#I’ll probably put this on ao3 in a few days

[grainscharacter]

read on ao3

There are a few things that Grian has been… too preoccupied to think about, with all of his worries about making the desert defendable, but not hazardous (because surely either he or Scar will forget about any traps he sets, and trigger them, and he is only green, technically).

His to-do list is long enough that, if he were to put it to paper, it would probably fill up a whole book. So it’s understandable that something has to fall to the wayside.

It’s not bad—really, it’s not!—it’s just slightly annoying, when he’s building and his hair falls into his face, or when he’s making his way through a forest and it gets caught in a stray branch, but it’s nothing terribly inconvenient.

It’s just—in the desert, he hasn’t really have the time to cut it, and now it’s getting long enough to be truly dangerous if he were to get in a fight, and he never learned to style long hair.

He can put it up in a messy ponytail, but it always comes out quicker than he’d prefer. So. What’s even the point?

He’s weighing the merits of chopping it all off, dagger in hand, when Scar comes into the fortress and gasps.

“Grian!”

He pauses.

“Don’t cut off your hair, Grian! It’s just too pretty, and I never get to see your hair all grown out and long like this!”

Grian lowers the dagger away from his hair, but doesn’t put it down, “It’s too long. There’s no point in keeping it if it's just going to get in my way.”

“It won’t get in your way! And, really,” and here Scar puts his merchant voice on,“if you think about it, all cutting it is gonna achieve is make it awkward in a week or so when it’s too long to do anything with.”

Grian tilts his head and shrugs. He already can’t do anything with it; he doesn’t know how to. He likes the feel of his hair long like this, but it really, really is not worth it. “I guess.”

“Oh!” Scar says, “I get it! You don’t want to do your hair! Well don’t you worry, Mr G-Man, I have got that 100% covered! Scar’s hair services, coming right up!”

“I—Scar, no!”

“What?” and now he sounds sad.

“I just. I don’t know how, Scar. It’s not worth it.”

“Awh, come on, I’ll do it for you!” and then, as if worried Grian won’t let him, Scar says, “I’ll even teach you! Easy and simple!”

“Alright, alright,” Grian relents.

Scar beams, and gestures for him to go sit on the bed. Grian goes, and sits with his back to scar as he bustles around looking for… something, Grian’s sure.

He feels Scar’s presence behind him right before he speaks, “Well, G, we’ve gotta start with brushing all of your tangles out, which, mister, I’ve only seen you do a few times. Really, it’s easier if you do it more often.”

Grian hums as Scar drags the brush lightly through his hair. It pulls some, and is a little painful, but Scar seems to be doing something to make it hurt less than when Grian does it, so it’s not even unpleasant.

They sit in a comfortable silence, broken only by the sound of the brush, before Grian fees Scar’s hands in his hair again.

“Okay. We’re not going to do anything fancy here—you need to be able to do it by yourself, and you haven’t ever braided your hair before—which is a shame, because you would look uh-mayyyy-zing with those wonderful elven braids I used to have.”

Grian can feel him… parting? his hair. He thinks that’s correct. He does know the basics of how a braid works, at least.

“Okay. We’re gonna take three even strands of hair—just separate it all out, for the simplest braid—and layer them over each other. You’ve done this before, for rope. It’s just like that, only you do it more by feel than sight.”

Grian hums again.

“Here, you try.”

He reaches back and finds the strands of hair, then tries to clumsily weave them together. He doesn’t do well, but he’s not doing terribly, so there’s that.

“Yeah! Like that!” Scar says, and then, “But I wanna do a Dutch braid, which is a tiny bit more complicated, on you today. That way you can probably leave it in for a few days, if you’re careful with it.”

Well, okay. That’s fine. Scar’s hands in his hair have a calming effect, so Grian doesn’t even feel a little bit bad about nodding and settling back into the bed with his hands in front of him.

Scar keeps up a gentle narration as he unbraids the part of Grian’s hair they had braided together, and then as he separates Grian’s hair out again. Grian’s not listening at all, and, as Scar establishes a rhythm, he can’t keep his eyes from slipping shut, for a moment.

It’s nice. Scar’s hands in his hair are gentle and warm, and he’s pulling at it softly, at a steady rhythm, and gradually, Grian finds he isn’t at all worried about his long to-do list, or about thinking up any fun traps.

Scar’s voice gradually gets quieter as he goes on, but he never stops talking entirely. Not until, an indeterminate amount of time later, he ties a ribbon at the end of the braid he’s made and tells Grian he’s done.

Grian hums back sleepily, but he doesn’t make any move to get up. He does the opposite; now that his head doesn’t need to be accessible he can slump back against Scar’s chest, which makes Scar laugh.

“Yeah?” He says.

“Yeah,” Grian says back, and doesn’t feel even a little bit stressed as Scar gently moves his head to the side to settle into the bed himself and runs his fingers over the braid he just made.

“It suits you.”

“Mm?”

“Long hair. The braid. It suits you.”

“Oh,” Grian says, sleepily, and then turns over with his head in Scar’s lap, “Of course it does. You made it.”

[theorangerangers]

Karone for the Treat trick or treat Ranger writing? So I'm not alone in putting out new Karone stuff? *eyes fic I haven't updated in weeks that I will DEFINITELY get to, once I've actually stopped and discussed some things with my therapist*

Look I got a little carried away but this also isn’t proof read and was also written while I was watched Scooby-Doo with my roommates so it might be a bit weird at certain parts

“Yes, well everyone can dress up but just kids go trick or treating which is the candy collecting part. And it’s not really extortion; most families do something to make it clear whether or not they want kids to come and knock on their door, and kids for the most part respect it” Cassie explained.

“And those who don’t tend to throw eggs at the houses that don’t give candy,” Ashley said.

Karone cocked an eyebrow not quite sure how collecting candy under threat of vandalism was much better.

“So we can’t get candy?” Zhane pouted.

“Well we can probably get some at the party since most people have bowls just out during most of the Halloween parties I’ve been to if no one’s planning to be trick or treating,” Ashley said.

“Sweet,” Zhane joked.

Karone put on the jacket looking at the odd outfit Cassie had assembled for her. “And what monster exactly am I supposed to be?”

“Oh you’re not a monster, you, me, TJ, and Justin technically have matching costumes we’re superheroes from that show Justin likes we’re going to take some pictures with Justin and then you and me are going to the party and TJ is taking Justin trick or treating, until 10 and then drop him off at home and meet up with us for the after party”

“This outfit doesn’t seem practical for fighting crime,” Karone said, eyeing her heels and fishnets.

“Trust me, there’s a lot worse outfits and Black canary’s a pretty cool hero,” Ashley said, adjusting her petticoat before letting the rest of the layers for her bell dress fall into place.

“And why aren’t you in this outfit instead? You’re the one who actually was on a team with Justin?” Karone asked checking herself out in the outfit.

“I’m not blonde and black canary’s blonde,” Ashley explained.

“Zhane’s blonde,” Karone pointed out.

“Yeah but we’re matching as Bell and Adam from the beauty and the beast,” Ashley said, sticking another patch of fake fur to Zhane’s face. Ashley hesitated for a moment, “Besides we’re trying to get him to warm up to you since he didn’t see you a lot outside of the whole Princess Astronema thing,” not mentioning the moment Justin found out he called Tommy and Kat about 20 times each as the best judges he could come up with for actually being reformed and evil doer faking it.

“I scare him don’t I?” Karone asked.

“No…” Cassie said, looking at Ashley for backup.

“It does make him kind of nervous to have a former enemy living under the same roof as us. But he was a ranger. He's as brave as any of us, probably braver considering how young he was at the time.” Ashley continued.

“It’s a show of good faith, you’re willing to look a bit silly and have some pictures taken with him dressed as a member of the Arrow Fam without overstepping anything like having you go with him trick or treating,” Cassie said.

“Does he know I’m only going to be taking pictures or does he think I’m coming with him and TJ?” Karone asked.

“I think so, why?” Ashley asked.

“He seemed oddly excited this morning just to be taking some pictures together,”

“Well Halloween only comes once a year,” Cassie says.

“Hm…” Karone hummed.

Cassie pulled on her mask to see her Thea Queen costume had come together quite well. “Come on the sooner we take the pictures the sooner we can head out,”

—

A green blur slammed into Cassie, Karone was prepared to draw a weapon before she realized it was Justin who was hugging Cassie.

“Hey Justin, long time no see,” Cassie said, hugging him back. She noted he was dressed head to toe in green with a fake bow on his back.

“Yeah! Are you and karone excited to come to Trick or treating me and TJ? We’re going to visit every single house in town!” Justin was practically shaking from excitement.

Cassie hesitated looking uncomfortably at Karone, not sure how to break the news “oh Justin…”

“I would be honored to help you in your goal, but I think Cassie had other plans after we took the photos,” karone said.

“Oh, alright,” Justin said, trying to hide his disappointment. “I thought that, never mind…”

TJ cut in “if you want to go with Cassie—“

“I’m going to stay with Justin, if you want to go with Justin I don’t mind,” Karone told TJ firmly.

“I did say I was going to take him,” everyone could hear the hesitation in his voice.

“TJ, if you don’t want to take me, it’s fine.” Justin said now looking at his feet. “All of you can go now if you want, I’m fine really, I’m old enough to trick or treat by myself,”

“Justin…” TJ started not sure how to defuse the situation. If he was totally honest he would have preferred to go to the party.

“You can go TJ!” Justin said, walking away from the table in the juice bar. He walked out the door and sat on a bench outside.

Justin felt a hand on his shoulder. “TJ of you don’t want to take me—“

“I’m not TJ,” Karone cut him off.

“Oh, sorry about that, you didn’t agree to come yourself Cassie just said she was bringing you with her and I thought that she was coming with me,” Justin half heartedly explained.

“No, but I do want to come, if you’ll have me,” she hesitates before sitting down next to him trying not to do anything that could be taken as a threat.

“I’m not scared of you by the way,” Justin says.

“Yeah seeing you in person I can see that,” Karone said, trying to hide her own relief at this.

“I heard you didn’t get to be a kid much while you were busy being evil or whatever they did to you while you were working for the dark specter, I thought you might like, this, Halloween, hanging out, dressing up kinda silly like comic book characters,” the boy shrugged.

Karone had a lot of practice not crying while in pain but almost none at holding in tears in the face of whatever emotion she couldn’t name bubbling up inside right now. She quickly blinked her eyes, doing her best to prevent any moisture in her eyes from making itself known. “That’s very sweet Justin. But what about yourself?”

“What about me?”

“What did you want?” Karone asked.

“I guess I just wanted to be with my teammates again, I don’t really fit in with kids my age or kids in general. They all seem so happy and carefree and then after everything I saw as a ranger, I guess, I’m just not…,”

“Not what?”

“I don’t really feel like I’m a kid anymore, I know physically I still am but it doesn’t feel like it,”

“I know that feeling,” Karone said, nodding. “I know what it feels like when one moment you were a kid and the next you’re not a kid anymore but you’re not really an adult or anything else anymore either,”

“I wanted you and me to have a happy Halloween Karone,” Justin said. “I’m really sorry for bringing the mood down like this,”

Karone wrapped an arm around him and pulled him into a side hug. “I don’t mind, besides I thought you wanted to see every house in town?”

“You don’t have to come come if you don’t want to,”

“Justin, you don’t deserve your teammates and other fellow rangers leaving you behind like this,”

“I know, but it’s happening anyway. You didn’t deserve the stuff they did to make you evil either,”

“I know but it happened anyway, so let’s go trick or treating, and take some pictures in our costumes, eat some candy, and have a happy Halloween?”

Justin returns her side hug. “Yeah let’s have a happy Halloween,”

[steveseddie]

boy wonder

steddie | rating: t | wc: 999 | cw: none | tags: pre-relationship, steve and eddie recovering at the hospital together, eddie just had surgery, he’s a little high, fluff

for @steddie-spooktober day fourteen, prompt “bats”

read on ao3

“Do you think I’ll turn into Batman?”

Steve looks up from the magazine he’s been skimming through to find Eddie peering at him from his hospital bed. 

The sight of him covered in bandages and hooked to IVs and monitors still sends a shiver down Steve’s spine. But as the days go by and Eddie keeps getting better— looking better, less and less like he’s on the brink of death— it gets easier for Steve to handle it.

He’s surprised that Eddie woke up so soon after his surgery. The doctor said it’d be a while before the drugs wore off so Steve prepared himself to sit here for hours waiting for Eddie to wake up, just like he did after his first and then his second surgery. 

But it’s been less than two hours since they rolled him back into his room and Eddie is already up, eyes half-lidded and words slightly slurred and nonsensical, but awake and alert— and waiting for Steve to reply.

“Um, come again?”

“Do you think I’ll turn into Batman?” Eddie repeats, head lolling to the side to blink at Steve. “You know, ’cause I got bit by bats.”

Normally, Steve wouldn’t argue about superheroes with a nerd like Eddie, but he’s read a few Batman comics in his life and even he knows that’s not right. 

“I’m pretty sure Batman didn’t get bit by bats, Eddie,” he says with an amused chuckle. 

“No, but Spiderman got bit by a spider,” Eddie says, wagging his finger— the one with the pulse oximeter— at Steve like what he’s saying makes perfect sense. 

To him— pumped full of some pretty hardcore drugs— it probably does.  

“Okay,” Steve says, deciding to humor him. He shifts on the chair, leaning forward so that his back isn’t pressed against anything. They cleaned his wounds and changed his bandages before he came to Eddie’s room and by now the numbing cream has started to wear off and it stings. “Well, I also got bit by bats. Does that mean I’ll become Batman too?”

Eddie’s eyebrows knit together in a cute little frown. “There can only be one Batman.”

“And why does it have to be you?”

Eddie thinks it over for a second before propping himself up in his elbows, eyes wide. “I dress in black! And I have bat tattoos!” 

“Well, I have rich parents,” Steve counters with. It’s the one thing he knows he shares with the character. 

“Well, my parents are dead!” Eddie says. It’s probably the drugs’ fault that he sounds so enthusiastic about it. “I win!”

“Fine,” Steve says, rolling his eyes half-heartedly, “I guess you can be Batman.”

Eddie grins, satisfied, flopping back against the bed, his hair fanning out against the pillow. “You can be Robin,” he tells Steve, giving him a lopsided smile. 

“Sure, Eds.”

Eddie perks up and props himself on his elbows again. “Hey, we should dress up as them for Halloween!”

Steve can’t help but make a face. “No way, man.”

“Oh, right,” Eddie says, his smile falling, “we won’t be friends anymore by then.”

Wait— what?

“What are you talking about?” Steve asks, frowning. That makes even less sense than his drug-induced Batman musings. 

“Well, you only hang out with me ’cause we’re both stuck in this hospital,” Eddie says matter-of-factly, “but once we’re out of here, you’ll have no reason to put up with me.”

Steve starts shaking his head even before he’s done talking. He knows Eddie is only saying this out loud because of the drugs but it’s something he must’ve thought about it before. It makes Steve sad to think he’s been feeling this way for the last couple of weeks and Steve didn’t know. 

“Eddie, I don’t ‘put up with you’, okay? We’re friends, I like your company. You’re like, cool and really funny,” Steve says as earnestly as he can. “And we saved the world together! That means you’re stuck with me, man.”

Eddie’s eyes grow wider as Steve talks. He blinks slowly at him as he processes the words before his lips stretch into a big grin. 

“Does that mean we can dress up together?”

Steve’s lips scrunch to the side. “Yeah, no, I’m not wearing a nerdy costume, especially one where I have to wear tights,” he says in a bitchy tone. 

“But you’d look so good in them,” Eddie insists and then leers at Steve, licking his lips before he adds in a low voice— “big boy.”

Steve’s eyes go wide, and just like the first time Eddie called him that, he blushes and forgets how to speak from how flustered he feels.

He’s lucky he’s not the one hooked to a heart monitor right now or the damn thing would’ve started beeping like crazy in time with his stuttering heartbeat. 

He’s saved from having to say anything in response to that by a doctor coming into the room at that moment to check on Eddie, distracting him and breaking the weird tension. It’s a good thing she doesn’t pay any attention to Steve or she might ask why his face is bright red. 

“Hey, Doc,” Eddie says as she checks his vitals. The doctor hums in acknowledgment. “I’m Batman.” 

“Sure you are, Mr. Munson,” she says in a bored tone but Eddie doesn’t seem to care that she acts so dismissively. 

His head lolls to the side and he gives Steve a dimpled grin. “And that’s my Boy Wonder,” he says, eyes warm and molten as they stare at him.

Steve doesn’t know why that makes his heart skip a beat or why it makes his lungs feel like they can’t draw any air in.

Or why he wants Eddie to look at him like that again so desperately that he’s genuinely considering wearing those tights on Halloween after all.

Maybe he should ask the doctor for a check-up after she’s done with Eddie, just to be safe. He thinks he might be coming down with something.

[buckymorelikefuckme]

cry baby

bucky barnes x fem reader

words: 7.3k

warnings: **18+ ONLY** smut, edging, overstimulation, crying during sex, mentions of flushed cheeks, friends to lovers, misunderstandings, lapslock.

a/n: this is arguably one of my absolute fave fics i've ever written. she is near and dear to my heart :') i've provided the link for ao3 if you prefer to read it there! it's originally posted in two parts but i've combined them here. any and all mistakes are mine. feedback is encouraged & appreciated ♡

“the boys are running late,” natasha informs you when you make your way to the table she’s conquered in the busy cafe. “sam texted a couple minutes ago and said he and bucky got stuck in traffic.”

it’s the second tuesday of the month, which means it’s brunch day. it’s a running tradition that’s stood for the four of you since your college days. the time and place has changed over the years, but everyone does their absolute best to attend every time. these tuesdays are your favorite, naturally.

you plop into an empty chair across from her with a heavy sigh. “good, that means i have time to bitch about how fucking horny i am before they get here.”

she snorts, taking a delicate sip of her latte. “what’s new?” she wonders sarcastically.

“you don’t understand,” you begin, leaning into the table, gripping the edge tightly. “it’s been months, and not like, a few, i mean it’s coming up on a year.”

natasha’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “a year? what about that guy you went on a few dates with a while back? didn’t anything happen with him?”

“no,” you grumble, sitting back in your chair and crossing your arms. you huff. “and even if something had happened, i doubt it would have been satisfying. i can probably count on one hand the amount of times sex has been even kinda pleasurable for me.”

“sounds like you’re picking shitty partners.”

you scowl. “i know that, but it’s not my fault. all these stupid men keep promising they’re gonna fuck me ten ways to sunday and not a single one of them can even get me to wednesday.”

natasha laughs. “you poor thing.”

“you’re really not helping me here,” you whine with a pitiful pout on your lips. “you are getting routine dickings, you have sam! i am not so lucky here.” you notice her attention flicks to somewhere behind you, but you’re not finished with your rant. “nat, i’m serious. all of my sex encounters are the equivalent of asking someone to scratch my back and then they scratch literally anywhere but the spot that itches. i want to be fucked so good that i cry, just—completely reduced to tears. is that too much to ask?”

nat is hiding her smile behind her hand, amusement painted across her sharp features. someone clears their throat behind you and you pinch the bridge of your nose. sam and bucky occupy the empty seats, sam next to natasha and bucky next to you. they’re both sporting wide grins, looking far too pleased about stumbling into this conversation.

sam opens his mouth, no doubt to make a smartass comment, but you cut him off before he can get a good inhale in.

“not a fucking word,” you grouse with a finger pointed in his direction.

he presses a hand to his chest, expression offended. “i would never make a joke about your truly tragic excuse of a sex life.”

bucky snickers quietly, but turns into a cough at your glare.

“i’ll murder you,” you promise.

“leave her alone, boys,” natasha says, rolling her eyes, though she’s visibly biting back her own laughter.

you huff, digging your wallet out of your purse. “i hate all of you,” you announce before getting up and going to stand in line to order.

bucky follows a moment later, coming to stand at your side and throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“that bad, huh?” he asks.

you don’t have to look at his face to know he’s probably smirking right now.

“fuck off,” you retort, not bothering to push his arm away since you know he’d only put it right back.

“aw, come on, don’t be like that,” he jests, “you know we just like to poke a little fun.”

you roll your eyes, throwing him an exasperated look. “yeah, but that was something only nat was supposed to hear. i hate talking about sex with you and sam because you two wouldn’t understand.”

“that’s not true,” bucky insists, which makes you roll your eyes again. “it’s not!”

“first of all, sam’s got natasha, so we both know they’re more than satisfied.” bucky tilts his head in acquiescence. “and you don’t have to worry about if you’re gonna have an orgasm when you hook up with somebody. men have it so easy.”

it’s probably not the best thing to talk about in line of a busy cafe (especially since you haven’t decided between a blueberry muffin or the ham and cheese croissant, and there’s only one person ahead of you now and you’d really rather not be discussing your lack of sex in front of an innocent barista) but it sort of feels good to get this off your chest, even if it’s to bucky.

“okay, definitely not true,” he replies with a frown. “i’m not always guaranteed an orgasm.”

you give him a skeptical glance. “i find that hard to believe.”

this time, it’s bucky who rolls his eyes. “whatever, whether or not i come when i have sex with someone isn’t what i was gonna talk about when i came over here.”

the person in front of you finishes their order and then you’re stepping up for your turn.

“hi, what can i get you today?” the young barista asks with a smile.

“a large mocha iced coffee with sweet cream and a blueberry muffin, please.” you pause, contemplating, then add, “and a ham and cheese croissant.”

if you can’t get fucked within an inch of your life then food will become your lover, you reason.

“just a black coffee for me, please,” bucky tells the girl, taking his wallet out of his back pocket and handing over his card to pay before you can stop him.

“i could’ve paid for mine,” you mumble.

“you also could just say thank you,” he replies with a short laugh as he ushers you to the side to wait for your order.

you pinch his hip, pouting. “thank you.”

“why does your gratitude come with violence?” he asks, rubbing the sore spot.

“you know how i am when people do nice things for me.”

“you should be used to it by now,” he points out.

“well, i’m not,” you huff. “anyway, what did you come over here to talk about then?”

bucky reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, uncharacteristically shy all the sudden. “uh, well. i dunno, i just thought… you know, since you’re not—i mean, not that you couldn’t be, just—you haven’t been, so maybe… fuck.”

“spit it out,” you say with a giggle, wondering what in the world’s got him so tongue-tied.

“why don’t you let me?” he blurts, averting his gaze immediately after.

you tilt your head in confusion. “let you what?”

he sighs heavily, working his jaw in frustration. “you know…” he begins, digging his thumbnail into a knick on the countertop in front of you. “let me fuck you until you cry.”

“what?”

just then, your order is called. bucky quickly grabs it and turns to make his way back to the table, but you grab his arm to stop him.

“i don’t think so, you come back here right now and explain yourself,” you demand.

his eyes lift heavenward. “it’s just an idea, okay?”

“bucky, you’re talking about crossing a huge line. you can’t just throw that out all willy nilly!”

“i know,” he replies earnestly. “and it’s not—“ he grimaces at the phrasing, “willy nilly. you’re one of my best friends. i wouldn’t jeopardize that for anything, and i wouldn’t offer this if i thought that it could. this is something that’s obviously affecting you negatively in your life and i’m willing to help. i trust you, and i’m pretty sure you trust me, yeah?”

“of course i trust you,” you say, frowning.

he shrugs. “so, then it’s just… a friend helping another friend.”

“you make it sound so simple,” you muse in wonder.

“think about it?” he implores.

you swallow roughly, biting the inside of your cheek. “fine. i’ll think about it.”

he nods and walks back over to the table where sam and natasha are waiting. you hesitate for only a split second before following.

needless to say, you’re distracted for the rest of brunch.

***

you: what even makes you think you could fuck me until i cry anyway?

it’s been nearly a week, and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re actually considering taking bucky’s offer. it’s all you can think about since he brought it up. you can’t lie, you’ve always thought bucky was attractive, but ever since you were gently but firmly placed in the friend category back in university, you never allowed yourself to think of there ever being more between the two of you. he’s a wonderful friend to have and you’d have been an idiot to pass it up. bucky is kind and generous and just enough of an asshole to keep things interesting without it being a problem.

but this… this has left you reeling. why would he make such an offer after only ever keeping things strictly friendly and platonic in your relationship? and more importantly, where does he get the confidence to think he could follow through?

bucky: experience?

you make a face at your phone, furiously typing your reply.

you: ew. do you realize how douchey that sounds?

bucky: well, it’s not douchey if it’s true.

you: says you

bucky: and a few other people :)

bucky: you’d know it too if you’d let me fuck you

you exhale harshly through your nose, tapping your foot on the floor anxiously, carefully thinking of what you should say next.

you: it’s apparently a tall request, and thus far, nobody’s been able to deliver. you can understand my skepticism…

bucky: if i don’t leave you shivering and twitching with aftershocks of pleasure, in a mess of sweat and come, and tears stained on your cheeks, then i will have failed you.

your thighs squeeze together at the mental image that brings you. jesus christ, if he’s half as good at fucking as he is dirty talking then he just might do as he’s promising.

bucky: so? what do you say? wanna give it a try?

biting your lip, you give yourself a moment to weigh the pros and cons in your mind one last time.

it doesn’t take you very long to make your decision.

you: okay. we’ll try.

***

it’s a slightly overcast sunday when bucky comes over with the direct intention to fuck you. it should be weird, but strangely, all you feel is anticipation. maybe it’s because you know him so well and know that, no matter what, he’d take care of you.

(or, maybe it’s because those repressed college-aged feelings are doing their best to resurface, even though you steadfastly continue to ignore them.)

you’d taken a thorough shower earlier to ease the little bit of nerves you had when you’d woken up. cleaning up the small mess your apartment gathered over the last couple weeks helped, as well, and soon you found yourself standing in front of your lingerie drawer with your lips pursed.

you weren’t sure if you should even bother with it, but it felt you wouldn’t be putting in any effort into this encounter if you didn’t at least pick out nice underwear. so, with a pleased nod, you settle on some simple black lace panties and a matching bralette. not too much, but enough to satisfy yourself, and hopefully bucky. you pick out a simple sundress to put on over it, since you won’t be wearing much of anything once bucky gets here. that thought has you flushing, but you ignore it to put on some makeup, just to freshen up your face.

by the time he knocks on your door, you’ve already finished a glass of wine and are pouring yourself a second.

he smiles when open the door, a bit boyishly, greeting you with a quiet, “hi.”

“hi,” you return, just as soft. you open the door wider. “come in.”

he walks passed you, stopping to toe his shoes off and hang his jacket on one of the hooks.

“do you want a glass of wine?” you ask as you head to the kitchen to retrieve your own from the counter.

bucky follows, stopping in the entryway with his hands in his pockets. “no, thank you.”

you nod, taking a sip from your glass, trying to figure out what to say. the air feels a little awkward and you’re not sure how to fix it.

“nervous?” he wonders curiously.

you shake your head. “not really.”

he quirks a brow. “then what’s wrong?”

“i don’t know,” you murmur. “i guess i’m just worried we’re making a mistake.”

he hums. you take a larger sip of your wine.

with cautious steps, he comes closer to you. “what if i promise that things won’t be weird after?”

“you can’t really promise that, though.”

“sure i can,” he says, smiling. “it’s me and you. we’ve been friends for so long. plenty of people have sex and stay friends after.”

you’re not just ‘people’ to me, you think.

you sigh, frustrated with yourself. you can’t deny how badly you want this. it’s all you’ve been able to think about since that day in the cafe. but the thought of losing bucky is heartbreaking, and you don’t want your stupid horniness to be the reason that you ruin a friendship, even if he was the one to offer sex.

“why don’t we go make out on the couch for a little while first?” he suggests after a moment’s pause.

you snort, in spite of your thoughts. “like a couple of teenagers?”

his eyes crinkle on the sides when he grins. “yeah. we’ll just see how we feel about that, and if it leads to more, then…” he trails off, shrugging.

“that’s not a bad idea,” you concede.

“great! finish your wine.”

you laugh and do as you’re told, downing the little remaining wine in one go, sitting the glass down on the counter resolutely as you swallow.

“let’s do this,” you say, determined.

bucky huffs a laugh, grabbing your wrist and tugging you behind him as he makes his way to the couch. he settles slightly facing you as you tuck your legs under you beside him.

“do you wanna talk, or do you want to jump straight into it?”

“if we talk anymore i’m gonna change my mind. just kiss me already, bucky.”

“yes ma’am,” he sasses before doing exactly that.

he cups your cheek with one hand as the other is placed on your knee. he guides your face to his and kisses you chastely. you’re not sure where to put your hands at first, but you tell yourself to quit being a goober about it and place them on either side of his neck, your thumbs brushing under his jaw.

it’s an okay kiss, you have to admit, but it’s not really doing anything for you yet. he has soft lips, softer than you thought they’d be. you’re beginning to wonder if maybe this confirms you shouldn’t go any further when he tilts his head, and… hm.

he parts his lips, taking your bottom one between his, kissing it, then nipping it. you wouldn’t say the sound you make is a gasp, necessarily, but it’s close. his tongue lightly caresses the seam of your mouth and you don’t even think before you open up for him, letting his tongue sweep in, flicking against yours. you hum, scooting a tiny bit closer to him, chasing the feeling. his kisses turn insistent then, teeth biting at your bottom lip and tugging, soothing the ache with his tongue. he kisses you like a man quenching his thirst, like you’re the best goddamn thing he’s ever tasted, and it’s leaving you dizzy. you sway more into his space and he pulls away from your mouth.

“c’mere,” he whispers, gripping behind one of your knees to drag it over his hips so you’re straddling him. “much better.”

you don’t have a chance to process anything about the moment, his mouth back on yours in a blink. your fingers wind themselves into his hair, getting a good grip on it as you lick into his mouth. he lets out a soft noise at that and you try your damnedest to pry it out of him again, pressing your chest to his so there’s not even a sliver of space left between you.

his hands travel, down the sides of your torso to your thighs, back up to your hips where he holds on tight. it doesn’t take long after that before you find yourself grinding into him. you both moan at the same time, breaking the kiss to pant for breath.

you swallow roughly. “okay,” you murmur, “i think it’s safe to say this could work.”

bucky laughs quietly. “yeah? wanna move to your bed then?”

your squeeze your thighs around him, shifting minutely on his lap and feeling the beginnings of his erection beneath you. “yes,” you breathe.

quickly, you rise from your position and step back, allowing bucky to stand, then grab his hand and lead him to your bedroom. once you’re standing beside your bed, you turn to face him. he meets your halfway, pulling you into another, filthier kiss. you reach for his belt buckle, unfastening it and sliding it through the loops, tossing it to your floor. next are the button and zip of his jeans, shoved down his legs until he steps out of them and kicks them and his socks aside. he obediently lifts his arms when you slide your hands under his shirt and begin pushing it up, breaking the kiss to nearly yank it off, making bucky huff in amusement. once it’s tossed with the rest of his clothes, bucky grabs fistfuls of your dress and pulls you into him.

“my turn,” he says against your lips.

carefully, bucky helps you out of your dress, eyes raking over every bit of new skin shown to him. he bites his lip when he sees your lacy underthings.

“you got all dolled up for me?” he asks.

shifting under his stare, you nod. “wanted to look nice,” you admit.

he hums. “beautiful.”

he kisses you again, a little softer than before, but no less passionate. the urgency returns as he backs you up until your thighs hit the mattress. gently, he guides you onto your back, never breaking the kiss as he follows you down and settles over you.

you soon find yourself in need of air and pull away with a gasp. bucky is undeterred and instead presses his kisses down your jaw, to your neck where he decides to bite and suck until he’s left a mark you’ll have to reprimand him for later. he licks his way up to your ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth, drawing a whine out of you.

“bucky,” you whisper, hands gripping his sides as you squirm below him.

“hm?”

you close your eyes tightly when he makes his way back down to your collarbones.

“please,” you whimper.

“please what, sweetheart?” he asks, pushing himself up to look you in the eye.

“t-touch me,” you beg, cheeks flushing.

his lips quirk into a smile. “i am touching you.”

“bucky,” you whine.

“where do you want me to touch you, hm?” he wonders. one of his hands trails across your shoulder and down the center of your chest. “here? or… here?”

when his fingers glide, barely there, over your pebbled nipples, you push into the touch eagerly.

“or…” he continues, his feather light touch making a path down your stomach. your breath quickens in anticipation. “here?” he murmurs as his fingertips stop on your pantyline.

“yes, there, anywhere,” you agree hastily, “just —please. please, bucky, don’t tease me.”

he kisses you again, deep, full of promise. “you beg so prettily for me.”

he rearranges your positions until he’s between your spread thighs, sweeping his hands across the inside of them. he nods to your panties.

“may i?”

“yes, please,” you reply, lifting your hips to help him take them off.

he doesn’t give you a chance to close your legs in shyness, firmly grasping your knees in each of his hands and spreading them once again. the way he’s looking at you makes you feel unbelievably desirable, has excitement crawling up your spine.

“don’t forget,” you remind him, making his eyes flick up to yours in question, “you better make me cry.”

a slow, dangerous smile graces his lips. your stomach swoops eagerly.

~

a whine, high pitched and drawn out, escapes your lips. after you unwittingly challenged him, bucky took it upon himself to torture you—with sex. so far, he’s only used his fingers on you, in you, thrusting them steadily but never enough to bring you to climax. he’s taking his time and being a smug prick about it. you go to complain, again, hoping if you beg enough he’ll let you come, but before you can do more than open your mouth he’s quickening his pace.

“oh!” you gasp, clutching the sheets in your hands.

bucky slides his hand down your thigh, bringing his thumb inward to swipe around where his other fingers are buried inside you to gather your wetness and using it to rub circles on your clit. your back arches, head thrown back against your pillows as you feel your orgasm build. it’s not tears, but damn, it feels good enough.

just as you start to clench around his fingers, legs spasming, he stops.

your eyes open in a hurry, brows furrowing in confusion. “no, please, don’t stop,” you plead.

bucky smiles. “i gotta get the right build up.”

you groan in frustration. he laughs quietly and lets the inferno burning within you simmer down to embers, then starts inching his way down until he’s lying on his stomach, mouth poised above your pussy. the feel of his warm breath makes you shiver, and with no warning whatsoever, he leans in and sucks your clit into his mouth.

“fuckin’—oh my— bucky!”

you’re pretty sure you black out for the next several minutes, the only thing you’re aware of is the thudding of your heartbeat in your ears and the feel of bucky’s mouth on you. you’re lost in a mindless haze of pleasure, unable to think or feel anything else. you feel your orgasm cresting for the second time, and just as before, bucky pulls away before you can succumb to it.

“why,” you hiccup on a moan, wanting nothing more than to just come already, but he’s not letting you.

he shushes you, softly kisses your knee. sitting up to take his underwear off, bucky keeps his eyes on you, expression hungry.

“gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” he promises. “just a bit more. you’re being so good for me, yeah?”

“please,” you whimper, feeling completely pathetic.

he makes quick work of putting a condom on and then settles between your thighs. you sigh in relief when he wastes no time and pushes in, being careful not to go too fast. once he’s fully inside you, he pauses, wanting to give you time to adjust, but you’re back to whining.

“bucky, please, please just—fuck me,” you beg, squirming beneath him.

he takes mercy on you, finally, and sets a hard pace. your hands fly up to push against the headboard, moaning and gasping from his harsh thrusts, loving the stretch of him inside you. his thumb is back on your clit and you cry out, clenching hard around him, but his thrusts don’t falter. all too soon, you can feel yourself getting close. you hear your own voice chanting please, please, please, mixed in with bucky’s grunts and the sound of him fucking you.

you whimper, eyes squeezed shut as your climax hits the point of no return, crashing over you in waves. you think you might scream, but it’s hard to pay attention to anything other than the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. part of you thinks this’ll be it, bucky will come now and then you’ll have had one of the best orgasms of your life and he’ll be on his merry way home. but no, that’s not what happens.

instead, bucky keeps thrusting relentlessly into you, dragging out your pleasure to the point of oversensitivity.

“s’too much,” you breathe, gasping for air.

bucky shakes his head, face contorted in concentration. “one more,” he tells you, voice gruff and deep.

unbelievably, you feel tears beginning to gather in the corners of your eyes. bucky’s still rubbing your clit, still keeping a steady rhythm of his hips, and fuck, he’s so beautiful. you watch him fucking you, wondering how the fuck you got to this moment, how you got lucky enough to bear witness to the sight of bucky fucking, let alone be the one he fucks. his body is ridiculous, looking like it’s carved from marble. you know how much strength it holds, as well, know that if he really wanted to, he could probably fuck you against a wall.

it’s with that thought, with the added bonus of the way bucky touches you, looks at you, like you’re something treasured and gorgeous, giving you such intense pleasure, that the tears threatening to spill over finally fall from your lashes.

bucky notices, because of course he does, and he thrusts into you just a little faster, a little harder, and your body seizes up and then you’re falling into another orgasm. it spreads through your veins, slow like honey, making sure this one settles deep into your bones. bucky groans as he, too, reaches climax, hips twitching into you in aftershocks until he stops moving altogether.

you both pant for breath, sweat gathered in every crevice on your bodies. you think you won’t be able to move for the rest of the weekend.

“need to pull out,” bucky says softly, breaking the moment.

you nod and he carefully pulls his hips back, grunting. you poorly suppress a whimper and close your legs, already hating the empty feeling.

“well,” he starts, plopping himself on his back next to you, “i think i deserve some kind of reward.”

when you turn to face him with an exasperated look, he’s got his arms crossed behind his head, a smug smile across his lips.

“how about i don’t kick you in the balls? how’s that for a reward?”

“i literally just did the impossible.”

“what, made me come twice? i can do that all on my own. you’re not special,” you retort with a huff.

he scoffs. “i fucked you so good you cried.”

“you can’t prove it,” you say to the ceiling.

“keep up this attitude and i won’t do it again,” he threatens, poking you in your side.

you wiggle away from the ticklish touch while trying to tamp down on the hope bubbling in your chest.

“oh, we’re doing this again, are we?” you say as casually as possible.

he rolls his eyes. “of course we are. now,” he sits up in your bed, stretching his arms as he stands and picks up his underwear, “i’m starving. wanna order takeout?”

well, you guess if you’d been worried about any kind of awkwardness before, you shouldn’t have. this is bucky, your best friend. he’d never let things change between you.

***

except, things kinda change between the two of you.

it’s not very noticeable at first, changes so subtle you miss them, until one day he showed up at your apartment and greeted you with a kiss. you stood frozen in your doorway as he rambled about how stressful his day had been as he kicked his shoes off. it was only when you heard him calling out from the kitchen that he was gonna eat your leftovers that you snapped out of it, yelling back that you’d kick his ass if he even touched your dumplings.

another day, he facetimes you and asks if you want to go to see that new movie you’ve been talking about.

“oh,” you’d said. “are nat and sam coming, too?”

he’d given you a funny look, replied, “no, i thought it would just be us two.”

“oh,” you said again. “okay.”

so you’d gone to the movies, let him buy you buttery popcorn and peanut m&m’s and a soda bigger than your head. he shared with you, despite your protests, and halfway through the film you felt his hand settle on your thigh. you blinked and stared at it for a beat, turning to him in question. he only smiled at you briefly before focusing back on the movie.

in between all of this, you continued calling him over for sex. honestly, how could you not? as much as you didn’t want to admit it to him, he was the best you’ve ever had. and if he’s so willing, why shouldn’t you take advantage while you can?

a week ago, though, you’d texted him and asked him to come over, replying to his question of what time and then started getting ready. you’d purchased a new piece of lingerie, a periwinkle babydoll nightie, that left very little to the imagination. it had a matching pair of panties and felt soft and luxurious on your skin. you’d taken extra time to do your hair and makeup, wanting to look like sex on legs, and you’re pretty sure you succeeded.

but when he got there and you answered the door in your sexy outfit, he didn’t see it right away. in one hand he held his phone, typing something on it, and in the other hand he held a grocery bag that you eyed curiously.

“i brought stuff to make spaghetti—“

when he did finally look up, his eyes widened and traveled the length of your body several times. you bit your lip, trying and failing to hold back your smile.

“how about we skip dinner?” you’d said, fisting his nice button-up shirt and dragging him inside your apartment. you grabbed the grocery bag from his hand and sat it on the floor, absently noting he was wearing his date jeans.

whoops, you’d thought, hope i didn’t pull him away from someone important.

you hadn’t let yourself dwell on it, standing up on your tippy toes and kissing him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. he’d returned the kiss, licking into your mouth, drawing your tongue out so he could suck on it and made you moan embarrassingly loud.

“wait,” he’d murmured, “we should eat first.”

“or, you could eat me,” you’d retorted with a giggle.

he groaned like it pained him to say no, gripped your hips hard and put a tiny bit of distance between you. the look in his eyes had made you want to find the nearest flat surface and bend over.

“why don’t you be a good girl for me, hm? let me cook dinner for us and after we eat i’ll fuck you however you want me to. okay, sweetheart?”

you whined, but ultimately agreed, knowing he’d make it worth it.

and then there’s tonight, where he came over unannounced, armed with groceries again and promising to cook you the best meal you’ve ever had. to say you were confused would be an understatement, but you also didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth.

it’s just… well, bucky’s not really acting like a friend with benefits. sure, you hung out alone with him all the time before, but he never once cooked you dinner, and he certainly never helped wash dishes after. you guess the hello kisses could be explained away as part of the new aspect of your relationship, but something about that didn’t sit quite right with you.

after a truly delicious dinner, you find yourself on the couch with bucky as he scrolls through netflix to find a movie to put on.

“what do you want to watch?” he asks.

“mm,” you mumble, shifting closer to start kissing his neck, “don’t care.”

as he narrows down his decision and finally picks one, you make your way up to his jaw, sucking a small mark into the skin there.

“baby,” he protests softly, “let’s just watch the movie, yeah?”

you pull back, confused. first at the pet name, then at his words. he’s never denied you before, which isn’t to say that he can’t, it’s just that he’s always seemed on board. and, you know, you thought that was kind of the whole point of this thing.

“okay,” you reply after a moment.

he gives you a smile and a sweet kiss, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his side to cuddle. you can’t help but frown, feeling like you’re missing something, but not knowing what it could be.

it doesn’t take long for drowsiness to creep up on you. before he showed up, you had planned on probably ordering out for dinner and going to bed early since you’d had a pretty rough day. in fact, you remember texting bucky about it just that afternoon. your eyelids get heavier and heavier, finding it harder to keep them open as the seconds pass. your head droops and in the next blink, you’ve fallen asleep.

you’re not sure how much time has passed when bucky wakes you, but you groan, pouting and burrowing into his shoulder more.

he huffs a laugh. “c’mon, sweetheart, let’s get you to bed.”

“don’ wanna move,” you mumble tiredly.

“i’ll carry you,” he offers. “up you go, baby.”

you half heartedly argue about being jostled, but let him carry you to your bed where he carefully places you, helping you out of your sweatpants and pulling your blankets up around you. you sigh in content, feeling yourself already drifting back into sleep. you hear bucky shuffling, but think nothing of it until the bed dips beside you, then feel his warm body slide in underneath the covers and press in close.

“goodnight, darlin’,” he murmurs.

you’d ask him what in the word he’s doing, but sleep is just far too enticing to ignore. you fall into slumber with bucky’s warmth along your back, his arm draped over you.

the next morning, you wake to the feeling of his fingers playing with the tiny bow on the front of your panties and his lips placing gentle kisses on your shoulder. you hum, eyes still closed, in the back of your mind thinking this is a nice way to wake up. at the sound of you, his touches get firmer, more insistent.

“good morning,” he rasps, breath tickling your ear.

you don’t really get a chance to reply. he dips his fingers into your panties, making you inhale sharply, moaning as you buck into his hand. he fingers you for a while, kissing along the column of your throat, biting and sucking marks into the skin there. when you’re begging him for more, he relents, eases your panties off and lifts your leg to slide in from behind. the angle is so nice it has you gasping.

you clutch the sheets weakly, burying your face in your pillow and muffle your whines and moans. bucky keeps a slow, lazy rhythm, acting as if he’s got all the time in the world to draw this out. it’s good, so good, and you can’t hold back your whimper when he kicks up the pace a little, tells you to touch yourself. you come seconds before he does, shuddering through it and humming happily.

as you both lie there and catch your breath, awareness trickles into your mind. you swallow roughly, staring blankly at the wall as you realize your feelings have grown far too much for this to be only casual anymore.

bucky kisses your shoulder again. “i’m gonna go make breakfast, okay? i’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“okay,” you whisper, blinking rapidly to keep tears from forming.

hearing bucky bustle around your kitchen makes your heart clench with want; want for something you can’t have.

***

bucky: dinner tonight?

you bite the inside of your cheek as you stare at the text. you know you need to cut things off with him before you get anymore hurt than you already are. it’s not fair to either of you if you continue with this arrangement when you’ve caught real feelings for him. you have to tell him, and soon. with that thought in mind, you type out a reply.

you: sure. what time?

bucky: reservations are at 8pm, i’ll pick you up by 7:45.

reservations? where was he taking you? you get another text before you can ask.

bucky: dress nice ;)

with a sigh, you text back an affirmative and try to start mentally preparing yourself for the conversation you dreaded having. you could only hope and pray that he agrees to still be your friend after.

by the time there’s a knock on your door that night, you’ve worked yourself up into an anxious mess. you open the door to see bucky standing there with a single peach colored rose and a bashful grin.

“hi,” he greets, leaning in to kiss you on your cheek. “this is for you.”

he hands you the rose and you feel your heart crack in your chest. you muster a small smile.

“thank you. let me go put this in a vase and we can head out.”

he nods and waits patiently at the door. as you fill a vase with a little water, you take a deep breath, giving yourself a mental pep talk.

this was going to suck.

the drive to the restaurant doesn’t take too long, and when you see where he’s taken you, your eyebrows shoot up. this is one of the nicer places in the city, definitely not on the affordable side. he helps you out of the car, leading you inside with his hand on the small of your back. you’re led to a small booth in a far corner with overhead lighting that feels too intimate. maybe you’d have to wait until you left to tell him…

conversation is light, a bit surface level, and you get the feeling that bucky is a little nervous. you wonder if maybe he’s gonna let you down gently first, hoping that he doesn’t, because you’d rather not cry in such a fancy restaurant.

after the waiter takes your drink orders, bucky sighs.

“okay, let me just… get this off my chest.”

oh fuck, here it goes.

“i know i’ve never really come across at the most romantic guy, especially since i’ve never felt the need to be.” he runs a nervous hand through his hair. “you’ve always been so important to me, and this last month has been so, so wonderful.”

“bucky…” you trail off, attempting to somehow stop him, but he powers through.

“i just—i never thought i’d find somebody, you know?” he says, earnest, gaze locked on yours. another crack in your heart. “especially not somebody who was my friend first, that i already had a solid foundation with. the attraction had always been there, but the friendship meant more to me, and finally allowing that to blossom into this amazing, new, fun relationship has got to be the best decision i’ve ever made.”

did he start dating someone and not tell you? oh god, has he been sleeping with someone else? at the same time? your stomach turns, eyes burning, hating yourself more and more as he speaks.

“so, i guess what i’m trying to say is,” he says, rolling his eyes at himself and smiling, “happy one month anniversary, sweetheart.”

you blink, feeling a tear slip down your cheek. “what?” you croak, beyond confused.

bucky, however, looks concerned. “baby, why are you crying?”

“i…” you blink some more, eyes flitting around the room as if you’ll get some kind of clarity that way to the situation currently happening. “what?” you repeat.

“did i come on too strong?” he asks, looking embarrassed now. “i wasn’t sure if you’d even want to celebrate, but i’ve just been so happy with you—i’m sorry, baby, i should’ve asked.”

“bucky, what are you talking about?” you finally manage, unable to keep the bewilderment out of your tone. “anniversary?”

bucky frowns. “i didn’t get the date wrong, did i?”

“no, i—this isn’t—i’m not talking about—ugh, i mean, when did we even start having an anniversary to celebrate?”

bucky’s face goes blank, sitting back in his chair. your heart is pounding wildly in your chest, so fucking confused, so fucking hopeful.

“we… we’re dating,” he says, slow, unsure. “aren’t we?”

“since when?” you ask probably too loudly, cheeks flushing.

he opens and closes his mouth a couple times. “when i asked you out?”

“bucky, oh my god, you’re gonna have to be more specific before i lose my goddamn mind. when did you ask me out?”

he huffs, his own cheeks flushing. “at the cafe! a month ago, at brunch with natasha and sam.”

your eyes widen in disbelief. “when you asked if you could fuck me until i cried?” you hiss, ignoring the scandalized look on the waiter’s face as he brings your drinks over.

smiling apologetically, you thank him and wait until he’s gone before sending a glare bucky’s way.

“that’s not how you ask a person out,” you seethe.

“i asked if you wanted to give this a try and you said yes!” he replies desperately. “i’ve taken you on dates!”

you pinch the bridge of your nose, thinking of all the times you thought he was being too romantic, more-than-friends type of behavior. you’re a fucking idiot, but god, so was he.

“at no point did you say anything even remotely close about us starting a relationship. i thought we were just fucking, bucky, i didn’t realize it was more than that!”

“you don’t—“ he starts, then stops, looking down at the plate in front of him. “you don’t want to be with me?”

“i didn’t know it was an option,” you say carefully.

“well, it is.” he meets your gaze, cautious. “i just spilled my guts to you. you know how i feel now. how do you feel? about me?”

you lick your lips. “bucky, i… i was planning to end things with you tonight.” his expression drops, even though he tries to mask it, so you’re quick to explain. “not because i don’t like you, but because i do like you and i thought you wouldn’t want anything more than just sex with me.”

“it’s never been and never could have been just sex with you,” he replies, quiet and relieved. he reaches across the table to take your hand in his. “i meant it when i said you’re the best decision i’ve ever made. i want this—the sex, the dinners, dates, all the gross and sappy shit i never wanted before… i want it all with you, if you’ll have me.”

you can’t fight the smile spreading across your lips. “of course i’ll have you, bucky.”

he smiles in return, a laugh bubbling out of him, which makes you giggle, until you’re both laughing so hard and loud that patrons from other tables are sending dirty looks your way, which only makes you laugh more.

“do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, laughter dying down. “there’s pizza and sex calling our names, i think.”

bucky moans dramatically. “i knew i liked you for a reason.”

he leaves money on the table and then the two of you quickly make your way through the restaurant, giggling and holding hands the whole way, even in the car.

[froggiewrites]

Insomnia

Pairing: Zoro x Reader, platonic Strawhats & Reader

SFW

Summary: You find yourself unable to sleep, and all of your friends are determined to help. Unfortunately, nothing seems to work...until you find yourself in the lap of a certain swordsman. Warnings: Just Extreme Fluff! Word Count: ~3k Crossposted from Ao3

You were exhausted.

It had started slowly. You began to take a little longer to fall asleep and wake up just a touch earlier, spending days with your thoughts just a bit fuzzy around the edges, eyes a little unfocused in quieter moments, but nothing severe.

Then you started waking up in the middle of the night, unable to fall back asleep no matter how long you closed your eyes and laid there, praying for relief. You would instead wander around the ship, find ways to make yourself busy, making conversation with whoever was on night watch. You pretended not to notice the quiet concern on the crew’s faces when they all spoke and realized you had been awake to speak with each of them at 4am for the last week.

And now, you have given up on sleeping entirely, staring at the ceiling of your quarters with no sign of sleep’s embrace at all. No matter what you tried, it wouldn’t come. You can already see sunlight begin to shine under the door. Your friends are stirring, and you can already smell the breakfast Sanji’s making this morning. Another night of restlessness. You can barely force yourself out of your cot, but there isn’t a point in staying. It won’t help. You drag yourself to the deck, feet shuffling and face scowling.

“Still can’t sleep?” You don’t notice Usopp until he speaks, and you look up to see him up on the railing, fishing pole in hand, face flooded with pity and concern.

“No.” You try desperately to keep from snapping, knowing it isn’t his fault, isn’t anyone’s, but the best you can do is keep your voice flat and your words short. He winces a little at your tone, but he doesn’t comment. Instead he ponders you quietly, before seemingly coming to a decision.

“Do you want help?”

“Help how?”

“Help falling asleep! From the great Captain Usopp!” He puts on a silly wide and smug smile, but you can still see the worry in his eyes. He probably doesn’t even have any ideas yet, he just wants to help in any way he can.

“I would try almost anything at this point. What’re you thinking?”

He lets out a smug little laugh. “I knew you’d want my help! I don’t know if you know this, but I’m the greatest storyteller in all the seas.” He gives you a conspiratorial grin. “I bet you I can tell you a bedtime story that’ll send you to dreamland before you know it!”

You consider it. Usopp is an amazing storyteller, of course. You’ve never heard him tell a single tale that wouldn’t hook you enough to keep you awake, but maybe he’s just never tried. “Alright. I’ll come get you tonight—”

“Tonight? You’ll probably die by then! We’re gonna do this now, and you can sleep the entire day!” He grabs your hand, dragging you back to the bunks. You pass a few of your other friends on their way out, and while Zoro and Nami give you strange looks, they don’t comment. Just before the door closes, you see Sanji’s head pop out of the kitchen you call everyone in, and his eyes shift to you in confusion.

The door slams with a definitive sounding thunk, and Usopp’s hands push you onto your cot. He tucks you in with surprisingly practiced hands, before saying, “Alright. Get ready for the best sleep of your life!” He clears his throat dramatically. “Once upon a time, the great Captain Usopp—”

“—the end! …Nothing, huh? Not even for a second?” You flick open an eye to see disappointment on poor Usopp’s face. His tale had continued for at least an hour, with several dozen twists and turns as he tried to stretch it out until you finally started snoring, but you were as horribly, devastatingly awake as ever.

“Not even a wink. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, you're not the one who failed.” His shoulders slump a little. “I really thought that would work.”

You sit up to pat this hand comfortingly. “You didn’t fail, Usopp. I’m just…cursed. Probably. By God.” His stomach grumbles, and you suddenly remember he skipped breakfast to help you. “We should probably eat something.”

“Probably.” He looks so dejected it makes your chest ache a little.

“It’s okay, Usopp. Really.”

He doesn’t respond, getting up to head to the kitchen as you trail behind him. Everyone else has finished eating, half of the crew having already left, with only Sanji, Robin, and Nami chatting quietly over the table. There’s a plate set and ready, food growing cold, and you feel a flash of guilt knowing it was for you.

“Oh, my dear, you’re finally here! I was getting worried. I can fix you a new plate—here—” Sanji shoves the cold plate into Usopp’s hands. “I’ll throw something better together, just you wait!” Before you can even respond, he’s back to the kitchen, busying himself with making you something else.

“Are you alright? You look rather…” Robin trails off, clearly looking for and failing to find any words to describe your current state that wouldn’t be horribly offensive. 

“Awful.” Nami finishes for her, firmly but not without pity. “Are you still having trouble sleeping?”

“Yeah. I haven’t slept in at least 48 hours.”

“Oh my god.” Nami’s mouth hangs open a little, having not realized the full scope of your issues. Her face is painted with concern. “Are you…alright?”

“Not really.”

“You still can’t sleep?” Sanji calls out in concern over his shoulder, his knife still chopping away. “Do you want me to make you some tea? It might help.”

“Is it chamomile? I’ve tried that already.”

“It has chamomile in it, but that isn’t the only part. Valerian root, passionflower, and a couple extra things. I can’t guarantee it’ll fix your problem but it might help. I made it for Franky once and he fell asleep right at the table.” There’s no small measure of pride in his voice at that.

“I’m open to anything, at this point. Would you make me a cup?”

“Of course, dear!” His voice gets soft and honeyed the way it always does when he speaks to you, and after a new plate is placed in front of you he rushes off to the pantry to find the ingredients he needs.

Robin looks over you consideringly. “If that doesn’t work, why don’t you try reading? I always find winding down with a book helps.”

“Maybe. Usopp told me a story and it didn’t end up working, but reading it myself could be different.”

Nami taps her chin with her fingers, pondering. “Do you want to use aromatherapy, too? I have some lavender we could spray on your pillow. That might help too.”

“We can throw whatever spaghetti at the wall you want, I just want something to stick. I’m not picky.”

And with that the girls were off to grab their chosen items, while Usopp silently scarfed down cold eggs and tried to bandage his wounded pride. Sanji is humming a song you don’t recognize as the kettle whistles, and he expertly prepares your cup of tea. He’s sneaking glances over at you, probably lost in a daydream where he saves you from your horrible insomnia and you fall madly in love with him in return. Honestly? If he manages, you might. Any hero that saves you from this is worth considering.

As soon as the mug of tea is placed in your hands, Sanji’s fingers seemingly deliberately brushing against yours, you’re ushered back to your cot, where Nami, Robin, Brook, and Franky are waiting. You have no idea when this turned into a group activity, but sure. Why not?

“I thought some soothing music might help. A lullaby, maybe?” Brook’s voice is soothing and soft, like he’s already trying to lull you to sleep.

“And I brought a white noise machine as a backup! Thought you might like it.” Franky’s voice is as gentle as his natural boom can be.

Your eyes flick between them, then back to Nami, who’s unnaturally focused on fluffing your pillows and adding extra blankets to your cot, making it look the most inviting it ever has. “Are you gonna charge me for those?”

“No! …Probably not.” Her grin is mischievous.

“Honestly, if you get me to sleep, I’ll pay whatever you—”

“Woah! Don’t make any promises you can’t keep. She’ll keep you to that.” Franky’s voice is filled with brotherly concern. “Nami, don’t pay attention to that. Anyone that tired has no idea what they’re saying.”

“I wouldn’t actually take payment for this! I’m not a monster.” Her last punch to your pillow has a bit of extra force behind it, her irritation clear.

Before they can continue bantering, Brook begins playing a tune on his violin, bringing the rest of you to silence. Your hands are wrapped around your warm mug of tea, a book chosen by Robin open in front of you while you sip. The smell of lavender is strong enough to have flooded the room. Franky clicks a button on his little machine and the sounds of spring rain washes over all of you. Your shoulders relax, a soft smile slipping onto your face, but your eyes are no closer to closing. Even when Sanji comes in to take your mug away, the warmth long faded, or when Brook’s finger bones grow tired and his song comes to an end, or when the snores of your friends start to fill the room, you do not sleep. You feel no closer than you were an hour ago when this started, no closer than you were this morning when Usopp had tucked you in. You honestly feel like you’ll never sleep again.

It isn’t until noon that you finally give up, having finished half of the book that Robin lent to you. The smell of lavender had started to fade an hour ago. You carefully step over Franky and Brook passed out on the floor, your eyes wandering over to Nami and Robin sleeping peacefully on vacant cots. You try to be glad this worked for somebody, but you can’t help a bitter sort of jealousy brewing in your chest. Why do they get relief when they aren’t even suffering? Why is it only you who has to feel this weight dragging you down?

You try to stalk past Luffy, pouting all the while, but your captain catches you by the wrist with a rubbery hand. “Are you okay?”

You huff. “I’m never going to sleep again.”

“That sucks.”

You blink at him blankly.

He blinks back.

“I’m just having trouble sleeping. Not, like, literally.”

“Oh.”

“It sucks.”

“Yeah.” He hums, pressing his lips together in thought. You can practically see the lightbulb above his head when he has his idea, his eyes brightening and smile widening. “Oh, I’ve got it!” He pulls you along with him, dragging you quickly further onto the deck before you’re unceremoniously shoved forward, stumbling over your legs and landing on something firm and warm.

“Bwuh?” Your eyes flick up to see Zoro bathed in sunlight, his good eye just barely open, a yawn forcing his mouth open wide. “What’s goin’ on?”

“You’re good at sleeping!” He gives a wide grin. “Help ‘em!” And without elaborating he just…runs off to do god knows what, satisfied that he has somehow solved the problem.

Zoro’s eye focuses on you questioningly, but before you can explain, you suddenly become intensely aware of your position. You’re in his lap, face pressed into his thighs, your chest pressed into his lower legs. You both stare at each other, wide-eyed, unsure on what to say or how to say it.

“You comfortable down there?” His voice is even, but he’s betrayed by the hint of pink on his cheeks.

“I—um. I’m…fine.” You wince at the shake in your voice. You can feel heat spreading from the tips of your ears down to your neck, and you hope it isn’t as noticeable as it feels. The smirk on his face shows it probably is.

“Oh yeah?” He gives a quiet laugh. “You’re welcome to stay.” Despite his own embarrassment, he radiates smugness. That’s Zoro for you—ever the strategist, he finds whatever upper hand he can get and uses it to corner his opponent. He’s looking at you like a cat does a mouse, and you really do feel like prey. You instinctively go to hide your face from him, only to find your nose brushing against his thigh. He chuckles. “Oh, getting cozy, that’s good. I guess you’re in for the long haul.”

You flush even further, and with your voice muffled against his leg, you manage to protest. “I’m having a bad enough time without you bullying me, Zoro.”

“This isn’t bullying. C’mon, I’ve seen how you fight, you’re tougher than that. You normally don’t back down that easily.” His hand ruffles your hair like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “What’s got you so down?”

You whine quietly. “I haven’t slept in days, and I haven’t slept well in weeks. I feel like I’m dying.”

His energy immediately changes, eyes and smile softening into something more genuine. “Doesn’t sound fun. And Luffy thought I could help you with that?”

“I guess.”

“What have you tried?”

“Everything. Counting sheep, bedtime stories, warm drinks, lavender—”

“Bedtime stories?” His voice is teetering on teasing again.

“Usopp’s idea.”

“What, did he tuck you in too?”

You go quiet.

“Wait, really?” He sounds well and truly baffled.

“It was actually kind of nice,” you mumble. 

If you didn’t know better you would think Zoro was pouting. His eye is a bit narrowed, his mouth in a flat line, bottom lip slightly jutted out. “Oh yeah? Well it didn’t work, did it? So you had to come to me for help.”

His hands grab your shoulders, pulling you up so you’re sitting instead of laying on his lap, your face directly pressed into his chest. You can hear his heartbeat below it, not exactly rapid but certainly betraying him, letting you know this situation is affecting him just like it’s affecting you. His arms wrap around you, and when he speaks, you can feel the rumble of his voice radiate through his chest and into you. “And now you’re gonna sit here with me, you’re gonna fall asleep before you know it, and the rest of those fools will have to accept that only I could give you what you need.” He pulls you impossibly closer, snugly tucking you into him and leaning back to pull you down to the deck with him.

“Someone’s a little jealous, huh?”

He scoffs. “Why would I be? Who’re you laying on right now, huh?” His hand grips your hip as if proving a point. “Go to sleep already, you need it.”

“What, you think this is all it takes? Cuddling?” Even as you say it, you break into a yawn, and your eyes begin to droop. His presence is comforting, and between his body heat and the gentle warmth of the sunlight, you can feel yourself beginning to fade. Your vision is too blurry to see his cocky grin, but you know it’s there all the same.

“Yeah, I do. Now get some rest.” You barely hear his response over the calming sound of his heartbeat. Your breathing slows, and before you know it, you’re sleeping for the first time in what feels like years.

After you’ve fallen asleep, he takes his time to observe you. The way your hair shines in the sunlight, the way your mouth parts slightly when you snore, the way your body feels so natural and right against his. His hand rubs a soothing circle into your back while you rest, and you make a soft noise of contentment that he can’t help but smile at. You look so beautiful like this, so small and soft and fragile. Something to care for. Something to protect. It feels right to have you in his arms, right against him, where he can keep you safe. 

He wonders if you’d be willing to do this all the time, though he’d rather die than ask. He has his pride. Maybe you’ll come to him, wide eyed and wanting, next time you struggle to fall asleep. Maybe you’ll ask in that shy little voice if he’d be willing to help you, in the way only he can, and all he’ll have to do is open his arms for you to fall into. Maybe he’ll have more days and nights like these, with the comforting weight of another in his bed. What an idea.

He wonders what you might give him in thanks. One of those breathtaking smiles, surely. A hug, perhaps. It wouldn’t be more than this, pressed together, but the idea of you initiating it, of it being a deliberate choice on your part, makes his heart beat a little faster. He imagines you throwing your arms around him of your own volition, no captain shoving you forward. He imagines those arms moving around his neck instead, pulling him closer so you can press your lips onto his. He imagines how soft they’d be, and how desperate you would be to feel his own. He imagines you wanting him in a dozen different ways, each unique, each better than the last. He imagines calling you his, and you calling him yours in return.

He falls asleep to the idea of a shared life, a shared bed, a shared heart. When the crew finally stumbles out of their naps, they find the two of you on deck, intertwined, a tangle of limbs that seems all but impossible to separate. You’re both snoring softly, smiles on your faces, and they can’t bear to wake you. You seem like you’re having very sweet dreams.

[dnd-writes]

Trials and Tribulations

AO3

Tags: non-con, BFH, I somehow wrote this in 3 hours, what is 'edit', Jeewon, unnamed OC, forced free use, manipulating, groping, painal

A/N: Saw a Jeewon post on KPF and thought of something to write, laid down and wanted to write a few paragraphs before getting back up to go play or whatever, next thing I know I wrote the whole thing already more or less. Consider this as a spiritual successor to Boulevard of Broken Dreams BUT BUT BUT only in that it has somewhat of a similar premise, it is way way way waaaaay more tame and casual (aside from one painal scene) in terms of detail than BBD. Anyway, enjoy!

Cignature’s manager walks into the room and sees Jeewon just getting off her knees, he sees her bend forward, her butt pushes out towards him putting a smile on his face. She brushes her knees clean of dirt then fixes her skirt. As she turns around towards him, he sees a complete contrast to the clean and clothed look of her ass—her bare chest and face covered in cum. 

He looks over her shoulder and sees a middle-aged businessman on a chair, totally exhausted, one of the company’s investors. “She’s wonderful, isn't she?” says the manager to which the only reply he gets is a nod and two thumbs up. “I’ll be taking her away now.”

Jeewon heads out then the manager catches up with her and gets to her side. He puts a hand on her hip to pull her close to him so he can whisper into her ear. “Have one of the girls go clean you up. Haven’t fucked that ass in quite some time.” He smacks her ass as a signal for her to get going. “Be quick, I’ll be waiting, you know where to find me.”

—————

Yep, that’s Jeewon. You’re probably wondering how she ended in that situation. 

How does an innocent, voluptuous, and cheerful woman suddenly become the company’s cash cow? Well it all started when C9 Entertainment noticed a rather peculiar influx of attention. The attention wasn’t mainly on their sole girl group Cignature but rather it was targeted mostly at the company itself. 

They quickly traced it back to an interview that one Jeewon, one of Cignature’s members, did where the interviewer talked about her body, indirectly referring to her chest which she covered at the time the question was asked. Rather than addressing the situation and protecting their own artist, they instead embraced it. After all, as the saying goes, “Any publicity is good publicity.” Which goes true the more people talk about the clip. 

Now all that was left for C9 Entertainment to do was to capitalize on the attention and they found their solution from none other than the infamous interview itself—Waterbomb, well, a festival similar enough to Waterbomb that is. 

The announcement was controversial enough on its own but it was nothing compared to what Jeewon wore at the event. They put her in a bikini top and gave her a thin white top just to say she wasn’t naked. 

The outrage was massive but not as big as Jeewon’s chest or the Won signs in the company’s eyes. Sure the company received tremendous backlash for the decisions they’ve been making but that was nothing compared to the money coming their way. 

From that day forward, the company’s view of Jeewon has changed and all she is in their eyes is merely a tool they can use to generate views and revenue. While the higher ups used Jeewon’s body for profit, their manager planned to use Jeewon’s body for his pleasure. 

He used to see Jeewon and Cignature as his responsibility, close friends, and possibly even family. But given recent events, his perception of her has changed and after the festival, after seeing Jeewon up close, after seeing her tits jiggle, he has been woken up to just how insanely sexy she is. 

After every practice session or performance the group would do, whenever they finished their manager would be close by to congratulate them. Often he would clap and cheer for them or pat their backs. It gave the members encouragement and energy to keep going, that is, until they realized that his pats on Jeewon progressively got lower and lower until one day he’s just groping her butt in view of everyone else. 

Naturally the members would complain to the other staff but some simply didn’t care while the rest told them to just suck it up and accept it. That, along with some gaslighting and manipulating from the manager, made them keep their mouths shut. And the encouragement they would get turned into fear that the rest of the group would be touched the way Jeewon gets touched. 

Following their silence, he became more shameless in his interactions with Jeewon. He would slap her ass as a greeting any time he comes close to her and often we would hug her from behind like some romantic scene in a K-drama but instead it’s so he can grab her breasts without her leaving. 

He even made some rearrangements to the room assignments at the dorm, moving Jeewon from her room to his. He placed, well more so dumped, her things into his room just to seal the deal. And no, he didn’t have an extra bed so he made her stay with him on his. 

On the first night they were in the room together, as Jeewon was about to go to the bathroom to get changed, the manager blocked the way out and instructed her to get changed in front of him. With no other options and no way out, she was forced to comply. He licked his lips as he saw her in her underwear, it wasn’t quite the full thing just yet but he knows for sure he’s going to get it soon enough. They climbed into bed and he turned her around so he could spoon her and cuddle her like some body pillow, all the while grinding his erection into her butt. 

Morning arrived and everyone had breakfast together, with Jeewon sitting on the manager’s lap of course. As Jeewon was headed to the shower, he stops her and tells her he’s going with her “to save water,” a lie apparent to both of them. Jeewon wanted to say no but before she could even answer he was already pushing her towards the bathroom. The members watched anxiously as they walked together, nothing much they could really do. 

The manager immediately strips down and his cock is standing proud as it pointed towards Jeewon who was visibly disgusted. She turns away from him to quietly cry but not even her feelings had space as the manager was already starting to take her clothes off. He got her down to her underwear when he backed off to let her strip the final pieces herself. 

As Jeewon tantalizingly took her bra off, he would quote the interview back at her, saying that her physique is the best in history and that her body is the talk of the town. Jeewon once again covered her chest with her arm while she was removing her panties. She stood back up with her hands on her privates but the manager just walked up and put her hands at her side then he started feeling her up and played with her chest for a good few minutes. He would compliment her tits and especially her nipples since it’s the first time he’s seen them, maybe the first man ever to see them, then he proceeds to call himself lucky how he has her body all to himself. 

After playing with her body, he suggested that they help each other by cleaning each other while he was stroking his dick, making the innuendo even clearer as if Jeewon didn’t already know what he meant. 

The two stepped into the shower but it was less of a bath and more of Jeewon reluctantly jerking him off while he explored every inch of her exposed body once again. 

He would get increasingly annoyed at how slow Jeewon’s pace was and he decided to drop the subtleties and he pushes down on her shoulders to force her down on her knees. Then he grabbed her tits and trapped his cock between them so that he could start thrusting while Jeewon just knelt there and be used. 

Jeewon kept her eyes and mouth as shut as she could while he ejaculated all over her face. Before she could clean herself off, the manager wiped the cum off her face and collected it in his hand. He forced her to drink it all and retched from the taste. He then told her that she should get used to it because that wouldn’t be the last time she has to drink cum. 

After showering and using up more water than if they bathed separately, the group got ready to go to practice. It went just about as well as how their previous practices went just with some extra groping being received by Jeewon. When they got back to the dorm and the two got into the shower again, Jeewon was ready to get back on her knees but instead she felt herself get turned around. 

Jeewon felt the manager’s tip press against her slit and she froze in fear. He did not care if she was protected or not, a problem he was too horny to deal with at the moment. He pulled her back and held her by her chest as he started thrusting into her pussy. Jeewon just cried silently as she felt herself get more violated than she had already been, especially when she felt his hot cum stirring inside of her pussy. 

The manager got high on fucking Jeewon that he proceeded to do just that and only that for the next few days. He didn’t care how or where he fucked Jeewon or who among the members saw it but the only thing that mattered to him was that either Jeewon’s pussy or mouth was occupied by his cock. 

He would fuck her before and after sleeping. He would make her blow him while he ate food and watched TV. He would fuck her on the dining table forcing the members who were eating there to move elsewhere. He would use her mouth to properly clean him in the shower. And so on. Even when the group had to go practice, he would make the rest go to the company building while Jeewon was kept beneath him in the dorm. While they practiced their next performance, Jeewon was being turned into his sex pet. 

One of the members complained that the manager keeps having sex with Jeewon but much to the group’s dismay, they doubled down and saw an opportunity land at their feet. Why stop at dressing Jeewon so scantily clad in public when they could also use her body behind closed doors to also bring more money in, that way whenever the group isn’t on stage, they can be certain that their wallets are full. 

The manager was furious with what the members did even though the decision made by the company was expected for him but instead of finding out who the culprit was, he decided to just cool down and what better way to do that than to use Jeewon’s possibly untouched asshole for the first time. 

The manager had all the members in the living room and they all sat quietly in fear. He told them how annoyed and disappointed he was in them but he made sure to tell them he won’t scold them for it which gave them some relief for a very brief moment until he grabbed Jeewon by her hair and dragged her into his room. The members cried while they held each other as they listened to Jeewon screaming and begging for help, their hearts broke knowing that they couldn’t help and that they were somehow responsible for subjecting her to even more torment. 

He ripped Jeewon's clothes off while he held her down as she tried to struggle to free herself. Once her shorts were down, instead of feeling the familiar feeling of his tip pressing against her cunt, Jeewon felt his dick press against her asshole which made her scream so loud it echoed throughout the whole dorm. 

He didn’t bother lubing up or anything and he just started going in dry. Jeewon never knew such pain prior to that moment, whether mental or physical, and she screamed her head off through the night, making it known to the members just how much pain she was in and making it hard for them to go to sleep just from the loudness alone. 

From being always at the dorm to being almost never, Jeewon was sold off to investors as if she was some sort of prostitute. Though the manager still had his time with Jeewon, he wasn’t able to have as much action as he used to and naturally he turned to the other members of the group. He would assign a day for each member as if it was a chore to be used by him. The other members were also up for grabs but it was Jeewon who anyone wanted to fuck, not like anyone can blame them. 

From a merely suggestive interview question, spiraled all the way into Jeewon being turned into a cow, both financially and sexually. 

[justagalwhowrites]

Bane of My Existence - A QZ Joel Miller One Shot

You and Joel Miller have never gotten along, always at odds whether working together or avoiding each other. But when a smuggling job goes bad, you discover that there might be more to his harsh demeanor than meets the eye.

Pairing: QZ Smuggler!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Enemies to lovers; Joel is bad with emotions; hurt/comfort; canon typical violence; injury that's probably poorly handled because I don't medicine; vague threat of SA (not by Joel, not made to reader); unprotected vaginal sex. Joel carries reader but look... My Joels are all 6'5" and strong as hell, especially in life threatening situations. Man can carry anybody. I'm in love with him because he's a big strong man. No description of reader.

Length: 8.9k (sorry)

A/N: A lil one shot gift for my beautiful bestie @dundienominee :)

Full Masterlist | AO3

“Hell no.” 

Of course Joel Miller said hell no to working with you. Of course he did. 

You weren’t surprised at Joel’s reaction when his smuggling partner, Tess, brought you to their safe house in the QZ. He’d never been the president of your fan club. 

“Joel,” she sighed. 

“Fuck no,” he said. “Not bringin’ her anywhere, she’s a goddamn liability.” 

“Joel,” she said again, sterner this time. 

You, however, just smirked, watching him pace and glare at you, his face getting flushed as he did. 

“She takes stupid fuckin’ risks,” Joel said. “She’s cocky, she’s…”

“Saved your ass from infected?” You asked, raising your eyebrows. 

You knew you were adding fuel to the fire. Tess glared at you for it. Your smirk grew. 

“Wouldn’t have been near the fuckin’ infected if it weren’t for you,” he snapped. “Not. Goin. With. Her.” 

“Well, you don’t have a choice,” Tess said, standing up a little straighter and crossing her arms, staring her partner down. “She’s the one with the contact, they agreed to two people meeting them and she has to be one of them…” 

“How the hell’d you make a contact?” Joel turned his full attention to you, his eyes molten hot and angry. “Anyone you touch ends up fuckin’ dead…” 

“Oh fuck off,” you snapped before you regained your composure. “Don’t get pissy with me because big bad Joel Miller isn’t the top of the smuggling heap in the QZ…” 

“I ain’t pissy!” 

“…Not the top of the heap in anything at all, really…” 

“That’s it!” Joel stalked over, looking like he wanted to slug you. Instead, he just put his finger in your face, a slightly unhinged look in his eyes. “You think I’m doin’ a goddamn thing with you…” 

“You don’t have a choice, Texas,” Tess came and stood beside you, her arms crossed as she looked to Joel. “You burned the bridge we had with the FEDRA officer I need to buy off to get our next round of pills inside, I can’t go on this run because I have to deal with the mess you made when you couldn’t keep your shit together. We want to actually be set before shit gets snowed in for winter? We need her connection. So. You’re going, you’re leaving tonight, and you’re not going to fuck this up. Got it?” 

His jaw tightened. 

“Got it.” 

“Good,” she looked to you. “Your contact knows you’re coming?” 

“They do,” you said, serious now and completely ignoring the wall of muscle who was still standing uncomfortably close to you. “The walk back is going to fucking suck but it should be worth it. Good with the split?” 

“Good might be a strong word for 60/40,” Tess said, shaking her head a little but grinning all the same. “But I’ll take it.” She looked between you and Joel. “Trusting you two to not kill each other out there. Don’t make me regret it. See you in a few days.” 

She left the two of you there in the threadbare apartment without another word, Joel’s glare practically drilling a hole into your skull. 

“Together again, eh Miller?” You smirked at him. 

He didn’t respond. He just went and sat heavily on the worn couch before lying down and closing his eyes. 

“What, didn’t get enough sleep?” You asked, going and standing over him. 

“Slept fine,” he said, eyes still closed. “Just would rather spend the few hours we have before we leave the QZ not listenin’ to you.” 

You rolled your eyes but took a moment to look at Joel when he wasn’t glaring at you. 

It was a rare occurrence, seeing him when he wasn’t scowling and pissed. He let himself relax down into the cushions and the lines in his face eased. As much as you hated to admit it - and you did hate it - Joel was beautiful. Frustratingly so. What’s worse, he’d somehow gotten better looking in the years you’d known him. Jerk.

You’d first met him before you came to the QZ, almost 10 years ago now. You were holed up in your own little corner of Boston, doing your best to stay out of the way of FEDRA, infected and raiders alike. 

It was basically a full-time job, even more so since you’d become the last person standing. A job that you failed at the day you met Joel Miller. 

And, as much as he liked to blame you for it, he was the one who showed up in your corner of town. You’d been napping through the worst of the afternoon heat in mid-July when you heard a clatter: someone tripped one of your alarms. 

“Fuckin’…” 

He swore loud enough that you heard him from your perch and you watched him shake glass out of the wrinkles of his shirt. 

“Someone’s here,” the second man said, much quieter. “That ain’t no accident…” 

The two men moved slowly, cautiously, their rifles raised as they searched for whoever it was who set that trap. When you thought they were far enough away, you started to move, slowly and quietly, going to sneak up on them and take them out before they could do the same to you. 

But as you drew close, you heard it. The clicking. 

You gasped, close enough to the strange men that they heard it and close enough to the clickers that they did, too. 

“Move!” The larger man snapped out of his moment of shock first, shooting forward and grabbing you and throwing you to the side before shooting at the incoming infected. You scrambled to get back up, fumbling to get the knife you’d been readying to thrust into that man’s back. 

It turned out, you didn’t need it. At least, not for the infected. The two men made quick work of the clickers and turned to you, your knife raised and ready to take at least one of them down with you. 

“The fuck are you doin’ out here?” The larger man said instead. 

“The fuck do you think?” You snapped. “Go on, do it! Kill me, take my shit, whatever it is you’re going to do…” 

“Don’t much like killing women,” he said, looking to the other man, their guns still in hand but pointed to the ground. They looked alike, these two. Like they could be related. 

“What, because I’m a woman you think I’m not a threat?” You asked, brows raised before realizing that you probably shouldn’t be egging on the large, armed men in front of you. 

“Not really, princess,” the younger man said, voice teasing, and you considered throwing your knife at him. 

“Should count yourself lucky that we don’t,” the older man said. “Why don’t you come with us, out pickin’ up just a few things and then headin’ back to the QZ…” 

“Right,” you scoffed. “Because I really wanna live under fucking FEDRA.” 

“Guessing you want to live,” he said. “Got news for you, princess. Even we’re steerin’ clear of this area of Boston after this. Lot more infected than we bargained for. Your little hideout ain’t gonna be safe much longer. Assuming you want to keep on living, QZ’s your best bet.” 

“And you’re just, what, inviting me along out of the goodness of your heart?” You scoffed. “Please.” 

“Don’t much like killing women and don’t much like leaving people to die, either,” the other man said. “Seem capable enough. Come with us, at least out of this part of the city. Would rather not have you added to the infected population.” 

You ground your teeth for a moment, considering. They could easily over power you. You were out numbered, out gunned and they were both large and strong. 

But… you had been noticing more and more infected lately. You hadn’t left your hideout in almost two weeks and you were low on supplies. Part of the reason you hadn’t dared venture out in so long was the seemingly constant press of infected you could see from the best vantage points in your building. You’d been starting to worry that you wouldn’t have a good opportunity to leave for supplies again. And, if you did, you were starting to worry your home would be overrun when you got back. 

These two were the closest thing you had to a safe option out. 

So, you took it. The pair introduced themselves and you were right, they were related. Joel and Tommy Miller, smugglers who lived inside the Boston QZ. They were strong, smart, capable. Handsome, too, not that it really mattered. What mattered much more was your ability to keep each other alive. 

And, it turned out, you were useful to them. Enough that they wanted you around as help for other runs outside the QZ. It made sense, you knew certain corners of the QZ better than anyone else seemed to. It had been your territory - at least, in some way - for a long time. 

Then, it happened. You’d taken to calling it ‘the incident’ for lack of any better word. You were out on a smuggling run with Joel and another man, Harvey. In spite of the fact that you’d been working together for years, Joel had never really warmed up to you. He tolerated you at best and it seemed like growling was his preferred form of communication where you were involved but you always made it back to the QZ in one piece when you went out together. You watched each other’s backs - you were proud that your kill count was higher than his and that you were almost positive he’d be dead by now if it weren’t for you. 

The three of you were at the edge of the city, heading to rendezvous with someone from a small settlement in New York State when you heard it, the first, distinctive shriek of infected. 

Suddenly, there were dozens of them, maybe more than 100, far more than you were capable of handling even if you had unlimited ammunition. 

And, like a fool, you froze. 

You’d scouted ahead and saw no signs of them, no indication of anything more than one or two strays that had been ambling around. You had no idea where they’d come from or how they’d come to be here but that didn’t matter. They were here, they were bearing down on you and you couldn’t seem to make your body move, the shock of the sight making you completely shut down. 

It was Joel who saved you. 

“Move!” He’d grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and thrown you behind him as he fired at the infected, pressing back as quickly as he could while laying down cover fire. Harvey joined him, their guns up and blazing as you tried to force your body to listen to you. “Fucking run!” 

Your limbs decided to obey then and you moved as quickly as you could, turning and firing behind you when it felt like you had a moment to spare. 

But you misjudged that moment once. Just once, but that’s all it took. Infected were closer behind you than you realized and Joel dove in between you and the reaching, groping thing. 

“Joel!” You shrieked, desperately trying to get a shot off that wouldn’t hit Joel as he strained to hold back the runner who was snarling near his throat. You were about to shoot when Harvey tackled the creature, knocking it off of Joel but into the mass of infected that was closing in quickly. 

They swarmed him and he screamed and you took aim as Joel scrambled to his feet. He shoved you on before you could fire and you stretched to shoot around him but he nearly threw you away from the swarming monsters and your screaming companion. 

“He’s gone!” Joel yelled as you stared at him, aghast. “He’s gone, we have to fucking move, now go!” 

You kept turning, looking back toward the sound of the snarling and the screams. 

“We have to go back!” you said. “We can’t just leave him like that, we have to at least shoot him we can’t just leave him, we…” 

“You should’ve thought of that before you fucked up!” He kept pushing you forward, toward the QZ. “No point in gettin’ us killed to save a man who’s already dead.” 

Joel had gone from seemingly finding you to be a nuisance to hating you then. He refused to even be in the same room as you let alone leave the QZ with you again. 

It took you a long time, after that split, to figure out how to survive. You’d become dependent on the cards you got from smuggling to get by but you couldn’t leave the QZ on your own and expect to make it back in one piece, not with how things had devolved with raiders and infected in recent years. You found a small group who was going out from time to time - which is how you met Tess - and you cobbled together a living. 

You never worked with Joel again. 

At least, not until now. 

You sighed and perched in the window, watching the QZ go by and thinking of the best way out of the city once the sun went down. You tried not to think about the likelihood that Joel would kill you while you were outside. 

It was a long walk ahead of the both of you, 30 miles each way through infected no man’s land, not that raiders hadn’t been trying their damndest to get a foothold. But you had a connection there who had been growing marijuana and had a hell of a crop they were willing to trade for plenty of ammunition and antibiotics. You’d been orchestrating this trade with Tess for weeks, both of you carefully avoiding the sore subject of Joel. The initial plan had been you and her heading out but then Joel beat the shit out of a FEDRA guard for some imagined offense and they were suddenly without the connections they needed and suddenly, Joel became part of the plan. Lucky you. 

Once darkness started to fall, you picked up a little stone that was stuck in the frame of the cracked window. You took careful aim and flicked it, watching it sail to hit Joel square on the forehead. He twitched in his sleep, grimacing, but he didn’t wake. 

You looked around a moment, searching for something else to use against him. You found it in the form of a wad of paper that you had to stretch to reach but you did. You tightened the ball and aimed, throwing it. It didn’t make it quite as far, bouncing off his hands as they sat folded at the base of his chest. He didn’t even flinch at that. 

“Dammit,” you muttered, looking around again. You found a rubber band then, perking up a little as you picked it up. You arranged it carefully on your fingers, pulling it back and aiming it like a gun, targeting Joel’s nose. His oddly beautiful nose. Not that you ever really thought that way about him, of course. You shot the rubber band and it flew, snapping right where you’d aimed it. He jerked awake and you turned quickly so it seemed like you were just looking outside into the night. 

“Wha…” He mumbled. 

You turned your head to look at him as he sat up, seemingly disoriented. 

“You hit me with somethin’?” He asked. 

“What would I hit you with, Joel?” You asked. “I was about to come wake you up, though. Can’t get a late start because of your lazy ass…” 

“Show you lazy…” he muttered, hefting himself up off the sofa. “Let’s move.” 

You gave Joel this much, the man was efficient. You’d forgotten just how efficient in the years it had been since you’d last worked together. He cut through the QZ quickly and smoothly, the knowledge of routes run by FEDRA guards seemingly innate as he knew exactly when and where to avoid and how to do it. In what seemed like no time at all, you were outside the walls and starting into the ruins of the city. 

“Got a safe house about an hour’s walk,” he said, setting an almost punishing pace as you moved alongside him. “We get there, wait for daylight, press on in the morning.” 

“Oh, because you’re the decision maker?” You asked, brows raised, even though you agreed with him. “Just expect me to fall in line…” 

“You know what, princess?” He rounded on you, forcing you back into the wall of a building you were passing. “You’re lucky I came out here with you after the shit you’ve pulled…” 

“Shit I pulled? I fucked up!” You all but yelled at him. “I know it! I think about that all the fucking time, that he’d still be alive if it weren’t for me! I don’t need you to fucking remind me, I know what I did and I’m sure you’re fucking perfect and that no one’s ever died because you fucked up…” 

“You don’t know a goddamn thing,” he growled, pressing closer to you for a moment and his eyes were dark and dangerous. For a moment, you thought he might kill you. Or kiss you. He didn’t do either. Instead, he just stepped back, looking you up and down once. “Keep your shit together this time. Don’t want to die because of you.” 

Tears burned your throat and eyes and you swallowed them and walked a few steps behind Joel, trying to keep an eye out for signs of infected and raiders and trying to make sure that Joel didn’t die. Even if it was just out of spite. 

The next day was easier than you expected, too. You made it quickly out of the safe house in the morning and dodged a hoard of infected, skirting around the writhing mass of them lying on the street. You didn’t really feel like you could breathe until you were outside the city, where the air was cleaner and you didn’t feel the specter of what happened years ago looming over you. 

You and Joel mostly ignored each other, watching the tree line as you kept an eye out for whatever might be lurking for you there. But, every now and then, you thought you caught Joel looking at you out of the corner of your eye, his head snapping around the moment you seemed to take notice. 

After walking for most of the day and covering 20 miles, the two of you stopped and made camp, Joel deeming it safe enough to make a small fire. You watched him after the two of you had eaten and settled, the light casting flickering shadows on his face. 

Joel, you were almost loathe to admit, was an incredibly good looking man. There was a roughness to him that you found almost comforting in the world you were both trapped in but there was beauty to him, too. The symmetry of his features, the plush of his lips, the cut of his jaw. You wondered what he was like before all this, not just when he was younger but before this world had a chance to sink its teeth into him. Maybe you would have been friends then. Maybe something more than friends. 

“How’d you end up smuggling?” You asked, not able to keep sitting here in silence any more. 

“What?” He asked, looking up from where he was cleaning his gun. 

“Smuggling,” you said. “Doubt you were born a smuggler and you don’t seem like you were a drug mule or something in the before times. How’d you end up doing it?” 

“How does anyone end up doin’ anything?” He asked. “Needed cards, people needed drugs. If people want to pay me for ‘em, I’m not about to argue.” 

“So that’s it,” you said. “You woke up one morning and thought to yourself ‘I think I’m going to tell FEDRA to fuck off today by running drugs’ and started a whole new career.” 

He sighed but didn’t say anything. 

“I don’t buy it,” you continued, sitting back against the tree you were propped against. “There’s something else…” 

“Not your business if there is.” 

“So there is something else!” You said, almost smug. “I’m on the right track, excellent.” 

“You always this nosy?” 

“Usually,” you said. “Let’s see… Maybe Joel Miller just likes an excuse to hit things.” He scoffed but didn’t say anything. “Not that? Interesting… Maybe Joel Miller gets off on breaking the rules. Is that it? You have authority issues?” 

“Can we go back to not fuckin’ talking?” He asked. 

“Not authority issues then,” you nodded, ignoring him. “Well, that leaves just one other theory.” 

You were quiet, looking away from Joel and fighting the urge to smirk as you did. It only took a minute of silence before he sighed. 

“Goddammit,” he said. “What. What’s your theory.” 

You let the smirk happen then, looking back at him. 

“That Joel Miller doesn’t feel alive unless he’s about to die,” you said. “And that Joel Miller needs to feel something so he decides to do the thing that almost kills him because what else is there to have?” 

He watched you for a moment, his eyes hot and angry, before he looked back at his gun. 

You laughed once. 

“So predictable…” 

“And why do you do it?” He asked, looking up at you, the rage barely contained on his features. “Must have a reason, right? Livin’ outside the QZ as long as you did, fuckin’ around outside it now, what is it? You got some kind of death wish?” 

“Yes,” you said, looping your arms around your knees. He blinked at you in surprise for a moment and you laughed a little. “I’m not nearly as mysterious as you, it’s not some secret…” 

“Why?” He cut you off, gun set aside now. You frowned but he pressed on. “You got a life, why do you want to just throw it away…” 

“You call what I have a life?” You asked, brows raised. “Never thought you’d be so generous in regards to anything related to me…” 

“Ain’t it?” He asked. “Sure, it’s not what it was before, can’t just do what we did then but…” 

“You think that’s it?” You gaped at him. “That I miss being able to go to fucking happy hour with my coworkers or grab dinner at Chili’s so I might as well drop dead?” 

“That’s not…” 

“I lost people, Joel,” you snapped. “I know everybody did but when I say I lost people, I mean I lost everyone. By the time you and Tommy found me, there wasn’t a single person left on Earth I knew. My parents turned in the outbreak, they bit my brother and his wife and their daughter. I survived with my fiance for a while but he got shot by a FEDRA officer when we were trying to make our way to the fucking QZ and then I was alone. I stayed out there because, what, was I supposed to go live with the people who killed him? No thanks. What the fuck is there? So yeah, you know what? I smuggle shit. I like the risk. I like telling FEDRA to fuck off. I like being able to handle myself because I’m the only thing I can count on. Don’t act so fucking surprised that I’m not thrilled with life in the QZ just because you brought me there.” 

Joel was quiet for a moment and you just squared your jaw and looked away, arms crossed tightly over your chest. You knew you shouldn’t let Joel get to you the way he did - especially not after you’d picked at him and pushed him here - but he got under your skin the way no one else left alive really seemed to. You hadn’t spoken to anyone about your fiance, not in years. It was a wound you’d long set aside, a casualty in the war on humanity that had hollowed you out so much that it seemed like you couldn’t really feel anything unless you were on the edge of your own destruction. Or, apparently, picking a fight with Joel fucking Miller.

“Could be worse,” he said eventually. 

“Yeah, well.” 

“M’sorry.” 

You looked at him then, brows knitted together. 

“What?” 

“Said I’m sorry,” he said, voice a little gruff. “Didn’t… didn’t know. Wasn’t trying to… I’m sorry.” 

You blinked for a moment, trying to get your bearings. Of everything you’d expected to hear out of Joel Miller’s mouth, I’m sorry wasn’t it. 

“I’m sorry, too,” you said eventually. “If you want to talk…” 

“I don’t.” 

“Right,” you nodded. “Well…” 

“I got first watch,” he said, picking his gun back up. “Get some sleep.” 

The next day, you reached the trade you’d arranged, the woman you’d run into a few times when outside the QZ there with her partner. They hauled so much marijuana out - wrapped tightly in old newspaper - that they had to use wagons to carry it all. You unloaded your haul and the trade went smoothly, Joel lurking toward the back and standing guard, keeping a surly watch over the whole proceeding the entire time. It took some doing to pack all the pot into your bags but you managed it, thanking the couple and starting back toward the QZ. 

You were close to where you’d stopped the night before when it happened, the snarl of infected crawling over your skin. 

“Fuck,” you slung your rifle down from its place over your shoulder and turned to where the sound was coming from, seeing a cluster of at least a dozen infected moving for you. You shot, catching the first in the head and you watched it drop. 

“Go!” Joel yelled, planting his feet and taking aim. 

“Fuck you!” You snapped, ignoring him and shooting. “I can handle myself.” 

He growled at that but didn’t say anything else. Instead you stood with him, side by side, trying to pick off the group that was charging for you. For a moment, you thought you’d done it, that you were in the clear. 

And then, Joel’s gun jammed. 

You realized it when you didn’t hear any more gunfire coming from beside you as the remaining infected drew closer. 

“Joel!” Your eyes darted his way and you saw him trying to force the lever back, to no avail. He looked to you and the infected and back to you, his jaw squared. 

“Get back to the QZ,” he said, not giving you a chance to respond. Instead, he charged forward, gun held not like a firearm but a staff and he swung it, hard, so the butt of it slammed into the skull of an infected as three others dove for him. 

“Fuck!” You yelled, ignoring him again. Like hell he was going down out here like this, like fuck you were letting this asshole die for you. You took careful aim, taking down infected that you were confident you could headshot without putting Joel at risk, just one bullet going wide and exploding on the bark of a nearby tree, the rest finding their mark. And then he was on the ground, just one infected left, too close to him for you to be able to shoot and it wasn’t that you chose to do it, not really. It was more like instinct, flying forward, shedding your backpack and dropping your gun as you did, wrenching your knife from its place at your hip and jumping onto the back of the creature, your arms going around its neck as you yanked back on it, hard. 

Your weight threw it off balance and it shrieked, starting to claw at you, twisting in your hold to see if it could sink its teeth into your skin. It bit as best it could at your arms but the thick of your coat kept it from getting any further and you struggled to adjust your knife to drive it into the thing’s neck but you couldn’t get it, not without letting it go.

“Goddammit!” Joel was panting for breath and you could barely see him out of the corner of your eye as he scrambled to his feet. You tightened your grip on the infected, the stink of the rot of it from the inside out making you gag, and it slammed you back into a tree, catching you off guard. You barely registered the sound of your skull hitting the wood before you passed out. 

***

You didn’t listen. You never fucking listened, why could you never fucking listen? 

You were the single most infuriating person Joel had ever met. Stubborn as hell, independent to a fault, seemingly desperate to pick every fight you could find. Of course you didn’t fucking listen to him. You never had before, why would you start now? 

Seeing you that close to infected - again - was terrifying. 

This was why he didn’t want to go out like this with you. This, right here. Because he knew you wouldn’t listen, he knew you’d wind up in this situation, knew he’d have to deal with the fear and the pain of you dying when it was his fucking fault why couldn’t you just fucking listen?

He’d thrown himself at the infected to give you a chance. One of you was probably going to die out here and he wasn’t about to let it be you. Not when he’d already done so much, gone so far to try to make sure you fucking survived. Because dammit, if he couldn’t make sure one of the few people he actually cared about actually lived, what was the damn point? 

But did you take the chance he was giving you? No. Of course you didn’t. 

And all he could do was watch in horror as the thing you’d jumped on top of slammed you into a tree with a sickening thud, one he could hear above the snarling and snapping of jaws. Your body went limp and you slid from its back to the earth, landing in an unnatural looking way. No one who was in control of their limbs fell like that. His blood was ice and he moved without considering, roaring as he ripped his knife from his belt and tackled the infected who was turning to go after your throat. He hit it so hard he rolled with it, the creature’s mouth reaching for him as he held it back. They came to rest on the ground, that thing on top of him and Joel slammed his knife into its neck again and again, until it went quiet and still and Joel was bloodied and panting for breath. 

He shoved it off him and he half crawled to you as he got to his feet, not willing to wait until he was standing to start moving. You were still when he reached you, your head thrown back, half on your side, mouth open. 

“No, no, c’mon,” he pulled your coat open to get at your chest to try to do what he thought was CPR - not like there were fucking certifications for it in the QZ - but, when he did, he realized you were breathing. He lowered his head near your mouth and could hear the soft, shallow sound of your life and he sat back on his heels, taking a deep breath. 

So he hadn’t gotten you killed. Not yet, anyway. At least there was that. He let himself sit with the relief for a moment before checking you over, looking at your throat and wrists for signs of a bite but didn’t find any. Another lucky moment. 

“Alright princess,” he said, tapping your cheek lightly. “C’mon. We gotta get movin’, let’s go.” You stayed still. His stomach twisted. “Know you like to fuck with me but now ain’t the time, we need to get out of here, time to wake up…” 

He half expected you to respond then. You’d love this, the fact that he was damn near panicking because you were hurt. He knew you’d want to draw it out. 

But you wouldn’t be stupid about it. You wouldn’t put them at risk, not really. 

“Fuck,” he swore, adjusting your limp body as best he could before lifting you to his chest. The hair at the back of your head was matted with blood. He tried not to think about what that might mean. “S’alright. You’re gonna be fine, just… You’ll be OK.” 

He kept thinking that, over and over, as he carried you, looking for somewhere he could protect you for a while. 

It took him time to find it, a farmhouse with overgrown fields that looked like it hadn’t been touched in years. The door was hanging open, creaking on its hinges, and Joel brought you to the kitchen island, setting you gently on the dust-covered formica. 

“Stay there for a minute,” he said, leaning against the counter to recover his strength and his breath for a moment. “Gotta… gotta make sure we don’t got company.” 

He went through the house room by room, barricading the doors on the ground floor and pleasantly surprised to find most of the top floor intact, no holes in the roof or broken windows. He gathered some blankets from the main bedroom and carried them down to where he’d left you. He propped your head up gently, pouring some water on a cloth and cleaning the cut there with care before covering you with a quilt and pulling a kitchen chair up beside you. He checked to make sure you were still breathing before sitting down, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, hands folded almost in prayer. 

He should have told Tess to fuck off. He knew better, when it came to you. There was a reason he’d avoided you ever since that day everything had gone wrong. Hell, he’d been avoiding you before that, too. 

From the moment he’d met you, he liked you a little too much. You were the exact kind of woman he’d gone for before, one who was capable and strong and a total fucking smart ass. He liked a woman who challenged him, one who made him think. You did those things, you did those things like it was second fucking nature, all while being one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, before the outbreak or after. 

He knew he had to keep his distance from the beginning, that he’d get too attached if he let himself. But you were a valuable partner, so he did his best to keep you at arm’s reach while going on runs with you and his brother. He thought that had been enough, that he’d done a good job of protecting himself from the disaster that waited at the end of any form of attachment in the life he led now. 

And then he saw you freeze in the face of infected. 

He was so afraid in that moment that it shocked him how fast he made the call. The decision to put his body between you and the infected was an easy one. He wanted to make it back to the QZ, to his brother he’d found some reason to live for over the last few years, but he wouldn’t want that if you didn’t come back, too. But you didn’t fucking listen then, either, too busy trying to do the same damn thing he’d have done in your position. If you hadn’t been with him, he’d have tried to save Harvey. He was a good man, he’d watched Joel’s back plenty, Tommy’s too. He deserved a better end than the one he got. 

Joel just couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t risk you. 

He let himself rage at you about it. Even though it wasn’t your fault, none of it had been. He’d known it then but even more so after. Years later, outside the QZ, he watched as a large hoard worked its way south for the winter, just passing through. You couldn’t have seen them coming, no one could have. 

He never told you that. Because, after the day you froze, he was far enough away from you that he wasn’t going to have to watch you die and he wasn’t going to have to carry the blame if you did. He couldn’t do that again. He knew that much of himself, he knew what he wasn’t capable of surviving. If you were out of reach, he’d have room to breathe. 

But you were still leaving the QZ. He hadn’t known that, at first. He’d just assumed you’d stay put and take the shitty jobs FEDRA offered to get by. He hadn’t even known that Tess knew you, not for years. It wasn’t even her that told him you were still smuggling, it had been a FEDRA guard. He’d overheard your name when Tess was handling a trade and put two and two together. He damn near marched over to your apartment that second and demanded to know what the fuck you were thinking. But he didn’t. He kept it together, he kept listening for news of you, kept waiting for the day that he knew was waiting for him, the one where you didn’t come back and he’d find out about it from some other smuggler or some asshole guard who found out when you didn’t show up with his supply of pills.

And then your name came up when he was trading with a FEDRA guard. It was a small deal, some pills for cigarettes and liquor, just enough for one guy. He was a new client of Joel’s, one he was happy to have. His demand was low and he was good leverage for bringing shit through the gates, turning a blind eye for a good deal on drugs. He just hadn’t seemed to learn quite yet that Joel wasn’t a friend. 

“You know other smugglers, right?” He asked, glancing at Joel as he counted the pills out in his palm. As though Joel was stupid enough to short change a fucking FEDRA officer. 

“Suppose,” Joel shrugged. “Why?” 

“There’s this one…” he talked about a woman who was coming and going, one who was cocky and beautiful and hadn’t caved to his demands for sex the last time she came through and he tried to blackmail her. Joel ground his teeth but kept quiet as he prattled on, eventually pocketing the pills and handing over the cigarettes and booze. “Anyway, wondering if you think she’s the type who’ll give in or should I stop wasting my time and just take it?” 

Joel’s hands curled into fists. 

“Take it?” Joel asked. “Take what, exactly.” 

He looked at Joel, incredulous. 

“C’mon,” he said. “You know. They never fight too hard against a uniform but it’s more fun when they’re at least a little willing.” 

Joel’s punch came so quickly the man didn’t have time to put his hands up. He took him to the ground fast, blow after blow raining down on the man’s face until the air smelled like copper and his knuckles were split. The man gargled on his own blood below him, desperate gasps that sounded something like “please” but he couldn’t be sure. Joel grabbed him by the collar, his head lolling limply to the side as he tried to breathe. One of his teeth was hanging on my a thread.

“Keep your fuckin’ hands to yourself,” Joel panted. “Tell your fuckin’ friends. I hear about any of you messing with women around here? I’ll kill you.” 

Joel dropped him back to the ground and flexed his fingers. He thought he might have broken part of his hand. Wouldn’t be the first time. At least this one was worth it. 

“Pleasure doin’ business with you,” he said, fishing around in the man’s pocket and taking a pill from him. He popped it in his mouth, chalky and bitter on his tongue. “For my trouble.” 

He left the man there in the alley, knowing full well that he’d just shot his whole team in the foot. He didn’t much care. 

The irony that it had landed him here, outside the QZ with you unconscious and your haul on the forest floor was almost too biting. Maybe he deserved it. Maybe he’d been doing this wrong all along. 

You groaned and Joel’s head shot up as you started stirring on the counter, your hand going to the injured part of your skull. 

“Easy,” he said gently, getting up slowly so he wouldn’t startle you. “Took a nasty hit to the head, you were out for a while.” 

“Ow.” 

Joel laughed a little at that. 

“Glad you think it’s funny,” you said, sitting up. He rushed to help you and you gave him an incredulous look as his hands found your back and your hand. “Jesus, I feel like I got put through a meat grinder…” 

“Well, s’long as you ain’t bitten, think we can handle that,” he said, taking his hands back now that you were sitting up. 

“Amen to that,” you said, stretching a bit before looking him over and then looking around, a small frown on your face. “Where are we?” 

“Farmhouse,” Joel said, shoving his hands in his pockets just to give them something to do. “Think about a mile from where we were. Can find our way back OK. I’ll have to, your pack is still out there.” 

“Shit,” you said. “Yeah, we can’t afford to come back without it, I traded my entire stash for my share of the pot…” 

“We’ll find it,” he said. “Don’t think anyone else is comin’ through here any time too soon.” 

You nodded slowly before looking back to him, your eyebrows knitting together before you flinched, your hand going to the back of your head again. 

“Will you actually listen for a change and take it easy?” He asked, going to check the wound. “Jesus, bane of my fuckin’ existence, not doing a goddamn thing I tell you…” 

“Why are you still here?” You asked, ignoring him yet again, fingers finding the gash on your head and tugging at it until it started bleeding again. Joel sighed before pulling your hand away. “Hell, why’d you bring me here at all? You just said I’m the bane of your existence, why the fuck did you go through this much trouble? You could have just left me there, taken my pack, kept all the haul for yourself…” 

“You really think I’m capable of that?” He asked, brows raised. He knew he hadn’t exactly been kind to you over the years but fuck, he didn’t think it was that bad. He pressed the wet cloth to your head again, watching as the red filtered over it. 

You shrugged. 

“Jesus,” he muttered. “Yeah, alright, you piss me off more than… shit, about anyone else I’ve ever met. You’re the bane of my existence…” 

“So…” 

“Will you let me talk?” He snapped. “Fuck, woman, always gotta be right, always gotta have the last damn word, always gotta do whatever’s gonna get you into the most trouble…” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry that I managed to save your fucking life today,” you snapped back. “Please forgive me!” 

“I don’t want you saving my life if it costs you yours!” He yelled. 

You pulled back from him sharply, eyes wide as you blinked at him in shock. He shook his head and pulled the cloth away from your skin. At least the bleeding had stopped again. 

“Don’t fuck with it anymore,” he said, dropping the bloody fabric to the counter. “Gotta leave it alone so it can start to heal, head wounds bleed like a motherfucker…” 

“Joel,” you said quietly, watching him. 

“What.” 

“Joel,” you said again, eyes still on him. “You… What did you mean you don’t want me saving your life if it costs…” 

“I don’t…” He cut you off before he took a deep, centering breath. “I don’t want anybody dying for me but… Christ, it can’t be you. Yeah, you’re the bane of my existence, you piss me off so much sometimes I swear it’s like you got a goddamn degree in just how to do it but you make me feel more alive than anything else left and I can’t…” His heart was pounding so hard it felt like a bruise. “I can’t lose you, especially not when I could stop it. Not when I could save you. I need you to stay alive, OK? I don’t want anyone else to piss me off the way you do, I want you to be the one getting under my skin every goddamn day…” 

“Joel…” 

“Still not gonna let me finish?” He gaped at you. “Fuck, I’m tryin’ to…” 

You didn’t let him finish that time, either. Instead, you kissed him, your arms going around his neck and pulling him roughly against you, your lips so soft and warm and demanding on his that it felt like you were trying to swallow him whole. 

It was like the logical part of his mind only worked for half a second after that. He knew, in that moment, that he should probably hold you back. Talk things out, make sure you didn’t hurt yourself - you’d just had a head injury for fuck’s sake - but that part of him vanished, consumed by you and the way you kissed him like you were trying to climb inside his skin. 

His arms went around you, pulling you to the very edge of the island so your pussy was pressed tight against his quickly hardening cock. 

He couldn’t help but grind himself against you, the zipper of his jeans harsh contrast to just how soft he knew your pussy would be and the last bit of resolve he should have held snapped. Your fingers fumbled at the snaps on his coat, pulling it open before going to the buttons on his shirt and he did the same, desperate to get at your skin and suddenly not caring that it was nearly freezing or that the two of you had nearly died not all that long ago.

His hands found your breasts, sliding inside the cups of your bra to cradle the soft warmth of them and you moaned into his mouth when his thumbs found your nipples, gently brushing them before working them in little circles as they pricked against his skin. 

Joel had tried to not think about this with you. It was tempting, always tempting, but he knew better. He tried to limit his thoughts of you to frustration and anger but he often failed at that. He had failed at it often enough that he had an idea of how you would feel in his hands, how you would taste on his tongue. He thought he would have known enough to be prepared for it if it ever happened. 

He wasn’t. 

You were, somehow, so much better than he’d ever let himself imagine. You were so goddamn soft, like the whole of you had been spun out of silk, tenuous and tender. There was something almost inherently wrong in how he was touching something as soft as you but he shoved that nagging guilt aside, too obsessed with feeling more of you. If this was how your tits felt in his hands, how your lips felt on his, how your hands felt in his hair, he had to feel inside you. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to think about anything else if he didn’t get to be inside of you, his mind would always be trying to create the way you would feel, to know how warm you would be, how safe he would feel in you and how calming it would be to know that you were safe, too, because nothing could reach you if he was there inside you, nothing. 

His hands reluctantly left your breasts and slid down to your waist, finding the button on your jeans. You quickly, clumsily kicked off your boots and lifted your ass from the countertop so he could slide your jeans and panties down, leaving you all wet and swollen and bared for him. 

“Fuck,” he panted, looking down at you for a moment before reaching one callused finger forward and almost reverently tracing your dripping slit. You groaned, your head going back in pleasure, your hips almost jumping toward him. 

“Joel,” you whispered, voice so goddamn needy. The sound went straight to his cock, skin stretched tight and balls aching. “Please…” 

“I’ve got you baby,” he said, opening his pants and tucking his jeans and underwear below his throbbing sex. “Make you feel so good, just…” 

He took his cock and brushed the head against you and you looked down to where he was about to push inside you and gasped. 

“Holy fuck,” you panted, looking at him, your eyes wide. “Joel, you’re… Are you going to fit?” 

“I’ll fit, baby,” he said, looking down again and notching the head of him inside your wet heat. You groaned as you stretched around him, fingers digging into the skin at his nape. He pushed the first inch of himself inside and stopped, looking back to you. He took your face his hand and your eyes searched his, desperate longing written there. “Just watch me, I’ve got you.” 

You didn’t say anything, you, just nodded quickly. His other hand went to the small of your back, angling you just so as he started to thrust into you, pushing in a little and then pulling back before going again, claiming more and more of you with each stroke until he was fully within you. He stilled inside you and pressed his forehead to yours, your eyes on his own, close enough that he could feel the warmth of your breath on his skin. 

He’d been right. Inside, you were fucking perfection. He could feel how you stretched over him, how your body perfectly took and held his own. You were so soft there it seemed impossible, like the world should have destroyed anything this delicate and supple. But you felt so like you, too. The heat of you was almost overwhelming, the strength of you sharp and clear when your cunt fluttered over him, already nearing your orgasm with telltale little spasms holding him tight.  He wanted to consume you and be consumed, devour and be devoured and he needed to fuck you deep and hard and leave part of himself inside of you or he might never think of anything else ever again. 

“Fuck, Joel,” your breaths were sharp and shaky. “I’m so… you’re so big, I’m so full, I… You have to move, I need you to fuck me, please fuck me, please, I need…” 

“I’ve got you, baby,” he said, gently angling your head just so. “Give you just what you need.” 

He kissed you as he started fucking into you, setting an almost punishing pace as he moved inside you. He drank down your desperate groans, savored the way your fingers scrabbled over his shoulders and neck and back, got lost in the spread of your thighs as you kept trying to take him somehow deeper. As if there was more of you for him to take, as if there was more of himself to give. 

Your channel grew tight over him and he knew he wasn’t going to last once you came but he was afraid he wasn’t going to even make it that far. He’d already given up on pulling out, he’d deal with the whatever fallout came from filling you up, but he had to feel you come when he was inside you. He was desperate for it, needed to feel how you’d draw so tight over him and pull his come from his body into yours, he needed it. He drove deep and found the spot inside you that made your legs clench a little tighter, fingers clutch a little harder. He pressed into it and held himself there, more rocking into you than fucking into you, grinding the head of him into the very softest part of you as your cunt drew tighter and tighter over him and you pulled away from his lips to cry out as you came. You throbbed around him and he could feel every part of you there, the pulsing of your body and the satisfaction of your cries damn near ripping his own orgasm from him. 

He pulled you close and tight as he came, feeling like his whole being was pulled down low and sharp inside him as he spilled deep into you. Your arms loosened on him but you still held him gently as he all but collapsed into you, his head on your shoulder as he panted for breath. 

“Fuck,” he managed after a moment, still deep inside you. 

“Yeah,” you laughed a little. 

He sat back from you, eyes searching yours again now that you’d both started coming back down to Earth. You reached up and ran your fingers through his curls, brushing them back from his face as he started to notice the cold air again for the first time. 

“Bane of your existence, huh?” You asked, teasing lightly. 

“Yeah,” he said, smiling a little. “My whole damn existence.” 

You smiled a little back. 

“Think I can work with that.” 

[slut4thebroken]

The Recipe

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Emmett x wife!reader

Summary | Emmett can’t keep his hands off you.

Warnings | Smut, praise, degradation, semi rough sex, breeding, cunnilingus, huuuge housewife kink, he’s very possessive but we love it

Words | 2k

Notes | Finally posting something 😭

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

More of these two

moodboard @liliesdiary

“That smells amazing, doll, what is it?” He walked over and gave you a quick kiss before finally setting down his bag, then taking off his jacket and hat. 

“I’m trying to recreate that one pasta dish we had when we went to that fancy place a few months ago cause I keep craving it.” You smiled, keeping your focus on the stove. He did his best to stay out of your way in the small kitchen as he walked past you to get to the fridge and grab a beer. 

“Fuck- and this dress.” He groaned. You heard a can open, then he was walking closer and smacking your ass. You had to bite your lip to control your sounds, not wanting to get distracted and mess up the meal when you were finally almost done making it. “I didn’t forget a date, did I?” He wrapped his arm around your stomach and nuzzled into your neck, teasingly kissing over it. 

“No.” You chuckled. “I got lunch with Evelyn earlier.” You could practically feel the pout on his lips against your neck. 

“You went out wearing this without me? All of the guys were probably all over you.” He grumbled. 

“Emmett, this town is tiny. Everyone knows we’re married.” 

“As if that’d stop them.” He scoffed, even though it seemed like he also knew he was being a little irrational. 

“Go wash up. I should be done in a few minutes.” He groaned and tightened his grip around you, beginning to kiss your neck more enthusiastically. “Emmett..” You warned, making him huff but step away to go do what you said. 

Once the table was set, you filled up two plates and set them down, then grabbed your own drink as Emmett walked back in. Dinner was mostly uneventful. He told you about work, you told him about the gossip that Evelyn shared with you. He told you about his latest idea for how to improve the house, you told him he had to finish his current project before starting a new one. 

“How was it?” You asked, taking both plates to the sink. 

“Amazing, doll. Tasted exactly like the  restaurant’s.” 

You scoffed a laugh, hearing him chuckle quietly. “You’re a shit liar.” 

“It was still good either way.” 

“Do you want to do the dishes or should I?” You and Emmmett had a system; either one person cooked and the other cleaned, or one person cooked and cleaned and the other did the same the next day.

“I think I’ll make that steak you got, so you go ahead.” He said, knowing that you didn’t know how to clean a grill. “Plus I want to watch you in that dress.” You could hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke. 

“I don’t know why I married such a pervert.” You scoffed teasingly as you put the plates and silverware in the dishwasher before starting to handwash the larger dishes. 

“I do.” He paused, walking right up behind you. “Cause you like it. You like that I can’t keep my hands off you.” He placed his hands on your hips, pulling you back so your ass was pressed firmly against the bulge in his jeans. 

“Emmett, let me finish the dishes, then we can move on to that.” You chuckled, still trying to wash everything. 

“I’m not stopping you.” He said simply. His hands dragged down the outsides of your thighs, then back up, pushing the fabric of your dress up to your waist. “Fuck…” He groaned, roughly groping the globes of your ass that were left bare because of your lace thong. You bit your lip and tried to stay focused, but it was getting increasingly more difficult. 

“Are you gonna be a good little wife and let me use you?” He smirked, quickly opening his jeans to remove his already half hard cock. 

“Emmett…” You said through a breath. You couldn’t tell if you were begging him to keep going or warning him to stop though.

“C’mon, baby. I deserve to fuck my girl after a long day of work.” You cursed under your breath and let your head drop down as you held onto the counter. “Do the dishes.” He chastised teasingly. He waited until you continued, then slid your panties to the side and lined up. 

Your knees buckled and your mouth dropped open in a silent moan when he finally pushed in. “Fuck,” You choked out. The stretch was a little uncomfortable, especially in this position, but you were mewling and pushing your hips back into his regardless. 

“Do the dishes.” He said firmly, placing a sharp smack on your ass. “I won’t tell you again.” You let out a low moan at the dominance in his voice. As soon as you continued washing, he was slowly dragging out and pushing back in. Your legs were already shaking and your breathing was already fast and uneven as you tried to cope with the overwhelming pleasure. 

“You make such a perfect little housewife.” He murmured, brushing your hair over one shoulder so he could start kissing the side of your neck. He left marks up and down, his grip tightening on your hips almost painfully. “Cook and clean for me… take my cock whenever I want… You'll even give me some kids when I ask, won’t you?” You sobbed out a moan and let your head fall back on his shoulder. He slapped the side of your thigh, making you whimper loudly at the sting. “Don’t make me tell you again.” He growled. 

With a whine, you lifted your head again and resumed washing. Honestly you were doing a shit job and you’d probably have to do it again once he was done with you. 

“So obedient.” He cooed, gently nipping at your neck. You knew he was just saying all of this for the sake of the scene— Emmett can be old fashioned, but he’s not that old fashioned. Regardless, the longer his cock stayed buried inside you, the more you didn’t mind being his housewife and cock sleeve. 

You almost dropped the pot into the sink when he suddenly sped up. But finally, you finished rinsing the last of the dishes and set it on the towel you laid out earlier. 

“Good girl.” Pulling you to a clear space on the counter, he pushed you down with a hand on the back of your neck and started wildly bucking into you. You almost screamed from the intensity, already feeling your legs turning to jelly, making it harder to hold yourself up. 

Desperately needing to come, you tried to push a hand down to rub your clit, but he twisted your arm behind your back and pinned it there. “If you want to touch my property, you fucking ask.” He growled, his voice only making you needier. 

“Please let me come, Emmett.” You whimpered. He lifted his hand from your neck and brought it down hard on your ass, making you cry out. Without giving any other response, he grabbed your hip as his thrusts grew even more frantic. You could tell he was getting close, especially with the way his sounds started getting louder, and you almost cried at the thought of not getting to come. But… the thought of being nothing more than a submissive housewife and a hole for your husband to use was hot enough that you almost didn’t care. 

You mewled and squirmed a little, making his grip on your body tighten even more. “Please.” You gasped out. His balls were just barely smacking your clit with each thrust, not giving you nearly enough stimulation. Both hands were on your hips now as he bucked into you at a brutal pace, chasing his orgasm. The slapping of skin and both of your moans echoed throughout the kitchen and if you were less horny, you probably would’ve been embarrassed by the faint squelching sound you could hear as your arousal continued to soak his cock. 

His hips stuttered and you whined when he suddenly slammed into you, pushing you into the counter almost painfully as he fell over the edge. Your legs were shaking with each pump of his hips as he lazily fucked his load deep inside your eager pussy. He was grunting and panting against your neck, holding your hips in a bruising grip until he rode out his orgasm completely. 

“Good girl.” He groaned breathily, making you whine again. Only after he caught his breath did he lean up and slowly drag his hips back, making the trembling of your legs even worse. He kicked your feet apart and grabbed your ass to pull you open so he could watch his come trickle out of your puffy folds. 

“Emmett.” You whimpered, but all he did was shush you quietly. Your hips flinched when he dragged his thumb through your slit and he cursed under his breath at the sight of you leaking his come. 

“Oh, look at that.” He cooed, making you blush. “This is how you should’ve gone out today; wearing this slutty little dress with my come dripping down your thighs to remind you who you belong to.” He gruffed. 

“Emmett, please.” You were on the verge of a tantrum now. 

“Shh… It’s okay.” He murmured quietly, standing back up. He pulled you up by your hair and spun you around, then captured your lips in a bruising kiss. “Is my good girl gonna let me have my dessert now?” You nodded dumbly, not really processing his words because you just hoped that agreeing to whatever he said would get him to finally give you some much needed relief. He smirked in amusement, then effortlessly lifted you up so your legs were around his hips, letting him carry you over to the table and gently set you down on it. 

Kneeling between your legs, he wasted no time diving in and sucking on your clit, making you cry out. Your hands settled in his hair and he alternated between lapping up your shared arousal and giving attention to your clit. When he draped your legs over his shoulders and then pulled you closer, you moaned loudly and laid down on the table, your back arching up from the pleasure. Emmett let out a low, gravelly moan against you, making you mewl and tug on his hair even harder. 

“Fuck— Please don’t stop..” You choked out. He devoured you like a man starved, quickly bringing you back to the edge with his enthusiasm. The loud slurping sounds that you could hear through your moans, had you blushing and whining in embarrassment. 

Your legs were trembling on either side of his head, the coil in your stomach was tightening, your moans were getting louder… and Emmett just held your hips down, continuing on, not deterred by any of your reactions. 

“Please let me come.” You whimpered, moaning loudly when he sucked on your clit repeatedly. His lack of a response only made you even more frustrated. Emmett was a little unpredictable about letting you come. Sometimes he didn’t care, but sometimes he could be really controlling over your orgasm, only letting you come after he gave you permission. Ever since the first time you came without permission, you’ve always been hesitant, not wanting to risk being punished. “Emmett, please!”  

He chuckled against you, making your hips jerk against his mouth. “Come.” He mumbled, not bothering to pause or pull away so he could talk. When you finally got his permission, you let the pleasure wash over you, no longer trying to suppress it. The knot of arousal in your stomach snapped suddenly and you sobbed out a moan as your back arched off the table. You had a death grip on Emmett’s hair and your hips were practically grinding on his face, but he worked you through it, not stopping until you were twitching and whining from overstimulation. 

“Good girl.” He groaned, placing one last kiss on your clit. “C’mere, doll.” He helped pull you up into a seated position, then kissed you again, much softer this time. You moaned at the taste of yourself still on his tongue. “Fuck, I love you.” He muttered into the kiss, making you blush a little. “But the next time you go out wearing this dress without my come dripping down your thighs, you won’t be coming for a week.” 

Guys pls give me ideas for a different title lol

[mrsbarnesblog]

Little games

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Gamer! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: you really need to calm down, so you get under Bucky's table while he's playing with his friends.

Words count: 1.4k

Warnings: smut, established relationship, college gamer bucky, blow job, come eating, pet names

Author’s note: even though originally I posted it back in August, I might as well publish it now as a part of the kinktober. enjoy and let me know what you think🩷

It was a long fucking day with too many stupid people that just played on your nerves. You were supposed to study at the library for your exam, but instead you were arguing with people who didn’t know how to properly behave in public places and talk to others

Almost an hour later, your blood was still boiling with anger, and you came to your and Bucky’s apartment, carelessly throwing your bag on the floor and kicking off your shoes. You needed to punch someone, scream, take a hot shower, or just have really good sex. And you knew someone who could help you with the last one. 

You walked into Bucky’s playing room; it was a little bit dark with a few neon lights turned on. He was sitting there with headphones, without a shirt, and only in black shorts. The camera was off; he was just playing with his friends, but he was too fucking hot for his own good.

The urge to climb on Bucky right in his playing chair hit you like lightning. You walked closer, wrapping your hands around his neck from the back and sliding them lower down his firm chest.

“Hey, baby doll.” He pushed back the microphone, giving you a quick look but then going back to his stupid game. You deeply inhaled as another wave of annoyance ran through your body because you didn’t get the attention you wanted. 

“Buck… I’m really angry right now, and I need you.” You mumbled against the hot skin of his neck. 

“Gimme like... ten minutes, doll, ‘kay? I have to finish this, or we’re gonna lose. Love you.” Bucky, not looking away from the monitor, placed a kiss on your cheek, and you heard a muffled sound of Steve’s or Sam’s voice in the headphones. “No-no, it’s nothing—on your back!” Bucky suddenly screamed into the microphone as his body moved forward. 

You rolled your eyes, knowing damn well that this is not for “ten minutes”. You didn’t mind him having such a hobby, but at times like this, you just wanted to throw everything in the trash because it was really hard to get Bucky’s attention during the games. It was obvious that if you wanted to cool down, you needed to take everything in your hands. Well, quite literally.

You stepped to the side of Bucky’s chair before dropping to your knees and getting under his table in well-trained motions. It's not like you haven’t done it before. He probably didn’t even notice it because when you quickly put your hand on his crotch, he jumped in surprise and looked at you with his big baby-blue eyes. 

“What are you doing?!” He whispered so his friends couldn’t hear him.

“I am fucking mad, James, and since you don't want to fuck it out of me, I’ll do everything by myself.” You hissed, dragging his shorts down enough to reveal his semi-hard cock. 

Bucky’s eyes rolled back as soon as your soft hand wrapped around him, and he felt that he became hard almost immediately. Usually, he didn’t miss a single chance to get his hands on you. Bucky was quite literally obsessed with you, and he was ready to have sex with you everywhere and every time, but right now he was in the middle of the game with his friends, who might hear everything. 

His body became hot within a second. His hips unconsciously jerked upwards to meet your hand, and he completely forgot what he was doing, looking at your grinning face in between his legs with a slightly open mouth.

“Barnes, what the fuck are you doing? I almost got killed!” It was probably Sam, you thought, but it didn’t stop you from your intentions.

“Do you hear it, Buck?” You innocently whispered, spitting on the hard cock in your hand to help your slow movements. “Continue playing your little game; I’ll just do my business here.” 

“Erm, nothing, it’s just—Alpine dropped something, I don’t know, got distracted...” Bucky  breathed out into the microphone, trying to stay as calm as possible, his eyes quickly moving between you and the screen. He continued to play, still trying to win the game, even though your hand felt too good and his eyes desperately wanted to close. 

Your smirk grew wider before you leaned closer to his cock and traced the vein on the lower side, going from the bottom to the top and swirling your tongue around the head at the end. You hummed at his taste in your mouth, sending vibrations down his body. 

The reaction was exactly how you wanted it to be. Bucky cursed under his mouth; his head fell back, and you could tell by the way his arms and jaw were tensed that he wanted to moan. Yes, he was always vocal, so teasing him that way felt so good. 

“What is wrong with you, man?” Another voice was heard through the headphones, but Bucky didn’t seem to care.

“Oh, fuck!” Your lips wrapped around his cock, sucking on the tip and looking Bucky directly in the eyes. You knew that it drove him crazy. Bucky completely forgot about his game while different people yelled at him and put his left hand on top of your head, guiding you to get lower. “Just like that...” 

“Who are you talking to?”

“Are you having sex?”

“What the fuck are you doing, Barnes?” 

A bunch of different questions mixed in the group voice chat, and it became so annoying that Bucky just muted the call and pulled his headphones off.

You tried to smile, but it was hard to do in your current position. You lowered your head, taking more of Bucky’s hard cock into your mouth. The hand on your head was firm, but it didn’t push you down. When the tip hit the back of your throat, he loudly moaned and gripped your hair, holding you in place.

“Fuck-fuck-fuck!” You didn’t stop, staying like that for a few seconds even though your vision was already blurred with tears. You pulled back, stroking his cock with your hand again. The mixture of your tears, saliva, and his pre-cum made a mess on your face, but it was the least of your concerns. “You’re so pretty, baby, so good for me. What made you so mad, hm?” You saw how his pink tongue licked his lips, and even more dirty thoughts about your boyfriend’s face in between your legs made you want to whimper and rub your thighs together. 

“Some assholes in the library. Fuck, Bucky, just use my mouth, I need it.” The smirk appeared on his lips again. The hand on your head buried itself into your hair, holding them tightly but not too rough to hurt you, and pushed you back on his waiting cock.

You moaned around him when Bucky didn’t hesitate and started to move your head up and down, hitting the back of your throat every single time. You gripped his thighs, digging your nail into the skin, and relaxed so you wouldn’t choke too much. 

With each thrust, you felt that Bucky was getting closer. The movements became slightly out of rhythm, and he didn’t hold his moans anymore. The phone began to ring, and you both knew that it was one of the guys, but neither of you cared enough to pay attention to it.

“Of fuck—baby, ‘m gonna cum.” You didn’t pull away, and in just a few seconds, you felt the thick and hot liquid filling your mouth. Bucky released your hair, unable to move in his chair, while you took his cock in your hands and stroked him a few times until the last drops fell onto your waiting tongue. You swallowed everything, locking eyes with Bucky’s hazy ones, and kissed the tip one last time. “You’re going to kill me. Fuck, you should go to the library more often, sweetheart.” His lips curled in a sneer, and when Bucky wanted to drag you onto his lap, the phone rang again.

He rolled his eyes but still answered.

“What the fuck, Barnes, we lost because of you!” 

“I don’t really care, Willson, because I just got the best head, and now I’m going to have no less good sex with my amazing girlfriend. Don't call me for at least a few hours.”

“Ew, you’re motherf—”

Bucky didn’t listen to whatever Sam wanted to say and ended the call, throwing away his phone. Then he looked back at you, still on the floor, and that dangerously attractive grin appeared on his face again. 

“Now let me pay you back, and then fuck you the way you wanted me to. Gotta help my girlfriend relax, right?” That was Bucky’s last words before he stood up, helped you stand up, and then casually threw you over his shoulder, taking you to your bedroom. 

[puppy-steve]

promise you forever

steddie ☆ 971 ☆ cw: none ☆ appalachian eddie ☆ao3

“phone for ya, eds,” wayne chuckles as he comes out of the house to the front porch where everyone’s sitting. “think your boy’s had one too many.”

eddie frowns and stamps down the worry bubbling inside him. steve rarely ever drinks anymore. doesn’t smoke anymore, either. not since starcourt. eddie slides off the porch swing where he’d been sitting with his aunt pep and goes inside to the wall phone in the kitchen, the receiver laying on the counter.

“steve?” he says, lifting the phone to his ear.

“country boy, i love youuuuuuuu!”

steve’s words are slurred, which doesn’t make eddie any less panicked. what happened? was he okay? eddie leaves to visit his family for one week and he can’t seem to escape the horrors that hawkins, indiana seems to breed every day.

“stevie? baby, you okay?” eddie tries to keep his voice from shaking.

there’s a laugh on the other line and steve flat out yells into the phone, “eddie! hi!” yep. he’s definitely drunk. eddie strains to hear any background noise that would give any hints as to where steve is at, but it’s silent.

eddie’s knuckles grip the phone. “where are you, sweetheart? are you safe?”

steve makes a grumbling noise, like he’s talking to someone else and eddie doesn’t know if that makes him feel better or worse.

“i’m fiiiiiine, eds,” steve says after another second of grumbling. “teds. teddy. teddy bear.” he starts listing ever iteration of eddie’s name, and eddie doesn’t want him to stop. if he keeps going, then eddie knows he’s not in immediate danger.

“dingus! stop hogging the phone!”

wait.

“robbie, i’m trying to talk to me boyfriend,” steve whines and there’s sounds of a scuffle and “no—hey—robin, it’s still my turn—!”

“hi, eddie!” robin’s voice is suddenly in his ear and sounding just as drunk as steve. jesus christ, eddie’s never leaving them unsupervised again.

eddie sighs and runs a hand down his face. “robin, where the hell are you? and why are you drunk?” these two are gonna finish what the bats started and put him in an early grave, he swears it.

on her end, robin groans. “dingus!” she scolds steve. “you didn’t remind him?”

“remind me of what, bobbie?” eddie asks. now that he’s sure the two of them are somewhat coherent and probably not in danger, he feels so fucking tired all of a sudden.

“it’s my birthday, doofus!”

well now eddie feels awful. steve reminded him before he and wayne left, but in all the excitement of seeing the rest of his family again, it slipped eddie’s mind.

robin continues, “and you, theodore munson!”

if eddie thought he was off the hook, he’s dead wrong. he’s never hearing the end of this now. it’s not likely, but maybe luck will be on his side for once and she’ll forget this conversation ever happened.

“you owe me a birthday breakfast, lunch, and dinner when you get back. and you have to buy me a present.”

eddie rests his forehead on the wall as a laugh bubbles up out of his chest at the ridiculousness of the situation. “alright, birdie,” he promises. “as soon as i get back, i’ll start right on it and get you the most expensive present i can afford.”

“it better break your bank account, munson!” she threatens, but eddie knows she’s bluffing.

“alright, birthday girl, can you put steve back on?”

robin yells out for steve. “you better not be doing any hanky panky on my birthday, dingus,” she warns before steve comes on the line.

“hi, baby.” he’s definitely still drunk, but he’s quieter, not yelling into the phone like he was a few minutes ago.

warmth fills eddie’s chest and he leans his shoulder on the wall, angling himself away from the door to give himself a sense of privacy in case anyone comes inside. “hey sweetheart,” he says just as softly. “you two having fun?”

he can practically see steve’s nod. “mhm,” he confirms. “miss you, though. wish you were here.”

eddie’s gonna marry this boy someday, just you wait.

“i miss you, too, sugar,” eddie tells him. “wayne said he thinks you’ve had a little too much to drink.”

“no i haven’t!” steve’s voice raises for a second before dropping back down again. “just had one… three… four beers, i promise.”

eddie hums, not bothering to hide the amused grin on his face. “uh-huh. s'at why you sound drunker than a skunk, right now, sweet thing?”

steve huffs and eddie wants so badly to kiss the pout off his boyfriends lips. “m'not drunk,” he says without any real argument.

“alright, i believe you,” eddie concedes. he can’t help but to let a little worry back in. he bites his lip. “can you promise me something, stevie?”

steve’s answer is immediate and almost shatters eddie’s heart. “i’ll promise you forever, teddy.”

eddie takes a breather to calm himself down so he doesn’t jump in wayne’s truck and make the five hour drive back to hawkins. “promise me you’ll call nancy if either of you start to feel weird?”

steve hums in his ear, like a purring cat. “i promise, baby. cross my heart ‘n everything.”

eddie grins and wishes he was there in front of him so he could touch him. “thank you. i won’t keep you any longer, then. i’m sure birdie’s getting impatient.”

“she’s always impatient,” steve huffs. “it’s her best quality.”

there’s no argument there.

“i love you, stevie. call me tomorrow when you wake up?”

steve sighs softly. “i love you, eddie.” he makes exaggerated kissing noises over the phone until he hangs up.

eddie hangs the receiver up. he’s here in his grandmother’s kitchen, surrounded by his family, but his heart has never felt as full as it does in this moment.

buy me a ☕?

[starryeyedjanai]

@steddieholidaydrabbles valentine's day prompt | read on ao3 tags: established relationship, fluff

“Wait, how is it possible that you’ve never had a Valentine’s Day date?” Eddie asks. “You literally dated Nancy for almost a year.”

Steve shrugs. “She was sick that week. I had something planned, but had to cancel. I brought her soup and stayed with her for a little while, but it wasn't really the date I had hoped for, you know?”

In the nine months he and Steve have been dating, Steve has gotten better about asking for what he wants, but he still gets weird about some things though. So Eddie knows he’s bringing this up a couple weeks before Valentine’s Day for a reason—that even though he can’t really say it, he wants to have Valentine’s Day plans with Eddie.

So Eddie starts planning.

His plan starts with breakfast in bed because he doesn't want to take away from whatever Steve’s got planned for dinner — he knows Steve will probably plan something romantic for that.

His suspicions about that are proven right when Steve not so casually asks at the beginning of the week if he has “dinner plans on Saturday” as if Eddie won’t remember that’s the 14th. He plays along and says he doesn't have any plans yet, watching as Steve tries to hide his small smile behind his hand. He’s so fucking cute.

On Valentine’s Day, Eddie wakes up earlier than he has since he graduated high school and makes his way over to Steve's with his supplies.

He lets himself into the house with the key Steve had given him a few months ago and gets to work quietly making breakfast.

He mixes the waffle mix before he puts a pot of coffee on, fiddling with the coffee machine that he’s only used a few times because Steve tends to wake up before him and already have it brewed.

He hums quietly to himself as he cooks the bacon and eggs, the waffles cooking away in the waffle iron.

When the food is done, he grabs the tray he brought with him and arranges flower petals around the plate. He turns to grab a coffee mug and nearly has a heart attack at the sight of Steve leaning against the archway leading into the kitchen.

“How long have you been standing there?” he asks, watching as Steve starts to walk forward towards him.

“A few minutes. I woke up and heard something and figured you must be down here,” Steve says, coming to a stop right in front of Eddie. He’s smiling softly and his eyes are fond and happy and Eddie gets lost in them for a moment before he remembers—

“Wait, no, go back to bed! This is supposed to be breakfast in bed!”

Steve brings a hand up to push Eddie's hair out of his face and cup his neck. He says, “Breakfast in bed is a really sweet idea, but I don't think I could handle the crumbs,” and Eddie groans.

He forgot how much of a stickler Steve is for not having food in his room. “I wanted to be romantic!” he whines, sticking his bottom lip out. Steve swoops in and kisses it softly.

“It was very romantic to wake up to the smell of coffee and come down here to see you singing and cooking me breakfast,” he says, thumb stroking over Eddie's cheek.

Eddie leans into the touch and says, “Go sit at the table and I’ll bring it to you. At least let me have that.”

Steve smiles wider and says, “Okay, love.”

Eddie pours them both a cup of coffee, adding sugar and cream to Steve's, repeating what he’s seen him do countless mornings, before he finishes plating the food.

He grabs the tray and his own plate and brings them to the dining room, setting the tray in front of Steve.

He’s about to go sit in the chair next to him when Steve pulls him into his lap.

Eddie laughs and turns in his lap so he’s sitting sideways and not blocking the food.

“You shaped the eggs like hearts,” Steve says, looking up at Eddie.

Eddie sets his plate down on the table and kisses Steve, soft and slow.

“I think this is the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me,” Steve says when he pulls back. His eyes are shining a little.

“You deserve romantic things,” Eddie says, kissing Steve's temple. “You deserve all the romantic things, in fact. I have a whole day of romantic things planned just for you.”

“The whole day?” Steve asks, surprised.

“What, did you think I’d feed you breakfast and then just leave you alone the rest of the day?” Eddie asks with a playful scoff. “We’re gonna eat breakfast and then we’re gonna watch the cheesy romantic comedy I rented. Then we’re gonna go to Lover’s Lake and have a picnic in the back of my van. Then we’ll come back here and I’ll let you have your way with me before you whisk me off to whatever dinner plans you made.”

Steve has the nerve to look caught out at that last bit. “You knew?” he asks, mouth pulled into a cringing smile.

“I know you, darling,” Eddie says, grinning at him. “You’re a romantic.”

“This is going to be the best Valentine’s Day ever, spending the entire day doing what you planned,” Steve says, nuzzling his nose against Eddie’s jaw. “But I hope you know I’m gonna woo you tonight. Sweep you off your feet.”

“Oh, are you now? How do you plan on doing that?” Eddie asks.

“It’s a surprise,” Steve says, voice teasing. He picks up his fork to start eating.

Eddie hums. “No thoughts about the having your way with me part of my plan?”

“Oh I have thoughts. Many, many thoughts,” Steve says, leaning up and pressing a kiss to Eddie's jaw. “I’ll try not to wear you out before dinner.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow at him. “I’m holding you to that, big boy.”

[scoops-aboy86]

Secret Admirer

Steddie Week 2024, July 1: Mystery / secret relationship / One Night Alone by Vixen

wc: 2131 / rated: T / set between seasons 2 and 3 / also on ao3

cw: negative self talk (steve), allusions to unhealthy use of drugs and alcohol (eddie), and one horny paragraph

In the first few letters, Eddie had tried to disguise his handwriting. It occurred to him after a while, though, that there would be no reason for someone like Steve Harrington to recognize it, so he stopped. And he was right, nothing happened. 

Steve hasn’t figured out the secret admirer letters he kept answering were written by none other than the official Freak of Hawkins High. Hell, Steve hasn’t even worked out that he’s a he. Though a few vaguely worded sentences every now and then suggest that Steve might not be assuming she either, which is…interesting. Possibly nothing, but interesting all the same. And Eddie knows he’s probably just stringing himself along by doing this, but he’s about to repeat his senior year of high school for the third goddamn time and this is a better option than drinking or dipping into the harder stuff that Reefer Rick expects him to sell. Broken heart likely, but at least he doesn’t wake up with a headache or the shakes.

Now it’s well into summer, and the PO Box he’d had since he was sixteen (for Blueboys and other mags that would get him equally tarred and feathered if anyone finds out) gets mail every damn day.

Eddie looks down at the most recent letter, rereading it for the hundredth time with a joint in one hand, several empty beer cans littering the bedspread and floor of his room around him. 

Dear Secret Admirer, Hey, I’m sorry if I came on too strong in my last couple of letters. I get why you don’t want to tell me who you are. We probably went to high school together, right? You don’t write like a middle schooler and no one who graduates sticks around in this stupid town besides me. I guess that makes me stupid means you probably knew me when I was still a douchebag. Sorry about that. I hope I never said anything to you or let Tommy push you around. Except I don’t know why you would’ve started writing to me in the first place if I had? It’s not like I would’ve written back if I was still that popular guy who everyone talked to and thought was so cool. Yeah, I admit it, I thought I was hot shit back then too! But it turns out, they only give you the spotlight as long as you don’t put a toe out of line. Don’t point out when they’re being assholes. You wouldn’t believe the kind of shit some people will say when they think you already agree with them about everything.  Anyway, I’m trying to be better now. Genuinely, if I’m not, if I’ve been an asshole in these letters at all, please tell me. And it’s not like I’m tired of writing to you, I just. Wouldn’t getting to talk in person be even better? Or we don’t even have to talk, if you don’t want to, that’s okay! You can come by Scoops and tell me it’s you and I’ll give you a free ice cream cone or something, whatever you want. Because actions speak louder than words, right? You keep sending me all these nice letters, and I’m not the best with words so I want to give you something too. (I don’t mean that like That wasn’t a come-on, I swear. Shit, I should rewrite this again but this is already the fifth draft, it’s not getting any better than this. Sorry.) — Steve PS, I don’t know if you have been to Scoops already, but if you’ve seen my coworker’s whiteboard I swear I’m not interested just because I keep striking out. Turns out I don’t actually know how to talk to girls without being weird. It’s weird being done with high school and not have that stuff in common to talk about, and I used to be this cool guy that I’m really not anymore so I panic and all this bullshit (who am I kidding) bullshit comes out my mouth and it’s EMBARRASSING. Anyway. I really like your letters, it’s been great having someone to talk to even if it’s not really talking a face to face thing, and I’m not just saying that because I’m kind of a loser now. Anyway, have a nice day! Fuck, Robin is right, I SUCK

The first bullshit in the postscript is crossed out so hard there’s a tear in the paper. All the scribbled out bits are borderline illegible, like Steve really tried, but Eddie can still make out most of it and can guess the rest from context. The very last word, for example, is totally obscured, but he has seen the You Rule / You Suck board, so. Yeah.

It makes his heart ache, the way Steve talks about himself sometimes. The way his insecurities bleed through artlessly on the page like coffee stains. Eddie alternates between wanting to wrap him up in soft things to protect him from whatever sharpness left him so cut open, and wanting to smother him with kisses for the bravery in being so genuine with a nameless, faceless stranger. 

Except Steve isn’t his. Steve is straight, for all he’s apparently being kind enough not to make assumptions, and could never want Eddie in the same way. And it’s not fair, the hanging back that Eddie’s been doing, holding out now that Steve has come to look forward to his letters just because of a little (huge, massive, life-threatening) fear of rejection. 

He’s been dragging his heels so long that Steve is feeling rejected, and that just won’t do. 

Sighing, Eddie takes another long drag before stubbing the remaining nub of the joint out. Scrubs his hands across his face and considers getting another beer. Or maybe forgetting the corner he’s backed himself into, with Steve wanting to meet—not only to satisfy the curiosity of knowing who his secret admirer is, but because he actually seems to like the person writing to him. (Actually wrote that they didn’t have to talk if Eddie didn’t want to, Jesus H. Christ, why did he have to be such a fucking sweetheart about that?) 

It’s late, and he’s already stripped restlessly down to just his boxers for bed. He could push it all aside, push his hands down the front of his underwear and get lost in different thoughts about Steve for a while, for the trillionth time. God knows that always works to clear his head, sometimes twice if he’s ambitious about it, enough for sleep to take him. 

Instead, Eddie drops the letter on his bed and hunts around on his desk for a notebook he can stand to tear a few more pages out of. Once he has what he needs, he chews on the end of his pen for several minutes  before putting it to the paper.

Steve, my beloved, It has been some time since I’ve replied. My deepest apologies for that, as it seems like you’ve taken that to mean something I absolutely did not intend. I received all of your letters, and “too strong” is not how I would describe them. They were lovely, sweetheart. I have reread them many times, I have slept with them under my pillow, I have cried happy tears over them for the thought that you might actually share my affection enough to want so badly to know who I am.  Very quickly, to address some of your questions and concerns: One, we did share some years in high school, yes, and I’m pleased to read that you think my writing is at a level appropriate to someone approximately our age. (I wish more of my teachers shared that view, but alas, I’m pretty sure that most of them hate me. Except for the drama teacher, who would let me get away with murder as long as I didn’t stain or break any of his props with the act.) Two, Hagan was a dick, but more to my friends than me directly, and the worst you ever did was laugh when I dropped my books a few times, that sort of thing. Water under the bridge, fuck high school, etc. etc.. Three, you have not engaged in any assholery in your writing, or in any of your actions that I’ve seen in a long time.  And four… you should’ve left the double entendre (i.e. the “I want to give you something too”); I wouldn’t have minded.  Obviously I think of you as prime boyfriend material—thoughtful, good sense of humor and humility, and whenever those younger kids swing by to pester you at the mall you put up a good front of being exasperated and annoyed, but through all that I can tell you care about them. (They say never trust someone who would hurt an animal, it works for kids too.)  But you’re also a total smoke show, baby. The effortless way you moved around the basketball court, same as in the water when you were still on the swim team, and in those indecently tiny shorts. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about running my fingers up the inside of those thighs. Or my mouth. Whichever you think you’d like best, baby, I’m not picky. And while I do like ice cream, particularly strawberry with rainbow sprinkles in a cone, I can think of something else I’d love to wrap my hand around and run my tongue over before any drips can escape. You just think about that, hmm? Maybe share some of those thoughts in your reply, if I haven’t scared you off with this paragraph.  It was a relief to write that, to be honest. I am not without my fantasies, you see; in a lot of ways, they’re all I have. The real reason I’ve been hesitant to respond to all of your heartfelt entreaties to meet, sweetheart, is that I’m afraid. I’ve been head over heels for you for so long—for your looks before anything else, I’ll admit, but the douchebag boy from high school that you mentioned is long gone. A man stands in his place, and what a man you are. In writing to you, I wanted to make clear first and foremost how ardently I admire and love you, lest my feelings be mistaken for mere tawdry teen lust.  And hopefully I’ve succeeded. If so, can you see now how actions can be carved in with the words? It is the intent that shines through, and I can read in between the lines, Steve, that you are being genuinely honest with yours. All those disparaging remarks you made about yourself in your last letter, both crossed out and not, are probably you being too hard on yourself, but they speak to the fact that you both understand you’ve made mistakes in the past and are trying to pay penance for them. That, along with your fantastic hair and magnificent ass, are just a few of the reasons I remain, as always— Your Secret Admirer P.S. I don’t mind weird. Like it, even. Bring it on, big boy.  P.P.S.  If all I could ever have with you is one night alone, I’d take it and be grateful.

Eddie’s letter is almost twice as long as Steve’s, but whatever. That’s par for the course; he never expected Steve to be much of a wordsmith, even though the guy is clearly putting in a lot of effort. Writes drafts, apparently. Unlike Eddie, who bangs all that out in pretty much one go and merely skims it before sliding it in an envelope, sealing it in, slapping on a stamp and address, and throwing it off the bed. 

Then he falls into bed and strips his dick to the thought of Steve reading the letter and thinking about his mouth, half in a hot anonymous way and half in some imaginary reality where Steve knows it’s him and wants this just as badly. Of Steve groaning out how good it feels and maybe wanting to hold him after, fall asleep together, like they’re…

The next morning (or afternoon, whatever, it’s summer vacation), Eddie reviews his slightly fuzzy memory of the letter after stepping on the envelope and realizing, oh, right. Overly verbose and dramatic, the way he always is but even more so when tipsy. And… fuck it. One horny paragraph, he decides, won’t be the end of the world. Maybe it will scare Steve off; maybe he’ll enjoy it. Let fate decide, just like at the dnd table. 

Eddie shoves the envelope into the mail drop box just outside the trailer park gate on his way into town and sends a prayer out to no god in particular that he hasn’t just rolled a nat one.

~

Permanent tag list: @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve

Tagging some folks who expressed interest about this story in my Wiggly Wednesday post last week, let me know if you don't want to be tagged going forward: @steviewashere @cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve

@rozzieroos @lunaraindrop @just-my-latest-hyperfixation

[dawnagustd]

hours || jjk

⇝ title: hours ⇝ pairing: jungkook x f!reader ⇝ genre: humor, i think? | neighbors to lovers | smut | implied unestablished relationship to established relationship ⇝ summary: You walk across the hall and visit your neighbor Jungkook every Wednesday to drink, chill, sing some karaoke… watch some Netflix. But you always end up wobbling back to your apartment after hours of doing all kind of unholy things. Not tonight. ⇝ rating: 18+ ⇝ word count: 3k ⇝ warnings: alcohol consumption | strong language | they’re both kind of bratty but cute | mentions birth control | pussy eating | edging | fingering | unprotected sex | pull out method | cervix touching/bulging | jungkook has a lip piercing and a septum piercing | uhh he puts his nose in her coochie lol | light tit slapping | teasing | throat grabbing | dirty talk | hairstyling (wink, wink) | missionary | cum shots | squirting | slight dom!jk | nipple sucking | breath play | crying | ass worshiping | aftercare | bam makes an appearance | naked jk… yes this is a warning and you will see why | i brought up BTR, i need to apologize immediately for that | discussions about relationships | i think that’s all

⇝ author’s note: she’s here, bitches!!!! lol thank you @m1sss1mp​ and @monvante​ for putting posters of this man all over my blog. this fic is for the both of you. thank you so much for holding my hand through it all. thank you @baljinciaga​ for beta’ing and screaming in the comments because you gave me the confidence to post this lol. listen, i’m rusty with the smut y’all so i apologize if it’s a mess. anyway, i hope you enjoy. this has been beta’d but there’s still probably some errors since i changed some things after it was beta read.

masterlist | permanent taglist form | read on ao3

drabbles: the unholy drabble | nails drabble | keeps

“So are you spending the night or…?”

Jungkook props himself on his elbow so he can see you. He uses his fingers to comb some hair away from his face, revealing his flushed cheeks and a horseshoe septum piercing. Ask yourself how many rounds you’ve gone, and you wouldn’t be able to give an accurate answer.

You came over at six, had a beer, did some karaoke, showed him some shit you learned in twerk class, and as some as the Netflix intro came through the tv speakers, your clothes were scattered all over his apartment and your ass was in the air while Jungkook fucked up your guts.

This is kind of a Wednesday night routine for you two. Has been for a few months. You’re just vibing and having fun with your hot neighbor, nothing serious yet. Right?

“As much as I’d like to stay—”

“Pussy.”

Your mouth falls open.

“Excuse me?”

He giggles until you reach for his hair and tug on his strands. You slide closer, trying to intimidate him but he keeps teasing.

“You’re pussy. You’re tapping out,” he repeats.

You scoff. “Boy, I’ve never tapped out a day in my life. Get the fuck out of here.”

Your thumb wipes the little smirk off of his face, but it returns seconds later.

“Your dick isn’t that good. Humble yourself,” you joke.

His cocky ass knows you’re dickmatized, but you still won’t admit it. 

“Whatever. You know I’ve been holding back.”

“And who told you to do that?”

“You,” he answers. “Oh, Jungkook! Please, I’ll come!”

You smack his ink-covered arm drawing a chuckle from his lips.

“You’re so full of shit, Jungkook. Okay, let’s fuck again, and don’t hold back this time,” you request.

Jungkook begins shaking his head, laughing at your persistence.

“Love, the only one getting that kind of dick is my girl so…”

“So what are you trying to say?” you ask.

He shrugs. “You tell me. You know I’ve been trying to see about that.”

An eye roll from you follows his statement. “Whatever, I’ve already let you know how it is.”

“Yeah, but I wanna hear you say when you’re not stuffed with cock,” he gripes.

“Well, come here then. I’ll say it in your ear.”

You call him over using your finger, but he doesn’t move.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me, love.”

You throw the covers off of both of you, kicking the comforter until your legs are free. Jungkook doesn’t move initially when you spread your legs. He stays in a sitting position, letting his hair fall in his face while he smiles menacingly. His Calvin Klein’s hug his thick thighs, creating creases in his flesh.

“Well, show. Teach me. Make me aware,” you tease, using your foot to caress his calf.

“Careful, baby.”

His throat growls those words, his voice dropping octaves so low your pussy clenches.

“Why? Tired, hm?”

“You know that’s not it,” he chuckles.

You’d be lying if you didn’t admit your pussy gets wet just looking at him. Imagine being hot inside and out. That’s Jungkook. A gentleman, and the cutest weirdo immediately after. The sex is just the cherry on top.

You two just clicked, and the rest is history. Whether you need someone to act an absolute clown with or someone to fuck your brains out, Jungkook is that guy. You can’t keep your hands off of him, and he can never resist the chance to slide his dick in you.

“I don’t. So make me understand.”

“Ai yi yi,” he sighs. Then he looks at you and shakes his head. “...so much attitude.”

“Fix it for me.”

Jungkook nods then swiftly pounces on you. You start giggling, knowing you’ve struck a nerve.

“You’re pushing it, you know.”

“I don’t care,” you retort.

Jungkook smirks. “Oh, you will.”

He lowers his body, leveling his face with your pussy. You can feel small puffs of air leave his lips and come in contact with your center. 

Jungkook brings two of his fingers to your entrance and prods teasingly, getting you riled up almost instantly. You grip the sheets and lift your lower body off the bed to chase his digits, but he doesn’t push in.

“Still wet for me?” he asks. Jungkook spreads your folds to examine your arousal, looking at you when he discovers that you’re soaking. “Damn, you are.”

The sound of your slick as your opening widens makes your cheeks burn with shame. You turn away, but Jungkook doesn’t like that.

“Uh, uh. You wanna get fucked, you gotta watch,” he says.

Reluctantly, you give him your attention and you immediately regret looking away. His messy hair and puffy eyes give you butterflies as you wait for his next move. You almost forget about how close his face is to your cunt.

Jungkook’s fingers slowly slip into your pussy. You gasp while they sink deep into your crevice. He knows the exact route and the perfect arch in which he must curl them to make your body quiver with pleasure.

Hearing your arousal filling the room entices both of you and Jungkook becomes eager to pick up the pace. Your hips buck and move in a circular motion to match his movements, creating a familiar build-up of pressure within your core. The sheets below you start to dampen from the juices dripping down your center.

“You’re so hot,” he whispers before he kisses your clit. “And you taste so good.”

Jungkook makes out with your bundle of nerves while his fingers pump in and out of your opening. His hair covers his face, much to your disappointment, so you gather it all and keep it contained in a makeshift ponytail. 

Now that his face is visible, you can see the way his tongue swipes your pussy each time his lips part. You moan his name, swelling him with so much pride he can’t help but smile briefly. His fingers slide out of you but only so he can kiss lower and fuck you with his tongue.

The deeper he enters, the more pressure his nose places on your throbbing clit. His septum piercing tickles your center as he rubs his face in your pussy, creating a pleasant sensation that penetrates your core. 

Quickly, you lose control over everything. You can feel your stomach tightening, hear your moans getting louder, smell the desire growing stronger but you’re unable to grasp the one thing you so desperately want. It’s so close, but then, Jungkook snatches it away.

“Fuck, you asshole!”

Jungkook suddenly stops just as you’re reaching your peak. He withdraws and leaves you a whining mess while he laughs.

“Oh, now I’m an asshole?” His smirk never fades while he removes his underwear and tosses them on the floor. “I think I’m a gentleman.”

He looks over at the nightstand and sighs defeatedly.

“Fuck, man.”

“What?”

“Out of condoms,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug. “It’s fine. I’m on the pill. We’re good.”

“Are you sure? I can just finish—”

“No, just pull out, dude. I wanna get fucked,” you insist.

“Well, yes ma’am. You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Jungkook hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls you on his lap. He keeps one hand underneath your thigh while the other one grabs his dick. You prop yourself on your elbows and watch as he strokes his cock a few times, using your arousal for lubrication before he aligns with your center.

The tip probes your entrance until it’s nestled inside and he no longer needs to hold his shaft. He redirects his attention to your clit, and he massages your bud as he buries his cock inside of you.

“Shit!”

Your back arches and your fist punch the bed. Inch by inch he fills your pussy until he can’t fit any more of himself inside of you. The fullness you feel from his girth leaves you breathless and panting.

“Still so tight,” he whispers. “...feels so good.”

Jungkook hovers over you when you lie down again and kisses you, leaving the taste of your pussy on your lips. His tongue slips into your mouth and arousal coats your tastebuds. Your moans are muffled but are still clearly heard. His name escapes your lips repeatedly as you beg him to fuck you.

“Ready?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Another kiss graces your lips and then another for your chest. He moves to your breast and does the same to your nipples, but envelopes the right one between his lips and suckles it tenderly. Your arms wrap around him to bring him closer as he starts nibbling your sensitive bud with his teeth.

He starts to move, setting a pace that has your toes curling instantly. You bury your face in his dark strands and beg him to keep going.

“Jungkook, please don’t stop. It’s so good.”

“I’m not,” he promises, sending waves of vibrations through your areola. His mouth feels so warm and moist against your skin. Hair raises along your flesh caused by both the chill of the room and Jungkook’s gentle touch. It’s a contrast from the way he roughly thrusts inside of you, but it’s the kind of fire and ice that has your body yearning for more. 

As if he can read your body language, he changes his position. A lewd noise pierces your ears when his lips release your stiffened nipple. The cold air makes your skin tingle due to the sensitivity and the presence of his saliva. 

Jungkook wraps his hand around your throat, forcing you to keep your eyes on him. His fingers comb his hair away from his face, revealing his flushed face, his pierced lip tucked between his teeth. The intimacy of the moment intensifies the pleasure growing inside of you, and your watery eyes begin to produce thick salty droplets.

“Feel good, baby?” Jungkook quizzes. “Does it really feel that good?”

“Yes, Jungkook. It…”

Your voice is so weak and raspy. You have difficulty speaking clearly, and articulating your sentences. Jungkook is very displeased.

“Speak up,” he requests. He slaps your tits, leaving you trembling and hanging on by a thread. Your pussy clenches around him, and he responds by squeezing your throat. “You feel that?”

You croak out a response. The best you can with your airways being constricted.

“Good,” he grunts. “That’s how my dick feels inside this tight fucking pussy.”

He loosens his grip and air finally refills your lungs, making you lightheaded. Your head starts spinning, your vision becomes blurry, and slowly the familiar feeling begins to form within your gut. Grabbing Jungkook’s arm, you try to warn him, but you are immediately dismissed.

“Nope. I’m not done.”

Jungkook opens your legs wider and his thrusts deepen. It’s like he’s trying to fit his entire dick inside of you, but each time he runs out of room. 

You can feel him entering your guts over and over. The blunt outline of his cock is faintly visible whenever it lodges itself in your womb. Your muscles clench tightly as you try your hardest to keep it together.

One thing’s for certain, he has been holding back. Now you’re addicted to this new side of him, and there’s no other way you want him to fuck you. It feels like no experience you’ve ever had; you can’t get enough, but your body can only take so much before you lose control.

“Ah, shit! You’re fucking tight.” Sweat drips from Jungkook’s forehead as he struggles to hang on. He’s drawing this out; savoring the moment just like you are, but both of you are nearing your peaks, and it’s only moments before you topple over the edge. “I want this forever.”

“You have it, though. I’m not going anywhere,” you promise. “I’m yours.”

“Oh, fuck.”

Jungkook’s movements stutter when he hears your voice speaking to him through your soft moans. Your words are like a match igniting a flame deep inside of him. He begins fucking you harder, like he’s on a mission to ruin you.

“Shit. Come on my dick, baby,” he moans, probably waking the neighbors. “Make a mess.”

At his command, your body gives in and chases the pleasure it’s been longing for. You scream his name like it’s the only word you know. Your soul leaves you lying on the bed and elevates to the ceiling, probably even further. You tremble and shake beneath him as the coil snaps inside of you, sending ripples of pleasure shooting through your veins.

Your arousal gushes out of you with enough force to push Jungkook’s dick out of you. He slaps your pussy repeatedly, milking you dry while he strokes his shaft. As you lay there, squirting out the last of your orgasm, you slowly return to your body, but you’re still basking in your post-sex daze.

“Flip over.”

Jungkook turns you on your stomach and straddles your thighs. He strokes his cock while he stares at your ass, still tender from all the spanking he did early. He slaps it with enough force to get a muffled moan out of you. Your head remains buried in the pillow because your body refuses to move an inch.

“Softest fucking ass on the planet,” he mumbles. “And all mine.”

You relax under his touch as his large hand begins to massage your flesh. You become more exhausted as the seconds tick by. Jungkook’s pants and moans fill your ears as he chases his high, and soon his breaths become shallower, indicating that he’s approaching his release.

“Fuck.”

Moments later warm droplets of his cum paint your ass while Jungkook cries your name. He plops on top of you, careful not to use all of his weight, and leaves kisses along your shoulder. When his breathing settles, he gets up and finds a shirt to clean your body. He covers you with the blanket when he’s done so you aren’t cold.

“Are you still with me?” he asks, and you giggle.

“I’m here.”

“Well, I wish you’d say something.”

When you turn your head in his direction, you find him standing there in all of his naked glory, his dick slowly deflating, but still standing at attention while he chugs down his leftover beer.

“Maybe you should drink some water,” you suggest.

He puts the mug down and raises a finger. “You’re absolutely right. I’ll be back.”

When Jungkook leaves, the door remains open and someone else enters the room moments later. You don’t even flinch when Bam jumps on the bed, claiming his spot at the end. You’re just glad he’s finally warmed up to you. At first, you think he was a little jealous, but you guess he realized that with you in the picture, he receives two times the love and attention.

Jungkook’s footsteps make their way down the hall and he’s shocked by the sight of his pup lying beside you when he enters the room. 

“I see you two have finally become friends,” he points out. He walks over to the bed and gives Bam some love while he whispers to him. “Don’t steal my girl, dude.”

You giggle and shake your head, as if Bam would ever leave his side. You’ve noticed that he has been more drawn to you lately, but you think it’s just him getting used to you being around. He knows you aren’t going to steal his dad from him, so now he’s more open to spending time with you.

“Did you bring me some water?”

Jungkook nods. “Of course.”

He gives you the water bottle and you sit up so you can drink some. Jungkook sits beside you and waits for you to finish. 

You know he’s about to ask you something, so you quickly gulp down your water to get it over and done with. 

On cue, he speaks.

“You still haven’t given me an answer.”

“Ah,” you sigh. “I don’t know, Jungkook.”

“That’s not an answer. I mean no is fine, but I just wanted some kind of idea about where this is going,” he states.

You’ve thought about it, and dating Jungkook isn’t a bad idea. You’re just nervous because this is going so well and you don’t want to mess it up. However, the advice your friend gave you a week ago still plays in your mind.

“If you really need more time, it’s fine but I feel like you’ve been holding back too. I want you in my life, Bam wants you to be his mom, and—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt, fighting back a smile, but you fail. 

“What is it?”

You set your water on the nightstand and grab his hand. You absentmindedly trace his tattoos, while you talk to him.

“I’m nervous because I don’t want this ‘honeymoon’ phase to end,” you start. You can see his shoulders droop because he thinks this is bad news. However, it's not. “But every day we grow closer, so why should I let my mind prevent my heart from being happy?”

“You are so fucking trashed,” he blurts out. “Did I really fuck you that good?”

“Jungkook shut the fuck up. I was trying to be deep. Leave me alone.”

You try to turn away and go to bed but he pulls you on his lap.

“Hey, I’m kidding. That was cute,” he says. “I got it. You like me, and I like you. Let’s just continue to take it slow.”

“Thanks.”

“Mhm. But just so we’re clear, you’re my girlfriend now by default because we just… Well, you know.”

“I’ll be that,” you reply. “As long as you’re my… boy boy b-b-b-b-b-boyfriend.”

When Jungkook rolls his eyes, you erupt with laughter, knowing he doesn’t want to admit he likes BTR.

“Whatever, go to sleep.”

“In my bed, or yours?” you ask.

“Don’t start.”

You both snuggle together on the dry side of the bed while Bam snores peacefully at your feet. Jungkook hugs you from behind and the two of you slowly drift off to sleep.

“Goodnight,” you whisper.

But your boyfriend has already tapped out. Looks like you’re the real champ around here.

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed this story, please consider reblogging and/or leaving feedback.

[sevikasenby]

three months. (ao3 link)

a/n: first fic for @sevikaweek and i thought i’d end the last day, the deal, with another ending <3

summary: sevika goes into hiding because of the war between piltover and the undercity and you and sevika make a deal, a promise even: 3 months. that was it. rating: explicit, MDNI wc: 2,983 warning for major character death, mentions of blood

AGELESS BLOGS, MINORS AND MEN DNI

“they won’t find where i’m going. hell, they hardy know where this place is anyways so-“

“yeah they don’t know where we are right now, so why can’t you just stay here, sev!?” 

sevika stared at you. she opened her mouth to speak but closed it and let out a long, weary sigh and looked around. you were both stood in the living room because she had come to you with this while you were lounging on the couch. 

she knew you were frustrated, hence why you had just snapped at her a bit, but she was to because you weren’t understanding. maybe you never would. 

she looked at you with saddened eyes, “because you’re not a target, baby.”  she lifted her hand to cup your cheek, letting you nuzzle into it. “if they find this place and they see you with me, they will either take you or kill you too and i cannot let that happen.”

the enforcers were after sevika, but mainly jinx, wanting them dead or alive, and anyone who could’ve been helping either of them, hiding them, etc because of the war between piltover and the undercity going on. they already got a couple people including some firelights, lock and even singed because of the shimmer distribution. 

ran was actually the one helping jinx, letting her stay in their apartment since it was a bit like yours and sevika’s, off the enforcers radar and likely they wouldn’t be caught here. you had even questioned why sevika couldn’t go and stay with ran. she said it was because they were already hiding someone and she didn’t want to put them more at risk for helping. 

sevika just didn’t want to chance anything. she wanted to leave to keep you safe, to go to an even more secluded area, one far back in the undercity in hopes the enforcers would be too scared to go back there. 

“look,” sevika started when you looked away from her, thinking about what she said. “i’ll make a deal with you. give it three months. that’s it.”

“three months? for what?”

“in three months everything should be died down enough to where i can come back and be alright living here. probably will still keep low profile but it should be fine.”

“and if it’s not?” you placed your hand on top of hers where it still rested on your cheek. 

“then i stay where i am and i will come back to you as soon as it is, i promise. until then, you stay here. ran, i’m sure will keep you company, and you do not, under any circumstances, come looking for me. deal?”

it was your time to sigh. you raised your hand and moved the few stranded of hair out of face. she had cut her hair a lot shorter as a way to disguise herself, she had actually changed her whole outfit (jinx made her go shopping) for that matter, a new dark purple cloak. she had a new mech arm (jinx actually made some of it) and even got her first piercing right under her bottom lip. obviously it wasn’t going to disguise her a hundred percent but enforcers would be looking for her with a different description than she has now. 

“okay.” you said after a while. you still didn’t understand why she couldn’t just stay where she was, here with you. yes she wanted to protect you but just as she said, enforcers really didn’t know where they were. yes it was a chance of them coming your way, but sevika couldn’t bare the thought of anything happening to you so she decided herself that she was going to leave, that it was the best option for the both of you. 

two days later sevika had packed her bags. it wasn’t much, she’s never been someone to own a lot of things, she just packed what she needed. she also packed her clothes that were in the closet and put them away so just in case enforcers did make their way in, they wouldn’t know she lives here, they would only think you did. 

you laid in bed that night, resting on sevika’s chest, catching your breath, a pit of despair looming over you knowing what was coming the following day. you just had sex, like any regular night. but this time it wasn’t rough, it wasn’t fast, it felt completely different. yes you’ve had sex where it wasn’t your regular fast pace. this felt softer. her touch was somehow even more gentle than it normally was. it was slow, like she didn’t want it to ever end. she kept you close to her, her fingers were never not intertwined with yours as her wet clit moved against you. 

maybe you saw the tears in her eyes right before she buried her face in your neck, clearly not wanting you to see, but you didn’t mention it. and maybe a few of your own tears fell into her hair as you wrapped one of your arms around her, holding the back on her head. sevika didn’t notice. 

yes she was only going away for 3 months, not really a long time, so why were you both crying? it was probably because there was a possibility of her not coming back, you both knew it, but it was never said. because if its never spoken out loud, maybe it wouldn’t be real…

you looked up at her, rubbing you thumb across her chest. “i love you so much, sev.”

“i love you too, baby. you don’t understand how much i love you.” she leaned down to kiss your lips. “i barely even understand it.” 

_________________

the next morning it was quiet. too quiet for sevika’s liking. because sevika left before you even woke up since she knew she wouldn’t be able to leave after seeing the look in your eyes knowing she’s gonna be gone for three months, maybe even longer, but the hope was only three. she left with the memory of you sleeping peacefully, of you humming softly in your sleep as she caressed your hair and rubbed your back. 

if she sat at her desk, debating if this was the right decision once again and if she had tears slowing falling down her face while she kissed your forehead and made her way out the door once telling herself again that it was, it was the right decision, you didn’t need to know that. 

you woke up to a cold, empty bed. you weren’t necessarily surprised, she’s left to go to work way before you woke up at times. but this time was different. she was gone. you weren’t going to see her for what is probably gonna feel like a life time for you. for the both of you. 

you reached out and grabbed her pillow to hug to your chest. when you did, something caught your attention. her old outfit along with her old red cloak were still draped over her desk chair. you had washed them the other day and you knew you had to put them up and keep them away incase enforcers were to show. but at that moment you couldn’t, you got out of bed and grabbed her cloak, wrapping yourself in it as you hoped and prayed to whatever was out there that sevika would be safe and that she came back to you in one piece. 

_________________

it was a little over two months later, three months was just around the corner. you were starting to feel a little bit of hope bubble up inside of you. shit had died down as sevika had said, (other than the incident that happened about two weeks ago) and enforcers were getting tired of running in circles and the number of them that came down to the underity kept lowering. 

right after sevika left, it was a bit rough. ran had came by and stayed with you for a full day or two to keep you company and make sure you were doing okay, reminding you that sevika knew what she was doing, that she wouldn’t have left if she didn’t think it was the best option. they didn’t stay the night because enforcers were more likely to be coming down while it was dark but they came by almost every day to check in on you. 

you finally decided that you could do this. you trusted sevika. you trusted her with everything in you. and again, three months was just around the corner. 

_________________

a knock on the door interrupted your thoughts as you were getting ready to go to bed. it was a quiet night, only hearing the pitter patter of rain hitting the roof. you went and looked through the peephole in the door (because sevika reminded you to not open the door until you check who it is) and saw that it wasn’t an enforcer. 

so you opened the door and stared at ran in front of you, they were looking down. their hair and clothes were soaked bc of the rain and when they finally looked up at you, you could see their makeup was running down their face. 

they were sobbing you realized and your heart stopped. you looked down to see what they were holding and…

oh. 

sevika. 

she came back to you…but only one piece of her came back. 

the wet purple cloak was clutched tightly in their hands and your heart started racing, you started shaking and tears immediately formed in your eyes when you noticed the red splotches on it. 

“i-i-i’m sorry.” ran stuttered out. they stumbled inside just enough to where they would fall into you and you both nearly hit the ground. 

“no, no, no, no ,no-“ you started and ran wrapped one of their arms around you, let out a chocked sob and then both of you were on the ground, almost in the middle of the doorway while it was still raining. you felt the cloak in between you two and the tears finally fell. you felt completely empty, shattered, like you wanted to scream at the sky and sob until the only thing rolling down your face was the rain. 

three months…that was the deal. it was almost here. and now it never will be. 

_________________

it was hours after ran came by, hours after ran stopped crying, hours after you stopped sobbing into the purple cloak, now soaked with your tears instead of the rain. it was hours after the rain had stopped and it was past midnight that ran was finally able to tell you what happened. 

they didn’t know, really. they told you they ran into an old friend and one of the first things he said to ran was “oh, and i’m really sorry about sevika.”

ran was confused by what he said and their friend then realized they didn’t know what he was talking about. he was hesitant to tell them, of course, but told them what he knew. 

he said he saw three zaunite’s coming from a house about two weeks ago, way back in the undercity where he roamed about a lot simply because it was quiet, less people. it was safe, but maybe not so much anymore. the three men were clearly carrying a body with a white sheet over them. as they walked, a mech arm had slipped out and hit one of the guys in the leg and startled him. ran’s friend recognized it as sevika’s.

ran asked him to show them where the house was and he did. ran rushed into the house, noticing the trail of blood going up the steps and was met with one of their worst fears inside. the purple cloak on the floor was the first thing they noticed. then they noticed the blood on the cloak, then on the floor. it was enough that ran rushed back outside to throw up over the side of the railing as they were almost hyperventilating.

the enforcers must have found her and shot her, is the conclusion ran came to. after a bit of silence, a few sniffles heard here and there, ran questioned how you were going to tell jinx. 

you had absolutely no idea. all you knew was that sevika’s gone. she’s been gone. and you had no idea. 

_________________

sevika had heard from listening in on a few peoples conversation that another wave had started. more enforcers were swarming the undercity. what she didn’t know was it was because jinx almost got herself caught. it was an accident, of course, she didn’t mean to get in the line of sight of an enforcer when all she wanted to do was to go to jericho’s for a little snack for her and ran. but it pissed the enforcers off enough that they decided to adventure deep into the city to look for her. 

sevika went out, as she usually did. she checked every other day to see how things were doing, to try and see how many enforcers were out. but that night she went out at the wrong time because two enforcers were making their way down in search of jinx, thinking she might’ve been hiding deep in the shadows of the undercity. 

she noticed them before they noticed her. she turned around quickly, but not quickly enough. they had caught the end of her cloak, running up on her and she turned around when she heard the noise. they recognized her immediately, her mech arm poking out beneath her cloak. 

she didn’t have the time to think before one of them fired a shot at her, hitting her in the chest and knocking her to the ground. she had just enough energy to power her mech arm and use her blade to slice both legs of the enforcer who shot her. he screamed and fell to the ground in front of her.

the enforcers then decided that fuck it, she was shot, there’s a long way out of here and she wasn’t gonna make it out, so the enforcer helped his friend to his feet and they left, leaving sevika on the ground. 

she placed her hand over where she was shot, blood running down her hand. she knew she had to make it back inside, at least. breathing was getting difficult and her eye sight was blearing but she managed to get up the steps and inside the door. that was as far as her body would let her go. 

she was flat on her back on the floor of the run down house she was in. her own shuttered breath was the only noise she heard. the only thing she felt was a burning sensation in her chest. she knew she had to put something other than her hand on her wound but her cloak was tangled beneath her mech arm. she did her best and at least got it over her head but she tried and failed at pulling it out, giving up when her good arm was too weak to do so. 

she coughed and moved her head to the side to spit the blood out. as her eyes started feeling heavy, they started drooping and her mind started wondering. she thought of you. she thought about how she left almost three months ago. she left you sleeping peacefully, curled into the blankets where you were previously curled up in her arms. you always loved being in her arms, she was always so warm. but right now she felt cold, so so cold. 

she wondered for a moment how you were. if you were eating, drinking, getting enough sleep. she wondered if ran and jinx were  doing okay, if they were still safe. ran became sevika’s friend after they both started working for silco. the first thing sevika noticed was that ran never said much. which was never an issue. then she noticed they were the only person who could come close to beating her at cards and then suddenly they were friends. jinx was…well she was jinx. sevika may have felt a bit (a lot) of hatred for her in the past, mostly for blowing her up multiple times, but the little shit had grown on her. not that she’d ever let jinx know that.

now the burning pain in her chest was getting unbearable and a tear slipped down her face. she thought about what if she had stayed and just for a moment she almost regretted leaving you. she thought about what would’ve happened if you were with her right now. you would probably be frantically trying to stop her bleeding, that is if you hadn’t been shot along with her, which was more likely. if you hadn’t been shot, you probably would’ve been moving her hair out of her eyes, making her keep them open as you talked to her. 

then she thought about why she felt the need to leave so bad because of course she could have stayed. she could have protected you, at least she wants to believe she could have, and then it clicked. 

it was because you were never apart of her plans. you came along so suddenly and changed everything for her so fast that she couldn’t keep up. she never planned to care about someone so much. and she cared about you so fucking much, too much to let you die because of her. you weren’t supposed to be apart of this. she never planned for you to be apart of her life. 

you were her last thought and her last breath was more of a sigh, a sigh of content knowing you were safe, knowing that you weren’t holding her hand or kissing her forehead, knowing that you weren’t here with her… and she was okay with that. 

[starwrighter]

Dude, get a restraining order

(Masterpost) (Ao3 link) (previous)

(Chapter #5 Ya'll)

Just like he said he would, Damian walked Danny to his earth science classroom. Guiding him through labyrinth-like hallways with a firm grip on his sleeve. It’s as if he thought Danny would slip through his fingers and be swept away by the crowd of students. Embarrassingly enough, that’s an accurate assumption of both his luck and his situational awareness. If he dared to imagine the future, prison bars, sigils, and the outline of a body immediately came to mind.

Forever he’d be thanking the ancients for Damian expert skills in navigating. Without him, he’d probably be curled up at the bottom of a staircase by now. Or in a death cult keen on taking over the world. It might seem ridiculously pessimistic, but freaky escalations like that happened to him all the time! He’d gone from searching for a gift he’d accidentally knocked into the zone to staging a massive prison break! Needless to say, he appreciated the company.

“Since your map is half a century out-of-date; I’ll pick you up around lunchtime,” Damian declared, curtly waiting for his response.

”Sounds good,” Giving the other boy a small wave and a thankful smile Danny headed into the classroom.

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips as he read the cheesy geology jokes scrawled onto the board. The jokes were stupid in a way only teachers or dads could make them. Puns that could do psychic damage if you dare read them aloud. It’s beautiful. Leagues above a certain English teacher who butchered slang so brutally the lingo died on the spot.

The typical classroom posters lined the walls. A clear bucket full of rocks just sitting on the teacher’s desk as she started taking attendance. He sat close to the front furthest from the door. His blindside faced the wall, nobody could sneak up on him and he wouldn’t be trampled when the bell rang. Nobody could gawk pityingly at his face this way. Yeah, you could pry this spot from his cold dead hands.

It might seem extreme but people were…Weird when it came down to his disability. Some people treated him like he was utterly useless, incapable of doing anything on his own. They tried to “help” without bothering to ask about his condition or if he even needed help. It was so much worse the first few months after the accident. He was wheelchair-bound for that. -1/10 wouldn’t recommend.

He could say with certainty nobody wanted to be paralyzed. It’s jarring how differently treated him back then. They’d point out the obvious like he’s completely blind. Annoying, but understandable considering how gnarled his facial injuries were before they healed. It looked like somebody shot him in the face with a firework. The fact that he didn’t lose an eye was a medical miracle backed by new ghostly powers.

What wasn’t understandable was the complete lack of boundaries strangers had with him and his wheelchair. No amount of warning could’ve prepared him for the first time someone grabbed his wheelchair and moved him. He thought it’d been a one-time thing but it happened again and again without fail. Somebody would move him out of the way or try to “Help” him get to where he’s going. Several times without so much of a “Hello! Do you need some help,” people he’d never spoken to would grab the handles of his chair and start pushing him.

It’s infuriatingly dehumanizing and their heartbroken faces when he called them out tugged at his heartstrings. So many times he’d guiltily stewed over his responses. Jazz killed that guilt without so much as a thought when she put things into perspective. Even though Jazz had a habit of psychoanalyzing him it felt good when she said his anger warranted.

Nothing would ever feel as good as taking those first shaky steps outside his wheelchair though. The wave of overwhelming emotion when a group of baffled doctors told him his paralysis wasn’t as permanent as they previously thought was unparalleled. He cried a lot that day. Tears of joy, he’s not ashamed to admit that.

Never in his life would he have thought he’d be grateful for Dash’s bullying. But after a full two months of extensive physical therapy and multiple surgeries, he now knew were unnecessary anyone treating him like they did before was a godsend. Dash believed in a twisted kind of equality when it came to bullying, he’d pick on anyone he deemed a loser. For him, it’d been verbal harassment, but regaining the ability to walk gave him confidence. He was extremely cocky, snapping back with sarcastic venom at every dig made at him.

Slowly but surely, people stopped babying him. It was harder to argue that someone was helpless when they were actively picking fights with the star football player. After all the shit he’d involved himself in people treated him like normal. Normal in the sense he was picked on for being a loser with crazy parents.

He’d take that kind of bullying over the underhanded insults drowned in infantilism. As the months passed it felt like everyone forgot about his accident. His classmates would get angry at him when he couldn’t keep up with them and go green with envy when he got extra time for his assignments. People acted like he was getting special treatment just for the sake of it.

Like full body electrocution was something he could just walk off. They didn’t understand how walking and running were easier than standing in place. He was accused of faking it whenever he stood up from his wheelchair. People were offended that he still considered his left side blind when he could still see light in his peripherals.

Everyone he talked to said he was lucky. Lucky to survive, lucky to walk again without aid, lucky to have all the sweet powers, lucky lucky lucky. He didn’t feel all that lucky when his joints locked or when reading gave him migraines so bad he questioned if being alive was worth it.

He knows it could be worse. Dear god does he know it could be so, so, much worse. He could be fully dead. Charred to a crisp without even a blast shadow as evidence of his death. He should’ve been paralyzed from the neck down for the rest of his life. Braindead, hooked up to a machine as his family mourned their loss. The consequences of walking into that portal chamber were so much lighter than anyone could’ve imagined. So he dealt with it.

Things could be worse. At least he wasn’t in Gotham directly after his accident. Slipping through solid objects around people 100x more fearful of their surroundings was a wonderful way to speedrun getting his spine shattered by a guy in a bat suit. Or trafficked. Danny winces as he scribbles on a sheet of lined paper.

Someone is staring at him. The boy beside him was shooting daggers into his very soul. Hadn’t even bothered to hide the way his face twisted in suspicion when Danny turned to look him in the eyes.

“You need something?” Danny probed, praying this was just him misreading facial expressions.

“What the hell happened to you?” The other boy whispered, his tone harsh and accusatory.

“A shocking experience,” His half-assed response earns him a sharp glare and a sneer.

“No really, what happened?”

“Got zapped,” He shrugs, hoping his classmate would take the hint and drop it.

“That’s not what I meant,” The other seethed. “How did you get electrocuted?”

”Electricity,”

“The fact you’re dodging my question makes you look more suspicious,”

“Not trauma dumping on a stranger makes me suspicious?”

“It’s Gotham! We don’t get transfer students outside major cities and we certainly don’t get ones willing to stay for months! What are you planning?” He hisses, voice cracking as he tried and failed to make it sound lower.

“Trust me, if I had a choice to stay home I would’ve,”

“I don’t think I do trust you,”

“That's not my problem,” Danny shrugged. This guy spoke with the delusional confidence only the stubbornest flat earther could rival. He’s not a gothamite by any means but wasn’t the key unspoken rule of the city “Mind your damn business unless you’re a bat,” It’s on par with Don’t dig straight down but this guy clearly hadn’t learned of the former.

“Why do you have fangs?”

”Genetics,” What kind of question was that? Plenty of people had fangs. It’s a common trait, almost every person in amity has it!

”I don’t believe you,”

Heh? What’s the point in asking if he wasn’t going to believe him when he answered? It reminded him of a certain annoyance back home.

“Why do you-“

”Leave me alone!” He snaps. It’s like his classmates doing his best impression of a toddler! “Why?” “Why?” “Why?” Desperately trying to catch Danny in a lie and refusing to believe any response that wasn’t a confession of guilt. World's greatest detective over here, interrogating him for having the audacity to show up to Gotham with “Gasp!” Scars! Oh, the humanity! What a delinquent!

Ancients’ weren’t these prissy private schools supposed to be better than public schools? He walked to school today expecting to be murdered and or indoctrinated into a weird death cult not interrogated by Walmart Batman over here!

What was this guy expecting to drag out of him anyway? Blueprints for a deathray? A secret plot to break everyone out of Arkham? Secret rogue plans? He just got here today! What could he possibly be planning when his apartment didn’t even have toilet paper yet? They hadn’t even hit the 24-hour mark and he already had a conspiracy theorist pestering him.

“Why are you-“ Copycat Wes starts.

”Leave him alone you fucking moron!” A female voice snaps behind them.

“ You don’t understand! He-,” Sputtering to defend himself the girl glowered at him.

“Has done nothing to warrant your harassment,” She finished the sentence for him.

”No! He’s up to something I swear! Just look at him,”

The girl looked him up and down, her hazel eyes shooting daggers into his soul. “He looks like he’s a strong breeze away from a heart attack,”

Ouch.

"There is something wrong with him, you're just too dim to see it," He spits.

 

“Listen here you toe-eyed spaz, I don’t want to have to deal with Lightning Rod over here frying people to death because you wouldn’t stop tormenting him!” She seethed, jabbing her finger into Offbrand’s chest.

“How do you know he’s not going to do that regardless?”

She turns her attention back to him. “Are you going to start doing rogue shit?” She speaks calmly as if she’s asking about the weather.

He pretends to ponder for a second, checking his phone for dramatic effect. “ Nah, My sister says I’m not allowed to be a criminal outside my hometown. It’ll affect her chances of getting into a good college,” To his surprise, that’s an acceptable response for her.

”See, he’s fine.”

“Did you not hear a word he said?” Copycat sputters. “He just admitted to being a criminal,”

“And?”

“What do you mean, and?” The boy is red in the face now.

”That’s not our problem,” She replied bluntly.

“How is it not our problem?”

“It just isn’t,”

“It clearly is “ He emphasizes.

“This is why you keep getting mugged,” She snaps. “You’ve lived in Gotham your whole life, how have not learned how to mind your damn business,”

“I know how to mind my business. This is my business. You’re the one who butted in,”

“I’m a nosy bitch too. But I’m not the one who’s pretending to be Batman.” She’s smirking now, tapping her fingernails on her desk.

“I’m not pretending to be Batman,” He defends, hands clenched into fists. “I’m just doing my civic duty!”

“You’re delusional,”

“Well- at least I’m not a criminal,” Offbrand Wes sneered, whipping around to glare at him.

Oh great, he’s directly involved again.

“What a scathing remark, I’ll be sure to cry about it while I build my deathray,” Maybe he shouldn’t keep antagonizing. Offbrand looked about ready to strangle him.

“Now you’re pissing him off on purpose,” The girl behind them deadpans.

“ I am, thanks for noticing,” He’s giddy, a shit-eating grin on his face that would immediately get him shanked if he were outside right now.

Their conversation continues. The three of them whisper-yelling at each other. Offbrand Wes fumed at every one of Danny’s sarcastic responses, doubling down on his suspicions. With every absurd accusation thrown his way, the girl defended him. But if you listened in for more than a few seconds you could see she didn’t step to his defense for the sake of being nice. She just really hated this kid. Who could blame her?

The argument devolved into the two gothamites insulting each other in a way only rich kids could. Family names Danny barely recognized as important were thrown around like dodgeballs. Maybe if Danny kept up with celebrity drama he’d be able to tell who’s winning?

“Daniel Fenton? ” He almost jumps at the sudden interruption. He’d been so awestruck watching these two go at each other's throats that he hadn’t noticed anyone approaching them. The teacher is staring down at him; he smiles politely. Better to garner goodwill now rather than later.

”I’d like to see you after class today,” Oh god, already? What had he done to peeve this teacher? Did she hear them arguing? Offbrand was grinning, vindicated as Danny stumbled over himself.

“Oh- uh, will it take long? A friend said he’d help me find my classes since my map is a little off.” He offered up the map as proof. A sacrifice in hopes of leniency for whatever crimes he’s about to be accused of.

The woman looked over the paper, her relaxed expression dropping with the growing confusion.

“Can I see your schedule?” Danny hands it over without a word. Slowly, she ran her fingers against the brail of his schedule. The slow shift in her stance as her face paled felt like it’d been ripped straight from the trailer of a horror movie. He’s heard a lot of crazy things in his life but nothing would ever shock him more than what his teacher said next.

“We’re going be sued into the fucking ground,” Her words were barely audible, whispered behind a closed fist. Danny’s stunned silence was a thousand times louder. Teachers could swear here?! Isn’t that illegal? He sits speechless for an agonizing minute, unsure if he’s in trouble.

Wordlessly, she drags him to the front of the classroom. It feels like he’s being walked to the gallows.

“Do you mind if I keep this?”

”Yeah? I need to know my schedule,” Was wandering around clueless detention for Gotham schools? He hadn’t even done anything. Sure, he was a tad bit tardy this morning. That’s the plane's fault, not his!

“You don’t have a school iPad?” She sounds utterly exasperated.

“No,” He’s supposed to have a school iPad?

“Did they at least give you a proper school I.D.?”

”I hope so ” He shows her the plastic card he’d been given alongside his schedule. She scrutinized the card, glaring intently at every word. It’d taken hours to get a decent photo for that stupid card.

“There’s something wrong with it isn’t there?” Screwed over straight from the get-go. He’ll be haunting the front desk for the foreseeable future.

“No, no it’s fine,” She waves him off. “Leave the map with me and drop your schedule off at the front desk when you leave for the day okay?” He nods, that’s all he can do at the moment.

When the bell finally rang their teacher practically shooed his classmates out the door. Students clogged the doorway, a glob of tangled backpacks that slowly oozed into halls separating with miffed expressions. The tile floor couldn’t be more appealing as he waited for the bomb to drop. In a fancy school like this, the punishment for tardiness could be public execution. You never know.

The punishment for seeing the school guidance counselor had been public humiliation with a side of attempted murder. So capital punishment being carried out in schools wasn’t something he’d be surprised about. They’d better have a guillotine, he’s gotten pretty sick of the electric chair.

“Is your friend coming to get you?” The woman asks, still studying the map with a furrowed brow. She squinted at the paper holding out in front of her face like the distance would change the image.

“I think so, he dropped me off here,” Danny pauses, fiddling with the buttons on the cuffs of his sleeves. “I’m not in trouble, am I?”

She shakes her head much to his relief “Somebody’s going to be in trouble but it certainly isn’t you,”

Patterned knocking at the classroom door draws his attention from the woman. Green eyes met blue as Damian quietly entered the room.

“That’s him!” Beaming, he turns back to the teacher. “Can I go now?” She nods wordlessly. With her approval, Danny doesn't hesitate for a second. He darts over to the other boy with a relieved grin on his face.

“How was class?” He asks as they step out of the classroom.

”Unnoteworthy,” Damian hummed.

”Same,” I mean, technically he did get into a fight. But it wasn’t exactly something to write home about. Blows hadn’t been exchanged and he wasn’t gut-punched with a month's worth of detention. Yet.

The walk to the lunch room is heavily crowded. The cafeteria echoed with the chattering of a sea of teenagers. Their navy blue uniform made clusters of students indistinguishable from one another. Sam would hate it here.

“Hey, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate lunch here?”

“Ten. I bring my food from home,” Damian responds quickly pausing afterward as if he’s contemplating a second answer.

“Fair,” He shrugs “nothing beats some home-cooked edible food,” Memories swirled through his brain like he’s a soldier fresh out of war. Reanimated turkeys, living mashed potatoes, gallons of milk that glowed bright enough to light an entire room.

“I reckon your parents’ aren’t the best chefs?” He can barely hold back a wince at the question.

”They try to be…” He sighs “Dad can make some killer fudge but everything else he cooks looks radioactive,”

“I suppose I can relate to that” Damian drawls, “Most of the family is barred from the kitchen without supervision,”

“That’s probably a good idea, learning to cook can be pretty messy,”

” I take it you’re the cook of your family?” Damian asks, eyebrows raised.

“Eh, kind of? I’m not the best but I can make edible food,”

“The bare minimum you know?” He laughs. “My parents are scientists so there wasn’t exactly time for cooking lessons while they were drilling us on safely handling their machinery,”

Damian looks him up and down, eyes locking on his face. “I don’t think those ‘drills’ did you well,”

“They did. I deliberately ignored what they taught me; fucked around and found out,” He shrugs. The past is the past and he’s learned not to change it for his own sake.

“I see…”

“Soooo…” Danny starts, the silence between the two of them awkward. “How would you rate the school-provided lunch?” He reiterated.

”I’ve only eaten the school-provided lunch once but I’d say it’s a four, maybe four point five if I’m being generous,”

”I’d settle for edible,” It’s a private school. Sure, it being in Gotham threw him off a little but what’s the worst that could happen? He dies? A bit too late for that.

“Your standards concern me,”

“Take that up with my school cafeteria; they gave me those standards,” To be fair, his parents contributed to that too. So had Nasty Burger. He had a love-hate relationship with food especially when it’s from a school cafeteria.

Call him paranoid but Casper High fed people dirt and grass plucked from the football field as a “Vegan option” Don’t even get him started on the rocks. Whole ass stones almost as big as his fist. They’d been expected to eat that?! Anyone who’d gotten nailed with one of those suckers when ‘food’ started flying, forever had his sympathy. Nobody was hospitalized but he’d seen the dents in the wall when they made him clean the cafeteria. Rocks were chucked in that food fight.

He’d gathered his lunch without much of an issue. The salad wasn’t sentient and his sandwich hadn’t screamed at him yet. He’d even managed to remember his lunch number at the end of it! Today’s a good day to be pleasantly surprised by the bare minimum. God knows he's gonna need the extra positivity.

Walking through the cafeteria, he spots Damian pretty quickly. The other somehow found himself one of the only empty tables in the whole cafeteria. When Damian waves him over it takes all his self-control to stifle a grin. For a split second, he’d thought he’d overstepped. Thought he’d missed the signs that Damian wanted him gone like Dad missed the signs that Vlad was a psycho.

“Are you really the chef of your family?” Damian questions.

“I am,” he grins, as Damian eyes him skeptically. “Does this-“ Danny gestures at himself. “Not look like the textbook example of a five-star chef to you?”

“Absolutely not,” Damian replied coldly without skipping a beat. “You look like you could burn a bowl of cereal,”

“I can cook, it just took a while to learn how,” You could only learn so fast when every ingredient is contaminated by a mystery cocktail of chemicals.

Even if he wasn’t a master chef he’s better than he was those first months after the accident. So many dishes shattered against the floor. He’d been scolded for each one. Anything he tried to hold slipped from his grasp before the ten-second mark.

“Could you give me any advice?” Damian asked.

“Try out some pasta recipes,” He comments between bites of his sandwich. “They’re hard to screw up and almost every cookbook has about a dozen you can practice,”

“Don’t go with overly complicated recipes straight off the bat. If you’re trying to make a three-course dinner when you can barely make a peanut butter jelly sandwich you’ll end up with a whole lot of wasted food and some scratched pans,” Danny warns, he’s lost count of the hours he’d spent scrubbing the charred food out of pots and pans.

“Alfred wouldn’t be happy about that,”

“Maybe you should ask ‘Alfred’ to teach you,” Danny comments, he wasn’t a tutor. That’s Jazz’s job. Sure, he’d like to be helpful but his journey in the kitchen involved resurrected coleslaw and radioactive dairy products. An experience few could relate to.

“I taught myself with YouTube tutorials, cookbooks, and spite; I’m sure you’d learn better with someone with someone there to give you feedback on what you’re doing.”

“Tch,” Damian glowered, shooting daggers down at his food.

“I’m serious!” He emphasizes, “Trying to wing it straight off the bat just isn’t a good idea,” He knew from experience. Food poisoning isn’t fun. Neither were the blisters you’d get from boiling oil.

“I’m sure many people ‘wing it’ in the kitchen,” Damian insists. “What if I’m a naturally born chef?”

”Didn’t you say you’re barred from the kitchen?” Damian’s cheeks turn a flustered red.

”I said most of my family is barred from the kitchen!” Damian defends like Danny’s ‘accusation’ is a slight against his character.

”Are you included in that ban?”

”…yes” The other boy whispers begrudgingly. He tries, he really does, but there’s no stopping the quiet giggle that erupts from his chest. Damian glares daggers at him cheeks rosy with embarrassment.

”I swear I’m not laughing at you,” He wheezes. It’s a lie and both of them know it.

”Go ahead and laugh, I’m not the one who fried myself,” Damian huffs.

Danny made jokes about his accident all the time. Much to everyone else's dismay his lab accident was his go-to event to joke about. No matter how many times he got scolded for “Making people uncomfortable” he kept it up. This wasn’t the first time someone had made a comment but there’s something about the way he said it. Something about the way he emphasized his words made Danny lose all composure. Collapsing into his folded arms, shoulder shaking with silent laughter.

”Hey…” The other boy’s voice is weaved with concern a guilty lift to his voice. Gently, he pokes Danny’s arm. Any worry drained from his features when Danny lifted his head to look at him.

”I thought I'd upset you!” Damian half shouts.

”Nah, I’ve got thicker skin than that,” He reassures.

”You're the first, Others tell me I come off rather… cold,”

“Really?” That’s a surprise. Danny couldn’t see it, then again he hasn’t known Damian for very long. After all that’s happened, he’d like to think he’s a better judge of character. The other boy didn’t give off Penelope spectra vibes. Nor did he act like a miniature Vlad. If anything, he reminded him of Sam.

“You’re a liar if you think I’m friendly,” He snaps scowling at Danny as if he’d just spat in his lunch or something.

”I’m not a liar, I just have a different definition of friendly than you do,”

“Does your definition of friendly happen to be rich?”

“Fuck no!” He snaps without thinking. Raising an eyebrow Damian stares at him green eyes scrutinizing his expression like there’s deeper meaning in his words. “Eat the rich,” He clarifies, as if that’s supposed to explain anything.

“Friendliness is compassion, a willingness to help, not sugar-sweet conversations with extroverted compassion,” It’s easy to put on a sweet voice while you screw someone over. Even easier to insult someone with a snidely worded ‘compliment’.

“You helped me without hesitation when you could have left me to fend for myself,”

“The situation was ridiculous, I had to help.” Damian defends

“ You didn’t have to,” he points out.

“Listen, I’m not trying to challenge your view of yourself; I’m just saying you’ve been nice to me so far,”

Damian relaxes, staring down at his lunch. “I pity you,”

“Pity me enough to give me a bite?” Danny asks, batting his eyes obnoxiously.

“Absolutely not,”

“Fuck.”

[werepuppy-steve]

promise you forever

steddie ☆ 971 ☆ cw: none ☆ appalachian eddie ☆ ao3

“phone for ya, eds,” wayne chuckles as he comes out of the house to the front porch where everyone’s sitting. “think your boy’s had one too many.”

eddie frowns and stamps down the worry bubbling inside him. steve rarely ever drinks anymore. doesn’t smoke anymore, either. not since starcourt. eddie slides off the porch swing where he’d been sitting with his aunt pep and goes inside to the wall phone in the kitchen, the receiver laying on the counter.

“steve?” he says, lifting the phone to his ear.

“country boy, i love youuuuuuuu!”

steve’s words are slurred, which doesn’t make eddie any less panicked. what happened? was he okay? eddie leaves to visit his family for one week and he can’t seem to escape the horrors that hawkins, indiana seems to breed every day.

“stevie? baby, you okay?” eddie tries to keep his voice from shaking.

there’s a laugh on the other line and steve flat out yells into the phone, “eddie! hi!” yep. he’s definitely drunk. eddie strains to hear any background noise that would give any hints as to where steve is at, but it’s silent.

eddie’s knuckles grip the phone. “where are you, sweetheart? are you safe?”

steve makes a grumbling noise, like he’s talking to someone else and eddie doesn’t know if that makes him feel better or worse.

“i’m fiiiiiine, eds,” steve says after another second of grumbling. “teds. teddy. teddy bear.” he starts listing ever iteration of eddie’s name, and eddie doesn’t want him to stop. if he keeps going, then eddie knows he’s not in immediate danger.

“dingus! stop hogging the phone!”

wait.

“robbie, i’m trying to talk to me boyfriend,” steve whines and there’s sounds of a scuffle and “no—hey—robin, it’s still my turn—!”

“hi, eddie!” robin’s voice is suddenly in his ear and sounding just as drunk as steve. jesus christ, eddie’s never leaving them unsupervised again.

eddie sighs and runs a hand down his face. “robin, where the hell are you? and why are you drunk?” these two are gonna finish what the bats started and put him in an early grave, he swears it.

on her end, robin groans. “dingus!” she scolds steve. “you didn’t remind him?”

“remind me of what, bobbie?” eddie asks. now that he’s sure the two of them are somewhat coherent and probably not in danger, he feels so fucking tired all of a sudden.

“it’s my birthday, doofus!”

well now eddie feels awful. steve reminded him before he and wayne left, but in all the excitement of seeing the rest of his family again, it slipped eddie’s mind.

robin continues, “and you, theodore munson!”

if eddie thought he was off the hook, he’s dead wrong. he’s never hearing the end of this now. it’s not likely, but maybe luck will be on his side for once and she’ll forget this conversation ever happened.

“you owe me a birthday breakfast, lunch, and dinner when you get back. and you have to buy me a present.”

eddie rests his forehead on the wall as a laugh bubbles up out of his chest at the ridiculousness of the situation. “alright, birdie,” he promises. “as soon as i get back, i’ll start right on it and get you the most expensive present i can afford.”

“it better break your bank account, munson!” she threatens, but eddie knows she’s bluffing.

“alright, birthday girl, can you put steve back on?”

robin yells out for steve. “you better not be doing any hanky panky on my birthday, dingus,” she warns before steve comes on the line.

“hi, baby.” he’s definitely still drunk, but he’s quieter, not yelling into the phone like he was a few minutes ago.

warmth fills eddie’s chest and he leans his shoulder on the wall, angling himself away from the door to give himself a sense of privacy in case anyone comes inside. “hey sweetheart,” he says just as softly. “you two having fun?”

he can practically see steve’s nod. “mhm,” he confirms. “miss you, though. wish you were here.”

eddie’s gonna marry this boy someday, just you wait.

“i miss you, too, sugar,” eddie tells him. “wayne said he thinks you’ve had a little too much to drink.”

“no i haven’t!” steve’s voice raises for a second before dropping back down again. “just had one… three… four beers, i promise.”

eddie hums, not bothering to hide the amused grin on his face. “uh-huh. s'at why you sound drunker than a skunk, right now, sweet thing?”

steve huffs and eddie wants so badly to kiss the pout off his boyfriends lips. “m'not drunk,” he says without any real argument.

“alright, i believe you,” eddie concedes. he can’t help but to let a little worry back in. he bites his lip. “can you promise me something, stevie?”

steve’s answer is immediate and almost shatters eddie’s heart. “i’ll promise you forever, teddy.”

eddie takes a breather to calm himself down so he doesn’t jump in wayne’s truck and make the five hour drive back to hawkins. “promise me you’ll call nancy if either of you start to feel weird?”

steve hums in his ear, like a purring cat. “i promise, baby. cross my heart ‘n everything.”

eddie grins and wishes he was there in front of him so he could touch him. “thank you. i won��t keep you any longer, then. i’m sure birdie’s getting impatient.”

“she’s always impatient,” steve huffs. “it’s her best quality.”

there’s no argument there.

“i love you, stevie. call me tomorrow when you wake up?”

steve sighs softly. “i love you, eddie.” he makes exaggerated kissing noises over the phone until he hangs up.

eddie hangs the receiver up. he’s here in his grandmother’s kitchen, surrounded by his family, but his heart has never felt as full as it does in this moment.

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