim, raising your hand to rub soft circles against the back of your head where you hit it against the hard plaster. As you start to recalibrate yourself, your eyes finally fall onto the figure in front of you who was responsible for the bell. “Sam? Is that you?” The tall man in front of you smiles widely, his dimples appearing at the ends of his mustache.

“In the flesh,” Sam smiles confidently, leaning his long arms onto the counter. “Hi, Smalls. Long time, no see.” You roll your eyes at the old nickname, standing up from your chair to round the counter and greet him.

“You really don’t have to call me that anymore, Sam. We’re grown now, you know,” you joke, bringing him in for a tight hug. He chuckles above you, patting your back lightly.

“You’ll always be Smalls to me, no matter how old we are,” he teases, rustling your hair on the top of your head playfully.

“You’re an idiot. What the hell are you doing here? Aren’t you guys a little too big now for this town?” you ask, releasing him from the hug and leaning your back against the counter. He slots his hands in his front pockets with a laugh as he starts to answer.

“We’re really not all that,” he says modestly, looking down at his feet before looking back up to your gaze.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Sam. You guys are selling out arenas left and right… you’ve big-timed us for sure,” you answer with a playful scoff. He just shrugs, avoiding talking too much about their success.

“Whatever. We’re just here to visit Mom and Dad for a while before this next leg of the tour, that’s all. It’s a long one, so they wanted to see us.” You nod, fiddling with your fingers.

“So, you’re all here? All three of you?” you ask apprehensively, slightly afraid of what you know the answer will be. He rubs his hand on the back of his neck nervously, then nods.

“Yeah, we’re all here. Jake and Josh are back at home, they sent me out to go to the grocery store for a few things. Clearly, I got sidetracked…” he says, chuckling at the end. You smile and laugh with him– Sam could never complete an errand without getting distracted somehow.

“I see… well, it’s good to see you. You’ve really grown up, I’m proud of you,” you say with a smile, crossing your arms as you lean back against the counter.

“Thanks, Smalls… It’s really nice to see you, I’ve missed you,” he says earnestly, walking a bit closer to you. “We all have.” That sentence cut straight through to the heart. God, you didn’t think this would be so hard.

You’d successfully managed to evade interaction with them each time they’ve come into town over the years, but now you couldn’t avoid it. It’s been four years since you’d last spoken to Sam Kiszka, or any of them for that matter. You didn’t cut them all off intentionally, but it just happened in the aftermath.

“Right, I… I’ve missed you too,” you say hesitantly, backing away to go back behind the counter.

“Y/N, I think my parents would really like it if you came by for dinner tonight. It would be nice, just like old times,” he says, looking down at you hopefully. Great, exactly what you’ve been dreading.

“Oh, I really don’t know, Sam. I don’t think Josh would…” you trail off, looking down at your feet.

“Look, I’m not entirely sure about what happened between you two, but please. Please come to dinner. It’s been years, I’m sure he’s over it,” he pleads. You’re not too sure about that, but they don’t know the full story. “I promise, Smalls. Just think about it. My number is still the same as before, just send me a text after your shift ends and let me know what you decide, okay?”

Shit. He never makes it easy to say no to him. The puppy-dog eyes still work on his 25-year-old face, the same as they did when he was 18. You were no match for it, and he knew it, too.

“Okay. Okay, fine, I’ll think about it,” you concede, exhaustion coating your voice. “But no promises, alright?” His face lights up with an eager nod. He reaches over the counter and pokes your nose with his pointer finger, eliciting a giggle out of you as he smiles then turns around toward the door.

“Okay, Smalls, I’ve got some shopping to do. See you later!” he yells opening the door and walking out of the store.

God, this was going to be a long day. It wasn’t at all like how you expected it to be. You went through the rest of your shift worrying about the worst-case scenario of how dinner could go down tonight. Before you know it, it’s already 3 o’clock, and your dad walks through the doors.

“Dad? What are you doing here? I thought Parker was supposed to be coming in tonight,” you ask as he approaches the counter. He shrugs, heading to the office behind the counter and setting his stuff down on his desk.

“He called out sick, so I just decided to come in for him,” he says casually, slipping a sweatshirt on over his head. You nod, your mind trailing back to your current predicament.

“Did you know that the Kiszkas were in town?” you ask, looking over at him. His eyes shift guiltily as he approaches you.

“Yeah… I caught Kelly outside on the porch the other day and he told me about it. I’m sorry that I didn’t warn you about it. Didn’t want to upset you,” he admits, rubbing your shoulder softly.

“It’s okay, Dad. I’m fine,” you say, lying through your teeth. If anyone understood how you felt about your fallout with Josh, it was your dad. He was there for you through it all, as you tried to bury your feelings by working endless shifts at the shop. He says it never gave him any bias, but you know that secretly, he felt differently about Josh since that day. No matter what, he was always on your side.

“Sam came in here this morning. Asked me to come to dinner at their house after work,” you admit, fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt.

“Oh. Are you going to go?” he asks apprehensively. You look up at him and see the concern in his eyes.

“Uh, yeah. I think I will. Sam really wants me to and… it’s been four years. We’ll have to get over it some time. Might as well be now,” you say, trying to seem as sure as possible, despite how unsure you actually felt. Your dad raised you to be strong, and you wanted to be that person for him.

“Okay, if you’re sure,” he says, offering a reassuring smile. You nod with a smile.

“Why don’t you just head out now, hon? I can handle the rest of the night. You just go home and get ready for dinner,” he offers, not giving you any time to protest before he walks off to do inventory in the back of the store. You shrug to yourself and decide to just go home, grabbing your tote from the office and heading out to the front of the store to your car parked in the front space.

The store is only a ten-minute drive from home, so you’re back before you know it. You pull into the driveway then gather your things, heading inside. You walk in to find your mother in the kitchen, cooking some dinner.

“Hi baby, how was work?” she asks, turning around to face you.

“It was alright, pretty slow,” you say, stopping in the kitchen to talk for a moment.

“I talked to your brother today, he should be coming home in a few weeks after finals are over,” she says, stirring the food in the pot as she talks.

“Oh, that’s cool. That should be nice,” you remark, your mind wandering, making you unable to entertain the conversation much more, so she changes the subject.

“Are you hungry? I’m making some pasta with vodka sauce right now if you want some,” she asks. You weren’t sure how you’d explain this situation to her, but you have to.

“Actually… I’m going to the Kiszkas for dinner,” you answer quietly. She stops stirring in her pot and looks at you, her eyes drooping just like your dad’s did not long ago.

“Oh! That’s quite a surprise,” she answers honestly, her face feigning excitement but her eyes give her away.

“Mom, it’s fine. I’m fine. Seriously, it’s no big deal,” you answer, trying to convince yourself as well as her. She gives you a small smile and nods, and you take your leave up the stairs to your bedroom. Over the years, you’ve renovated the large attic in your parent’s house so that you had more of your own space away from them in your adulthood, while still living at home. It’s been nice and quite private, you’ve really made it your own.

As you set your bag down on the floor and sit down on your bed, your mind travels back in time to the last time you saw Josh Kiszka. You still wonder where it all went wrong. It was perfect, truly perfect– until it wasn’t. The worst part about it is that it was nobody’s fault, there was no one to blame. You wondered for years if it was just the right person but the wrong time, but those delusions soon faded away as the years progressed and you still never heard from him. He’d moved on, and so had you.

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JUNE 2020

“I just don’t understand why you won’t just come with us! You’d be perfect there– I need you there!” Josh shouted, slamming his hands down on the counter in frustration as you leaned your back against the kitchen counter, keeping your head low.

“Josh, it isn’t that fucking easy! I can’t just pick up and leave! I have responsibilities here! My job, my family!” you yelled with your head in your hands.

The band made plans to move to Nashville, Tennessee by the end of the month, hoping to record their music there instead. Their success had shot up significantly since the two of you got together, with money pouring in and new music being recorded left and right. You knew they’d outgrow you and this town, but you didn’t think it would happen this soon.

He begged you to come with him, insisting that you could find a job down there and live with him and Jake, but that wasn’t what you wanted. You made a commitment to your father, having started online business classes with UMich in January with hopes to someday run the shop yourself. Josh knew that, but he insisted that you come with him.

“Don’t you think I’m making sacrifices here, too? I don’t want to have to leave my parents, but it’s our destiny, Saph! This is what I’m meant to do, I thought you’d understand that,” he groaned, shaking his head angrily. Tears start to fill your waterline as you struggle to get your words out.

“Of course I understand! I’ve always believed in you, you know that! Since day one, I’ve supported you!” you yelled as the tears started to escape from your eyes. “You know we’ve always had different goals, this town has always been my whole life. And you’ve always been destined for more. I knew that from the start.”

“If you know that this is what I’m destined to do, then why can’t you just come with me?” he asked with a sigh, rubbing his temples.

“Josh, I love you. I love you more than anything I’ve ever loved in my entire life,” you said, tears spilling down your face. “But this is your dream, not mine.” You watch as his eyes start to water, mirroring yours. His face drops as the realization kicks in.

“So, that’s it then? You’re just giving up? You’re giving up on us?” Josh asked accusingly, stepping closer to you, but you backed away.

“I’m not giving up, Josh. But we want different things,” you answered honestly, your voice shaky.

“All I want is you, Saph. I love you so much. Please,” he said, his eyes pooling with tears. He stepped forward once more, reaching his arms to your waist and attempting to pull you closer. “Please just come with us.” You shook your head, backing up more.

“I’m sorry. I can’t,” you said, looking into his eyes as they filled with despair.

“You’re breaking my heart, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracking. Your heart sank.

“And you’re breaking mine,” you answered, taking one last look at him before turning around and heading toward the back door in the kitchen, yanking it open and rushing out. As you rushed home, you wiped the tears from your eyes, not wanting your parents to see you that way. And that was it. That was the last time you saw Josh Kiszka.

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CURRENT DAY

Deep breaths, Y/N, you tell yourself as you look at yourself in your bathroom mirror. You pull your hair back half-up, putting the small section of hair into a little bun that sits on the back of your head. You pull a few front pieces out to frame your face and then pull a brush through the rest of your long, wavy hair. You’ve got this.

You throw on a grey flannel over the cropped tee you were wearing, which contrasts well with your distressed dark grey jeans. You slide on your Converse and then sit down on your bed to check your phone.

Sammy: Hey, Smalls. Did you think about gracing up with your presence at dinner tonight?

You breathe out a quiet laugh and shake your head at his sarcasm as you type your reply.

You: Don’t get your panties in a twist, Samuel. I’ll be there.

It doesn’t even take a minute for him to respond.

Sammy: Knew you’d come around. Come over around six?

You slide down on your screen to check the time — 5:28 pm. Okay, you still have some time.

You: See you then.

You fiddle with your fingers as you sit on your bed, waiting for the appropriate time to go downstairs and walk next door. The entire situation stressed you out beyond belief. You’re not sure how you managed to get yourself into this mess in the first place, you had done such a good job at avoiding them when they’d come to town for the past four years. But now, it was unavoidable.

How is Josh going to react? After you left that day, he left you dozens upon dozens of voicemails and text messages, all of which you ignored. After a week of trying to get you to talk to him, he eventually relented. He gave up. At the time, it stung somehow. You didn’t understand it, you wanted him to leave you alone and let you both move on, so why did it hurt so bad when he finally did? It was all so complicated and screwed up. You just hope that he isn’t still upset with you after all this time.

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JOSH POV

“Josh, honey,” your mom says from the kitchen, making you turn your head to look at her. “Could you turn that movie off? It’s almost time for dinner.” You nod and take your feet off of the coffee table, reaching for the remote, and reluctantly turning the TV off. No matter how old you got, you still always helped your mom with dinner. It was a tradition at this point, as silly as it sounded.

“Boys, it’s almost dinner time!” she yells, trying to get your bothers’ attention from the garage, which had a door connecting to the kitchen. You hear muffled ‘okay’s from behind the door and soon enough, your brothers emerge from the garage and storm the kitchen.

You get up from the couch and watch as Sam walks over to the dining room to set the table and Jake opens the fridge and takes out a bottle of white wine to drink with dinner. You decide to enter the kitchen and help her transfer the food to the serving dishes.

“Oh, Mom,” Sam starts from the dining room as he gathers the folded napkins from the pantry. “I forgot to tell you earlier, I stopped into the music store today on my way to get groceries. Y/N was there.”

Your movements come to a halt as you hear the words fall from his mouth. How could he just bring her up so casually? You quickly try to shake it off. It’s been four years, it’s nothing. You probably won’t even have to see her, anyway. You’ve gone this long without running into her, anyway, probably by her own doing.

“That’s nice, sweetie. How is she doing?” your mom asks kindly as she hands you an empty dish to transfer the pierogis into. You take the dish into your hands and walk over to an empty counter space to set it down.

“She’s good! I actually invited her to come to dinner tonight,” Sam said nonchalantly with a shrug.

“What?” you exclaim instinctually, your mouth agape as you stare daggers into your little brother. Before you even realize what’s happening, you’re startled by the sound of the dish you were holding falling onto the ground and shattering into pieces. You didn’t even feel yourself drop it. “Oh God, Ma I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I’ll go get the broom, don’t go anywhere.”

You shake your head and curse under your breath as you rush down the basement steps to grab the broom and quickly run back up to the kitchen. As you clean up your mess, you listen silently to the conversation, too embarrassed by your behavior to say anything else.

“I feel like I haven’t seen Y/N in ages,” you hear your twin remark from behind you, leaning against the wall, crossing his arms. He needs to wipe that smug look off of his face before you do something drastic.

“I know, it has been a long time. It’ll be nice to catch up, won’t it, honey?” your mom asks sweetly, turning over her shoulder to look at you with an encouraging smile.

She knows every single detail about what went down between you and Y/N four years ago. She was here to pick up the pieces. Jake, not so much. While she was there comforting you, your twin was just blinded by his ambition. All he cared about was how great Nashville was going to be, for the both of you.

“You don’t need Y/N, Josh. You have us. We’re your family,” Jake said apathetically as the two of you packed up your things. You just scoffed, shaking your head as you folded your clothes and placed them into your bags.

“That’s not the point, Jake. I really wanted her there, and now I don’t know who I am without her,” you admitted, not looking up from your bags in hopes of not catching Jake’s sharp glare.

“You’re Josh fucking Kiszka, lead singer of a band that’s going to make it BIG, that’s who you are,” Jake said confidently, patting your back. “We’re only just getting started, brother. Mark my words. Years from now, you’re not even going to remember her name.”

He just didn’t get it. Your other half always had an easier time with everything: getting girls, getting over girls, and everything in between. Nothing fazed him. It wasn’t that easy for you. You’re a writer, for God’s sake. An artist. You were nothing without a muse.

“Just make your own muse then,” your brother had said.

And that’s just what you did. Once the four of you got to Nashville, all you cared about was the music. You didn’t let yourself get distracted– no girls, no guys, nobody. Just you and your notebook and your dream. And it’s worked like magic ever since, you didn’t need anybody else besides your brothers and this band. The news of her coming back into your life has now set you back to four years ago, like nothing has changed. But everything has.

“I don’t know, Mom. I don’t think she’s gonna want to talk to me, after everything…” you trail off, turning your back against your family as you try to focus on the task at hand.

“I still don’t understand what even happened, Josh,” Sam says, rolling his eyes. Of course, he didn’t get it either. He was always fond of her, you assumed he had a small crush on her for most of his childhood. Whatever that was has surely passed on by now, but Sam was always protective over her. He was your brother, at the end of the day, so of course he was on your side. But you always knew that he was sad over her absence, deep down.

“We were just different people, Sam. It wasn’t meant to be, that’s all. It doesn’t matter now,” you mutter, not looking up from the floor as you finish sweeping.

“If it doesn’t matter now, then why would she still be upset with you?” Sam asks, frustration coating his voice. “When I talked to her earlier, she seemed to think that you wouldn’t want to talk to her.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, not sure what else to say. Why on Earth would she possibly think you could still be upset with her after all these years? You couldn't admit it then, blinded by young love and all the firsts you shared. But you knew it was for the best, in the end. She didn’t want to leave, and you couldn’t make her.

You were glad that she let you go when she did, rather than moving with you and growing to resent you. She wanted to stay, and you needed to go. You’ve come to terms with it. Do you still think about her every now and then? Sure. The what-ifs do tend to creep in at night sometimes, but you always quickly shove them down. You have no room for what-ifs in your life right now. Things are really starting to pick up with the band, with your world tour and impending new music that you’ll be teasing any month now. The last thing you needed right now was to worry about the one that got away.

“Just try and talk to her, okay? It can’t hurt,” Sam says, walking past you to go sit on the couch now that he’s finished setting the dinner table. Yes, it can, you think to yourself, knowing better than to actually say it out loud. You just simply nod, grabbing a new dish and transferring the food over.

“Okay. I’ll talk to her,” you concede, covering the food with aluminum foil and then walking over to the dining table to place it down in the center. You run your fingers through your hair nervously as you walk back to the kitchen and finish helping your mom plate the rest of the food.

You hear your dad walk in through the front door and he enters the kitchen, kissing your mom on the cheek before going to sit on the couch with Sam. You watch as he reaches for the remote and turns the TV on, switching the channel to put on what seems like the hockey game.

“Hey, I was watching something there! Now I’m going to lose my place!” you scold, walking toward the living room and leaning against the wall.

“Josh, you were watching Silence of the Lambs for the millionth time, I don’t think you need to worry about losing your place,” Jake teases, walking into the living room to sit on the armchair and recline.

“Yeah, Josh. C’mon, the Red Wings are on, it’s almost playoffs,” Sam says matter-of-factly. You hear your dad chuckle at the banter, turning the volume up. Traitor.

“No! No more TV, Y/N will be here any minute now. You four are unbelievable,” your mom scoffs from the kitchen, shaking her head as she finishes preparing the food. Your brothers groan loudly and your dad reaches to turn the TV off. You swallow deeply as you wait nervously for Y/N to arrive. You don’t know what to expect, and that scares you. Maybe it’s because you were the oldest, or maybe it’s because you have a Cancer Moon, but you like being able to predict what will happen next. Now, all of that was completely out of your hands.

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YOUR POV

5:56 pm. Time to go, you suppose. You really don’t know what to expect, but Sam reassured you that everything will be fine. In all honesty, it wasn’t the possibility of Josh being upset with you that worried you. You were worried that, the second you saw him, your entire world would cave in. You were worried that you would just want to fall into his arms and apologize for everything you said.

But you knew that you couldn’t do that, you can’t. He’s come too far now to be pulled down by you. He seemed truly happy and successful, who were you to come waltzing back into his life and tear it all up? No. You had to be strong. For Josh, and for yourself.

As you approach the Kiszka’s porch, you take one last deep breath before laying a few soft knocks on the front door. You hear jostling behind the door and a distant “I’ll get it, I’ll get it!” before the door finally swings open with Sam’s wide grin greeting you.

“Honored guest! Welcome!” he exclaims, reaching out to grab your arm and pull you inside, shutting the door behind you. Your eyes scan the room as you enter, smiling at Sam’s antics before the inevitable happens. First, you see Kelly and Jake sitting in the living room, turning over their shoulders to look at you. But as your eyes drift to the kitchen ahead of you, you see him.

You knew it was too late to turn back now, despite the strong urge to leave now while you still can. But you can’t run away, not this time. You watch as his posture shifts when he feels your eyes on him, straightening his back as he leans against the wall. Your eyes soften as you take it in, almost unsure of where to start.

He looked so different. Yet somehow, as you looked at him, it still felt familiar. You thought that you would feel uncomfortable or unwelcome, but no. You feel safe.

His hair was styled much differently now, his fluffy, curly hair now shaved short on the sides of his head. His cheeks were still as rosy as ever, adorned with little white dots along the cheekbones. You like it, you decide. He always knew how to stand out.

His once bare face was now decorated with a dark mustache and goatee, much like Sam had, but not nearly as long. Josh’s was more clean and precise. Just like him.

He’s wearing a plain white t-shirt with the sleeves rolled slightly. You can see that his arms have gotten bigger since the last time you saw him, which didn’t surprise you. The boy you once knew truly grew into a man, standing in front of you.

They all had. Jake looked so different, with his hair sitting right on his shoulder, sporting some facial hair of his own. He looked more serious now, which wasn’t a bad thing. You should feel proud, but all you feel is regret that you weren’t there to see it.

“Hi,” you say shyly, already beating yourself up on the inside for it. Just hi, seriously? That’s how you want to start? Jake gets up from the armchair on your right to approach you, reaching out to pat your arm supportively.

“It’s great to see you again, Y/N,” he says with a closed-lip smile. “Do you want a drink? I was just about to open this bottle of Chardonnay that I picked out for dinner, if you’re interested.” You nod and follow him to the kitchen, passing Josh on your way there.

His eyes follow you as you walk into the kitchen. You don’t say anything at first, but as Jake works to open the bottle of wine, you decide to work up the courage.

“Hey…” you start, walking over to him as he shifts his body, turning to face you with his back against the wall.

“Hey, Y/N,” he answers, slipping his hands into his front pockets nervously. Ouch. You weren’t necessarily expecting him to use your nickname, it’s been years since you saw each other and the nickname itself was rooted in his feelings for you. But hearing your real name fall from his mouth still cut like a knife. You suppose that if you wanted him to use your nickname, you’d have to earn it.

“You look good,” you say, fiddling with your fingers in front of you as you look behind you to see if Jake has opened that wine bottle yet. God knows you’ll need it. Josh’s eyes drop suddenly at your words, almost as though he didn’t expect it. Fuck, why did you say that? Making him upset certainly wasn’t your intention when you gave the compliment, you just didn’t know what else to say. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that– stupid…” you start apologizing, but he stops you.

“No, no, it’s okay. I was just taken aback, that’s all,” he says honestly, concern covering his face. He’s still as empathetic as he always was. You knew he would be, you don’t know why you’d expected anything else. “So do you. You look… radiant.” Before you can let him see your cheeks flush, you turn around as Jake extends his arm to hand you a very full glass of wine.

“Jeez, that’s one heavy poor, Kiszka,” you joke, taking a short sip of the wine before leaning your back against the wall opposite of Josh. The younger twin chuckles at your words, taking a sip out of his own glass before answering.

“Hey, I figured you could use a little extra. What’s the harm?” he says with a shrug, leaning against the kitchen counter. You smile at him, looking at him as the two of you exchange a silent look. It’s clear that he knows how tense this might be for you, and you feel grateful for that. Maybe this dinner wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Karen descends the stairs and walks into the kitchen, calling everyone to the dinner table. She greets you, of course, expressing how glad she is to see you after so long. You really did feel guilty over abandoning the rest of the Kiszkas when you and Josh had your falling out. They were like a second family to you throughout your entire childhood, so you missed them so much.

The boys rushed to the dinner table, clearly starving from the looks of it. Obviously, they all had their own “assigned” seats around the table, with Josh and Jake sitting next to each other, with Sam sitting across from Jake. The seat across from Josh was probably reserved for their sister, Ronnie, but she wasn’t here, so you suppose that seat’s for you. Timidly, you approach the seat and sit down, looking at Josh quickly before averting your eyes and watching as their parents take their own seats.

Dinner itself actually went really well. Karen asked you questions about your life recently, and you talked about your brother going to college, as well as your own business degree and your plans to run the shop. Josh kept mostly to himself, eating his dinner silently while sneaking glances every now and then when he thought you weren’t looking.

You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, though, and that made you feel uneasy. Was he uncomfortable with you being there? Did he want you to leave? Or was it possible that he wanted to talk things out? You hoped for the latter, wanting to at least give both of you some closure. You were hopeful that he wanted that, too.

Before long, Karen was coming around the table to gather the dirty dishes. As she approached your seat, you pushed your chair back and stood up.

“Here, Karen, let me help,” you say, picking up your own plate, along with Sam’s. She thanks you, and the two of you walk to the kitchen together to put the dishes in the sink.

“Do you want to dry them once I’m done washing them?” she asks, and you nod eagerly. You get into a rhythm soon enough, finishing the dishes in only a little over five minutes. “I like having a helper around here. These boys always get so lazy after they’re done eating.”

“Tell me about it,” you answer with a laugh. “I used to have to drag Josh up off the couch to go anywhere after we’d had a meal.” The memory was fond but fleeting as you gaze into the dining room to see Josh’s eyes locked on you. Shit, you probably shouldn’t have brought it up. His attention was soon drawn back to his brothers as Jake snapped his fingers at him, trying to get him back into whatever conversation they were having.

“It really is nice to have you back here, Y/N,” Karen admits with a soft smile. You return it with a gentle nod and she retreats to the living room to sit and watch the rest of the hockey game with Kelly. You stand there for a moment alone before you look over to see the boys getting up from the table.

“We’re gonna go jam in the garage for a bit. Might be good to get our creative juices flowing in the place where it all started,” Jake says, nodding his head to his brothers as he walks over to the door to the garage.

Sam quickly follows with Josh behind him, who stops at the door and turns to you both. Your eyes lock for a moment before he looks behind him at the garage, then back at you, seeming a bit conflicted.

“Hey, I’ll be in a little later. You guys start without me,” Josh says to them, with his eyes still on you. They were searching for something on your face, some sort of sign. You caught on rather quickly, walking toward him to reach for the door to the back porch, opening it apprehensively. You step out onto the porch and he follows, shutting the door softly behind him.

You walk to the porch swing on the far side of the porch, patting the cushion next to you to tell Josh to sit next to you. You sit in silence for a few moments, unsure where to begin. You open your mouth to start to speak, but Josh beats you to it.

“So, you come here often?” he jokes, looking down at you with a smirk. You giggle and look down at your feet, the cliche successfully breaking the ice.

“As a matter of fact, I do. I live right over there, you see,” you say smartly, pointing to your house behind you. A laugh erupts deep from Josh’s chest as he looks over at you with a genuine smile– something that you haven’t seen in so long. It almost felt normal, all of this, in that moment. Almost.

“You don’t say,” Josh answers with a grin as he reaches into the back pocket of his pants. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a red lighter, pulling one out of the pack.

“Cigarette?” he offers, stretching his hand out to you with it between his fingers. Your eyes travel from his hand to his face, looking back at him with an awkward smile.

“Oh, I don’t smoke,” you say honestly, your cheeks flushing with a bit of embarrassment as he smiles at you awkwardly, sucking air between his teeth.

“I knew that,” he says, retracting his hand and placing the cigarette between his lips. You laugh, the idea of knowing each other so well but also not at all feeling terribly ironic. He knew you, once. He knew what you used to be. But the girl you were at 22 was very different than you are now at 27, in more ways than one. For better or for worse, you’ve changed, and so has he.

Was it possible to get to know the new version of him? Did he want you to know him? Do you want him to know you? At this moment, sitting on the back porch in the same spot that you sat in for most of your youth, you believe that you did want to know him, and him you. Did he want that too?

Josh lights his cigarette quickly and then slides the pack and lighter back into his pocket, taking a drag before resting his hand on his knee and looking back at you. Why were you so intimidated to say anything? It was just Josh, the same Josh you once loved. Once. What were you so afraid of?

“I almost didn’t come tonight,” you finally admit, leaning your arm onto the back of the swing as you shift your body toward him. He raises his eyebrows at your honesty, shifting his body toward you in return.

“Why did you?” he asks honestly, searching your face for an answer. You weren’t sure what the answer even was, but you tried nonetheless.

“Honestly? I’m not quite sure,” you say, fidgeting with your hair. “I think part of me hoped to get some closure. Another part just wanted things to go back to the way they used to be.” You didn’t expect yourself to put it all out in the open like that, but you realize that the large glass of wine loosened your lips more than you thought it would.

“Things can’t go back to the way they used to be,” Josh says quietly, taking another drag of his cigarette and blowing it the other way. Your eyes shifted to your lap nervously.

“I know. You’re right,” you whisper, now avoiding his gaze. You sit silently for a moment before he finally speaks up.

“You’re happy here?” he asks, giving you time to respond. You finally look up at him and his eyes soften as your eyes meet, the same soft eyes you’ve always known. A dark brown color in the darkness of the spring night, only catching the light every once in a while when he turned toward the porch light.

“I am, I think…” you answer, almost hesitantly. He nods silently. “Are you? Happy there? Is it everything you hoped it would be?” He pauses for a moment, seemingly collecting his thoughts.

“Yes, I’m happy there,” he admits, biting his lip slightly as he ponders his next thought. “But is it everything I hoped it would be? Not so much.” Your eyes fall sadly at his words, inching a bit closer.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Josh,” you say, rubbing his arm softly. He flinches slightly at your touch, making you retreat entirely, scooching back to the other side of the bench. He takes another drag of his cigarette and shakes his head.

“It’s just a bit lonely. It’s only work there, no play,” he says softly. “I love the music, don’t get me wrong. I’m making the kind of art I always wanted to make. I just hate doing it alone.”

Oh. He isn’t over it. That much was clear. You can’t help but feel responsible for his suffering. But you knew you weren’t, this wasn’t your fault. You were never meant to move down there, it wasn’t right.

“You’re not alone. You have your brothers, you have friends,” you say supportively, hoping to steer the subject further from the harsh truth. He shakes his head again, taking an extra long drag from his cigarette.

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” he says, a bit of frustration hanging on his tone. When he catches it, he shakes it off. “Look, it doesn’t matter really. Forget I said anything.” You nod, looking over at him to find that his eyes are already on you.

Music starts to pour out of the open windows of the garage behind you, startling you a bit. You could hear Sam’s keyboard and Jake’s guitar playing a song that sounded familiar to you, but you weren’t sure why. It must be one of theirs. Surely you heard it in one of their practices all those years ago.

“What’s this one called?’ you ask, referencing the song coming from the garage. Josh’s lips tweak into a small smile as he answers you.

“It’s Heat Above. It’s from our second record,” he says. You nod slowly, recognizing the name.

“I think I know that one,” you say with a timid smile.

“You listened to the album?” he asks with slight surprise. You nod again, inching a bit closer once more.

“Of course I did. Listened to the new one, too,” you admit, fiddling with your fingers in your lap. When you look back up at Josh, he’s smiling widely.

“You listen to our music,” he says proudly. You return the smile and look back down at your lap, hoping to avoid him seeing the blush that’s started to cover your cheeks.

“Sometimes, yeah…” you mumble, “You know I always loved hearing you guys play. That never changed.”

“I just thought you might’ve avoided it… like you have us,” he says, which forces you to look back up at him. Here we are again, back to this topic.

“I wasn’t avoiding you…” you start, but he gives you a stern look. “Okay, fine. Maybe I was. But I just wanted to give you some space, you were really upset with me when you left. I didn’t want to rehash it all.” The closed-lip smile on his face as his dimples caved in was enough to catch your breath in your throat.

“You didn't have to avoid me, Saph… I was fine. I was handling it on my own,” he says softly. There it was. The nickname– finally. You still don’t feel like you’d earned it, but it was clear that he was growing soft on you. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t spark up the butterflies in your stomach that you thought were long gone.

Comfortable silence fills the air as you look over at him, only inches away from you. As you sit together on the porch swing, the same one that you used to sit on together every summer, you can’t help but feel your heart swell in your chest.

His eyes drift downward every once and a while as he takes drags from his cigarette every minute or so. You know he’s looking at your lips, he has to be. For a moment, you wonder if he wants to kiss you. Do you want to kiss him? It feels like you do, but you know you shouldn’t. It’ll throw you right back to where you started, two people with different goals in life. But despite the glaring truth, your conscience starts to fly out the window as you let your gaze drift to his lips as well.

He takes one last hit of his cigarette and then puts it out in the ashtray on the table next to the swing. Music still flows loudly from the garage as the two of you sit there together in the quiet night. He turns back toward you, his eyes drifting to your lips again before you decide you can’t take anymore. Your hand leaves your lap and moves to rest on his waist, rubbing his side lightly with your thumb.

“Josh?” you start, unsure if you want to continue the way you intend to.

“Yes, Sapphire?” he answers, making your heart jump inside your chest. The nickname was effective before, but now it felt like something different entirely. How he had so much of an effect on you with so few words baffled you. It was something that you’d never experienced before and likely never will again.

“Are any of those songs about me?” you finally ask, keeping your eyes on his in an effort to feign confidence. You watch as his gaze softens and he nods slowly.

“Yes, some of them are,” he admits earnestly, his eyes darting to your lips as your proximity becomes even more apparent.

“Are some of them about someone else?” you ask, already knowing the answer. But you wanted to hear him say it–no, needed to. He was so close that you could feel his warm breath against your face, sending your mind reeling.

“There is no one else,” he says, his voice deep and low. You breathe out a slow breath, trying not to look relieved. The corner of his mouth tweaks up into a smirk as his eyes burn through yours. After a few more moments of silence, where the tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife, your eyes soften as the gap between you gets even smaller.

“Please,” you whisper, a quiet plea for him to close the gap and give in to all of the desire that was looming over you. And that was all he needed to hear before his soft lips encompassed yours.

The breath is stolen from your throat as Josh’s lips crash against yours, his hands wrapping around your waist as he pulls you closer. You almost have a double-take for a moment, wondering if this was really happening, before you’re snapped out of it by the feeling of Josh’s tongue gliding against your bottom lip. You give him access and his tongue slips past your lips and dances with your own, making you sigh quietly against his lips.

The feeling of his hands on your body and his mouth finally on yours is almost too good to be true. Were you dreaming? Surely not. His touch brings you back to reality, his hand grazing your ass and grabbing it tightly. God, you missed this. You missed him. You cursed yourself for even having doubts, but you do. Before it goes any further, you pull away, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pause to think straight.

“Josh…” you whisper, resting your forehead against his softly.

“Don’t think so much,” he says, brushing a piece of your hair behind your ear. “We can talk later. This feels too right to stop now.” After he speaks those words, it all feels reminiscent of a distant memory. Your first time, five years ago.

“Josh…” you start, rubbing your thumb along his cheek.

“Shhh,” he whispers, bringing his finger to your lips. “We can discuss it later. Right now, I just need to feel you… gotta make sure that this isn’t some sort of dream.”

Some things never change… Without ‘thinking too much,’ you just simply nod and stand up from the swing, taking his hand in yours.

“Come home with me?” you ask, lacing your fingers with his. A smile creeps across his face as he nods.

“I’m offended that you even felt like you had to ask,” he jokes, letting his arm be dragged by you as you exit the backyard and enter your own, entering the house through the backdoor. Your parents are in bed by now, so the two of you move swiftly up the steep steps into your attic bedroom. Once you enter your bedroom, you shut the door behind you and lock it.

The room is lit only by the string of lights along the back window, giving you a limited view of the man in front of you. You approach him, placing your hands on the back of his neck as he wraps his arms around your waist softly. Up close, you can see the clear smile across his face. It brought you joy, to see him happy, and to know that you were the reason for it.

Your lips finally find his again, backing him up quickly until the back of his legs hit the bed. He turns you around, laying your back against the bed as he hovers over you. His hands move to slide your flannel down your arms slowly, tossing it on the floor before leaning down to kiss hot, wet kisses across your jaw and down your neck.

His hands find the bottom hem of your shirt, pulling up on it lightly as his lips pepper kisses down your neck. You nod feverishly and he leans back to pull your t-shirt up and over your head, leaving you in just your bra. Josh’s hand strokes your cheek softly and then travels down your neck to your chest, grasping your breast over your bra, making it spill out slightly.

He pulls his own shirt off, throwing it on the floor behind him before leaning back down to kiss down your collarbone, stopping at your bra strap. His finger slips underneath the strap and pulls it up, snapping it against your skin. You let out a light moan at the sensation and you watch him laugh at you before lowering his face to yours.

“God, you’re desperate for it, huh?” he asks, his nose brushing against yours as his eyes darken. “So needy.”

A quiet whimper leaves your throat involuntarily as one of his hands glides down your side to hold you still at your waist, while the other reaches behind your back and undoes the clasps of your bra in one swift movement. He pulls it off, tossing it to the side before lowering his mouth to your bare chest and taking one of your nipples into his mouth.

You throw your head back as his tongue swirls around the sensitive bud relentlessly. It was almost like he was starving, unable to stop himself as he pleasured you. The thought itself turned you on even more, almost becoming too much to handle.

One of his hands starts to work on the button of your jeans, undoing it before slowly sliding down the zipper. Without even bothering to pull the jeans down, his fingers slip underneath the waistband of your panties and immediately dip into your folds, eliciting a whine from you. A smirk grows across his lips as he dips his fingers through your folds a few more times, teasing your entrance before sliding his pointer finger inside of you with ease. His pace is relentless, curling his finger deep inside you before inserting a second finger, making your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Josh, I–” you start, struggling to get your words out. He flashes you a smile as he quickens his pace, bringing you closer to the edge. “Josh, enough. I want to feel you, please.” He smirks as you beg for him, his ego growing even bigger knowing the effect he had on you. He removes his fingers from you and then grips the hem of your jeans, yanking them down and pushing them to the floor. He stands up off the bed and unbuttons his own pants, dropping them to the floor along with his boxers.

God, he was just as beautiful as you remembered. You’ve relived this moment dozens of times before, on nights when you were lonely and longing for him. It happened more than you’d like to admit. His chest was even more sculpted than the last time you’d seen him this way, bare in front of you. He had grown into this strong, sexy man that you almost didn’t recognize. But he was someone that you were desperate to have.

“I’ve pictured this moment so many times, but it’s still even better than I ever could have imagined,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him on top of you. His lips attack your neck, sucking dark marks along it as you writhe underneath him.

“You’ve pictured this, baby?” he asks, his eyes dark as his strong arms hold you still on the bed.

“Yes,” you nod, melting into his kiss as his lips press against yours. His hand aligns himself with you, rubbing your sensitive clit as he talks to you before slipping inside.

“Tell me what you thought about,” he says, his eyes burning through yours, dark with lust. Before you have time to answer, he pushes himself inside you to the hilt, making a stifled moan erupt from your throat. Your nails dig into his back as he pulls out almost entirely before slamming back into you harshly. “I said tell me,” he repeats, his voice low and hoarse. His hips start a brutal pace as you try to collect your thoughts, unable to think straight.

“I– fuck,” you start, quickly interrupted by a harsh slam of his hips as the tip of his cock brushes against your cervix. “I thought about how badly I wanted to feel you inside me again. Just like this,” you finally answer, throwing your head back against your headboard.

“Yeah? Did you touch yourself while thinking about feeling me deep inside you?” he says, his right hand resting on the back of your neck as his thumb strokes the front of your neck softly. You nod swiftly, your eyes squeezing shut at the sensation.

“Yes, so many times,” you mutter, your eyes still shut tightly.

“What else?” he asks as you whine underneath him, struggling to keep going. “Open your eyes, look at me,” he asserts sternly. Fuck, he was so hot when he was in charge, you never wanted it any other way.

“I thought about when you’d be rough with me… so fucking hot,” you spit out, your eyes half-lidded as they lock on his. He curses under his breath and slams his hips extra hard against yours.

“Fuck,” he groans, pulling his hips back and pulling out of you before swiftly flipping you over onto your knees. Without warning, he pushes back into you and sets a steady pace, his hand gliding from your hip down your back to the back of your neck. He pushes you down by your back as he slams into you, his tip hitting that special spot inside you repeatedly. You whine underneath him as the pressure inside you starts to build.

You wince as you feel Josh’s hand crack down on the swell of your ass, eliciting a high-pitched squeal from your mouth. As he fucks you deep into the mattress, his hand comes down on you a few more times, smoothing out the spot softly after each flow to your soft skin. You hear him panting behind you, muttering a slur of curses each time his hand cracks down on you, the sound of you whimpering underneath him almost enough to make him cum right there.

Josh’s hand wraps around your throat, holding tightly as he pulls you up, his warm chest pressing against your back. The new angle is almost excruciating and your mind is numb, you’re unable to speak. He brushes your hair to the side, planting harsh kisses on your shoulder blade as his neck holds firmly on your neck, squeezing ever so slightly.

The roughness was partially thanks to how much the tension built up, yearning to break free. But you knew that it was out of frustration too. Frustration over you not leaving with him all those years ago, and you deserved it. At this moment, if this was punishment for your decision, you wanted nothing else.

“Is this rough enough for you, baby?” he mutters against your skin, his other hand moving from your waist to rub tight circles around your clit. You whine under your touch, knowing that your climax is near. “Is this just what you wanted?”

“Yes, yes, feels so good,” you breathe, desperate for your release.

“Perfect,” he whispers, moving his hand from your throat to grasp one of your breasts, his fingers pinching your nipple harshly. God, you were so close. “I’d do anything to make you feel good, Saph. Anything.”

Your orgasm crashes over you at that moment, the burning, white-hot sensation washing over you more intensely than you’ve experienced in God knows how long. Your mind goes foggy and you grow stiff against his touch as he kisses your cheek softly and helps you through it.

“I’m not gonna last much longer, baby,” he whispers against your skin, kissing down your neck as his thrusts speed up. “Where should I…” You lean your head back against his shoulder as he gets even closer, overstimulation almost taking over you.

“Inside. Fuck, please,” you plead, and he moans in your ear as he slams his hips into you harshly, chasing his own high.

“Shit, Saph, that’s so fucking hot,” he mutters from behind you, his arm holding your tightly against him as he grows closer. “Gonna fill you up, just like you want. Fuck, I love you so much.”

Your mind is so cloudy from the feeling of Josh inside of you and his lips on your neck that you almsot don’t register it at first. Before you have time to respond, he slams his hips into you one last time before you feel his release shoot deep inside of you. Your eyes roll back just from the feeling of it: warm, perfect. You knew in this moment that you were his. You always have been, and you always will be. It didn’t matter if you were together or apart, you were his.

He thrusts a few more times, pushing his cum deep inside you before pulling out slowly, laying you down on the bed softly. He plants a soft kiss on your shoulder, stroking your bare back softly before getting up from the bed and walking to the bathroom behind you. Moments later, he returns with a towel, soaked in warm water to clean you off with. Once he’s convinced you’re clean, he wipes himself down quickly before tossing the towel back into the bathroom and then lying down next to you on the bed.

As he lays down on his back next to you, you scooch over on the bed, placing your head next to his on the pillow and putting your hand on his warm, soft chest. He leans over, placing a kiss on your forehead with a quiet sigh. As his fingers start to ghost over your arm sweetly, you finally break the silence.

“I love you, too,” you whisper, nuzzling into his neck as you shut your eyes, knowing that sleep will soon take over you. You don’t have to see him to know that he’s smiling.

“What does this mean for us?” he whispers, the cogs turning slowly. “I have to go back to Nashville on Sunday…” You think for a moment, not wanting to jump the gun or say the wrong thing.

“I… I’ll talk to my dad in the morning, and I’ll tell him that I need to move to Nashville. With you. He’ll just have to find somebody else to take over.”

The silence is deafening. At first, you wonder if you’ve scared him away, but he speaks again.

“I thought that running the store was your dream, Saph,” he says apprehensively.

“It was. But everything is different now,” you answer, looking up at him with a soft smile. “You’re my dream, Josh Kiszka. Only you. Everything else can come after. I didn’t know it four years ago, but I know it now. It’s always been you.”

His lips crash into yours and you can feel him smiling against yours. Everything was falling into place.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispers.

“I love you, Josh.”

The End.

*:·.·:**:·.·:**:·.·:**:·.·:*༺˚ ⊹♫⊹ ˚༻*:·.·:**:·.·:**:·.·:**:·.·:*

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