#also just kind of thrown together last minute

[nomairuins]

thank GODDD the doctor is taking time to work on himself maybe now he can stop ruining womens lives .

[casualhedonists]

✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter two)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

chapter: 2/?

MASTERLIST

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder mention (but no actual murder) (not yet at least?), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, oral sex, thigh riding, eventual piv, i’m new to full on smut bear with me here (and pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

a/n: first off, THANK YOU for the love on chapter 1. wasn’t sure how I’d fare since I’ve done a lot of writing in my life but little to no smut. with that said! longer chapter incoming. also I just know he’d give insane head okay i just do,the guy looks like he fucks and he definitely does

You weren't sure exactly how you slipped away from Snow’s room that night, but you could somewhat piece it together in flashes. First a head rush, then the fire in the pit of your stomach practically having gasoline thrown on it.

You remembered a quiet gasp escaping your lips, then panic, a flash of white, and suddenly you were stumbling away, head spinning as you tried to catch your breath, pacing unevenly down the hallway, any chance of a stealthy escape long thrown out the window.

Back in your room, once the door was bolted and your back was against it, making sure nobody could get in if they tried, you had your first shot at clear-headedness since you’d heard heels scuffing the hardwood.

You’d soaked your panties through and were dripping down your thighs, but you’d be damned if you could get into the headspace to take care of it. Panic flooded your veins, ice-hot as you tried to catch your breath. you slid down the door and sat there, legs numb against the cold wooden planks.

Who was she? A million questions filled your head all at once. Was she from the Capitol? Could she be one of Snow’s friends, one of your friends? The thought made you sick. What if you’d dined with her before? Talked to her? How long had this been happening? Who knew about it? Were you being played?

Had he seen you watching him?

Unable to help yourself, your one-track mind took you back to the way he’d groaned your name, though you were half sure that had been a fever dream of some kind. Still, you kept replaying it. Over and over, like a broken record.

It didn’t make any sense, you were so fucking confused. All this time you’d been hoping he would make a move, you’d practically begged him to. Why hadn’t he? When you were clearly on his mind, and yet he made you believe he didn’t think of you that way at all. Was he just respecting your agreement?

You fiddled with the lace on the hem of your slip as you mulled it over. You stayed sat like this for almost an hour, trying unsuccessfully to wrap your head around it. When you ended up right back where you started, and you were sure enough time had passed that if someone was coming to get you, they would’ve already, you finally stood up. Your caution led you to drag a chair from across the room, propping it up by the door to jam the handle. That left you with the sliver of peace of mind you required to shower off this cold sweat you’d formed.

The next morning, you dreaded breakfast. But you knew you had to face him, as well as the fact that this could very well be your last meal. You should at least try to eat well.

You made your way downstairs, a few minutes later than usual, enough for Coriolanus to already be sipping coffee, a few pages through his newspaper. You’d not got fully dressed yet, not wanting the contrast to be too obvious, but you’d wrapped a silk dressing gown around you so you were a little more covered up. You knew one thing for certain, you wouldn’t be trying any more of your tricks until you knew just what you were dealing with.

He didn’t look over at you, which you took as a good sign. The urge to hide from him, from what you’d seen and what you now knew, overwhelmed you. You didn’t say a word, and picked silently at your breakfast, but despite your best efforts, not managing to keep more than a few bites down.

“You’re quiet today.” He muttered, and you started.

“Um.”

He lowered his paper.

“Something wrong?”

How about everything?

“Oh, no, I’m okay. Just uh…” you glanced up at him, and met his sharp gaze. Fuck. You’d hoped you’d go unnoticed. You felt like a deer in headlights, like he could read your mind.

“Well?” He prompted, gaze unwavering. You blinked.

“Headache.” You managed to breathe, faking a small, pitiful smile.

He brought his paper back up in front of him, crisply turning the page. You both thanked the new barrier between you for cutting off his stare, and resented it as you looked at the tiny printed words you couldn’t make out from where you were sitting.

“I’ll have Lucille bring you up something.”

“Thank you.” you said quickly, almost too quickly, and you feared he might lower his paper again to watch you as you stumbled over another excuse. But you fell lucky this time.

The week seemed to pass in a blur, Monday’s gala being one of the only times you really left your room when Snow was around, other than meal times, which you spent in a similar state as that first breakfast. You cursed yourself for throwing out your longer dresses, and settled for the least suggestive of them, the white one you’d been thinking of pitching to Snow as a backup plan in your panicked state outside his bedroom. That all felt worlds away now. What you’d seen had shifted the tides, marking a solid, definitive line in your head between the before and after.

The gala went as well as it could given the circumstances. You danced, Snow was charming to you in front of the guests, but held your gaze no longer than usual. It was simultaneously terrifying and thrilling to feel his hands on your waist, knowing what you knew. It felt like you’d been tapped with a cattle prod and had to hide it every time his hand brushed yours on top of the dinner table, as unsuspecting guests smiled at you, the happy couple.

If only they knew that in the same breath, you were scanning the crowd, wondering who the blonde could’ve been, how close she was to Snow, if at all, and hating the way every touch he placed on your hands and waist served as a reminder that he’d been touching her instead of you.

Your stupid brain had formed a highlight reel of what you’d witnessed behind Snow’s door, and it tortured you with every passing moment. To know he was thinking of you. To think that maybe, he wanted you there instead. It put a strange sense of possessive pride into you, that weaved between your jealousy. Because yes, you’d seen another girl on her knees with her mouth around him, but you hadn’t heard any name other than your own while it happened.

You carried this strange hope, dwindling to start off, and then building each day that you were left un-hanged and very much alive, slowly chipping away at your fear of the worst. And yet, you knew the game, unbeknownst to Snow, had been fundamentally changed. You’d stopped your antics altogether, now barely meeting his eye as you passed each other in the hallway, covering up more at breakfast, and only talking just enough to avoid another interrogation. Avoiding touch, and conversation, and all-around keeping yourself away from him.

You were quieter still at night in your room. After a few days, you’d finally felt safe enough to move the chair away and sleep with the door locked as you normally would. But while your games had stopped, your want for him had only been amplified. Fuelled by jealousy and frustration, you had to bite down on your hand so that not even the slightest noise made its way out as you pictured him, not as you used to in your fantasies, but as you’d seen him that night, undone with your name on his lips. It was much easier, in your head, to picture yourself as the one on your knees. Any other fantasy just failed to make the cut now you’d seen the real thing.

Thursday rolled around and you’d made a new habit of pacing the downstairs library when Coriolanus was out of the house. That way, if he got home and stepped inside, you could pretend to be lost in a book. But the hours seemed to stretch out and you became bored, and with no Snow in sight, you decided to head down to the servants’ quarters.

This wasn’t a common occurrence, but it wasn’t unheard of. You were known for your gentleness among the house staff, less harsh than Snow, but firm nonetheless. It had led you to a respectful friendliness with the maids and servants, and once every so often you’d check in on them.

Today’s objectives, however, were purely self-motivated. You found Lucille, who dressed you, at the kitchen table, chopping vegetables.

She stood upon seeing you, and curtseyed (Snow was rather old fashioned that way). You nodded, then took a seat at the foot of the table.

“Do you need any help with that?” You glanced at the cutting board.

Lucille’s eyes widened. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Ma’am.”

You laughed. Lucille chopped and diced, and you asked questions. At first, they were after her family, her brother was sick and despite your offers, she wouldn’t accept help. So instead you listened, and slowly but surely, your questions got a little more directed toward the object of your interest.

You were good at playing the long game, so you started by asking about the company he kept. What she thought of them, with the promise that it would stay between the two of you, cross your heart.

She wouldn’t say much but she knew a little more than you; Snow kept very similar company as you did, and rarely went out for social visits. Any trips were strictly work-related, and when you eased into the topic of his past, Lucille mentioned, in very polite terms, that he had left a small trail of women heartbroken after a short period of time. That not all of them had been pleasant, and that she was pleased you seemed to have a positive effect on him.

She knew about your arrangement, practically the whole staff did, but they were kept on a very tight leash and were thoroughly reminded to not say a word acknowledging it, not even to you. It was with a knowing glance that Lucille told you she was happy you’d stayed around.

You smiled. Knowing that was likely all you were going to get for now, you let her be. By then, it was late enough to have gone dark, and you headed up to bed.

You awoke to creaking outside your door, and the shadow of footsteps from underneath it. You’d been tossing and turning for the last - you checked your watch - two hours. Excellent. You rolled onto your back wondering who it was, and then you heard it again. At first you wondered if it was just a sleep-deprived hallucination, or a sense of deja-vu, but then you focused, and there it was. The sound of heels. Again.

You sat up in bed, pushing your hair out of your face. You were enraged the first time, but if this was becoming a Thursday night tradition, it would be a serious problem. You were tired, you reasoned, you could just try to go back to sleep. Ignore it. Not let him have this power over you, a power that he didn’t even know he had. All the more reason to ignore it, and make it tomorrow’s problem.

But you just couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie, no matter how hard you tried. Your mother used to say it was a problem, always sticking your nose in places it didn’t belong. But it had got you this far, hadn't it?

You knew you were going to follow her to Snow’s room again, it was just a matter of time. You had to at least pretend you had an ounce of self-control, whereas really your head was thrumming and you knew it would take getting hit by a high-speed train to send you back to sleep now.

So you held off. Five minutes passed. Then ten. You had to know, at least, what they were doing. Maybe you could get a look at her face, see who it was, and answer some of the questions you had.

So you went. With a purpose this time, knowing full well what and who you’d end up seeing, trying to take steady breaths and focus on your plan. Check who it was, then leave.

You’d never been that great at execution. Call it hedonism, call it a morbid fascination, or living vicariously, but when you walked up to the door - which was ajar again, strangely even more than last time, by at least an inch or two - you looked inside, and your feet planted. The last shred of your self-control allowed you to take in the room first, the desk and chair that was right within your sight, and as you tucked yourself into the room, half hidden behind the door, you finally looked back at the bed where you’d seen Snow with his blonde girl last time.

Neither of them were sitting now.

Thirty seconds ago, you would’ve believed the hottest thing you’d ever seen was what played out in this room last week. But that was before you saw Snow turned away from you, still fully dressed with his sleeves rolled up, stomach on the bed and face between the blonde’s thighs, eating her out like he was on death row and she was his last meal.

You’d gotten head before. You knew it felt good, but the boys you’d slept with before your arrangement with Snow were selfish and inattentive. They would try, but they were far more interested in getting their dicks wet than showing you a good time. But Snow - you’d never seen anything like it. You didn’t know it could feel that good, or at least, not as good as the blonde girl - who you noted in the back of your mind, wasn’t anyone you recognised - was making it look. Her hips were bucking so hard he was having to pin her down with both hands around her waist.

She was just moving so much, wriggling and crying out and gasping and - you didn’t think you’d ever truly known jealousy until that moment. You couldn’t look away, knees weak and hands shaking, letting yourself get sucked into this headspace again, losing all trace of rationality. You’d think she was playing it up for him, but you knew what that sounded like. You’d faked enough orgasms to know if she was, but this? This was real. As she got close, grinding into him, writhing, running a shaky hand through his hair then getting louder, you managed to snap out of your trance.

In a flash, you ran back down the hallway.

If you thought you were avoiding Snow before, this week was about to give you a run for your money. You took breakfast in your room, and kept only to the parts of the house you knew he never entered. You only touched yourself in the shower, silent cries washed away by the water and steam, paranoia backing you into a corner.

You feigned illness the one time Snow sent a maid to inquire after you. Nothing too major, but enough to put him off. When he left the house, you snuck into the library to smuggle books back to your room, a pile forming as you tried ceaselessly to distract yourself.

You wrote home, you studied art and history. You attempted a few terrible sketches. You tore apart your room, then put it back together.

Before you knew it, Thursday rolled around again. On longer days like this, when Snow had been away working for hours at a time, you’d doubled down on your efforts to get information, and after chipping away for just long enough, you finally managed to squeeze some tidbits out of Lucille. Namely that there was a certain gentleman’s club in the city that he used to frequent before his election as President. Snow’s old driver might know its name, she said.

“But that was long before he met you, ma’am, rest assured.” She added hurriedly.

“Of course. Thank you, Lucille. I think I’ve kept you for long enough. Goodnight.”

Snow had been gone for the whole day, and you weren’t sure if he’d come home yet, so as you headed up to your room, you quietly wandered a little further down the hallway, to check if there was any light beneath his door. There wasn’t. Good. You were glad he wouldn’t be continuing this routine of his. Maybe this Thursday night, you could sleep peacefully.

With a sigh, and mulling over what you’d learned today, you returned to your room, poured a drink, then collapsed into bed.

This night was as sleepless as the rest, and you’d been drifting - not uncomfortably - in and out. A storm was brewing outside, and the sounds of howling wind began to keep you alert. You rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling, then glanced towards your door. Snow must’ve come home at some point, and very late at that, because dim lights had been turned on in the hallway. Paranoia crept into your mind, slowly poisoning your thoughts and turning you inside out.

It didn’t take long before the feeling pushed you to roll out of bed, slide on a dressing gown, and crack open your door. This time, you couldn’t hear footsteps, or anything that might arise suspicion. You closed the door again. Waited. Then looked around your room, at the messy sheets and the half finished glass of liquor on the nightstand. You rarely drank alone, but these past few weeks had been getting to you, fucking with your head. Coriolanus Snow had driven you to this.

The wind got louder, and you knew you were too wired to sleep, so you stood by your window and finished the glass.

You’d never been good with mysteries. You wanted to know everything, all the time. Know who had power over you, know precisely how to take it away. Know exactly what was happening around you at any given moment. But most of all, you didn’t like being played for a fool.

And sure, the ethics of it had never been discussed between the two of you. Your business was strictly professional, but when you weren’t allowed to sleep around, why could he?

In fact, how dare he?

You poured another glass, straight whiskey. Downed it, pacing your room, back and forth between the door and the window, running your fingers along the ridges of the crystal glass. You thought about him, comfortably in his room, not a care in the world.

How dare he.

You weren’t sure if it was the drink or the buildup of your situation that had your blood boiling, but it didn’t matter. You were incensed. His behaviour was an insult to your name, to your family’s name. Sure, this relationship was a sham, but all the more reason for him to act with basic fucking respect. Sleeping with - and very obviously, at that - a whore, who had a bad habit of leaving the door cracked open, was unacceptable.

You were running hot, and if you knew one thing for certain, it was that when Snow met with fire, he was going to melt. You’d make sure of it.

Your feet took you into the hallway, with the decidedness that this would be the last time.

You rushed down the corridor with a tightly bottled rage that was about to burst, words hot on your tongue and demanding to be spoken, until you turned the corner and saw Snow’s door half open. You stopped in your tracks. Reassessed, then stepped closer, slowly, steadily. Remembering what you were there for.

Then, as you got close enough to see inside - right there, without you even having to step past the threshold, were the two of them, lit by a table lamp, Snow sat on the desk chair as the girl rode him to high heaven, obscene noises getting louder. As you approached you saw Snow’s face again, eyes shut, breath laboured, and you couldn’t believe that anyone just walking by would be able to see this. They were fucking like animals, out in the open. You didn’t know how or why you drew closer still, closing in on them. The girl’s head was dropped down to his shoulder, back facing you, and couldn’t see you unless she turned, but Snow? He was practically facing the door, almost as if he’d been…

No. It couldn’t be. Could it?

But you didn’t have time to think it through, because Snow’s eyes blinked open, and you knew. He was looking right at you, blue eyes piercing into yours, sharp and dangerous like he was going in for the kill. You stood there, jaw dropped, unable to look away. In what world could you walk in on someone like this, and feel like they held all the cards, and you none? That was how he looked at you; like you’d been there watching the whole time, and this was all a show, playing out exactly as he’d planned it. Like somehow, despite all your best efforts, he’d landed on top.

It was like he read your mind, because he wet his lips, unblinking as the blonde writhed on his lap, and fucking smirked.

a/n: can’t wait for them to hate fuck after this (oh sorry forgot i’m the author for a sec) thanks for reading <3

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[luvergirl-866]

something like love

part - 2

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 5.3k

c/w - language, slight angst if you squint, emetephobia warning

a/n - hi!! it’s odd for me to post two days in a row, so try not to get used to it! i just already had this written and wanted to share it so baddd. hope yall enjoy! also, this is unedited so once again, im begging, lmk if there’s any mistakes. and ofc tell me what you think!!

To be honest, Azzi hadn’t really known what to expect when they put their plan in motion. She and Paige had gone over the logistics, sure, but they’d only really skimmed over how they’d act in public, and whether they’d hold hands, and what kind of flirty things they’d say to each other. Azzi sort of regrets her decision to let Paige lead the way, because that makes her feel like she’s going into this blind, with no idea of how Paige is going to act when they’re together now. No idea of how things are going to change.

It is only the morning after their movie night, and here is what Azzi has learned so far:

For one, Paige doesn’t actually seem to be that big on hand-holding. The only time she held Azzi’s hand last night was when she led her to the doorway once the night was over, waving their joined hands goodbye to their friends.

Paige does, however, seem to be big on basically everything else.

Once the girls were done gushing and celebrating and asking (very invasive) questions, they’d all decided on some horror movie they’d seen the trailer for. Azzi hates horror movies and she guesses this is probably the reason why Paige advocated so hard to watch one. Because as soon as they turned the lights off and the scary intro music started, Paige wrapped her arm around Azzi’s shoulders, pulling her flush against her side. They stayed this way for around ten minutes before Paige claimed she had to use the restroom, but before she left, she kissed Azzi’s head and mumbled, “Don’t get too scared while I’m gone, baby,” into her ear. Azzi had swallowed thickly and nodded, and pretended not to notice Jana wiggling her eyebrows at her.

When the first real jumpscare happened, and Azzi screamed along with a few of the other girls, Paige chuckled quietly and leaned down to whisper, “You’re such a baby about this kinda stuff, Az.” Azzi had reacted how she normally would, slapping Paige on the arm and rolling her eyes, defending herself with a, “Shut up, I know you’re scared, too.” But what wasn’t normal was the way Paige fondly shook her head and nuzzled her cheek with her nose before pressing a kiss there, and then leaned back up to pull Azzi into her side once more, this time protectively. Azzi swore she could hear her own heart racing for a solid five minutes afterwards. It didn’t help that KK had looked back at them and said, “Aw, y’all grossing me out with how cute you are,” before turning back to the movie. Paige had snickered. Azzi had taken a deep breath, which did nothing to help with her composure.

Almost an hour into the movie, Paige rested her hand on Azzi’s thigh and squeezed, and she didn’t give Azzi any time to tame the fire in her belly before leaning into her ear once more and whispering, “You’re so stiff. You gotta chill,” and so, tamping down the need to cross her legs, Azzi’d obeyed and leaned her head on Paige’s shoulder.

At some point or another, she must’ve fallen asleep there, because all she remembers after that is a gentle pressure on her shoulder, jostling her softly, and a voice from her dreams saying, “Az, it’s late, we gotta go. Time to wake up, baby,” and Azzi opened her eyes to find Paige sitting beside her, giving her this look that Azzi had only ever caught glimpses of, and it was so soft she had to shut her eyes again.

“Thought we were sleeping over,” Azzi mumbled, stretching and then turning onto her side, realizing vaguely that somebody must’ve thrown a blanket over her.

“Nah, I figured we better sleep in an actual bed tonight.” Paige stroked back a strand of Azzi’s hair with incredible tenderness before taking her by the waist and hefting her into a sitting position. “C’mon. I’ll take you to mine, okay?”

Azzi had nodded sleepily, and had let Paige say all their goodnights while she hung off her arm with lidded eyes. Even in her half-sleep state, she didn’t miss the way the girls elbowed each other and gave knowing glances.

Now, Azzi stares at Paige, who lays sleeping just next to her, hair all splayed out and mouth hanging open. Azzi smiles softly at her. She and Paige have slept in the same bed hundreds—maybe thousands—of times, but this is different, because Azzi is allowing herself to pretend that it is. She imagines reaching out and waking Paige the same way Paige woke her last night, gently and lovingly, and then sharing a lazy morning together as a couple where they joke about morning breath and talk about their plans and hold each other.

But Paige grumbles, then shifts and blinks her eyes open, rubbing them a little before finding Azzi laying next to her. She smiles, but it’s not the same smile from last night—it’s not that tender, adoring smile, but rather the one Azzi is used to—the wide, toothy, beautiful but friendly one. “Oh, hey. Morning.”

“Morning,” Azzi mumbles, her indulgent fantasy broken, and she reminds herself just how careful she’ll have to be while she and Paige are doing this. She cannot allow herself too many delusions, cannot let her imagination run wild with the idea that their act is real. She cannot let herself get burned by this.

“You kept stealing the blankets last night.”

Azzi lies onto her back to avoid eye contact, staring up at the ceiling. “No, Paige, you were taking up the entire bed.”

“Cap,” Paige says, shoving her shoulder. Rough, friendly. Sisterly.

It’s silent for a second and then Paige turns onto her side. “Hey.” Azzi can feel her eyes burning into the side of her head. “We did pretty good last night, yeah? We seemed super in love and shit?”

Azzi doesn’t chance a glance over, staring stubbornly at the ceiling. “Yeah, P,” she agrees. “We did.”

——————————————

Finals come far too fast.

The last month of school is always hectic, and this year has been no different—Azzi’s spent the vast majority of her time studying, drinking her nostalgia away with friends, and then more studying on top of that.

Oh, and pretending to be in a committed relationship with Paige. That too.

Some days are easier than others—it’s not like they’re being forced to undress each other in front of an audience or anything. They haven’t even had to utilize pet names much. But it’s still…different. So different. Paige was touchy-feely with Azzi even before they started ‘dating’, so now, if they ever sit more than an inch apart or walk somewhere without wrapping their arms around each other, they get strange glances from their friends. A couple mornings ago, they were so hungover that they forgot about their whole act, and when they’d stumbled out of Paige’s room and began making breakfast without so much as a word to each other, KK had abrasively asked if their was ‘trouble in paradise’. Paige was all over her the rest of the day. After two weeks, Azzi is starting to get used to it.

At least they haven’t had to kiss. They haven’t even discussed it, and Azzi has been specifically avoiding that topic of conversation. She knows herself well enough to know that she can’t kiss her best friend and act normal about it.

Later, Azzi will curse herself for thinking this without knocking on wood after.

“So, we all know the rules of the game?”

“KK—“

“Girl, just answer the question!”

A pause, and then a bored chorus of yes’es.

“Yay!” With a big, tipsy smile on her face, KK places the empty beer bottle in the middle of the circle.

Paige groans and rests her head on Azzi’s shoulder. “KK, this is so fuckin’ lame.”

“For real!” Ice says from a few spots down. “We’re not in middle school.”

KK waves them off. “Girl, boo. Y’all are the lame ones. This‘ll be so much fun, you’ll be thanking me after.”

Everyone starts to groan in response to this, but Caroline, ever the mom, speaks up. “C’mon, guys, just play KK’s game.”

Unable to really say no to Caroline, the group shuts up. KK smiles excitedly. “Now that’s what I like to hear! Thank you, Carol.”

Azzi brings her hand up to rest on Paige’s back, and she’s proud that it almost comes naturally now, like her body knows that’s just what it’s supposed to do.

Nika breaks the peace a moment later with another teasing comment, which prompts KK to yell at her, and then everyone is talking amongst themselves, the room buzzing with late-night, drunk-college-students-before-finals energy.

Paige sighs deeply into Azzi’s shoulder, and she loves that she’s the only one who can hear it, who can feel it against her skin.

Putting her lips to Paige’s hair, Azzi mutters, “Wanna go downstairs?”

Downstairs is where Paige’s dorm is. Azzi’s is the floor they’re on now, and it’d probably make more sense to sleep there for the night. But Paige’s dorm, and more specifically, her bedroom, is where they’ve been gravitating to the past couple weeks. Azzi has always loved it there, the smell of Paige filling the very air, photos of the two of them on her nightstand, purple bedding so very Paige. And now it’s become something of a sanctuary, a way to escape their facade which can become cumbersome.

Usually, they’d be in bed by now, because Azzi likes to sleep early and Paige hasn’t been wanting to stay up without her. But Paige shakes her head at the question.

“No?” Azzi asks. “You’re not tired?”

“Mm, nah.” Paige glances up at her. “You?”

Azzi licks her lips. She swears Paige’s eyes track the movement, and linger for just a moment too long. She clears her throat. “Same.”

“Aight,” Paige says, turning back to her shoulder. “We can leave after this, ma.”

“Hey, lovebirds,” KK says, barely giving Azzi any time to shudder at Paige’s nickname. “Pay attention. You’re going first.”

Everybody’s looking directly at Azzi, and she shakes her head awkwardly. “Oh, no, I don’t think—“

“If you don’t wanna play, you gotta take a shot every round.”

Paige lifts her head up. “KK, that’s dumb. She doesn’t have to play if she don’t want to.”

KK smiles deviously. Paige flips her off, but Azzi pulls her hand down, rolling her eyes. “Okay, whatever.” She leans over into the middle of the circle, making Paige lean off of her, and spins the beer bottle.

It spins only twice before slowing down and, blessedly, landing on Aubrey.

The girls make a range of noises, mostly giggles, and then Aubrey leans into the circle to meet Azzi in the middle, smiling.

Once she gets close enough, Azzi whispers, “Liyah good with this?”

Aubrey raises her eyebrows. “I’on think it’s my girl we gotta be worried about.”

Confused, Azzi glances over her shoulder, and sees Paige staring intensely at them, bottom lip pulled between her teeth. The blank look on her usually lively face scares Azzi a little bit. She turns back to Aubrey, who also looks a little afraid.

“You’re good,” Azzi reassures her, because she is. Aubrey doesn’t know that Paige is just acting, because she’s the possessive type and of course, if she and Azzi were really dating, she’d be jealous even of her own teammates. But Azzi can’t tell Aubrey this, so instead, she leans forward and kisses her.

Aubrey lets out a noise, surprised, and it makes Azzi laugh because she probably should’ve warned her she was going in. The kiss can’t last more than two seconds before there’s a hand fisting Azzi’s shirt, pulling her back, and Paige is saying, “Alright, alright,” quite gruffly.

Azzi’s stomach does flips at Paige’s rough voice, but she’s tipsy (maybe a little bit more than tipsy) so she leans up to nuzzle Paige’s cheek rather than shying away from her. “Somebody’s jealous.”

“Yeah,” Paige says, “no one should be up on you like that.” And they’re obviously acting—but when Azzi pulls away to look at her, there’s something on her face that isn’t quite fake enough.

But then she’s smiling and saying, “Stop tryna steal my girl, Aubrey,” and Azzi’s heart contracts like it always does when Paige says stuff like this nowadays.

Across the circle, Aubrey takes her spin. It lands on Ice, and Ice is considerably more drunk than any of them, so the whole thing is pretty slobbery. The next spin—Nika—is mostly the same.

It goes like that for a while, a few people taking shots instead of kissing, and a few others taking shots for the hell of it. The bottle lands on Azzi once again and she fills her shot glass to the brim before taking it, needing to dull the feeling of Paige’s hand wrapped possessively around her waist.

By the time the bottle lands on Paige, they’re all pretty damn drunk.

Azzi knows it’s just a game, but she’s always hated seeing Paige with other people, and now is no different. Ashlynn laughs, because this whole thing is pretty fucking funny, but Azzi can’t help but sulk, glad to be under the guise of a relationship—glad she doesn’t have to hide her feelings for awhile.

Before leaning into the circle, Paige looks at Azzi and says, all lighthearted and buzzed, “Don’t pout at me, baby.”

There’s that roughness again, that tone in the back of her throat, and Azzi squirms when Paige presses a wet kiss to her cheek.

Paige and Ashlynn kiss, but they both laugh kind of hysterically so their teeth are pretty much just clashing, and when they’re done Paige wraps an arm around Azzi’s shoulders and spins for herself. And it spins, and spins, and spins, so many times Azzi gets dizzy watching it—

It gets to Amari, and it slows.

It passes by Inês, barely moving anymore.

The neck gets back to Paige, and Azzi wonders for one drunk second, What if it lands on Paige and she has to kiss herself? and she doesn’t even have the time to laugh at how ridiculous that is before the bottle stops, pointing almost accusingly at her.

The girls all cheer, oohing and laughing.

Paige laughs too, easy and casual because they’re supposed to be a couple, they’re supposed to have done this a thousand times, it’s supposed to be normal, normal, Azzi, act normal.

They should have known this would be inevitable.

Paige turns to her, still smiling but with a concerned, almost imperceptible furrow between her brow. Azzi obviously can’t refuse this kiss, can’t take a shot rather than kiss her girlfriend in front of all these people who know she’s her girlfriend.

So instead, she wills herself to nod and then she takes Paige by the collar and kisses her.

Strangely enough, the first thing Azzi takes note of isn’t actually the way Paige’s lips feel touching hers for the first time, or the fact that their teammates are watching them, wolf-whistling and giggling amongst each other.

No, instead, it’s the way Paige smells—the fact that the hair tickling Azzi’s cheek is sweet, vanilla, which means she washed her hair today. And it’s the way her hands cup Azzi’s jaw, cradling her like they do this all the time, thumbs rubbing gently against her cheekbones in a gesture soft enough to make Azzi gasp into her mouth.

She only snaps into it and really realizes, oh, Paige is actually kissing me right now, when Paige’s tongue teases against Azzi’s bottom lip. And it’s just for a second, Paige pulling away fast enough that Azzi thinks she must have imagined it, but it leaves her lip wet.

After that, Paige sits back, smiling at her but there’s that furrow between her brow again, imperceptible to anyone who doesn’t know her as well as Azzi does, and she’s stroking Azzi’s cheek like a tick now, like she’s trying to figure something out.

The moment ends when the girls all clap like white people on a plane, and Azzi isn’t even paying attention to the teasing and cooing, because she’s too busy staring at Paige, wondering what she’s thinking about right now, wondering what about that kiss made her feel so damn…safe.

Whenever she thought about her first kiss with Paige, she expected butterflies, light-headedness—maybe even nausea. Comfort, the thing you feel when you come home to your small town after a semester away—that was not expected.

Paige blinks, that strange look on her face disappearing, and Azzi realizes that she’s still holding onto the front of her shirt. She pushes her away teasingly, and Paige laughs, wrapping an arm around her as she turns to the girls, waving off their teasing remarks, and as Azzi watches her profile, feels the wetness on her bottom lip cool, she knows that she is falling and thinks nobody will be there to catch her when she reaches the bottom.

——————————————

The next morning, Azzi wakes up and immediately regrets it.

Paige’s window blanket must’ve fallen down last night, because the sun is shining through the room and it is…loud. She rolls onto her side to try and get away from it, and then that problem is fixed but another rises in the form of an abrupt tummyache. And Azzi prides herself on being a strong person, but as soon as she gets a tummyache it’s over for her.

Also, maybe the loud sun problem isn’t as fixed as she thought because her head is beginning to pound. She can feel it beating against her skull in time with the beating of her heart, and somehow that gives her a feeling akin to motion sickness, which makes her tummy hurt worse. She is probably going to throw up very soon, and should get up so she doesn’t do it all over Paige’s bed, but that’s where the third problem arises: she is so comfy. How can she ever be expected to leave this bed when she’s so goddamn comfy?

“Yo, are you gonna puke?”

Azzi groans. “Probably.”

Azzi’s facing away, so she can’t see what Paige’s doing, but she hears sheets rustle and then a pair of footsteps on the hardwood floor. Soon enough, Paige is standing in front of her, holding a hand out. ���Come on, I’ll help you.”

Azzi looks up, and that makes her stomach turn again, the back of her neck burning. “I don’t want to.”

“I’m gonna kill you if you puke on my bed. Like, actually.”

If Azzi threw up on Paige’s bed, Paige would probably usher her to the bathroom, give her some water, and clean the sheets without complaining about it until a few days later. But Azzi still doesn’t think that’d be a good idea, so she sits herself up and is about to accept Paige’s hand when she realizes this is much more urgent than she thought. Almost as soon as her feet hit solid ground, the bile rises in her throat at an alarming rate and she has to run across the hall. She doesn’t make it to the toilet but manages the bathtub, which is arguably better.

Paige is there once she’s done, tying her hair up into a ponytail. “That it?”

Azzi spits. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Okay. Lemme grab you some pepto or somethin’. Hang tight.”

Once Paige walks away, Azzi wipes her mouth and all at once, like the tide coming in, remembers how the lips now coated in spit and bile were yesterday on Paige’s.

Of course, she also remembers the pet names, the affection, the flash of jealousy in Paige’s eyes that may or may not have been there. But it’s the kiss, the wonderful, tipsy, warm kiss that wrestles its way to the forefront of her pounding head and stays there, the memory replaying quite a few times before Paige comes back with pepto bismol and water. “Here.”

Azzi looks disdainfully at the bright pink medicine. “I don’t think I can swallow that, P.”

“Whoa, pause.“

“Chill,” Azzi says, rolling her eyes. “Gimme that.” she takes them from Paige’s hand and manages to swallow one before throwing up again, this time with Paige by her side to hold onto her while her shoulders heave.

“Aw,” Paige tuts sympathetically when she’s done. “My lil lightweight.”

Azzi rests her head on the edge of the tub while Paige turns on the tap, washing the bile away.

Azzi lifts her head enough to see Paige sit against the wall across from her. “Feel okay now?”

Her throat burns, and her tummy hurts, and throwing up in front of the love of your life is not a glamorous experience. But with Paige here with her, taking care of her, she doesn’t feel too bad.

If it only weren’t for that really good fucking kiss.

Azzi nods weakly even though she doesn’t know the answer, because saying ‘I hate the fact that we kissed last night, not because I regret it—I’ve been wanting to do it since we were kids in high school—but because now I’m worried I won’t be able to keep my feelings hidden for much longer which is worrisome because we haven’t even left for Montana yet, and also I wonder what this means for us and our fake relationship, because if it means kissing will become a normal thing I don’t know if I can do this’ would probably be weird.

“K, good. Thanks for not puking in my bed.”

Azzi smiles weakly at her, mouth still tasting like bile. How could Paige ever return her feelings when she has seen her like this a hundred other times?

Paige reaches a socked toe out to nudge Azzi’s calf. “Okay, you said you feel better, but you still look kinda…green.”

Azzi looks Paige in the eye, and manages maybe a second of eye contact before she’s thinking about how they looked at each other just like this after they kissed last night, and there it goes, the moment playing in her head once and then again. She can’t help but groan and rest her burning cheek to the cool tub.

And the universe should go to hell for making them best friends because Paige gets it instantly. “Oh, this is about last night.”

Suddenly the cool tub isn’t helping anymore. Azzi weakly shakes her head, but she knows the truth is showing plainly on her face.

“Yeah, whatever.” Paige pushes herself off the wall, wiggling her eyebrows. Azzi senses trouble. “It was a good kiss, huh?”

Azzi balks, then tries to reel it in. “That’s not…Paige…”

“Hold up,” Paige says, looking genuinely a little confused. “You don’t think I’m a good kisser?”

“No, no, but I just…” how can Paige talk about this so casually, like it was meaningless, something to be joked about? Azzi envies her lack of feelings. “Don’t you think we should talk about it?”

“Uh, I mean…” Paige scratches the side of her neck, and it occurs to Azzi that the bathroom isn’t an amazing place to talk about this. “Yeah, sure. If you want to.”

Not exactly an encouraging answer. Azzi strives on nonetheless. “It was our first kiss.”

“Yeah. Guess we coulda planned it better.”

“Yeah, I guess…” Azzi trails off. “Don't you think it was sort of…weird?”

Paige frowns again. “Damn! If you didn’t like the kiss just say that.”

Azzi hopes she can blame her flushed cheeks on the hangover. “P, I don’t mean it like that. It’s just that you’re my best friend—“

“That’s me.” Paige smiles proudly. It’s too fucking cute.

“And,” Azzi says pointedly, “I feel like, weird, about kissing you.”

She waits for Paige to answer, but Paige just stares, apparently waiting for her, too. Azzi sighs. “I worry we won’t be able to fake it well enough.”

“We did fine last night, didn’t we?”

“We were drunk last night.”

Paige makes a face. “I guess. But I feel like we’d do good even if we were sober, y’know?” She leans her head back against the wall. “And it’s not like kissing’s a big deal, anyway.”

Azzi’s eyes drop down to the tiled floor, cold against the thin material of her sleep pants. “Maybe not to you,” she mumbles.

There’s a shuffling, and then Paige is closer than before, nudging Azzi’s knee with her own. “Yeah, you’re right, that’s my bad.” There’s a silence, both of them thinking, and Azzi wonders if maybe Paige is thinking the same thing she is. About how their kiss last night felt…different. Different than a kiss between two friends, different than the other kisses with other people felt. And the look Paige gave her afterward…

But then Paige says, “Wanna practice, ma?” and Azzi was a fool to ever think they’d be on the same track.

Azzi splutters for a moment. “Practice?”

“Yeah. To prepare, in case we have to do it again,” Paige says casually, like it’s no big deal at all.

“I don’t think that’s…that’s not—“ Azzi cuts herself off on a sigh. Then she looks at Paige, really looks at her, and that’s when she catches the glint in Paige’s eyes, and she realizes—she’s messing with her. She’s taking advantage of Azzi’s obvious shyness about this whole thing.

What a little shithead.

Making a quick decision, Azzi leans forward a little bit, glancing down, then back up, looking at Paige through her lashes before she licks her lip.

Paige clocks it, tracks it with her eyes. Just like last night.

Azzi swallows down the nervousness and wills herself to be normal, reminds herself that this is Paige, and she has no reason to sink into her shell when she has the opportunity to take the upper hand.

“Okay,” Azzi says after a moment.

Paige’s eyes flit up, away from her lips. “Okay?”

Azzi nods, then lifts her hand to place over Paige’s knee, bare in her sleep shorts, before she dances her fingers delicately up her thigh. “You wanna practice kissing me, Paige?”

Paige swallows thickly. And then she nods.

Okay. So. That’s…unexpected.

Paige wants to kiss her.

That would explain the lip-ogling.

Azzi has half a mind to make the biggest mistake of her life and close the gap between them, but then she remembers they are sitting on the bathroom floor, and, ew, she just threw up. Twice.

Azzi manages what she hopes is a cocky smirk and leans away. “Well, too bad. Sick, remember?”

Paige’s eyes widen, like she’s just been snapped out of a trance. “Oh. Yeah.” She backs off then, relief coursing through Azzi, before she’s standing up and dusting off her shorts as she reaches down to help Azzi up. “You good to stand?”

Ok. So they’re not talking about it. Cool.

Azzi nods and takes Paige’s hand, her palm warm against her own as their fingers entangle for the two seconds it takes to go from sitting to standing, feeling a little dizzy from the altitude once she’s up.

Paige frowns at her. “You still look kinda messed up. How ‘bout you lay down. I can go get us some food? Gotta fuel up for all the studying today.”

Azzi groans, palming her face. “No, I forgot about finals.”

“Azzi Fudd? Forgetting about finals?” Paige teases, leading them out of the bathroom. “Last night really fucked you up, huh?”

“Yeah,” Azzi mumbles. “It was definitely the alcohol that did it.”

Paige glances back at her but doesn’t say anything, sitting Azzi down on the edge of the bed once they get there. “Okay, sit here and chill out. Lemme know if you need to puke again.” She smiles down at her, and Azzi smiles weakly back, before the older girl is turning on her heel and walking out of the room, closing the door gently behind her. Another door opens somewhere down the hall and then one of the girls’ voices mixes in with Paige’s as the roommates converse too quietly for Azzi to really hear. She sighs and flops down on the bed, hands wringing nervously at her stomach as she stares at the ceiling.

She has really gotten herself into some shit this time.

Her phone starts buzzing from its place on the nightstand, and Azzi straightens up to check it, her mother’s face flashing on the screen. Anxiety coils in Azzi’s belly at the sight of her mother’s contact, which usually brings her so much comfort.

Ever since she and Paige ‘came out’ to their friends, Azzi has been avoiding her mother like the plague. She knows she should just come out and tell Katie, but she’s not sure what she should tell her.

Azzi knows that Katie would disapprove if she found out about their little scheme, the woman avidly against lying. But if Azzi were to tell Katie what they’ve been telling everyone else—that they are a disgustingly happy, perfectly real couple—she’d be lying to her mother. And with Katie being her main confidante throughout her entire life, Azzi’s never really been good at that. She hasn’t gotten enough practice.

Not without guilt, Azzi lets it go to voicemail, holding her phone close to her chest afterwards, lying back down. She feels nauseous again at just the thought of lying to her mom. But if she came clean, would Katie make her feel guilty about it? Urge her to tell the truth, even if it meant not helping Paige like she promised she would?

Just as Azzi’s about to head back to the bathroom, Paige comes to the bedroom, leaning through the doorframe. “Toast’s almost done, Az.”

Azzi nods but doesn’t move. Paige lingers, sensing that Azzi’s going to say something.

Finally, after some internal debate, Azzi says, “What do you think I should tell my mom?”

Paige frowns. “I thought you talked to her already.”

Azzi shrugs. “We haven’t called. I’ve been avoiding her, but I feel bad about it.”

Paige bites her lip like she always does when she’s thinking, and it eases some of the tension out of Azzi’s shoulders, softening her around the edges. She leans against the doorframe, looking right at Azzi. “Well, what do you wanna do?”

Azzi shrugs helplessly.

Paige scrunches her nose (very cutely) and says, “Honestly, I don’t think we should tell her. Not yet, at least.”

Azzi heaves out a breath, not liking the sound of that answer. “You think?”

“Yeah. Have you met your mom?” Paige smiles fondly. “Lady can’t keep a secret for shit.”

“You’re right.” Azzi hadn’t thought of that, the fact her mom’s the town gossip. “She’d probably have the truth out before we could even finish telling her.”

Paige nods in agreement. “Exactly. Plus, it’s easier to tell everyone the same story, right?”

“I guess.” Unsteady, Azzi pushes herself up from the bed, walking over to Paige slowly. “You still sure this is a good idea?”

“Even if I wasn’t,” Paige says, “we’re too deep in it now.”

Azzi looks up at her solemnly. “The point of no return.”

“Uh-huh.” Paige sighs out a breath, looking almost regretfully at the girl in front of her. “Sorry again, about asking you to do this. I know it’s kinda a whole thing now.”

Azzi’s shaking her head before Paige can even finish. “I already told you, it’s fine. We go to Montana soon, and before we know it we’ll be done.” Azzi’s stomach sort of sinks at the thought. No more flirting, no more cheek-kissing, no more Paige protectively slinging an arm around her shoulder while they’re in public like she’s telling everyone Azzi’s her’s.

Azzi manages what she hopes is an optimistic smile anyway. “Let’s go eat breakfast. And then I’ll call my mom back and we can tell her together?”

Almost as if reading her mind, Paige easily wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close as she leads her down the hallway. “Alright, ma. Sounds good to me.”

@smiths-fan--13 @ch12334

[jsprnt]

meeting your boyfriend’s parents

arda güler x turkish! reader

A/N: based on this request, thank uu 🤍 my first arda fic!!

W/C: 2.175 (yes, I got ahead of myself)

"is this too much?"

you ask yourself, thoroughly examining your outfit in the mirror. you run your hands down the soft fabric, grunting in indecisiveness.

turning around, you're greeted by a huge pile of clothes on your bed. a combination of dresses, jeans and shirts crumpled up from the way you'd thrown them behind you, after trying them on.

jeans with a sweater, too hot.

a pair of trousers with a blouse, too formal.

a skirt with a cropped top, too much skin showing for a first meeting with your boyfriend's parents.

the weather was becoming warmer these days, so you also had to keep the fabric and thickness of the clothes in mind.

"fuck this.." you mumble, sitting on your bed, the clothes barely allowing you to see you pink bedding. you lay down, the clothes becoming your soft pillow, apart from the buttons on the items, digging into your neck and the back of your head.

you and arda have been together for a few months now. you had gotten acquainted with him through mutual friends when he had just transferred to real madrid.

at first, you were a little nervous, meeting new people was exactly your thing. though, your friends had convinced you to meet him, only due to the shared background you both had.

since arda was born, he'd never lived anywhere else other than türkiye. born and raised partially in the capital, ankara. only to move to istanbul to play at his childhood dream club, fenerbahçe.

the years had gone by fast, and when a huge opportunity came, he finally decided it was time for him to leave and move onto one of the biggest clubs in the world.

you had met arda at a small gathering, specifically a surprise birthday party you attend for one of your close friends. 

the night was full of fun games, karaoke, and the best of all the multiple 'halay' dance routines.

you'd found arda to be a very sweet person, the second you met him. the way he so gently shook your hand, and gave you the prettiest smile you'd ever seen on a boy, had you mesmerized instantly.

obviously, you knew who he was before you met him. it was unavoidable to not know who 'arda güler' was, especially as a turkish person.

growing up around adults who watched and played football religiously, you were definitely aware of the debate.

which football club is türkiye's biggest and best?

was it the 'lion's', galatasaray, who had won the league last year? or was it the 'yellow canaries', fenerbahçe, who were first on the 'Süper Lig's all-time table'?

some would even nominate the 'black eagles', beşiktaş as candidates.

since all three of these clubs are based in the eurasian city of istanbul, derbys were an absolute show every time.

the excitement, the nerves, the turkish anger issues revealing themselves when someone gets fouled, or the thrill of seeing players of the opposite team fight each other, after a highly emotional match at full-time.

to see arda right in front of you, after seeing him on tv all the time was incredibly weird. but, you got used to it fairly quickly after seeing how humble and kind he was to everyone around him, whether he knew them or not..

you rub your nose with your fingers, eyes itching from the amount of dust in your room. you pause your movements for a second, sniffing softly and looking at the sun shining through your window.

the combined actions finally allow you to sneeze, and you don't waste time before you stand up to and go open your windows.

you were supposed to be picked up in an hour, so you had to hurry up and choose something to wear.

you had already texted your friends asking for advice on how you should dress. it didn't help much though, because whatever they said you should wear, you'd change your mind about it last minute. finding an issue with the clothing items, and then having to chuck more clothes on your bed as you rummaged through your closet.

your mind becomes busy with getting distracted by the beautiful weather outside, and the neighborhood children playing and laughing together.

though, you immediately whip your head around when your phone goes off. processing and realizing the ringtone, the one you had specifically set for arda, you walk over.

you sigh in irritation as you look around for your phone, finally catching a glimpse of the white case, from underneath a single black sock.

you're entire demeanor shifts when you read the caller id, smiling to yourself when you pick up. propping the phone in position, against the alarm clock on your nightstand, so he can see you properly.

"aşkım?" (my love) he says, the sweet nickname falling off his lips. his phone incredibly close to his face, as he shifts and moves, from what you can see, his car.

"arda, why did you call?" you question, grinning when you can finally see his full face. he moves his arm, playing with his hair as he smiles back.

"just finished training, showered and I'm coming over right now.."

"right now?" you panic, pointing downwards with your finger to confirm. "right now? but I'm not ready yet- and you said be ready by 5:45.." you blurt, already getting up to your feet, eyes flickering around the room as you forget he's on the phone for a moment.

"hey, calm down.. we have a lot of time, I just thought I'd come over since I know you're nervous.."

you look back at the screen, brows furrowing in confusion.

"that’s very sweet, but you just gave me a heart attack.."

"I'm almost at your place, canım. (my life) don't worry.."

you nod back, your heart calming down slowly.

"I don't know what to wear.." you say, running a hand over your face.

"I'll help you, I'll be over in a minute.."

"okay.." you mumble, waving quickly before telling him you'll hang up and wait until he arrives.

your thoughts are interrupted by an annoying yell and then a scoff.

"y/n! the footballer is here!"

you chuckle at your brother's voice, it's undeniably funny how much he liked galatasaray. even though arda had almost transferred to real madrid months ago, from fenerbahçe, your younger brother had vowed not to like him ever since he heard about you two.

well, he did cave when you asked him if he'd come along to some real madrid matches..

"I'm coming.." you shout back, jumping when you come across your brother. he scoffs at you, hurriedly stomping up the stairs to probably bother your older brother.

"arda?" you question, smiling when you notice him in the living room. he looks up immediately, walking up to bring you into a tight hug.

"I've missed you, tatlım.." (my sweetie) he whispers against your ear, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

you look at him, grinning from ear to ear. you hadn't seen him since he had left for an important match in a different country, so it was practically your catch up dinner too.

"I missed you too.." you reply, planting a kiss to his cheek. without waiting for him to say anything else, you drag him towards your bedroom, showing him the disaster.

"did a tornado visit your room, and should I be concerned?" he asks, squinting at the pile of clothes.

"I don't know what to wear.." you groan, throwing yourself onto your bed.

you watch arda walk closer, his hands reaching out to grab a slightly wrinkled floral blue dress.

"this one." he firmly states, turning around to grab a pair of white kitten heels from your shoe rack.

"and this.." he says, presenting the two items like a football shirt.

muscle memory, you guess.

you sit up, fixing your posture as you analyze the combination.

"that's not too much?" you ask, getting some hope.

"what do you mean? this is perfect, my parents would love it.."

he watches your unsure expression, placing the dress on your bed and the shoes on the floor.

"try it on for me, okay?" he asks, nudging your chin up, so he can look you in the eyes.

"I'll wait for you in the living room, maybe b/n will join me.."

minutes pass, and you've pulled the dress on successfully. fidgeting with the fabric, you smile, starting to feel satisfied. already thinking of what jewelry and other accessories you'll style the dress with.

hurrying up, you walk into the living room, surprised when you can actually see both your brothers sitting with your boyfriend. and it didn't look like either of them had said anything crazy to arda.

they looked, strangely happy and relaxed..

"what do you think?" you ask, raising your brows at the three boys.

you're bombarded by compliments, and almost gawk as your older brother calls you 'pretty'.

had arda replaced him with other person while you were getting dressed?

without much more thinking, you run back to your room. pulling on the rest of your accessories and fixing your appearance.

"I'm more scared of meeting your sister, than meeting your parents.." you confess, playing with the ring on arda's finger, looking up at where the driver is taking you.

"my sister's not going to kill you.." he chuckles, looking down at your intertwined fingers.

"still.."

you've heard the horror stories. girl's meeting their 'sister-in-law', only to find out how incredibly mean and protective they are about their younger brother.

deep inside, you knew his sister would be nice. he'd told you so many times about her wish of wanting to meet you.

it was just scary to meet three new people at once. especially those closest to your boyfriend. you had to get along, no questions asked.

you fidget with the bouquet of flowers in your hand. other hand intertwined with arda's, as you waited for his family to open the front door.

"hoşgeldiniz.." hearing the welcoming greeting in turkish you immediately tense up. arda seems to notice, looking at you and squeezing your hand reassuringly, before you step in.

you try to smile when you make eye contact with his mother, her loving arms coming to wrap around you. you greet each other with two, traditional kisses on each cheek, the worries in your heart slowly melting away.

you hand the flowers to her, and watch as the smile on her grow, an exact replica of your boyfriend’s smile..

you watch as arda hands his sister the gift bag in his hand, a kilogram of baklava.

you almost drool at the thought of having the dessert with a cup of turkish tea, but stop yourself before you get ahead of yourself.

it doesn't take long before you're all seated at the dinner table. having greeted all three of his family members with a lot of affection.

the atmosphere was friendly, warmer than you had dreamt of. but, you should've expected it, especially with how loving and caring your boyfriend is.

you admire all the different types of food prepared for dinner. eyes catching on the 'manti' you, oh-so- loved. you could describe them as little dumplings, instead of soup they were mixed in with yogurt, a sauce of tomato paste, and a lot of spices.

with how small they looked, you could guess it took a long time to make. not to forget, the other types of food. 'mercimek soup', 'olive-leaf sarma', and a colorful 'çoban' salad to refresh your palate.

you almost drooled at just the sight of the delicious array of food, and the way it tasted was a million times better.

"so, what city are your parents from?" arda's dad asks, the insanely predictable question every uncle asks when they notice you're turkish. only to magically always know your dad in some way or another.

"my mother is from c/n, and my father is from c/n.." you answer, making sure you answer with the perfect pronunciation.

"oh, back when I was younger- around arda’s age. I worked in c/n. we had worked hard for our bread and butter, sending money to the family was the most important thing back then.."

and without noticing, you'd passed the 'meeting my boyfriend's family test'.

only, because everyone at the table started complaining loudly, comfortable enough with you, already- to act like that. indicating they had all heard the story he was going to tell, a million times before.

you chuckle, smile pulling on your lips, as you feel arda's hand slip onto yours. his palm resting on the back of your hand, as he pats it reassuringly.

you glance at your boyfriend, his boxy smile showing, as he calms you down.

"don't listen to him, or he'll talk your ear off, y/n. let's talk about something else.." his sister chimes in, leaning forward to ask you something to save you from the talk.

this could definitely become something you could get used to..

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 7: It's Not A Date

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary:  When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you neve expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team.  (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy.

Word Count: 4K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), sexism, swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, sexual tension. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

A/N: This chapter is just a little bit smaller than the others and it's a little bit of a filler, but I promise that it is preparing for the coming angst!

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

“I can’t believe you let him around those children. What were you thinking?” Annie asks wielding a curling iron like a sword. "He's a terrible influence!"

It was t-minus one hour and thirty minutes before the party started and Annie was doing your hair and makeup for the mission. Butcher decided that Ben and you would infiltrate and see if you could find anything suspicious inside, while Butcher, Frenchie, and Mm watched the streets outside the building.

Your chair was turned away from the scuffed vanity in Hughie's bedroom at the apartment the team shared. Why he had that you weren't sure, but you figured it must be for Annie. Her makeup bag, hair spray, gel, cream, curler, flat iron, and other paraphernalia was littering the soft butter colored top. There were more things sitting there than you knew the names of.

Annie had always been better at things like that than you. She'd done your hair and makeup for every high school dance and date you went on, so you'd agreed to let her do your hair and makeup for the mission. Not to mention you trusted her not to make you look too over the top or absolutely ridiculous.

As soon as she had gotten you into Hughie's bedroom she had practically pounced on you, demanding to know everything about the past few days that you had spent living in the apartment with Ben. You'd foolishly told her that you'd had to babysit the Wilson's children last night and she was horrified that you let them anywhere near him.

Granted you also would have had the same reaction if someone had told you that they had let Soldier Boy around little children.

But he wasn't terrible to them. You think to yourself. He was actually kind of sweet. It was the first time that you'd ever associate that word with Ben, but you believed that it was true. You remember how he sat with Marty at the kitchen table and allowed her to make a friendship bracelet for him. A bracelet, that he hadn't thrown away, despite what he'd told you after she gave it to him. You'd found it on the sink in the bathroom this morning when you got up, given a place of honor in the ceramic jewelry dish you used for your bracelets.

After Ben had gone out on his "date" you'd cleaned up, made your last cup of noodle, and then went to bed hoping to forget exactly what Ben was doing. The problem was that you were disappointed and you had no idea why. You'd tossed and turned thinking about Ben and the time you'd spent together watching the kids, until finally falling into an unsatisfying slumber.

Ben had sauntered through the front door at 3 am smelling like perfume and sweat, his hair tousled and standing up like someone had ran their fingers through it, while you were drinking a calming herbal tea from your favorite mug at the kitchen table in a post-nightmare haze. You'd had them your whole life following the accident that took the lives of your parents and was thankful that one hadn't hit when Ben was home. You didn't want to explain to him why you had woken up screaming and gasping for air just as you’d done since you were twelve years old.

When you'd first moved in to the apartment and you'd had the nightmare, Mike had banged against your front door, shouting for you to answer. He'd thought that someone was trying to kill you in the middle of the night, but you'd explained to him that you had nightmares and that you were okay.

The next time it happened, Mike's mother had left a large basket of herbal tea and homemade muffins outside the door of your apartment. Even though the muffins were almost inedible, it was incredibly sweet. You might not have wanted to date Mike, but he and his mother were some of the sweetest people you'd ever met.

When he saw you up, Ben had made a comment about you waiting up for him and stated that he was ready to go again if that's what you wanted, but you'd only waved your hand and rolled your eyes while taking another sip from the mug. You weren’t in the mood, not when you could still feel the chill of sweat against your skin and hear the sound of metal on concrete from the dream. He had sat at the table across from you and asked why you were still awake, you'd lied and told him that you couldn't sleep. You knew that he knew you were lying, but he only shrugged and went to take a shower while you finished your tea and fled to your bedroom to avoid him coming out in a towel again.

"He wouldn't leave. What was I supposed to do? Make him walk the plank?" You respond as Annie inserts the warm curling iron into your hair.

"He's just so-" She tugs your hair back as she curls it.

"It wasn't as bad as you think.” You consider thinking about how he let Martha make him a friendship bracelet and how he had held Joshua and made Joshua laugh. "He was actually kind of nice to Marty and to Josh.”

"Nice? Are you crazy! The guy's got a nuclear reactor in his chest and an uncontrollable temper. Why do you think it would be okay for him to be around children?”

"He didn't get angry or lose control. And I can't believe you're chastising me about this, the other day you were all for Ben and me sleeping together!"

"That wouldn't involve children." She takes another piece of your hair, gently wrapping it around the curling iron.

"Yeah, but it would still be him close to another human being-"

“He seems to be perfectly in control when he has sex. Or else there would be a string of destroyed apartments all over manhattan.”

"I can't believe you." You huff.

"So?"

"So what?"

"Have you guys kissed again?" She asks.

"I shouldn't have told you that." You grumble under your breath. "And can you keep your voice down? Ben can hear you."

He was in his old bedroom getting ready for the mission. The bedroom was exactly next to Annie and Hughie's bedroom, and you were sure that he was listening to Annie and you talk.

Because he can't keep his big nose out of anything. You think. Or rather can't keep his perfectly structured nose out of other people's business.

"I'm sure he has better things to do than listen to the two of us talk." Annie responds, but she begins to blast the ABBA gold album from her Bluetooth speaker, filling the room with the sound of 'Our Last Summer' "Come on-"

"Come on what?" You open one of your eyes to glare at her. "I told you it wasn't going to happen again."

"Why not?"

"You know why not. Ben is- Ben. And I don't want to waste my time with someone who's not interested in having a relationship." You shut your eye again to avoid her gaze.

"It's not a waste of time if he looks like that-" She trails off, inserting the curling iron one more time.

"I will agree that Ben is good-looking, but that's all he is. He doesn't care about other people, he only cares about himself and what feels good." You say it, but for the first time since you'd met Ben you weren't sure if it was true. Not after he spent his entire day yesterday helping you with the kids and not after he had bought you that bookshelf.

He cared enough to get that for you. A little voice whispers. But why? You wonder again. Why would he care about something as little as a bookshelf?

"You're making that face again." Annie says. "Did something happen?"

"No. I mean- he-" You sigh to yourself. "He keeps confusing me."

"How?"

"Well the other day he bought me a bookshelf."

"What? Why?"

"Because he said that stack of books in my bedroom was annoying him." You roll your eyes behind your eyelids.

"Why was he in your bedroom?" Annie's smirk is audible and you feel your cheeks heat.

"Shut up. He needed some clothes and I had some from the last time Darren stayed with me-"

Annie audibly groans when you mention your brother's name. They didn't get along. She thought that he was manipulative and that he used you. But you didn't see it. He was your brother, your blood, the only family you had left beside your grandmother and Annie.

"Please tell me he's not coming by soon. If he does I will be busy doing anything else."

"I don't know why the two of you can't just get along-" You sigh.

"Because he's the worst." Annie states loudly, dropping the curling iron and bringing the mascara brush up to your eyes.

"Can we please not have this conversation again?"

"Fine. Close." Annie holds up the mascara brush to your eyes. "Did you at least join one of those online dating apps or try to go on a date?"

"It’s been 3 days since we last talked about this-“ You feel the gentle stroke of the brush against your eyelashes.

“So?”

“No I haven’t.”

"Y/n-"

"I know, I know. I mean Jake did try to ask me out the other day but-"

"He WHAT?" Annie squeals, awkwardness about your brother forgotten. "Next time lead with that! Did you go out with him? Did you guys talk all night long?" Annie is hoping from foot to foot now, practically dancing to the music still blasting from the speaker on the dresser.

"I said no." You open your eyes to look at your friend.

"WHAT! Why?" She looks like you kicked a puppy. "He's so perfect for you! He likes plants and he's funny and he's got a great sense of humor, plus he's gorgeous and he's interested in you-"

"First he wanted to do something today and I knew Butcher had plans for me. Second, I didn't know he was asking me out, Ben told me he was." You close your eyes again so Annie can continue to do your makeup.

"Wait, Ben was there when he asked you out?" 

"We went to IKEA to get a couch for the apartment and Jake showed up and asked me out." You explain.

"You took Ben to IKEA?"

"He'd never gone there before, can you believe that?" It made you smile as you remembered how surprised he had been when you went inside. You’d had fun with him, walking around, testing out the couches, it almost felt… normal. And you kind of got the impression that Ben had a good time too. It was kind of cute when he did everyday things, when you saw him in normal settings and he was just a little bit awkward because he still couldn't figure out how to act in another time period.

"Yes I can, he's a million years old. Let's circle back to you saying no to the PERFECT man."

"He's not a million." You defend Ben. "And Jake's not perfect." You frown to yourself, thinking about the fact that Jake wasn't a supe. It wasn't something that you had cared about before, but ever since Ben brought up the idea of you "snapping Jake in half" it scared you.

Because what if I did? What if I hurt him? You didn’t know how Ben had sex so often with people who weren't supes. Maybe he just doesn't care if he does. Or maybe he’s done it so much that he’s able to control himself.

"What do you mean? I thought you liked him?"

"I mean I do. He's kind and he understands me and he loves plants as much as I do, but-" You shrug, feeling Annie begin to apply eyeliner. "I don't want to make things complicated. I mean we work together, he’s my boss. What if it doesn’t work out? Then I’d have to quit and I like my job.”

“I mean that’s kind of hot-“

“Hot in what? A sexual harassment kind of way?”

“No. It’s not harassment if it’s two consenting adults.”

“I’m still not sure that it’s a good idea.” You mutter more to yourself. But this time your mind didn’t go to Jake and you having a relationship even though he was your boss, instead it goes right to Ben. You can't help but slip into the fantasy of dating Ben, of you and him trying something new-

You shake off the image. He doesn’t want a relationship, doesn’t think that’s important. The thought is almost like a mantra, trying to convince yourself to push past Ben’s charm and good looks, but this time it makes you consider something else. Maybe he doesn’t think it’s important now, but maybe he used to think it was before Countess.

You’d heard the stories, seen the newspaper articles and clips of film of Ben and her together, remembered what Hughie said that Ben had wanted a family with her that Ben had told her that he loved her. That meant at some point in Ben’s life he had loved someone else, cared for them, wanted to be more than just fuck buddies.

Maybe he's just afraid to fall again, because he's not sure someone else will be there to catch him. Maybe Ben doesn't want to admit that he cares for anyone else because he's afraid that they'll push him away or stab him in the back the way that Countess did. And maybe he hides it all underneath the macho attitude.

Ben is strong. He told me that he didn't need anyone else. You press your lips together in a tight line. But I think he does.

You hated that she’d hurt him. You hated that she’d pushed him away, told him she never loved him, and stabbed him in the back. You couldn’t imagine doing that to someone, telling them that you loved them, and manipulating them with the promise of love. It almost made you nauseous to consider it. It made you want to travel back in time to the moment she stabbed him in the back and shove a bouquet of sunflowers up where the sun don't shine.

You pause on the thought. You weren't a terribly violent person, but if someone ever hurt your friends your anger was legendary, practically divine. You'd never thought that you'd want to do something for Ben, but you were realizing more and more that Ben was becoming your friend. You weren't sure how you felt about that.

“Alright what if he wasn’t your boss.” Annie gently brushes eyeshadow over your eyelids. “Then would you go out with him?”

“But he is my boss.”

“Use your imagination.”

The song has ended and there’s an awkward pause between the end of it and the slow beginning of the next one.

“I mean yes?” You shrug. “I can see myself with him. He’s the kind of person I’d want to date. He cares about other people, he remembers what kind of coffee I like, he actually contributes to the conversation, he makes me laugh, he actually gets my jokes, he’s nice to sit with, he doesn’t get under my skin-“ As you list each of those things you couldn't stop your mind from comparing Jake to Ben. You didn't know when Ben became the level by which you judged other men, but it had happened sometime in the past few days and you didn't know what it meant.

But Ben did remember what kind of coffee I like and he does contribute to conversations, well, he contributes with a disgusting comment… The thought trails off when you remember the small conversations that you'd had with Ben that weren't sexual in nature, when the two of you watched the movie on the couch and talked briefly about your parents, when Ben asked you how your day was the other day back at the apartment, and when the two of you talked on the couch while the children slept between the two of you. In those moments you had seen another side of Ben, the side that he seemed to hide away from everyone else, but not from you, not all the time.

Plus Ben is kind of funny sometimes, disgusting but funny. Doesn’t understand my jokes. And yes he gets under my skin but sometimes it’s kind of exciting and nice to have that happen. With Jake sometimes he’s just too happy or too eager to agree with me.

"Hmm." Annie considers. "How did Ben react when Jake asked you out?”

You don’t answer immediately. “Normal.”

"You hesitated"

"No I didn’t."

"Yes you did! He reacted didn’t he?!” Annie pokes you with her finger

"No he didn’t.” You lie.

“He did! Holy shit he was jealous wasn’t he?”

"No he wasn’t.” You swat her hand away. "He was just opinioned."

He sure looked jealous. You think to yourself remembering the way he glared at Jake from the other side of the room. The memory of the way his eyes darkened when he told you exactly why he wasn't jealous and exactly what he would do to you to make you forget all about Jake sends an involuntary shiver down your spine.

"Yeah. Opinionated over why you shouldn't go out with Jake because Ben wants you all to himself." Annie crows.

"Shut-"

"But it doesn't matter. Because Ben's going to have a heart attack when he sees you wearing this." Annie steps back from you. "My work here is done. Try to make it to the mission without ripping each other's clothes off."

"We are not going to-"

Annie spins your chair back to the mirror and your next words dry up.

Your hair is perfectly curled back from your face, the lipstick is a dark shade of crimson that makes your lips look fuller and more plump, the eye make up is dark and dusky making the color of your eyes pop against the darkness in a mysterious alluring way that seems almost hypnotic, and your face is shaded and contoured so well that you look dangerous and sexy.

"I'll take the silence as a 'Thank you Annie! You're so beautiful and talented and you're the best friend I've ever had!'" She laughs, standing back behind you with her arms crossed over her chest.

"I mean all of that is true, but-" You stand up from the chair to get a better look. "You've really outdone yourself."

"Well thank you. Had to. It's your first date with Ben." She makes goo-goo eyes and you try to punch her in the shoulder, but she dodges it.

"Shut up. It's not." You look down at the dress that Butcher picked out for you to wear. "I love you, but I hate Butcher."

The dress was a red scrap of fabric that clung to your curves, but left very little to the imagination. It was completely backless with an exaggerated wrinkle that fell just over the top of your ass. The front was sinched at the back of your neck secured only by a small piece of fabric that you were afraid would break at any moment and fell open in a "v" that stopped just under the swell of your breasts. There was a large prominent slit that cut up the left side of the floor length gown that stopped just shy of the top of your thigh. Annie had cinched a black choker around your neck to match the black pair of stilettos you wore

Personally, you though that the stilettos were overkill, you had no idea how the hell you were going to run after the supe if you saw him, let alone fight him.

"You look so hot." Annie says pleased. "You really should wear that all the time babe. I'd take you out to dinner just to show you off."

"You're the worst." You groan.

"I love you too honey." She winks. "Now come on. Butcher and the others are waiting for us." She turns off the speaker and walks out the door of the bedroom, but you linger there, looking at yourself in the mirror one more time.

You'd never worn anything remotely like this before, but even you had to admit, you looked good.

“Come on Poppet. You can’t hide in there forever.” Butcher chuckles from the living room.

He’s having too much fun with this. You huff to yourself finally leaving the bedroom to make your grand entrance, grabbing the black bejeweled clutch as you do.

Butcher, Frenchie, Annie, and Hughie are waiting outside the door while Kimiko sits on the couch scribbling away.

Hughie's mouth drops open,  Butcher gives an approving shrug, and Frenchie lets out a breath.

"You look beautiful." Frenchie takes your hand and gives you an appreciative twirl.

"Shut up." Your cheeks redden.

Hughie is still looking speechless at you. "I told you." Annie states elbowing him with a proud smile.

“You look-“ Hughie stutters.

“Good enough to eat.” Ben finishes, appearing in the hallway to your right. His hand traces the curve of your hip, thumb ghosting over your bare back.

“Just because I’m dressed like a hooker, doesn’t mean my brain’s not working.”  You slap his hand away ignoring the warm feeling that remains where he touched you. You could feel your heart beat begin to pick up in your chest.

“Baby I love your brain-“ Ben smiles, eyes tracing your figure. “But I’ll be damned if I don’t love your body more.”

You felt your cheeks turn the same shade as your dress with his compliment before you can stop them. It was difficult to pretend that you didn't feel any attraction for him, not when he looked so good.

He had trimmed his beard and brushed back his dark hair, so you could see his emerald colored eyes gleaming. He was wearing a black suit with a white button up shirt, but chose not to wear a black tie, instead unbuttoning the top few buttons to give just a hint of his muscular chest beneath.

Why does he have to look so good all the damn time?

“Shut up.” You grumble turning back to Butcher. “So are you happy? I dressed up, my IQ dropped a billion points.”

“Ecstatic poppet.” Butcher grins taking a sip from the cup of tea in his hand. “Now remember anything happens, you detain the supe, no killing."

“He’s talking to you.” You elbow Ben.

Ben shrugs. “I won't apologize for doing my job."

You sigh again and walk towards where Kimiko is writing in one of her workbooks on the couch. 

"You look hot." She signs at you.

It had been difficult to learn the sign language she used, but you liked to think that you had a handle on it so you could understand simple conversations. When things got too confusing she would use her phone.

"I know. I was mad at Butcher at first for picking this dress, but I kind of like it." You sign back. "Don’t tell Butcher I said that."

She crosses her fingers over her heart. "Soldier Boy is looking at you."

"He’s always looking at me. I'm glad I can't read minds. I don’t want to know what he’s thinking."

Kimiko snorts, raising her hand to sign "I think the look on his face says it all."

You half turn and look at where Ben is again, he’s not talking to Butcher like you thought he was, he’s staring at you, pupils dilated, eyes darkening in a way that makes your heart feel like it's beating so hard it'll explode out of your ribcage.

No. No. Keep it together. Heart of a warrior.

"You two have fun!" Annie smirks widely, taking a picture of Ben and you like you're going to prom and you know she's going to send the photo to taunt you with it later.

“Shall we?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Ladies first.” Ben smirks.

 You roll your eyes at him as you walk to the front door of the apartment. “Don’t pretend to be a gentleman Gramps. We both know you just want to look at my ass.”

“I’ll never get tired of looking Doll, especially not when you’re wearing something like that.”

A/N: I know this chapter is a little bit of a filler, but I wanted to give Annie and the reader some time together, aka. Annie telling the reader to do the one thing that we ALL know she should do. 😂

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @corruptedcruiser @winchesterwild78 @the-super-who-locked-wizard

@criminalyetminimal @52ndstreeet @bitchykittenconnoisseur @anna6307 @libby99hb

@faephoria @possiblyafangirl @jqtaro @quietlybitchy @tinydancer40

@roger-that-cap @megara0224 @miskwaadesiwag @rainyeggvoidpurse

@soldiergrimes @tiffsbagels @podiumackles

@ifyouwerethemoon @ririshkin @peachhiz @fitxgrld @sukunassfinger

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@n-o-p-e-never @nesnejwritings @am0rem @tpwkcalli @momggn

@fitxgrld @whimsicalcherry

[circe69]

Could I please request 21.) zipping up a dress for you - "what, is the zipper stuck or something?" "no, 'm just looking." With Ghost? Like I can just imagine the tension if they weren’t together yet and they were still just in a ‘will they won’t they’ situation omg 😭💕 thank you!

absolutely anon! thanks for participating in my special :)

["what, is the zipper stuck or something?" "no, 'm just looking."]

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 #𝟐𝟏 - 𝐳𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 - ❤︎

This was the worst-case scenario that you could possibly think of. Tonight, the Task Force was holding a banquet as a means of celebrating their recent victory, rescuing Kate Laswell back from being kidnapped. They were holding an auction, all the proceeds were to fund communities around them, specifically to help with missing kids.

The dress you were wearing, or, supposed to wear, was a little less than comfortable. A slim-fitting maroon gown that's zipper was stuck on it's on teeth, and it wasn't even halfway up your back yet.

You sighed as you stared at your backside in the mirror, most of it being completely exposed, showing off some freckles and birthmarks you completely forgot you had, and also some rather ugly scars and scratches from years past.

Thinking about who you could call, everyone was in meetings or preparing for the event themselves, all except for one person.

Ghost.

You rolled your eyes at the thought. He was an amazing solider, the best of the best, obviously, but when it came to making friends or being nice at all, he didn't know what he was doing.

It is different, and you can see that. Making conversation and willingly being kind whilst doing so wasn't the same as aiming a pistol and shooting it, but surely, he had other traits that allowed the former?

You were about to find out.

Picking up your phone in your slightly sweaty and clammy hands, you realized how stressed you really were. You dialed his number, his contact's name not even attached to it because you never bothered.

"Hello?" A deep voice spoke from the other side of the phone.

You inhaled sharply, and he immediately recognized who it was.

"Oh great, it's you," he spoke, and you could tell his mouth was stretched into a sly smile.

"Yes, it's me, I need help."

You heard Ghost shuffle around quickly, maybe even a knife being thrown out of its pocket, "What's wrong?"

Walking over to unlock the front door to hopefully let him in later, you balanced your phone between your bare shoulder and cheek, "No, nothing- nothing's seriously wrong, my dress just won't zip up and everyone else is busy."

Silence. You and Ghost marinated in it for a few seconds, and you swear you heard his tongue click against his teeth, something he only did when he was excited.

You heard him stand from his chair over the phone, "So I was the last resort? That's kinda mean, don't ya think?"

He was having a ball with this, but you on the other hand, your back was chilly and both of you had to be somewhere in less than an hour, so you wanted this show to get on the road.

"Just hurry up and GET. IN. HERE." Your words became decreased to nothing but a whispered shout at the end of your sentence, signaling how serious you were.

"Sheesh, woman, I'll be right the-"

You hung up before he could finish his sentence, and did one last look in the mirror to make sure nothing too scandalous was showing. It wasn't even 5 minutes that passed when there was a knock on your door.

"Come in," you yelled from your place in the bedroom. You heard the door creak open, "I'm in my room."

The sound of loafers clicking on your floor filled the hallway and echoing off the walls, right into your ears. You paused for a moment, realizing if Ghost was attending this event, he'd be dressed up too. That was something you weren't prepared to see.

He walked in, one hand in his pocket and the other fixing his simple black mask. No skull, no dirt, no face paint, no blood splattered. It was somehow classy. Ghost wore a regular black tux, a black tie tucked into his blazer, and a pristine white shirt peeking out from underneath it all.

It was safe to say the both of you were impressed with each other's outfits. His eyes skimmed over you, stopping right when he got to your hips. The red dress hugged them perfectly, dropping down into a regular A-line below. The train dragged on the ground, a few sparkles gently appearing at the edge.

"Wow."

You smiled at his loss for words. "Wow yourself, you look great. Now please, zip this thing up." You turned around, your bare back now facing Ghost, and his breath faltered at the sight. He took a few steps towards you without saying anything.

He was so close, you could feel his breath on your neck, it was deep and heavy, the way he was breathing. Like he was nervous, or excited, or maybe both. His hands were hesitant, but you slightly flinched as his fingers softly traced the slope of your back, slowly moving up and down. It was so soft, you weren't sure if he was even touching you at times, but instead just basking in the heat you were radiating.

"Is it really stuck? I might just have to ditch it if it's not working," you said, not sure if you were talking to yourself or him anymore.

"No, I'm - 'm just looking."

Your jaw slightly unhinged at his blatant confession. Just looking?

Finally, his fingers dipped lower to reach the zipper, and you shivered at the feeling.

"Hm. You ticklish?" He said as he slowly pulled up the zipper, leaving a finger in front so he could trace the entirety of your spine one last time.

"No," you said breathily. He didn't need to know how dizzy his touch was making you.

"Not really in any hurry, are we now?" His voice was dangerously low, seductively teasing you, and you loved it.

You shivered once more when his fingers reached the top of your back, drawing a small circle with his pointer finger on your skin.

"You have a birthmark there."

Humming in response, you turned around to face him. "Yes."

"You had a few more, but I was scared if I touched them, you'd freak out."

He started to walk out, looking both ways out the dark hallway as if he was crossing a street.

"I wouldn't freak out." You blurted, making him stop in his tracks, "You don't have to worry about that."

He nodded and said over his shoulder, "Noted."

[katemoneymartinsgf]

Training Room - Kate Martin

Summary: Kate martin x Waterpolo player fic. Multiple part story this is just kind of getting everything going

Warning: Mention of injury

a/n: Please bare with me guys this is the first time i’ve written since my wattpad days 😔 . I know my obsession with kate martin is a problem if it’s thrown me back in to writing. Also if someone wants to help me make this page presentable pls do. Hope you enjoy

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Brrrrr...

The sound of the whistle rings through the air as the sprinters swim towards the ball dropped at mid-pool.

It was overtime in the Big 10 Women’s Water Polo Championship game. The next goal scored would win the conference and secure you a spot at state.

This would be the first time in school history that Iowa’s team has ever won a conference title. You had promised your coach that you would bring a championship to this team back when you were a freshman. Obviously, it was said as a joke considering you weren’t the greatest swimmer back then.

You went into your senior year of high school barely learning about the existence of the sport, looking to get extra conditioning in before basketball season that year. Also, just interested in learning a new sport in general. Your friend, who was on the swim team, encouraged you to join so you guys could spend more time together. She taught you how to swim and you caught on quick. Since it was a very young team, you earned yourself a starting spot, soon falling in love with the game. With some help from the coaches and putting together a highlight tape, you caught the eye of Iowa's head coach, who offered you a spot not too long after.

Iowa's polo team was very new and they wanted to build. You were perfect for the team: a fast learner who was passionate and competitive in everything you did.

You didn’t take it right away, hoping an offer for basketball would be coming soon, but to be honest, it was either water polo for Iowa or the JUCO route for basketball.

After thinking about how quickly you fell in love with the sport, you couldn’t turn the offer down.

A freshman who couldn’t tread water properly to four years later being in the last minutes of a conference title game.

Your friend, Jade, had possession of the ball and passed it back to the goalie. You swam to the top of the pool and got the ball passed into you.

You were immediately fouled and the whistle was blown for the defender to back away. You knew that if you got the ball stolen it was an easy 1-on-1 against your goalie.

This defender had been on your ass all game. She had gotten away with drowning and kicking you the entire time.

Your teammates were all being face-guarded so you had no choice but to get around her yourself. You took a mental note of the shot clock before turning her and swimming straight down the middle of the pool, dribbling towards the goal.

“YOU, YOU. YOU.” You heard your coach scream as you had a clear path to the goal.

The crowd erupted at the move as you got on your hips and motioned to pass the ball to your teammate, Keira. The defender jumped towards her and you faked the ball and turned to aim straight at the corner of the goal. As you rose out of the water to take the shot, you felt a hand tug on your shoulder, you felt and immediate tearing pain You yelped in pain as you dropped the ball and immediately went underwater.

You didn’t think about swimming up, gripping onto your shoulder in pain. You can’t remember much after that when the last things you felt was a player’s foot hit your head as you lost consciousness.

…..

“What happened to her?” a voice asked softly as you stirred awake.

“She got shaken up pretty badly at the polo game,” you recognized the voice of your athletic trainer as you looked to see who she was talking to.

“I think she’s awake,” the girl said.

“Go get her some more ice, please,” the trainer said before turning to you and immediately asking you how you are feeling.

“Try not to move too fast. How’s your head feeling?”

“Did we win?” you asked, wondering how the game ended.

“Y/N, that’s not important right now. How’s your…”

“My head is fine. Did we win?”

“No, the game’s still going on but you need to…” You moved immediately, ready to leave the room and head back to the pool deck.

She puts her arms in front to stop you and you look back at her in confusion. This was the championship game; how could you not be out there?

“You can’t leave. You really need to stay sitting down; you hit your head pretty hard. It’s not good for you to be up right now.”

“Please, I have to see the end of it. This could be my last game,” you pleaded.

“I can go out there and get you an update, but you need to stay here. Deal?”

You nodded with a little attitude behind it, closing your eyes and leaning your head back.

"Also, I was kicked; I didn’t just 'hit my head,'" you stated.

“Drop the attitude, kid. Kate’s bringing you ice. Safety first, always,” she said before walking out.

You relaxed a little, understanding that she was just trying to help. You’ve grown really close to Regina. She's 100% your favorite trainer and she’s learned how to manage your stubbornness.

“Here, this should help," Kate said, her voice soft but firm.

"Thanks," you replied, pressing the ice to your shoulder. You glanced up, meeting Kate's gaze.

It didn’t fully register with you that this was Kate Martin. If you were in any other state you would be freaking out.

Kate hesitated, then sat down on the chair next to you. "Do you need anything else?"

"No, this is good," you said, then added nervously, "What about you? Aren't you busy with practice?"

Kate shrugged. "Practice just ended. I was supposed to ice and heat, but I guess I got roped into being your ice delivery."

You laughed softly, wincing slightly from the pain. "Well, thanks for the delivery. I owe you one."

Kate smiled, a bit shyly. "It's no problem. I’m just glad to help."

An awkward silence settled between you. Both girls fidgeted, neither sure what to say next. Finally, you broke the silence. "So, you play basketball, right? I’ve seen you on the court. You're really good."

"Yeah, thanks. I’ve seen you play a little too. You’re amazing out there," Kate responded, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

"Really? Thanks," you said, your heart beating a little faster. It didn’t make any sense to you that she knew who you were. "This is my last season, so I’m trying to make it count."

"I understand. It's my senior year too," Kate said, her voice tinged with a mix of pride and nostalgia. "It's a lot of pressure."

"Yeah," you agreed, nodding slightly. "But it's also exciting, right? Knowing you’re giving it your all."

Kate looked at you, admiration in her eyes. "Absolutely. And it looks like you were doing just that before... well, you know.”

You chuckled, despite the pain. "Yeah, that defender really did a number on me. i can’t stand her”

Kate's expression softened. "I'm sorry that happened. I hope you’ll be okay for the next game."

"Me too," you said, trying to stay positive. "If there even is one."

As if on cue, the door opened, and Regina walked in. She glanced at both of you, then at you.

"I’ve got an update," she said.

"You’re not cleared to go back in. I’m sorry."

“No shit” you thought. You didn’t expect to go back in, obviously; you were knocked unconscious. It’s honestly a miracle you aren’t in the hospital right now.

"But," she said, her voice filled with excitement, "You won! You’re a Big Ten champ, kid!"

Your eyes widened in disbelief, a rush of joy flooding through you despite the pain. You turned to Kate, a radiant smile lighting up your face.

"We won?" you exclaimed, unable to contain your excitement.

Kate's own smile mirrored yours. "That's amazing! Congratulations, Y/N!"

The trainer nodded, her grin widening.

You and Kate shared a moment of shared jubilation, your eyes sparkling with pride and happiness.

Soon your team came flooding into the room with their Big Ten champ hats on.

You hadn’t noticed you were holding onto Kate’s hand until she pulled away.

“Congrats again, I’ll be at the next game for sure," she said before walking away. A small blush formed on your face as you watched her walk away with a smile.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Jade pulled you into a hug.

“CAREFUL, SHE'S FRAGILE RIGHT NOW,” Regina scolded.

———————————

a/n: again i’m new at this, literally my first time eve posting any fic on tumblr so any help is appreciated.

[blackhairedjjun]

it's you that i'd lie with. - c.yj

pairing: choi yeonjun x gn reader | genre / tropes: angst, apocalypse au (no literally), the end of the world but make it slice of life, non-idol au, best friends to lovers, last-minute getting together (and i really mean last minute!!) | word count: 923 | warnings: implied death, natural disasters, mentioned existential crises, kissing, brief food mentions

part of my 300 followers event (event masterlist)

prompt - LAST: believing it to be their last chance to confess their feelings for the receiver, the sender tells them that they love them. (requested by @beomnoullitheorem - "I don't mind any kind of ending as I love both happy and sad endings, so I'm leaving it all upto you and I'm gonna love any of your work be it having any kind of ending!")

author's notes: hi noulli! unfortunately i don't have a copy of the stuff we talked abt for this prompt since i answered your asks privately, but i tried to remember what we said as best as i can! also i was in a very "wow i wanna kiss him sooooo bad" mood when i wrote this so uh. yeah sldkfskldjf. also the title is from "as the world caves in" by matt maltese!

“do you really think the world will end today, y/n? like what the reporters said?”

you cast a glance up at the cloudless sky, its color a gradient of deep blue to pale yellow. meteor showers fall constantly like rain made of light. “well... if it isn’t ending, it’s putting on a hell of a show.”

yeonjun lets out a soft giggle and pulls you closer in his arms. you sigh happily and rest your head on his chest; his heartbeat is a bit faster than usual, though it is his last day on earth after all. you’ve always been touchy-feely with your best friend, but you’ve never been this close.

as soon as the news reports announced the end of the world a few weeks ago, the two of you instantly knew that you wanted to spend your last day here, at the open-air rooftop restaurant where you first met. you spent the next few weeks saying goodbye to your friends and family, checking a few things off your bucket list, and just... making peace with your life. today you and yeonjun claimed a table overlooking the deserted city below, though there wasn’t any competition anyway 一 the cooks and waitstaff had abandoned the place to spend their last day with their loved ones.

you lift your head up from yeonjun’s embrace to take in one last look at the sky, beautiful yet terrifying, a canvas of light and shadow. you wonder what everyone else is doing: maybe they too are looking at the sky, or maybe they can’t see it at all from the makeshift underground shelters they’ve gone to. maybe some are watching it alone, maybe others are watching it with a loved one, just like you.

just then you feel soft lips on the crown of your head, and you look up to see yeonjun pulling away from his brief kiss. he’s gazing at you with those warm brown eyes, and you can’t help the heat spreading across your cheeks.

“you’re quiet,” he says.

“so are you, jjunie.”

“it’s just... a lot.”

“i know.”

perhaps your brain is making you see things because this is the last time you’ll ever see him, but this is the most beautiful yeonjun has ever looked. strands of black hair fall over his eyes, and as you lift a hand to brush them aside you feel an ache in your heart.

“i was supposed to take you here again for your birthday, y’know,” he says with a small smile.

“really? you didn’t think i’d be sick of it here?”

“nah, you love it here. you’re always ordering their cheesecake.”

you laugh. “i mean, no one makes it like they d一”

just then the earth begins to shake and the whole building sways. yeonjun grabs onto you as you’re both thrown onto the ground. you bury your head in your friend’s chest and grip onto his hoodie; his own grip around your waist tightens and he curls around you. the table topples and nearly lands on your head, only for yeonjun to grab you and roll you away from the spot.

the ground beneath you rumbles, and you can hear the crashing of plates and bottles from the restaurant kitchen. tables and chairs are knocked over. you screw your eyes shut, yet the world doesn’t stop spinning...

and then an alarm starts blaring in the distance, and it’s over as soon as it started. you remain lying on the floor clinging to yeonjun, your knuckles trembling from your grip on his hoodie. he doesn’t move either, holding on to you so tightly as if you might slip away if he let go.

then you feel it again 一 that feather-light kiss on the crown of your head, lingering for longer this time. then another one, further down on your forehead. yeonjun pulls away to look at you, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes, and the ache in your heart gnaws at you even more.

“y/n, i...”

words leave him and the next thing you know, his lips are on yours. he tastes as sweet as you’ve imagined, and you wrap your arms around him to kiss him deeper. the world is spinning again, but for a completely different reason 一 with your body flush against his and his mouth moving roughly against yours, you feel as if every piece of you has been set alight.

you let out a sigh against his lips as he breaks away. he pants slightly, still holding you close, his eyes wide. 

“i love you.”

yeonjun is still breathless when he says it. had he said it on any other day, your mind would be full of questions: how long? since when? why are you telling me only now? what happens to us next?

but you don’t have time for questions. instead you lean towards him, meeting those beautiful eyes of his, and whisper, “i love you too.”

you leave a gentle peck on his lips, then another, then it’s his turn to kiss you back. next thing you know his hands are tangled in your hair and you melt into him completely, this new kiss slower than the first yet more desperate. in your last moments you’re going to love him the way you should have when you still had time.

neither of you notice the way the sky darkens to a complete black. the ground shakes again and you hold on to each other.

his warmth is the last thing you ever feel.

[gotham-daydreams]

Chapter 3 'Sneak Peak'/Teaser 2

This is more of a teaser above all else, and the only real 'sneak peak' part of it is just a small scene that happens in the chapter, but from a different POV. Regardless, I hop you enjoy this little look, and just like the last teaser- this is all a glimpse that won't really be shown in the final chapter when I post both parts. Though more emphasis on the "you won't really see this outside of this teaser" part.

Nevertheless, enjoy :]

-----

The moment you went into the diner, he took a moment longer to watch you walk inside before quickly realizing his phone was blowing up. So, reluctantly, he turned his intercom back on, and was swiftly met with a tidal wave of voices - most of which were shouting at him. Even if he couldn't blame them too much, that didn't make the experience any less annoying or loud. So, so loud.

He tried to explain himself and calm them down like he usually did, and it did kind of work - even if a few jabs and venomous words were thrown his way in the process. Again, he couldn't really blame them, but that didn't make things better. Not really, anyway. Their words hurt, sure, but hey, on the bright side - he was still with you. No matter what they said could change that, with a little bonus being that, deep down, you were the reason why all of them kept away too, and haven't interrupted your little get-together — since there was an untold but very present fear that he himself still felt when it came to you, and that being the possibility that you hated them. That anything they did now, would only worsen whatever image you already have of them, and if it was bad already - well, they’d have to work extra hard to repair things, wouldn't they?

It's not the potential work ahead that frightened them per say – more so the thought that they had pushed you so far away that you couldn't help but despise them. That you'd refuse to come back home and have them back into your life – refuse their effort and how they were now trying, even if it may have been a month or so too late – that you'd put an end to whatever they were hoping to have now, and refuse them at every turn simply out of spite and anger. Even if it made sense, and you have all the right to be mad, the thought and possibility didn't hurt any less. They didn't want you to hate them – no matter how reasonable that reaction would be – and most of all, they don't want to know that they've hurt you to such a point. He didn't, anyway, but he didn't want a lot of things when it came to you.

It's not that he didn't want to hear you out or be made aware of his faults - for crying out loud, he basically missed out on your entire life! Of course he's bound to have hurt you, and you're bound to be mad about it, he knew that even if he still didn't like the idea. If anything, a part of him did want to know so he knew where he had to really shine. So he knew what he really needed to get done and work on when it came to you, but that wasn't the point.

He never wanted to hurt you, never. None of them really did, but he especially – in his mind – didn't mean to. So, in a way, he was almost afraid to have to face that outcome.

It wasn't the anger he was afraid of, but the pain coupled with it, since he didn't know how bad it was - none of them did. Each of them only saw pieces, some more than others, and even if he stood here knowing that, he dreaded seeing the full weight of it.

There was more, he could feel it, and he hated that more than anything. He hated not knowing, but also feared what he'd find – even if there wasn’t much he could do about that. Despite himself and the feelings he and the rest of the family seemed to share, he knew that whatever they got – they deserved it. He already knew that this wouldn't exactly go smoothly, and despite it only being a few minutes – he could already feel it. The rockiness, the edge that seemed to hang in the air whenever you spoke, the unease you felt, and the nervousness coming from you was beyond evident.

Even if there was clearly a long way to go, he still couldn't help but… hope. Sure, it was wishful thinking, and honestly not very realistic, but he couldn't help himself. As much as it hurt looking at you, it made him soft, and untangled the most messy parts of himself. He couldn't explain why even if he tried, especially because he was only beginning to feel this now, but all he knew was that it felt… good, and made him regret not trying harder sooner.

He had a lot of regrets since he saw those things in your room and learned what he did, but as time passed and the night continued on, he found those regrets growing and becoming bigger. Though this wasn’t about him – of course it wasn’t, why would it be? – it was about you, they all knew that despite themselves, and all they wanted to do to make up for lost time.

Speaking of, the shouts never truly stopped. Sure, some died down and tried to get some information out of him, and even if he did say a few things here and there to give the impression that he was paying attention, most of what he learned he sort of… kept to himself. He just couldn’t help it. There was something so… special, so good that came with knowing more about you than the others. That came with being able to pick up on these little, small things about yourself that the others didn’t have the luxury of knowing just yet.

Maybe they’d learn eventually if things go smoothly, he knew that much, but at the moment he was more than willing to take in this rare moment and opportunity. The fleetingness of it only making it more enticing, and worthy of taking.

Yet, when one of them mentions you again, and asks how you’re doing – he can’t help but look back at you through the glass of the diner, but what he sees isn’t what he expects and he pauses.

You both hold your stares for a moment, and he ends up being the first to break it as he looks away, unable to take the sight any longer. He didn’t like that look in your eyes, the look you gave him – the look of untold worries and concerns that he knew dealt with him or were about him in some way. Granted, he couldn’t read your mind, but for a moment he wished he could. For that moment, he wishes he could take even the smallest peak into your thoughts just so that he knew what made you give him such a look. So that he knew what he could do to take away that conflict in your eyes and ease whatever worries you had – so that he could try to make things better.

He doesn’t know what he did wrong, but suddenly, just from that alone, he finds himself growing antsy. Even as he talks to the others over the comm link, he finds himself becoming subconscious of everything he’s done up until this point, trying to figure out what he did to make you wear such an expression. Even if it was just a little thing, he can’t help but worry over it, especially considering what he’s here to do. The voices of the family fall into the background with automatic, lame responses leaving him as he falls deeper and deeper into his own thoughts. He’s usually so confident and sure, but with you he’s a mess and is suddenly worrying over all of the little things he didn’t think of before. Did he act too soon? Should he have tried to be more patient? Sure he was worried at the time, but if this was the consequence of those actions then they weren’t worth it at all. God, he knew he should’ve been more-

Then, suddenly, you step out of the diner, and all is right with the world. His head empties, and without even thinking about it, he turns his comm link off once again.

It’s just as he thought earlier. You made him soft, and undid even the worst parts of himself.

With you, it’s like nothing else mattered, and that the past was far behind him.

Yet, he failed to realize that it was only that. A feeling and nothing more.

[cottonlemonade]

heyy. New to your blog and I think your writing is just so cute!! If you're still taking requests I'd really like a strawberry with slice of cucumbers for Tobio. If not then please feel free to ignore!

How You Met

word count: 1288 || avg. reading time: 6 mins.

pairing: post-time skip Kageyama x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: spoilers, the tiniest pinch of suggestiveness

request: fluffy-spicy, forced proximity, pining Kageyama

Tobio rushed out of the locker room.

Wakatoshi didn‘t even bother anymore to ask him if he wanted to stay after practice to work on perfecting their attacks. For over two weeks the setter had always left at 7.32 p.m. on the dot, hurrying to catch his train.

Wakatoshi applauded his seeming dedication to work-life-balance while Hoshiumi just looked up at his fellow spiker with an annoyed crease in his brow, “That‘s great and all, but who is gonna set for us now?“

Truth be told, Tobio could have taken any train home. It was all the same to him. There was nothing in his apartment that needed his urgent attention and having Ushijima-san ask him for more spike sets sounded like a great night but somehow volleyball had recently taken a backseat for the most peculiar reason.

His strides lengthened as he ran to the train station, his breath steadily forming little clouds in front of him.

Arriving at the platform, his eyes tried to find you in the myriad of commuters for those precious few minutes in his day. Every morning and every evening for the last couple of weeks you had taken the same train as him. You had caught his attention when you couldn‘t hold back a cheer in the crowded train as your eyes were glued to your phone. When he had glanced at the screen he saw a live stream of a volleyball match of a rivaling team. At first he wanted to move closer to watch along but then he actually noticed you - apologizing profusely to the people around you who had thrown you dirty looks upon your outburst. You had tucked your phone into the pocket of your blazer. Your hair was put up to a somewhat tidy bun, a few strands loose from what appeared to have been a long day. A lanyard around your neck held an employee ID. All together with the pencil skirt made him certain you were some kind of office worker. He had seen you knead the strap of your bag and chew your bottom lip, looking impatient at every stop the train made until yours came and you practically jumped outside to bring out your phone again. You seemed to have checked the score and did a little dance when the doors of the train closed and Tobio was left with the rapidly disappearing image of you excitedly greeting a friend at your platform before the train picked up speed again.

So he just kind of started keeping an eye out for you.

You got on in the morning, calm and composed, maybe looking over a file in your hand or tapping around on your phone sifting through emails, while in the afternoon a much more relaxed version boarded the train, rolling your shoulders and stretching your neck.

And it didn‘t take long for him to drift off whenever he saw you, imagining where you worked, wondering if you had a boyfriend, if you would consider getting rid of the boyfriend if one existed, which volleyball team you supported, if you had played yourself, what your favorite volleyball position was and so on.

The first time you had spotted THE Kageyama Tobio on your train your heart had stopped and your brain almost gone into fangirl-overdrive. Not only were his gaming stats absolutely insane but then he also had to go and look like that! A couple of times you had let yourself live in a little daydream where you were absolutely sure he was throwing shy glances in your direction and you had checked your hair in the reflection of the train window before scolding yourself for such an absurd thought. Chances were slim to none that he would notice some chubby intern, blending in almost too well with the rest of the business crowd.

But that didn‘t stop you from looking forward to your commutes more than ever. How lucky was it that his training always ended perfectly with your workday! It was about time something good came your way.

Today however, you were late and were already worried you would miss out on your evening fix of his striking features. The commuter-packed train was still in view when you gathered every last ounce of strength and sprinted towards the closing doors. You made it just in time, feeling sweaty but accomplished - and were now face to face with Kageyama Tobio.

His last two functioning brain cells started screaming in panic because you were so very close. Great, you were even prettier than he had originally assessed. He remembered that Hoshiumi told him on a few occasions already not to stare at people but… how could he not?

The commuters behind him pushed when the train shook a little over an uneven part in the rails and he stretched out his arm to catch himself. His hand was pressed against the window of the door a couple of inches next to your ear. (Oh, was this one of those Kabedon-things Hoshiumi had talked about a while ago?) There was about one regulation-conform volleyball’s size space between you and him now. His eyes almost automatically darted to your lips and his breathing became shallow. When he managed to bring his gaze back up, your eyes met and he was sure that this was what a heart attack felt like. His cheeks were burning.

How could someone‘s eyes be this blue, you wondered. He was so close, the smell of his aftershave made you dizzy - in a good way. More than anything you would have just loved to ask for his autograph or talk to him. You also would happily invite this man for a coffee … and then bang him like a church door on Sunday. Gosh, he really was so pretty. Okay, pure thoughts.

With another jolt the train soon came to a stop and a new mass of people piled in, sardining everyone all the more and ensuring that Kageyama moved in even further. His profile must have lied, you decided. He must be taller than 1.88m the way he towered over you. The large hand that was still right next to you with those long fingers made you speculate how he would- Pure thoughts, pure thoughts, you reprimanded yourself. But it wasn‘t easy - his body radiated this incredible heat, no doubt a remnant from the certainly rigorous training he just had. Your face was all but pressed to his chest now and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on a report you had to write for your boss. He smelled like fresh laundry, oh no. God, please don’t ever let this train ride end.

You didn’t hear the melodic voice overhead announcing your stop and so when the door opened behind you, you lost your balance, seemingly stumbling backward in slow motion. And a hand shot out. A muscular arm wrapped securely around your waist and you just knew you had died and gone to heaven when you looked into the startlingly beautiful eyes of the Kageyama Tobio. The grumbling and annoyed mutters of the people having to swerve around you two didn’t even register because he was still holding you, in a sort of dip like you would see on the cover of a romance book.

“Thank you.”, you said breathlessly, amazed by how strong he must be to hold you so casually.

You waited for his response. Your heart pounding in your chest, imagining 10034 different ways he could react right now from swooning one liners to scandalous remarks that would leave you blushing and melting in his touch.

His mouth opened. This was it. Oh, Kageyama-sama…

“… Do… you… like volleyball?”

a/n: thank you for your sweet words! I really hope you had as much fun reading this as I had writing it. This was such a passion project cause I have been dying to write a “close proximity pining” for a more stoic character this whole time!! I wanted this to feel like a silly romantic comedy anime.

Special thanks to @makkir0ll for unraveling my ramblings and helping me keep my thoughts coherent ✨

[winterrsun]

Comfort

Reader x Daryl Dixon

Warnings: Smut, 18+ only

A/n: This is smut but it’s like the fluffiest sappiest smut, it’s meant to be really emotionally gratifying. Also I’ve really kinda half heartedly set it up for a part 2 where they reunite with the group and Rick…let me know if you think I should continue this!

Summary: after the prison fell, you and Daryl start to mourn what you’ve lost and find comfort in each other, both emotional and physical.

————————————————————————

The last couple of weeks had been such a blur. After the prison fell, you were thrown back into survival mode and all sense of security was gone. You never knew where your next meal would come from, or whether you were minutes away from death. You were grateful you’d gotten out in the company of Daryl and Beth; you’d always gotten along with both of them and Daryl was one of the most experienced survivalists. It was nice having Beth to talk to and relate to the experience as well, neither of you being natural outdoorsmen. Even if he was a grumpy ass most of the time, and she was still a bit of a bratty teenager at heart, you’d fast grown extremely reliant on both of them being around you.

You’d all found a small shack to hole up in for a couple of nights, you’d also found a stash of moonshine in the cupboard. Beth had been insistent on trying her first drink. It made you both amused and sad when you compared her experience to your teenage party years, so while Daryl disapproved you thought it was only fair to have your own little party. That’s how the three of you ended up on the living room floor, laughing your heads off.

“Really Y/N, you never been camping?!” Beth questioned incredulously.

“Yer even more a princess than I thought” scoffed Daryl.

“Yeah yeah,” you laughed, “well I suppose my whole life’s a big camping trip now.”

“Alright alright, my turn!” Daryl exclaimed. “I never… bin to a wedding”.

“You what?! Daryl that’s just sad” you said before taking a large swig of the homemade booze.

“Yeah, even I’ve been to a couple. Only other time I drank any liquor, daddy let me have a glass of champagne” said Beth.

“What part of my life was a fucking shit show before all this do you two not get” he grumbled.

You rubbed his arm, “alright we know, just teasing you” you smiled.

Beth’s giggles turned to hiccups, and she eventually lay her head down on the sofa and you realised she’d gone to sleep.

You nudged Daryl and nodded at Beth. He smiled at you, and pointed to the singular bedroom in the shack- suggesting you and he should move into the other room so as not to wake her.

The room was small; a double bed took up almost all the floor space, so you plopped yourself down on it. Daryl followed, carrying the bottle of moonshine with him. He took a sip before passing it to you, who did the same.

“She’ll be right” he gestured to the door, referring to Beth in the other room.

“I know” you replied, “we’ve all been there, she just needs to sleep it off.”

He nodded and you fell into an easy silence, both taking additional sips now and then. You grew pensive, and some of the thoughts you’d been mulling around for days started to come to the surface. The tipsy haze in your brain had your lips moving before you even knew you wanted to share what was on your mind.

“I don’t think I’ve said it,” you said, looking to Daryl, “but I’m so grateful for the two of you. The amount of times I’ve wondered what kind of state I’d be in if I was on my own…”

“Can’t be thinkin like that” he replied gently.

“I know. It’s just, it makes me mad to think about how quickly our circumstances changed. Things were so good Dar, they were finally all coming together. And then…..it’s just nothing in this world can ever really work can it?” You were rambling a little, but Daryl didn’t look like he was going to challenge you or tell you to be quiet. He just looked at you sadly.

“Do you think we’ll ever see any of them again?” You whispered to him. A tear escaped your eye and started to trickle down your cheek.

“I don’t know” he replied, and to your surprise he reached towards your face and softly wiped the tear of your cheek, “but I’m glad we’re here together too”.

He didn’t remove his hand from your face, in fact he gently cupped your chin. You leaned into it, while his head dipped closer to you and he planted a soft kiss on your lips. You closed your eyes and allowed the sweet sensation to wash over you.

When he pulled back away he looked unsure of himself, and mumbled a “sorry” to you.

You shook your head, placed your hands on his chest and leaned back toward him, kissing him more deeply this time. His tongue crept into your mouth and started to dance with yours.

Your hands drew up behind his neck as the two of you continued, and he reached for your waist, pulling you into his lap. The kiss grew needier as you straddled him; it wasn’t a need driven by pure sex and physical desire. It was like all the emotions you’d been feeling since the prison poured into your movements, and Daryl lapped them up and returned them with his own. You could’ve been hugging, or crying in each others arms, but instead you were kissing and writhing against each others bodies and it had the same cathartic effect.

You clung onto him as he pulled his lips away from yours briefly, to gently and slowly peel your dirty shirt up from your body. You allowed him to manoeuvre your arms overhead so he could take it off and toss it aside. He then reached around and unclasped your bra, and took a moment to stare at and admire the sight before him.

“You’re beautiful” he almost whispered, starting to run his hands over your breasts and grope them lightly. “I’m gonna take care of you Y/N, I promise”.

You were almost overwhelmed at this moment of pure bliss. You’d never thought there’d be anything sexual between you and Daryl. He was one of your best friends, with a bond like family. Sure he was hot. You’d notice his biceps peaking out of that winged vest and your heart might’ve quickened slightly every time you saw the way he gripped his motorbike handles. But you’d always just been friends.

Let alone the fact that you actually had a thing with his best friend. You and Rick had never defined whatever it was between you, but there was denying when he snuck into your cell nearly every night who you belonged to.

But Rick was gone. You didn’t know where, or if he was even alive, or if you’d ever see him again. It played on your mind every single day. You missed him so much more than all the others, longed for him. You were sick of it eating at you, and you just wanted to feel good for the first time in weeks.

You clawed at Daryl’s shirt, and he took a break from massaging your breasts to help you remove the black tee from his body. You pressed into him as your lips found his again and you relished the feeling of his skin against yours. It felt warm and unbelievably comforting. He began to rub circles on the small of your back and you arched into his touch.

“Daryl” you breathed against his mouth.

“What do you need baby?” He asked, pulling back and grabbing your face in both of his hands, eyes searching yours.

“You…I just need you” you said pleadingly.

Daryl shifted beneath you and lifted you up to flip you onto your back on the bed.

He slowly pulled your pants down and hovered over your torso, looking at your cotton panties. He dipped down and placed a soft kiss on your abdomen, creeping along your hip line. You hummed and wriggled at the tickling sensation, enjoying it. You felt a warmth envelop you from his touches. Then his fingers hooked into the elastic around your waist and pulled the fabric down from your body.

He ran his hand back up your leg, his eyes following the movements before he flitted them up to your face. You made eye contact and he sought the non verbal confirmation that you were okay. You bit your lip in anticipation as you gazed up at him, allowing yourself to be completely vulnerable under his touch. Now fully naked on the bed.

You gasped as his fingers found their way into your fold, and began to gently stroke around. You flinched slightly as he ran over your clit for the first time, and he placed a kiss back on your lips, then trailing down your neck. He began drawing circles around your sensitive nub at a steady but not too fast pace and he lifted his head back up to study your face again.

“So beautiful” he commented. You arched your back off the bed and moan softly. He picked up the pace a little and your pleasure increased.

“Daryl” you gasped, “I need more. I want all of you”.

He nodded, stroked your hair with his free hand before withdrawing them both to unbutton and remove his pants. You lowered your eyes and watched as he freed his sizeable cock from his underpants. You sat up and leaned forward, glancing up at him with doe eyes before attaching your lips to his member.

He groaned as you took him in your warm, wet mouth. You suckled and licked around it, playing with him while lubing him up for you. His hands found their way into your hair, loosely gripping it while you bobbed your head back and forth. He threw his head back and savoured the sensation.

After a little while you pulled away and he gently pushed your shoulder so you lay back on the bed. He braced himself over you and lined himself up, gazing down into your eyes.

“I’m so glad you’re here” he whispered, hovering outside your entrance. You nudged your head up to plant a kiss on his lips.

“Me too” you said softly.

Then he slowly thrust into you. It ached just a little on the way in, but you quickly adjusted to him. For the first time in weeks you felt whole, and human, and like you were capable of something other than simply just surviving as he sank inside you.

You tensed around him and wrapped your legs around his body, which he took as a signal to start pumping his hips in and out of you. Warmth filled your body, radiating from your core to chest at the feeling of connection and intimacy. To your surprise, tears prickled your eyes as you felt emotionally stimulated as much as physically. You squeezed your eyes shut and bit onto Daryl’s shoulder, allowing his warm skin to absorb the moan that left you.

“Don’t need to keep too quiet pretty girl” he said encouragingly. You smirked and let go, noting the love bite you’d left behind before moaning out into the room this time as his hips continued to pound into you.

He pulled out briefly and you were left feeling empty and disappointed, just for him to gently grab your thigh and push your leg back towards your face, hooked behind his arm. He pushed back in and you relished the new, deeper angle.

“Fuuuck, yesss” you hissed and he smirked down at you.

“Feels good baby?” He cooed before grind his hips in a particularly deep thrust and you nodded, moaning in reply.

He picked up the pace now and you felt the heat grow in your belly, driven more by lust at this point. Your climax was building, and it was as if Daryl could tell. He drove into you faster than before, angling his hips upwards to hit just the right spot.

“Dar! I’m gonna” you began-

“I know baby, let go” he soothed.

With an almost scream you came, it rippled through you in waves and he rode it out with you. In this moment nothing else mattered, not the situation you were in, the home you’d lost, the people you’d been seperated from. It was just bliss for a perfect moment.

As your pleasure subsided Daryl snapped his hips into a few more hard times before grunting himself and moving to pull out of you.

“Don’t!” You cried without thinking, holding his hips to yours with your small hands. You felt his dick pulsate inside you as he painted your walls with his cum. It was the last, comforting gesture you wanted to take from him tonight. The feeling of him filling you up as much he possibly could.

His sweaty forehead met yours as he stopped moving, and you felt his penis jerk inside you one last time before all was still. You panted together for a few seconds, before he slowly rolled over to lay next to you.

You felt his ejaculate trickle out of you onto the bed, and groaned at the mess, grinning at him.

He looked around and grabbed a throw blanket from the end of the bed, using it to roughly wipe up you and the linen beneath you. You both chuckled, and he tossed it aside before throwing an arm around you and pulling you towards him to lay your head on his chest.

With your head on his bare skin and listening to the sound of his heart beat and the sensation of his breath rise and fall, you closed your eyes and fell asleep. He planted once last kiss to the top of your head before doing the same.

You woke with a start to the sound of birds chirping and sunlight beginning to creep in through the window, neck stiff from the angle you slept at. You felt chilly and looked down to see goosebumps over your bare body. Not just yours, you noted the extra limbs tangled with yours and remembered the situation you were in. You smiled to yourself, knowing that the amazing night was a once off for you both.

Daryl had just started to stir at your movements on the bed, before you heard movements in the other room. A female voice groaning, before stomping quick footsteps and the sound of coughing and liquid splashing the metal sink. Beth had arisen, and was experiencing her first hangover. You almost would have giggled, except you realised you had to get dressed quick and decide how to explain the two of spending the night in a small room with one double bed.

You looked back at Daryl, now fully awake and judging by the expression on his face thinking the same thing you were.

“Well, back to reality” you whispered with a shrug.

He pulled you in for one last embrace, planting a kiss firmly to your lips before whispering back “thanks for last night beautiful”.

[anystalker707]

Love bites

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x [gender neutral] Reader Kinktober prompt: Biting Tags: Clingy Sanji / He's very vocal / Cums untouched

KINKTOBER LIST MASTERLIST

          Sometimes, Sanji was clingy, just like that. He’d spend every second of his free time with his arms wrapped around you, his face pressed to your neck if possible. It was a little impressive for how long he stood there doing that, but you just got used to it after some point.

You could tell Sanji had been holding himself back from doing it lately. It was easy after you caught on a little pattern that happened over a couple of times when you went to check up on him in the kitchen, as usual. He sat across from you while the food heated up on the stove, elbow on the counter and cheek against his palm, his free hand in yours. His fingers just played lightly with your own, and he made a little talk. He kept the touches and talk at a minimum; it was hard to stop after starting, but he couldn’t go through long hours without at least having you around.

Of course, there was time to be together after he left the kitchen clean for the night, but it only meant spending the night together since he always woke up very early.

When Nami alerted you about the next island finally showing up on the horizon, you could see Sanji’s eyes shine a little. He made sure to leave a detailed list for the others regarding what he was going to need from the island, making sure to hand it to Nami. You also saw him fight with Zoro for a couple of minutes over who’d be the one staying back to watch the ship. There was some dedication.

“(Y/n), my dear!” Sanji called as soon as the others left, hands clasped together as he twirled over with heart-eyes. His arms wrapped around your neck once he got close enough, and he stood there with that silly smile. Impossible to resist. You kissed his cheek, hugging him in return and giving his cheek a kiss. A soft red tone took over his cheeks. “Another?”

You hummed softly in response, giving his other cheek a kiss, which made him melt a little more into your arms. His lips parted open, but he never really had the opportunity to say anything; you kissed him gently, making his breath hitch in his throat before Sanji could actually start kissing you in return.

Despite how agonizing it had been to spend the past days with limited touches from Sanji during the day, you were kind of grateful for it—kissing and holding him now felt much better. His lips against yours felt inexplicably nice and comforting.

The little make-out session lasted for a few minutes, but not because you grew tired of it or anything. Sitting under the shade of one of the trees on the deck seemed a lot better, even more so with the lovely weather on the island. It wasn’t as awfully hot as it’d been for the past days in the open sea.

Whatever Sanji muttered fell incoherent. He let you sit with your back against the wall, half lying down, and he was practically thrown across you as he pressed his face to your shoulder.

Okay. You smiled a little bit, running your fingers through his hair gently, gently massaging his scalp with the tip of your fingers with the hand that wasn’t holding him; it was something that made him quickly melt. He hummed softly but didn’t do a lot. He loved receiving affection just as much as he loved giving it.

Sanji’s hair fell back with the position, and you pulled his shirt’s collar down a bit, exposing his neck more. It made his skin rise in shivers. Tempting.

It was possible to hear Sanji’s breath stop in his throat the moment your lips met the side of his neck. He even tensed up a little, though he didn’t do anything to stop you, just sitting there and enjoying the soft kisses pressed along the side of his neck. One of the hands he had around you clenched onto your clothes when you went a little lower, below his ear. You knew his sweet spot was around that area, and finding it wasn’t hard; you pressed your lips to different spots on the skin until you found his pulse, and he even squirmed a little with the number of kisses pressed there.

“Sanji,” you whispered quietly into his ear, your lips grazing over it lightly. “Can I leave a mark? It’s been a while.”

The quiet sound Sanji made was muffled against your shoulder, but you could still catch onto the needy tone it carried. “Yeah,” he mumbled, moving his head a little so that you could hear him clearly.

You hummed softly, nose running along the skin until you were pressing kisses to his neck again. There were kisses to his sweet spot again, this time mixed with a little of tongue, and Sanji’s grip on your clothes became tighter. It felt like he was holding his breath, stiff and unmoving for a solid minute, and you could confirm it with the harsh exhalation followed by a deep inhale at the moment your lips closed around the skin. Your teeth nipped on his neck gently at first, but then you started sucking and teething more on it, sometimes pausing to lick and kiss the skin to give it a break.

Sanji’s breath was a little out of pace by the time you were finished, a soft groan escaping his lips once he noticed you were finally done.

Whatever Sanji had to say turned into a broken sound once your lips attached to his skin again. The other mark had been quite low, under his collar, but he deserved one that was actually visible, right? One that showed he belonged to you.

Despite not being as sensitive as the other spot, having your teeth tugging on the skin a little below his ear made Sanji gasp again. He inhaled shakily, adjusting his position a little to present his neck better to you, but it made you slip a little.

“Shit,” you whispered, clicking your tongue. “Sanji.” You sighed, patting Sanji’s shoulder lightly. His visible eye was a little hazy when he looked at you, peeking through messy strands of hair.

“Did I do something wrong?” He pouted a little.

“No, no! Let me just—” You patted his shoulder again, and he sat up properly, letting you sit up as well. Your back stung a little, but that wasn’t the priority at the moment. Now that you noticed it, your breathing was also a little out of pace, so you needed a moment before pointing a thumb back. “Cabin?”

          Sanji’s tongue peeked between his lips, wetting them as he leaned his head back against the pillow and watched you move closer, his hands immediately holding your waist before you even settled yourself down, straddling his lips.

“(Y/n),” he mumbled, eyeing your lips, before you pulled him a little closer by his tie and kissed him again. A sigh escaped his lips with a tone of relief, and the mood that you two had created earlier slowly came back. His hands rubbed up and down your waist in such a nice motion, almost soothingly if it weren’t for the urgency of the moment.

You opted to give Sanji multiple pecks instead of a single long kiss, sometimes nibbling on his lips just to snatch a little whimper from him, while your hands worked on undoing the buttons of his blazer, then his tie, and lastly his shirt. The shirt and blazer were pulled down enough to expose one of his pale shoulders, and his skin was already rising in shivers once again as you planted kisses down his jaw, neck, and just then his shoulder.

Sanji found it difficult to lie still. His grip tightened to pull you closer as you nibbled on the skin. It became red easily, the gentle touches making his breath hitch in his throat, sending sparkles down his spine and having him crave more, but he wouldn’t plead.

Finally, though, you gave him a love bite on his neck; it made Sanji gasp, arching his back a little.

“(Y/n),” Sanji gasped, momentarily relaxing once you started pressing kisses over the bite mark.

You smiled proudly at the bite mark, seeing the shape of your teeth on the skin. Sanji looked at you, seeming like he wanted to say something, but your attention was somewhere else already.

In general, Sanji was a sensitive person, but it took a little more effort to actually explore it. For example, the way Sanji’s chest could actually be very sensitive. The first times you touched him, you presumed it was just a normal reaction coming from him, but the more you lingered there, the more you noticed how squirmy it could make him.

As your mouth met Sanji’s peck, his breath already hitched in his throat, coming out as a moan once you started nibbling on the skin. Sanji’s hands moved, one wrapping around the bedsheets and the other around your shoulder, pulling you closer at the same time he arched his back. The way your teeth sank into the skin around his nipple had whimpers spilling from his lips, even more so when you started sucking on it, making the pink bud even brighter.

Just the feeling of your tongue running flat against his nipple was enough to make him throw his head back against the pillow, pushing his hips up against yours, but he knew better than to disturb you. Soon, there were soothing kisses over his chest, just for them to be suddenly replaced by a harsh bite around his nipple that made Sanji let out a fucking loud moan. His hand wrapped tightly around your shoulder as he squirmed, but he didn’t hate the pain. It sent a nice feeling down to his lower stomach. His pants felt so fucking tight by now, and he could feel himself leaking already.

Once you let go, Sanji took a deep breath, whimpering a little as he tried to come back to reality. The area where you’d bitten throbbed, and his cock also throbbed between his legs.

“Fuck,” he breathed, covering his eyes with the back of his hand. He’d fucking missed that.

The mattress sank under your knees as you shifted on the bed until your lips were over Sanji’s abdomen this time. The kisses you placed there were just soft distractions while your hands worked on unbuttoning his pants, taking your time to do it to give Sanji a little break. He was already a mess. He deserved it.

When you started undressing him once again, though, you only removed his pants. Sanji was a little disappointed, but he didn’t mind how you were taking longer. You could take all the time you wanted, after all this time he spent holding himself back, as far as he was concerned.

Your eyes lingered on the wet stain on Sanji’s boxers, pondering your options, but you decided to just leave it be, at least for now.

Sanji’s heartbeat picked up a little when you started lowering the waistband of his boxers. It didn’t go that far, though, just low enough so that you could nibble on his hip. The area was also sensitive, not surprisingly; Sanji had to struggle to keep his legs still and not close his thighs around you while you did that. Just the little nibbles were enough to have his toes curling while his knuckles went white around the bedsheets, in a way you needed to actually hold his thighs when biting down on his hip.

Incoherent sounds came from Sanji, some of them resembling his name and others just in a pleading tone. It even gave you a little more motivation to leave a bite mark on his waist as well. Sanji’s breathing faltered in a way that resembled a sob, cock visibly twitching through his boxers.

Honestly, your patience was running thinner a little faster now. You went ahead to biting on Sanji’s thigh without kissing or nibbling on the skin first, leaving behind marks of love bites that Sanji loved so much. The best was saved for last, of course—the inner side of Sanji’s thighs was one of his favorite spots to be touched, always making him feel so fucking good.

Sanji really couldn’t help it—the way you also started sucking hickeys into the inside of his thighs, nipping on the thin skin, biting and teasing it… He was too lost to notice that you’d already paused, now only watching him breathe heavily, staring at the ceiling with hazy eyes as he tried to come down to reality.

Did he really come untouched again? You raised your eyebrows a little, hooking your finger around the waistband of his boxers to pull it down just enough to show the sticky mess his cock was in.

“Already?” You clicked your tongue, but Sanji could notice a hint of a smile on your face. “Yeah, we can do better than that.”

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

[leviathansshadycorner]

Be Realistic ( Leon x reader)

Short blurb because I'm in a mood - Yes based off of that Britney broski audio lmao Warnings: low self esteem reader, body issues ALSO I LOVE ASHLEY GUYS SO DW DW SHES MY BBG SHE JUST SEEMED APPROPRIATE TO USE IN THIS SCENARIO LMAO

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Rebecca and you sat at the edge of the backyard, both of you sprawled out on the lawn chairs. Claire had thrown a summer pool party, deciding it'd be a smart idea to invite people from work. Ada and Claire were chatting among themselves, sipping away at their colorful drinks, Luis urging everyone to put on sunscreen, and Carlos, Jill, and Chris having a competition to see who could do the best cannonball. Among the partygoers was Ashley Graham, the owner of the house in which Claire was throwing the party.

"She's so gorgeous," Rebecca comments, her sunglasses protecting her brown doe eyes.

"I know." You added, the two of you ogling at Ashley's beauty. She wore a cute brown-colored two-piece, with a metal ring in the front that held the top together, which accentuated her complexion and made her appear like a Victoria's Secret model.

"Hey guys, have any of you seen Leon?" Ashley called out, holding the deflated pink dolphin in her hands.

His name made your stomach twist, and you swear you could've felt your heart pang. The way his name rolled off her tongue was so natural, almost melodic.

"Right here." Leon came out from behind the glass sliding doors. He was the only one still in his normal clothes, deciding he was too cool or some shit for the pool party.

The man walked his way along the perimeter of the pool to Ashley. His muscles showing as he carried the air pump to the girl.

"Dumbass, why did you bring it all the way out here?" Chris commented.

"Easy access." Came Leon's response.

"Thanks, Leon!" Ashley beamed, her pouty pink lips curling into a smile that even made your heart flutter. Leon stood close to her, handing his hand out for her to give him the floaty. She complied, and handed it over, their exchange making your eyes lose their gleam.

"My hero." Ashley was excited, her floaty finally being of use.

Rebecca noticed you from the corner of her eyes. She knew about your little huge crush on Leon. The girl watched as your face crept with sadness- dare she say- disappointment.

"Kind of funny how he's still in his normal clothes." She tries to distract you. "Typical Leon."

You looked at her and smiled, "I know. I was hoping to see him shirtless." The two of you giggled, letting out cackles, Ada and Claire looking your way to see what the commotion was about.

"Why don't you go ask him to take it off?" She teased, turning her body to look at you.

"Hmm, maybe." You said boldly, even though you knew you'd rather fall in the pool and drown than do that.

"Bet. You won't." She smirked, challenging you.

"Pftt I totally would." You played yourself up.

"Then go." Rebecca eyes you.

After being riled up by Rebecca, a burst of confidence shot threw you. It couldn't be that hard right? You and Leon bantered and flirted on missions before, so what difference would this make? Plus it was totally appropriate for you to tell him off about his weird pool attire or rather lack of it.

"Watch me Chambers." You told your best friend as you got up from the lawn chair. You were wearing a (top of your choice) that you brought a size too small to make your figure pop. The shorts that you wore were Rebbeca's basketball shorts that she had let you borrow last minute after you changed your mind about wearing a one-piece.

Feeling confident in your tight outfit you began to strut toward Leon and Ashley, the sun's beams hitting the floor making the cement beneath your feet warm. As you approached you caught a glimpse of yourself in the glass sliding doors. Immediately your confidence shrank.

How could you have been so delusional to wear this out? It looked nothing like the way you pictured it in your head. Your model like posture returned to that of a hunchback as you shamefully scurried past Leon and Ashley, walking along the whole edge of the pool, stopping by the coolers to grab two waters, and heading back to a frowning Rebecca.

Leon and Ashley to focused on judging Chris and Carlos' Cannonballs to notice you.

"What happened?" She ask as she noticed the shift in your demeanor.

"Nothing." You sighed handing her a water.

"(Y/n) we already have water." She pushes her sunglasses up to her head as she stares at you. You take a seat on the same lawn chair.

You whined. "Why didn't you tell me I looked like shit?" It was only loud enough for her to hear.

"What you don't though.." She reassures you as she places a hand on your back. "(Y/n) you look hot!"

You didn't believe it. Surely she was only saying this because as your best friend she was obligated to. Your mind flashed back to the image of you in the glass doors. Your hair was flat yet awfully frizzy at the same time, you stood like a toddler who barely knew how to walk, and your legs looked like they were overflowing in Rebecca's tiny shorts. To make things worse you were sure the chlorine from your previous dip had made your skin look all dry.

You looked around for the oversized shirt you came here in. When you found it you shielded your body from the eyes of the partygoers.

"(Y/n).." Rebecca looked concerned.

"I don't know why I even tried talking to him. I probably look like an idiot." You leaned on Rebecca's shoulder as you two blankly watched the Beefy Brazillian splash into the pool.

"Because you like him. And I'm pretty sure he likes you too." She giggled.

"No- he likes Ashley." You said defeated, your emotions coming out now that you'd made yourself vulnerable. You saw the way those two looked at each other. They had something you wish you had with Leon.

"I don't think so." She wraps her arm around your waist. Smirking when she notices Leon glance over at you two.

"I think I'm just gonna accept my Leon-less life." You said leaning into your friend for comfort. Your eyes occasionally glancing over at an out of place Leon as he shouts at Chris.

"What? You're just not gonna try?"

You sighed. "There's really no point Becca."

She scoffed, "(Y/n)- you're totally out of his league. You can get him if you wanted to."

"Becca!" You groaned, your inner teen always came out when hanging out with her. "I can't. Have you seen the way she looks? She can get him!" You laughed, deciding to find the humor in your failed attempts at love.

"Oh (Y/n) you can too!" Her short hair bounced as she shaked you.

You turned around your hand practically digging into 's shoulder as you stared at her dead in the eye. "Be realistic. Be so fucking for real." You shook her back, your voice that of a goblins.

The two of you laughed as you spewed out nonsensical noises.

The conversation then shifted to celebrity crushes, "You think I have a chance with Josh Hutcherson?" Rebecca lays down on the lawn chair.

"Hundred percent yes." You replied, "What about me and Nick cage?"

"I see that." Rebecca smirks.

"Wait. What about me and Da-" Before you could finish your sentence Leon's shadow loomed over you, causing both you and Rebecca to jump.

"What about you and who?" He asked as he took a seat on the lawn chair you were previously on.

Your heart fell to your ass. "Oh my god you scared me." You and Rebecca giggled.

"You're not going in the pool?" Leon asked, leaning back in the chair.

"You know we were about to ask you the same thing. What's up with the clothes Kennedy?" Rebecca raised an eyebrow, she then nudged your shoulder.

"Yeah, lose the shirt, Leon." You said on cue. A fire growing in your stomach.

"I will if you do." He hooked his hands under his grey shirt as he began to pull it off.

Scratch that. The fire in your stomach was now a full-on Volcano.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Captain John Price x Female Reader Dark Romance

Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical violence, canon-typical swearing, brief suggestive themes, brief blood, rescue and escape

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Part Seven of Dangerous Pursuit (for @glitterypirateduck)

Price makes himself comfortable at lunch. Accusations are thrown. Revenge comes knocking.

Chapter Six // Chapter Eight

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // dangerous pursuit masterlist

Three years.

It seems like forever ago, and yet it only feels like yesterday when Ghost hauled you into his arms and Price became a distant face. Three years since the blood-drenched terror of not knowing whether you’d make it out of Thirst alive. Three years. Three years, and you firmly believed everything that happened is behind you, left to rot and wither in the recesses of your mind until you don’t remember it at all.

Three years.

Three goddamn years.

It was autumn then, like it is now, like it was when Alex first asked you out on a date and you accepted without your fight or flight response kicking in. Autumn, when the trees surrender their leaves to the ground and air, when the wind becomes a chilly companion, and the dredges of sharp heat melt away to cooler temperatures.

Autumn then. Autumn now.

And three years.

So much has changed, and yet you feel no different. You are back at the safehouse. You are back at Thirst. You are staring at the face of a man who is both familiar and strange. You are trapped and free and unsure of what moves to make. You are questioning everything and angry at the world for even thinking that it’s a fine idea to place this man in front of you again.

Ghost brought you to Laswell and Laswell was kind. Brief and upfront, but kind. There was a period of stasis, of not knowing what was going to happen to you. For almost a month, you were locked away from the world before salvation came.

And then you were off, moved across the country against your will with the only reasoning being “your safety.” First name the same. Last name different. With it came security, a fresh start, and deep down you know it only happened because Price must have had a hand in it. He made it happen so that your new life provided everything you could possibly want. Opportunities didn’t just appear, they were made before you even arrived, and you needed for nothing.

But it’s been three years. Life went on without a singular moment of contact from him. Now, Price is here, sitting across from you where Alex was just seated minutes ago. It is insulting but also so normal, like it should be him sitting in that seat and no one else.

Everything that happened, everything that occurred, is in the past. Haunting you still but so far removed at this point you rarely glance back at it. At least, it dwelled within a realm where you could extract yourself from the events. Taking them up, you wrapped them together in a bundle, and stored it away for therapy sessions and dark nights when sleep is an elusive friend.

This restaurant is your usual go-to spot with Alex. It’s a safe place. A sanctuary where the two of you can have some alone time. It’s shattered now. Fractured. The past is back. The past is here, and it is staring you in the face.

“Hello, love. It’s been a while.”

Your lungs are popped ballons, the rapidly escaping air slightly loud and unwelcomed. All the words—all the possible sentences—you could say go out with the air, leaving you with a singular name.

“John,” you breathe, the menu falling from the hands to land softly on the table.

Your lips begin forming the semblance of words again, your brain seeking a greater response than just his name. It is like sliding down a rocky incline but everything you grab onto slips from your hands or breaks your nails and fingers, pushing you further and further down into a rapidly sharp decline.

Just as your brain and tongue catch up to each other, Ivan approaches the table. His bland demeanor gives way to furrowed concern.

“Madam,” he addresses, turning fully in your direction, ignoring Price entirely. One of his thick eyebrows rises slightly. “Will the gentleman be joining us?” It’s clear on Ivan’s face that he doesn’t want to ask you that question, but he is retaining his professional appearance even as you sense the disdain for Price and the concern for you.

You glance at John for an answer. He gives the faintest nod. It’s not that Price is saying that he intends to stay, but to give you the choice. Can he stay? Do you even want him to? But you are curious, and even though it has been three goddamn years, your heart still flutters, and your stomach twists with anxious excitement.

“Yes, Ivan. He’s joining me for lunch,” you finally answer, glancing back at Ivan and giving him your best reassuring smile. It’s mostly for your benefit, because frowning or screaming or crying seems wholly inappropriate.

Ivan inclines his head and finally turns to address Price. “The lady is having wine. Will you be partaking?”

You want to curl into a ball under the table. Ivan’s tone has a hint of disbelief in it, like Price won’t take him up on the offer and order something mundane or beneath this fine establishment. At Thirst, Price ordered cigars and whiskey, and while smoking isn’t allowed in the restaurant, they do have plenty of whiskey selections to choose from.

“I will,” replies Price, sitting back in his chair, adjusting his jacket. Ivan’s lips tighten but it’s the only sign of emotion before the man promptly disappears.

Reality sudden comes crashing down around you. Your tongue and brain are one again, and it wants to slice, to sting Price with venom. To draw blood and make him regret not contacting you.

Sitting forward, you lean your elbows on the top of the table. “What are you doing here?”

While you intend to harm, your voice comes out too seething, a hissed sort of whisper that you immediately regret. Yet this whole thing is insane. You haven’t spoken to Price in three years, and now, here he appears like a rabbit from a magician’s hat. He is sitting in Alex’s seat, and he’s so fucking calm it’s nearly maddening.

“I’m here to talk to you,” he replies cooly.

You’re about to reply, to tell Price that you know that, because that’s really fucking obvious. But Ivan is back, pouring Price his glass of wine and then offering him the menu. Price thanks him politely and Ivan disappears again.

“About what?” you sigh, exasperated. Yes, you’re annoyed, but you’re also worried. With a three-year absence, this cannot mean anything good. It means that Price might not even really be here for you. That possibility hurts somewhere deep.

Price glances down at the menu and frowns. “Fucking prices are atrocious,” he murmurs.

“John,” you prompt.

When he glances up from the menu, he smiles softly. His gaze is slightly heated, admiring you openly and clearly. Anyone watching can see that for what it is. For you, it startles, throws you right back to the safehouse, and to that little room at Thirst. It recalls every touch and kiss, and how good Price felt when he was inside you.

“Why are you here?” you manage to choke out, cheeks flaming with embarrassment.

“Your boyfriend,” replies Price dryly, smile dropping.

“Alex?” Your voice breaks slightly, and you clear your throat. “What about him?”

Price’s head tips slightly, and you can’t tell if he’s mocking you or is genuinely surprised you have to ask. “Is that what you call him?”

“Does that matter to you?” you snap.

Where is this line of questioning going? What does Alex have to do with Price? Why is he here? Clearly, it’s really not for you at all.

“Alexandr Obolensky matters to me.”

“Why?” you ask sharply.

Ivan returns and Price shakes his head subtly. “Are we ready to order?” Ivan is looking at you. It’s more of a “do you need help?” look. A “blink twice and I’ll call Alex” glance.

“You know my usual, Ivan,” you smile softly, trying to put on a show of calm.

Price holds his menu out, and without look at Ivan says, “Steak. Rare.”

Ivan remains passive but you can tell he’s incredibly annoyed. He takes Price’s menu and then yours, disappearing like a ghost.

“Most expensive item?” you chastise.

Price shrugs. “Your boyfriend’s paying.”

“For me,” you correct but this doesn’t appear to faze Price in the slightest. Sighing, you place your hands in your lap, fingers clasped in agitation. “You want to talk about Alex.”

“Don’t want to ask me how I’ve been?” asks Price, trying the wine. His eyebrows rise slightly with surprise before he sets the glass down.

“It’s been three years, John. I didn’t think you’d care.”

His gaze darts up from the wine glass, and all your irritation and resentment slides off your body and to the floor. “I care.” He shifts in his chair. “How are you?”

How are you? As if you could even form a proper response. You are angry, annoyed, delighted, frustrated, confused, anxious, nervous, hopeful, and so many other fucking things it feels like you’re about to explode.

How are you? Ready to faint. Ready to scream. Ready to cry.

How are you?

How are you?

“I’m fine, Captain. Thanks for asking.”

“No,” replies Price, shaking his head. “You’re not.”

“How—”

“You didn’t expect me. You’re not fine.”

Ivan returns again and you want to tell him to stop bothering the two of you. To leave and not return until you and Price have had it out. But you also understand why Ivan keeps appearing. While he’s providing service, he’s also keeping tabs on you. This will get back to Alex. It’s likely Alex already knows.

Bread is brought out. They make it in house and when that delicious yeasty scent reaches your nose, your stomach growls. There are three types of butter. One is a standard salted butter. The second and third—as Ivan points out—are a chili, ginger, and garlic blend while the final option is burnt shallot. Bread and butter service is your favorite part of the entire affair.

And yet, even as your stomach growls, your chest is hot and stiff.

As you reach out to serve yourself, Price is already taking charge, loading the small plate with warm slices of bread and offering you the butter options first.

What is this? Why is he here? What the fuck is he doing?

“I’m sorry I never contacted you,” says Price, his voice dropping slightly to a low murmur. “Laswell said I couldn’t. And I tend to follow orders.” He shrugs. “Not all the time, but in this case, Laswell made a good case not to.”

“And yet you’re here anyway,” you reply, trying to remain calm. “Why? You just want to talk to me about Alex?”

“Alexandr Obolensky is the friend of my enemy. And I need information.”

No. No no no no no.

Fucking no.

You are not going back to this. You are not falling into this trap. Whatever is going on, whatever is happening, you want nothing to do with it.

“I don’t have anything to say, John.”

“What does he do for a living?” asks Price, completely ignoring the fact that you just rejected him.

“I’m sure you already know the answer to that,” you reply dryly, lathering up one of your pieces of bread with the burnt shallot butter. It’s heavenly in your mouth, and for a brief second, you forget how frustrated you are and just enjoy the food.

“But do you know?” Price does the same, chewing slowly on a piece, his attention fixated on you. It’s a bit unnerving how intense he is right now.

“He works for his father’s consulting firm.”

“And?”

“And what?” you shrug, shoving more bread into your mouth so you don’t have to keep talking.

Price leans back in his chair, relaxing entirely. It reminds you of when you walked into the VIP room at Thirst and saw him there, oozing danger and sex.

“Do you know what the client list looks like? Do you know the people that your boyfriend consults?”

“Can you not say it like that?”

“Like what?” shrugs Price.

You lean forward in your chair. “You have no right to be upset about the fact that I have moved on.”

Price doesn’t seem the least bit angry. He smiles, and you want to scream—or slap the grin right off his face.

He pops another piece of bread into his mouth, chewing slowly. You watch him swallow, and then your mind drifts, remembering the way he ran his thumb across his bottom lip after tasting the space between your legs.

“You haven’t moved on,” he says slowly, as if reading your thoughts. “Now, about Alexandr. What does he do?”

“I don’t really ask and Alex doesn’t say much.” Your bread is rapidly depleting and there is nothing left in the bread basket.

“That not suspicious to you?”

“No,” you say, a little too hesitantly.

Price smirks behind the wine glass as he takes a sip. “Are they watching us?”

“Who?”

“The wait staff.”

As discreetly as you can, you take a quick glance around the room. They are watching, but doing so in a way that might look like they’re working.

“I’m sure this will get back to Alex. Happy?”

“Good,” replies Price. “I want him to know I was here.”

“Why are you doing this? You haven’t spoken to me or reached out in the last three years. Why are talking to me now?” You wave you hand dismissively. “And don’t say it’s because of Alex.”

“It’s him.”

“Oh, of cour—”

“The man you’re dating is protecting my enemy,” interjects Price. “I want him to know I’m on to him. And I also want to warn you.”

Warn you? Warn you?

“About what?”

Price lowers his voice. “You think Petrov didn’t figure it out? He did. And he told someone and they told someone else.” His nostrils flare as he inhales deeply. “Revenge is a slow game sometimes. You cost someone weapons and money. That’s not forgotten easily.”

The bread and butter in your belly threaten to upend themselves.

Revenge is a slow game sometimes.

The names and faces from before come flashing fast and blinding. Dimitri’s cold stare. Nikola’s blank malevolence. Damien’s unhinged, gnashing teeth as he screamed at everyone to stop talking.

“Why would you say that?” you whisper, nearly inaudible. “Alex—”

“Alex doesn’t love you. He’s helping someone else get rid of their loose ends. And you’re someone’s loose end.”

Ivan appears with the food. You don’t even look at it. You’re too focused on Price. When he disappears again, you stare down it. It’s your favorite thing and yet it’s so unappealing you want to cry.

Glancing up, you turn your heart to steel. “I don’t believe you.”

How can you believe Price? Alex has been nothing but kind, patient, and sincere. He’s never shown any signs of wanting to harm you let along kill you. Alex’s actions don’t match Price’s words, and it is cruel of him to even suggest such a thing.

“I’m not the only one after him,” continues Price. “There are others poking around. Police mostly, but they have no idea they’re poking a monster that will eat them alive. His father’s client list is long. Celebrities. Finance gurus. Cartel. Arms dealers.”

“Stop.”

Price cuts into his steak, scoops up some perfectly fluffy potato. “Alex and his father help people hide things. Laundered money. Ballistic missiles. That’s the consulting.” Price shrugs. “But Alex doesn’t talk about his job. Of course you wouldn’t know.”

“And you think I have information?”

Price swallows another bite of food. “This steak is excellent. Understand the ridiculous price.”

“I want you to leave.”

Price’s gaze flicks to your face and his expression is unreadable. “Maybe Alex does like you. Maybe he’s been kind. Loving.” He sits up slightly and sets his knife and fork down. “But Alex’s duty is to his family and to his country. And you don’t fit, love. He will have to strike you down, and if he doesn’t, someone else will.”

This is a nightmare. A twisted horror only Poe could pull off.

Is everything a lie? You have no reason to completely dismiss Price’s accusation. Truly, Price has only ever been honest with you. At least, in the past. His motivations are unclear here. Maybe he does wish to protect you. Maybe he desires to warn you.

But from Alex? No.

All of it is mangled. Like a wounded animal trapped in barbed wire. You are clinging but it is painful.

“Enjoy your meal, John,” you say softly, almost defeated in your delivery.

You glance away, find Ivan. He is standing nearby near a server station. Maybe it’s the stricken look on your face, or perhaps it’s the eye contact, because Ivan is over in an instant.

“Would you like me to box this up?” he asks, reading your mind.

“Yes,” you nearly choke out. “Please.”

Ivan removes the plate from your sight and promptly disappears. Price looks sad but not surprised. When Ivan returns, he places the to-go back to the right of you at the edge of the table.

“Concerning the bill,” begins Ivan, his gaze starting to pivot from you to Price.

“It’s on me,” replies Price instantly, reaching into the inside of his jacket. Removing his wallet, he removes cash, a solid, thick stack of it, handing it off to Ivan. “Should cover everything plus tip.”

Ivan hesitates before taking it, glancing at you for confirmation. You’re too shocked to respond, and Ivan takes that as acceptance. The cash disappears and Ivan inclines his head before making himself scarce.

“You didn’t—”

“He doesn’t deserve you,” says Price.

He meaning Alex.

The words sit like rocks in your stomach. This is agony. A blade slowly sliding across skin.

“Goodbye, John,” you murmur, standing up from your chair on wobbly legs.

You don’t wait for his farewell. You turn away and march straight to the front door, not looking back, knowing that you might go back to him if you do.

When you make it out of the restaurant, a black SUV with tinted windows idles at the curb. Eric, one of Alex’s bodyguards stands next to the vehicle, hands clasped in front of him. As your gaze locks with his, Eric turns and opens the back passenger door of the sedan.

“Mr. Obolensky asked us to see you home.”

“Thank you, Eric,” you reply, sliding into the back.

Someone from the restaurant must have contacted Alex and told him that you were having lunch with an unexpected guest. A small swirl of anxiety mixes with the heaviness, but you also know yourself. If you’re proactive about this, you and Alex won’t have a disagreement or even an argument about this. There is no reason for you to hide anything.

Alex’s other bodyguard, Rick, is in the driver seat. Rick and Eric are always together. They’re a pair. Alex has an entire team of personal security, which has always seemed odd to you. But someone like him who deals with high-profile clients needs protection.

Right?

Or is it because of what Price said? Does Alex work with and for people who make it a lifelong ambition to harm others? Is that who you’re dating?

Eric opens the front passenger door and hops inside, his massive frame shaking the SUV slightly as he does so. Once the door is shut, Rick is pulling the car into traffic. Twitching nervously, you decide to take control of the situation.

Fishing out your phone, you type out a text to Alex.

A man stopped by after you left. Starting asking me questions about you. I didn’t say anything but he said things that upset me. Can we talk? Call me.

The text is a half-truth and a half-lie. You know Price. You’ve had sex with Price. But Alex doesn’t need to know all those details. You can step around it, push how uncomfortable you were, mention what Price said, and leave it at that. Move it all into Alex’s corner.

Rick and Eric deliver you to your apartment as promised. Eric even escorts you, not leaving until you’re inside and locked the door behind you. That only unnerves your further. Makes you question everything.

Maybe Price is right. Maybe you’re dating a monster.

In the kitchen, you empty the bag and almost cry. Ivan packaged your food, but he also added a massive slice of their house chocolate cake and more of their bread and flavored butters. It’s like he knew, and you’re eternally grateful.

The next few hours, you pace, eventually finding the stomach to consume your food minus the cake. Belly full, you lounge on the couch, promptly falling asleep. Not realizing you have, it’s a pounding at the door that wakes you.

Slowly, you sit up, watching the front door. Waiting.

The pounding comes again, and this time you go on silent feet. Through the peephole, you see two officers loitering the hall. Price said there were lots of people looking into Alex and the police were just one group.

But you don’t answer. You watch until they give up and leave. In moments you’re checking your phone, finding no texts or calls from Alex.

“Fuck,” you murmur.

Typing out another message, you tell him the police came knocking. You ask him what the fuck is going on and that he needs to call you immediately.

Sighing, you take your phone to the kitchen, plugging it in. A shower is what you need. A hot, steamy shower that you simply stand under and enjoy.

The shower does ease the tension in your muscles but it doesn’t remove the rocks in your belly or the heat in your chest. It all stays. Lingers like garlic on your fingers after you’ve cut it and washed your hands.

After shower, you try the chocolate cake. With fork in hand, you head back to the bedroom, and come to a complete stop in front of the doorway.

The light is off.

Funny. It was just on when you left to grab the cake. You know it was on because you intended to come right back and lay in bed. Eat chocolate cake and watch trashy reality television. Caution keeps you alert. Holding the cake in one hand, you reach into the dark with the other, seeking out the light switch on the wall.

Finding it, you flip it.

Nothing.

You flip it again. Still nothing.

You try a few more times, and still, nothing.

Backing away, you retreat down the hall and into your living room. The darkness of the bedroom doorway lengthens, becomes ominous. This is not a horror movie. There are no creatures waiting in the dark, hungry and vicious and cruel.

Clutching the sides of the plate with both hands, you take a calming breath. But there is no returning quietness. You sense eyes on you. You sense a hunter.

You glance to the left and immediately freeze, coldness creeping in.

A shadow of a man looms on the other side of your couch. He stands between it and the coffee table. He is hulking. Huge. Wearing all black. The balaclava he wears covers everything but his eyes and mouth.

The sharp click of a lock engaging snaps your attention to the right. At your front door is another hulking shadow. Nearly identical to the first.

The only point of escape is the front door. But it’s blocked. Your balcony won’t help you. Your apartment is far too high to survive a jump. Fighting is all you have. Fighting and surviving and evading.

That is all you have.

Slowly, you pivot the metal fork, working it within your hand until you wield it like a weapon. The masked men crouch slightly, each of them poised for the moment everything snaps, for everything to slow and then suddenly quicken.

You need to draw the one near the door out. He needs to move enough for you to try and get into the hall. From there, you go stairs, not elevator. And you run.

But you are not trained for this sort of thing.

Whatever confidence that suddenly blooms within your chest diminishes instantly the moment the two men begin to move. Instead of running, your limbs freeze, betraying you completely. It is a slap in the face. A gut-punch to the stomach.

When your body does catch up—when it realizes danger is right there in front of it—that is when it finally fucking moves. But you propel yourself forward, running toward the bedroom, intending to barricade behind the door.

The masked man in the living room leaps over the sofa and you bolt. He dives, and you step out of his path, bringing the plate down on his face. It shatters, and the gorgeous cake you were so eager to enjoy squishes over the eye holes of the balaclava.

His companion is unharmed and persistent. Snagging your hair, he yanks you back, but you still have one tool.

Slashing out, the tips of the fork slice at him. He flinches, perhaps believing it’s something much worse, but quickly recovers, bashing against the walls of the hallway as he tries to get to you.

The darkness of the bedroom is right there. It is so close.

And then it all flattens. Becomes a pit. An endless abyss of intruders.

Another shadow appears.

Another large man stepping out from the dark.

Your feet slide against the carpet. Tipping. You’re tipping. Falling. The floor coming up fast.

Going down hard, all the air is punched from your lungs. The fork goes flying.

This is it. This is the end.

Your reach for the silverware just as the second intruder grabs hold of your arms, twisting them back sharply.

You cry out, and then warm liquid sprays over your face.

Hands go limp. Go loose. Fall away.

There is red on the wall. Red on the floor. Red pooling beneath your bent elbows.

The man holding you tips back, and his companion, the one in the living room is suddenly backtracking, pulling his weapon.

Too late. Too late too late too late.

There is a muffled pop followed by another.

His body jerks. Goes down. Crumples.

Time hangs. Your ears are ringing and everything is funneling into a narrow tunnel. But there are hands. Warm ones. Rough ones. Ones that slide around your body and pull you from the floor.

With all your weight, you throw yourself against them, fists clenched. Teeth bared.

But you find eyes that you know. A face you recognize.

“John.”

He smiles sadly, one hand brushing your hair out of your face. His gaze roams, seeking and searching, looking for wounds.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, voice raspy.

You shake your head. “No.”

He releases a shaky sigh, then pulls you closer. Price’s gaze moves to a spot above your head and down the hall. You follow it and immediately press yourself closer into his chest, fingers digging into the front of his zipped jacket.

“Stay here,” he murmurs, slowly untangling himself.

On instinct, you reach for him, whimpering with the lose his protection. Price kneels next to the first body. He yanks off the man’s balaclava. Frowning, Price grabs the back of the man’s black jacket, hauling him up enough for you to see his face.

“Know him?”

Eric’s limp stare greets you. Turning abruptly, you gag, nearly unleash your stomach contents onto the carpeted floor. Distantly, you hear Price’s voice, but you hardly care. Sweat runs down the back of your neck and your limbs are seizing up.

“Stay with me.” Price’s hands return to you, bringing you back into his arms. “Look at me.”

There is wetness on your cheeks, but you don’t know if what you feel are tears or Eric’s blood.

“You came,” you whisper.

“Always. I’ll always come for you.”

His thumbs rub the wetness from your cheeks and you’re not brave enough to check Price’s hand for red. Leaving you on the floor, Price returns to Eric, digging around in the man’s pockets. Finding his phone, Price holds it up and lifts Eric up again.

He watches the screen and then nods, dropping Eric to stare at the now open phone’s screen. Tapping away at it, Price returns to your place on the floor, kneeling next to you. He hesitates, gaze flicking from the screen to your face to the screen again.

“Show me,” you beg, voice hoarse.

“Sure, love?”

All you do is nod, because doing more might be too much.

Price turns the screen around to face you.

It’s Eric’s messages. The one currently opened and staring back at you is from Alexi.

Finish the order. Return when done.

Your gaze draws upward, locks on Price.

“We should go,” he says, but your limbs are noodles. You’re not getting up from this floor on your own.

As if knowing this, Price wraps his arms around your waist, and you slide yours around his neck. He lifts you effortlessly, taking you into the bathroom, turning on the shower and depositing you inside. It doesn’t matter that some of the water hits Price. He helps you out of your clothes anyway.

He stays in the bathroom until you’re standing without your knees shaking. Only then does he leave, returning with a change of clothes from your closet. Price is tender and careful in the way he helps you.

There is nothing sexual about it. It’s just trust and a genuine need to take care of you that drives him. You see it in every action and glance. His gaze does not linger on the intimate parts of you. His only concern is your health and safety.

Alex would never.

Fingers intertwined, Price guides you out into the hall and past Eric’s limp corpse. You don’t look down, and you don’t dare glance at the second body, choosing to stare at Price’s back as he escorts you to the front door.

His hand in on the lock. Then the handle. Then it’s opening, the outside light pouring in.

You don’t look back.

You don’t dare.

Ahead is Price, and that is all you cling to.

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[toulousewayne]

Batfam Shenanigans Headcannons: Pt 6

When the League first took shape it was understood they should anyone need assistance in their own personal cities that someone would respond. By this point Superman and Batman had teamed up the most so it was understood that Batman Could work with others in Gotham he just prefer to bleed out first.

The first time the league met Robin it was kinda surprising. Batman entered the Watchtower and the League noticed the traffic signal dressed boy behind him.

“Spooky, whatcha got there?” Hal raised a brow.

“A dark Roast.” He drank his coffee.

“He meant the boy Bats.” Barry clarifies.

“I’m Robin.”

“….”

“…..”

“…..”

“Can you play games with your ring Mr. Lantern?” He beamed.

“We can keep him.” Hal replied.

The first time Green Arrow and Black Canary visited the cave they were met the a excited Robin who was happy that Batman let someone visit. Batman didn’t share the excitement.

During a mission Wonder Woman, Flash, and Hawkgirl visit the cave and come across the little gremlin that is Robin.

“Hello child, where is Bruce?” Diana beamed at the child. Dick munching on a cookie points behind him to Bruce hunched over at the Batcomputer. The group walk to him and he’s covered in bandages.

“You look like crap.” Diana pokes his side.

“I fought Bane and was thrown off the rooftop. But thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Is there more cookies?” Flash asks.

A few years later when Batgirl joins Bruce, she’s immediately taken in by Dinah.

“Right hook.”

“Remember your center don’t expose yourself to an opponent.” Dinah calls out to Batgirl.

“You’re a great teacher Dinah.”

“Very kind, but we still have much work to do little Bat. Are you up for it?”

“Bring it.”

It’s comical how some of the Robin will just appear out of thin air. Hal walks into his room to find Robin (Tim) studying the Lantern battery. “Lost kid?”

“No.”

“…you bats always like this?”

“Like what?”

Clark doesn’t notice a Robin clinging to his leg like a baby kola bear.

“Uncle Clark can we get—“

“Ahhhhh, oh it’s just you.”

“You didn’t know I was here?” Dick looks up at him.

“Sorry, kiddo. I’m think we should get you a bell.”

“Okie.”

“So, the bag of heads. Were they real?” Barry asks between bits of chili dog.

“…I was a little theatrical back then.” Red Hood hums.

“But they were fake, right?”

“….”

Ollie can’t go five feet with other Spoiler and Black Bat following him like shadows.

“I don’t know if I’m supposed to be honored or terrified.”

“Both.” Cass replies.

“Father says you come from Mars, I’ve been told your people were intelligent and superior race. I wish to learn about your home planet.”

“Very well.” J’onn nods at Robin.

The Question enters his room to find his last three unsolved cases, solved and a fresh cup of coffee. He knows it’s the third Robin. He would always sneak off and go over clues with him while Batman was busy with the others.

HawkGirl and Spoiler love sparring together. They both find it entertaining watching the other women push herself and learn from one another.

Bart and Konner are the least bit surprised to find Tim at the computer screen in the exact same spot. They spend the next forty minutes trying to get Tim to take a break because he hasn’t blink once since they left him to go watch Jon’s baseball game.

Damian and Jason spend every Sunday together. It’s actually funny because Damian will agree to plans with Dick or Jon and cancel last minute because he and Jason are reading the next several chapters of a novel and munching on Cinnamon rolls Jason baked that day. Alfred the cat is invited too.

Sometimes Cass likes to keep tabs on her family, she has been known to scare the Justice League by watching Batman from the shadows. She enjoys scaring Superman the most. Bruce enjoys this too.

Donna and Wally are Dick’s emergency contacts. Bruce finds this a little hurtful but doesn’t question it. Donna is also Dick’s Power of Attorney incase someone needs to handle important matters for him should he be unable to do so.

Out of all of Dick’s OG team Damian likes Garth the best.

Starfire and Babs had a rocky start to the relationship but no the two are thick as thieves. They go to little shops together and movies. And they truly do have a sisterly bond, Kori will berate stores for not including wheelchair access and providing disabled bathrooms. Barbara has had break two guys hands from trying to get fresh while Kori was clothes shopping. The two even have weekly movie nights at the Clocktower.

[steveseddie]

with a cold breeze

rating: t | cw: none apply | word count: 4,281

tags: eddie munson lives, didn't know they were dating, getting together, first kiss, fluff and hurt/comfort

for the @steddielovemonth prompt: “love is giving him your sweater even if it makes you cold” by @stevesbipanic

a/n: this is my first time writing a prompt for this event and it was so much fun! also this ended up longer than i thought but. enjoy 🩷

click here to read on ao3

***

In Eddie’s defense, he shouldn’t have been expected to bring a jacket. Not when Steve didn’t tell him where they were going or when he sent Eddie spiraling into a pit of pining by showing up at his doorstep with a white shirt tucked into a pair of tight blue jeans and a black jacket thrown on top, looking like he stepped out of Eddie’s dreams.

Now that he thinks about it, Steve might’ve told him to grab a jacket, but Eddie was too busy picking his jaw off the floor to listen to him.

When he stepped out of the trailer and followed Steve to his car, Eddie felt a light chill in the air, but since he assumed Steve was taking them to the movies or for dinner at that diner he likes, he figured the flannel he was wearing over his Metallica singlet would be enough to withstand it. 

Eddie doesn’t know exactly when this became a thing they did- Steve picking him up and taking him to dinner or a movie or ice cream or roller skating. 

(That last one was Eddie’s least favorite one because he spent half the time they were there falling on his ass. Or maybe it wasn’t, because the other half was spent holding on to Steve’s hand as he guided Eddie around the rink and helped him keep his balance.)

Eddie still can’t help but feel surprised whenever Steve turns up at his door, even if it happens multiple times a week these days. He knows this is what friends do, but maybe it’s still just a little hard to believe that he’s friends with Steve Harrington. 

(“You make it sound like I’m some kind of celebrity, man,” Steve said the first time Eddie voiced his shock about him wanting to spend time with Eddie. 

“Dude, you are the king of Hawkins! You are a celebrity!” Eddie said, dramatically shaking Steve’s shoulders which earned him a mighty eye roll and a playful shove. “And celebrities don’t want to spend time with freaks like me.”

Steve’s face softened at that, he bumped Eddie’s shoulder with his. “Well, this one does.”)

Eddie knows Steve is being genuine every time he says he wants to hang out, but a part of him always expects Steve to get tired of him and ditch Eddie, and start taking a nice pretty girl on these outings instead. 

(“Dates, they’re dates,” Max deadpanned after hearing Eddie ramble about Steve for roughly ten minutes straight. She’d clocked Eddie’s feelings for Steve right away when he came back from the roller rink with his backside bruised, but still with a dopey smile on his face to Max waiting for him at the steps of his trailer. “Steve Harrington is taking you out on dates!” 

“He’s not, they’re not dates,” Eddie said with a firm shake of his head. 

“Dude, Lucas literally took me to the roller rink last week.” 

“Aw, cute. Did he hold your hand?” 

“I held his, I skate, remember? And for a jock, he’s got terrible balance,” she says, lips twitching into a little smile. “Not as bad as yours though.” 

“Hey!”)

Even if Max insists on calling them dates, Eddie won’t. He can’t. He knows Steve doesn’t see them that way so he can’t do it either, not if he wants to protect his heart. 

So he ignores that Steve opens the door to his car for him like he would if this was a real date and he ignores that he lets Eddie pick the music or that he keeps a few of Eddie’s tapes in his car for him to choose from, even if they’re not at all what he likes, and he ignores the way he keeps glancing at Eddie at stop signs or red lights with a sweet little smile that makes his stomach swoop like when he went through the gate to the Upside Down did, only better. 

Or he tries to ignore it, at least.

“Soooo where are we going?” Eddie asks, contorting himself so he can sit cross-legged in Steve’s passenger seat after picking the music for the ride. 

Steve bops his head to the beginning of a Dio song and Eddie can’t help but feel proud. 

“It’s a surprise,” he says. 

Eddie groans. “Is this surprise also going to end up with me not being able to sit properly for a week?” He only realizes how that sounds when Steve’s head snaps to him, eyebrows high on his forehead. God. “You know cause I kept falling on my ass at the roller rink, not because- uh.” 

He doesn’t know how to finish the sentence, but luckily Steve spares him. With a soft laugh, he says, “Don’t worry, you won’t have trouble sitting after tonight.” Then Steve smirks, the little shit. “From falling on your ass- or some other reason.” 

Eddie flushes bright red.

He lowers the window and shivers when the cold air hits his face, but the wind helps cool down his flushed cheeks so he leaves it open. He notices that instead of driving them downtown, Steve is driving them further out. 

“I’m not gonna have trouble sitting ‘cause you’re luring me into the woods to murder me? Is that it?”

“And why would I want to murder you?” Steve asks, pinching the bridge of his nose like entertaining Eddie’s nonsense causes him physical pain. 

The wind blows Eddie’s hair away from his face. “Maybe you’re jealous of my luscious hair.” He hopes the wind makes him look like one of those cover shoots on the magazines that he sees at the store, but realistically, he knows he probably looks like a dog sticking his head out the window. “My naturally beautiful hair that doesn’t need any Farrah Fawcett spray.” 

Steve narrows his eyes at Eddie. “That little shit told you!” 

Eddie grins. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. Dustin told you, didn’t he?” 

“I won’t reveal my sources,” he says, pretending to zip up his lips. 

“You don’t have to, you dork. Dustin is the only one I told.” He pauses, thinking. “Maybe I am committing murder tonight.”

“Mine?”

“Henderson’s. And then yours so the secret dies with you.” He glances at Eddie with a smile. “And maybe because I am a little jealous of your beautiful hair.” His voice is a little too soft to sound like a joke.

Eddie gives him a shy smile and then flicks his hair over his shoulder with a dramatic flare. Steve laughs, head thrown back, as they drive past the Leaving Hawkins sign. 

***

Steve drives them to the top of a hill just outside of Hawkins. 

Eddie’s first thought when Steve parks his car next to a little forest is that maybe he’s actually planning to murder him tonight. 

His second thought comes when Steve opens Eddie’s door and a gust of wind hits Eddie, making him realize that no, his flannel won’t be enough. He’s going to freeze his ass off so even if Steve doesn’t murder him, Eddie will die anyway. 

His third thought comes when Steve takes hold of his wrist and drags him out of the car and towards a cliff overlooking most of Hawkins.

Eddie voices that thought with an appreciative whistle.

“Holy shit, that’s a killer view.”

“Right?” Steve asks with a grin. His fingers are still wrapped around Eddie’s wrist and he can feel the way he’s bouncing excitedly from one foot to the other. 

“Yeah, wow. You wouldn’t think that Hawkins is a shit town from up here,” Eddie says, taking in not only the night lights, but the stars above them too, shining brighter than Eddie has ever seen them.

“Yeah, it almost looks normal, no monsters or alternate dimensions.”

“No hordes of angry town people who want to burn you at the stake.” 

Steve gives Eddie’s wrist a comforting squeeze. He glances at the ground. “No shitty parents calling you a disappointment and an embarrassment,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. 

Eddie frowns. He shakes his hand until Steve loosens his hold, but before he can retreat it into his pocket because he thinks Eddie is trying to get him to let go, he tangles his fingers loosely with Steve’s. “They came back tonight?” 

Steve stares down at their hands, his thumb rubs over one of Eddie’s rings. “Yeah, and they managed to pick a fight within five minutes of walking through the door. Must be some kind of record.”

Eddie squeezes his hand. “I’m sorry, Steve.” 

With a sigh, Steve finally looks up. “It’s not your fault, and besides-” He smiles at Eddie. “I didn’t bring you here to talk about them.” 

Eddie narrows his eyes at him. “What did you bring me here for?” 

Steve’s smile turns into a grin, he drops Eddie’s hand and starts walking backward toward the car. “Wait here.” 

“You better not be abandoning me to die here!” 

He gets no reply. Eddie squints at him as he rummages through the trunk of his car but it’s a little hard to see clearly in the dark. He wraps his arms around himself while he waits, feeling colder by the second, and resists the urge to ask Steve if he has an extra jacket lying around. It’ll send him into Mother Hen mode and he’ll start fussing about Eddie catching something and probably scold him for not bringing his own jacket. 

So he acts as nonchalant as possible about the cold when Steve comes back, hiding something behind his back that Eddie can’t see. 

“I didn’t bring you here to murder you or abandon you. I brought you here to have a picnic with me.” As he says this, he shows Eddie what he was holding behind his back- a checkered blanket and a goddamn picnic basket. 

Eddie blinks dumbly at the two items and then at Steve, mouth gaping like a fish. “A picnic?” 

Steve nods a little shyly. “Um yeah, is that okay?” 

Eddie lets out a disbelieving laugh. A fucking picnic under the stars- oh, Max is going to have a field trip teasing Eddie about this one!

He realizes that Steve might be taking his reaction the wrong way when he starts to fidget so Eddie wipes the surprise from his face and grins at Steve. “Depends on what you packed in there, big boy.” 

A high-pitched laughter tumbles out of Steve’s lips and even with just the moonlight he can see his cheeks tint pink. “Well, do you like grilled cheese?”

***

Eddie makes grabby hands at the basket. Once Steve spreads the blanket on the ground, he flops down and starts digging through the contents.

There’s grilled cheese wrapped in tin foil paper, two bags of chips, two sodas, and a big serving of pie. Eddie’s mouth waters. 

“So,” Steve asks, wrapping his arms around his knees. “What do you think?” 

“I think,” Eddie pauses, thinking. “That I don’t care if you murder me as long as you let me eat this first.” 

“You’re so annoying,” Steve snorts, rolling his eyes.

“If I’m so annoying,” Eddie says, neatly arranging the food between them on the blanket, or as best as he can on the uneven ground. “Then why did you go through all this trouble for little ol’ me?”

Steve bites the inside of his cheek. He looks like he wants to say something, but then changes his mind, only to part his lips again. The look in his eyes betrays nothing, no matter how much Eddie tries to read it. Despite the cold, Eddie’s hands start to sweat a little. 

But then Steve shakes his head and looks down, picking up his grilled cheese. When he looks back at Eddie again, his eyes are soft, crinkling at the corners, but whatever he saw in them before is now gone. “Let’s eat before it gets cold, okay?”

After the first bite, Eddie discovers that Steve must be some kind of grilled cheese genius. When he tells Steve this, he waves it off with a shy smile, but he seems pleased. 

They talk in between bites of food, or in Eddie’s case, through mouthfuls of melted cheese. The whole time, Eddie tries to ignore the chill in the air, but every gust of wind reminds him he’s only wearing a singlet under a very thin flannel and neither does much to protect him from the cold. Still, he does his best to hide his shivering from Steve, but it’s a little hard to do when Steve won’t take his eyes off of him for some reason.

Right now, he’s staring almost unblinkingly at Eddie with his legs crossed at the ankles and his arms wrapped around his knees, a soft smile painted on his lips as Eddie tells him how excited he and the kids are about the next Hellfire meeting. 

“You’re always excited about your nerdy game,” Steve smirks. 

“Fair, but this time it’s different because the kids finally convinced Max to play!” 

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “How did they manage that?”

“Well, they didn’t convince her so much as they tricked her into it.” 

“Yeah, that makes more sense.” 

“But! It doesn’t matter cause she’s going to love it so much she’ll beg to join again! I’ve been working on her character sheet to make it perfect for her and I got her this cool set of dice- red dice, of course, cause her character will be called Ruby. Ruby the Rebel.”

Steve’s smile turns impossibly softer at Eddie’s excited rambling. “That sounds just as cool as her. What kind of- uh like, what’s her-”

“Class?” Eddie asks, stomach swooping a little at Steve trying to remember things about their nerdy game so he can ask Eddie. Steve nods. “Oh, she’s a-” He cuts himself off when a cool breeze stirs beneath his flannel and he shivers with a curse. “Jesus H. Christ!” 

Steve startles and his head whips in different directions, looking out for danger. “What?” 

“Sorry, nothing! It’s just really cold! Sorry!” 

Steve relaxes, then frowns. Narrowed eyes travel over Eddie’s body. “Wait, where’s your jacket?” 

“Uh.”

“Did you leave it in the car?” 

“More like, left it at home?” Steve’s face turns pinched. “You didn’t tell me where we were going, I didn’t know I would need a jacket!” 

“Yes, you did, I told you to bring one!” Steve says, exasperated. 

Oh. So Steve did tell him to bring a jacket. Huh. 

“Here,” Steve says and then starts shrugging off his jacket. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m giving you my jacket, obviously.” He removes it completely and Eddie gives himself a second to commit to memory just how tight Steve’s white shirt is. It’s also thin. Eddie shakes his head. 

“But you’ll be cold.” 

“I won’t.” He shrugs. “I run hot.”

“You’re hot,” Eddie says and realizes too late that his brain-to-mouth filter must’ve been damaged by the cold. “I mean you look hot, like you don’t look cold.”

Steve bites down on a grin. “Take the jacket before you catch something, Eds.” 

“O-kay, mom Steve.” He accepts the jacket, and when he puts it on, he can’t help but sigh happily. It’s warm from Steve’s body heat. It also smells just like him. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Steve smiles. “Now, what were you saying?” He asks and it takes Eddie a minute to remember what they were talking about, distracted as he is by Steve’s warmth and smell surrounding him.

***

“Do you ever think about leaving Hawkins?” 

Eddie jerks his head back, out of the basket where he was looking for the forks that Steve packed for the pie. “Uh, like, every day of my life, man.” 

“Because of Vecna?”

“No, long before that.” Eddie finds the fork. Singular. “You only packed one, Stevie, but I can just use my fingers.” He wiggles them and Steve shakes his head. 

“We can share,” he says. Alarms go off in Eddie’s head at the thought of passing the fork back and forth between them, sharing the slice of pie. He hasn’t been to that many dates in his life, but sharing dessert sounds a lot like a date thing.

“Sure,” he says, shrugging casually. Steve takes the first bite and hands it to Eddie. “Anyway, yeah. I always knew I wanted to leave. Knowing that there’s an alternate dimension at our feet that could pop up the next monster at any second only made the urge stronger, but. Gotta graduate first.”

“Where will you go? When you graduate?” 

“I don’t know. Some big city with a cool music scene, maybe. I can join a band that’s actually going somewhere.” He snorts. “No offense to Corroded Coffin.” 

Steve chuckles. “I’ve always thought you belong in some big city.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks with an arched eyebrow.

“Yeah, dude, you’ve always seemed- I don’t know, too big for Hawkins,” he says with an awed tone. Eddie’s throat feels dry, he skips the next bite of pie, giving it back to Steve. “Like you should be somewhere with people as loud and talented and great as you.”

Eddie swallows thickly. His eyes haven’t left Steve’s face, but Steve isn’t looking at him, instead he’s staring ahead at Hawkins or maybe like he’s trying to see even further than that. Eddie’s glad he’s not looking at him, he doesn’t even know what his face is doing right now, listening to Steve talk about him like that, there’s probably hearts in his eyes or something.

“I- I’ve always wanted to go to New York,” Eddie says to break the silence. Steve hums like he thinks it’s a good idea. “What about you, Steve? Do you think about leaving?”

“Sometimes. I- I’ve actually been saving up money to go to college. Nothing prestigious like Nance or Robin, just community college maybe.”

“That’s great, Steve,” Eddie says.

“But I don’t think I can leave until I know it’s over, you know? The Upside Down, especially if the kids are still going to be here.”

“Yeah, I’ve thought about that. Kinda makes you want to steal another RV, pack them all up and leave Hawkins for good.”

Steve meets his eyes finally. He smiles. “Yeah, exactly.”

“I think we could do it,” Eddie says, entertaining the thought for a moment. 

“You don’t think we’d end up in jail? For grand theft auto and kidnapping children?”

“Shh, let a guy dream, Harrington.”

“Okay, okay,” Steve says, holding up his hands in defense. “You know I haven’t told anyone about saving up for college. Just you.”

“Not even Buckley?”

Steve shakes his head. “I already failed once trying to get in. I don’t want anyone to know that I’ve failed again. I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

Eddie thinks about what Steve said when they got here, about the fight with his parents, about them calling Steve a disappointment. “You could never disappoint me. Or Buckley or the kids. We all worship the ground you walk on, King Steve.”

“Shut up,” Steve says with a lighthearted shove to Eddie’s shoulder. “You don’t.”

“We do! Because we know just how good and badass you are, and whoever can’t see that is a butthead.”

“Are you calling my parents buttheads?” Steve asks with a barely concealed snort. 

“That’s exactly what I’m doing!” He puts his hands around his mouth and yells. “The Harringtons are buttheads!”

Steve breaks into giggles, falling back against the blanket, squirming with laughter. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but you love it,” Eddie says without thinking, and watches as something flashes across Steve’s face.

Before he can backtrack or brush it off as a joke, Steve sits up again, his jaw set with determination. 

“The fight with my parents was because of you,” he says. And okay, that’s not what Eddie was expecting. 

“Me?”

“They came home just as I was packing this up.” He gestures at the picnic basket. “I didn’t hear them come in until they came into the kitchen. They thought I was doing all of this for a girl so they started going off about me wasting my life and everything that they worked so hard to give me just to go on dates and work at a goddamn video store. They told me that it didn’t matter how much I tried, this girl was going to realize I was a failure and leave me. I don’t know what made me more angry- what they were saying about me or that they were talking about you like they knew you.” Steve pauses and takes a deep breath. “So I snapped and I told them I wasn’t packing all of that for a girl, that I was doing it for you. A guy. And that you would never leave me because I work at a video store or because our dates consist of grilled cheese sandwiches and roller skating and babysitting kids. And I guess that was a little presumptuous of me since we never really agreed that these were dates and I don’t even know if you-”

“Yes,” Eddie says when he finally finds his voice. He lost it somewhere around Steve calling this, and all the things they’ve been doing together for weeks, dates.

Steve blinks, his lips press together like he’s trying to stop himself from smiling, from getting ahead of himself. “You don’t know what I was going to say.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “What were you going to say?”

“That I don’t even know if you feel the same way I feel for you.”

“Yes.” Eddie repeats. “Holy fuck, Steve, yes I do.”

Steve stops trying to hide his smile. He beams at Eddie. “Yeah? You’re crazy about me too?”

Eddie whines low in his throat. “Steve.”

Steve pushes himself to his knees and then he closes the distance between them by crawling towards Eddie. “Are you?”

“Yes.”

“You can’t stop thinking about me and you want to listen to me talk all day about nerdy shit too?” Steve asks, crowding against Eddie until he has no choice but to lean back until he’s lying down on the blanket and Steve is hovering over him. 

“Sports shit but yeah, yes.”

Steve leans down until his lips are right next to Eddie’s ear. “You want to kiss me too?” Eddie shivers, and this time, it’s not because of the cold. He’s never felt warmer in his entire life. 

“Yes,” he says. “Please, Steve.”

Steve closes the distance between them and crashes his lips against Eddie’s, kissing him hard and desperately, drawing a whimper out of him. Eddie kisses back with just as much enthusiasm, his hands coming up to grip Steve’s waist, his shoulders, his arms. 

His freezing arms. 

“Christ, Steve!”

“What? What?” Steve asks, pulling back just enough so that Eddie can see his face- flushed with parted, swollen lips and blown pupils. 

And oh. Yeah. Eddie needs to see Steve looking like this again soon. Preferably when he’s not freezing to death. 

“You’re freezing, man. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was a little busy,” Steve smirks. 

Eddie shakes his head. “I’m giving you your jacket back,” he says, squirming as he tries to shrug off the jacket with Steve still on top of him. 

“No, Eds-” 

“Then we’re going to the car.”

“But I can’t kiss you like this in the car,” Steve pouts and the sight of a pouty Steve because he wants to straddle Eddie and kiss him stupid shouldn’t make him consider staying out here in the cold, but it does. Just for a moment. 

“You can, if we climb in the backseat, baby,” Eddie says with a sly grin. 

Steve’s eyes widen, his eyes flick to the car and then to Eddie’s lips and Eddie sees the moment he makes a decision. “Yeah, okay. Maybe I am a little cold. Let’s go.”

They pick up the trash and the blanket in record time, even while stealing short, giggly kisses. 

“I can’t believe we’ve been on so many dates and you haven’t even asked me out once!” Eddie says, balling up the tin foil paper and throwing it at Steve’s face. He throws his head back with a groan. “I can’t believe Max was right!” 

Steve raises an eyebrow. “You talk to Max about me? Your fifteen-year-old neighbor?” 

Eddie arches an eyebrow right back. “Oh, so you don’t talk to Dustin, your fifteen-year-old best friend about me?” 

“Of course I do,” Steve sniggers. “He’s the one who told me you can’t roller skate to save your life.”

“Then why did you take me to the roller rink?” Eddie asks with an undignified squeak, feeling the phantom pain of his many falls.

“So I could do this-” Steve takes hold of Eddie’s hands, tangling their fingers together, “-all night.” 

Eddie flushes, looking down at their hands with a smile. “That was a good plan, I’ll give you that.” 

He rubs his thumb over Eddie’s knuckles. “I have more where that came from.” 

The touch makes Eddie’s insides flutter, he pulls a strand of hair across his face with his free hand, but Steve can probably still see his red cheeks. “Yeah?” 

“Mhm,” Steve hums. He crowds against Eddie until his back hits the car, pinning him against it. “And I can show you. If you agree to go on a date with me.” Steve’s free hand plays with the lapel of his jacket on Eddie. “Officially, I mean.” 

Eddie grins. “I thought you’d never ask,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth. 

Then he’s dragging him into the backseat, and for the rest of the night, neither of them feels cold again.