#I've had this in my inbox for three days- I just really liked looking at the photos and rereading it

[tetsumie]

"𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐎 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘" 𝐏𝐓 𝟐

read part 1 here!

pairing: kuroo x reader & bokuto x reader

genre: hurt/comfort

content: the boys call you clingy but they don’t mean it

a/n: hello ahhh it's been awhile since i've posted but i'm trying to get back into the habit of writing again! someone in my inbox had requested me to add bokuto to this list so i tried my best but i hope you all enjoyed this and feel free to stop by my inbox to leave a comment, tell me your thoughts, or just lmk how it's going hehe :,)

kuroo tetsuro

"i'm home," a mumble echoed out into the empty living room.

at the sound of the door opening, you make your way out of your shared bedroom to greet your overworked boyfriend, kuroo.

"hi baby," you replied with a tired smile on your features.

the door closes and kuroo slides off his slacks, loosens his tie, runs his fingers through his hair, and sighs in exhaustion.

"hey."

"have you eaten dinner yet?" you start to ramble. " i can warm up dinner and we could maybe share a meal together?"

"we haven't spent much time together in a while so you know.. i was just thinking... we could do something small together?"

you continue to ramble about how you spent all evening trying a new recipe you saw on tiktok that really fascinated you.

but kuroo is not having it.

all he wants to do is just go to bed and forget the past couple shitty days he's had at work. today, especially, was stressful considering how nothing had gone his way and the higher ups just wouldn’t stop giving him a hard time.

he kept his frustration, tiredness, anger all bottled up for the past couple days and they were all about to boil out.

on top of that, your constant rambling isn't helping. you keep talking and talking and talking and his mind is beginning to get cloudy and his anger is about to boil over.

his voice rises and he finally speaks, "god y/n.. can you just shut the fuck up and stop being all up in my space? you're so fucking clingy just leave me alone."

oh.

you mouth shuts up mid sentence and you're looking down at your feet, too embarrassed to even look him in the eye after hearing his true feelings.

"sorry, i just wanted to spend some time and talk and relax with you..." your voice goes quiet. "you've been out really late for the past couple days so i was just hoping-"

however, kuroo's outburst isn't over yet. if anything, your little comment voicing your concerns seems to have make him a bit more upset.

"yeah, i've been out late because of how suffocating it is here at home with you. god, it's like you just can't take a fucking hint! just leave me the fuck alone!" he says and your eyes go a bit glassy.

"r-right," you say as you're turning around so he doesn't see the tears forming in your eyes. "sorry, i'll respect your wishes and give you your space."

seeing your hunched figure walking away brought him back to his senses.

what the fuck did i just say to them? oh my god.

"y/n wait i'm sorry-" he begins but is cut off.

"kuroo, i think you've said enough tonight."

the sound of his last name coming out of your mouth leaves a bitter taste in his mouth and he knows he's fucked up immensely. the door to the bedroom closes, indicating that you're clocking out for the night and you can't deal with this conversation any bit longer.

kuroo sits himself on the couch with his head in his hands, shaking his head.

what the hell did i just say to them? it's not even their fault... i just... how the hell do i make it up to them?

kuroo walks to the door and places three subtle knocks on the door, begging for permission to enter. he's greeted with no acknowledgement or response.

he turns the knob and to his surprise it opens. there, he sees you fast alseep in your comforter in a fetal-like position. he goes into the closet, changes into his pajamas, and immediately climbs into bed.

he brings you close to his side of the bed, specifically putting your head on his chest. he begins to stroke your hair and places gentle kisses on your head, mumbling soft "i'm sorry's" and "i love you's."

he's praying to whatever deity out there that this would blow over by tomorrow morning or something.

but kuroo wakes up the next morning to his worst nightmare: you're not in bed with him. he feels his blood run cold and he's running the worst case scenarios in his head.

he rushes out of the bedroom to see that you're nowhere in the apartment. he sees a bright colored post-it note stuck on to the fridge with a note scribbled in your handwriting.

"i'm staying at a friend's house for the next couple of days. i just need time to think for a bit. there's some leftovers from last night in the fridge so make sure you eat those.

love u always, y/n"

kuroo's hands shake as he's holding your post-it note.

of course, they'd leave. i treated them like shit and hurt them so badly of course they want to leave. but even after everything, they still love me… i don’t deserve them.

kuroo begins to spiral and the next couple of days aren't any easy for him.

every attempt at texting or calling you has lead to no response. he goes to sleep without you next to him, holding back tears every time. every morning without fail, he pats the vacancy next to him in hopes that you'll be there but to his demise, every time, you're not. work feels even more lethargic than usual. before, he used to look forward to coming home to you but now you're not even at home so what's the point in even trying. counting down the hours until he gets to leave his cubicle has become futile.

i just really want them back. please come back home.

but when he comes home from a pain achingly long day of work, he doesn't find you and his mood plummets even more.

that is until one day, kuroo is able to leave work early where he comes home and hears the familiar noise of the coffee maker brewing. his eyes shoot up from his slacks to look over at the kitchen where he sees you in all your beauty, fidgeting with the knobs on the coffee machine. your eyes both lock and you immediately look away.

kuroo thought you were gone for good. and the fact that you were only a couple feet away from him made his heart swell and his eyes water. there's so much to say but his not a single word is escaping his mouth.

"you want some coffee? i just started a new batch," you finally say to fill up the silence of the room.

he gulps, "sure yeah."

you grab a coffee cup and pour him a fresh cup of coffee and slide it to him across the kitchen counter, avoiding getting too close to him.

too nervous to even touch his drink, he begins to address the elephant in the room, "y/n, i'm so sorry for what i said that night. i had no right to speak to you in the manner."

"it's okay," you say in a curt manner. "i get it."

he shakes his head and tries to get closer to you to convey his feelings but is stopped when he sees you take a step back. his heart cracks.

"no it's not okay sweetheart. i've been so busy with work and i just got super overwhelmed with everything and-"

"kuroo, you know you don't have to make any excuses right?" you interrupt his train of thought.

he's confused now. "excuses? y/n what are you even talking about- "

"just end it with me already... i know you want to," you say, looking down at the fresh cup of coffee in your hands. "you made that very clear."

his world freezes.

the world becomes completely silent.

his mouth is slightly open, caught off guard. he doesn't know what to say.

however, you interpret his silence as him putting down the excuses finally and admitting that he doesn't want to put effort into this relationship with you anymore.

hell, he doesn’t even want this relationship with you anymore.

"right, if you won't i will so it's easier for the both of us. i think we should-"

"don't you dare finish that fucking sentence," he moves close to you all of a sudden and his familiar lingering cheap cologne smell takes up your senses. the gears begin to click in his head before you can respond to him.

kuroo's arms envelop you in his embrace. "i want you. only you. i'm sorry i made you think otherwise."

the tears you've been holding back for the past couple minutes standing in front of him overflow and you feel like the world is about to end.

you push kuroo off you slightly. "i know you've been busy with work and i just wanted to spend some time with you. i never meant to come off as clingy but clearly you thought so so-"

"i'm just a complete douche,” he interrupts. “you were trying to help me out and make me feel better and i was so caught up with work, i couldn't appreciate that."

"i never want to ever make you feel that way again. you never deserved to hear any of that from me and everything i said couldn't be far from the truth. your presence has never been a bother and if anything, coming home to you is the best part of my day.”

“i shouldn't have let my emotions get the best of me and i'm so sorry that it did and that i hurt you in the process. i hate that i’m the reason behind your tears and i’ll do everything to make it up to you to show you how much i love you."

the tears from your eyes continue to flow and he delicately wipes every single one from your eyes kissing your cheek every time without fail.

"are you sure you don’t find me suffocating? you said that you hated being home with me though so i just thought-" you start to say.

"i will spend my entire life reassuring you that it isn’t true. i promise you are never suffocating me and your presence never fails to make me feel better on a shitty day. i will do anything to regain your trust and faith in me,” he adamantly speaks with his hands in yours.

hearing his determined resolve, the tears flow even more.

"i love you so much, tetsu."

"i love you too baby," he smiles and delicately kisses your lips. "now let's go out. how do you feel about going out for dinner? i’ve got a lot of making up to you to do."

"i'll never say no to that."

bokuto koutaro

the msby jackals lost 2-0 sets and the entire team was taking the loss hard but no one as hard as bokuto.

"bokuto-san, what do you think went wrong today's game?" an interviewer asks with his notepad out, scribbling notes.

"er, uh, well, today was just a rough day and i had a tough time keeping up with the opponent's plays today... it just was not a good day."

"i have one more question," the interviewer asks.

"go ahead," he gruffs out.

"you are known for your infamous line shots especially during deciding moments of the game. you missed multiple of these shots during today's game. were you distracted during this game? is it because of your new relationship status or were-"

bokuto is now riled up. who the hell does this interviewer think he is to corner me and bring in my personal life???

"i'm leaving, fuck this shit," he spits out, trying his best to maintain his composure.

in frustration, bokuto storms out of the press conference room, slamming the double doors, heading towards the locker room to grab his stuff but is stopped by you, running after him.

"kou! wait up!" you say from a distance and he stops in his tracks to look at you. he's still internally raging from the provocative behavior of that interviewer and he feels like he just might lose it.

"what do you want," he says in an aggressive manner that catches you off guard.

you’re aware of the recent loss of the msby jackals. you know that's probably taking a toll on his confidence as a player so you're trying to be as supportive as you can.

"you wanna come back to my place? i was thinking we could watch that one disney movie you like and we could bake something together too? what do you think?"

"why do you always want to fucking hang out?" he says in the lowest tone of voice you've ever heard from him.

it sends shivers down your spine.

"huh?" you're just confused at this point.

"why are you so fucking clingy all the time? it's always 'kou come over!' or 'kou let's watch a movie!' or 'kou let's take a nap together!' like don't you fucking get that i have a genuine career that i'm working really hard to be successful in?"

so that's what he thinks of me.

"i know you want to be a pro volleyball player and i want to support you the entire way. i was just trying to be there for you and help you relax..." you trail. "i get today was really rough for you.."

"that's the thing you don't get it, y/n!" he says exasperatedly. "if you did want to be supportive for me and my career, then you would stop being so all up on me and give my space!"

he walks into the locker room, slamming the door, shaking you up.

in defeat, you begin to leave the stadium with tears brimming your eyes. as you get in your car, you put your head on the steering wheel and suddenly, the tears start to stream out.

"i'll give him his space. i'll just stop everything. i'm nothing of importance to him or his life so it's best if i just stop." you convince yourself.

bokuto, on the other hand, is in the locker room, holding back tears of frustration as he punched one of the lockers.

fuck, what am i even doing right now...

"bokuto-san! let's head out for the night," shoyo's voice can be heard before he can be seen in the locker room. "we're gonna go get drinks and dinner at that new barbecue place that opened up."

he looks up from the bench and smiles at shoyo along with the rest of his teammates that are nodding along in support.

"yeah, sure. fine with me," kou responds with a small smile on his face.

as bokuto and the rest of the jackals are out and about, he keeps looking at his phone in hopes of getting a message or something from you but you're completely radio silent after the spat between the two of you.

he knows you both had a disagreement but he thought you knew that he was just frustrated and upset with the game. he didn't think it was a reason to just go silent on him.

he sends a text to test the waters.

kou <3: babe, we're good right?

he puts his phone down and engages back in the dinner with the rest of the jackals.

an hour has passed yet still no response. it's starting to make him fidgety so he decides to spam you.

kou <3: hello?

kou <3: baby wya???

kou <3: where is the loml at :((

kou <3: BABYYYYYYY

kou <3: POOKIE PLS TXT ME BACK :(((

y/n is typing...

y/n: sry i was getting ready for bed.

you sounded distant. you clearly were upset but was it still about the argument? c'mon you knew he didn't mean what he said... right?

kou <3: ITS OKAY BABY! can i come over? i wanna spend the night with u :,)

kou <3: i miss you

y/n: maybe not tonight... i think it's best if we're by ourselves for a bit

bokuto's hair significantly drooped down, seeing as how he got rejected to hang out with you for the night.

as bokuto heads over to his apartment for the night, he stares at the bedroom ceiling with his thoughts. he misses laying next to his baby. that's when he starts to replay everything that went down between the two of you.

he genuinely can't figure out what went wrong.

he prays that this whole thing will just blow over by tomorrow because he misses you incredibly and just wants to spend time with you.

unfortunately to his demise, you kept shutting down all of kou's efforts to come over. you refused to pick up his calls, resorting to half assed texts.

this whole argument was festering and bokuto had to fix it immediately.

you, however, want nothing more than to spend time with your boyfriend but his words kept running through your mind on loop. anytime you would be sitting alone with yourself, his words kept playing themselves on loop in your brain, making you overthink the post couple months you’ve spent together.

has he always thought of me as clingy? have i always been a bother to him? have i always been super annoying in his eyes?

that was until you heard a knock on the door.

you open the door and see kou standing there in a hoodie and a pair of khakis with a large bouquet of assorted flowers in his hands. his eyes lock with yours while yours widen in surprise.

"k-kou! what are you doing here?" you say in surprise.

"what, i can't see my partnet now?" he retorts lightheartedly. "let me in."

too stunned to even reject him, your hand inherently finds its way to the knob, widening the door so bokuto can fit through into your apartment.

he tries to hand you the flowers but you stand there, hands refusing to move from their sides. "c'mon babe, i got them for you! do you not like them? man, i knew i should've gotten the roses instead."

"no no! thank you so much kou.. i'm just surprised that you even got this for me..." you trail off looking away from him.

he sets the flowers on the kitchen counter and tilts his head in confusion. "what do you mean, y/n?"

"listen, i know you don't really like spending time with me and that you feel obligated to but honestly, we really don't have to hang out or anything like that," you begin to say. "i know i can be a lot sometimes and i'm really working on trying to give you space."

that's when it all clicks in his head for him.

"baby, is this about what i said that day in the gym?" he questions.

you turn away, refusing to even look him in the eye because you know the moment your eyes lock with his, the tears will start streaming down your face.

"baby, no, please," he goes over to you to give you the warmest yet tightest hug possible. "i’m also a very clingy person so i should've known how much my words must have hurt you. i've been so stupid to not see how badly my words must have impacted you, my love. i'm so so sorry for saying and acting the way i did. it's unexcusable."

"no kou it's fine i just-" you say but are interrupted midsentence.

"no, y/n it's not," he says, tears brimming his eyes ever since coming to terms with how hurt you must've been feeling this entire time. "i'll do anything to get your forgiveness and for us to just... be close again. i'll do anything, i mean it."

tears are streaming down both your faces and you can't help but form a wobbly smile on your lips. "pinky promise?"

"pinky promise," kou says as he locks pinkies with you and kisses the top of your head. "now let's cuddle because i've missed being near the love of my life."

© tetsumie 2024 all rights reserved 

[aliendes]

SVT Reaction to yelling at you for the first time/saying something hurtful

a/n: *gasp* I'm actually posting something after... checks watch... 4 years?! holyyyyy shit! anyways, this wasn't requested, I've been been brainrotting over SVT and anyone who knows me knows I love the angst. if you want to see more of SVT or have a request, hit up my inbox! i missed writing and tbh this is probably complete shit. I'm just trying to get back into it slowly before I write any behemoths like I used to. anywhooooooooo, here's some angsty AF SVT reactions.

w/c: 5,000~ (this is normal for me, unfortunately)

warnings: angssssst, some name calling (sl*t is used in a derogatory way by one of the boys I'm so sorry), one of the boys gets slapped (he deserves it), and overall just a lot of hurt no comfort. let me know if I missed anything that needs a warning.

let me know if you wanna see a part 2!

Seungcheol (S.coups)

He can be hot-headed and while he can have a sharp tongue sometimes, he doesn’t actually mean the things that he says in the heat of the moment. When he first raised his voice at you to tell you to “Stop acting like a bitch!” he instantly regretted his choice of words. It wasn’t even that big of an argument, you had only asked him to tell you about practice and what was bothering him, but after the long day he had he really didn’t want to rehash the details. When you sighed your third sigh, he just… snapped. The look on your face told him all he needed to know. He’d hurt you with his words and his tone. He watched in real-time as your expression turned from one of annoyance to one of pure hurt. Before the tears started rolling down your cheeks, you turned from him and immediately locked yourself in the bathroom. 

“Baby?” He approached the door cautiously like he would an injured animal. And he guessed, you kind of were at this point. He lightly rapped his knuckles on the wooden door. “Baby, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean that.” His voice was hoarse, he was trying to hold back his emotions so he could fix this. He could hear you sniffling from the other side of the door, but you made no moves to unlock it. 

“Go away, Seungcheol.”

He flinched at the use of his full name, he hated when you called him that and you knew it. “Ok, I’ll leave you alone for right now, but please know that I did not mean that. I’m not mad at you, I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you, and I’m not going anywhere. Ok, baby?”

He heard a few more sniffles and a soft “ok”, before planting himself against the wall opposite the bathroom door. He’d wait here however long he needed to. 

Jeonghan 

Now, Jeonghan can be sassy and snippy, you know this. You are used to this and you know he can sometimes be more passive-aggressive than he means to be. You two typically work very well together and you never let his snarky comments get to you. Besides, he always ends up apologizing for his moods and you two move on.

This time, however, Jeonghan knows he fucked up. It started with him being late for dinner, which isn’t an unusual thing. Practice runs late oftentimes, it can’t be avoided. But tonight was date night and he wasn’t just a few minutes late, he was three hours late. By the time he got home, dinner was cold and you were snoozing on the couch already in your pajamas. Practice had been tough, their choreographer running through the chorus what felt like hundreds of times until they were all moving in synch. He was exhausted, so instead of waking you up or carrying you to bed like he normally would, he set his things down and went straight to wash up.

The sound of running water is what woke you. You wandered into the bathroom to find your boyfriend in the shower. You crossed your arms and leaned against the doorframe. “You didn’t wake me.”

Jeonghan startled a bit, not having heard you enter. “Sorry, lovey. I’m really tired.” You could hear the harshness of his voice and for a moment you felt guilty, but then you remembered he didn’t even text you he would be running late. 

“You didn’t call or text. It was date night.”

Jeonghan heaved a long sigh before turning off the shower and wrapping a towel around his waist. “It was a long day, love, please.”

“I know, Jeonghan and I’m sorry, but you know how important these nights are to me. You’re getting ready to leave again and-”

He cut you off, voice rising, “Y/N, just stop. I’m exhausted, and you’re being incredibly clingy right now.”

“What- Jeonghan excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He brushed past you, bumping into your shoulder on his way out of the bathroom. 

“Jeonghan! Hey!” You followed after him, not realizing how hot-headed your boyfriend was right now. “You can’t just say shit like that to me!”

“You know what Y/N? I can, now for the love of God, leave me alone!” His voice was louder than you’d ever heard him speak to you before. He was yelling at you. You stood, stunned, in the doorway to your shared bedroom, but Jeonghan wasn’t done. “Either you sleep on the couch or I will, because I don’t want to be around you right now.”

Something inside you snapped, hearing those words from your usually sweet boyfriend. “Don’t bother, Jeonghan. I’ll be at my sister’s.”

You don’t even bother packing a back, just grabbing your purse and phone and leaving, despite only wearing pajamas. Jeonghan followed you out of the bedroom, watching you leave, realizing what he had done as he watched the front door slam behind you. He ran his hands through his still-wet hair, closing his eyes. “Fuck.”

Joshua

Joshua is the biggest sweetheart, so you two don’t fight very often. You have small, petty arguments sometimes, but Joshua is always the first to admit defeat, even if he wasn’t in the wrong, simply because he hates fighting with you that much. 

Tonight, though, he was on a different level of mad. Was it justified? Maybe not, but it didn’t stop him from seeing red when he saw you touching your coworker's arm when he pulled up to pick you up from work. One thing Joshua couldn’t stand, was cheaters, having been cheated on in the past. Parking his car, he honked the horn just once to get your attention.

Immediately, you turned and looked at your boyfriend, smiling wide and bright. It almost made him forget why he was upset in the first place. You turned back to your group of coworkers and waved goodbye before jogging over to the passenger door and getting into your boyfriend’s ride. 

“How was work?” He asked coldly, not bothering to look at you. “Who was that?”

You looked at Joshua confused, brows furrowing, “Who?”

“That guy you were just all over,” he responded, putting the car into drive and pulling away from the sidewalk, “you know the one you were flirting with?”

You blanched. There’s no way your sweet, loving Joshua was accusing you of something right now. He’s joking, right? “You’re joking, right?”

Joshua finally turned and looked at you, and you could tell by the look in his eye that he was dead serious. “Josh, that’s my coworker, Jihyun. I’ve told you about him before, you know the-”

“Save it, Y/N. I saw the way you were looking at him, and you knew I was coming to pick you up, did you just want to rub it in my face?! Huh?” His voice was louder than you’d ever heard it before. His usually calm, soft demeanor had completely changed and it was starting to scare you, before you could get a word in he continued, “Or do you just act like that with all your coworkers?! Like a slut?”

The dam broke and tears started streaming down your face. “Stop the car.”

“No, you’re going to tell me-”

“STOP the car Josh!” You yelled through tears. It stunned him out of his momentary anger and he blinked at you. “STOP!”

He pulled over to the sidewalk, and before he could even put the car in park you were out the door with your bag, leaving your phone behind in his center console. “Y/N! Wait!”

“Save it, Josh!” You slammed the car door and stalked away, leaving Joshua to stare, too stunned to move, but regretting his words instantly. 

Jun

“Please, baby, can we talk about his tomorrow?” Jun sighed into the phone. He was currently laying on his hotel bed, trying to fall asleep but you wouldn’t let him get off the phone. Not that he usually minded, but he was so exhausted from his shoot today that all he wanted was a few hours of sleep before he did it again. “I’m so tired, Y/N.”

“Junhui, this is important!” You whined, trying to go over the schedule for your sister’s wedding next week. He was part of the wedding party, and you were the maid of honor and it really was important that you have the times down for flights and pickups. “I just need to make sure you’re getting in before-”

“Y/N! Please!” Jun yelled into the phone, stunning you into silence. He never yelled, he was usually so calm and collected that his tone shut you up. “Just shut up, please! I can call you tomorrow and we can go over all of this, but right now I need to sleep! You have no idea how long my days are right now and listening you to whine and complain about this stupid wedding is getting on my last nerve!” The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. He knows how important this is to you and your family, hell, it’s important to him because he loves you and your family so dearly. He has not idea why he said it, but he can’t take it back now.

He could hear you sniffle on the other end of the phone, but before he could even try and make amends, you cut in, “You know what, Junhui. You’re right. Don’t bother showing up.”

The call ended before Jun could say anything and he immediately tried calling you back, only to be sent to voicemail, over and over again. 

“Baby, please. I am so, so sorry. Please pick up. I’ll be on a flight tomorrow after the shoot, I swear to you. Please, Y/N.” His voice broke on his last words and he hung up the phone with tears in his eyes. 

Soonyoung

Soonyoung was loud on a good day, so arguments between you two tended to get a little bit heated. That said, they were few and far between and your loving boyfriend never raised his voice at you. Despite this, you’ve heard his anger in the practice room, you just weren’t used to it being directed at you.

“I don’t understand why you always have to be on my back about shit, Y/N!” He boomed across the practice room. You two were the only ones in the large room, the others having left about 20 minutes ago after Soonyoung dismissed them. “Why can’t you just chill the fuck out?!”

You stared at your boyfriend in shock. He had never yelled at you like this before. And over what? You telling him he should take a break? 

“Soons, I didn’t mean it like that. I just think-”

“You just think, what?! That I can just drop everything to be with you all the time?! Why are you even here right now? You should be at home, not bothering me at work!”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you wouldn’t let them fall. Not in here. “I just wanted to bring you and the boys some dinner.” Your voice was small, but Soonyoung didn’t seem to pick up on your near tears, because the yelling continued. 

“We don’t need your help, Y/N! I don’t need your help! Just go home.” He spat, turning away from you to start packing up his bags. “I’ll be at the dorm.”

Without saying another word, you turned on your heels and ran out of the practice room and into the maze-like halls of the Hybe building, but not before Soonyoung heard your little gasps for air like you were about to have a full-blown panic attack. His anger completely dissipated at the sound, dropping everything he was doing to stand up and follow after you. 

He felt like an idiot. Did he really just blow up on you, his favorite person in the whole universe, over something so silly? He was just stressed, he didn’t mean it, but now he’s hurt you, his entire world. He rushed out of the practice room, but it was too late. You were nowhere to be found, even after he searched up and down the halls, the lobby, and even the roof. Running his hands through his hair, he headed back to grab his bag and keys and started heading back towards your shared apartment. He knew he had a lot to make up for, but he wasn’t sure what state he’d find you in.

Wonwoo

“Y/N just shut the fuck up for once!”

You stood, stunned into silence, in the doorway of your boyfriend's gaming room. Wonwoo opted to ignore your figure to continue playing whatever game he was playing on his computer, headphones still snug over his head. 

You had approached him asking if he would get off the games to go out to dinner with you. You’d been asking him all week if you two could go out together since he had the next two weeks off before preparing for his group’s next comeback. He pushed off your requests but you’ve finally had enough and pushed him to come out with you tonight, but boy was that a mistake. 

You knew you were starting to get on his nerves, but you didn’t understand why. All you wanted was to spend some time with your boyfriend before we got busy again and you weren’t able to. You felt like the two of you were drifting apart and this just confirmed it. He had never yelled at you like that before, and the fact that he wasn’t even turning around to look at you sealed the deal. 

“I’m sorry, Wonwoo.” Your words were soft as you turned around, slamming the door behind you. 

Wonwoo sighed again into his mic for the billionth time that night, only this time, Seungcheol on the other end had had enough. “You’re a fucking dick, dude.”

Wonwoo blanched at that, “What do you mean?”

“You just yelled at Y/N and she just apologized?” Did you? He couldn’t hear you over his game. Wonwoo pushed one side of his headphones off so we could listen to you out in the apartment. He heard shuffling around and furrowed his brows. “Dude, go fix it, she’s probably pissed at you.” Wonwoo only nodded, not realizing Seungcheol couldn’t see him, and shut his computer off. 

As he walked into your shared bedroom, he saw the tail end of you shoving things into a duffle bag. Shocked, he rushed over to you, reaching out to grab your arm, but you flinched away so hard he was paralyzed with shock. “Do not touch me Jeon Wonwoo!”

Shit. You used his full name, you never did that. “Baby, I-”

“Don’t call me that.” You said coldly, before grabbing your bag and heading for the door. “I’ll be at Sunmi’s.” You threw over your shoulder before walking out the front door and out of Wonwoo’s life. He watched you walk away and for a moment, just stood there dumbstruck, before falling to his knees with tears streaming down his face. 

Jihoon

Jihoon could easily get into aggravated or ‘mean’ moods and after being together for so long, you’ve learned when to give him space when he needs it. But when he’s been ignoring you for the better half of the whole week, you’ve had enough.

You knocked on his studio door three times and waited for an answer. Only you didn’t get one. You knocked again, but this time you kept knocking until you heard his grumbles from the other side of the door. 

“I’m coming! Jesus, Cheol, can you-”

When Jihoon opened the door to find you, his loving girlfriend of 5 years, his words are cut short. You smile slightly at him and push your way through the entrance of his studio, plopping yourself on his black leather couch.

“Since you don’t want to leave the studio, I decided to come to you.”

Jihoon felt his anger rising. So what if he’s been in his studio and the dorms for the last 6 days? He has a job to do and this album’s due date is next week. He has limited time and not enough hours in the day to complete this. You know this, and yet, here you are to bother him. 

“Y/N, go home.” He says cooly while taking a seat at his computer. 

“No.” You say simply, a smirk on your face. “I’m here to keep you company until you’re ready to come home.”

“Y/N…” he sighed, running a hand down his face.

“Don’t Y/N me, you can’t stay here cooped up like a hibernating bear. It’s not healthy, Ji.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Y/N. You know the deadline is coming up, I have to get this done.”

“I understand Ji, but-”

“Do you?” He yells, turning his chair to face your shocked one. “Do you actually understand the pressure I’m under Y/N?! No, you don’t, because all you do all day is sit at home and answer emails and phone calls. You don’t understand how hard I work when all you ever do is lay on the couch!”

Now that hurt. Jihoon knows you work hard, he does. He has been with you since before you finished your Masters in business and before you started working for this huge tech company. He knows that you work on important projects all day and you get stressed with meeting deadlines just like he does. He knows what he’s saying isn’t fair, but he just wants you out of his hair so he can finish these songs. 

His studio was silent for a few minutes as you both just sat there staring at eachother. You swallowed hard and Jihoon could tell you were holding your tears back. “I’m sorry, Jihoon, I didn’t realize you felt that way.”

“Wait-” Jihoon stood up and followed you as you rushed towards his studio door, “I didn’t mean-”

“Yes, you did.” He could hear the crack in your voice and his heart broke at the dejected look on your face. “Goodbye, Ji.”

You walked out the door, leaving Jihoon standing in the doorway regretting all the choices he’s made this week leading up to this moment. He wants to chase after you, wants to do something, anything, but the guilt keeps him rooted in place.

Seokmin

Your boyfriend is a literal embodiment of sunshine. He’s happy-go-lucky and positive like no one you’ve ever met before and it’s one of the main reasons you fell for Seokmin. He’s so sweet, and kind, and caring, that you are constantly asking yourself how you got so lucky to be his girlfriend, the one he loves most. 

So it’s safe to say that when you hear him yelling from the other room in your shared apartment, you’re pretty shocked. You spring up from your spot on the bed and rush out into the living room to see what he’s yelling about, assuming he found a bug, or something. Only, it wasn’t a bug. Seokmin was standing in the middle of your living room holding his phone out for you to see. 

“What the hell is this Y/N?!” His face was turning slightly red and you could tell he was angry. You moved closer to him and furrowed your brows as you read the large text at the top of the article. ‘Y/L/N Y/N leader of popular k-pop girl group is in secret relationship with amateur actor Park Seungmin’ was written across his phone screen with a photo of yourself and some small-time actor you didn’t recognize. “Who is he Y/N?!”

You looked back up at your boyfriend, confusion written all over your face. “Seokmin I have no idea, you know these articles come out all the time-” before you could finish, Seokmin was moving past the couch to push the phone in your face. Feeling defensive you shove at your boyfriend’s chest a little, not enough to actually move him but to get your point across, “Seok! Stop it!”

“No, Y/N, did you think I wouldn’t find out you were fucking this guy?” Seokmin shoved his phone back into his pocket but kept pushing into your space. “Think I wouldn’t figure it out? Is this where you’ve been when you’ve said you were at practice late?” His voice was raising and you were honestly a bit scared of him in the moment. You’ve never seen him so worked up about anything. 

“Seok, listen to me-”

“No! You can’t just-” “SEOKMIN!” You screamed just to get him to stop, you didn’t even care if your neighbors heard you. “Stop it! Stop, please!” There were tears running down your face and Seokmin looked devastated, whether it was because he truly believed you cheated or because he was regretting his words, you weren’t sure. “Get out. Please!”

“I, Y/N, I’m so-”

“OUT!” You sobbed, putting your face in your hands. 

“Oh - okay, I’ll stay at the dorms, but baby-”

“Just leave Seokmin.”

Mingyu

Your huge puppy dog of a boyfriend was the cuddliest, kindest, big-hearted person you had ever met in your life. Mingyu was so kind and caring and he never, ever raised his voice at you, even when he was upset (which happened sometimes, cause you’re human!). 

Which is why it was so startling when you came home to find him hunched over his phone, sitting on the couch, looking like his world was ending. You dropped your bag by the door, not bothering to look where you tossed your phone and keys, and ran over to Mingyu and placed your hands on his knees. 

“Baby? What’s wrong, what happened?” You peered up into his large brown eyes that were looking back at you with an anger you’d never seen in them before. The look he was giving you shocked you to the point you removed your hands from his knees as if he burned you. “Babe?”

“You have the nerve to ask me what’s wrong, when YOU are what’s wrong?” He glared daggers at you as he suddenly stood up, making you jump backwards slightly, hitting your back into the glass coffee table. You flinched but stayed still as Mingyu towered over you. He pointed his phone at you showing you a string of texts between him and Soonyoung. “This, this is what is wrong, Y/N!”

Your brows furrowed as you read the text messages, but you couldn’t, for the life of you remember sending them. “Mingyu, I think-”

“What the fuck is this Y/N?!” He screamed, making you jump again and wince as you hit your back for the second time. “Are you fucking him behind my back?!” This time your wince came from the sheer volume of your boyfriend’s voice. 

“Gyu, he must be pranking you, please calm down lovey.” Your voice was quiet now, you’ve never seen him like this and it was really starting to scare you. Why would he yell at you without asking questions first? It really stung, worse than the pain you were feeling in your spine. 

He scoffed, “You have some nerve coming back here.” With that he stalked off to your shared bedroom and slammed the door, locking it behind him and leaving you there on the floor of your living room, shocked and crying. 

You stood up, grabbed your bag, and called Joshua, explaining to him what was going on as you ran out of your apartment building to call a cab and head to your brother’s.

Minghao

Your boyfriend, Minghao, didn’t have a short fuse per se, but he definitely didn’t have the patience of a saint either. But that was fine because he never directed his anger at you. You were the light of his life, his only love, and he let you know that on a daily basis. So when the words “You’re acting fucking crazy right now” came out of his mouth, it absolutely shocked you. 

“Hao, what do you mean by that?” You asked him quietly, not quite believing he would say such words to you and mean them. You were having a rough day, no MONTH, and when you got home from work all you could think about was how messy the apartment was. You got straight to work scrubbing and cleaning everything you could see and when Minghao arrived home from practice you asked if he could help you with the refrigerator. 

It set off a small argument about him being tired after a long day, but you continued cleaning even when he asked you to stop and have dinner with him. He didn’t understand, you needed to get the apartment clean before you could relax. But to tell you you’re acting crazy? You’ve never heard him say those words before. 

“You heard me, Y/N. You need to chill the fuck out! Why are you always like this when you get stressed?! You need to learn how to fucking relax because it’s getting on my nerves!” Minghao yelled into the mostly quiet apartment, the only other sound aside from him was the aircon running in the corner. 

“I - I do- don’t…” you stuttered, dropping the sponge you were holding, “I’m s-sorry Hao, I-”

“Don’t, Y/N. Just please leave me alone.” Your usually sweet boyfriend stormed past you and into your bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. 

You took a few deep breaths like Minghao had taught you previously when you’ve had panic attacks, and sunk to the floor, back against the kitchen cabinets. You couldn’t stop the tears now, so you placed your head between your knees and tried fruitlessly to get your breathing to calm down. 

Minghao was in the other room, in a similar state after what he just said to you. But all he could do was sit and listen to your sobs while he figured out what exactly was wrong with him that he would be the cause of your hurt like that.

Seungkwan

Living with Boo Seungkwan, one of the sassiest idols in Korea, was bound to lead to spitfire arguments and fights occasionally. You were used to your little spats, always making up by the end of the evening. Seungkwan had a rule, after all - never go to bed upset. 

That is why you were so shocked to receive a phone call from your boyfriend right before you got off work. 

“Y/N I need you to stay somewhere else tonight.”

“Wait, what?” You were confused, you and Seungkwan had been living together for almost a year now, and he has never asked this of you before. “Where am I supposed to stay?”

“I don’t know, Y/N and frankly I don’t really care right now. I can’t believe you told Seungcheol about our trip.”

Your heart dropped to your feet at the mention of Seungcheol, because yes, you had accidentally let it slip that you and Seungkwan were planning a weekend trip to Jeju to visit his family and have a little getaway before they went on tour. You didn’t think it was a big deal at the time, as Seungkwan hadn’t asked you to keep it a secret or anything, but the look on Seungcheol’s face after you told him told you that Seungkwan most likely never planned on telling him. 

“We have a schedule on Saturday and I was planning on skipping it, and you’ve gone and ruined the whole thing.”

“I- I’m so sorry babe, I didn’t realize-”

“Save it, Y/N. I can’t believe you would go blabbing to Cheol of all people! Do you realize what you’ve done? I got chewed out in front of the whole group during practice today!” His voice was rising and your guilt was too. “Just, find someplace to stay tonight, I don’t want to see your face. And maybe this weekend too.” At that, your boyfriend ended the call, leaving you distraught at your desk. 

One of your coworkers noticed the tears running down your face and came over to ask if you were alright, and you nodded but said you needed to head home, as something important came up. She understood and let your boss know as you gathered your things and headed down to the subway. 

Back at your shared apartment Seungkwan was pacing back in forth in the living room, unbelieving of what he just said to you. Yes, he was rightfully upset, but that didn’t give him the right to ream you like that. You would come home, right? You had to, you had a rule, after all. You never went to bed upset. 

But Seungkwan waited up for you all night, calling your phone dozens of times before it eventually turned off. You never walked through the apartment door and now he has no idea where to find you. 

Vernon

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Those were the first words you heard from your boyfriend’s mouth as you walked out of your shared bedroom after getting ready for work. 

“What’s the matter, babe?” you asked as you finished tying your hair up. 

“Don’t ‘what’s the matter, babe’ me. My fucking lyric sheets!” He held up a stack of papers that looked like they’d been soaking in water all night. 

“Oh no, what happened?” You asked, moving towards Vernon with outstretched hands as if you could actually dry the papers for him. 

“Oh, I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?! Someone left a glass of water on the table where the cat could knock it over, and guess what?! She did!” He shook at papers in your direction to emphasize his point, splashing you with frigid droplets, and making you flinch. And yes, you did leave your glass of water on the coffee table last night, being too tired to get up and do the dishes, but did he really have the right to blame you?

“Look, Vern, I’m really sorry, but-”

“Don’t even try to say it isn’t your fault because it fucking is!” Your usually quiet and calm boyfriend yelled at you in the middle of your living room. You were honestly so taken aback that you didn’t know what to say to him. Vernon was typically so cool and collected that seeing him red in the face with anger was not something you were prepared for this early in the morning. “I can’t fucking believe you.”

“You know what, Vern, I’m sorry but you don’t get to talk to me like that.” You said in a quiet voice, betraying your confident words. You walked over to the front door and grabbed your jacket and bag before turning around to look at your boyfriend again. “I’ll go to Jihyo’s after work. I’m sorry about your papers.”

Vernon watched you with wide eyes as you exited your apartment, slamming the door behind you. You were right, he shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, but he was just so angry when he came out of your bedroom this morning to find his lyrics ruined. He huffed a sigh before plopping down onto the couch and placing his head in his hands. How was he going to fix this?

Chan

It wasn’t like you to come home so late, but your annoying boss asked you to calculate some projections for next quarter 15 minutes before your clock out time and you couldn’t just tell him no, especially when you’re up for a promotion this month. So you took on the task and ended up working 3 hours of overtime. 

You were so caught up in paperwork that you didn’t even think to text Chan, your boyfriend, and let him know you’d be home late. You didn’t think he would mind, but when you sat down on the bus to head home, you checked your phone to find 9 missed calls and dozens of texts. The last few were especially worrisome.

From Channie: do you have any idea how worried i am?!?

From Channie: i swear to god Y/N if you dont call me back

From Channie: where the fuck are you???

From Channie: are you out with that guy, from work?! 

From Channie: you know what? Dont bother coming home

You furrowed your brows. Chan never usually reacted like this. You pressed the little green phone icon next to his name in an attempt to soothe whatever he was feeling, only to be met with his voicemail. Instead you tried texting him a few times, but the texts stayed green, never going through. Confused, you pocketed your phone and continued on your ride home. 

When you got to your apartment you keyed in your passcode and walked into an almost completely dark apartment.

“Channie?” You called out, setting your bag down on the console table. “Chan, what’s going on?”

All of the sudden your bedroom door bursts open to reveal a slightly tipsy Chan, stumbling towards you. “Where the fuck were you?!” He yelled, slightly slurred.

“Chan - Chan what - are you ok?” You asked, slipping your shoes off and walking towards him with your arms out to steady him.

“Am I ok!? Am I OK!? You’re out with who the fuck knows doing God knows fucking what and I can’t reach you. And you have the balls to ask if I’M OKAY?!” He roared, making you take a few steps back. You’ve never seen him this angry before, and it confused and scared you.

“Chan, my boss asked me to work on some projections, you know how he-”

“Oh fucking save it, Y/N! Just get the fuck out of my face!”

“Chan!” By now, tears were running down your cheeks, you honestly couldn’t believe your sweet and loving boyfriend was saying such cruel things to you right now. “You know I’m up for promotion and - and…” 

“And what, Y/N?! You think you can just sleep your way to the top?!”

You swung your hand back and slapped your boyfriend as hard as you could across the face. It seemed to jar him enough that he snapped out of whatever rage he was in. He blinked a few times, sobering up, before he looked at your tear-streaked face, realizing what he had just said. 

“Y/N, wait.”

“No, Chan, fuck you!” You screamed, running into your bedroom and slamming the door shut. He deserved that, he thinks. 

“Baby, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” he knocked on the door a few times before trying the knob, it was locked, “just let me in, please. I’m so sorry, baby, so, so sorry. Let me in and we can talk, I don’t know what came over me, I was just so worried about you.” He was rambling now, but he wasn’t sure what else to do, he knew if he didn’t fix this he was going to lose you.

He could hear your sobs on the other side of the door and it was breaking his heart. He slid down the wall opposite the door, resolute to wait there the entire night until you finally opened the door.

[fireinmoonshot]

if you're okay with the other dagger members, "memorizing their favourite things and treating them when they have a bad day" with mickey (fanboy) please? :')

A/N: Surprise! I rewatched Top Gun: Maverick tonight and since falling in love with Joaquin from Marvel, I have also now totally fallen in love with Fanboy. I've had this request in my inbox for a long time – like the last time I wrote for Top Gun which was... 2023 or early 2024? I cannot remember. Anyway, I'm so sorry this took me forever to get around to, anon! I hope that if you're still around on my blog, you'll enjoy this fic now that I've finally written it. I'm definitely gonna be writing more for Fanboy and for the rest of the Top Gun crew cause my inspiration for writing them again is so strong at the moment. Anyway, enjoy – and remember my requests are always open!

In hindsight, Mickey Garcia should have asked for help getting everything from his car to the Hard Deck. He’d put a few things in a bag, but it was still incredibly awkward to hold it all and he could only hope that someone would be kind enough to open the door with him. He’d already had to kick the door to his truck shut with his foot.

The whole team was meeting up at the bar tonight, celebrating a successful training day – though it hadn’t been super successful for all of you. You’d made a mistake and been absolutely reamed by Maverick and Cyclone. It’d almost made you decide not to come out tonight, but Natasha had convinced you to come along, saying it’d help to be around your team rather than be alone.

Mickey had made his decision pretty quickly and as soon as you’d all been dismissed, he’d hopped into his truck and spent his few spare hours driving around the city and collecting things for you.

He’d been keeping a list in the notes section of his phone about things you deem your ‘favourite things in life’ ever since he first started falling for you. Considering how long ago that was, he long since should have confessed but when it came to you, well… the poor aviator was tongue tied more often than not. 

Chocolate (specifically anything with caramel)

Iced Coffee (but not too much ice)

Romance books.

Sunflowers.

He’d selected a handful of things off your list and done his best to track them all down – even going so far as to arrange them in a small hamper. Well… it had meant to be small. But things had gotten a little out of hand at the bookstore and instead of leaving with one book like he’d planned, he’d ended up asking for recommendations and had left with four. That, along with three blocks of chocolate, a bouquet of sunflowers and an extra large iced coffee (without too much ice), were what he was attempting to safely get inside.

You were none the wiser to Fanboy’s plans, sitting in the corner with the other members of the team. Nat was sat beside you, nursing her first beer of the night, and Jake and Javy were just starting a game of pool with the others. It was difficult for you to really focus on your friends rather than the words swimming in your mind, berating you for your mistake. 

Everyone said it was an easy enough mistake to make – it could’ve been anyone – but in the real world, not in a training exercise, you know it could’ve cost you or someone else their life. 

You’re just about to get up and head to the bar to get your first drink of the night in an attempt to numb the thoughts in your head when you spot Fanboy making his way through the room. It’s not busy yet, but with what the man is carrying, he knocks into several people on his way over towards you.

“What the hell is he doing?” Nat says from beside you, beer paused halfway to her mouth.

“Has he organised a date or something?” Bob asks, sitting across the table from you, his eyes also focused on Fanboy. He looks just as confused as the rest of you do – your whole team now staring at him.

He stops when he reaches your table, huffs out a breath and then grins. “Hey guys.”

“You good, Fanboy?” Nat questions, motioning to the flowers, coffee and the bag in his hands.

“Yeah, I’m good!” He seems chirpy, as usual. He puts the bag down on the table, it making a thudding noise as it hits the wood. Whatever is in there must be pretty heavy. Then, he surprises you by making his way around the table to where you’re sitting. “So, this is for you.” He hands you the iced coffee he’s holding, as well as the incredibly large bouquet of sunflowers – your favourite. 

“For me?” Your eyebrows almost hit the roof.

You wouldn’t be lying if you said you thought Mickey was cute. You had done ever since you’d first met him a long time ago now. Part of you had always wondered ‘What if?’ but the reasonable part of you that refused to let yourself date co-workers or fellow aviators won out every time. But here he was… delivering you flowers and iced coffee?

“Yeah, the ice might be a bit melted by now – it’s like a hundred degrees out there – but I blasted my air con the whole way here so I could try and keep it cool,” he explains, so incredibly nonchalantly despite the fact that he’s clearly gone out of his way to do this. “And I know sunflowers are your favourites so…”

“How do you know that?” 

He shrugs his shoulders. “I just remember you mentioning it one time.”

He figures you don’t need to know about the note on his phone – not just yet, anyway. He could save that for if he ever actually gets the courage to ask you on a date and confess his feelings to you. Right now, that would likely come across as a little creepy.

Nat pipes up. “What’s in the bag, Fanboy?”

“Oh, that!” He says, hurrying back over to the bag as if he’s forgotten it existed – truly, he kind of did. He was so focused on the look of pure happiness on your face that he forgot half your present was still waiting. “So, this…” He continues, carefully pulling the hamper out of the bag, “is also for you! I found you some books, I hope you haven’t read them yet.”

Before Mickey can even take a step towards you to give the hamper to you, you’re off your seat, hurrying over to him. He barely even has time to put the hamper on the table before you’re flinging yourself into his arms. He swears his heart stops and then re-starts at the sudden contact, the feeling of your body pressed into his.

Well… this is new. 

“What the hell, Mickey?” Your voice is soft in his ear as you hug him tightly.

“I know you had a tough day so…” He mutters in reply.

“People usually just buy me a beer if I’ve had a tough day, they don’t go out and buy me all of my favourite things,” you laugh a little, pulling away from the hug. Mickey already misses the contact as you step away from him. “And you bought me books?” 

You lean down to inspect the hamper on the table.

“Have you read any of them?” Mickey asks, watching you carefully. “If you have, I think I can exchange them. I kinda befriended the girl that works at the bookstore. She helped me pick them out.” She also definitely thought Mickey was buying books for his partner, so that was probably why she was so helpful – he knows that.

“No, but I’ve heard good things about this one!” You point at one of them, then turn back around to look at him. “You really didn’t have to do this, you know? I really would’ve been okay with a free beer and some good company.”

Mickey shrugs, suddenly a little shy. “You deserve it.”

“Okay, this is sweet and all,” Nat starts, immediately reminding both you and Mickey that you’re in the middle of a bar surrounded by your team and it’s not just the two of you. “But this does not mean you get to sit in the corner and read all night, okay? And I want a piece of that chocolate – the caramel swirl one.”

You laugh at her, shaking your head at how blunt she is, and turn back to Mickey. You surprise him again by reaching out your hand, taking his and giving it a squeeze. It’s like an electric shock travelling up his arm. 

“Will you come sit with me?” You ask him. “We can read the summaries of all of the books you got me and you can help me decide which one to read first. Obviously when I get home, since I’ve been banned from reading here tonight.”

Mickey nods, already loving the idea just because it means he gets to sit next to you and spend more time with you. You don’t let go of his hand as you move back to where you were sitting before, making Nat shuffle up a bit so that Mickey can fit beside you on the booth. 

“You really made my day, you know that?” You squeeze his hand again before letting go so you can grab the hamper and start to get the books out.

He can’t help the smile that comes to his face. “I’m glad I could make you smile.”

[theonottsbxtch]

THE COME DOWN PT 2 | LN4

an: i'd like to preface this by saying this is not everyone's cup of tea and warn you ahead of time this faces the topic of substance abuse and overdose, so if you're not comfy reading this, step back now! if you or anyone you know needs help, please feel free to talk to me or here are links for who to talk to: united kingdom, united states, canada, europe. these are some of the links i've found, if you need help searching for one, my inbox is always open!

wc: 3.8k

warnings: substance abuse, overdose and mentions of death

part one

The flat was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old pipes and the distant hum of traffic outside. She sat cross-legged on Oscar’s bed, wearing one of his oversized hoodies that smelled faintly of cedar and something else distinctly him. Her bag sat untouched in the corner; she hadn’t bothered unpacking, too afraid that settling in even slightly would mean acknowledging the enormity of what she’d done. Leaving Lando. Leaving everything behind.

Oscar was in the kitchen. She could hear the clatter of mugs and the low hiss of the kettle as he made tea, always keeping his hands busy to avoid saying too much. He had a way of filling silence that was considerate, like he understood she needed time and space but couldn’t leave her to drown in her thoughts.

Her phone buzzed on the bedside table. She ignored it. It wasn’t as though anyone important would be calling her, and she couldn’t stomach the idea of hearing Lando’s voice, slurred or otherwise. The last time still replayed in her mind, a cacophony of anger, confusion, and shame. She pulled the sleeves of the hoodie over her hands and pressed her fists to her temples, willing the memory away.

Oscar appeared in the doorway, balancing two steaming mugs. His face was a study in quiet concern, his dark eyes scanning her as though trying to decipher what she wasn’t saying.

“Chamomile,” he said, setting a mug on the bedside table. “It’s good for relaxing. Not that I think you need it,” he added quickly, scratching the back of his neck. “But, you know, just in case.”

She offered him a small smile. “Thanks, Osc.”

He stood there for a moment, uncertain, before finally retreating to the sofa in the other room. He hadn’t asked her why exactly she called him three nights ago looking like a ghost of herself. He didn’t need to. Oscar had always been like that—a safe harbour. Dependable. Steady. A friend.

She leaned back against the pillows, clutching the mug in her hands and letting the warmth seep into her fingers. The flat was so different from Lando’s. No art on the walls, no clutter, no hint of chaos or indulgence. It was simple and unpretentious, much like Oscar himself. For the first time in what felt like years, she felt like she could breathe.

But the guilt lingered, gnawing at her. She’d left Lando. Not just walked out, but abandoned him when he was at his lowest. The memory of his eyes, wide and red-rimmed, flashed through her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut. She wasn’t going to cry again. Not now.

The days at Oscar’s flat passed in a blur of silence and borrowed familiarity. She didn’t do much—couldn’t, really. Her thoughts were too loud, her energy sapped by the constant cycle of guilt, anger, and self-recrimination. Most of her time was spent curled up in Oscar’s bed, surrounded by the faint smell of his laundry detergent, trying not to think too hard about anything. It was a losing battle.

Oscar gave her space, which she appreciated. He didn’t hover or press her for answers, but he was always there, lingering at the edges of her solitude, ready if she needed him. Sometimes she found him at the small dining table in the corner of the living room, a book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other.

Tonight was one of those nights. She wandered out of his room with the cup of tea he’d given her. He glanced up when she padded into the living room but didn’t say anything, just offered a small, welcoming smile before returning to his book. She sat down opposite him, curling her legs beneath her, and watched him in the soft glow of the table lamp.

The book must have been gripping because his brow furrowed slightly, and he turned the pages with an almost reverent care. She noticed the way his fingers brushed the edges, like he didn’t want to crease them. She hadn’t seen him this still in years. But then again, she rarely ever saw Oscar now.

“Good book?” she asked eventually, her voice breaking the comfortable quiet.

He looked up, startled for a second, before the smile returned. “Yeah. Bit dense, though. I’m not sure I actually understand half of it.”

She huffed a small laugh, the first real one in days, and it surprised her. He noticed, too. For a moment, he just looked at her, like he wanted to say something, but then he shook his head and glanced back at the page.

The silence stretched on, but it wasn’t oppressive. She stared at the mug in her hands and her mind wandered—back to Lando, inevitably. To his voice, slurred and sharp; to the way he used to be, before everything went wrong. She wondered if he’d even noticed she was gone.

Oscar’s voice cut through the fog of her thoughts. “You don’t have to stay cooped up in there, you know.”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“In the bedroom,” he said, nodding towards the closed door behind her. “You’re welcome out here, anytime. Even if it’s just to sit.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Thanks.”

They sat together like that for a while longer, him reading and her lost in thought. It was strange how easy it was to be with Oscar, even with all the mess she’d brought into his life. She wanted to thank him, to say something to convey just how much it meant that he’d opened his door to her without question. But the words felt too heavy, so she stayed quiet.

Later, when the weight of the day became too much, she retreated to his bed again. She pulled the covers up to her chin, staring at the ceiling, but sleep didn’t come easily. She kept seeing Lando’s face, hearing his voice. Over and over, the same thought clawed at her—I left him.

The phone call came in the early hours of the morning, jolting her awake. She fumbled for the phone on the bedside table, her heart already racing as she answered it.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other end was barely a whisper, but she recognised it instantly.

“It’s me,” Lando said, his voice cracking.

Her stomach twisted. “Lando? What’s wrong?”

“I… I don’t know what to do,” he mumbled, his words slurring together. Then the line went silent.

“Lando?” she said, louder this time, her voice thick with fear. “Lando, are you there?”

Nothing.

She sat up, her chest heaving as she tried to steady her breathing. She knew something was wrong. Her body knew it before her mind caught up. She stumbled out of bed and into the living room, where Oscar was sprawled on the sofa, asleep under a thin blanket. She shook him awake, her urgency spilling over.

“Osc, wake up,” she said, her voice shaking.

He groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Lando. I think something’s happened. We need to go. Now.”

Oscar blinked himself awake, shaking off the haze of sleep as he sat up on the sofa. The urgency in her voice jolted him fully alert. “What’s going on?” he asked, his voice low but sharp with concern.

“It’s Lando,” she said, pacing in frantic, uneven steps across the room. Her hands were shaking. “He called me, and something’s wrong. I don’t know what, but we have to go. Now, Osc. Please.”

Oscar frowned, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. “Wait, slow down. What did he say?”

“He didn’t—he barely said anything. But I know him. Something’s wrong.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and she stopped pacing, fixing him with a desperate look. “Please, Osc. We can’t waste time.”

He didn’t ask any more questions. He grabbed his keys from the table and pulled on his jacket. “Let’s go.”

The drive was a blur of adrenaline and recklessness. Oscar’s McLaren roared through the city streets, the tyres screeching as he ignored red lights and zipped through gaps in traffic that barely existed. She sat rigid in the passenger seat, clutching the edge of the seat with white-knuckled hands, her eyes fixed on the road ahead as though willing them to go faster.

“What’s his flat number again?” Oscar asked, his voice tight.

“Four. Top floor.”

When they reached the building, she was out of the car before he’d even fully stopped. She tore up the stairs two at a time, her breath coming in gasps, the blood pounding in her ears. Oscar was right behind her, keeping pace as she reached the fourth floor and darted to Lando’s door. She banged on it with both fists.

“Lando!” she shouted, her voice echoing down the empty hallway. “Open the door! It’s me!”

Nothing.

“Lando!” She banged harder, the sound reverberating through her skull. The silence on the other side of the door was deafening.

Oscar caught her arm gently, his expression grim. “Move,” he said.

Before she could argue, he planted a foot against the doorframe and slammed his shoulder into the wood. The first hit made it shudder; the second sent it crashing open.

The smell hit them first—a sharp, acrid scent that made her stomach turn. She rushed inside, her eyes darting around the dimly lit flat. “Lando?”

The bathroom door was ajar, and she spotted his legs sprawled on the tiled floor. Her heart stopped. “Oh, God.”

She ran to him, dropping to her knees beside his lifeless form. He was slumped against the tub, his head lolling to the side, his skin pale and clammy. An empty syringe lay on the floor next to him, and his breathing was shallow, barely there.

“Lando,” she whispered, her hands trembling as she cupped his face. “Lando, wake up. Please.”

Oscar appeared in the doorway, his face ashen. “Is he—?”

“Call an ambulance!” she cried, her voice breaking. “Right now, Osc!”

Oscar pulled out his phone, his fingers fumbling as he dialled. She turned back to Lando, tears streaming down her face. She shook him gently, her voice rising in desperation. “You don’t get to do this, Lando. You hear me? You don’t get to give up like this.”

The operator’s voice buzzed faintly from Oscar’s phone as he relayed their location. He crouched beside her, his free hand resting on her shoulder, trying to steady her as she broke down.

“Come on,” she pleaded, her forehead pressed against Lando’s. “You’re not allowed to leave me. Not like this.”

The sound of distant sirens filled the air, growing louder with each passing second. Oscar stayed silent, his grip firm but gentle, grounding her as she crumbled.

In that moment, a bitter realisation struck him—a knife twisting in his chest. No matter how much he wanted to, he could never truly have her. Her heart was still tethered to Lando, even in its shattered, battered state. And as he watched her hold the man who had hurt her in so many ways, he knew it would always be that way.

She, meanwhile, was drowning in her own spiral of guilt. She’d left him. She’d abandoned him when he needed her most. And now, seeing him like this, all she could think was, I’m the reason he’s here. I’m the reason this happened.

The paramedics burst through the door, their presence swift and efficient, but she didn’t move until Oscar gently pulled her away to let them work. She stood frozen, clutching the edge of the sink as they checked Lando’s pulse and prepared a stretcher.

“Will he be okay?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

One of the paramedics glanced at her with a professional calm. “We’re stabilising him. He’s got a chance.”

As they wheeled him out, Oscar stayed close to her side, his arm hovering protectively near her back. They followed the stretcher down the stairs, out into the crisp night air. She couldn’t stop trembling, her mind replaying the scene over and over.

For Oscar, the sight of her clinging to Lando’s hand as he was loaded into the ambulance was a final confirmation of what he’d already known deep down. He would always be the one standing on the sidelines, watching as her heart belonged to someone else.

“Come on,” he said gently, guiding her away from the flashing lights. “Let’s go.”

The ambulance doors slammed shut with a finality that echoed in the pit of her stomach. She stood on the pavement, watching as the vehicle sped away into the night, its siren cutting through the heavy silence. Her arms hung limply at her sides, her chest tight with the weight of too many emotions to name.

Oscar stood a step behind her, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, the tension in his body radiating outwards. He wanted to say something, anything, but he knew better. She needed space, and he wasn’t sure he had the words to make this better, even if she’d let him try.

Finally, she turned to him, her face pale and streaked with tears. Her voice was a whisper, barely audible over the hum of the city. “I can’t believe I left him.”

Oscar frowned. “This isn’t your fault.”

Her eyes snapped to his, the raw guilt blazing in them making him wince. “Isn’t it? I walked out, Osc. I left him. I knew he was falling apart, and I still…” Her voice broke, and she pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. “What kind of person does that?”

“The kind of person who couldn’t set herself on fire to keep someone else warm,” he said softly.

She stared at him, her breath hitching, but the words didn’t seem to sink in. She shook her head, taking a step back. “You don’t understand. You don’t know what it’s like to see someone you love destroy themselves, to feel like you’re all they have, and then to just… leave.”

Oscar’s jaw tightened. “You think I don’t know?” His voice was quiet but firm. “I’ve been watching you do it. For too long. Staying with him, breaking yourself to pieces trying to save him.”

Her lips parted, but no words came. She just looked at him, stunned, as though the weight of what he’d said was pressing down on her all at once.

“I’m not saying it to hurt you,” Oscar continued, his tone gentler now. “But you need to stop blaming yourself. Lando made his choices. You didn’t make him drink, or use, or…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair. “You didn’t make him do this.”

She turned away, wrapping her arms around herself as though trying to hold the pieces together. “I just keep thinking… if I’d stayed, maybe—”

“Maybe you’d have ended up in that ambulance too,” Oscar interrupted, stepping closer. He hesitated, then placed a hand on her shoulder. “You did what you had to do. For yourself. That doesn’t make you a bad person. It makes you human.”

The tears came then, silent and unrelenting. She leaned into his touch, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her like she was something fragile and precious. She buried her face in his chest, her sobs muffled by the fabric of his jacket.

For a moment, Oscar allowed himself to close his eyes and just be there for her. It wasn’t enough—not for her, and not for him—but it was all he could offer.

When she finally pulled away, her face was blotchy, her eyes red-rimmed, but there was a flicker of determination in her expression.

“I need to go to the hospital,” she said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands.

Oscar nodded. “I’ll take you.”

The drive to the hospital was quieter, the urgency replaced by a heavy solemnity. She stared out of the window, her mind miles away, while Oscar focused on the road.

When they arrived, the harsh fluorescent lights of the A&E waiting room made everything feel colder. She checked in with the nurse at the desk, explaining who she was there for, and was told to wait.

Minutes turned into hours, and still, they hadn’t heard anything. Oscar sat beside her, his knee bouncing impatiently. She sat perfectly still, staring at the floor, her hands clenched in her lap.

Finally, a doctor emerged, her expression neutral but kind. “Are you here for Lando?”

She shot to her feet. “Yes. How is he?”

The doctor glanced at the clipboard in her hands. “We’ve stabilised him. He was lucky you got to him when you did. Another half an hour, and we might have been having a very different conversation.”

Her knees nearly gave out, and Oscar steadied her with a hand on her arm. “Can I see him?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“He’s still unconscious,” the doctor said. “But you’re welcome to sit with him.”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and followed the doctor down the stark, sterile corridor. Oscar stayed behind, giving her space.

Inside the room, Lando looked small against the backdrop of wires and monitors. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was a stark reminder of how close he’d come to losing the fight. She sank into the chair beside his bed, her hands trembling as she reached out to brush a strand of hair from his face.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I shouldn’t have left you.”

But as the words left her mouth, a small voice in the back of her mind whispered something else: You couldn’t have saved him alone.

She sat there for what felt like hours, holding his hand and staring at the fragile rise and fall of his chest. In the doorway, Oscar watched her silently, his face unreadable.

For her, it was a moment of reckoning. For Oscar, it was a moment of heartbreak.

The steady beep of the heart monitor filled the silence of the hospital room. She sat by Lando’s bedside, her hands trembling as they clutched his limp, lifeless one. He looked fragile under the harsh fluorescent light, a hollow shadow of the man he used to be.

She didn’t know how long she’d been there when his fingers twitched weakly in hers.

“Lando?” she whispered, leaning forward.

He stirred, his eyelids fluttering before slowly cracking open. His eyes were bloodshot, unfocused, but after a moment, they found her. Confusion flitted across his face, followed by something darker. Shame.

“You shouldn’t… be here,” he rasped, his voice thin and raw.

Her breath hitched. “Lando, don’t say that. I was terrified. I thought—” She swallowed hard. “I thought I’d lost you.”

A bitter laugh escaped him, jagged and broken. “Why do you care? You left, remember?” His words cut, even though his voice barely carried above a whisper.

Her lips parted, but she couldn’t find the words. She squeezed his hand instead, her own shaking. “I care because you called me. You called me, Lando. You could’ve called anyone else, but you didn’t.”

He looked away, his expression crumpling. “Should’ve called no one. Let it… end.”

“Don’t you dare,” she snapped, her voice cracking. “Don’t you dare say that. You don’t get to give up like that. Not when there are people who still care about you.”

Lando’s gaze drifted past her, to the doorway where Oscar leaned against the frame, arms crossed over his chest. His expression was unreadable, but there was a tension in his stance, a sharpness in his eyes.

Lando scoffed. “Even him? What, are you here for moral support, Oscar? Come to gloat?”

Oscar’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m here for her, not you.”

The venom in Lando’s glare was palpable. “Course you are. That’s what you do, isn’t it? Sweep in like a knight in shining armour, acting like you’re better than everyone else.”

“I don’t have to act,” Oscar replied coolly.

“Stop it, both of you,” she snapped, looking between them. “This isn’t about whatever history you two have. Lando, you’re in a hospital bed because you nearly died. Oscar, I didn’t ask you to be here so you could fight with him. This is bigger than that.”

Lando’s gaze flicked back to her, and the defiance faded, replaced by something brittle. He closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling unsteadily. “I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he murmured. “I didn’t want anyone to.”

“Then stop putting yourself here,” she said, her voice breaking. “Lando, please. You have to get help. You can’t keep doing this.”

He didn’t respond, his face turned away. She felt her throat tighten, but she pushed on, her voice softer now. “I left because I couldn’t keep watching you destroy yourself. I didn’t want to, but I had to. For me. But that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped caring. And it doesn’t mean you can’t fix this.”

Lando turned his head slowly, his bloodshot eyes locking with hers. “What if I don’t know how?”

Her heart broke at the quiet, vulnerable question. She squeezed his hand, her tears falling freely now. “Then let someone help you. Let me help you. But you have to try, Lando. Promise me you’ll try.”

Lando’s lips quivered, and after a long moment, he nodded weakly. “I’ll try,” he whispered.

Behind her, Oscar exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. But when Lando’s gaze shifted back to him, the bitterness returned.

“Bet you’ve been waiting for this,” Lando muttered. “The great Oscar Piastri, saving the day again. Must feel nice, huh?”

Oscar stepped forward, his expression hardening. “This isn’t about you, Lando. It stopped being about you the day you threw it all away. The career. The friendship. The team. I stopped caring about you a long time ago. The only reason I’m here is her.”

Lando flinched, and she bristled, turning to Oscar. “That’s enough, Osc.”

But Oscar didn’t back down. “No, he needs to hear it. You’re not my responsibility, Lando. You never were. But you made her yours, and you dragged her down with you. That ends now.”

Lando’s face crumpled, his shoulders shaking as he pressed his hand over his eyes. The sound of his muffled sobs broke something inside her.

“Oscar, stop,” she said firmly, standing. She faced him, her eyes filled with anger and hurt. “I know you’re angry, but this isn’t the time.”

Oscar’s jaw worked, but he nodded curtly, stepping back. “Fine. I’ll be outside.” He walked out without another word.

When she turned back to Lando, his face was wet with tears. “He hates me,” Lando muttered.

She sat down again, taking his hand in hers. “Maybe he does. But I don’t. And that’s why I’m asking you to fight. Not for him. Not even for me. For you.”

Lando didn’t answer, but the faintest nod of his head gave her hope.

In the hallway, Oscar leaned against the wall, staring blankly at the floor. His heart ached with frustration and unspoken words. When she finally emerged, her face pale and drawn, he straightened.

“Is he—”

“He’ll be okay,” she said quietly. “He promised he’d try.”

Oscar nodded, his expression unreadable.

He didn't know how this was going to go, but he wasn't ready to mourn the loss of another friendship because of his old teammate's reckless decisions.

the end.

taglist: @waytooobsessedwithlife@iimplicitt

[biblicallyaccuratemeat]

Omg hi I've been looking for someone who's been accepting requests for Doctor Strange! I definitely think we need more fics set during his neurosurgeon days. Being said that, I do have a request: No smut at all, just fluff. Something where Stephen is attracted to someone younger than him, someone in their 20s. He doesn't know how to go about asking her out and where to take her since they have an age difference. Just wanted something super cute. Thanks!

Tangerine

A/N: Shaking you anon!!!! Ugh, I am always, always down to write surgeon Strange. I had a fun time writing this, I got a little carried away whoops. Anyway, I hope this is everything you envisioned and more <3 feel free to blow up my inbox with Stephen requests, I’m here for it! Stephen Strange x female reader, neurosurgeon Stephen Strange, coworkers, mutual pining, age gap, awkward flirting, two dumbasses crushing on each other, Stephen being an old man, fluff and humor and good vibes for everyone!

(P.S. the title of this fic is based off the song Tangerine by Led Zeppelin, if anyone wanted some mood music for reading this)

Word count: 3.1k

“You’re blushing.”

Stephen freezes, hand caught in a proverbial cookie jar. He can’t help but reach up to feel the burning beneath his own fingers. Damn her.

“Aren’t you due for your fourth energy drink of the night?” He deflects skillfully, casting a sidelong glance at Christine who’s all smug and chummy next to him. He can’t give her the satisfaction of being right, nor can he give her the slightest clue at what he's blushing at. Or rather, who he’s blushing at. 

Young. Perky. A smile for every patient, intern, and charge nurse in between. You’re not yet jaded by twelve hour shifts and cases gone wrong and pissed off relatives of patients. Fresh out of medical school, all bright eyed and bushy tailed. Pushing one Stephen Strange to the brink of sanity and testing his usually stellar limits. This is a problem with no solution in sight. 

He’s well liked and his reputation is prestigious enough that if he really, really wanted to, he could persuade the hospital director to transfer you. To a new unit, a new floor, a new hospital. Ideally, he’d have someone just run you out of town and wipe your memory from his existence. But he’s not that much of a dick, despite what the other residents whisper and simper about over water cooler chitchat. 

This…crush, which Stephen doesn’t want to label it like that. Crush sounds so juvenile, another glaring reminder that he’s at least twenty years your senior. These feelings snuck up on him, he was going about his business, guiding this year’s new batch of residents with a well placed glare and plenty of sarcasm. Then boom! Knocked on his ass by a twenty-six year old resident fresh out of medical school. A young woman that Stephen not only is technically in charge of, but has no business pining after. 

Fate is a fickle mistress indeed.

He swears he’s not going to do a thing about it. He’s always been the suffer in silence type anyway. And oh, how he’s suffering now. Every accidental brush of contact, every chirped “Good morning, Doctor Strange!”, it’s unraveling him like a shitty knitting project. It’s damn near impossible to avoid you, especially considering how often you seek him out. It’s almost like you know you’re torturing him and relish his misery.

“Hey, Doctor Strange!” Stephen nearly jumps three feet in the air, spinning around with grace of a newborn giraffe. 

And there you are, a vision in teal scrubs and white sneakers. You’re so pretty it’s stupid. And Stephen feels the flames of hell licking at his heels as he basks in your presence like a starving man at a feast. “I heard you performed another successful Palmer-Strange technique yesterday. You must be psyched.” You chirp, oblivious to Stephen’s agony, smiling up at him like sunshine incarnate.

Christine elbows him in the side, hard. He blinks, realizing he’s been silently gaping at you for far long than what’s appropriate or sane. “Oh, yes. Yes, I did. I mean— we did,” He casts a sidelong glance at Christine who he can tell is biting back a laughing fit at his sudden ineloquence. He’ll scowl at her once you leave. 

“Congratulations, that’s awesome!” You praise so, so earnestly, reaching out to squeeze his bicep. You say your goodbyes and leave a flabbergasted Stephen in your wake of saccharine destruction.

“That was a little disgusting to witness,” Christine snorts, simpering up at Stephen. “You’re not usually this gawky, why don’t you just ask her on a date?” 

Stephen pales at the idea, scoffing in outrage, “Ask her out? Are you kidding me? That’s a horrible idea.” 

Christine balks, “How is it horrible? You like her and she obviously likes you. Two plus two equals four, doesn’t it?”

“She doesn’t like me. She tolerates me, mainly because I’m senior to her in every way that counts. Which is exactly why I can’t afford to get involved. What would she even get out of a date with me? I’m old enough to be her father. I bet if I asked her where she was on 9/11, she’d tell me she was three months old.” Stephen rants, gesturing wildly to emphasize the sheer absurdity of Christine’s suggestion. 

“I don’t think she minds the fact that you’re almost half a century old,” Christine pats his arm condescendingly, returning her attention to the case notes in her hands. 

“I am not that old,” Stephen hisses, running his hands over his face tiredly. This day just keeps getting longer and longer. 

“Remind me again, what year were you born?” Christine asks airily, not even sparing a glance up from the papers.

“Shut it,” Stephen snaps, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. 

—

Jamming these feelings down into a dark, chasmic corner is not working. In fact, if anything, it’s making this far, far worse. Stephen is starting to make mistakes in his work. Mistakes. The very thought of something as trivial as a passing fancy having this much impact in his career is absurd. And yet, it’s happening whether he likes it or not. Thankfully, the mistakes are minor and harmless. But still, the fact that it's happening at all is utterly ridiculous.

He’s going to have to nip this in the bud immediately. The universe, however, has other ideas. Which is how he finds himself alone, in his office with you one Thursday night. Night being a generous stretch, really it’s two in the morning and his eyes are stinging with exhaustion. There’s a rather complicated case that’s come through the ER and he saw it as the perfect opportunity to see how you fare and provide a little guidance. 

Yes, he’d rather drag his bare ass down a mountain than be within ten miles of your insufferably sweet scent. But, he also wants to see you succeed. So, Stephen stuffs down every dopey, lovesick thought and grits his teeth, pointing to certain parts of the imaging with his pen and asks you what your opinion is, what your prognosis would be. Of course, you exceed all of his expectations. You even come up with a treatment plan that he’d never considered, it’s fresh and far less invasive than what was originally proposed. He’s impressed and incredibly proud of you. You’re going to be a fine surgeon.

“Excellent, well thank you very much for your insight,” Stephen remarks cordially, standing up, extending his hand. And when you slip yours into his waiting one, a little shiver rolls through his body. Your hand is impossibly tiny in his, and it’s doing things to him. Dangerous things, things that should not be entertained or acknowledged.

Stephen feels like a perv, getting all worked up over a simple fucking handshake. Maybe he should consider transferring you to a different unit, or maybe he should transfer to a new hospital. Or maybe, he should just burn this one down. Whichever is easiest, whichever gets him out of this limbo of pining over a twenty-something year old like a rabid dog. The guilt is eating him alive, especially when you bat those big innocent eyes at him and call him Doctor Strange and ask for his advice and fucking look up to him. He’s supposed to be a role model, a guide, a mentor. 

And when you bring him a cookie and a coffee from the cafeteria an hour before your shift is over? His heart does a stupid little flip, because you thought of him. And his brain chastises him, makes him feel absolutely awful at how he’s reading far too much into a simple, kind gesture. You’d do it for anyone, he’s not special. 

__

It all comes to an unfortunate but inevitable head a week later. Stephen, nose deep in a patient file, is striding like a bat out of hell through the hallways. In order to desperately ignore the ever-evolving feelings he’s harboring for you, he’s thrown himself into his work blindly. He barely sleeps, rarely goes home, always trying to find a new distraction. Anything to get his mind off you. Of course, most people would part like the Red Sea for him, knowing how he is when he gets his bouts of tunnel vision. 

His attempt at distracting himself has gotten away from him, and that’s how he ends up running head on into you. You tumble down to the linoleum floors. Papers comically flying up in the air like released doves, Stephen only stumbles slightly back. He rights himself immediately, horror spreading in his veins like ice. In his recklessness, not only did he knock you over like a bowling pin but the iced latte you were sipping on has exploded across the front of your scrubs like a caramel flavored Rorschach test. He sees two pigeons in the splat, or maybe it’s a tree. 

“Shit! I’m sorry, kiddo,” he immediately cringes at the use of that nickname, it’s like rubbing salt in an already festering wound, “I didn’t even see you. Here,” he offers a hand, pulling you upright. Fuck the papers, he doesn’t care that they’re now saturated with coffee. 

“It’s okay, Doctor Strange. I’m fine, really.” You deflect, frowning down at your ruined scrubs. You’re upset and it’s his doing, his fault. 

“Let me, uh,” Stephen awkwardly digs through his pockets for his wallet. He yanks out a twenty dollar bill, shoving it at you like a caveman, “Buy new scrubs. My treat.”

“Oh, wow! I can’t accept that, that’s really kind of you though. I’m not upset. I promise. Accidents happen.” You gently decline, pushing the extended bill back to Stephen. 

Old habits die hard, Stephen, the Mr. Fix-it-all of the universe, can’t just accept that you’re okay with him barreling into you like a buffoon. “At least let me take you out for a new coffee,” he blurts out and wants to kick himself immediately, “To make it up for you. If you want, that is. No pressure, of course!” 

There’s a pregnant pause, Stephen braces himself for a swift and soul crushing rejection. But then, “Okay, sure. I get off in two hours, does that work for you?” 

Stephen jerkily glances down at his watch, “Two hours? Yes. Yeah. That’s perfect. We’ll get coffee. You and me. Sounds good.” 

“Alright, it’s a date,” You beam up at him, bending down to collect the papers that scattered in the collision. You hand them back to Stephen and go on your merry way, leaving behind a tongue tied Doctor Strange.

You said yes. You said it’s a date. Words fail him, Stephen’s scathing wit is nowhere to be found, his usual sarcasm abandoning him. He has two hours to prepare. He can’t just take you down to the hospital cafeteria. The coffee is passable but that has to be the world’s shittiest first date, no effort put in at all. Stephen excels at dates, in his not-so-humble opinion. He was suave, he was thoughtful, he had impeccable taste. 

Coffee dates were not his forte, maybe when he was a grad student, but now? Absolutely not. Stephen would book a reservation at some obscenely overpriced restaurant or take a woman out dancing. Coffee felt juvenile. Which only put a glaring, neon sign on the fact that you’re TWENTY years or so younger than him. Can he get arrested for this?

He’ll have to ask Christine what a good coffee place is. He knows fuck all about cafes, opting to just brew his own at home. His order has always been the same, uncomplicated, black with a splash of cream. He didn’t need any mocha, matcha, macchiato bullshit. But if what he spilled across you was any indicator, you took your coffee (if you could call it that) with an obscene amount of sweeteners and syrups and sugars. 

He shoots a text to Christine, which is met with a few dozen smug, gloating messages. The standard ‘I told you so’s’ and ‘I knew she was into you!’.  And of course, one very irritating ‘cradle robber ;)’. He makes a note to block Christine after receiving her advice. 

She provides him with a detailed list of a few cafes within walking distance of the hospital. He pulls up the websites, wanting to get a feel for the menu before picking a place. Stephen feels like he’s reading an entirely different language. Tall, grande, venti. Oat milk, cold foam, nitrobrew. All he wants to know is if he can get coffee. Just coffee. He’s out of his depth, that much is abundantly clear. So, he’ll just pick a place at random and pray you enjoy it. 

After the cafe debacle, Stephen still has a good hour and a half till you’re off. He throws himself into his work, far too wired to just relax and sit there for 5,400 seconds. Stephen was never a patient man and he wasn’t going to begin pretending he was.

So he paces and he paces, and he paces some more. He checks his watch once, twice, thrice. It’s only been fifteen minutes. He groans, throwing himself back into his desk chair, pulling up a patient chart on his computer, updating the information. He supposes he can be productive with his time instead of wearing tracks into his rug. 

In some act of divine mercy, blissfully, the time passes much quicker once Stephen puts his mind to work. Before he knows it, he’s borderline jogging to the nurse’s station to find you. In his haste, Stephen nearly reenacts the collision that landed him this date in the first place, stumbling to a stop before he slams into you head first. 

“Do you have zero spatial awareness or am I just special?” You tease, grinning up at Stephen, placing your hands on your hips.

Stephen can feel his face transform through every human emotion— mortification, sheepishness, to finally land on smitten, utterly besotted. He chuckles bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck, “Sorry, I guess I was anxious to get you a new cup of coffee.”

“Oh, well, let’s go then,” you chirp, slipping your hand into his like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Your hand is agonizingly soft and small in Stephen’s, another impossible to ignore reminder of the fact that you’re young, young, young, and he’s old. 

As the two of you make your way out of the fluorescent lights of the ER and into the sunshine, into the real world, Stephen receives a few puzzled looks from coworkers. His self awareness spikes, his hackles raising, and he starts to second guess himself. He halts in the middle of the sidewalk, glaring down at the concrete like it’s personally offended him. 

“Uh, Doctor Strange?” Your hand drops, Stephen silently mourns the loss of contact, “Are you okay?”

Your voice is so tentative, so sweet, it makes his chest ache. Every little interaction, every little mannerism seems to just further highlight your youth, your age, and Stephen feels like he’s committing a crime. So, he purses his lips, steeling his nerves, prepping for some rare vulnerability on his part. 

“Doesn’t it bother you that I’m probably— no, I’m definitely old enough to be your father?” He asks in a flat, hollow voice, already dreading your answer, regretting even asking such a ridiculous question. 

“Mmm, no, not really,” you shrug, still so damn chipper and carefree. How is this not bothering you, Stephen wonders, utterly mystified by your lax attitude. 

“Why? Does it bother you?” You tilt your head to the side, watching him carefully. 

Stephen huffs, running his hands through his hair agitatedly, mussing up his usually tidy style, “Yes!” He cries, throwing his hands up in the air, “Yes, it bothers me! I don’t know how you’re so easy-breezy about this whole thing, but I personally feel like I’m coming unglued! Or at the very least, I’m going to get in some kind of trouble taking a girl your age out.”

He’s making a scene, he knows this, but he doesn’t give a damn at this point, he just needs to get this shit off his chest before he goes into cardiac arrest. But then, you snort at him, rolling your eyes in an exasperated but fond way, like he’s the ridiculous one. 

“I’m twenty-six, not twelve. You’re only twenty-two years older than me, this could be a lot worse. You could be eighty,” you crack a small grin, nudging his side gently with your elbow. 

Stephen huffs, his shoulders lowering, the crinkle between his brow smoothing out. He nods slowly, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I could be eighty.” He repeats, unable to hold back the small smile that’s spreading across his lips. 

“Exactly. Besides, this is just coffee, you’re not proposing to me,” you chirp, holding your hand out to him, an offering, “Now, let’s go. You owe me a new coffee regardless of the fact that you’re overthinking every single move.”

Stephen nods dumbly, in a rare display of allowing someone else to take the lead. Stephen’s anxieties melt away like a popsicle in the summer sun as the date progresses. You’re unbelievably easy to talk to, Stephen finds himself sharing things about himself that Christine doesn’t even know. And yes, the age difference is glaringly clear in some instances, but you gladly listen to Stephen ramble about the eighties and Duran Duran. Before you know it, two hours have passed and it’s time to head back to the hospital. 

“You can take me out this weekend, if you want,” you murmur, hand in hand with Stephen as you weave through the cafeteria. Stephen shoots you an incredulous look, because how the hell did you know?

“I can see the smoke coming out of your ears as you try to figure out how to ask me.” You smirk, coming to a stop outside his office. “You’re going to hurt your brain if you keep freaking out like this for our entire relationship.”

Stephen blinks and before he can whip up a witty retort, you press up onto your tiptoes and kiss him. The kiss is soft, coaxing him back to reality. He melts, cupping your face in his hands, moving his mouth in tandem against yours. You pull back, eyes alight with mischief, and Stephen has to bite back a groan. Not appropriate, definitely not appropriate for work.

“See you around, Doctor Strange!” And with that, you’re gone, leaving behind a speechless Stephen Strange. 

If Christine notices the way his eyes are crinkling, the way there’s absolutely a grin underneath his surgical mask in the OR later that day… Well, she doesn’t say anything. She’ll save the goading for after your second date.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

SUB SLASH SUBBY SLASH SUBMISSIVE SAUL HUDSON SUB SUB SUB WHINY WHIMPERING NEEDY DESPERATE PRAISE KINK SUBMISSIVE SLASH!!!!!!!!

thanks 🎀

A/n: This almost took a completely different turn but I'm quite happy with how this turned out <3

Also, sorry I haven't been posting in a while I have over 70 asks in my inbox rn and I'm trying to write them I swear I'm just really slow lol but I am writing, I promise :')

Warnings: Smut, edging, pantie stealing/gagging?, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Slash had been on tour the past few months, usually while he was on tour you guys would call and get off on each other's voices, moans and sometimes commands. But you had plans this time, evil plans.

He wasn't cumming for the whole tour, it was short only about three months, sure enough he could handle that, right?

Anytime you were on call you'd make up some excuse for leaving, only after edging him for as long as you could, sometimes hours. You told him to be a good boy and not touch himself unless you told him to.

He'd come whining to you every day over the phone. "Please, please, can I cum now?" He ask, tears brimming his eyes, his dick hot and pulsing in his hand.

"Mm, you know what?" You'd start, hearing the small sigh of relief. "I'm actually feeling pretty tired right now, I think I might just go to sleep." You'd hear his soft whimpers over the phone, knowing he'd have to stop now.

"Mommy, please..."

"Good night, I love you." You'd say and hang up.

He was coming home tonight and you couldn't wait, you knew he couldn't either. As soon as he pulled up to the driveway you ran to the door.

The door opened and Slash practically fell onto you, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you tight to him as his lips crashed around yours. He'd dropped his luggage and was whining into the kiss. You couldn't not laugh at his excitement.

You tried to pull away from he kept pulling you back for more. "Slash!" You giggled, he rolled his eyes and let you speak. "Why don't you go upstairs and I'll bring your luggage up?" He huffed but went anyway.

You waited for him to get most of the way up the stairs, watching him sulk away all pouty, before closing the door and bringing up his luggage.

You got through your bedroom door and saw Slash by the clothes hamper, a pair of your panties in his hand and pushed to his nose, in his other hand was his already leaky cock.

"Aw, couldn't even wait for me to get in the room, huh?" Slash spun around at your words and just shook his head. You made your way over to the bed, sitting on the edge and patting the spot next to you.

Slash hurried over, ridding himself of his flimsy button up and leather pants. He sat next to you, back against the headboard and you sat between his spread legs, his dick hitting his abdomen.

You took the panties from him, a black lace pair you'd been wearing on one of your late night calls, and brought it back to his face, pushing them into his mouth and he happily accepted the gag. "You want to cum?" He nodded, tears already forming in his eyes. "Show me how good you can be, then."

His breath hitched as you gently ran a finger along his length. Of course you weren't just going to give it to him, what fun would that be? No, tonight would be filled with just as much teasing as any other.

"Oh, aren't you my good boy?" You asked, pumping him at a painfully slow pace as you had been the past few minutes, watching every small reaction he had, how his chest slowly fell with a shaky breath leaving him.

He was barely holding back his tears at that point, pre leaking from his slit and onto your hand. "Looking all pretty like this, just for me." He gave a small nod. "Time to take these out and let you cum?" His eyes widened slightly just at the thought of you letting him cum. He nodded excitedly and you smiled at your pulled the wet panties from him, kissing his plump lips.

"Please, mommy, I-I've been s'good, I swear." He mumbled, hands clutching the sheets so tightly his knuckles lightened to stop from touching himself.

His whole body was twitching, especially his legs and you couldn't not pay them some attention, lightly grazing his inner thighs with your nails causing him to moan. "Such a good boy, so obedient." Tears were rolling down his cheeks, a wonky smile pulling at his lips.

Your fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, he gasped. Moans and whines left him in chains as you jerked him off at a much faster pace now. His heels dug into the mattress as he kicked, not wanting to cum until he was told he could.

"Please, can I- Can I cum inside, please?" He whined, hips helplessly bucking into your hand.

You shook your head at his request. "It'll feel good just like this, just do what I tell you to do." He whined at that. Your hand kept a steady rhythm, you watched the prominent vein up him pulsing and the rest of him twitched. You waited patiently for just the right time. "Such a good boy, huh? My good boy, can you cum for mommy?" Without a second thought he let everything go.

Moans ripped from him until he went silent, his head fell back and his jaw went slack, eyes rolling into the back of his head. His body completely melted into the bed as thick ropes of cum squirted onto his chest and stomach, his body quickly getting overstimulated as you continued to stroke him.

His chest fell with a heavy breath and his gaze came back to you. He looked down at himself, a thin layer of sweat coating him and far more cum on him than he'd expected. "Did I- Did I do good?" He asked, looking at you with expectant, wide teary eyes.

You nodded and moved closer to him. "You always do good." He smiled softly up at you, eyes struggling to stay open. You cupped his cheek with your hand, still cover in his mess. "Aw, are you tired?" He nodded, tiredly reaching for you. "You can sleep now but tomorrow it's my turn~" You mused and moved to sit beside him, wrapping your arms around him and letting him lean on you.

[lovestory]

i haven't really felt like opening tumblr at all this year, but it was obviously very moving when i saw taylor's post about her masters, and i thought of this community immediately. i thought about the day when we found out scooter had bought the masters initially, posting about it, and taylor seeing those posts we made on here. i feel pretty inclined to share this with you: i got a new job, i started last week - and it pays more than double what my last job did. i'm the in house graphic designer for a huge commercial construction company now, they take really good care of me, and i've dropped out of uni because i have found success and love for design again. i didn't even know opportunities like that existed in the small area i live in, and i definitely didn't think they'd choose me.

in january i made the decision to leave tumblr. aside from a general disinterest and struggling massively with my mental and physical health, i was just tired. being treated the way i was online since before i even turned 13 was exhausting. i had people in my inbox when i was a minor sending me sexual messages and begging me to post my prom pictures, people making "gossip" blogs about me, people sending me my address, people sending me three part messages about why they hate me. whenever i'd say i hated this kind of behaviour, people would blame me for not turning my ask box off. last year in particular i'd dealt with a couple of stalking incidents and completely closed myself off from people contacting me on here. but instead of respecting that, i would just have other blogs get anons about me. one day i saw a mutual get a message about me, and half the shit they were saying just wasn't even true, and i'd just fucking had enough. i just wanted to step away and be a fan in a different way for awhile and try to focus on getting better. consume content and think what i thought without people arguing or making vague posts in response.

i moved out of our rental in april. as we were moving out, it led to the discovery that the entire house was infested with black mould that had been painted over/covered up when it was renovated. this mould was making me incredibly sick after living with it for so long, my entire body was covered in hives every day, i couldn't breathe, i couldn't keep my eyes open, i felt awful. our new house is finished being built, they're just doing the landcaping. i can't explain how sick i felt every day, and what a relief it is to not be in that kind of pain anymore, and to not be renting anymore.

i've always felt like i was working harder than everyone else just to compensate for the fact that i'm me. it was so liberating to walk in for an interview and know i had exactly what they needed. it was so liberating to be offered so much money for what i do, no arguments, no telling me that they couldn't afford to pay me decently. i nearly gave up on graphic design, i loved it too much to let it be ruined. i'm not afraid to say that i'm good at what i do anymore, i approach my work with confidence. for six years i've worked as the only employee for two separate businesses, being paid worse than anyone else i know, and i'm so relieved to be working with people again - talking to people my age. the isolation was killing me.

it makes me emotional looking at my blog as an archive now, i am so proud of all the little things i made over the years and what i contributed. being a fan of taylor was my life for so long and the only thing i held onto to keep going, i love the records of hers that i have, i love the memories, i love that she used to see my posts. and i'd be lying if i said what the fandom has turned into hasn't turned me off from participating. i will never return to tumblr in the capacity i once was, but if i ever get a thought or an itch to make something fandom related, i'll post it. i guess it felt important to share how drastically, a lot of you have followed me for over 10 years now. i really had to push myself to bring myself out of where i was stuck, it was really hard. but it's okay now.

[ruinparadox]

I've read your husk beauty and the beast story and i raise you a cinderella story ? were the reader is in abusvie and controlling relationship with one of the vees and angel being the good friend he is decides to dress you up and take you to the casino were you catch overlord husk eye and then you have to go but you lose a necklace at the casino and lets just say when husk finds it your in for a wild ride

I’ve had two Cinderella requests sitting in my inbox for weeks now and I’m so sorry I’m only just getting to them now. Things have been hectic and everything and I can only hope I have more time for writing.

Special Necklace (Overlord!Husk x M!Reader)

Living with the Vees is absolutely awful. Each and every one of them are the worst kinds of bosses you could ask for. Vox, the Tv headed businessman overworks and underpays his staff, Valentino sexually assaults and beats his porn stars, and although Velvette is the most reasonable of the three, she’s very short tempered and she’ll add you to her list of experiments without hesitation. She’s certainly not above using her love potions to make you obedient should you act out against her.

Luckily, today she doesn’t feel like harassing you for whatever reason. She never shared her plans with you to avoid you planning on trying anything. So now you’re just sitting in your dressing room, finding it impossible to relax at all since Velvette has a nasty habit of just appearing right next to you and dragging you off somewhere whenever she wants. Better not even pick up the sewing kit, might as well just disassociate and stare at the wall until she gets back.

Of course, that’s what you plan to do until a small knock at your door catches your attention. Briefly, your fur flares up before you realize that Velvette never knocks before entering. She usually just kicks it open already mid sentence about whatever it is that’s angering her at the moment.

Tentatively, you get up from your bed and walk over to the door. Slowly, you pull it open to see Angel’s face smirking down at you.

“Angel? What are you–?”

“Hey, baby! Ya said ya wanted to pay me for a night of fun earlier, right?” He winks at you, it becoming more apparent how strained his smile was.

Getting the hint you quickly let him inside and he nearly slams the door behind him, locking it. He looks to be in a hurry, closing the curtains in your window and checking around for any cameras. Luckily for you, Velvette never approved of Vox putting cameras in her side of the studio, however Vox wouldn’t budge on the issue so the only camera in her department was in the main runway.

“What are you doing here? I thought Valentino was making you record all day?” You asked, clearly worried about the very idea of the stinky stick bug showing up at your room. Everyone knows very well what his idea of fun is, and as friendly as you are with Angel, you really wouldn’t appreciate it if he was bringing him to what little personal space you had.

“Recording was cancelled early today! I just overheard Val talkin’ with Vox. All three Vees are going out on a vacation for the next week! They’ve been plannin’ this for months and we’re gonna take advantage of it!” Angel says in hushed excitement.

“What? Leave the tower? Are you mad?!” You ask, briefly turning to the window, almost anticipating that Velvette would be there listening in on you two.

“Like you haven’t done that before. Listen, I’ve been seeing you around and you look even more miserable than usual. So we’re gonna get you out of here for a night!” Angel makes his way toward your closet, knowing that the one saving grace within your relationship to Velvette was that she let you wear whatever you wanted as long as you two weren’t out in public. A small comfort that was often accompanied by her disgust.

“Did I forget to mention they also aren’t taking us with them? And let’s be real, none of the other fuckers in the tower are gonna rat us out so we’ll have all the time we need.” Of course, he’s right about that. Even just talking to the Vees is a nigh guaranteed method of being shot with an angelic bullet. But that doesn’t make the sneaking out stint any less crazy.

“But what about–?!”

“Nuh uh! We ain’t doin’ any o’ that overthinkin’ bullshit here. We’re gonna put ya in ya best dress, and you are gonna go enjoy yourself at a party bein’ held down at the local casino. Run by some dude named Husker or whatever. Now, come on!” Immediately he’s already pulled several of your dresses out of the closet and placed them on the couch.

“Should we really be doing this now, though? What if Velvette walks in on us?” You ask, walking over to the door and briefly peeking through the surprisingly old fashioned keyhole in the door handle.

“Will you relax? They already left.” Angel grimaces down at a bright yellow dress and tosses it back into the classes.

You blink in confusion. “They have? But Velvette hasn’t even sent a text or anything.” You look down at your phone, the last text being sent yesterday and it was her demanding you clean her room. She was insistent about it as well.

Angel scoffs. “Please. You really think she’s gonna tell you that she plans to leave ya unsupervised for the next 24 hours? No, what she wants is for you to sit here all day and stew in ya misery until she gets back. Which is precisely why ya gonna go to that party.” He finally finds one of your dresses that strikes his fancy.

“Ah, this one is sure to turn heads. No one’s gonna recognize ya in this, right?” It was a long slim single strap black dress and ankle length with a bejeweled pattern around the belly. You remember liking how it looked on you the first time you tried it, but Velvette never brings you anywhere to warrant actually wearing it.

“Nah. Not like Velvette’s been showing me off to anyone, right?” You joke a bit grimly. 

“Perfect! And because it’s a masquerade party for whatever reason, with me there, no one important is gonna get you in trouble with Velvette.” He immediately pulls out a crow themed mask, complete with two purple feathers at its right side, along with a pair of stark black heels engraved with a lavender flower pattern. Angel gasped. “Its just like cindy rellie or whateva the fuck her name was.”

“Wait, you’re coming with me?”

“Well, duh! Someone’s gotta distract any paparazzi that might be hangin’ about to keep ya from makin’ the front page! I’m gonna go in first and get their attention, then you’re gonna sneak in while they’re busy flashin’ them cameras. We’ll meet up at the food bar and pretend we don’t know each other. It’ll also be a good way to check in on each other. I swear, we’re gettin’ ya a dance partner by the end of the night.” He holds the outfit he’s chosen out to you, a confident smile on his face.

You roll your eyes, taking the clothes from him. “Fine. I suppose there’s worse things we could do.” 

Angel cheers and you two spend the next few minutes getting dressed. How in the world Angel is capable of holding an entire dress in his chest fluff is anyone’s guess, but you turn away to slide into your little number. Seeing yourself in the vanity mirror a small feeling of joy passes through you. The dress is a slim fit so it's snug against your body, accentuating your round belly, tree trunk limbs, and sizable chest. Funny how Velvette made this dress, deemed it to be trash, and yet you feel so confident in it when she’s not around.

Angel gives you a knowing smirk but doesn’t say anything. Instead, both of you wordlessly sneak out of your window. With there being no cameras in Velvette’s side of the tower, that also extended to the alleyways outside of it. Velvette was pretty insistent to Vox about it, something about, “Not wanting any footage of her models getting leaked.” She was pretty intense about it, too. Then again, you doubted she actually knew how to relax.

A few minutes of walking and you were outside the casino, named “Liquid Gold.” And as Angel predicted, there were paparazzi everywhere. You immediately recognized the Voxtek branded cameras. This isn’t good. If Vox finds out you were here, he could blackmail you under threat of Velvette and whatever punishment she could imagine for you.

Suddenly, Angel turns to you, shoving an all too familiar box into your paws. “What the–?! Where did you get this? This is my special necklace!” You demand, opening the box, seeing the shining golden chain with a pear cut Tanzanite.

“I got it last minute. I wanted to put it on ya but we were already walkin’ and shit. Now, as planned, I distract, you sneak inside. Knowin’ these guys I’ll be occupied for a bit, so don’t wait for me.”

“Wha– Now wait just a second!” But before you can say anything else, Angel’s already turned the corner and is strutting his way to the crowd of cameras, all of them immediately focused on him the first syllable that drops from his mouth. He stands at the edge of the sidewalk, the camera flashes turned away from the entrance. 

You sigh and clasp the necklace around your neck, making sure to smooth out your fur to prevent it from catching in the chain. As casual as possible, you walk from around the corner and up to the entrance. Not a single camera looks your way and you spot Angel blowing a kiss at you with a wink, natural enough that anyone would assume it was nothing more than a pose for the cameras.

Returning his gesture with a smile, you hurry inside, the doors closing behind you and officially leaving you to navigate the party on your own. You're greeted by a grand and lavish room, decorated with bright lights, sensual dancers, booze of every kind of vice you can imagine, betting tables and card games, as well as a large empty space of hardwood floor that was populated with dancers.

You take a breath. Okay, you can do this. Just project confidence. And so, you begin mimicking Angel’s cat walk as best as you can on your way to the long tables covered in plates of food. Though, perhaps your walk is a bit more subdued since you’re trying not to attract attention to yourself for the moment.

You quickly find a plate and cover it in small bits of food from the nearest charcuterie board. Maybe a cupcake or two. Velvette never let you eat anything too substantial with all her talk about not ruining your figure. Bold of her to try and make you think she even remotely cares about your body outside of testing her terrible fashion sense on it.

You don’t have enough money for this level of gambling, you also don’t have a dance partner yet, and it's perhaps not the best idea to drink anything for now since a hangover would be a dead giveaway that you had been outside of the tower.

Making your way to an out of the way alcove lined with load bearing pillars, you lean on one, admiring the scenery while idly snacking away at your plate, the small bits of food popping into your mouth without incident from the toothpick you were using.

A deep, rumbly voice pipes up next to you, accompanied by a particularly large presence. “Beautiful, ain’t it?” You don’t turn to face them, needing to play it cool lest someone discover your reason for being here.

“It’s nice, I suppose.” Such riveting conversation. Ah, yes, the definition of social mannerisms everyone. 

“Not up to your standards I take it?” The question almost feels defensive if not interrogative which puts you slightly on edge.

“No, it's nice. I guess I just don’t have much experience with more fancy parties. Not really sure what opinion I should have here since I’m mostly brought out to clubs and such. Never get the chance to be all regal and shit, you know?” You look down and realize your plate is empty, not even noticing that you had already eaten your cupcakes. 

You perk up when you feel the presence of the man moving to stand in front of you, offering a very large paw. You look up and you see a burly man in a suit about a head taller than you, red feathered wings and a tail fanning out behind him. He has his own mask, black, red, and gold, feathers all around it. It wasn’t too dissimilar from your own mask, the only difference being the more numerous feathers, the color palette, and the eye holes on your mask being purple while his are a dark red framed in gold. It also felt more raven themed, the beak slightly bigger than the one on your mask. You can also see his cat ears poking out from behind the wall of feathers, twitching occasionally. 

“Then shall I guide you?” His voice is smooth as his paw opens slightly to emphasize his offer.

You don’t know why, but you’re strangely taken in by this man. Perhaps it was his soothing voice or his tall stature, but regardless you gently take his paw in your own and he’s immediately guiding you to the dance floor, your plate being set back on the food table right before you two are right in the middle of the dance floor.

He snaps his fingers and almost instantly your ears are greeted by the sound of bongos and maracas, a sensual trumpet quickly introducing itself in the forefront of the melody. You two start off slow, him taking the lead in what feels to be a Tango like dance. Briefly, you wonder who this man might be. Maybe he’s the “DJ” for this party so to speak? Perhaps a high ranking demon here looking for a distraction? Or maybe… no. No overlord would have such an interest in you. Right?

Angel, meanwhile, has finally broke away from the cameras and is immediately making his way to the food bar, growing slightly concerned when he doesn’t see you. He takes a breath. It’s alright, you probably went to the bathroom or something until he got there. That’s fine. He’ll just have some food until you’re ready to meet up with him.

He stands around for a while, snacking on all sorts of sweets and foods that Val would never even dream of serving at his club. Steak, lobster, all sorts of pastries, the food bar was magnificent. He even found a nice assortment of cookies all the way at the end. Man, why can’t this Husker guy be his owner instead. All Val serves are alcohol and the cherry bullshit smokes he makes.

With a small sigh, he resigns himself to just enjoying what he has in the moment and turning his gaze upon the dance floor. He saw all kinds of dresses and one note suits, none of them really grabbing his interest. He’s wondering which one of them you yourself would be interested in until… he spots you right in the middle of the floor, dancing with a tall wall of muscles and chub.

Damn, you had barely been here for a few minutes and you had already scored yourself a partner for the night. Maybe you don’t need his help with this one? He begins drinking from his small glass of some sort of booze he doesn’t care to remember the name of and then he notices the cat ears, wings, and tail on the taller man with you. The instant sting of shock shooting through his body makes him choke on his drink, Angel instinctually trying to set his food down before it spills across the floor. 

He does a double take and no, he’s not hallucinating. You are dancing with the overlord of gambling himself and his first concern is if you know who he is.

You in fact do not recognize him and are more focused on the way he’s dancing with you. He’s certainly being respectful, but he’s also not so subtly drawing his paws across your body. No groping occurs, but you get the feeling he’s eyeing you up. Strangely, you enjoy it, allowing him to draw you in, briefly passing your own paws over his suit, feeling the muscles and meat underneath the tailored fabric.

Passionately, intimately, the dance goes on, a whole circle formed of all the admirers from the crowd. All eyes are on you two but you don’t care, far more interested as to just who this man is. Every turn and step leads right back to him. You dare turn your head away, he guides your gaze back to his own, each of you staring into the other’s mask, wondering just who it is that has deigned to be your dance partner for the night.

You’re not sure how long it is before you’re suddenly twirled around and dipped in his arms, the dance ending with your masks within kissing distance of each other. A few moments pass and neither of you move, staring at each other in silent contemplation until he speaks for you.

“Beautiful…” He stands up, pulling you with him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Are you plannin’ on stickin’ around?”

You turn your head to the familiar sight of Angel’s pink fur and see him enthusiastically giving you a double thumbs up. Smiling, you nod at your partner. “Of course, especially now that I’ve found a reason to stay.”

He chuckles, his wings lightly flapping and his tail swaying. “Didn’t know you were a charmer.”

“I try.” With that, you two walk off, holding each other’s paws in intrigue. For the next few hours the two of you eat, drink, and laugh, Angel keeping the rest of the party goers distracted with his mere presence alone. Anything to keep whatever this is between you two going for as long as possible. Of course, when the clock ticks closer to midnight is when Angel receives a text.

Pulling out his phone, he chokes on his drink, spitting out the booze onto the floor when he sees Val telling him the Vees are coming back from their little vacation, he in particular being struck with new inspiration and insisting they all return to the tower at once. 

Of course, Velvette makes no effort to inform you, your phone remaining silent. It's only when Angel bursts through the door into the room that you’re aware something is wrong.

“Angel? What’s wrong?” You ask, nearly standing up from your relaxed position on the love seat.

“We gotta go, now! The Vees are comin’ back to the tower!” Angel grabs your arm dragging to your feet and toward the door.

“Wha– now?! But they were supposed to be gone until tomorrow!” You protest, not quite ready to end the night you were spending with this lovely man.

“The Vees–?” Husk attempts to interject but is ignored.

“No time! Come on!” Angel keeps pulling you towards the door, wanting to get back as soon as possible so as to not incur the wrath of your respective owners.

“Doll, what’s going on? What’s this about the Vees?” You turn to see your partner holding on to your other arm, worry and concern in his voice.

Of course, as much fun as it was tonight, being with him and laughing without a care in the world, it wasn’t going to last. At the end of the day, you’re just a failed model belonging to one of the worst women in hell. You had no chance with this stranger whose company you enjoyed so much.

You pull your arm away from him, snapping your necklace off and shoving it into his paws. “I wish I could stay, but there’s not enough time. I’ll remember you.” And that’s all you can say before finally running away with Angel, the man watching the both of you leave. 

You wipe your tears as you run through the streets, hopefully you’ll be able to get back to the tower in time. Winding alleyways, close calls with local murderers and muggers, and nearly being spotted by several cameras were some of the few risks you took to get back to the tower unseen. And once back inside your room, the two of you rushed to reorganize everything, putting back your dresses, the heels, and hiding the mask.

You give Angel a stack of money for his trouble, as well hoping to back up your story to Velvette and Val in case they get suspicious from Vox’s partial footage. In what feels like minutes after you get back into your original outfit, Velvette is bursting through the door ranting up a storm.

“Ugh, can you believe Val cut our vacation short?! And Vox didn’t even try to protest! Honestly, that bloody piss baby and his sugar daddy is the reason why I can’t go anywhere! Come on, you! We got work to do!” She’s busy tapping away at her phone, likely on her alt accounts making trash talk posts about her colleagues.

“Yes, Velvette.” You sigh, knowing she’s already ignoring you with the way she’s talking at you.

You’re exhausted by the time morning arrives and Velvette has deemed it appropriate for you to do whatever you want. Your first instinct is to just go back to your room, but it's not going to be that easy, especially since a very familiar suit wrapped around a muscly belly has spotted you.

Like a deer in headlights, you freeze, watching in shock and awe as the handsome old man approaches you. His muzzle carries a rugged scowl, making him look perpetually pissed off, but you can see in his eyes that he’s as enamored with you, if not more than you are with him. Only difference being that he hasn’t essentially turned into a statue.

Feeling returns to your body when you jump at his paw holding yours. “You’re even more handsome without the mask.” His bassy voice is filled with admiration and your heart skips a beat when his lips press against the back of your paw in a gentle kiss.

You open your mouth to say something but are interrupted when your fur starts bristling.

“Oi! Who’s this old geezer laying hands on my model? And what’s this about masks?” Velvette sounds utterly offended and disgusted at the sight of Husk and the way he’s touching you.

Husk immediately notices the little jump you make when you take a step back from him, holding your arm against you. “I don’t know. He just walked up to me and kissed my hand.” You look away but can feel his eyes narrowing at you before focusing on Velvette.

“Mornin’, Ms. Velvette. Name’s Husk, the overlord of gambling.” His tone is almost instantly cold when he starts talking to you, in stark contrast to the almost loving cadence he had with you.

“And what do you think you’re doing with a failed model like him?” Velvette crosses her arms, raising a brow at him.

“Failed? In my opinion, he has you beat in the looks department. And I ain’t just talking about that rugged round face of his.” He smirks at you and you can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks.

Velvette almost snaps back at him, before her eyes squint with realization. She turns to you, borderline huffing and puffing. “You went to that party last night, didn’t you?! No wonder he’s talkin’ like he thinks he knows you!” She scoffs with a cackling smile on her face, stalking towards you like a predator. “Listen here you decrepit flabby tub of lard! No one in their right mind would ever get with such an unattractive waste of food like you! You are  nothing more than a waste of space who should take a dive off–!”

She’s interrupted by a cane with a dice topper pushing her away from you. You can feel the tears poking out against the corners of your eyes, your heart pounding in your chest. You don’t even remember when your back was against the wall.

“Do we got a problem?” Velvette scowls at Husk.

“How much you want for him?” Husk asks, standing between the two of you.

She scoffs, a disbelieving smirk on her features. “Really? You want this sad sack of ugly?”

“You say he’s a failed model, right? Then why not hand him off to someone else who can put him to better use?” Husk asks, his voice flat and nothing but business with her.

Velvette thinks about it for a minute before giggling. “You know what? Have him!” Pulling out what you recognize as your contract with her, she roughly shoves into his open hand, the ethereal manacle around your neck turning from a dark pink to a bright gold and extending to Husk’s paw. “He’s your problem now! Enjoy the useless doll you mangy mutt!” She turns on her heel and walks away, laughing like a hyena.

You’re not entirely present for the walk to the limousine, almost feeling like a fever dream that you were finally free from Velvette, only returning to your senses when you feel Husk’s arm wrapping around you. 

“Don’t you listen to her. You are one of the most handsome men in hell I’ve ever seen. And I love it when they have some meat on their bones. Because that just means there’s more of you to love.” You don’t get a chance to say anything when he unexpectedly leans down and plants a kiss right on your lips. And you can’t help but feel on cloud 9 when the limo starts driving away from VTower, and your special necklace is once again dangling around your neck.

“Name’s Husk, sweetness. What’s yours?”

[howdoyousleep3]

Prompt: Sex with a Stranger

Pairing: Shrunkyclunks (Modern Bucky Barnes/Captain America Steve Rogers) Word Count: ~6K Tags: shrunkyclunks, strangers to lovers, awkward flirting, stranger sex, public sex, car sex, blow jobs, anal sex, unprotected sex, clothed sex, porn with little plot, dirty talk, come as lube, size kink, feminization, multiple orgasms, coming untouched, Author's Note: I was truly planning on throwing my whole ass into Kinktober, but life totally and completely dragged me down lol. Hopefully I can contribute more because I have all the plans to, but I don't want to jinx myself. For now, here is a prompt I've been working on for years that hopped in my inbox a few years ago. This is for you, nonnie. 😉 Read here on Ao3

“I think this might end up being one of the greatest moments of my life, Cap…”

It was just supposed to be coffee. 

It was a simple and innocent enough request on Tony’s part, a cheerful inquiry about how Steve’s morning was going, how productive his run through the city at dawn was, which led to an invite for coffee. And coffee sounded damn good, as did the time spent away from the Tower, spent away from himself. 

Tony offered to drive, and although Steve barely fit into the passenger seat of the vehicle Tony chose to take— “They didn’t build this thing with your shoulder span in mind, buddy…”—  it seemed like a lovely way to spend an hour of his morning. 

But then Tony started talking about bikinis and broads and Steve had to stop and clarify—

“You asked me to go get coffee with you, Tony. Not...not a place with nudity or—” 

“Oh, my dearest Steven. You’re about to have the best coffee of your too-long life.” 

Steve goes through what he knows, filters through the limited 21st Century knowledge he carries and builds upon each day. 

He’s been to a few local places, ones that are open late at night that he has popped into when sleep doesn’t claim him. He is aware that Starbucks is incredibly popular. He’ll never get the sizing correct and has been told it is somehow both the best and the worst, but he thinks they have pretty decent coffee. Then again, he’s from a time where coffee’s intended purpose was to stimulate you enough to keep you awake for long working hours. 

Coffee is viewed very differently now.

Steve is about to tell Tony to turn around, to pull over and let him walk home because he really isn’t in the mood for any shenanigans, when Steve sees the sign— 

Java Juggs.

And then another sign of—

Bikini Baristas.

“Tony…” Steve warns, voice stern but it’s no match for Tony’s charming smile, his feigned innocence with a light, “Yes, Steve?” 

“Surely you are not taking me to a coffee shop where the women serving patrons their coffee are dressed in only their bikinis.” 

Tony nods his head, continues driving and follows the arrows painted onto the pavement of the parking lot that guide cars in the direction they should be driving, surely necessary only here given the...distractions. 

“Right, of course. Why would I do that?” Tony asks, tone serious, but when Steve takes one look out towards the incredibly small, standalone building merely the size of a shed, he has his answer. 

“Goddamnit, Tony.”

The women are indeed clad in bikinis. Steve has absolutely no idea how this business is legal, but he’s found out a lot of shit about the 21st Century is unexplainable and this must be one of those things. Steve is aware that a normal drive-thru window is small, coming up to most people’s chests, mid-torso, but these windows are much larger, dropping easily down to hip level. 

That has to be because of the baristas and their attire. 

There are only three baristas in the establishment that Steve can make note of. As they wait for the car in front of them to receive their coffee, Steve finds himself respectfully managing to take their appearance in while also not gawking. He will admit— these women have every reason to show their bodies off in the way they are choosing. They’re voluptuous and curvy, of varying shapes, two choosing to indeed wear a bikini. 

The redhead has chosen a white ensemble, complete with a bikini and a wrap of sorts around her lower half that makes it look more like a skirt, one that hugs her hips. The curvier brunette opted for a black bikini, also simple, and not a skirt per se, but Steve assumes it gets the job done. It looks like fishnets, hugs her lower half, stops right below the curve of her bottom. Steve can’t see the third barista but he can only assume she is dressed in the same kind of attire. 

“This is the best place in the city to come and get coffee,” Tony explains, and Steve is quick to furrow his brow. 

“Really?”

Tony scoffs. “Absolutely not. Come on, Cap.” 

Steve should just get out of the car and start walking home. 

“It isn’t terrible but, come on— it’s allowed to be shit. Look at ‘em!” 

Steve reaches for the door handle as Tony rolls the car forward, approaching the window, and that’s when he sees the third barista. 

Oh.

“Well look what the cat dragged in. Girls, your fave— Tony’s here.” 

“Hello to you too, Buckaroo. How are my favorite baristas doing, hmm?” 

Oh God.

Buckaroo is gorgeous. 

Since coming back to this life, Steve has not once been struck by someone’s beauty so suddenly as he is with the man at the window. 

It hits him in the very center of his being, feels like every inch of his skin is electrified where he sits cramped in this car. The man’s beauty punches him right in the dick, and he almost makes a noise, one Tony would surely hear given the compactness of this goddamn car.  He gets so hard so fast it knocks the air out of his chest but this is something more, something deeper.  

Where Steve was respectful with his eyes towards the two female baristas, he is anything but as he drinks in this other beauty. 

This man is young, his chocolate hair pulled up into an artful bun, the skin of his neck, of his entire body, making Steve need to damn near sink his teeth into his own fist to calm down. Steve just knows he’s soft, knows his skin has to be the most tender thing to press his fingertips into. And that thought makes him ache to touch this man. 

How inappropriate of him to have these filthy thoughts about a stranger.

But Steve can’t help it, damn him. 

He too is wearing a bikini, but his is crocheted into the pattern of two small, crimson stars that cover his nipples and are brought together by mere strings. His jean shorts are tiny, sit on his full hips low enough that the matching strings of the bottoms of the bikini sit high up on his hips. 

Steve finds himself wanting to bury both of his hands down the back of those shorts, to get two handfuls of what’s sure to be a ripe peach of an ass. The kid has to have an ass that matches the rest of him, one that Steve imagines himself sinking his teeth into even though he’s not once done that to anyone. 

Steve’s lewd and feral reaction brings a flush to his cheeks. He digs his fingers into the denim of his jeans. Is he sweating?

The stranger seems to be tall from where Steve is looking up and over at him, lithe and graceful and supple, and when he ducks his head, bends and rests his elbows on the windowsill, he knocks Steve out with one curl of his plush lips and a smack of his bubblegum.

“Who’d you bring along with you, Tony?” 

Steve feels his flush creep down his neck, one that is pronounced and intense. He adjusts where he sits, wiggles even. 

“Oh, right of course. This here is Steve! Told him I’d show him where to get the best cup of coffee in the city. Steve, Bucky. Bucky, Steve.”

“Oh yeah? Mr. Captain America himself? And you brought him here?” Bucky teases with a wink tossed easily in Steve’s direction before he purrs, “Heya, Stevie.” 

Steve is in love. 

He’s so in love he trips over his words, feels his blush darken impossible further and he makes an unexplainable gesture with his hand that he thinks will pass as a wave. He isn’t even sure if the words he uses are English, are ones Bucky can understand, but whatever he ends up saying makes Bucky giggle, face lighting up in a way that narrows all of Steve’s focus down to the way Bucky’s nose crinkles up cutely as he does so. 

Steve is really in love. 

“You want your regular, Tony?” one of the women within the stand asks with a holler and Tony nods, turning his curious gaze away from Steve to confirm his order. 

“Yeah, sweetheart— ten shots of espresso and then your Rainbow Unicorn blended drink.” 

Jesus. Steve doesn’t have enough time to be horrified before Bucky is speaking to him.

“What’ll you have, Mr. Captain?” Bucky asks, and Steve didn’t know it was possible for someone’s voice to sound like sex. In another life, one where Tony wasn’t mere inches from him and one where he had more instances of human interaction since coming out of the ice, he’d have a flirtatious response, one that would make it crystal clear for Bucky the direction of Steve’s thoughts. 

“I’ll uhh...do you guys have...have lattes?” is what he stumbles through instead. Tony immediately giggles, scoffs, but Bucky just smiles at Steve sweetly. 

“Yeah, big guy. We’ve got lattes. You want something sweet in that?” 

You. 

One word, just one word, that’s all he needs to say. Steve nods. 

“I’ll uhh...I’ll let you decide.” 

So close.

But Bucky hums, bites his lip, doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Too bad I can’t put a little bit’a me in your cup, huh?”  

Oh Christ.

Steve gulps, cheeks immediately flaring red, but he’s tired of fumbling over himself and his words, his wants. He ducks his head and looks right back at Bucky, mustering up just enough confidence to give him a solid once over before replying, “Yeah, that’s too bad.” 

Steve chooses to ignore Tony’s squawk and instead focuses on the way Bucky grins, the way Steve swears he sees Bucky’s cheeks glow pink. His stomach twists up pleasantly, butterflies joining in alongside the curl of heat. 

He can’t remember the last time he felt such validation before, especially that in the form of flirting. 

He floats through the rest of their interaction, eyes tracking Bucky as much as he can. He wishes to burn the various sexy images of Bucky into his brain, wants to pull them up later when he has time to himself with his fist and his cock. He doesn’t feel like as much as a pervert as he did minutes before, not with the way Bucky’s eyes meet his at every turn, a constant onslaught of further validation. 

He isn’t sure why he doesn’t ask for Bucky’s number before they drive off. He later blames it on the haze and heaviness of such an intense interaction, how he felt like he was wading through molasses in his mind as he watched Bucky wink at him as they drove away, still trying to memorize anything and everything he could about the brunette. 

He barely heard Tony’s chiding, his boisterous words that surely consisted of shit-talking him into the ground for his embarrassing behavior. He had no energy to dish it back, to stand up for himself in any way, especially when Tony mentions Bucky usually works tomorrow’s morning shift as well. 

“We’ll come back tomorrow morning and try that again because that was pitiful. Not only am I shocked you swing that way, I’m shocked at your absolute lack of flirting skills. I mean, could you not have at least…” 

Tomorrow morning. 

He’ll come back tomorrow morning, without Tony and with a clear head, all lack of self-confidence and pathetic attempts at flirting washed down the drain alongside his cum. Because there’s no way he’s spending the rest of the day doing anything but jerking off to images, thoughts, and scenarios of Bucky. 

Bucky, the curvy barista with the tiny red bikini and pinkest lips, the one who insinuated he wished Steve could eat him for breakfast. 

Fuck. 

Steve isn’t even ashamed in the slightest as he pulls into the drive thru the next morning, steady rain and darkened sky and all. 

After a day spent sitting on the shower floor alone with his hand and his dick, he spent too much of his night tossing and turning thinking about the way Bucky would feel under his hands to have any sort of shame this morning. Yes, he’s here to see Bucky; of course he is. Does it matter what kind of coffee he’s going to order? It does not. Is he going to ask Bucky out on a date or get his number? He absolutely is. 

He’s here without Tony, is alone without any added pressure, he’s thought of what he’s going to say— 

He’s going to do this. 

His planned out words are forgotten the moment it’s his turn to pull up to the window and he sees Bucky’s smile, bright enough to threaten to push all the rain out of the forecast.

He looks as ethereal as he did yesterday, glowing and angelic and delicious. Today he’s sporting a football jersey that is quite short, cropped and sits just below his chest, another g-string high on his hips that stands out because of his tiny denim shorts. 

Steve’s mouth waters at the same rate his dick turns to stone. He has to busy himself with putting the car in park so he doesn’t reach out his window and grab for Bucky right away, especially after Bucky purrs, “Heya, Stevie. Just had to come back and see me?” 

Steve takes a deep breath. He’s gotta start off strong. 

“Of course I did. How are you, Bucky?” 

His voice is perfectly confident. It’s strong and sturdy and smooth as he leans as casually as he can on his rolled-down window. Bucky meets him in the middle with his own lean against the open drive-thru window, cocking his hip and tucking his chin. 

“I’m good now that you’re here. My latte was that good, Captain?” 

Steve hums. He doesn’t even recall drinking the coffee Bucky made for him the morning before, but he knows it was perfect. He is more than intentional with the way his eyes wander before he answers quietly. 

“It was delicious, doll.” 

It’s the forwardness he was wanting from himself and the exact reaction he was wishing to get from Bucky. The tension between them finally snaps into place with strength that is so startling to Steve it has his heart hammering against his chest. He would be worried, would be backtracking and reeling himself in if it weren’t for the molten and seductive look Bucky is sending his way. 

“You want the same thing? Or do you want somethin’ a little different today?” 

Go in for the kill, Rogers. 

“Think I might want something even sweeter this time around,” he starts, pausing momentarily to watch Bucky’s tongue run along his bottom lip distractedly. “When is your shift over? How about I take you somewhere to grab something to eat?” 

That’s what people do, right? That’s not weird at nine in the morning? 

Bucky barely reacts to his proposition, but Steve can see it, the excitement of his words behind Bucky’s gaze and cool facade. He doesn’t even hesitate, doesn’t pull his eyes away from Steve’s when he raises his voice to speak over his shoulder. 

“Darcy! Can I take off early? You owe me.” 

Steve should have known Bucky was going to surprise him, to one-up him. He doesn’t hear what Darcy says in response, is far too focused on the way Bucky’s ass fills out his shorts as he gets quite the eyeful when Bucky turns around. He wants to take the strings of Bucky’s underwear that are resting on his delicious hips and suck them between his teeth. Steve hopes Bucky can tell where his eyes have been as he turns back around with a grin on his face that Steve can’t quite decipher. 

“I’ve got a hankering for somethin’ that isn’t food, big guy.” 

Steve doesn’t know what that means but has a sneaking suspicion it is alluding to something extremely sexual. He hopes it is. Steve’s mouth dries right up when Bucky hops up onto the window, throws a leg over it and straddles the window ledge with unbelievable grace. Steve doesn’t even respond before Bucky is peeking into Steve’s own window, looking into his car. 

“How big is your backseat, Captain Rogers?” 

Steve has ascended. 

He has once again left this life and instead of plummeting into frigid ice, he has been swept up into a flaming inferno. 

He thinks it’s all worth it now. Every shitty and bizarre thing that has happened to him in his life, both of them, has now been deemed worth it as he looks down between his spread thighs and watches Bucky suck down his dick like it’s the best gift he’s ever been given. 

Steve could have never guessed this is how his morning would go, that he’d end up in this random parking lot with Bucky pulling him into the backseat of his car and sitting himself right in Steve’s lap. Don’t get him wrong, it’s the ideal situation, everything Steve eventually wanted, but he thought this is what he’d get after a few dates, after some sort of courting. 

“I’m sure I’ll have some sort of appetite after I bounce myself in your lap the way I’ve been thinkin’ about for twenty-four hours now.” 

Steve had no objections whatsoever. Whatever Bucky wanted. 

“Knew I was gonna love suckin’ on your cock,” Bucky murmurs, voice like sex, dripping in arousal as he mouths at Steve’s cockhead before holding onto the base and smacking Steve against the flat of his tongue, then his cheek. “This isn’t a dick though— this is a cock. Look how big you are, Steve. Just big and pretty all over, aren’t you?” 

Steve’s intended scoff comes out as much more of a garbled whine than a huffed noise. “Right. M’not sure I’m the pretty one, kid.” 

Steve is reminded that he has never seen someone so beautiful in his life actually. He knew it after pulling up to that godforsaken coffee joint, but his realization is driven home in this moment, in watching Bucky suck him off like it’s a privilege, like it’s his only purpose. Even in this vulnerable, subservient position where he is threatening to suck the soul out of Steve’s dick, he’s breathtaking. 

Bucky’s eyelids are heavy with arousal, the curl of his mouth is the most sinful thing Steve has been witness to, and when said mouth is full to the absolute brim of Steve, he moans, makes the sweetest of noises like he’s lost in it. 

Steve almost wishes he could draw Bucky like this and he hasn’t felt compelled to draw with his heart in months.

 Maybe another time. 

“Don’t flatter me, Captain,” Bucky murmurs with a grin, flicking his tongue and mouthing at the crown of Steve’s cock in a way that has Steve’s vision swimming. 

“Steve,” he hears himself breathe, hand coming down to messily stroke a few fingers across Bucky’s cheek. “No Captain, not here. Not with you.” 

Steve’s insides feel all sorts of rearranged with the way Bucky looks up at him, with the seemingly nonstop stream of eye contact he gifts Steve with. He watches as Bucky’s eyelids flutter as he moans, dips his chin and wraps his lips around Steve, sucks. 

“Steve,” Bucky husks out sweetly before he’s swallowing Steve down again, letting him feel the back of Bucky’s throat. 

Bucky sucks cock like he’s a professional, like he’s an expert and he damn well knows it. He’s noisy with it, that perfect edge of sloppy yet succinct, complete with filthy wet noises that go right to Steve’s balls. Bucky moans around his mouthful, throatful, moves his hand in time with his mouth as he does so, slipping together so beautifully Steve has no choice but to drop his head back as he groans. 

The pounding of the rain on the hood of his car barely drowns out his noises. 

This kid doesn’t care that his chin is covered in spit, that his hand is coated in it as well, isn’t afraid to pull off and dive down to mouth at Steve’s sac, first one ball and then the other. Two seconds after Steve lifts his head up to look down at Bucky, he’s right back to dropping it back again, the feeling of Bucky’s tongue slipping behind his balls enough to make him damn near shout towards the roof of the car. Bucky huffs, whines as if he’s on the verge of a climax simply from making Steve feel pleasure he’s never once felt in his life. 

“I wanna make you come, wanna swallow your big load, Steve,” Bucky pouts, voice nasally and desperate in a way that has Steve gritting his teeth. It’s like he can’t bear the thought of pulling his mouth away from Steve’s dick, rubs his cheek against it, moans open-mouthed as he kisses at it between words. “But I want you to come inside of me more, wanna feel this fat cock fill my ass up.” 

Steve gasps, brings his hand down to Bucky’s head once more, this time with an edge of eagerness. He nods his head feverishly as he cards his fingers through Bucky’s chestnut hair, messing up his picture perfect bun as he guides Bucky to wrapping his lips back around his cock. Bucky obliges so gorgeously and eagerly Steve can’t help but moan appreciatively.

“Can...can come more than once. Can stay hard,”  Steve bites out, and he isn’t halfway through his choppy explanation before Bucky is moaning happily, damn near squealing around his mouthful. “You want both, Buck?”

He doesn’t need a verbal answer— Bucky gratefully sputtering and gagging on his dick is enough. 

It takes Bucky but sixty more seconds to make Steve come, embarrassing for him but something Bucky should most definitely take pride in. He sends Steve to the back of his throat, slide after slide, opening his mouth to not muffle the wet and filthy noises of his mouth working Steve over. 

When he comes, he feels his orgasm in his core, pleasure so sharp that it immediately leaves him struggling to take air into his lungs. He forces himself to not shove Bucky’s head down, to not take what little air Bucky has in his own lungs away from him. He fights through waves of his orgasm as he watches on as Bucky drinks him down, as he moans and swallows, moans and sucks, moans and bobs. 

Steve thinks he’s part of some sort of erotic show when Bucky spits bubbles of his mouthful of hot cum back onto Steve’s still- hard cock, whining pitifully when he goes to suck it off again, but Steve is beginning to think this is just Bucky. 

Bucky likes sex. 

Steve likes Bucky. 

Steve thinks he likes sex if it’s with Bucky.

His cock is still covered in his own cum when Bucky moves with pointed determination and a wet mouth from his spot on Steve’s floorboard. To say Steve is surprised even though he knows what’s happening is an understatement. He shakes his head uselessly. 

“It’s…do we…do you have a—” 

“No,” Bucky mumbles with a smile as he fumbles with his shorts. “No condom. I want you raw. I wanna feel you. I promise I’m clean, Stevie. Lemme feel you bare. If I get one chance with Steve Rogers; I want him bare.”

Steve is too overcome with the force of newfound arousal, a wave hot like fire, to reassure Bucky this will not be the last time they see one another. 

He manages to nod his head though, watching through hazy vision as Bucky moves to straddle him, reaching back to pull his excuse for underwear to the side. 

“Know you probably want me to keep my panties on, the way you’ve been eyein’ them. I’ll let you take them home when we’re done here. How ‘bout that?” 

Steve can’t stop his groan as it tumbles from his lips, and all he can think to say is, “But it’s…I’m messy,” as he feels about the cum still coating his erection.

Bucky moans, reaching behind for Steve’s cock, cum-covered and all. “It is messy, baby. But that’s the way I like it.”

Steve reaches another level of ascension when he hears those words, when he feels Bucky press the tip of his cock against his hole, when Bucky doesn’t so much as flinch as he begins to sit on him. 

Maybe it’s because he’s drunk on sex, maybe it’s because he can’t remember what sex felt like before this, but he feels the urge to confess his love for Bucky right there, back seat of a car in the pouring rain and all. He feels like he’s under a spell as he looks up at Bucky, as he takes in his flushed cheeks and glazed eyes, as he watches Bucky get lost in the sensation of being speared open by Steve’s cock. 

“Oh my god,” he hears himself slur, voice dripping in awe, and Bucky smiles— smiles— as he nods his head and lowers himself further onto Steve’s dick. 

It’s impossible for Steve to not reach for Bucky then, for him to not sit up with Bucky in tow and wrap an arm around his tiny middle. It brings their faces impossible close, forces Bucky's hands to come out and scramble for any kind of purchase as he continues to slide down onto Steve’s cock. When they land on his shoulders and then his face, his arms winding themselves around Steve’s neck, the intimacy nearly cuts off Steve’s air supply.

“Oh my god, sit on it.” 

“Steve…!” 

  “Oh baby, c’mon. C’mon…” 

They work in tandem to settle Bucky fully onto his cock, to make him as comfortable as possible with being split open. With the way Bucky bounces and sinks himself into Steve’s lap, it’s clear that he is experienced with sex. But there’s no doubt that Steve is incredibly well-endowed. In fact, Bucky tells him so, to Steve’s utter disbelief. 

“Steve,” he whines into Steve’s open mouth, voice so sweet it makes Steve’s bones ache. “Steve, you feel so big.” 

“I am big, baby— I am. But you can take it, right? Oh, you can take it.” 

He’s not once been one to talk dirty, not once been vocal in any past sexual encounter, but it feels natural with Bucky in his lap. 

Bucky nods his head frantically, wide eyes locked onto Steve’s as if hypnotized. “I can take it.” 

The fingers of his free hand come up to squeeze at the meat of Bucky’s ass cheek, smacking at it when Bucky all but squeals, encouraging him when words become hard and his vision blurs yet again. 

When Bucky’s ass settles flush against Steve’s lap, when he’s left gasping with how hot and tight and wet of a grip his cock is fully wrapped up in, they both share a set of moans, lips smearing messily against one another’s in an excuse for a set of kisses. 

Steve doesn’t even hesitate when he tastes himself on Bucky’s mouth. In fact, his cock pulses at the taste coupled with the reminder images of how Steve’s cum got into Bucky’s mouth in the first place. 

He’s coming to find he enjoys messy if it involves Bucky. 

What he expects to happen next is for the two of them to need to get used to the feeling of Steve inside of Bucky, for Bucky to need to wiggle and roll his hips to adjust to Steve’s size. 

He should know better by now that Bucky is set on surprising Steve at every turn. 

Because what Steve doesn’t expect is for Bucky to moan and press himself fully into Steve’s lap, chest to chest, , to spread his legs around him further and to pout, “Oh, my pussy’s gonna be feeling you for days, Stevie. Stretch it out so good.” 

Holy fuck. 

He lifts himself up in Steve’s grip, an arm around his waist and hand on his ass, and begins to give Steve the best ride he’ll ever have in his life, this one or any cursed one that comes after this. 

The way Bucky sucks cock is nothing compared to the way he rides one. His hips move like water, smooth but with ferocity that can only be compared to hunger, bouncing and rocking in a dizzying tandem. Steve gasps when Bucky adjusts and rises up on his knees, pulling his cock out of his ass and sliding back down onto it, repeating the motion with a guttural and cheerful moan. 

Between bouncing and rocking, Steve isn’t sure if he’ll make it out of this backseat alive. 

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby. Does it feel good? Does my pussy feel good?” 

Yeah— they’re going to have to carry him out of here on a stretcher. 

Steve’s thighs shake with the force of Bucky’s bounces, the sensation of the car swaying underneath them adding to the eroticism of the moment. He grits his teeth in an attempt to ground himself, yet all he can hear are the lewd noises of his cum slicking up Bucky’s pussy, easing his bounces and making it easier for Bucky to fuck himself down into Steve’s lap and onto his cock. 

He knows his grip on Bucky’s body has to be too tight, knows that if he isn’t actively thinking about his strength it can get away from him and cause great harm. 

But Bucky doesn’t seem to mind, not with how loud and how eagerly he fucks. The way his body moves, the way it bounces and jiggles in his lap and in said grip, warrants a tight hold. Bucky squeals against Steve’s mouth as he rocks his hips back and forth in Steve’s lap forcefully, finding his rhythm and that sweet spot deep inside of him. 

“Steve,” he all but begs, gasping and tugging at the hair at the back of Steve’s head. “Does my pussy feel good?” 

Validation. Bucky wants validation. Steve can do that. Moving to dig his fingers into the skin of Bucky’s hips, relishing in the shock and pain of Bucky tugging on his hair while his ass squeezes the life out of his cock, he growls through gritted teeth. 

“Pussy feels so goddamn good, Buck. Sweetest pussy v’ever fucked.” 

Bucky’s moan is different this time, more frantic, more emotional. It tugs at Steve’s balls. 

He wants more of that. 

He grabs a hold of Bucky’s ass cheeks this time, two overflowing handfuls that he spreads and spurs on, using his strength for good as Bucky shows more and more signs of his own climax. 

“You like how much my cock stretches your pussy out? You like bein’ stretched out like that?” 

Bucky’s movements become messier, less expertised, as if he’s been waiting for Steve to take over in order to feel. With Steve holding onto him the way he is and with him able to use his strength to fuck Bucky in his lap, Bucky winds an arm back around Steve’s neck, burying his face into the opposite side of it. 

“I love it,” Steve barely hears Bucky slur out. “I fucking love it.” 

“You love the stretch of me or you love hearin’ me talk about it?”

“Both. Both,” Bucky moans, messily sucking on the side of Steve’s neck as he continues to use Bucky’s body, his hole, like a toy. 

That’s all he needs to hear to push past his insecurities of being inexperienced. He lets the words flow, presses them right into Bucky’s jaw.

“Pussy’s so tight, Buck. Fuck. Never had a pussy as good as this. Squeezin’ the hell outta me. Bet it’s so pretty too. You didn’t even show it to me.” 

Bucky’s noises sound like garbled hiccups. Steve is hotter than hell for them. 

“That’s alright though— you can show it to me after this. Bet it’s even prettier all swollen and full’a my cum. Bet it’ll taste even better.” 

Bucky sobs.

“You filthy, bastard. I’m gonna come. Make me come, fuck me harder.” 

Yes. 

He picks Bucky up by the ass and pushes him back down onto his cock faster than humanly possible yet with ease, over and over again until Bucky’s noises are a constant stream, garbled and nonsensical. Being able to use his strength, the vice-like grip Bucky’s pussy chokes him in, the sweet noises Bucky lets out now into his mouth; it sends him all but sailing into his climax. 

“Come in my pussy. Use it for what it’s made for, Steve. Come in it, come in it. Come in my pussy. Fill it up and—” 

Steve blacks out. He isn’t sure if the ringing in his ears is from how hard he comes or from how loud Bucky’s fucked-out noises are, but the first spurt of his second orgasm has him blacking out. 

When he comes to, Bucky is writhing in his lap, wiggling against his front and in his grip, whining about his sweet pussy as he makes a mess of them both between their stomachs. Even through a seemingly watery haze Bucky is beautiful when he comes, free of touch and from Steve’s cock alone. Flushed cheeks, flushed neck, half-lidded eyes and a wet mouth; Steve’s never seen anything more bewitching. 

He can hear himself groaning, can feel the noise of it against the skin of Bucky’s neck when he pulls him close again, sliding his hands up and under Bucky’s cropped jersey. His skin is impossibly warm, impossibly soft. He turns and lets his teeth sink into the skin of his flushed neck, following through with his wish to do so when he first saw Bucky in the drive thru window.

Once he begins to touch Bucky, he can’t stop himself, his hands wandering and rubbing wherever he can, stopping briefly to play with the strings of Bucky’s g-string. 

He breaks the silence by clearing his throat and whispering gruffly. “I do think I want to take this home with me.” 

Bucky’s giggle is immediate and joyful. He pulls his head back, the effort of the movement obvious and sparking a deep sense of satisfaction in Steve. 

“I’m so happy you’re a freak too,” Bucky mumbles, voice raspy and fucked-out. “I was worried I would scare you away.” 

Steve slides his hands back down to Bucky’s ass, kneading at it and moaning at the still pleasurable feel of being inside of someone. 

“To be fair, I didn’t really know I was a freak. You brought it out of me.” 

Bucky purrs happily, squeezing at Steve’s chest and kissing his clean jaw. 

“Good. We can capitalize on that. Hopefully.” 

Steve’s heart soars happily, butterflies such a foreign feeling to him. He squeezes at Bucky further, getting another happy moan out of him. 

“We absolutely can.” 

To Steve’s pleasant surprise, Bucky seems to be in no rush to move from their entangled spot or from Steve’s car. With the exhaustion from using their bodies and the patter of rain falling from the dark sky, it becomes obvious to Steve that they could easily fall asleep here. 

And then Steve can’t help but recognize that he hasn’t felt this at ease with someone, this safe, with someone else since he rejoined this world. 

His grip on Bucky tightens at that thought. He’s unable to stop himself from turning his face and pressing his lips to Bucky’s neck. 

Bucky hums, rocking himself slowly in his lap. 

“Can you come more than twice in a row or…? How long between rounds?” 

Oh yeah— Steve likes sex and Steve likes Bucky.

[webslingingslasher]

you did reader having a bad day and going to see frat!peter but can we get him having a bad day and going to see trouble?

*cleaning out my inbox.*

three loud knocks at your door had you jump from your seat, you were so in the zone that the sharp sound had you frozen for a second.

making the short walk and pulling it open, peter forced his way in and ripped his backpack off before slamming it down. there was no reason to ask if he was mad because he was pissed.

'hi.' you try being gentle, even softly closing the door before peter points at you. 'i was sick, wasn't i?' you blink fast, 'wha-'

'i was sick! last week, i was sick!'

you have no idea where he's taking this, but you're in for the ride. it's not you he's mad at and that's very clear, he's just trying to share his frustration. 'you were sick. you were throwing up.'

'thank you! i was! it was awful!'

you nod with him. 'yeah, throwing up sucks.'

'it does! and guess the fuck what, i missed a quiz and this stupid fucking prick of a professor won't let me retake it. he tried blaming me and said i needed to be more serious, trying to insinuate i was hungover when he knows for a fact i've shown up on my fucking deathbed before!'

you feel anger build for him, peter takes his academics very seriously. so if saying he doesn't take it seriously feels like a slap in the face to you, you can't imagine how it feels for him.

'oh, that's fucked, petey. if you want i'll draft a letter to the dean and we can-'

peter laughs and shakes a finger in the air. 'already did it. and guess what, i got to retake it. but he couldn't handle the fact i went over his head and he called me immature and unequipped to handle the real world.'

you gasp, peter nods with exaggeration. 'yup! so fuck that class, fuck that prick, fuck the guy that got cheese on my shoes-' your eyes look at his nikes, true to his words there's splatters of orange on the tops. "- fuck ethan for getting me sick, fuck everything and everyone!'

a gulp of air, he calms himself down. 'except you. i still like you.' the room goes quiet when he sits on the edge of your bed. it's just one of those days where nothing you say will fix it and he just needs to feel sorry for himself and have someone do it with him.

you stand in front of him and hold his head to your torso. peter buries his face in your shirt and breathes deep, you're worried he might be suffocating himself. you take his snapback off and lightly scratch his scalp.

'i'm sorry everything and everyone sucks, petey.' you can feel a rumble when peter talks but you can't hear him at all. 'what's that, mumbles?' he has a slight blush when he pulls back, 'except you.' he hides his face again, holding you even closer.

'wanna look at me?' a thrash into your stomach, he's anchored around your waist. 'please?' another silent no. 'i wanna tell you something.'

a squeeze, he's listening. 'no, c'mon, look at me.' peter shouts into your shirt, it still comes out muffled. 'no. you just wanna see me all blushy and shy.'

you tickle behind the collar of his shirt, he jolts into your touch. 'just look at me, please?' a few deep breaths, he's not so pink cheeked anymore. you try to mimic peter when you're upset and cup his face, you get why he does it, he's so delicate under your touch.

'you are insanely smart, peter. i've seen the effort you've put into your work. remember one time i tried to see if i could help you finish but your math questions are like three miles long?' a small smile, your heart picks up. you're helping!

'and you're way more equipped than anyone i know, and you have the cleanest room in the house. oh, and you're a really good nephew.' there it is, that's what you were searching for. peter warmed under your touch, watching him transform into bashful had you soaring.

'not to mention how handsome you are. i mean, i totally get it, petey. cause you're my baby.' red, red, red. he turned red. peter dove for your chest, he can feel his heartbeat in his throat.

'you're being mean when i'm sad.' you pat his head before tangling your fingers in, 'i just wanted you to know that your professor sucks and is the dumbest person to ever talk to you. he's wrong and today sucked and that's all it should be.'

you bend to press a kiss to the crown of his head. 'wanna lay down for cuddles,' you wait until he shuffles away, 'my beautiful, handsome baby boy?'

another flush, you never noticed how good peter looked in red. 

[uglypastels]

okok I've had this idea brewing in my filthy mind for a few days so imagine sanji discovering camgirl! Strawhat reader and becomes kinda obsessed?? Maybe one day she wears something of his(maybe a ring or his shirt) live and he goes absolutely feral and has his way with her??😵😵💫

I took out the camgirl aspect because I just wasn't sure how to incorporate it into the universe?? (I'm still new to it, so trying to figure out the dos and don'ts haha.) but I hope it's still good.

masterlist | inbox - requests open

reminder that reblogs and comments are the best way to support writers on Tumblr

warning: 18+ content. MDNI. simp sanji. masturbation. suggestive language and actions. light biting.

Laundry Day.

'Can someone remind me again whose brilliant idea it was to fight the giant squid?' You looked down at yourself, stiff as a board, as you felt every inch of your body to be sticky with black ink.

When you looked up again, the rest of the crew had all found a sudden interest in the most mundane parts of the ship, not daring to meet your deadly glare.

'Thought so,' you mumbled. 'I'm gonna go change.' Awkwardly, you made your way downstairs to the bathroom to try and wash off the black goo the sea monster had spewed onto you. You scrubbed for what felt like an hour, with the stains just never seeming to seize. The water poured down your body, slowly turning from a black abyss into a drabby grey until it finally recovered to its natural clear state, and the smell of fish was exchanged for your hair conditioner and body scrub.

stupid. fucking. squid. You kicked around your thoughts as you got out of the shower, nearly falling over in the process.

Too tired to cross the ship to your room, you instead walked to the small laundry cabin that was next to the bathroom and picked up the first pair of shorts you found and a button-up shirt to throw on.

You had thought it was one of yours, always being fond of having some larger piece of attire to throw over a short sleeve, but you soon realised your mistake when you entered the kitchen.

Sanji was in the middle of setting some water to boil, glancing up at you from his work with a soft smile. That smile then quickly froze in what you could only describe as a shock.

'I know I look like a mess,' you sighed, reaching over to the cupboard where the crew kept their hardest liquor. The day just called for a shot. Or three.

'Not the words I would use.' Sanji said, the clicking of the gas stove intercepting him, 'Is that- is that my shirt?'

You glanced down, noticing the blue striped pattern on the material and the actual tailoring of the shirt as opposed to the ones you were used to wearing.

You cursed under your breath. 'Sorry. I'll go change.' You began unrolling the sleeves, already seeing how they started to crease.

'No,' Sanji coughed out. 'It's fine. Honestly.'

'You sure?' You looked up at him apprehensively, but he just shrugged and continued on cooking.

You poured yourself a drink and made yourself comfortable opposite Sanji, enjoying the show that was his meal prep.

'Where's everyone else?' you asked as he began chopping up vegetables.

'Uhm, probably sleeping off the squid,' he chuckled, focused on the ingredients. As he kept going, you realised his answers kept getting shorter and shorter with each question. What usually would be full of quips and flirtatious remarks was cut down, blunt, like the edge of a dull knife.

And at first you had brushed it aside as him concentrating on his craft, but the longer he cooked, the more noticeable it was how he avoided your gaze. Even when talking, he didn't dare look up.

'Are you really ok with me wearing this?' You asked eventually when he was done and washing his hands in the sink.

'Of course, darlin',' he wiped his hands on a towel. He was about to turn around, but you saw the moment as your chance and swiftly slithered by his side. He stumbled back slightly in surprise.

'So why have you been ignoring me for the past hour?'

'I haven't,' he slipped by you elegantly and got to packing up the prepared food into storage boxes.

'But you have-- you didn't even look at me until now.'

'Sorry, sweetheart. I was working.' Usually, his saying something like that would make you think things were back to normal, but he seemed nervous, and before you could say anything else, he excused himself to his cabin.

Confused and a bit flustered at the sudden departure, you stood in the kitchen for a moment. You had planned on going upstairs, to get some fresh air, when Luffy stormed into the room.

'Ah!' he exclaimed, 'glad to see you're back to your ink-free self.'

'Yeah, thanks, Luf.' You took another shot quickly and watched as the captain raided all the cupboards. 'Watcha looking for there?'

'The tangerine cookies that Sanji made yesterday. There should still be some here.' He stretched his arm out to pat around the back of the highest drawer.

'You sure you didn't eat them yet?'

'Nooo,' Luffy looked at you sternly. 'Because I put them there specifically so I wouldn't eat them earlier.'

'Right,' you nodded. 'Well, Sanji had been busy around here, prepping lunch for tomorrow; maybe he moved some things around,' you suggested. 'You could go and ask him.'

'Aaah, I could,' Luffy wavered, 'but I was hoping to do this without Sanji's help.'

'Did he ban you from the kitchen again?' After the last incident of Lufft stuffing himself full of snacks right before dinner, the cook had given him strict orders not to eat an hour before meals. Looking at the clock, you could see it was closing in on dinner time.

Luffy scoffed, which only confirmed your assumptions. With a sigh, you got up. 'Fine, I'll ask him. But he might be asleep, you know.'

'Thanks. You're the best.' Luffy said, arm the length of the room as he opened cupboard after cupboard. You just rolled your eyes and made your way to Sanji's cabin.

'Hey, Sanji,' you knocked softly, unsure if he had maybe decided to take a nap. With no response from the other side of the door, you tried again. You thought to just let it go and leave him be, but then you heard the clashing of the pans in the kitchen, followed by a Luffy 'I'm ok!' and knew that you needed an answer for your captain. These were desperate times.

'Hey, Sanji,' you opened the door. The only thing you had really seen was the shape of his body splayed out on the bed, and it was more of an instinct or a gut reaction that told you that you should not look any further. So, quickly apologising, you shut the door again as Sanji cursed out in shock at the door opening.

'Sorry!' You shouted through the door, simultaneously trying to comprehend the blurs of your vision and trying to forget anything you might have seen. He wasn't... no, that wasn't... no.

There was some stumbling coming from his room, followed by a few more curse words. You didn't know why you were still standing beside his door, but he certainly didn't expect you to have stayed there, and so, when he entered the corridor, your bodies practically collided.

'I didn't see anything!' You blurted out before Sanji could say anything. Both your faces were wide in horror. 'I swear- I just,' you made the mistake of taking his appearance in. His shirt was untucked from his trousers, belt unbuckled and hanging at his sides. Oh god. 'I just... I was wondering where the tangerine cookies were. The ones you made yesterday.'

He was still hard. Most of it was hidden by the layers of clothing, but there was no denying it. You did your best to keep your eyes on his face as he listened to you blurt out words like a maniac, but it sure was difficult as all the puzzle pieces came together.

'They should be in the left cabinet, bottom shelf. Behind the baking ingredients. I hid them so Luffy wouldn't eat them before dinner.'

'Good thinking,' you laughed, probably a bit too loud for the situation, but the nerves were getting worse by the second. 'Well, bye then.' And with that, you ran off to the kitchen, leaving Sanji in all his unspeakable glory behind.

In the kitchen, you were met with Luffy picking up the pans he had dropped and Nami looking at him with what could only be described as disappointment. Without acknowledging them, you walked over to the left cabinet, opened the bottom half of it and searched the bottom shelf for the box of leftover cookies, slamming them onto the counter. Luffy immediately lunged forward to them, oblivious to your shocked state, but the navigator was a bit more perceptive.

'What happened to you?' she asked, declining the offer of a cookie from the captain, who already had two in his mouth.

'Nothing,' you shook your head.

'You look like you've seen a ghost.'

'I didn't! I didn't see anything!' Nope, nothing at all. You definitely did not see that. Or how big it was... or how his hand looked wrapped around it... or his face when he- NO.

'Hey, is that Sanji's shirt?' Now, Luffy decided to be observant. You looked down at your shirt as if you had only now noticed what you were wearing.

'Oh, I guess it is.'

'He must be having a field day with that,' Nami snickered, to which you looked at her confused. She, in turn, rolled her eyes 'Like you haven't seen the way he looks at you on a regular day.'

'I- no?' you blinked, trying to grapple with what she was talking about.

Nami just shrugged before grabbing the last cookie from Luffy's hand and walking out of the room. If you thought he would be aware of anything that you had just talked about, you would have asked the captain if he knew what Nami meant by her comments but instead just contemplated on it all by yourself.

Against all your survival instincts, you walked back in the direction of Sanji's door and knocked again. This time loud and clear. There was shuffling coming from the other side, and a second later, the door opened to reveal Sanji. His lips were pulled in a tight line of a smile as he looked down at you.

'Hey, can I come in?' you asked softly.

'What?' Sanji asked before the initial question properly connected in his mind. 'Uhh, I don't think that's a great idea.'

'Sanj, we should talk about what happened earlier.'

'Do we, though?' His voice raised in pitch nervously, but you just glared up at him, unimpressed.

'Sanji, please just let me come inisde.' You pushed out any thought that just burst through your mind that did not have to do with the current situation, but it was hard to see the images of what you saw in his room before were still very much playing over and over in your head.

In the end, Sanji gave in and opened the door for you. As you walked in, he stayed behind you, hand running nervously through his hair, as he spoke: 'Listen, I'm really sorry about... everything that happened today, really.'

'You have nothing to be sorry for.' You turned to face him. 'I'm the one that stole your shirt and stormed into your room unannounced.' It was his room. He had the right to do whatever he pleased in it.

Sanji laughed awkwardly, looking away to the far side of the room, but even then, you caught how his eyes glanced and slightly lingered over your body. The blue-striped shirt still hanging over it.

You, in the meantime, fought the urge to look at his body, combined with the memory of what you had caught him doing.

Maybe it was the few shots you had taken earlier to forget about the giant squid attack that instead did nothing you had hoped for but only made you bolder as you asked: 'were you thinking about me?'

'What?'

'You know, earlier. When I walked in. Were you... thinking of me?'

'Shit, don't make me say it.' He combed his fingers through his hair. You walked over to him, closing the gap between you lightly.

'Why not?'

'Because I don't want to make things weird between us.' His jaw clenched as you came towards him, and you couldn't help but laugh at what he had to say.

'Oh, it's definitely too late for that now. Things are already weird.'

'Super weird, aren't they?' he asked softly, strangely intensely.

And so, when you responded, your agreeing words were only as hushed as he had been, too focused on each other's proximity. The two of you stood there, frozen between actions, taking each other's bodies in at the new lack of distance until Sanji took the final step over the edge, kissing you with his hands on cupping your cheeks.

You stumbled back at the force, steadying yourself when you caught onto the shirt he was wearing. One of his hands moved down to your waist, guiding you to his bed until the back of your knees hit the wood, and you lightly fell back.

Sanji placed himself over you, and as his weight pressed over you, you could feel his hard-on through his trousers. A curse fell from his lips when you reached for it and your fingertips moved over the material.

'You've been drivin' me insane the whole day, walkin' around in that shirt.' He said as he began leaving a trail of kisses down your neck.

'Figured,' you couldn't but be a bit smug about it, which he did not seem to appreciate given the pinch of his teeth you felt on your sensitive skin.

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him even closer to you, trying to get some, friction out of the movement as he pressed himself against you.

'Cocky are we?' He smiled into his kisses, and at this point, all you could do was nod in agreement.

Sanji kept himself up over you with one hand as he used the other to unzip your shorts. One-handed and without a clear view, taking them off turned out to be a bit more of a challenge, far more awkward than expected when you tried to shuffle out of them, but his touch on your skin made up for it by tenfold.

You were about to make a start on unbuttoning the shirt you were wearing when Sanji stopped you. 'No, keep it on.' and kissed you before you could make any other snarky remark on his behalf. But when he pulled away again, though slightly dazed by the passion, you still managed to comment.

'If this is the treatment I receive for stealing your clothes, I might just do it more often.'

To this, Sanji groaned through his teeth. 'You're gonna be the death of me, sweetheart, I swear.

[prudentseer]

etho down bad on his knees for joel after initially rejecting him but pride-and-prejudice-enemies-to-lovers-period-drama style

sorry i had to find someone who might(?) share the vision

Hold my hand when I say this anon but never be afraid to drop your takes into my inbox, I love to hear them regardless of whether or not I see the vision.

Fortunately for you however. I SEE THE VISION, I UNDERSTAND YOU.

The "fell first--fell harder" dynamic for boat boys fits SO WELL in my mind because of double life. Etho being wary of Joel, kinda sad that he's teamed with him and by the end he's right there with Joel in chanting "The ship burns everything burns". Also their dynamic in limited life where they were "exes"...they are enemies your honour. I call that character development.

In fact, I see the vision so much that I actually wrote something in a more arranged marriage, period drama-esc style a long while back. It's unfinished (and a bit out of order for context purposes) because historical fiction is not my specialty and I know it's not exactly what you asked for, but it's what I had and I thought I'd share a snippet (it's 1.2k words I don't think I can exactly call it that anymore) of it.

It was odd, really, how much love could feel like an obsession.

He expressed it as quietly as he possibly could in forehead kisses and small gifts; just so it didn't collect in his chest to claw at the confines and suffocate him. And it was probably dramatic to say but with the lack of air he felt around Joel it truly did feel as though if he didn't let some of it out of his heart, he'd explode.

Or even worse, he'd tell Joel how he really felt.

He'd gotten dangerously close on occasion after too many drinks by the fireplace or Joel dancing a step too close. But he didn't.

Because Joel didn't love him back.

And why would he? Etho had all but forbidden him from doing so.

This day had felt equal parts fast and agonizingly slow. But he had a feeling that a marriage he didn't agree to, with someone he barely liked, for power he couldn't have might have something to do with that.

Joel rests on the edge of the bed, one leg up and crossed on the mattress while the other dangled loosely over the edge. His tie hung loose around his neck and his shoes long kicked off but his suit still on. Etho leaned against the dresser across from him, arms folded and mouth pressed into a firm line. The grandfather clock ticking beside them. It had been three minutes and 29 seconds since they've entered their shared room and neither of them had spoken.

It was much easier to watch as time passed silently than it was to look at the person in his bed, the matching ring on his finger.

A heavy sigh startles him from his thoughts. "Listen, could you at least pretend to tolerate me?"

Etho blinks slowly. "I--"

"Don't say you have because how you've been acting like there's been a knife at your throat the entire day." Joel interrupts, running a hand through his hair. A nervous tick, something Etho noticed in the time they've spent together. "I've sent you three letters since we last saw each other; none of which you replied to, you were barely there for any of the planning process and when I see you for our actual wedding, you can't even look me in the eye."

"That's because--"

"Of what? Because I told you that I loved you?" Joel rolls his eyes. "God, excuse me for putting an effort to make it work with the man I've been betrothed to for over a year."

He remembers the day. They'd been exchanging letters weekly for several months at this point but it was only their third official time meeting in person. It was a nice day so they took a walk through Joel's garden and I instead of the flowers Etho noticed that there was this look in Joel's eye, a smile on his face and a certain tone in his voice...Joel didn't even need to tell him. He just knew. It made it extremely uncomfortable to see him again, that they both knew.

He glances down at the ring on his own finger before shaking his head.

"I'm never going to love you like you want me to."

"That's fine." Joel states, a small twitch in his face betraying his words. "I'll...I'll get over it eventually if it means you'll work with me."

Etho tilts his head. "Work with you?"

"You don't have to love me. You don't even have to like me or be friends with me..."

"But...?"

"But we're going to be a team." Joel finishes, pulling off his tie in one swift movement as he does. "This means you're going to sit next to me at gatherings, you're going to dance with me at least once when we're invited to balls, you'll eat one meal a day with me, you'll share a room with me and please for the love of God, at the very least don't look like you're going to throw up when you see me."

A compromise. A reasonable one.

"I can do that." Etho replies, as level as he can, straightening his own tie as he does. "On one condition."

"What?"

"You won't ever expect anything more."

He's being bitter and he knows it. Taking out his anger out on someone who doesn't deserve it, someone who didn't ask for this either. It's unlike him really, that he can't bring himself to care.

"You're not exactly making it difficult lad."

"Joel--"

"You have a deal."

Etho nods. "Then I'll play the part."

"You'll play the part *well*."

"I promise."

Etho didn't remember exactly when it stopped being a show to him.

"Really interesting page?"

Etho blinks himself back into reality, Joel staring at him so intently from his side of the bed that he feels his chest tighten. "What?"

Joel chuckles, rubbing his eyes sleepily before shuffling close enough that Etho can wrap an arm around his shoulder. And he does, squeezing it lightly as his arm curls around.

"You've been staring at this page blankly for the past ten minutes." Etho glances at the grandfather clock in the corner. It's been longer. "You don't have to read the book if you don't like it."

This book was Joel's recommendation and Etho had to admit that it was good, he'd just been...very distracted lately.

"No I like it's just..."

"Yeah?" He smiles, head bumping Etho's shoulder. It burns. Every touch Joel gives him feels like fire has been set to his veins. "What's wrong?"

And his eyes are staring up at him so soft and kind and warm and understanding and it feels like he can tell him anything. Almost anything. The words feel heavy on his tongue, going down like oil as he swallows them.

"Nothing, you should go back to sleep."

He won't be able to resist forever but he buys himself one more day.

Joel's nose wrinkles. "You--"

And Etho is saved by the fact Joel's interrupted by his own yawn.

"You know I'm not stupid right Etho?" Joel states, settling further into Etho's arm as he does. Etho only pulls the sheet tighter. "You've been weirder than usual and if you won't tell me, I'll figure it out myself."

Theoretically, he could tell him but what then? He wouldn't leave, he wouldn't laugh but if Joel knew what Etho felt for him, he would never let him get this close to him again.

And it'd exactly what he deserved.

Karma for being an asshole to someone who just wanted to not be treated like dirt by his husband of circumstance and all he can do is accept it. Accept that he missed his chance.

Maybe one day his heart will catch up with his brain.

"Goodnight Joel."

"I'm serious." He yawns again, head tucked into the crook of Etho neck; breath tickling his clavicle. "I know you better than you like. Just wait."

It's true and it's even scary sometimes. Etho wonders how on earth he got so lucky to have someone that understands him like Joel. Someone who was willing to stick by his side through everything.

Etho waits until Joel is settled, snoring softly again before he places his book down gently on the nightstand, blowing out the table side candle. He tilts his head and presses a soft kiss to the top of Joel's head, waiting in case he stirs.

"I love you." He whispers into his hair, taking a breath when there's no response.

And the part of his chest settles just enough that he feels like he can sleep too.

[pharma-tard]

So nobody knows if those text messages are actually legit and even if they are it's literally just thought crime at this point?

Also really brings in a question why you or anyone sat on these for what two or three years as everybody keeps saying so was it really about outing a dangerous person or more likely a vendetta considering other people you claim have allegations against that you didn't expose or what your play in all this is.

There are actual dangerous and creepy men running rampant but you choose this and to do so on the day you did for a reason but tumblr ppl like yourself are retarded and dont need much to bark up a tree.

Do better.

I'll break this down bit by bit

>So nobody knows if those text messages are actually legit

I confirmed they were real when I got them, there's no reason for me to post what I saw for that bc it drags multiple other parties in purely to convince like three people. I've been extremely diplomatic with this drop because it's real, and I think the fact he deleted immediately speaks for itself.

>even if they are it's literally just thought crime at this point?

This is literally the same logic as "no you don't understand, she only looks 10, she's 9000 in the lore". Yeah, it's a "thought crime" -- it's not acceptable to think children or dogs are sexually attractive, and it's even less acceptable to indulge those fantasies. This is not revolutionary thinking.

>Also really brings in a question why you or anyone sat on these for what two or three years

I got the screenshots at like 5 AM Saturday (Serbian time) and gave myself until Sunday to have the post ready. That's about 36 hours.

>so was it really about outing a dangerous person or more likely a vendetta considering other people you claim have allegations against that you didn't expose or what your play in all this is.

This is so stupid and I have to break this down into chunks

Yes, it's about outing a dangerous person. I don't see why "Pharma doesn't like people who want to fuck kids and dogs" is such a hard thing to believe.

I never had anything against him before I found this shit out, in fact I don't think I ever even talked to him the entire leadup to this. I'm extremely loud and annoying about people I hate, and the worst I do is start fights and talk shit. Like come on, you're writing fanfiction at this point.

All I've posted is that I have allegations in my inbox about other people, I didn't say which people, and the purpose of doing that is to encourage people who've actually got evidence to come forward. Would you rather I just post a bunch of "he said this", "he did that", anons with nothing backing them up? Use your head here.

>There are actual dangerous and creepy men running rampant

Yeah and we just got rid of one of them. Again, send me evidence and I'll do the same shit to whoever tf it is you're thinking of.

>tumblr ppl like yourself are retarded and dont need much to bark up a tree.

Very unfortunate choice to use a dog metaphor here is all I'll say to that.

[slvtforfiction]

Can you do something with jake and he's telling his fans that the got a new gf?

New Girlfriend ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

☆ Omg yes!! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

☆ Thank you for the ask anon <3

☆ Jake Webber X Reader

☆ Fluff! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

☆ Sorry that it’s short ml ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

☆ Masterlist

☆ Hey guys! Before anything else I would ask you to request anything you want because I've lost a lot of motivation and it would really help! :D (Please look at pinned post to see if requests are open.)

☆ Creds to @cafekitsune for dividers :)

“Are you sure you want to do this? You know you’ll get hate for it.” I told Jake as we drove in the car to get food for the video.

I knew it would come to this after about 3 months in,it was currently out 3 month anniversary and he had gotten me chocolate and flowers.

I was sat in the passenger seat,looking in the mirror as I applied my makeup,mentally preparing myself for the hate I was about to receive. Although I knew as long as I was with Jake nothing and no one could hurt me.

“I’m sure,I promise,I’m more worried about you getting hate though.Are you sure?” He asked gently,squeezing my hand that rested on the centre console.

“I don’t care about the hate,as long as I’ve got you.” I promised him,as I smiled softly at him.

We grabbed our food from the restaurant and made our way back home,in the car,still talking about the video and if we were both sure,to which we were.

We spoke on the way home,nothing in particular but it was moments like this that made us believe in us.

Knowing we could speak about nothing and everything meant everything to me.

We sat down in front of the camera and I smiled at him setting up our food.

“Are you sure?” I asked him a final time,he smiled, “I’m one hundred percent sure as long as you are.” He told me, “I’m sure.” I smiled.

We sat down and began eating our food as we talked together,already hinting through movements that we were together.

I knew he would have to say it soon and my stomach rose,contorting between butterflies and my stomach dropping entirely.

Any relationship,even platonic,I had with another YouTuber always led to hate or supportive edits. I was preparing myself for both.

I had kept quiet a lot through out the video and Jake had noticed but he kept the video going just in case.

We were talking about the last time Johnnie had come round and it had turned into chaos,I laughed a long with him reliving it as I smiled.

It wasn’t laughable in the moment,but it was beyond funny now I looked back at it,thinking about how I had almost broke my arm at Johnnies expense.

I smiled up at him telling him I was ready,resting my head on his shoulder briefly.

He rested his hand on mine and I smiled as I realised what he was about to say. He held my hand tight as the words slipped out of his mouth and it was music to my ears.

“So I’m sure you’ve seen Y/n crop up in a lot more videos than usual and I’ve already seen some edits and a lot of you were right,so this is my girlfriend Y/n!”

I smiled and nodded throughout his speech as I affirmed it. “Uh yeah,I don’t know what to say but please don’t send hate to Jake at all because it’s not going to change.” I laughed as he gave my hand a squeeze.

“Please don’t send hate to either of us,because that’s hater behaviour,not fan behaviour and neither of us will reply to you not give you any fame or time of day.” He affirmed,knowing that the hate would come whether we wanted it or not.

“As of recording this video we have been together for exactly three months,so happy anniversary to us!” I giggled,trying to be positive and taking back my voice and talking more.

Now that it was said my nerves had calmed as I realised nothing could come between us,even if we did receive hate.

He gave me a kiss on the cheek and smiled back at me,I could already see the edits flying into my inbox.

I smiled as we finished our food,finally out there as a happy couple,whilst I knew Jake would have to edit the video I knew that we didn’t have to hide it any more.

If I wanted,I could scream from the rooftops that he was my boyfriend and everyone would know.

[wonderlandwalker]

One Day at a Time | Finnick Odair x Reader

previous part / thg masterlist / inbox

summary: a short collection of sweet moments shared between you and Finnick as you recover, reminding the both of you of the love you share (part four of the remember series but works on it's own) tags / content warnings: fluff, no use of y/n, mentions of punching, I really think that's it. word count: 1.6k a/n: It's finally here! Sorry it took so long my only excuse is that I am an absolute mess of a human being which is a terrible one but oh well. This will be the final part of the series, hope the fluff makes up for all the heartbreak I've put you through <3

It's been a week now, one week of blissful moments spend with Finnick while recovering from the attack within district 13. After all that had happened you were in need of some peace, and the universe granted it.

On the first day you were still in the hospital wing, an IV dripping steady fluids into your system. You woke up to Finnick sitting next to you, one of his hands holding onto yours while the other was holding up a book. It was one of your favourites, and you had been pestering him about reading it so you could talk about it with him, but he had always brushed you off, saying he'd get around to it eventually. It seems eventually finally came around. You coaxed him into getting in the bed with you, he was hesitant at first, not wanting to hurt you, but he wasn't above your charms either, your eyes pleading with him in a way he couldn't resist. He had settled in behind you, letting you lean against him, ignoring the dirty look the nurse gave you. You had asked him to read to you, and even though you already knew it by heart, his sweet voice added a whole new element to the story so beloved.

The second day was spent trying to convince the nurse to let you leave the hospital room, if only for a few hours, she didn't initially want to agree, but Finnick simply wouldn't drop the subject. So you walked together towards the dinner hall, feeling like little children sneaking out past the curfew.

Supper had already finished, but Finnick was friends with one of the cooks who let him into the kitchens. He told you to sit down on the table in the middle of the room and gave you a quick peck on the lips before moving over to the fridge. It was simple, it wasn't much, but it was perfect. He would let you taste the dish in-between steps, always forgetting one ingredient or another, but you didn't mind reminding him. At some point you could have sworn he was doing it on purpose, but maybe he was just too caught up in having you there with him again. You offered to help with meting the butter, dicing the vegetables, stirring the sauce, but each and every time he would insist you stayed right where you were, accentuated with a quick kiss, his hands on your face smearing flour all over your jaw, not that you minded. He claimed he was the better cook anyway, that you'd only hold him back, now that one you both knew was a lie, but it was a precious one, one that didn't need to be disturbed.

Day three consisted of a slow day back in your room, having been cleared by the doctor and finally being in your own space again. You and Finnick hadn't shared a room in a while now with everything that had gone down, but you had immediately decided to spend your nights together again, not wanting to spend more time apart than necessary. You hadn't fully recovered yet, still needing your rest, but Finnick had set his mind on moving your things back into his room today.

So there you were, sitting crossed legged on his bed absentmindedly sipping on some coffee he had brought you as you watched him bustle about. He was only gone a few minutes at a time, but you never failed to produce a smile when you saw him approaching again, hands full with some of your books, the collection of flowers he had given you over the years that you had dried and pressed in-between the pages were sticking out slightly, but he handled them with care. Even while you weren't together you couldn't find it ins yourself to get rid of them, and you're glad of it now. He goes back and forth for a while, collecting your pillow, your skin care products, your small radio that barely managed to get a reception down here, but you couldn't bare to part with. Each time he'd ask you where you wanted him to put it down, carefully creating a space that consisted of the both of you.

On day four you had finally woken up in his arms again, wondering how you could have ever forgotten this feeling. When he noticed you were awake he had moved to place a delicate kiss on your lips, basking in the simplicity of the fact that he could. He had told you he had a surprise for you today, and you couldn't help how giddy you already got from the mere thought of what it could be. But it was oh so much better than you could have imagined, because today Finnick took you to the surface. How he managed to get you past all the checkpoints was beyond you, and when you asked he had simply said he had friends in all the right places.

It was a bit of a walk to the spot he wanted to take you, but you revelled in the sunlight against your face, needing to squint your eyes to see properly with how bright the sun was but too blissed to care. The high grass rustled against your bare legs as you continued to walk, and the tickling sensation brought back so many fond memories. When you finally made it to the clearing it was a sight from a dream. The tree next to the lake provided a shadow you could both comfortably lay in as the smell of the fresh water blessed your senses once more. The wildflowers adorning the space around you were once you could recall from back home, with a few others you couldn't identify. Finnick had picked a few, placing them behind your ear as he talked about what the flower meant. A myosotis, he had called it, representing true love and dedication. He told you about the myth behind the forget-me-nots, how they had been afraid of being forgotten by the gods, and you had vowed in return to never spend a day without thinking of him again.

During the fifth day you didn't do much of anything special, but you supposed that depends on your definition of the word. Finnick had made dandelion tea from flowers he had collected yesterday, the familiar taste bringing back a sense of nostalgia for a time that you wouldn't be able to return to. You had once told him your mother used to make it when you were sick, and ever since he would go collect them by the cliffs for you. You had insisted it was too much work that he didn't need to worry himself with, he had countered that he enjoyed the view where they grew anyway, and really, he was going for himself as much as for you. Maybe he had simply been trying to get you to stop fussing over the subject, maybe it had really been true.

You spend the day talking to your friends, reminiscing in regained memories and filling in gaps that you couldn't on your own. As you sat next to Johanna she talked on about the days Finnick spent longing after you, claiming he was alright wirh being just friends, but she was convinced that if any of her friends looked at her the way he looked at you she would have suckerpunched them.

On the sixth day you had begged Finnick train with you, saying how you wanted to get your strength back, how you missed the exercise and the content feeling of aching muscles. He had been reluctant, of course he had been, but once you had managed to drag him onto the training mat he revelled in it. He couldn't deny he had missed sparring with you, the action so effortless with you. He had made fun of how you threw your punches, saying you had to extent your arms further to complete the motion, but he was the one not protection his core properly while fixating on you. It had been good to feel your body in motion again, he was still stronger than you, knocking the breath out of your lungs once be stopped holding back, but you were still faster, getting the drop on him in the split seconds he was distracted. The manner in which your muscle memory still held up, the way in which you still used the same techniques without meaning to, it was good to know there are some things people can't take from you.

The seventh day you picked your routine back up. Waking up to an empty bed but not lonely, his side was still warm as you rolled over. Once you opened your eyes you saw the cup of coffee and the note on the bedside table. Finnick knew you never slept for long after he left, somehow he still knew. He had been given some time off during your recovery, but district 13 didn't stand still and they had needed his help. You weren't expected back yet, but the sense of purpose was one that you were always glad to have. You drank the coffee he left you as you got dressed, smiling as he had made it exactly to your liking, even if he used to complain you couldn't even call it coffee anymore with that much sugar in it. And so you went back to work, moving to scribble a quick message on the back of the note if he came back looking for you, not that he needed it, somehow he would always know where you were.

In the past week you had learned that a love as great as the one you shared with Finnick could never be forgotten, not really, because no matter how many memories faded, there would always come new ones. And soon, even though you didn't know it yet, Finnick would give you his mother's ring once more, and this time you would remember everything that led you here, and you would remember saying yes.

[sansaorgana]

So I adored the buck x reader secret relationship! Can you write, kind of a continuation of it where the reader finds out she's pregnant and Buck overhears some of the nurses taking about it (trying to work out who the father is etc) and Bucks trying so hard not to react so he doesn't give the two of you away and he goes to find you to confirm it and then it's really fluffy? So sorry it's so long!

hello, dear! thank you so much, first of all! 🥺 I loved writing this because I'm a sucker for pregnancy drama 😂 I might even write part three to this 👀

[ PART ONE ] || [ PART THREE ]

my inbox is open for blurb/short fic requests for major cleven 🤗

Buck was surprised that you weren't the one to hand him a cup of coffee in the morning. In fact, you weren't around at all. His eyes wandered all over the room looking for you but you were nowhere to be seen. Usually, you would be doing the same thing as him every morning – looking for an opportunity to touch him a little or talk to him, give him a smile, anything. Today you weren't there at all.

After eating breakfast, Buck decided to go to the sickbay to visit some of his friends that had been there since the last mission. He especially wanted to see Bucky who had his hand slightly injured and was extremely annoyed by that because he didn't want to miss out on any mission.

"How are you feeling?" Buck asked, sitting on the chair next to his friend's bed.

"Like shit, you?" Bucky rolled his eyes.

"I asked about your hand."

"The hand is better but they said I can't go on the next mission tomorrow. I can't let you have your 25th before me for God's sake," Bucky gritted his teeth.

"You're no use with a hand like that, Bucky," Buck teased and pushed his friend gently.

"Thank you for reminding me," Bucky chuckled. "Hey, something's wrong, I can see," he furrowed his brow at the sight of his friend's absent eyes and a worried wrinkle on his forehead.

"It's nothing," Buck refused to whine about not seeing you this morning. Perhaps you were busy and he didn't want to admit how clingy he was becoming.

"Come on," Bucky teased.

"I haven't seen (Y/N) this morning. It's nothing, she's probably busy," Buck admitted and sighed, waiting for his friend to laugh at him. However, Bucky didn't even flinch. He swallowed thickly and cleared his throat like there was something he wanted to say but didn't know how to. "What is it?"

"Well, I've seen her this morning," Bucky whispered and Buck leaned in, intrigued. "She was here, at the sickbay."

"What? Is she sick?" Buck felt his heart speeding up inside his chest. Even if it was just a cold, he didn't want you to feel bad. He hated to see you in any kind of pain.

"I don't know, we didn't talk. She looked weird, though," Bucky admitted. "But it didn't look very serious. I just thought you should know," he shrugged his arms.

"Thanks," Buck stood up and patted his friend's shoulder before turning around to leave the sickbay as soon as possible. He wanted to find you and make sure you were alright even if it would take half a day and cost him a scolding from the Colonel.

On his way out, he spotted two nurses whispering between each other about something but they went quiet when they saw him. However, when he walked out of the sickbay, they went back to gossiping, not realizing that he was still behind the door and could hear them perfectly well.

"She can't hide it forever," one of them whispered. "Jesus, what was she even thinking? She got herself in huge trouble."

"I can't imagine it ending well for her. Unless she got pregnant by the Colonel. Then she's probably safe," the other one nodded. "Who do you think she got pregnant by?"

"Probably him," the first one sighed.

"Colonel?"

"Yeah, she's at his office all the time. Helping with the papers, she says. Mhm, sure. That's what they call it these days."

"It can be one of the pilots, too," the second one was not convinced.

"Please, we're talking about (Y/N) here. She wouldn't go lower than a Major and there aren't any I've seen her with. She has standards, you've seen her. She's so full of herself," the first one laughed.

"You're mean."

"Well, she's a slut."

Buck's eyes widened as his heart skipped a beat. He fought the urge to go back to the sickbay and yell at the rude nurse but he decided to find you as soon as possible instead. He didn't even want to overthink the subject of their gossip. He hoped it was just a gossip and nothing else. Because if it was real… The consequences would be tragic.

He also didn't like what these two women were saying about your realtionship with the Colonel.

Still, the first place he decided to look for you in was Colonel's office. you were spending there almost every day after all... He waited by the corner nervously, thinking of some excuse to make before entering the room but he saw the Colonel leaving the office and addressing you before doing so. Then he disappeared in the corridor and Buck emerged from behind the corner to knock upon the door.

"Come in," he heard your oddly weak voice and he entered the room as fast as possible to close the door behind himself swiftly. "Oh, that's you," your voice sounded tired and raspy. Buck squeezed his eyes and observed you for a while.

You were sitting behind Colonel's desk and working on some papers. Your skin seemed to be a shade paler, you had dark bags under your eyes and your hair was not as neatly combed as usual. Yor fingers were shaking and you didn't even look up at him with your usual smile and bright eyes.

"What's wrong? I've heard you were sick," Buck approached you but you refused to look up. "You don't look well. You shouldn't be working. What is it?"

"Stomach bug. Nothing… It's nothing," your lower lips trembled as you sniffled. "I was throwing up this morning."

"And that's it?" Buck was not convinced.

"That's it," you insited, still refusing to look up.

"I was at the sickbay to visit Bucky. I've overheard two nurses saying very bad things about you," he confessed as his jaw clenched at the memory. That finally made you look up with wet, scared eyed.

"What are you talking about?" your voice trembled.

"That you don't go lower than a Major and you seem to be close with the Colonel," he said way harsher than he intended to.

In fact, he didn't want to say this at all but the nasty feeling of ugly jealousy made his veins burn from the inside as his hands flexed to clench his fists for a second before relaxing them all over again.

God, what was happening to him? He was getting dizzy from all of this. He knew he was in love with you but today's events were just too much to handle and it was before 10am.

"Sounds like I have a reputation of a harlot around here then. I'm sorry that you believe those lies more than you believe me me when I tell you that I love you," you whispered as your lower lip shivered.

"God, I'm sorry, doll. I shouldn't have…" Buck leaned in but you turned your face around. "I'm sorry, I was stupid… I was so jealous… They said you were pregnant with the Colonel… It's so absurd, I should have known better, I'm sorry…" he touched your shoulder and felt your whole body stiffening.

"Well, they were not entirely wrong…" you whispered almost inaudibly and Buck's heart stopped for a moment as his head got dizzy. What did you mean…? You and the Colonel…?

"I'm gonna kill him," he drawled out and stood up with his fists ready to start a fight. You looked up at him like he was crazy.

"What are you on about? Kill who?" you sniffed your tears back.

"Harding. I don't give a damn he's the Colonel," Buck's jaw clenched and your eyes widened. You had never seen him acting like that.

"Baby, you do realize I didn't mean this part of the gossip to be true, right?" you almost smiled despite the tragic situation you had found yourself in.

"What did you mean then?!" Buck nearly lost it. His nerves were a wreck and you weren't helping much.

"I'm pregnant!" you screamed at him and stood up angrily before getting a little dizzy. He stood there with his mouth slightly opened as you finally caught your breath back. "…and it's not with the goddamn Colonel, for God's sake, Buck. You really think of me so low? That I whore around the base? Thank you very much. Exactly what I wanted to hear from the father of my baby," your eyes filled with tears again.

Buck felt like the the stupidest man on the planet Earth at that moment. He swallowed thickly and looked at you with eyes so full of guilt that he reminded you of a lost puppy.

"I'm sorry, baby. I was jealous and it was awfully stupid of me. Of course I don't think that. You're my girl," he reached out his hand to touch you but you moved away and approached the window to look behind it.

"We shouldn't have done that…" you looked down. "Maybe it's true. I am a whore. Because I shouldn't have done that. Even with you."

Buck felt extremely guilty for the whole situation happening. He was standing there, speechless. Trying to find the right words to make it right.

"And I wish I was happy about it. Because I love you and… And under any other circumstances I would love that little baby," you sobbed. "But this is war. I hope you know I wouldn't sleep with you like that if it wasn't for the fact you can die any day… I would wait for the wedding. I hope you know that. I'm so scared, Buck," you turned around to face him. He looked so broken inside that it made you sob even more. "I'm scared of what they'll do when they find out. And I'm scared you might die tomorrow or any other day. And I'll be alone with this mess. Maybe I should… You know…"

"No," he finally spoke up and approached you to grab your hands. This time you allowed him to. "No, you can't do that to our baby. No," he insisted.

You smiled softly when you realized he already cared about your child.

"And I won't let anything happen to you. I'll speak to the Colonel. I think you should just…" he sighed, "…well, go back home."

"No…!" this time you were the one who protested while shaking your head.

"For now, yes," Buck put his hands on your shoulders. "You shouldn't work here. You shouldn't work at all. You should go back to your family and rest. And after my 25 missions I'll come to you. I'll speak to the Colonel, I'll explain it to him carefully. He'll understand."

"What if you don't come to me?" you looked up as a few more tears rolled down your cheeks.

"If I go down and end up in hell, I'm going to crawl out of there on my knees to get back to you," he promised and laid his right hand on your belly. You looked at him lovingly after this confession and finally smiled with a silly smile.

"Wow. Well, if you ended up in hell, I'd quite understand you not coming back to me. No need to be so extra," you tried to make a joke.

"There is absolutely a need to be," Buck leaned in even closer to press his forehead to yours.

That was when the door opened loudly and you two turned around to see Colonel Harding who looked like he had just spotted a ghost.

"What the hell is going on in here?!" he yelled, making you startle a little but Buck's warm hands calmed you down.

"Colonel, we have to talk about something very important," Buck told him with a very serious expression on his face.

And suddenly you felt that everything would be alright because Buck would handle that. He wouldn't let anything bad happen to you or the baby. He would take care of you.

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST