#I’M VERY NORMAL ABOUT EMMA | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stevesgother · 2 months ago

Text

Chalkboard Hearts - Pt II

Pairing - Teacher!Steve Harrington x Fem!Mom!Reader

WC - 4.3k

Contains - slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers, single motherhood, kindergarten teacher AU, school field trip, awkward bashful stevie, ONE use of y/n bc the story called for it sorry i don’t make the rules, mention of parent death

AN - here’s part two! I’m so thankful for the love and support you all showed on the first part and continue to show on all my works. It means so much that you guys enjoy my silly little delusions that i happened to turn into silly little stories!

Much love ~ emma

“Well, she’s excelling in English and reading, but struggling a bit with our math unit,” your daughter’s new kindergarten teacher informs you across a maplewood desk clad with plenty of miscellaneous trinkets; Abbey sits on a plastic chair next to you. Normally, it’s not recommended to bring your child to a parent/teacher conference, but with the cost of hiring a sitter lately, this was your only feasible option.

“That being said,” he continues optimistically, “I have plenty of practice worksheets I can send home with you, and if she’s still not getting it in a few weeks, I'm more than willing to stay after hours to work with her.”

You cringe at the idea of him working overtime for you or Abbey, even if it’s literally his job.

“That’s very generous, Mr. H, but–”

He cuts you off, speaking your name in a reassuring tone, “I promise, I’m happy to. It’s not as if I have anywhere else to be,” he chuckles, gesturing to the empty room where you sit.

He senses your hesitation but continues anyway, “Look, I’ll give you the worksheets, and check back in next week. Deal?” he’s clearly asking you, but Abbey beats you to the punch, “Can I use my crayons?”

“Obviously,” he phrases it as though he would expect nothing less.

Abbey gives a barely noticeable little pump of her fist. She’s wriggling around in her seat and you can tell she’s getting antsy with all the ‘grownup talk’. Steve rises first and sticks his hand out for you to shake and when you return the gesture, he takes your palm in both of his.

“Hey, Abbey’s doing great, seriously. You have nothing to worry about,” maybe you look anxious at the prospect of your child struggling in a subject because you somehow weren’t attentive enough, or maybe he can just read you like a book. Either way, his hands on you are dizzying.

“I appreciate that,” you offer him a tender smile as he releases you from his grasp. “What do you say, Abbey? Wanna head home?”

She immediately deflates at the question. School has been in session for barely two months, and all she can seem to talk about is her new teacher. The car rides home and dinners at the table are spent telling tales of his Star Wars impressions, or how he hangs up every picture he’s given on the corkboard behind his desk– how he lets the class have extra recess time if they behave all day long, and how he ‘never ever’ raises his voice.

You can always picture it so easily. There’s something naturally whimsical about him, and anyone can tell he was made for this career. There’s a distant fear that the infatuation Abbey seems to have with him is caused by the absence of her own father, and you wish constantly to be able to give her that– to be two parents for the price of one– but as much as she adores you, there’s always going to be a void in her life that you alone can’t fill. It makes you ache to dwell on it for too long.

“Can’t we stay just a little bit longer?” She pleads with glistening eyes.

“I’m sure Mr. H wants to get home too, Ab,” at that, her features twist into a pout.

Steve kneels in front of her, “I’m gonna see you on Monday though, right?” She tearfully nods, “Good,” he grins and gives her hair a little ruffle when he stands.

“You two have a good weekend, and drive home safe, okay?”

You send him a shy wave, “You too, Mr. H,”

As you’re making your way down the hallway towards the exit with Abbey's hand clasped tightly in yours, you hear a voice along with heavy footfall echo after you, “Wait!--”

When you turn around, Steve’s lightly jogging towards you with a flyer in his hand, “I forgot to give you this,” he pants when he catches up. He hands you a colorful paper advertising a class field trip to Spiller Farm– an orchard a few miles outside of town.

He runs a hand through his hair, mussed from a stressful day doing exactly that, “We still need a few more chaperones, I wanted to ask if you’d be able to?”

Abbey’s demeanor becomes instantly lighter as she begins tugging on your arm, “Please, mommy?!” she begs, as if she’d even have to. “Definitely! Let me double check my schedule and make sure I’m not working,” you smile kindly, “I’ll let you know on Monday when I drop her off,”

For a split second, Steve considers just giving you his number before he thinks better of it. You barely know him, for Christ’s sake. I’d look like a complete creep, He thinks.

“Y-yeah– that’s fine,” he winces at his own awkwardness, “Trip’s on Wednesday,” again feeling like a blundering idiot, as the flyer he just handed you clearly states as much.

If you notice though, you don’t mention it. You simply say,

“See you Monday,”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Abbey seemed to be in better spirits by the time you made it home and popped a frozen pizza into the oven. You’ve always envied the rebound rate of her sour moods; maybe you should take a page out of her book.

She sits at the table playing with two perfectly groomed Barbie Dolls. Her other toys were a different story– baby doll’s with botched haircuts, stuffed animals with unidentifiable stains and the occasional hole, but her Barbies were always considered with the utmost care a five-year-old could offer.

“Mr. H says his favorite pizza is pepperoni,” she says from where she sits behind you, “is that what kind we’re having?”

“No, silly goose, you don’t like pepperoni,” you remind her, “you always say it’s too spicy,”

“Oh, okay,” she sounds indifferent; she trusts you to remember what she likes and dislikes on her behalf, sparing no room in her growing brain for such trivial facts.

“Can I have four slices?” She asks sweetly. You hum and pretend to give it some thought before bargaining, “How about I give you one slice first, and then if you’re still hungry, you can have more?”

She nods, taking the bait. You eventually make it to the table, plates in hand, and eat the greasy slices in a comfortable silence until Abbey asks,

“What kind of pizza did my daddy like?”

It’s not the first time she’s asked questions about Jeremy, and you know it won’t be the last, but your heart still sinks a little every time she does.

“Your dad liked hawaiian pizza, that was his favorite,”

“‘ha-way-en’?” she mispronounces, “what’s that?” her little features contort with confusion.

You correct her pronunciation and reply, “Well, technically It’s a state, but hawaiian pizza has ham and pineapple on it,”

Her confusion morphs to disgust and she giggles, “Ew!”

“I know,” her laughter is contagious, “I don’t like it either,” you wave your hand in front of your nose in a ‘P.U’ gesture.

Her father is no longer a topic of conversation after that. It was always like this– the questions generally mundane and inconsequential, not realizing that the images she’s conjuring are covered in cobwebs and dust; buried deep in the forgotten corners of your subconscious.

When you’re a kid, nothing holds that kind of weight. Petty things like broken toys or an early bedtime are the most of her worries and memories aren’t so burdening– yet another thing you envy of her youth.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The next few days go by without a hitch– school, ballet class and homemade dinners every night– that is until Wednesday morning when you wake up and are immediately confronted with the sun cascading through your curtains, and your alarm that's been beeping for thirty minutes longer than it normally does.

Abbey is straddling your lap and vigorously shaking your shoulders, “Mom! Mom, we have to go!” The panic you feel outweighs the embarrassment of being woken up late by your own child, and you rush to slip on a pair of jeans and the first sweater you make out on top of your hamper.

A sideways glance at the clock tells you that you have exactly three minutes to get out the door– it appears that your go-to look lately is bags under your eyes and your hair scooped up into the nearest claw clip. The trend continues today, though you’re able to dab on a little concealer while Abbey puts her boots on in the mudroom.

You’re both shocked and amazed that she’s dressed– her outfit even mostly coordinating. Unfortunately, the remains of what was supposed to be a ham and cheese sandwich are littered all over the counter. Crackers for lunch today it is.

Grabbing her mostly empty backpack, you ask, “You got everything, Ab?”

“Yep!” She shouts, mostly because she was already outside and standing in the driveway, waiting for you to unlock the car for her.

When you get to the school, several golden buses are parked in a single file line and opening their doors for dozens of children to pour in. A little mortified, you realize you’re the last parent here, and silently pray that there’ll still be a seat for you and Abbey on the bus.

You’re searching for Steve, albeit unconsciously. You aren’t acquainted with any of the other teachers, and he’s your life raft in this sea of chaos and PTA soccer moms. You don’t have to look for very long though, before your name is being shouted from a few feet away on the tarmac. Grasping Abbey’s wrist, you shoulder your way over to where he stands waiting.

“Hey–I’m so sorry, I somehow slept through my alarm this morning,” you blush and muss Abbey’s hair, “this little gremlin woke me up, actually,”

She shakes your hand off her head, “Hey!” she frowns.

“You’re good, promise. I saved you a seat, and Abbey,” he redirects his attention, “Clarissa B. asked to sit with you, is that okay?”

She’s too excited to bother responding, instead dashing inside in an attempt to find her friend. You hear a muffled warning of ‘no running!’, eliciting a shared laugh between the two of you.

“After you,” Steve steps back to let you in first. You spot the only available seat which is dead in the front of the bus– and when you sit down, Steve sits down next to you.

“Well, uh,” he scratches his neck nervously when you scoot to make room for him, “I saved us a seat. Is what I meant.”

“It’s okay,” you give a reassuring breath of laughter, “I don’t mind,”

“Right,” he clears his throat and you feel the bus shift gears to make its way towards the

orchard.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You’ve never been this close to Steve before and right away the space is enveloped with whatever cologne he’s wearing and the spearmint scent of the gum he’s been absentmindedly chewing. He smells of cedar and something musky; cinnamon and spice. You notice now all of the freckles and moles that form constellations over his forearms and neck.

When the silence between you becomes a little too stiff– pleasantries about the weather having subsided nearly ten minutes ago– he asks, “Have you ever been to Spiller Farm?”

“Yeah I– I have,” you say, unsure why you’re suddenly nervous, “My parents used to take me every year when I was Abbey’s age to go apple picking. Have you?”

“Oh, no,” he’s fixated on his hands folded in his lap, shaking his head, “this’ll be my first time, I actually grew up in Indiana,”

“Indianapolis?” You question curiously.

He gave a humorless laugh, “I wish. It was a uh…much smaller town,” he finally looks at you then, faces much closer than you realized in the cramped bus seat, “I came to Maine for college, liked it so much I guess I didn’t want to leave.” This time when he smiles, it looks genuine.

He clears his throat and continues, “Abbey tells me you work in a hospital– RN?

It was remarkable how much you knew about each other despite having very little conversations that didn’t surround Abbey; thanks to your oversharing kindergartener.

You wish that you could tell him you were a nurse, feeling increasingly embarrassed at your lack of a college education, but instead you reply, “Reception,” with a tight lipped smile. Having Abbey so young, and doing it alone at that, left no time for degrees or prestigious jobs.

You expect a sympathetic expression in response, maybe even distaste, but you find only sincerity etched across his features when he says, “That’s really neat, I could never do that. Hospitals they…kinda give me the heebie jeebies,”

“It’s definitely not for the faint of heart,” you agree, “I have so many crazy stories,”

“Well, I’d love to hear them sometime,” he smiles at you so tenderly that it makes you want to disintegrate and float away among the air that breezes through the open bus windows.

“Yeah, I’d like that”, you say, distracted by the hazel flecks in what you had previously thought were brown eyes. Luckily, the distinct jolt of tire on gravel bails you out of more awkward silence and before you know it, you’re filing off the bus and breathing in the scent of freshly picked apples and cow manure.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You foolishly forget that Steve isn’t just here with you and your daughter on his own accord, and does actually have to do his job of wrangling children and organizing the day's activities. He proceeds to do a headcount, looking like he means business with one hand propped on his hip and a clipboard gripped in the other.

He captures everyone’s attention with ease as he does a quick call and response gesture, ‘Clap, Clap, Clap Clap Clap,’ you’re shocked at how efficiently it works to halt their chattering.

“Good morning, everyone!” He beams and the class responds with a choir of high-pitched ‘Good Morning, Mr. H!’’s, he continues, “Alright, so, I’m going to be splitting everyone into small groups. Each parent will have about five kiddos, and I’ll just be floating around to make sure everything goes smoothly. Sound like a plan?”

Everyone agrees in a sea of nods and murmurs and the kids bounce with anticipation– hoping that they might get placed in the same group as their friends. Finally, you hear your name called and Steve pairs you with five children: your own daughter, her friend Clarissa B., a little boy named Beck, his younger sister and a timid little girl named Sophia. You breathe a sigh of relief that you hadn’t realized you were holding when it becomes obvious that all the kids you were assigned seemed to be fairly reserved and not too rowdy.

You lead your little flock over to the barn, where several farm hands are waiting to assist the children in petting the cows, pigs and other various animals. There are red buckets full of pellets that you assume is feed for the goats scattered along the ground, and you can practically feel Abbey buzzing with excitement beside you. She had been begging you for a pet practically the second after she said her first word.

Steve makes his way over to you from the rows of apple trees in the orchard section of the farm while you supervise the kids holding their tiny palms out to the ravenous livestock– slightly anxious that one of them might lose a finger.

You feel a strong hand on your shoulder, “C’mon, don’t wanna pet a dirt-covered sheep?” Steve quips when he reaches you.

“Not particularly,” you huff a laugh, “I was never really a ‘farm animal’ person. I think a dog would suit me just fine,”

“Do you have one?”

“Oh, no. Abbey’s been asking me for one since she was, like, two? I think? I just don’t have the time, you know?”

“Believe me, I get it.” He seems pensive when he responds, looking out over the expanse of the farm, “I never had a pet growing up, either,”

Before you have the chance to express your remorse, Abbey calls, “Mommy, look! Come pet the goat!”

“Be right there!” You call back with thinly veiled reluctance.

“You heard the girl,” Steve pats your shoulder where his hand had been as if to say ‘Go on’. He has an amused if not smug expression when you turn to face him.

“Why don’t you go pet the goat, Mr. H,”

“Hey, she asked for you! Don’t shoot the messenger,” He laughs, “Don’t worry, I'll take over supervising for a minute,” he sends you a wink and it makes your stomach drop, just a bit, like when you miss a step on a staircase but catch yourself just before you fall.

A similar feeling strikes you when you actually do fall, slipping on a particularly slick patch of mud and landing flat on your back. It temporarily knocks the wind out of you, but the sensation is quickly replaced by a white hot embarrassment. Steve’s at your side in an instant, albeit poorly concealing a laugh, “Oh my God, are you okay?” he asks, a little bewildered as he kneels down to help you up and getting his own jeans muddy in the process. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to mind.

You groan, out of discomfort or humiliation, you’re not sure. He wraps two calloused hands around your biceps and hoists you up with a surprising amount of strength. By the time you’re on your feet again, Abbey’s also rushing towards you.

“Mommy, you have mud on your butt,” she giggles. Always Captain Obvious, your daughter.

“Thanks baby, I see that,”

She’s trying to shrug off her jacket to tie around your waist, even if she finds your current predicament rather amusing, but you stop her before she can get very far, “Keep it, Ab, it’s chilly out. I’m okay,” you falsely promise.

“Here, you can have mine,” Steve takes his windbreaker off to hand to you.

“Oh– you don’t have to do that, Steve,” feeling guilty that he’s even offering, “I’ll get mud all over it– and won’t you be cold?”

“Nah,” he shrugs nonchalantly, “I run warm, plus I hear they just came out with these cool things that clean your clothes for you when they get dirty– washing machines I think they’re called?”

You playfully smack his arm and he smirks, “Don’t get smart, Harrington,” taking the jacket from him nonetheless, “Thank you. I’ll wash it for you tonight,”

He shoves his hands in his pockets after you take the garment, unsure what to do with them now that they’re empty, “Don’t mention it,” and there's that damned smile again.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You promised Abbey yesterday that you could pick a bag of apples to make a pie together, so once everyone is satisfied with the time spent at the barn, you all make your way to the dozens of rows of trees, adorned with fresh, bright red fruit for plucking.

“What kind of apples do you think, Ab?” you look down to ask her, “They have Gala, Empire, Granny Smith,” you read off the signs marking each aisle.

“Whichever is the most juicy!”

“That would probably be HoneyCrisp, those are over this way, I think,” you say, putting a hand on her shoulder to guide her in the right direction.

Abbey does more eating than picking, leaving you with all the heavy lifting, despite the numerous ‘No Eating’ signs. You just can’t bring yourself to stop her– not when she looks at you with so much unbridled joy. Eating the apples straight off the tree had always been your favorite part, too.

A row over from the one you were in, you watch as Steve lifts another student onto his shoulders so he can pick the specific apple he was jumping for, and you have to fight the corners of your lips from quirking up into a smile.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

There was a small wooden cabin near the gravel parking lot that doubled as a gift shop, and the shelves were stocked full of handmade knick knacks, glass bottles of maple syrup, and all sorts of treats. It smelled wonderfully of freshly baked fritters and cinnamon.

“Can I get this candy apple, mom?”

“I don’t know, baby, we have to make sure it doesn’t have any peanuts,”

Petulant whining follows before a cheerful, silvery voice declares, “Don’t worry, dear, It doesn’t.” When you turn to find the source, you’re met with an older, stout woman with grey hair adorned in a bandana– the owner, you presume.

“Can I, mommy?”

“Alright, okay. Put it on the counter with the bag of apples,”

She makes a beeline to the wooden counter, barely able to reach over the top as she slams the treat down, sporting a toothy grin.

“Thank you–” you search for her nametag but find nothing.

She fills in the blank for you, “Dorothy,” her lips wobble just a little when she smiles, face wrinkling from decades of laughter and grinning.

“Any time, honey. You two take care now,” she says when she finishes checking out your items. She wags a finger at Abbey, “You be good for your momma, missy,”

“Yes ma’am,” Abbey replies politely.

She skips in front of you contentedly, apple in hand, out of the shop and towards the rest of the waiting students.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Back on the bus, Abbey naps against your chest despite being slightly too big and the candy apple she begged you for is now getting stuck to your sleeve, but you don’t dare disturb her. Steve sits beside you again and this time the silence is much more tolerable; both of you exhausted from a day of governing twenty children, give or take.

“Abbey, uhm, told me about her dad,” he says timidly, nervous that the subject might cross a boundary, “I wanted to offer my condolences.”

You’d already resigned yourself to the fact that you’d have this conversation eventually– especially with Abbey being school aged now.

“I appreciate that,” you reassure, “It was a long time ago, I don’t think Abbey even remembers anything about him.” You realize in real time that this is the reason her questioning of her father has increased in the past few weeks.

He nods and pauses before he continues; contemplating, “Can I ask what happened?”

You turn only your head to look at him and he clarifies, “Abbey only said he ‘went to heaven’,”

“He, uh– car accident.” you answer simply, returning your gaze back to the crown of Abbey’s head resting peacefully on your chest, “She was just about a year old,”

The expression twisting his features urges you to reiterate that you’re okay– you’re both okay. You’ve had nearly six years to reconcile the loss of Jeremy; you’ve mourned, you’ve grieved and you’ve placed his memory tight in a sector of your heart that was designated just for him. But you didn’t want the pity anymore– you didn’t want to be the widow.

He seems to comprehend this despite you having said very little, and decides to drop the topic for now.

“She talks about you all the time, you know.” You nudge him gently with your shoulder and he becomes suddenly shy– a slight blush tinting his cheeks.

“She talks about you all the time,” he counters, “just goes on and on about how her mom makes the best boxed mac and cheese, and always plays make believe with her– even when she says she’s tired.”

You feel the sting of unwanted tears welling behind your eyes, “Well, I–”

“--You do the best you can, and you don’t give yourself nearly enough credit,” he interrupts before you have the chance to discount yourself, “You’re a great mom, Y/N.”

One of the aforementioned tears breaches the edge of your lash line and falls rapidly down our cheek, dropping onto the soft cushion of Abbey’s hair. When the bus abruptly stops, you wipe your face quickly and smear the salty trail it left in its wake.

You harshly clear your throat, “Thanks, Steve,”

“You do that a lot,”

“I feel it a lot.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Back at home, you set Abbey up in front of the television and peel your mud stained jeans off to throw them immediately in the wash, along with Steve’s jacket; not bothering with the hamper.

Once you’ve taken a quick shower to rinse the remaining crusted dirt off your thighs, you make your way back into the dimly lit living room to find Abbey asleep, once again, with her knees tucked into her chest, and the technicolor screen illuminating her features in tones of muted blue.

You strain your back to pick her up, but it’ll be worth it when she’s no longer small enough to carry bridal style into her all pink bedroom, and set atop her princess sheets. You’re thankful to have gotten her into her pajamas already– foreseeing this would happen.

There’s a dull longing in the center of your chest as you kiss her forehead and tuck the comforter up to her chin. It’s that same tug you felt after Jeremy died, when you realized you’d be putting your daughter to bed alone from that point on. It festered and grew until one day it became so routine that you didn’t remember what it felt like to have your partner there next to you, and then it dissipated completely.

Until tonight.

Except for this time the longing wasn’t for Jeremy. It wasn’t even for that ‘perfect man’ you’d sometimes conjure up in your mind’s eye just before you fell asleep at night.

It was for someone new.

divider credit to @/strangergraphics

tag list - @micheledawn1975 @cherryc1nnam0n @paleidiot @adaydreamaway30 @twinkling-moonlillie @royalestrellas @cali-888 @jamdoughnutmagician @kolsmikaelson @soulxiez @sadieshairbrush @the-witty-pen-name @ilovetaquitosmmmm @mrsnarnian

579 notes · View notes

burreauxwrites · 26 days ago

Text

“LOATHING” - (joe burrow x oc)

CHAPTER THREE - “thru the phone”

word count: 1.9k

warnings: 18+ (MDNI)! perv!joe, a wet dream happens, joe has a voice kink, jerking off, over the phone stuff…joe is just really horny this chapter 😭

winnie sighs as she walks into her physics class, spotting a seat next to joe and getting her things out. she had been pushed and almost trampled by all the tall students roaming the halls. it was annoying, but thankfully, she made it.

“god, winnie,” joe snickers, looking at winnie’s disheveled and frustrated appearance, “you look like you just woke up.”

“well. i did. but also, people roam the halls with no sense of awareness,” she groans, putting her book on top of her desk, “or urgency.”

joe chuckles, knowing that winnie hates getting to her classes. even when they were in middle school together, winnie struggled with transitioning between classes.

“yeah? well, that’s the life of a student for you.” he nudges her shoulder, getting a small smile from her.

oddly enough, there’s something about winnie. he’s not sure if it's the fact that she styles her hair, or if she does a bit of makeup, or if it’s her fidgeting. maybe it’s the small pout she does when focusing. but she looks…pretty. really pretty.

joe watches as kaori continues getting her things out, deciding to take a brief moment to speak up.

“hey…you got a volleyball game today, right?”

winnie looks at joe, nodding with a smile. “mhm…why?”

joe grins, raising an eyebrow. “i’m gonna come and watch.”

her gaze softens. truth be told, she really did want joe to be there. she would never say that part out loud, of course. that’s straight up embarrassing. but hearing that he’ll be attending the game did make her heart swell with joy.

“really?” she asks, leaning back in her seat, “i’ll hold you to that.”

“trust me. i’ll always be around if it means i’m supporting you.” joe affirms, his eyes gleaming with a specific fondness to them.

for a moment, a brief moment, the both of them were locking eyes. they may have been looking at each other for longer than necessary, but they couldn’t look away. it’s like they were magnetized.

the bell rings, interrupting their moment. despite this, they share a brief smile, their faces both being bright red.

———————

winnie was warming up with the team as more and more people filled the gym. saying she was nervous would be an understatement. nonetheless, she’s aware of what she needs to do. after all, she finally made the team! this was the exact moment that she’s been waiting for.

as she practices hitting and serving the ball, she notices joe walk in with his friends, ja’marr and justin. his hair is styled with a few curls against his forehead, and he is wearing a sweatshirt with some black joggers. though his outfit is simple, winnie finds it…attractive?

no. snap out of it winnie. now is not the time to be ogling your friend.

as she continues warming up, her friend alina noticed her staring.

“winnie,” she asks, “you don’t happen to like joe, do you?”

with a pause, winnie holds the ball, looking at alina in shock; she wasn’t expecting that question from her.

“no. we’re just friends. why?”

alina rolls her eyes, “just friends my ass.”

in an exasperated sigh, winnie serves the ball over the net. “we are! we go way back. we had a falling out, but we rekindled our friendship.”

“and? i just saw the way you looked at him.”

huh. she did? winnie didn’t think she was that obvious. nonetheless she shrugs. “i mean. it’s normal to find your friend good looking.”

“well,” alina pauses, looking at joe for a minute before looking back at winnie, “you do know that you’ll have to deal with emma, right? she’s crazy obsessed with joe.”

she scowls a little at that. that was a very true statement. winnie isn’t dumb; she’s aware of the fact that many women are attracted to joe on campus. and sometimes, he plays into their attraction. it was something she never ever understood, but she just knew that it was something that he did.

as far as emma goes, she stops at nothing when it comes to getting what she wants. she’d beg, borrow, steal, lie…whatever it takes. but winnie doesn’t get why that bothers her so much. her and joe are only friends, so even if emma does want joe, she shouldn’t care…right?

with a small shrug of her shoulders, winnie speaks, “she can have him.”

alina scoffs, knowing that winnie is putting up a front. she doesn’t press on the subject anymore though.

meanwhile, in the stands, joe was…struggling. ja’marr and justin were laughing about something, probably a dumb instagram post or video. but he couldn’t help but focus on winnie as she warms up.

the way her hair is tied back and her stare is so focused. it’s attractive to joe. but even worse (or better), it was something about those shorts she was wearing. they hugged her curves in the best way possible, leaving nothing to his imagination.

in a way, joe felt guilty for being the perv he was being. this is his friend he’s thinking about. but with winnie looking the way she does? he’s a goner.

“joe…? joe!”

snapping from his thoughts, joe looks at justin and ja’marr. “huh…?”

“you good? you were staring hella hard at winnie,” justin chuckles.

“eh. can’t say i blame him.” ja’marr shrugs, causing joe to slap his hand against his chest roughly.

“i was not staring.” joe denies, shaking his head and folding his arms.

justin puts his hands up. “i’m not judging, man. i mean, she does look pretty good from here.”

joe huffs, waving their words off. “okay, guys that’s enough. i was looking for a very brief moment.”

and as if on cue, justin and ja’marr share a glance at each other. without words, they seem to agree that joe isn’t being smooth like he thinks he is.

———————

their hands were all over each other’s bodies, their lips floating across the other’s skin. the feeling of winnie’s nails dragging along joe’s arms made him shiver, his spine tingling from the excitement and pleasure.

“god…joe,” winnie gasps, straddling joe’s lap as the two sit on his bed.

joe chuckles, his hand on her hip slowly drifting down to her panty-clad core and rubbing very small circles. just small enough to suffice, but still be a tease. and the sensation makes her legs jolt slightly, her lips slightly parted as a breathy “oh, fuck” leaves them.

“you have no idea what it does to me, seeing you in your cute little skirts and stuff,” he whispers, watching as winnie begins to grind against his hand slightly, “or…maybe you do have an idea.”

he takes his free hand, cupping her breast gently under her bra. a soft hum of approval at the soft, supple skin, his thumb massaging her nipple. “the way you act so innocent and nonchalant…but you and i both know what you want.”

winnie’s body trembles at joe’s teasing words and touches, her mind cloudy with nothing but thoughts of him. thoughts about his hands and his lips, thoughts of his eyes piercing into her.

“joe…please,” winnie mewls, looking at joe with a dazed, love drunk look.

“please what?” joe, smirks, leaning in towards winnie’s ear, “if you want me to fuck you, then you better say it loud and clear.”

and with that, winnie wastes no time, nodding and looking at joe, “yes…yes, please, joe! i-i want…need you to fuck me so bad,” she begs, her breath hitching with every pinch and touch joe leaves on her sensitive frame.

“alright, princess. but only because you asked so nicely.”

as joe hooks his fingers around winnie’s underwear-

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

joe shoots up from his bed, looking over at his clock on his nightstand and groaning. he slams his hand on it, turning it off and rubbing his hands over his eyes. he looks down and…

holy shit.

whatever that dream was, it did a number on him. he groans, looking at his morning wood in frustration. having a wet dream about your friend and now having to deal with a boner because of it was not on his bucket list.

he looks down and notices that winnie is calling. and so, he picks up the phone.

“hey, winnie…what’s up?” he asks, still drowsy and annoyed from his dream.

“not much, just…wanted to talk to you. i know we have a physics test soon and i was wondering if we could go over some stuff?”

of course, winnie was up early. studying. but she sounds so pretty and charming, like usual. it pisses joe of to no end, but it also…arouses him.

“sure,” joe nods, his hand slowly, oh so slowly moving down his body, “care to tell me what you remember so far?”

“yeah,” winnie answers, and joe can hear her rummaging through some notes, “so, we’re going over thermodynamics…”

joe would occasionally nod and go along as winnie spoke, hooked on every word she’d say. and he knows that this would be a perverted thing to do, but he can’t help it. not when winnie sounds so perfect.

his hand gently wrapped around his cock, and he swipes some of the pre-cum off the tip. he lets out a small groan as winnie continued going over her notes, stroking his length. the reality of what he’s doing causes his cheeks to turn red, but he doesn’t feel like stopping; he’s too entranced by her to stop. and plus he needs to release some tension from that wet dream.

“there are four different thermodynamic processes, and-”

“fuck…” joe moans, perhaps too loudly. because there’s a moment of lingering silence. “um-”

“joe…are you…jerking off?”

shit. he’s been caught. he can’t lie. winnie isn’t that dumb. she may be a virgin, but she’s not stupid.

“um…yeah?”

“oh…” winnie murmurs, though she doesn’t sound disgusted. rather…intrigued? she eventually speaks, “uh…so should i keep speaking, or…?”

“god, yes…keep talking,” joe nods, sounding a bit desperate, not that he cares.

though joe couldn’t see it, winnie’s cheeks were dusted over with a slight pink shade. she’s never had anyone be aroused by her voice, but it feels…nice? and besides, it’s joe.

“okay…so as i was saying, there’s four thermodynamic processes…”

soon enough, winnie could hear joe’s heavy breathing through her phone. the way he mumbled out small hums and curses made the hair on her body stand up. the thought if having such an effect on someone was a different, but good feeling. even if it was just a friend.

with a loud groan, joe finally comes, riding out his orgasm as spurts of cum land on his stomach and wrist. once he finished, he sighs, resting against his pillow.

“so…you good now?” winnie asks, waiting for joe’s response.

“yeah,” he pants out, “i am…thanks for helping out with that, baby.”

baby…? the name caused winnie’s heart to thump, and she didn’t know how to respond, other than a small “you’re welcome.”

joe looks at his phone, his eyes widening. “shit. i’m supposed to meet justin and ja’marr for breakfast,” he says, quickly sitting up and using some tissue to wipe himself off. “i’ll talk with you soon, okay, winwin?”

“okay…bye!” winnie replies, to which joe bids his farewell too, and hangs up.

as for winnie, she sits on her bed with her notes. her face is warm and her legs clenched together.

it seems like she too has her own little problem now.

we are so back guys :]

#joe burrow #joe burrow fic #bengals #cincinnati bengals #joe brrr #joe burrow x oc #joey b #joe burrow lsu #joey burrow #nfl #joe burrow bengals #lsu joe #lsu!joe

137 notes · View notes

caffedrine · 6 months ago

Text

Matias Asbrink - I fell in love with you that day – Choose your true love - Event Summary

This is mostly a summary for me - I make no promises on the accuracy of what’s happening. I’m not nearly fluent enough to get half the jokes/innuendo much less accurate plot points.

One morning, Emma woke up to find herself in a strange room. She looks around in a panic before her memory comes back. She is in a guest room in the Achroite castle.

(That or a very nice ski lodge)

Her memory comes back to her - she was eating dinner with her new friend, Prince Matias, but it had grown late so he had let her stay in one of the castle’s guest rooms.

Well, Emma isn’t a bad guest. She should get up, get ready, thank Matias for his hospitality, and leave.

She hears the sound of knocking on her door, and then Matias’ voice calls out asking if she is awake yet.

Emma calls back she is and opens the door to Matias. He’s as impeccably dressed as always, without a single hair out of place. He smiles at her and asks if she slept well last night.

Oh, Emma did. A little too well, she just got up and hasn’t fixed her hair yet. She apologizes for being so unkempt.

Matias assures her that she’s just fine, if anything, she’s cute in a new way like this. She reminds him of little snow fairies playing in the powder snow.

But that aside, they have something serious to talk about. You see, Emma broke the rules last night.

Huh?

Emma recounts last night - she doesn’t recall doing anything wrong, but maybe these are some of the laws that defy her common sense. Suddenly all she can see is the cold expression on Matias’s face as he condemns criminals to jail. Her heart beats in her ears as her veins turn to ice.

Matias is usually very kind and gentle, but he acts the complete opposite towards criminals. Even though they are friends, Emma doubts he will show her any mercy.

Ominously, Matias tells her to accept her punishment, and Emma nods, closing her eyes.

. . . !?!!!!

What kind of punishment is this? Emma’s eyes snap open to see Matias’ face, his eyes sparkling sweetly right in front of her. Her forehead, where he kissed her, feels sensitive.

As she stands there in shock, Matias caresses her cheek. He reminds her about their ‘lovey-dovey’ rules, which state if they have a day off the following day, Emma spends the night in his bed. He asks why she didn’t come to him last night - she especially loves cocooning up in his blankets. Up to now, she has always praised his owl embroidery.

Or was she so excited for the punishment that she was teasing him? Don’t worry, he’ll kiss her as much as she wants.

(All day, any day)

Is Emma still asleep? Is this some bizarre dream to taunt her?

Matias has noticed by now that Emma hasn’t responded to him in a while. He says her name sweetly as if prompting her. Then his face comes close for another kiss.

Emma shrieks and asks Matias what he thinks he’s doing. Confused, Matias admits to trying to kiss her again - oh, could it be that she’s not in the mood for kisses?

Emma asks why in the world should he kiss her? Did he work too much as is still tired?

Matias looks upset, shouldn’t they want to kiss each other? Isn’t this normal for them?

Well, no! Emma reminds Matias that they are just friends!

. . . Friends?

Matias mutters to himself to calm down, no matter what is going on he just needs to stay calm. Looking up at Emma pleadingly, he asks if this means she’s dumping him and they’re no longer lovers.

(Will his imaginary ex-wife take him back?)

What?

Matias asks why she looks surprised. She was there too, through their tumultuous breathless times, and enough hardships to freeze one’s heart. Has Emma already forgotten the happiness they found, bursting through the snow like daisies?

Emma looks at Matias, at his ardent expression and grows concerned. He’s always been one to march to a beat of his own tune, but even for him, he’s acting strange.

Emma apologizes, she doesn’t remember anything. She’s only met Matias recently, nothing like what he’s describing has happened.

Matias looks upset, then he looks like he’s come up with something. Did Emma say that had just recently met? But from his point of view, they have been together for a while now, and while it’s still early, they are in their honeymoon phase.

He’s had a daydream like this before. He was wondering what would happen if he went backward in time and met an earlier version of Emma.

Oh my gosh, he daydreamed so hard that he made it his new reality!

Emma considers that, if you ignore all the delusional daydream wording, Matias is essentially saying he’s from the future. It’s too unbelievable- but on the other hand, the Matias she knows does not play practical jokes like this. So, maybe this is real.

Matias asks if this means that he and Emma are not lovers, does that at least make them friends? Oh, so all those plans he had for today . . .

Matias hangs his head, depressed. Emma tries to peer into Matias’ face, but he simply looks gloomy. She tentatively asks what were his plans today.

Well, he was planning on going on a date with her. He had made plans and arrangements for all their activities, but now . . .

As if for proof, Matias pulls out a sheet of paper from his breast pocket.

Emma reads the small, neat lettering, her eyes going wide. He’s put a lot of effort into today.

If it means so much to him, Emma is willing to go on a friendship date. She has the day off from work and nothing in particular planned.

Matias perks up and asks if she’s sure. Emma nearly flinches from the sex appeal centered on her and nods in response. Of course, she will, just as long as Matias keeps it friendly, unlike before.

Matias can agree to that. When in Rome and all. They are friends at this time, so he won’t go beyond that boundary. Emma nods, even if this is future Matias - he’s still fundamentally the same person she became friends with.

After she finished getting ready, Matias’ first stop is the Achroite Royal Academy—specifically its library.

The sight of tall bookshelves reaching up to the vaulted ceiling full of books lifted Emma’s heart. In comparison, Rhodolite’s library was small and simple. Emma looks all around, almost spinning in place and Matias laughs. He explains that he didn’t realize it was her first time coming here, and he’s delighted that she’s so pleasantly surprised.

With a sweet gaze directed towards her, Matias guides her around the library. He explains that the Royal Academy hosts royals and aristocrats from all over the continent, allowing the librarians to purchase books freely. Achroite needs to be unbiased in their knowledge.

Most of the books are academic and law-related, but they boast a wide selection of other genres. Including Emma’s favorite romance novels, all gathered in this particular section. When he was a student, Matias could often be found here.

Emma asks if he is seriously saying that this entire section is romance novels?

Yes, cultivating one’s emotions is a particular skill for adolescents.

Oh, and here! This is one of future Emma’s favorite books. Emma accepts the book and flips through the pages. She thanks Matias, even a cursory glance through the pages shows promise.

If she wants to read for a bit, she should do so in the lounge. Matias begins to lead her further into the library.

When they come across the sofas, Emma sinks into one. Sitting next to Matias, Emma suddenly realizes how quiet and empty the library is and asks Matias about it.

Matias explains that the library is usually full of students, but this time of day, they are attending lectures. Also, this is a very slow time for outside visitors. Emma asks if he finds this atmosphere peaceful, and Matias does, though that’s not the point. He likes to watch Emma’s emotions play out on her face as she reads. He doesn’t want anyone else to see her, it’s his own personal treasure.

Matias smiles at her, his snow-colored eyes burning with a heat that could not be chalked up to just a friend.

Overwhelmed, Emma tears her gaze away from Matias and focuses on the book.

Matias doesn’t seem to mind and continues. After they get married, he would like to build a library just for her in the castle. That way she can read all she wants, and he can enjoy watching her figure all he wants. Oh, and then he could make her coffee, and just as she finishes, he can bring it to her, and she will be all embarrassed and bashful . . .

Emma has heard Matias talking about his future Queen before, but it’s weird to picture herself in that role. Trying to distract herself, Emma opens the book to read it. Matias doesn’t mind and continues elaborating on his fantasy, distracting Emma from reading the book.

Together they leave the library and head to the center of town. Matias is giving her the full tour, and Emma is enjoying it.

Suddenly Matias stops at a shop and asks if Emma doesn’t mind waiting for him while he buys something. Emma doesn’t mind, and while he’s in the shop, she admires the woodworking displayed at a nearby stall. The woodworking of Achroite is truly marvelous, it looks easy to use but the lines are soft and gentle.

Matias returns shortly, with a large, overloaded pack. Emma blinks at it, then asks if he wants her to help carry some of it.

Matias assures her that he is fine with this - the weight is nothing to him.

Okay, but maybe Emma should call for a carriage?

Nope, Matias would rather continue with their friendship date. If he promises to have her home in the evening, would Emma consent to continue with him?

Emma doesn’t mind, but is Matias certain he can handle this?

Of course! When he was a part of the National Guard, Matias once had to walk for three days without sleep, all while carrying a 50kg pack. This is nothing!

Wondering what Matias intends to do with all his items, Emma lets him lead her away to a secluded lake. It is frozen over, and the top sparkles in the sun.

Emma marvels over it, it truly is beautiful, and the scenery reminds her of a scene from the book.

What she had been able to read during Matias’ monologue was a girl who lived by the lake and one day met her soulmate.

While Emma recalled the scene, Matias spreads out a quilt on a nearby tree stump. He admits that he included this in his date plan because of that. He urges her to sit down on the stump and wraps her up in the quilt. Emma thanks him and he assures her that he wants her to be toasty-comfortable.

Matias pulls a log out of the pack and begins setting up a campfire. He explains that as beautiful as it is, the lake is also famous for its cold temperatures, so the blanket won’t be enough. Once he has a happy fire going, he pours water into a cup and heats it up over the flames while he begins grinding a pack of coffee beans. Emma watches as he sets up the water and coffee beans to start making coffee.

Emma praises Matias’ outdoor skills, and he admits he gained most of them while he was in the military. They would often have to camp, so he had learned several skills to avoid freezing.

He hands her the freshly brewed campfire coffee as well as a baked apple. Emma is happy as she eats and drinks, remarking on this luxury. Her happiness makes Matias happy.

Emma asks if he ever cooked like this for his fellow soldiers - and he has. Granted, he would cook meat instead of fruit, but he thought Emma would prefer apples.

In the military, there are a great many hardships, but it’s important to keep morale high. Good food and enough to keep their bellies full does wonders on keeping soldiers content and easier to command.

Emma is happy by all of this, but also happy to have learned more about Matias. As friendship dates go, Matias put a lot of effort into making this one perfect. She looks at Matias, who is sitting next to her, his snow-colored eyes staring back. As she begins to feel overwhelmed by his raw sex appeal, he wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her close to him.

Suddenly Matias tenses up and pulls away. He almost forgot they were friends and not lovers and apologizes for almost breaking the rules.

He shuffles away from her slightly, laughing awkwardly with a troubled look on his face. When he returns to his own time, he will have to have lots of fun with his lover - until he is satiated.

Emma awkwardly notes that he kind of overshared there. Matias points out this has a lot to do with her - in the future at least.

Emma shakes her head; she still can’t fathom them being more than friends. Even though Achroite is relaxed on classism, Matias is still a prince.

Matias asks if she truly can’t imagine falling in love with him. Was their date today that bad?

Of course not! Emma had a lot of fun, and she genuinely enjoyed spending time with Matias, even as just a friend.

In her heart she knows that Matias is a just man, but sometimes, when his eyes grow cold as he is sentencing a criminal. . .

It’s not that she doubts that there is a future with Matias, it’s more that she can’t see herself getting with someone who, on some level, she finds scary.

Matias thinks for a bit and offers to tell her what it is like being lovers. He does not doubt that if she understands the love he has for her, she would want to be his lover.

Emma assures him that she knows his love well enough, after all, she could feel the love he has for her in everything he did today.

Matias disagrees, he may have slipped up at the end there, but he was actively restraining himself to match the friendship rules they set in the beginning. This isn’t what he’s usually like with her. He asks her permission to describe their lives together.

He doesn’t expect her to immediately agree to be his lover, but take it slow, one step at a time.

Okay?

Emma considers this and agrees. Beaming, Matias decides to start at the beginning.

His daily routine is to wake up with her at his side and watch her adorable sleeping face. When she starts to wake up too, she begins by rubbing herself against his body. He snuggles her, and she very cutely clings to him. When she finally wakes, she has the sweetest dazed look on her face, and that is when he kisses her good morning.

(I wouldn't try narrating morning sex as a reason to start dating, but you do you, Matias)

Emma listens to Matias, her face hot with embarrassment. She tries to picture herself as the woman writhing up against Matias, but it falls flat.

It occurred to her that Matias lover is someone else.

Maybe it really is a future Emma that he loves, but that’s not who she is. There’s more between them than sweet words and physical affection - they must have endured so much together to form their emotional bond. Right now, Matias loves and misses his future Emma to the point he’s clinging to her, trying to force her into becoming the woman he loves.

Emma watches the lake as Matias continues to describe their perfect honeymoon-like life. The day grows colder, and eventually, they take a carriage back to town, and Emma dozes off inside.

When she wakes up again, she finds herself back in the Achroite Castle guest room. The sky outside the window is bright with the late morning sun.

She hears a knock at the door and jumps out of bed as Matias calls out a good morning and asks if she’s awake.

Emma opens the door to find Matias on the other side, perfectly dressed with every strand of hair in place. He asks if she slept well and would like to join him for breakfast.

Emma stares at him, unsure if this is her Matias or the one from the future. After a long moment, Matias asks if Emma is feeling well.

Emma assures him he’s fine, but Matias insists. They’re friends, right? She doesn’t need to put on a tough exterior when around him. Emma assures him she really is fine, she just had a really bizarre dream that was so real, she’s just having trouble making sense.

A strangely real dream? Oh, Matias has those all the time. He has lots of daydreams like that!

Daydream . . .? Emma recalls future Matias also mentioning realistic daydreams. But this dream of hers felt like something different.

Tentatively, Emma wants to ask Matias a question. She asks if he sleeps with a blanket with owls embroidered on it. And is this blanket particularly soft?

Oh yeah, he does. Um . . . How does she know about the blankets in his bedroom?

Emma quickly explains that a maid told her about it.

Huh, it’s kind of weird for her to go out of her way to ask about his blankets. Could it be . . . She’s curious about his bedroom? Does she want to spend time, wrapped up in his blankets, relaxing in his room?

Does she want to come to his room?

Before Emma can reply to that, Matias pulls back, shaking his head. He’s gotten ahead of himself, there is a rule in the Asbrink family precepts that a woman must never visit a man’s room without a proper chaperone.

He quickly assures Emma that he is a proper gentleman and would never do anything to her, but rules are rules.

This actually relaxes Emma. This is the Matias she knows and is friends with, someone who cares about rules and is a bit strange, but overall, a nice man.

Matias stops talking about the family rules and smiles at Emma. He explains that he enjoys seeing her smile first thing in the morning - it gives him energy to tackle the day.

That . . . Is something future Matias had mentioned as well. Her heart beats loudly as she thinks about a future she has yet to see. One where she and Matias are truly lovers.

#ikemen prince #ikepri #matias asbrink

164 notes · View notes

orphicmusings · 21 days ago

Note

LOVELOVELOOOVE ur viktor writing . He’s soo boyfriend and i think u capture his character so so well <33 was wondering if you’d consider writing something abt reader experiencing academic burnout (or similar) and him comforting them / convincing them to take a break n rest? :3 if u don’t feel like writing it then no worries !! Take care of urself <33

(kinda apart of my viktor & humanities reader au —)

if there was anyone who would be in the library until it closed, it would be you and viktor. though on opposite sides, in different sections. you always acknowledge each other with a friendly hello if you cross paths, but otherwise you leave him to his studying and he leaves you.

that is, until he sees you slumped against the literary fiction aisle, your eyes closed, head resting on an almost empty shelf. you had an open book held loosely in your hands, your place likely long gone. highlighters and pencils were scattered about your crossed legs, where you sat next to a laptop bag, a notebook and an empty coffee cup. so much for it. he sighed and gently approached you, laying a delicate hand on your shoulder.

“hey.” he tried to keep his voice soft as not to startle you. “i don’t think your neck will be very happy with you.”

you blinked awake, stifling a gasp as your vision adjusted to the dim light of the library, this angle blocking one of the overhead yellow lights, creating a warm halo around the tawny locks of your interruption, making him look more like a savior. oh, no. it’s hot library guy. your cheeks flushed immediately when you realized who was seeing you in this pathetic state. “i…” you cleared your throat, stretching your arms. “thank you.”

“of course.” he chuckled warmly and it made your heart skip a beat. “i…don’t want to state the obvious, but you do know this is not normal, yes?”

your cheeks flushed even more as you let out a sigh. yes, you knew pushing yourself until your brain can’t take it anymore isn’t normal. but how else were you gonna make it through all these tests? “i see you slumped over your books in here, too.” you offered as a hoarse counter.

he tilted his head with a raise of his brow, considering your point. “i don’t fall asleep on the floor.”

you groaned, covering your face in embarrassment. “just…forget you saw me like this.”

“oh, why would i do that?” he chuckled again. “it is quite amusing. proof that caffeine cannot fix everything.” he pointed to your coffee cup. at your tired glare, he relented. “i’m just kidding with you. i’m viktor.” he offered his hand to you. you sighed and took it, pulling you to your feet and introducing yourself. “it is nice to put a name to a face i see so often. now, even though we just met, i feel compelled to walk you home.”

you would have refused, but the sun already went down and you weren’t nearly alert enough to walk home alone. “that…would be nice, thank you.” you smiled thinly, feeling heat flood your face again.

he waited for you to gather your things and hooked his arm in yours. you idly chatted about your majors as you walked to your dorm buildings. for someone majoring in engineering physics, he actually did seem to be interested in your english pursuit. “you know what my favorite book is?” he asked. “a lot of people would assume it is some kind of scientific landmark, a theoretical curiosity, and i wouldn’t deny it.” he chuckled lightly. “but considering this is your area of expertise, i’ll tell you.”

you smiled. “what is it?”

“emma.” he returned the smile. “by jane austen. classic.”

“oh my god.” you giggled. “i wouldn’t expect that from you. but now that you mention it…” you tilted your head. “you do give off knightley vibes.”

pink dusted his cheeks. “that…is a very appreciated compliment.” he returned your energy again, giggling himself. god, you wanted to make him laugh all the time. he dropped you off at your dorm and assured you he was fine to walk back on his own, as his building was right across from yours.

“am i gonna see you at the library tomorrow night?” you asked.

he turned and smiled. “perhaps.”

#my writing #viktor arcane x reader #viktor x reader #viktor arcane #arcane #uuuggghhh i didnt know how to end this

72 notes · View notes

writing-mlm · 24 days ago

Note

sharky the writer you are.. 🙏 could we get another scott x male reader where the reader is a more dominant figure? like kinda playing into the fact scott says he likes people stronger than him and tells emma “you know me, ms. frost. i live to serve.” doesn’t have to be super smutty or anything but sub scott has been on my mind since i saw the cover for the 100th anniversary special where emma pulls a riding crop on him.

Get a room

Summary: After recovering from being held hostage, Scott uses training as an excuse to get under you. Pairing: Scott Summers x Winged!Male!reader Wc: 1.6k Tags: no smut, very sexual though, some medical talk because Scotty is injured, Scott is a loser when it comes to displays of strength

Scott Summers; family man. The kind of guy you can happily bring to meet your family; the type of guy who’d stare your father's gun down with a smile and still shake his hand with a firm grip.

Cyclops; the leader. The kind of guy who commands a room without entering it; the type of guy who’s fought his whole life and will continue to do so.

Scotty; your love. He’s Scott Summers and he’s Cyclops. He’s a man with an incredibly complex upbringing with too many feelings to unravel in one lifetime.

You know him inside and out, boring his soul into yours like a warm hug. So it’s to no one's surprise when you’re put in charge of the extraction team to get him and other mutants out of wherever they’ve been held captive for a week now.

The large metal keys clank to the ground as the door swings open. Breathing a sigh of relief when you see Scott is there, you take a moment to compose yourself and look around the room. It’s just an empty room with a tiny window at the top and Scott in the middle. You frown, seeing that he is tied up in some weird dungeon in the middle of the ocean.

But he’s otherwise unharmed.

He looks up at you, a ghost of a smile resting nicely on his face.

“That pose looks good on you,” You grinned, running your fingers along his arms flexed behind his back, pinning him to sit on his knees.

“Just help me,” He groaned, tugging at the metal cuffs but they didn't budge. Snapping the chain with a tug, you carefully grab his wrists and break the metal connecting them together. He shudders and rubs his wrists; sure they’re going to be sore for a while. “Thank you,” He says as he stands up.

“You can kiss me later, this place is about to blow up— can you open the wall?” He blinks but grabs onto you and blasts the cement wall. It explodes and you cover the two of you with your wing, the thick white feathers blocking the rubble and dust. It oddly sounds like rain hitting an umbrella. When it stops, you shake the wing off and grab him before diving out.

Scott smells the salty sea air as you’re barreling towards the water before you spread your wings and shoot into the sky. He tucks his head in, fearing the air will blow off his shades until you land inside the jet. His feet touch the metal and he unwraps himself from you but still holds onto you for support as you guide him up to the cockpit.

“That’s everyone,” You huff. “Took me a minute to find Scotty.” Rubbing his head, he clears his throat- a silent plea that he needs to look professional right now - and thanks everyone on your temporary team. Not a moment later several explosions can be heard in close succession and then the sound of heavy stones hitting the water.

He settles onto his normal seat on the jet while you check over everyone; providing snack boxes to all of them because you’re sure they were starved in that place.

Once you’re back at the mansion, you drag Scott into the infirmary. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have even entertained the idea but there’s not much he can do to convince you to let him go.

“I’m fine,” He insists while Hank checks his vitals for the third time. It’s been an hour of him sitting there in the uncomfortable hospital gown.

“You have a greenstick fracture on both of your arms,” You correct, flipping through his chart. “Your blood pressure is dangerously low, you’ve lost seventeen pounds in two weeks, and your hips and knees were dislocated— they’re still dislocated.”

“Then heal me, angel,” He grins but winces when the pressure band expands on his arm. You chuckle, shaking your head.

“Charming, but you need your fluids first. Hank will start an IV drip once he’s done with that and then I’ll transfer you up to our room, ‘kay?” He sighs but nods.

“Can I at least help you?” He asks just before you leave. “You still have bits of concrete in your wings.” Thinking about it, you see Hank give a noncommittal shrug.

Sitting on the bed between his legs, Scott helps pick out the rubble from your feathers. His careful fingers preane and pry, dusting and gentle fixing. It doesn’t bother you, your wings and feathers are strong. You hardly feel it when someone touches them. But he still takes such good care of them when you can’t.

After he’s done, Hank cleans up his arm and you watch as he starts the IV drip. He doesn’t need to tell you the instructions for Scott; you’ve done this enough times and gotten through half of your residency to know how to handle an injured Scott.

Scooping him up, he looks away but holds onto your shoulder with this non-IV arm. He’s ever aware you’re carrying him with one arm, the other holding the monitor and drip bags the whole way up from the basement to the second floor.

Oh, how he envies Kurt for having blue fur.

—

When Scott fully heals, which takes longer than he likes because you refuse to heal his hip until he’s put back on the weight from before, he goes back to normal. Almost immediately he begs for a fight; a training exercise— anything. He literally gets on his knees begging because you’d rather spend your afternoon outside than in the stuffy training room. But how can you deny your Scotty? Especially when he’d taken your orders while injured like a champ.

“C’mon Scotty,” You coo, trailing your finger along the length of his jaw, stopping just before your finger left the tip of his chin. “I know you can do it, just a little more.” He grins, his lips wobbling as he struggles against your wings. He grunts, feeling you put more pressure down on him.

“That’s my boy,” You tease, watching him squirm and huff under you. You’re not even touching him, hovering above his stomach with just your wings pinning his chest to the ground. “You can last longer, right?”

“I can,” He nods rapidly, breathless. “I can take it.” His eyes dart from the white feathers to your teasing face and he blows air from his mouth. You lessen the grip, causing a soft whine to escape him, his hands clawing at your pants.

Originally, he wanted to prove that he could escape from under you without his beams. You disagreed, naturally. Because he benches maybe three hundred while you bench four times that, but he was incredibly insistent. A part of you knows he’s getting off to this, though.

“Good boy,” He moans, closing his eyes and biting his bottom lip before he gives up, chest heaving as he relaxes against your grip. Giving up, he rests on his elbows before staring up at you as you scoot up, sitting on his chest. Like putty underneath you, he stares up, resting his head on your leg. You run your fingers through his hair, the sweat from the edge of his hairline makes his hair awfully messy.

“Can you two stop train-fucking already?” Emma scoffs as she walks into the training room with some students. You roll your eyes and lift yourself up, hovering in the air while Scott quickly stands up and gives the students a quick acknowledgment.

“We’re preparing for tomorrow’s lesson,” He tells her but he’s unable to deny the red that’s spread across his face.

“Hopefully it’s less sexually charged.” She teases and you laugh, knocking her with your wing before you drag Scott out. There are other rooms where you practice— actually practice this time. Scouts honor. But Scott just wants to finish up his workout so you join him. He’s on the Stairmaster while you’re using the leg press.

The height advantage he has allows for him to watch you as he tries to beat his record on that horrible machine. He watches as your legs tense under the heavy plates, how you’re not holding onto the bars but rather on your phone. It’s crazy but the lack of acknowledgement of the weight makes his legs wobbly and he holds onto the handles for balance.

“You okay, Scotty?” You ask, hearing the sloppy foot placement and the near slip. “Need a break?” Immediately the idea of beating his record is thrown out the window and he shuts down the machine.

“Mhmm,” He nods and climbs down, making his way over to you. He goes to sit on the floor but you place him over your lap, smiling up at him. Your phone is tossed to the floor, and all of your focus is on him.

“Do your legs hurt?” You ask, feigning being oblivious to the real issue as you work on massaging his calves. “I wasn’t too harsh earlier, was I?”

“No,” He holds your wrists, keeping your hands there. “You weren’t. Yes, they hurt a little.” You hum while you shift a little and watch as his eyes close before he looks down at you.

“What? I have to be in the right position.” You defend yourself as the door to the gym opens. He looks up while you continue your reps, using your wing to wave at whoever walked inside.

“Must you two always be touching each other?” Storm chides as she walks past the two of you. Scott grins, resting his arms on the plate behind your head so he can watch her head over to the treadmills.

“I need a spotter for the leg press, Ro!” You laugh at the poor excuse, looking up from Scott's chest and at his neck where you press a soft kiss. He hums, closing his legs further on your thighs.

“And you know me, Ororo, I live to serve.”

#x male reader #x reader #scott summers x you #scott summers x male reader #scott summers x reader #cyclops x male reader #cyclops x reader #x mutant reader

95 notes · View notes

gretavanmoon · 9 months ago

Text

The Proposition (S17)

Spinning Now: "Birthday Sex" by Jeremih (2009)

Pairing: Danny x female reader

Word Count: 14.3k

Description: Danny's always been that friend and roommate who you never thought of as anything more, until a birthday proposition presents itself in a way that neither of you can deny.

Warnings: Drinking, Cursing, Heavy Flirting, Praise, Dirty Talk, Touching, Wax Play

Smut: Kissing, Oral M!Receiving, Oral F!Receiving, Fingering, Unprotected Sex (use protection!!)

+ This little diddly of an idea has been swimming around in my head for months now, and I've been so excited to get it going. And thanks to the reader who suggested it be a roomies trope ;) Hope ya like xoxo

Girl you know i i i...

HER POV

White or red?

There is no special occasion, simply just the bi-weekly dinner gathering of your friend group that has turned into an every-Thursday-night habit. Not that an occasion constitutes your wine choice, but still yet, the thought quickly crosses your mind. You are all meeting at your and Danny’s house tonight, along with the conjoined group of friends that has been steadily keeping each other fed for the past two and a half years, now.

You’d been living with Danny for as long as you could remember, taking claim of his spare room sometime after everyone collectively moved out of your parents’ homes. The arrangement worked perfectly, the two of you already knowing how the other ticked after being friends for many years. Your jobs kept both of you busy, giving the other enough room that you didn’t feel like you were invading space in the small house.

You pull your phone from your pocket as you peruse the wine selections, texting the group chat to check on tonight’s menu.

You: What are we making tonight again? I already forgot

Jake: Salmon and quinoa and some other stuff

Jake: God your memory sucks

You: Emma, come get your man he’s being mean to me again

Emma: Quit picking on her babe

You: Ok so I should get white wine, right? Pairs with fish?

Sam: Just get three fuckin bottles of wine, who cares

You: Ok I’m not coming if you guys are gonna continue to harass me

Sam: Too bad it’s your house and you have to be there anyway

You: I’ll lock myself in my room I don’t care

Danny: No Y/N, if they’re gonna be assholes they don’t have to come over. They can stay home and we can order pizza :)

Jake: Shut the fuck up Sam, I’m making the damned salmon and quinoa

Josh: What the fuck is quinoa

You shove your phone back in your pocket as you roll your eyes, the buzzing still consistent as you imagine they are still arguing with one another.

It's funny how much Danny has been defending you lately. He’s still his normal self, your very good friend who sometimes lets his sweet side get the better of him, but in the past couple of months, something has switched. The more the brothers pick on you, the more he stands up for you. It used to be the opposite, with him joining in on your playful dog-piling any chance he could get. But ever since a couple of months ago… ever since his last birthday…

Almost three years ago now, you and Danny had found yourselves wrapped up in each other’s arms in his bed after a drunken night that started out like any other, dinner, socializing, cards, and way too much to drink. It was his birthday party, and after everyone else had cleared out, you stayed up to clean up the multitude of plastic cups and empty bottles that were scattered around the house. You were both fairly drunk, and you knew if you got the majority of the party cleaned up that night, you wouldn’t have to bother with it all while being inevitably hungover the next morning.

“I’ll get out of your hair soon, Danny. I’m about to call an Uber to go stay with Emma.” You’d said as you dried the last of the dishes. He was sprawled out over on the loveseat, his shirt halfway unbuttoned and his mess of curls pulled up on top of his head. You’d always found him attractive, but you’d always been positive he was way out of your league. He’d never even given you a passing glance in that way. Except, that night, he looked exceptionally delicious… and your hazy, drunken mind undoubtedly had started to drift.

“What? Whyyyyy…? Don’t get an Uber, it’s too late,” he’d slurred as you walked over to sit on the ottoman his feet were rested on.

“Becauseeee… it’s your birthday and I don’t want to interrupt your time with whatever guest you might have coming over.” You remember the words felt heavy in your mouth, like it was strange that you had never talked about Danny’s personal life out loud before. Or yours, for that matter. Even after all the years of being friends and roommates, the two of you had always taken things as they’d come… watching as strangers made their way in and out of your bedrooms without a second question.

“Guest?” His face contorted. “I ‘ont have a guest coming over, Y/N…”

You’d let your mouth gape open and your hand clutch your chest in a display of over-dramatics. “Really? No one to give you a happy ending on your birthday?! You must be falling off the wagon, Wagner.”

What you do remember, though, was how hard he laughed at your half-assed attempt at a shitty joke.

“I swear! Just me, tonight.” It was at that very second that you remember becoming enamored with the way he licked his lips, how he clicked his tongue just a little, and how his eyes had fluttered closed under his lashes. He’d reached his hand out for you to grab, so you did.

“You gonna let me be lonely on my birthday, Y/N?” His warm fingers slowly worked their way to interlace with yours. This flirtatious tone wasn’t something you’d ever seen from him before, but for some reason, you found yourself tumbling for it. The deep rasp in his voice signaled something else, something so unexpected from him that you almost laughed it off as him kidding with you.

Your eyes had glanced around the room in confusion, and when you didn’t answer, you felt his foot kick into your leg, bringing your eyes back to look at him. His eyebrow was cocked in the air, as if he was waiting for an answer.

“You’re drunk, Danny… you don’t…” you’d anxiously answered, nodding your head side to side in disbelief.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t want me to… stay…” for some reason, he was making you nervous, and you were having trouble answering him. There was no way he wanted you to stay, of all people. No way in hell.

He’d laughed, sitting up on the couch and leaning over to take you in his arms in a giant bear hug. His face was buried into your shoulder, pulling you close in the warmest embrace you’d had in a while. It was strange feeling him this closely, and you shivered a little at his touch. You’d hugged him back, and then felt his lips drift close to your ear.

“I actually do… want you to stay here with me. In my room, in my bed, until tomorrow morning…” his voice crackled in your ear, the faint scent of spicy tequila still on his breath. It’d sent chills all over your body, and you had to admit, it was a strangely welcome feeling. Danny had never been this close to you, like this, ever before. His words had shocked your system, though, temporarily deeming you unable to respond.

So when he finally pulled back from the hug and confidently met your eyes again, you let yourself go with it. You were still fairly intoxicated, but this drop dead gorgeous friend of yours who had hardly ever given you the time of day was now throwing himself into your lap. Why turn him down? It was his birthday, after all.

“I never knew you were into me, Danny,” you’d cooed, watching as his fingers drifted across the back of your hand.

He sat back and dropped his head against the cushion again, cracking his fingers above his head. “I‘ve always been into you, Y/N. You’re gorgeous and fun, make me laugh… always been so good to me.”

You’d never admitted it, but of course you had pictured yourself with him a time or two. How could you not? Talented, handsome, kind and genuine…always looking for fun and always including you in his outlandish plans. But this…him laying it out on the line like this? It had your body beginning to physically yearn for him, completely out of nowhere.

“Stop playing, no you haven’t…” you’d argued, still in disbelief.

He held his hands up in surrender, cocking a sideways smile. “I swear. I just… never had the guts to say anything…”

You contemplated it all for a second, giving him a questioning look that begged for his reassurance.

“Why not, ya know? Not like we’re strangers…” you’d muttered through a sharp inhale.

You stood from the ottoman and slowly began stepping one foot in front of the other toward him, standing just between his legs. Your heart rate spiked as you answered him, your face flushing with the reality of what you were about to do. “Just a birthday hookup, huh? Just this one time?”

You let your hand brush against his thigh, your fingers lightly tickling until they reached his hip. It felt as though your hands were disconnected from your body, making their own decision to reach out and touch him as he sat reclined in front of you. Gently, his hands pulled around your waist, his thumbs digging into the flesh, strong and inviting.

“Just this one time…and that’s it.”

That night, the two of you stayed up until the winter sun was striking through the windows onto Danny’s white down comforter, and only then did the two of you finally drift off to a short but sweet slumber, until the alarm on his phone woke you both in a panic.

You’d fallen asleep upside-down on the bed, both of your heads at the foot of his king-size. His arm was draped across the small of your back, and his hair was still a messy bundle of curls at the back of his head.

“Fuck,” he’d muttered, rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know, it’s your alarm…”

Suddenly, now, in the light of day and the brightness of the room, the both of you became very conscious of your unclothed selves. You’d felt your cheeks blush at the sight of him, skin still dewy with the after-effects of sweat and sex. You didn’t miss his passing glance of you, too, still halfway wrapped up in his sheets as he maneuvered to the top of the bed to check the time.

“‘S only seven. Shit, I’ve got a headache…” he said, running a hand over his face.

“Me too,” you mumbled as he laid back down beside you. You pulled the covers up a bit more over your body, feeling extremely exposed in the bright sunlight. He propped himself up on his elbows, giving you a sweet and questioning look. “So, what are we supposed to do now?” you’d asked. “Cuddle?”

His laugh bounced off the walls, the glitter in his eye sending a wave of nerves through your body.

“We cuddled plenty last night, Y/N. We didn’t end up falling asleep until like, six,” he said, his voice groggy with sleep, or lack thereof.

“Fuck,” you breathed. “I’m sorry for keeping you up all night, I know you have things to do all day–” he cut you off with a kiss, his neck craning down to meet your lips with the sweetest surprise touch.

After a few fleeting seconds he pulled away, meeting your eyes as he spoke again. “Don’t you dare apologize to me, Y/N. I asked you to stay in here. Asked you to keep me company on my birthday.” His hand reached up to pull the hair away from your cheek, bringing instant flashbacks of his hands on your face and shoulders last night as he pinned you down, fucking you into his mattress. “I was just completely unaware that both of us would last for that many hours…” he laughed, rolling away to cover his face.

“God, Danny, don’t embarrass me!” you laughed along with him.

“What is there to be embarrassed about?! Shit, I think we were great together,” he went on, holding his hand out for you to low-five.

You pursed your lips together, letting your hand clap onto his. “We were, weren’t we? Never would have thought.”

“Shit, I thought about it all the time…” he admitted.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” you played, smacking him across the chest.

“I don’t know, you’re just a girl in my friend group, ya know? My roommate that helps me with rent…didn’t want to freak you out or something and make you hate me,” he explained.

You propped up on your elbow, shaking your head at him. “So we could have been doing this all along?”

“Oh, so you enjoyed yourself, then?” he countered, rolling you to lie on your back as he pulled himself over you again.

As you gazed up at him above you, small curly strands falling around his face and onto yours, you felt your face get hot, the same need you felt in your stomach for him last night coming back full force. A need you never thought you would have for him. A need that came back to you over and over again the night before, and left you both too exhausted to even bother to see the morning.

“Danny, we fucked like five times, of course I enjoyed myself,” you tried to keep the confidence heavy in your voice.

His nose scrunched up as he giggled, light and airy into the room. He laced his fingers with yours, lifting your hands together into the air and pulling them back down between you again. This time, you took the initiative and kissed him again, straining to keep things from moving as quickly as they had moved once you finally climbed into his lap on the couch last night.

When you finally separated, both of you refraining from letting it go any further, he disconnected your hands and clenched his jaw. “What do we do now?”

You didn’t want a relationship. And neither did he. That much was very known amongst your friend group, the both of you way too busy with your own lives to devote your time to another. You stood strong in that decision, and you knew for a fact that he would, too. So your mind began wandering, thinking of ways to end this entanglement you’d found yourselves in.

“What if we just… did this sometimes?” you proposed.

His brow furrowed. “I’m listening…”

“Our birthdays. Yours in December, and mine in June… it’s perfect. If the both of us are single on our birthday each year, we make a plan to not leave the other lonely…” The idea seemed preposterous, but at the same time, it didn't. A sure-fire way to make each of your birthdays interesting each year, and after the night you’d shared last night, you’re positive he wouldn’t turn the idea down.

His eyes dashed around the room as he considered it, taking a deep breath as he sat up in the bed. You caught a glance of his naked lower half, and your eyes rolled back on their own accord as you pictured his hips pounding into yours last night in the darkness of his bedroom. You sat up too, challenging his gaze.

He held his hand out again, this time for you to shake.

“Deal.”

—-

After deciding on the three bottles of wine, two white and a red, your mind begins wandering off by itself, causing you to hardly pay attention to the fact that you are singing the words to the song playing in your headphones out loud. You bite your lips, glancing around to see if anyone had seen you, or worse, heard your horribly flat singing voice. Luckily the aisle is clear, so you make a mad dash for the checkout line, ready to get out and head back home for dinner.

The drive is short, and when you finally arrive in the driveway, you find that you’re the last one to get there.

“Hello, hello,” you sing as you let yourself inside, kicking off your flip flops at the door. You set the bag of wine bottles on his island where Jake and Sam are busy preparing the meal.

“Thank god, the booze is here!” you hear Josh sing through the house as he makes his way over to stand beside you, opening the drawer of the island to search for Danny’s wine opener. You set all three bottles in line on the countertop in a nice straight line. “Shiraz, Y/N? That’s surely a bold choice…” Josh says, rolling his eyes.

“The label looked pretty, I don’t know!” you counter, shoving your shoulder into his. “It already smells really good, guys…” you say as you leave Josh to the wine, leaning over Jake’s shoulder as he stirs a pot at the stove. Suddenly Danny is leaning over his other side, sticking his finger in whatever sauce Jake is stirring.

“Aht, aht!” Jake swats his hand away just as Danny sticks his finger into the saucepan. “It’s not perfect yet…”

“Tastes good as hell to me,” Danny says, locking eyes with you as he pops his lips over his finger. You feel your insides churn.

“So Y/N, your birthday is next week, you guys planning your weird little bi-yearly birthday hookup still?” Josh nonchalantly asks as he yanks the cork from the bottle of red. Fortunately, it only took nearly two years for your friends to catch on to your and Danny’s little birthday agreement, when Jake inadvertently tried to surprise Danny with filling up his bathroom with balloons, only to find you bent over the bathroom sink.

“Christ, Josh, you have to put it like that?” Danny intervened. “Geez…”

“What?! That’s what it is, right?” Josh says as he pulls glasses down from the cabinet. You feel your face blush, even though it’s an open topic, at this point.

Danny pulls himself up to sit on the corner of his countertop. “No, we simply enjoy the other’s company on our birthdays because both of us suck at the dating playing field and always decide to indulge in one another’s availability, right Y/N?”

“That’s correct,” you confidently agree as you listen to the others groan.

Josh throws his head back and laughs loudly.

“What?” Danny yelps.

“You don’t think it’s funny that neither of you have ever had a significant other on your birthdays for the past what, three years now?” Josh says, eliciting silent looks of agreement from his brothers.

“Mmm, no, I don’t think it’s funny. We both suck at dating, you heard him. This is just…our way of making sure we aren’t alone twice a year.” The attempt at explaining yourselves is transparent, at this point. You know you’re lying to yourselves. It's obvious. Each and every time you pull yourself from Danny’s bed, or he from yours, you feel your bones begging you to stay. You like him, you’ll admit it, but only to yourself.

Twice a year isn’t enough, it was never enough. And you know for a fact that it will never be enough. On his birthday last year, you could have sworn you heard him say something close to the ‘L’ word as he came for the third time that night, his voice low and whining as you clenched around him, bringing him to his completely fucked-out state of mind. Each hookup had gotten hotter, heavier, and more serious. Each time was better than the last, and this last one was so intense, that you ended up staying in his room a second night, completely breaking your own rules.

As you slipped out of his bedroom that second morning, his honey brown eyes were begging you to stay, his lips touching his fingertips and blowing it your way as you quietly shut his bedroom door behind you.

That morning broke you. That morning your heart told you what it wanted.

That morning was the last time you denied it to yourself– you were absolutely head over heels for him. The yearning you’d felt had begun overtaking your whole self. And it wasn’t just yearning, it was something else. Something more powerful, something you couldn’t grasp the notion of, because you’d never felt it before. It’s now become something that makes your days drag by with the thought of him, not only sexually but personally, too. You feel wrapped up in his life, intertwined with his decisions, and some days you barely even have the time to give each other more than a goodmorning and goodnight. Sure, you still meet up every week with your group for dinner, but the subtle touches and the intense glances that are being shared almost on the daily now have become too much. You want to tell him. You need to tell him.

“Hm. Okay, so… what’s the plan this year?” Josh asks, obviously wanting to pry into your business, just like always.

“Josh, it’s none of your fucking business. Can you leave them alone for a second?” Sam says as he empties the box of rice into the insta-pot.

“No, it’s fine. I have big plans…” Danny bites his cheeks in as he denies himself a cheeky smile, swinging his bare feet as he sits on the counter. His eyes are boring into yours, and you swear just a simple word from him would have you on your knees for him, anymore.

“Big plans, huh?” you try to avoid his stare.

“Mmmmhm…” he says, grinning to himself. “Might have you running away and never coming back, though.”

You nearly choke on the sip of wine swirling in your mouth. Throughout the years, you will admit, your hookups had gotten more and more mischievous as time went on, both of you pushing each other’s boundaries just a little more each time. Nothing had ever gotten too crazy, but after his birthday last year, it was an unwritten understanding that not much was off the table, at all.

Sam plugs his ears with his fingers. “La la la I don’t wanna hear details!”

Jake pulls his wooden spoon from the sauce, turning to face all of you. “I do, I wanna hear it. Keep going. What’s the plan?”

“I’m not fuckin’ tellin’ you guys, it’ll ruin the surprise,” Danny argues as Josh hands him a glass of wine.

“Okay well you can tell me after her birthday then, right?” Jake pushes.

Emma steps in front of him, taking the now dripping spoon from his hand and running her tongue up the side to catch it from going into the floor. “Yeah Danny, maybe you should give him the rundown, maybe it’ll get his wheels turning,” she challenges, bouncing her eyebrows to Jake as she places the spoon back into the sauce. You laugh at her, feeling no embarrassment in the least.

“Get my wheels turning?! What is that supposed to mean?!” Jake yells, grabbing her waist from behind and spinning her around the kitchen.

You lock eyes with Danny again as he gives you a suspicious look of excitement, like he’s trying his hardest to keep his idea locked inside.

—---

After a rambunctious and wine-drunk dinner, everyone begins to file out of the house, stumbling away to either walk down the street to their respective homes, or catching a ride out with other friends to the nearest bar. You’re left behind again, like always, helping Danny with dishes and pouring out the remaining bits of wine left behind in the glasses.

“So, next week. The big 2-5. You still down for hanging out?” he asks as he dries the last dish, as if you would ever say no.

“Actually, I think I’m going to spend this year alone, ya know? Keep it low key, order some take-out and curl up on the couch,” you say with a cheeky tone.

His jaw hangs slack as he nearly drops the towel in his hand. “Really?”

You scoff. “No, Danny. Are you serious? We shook on it, and I don’t break my promises,” you laugh. You slowly walk toward him, the line between friend and more than a friend getting blurrier as time goes on. You want to put your hands on his bare chest, press yourself against his warm body, crane your neck up to meet for a sweet kiss, but you don’t. Because you can’t. Because he isn’t yours.

So instead you just simply stand before him, leaning a hand onto the countertop.

He lets out an audible sigh of relief. “Shew, good. I was about to be pissed at you, Y/N,” he breathes as he playfully shoves your shoulder. “Standing me up on your birthday…”

You smile as you realize your feet are carrying you closer to him on their own. You try to stop them, try to tell them no, but you can’t. Now you’re standing in front of him, your chests almost touching as you let your finger trail up his arm to his neck. “I’d never stand you up, Danny. Not in a million years,” you murmur.

You feel his body stiffen as you let your singular fingertip connect with his skin, your touch a featherlight drift. You glance down at his hand balanced on the cold marble countertop, his fingers tightening and loosening under the weight of his own want to touch you back. You hear him breathe in, fast and choppy as you begin to manipulate the line between friends and more, truly unable to keep it black and white no matter how much you try. Finally you let your eyes look into his, dark and brooding and looking a lot like they do after a few rounds of self-indulgence with you.

“Good,” he growls, “because I have a hell of a night planned for us.”

Us.

“Is that right?” you question, still trailing your fingertip across his arm and neck. You can see the chill bumps forming on his skin now, and you can tell he is physically restraining himself from succumbing to his mental constraints. You have to admit, you’re finding it very satisfying, watching his mind tell his body no. The muscles in his arms flex and tighten as you step closer, slowly tiptoeing to bring your faces close, your lips barely ghosting his.

“That’s very right,” he whispers, opening his mouth slightly as if he’s going to kiss you, but instead pulling back a little. The proximity is enough to make you feel soaked already, your entire body buzzing with fire for him.

“When do you want me ready?” you breathe, letting your lips graze across his, your finger now hooked behind his bicep. His hands are still gripping as he balances between the island and the countertop as he leans down to you, restraining himself still yet.

He’s inhaling and blowing air quickly through his nose, and you know for a fact that he’s holding himself back with everything in him. His jaw clenches hard as his eyes stay trained on your lips. “Want you right now, if I’m being honest…” His words make the butterflies in your stomach explode their wings.

You can taste the wine still heavy on his breath. “But it’s not my birthday, Danny…” you retort.

He takes a deep breath. “I’m getting to a point where I don’t care.”

You swallow it down. Maybe your thoughts are mutual… Your heart is absolutely racing, like it would do when you found out your elementary school crush liked you back. You don’t even know what to say, at this point, you want him so badly…your vision blurring with the mental snaps of the two of you wrapped up in one another again.

“You should care, we have an agreement,” you admit through your teeth, as badly as it hurts to say it. “We set our rules.”

He scoffs hard. “I don’t remember signing my name on any dotted line, Y/N,” he spurts back, making you feel that drop in your stomach again. He wants to break the rules, too.

You bite your lips in, deciding to cut your losses. You step back from him, disconnecting your finger from behind his arm, and stepping away. The flushed look on his pink cheeks is enough to make you want to run back into his arms, and the look on his face makes it seem as though he just lost the one thing in his life he never planned on having, anyway.

“I asked you a question, Danny. When do you want me ready?” you say strongly.

He closes his eyes and recenters, swallowing down his thoughts. “Uh, uhm. F-Friday. Around 8.” He finally cleans up his expression and meets you with a smile again. “Be ready to celebrate.”

—--

DANNY POV

Friday rolls around more quickly than you thought it would. The group had decided to rain-check family dinner this week, planning on celebrating Y/N��s birthday the following weekend when everyone would be in town at the same time.

Your palms had been sweaty all day just at the thought of what tonight would hold, and you realize that you hadn’t been this anxious for a night together with Y/N, yet. The nerves are positively eating you alive, but you shove them down, knowing that you shouldn’t be having them in the first place. She doesn’t feel for you the same way you feel for her, and she likely never will.

It’s heartbreaking and wasteful, really, knowing that your sexual chemistry with her is only put to good use twice a fucking year when it should be being shared with her whenever you wanted to show her how much you really care, but. Here you find yourself.

She’s taking up all the extra space in your mind these days. You feel like you’re floating on air each and every time the vision of her face pops into your mind, you feel like you can feel the blood in your veins rising to a hotter temperature than you’ve ever experienced, and you find yourself wanting to give her all the things she’s ever wanted, and more. Your friend, one of your best friends, you’d say, unknowingly spinning herself into your life in a way that you can’t even tell her about.

That last birthday you shared together, your twenty-fifth, wasn’t the same as the rest before it. Sure, fucking her was high on your list of excellent sexual experiences thus far, but that last time, shit. Had your head spinning for days after. Never had a woman gotten you more fucked up than she did after that night. Two nights, really. That was when you knew it was real. When you wanted to ask her to stay, don’t go… be with me here and don’t ever leave… But your pride got the best of you. So you let her walk out, taking every single last bit of hope you had to make her yours with her as she walked out your bedroom door.

Could she not see it? Did she not notice how horribly you want her, all the time? Surely she doesn’t think you’re just being nice when you do little things for her… offer to change the oil in her car, take her lunch to work, send her every single funny meme and video you have ever come across simply because you know they’ll make her laugh…

Apparently not. But you don’t want to push too hard, too soon, either. If it’s meant to happen, it will. Hell, you hadn’t even told Sam about these feelings you’d been having. No one knows. This is a secret you’d kept bottled up for months now.

You come back inside after a quick trip to the grocery store and gently place the items from your arms onto the island, making sure the champagne bottle doesn’t tip over and break. You stick the bottle into the fridge and remove everything else from the plastic bags before rushing into your bedroom to make sure it’s presentable.

While she was at work, you’d spent the majority of the day cleaning up the general guy-ness of your bedroom, putting on a fresh set of sheets and giving the bathroom a good wipe-down. You’d never cared this much, for what she thinks of your surroundings…

…But you want tonight to be special. You want this birthday to be her favorite one, yet. And you’re determined to do so. You’d placed various candles around the surfaces of your bedroom, trying to make it romantic, but not so much that it will make her think you’re trying too hard.

When you decide that your room is as neat as it’s going to get, you go back into the kitchen and tear into the small cardboard box that’s been hiding away on top of your refrigerator for almost a month now. You’d seen an ad for it while scrolling instagram or something, and you knew right then that you had to get it. Your birthdays spent with her were becoming more and more experimental, and the idea for this year had fallen right into your lap.

You rip the packing tape off the box, letting it fall to the wayside as you open the flaps, finding the perfectly wrapped 2 and 5 candles in all their glittering glory. Shiny, crimson red wax with metallic gold trimming, long wicks and a thickness that regular store-bought candles just don’t have. You smirk as you pull them from the packaging and lay them in front of her small cake- chocolate with white buttercream icing. Her favorite. A glance at the clock on the stove lets you know you have an hour until she gets home, so you scurry off to the shower to get a last-minute scrub before you inevitably hear her coming through the door.

—--

Your stomach nearly falls to the floor when you hear the front door unlatch, and you find her a tired and flustered mess after her long shift. You busy yourself on your laptop, trying your best to seem more involved with what you’re doing than watching her unload her things from her arms onto the table.

“Hey birthday girl,” you mutter without looking back at her. “How was your day?”

You feel her lean all her body weight across the back of the couch beside you. “Long,” she huffs, “but not bad.”

You find the confidence to turn your head to her, finding her resting her head into her palm as she eyes you. You have to reel it all back in as you feel her so closely in your presence again.

“Good,” you reply, keeping it short. “Not too tired to skip our date?”

She hums a sweet laugh. “No. Most definitely not.”

“Are we…leaving the house? I’m trying to decide what to wear…” she asks shyly.

You have to remind yourself that she’s your friend, there’s nothing to be scared of, you do this all the time…

“No, actually. We’re staying home,” you reply.

Home. Your home, with her.

“Eight o’clock?” she reiterates.

“Yep, on the dot,” you tease as she stands to make her way to her end of the house.

She sways down the hallway, tossing her jacket over her shoulder as she disappears into the shadows. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

—---

A few hours later, you’re leaned on the island swirling a lowball glass of tequila, waiting for her to emerge from her bedroom. You’d been standing patiently, fashionably early for your birthday date in the kitchen as you listened to the faint sounds of her music playing as she got ready.

Your nerves are already shot, the tequila doing little to assist in qualming the nervous anxiety swirling through you. So when you finally hear her bedroom door open and her steps coming down the hall, you have to tilt the rest back in hopes that it will hit you a little more quickly.

She’s dressed cute, but comfortable, and you can tell she did her hair that special way that you’d complimented a few weeks ago. She smells like sweet sugary flowers mixed with the woodsy smell of rain, and just her scent as she approached you was already driving you insane.

You meet her in the middle of the kitchen, grabbing her hand to twirl her around into your embrace. “Happy birthday, gorgeous,” you mutter, your face falling into her hair for a second.

Her arms lift around your neck, squeezing just a little as she places the sweetest kiss to your cheek. “Thank you, Danny.” You allow yourself to hold her for just a second, your right hand gripping the wrist of your left at the back of her waist.

“You hungry?” You ask as you pull away from her.

“Yeah, whatcha making?” she replies, taking a seat at the island.

You grab the box of the frozen pizza you’d previously thrown in the oven, displaying it for her.

“Oh my god, my favorite!” she squeals. “I’m so excited.”

You laugh as you fold the box up, cramming it into the trash can. “Knew you would be. It’s not a five-star birthday meal, but. Let’s be honest. I can’t cook for shit, and you love this pizza more than you love a lot of things…”

“No, you’re so right. I’ve actually been craving it for a while,” she giggles.

“Wait, I also gotttttt….” You make your way to the fridge, pulling out the bottle of champagne.

“Shit, pizza and champagne? You know exactly how to make a girl happy, Daniel.” She blushes a little, and you know you’re on the right track for the night.

“You gotta open it, though. It’s bad luck if someone else opens the champagne bottle on your birthday,” you lie, scooting the bottle to her across the countertop.

“You’re crazy. Give it,” she rolls her eyes as she takes the bottle, twisting the key seven times and removing the wire casing. She stands from her chair, gripping the bottle in both hands as she searches for somewhere to aim.

“At the wall! Just not toward a window!” you warn, closing one eye as she begins to push on the cork. Finally it pops off, flying toward the wall as the bubbly pours from the neck of the bottle. “Get it, Y/N, get it!”

She cups her lips over the overflowing bottle, slurping up as much as she can before it flows into the floor. The two of you laugh as you bring two glasses over, letting her pour them up. Just then the timer for the pizza goes off, and the sound of the beeps reminds you that time is ticking, making your nerves rush for the main event.

——-

After stuffing yourselves with pizza and downing the bottle of champagne, the two of you are piled up on the couch sharing a six pack of some crazy peach flavored beer she’d bought last week.

You’re seated on the couch as she reclines across it, her legs in your lap. You’d talked a lot tonight, like more than you maybe ever have before. Sure, you’d been friends for many years now, but majority of the time, you’re surrounded by the other guys always intervening on your conversations, or interrupting your discussions.

But after three hours of deep exchange, you swear you could talk to her until the end of time, and never get tired of it. She looks natural with her bare, sunkissed legs draped across your lap, and your hand that’s mindlessly drifting over her thigh and knee looks like it belongs there.

Her drunken laughter bounces off the walls and right into your chest, making your entire self beam with happiness and adoration for her. The way she takes up space in the home you share gives you an inexplicable feeling. Roommates doesn’t even begin to describe what you want to title your living situation with her.

Your faces are blotched red and tears are falling from your eyes as the two of you come down from a laughing fit, and a sweet recovery silence falls over the both of you. Her eyes are bloodshot from the alcohol, and her face is flushed from the belly laughs.

“You’re really pretty, Danny,” she flits, making you whip your head her way.

“What?” you ask, embarrassed.

“You’re pretty. Well, you’re handsome, of course, but. You’re also pretty,” she explains, her words making you feel shy.

“Oh, thank you, Y/N. Don’t think anyone’s ever told me that before…” you respond. Your hand grips into her thigh a little bit as your head falls back onto the couch cushion. You meet her eyes, the both of you staring at each other while everything else in the room disappears. You hold the gaze for a long while, each passing second making your breathing pick up. Fuck, she makes you nervous.

Finally, she stands, pushing her hair back behind her ear as she reaches for you to take her hand. “Take me to bed, Danny…” she whispers.

Okay.

You slowly stand, keeping her hand in yours as she pulls you into the center of the room. Like magnets, your bodies are pulled into one another, your hands finding both of hers as you turn to walk her backwards down the hall to your room. You move in slow motion as the two of you glide across the wooden floors, taking your sweet, special time.

You take her chin between your fingers, and push her hair back again before leaning down to press your lips to hers. It’s gentle and sweet and slow, her lips parting only just a little bit as you guide her down the long hallway. You allow yourself the indulgence of her lips, the feeling of her tongue gently swiping across yours, the flavor of everything that she is. It’s all perfect, she’s perfect.

Her hands finally find your face and hair, entangling themselves like they always do, pulling you further into her. For this only being the sixth time you’ve done this, it feels like the most natural thing in the world to you. It doesn’t make any sense that you waste your time thinking about it, instead of giving her the loving that she deserves.

But you plan on showing her tonight. You may not be able to tell her, but damned if you can’t try your best to show her.

“Wait, I almost forgot,” you pause as you approach your bedroom door. “I’ll be right back. Stay here,” you command, squeezing her shoulders. “No peeking,” you whisper as you watch her eyelids close.

You’d already strategically placed her cake on the table in your room, with two forks and no plates. But the last finishing touch is the sporadically placed candles. You grab your lighter from your nightstand and light them one by one, watching as the flickering flames cast a warm glow across your walls. Perfect. Lastly, you place the 2 and 5 candles in the center of the cake, but wait to light them.

You slip back out into the hall, finding her still standing with her eyes closed. You grab her hands and pull her to walk toward you. “Keep them closed.”

Her smile lights up your entire world. “What are we doing, Danny? I’m scared…”

“Don’t be scared, babe. S’just me…”

You pull her inside, instructing her to sit down on the bed as you grab the cake and lighter. You balance it in one hand and flick the lighter with the other, lighting the wicks of both the number candles.

“Open your eyes.”

Her eyes flick open, finding the room completely illuminated with orange glow. “Ah, Danny…” she gasps, glancing around the room, and finally to the cake in your hands in front of her.

“Hm hm hmm hm hmmm hmm…” you hum the Happy Birthday song, your voice a bit shaky and jittery with nerves. “Don’t forget to make a wish,” you say, watching as her eyes flick to yours, then back to the cake in your hands. She closes her eyes for a few seconds before opening them again, and blowing out the flames of her 25.

“You wanna know what I wished for?” she asks.

You shake your head. “No. But I hope it comes true.”

You set the cake down on your nightstand and you sit back down beside her on your bed. You bring her in close again, letting your forehead balance on hers before you make contact. You swear to it, you could get lost in kissing her more easily than you could get lost in a foreign country. You’d kissed her a hundred times before, but lately…now…

Things move slowly, things move sweetly…normally the two of you waste no time in ripping one another’s clothes off, biting and scratching and devouring each other like you’re starved, but tonight feels like it deserves more attention than that. It deserves to be appreciated.

Your hands drift to the bottom hem of her cream-colored eyelet lace dress, your hand drifting up her thigh. You pull the dress as you go, revealing her thong hugging her hip. Your hand slips below the waistband, and you run your fingers along it and down the front pantyline, the backs of your knuckles skimming across her heat. She whines a little at the contact, and you feel your vision growing blurry.

You continue kissing her while slowly letting your hands explore her in a way you’ve never let them before, taking special care to pay attention to your every move. The kiss becomes more longing when you let a digit slip into her folds, feeling her wetness coating your finger for the first time in six months. Her hands grip onto your shoulders, pulling your upper body into her. You push her back to lay on the bed, never once disconnecting your mouths.

Her left knee is bent into the air while the other one lies flat, so you push it to the side a little as your hand still hides in her panties. Her hand is yanking at the back of your hair as your featherlight touch drifts up and down, finally landing on her sweet spot. She cries quietly into your mouth when you land on it just right, using your middle finger to swirl her wetness across it.

She sits up a little, reaching to your back to pull your cotton t-shirt over your head. You disconnect for just a second to help her, and toss it to the floor. “Mmm there you are,” she mumbles, her hands rushing across the skin of your chest and arms while you go back to work.

You feel her legs spread, giving you the ok to move further. You let your two middle fingers dip inside of her to the hilt, her muscles already tight and twisting around you. “Fuck baby, you’re tight…” you pull away long enough to say. With your words she tightens around you on purpose, clenching herself as you begin pumping your hand in and out of her. You start to wonder if you’re the only one she’s slept with since December. Not that it’s any of your business, but, lately you’d decided that your feelings for her had gathered so heavily in your chest that that six month gap would be worth it, if it meant she could be all yours.

You watch her face in awe, suddenly feeling no ounce of shyness in the least in watching her come undone around your hand. Her bottom lip bites into her mouth as her eyelids flutter open and shut, and the sounds that escape from her lips make you realize how beyond ready for her you are.

You continue pumping your fingers in and out of her, feeling her drip down onto the bed sheets below you. “You wanna let go like this for me, baby?” you ask, having trouble keeping your breaths even.

“No. Yes, but no…” she concedes. “Wanna… want you…”

You smirk. “Go ahead, Y/N, we’ve got all night. You know how we are...” You take the opportunity to twist your fingers inside of her, turning your arm so that your palm is now pressed against her heat instead of perpendicular with it. You lean down and lick a stripe up the side of her neck as you leave your fingers buried deep, stopping the pumping altogether and instead wiggling the tips of your fingers against the spot deep inside her.

“Fuck Danny,” she breathes. “Keep it there keep it there…” Her eyes squeeze shut as you watch her chase her high, her hand squeezing at your pec and gripping onto it with everything she has.

It’s impressive really, how much you’d learned her body after just being with her a handful of times over the course of three years, learning her ins and outs and what drives her crazy for you, and stowing them away at the back of your mind until the next birthday.

You make quick and heady work of brushing your fingers across that spot, pressing your palm against her clit and adding just the right amount of circular pressure in both places. Her legs fall open even further and her head tilts back, all of her muscles tightening as she cries out, giving you her first orgasm of the night. And you had barely even removed any clothing yet.

When she’s done, you gather up her wetness and pull it onto her stomach under her dress, letting your middle finger massage it onto her skin. “Fuck…” she breathes out, wiping the hair from her face. “That didn’t take me long,” she laughs.

“No, it didn’t,” you agree, sitting up on the bed. “Must be excited to see me.”

She sits up and stands from the bed, pulling her flowy cream dress up over her hips and hiking one knee after the other across either side of you. You lean back away from her straddle, resting your arms back on the bed as you get a good look at her, already glowy. She reaches up and clasps her hands behind your neck. “Very excited to see you,” she admits shyly.

“Hm, really? You see me every day,” you poke, trying to feel out her level.

“Yeah but we can’t do this on random Tuesday afternoons, or in front of our friends, now, can we?” she presses, letting her hips fall onto your lap. You reach one finger to her chest and trail it up to under her chin, pulling her into you. Your heart begins pounding as you fall into a ravenous kiss again, this time bringing more heat than you even began to touch on a few minutes ago. Your hands fall to her waist, pulling her down onto you as she moves her knees to sit closer, pressing your chests together. Your hands travel across her thighs and to her waist, then finally around to grip her ass.

Though your tongue is burying itself deeply into her mouth, you’re metaphorically biting it. You want to tell her that yes, you do want to move things in another direction with her, you do want to hold her hand in front of your friends, you do want them to know how crazy you actually are for her. So in an act of boldness, you try.

“Maybe not in this regard, but they probably wouldn’t mind a little PDA…”

She giggles as she wraps her hands in your hair. “PDA? Like flirting with each other? In front of them?”

“Yeah, just like that. They already know we sleep together sometimes, they have to know we, ya know… are allowed to let it flow into days that aren’t our birthdays…” you swallow the words down, feeling so anxious that she may take them the wrong way, or hate them altogether.

“You think they’d make fun of us?” she asks, her mouth kissing behind your ear.

“Oh yeah, they would. But, I’d be there to slap the fuck out of them if they embarrass you,” you respond, squeezing your hands into her hips.

Her tongue is tickling the sensitive skin around your ear as she lays tiny pecks near your hairline. “I think I’d be okay with a little flirting… sometimes it almost happens naturally, anyway,” she says, making your heart rate soar again.

“Really?”

She nods, coming up to face you now, her cheeks tinted the palest pink. “Mmhm, sometimes I have to stop myself from touching you in front of them. You know, just innocently.”

You swallow hard, knowing the exact feeling all too well. When you’re surrounded by your friends making dinner or whatever it may be, you’ve found yourself having to stop your hand from grazing across her lower back as you walk by, from leaning down to kiss her cheek, anything, all the time. She’s right, it does feel natural to want to do that.

“I do, too, actually,” you admit. “You… It feels normal to me. Just a reflex.” You buck your hips up into her as you speak, your body begging you for some contact.

The whimper that leaves her chest ignites that deep carnal instinct inside you, wanting, needing to connect yourself with her again. You gather the soft fabric of her dress in your hands, signaling to her that you want to pull it off. She lifts her arms above her head, allowing you easy access to tear it all the way off of her. As her hair cascades back down over her shoulders you realize that her dress didn’t require a bra. So, you’re left staring at her left only in her thong, her breasts sitting more perfectly than you remember them. “You’re so gorgeous, Y/N, I swear…” you grit, raking over her body with your eyes.

She hops off of your lap, motioning with one finger for you to stand. When you follow her order, she falls to her knees, working her fingers to unbutton your jeans. “Fuck, wait,” you say. Her eyes glance up at you through her eyelashes. “Pull your hair back.”

She does as you say, pulling her hair into a ponytail at her neck while you undo your jeans with one swift movement. She gets done with her hair quickly, swatting your hand away and pulling your zipper down. “Take them all the way off, Danny,” she demands, and the backs of your knees hit the mattress as you lean over, kicking them and your underwear off one leg at a time. You kick them to the side as she walks on her knees closer to you, taking your already over-hard dick in her right hand, licking her lips just a little before she swirls her tongue around the tip. Everything had just happened really fast, her urgency making your blood pump. Her tongue flattened out against you, and she pressed you all the way to the back of her throat, almost making your knees buckle under you.

She grabs your hand, pulling it toward the back of her head. You take the signal and wrap your hand around her hair just as her lips meet your base, and you hold her there, feeling the saliva already beginning to pool in her mouth. “God damnit, baby, fuck you’re so good at this. Don’t even need my help…” You loosen your grip and allow her to drag her lips across your shaft, adding hard suction as she slowly ascends off.

“Want your help, though. Do it…” she motions, so you do. You use her ponytail to guide her up and down you, forcefully pushing and pulling on her head just like she likes it. The first time you did this, you were a bit thrown off, as you’ve always just let whoever was pleasing you do whatever they felt. But she likes it when you tell her when and where you want her to be.

The candles are physically heating up the air in the room, providing a heat that feels like a heavy blanket on your skin. Your mind flashes with remembering the special candles, and you feel a spark of excited electricity shoot through your body. The baby hairs around her face are beginning to stick to her forehead as her eyes glance up to look at you, doelike and pleading.

She hums onto your dick as you squeeze her cheeks together, taking a hard hold on her jawline as your opposite hand guides her motions. Your head falls back as you feel the knot tightening in your stomach, but you can’t let go just yet. Her tongue swirls around your tip and the sounds that her mouth is making sound downright ruthless, spurring on your albeit degraded current situation.

She moans onto you as her lips pull on and off, all by the force of your hand. You pull her hair particularly roughly, watching as the string of saliva connects her mouth to you, still. You take the second to sit down on the bed, physically unable to stand for another second without losing all will to hold yourself up. She moves in closer and digs her nails into the soft skin between your legs, sending a shake through your body. “Mother fucker baby, keep going with that…” you say, biting your bottom lip as you watch her. She scratches at your skin a few more times before you finally decide you can’t take it anymore, pulling and pushing on her head at a quicker pace.

“Mhmm…” she moans as she nods her head ‘yes’, and you feel the deep rumble in your stomach, telling you that you’re not far. She kisses her lips down tightly on you this time, flicking her tongue in all the right places as you feel her throat tightening around you.

“So fuckin’ deep baby, shit…” you say as your hips jut forward a few times, your dick hitting the back of her throat. Suddenly you feel your world falling apart as you let go into her, the dim orange light of the room turning into flashes of black and white as you send your streams down her throat. You wrap her hair around your hand as you hold her just where you want her, pulling her closely into you as you hiss through your release.

When you finally take a breath and your vision unblurs, you watch as she wipes her chin with the back of her hand, standing to her feet again and joining you on the bed, a completely smug and satisfied look on her face.

“The fuck are you grinning about, huh?” you ask, pulling her in toward you again.

“Nothin’, I just really love being the one to make you make noises like that,” she says, biting back another smile.

“Well, you’ve got me figured out, seriously,” you compliment her, and it was the absolute truth.

She shrugs you off. “Eh, I’m out of practice, really.”

Oh?

“No way, you’re like… well seasoned,” you kid.

“You dick!” she yells, stifling a laugh. “I haven’t even done that in six months.” You can tell she regretted saying it as soon as she did, suddenly avoiding your eyes and pulling one of your pillows up to cover her chest.

“...You’re kidding,” you breathe, truly in disbelief.

She shakes her head. “Lame, huh?”

“N-no, not lame. I–You haven’t, since…?” you stammer.

“Nope. Since your birthday. Go ahead, laugh at me all you want,” she says, motioning with her hand.

Her words hit you right in the gut. She hadn’t been with anyone since you…

“I’m not gonna laugh at you, Y/N. I… I actually haven’t been with anyone else, either.”

Her eyes meet yours in disbelief. “Really?”

You nod. “Not this time around.”

She sits for just a second, hugging the pillow to her. “Why not?”

You shrug, the nerves bubbling in your stomach. “I dunno, no one’s really…struck my interest. Not enough to bring back home, anyway.”

She pulls one shoulder up toward her ear. “Yeah, mine neither. I’ve…tried, ya know, but.” She swallows. “My birthday is my favorite holiday for a reason.”

You can’t stop the joy that rises in your chest, your extremities tingling and your heart beating in your ears as she basically admits she doesn’t enjoy anyone but you. She hasn’t made it work with anyone else in six months.

“Six months is a long time to wait, Y/N,” you mutter quietly.

She pulls the pillow down, moving closer to you on the bed. “Not when what you’re waiting for is all you can ever think about.”

Fuck… it feels like your head is going to float right off of your shoulders out of a pure high at her admission. Your chest gets warm and your mouth goes dry, and you swear if you were looking in the mirror, there would be stars in your eyes.

She feels the same.

After a few seconds of disbelief, you find the nerve to answer her, a hardly audible whisper as you bring your face close to hers. “I think I’d wait for you for fifty years, if you wanted me to…”

Her hand cups your jawline as she grits her teeth, pulling you into her again. Your mouth wants to devour her all over again, but instead you take note of the tender moment, laying a sweet kiss to her lips that has a promise behind it.

Her eyebrows furrow together when you pull away, a look you’re familiar with but also one that told you she’s confused. She opens her mouth to speak, probably to ask you if what you’d just said is true. But nothing comes out. She just stares at you in disbelief.

Your hand finds her hip as you yank her body in with a little force, almost nose to nose now.

“Yeah, you heard me right. I’d wait for you, I will wait for you, if that’s what you want me to do…” you say, feeling so anxious for the outcome of this conversation you could almost be sick. It’s either going to end really really well, or so badly that you’d end up alone in bed tonight. But the risk outweighs the outcome, and you are ready and prepared to take it, whatever it might be.

She swallows hard as you watch her eyes become glazed. Her hands are balancing around your neck and across your shoulders, and you can feel the heat rising in her palms as her digits nervously fidget. It feels like a hundred years pass in the time you wait for her to respond, and you contemplate taking it all back. Making up an excuse, saying just kidding, we’re just friends… But the panic stops as soon as she finds her words.

She shakes her head. “Wait for me… you’d, you wanna actually…?”

“Be with you more than just twice a year? Yeah, Y/N, I really would. You– you kinda have held a really special place for a long, long time now.” You swallow again, letting the words you’ve kept pent up for so long finally flow, but still feeling a little embarrassed by the admission. “I just never said anything, ya know, because of our arrangement. It worked so well for us but. I… I don’t know. It feels like more to me, lately.”

She nods hard again, a tiny smile crossing her lips as her eyes stay trained on yours. But she stays quiet.

“Can you say something, Y/N?” you ask through a huffed laugh.

“It is more, Danny. It’s been more to me for a long time, too. You take up more space in my mind than I’d like to admit,” she says, now avoiding eye contact.

Wow… finally. Finally, there it is.

“Why do we both deny it?” you whisper.

She shrugs, massaging the back of your neck. “I don’t know. But I don’t really want to anymore.”

You wrap your arm around her torso, pulling her weight from underneath her as you lay her flat on her back.

“Then we don’t,” you say as you tower over her, the candle light flickering in her eyes and off of her skin. Her body is beautiful, there’s no denying that, but what has always gotten you is how she carries herself…how her body language is always reflective of exactly what she’s feeling in the moment. And right now, as her midsection arches up into you begging you to touch her again, you have no other thoughts than to appease her.

Your mouth travels down her chest and across her belly, leaving long, lingering kisses across her body. As you get closer and closer to her heat, you move to kneel on the floor just as she had for you earlier, slipping your hands underneath her to pull her to the edge. Even in all your wild, drunken sexual adventures with her, for some reason, you’d never concentrated on this. You’d never gone down on her. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, as it was one of your favorite activities, but the immediate pull to one another on these nights always ended up with getting straight to the good part. Neither of you really ever left time for the embellishments.

She perks up onto her elbows as she gazes at your face between her legs. “Danny…”

“Let me show you what I mean, baby,” you more ask than say, running your tongue down the inside of her thigh. Her body stiffens as she still gives you that look of hesitation. Your tongue drifts over her opening as you tease her, barely ghosting overtop of everywhere but her sweet spot. She shudders again. “Unless you don’t want me to…”

“No! No I want you to. Please. You’ve just…” she finally relaxes her head back down.

“I know I haven’t. And that’s on me. But I wanna show you that I’ve been thinking about this, doing just this since the last time I had you…” you explain, finally delving your tongue deeply into her. Her reaction is immediate, her back arching up again as her hands find your hair. The sounds she makes make you strain to keep it together, and the taste of her finally on your tongue is enough to make you want to stop altogether, and get to the good part, but you savor this instead, realizing you’ve wanted her like this for so long.

You squeeze your lips over her, inching your tongue languidly inside of her and moving it back up to circle her clit. When you finally find it, she squeals, exhaling as her hands rip into your scalp. You glance to the head of the bed, pulling down a pillow and positioning it underneath her back to get a better angle. Your hands snake under her again, squeezing her ass as you pull her in.

“Fuck Danny, why did you hold back on this for so long?” she asks through a pant, her legs opening and closing over your ears. “Shit…” You realize that you don’t really have an answer.

She’s writhing and fighting herself, and you can tell she’s nearing the peak, until she backs off again, likely wanting to make this last. She hums and purrs as you work over her clit, using your tongue and lips to kiss every single drenched inch of her. You feel like you can’t get enough, until you remember. Her birthday gift.

You slow things down, pulling away a bit until you see the disgruntled look on her face at the disconnect. “No, don’t stop… don’t go..” she begs. Her expression is desperate, and you want nothing more than to feel her lose herself at the mercy of your mouth. So you dive back in, this time with a purpose.

“‘M not goin’ anywhere, baby,” you manage through kneads of your tongue against her. You bring your arm up between the two of you, using your elbow and hand to press her legs apart while your free hand’s two middle digits enter her again. Your tongue never lets up, circling and swirling furiously as her muscles tense. You take that as your cue to work harder, feeling her clenching around your hand already. You pump in and out of her again, making sure your tongue is pointed exactly where she needs it.

“Fuck, Danny baby… yes…” she breathes, and the pet name sends a shockwave straight to your dick, hearing her utter your name followed by a word so personal. You cup your lips over her clit, using a quick and harsh suction motion as you flick your tongue across it.

When she finally lets go, her cries and slurs of curses echo through your room, the most beautiful sound you’re sure you’ve ever heard. Her hands stay tangled in your locks, forcing your face into her as close as you can get. You savor it all, the sight, the sound, the taste… you wonder why you ever denied yourselves this piece of the puzzle after all this time, but then again, maybe saving something this intimate for right now is exactly what was supposed to happen.

Her body jolts and shakes as she lets the pleasure wrack through her, and you devour every last bit. You crawl up her once she opens her eyes again, her hand freeing from your hair and back down to your face, pulling across your cheeks and mouth as she wipes her wetness from you. Her voice is strained as she finally speaks. “Fuck that was…”

“Fucking delicious,” you finish, pressing your lips to hers again, making her nod into you.

“Yeah, fucking delicious,” she agrees, wrapping her legs around you and using the leverage to pull you onto her. If you weren’t rock hard before, you surely are now after witnessing her falling apart for you like that. You can tell she’s already ready to get things going again, but you stop her, pulling away like you had done before. You stand from the bed, watching that same look of disappointment come across her features.

“Don’t look at me like that, just wanna give you your birthday gift,” you say, walking around the bed to your nightstand. You grab the cake and place it carefully into your lap, grabbing the lighter again as she comes and sits beside you.

“I already blew out my candles, Danny,” she says, balancing her chin on your shoulder.

“You did, but I didn’t tell you that these are special candles. Not meant to be blown out,” you explain, flicking the lighter to life and igniting them both.

“Not meant to be blown out? Why–”

“Because they’re really an oil,” you say, putting the lighter down and grabbing the plastic tray under the cake again, holding it up between you. “These are candles specially made for us to let melt and drip onto each other. Not like regular wax, these don’t burn as hot. Once they start to melt a little, they turn into a body oil.”

“Like a massage oil?” she asks, and you nod.

“Mmhm, see, you can already smell the lavender and bergamot. They had birthday cake scented, but. I thought that might be overkill,” you smirk. Her eyes drift down to the candles with intrigue, and she bites her bottom lip in. “We don’t have to, if you don’t want to. But, I’ve heard good things…”

She picks up one of the candles from the cake, carefully licking the icing off the bottom. She holds her opposite hand out palm down, and lets the melty wax oil drip down onto the back of her hand, a few droplets of dark red liquid dripping down between her fingers.

“Doesn’t burn at all,” she says, reaching to grab the cake from you to set on the table again. She then takes your hand, letting the wax drip down onto your hand, too.

The sensation is more of an extremely warm electrical pulse than the burn you’d expect, and it quickly dulls as the oil cools. It doesn’t harden like normal wax, instead it just turns into a thick oil. You take your other finger and rub it across your skin, feeling the softness of the lotion-like liquid sink into your skin. “Wow, no, it feels good,” you agree.

“Lay back,” you suggest, and she does, handing the candle off to you.

You question the situation, not knowing exactly where to drip the oil to make her feel the best. You assume maybe her chest and stomach, maybe even down her legs, if she feels up to it. You hold the candle directly above her sternum, raising your eyebrows in final question before you let it drip.

“Yeah, go ahead,” she says, her hand landing on your knee.

The red liquid finally falls through the air, a singular drop that lands and splatters across her chest. Her mouth opens just a little, but then her surprise quickly turns into a devious smirk. “Feel good?” you ask.

“Aha, yeah, actually. It burns pretty bad for a split second but it goes away…shit, do more,” she pleads.

You go along with her request, drizzling tiny drops between her breasts and down her stomach, nearly completely coating her in the oily liquid.

“You sure you like it?” you ask as you watch her face repeatedly turn from a surprised grimace into a devilish look of satisfaction. Thankfully, that second look, you’re more than familiar with.

“Yessss…” she hisses as another drop falls onto her skin. “I feel so…” her mouth lies open as you continue letting the oil drip and pool, the floral scent filling your nostrils.

“So what?” you ask.

Her eyes bore into yours as she bites her lips between her teeth, her hand still gripping hard into your leg muscle. “I like the pain. It’s like… I don’t know how to explain it…” she breathes. “Like a sensation I don’t want to ever end.”

You take your free hand and gently massage it in, taking time to work over her nipples and stomach. “God, that feels so good…” she whispers, her hand now digging into the muscle of your thigh. You place the candle back on the cake, turning to pay special attention to rubbing your hands over her muscles.

The heady scent of the oils mixed with the residual alcohol still flowing through your system brings a whole new dizziness to the atmosphere, and you feel as though the whole situation is only becoming heavier. You reach over to your phone sitting on the night stand, and flip your music to some psychedelic playlist. The distorted guitar and scratchy bass sounds bring you both to a new plane, and you take the moment to recognize the woman you have your hands on, and how she feels underneath them.

Her eyes flutter open and closed as your hands drift, massaging the soft oils across the mountains and valleys of her body. “You want me to do you?” she asks, eyes flicking back to the candle.

You shake your head. “No, shh. It’s your birthday, just relax.”

She smiles a little as she gets comfortable again, moving her body a little closer to yours on the bed. Your hands travel up her shoulders and neck, slowly kneading the tense muscles. Then you move on to her hips and waist, squeezing at the thickness of her. You feel yourself getting turned on all over again just by touching her this way. You watch as her hands drift across the tops of her legs, gripping at her own thighs. The visual is almost too much, watching as her fingertips pull at her skin. You reach to grab the still-lit candle, adjusting your body to sit beside her legs.

“‘M gonna try your legs, that okay?” you ask.

“Yeah, go ahead…” she mumbles, her eyes still rolling around behind her eyelids. You move between her legs and let the wax drip onto her inner thighs, not really caring if any lands on your comforter. “Ffff…” she hisses, biting onto her bottom lip. Her face contorts from pain to pleasure as the oil cools, and you replace the candle, making your way back to massaging her.

Your hands nearly cover the entirety of her upper thighs, your fingertips digging into the skin just as hers had done a second ago. You push the oil all around, paying special attention to start at her knees, and slowly work your way up. You have half a mind to lick into her again, seeing it now from this view, but you stop yourself. Your thumbs rub into the creases where her legs meet her heat, and she practically moans out at your touch.

“You’re being such a fuckin’ tease, Daniel,” she says, her hands cupping her breasts.

“Mmm, I don’t think you understand how hard it is to stop myself right now…” you huff.

She bites her lips again and shakes her head side to side, obviously feeling the same emotions as you. This doesn’t feel like it normally does, and you feel more anxiety than ever to satisfy her. You watch as she reaches her hands for you, signaling for you to get things going.

“Don’t stop yourself then,” she stutters, her voice almost shuddering. Her hand grips into your hair again and pulls you up, your hands crawling up either side of her as her nails claw and pull at your back.

Suddenly your mind finds itself again as you remember to grab protection. You balance your forehead on her sternum, both of you already panting and sweaty as you pull yourself away to reach for your bedside drawer.

“No, just—it’s fine,” she says, grabbing onto your arm.

You meet her with a puzzled look, not quite understanding that she’s changing her mind on a whim. This is one part of your agreement that you both have always stuck to.

“What? I’m—“

“Just…it’s fine. Don’t get it,” she says, giving you a look that could kill. “It’s been six months…right…”

You think it over, rolling the thought over and over in your mind. “You sure?”

She nods, “Yeah, yeah I’m sure. I’m…we’re good. I promise.”

You feel your heart growing in your chest, feeling a new wave of anxiousness and…something else bubbling up. It’s almost blinding you to even think about what’s about to take place, this already feels so different than before.

The slick of the oil across your chests make your bodies slide against one another as you line yourself up, both hands on either side of her head. Her hands gently drift across your hips, a devilish smirk sneaking across her lips.

“Gonna feel you for real for the first time…” she says gently, looking more excited than you’d seen her in ages.

“Yeah, no pressure,” you answer, pressing yourself through her folds. The sensation alone is making you quake, feeling her against you without a barrier.

“What, you nervous or something?” She asks, digging her nails into your scalp.

You clench your jaw, feeling the tip enter her just a little bit. “Kinda.”

“Daniel…shut up. No you’re not.”

“I swear,” you reply, pressing in just a little more. “Different now, like this.” You feel your heart beating from your ribcage.

Her hands grip behind you, pulling you in towards her, but you hold back. “S’okay, just me… please…” Her legs lift and her ankles cross at your lower back.

You push forward, telling yourself it’s okay to fill her all the way to the hilt. It’s now or never, and you’ve waited so long for this, wanted her for real for so long. You make sure to watch her face as you bottom out, taking in every single detail that you can.

HER POV

It’s almost dreamlike…

The dim and comforting glow of the room, the sweet scented oil that’s relaxed your muscles, the dying feeling of excitement from the gift Danny had gotten you…

But mostly, the feeling of his body towering over you and buried as deeply as he can get, finally without the use of protection.

You’d been wanting Danny for real for longer than you’d like to admit, now, and now that it’s finally happening, it’s almost as if you couldn’t have dreamt it up any better. Of course he feels nervous…you do too. Something in the air has shifted, and it’s not just because you both had finally admitted to wanting more than your predisposed agreement.

“Fuck, Danny…” you can’t help but yelp in a pitiful high-pitched squeal. Feels just like you always thought, but somehow better.

Much, much better.

He begins to pick up a pace after you lock your ankles against him harder, forcing his hips to find a rhythm. “You good?” he asks, almost shyly.

“Yeah, better than good, shit…”

His left hand grips your jaw with a little force before he brings his lips to yours in a heated mess. His thrusts are working in perfect time, hitting you in just the right spot to tighten the knot deep inside you already.

“You feel so perfect baby…god, never thought I’d have you like this…” his lips are hot against your skin as he speaks, his teeth nipping at your sensitive spots every few seconds.

“Leave a mark, baby… gimmie a reminder…” you breathe into his ear, making the light nips on your chest switch into slightly painful lovebites that you’re positive you’ll be able to see turn into bright red marks tomorrow. He growls into your skin as his teeth sink in just enough to make you squirm beneath him.

Though the room is flickering with a tangerine glow, the multicolored vibrance of the light flashing behind your eyes brings a whole new depth to what you’re experiencing, an overwhelming feeling of unwarranted pleasure that is undoubtedly ripping you apart at the seams. He’s all you’ve ever wanted, better than anything you’ve ever felt, and he’s been living under the same roof as your best friend for way too long.

You can tell he’s getting closer by the tumbling of his thrusts, but you swear you never want it to end. The euphoria taking over your mind is making you dizzy.

Suddenly he slows down a little bit, rolling himself to the bed but keeping himself inside as he plucks you to straddle his lap. Your hands find his pecs as you begin swirling your hips, feeling him at a completely different angle, now. His curls are laid out behind him on the white blankets, and his chest is gleaming from the oils.

You begin bouncing on him, his hands gripping into the thick muscle of your thighs as you grind on him. His head leans back, his jaw moving between hanging open and clenching tightly. “Y/N, shit…I’m not gonna be…”

You can feel the twist in your stomach, the deep tightening letting you know that you are close, too. You lean down and press a slow and needing kiss to his lips, showing him all the emotion that’s currently coursing through your body in the act. “Me too baby, just do it. Want to feel you…” you stammer through the ravaging feeling of your impending orgasm. You squeeze him hard, sending you both over the edge, tumbling down together in a flustered mess of echoed praises for one another.

He stays buried inside you for just a few seconds as you both come down, neither of you wanting to be the first to speak when you finally catch your breath. After a minute of silence, you let yourself come out of the cloudy bliss, sliding yourself up and off of him.

As soon as your body hits the bed beside him, he’s craning over you again, gathering you up into his arms into the most loving embrace you’d felt from him yet.

“Every six months isn’t gonna work for me anymore, Y/N…” he admits, fully submitting himself with an honest look in his eye. “I just…”

“Me neither, Danny. It’s not enough. Won’t ever be enough,” you admit, taking his face in your hands. And it was true, after experiencing him tonight in the way that you did, there was no way you’d ever be able to wait for him again. There’s too much emotion involved that you’ve both been hiding for too long. Too much still yet to explore.

“Stay, please? And not just for tonight,” he whispers, his thumb gliding across your cheek.

You nod. You know there’s nothing on this earth you want more than to wake up every day next to him…the friend who has always been just a little bit more.

“Okay,” you concede, sliding your body into his.

“Okay? Yeah?” He asks with an excited lilt.

“Yes. I’m not going anywhere,” you respond. “Couldn’t leave you if I wanted to...”

The low chuckle that rumbles through his chest and onto your cheek pressed against it feels so longingly familiar that you wonder why you ever thought it wouldn’t work out to begin with. “What took you so long?” he asks, wrapping and squeezing you hard.

“Could ask you the same…” you laugh into his chest.

You fall asleep with him that night a different woman than the one you were when you walked into his room, and not just because you’re a year older, now. You’d finally gotten everything you’d ever wanted.

Danny nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, sleep already lacing his voice. A soft feeling of comfort washes over you as you realize how safe and protected you feel in his arms, and how you aren’t too shy to admit that this feels more right than you could have ever anticipated.

Now you won’t have to wait six months to share your love with him again. You’ll be able to share it with him tomorrow, over coffee in the kitchen.

He presses a sweet kiss to your temple as you let the heaviness of sleep overtake you, already falling into a dazed place of complete contentment.

“Happy birthday, baby.”

Taglist:

@wetkleenex-gvf @britney-gvf @gretas-sweat @josh-iamyour-mama @highway-tuna @bestfriendsallstrungout @jjwasneverhere @gretavanbrie @writingcold @thewritingbeforesunrise @myleftsock @edgingthedarkness @its-interesting-van-kleep @jjsooobsessed @ageofcj @starcatcher-jake @capnjaket @cozyjakey @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @stardustjake @dancingcarbon @builtbybrokenbells @gretavangroupie

295 notes · View notes

calibrationneeded · 2 months ago

Text

Sometimes I’m normal and other times I remember Dean’s canon daughter and how Sam never got hounded for killing her by the fanbase but Dean is still treated like mayor of cunt city for mistreating Jack. Obviously two wrongs don’t make a right and Dean was very much in the wrong for how he treated Jack, but the fact Sam is seen as better than him for it despite doing arguably the same thing rubs me the wrong way. And this isn’t so much a dig at Sam as a character but rather a commentary on how the fanbase kind of puts him on this weird pedestal.

He killed Emma. Sam made up his mind about Jack in the same amount of time he made up his mind about Emma, but chose to kill her and empathize with Jack. Dean didn’t have an obligation to Jack, he didn’t know him when they first met, but Sam had an obligation to both Dean and Emma as a brother and an uncle.

I know he acted to save Dean, however- as a sibling, I know that if I were to kill my hypothetical niece or nephew to save my sibling that they would hate me forever, and that is a fact that would alter my idea on how to approach the situation.

Often Dean is viewed as this huge piece of shit for his behavior towards Jack in the beginning, because “how dare he assume the antichrist and son of the guy who killed Cas would be not great” but meanwhile Sam gets off with not so much as a mention to the fact he killed a young girl because she was a monster.

Where are the lines drawn? What makes a monster a monster? Are they less of one when you see yourself in them? Or was Dean in the wrong because Jack became a more important character. Hell, maybe it all ties back to the fact that Supernatural seems to hate women, who knows.

#rant over #sorry guys #the glorification of Sam and shaming of Dean for almost the same issue pisses me off #because I feel like people think Sam is morally better because he went to college #and that’s some classist bullshit #Sam and Dean are equally fucked up education doesn’t make you a better person #and like I said this is more of an issue I have with fans than I do with sam #Sam pisses me off too from time to time but it’s more of a osmosis thing from dealing with the fans #the brain dead ass take that sam = good and smart and Dean = mean and stupid #okay now i'm done #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #Sam Winchester

60 notes · View notes

thealtoduck · 1 year ago

Text

Being a mutant and joining Xavier’s school…

X-Men x Male Reader

Warnings: Justin Timberlake shade…

Summary: You’re a mutant and you’re invited to attend Xavier’s School For Gifted Youngsters…

(A/n: I gave you Emma Frost’s powers because i’m lazy)

(A/n 2: Yet another unplanned fic… i’m so sorry)

(A/n 3: I was gonna write more but word limit…)

——

It all started in school, everything was normal.

You just heard the regular chatter of the students. Then suddenly you heard EVERYTHING, every thought of every single person in the school. You quickly went in to the men’s bathrooms, locking yourself in a stall.

Your head pulsated as if it was about to explode, you felt as if it were on fire. You didn’t understand what was happening. You curled up in a ball on the toilet trying to keep the voices out as tears streamed down your eyes. You have had similar headaches before but never like this.

After about half an hour the voices stopped, you were shaking and sweating, did you have some kind of fever. You got up from the toilet and left the stall. You went to a sink and cupped your hands and splashed some water on your face.

You readjusted your shirt that had gotten a bit messy. You looked in the mirror and noticed something strange, your left hand looked weird, it was glistening looking like some kind of glass. You quickly lifted your hand in front of your eyes… it looked normal.

You then made sure you looked decent before you left to go to the nurse’s office. You told her what had happened about your splitting headache and seeing weird stuff in the mirror. She took your temperature and looked you over, but everything seemed completely normal.

You were scared of the idea of having to go to class and getting another headache in front of everyone. Luckily for you, the school nurse was very nice and wanted to make sure you were okay, so she called your mom and asked if she could come pick you up.

You got in to your mom’s car and she looked at you worried. ”Hi sweetie, are you feeling okay?” she asked. ”Yeah at the moment at least” you said and explained. She was understanding and started driving the two of you home.

As she was driving you started hearing things again, your mom sat quiet, you looked around no people. Then they started growing louder and louder. ”Hey, let’s see what’s on the radio” your mom said pressing the radio button.

And like the flip of a switch, you felt a cutting pain in your head making you lean forwards and groan loudly. ”Oh, come on Y/n, Justin Timberlake isn’t THAT bad” you mom said. Slowly realisation crept up on her that it wasn’t about the pop star’s music playing.

She quickly pulled over the car trying to make sure you were okay. But she soon realised your pain wasn’t going away, so she immediately started driving towards the closest hospital. She also turned off Justin Timberlake, you might be in pain but you didn’t need to be tortured

Even at the hospital the doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with you, but they recommended you take some headache medicine and to get some bedrest over the weekend. You tried but the headaches came on and off, keeping you from falling asleep.

While trying to rest the doorbell rang, you walked towards the door and opened it. You were met with a bald man in a wheel chair and a woman with long red hair, you didn’t recognise either. ”Can i help you?” you asked.

The bald man spoke up and greeted ”Hi, my name is Professor Charles Xavier and this is Doctor Jean Grey, mind if we come in for a chat?”.

Oh god… you had become a medical spectacle you thought to yourself.

You let the two in and served tea for the three of you. ”So, why do you want to speak with me?” you asked. ”Well Mr L/n, have you ever heard of mutants?” Professor Xavier asked.

”You mean those guys on the news with those freaky powers that everyone are afraid off?” you questioned. Professor Xavier nodded with a smile and said ”That’s one way to describe them”.

”You’ve been experiencing painful headaches recently, right?” Doctor Jean Grey asked. ”Y-Yeah” you said unsure, had your parents already called in medical experts to examine you…

”We have reason to believe you are a mutant, who has recently developed the power of telepathy” the professor explained. You sat in silence a moment, only being able to then utter ”I… What?”.

”It’s a gift that will let you read and see inside the minds of others” the professor continued to explain. You stood up and found yourself saying ”You should both leave, you’ve found the wrong person… I-I… I’m not a mutant you must be looking for someon- ahh!”.

You were cut off in the middle of your sentence by another sudden headache making you fall to your knees, holding your aching head. The Professor rolled closer to you and put a hand on your head and suddenly the pain eased.

”What did you?…” you asked confused looking at the professor. ”I used my freaky mutant powers to mute your powers slightly, to make them more manageable” he explained with a small smile. ”Look at Jean” he told you and pointed at the doctor.

”Now try to look inside her mind to see what she’s thinking” he instructed. You did as told and looked at the red haired woman, then without her opening her mouth you heard her say ”Hello Y/n” making you stumble backwards.

”How did you? How did i?” you questioned in complete shock. ”How about you sit down and we can answer all of your questions” Professor Xavier suggested.

So turns out you were a mutant.

It scared you but you decided to gather your courage and tell your parents about it… not a good idea. They got terrified of the idea of their son being a mutant and told you to go to your room.

So once you got to your room you made the impulsive descision to run away from home. You were worried what your parents would do… would they call the cops? Is being a mutant a crime?… Professor Xavier had given you his number. So you grabbed your phone and called the number.

He picked up. ”Hello, this is Charles Xavier” he greeted. ”Hey, it’s Y/n, i’m calling about your offer… you really have room for another student?” you questioned. ”Of course, we do” the professor answered kindly.

You packed a suitcase and climbed out of the window, silently sneaking away from the house. You took a bus leading to new york where’d you’d be picked up. A car was waiting when you got off the bus, Doctor Jean Grey was standing by it.

You got in the car and she drove the two of you towards the school. ”Are you nervous?” she asked, you wondered if you looked that obvious or if her own telepathy gave her a hint. You nodded.

”Don’t be you’ll fit right in. We might be a school but we’re also like a family, we take care of each other” she assured you. ”What about my powers? What if i accidentally hurt someone?” you asked. ”We’re gonna make sure you learn to control them, the Professor has dampened your powers and we’ll unlock them little by little, it shouldn’t be an issue” she explained comfortingly.

The car the pulled up beside a fancy looking mansion. You couldn’t help but be awed seeing it. It looked almost magical. You got out and got your suitcase, Jean led you to the enterance. It was just as impressive on the inside.

She showed you your room which you would be sharing with another student named Peter Rasputin, who according to Jean could turn his skin in to steel.

She gave you a tour of the rest of manor, introduced you to some of the other students and then left you to explore and get settled in. As you made your way around you were greeted and welcomed by the other teachers of the school.

The other students looked curiously at you as you passed, probably wondering who you are and what your powers are.

That night you also got to meet your roomate Peter who Jean had told you about, he was tall, handsome and very muscular. He was also very kind as he greeted you. As the two of you got ready for bed he asked ”Considering we’re sharing space now, do you mind if i’m sleeping shirtless?”.

”No, i don’t mind, do you mind if i do?” you returned the question. He gave you a quick flirty look up and down before saying ”No”.

#x men x male reader #x men x male!reader #marvel x male reader #marvel x male!reader #male reader #x male reader #x male!reader

402 notes · View notes

seeingivy · 1 year ago

Text

lacy, oh lacy

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

content: oopsie. mentions of blood/injury. I think drinking is like briefly mentioned at one point.

an: ok. ok. the song line up in this one is so random i swear.

songs mentioned: peace by taylor swift, city of stars by ryan gosling and emma stone, promiscuous by nelly, lacy by olivia rodrigo

previous part linked here

You return home and stay there for an entire month, despite protests from Danny and Sareen. But anytime they try to push back, you remind them.

Your older brother split his head open because someone threw a brick through his window. Because of a situation they got you involved in.

Granted, they’re not fully to blame since you did agree to it, but Levi and Hange vehemently disagree. The two of them were very passionate about the fact that managers have a responsibility to protect their artists and the fact that Danny and Sareen even asked you to do something like this has them fuming. And by them, you mean Levi. He yelled at them on the phone after the pictures dropped.

Regardless, your contract with them won’t be over until the end of the year. The only way you can terminate is if you break the deal with the record company, but then you have to promise them majority royalties that you make with any other songs you release until the two years are up.

Which isn’t bad. You could just not write music for two years. But there’s some sense of loyalty, a need to maintain face so someone else does sign with you later on, you’ve proved you’ll be loyal. And that your records won’t suffer because of internal politics.

But for now, all you’re focused on is Colt and Falco.

Falco, who is quite literally a human cat (in the cute way, not the Catoru Gojo way), is currently nestled up in your lap and fast asleep. After two hours of playing Rocket League, which you actually suck at, and then another two hours of arguing about how stupid the game is (cars playing soccer???), he finally passed out.

Colt knocks, the scar along his hairline bright red, as he hands you a bowl of cereal and settles onto your bed with his laptop. Which he’s been doing often lately - lingering around in your room, never leaving you alone. Hovering.

He’s applying for summer internships, because apparently that’s a thing that normal people and not celebrities do. Not that you would know anything about that.

“Thanks Colt.”

He gives you a hum as he types away on his laptop, his jaw clenched in concentration. But all you can do is stare at that bright red line near his golden blonde hair and how angry it looks. There’s four sets of stitches in place, the area around the entire mark so pink and swollen. And he’s blinking too hard, eyes squinting at the laptop even though the brightness is all the way down. Meaning, his head is still hurting. You make a mental note to call the doctor again tomorrow.

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“Quit staring.”

“I’m not staring. And stop being so loud, Coco is sleeping.” you whisper.

“Were you born yesterday? He’d sleep through the apocalypse if he had to.”

You bring your hand down to Falco’s hair, soft under your touch, as he snores into your legs.

“Not lately. Y-yesterday, he came into my room crying in the middle of the night. Said he had a nightmare of glass shattering but it was just someone parking across the street.”

Colt looks over, his glasses resting against his nose, and gives Falco a worried look.

“He just- he was there when it happened, that’s all.” Colt murmurs, voice all quiet.

“You never told me what did happen.”

Colt closes the screen of his laptop and sets the computer in between you, as he readjusts on his side. His hand is now in Falco’s hair, making a mess of his already matted hair.

“I-I was sitting in your room.”

“Huh? Why?”

“I do that when I miss you. Just sit in here, with Chelsea and all these god awful posters you have.”

You smile, reaching forward to squeeze his hand which he rolls his eyes at.

“You’re cute. You miss me?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Okay, Jesus.”

“Falco came to sit with me too. Also, he totally ate chocolate on your bed and spilled some on the carpet.”

“Remind me to kill him when he wakes up. Is that what’s under that god awful rug you guys put in here?” you respond, grating your teeth.

He ignores the comment all together and keeps going.

“I kept getting a lot of texts from my classmates and stuff like that, like a few hours after. About the pictures of you and the rumors and all that. And I called you and Eren picked up and he told me about how you came to him, all bloody and cold. He told me that you were finally sleeping so he didn’t wake you. Said to call him back if I needed something.”

Sweet, sweet Eren.

“And then I heard it. This rustling, by the side doors. Now, I know that Sandra putting the trash cans back is really loud from your room, but it was Friday. Trash day is on Tuesday. So I peeked my head out the window to see what the noise was and that’s when they threw the brick. It went through the glass and hit me.”

You clench his hand, which he shakes his head at. He’s rubbing small circles into your skin as he keeps going, his voice so hollow it bothers you.

“I fell over. Started bleeding onto your carpet and Falco finally noticed. And, and he was holding my head trying to stop the bleeding. He figured it was the right thing to do after how much Grey’s Anatomy you’ve forced him to watch. Mom and Dad came in and I told them to call Eren and not you, because you were probably still asleep. Eren sent us a security detail super fast, he said it’s the one he’s been using since he was a kid so we can trust them. They got here in like twenty minutes and did the stitches on me.”

You look at him and he wraps his arms around you, Falco meshed in between the two of you. And you stay that way for a while, in each other's embrace, as the guilt sits with you. And when Colt falls asleep too, you reach for your notebook and scribble the lyrics down.

As long as danger is near And it's just around the corner, darling 'Cause it lives in me No, I could never give you peace

You slide out of their embrace, leaving the two of them tangled on your bed as you hike your knees to your chest and sit on the floor to write properly. And when you lift the rug on the ground out of curiosity and piece it all together - that they’re covering up the dark, brown mark of Colt’s blood on your carpet, you keep writing.

I’ll give you my sunshine, give you my best But the rain is always going to come if you’re standing with me Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

Your phone buzzes three times and you reach for it, sliding it open to read the notification.

eren: attachment, two images

eren: saw you earlier today. ur face card is insane.

You open up the picture, one of him and Lana in Los Angeles with a billboard of you in the back. You had seen them on Twitter, Spotify putting up big pictures of the Ribbons album cover, with Multi-Platinum in shiny letters right next to it.

The first picture is of Eren and Lana blowing kisses towards the billboard of you and the second is Eren choking Lana a few seconds after. The photos are live, so you hold down and watch Eren and Lana move in the picture, Eren’s laugh coming through.

you: please don’t choke my wife. she’s too hot to die young.

eren: i hate you guys. i really do.

you: are you jealous?

eren: you were mine first >:P

eren: how’s falco? he hasn’t responded to my text since yday :/

you: please stop texting my thirteen year old brother. you’re such a loser.

you: idk. he had a nightmare last night about what happened. i don’t think he’s taking it too well.

eren: it’s hard. he’s still so little. how’s colt?

you: his cut looks like it hurts and he keeps squinting at his computer still. i feel like he’s trying to put on a brave face for me or something.

eren: he’s older than you and he’s always taken care of you. he’s going to do that still, and you should just let him. how are you?

You pause.

You’re sick to your stomach. Because all you’ve been able to do is read what people say about you online. And what gets you, is that everyone thinks you’re so fake. And you think so hard, read so much into what they’re saying, that you almost start thinking it’s true.

Is the “I’m a small town Canadian girl an act?” You haven’t lived here in years. And you can’t say you’re not famous anymore - because you’ve literally broken records before, multiple times over. And you’re not really a fraud anymore, despite the fact that you still feel like one. You fake relationships, your friends don’t like you, and…and…..

You’re fake. Your mistakes are on display and some people think you deserve to die for it.

eren: where’d you go?

you: sorry. im trying my best to hold on. i was just writing a song.

eren: LEMME SEE.

you: no.

eren: LET ME SEE.

You take a picture of the lyrics, messily scribbled in your book and send him a picture. And then nearly a minute later, Eren’s name is flashing across your screen and he’s calling you. You quickly walk into Falco’s room and take a seat by his little balcony, sliding the call open.

“Hi Eren.”

“Oh, Y/N. Sweetheart.”

And at the sound of him calling you that, of him calling you sweetheart still, has tears burning down your face and tiny sobs leaving your mouth.

“If the rain is always going to come if I’m standing with you, I’ll just hold an umbrella.”

“Eren.”

“That’s how they feel about it too. Both of them. I know it’s different when it’s me because I understand, because we’re used to this, but they love you. You are enough for them, even if you come with this thing behind you. That you can’t control, mind you.”

“I know that, Eren. But I want them to have that, I want their lives to be peaceful and I want Falco to sleep through the night without waking up. I don’t want to give Colt to get hurt because of me-”

“Every time I call them, all I hear is them worried about you. That you’re going to pull away from them, because you’re scared of hurting them. And-and I told you how much it sucks when you’re on the other side of that. Granted, Zeke’s a sick fuck who did it to mess with me but…please don’t do that to Colt or Falco. You’re going to actually hurt them if you do that. Pull away.”

You pause, taking in Eren’s words. Eren and Zeke. Zeke got canceled and stopped talking to Eren all together. Insulted him, made fun of him, and didn’t say anything at all. And, and it hurt him so bad that when Eren told you, that he was crying.

No. You’re not doing that to Falco or to Colt. God forbid they feel like they’re unlovable because you can’t let them in.

“You-you’re right, Eren. Thanks. That-that actually helps.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I-I didn’t even realize. I forgot that this has happened to you. Are-are you okay? I know this type of thing can be triggering, I should have asked before.” you respond.

He’s quiet.

“Eren?”

“Yeah. It-it wasn’t easy.”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve-”

“No, no. I don’t mean like, it wasn’t easy and you shouldn’t have come to me. It was more…eye-opening I guess. It hadn’t happened in so long that I forgot about it. It was a harsh reality check when it was you of all people knocking on my door. I hate that I can’t protect you from these types of things.”

“I’m sorry, Eren. You-”

You pause. What do you say? What do you say to him when this is all he’s known? All he’ll ever know? And when you know all too well that there really is nothing he can do?

“You don’t have to say anything, Y/N. Knowing you’re here with me is enough.”

Fucking mind reader. You hate it when he does this.

“God. Quit reading my mind.”

“Can’t help it. I know you like the back of my hand. And I am saying that in earnest. This shit sucks, I’ve dealt with it forever. But you make things easy. Your presence is enough comfort, okay?”

There’s a beat on the phone call. He doesn’t speak and you don’t either. And you can feel your cheeks burning.

“Eren?”

“Hm?”

“Since when do you call my brothers?” you ask, sniffling.

“Ah, you know. Since it happened. But in all fairness, Falco calls me first most of the time.”

“How many times have you talked to him?”

“Like every day or every other day at least. Kid is so ridiculous.”

“Eren. You don’t even call me that much.”

“Do you want me to?”

“No, it’s not the same if I have to ask you to do it. And plus, your new best friend is probably going to get all mad at me.” you tease, trying not to laugh.

“Oh, don’t be like that, sweetheart. I’ll call you more, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t say yeah like that.”

“Like what?”

“God, Y/N. Quit flirting with me or I’m going to fall in love with you.”

Your heart does a somersault, a cartwheel, a back handspring, and everything in between. Eren throws blankets over your barbed wire and shamelessly flirts with you after like it’s nothing.

The song comes out in the middle of your preliminary press tour for Ten Things I Hate About You and instantly becomes a hot topic the interviewees focus on. You’ve been stuck working all day. You can’t even comment on whether or not the song is about you if you wanted to.

Historia released her latest single, for her new and upcoming album, called Lacy. And everyone thinks the song is about you, that it’s a response to dorothea. And when you get home from the warm lights nearly cooking you on the stage, you immediately run and pull up the video on your computer, Yuuta and Rika taking residence in your room while you do.

The music video is simple, a black and white video of Historia and Eren in a recording studio, singing the song. Eren’s nimble hands are plucking the strings of the guitar and Historia’s sweet, soft voice is carrying the vocals.

Ooh, I care, I care, I care Like perfume that you wear, I linger all the time Watching, hidden in plain sight And ooh, I try, I try, I try But it takes over my life, I see you everywhere The sweetest torture one could bear

You keep listening, focusing intently on how anyone could even connect the song to you. Granted, from what you’re gathering, the song is about someone Historia knows that she idolizes, focuses on so much that it makes her feel bad about herself. Like an obsession.

You are put into constant competition with each other, down to the time your records come out. People make it a point to comment on who would become a triple threat first - her or you - or pigeon hole the tiniest details into some big feud between the two of you. The only time your song leaves the #1 spot on the top of the charts is when Historia releases a new one, the only time her movie falls in popularity is because yours comes out.

But that doesn’t mean it’s about you.

Ooh, I care, I care, I care Like ribbons in your hair, my stomach's all in knots You got the one thing that I want Ooh, I try, I try, I try Try to rationalize, people are people But it's like you're made of angel dust

You freeze. That’s where the connection comes in. The ribbons in your hair. Not only is your record literally called Ribbons, but the entire tour, press, even the cover of the album is you with varying colors of ribbons in your hair.

If that’s true, then…Historia stopped talking to you because of it? Because people pit her against you one too many times and it makes her feel bad about herself? You reach for your phone.

you: eren.

eren: y/n. what can i do you for?

you: is lacy about me?

eren: just saw ur lip sync battle with sukuna. i’m inconsolable.

He’s changing the subject. Though, you were waiting for him to bring that up. Your final stop on the press tour before finishing and returning to filming was doing the infamous lip sync battle - with you and Sukuna against Yuuta and Rika. And in true Yuuta and Rika fashion, they did a super lovey dovey rendition of City of Stars, from La La Land. Which only made it funnier that you and Sukuna just sang Promiscuous and made it rain dollar bills on each other.

you: i’m sure your heart is very broken. but quit changing the subject.

eren: it is. i’ll never love again.

you: eren. answer the question. you know how much this entire hisu thing has bothered me.

eren: i’m sorry, sweetheart. you know i can’t talk about things historia told me in confidence, as much as i want to.

you: eren. are you seriously telling me that historia stopped being my friend because OTHER PEOPLE were comparing us? that’s so stupid.

eren: don’t pigeon hole the lyrics. you don’t even know if it’s about you. and even if it is, give historia some slack. this entire thing we do is complicated. and she’s always felt things so deeply.

you: you’re a traitor. you’re supposed to be on my side.

eren: sometimes being the devil's advocate is being on your side.

you: don’t quote me back to me. being annoying isn’t a good look on you.

You throw your phone back and replay the song. Four times, each time doing exactly what Eren told you not to do and pigeonholing the lyrics. But you keep going over it in your head. That if it really is about you, then the way you are, the success you have is so obsessive for Historia that it made her start hating herself. That she feels like she can’t compare, so much so, that she’d avoid you all together.

It stings. You were girls together.

The last time you talked to Historia was months ago, when you were still taking your month off and staying with Colt and Falco. And even that was an exception to her normal radio silence and the miles she put between you two.

The call came in the middle of the night, right after you made sure Falco and Colt were both asleep. What you were expecting was Eren - who was too overprotective and kept calling to check if you were okay. But instead, Historia’s name and the picture of the two of you - fast asleep on the couch on the Attack on Titan set - was flashing across the screen.

“Y/N?”

“Hisu? Is it really you.”

She awkwardly laughs.

“Yeah. Hi. I was just calling to check up on you. I would take time off to come see you like everyone else but I’m stuck on set.”

“No problem. I-I’m staying home anyways. With Coco and Colt.”

“That’s nice. I’m glad, you-you never were one to take a break.”

You pause.

“So. Um-”

“You’re okay, right? I-I saw the pictures. The entire thing is really shitty and I’m sorry it happened to you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. How are you?”

“I’m about to go on release my album in a few months. Then go on tour. ”

“Yeah, I’ve been watching all the press. You’re amazing, I-I’m really excited to listen, yeah? I’ve always been your number one fan.”

There’s a beat. She doesn’t respond right away and the silence sticks in your mind, even if it’s only for a few seconds.

“Thanks, Y/N. You’ve always been really sweet.”

“You too, yeah?”

“Listen. I have to go. But take it easy, yeah?”

“Okay. Bye Hisu.”

It’s static.

You reach for your phone and pull up the chat between you and her and text.

you: just listened to lacy, hisu. another hit, once again.

And after you can’t help but think about it. Are these the compliments that hit like bullets on skin? She never responds. You take that as a yes.

You stare at the screen, eyes focused on the texts. That have been bothering you for a few days. Five texts, all left unanswered by Eren.

Your novelty is wearing off. Eren’s done talking to you.

You’re making it up. You’re making it up and it’s only because you’re so used to his quick witted responses that it’s bothering you. That he hasn’t responded yet. You read them over again, double, triple checking what you said.

you: saw this ugly toad ceramic at the store. reminded me of you.

you: i’ll buy it for you.

you: i think jean is going to propose to mika. and i know they’ve literally been together since we were fifteen but we are ONLY TWENTY TWO.

you: it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other!!!

you: armin and i were thinking of coming down for your birthday! meet all ur lil set friends and see connie again and stuff :’)

It sits with you in a weird way. Because you know that he responded to Armin an hour ago, about his birthday. And said that it was best that you both didn’t come just because of how busy it was, that he’d probably only get to spend an hour with you guys.

Armin is insistent on going anyway. And you just miss Eren. Sukuna pads into the room and finds you like this, with your phone flat on your bed and the way you’re leaning over the covers and staring intently at it.

“Just climb in, why don’t you?” he mutters, falling flat on your bed.

“Hello to you too. Why are you in my trailer?”

“Bored. Lonely. Horny. Take your pick.”

You roll your eyes and side shuffle to make room for him, his stupid musky smell enveloping the air. What you were expecting to be an unpleasant co-star was anything but, because you and Sukuna have slowly been sweeping hearts.

From the way you guys argue during press, how Sukuna shamelessly flirts with you, to your shared need to fight with each other - you’re quickly ramping up the popularity around the rom-com you aren’t even done filming.

“So. What the fuck are you staring at?”

“Nothing.”

“Talk.” he says sternly, lifting his hand to knock on your head.

Absolute caveman.

“Can I ask you a weird question?”

“Sure.”

“How are you so blunt?”

He turns over, a look of confusion spread on his face. You follow suit and turn over too, eyes focused on the tattoos that litter his skin. All the way around his neck and his arms and on instinct, you nervously reach for your own.

“Are you tired of being a pushover, Y/N?”

“What? I’m not a pushover, I’m just-”

You stop. Maybe not the word you would use, people pleaser seems more like the explanation for it. Maybe if you cared less about Eren, about what he thought of you, it would be easier. Maybe if you wanted him less it would be easier to be his friend.

“I’m going to tell you something and you can’t repeat it to anyone, doll. I’m trusting you here, okay?”

“Okay. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“I learned quickly that you can’t let anyone have a pull on you. Because when you do, you’ll do anything. Believe anything. And it’ll be your downfall if you let it.”

You take in his words. And he doesn’t talk for a while, eyes focused on the brown ceiling of your trailer.

“I went a long time without doing what I felt was right. What people were pulling me to do this and that, what I had to do. And when I reached a certain point, I didn’t even know who I was anymore. Hundreds, thousands of people loved me and I didn’t even know who I was looking at in the mirror.” he says.

“Well, I hardly doubt it was thousands, Sukuna. You’re quite irritating.”

He brings his hand down on your face, laughing. His face is uncharacteristically soft and he resembles Yuuji too much. Granted, they are fucking twins but the expression - it’s one you’ve only seen reflected on his face and never Sukuna’s.

“You’re tolerable when you’re like this, Y/N. You’re always such a pain in the fucking ass.”

“You’re normal like this. It’s nice. You should do it more often.”

There’s a beat. And he’s thinking.

“Being blunt is the only way I’m sure. That I’m being myself, because that’s what’s coming to mind. And in a place where almost everyone is lying, trying to pit everyone else against each other and bring them down for entertainment, honesty is the only way I make it out.”

You nod, sinking in his words. Thinking back to Sukuna, when you met him. When he was on again and off again with Hyla, how he said that he would just get pulled so deeply into things that he didn’t even realize what was going on till he was out of it. That it was blinding.

“So what was bothering you?”

“Ah. You know, the whole Historia thing.”

He laughs.

“Lacy, oh lacy. Skin like puff pastry.”

You snort.

“I can’t even tell if that’s a compliment or not. Aren’t puff pastries really dry and crumbly?”

“I think she meant to say pasty. Like a ghost.” he responds.

“I don’t know, Sukuna. I guess I feel bad. That we’re always in competition and that it seems like my mere existence just makes it hard for her.”

“Y/N.”

“Hm?”

“You know what Historia does when she puts you on a pedestal?”

“What?”

“Gives herself no room to stand next to you. And leaves you up there alone.” he says, the tone in his voice definitive.

You pause.

“When the fuck did you become so wise?”

“Beauty and brains, Y/N. There isn’t a thing I can’t do.” he responds, giving you a stupid smirk.

The pictures drop on Twitter three weeks later, on your last week of filming, and give you a bittersweet reaction. The first one, when you see it, makes your heart drop. Maybe even break a little.

Eren and Hyla, all curled up on a yacht kissing each other. Eren looks great, phenomenal even, and people make no point to keep that information to themselves. He’s getting more and more fit as time goes on, the stupid sunglasses he’s wearing, and his hair long again - people are going feral for Eren Jaeger. And Hyla is Hyla - gorgeous, brilliant, and beautiful.

Granted, this entire feeling is on you for making the assumption. That Eren taking care of you after the Ricky thing, that you guys constantly text again like you used to, is any inclination that he likes you. Especially when he started slipping away.

It’s simple. Eren’s your best friend. Nothing more, nothing less. You dropped the ball and let him go and now he’s someone else’s.

You’re fish together because you’re friends, because you get each other. And that alone is a testament to your relationship. That it can’t be replaced.

But it doesn’t make it sting any less. Especially when he gives you no warning beforehand.

But in a nice, karmic way, the second picture makes it all better. It’s Eren throwing up over the side of the boat. Right after kissing Hyla.

Eren and his sensitive stomach save the day. He’s trending for both how great he looks and for how ridiculous it is that he literally vomited after kissing his girlfriend.

“Sukuna. Come here.”

“Hm? What do you want?”

“Let’s send him a picture.” you say, pointing at the pictures.

Sukuna, in true Sukuna fashion, has printed out both pictures and framed them for the trailer.

For Sukuna, the entire ordeal is priceless. Because Eren and Hyla being together is funny, but Hyla being so atrocious that Eren throws up after they kiss is even funnier. He’s already tweeted so much about it that everyone’s dying over Sukuna and how petty he is. Truly, the only person who could get away with this.

You debate addressing the elephant in the room with Eren. Granted, calling a model like Hyla an elephant is almost ironic but, you digress.

If it was a big deal, he would give you a warning. So you shouldn't. But maybe you should tell him you don't care and that it's okay that he's with her.

What are you saying? He doesn't need your permission. Ignore, ignore, ignore.

You put the frame against the mirror, making sure Eren can see you and Sukuna laughing in the reflection as you take a picture of the frame. And the fact that Sukuna’s not wearing a shirt, that he’s leaning all over you, should trigger some type of reaction. Or you at least hope it will.

“Give him hell, doll. Stupid prick.” he says, shuffling away back to the other side of his trailer.

You give him a smile as you slide open your phone, sending him the picture. And then you follow and plop onto Sukuna’s bed, which has him nearly trying to cut off your circulation by smothering a pillow in your face.

A gentleman.

you: eren jaeger, the man that you are

eren: FUCKING STOP. JEAN IS ALREADY DOGGING ME ON TWITTER.

you: an instant classic. you are never living this down, my friend.

you: the fact that connie has said nothing yet is almost concerning. this has him written all over it.

eren: tell sukuna i will kill him. he’s got his dirty paws ALL OVER YOU TOO

you: possessive much?

eren: i am a simple man. and you two together has been a sore spot for me since i was sixteen. there’s only so much i can stomach.

you: protect your peace, king. this movie is not going to be easy for you.

eren: WHY?????

you: has a lot of smooching. and you KNOW sukuna gets carried away.

eren: blocked. I hate you.

eren: never talk to me again. i refuse to come to the premiere.

you: hehe.

eren: do NOT hehe me. im going to cry myself to sleep. do you relish in my pain?

you: a little bit. sweet dreams!!!

eren disliked a message.

Sukuna leans over and reads the messages as Yuuji and Rika walk in, with Yuuta and Annie in tow. You give them all a smile as they fall onto the bed with you two, stuck in their own conversations. Annie and Rika are talking about Rika’s birthday that’s coming up and Yuuji’s too busy trying to swipe Annie’s phone, for god knows what reason.

“This is insane. He’s all but fucking another girl on a yacht but talking to you like this? After ignoring you too?” Sukuna mutters, glaring at you.

“It’s not like that. We-we’re just friends. And it’s funny to joke about it.”

“You’re just friends. Yeah, and I’m the Thirteenth Disciple of Jesus, Y/N.” he responds, bitingly sarcastic.

“You and Judas would get along.” you respond.

“You’re being stupid. I’m not buying you ice cream when you come to me crying when he stops texting you.”

“You would. Begrudgingly, probably while hurling a bunch of insults at me, but you would.”

He reaches forward and flicks your forehead. A telltale sign that even he knows he would, because he isn’t rejecting the notion. Yuuta scoots over and flicks Sukuna’s hand off, giving you a smile.

“What are you arguing about over here?” he asks, giving you a warm smile.

“Eren.”

“Oh, I just saw the pictures. Poor guy.” Yuuta says, an awkward hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yuuta. Got a question.” you say, propping up on your elbows.

You explain the whole situation to Yuuta. That you and Eren dated. And then you didn’t. And then he saved you from Ricky, that you guys were texting again, but he’s dating Hyla now, full on and out in the open. And then let him read the texts and ask him.

“Now tell me, Yuu. Who is in the wrong?”

“Sukuna.”

You give Yuuta a glimmering smile as Sukuna rolls his eyes, reaching forward to headbutt both of you down into the mattress. You both protest and smack him off, giving him the finger.

“The only person on this Earth who is more goo goo ga ga and down horrendous than you is Yuuta. You picked a biased person to intervene.” he says, seething.

“Did not. I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, quit playing dumb, doll. Yuuta and Maki are worse than you and Eren. Break up, make up, argue loud as fuck in the middle of the street, just to be kissing in the park the next day.”

“You just don’t get it. You can’t relate to the situation, Sukuna. Sometimes you just can’t stay away. Have you ever been in love?”

“Every time I look at you, doll.”

“Ugh. You’re disgusting.”

“You love it.”

The bell rings outside the trailer, signaling the call time for set, and Sukuna makes it a point to give you his warning.

“You’re treading on thin ice, doll. And when you fall, it’s going to be no one’s fault but your own.”

“For someone who claims he’s not a disciple of Jesus, you sure like to act self righteous as fuck all the time.” you respond, pushing him into the food cart near the directors chair.

Sukuna rolls his eyes as he drags you by the arm to your chairs, propped up, as you watch Yuuta and Rika take their marks, with Annie and Yuuji in the back. Sukuna’s glaring at you, bloody murder, unable to drop what he’s talking about.

“Look. Even for normal people, it’s never a good sign to be friends with your exes. And I bet he’s already being suspicious as fuck, despite the fact that he puts this whole goofy best friend persona on and flirts with you once in a while.”

“He does not. He-he’s not like that, all calculated and manipulative. You know him, he’s like a walking cheeseball.”

“He was a walking cheese ball. But at some point, you become the people you surround yourself with.”

“Okay, Sukuna. I fucking hate it when you’re all cryptic as fuck. You go on and on about how fucked up the people Eren’s around are. But you never once say what they actually do.”

He frowns, glaring at you.

“Why do you think Connie and Eren are fighting?”

You pause, thrown off by the question.

“Connie and Eren aren’t fighting. They’re like best friends. Connie’s even going to be in his next movie, Sukuna.”

“You said it yourself. It’s weird that Connie hasn’t commented on Eren’s whole vomit-gate moment. They’re filming a movie together, but they haven’t taken any pictures. And I can bet you ten bucks that Eren hasn’t said shit about him being there.”

You don’t respond. Because he’s right. Eren hasn’t said anything about being there. And Connie hasn’t even talked to you in weeks.

“It bothers you, doesn’t it? That he’s pulling away?”

“Eren isn’t pulling away, Sukuna. He just has a girlfriend, it’s obviously not going to be the same between us as before.”

“Bullshit. You know he’s pulling away. What does he do? Forget to text back once in a while but then flirt to make it better? Tell you you’re pretty when pictures of him and Hyla drop? You’re ignoring every gut feeling you have about him because you want to keep him around.”

“Fuck you, Sukuna.” you respond, warm tears filling your eyes.

This is what you hate about Sukuna. His persistent need to point out things you so blatantly choose to ignore. That he pokes holes in what you and Eren have, valid holes that bother you at night, that only validate what you think is true.

You need Eren more than he needs you. You like Eren more than he likes you. And he’s going to leave you far behind, at the end of all of this.

Sukuna reaches forward, fingers swiping the tears off your cheeks as he rolls his eyes.

“Stop fucking crying.”

“You’re so rude.”

“I’m not rude. You’re just a bitch.”

You smack his face out of your space.

“When you’re ready for it, I’m here to help you. There’s nothing I do better than revenge, doll.”

You scoff.

“Save your unadulterated rage for the camera. And don’t get too excited when I lean in to kiss you.” he responds, tucking your hair behind your ear and giving you a wink as he slides over to his mark.

You’re going to kill him.

Six weeks of freedom from Sukuna and you’re hiding in the bushes with Armin, Annie, Connie, Sasha, and Marco next to you. Hands locked together as you watch Jean and Mikasa in the distance. And you make your best efforts not to cry, to not fully sob at the second time you’ve been able to witness a love so warm.

It’s all so soft. So warm, so sweet, so much like Levi and Hange’s vow renewal that it makes your heart swell, to the biggest of shapes, for the two of them.

Mikasa is getting engaged. Engaged to Jean, who has always been so sure of her. So quick to run to her defense, to love her like it’s his second nature. They’re going to be together, by each other's side, drunk at award shows and holding hands in taxis for the rest of their lives.

Mikasa is wearing a white dress, soft and willowy, with her low cut Doc Martens. You convinced her that you just wanted to take her out for brunch, drive by the ocean a little bit before you leave town again. Because Jean had approached you, all squirrel like and antsy, and showed you the beautifully ornate ring he had gotten her and asked you to help her.

And Jean. Sweet Jean, he’s fumbling with the box in the pocket as he talks to her. You can’t hear what they’re saying, but you can quickly tell that Mikasa is comforting Jean. That he’s stumbling over his words, his feelings, but she’s standing there and holding his hand. Walking him through them.

And then Jean’s on one knee. Smiling up at her so hard he’s squinting, soft tears falling out of his eyes and her surprised expression. And she brings her hand up to her chest, right over her heart and falls to her knees to meet him, the two of them hugging each other so hard that it makes your chest squelch.

“Crybaby.” Marco mutters, reaching over to swipe your tears.

“Shut up.”

You look back at them, at Jean and Mikasa lying down in the grass tangled in each other's arms, and can’t wait any longer. The five of you - Marco, Annie, Armin, Sasha, and you - run up and pile on, the six of you crying in each other's arms, pink faces. Armin snaps a polaroid picture of Jean and Mikasa - her hands wrapped around his face and the softest look on his face when he smiles back at her. And then one of you and Marco crying, holding each other for good measure.

You reach for Mikasa’s hands the second Jean finally lets her go to hug Armin and Marco and your eyes are positively burning.

“Oh, Mika. I’m so, so happy for you.”

She’s crying. Her cheeks are pink, her eyes are red, and she has the full marks of love on her face. The softest kind of love.

“Thank you, Y/N. You-you’re a treasure. I love you. Thank you for not letting me wear that ugly green dress earlier.”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around her, and press a kiss to the side of her face.

Your heart aches. For green eyes, brown hair, and a soft smirk that no one else gets to see. For snarky comments, for shameless flirting, for every hurt feeling in your chest being smoothed over like it was nothing.

Jean and Mikasa make you long, long so ruefully for this feeling. The way they look at each other, the way he keeps tissues in all his pockets because she gets sniffly outside, how Mikasa is the only person who can handle him. The feeling you used to have.

You’ve decided then and there. You’re going to get him back. And luckily for you, you’re flying to Seattle and in nine hours you’ll be there with him. On his birthday, with all this love you’re going to share again.

You’re fish together. You’re not swimming forward without him.

“Hey. Where’s Con? We should get ready to leave soon.” Armin asks, pointing at his watch.

You look around at the crowd of you, Marco holding Mikasa’s hand in his as he admires the ring and gives Jean a smile.

Where is Connie?

You shrug as you tell Armin to stay, to keep taking pictures of the two of them, as you march around the garden, looking around for him. And you find him, knees hiked to his chest, crouched over with red eyes and a pink nose. You immediately reach for him and place your hand on his shoulder, which he immediately flinches at and then releases.

“Connie?” you ask, caught off guard.

He relaxes when he realizes it’s just you and aggressively wipes the back of his hand against his nose and smiles.

“Hey. My bad, they just got me too emotional in there. Fucking saps they are, I just love them so much.”

“Okay. Con, are you okay? You-you don’t look so good.”

He smiles again and it doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s sweating and…green. He places his hands against your cheeks and squeezes, his voice soft when he talks.

“Always the type to worry, aren't you? I promise I’m fine, Y/N. Help me finish packing because I actually didn’t start.”

“Huh? We leave in like an hour.”

“Exactly why I need your help!”

He stands up and pulls you along with him, your arms linked together, as you recruit Armin and Marco to help you pack. And you ignore the feeling, as you climb on the plane, nestled in between Armin and Connie, and focus on the important thing.

Brown hair, green eyes, and the soft smile.

You’re getting him back.

next part linked here

an, again: guess who is getting blocked on his birthday. eren no middle name jaeger.

taglist:

@k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @squirrelspoetry @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp. @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636

372 notes · View notes