#Casually shoves this ball of fluff at her

[jester089]

Gotta say, massive fan of the work you’ve pumped out, especially for TADC (it came out two weeks or so ago and there’s this much already what?!)

That said, could you write for the gang (separately, I’m sorry l know it’s a lot) who’s s/o resisted abstraction? Like, they were halfway through but turned back through sheer will? *Insert John Wick reference* This has been ping ponging in my head for a while. Thanks for listening! XO

Glitchy pain

I've written for something like this before. And I wasn't sure if you wanted angst or fluff. But since what I wrote before was angst I'm gonna just donna do my ideas on this one. Also to anyone else who feels like requesting don't be afraid to ask for a lot of characters. My max is like 10 and only because Tumblr doesn't like super long posts. I honestly don't think I would have a max if not for that. But really from like 7 pm to 4 am I got a lot of free time and the want to write. So ask to your hearts content. TADC crew x (kind of) abstracted reader

Caine

Caine was floating around when he heard what sounded like a pained and glitchy scream? He quickly floats over to where he heard it from only to find you clutching your head crumpled up into a ball on the floor. He was about to float down and ask you what happened before he noticed the random glitches, black spiky flesh, and randomly colored eye balls all appearing and disappearing in the blink of an eye. So he backed off, a little sad over the fact you were abstracting but life goes on. Until you let out another pained scream, it was almost like the abstraction reacted as the second you screamed it reverted a bit and slowed down. It continues like that for who knows how long. You in a mental and physical battle with abstraction. Caine just staring completely taken back by what he was witnessing. After enough time you vomit a nasty and seemingly living blob of black goo onto the floor and pass out. Caine stares at your motionless body for a few seconds before snapping out of it. He puts the weird goo blob into the cellar and takes you back to your room. He doesn't even know how to react, so he sits there at your bedside waiting for you to wake up. Once you do he is relived to find it's still you, speaking in full sentences and everything. Sure your voice and body have the occasional glitch but overall you're ok. So he leaves you be, mostly. He still needs to study your code for how you did that. But past that and him being a bit more "walking on egg shells" around you, but nothing really changes. And not wanting the others to think your a threat, you and Caine don't tell anyone.

Gangle

Gangle was wandering around looking for you. Her comedy mask broke again and you were the only one who knew how to fix it properly. She could patch it up sure but it never lasted long. Much like Caine she heard you scream out, only difference being she recognized your voice. She quickly changed from casual and aimless stroll to sprint with reason finding you leaned against a wall holding your stomach looking like your about to throw up. She runs up to you and places a hand(?) on each side of your head staring into your eyes. She in a panicked voice asks "Are you ok?! What happened?!" You half shove her away a garbled and messy version of your voice half screaming out that it isn't safe. You quickly regret taking the energy to speak and move as a giant surge of pain jolts up your digital spine forcing you onto your knees. You let out another pained groan/scream as black goo starts oozing out of your mouth. It's only then that Gangle realizes your glitching! She panics and tells you to stay calm while she gets Caine. Gangle sprints off with a mission luckily finding Caine rather quickly. She especially screams at him to help her/follow her. He listens and follows her. When she gets back to where she left you, your passed out. But you aren't glitching anymore. And your not fully abstracted. She carefully walks over to you and sets a gentle hand (ribbon) on your face feeling a whole lot of relief when you half swat at her hand in your sleep. She'll watch you while you sleep making sure you aren't disturbed but when you're awake and she's sure you're ok you are going to be getting a whole lot of cuddles from her. Her comedy mask can wait.

Zooble

Zooble was missing a leg and was hobbling/jumping her way towards your room to ask if you'd seen it. She knocked on your door only to receive no response. She knocks again. Nothing. So she unlocks it with the spare key you gave her. She is stunned by what she sees. Obsessive scribbles covering your walls. Wall paper torn and dirtied. She takes a few cautious steps before finally hearing you say in a horrible sounding voice "P̵̛̣̤̪̑̈́̄͆̚p̴̹͇̆̑̐͠ṕ̷͔̼͙̅̀͐̿͋͜͝P̵̢͚̩̱̮̭̉͜͠l̵͔̟̰̘̼̹̼̯͉͆ḛ̴̣͈̖͛̈́̏̏͌̕͜a̴̢͇̣̮̠͕̮͆̾s̸̡͉̣̺̯͚̾̈́͋̃̑͊͘s̵̼͛̃͛̄̏̊̊͜͠ͅs̷̨̯̬̯͊e̵̢̪̜̗͙̞͈̠͌̔͠s̸̢͔̝̳̞͈̭̲͂͆̇̄͛́́͗ͅͅ ̴̗̻̳̗̜̙̹̘͒̒̑̅̂̎̚͘w̴̰̘͂͊̌̒͘w̸̢̦̑̍̈́͊W̷̨̄̑̌̂̚͝W̵̦̙͇̝̲̪̝̫̜̰̄͑̚w̶̮͐̏̀͊͠h̴̬̤̠̩̰͋͗̾̓̈́̍̅ó̴͍̭͇̯͚̮͔̽̓̔̈́ ̶̥̑͋͒̿̀Ê̶̼͎͇͍̳̯͌͋͐̓̋v̸̢͓̩͗͜͝v̴͇͇̮̻͖̪͕̰̹̫̔̌̎̇̑́ë̷̪̤̫̪͌͂̓̕͘e̵̢̨̱̘̗͙̘̱̱̩̎̾̀v̸͍̄͠ë̶̡̙̠̣̰̠́͜r̸͇̰͖̍͑͌̆̌ ̷̯̼͕͍̭̭̲͙̰̽̈́͝y̷̪͉͓͗̿̀̐̈̃̆õ̷̢̜̮̬͒̈́͒̿̀̽̈́͂̈́ǘ̸̡̟̭̩̠̜̬͙̃ṵ̴̭̮̹̯̺̜̤̈͂̽u̸̬̠͉̺͍̰͉̦͌̋́̃͌̊͘͜ ̵̲͖̩̹̲̊̐͂͝͝a̵̰̩̻̗͕͎̮͈̥̫͂̂̌̆̆̎̑a̴̭͒͐̏̎́́͝à̶̛̘̮͍̟̻͕̰̽̍͛̽̈́̃͛͝r̴͎͚͇̻̞̬͑̂̅̿͋̅̂͊̔ą̴̛̱̱̗̔̈́̈́̔͒̆̌͘͠r̵̺̰̬̹̮̬̘̜̈́̊͗͛̅̌͌͘͜ę̸̛̺̞͚̹̘̱̥̲̒̍̏̔͛̌̚ȇ̴̩.̶̛̖̙̦̝̹̰͔̉͂̆̉̐̾̐͠͝ ̵̘̙͎̼̻̩̬͖͌̉̾̂̄͜J̵͐̏̇̈́̑̃͜͝͝j̶̛̠̬̟̓͗͗͆̆̀̈́̿̂͜j̴̢͍̦͉̯͑̍̓J̷̨̧̢̳̟̠̯͖͖͚̐̈̏̓̈͐̎̐͝j̶̫̞̬͖̯̯̹̺̩͆̾̽́̈́̄ͅJ̵͖̘̫̓u̷̡̧͔̥͇͕͔̞̠̇͛̈́̎͂̌͂͘̕ş̶͕̫̎ṫ̷͈͖̲̩͉͌̅̍̈́́̿ ̷̠͕͕̖̜̻̯̻̖̃̏̀͂͑́l̷̳̣̼̓̈́̊̈́̈̎̀́̋̚͜L̶̡̜̣͔͔̼̠̗̎̇̈́̕Ļ̴̞̟̱̹͓̹̪͖͚̂̐͐̑̂͆̐̓̚͠ḽ̶̢̧̙̺̯͖̰͓͐͗̽̈́̃̔̀̾̕l̴̢̢̳̜̣̦̎́́̔̕̚e̷͔̫͉̘͉̓̓͋͊̀̿̄̕͝ͅã̷̡̢̝̮͔̮̰̱͒͌̈͊̾͂͠ͅͅv̷̗̼͎̠̝̋̓͒͛̂͐͜͜è̶̪̟̲̘̃̓ ̴̺̊̉͑̉̽̅́̕̕m̸̧̦͔̙͍̘̭̲̄͂m̸̧̫͎͌̀̃͜ͅM̴͍͍̫͚̺͚̪̺̿́̒͋̂͐̿͗̚͘m̴̛̘̼͔͑̿̏̅͌̊̾̕e̴̩̟͈̙͑̏͐̆̓͆̏̚͠͝ ̵̳̤͉͉͙̬̥̉̓́̀̓̃̀̌̊͜ͅḁ̶̧̗͈͍͍̉͂̀͆͗̾̆́̚͜͝l̴̜͓͈̄͌̓̈́̉͊͊̍͝a̵̲͒̋̂͐́̊̕̚͝â̶̢͕̫̘̮͈̻͕͙̩͑̂ḹ̵̨̮̓̓̊̍̕̚͝o̵͖͔̥̳̊̐̀͠n̵̺̥̲͔͔̿͋̊ë̶̯̤̻́̌̎̎́̾͋̄̄̋.̵̪̑͆̀̎" (Please whoever you are. Just leave me alone.) She cautiously walks over to your bed and peaks over it. Your laying there curled up into a ball torn and broken items surrounding you. Y-your abstracting?! B-but... Zooble doesn't even really register the fact. She's in shock from seeing you like this. (I mean I would be too) You let out an ear piercing scream and claw at your own face with enough force to tear the skin, if you weren't digital at least. The glitching gets much much worse for a few seconds before just, stopping. No rhyme or reason that she can see. But you can bet your a&$ that after like 5 seconds pass and you stop showing signs of abstraction she's going to huddle near your spitting out so many questions. Mainly ones like "ARE YOU OK!?!" and "Your still with me right?! RIGHT!?!"

Kinger

Kinger would more likely then not be there when your first started glitching. And that might make him officially lose it. Your the second person in this hell (Queener) who he felt close too. And he outlived you too. Still you aren't abstracted yet. Maybe their's still a chance! So he sprints off screaming out for Caine in a voice that is loud enough to make you go deaf if you were too close to him. When he finds Caine. And he will find Caine he grabs him by the shoulders and sprints towards where he last saw you. He basically throws Caine at your glitching form and yells at him to fix you! In that second you stop glitching Caine did nothing and Kinger will basically tackle you. He'll pick you up and hold you over his head like a spear and sprint towards your rooms. Once there he will set up the comfiest coziest pillow fort possible then get you all comfy inside. Once he's sure your at least mostly safe and he's at least mostly calmed down he'll ask you about what happened. (Despite him being pretty crazy I really do feel like out of everyone he would be the best at communication in a friend or relationship. I mean he's that crazy and yet he still has manners and knowledge about a lot. Tbh he might become my fav. Idk it's possible.)

Ragatha

You were helping out Ragatha with a surprise she was making for everyone to lighten their moods when you said that you feel kind of sick so you were going to call it a night. She nods thanks you for the help you gave then gives you a quick peck to the lips as a send off. Not to much to her surprise you choose to lay in her bed instead of yours. Just something you do when you don't wanna be alone. She shrugs it off and keeps working actually quite grateful that you decided to not leave, not fully at least. She keeps working but stops when she hears some very concerning noises coming from your sleeping body. She turns around to see you tossing and turning an abnormal amount in your sleep, as well as making a lot of noises that sound like when someone is choking on their own blood. Concerned she carefully walks over to check on you only to recoil when she notices the glitching. She trips over her own foot and falls over onto her back. She quickly but clumsily gets up and gets back to you. She shakes you a bit trying to wake you up, but you don't only concerning her more. She yells calls out for Pomni who pokes her head through Ragatha's door a second later. Ragatha nearly screams at her to go get Caine. Pomni startled by Ragatha's tone turns heel and runs off to look for Caine while Ragatha stays with you. She keeps whispering things like "You're gonna be ok" and "Pomni's getting Caine just hang in there". Always keeping a hand on you not caring when it starts glitching out too. When Pomni returns with Caine, Ragatha full on yells at him to help you. He looks at you, then back at her, then with a apologetic tone says their isn't anything he can do as abstraction is one of those things he doesn't have control over. Ragatha breaks into tears. So she's gonna lose you, she was even there. BUT SHE CAN'T F@%#&$* HELP?! She holds onto you like you're her last tether to reality. And you seem to get better. Your at the very least don't seem to be in pain anymore! So she squeezes you, really f&$%@#* hard happier then should be possible that your improving.

Jax

Jax found you in his room voice glitching you huddled over in pain. At first he thought it was a revenge prank and acted accordingly. "Haha, very funny Y/N. Now get out of my room I need to do something." That is until you vomited up a ton of pitch black goo. Then he started taking it more seriously. He quickly crouches down and wraps an arm around you to try and provide some support. He freaks out and quickly pulls his arm back when you vomit up more goo and starts visibly glitching. He panics and quickly looks around his room locking onto a like 3 day old unopened water bottle. He opens it and hands it to you as well as a thing to squeeze that half yells to just hang in there he'll be right back. He sprints around not even knowing who to get. He sees Ragatha and half tackles her. He shouts directly into her face that you need help and that you in his room. He tosses her in the direction of his room then continues sprinting around not long after finding Caine. He grabs Caine ignoring his protests and runs back to his room where he fins Ragatha sitting next to his bed you tucked in. Your not vomiting anything and you aren't glitching. You're just shivering. He hears you mumble his name and literally kicks Ragatha and Caine out quickly getting to your side. After he feels he wont get hurt he quickly gets into bed holding you close "If you ever do that again I'm going to take back my vow to not tease you." He falls asleep with his chin resting on your head.

Pomni

At first when you started glitching Pomni didn't really know it was abstraction. She's never seen someone abstract after all, only seeing the finished product. But when you keep getting worse and worse she realizes that something is wrong. So she leaves you with a quick kiss then runs off to the communication thing Caine made after the whole Kaufmo incident. She calls him and when he picks up she screams into the phone that your glitching out. When Caine appears next to her she runs back over to where you are not even checking if Caine is following. When she gets back to you, you're still in really bad shape. She turns back to Caine and yells at him to help you. When he tells her that he can't she starts hyperventilating, then she sees him pick you up and the cellar hole open?! OH F&#$ NO! She basically punches Caine then clings to you protectively, ready to throw hands with Caine if she has to. Caine tries and pull her off when she starts glitching but she has the grip of a professional rock climber. So Caine has to keep curing her glitches at they appear. Cause in his mind your beyond help but she isn't. Then you start to improve. No more coughing and the glitching has slowed down! Pomni glares at Caine then turns back to you with a scared and tired smile on her face. Once your ok enough to talk you are going to get an earful. WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL HER YOU WERE FEELING BAG ENOUGH TO ABSTRACT?!?!?! (Sorry this was so long. I got a little carried away. And surprisingly I'm pretty proud of this one. I hope you enjoyed it!)

xoxo, Jester

[fadingdaggerr]

first off, omg I absolutely love your writing. You're literally my favorite author on here. Second, the pictures you choose for each one shot are *chefs kiss*

Moving on from that, I was wondering if you could do a melissa schemmenti one shot inspired by the song "casual" by chappell roan, and with a happy ending? or the song "red wine supernova"?

I've been meaning to do it myself but I so don't have the time or motivation right now😭

and now? (18+ minors, dni)

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: melissa craved you, you craved melissa. what you crave from each other seems to differ depending on the season, based on both casual and red wine supernova by chappell roan. | 6.1k

includes: angst!!, fluff, no pronouns/gender mention for r, emotionally constipated mel and r, self sabotage from r, happy ending

warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamics, alcohol consumption (minimal), marijuana use (minimal), verbal fighting, afab reader (no mention of breasts in ref to r), smut throughout (oral, fingering, toy use, mel and r receiving), lots of praise

translations: sfigata (italian - loser), τουαλέτα (greek - restroom - pronounced too-ah-leh-tah)

note: on this episode of “sol complains about their inability to write under 4k words and then immediately writes 6k+” N E ways. the goal of this was to sort of have mel's perspective be carried by red wine supernova and reader's perspective to be more along casual. thank you for trusting me with your prompt/idea, i'm very honored <3

The moment she saw you, she knew she had to have you.

Tipsy at a housewarming party, uninterested in everyone around her, Melissa almost calls it a night. She only agreed to be here because Shauna said ‘a small get together,’ not ‘having half of Philly in the kitchen alone.’ Weaving through the room, she attempts to find someone she knows to say goodbye to, but her search is halted by yelling from the foosball table.

In the living room, Dominic is accusing someone of cheating. At foosball. Amused, she walks further into the room to watch, seeing Dominic miss the ball too many times to not be an effect of alcohol, and he groans towards the ceiling.

He angrily spins the handles he’s holding, jostling the table, “stop fucking cheating, dude!”

“I’m not fucking cheating, dude,” the other player responds, laughing through the answer. Hiking it onto her tiptoes, Melissa peeks over shoulders to see you, a little grin on your face that also drops the joint hanging from your lips.

“Bitch, yes you are!”

Without a second to even blink, you push the rods in your hands forward, hard, making the metal ends roughly hit Dom’s hip. Leaning over the table, you blow smoke towards his face with a sarcastic smile, “don’t call me a bitch. Thought you knew better, Domi?”

“Yup,” he responds through a wince, “yup, wasn’t thinking. Sorry.”

Through a chuckle, you take another hit from the near-roach, eye flicking up at the sensation of being watched intently. Red hair sticks out in the crowded room, green eyes sticking out more. Subconsciously, you do a once over of her, meeting her eyes.

Voices, music, the people around you, they all faded away. All you saw was Melissa. All Melissa saw was you.

Your whole body goes on autopilot, trying to get you to her as quickly as possible. Dominic tries to get you to play another round, an attempt to redeem himself, but you wave him off, not taking your eyes off the object of your attention as you snub out the joint against the game table. It takes borderline shoving almost everyone out of your way before you finally get to her. Any thought of leaving early flies out Melissa’s brain, disappearing as you enter her orbit.

It’s all a blur from the center of the living room, to the back of it, to the locked bathroom with you on the counter. How she got here, she doesn’t know, nor care. All she can focus on is your hand gripping her hair and the taste of you on her tongue. The blessing and curse of music beating through the wall fills her ears, thankful it covers the moans coming from you for any partygoers, but angered she can barely hear them.

Melissa can’t dwell much when your thighs begin to shake around her head, the hand not in her hair was nearly clawing the wall. From the whines that she manages to hear through thigh-shaped earmuffs and bass boosts, she can tell you’re close, the bucking into her mouth quickening with the motion of her tongue. Melissa’s alternating of figure-eights and sucking on your clit is your downfall, struggling to contain the loud groan that desperately wants to rip from your throat.

Languid motions slow, making you squirm from overstimulation before you’re pulling her back up to your lips. You almost give right back in when you feel her groan against your lips, tasting yourself on her as she dominates the kiss, all teeth and tongue. She was addictive, your new drug of choice, one you don’t want to let go of soon. 

Melissa leaves the party with your number in her phone, and your taste imprinted on her tongue.

—☽—

Melissa can’t even wait two days before she texts you, just saying it was her, chewing her thumb as she waits for a reply. Eight minutes and three seconds later, not that she’s been silently counting or anything, her phone buzzes.

hey beautiful. was wondering when i’d hear from you.

You were at her door within a couple hours, almost running over your coworker as the workday ended.

The first month of this arrangement, this is all it is. Melissa texts you a simple Are you free tonight? and you show up at her front door, grinning as she pulls you in by the collar of your shirt. She rarely takes her time with you, immediately sucking at sensitive skin and cupping your sex through your underwear, dragging her teeth down your throat. Moans and whining coming from you only spur her on. You barely make it to the couch before her fingers are working their way inside you.

It takes weeks before you can contain yourselves enough to make it to her bedroom, though your clothes are scattered from the front door to the stairs, Melissa’s black thong caught on the bannister. An altogether miracle you even make it onto her bed.

The redhead has a damn near obsession with eating you out, bold hands holding you down as you squirm, groaning into you as you grind into her face. It’s the first and last thing she does every time, before she kisses you goodbye, all soft and sweet. The two actions are so wildly different, rough and dominating followed by gentle and caring. How could one not become a fiend for the attention only she can provide?

Another month passes, and it’s almost routine. Melissa calls, you run. Melissa says jump, you ask how high. Melissa tells you to take off your shirt, it’s off before she finishes her sentence. Melissa gets you off, you leave before you’ve even caught your breath.

The expectation of you leaving drops one night when she catches the dazed, sleepy look in your eyes one night. For the first time, she lets someone spend the night. With her arm around your waist, you speak quietly into the air, “would you wanna go on a date sometime? A real one, I mean.”

Her arm retracts from your body, turning to lay on her back, “c’mon, baby. That’s not what this is, we agreed.”

Suddenly, you’re glad she’s not pressed against you anymore, breath uneven, “yeah, yeah. You’re right. Nevermind.”

You don’t bring it up again. She doesn’t try to hold you again. Your visits include dinner and wine before she dines on you and coffee before you leave in the morning, but nothing more. It tastes bitter in your mouth.

Four months in, and you find yourself splayed across her couch with the redhead buried between your thighs, fingers making sparks roll through your core. Hard knocking broke through, both of you stare at each other with wide eyes. A second round of knocking throws you into motion, scrambling to put your jeans back on, Melissa hurriedly cleaning her fingers with her mouth. Just before she opens the door, you stop her to fix her hair, immediately turning back to throw yourself on the couch.

When Melissa opens the door, all you hear is, “took you long enough.”

“Fuck d’ya expect showing up unannounced?” Melissa matches the annoyed tone of whoever’s at the door, moving aside to let them in. Blond and tall with the same Schemmenti resting-murder face. This has to be Kristen Marie, the ‘sfigata ass sister’ Melissa mentions from time to time.

“The hell are you?” The blond looks at you, no attempt to hide the judgment behind her eyes. A quick glance to Melissa, who’s glaring back, tells you to lie. You introduce yourself only as one of Melissa’s friends, the mention of knowing Shauna, however, seems to make Kristen less defensive. A sigh of relief leaves the redhead, you hadn’t been caught. A sigh of disappointment leaves your own lips.

Weeks later, Melissa’s phone rings while you’re both chopping vegetables for dinner. She mutters an apology as she pauses your conversation, showing you the contact Mama on the screen. You pretend to zip your lips with a little grin, going back to chopping the bell peppers she tasked you with.

“Hey, Ma,” Melissa says into the phone as she puts it between her ear and shoulder, freeing her hands to chop the onion. “Nah, just making dinner. I can’t stay on long, I got company,” she bumps your hip with hers, laughing at whatever her mother says before answering, “no, weirdo, not that kind of company… I’ll ask, hold on.”

Putting her phone to her chest to cover the speaker, she asks, “my mother would like to know if you’re a complete freak?”

“Contextually, yes and no,” you say, reveling in Melissa’s bursted laughter, “but tell her no.”

“No more than I am, Ma,” she says when she brings her phone back to her ear, pinching your ass as she stifles a laugh while her mom keeps speaking. The hand around your heart has pink acrylics.

In the passing months, a change you weren’t expecting comes, and you hope that if you don’t acknowledge it, it will stay this way. An undercover Eurydice.

Most nights, Melissa barely let you get out a greeting before you were pinned against the door, lips on your, hands roaming under your shirt. Some nights she was slow, gentle, loving almost, taking her time and kissing every inch of you. Those nights made it hard to separate the feelings you have from the ones she dances around talking about.

There are other days though, your favorite days. Ones like tonight, where both of you are exhausted and just want to no longer exist to the world. Instead, you feel as though you’re in your own world out here on her back porch. You peek over at Melissa as you take a hit from a joint you packed before driving over, eyes closed, Melissa doesn’t see you.

Watching closer than you should, your eyes stay on her as she moves to take a sip of the Cabarnet you bought only for her. The way her lips kiss the glass, how she licks her lips to never waste a drop. If she asked, you’d gladly kiss away rogue droplets of wine. She’s beautiful, truly beautiful. She knows it, but she doesn’t really believe it, always rolling her eyes when you mumble it against her thighs. You wish you could tell her whenever the thought crossed your mind, every time you look at her. Exhaling, you turn away, mouthing a silent fuck to yourself. Bringing the J to your lips, you try to keep from being caught.

Melissa’s head drops, propping her chin on her shoulder with droopy eyes, “can we just sleep tonight? ‘M slipping into a coma over here.”

You chuckle, copying her pose, rose-tinted eyes flitting over her, “sounds great.”

For the first time in five months, Melissa holds you as you both fall asleep in the center of the bed.

You love these nights, ones where you can pretend Melissa is just as much yours as you are hers.

A cruel, ten month anniversary gift of sorts comes in the form of a friend in the hospital cafeteria.

Your phone pings where it sits in your scrub shirt pocket, your chest tightens.

Melissa: I’ll be home around 6, if you’re free tonight.

The grin on your face is not unnoticed by your friend as she sits back in front of you. Shauna taps the table to get your attention, “that your girl?”

“She’s not my girl,” you mumble, typing out a reply to Melissa.

when am i not free for you?

Shauna scoffs, speaking under her breath, “like you actually think that.”

You place your phone back on the table with a little force, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“She’s just using you, honey,” Shauna blurts, “you’re at her beck and call, and all she wants is sex. And I know you, that’s not what you want.”

“And what do I want, oh wise one?”

“Her,” she replies. “I’ve known you too long to not know that you’re in love with her. I’ve also known Mel long enough to say that she is going to break your heart.”

You kiss your teeth, “what do you know about what Melissa wants?”

Shauna doesn’t appreciate your defensive attitude, so she gives you the hard truth, “she said this whole thing is just casual. Pretty stress relief, I think were her exact words.”

You are stress relief, nothing more. Another ping.

Melissa: See you then baby.

—☽—

When you arrive on Melissa’s doorstep, you desperately want to turn and run, save yourself before you feel any more. The equally desperate need to be near her knocks for you, but when she answers, you can barely meet her gaze. Green eyes flick from your face to your wringing hands, pink lips shifting to a frown.

“What’s bothering you?” Melissa asks gently, locking the door behind you. When you shake your head, struggling to kick your shoe off, her arms wrap around your waist, chin on your shoulder. She feels you stiffen, pouting to herself, “I know something’s wrong, you look like Eeyore in torrential downpour.”

You huff a laugh and lean against her, “just… stress.”

“Hmm,” glossy lips press to your neck, soft and slow, “want me to get rid of some of that?” The feeling of her hands on you is so convincing, it overrides what you know you should do. Turning in her arms, you press your lips into her and let her take control.

Her mouth wraps around your nipple, thumb slowly torturing your clit as her fingers work you through your third orgasm. From the twitch of your hips, she knows you’re at your limit, carefully removing her fingers from you. Greedy hands tug at her, pulling her to your lips as you flip your bodies, straddling her hips. Traveling down, you delight in her whimpers as you suck at her skin, leaving behind marks comparable to the wine she loves.

Your hands spread her legs, taking your rightful place between them. Sensual, slow, loving kisses down her soft stomach, all leading to where she needs you most. Her hips buck as you get closer to her center, breath tickling her pearl. With a flat tongue, you fulfill her wish, licking a stripe from the base of her slit to her clit, moaning into her. Hands harshly grip your hair, tugging when you suck on her clit. Your own hand slides from her strong thigh to her plush breasts, toying with her nipples as you devour her.

Husky pants draw from her throat, pitchy whines breaking through when your fingers begin to toy with her entrance. Neither of you care about the phone ringing from the nightstand. All you can hear is hoarse moans of oh god and please, faster, all you feel, taste, and smell, is Melissa. You both peer to the nightstand when it rings again, desperately trying to ignore it. A second finger enters Melissa as her attention falls back on you, her eyes meeting yours as she moans, fueling your desire.

A third ringing of the phone almost makes her scream, and tapping your shoulder with vigor to stop you before the phone is forced to ring again. You quickly, and gently, retract your fingers, allowing Melissa to shakily reach for her phone. The blood drains from her face as she looks at the screen, staring at you where you rest on her thigh, answering with a gulp.

“H-” she clears her throat, “hey, ma.” Your eyes almost bulge from your head. “I was in the middle of a shower, sorry,” she gets out quickly, nearly laughing at herself and you purse your lips to contain your own giggle, “well, the kids had a project with glitter, had to get it off.”

“Get something off,” you mumble quietly, pressing a kiss to the junction of her hip. Melissa playfully smacks your arm as she listens to her mother, pressing her finger to her grinning lips.

“Well, I got a friend over right now…” Friend. “Yes, the freak,” she chuckles warmly, patting your hand before her hand freezes on yours, “oh- I… can ask.” Her eyes leave her lap, now looking to you, “wanna go get dinner at Cirillo’s? My parent’s treat.”

Your eyebrows rise, “do you… want me to go?” You’ve met Kristen Marie, and only quickly ran into her cousin Vinny, but her parents were a whole other story.

“Wouldn’t have offered otherwise,” it feels genuine. You nod.

Arturo and Giorgia Schemmenti are exactly who would expect Melissa’s parents to be. Giorgia shares suspicion openly on her face, Arturo, on the other hand, has a resting smile. You think in the moment, you’ve got them figured out, but the way they unblinkingly look when you speak terrifies you, as if they’re analyzing every breath you take and every twitch of your hand. Silent prayers from both you and Melissa ask they don’t realize you were forced to wear one of her shirts, having arrived to her place in an ancient sweatshirt from your backseat.

You answer every question they ask you, although confused on the need to grill you so closely. What do you do for work? How many siblings? Ever gotten a speeding ticket? How’s your relationship with your parents? Do you have any sexually transmitted diseases? Thoughts on Reagan? Ever cheated on one of your past partners? MRI technician, sir. Two brothers. Twice, one on my way to school, one on my way to the hospital for my grandmother. Not great, I guess? No, ma’am, I get tested every two months. Hope he’s in hell. No, God, no.

“Lord, you two, let up. We haven’t even gotten the tzatziki yet,” Melissa says, laying the drinks menu down on the table.

“Just trynna get to know your friend, Meli,” Arturo turns his attention to you, “swear, all the girl does is talk about you, and I still know nothing.” The ringed hand at the edge of the table clenches, knuckles white.

You just shrug, “afraid I’m not that interesting.” I’m just a friend. 

You miss how Melissa looks at you, brows turned up as she glimpses your sad smile. However, you feel a warm hand go to your thigh, squeezing gently. When her parents' attention diverts to a large party walking in, she whispers in your ear, “I don’t like when you talk about yourself like that, you’re very interesting. Should know, I’ve studied every inch of you for hours.”

It takes a deep breath and every ounce of strength to not wiggle in your seat. Reprieve comes in the shape of a definitely stoned server, lucky bastard, and reprieve is taken away when he tells you that food may be a little delayed due to the rush. Melissa’s parents nod with understanding, you nod with fear bubbling. A delay means longer here, with Melissa’s hand on your thigh with her parents speaking about everything and nothing from across the table.

It’s getting harder and harder to focus with Melissa’s fingers drawing little patterns over your jeans, skin burning beneath her touch. Peering over at her, you can see an almost-hidden mark from early, the easy smile on her lips as she talks to her dad, she’s perfect in your eyes. In this lighting, it’s hard to look away from her, orange-hued lights making her look golden.

Rising from your chair, you just give a quiet, “I’ll be right back.” You turn to walk towards the restrooms, desperate for space away from judging hazel and green eyes across the table. Melissa watches your direction, excusing herself too, following where you disappeared under the sign reading τουαλέτα.

In the short hallway, she grabs your wrist before you enter the door, pulling you to the family room to the right. Locking the door, she places her hands on your hips, “are they freaking you out? I’ll tell them to knock it off, or we can go, say you’re on call or something.”

“No,” you say, place your palms against her shoulders, “it’s just overwhelming, all the questions, your dad asking for my credit score, I don’t know.”

“You didn’t have to tell him,” she chuckles, hands dipping to your ass.

You shiver from her touch, leaning into her, “it’s a good score, though.”

“It is,” you barely hear her words as she presses her lips to yours, all the energy from earlier still running through her veins. Your hands slide down her arms to her hips, pushing her back towards the sink. We’ve been here before.

Hopping up, she settles against the porcelain and opens her legs to let you stand between them. Keeping your lips on hers, you quickly unbutton her jeans, forcing the zipping down. You know her like the back of your hand at this point, know how to touch her to make her writhe and release around your fingers, you’re utterly devoted to her pleasure.

The previously ruined orgasm comes back quickly with full force, her clenching around you quickly. Her lips leave yours, shoving her face into your shoulder to mute her moans. Lips brushing the shell of her ear, you circle your thumb over her clit and whisper, “God, you are so beautiful. C’mon, baby, cum for me.”

Teeth chomp into your shoulder as her writhing becomes erratic against your hand before slowing as she relaxes against you. Her breathing evens out, quicker than you expect, her face becoming unreadable as it lifts from its hiding place. Surprisingly, she stays silently leaned against you as you wash your hands, letting you fix her hair before you fix your own.

Arturo and Giorgia seemingly notice nothing, believing the excuse of a busy line, one visible from your seats. If they don’t believe you, they don’t give anything away, though their questions ease up once the food comes. It must be a Schemmenti thing to be quiet for the first few bites of food, taking in every flavor. It’s endearing.

Both Schemmenti’s hug you, to even more surprise, telling you how delightful it was to put a face to a commonly brought up name. Melissa pinches the bridge of her nose before hugging her mother, mumbling something to the woman before embracing her father.

The entire drive back to her house, you can’t find it in you to speak, too lost in thought. Melissa talks about you, often, often enough that her parents wanted to meet you. Why would they question you so much, especially if you’re just their daughter’s friend? Wanting to know about your ‘past’ relationships, as opposed to what, your… current one? It hits you embarrassingly late, as Melissa pulls into the driveway: her parents think she’s talking about you because she’s dating you, and think she just hasn’t officially told them. All you can do is turn and look at her, bewildered.

Hand on the key in the ignition, Melissa turns and looks at you, “I don’t know about you, but I’m exha- What?” When she doesn’t get an answer, her face screws with worry, “what’s wrong, baby?”

Blinking rapidly, you scan over her face, “you talk about me to your parents.”

“Well I’m with you a lot, it's natural to talk about you,” she says like it’s obvious, turning off the car.

“Enough that your parents wanted to meet me, know about my family and dating history?”

Her face hardens, and you wish you’d never spoken, her voice demands respect “well, they got the wrong idea. Being nosy is in their blood, being right isn’t.”

“Okay,” you’re exasperated. 

“You and I, this isn’t a relationship, no expectations, no attachments. Just good, old-fashioned sex between friends,” Melissa says slowly, brow raised, “capisce?”

“Yeah…Capisce,” you say, stepping out of the car, pulling your keys from your pocket.

“What are you doing?” Melissa says, realizing you aren’t behind her as she goes to the front door.

You turn and face her, standing in the open car door, “I’m going home. You want no attachments, I can’t give that to you anymore.”

She steps down from the bottom step, “Baby-”

“Don’t. I don’t want you to be in something you don’t want, you want casual, Melissa. Stress relief,” her eyes dart to you at the wording, your eyes look down to your feet, “what I feel for you, it’s beyond that, beyond what you want me to feel.”

“You don’t know what I want,” she gets closer, hand reaching for you, but you brush her off.

“I’m all you want until I want you.” When she doesn’t reply, you sit and close the door, pulling out of the driveway with Melissa staring where you’d stood.

—☽—

Two weeks of radio silence. This is the longest in the near year you’ve spent with Melissa where you haven’t seen one another. Last time it was four days after you brought up a date for the second time, six days before that when she found out that Kristen Marie called you when she was drunk and needed a ride home from God-knows-where, begging you to not tell Melissa, accidentally blurting it herself.

You wish you didn’t miss her, her laugh, the smell of eucalyptus shampoo, her touch, her eyes, her hands, her smile, her little dance when she takes food out of the oven. She was all that surrounded you for so long, it’s all you know. It feels wrong to be without her, but it hurts to think about her. Salt entered the wound when Shauna dared to mention Melissa going on a date with some vending machine guy, immediate regret when you got up and left soon after. You're thankful to not hear of him again.

Another week passes, and as a month gets closer to passing, the hole in your chest has yet to heal over. Your phone buzzes next to you where you blankly watch the documentary that was playing.

From Shauna: i fucked up. apologies to ur door in advance

To Shauna: thank u for the context

From Shauna: i poked the ginger bear

From Shauna: by poked i mean chewed out

To Shauna: again, i fear the context has yet to appear

From Shauna: yelled at ur ex-mommy for treating you like a toy from spencers

To Shauna: i’ll pass on your apology to my door in my will

Comedic timing is a very real thing, hard knocking on your door, clearly both fists meeting the wood.

Ripping the door open, you stare down a tired-eyed, yet irate, Melissa, “unnecessary. I have a buzzer.”

“And I have a Cost-Co card,” she says, pushing her way into your home.

“What are you doing here?”

Hands on her hips, she turns and faces you, “your- I’d say our, but not right now- your friend just chewed me a new one about leading you on. Leading you on?! As if we didn’t have an arrangement, no feelings, just sex.”

“An agreement that I ended! Because I got feelings! It wasn’t just sex for me, it stopped being just sex a long time ago,” you never thought you’d be raising your voice at her like this, “I tried to tell you, all those dates I offered, everything I’ve ever said to you, I meant all of it. And what do I get? No, baby, we’re casual. So, I tapped out.”

“Because we were casual! There’s supposed to be no feelings here!”

“Then how’s that vending machine guy, huh? He’s been having conversations with just your tits for months, and he got a date, but where is he now?” She flounders. “Did you take him home? Or try?” She nods imperceptibly. “I would bet my whole life savings on the fact he probably couldn’t even get you wet, let alone make you cum. How right am I?”

Her lips tremble, “that’s not the point.”

“Just a question, needs an answer.” Melissa shakes her head, confirming your suspicions. “Why are you actually here, Melissa?”

Emerald eyes look into yours, emotion swirling through them as she asks quietly, “do you still have feelings for me?”

You won’t lie, you never can with her, “haven’t wavered once.”

Carefully, Melissa steps slowly into your space, hands coming to your sides, “I’m stupid. So fucking stupid. I thought all I wanted was sex, but when you left and I tried to just make myself… move on. It didn’t feel the same, being alone doesn’t feel the same. It’s so stupid and cliché and stupid that it took you leaving me to realize… Fuck, I feel like a Jane Austen character.”

Weary hands rise to her face, holding her with a special reverence, “I need to hear you say it.” The magnetic pull between you brings you into her, lips only an inch from her own.

Fingers grip your shirt, “I… I love you. I have since you told the Jehovah’s Witnesses to eat a bag of locusts and ass on Christmas Eve.”

The little smile that plays on her lips, clearly picturing the memory, it heals something in you. Brushing your lips against hers, you mumble, “I love you, too. ”

The kiss she presses to your lips is so different from any other you’d shared, but the desperation brings you back to that first night in the bathroom. Tongues graze, and a fire is ignited. Spinning her, you walk her back towards your bedroom, a place she’s only been twice in the last year.

Falling as her knees hit the bed, she takes you with her, and you gladly take your place. Just as the last time you were with her, you straddle her waist, continuing to kiss her with all the emotion you can express. Ringed fingers tug at your shirt, begging for contact. You don’t deny her, nor yourself, pulling her shirt off of her after yours, both lost on the floor. Jeans fly to meet them soon after.

Lips, tongue, and teeth clash as you fall into the feeling of each other’s skin. Moving down, you nip at her neck, sucking roughly on her pulse point to leave a mark. You continue your mission down her chest, leaving red splotches across her breasts. Always so sensitive, Melissa arches into your affections, groaning when your tongue swirls around her nipple, leaving a string of saliva that connects you to it as you pull away.

Shifting lower and lower, giving her abdomen attention, soft kisses trailing down. Your lips trail over silvery stretch marks, following as they lead you to her plush thighs. Teeth wrap around the waistband of her thong, eyes glancing to her as a silent request of permission.

“Please, baby,” her voice airy and whiny as she basks in the affection you so readily give her.

Pulling down her thong, tossing it to the side, your eyes fall to her pussy. Lips blooming in arousal, clit swollen, begging for a touch it hasn’t received in too long. You press a gentle kiss to her pearl, hearing another whine pass her lips, hips bucking slightly for you.

How you missed her. Your tongue licks up her slit, gathering the wetness that accumulated there, dancing up around her clit. A divine taste so feminine, so uniquely Melissa, you moan into her as you grip her thighs, working your tongue into her opening. Dusty purple nails dig into your hand, and you flip your wrist to interlock your fingers, feeling her squeeze tightly.

Your tongue leaves her, much to her dismay. Blown out eyes follow your reach to the nightstand, a clear bottle of lube procured. Your lips press to hers again as you spread the lube across your fingers and lower your hand to her entrance, replacing the contact of your tongue. Throaty moans leave her lips, more, please. Slowly, your ring finger joins the middle, allowing her a moment to adjust before quickening your motions, moaning yourself at the feeling of her cunt gripping your fingers.

“You’re so beautiful,” you say against her lips, “so beautiful.” Teeth pull at her bottom lip, making her groan into your mouth, kiss going sloppy.

“I- oh- I love you,” Melissa answers through a moan, grinding against your thumb on her sensitive bud. A particular curl of your fingers makes her silently scream, soothed by your gentle mouthing of her neck.

Your index finger lines with her slit, “can you take more?”

She nods quickly, forcing your lips back to hers as a third finger stretches slowly, moans turning squeaky. All you can hear is the airy moans and the wetness of her pussy taking your fingers, sparking a warmth in your lower stomach. You can feel how close she is, how her walls refuse to let go, how her eyes flutter as they roll back.

In a sudden moment, your fingers stop, pulling from her. Her head snaps up, eyes immediately on you, “what are you doing?” God, the glassy look in your eyes almost breaks your heart.

“Hold on, gorgeous,” you say, pressing a quick kiss to her chest. Leaning over to the nightstand again, still straddling Melissa’s waist as her hands hold yours, you blindly reach into the drawer, searching for a familiar object. Finding the small, flat toy, you sit back against her, holding it to her eye level. Catching your drift, she nods, legs widening as she sits up slightly against the headboard.

Pressing the vibrator against her thigh, you turn it to the middle setting, feeling her jump a little at the sensation. Slowly, you slide it closer to her clit, using your free hand to slide one of her legs till it’s propped up. Lowering yourself, you press your clit against the top of the toy, keeping it pressed between your heat and hers, both of you moaning in unison.

Rolling your hips, a breathless moan leaves you, ducking your head as your eyes close in ecstasy. Sharp nails dig into your ass, pulling you down further, moans crescendoing. It feels like you’re too far from her, immediately dropping to press your lips to hers in open-mouthed kisses, whining against her lips as she holds you to her. Using her thigh for leverage, you use your own leg to press harder to her cunt, rolling against her in a way that forces her teeth into your shoulder.

The strong vibration against your clit and Melissa’s presence alone has you holding on by a thread, and from the way the redhead is holding onto you, you know she is too. Putting your weight fully on your right hand, your left grabs Melissa’s, tangling your fingers together. Her lips move languidly across yours, tongue dancing with yours rather than fighting for dominance, something she never did before. The emotions of it all and the coil snapping in your stomach, your forehead drops to her shoulder, panting as you feel your climax approach.

“Baby, ple-oh-please,” the hand creating crescent-shaped dents in your back shifts to your hair.

“I gotchu, let go for me,” your teeth tug at her earlobe, “cum for me, beautiful.”

A final, hard roll of your hips sets you both alight, moaning as you cum in tandem.

Both of you squirm as the toy works against you still. Lifting off her, you remove the toy from its place against her, turning it off and placing it on the nightstand to be dealt with later. Lowering yourself, you come face to face with her pussy, swollen and wet and beautiful. With gentle strokes, you lick her clean, taking your time to savor her taste.

Melissa’s husky moans spur you on, lapping up to her sensitive clit. Barely suckling on the nub has her tensing again, her grip on you doesn’t let you go far, not that you were planning on it regardless. She cums on your tongue, giving you a taste once more. Sweet decadence.

Easing your way back up with loving kisses up her body, laying on your side next to her, chest to chest. Your legs stay tangled together, no space exists between you.

The hand not in hers rises to her face, pushing loose, wild hair away, caressing her cheek. Melissa turns her head to press a kiss to your thumb, her own hand coming to your wrist.

“I love you,” she says, “I really, really do.”

You stroke her cheek again, “I love you, too.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have treated you how I did,” her eyes water, “I don’t have any excuses. I’m just so sorry, baby.”

“Well, we’ve got all the time you want with me to make it up to me,” you say, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose.

She smiles weakly, “I want all the time with you.”

Your lips press to her lips this time, “then that’s what you get.” Leaning across you, Melissa puts herself on your lap, her favorite place to sit. Face hovering above yours for only a moment, she tucks herself into the crook of your neck, keeping her weight on top of you.

Sticky with sweat, the scent of sex around you, the tracing of nails up and down your sides, dancing over your ribs. Nothing has changed and everything has. You have always been Melissa’s, she has always been yours, now you finally have each other. Warm breath over your neck evens out, the lost sleep and recently lost energy catching up to her. You, however, you are invigorated.

For the first time in a year, you get to hold your Melissa.

kudos to anyone that can find all the song references and the singular lisa ann reference that is so small u will miss it

as towa bird says: scissor your friends!

feed back appreciated as always <3

[strnsvt]

hi lovely, I see that your reqs is open & i have decided to be brave and request for some cheol fluff (this cheol brainrot is real & it's killing me 🥲) take your time tho!!!! hehe have a good day 🤍

choi seungcheol — aisles of reconciliation.

the last time cheol fought with you was long back. just like every couple, it happens, as it sometimes does, nothing surprising, nothing unhealthy.

he got a little pouty this time, his expression softening with realization that he had messed up. he knew he needed to give you space and time to cool off.

leaving the apartment, he wandered the quiet streets alone, hoping the night air might clear his mind. but as the minutes ticked by, the solitude only deepened his restlessness.

he pulled out his phone and dialed soonyoung's number, hoping his friend could provide some distraction. "soonyoung," seungcheol greeted as the call connected, "are you busy?"

"not really," soonyoung replied casually, "what's up, man?"

"nothing it's just-"

"it's not 'nothing'. you're calling me at this hour. what's wrong?"

"...i messed up," seungcheol admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. "fought with y/n again."

"ah, man," soonyoung sympathized, "you know how it is. what happened?"

seungcheol sighed, recounting the argument briefly.

"give it some time," soonyoung advised sagely, "we'll catch up soon, okay?"

"yeah," seungcheol nodded, hanging up the phone. he pocketed it and continued his walk, hoping to find a way to make things right with you.

soonyoung met him shortly after, the two friends greeting each other with a brief hug.

they walked together to the nearby cvs, chatting about lighter topics to distract seungcheol from his worries. once inside the store, they wandered the aisles, picking up a few items and talking through the situation more.

"hyung..." soonyoung snaps cheol to consciousness, noticing that cheol had been subconsciously staring at a particular aisle.

"take it along with snacks and drinks. if not by apology or food, there's gotta be a third way to woo her. so buy it," soonyoung suggests.

your initial response after seeing cheol back home was to hug him—which you didn't. holding yourself back, balling your hands into fists as you stare at each other for a few seconds.

he sees you reaching up to grab onto the bag he was holding, watching with adoration as he sees you grab onto your favourite snack and placing the bag on the counter.

taking his shoes off before entering, cheol takes a moment to look at you. you were wearing cosy and comfy clothes. meaning you're heading to bed.

"babe, we gotta have dinner first,"

cheol's words were ignored as you reached out for another pack of snack from the bag.

the precious snack from your hand was shortly snatched, as you watched cheol with horror and confusion.

it was his time to ignore you when you kept telling him not to order food. his phone snatched right after he dialed three digits. it was his turn to get annoyed as well, grabbing onto your wrist tightly and pulling you closer.

his mind diving into the gutter deeper if possible. just a little closer and he'd have the kiss he yearned. and you waited for it too—cause maybe you yearned to give him the affection that he craved for so long.

but instead, he simply snatches his phone back, keeping in mind to not cross the boundaries. but he's a bit selfish too. still holding onto your wrist and keeping you closer. until distraction in the form of the pack of condoms fall from the bag.

you're not looking at him, he's doesn't really have more courage to keep staring at you. but he already assumed what you might be thinking. he assumed you were thinking of his audacity...

you shove him away as you head to the bedroom while cheol reminds himself that he's still gotta order food. and he lets out the most heart-wrenching sigh any living creature has ever made.

choel sees you eating the chips while being in the bed. considering if he should nag at you or make a lame joke about getting ants in the bed. he decides to shut up instead. thinking that yeah, that's probably the better thing to do.

you're already lying on your side when cheol plops on the bed beside you. putting an arm around your waist as he pulls you in closer, he apologizes.

you let out a deep breath, him feeling you resisting the urge to push his hand away.

he makes you turn to face him. his voice seeming much bold and stricter only for him to go dead silent when you do so.

eyes shamlessly falling onto your lips. and oh how he wanted to have those make-out sessions.

he takes your hand in his instead. kissing on the cold knuckles as says sorry again. placing more kisses on your fingertips while repeatedly apologizing.

and the soft features you had on while looking at him soon turned into annoyed once. yet again. as you scold him. pointing all the mistakes he made. which he only agrees with, repeating that he knows. he knows.

"i know. and im sorry. can i kiss you now?"

and you give in. telling him yes but man the time wasn't on his side. and the doorbell with the awaiting delicious meal never sounded more frustrating.

[joelswritingmistress]

Neighbors With Benefits: Chapter 11 (Joel Miller x f!reader)

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2500

Warning: Mild smut/fluff

You were back to bliss. Loving Joel had you high as a kite and light as a feather. You might as well have skipped your way around that afternoon leading up to your planned night away with him.

Since you didn't have to lie to your mother anymore, at least not fully, you took your time packing your things for the night before heading out the door. Joel was already out on the course with your father, and so all that was left for you to do was check in. With your father occupied, also playing golf, you figured checking in to the room would be a safe bet.

Your heart rate picked up when you drove through the parking lot of the hotel, knowing the golf course was adjacent to it. For good measure, you tossed on a pink and blue netted ball cap and hurried inside with your duffle bag slung over one shoulder. You caught a quick glimpse of yourself in the door’s reflection and decided you did good by wearing a cute but casual blue and yellow checkered, button down dress.

As you approached the front desk a middle-aged woman smiled. “Checking in?” She asked.

You nodded. “The room should be under Joel Miller and (Y/N).” You couldn't help but couple yourself with him. It was like a personal badge of honor to broadcast that you two were together - even if it was just to one stranger.

“Looks like you're already paid in full,” the woman explained, “Can I just see some ID, please?”

You nodded and retrieved your drivers license from your purse and eagerly handed it over.

“Thank you.” She glanced at your photo, typed a few things into her computer and handed it back. “Would you like both cards, or will Mr. Miller be by to pick his up?”

“I'll take both cards and just let him know I've arrived,” you decided on the spot.

“You got it.” She shoved both key cards into a white, paper sleeve and handed them to you. “Room 612. Elevators are around this corner. Breakfast tomorrow goes from seven to ten and there are fitness rooms on every floor. Pool is on ground level and the bar in the lounge is open until midnight.”

“Thank you!” You smiled, readjusted your bag and hurried around the corner to the elevators.

..

“Thanks for inviting me, Tim.” Joel exchanged a handshake with your father and the two of them chipped away at the bottom halves of their beers.

“Of course.” He gave a nod. “I hope you and the Mrs. can work things out. My wife says Cecille moved back in.”

Joel cleared his throat and took a swig from his beer. “She.. she's back in the house but we're not..” he shook his head, “..we're not getting back together.”

“Oh.” Your father's eyebrows raised, “Well, I'm sorry to have mis-spoke.”

“It's fine.”

He shook his head. “No, I shouldn't have said anything.”

“It's fine,” Joel assured him. “Cecille just decided to drop back in with no notice.” He added, “So, I appreciate the hotel room. You didn't have to do that.” There was guilt that rested on Joel's shoulders, knowing Tim’s daughter was accompanying him overnight.

“You're a good man,” Tim went on, adding insult to injury. “If you need anything from us, let Jen or I know.”

“Thank you.” Joel's smile faded a bit and he masked it by the bottle. He knew his feelings for his neighbor’s only daughter were real; but he was fairly certain that Tim wouldn't see it that way.

Fuck.

“We’re having that picnic tomorrow,” your father reminded Joel as the two of them hopped into the golf cart that would lead them back to the club. “Feel free to stop by and have a beer and a burger.”

“Sounds good.”

Your father cruised the golf cart the short distance back and Joel helped him load his clubs into the trunk of his car. The men parted ways with a handshake as Joel thanked him again for the room.

“I hope you get things sorted out,” your father said with a nod. He gave a wave and slunk into the driver’s seat before driving away as the sun began to creep below the trees.

Joel loaded his car and scooted around the corner to the posh, little hotel that was tucked into the trees and overlooked the course. He made his way inside, checked in at the front desk and made his way up to room 612.

Butterflies made home in your stomach when you heard the door to the hotel room click open. You were about to rise to your feet to greet Joel, though he made his way into the room before you could.

A smile bloomed on your face when your eyes locked. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Joel grinned back and shrugged his bag off his shoulder to the floor.

“How was golf?”

“Fine.” He stood at the foot of the bed with his hands on his hips.

“Did my dad shoot for par?” You snickered but saw Joel couldn't quite smile. “What's wrong?”

Joel rounded the bed and sat down on the side of it, placing a hand gently on your ankle. You knew he couldn't help it when he leaned in and kissed you. It made you smile into the kiss.

He pulled back just an inch or two. “I feel bad for lying to your parents about all this.”

“It's not exactly a lie,” you reminded him.

Joel's eyes remained set on yours. He sighed and let his thumb dance along your ankle bone. “He comped me the room.” He began to shake his head and then looked back up.

You toyed with his hair and then rested a hand on the side of his face. “You might be the best man I've ever met.” You meant it, seeing the guilt in Joel's eyes.

“A good man wouldn't…” He shrugged.

“Joel,” you said, making his eyes meet yours again. “We’re not doing anything wrong. I get that we're neighbors, and that you're friendly with my parents, but I'm an adult.. and I love you. There's nothing wrong with what we're doing.”

Joel never looked away. His hand snaked up your calf, and he began to run his hand up and down the area. He tipped the corner of his lips up in a half-smirk. “You make a solid argument.”

You pulled him back to you, kissing him a little firmer. “As soon as I land my first real job I'm moving out,” you added, “And then you can come over to my place guilt free whenever you want.” You guided him down on top of you on the bed.

Joel’s tongue penetrated your lips and your arms wrapped around his back. “Then we wouldn't be neighbors anymore,” he whispered with a little laugh, making you smile against him.

As your hands pushed up at the back of his shirt, Joel aided your pursuit of him and ducked out of it. He hovered above you, locking his arms in place on either side of where you laid.

“I was going to take you to dinner first,” Joel said in all honesty while still smirking down at you.

“I say we do it all backwards tonight.” Your hand rested on his forearm. “Sex, dessert then dinner.”

Joel huffed a laugh. “Well, I usually don't put out unless my meal’s paid for, honey.”

You laughed a little louder, pushing yourself partway up and resting your hands behind you. Your lips were only an inch or so from his.

“If you really want to take me to dinner first I'll let you.”

Joel never broke eye contact as his fingers reached for the top button of your dress and undid it. He then did the same with the second and the third until you were able to easily shrug your shoulders out of the top of it.

Neither of you said anything else. You accepted a long, sensual kiss from Joel as your hand made home on the side of his face.

You couldn't get enough of him. You wanted to feel the weight of Joel's body. You wanted him inside of you - all the time. You wanted to watch the expression on his face and feel his breaths against your neck. Every moment of intimacy left you feeling needy and satisfied all at once.

When you felt him fill you, your breath became short. You had waited for this all afternoon - as if you hadn't just been with him in your parents’ kitchen earlier in the day. Still, it felt too long.

Joel’s fist gripped the pillow as his other pulled up on the back of your thigh. He nudged your legs apart wider with his knee and drove himself deeper into you.

“Fuck,” you whimpered the word and it motivated him to repeat the movement again and again. “Joel.” You wanted him so badly.

Your legs pressed firmly into the outsides of his, securing him between your legs as if to tell him never to stop. And he didn't; not until he was a sweaty, panting mess on top of you, groaning out as much of your name as he could manage as he buried himself in you a final time.

Fuck. There was something euphoric about watching Joel orgasm. Not only watching but feeling him in that moment. The muscles tensed in his back and shoulders, you could feel it beneath your palms. It was erotic and hot and made you fall deeper and deeper for him. You were a Joel Miller addict.

Your lips pressed together and Joel hummed a moan into your mouth. He rocked his hips gently into you a final couple of times before letting his head fall on the pillow beneath you.

Your eyes flickered open and you eyed the ceiling, still clinging to him as he remained dormant inside of you. Your breathing steadied and you swallowed hard. Before Joel you always thought sappy moments to be corny and unrealistic. While you still wouldn't label yourself as the lovey dovey type, you couldn't help but whisper to him.

“I love you, Joel.” You felt it fiercely and fully. Since first meeting Joel, you were a changed woman.

He lifted his head and planted a firm kiss on your lips, making your eyes close again. Joel then pecked your lips several times in a row. “I fucking love you,” he said in an enthusiastic whisper.

Dessert and dinner were halted by your lust for one another. After a short intermission littered with pillow talk and gentle touches, Joel pulled you on top of him for another round of love-making followed by an aftercare shower together.

When the two of you were finally seated in a dark corner of the hotel lounge, you were still fully flushed and glowing.

Joel's hand topped yours on the table and he smirked across the way, highlighting a set of boyish dimples. “Dessert first,” he reminded you.

Your finger traced over the back of the menu. “Something decadent.”

“You already had that,” he teased, still grinning behind his menu.

“I'll require an encore,” you said back, making him laugh.

“You may be the death of me.”

“I'll be gentle.”

The two of you shared a laugh before ordering a pair of espresso martinis and two pieces of what appeared to be a rich, chocolate cake. When the dessert arrived, it didn't disappoint.

Joel forked a bite of his own and extended an arm across the table, slipping a bite into your mouth. “Decadent?” He asked.

“Very.” You raised your martini glass as you finished the bite. “To..”

“Us,” Joel finished when you didn't.

You smiled. “To us.” You tapped your glass against his. “And tackling the obstacles together.”

“I'm glad I have you in my corner, baby. It's been a long time since I've felt that way.” He took a sip, prompting you to do the same, and then you leaned across the high top table to leave a chaste kiss on his lips.

“I'll always be in your corner.”

Joel's eyes never left yours. “I know.”

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@mellymbee @pedropascal111 @axshadows @mybritishstyle @untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @goodvibesonly421 @cosmic006533-blog @ashleyfilm @maybetomorrowgirl @rebeccawinters @cuteanimalmama @writlingerz @vickie5446 @drewharrisonwriter @churchofjoemiller

[tightjeansjavi]

The Menu | Part 4

“splinters in his knuckles bangin’ on your door”

A/N: remember that meme I posted earlier about how this was supposed to just be a silly little smut fic? Yeahhh about that..🥴

~word count: 6.3k~

Pairing | dark!joel miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel goes a little berserk after he doesn’t see you for almost an entire day.

Warnings: SA (not by Joel, not described in detail) implied prostitution, abuse of power/abuse by law enforcement, (FEDRA) unhealthy trauma response, degrading language, mentions of guns, threats, injures from punching a door, mentions of blood, removing splinters, dark!joel, mean!joel, protective!joel, is shit at communicating his feelings!joel, asshole!joel, FEDRA SUCKS, no smut, denial of feelings, stalking, possession, morally gray relationship to the reader, (they’re kinda toxic but it’s complicated) hurt feelings, angst, some fluff, age gap, (Joel is in his 40’s reader is in her late 20’s) reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!

Joel Miller cracked under the pressure when almost an entire day went by without a lick of your presence. Cracking under the pressure was..a severe misjudgment. All rationale was thrown out the door; he had gone completely balls to the wall insane.

It started in the morning when you didn’t show up to your ‘job’ where you and Joel would spend grueling hours dumping deceased infected. Of course, everyone around him could give less of a shit about your absence. And why should they care? It was a dog eat dog world in the QZ. Every man for himself. To Joel? This was a real problem. A thorn in his side because, well, frankly? You might have meant more to him than just a vice to fill a void. Or a warm body to stick his dick in. Maybe he had reluctantly grown to care for you in his own Joel way.

So, when he found himself in line for his ration cards, his eyes zoned in on the FEDRA officer you fucked out of spite. The same one who did business at Joel’s table while Joel’s fingers fucked you to ruin. He had to start somewhere, right?

“Y’got a minute?” Joel asked casually as he shoved his ration cards into the pocket of his jeans.

“Shoot.” Benjamin, better known as Benji, what the fuck kinda name is that.

“Y’seen Angel around this mornin?’ She’s usually out here with me. Didn’t show up.”

“Nope.” Benji responded smoothly.

Joel’s brow raised as he studied the other man’s face intently. He was looking for any clues, any indication that maybe this Benji fellow had something to do with your bizarre absence.

“Right. Well, if ya see her, tell ‘er Joel’s lookin’ for her.” He shoved his hands deep into his jean pockets.

If Benji was good for anything, it was ratting QZ folks out. So, maybe he did know where you were. He had no viable reason to tell Joel shit. In fact, he was the main reason for your absence. Not only did he catch you out past curfew, but with a handful of contraband that could have easily gotten you a week in lockup. He showed you just a smidge of mercy simply for the fact that you offered him a blowjob just to keep your ass off the line, and only in lockup for one single day.

Joel had no business knowing that, of course.

“Well, well, well. Whad’we have here?” Benji stepped out from the shadows of the darkly lit alleyway as a FEDRA patrol vehicle drove by.

“One hour past curfew, Angel. That’s a deduction of cards, and a night in lockup.” He tsked.

Your face scrunched inwards, as if you had tasted something pungent and sour. “Benji? Fuck. C’mon, man. Just let me pass on through. It’ll be like I was never here.” You thought you were being fairly reasonable especially since he did a lot of business with Joel. You thought that maybe you could get yourself off the hook easily.

“Can’t do that, Angel.” He sighed.

“My name is not Angel. And yes, you can. Just pretend that you never saw me.”

“Oh.” He chuckled, shaking his head as he reached for his concealed handgun. “So, I guess buddy boy can call you Angel, but I can’t?”

For fuck sakes.

“Christ, is that what this is about? Who has the bigger dick? What, are you jealous or somethin?’” You egged him on as you reached for your own concealed gun before an unpleasant chill ran down your spine from the familiar clicking sound of the revolver.

“Jealous? Now, why would I be jealous, Angel? Ain’t you just a common street whore? You’ll let anyone stick their dick in ya if they pay well. Ah, but you got that Joel Miller wrapped around your pretty little finger. Everyone ‘round here knows he’s your guard dog. Where is he now, hm?” He cocked his head to the side.

“Look, Benji, you’re a good lookin’ guy and all that, but I fucked you out of spite. I’ll stroke your ego or whatever, but can I please just fuckin’ go home now?” You were exhausted from the grueling day. Your feet ached, your whole body felt like a bunch of pins and needles were stabbing it all at once. All you wanted was to go home, pour yourself a stiff glass, and have a smoke. Was it really too much to ask?

“Turn around. Hands against the wall. No sudden movements.” He ignored every word that left your mouth as if it meant nothing as if you truly were just a whore. For the first time in a long time, you felt dirty. Like something that was disposable. A toy that was no longer shiny and new, but dull and tattered. It made your blood boil.

“Benji—is that really necessary?” You tried to reason with him, but your attempts were fruitless.

“I said turn the fuck around and put your hands against the goddamn wall. Don’t make me ask you a third time, Angel. I ain’t have all night.” His jaw ticked impatiently.

“Okay. Okay. You don’t have to ask me again.” You reluctantly turned around with your hands above your head before placing your palms flat against the brick wall. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, slicing the skin open from the pressure as you tasted copper along your tongue when he yanked you back by the hips as if he owned them.

“That’s right. Because that Joel Miller sure turned you into an obedient little cockslut, didn’t he?” Benji chuckled deeply against the shell of your ear. His hot breath on your skin sent a wave of nausea crawling up your throat.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about, Benji.” You hissed through your gritted teeth as he began to forcefully pat you down. You thought about trying to escape, but decided that would have been fucking reckless to even try.

“Oh, now what do we have here?” He said rather gleefully as he pulled out a baggy of pills. The same baggy of pills that Joel gave to you the night before to deliver to a client.

“Those aren’t mine.” Well, that was dumb.

“No? Hmm. You’re not good at this whole lyin’ game, Angel. Let’s see what else we got here.” He pulled out your gun from the belt loop of your jeans along with tinfoil wrapped cigarettes; fresh ones that Joel had rolled you.

“Well, my dear, you’re lookin’ at about a week in lockup just from this alone. Unless..” he trailed off knowing exactly what you’d offer him in return.

“You’re sick, y’know that?” You scoffed under your breath. Men really did only ever think with their dicks.

“Jus’ doin’ my job, Angel. So, what’re you gonna offer me, hmm? Make it good and I’ll only throw you in there for a day. Sounds fair?”

“Right. Your job at bein’ a fuckin’ rat? I’ll give you a blowie, right here, right now. I think that seems pretty fair, don’t you?” The sooner this is over, the sooner I get to go home.

“Hm.” He pondered it for a moment, as if he really had to think hard on your offer. “Deal. But I want you to act enthusiastic this time, and take your tits out. I’m gonna paint them and your face in my come, and you’re gonna sit there and fuckin’ take it, and if you don’t?” He flipped you around swiftly, caging you against the wall as he brought the barrel of the gun right against your temple, “I’ll spray your brains out right against this fuckin’ wall.”

This wasn’t the first time you had been threatened by a man in the QZ, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but the all too real gun being pressed against your forehead was alarming, and your brain went into compliance mode in an instant. Truthfully, you didn’t want to die, and certainly not in a manner such as this.

All you could think about as you slowly sank down to your knees, and as the pavement nipped at your exposed skin, was that Joel would never do something like this to you.

“Sure, you’ll be the first to know if I’ve seen her, Miller.” He nodded.

Something about Benji, and his stupid face, sent Joel’s hackles rising. But before he could even mutter a reply, Benji was walking away towards the other FEDRA officers.

Joel shook his head while he flipped through his ration cards for the day. He was doing his best to block out all the possible scenarios of your disappearance, but he failed miserably when he realized there was a high possibility that you were either dead, or infected. It happened more often than people would think.

The real start of his manhunt began after he confided in Tess in the utmost Joel fashion. He found himself pacing the length of his apartment while all she could do was watch from the entryway in the kitchen. Her arms were crossed over her chest as she leaned back against the countertop. Her eyes trailed after his frantic movements.

“Look, before you go thinkin’ about doin’ somethin’ reckless, did you ever stop to think that maybe she’s just in her apartment? She could have slept in—”

He cut her off sharply with a quick shake of his head. “Sleepin’ in? Really, is that all Y’got for me, Tess? I knew she should have just fuckin’ spent the night. She’s so goddamn stubborn. I would have even slept on the couch and she could have taken the bed if it was such a big deal. She’s so hot’n cold!” He growled frustratingly. His hands moved upwards towards his head as his fingers tangled through his hair, yanking at the roots till he was feeling a splice of pain. “Or, better yet, I should have just walked her home myself!”

“Texas, you’re actin’ fuckin’ insane right now! Pacin’ the goddamn apartment like a dog. Ripping your hair out?!” Just calm the fuck down for a second. Take some deep breaths, have a smoke or somethin’ and then let’s both think rationally.” She tried to reason with him. All this got her in return was a narrowed glare, a scoff and an eye roll.

“She could be fuckin’ dead, Tess! What if somethin’ happened between her leavin’ here last night and walkin’ back to her place?”

“I highly doubt she’s dead. And if she was, we would have heard about it by now, Joel. Do you want me to help you look for her? Cause I can start askin’ around.” She pushed herself off the side of the counter just as his pacing came to a complete standstill.

“Sure, yeah. Go ahead and ask around. But, before you do that, I need ya to tell me where Angel lives. I’m aware that you know, and that she doesn’t want me to know, but you’re gonna tell me either way.” He stated as a matter of factly.

“Joel, she doesn’t want you knowing where she lives for obvious reasons. How about you stay here, and I’ll go to her apartment. Like I said, I’m sure she’s just fine.”

“Yeah? Well, those reasons are irrelevant as of right now. So, quit your little girl code you got goin’ on with her or whatever, and tell me where the fuck her apartment is.”

Tess didn’t even bother to argue. She knew Joel long enough to know that he wasn’t going to stop until he found that you were safe. Otherwise, the unknown and the ‘what ifs’ would eat him alive, literally.

“You’re fuckin’ relentless, Texas. Y’know that?” She pulled out her own personal map of the QZ before laying it out on the worn down kitchen table. She pointed to your exact apartment building. “She’s on the third floor at the very end of the hall.”

“Yep. You damn right I am, Tess. You know me too well.” He merely glanced down at the spot on the map where Tess was pointing at before he snatched up the parchment, folding it neatly and tucked it into his back pocket.

“I’ll be needing that back, Texas.” Tess reminded him.

“And I’ll be bringin’ it right back as soon as I find her.” Joel responded smoothly, dripping in confidence to mask his true nature. Just like those women he used to sleep with, he could put up a facade with just a snap of his fingers.

“Yeah, well, you’re losin’ daylight. Better go find that Angel of yours.”

“Better me than anyone else.” Joel added with a curt nod. He left the apartment in a rush, skipping a few steps down the stairs. He never handled change of any kind all that well. Especially when you had become a constant in his life while living in this shit hole place. If something had happened to you, Joel would force himself to take all the blame. He felt responsible for you in some capacity.

“Swear to god when I find this girl..” he muttered to himself, shaking his head while slipping past the front door of the apartment building. Evening was steadfast on the horizon; he needed to move fast.

Was it something I said last night?

Was it because I asked her to stay?

Was it the goddamn strap on??

Is she avoiding me on purpose?

Is she dead?

Did she fuckin’ get infected?

Did..she find someone else?

These thoughts and more were swirling through his frantic brain. He fucking hated the fear of the unknown. Absolutely despised the whole entire notion of its existence. He’d much prefer when things were yanked off like a bandaid. Quick and mostly painless.

He triple checked Tess’s map the entire trek to your apartment building. He had no time to fuck this up, and to the passerby he probably looked like a crazed man; which would be an accurate statement given the circumstances.

Your apartment building was nearly an exact replica of his own. Same shitty staircase, peeling wallpaper, the occasional cry of an infant, or scream of a child. Just the day-to-day sounds of the QZ that we’re all white noise to Joel.

When he found himself standing outside your door, he scoffed at the faded “Welcome :)” mat outside of your door beneath his boots. The smiley face had nearly rubbed off entirely, and he wondered if the mat had been there by your doing, or the previous inhabitants.

Focus, Joel.

He pressed the side of his head against the outside of the door, falling silent as he listened with his good ear for any movements on the other side.

Nothing.

“Angel? Y’in there, doll?” He asked through the thin wood.

Silence.

“Look, I’m sorry if I said somethin’ to upset you last night, but I haven’t seen you all fuckin’ day, and I’m real worried that somethin’ bad happened to ya. So, if you’re in there, can you please say something?”

Nothing.

“Okay. Okay, so maybe I do deserve the silent treatment after I made you hold my cock in your mouth like a cum bucket whore, but it was uh—out of affection? And if you’re upset that I asked ya to stay the night, then I’m sorry. It was just late and I wanted to—”

This is fucking stupid.

“Can you fuckin’ answer me, please? Just fuckin’ say something!” He growled, throwing his fists against the door once for good measure. “I’m about five seconds away from lookin’ like a complete and utter psychopath if you don’t open this goddamn door!” His frustration was on the cusp of boiling over, like a kettle on the stove.

“Okay, so we’re gonna play the silent game, huh?! I swear to god, Angel. If you’re behind this goddamn door and you’re ignoring me on purpose?! Good god, girl. You got another thing comin’ for ya!” He laughed, one of those unfriendly, chills down the spine, oh shit! I’m fucked kinda laughs.

Joel Miller had completely lost all remaining shreds of rationale.

“I’m gonna give you to the count of five to open this fuckin’ door, y’hear me?!” He snarled threateningly.

“Five.”

“Four.”

“Three.”

He didn’t even get to two before his fists absolutely began to rain down on your doorframe. The cord had snapped and he was fully spiraling without giving a damn of who could see or hear him.

With adrenaline, rage, and fear pumping through his veins, he couldn’t even feel the skin along his knuckles being absolutely torn to shreds from how hard he was laying his fists into the wood.

It's like he had completely blacked out and all he could see was red. Red. Red. Red. Red.

Benji was ‘generous’ enough to let you out of being in lockup early and sent you right back out onto the streets. Ridden with exhaustion, you practically dragged yourself back to your apartment with only the thought of a stiff drink and your bed bringing you some form of motivation to keep going.

Your keys jingled in your grasp while you trudged up the stairs. You were oh so close to just plopping down in the hallway, but your apartment was only just down the hall. You could make it.

You passed by one of your neighbors on your way. And when you went to wave, they completely avoided making eye contact with you at all costs. Somehow you just knew that Joel was involved in this behavior, but how the hell did he know where you lived?

Then, you heard the sounds of banshee yelling intensifying the closer you drew to your door.

Jesus fucking Christ. Can’t a girl catch a break?

When you turned the corner, you were met with a grizzly bear of a man. Joel Miller had nearly beaten your door in with just his bare fists. You weren’t even all that shocked to see him outside of your apartment, but, nonetheless, you were pissed.

You leaned against the corner of the hallway, arms crossed against your chest and a displeased, yet mildly amused look plastered on your face.

“Joel?”

He whipped around in an instant at the familiar sound of your voice. His eyes were wide, nostrils flared, blood dripping down between the ridges of his knuckles, staining the already faded carpet crimson beneath his boots.

He looked crazy.

“Where in the fuck have you been? Do you know how fuckin’ worried I’ve been all goddamn day?! Huh, sweet girl? Do you have any idea—”

“You’re bleeding, sweet boy.” You mumble softly. You had hoped that you could advert his attention, but he was already stalking towards you, something indescribable flashes in his eyes when you call him, ‘sweet boy.’

“Yeah, baby.” He huffs out a raspy laugh. “I’ve got splinters in my knuckles bangin’ on your door. Tore ‘em all up.”

He’s so close now that you can taste his breath and see that flicker of fear in his eyes. His hands encaged around your face. Soft, wet from the blood, but gentle.

Droplets of blood trail down your neck and down the clavicle between your covered breasts. You shouldn’t be turned on—but that cunt of yours has a mind of her own, sometimes.

“Joel, you didn’t have to show up here like a crazy man and nearly go and break down my door.”

He glares, bloodstained thumb swiping across your lower lip. “Don’t tell me what I did and didn’t have to do, Angel. Haven’t seen you all day. Thought you were fuckin’ dead or somethin.’”

“Yeah, well, I’m not dead. I’m right here. Why the hell did you even care in the first place, huh? Can’t even go one day without losing your cool?” It’s your turn to challenge him now. You place your palms flat on his chest, giving him a firm shove.

He glared, eyes narrowing into slits. His head cocked to the side in a condescending manner. His jaw clenched and unclenched. He dropped his hands from your face only to then encage your wrists above your head. He used his sheer mass to press your back directly against the hallway wall. He loomed over you to appear more menacing, like a predator going in for the kill. “Who said anythin’ about me caring, huh? Is that why you think I’m here, Angel? Cus’ I care?” He questioned, pushing you further into the wall. His chest was pressed right against yours, leaving you no room to escape, let alone breathe.

“Why would I give a damn where my whore on stilts wandered off to? Y’think you mean anythin’ to me other than a hole to fuck? Don’t be so naive.” He scoffed.

“You have got to be the worst fuckin’ liar, Joel. Right. You don’t care. You just happened to track down where I live, proceeded to bust down my door, just because I’m a hole for you to fuck? Right. Keep on telling yourself that, buddy boy. Keep livin’ in your delusions. See how far that gets ya.” You held in your laugh from slipping past. Could he not see that you were exhausted? You had been beaten down enough as it was, you didn’t need Joel fucking Miller pushing you down further.

“That’s it? That’s all y’can say to me? No bite back? No fuck you Joel? What the hell happened to you, huh?” He pressed further, tightening his hold around your wrists. “What happened after you left my place last night, Angel?” His tone was much softer now, gentle, laced with concern.

You couldn’t keep up with his mood swings if you tried. Joel Miller was one hot and cold man.

“No. We are not about to do this again. Not when in one breath you’re a complete asshole, and the next?!” You laughed bitterly. “Joel, I’m fuckin’ exhausted, okay? I had a shit night, and I just want to go and have a stiff drink. If you want to join, then be my guest, but I won’t take another minute of your bitching. Y’got that?”

Joel found himself studying your face. He thought that maybe he could read between the lines and figure out exactly why you were so exhausted, but you weren’t budging, not even for him. What was that bit about him fucking hating the fear of the unknown? Oh, yeah.

“Angel, look..I’m—”

“Oh, fuck no. You are not about to apologize for that. No. You meant every word, Joel. You don’t get to take that back.” You shook your head in disappointment, breaking your wrists free from his gradually loosening grip before you pulled away entirely.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

You didn’t even wait to see if he would follow you, you could care less if he did, or didn’t. With your keys in hand you unlocked your door, muttering about how it probably wouldn’t lock properly anymore from the damage Joel inflicted on it.

Joel’s fingers twitched at his side. He was silently debating his options. It was pointly obvious that something had happened to you, but he had no right to pry. His footsteps followed yours like a shadow.

“You should probably get your knuckles patched up.” You muttered under your breath while carelessly tossing your keys onto the kitchen counter.

“They’ll be alright. Nothin’ I can’t handle.” He replied smoothly and shoved his hands into the deep caverns of the pockets on the front of his worn jeans.

“I have a first aid kit in the bathroom.” You stated plainly. Your back was facing him behind the counter while you grabbed your stashed bottle of whiskey, and two glasses.

He was observing you with a careful eye when you turned around to face him. “Are you offering to patch up my self-inflicted wounds, baby?” He asked in a crackling rasp, like logs on a fire.

“Sure. If that’s how you want to phrase it.” You shrugged before popping the cap off the bottle with your teeth. You poured a generous splash of the amber colored liquor into both glasses. You opted to take a quick swig from the bottle, needing that little bit of relief to kick in sooner, rather than later.

“Why?” He questioned. He reached for the glass, guiding it towards him before he snatched it up in his hand. He took a hefty sip, letting the warmth from the liquor spread through his system like a warm hug.

“Are you really that fuckin’ stupid, Joel?” You wanted to laugh, but it came out more like a strained scoff if anything.

“‘Fraid so, my Angel.” He smirked over the rim of the cloudy glass.

“Guess the apocalypse shrunk men’s already pea sized brains even more.” You muttered with a shake of your head before downing the liquor from your glass in one swift gulp. Your hand wrapped around his thick wrist, and before he could protest, you were dragging him to your bathroom.

“Sit” you commanded with a gesture to the closed toilet seat.

“Look, you really don’t have to do all this, it’s justa—”

You interjected swiftly, giving him a stern glare before grabbing the first aid kit from behind the cabinet door that was barely holding on by the hinges. “Okay, so then leave, Joel.”

His brows furrowed at your response, and his lips pursed tightly. He ultimately decided to plop down on the toilet seat with a huff. “Are you going to tell me where the hell you’ve been all day? Or are you just gonna keep avoidin’ my question?”

“If you’re good, then I’ll tell you. Cause frankly, right now? I’m sick of your shit, Joel. But somehow, some way, my cold cold heart has a shred of kindness left for you.”

He scoffed, resting his head back against the peeling wallpaper. “You’re sick of my shit?”

“Yes. Because you’re a fuckin’ asshole, Joel. How many times am I going to repeat myself? Normal people don’t stalk someone, attempt to break down their door, and then demand to know where they’ve been all day!”

“Oh boy, we’re still on that topic?” He placed his bloodstained hands on his knees and shook his head before he sat back. “So, what would you rather me have done, hmm? Sweetheart, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he gestured with his hands, “it wasn’t like I could fuckin’ call you up! Do you see a phone in sight anywhere? No? Wow, I wonder why! It’s almost like we’re in a fuckin’ apocalypse!” He said with sarcasm dripping with every breath.

And then you threw Joel Miller for a loop when you whipped out a fucking spray bottle and sprayed his snarky ass right in the face!

It didn’t even matter where the hell you found the damn spray bottle in the first place, it was the fact that you had the balls to spray him in the face, not once, but twice when he went to open his mouth. You swore you could see the steam rising from the water droplets on his skin. Like he was an animated bull from those old animated movies. Nostrils flaring red hot flames, smoke billowing from his ears. The tea kettle had reached its boiling point.

On the opposite end of the spray bottle, you saw that very bull with steam spewing. He was flabbergasted, bewildered at your rash decision. “Did you just fuckin’ spray me like I’m a goddamn cat or somethin?!’” His voice boomed like an overhead crack of thunder unleashing its rage in a crescendo.

“I did.”

“And why the hell did you think that you could jus—go’n spray me in the face like that?!”

“You say an awful lot of stupid and hurtful shit to me, Joel Miller. You hurt my feelings, pissed me off, and I’ve just about had it. So, everytime you open that big fuckin’ mouth of yours and say somethin’ mean and stupid, I’m gonna spray you in the face with this.” You waved the spray bottle around for a moment to get your point across.

Displeased, drenched like a damn cat, Joel sent daggers your way with one harsh glare. “Oh, I didn’t realize we were throwin’ a fuckin’ pity party ontop of all of this.” He scoffed.

“Did you not—” you laughed incredulously, “hear a goddamn word I just said? Fine. Well, let me remind you what happens when you’re fuckin’ stupid!” You sprayed him again.

This time he shut up..for now.

“Refreshing.” He mumbled very much like a dog with its tail between its legs.

You set the spray bottle down along the edge of the counter where it was in arm's reach, before you sank down between his spread knees with the first aid kit tucked under your armpit. “Let me see just what kinda damage you’ve done to your beautiful hands, Joel.” Your voice was much softer now compared to moments earlier. At least now you had him tamed and compliant.

“I didn’t break ‘em. Although, if you hadn’t shown up, I probably would have. And they ain’t beautiful, Angel. They’re ugly.” He gruffed out.

“They’re beautiful to me, Joel.” You reached for his hands once they were presented in front of you. The blood had already begun to congeal and dry in some places. “Yeah, you definitely have some splinters in there that are gonna have to come out.”

“Fuck no. Just leave ‘em.” He shook his head.

For the first time in over 24 hours, you smiled. It was really just a slight tug of your lips, but it was there. “Are you afraid of tweezers or somethin?’” You mused.

He scowled at your question and picked a spot on the wall to stare at so he didn’t have to make eye contact. “No.” He grumbled, jaw ticking under the dangling bathroom light.

“You sure about that?” You asked while placing the first aid kit alongside you on the floor. You popped it open, rifling through the different aids before pulling out disinfectant spray and tweezers.

“Crystal.” He confirmed.

“Ookay.” You did your best to hide your little grin while you held the disinfectant spray a few inches above his hands. “This might sting a little.” You softly warned him.

He barely flinched when he felt the sudden coolness from the spray adhering to his open wounds. His nose did twitch the slightest when the stinging sensation settled in.

“You’re being an excellent patient for me, Mr. Miller. Maybe if you’re a good boy for the next part, I’ll reward you with a lollipop.”

He finally looked at you, tearing his gaze from the wallpaper to meet your eyes. His lips curved upwards into a small smirk. “Sounds wonderful, Doctor. Do you promise to be gentle?” He played along.

“Always, Joel.” You replied.

His eyes stayed locked on your own for what felt like hours, neither of you quite ready to break the contact just yet. He cleared his throat, shifting along the closed toilet seat. “Uh, will..you hold my hand? I lied about the tweezer thing. Splinters hurt like a bitch, and uh—yeah.” He muttered under his breath while the heat began to rise rapidly to his cheeks. Even the tips of his ears turned beet red.

“If it’ll make you feel more comfortable, Joel.” You nodded reassuringly. Your left hand reached for his own when he had pulled back slightly in a jerking movement. You could sense his palpable hesitation radiating off of him before he finally relaxed.

“This is stupid.” He said suddenly, feeling more bashful as the seconds ticked by.

“It’s not stupid at all, Joel. Splinters are no fun at all.”

I mean, This. Me and you. It’s stupid. I shouldn’t be blushing like a schoolgirl right now. And over what? Holding hands? He thought to himself.

He’s kinda sweet..in his own Joel way. You thought silently to yourself.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Sweet. Sweet. Sweet.

“Get on with it, please.” He nearly whispered when his left hand finally reached towards your own. He was the one to thread his fingers through yours and let your entwined hands rest along his left thigh comfortably.

It took all of twenty minutes for you to successfully remove every splinter from his hands. Some fragmented pieces of wood were a bit deeper than others. He was a real champ, and you surprised him with a kiss. A soft reward that he felt he was undeserving of.

“I think you should let them breathe a bit longer and then we’ll bandage up.” You said while moving to stand back up. Your left hand was still engulfed in his own when he stopped you from standing up.

“Aren’t you gonna kiss them all better, doctor?” He asked with a tilt of his head. He looked like a puppy with his tousled, wild hair, and big brown eyes staring at you.

You found your lips kissing his broken skin before you even had a chance to respond. A kiss was pressed to each knuckle in an affectionate manner.

He broke the silence when your hand departed from his and you busied yourself with putting away the first aid kit.

“Are you going to tell me what happened to you out there, or are we gonna keep dancin’ around the subject?” He asked rather softly. Almost as if he was concerned.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Joel.”

Please don’t ask me again.

“Angel..”

“Let’s go finish our drinks.” You interjected with a hidden fake smile.

His eyes follow your silhouette when you swiftly remove yourself from the small bathroom. He shakes his head with a sigh before he finally stands up. He eyes the spray bottle still resting along the bathroom counter, and in an extremely cat-like fashion, he swiftly knocks it over into the trash bin below.

Good riddance.

When Joel left your bathroom, he soon found you with your feet tucked under your thighs on the far end of the couch. You appeared to be staring off into space while you nursed your glass of whiskey in silence. He really wasn’t quite sure what to think of your behavior, let alone how he should approach you.

Nonetheless he grabbed his own glass and joined you on the couch. Your eyes stayed focused on the wall even when you felt the old cushions dip down from Joel’s weight pressing down on them gradually.

He swirled the contents around in his glass absentmindedly before he took a small sip. You could feel his eyes along the side of your head when he moved the glass to rest between his knees.

“I really wish you would jus’..talk to me, sweetheart.” He rasped softly while he twiddled with his fingers that weren’t wrapped around the glass. He was never really good at having these types of conversations, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try one last time.

You shifted uncomfortably from his words. You didn’t want to tell him what happened to you in that disgusting alley. Or the way that Benji’s touch made you feel nauseous. You didn’t want to tell Joel that you were made to feel like literal human trash. Pond scum, gum beneath men’s shoes. You didn’t want to confess that you spent a night in lockup, crying against the cold concrete till your body could no longer produce tears while Benji, and a few of his FEDRA friends proceeded to violate you further, stripping you of your autonomy and dignity with grime stained fingernails, and cruel laughter. Nothin’ but a common street whore, that one. Make her gag on it. I wanna see tears streaming down those pretty fuckin’ cheeks, boys. Miller ain’t here to save you now, Angel. You belong to us.

You didn’t want Joel to believe that you were this broken, damaged person. You didn’t want him to take pity on you. That was quite literally the last thing you wanted from him. But, you were only human, after all, and pain had a sneaky way of revealing itself even when you had done everything possible to cloak it.

He watched as you drained the contents of your glass wordlessly before you slipped down from the couch, falling to your knees between his thighs.

She loves it, don’t be fooled boys. She loves to be fucked like a dirty little whore. Ain’t that right, Angel? Joel Miller got her all obedient, just for us. She’ll do anythin’ you ask of her.

“Angel.” He started, words lodging in his throat. Something about this felt wrong.

You ignored him, reaching for his belt with trembling fingers as you worked it open.

Cus’ a whore is all you’ll ever be, sweetheart. The best pussy in all of the fuckin’ QZ. Bet he’ll smell me all over ya, Angel. I hope he does. I hope that guard dog can fuckin’ taste my come inside of ya next time he takes you.

Joel finds himself frozen in time when he sees the way your fingers tremble. He’s stunned and unsure what he should do in this situation. He’s never seen you like this before. He’s used to your brashness. Your confidence. Your swift, snarky, sarcastic remarks. The woman on her knees between his thighs is not you. He knows then that he has to stop this. He has to say something.

“Angel, baby. I don’t think we—” he struggles to find the right words to say. To be delicate, but firm. This had nothing to do with his own feelings, and had everything to do with yours. “This doesn’t feel right, sweetheart.”

Your heart sinks to the pits. He knows. He fucking knows. He knows, and thinks you to be worthless, just like the rest of them.

You sink back along your thighs, tears pooling in your eyes. “You don’t..want me anymore, Joel?” You ask above a whisper, holding on by a mangled thread.

He shakes his head slowly, his heart breaking in the process.

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[waklman]

Glue Song (Pt. 2)

summary: you meet rooster and jake doesn’t know how to feel about it.

pairing: jake seresin x female reader

warnings: brief mention of death

a/n: more pining, friends to lovers, fluff x angst, rooster x hangman moment (?). part 3 comes next..!

word count: 2.2k

previous part | next part

Jake doesn’t know what gets on his nerves more. 

The fact that Javy insisted to go help you grab more cookies from the kitchen, leaving him to brood in his seat alone or the fact that he’s been painfully watching Rooster struggle to squeeze his Bronco between your mini cooper and Jake’s very own Ford truck. 

After a heated argument on which pilot should lend you a hand, Javy won on the basis that Jake should be the one to greet Rooster when he arrives. And so, Javy is able to escape the wrath of his seething friend with the most shiteating grin on his face as he got to follow you out back. 

Replaying the scene back in his mind leaves Jake annoyed beyond belief, and now that he’s witnessing Rooster back out of the parking spot for the fifth time this evening, he feels his anger flare up even more. 

Jake leans back in his seat, throwing his arms across his chest and watches his guest finally stroll through the front doors as if he’s not running late with another variation of his Hawaiin button up slung over his thick shoulders. 

Rooster doesn’t know what to say as he carefully steps inside, spotting Hangman sitting by himself. He keeps a neutral expression on but doesn’t know what to make of his view. Hangman is waiting for him by a table of love-themed baked goods. He can't help but to imagine how Natasha would kick him in the balls laughing once he tells her what he’s currently seeing. 

Rooster takes in Hangman’s appearance as he gets closer, bewildered that his hair is styled nicely, instead of being slicked back by five pounds of gel. And he can’t recall a time where he’s seen Hangman dressed so casually before. For the first time ever, he acknowledges that Jake looks pretty good. 

As he takes his last step over towards the table, Rooster hesitantly speaks.

“Look man. I don’t know if you misunderstood what Mav said but—”

“Sit.” Jake asks through clenched teeth, peeved that Rooster would even assume he’d have any kind of romantic interest in him.

Though slightly horrified at the situation, Rooster obliges anyway—taking a seat, awkwardly adjusting himself in the tiny chair.

The sight was laughable. The two grown men were basically swallowing the small seats they sat in with an array of goodies displayed between them. 

Jake looks across the table, his eyes silently trailing up and down Rooster’s body. 

Rooster can’t tell if he’s trying to size him up or he’s simply curious about how many Hawaiian printed shirts he owns. 

Both men clear their throats and flinch at their synced mannerism. 

Before they get a chance to fester in an awkward silence together, Jake feels his phone ring repeatedly in his front pocket.

Jake immediately recognizes the unique text-tone he specifically set for your contact. 

Rooster curiously watches Hangman, the man across from him practically shoves half his arm down his pants to grab his phone, a small smile replacing his previously annoyed expression. 

Angel 

Me and Javy are warming up the cookies now!!

Is that his truck out front???

I'm so excited Jack!! 

We’re coming out soon I promose :)) 

His grin peers back at him in the reflection of his screen as he rereads your typos, you were so happy for him that you didn’t even bother to look over your own spelling. 

“Who’s Jack? :(“ he quickly types out in response, shoving his phone back in his pocket. 

Jake bunglingly shifts in his seat, attempting to find a comfortable position after realizing that Rooster had been watching him check his phone.

“Coyote is joining us in a bit, and my other friend too.” He speaks so fast Rooster would’ve never caught what he said if he wasn’t paying close attention.

“Oh, alright” he responds.

They both synchronously stare down at the food in front of them before making brief eye contact with each other. 

Both men quickly retract their gaze, pretending to look around the shop–unsure if they want to make eye contact with one another again. 

Rooster stares off in the direction of the kitchen and spots Coyote walking out, his head looking back over his shoulder to smile at a girl following closely behind him. 

“Wait, watch where you’re going.” you draw back your smile, a worried look settling on your face as you kick at Javy’s ankle, alerting him to look ahead.

Pulled in by the sound of your voice, Jake quickly averts his eyes in your direction. 

You and Javy are both wearing the new bear paw oven mitts he helped you pick out last weekend as you carry out red velvet cookies together. 

He can’t ignore the way his throat tightens as you two make your way over. 

Jake doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. He blinks to regain his composure, realizing that he spaced out so severely within the last few minutes that he didn't realize that you and Javy had already politely greeted Rooster and you had taken a seat next to him. 

He drops his gaze down to your knee as it bounces nervously, unaware that your leg is slightly rubbing against the side of his jeans. 

His eyes trail up to your face, and follows your line of sight. You’re eagerly staring down at the cookies you just put out with Javy, as the two pilots sitting across from you are engaged in friendly conversation.

“Try her stuff.” Jake speaks up, interrupting the conversation. 

He quickly rams a cookie into his mouth with his right hand, as his left gently grabs your knee, halting you from giving yourself carpet burn from the way you were furiously rubbing against his denim pants. 

Jake feels you look up at him appreciatively from his peripheral as he shovels a chocolate croissant into his already stuffed cheeks next, urging his fellow aviators to join him. 

“Mmm so damn good,” he moans—closing his eyes, appreciating the way the chocolate swirls on his tongue.

“Yeah?’ Your shoulders shake, laughing at his reaction. Despite how many times he’s already tried your baking, Jake has never failed to display his enjoyment every time. 

Rooster and Javy quickly reach for the closest treat as Jake shoots them a spine chilling look while you distracted yourself, trying to find a napkin from the empty table behind you. 

Once you’re fully facing everyone again, you hand Jake his much needed napkin and place a napkin in front of everyone else too. 

Javy thanks you by shooting a thumbs up at you since his mouth is full, and you Bradley shyly grins at your kind gesture. 

Rooster then takes a big bite of one of your red velvet cookies and feels a wave of nostalgia hit him right in the chest. 

“Oh wow. This is amazing,” he compliments you, wide eyed.

It tastes so much like his mother’s cookies that it makes his heart twinge. 

“I don’t remember the last time I had something home-made. This is great,” he admits to the group with a smile.

Javy and Jake stills at his statement, knowing the reason why he hasn’t eaten anything home-made in awhile. The duo learned recently that his mother passed not long ago, and his father died in an accident involving Maverick while he was young.

“If you come around here I can whip up something for you. What do you like, Rooster?” you offer, lips pulled into a small smile.

Jake knows that you mean it too. It wasn’t just to make conversation or to distract from the topic—he can almost envision you keeping yourself past store hours to practice new recipes for Rooster. 

“These cookies are great as is.” he returns your smile, appreciative that you didn’t attempt to pry or send him a look of pity he’s grown accustomed to receiving. 

“How about you come around in the morning with Jake? Maybe it’ll count as bonding time to your boss.” you joke.

Jake feels himself choke on his croissant, Javy pushes a cup of water in his friend’s direction immediately.

Jake fervently nods his head no at your statement after clearing his throat with water. 

“Jacob Daniel Seresin.” you scolded, appalled by his manners. 

Bradley smiles watching the once cocky pilot he knew shrink in his seat like a kicked puppy as you stare him down. 

“Sounds good.” Rooster agrees to watch Jake sulk further. 

“Hey are you guys coming down to the Hard Deck next week? Phoenix convinced Penny to reserve the space for just the navy Friday night” Rooster suddenly brings up, picking up another cookie for himself.

“Oh. Yeah I’ll be there, what about you two?” Javy looks at you and Jake. 

Jake can practically see the wheels in Javy’s head turning and he wants to splash the rest of his water on him to halt his scheming.

You bite down on your tongue, a nervous habit you could never rid yourself from. Jake has never really brung you around his friends, besides Javy and now Rooster. He knows you run on the introverted side, you’re comfortable meeting others in small intimate settings like this. But a bar–the Hard Deck? Full of boisterous members of the navy running on a couple beers? Jake even grows nervous for you.

“What do you say Hangman? We can have her as our plus one.” Javy offers, slightly provoking Jake.

He looks over at you, trying to decipher your expression but it's unreadable.

“If that's okay with you guys?” you combat his nervous stare with a smile, reaching down to play with his fingers that were currently splayed on your knee. 

Jake relaxes a bit, feeling your fingers twist at his graduation ring–but the anxiety still sits at the back of his throat like bile.

You don’t want to disappoint Jake and rudely decline the invite. That was probably the last thing you wanted. 

Who knows? Maybe you’ll have fun since Jake and Javy will be there. It’ll be nice to see Jake spend his weekend outside the walls of your apartment for once. You’ve been feeling guilty for keeping him inside so much, although he insisted there wasn't a place he’d rather be.

But you knew deep down, Jake was much more of a social butterfly than you were. He would thrive at a bar filled with people. Your chest warms, knowing that in a room full of others, Jake will always manage to shine and cast his presence onto everyone there like a mirrorball. 

“I’ll take that as a yes” Javy grins as you both stare back at him. 

Within the following days, Jake learns that he has to share his mornings before work with both you and Rooster. 

He tries his best to be civil, making small talk with the two of you but he can’t help but to feel like he was kicked to the curb. His involvement in conversations grows less and less by the day, yet this doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You’ve attempted to pull Jake aside a few times but he insists that he and Rooster are already running late to base–leaving you defeated as you watch him walk past customers and make a beeline for the exit. You know there’s something clearly bothering him and you grow increasingly worried, watching him retract from you like this. 

Unbeknownst to you, Jake has the same worried feeling weighing down on him. 

Everyday, as you speak to Rooster–Jake takes the time to study your face, admiring your features, trying to commit them to memory–worried that one day he won’t get to see your face as often anymore. He feels his heart sink the second he looks over to Rooster and sees that the brunette has the same admiration for you in his eyes. 

The feeling grows worse by the second–and Jake is unsure of what to do with himself.

You even tried to talk about it with him–but for some reason-Jake uses every excuse in the book to avoid the problem. Jake Seresin, a man who thrives off the thrill of confrontation can’t fathom the idea of having a possibly confrontational conversation with you. All because he doesn’t want to hear about what you think about Rooster. He doesn’t want to hear an ounce of praise for the man to leave your lips. He doesn’t want to learn that you grew close with Rooster like how you’ve grown close with him. It’s better if he doesn’t know anything, that would hurt less. 

This morning he finds himself standing next to Rooster, dozing off as the mustached man animatedly speaks to you, his muscled body leaned over the counter you worked behind. The scene in front of him makes him feel so nauseous that he hasn’t even made an attempt to taste his latte, afraid that he won’t be able to stomach it. 

“Jake?” you softly called out to him, pulling him out of his haze. 

He looks up from his coffee and meets your stare from across the counter, he sees you bite down on your tongue–a nervous habit of yours. He feels even more sick. 

“Am I still coming over to your place on Friday to get ready with you?” you look up at him hesitantly, afraid he’ll deny your request.

He feels guilt coat the roof of his mouth. You looked so scared to speak to him.

“Yeah I’ll see you Friday, Angel,” he assures you.

Your heart twists sadly at the term of endearment. 

“And we’ll talk then?” you ask.

“We’ll talk then,” he reiterates.

thank you for reading, and as always-reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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[ms-nesbit]

Vienna (a jason todd x reader fic)

rating: 18+

warnings: SMUT, fluff, praise kink, slight hair pulling, a super sweet Jason Todd

summary: Y/n meets a stressed Jason Todd on a subway. Chaos ensues.

Read on ao3

notes: yall asked, and i delivered. you're welcome, nasties.

 

“Why him?”

The words left the stranger’s mouth as if they were a spirit leaving his body. Feet firm on the ground, and brows furrowed, his grip on the phone remained; the torrential rain bounced from his body, and he seemed almost unbothered by it all; instead, he was too lasered on the other end of the call, hanging on by every second of silence. “I’ll say it again: why him?”

The last word was sharp as it was thrown from his tongue, his voice dipping another octave. Y/n listened as closely as the subway allowed, its screeching brakes and busy-bodied occupants a poor distraction from the conversation a few feet from her. As y/n eavesdropped, she clutched onto the metal bar for balance, shifting her attention to her right to near herself toward the stranger’s phone. I shouldn’t do this. Ma told me not to be in people’s business like this. y/n thought to herself as she waited with the stranger for a response.

“I dunno, Red, he just told me he chose the flying Grayson, and didn’t give me any other info.” the other end stammered in a thick Brooklyn accent. Red? Flying Grayson?

“Shit.” the stranger spat before abruptly ending the call, shoving the crimson phone into a vacant pocket of his suit pants. He then looked behind him, locking eyes with a y/n, whose eyes balled into orbs at the sudden confrontation. “You lost?”

Y/n’s head shook profusely. “No, no, sorry. Just thought you looked familiar. And bold for, uh, wearing an entire suit on the Brown…in rush hour.” her head cocked, questioning her judgment.

“Yeah, that’s…” he looked down at his black tie attire. “Reasonable. Valid. And what, you’re here from the Gazette? Vogue?” he scanned y/n’s figure, causing heat to rise to y/n’s cheeks.

“Actually, I’m one of those influencers that hangs out in a crowded public place, pestering people about what they do for a living while ignoring what kind of disturbance I’m causing, so…” she drew her phone from her pocket, pointing it at the stranger. “what do you do for a living, and how much do you make in a year?”

her tone was sarcastic, albeit playful, and the stranger returned it back to her. “I’m an adopted son of a millionaire, and I make him disappointed, thanks.” he flashed a chipper smile, almost proud that he was a self-proclaimed failure. It confused y/n.

“Really? Is that why you’re on the Brown? Daddy wanna teach you a lesson?”

The taller figure rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Why is it that every time people know my dad’s rich, they have to address him as daddy? So chauvinistic.” he cocked a brow. “You really wanna know?” he awaited for y/n’s nod, before proceeding. “Okay, well: first of all, he doesn’t give me his money, and if he did, I would decline, because I’m not a goddamn charity case; two, my bike is in the shop, and I decided to take the humble route.” he lifted his arms as to showcase how ‘regular’ he was. “Anything else…?”

“Y/n.” she replied after a chuckle, amused by his teasing tone. “And to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?” her voice was elevated, mocking an air of sophistication.

He flickered his mint eyes at her. “If I tell you, will you be my chaperone to another exhilarating gala betiding us tonight?”

Bursting in laughter, y/n shook her head. “Well, how absolutely splendid! Of course I will accompany you in tonight’s delightful function in my luxurious off-brand loafers and mismatched, day-old pajamas!” Y/n’s hand waved against her body, pointing out her overly casual attire. But her cheshire smile faded after seeing the taller man’s expression unchanged. “Surely you’re joking.”

“I’m not,” the man offered an elbow for y/n to take as the subway stopped and weathered doors opened, “and don’t call me Shirley.”

—

Y/n’s fingers were detached from the rest of her nervous system, as if her unconscious desire overtook her limbs. How she went from taking the sub home all the way to being an underdressed date to the tall arm candy beside her is still a mystery, but one only occurring to a city-dweller.

Her fingertips knowingly brushed the man’s upper arm, examining his impressive muscle tone. The man caught on shortly before he hailed a cab, turning to y/n and muttering, “There’s not much there, if that’s what you’re wondering.” It caused y/n’s fingers to lock a safe clench on his arm, bracing for the incoming inappropriate joke.

But it never arrived. Instead, the tall man opened the rear passenger door for y/n, helping her seat herself in the worn cushion of the cab’s backseat before he slid in himself. “Wayne Manor, please.” he spoke matter-of-factly, eyes shifting to y/n waiting for a snarky response.

It seemed that this evening, they were both a pleasant surprise from the norm. “So your dad is a sponsor for the gala?”

The man sat back, flush against the seat. “If by sponsor you mean host, then yes, yes he is.” he relaxed his neck, resting it against the sturdy headrest, and exposing the skin to y/n.

Eyes refusing to stray from the tempting sight (and the tasteless thoughts that rushed to her), y/n responded, “That means…Wayne. You’re one of Bruce’s kids?” her head cocked to the side mindlessly. The man, whose eyes were on her, grinned at the habit.

“Not sure if he quite finished the paperwork, but yes, that does make me, at least unofficially, ‘Lil Wayne.” The smile that he wore was downright dangerous, and y/n crossed her legs to stifle whatever ache she had. “But yeah, I’m kid number two of three, if I’m right.”

Y/n recounted the headlines she scanned through the years, attempting to pin a name to the handsome man beside her; though, it was rather difficult, with his intense eyes peering at her, and his large hands resting (palms up) on his lap. She couldn’t deduct (not logically, undoubtedly), and admitted defeat by closing her mouth and looking out the smudged, unkept window.

Puzzled (and a bit taken aback) by y/n’s acknowledgement of defeat, the man kept the silence, no matter how unbearable it was to them both.

Until, of course, they arrived at the notorious winding road leading to the manor, when the man turned to y/n and nearly blurted, “It’s Jason, by the way.”

Y/n sighed in relief. “Jason, okay. Didn’t know if you were the acrobat or the weird, stoic, children-of-the-corn one.”

Jason chuckled. “Nope, neither. I’m the one in the hockey mask, remember?” He proceeded to mime a stabbing motion, cutting the remaining tension between the two in their transport. “Oh, sorry, you can let us out here. I doubt they’d let cabbies in.” He pulled out his wallet, sliding a wrinkled $100 to the driver through the plexiglass divider. “Just keep the change.”

He better not be trying to do this to impress me, y/n thought to herself as they left the cab, Jason again offering his elbow for y/n to take. “Are you sure they’re not gonna be, y’know, offended by this?” And by this, as y/n gestured, she meant her opaque mahogany leggings and oversized tee checkered with holes varying in size (but all from excessive wear and abuse over the years).

Jason scoffed and stopped in his tracks, using his thumb to lift y/n’s chin so they could lock eyes. “You look wonderful.” the sincerity in his tone cascaded to y/n’s chest; genuine men were scarce in Gotham, and so far, Jason hadn’t broken the grain of trust y/n placed in him. It was refreshing to say the least. “Besides, they’re too scared of me, so whatever they think in their pompous heads will remain there.” he assured, placing a hand over y/n’s on his arm. The pair locked eyes, this time in a wordless gaze long enough for y/n to identify the hues of stormy gray and downpour blue - they were a telling portrait far more consequential than her initial lame findings, the obvious envious green overtaking the landscape; he’s vindictive, and tired.

Jason knew of her findings, of course. His hair hadn’t been the only change since the Lazarus Pit; his stature shifted, elongating, and his eyes transformed from earthly green to a tropical storm. He allowed y/n to piece it together, if she wanted. And if she wanted, she knew where to find the root of Jason’s demise.

“Now, do you think you’re ready to join me, Dear?” he leaned down to whisper to the distracted y/n, who simply nodded in response. “If you feel uncomfortable, we can leave. You’d be doing me a favor.”

As they entered the manor among the crowd of well-dressed socialites, y/n’s body became overwhelmed with mixed signals: she wanted out, but was intrigued by the foreignness of the formality. Y/n attended school events and funerals throughout her life, but none were black-tie formal, nor was she underdressed in a mansion full of strangers with a handsome man attached to her hip.

Perhaps this was a blessing.

Y/n remained silent as she studied the cliques buzz and charm in a fatuous effort to obtain status. It hadn’t been long, though, as Jason guided her to one of the open spaces of the main congregating gallery. She looked up at him as he rummaged through the sea of deluded hedonists, observing his distaste and overall apathy toward the absolute palpable wealth in one space; his hair, thick and disheveled, was dark, except for the white bit symmetrically parted on his forehead. If it hadn’t been for his skin high in elasticity, and the unfathomable passion he used as a primary motivator (an unspoken symbol of youth), y/n would have believed that Jason was far more senior to her age than now surmised.

“Alfred,” Jason spoke with excitement, snapping y/n’s attention away from Jason’s physique and onto the gathering of bustling caterers, “how are you?”

An elder gentleman emerged from the crowd, wearing a long coat, black dress pants and tie, and a broad smile that accentuated his aged features. “Jason, my boy. How have you been?”

“Splendid.” Jason replied simply. “Is, uh, Bruce still…” he trailed off, nudging Alfred suggestively.

Alfred glared softly at Jason. “Upset? A bit, but you know how he is.” Jason nodded. “And who might this be?” his weary eyes lay on y/n, who grinned shyly.

“What do you-oh, yeah! Yeah, right, this is y/n. Y/n, this is my dad’s lifeline, Alfred.” Jason stumbled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm; the angle of his reach exposed barely enough of his waist, momentarily catching y/n’s attention before she hastily brought it back to Alfred.

“The official position is titled butler and personal assistant.” his eyebrow sharply rose in fierce discernment at Jason. “Pleasure is mine, y/n.” he bowed his head elegantly in respect.

“And it’s wonderful to meet you too, Alfred.” y/n replied, dropping her body into a modest curtsy. She felt Jason’s stare, to which she returned when she returned her original position from the curtsy.

Alfred tittered briefly. “Oh, don’t worry about that. Though that is very kind of you, indeed, Dear.” his assurance sat with y/n like a warm cup of tea, or a cool breeze. Is this why Jason seems a little mature? “Your attire certainly stands out from the crowd, and seems homely. Why not give y/n a tour of the manor, Jason? I’m sure she would enjoy the library like you had.” his words hinted as chaff, a teasing glimpse in his heavy eyes.

Pink peeked at Jason’s cheeks, flustered by the memories. “Used to be, yeah.” He grinned at y/n, face still timid. “You wanna check it out?”

Y/n nodded. “Absolutely.” her clutch on Jason’s suit fabric tightened, slightly pinching the skin of his elbow, as she failed to contain her elation. “I mean, is it okay? If you need help, I’m sure most of the people here think I’m below them anyway.”

Jason chortled before swiping a glass of sparkling wine from a server’s tray and gulping the drink, discreetly replacing it on the tray before the server would take notice. “And now I’m good. Let’s relive some interesting memories!” he balled his hands into fists mockingly.

As y/n and Jason turned to lead to the grand staircase near the foyer, Alfred leaned in and murmured, “She’s nice.”

“I know.” Jason returned, hiding his gleeful expression from y/n.

Y/n heard the comment, but pretended to have been preoccupied with her top, until Jason’s “Ready?”

And the pair successfully evaded the status-hungry socialites.

—

“And that’s where Bruce told me about the birds and the bees.” Jason snickered, pointing toward Bruce’s bedroom.

Y/n stifled her cackle. “No fucking way, are you serious?”

“Deadly. Plus I was 13 at that point, so…” his eyes darted to the other side of the room. “I pretty much knew it all. Didn’t know that girls could have orgasms, though.”

Y/n stopped and doubled over in laughter, startling Jason into catching her before she fell to the ground. “When did you find out?!”

Jason’s expression fell into an unreadable one, one arm reaching around her chest, with the brim of her shoulder blade just in his hand, and his other wrapped neatly around her waist, holding her hip to brace her.

They continued down the hall and stopped before a set of narrow double doors. “Here’s the library. You think you can contain yourself?”

Jason’s hand on y/n’s side caused it to burn under his touch, and her laughter died down to pecks of distant, breathless giggles. She turned up to face him, and was met with a semi-concerned face, his eyes barely curtained behind his salt strands of hair. “Yeah, I think I’ll manage.” she quipped, despite her volitant state.

As Jason pushed open the doors (which emitted a weak creak, expressing their distant dismay), he eyed y/n’s every reaction, grinning sweetly as her mouth parted and eyes widened, lip corners turning into an impish smile. “All this?”

“For six years, this was where I spent most of my free time.” Jason added, half in-awe of the books still neatly propped on the varnished wooden shelves. He wanted to add more, about how he escaped here when he refused to partake as Boy Wonder, or when he was coerced by Bruce into dropping his audition for a play; his grip on the fragile door handle tightened subconsciously, and his jaw flexed, gritting his teeth.

If it hadn’t been for y/n’s marvel visible in her glistening eyes, he would have snapped as he did when he awoke from his coma: a worn Alfred sitting beside him in the hospital room and admonishing Jason that Bruce spared Joker’s life. Rather, Jason lasered his attention on y/n’s wonder as she skimmed through each spine and title, lifting a lucky book from its shelf and holding the meat of the hardcover. She held it gingerly, tenderly, and Jason’s jaw unclenched with a hope that he could be touched that way too.

In a desperate effort to rescue himself, he listened to the voice in his kidney cautioning him away from his motorcycle that evening, and steering him to the Brown line where he encountered y/n. He hadn’t known what she would be to him - at the least, y/n accompanied him for the night; though he realized in the library, with the calling from his side, that he wasn’t the only lost one.

And as Jason leaned against a bookcase, shoulder pressed against the shelving with arms and feet crossed, he answered every question y/n presented, with the intention of relishing the joy sparked from visiting the hidden gem, as was the same joy ignited in Jason in years’ past.

“How did you find a way to leave this?” Y/n dropped, book in hand, as she skipped her way back to the tall man.

Jason shrugged, standing back on his feet and pocketing his hands. “I guess enough bad times followed me here, and one day, it wasn’t really the same.”

Despondency registered in y/n’s eyes, dimming the curious light in them. “Oh, I’m sorry.” she leveled the book in her hands enough for Jason to read the title.

“A Raisin In the Sun?” he read aloud, eyebrow cocked. “Never read that one.”

Y/n stuck out her bottom lip and shrugged, equally intrigued. “Didn’t know it came in hardcover till I saw this.” she opened up the cover, revealing a divet in the pages where a revolver hid. “The hell is Bruce doing with this?”

Jason’s eyes bulged in disbelief, a shit-eating grin splayed across his face. “Anti-gun, huh?” he carefully picked up the gun, holding it away from y/n in his hand. “What a goddamn hypocrite.” Before y/n began backing away from the tall man, Jason held up his free hand. “Alright, I’ll put it back. I get it: scary big guy with a gun. I got it.” his tone was dry yet assuming, and he replaced the revolver in its concealed spot.

Y/n smiled playfully, closing the cover and setting the book in its space on the bookshelf. “I wouldn’t say ‘knowingly’ scary as much as ‘might shoot himself in the foot’ scary.” She strolled back over to Jason, hand on her hip. “Didn’t wanna get any of your blood on my luxurious gown, y’know? It’s satin.” she twiddled her fingers at herself sarcastically. “But anyway, big guy, do you think you could show me where your favorites are?”

Biting his tongue at the lack of intimidation y/n felt by him, Jason nodded affirmatively. “How ‘bout this? If you find at least one of them, I’ll give you something.”

“And what is this ‘something’?” y/n signed airquotes.

“Depends. What would you like?” Jason stepped closer, shortening the space between them.

Y/n shrugged and contemplated for a moment. “What if we both look for a book? If I find one of your favorites first, I get to take you out on another date, and if you find my favorite first…”

“And if I find your favorite first, I can give you a kiss.” Jason beamed down at y/n, satisfied with his answer.

“How dreadful of you! Oh, the suffering.” y/n grandiloquently replied, exaggerating hand movements and a flabbergasted expression.

Jason rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll survive. Ready?”

Y/n closed the gap between them, propping herself up on her tippy toes to meet Jason’s eyes. “More than I’ll ever be.” she spoke fiercely, the intensity in her eyes tempting Jason to lean in and-

In a moment's time, y/n bounced away from Jason, scurrying to find a book she believed was Jason’s favorite. While she scrambled, Jason calmly searched through the bookshelves, occasionally looking back at y/n, who barely balanced herself on the ladder as she reached for a distant book on a high shelf.

During his period at Bruce’s, Jason hadn’t felt so inviting in his sanctuary. He often drifted in these books, growling at whomever attempted to crack open a title. Instead, he wanted y/n to find him within these covers, and almost wished that she could win.

So he found himself disheartened when he swiped a title from the shelf and handed it to an out-of-breath y/n, whose only response was a painful scorn. “You son of a bitch!” she spat. “How did you… what the fuck?”

Jason hadn’t even glanced at the title, only listened to the burning in his side ending his quest. “What, did I get it right?” he twisted his head to read the title. “Uhm…A Farewell To Arms?”

“Yeah.” y/n chewed on her top lip nervously, avoiding eye contact with Jason. “It helped me during some weird times. Cathartic more than anything.” she took the book from Jason, and exchanged it for one she held, before sitting down on a leather armchair with a flat thud. Holding her head in her hands, she shook her head and laughed. “Nobody really suspects that one. Dunno why, it just seems obvious to me.”

Jason found himself grinning at her, following her until he reached the adjacent leather seat, settling himself down in it with his knees on either side of the chair. He absentmindedly rested y/n’s choice of book on his thigh, not even glancing at it. “D’you think it’s obvious because you know yourself?”

Sitting back in the seat, y/n rested her hand on her palm. “I mean, yeah. But…I also liked it for the irony that it was. Hemingway was basically an emo-boy misogynist, y’know? And essentially projected whatever sad, twisted plotlines into his stories. It made me feel a bit better about myself, while also simultaneously making me feel awful.”

“I know that feeling.” Jason acknowledged. “It’s a paradox. So reading this book is like a form of self harm then?”

“Just as much as reading the DaVinci Code.” Jason snorted, caught offguard by the joke. His nose crinkled as he laughed, something that distracted y/n from her self-pity. “Have you looked at my primary contender for your favorite?”

He hadn’t. Reaching for the book, Jason’s fingers slipped into their habitual positions, holding the cover with great familiarity. Without glancing at the title, he knew. “Emma.” he said, maintaining a piercing stare with y/n.

It was a surprise she hadn’t broken the contact, but instead mirrored his stare. “Yep. Thought it was a joke, but…you seem like a feminist. A classic one, at that.”

“Classic one? What’s wrong with a modern one?” Jason took offense to the deduction, no matter the truth behind it.

“Nothing, I consider myself to be a modern feminist.” Y/n replied matter-of-factly, probing the source of Jason’s defensiveness. “Do you think there’s something wrong with classic feminism?”

Exhaling through his nose, Jason thought about his answer. Y/n studied the crease between his brows when he pondered, and the way he absentmindedly dragged his tongue along his bottom lip. If it wasn’t for the serious discussion, y/n would have already had his bottom lip between her teeth, running her hands up and down his chest through his suit.

“It’s racist. And mostly Christian-inspired.” Jason concluded. “To be frank, it-it’s really narrow-minded, and a dated model of how femininity should be defined.”

Dear god in heaven that’s hot. “I agree.” Y/n ignored the heat between her legs and the growing tension between them, attempting to remain composed. “Most of the pioneers of the first wave - white women - left out some of the unvoiced marginalized groups: women of color, trans women, and queer women.” Jason locked his fingers and placed it against his mouth, listening closely. “I heard that Jane Austen was rather avant garde for her time. A good read nonetheless.” When y/n finished her rambling, she noticed her behavior, and quickly apologized.

“It’s okay. You have some solid points I agree with. Can I be real with you for a sec?” he leaned in over the armrest of his chair toward y/n, who nodded silently in return. He looked down and away from y/n, the melancholy rain washing out the hopeful cattail brown in his eyes. “Before Bruce and Alfred, I… my dad wasn’t exactly father of the year. He did a lot wrong, and I was usually the one to help my ma before she died.” he swallowed the memories attempting to break the dam he built to conceal his painful past.

Extending her arm, y/n folded her hand over Jason’s. His skin was cold, coarse in texture, but so enticing - he was lonely. Y/n knew. “It’s okay. What happens in the library stays in the library.” she added, humor softening the sadness he felt.

What followed was a blur - whether it be the reverb of the quartet muffled through the thick flooring, or the fact that they were both as vulnerable as they ever would be. Jason’s lips were on y/n’s, their noses flattening upon contact as their attempts at safe contact were futile; he wanted to act on the envisaging from earlier, as did she.

Ultimately, y/n squeezed Jason’s hand in hers, overwhelmed by the softness of his lips against hers; the kiss was more devotion than concupiscence, which took them both by astonishment. Even when Jason’s tongue dragged heavily along y/n’s bottom lip, asking to deepen the kiss, it was out of impuissance, at the will of their passion’s mercy. Y/n’s other hand found itself in Jason’s hair, combing through it as they breathed in their act. When y/n accidentally tugged, though, Jason exhaled a soft moan into the kiss, and y/n, so frantic in wanting Jason to repeat that sound, tugged again, and trapped his lip between her teeth.

She pulled away to see Jason’s face, and was in awe of the destruction she had already caused: one hand, still in Jason’s hair, ruffled it amuck, and his pupils were blown wide in lust, a hunger undeniable by either of them; his chest rose and fell, catching his breath as he stared at her with intent. He wanted her, no matter the ease of invasion from any gala attendee.

Charm overtook y/n, hand moving from Jason’s hair to his tie. She pulled him by the tie as she stood, Jason close behind, his eyes leering as her hips swayed with each step she took. Then, stopping him before the loveseat, she pushed him down, straddling his lap once he adjusted himself. They gazed at each other, eyes exchanging unspoken notes of admiration before Jason couldn’t resist his urge to pull y/n into another kiss.

It didn’t satisfy y/n’s appetite, and it showed when she began grinding herself down against Jason, causing him to break the kiss and watch her hips move against his clothed erection. “Holy shit.” he breathed, loosening his tie and tossing it behind the loveseat. Y/n bit down on her lip hard enough to break skin, hushing herself from emitting even the tiniest of a noise. She focused herself on unbuttoning Jason’s clean shirt, invested in the skin underneath; when it lay exposed, she sprawled her fingers on it, exploring each inch she stared at earlier.

Jason, on the other hand, rested his hands on the small of y/n’s back, closing his eyes and soaking in the undivided attention. It wasn’t long since his last sexual encounter, but this was an action from yearning, an evening of exchanging flirtatious quips escalating to complete and utter vulnerability. His attention snapped back into reality once he heard a fumbling of his own belt buckle coming undone, and y/n repositioning herself on the ground between Jason’s legs, tugging his dress pants to his ankles.

“This okay?” She asked quietly, concerned at his perplexed reaction.

Jason shook his head feverishly, erection throbbing in his boxers. Y/n ran her hands from his legs up to his torso, softly digging her nails in his skin as she returned to his legs, hands hovering over the growing erection in his crimson boxer briefs. She leaned in and licked at the imprint of it, causing Jason to hiss between clenched teeth.

“May I?” she asked again, more impatient than before.

“God, please do.” Jason nearly begged, resulting in the heat in y/n’s core to grow. She rubbed her legs together as she drew back his boxers, Jason’s cock springing free from the constraint, and wrapped her fingers around his erection, eyes lasered on the man before her. “Oh, fuck.” he let out a long, low moan, feeling himself already near his release from the sight of y/n stroking his cock.

“Princess, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna come.” his confession sounded more like a plea, and as much as it was music to y/n’s ears, something she wanted to hear over and over, she pulled away, shimmying herself out of her top, then her leggings.

It was Jason’s turn to marvel at the beauty in front of him, and he gawked, thanking his sweet instinct for leading him to this moment. He sat up on the loveseat, interlocking his hands behind his head. Sharply inhaling through his nose, his eyes scanned y/n’s eyes, swollen lips, and down to her breasts, and high-waisted underwear, before returning his attention to her face.

“If I had known that a handsome man was going to be escorting me, I’d have donned a matching lingerie set from Fenty.” y/n excused.

Jason unfettered a groan from his throat. “Seriously not a problem with me.” his eyes remained on y/n’s with unwavering assurance, causing a blush to creep up on y/n.

Swiftly, y/n removed her underwear, leaving her bare before the tall man. Jason wrapped his fingers around his cock and began stroking his length in response, hips naturally meeting up in impatience. Y/n couldn’t help but stare at the sight that unfolded before her: Jason, brows furrowed and head slightly tilted back, slacking his jaw to allow the unholy noises to free themselves from his throat as he continued massaging his thick dick. Y/n noticed Jason’s eyes tunneled on her body, and began running a hand up and down her silhouette, taunting him as he barely contained himself.

“Fuck I want you, please.” Jason implored, desperation rich in his baritone.

Oppositely, y/n refused to oblige, instead egging him on by falling to her knees, opening her legs, and kneading her breasts vexingly. “Come for me, Babe.” she exhorted. “Unless you want to be inside me.”

The temptation in Jason soared, and something in him broke when y/n spoke tauntingly about being inside her. In seconds, y/n was lifted from the ground, safely placed on the loveseat, legs up. “Say it again and I’ll make it happen.” Jason grumbled with conviction, reaching over and removing a condom from the pocket from his pants lying on the ground.

Y/n braced herself on her elbows. “I want you deep inside me.” she smirked.

Jason lined himself up with y/n’s entrance, slowly sinking inside until he bottomed out. Y/n pursed her lips, focusing on adjusting to the size. She felt a fluttered kiss on her temple, then her forehead. When she turned, she noticed Jason’s head resting on her shoulder, his hair tickling her nose. She laughed, kissing his temple in return. “Are you okay?” he whispered, already out of breath.

“Think so.” y/n replied, rocking her hips to meet with his. Jason moved a hand to hold a fistful of y/n’s thigh, and placed another above her on the armrest of the loveseat, beginning at a painfully leisurely pace to allow y/n to accommodate. He bowed his head to trail kisses down to her chest, softly sucking on her sienna buds; y/n moaned and tugged Jason’s hair. “Please.” 

Nimbly, Jason picked up his pace, letting his head rest on y/n’s chest as he continued. He removed a hand from overhead to pop a thumb into his mouth, spitting on it, before slipping it between them, rubbing y/n’s aching clit. “Fuck, Jason.” she gasped, bucking her hips.

He continued this way, cock angled toward her cervix and thumb circling rhythmically on her clit, burying his face in y/n’s chest. “You feel so good, holy shit, y/n.” he strained. Jason clamped his teeth down on y/n’s shoulder, causing her to yelp and whimper in a mix of pain and pleasure. “You’re taking me so well, Princess, fuck.”

“Shit, I’m gonna come.” Y/n whined as her hips rose from the loveseat, only to be held down by Jason’s hand as he deliberately rubbed her clit. 

Jason picked up his pace, the sound of skin on skin slapping filling the empty library. He reclined his head, pressing his forehead against y/n’s as he locked eyes with her, swallowing their filth in a sloppy kiss. It was when Jason pulled away to let out a strangled, “Please come, y/n,” along with a thrust of his hips into her cervix, and the pressure of his thumb on her clit, that y/n was set over the edge, screwing her eyes shut as she sought ecstacy with a sob.

Jason followed shortly after, keeping his eyes peeled as he watched y/n come down from her high while chasing his own, thrusts sharp and deep. He sat up and tightened his grip on y/n’s thigh, bucking his hips once, twice, before crying out, “Fuck, y/n.” his mouth shaping into an ‘o’ and cock stilling inside her.

As he settled from his orgasm, he emitted faint whines, cursing under his breath as he struggled to remove his condom. “Shit, I forgot we’re in a library.” he muttered in realization, causing y/n to giggle. “Stay right here and I’ll clean you up.” he excused himself while he sprung out of the library, returning in a minute with a towel in hand. “Here, stay still. Are you okay?” Jason apprehensively questioned while blotting up y/n’s mess, peppering kisses along her thighs and stomach.

Y/n combed his hair while he did this, grinning and nodding shyly. “You do this for all your girls?”

Jason shot y/n an admonishing look. “I don’t do this much, Hun.” he finished cleaning up, adding quietly, “Not that I’d want to do this with anyone else, of course,” before he stood on his feet and dressed himself.

“Really? A good looking man like yourself doesn’t do this?” Y/n gave Jason a suspicious look.

Jason sighed. “No, I don’t. I don’t believe in doing that unless…”

“Unless…?” y/n poked.

“Unless I connect with the person.” Jason admitted, half-ashamed of himself. “And I think I can trust you.” Y/n sat up and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him on top of her in an embrace. She ran her fingers through his hair, breathing deeply in anticipation to comfort him.

And she did, even for a moment. Jason’s wall fell that evening, and it sparked a newfound love for the library in Wayne Manor.

[shadowdaddies]

i have this prompt involving elide pinning on reader for quite some time but not making a move until she panics at this gathering when she sees another girl flirting heavily with reader, and so elide ruins completely her efforts to make out with reader and steals her attention at last

could you make it a bit smutty if possible?

(and sorry that came out a bubbling mess)

an Elide request!! ahh thank you, honey💜 this is some angst/mutual pining, fluff and a lil smut for ya

Solstice Confessions

Elide x fem!Reader

Warnings: lil bit of smut, suggestive

From the moment you met Elide back at Morath, you were enraptured by her. She was strikingly beautiful, and kind to everyone - a refreshing change from the cutthroat culture among the witch clans.

When everyone returned to the Witch Kingdom to reclaim the land, Elide joined the Ironteeth clan. You had hoped that the stunning witchling would notice you, but anytime you tried speaking to her, she would be flustered and avoid conversation. It hurt to feel like you made her uncomfortable, so after awhile you gave up on your efforts in pursuing anything beyond a cordial friendship with her.

The Yulemas ball proved to be the best occasion for getting over your feelings for Elide. All of the witches gathered on the longest night of the year, performing rituals and having a grand celebration for the start of winter. You had a dress made, sheer with delicate pearl-white stitching that resembled new-fallen snow that made you look like an ice queen. 

With a newfound confidence, you entered the ballroom, scanning the crowd for people you knew. Your breath hitched when Elide’s black eyes caught yours across the room - the fitted red dress that accented her curves and made her dark features pop difficult to ignore. Her cheeks flushed, Elide turning quickly back to her conversation with Asterin. 

You pushed aside the ache in your chest at the interaction, swiping wine from a tray as you set off to distract yourself. As if on cue, the orchestra struck up a merry tune, and you found yourself content to lean back against a pillar as you listened to the music. “I love this song,” a sultry voice sounded from next to you.

Looking over your shoulder, your eyes roved over the tall, graceful Blueblood witch approaching you. She was objectively beautiful, donning a gold dress that offset her russet skin, her dark braided hair adorned with gold accents that made her look like a goddess. You were genuinely shocked that you hadn’t noticed her before. “I do, I really love any music. It’s a magic of its own, in my opinion,” you admitted.

The beautiful witch moved to lean against the pillar next to you, watching you with a keen interest that made your stomach flutter. It was a nice reprieve, to be able to casually flirt with a stunning stranger. Your heartbeat faltered when she brought a hand to your cheek, her golden brown eyes flicking to your lips. “Beautiful,” she murmured, leaning into you - only to fly backwards out of your reach.

Elide stood there, one hand on the witch where she had dragged her out of your arms. With a shove, Elide sent her scrambling back, Manon stepping in between them before things could escalate. You whipped your head to face Elide, rage burning in your eyes. “What the Hel was that?” 

The room was silent, and you looked around to see everyone watching the scene unfold between you and Elide. Manon gave you both a look that promised pain if you continued, so Elide grabbed your hand, dragging you out into the hall. Once you were alone, you ripped your hand from Elide’s. “What were you thinking, attacking a witch like that? Elide, you could have been killed. Why would you do that?”

Her big, black eyes filled with tears as she fumbled for words, rosy cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I... I just-“ she paused, taking a deep breath before the next words poured out of her. “I couldn’t see you with her. I am sorry and I know that you don’t feel the same way but it’s so hard to see you and-“ 

Gently prying her hands from her eyes, you wiped away her tears. “What do you mean you think I ‘don’t feel the same way,’ Elide? I’ve been trying to get over my feelings for you for so long because I thought you weren’t interested.”

She choked on a laugh, black hair falling around her shoulders as she gave you a wry smile. “I’ve been so intimidated by you, I freeze up whenever you are around. I think you’re the most beautiful person I have ever met, and so kind, and the way you light up a room-“ 

Releasing her hands, you threaded your fingers in her long hair, cutting off her sentence, bringing her lips to yours. You kissed her softly, a tender display of your feelings, but Elide was hungry for your touch. She pulled you into her with surprising strength, her tongue swiping your bottom lip for permission as you eagerly opened for her. A moan escape you as her hand slid around to squeeze your backside, Elide giggling into the kiss at your reaction.

You pulled back, wild-eyed as you searched her gaze to find Elide just as desperate for you as you were for her. Spotting a closet door down the hall, you smirked as you grabbed Elide’s hand, the both of you laughing as you slipped inside the closet, wasting no time as you pawed at the straps of her dress.

When you eventually returned to the party, faces turned towards the both of you. Manon rolled her eyes as Sorrel snickered, and you caught your reflection in the mirror to see both you and Elide’s lipsticks smudged, hair in a mess. Elide leaned in, whispering in your ear, “maybe we should call it a night, head back up to my room?” 

You grinned and nodded. “I’ll swipe some drinks and desserts and meet you there.”

[theamazingtrainernate]

@pinktransceiver​

The young trainer let out a sigh, eyes trained on his new recruit as he waited for his friend to arrive. He had been assigned an Eevee not too long ago by one of his superiors, given that he was a new recruit and so young. He was kinda surprised that it had Adaptability as it’s ability; it was the first time he saw a pokemon with a hidden ability and no less. Still... he kinda had hoped he would have been given a stronger pokemon instead of the little tyke, as it would have been a cool challenge to train a more experienced pokemon and work to gain their trust. Instead he got a lil guy who didn’t know many moves at all.

Not that Nate didn’t like his new friend; he was adorable as all hell and really sweet, and he was excited to raise him up and make him strong. It just felt like he was being underestimated. Again.

“Ya know... I hope she comes really soon buddy. The more I stay here the more I risk getting caught by an asshole with a camera or some fan wanting an autograph. The sooner I’m in the Ferris Wheel, the safer I am.”

Unfortunately, the lil tyke didn’t really get what he was going on about, and quickly began running around the area again. He was having too much fun in this place to not worry about whatever his trainer was worrying about right now! Speaking of fun, look! There’s a plastic bag rolling down the park! Time to follow it!

Unfortunately, the wind picked up too quick, and the bag began to fly away! Great... now he was pretty far away from his trainer... Looking around, he couldn’t help but notice this lady with pink hair! Pink! That’s like... his favorite color! 

Running up towards the girl, the Eevee cooed to get her attention.  “Vee! Eevee!” He was pretty sure his trainer wouldn’t be too far behind, so maybe all three of them could become friends too!

[dudeandduchess]

A jealous scenario with Kyo. Sen is just so cute & precious that you can’t help but baby him. The pillars joke to Kyo “Ooo... you got competition!” 😂 thank you keep it up

Oooh this was cute, bby. Hope you like it! 😌❤️‍🔥

Kyōjurō x F!S/O: Competition (Fluff, SFW Scenario)

Note: This will be set during the Pillar Training Arc, where Kyō will be alive and well enough to take part in it.

***

Days off were extremely rare for the lower ranking slayers attending the Hashira training camps, and it was even rarer for all the Hashira whom were conducting all the training. And when they did all have mercy on their subordinates, they all gathered together to train with each other.

After all, they were all humble enough to realize that their own techniques still needed to be honed. And what better way to get critique than to be surrounded by other people who were better in the things that they were bad at?

So, that was how the nine Hashira found themselves gathered together at the Rengoku estate; all taking a breather after getting done with their own sparring sessions.

Shinobu, Muichiro, Gyōmei, and Mitsuri were casually sitting on the engawa to recuperate in the shade, while the rest— Sanemi, Giyuu, Uzui, and Kyōjurō— all laid on the ground. They were all so breathless, and all so tired, but still held smiles on their faces.

Save for Giyuu, as usual. But there was a lighter aura that surrounded him, which had the others making an effort to include them within their fold.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, (Y/n) and Senjurō were busy trying to finish up plating all of the snacks that they had prepared for the afternoon.

“So how does it feel to be a married man, Rengoku?” Uzui asked with a teasing grin, which Kyōjurō easily returned with an enthusiastic one.

“It’s great! Better than I could have ever imagined! And my wife’s the best; just last night she made my favorite!” The blond practically bellowed, before tacking it off with a boisterous laugh that had the other men around him wincing a little at how loud he was.

However, the moment that the shoji slid open to reveal both (Y/n) and Senjurō, all the men’s eyes turned towards them both. Most looking at the snacks they had, and Kyōjurō looking right at his wife for the sole reason of admiring her beauty.

He even had to muffle a contented and smitten sigh; which must have failed, since he caught Uzui and Sanemi scoffing at his lovestruck reaction.

“I can see why you’re so smitten with her,” Sanemi began gruffly, which Uzui took as his cue to add on to the building fire that was guaranteed to mess with the Flame Hashira.

“But you might have some competition right there; not as her husband, but the cutest thing to her.”

Kyōjurō’s eyebrows furrowed at the Sound Hashira’s words, eyes briefly darting over to him and seeing him subtly nod his head back towards (Y/n).

So, he turned his attention to her and had to bite down on his tongue to keep himself from making a horrified expression. Since she and Senjurō were giving the other Hashira their snacks, and she had reached over to cup Senjurō’s cheek before pinching it slightly.

And, much to his jealousy, she even said, “You’re the cutest, Senjurō. Such a sweet boy.”

Those particular lines had Sanemi and Uzui internally laughing, especially when they saw the ill-concealed jealousy on the blond’s face.

“You might be her husband, but you’re not cute to her. A travesty, really.” Uzui stretched the teasing out, even making a show of shaking his head right at Kyōjurō.

“No. I’m the cutest to my wife.” The blond muttered under his breath; his expression going from bothered to pouting, which just looked plain out childish on him.

Especially since he was only feeding right into Sanemi’s and Uzui’s teasing. All the while, Giyuu was only focused on the tray of food and drinks that Senjurō was bringing over to them.

“Thank you, Senjurō, but where’s (Y/n) going?” Kyōjurō asked— clearly confused by his wife going back into the house. “Is there anything she needs help with?”

“Nee-san just had to get some more sugar for our tea, and she said that you’re all welcome to join us on the engawa, ani-ue.” The younger Rengoku chirped, looking almost too adorable.

And it made the jealousy inside Kyōjurō flare up even more; since he wanted to be the only one that his wife loved the most— no matter if it was so childish of him.

Still, he wanted to save face in front of all the other Hashira; so he stayed put where he was and thanked Senjurō for the snacks and tea. All the while, he kept glancing up to sneak peeks over at his wife and his younger brother joking around and being so cute together.

So, the jealousy within him turned up even more— up to a palpable amount that even Giyuu was interested in how Uzui’s and Sanemi’s goading from earlier would pan out.

“Looks like you have some competition, Rengoku,” Sanemi stated with a slight smile; merely expecting the other Hashira to brush his teasing remark off.

Nobody expected Kyōjurō to practically shove his half-eaten rice ball at Uzui, before getting up and marching towards his wife.

“Oh, Kyō, would you like to join us?” (Y/n) asked with that breathtaking smile of hers, making the Flame Hashira momentarily dumbstruck. Before he plopped himself down next to her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

Of course it made (Y/n)’s face burn red with embarrassment— as she was surrounded by all the high ranking members of the Slayer Corps; and there was her husband, acting so adorably possessive.

Especially when he bit down on her clothed shoulder, before mouthing, “Mine.”

“I... uh... yes, Kyō. I’m yours.”

“And I’m the cutest.” The blond huffed under his breath, which had (Y/n) holding back a flustered and confused giggle. Still, she raised her free hand up and used it to cup her husband’s cheek.

“Yes, Kyō. You’re the cutest.”

“You promise?”

“I promise. Now, what brought this on?”

“Nothing. I just want to be the cutest for you, because you’re the cutest for me.” That statement alone was enough to make (Y/n) want to melt. Thankfully, that wasn’t physically possible; especially when Kyōjurō nipped at her shoulder once more. “Mine.”

[volleychumps]

« Insecure S/O Reacting to a Confession 2

part 1 here 

format: scenarios

genre: fluff

- includes: Iwaizumi, Tendou, and Matsukawa

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

Iwaizumi Hajime

The sun wasn’t helping his flared cheeks in any way. 

“Stop interfering.” 

“Stop stalling then.” Oikawa grins, rubbing his best friend’s shoulders as if he were about to enter a boxing ring. The dark haired ace rubs his eyes in irritation with one hand, ignoring the flare against his cheeks as Iwaizumi attempts to shake his childhood friend off. The sight of you kneeled down in the school garden, hair pinned back away from your face as you tended to the flowers, made the heat surge through Iwa’s cheeks even more. 

“I’m not.” 

“Really? Because every day you approach her creepily from some distance, and then disappear. C’mooon, I already owe Hiro like fifteen bucks-” 

“You’re betting on this, shithead?”

“Nope.” The answer comes out a little too quickly as Oikawa dodges a second swat. “She’s so pretty I might have to approach her myself-” 

“Not another word.” Iwa grits out, Oikawa slightly smirking at the tick in his jaw and the way his onyx eyes harden. “I just...don’t wanna mess this up.” 

“There’s nothing to mess up until you confess. Ah, young love.” Oikawa sighs dreamily, Iwaizumi ignoring his dramatic friend’s swoon before making a decision. Today was the day. 

You wipe sweat from your forehead, attempting to ignore the beating sun down on your face as you tried to hurry the process a long, ensuring the flowers were getting just enough water. The touch of an icy can of tea against your cheek startles you, almost making you drop the watering pot before you hold a hand up against the bright sun rays, tilting your head in confusion at the broad-shouldered man in front of you. 

“Iwaizumi?” You smile in greeting as Iwaizumi shuffles his feet, breath catching in his throat at the sight. He was so screwed. 

You laugh a bit awkwardly, the cold touch of the can beginning to numb. “Um, is this for me?” 

“Yes.” He curses himself at how stern it comes out, but you gently take the can from his grasp, nodding in thanks. “I-I know you like this one.” 

“You do?” 

“No.” He didn’t want to sound creepy, yet somehow made it worse. 

“Oh.” 

Iwaizumi was ready to kick himself. He was hoping you would understand, the day you shyly maneuvered your way through Oikawa’s fanclub to get to him to offer him an ice cold drink was the reason he became so infatuated in the first place. 

“Well, thanks for the tea-” 

“I like you.” 

This time, you do drop the watering pot, eyes widening like a deer caught in the headlights as Iwa’s heart sinks at your reaction. 

“I get it, alright?” You mumble, sadness swimming in your stomach as Iwaizumi fought the need to dart off. “You’re the handsome volleyball ace all the girls want, and they put you up to ask me out as a joke again. It’s getting old.” 

Ah. 

Iwaizumi sighs, knowing that the other girls preyed on you for your beauty and soft heart, finding ways to hurt you in the most immature ways possible. 

“Oi.” His heart tightens at the look of sorrow on your face, making him click his tongue before reaching a hand out before he can stop himself, smudging his thumb along the streak of dirt on your cheek. You look up at him in a doe-like manner, and your wet eyes are enough to make the ace want to hurt anyone who ever made you feel this way. 

“I’m not kidding.” 

“Iwa-” 

“Hajime.” He cuts you off, hiding a smirk when he feels the heat rush to your cheeks. “You can call me Hajime. Only you.” 

“Hajime.” you try it out, clapping your hand over your mouth once in shyness as Iwaizumi smiles a genuine grin, elated when you shy away into his touch. 

“Then...please take care of me.” You manage, condensation running down to your other hand holding the can as Iwaizumi slips it out of your grasp, taking a heavy sip of it before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“I finished this one. Can I take you to a cafe?” 

“I’d love that.” You slip your gardening gloves off, Iwa slipping his hand into yours casually as you trail behind him, smiling when his grip tightens ever so slightly.

Surprisingly, the sun suddenly didn’t feel too hot today. 

Tendou Satori

“Today’s the day fellas!” 

“Oh, is it?” Shirabu mocks his surprise. “It’s not like you put ‘ask y/n’ out in huge block letters on our team calendar or anything.” 

“Bingo!” Tendou points finger guns at his teammate as Semi shrugs at a disgruntled Shirabu. “I’m about to get myself a Miss Tendou Satori-” 

“That’s not how that works-” 

“Hush, Ushijima. Your logic won’t ruin my day today.” Tendou bounces on the balls of his feet, waiting for practice to let out as he tugs his last shoe on, his other teammates still in the process of changing. 

“Is she waiting for you?” Semi tugs his shirt overhead as Tendou hums happily in answer, Shirabu snarkily making a remark from the other side of the locker room. 

“She’s out of your league.” 

“I know she is! Which is why I’m going to treat her like the queen she is, since I myself am but a lowly peasant beneath her-” Tendou perks up at the time. “Gotta go, I’ll text you the outcome boys.” 

“Please don’t.”

“Tendou-senpai-” But the redhead had already darted through the door as Ushijima glances at his worried kouhai, tilting his head in question. 

“What, Goshiki?” 

“Isn’t Y/N L/N the one who had that mean prank pulled on her last year?”

You bit the inside of your cheek as you rocked on the balls of your feet, fidgeting with the ends of your skirt as you wait for the rambunctious redhead on the volleyball team. No way a cute guy like him was actually- 

“Did I make ya wait long?” A pair of sneakers appear in your view, making you lift your head as Tendou Satori casts you a wide grin, school shoes hanging in his other hand. You tilt your head, wondering if he rushed here.

“Did you need something from me, senpai?” You blink, swinging your legs lightly on the bench you were sitting on, fearing the worst. Tendou clears his throat, suddenly feeling the nervousness he had been outrunning catch up to him. He can’t mess this up. Ever since you had adorably asked him to reach something for you at the snack shop for the school, he hasn’t been able to get you off his mind. He made sure to wait around during the same time during lunch hour, your usual snack already in hand and plucked off the highest shelf. 

“Go out with me.” 

You flinch. There it was. 

His smile fades slowly with every beat of silence that soaks in the atmosphere between the two of you, and you swallow back a sob. 

“How much are they giving you to do this?” 

Tendou’s shoes hit the floor, his eyes blinking rapidly in confusion as you refuse to meet his questioning gaze. 

“What?” 

“I um, can help you if you want. Go out with you for a few days so they really believe-” 

“Hey, hey!” Tendou’s arms begin to flail around as he shakes his head no. “I mean it Y/N, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever met. I really wanna date you for real-” 

“You do?” 

Tendou’s chest felt heavier at the crack in your voice and insecurity swirling in your eyes, and he nods his head, kneeling in front of you carefully before asking to take your hands with his eyes. 

“I 100% do. You can strip me of my honor if I’m lying.” 

This makes you crack a smile, making Tendou breathe out a sigh of relief through his nose. He thumps his forehead against yours, making your eyes glint in a way they haven’t in awhile.

“Can this lowly senpai please take you out on a date this weekend?” 

“No, my lowly senpai cannot.” You say, turning your palms over so he can hold them properly. Tendou quirks an eyebrow, but he’s slightly smirking as you offer a shy smile. 

“But my boyfriend can.” 

Matsukawa Issei

“You’re staring again, ya creep.” 

“I think the term you’re looking for is skillful admiring-” 

“Just ask her out.” Hanamaki yawns, getting comfy on his best friend’s desk as Matsukawa leans into his palm, eyeing the way you pout when your friends steal your snacks. So cute. “What’s the worst she’s gonna do, say no?” 

“Yes.” Matsukawa sighs, hanging his head slightly as Hanamaki arches a brow, crossing his arms in pure amusement. 

“Wow, Matsukawa Issei hung up over a girl?” 

“Who the hell is hung up-” 

Hanamaki arches a brow when his friend visibly tenses up, looking over only to smirk when he sees another boy in class shyly offer up his pocky to you, you gladly accepting and smiling widely in thanks. Issei rests his head on the desk, stubbornly looking out the window as Hanamaki withholds a laugh over the hold you have over your classmate. 

“Oh just ask her out.” Hanamaki uncaps his drink. “You’re so into her dude, it’s making me sick.” 

Issei shifts in his seat. Maybe his adoration for you wouldn’t have begun if it hadn’t been for the way your much shorter legs pumped to catch up to his figure, who had pretty much reached his home.

“Matsukawa-san!” You had gasped for breath, the messy-haired boy guiltily slipping his headphones off at how tired you seemed. Before he could profusely apologize, you shoved his notes in his hand, bright hue to his cheeks at the act of kindness. 

“Um, you left this in the library!” you manage out, Matsukawa seeming to freeze in the moment. “I added some notes in there, I hope you don’t mind. It seemed kinda empty-” 

“You wrote notes for me?” He finds his voice again, cursing himself at that being the first thing that came out. 

“I was bored during free time anyways.” You scratched the back of your head before turning on your heel again. “Anyways, bye!”

And then you darted off again as Matsukawa Issei stayed still in his spot, wondering just why the hell his heart was beating at the pace it was going, colorful notes hanging from his grasp. 

“I’m gonna do it.” Hanamaki almost falls off the desk at Matsukawa’s revelation and the way he suddenly stood up. “I could kiss you right now, Makki.” 

“I’m praying to god, please don’t.” 

You lean against the shoe lockers, humming to yourself as you wonder just what your classmate would need from you, figuring he wanted to properly thank you for the notes. You would accept it and go, knowing that Matsukawa Issei was favored among the girls- 

“You’re here.” 

“This.” You smile softly, holding up a folded note between your fingers as Matsukawa shoves his hand in his slack pockets, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “This made it hard for me not to be, you know?” 

You eye him carefully, stomach sinking at the familiar situation in front of you. 

“You might have already guessed,” Issei breathes, trying to steady the pounding in his ears. “Or Makki might have already told you because he’s a shithead like that-” 

You tilt your head.

“-but I’ve got this killer crush on you. And if you could help me out, I would thoroughly appreciate it.” It comes out business-like, and you almost laugh if it hadn’t been for the weight in your throat. 

“Help you out how?” He doesn’t notice the crack in your voice as he pulls his sleeves up to his forearms, swallowing tightly. 

“I think a date would begin to ease the pain.” 

You really do laugh this time, but it’s not the kind of laugh of amusement. It’s forced, awkward, and makes Issei falter in his smile and movements. 

“Do they ever get bored?” 

All playfulness drains from the middle blocker’s face as his tone hardens. “What are you talking about?” 

“Sure, get the hot guy from the volleyball team to try and ask Y/N out, are you getting it on video?” 

“Y/N-” 

“I’ve gotta go.” you try to step away, eyes widening when he stops you with his much bigger frame. His lidded eyes widen at the tears prodding the corner of your eyes, carefully lifting a hand to swipe at them before looking at you seriously.

“You think I’m hot?” 

You can’t withhold the giggle that escpaes you, sniffling slightly as Matsukawa smiles gently, wrapping his arm around you to touch the small of your back. You yelp a little when you find yourself crushed against his chest, your upper back touching the lockers. 

“I don’t know what the hell happened to you in the past, but-” you look up at the handsome tall boy you had hand-written notes for, hoping your crush on him wasn’t too noticeable. “I can tell you right now that you’re really fuckin’ pretty, and I want to brag to my friends about how hot my girlfriend is-”

“Do you ever stop talking?” You cup his cheek in question as his grin widens. 

“Make me your boyfriend and I’ll show you.” He winks, and you raise both eyebrows in amusement before practically speaking against his lips. 

“I think we can arrange that.” 

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

General Taglist: @ebiharachan @purplefangirl2001 @ssuna @saffyspirals @baes-x @nabisonyeo94 @celestialuffy @uh-what-day-is-it-again @genesisrose74 @takemetovalhalla @thathoneybee3 @animebae100 @jesssobs @tsukkikeiibabe

[infernal-fire]

five types of love.

what to expect: smut, swearing, friends w/ benefits arrangement, mention of Imposter syndrome, fluff, angst, heartbreak, overstimulation, implied creampie, rough sex

a/n: a little warning; you will be choosing your ending - there is a happy one and a sad one. a huge shoutout to @mollygetssherlockcoffee​ and @angrybirdcr​ for talking to me about the fic and offering such amazing advice! and @tuiccim​ was so damn lovely, even offered to beta this (though all mistakes are my own).

summary: you once heard that there were eight types of love. you only knew of five; the five that caused you to fall for one, blue-eyed menace.

Ludus: uncommitted, casual love that can attribute to a flirtatious and fun conquest. Not to be mistaken for Eros.

“I think we’re forgetting the reason why the mission failed in the first place. If the older fellow took a suggestion once in a-”

“-Tony, you know damn well that there were civilians in there.”

Steve and Tony glared at each other from across the briefing room. The tension in the room was exorbitant, but then again, it had been that way since Bucky joined the team. 

“This is exactly why we need the new girl. You super-soldiers and billionaires are getting tangled up in each others’ asses and forgetting about what it’s like for the normal people,” Rhodey sighed.

“The last thing we need is another trainee fucking up orders,” Tony snorted and began messing with his tech. The projector flipped through random screens, FRIDAY most likely filtering out the irrelevant news. 

“If you have a problem, maybe you should say it to his face,” Steve seethed, now standing up to match Tony’s stance. Usually, this type of jab at Bucky wouldn’t rile him up, but the super-soldier was at his wit’s end following the events of the latest mission.

Beside him, Bucky lightly tugged on his friend’s hand, signalling him to disengage.

“You’re with them?” Tony incredulously questioned Rhodey. 

“I’m with the idea of calming this room down.”

“Besides, she’s already been prepped for her first mission,” Natasha piped up. “We’re supposed to have a sit-down in 5 minutes... that is, if you boys can get your shit together.”

The room broke out into a chorus of muttering and everyone settled in their seats again. Captain strode to the front of the room and pulled up his game plan, fiddling with the map FRIDAY was projecting. 

You, on the other hand, could not decide how to act in front of the Avengers: Laidback? They wouldn’t take you seriously. Know-it-all? No, that was Stark’s play. Timid Tiffany? If you wanted to seem secretly conceited? Sure. That would work for now.

When Vision floated out to bring you in, you didn’t even flinch at the unforeseen phasing. Impressed at your lack of a reaction, Vision faltered before ever-so-courteously introducing himself. 

Could this sentient being laugh of his own volition? You gave him your name and dramatically curtsied to test your theory; he could laugh, and you were pleasantly surprised to find that it was not at all robotic. 

You felt the room intently eye you as you ambled to your seat beside one, blue-eyed menace. You half-expected the team to introduce themselves, but who were you kidding - anyone could hear the argument from three corridors away. There was no point in pretending like they wanted you here, but that wouldn’t deter you.

You glanced at your neighbour, met with the pleasant face of the one and only. James Buchanan Barnes was known to be a handsome devil, but the reputation of the Winter Soldier often precedes him; that, unfortunately, does not stop you from eyeing him. 

When he caught your stare, you scolded yourself. You’re such a creep. 

When he smirked at your ogling, you praised yourself. Oh, hello there. 

This is gonna be fun.

Eros: sexual, passionate love that is fueled by lust.

It didn’t happen after the first mission; he had the decency to wait until the fourth mission to knock on your door. 

You had been putting away the last of your belongings, finally adjusting to the grandiose living conditions the Avengers Tower provided.

As soon as you unlocked your knob, the door flung open; Bucky's stare was partially inhibited by his hooded eyes. He hadn’t always looked at you like that. 

Like what?

With unadulterated craving. 

That day, he strode in like he owned the place. You didn’t expect the shove that caused you to land on your bed with an oomph. Bucky wasted no time, climbing onto your form, straddling you. By the time you understood what was happening, a single finger was pressed into your lips.

“Either tell me you don’t want this right fucking now,” he leaned in, close to your face, “or shut the fuck up and let me use you.”

You whimpered in response.

“Not good enough.”

“Use me.”

That’s all the affirmation he needed. 

You pushed off the bed to try and meet his lips but he firmly pinned you down by your shoulders. Bucky reached into your panties and circled your clit without hesitation. It only took some swivelling, his intense gaze and the unexpected plunge of his fingers in your channel to make you see stars. Bucky had made you come before kissing you.

When he finally slotted his lips against yours, it was nothing short of all-consuming; you hadn’t even realized the absence of clothes on your body. Had it been ten minutes? Or thirty? It was hard to tell when you were being ravaged by another.

He made you come twice more: once with his fingers’ repeated dipping and pressing into the soft, spongy part of your cunt. The second time was with the talented sucking and flicking of his tongue. Technically, it was the third time.

None of your past partners had been this steadfast in their duty to pleasure you. You were already putty in his hands, ready to be moulded according to his needs. Part of you was ready to tap out, unable to fathom the likelihood of coming over his cock again, but the better half of you needed it.

In your orgasmic haze, you failed to notice that his clothes were being discarded - if you did, it would have given you the opportunity to gawk at the body that you so desperately wanted to see shirtless. When you finally registered his naked person, your hand involuntarily traced the connection between the metal arm and flesh. He threw his head back and groaned before kissing you again. 

He pulled off, just enough to get a good look. 

“Look at you, all fucked out. I didn’t even put my cock in.”

He pumped his shaft with fervour before pushing the blunt head against your slit. You winced at his attempt to put it in.

“Made you cum three times and you’re still too fucking tight,” he muttered and ran his length up and down your folds. Once he had accumulated enough slick he tried again, this time, successful.

You moaned as he slowly sunk in and buried his cock to its absolute limit. If the walls of your pussy had a voice, it would be absolutely hoarse. You also realized that he only bestowed the three orgasms in hopes of reprieving the pain of the stretch. Without the preparation, he might have torn you in half.

When he began moving, the only thing that was slow or soft about him was his lips against your skin. The thrusts were punishing; if it wasn’t obvious that he was angry before, this made it clear as day.

You screamed and moaned, alternating between keening and arching your back; the pleas did nothing to falter his furious pace. The smacking of your skin was only heightened by the slick that your cunt produced in attempts to accommodate his length. Every time he pulled out, his balls were connected to your sex with a string of come.

If someone told you that you could come five times within forty minutes, you would have face painted and dressed them up like a clown.

Now you laid in bed, being used like a rag doll, begging Bucky to stop you from coming a sixth time that session. It was usually the dirty talk that got you off, but he hadn’t said anything aside from the occasional ‘shut up’ or ‘shhh’. His movements alone had you convulsing around his length.

His thrusts didn’t get sloppy. Rather, they increased in force, as his cock sought space beyond your cervix. You tried to scream, but all that came out was more broken tears and cries. At last, he let out a pornographic moan as his load flooded your insides. Sure, you had let past boyfriends come in you, but you never actually felt the liquid shoot up inside you, until today.

Following the pop sound that his cock made as it pulled out, you whined again. You could feel your heartbeat throb down there. 

He flipped you onto your stomach and smacked your ass, laughing at the way you sobbed in pain before disappearing from your room altogether. 

He was gone as fast as he showed up. 

And he ruined everyone else for you.

In all fairness... you asked for it.

Philia: the deep, virtuous love that is formed in a good friendship. Lovers share a strong bond when Eros and Philia feed into each other.

What started as a release from the frustrations that accrue on the battlefield turned into a deep connection that neither of you had anticipated. Sex had only been used as a tool in the act of psychological detachment until that day. 

It was a failed date of some sort: either you had been stood up or the guy was a total moron. You could wrack your brain for the memory, but in any matter, it was all irrelevant now. 

You were upset, not just at your lack of a love life, but at the imposter syndrome that had weaselled its way into your liveliness. Feeling like you weren’t enough was catching up to your daily life and even Bucky had noticed the hesitation during your post-mission escapades. 

Before you knew it, your hand was knocking on Bucky’s door at the ripe hour of 1 AM. 

You heard the muffled thumps of his footsteps and considered booking it out of there, but before you made up your mind, the door opened.  As you had predicted, Bucky was wide-awake. 

“What?” 

You had wanted to sass him for his tone but decided against it since you were the one who interrupted his 1 AM activities. You shook your head from the clouds and mumbled incoherently, starting to walk away. The coldness of his metal arm abruptly gripped your wrist.

“Are you okay?”

You hated that question. You could be doing so good, holding in the burden of a horrible week, but the moment someone asks you that question, the dam would disintegrate into dust, only to be washed away by the inevitable waterworks. 

The sob you let out didn’t loosen his hold. He let you cry and watched as you tried to wipe away the unrelenting tears, still refusing to close the gap between your bodies. Finally, you shuffled into his arms where he bear-hugged you, cupping the back of your neck and holding it to the junction of his neck. 

"You smell nice,” you sniffled. 

He lightly chuckled before dragging you into his room and seating you on the bed. He ordered you to stay there and rummaged around his cupboard before pulling out a bottle with red liquid sloshing around. 

“You keep that in your room?” you snickered, wiping your nose with the back of your hand, before blanching at your state. Hell, he had seen you naked, how you look right now is the least of your concerns. 

“In case of emergencies,” he winked. “This seems like a real emergency.”

A fresh wave of tears pooled in your waterline as you peered at your hands that were picking at each other. 

“I don’t have wine glasses, so we can just chug.”

Bucky stuck out the bottle and you grasped it firmly before gulping one-fourth of it. That’s all the coaxing it took to get you to spill. 

You don’t even remember what you talked about, but before either of you realized, 3 AM blinked on the digital clock that hung above the bed frame. You were almost asleep, now resting on Bucky’s lap while he occasionally hummed or offered his two cents. Right before you drifted off, the super-soldier lifted you, placing you under a cover. He climbed in from the other side, one hand cupping your face, the other snaking around your waist.

“Thanks, Buck.”

“It’s gonna be okay. You’re okay,” he whispered.

Your eyes drooped but swiftly opened as Bucky leaned in, resting his forehead against yours. His lips barely touched yours, grazing their presence, but you moved, tenderly catching them. He returned the movement, the delicacy of his actions reflected in the softness of his eyes. 

You pulled away and the two of you wordlessly bore into each other’s eyes. At last, you succumbed to the fatigue, as did he; both of you resting in the others’ possession. 

Mania: an unhealthy, obsessive love that plagues the mind.

It was the third time Bucky didn’t show up at your door after a mission. Three missions, each of them ending in something that would have indubitably pissed him off - after all, they were HYDRA bases. That’s when you first suspected it.

The second was when you noted his intentional avoidance of your presence. Whether it be the kitchen, the gym or the hallways, the stealthy ex-assassin didn’t have trouble actively dodging you. Initially, you chalked it up to wanting space or simply taking a break.

Then you heard it.

Why was it that your gut told you to go right then? All this time you had been biding, yet it was at this precise moment that your hunch asked you to speak to him. It could’ve been the duration of the month that it took you to prepare yourself, but it had to be now. You raised your hand, prepping to knock on the door, but stopped.

Your hand froze mid-air. The elegant laugh of another girl sounded behind the door. It was faint, the noise slightly suppressed by the wall between you. 

It could be anyone. 

But it wasn’t. Your intuition, the one that told you to come here right now, was wise enough to know that this wasn’t just anyone. It was her. 

You cupped your mouth to stop the sob that threatened to liberate itself from the confines of your constricted airway. You fell forward, onto your knees, as if to pray to the gods to not let it happen. But it already did.  You let go of your mouth, gasping for air from holding your breath all this time. 

Shoulders sagged and spine bent, you stalked back to your room like a zombie. Face devoid of all emotion, you fell onto the corner of your bed and crumpled into a ball.  For twelve hours, you laid there. Sometimes sleeping, other times letting the tears leak out of the corners of your eyes. Memories of his fingers weaving through your own, the pleasures that chilled you to the bone. Most of all, the way you held his head to your chest as he whimpered about the nightmares that invaded his nights. It felt like those things happened to someone else. Nothing more than a distant memory.

Your heart clenched, tugging on the heartstring that you once thought was connected to him.

-

It was as if he knew you stood outside his door that day. There was an unspoken agreement to never speak of it. Yes, yes, don’t ever speak of it. The dam that you built so carefully will come crashing down.  He stopped avoiding you, but you wished he didn’t; it was crueller to be reminded, easier to pretend he didn’t exist. 

Be honest with yourself.

You didn’t pretend like he didn’t exist. 

In fact, the first thought after waking up? Bucky. Last thought before going to sleep? My Buck. Every time he wasn’t around? James Buchanan Barnes.

Please, don’t act like every waking moment isn’t spent loving him. Because deep down, you know what’s true.

He never did introduce the mystery girl to anyone at the Tower, but you knew his disappearance after missions could be credited to her. Did he take out his anger on her as he did to you? Or were you nothing more than a toy?

Guilt was one of the few emotions you could make out from the rare occasions you caught his stare. Longing was there too, but you couldn’t be sure that you weren’t projecting.  Months went by, waiting for thoughts of him to abandon your disturbed mind. The time never came.

As promised, he ruined anyone else for you. 

Pragma: the type of love that endures all shortcomings. Committed relationships that stay in love have an element of significant Pragma to them.

a happy ending.

That relationship may have ended but it didn’t mean he would come back to you.

He did come back. But he wasn’t yours.  Bucky made that clear when two more relationships ensued the last. Each time, the buffer period between them was filled by you. 

His back-up plan. That’s what you had been reduced to. 

After the third time he brought a new girl, you’d think you would be used to it, maybe even uncaring. Unfortunately, the opposite would always prevail.

Steve caught your fist and tutted, commenting on the bad form. You stopped, shook your shoulders and began hopping on the balls of your feet again.  Jab, jab. Swing.  At first, you’d imagine the faces of those girls. Nowadays, it was easier to envision the pads Steve held as his best friend’s face. 

“Bucky’s girl broke up with him.”

“Oh,” you made out, focus slightly wavering. 

“You know what happened?”

“Are you asking me ‘cause you wanna know or because you already know?”

“I already know,” he sighed, lowering the hand pads. 

He exhaled your name, shaking his and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “When are you two gonna stop playing around?”

“I really don’t understand, Steve.”

“You know why she broke up with him?” You blinked, tongue poking the inside of your cheek in anticipation of an answer. 

“He moaned your name during sex.” 

“God, that’s so corny,” you huffed, now beginning to make your way out of the boxing ring. 

“So what, you’re gonna do nothing? Keep letting him use you?” Steve jogged to catch up to you.

“No,” you faced him, “I’m not letting him use me as a fallback anymore. I’m putting an end to it.” 

Steve pursed his lips and shot you and exasperated look before shaking his head.  “Don’t let something good go to waste.”

It used to be something good.

You wondered if you could hold up the promise you had just declared to Steve; in the past, you failed every time he showed up at your door. Bucky knew exactly how to play into your emotions, how to say the right things every time. And just like that, the next morning you’d end up in his arms. That stops today.

Determined, you practically punched the button to go up on the elevator and impatiently tapped your foot. As the doors slid closed, you took one look at yourself and turned away, fighting the urge to fix your appearance for him. The doors opened again and you check the floor number, ready to step out, but stopped at the sound of your name.  His ex. You almost ran off, unwilling to put up with an angry ex, but she called on you again. You sheepishly stood there, as if you were the one who did something wrong, until she stepped in and pressed the button to go to the lobby.

The silence stretched on, much like your patience. Does she even know who you are?

“We were both fooling ourselves.”

You turn to check if she was speaking to you. Her stare was unwavering and she maintained eye contact that almost made you squirm.

“We both love different people.” She smiled, an obvious melancholy tainting her face. You stood there, absolutely clueless as to how you should respond.

“It’s too late for me, but it’s not for the two of you. Just... don’t let him go. He’s one of the good ones.”

You turned again, now looking down at the ground. Even if she expected you to say something back, it was impossible, at this point. Your mind was in shambles, everything she said contradicting the choice you made five minutes ago. 

After what seemed like an eternity, the doors opened and she stepped out. She turned one last time and nodded as if you knew what to do now. 

Bucky’s door was unlocked. You called out his name, barely above a whisper and sauntered with hesitation lining your every step.  Nothing. Empty. He wasn’t there. 

It was a sign. You almost ignored the advice his ex gave, ready to walk into his room and end things. Your shoulder slumped as if your bore the weight of the world on them as you slunk back to your room. Now it would take another outburst or another month to prepare yourself to talk to him again.

As the days went by, you barely saw him around. It reminded you of the times he intentionally ignored you, except this time, you weren’t sure it was intentional. When you did see him, it was clear that he wasn’t doing good; his beard was unkept and scraggly, the bags under his eyes heavier than any trauma he carried. You pretended as though you didn’t notice and went about your routine. 

1 AM

A knock sounded at your door. You knew who it was, how could you not, but hoped it wasn’t him anyway. The encounter would most likely end with tears or sex and you didn’t favour either outcome. 

You waited a minute. Maybe he would leave if he assumed you were asleep. The knock sounded again.

You cracked the door open.  Whatever you were expecting, surely, it wasn’t this. Eyes red and puffy, it was clear he had been crying and most definitely not sleeping. 

He held up a wine bottle, and chuckled pathetically at himself. 

“Maybe this is bad idea,” he sniffled and wiped his nose with the sleeve of his left arm. 

It didn’t feel right to say anything. Rather, you opened the door wider and beckoned for him to step in.

“Emergency?” you asked with a little smile. God, you were so close to crying and he hasn’t even said anything.

“Oh yeah. Big emergency.”

He sat on your bed and felt the sheets, trying to remember the feeling of it on his knees. The days he would buck into you while you clutched them like a vice. The soldier pursed his lips and watched as you settled beside him.

“You don’t have to talk... if you don’t want to,” you said. Your voice cracked and you almost smacked yourself for being so weak around him. 

“But I do. I should talk. I have so much to say... Can I explain?” He turned to face you, reaching out for your hands, holding them in his own. You didn’t say anything, opting to return his request with a pleading look in your eyes. He knew what the look meant: just don’t break my heart. Again. He took a deep breath in acknowledgement, trying to form the words that would help you understand. 

“I can’t believe I hurt you. I swear, I didn’t know I was doing it, at first.” You mustered your best unbelieving look, almost scoffing for good measure. “No, really,” he hastily added. 

A few tears streamed down your face and you frantically tried to wipe them. Bucky took one look at you before he began breaking down, tears slipping down his face.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to cry... I just- I don’t understand? I thought things were good?” you questioned. You had given up on trying to wipe your tears, as did he.

“I wasn’t supposed to fall for you. And by the time I realized, we were so far in. Then I found a distraction... and I really thought I was over you,” he paused, wondering if he should continue or not. You showed no sign of speaking up, so he went on.

“I didn’t think you cared. I didn’t think you felt the same way. I was so convinced that you wouldn’t blink twice but then... but, I-... I heard you at the door that day. I wanted to kick her out and hold you, but I-...”

“But you what? You what, Bucky?”

“I thought it was too late for us. I thought I ruined everything.”

“Then why are you here now?”

“Don’t be mad,” he murmured, retracting his hands and fiddling with his fingers.

“I don’t think anyone can ever replace what we had. Maybe... still have? Because you’re it for me. I’m sorry it took me this long to realize that. I was on the brink of losing myself.” He looked up at you, eyes brimming with a new wave of tears. He mumbled your name weakly, croaking out a please at the end.

You curled in on yourself and fell into his arms, hoping that was enough of a answer.

“I can’t promise you that everything will be back to normal by tomorrow morning... but with some time, I can learn to trust you again.”

Above you, Bucky hurriedly nodded. At the state he’s in right now, you suspected that you could ask him to sell his soul and he would agree.

“And if you ever break my heart again-,” 

“-I would die before that happens,” he finished for you, kissing the top of your head for good measure.

“I love you,” you whimpered, “so fucking much.” 

“I love you too. I really love you too,” he affirmed and encased you with his arms again.

Though there had been some rough patches on the road to happiness, with Bucky by your side, you felt as though you could make it through anything; for that, is the power of pragmatic love.

an unfortunate ending.

The tears that would’ve been shed during the ceremony have dried on your pillowcase about five hours ago. Now, you sat beside the team, waiting for her to walk down the aisle. 

Bucky looked nervous, as if he were reconsidering his life decisions. The little devil on your shoulder was holding onto every little thing he did: the wrinkle of his forehead, his repeated tugging on the suit and his flustered glancing around. Oh lord, and when he accidentally locked eyes with you? You may have bitten your lip and looked away in contempt but the shoulder-devil was as persistent as ever.

He secretly still wants you.

Shut up.

He wants to call it off.

Get a life.

At last, the lucky girl stood at the end of the winding path and you couldn’t help but sneak a look at the groom. His tension and nervousness crumbled at the sight of her; it was difficult not to feel happy that he had found the one that made him feel this way. 

It may have been him for you, but that notion was long forgotten, a nuisance of memory at most. Your love for him, regardless of the storms it has endured, is no longer respected or wanted by either party.

If he loves her, why does he come to you when things get bad?

You shook your head at that, having no answer for the nature of his secret infidelity. It was nothing more than taking out his frustrations on you - much like the old days.

Your reminiscing was cut short when a voice asked everyone to rise for the bride. You stood and straightened out your outfit, flicking off the little white petal that clung to your maroon dress. A hand grasped your own, and you turned to see Steve smile reassuringly. You squeeze his hand in appreciation and turned your attention to the white-clad figure walking down the aisle.

And that’s all you remember. You wish you could recall the rest of the wedding. You really do. Too preoccupied with what was going to happen after the event, you disassociated from the ordeal altogether. No matter how hard you grilled yourself, nothing would come to mind - dissociative amnesia only occurs as a protective coping mechanism during traumatic events; was that what Bucky’s wedding was to you?

What type of question is that?

For once, you agreed with the little red beast that sat on your shoulder. Long ago, the first time you saw someone else Bucky’s arms, the devil pierced the pitchfork right through the angel’s heart. These days, it was all you could think of. 

After the bride and groom exchanged ‘I do’s’, you willed yourself to stay a while longer. Your only companion, Steve, slow danced with you in silence, knowing that whatever he says would be of no consolation. Bucky did have half a mind to ask you for a dance, but he saw you leave. You didn’t think anyone did. He waited for you to turn and look at him one last time, but you never did. It’s okay, he thought. I didn’t deserve her anyway.

No one saw you after that.

On your bed, Steve found a single note that didn’t explain anything more than what he already knew. If anything, it simply affirmed that you were gone for good. Your things packed up, no trace of a person ever having lived there. Even if he pulled some strings, it would take years to find you again. 

After all, you had already been lost for quite some time.

hey folks. i know this seems a little desperate-sounding but i would really appreciate reblogs and would absolutely love to hear your thoughts on the story. what was you favourite part? which part made you feel some way? i really love knowing these things. love each and every single one of you.

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Shoot me a message or fill out the form in my bio to be added to my tag list!

[nanikoreeeh]

― meaningless effort [ ch. i ]

a miya atsumu X chubby!reader story

synopsis;  there's a force to be reckoned within him, it beats inside his chest and plunges him forward; there's a craving in her heart that he fills, miya atsumu washes over you with the strength of a roaring tide and the water is creeping under your toes...

author’s note; i didn’t mean to write this, @darlingtobio​ sent me a request of a stalker atsumu pinning on a chubby reader and i feel this is a concept i can explore and  develop further, i don’t know how many chapters this will have but i hope you can join me on the ride ;D

warnings; toxic behaviour, pinning, angst, fluff, smut, chubby reader, body image issues, insensitive atsumu at times, slow burn, stalking.

― if you liked the story it would mean the world to me if you could comment & reblog so i know that you enjoyed it, thanks a lot :D

He can still remember the first time you smiled at him, the soft curve that lit your pretty lips upwards, the squinting of your kind eyes that showed him that your smile was sincere. He doesn’t remember why you smiled at him, but the context isn’t important, what matters is that he felt something inside him change. An urge to see you smiling like that again, to get to know how he could make you smile again like that.

He hadn’t really paid you much attention before that, but he knew he had been sharing classes with you during his three years of highschool. At first he can’t help but get frustrated about not noticing you sooner, he’s been so driven by volleyball that he hasn’t had the chance to properly think about being serious with someone. He gets over that negative feeling soon enough, what matters is that now he has the chance to really go for it, he’s career is looking bright and he can’t help but imagine what it would be like to have you by his side as he makes it to the top of competitive volleyball.

Then he finds out that you’re also moving to Osaka to attend college, and it feels like destiny.

“Good morning, Y/N-chan.” Greets you the blonde twin while leaning against your desk like every morning for the past weeks. Miya Atsumu has turned out to be a box full of surprises, you still get a little startled as he rests his elbows on the flat surface of your notebook, and you return his greeting with a smile.

He is softer than you’d expected, he likes to make small talk about the kind of places he likes to go when he has free time and to tell you about his games, “You should come to cheer me up someday.” He casually mentions and your heart gets excited at his proposal, but then he adds; “The team can always use the support”.

Of course you’d just be another girl in the stands cheering for his name, he doesn’t particularly care if it’s you or anyone else you guess. Yes, he is softer than you thought, but you find that your assumptions about him weren’t all that off, he’s a little too cocky sometimes.

Is better this way, it keeps you from liking him too much. He is too handsome and cheeky to not make your insides flutter, but you’ve seen several of his exes and know for sure you’re not really his type. You try not to let it get you down too much, is not like you feel worthless, but still, stings knowing he wouldn’t go for you.

So you keep up with his conversations and sometimes when he surprises you from behind, one hand pinching your sides as he mutters a “Are you thinking of something lewd?” you let yourself get excited, but only for a couple of seconds. Then at nights when your mind wanders into fantasies of the two of you being together you end up rationalizing that he’s just like that and that you should be careful of not falling for someone who doesn’t even sees you as someone they could fall in for.

You don’t notice the way his gaze lingers on your back when you walk away from him, and you think it's just a coincidence when you run into him while you’re hanging with your friends at your favorite cafe. He gives you an almost bored smile from the counter and goes to sit at his own booth all by himself after briefly saying hi to you.

You are about to leave when he sneaks by your side, his fingers tightly squeezing the chub on your upper arm to keep you from moving. It’s ridiculous how nervous his simple touch can make you. You look up at him confused, mildly worried about the placement of his hand. But he pays it no mind at your expression.

“Were you leaving without saying goodbye?” His tone is playful, the almost whisper in his voice makes your insides flip and you exhale to calm your nerves before asking as casually as possible.

“You seemed to want some alone time” you admit, shyer than you'd have liked.

He tilts his head sideways and only mutters an elongated “Mmh” at your answer, he looks at your group of friends waiting outside for you. “Where are you going now?”

“I think we’re going karaoking”. You notice he hasn’t let go of your arm, brown eyes intensely staring at your own. You don’t know what drives you to be bold and ask, but you do it anyways. “Why don’t you come with us?”

Atsumu can feel his heart jumping inside his chest, he knows it’s too cheesy, and still he can’t help it, nor his grip digging into your flabby arm with more strength for a couple of seconds. Are you actually asking him out?

Then the laughter of your friends tears his gaze apart from your eyes and he feels bitter. You must be asking just to be polite, and he doesn’t want his first date with you to be like this. He wants you all to himself, he’s never been big on sharing, he’s man enough to own it, so even if it pains him to part himself from you, especially after coming all the way to this place just for you has to say no.

At night, as he stares at the ceiling of his room a thought can’t help but wander to his mind: sometimes he dislikes you, who are you and why are you making him feel like this, act like this? He’s never been one to hang onto a crush like this. Today was unexpected, yesterday he was scrolling to your instagram and just a couple of hours ago he gave up his free day to follow after you? He opens your stories once again even when you haven’t made an update since your last clip of you entoning - quite awfully if he is being honest- the opening of Neon Genesis Evangelion.

He tosses around in bed scrolling through your pictures finding just the right one: the hem of your school skirt has ridden high enough for him to see a thin line of skin that your long stockings usually hide. It’s nothing, is just a small glimpse at your legs but still it has him wondering what kind of other thing you could be hiding.

He spits in the palm of his hand, pulling down at his boxers just enough to set his semi half cock free, he coats his member on his emission, head tossing back and a sigh emitting between his lips. What kind of panties do you wear? He strokes himself slowly but firmly, his shoulders easing into the delicious friction. He stares at the picture, you’re doing the peace sign and it’s summer, the outline of your boobs looking so tempting inside the white fabric of your blouse. He begins to stroke himself harder.

What kind of bra are you wearing in that picture? He presses his thumb against his slit, delicious pain flooding through his core. What kind of bra are you wearing right now? Are you even wearing any bra, any clothes?  His erection grows, his mind creates an picture of what he imagines your naked body to look like, he imagines you spread open, juices flowing from your pussy as your fingers desperately try to fuck your hole, but you can’t… He wonders if perhaps you’re doing the same thing he is doing right now…

Maybe your fingers are really rubbing against your own clit at this exact moment, face flushed and eager rhythm, you need to come, you want to come… but you can’t, you are missing something, you’re whimpering into your pillow, wet noises coming from your ministrations but you just can’t come…

What if you’re whimpering his name as you shove your fingers into your tight cunt? He could make you come so badly, he wants to make you come so badly… His strokes grow faster, his pace more erratic. He bets if it were his fingers inside your pretty pussy he’d have you seeing stars, his fingers reaching that spongy tissue that would have you coming undone.

He can almost hear your needy whimpers…

“Atsu… A-Atsumu… please, just fuck me”.

He is so close, frantic strokes and his teeth biting his lips to avoid making any kind of sound that will give away what he is doing, he limits himself to strangle his groan, the metallic taste of blood flowing through his papilas but he doesn’t care. He imagines  pounding into you, your arms holding to his neck for dear life as his balls slap against your sore pussy, you are coming around him and he is filling your insides with his come…

His respiration is coming uneven, lound pants making his chest rise and fall, warm capitulation covering his fingers and his abdomen and his glossy eyes stare at your picture again.

You are hideous, you are just the worst,  and Atsumu really wants to mean it…

He turns around, stomach flat against his bed, head tilted sideways, fingers clenching around his phone, your face clearly present behind his closed lids. His heart is aching, he can feel it longing, needy for your presence by his side.

Sometimes he dislikes you, he dislikes that you leave him craving you like this. Do you even think about him? He sighs, the heavy drowsiness from sleep beginning to take him away.

He mutters your name in the darkness, it wraps around him like a soft duvet. Should he embrace you?

He thinks about your smile, that damned smile that was the beginning of his downfall… He is gonna embrace you, but you’re not going to own him, not unless he makes you need him just as much. He is gonna make sure you embrace him too.

[lumosandnoxwriting]

Summer Heat and Moonlit Kisses - Fred Weasley

Title: Summer Heat and Moonlit Kisses Pairing: Fred x Fem!Reader Summary: Fred and Y/N have been dancing around their feelings for each other since their friendship began, both of them too afraid to admit how they truly feel. But can a summer at the burrow change all that? A/N: for the anon who wanted some fluff at the burrow, with Fred and the reader confessing their feelings for each other! In case it isn’t obvious this takes place between Fred and George’s 6th and 7th year! Feedback is always welcome, and requests are open!

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

Smack!

All of the Weasley’s sitting at the breakfast table flinch, and Fred turns around just in time to see Errol sliding down the kitchen window, a few letters clutched in his beak. Everyone else gets back to their conversations, and before Molly can tell one of the kids to grab the post, Fred is jumping out of his chair.

“I’ll get it!” he announces, bounding over to the window. He throws the window open, reaching down to pick up Errol before setting him on the ledge and taking the mail from his beak. Fred’s fingers shuffle through the few envelopes quickly, pausing when he sees one addressed to him in familiar loopy letters. He tucks the letter into the back pocket of his jeans as he places the rest of the mail in his mother’s outstretched hand.

Everyone else is too preoccupied eating or talking to notice Fred’s excitement over the mail, except for George of course.

“What’s got you so smiley, Freddie?” he teases as Fred sits back down in his chair.

Fred immediately drops all the emotion from his face, taking a bite of his eggs. “No idea what you’re on about, George.”

George rolls his eyes and reaches behind Fred to pull the letter out of his back pocket. Fred immediately tries to grab it back, but George pulls away too quickly. “Bet you don’t have any idea what this is either then?”

“Shove off, git,” Fred grumbles. “Last I checked it wasn’t a crime to send someone a letter.”

“Okay, drama queen, I wasn’t accusing you of anything,” George huffs. He takes a look at the envelope, suddenly understanding Fred’s odd behavior. “Should have figured it was from Y/N,” George teases before handing the letter back to Fred. “You always get like this when it comes to her.”

Fred waits for Molly to turn her back before he flips his brother off, praying the blush on his cheeks isn’t obvious. “I don’t act any differently around Y/N than I do around any of my other friends.”

“Yeah sure, keep telling yourself that,” George retorts before he leans over to steal a piece of toast off of Ron’s plate.

With everyone distracted Fred slips out of his chair and up the stairs, so he can pour over Y/N’s letter far away from George’s accusatory glances.

-

“I don’t know why anyone would want to come here to spend the summer with you two gits,” Ron jokes as he flies in between George and Fred. Fred launches the Quaffle in his hand at Ron and both twins cheer excitedly when it hits him in the back of his head. “Fuck off asshole!” Ron shouts, flipping them off behind his back.

It’s been a few days since Fred received Y/N’s letter, and excitement has been running through his veins ever since. He’d been trying to get her to come spend the summer at The Burrow since before term even ended, and it her latest letter she’d finally agreed to come. Y/N is due to arrive sometime this afternoon, and Fred’s inability to stay still caused Molly to kick him, George, Ginny, Ron, Harry and Hermione out of the house. Everyone apart from Hermione has been whizzing around the back garden on their brooms, passing a Quaffle back and forth for the past few hours.

“I’m surprised it took Y/N so long to say yes,” George comments idly as he comes up next to Fred.

Fred’s eyebrows furrow and he looks over at George. “What do you mean?”

“You can’t be that daft,” George insists with an eyeroll. “She would crawl inside of your pocket and just sit there if she could. You guys are together almost as much as you and I are.”

“Last I checked friends are supposed to spend time together,” Fred responds casually, trying not to read into what George is saying. “You and Y/N spend a load of time together too.”

“Fair point,” George admits. “But I’m not the one she’s been sending letters to the past few weeks.”

Fred bites his lip, looking away from George. Fred didn’t truly take notice of Y/N until third year, but he didn’t pay much attention to anything besides George, Lee and mischief before then. That’s when he first started noticing girls, and it seemed that every week he fancied a different girl in his year, until his attention landed on Y/N. Of course, he knew of her, they were in the same year and in the same house, but it wasn’t until a few weeks into term when he really noticed her, and he hasn’t stopped noticing her since.

One second he’d been thinking about the new bludger bat his parents had scrapped enough money together to buy, and the next his eyes were trained on Y/N, unable to look away as she tipped her head back and laughed at something Angelina said. All the fires in the castle had been turned on to keep away the autumn chill, and Y/N’s cheeks were rosy from the heat. Her eyes were bright with joy and her hair looked like a waterfall as it cascaded down her back. Her laugh sent a shiver down his spine, and he decided in that moment he’d do anything to hear her laugh like that again.

This mission is of course what started their friendship, since one of Fred’s attempts at making her laugh went awry and landed them both in detention for a few nights. Luckily, Y/N had thought his plan to charm Snape’s cauldron to explode was brilliant, so she didn’t mind scrubbing the tables in the Potion’s classroom with him. Like his other crushes, Fred figured his feelings for Y/N would fizzle out and he’d be left with a new friend instead, but the more time they spent together the more intensely he started to feel for her.

Fred didn’t realize how desperately he craved being something more with Y/N until last school year, when Adrian Pucey took her to the Yule Ball. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her all night, she looked more radiant than ever and Fred got angry every time Adrian got to touch her and he didn’t. Fred had suddenly realized that friendship wasn’t enough for him anymore, but Y/N had become such a big part of his life, he didn’t want to risk giving that up. Y/N has Fred wrapped around her finger, and Fred will do anything to make her happy, even if he has to suffer for it. He basks in every moment that they spend together, in every touch they share and every close moment. It doesn’t mean the same to her as it does to him, no matter how many times George tells him it does.

“Hey, Hermione. Good book?” Y/N asks, coming up behind the younger girl.

Hermione turns around excitedly, putting her book down so she can get up and hug her friend. “Y/N! When did you get here?”

“Just a few minutes ago. Seems everyone is a bit too busy to notice,” Y/N responds with a laugh, returning Hermione’s hug.

Hermione pulls away from Y/N, giving her a knowing smile. “Fred will be so excited to see you. He was practically bouncing off the walls this morning.”

“You’re just saying that,” Y/N insists as she blushes, shoving Hermione’s shoulder playfully. Y/N has had a crush on Fred for as long as she can remember, and when they finally became friends in third year she hoped that it would turn into more. Much to her dismay it never did, and no matter how hard she tries to view Fred as just a friend she can’t. He’s absolutely captivating and being around Fred makes her feel dizzy. She had initially rejected his offers to come stay with his family due to her glaringly obvious crush, but the thought of getting even more time with the ginger boy was too enticing to give up.

“As if,” Hermione responds. “Why do you think we’re all out here in the blaring hot sun? Mrs. Weasley kicked us all out of the house because she was tired of dealing with Fred.”

Luckily for Y/N Ginny notices her presence a moment later and when she heads towards the ground at lightning speed shouting her name, the boys take notice of her too and start to head back towards the ground.

“Finally, you’re here!” Ginny greets, practically jumping into Y/N’s arms. She hugs her tightly, laughing as Y/N pokes her in the ribs. “Maybe now Fred will finally shut up about you.”

“It’s nice to see you too, Gin,” Y/N giggles, putting her down. As reluctant as they are to admit it, Fred and George love their siblings, and being friends with them means the whole Weasley clan comes with. After Ginny’s hellish first year at Hogwarts, Fred had expressed his worry for her to Y/N and she took it upon herself to take Ginny under her wing and look out for her.

Ron and Harry reach them next and Y/N greets them both briefly. They’re both fairly awkward around girls still, something both Fred and George love to tease them about. Y/N finds it endearing, but it does make it hard to be around them since Harry can barely look her in the eyes and Ron struggles to finish his sentences. They end up running off after each other as George comes up and pulls Y/N into a hug.

“Welcome to the crazy house,” he teases with a laugh. “You’re going to regret your decision to stay here.”

Y/N rolls her eyes as they pull away. “You guys aren’t that bad. At least here your Mum is around. You may not be afraid of Snape or McGonagall, but I know for a fact you’re afraid of her.”

“Where’s my hug then?” Fred asks as he comes up behind George, and Y/N’s eyes widen as George steps out of the way and Fred comes into view.

Fred runs a hand through his messy hair as he approaches, and Y/N practically drools at the way his veins in his forearm pop out. He’d lost his shirt at some point during the day, so his skin is tinted pink from the sun and the sheen of sweat attached to it is glistening in the bright light. Y/N lets her eyes trace every line of his defined torso, taking special note of how low his jeans are hanging on his hips.

“Freddie!” Y/N squeals as his arms wrap around her waist so he can lift her up. Her arms wrap around Fred’s neck as her legs wrap around his waist, clinging to him tightly. Hermione gives Y/N a look as she leads Ginny away, prompting her to stick her tongue out at the younger girl.

Fred presses his face into Y/N’s neck, breathing in deeply. She smells like she always does, lavender and vanilla, and it makes Fred feel like he’s finally at home. “Missed you,” he mumbles into her neck, resisting his urge to press a kiss to her soft skin. He rests his chin on Y/N’s shoulder, his eyes narrowing as George makes a kissy face before disappearing back into the house.

“Missed you too, Freddie,” Y/N says softly. A shiver runs down her spine as his hands shove under her shirt to rest on the small of her back and her legs involuntarily tighten around his waist. “Ugh, you’re so sweaty,” she teases, twirling a lock off his hair around her finger.

Fred rubs the sweat on his forehead into Y/N’s neck, smiling as she squeals and giggles. “There, now you’re all sweaty too,” he announces happily, pulling away to grin at her.

“You’re insufferable,” Y/N teases, sticking her tongue out at Fred. She can feel his fingers digging into the small of her back, and every time he shifts his back ripples against her calves. Y/N hopes that the blush on her cheeks can be mistaken for the beginning of a sunburn, and she wiggles in Fred’s grip. “Put me down you oaf.”

Fred bites his lip to stifle the groan that wants to escape. Having Y/N in his arms feels like heaven and he squeezes her once more before reluctantly placing her back on the ground. “As you wish, my Queen,” he teases, giving Y/N a sloppy curtsy.

Y/N rolls her eyes playfully. “Maybe George is right, I’m already regretting my decision. I’m just gonna grab my trunk and go home.”

“Oh you’re really in for it now, Y/N!” Fred shouts, chasing her around the garden as they both laugh wildly.

-

“What the hell is that?” Ginny asks, pulling Y/N and Hermione from their conversation so they can look at what she’s pointing to. They’re heading across the back garden, bathing suits on and towels in hand so they can beat the heat at the pond behind the Burrow.

Y/N’s first few days at the Burrow have been incredible, but it’s getting harder and harder to contain her feelings for Fred.  With the unusually hot weather England has been experiencing he’s taken to walking around without a shirt on, and Y/N practically drools every time she looks at him. It doesn’t help that he’s become much more affectionate with her recently. It’s always very casual, like a hand on her thigh at the table or an arm around her shoulders while they all sit on the couch. But every time his bare skin touches hers goosebumps erupt all over her body. Not to mention every time he comes down for breakfast his voice is still raspy with sleep and his hair is tousled. Y/N has had to excuse herself from the room nearly every morning to stop herself from pulling their mouths together.

Y/N watches in awe and somewhat horror as George kneels on Ron’s back, one of his hands pushing his brother’s face into the dirt. Fred and Harry are cheering him on while Ron struggles to get out of his brother’s grasp.

“Whatever it is, I don’t like it,” Hermione responds with a grimace.

The three girls share a look before making a detour to head over towards the boys. They’re all so captivated by what’s going on that they don’t notice the girls have arrived until Y/N clears her throat.

“Do I even want to know?” she asks as all four boys look over at them. Ron and Harry immediately drop their gaze to the ground, their cheeks flushing nearly the same color red, clearly flustered by the lack of clothing the girl’s have on.

Fred’s eyes rake over Y/N’s body, and if he wasn’t already red from the sun he’s sure his cheeks would be burning bright red. Her hair frames her face perfectly, and the sun shining behind her makes it look like she’s glowing. Greek goddesses would be envious of her beauty, and Fred bites his tongue to keep from blurting out all the feelings he’s shoveling down.

“Some muggle thing Harry told us about,” George answers when no one else speaks up. “Wrestling I think. Right, Harry?” George looks over at the younger boy, unable to stop the laugh that bubbles out of his mouth. “Blimey, Harry. You ever see a girl in a swimsuit before?” he teases.

George’s laughter snaps Fred out of his daydream and he reaches over to ruffle Harry’s hair. “Aw poor bloke, still so shy.”

“Boys are weird,” Ginny responds with an eye roll before turning and walking away. Hermione follows quickly after her, and Y/N can’t help but spot the slight blush on her cheeks.

George finally releases Ron and sits back in the grass. “You fancy a go Y/N?” he asks playfully. “Fred was supposed to take Harry on next but I’m sure he’d much rather wrestle with you.”

“Fuck off,” Fred chides, shoving George. “Maybe I should shove your face in the dirt.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, forcing herself to look away from Fred’s bare shoulders. Freckles litter the pale skin, and if Y/N isn’t careful she can get lost in them for hours. “As thrilling as it would be to watch Fred make you eat dirt, it’s hot and I’m going swimming. So you boys can continue with whatever weirdness that was or you can join me.”

“Race you to the pond!” George shouts, kicking off his shoes before taking off in the same direction as Ginny and Hermione have gone. Ron and Harry mumble something about flying before they take off, leaving Y/N and Fred alone.

“You coming, Freddie?” Y/N asks, biting her lip. Fred holds both of his hands out, and Y/N sighs, rolling her eyes playfully. She throws the towel in her hand over her shoulder so she can grab Fred’s hands, a tingle shooting up her arm and straight to her head when they touch.

Fred grins as Y/N pulls him up, purposefully stumbling a bit so he can pull her into a hug. “Thanks for the hand, princess.”

“Yeah you needed it you oaf,” Y/N teases, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach from Fred’s nickname. “Now carry me to the pond!” she demands, pushing him away slightly.

“Of course, my Queen!” Fred drops down in front of Y/N, trying to calm himself down as she climbs on his back. He grips her thighs tightly as he stands to make sure she doesn’t fall. Once her arms have wound around his neck he takes off. “To the pond we go!”

Hermione, Ginny and George are already splashing in the water as they approach and George stops trying to shove Ginny’s head under the water when they come into view.

“Nice of you two to finally join us,” George teases. Before Fred or Y/N can tell him to shove it, Ginny is slinging herself onto his back and pulling him under the water.

“I knew Ginny was always my favorite,” Fred laughs as George flounders around to try and get Ginny off of him. He turns to give Y/N a grin. “Your turn, princess.”

“Fred, no!” Y/N laughs, but it’s too late. Fred is grabbing her off of his back and into his arms, throwing her out into the water. The cold water shocks her warm skin, and Y/N fights back to the surface so she can tell Fred off. But as she wipes the water from her eyes the words that used to be on the tip of her tongue go to the back of her throat as she swallows thickly. Y/N watches as Fred shimmies out of his pants and inch by inch his pale muscular thighs come into view.

“Like the view?” Hermione whispers into Y/N’s ear.

Y/N turns around to glare at Hermione, splashing some water at her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Instead of responding Hermione splashes her back, and within a few minutes all five of them are pushing water at each other, laughing and chasing each other through the water. George and Ginny are the first to exit the water to rest on the grass, both tired from the splash fight and their attempts to drown the other.  Y/N moves a bit deeper into the pond and lets her eyes close as she lays on her back, just floating around to let the cool water lap at her skin.

“Oh,” Y/N gasps as a warm hand wraps around her ankle. She opens her eyes and picks her head up, grinning when she sees Fred looking over at her. “Where did Hermione go?”

Fred tilts his head back, gesturing towards the shore. “She left a few minutes ago, mumbling something about going to find Harry and Ron.”

“So you’ve just been what? Staring at me?” Y/N asks.

Fred nods slightly. “I was thinking about pulling you under the water. I was trying to plan my escape route,” he lies. Truthfully Fred had been studying Y/N. He was tracing the long shadows her eyelashes cast on her cheeks, imagining what it would be like to trace them with his finger. He had watched her chest rise and fall slowly with each breath she took, wondering if he’d be able to feel her heartbeat if he held her close.

“You would have been a dead man, Fred Weasley,” Y/N warns. A shiver runs down her spine as Fred uses his grip on her ankle to pull her body closer. “Water’s getting cold,” she says a moment later, trying to excuse her weird behavior.

Fred knows that he should suggest getting out of the water so the sun can warm them back up, but he can’t resist an opportunity to be close to her. So instead he pulls her onto his lap, so Y/N is straddling his waist. “Come closer, then. I’ll warm you up.”

Y/N wraps her arms around Fred’s neck, so they’re resting on his warm shoulders and she rests her chin on one of her arms. Neither of them says anything as Fred’s arm wind around her waist, his head coming to rest on her shoulder and his face pressed into her neck. Y/N’s eyes flutter closed, and she lets one of her fingers trace mindless patterns on Fred’s back, just letting herself enjoy their moment together.

-

“So Y/N,” Ginny starts as all three girls settle onto her bed that night. They’re all exhausted from the time they spent in the water and out in the sun, so they opted out of the boy’s usual nighttime shenanigans in favor of their pajamas and some girl talk.

“Yes?” Y/N asks as she rips open a cauldron cake.

“When are you going to tell Fred you like him?” Ginny asks suggestively.

Y/N coughs as she chokes on her cauldron cake, shooting Hermione a look of thanks when she hits her on the back. “I’m sorry, what?”

Ginny rolls her eyes playfully. “I said when are you going to tell Fred you like him?”

“I don’t like Fred,” Y/N insists. When Ginny and Hermione share a look, Y/N frowns. “I don’t!”

“Oh please,” Ginny scoffs. “I saw you two today, at the pond. I had my suspicions before but,” she pauses to take a bite of her candy bar. “But that right there was all the proof I needed,” she finishes as she chews.

Y/N blushes as Hermione’s eyes light up. “The pond? What happened at the pond?”

“Nothing!” Y/N says firmly, giving Ginny a look. “Nothing happened at the pond.” Something definitely happened at the pond, but Y/N is still unsure of what exactly it was. Sitting close to Fred, hell even sometimes cuddling Fred is a normal part of their friendship. When Fred is tired he gets cuddly, and there have been a few times that Y/N lulled him to sleep by running a hand through his hair while they sat on a couch in the common room with his head in her lap. But sitting in the water with Fred today felt different. It felt like she couldn’t get close enough to him, like every inch of her body craved to be touching Fred in some way. And Y/N couldn’t help but think that Fred had felt the same way. When Ron had come to get them for lunch both of them were reluctant to pull away and Y/N could have sworn that there was a moment when Fred leaned in as if he was going to kiss her.

“They were all cuddled up together,” Ginny reveals, ignoring the glare Y/N gives her. “Y/N was sitting in his lap, their arms were wrapped around each other. It really was quite cute.”

“I can’t believe I missed that!” Hermione pouts.

“Okay so maybe I do have feelings for Fred,” Y/N mumbles, flipping both girls off as they cheer. “But there’s no way he feels the same way. We’ve been friends for nearly four years now, if it was going to happen it would have already.”

“Are you mad?” Ginny asks. “Y/N, there is literally no way Fred doesn’t feel the same way. I swear he turns into mush whenever you’re around. Hell, the only time he’s actually quiet is when you’re nearby. He was moping around every day until you finally agreed to come and stay, after that he wouldn’t sit still.”

Y/N bites her lip. “Then how come he didn’t kiss me today?” she asks quietly. “He leaned in like he was going to and then he just, pulled away and ran off.”

Hermione frowns. “Have you thought about talking to him?”

“And potentially ruin our friendship? I’ll pass.”

“Y/N you have to notice the way he looks at you,” Ginny reasons. “He looks at you like you’re the only person on the planet. Like you’re the eighth wonder of the world or something.”

Y/N blushes and grabs another cauldron cake to keep her hands busy. “Whatever, let’s just talk about something else.” Y/N grins over at Hermione. “Hermione how about you tell us when you’re going to tell Ron you like him?”

Both Y/N and Ginny burst into fits of laughter as Hermione grabs the nearest pillow and starts swinging at them.

-

“What are you doing down here?” Fred’s soft voice asks from somewhere behind Y/N.

Y/N’s shoulders tense as Fred approaches, and she keeps her eyes trained on the pond, watching as the water ripples in the slight breeze. “Couldn’t sleep,” she answers dully as Fred sits down next to her. Ginny and Hermione dropped off hours ago, but all Y/N could do was toss and turn in her cot as she thought about what Ginny had said. Y/N had always been sure in her mind that Fred didn’t return her feelings, but after what Ginny said and the moment they shared together in the pond, she started to rethink every moment they’ve ever shared together.

“Me either,” Fred whispers as he looks over at Y/N. There are worry lines on her forehead, and her bottom lip is red and puffy from her teeth digging into it. Fred reaches out and gently tucks a piece of hair behind Y/N’s ear. “What’s on your mind?”

Y/N wraps her arms around her shins as she tucks her legs into her chest before resting the side of her head on the tops of her knees so she can look at Fred. He looks gorgeous drenched in moonlight, and when their eyes meet butterflies erupt in her stomach. “Can I ask you a question, Freddie?”

Fred smiles and reaches out to boop Y/N on the nose. “Of course, princess. Can’t promise I’ll know the answer though.”

“When we were in the water earlier, were you going to kiss me?” Y/N asks before she lets her nerves catch up to her.

Fred’s taken aback, and he pauses for a moment, trying to decide how to answer her question. Fred had gotten lost in their tender moment while they sat together in the water earlier, and when they started to break apart it felt natural to him to lean in for a kiss, like it was something they always did. Thankfully he had caught himself and he ended up running off, hoping she hadn’t noticed his slip up.

“Did you want me to kiss you?” Fred asks a moment later, too afraid to answer her question.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Y/N’s tone is firm, but there’s a small smile on her face.

Fred inches closer to Y/N, so their bodies are touching. “Would it be a bad thing if I said yes?” he murmurs.

Y/N shakes her head as she starts to lean in closer to Fred. “Would it be a bad thing if I said I wanted you to?”

Fred moves forward to close the gap between them and presses their lips together. Their first kiss is soft and tentative, but Y/N is still lightheaded when she pulls away. Y/N’s eyes are still shut tight, but she can feel Fred’s gaze on her face.

“I like you, Fred. Like way more than a friend.” Y/N pauses to swallow the lump in her throat, and her nerves start to melt away when Fred cups her cheek gently. “I have for a while and I’m tired of pretending that I don’t.”

“Y/N, will you look at me? Please?” Fred asks. His voice is soft and when Y/N finally looks at him he smiles. “You’re the only girl for me. It’s always been that way, and it’s always going to be that way.”

[hyungieyoongi]

Spotlight: “Run Away to You” Part 3

You knew it was just a matter of time before someone figured it out.

Your carefully constructed reality was about to shatter.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Former Actress!Reader

Word Count: 2.0K

Genre: Angst + Fluff (there’s a hug and everything there is fluff on the horizon!!)

Series Masterlist: Run Away to You

Premise: You ran away from your acting career one year ago, disappearing from the spotlight without a trace. No one from your past life knew where to find you. On the anniversary of your disappearance, your carefully constructed reality is shattered.

Part 2 // Part 4

---

You blinked your eyes a few times to adjust to the brightness of the morning as the sunlight streamed into your room through the crack in your curtains. Your eyelids felt heavy with exhaustion. Glancing at the clock on your nightstand, you let out an audible groan at the time. It was 9:30 a.m., meaning you had slept for four short hours, your brain and restless thoughts refusing to let you sleep until the early hours of the morning.  

After you were finally able to stop the onslaught of tears last night, you sat with Marianne on your carpet and told her everything that happened: colliding with Yoongi at the corner store, the fight in your apartment, and how he comforted you during your panic attack. When she asked about the phone call from your old number, you simply played her the last voicemail Yoongi left you, letting his words sink in on their own.

“Shit,” Marianne breathed out.

“Tell me about it,” you agreed.

Your head was pounding, making you feel like you were suffering a hangover this morning from the lack of sleep combined with the many tears you cried. You went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, hoping the scalding hot water would burn away the memories of everything that had transpired.

You decided to avoid looking at either one of your phones, old or new, when you got out and dressed. Instead, you decided to try and convince your neighbor to let you take her dog on a walk. You desperately needed some company and fresh air to clear your head.

Donning the black hat on the hook by the door this time, you locked the door behind you. At the end of the hallway, you spotted your neighbor holding her little black pug in her arms, peering slightly over the railing at the end that looked out onto the sidewalk and street below.

“Hi there, good morning! What’s going on?” you asked, hoping your attempt at cheerfulness was convincing.

“You have to see this. There are cameras all over the place! The landlord had to come to shoo them from the stairwell and elevator this morning. Apparently, someone famous was sighted here yesterday, and now they’re looking for someone they say lives here? It’s quite the scene down there,” Susan let her pug down as she told you the news. He came bounding over to you, expecting to be showered with cuddles and kisses. Instead, you stood frozen in place, taking in everything Susan had just said.

“Cameras? There are cameras down there? In front of the building?” you asked.

“Yes, dear, isn’t that strange? I wonder if we have a celebrity in our midst!”

You let out a cough, giving Susan a fake excuse that you forgot a jacket so you could leave, ignoring her pug yapping at you for attention.

You were back in your apartment before Susan could question your odd behavior, grabbing your phone that you blatantly ignored when you woke up this morning.

You opened Twitter, going straight to the trending page.

The picture at the top of the list was blurry, but you could clearly make out two figures. It was a picture of you and Yoongi, walking to your apartment from the store. It looked like it had been taken on a phone camera, probably from the park across the street. Someone had to have recognized Yoongi, and now, there were cameras outside your apartment complex.

The picture causing a frenzy didn’t show your face, your hair covering your profile. You scrolled rapidly through some of the comments, people speculating about who the “mystery girl” was that Yoongi was with yesterday.

You knew it was just a matter of time before someone figured it out.

Your carefully constructed reality was about to shatter.

---

Yoongi’s phone was vibrating nonstop on the bed next to him. He tried to ignore it, shoving his face further under the thick comforter, hoping whoever was trying to reach him would just give up eventually.

When it started to vibrate incessantly once again, he finally glanced at the screen, fully prepared to yell at whoever woke him up.

An old picture of you filled his screen, one that Yoongi took when you first started seeing each other. You had fallen asleep on his shoulder after a long day of filming. You looked so at peace, one of his sweaters that you stole from his closet wrapped around your frame. He had snapped a photo, setting it as your contact photo, smiling at it every time you called.

He had never changed it.

Yoongi immediately sat up when he realized you were calling. He assumed he would never hear from you again, that the chapter between you two was officially closed. This time for good.

He answered on the third ring, but didn’t say anything, waiting to see if the call was an accident.

“…Yoongi?” his heart lurched at the sound of his name.

“Yes?” he asked tentatively, his voice rough with sleep.

“I need help. There’s a picture…of us. Together. I tried to call Marianne, but she didn’t answer. Yoongi, I…I don’t know what to do. I need help,” Yoongi waited, holding his breath, “I need you.”

He threw the covers off himself, already heading toward the door of his bedroom. You sounded so scared.

“I’ll come get you. Tell me where you are.”

---

Yoongi had given you careful instructions over the phone, his voice calm and calculated. You were supposed to wait in your apartment until exactly 10:30 a.m. and head down the back staircase to the alley behind your building. A car would be waiting for you there.

He told you to wear a mask and act casual, like you were just getting into a rideshare car. Be invisible and inconspicuous.

A black SUV was idling in your alleyway. You opened the backseat door on the driver’s side, shutting it quickly behind you.

“Miss Y/L/N?” the driver asked, turning around to face you. He had a kind smile, eyes slightly crinkling in the corners from his upturned lips. You nodded once.

“Good morning, I’ll be driving you to Mr. Min’s location. He requested that we send this particular vehicle because the windows are tinted for maximum security. Please make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you,” you said, relieved.

Despite the driver’s assurance, you turned your head away from the window as the car passed the hoard of photographers outside of your building. They seemed to be getting restless with the lack of people coming in and out of your complex. You were grateful to be heading as far away from there as possible.

The car eventually reached a gate, the security guard waving the car forward once it checked the license plates. You pulled into an underground garage. You weren’t familiar with the building; you figured that Yoongi and the boys had moved within the last year as their label continued to grow.

The driver cleared his throat to get your attention.

“Mr. Min would like you to take the elevator, the one just there, ma’am,” he said pointing to the nearest set of silver doors, “to floor 16. He will meet you there.”

“Thank you, you honestly saved me today,” you told him with a grateful smile. He gave you another crinkle-eyed grin.

“It’s nothing, really. Give my regards to Mr. Min.”

“I will.”

The elevator lurched upward toward floor 16, and you realized you had no idea what to say to Yoongi. The doors opened, and you were startled when the man in question was pacing in front of the elevator doors, looking frazzled as he evidently waited for your arrival.

His head snapped toward the open doors when he heard the “bing” of the elevator.

“You made it,” he said simply when you walked toward him.

“Thanks to you,” you replied. “Yoongi, I can’t thank you enough. I know this is the last thing you probably expected today, but I appreciate it more than I can tell you.”

If you weren’t mistaken, there was a pink tinge on his cheeks at your words.

“We have a strategy meeting to get to. The label has some, uh, concerns about the photo.”

Your heart sank at his words, but you realized it was time to stop letting your emotions about the situation run the show. You were potentially going to be forced back into the spotlight you had tried so hard to stay away from. It was time to be professional about this.

“Right. Of course, lead the way,” your tone had become formal, sickly sweet and stiff. It felt unbelievably awkward after spilling your heart out to him yesterday. But you knew your place–you were just part of his label’s damage control problems for the day.

He turned on his heel, leading you down the long hallway, shoes clicking against the tile floor. You followed a foot behind him, wanting to give him, and you, space.

In the meeting, you gritted your teeth, your hands balled into fists underneath the table as you listened to a group of label management and the public relations team discuss what messaging, if any, to put out. Would it be better to let it die down on its own? Release a statement saying Yoongi was visiting an “acquaintance”? There were dozens of options they went through. Yoongi’s eyes kept straying to look at you, but your eyes stayed on the clock above the PR analyst’s head across from you.

When they started discussing whether to release your identity, however, you decided enough was enough. You stood, Yoongi watching your every move.

“Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, but I would feel more comfortable if my publicist was contacted before any decisions are made regarding the release of my private information,” you had worked in this industry, too, and hell, you weren’t going to let these people dictate your life. “As you can imagine, this has the potential to have far-reaching consequences on my own livelihood. It would be best to take no further action until she is in this room with you. Otherwise, I will be forced to contact my attorney.”

The room was silent.  

“Until then, I’ll take my leave. Thank you,” you left with a flourish, the adrenaline leaving you as soon as you made it into the hallway. You didn’t know where you were going, you just couldn’t stay still, your feet carrying you away from the room and the murmurs going on inside of it.

“Y/N, wait,” Yoongi called after you. You sped up, hoping there was a bathroom or something nearby that you could go hide in until Marianne showed up. “Stop walking,” Yoongi’s voice was stern.

You paused mid-step, turning to face him with a blank expression.

“Yes, was there an update from your strategy meeting since I left?” Yoongi rolled his eyes at your comment.

“Y/N, stop, I know what you’re doing. You’re shutting yourself off. I don’t blame you for standing up for yourself back there. But please don’t act like I wanted any part of that meeting,” Yoongi said, defending himself. Your confidence deflated slightly.

“Fine,” you flinched at how harsh you sounded. “I’m sorry. God, all I’ve said to you in the past 24 hours is ‘I’m sorry.’ And I am. I just…this is all…it’s a lot. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon, let alone under these circumstances.”

“My studio is a few floors below us. Come on, let’s get out of here while they figure it out,” Yoongi instructed. He walked past you, but you reached out, hand encircling his wrist to stop him. Your skin burned where it touched his.

“I wasn’t ready for any of this again. It’s all too much, too soon. If people find out who I am, my whole life will change, Yoongi. I-I don’t know if I can handle that.” Yoongi didn’t say anything, so you pulled your fingers away from his arm, expecting him to continue on his way to his studio.

Instead, he wrapped you tightly in his arms, pulling you close against him. He smelled like mint and coffee, and you closed your eyes at the familiarity of it, warmth blooming in your chest.

“It’ll be okay,” Yoongi mumbled, cheek pressed against the top of your head.

Enclosed in the comfort of his embrace, you decided to believe him.

Part 2 // Part 4

---

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[stardusttrashed]

Drunk In Love

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: Swearing, Drunk reader, Fluff, Angst (if you squint), Brief mentions of NSFW

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Fem!reader

Summary: Katsuki comes to pick you up from a hangout after you drunk called him 

A/n: loosely based off drunk me... yes I hogged all the watermelon jolly ranchers by putting them in my bra, don’t judge lol. Also all characters are of drinking age

“Where’s my little dumbass,” Katsuki grumbled as he stood outside the door. The bitter cold was slowly beginning to seep through his numerous layers. He jammed his hands into his pockets, hunched over from the cold and out of annoyance. It was three in the morning and beginning to snow, yet here he was miles away from his warm, cozy house because you had drunkenly called not once but five times. 

“Over there hogging all the Jolly Ranchers,” Sero laughed, nodding over his shoulder. The cold outside air was hitting him like a truck, killing the little buzz he had. He stepped aside, making room for Katsuki to come inside. “She won’t let me get one until she’s done.”

Katsuki could hear your carefree giggles from inside the room, followed by delighted squeals. “What does this one say?” You asked with childlike curiosity as you shoved the piece of candy into Mina’s view.

Katsuki sighed and shook his head, holding back a laugh. “Tch, figures. Damn idiot,” he muttered under his breath as he stepped inside, shutting and locking the door behind him. 

“How’s it going outside?” Sero crossed his arms as he leaned against the wall, casually huddling up to regain the warmth he just lost. “Heard it’s supposed to get colder.”

Katsuki shrugged nonchalantly, “started snowing on my way here.” The small two-bedroom apartment felt like a warm summer’s day compared to the frigid weather. It was like being thrown straight into an oven after spending so long in a freezer. He shrugged off his coat and shoes, “couldn’t exactly ignore her calls, though.” His eyes scanned the small, open room for you. 

“Denki,” you giggled loudly, immediately getting Katsuki’s attention. “I said only watermelon flavor dummy.” Katsuki watched as you pulled a Jolly Rancher out of your shirt. “This isn’t even red, dumbass,” you slurred before throwing the purple piece of candy at Denki’s chest.

“Yeah, dummy,” Mina teased with a smirk. She leaned forward, hunching over to look over your shoulder. You were comfortably situated in between her legs, sitting on the floor in front of her while she sat on the couch. “That’s another cherry, sweetie.”

“Thanks, doll face,” you beamed, blowing her a kiss before tossing the piece into the pile on the coffee table. 

“Here’s another,” Kirishima called out, holding a piece up in the air. Unlike Denki and Mina, Kirishima had mainly kept to himself. He was sprawled out on the loveseat, legs hanging over the armrest. It was comfortable, but he’d be lying if he said part of him didn’t want to be closer to Mina and Denki, helping you stuff the candies into your bra. You were cute; there was no denying that, nor was there any denying that he had the biggest crush on you in high school. But you were dating Katsuki now, and no amount of drinks could make him forget that.

Katsuki watched as Mina and Denki drunkenly scrambled to grab the piece from Kirishima. It was like watching an intense tug of war match between toddlers. His eyes wandered away from them, taking in the empty bottles and candy strewn across the room. 

“Got it,” Mina shouted with a wide grin, grabbing Katsuki’s attention once again. She sat back down on the couch, allowing you to settle between her legs once again. She stuck her tongue out at Denki like a child before focusing on you. Giggles spilled from her mouth, fueled on by your giggles as she reached in your shirt and tucked the piece of candy into your already full bra. 

“Touch her boobs again, and you’re dead raccoon eyes,” Katsuki snapped as she pulled her hand out of your shirt. He let out a huff of satisfaction as Mina and Denki scrambled away from you. “The same goes for the rest of you!” Despite the vagueness of his words, his eyes bore holes into the side of Denki’s head, who refused to make eye contact.

“Is that my Katsuki baby,” you squealed, scrambling to your feet. You could barely stand, your legs wobbling like jelly as you made your way towards him. “Hi, baby! I missed you tons,” you slurred with a dopey smile on your face. You threw your arms around his neck partially to anchor yourself, but mostly just to hold him close. “I haven’t seen you in forever.” 

Katsuki shook his head with an amused chuckle. There was no doubt you were drunk, and as much as he wanted to be upset, he couldn’t be. You were like a child in a candy store, eyes wide and full of awe as you looked up at him. “Hey princess,” he cooed quietly as he wrapped his arm around your waist. “I’ve missed you too.” His free hand cupped your cheek gently, his thumb gently tracing your cheekbone. The way you leaning into his touch brought a loving smile onto his face. “But, I see you’ve been having fun.”

“I would’ve had more if you were here the whole time,” you huffed with a pout. You swore you could feel yourself becoming drunker and drunker from him. His touch. His crimson eyes. His warmth. The sweet burnt caramel smell. Everything about him was intoxicating. He made you drunker than any drink could, and the scariest part was just how addicting he was. You needed your little gremlin more than you needed the air in your lungs. “So pretty,” you muttered under your breath. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward, pressing your lips against his. 

The kiss was shorter than you both would’ve liked, feeling more like a tease than anything else. Katsuki was the first to pull back, causing you to whine quietly.

“Taste?” you asked worriedly, reaching up to wipe away the crinkles of disgust on his nose. Katsuki was never much of a drinker for as long as you have known him. The most you’ve ever seen him have was two shots, so he usually ended up being the designated driver between the two of you. Out of all the conversations you’ve had with him about it, you could never figure out which part he hated more--the taste or becoming impaired. “‘M sorry,” you continued without waiting for an answer.

“It’s okay, baby,” Katsuki reassured you, forcing himself to give you another peck on the lips. Out of everything that came from you drinking, this was always his least favorite part. He hated how the alcohol took over until it was all he could taste on your lips. He missed your naturally sweet taste that would get him drunker than any amount of shots he could ever take. Yet he loved how needily affectionate you’d become, showering him with love and compliments--not that he’d ever tell you. “See, no need to apologize,” he cooed, kissing your forehead. 

“I can kiss her for you,” Denki drunkenly shouted, the alcohol providing him a scary amount of courage. The stupid grin on his face quickly vanished as Katsuki glared daggers at him.

“As If,” you quickly cut in before Katsuki could rip him a new one. “Only kisses I wan’ are from my honey bunches of oats right ‘ere.” You smiled up at him, “right, baby?” You weren’t sure what exactly you were asking about—everything you just said barely processing in your head.

“Good answer, sweetheart.” He leaned in to reward you with a kiss but stopped short at the squeak that sounded from you.

You pressed your finger against his lips, stopping him from coming any closer. “Hol’ on.” You dug around in your bra and pulled out a Jolly Rancher, promptly popping it into your mouth. “Ta-da! Now I’ll taste yummy,” you slurred with a giggle as you sucked on the hard candy.

Katsuki chuckled proudly, hooking his finger under your chin, “you always taste yummy to me.” He pressed his lips against yours, gentle at first but growing increasingly possessive once he notices Denki stealing glances your way. He teasingly sucked on your lower lip, eliciting a soft moan from you. Katsuki took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, caressing your tongue with his until he grabbed ahold of the candy in your mouth, taking it for himself. Despite the hunger in the kiss, when he pulled away, all you could make out in his crimson eyes were complete adoration. “Now, let’s get you home, yeah?” 

You cupped your hand around your mouth and drunkenly whispered, “can we fuck when we get home?” 

“Some other time,” he gently kissed your lips once more, “you need water and rest.”

“Cuddles?” You asked with a pout.

“Sure, sweetheart-.”

“And head?”

“Y/n…”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you squealed before throwing your arms around his neck. “Bye, guys! Katsuki and I are gonna fuck!”

“No, we aren’t.”

“Denki, I’ll call if we don’t!”

Katsuki growled as he wrapped a protective arm around your waist, “like hell, you will!” His hand holding your waist began to flicker as sparks were being created like little poopers. “You’re mine! I’ll kill-,” Katsuki shouted. 

“I’m kiddin’,” you giggle, giving his cheek a peck. “Totally kiddin’ dummy. Y’know I’d only call cutie pie Kiri.” You could feel Kirishima snap his head towards you, his eyes boring into your side. With a shrug, you ignore Katsuki’s shocked look, “he’s cute and sweet. Oh, and easy to make hard!”

“Shut the hell up,” Katsuki snapped as he angrily put his jacket on you. 

“Cause his quirk,” you continued.

“I said shut it!”

“He’s like my dream boyfriend, and you’re my dream husband, y’know.”

“Another damn word, and you won’t get cuddles.”

You gasped, bouncing on the balls of your feet a few times before losing balance and falling into Katsuki’s chest. “Cuddles and fries?”

“No. I’ll see you guys later,” Katsuki called out over his shoulder as he ushered you to the door. 

“Kiri woulda said yes,” you shrugged as you followed him out into the cold. You clung to his arm for dear life, trying to keep him warm and help yourself stand upright. 

“I’m going to blow you to bits if you don’t shut up.”

“Nah, uh, you love me too much.”

“I swear I’m gonna murder you.”

“With love?”

“No.” 

“Rude! My husband Katsuki wouldn’t treat me like this. He’d give me all the cuddles and fries I wan’.” 

“Sure he would,” he huffed as he opened the car door for you. His cheeked grew warm at your new name for him.

“He would! Cause I love ‘im fuck tons and he loves me-,” you gasped, just now realizing the thin white sheet on the ground. “It’s snowing!”

“Y/n, if you don’t get your ass in the car,” Katsuki groaned. “It’s snowing, it’s cold, and I have to drive home to give you cuddles and fries. So, please.” 

“Okay, hubby,” you smiled sleepily, complying almost instantly and earning a chuckle from him. Your eyes followed him as he leaned over you, buckling you in before handing you the bottle of water from the cup holder. “Y’know, I think you’re cuter than Kiri, and I love ya a lot more.”

Katsuki didn’t reply to you; instead, he closed your door and walked around to the driver’s side. He had buckled in and already began driving before he placed his hand over yours, “I love you too, little dumbass.”

“Your dumbass?” You asked as you took a sip of water.

“My beautiful, drunk, dumbass wifey,” he confirmed with a teasing smirk.