#and it wasn’t even planned. it was spontaneous

[starredforlife]

the fucking democratic administration is going to maybe 50% chance throw us into a war before the general election if it doesn’t back the fuck off and cut the support for Israel. They are going to drop kick any and all momentum they have from a new candidate because of this. this Harris campaign becomes a complete lost cause.

[6ebe]

why have I been asked on spontaneous evening plans by different people two days in a row who do people think I am omg

[stars-for-circe]

Tongue Tied

Support Palestine

Tags / cw: EXTREMELY suggestive, oral fixation, fingers in mouth, tongue piercing, piercer!Ellie, choking, finger sucking, Ellie is kinda pervy?? WE USE CELSIUS GUYS. 19 CELSIUS!!!

The leather seat felt clammy below you, despite the gentle faux breeze coming from the air conditioning. Beside you, the small tray of sterile equipment, reminding you of why you were here in the first place.

You shivered. Fuck, who sets the AC at 19 degrees? Wrapping your arms around yourself, you began to regret the choice of wearing a tank top despite the weather outside. Outside, where you’d much rather be - where there wasn’t a room colder than the arctic, or a bunch of needles about to be stuck in you, or a stupid fucking leather seat digging right in-

“Cold? I can turn it up, if you want.”

Ellie Williams. The most popular piercer in the area. Either from her looks or her talent, you couldn’t tell - but it was probably both. Arms crossed as she leaned against the door, and a small, amused smirk on her face as she watched your antics.

“Um, no, it’s fine.” You said shakily - or shyly, rather - smiling through your chattering teeth after you found where the voice came from. You spontaneity was probably enough of an inconvenience, booking an appointment late at night where it was the only time Ellie could fit you in - so it would have been rude to make her wait any longer than necessary to get the piercing done and lock up.

“I’m Ellie, by the way.” She called out, before making a beeline from the doorway to the small station at the end of the room, keeping her head down the entire time. You hummed in response, just barely suppressing the ‘I know’ on the tip of your tongue, as she rubbed some of the sanitiser in and put the gloves on. Then, Ellie paused her movements, back still turned away from you as she raised her head.

“Although….” You held your breath. You could feel the smirk on her faced despite not being able to see it.

“…I’m guessing you knew that already, Jesse told me some pretty girl wanted me ‘specifically’, to pierce her today…”

“What?” You stuttered out, mentally blaming it on the chill, and not your lack thereof. This time, Ellie snickered, shaking her head softly as she turned around heading towards you.

“So, you gonna stick your tongue out for me?” Grin still on her face, she watched as you sputtered out a reply while she haphazardly grabbed the forceps off the equipment tray.

“W-what?”

“You’re here for a tongue piercing, aren’t you?”

…That sly little shit

You could only nod, too taken aback to do much else. The most you expected here was to get a damn good piercing from a really hot girl, what Ellie was doing to you was not planned in your little outing.

“Yeah? So open up, hon. Gotta mark where you want it.”

Now Ellie knew that she didn’t need to mark anything - she was so used to doing this that she could just eyeball it and still be accurate. But, she thought, being able to cup your face, while you oh so obediently stuck your tongue out for her, as she just slipped her thumb ever so slightly into your mouth under the guise of keeping you still, would make up for the extra labour.

Your mouth was warm. Even through the black latex she wore. Ellie could almost imagine how soft it would feel sucking her dick, how delicate you’d be while kissing along the silicone. Fuck, she’d moan out loud if she wasn’t careful - all from the pad of her thumb resting on your tongue. And the way it twitched and made a swallowing motion as the bitter taste of the marker hit your throat really didn’t help.

“Hah…” You made a small noise at the prolonged moment. Surely the marker didn’t need this long to deposit a tiny dot pigment?

Ellie quickly snapped out of it, ripping her gaze from your mouth to your eyes. Right, she was still piercing you today, nothing else. And the taste of the marker probably wasn’t pleasant enough to be placed there for so long…

“Uh- so, ‘m gonna get the needle now.” She stuttered out, before making a joke.

“Last chance to back out…..or tell me if you’re squeamish….”

Fuck, the needle was kinda of big. Like, really big. Was it really meant to be that big? For a moment you hesitated, wanting to back out of this all and go home. But then you looked at Ellie, holding the forceps in once hand, reaching to grab the needle with the other, and you really wondered if backing out and embarrassing yourself in front of Ellie Williams - because of a fucking needle - was worth it. It would be over quick, right?

“Um, no- I mean-” you coughed.

“No, not squeamish, so, yeah, ‘m ready…”

“Yeah? Just uh, take a deep breath, ‘n stick your tongue out when you’re ready.”

You closed your eyes, and took a deep breath. In through your nose, out through your mouth, and stuck out your tongue - just like Ellie said. For a moment, you flinched, feeling the cold press of the forceps clamping on your tongue, before you concluded that keeping your eyes open would lessen the surprises. In front of you was Ellie, although a lot closer than before. And this time, with the needle in her hand, facing you.

She nodded, for approval. And you could only look at her with wide enough eyes that you hoped conveyed your consent, before she slowly, and gently, put the needle through.

Now, if Ellie hadn’t been on the clock, if there weren’t a couple people at the register or a possible camera somewhere in the room, Ellie would have fucked you. She would have shoved the damn piercing in and shove you flat on the seat and she would have fucked you so hard you’d be numb the day after. But Ellie couldn’t.

Fuck, she wanted to, but she couldn’t. Because no matter how fucking hot you were, or how cute you looked staring so trustingly up at her with your cute fucking eyes while she shoved a needle in your mouth, or how your small breathy whine of pain when it went through made Ellie soak herself-

“I uh- ‘m gonna put the piercing through now. It’s gonna feel a bit pinchy for a second.”

She didn’t know if you wanted her back.

You scrunched your eyes a little, as the piercing went through, but discomfort finally turned into relief as you could finally put your tongue back in your mouth. Then it went quiet for a bit, the both of you not really knowing what to do next. Which was weird, because wasn’t Ellie used to doing this?

“Can I um, take a look?”

She stared at you, for a moment, almost like she was in thought, before nodding and reaching for the mirror and handing it to you. You held it up and stuck your tongue out once again. And, to your happiness, it looked really fucking good.

There was a chance you got a little too happy, however, as you smiled openly and started to almost flick your tongue about, looking at it from every angle imaginable. And maybe if you paid less attention to your new modification, and more on Ellie, you’d notice her focused stare on you. Well, your tongue, more like.

You’d have noticed her furrowed brows, deep in thought, her own mouth slightly open at the sight, and her fists clenching and unclenching, too. But you didn’t.

What you did notice, though, was her ripping the mirror out of your hands. Like an epiphany came to her about your piercing. She threw it on the table, making a loud clanging noise, before cupping your face with her hands on each side. She stayed like that for a while, staring at your now closed mouth and so close that you could feel her breath fanning on your face. And it took about five seconds before Ellie’s eyes widened and she realised how fucking weird she was being.

“Uh- fuck-” she began, almost like she was breathless. Her eyes flitted around the room and she shifted on her feet, until she could figure out what to say.

“Your piercing.”

“My…..piercing?”

“It’s crooked. Might be the backing but uh- I need to fix it.”

You raised a brow. Wasn’t Ellie mean to be a really good piercer? Maybe it was the piercing itself or something, you thought, as you nodded closely and opened your mouth. Slowly, you felt her right hand trail from your cheek to your lips, thumb pulling slightly on the bottom one before slipping her index into your mouth.

Shit, Ellie missed it so much. Albeit, it had probably been three minutes since she last had her fingers in your mouth, but it felt so good. Like they belonged there. She wondered how long she could keep this up, before you noticed what she was doing. She was almost worried you’d find out and get mad at her. But then she felt your tongue swishing along her index, and then she slipped her middle finger in too. And then, Ellie stopped giving a fuck.

And you couldn’t help but rest your cheek on the lasting hand on the side of your face, almost nestling into it as subtly as possible. Part of you knew this was unprofessional, that there were better ways to go about a fucked up piercing. But another part of you couldn’t help but like what Ellie was doing. And you couldn’t help but suck.

Ellie choked out a moan. She covered it up though, by talking.

“You need to stop moving. Here, let me just-”

“Ellie-”

“Shhh, don’t move.” She spoke so tenderly, almost whispering to you as her thumb stroked your cheek. Maybe it was the soft dominance she was extruding, or maybe it was because of how desperately fucking wet you already were. Either way, you listened.

You sat pin straight, as you felt the hand cupping you cheek slip down your jaw, and find its place on your throat. And you stayed still, as you felt her hand close around it and squeeze on either side.

“Can you stay still now, baby?” God, that made you feel fuzzy. That and the now limited blood circulation coming to your brain. Fuck, you never realised choking felt this good.

Ellie watched you, as you slouched and drooped your eyes, as drool started to slip out of your mouth while you were still sucking on her fingers. How you whimpered as her hold on your throat tightened - how your thighs rubbed together as she did that.

And you watched Ellie, through your hazy, droopy eyes, as her breathy pants got deeper, as she leaned even closer to you as her grip tightened, and as her eyes searched yours for some sort of response to a question she didn’t ask - but you knew she wanted the answer to. You sucked even harder. You let your tongue run along the ridged and bumps the gloves made on her finger. You swallowed so hard that her hand on your throat moved along in tandem.

“Shit- you- ohmygod-” Ellie’s eyes rolled to the back of her head and she whined. She was pleading you at this point.

And you nodded.

…Fuck it.

“You wanna fuck?” She mumbled breathily, taking a long, condescending glance at your body - the state of your body - and then another at the lock on the door. Running a hand through her hair, Ellie took a deep breath, before letting out a loose chuckle.

“God- s’is so fuckin stupid…” She ran her tongue along her teeth, scoffing at how eagerly, how desperately you looked at her. And this time, she answered her own question for you.

“…..Yeah, let’s fuck.”

Taglist: @happysparklingshadows @irelandzo @r3starttt @iamaboringrattat @genderfluidlesbain999 @slut4mascss @rxreaqia @kylorey25 @massivepeacefemme @elliewilliamsfavborderhopper @elliewilliamsisactuallymygf @ratdungeon @elxarw @mariasabanahabanabana @vvynia @abbyshands @littlegingerperson5 @flowersforvi

[emocheol]

first kiss with seventeen

seungcheol

gets all nervous

has been planning this for weeks

wants it to be so good so bad that he ends up colliding his forehead with yours when he’s going in

gets all red from embarrassment and makes you swear to never tell anyone about it (so of course you tell everyone)

“please tell me that wasn’t the worst first kiss you’ve had”

“well if that’s what you want to hear…”

jeonghan

makes you make the first move

can tell that you’ve been wanting to kiss him since you’re always looking at his lips, just wants to make you work for it

will spend the entire day teasing you by getting close and then pulling away

you have to grab his face and hold him there to finally kiss him

he won’t ever let you live down the fact that technically you made the first move

“you’re obsessed with me, huh?”

“you’ve been teasing me all day!”

“doesn’t change the fact”

joshua

extremely confident

just makes out with you when he feels the timing is right

can’t get enough and will not stop kissing you

becomes a norm in your relationship for him to kiss you every second he gets

“why are you always kissing me?”

“why? can’t i show my partner how much i love them?”

jun

shy shy shy

makes a whole romantic date and at the end he asks if it’s okay to kiss you

is soooo nervous that you’re going to say no, but of course you say yes

swears that fireworks explode when your lips touch

he is so whipped for you

“i think im in love with you”

“what was that?”

“uhhh i think we need more glue!”

soonyoung

gives it no thought

just spontaneously kisses you when he gets extra happy one day

“babe! look our song is number 1!” and presses a bunch of kisses on your lips

all he remembers is how nice it feels to kiss you

continues to kiss you whenever he feels like it and loves it twice as much whenever you initiate it

“soonyoung! you just kissed me!”

“yeah! did you not like it? :(”

“no it’s okay, do it again”

wonwoo

quite simple about it

will pucker his lips at you and wait for you to kiss him

won’t get embarrassed over it either

he’s in love with you! he’s not scared to show his affection

“wonwoo what are you doing?”

“waiting for you to kiss me, angel”

jihoon

heat of the moment kiss

everything feels so right

feels like he’d be doing you a disservice if he didn’t kiss you

is the most gentle man on the planet and holds your face in his hands

will let you take control of the kiss, just this one time

you’ll be grinning like an idiot

“what was that for?”

“just felt right”

minghao

encourages you to kiss him first

you just got promoted at your job and you’re over the moon about it, so you’re celebrating with minghao

“you can kiss me if you want” he’ll say as if it’s the most casual sentence ever

you get all shy and press a sweet kiss to his lips

he’ll take the lead

“don’t be shy, sweetheart”

“you’re just too handsome :(”

mingyu

he’ll be sick and sulking because he wants to go on your planned date but he can’t get out of bed

profusely apologizes but you won’t accept them because it’s not his fault!

when he won’t stop rambling you’ll lean down and kiss him to shut up him

when you pull away he has a dopey smile on his face

“do that again!”

“i can’t risk getting sick…”

“i’ll nurse you back to health”

pulls you down to him, and pecks your lips a bunch of times

seokmin

#1 gentleman

wine and dine

“i totally understand if you’re not ready but, can i kiss you?” SWOON

makes you feel like the most special person on the planet

will still ask you if he can kiss you multiple times after that

“can i kiss you?”

“seokmin we’ve been together for a year”

“doesn’t hurt to ask!”

seungkwan

smooth so so smooth

you’ll be playing a game and the prize is the winner gets to make the loser do whatever they want

seungkwan wins (of course)

pretends to think about what he wants even though he knows

“kiss me”

“what?!”

“i won so i want you to kiss me”

cue you being a blushing mess and giving seungkwan a light kiss

vernon

gets home from work one day and kisses you when he walks through the door

you’re shocked and he’s acting like it’s an every day occurrence

doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it

(he’s secretly been wanting to kiss you for weeks)

“what was that for?”

“just missed you, baby”

this becomes a regular occurrence when he gets home from work now

chan

nervous as hell

wants to be smooth and he is!

until he’s not

accidentally bites your tongue (a/n: i have had a man bite my tongue before and it hurt for a week)

profusely apologies but he’s such a cutie, how can you be mad?

“i’m so sorry, do you want me to get ice?”

“no, chan, just kiss me again”

does it right this time

[nerdy-novelist017]

Apologies (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader pt 6)

Ahhh don't come at me for the lack of updates lately! 😅 I've been so distracted with watching the Olympics and my job. I'm not meant to work a ful-time job, your honor. I just wanna write silly fanfics all day and read all night pls and thanks ! Anyway, enjoy! 🩷

Benny x Bunny Masterlist

Word Count- 3.4k+

Summary- The last person you expect to be there to dry your tears is that stubbornly persistent biker of yours.

******

Pete never showed up to your fundraiser. You had waited the whole afternoon in the hopes that you’d see him, but he wasn’t there for your event. He wasn’t there for the bake sale, or the picnic. He didn’t even show up for the auction which you were sure he’d be interested in that since one of the items to be sold was an expensive golf club set. He must have had other plans, you tried to tell yourself. He must have been too busy. 

You hadn’t seen Benny after that either, but you tried to find that as more of a relief than disappointment, after all, he was the reason you and Pete had a bit of a disagreement anyway. Part of you wondered if he only showed up for your tent since you hadn’t seen him anywhere else at the charity afterwards. Regardless, the hours passed at the picnic and you eventually helped everyone pack up before you left too, riding home on your bicycle. You tried to call Pete when you made it home, but his mother answered and told you he wasn’t home. You asked her to have him call you when he could. You ate dinner with your family and tried to not look too hopeful every time the phone rang because it was never Pete calling you back. You expected to go to bed with a sense of dejection, but instead you were surprised to feel something closer to  . . . relief. 

So the next two days went by quickly. You were too busy with work and household chores to notice that Pete hadn’t called you back. It was only when you had gotten up early to start on breakfast on the third day that he finally did ring you. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t seen you much,” he told you over the phone. “I miss you.”

“It’s okay, I’m sure you were busy,” you mumbled as you stirred the pancake batter, phone receiver balancing precariously between your cheek and shoulder. 

“I want to see you this weekend. I can pick you up around noon on Saturday if you’re free.” 

You agreed a bit reluctantly, but he didn’t seem to catch it. 

******

“Oh, are you going to teach me to golf?” you asked excitedly as Pete pulled into the country club parking lot. He’d been quiet to tell you where it was that he was taking you today, but you wanted to trust the spontaneity of the moment so you let him drive you to the mystery location. Out of all the places he could have surprised you with, this certainly wasn’t what you were expecting. Part of you was confused because you hadn’t expressed a particular fondness for the sport, but another part of you felt warmth that he wanted to share his hobby with you. 

“Yeah, I thought you’d like to join me and the boys today.” He smiled at you as you both exited the car. “Sit in the cart and look pretty while you cheer us on.”

Oh. So he wasn’t even teaching you his hobby. You wanted to say something back, to tell him that you were willing to learn if he taught you, but his friends came over then, interrupting your chance to speak. Pete introduced you to them, five in total and you struggled to remember their names. But it didn’t matter much since all chances of you speaking were thrown out the window when they bear hugged each other, and turned to go out onto the field. You followed behind, quietly trying to find a place in their obviously-tight friend group. And that’s how you spent the next three hours: awkwardly existing in their world, sitting on the cart and watching them play. You were the only girl, and it was clear that they didn’t know how to involve you much in their conversations. And when you were able to pull Pete to the side for a moment, you asked if he could let you take a swing once, just to try it out. He nodded but said, “Well, maybe in the next game, this one I’ve got a bet on and every shot counts.” You didn’t ask again. 

Even though you were still technically spending time with him, this didn’t feel in any way fun or exciting. You tried not to, but your mind drifted to your night spent at the bar with Benny and how fun that was, despite it being a bar full of bikers – a scenario you would have never thought you’d be in, let alone enjoy. As you sat in the golf cart, having nothing better to do than to watch Pete with his friends, you wondered if this was all he wanted you for. Were you really just a doll to him? A trophy? You didn’t get to play? 

After the next game ended, you asked Pete if he could take you somewhere for lunch and he seemed almost reluctant to leave his friends. But in the end, he did agree, and you said goodbye to the band of golfers. You walked back to the parking lot together and when you spotted his car in the distance, you figured this was your chance to actually talk with him, not just listen to him speak. 

“What do you want out of life, Pete?” you asked quietly as you slowed to a stop on the sidewalk.

“What?” He paused a few paces ahead of you, glancing back. “What kind of question is that?” 

“I mean,” you struggled to gather your jumbled thoughts. “What kind of life do you want?”

His brows pinched together in confusion. “Well, I’m going to school for engineering so I’m going to do that.”

You waited for him to continue, but he just shrugged and motioned for the car. “You coming?”

Not seeing the conversation over quite yet, your feet remained firmly planted in your spot. “But what do you want out of life? What do you want for me in your life?” 

“Geez, (Y/N),” he laughed humorlessly. “Where is this coming from?” His expression darkened suddenly. “Is this because of that dirty biker?”

It was your turn to look confused as you opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off. “Have you seen him again, hmm?”

“I . . . he was at the fundraiser–”

“What did I tell you?” He asked rhetorically as he closed the distance between you. “I don’t want you around that deadbeat again.”

“It wasn’t like I sought him out,” you defended, trying to ignore the rush of agitation at his choice of description. “I had no clue he would be there. I thought you were going to be there.”

“Well, I couldn’t be. You can’t just expect me to drop everything for you at such a late notice.”

“What was more important that you needed to be at?” You frowned.

He rolled his eyes, turning back to the car. “I have my own life.”

That’s when you realized that he was so . . . disconnected, uninterested. He may have wanted you but not in the way of getting to know you. His want was selfish, only born out of lust. He didn’t care about your hobbies or interests. You weren’t even listened to when you spoke to him. The realization was painfully obvious and you felt like a fool, like he had played you. And maybe he wasn’t even aware of it himself, but you could see it now: he didn’t care for you, not in the way you longed for. 

You wrapped your arms around yourself, shaking your head as you watched him approach the driver’s side door. “I know that, but . . . I was just hoping to spend time with you.”

He turned back and threw his arms out dramatically. “I’m spending time with you now, aren't I? Will you just get in the car?” 

You took a deep breath, looking down at your shoes. “I think I’m gonna walk home.”

“Are you serious?” His voice grew colder as he yanked open his door. “Because I didn’t go to your bake sale?”

You shook your head. “No, I like walkin’ and I just want some time to think–”

“You’re going off to find that biker, aren’t you?” 

“What?” Your gaze shot back up to his. “No, I–”

“I knew this would happen.” He shook his head, an unamused smile flashing on his face. “He’s filling your head with all these dangerous ideas. He’s poisoning you against me. Me.”

“I’m not–” 

“Get in the car.” You didn’t realize that it wasn’t a request anymore. 

“Pete, I just don’t–”

“Get in the fucking car, (Y/N)!” He shouted, slamming his hand on the roof, and you jumped at the sound. 

You stared at him, wide-eyed like a deer in headlights. You’d never seen any man act like this, especially not Pete. Panic turned the blood in your veins to ice and you were suddenly painfully aware of just how fast your heart was beating in your chest. Seconds ticked by, and he finally reacted to your speechlessness by rubbing a hand over his face, sighing loudly. 

“Look, just get in the car,” he tried again, his voice barely controlled. “We came here together and I don’t want people to talk about how I’m leaving without you, okay?”

No, it wasn’t okay, you wanted to say, but your throat was suddenly too tight to speak. All you could do was stare at this man who you thought you had a pretty good understanding of, who you never thought would raise his voice at you, who would never command you to do something you very obviously denied. You shook your head, hand holding over your chest in an attempt to even out your heart rate.

He called your name, but you turned and forced your legs to walk, to move away from him. You just wanted to get home to the safety of your bedroom. Behind you, you could hear his car door slam shut and the engine whine as it fired up. He drove over to you, nearly hitting the curb as he weaved.

“Fine, walk home then!” he yelled and revved the engine, tires peeling out on the blacktop as he zoomed away. 

That’s when the tears started falling. You sucked in a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and a sob choked into it. The sidewalk blurred from the stream of tears but you trudged on, wanting nothing more than to escape the prying eyes of the neighborhood. The action of Pete slamming his hand against the metal proof of his car replayed in your mind and something unpleasant gripped your heart at the realization that what you saw was his reaction to not getting what he wanted the first time. This was supposed to be the exciting moments of you relationship, the time when you were still discovering who each other were. If he could be so easily angered by you now, what would 5 years of marriage look like? What would 10? 

And as you approached the intersection, a thought came to you and you felt sick at the possibility that maybe this is what your mother felt before she married your father. And your grandmother before she married your grandmother. Like a chain, these women with hearts and ambitions and dreams all just got married and became something their husbands wanted, lived a dream their husbands had. And maybe that was their dream, but what if it wasn’t yours?

The revving of an engine broke you free from your all-consuming thoughts and fresh fear spiked through you. Was it Pete coming back? But no, you realized. The engine was coming from the gas station you were passing on the corner, and it wasn’t a car, but a motorcycle. The rider pulled up to one of the free parking spots, cutting the engine and kicking out the kickstand. His back was turned to you, but you knew who it was already by the messy blonde hair and signature blue jacket lettered “Vandals” across the shoulder blades. You groaned because he was the last person you wanted to see right now but you needed to walk right by him to continue on your way home. And as ridiculous as it was, you wanted to cry harder at the thought of him seeing you crying. 

When he dismounted, you quickened your pace, putting your head down in the hopes that he wouldn’t notice you. But of course, you heard him call out, “Hey, Little Bunny.”

You sniffed hard, quickly swiping your fingers across your cheeks as you heard him approach. Even though you didn’t slow your pace, he caught up to you quickly. 

“You walkin’ home again?” His voice was light, teasing but you didn’t dare to look up at him. “You must really like–”

But he must have seen your tear-soaked face because he stopped, his hand gently grasping your upper arm. “What’s wrong?”

You bit your lip, and against your better judgment, you glanced up at him. That was all it took before his shoulders visibly stiffened, and his jaw locked tightly. “Who did this?”

“Nobody,” you muttered softly, voice cracking. “I’m fine.”

“Was it Pete?” his grip remained firm on your arm.

“Please, just leave it alone, Benny,” you whispered desperately, and his eyes softened as he released you. A painfully long beat played out between you as you watched him decide if he wanted to press you further for details. But to your surprise, he dropped it, instead, reaching out, his calloused thumb brushing away a solitary tear from the apple of your cheek. You flinched at the contact, not expecting him to touch you so intimately. As quick as he was to make contact, so was he able to let his hand fall back to his side, leaving you wide-eyed at the act. 

“Let me give you a ride home, please,” he asked, his voice so quiet, so compassionate that you were honestly dumbfounded that this was a biker in a notoriously revered club standing before you. “I don’t want you to have to walk back when you’re upset like this.”

You glanced down the sidewalk, knowing you still had a few miles to go before you’d see your house in the distance. You sniffed again, “You won’t try to propose to me again, will you?”

“No strings attached, I promise,” he replied quietly. 

You relented, nodding slightly, and you didn’t protest when he slid his hand into yours, lacing your fingers together and gently tugged you back to his bike. 

******

Benny drove slowly back to your house, and you just buried your face against his jacket the entire ride, focusing on the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat. It gave you time to settle your breathing, to dry your tears, and when he finally did pull up to your house, a disappointed wave surfaced over you. He put both feet down to balance you both, but he didn’t cut the engine, and you didn’t release your arms from around his torso.

“Can we . . . keep going?” you asked hesitantly, unsure of just how patient he was willing to be with you.

“You wanna keep going?” he questioned over his shoulder, and you responded with a brief nod. “Where?”

“Anywhere, just not here.”

He pushed off the ground, revving the engine slightly and the bike picked up speed as you left your neighborhood. You tightened your grip as he drove you out of the city, down the long country roads, past barns and farms, out by the lake and through the winding back roads which cut the woods. He drove until the sun began to make its descent over the far wheat fields, the last warmth of those golden rays catching the two of you like a spotlight, like you were the only two people on stage. And you realized that’s what riding with Benny felt like: solidarity together. You’ve felt a strange sense of loneliness most of your life, even when you were surrounded by others who loved you, but with Benny . . . it was like you were finally being seen. No, not just seen, it was like you were finally being heard. 

But reality came back too quickly when Benny pulled up to a stop light, hand moving to brush across yours as he asked, “You ready to go back now or d’you wanna keep going?”

Keep going, your heart wanted to shout, keep going and let’s drive until we hit the sandy beaches of California. But your head always won the battle in the end, and you only nodded mutely. 

When Benny pulled up in front of your house again, he cut the engine, but remained seated. He held his hand out for you as you dismounted, and he wanted to say something – anything– to make sure that you were okay, to help you. But Benny’s not known for his good communication skills so he clenched his jaw tightly, frustration building in his chest. You needed him, you needed to be consoled, and he was so pathetic that he wasn’t even sure how. 

Sure, he knew how to have someone’s back, especially in a fight. He knew how to throw punches and get back to his feet after getting knocked down. He could do that all day. But you staring at him with your Bambi eyes and heartbroken expression, he couldn’t take it. He just wanted to pull your tiny frame to him and kiss away the tears, to tell you that everything would be okay because he’s got your back. Then a horrible thought clouded his mind because what if he was the reason you were crying? A bitter taste filled his mouth at the possibility. And my god, how stupid could he be because of course he had to dig himself deeper into that hole when he had told you that he wouldn’t apologize for his conversation with your date. At the time he said it, he had no guilt or shame for his actions because he saw nothing wrong with it. He wanted you more than Pete did, he was sure of that. But now as he glanced at your sweet face, he realized that his actions could have hurt you. And all for what – his pride? That seemed so insignificant now.

“Thank you for the ride,” you said ever-so-politely. 

Before you could turn to walk to your front porch, Benny’s hand reached out to lightly touch your own, and he blurted out, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did to Pete. That was wrong, and I see that now. I’m sorry if what I did has hurt you in any way, that was never my intention.”

Your frown deepened, and Benny’s heart sank. But then you said, “I’m not upset with you, Benny, but thank you. That . . . that means a lot to me.”

He was at a loss for words, struck by your angelic voice and unwavering benevolence. He could only watch as you slipped from his grasp and turned away. You were walking away from him, but Benny couldn’t help but feel it meant something more than just putting physical distance between you. His mind raced with thoughts, trying to find something he could say to get you to stop, to be able to see your face again. 

However, it seemed that fate had other plans because you halted in your tracks, hesitating a moment before spinning back around and approaching him again. He opened his mouth to ask if you were okay, but you cut him off as you leaned up and planted a quick kiss to his cheek. His heart skipped a beat at the gentle touch of your soft lips, and he widened his eyes as you pulled back, a shy smile on your face. He grinned because every time he thought he had you figured out, you continued to pull stunts on him. You were the most entertaining thing he knew. 

You took a few steps backwards, but maintained his eye contact as you spoke, “Maybe . . . next time we could go a little faster?”

He knew you were referring to the bike, but God help him because heat burned in his lower belly, and he wanted to pick you up over his shoulder and carry you into your house where he’d show you just what speed he was capable of. He wasn’t sure you even knew what effect your words had on him, or if you even knew the sexual implications, but he felt himself losing a battle of will. “You want there to be a next time?”

You nodded and that adorable rosy color tinted your cheeks. “Yeah, if-if you do.”

He shook his head in disbelief that you were finally giving him a chance. Though looking at your sweet smile now, he didn’t seem to mind the extra effort he had to put in. “You wanna go fast? Look who’s the trouble now.”

You fought to control your smile. “Goodnight, Benny.”

“Night,” he replied as he watched you walk back up the steps to your house, his fingers ghosting over the spot on his cheek that you kissed, wondering if apologies were really that easy. 

-Tag List-

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[sluttsumu]

DOUBLE TROUBLE

.ೃ࿐ feat. atsumu + osamu miya

in which: the twins have a little bet, and you’re their next target. who can make you cum the most on halloween night without anyone knowing, keep quiet virgin or you’ll get caught.

warning: 18+, college!au, fratboy!inarizaki, oblivious!reader, non+ dubcon/peer pressure, threesome, corruptive thoughts, misogyny (?), manipulation, drugs (molly), vaginal fingering, vaginal penetration, unprotected, petname: angel, oral (f!receiving + m!receiving), virginity loss, exhibitionism + voyeurism, implied orgy (with suna), sunaosa TEASE, they’re sleazy hoes. wc: 2k

ೃ࿐ ki’s note: this is fic was supposed to kickstart my kinktober series. i hope you love this as much as i do because i had the best time writing it! in my mind it’s still october 😭 divider: @cafekitsune

two devils, one angel, and fate. being a virgin sacrifice wasn’t necessarily on your halloween bucket list for this year.

— ♡︎ —

“can’t think of anyone to bring ‘samu ?” atsumu piqued, osamu is supposed to be the smart one.

the infamous twins had been thinking for some time on who to invite to their annual halloween party.

there were plenty of guests, but they needed someone special for the night.

atsumu’s fucked half of the bimbos from his fan club, meanwhile osamu was never satisfied with any of his groupies.

“well,” he starts. “i have an idea.” the light bulb in his head flickered before finally going off when he thought of the perfect girl. the dainty little college freshman whom he sees walking around campus all dolled up.

“who’s that girl that we always see with sunarin?” he ponders, in attempt to remember your name. atsumu’s eyes lit up when he realized. he knew exactly who his brother was talking about.

osamu really was a genius.

“y/n..” his tone was unsure, but curious nonetheless. osamu shot a finger gun “bingo.” indicating that his atsumu was right on the money. they paused, staring at one another as if they were reading each others minds. twin telepathy surely was a blessing. if they were both thinking correctly it seems like they’ve got a target.

*incoming facetime from; suna rintaro*

“yes suna?” you answer holding the phone above your face. “what’re you doing tomorrow?” the abrupt question never threw you off anymore, it was common for suna taking you on all kinda of spontaneous adventures on and off campus.

“ ‘m not doing anything, gonna watch horror movies and eat candy.” suna eyed you feigning disgust, what lame plans. “absolutely not..” he scoffs, “the twins invited you to their party tomorrow and you’re going.” the miya twins were mutual friends and have been known to throw some awesome ragers from time to time, how could you decline such an offer?

“i don’t have a costume???” honestly you were trying to find any excuse possible to lessen your chances of coming home wasted on halloween night. but suna had a solution to everything, even this. “wear white, i’ll sort out the rest.” he hung up after the condescending message, leaving you to piece together his surprise.

white, the colour of purity and innocence. nothing is innocent about a college party, especially because,

halloween was the one night a year a girl could dress like a total slut, and no one could say anything about it.

a firm knock was set on your dorm room door. “let’s go” his eyes fixated as you opened the door. suna mildly regrets not taking up the twins’ offer to join them on their escapade tonight, especially with the way that dress hugs your body. he quickly releases himself from the dirty thoughts.

“okay, what’s my costume? you said wear white.” suna’s hand rises from his side revealing a halo. makes sense why he told you to wear white now. it wasn’t until you took in his costume that really made you understand his choice.

he’s dressed in a red button up, except the buttons weren’t being used at all. the devil horns stuck in his hair confirmed the unoriginal costume idea. a few days back he mentioned matching costumes with the rest of his fraternity, and if you had to see the rest of them like this, than you were sure that attending this party was worth it.

the house was loud, as much as it was crowded, suna’s hand around your wrist is the only thing preventing you from getting caught in the ocean of people.

“sunarin! we’re over here.” pi kappa alpha (ΠΚΑ) was one of seven frats at your university, and was definitely the hottest. pretty, rich boys with the world at their disposal. everyone knew this but that never stopped girls from clinging onto them, after all osamu’s arms and atsumu’s abs— focus!

“ah, you made it.” osamu exclaimed opening his arms for a particularly tight hug. you hugged all of them, each cologne scent different from the last. “mind if we steal rin for a minute? won’t be long, promise.” atsumu’s tone of voice couldn’t have been more condescending, talking to you so sweet and saccharin. you nodded, shooting the quintet a small smile, before going to find a drink.

“an angel, cute.” atsumu watched your back was you walked away into a crowd of people. all that clouded his thoughts were all the things he wanted to do to you throughout the night. “get yer head intha game. what are the rules?” osamu chuckled, it was no doubt that he was having the same thoughts as his brother. that’s for sure.

“ ‘ts 10:30, whoever can make her cum the most before midnight first wins. unless you fuck her that is.. she’s a virgin so if you manage to to take her virginity you automatically win. get caught and you have to restart.” the night is young and the rules were set, but there was one question unanswered, whats the prize for a game such as this?

money of course. sex and money have been interchangeable for as long as mankind can remember, no difference here. a thousand dollars put up by each member, totalling to five thousand. winner takes all, loser gets nothing. may the best twin win.

atsumu wasted no time following you to the kitchen hearing the laughs from his friends behind. unfortunate for him bokuto caught your attention a little too quickly. he watched the two of you laugh and introduce yourselves to one another. it wouldn’t go on for much longer, not if atsumu could help it.

“bo-kun! do me a favor would’ya?” he said, slinging an arm over your shoulder. “get some more ice for the cooler, ‘ts intha basement.”

in boy world, this was a territorial interaction meaning; get the fuck out of here.

meanwhile in girl world, you didn’t think anything of it.

bokuto cheerfully agreed uttering “nice meeting you!” before sliding past the crowd of people to go fetch that ice.

“cute costume miya.” you look up to see him above your shoulder. he unhooks his arm from your side, leaning up against the counter. “not too bad yourself. you look,” he pauses for a mere few seconds. thoughts of you and how innocent you look plagued his mind, costume doesn’t help either. something in him was excited to taint that, you’d look so much prettier with your makeup smudged and begging him to make you cum, he thought.

“pretty,” he smiled, eyes shifting around your lips, and neck then back to your eyes. “you look really fucking pretty.”

“nights still young, you like games?” you tilted your head at the question. a suspicious question but how could anyone say no to him. “dependsss..” you drag out the word, tone laced with hesitation. this was all one big game, that you unfortunately didn’t know you were apart of, throwing another in the mix couldn’t hurt.

“how do ya feel about suck and blow?”

—♡︎—

suna forcefully offered up kita’s amex for the game, safe to say that he’s not happy about it.

the game rules were simple; suck and blow, on a card that is. pass the card mouth to mouth without dropping it. drop it and make out with the next person in front of everyone and spend an additional 10 minutes in an enclosed space. sounds easy right? it wasn’t a pi kappa alpha party without this tradition, they have a separate room dedicated for games such as these.

you watched intensely as the card made its rounds over and over you successfully received and passed it on. you were also standing between atsumu and bokuto, yikes! the card was making its way back around and like before it was just a matter of sucking and blowing, until you were locking lips with one of the hottest guys on campus. atsumu ‘dropped the card’ by accident, catalyzing the makeout sesh between the two of you.

it’s hot, it’s sloppy, it’s fucking miya atsumu.

you feel his smile on your lips as he slips his tongue in between yours, aiming for your bottom lip. the whooping, and whistling among the group was enough to encourage the egotism within you both to put on a nice show for everyone. your nails intertwining in his undercut, while his arms hug your waist.

“okay okay,” kita pushes, removing the two of you off of each other. “10 minutes, you know the drill.”

the frat brothers exchange a glance, one of many kita has shared with his little since atsumu started college.

the amount of girls that have survived that room, godspeed.

hearing the door close behind you was almost frightening, even after the spectacle you put on for everyone just now. it wasn’t until you took a few steps in you noticed this is a bedroom, not your average stuffy coat closet.

“suna teach you to kiss like that or what?” he teases, watching you stare at him in disbelief. “can’t believe he hasn’t fucked you yet.”

guess i’ll be the first, he thought.

suna? fucking you? confusion was an understatement really. unbeknownst to you they all thought you were sunas secret fuck buddy till he told them you were untouched.

atsumu almost forgot, and the realization ran through his blood with pure mischief. he was ready to get his hands on you and play with his toy of the night.

“let’s have some fun, yea?” he quips, walking towards you. “fun like what?” unintentionally you take a step back, the two of you flowing in a seamless b-line towards the bed as he goes forward and you go back.

“you’re a big girl right? in college now. ya know what big girls do?” his tone was informative signalling that there’s more to his mini monologue. “big college girls…kiss, and suck, and fuck boys.”

the smooth of your calves hit the sheets.

“a-atsumu i’m—” you’re a stuttering mess, and he finds it adorable.

“you’re what?” he mocks, lifting his voice up an octave to replicate you. it was only a matter of seconds before you were pushed onto the bed with his body caging yours beneath him.

it was all happening so fast, it’s not that you didn’t want to but this has never happened before. being stuck in a room with a guy especially an experienced one was never on you to-do list for today.

atsumu’s done this to many girls. he’s used to fucking bitches every week and you were no different. he never looses and he’s damn sure nothing will change that tonight.

“i’ve never done this before…” shame drowns your conscience as you confess what you thought was a secret. little did you know, he knew.

“s’okay,” his lips pecked against your jaw lightly, he could feel how tense you were but curious as well. “just wanna make you feel good, hmm?” you could feel atsumu’s hand creeping between your thighs though his eyes never leaving yours. this look on your face, the look of a virgin, never gets old for him.

the inquisitive look of “maybe it’s not so bad” staring back at him as he pulls your panties to the side running his fingers along your wet folds. you didn’t protest, or squirm, or defy, you just laid there beady eyes staring, legs spread for him awaiting his touch.

simultaneously, his fingers slide into you with ease while sharing a kiss to keep you quiet, earning a soft moan onto his lips. your body can’t help but concentrate at the foreign feeling of someone else other than yourself fingering you. “ahhh—! s-slow down ‘tsumu, too much!”

“no can do angel, got a lot ridin’ on ya.” completely dismissing your feelings, he continues to pump his fingers into your leaking cunt. “hurts..” you whine. “atsumu it hurts!”

“don’t lie ta me pretty, i can feel you clenching ‘round me.” your face flushed at his words, fluttering around his fingers. besides the slight discomfort it felt so fucking good, you really couldn’t get enough of it.

the humiliation you felt hearing the lewd squelching of his digits fingerfucking you was apparent. you watched in awe as he sped up, arm now jackhammering in and out of you at an ruthless pace. “fuckfuckfuck!” you cry, eyes brimming with tears.

atsumu traps your lips in a messy kiss, tasting a mixture alcohol on each others tongues. whines and whimpers escape fall from your lips onto his at the feeling of the coil in your stomach about to break. the euphoria that overcomes your body when your legs begin to tremble, thighs squeezing around his hand, your virgin cunny covers his fingers in sticky cum.

but his assault on your pussy doesn’t stop there, he’s still going; fucking you through your orgasm. “can’t stop there, you can give me another one baby, know you can.”

“no! c-can’t take it! i—” his hand quickly cups around your lips, muffling any sound that dares to come out of your mouth. time’s almost up and atsumu would throw more than a fit if he got caught and had to restart already.

he could feel it again, your pussy clenching around his fingers. atsumu continued at his gruelling pace, with a slick smile on his face. It was so cute seeing you like this, half an hour ago you walked into this party as an innocent little thing, and now he had you exactly where he wanted you — under him with his fingers buried inside of you, on your second orgasm.

“cumming… ‘m cumming—!” you mumble under the weight of his hand, eyes fluttering shut. “atta-fucking-girl angel.” your chest heaved and knees buckled while you creamed on the blondes fingers once more this time at full force, making you see stars before he pulled out of you.

“wasn’t so hard now was it?” he smiled sucking your slick off of his fingers. atsumu is now leading by two points and cocky was an understatement, he can feel himself growing hard watching your body go limp against the sheets. if he had the time, he’d take you right then and there but there was always an opportunity for that.

“make yourself decent before you come out.” was the last thing he said to you, chuckling while the door clicked shut behind him.

get yourself together! the sound of your own voice mentally cursing you was enough to spring you back to your feet, pulling your dress down, and fixing your hair. luckily for you, everyone continued their conversations, dancing, and games as you crept out the room exhaling heavily with relief.

a few eyes lingered, especially kita’s. he peered at you from afar, while atsumu whispered in his ear. he raised the red solo cup with an upward tilt of his head before smirking in your direction, taking a sip from the cup.

frat boys are just the equivalent to mean girls.

hell, it hasn’t even been five minutes and he’s already going around telling everyone. you couldn’t bare to see it really, causing you to relocate somewhere else in the house, the stairs.

you sat on the wooden steps, eyes glued onto your phone screen. the feeling of someone walking down was evident as the hardwood took a dip at the weight, it was osamu.

he pondered, swirling the liquid courage in his hand. how could he get you on his white linen sheets? he thought. osamu smirked at the idea that popped into his head soon after remembering the common denominator between his bed and that dress you’re wearing.

starring at your back from a few steps above, his eyes moveded to suna who was situated mere meters away from where you sat. he feigns tipping his cup, eyes pointing down to where you sat then back to the brunette.

it was genius, if he ruins that pretty little dress of yours you’ll have no choice but to take it off.

“do it.” suna mouthed covering his words with a cupped hand.

the weight of someone walking down the stairs returns after having paused, you didn’t think much of it until alcohol poured down your shoulder and into your bra from above you.

“sorry angel! that was my bad.” osamu quips, downing the rest of his cup.

“you’ve got to be kidding me..”

“relaaax,” he drawls before reassuring that “you can come change up here.”

—♡︎—

osamu scanned his closet looking for one of his old flings’ clothes murmuring, “no-no-no-too big-too small— damn i should call her..” as he looks through the assortment of clothing.

you waited on his bed partly disgusted at the fact that these clothes were equivalent to trophies.

“check that drawer ta’ your left for something.” he gestures a waving hand, pointing to the side table next to his bed.

the drawer was less then helpful, containing: condoms, an agent provocateur set (brand new, mind you), a bottle of dior sauvage, and a miniature plastic bag with two smiley face pills in it.

he has drugs just laying in his room?

“what’re these?” prodding at the drugs you ask, dangling the bag between delicate fingers.

he turns to face you, smirking when he sees what caught your curiosity. “a pretty girl named, molly.” osamu banged a girl with that name now that he thinks about it.

“you guys seriously take these?” eyes narrowing at the tiny pill analyzing it’s appearance, but wanting to know more at the same time. “are they fun?”

osamu closes the closet door, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. his attention is focused elsewhere when you display genuine interest in the party drug.

“wanna find out?” he asks with the tilt of his head.

fuck around and find out was an understatement, getting fucked after finding out was more accurate really.

“fuuuuck ‘samu..” your manicure runs through silver hair, as he messily laps at your cunt.

every flick of his tongue making your knees buckle, the pleasure was overwhelming your lower half as he teased your clit with the tip his tongue.

you couldn’t get over how good it feels, what was the point of staying a virgin when there’s men who will pleasure you like the miya twins.

“pussy tastes s’good princess.” he mumbles onto you, sending vibrations up your spine, continuing to eat you like you’re his last meal.

he could feel now eager you were to get off, grinding yourself against his face in hopes to chase the orgasmic high that your body was so close to.

the loud noises of his mouth smothered against your pussy and broken whimpers fill up the room.

loud enough for suna to hear through the bedroom door he’s standing on the other side of. he could feel his erection growing, listening to his best friend taint his virgin girl bestie on the most sinister night of the year.

“righthererighthere! ‘m cumming— oh fuck!” the euphoric feelings of the drug in your system enhanced every last nerve running through your veins.

you’re loud, high pitched whines falling from your throat as you throw your head back, eyes shutting tight.

osamu’s face pushed into your cunt with force, nose nudging at your clit. little did the two of you know, the brunette purposely walked into the room with you on the verge of a mind blowing orgasm and osamu’s mouth quite busy.

“you cumming?” suna asks, gripping your face with slender fingers.

your eyes shoot open to see one of his hands planted on the back of osamu’s head pushing his mouth deeper into your pussy, the other holding your face, taunting from above.

“oh yea, you’re fucked.” he taunts, pushing your lips into a kissy face forcefully moving your head from side to side, observing your features.

suna’s done his fair share to know you weren’t all there, your dilated pupils, flushed face and very vulnerable state gave it away.

“don’t be shy, go on. might be ‘samu going to town on ya but your attentions on me, hmm?”

seeing you tweaked out on the verge of your third orgasm of the night really did it for him.

it was torture, watching and hearing the twins have their fun with you meanwhile he had to watch.

absolutely no fair. he’s the reason you even considered coming to the party at all it wouldn’t be all that bad if he used you as a reward for his efforts, now would it?

“rin!!” you whine, “get out! this is embarrassing!”

suna doesn’t bother listening to your protest. he’s already slid his shirt off, unbuckling his belt watching osamu make you cum.

“move it.” he chuckles, tugging at grey locks.

“hey, i had her first.” osamu scoffs at his friends audacity.

“technically atsumu had her first, but it’s my turn. so, are you gonna keep bitchin’ or get your dick sucked while i fuck her?”

the two boys spoke as of you weren’t even there, like you were just an object for them to play with. this wasn’t about the bet anymore. this was about you, and the fact that they’d never get the opportunity to see your tweaked out, legs spread, off molly ever again.

a once in a lifetime opportunity with you in a position to not protest.

suna’s shadow hovered over you, manipulating your body to fit both of them on osamu’s mattress.

hazy eyes stared into his green ones with incoherent mumbles falling from your lips. seeing you fucked out made him want it that much more.

“hang in there for us pretty.” his voice sounding so sincere, meanwhile rubbing the tip of his cock along your slit.

he pushes into you without warning, stretching your cunt around his girth.

“shit..” he hisses through his teeth. “definitely a virgin, fuck.”

“ah—!” your hand flies to his chest in attempt to get him to slow down. “s’too much..”

“none of that,” osamu coos, grabbing your wrist.

you didn’t even notice that he slid his boxers off, smearing precum on your lips like lipgloss.

“hey ‘samu where’s the—” atsumu says, swinging the door open to the lewdest live scene he’s ever seen. “holy hell.”

“are you gonna stare or join?”

sluttsumu 2023

[bellesdreamyprofile]

benny & y/n : first encounter

Your biggest wish had been to try out new things — you weren’t the most outgoing or spontaneous person in Kathy’s group of friends. You didn’t want to be the girl they created plans around. You wanted to be that somebody that Kathy, Martha and Felicia automatically included.

Martha loved to sing, so from time to time she sang at the bar - her usual group of guys cheering her on with a handful of beers surrounding them. Felicia had a weakness for inventing stories that never happened. Everyone knew she wasn’t married to a guy from Ohio, yet she insisted she was and that he was just on a never-ending work trip. That story had been told for years.

You had moved to Chicago months ago and had yet to adjust to the new lifestyle. You worked at the local library from 9 to 5 and gave English lessons to students on the weekend. From time to time, you popped at the animal shelter and helped in any way you could. You loved giving back to the community as you find that the community has given so much to you.

It was a Wednesday morning when you met Kathy at the library you worked at — her hair done up and her eyeliner as sharp as ever.

“You need help finding a specific book?”, you noticed the young woman looking around curiously. She turned around and smiled sweetly.

“No, thank you. Just looking around.”, she responded and gave you another smile. Though before her gaze wandered elsewhere, she took a look at you and then glanced at your name tag.

“You ain’t from here, ain’t you?”, you shook your head a little.

“Just moved here.”, you replied in a light tone. Kathy smiled at your words and extended her hand to you.

“I’m Kathy, pleased to meet ya.”, she introduced herself and you shook her hand, without hesitation. From that day on, she was your listening ear and you were hers.

You had never had a friend as great as her, which is why you felt the need to fit in the group Kathy was in. You loved singing, although in your own kitchen as you baked your favorite sweet — you weren’t as confident and and bold as Martha was. You loved telling stories about your mama and your childhood pet — but even those stories, as innocent and lame as they were, were told in confidence. You did admire Felicia’s ability to tell stories in front of groups of people, though.

Kathy was the one that tied Martha and Felicia to you. You didn’t have much in common, but you gave your best to accommodate their every mood. Restaurants, cafes, cinemas - they took you everywhere. Tonight’s mood was a bar you weren’t familiar with - a bar that people usually avoided, unknowingly to you.

“No way you brought muffins with ya, Y/N.”, Martha looked at you and then at the container on your lap.

You looked at Felicia who had a small smile playing on her lips. “Leave her be. Like you didn’t sing on every table the first time you were at the Lakeside Inn.”, she shook her head, glancing her way through the rearview mirror.

You felt a blush gradually warming up your cheeks. You looked outside of the window and noticed Felicia had finally parked the truck. Before you could hop out, a hand stopped you from doing so. You looked over your shoulder and noticed Kathy was the one who stopped you.

“This bar — it’s uh, something, okay?”, she said, making you reluctantly nod. “Just stay close to us and you’ll be fine.”

You didn’t know what to think at Kathy’s words of warning. One after the other walked in the bar, smiles on their faces as they greeted guys they seemingly knew one or two things about. You followed suit and each time you looked up, you noticed gazes of men you had never seen before. They were nothing like the boys that borrowed a book or two at the library.

They wore denim jackets and smelled like oil, drinking whiskey and abusing on beer. You wondered if they ever stepped foot in a library before.

Darkness engulfed you the moment you stepped in the bar, suddenly realizing the lights were dimmed low — also the contrast with the smoke didn’t help your vision any better. The girls found their usual table by the end of the room and sat down. You moved on the very end of the table and set the muffin container on top of the table.

“You gonna sing something for us tonight, baby?”, a voice called from your left. You looked over and noticed a man with a denim jacket by the pool table, more likely addressing Martha as a giggle escaped her lips.

“It ain’t the day today.”, Martha responded and pulled out her cigarettes from her purse. “I’ll be spending the evening with the girls.”

The guy huffed and turned to his friend with a laugh. “Them girls can sing too.”, he winked at us, making you sigh and look away. You made eye contact with Kathy who gave you a tight lipped smile.

Felicia let out a small gasp and leaned over the table. “Okay, don’t turn around, but oh my god look at Benny tonight.”, Kathy sneakily looked to your left and cleared her throat.

“Yeah, goddamn.”, she whistled, making you chuckle.

“Kathy!”, you smiled at her. “He ain’t no animal.”

Felicia winked at you and raised her eyebrows in a suggestive way. “He’ll be my animal by the end of the night.”, Kathy laughed and slapped her arm. You let out a breathy laugh and finally gathered some courage to look to your left.

Goddamn indeed.

Broad shoulders and defined biceps, complimented by tattoos here and there. Soft, blonde curls made his blue eyes pop under the dimmer casted on the pool table. A cigarette hung from his lips as his hands were busy with the cue stick.

You were speechless. And absolutely mesmerized.

As the mysterious, handsome stranger bent down to aim, his gaze shifted from the balls to the most unexpected person in the room. You.

Your breath hitched in your throat at the sudden eye contact. Blue. Blue. Blue.

Your eyes hastily moved elsewhere — anywhere. The girls, the jukebox, the bar and your ridiculous container. You turned to Kathy, who seemed to take notice of your wild eyes.

“You okay, Y/N?”, she asked, though her eyes moved from you to glance over your shoulder. “Oh, lord.”

Felicia let out a low gasp and started tapping Martha’s shoulder repeatedly. “Woman, go find yourself another man to ogle.”, she rolled her eyes and stood up. “I’m gonna find myself a man I actually stand a chance with.” 

Your eyes moved on Felicia, whose lips pursed at her friend’s words, but within seconds she straightened up.

“Ladies.”, a voice greeted, the honey-like tone sent shivers down your spine. The sound of a screeching chair made you flinch in place. You slowly looked up and there they were again. The bluest eyes in Chicago, you thought.

“Hi.”, he murmured once he was sat down, his chin on top of his crossed arms.

Felicia blinked and let out a breathy laugh. “Hi, Benny.”

Benny.

But his eyes didn’t move on her at the sound of his name. Kathy gave him a nod and an unenthusiastic hi.

Benny’s eyes stayed on the young girl he had never met before. He was almost amused on the way you seemed to tremble in his presence. Shaky hands in your lap and your chest moving quicker after each breath.

“Kathy.”, he said, his eyes finally shifting on the other woman. “Won’t you introduce me to your new friend?”

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words.

Kathy sighed and briefly glanced at Felicia, who hastily pulled out a cigarette. “Benny this is Y/N, and Y/N this is Benny.”

That was the moment where you finally looked up, only to find his burning eyes waiting to meet yours.

“Hi, honey.”, he gave you a smile - yet another reason for your heart to beat even faster.

You felt a blush staining your cheeks. “Hi.”, a small smile started forming on your cheeks.

“Alright. Let’s go.”, Kathy abruptly stood up and nodded to Felicia. Though the girl’s eyes were burning holes on your skin. She absentmindedly stood up and walked away, but Kathy stayed back for a few more moments.

“One hair out of place and I’ll kill you.”, she said and both yours and Benny’s eyes moved on her, her expression stoic. Her words touched your heart in ways nobody could, simply proving once more how good of a friend she was.

“Yes ma’am.”, he nodded and within seconds his attention was back on you. 

Kathy looked at you for a brief moment and smiled. “I know you’re in good hands… Though if you need anything, we’ll be over there.”

You nodded and returned the smile. “Thanks, Kat.”

You sighed and looked back at Benny. You couldn’t help but smile, which was later on followed by a breathy laugh.

“What’s got you giggling, honey?”, he asked, a playful smile on his lips.

“You.”, you answered with no hesitation. He raised his eyebrows and looked down, releasing a soft laugh.

“I’m flattered.”, he said and noticed the container on the table. “You made ´em?”, you looked at the container and nodded.

“Chocolate muffins.”

His eyes stared in yours for what seemed like an eternity. You used up those seconds to look at him too, once again completely mesmerized by the boyish smile he sported, despite the rugged-like exterior.

Oh, you were smitten.

“May I?”

MASTERLIST

PART 2

[incognit0slut]

Much Ado About Nothing (Act III, Scene I: The Fake Dating)

It doesn’t occur to you how serious the situation has become until you're forced to sign your fake relationship on paper.

Part warning: none, this might be the slowest burn I have ever written Words: 2.4k A/n: The original plan was to update this series twice a week, but I overestimated myself, so I will be posting each Thursday around this time. I hope you understand <3

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Spencer wasn’t sure how he would go through with this. The idea seemed simple enough on the surface—pretend to date, fool everyone, and finally find peace. Yet, the more he thought about it, the more complex it became, and the more complicated it was, the more crazy it seemed.

This was not what he had signed up for when he joined the BAU. Chasing criminals? Sure. Analyzing behavioral patterns? Absolutely. But pretending to date you to avoid the relentless meddling from his friends? Insane wasn't a strong enough word for it. It was ludicrous.

And even that word wasn’t enough. It was downright preposterous. How had rational, analytical work turned into this bizarre social experiment? Yet, here he was, ready to play his part even when he couldn’t ignore the absurdity of it all.

“Well, well, well.” Spencer looked up to see you walking from the opposite direction, both of you stopping right at the entrance of the bureau’s expansive building. “If it isn’t my new boyfriend.”

He narrowed his eyes. Why did you seem… so normal about this? Weren’t you the one who hated his guts? Weren’t you the one who avoided him every time you had the chance? Were you really that desperate to get the team off your back?

“What? You’re not going to greet your girlfriend?”

He forced a smile, trying to hide his irritation. “Good morning,” he replied curtly, opening the door for you.

You walked past him, and Spencer tried not to stare at you, but it was impossible to ignore the way your hair shone under the morning sun or how your perfume subtly filled the air as you brushed by him. He cleared his throat and followed you inside, wondering how long he could keep up this act without losing his sanity.

“We need some ground rules,” he muttered, nodding towards security as you both passed through the entrance.

You raised an eyebrow. “Ground rules? You mean besides pretending to be madly in love?”

“We are not in love. We just started dating,” Spencer said, pressing the elevator button. “So no spontaneous public displays of affection. We don’t want to overdo it.”

“What’s your definition of overdoing it?”

Spencer waited until the elevator doors slid shut, giving you a little privacy. "No touching. Especially no hand-holding," he stated firmly.

You scoffed. "Who on earth wouldn't want to hold their girlfriend's hand?"

He replied without missing a beat. "Do you know how many germs are transferred when you hold hands? An average of 3,000 bacteria from 150 different species, not to mention the potential viruses.”

“Wow, remind me to never shake hands with you during flu season.”

He shrugged. “I’m just stating the facts.”

“Okay, germaphobe,” you deadpanned, leaning back against the elevator wall. “What’s acceptable then? A nod from across the room? Morse code blinking?”

He considered for a moment, then offered a compromise, “How about an arm around your shoulder when we’re sitting? Or a quick side hug?”

“Side hug,” you echoed, mockingly horrified. “How romantic. Our friends will believe we’re madly in love for sure.”

“We are not in love.”

“So you’ve mentioned,” you replied dryly, standing straight again and turning toward him. “Can we at least try to look like a couple who actually like each other?”

That was the problem. You both didn’t like each other. “Fine,” he sighed. “What do you suggest?”

You paused, considering the best way to make this look believable. “How about you hold onto my waist from behind as we walk? It’s a common gesture, and it looks natural.”

Spencer blinked, taken aback by the suggestion. “Hold your waist? As in, really close?”

“Yes, Reid, that’s generally where the waist is located.”

He frowned at you. “That sounds a bit too… personal, don’t you think?”

“Isn’t that the whole point? To convince them we’re a couple?”

He hesitated, the image of his hands on your waist flashing through his mind. He suddenly imagined the warmth of your body against his, the subtle, pleasant scent of your perfume enveloping him. He could almost feel the way you’d be tucked right to his side, your height fitting perfectly against him, your head nestled just below his chin.

His heart unexpectedly started to race. The idea of holding you that close, feeling the rise and fall of your breath, the slight brush of your hair against his cheek—it was almost too intimate, too real. And he didn’t want to acknowledge that. He wasn’t sure if he could trust himself to play the role convincingly without his emotions betraying him.

“Reid?”

Spencer snapped out of his thoughts, realizing he had been silent for too long. You were watching him impatiently.

“You know what? Do whatever you want.” You turned away, facing the elevator door, clearly frustrated by his hesitation. “Just stand there like a statue for all I care.”

His eyes slowly fell to your waist, considering his options... Maybe it wasn’t that bad. The idea of his hand resting there, guiding you, didn’t seem as unbearable as he initially imagined. The gesture seemed innocent enough. Not too much, not too little. What could possibly go wrong?

Everything, apparently. Because it happened all at once.

One, he reached his hand toward you.

Two, the elevator door swung open.

And three, as you started to move forward, his hand managed to slip before it landed onto your ass.

You shrieked at the top of your lungs.

"Reid!" 

Spencer's face turned red as he quickly retrieved his hand, stammering, "I-I'm sorry! That wasn't—"

But he wasn’t fast enough, because standing on the other side of the elevator door was Derek, witnessing the whole thing. His eyebrows shot up, and a slow grin spread across his face.

"What do we have here?” Derek drawled, crossing his arms. "Spencer Reid, getting a little too friendly?"

Spencer's mortification deepened as he tried to explain, "It's not what it looks like, I swear!"

Derek chuckled, shaking his head. "Sure, pretty boy. Whatever you say." He stepped to the side. “Well, aren’t you two lovebirds going to get to work?”

Trying to recover from the embarrassment, Spencer nodded quickly, his face still burning. He guided you out of the elevator with a brief, cautious touch on your back that stayed strictly in the safe zone.

You both hurried toward the glass doors, leaving Derek laughing behind you. You slightly leaned closer to him. “I could sue you for sexual harassment, you know.”

“It was an accident! You moved too quickly.”

“Sure, blame it on me,” you retorted, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you pushed through the glass doors ahead of him.

Spencer quickened his pace to keep up, matching your brisk walk. “I am blaming it on you. This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t suddenly decided to move forward.”

“Right, because clearly, I should have anticipated your clumsiness.”

He shot you a sideways glance. “My clumsiness? You’re the one who—”

“There you are!”

You both turned to see JJ walking toward you, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Hotch is looking for you.”

You started to walk away. “Sure, I’ll go see him—”

JJ shook her head, her smile widening. “No, you don’t understand. He’s looking for you,” she pointed a finger at Spencer, then swung it back to you, “And you. Both of you, together.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. “Both of us? Why?"

“Something about filling in paperwork?”

He frowned, but as the implication of Hotch calling you both at the same time for paperwork sank in, he snapped his head toward you, his eyes wide with realization. You turned toward him at the same moment, and the gravity of your seemingly innocent lie spiraled down on him, making the whole situation feel alarmingly real. 

The weight of it pressed on Spencer’s chest. How could he possibly forget about the most important thing in all of this? He had an eidetic memory, he was good at recalling even the smallest details, but how could he not remember the need to officially disclose workplace relationships?

The reality of potentially signing official documents to confirm this fake relationship made his palms sweat.

“This is stupid,” you whispered when JJ finally left the two of you. “Maybe we should think this through.”

Spencer looked down at you. You were right, this was stupid. It was getting out of hand. But as he noticed the way you stared up at him, with your wide, doe-like eyes sparkling under the light, something shifted. This whole lie had started as a means to an end, a way to fend off the relentless teasing. But now, standing there with you, it felt like more than just a plan. Maybe it was the thrill of the unknown, or the strange comfort of the lie. Maybe it wasn’t just about fooling the team.

Maybe he was starting to fool himself too.

Spencer took a deep breath. “No,” he said softly, more to himself than to you. “We started this, we should go through with it.”

Before you could respond, he placed his hand on your lower back, feeling the warmth of your body through the thin fabric of your blouse before his palm slid over to your waist. Your eyes widened in surprise at the sudden gesture, but you didn't pull away.

What have you done?

You couldn’t believe you had actually signed the papers. The weight of the pen felt so heavy in your hand, the ink seeming to dry slower than usual as you scrawled your name on the dotted line. This was supposed to be a simple, harmless plan, but now it was documented. Official.

How did it come to this?

You watched as Spencer took the pen from you, his hand brushing yours momentarily. He glanced at you before turning his attention back to the document. The hesitation was brief, but you saw it—the flicker of doubt before he pressed the pen on to the paper and signed his name next to yours.

What the hell are we doing?

“Alright,” Hotch said, taking the papers and giving you both a nod. “This is a bit formal, but it’s necessary under bureau policy. If there are any changes in your relationship status, you should report immediately.”

You nodded, barely hearing his words over the pounding of your heart.

“Again, congratulations.”

Your stomach churned. You were going to be sick.

“Thank you,” Spencer responded. Hotch then dismissed you both, and as you turned to leave, Spencer's hand gently touched your back. You were the one who urged him to act his part, but it felt too intimate, too real at that moment. You quickly increased your pace, putting some distance between you as you walked down into the bullpen.

Penelope was sitting on your chair, chatting animatedly with the rest of the team in the open space. She looked up when you both arrived. “Well, look who’s back!” Penelope called out. “How did it go?"

You weren't surprised everyone understood what being called in, together at that, by Hotch implied.

“It went… as expected,” you replied, forcing a smile. Spencer stood a bit awkwardly beside you, his usual composure slightly ruffled.

"This is amazing,” Penelope sighed. "Oh! you know what we should do?"

You eyed her warily. "What?"

"This totally calls for a celebration!"

Your eyes widened. "Let's not—"

"Are you guys free this weekend?" Penelope turned toward the rest of the team.

Derek leaned back in his chair with a wide grin. "You know I'm always up for a party."

Spencer looked between you and the rest of the team, clearly uncomfortable. "I don't think that’s necessary—"

"He's right, Spencer isn't much of a party freak," JJ chimed in, joining in the conversation from her desk. "We should do something more relaxing."

"No, that's not what I meant—"

"You know what we haven't done in a while?" Emily asked, walking closer with a thoughtful look before she settled onto your desk, leaning slightly against it. "We haven't gone to the pool lately."

Penelope perked up at the idea. "Rossi's villa?"

Emily confirmed her with a nod. "Rossi's villa. He’s always saying we should use it more anyway.”

At any given chance, you would jump at the idea. You loved relaxing by the pool. You loved basking under the sun with a cool drink in your hand, the smell of chlorine in the air, and the refreshing splash of water on your skin. And Rossi’s pool was the perfect place for that.

It was a villa located an hour’s drive away that seemed more suited to a resort than a private residence. It was far from the city, mostly unoccupied, but always welcoming. You had been there before, stayed overnight there too, and all those fun memories were still vivid in your mind. You even recalled the time Emily was caught skinny dipping at night. Or the time Derek kicked Spencer out of the pool after realizing he had been hustling him at basketball the week before.

It had been fun then, but the more you reflected on those memories, the deeper your frown became. They had happened way before everything fell apart, before the tension had strained your friendship. It was a time when everything felt simpler, when Spencer was one of your closest friends. And now, ironically, he was your boyfriend.

Fake boyfriend.

"So it's settled, then?" Penelope’s voice broke through your thoughts, snapping you back to the present.

Honestly, you didn’t want to go. How were you even going to pull this off? A weekend by the pool, while usually the perfect highlight for your summer, now felt like walking into a scripted play where your every gesture would be scrutinized. Not just by anyone, but by skilled profilers who could sniff out a lie like a shark smells blood in the water.

The fear of being exposed, of embarrassing yourself—or worse, damaging your career—was gnawing at you. It made you increasingly anxious. Yet backing out wasn’t an option either. It would raise too many questions and invite too much speculation.

So you closed the distance between you and Spencer and linked your arm through his, ignoring the slight panic in his eyes. “Sure,” you said, turning to Penelope as you mustered a smile. “Sounds fun.”

Penelope beamed at you. Spencer, on the other hand, felt the exact opposite. The idea of spending an entire weekend pretending to be in a relationship filled him with dread.

And he couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was bound to go wrong.

[lostgirlmuseum]

Who the Hell is Daryl?

Summary: Bucky is in love with you, and finally finds the courage to tell you. But what happens when it sounds like someone else is already in the picture? (Miscommunication!)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Avenger!Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings: Miscommunication trope! Only one small mention of “Y/N”, teensy bit of yelling, let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: Wrote this a couple days ago and put it in drafts, spontaneously posted bc I'm procrastinating on an essay. Okay I'll get back to hw now :(

Dividers: @firefly-graphics

He was going to do it. He was really going to do it. 

He was finally going to ask you out.

-----

To the surprise of everyone on the team, you and Bucky had become fast pals after you joined six months ago. Something about the two of you clicked. ‘Opposites attract’ and all that, but Bucky always felt it went deeper than that.

The two of you had never argued, something he felt very proud of, considering he argued with most people. But not you. Never you.

The moment he decided that he needed to man up and ask you out wasn’t anything fancy. You were sparring with Wanda across the gym, and he was simply watching you work in tandem. He watched the entire 15 minute session, and didn’t take his eyes off you, even as you approached him. 

“Buck, I’m out of water, can I take a sip of yours?”

He nodded, “Sure, Doll,” and tossed you his bottle. 

You shot him a charming smile and opened the cap, and not-so-gracefully chugged half the bottle. You wiped your upper lip and handed it back to him. 

“Thanks, Jamie,” you breathily said, and jogged back to the arena. 

His head was completely empty except for a single thought, tumbling through his desert mind like a tumbleweed.

I’m going to marry her someday.

He shocked himself with the thought, he wasn’t sure where it had come from. But he couldn’t help the grin that snuck its way onto his lips as he realized he didn’t disagree with the thought.

Of course before marriage is dating. One step at a time Buck. 

After his realization, he had spent the next three days planning the perfect way to ask you out. He went through an entire list of ideas, but none of them seemed good enough for you. He wanted it to be perfect. But as the clock ticked on and he started running out of paper, he realized it was best to just be honest about his feelings. 

You had just gotten back from a solo mission, and Bucky was hanging out in your room as you showered.

He was blushing like an idiot and fidgeting like crazy on your bed as he waited for you to hurry up. It was surprising he had so much self control as to not blurt it out while you were showering.

“Oh, Bucky,” you called from the bathroom, the sound of the water pausing.

“What’s up?”

“Could you set an alarm on my phone for 7:30 A.M. tomorrow before I forget? I think I left it on the side table.”

“You got it, Doll.”

“You’re the best! I’m almost done, I’ll be out in like two minutes,” you called, and soon after the sound of rushing water resumed.

Bucky grabbed your phone and typed in the passcode, his heart fluttering a little as he thought about how you trusted him enough to know it.

But the flutter stopped almost as quickly as it started, the moment your phone turned on and resumed on your text string with someone. He would’ve ignored it, but a red heart at the top of the screen caught his eye.

Who the hell is “Daryl,” and why does he have a heart emoji next to his name?

Bucky couldn’t help himself as his eyes flitted over your last texts.

Daryl ❤️ I’m back in town, lemme know when you’re around 

You About to leave for a quick mission, but I’ll be back tmw evening. I miss you sm :( how about we meet up Monday morning at 8 at Bernie’s cafe?

Daryl ❤️ Lets do it. And I miss you too, can’t wait to see your beautiful face!! I love you, be careful

You Love you too, and Im always careful 😘

Bucky felt sick to his stomach. You had never mentioned a brother named Daryl, or any other kind of family member. And you’d told him about all your closest friends, and none of them were named Daryl. How did Bucky not know you had a boyfriend?

Bucky fought the urge to scroll up, and quickly tapped out of the app, and set the alarm you asked him to set. 

So you were meeting this “Daryl” tomorrow morning?

Bucky heard the water stop, and the sound of the shower curtain shuffling.

Shit. You were getting out. Fuck, he wasn’t ready to face you.

You’d never mentioned you were in a relationship before. He would remember. How long have you been dating? And more importantly, why did you keep this from him? Did you feel like you couldn’t trust him? Maybe you weren’t as close friends as he’d thought.

“Which movie did you want to watch tonight?” You asked, peeking out of the door with a turquoise towel wrapped around you.

“Um, I’m actually really tired, suddenly. I think I’m going to go to bed.” Bucky stuttered, avoiding your gaze as he quickly stood up.

“Oh, okay,” you responded, disappointment and concern lacing your voice. “Everything okay?”

“Everything is fine. Glad you got back safe. Good night.”

With that, Bucky ducked out of your room and practically ran back to his.

Bucky tossed and turned, and once he got over his embarrassment, he settled into a familiar depressive feeling. Of course you didn’t like him back. What the fuck was he thinking? He’s—well, he’s Bucky. Broken, only destined to ever be your friend. How could he be foolish enough to think you would love him like he loves you. At about hour 4, the heartbreak started turning into betrayal. Betrayal that you kept this from him. And soon enough, that betrayal festered into a kind of resentment, something he’d never felt for you before.

He didn’t get much sleep that night.

Bucky checked the clock for the 20th time in the past 5 minutes. 7:45 A.M. You were probably about to leave. Bucky felt his heart clench. He was usually up by 7, and eating breakfast in the common area by 7:30. He sat at the barstool, dragging his spoon around his now soggy Coco Puffs, waiting for you to appear. Why he felt the need to torture himself, he didn’t know.

Finally, he heard your steps coming down the hall. 

And there you appeared, wearing the most beautiful sundress he had ever seen. It was lavender, and had small white flowers adorning the skirt, and it fell just above your knees. 

Bucky took you in, and his momentary adoration turned back to his heartbreak. You were dressed up as if you were going on a date. There was no chance this wasn’t your boyfriend.

“Good morning Bucky, did you sleep okay last night?” 

“Yes.” He lied. Maybe you would tell him the truth if he asked. Yes it would hurt hearing the truth from your mouth, but he wanted to give you a chance to tell him your secret. “Where are you headed?”

“To meet a friend,” you nodded smoothly. 

Maybe Bucky was crazy. Maybe he was overthinking all of this. Maybe Daryl really was just a friend.

“Which friend?”

“Penny.”

So you were just flat out lying to him now. Bucky nodded and waited for you to leave before moping back to his room. He wanted to cry. And he did for a minute, or two, but his tears turned from sad to angry when he remembered you were now lying. You never lied to Bucky, and Bucky never lied to you. At least, he thought that was how it was. He clenched his fists, mad at you for betraying him, but more mad at himself for believing he could ever have you.

He didn’t move from his bed.

“Bucky?” Your voice emerged after three knocks to his door.

He couldn’t get himself to respond. 

The door slowly creaked open, a stream of light flooding his dark room.

“Hey Buck. You okay? You seemed a little off this morning.”

“Fine.” He mumbled, not turning over in bed to face you.

A pause. 

“Jamie, what’s wrong?” You asked, closing the door behind you and flicking on the light. 

“Don’t call me that.”

“What?” You asked, slightly taken aback. You thought he loved your affectionate nickname for him.

“I don’t want you to call me ‘Jamie’ anymore.”

“Okay…”

He felt the bed dip as you sat next to him. 

“Bucky,” you whispered, “please talk to me.”

He sat up and gave you a pointed look. Was he being immature? Yes. But what could he do, he just discovered that his best friend has been lying to him, and doesn’t love him.

“Where were you?” He asked.

You furrowed your brows a moment, trying to piece together where he was going with this. 

“I was at Bernie’s with Penny.”

“Don’t lie to me.” He sneered.

Your eyes widened at his bite.

“I’m not lying? Bucky, what is going on?”

“What’s going on is that you’ve been keeping the fact that you have a boyfriend from me. Why don’t you want to tell me?”

“A boyfriend?” You blinked. “I don’t have a boyfriend,”

“Why won’t you be honest with me?” He yelled, and you scooted back.

“I am!”

“Then who is Daryl?”

“What?”

“I saw your texts last night, when you asked me to set your alarm.” Bucky looked down at his lap, ashamed.

“Bucky,” you sighed, and a look of understanding crossed your face. A moment later you held out your phone to him.

“What?” He asked, dumbly looking at your outstretched hand. The screen was on your text string with Daryl.

“Call the number.” You simply said.

“What?” He repeated.

“Take my phone, and call the number.”

Confused and suspicious, Bucky grabbed your phone and hesitated over the call icon. 

“Go ahead,” you urged.

He pressed the button. 

Ring.

Ring.

Ri—

“Hey!” A familiar feminine voice rang through the speaker. “What’s up hon?”

“Hello?” Bucky said, looking from the phone to you to the phone.

“Uh, hi? Is that Bucky?”

“P—Penny?” He sputtered.

“Hey Bucky! What’s up, is everything okay? I thought Y/N was calling.”

“Hey Pen,” you interjected, “Everything’s fine, I’ll call you back in a bit, kay’?”

“Sure thing, bye, love ya,” Penny added, and hung up.

Bucky stared at the now blank phone, baffled.

“I don’t understand.”

“Bucky,” you sighed, and tilted his chin to look at you. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Penny is in my contacts as “Daryl” because it’s my funny little nickname for her. My Dad has had a best friend since grade school named Daryl, and they don’t see each other often, but when they do it’s like nothing has changed. They get along like no time has passed. I call Penny “my Daryl” because I know that even if we don’t talk for years, we are so close that I know we would be the exact same.”

Bucky sat quietly for a moment, simply taking in your story. He felt really stupid.

“I’m sorry,” he started, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m sorry I called you a liar.” He struggled to meet your gaze, ashamed of what he did.

“Jamie—can I call you Jamie now?”

He nodded sheepishly.

“Jamie, I forgive you. But I wish you had just talked to me about it, and asked me. We are usually so good about being open with each other. What happened?” You asked, wide eyes looking into his.

“I know, I’m sorry. I flipped out, I guess I was just shocked, because I was going to—” he licked his lips, “well, I was…”

“You can tell me, Bucky. Honesty, remember?” You soothed, placing your hand on his leg.

He gulped.

“I was going to ask you to be with me.”

You tilted your head, not quite understanding.

“Like, I was gonna ask if you’d let me be your boyfriend.” He mumbled. “So when I saw that you were texting and saying ‘I love you’ to some guy, I guess I was just blindsided.”

“James,” you smiled, moving yourself to sit on his lap. You brought your forehead against his. “You silly, jealous man.” You gently stroked his cheek with your right hand. “You want to be my boyfriend?"

"It sounds so juvenile, I don't know, I just want you to be mine, and for you to call me 'yours,'" he mumbled.

"I accept," you giggled, and watched his glittering eyes shoot to yours.

He had started to say something, but he stopped when you brought your soft lips to his.

“I'm so happy,” he whispered between kisses.

Suffice it to say, Bucky completed step one of the path to marrying you.

A/N: Tysm for reading! If you liked it, please feel free to let me know!

Also I'm sorry if the ending sucks, I wrote this in a couple hours and Idk why I'm so bad at endings gahh

Here's my Masterlist if you'd like to read more!

[pixiesfz]

microphone drop j.f x reader

plot: In which Vanessa forgets to tell Jessie she is mic’d up and all she talks about is you

warning: just fluff

Jessie was in the gym after training when Vanessa caught her.

“Jeff, Jflem, Jessatron, the Jessanator, the-“

“Hi” Jessie cut her friend off before she said random words with ‘jess’ in front of it.

“Whatchu up to?” Vanessa asked and Jessie motioned to the weights next to her “nice, hot your PB yet?”

Jessie crossed her head “no but y/n is helping me at home”

Vanessa smiled at the mention of you, she thought you were good for Jessie. You made her happy and Sinc always says she would never forget how giddy Jessie got after the first Australian friendly and you asked to swap shirts with her.

“How is y/n/n?”

Jessie blushed, “good, really good uhm did I tell you about my plan yet or-“

“No tell me, tell me now”

Even Vanessa forgot she was mic’d.

“Well after international break and before Olympics I was planning on proposing and-“ “what!” Vanessa jumped up in excitement

Jessie looked around nervously “yes?”

“This is huge Jessie” Vanessa smiled at her and she rubbed her already red cheeks “How are you going to do it?”

Jessie sat down next to Vanessa and pulled out her phone, excited to go into detail about this with someone.

“Okay so this is the ring, I saw her look at it before when we were buying a gift for her sister, it kinda gave me the whole idea in the first place but anyway” she rambled before going to her next photo of a FaceTime call with y/n’s parents as they gave a thumbs up.

“Then I got the permission from her parents but she likes to call them her rentals which I don’t get”

“Oh it’s like Australian slang there, parental figures without the ‘pa’” Vanessa explained and Jessie’s eyes widened as she finally got it “How do you know that?”

“Ellie”.

Jessie nodded before swiping to the next picture of confirmed plane tickets to Australia, your homeland “she thinks we’re going on a spontaneous trip to see her family, which we are but I’m also going to propose to her there” she explained and Vanessa swore she had never seen her captain so happy.

“And then I bought her this dress she always said she wanted but she said it was too cold to wear in London so I got it so she could wear it in Australia” Jessie said, swiping to the next picture as Vanessa realised Jessie had made an album dedicated to the planning of the big event.

“You going to do a speech”

“I want to try, I wrote one but I’m not that great at remembering lines” Jessie said, scratching behind her ear “that’s fine you’re good at thinking on the spot and also knowing y/n she will be saying yes even before your knee hits the ground”

Jessie smiled “I only plan on doing the ‘proposal’ thing once so I want it to be perfect for her”

Vanessa slapped her friend in the shoulder supportively “I’m sure y/n will think it’s perfect no matter what”.

It wasn’t until later when Jessie had finished spotting Vanessa on chest pressed and the social media came over asking for the mic was when her face paled over.

“You were mic’d the entire time?” She asked, her cheeks red as panic now evident on her face.

“Did I forget to tell you?” Vanessa asked as she thought back to their conversation.

“You know you cannot use any of that”.

[nicromancytarot]

LOSING YOUR VIRGINITY, HOW WILL IT BE? 18+

This is a general reading based on a collective of people. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. If you don’t feel the pile resonates with you, don’t be scared to try another, if it still doesn’t feel right, that’s ok! Maybe our energies aren’t as connected and my readings are not for you.

I do these strictly for fun and educational purposes. I do not charge for these readings, and I do not fake readings. I would tell you the cards I get for the readings, but I pull like 20-30 cards each reading and that is just slightly a strenuous task to write them all down lmao.

PICK A CARD READING

I asked my spirit guides what your first time ever having sex is going to be like, pick a picture and find out what they have to say!

PILE 1

THE SEX

You may find that your first time having sex with your person will be performed as you giving rather than them for the start, as like foreplay, you might begin with giving your person some light touches or possibly some head. The person that you sleep with for your first time is going to really enjoy your butt, they may like how it looks from behind, or they just enjoy being able to touch it. The sex itself will be steady and will take its time, you’ll be spending at least a few hours on this session, You may play the more masculine and responsible role for this time. You may feel as though you need a minute either between sessions or after you’re done entirely, you could want to spend some time alone to recalculate and think about the sex, or you could just be really tired afterwards.

If you’re with someone who has a penis, then I do feel like handy’s will be a common thing happening during your first time, that could be how you start the session, or even how you end it, they also might need a little more time to get it up, or perhaps you need some time to get aroused. You may find that this person is a tad selfish when it comes to sex, possibly not entertaining all of your needs, it is important that you tell them if you are not happy or ok with something.

You could be friends with the person that you are sleeping with, this situation could appear as a friendly hookup for the sake of losing it in time for college for example, or just getting with a crush, I don’t see much romantic commitment for this group.

You may feel as though this situation posed itself as random or spontaneous, it doesn’t seem that you at all planned for this to happen, and due to this you are feeling indecisive on how far you wish for the situation to go, however it does seem like it goes pretty far lol. A hookup doesn’t seem like something you’d have wanted, or intended to happen, but I think you’ll surprise yourself.

AFTERWARDS

You’ll feel very powerful in the fact that you took charge during this situation, maybe even free and reborn as it wasn’t a planned thing. You may feel as though you love your body more, and appreciate your physical abilities more than you did before having sex. Some of you could find yourself wanting to deepen the connection between you and this person, friend to crush, or crush to relationship. You could become more in tune with yourself sexually, and possibly even more willing to try different things, this random situation popping up and you going along with it will feel very freeing and comfortable, like you are discovering more about your wants and needs when it comes to sex and intimacy. This could also get rid of any commitment issues you had prior to this day/night.

PILE 2

THE SEX

The person that you have sex with may have been eyeing you up for a while, it could be someone that has had a crush on you, or possibly even someone that you have a crush on, either way there is an amount of pining, mutual or not. The sex itself could be very unexpected and maybe even a tad indecisive or rebellious, this could be with someone you shouldn’t have sex with. You may both know what you want sexually immediately after it begins, they could even possibly tell you, or you tell them exactly what you intend on happening during this session. If they have a penis, you may have to hold it with two hands rather than one, it could be quite large or even thick, honestly could hurt a fair amount when you guys sleep together.

There is a lack of stability in this connection during this time with each other, you may feel as though it’s random, quick, unexpected or even stupid, like it’s a bad idea but you just can’t help yourself. They could buy you something, like a necklace or some other jewellery to try and sweet talk you, this could be a connection that goes on before the sex rather than a meaningless hookup. The person that you sleep with thinks that you are very beautiful, specifically your chest area, they may like to see your breasts or touch them often, they could even put you into positions that will ensure your chest is exposed to them, like missionary for example.

You may know what you want before you sleep with this person, some of you could be hypersexual and know exactly what you desire when it comes to sex. They may offer you a relationship after the sex, or possibly even ask if you want to go on a date with them another time, I’m not too sure if you’ll feel much else for them besides sexual attraction. You could try out lots of things, whether that’s positions or even actions.

AFTERWARDS

Possible disappointment when it comes to afterwards, you may have not finished and they could’ve, which makes you feel as though your time was wasted. This time could make you feel less attraction towards this person once you’re done having sex with them. This person could even be an ex or someone you had prior feelings for but now you feel nothing, as if the sex was a tad too disappointing to entertain them for anymore after the sex. It may not even relate to the physical feeling of your sexual encounter, but rather the emotional aspect, perhaps you had a situation where there was nothing more than sexual attraction, so that intimacy was missing during your time together and it makes you feel like something is lacking.

PILE 3

THE SEX

Much like pile one, you guys are also starting off with some foreplay including head, you may spend a fair amount of time giving your person head, paying attention to their needs before focusing on your own. I got the word “puke” so you may need to work on your gag reflex to ensure you don’t throw up or end up feeling sick during this time, also try not to push yourself too hard and take your time.

I feel like you guys are in a relationship when having sexual contact with this person, your relationship is based around a healthy friendship, either you guy are like friends who date, or you may have started out as friends before beginning to date. Your person wants you to focus on your stability first, they may show you that they can look after you by doing something for you, you will feel as though they appreciate your body but don’t ONLY appreciate you for your body, this way they will ensure that you feel comfortable knowing that their attraction for you extends past sexual.

You may feel like this sex offers you everything you want, like it cements your relationship and commitment to each other. The sex could help you feel more in touch with your feminine energy, you may get to lay back and allow the other person to take charge after you’ve done your bit of foreplay.

You could be on top, but they will control the pace for you.

Like I said before, this connection is built off of stability, so you will feel very loved, safe and protected during this time together.

AFTERWARDS

You guys may have spent a while with each other having sex, so you could be very tired after, and may need a fair amount of time to recharge. You’ll feel very progressed and improved after having sex with your person, as if you know where you are going with your connection, and like your commitment has reached a new level of comfort, this may even help you a lot with some past, uncomfortable sexual experiences that you may have had. I feel like this will almost rewrite past events and help you heal from them, if you were slut-shamed for stuff in the past, you may feel a fair amount of guilt for having sex, however this experience could help you with this issue or possible insecurity.

[admirxation]

Marriage is just a piece of paper ~ Leon Kennedy oneshot

father-in-law!leon kennedy x daughter-in-law!afab!reader

summary - Leon has had his eyes on you ever since his son introduced you to him, and after the honeymoon he decides he won’t let your union come in the way of what he wants.

cw - this fic contains pseudo-incest and heavy smut; actions in this fic are not condoned; I do not condone everything I write; this is just fiction where real people cannot get hurt, continue at your own discretion // 18+ heavy smut (mdni), description of disappointing sex with partner, pseudo-incest, injury, slight hurt/comfort, touching, tit play, unprotected sex (p in v), back scratching, dirty talk, and coming inside. (word count: 2.4k)

Honeymoon. A period of harmony following marriage. The word is known and experienced by many, whether it is a short getaway, a dream vacation, everyone has the notion that the honeymoon entails a dream like state of beauty. You, like many others, dreamt of sharing a honeymoon with a lover for so long, expecting it to be one of the best moment of your life, next to the actual marriage ceremony. After all, it’s in the name with the connotations it provides. Honey implies sweetness, and the moon casts an imagery of beauty and romance.

But expectations tend not to be fulfilled.

You and your partner had everything planned: going to your dream destination, it was a smooth journey, didn’t forget anything, surrounded by wonderful people, culture, many things to do and plenty of time to complete them and rest… But those weeks were the worst weeks of your whole relationship.

The first night was okay, nothing exciting. You got to your place and had some spontaneous sex, but it didn’t quite hit the spot, you felt like you had to perform every moan, every whine, and every movement — but you just ignored that, thinking you were just tired from all the travelling. Then, you tried a second time, you felt zoned out and faked another orgasm, it wasn’t one of your proudest moments. The third time, you two just stopped in the middle of everything because neither of you “felt it”, cleaning yourselves up and rolling over to go to sleep. You two were newly weds, but it felt like being trapped in a loveless marriage of 30 years.

The sex just stopped altogether on that journey. You did most things separately, him going on retreats and you staying at the beach; the only times you were together was just before bed watching whatever show the hotel allowed on and dinner time. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be, but communication was a terrifying thing.

You two came back and were greeted with your house needing to have some renervations to be completed; you were lucky your partners father, Mr. Kennedy opened his home to you with no questions asked.

Mr. Kennedy was always lovely to you. You were terrified of meeting your partners father, but the moment you saw him all those fears melted away; he accepted you, supported and never made you feel unwelcome, he would even allow you to call him by his first name but you always felt uneasy and disrespectful.

You were now in a sea of thoughts about the honeymoon, analysing every moment and every bit of shared speech — but there was little speech to be focused on. Standing in the kitchen in a silky night dress that came to the midway of your thighs, distracting yourself with the coldest glass of water, the wet surrounding the glassy outlayer dampening your fingers as you stared out into the garden, surrounded by nothing but darkness and street lamps.

You were a wife. It was difficult to let that settle in, especially when the happiness of that wasn’t even short lived, it was non existent. It seemed like god was playing a cruel joke on you, punishing you for maybe picking the wrong person, or not trying hard enough. Whatever it was, you wanted it to stop.

As you kicked your head back to finish the last drops, feeling the cold wave pass down your throat you turned around to put the glass away, startled at your sight of Mr. Kennedy standing in the doorway.

Smash.

The sound of glass hitting the tiled floor filled the room, leaving you to hurriedly trying to pick everything up in a panic, Mr. Kennedy coming to your aid.

“I-I’m so sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to, you know I wouldn’t do this on purp… Ahh!” you felt a piece of sharp glass slide against your gentle and soft skin of your index finger, automatically shoving the tip of your finger into your mouth, feeling the metallic thick taste of blood coat your tastebuds.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay dear, go sit down I’ll clean this up,” you hesitated at first just followed suit with sitting at the dinning room table just a few steps away from him; guilt eating at you as you heard the clatter of glass as he swept it all up.

The moment all the glass was swept away and collected in the bin, he came over to you with those kind eyes, motioning with his hands to come take a look at your finger.

“Ooo, seems like a nasty cut,” he said with sympathy, reaching out to a box in the middle of the table and grabbing a band aid, before gently wrapping it around your finger, gently shushing you as you winced in pain.

“Thank you, Mr. Kennedy,” you smiled.

“You know it’s okay to call me Leon sweetheart,” you quickly apologised and rephrased your previous statement with the replacement of his last to his first name, “Why are you here, shouldn’t you be asleep, it’s quite late.”

“I could say the same thing to you… Leon.”

“Stop avoiding the question. What’s wrong? My son hasn’t hurt you has he?” a streak of protectiveness was shown.

“No. No. He’s been wonderful. Just… Just kinda getting used to the whole… being a wife thing,” the tone of your voice dropped in the last few words, you still couldn’t comprehend that you were a wife, especially with the lack of opportunity to feel like one.

“Trouble in paradise? You shouldn’t be having those thoughts, it’s too early for that.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“The honeymoon wasn’t exactly a honeymoon. We barely spent time together.” you felt him look at you differently, just then, feeling like his gaze was never going to sway and feeling like it was glued to your form, “anyways… thank you for helping me, I best get some sleep.”

As you were walking to your room, you were stopped with a rough hand grab your wrist. You never experienced this before with him. He never touched you like this; the only times he touched you was to hug you.

“Why don’t you stay… I could keep you company… Besides I can’t sleep anyways, I’m sure my son wouldn’t appreciate being awoken to you coming back to bed,” there was a small moment of feeling alarmed, just then, but that was easily and quickly diluted to how much trust you had in him.

You sat back down in your seat, feeling his gaze get stronger as the thin strap of your nightdress elegantly fell to the side; you didn’t think much of it and went to put it back in place, but Leon bet you to it. He leaned in and let his fingers tuck onto the band, placing it back on your shoulder and letting it linger there for a few moments before gliding down the soft skin of your arm — all you could do was blush at how close he was, and how touchy he was starting to become.

You should have turned him down right then; but you would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t like him taking the freedom to get closer to you. All you could do was let out a soft giggle to ease the tension of unspoken words and exchanging glances between you two.

“I don’t know why he didn’t spend that much time with you. I wouldn’t leave your side,” your blush was getting intense, feeling how warm your face was and how your body was beginning to tremble with slight tremors due to his gaze.

“Thank you… I appreciate that… But I guess that’s what I have to get used to… besides married couples do tend to spent more time apart… or so I’ve heard.”

“Yes many do,” he took the invitation to have his hand place on your exposed thigh, roaming it up and down and slightly lifting your silky dress, so close it exposed your lack of underwear; Leon looked at your cunt with hunger as he felt his cock grow with looks and fantasies building from just imagining to fill that pretty pussy of yours, to give you everything he wanted to over the years. You sat there for a moment, wanting him to just take you, to smash your body against the table and feel him fuck you hard — but you were a wife.

You slowly pulled down the hem of your dress, looking away and not wanting to greet that blue eyed gaze that was already undressing you with suggesting staring.

“You know, the couples that do stray away from one another do it for a reason,” his hand ventured further and you could feel his fingers just hoovering around your pulsating heat, “sometimes that distance helps people find the one they need. It starts with just one night, then another, and then they find the right person.”

He wanted you. God he fucking needed to feel you, to hold you, to hear you, he wanted that for years and now he was taking the chance.

“… I’m not a bad person… This is wrong,” morality and sexual wanting was fighting in your brain, you needed a sweet release but knew betraying your husband was despicable, how would you feel if he laid with another ?

“You can’t deny that you want me… Is it so bad to indulge in a natural instinct, after all marriage for love is a new conception… The human body knows what it wants,” his voice was thick and smooth like honey, it enticed you with temptation running its course through each and every word and action Leon gave to you.

“And we live in a world where the conception is practiced. I married your son… I made vows that man, I signed the papers,” you tried to argue.

“Marriage is just a piece of paper, sweetheart… And right now, you can’t deny we both want to rip that paper up as much as I want to rip that dress from off of you,” he was leaning even closer.

“Will you… Will you keep it a secret?” if you were going to indulge in immorality you needed to cover your tracks.

“I’ll keep it a secret. I won’t tell anything you don’t say first. Now let me see if my fantasies come close to reality.”

Just then you felt a heat pool in every corner inside your body, feeling that urge and letting it make you lunge right into his arms, and letting him kiss you has hard as he wanted, feeling your lips collide with each interlock as your tongues glided against one another’s as he roamed his hands along your body as if he was your actual husband. You quietly moaned as his grabbed the fat of your ass, leaving an imprint of his hand the harder he squeezed it.

“Mmm,” you moaned continuously within that deepening kiss that made your core get hotter and needier, you felt Leon grow against you as he finally pulled the straps of your dress and tugged the material harshly, leaving the straps to snap off, and leaving you fully exposed under his scrutiny and the cold bite of the air surrounding you both.

“Fuck. You look even better than I imagined,” he cooed in your ear as he let his large and calloused hand grab your prominent breast, making you yelp at his touch, having him grab harder and with purpose the more he kissed you, and left bites on your lower lip.

“Oh god,” you groaned as you tossed your head back the moment he let his thumb and index finger trap your pebbled nipple and pinch it, rolling the bud along his fingers as he left you panting. “L-Leon,” you let out a whispered hush, just before he pushed his lower half into you and made you collapse on the table, leaving you to sit and wait for his next move.

You watched as he stripped himself and exposed his strong phsique, getting you even wetter as he frayed his hands by his waist and pulled down his pants, exposing his large and erect member that was tinted with a blush of red and wet with precum, waiting to come inside your entrance. You bit your lip as he started to stroke along the shaft, pumping himself before meeting the tip of his cock in your wet folds; you whimpered with just his slight touch, you wanted needed him. You felt yourself grow more impatient the more he slid along the folds that left a slick on his cock, leaving him to play at smirk at the corner of his lips to himself.

He finally had you.

“Do you want me?” he whispered in your ear.

“Of course I do.”

“You would have made a great wife for me,” he uttered as he slowly pressed his length inside you, releasing a laboured and long breath as he felt your wet walls surround him, feeling you clasp around him and beg to make you his. “Fuck, you feel amazing,” he hissed.

You let your body go and feel every single thrust Leon pumped into you, hearing his gutteral groans and dirty whispers in your ear everytime he pushed his large, throbbing cock inside and hit that perfect spot just right. You press your mouth against his shoulder, trying so hard not to let out your moans and wake your real husband up.

“God, all I want is to hear that pretty mouth scream my name,” he uttered.

“He’s g-gone tomorrow.”

He raised an eyebrow out of interest: “Oh, I thought this was a one time thing,” he slowly released as he continued to thrust himself in your aching pussy, his fingers pressed into your hips as he forced himself inside.

“I need you so much more.”

You saw a glimmer cross his blue eyes, a darkening clouding his vision just before he smashed his lips against yours, groaning into your mouth as he rocks his hips back and forth, picking up the pace to fuck that pretty pussy of yours.

He thumbs your puffy clit as he continues to fuck and drill into your cunt, jabbing that sweet spot over and over again.

“I want you to cum on me, I want to see your face as you do it,” he moans as he continues to maintain the pace with bucking his hips forward and circling your sensitive bud, making your breathing depending and elongating every time he messes with you.

You reach your peak with his masterful movements, letting out pants as you cover his cock with your release; shuddering, you not long after feel his nails dig into your back, lightly scratching and making you wince, as he releases streams of hot cum inside you, making your eyes roll back to your head as you feel him pump his seed further into you and make you his.

“You’re mine now, sweetheart.”

a/n: when i posted this on my wips post (in pinned post) i saw excitement to the father in law leon so i just had to post it. i will say ik it’s a little rushed but i wanted to get it out a bit quicker, i might also write some more father in law stuff, we’ll see. i hope you lot like this and all engagement is appreciated *kiss kiss*

[stsgluver]

𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐓.𝟓 — gojo satoru

synopsis. there's nothing more romantic than travelling halfway across the world for the girl you love... even if it is two years late.

wc. 3.4k

tags. none really, yn is described as shorter than megumi, possible ooc for EVERYONE, lowkey forgot how to write halfway through, possible spelling mistakes and plotholes (pls still like my writing i beg)

a/n. im sorry i never really got round to answering the comments on the last post but i have added everyone to the taglist who asked. so i did write two endings but one was bad SO i stuck to this one only <3 i hope this is the right end to the series and thank you sm for the support over the last few months!! i will have a 'spin-off-ish' series focused on the students making the videos in the first place which i will add the link to on this chapter once it's up. this is for @ilovejugs69 ly pookie

previous part / series masterlist

“this is such a bad plan.” 

megumi let out a small sigh, resting his head back on the leather of the plane’s seat. an economy seat – much to gojo’s dismay – but there hadn’t been much time to consider other options, bar gojo buying himself a personal private jet and hiring a pilot all in the space of less than an hour. 

the dark-haired student clutched the arm rests as he felt his stomach churn in knots as the reality of their decision sunk in. it was a very last minute and muddled plan but gojo was desperate to see you again and megumi wanted nothing more than to have his family back – so when gojo offered to take them both to the other side of the world to find you, he agreed a little too quickly. spontaneity was not his thing and with each passing second he was remembering why.

gojo shuffled himself back in his seat, nose scrunching up in annoyance as he struggled with the small gap for his longer-than-average legs. if his height wasn’t drawing the pair any attention (which it certainly was), the uniforms and the sorcerer’s blindfold definitely were. he didn’t need his six eyes to feel the stares of strangers. 

“i’ve never had a bad plan in my life.” 

megumi scoffed at the declaration, rolling his eyes at the white haired sorcerer’s misplaced confidence. like it wasn’t gojo’s idea to send megumi on that mission alone that ultimately resulted in yuuji swallowing sukuna’s finger or his idea to prank nanami on his birthday that got both himself and the first years all detention. 

“don’t roll your eyes at me, young man,” gojo lightly swatted megumi’s arm, wiggling one of his fingers in front of the younger boy’s face. “your mother will think i’m a shit dad and won’t come back.” megumi ignored the tightening in his chest at the casualness of gojo’s words.

“you are a shit dad,” he retorted, closing his eyes and willing the next seven hours to go by faster than they were. he didn’t hate flying, but he wasn’t the biggest fan, and the nerves that were building up alongside the nonstop chatter from the man beside him were definitely not helping.

gojo gasped and megumi felt him jostling in the seat next to him, he could only imagine the dramatics his teacher was pulling in public. it was best he kept his eyes closed. 

“that wasn’t very nice. god, teenagers and their angst these days.” 

megumi heard gojo mumbling loudly under his breath and there was no doubt in his mind that there was a cheshire grin on gojo’s face, daring him to take the bait and bicker like the mature adult he was. 

however annoying he may have found him, megumi knew that gojo was just as nervous as he was. the two, however, were just polar opposites in all aspects. so while megumi just wanted to spend the next few hours trying to sleep and hope he’d have the courage to face you when he woke up, gojo wanted to play avoidance by teasing him as if they weren’t travelling halfway across the world for you.

when megumi didn’t respond, to gojo’s disappointment, a silence settled between the two. with his hands now stuffed in the pockets of his uniform and head almost on gojo’s shoulder, the dark haired sorcerer attempted to finally fall asleep.

“do you think she’s mad at me?” megumi asked quietly after about five minutes. 

gojo hummed thoughtfully, looking down at the teenager almost asleep on his shoulder. “she has no reason to be mad at you,” he said in the most reassuring tone he could muster.

“she’s never messaged me back,” megumi countered.

“at least yours still go through.” gojo huffed lightly, an attempt at brightening megumi’s mood at the expense of himself but it only left both more unsettled at their predicament. he knocked his knee into the younger boy’s gently. “get some sleep, this is going to be a long flight.”

“if you just take a seat here, i will go see if ma’am is available. it’s so lovely to meet her family finally.” a woman dressed in formal attire gestured towards a small lobby waiting room with a bright smile. 

there was no one else in there apart from one middle-aged guy with a briefcase, newspaper in hand. gojo thanked the woman, hand on megumi’s shoulder as he led him into the back corner of the white minimalist room.

the sun had set by the time they’d landed and found your office building – something that gojo had forced shoko to send him. he hadn’t even had a chance to tell her what they were doing before he’d gotten on the plane so after she had a go at him for leaving her out of the loop and not bringing her too, she sent across the necessary details with demands for regular updates. 

“i bet she’s going to call security,” megumi sighed as he dropped himself down into the black leather seat, resting his head back against the wall behind him. between school and the plane journey, he’d been awake for nearly twenty hours and the stiff seat he was on felt like a pile of feathers. he was going to fall asleep before he’d even had the chance to see you.

gojo crossed one leg over the other, hands crossed behind his head. the teenager wanted to elbow him for his calm posture – he could have as well, he’d dropped his infinity the second the two had entered the building. the second the older sorcerer had stepped into the building he knew you were here, recognising the cursed energy that brought him a familiar comfort he’d missed. “why would she?”

megumi snapped his head in his direction, eyes opening to give him an incredulous look, “why would you say you’re her husband?” 

gojo waved a hand dismissively, “i basically am–”

“was. several years ago.” megumi countered and gojo’s mouth dropped open at the audacity of his pupil to point out the obvious facts.

rolling up the sleeves of his jacket, gojo began to stand up and megumi was close to cracking a smile at his behaviour. the delirium of not sleeping was beginning to sink in. “okay, kid–”

“you’re here.”

gojo’s sleeves dropped just as fast as megumi stood up from his seat, both more alert than they had been all day. suddenly, the uneasy feeling megumi had had on the plane didn’t seem so bad, this was so much worse.

you’d barely changed since you’d left, bar your hair being a few inches longer. if the two looked closely enough at you, they’d realise you were just as wrecked with nerves as they were as you struggled to stop your hands from shaking.

when the receptionist had first come up to tell you that your husband and son were here to see you, your initial reaction had been to say she’d made a mistake… until the cryptic message shoko had sent you thirty minutes earlier started to make a lot more sense. 

she was the only one you’d maintained regular contact with after you’d left. initially you had gone on a complete no contact with everyone, refusing to even acknowledge that you had a life and a family in japan. you were scared and you’d chosen the coward's way out by running. it felt wrong to still have strings binding you to a life that was no longer yours.

but you missed her and you worried constantly about gojo and megumi, so you’d slowly built up messaging her once a month to every few days just to know everyone was still alive.

you had desperately wanted to take megumi with you but you didn’t have it in you take him away from his sister and, despite how you’d laid into him about how even he had limitations, you knew megumi was safer with gojo than you. in america, you were vulnerable to curse users and curses alike without the protection of any other sorcerers or specialist schools to help you.

the three of you probably looked like idiots to the other man in the room, all staring at each other too afraid to make the first room. it felt surreal to all be together again. you were afraid your longing to see them again had reached a point of insanity, and they were afraid of spooking you if they got too close too quickly.

megumi was the first one to make a move, stepping around the rows of seats and the centre coffee table till he stood a metre from you. “hi.”

your hand covered your mouth as you had to tilt your head up slightly to keep eye contact with the boy you’d raised since he was only a fraction of your height. you may not have changed but megumi had – both his height and voice – and the guilt of leaving him behind was overwhelming.

“oh my god, you’re so much taller than me.” you moved closer to him to gently grab ahold of his arms as you took in how much he had grown. there wasn’t a day that had gone by that you didn’t regret and feel guilt for leaving megumi and you only hoped he understood why you left him so suddenly. taking a step back, you gestured to his uniform, “what’s jujutsu high like?”

the words were bittersweet. what had leaving achieved apart from heartache? megumi was still a jujutsu student and gojo was still japan’s lifeline. maybe you would live a longer life in america, but was the life you had now worth the one you’d left behind?

“it’s…” megumi hesitated before clearing his throat, “it’s okay. there’s two other first years, yuuji and nobara. they’re alright.” you smiled at his words, flashbacks of your own childhood crossing your mind as you remembered the innocence of your first year. it was fun being in a class with two prodigies, you were mini celebrities in a world of rich and powerful sorcerers.

“i’m glad you’ve made some friends, megs,” the nickname rolled off your tongue too naturally and if megumi closed his eyes, maybe he could pretend that you were all still in japan and you were just catching up after being away on a prolonged mission. you glanced to the other sorcerer in the room who had remained silent up until this point – although he had silently made his way over. “i’m going to go speak with satoru in my office and then can i take you out for dinner? to talk properly?”

megumi nodded a little too eagerly, “yeah, please. i’ll just wait here.”

“perfect. satoru?” the acknowledgement was all the strongest sorcerer needed to be following behind you, keeping a distance of several paces as you led him inside your office.

gojo rested his forearm against one of the large ceiling height windows in your office that overlooked the city. you had to be at least twenty stories up and the blaring of car horns was simply a hum, vehicles appearing as mini red and yellow dots on the busy roads below.

“nice view.” 

it was the first words he’d uttered in your presence and despite him being the one to initiate the venture to you, he had no idea what to say. this was likely his only chance to convince you to come back and he may have already screwed up by waiting as long as he had.

“what are you doing here?” you asked as you pushed your door shut, leaving the two of you in the privacy of your small office. it was nothing special; a chair, a desk with paperwork piling up and no photos whatsoever. there was no trace that you even existed beyond these four walls.

“don’t i at least get an ‘i miss you’? i just travelled over ten hours for you,” he said lightly, trying to ease the tension in the room but your voice was no longer as soft as it was when you spoke with megumi. the teenager had done nothing wrong – he was part of the reason you left.

“it’s been two years.” he didn’t have to turn around to know that your arms were probably crossed in front of your chest, your head tilted to the side as you waited for him to explain himself. except he thinks his past offences of stealing all of the sweets before halloween were a little more forgivable than letting you leave.

his hand turned to a fist as he dropped it from the window, turning around to look at you properly. “i know.”

both of you stared at one another, neither of you speaking as you took the other in.

“you chose them over me,” you accused. them being both the higher-ups and the whole of jujutsu itself. you’d given him a chance to have a normal life – a natural life in which you’d grow old together and die of old age – and he’d chosen the short life where he’d likely die before he turned thirty.

“you knew what you were signing up for,” he said and there was no malice behind the words though they still frustrated you. he was right to an extent, he’d sat you down after you’d finished school, just before he’d taken in megumi and given you an out. you chose to stay, fully believing that the two of you had already gone through your worst.

“i didn’t realise i’d always be on the losing side.”

“we weren’t always losing–”

you stepped closer to gojo as you held out your hand, counting each disaster after the other with your fingers, “haibara died, we almost died, geto defected, we took in megumi and the tensions between your clan and the zen’ins got ten times worse. you said you wanted to change jujutsu society and what had we done? i never knew if you’d come home to me after missions, it made me feel sick.”

“how do you think i felt coming home to a note?” you could count on your hands the amount of times you had seen gojo angry – and while he wasn’t all the way there he was teetering on the edge as he frustratedly lifted off his blindfold, throwing it onto your desk. in the same way you’d been desperate for him to hear what you were saying before you’d left, he was equally as desperate for you to hear him now. to see that he was here. “megumi? at least geto left for a purpose, you just left.”

it was an unfair dig – geto had committed mass murder, after all – but similar to the one that you’d pulled on him two years ago.

you clicked your tongue as you tried not to make it obvious how badly that made you want to cry, holding your hands up in surrender. “was it so wrong to want a life where i didn’t go to work thinking i would die? to want a future?”

“you were my future.” he sounded sad as he uttered them, and it looked foreign to see the gojo satoru look so dejected. there were only inches between the two of you now and despite the fact he towered over you, he appeared so small as he continued, “was i ever yours?”

memories of your late teenage years and early adulthood play out as a montage: from your first meeting when you’d both gotten lost on the train to school, to the tears you spilled as you finished writing your note and closed the door to his apartment for the last time. 

“of course you were.” your voice was shaky, no longer holding any bite. until the day you’d left, since you were sixteen, you’d never envisioned a life without him.

gojo’s hand reached out to push your hair back from your neck, the little white scars still tarnishing your flawless skin. it was taking all of your resolve to not collapse into his arms and have him hold you like you knew he would. you were sure you’d believe him this time if he told you he could protect everyone, that he was in fact able to be in six places at once and still come out on top. “come back with us please.”

“satoru…” you dragged off, looking away as you fought between listening to your rationale that reminded you that nothing had really changed and your heart that missed being in love.

“just come back,” he repeated, “are you going to tell me you’ve found someone else? that you enjoy your life here?” it was wrong and selfish, he knew it, to be convincing you the way he was – to even be here full stop – but he missed you and he wasn’t ready to let you walk away again.

“i can’t lose you.” hesitantly you pressed your hands to his chest. for a second he was scared you were going to push him away, but you didn’t, fingers tightening around the material of his uniform.

“don’t be silly and travel halfway across the country then.” his voice was just above a whisper now as he brushed his nose against yours. “hey, look at me properly.”

you complied without any hesitation – you always did when it came to him. two years of no contact but your body still reacted on muscle memory to the sound of his voice. never in your life had you ever seen eyes like his, of course you hadn’t, and you were still taken aback by the full blue colour as he gazed down at you.

“tell me you don’t want me to kiss you.” you did want him to. “tell me you want me to walk out of this room and not turn back and i’ll do it.” he wouldn’t have left without you.

“i missed you,” you whispered, and that was all he needed to duck his head down to let your lips meet. gojo’s hand slipped round to the back of your neck, tugging you impossibly closer as his tongue swiped across your bottom lip. you missed this, you missed him, and you were going to find it impossible to let go of him again.

only when your lungs ached to breathe did you force yourself to pull back from your ex boyfriend. gojo’s eyes were still focused on your lips and you didn’t doubt that if it were up to him, he’d be leaning to kiss you again. it was only the light push against his chest that held him back.

“what are we doing?” you asked, voice wavering from both the kiss and nerves. whilst there was no doubt in your mind that gojo was who you wanted, you had many reservations about reentering jujutsu society.

“about to ditch this place and go back to japan on a plane. all three of us.”

you brows furrowed together, “but–”

gojo held a finger up your lips, his other hand slipping into his back pocket, pulling out three plane tickets. “i already got your ticket, you don’t want it to go to waste do you?”

you lightly hit his arm and smiled up at him. he was grinning now and it didn’t need to be said aloud – he was yours again (though he’d never really stopped being such) and you were coming home. “that confident?”

“surprised you were able to resist me this long.” he pecked your cheek this time, a hint of tease in his tone like he hadn’t needed megumi to convince him to even enter your office building in the first place.

you let his joke slide with no rebuttal. “are you coming to dinner?” you hoped you hadn’t been keeping megumi too long.

“do you want me at dinner?” gojo asked.

you reached across to your desk to grab ahold of his blindfold and passed it to him. as much as you loved being able to see his eyes, you’d rather not be spending your first twenty four hours with him in bed complaining about a splitting headache. “i’m sure megs won’t mind. plus you can pay,” you added with a wink.

gojo raised an eyebrow, lips tugging up at the corners into a slight smirk, “oh so that’s the real reason why you missed me?”

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super sorry if ive missed anyone!

[starrynights-sunnyskies]

mine to protect ⋆*·ﾟmisaxfemreader

the night you thought would be a lighthearted, fun time with some of misa's friends, ends with a different kind of bang you had originally anticipated. but when things go awry, you can always expect your girlfriend to be there.

(or; the mentioned club incident from mine to save)

tw: intimidation and harassment by a drunken fool. dw, sweet ending.

It was meant to be nothing more than a fun night out with friends now that most of them were in the area. It had been a spontaneous text by Jenni that had spurred the entire thing. The group had never been that good at planning things far in advance, with schedules changing and always full, but it seemed that most girls had at least a few hours to spare this Saturday night. And, well, while Misa’d had the day off entirely, she’d also mentally written your name in all caps in her agenda for this weekend as soon as she heard you’d be coming to see her. She hadn’t even realised the group chat had exploded until grabbing her phone to snap a picture of the two of you all cuddled up, something to add to her folder with pictures to cheer her up whenever you two were apart. It took her quite some scrolling to catch up, and when she saw the text that had initiated it all, she caught herself feeling a little indifferent. On one hand, she would love nothing more than to spend some time with her friends. On the other, she’d see most of them again soon during national camp. Plus, there was never enough time to spend with you. Sure, there were quick days in between matches you’d play near the other, but entire days spent together without worrying about the time were scarce. It was exactly why she’d been able to lose track of time for as long as she had, having you wrapped against her in her arms was far too valuable to her. You squirmed against her front, having lost your comfortable position as soon as Misa had shifted to reach for her phone. 

With the curtains closed and the lights dimmed, Misa had turned her apartment into a cozy little bubble after the dinner you had made together. It was as if you were the only two people on earth. But that wasn’t a foreign feeling whenever Misa was around. Quite the contrary— you often suffered from severe tunnel vision whenever she was near. Even when she wasn’t in your direct line of sight, your heart would still quicken and there’d be an extra pep in your step and a shine to your eyes. Like a fool in love, you would perk up whenever she walked in, sought your eyes and sent you the most heartwarming grin. That grin of hers, whether the cheeky one or the adorable kind, had been one of the things that had instantly given her some of your heart. The two of you hadn’t even been properly introduced yet, she’d only acknowledged your presence for the time being with that damned grin, and you had felt your pulse quicken and your cheeks flush nonetheless. And then the nerves! She’d made you feel so nervous and giddy like some silly school girl whose crush finally decided to look her way. You’d felt pathetic when thinking about the encounter for the longest time until Misa had admitted to you that she’d put off introducing herself to you that day for so long, simply because she had been too nervous herself. It left you feeling a little alienated, knowing that you had been the one to leave your usual self-assured girlfriend feeling so insecure. Then you felt a little smug because of the exact same reason. Only you could make Misa feel that way, and that knowledge left you feeling euphoric.

A whine escaped your mouth as your back softly slid from Misa’s front to the back of the couch, watching as your girlfriend leaned sideways to type away on her phone that was still plugged in to charge. 

Misa side-eyed you, and although she tried to hide it, you saw the tiny smirk wanting to pull at the corners of her lips. She quickly bit her lip before she could be caught red-handed, planted a kiss on your temple and pulled you against her again. Her fingers absentmindedly snaked underneath the sweatshirt you were wearing, one of hers, and softly brushed the skin of your waist. She typed away again.

“I think I like you better with both your hands on my waist.” You mumbled against her neck, feeling her muscles there tighten, signalling she was probably smirking again. Or still. 

“Hm?” Misa quickly locked her phone, “Like so?” She turned to you, the arm around you pulling you back onto her lap, the hand on your waist snaking up your back and her free hand squeezing your thigh. 

“Or more like this?” She looked up at you, eyes full with a type of fire that could only stem from pure love and adoration. Her nose nuzzled against your cheek before she planted some light kisses along your jaw. Your arms went to their designated spot around her neck as she continued to leave feather-like kisses along your skin. You let out a small sigh, bliss and a sense of belonging coursing through you. She softly pulled your face to hers by your chin and pushed you flushed against her before her lips found yours. Slow pecks and open mouthed kisses quickly deepened as your lips pressed against one another’s furiously and full of passion. But as you felt Misa start to play with the hairs in your neck, she also slowly untangled herself from your grip. Frowning, you quickly reared back. 

“This is probably the worst time to tell you that the others are on their way here?” A child-like kind of guilt flashed across her face, and for a second, she couldn’t even look you in the eye. She knew how sacred the time you had together was, how scarce it was, too. Not to mention how much you had looked forward to spend each and every minute together, and make use of it as well.

“What? What do you mean? Who?!”

“Well, Jenni, Patri… Leila. Ale and Olga will be there, too, and all the others… if they have time.”

You rose an eyebrow, studied her face, “…there? Where?!”

 Misa sighed and rubbed her brows, “They want to go out to some club since most of us are in town, but I had my phone off the entire day and only now read that they’re going to pick me up…but-”

“-they don’t know I’m with you?”

She nodded sheepishly, “I just texted them that, but Jenni said that’s even better… that it will be more fun with you around, anyway.”

You whined again and threw your head against her shoulder. She patted your back, “I know. Feeling the same.”

“Text them again. Say we’re out.” 

“I could… if I hadn’t just told them I was not planning on leaving the apartment with you.”

“What’d they say?”

She sent a toothy grin your way, “Apart from hollers and dirty comments?”

“Oh God, I don’t want to know.”

You felt Misa’s hand start to roam beneath your shirt again. Her voice turned to a whisper, “Anyway, we don’t have to open when they knock.” You sidled up to her again, liking how your knees were on either side of her legs, giving you the control to keep her in place. “We’ll just pretend they’re not there so they’ll go, vale?” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. 

“I like that idea,” You whispered back.

“Yeah? Think you can do that?” Misa cupped your cheek and tilted her head in challenge. You hummed noncommittally, having only eyes for her and the way she was looking at you, how she softly scratched your back with her cold fingertips and how it sent shivers down your spine already. You were going back in for the kiss when rapid knocking sounded from the hall. The two of you shared a look, before Misa whispered against your lips, “Ready to put your money where your mouth is?”

She kissed you, hard, stopping you from answering her as her hands raked across your body to all the places she knew would work you up.

The knocking commenced, but this time, it was a little harder to ignore,

“Police! Open up!” Jenni’s voice boomed from the other side of the door. You felt Misa pause, but she quickly continued and pulled you closer when Jenni’s muffled voice sounded again, “We received a phone call about a possible house fire. Neighbours said it was getting too hot, so we came by to check.”

You knew that all of Misa’s neighbours on this floor were probably hearing this as well, but when your head slowly turned to face the noise, Misa softly pulled it back to her.

Now you heard another voice, more banging on the door and some laughter, too, “We’re looking for two fugitives who could be inside. Both attached to the hip, can’t keep their hands off one another and are probably the reason behind the fire.”

"Yeah, we really need to get in to blow it out!" 

Misa loudly cursed and dropped her hands, squeezing your waist before sliding you onto the couch with the utmost care before standing up.

“I won’t be long.” She spoke gently, in contrast to the way she grumpily walked to the hallway. “Going to fucking kill them-” She muttered under her breath.

You heard the voices less muffled now. Jenni, Leila and Patri, indeed. But their voices grew louder and you heard the front door close. 

“Some fugitive you are, opening the door to the police.”

“I’d rather have that than have my building know I’m friends with idiots.”

“They already know, Leila and Patri ding-dong-ditched all the numbers downstairs at the intercom, that’s how we got in.”

You quickly made yourself presentable and perched yourself on the edge of the couch.

“There she is!” The trio stood in the living room, grins and smirks on their faces, with a less-than-amused Misa finally trailing behind them, mouthing an apology to you.

“You’ve found me… the arsonist.” You smiled softly, trying to calm the whiplash you felt from having gone from a heated make out with your girlfriend to this clownish trio standing before you. 

Patri looked around, “No flames yet, so looks like we came just in time.”

You saw Misa roll her eyes and mock Patri, who saw you giggle and quickly turned around to face an innocently smiling Misa. Leila walked over and pulled you off the couch, “Go doll up, I'll help you pick something out but we gotta go, we gotta go! No time to waste! You can go and fire up the dance floor later, dale!”

You passed Misa as Leila pushed you down the hall, the defender’s giggles filling the room. They were having way too much fun with this, but you couldn’t help but let out a laugh as well when you saw the big grump your girlfriend had become. 

“Don’t kill them,” You mouthed to her before disappearing in the bedroom.

“You too,” Jenni plucked at Misa’s hoodie with disdain, “Come on! You’ve got to show them you’re a power couple.”

“I don’t have to prove anyone anything, let alone that we’re good together.”

Patri rolled her eyes, “Look, we can’t have you slacking in trainers when she’ll be looking like a snack. Or do you want everyone to go up to her, not knowing she’s with you?”

Misa threw her head in her neck and groaned, “First you go and ruin our time and now you’re having me play dress up? Really, woman?”

“You don’t want to spend time with your friends anymore?” Jenni gasped in mock outrage, then laughed, “Come on, you can thank me later when she sees you and can’t keep her eyes off you.”

A huff left Misa’s mouth as she threw herself on the couch, reaching for the remote to stop the show you had been watching so you wouldn’t miss anything. She watched as Patri gave her a look, “What?”

“Y/N’s committed to it, now you have, too.” Patri crossed her arms.

“More like had to surrender herself,” She squinted her eyes at Patri, “But alright, I’ll bite.” She sighed, realising they were not taking no for an answer tonight. “My closet is the first door to your right. You sprung this upon me, so you go and have a look, I can’t be bothered.”

 “Aw, big baby-” Patri stuck her tongue out, receiving the finger from Misa. She plopped down next to her on the couch while Jenni hurried off towards the closet, loving the power she had been given.

“You really love her, no?” Patri teased, to which Misa only rose an eyebrow. “The real deal, yeah? I can see it.”

“Patri-”

“No, listen! I love it! It’s good to see you so happy and in love. A little weird, too.”

“Don’t go all soft on me now.” Misa tried to nudge Patri away, who was giving her air kisses, but her face had softened nonetheless. 

“Hold onto that, don’t let her go.” Patri shrugged matter of factly and pulled the remote out of Misa’s hands, “Just don’t you dare forget about your idiotic friends.”

Misa smiled, genuinely, “Never. To both things.” 

After Jenni had returned with an armful of clothing and threw it at Misa to put on, Leila and you had returned not long after. 

“Yes, that’s what we’re talking about!” Jenni looked at how well you’d cleaned up, returning your smile. She came over, seeming to fix your outfit a bit, only to quietly mutter to you, “Got her to wear the national team blazer I know you love on her.” She winked, then turned to the others. “Let’s go!”

Misa walked up to you, her fingers immediately locking with yours, and you couldn’t help but look her up and down feeling completely mesmerised. She was indeed wearing the black blazer you absolutely loved. Beneath it, she wore an elegant green V-shaped satin top that stopped right beneath her belly-button, looking as soft as the sun-kissed skin beneath. And with a pair of black tailored trousers to match, she looked absolutely ravenous. 

The smirk on her face had grown as she’d watched you take her in.

“Ready to go?” She squeezed your hand, pulling you back to earth, the dangling of her car keys taking you out of your daydream. 

“You’re not driving with us?” Leila asked, seeing the shake of Misa’s head, “Then why did we pick them up?”

“I’ve been wondering the same thing ever since you knocked on the door.” Misa muttered softly, playfully, having made peace with their predicament now, “But no, I want to be able to leave when we’ve had enough. I’m not letting you guys trap us again.”

You quickly plucked the keys out of her hand, then out of her reach when she tried to get them back, “Nah-ah, you always drive me everywhere. I want you to be able to have fun tonight. I’m not feeling like drinking anyway. Really, it’s okay.” You quickly added when you saw the look on her face. Misa was having a battle with herself. She hadn’t liked this turn of events, at all. It wasn’t the night she had planned and she knew you hadn’t wanted this either. For you to then sacrifice your night for her, felt wrong. If anything, she would have wanted you to have fun.

“If you’re wondering whether I can have fun without alchohol, then that’s a challenge I’ll happily take.” You shot at her when you saw the gears in her head turning for too long. She looked up, immediately, saw the playful pout on your lips and quickly planted a kiss on them. She knew this was you wanting to treat her tonight, a fair exchange for all the times she had put you first. 

“Okay, let’s go, then.”

You walked out of the apartment with Misa in hand, but not after hearing the trio mutter,

“Ten euros on them leaving within the hour,”

“Pussy, make it forty... on them not even making it to the place.”

“You’re not having lots of faith in them… I call two hours, but make it forty-five.”

“Why not round it up to fifty?”

“I like odd numbers.”

“Fifty is an odd number, you doof.”

You bit your lip, realising you could have some fun with the bets they had placed. 

Finding an available parking spot in the city centre on a Saturday night had deemed more of a nightmare than initially anticipated. You should’ve just gotten an Uber, but you sensed Misa had done this on purpose. She’d insisted on driving the way there, after all, but you knew it was because she often really calmed down when behind the wheel. Especially at night, with the sun down. Only this hadn’t been the most relaxed drive. 

“Mierda-” She cursed as she rounded another corner, seeing a car park right in the spot she’d had her sights on. 

“I’m beginning to think you took the car on purpose just so you could use the no-parking-spots excuse and drive back home.”

“Don’t tempt me,” She laughed, her hand going to your thigh as she put the car in reverse, turning back around. You grabbed it, giving it a squeeze. She squeezed back, her eyes still fixated on the road behind her before turning the car back in first gear. It was a thing the two of you often did, the squeezing, both to ground each other when things got hard, and to remind one another you were in this together. Never alone. It was something Misa had kind of initiated after a particularly rough night you’d once had. It had been the first time she’d seen you so distraught… the first time she’d seen you cry, for that matter. It had all felt a little unknown to her. She was out of her element, physically aching at how she didn’t know how to get that smile of yours to reappear again. So she’d held you, squeezed you to the beating of her heart in an attempt to calm and comfort you, trying to get you back to her. It had worked, and every other time after that. 

“There!” You perched in your seat, finger pointing to the spot that had just cleared up. 

“I know,” Misa muttered, almost disappointed, “Hoped you wouldn’t notice.”

“Misa-” You let out a loud laugh, loving how her eyes immediately flitted to yours, amusement on her face. She parked the car, turned it off, then turned to you.

“You know, we could just stay here.”

“And?”

“I think you know.”

“No-” You pointed a finger at her, grabbed your clutch and pressed the release button of both your seatbelts, “I’m not losing. And you’re coming with me.”

“Losing what?”

But you had already playfully ran in front of her, turning around with a smirk on your face, daring her to catch up. 

“Do you even know where it is?”

“I’ll follow the music!” You yelled back.

Misa shook her head and bit her lip. You were one hell of a woman.

The club was packed, dark and filled with people who’d already drank more than just a club soda. But perhaps that was exactly the fun of places like these. People came here to let loose. To have fun. To dance without inhibitions, to mingle and meet strangers. After stuffing both yours and Misa’s ID’s back into your clutch, she pulled you close to her. It felt safe to feel the weight of her hand on the small of your back, to know she was there, caring about your safety. She cleared your way through the crowd, passed the dance floor, the bar, the bathroom before walking up to the booths lined up to the wall in the back. You recognised the familiar laughter before you saw the group. They all cheered when they realised you two had made it, after all. 

“Hey, what took you so long? Pay up, Leila!” Jenni laughed as she pulled the two of you into their booth. “Patri and Ale are getting drinks, Mapi and Ona went to the restroom.” She quickly informed you two before motioning towards the bar. 

You gave Olga and Ingrid a hug as best as you could over the tables filled with empty glasses. Conversation soon flowed freely. Granted, it was a little distracting that Misa’s hand rested on your leg, squeezing now and then as she fell into an idle chat with Alexia once she returned with the drinks. You sipped from your alcohol free beverage, actually finding yourself enjoying reconnecting with these girls more than you thought you would after having been plucked away from your Misa-bubble. 

Olga suddenly stood up, “I want to dance. Dance?” She turned to you, then to Ingrid.

“Dance.” You nodded, sliding across Misa’s lap and out of the booth. 

“Don’t get lost.” Misa smiled playfully, keeping hold of your hand until the distance made it fall back onto her lap.

“There they go, the girlfriends.” Mapi sighed dreamily, her eyes on Ingrid who blew a kiss over her shoulder. 

Misa took a deep breath, watching as the three of you laughed and walked away. “I love her.” 

“Yeah,” Alexia agreed, her eyes following Olga, breathless. 

The song had just changed as you made your way through the crowd, the three of you holding hands so as to not lose each other. Some people who hated the new song walked away, the dispersing crowd helping Olga to find her way to the centre of the dance floor. Olga’s cheer when Shakira’s Dare’s Club mix started to play egged Ingrid and you on and the music quickly helped you move around as if no one was watching. Two girls dancing close to the three of you joined, matching your childlike joy at being able to let go after a long week of work. The neon lights flashing above you were hot on your face as you moved around. But you couldn’t care less, you were having fun. A MEDUZA song started, followed up by something from Alok’s and Tiësto’s repertoire and soon, even without alcohol, the songs started to blur together. Olga pulled you close, quickly snapping a pic, then another one as Ingrid and the two girls joined. It was fun, and you wished it would never end. Your bladder had other plans. 

“Gotcha!” Olga yelled over the music when she realised what you were signing at, grabbed Ingrid’s hand and pulled the three off you out of the crowd as swiftly as she’d weaselled her way in. 

At the sink, the three of you giggled.

“I needed that.” Ingrid puffed out a breath, dapping at her neck with a wet towel, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the club. 

“The dancing or the break?” You nudged her, watching her reaction in the mirror as you washed your hands.

“Both.”

“Fair.” Olga nodded with a giddy smile, sitting atop the counter, handing you a paper towel from the dispenser beside her. 

“Oh-” Ingrid’s face suddenly fell, “We never said goodbye to those girls.”

“Aren’t we planning on going back out there?” 

You turned to Olga and watched her hop off, “I like the way you think. I’ll text the wives that we’re still A-OK.” 

“I’m just imagining them sitting in that booth, so lost.” Ingrid laughed.

“Then we should probably give them something to keep them entertained, no?”

Olga opened her mouth, both surprised and impressed, “I like the way you think, again. Ready?”

You linked arms, the heat immediate and slapping in your face as the door of the restrooms opened. Someone had just thrown up close-by, not making it to the toilet in time, that much was clear by the acidy smell in your nose. Or perhaps it was just the mixture of sweat, hormones and bitterly spilt drinks. You passed the bar, pushed through the crowd just enough so that the booth where your friends sat came into view. Olga pulled out her phone, turning the flash on and waving it around. Another waving flash came into view and you got a little closer. The girls from before had left apparently, but the three of you had fun either way as you danced again, interacting with the women in the booth now and then. Patri, Ona and Leila joined- Alexia was very clear that her seat was too comfortable to leave- Jenni danced over with her drink- Mapi opened her arms as Ingrid excused herself and joined her girlfriend in the booth, and Misa… Misa was staring right at you. You couldn’t quite tell if she was mesmerised by how independent, free and joyous you looked, like a little kid on the first day of summer, if she was trying to figure out what she’d ever done to deserve you, or if she was fantasising about all the things she could’ve been doing with and to you had you never left the apartment. She hadn’t even seem to notice the finger you’d used to try and beckon her towards you. You quickly ducked into view of the video Leila was making, then returned your gaze to the booth. Misa wasn’t there. But you knew exactly where she was when two familiar hands snaked across your waist from behind, her breath fanning your neck as you heard her hoarse voice from having had to talk above the music, “You look most beautiful when you’re happy.”

Your smile widened so much, it stretched your face. You grabbed her hands, swaying your hips along to the rhythm and against hers, loving how her grip tightened. She rested her chin on your shoulder, “God, you’re the best thing to have happened to me.” She murmured against your neck. She’d long abandoned her blazer and your hands traveled up her tattooed arms before you turned around in them, giving her nose a peck.

“I’m quite sure that should be my line.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, tilted her head, “Are you now? What’s that based on?”

You hummed, your arms snaking around her neck, hers falling to your hips, “Instinct.” 

“What else is that instinct of yours telling you?”

You pursed your lips, not missing the look in her eyes, the message, the request. 

“Thought you could read me so well?”

Misa’s lips cracked into a grin— you had her trapped. 

“I think it’s telling me to get you another glass of whatever you were drinking. Don’t want you fainting on me. You’re my ride home, after all.” She walked away backwards, eyes never leaving yours, knowing exactly what she had just done by throwing you a rope to hold onto, and then pulling it out of your reach. In the corner of your eye, you could see Patri sneaking a twenty euro bill towards Jenni. That meant one hour had passed. You’d love to see the looks on their faces as you’d ask them all your share of the money for having lasted more than two hours. If you could make it that far. Misa was making it incredibly hard to resist. You excused yourself and went back to the booth, being greeted by Alexia, who scooted over. 

“Enjoying yourself?” She asked in amusement, her eyebrow raised.

“Oh, yes. You, not so much?” You guessed, sensing this wasn’t exactly Alexia’s typical Saturday night.

“I am. Look at her.” A dreamy look coated her eyes as she watced a laughing Olga, having fun. “That’s all that matters.” She mumbled, but got a little embarrassed at the soft look you were giving her, “Anyway, shouldn’t you follow Misa, or something?” She chuckled, her tone a little too suggestive.

You froze. Oh God, had Misa meant something else with her whole ‘you’re looking parched’ act? Was it some sort of euphemism? Was she waiting in the bathroom now? She couldn’t be, right?

“No…” You breathed out in doubt.

Alexia laughed at the flabbergasted look on your face, “Sure looked like it from here… the way she was admiring you. Anyway, you go have fun, you youngsters,” She playfully rolled her eyes.

You stood up, a little self-conscious now as you fixed your clothes. Patri asked if you were okay by sending a questionable thumbs up your way, one you returned with a nod and smile. Gods, okay, what the hell. You were young indeed, why not enjoy it while it lasted.

Okay, the bathrooms. Right.

You felt yourself growing a little hotter as you pushed through the crowd, thoughts racing and your heart speeding up, but you turned back around when a sweaty hand on your arm stopped you. A man stood there. Mid-twenties, ash-blonde hair and a far-off look in his dark eyes as he smiled at you. You gave him a questioning glare, pulling your arm towards your body, but his hold wouldn’t budge. He leaned in, and you immediately reared back feeling incredibly uneasy. You realised he’d leaned in to tell you something,

“Never seen you here before.”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, then pulled at your arm again. He let go but put his hand on your shoulder and stood beside you, pointing towards the crowd with his drink in hand, “Wanna join me and my friends?”

“No, I’m good.” You give him another tight-lipped smile. Stay kind. Stay patient. Then slip away. You could hear yourself say over and over again in your head. You tried to step around him, but he blocked your way and his grip tightened. 

“Come on, please!” He gave you a playful smile and finally let go, allowing you to breathe again. He put his hands together and pouted, “For me?” 

You stepped to the right. He stepped to the right. Between his steps towards you, and your steps back, the panicked shimmying had left you with your back against one of the walls in a vacant spot of the club. Most people here were ready to leave, already too far gone to notice your predicament.

“I’d really rather not.” 

“Ah, why not? I’ll buy you a drink.”

One step closer. Another step back. You hit the wall. 

You shook your head, “No, thank you.”

“I’ve seen you dancing with your girls, come on, you can take them, too.”

“No, thank you. Let me go, now.” He had expertly draped his entire arm across your shoulders now, pulling you into his side, against his shirt as he dragged you a few steps back into the crowd on the outskirts of the dance floor, planning to disappear with you in the sea of people. 

“Ah, Dirty Little Virgin then, I see-” He let you go, but only slightly, the smirk on his face making you sick, “I’ll buy that cocktail for you, my treat, I’m sure you’ll like it, come on. My friends are there, you’ll like them.”

Panicked, your eyes darted around you, hoping that anyone who was watching would notice you were in distress and that you did not belong to this man.

Well, so much for being young and seizing the moment, you thought.

You fought against his hold, hating how your head pressed against his clammy shirt. You couldn't breathe.

“Joder, hijo de puta, keep your filthy fucking hands off of her, you sick fuck-” You turned your head around as much as you could in his drunken but firm grip, and saw your girlfriend push two drinks into the chest of the nearest bystander.

“Now.” She growled and approached, teeth baring, seething, fuming, already working on prying his arm off you with mighty strength. He let go in a painful protest. 

“Fucking hell-” He took offence, stepping in front of you as if Misa was the one he needed to protect you from.

“Step back and walk away.” She spoke through gritted teeth. You saw her clench her fist, all the anger in her body collecting in there, and you feared what the end result would be if she’d release it. 

“Fucking girl telling me how to live my night-”

Misa’s eyes then quickly flickered to yours, softening slightly, needing the confirmation that you were alright. Shaken up, yes, but Misa was here, so all would be fine. You trembled but nodded.

For your sake, she clenched her fists tighter, hoping to lock her anger there, not wanting this to get out of hand. But when he turned around and made a move to pull you with him again, she pushed him against his broad shoulders. He was tall, fit, towered over her, and yet Misa seemed not intimidated in the slightest. He lost some of his balance that he’d already lost to drinking the entire night, and clashed against some dancing bystanders. They scowled, scoffed, and stopped to see what was happening. More people seemed to realise something was up and turned to stare. You looked around at how many people were already looking your way. Your eyes caught those of your friends in the crowd, who saw the look in your eyes and immediately brought the entire situation to the attention of the others before they tried to make their way over through the partying crowd.

“Fucking girl has more manners than you or I would’ve knocked you out already.”

He huffed, took a step closer to her, abandoning his quest to get you to himself.

“Yeah? Think you can beat me?”

Misa tilted her head, half accepting the challenge and not backing down from this display of alpha behaviour, “I can. Don’t want to. So walk off.” She dug her fingers into his chest, making him take a step back. He immediately closed the distance again, their faces incredibly near to each other. You were finally able to walk away from him, making sure to walk around him in a large radius. When Misa saw you in her peripheral, her arm stood out and you immediately took the invitation to stand behind her. But instead of safely tucking you closer, she pushed you further away, and fear suddenly struck you. 

“Misa, come-” You softly tugged at her arm, afraid of what she'd to to him... what this man might do to her. Not that you thought she couldn’t handle him, please no. You just had to be realistic. And given his size and seeming strength, you weren’t sure how much damage this drunken fool would do to your girlfriend before she’d inevitably take him down.

“Afraid?” He taunted, standing way too close for both your comfort, but Misa didn’t waver one bit.

“Of a teenage boy throwing a hissy fit because he got rejected?”

You closed your eyes, realising Misa wasn't making it better when you saw the anger on his face.

“Then put your fucking money where your filthy mouth is.”

Your face paled as he bumped into her with his chest, but Misa barely budged. Oh, how different you thought your night would be the last time you’d heard that sentence. 

“Misa, please.” You pleaded, "Let's just go home." You felt her relax, lean back as if she realised you were right. If only he had just shut up after that.

His eyes went to yours again, an unreadable look in his eyes. He huffed, “Oh, I see.”

“Good,” Misa nodded, standing in front of you when he approached, “Then you should see she’s taken and not interested and quite frankly, disgusted by you. Fucking move!” She rose her voice and pushed him when he looked at you, readying himself to think of what would no doubt be an insult or a slur. 

A couple sets of arms and hands softly pried you backwards, to safety. Leila, Olga and Ingrid stood behind you, faces serious but gentle as they turned to you, pulling you out of harm’s way. You noticed Jenni, Alexia and Mapi were trying to pry Misa away from the man, making her see it was a useless thing to fight with a drunken fool who only enjoyed egging her on. But she was not backing down. Not now as the words left his mouth. Not only that— he had hurt you, intimidated you and made you feel afraid. Drunk or not, she was not going to leave without teaching a lesson to the one who had wiped the smile of her lover’s face. You watched as Misa’s friends pulled at her, pried at her, tried to talk in on her, tell her it was not worth it, but all you could see was the constant clenching of her fists. This was bad. 

You rubbed your temples, burying your head in your hands before looking back at Misa, “This is bad, get her out of there-” You muttered, stopping the trembling of your fingers by nibbling on them. Someone stroked your back as another hand with a glass of water was pushed in your face. You knew they meant well, but you couldn’t rest and calm down until Misa was fine, preferably a thousand miles away from the fool. 

“Fucking disgusting.” He used her words against her and spat at the ground. Within an instant, yelling ensued as you saw flying limbs and people dashing away. You jumped forward, a rush of instinct telling you to protect what you loved before arms kept you where you were, putting you down onto a stool, not wanting you to get hit in the process or to upset Misa even more. Leila went to stand in front of you, obstructing your view while glancing behind her now and then. 

“It’s okay- she’s okay- they’re all okay.” Ingrid reassured you, her eyes following her own girlfriend with worry. 

“Did he hit her?” 

“No.” Olga immediately shook her head, a little too quickly for your liking.

“She him?” You wondered, looking back up at Leila.

“Don’t think so.”

You rubbed your knees and dropped your head.

You could hear yelling.

“Hey- no, think of your career!”

“Fuck my career, think of my girl, you mean?! I’ll never put my fucking career before my girl. I fucking fight for what I love.”

“Hey- I know, I know, but she wouldn’t want you to do this.”

You realised the girls around you were joined by Ona and Patri as they started to whisper, then whisked you away.

“Time to go.”

“She’s behind us.” Patri immediately spoke when she saw the protest in your eyes.

“Say that the fuck again!? You made a fucking mistake laying a hand on her, you hear me?! Look me in the eyes and say that again!”

You glanced over Ingrid’s shoulder and saw Mapi, Jenni and Alexia forcefully shepherd a furious Misa along between them, who threw insult after insult over her shoulder at the man being held back by security. She looked as fine as she could given the situation. You saw no cuts, swelling or blood. At least not on her face. And with each passing step, the distance between her and the man grew. That calmed you down. For now. 

One of the bouncers walked behind your group, making sure you left without reconnecting with the man outside, telling them your night was over and to not return. Misa got mad at that, saying they should ban the man for sexual harassment, call the police, even. The bouncer only signed her to calm down, then told her they’d figure it out once they left so the fight wouldn’t commence in the streets. He kept a close watch on you all even as you exited the street. When the music boomed further in the distance and the streets turned vacant, Misa seemed to snap out of her anger and rushed through the group, hands immediately replacing those of Olga and Ingrid as she pushed you against her chest. 

“You’re okay now.” She kept muttering, and you realised she probably did so to herself, as well. Then, “I’m sorry.” Over and over again.

“I was worried you’d hurt yourself.” You let Misa squeeze the air out of you, burying yourself in her embrace.

The biting tone to her voice returned, “Well, I was worried he’d hurt you.”

“He didn’t.”

“Okay.” Misa put you at an arm’s length in front of her, examining your eyes to see if you were lying, then pushed the stray hairs from all the dancing out of your face.

“But I really want to go home now.” 

Misa’s heart broke at your voice. You sounded so disappointed… defeated, that your night had ended like this. This was not the night you’d had in mind, and it didn’t seem like you were leaving with those forty-five euros either. 

Misa also couldn’t help but feel something for the way you had called her place home.

She grabbed your hand, squeezed it twice, I’m here, you’re okay, and turned to the others. She quickly thanked them for looking after you and making sure she hadn’t just killed someone, seeing you couldn't, and then pulled you into her as you walked back to where you’d parked the car. Misa softly pried the clutch out of your hands and dug around for her car keys.

“No- I said I’d drive. I haven’t drank anything. I'm fine, I can do it.” You protested, only for Misa to open the passenger door and help you in, even going as far as to put on your seatbelt. She planted a kiss on your cheek.

“I haven’t drank anything either.”

“I told you I would-”

“I can have fun without alcohol, too, believe it or not. And I was having a good night before-” She stopped herself, shrugged it off and got in the car herself, "Well, I didn't want to drink too much anyway, because then I wouldn't be able to protect you the way I want."

“You do too much for me.” Your little voice sounded in the quiet of the car once she had driven off. 

“There’s no such thing when it comes to you.” Misa kept her eyes on the road, her hand squeezing your knee to comfort you.

“But you never let me do anything back. It’s give and take, you know?”

“I don’t see our relationship as transactional. I do things for you because I love you. That doesn’t mean I need anything in return.”

It was silent for a while, until you spoke up.

“‘Kay, good. Because I’m in your debt after tonight and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to do such a thing back to you. He was big.”

“His ego, maybe.” Misa snorted, finally being able to see the humor of it all now that she had you safe and sound beside her. 

You didn’t laugh along, instead wondering, “Did you hit him?”

“Wouldn’t be sitting here if I did.”

You thought of the bouncers and security, “Yeah, okay.”

“I wanted to, though.” She turned to look at you, “Said some real nasty shit about you, us, then swung at me. He was so drunk that he almost hit Mapi. That’s when security stepped in and held him back. Couldn’t get a punch in even if I wanted to.”

“So he didn’t hit you either?”

She stopped at the intersection, “No, love, I’m fine.” She grabbed your clenched hand, softly pried her fingers through and planted a kiss on the back of it. She didn’t need to ask if you were fine, she could see you were still a little shaken, the worry for her only slowly disappearing. 

“You could have ruined your entire career back there.”

Misa shrugged, driving off again, “So?”

“So?! Everything you worked for?! Your entire life?!” 

“That’s only slightly true. You’re my entire life. Do you really I think I would have picked it over your safety?” Fuelled by passion for you, she continued, “Listen, football is everything to me. I breathe it, I am it, but at the end of the day, you are what keeps me holding on. You are what drives me, who I want to make proud, who I think of at the start and end of each day. Football became my everything when I grew up and I had a rough time, when I didn’t have a lot of people in my corner. It’s like a best friend. It filled up some of the loneliness I felt. Gave me a purpose, gave me friends, gave me something to focus on, something to enjoy. But you… I’m not sure I can even properly explain what you mean to me without making it sound too dramatic or cheesy, but it’s true. You are my everything. You are... this tangible kind of love, something I can hold and instantly feel relief, love, belonging…. You are joy when I see your smile, you’re my idea of a fun time whenever I hear you laugh. Your love is so big that I can even feel what you feel for me from miles away. That I’m wanted. That I'm yours completely. I’ve never been lonely a day in my life ever since we got together, not even when you are out of the country. I love you to your core.” She turned to you, finally daring to look into your eyes, “That’s why I don’t need anything in return. How can I want even more when you’ve already given me all of that?”

Tears prickled your eyes and your throat burned as you tried to hold them in. Misa was never one for grant speeches or declarations of love. She never needed to tell you how she felt about you when she already showed you. But this… it had moved you. 

You could see she had played back her monologue in her head and grew a little embarrassed, her hands gripping the wheel and her eyes focusing on the road.

“Don’t forget that, okay?” She softly added.

She saw you wipe at your eyes and felt you move to her side, planting a teary kiss on her temple. She heard you whisper those three words, words that were spoken by everyone in the entire world to declare one’s love, and yet, even while so common, they still made her heart burst. 

Misa smiled, “I love you, too.”

The two of you relished in the way your hearts swelled for a bit, until your chuckle filled the quiet car. She turned to you, amused yet confused all the same.

"Que?"

"I thought your whole 'leaving to get drinks' thing was a euphemism. I was on my way to the restroom, actually. Then I saw you with those drinks and God- I could slap-"

"Wait- you wanted to... with me... there?"

"I mean... I figured you-" You stopped.

Misa shook her head, telling you it was okay. She bit her lip, turned to you, her eyes flicking to your body, then to your face. She shrugged and turned back to the road, a smug smile on her face knowing you were hers to love.

"Can't say I hadn't thought about it, but I wanted them to lose, you know? And if we'd started that, I'd have dragged you back home to finish it."

You gasped, ignoring the flush of your cheeks at her confession, "You knew about the bets, too?!"

"They weren't exactly being secretive about it."

"Right?!"

"Having said that," Misa started to drum her fingers against the steering wheel and absentmindedly looked across the road, making it clear to you that her next statement wouldn't be as unserious, "Guess it's safe to say that if there'll ever even be a next time, I won't let you out of my sight all goddamn night. Maybe I can take you up on that offer then." You felt the squeeze on your leg and your hand found hers, squeezing back.

"I'm good on clubs for a while."

"Fine by me. That way we'll never have to leave the apartment again, no?" You pushed her away, seeing the suggestive look on her face, that of a teenager high on hormones.

"Don't you start getting ideas into that pretty head of yours, now."

She held up her hand in defeat, "Vale-" She laughed, then quieted down, her mood softening.

"Let's go home then."

She looked your way, then realised home was already sitting next to her.

⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

© 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝘆.🖤

[cedarmoonzz]

Are you planning on writing a part 3 of between the bars????? <3 love uuuu

slow like honey ꪆৎ ˚⋅

continuation of: between the bars and once more to see you

fandom: gravity falls

ship: ford pines x reader

content: angst, making out, doomed relationship, mentions of sex, hurt/comfort

summary: unbeknownst to either of you, you both spend your final night together with stanford

Every anniversary for the past six years, without fail, you and Ford would go out to dinner. The tradition had started rather spontaneously. On your first anniversary, you had decided to forgo the usual gifts and opt for something more experiential. You chose a cozy little bistro near campus that served the most delectable pasta you’d ever tasted. The evening was simple yet perfect—filled with laughter, deep conversations, and the realization that you were embarking on something special.

Over the years, these dinners had become a touchstone. From greasy diners to hidden gems tucked away in the neighborhoods of Gravity Falls, each venue added a new layer to your shared story. If you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t expect Stanford to ask you out to dinner this time around. The routine felt like it might be breaking, perhaps due to the distance that had grown between you two. Yet, a small part of you held onto the hope that he would make the effort, just as he had every other year.

You stood before the scratched mirror in your bathroom, shifting your weight from foot to foot, the floorboards creaking beneath you. Your reflection stared back with a blend of uncertainty and anxiety, eyes flickering with the weight of the evening ahead. Ford should be coming up from the basement at any moment, and the thought sent another wave of nervous anticipation through you. You had dressed carefully for the occasion—your anniversary dinner—a night that demanded a touch of elegance. Clad in an outfit you had painstakingly pieced together from the second-hand shop by Greasy’s Diner, you hoped the thrifted treasures would suffice.

Boom.

You shut your eyes in frustration, the irritation gnawing at you as another tremor surged through the house. It was as if the very walls quaked in response to whatever Stanford was working on down there, deep in the basement. You could feel the reverberation in your bones, each crash and clatter below resonating up through the floors, making your knees tremble with the force of it. The sound wasn’t just noise—it was an intrusion, a relentless reminder of the chaos that constantly simmered beneath the surface of your life. You were tired of it, tired of feeling every impact three floors above, tired of the way the vibrations seemed to seep into your very being, leaving you on edge, unable to find peace even in your own home.

"Love is patient, love is kind," you mumbled to yourself, the words slipping from your lips like a mantra. You weren’t a religious person—never had been—but there was something about those words that clung to you in moments like this, offering a fragile thread of comfort. As the tremors from Stanford’s work below rumbled through the house, you shut your eyes in annoyance, your eyebrows scrunched up in frustration. Your fingers pressed against your temples, trying to steady the rising tide of irritation.

Boom.

You clenched your teeth at the second jarring crash, a sharp, involuntary reaction that echoed your mounting frustration. "It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud," you muttered, the words barely discernible through the tight grip of your molars, which ground together with an almost rhythmic intensity. The verses, typically a soothing balm, now slipped past your clenched teeth in a strained whisper as you furrowed your brows with even greater force. Your forehead creased into a landscape of deepening furrows, each thud from the basement resonating through your body like a series of small, electric shocks.

You pressed your palms firmly against your eyes, the warmth of your skin meeting the cool, smooth surface of your hands. Your fingers dug into the delicate flesh of your temples, as if seeking to erase the persistent, intrusive thuds from your mind. You leaned back and forth on your heels, the movement gentle yet rhythmic, like a pendulum swinging in a futile effort to find balance amidst the storm. The persistent tremors reverberated through your body, amplifying the agitation that simmered just beneath the surface, leaving you to cling desperately to the fleeting moments of calm you could muster.

"It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered—" The verse was abruptly cut off by a thunderous Boom from the basement. You snapped, unable to contain your frustration any longer. "Oh, fuck this!" you erupted, the words a raw release against the relentless din that had finally broken your patience.

“Ford!” you bellowed, your voice a raw, resonant cry of frustration that seemed to pierce the very air. With a furious swipe, you raked your fingers through your disheveled hair, the movement almost violent in its intensity. The bathroom door slammed shut behind you with a thunderous bang, the sound reverberating through the quiet cabin like an explosion of pent-up anger. You stormed down the stairs to the first floor, each footfall a heavy, defiant punctuation to your mounting rage. The rhythmic, thunderous stomp of your steps matched the pounding fury in your chest, each stride an urgent testament to your exasperation with the relentless, disruptive noise. "You better be ready down there!"

You slammed your palm against the wall of the hallway, the rusty button of the elevator beneath your hand giving way under the forceful impact. The metal creaked and groaned as it sank slightly, a stark reminder of your mounting frustration. The wall seemed to reverberate with the intensity of your outburst, the weight of your anger pressing down on every crevice and corner.

“Screw this! Screw his stupid portal, his idiotic rules, and screw him!" you fumed, a snarl curling your lips as you impatiently waited for the elevator doors to open. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on you—here you were, standing before the very elevator you had designed and built, now reduced to a mere gatekeeper to the "forbidden" basement below. The last time you had descended to that enigmatic lower level felt like a lifetime ago, but the memories flooded back as if it were yesterday. Back then, you hadn’t known that this creation of yours, this marvel of engineering, would one day become a barrier, a symbol of the very authority you now found yourself defying.

The whirring of the elevator mechanisms was almost taunting, each second stretching out as your frustration grew. But beneath that anger, a spark of anticipation flickered—this wasn’t just a return to a place you once knew; it was a challenge to the very constraints you had helped put in place.

As the doors finally slid open, your breath caught in your throat. Instead of the dim, empty hallway you expected, you were met with the imposing figure of Stanford. His presence filled the small space, his sharp eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. There was no escape now, no turning back—the gatekeeper wasn’t the elevator after all. It was him.

You pause, breath catching in your throat, as you take him in. Ford’s usual ensemble of a white button-down, tie, slacks, and lab coat has been cast aside in favor of a more commanding and intimate appearance. The white button-down remains, a familiar anchor in this transformation, yet the sterile lab coat has been replaced by a tailored black blazer. The fabric clings to his frame with a sensuous precision, tracing the contours of his shoulders and tapering around his midsection, creating a figure that seems both powerful and inviting, a magnet for the eyes. His shirt, once meticulously buttoned to the collar, now betrays a more relaxed demeanor. The top buttons are left undone, exposing a sliver of skin that hints at the warmth beneath, while his red tie, no longer neatly knotted, hangs loosely around his neck. It rests on his chest with a kind of deliberate carelessness, the bold color contrasting against the pale fabric, drawing your gaze.

His brown hair is tousled, strands falling just out of place, as if touched by the wind—or more likely, the consequence of his own distracted hands. This subtle disarray only adds to the intimacy of his appearance, a sign of his vulnerability beneath the polished exterior, inviting those who see him to look closer, to wonder what thoughts lie beneath the surface.

But it's not just his appearance that tells a story. His face is flushed, a deep crimson spreading across his cheeks and down his neck, as if he’s been caught off guard, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. He stands in the elevator, holding a bouquet of flowers, his eyes locking onto yours with a magnetic intensity. There’s an urgency in the way he holds himself, a tension in his posture that betrays a rush of emotion barely held in check. The sight of him like this—disheveled, out of breath, yet so achingly poised with that bouquet in hand— almost makes you laugh.

“[Y/n],” he says, still out of breath, his voice carrying a hushed intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. He extends the flowers towards you, his eyes skimming down your figure with an unmistakable admiration. "You... You look very beautiful." The words tumble out, raw and unguarded, his gaze lingering on you as if trying to commit every detail to memory. There's a vulnerability in his expression, a softness that contrasts with his usual composed demeanor.

The image of Ford standing in the elevator is a stark reminder of your first date all those years ago. You recall a younger Ford, clad in a sweater and slacks, nervously thrusting a bouquet of carefully wrapped lillies towards you as he stood at the foot of your apartment door. His face was as red as the blooms he held, a mixture of anticipation and awkward charm that made your heart flutter then, just as it does now.

Despite the passage of time, Ford remains fundamentally unchanged. You met nearly eight years ago, when you were both twenty years old, grouped together in an Advanced Quantum Dimensional Physics course on a project. Back then, his boyish charm was evident in every nervous smile and every hesitant gesture. Now, even beneath the weight of work and the stress that comes with it, that same charm endures.

"Thank you, Ford," you say, taking the bouquet with a soft smile. "What’s with all the noise? I was about to go down to the basement and beat your ass." Your tone blends relief with playful annoyance, adding a touch of levity to the otherwise tender moment.

Ford’s eyebrows raise, and he snaps out of his thoughts, his face flushing as he tears his eyes away from your form. He gives a sheepish smile, clearly embarrassed by the chaos he’s caused. "Oh! Yes, my apologies. I was, um, looking for my car keys. And I seem to have knocked down a grand total of... three destabilizers? Maybe two particle accelerators.”

"Five pieces of high-tech machinery and we still can't afford a new dishwasher?" you tease, raising an eyebrow at him. Your tone is light, but there's a hint of exasperation mixed with amusement as you look at the mess.

“These are necessary purchases, my dear!” he huffs out a laugh, stepping out of the elevator with a charmingly disheveled grace. He extends his forearm toward you, a gesture both gallant and inviting. “Are you ready to go? Our reservation should be starting soon.” His playful grin and the warmth of his gesture make it clear that he’s eager to move past the chaos and enjoy the evening with you.

You take his arm, linking it with your own as you grin up at him. “As long as you agree to order a bottle of Cabernet for the table, I’m ready to leave when you are.” The easy familiarity of the gesture tugs at a longing inside you, a reminder of the effortless closeness you once shared. Lately, things have been strained between the two of you, and you’ve found yourself ruefully returning to your smoking habit in secret, having learned your lesson from the last time Ford caught you. You wonder if he can smell the smoke on your breath, if the scent lingers in your hair despite the deep conditioning you just underwent. The memory of smoking with a grocery bag tied over your head just two hours prior while re-reading Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar for the fifth time that year brings a pang of regret. You can’t help but feel a tinge of anxiety about whether this secret, this small escape, is detectable to the one person whose opinion matters most.

“Let’s make that two bottles, love,” Ford says with a smile that highlights the bags under his eyes. They’ve deepened, you notice, but he’s still impossibly handsome to you.

The car ride to the restaurant was enveloped in a serene silence, punctuated only by the soft strains of Fleetwood Mac’s newest single emanating from the 8-track tape you had insisted on playing. As the car glided through the wintry landscape, the world outside was a wintery tableau of stillness and quiet beauty. The darkness of the evening, settling in at 7 p.m., cast a soft, muted glow over the landscape. The trees, tall and skeletal, stood cloaked in a delicate blanket of snow, their branches heavy and laden with white. The ground beneath them was similarly covered, the snow pristine and unblemished, save for the occasional delicate track of a nocturnal creature.

The snowy expanse reflected the faint, ambient light of the car’s headlights, creating a shimmering, ethereal quality that danced across the landscape. The quiet was profound, only occasionally interrupted by the gentle crunch of tires over snow or the faint rustling of branches. The scene outside was serene and almost magical, a winter wonderland wrapped in a velvety cloak of darkness, enhancing the feeling of calm and intimacy within the car.

Stanford’s hand rests on your thigh, his left hand gripping the steering wheel while his right palm lies flat but carries a faint tension, as if it’s holding back something unspoken. It’s been two weeks since the night you shared in the snow and a month since his fallout with Fiddleford. Life has settled into a rhythm that feels both familiar and strained.

Despite his efforts to show his love—choosing to spend more nights with you rather than immersing himself in work on the portal—there’s an unmistakable edge to his presence. His hand, warm against your skin, still carries a subtle rigidity, a reminder of the underlying unease between you. His gazes linger longer than usual, and you’ve felt him study you with a mix of affection and concern. His eyes always narrow, as if trying to decipher something elusive about you.

Lost in the whirl of your thoughts, you’re only dimly aware as Stanford navigates the car to your destination. The vehicle glides into a snug parking space near the restaurant—the only refined dining spot in Gravity Falls, a testament to its understated elegance. The night’s darkness casts a soft glow on the restaurant’s exterior, hinting at the warmth and sophistication within.

Stanford’s deft hands turn the keys in the ignition, the engine’s hum fading into silence with a satisfying click. As the car stills, he turns to face you, his expression a blend of eagerness and intimacy. His gaze lingers on you, soft yet intense.

"I want to speak to you about something," he begins, his voice breaking through the silence left in the wake of Stevie Nicks’ fading melody. The suddenness of his words contrasts with the stillness in the car, his tone carrying a weight that pulls your attention fully to him.

Suddenly, your seatbelt feels constricting, as if it’s tightening around you, making it difficult to breathe. The air seems to thin as you take in his gaze, the intensity of his eyes pinning you in place, filling the space between you with a palpable tension. "About?"

Stanford reaches to unbuckle his seatbelt, the click of the release sounding louder in the quiet car. He turns toward you fully, his body shifting to close the distance. You instinctively move to do the same, freeing yourself from the confines of your own seatbelt, now facing him without any barriers between you. His eyes meet yours with a mixture of resolve and vulnerability as he speaks, "About what you asked me. If I'm... still in love with you." The words hang heavy in the air, the gravity of the moment pressing down on you both.

You say nothing, your breath catching as you stare into his eyes, feeling yours widen in surprise. The weight of his words settles over you, and your gaze falters, drifting down to your hands as they instinctively wring together in your lap. The silence stretches, heavy and charged, as you wait for him to speak, your heart pounding in the quiet space between you.

"[Y/n]," he mutters softly, but you don’t respond, your thoughts too tangled to form words. He reaches out, gently cupping your cheek in his palm, urging you to meet his eyes. "There is no one else on this earth who I love more than you." His voice is earnest, but as you look at him, you can’t help but notice how much older he seems—the streetlight streaming through the windshield casting harsh shadows that emphasize the worried wrinkles and dark circles beneath his eyes. "It pains me that you think otherwise," he continues, his thumb brushing tenderly against your skin, his expression a blend of sorrow and love.

"And I know that this... project of mine has formed a rift between the two of us," he admits, his voice heavy with regret. His hand stays on your cheek, the warmth of his touch at odds with the cold truth in his words. "I’ve been cruel to you—cold. None of it would be possible without you. I just... wanted to inform you that I am in the process of dismantling the portal.”

His confession hangs in the air, a quiet revelation that sends a wave of shock through you. The project that consumed him, the very thing that had driven a wedge between you, was now being taken apart. His eyes search yours, seeking understanding, forgiveness, something that might ease the burden he’s carried alone for too long.

“Stanley is coming tomorrow to help me put an end to this blasted mess I've created," he adds, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking the words aloud makes them more real. The mention of Stanley, his estranged brother, only deepens the weight of his confession. You can see the turmoil in his eyes, a mix of relief and fear, etched deeply into his features. His expression is fraught with worry and trepidation, as if the enormity of what he’s undertaking has finally caught up with him. His hand remains steady on your cheek, but there’s a vulnerability in his gaze that you haven’t seen in a long time—a silent plea for your support and understanding as he faces this daunting task.

He looks worried, more scared than you’ve ever seen him before. There’s a tremor in his eyes and a depth to his expression that speaks of hidden fears. You know him better than you know yourself, and it’s clear to you that he’s concealing something. The anxiety etched into his features, the hesitation in his voice—it all points to a deeper truth he’s not yet revealing. The sense of something left unsaid lingers between you, an unspoken tension that underscores the gravity of his confession.

"Oh, screw it," you think, your heart swelling with joy despite the unspoken tension. You’re too overwhelmed with happiness to let the hidden fears or unspoken truths weigh you down. A radiant smile spreads across your face, transforming your expression into a broad, irrepressible grin. Leaning into his palm, you let the warmth of the moment wash over you. "No more late nights in the basement?" you ask, your voice light, as if the weight of the world has momentarily lifted. The joy in your tone contrasts with the earlier seriousness, cutting through the atmosphere like a breath of fresh air, and you bask in the simple, unadulterated relief of the news.

"No more late nights in the basement," he repeats, his voice carrying a note of relief as he takes in your smile. The tension seems to lift from his shoulders, replaced by a softer, more hopeful expression. "I also wanted to ask you something else," he continues, his gaze shifting to meet yours with a mix of earnestness and anticipation.

Your eyes widen just a fraction more as you absorb his words, a thrill of anticipation sparking within you. "What else?”

Ford’s face suddenly flushes a deep red, and he shifts uncomfortably, moving his hand from your cheek to tug nervously at the collar of his button-down. “I was, uh, thinking,” he begins, his voice wavering slightly, “Maybe, once this is all over, of course, maybe we can start preparations for the… for the wedding.” The words stumble out of him, each one laden with a mixture of hope and trepidation. The vulnerability in his gaze contrasts with the warmth of his earlier demeanor, as he waits for your reaction to his tentative forwardness.

You’re convinced you’ve never been more ecstatic to hear this man’s voice in your life. A joyous giggle bursts from your throat, escaping before you can even catch it. The realization that your endearing, slightly clueless fiancé will finally become your husband sends a wave of elation through you. Your heart is practically dancing with delight, overwhelmed by the sheer excitement and happiness. The world around you seems to shimmer with a new, vibrant energy, and every thought and worry melts away, leaving only the radiant joy of this moment.

Without a second thought, you practically leap from your seat into his arms. The car’s interior transforms into a haven of warmth and affection as you envelop Stanford in a cascade of kisses. His face, already flushed from his earlier nervousness, now lights up with genuine laughter, the sound rich and full, reverberating through the confined space. His arms come around you with a comforting firmness.

"Yes! Fucking finally, yes, Ford!" you laugh, your voice trembling with the sheer joy of the moment. Your hands cradle his face with a tenderness that feels almost sacred as you lean in, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. The warmth of his breath mingles with yours, and the kiss deepens, an intoxicating blend of exhilaration and relief that seems to transcend all the struggles you’ve faced. His arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer against him, fully settling you onto his lap. The lack of the car's heater does little to bother you as you nuzzle your face into Ford’s neck, finding solace in the warmth of his embrace.

Stanford laughs softly, his breath warm against your skin as he rubs your back soothingly. "Y/n, darling, we're going to miss our reservation," he murmurs with a gentle chuckle. The sound of his laughter reverberates through his chest, adding a comforting rhythm to the moment.

You pull away from the crook of his neck, lifting your gaze to meet his eyes. Stanford’s hair is now a delightful mess from when you ran your fingers through it moments prior, with rebellious strands splaying out in charming disarray. The collar of his white button-down, once meticulously aligned, now tilts at an angle, as though in a state of blissful disarray. The black blazer, once a paragon of tailored precision, is now creased and rumpled from your shared embrace, the fabric bearing the intimate marks of your contact.

His red tie, previously a picture of neatness, now drapes at a rakish angle, adding an alluring quality to his look. The flush on his cheeks, deepened by the kiss, contrasts vividly with his slightly tousled appearance, while a faint, tender smudge of lipstick lingers at the corner of his lips. You gaze at him, overwhelmed by the fierce surge of love you feel. Despite the messiness, there’s an undeniable intimacy in his appearance, a tangible trace of the passionate moment you shared, making him look both endearing and irresistibly human.

“Forget the reservation,” you say in one breath, your voice breathless and urgent as you surge forward to capture his lips with yours once more. The words barely escape before your lips meet his, and the world outside melts away, leaving only the heated, intoxicating connection between you.

It didn’t last, the kiss. It was intense but fleeting, a fervent moment before Stanford gently pulled away, taking your hands in his. He lifted them to his face, pressing tender kisses to your fingers, to your palms. His expression was a heady mix of adoration and intoxication.

You couldn’t recall ever feeling so radiant, so utterly cherished.

“You are an absolute vision, my love,” Stanford murmured, his voice a soft reverence against the inside of your wrist. He kissed the delicate delta of veins there, his lips tracing a path to the center of your palm, each kiss a silent testament to his deep affection. “You look stunning, incredible—breathtaking. [Y/n], these past few months have been a torment without you by my side. Nothing has made me feel so alive as I do now, looking at you.” He laughed softly, a sound of pure joy, and pressed your hand to his chest. “Do you feel that? My heart is pounding.”

Miraculously, even through the layers of fabric, you could feel the thunderous beat of his heart. He wasn’t exaggerating; his pulse was racing. You took his hand and guided it to your chest, so he could feel your own heart racing in sync with his.

“Look at you,” you said, breathless and beaming. “Dashing, roguishly handsome in your suit. How am I going to keep my hands off you tonight?”

Stanford’s cheeks flushed so deeply that his blush was visible even in the dim light of the car. His eyes were heavy-lidded, and his voice was strained with longing as he replied, “Then don’t. Keep them off me, I mean,” he said, leaning closer, his mouth moving toward yours. “Hold me, touch me however you like…”

The temptation was almost unbearable. Dinner seemed a trivial pursuit compared to the desire to peel him out of his suit, to undress him slowly and explore every inch of his body. It had been far too long.

You leaned in, placing a tender kiss on his cheek before brushing your lips against his ear. “Maybe we should go back home first,” you suggested, pulling back and beginning to disentangle yourself from his embrace.

“That's not a bad idea,” Stanford says, his voice steadier now, though his cheeks still carry a hint of the earlier flush. He clears his throat and adjusts his glasses, which had been askew from your earlier embrace. “We can order takeout for dinner. Although,” he adds with a playful glint in his eye, “I must admit, I find something else much more appetizing.”

[jpnriikicore]

── oh, my good looking boy

paring paul aron x fem!reader, word count 596, genre fluff, ( masterlist )

the morning sun peeked through the sheer curtains casting an angelic haze in your shared hotel room. the mishaps of forgetting that the balcony door is open letting the curtains dance in the light breeze. children’s laughter as they kick around a ball in a fun-hearted game just across the street.

hair sprawled across the pillowcase. your elbow digging into the plush mattress underneath you propping yourself up. you took the chance to admire your boyfriend something that you don’t get the chance to do often. normally, either you're rushing or he’s rushing not getting a mellow moment. even at times, the other side of the bed is empty and cold when you don’t share hotel rooms or he doesn’t sneak into your hotel room late at night. usually, in the paddock, it’s fleeting glances and very minimal grazes. by this point, you’ve memorized every single part of his features even with the short amount of time that you have to do so.

he lays on his back with his arms underneath his pillow. his blond hair unruly and disheveled. he gained the new nickname "blondie" after a few dates and refuses to reference him as another thing else. your nail lightly grazing on his skin connecting the light freckles that scattered across his back.

you raised your body sitting on the edge of the bed. your fingers fiddling with the buttons to slowly unbutton his shirt that you wore to bed last night to discard to take a shower and get ready for your spontaneous plans.

behind you, the blond shifts underneath the sheets. a frown appears on his lips as he feels disappointed that you're not cuddled up right beside him. normally, when he wakes up your pressed right against him almost entirely on top of him even though you’ve fallen asleep on your respectful side on the bed. his eyes fluttered open attempting to adjust to the sunlight beaming in. though he couldn’t see your face. he is only visible to your unruly hair and his oversized shirt slipping off your shoulders he found you incredibly pretty.

his gaze held so much love and fondness that it would terrify someone who wasn’t sure that he was the one but to you. you knew he was one when they first met eight years ago whilst karting around italy that he was the one that you wanted to marry. now, you never put any thought into your perfect wedding until the first time you saw him smile with sun-kissed skin and rosy cheeks.

you aren’t fond of the tan lines on your arms and thighs, but he was. you got offered a solution by him yesterday morning of just basking in the sun naked on the balcony, but you talked yourself out of that. you always sweet-talked yourself out of situations. you were particularly good at that and though it was quite annoying at times. it’s a quality that he loves.

oh, how he missed so dearly how your freckles adorned your sun-kissed skin that scattered across your slight reddened cheeks due to spending time on the boat more recently during his short period of a break. he missed adoring them in the colder months.

he lifted on his elbow gently moving your hair to the side to press a kiss on the back of your neck which was already littered with love marks from last night's activities that you had a slim chance of actually covering. he pulled you back into his warm arms and underneath the sheets once again.

© JPNRIIKICORE, 2024