#also if you know what face that last tile is making i will become your best friend

[koocycle]

screw up; over wine | drabble i.

synopsis; jungkook wants to make your first date special and unlike any other night you’ve had before. while determined to win your heart over with a fancy, romantic dinner that includes sweet, tasty chardonnay and medium rare steaks, not everything goes according to his plan.

pairing; boyfriend! jungkook x model! female reader

word count; 4.1k

genre; fluff, baby angst probably

warnings; none

timeline; this drabble is set 7 years ago, at the very start of the over wine couple’s relationship where jungkook is a finance major and oc is still active in the modelling industry. they’re both in their early 20s here!

author’s note; a thank you drabble for all the support and encouragement i’ve been receiving the past two weeks!! also a lil drabble for the people who aren’t a fan of angst and still punched through that 38k last chapter :) enjoy this little tidbit of the start their relationship before it all became messy and went downhill

series masterlist | over wine universe

The sound of the lively chatter at the tables surrounding you had gone over your head before. The clinking of cutlery amplifies and bubbles of laughter fill the air the moment Jungkook excuses himself to the bathroom and all of a sudden, you watch yourself become a nerve-wrecking mess, unsure what to do the minute you’re left alone and forced to listen to the couples at the tables on your sides. You can feel their eyes on you, noticing the way they keep glancing at you with some sort of pity in their eyes. The bustling restaurant suddenly feels much more crowded and you can’t help but feel exposed with him now gone, the bill at your table staring back at you like it tells you everything Jungkook didn’t have the balls to say. 

It’s only when the waitress comes back a second time around when you finally search your handbag for your card and hand it to her, plastering a smile on your face that is supposed to copy the one you were previously wearing. You could tell she was getting impatient before, her hair tied into a bun so slick, you were sure she was unable to move the brows at her forehead. 

She’s been eyeing you and Jungkook ever since you came in and sat down, it was hard not to notice, seeing the way her lips pursed as she tongued the front of her teeth when Jungkook ordered you the most expensive Chardonnay on the menu. And at the end, when he left for the bathroom about five seconds after he read the price at the bottom of the receipt, you could swear you saw a vein pop at her forehead. It was funny back then. Though now that he’s been gone for nearly ten minutes, each and every bit of humor has left your body just like you watched it happen to that woman before. The inkling feeling at your chest enlarges each time somebody locks eyes with you and shares that sorrowful, pitiful smile, and you lose it.

You had a good time tonight, that much you can’t deny, and you refuse to be pitied. Especg not by a bunch of strangers. You know everyone at the restaurant had seen it at this point. Seen the way Jungkook had leaned over the table with crossed arms supporting him while that charming, boyish smile painted his face, resulting in a flush to your cheeks as you tried to hide it and blame it on the wine that must have gotten to your head. You felt luckier than anyone else in the room only half an hour ago, where you thought the dates around you couldn’t compare. Like they couldn’t have gotten better than yours by the end of the night.

Yes, embarrassment fills your chest when the waitress hands you back your card and flashes you a knowing smile. However, you refuse to let it bring you down. Humiliation draws over you as you stand up from your seat and make your way over to the corner Jungkook disappeared behind, each step of your stiletto heels to the restaurant’s floor tiles accentuating the flow of your mini dress against your ass. You know eyes are on you, but you ignore it and keep your head high. If you had driven here yourself, you probably would have let the guy rot in the men’s restroom until they had found him, though for now, you still need him for that twenty-minute ride back home.

And it’s not like you mind paying for tonight’s dinner. As a matter of fact, if Jungkook had simply asked you to cover the bill, you know you would’ve reached out for your wallet without a second thought. He made you feel at ease from the start on; ensuring your beef was cooked to perfection, sitting you down on the booth while he did so on the chair. Even double checking whether or not your glass of Chardonnay was sweet enough to your liking, if you needed another napkin at your neck so you wouldn’t stain that pretty little dress, and if you weren’t getting cold right beneath that airconditioning screwed to the ceiling–ready to run back to the car to get your jack from the backseat.

That’s right, you wouldn’t have minded, because Jungkook has been perfect all night. And no matter how many times you thought to yourself “God damn, you’re having a blast and so is he,” you wouldn’t have minded if at the end of the night he’d be like, “hey, this probably isn’t working out and we should never do this again.” Because, sure, then it is what it is. But at least you’ve got more class than him if you think it’s a shitty thing to hide in the men’s restroom the moment the bill is served instead of growing a pair and telling you exactly that in your face.

‘‘Hyung, please, I need you right now.’’ It is the first thing you hear once you round the corner and you come face to face with his back, his phone is held to his ear and it appears his fingers are pinching the bridge at his nose. ‘‘It’s just that I’m really into this girl, and I can swear she feels the same way. I can’t afford fucking it up now. I promise I’ll pay you back by the end of the month, okay?’’

It stings more than you’d like to admit. You lean against the wall, crossing your arms over your chest as you try to process the situation. Part of you wants to confront him right there, tell him the bill has been taken care of and ask him why he brought you here if he knew he couldn’t even pay for it. He could at least tell you to stay within a reasonable budget, where the wine bottle didn’t have to cost 400 bucks and each additional sauce wouldn’t have to cost another 15 on top.

Would he be scared you’d judge him if he brought you some place else?

‘‘I know, I know,’’ he mumbles into his phone, throwing his head back. ‘‘I didn’t want to bring her somewhere downtown and disappoint her, that’s all. How was I supposed to know the prices were that high if they don’t write it down the menu?’’

You have to bite your lip to hold the laughter from escaping. It’s cute, the way he thinks, because the moment you’d see a menu without its prices mentioned, one thing most people would do is run out the building before they charge you for the lukewarm water that’s already served on the table. You can’t help but find his reasoning cute and endearing, his sincerity shining through and you can tell he truly wanted to make tonight special for you. The fact that he was worried about disappointing you speaks volumes about how much he cares. Although, next time around, you’d find him a little cuter if he were honest with you. You really wouldn’t think much less of him if he asked you to pay the bill.

‘‘Thanks, hyung. So much.’’ He breathes out, and you can only figure the person on the other end of the line is transferring the money to his bank account as you stand there. ‘‘I’m dodging a bullet here.’’

It is only when he hangs up the phone that he turns around, halting in his tracks at the sight of you standing there. With his phone still in hand, Min Yoongi’s contact number still displayed on the screen, his expression changes from shock to worry as he sees you standing there, arms folded over another as you’re leaned up against the wall.

‘‘Hi.’’ You smile.

And you have the prettiest smile. Even though it’s closed lipped and seems a little ironic, he thinks you own the most beautiful smile in the room. ‘‘Hey,’’ he says, his eyes faltering even though he’s quick to cover up. Sauntering over, he places a hand at your hip to guide you the other way, over to the cashier. ‘‘I’m sorry that took so long, you know how moms can be.’’ He snickers quietly, ‘‘you’re already two years into college and she still calls every night to ask if you’ve eaten.’’

You stand there, amused by his poor attempt to brush off the situation, His hand on your hip feels warm, and you find yourself swayed by his touch. ‘‘Oh, I see,’’ You play along, unable to suppress the playful glint in your eyes. ‘‘So it was your mom who kept you on the phone for so long? For a hot minute I thought you were bailing on me back here.’’

Jungkook laughs softly, shaking his head. ‘‘With the way you look tonight? I’d be crazy to.’’ His eyes linger on you, shamelessly sneaking down your figure in a long, exposed glance, appreciating the white mini dress that cuts right beneath your ass, accentuating your every curve. He doesn’t even try to hide the boyish grin that works its way up his lips, the hand at your hip instead traveling to the small of your back.

Your cheeks flush a little at the compliment, and you turn to face him completely, a flat hand to his chest. ‘‘Smooth talker,’’ you tease, head tilting sweetly as a rush of warmth flows through you.

He grins, his eyes sparkling mischievously. ‘‘Just speaking the truth,’’ he replies, loving the way your eyes grow so big the moment he holds you close and you start looking up at him. He is still running his hand at your back in small circles as he subtly pulls you closer to him, loving the way you just let him. ‘‘Let’s take care of the bill and get you home safely. Are we all set?’’

You nod cutely, ‘‘I am,’’ you say, and Jungkook guides you around by the waist, his free hand digging into the back pocket of his dress pants before you interrupt him, intertwining your arm with his as you lead the both of you out the door instead. ‘‘And I already took care of it.’’ You teasingly whisper in his ear, the smile that you wear on your face undeniable.

Jungkook’s grin falters, halting in his tracks once you’re outside. His brows furrowed together, clearly taken aback. ‘‘Wait, you paid?’’ He asks softly, seeming a little deflated even as you stand before him with that pretty smile on your face. He usually can’t resist to bring one out himself when your lips break into one, though it comes a little more difficult this time. ‘‘You know you didn’t have to do that, right? I had everything planned out,’’ his hands come to cup your cheeks. ‘‘It was me who asked you out. That means that I’m supposed to treat you tonight.’’

You can see the sincerity in his eyes, and your heart softens at the genuine concern. It is only for a moment that you consider telling him you overheard his phone call with his roommate, and no matter how comfortable Jungkook made you feel tonight alone, you remember it’s only your first date, and you’d hate for things to get sappy so quickly. ‘‘Well, you basically left me all alone with that piece of paper. How could I control myself?’’ It’s supposed to be a lighthearted joke, he can see it in the way you smile at him, but he can’t help but think there’s some truth to it. ‘‘Come on, bring me home,’’ even with the heels you’re wearing, you have to stand on your tippy toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. ‘‘These heels aren’t doing me justice anymore.’’

Jungkook chuckles softly, the tension not yet easing between you even as you drag him to the car by intertwining your hands together. As he opens the door for you to get in, he can’t help but feel like he’s somehow failed today’s date. Looking back at how it must’ve looked like when he ran off to call Min Yoongi for help like he’s still in highschool with a silly little school crush, he feels a pang of embarrassment at the thought of appearing so immature and unprepared in front of you. He wanted everything to be perfect, bring you someplace nice to impress you and show you he could treat you well. Instead, he just looks like a little boy who tried to trick you into paying for the first date.

Even as Jungkook is seated in the drivers’ seat and takes the route back to your home, he turns up the volume of the radio, hoping to drown out the disappointment in himself. He definitely screwed up tonight. He doesn’t even know if he wants you to say something to him; he just knows that you don’t, but the glances you keep sneaking his way for the entire ride back home are enough to make him feel even worse. You can see that something is bothering him, that his playful, flirtatious vibe from before has shifted and is now replaced with something you can’t decipher.

You start to wonder if it’s something you said. Wonder if he’s now getting cold feet and suddenly realizes maybe he didn’t enjoy himself as much as you thought. He hadn’t given you any reason to think like that, though. Not after how sweet he was tonight, not after the way you heard him talk about you over the phone with his friend.

As the car pulls up in front of your place, Jungkook turns off the engine, the radio cutting off as the silence envelopes both of you again. The clicking sound of your seatbelt comes fast and you glance over at him again, finding him already looking at you with a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

He gets out and walks you to the door after that, his hands hidden in the pockets of his pants as he doesn’t care to spare you another glance. The shift in energy is obvious between the both of you, not a single soul out on the street at this hour of the day to distract you from the uneasy silence. Your stiletto heels click against the pavement and you have to bite your bottom lip to make the short but uncomfortable way back a little more bearable.

At the end of a date comes a kiss. It’s how it happens in all the romcoms you watch–it happens in all the chick flicks and all the Disney short movies. But this is no Stephanie Perkins love story, not with the way you’re standing there, hugging your arms as the chilly breeze crosses your skin.

‘‘I guess this is where we split ways, right?’’ You finally break the silence, your voice tinged with uncertainty. You don’t want the night to end on such an awkward note, but the tension between you is undeniable.

Jungkook’s gaze softens, and he takes a step closer to you, the distance between your bodies diminishing. ‘‘I had a great time tonight,’’ he admits, his voice gentle as he reaches to unfold your arms, fingertips grazing over them before they get to your soft hands and intertwines them with his own. ‘‘And I really want to see you again,’’ he says quietly, thumbs rubbing over your knuckles. ‘‘You know, if that’s okay with you.’’

You have to tongue the front of your teeth in an attempt to hide that broad smile that’s tugging at the edges of your lips. ‘‘Yeah, I’d like that.’’ You say, and you can feel your heart race against your chest only with the way he’s looking down at you.

‘‘And I’ll be transferring the money right back to your account first thing back home, alright?’’

‘‘Oh,’’ you raise an eyebrow in surprise, not expecting him to bring up the topic of money again. ‘‘Really, that’s okay. I don’t mind having to spend a little. And it doesn’t really matter in the end, does it? We enjoyed ourselves tonight, and that’s probably what’s most important.’’

‘‘It is what’s most important,’’ he agrees with a boyish smile, heavy lidded eyes staring back at you. ‘‘But it was me who asked you to join me for dinner. Therefore it was my responsibility to treat you, you know? To make sure you had a good time, and to guarantee the bill was taken care of and nowhere within your reach.’’ Jungkook says, one hand held against his chest as he tilts his head in the most charming way you can think of. ‘‘That was my mistake. But I won’t be able to go to bed with a good feeling knowing you paid for all that. We didn’t dine at McDonald’s, you know?’’

You can’t help but let out a soft chuckle at his playful reference, because he’s right. There was a lot more on that receipt than two cheeseburgers and fries on the side. Jungkook took you out to wine and dine; told you beforehand to wear the prettiest dress you own and he spared no expense to make sure the evening was special. It was clear he wanted to impress you, even if you hadn’t overheard his phone call.

Your hands caress his chest until they reach to play with the collar of his blouse, as if to fix it. ‘‘Then maybe it’s time we pick out some place that’s a little more affordable, don’t you think?’’ You’re not nagging at him, your voice is gentle, indirectly telling him he doesn’t need to spend money on you that he doesn’t have. ‘‘You know I’d be fine with a pizza and a soda, right?’’

The feeling of your fingertips tickling at his neck makes him bite his lip, your arms leaning on his broad shoulders for support. ‘‘You know I can’t take you out for pizza.’’

You smile, enjoying the closeness between you when his own hands fall to your hips. Tugging you closer, just slightly. ‘‘Why not?’’ You tease, unable to keep that toothy smile off your face. ‘‘I bet we could have just as much fun sharing a pizza as we did tonight.’’

‘‘We would,’’ Jungkook’s eyes meet yours, and he looks a little torn. ‘‘But you’re special,’’ his lips curl into a small smile when the words leave him, watching as you throw your head back a little in surprise, the warmth rising to your cheeks not gone unnoticed. ‘‘And I don’t know… it’s probably just something you do, but you make me want to give you all the things you’ve never been given before, all right?’’

He’s speaking from the heart, and the longer he looks into those eyes of yours, the more this lovestruck feeling intensifies in the deepest pits of his chest. Because it’s true; Jeon Jungkook is smitten. You pick up his FaceTime calls in the middle of the night wearing silken, champagne pink Chanel pajamas, you carry your Miss Dior perfumes in the side pockets of your Armani handbags and your agent takes you out to fine dinings at least once a month–you’re handed all those luxury items by all sorts of brands trying to get a sponsor out of you because, they as well, know you’re something else. Something big.

You stand before him in a dress he doesn’t even want to know the price of, and instead just wants to admire you. How was he ever going to step up his game and give you things you haven’t seen before? Sure, perhaps Jungkook was a little starstruck the moment the price at the end of the bill caught his eye, but when it came to you, it was worth it. He doesn’t make that kind of money yet, but he will, and when he receives his degree and finally does that, then yes, he wants to spoil you rotten. You deserve it all.

Your heart skips a beat at his words, touched by his genuine sentiment. ‘‘Jungkook,’’ you begin softly, your voice tinged with emotion. ‘‘I had a blast tonight, I really did, and I appreciate you so much for the effort you put in the entire evening. But I really hope you didn’t do all of this with the idea I would like you any less if it indeed was just a burger and some fries from McDonald’s.’’

Jungkook’s eyes soften. ‘‘No, that’s not it at all,’’ he assures you, his voice gentle and sincere. ‘‘I wanted to show you a good time, to make you smile.’’

‘‘I smiled all the way to the end of the night,’’ you sing-song, leaning into his touch when you cup his cheeks. ‘‘So no S.O.S phone calls with Min Yoongi at the end of our next date night?’’

He blinks slowly, shifting his gaze downward as a nervous chuckle escapes his lips. ‘‘You overheard my phone call,’’ you watch as the embarrassment overtakes him and you think it’s rather cute how he tries to hide his face from you, the sight of your feet suddenly so much more interesting. ‘‘Isn’t that great.’’ He mumbles, wincing on the inside.

‘‘I did. And there’s nothing to be embarrassed of.’’ You tilt his head back up, forcing him to lock eyes. ‘‘I actually think it’s kind of cute you wanted to impress me. Am I really that intimidating?’’

Jungkook’s cheeks warm, and he can’t help but let out a laugh at your teasing. His thumbs start caressing the material at the small of your back, leaving you a little weak in the knees. ‘‘Intimidating isn’t the right word,’’ he admits, pursing his lips like he’s thinking hard. ‘‘I’d say you’re frightening. And not in a good way, either. Rather like one of those Disney villains that would keep you awake as a kid, you know?’’ He smirks cutely, playfully nudging at your side and causing you to squirm at his arms. ‘‘Ursula or something. You look just like her, the big eyes and the crazy hair and all.’’

‘‘Do I now?’’ You arch a single brow, amusement crippling at your lips.

He hums, tugging you close to him until your bodies are pressed together and you can feel his warmth radiating through his clothes. ‘‘Like two beads of water.’’ He says a little softer now, his breath fanning against your lips as he reaches out to gently brush a loose strand of hair away from your face.

The space between you seems to shrink, the world around you fading into oblivion the more you’re drawn into him. ‘‘You wouldn’t look at me as if you want to kiss me if that were true.’’

Jungkook’s breath catches at your words, and he can’t deny the truth in them. The teasing glint in your eyes sends a jolt of excitement through him, making him want to prove you wrong. His fingers gently trail along your jawline, a feather-light touch that sends shivers down your spine.

‘‘Oh, really?’’ He retorts playfully, his voice low and husky. ‘‘And what if I do want to kiss you?’’ His gaze intensifies, holding you captive as he leans closer, his lips almost brushing against yours. The air cackles with anticipation, and time seems to slow down as the world around you fades away.

Your heart pounds in your chest, matching the rhythm of his as he hovers so close. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, and it sends a rush of desire through you. Your fingers instinctively find their way to his chest, the anticipation building between you both.

‘‘Do it and find out.’’

He doesn’t hesitate. You’ve given him the green light and with a surge of boldness running through him, he closes the distance between you, and his lips capture yours in a tender, passionate kiss. It’s a perfect collision of desire, a moment that feels like it was meant to be.

You place a hand to his chest, able to feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. With your fingers slightly curling at the nape of his neck, arm leaning on his shoulder, you dare to pull him closer to you as he copies your body language not much longer after. He pulls you by the small of your back to make sure it curves and you’re pressed chest to chest. Your breaths mingle, lips eagerly brushing against each other as the kiss deepens and you feel a tingling warmth spreading through your body. His touch is tender and possessive, as if he doesn’t want to let you go. Your other hand finds its way to his cheek, caressing it with a soft, adoring touch. It’s a silent reassurance that this is right, that you want this as much as he does.

Time seems to lose all meaning when his lips lingers on yours, it seems like. You’re lost in him, just like how he is lost in you. And when you eventually pull away, your foreheads rest against each other, you both share a soft, contented sigh. Your eyes meet, and a knowing smile passes between you.

‘‘Let’s save the rest for our second date, yeah?’’

Your heart is still racing, and his touch leaves your body feeling electric. You can see the desire in his eyes as gazes down at you, and with a gentle caress at his cheek, you nod in agreement, a playful glint in your eyes.

‘‘Definitely,’’ you whisper, your voice breathless.

As you part ways, you fumble with your keys at the door as Jungkook makes his way back to his car. A sense of contentment washes over you, knowing you’ve found someone who makes your heart race and your soul soar.

And as you steal a glance from over your shoulder only one last time for tonight, you find him doing the same thing at the exact same moment. Your eyes meet, and you cutely avert your eyes back forward the moment it happens, missing the way he bites his bottom lip to hold back a cheeky grin, shaking his head in amusement.

You’re truly one of a kind.

[madelynraemunson]

CASUAL part 2

see part one here.

modern!incel!asshole! eddie x fem!reader

It’s 7 in the morning. Eddie is seen doom-pacing in the halls of Hawkins High.

a/n: i promised y’all part 2 so here ya go. let’s make him pay. 💋 also shout out to @love-anonymous-writer for bringing this universe to life. a little angst here and there is good for the soul <3

who got the last laugh?

[WC: 1.1k words]

“Please respond…please respond…please respond…”

The soles of Eddie’s shoes slam against the tiles of Hawkins High as he rushes to your locker. Meanwhile his entire soul has left his body.

You didn’t answer any of his phone calls. All the texts he sent you were left on read. Having been so accustomed to your instant replies, Eddie essentially catapulted himself into a full-blown panic last night when he saw the ominous text you sent him...and the nothingness from you that followed soon after.

The crickets of Forrest Hills that taunted his eardrums later that night served as a vengeful metaphor of the brick wall you built between you and him. The girl who once gave him everything has now started giving him nothing. You’re nowhere, but everywhere. It’s like you’ve become a ghost.

When he sees you, color drains from Eddie’s guilty face. You look so beautiful today, hair curled down to the small of your back, a nice simple dress and some slippers, with makeup ever so gracefully applied. A class act, even when plagued with the utmost disrespect.

“Hi," he says to you as he approaches.

“Hi.”

As far as Munson knows, he no longer exists to you. He's a shadow now, a carapace of a boy you used to love 'cuz now — after hearing what you heard in his trailer — you know he's not the same boy that made you feel all the butterflies. That boy is long gone. You even start to wonder if that version of Eddie even existed.

“C-can we talk, please?” he requests.

“What’s to talk about?” you challenge him, stoically. “Don’t wanna annoy you with my rambling.”

“You never annoy me…” he attempts as you mindlessly comb through your locker for your homeroom notebook.

“Mm.”

You were casual about it. Too casual about it.

“You… uh…” he clears his throat. “You made me cookies yesterday?”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I was at your door for quite a while so you must’ve been busy. Cookies were taken care of though.”

“I see…” Eddie mutters as the pieces all start coming together.

He thinks about how he always leaves his windows cracked open. His uncle would whoop his ass if he hot-boxed the trailer again, so it became a habit. But the trailer park is small, and on certain afternoon, if someone from a nearby unit had dropped a pin, Eddie would hear it. Suddenly, fear arises in him.

Surely, you didn't hear everything he and The Boys™️ said. He had his headphones on and he couldn't have possibly been that loud, could he? Unless technology failed him again.

The warning bell sounds throughout the halls and you excuse yourself from the narrative. Eddie tags after you like a lost puppy, nearly tripping on his shoelaces along the way.

"W-wait!"

The first class of the morning is homeroom. A class you unfortunately shared with Eddie, Grant, and Harmony.

You didn't want to see any of their faces. Eddie's face would serve as a reminder of how fake and construed the fucker is. Grant's would remind you of how insignificant you were to the guys (despite how welcomed they made you feel at the start). And Harmony. Harmony's beautiful face — with a body far too developed for a girl in her grade to match — would only remind you of the fact that the girl didn't inherently do anything to you... other than be beautiful and get caught in the crossfire of horny, greasy teenage boys.

It’s a fucking mess.

You swallow hard and keep your chin up regardless. Because what other choice do you have? You either feign your confidence or let irrelevant boys crush it.

You continue strutting over to your seat as Eddie trails behind at a measurable distance. Along the way, you inevitably run into the Junior Queen of Hawkins High herself, Harmony Heathers.

Harmony issues you a sweet smile. You smile back at her in return. And you didn't even need to turn your back to know that Eddie most likely did a double-take when sliding past her.

The late bell rings, indicating the start of class.

“Okay,” your homeroom teacher Mrs. Helleck exhales as she clasps her hands together. “Good morning everybody. For Red Ribbon Week this week, we’re gonna be doing a group project. Worth 20-percent of your grade.”

The class erupts in agonistic groans while Mrs. Helleck attempts to calm them down. You feel Eddie’s gaze burn into you, indicative to the fact that he was looking forward to using you again like he always seems to do. This time around it would be for a grade instead of a two-pump fuck. But you had something else in mind.

“You will be doing a presentation,” Helleck continues. “With a partner of your choice. Your job is to create a slogan along with a list of reasons why you should stay away from drugs.”

“Drugs Instead of Hugs,” Grant mutters to Eddie.

The general vicinity collectively praises his lukewarm wannabe 4-Chan edged joke.

You roll your eyes while your poor homeroom teacher tries to proceed with her instructions, despite the immature snickers.

“You will be presenting with your partner on Friday. Do not wait until last minute to do this assignment please. Deadlines catch up to you fast.”

Mrs. Helleck makes her way over to you.

Like Dungeons and Dragons, everyone in the class is assigned a “classroom role”. You’re the leader of the pack, the ‘foreman’, to which you never understood because up until today you never had the confidence to call the shots. The alphabet has never been on your side anyways.

“Now dear,” your teacher smiles down at you. “Since your last name starts with an A, you get first choice. Who would you like to work with?”

Eddie’s gaze is extra fixated on you now. It gives you a greater deal of satisfaction than tossing those cookies ever did. It was you who had the reigns now, instead of those woman-patronizing incels.

You start to smile connivingly, to which the guys start to gulp over. You can tell they’re putting two and two together, their two brain cells collectively working over time to discover that you had a delicious upper-cut up your sleeve.

It’s the very least they can do. If they wanted to taint your name to smithereens in your absence, you’re sure as hell going to give them something else to lose their minds about in Math 3.

And when all eyes are fixated on you, you tilt your chin up to project your voice. You want to make sure everyone, especially Grant and Eddie, hear you loud and clear when you sinisterly announce,

“I pick Harmony.”

tag list: @damp4eddie @eddiesguitarskills @babygirl229 @love-anonymous-writer @ziggeddie @socially-awkward-eliza @shesahellfirebabe @ali-r3n @yourdailymemedelivery @mincloud @jupitersnights @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @whisperingtales @fearlessreid @emma-munson

divider by: @benkeibear

[akataiii]

Go ahead and try (A Hawks x reader)

“It'd be so easy, you know?”

Tearing my eyes from the ballroom floor and casting my gaze to the right, I'm met by the sight of a smug-looking Kiki; a short woman with curly, purple hair and a pair of white dove wings residing on her back. She is also known as one of Hawks' most trusted sidekicks.

I turn my body so I'm facing her fully, readjusting my grip on the glass of champagne in my hand. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, tilting my head at her and quirking a puzzled brow.

“I'm sorry?” I ask, voice portraying the confusion I was feeling.

Kiki huffs, bringing her own glass of champagne to her lips and taking a languid sip while shifting her attention to the opposite side of the room. I follow her gaze, finding what, or rather, who she is staring at.

Hawks' pretty, red wings are unmistakable; standing out in the crowd and demanding immediate attention, almost as if screaming, ‘Look at me!’ And I did look. I always looked at my boyfriend.

I looked at how he gave his best every day, striving to be an amazing hero and somehow managing to muster up enough positive energy to make up for my lack of daily optimism.

Me and Keigo were pretty much two opposite ends of a coin, and yet we somehow worked together perfectly, making up that coin in perfect harmony each and every day.

“What I meant was,” Kiki starts, drawing my focus back to her, where she's taking another sip of her champagne. “It would be easy for me to steal Hawks from you,” she finishes, turning to look at me with a smug smirk.

I blink at her, momentarily stunned. Well, that came out of nowhere, I think to myself, (e/c) eyes widened in surprise. It doesn't take long for me to get over the initial shock though, instead letting out an amused huff before folding my arms across my chest, careful not to spill my champagne. 

“Well then,” I say, letting my features fall into a relaxed and unbothered expression. “By all means, have at it. Try your best,” I prompt, trying my best to suppress my laughter at the astonished look Kiki sends my way. 

“Seriously? Just like that?” She questions, looking slightly disappointed at not receiving any kind of negative reaction from me. “You're just going to give him up?”

I shrug, bringing my glass of champagne to my lips and looking over at Keigo’s bright, red wings again. “I don't see how it's necessary for me to put up a fight,” I reply, a faint smile grazing my lips as I catch Keigo laughing at something Mirko said.

“You have no respect for your relationship,” is the last thing I hear Kiki say before her heels are clacking loudly against the tiled floor, and she's marching away from me.

Nope, I think to myself, feeling smug and self-assured at my own thoughts. I just have that much faith in my boyfriend.

—

I stretch my arms above my head, hastily bringing one hand back down to stifle the yawn that slips past my lips. The cement of the sidewalk feels hard under my feet as I walk back towards me and Keigo's apartment, returning from the day at my boring, mundane, civilian job. 

I don't regret my choice of not becoming a hero. The whole flashy, saving people lifestyle just never suited me, and I was perfectly alright with that. Even if my job was mundane and void of any flashiness, it never failed to fill me with a sense of joy. 

How could I ever hate the flower shop I worked at when it's where I met my lovely boyfriend? I still remember the day Keigo came in, fresh on the job, and picking up the flower order for the grand opening of his hero agency.

Even if our relationship was rocky at first, filled with countless bickering and endless antagonizing (all from my end, oopsie), we ended up together and in love anyway, and I could never be happier than when I was by his side.

Of course, life is never that simple, and neither are relationships, especially that of a pro-hero. Keigo was never allowed to let the public know about himself, always forced by the Hero Public Safety Commission to hide behind the Hawks exterior they curated for him.

A select few people did know about our relationship, though. Mostly the heroes Keigo worked alongside and the sidekicks at his agency.

Which is where Kiki comes in.

It's been a week since her random confession to me at the Hero Gala me and Keigo attended. It didn't bother me; instead, I was only curious to see if Kiki would actually carry through her plan of 'stealing Hawks from me.’

Thoughts of how I could possibly ask my boyfriend about it swirl around in my mind as I continue my trip home. My feet hit the pavement in a rhythmic pattern, lulling me into a state where I was only half paying attention to the world around me. Suddenly, the red feather around my neck gives a violent jerk to the right, almost knocking me off my balance.

I stumble on the cement below me, regaining my footing before glaring down at the feather in confusion and irritation. It had settled back down and was resting innocently against the skin of my collarbone, like it didn't just almost choke me half to death.

Knowing it had a mind of its own and was likely trying to show me something, I shift my gaze to the right, the direction in which the feather jerked in. Immediately, my eyes latch onto the two red wings on the opposite side of the road.

Keigo stands talking to Kiki, hands raised in surrender and seemingly waving away something she's saying.

What a pleasant surprise, I think to myself, moving to lean against the nearest lamp pole. My arms are folded comfortably across my chest as I watch whatever situation is currently playing out in front of me.

I watch as Kiki says something else to Keigo, her lips curled into a wide, mischievous grin as her finger lightly pokes his chest.

Kiki is Hawks' most trusted ally, always going with him on patrol and assisting him on missions. Anyone with functioning eyes could see that they were close, and the media even went into its usual conspiracy theories that the two might be dating.

Keigo, polite as always, denies the accusations every time, waving them away with his usual smile and saying nothing other than, ‘She’s a great sidekick. Nothing more.’

I was never the jealous type and never would be. Hawks may be some flirty, charming hero persona created by the HPSC to be shown to the public, but in private, Keigo was happy to just be. While he was still a flirty and charismatic person in general, when he got off the clock and came home, he was free to do whatever he wanted.

I smile to myself, thinking of all the nights the blonde came home and immediately attacked me with a flurry of chirps and kisses, letting his suppressed bird instincts free. I would always dissolve into a fit of giggles when he twittered and chirped in my ear, telling me how much he loves me and how much he missed me that day.

Point being, I had complete faith in my boyfriend and trusted our devotion to one another.

Back to the current time, the feather around my neck gives another jerk, this one much less violent, catching my attention and causing me to frown down at it in concern.

In theory, or well, confirmed by Keigo, the red feather around my neck was just an extension of his body and Quirk, meaning the feather reacted the same way the feathers on his back did. Which could only mean…

I lift my gaze to inspect the pair of heroes across the street. Kiki had made her way further into Keigo's personal space, now standing only inches away from him and running a hand along his chest while looking up at him from under half-lidded eyes. Even from where I stood, I could read the seduction in her actions, and it caused me to physically cringe. Is she aware of just how desperate she looks?

I feel the feather twitch again, and with my gaze focused on Keigo, I catch the way the feathers on his back twitch as well, a clear indication of his discomfort. 

As previously mentioned, I had complete faith in my boyfriend, and I'm also aware of how the HPSC controlled his actions and personality in public. I also know that Keigo is a considerate person and cares deeply for the people he works with. It's for those reasons that I don't blame Keigo for not immediately shoving Kiki away or yelling at her to keep her distance from him. Lashing out at her would only get him in trouble and nag at his subconscious.

I think for a few moments, mind filing through ways I could possibly save my boyfriend from the predicament he was in. My gaze falls on the twitching feather again, and my eyes widen at the newfound idea in my mind. 

I kick myself off of the lamp pole, unfolding my arms and reaching a hand up to gently pinch the feather between my fingers, knowing exactly how sensitive the item is. With measured actions, I tentatively bring the feather to my lips and softly graze it against them, smiling when I catch Keigo stiffening across the street. 

“Hey Kei,” I whisper, knowing the blonde could hear my every word.

Keigo's head whips around: beady, golden eyes immediately finding me and lighting up with a happiness I recognize all too well. He hastily pulls Kiki’s hand from his chest and makes his way over to me, all in a matter of mere seconds. A man too fast for his own good, I chuckle to myself, finding amusement in my own thought.

“Hello my love,” Keigo greets, arms instinctively wrapping around my waist and pulling me close.

I smile, soft and almost unnoticeable, but Keigo knows it's there nonetheless, and I bring my hands up to cradle his face in my palms.

“Hello,” I mumble, gaze fixed on the way Keigo's lips are spread into a wide smile, and his eyes are filled with that fondness always aimed at me. If there was ever any doubt as to whether or not Keigo loved me, all that you needed to do was analyze the way he looked at me. In those golden, sunset irises, you’d always find the undeniable answer written between his affection.

Keigo lets out a soft chuckle before pulling his face from my hands and closing the distance between us, nuzzling his face against my cheek with quiet chirps escaping his lips.

“Missed you so much,” Keigo coos, planting soft pecks against my cheek.

“You're going to get into trouble with the commission,” I warn, making no effort to put a stop to his actions of showering me with affection.

“Don't care,” he says, voice muffled where his face is buried in the crook of my neck.

“I know, but I do,” I say with a giggle, softly running a hand through his hair and pulling out a small twig that likely got stuck there when he was flying.

“I wanna kiss you,” he admits quietly, the sadness shining through in his tone. My brows draw together in a sympathetic frown, only able to imagine how trapped he feels, bound by the HPSC’s rules and regulations.

As much as I would have loved for him to kiss me right then, I knew it only spelled trouble for the both of us. The way his arms were wrapped around me now was already bordering on the limits set for us by the commission. Anything else would definitely end in ruin.

“Kei,” I gently warn, and he gets the message hidden behind the word, pulling his face from my neck and standing upright, releasing my form and taking a small step back. His lips are jutted out in a pout, and his brows are settled in a light frown, pulling yet another soft giggle from me at how adorable he looks.

Picking up the feather around my neck again, I place it against my lips to give it a kiss, and Keigo's cheeks flare up in a blush. 

“I'll give you a proper kiss when you get home after patrol, Pretty Bird,” I promise, never missing the way my boyfriend’s eyes light up in excitement. Like a kiss from me is some holy gift bestowed on him from above.

“I'm holding you to that,” Keigo says, wings flapping behind him and sending a gust of wind my way as he rises up in the air. He gives me a final wave and blows me a kiss before he flies away, leaving me alone on the ground. 

My eyes fall from the sky and land on Kiki, who is staring forward with a stunned expression, mouth hanging open in pure bewilderment and shock, as if I'm the one that just tried to steal her boyfriend. The ridiculous notion causes me to laugh, catching her attention and bringing her focus back to reality.

With a smug, self-satisfied smirk, I pull the feather between my fingers again to hold it out on display for the woman, my other hand raising to flip her the bird. (Pun fully intended.)

˗ˋ Bonus ˊ˗

“Hello my love.”

Keigo tackles me into the couch’s cushions, and I giggle freely at the chirps filling the air and the lips tickling my ear. I scrunch my nose at the sensation, hands burying themselves in Keigo's hair to try and reel him in a little.

“Hi Pretty Bird,” I greet back, earning me a happy chirp at the nickname. “I missed you too.”

“Hmm,” Keigo hums, placing another peck on my cheek and pulling back to place his forehead against mine. “Where's my promised kiss?”

My lips tug into a smile, and I can't resist the urge to tease him at least a little.

“Where's my—”

I'm interrupted by Keigo’s phone ringing, his ringtone blaring from the coffee table and disrupting the peace of our shared apartment.

We stare at the lit-up screen for a moment, both of us able to recognize the caller ID as that belonging to the HPSC. My stomach twists nervously, and I shoot Keigo a concerned glance.

“Did you get into trouble?” I question, fearing the answer would be yes. 

Keigo looks to me as well, ignoring the phone still ringing in the background. His lips are pulled into a guilty smile, brows furrowed nervously. “I wouldn't exactly call it trouble,” he says, tilting his head to the side. 

In his attempt to avoid any events that may have transpired earlier that afternoon, I find my concern melting away, replaced by fondness and endearment.

“Shouldn't you answer that?” I question, pointing to the phone still ringing on the coffee table.

Keigo sends a feather out to retrieve his phone, inspecting it in his hand before pressing the ‘decline’ button and tossing the device over his shoulder.

“Nah,” he says, lips curling into a lazy smirk. “I'd rather take that kiss now.”

I shake my head and roll my eyes, cupping his face all the same and pulling him closer to slot our lips together; the action so fluid and natural. Like it was always meant to be Keigo's lips and no one else's.

[qtboni]

Hello again boni! its me, again, bc i adored your writing on my last req! i have another if that okay!

how would ghost (or maybe konig too, bc i luv him aswell) act if you told him you were pregnant? like this is early relationship, maybe a month or two into dating, only had sex about 4 times, and how would he go about telling soap and his friends and shit?

if you dont want to do this req u dont have to, but it was jus an idea! ^v^

again, thank you in advance, luv ya and your work!

HAI BBY! sorry this took so long to write >< i hope this makes up for it! i also saw your other req and im rly looking forward in writing it! thank you for this!

╰﹒ 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐉𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐒 !

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Fem!Reader & König X Fem!Reader

OVERVIEW: Your partner's reaction to the news of your pregnancy.

C/W: A sprinkle of angst with cute comfort and fluff ^^ mentions of being pregnant.

You took a deep breath, trying to still the trembling in your limbs. Your hands were shaking as you reached for the pregnancy test on the bathroom counter. You closed the door behind you and sat down on the cold tile floor, closing your eyes as you waited for the result.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you looked down at the test. Two bold lines were staring back up at you. You couldn't believe it - you were pregnant! At first, you felt a wave of joy wash over you, but it quickly turned into terror.

You were pregnant... with a baby. His baby.

You didn't know how to tell him, you were terrified that he would leave you if he found out. Tears streamed down your face as you collapsed onto the floor, sobbing inconsolably.

You had always dreamt of having a baby, but this was too much. It was too early. You were scared, alone, and entirely unsure of what to do. The idea of bringing a human being into this world was daunting, and you couldn't shake the fear that you wouldn't be a good parent.

You stayed there on the bathroom floor for what felt like hours, tears streaming down your face, until finally you heard the sound of your thoughts, telling you that you need to tell him. Your heart skipped a beat as you quickly wiped away your tears, trying to compose yourself, and scrambled to your feet to find him.

You opened the door and went out, sniffling away your tears. You were determined to do what was right, even though you knew it would be painful.

── ◜‹3◞  SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY :

"I'm pregnant..." you said, your voice shaking.

You stood in front of Simon, your legs trembling as you held the positive pregnancy test in your hand. You had taken the test a dozen times, and each time it came back positive. You had tried to push the thought of it away, to pretend it wasn't happening, but the reality was sinking in. You were going to be a mother. But more than that, you might become a mother without the man you love.

The words echoed in the silence that followed, as if they hung in the air between you two. Simon took a step back, his eyes growing wider as he tried to make sense of what you had just told him.

Simon stood in front of you, his eyes searching yours for an answer. You could see the shock and confusion written all over his face, and you knew this was the moment to tell him.

"What.." you heard him whisper. You thought he was going to run, to leave you to face this alone. But he didn't move, he just stood there, frozen in place..

That isn't a good sign.

You felt a lump form in your throat as the tears welled up in your eyes. This was too much to bear on your own, and you needed him, you needed his support, or else you didn't know how you would make it through this. But the silence was unbearable, and you felt like you were suffocating.

"I.." You took a step forward, your hand extended towards him. "Please, Simon, I need you."

You cradled your stomach and felt hot tears slowly going down your cheeks. You sobbed as you managed to choke out, "I can't do this alone, Si'. Please..."

Long gone was the distress in his eyes. Softness emerged from them as he realized the situation. And you swore you saw a shimmer in his eyes. You slowly watch as he reached out and took your hand, his touch sending an electric shock through your body.

"I'm here, sorry, love," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I'm here for you."

You felt like you could finally breathe again, like you had just been given a second chance. You felt a sense of relief wash over you, and you broke down in tears, finally letting go of all the fear and emotion that had been swirling inside of you.

Simon pulled you into his arms, holding you tight as you cried, his presence the only thing that kept you going. You look up at Simon, tears streaming down your face.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper. "I know this is a lot to take in, and I know it's not the right time."

Simon's eyes soften as he lowers himself to one knee, taking your hands in his. "Don't be sorry, love," he says. "We're in this together, we'll figure it out. I love you. I'll do everything I can to be there for you and our baby."

You feel a rush of relief and gratitude wash over you, and you lean in to hug him. "Thank you, Simon," you whisper.

Over the next few months, Simon goes above and beyond to show his support. He does research on pregnancy, childbirth, and newborn care, and he attends every doctor's appointment with you. He asks questions and listens carefully to the advice of the healthcare professionals, and he makes a point of being involved in every aspect of your pregnancy.

As you begin to show, Simon becomes more protective of you, helping you with simple tasks like carrying groceries or opening doors.

Despite his own uncertainties and insecurities from his abusive father, Simon still dreams to be a good father. He would spend time reading parenting books and attending parenting classes.

In those early days, Simon is a different man than the one he was before the baby arrived. He's more patient, more sensitive, and more thoughtful. He listens to you more deeply, and he makes an effort to truly see and understand you.

Simon walked into the pub, greeted by the familiar sound of laughter and the smell of beer. He made his way to the bar and ordered a beer, before taking a seat at their usual table in the corner.

Gaz, Captain Price, and Soap were already there, engaged in a conversation. As soon as Simon sat down, Soap noticed his presence and greeted him with a wave.

"Hey, mate," Soap said, his accent thicker than usual after a few beers. "What's up?"

Simon took a sip of his beer and cleared his throat, trying to come up with the right words to say. "I need to talk to you guys about something," he said, his voice sounding a little hoarse.

Gaz put down his beer and turned to face Simon. "What's up, man?" he asked, his concern evident on his face.

Simon took a deep breath, steeling himself for the reaction he was going to get. "My girlfriend and I are expecting a baby," he said, feeling a mix of emotions wash over him.

The three friends looked surprised for a moment, before bursting into a chorus of congratulations and questions.

Gaz asked if it was a boy or a girl, while Captain Price offered to help build the nursery and Soap promised to be there for Simon every step of the way, even bragged at the man jokingly that he would be the favorite uncle of his child amongst Gaz and Price.

Simon felt overwhelmed with gratitude for his friends' support. He felt like he could handle anything, knowing that he had people in his life who cared about him and were there for him, no matter what.

Simon, although still is quite insecure with himself to be a dad, he wants to be there for your child.

── ◜‹3◞  KÖNIG :

König is sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone, unaware of what's about to happen and you shakily inhaled.

"Hun," you say, your voice trembling, "I need to talk to you."

He looks up at you, sensing that something's off.

"What's wrong, schatz?" he asks, placing his phone down and coming closer to you.

"I'm pregnant," you blurt out, feeling a wave of emotions wash over you. His eyes widen in surprise, and he takes a step back.

"W-Was meinst du?" he stammers in German, clearly taken aback by the news.

For a moment, there's silence between the two of you. You can see the fear and uncertainty in his expression.

"Are you sure?" he adds, his voice quieter than usual.

"I've taken three tests," you assure him and fumbled on your fingers. "It's... I'm sure."

You watch as König sinks onto the couch, rubbing his forehead as he tries to process the news. His social anxiety is starting to kick in, and you can see him pulling inward. You know this is a lot for him to take in, and you want to give him the space he needs to process his emotions.

But as you stand there, waiting for him to respond, you notice a sudden change in his behavior. He stood up to pace back and forth, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. You can tell that he's getting increasingly agitated, and you're not sure what's going on.

This hurts you. So much.

Before you confront him about it, he abruptly storms out of the room, his footsteps echoing through the house. You're left standing there, confused and worried. Hurt, you cradled yourself for protection. Was it something you said? Did you do something wrong?

You spend the next few minutes in a state of anxiety, unable to shake the feeling that something is deeply amiss. You have no idea what to do or where to turn. But then, several minutes later, König finally comes back.

You hear him before you see him, his footsteps pounding against the floor. You jump up from the couch, your heart pounding in your chest. It's clear that he's in a state of panic, his hair disheveled and his eyes wide with distress.

"I'm sorry," König says, his voice shaking as he rushes to you.

He pulls you into a tight hug, his body trembling against yours. You can feel his heart pounding against your chest, and you wrap your arms around him, offering comfort and reassurance.

"I'm so sorry, mein liebling," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please forgive me."

You're too stunned to even speak. Why'd he leave? And, he came back?

He takes your hands in his, tears streaming down his face.

"I never meant to hurt you," he says, his voice hitching. "It was just too much, too fast. I'm sorry, Es tut mir so leid, Süße."

"It's okay, König," you say, kissing the top of his head. "I understand. This is a lot for both of us to take in."

He pulls away slightly, looking up at you with teary eyes.

"I don't know if I'm ready for this," he says, his voice cracking. "I'm so scared. I don't want to mess this up."

You caress his cheek softly, smiling at him. "We'll figure this out together," you say, your voice filled with kindness and love. "Okay?"

He nods, clinging onto you tightly.

"Okay," he whispers, his voice filled with gratitude. "Danke, mein liebe. I love you so much."

König kissed your forehead and continued on peppering kisses all over your pretty face, making you giggle.

And in that moment, you know that everything will be alright. You're in this together, and you'll face whatever challenges come your way, hand in hand, united in love and determination.

The day König found out about the pregnancy was one of the most overwhelming moments of his life. He never expected to become a father so soon, and the thought of having so much responsibility suddenly weighed heavily on him.

As someone who struggles with social anxiety, he found it difficult to process his emotions and express them to you. He withdrew into myself, feeling isolated and like he was failing you.

But you refused to let him pull away. You gently but firmly pulled him back in, offering love and reassurance at every turn. You listened to his fears and concerns, and gave him the space to process them at his own pace. You were in this together, and he would be right there beside you every step of the way.

As the days passed, König slowly started to come out of his shell. He became more involved in the pregnancy, eager to learn and prepare for your new life as parents. He started to think about what kind of father he wanted to be, and how he could be the best partner he could be to you.

He was still anxious at times, but your support and love never wavered. You reminded him that he didn't have to be perfect, that you would face the future together, and that you would make mistakes along the way. Together, you faced every challenge that came your way, from picking out baby names to decorating the nursery. You became a team, united by your love for each other and your love for your child.

Through it all, König realized that you were his strength, his hope, and his happiness. You were his everything, and he couldn't imagine going through this journey without you. He knew that you were meant to be together, and that the road ahead would be filled with love, happiness, and joy.

König had always struggled with social anxiety, and it had been difficult for him to make friends. But he was incredibly close to his beloved grandmother, who he knew would be overjoyed to hear the news of his soon-to-be fatherhood.

So, he took a deep breath and started to write down what he wanted to say, practicing it a few times to help him feel more prepared. He knew that this was an important moment in his life, and he wanted to share it with the person he loved the most.

When he finally approached his grandmother's house, he could already hear her laughter and happy tears. It was as if she had been expecting the news, and he felt a weight lifted off his shoulders.

König takes a deep breath and approaches his grandmother, holding out the sonogram photo. His heart races as he waits for her to look up, eager to share the news.

"Großmutter," he trailed off. "I have some news to share with you."

"Oh, König, selbstverständlich!" the old woman said in her native tongue as she turns to him. "What is it, dear?"

"Großmutter," He clears his throat. "I'm going to be a father."

König watches his grandma's eyes light up and he felt so relieved to hear, "Oh König, that's wonderful news! I'm so happy for you!"

To his surprise, his grandmother responded with the sweetest words of love and encouragement that he had ever heard. She told him how proud she was of him, and how excited she was for your journey ahead as the mother of her grandkid.

He replies back in German, "Thank you, Großmutter. It means so much to have your support."

The old woman stood up and hugged him tightly, "Of course, dear. You know I'll always be here for you."

His grandma then kisses his cheek. He could see the joy on her face as he told her about the new life growing inside him, and he felt a warm sense of love and acceptance. Konig felt an overwhelming rush of happiness and gratitude as he hugged his grandmother tightly. For someone who struggled with social anxiety, the kindness and love that she showed him made him feel more confident and secure in the journey ahead.

With their love and guidance, König was excited to embrace the next chapter of his life as a father. He knew that he would never have to face life's challenges alone, he had you. You had always been there for him in the past, and he knew that you would continue to be there in the future. And with the new life growing inside him, he felt a sense of hope and happiness that he had never experienced before.

König can't wait to be the father of your child and shower him or her with endless affection and support.

[fryktheciller]

Cooler

charlie dalton x gn!reader

summary: a summer evening at dalton's place

notes: hi!! this is the first ff i actually finished writing and im dying inside at the thought of posting it. english isnt my first language and im posting this at 2 am, after a poor revision, idk what to say expect spelling mistakes and sentences that dont make sense and raskolnikov-like blurb cause im him hes me and ok i really need to close this paragraph.

Days fly by with Dalton. His parents, two goddamn toffs, sure had great taste, both in furniture and especially in friends. God bless that day his parents decided to become best friends with yours.

Can't say the same about their son, Charlie, a professional dickhead, from the day you knew each other until the day he'd close his eyes and become cold. Sure, he's hot and pretty and oh so charming; sometimes he can also be kind and gentle, but he's got something that’s scary magnetic, and addictive, or at least you think so. That something’s everywhere: in the way he moves his hands while he's explaining the last shitplan he’s come up with while smoking on the balcony; the way he rolls up his shirt, thinking it will help doing a math test, knowing damn well he's going to pass by a stroke of pure luck; or the way he plays the most outrageous melody on his sax, still making it somehow so good and passionate. Also (did I mention it?) he's quite literally the definition of gorgeous—the definition of kalokagathia, except it’s all looks and no agathia. The whole thing’s like: I could love him. And you, oh so desperately!, do. 

The sun’s setting, it’s humid, and the air’s filled with the scent of flowers and the smoke of Charlie’s cigarette. 

–Want one?- He hands you his torn-out red Marlboro packet and his lighter.

You take one and light it up, sitting on the balcony’s hot tiles. 

–Got no dates this summer?

He shrugs, smiling and blowing smoke into your face.

–Got asked out a couple of times before school was over. It's that I'm not interested, don't really know why.

You drag from your cigarette and blow the smoke out, then lightly tap it to get rid of excess ash. 

–Milord, if you may forgive the vulgar language I’m about to use, us peasants call it being in love, or having an interest in someone. Again, sorry for using such vulgar and disgraceful language.

He laughs, and you laugh along with him.

He puts out the cigarette on the tiles, and shrugs again. 

–I don't know.

–It’s not that you don't know; you'd like not to know. Falling in love with someone must be such a sin in the Charlie Dalton religion.

He laughs mechanically, somehow. He hesitates, smiles, and, once again, shrugs. 

–Generally I try to avoid these statements, but now I can't help but embrace them. I've given up.

You laugh, and he follows you—heartily, even. 

–But you?

–Me?

He gestures vaguely with his hand, and you find yourself staring at it with lust, almost. 

–Laid those pretty eyes on someone?

You shrug.

–Nothing much.

–What does that even mean? It's either yes or no. You said it. 

–Didn’t say it. I implied it

–Smartass.

–You’re just jealous of my linguistic capacities.

–Sure I am. Now is it some new incestuos-alien-being who doesn’t even know what a woman is, or is it someone worthy of your admiration?

 –He’s…definitely worth my attention. I think. But I have no hopes. I count on nothing. The thing is: do you really have such low consideration for my romantic interests?

You raise an eyebrow at him, almost mischievously. 

–Not at all. I remember all of those creatures you swore to your mother you loved. And, oh god!, you might expect to find someone pretty on a list that's basically a decade long, but no! Each and one of them is outrageous-looking and with absolutely no social skills. Sometimes, I’ll be honest, I really wondered if you were joking, and for some time I even believed that. But what a realization it was when I understood you found those things pretty.

You both laugh again, and you visualize and remember all those “people” you liked and that you now look at with disgust and apathy.

You’re folded over your stomach, tears of laughter streaming down your face, your tummy hurts, and you can't breathe; he's no different, lying down on the floor, arms wrapped around his stomach, wet lines at the corners of his face, and misty eyes; almost like he was thinking about the same thing as you.

As soon as you thought it was over, anything like a weird look was enough to get you both to start laughing.

–Good god,– you whisper, wiping off the tears with your fingers.

–I think I have never laughed so much at something I said. 

A smile is enough as a response; anything else would kill you.

–By the way, he’s really pretty.

He raises an eyebrow, almost trying to contradict you. 

You smile at him, as if trying to get him started on a debate.

–Description?– he asks, understanding your intentions.

–No, for god’s sake. 

–Not even a hint? A tiny little hint?

–Nothing, absolutely nothing. 

How would you describe this person anyway? “A brunette and dark-eyed boy who plays the saxophone and is a dickhead for a living”? It’s ridiculously explicit. 

–How ‘bout you? It's not that I care, but, you know...

He laughs in response.

–No, you’d tell them.

–Why would I do that? I most likely have no clue who that is.

He shakes his head. 

–Do I know them, at least?

He shrugs and hesitates.

 –Pretty much, yes.

Your head hurts; your stomach is practically in your throat; and you spat your heart long ago. You hope to God that he doesn't come up with a “it’s you” thing because you would faint on the spot. 

–Oh, but it’s your turn now,– he says, nudging you with his elbow.

–Do you know him? ...uhh yes, I suppose so. 

–Great.

–Yeah.

Silence falls between you. You tilt your head and look at the sky, intense, dark, and somehow transparent and clear, like it is only in summer; the air is now fresher, and a soft breeze rises, contrasting with the boiling heat of the tiles. Everything’s humid, full of the scent of flowers, from both florid and almost empty plants, frogs croaking, and fireflies, opposing the equally intense beaming, but perhaps less faint, of the stars. 

Your head still hurts; you can see but you can't really see; you still have the laughter from before in your tummy, and thinking about it still makes you chuckle. 

He seems to ignore you. He lit up another cigarette. “What’s he thinking about?” you think, looking at the sun-colored and bustling flame from the lighter, then at the less intense and steadier one on the tobacco. 

“Must be so unhealthy for him to smoke like this,” you think, and you find yourself pitying him, "ridiculous," is your comment. It is indeed ridiculous to pity someone who rejects deeply and obstinately the concept of that feeling. 

You want to hold him against your chest or on your shoulder, smell the scent of his skin, and keep him close, even if that means dying from the heat. You stare at his profile—that huge yet so perfect nose; that big hand, well-kept like only a musician can do; then the cigarette, already half-burnt; and his lips, chapped and dry. You look at them with lust once again, but not lust lust, something more tender and sweeter, rather than sinful, even though the sin part doesn't really bother you. 

“Tell him, c'mon, tell him,” a little voice in your head was screaming. Of course you’re not going to tell him, or maybe yes? What would happen if you did? You'd lose a friendship that's scary long; that’s what would happen. And what would you do without him? Could you make it? Of course not. You don't remember what it feels like not to have him by your side. Plus, he wouldn't forget: who the hell would forget the love confession from their best friend anyway?

“C'mon, tell him, tell him!” You swear you hear that tiny voice screaming at the top of its lungs.

No, you won't tell him; you'll bring your feelings to the grave with you. 

He put out the cigarette, still in silence. 

“C'mon!! Carpe diem, for fuck’s sake!” What does that even mean? Can I kill a man because I thought “carpe diem" ? That doesn't make any fucking sense. And when did you really start to love him? Months ago? Days ago? Years ago? It could have been yesterday; you’d swear you’ve been loving him for years. 

You start to embrace the idea of telling him. “How would I even put up the whole sentence?” You can't do anything but tell him. Let's be honest; it feels like lying to him, and would you want someone else to tell him rather than you?

–Char

He turns at you with a questioning gaze on his face. Your heart's beating so fast that you feel your arteries are going to explode.

–Can’t beat around the bush much longer, you know. That person…

You pale, feeling the blood pump hard in your temples, and you start to wonder if those were really your last words.

–Cool.

He doesn't feel the same way; it's clear. 

–It's even cooler because I really like you too.

You smile and start to chuckle; it feels like fresh air after holding your breath for too long. He responds with a soft laugh, heartily, then wraps an arm around your shoulders and brings your figure next to hiss, kissing your forehead with those chapped and dry lips that feel like a fresh towel you washed without fabric softener. 

–Were you going to confess your sins eventually?– You joke, still smiling.

–Perhaps, yes. Seems like we’re going to be busy earlier than I expected, though. 

He smirks, a flashing Charlie Dalton smirk. You groan, annoyed, in response.

–Fucking disgusting, Charlie.

–Sure, sure. 

–It's too hot to have sex, Charlie. Don't tell me you don't think so.

–You just told me you liked me, and you have already started to protest?

He shakes his head in mock disapproval.

–You’re not going anywhere, like this.

You chuckle.

–Kiss me, and I'll stop whining.

–Could have told me earlier, maybe we could have actually got to have sex,– he laughs, leaning in. 

His lips are on yours; they're soft, gente, and warm, but still rough and dry. 

God, this boy needs chapstick so badly.

[irisintheafterglow]

hi iris i hope u have been well!!

wanted to request a little fluff/mutual pining moment between Satoru and reader who's also an instructor but they only ever get to see eachother during exchange events/higher up meetings/a mission every now and then (it's not for a lack of wanting to pursue eachother but neither of them have put in the effort bc they're both have commitment issues and deem themselves unworthy of trying) i think it would be soooo cute and i'm just dying to see Satoru and reader's students tease them about their VERY obvious chemistry... and hopefully something finally coming out of it in the end :-)

hehe thank u so much and as always you're the best!!

i hate accidents, except when we went from friends to this!

wc: 2.6k

cw/tags: coworkers to lovers, idiots in love, reader and gojo have no idea what they're doing, swearing, mentions of drinking, fluffy fluffy fluff

note: hi anon! thank you so much for the ask, hope you like it!! i definitely got a little carried away writing it just because it's such a cute premise lol

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated !!

A piece of paper slides inconspicuously into your peripheral vision and it takes all of your willpower not to smirk. With equal nonchalance, you carefully peek under the ripped corner of the meeting agenda and can’t help smiling at the message scrawled on it. 

We’re drinking after this (not optional). 

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye and see him leaning back in his office chair, arms crossed and looking like he’d rather be dipping his limbs in molten lava. Even with his blindfold, you can see the boredom in his expression and you bite your tongue to keep from laughing. His inability to appear professional was going to be the death of you both. 

“Gojo, are you listening?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” he says with blatant dishonesty that makes you bite your bottom lip and carefully observe the dusty ceiling tiles. “I was just in…deep thought.” He tastes the last two words like philosophies to be pondered and it suddenly becomes much harder to continue to have a blank expression. Their first mistake was picking a verbal fight with him. 

“Deep thought about what?” Their second mistake was letting him keep talking.  

“Ah, you know, the usual things.” You can feel his attention flick to you for a moment and it gives him a wave of confidence to continue to be a little pest at a meeting neither of you wanted to be attending. It was his favorite pastime, after all, to get you to smile at his shenanigans despite the bullshit you were hearing. “The meaning of life, the wonders of love,” he begins before his volume drops so that only you could hear it, “Why this couldn’t have been a fucking email–”

“What was that?” You suppress a snort into your fist and take a sip of water, hoping the other meeting attendees couldn’t see that you were tearing up from trying not to laugh. The angry-faced higher up scowls at him, catching the biting tone but not his words. Satoru merely smiles innocently, like every utterance was of the purest and most amicable intentions. 

“Nothing,” he sings and you cough into your sleeve to hide a laugh. The other higher ups with their ugly suits and balding heads look at you curiously, but all you can see is Satoru’s shit-eating grin from beside you. “I’m just worried for you, is all.” The higher-up at the front of the room scoffs, still believing the show. 

“Worried? For me?”

“Mhmm,” he nods, his brows drawn in fake concern. “I just know you don’t have a lot of time left on this plane and, well, wonder why you’re choosing to spend it here,” he states with a vague gesture around the musty room. An embarrassing noise of amusement escapes from your throat and you try in vain to regain your composure, only to fall into a fit of uncontrollable coughing. Satisfied with his achievement, he abruptly stands from his chair and pulls yours away from the desk. “My work here is finished. We’re leaving.” His finger gently taps your shoulder twice and you obey, standing and heading for the door while he pushes in your chair behind you. The official at the front of the room has turned beet-red.

“The arrogance of you two–”

“We’re done here. If you say anything important, Ijichi will tell me. I doubt the possibility, though,” Satoru states with finality, opening the door for you and shooting the room of stunned officials one last smirk. Too lazy to walk through the winding halls or take the snail-paced elevator, a flick of your wrist opens a portal into an alley on the side of the building. Your colleague lets out a whistle of approval as your shoes cross from dirty carpet to asphalt, finally taking in fresh air after hours of sitting in the stale conference room. The moon shines in all of its winter glory and you shiver against the welcome chill, comforted by the chatter of the city’s nightlife. “Still up for that drink?”

“As long as you’re buying it,” you reply. “I’m gonna call the kids first and let them know I’m out.”

“Tell them I say hi,” he says without missing a beat, leaning against a nearby wall to wait for you to finish. Utahime picks up after two rings. 

“Hello? Ah, you’re finally done. That’s great!” Your coworker’s voice temporarily becomes muffled while she answers questions of who she’s talking to, followed by a chorus of your name imploring you to come back. “Everyone, say hi!” Your beloved students greet you enthusiastically and you smile at their enthusiasm. “Will you be on your way soon?”

“In a little,” you say, slightly sheepish as your eyes flick over to the man behind you. “I’m gonna get a drink.”

“You’re going by yourself?” 

“Not exactly,” you answer slowly and the realization hits Utahime as she breaks out into a lecture on how Satoru isn’t good enough for you. “Easy, easy. It’s just a drink, nothing else.” Your whispered attempts to placate your friend’s indignance prove futile and you settle for letting her get all of her complaints out. 

“He’s a no-good playboy with a rock for a brain and a chatterbox of a mouth, you idiot,” she concludes after her lengthy rant. “I don’t want you getting hurt because he’s too scared to make any commitments.”

“I’m not making any commitments either, Utahime,” you remind her and you can imagine her rolling her eyes from the other side of the line. “It’s just a drink,” you reiterate, but you still hear her grunt of disapproval. “I’ll see you in a bit, yeah?”

“Mhmm,” she responds skeptically. “Don’t do anything dumb.” 

“Love you too, Utahime,” you laugh, hanging up the phone and sticking it back in your pocket. “Alright, let’s go,” you call to Satoru, who eagerly pushes off the wall and drags you out of the alley. “We haven’t eaten, so we’re getting dinner too.” 

“Whatever you want,” he grins. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t harbor some sort of romantic affections toward Satoru, but you were also resigned to the fact that you’d never act on it. He was the most powerful human being on the planet; how could you be worthy of loving such a man? Still, in times like this, where it was just the two of you walking hand-in-hand to who knows where, your mind tended to drift into thoughts of what could be if you weren’t in this line of work. It would be nice to love him, that’s all. Yeah, it’d be really nice to love him. 

You couldn’t explain any of this to your students the next morning, though, when they interrogated you on who you were with the entire night. When you let his name slip, the shock in the room was palpable. 

“See, I knew you guys had a thing for each other!” Miwa points her sword at you accusingly, far more fired up than you’d ever seen her before. “I thought I was the only one who noticed how he looked at you!”

“There is nothing of the sort, so I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you counter, pushing the sheathed blade to the side. Your other students fight back with full force. 

“It’s so obvious that he likes you,” Mai says, like it’s an insult. “Teasing you all the time? Making excuses to crash your meetings?”

“Bringing you lunch if he’s within a fifty mile radius of our campus,” Nishimiya adds and her classmates nod in agreement. “Do you know how many times I’ve caught him trying to surprise you by air?”

“That could be just part of a working relationship,” you argue, but they’re relentless. “How would you know anything about his intentions? Maybe he’s just being nice!”

“I believe his intentions with you are, indeed, romantic,” Kamo reiterates and you groan, hiding your burning face in your hands. “I can’t say I don’t see the vision. You’re a powerful duo.”

“Your marriage would make the brass shit themselves,” Mai muses with a cynical glint in her eye. “Can you imagine having a baby that can send Hollow Purple through a portal?”  

“Oh, their children would be so beautiful,” Miwa squeals and it’s like waterfalls of sweat come rushing from your forehead.

“Alright, alright. Let’s not talk about marriage or babies, please,” you cut in, quick to nip that conversation in the bud. You can’t tell if it’s the weather making your palms clammy or the unending tirade of comments about your dating life. “We can change the topic of conversation now,” you say in an attempt to get the heat off of you for a little bit. “Todo, how’s that idol you like so much doing?” It’s a good idea, initially, but the thought of you and Satoru together seemed to be brainwashed over your students.

“She’s wonderful, just as the two of you in love is a wonderful sight.” Todo can’t seem to help himself as he announces his enthusiasm for your romantic endeavors, teleporting across the room and swapping positions with his classmates from claps of pure excitement. Mechamaru provides a single thumbs-up when you look to him for support, and you pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers.

“I think it’s cute how you act like you hate him and then can’t seem to stay away during events like this. Love is so complex,” Miwa sighs, resting her chin on her hand and staring off dreamily. You scoff, hoping they can’t tell how fast your heart rate has picked up. “I wish I were in love.”

“It’s not love. If anything, it’s just admiration. Yeah, it’s just admiration,” you conclude and you’re met with skeptical stares. 

“Yeah, admiration of his hot bod,” Miwa mutters and you open a portal without thinking, allowing some fat drops of rain from who knows where to fall on her head. It was a common form of discipline, summoning portals to unruly weather conditions, and your students sit up a little straighter in understanding. “Fine, okay, okay. I’m done.”

“You sure? If you’re not done, I’m gonna send you to the Amazon again.”

“Yes, fine. I’m done, I promise.”

“Done with what?” You stiffen, mentally kicking yourself for not registering his presence sooner. Had he not taken up your entire attention, you would have sent Miwa to South America for the gasp of excitement she let out when Satoru appeared. It seemed that none of you knew he was listening until he leaned against the doorframe, all six feet of height taking up the entire space. He was wearing his signature shit-eating grin that made you want to choke him with his own blindfold. “You gossiping in here?”

“Nope, just going over strategy,” you lie straight to his face and he hums, not believing you for a second. “Shouldn’t you be doing that, too? With your own students?” You stand and attempt to push him out of the room, only to find him completely immovable. His hand covers yours, lacing your fingers together in a way that makes you a little dizzy. 

“All in good time,” he says carefreely, as if the action with your hands was second-nature. “For now, can I steal you away for a moment? It won’t take long.” You can practically hear the waggling eyebrows from your students and nod, unable to form a biting response because of the crashing trains of thought in your mind. His hand remains holding yours as he all but pulls you outside, finally dropping it when the excited chatter of your students has subsided. “You okay? You seem a little frazzled,” he asks once you’re far enough from any eavesdropping attempts.

“Yeah, my kids are just being a little…funny, today,” you exhale, trying to hide your unease with a nervous giggle. “You know them; they love to make up their own little stories.” He raises his eyebrows in amusement, matching your pace as you walk down a random outdoor corridor of the Tokyo campus. 

“Mine have actually been doing the same thing,” he confesses after a brief moment of awkward silence. “Making speculations, drawing connections. Seems to be a good exercise in pattern-recognition.” You know he means it as a joke, but all you can think about is Miwa’s comment on admiring Satoru’s ‘hot bod.’ Had his students picked up on your behavior, too?

“What are some of these connections they’re drawing?”

“Connections about my behavior around…hmm,” his voice trails off and the corner of his mouth turns down into a frown, like he was unhappy with his students’ observations. “They’ve noticed things about the way I, well,” he stammers and for the first time, you witness Gojo Satoru get tongue-tied. “Somethings that they’ve seen and heard and–”

“Satoru.” You halt both of your strides and cross your arms defensively over your chest, slightly uncomfortable from Satoru’s inability to express himself when he would otherwise be talking your ear off. “What is this about?”

“My students know I like you,” he states bluntly and your heartbeat momentarily stops pounding in your ears. His students know that he what? “And they also theorize,” he stops to clear his throat, adjusting his collar and avoiding your eyes, “that you may reciprocate the same feelings.” Any words that you can form get caught in your throat, an odd mixture of happiness, shock, and pure dread stirring around in your brain. All you could do is blink at him, dumbly, while he shifts between the balls of his feet. “Please, say something.”

“You like me,” you repeat, tasting the words like a fancy wine you’ve never tried before breaking out into the widest smile you’ve ever felt. “Holy shit, you like me?”

“You’re smiling,” he states, still trying to process what was happening. “That’s a good thing, right?”

“Holy shit, you like me!” Your voice raises on its own and you take a step back in surprise, covering your face with your hands to try and contain your emotions. “What the fuck, Satoru?”

“Yeah, that’s,” he mumbles as he watches you celebrate, “that’s how I’m feeling too.” 

“Wait, so what do we do now?” 

“I have no idea. I didn’t expect to get this far,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck and combing his fingers through his hair. “I was waiting for you to slap me and tell me to go to hell.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because I didn’t think you liked me back,” he sputters and the joy in both you and Satoru’s chests finally breaks loose in a fit of unending laughter. “Holy shit, I was so worried for nothing.”

“They’re gonna be so excited when we get back, they won’t be able to focus on the Exchange Event.”

“I don’t think I can focus on the Exchange Event.”

“Then we can postpone it!” You both flinch as a voice that was definitely not one of yours calls from behind a nearby wall, followed by a terrified oh, shit! as Satoru goes barreling around the corner and drags out the culprits by the collars of their shirts. Yuuji, the pink-haired student from Tokyo, and Miwa both try to explain themselves as they dangle weightlessly from Satoru’s hands. “Gojo, sir, we swear we weren’t trying to–”

“Hold on,” you pause Yuuji’s explanation, sensing some extra energy signatures that weren’t succeeding at hiding themselves. “Come out now, or I’m opening the portal to the Arctic,” you command in the open air and watch the leaves rustle as the rest of the Tokyo and Kyoto students fall from a nearby tree. “It’s rude to eavesdrop,” you chuckle as Nishimiya picks a few branches from Mai’s hair. “Go clean yourselves up and then we can begin the games.”

“You free this weekend after the games to go someplace?” Satoru whispers in your ear once all of the students are gone. “I need a break from the prying eyes of teenagers.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[last-herondale]

What we Almost Were (Almost Finale)

Bucky Barnes x Femreader!

The house was warm upon your entrance. Your clothes were soaked from the rain, and you shivered as you held the door open for Bucky. He followed behind you silently, his wet shoes squelching against the tile floor of the kitchen. Thunder continued to rumble outside and the wind was roaring harder than it had been minutes before. You hurried to a cupboard, securing a few towels in your hands. You tossed one to Bucky, as he stood in the kitchen sopping wet, his hair sticking to his face.

It wasn’t hitting you entirely. What had just occurred outside moments ago. What confessions had been made. You took a steadying breath.

“There’s a shower upstairs. Tony has some clothes in the spare room, so I don’t know what will fit you…”

Bucky gave you a smile. “Thanks doll.”

“Make yourself comfortable,” you said a bit awkwardly as you shifted around in your wet clothes, “I’m going to change.”

You turned on your heel and made your way upstairs. You shut the door to your room and let yourself lean up against the door to catch your breath. Your heart was racing, and you weren’t one hundred percent sure why. In the grand scheme of things, did any of this meet up matter?

Did his declarations of love change anything?

For so long you had forced yourself to believe that he didn’t love you, that he couldn’t love you because of his feelings for Nat, then his feelings for Nadia. It had taken you driving yourself away from everyone, isolating yourself to clear your head and your heart from all of the confusion and pain. You had finally become satisfied with yourself. You had finally learned to love yourself despite everything that had happened.

You took another breath.

I am enough. I am more than enough. I don’t need him to be whole.

That was the truth. The undeniable truth. It was the one thing that you knew was crucial to believe. That no matter what, you alone were enough for yourself. No man would ever be able to make you whole. Not Bucky, not Steve. No one. Only you. You couldn’t disappear into anyone again. You almost didn’t return the last time. You didn’t need Bucky. No. And you never would.

“But I want him,” you whispered to yourself.

Your body seemed to tremble with that want. Suddenly, you could hear the sound of footsteps creaking up the stairs. Your heart hammered in your chest as the sound of the door next door opened and closed gently. There were a few moments of silence, and then the sound of the water turning on broke you from your trance.

You flung open your door, your chest heaving. It was odd. Being so certain. You had never felt so sure about any course of action before. Even though you were certain, you were also terrified. You had risked your life for the sake of the world several times before, however, nothing compared to this moment.

You crossed the hallway in a few strides and opened up the door. The sound of the shower running in the background must have covered up the sound of the door opening. Bucky was in the middle of removing his soaked shirt when you had entered. His eyes widened as he saw you.

“Doll, is everything ok–”

Before he could finish his sentence, you grabbed his chin and pulled him in for a kiss. It was a bit more forceful than you had intended. Your skull rattled a bit at the impact. Bucky froze against you as you kissed him, his sudden intake of air made you pull away for a moment, but suddenly his hands were around your waist, keeping you close. His eyes were searching yours frantically, his pupils blown wide.

With your hand still on his chin, you pulled him closer again, gentler this time. His lips found yours this time. A soft sigh escaped his lips as you kissed him. You ran one hand up his face, cupping his cheek. His hands tightened around your waist, his thumbs grazing your midriff. You felt dizzy kissing him. You could still taste the rain on his skin. You pulled apart from him slowly, drawing out the last of the kiss. He kept his forehead tipped to yours, his bare chest rising and falling heavily.

“Say it again,” you whispered, “I want you to tell me again.”

Bucky didn’t miss a beat. “I love you.”

“Again.”

Bucky kissed your jaw, his lips lingering on your skin.

��I love you.”

“Again.”

He traced kisses along your jaw, nuzzling into your neck.

“I love you.”

“Again.”

He looked at you, his eyes burning with desire, and he put his hands in yours. He thumbed your hands. His voice grew to be so gentle. You had never heard him be so soft and quiet. His words were near a wisp of wind. He moved closer to your face, until his lips brushed against your ear.

“I love you.”

There was desperation in his voice. Utter sincerity. It made you shiver.

You looked up at him, almost in a dream-like state. He mirrored your look, his eyes seemed glazed over.

“Sit down,” you said, using one hand to gently push his stomach until he backed up onto the bed. He was obedient, and looked up at you expectantly as he rested on the edge of the bed. His metal hand still wrapped around yours, as if he feared you’d fly away. You gave him a gentle reassuring squeeze.

“I love you Bucky,” you said sweetly, “But I need you to understand a few things before–”

Before I allow you fully into my heart.

Bucky just continued to look at you as you hesitated. If he was afraid of what you would say next, he didn’t show it. He looked as calm as ever.

“I’m here, my love. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Hmm,” you smiled at him. He said it as if it was the most natural thing on the planet. As if he had always been calling you that.

“I love you,” you repeated. You took pleasure in seeing his mouth quiver into a small grin once you said it. “But I cannot let you break my heart again.”

It was a struggle to say, and it was even harder to see Bucky flinch slightly at your words. You sunk down to your knees, making yourself eye level with him. You put one hand on his knee to steady yourself.

“I want this, believe me, I want this more than anything, but only if you are certain of what you want. If you cannot see yourself having a life with me– if you cannot see yourself being honest with me, of loving me like I deserved to be loved– then I can’t–we can’t–”

You felt tears fall down your cheeks. He wiped your tears with his hand and held your face.

“It would kill me,” you murmured against his palm, “Having to repair myself again, if I were to lose you. I am stronger now than I ever was, but even I can only take so much heartache. So–so if you can’t– if I am not what you want, I need to know now and not later down the road.”

Bucky slid down off of the bed and knelt with you on the floor. He held your face, murmuring your name softly as he kissed away your tears.

“Listen to me love, listen please,” he said, his voice shaking with emotion, “I’m sorry– so very sorry for how I hurt you in the past. You have every reason to doubt me, every reason to fear that I’ll hurt you again. I hate that I have put these fears into your heart, but believe me when I say that I will never hurt you again.”

He pushed a strand of damp hair out of your face.

“You are it for me, you understand? What we almost were– the distance, the separation– I can’t live like that. There is not a future I want that does not have you in it. I am yours– completely. Forever.”

You choked out a laugh. Relief and happiness flooded your senses. Bucky smiled brilliantly at your reaction. Before, he let you control the moment, but now with his hand caressing your cheek he seemed to not be able to help himself. He tipped your face upwards as he kissed you passionately. It was as if he was answering you again.

I love you. I am yours. Forever.

You let yourself be weak. You melted against him, letting his other arm wrap around you and hold you closer to him, almost cradling you. You ran a hand through his hair and the sound he made against your mouth in response warmed your stomach like a fire.

Suddenly, he was picking you up, and carrying you slowly to the bathroom. You could still hear the running water coming from the shower, and the steam from the bathroom felt thicker and thicker the closer he brought you. You were a bit shocked when he sat you down on the counter, his lips never leaving yours as he did so. Once he finally pulled apart, from you, he kissed your forehead.

“May I?” he asked in a thick voice. His hands lingered on the hem of your shirt.

You lifted your arms in response. He slowly removed your wet shirt and tossed it with his. He remained silent as his fingers grazed the shoulder strap of your bra. His eyes were dark as he roamed your body, but he stopped, waiting for you to stop him, if you wanted. You just smiled at him, and pulled him in for a swift kiss.

“I love you, and I trust you,” you murmured against his mouth.

He was gentle in all of his movements. You weren’t sure what to expect, but you allowed him to do what he wanted. He took his time undressing you, removing your soaked clothes, peppering your skin with light kisses. Then he removed his soaked clothes. The sight of him made your body tremble. He must have noticed your reaction because he chuckled as he pulled you into the shower with him. He didn’t touch you– not in the way that you thought he wanted to, rather, he bathed you. It was a different kind of intimate moment. He took his time washing your hair, using his fingers to massage your temples. He lathered up a loofa, and gently scrubbed away the rain and sand from your skin.

You stood there, leaned up against him as he took care of you. Soft sounds escaped your mouth as he washed you, the feeling of his hands on you made yourself dizzy. When he finished with you, you returned the favor. He murmured sweet nothings as you massaged his hair. He wrapped his arms around your waist and just held you. The moment was too tender, too sweet to do anything other than clean each other– to take care of each other. It seemed to be enough for the two of you. To just be there, caring for each other in the most intimate way possible.

Once the water ran cold, finally, the two of you wrapped each other in towels, giggling like school kids as Bucky carried you down the stairs into the living room. The two of you curled up on the couch and enjoyed the warmth being close to one another brought. Bucky brushed through your hair as the two of you caught up with each other. You outlined what your life had been away from the team, and Bucky mentioned what he had been up to, starting with his breakup with Nadia. It was odd. How easy it was to return to this. As if the past few months had been just a distant memory.

As you leaned your head against Bucky’s chest, his hands wrapped around your waist as the storm was beginning to subside and the sun was setting. You felt your eyelids droop with exhaustion. Bucky kissed the top of your head, his arms securing you in his embrace.

“If I fall asleep, will you still be here when I wake up?” you murmured as you nestled your head on him.

He gave a soft chuckle as he pulled your discarded reading blanket around your body. He kissed your cheek a few times, then trailed them down your neck. Your eyelids fluttered shut, and you felt a small grin spread on your face. He knew what he was doing. He was answering you, even now, but he still spoke as you drifted off into a deep sleep.

“I’ll be here love,” he murmured, “I’ll always be here.”

[megantrancyfanfics]

Shower thrills| Akaza x demon female reader

Warning: rough shower sex, dirty talk, possession,praise, pet names, spanking, choking, creampie.

⚠️Some themes can be disturbing to some. Read at your own risk⚠️

Tags: @animupiglett

Notes: Thank you guys for 600+ followers it means so much to me I wish I could hug all of you🥺💜💜 but like- last time I looked I was at 500 then I went to finish this draft and I seen a 6 and I was like 😦 but fr thank you it means a lot. I also might make this into a series with some hashira but don’t hold me to it! Thank all of you for waiting on me to post. A lot of things have happened in my life and I’ve been healing. Today I got my haircut and I feel like a whole new person💜

Enjoy💗

~~~~~~~~~~~

Ah, the warmth of the water from your shower seemed to wash all the stress away. Your head back, eyes closed: this was the most relaxed you’ve felt in days.

When a hard chest came in contact with your back and sneaky muscular arms made their away around you, you let out a gasp. Your lover was freezing.

“Aww darlin did I scare you?” He asked kissing your shoulder.

“No, you’re cold as fuck.”

“Sorry my love, it’s cold outside, and a warm shower with the love of my life sounded absolutely heavenly.” He spoke softly as you turned to face him. Some water bouncing off your chest and splashing him. “How was your day? Did everything go ok at the meeting with you know who today?”

“Yes it did. It was after the meeting that made me stressed out.” You said with a sigh. “Doma kept hitting on me and trying to get me to come home with him.”

“Oh? Is that so?” His voice had a tone to it that sent chills down your spine. This isn’t the first time doma had bothered you, despite knowing Akaza and you were in a relationship.

“I swear if I could kill that man I would. How dare he hit on you.” He let out a sigh., his shoulders relaxing. “You do know you’re mine, right darling?” He asked softly, gently tracing your cheek with his knuckles making you blush.

“Yes, only yours Akaza.”

It started out slow and sensual. Akaza kissing around you neck, collarbone, and jawline, but once his lips met yours, his whole demeanor changed. The kiss rough and hungry. Hands roaming your body like you’re his prey.

“You’re mine. It pisses me off every time you tell me that asshole hit on you. He should know by now that you belong to me. You’re my angel and no one else’s.”

Next thing you know, you’re moved to the side, your back pressed up against the cold tile wall. 2 of akaza’s fingers pushed themselves into your cunt, his thumb placed on your cunt. With each thrust of his fingers his thumb rubbed your clit.

Dirty praises fell from his lips as he enjoyed watching you fall apart over just his fingers. He’s obsessed with feeling your walls tighten against his fingers. The way it wants to keep them inside. He loved hearing your whines and whimpers as he draws you closer to your high. He can’t help but to kiss your jawline, feeling your chest heave as you let out a gasp.

“That’s it baby let it out good girl.” He praises as he slows his pace as you ride out your high.

“What a good girl. My good girl.” He mumbles against your jaw with a final kiss before turning you around.

A hard smack landed on your ass, a gasp escaping from your chest hitting the cold tile and the force of the smack.

Akaza spit in his hand, giving his dick a few strokes before slowly going inside. A small moan escaped both of your lips when Akaza finally bottomed out. Your pussy being stretched so deliciously.

“It doesn’t matter how many times I ruin this pussy it’ll always feel so good to me.” His movements start out slow, before his thrusts become hard, quick, his only mission is to abuse the tip of your cervix, make you scream his name, and cream all over his cock the way he loves.

Moans filling the bathroom as your voice echoes off the tile.

“Such a pretty voice you have darling.” He comments before another harsh slap lands on your ass.

Akaza could start feeling his mind slip. Your pussy tightening around him, signaling you were close. He was close as well. He wasn’t going to cum this early, no way.

“For a demon you have such a heavenly pussy princess.”

“Akaza” you were able to whimper out before coating his cock in the slick he loves.

“That’s a good girl.” He says, never slowing his pace. Was he doing it to overstimulate you or himself? With each passing moment he feels like he could explode. Even though you just came you’re still clamping down hard on his cock. He’s going crazy. He knows he can hurt you if he isn’t careful. So he tries to limit what he does with you. Yeah, you’re a demon and you can just regenerate or heal whatever Akaza inflicts onto you, but he just can’t hurt a hair on your head.

Eventually, the bathroom is filled with one more voice: Akaza. His grunts and soft moans begin also bouncing off the walls. The grip on your hips tight enough that if you were a mere human they would be broken.

“A-Akaza I want you to cum inside me.” You whimper out, your hips trying to match his thrusts, another high quickly approaching.

“D-don’t speak like that.” He grunts, a hand clasping onto your throat tight enough to crush your windpipe.

You have no idea what has made Akaza like this but you’re not complaining.

“P-please” your able to choke out, akaza’s grip tightening, only releasing when you let out a gasp, air not being able to fill your body, making Akaza quickly remove his hand, landing a slap onto your ass before returning his grip back to your hip.

“Fuck it. Beg for what you want.” Akaza demands, his thrusts getting sloppy as your sent over the edge once again, your voice loud, as you beg for Akaza to fill you up.

“Such a naughty bitch. You’ll get what you want darlin-ah” you’re pushed up against the tile more, as you feel thick, hot ropes of akaza’s cum entering you.

“I-I hope that fucker will be able to smell my scent on you.” He says with a chuckle, turning your back to face him as you tumble forward. Of course your lover catches you. Your head resting on his chest as your legs shake.

“I bet he will..for at least 2 months.” You both giggle, Akaza scanning over your body to see indents on the sides of your neck and hips. He runs his hand through your wet hair.

“Are you hurting angel?” You shook your head no.

Akaza smiled, turning off the water and helping you out before helping you with your nightly routine before the both of you climbing into bed and cuddling.

“Are you sure you’re not hurting?”

“I’m fine Akaza. Those marks will be gone in a few hours. Don’t let those marks make you not be rough on me again. I liked it.”

“I’m so glad.” He says softly before kissing your forehead.

As he closed his eyes, he analyzed what you had just said, a soft gasp escaping his lips as he looked down at you.

“Y/n! You dirty girl! Maybe you’re more of a demon than I give you credit for.”

End

[irenadel]

Pygmalion.

Chapter 4. She rose to his requirement, dropped the playthings of her life.

This chapter gutted me so once more, no beta we die like suicidal teenagers, set after the fateful murder/suicide of “The Only Man In The Sky" The slow burn up and turned the fuck on. We have smut, I repeat we have smut. It's not the smut we need maybe, but it's the smut I deserve. Homelander still needs a friend tho.

Chapter 1. That she, dear she, might take some pleasure of my pain Chapter 2. We sat grown quiet at the name of love Chapter 3. He touched me, so I live to know that such a day, permitted so

He knew you could feel your phone vibrating (the newest, most expensive thing you owned since a harried Vought assistant had delivered it to your door), both because he could hear your heart speeding up in anticipation and because, through the flimsy barrier of your store’s concrete roof and thin ceiling tiles, he could see your hand fly to your back pocket. He was also able to catch a glimpse of the brief pull of your exasperated smile.

He needs you to stop fucking smiling and hurry it up, he thinks almost fondly.

Unfortunately, that quick grin costs you. Whatever goddamn idiot you are trying to service seems to think you are laughing at him (you should, he thinks, rolling his eyes, bored already) and that sets your customer off. And for a second, Homelander is almost pleased by that cocksucker screaming at you. It serves you right. Because you’ve been WASTING your time (his time) and kindness (HIS kindness, HIS rightful property) on the fucking undeserving mud. He’s had to hear you speak to this pathetic, daft old man in the same cheerful, soothing voice you use for HIM. You’ve been smiling at this idiot with that stupid, sickly-sweet (wonderful) smile of yours (his! his by right!) and he, for one, is fucking fed up with it.

It catches him off-guard when you start to cry. The anger comes first, surprising in its suddenness because he’s become so unused to anger when you’re around. But goddamn it, you cry so easily! It’s frankly embarrassing. He feels it hot and indignant and nauseous in the pit of his belly, like he imagines being sick must be like. Cannot decide who this anger is for: you, your stupid job or that idiot trying to apologize. He wants to break something about this, he is going to BREAK that asshole as soon as you stop your sniveling—

“Hey!” Your manager (insignificant, pathetic and completely outside of Homelander’s scope of possibilities) steps in between you and the half-irate, half-apologetic customer (“I was just telling her I didn’t need a fucking online profile! She doesn’t have to get so fucking worked up!”). His authority is immediate and definite and Homelander feels the alien white-hot burn of envy. “You can leave, sir. Customers who speak like that to my people are not welcome here. Goodbye.”

He hugs you and calls you something in Spanish that makes Homelander bristle in outrage. Sends you to your overdue lunch and you are so pathetically grateful it makes him ill.

It’s not right. It is, in fact, obscenely wrong. He feels strangely and absurdly robbed and considers flying off to leave you fending for yourself. It would serve you right if he did. You would have certainly earned it, missy—

Except you don’t quite make it to the roof. You stop on the last couple of stairs, settle your stupid little packed lunch and sit down, face hiding between your knees. You don’t cry anymore, Homelander would have known if you did, you just take deep, gulping breaths… 

He feels stupid for a moment… Then he decides he’ll be damned if he lets you rob him of your tears as you had robbed him of your gratitude.

He breaks the roof’s lock and crushes its alarm mechanism before you have time to even turn his way, let alone protest, and takes advantage of your shock (seriously misplaced, you should know better by now) to sweep his cape out of the way and settle theatrically by your side.

“So… what’s for lunch?” He tries, offering you his best camera-worthy grin and you take the bait for a second before bursting into tears again. You’re such a pain, Homelander thinks, pleased as you, at long last, fall into his arms and let him be your hero. What would you do without him?

Probably bore someone else with your little complaints.

It turns out that what’s for lunch is leftover Thai from Lumlum on 49th between 9th and 10th for him and a salad with shredded chicken and (in his opinion) an excess of bell peppers for you. Homelander is equal parts annoyed and flattered by the leftovers, carefully curated from your dinner last night with the only one among your pathetic friends who can actually afford to eat out. It’s not too spicy, I could stand it and I’m shit at spicy curries, you tell him confidently and he relents solely because he enjoys your endless attempts to get him to eat new things.

You’re still weepy, but Homelander is pleased to see that the city sun, his own marvelous self, and the well-worn routine of your lunch hour has finally made you relax enough to fill the empty spaces with your chatter.

You’ve been doing this since you started going back to work full time at the end of your semester. You bring enough lunch for two and he, Homelander, lets you bask in his presence for one glorious hour of your ordinary life. He sees it as a sort of charity work, given how much it perks you up, no doubt massively improving your day.

Sometimes you talk. Well, most of the time. You talk a lot. It was… unsettling, the way you would get him to spill whatever it was that bothered him. He would start with complaints about Ashley and the incompetent board at Vought and then he would be telling you about Stan Edgar, or god forbid, Vogelbaum. (Or at least a version of Vogelbaum… one you could understand.)

You always had something interesting to say.

“… I get it… sometimes you wish they’d done something that left scars then you’d feel like it was real. Like it counted.”

And then he’d be paralyzed with sympathy and longing. Like he’d almost reached something, some important bit of understanding that had eluded him. Like there was a physical thing between you, tying the two of you together. You’d have found a better way to say it.

Today, you sounded more tired than outraged. He did not like the defeat in your voice.

“… it’s not that I want it to stop… it’s just that it grinds you down, and I don’t know if it’ll ever get better… if it’ll ever stop being so hard and I’m so sick of trying.”

Something like alarm bells pulse through his veins and in a panic-stricken moment he grabs for your wrists (leaving bruises you will later ignore, because by now you have ignored every other warning sign), holds you away from him like you could burn him (hurt him, by means he has only just begun to understand). You don’t seem to grasp the depths of it, just a bare glimpse of the animal fear that had gripped him for a second, and try, immediately, to diffuse it as best as you can.

“Jesus don’t look at me like that, I don’t mean that, I mean… you know?” But there’s that tired look of defeat on you again, like even complaining takes too much effort, as you gesture at your own body (soft, so soft and comfortable in his arms he suddenly wishes he’d had thought to hold you again instead). “Eat right, exercise, work, study, don’t forget to create shit to stay sane… And it feels like none of it truly matters. Like I’m fighting all the time, just fighting against the weight of my own unimportance… my deep, profound smallness… ideas like everyone else, dreams like everyone else, nothing new, nothing relevant… just waves and waves of remembering how fucking unremarkable I truly am…”

He finds it so surprising he laughs at you. Doesn’t even let you process the hurt before he’s barreling on.

“You’re such a silly goose! Of course you feel like that!” And he’s become so used to the comfort of your understanding and lack of judgment that he doesn’t even think to cushion the blow. “You’re all just so insignificant. Just mud really. It’s so hard to find any of you that matter.”

And he’s not looking at your face, because he’s too busy looking at his hands on your arms and wondering how the soft give of your flesh would feel without his gloves. He’s not thinking of your face, or the bitter grimace of betrayal in it, and that is what saves you both, that there is no premeditation to what he says to you next. It comes out raw and true.

“But you matter. You matter to me. That makes you more important than anyone else.”

***

“Please tell me that you’re fucking him,” your roommate says wheeling her chair into the elevator, finally, at long last repaired and miraculously functional for the last couple of weeks. Management seemed to have gotten competent at something. “Sex makes it normal. Sex is nuts and still pretty dumb but understandable at least!”

You walk in behind her and spend the rest of the way to your apartment trying to explain how it isn’t like that with you and Homelander. You’re friends. You have lunch together every day because it’s nice. You talk about your life and his idiot politics because it’s fun to rile him up. You’ve shown him your drawings cause he asked (cause he’s the first guy in a long time who has shown any interest in them, watched you watercolor intently while he rambles on about himself and whatever petty drama is going on in the Seven, winced when you use too much pigment and clicked his tongue in surprise when you recover by using tissue paper, like it’s a soccer match or something).

Not like that at all… but somehow so much better.

You throw your stuff on your ratty old couch and turn on American Hero both because your roommate likes it and because if you don’t, Homelander will be sulking about it the whole week. God knows how long you spent coaching his atrocious Spanish accent and you intend to spend even more time making fun of his bad attempt to welcome Supersonic into the Seven. (Try not to think about his promise to you. Try not to make it personal and sappy and meaningful that his stupid Mexican ass in his stupid Puerto Rican costume got chosen.)

“God, wish they’d let Queen Maeve host American Hero at some point. She’d be killer at it… You know,” your roommate says from the kitchen while she’s making popcorn. “Sex would be better than you being friendzoned by fucking Homelander.”

“That’s not what—”

“Oh come on! Even you’ve got to be wondering when he’s officially gonna ask you out!”

You say nothing because you’ve got nothing to say. Because you’ve wondered about it and you hate that you have. And you also know how unfair it is. Because his ex-girlfriend (the fucking nazi) just killed herself a few weeks ago. And he was here having a panic attack about it. Because you’re not sure you want it yourself. He still scares you sometimes and you don’t know if that’s the kind of thing you could live with. He’s hurt you before… it gets easy to forget but somehow you haven’t quite managed to. Sometimes he will tell you something that makes you google whether you’re a mandatory reporter in the state of New York. Sometimes he will tell you something that makes your heart ache for him, your alarm bell blair, makes you want to ask him are you happy? Do you want to live like this? You don’t have to… But that’s not the sort of thing a girl who just met him can ask. Especially a girl who is still unsure of what you are to each other or whether she can be anything to him at all.

After all, watching Starlight on TV, blonde and perfect, you wonder how she can stand the terror of being looked at all the time. And that’s what him asking you out would mean. Being looked at all the goddamn time. And no matter how much weight you lose or how many times you go to work or university in roller skates instead of taking the bus, how many YWCA yoga classes you take… you know you’re not the kind of girl people like to look at all the time. Beautiful, angry men who fall out of the sky don’t date frizzy-haired, over-educated, pudgy nobodies. And if they do, people tend not to like it.

Still, he said you mattered. He said it with no hesitation. He meant it.

“I think… we’re taking it slow,” you admit to your roommate and to yourself as you take the bowl of popcorn from her. She looks surprised for a second and then smiles at you and you find yourself smiling back as you settle down to watch the end.

“I get it but,” she says in mock exasperation. “It’s glacial and I want my Queen Maeve VIP passes now.”

You both burst out laughing so hard that you almost miss it. His shit-eating grin that you can never admit you love so much. His dumb red gloved hand that you’ve held in your own before, sneaking around Starlight’s shoulder. She’s my girl now. Come again, you want to ask. Because you don’t quite understand. Because you must have heard wrong. Can’t keep it a secret anymore.

In love.

Your roommate stares at you and it’s not the almost immediate fury and shout of fucking Homelight my ass! that gets you. It’s not the immediate speculation from the voice over, or Homelander kissing Starlight on the lips while your roommate screams motherfucker! at the screen. All of that you could have withstood, maybe not with grace or civility but at least without falling apart. But it’s that brief yet still too long moment of utter pity on your roommate’s face when she looks at you, that makes you stand up without a word and lock yourself in your room, while she knocks on your door and says things you don’t understand about you being a thousand times better than him. Being well rid of him. Fuck him. You’ll be fine

I used to think love could give me significance, back when I dated, you had told him once and he had made a face like he’d swallowed a lemon and told you unequivocally, what bullshit that was. Love does nothing. Love fixes nothing. You either matter or you don’t. You’re important or you’re a nobody.

And yet, it seemed just a few short days ago he’d said you mattered. Homelander had looked directly at you, no trace of guile in his stupid face, just fond exasperation. As if you had been silly to ask, silly to doubt it for a second. You matter to me.

Not enough. Apparently not enough.

***

He should’ve known it from the very first shitty excuse. He’d been focusing on the important things, hadn’t had time for whatever fucking bullshit had made you start acting so weird. He just didn’t have any time for this. He’d needed you there for him through this difficult time and suddenly you were…

Gone. Unavailable. Busy.

First it had been ridiculous errands that couldn’t have been important in any way. He’d gotten Ashley to install fucking washing machines in your building and left a Vought credit card with you in spite of your fucking tiresome protests because he was sick of you being at the goddamn library consulting books you could just fucking buy, wasting your time talking to god knows who, stupid excuses like you were drawing at the library with friends. Who fucking goes to the library to draw? (And who the fuck would go hang out with friends when they had Homelander as an option?)

Then, it was missing lunch at work. Lots of customers. Something about summer and people having more time to browse while shopping and needing to make more sales because you were saving up for the semester.

He’d put his foot down with that. He’d fucking had enough. Because you’d said it without looking at him, your pulse racing, your palms sweating and he had known, known instantly that you were lying. Like everyone lied to him. Struggled to hide the hurt it caused him and cornered you in the back of the store instead, slammed his hand right besides your face making the concrete crack and told you (because he could, because he should, because what he had said to Starlight had been true, if all he could have from you was fear then fear it would be) that you could figure it out with that fucking asshole manager of yours or he would figure it out for you.

And his stomach burned when he’d seen you fight to hold back tears while you nodded stupidly at him. Because you hadn’t held back tears in front of him in ages. Because he’d suddenly wanted to grab you and shake you until you’d cry and let him hold you through it the way it was supposed to work.

You never missed lunch again.

And suddenly it’s not enough. Because you’re not there. You look out into the sky when you should be looking at him. You sound distracted and irritable when you should be fucking glad. You were always so fucking glad to see him. And he wants to toss you aside, fine by him if you want to be like this. You can rot for all he cares.

Except your silences taste like tears. Like the moist, fragile quality of your brown eyes looking at him when you think he doesn’t notice. It’s nothing like the acrid taste of Madelyn’s nervous deception, or the adrenaline spiked rush of Stormfront’s passionate delusions. It’s sharp and bitter and full of sleepless nights.

He knows because he’s gone to your room when you are not there. To catch the smell of the sour-sweet cortisol of your insomnia. Had considered breaking your things in a rage, uprooting your plants, throwing your books into the harbor. (Can’t bring himself to lay hands on you again and this would be the next best thing) But all he manages is to lose himself in the telltale aroma of salt on your pillows. Where you’d laid together. Where you’d said he was your hero. He doesn’t know what the fuck is wrong with you. Suspects it’s these friends you keep having to see, their offensive scent all over your unmade bed. Confusing and alien, too many fucking people in your life that have no business taking up what should be HIS time. Sometimes your goddamn roommate, sometimes some unknown man, or a girl, caked cheap makeup and peroxide and hair spray. Not your smell, oatmeal soap and clean sweat…

He burrows into the pillows and thinks of tearing your sheets to pieces. Would serve you right. He should incinerate the whole bed and everything in it and—

Oh. Oh.

He pushes himself off the bed like it burns him, because he hadn’t expected this, has no framework to place it in. It doesn’t belong here, with you. Because underneath all the extraneous scents, and the other more familiar ones, the dust, the damp earth of your plants and the parchmenty sharpness of your books, there’s the thick, tangy smell of your sex. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. I mean you’re a red-blooded Ame— woman. It’s only natural you should— He shifts uncomfortably on your bed, over-conscious of the knowledge that you’d rubbed one out in the same bed where you sometimes lay down to watch a movie (one of his movies) with him.

He doesn’t move towards it, not really. Just lays back down on your bed and breathes deeply. He tries to think of nothing, indulging in not even the slightest movement. Almost smiles before the intrusion of the sudden, furious thought that your fun might have been not entirely solitary makes him clench his fists so hard the leather of his gloves creaks ominously. You fucking invite so many fucking assholes to this bed it might be hiding in the smell of one of them. (It would explain it, would clear up everything, a reason for your distance that would be simple to fix) He should put a stop to it. No more friends. No more library. No more conversational French meetups. No more Central Park or roller skating to occupy your time. Just your job. Just the important part. Just him.

And he is suddenly, surprisingly, furiously hard, still breathing deeply of you. Cheap shampoo, corner-store deodorant, cotton panties and thick, potent female arousal… but no bitter scent of male cum anywhere in the cacophony of your bed’s smells.

Not yet anyway.

You must have been thinking about him when you did this. Of course. Of course. Your crush was painfully transparent, even if he hadn’t had the telltale spike of your heartbeat every time you saw him. So stupid of you. So silly and earnest, to want the impossible fantasy of your hero. He was almost sorry for you, because it must have been so difficult to see him day in and day out, not knowing what to say or do, wanting him…

And he finds himself facedown on your unmade bed, hands grabbing handfuls of your sheets, because it’s either that or touch himself, and he will be damned if he capitulates in this, like he’s done with everything else around you. He’s so hard it hurts. Erection sandwiched painfully between his body and the soft give of your mattress. A sudden, crystal clear image pops up in his head: your soft, thick thighs and one of your sweet little hands between them. And he’s grinding against the bed, almost without meaning too, almost without permission from his brain, because his face is shoved against what had been the wet spot of your bed and he holds his jaw shut so tightly it’s nearly painful, lest he be tempted to sneak a taste.

The smell is enough, more than enough, as he lets his hips go, imagining you whispering Homelander, Homelander against your bed. You’d sob like he’d heard you sob before, maybe cry a little, but happily this time. Ecstatic transported like that day at the lake. You, soaked in his arms, soaked in more ways than one, smiling at him.

He’s cumming, long and drawn out, with each snap of his hips against your mattress, pounding against it, eyes scrunched shut as if in pain, barely a gasp behind clenched teeth, erection pressed so hard against the bed it almost hurts. He’ll think about it later. It’s enough for the moment, enough to dissipate it all.

He very nearly forgives you.

He’s still laying on your bed when you come back home, still breathing heavily, head blissfully blank, the squelching mess of his own cum inside his suit making him feel so dirty and ashamed he’s already beginning to sport a brand new stiffy. He should’ve heard you come in all the way from the elevator landing. He had, if he was honest with himself. But had also found himself stuck in defiant paralysis, half of him ready to bolt, half of him willing to be caught sprawled on your bed, hand shoved down his pants, just to make you responsible for whatever this was. There was something terribly appealing about you, inattentive, absentee traitor that you were, having to get home and watch him jerk off where you had. Not being able to look away. Not being able to lie about it. Not being able to leave him.

But he does neither.

And when he hears you open your bedroom’s door and call to someone behind you “I’ll be right there! Let me just leave my things!” he is immediately overcome by a raging irritation that does nothing to alleviate the embarrassment of his still lingering arousal. Some fucking library you had to go to! The fucking sort of library that answers “Sure!” in a sweet baritone…

Two things register first. You’re wearing the Homelander branded varsity jacket he got you and your hair is green. Not even fucking blue or red, fucking deep emerald green, clashing gloriously with the colors on your jacket, freshly dyed apparently, lovingly curled for once instead of your usual frizzy mess. He hates it on sight. Hates it because you did not consult him on it. Because you hadn’t thought about him at all when deciding to do something so stupid looking. You had probably been thinking about whoever was on the other side of your ratty, disgusting apartment. Oh he’s going to let him and you know. Oh you’ve gotten yourself in so much trouble…

Except you also look so miserable and exhausted he could swear you’re about to drop.

“… hey,” you say uncertainly. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

He doesn’t want to think of this, of the fluttering of your tired pulse, and the dryness of your tightly-held lips. He refuses to feel sorry for you. You should be the one begging his forgiveness.

“Weeeell,” he barrels on with a strained, too-wide smile. “You did fucking tell me to drop whenever. Maybe you shoulda thought to put a schedule to that, huh? Maybe when you’re not entertaining. Who’s your fucking friend?”

He hates that you step back. He hates that you don’t even look scared, not really. He smells the tears before they drop from your eyes, before you hang your head in unbearable pain, holding your own sweet arms to your stomach like that can keep your insides from spilling out.

“I can’t. I can’t do it anymore. Please leave.”

And that does hit him like a gut punch, like the physical blow he has never experienced. He reaches for the comforting rage and finds nothing but gaping emptiness. Because nothing you say or do ever sounds right to him. You never give him the right cue cards, the well known scripts… you never let him do what he knows. Homelander may have expected rejection but not this open, wounded mourning. Not you grabbing hold of a wall to lower yourself on the floor while you can’t stop looking at him like he’s the one that has dismissed you. Like you can’t stand to tear your eyes off him now that he’s here.

Fuck you. And your easy tears. And that look of betrayal that should have belonged to him.

“You? YOU?! You can’t do THIS anymore?! And what is THIS exactly, missy? Huh? What kind of fucking performing monkey do you think I am to you? Think that you can have me here whenever you want and out the door when it’s not to your fucking convenience? Oh no, no you don’t. You don’t get to tell me when to fucking go–”

And it takes the bottom out from under him when you choke back “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Because your pulse is racing and you are afraid. He can see it in the tension of your shoulders and every time you flinch when he shouts. But when you bury your face in your hands, it’s more of those awful, gulping tears and more I’m sorries that he somehow believes you mean.

“I can’t be your friend anymore. I just can’t.”

He had not known this would hurt as it did. He thought he’d known the worst of it when Ryan had walked away from him. When Stormfront had left him when he most needed her. When Madelyn had lied to him. He didn’t know how the truth could hurt so much worse. The truth that all the others had neglected to speak to him, at least you have the guts to say it to his face. He’d always thought he’d have enough pride to face it head on, hadn’t known he would have to bite back bile and the thin, reedy pleading boy he somehow still harbored inside him. Please. I’ll be better. I’ll be good. Please don’t do this.

“I can’t stand it…” You get formal when you’re in pain, like you forget the casual ease of your adopted language and country. Like you want as much distance between the two of you. “I can’t stand looking at you. I’ve tried… I’ve tried so hard…”

And he’s the one who can’t look at you, nauseous and adrift, hands almost curling into fists, almost reaching for your shoulders so he can shake some sense into you, so he can tear you in two before he lets you keep hurting him like this. And he does, he does grab a handful of each fleshy shoulder, fights his own grimace of pain and the part of himself that has every right to demand he bang your head against your bedroom wall until you’ll stop talking, stop leaving, just stop.

You don’t know. He wants so badly to tell you, to show you how close to destruction you are, how little you matter, how easy you would be to snuff out. But whatever it is that is going through your silly little head, it makes you reach back to him, touch his face once and then recoil like he could burn you (he can and he will), like he disgusts you, like he—

“I can’t stand having to look at you and not have you. Please leave. I can’t be your friend when I feel like this about you.”

[ilguna]

hii could i get 1 & 4 from prompt list 3 with finnick odair thankss 💕

☼ compromise (Finnick Odair) ☼

warnings; swearing,

wc; 1.1k

prompt: 1. "For you, I would do anything." AND 4. "I'll give you anything. I'll give you everything. All you have to do is ask."

–

Leave it up to Finnick to make today as difficult as humanly possible.

It’s a bad day, you two already know this. You also know that he’s trying to prevent it from becoming a worse day for the both of you, by doing everything he can to make you change your mind. If he can convince you not to volunteer at the reaping today, then he gets what he wants, and you don’t have to put your life in danger.

The way he’s going about it is all wrong. If he wanted to convince you, he should’ve started months ago, to slowly ease the idea into your mind. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s done that to you and it’s worked. You think that he started to go that route, until he ran out of patience and decided to save his fight for the last minute.

You’re due to leave for the stage in less than an hour, and he’s not letting you get ready.

He must’ve had every event this morning planned in advance, because no matter what path you decide, what step you take, how you switch up your routine—he’s prepared. It’s getting irritating, because regardless of your decision, you have to be on that stage on time, or the both of you will get in trouble.

You’re not normally a victor known for their punctuality, anyway. Sometime after you won you started being a few minutes late to every function they pre-organized for you, to show everyone around you that they could not expect you at a certain time. That you refused to be held up to this spectacular standard and eventually be dropped when you made a mistake.

However, it was stressed to you repeatedly by Mags, that under no circumstances, were you allowed to be late.

You think you’re going to blow a fuse.

You let out a sigh, Finnick looks up from where he’s staring at the floor. He’s leaning up on the bathroom counter, in front of all the drawers you need to get into if you want to brush your teeth, do your hair, put on makeup. You’ve stalled the process by setting out your clothes, hoping that he’d move, but his feet are locked on those two tiles.

“Finnick, move.” You tell him, arms crossed over your chest.

“It’s not happening, (Y/n), I’m not letting you volunteer. You have to stay here, in District Four.”

You take in a breath, shaking your head, “I need to start getting ready now, if we plan on being on time. We can talk about this as I get ready.” You point to the side to get him to move. “I’m serious, Finnick. Get out of the way.”

“Should’ve started earlier.” He shrugs, “I’m ready, there’s really no excuse.”

“You’ve been up since four to make sure you could sabotage me the entire morning!” You shout, “I would’ve been done by now and we would be having our conversation.”

“We can have it now.”

You know why he’s doing this. He’s stressing you out on purpose by fucking with your schedule so that you’ll agree to his conditions to get a move on. He knows that it’s not him that has a reputation for being late, it’s you. He’s always on time, which means that he can easily blame your absence on you.

It’s not going to work this time.

You stare at him for a long moment, coming to terms with the fact that you’ll have to comb your fingers through your hair on the way to the Justice Building. You were really hoping you’d be able to pull it out of your face, especially with how hot it’s been in District Four lately. 

Finnick can try to ruin your plans, but you’re not going to let him win.

You leave the bathroom, heading into the bedroom to get dressed. It’s a pair of black jeans and a flowy green top. You tuck it into the jeans, and return to the closet in the bathroom to grab your shoes and a silver belt to hold the jeans in place.

When Finnick sees that you’re working around him, again, he sighs through his nose. If he wants stubborn, he can have stubborn. As well as all the nasty things you’re thinking about him right now, because this is unbelievable.

“(Y/n).”

You ignore him, pulling on your half socks and black shoes. You fix your hair in the mirror as much as possible, and then begin walking out of the bathroom. 

“You’re really going to leave like that?” He asks.

You turn to look at him, “You haven’t left me much of a choice, have you? Are you ready to go?”

“(Y/n), all I’m asking is for you to stay here, it’s not even that much.”

“No, you’re asking me to sit by while you go inside of an arena that’s designed to kill everyone, and leave me behind because you can’t fathom the idea of me being there.” You throw your hands up, “But Mags is different?”

“For you, I would do anything.” He tells you, “Including asking Mags to volunteer for you, and Librae to mentor, because I want you to be safe. I don’t know what’s going to happen there, and neither do you. And all I do know is that it’d be safer for you to be here.”

“That’s not true.”

“How can you know?” Finnick asks. “I’ll give you anything, like giving you my life. I’ll give you everything, by fighting in an arena and coming back alive so we have a chance at peace. I know you have something in mind, babe. All you have to do is ask.”

“Stay with me.” It’s an order, not an ask, “That’s what I want. Don’t leave me here alone.”

Finnick tilts his head, his eyes locked with yours. He won’t tell you that he can’t do that, because he feels a calling to this arena. He’s told you a hundred times that it feels right to go in. You can’t convince him to stay, but if he’s going to inflict wounds, then you will too.

“I’m going to mentor.” You tell him, “Librae and I already talked about that possibility.” He opens his mouth to talk, you cut him off: “It’s that, or I volunteer.”

His face relaxes, his shoulders falling, “Okay.”

[greetingfromthedead]

Ignorance Brings Bliss (Vash x F!Reader)

Series: Draconic Lust

Pairing: Vash x F!Reader

Word count: 2.6k

Author's Note: Shamelessly reposting this since it flew completely under the radar last time.

ATTENTION: If this is your first time checking out Draconic Lust, be sure to read the information provided in the Masterlist!

Tags/TW: no use of "y/n", AU - dragon shifters, succubus!reader, smut, NSFW, big cock, reader is a dumbass, Vash is also a dumbass, horns as handlebars, wet dress, clothed sex, Roman baths, sex in water, being pinned down, size kink, size difference, grinding, food play, fruit play, banana as dildo, inappropriate use of a doughnut, vaginal penetration, breast play, breast sucking, biting, oral sex, pussy eating, neck kissing, eating out, cunnilingus, tongue sex, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, wet and messy, forced orgasm, delayed orgasm

The large bath, which takes up most of the room, is filled with hot, clean water. On the other side, a small artificial waterfall flows into the bath. The space is filled with steam, a stark contrast to the other rooms you've been to that tend to be chilly. You sit on the little step built into the bath, relaxing and feeling the warmth seep into your bones. There are no such luxuries in the domain you come from.

A knock on the door interrupts your peaceful moment, and a grin appears on your lips.

"Don't be shy! Come in!" you call out.

The door opens slightly, and you see Vash, who had led you here in the first place. He carries a large tray with him, but it is too high for you to see. Over his arm, you see a fluffy robe that is not his size but should fit you fine.

"I brought you food! Some of my favorite things. I have sandwiches, a nice doughnut, and some fruit too! I didn't know what you would like," he says cheerfully and steps into the room.

"Food?" you inquire as you turn around in the water, kneeling on the step you sat on before. You lean your hands on the floor tiles, arching your back and sticking your chest out.

His eyes move to you, and he stops in his tracks, staring at you.

"I didn't think I needed to say it, but usually you would take off your clothes before getting in the bath," he comments with a tone of almost embarrassment. His eyes remain on the wet gray silk of the little dress you arrived in. It sticks to your skin, emphasizing your curves and breasts, coming to a peak at your aroused nipples. The fabric has become see-through, and your body is on full display. In your current position, the dress doesn't even cover your ass; the rippling water laps at your pussy.

"Don't worry about it. You can make it up to me by helping me take it off." You continue to grin at him and his slightly flustered expression, but you can sense the same kind of lust as you did last night.

Vash comes closer and crouches to put the tray on the floor next to you. He then slowly reaches out his hand to gently brush your cheek with his thumb, and your gaze moves from the tray back to him.

"I didn't know what you would like, so I brought extra." His eyes are kind, but they keep slipping from your face to your chest.

"This is quite the selection. I'm not sure what I'll do with all this," you say in confusion. "Fine, I'll just get started, and you can fill me in on the rest."

You sit up on the edge of the large bath, but leave your legs dangling in the water, spread apart. You smile mischievously and reach for the banana on the tray, picking it up and bringing it to your lips, licking over the smooth outside while keeping your eyes on the large man still crouching next to you. Vash's eyes are wide as your tongue teases along the yellow fruit until your lips close around the tip, all the while your other hand moves down along your wet dress to your pussy.

Vash swallows hard and watches intensely, his breathing becoming more ragged as you slip the unpeeled banana deeper into your mouth, much like you did with his cock before, but with a lot less trouble. He leans closer to you until his hands are on the warm tile, one knee touching the floor. His eyes are wide with desire, and you can tell he wants more.

You tease your folds with your fingers, circling your clit as you close your eyes and let out a hum of joy, barely audible over the sound in the room. His presence alone had turned on your waterworks, and you feel the wetness pooling between your thighs, aching for his touch. You can't help but imagine how good it would feel to have him inside you again, filling you up completely.

You pull the fruit from your mouth, strands of saliva hanging from it as you bring it to your lower lips, teasing the tip through your wet pussy. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, and you moan softly and teasingly, knowing he can hear you well.

"That's not…" he stammers, and you turn to look at him with half closed eyes.

"Sorry. You wanted to do it yourself?" You ask him, closing your legs enough to keep the banana between them, and you reach for one of his hands, taking the real one and guiding it back until you feel his fingers gripping the banana. His eyes are still wide as he settles in more, and he starts to tease you almost automatically with the fruit as soon as you spread your legs again.

"I didn't think you were so shy," you comment as you lean your face closer to his, guiding Vash's hand to slide the banana in through your entrance. "Or you had something else in mind?"

"I… thought you would eat it since you must be hungry…" he says, blushing deeply.

"Ah," you laugh, removing your hand from his to buck your hips lightly. "Sweetheart, I am a succubus; I don't need to eat. All I need is your lust. Fuck me, and I will be fed. All I want is to be full of cock and hear you moan."

You pick up a grape from the tray with the hand you used to tease yourself with and feed it to him, pushing your fingers past his lips until he bites down and sucks them clean. He settles next to you all the while continuing to fuck you with the curved fruit, teasing your insides with a much inferior substitute for what you really want. You remove your fingers from his mouth and pull his face closer to kiss him deeply on his lips, tasting the grape juice on his tongue that sweeps against yours. This pushes him off the edge, and he leans closer, pinning you against the floor with his large body, all while hastening the onslaught on your cunt.

You reach your arms around him, pulling on his red coat, wishing to have his naked body against you. His lips are urgent against yours as he continues to explore every inch of your mouth with his tongue. His lust burns bright, and his kisses move to your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You moan as the curved tip of the fruit teases your insides while his hand occasionally brushes over your slick folds and swollen clit.

He sucks on your neck, moving downward and pushing aside the wet silk that sticks to your breast. His warm tongue circles around your nipple until it gets even harder. He takes it into his mouth, sucking on your breast, moving his free hand to the other one, and leaning most of his weight into your smaller frame. His face digs into your tit as he moans softly with pleasure. You feel the vibrations against your skin and yelp as he bites down on the supple flesh, feeling a mixture of pain and pleasure while his other hand slams the fruit deeper into your pussy, twisting it while it's all the way in. You arch your back in ecstasy as much as you can, letting out a loud yell that gets mostly drowned out by the waterfall. You feel the intense rush of pleasure consume you as the fruit hits your sweet spot. Vash takes the hint and starts moving in and out again, all the while continuing to twist his hand with the fruit. You can't help but moan louder, unable to control the overwhelming sensations. Your legs shake and squirm, sending water flying from the bath, and Vash's body keeps the rest of you firmly pinned so you can't escape his touch. He sucks harder on your nipple, sending more pleasure downward. As your body trembles with pleasure, Vash's movements become more urgent, his grip on the fruit tightening as he brings you to the brink of ecstasy. The combination of his touch, his mouth on your nipple, and the sensation of being completely overwhelmed by pleasure pushes you over the edge into a mind-blowing climax that makes you dig your fingers into Vash's back. You come undone, throwing your head back and letting out a loud moan of delight while clamping down your legs around his hand.

He sits up more, letting go of your breast with a wet plop, and looks at you with a satisfied grin while you tremble on the floor, breathing heavily and clawing at the tiles now that he is out of reach. You keep pushing your thighs together as he removes his hand with the fruit and leaves it on the floor. You look disheveled as you are, one breast hanging out of the wet dress that has hiked up to your stomach.

"I think you need a bath," you say with your eyes still closed.

"I agree," he chuckles, and you hear him get on his feet, followed by the rustling of clothes. He drops the coat and shirt first, and you peek from between your eyelashes as he pushes down his pants, his massive erection springing free and bobbing in the air. You swallow heavily at the memories of last night, craving to have him fill you up again.

You close your eyes, relaxing a bit as you come down from your high and bask in the power lust gives you. The steam clings to your skin, making it hard to tell if you are wet or sweaty. You hear Vash's bare feet taking a few steps and then a small splash as he steps into the water. Another memory of last time comes to mind, and you reach towards the tray to pick up the pastry. It is covered in powdered sugar, and without looking toward Vash, you spread your legs apart again and place the doughnut between your thighs.

"How about you work your mysterious magic again?" You say and feel Vash's hands on your knees, pushing them further apart.

You know he understood as you feel the doughnut press more against you and his tongue laps at your sex through the center hole. You moan in pleasure and remove your hand as he keeps the pastry in place while he continues to tease you gently. Your heart races as his fingers dig into your thighs, and he lets out hums of enjoyment. You push up with your hands until you're halfway sitting and grab hold of the twisted horns on his head that you use to pull him even closer.

You see his pretty blue eyes look up from between your legs, the doughnut smushed against you. He is obedient as you maneuver him for your pleasure, his tongue expertly flicking against your sensitive skin. That's until the wet muscle glides along your entrance before pushing in. You feel the abnormally long tongue reach deep inside you, exploring every inch of your being with precision and skill. He releases your thighs, wrapping his long arms around your legs, his fingers now on your hips as you put your legs over his broad shoulders and pull him in closer still by the horns.

You both hum in pleasure as his mouth gets greedier. His tongue pulls from your core, and he takes a bite from the doughnut, kissing your clit each time he chews. He continues until the doughnut has disappeared, and you jolt each time he flicks your bundle of nerves with his lips. He draws his long tongue along your sex, savoring the sweet remnants of the sugar sticking to your skin. You can't help but moan in pleasure, arching your back and gripping the horns tighter, pulling his face into your sopping core. Vash's tongue continues to push through your folds, closing his eyes in enjoyment as his nose brushes against your clit. Occasionally, the tongue pushes inside you, only to then push flatly against your core again. He eats your pussy with hunger; he nibbles and sucks on your sensitive bud, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Your grip on his horns is tight and desperate as you lean back, mewling as he continues to devour you with a ravenous appetite. You arch your back and surrender to the intense pleasure, lost in the moment. The sensation of his skilled tongue flicking and swirling against your most sensitive areas is overwhelming, causing you to gasp and writhe against him. Every touch and every movement sends you closer to the edge of fulfillment, your body trembling as he expertly brings you to the brink of release. But he doesn't give in to your loud pleas for more, instead sliding his hands up your back and picking you up from the edge of the bath.

He looks up at your surprised expression as he turns around and sits down on the step in the water. He holds you and puts you down on his lap with your legs straddling his. The massive cock lays under you as he wraps his arms tightly around your waist and leans in to kiss you. His mouth on yours is intense and passionate. You can feel his desire for you as he deepens the kiss, making you ache for more of his touch. The tongue dancing with yours is insistent and commanding, leaving you breathless and yearning for more. You still hold on to the horns even as he pulls away.

You look down; the bath clearly wasn't made for someone his size, as the water that would reach your chest barely submerges his belly button. You feel a new surge of desire and longing for him as you watch the water gently ripple around his waist. Your pussy still aches with a throbbing need for him, tingling for him to finish the job he started with his tongue. You adjust your legs, bracing them against the tiled step, before using your whole body to grind on the massive cock that rests between your thighs. It settles against your wet lips, the protruding veins teasing you as you push off the bath and then pull yourself back by the horns. While you crave him inside you, this brings relief to the ache he made you feel. Your long strokes along his shaft make Vash moan your name in pleasure. He loosens his embrace on you, instead holding on to your sides and helping you push and pull along his cock, fastening the pace and splashing the bathwater between you. His grip pushes your wet dress upwards until your stomach is exposed, and you lean back as you grind along him.

As you feel the tension building between you, Vash's hands move to your hips, guiding your movements with speed. The water sloshes around you as you both lose yourselves in the rhythm of your lovemaking. You come undone first, shuddering as pleasure overcomes you. The praise of orgasm floods over your lips in a long, breathless moan, and Vash prolongs it by keeping you moving even as your limbs lose their strength. As you whimper in pleasure, you hear him grunt, and his cock twitches against your cunt as Vash's hips buck up. You feel him come underneath you into the bathwater, and you can finally relax as he pulls you against him, still straddling his lap. You collapse onto his chest, your pussy clenching and twitching in satisfaction.

"How long until you can go again?" you ask him eagerly, tracing your fingers over his rough skin.

You can check out the Draconic Lust Masterlist for more info.

Did you like this and want more Trigun content? Go check out my MASTERLIST and drop a follow for any and all future projects!

[waytooinvested]

Forgotten, Not Forgiven - Chapter 2

Still reeling from finding out the truth herself, Lena suddenly finds herself in the midst of an odd role reversal in which she knows that Kara is Supergirl, but Kara no longer has any idea she has ever been more than an ordinary human.

And what’s more, Lena has no choice but to keep the truth from her for her own protection…

This and previous chapters are also on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘Hello little sister’.

Lena jumped and whirled to face her brother, who was leaning with an air of performative nonchalance against the doorway she had just come through, a knowing smirk playing about his lips.

How the hell had he managed to sneak up on her like that? He must have been right behind her and yet she hadn’t sensed a thing, despite the unnatural, heavy stillness of the air down here. She was clearly allowing her emotions to blunt her edge, and that needed to stop right now. If she and Kara were going to make it out of this alive, Lena had to be smarter than that. Smarter than Lex.

‘You know, it took you a lot longer to get here than I expected – I’ve been sending out that signal for nearly two days now. For a moment there I thought you really might have cut the leash and let your little pet go for good, I was about to be so proud, even though it would have been a waste of my efforts. But it turns out that you were just too incompetent to work it out sooner. You’ve really let me down Lena’.

Somehow, even though she knew and despised the truth of who Lex had become, his words still managed to worm their way through the cracks to find the part of her that had once been a little girl desperate for his approval, and she had to bite back the instinct to defend herself. She refused to be drawn so easily into an ego contest with Lex. It wasn’t what she was here for, and it would be a waste of time in any case. There had never been anything she could say or do that was enough to convince her brother that she was worthy of his approval, and for all her inner six year old might yearn for it, she knew now that the last thing anyone should aspire to was to be approved of by this man.

Instead of responding to the jibe, Lena raised the gun she had brought with her and leveled it at Lex’s chest.

‘If you’ve hurt her-’

‘Oh calm down, I didn’t kill your itty bitty kitty. I’ve done you a favour actually. I just couldn’t bear to see you so upset over her lie about being Supergirl, so I fixed her for you. Call it a birthday present’.

‘It’s not my birthday, and I didn’t ask you for anything. What the hell are you up to Lex?’

Throughout this exchange Lena was subtly scanning the room they were in, seeking whatever advantage she might be able to dredge up from the space. It was unpromising. The room was an unbroken expanse of bare white tile, save for the dust and a few dirty scuff marks on the floor where there had clearly once been furniture. There were two closed doors leading off to other parts of the bunker, but no indication as to which might take her to wherever Lex was keeping Kara. Lena weighed up the possibility of making a dash for one or other of them, but quickly discarded it. Lex was bound to have anticipated such a move, and if he had rigged up a booby trap she failed to notice in her haste it could cost both her and Kara their lives.

‘I told you, I got you a present. Want me to tell you what it is? Say please’.

Lex’s voice was jovial and teasing, as if they really were just talking about a new sweater or a bottle of her favourite scotch and not the life of the woman she-

Hated.

Obviously.

But still felt responsible for now that her own brother had taken her hostage.

‘Screw you’.

Lena released the safety catch on her gun, and Lex raised his hands. The gesture should have looked like surrender, but on Lex it just looked mocking, as if she was pointing a stick at him in the garden and shouting ‘bang bang!’ in a fit of childish pique.

‘Ah ah ah. If you do that, you’ll never find out about the little surprise I’ve left for you in Kara’s brain, and if you don’t know how to play with her properly you might find she gets… damaged. We wouldn’t want that would we?’

Fucking Lex.

He had got her in check and he knew it. But at least she was still the one with the gun aimed at his heart. That was something. Enough anyway to allow her room for a little bit of snark.

‘Okay Lex, lets do this your way. I know you love a good supervillain monologuing session, so lets do it. Here I am, your captive and attentive audience, wide eyed and oh-so-impressed by the great homicidal maniac himself. Please, tell me of your great cunning plan so that I can marvel over it’.

‘I know you’re being sarcastic, but I actually love that tone for you. It reminds me of old times. Alright then, since you ask so nicely, I will. You see Lena, once again your big brother has stepped in to pick up the pieces of your broken toys. You were so hurt to find out that Kara Danvers was Supergirl? Well, now she’s not. I’ve split out the alien part of her mind and tucked it securely away for safekeeping. As far as she’s concerned she is now and has always been, plain old Kara Danvers, bumbling human reporter and former friendless orphan. Isn’t it the most perfect revenge? Now you know her secret, and she doesn’t! I laughed so hard when I thought of it, it really is priceless. So, you can either keep your little pet, now she’s been properly domesticated, or if you find you don’t like your cats declawed after all, you can discard her for good, secure in the knowledge that vengeance has been served, even if you didn’t have the guts to do it yourself. You’re welcome’.

‘That’s… completely unhinged. Not to mention impossible’.

‘Impossible for you maybe. I however am cut of a finer cloth. I not only can do it, I have done it. And I not only did it, I enjoyed it’.

‘So what, you’re expecting me to just play along and not tell her the truth? Even if I did agree that she deserved this, there are plenty of other people who know Supergirl’s identity and would be pretty eager to fill her in’.

Lex threw back his head and laughed.

‘Oh baby sister, please, please try it. Only let me know when you’re going to and I’ll make sure I’m there to record it. I thought your irritating noble streak might get in the way of enjoying my present, so I added in a fail safe. Here, I’ll walk you through it at a level you’ll understand. Kara’s mind has been split into two pieces, the one she can access-’

He held up a fist to demonstrate

‘-and the Supergirl part, which she can’t’.

The other fist.

‘All this time you’ve been failing to look for her, Kara’s clever little brain has been busily creating false memories to fill in the gaps left by the missing Supergirl, and it’s getting awfully crowded in there’.

The fingers of one fist expanded outwards, pushing the other off to the side as if he had taken hold of an invisible tennis ball.

‘So to avoid overload, her mind is rejecting the side it can’t get to. If you tell Kara the truth her own brain will fight to keep the separation in place, and she’ll find reasons to deny it to you, as well as to herself. Think of it like two magnets repelling each other’.

He moved one fist towards the other, while moving that one back, as if she was still a four year old child and he was explaining the fundamentals of physics to her for the first time. It was deeply patronising, but Lena let him talk – the more she knew, the more likely it was that she could undo it.

‘Really? That sounds interesting. How did you do it?’

‘Lena, your attempts to outsmart me are laughably juvenile. I’m not going to just hand you the keys to my kingdom’.

She shrugged. It had been a long shot, but you never knew with Lex. Sometimes he just couldn’t resist letting you know exactly how clever he was.

‘Fine. It doesn’t matter anyway, I’ll find a way to get through to her’.

‘Ah, but, this is the truly delicious part: If somehow someone does manage to convince her of the truth, the poles will flip and the two parts of her mind will smash back together with such force that her head will literally explode. Tell me sis, have you ever wondered what a Super looks like with blood pouring from their eyes, ears and nose? I have. I think it would make for a nice holiday movie, what do you say? We could watch it together at Christmas as a cosy little family tradition’.

‘Fuck you Lex. Undo it. Now’.

‘I have to say you’re being a little ungrateful. I did this for you’.

‘Then you can undo it for me, or I can shoot you. For me’.

‘I don’t think so. I did this for you, yes, but I happen to think she’s better this way. And if it all goes well and she doesn’t find a way to unite the two sides on her own, I can do the same thing to Superman’.

‘Oh, there it is. I should have known it would all come back to Superman. You dress all this up as some great revenge on Supergirl for my sake, but this was never about me, or even Kara. It’s only ever about Superman with you’.

Lex shrugged, arrogant in the unshakable certainty of his own unparalleled brilliance.

‘Lena, I hope you know me better than that. At any given moment I have no fewer than seven ulterior motives in play, but yes, of course one of them is Superman. You think your dumb blonde is enough to warrant all this on her own? She’s just like you – a lesser imitation of the real power in her family’.

If it had been safe to take her focus away from Lex for long enough to do so, Lena would have rolled her eyes.

‘You really need to find some other hobbies, this obsession is getting beyond creepy. I know you’re still sore that I’ve been able to beat you at chess since I was four years old, but there are plenty of other games you could take up that don’t involve trailing round trying to get Superman’s attention like a bitter rejected fanboy. Maybe try Connect Four. Or Bingo’.

At long last Lex’s smug look slipped, and for the first time since he’d appeared he seemed actually riled by what she’d said. If there was one thing her brother couldn’t bear, it was being made to feel a fool. He scowled, and when his response came the jocular air was gone from his voice to reveal the cold steel beneath the faux-friendly facade.

‘I thought you’d be more pleased. You always made such a fuss over me killing anyone, even cockroaches like those two, and yet when I find another option you still keep whining. Maybe I should stop trying to be so nice to you and just cut Supergirl’s throat right now while she’s unconscious’.

Lex reached into his jacket and pulled out a stiletto knife, testing the point with his finger and drawing a tiny bead of blood.

‘You know what, I think I will. It’s more humane than she deserves, but I suppose I can make one last concession to your pathetic little crush’.

That was enough, Lena was done playing games.

He had told her all he was going to about what he’d done to Kara, and now she had to stop him before he followed through on his threat, or escaped to enact the rest of his plan against Superman. It was time to do what she had promised herself she would when she’d set out to follow the signal here.

Lena’s knees felt weak but her hands were rock steady as she took aim and placed a finger on the trigger.

‘I’ll tell you what would be more humane. Killing you, and saving the world from any more of your vile schemes’.

Before her brother had time to react Lena fired, twice. Heart and then head, just to make sure he wouldn’t be saved at the last by a bullet proof vest.

The head shot went a little wide, seeming to skim past his temple without leaving a mark, but the heart shot flew true and hit Lex squarely in the chest, passing cleanly through his body to lodge in the wall behind him.

Lex looked down at his front, then back to Lena.

‘You actually shot me! Congratulations, I truly didn’t think you had it in you’.

But the shot was a little too clean. There was no blood marring the pristine white of his shirt, and Lex remained standing upright, the look of infuriating smugness now firmly back in place, as if he had been waiting for this ever since their conversation had started.

Lena swore.

‘It’s a hologram’.

No wonder she hadn’t heard him coming up behind her when she’d first arrived, and he had seemed so entirely unconcerned by the gun she’d had aimed at his chest throughout their interaction. She really should have put the pieces together sooner.

‘Well of course it is, I’m not a moron. Besides, I pinged the DEO as soon as you got here, and there was no point taking chances on still being nearby if they actually manage to figure out their asses from their elbows and pick up the signal. I could escape again of course, but prison is such a waste of time. Also, I think it will be more fun if I leave you to explain why they can’t tell their favourite action figure that she’s not just the Barbie doll she thinks she is. I wonder if they’ll believe you after the way you behaved during your little falling out? I’m guessing you’re not really their favourite person these days. Don’t forget to record it for me if they try to convince her she’s an alien will you? See ya round, sis’.

The hologram flickered and disappeared, leaving Lena alone in the derelict bunker.

The whole thing had been a set up. Of course it had been, and Lena had blundered straight into it exactly as Lex had planned that she should. She was furious, and there was nothing she could do but play the part he had written for her.

She had to find Kara.

[cupoftaae]

Forever And A Day (KTH x READER) series ♡ it's so easy to love you, flaws and all (chapter 10)

Summary: your lifelong friend is forced to face his true feelings for you once he breaks the number one rule of becoming friends with benefits: dont fall in love. He knows he loves you, but you on the other hand need more convincing of the most important thing: the right decision.

Genre: fwb. Roommates, friends to idiots to lovers, fluff, angst, smut, the whole 9 yards tbh.

Pairing: taehyung x female!reader

rating: 18+ (minors dni!!!)

wc- 5k

chapter warnings- swearing, anxiety mentions, possible pregnancy mentions, minor angst, theres no smut but references to it (flashbacks), drinking,

a/n- Hi guys! im back early with another chapter to make up for skipping a few weeks! i wanted to let you guys know that any time there is a long dialogue written in italic- it is a flashback !!

Enjoy guys, Love ya!!

-nini

-

You woke up at 8am to the sound of pans banging in the kitchen, immediately you smiled, knowing your mom had gotten up early to start baking.

A look over to your left would remind you taehyung fell asleep in your bedroom last night....you couldn't help but feel bad, he was so crammed up against the wall, and he definitely would be complaining of back pain later on.

You shifted slightly, allowing room to pull the covers back and plant your feet on the ground. You slept, but not for long.

You were still feeling a bit off after having an episode last night, but the startling realization that came soon after only further prevented you from getting the 8 hours of sleep you so desperately needed.

Your feet clashed against the cold tiles of your bathroom as you slowly shut the door and turned the light on. Your phone was still sitting on the counter near the sink, exactly where Taehyung had left in last night.

You brushed your teeth and contemplated whether you should quickly text them back to clear things up. You promised Taehyung no phone, but this situation was becoming much more serious.

Your eyes gazed to your reflection, sighing.

theres no way....right?

you've been late before, it wasn't some odd occurrence to your body. you grew up playing soccer, dancing and doing track, your teenage athletic self always had weird period dates

But then again, that was a while ago.

You felt guilty for many reasons, 1 being the fact that if you are what you think you are, how could you have been so careless with what you did?

You always used some form of contraception, you even planned to get an IUD implanted when you see your doctor in a few weeks, just so you didn't have any scares.

you also felt guilty for if you were pregnant...

You knew you couldn't be a mom, hell, you could barley take care of Yeontan or yourself.

You also knew Taehyung on the other hand, would absolutely love this, which breaks your heart.

"I don't know, I think it would be fun" taehyung said, reaching into the bowl to grab more popcorn

"It doesn't sound or look fun, taehyung, babies are menaces" You scoffed, looking at him

"oh well I dont think so....I know when I get older someday I think I'll have some...only one or two, depends on what my future spouse wants" he shrugged

"you do realize babies need attention and care, its not like a dog where you put the food in a bowl and leave it to fend for themselves..?" you joked, watching your friend contemplate parenthood at the ripe age of 20.

"Its fun to think about" he smiled softly, looking over at tannie who sat with his tail wagging. He sure was easy to care for, what more work is a human baby?

oh was he naive.

You washed your face and brushed your hair, trying to get out a knot from sleeping with a ponytail in, when taehyung awoke and began to knock on the door.

"baby..." he whispered, seeing the light on, "you in there?"

You smiled and walked over, unlocking the door and pulling him in happily.

"happy birthday!" he whisper yelled, immediately attacking you with kisses and pulling your smaller frame into a hug, "I love you!"

You giggled and kissed him back, hands wrapping over his shoulders, "thank you....I love you too, even if you slept in my bed last night" you smirked

"hey, you told me to!" he added, pulling away

"shh!" you put a hand over his mouth, his deep voice echoing through the room, "I was in a state of weakness, and I really hope my mom didn't see you in here"

He shrugged and moved to hug your from behind, both of you facing the mirror and looking at your reflection, it was sweet.

"so was I the first person to say it?"

you raised an eyebrow and and tilted your head as you applied moisturizer

"happy birthday, did I beat your mom to it?" he giggled, making you smile and nod, "yes, tae you did, you won"

"oh really? what do i win" he smirked and pushed you against him, his face finding the crook of your neck too easily.

"ah-" you tensed and pulled back, knowing if he continued you would have gave in right then in there. "nothing until we get back to Busan"

He frowned, trying to get you to change your mind, "baby."

"taehyung! we are not fucking in my mothers house, let alone my childhood bedroom!" you whispered loudly, making him explode in laughter.

"hey, I was just gonna ask for a massage, I didnt say anything about sex, but now that you mention-"

"no"

"damnit"

You smiled at his antics as he returned his head to your shoulder, humming softly, "you look better, you feeling good, too?"

You nodded, "yeah, I guess...still a bit iffy but mentally im better"

"good" he kissed your cheek and looked at your phone, taking it silently and sliding it into his pocket, making you frown.

-

As afraid to admit as you were, things were slightly coming together now....in a light you wish was dimmed.

When you came downstairs your mother surprised you with a huge birthday breakfast, something you expected hence the fact she does it every year- but what you had not expected was you trying to fight the urge to vomit all over the plate at the scent of the scrambled eggs.

You swore up and down to both your mother and tae that you were okay, just still feeling the effects from last nights situation, but the moment you were alone in your room for the first time since youve been here, you began to break.

"What if's" filling your head as you cried silently against the shut door, deep deep down you believed you would possibly laugh about this later on, like "oh remember how I was so dramatic and thought I was pregnant? what a funny time!"

"Y/N?" your mother called, knocking on the door, "we are leaving for lunch in 15, almost ready?"

you sighed, feeling bad for your bad mood against your mom who was just happy to have you in her presence. "yes, almost..."

She had thrown together a small reservation for the 3 of you at a local wine and dine restaurant, you were feeling a bit more hungry now and were grateful for that.

Putting on a black tank top and jeans, you curled your hair and put some makeup on, all while that silly little voice in your head kept nagging at you that something bad was happening.

You tried to calm yourself, even going as far as saying that even if you had gotten pregnant, you would figure out a way to deal when you got back to Busan...you just wanted to enjoy your vacation.

All of you had made it out the house on time, taehyung offering to drive to the place while you and your mother sat in the back seat. You gazed at every passing store, seeking out any type of pharmacy available. You wished you could use your phone map, but you know....

"you will love this place, My friend took me here after one of my doctor appointments last week, the food is to die for!" your mother patted your back on the way into the small yet lavish building, the spring flowers making your nose itch.

"oh thats nice, was it stacey who took you? or Linna?" you responded

She giggled softly as you waited in line to check in for your reservation, "no, actually he is a new worker, his name is Ji-Tae"

Your eyes widened, turning to taehyung behind you, who was making a smug face, mouthing the word "he?"

You pouted, "I see..."

you were skeptical. You always want your mom to be happy, and for sure you understand how lonely she is living alone with such a big house filled with things your dad had built for her before fleeing your family to be in a different one.

-

The food was good, and you ate a lot of it.

Your mother insisted to buy you a drink to go with your pasta, making you hesitant, so the glass sat full in front of you.

"is it not good?" she would ask, making you race to come up with some excuse that wasnt related to the possible fact you could be pregnant.

"Oh I took a sip" you lied, "its good but I dont think I should be drinking right now"

She beamed up, seeming happy "oh? how come?" she smiled knowingly

Taehyung took a sip of his wine and raised his eyebrows, confused.

You panicked quickly, "because I am still not one hundred precent, health wise, so you know-"

"I'll drink it!" he smiled and took a sip, face scrunching at the mixture of his alcohol.

"dont mix, its not good to-" your mom began

"and we dont want you to get drunk" you gently rubbed his back, giving him a knowing glare, he nodded.

You nervously continued to pick at your lunch scraps

"hey we should get coffee or something after this, theres a store plaza down the street" your mom insisted, offering to drive you both

"that sounds fun" he looked at you, smiling

"yes, im down"

It fell silent, not in a weird way, it was peaceful...the wind coming in from the window near you had your hair flowing like you were in a covergirl commercial, and the sun only made your skin look shiny and tan.

Taehyung couldn't keep his eyes off you

Even sitting here eating, doing nothing particularly interesting, you were the only thing that had his attention, you've always been so effortlessly beautiful in his eyes.

"you are glowing, y/n" your mom smiled, taking her eyes off her phone to look at you, "dont you think, taehyung?"

"I agree" he hummed, making you blush.

Your mother began to ramble about something to do with her job while he got lost in thought, something hes done a lot the past 24 hours.

He couldn't help his mind racing back to the first time he felt this feeling, this feeling of admiration and love when he realized he saw you differently...

"You cant, your- you aree a cheater!!" you slurred, tripping over yourself as you walked to the living room again

He giggled, putting his wine down and pulling you to sit next to him, "just because I know how to play the game, doesnt mean I cheated"

It was almost 3am, he had finished working in his office around 11pm and promised to spend time with you as you both had fallen into a habit doing.

you would cook, prepare wine and entertainment, and he would get to destress and spend time away from his laptop.

Obviously, one look at the both of you right now, you can tell who handles their alcohol better...

"Fool" you scoffed and sat down with a thump, leaning against him in the dark room.

"be nice" he teased, his hand poking into your side.

He had to admit, spending so much time with you was nice, he realized you had matured a lot emotionally since hes met you, and you both had grown into semi-adults with real lives and things to talk about, it was an odd but fascinating thing for him.

He also had to admit, that for the first time in his life, seeing you against him with your hair sprawled out and your shirt scrunched up, revealing a bit of your soft stomach, made his heart somersault.

You also had grown into him in a way you never saw coming, he was so easy to just be next to, so easy to talk to, so easy to know and love, and that is why it led to what it did....

He gently cupped your face, titling you up so your eyes met his

"so pretty" he blushed and whispered, making you giggle in even your drunk state

"I know you are but what am I?" you raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh as he pushed your hair back, brushing it with his long fingers softly.

"Y/n.....?" he spoke after a moment, the room filled with tension- and no longer from the card game you had just fought over.

"yeah?" your face froze, eyes scanning over him,

he gently took your hand and placed it onto his chest

"your heart is beating reallyyy fast" you smiled

"yea, i know"

You watched his eyes draw to your lips before going back up, making you smirk.

"you wanna kiss me?" you teased, watching him blush even more, he was practically a tomato right now.

"I- uh,"

"you can if you want" your hand slid up over his shoulder, relaxing at his nape as you sat closer, nudging his nose with yours.

He swallowed harshly, feeling sick a bit, and was unable to identify if it was the rush of emotions or the drinks.

"dont overthink...its just a kiss" you whispered

and with that he pressed his lips to yours, softly swiping his tongue into your mouth.

It was just a kiss.

yeah, it was a kiss the next day too, after he finished work, you sat waiting for him, sober this time.

You ate then made out for a few hours before falling asleep- he was content, knowing you not only liked it too, but continued to want him.

thats how it was for a few days, things were normal until 11pm, then anyone onlooking would consider you both in love...and he loved that

He was a sensitive person, still is, when he feels something he feels it deeply and quick, He was only growing more in love with you by the day, and was convinced you felt the same.

that was, until it was about a week and a half into this escapade

"I want you" you panted, his lips sucking just under your clavicle as your hands gripped his hair.

You both were sprawled out on the couch, completely sober as you passionately made out, the puzzle that had been started was no longer interesting to either of you.

He sat back a bit, looking at you, "what?"

suddenly you felt embarrassed, "we dont have to do anything" you covered

He sat looking at you, it only made you feel self conscious, so you sat up and wrapped your arms over your bra, hiding your chest.

He wasnt mad, or shocked, he just couldnt believe you were asking to...to take things to this level, to be intimate with him.

You both have only been doing this for a little while, but he felt like its been forever-perhaps its due to the fact you both grew up together, he knows you, you know him, it felt safe...and right.

He didnt want to rush anything, but his heart was beating so damn hard right now, "y-yeah? you want to?"

You blushed, "yeah..." you watched his face light up, a small shy smile on his lips "its just sex..ya know? it doesn't hurt anyone"

He nodded, trying to figure out what to say or do now

"so is it okay?"

"of course, y/n, yeah..." he smiled again, feeling so glad in knowing you trusted him.

You laid back again, pulling him down and kissing him, "no strings?" you asked

oh.

Of course you dont want this to be a serious thing, it wasnt who you were, he should have known that....but yet he was still hurt.

"yeah....n-no strings"

and thats how that came to be.

He snapped out of his head and took a sip of his drink, smiling at you, your eyes met his and you blushed a bit, mouthing "what?"

He shook his head, "nothing"

Things might be different now between you both, but one thing that hasnt left or changed is the admiration he saves for just you.

-

"this is so cute, huh?" your mom turns to you, showing a mannequin with a summer dress on it

"aww it is" you walked over and felt it

"i'll buy it" she smiles, "birthday gift"

"ah! you dont have to eomma-"

"i want to, shush" she giggled and grabbed a medium off the rack, putting it into her shopping basket, you kissed her cheek, thanking her and linking arms while you walked.

"wheres taehyung?" she asked

just as she finished speaking:

"guys look" he ran up to both of you, he had disappeared about 14 minuets ago to go explore the market.

"what is that?" you smiled, looking at the container in his hand.

"there is a little store across the way, there was pets and stuff.....I bought a fishy" he grinned like a child, presenting the item in front of him.

"Taehyung how are we gonna bring a fish home?" you laughed at his cuteness, looking into the small water container to see a tiny fish swimming around happily.

"oh...I didnt think of that" he frowns, looking down, "I also bought a tank for him too"

"that you did" You nodded, looking at all of his bags.

"you guys are fish parents now" your mom laughed and patted his shoulder

You swallowed and nodded, yeahh fish parents

"we can discuss names at a later time, lets go show the lil dude the market" he spoke proudly, holding it up and talking to it as he passed cool stores, as if it could understand. It was kind of adorable.

You smiled happily as you all walked around a bit more, stopping at a cafe to get coffee and tea.

"iced with oatmilk please" you call out to your mom as she nods, getting into line while you and taehyung sit at a table outside.

"hes so cute" he laid his head in his palm, admiring the fish.

"we should name him spongebob"

Taehyung laughed, "but spongebob isnt a fish..."

"but hes yellow!"

"hmm...how about 해 (hae- sun in korean)

You smile and nod..."thats cute, actually"

"Then Hae it is"

You giggled and looked around, your eyes fell on a store a few blocks from where you were sitting- a pharmacy.

It was like a reminder of the possible issue at hand, everywhere you turned, the universe wouldnt let you rest.

The fish baby, the pharmacy, the pregnant woman who complimented you in the restaurant, It was haunting.

"hey, uhm, im gonna go run down the street really quick, i should be back before my mom comes, line is long"

He looked up at you "where you going?"

"just the pharmacy"

"can I come?"

You widened your eyes "no!...uhm i need....tampons." you nodded

"alright, do you have cash?"

You looked in your bag and had about $11

How much was a pregnancy test?

"here, just in case.." he smiled and gave you $10

"thank you honey" you kiss his head and take the money, assuring you will return asap.

You felt bad lying and taking his cash, but you needed to find out what was going on already, and so when you walked into the store with your head down, you made a straight line right to the feminine care isle.

You decided on buying tampons anyway, just so he wouldnt be suspicious.

"okay ...okay" you took a breath and walked over to the pregnancy area, which was beyond weird. You had passed by similar isles at other stores, looking out of pure curiosity, never believing you would be in this position of the buyer.

You scoffed to yourself, looking at all the tests, "which one do I buy? whats the difference?" you whispered to yourself, looking over each box, remembering you had to be quick. You decided to go with HCG test strips since they were the cheapest, you put them in your basket and ran to go pay before tae or your mom decided to come check on you.

The lady checking out gave you a knowing look, "how old are you?" she asked, eyeing the tampons and pregnancy tests.

You felt insulted, not because she assumed you were young-which you were- but because she was just asking and felt it was okay to do so.

"old enough, lets hurry this up"

You paid and grabbed the bag, making a sprint back to the coffee shop where your mom was just sitting down with taehyung- you made it.

"heres your drink" she smiled, "thanks mom"

you sat down next to taehyung, your heart was in your throat.

"I told her you ran to get concealer" he whispered in your ear, an attempt to save you some embarrassment

"oh, thanks" you grinned, brushing your foot against his.

-

A few hours later, the sun had started to set as you all returned home- your mother went to her home office to finish a quick work call as you and taehyung hung in the kitchen.

"im glad you can enjoy it now" he smiled, scooping another bite last nights cake onto a fork and feeding it to you

"yeah me too" you hummed, eating it before he kissed you quickly

"my moms in the other room" You scolded playfully, licking the frosting off the fork.

"so? we arent doing anything" he frowned, hugging you, "we cant do anything anyways-you got your period" he giggled

Oh yeah

"oh right" you laughed, taking another bite

His hands rested on your lower stomach, massaging gently. It was an act of cuteness but when you knew more than he did, it made you nervous.

"are you hurting?" he asked, kissing your shoulder

"no..." you blushed

maybe.....it wouldnt be the worst thing to parent with taehyung. He is so affectionate and caring, you know he would be the best partner and dad.....

You shook your head, trying to get rid of your current thoughts as you put the fork down.

You needed to end this now

"im...gonna shower ok?" you whispered, kissing his jaw

"want me to come?" he asked genuinely

"no no its okay, im gonna use my apple soap that you says burns your nose anyways" you giggle, walking away

"it does!!"

"mmhm"

-

You locked the bathroom door, placing the bag on the sink as you rummaged through.

"how the fuck does this work?" you whisper, looking over the box of the tests, "hm" you frowned and pulled one out, unwrapping it discreetly and going to use the toilet.

After you peed on the stick, your hand grew sweaty- it was becoming more real as the minuets when on.

While you waited, you took an actual shower to pass the time, fighting the urge to cry based on whatever result was on the stick just outside the shower.

You washed your hair and took your time before you wrapped up in a towel, shutting the water off.

it would be negative, right? you couldnt be pregnant, these types of things dont happen to you, these things happen to other but not you, you are probably worried about nothing...right?

Your mind raced as you sat near the sink, water still dripping from the towel.

"lets go y/n, whatever it is.....we are ok" you consoled yourself, rubbing your arm before moving to grab the test, your hands shaking furiously.

Suddenly everything youve ever done was questioned.

every choice youve ever made was doubted

Your confidence fell down the drain, and perhaps the years spent working and educating yourself are pointless.....maybe it wont matter after all....because theres two lines on the test.

You are pregnant.

You broke down sobbing, leaning against the wall as you slid to your knees, there wasnt anything to say, there wasnt anything to do. You were gonna have a baby and there was nothing you could do about it, nothing you say would erase the problem.

Your mother and taehyung sat downstairs, completely unaware of the anxiety attack you were dealing with just one floor above them.

"no no...no..." your hand fell to your stomach, gently caressing it.

You werent mad at the baby, you were mad at yourself. You suddenly felt responsible for the life growing inside you, but felt guilty over knowing you would never succeed at being a mom.

"im sorry.....im sorry im so sorry" you rubbed your stomach once more, whispering and apologizing in advance for the failure you would bring to this childs life. you havent even finished school, you graduate next year and now you are gonna have to drop out because paying for a newborn and tuition wont work, you will have to sell your car and old clothes

you will have to move somewhere cheaper, or grow small and confess to your mother that you cant get your shit together, and need to have a baby in her house for a few years until you are financially stable.

In your own mind, you were still a kid. You were a baby in the eyes of the world, and now everyone will shame you for what youve done, knowing you arent ready, but still expect you to carry on and raise another human being.

and taehyung.....hes gonna be happy....hes gonna love this, and you cant deal with it.

-

About an hour later, you had forced yourself to calm down as you made your way to his room, opening the door to see him laying on his bed.

"hi angel" he smiled, urging you to come over to him.

"hi" you spoke quietly, walking over to the bed and climbing in, hiding your face into his neck as you laid on him.

"everything alright?" he asked, rubbing your back.

tell him, tell him now before you back out, you wont ever do it if you dont tell him.

"we have to talk later" was all you mumbled, falling asleep next to him.

It blew your mind in a way, he had no clue about the fact he was a dad right now, yet here you were, falling apart by the seams. You wish you didnt know. You wish you were him, you wish this never happened in the first place.

Happy birthday to you, huh?

taglist-

@turnthepageandbeburnt @taebangtanbabe @borahaexoxo @lelefoodlover @tan-veee @bokieya

[crescentbelle]

The Motel

Jake Lockley X reader word count: 1k warnings: mentions of violence?? blood and injuries, angstyy but also fluff?? who knows

my neighbours were having the loudest sex the whole time i wrote this and it did not help with the ambiance i was trying to create for myself

You look over the text again.

I'll be back late, leave the door unlocked. 

Please don't stay up, I love you.

And of course, you are choosing to ignore it entirely. Chained to habit, you slip up onto the basin and prep to play makeshift nurse. The motel is grimy this time, with blue-hued fluorescent lights and cracking pink tiles. You are sure this is the worst place you've stayed in, spending time hyping yourself up in case of a rogue cockroach and trying to find the source of a bleach ridden smell.

From the crack of the bathroom door, green numbers stick alight, displaying 3:35 AM. Fourteen motels and hotels across the US have been home, running away from one problem or another for months. And for the last 4 hours, you have the fantastic entertainment of buzzing lights and hissing pipes, waiting for Jake's return.

The janky doorknob turns, and a whisper of a swear is caught. Jake is finally crawling back in. Two quick thumps of his boots echo with the pat sound of leather to wood.

"Hi, my love," You whisper, trying to take in the state of him. You don't know what to say. Grazes litter the high points of his face, rouge and raw. His left eye is almost swollen shut, bruises littering his brow bone and a cascade of other injuries, covered with their fair share of blood. The lighting makes it look all the more vicious, the tacky liquid coming up black.

"I told you not to stay up." His voice is barely alive, hoarse and bare.

"Stop it," You start to fiddle with alcohol wipes. "You're too stubborn. Have I ever told you that, Mr. Lockley?"

Jake hushes you, moving between your legs and gliding his hand to the nape of your neck. It's self-soothing, as he brushes at the soft skin, easing into closing his eyes. "I'm fine, mi conejita."

A stillness settles, and for a moment, you try to figure out where you're supposed to start. In all honesty, his condition scares you. He almost seems unreal, face swollen at awkward angles and vulnerable. Jake's stare is cold, a dissociated look locked into the rusted sink. You wonder if Steven or Marc are saying anything or if the pain is just that bad.

"I'm taking there's still no word from Vengeance himself?"

"I don't know what he wants." The words are like déjà vu, ringing out into the silence. Memories of hot dunes- a knife to sutures, courses to the front of your mind. Marc's body crawling towards you, fisting at useless, liquid sand. "I'm stuck waiting like a fucking dog."

You kick-start yourself into shitty medic mode and away from any echoes of the past or failed humour. Slipping your hands down the buttons of his shirt, you peel the soaked cloth off his body. The process starts, patiently wiping away blood from his chest and neck, sinking into soft kisses across the aftermath. It's slow, and the man is patient, keeping his eyes screwed shut.

Jake has always been the toughest, which, contrary to popular belief, might not be the best quality. He's loyal, and harsh, and like a fucking brick wall sometimes. There's a confidence and strength of his that has a way of enveloping you, and something about another man's blood on his hands is (disgustingly) enticing.

And yet, despite this, tonight has proven that things are hitting their boiling point. Khonshu's absence is becoming worrying, and the boys' absence is becoming painful. How much longer can Jake endure cleaning up a ghost's messes, one that he refuses to let the others do?

"It's all just power plays." You soothe, "From experience, I don't think he's actually waiting on anything. Maybe one of us should offer up as a human sacrifice, that'll get his attention."

A snicker escapes Jake, and a kiss is planted on the crown of your head. "Smart girl. It's a wonder why he never chose you for an avatar."

You sneak a mischievous grin, "I think I would be great, don't you?" There's something to his slight grin that might make you consider it.

The man shakes his head, pointing absentmindedly to the mirror. "Hm careful, Marc didn't like that one." Of course that's what brings Marc forward to say something. You try to ignore Jake's morsing glimpses in the mirror and the sour turn to his grin.

"Things will be okay, okay?" You reach out, smoothing over his shoulders. "I know you don't like us saying it- and you don't have to believe me, but it's true."

There's no response from the brooding man, but his eyes lock onto you, brow furrowed. There's that look, the one that chokes you up.

Within seconds, you melt into a meek woman, legs dangling on the bathroom sink- caving into yourself. It's as if he sees through you, watching the cogs turning as you try to figure him out. You'll never win because giving respect to Jake is giving in, letting yourself live on the impulse of submission. It's breaking out of the mould for Steven or Marc and trusting (or more likely, devoting) yourself to what he tells you.

"Come on, let's get in the shower. You can help me clean up." Holding out his hands, they slowly guide you off the sink and eventually into hot water. There you both soak, wincing soft I know's that stay with the steam until the warm water cuts. It's as peaceful as it can be, and you feel your body aching for sleep.

"We'll be home soon, conejita. You've been so patient with me." The brunette whispers, cocooning you with a thin towel and drying himself off in following. It almost feels like home, the chilly draft of London and scratchy cloth.

"Maybe we can wait a bit," A smirk creeps up. "I'm gonna miss the moustache too much."

"I always knew you had great taste."

[thefae-journal]

dress (kiss the stain away)

fandom: A League of Their Own ship: Gretson POV: second person, Carson

word count: 443 warnings: none

summary: “Friends can mean a lot of different things.” Greta leans forward, and you let her. Your hands land on her waist, and you tug on the material of her jumper. Closer.

or...

If a Gretson kiss happened in the kitchen in episode 3.

Also on AO3

A League of Their Own masterlist masterlist

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The beer misses your mouth and spills on your dress. Your favorite one, the green and light brown checkered with short sleeves. The fabric falls to below your knees. 

While the others celebrate, Shirley’s swing—like a French hooker at high tide—resulting in a victory for the Peaches, you and Greta set your beers down on the table and go to the kitchen. A trail of laughs behind you as you turn the corner. Greta grabs a cloth and guides you to face her. 

“I need to like… My dress needs to slow down,” you say, bowing your head to watch the strokes of her hand on your dress at your chest. “Yikes. Thank you.” 

It’s clear Greta doesn’t know how to take a stain out of clothing because she rubs it instead of dabbing it. But you can’t bring yourself to care. You can fix it later if you need to on laundry day. If Greta doesn’t make it worse. 

She slows and gazes at you. Not herself, not what she’s doing. The cloth isn’t rubbing at the stain anymore, but a spot on your dress that’s dry. Distracted. Distracted by you. 

“Greta,” you whisper. You meet her eyes, a soft brown coated in warmth. 

“Friends can mean a lot of different things.” Greta leans forward, and you let her. Your hands land on her waist, and you tug on the material of her jumper. Closer. 

Closer. Noses brush. Breathes linger on skin. Yours doesn’t. You’ve stopped breathing. You can’t breathe. You don’t know how to breathe when she’s this close. When her lips collide with yours. Just like they had in the storage closet of the bar. 

It’s easy at first. Innocent. The cloth drops from Greta’s hand to the floor, and she caresses your cheek before moving to your hair. Fingers tangled. You don’t want her to stop. 

You drown in her. Swallow her whole. 

Greta must’ve known by your tight grip on her waist, how your hands start to wander up her back, her arms. She directs you backwards until you hit the kitchen table. Each kiss becomes more intense with a want that fuels you, and you burn. Ache. 

A fire that sits in your stomach. A fire that was never there with Charlie. 

You pull away first, rest your head against Greta’s. You find your breath again. Heavy. “We should…” 

“Yeah.” She chuckles and kisses you one last time before leaving the kitchen. 

You shake your head and look down at the tile below you, heat rising to your cheeks. Friends can mean kissing each other in the kitchen of the house of your pro-baseball team. 

[quarantinedinabaddream]

got your whole life ahead of you , you’re only 19. but i fear that they already got all the best parts of me.

it’s been a year since you left the house which was supposed to be a home but never quite felt like one no matter how hard you tried to make it into that. it’s been a year since you realised that freedom isn’t what they make it out to be, because like a caged bird left in the wild you too still can’t quite comprehend what to do with yourself. it’s been almost two months since you turned 19. you cried waiting for your mother to wish you at midnight, despite being surrounded by way too many people than you ever had been on birthdays, except all it did was make you feel lonelier. and at last the wish did come, later than you expected, but it did. and you couldn’t help but heave a sigh of relief, quietly thinking about how your mother still loved you it seemed even though you always know deep down that she is going to forever despise you for ruining her life by just existing but you brushed away that thought before it had the chance to become tangible in the form of blood dripping on the bathroom floor, staining the tiles the same colour as the dye in your hair did the summer after 18.

on most days you can’t help but wonder if anyone truly sees you, if anyone understands the weight you carry on your shoulders, the burden of unwanted expectations and disappointments that seem to define your existence. you think about whether they can see it on your face, that each passing year feels like another layer of your real self being stripped away, leaving behind a hollow shell of who you once were but the thing is you can’t even recall who you used to be and it scares you because what if this is all you’ve ever been? what if the dreams you had were just childish insolences disguised as ambitions. on most days you also can’t help but mourn the person you could’ve been, had things happened differently. the person who would have the strength to dream without restraint and chase after their beliefs with unwavering determination. the person who would know happiness and love like the back of their hand. but alas, you know in your bones that the gap between who you could’ve been and who you actually are can never be bridged. so now as you stand on the precipice of adulthood with trembling knees, you are haunted by the ghost of the person you once could’ve been, now forever lost to the passage of time and the cruel hand of fate.

you want to scoff when people say it gets better the more you grow because you know it doesn’t won’t. you know that you are going to spend the rest of your years wishing you could go back, to what though you still can’t really decide. and on days when the world around you swims and blurs into a haze of muted colours, voices and bone deep exhaustion, the lines between reality and illusions blurring and swirling into a violent storm of pain. you can’t help but numbly wonder whether the devoted “it gets better” believers can see the ocean deep hopelessness in your eyes. whether they can see the exhaustion of nothing you do ever being enough in the trembling of your body. whether they even notice the sickness that torments your mind and body forcing you to take pills just so you can get out of bed. but even then you can’t, not always. not when your mind won’t stop obsessing over the most trivial things to the point that you start to suspect whether you are even real and your body won’t stop aching at the slightest of movements. you want to laugh in their face when they call you weak because you know they wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where you were raised. you want to snarl and scream and tell them that you will never believe their lies of “oh, it will get better with time” because, unlike the stories you grew up reading there is never a light at the end of the tunnel in reality, not for you atleast. so, you resign yourself to the bleakness of your existence, knowing that there is no escape from the prison whether of your own making or not.