#and she's probably really used to cuddling in order to share body heat to get through the really cold nights

[pineapple-frenzy]

Book 2 au: and there was only one bed!! :00

Because of course I just had to do this trope

This is the first and last time they decide to sleep in an inn and they have an unspoken agreement to pretend this never happened

[kats-writing-desk]

SoulGear and there's only one bed

tags: fluff, there's only one bed, d&d characters, grumpy x sunshine, cuddling, sapphic

cw: light swearing, mention of scars

.

“... Well, this won’t be awkward at all”, Asra finally said to break the silence.

It had already been an exhausting day of travel, and when the party had finally come across a town, stopping at an inn felt like a good decision. Initially they’d figured they’d each just get a room of their own, since they weren’t forced to share one anymore, what with the whole Hades situation finally being over and dealt with. Lior, however, had convinced the rest of them to be a bit more frugal; six rooms was going to cost a pretty penny (even though they could’ve easily afforded it since most of them were still loaded from the assignment in Mierre alone), not to mention it was highly unlikely that an inn in a small town like this would even have that many rooms available. So they’d opted for three rooms and drawn lots for who was going to room with who. Avilion and Fern ended up sharing one, Nōbu and Lior the other, and finally Asra and Cori in the third room.

Asra should’ve known there was some shenanigans going on. They could’ve sworn they’d seen Avilion fiddling with the tokens they’d used to draw, and they’d noticed the warlock discreetly mentioning something to the woman running the inn when she’d handed them their keys. And now, despite specifically having asked for rooms with two beds, Asra and Cori stood at the doorway of a small room dominated by one double bed, both of them too stunned to really say anything.

Asra was definitely going to have some words with Avilion later.

“... It’s probably a mistake. I’ll just head back downstairs and ask to change the room”, they said and turned to go. Cori shifted a little and made an unsure sound which made them stop.

“I mean… We don’t have to, necessarily”, she said. “I mean. We don’t wanna be a bother. The lady probably has lots of stuff to do besides moving the guests around. And it’s not like the room’s bad, or anything like that. We’re both adults, sleeping in the same bed is not that big of a deal.” She didn’t appear particularly fazed about the whole thing, though Asra could still see her twiddling her fingers and her eyes darting between them and the bed a bit restlessly. “And, you know, it does look like a pretty comfortable bed.”

“... Yeah, okay, but one bed is one thing. One blanket and pillow though? It’s still winter, and there’s no fireplace. One of us is gonna end up freezing”, Asra argued.

“We can probably share? I think we can survive sleeping next to each other for one night”, Cori countered and went to sit on the edge of the bed. She bounced a few times to test the mattress, earning a little chuckle from Asra. ”Come on. We’re both tired, so just get in. And it’s not like we haven’t slept together before.”

“...” Did she have to phrase it like that? Sure, they’d slept in the same room before (kinda hard not to when you had to stay within 10 metres from Nōbu in order to not give away their location to a murderous revenant), and Asra was trying not to think of all those times when the party had had to camp outside in the freezing cold and ended up huddling close for warmth. (Only because Avilion as a tiefling was basically a living furnace, and sharing body heat was a valid tactic to survive during winter, Asra kept telling themself.) But sharing a bed, and with Cori of all the other party members? 

“Look, I’ll just sleep on the floor, it’s fine”, Asra said, desperately trying to get Cori to drop the whole idea. “You take the bed, I’ll just use my coat as a blanket or something.” But the sorcerer was having none of that. She stood back up, crossed her arms and frowned at their continued protests.

“Quit acting like I have the plague or something, Asra”, she said, sounding exasperated. “If being near me makes you so uncomfortable, we can just put a pillow between us or something.”

“Don’t you mean the pillow? Since there’s only the one”, Asra replied drily, trying very hard to ignore the obvious tinge of hurt in Cori’s eyes. It’s not that being near her made them uncomfortable. Quite the opposite, in fact. And it’s not like a pillow between them was going to do much, anyway, but…

Cori rolled her eyes.

“Look, no one needs to sleep on the floor, that’s ridiculous”, she said stubbornly. “And it’s not like there’s enough room for that, anyway, unless you want to be under the bed and sneezing at all the dust all night. Just quit being so stupid and get in the bed, okay?”

Asra swallowed and looked away. Fuck. Maybe they should just walk up to either of the other two rooms and ask one of the inhabitants to switch? Avilion was an absolute no, and Fern felt the safest when staying with him, anyway. So Nōbu or Lior, maybe. But Lior would question why, and Asra really didn’t want to have to explain the whole thing right now. Nōbu would be curious, yet too polite to ask, but he seemed to usually prefer to trance on the floor, and there wasn’t room for that. And he would likely be even more embarrassed to share a bed with Cori, and that would just make the situation even more awkward for everyone.

Crap. Their head was starting to spin. How exactly were they supposed to explain away all this? The fact that being that near Cori made Asra so nervous that she was bound to hear their heart beating loudly thousand times a minute?

“... Fuck it. I really don’t want to freeze”, they finally sighed in resignation and sat down on the opposite edge from Cori. “Let’s just… get this over with.”

Asra kicked off their boots and socks and shrugged off the jacket. The enchanted armour shifted to the appearance of dark-coloured leggings and a loose shirt; something a bit more comfortable to sleep in. They firmly kept their back towards Cori when they heard her rustling around, removing her armour and changing into her night clothes. They only dared to look again when they felt the mattress sinking on the other side as Cori sat down as well.

“... Okay then”, Asra breathed and slowly laid down and rested their head on one side of the pillow. It actually was rather comfortable, or at least far from the worst inn beds they'd ever had. Cori followed suit and laid down; Asra felt their heart skip a beat at how close their faces ended up being. Some of her auburn hair fanned over the pillow, and Asra could feel it tickling their nose.

“We’re friends, you said it yourself”, Cori said quietly. Asra hadn’t realised just how blue her eyes were. “This doesn’t need to be weird. It’s just for this night, we can handle that.”

“... Uh-huh”, Asra managed to croak out. Cori turned around and blew out the candle burning on the little table next to the bed, and the entire room became dark.

“Okay then. Good night”, she said and pulled the blanket over both of them. 

Asra instantly knew they had made a big mistake. As soon as the darkness fell, they could see the faint glow of the Blue Sand scars snaking across their arms. Originally, when the glow first appeared after the… explosive experiment they’d done with Raunolymothar, it had also subsided pretty quick. It just seemed to always come back whenever they were in distress or otherwise feeling particularly anxious or emotional. It’s not like it was super glaring or anything, more akin to some blue-tinted glowworms. But you definitely noticed it in the dark. And this was not a moment where Asra wanted their current state of mind known to anyone.

For a few agonising minutes Asra just laid there, unsure of what to do. They were suddenly very aware of every inch of their body and every little movement they made and how it made a sound or moved the mattress and how it would probably bother Cori or wake her up. (She was also laying very still, and wasn’t saying anything about the glow either. Had she seriously fallen asleep so quickly?) The blanket also wasn’t very wide, so Asra’s back was exposed to the chilly air and they were quickly starting to shiver. And there was no room for their arms, which were currently crossed over their chest in a rather uncomfortable position. There was no way in hell they were going to last through the night like this.

“... Fuck”, they finally muttered under their breath, not able to take another second of this. “Hey, Cori?”

“Mhm?” came the answer. Asra wasn’t entirely sure if it sounded like she was startled awake or not.

“I can’t fit under the blanket like this, can I…?” Asra’s voice trailed off, they weren’t entirely sure how to word all the thoughts currently swirling in their brain faster than they could catch onto any of them. They swallowed quietly and before they could start second-guessing themself, shuffled a little closer, pressing their chest lightly against Cori’s back. They hesitated for a moment before wrapping their arm around her waist.

“Is this… okay?” they asked, cursing quietly when their voice cracked a little from nervousness. Cori didn’t say anything, and for a second Asra got hit with the dread that they had made a huge mistake. But then she started shifting around and shuffled a little closer, snuggling against Asra and resting her head below their chin.

Every thought in Asra’s head stopped right then and there.

“Yeah”, Cori murmured. And sounded… content?

“... Okay”, Asra said, not entirely sure what to say or do. They just held onto her a little tighter and finally closed their eyes. Suddenly, there was a quiet in their head where just minutes ago there had been chaos. Their breathing calmed and heartbeat started slowing down, just a little. Suddenly they were warm again, and every ounce of hesitation had left their brain. Like this was exactly where they were meant to be. Like a puzzle piece they hadn’t even noticed was missing had suddenly found its place and changed the picture drastically, and perfectly.

For the first time in a very long time, Asra slept peacefully that night.

[heartsforlamp]

hiiii!! i love your writing so much🥺 i see that your requests are open and i was wondering if you could could write some headcanons for pieck with a fem s/o that’s really shy? it can be NSFW or SFW, whatever you’re comfortable with! thank you so much for your consideration!!

Oh my gosh, my first compliment on my writing! Thank you so much💕🥺

I love this request so so soooo..much! Because im actually really shy irl. So, of course! 🤗 This is my first time writing headcanons, so I am very sorry if it's not to your liking.😭💔

Pieck finger X Shy fem s/o. Nsfw & Sfw :)

Sfw.

Pieck finger with a shy fem s/o that has a bit trouble ordering/talking in public. So Pieck helps you with it. 💕

“Hello! Welcome to _____ . What may I get you on this fine day?” The employee asked, looking at you. Pieck was standing beside you, looking ethereal as ever. Pieck looked over at you, seeing if you were gonna respond. But you didn’t. You were just standing there fumbling with your fingers and letting out slight “ums..” and “uhs..” Pieck knew she had to help her darling. She knew you were shy and didn't do well with some social situations. “Baby, what would you like to eat?” Pieck asked you, looking at you and putting a hand on your shoulder. “I-I want that.” You said, pointing to a meal on the menu. Pieck smiled at you and looked to the employee saying, “Okay. We’ll get ____ .” ~ “Here you go, my love.” Pieck said, handing your food to you. “Thank you, Pieck. For helping me.” You thanked Pieck, beaming at her.

I feel like Pieck having a shy s/o means reader probably doesn't talk too much but just enough Pieck is satisfied.

The quietness between you two is never awkward, and you both appreciate it very much.

Pieck is exceptionally patient with you all the time. She never pushes you to “stop” your shyness or to “speak up.” She loves you just for who you are. 💕

Nsfw.

Pieck with a shy fem s/o that can get rather nervous to ask her to do anything “intimate.” But it's okay because she knows just what you want.

Pieck loves you so much she would rather do all the work with you during sex than you doing it. You're just too precious.

Pieck is definitely too scared to be too rough with you-- or anything. She most definitely doesn't want to hurt you doing it.

So she's very gentle and caring with you.

Both you and Pieck were on your shared bed. Rubbing both of your heats on to each other. Cute moans and breaths fill the room. “Haah..” Both of you rubbing faster, trying to reach your highs. “P-Pieck..ah- I'm close...” You said. Pieck then reached down to your swollen clit using her hand that was holding her upper body up to rub it. Any second now you could come. “Nggh-- ah- may I come, please Pieck?” You asked, moaning out even more now. Both of you moving faster, Pieck finally spoke out “Go-Go ahead darling.-ah-” You instantly came right as she said, “Go ahead.” Pieck was still grinding her heat on you, letting you ride out your high.

Aftercare!!!!

“There you go, baby. Let me help you up on your feet.” Pieck said. She assisted you onto your feet, legs still slightly wobbling from the after-effects of your orgasm. After you finished she had gone to prepare a bath for just the both of you. You loved how affectionate and considerate she was. You both got into the bathroom. She helped you slip into the bathtub, sitting down after. She then followed along. ~ Pieck was washing your back saying, “Was everything okay and to your liking today?” “Of course it was, you were so soft with me I valued every moment of it.” You said, veering around your head towards her and putting on a soft smile. “Let's get you washed up and we can both cuddle on the bed. How's that sound love?” Pieck said. “Lovely.”

[livinginmystars]

L.O.V - Their s/o wearing an oversized sweater

A small reaction where they find their small s/o wearing a sweater that is way too big on them~

y/n -> your name e/c -> eye color h/c -> hair color

≺⋅⋅⋅≻

Dabi

Dabi would legit love seeing you with this type of clothes

If anything, once he spots the sweater, he strongly hopes prays that you are either wearing shorts underneath it or no pants at all

After a while, you'd notice how his eyes would not leave your body when actually do

This man would be openly staring at your legs with no shame and if anything, he'd brag about how hot you and how you're his

Whenever you decide to go to him during the night so you two would share his bed (which happens so often it's almost every night) you'd always dress up with an oversized sweater so you can be comfortable. This night would be no exception as you snuck into his room while making sure to meet as few people as possible. He was about to try and sleep when he'd hear the sound of the door, raising his head to check who it is. A pleased smile comes onto his lips when he sees it's you.

"Oh? Does someone want some heat to keep warm?" He asks, knowing very well that even just the heat of his body makes sleeping with him the most comfortable experience, especially when it's cold.

"Hm, not just heat. You too." You'd respond before slipping under the covers next to him. "I want to make sure I have the best pillow to sleep with."

Dabi would scoff at your answer and roll his eyes as he calls you a flirt. He'd feel how you move around to settle against his body as much as you can. Feeling in a mood to cuddle him a much a possible, you'd hook your leg a little high around his waist, nuzzling your face into his neck. It's when his hand lands on your thigh that he lets out another pleased sound, feeling your bare skin under his fingers.

"So, I even get a bonus tonight." He jokes around, placing one hand on your thigh while the other goes under your oversized sweater. "If I can't fall asleep now it'll be your fault." He whispers right in your ear, voice low and gravely.

"How about you keep it in your pants for one night?" You tease, deciding to simply settle for the night, ready to go to sleep.

Dabi would chuckle, his hand gently rubbing your stomach while using his quirk a little in order to keep you warm. In the end, he'd only hold you close, leaning his head onto yours with a satisfied smile. Neither you or him would move at all, way too comfortable to try and get away from each other. And even if you wanted to, your tangled limbs would make it complicated to do so.

Tomura Shigaraki

As someone who also wears sweaters every once in a while, he definitely understands why you'd like them

Shigaraki would know you wear them when you want to be comfortable so he'd never complain

However, if he spots you with an oversized sweater, he's most likely to want you as a pillow because in those big clothes, you'd look like a big fluffy pillow.

He'd probably be coming back either from a training or something else, looking more tired than usual. Obviously, he'd come straight to you, only wanting to get some alone time with his significant other. He'd ask the other members of the League where you are and Toga would be quick to tell him you're in his own room but not without that smirk that says she believes there is more to it.

"You really have to do something with that mind of yours." He'd complain to her and leave the room, not sparing a glance at her and instead heading towards his own.

He'd obviously hear the teenager complain to him, not that it would stop him and he'd do his best to ignore the noise. Shigaraki would end up in his room in a minute or two, starting to look for you right away. It wouldn't be too complicated considering that you'd be laying on his bed, holding his pillow in your arms and only dressed with an oversized sweater. Understanding that you're napping, Shigaraki wouldn't say anything, simply walking closer to the bed, a small smile coming onto his face.

However, as stupid as it sounds, he frown at how you look like you're cuddling his pillow and the man would immediately want to replace it. He'd slowly but surely grab onto the pillow and pull it away from your grip. Once certain that it's out of your reach, he puts it down as you stir a little, being pulled away from your sleep. One of your eyes would be half open as Shigaraki comes to lay down next to you, placing his head onto your stomach.

"Hm?" You'd let out a confused noise, feeling the weight on your body as well as the grip around you. "Shiggy...?"

"It's me." He mumbles, letting out a sigh when your hands slip into his hair and his eyes close, feeling a wave of calming go through his body. "You can go back to sleep. I'm not moving any time soon."

A confused noise would pass your lips but as you're still half asleep and you feel his body closely laid against yours. The contact and warmth lulls back into a peaceful slumber in the matter of seconds as you close your eyes again. Shigaraki, on the other hand would nuzzle his face against the fabric of your sweater, finding comfort in your presence and somehow also in the touch of the clothes. And no matter how great you looked in normal outfits, he definitely loves the way you feel and look so comfy in these big oversized sweaters.

[phoenixyfriend]

I personally would *really* like to know more about Mace's intro to General Obi-Wan, and how Anakin and Obi-Wan interact in the mind space now. That's got to be so weird, right? Though I bet it's VERY useful when the kids are having some emotion or issue that they can't quantify or explain, or that they don't want to explain: ask the grownup versions and they'll be able to say what's going down. But I mean, in mind-space does OW & A's relationship average out into 'very affectionate (cont)

(cont) brothers who are *very* invested in each other's well being? (They can have the Dad conversation of 'please eat your veggies' from EITHER direction!) I'm imagining, just, a lot of lounging on each other. Mace is introduced to the older versions via meditation and the first thing OW does, even before saying hello, is stroll over to A, sit down, throw his legs across his lap and lean into his side. Also, imagine A coming to OW for advice in meditation, and Ben going to A for advice IRL.

My favorite part of the Jedi Babies AU is what adult!Obi-Wan's relationship with Anakin is like in the meditation-area, is what I'm saying. Followed by how the mini-versions of Soka and Ben act out in real space. The whole thing with them very seriously researching local law so they can hold accurate trials with their stuffed animals was adorable, and I loved how foreboding and mystic Ahsoka came off in the Dooku conversation.

I went back and re-read a bunch of the Jedi babies posts and I have to admit, this: "He gets headaches if he tries to think like an adult for too long, so he shifts between “Master Kenobi, helping Anakin figure out how to fix the world” and “literal child who just wants a nap and cuddles.”" actually probably answers all of my questions and means that adult!OW's relationship with Anakin is probably much the same, just. Still with more cuddles. And prob. with better communication/ less criticism.

OKAY SO (human) babies are like. Wired to require human contact. It's a chemical thing. If you hold a baby, the baby's body will make oxytocin and stuff like that, and the baby will be happy!

(And also not die. Babies can absolutely die without enough physical contact.)

So IRL/waking Soka and Ben are in a position where they constantly crave physical contact, because they are So Damn Young. Obviously, the main provider of that contact is Anakin, and each other, and Shmi, so they're pretty quickly accustomed to being really, really tactile with 'Dad.'

This transfers to the adult shared mindspace, in that they're so used to hugs and cuddles with Anakin that they all just kind of... drift together. The shaping of that physical contact isn't the same, for a variety of reasons, but there's a lot of leaning against each other, Soka lying down with her head in someone's lap, Anakin and Ben making sure their shoulders touch when they sit down, etc. When meeting Mace, they sit so that Anakin's got his arm over Ben's shoulders, which isn't that weird of a position for two adult men who consider each other brothers. They're less tactile, if only because adult General Kenobi can't crawl into Anakin's lap the way the kid version can, but there's still skinship and shared body heat and hugs. It's only weird if you remember that the older of them is currently the slightly creepy eight-year-old you met half an hour ago.

They are undeniably family in every manner, though. That part is never in question.

It's a little weird, moreso for Ben than for Soka. She's gone from little sister to daughter, but she's still 'younger female family member, who views Anakin as a loving authority on account of being an older family member.'

Ben's gone from parent to child, and when a solid 98% of his time is spent as the child, but the history is that of being the parent and being the one with advice, it's weird. They still mostly manage to make it work, though, because meeting up in the mindspace is usually done only for strategizing and whatnot, and gets less and less necessary as they get older. Soka's headaches-when-I-try-to-think-with-my-full-history taper off by the time she's about eighteen, physically; she’s actually two years older than she was at the point of time travel, by that point, but she’s got thirty years of memories so her brain needs a wee bit extra time to grow to hold all of it. Ben... I want to say early twenties for him, because he's got so much more to process.

By that point, they're... not quite who they were, but they're not exactly fresh new people, either. It was never a case of whether or not they'd 'meld,' because they were never really separate, just unable to access everything and limited by the wiring they had. As they can process more and more, they think with some of their old methods (e.g. critical thinking on how to assess propaganda, strategy patterns to approach a battlefield, rebuilding habits for lightsaber usage that they remember in theory but don't actually feel natural yet) in tandem with learning new ones from their new environment (e.g. learning Mandalorian battle logic, Tatooine survival priorities).

There's like. A whole thing in my brain about how Mandalorian, Tatooine, Jedi, Coruscanti, and Shili cultural and logic patterns interact.

WORD OF NOTE: I was an international business major who focused on intercultural communications and marketing. I'm thinking about these in terms of like... Hofstede's cultural dimensions and that whole thing where (I can't remember the actual term) a proper sentence in Russian looks like a run-on in English because the way we structure things looks completely different, and the way information is supposed to be presented when written in order for a person to optimally process what they're reading is completely different due to how we're all trained to learn, and when you pair that with the child psychology aspect of also learning new languages with adjusted neuroplasticity while slowly regaining access to full adult memories as time passes in which you have familiar but completely different cultural values that you now have to reconcile with the things you've learned to consider important with the people who are raising you--

I have a lot of thoughts on this sort of thing.

To put it lightly.

[impaladolan]

Home Alone - Grayson Dolan

summary: after a long week of work, y/n needs some sort of relaxation and relief. although, her outlook on relieving her frustrations isn’t what grayson had in mind...

warnings: tid bit fluffy, swearing, vibrator use, & smut

a/n: been in my unfinished drafts for a bit..

"Are you sure you don't want to tag along, baby?" Grayson longingly questioned, his brows crinkled and his lips almost forming a pout.

"I haven't been able to do laundry all week. God knows it won't get done unless I do it now." Y/N chuckles, balancing a full basket of freshly dried clothes on her hip, watching her lover wrap his fist around the front door's handle.

Every other weekend, at the Dolan residences, the two brothers, and sometimes their wives, would gather with some of their friends and watch their favorite football teams. And later on, they'd play board games or watch some movies. Normally, Y/N would be the one begging Grayson to hurry up and get ready to attend the biweekly event, except this time.

Y/N has different plans...

It had been a brutal week at work, her boss was currently taking out her "divorce emotions" on her employees and Y/N was getting the rougher end of it. She was relieved when it was finally the weekend and she could stress clean, calm her nerves in some sort of self efficient way and relax after a tough couple days.

She hadn't even had the thought of a sexual release, until she had dreamt multiple naughty scenarios just last night during her deep slumber. She couldn't exactly pinpoint what all she had dreamed, but she remembers waking up with a dripping arousal and a sore ache at her very center. And though her husband was laid right next to her, perfectly capable of satisfying her womanly needs, she decided using other resources would be a better fit.

Don't get her wrong, she loves being pleasured by the only man who knows exactly how to, but she felt embarrassed. She didn't want to come across as a sex-crazed women to Grayson, even though it would never make a difference to him.

They're married, for goodness sake.

"I can stay back and help out. We could even have our own little movie night if you wanted," He began, releasing his hand from the door and taking a few steps toward Y/N, whose lips turned into a cheesy smile as he drew closer to her.

"Just you and me," He took the basket filled with clothes from her hip and set it on the floor, intertwining his large hands with her smaller ones, eliciting a short laugh from Y/N. He brought her closer to his frontside, creating a ballroom dance-like formation and began shuffling around with her in his arms. Like an old married couple, they slowly danced around the room, him twirling her in his grasp while Y/N admirably gazed upon him.

Her cheeks were rosy with admiration, finding his little act of affection adorable. "You get easily distracted, huh?" Y/N grinned, resting her chin happily on his shoulder, his minuscule beard hairs tickling certain parts of her neck.

"Well, you looked too pretty over here by yourself," He softly explained against her ear. "And I wanted to dance around a room with a beautiful woman like you. So, I am." He lowered his hands beneath her and slew her into a romantic dip, planting a sweet kiss upon her lips. She returned one back, feeling her heart grow two sizes larger, much like the Grinch movie portrays, if anything.

"Grayson, I know how much you enjoy football, especially with the boys," She was only making excuses, but he had tempted her to just cuddle on the couch all day and watch plethoras of movies and munch on various snacks. But the low rattle in the depths her core was motioning her in a different way, and she just couldn't survive the rest of the day without fixing her little problem.

"Hmm, you're right. But when I get back, we're ordering take out and watching movies. Got it?" He chuckles, bringing the both of them back up into a standing position.

"M'hm, be safe." Y/N smiles, planting another kiss on her lover's lips before leaving his warmth. She waved goodbye to him as he left their abode, sweetly grinning as she went back to finishing up the laundry before the real reason she was staying home, would begin.

Though the couple's intimate relations seemed innocent and loving, they each had a different side to them, specifically in the bedroom.

The two never shied away from new experiences and would most certainly dabble into different areas of the "sex world," if you will. They, of course, had their preferences and different kinks, but Y/N seemed to be more open and freeing for that sort of stuff.

For the different occasions that they felt a bit more lustful and yearning for one another, they kept a locked trunk of knickknacks in their closet. You see, that's the one Grayson knows about, but Y/N keeps a smaller one, filled to the brim with all of her own toys, in a section of her closet that he never really pays attention to. If he had any idea that she kept self-pleasuring items for her own uses, he'd be absolutely ballistic.

Thankfully, he doesn't...

The moment Y/N threw the last bits of dirty laundry left, into the washer, she practically sprinted to their shared bedroom. After rummaging through the trunk filled with "accessories," she found a nice, pretty pink vibrator to do the trick, as well as a black silk blindfold to shield her own eyes. She was already rid of her clothes and sprawled across the wide bed in an instance, tying the piece of cloth over her eyes. 

Though, unbeknownst to Y/N, Grayson was already on his way back home. As soon as he had pulled into his brother's driveway, they had called to cancel— a certain emergency about something Grayson didn't really pay attention to listen to. He was thrilled that he didn't have to leave Y/N at home, all by herself to do chores all day. And luckily, their houses weren't too far apart from each other, so Grayson was back home within fifteen minutes of leaving it.

He didn't feel the need to text Y/N, she was probably busy anyway and possibly wouldn't respond. He figured she would hear the garage door open and expect that he was already home.

Little does he know...

As soon as he was parked and out of his vehicle, Grayson was trudging down stairs to the laundry room, in search of Y/N. He was surprised that she wasn't there, but he figured she might just be folding on the couch, trying to get ahead on one of the TV series the two were drawn into.

Grayson chuckles as he makes his way back upstairs, though his brows curtly furrow, his ears almost perking at the muffled sounds coming from the hallway.

Their shared room, to be precise.

With a pondering look upon his face, he kicks off his shoes and makes his way towards his bedroom, quietly twisting the door handle and pushing it inward. He opens the door wide enough to secretly look inside, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness that enveloped the entire expanse. The noises he had heard only seconds ago were more prominent, and his eyes had fallen on the object creating the aroused sounds;

Y/N.

She was laid out on their bed, legs wide open and shaking while her hands were constantly pressuring a fucking sex toy against her soaked pussy. Grayson froze, pure anger washing over him and turning his face a turbulent shade of red, washing away his pleasant mood. He almost stormed in there, ready to rip the stupid machine away from her hands and show her what a real orgasm feels like.

But he somehow contained himself, and instead, watched the scene play out in front of his very own eyes, vexation spilling from his entire countenance.

Y/N didn't hear the garage door open and close, or even the beep of Grayson's truck when he locked it.  She hadn't even heard his feet stomping up and down the stairs, or his lingering chuckles. She was so caught up in how she was feeling.

The artificial vibrations that buzzed upon her core made the world around her so euphoric and heavenly. She'd brush the toy upon her clit, forcing her entire body shake with deep pleasure and a soft moan to emit from her mouth. It felt so nice, and she was so close to the brink of releasing.

She was already feeling better, and naughty. If Grayson were to find her this way, masturbating  freely in the open and satisfying herself, she would never live to see another day. But she didn't care at this point, she just wanted to finally cum.

And she was extremely close.

Her hips began to buckle, while her backside rose from the bed and her free hand twisted at the sheets beneath her. "Mm- just a little more—" Her entire core was pulsating, so fucking close to just letting go.

So close..

"Don't fucking cum yet, slut." Grayson's voice boomed throughout the room, making Y/N's movements freeze in terror and shock. Before she could think of some sort of explanation or reasoning as to what she's doing, her blindfold is ripped from her eyes, while the vibrator that was once nuzzled up on her pussy, was taken away as well. Now, she felt so empty and wanting, edged to an almost release.

"Jesus- You're fucking dripping, for fucksake." His tone was harsh, and Y/N felt like crying. She held onto her tears as she watched him examine the drenched vibrator, still buzzing in his hands. Out of the loss of contact, she began to whine, squeezing her thighs together to create at least a little bit of friction.

"Grayson, please—" She began to huff, but her shuttering voice was interrupted by the aggravated man pacing in front of her.

"I don't think I fucking asked you to talk, did I?" He glared at her, though just the sight of Y/N's exposed body made him shudder with a tinge of want.

Against his wishes, Y/N continued her whines, her breathing still ragged and finally her own hand traveling down to her soaked heat. She didn't care if she'd be in more trouble, she just needed to unravel the knot inside her, whether she'd pay for that mistake later or if not.

She didn't get far, because Grayson caught her wrist before it made it all the way down to her center, and brought it up to the headboard. He wrapped a leather strip around both of her wrists, mumbling incoherent spews of anger, doing the same with her ankles against the bedposts.

"I-I, I thought you were gonna watch football.." She began, but a low growl sounded from Grayson, and the blindfold was placed back over her eyes, while a different type of cloth was shoved in her mouth. Y/N feels the numbing slap across her thigh before hearing the connection's sound, an exasperated scream muffling out of her filled mouth.

"I'd stop talking if I were you. Unless you want to be choked by Daddy’s fucking cock, darling." His voice rattled her insides, and she dared not to make another sound, already dug far too deep in a hole anyway. "Get ready princess, m'gonna edge the fuck out of you. Maybe then, you'll remember to ask me for permission to use your fucking toys." His voice soon faded from her ears as a higher vibration than before was nudged right up against her swollen clit, making her figure convulse in imploding pleasure.

It took an entire hour for Grayson to edge Y/N twelve fucking times. She was a mess, sweat droplets dotting her hairline while her pussy remained in slippery shambles. He didn't say a word, and Y/N held her tongue from shouting profanities after the several losses of contact. She hadn't came yet, but if she didn't soon— she would find a way to get out of her restraints and finish off what she had started herself.

It had been several minutes since Grayson had pulled her to the brink of an orgasm, and she was starting to think that he'd never come back. She had heard the sound of a zipper earlier, and she couldn't tell if he was doing something to ease his own pain while she laid there, so high strung and breathless. She was about to call out his name, but the warmth of his tongue wrapped around her bundle of nerves and she let out an exasperated sigh, pulling on the cuffs tied around her wrists.

He slipped his tongue in skillful motions, his hands pushing up underneath her thighs as he lapped up her liquids. Y/N was so sensitive to touch, anything that remotely stroked her could heighten her arousal and make her lust for more.

Within seconds, her hips were shaking and her back arched above the mattress, her toes curling under the pressure. And his voice finally sang the heavenly words she had been waiting for the entire time;

"Cum, princess."

Y/N released all over his lips, a high-pitched scream sounding from her mouth as she finally unravels, her legs bucking against their restraints. She spits out the cloth from her mouth and heavily breathes, murmuring praises to the man between her legs.

"I'm sorry, Grayson."

a/n: did this completely suck? i haven’t really written in third person in awhile, so i need honest opinions..

[egcdeath]

aunt flo

summary: your monthly friend decides to visit you while staying over at steve’s.

word count: 1.5k

pairing: steve rogers x reader 

warnings: periods (so blood as well), awkward situations

a/n: this is definitely inspired by the *ahem* cycle that is currently plaguing me. it also hasn’t been thoroughly edited as this was the first time in a while that i’d written something, and i wanted to share it with you all as soon as possible! i hope you enjoy <3 

Sleeping over at Steve’s apartment was never a bad experience for you. He seemed to always be completely prepared for what the night would entail, whether it be a plethora of snacks, or your favorite scent of lotion.

However, when you woke up in what felt like a pool of your own blood, saying you were alarmed was a bit of an understatement. You mentally cursed at yourself for not realizing ahead of time that your cycle was set to start any time that week, and the fact that you’d bled all over your boyfriends sheets.

You attempted to slip out of Steve’s grasp and out of bed to assess the damage done in both your underwear, and on the bed. Once you were finally standing on the floor and gawking at the red spot in bed, you rubbed your forehead exasperatedly. While it wasn’t as bad as you’d expected, it certainly wasn’t good. The quarter sized blood stain seemed to be glaring back to you, and you decided to glare back at it before heading into the en-suite.

Before plopping yourself down on the toilet, you searched through cupboard upon cupboard for some sort of period product. Behind the mirror: aftershave, Advil, bandaids, a random bar of soap, nothing you could use. Under the sink: Epsom salt, your favorite body wash, an extra bottle of shampoo, but not a tampon in sight. Above the toilet: a few rolls of toilet paper, yet nothing even resembling a pad.

Seeing as Steve seemed pretty prepared for anything related to you, you were more than a bit surprised that he hadn’t considered that you were a menstruating human. You huffed as you sat down on the toilet, then assessed the damage control you’d need to do. First and foremost, you needed something to protect the rest of Steve’s apartment from your uterine lining. After you figured that out, you desperately needed to get that stain out of your boyfriend's sheets before he’d notice.

Maybe you could order some pads from a grocery store to his apartment. That seemed like a safe bet, but Steve would probably become concerned if he realized you’d been in the bathroom for 45 minutes. Perhaps you could just leave without a word to Steve. But that raises the issue of a random blood stain, and possibly, an upset Steve.

“Think, Y/N, think,” you muttered to yourself. You attempted to brainstorm more options for yourself, but ultimately ended up dozing off, and waking up to the soft rapping against the bathroom door, along with the sound of Steve’s voice.

“Sweetheart, everything okay in there? You’ve been in there for a while, and I saw some blood on the bed. Did you hurt yourself?”

You mentally cursed at yourself, at least now you’d only have to worry about obtaining a pad, and not addressing the mess on the bed.

“Oh yeah, I’m completely fine. Actually, I should probably head home,” you attempted to sound convincing, but didn’t exactly hit the mark.

“Are you sure? I thought we were gonna get brunch together this morning.”

You could’ve sworn you heard the frown in Steve’s voice. “Oh, uh, I’m not super hungry right now.”

“Okay, that’s fine. But about that blood, what happened? Are you alright?” He questioned.

“I’m fine, Steve.”

“Did the headboard scratch you? Did I sleep fight you or something? Did you hit your leg on the nightstand again?”

“Jesus Steve,” you scoffed a bit at the overload of questions. “I just started my period. And you have nothing I can use here, so I need to go home. That’s why there’s blood in your bed, and that’s why I’ve been in here all morning.”

“Doll, you should’ve told me! I’ll go get you something, okay?” He opened the door just a crack, and blew you a kiss. “Just stay right where you are. I’ll be back quicker than you can say period. There’s medicine behind the mirror, and I can grab you my heating pad before I go. Maybe taking a shower would help t-“

“Steve,” you giggled. “That’s plenty. Now go get my shit so I can stop bleeding all over the place.”

“Got it. I love you,” he smiled warmly at you before closing the door softly, and heading out.

—

Steve basically sprinted to his nearest convenience store, getting lost in the feminine hygiene section, then finding himself completely at loss with what he was supposed to buy. There were just too many options. He considered calling you to ask what you need, but he didn’t want to bother you more than necessary. Plus, you could be standing in the shower right now, and what if you heard your phone ringing, tried to get out of the shower to answer, and slipped? The thought of you hurting yourself made Steve shudder.

He ended up settling on three different varieties of pads and tampons. If you didn’t need them, he could always donate them to a local shelter. He then stopped by the candy aisle to grab you some dark chocolates (he’d heard in passing that it was good for menstruating women), along with a package of panties that looked like they could be your size, before hopping in line at a register.

In the midst of Steve’s menstruation mania, he failed to notice a random customer snapping a photo of him with the over abundance of women’s hygiene products. He was much more busy with checking out and getting back to you as fast as humanly possible.

——

Once Steve made it back to his apartment, he found you still in the bathroom, surrounded by a light mist of fog from the shower, and clad in an oversized sweatshirt with a faded SHIELD logo.

“I didn’t know what to get you, so I got you everything,” Steve blushed at his own unpreparedness, then passed you the bags of period products. “I’m gonna go change the sheets. When you’re ready, just meet me in bed, okay?” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before leaving the bathroom, letting you handle your business.

——

A breakfast-in-bed and movie marathon later, you were still cuddled up in Steve’s bed, his massive body giving you an extra level of warmth that was soothing your cramps like nothing you’d ever witnessed before. You were probably more comfortable than you’d ever been. Except for the incessant vibrating of your phone on the bedside table.

You’d finally reached out for it, and were pretty shocked to see all of the messages you’d received. You opened the first message from one of your closest friends, and your eyebrows raised as you read it.

LMAO read this right now bitch

enews.com/caps-pad-problem

Curiosity got the best of you, so you opened up the article.

#Padgate?

If you've been anywhere on the internet in the last few  hours, you’ve certainly seen the word “padgate” trending. The reason why is more interesting than you’d think.

Early this morning, Captain America, America’s sweetheart was spotted buying out the entirety of the feminine hygiene section of his local convenience store.

From this, a huge question rises. Is he donating? There’s certainly enough pads and tampons to keep an army of women satisfied for a year. Is he seeing someone? She must be some lucky gal.  Either way, when we thought this man couldn’t get any more lovable- he did!

You blushed while reading the article, not exactly sure how to feel. After letting it simmer in your brain for a second, you began to giggle, deciding that more than anything, it was pretty damn funny. You texted a quick message back to your friend who’d sent the article, then finally began to speak to Steve, who was giving you a bit of a confused look at your giggling.

“Steve, you goof. Someone took a picture of you buying all of that period stuff, and now the internet has gone wild.”

“What? Let me see,” he reached for your phone, and you gladly passed it to him. He skimmed over the article, then furrowed his brows. “Tony and the PR department are never going to let me live this down,” he groaned.

“Don’t be so dramatic, maybe something good will come out of this!” You chided, giving him a mischievous grin.

——

As it turns out, the word good is subjective.

It’d been about a month post-padgate, and you’d been strolling through the store with Steve, working on getting your groceries for the week.

As you entered the wellness aisle, you looked at the shelves containing menstrual products, knowing that you needed to restock sooner than later.

When you first saw what you saw, you had to do a complete double take. Your eyes must’ve been deceiving you.

A Tampax box stared back at you, a logo with a shield containing a star clearly defined on the box, along with the text ‘Captain America approved!’

“No way,” you actually laughed out loud at the sight. “Steve!” you grabbed onto his sleeve, and pulled him in the direction of the box so he could see what you were seeing.

“No way!” He reprised. “Oh my God. I’m really never gonna live this down, am I?”

[ramp-it-up]

Cuddle Buddies

Pairing: Roommate! Rafael Casal x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Minors DNI, RPF, angst, cursing, pining, jealousy, suggestive language, butt slapping, fluff! No smut!  All errors my own. I apologize if you like the smell of patchouli, lol.

A/N: This is an answer to the following ask from @teatro-dira :

Okay so I don't know if this is kinda weird but like an Rafael x reader were they are like really cuddly(like a lot of hugs, cuddling and stuff) friends and roommates and everyone teases them asking them if they're dating. Then Rafael gets a girlfriend which makes y/n lowkey feel betrayed and jealous, but he doesn't realize that. Y/n accidentally ruins their relationship(you chose how). They get into a fight, but it ends in fluff. Hope you understand what I mean:)

Here it goes! I hope you like it!

———-

A series of unfortunate events led you to this situation six months ago.

You were subletting Rafael’s apartment in Santa Monica when production wrapped a month early on his project in Vancouver. He had nowhere to go, and neither did you, so you agreed to share the space.

You vibed, almost as much as he and Daveed did. Folks began to call you the fourth Muskateer, for as much as you, Rafa, Daveed and his girl were always together. 

You all talked, smoked, and created together. You and Rafa especially were always all over each other, keeping each other warm under blankets on the couch, watching movies while you ran your fingers through his hair, in one or another’s bed watching videos, or writing in tandem. 

It was all good, cause Rafa was being a man-whore at the moment with several ladies, and you were just chilling. It was dope. 

Almost.

It would have been all the way dope, except...

Except for the fact that you were in love with Rafa.

You loved sharing the same space with him, because you could smell him when he just got out of the shower, play in his silky hair, and feel his strong arms around you. And when he wore grey sweats…. Damn.  You and your little bullet celebrated every time that happened.

Everyone could tell, except for Rafael.  People ragged on you two so hard, that you vehemently denied it every time, to the point of getting heated.

One night, you side eyed the teaser through a cloud of smoke after catching Rafa’s grimace when they said you two should get together.  Your mood sank at what you perceived was rejection.

“I would NEVER get with Rafa, that’s the homie.  He’s like a brother to me. Ugh. Getting with my brother? No way. We’re just Cuddle Buddies.”

Rafa blinked and then took a toke.

“Exactly, we the homies. Platonic Ride or Dies.  It’ll never happen.”  He passed what he was holding and then stood up. “Cuddle Buddies till the end.”  He sounded disgusted.

“I’m going to go get some food. I’m hungry. What does everyone want?”  After everyone yelled out their orders, you offered to come with.

“Nah, sis.  I’m good.  Gonna clear my head. I’ll be back soon.  Rafa peaced out and you sat back down with the crew.

-------

Ever since that night, Rafa seemed a little distant.  He was always busy, and never had time to sit and kick it with you the last couple of weeks.  You all never seemed to link.

One night, he was home when you came in with groceries.

“Oh shit, I didn’t know that you’d be here!” You put the groceries down on the counter while Rafa was at the stove, cooking up some pasta with marina.

“Mmmmmm. Smells good!” You went and stood very close to him, expecting him to give you a side hug, at least.

He just turned and glanced at you, a smirk lifting one side of his face.

“Will you never learn to keep an umbrella in the car? You always come in soaking wet from the rain.”

Here he was, shaking his head that you didn’t have enough sense to come in out of the rain.  How could this talented genius ever want to be with you?

You just played it off, as usual. “I’m starving. I didn’t think I would make it through cooking, but you’re always clutch, Rafa!” 

Rafa stood there and gaped at you.

“Uhhhhh… I thought you said you were driving down to the Vista to see your mom… I have someone coming over for dinner....”

“No.  She’s decided to go on a cruise to Cabo with her bestie… she just called and told me as she was boarding the ship this afternoon.  The hussy. Tryna be fast with her little friends.”  You laughed.

“So, who’s coming over?  UTK? Wayne? Jimmy?”

You jumped up on the counter and watched as Rafa put some french bread with butter and garlic in the oven.  Smelled like heaven.  Those guys would definitely invite you to stay.

Rafa wiped his hands on the towel that was hanging on the stove. And turned around to face you.

“Her name is Aurora.”

It was like he’d punched you in the gut. He’d NEVER brought one of his heauxes around. You fought the urge to double over, even though you felt nauseous.  When you looked at him, he looked concerned.

“Hey, you okay?”

You jumped down from the counter and quickly nodded your head, laughing weakly.  

“I...uh.. Yeah.  Like I said, I haven’t eaten since breakfast, expecting to be at dinner with my moms by now.”

You grabbed your groceries, putting them up quickly and grabbed an apple, taking it to your room.

“I’m going to get out of your way in a minute, I’ll go over to Carla’s and hang with her tonight. We’ll probably go out and do what we do, you know?”

Rafa still looked worried.

“Are you sure you’re ok? You need more than an apple. Look, stay…”

“NO!”  Your voice was raised and it startled you.  “I mean, I’m not one to be a cock blocker.  I’ll just get my stuff and get ready to go.”

Rafa just watched as you scurried into your room. Why did you feel like crying?  Why did you feel as if you would never breathe properly again?  You got out your phone and called Carla.

20 minutes later, you exited your room dressed for the club with your overnight bag.  There was a strange smell in the room, and it wasn’t pasta.  It was patchouli.  You HATED patchouli.

You didn’t realize you were giving the gas face until Rafa came out of the kitchen followed by a short, but cute woman, with a body like, whoa. 

Of course.

Rafa glared at you and you fixed your face.  That bestie telepathy was on point. Then he looked up and down, as if he were judging your freakum dress.  Well, fuck him.

“Oh, hey!  Y/N, this is Aurora.  Aurora, Y/N.”

Aurora ignored your outstretched hand and went in for a hug. 

“Y/N!  I’ve heard so much about you that I feel like I know you intimately, just like Rafael.”  

You tried to keep your face straight in reaction to her scent, then gave her a sideye. 

Was it the inept way she rolled the ‘R’ in Rafael, or the thinly veiled shot at your relationship? Either way, you felt like slapping the shit out of her. You looked at Rafa, but then just cleared your throat.

“And I’ve heard so much about you as well.  You’re all Rafa talks about.” He shook his head behind her.  “Nice to meet you, but I’m headed out for the night.”

It was then that Aurora saw your bag and brightened up.  

“Oh!  You do look nice. Are you leaving, you sure you don’t want to stay?”  

You could smell insincerity a mile away. Even patchouli couldn’t cover that up. You just smiled at her.  

“No ma’am.  I’ve got places to see and people to do.”  You winked at them as you walked out of the door, holding up your umbrella.  “Stay dry y’all.”

You made it out the door without crying of jack slapping that little bitch or Rafa.  You were winning.  

But why did it feel like you’d lost everything?

-----

You and Rafa successfully avoided one another for days.  He was either over Aurora’s or you were with Carla, your mom, or just stayed in your room.

One time you passed Rafa and Aurora on the couch watching a movie on your way to the kitchen to get something to eat.  Rafa’s head was in her lap.

You stopped dead in your tracks when you heard Rafa’s slightly raised voice say: “Don't’ mess with the swoop, Babe.”

‘Babe.’ He called her Babe. That’s it. It was time for you to go. 

You were cramping Rafa’s style.  You just tiptoed back in your room, making little to no noise so that they could watch the movie in peace. You didn’t see Rafa looking at your door after you went in.

----

A week later, you let Rafa know your move out date.

“Wait. What?”

Rafa’s mouth was open. You repeated yourself.

“Well, I’m going to move in with Carla. She’s going to let me ride her couch until this other place comes open in three weeks. It’s a sweet deal, near the studio….”

Rafa’s mind was racing, you could see the gears turning.

“Well… why don’t you just stay here until then, we got a good thing going.” He looked upset. What was up with him?

“Rafa… I’m just in the way.  You’ve got Aurora…”

“Hold up, wait.  We aren’t even that serious.  I mean, I just stopped seeing Bev and Chrissy. He looked at his watch. Last week.”

You laughed at Rafa’s fuckboi ways.  “Well, what about me? I might want to date someone and bring them over…”

Rafa’s face changed.

“Bring someone over here…”

But it didn’t sound like an invitation, it sounded like a threat.  

It was your turn to stare at Rafa.  “What the hell…?”

He straightened up.  “I mean, any of your guests are welcome here.”

You sighed and shook your head. 

“See what I mean? Things are getting tense, I want us to stay friends, not be tight with each other all the time.”

Rafa grinned.  “You said ‘tight.’”  He dodged a couch pillow thrown at his head.

“What are you, a 12 year old?”  You were rolling.  He really was one of your best friends.  But you needed space to get over yourself.  And him.

“Okay.  You grown.  But just know that you don’t have to go.  And know that I will miss the hell out of you.”  

Rafa came over to hug you, and he held you longer than normal, and then kissed the top of your head.  You looked up at him, still in his arms and it was like…

You cleared your throat.  “Well, I guess I better go start to pack.”

Rafa stepped back.  “Ok.”

Both of you hurried to your perspective rooms.

-----

One night, a couple of days later, Rafael came into your room without knocking.

“What did you say to Aurora?”

You were laying on your stomach on your phone, in just your t-shirt an panties.  You rolled over and looked at him. 

“What are you talking about?”

Rafa wasn’t yelling, but he was keyed up.

“What did you tell her the last time you talked?”

You put your head down to think, then brought it back up. 

“I just said that I was going to miss playing in your hair when we watched movies, that I knew it was your favorite thing.”

Rafa nodded, then shook his head.  

“Y/N, you’re the only one I let touch my hair.  Aurora has barely been allowed near it.”

“That’s…. New.”  You were perplexed.

“No it isn’t. Everyone knows I don’t like people messing with my hair.  Aurora accused me of having feelings for you.”

You were sitting up now, crossing your arms and standing before Rafa.

“That’s ridiculous.”

Rafa looked like he was about to explode. He threw his hands up in the air and walked out of your room.

“OF COURSE IT IS! RIDICULOUS!”  He was really agitated.

“Yeah, I know all too well that you think it's ridiculous for me to want to be with you.  I don’t know what makes you think I’m not good enough for you?”

“Good enough for ME?  You’re the one running around with all the model/actress types, you’re the one who thinks I’m beneath you.  You said so that one night when you said we were ‘Platonic Ride or Dies.’”

“Here we go! Total distortion! Did you hear what you said before I said that?  You said I was like your brother.  Your brother.  You think it’s that disgusting to be with me.”

“I just said that because you made a face when what’s her face said we should be together.”

“I made that face because I was imagining fucking your brains out.  It was probably my cum face.”

You stopped and stared at him, mouth hinged open.

“The fuck?”  You burst out laughing.  “You are mad outta pocket Rafa.” Rafa was rolling too.  “But you ain’t gotta lie.”

Rafa stopped laughing.  

“Why do you think I’m lying?”

He was moving closer to you. This felt… dangerous. He looked up and down your body, and it was the first time you felt uncomfortable being comfortable around Rafa.

“Because you told me that you wanted to just be Cuddle Buddies a month after you came back from Canada. You drew a line in the sand.”

Rafa shook his head at you and smiled, green-blue eyes twinkling. 

“I knew you were too zooted.  I shouldn’t have tried to shoot my shot.”

“Run that back for me?”  You couldn’t believe what he was saying right now.

“What I said was..I wanted to be Cuddie buddies. Cuddie is… you know…”  

He pointed to your crotch.

You looked down, and then up at him again. “I can’t with you Rafa….” 

Rafa tilted his head in that sexy way at you. 

“Can you really not?” 

You were stunned.  Rafa continued.

“But I’m serious. When you came back with ‘Cuddle Buddies,’ I thought you were blowing me off and just wanted to be friends. So, I just settled into the friend zone.”

“Do you mean you’re attracted to me? Rafa, that’s funny as hell. You want me for my body?”

Rafa raised his eyebrows at you. “Hell yeah. C’mon girl. You know you’re fine.” 

Your cheeks heated up. You stared at him for what must have been a solid minute.  The possibilities of this alternate reality where Rafa liked you like you liked him opened up.

“But, Rafa... I don’t wanna be just cuddie buddies.”

“Oh. Ok, Cool….” Rafa cleared his throat and looked everywhere but at you.

“I want your heart.” 

Rafa paused when he heard that and his face fell as he moved toward you.  He took your arms in his hands.

“Y/N I'm sorry, I can't give you my heart.”

It was your turn to pick up your face.

“’Cause you already have it.” 

His mischievous grin made your stomach flip.  But you were mad.

“Fuck you, Rafa.” You were laughing with happiness, despite him playing too much.

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me twice.” Rafa swooped down and threw you over his shoulder. “I’ve been waiting six months for that invitation.”  

You were trying to kick and scream. 

Raa swatted you on the ass, then smoothed his hand over the cheek that stung.

“The more you struggle, the more you’ll be begging me to stop in a few.”

You struggled some more, but he made it to your bedroom and deposited you on the bed.  He glared down at you, all sexy green-eyed god.

“Try me, Y/N.”

You reached for the drawstring on his sweats.

“If you insist, Rafael.”

-----

Taglist:

@braidedchallah @theatrenerd86 @sebastianabucknettastan @imatyoursurrvicesurr @riiyy @lonelydance @jbrizzywrites @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @anh1020 @sillyteecup @ohsoverykeri @theselilwonders @biafbunny @summerofsnowflakes @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @janthonybitch @curlyhairclub

[milenadaniels]

Carve It Into Stone, 1574 words - Buck/Eddie + Chris, Sleepy Sickfic

(AO3 link)

Caught in the rhythm of routine, Eddie remembers a few moments too late that he’s meant to be entering quietly when he gets home from work. Or: a self-indulgent Buck and Chris napping together fic because of this post.

Caught in the rhythm of routine, Eddie remembers a few moments too late that he’s meant to be entering quietly when he gets home from work. The deadlock has already been turned but, wincing, he slides his key back out gently and palms the doorknob deliberately to prevent the familiar squeaks from reverberating through the house.

Once inside, he guides his duffel bag to the floor, not letting the strap clatter down as he usually would, and takes care as he bends down to unlace his boots and toe them off before padding into the living room, following the low sounds of the television.

On Thursday, Abuela asked for help figuring out the new tax software she wanted to use this year — it was very user friendly but she was very much in her 80s — and instead of subjecting Christopher to an entire afternoon and evening of boredom, Eddie asked Buck to pick him up from school and hang out until he could join them. He hadn’t known at the time that Christopher was sent home with a note saying he’d been sniffly and should be kept home until he felt better: new protocols in the mid/post-COVID-19 world.

Buck immediately got him a rapid test for COVID-19 and it was ruled out, and it didn’t present like a flu, it was just a hell of a cold. Mild fever, runny nose, body aches — the works. And Buck, who had been exposed for hours at its peak transmission period, did not escape it. Which made it handy when Eddie needed a sitter on Friday and Buck naturally had to call in sick himself.

Buck was sending him text updates all throughout his shift but they stopped suddenly a couple hours ago, so Eddie is not at all surprised to find them both out for the count.

Still, he’s not prepared to take in the sight of Buck stretched on his back, somehow fitting his 6’2 frame between each arm rest, and Christopher tucked snugly along his side, more on top of him than in the wedge between Buck’s body and the back of the couch. One of Buck’s hands is curled up by his face, while his other arm is holding Christopher to him as if there was a risk of falling. Christopher’s arm is tucked into his chest, and his head is resting against Buck’s collarbone, nearly tucked right under his chin and Eddie…

Eddie pauses.

He pauses and grapples with this picture of strength and fragility juxtaposed and blended together. Buck, built for strength and power, tenderly cradling his young son. Both of them unstoppable forces of energy and unrestrained joy, both cast down together by germs they just have to weather.

Both of them here, recovering together, safe under Eddie’s roof, under Eddie’s watch now.

He feels suddenly like he’s walked blindly into a moment in the course of his life whose significance he can’t yet pinpoint and he thinks if he just stays here, quiet, still, he might be able to reach out and understand it.

Christopher’s glasses are on the table nestled between a tissue box and two empty glasses of water, indicating one of them knew they were headed towards an extended nap before they settled in and somehow that detail tugs at his heart fiercely. To imagine Buck watching Christopher get sleepier and sleepier, carding his fingers through his curls fondly, and gently lifting his glasses off to make him more comfortable. Was he already settled against Buck by then? Or were they sitting upright until Buck started to lose his own battle with fatigue and rearranged them like this? Indulging both their need for cuddles when they’re feeling low?

It doesn’t matter, but Eddie wishes fiercely that he knew.

They’re both breathing easily enough, like most of the congestion has lifted, though he can tell by the amount of crumpled up tissues that missed the trash can Buck must have brought into the living room that they had a hell of a day with it. Their cheeks are a little flushed with fever still, and Eddie wants to check but doesn’t dare touch them for fear of disturbing them.

Instead, he takes in their pale skin, their dark curls, and their unguarded faces in sleep and marvels for the hundredth time at how improbable it is that they could look so alike and how strangely happy he is about it. By now he’s used to the guilt that accompanies this thought, and as always, spares a thought to Shannon, but then he lets himself linger on it like he doesn’t usually have the luxury of doing.

Usually their similarities strike him at the worst times: when he turns around in line to catch them making faces and laughing at being caught, and Eddie has to pretend to be grumpy and turn back around to play into their game; when they’re ordering ice cream and Eddie asks for strawberry and they both turn to look at him with identical expression of disappointment because fruit isn’t a treat even if it’s fake fruit; when he has to take a call from Carla as they’re walking into the museum and catches up to Buck and Chris just in time to hear the ticket taker say “you and your dad have fun!” because she has eyes and anyone on Earth would have assumed the same. These are moments Eddie has to let lie and move on from quickly. Moments he only gets to revisit when he’s laying in bed at night, trying to conjure up the visuals exactly as they were to reproduce the tightening in his chest he keeps experiencing, but failing every time.

But now, here, he can linger.

No, he can do more than linger.

Moving slowly as if any sudden movement could break this tranquility, Eddie slips his phone out of his pocket and double-taps the power button to bring up the camera.

He takes a single, wide-view shot of the whole couch, and admires it for a moment.

Then he zooms in on their sleeping faces and takes two more.

Three new pictures to add to the overflowing folder of pictures that will never go on Instagram.

He quickly sends Carla the wide-view shot because he feels the need to share what he’s come home to and she’s the only safe option. The only one who won’t read more into it than Eddie’s comfortable addressing.

Though if Eddie’s being truthful, he knows she’s just the only one who’ll keep it to herself until he’s ready to hear it.

Carla sends back three red hearts, and Eddie can’t help but agree.

He slips his phone back into his pocket and makes room to sit on the coffee table.

Buck’s hand is right there, open, palm facing up, waiting.

Eddie reaches for his shoulder instead, though he slips up and instead of jostling him gently like he meant to, his hand curves around his shoulder and his thumb glides back and forth against his shirt until Buck is snuffling and blinking awake.

“Hey,” Eddie says, smiling when Buck remains half-asleep, his body as relaxed as it was in sleep.

“Hey,” he croaks, gently clearing his throat and casting a nervous eye to Christopher who makes nothing of the disturbance.

“How are you feeling?”

Buck seems to mentally assess himself. “Fine, just crazy tired. Our little man here was a trooper, but he conked out a couple hours ago. Aw, shi--oot,” he looks at the television, “I was supposed to pause it when he fell asleep. I don’t remember which episode we were on.”

Eddie smiles. “He probably won’t even remember the episodes you did watch. You can start over when you’re both back on your feet.”

“Mm,” Buck hums, his eyelids already growing heavier again. “‘K.”

Eddie watches sleep take over Buck, until those tired lids are pried apart suddenly with mild alarm.

“D’you want m’to put him to bed?” Buck slurs. “Be more comfortable?”

Eddie shakes his head with a fond smile. “He’s just fine where he is.”

Buck’s eyes grow vulnerable in a way he’s been trying to hide lately when he’s in full control of his faculties, and the corner of his lips tugs up into a shy smile.

“Go back to sleep,” Eddie says, his voice pitched low to be soothing.

Buck obeys and within a couple of minutes his face is slack and peaceful, his breathing evened out, but some stray impulse shifts his hand away from his face and off the couch entirely to hang in the space between them.

Can Eddie really be faulted then for taking it in his hands and holding on for just a second — feeling the slight heat from the fever seep into his skin, feeling the curl of mildly calloused fingers against his, feeling the weight of it between his palms and deciding that he likes it, a lot?

He guides Buck’s hand back to its original resting place and doesn’t give in when his fingers want to explore the ungelled curls resting against his forehead.

He lingers, again, just one more time, and lets the knowledge that Carla’s talk will likely be coming sooner rather than later wash over him.

And by the way he only barely makes it to the kitchen before thumbing open his gallery and reviewing the three pictures he took, he figures he may just be ready for it.

[moldisgoodforyou]

the screenplay

hello i am splitting these up tried to put them together but wasn't working

one scene wonder !!

wordcount: 2k short n sweet

________

Sophie had been begging for months now to see the project Rafe had been working on for one of his classes, especially with how often he added to it. He was constantly jotting down notes in his phone when he thought of something to add - at dinner, when they were hanging out, or the second he’d wake up. He’d always shift to the side whenever she tried to peer over and see the screen, nudging her aside.

All she knew was that it was for his screenwriting class in his minor that he took in the spring, and she swore she’d never seen him so invested in school before. He kept editing it after the class finished, working on it a little throughout the summer, but finished it before he went out to see Sophie in Spain.

When they were back to school in mid-August, she’d mainly forgotten about it - until the end of the month, when he strolled into her room and dropped a bound stack of papers on her desk.

She glanced up from her planner, confused. “Hello to you too, Rafe Cameron. Did I know you were coming over?”

“No, I invited myself. It’s done.”

“It?” She picked up the papers and read the first page. It read “UNTITLED,” BY RAFE CAMERON. Once she realized, she lit up, grinning at him. “Is this what I think it is?”

He flopped onto her bed and locked his fingers behind his head, glancing over with a grin. “Dunno, what do you think it is?”

“Your screenplay? Can I read it?”

“Yeah. Go ahead. It’s only twenty minutes or so, just a short film, so don’t expect too much, but.” He shrugged. “You can read it.”

She beamed and moved to the bed to read, facing the opposite of him. As she read, he was buzzing with nervous anticipation, trying to look over when she laughed or grinned at the page, or when she bit her lip - she’d just nudge him away to finish it. When she finished, setting the papers down, she raised her eyebrows at him.

“Do you like it? Is it okay?” He asked eagerly.

Sophie beamed, nodding slowly. “It’s familiar.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed at being caught. “Is it?”

“I mean -” She laughed, running her finger over the main girl’s name, Sloane. “If you were trying to be more subtle, you probably wouldn’t have used my middle name here. Where’d the guy’s name come from?” She cocked her head curiously, hoping to make him blush yet again.

“Uh.” He scratched his head, giving her a sheepish smile. “My middle name’s Asher, actually.”

A grin spread across her face, slowly. “You told me you had no middle name.”

“No, you asked if I had a middle name, and I said no. I have two. Asher and Clifford. Clifford’s my mom’s maiden name.” He corrected, fishing out his driver’s license and handing it to her, with Rafe A. C. Cameron on it.

She glanced it over, then glanced back at him with a teasing smirk. “Rafe Asher Clifford Cameron. That is the most pretentious name I’ve ever heard -”

“Hey!” He nudged her shoulder. “Watch it, that’s your boyfriend you’re talking to.”

“My boyfriend, who wrote our love story into a screenplay.” She beamed as he blushed even harder. His character had confessed his crush on the girl to his friends much sooner than she began to give way, something she’d always suspected for a while, but never confronted him about it.

He tapped the bound pages again. “Did you make it to the end? You missed my favorite part.”

“Yeah, I finished reading…” She furrowed her brow and flipped back through to what she thought was the end, then one page further. There was a dedication inscribed to her in the middle of the page: “inspired by a true story. for my favorite.” She bit her bottom lip hard, tearing up a little.

“Oh. Rafe.”

“Is that okay?” He took the screenplay out of her hands, gently setting it aside, and rolled on top of her to kiss her, slow. “I know it’s kind of cheesy, and you don’t really do cheesy. But I figured you played a part in this just as much as I did, so I wanted to give you some credit.”

“It’s perfect.” She reached up and threaded her fingers through his hair, smiling as she kissed him back. “My sweet boy.”

“Keep your voice down, you’ll ruin my rep.” He joked, laughing when she scowled and bit his lip gently in retaliation. “Hey! Hey, play nice.”

“Did you get an A?” She asked, kissing him again with a little more heat behind it. “Can I keep it?”

“Not sure yet. Yeah, I bound that copy for you, it’s all yours.”

“It’s really good, Rafe. I’m serious. I know I don’t know about movies like you do, but the writing, the directions - I’m really impressed.” She complimented, loving the way he looked away out of embarrassment and blushed red. “You only started this in April or something, right?”

“Uh...yeah.” He lied, rolling off of her to look up at the ceiling when she narrowed her eyes to catch him. “Okay, fine. Um, you know that navy journal I carry around? I’ve been writing notes in there.”

“But I’ve seen you with that since last December.” She furrowed her brow, confused. “We didn’t say I love you for months after that.”

He shrugged, casting her a grin as she climbed onto him and pressed her head to his chest, snuggling close. He wrapped his arms tight around her, tracing patterns on her back lightly. “When you know, you know, I guess.”

“You sap.” She accused, poking her finger against her chest. “My character’s a bitch for the whole first quarter of the screenplay, I can’t believe you wrote that in.”

He laughed, tugging gently on the ends of her hair. “Asher argues right back, I guess it’s how you look at it. The character growth is important, though, they can’t just fall in love like that without conflict. Rule number one of storytelling.”

“Are you gonna produce it?”

“The screenplay? Nah. Well, I don’t know, my professor picks two out of the ten and then we produce them in the spring semester. He did, um, encourage me to enter it in some contest for students, so I submitted it recently, but yeah. Doubt he’ll pick it though.” He dismissed himself easily.

“Hey.” She flicked his chest. “Be more confident. I want someone really hot to play me. Like Megan Fox-caliber.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, okay. I’m sure she’s in the film department’s tiny budget.”

“You have money.” She pointed out, smirking, and leaned up to kiss him.

“Not hire-Megan-Fox money. Besides, you’re hotter.” He met her lips first, shifting so his leg fell in between hers.

“We both know that’s not true, baby.” She raised her eyebrows, skeptical.

“It is true. You’re fucking gorgeous.” He kissed her again, hard, smiling against her lips. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. 10/10, would bang.”

“Thanks for the Yelp review.” She giggled and rolled her eyes simultaneously. “For the record, I always thought you were hot, even if you were arrogant and annoying when we were growing up.”

“I’m glad we waited, both of us.” He threaded his fingers through hers and kissed the tip of her nose. “If we had just one hate fuck and then you got over me I think I’d be so sad.”

“You wouldn’t get over me?”

“I haven’t been over you since junior year of high school, sweetheart.” He pointed out, making her blush bright red.

“What happened with Brooklyn then?” She asked point-blank, feeling bold.

He scowled, pressing his hips against hers. “Do we have to talk about her? Because I have other ideas for topics of conversation. Literally anything else.”

“We don’t have to, no. I’m just curious.”

“I dunno. Good timing, I guess. It kind of started out of convenience, knowing both our families would get along, then turned into a little more.” He shrugged, teasing his thumbs over her hip bones and along the hem of her shirt. “Longest mistake of my life.”

“Hey. You didn’t know she was going to end up that way.” Sophie frowned, then her frown gave way to a smug smirk. “It’s fine, I was sleeping around back then anyways -”

“You’ve slept with one other person, Sophie -” He started with an exasperated sigh, laughing when her jaw dropped in indignation. “Technically, your body count is just two.”

“So’s yours!” She retorted, sitting up on top of him and crossing her arms.

“No. Still four.” He corrected. “And I’d like both of ours to stay that way.”

“So that’s a no to a threesome?” She teased, punctuating her question with a roll of her hips.

“If you think I’m letting another person touch you like I get to, you’re delusional.” He scowled, gripping her hips a little tighter to keep her firmly in place. “I don’t even like other guys looking at you at the bar.”

“You’re too jealous.” She chastised with a flip of her hair. “People are gonna look at me. I’m hot. Bangable, in your words.”

“First off, I was joking, and I’m pretty sure I did not say bangable -”

“You absolutely did! Might as well have called me a slut -”

He raised his eyebrows at her teasing tone, unamused. “Why, do you want that? ‘Cause if you do you can just ask.”

“No.” She pouted, moving off of him.

“Where are you going?” He reached out for her, tugging at the hem of her shirt. “C’mere, I want to snuggle.”

She smiled, endeared by the 6’3” boy in her bed asking to cuddle. “Okay. Just that though, we have that dinner reservation soon, the one downtown.”

He grinned when she crawled back into bed. She looped her arm around his waist, spooning him, and he sighed contentedly. “I’m so excited for those fancy drinks.”

“We can make fancy drinks at home, y’know. Just buy the alcohol and we can try it.” She nudged her nose against his neck, making him flinch and wiggle away for a moment.

“Not the same. $18 cocktails in the fancy glasses just hit different.” He flipped over so he was face to face with her and rested his arm over her waist, scratching little circles on her back.

“Mm.” She closed her eyes but gave him a nod. “Are you gonna order a dumb whiskey drink again then drink half my fruity drink?”

“You like whiskey.” He protested. “We were sharing.”

“Free alcohol is free alcohol.” She replied, her voice taking on a sleepy tone. “How fancy do I have to be for this place?”

“You can just throw on a dress.” He continued to scratch her back, loving her little hums of contentment. “We can take a nap before we go. Twenty minutes. You can do eyeliner and lipstick and whatever in the car.”

“Ideal.” She murmured. “Rafe?”

“Yeah, angel?”

“I really love that screenplay. You’re very talented. I mean it.” She squinted one eye open just so she could see his blush and shy smile.

“Yeah, well. I had good inspiration. Thank you, Soph, that means a lot.” He reached out and stroked his thumb over her cheek as he reminded himself how lucky he was to be with her.

“Always my favorite.” She whispered, leaning forward to peck his lips and cuddle closer into him. “I’m gonna sleep.”

“I love you too.” He murmured back. “Sweet dreams.”

taglist: @drewstarkey @lemur46 @jjmaybanksbaby @edgeofgr8 @quxxnxfhxll @obxtess @hoodpankow @vtgirl802 @outerbankies @messagesinthesky @nicolecarsley @svechnikolan @ilovejjmaybank @obxtess @abbyj1822 @oopsiedoopsie23 @g4bster @jjmaybankzz @freddymaybank @dontjinx-it @illbesafeforyou @moniamaybank @tovvaa @jailcalledlife @sunshineitsfine44 @randomficsandshit @outerbankspreferences @outerbanksbro @karsinner @kkmaybank @whoeveniskendall @lemur46

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 14- New World Order

Summary: With the world back to it’s usual business, and the Avenger’s base on a long road to recovery. You and Bucky begin a new chapter in Brooklyn, New York City.

Warning: just fluff really, and some spicy talk maybe a little suggestive themes if you will

Masterlist

It’s been about three months since the events leading up to the dusting of Thanos’ whole army and the death of that giant purple bastard. Ninety-one days since Tony Starks funeral, and 2184 hours since your entire world changed for the better.

Although you’d be a sore liar if you said you didn’t miss your old life with everyone at the Avengers Facility. Even with such a dramatic new change to your life now, you miss Natasha, you miss your late night talks with Steve, and maybe you even miss that little shithead raccoon. But there has been an emerging inner peace with what you gained that just about outweighs your heavy losses.

Someone who’s brought you unconditional love and understanding in your blooming state, someone who’s helped to draw your grief and anguish out of your vessel and transform it into something golden and pure. Your sweet Bucky. If someone last year was to claim at this time you’d be living in an apartment in New York with the love of your life. Well, you’d probably have swiftly made them regret it.

But now, things are better, not one hundred percent fantastic and awesome. But so much better then yourself an entire year ago could ever have even imagined. And that’s good enough for you.

Staring intently down at your little houseplant, you gently spray it with a spray bottle before standing back to admire your caretaking skills. Not too bad. Not too bad at all. Face shifting to that of a stern army general, you get down real close to the leaves so that your face is mere inches from the soaked plant, “I hope you drink this up okay? Bucky thinks I’m gonna kill you and I’m not losing that bet to him. No sir, so don’t you die on me.” The tiny fern keeps silent for obvious reasons at your little pep talk, it’s green leaves protruding beautifully outward as you set the spray bottle onto the countertop.

“He’s gonna owe me fifty dollars if you last till October, and I don’t even care about the money. I just want bragging rights.” You whisper before standing up and wandering over to the living room window.

The city lights are glowing vibrantly in the nights atmosphere, cars and people alike traveling down below your apartment building, oblivious to the whereabouts of two Avengers a couple stories above their very heads. Two ex-assissins. Both products of Hydra. Damn you’ve got a loaded history.

“Y/N! Are you coming!” There’s a long pause of silence from your bedroom that causes you to open your mouth to answer, but before you’re able to say anything in reply, Bucky yells out, “Also I can’t find my white t-shirt, do you know where it is?! Actually never mind I’m going shirtless!”

You let out a humored snort before swiftly turning on your heel and walking down the hallway until you finally reach your bedroom door, “You know we have neighbors right?”

Bucky sends you a shy smile as he disappears into the bathroom for something, “I’m sure this place has thick walls.” He says while flipping up the ceramic toilet seat.

“Uh huh.” You mutter unconvinced, deciding to search his drawers for a spare sleeping shirt.

Noticing your snooping, Bucky finishes up before flushing the toilet and wandering out the door until he’s practically leaning against your shoulder, “Don’t you have clothes?” Questions Bucky with a small chuckle as you throw him a look.

“I need ones to sleep in.” You casually protest as he slowly nods, clearly not getting your admittedly vague point.

“Don’t you have one to sleep in?”

Picking out a grey shirt of his, you shut the dresser before taking off yours, “All my shit got destroyed when Thanos blew up the base. So I’m limited with the stuff I did buy.” He watches as you unintentionally flash him before pulling on his sleep shirt, “And I’m not exactly eager to be out and about right now. I’m still getting used to the new amount of people on this planet. Also I don’t like shopping......or people.”

Bucky nods in understanding as he follows you to the bed, though he can’t quit suppress his chuckles, “Okay fine.”

Throwing the blanket back, you raise a brow at him for that humored yet blunt remark, “Did you not want me to take this one?” You ask, speaking like you’re talking to a little puppy just to tease him more.

Rolling his beautiful blues, Bucky gets into bed as you do the same, “No. Its fine, I don’t actually care.”

Chuckling, you move to sit next to him as he lays on his back, “Good. Cause you’re shirtless and I think I like you better that way. Means I can tickle you easier.”

“Don’t you dare tickle me Y/N or I will lock you out of the bathroom again I swear.” Warns Bucky as he quickly pulls the blanket over his muscular body while you start laughing at him.

“I wasn’t gonna do that. No....definitely not.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Huh well, guess you won’t be able to cuddle me then if you don’t trust me...” Throwing the blanket off of him, Bucky quickly engulfs you into his strong arms as you squeak with surprise, pulling you down so that he can be the big spoon for tonight.

“Now you’re trapped.” Mumbles Bucky against your shoulder as his chest pushes at your back when he laughs. He thinks he’s so funny.

Holding his arm that’s pressed against your body, you gently pat it as he hums in content, “Buck, I’m thoroughly enjoying this actually so just keep your arm there, even if it falls asleep you’re not allowed to move it sucker. That’s the rules.”

“Well maybe I like those rules. Sucker.” Chuckles Bucky as you bite your lip to keep from laughing. “Now go to sleep, it’s been a long week.”

“Fine.” You mumble into the darkness as a yawn hits you right after. Soon your breaths become steady and calm as you both lay there for another thirty minutes. You are tired, it’s just, something keeps you awake that just can’t be satisfied if you keep going on like this.

“Hey.” You whisper, he gives a low hum in reply, “Buck, I forgot to tell you I have a cat.”

Opening an eye, he gently squeezes your stomach, “You have a cat? Y/N what....how...uh, where is this cat?

“I gave her to Morgan. So I guess she’s technically not mine anymore, I don’t know. Just felt like telling you that.”

“Thanks for sharing.”

“Anytime.”

The both of you go as silent as ghosts before erupting into a fit of giggles, he buries his face into your hair as his sweet laughter bounces off the walls of your room. Though soon enough does the both of your giggles die down to nothing more then the calming sounds of your breathing.

Your mind dwells with a growing fatigue though your body seems to want something else then slumber, sucking in a soft breath, you hum in thought before whispering, “Bucky.” Just to spark his curiosity.

“Yeah.”

“Uh,” Maybe you shouldn’t be asking this and just let him sleep, “how tired are you?” You ask him anyways.

He pauses for a moment before slowly answering with a mumbled, “Tired.”

You hum in acknowledgment, voice low as you answer him, “oh okay.” Immediately sparking his interest.

“Why?” Asks Bucky, intrigued with your slightly disappointed response.

“Nothing, you said you’re tired so we can sleep.”

Bucky’s head rises off of the pillow as he leans over you to try and look at your face, “Well now I wanna know so tell me.” States Bucky in curiosity before catching himself, eyes softer now, “Please.”

Sighing, you purse your lips together, knowing he’s still leaned against your shoulder but deciding to spill anyways as you half-sheepishly whisper, “I’m kinda horny.”

“Kinda?” Chuckles Bucky in an almost teasing manner as you snort.

“Listen you little shithead, I know we did it the other day but I haven’t had sex in five goddamn years give me a break for being a bit horny despite my sleepiness.” You sass, “I’m just, I’ve been feeling a lot of things since you’ve come back. And I yunno, didn’t wanna come off too strong at first so...uh...yeah.”

Bucky hums in thought, “Right, right....yeah.”

Maybe he is too tired? You let out a little huff of slight embarrassment before turning your head to face him better, “It’s just how I’m feeling right now but if you’re too tired that’s really fine with me okay Buc...oh uh...mhmm...” Your worries lost to the wind as his fingers begin slipping underneath your shirt, plush lips pressing feather light kisses against your neck to shut you up from your restless mind. His digits graze over your hardened nibble before Bucky pulls your body flush to his, stubbled chin pressed against your shoulder as he plants a tiny kiss there.

You smile into the darkness when his kisses trail up from from your shoulder to your neck and finally your cheek, he slowly turns you onto your back as his lips plant butterfly kisses all over your face as you begin chuckling at how undeniably adorable he’s being right now. Mhmm hmm you could get used to this.

His arms slip from out of your sleep shirt, soon trapping you to the bed as he hovers over your heavenly vessel, granting you with a plethora of lovely kisses all over your heated skin like he’s exploring you for the first time all over again. Your hands instinctively trail through his shortened dark locks while he draws your legs apart with his muscular torso, doing everything to further spark your growing excitment.

Tonight will indeed be wonderful.

——

Waking up from out of a decently pleasant slumber, you suck in a deep breath to awaken the senses for the day, hands feeling around the rumpled up sheets for your snuggle buddy only to find nothing but an empty bedside. He’s gotten unbelievably good at sneaking out of bed it’s honestly one of the most impressive things he can do.

Your eyes scan the semi-closed window shades to reveal a glowing darkness, it’s only 5:00am, and you know exactly where he’s gone off to even after keeping him up for half the night. Instantly you’ve slipped out of bed, not bothering to turn on the lights as you quietly wander down the hallway until you reach the living room.

Past the small kitchen, and to the left of the single lounge chair, there he is. Snoozing like a meaty log of pure muscle and Vibranium as he lays on a thin blanket flush against the hardware floor. Another blanket covering his lower half as he shifts a bit in his sleep, he’s restless. Your eyes soften at your lover, he’s been doing this recently since Steve left and the world sucked Bucky back into reality. You’ve had plenty of time to adjust of course, but for Bucky, he’s had three months since you two parted from the comfort of Wakanda to live in America as part-time Avengers.

Technically he’s only free from the government and jail time for that matter because he was pardoned by the president and thus was forced to agree upon attending mandated therapy for everything the Winter Soldier did in the past. While you on the other hand were pardoned for war crimes and your involvement with the terrorist organization Hydra because of your status as an Avenger.

Also you’re technically only still allowed to live in the United States because you live with Bucky, who is conveniently from America, so you get a free pass as long as you two plan on residing under the same roof. So it works out for you.

Suddenly his labored breaths quicken and a second later he jolts awake, now drawing himself into a seated position as little beads of sweat shine in the light of the glowing television screen that shows some unimportant sports game.

His chest rises and falls before his blue eyes blink back the vivid fuzziness of his latest nightmare, gaze slowly shifting over to you once he realizes another body is near him. When his irises catch you in the full glow of the tv, he immediately lowers his head in slight embarrassment.

“Did I wake you up again?” Mutters Bucky, almost sounding like he’s mad at himself for letting you find him like this once more.

Shaking your head, you swiftly move to seat yourself at his level before leaning your back against the lounge chair, “You never wake me up Bucky, I think I have a sixth sense for you or something cause when you leave I just know.” You chuckle lightly as he shifts himself closer to you, “Also I miss you next to me.”

His head presses against the corner of the chair as he leans down to leave a light kiss on your shoulder, “I’m sorry. I just.....I don’t want to startle you when I’m having a nightmare and wake up, well, like that.”

Turning to face him, you reach a comforting hand up to gently run it through his shortened dark hair, “You can’t scare me off that easily Barnes. I could probably be classified as the monster under your bed if we’re talking about scary things at night.”

He reveals the ghost of a smile while leaning into your touch, “I know Y/N, it’s just not fair that I do this more then I should. You shouldn’t have to wake up all alone after living like that for five fucking years....I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“oh James..” You whisper while scooting closer so that your bent knees are against his own, hand now snaked down so that you can intertwine your hands with his, “...it’s not your fault the nightmares are coming back. And as much as I miss having you near me, sometimes we all need our space when things get internally rough. I get it, believe me. But don’t ever feel sorry okay? You have nothing to say sorry for, at least not to me alright?”

Bucky nods, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze while he shows the flash of a smile, “Okay.” Whispers Bucky, eyes falling down to your intertwined fingers before he finds your gaze once more, “Let’s go to bed, the sun will be up soon and I have a therapy session today.”

“Therapy is good for you Bucky.”

He rolls his eyes as you laugh at his annoyed expression, “You are my therapy.” Protests your lover before standing and pulling you up with him.

Hugging his torso affectionately, you smirk up at him, “Wrong answer James.” Holding back a genuine grin, he simply leans down to press his lips against yours. Doing his best to shut you up from further mentioning his required therapy sessions that he absolutely loathes to attend. 

——

Hands stuffed deep within your jacket pockets, you wander in step with Bucky who brushes his right arm against yours every couple of steps on the cement sidewalk of Brooklyn. You patiently waited the full forty-five minute session for him, knowing all too well that the second he walked out of there and saw your beautiful face. He’d be significantly less grumpy then before, just as you’d suspected.

Turning your head to face him, he keeps looking straight ahead though he’s aware enough to know you’re about to say something about the session, “You didn’t mention the nightmares did you.” Bucky huffs, annoyed at getting so easily caught by your observant intellect about him. You can read him like a book.

“No.” A blunt answer, he knows there’s no point in lying. “She thinks I need to call more people. Be more social or something.....it’s stupid.” He grumbles to himself though your ears catch it all the same.

You hum in agreement, “Well it wouldn’t kill you to call Sam, I know he tries to text you sometimes...”

“Does he text you?”

“Yeah.” You reply before playfully nudging his arm, “And unlike you, I answer. He’s just a concerned friend, which is nice, you need those kind of people.”

“I don’t need anyone but you Y/N. I’m good, really.”

Rolling your eyes, you snort as he throws you a half offended look, “Babe, I love you. But it’s admittedly a good thing to have other friends other then me. I know this from experience as we both know, so, give him a call sometime okay? For me.”

“Ugh, fine.” He begrudgingly mutters, “But only for you, that’s it.” Smiling brightly at him, you’re about to add something else when the sounds of your friend Yori rings loud in the bustle of the city as he argues with his annoyance of a neighbor, Unique. Something about trash and putting it in the wrong bin.

Bucky soon comes to the rescue and quickly puts an end to the argument before Yori decides to throw hands and gets himself in trouble. The stubborn old man gives up on his yelling and soon Bucky is able to convince him to get lunch with the two of you.

To the sushi place you go.

“Nobody made it past 90 this week.” Says Yori sadly as you lean against Bucky’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of the newspaper that he’s holding in one hand while you use your chopsticks to stuff a chunk of sushi in your mouth.

“So young. Such a shame.” Mutters Bucky with a shake of his head while he takes another bite of his meal.

“You guys didn’t order the usual, huh? Feeling a little adventurous?” Smiles Leah as you take a sip of your water, she loves when you three come in during her shift. Honestly she’s heard a lot of your complaining over the last couple weeks, though it’s usually just about some city annoyance since you don’t want to scare her off with all the real shit you’ve dealt with. You’re trying to make friends after all.

You acknowledge her with a raise of your drink before setting it on the glass counter, “Oh yeah, I like to live a little on the wild side..” You add with a laugh, “..unfortunately I tend to drag them along with me.”

Yori nods, “I enjoy the adventure.” Before pointing to Bucky, “It’s him right here who is scared of getting his feet wet.”

Leah laughs at the adorably confused face of Bucky as he sends the old man a look while you snicker in amusement. “Yori.” Warns Bucky without an once of aggression while you give his shoulder a gentle squeeze of affection.

“What?” Protests Yori, “I am right and you know it. Y/N am I not right?”

“Oh, you’re definitely not wrong.” Bucky pouts as you give his stumbled cheek a light peck, eyes set back onto your delicious sushi as he pretends to be annoyed by you and and Yori’s teasing.

The three of you continue to chomp down on your weekly lunch days meal at the usual sushi spot for another minute longer. Yori’s eyes suddenly sparking with a thought that you know he’s absolutely not going to keep to himself.

“You know what?” Whispers Yori as he leans in closer to Bucky, quit obviously pointing a finger towards you though you simply ignore them as he continues, “You better treat your woman well okay? She’s a good one...Ah I have a perfect idea. You go on a date, like dancing or....or, bingo.” Suggests the old man as your smile grows.

Bucky’s brows furrow as he whispers back, “We’re already dating.”

Yori nods, “You misunderstand my point, you must keep the flame going always okay? Very important, very important. When was the last time you gave her flowers huh? Went to the park? Whooed her..”

“I bought her a plant.” Says Bucky defensively as he side eyes you, “I, I whoo her.”

The old man smiles, “Good, good. That’s how you keep them around for a long time. Don’t forget that, I know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m sure you do.” Mumbles Bucky as you suppress the urge to laugh at their adorable conversation about how to treat a significant other right. That significant other being you.

——

Seated crisscrossed on the wooden floor of yours and Bucky’s shared apartment, a single thin blanket underneath you, your eyes squint suspiciously at Bucky like you don’t believe a single thing he’s saying. He’s seated on a pillow across the small coffee table, raising a dark brow at you while he holds back a growing smirk.

Your eyes soon shift down to the board before slowly trailing over his forced stoic face, “Well, Mr. Barnes....you’re a strong captain I’ll admit. But I am a skilled sea traveler of my own. E7.” His blue irises flicker down to his board, expression shifting ever so slightly in irritation, you got him.

Biting his lip, his hands move from behind the plastic board of the game that you can’t see, “How about that.” States Bucky with a genuinely impressed nod, “You sunk my battleship.”

Instantly your hands ball into fists, “Yessss.” You whisper joyously as your eyes squint in happiness for your first ever win against the literal master of Battleship. “Ha ha sucker! I won! I fucking won!” You shout with passion as he leans back on one arm to watch you jump up into a theatrical victory dance. God he loves you so much. You dangerous little goofball.

Swinging your arm dramatically in a circle, you shake your hips before winding down your dramatics to wander on over to Bucky who’s still seated on the floor, shimmering blues never leaving yours. Smirking victoriously, you crouch down to meet his humored gaze, “I think I deserve a prize.....and by prize I mean you get me those gummy worm things from the corner store. I deserve it after all.”

He tilts his head, the corners of his mouth rising as his eyes flicker to your lips for a brief moment, “Do you now?” He smiles lovingly though a sudden mischief sparkles in his eyes.

“Yes. This was the first time I ever won so I definitely deserve some type of reward for my efforts.” You state justly, eyes narrowing as you add, “Or I will battle you, and I’m not talking about the game.”

Bucky tilts his head up, an alluring smile playing at his plush pink lips while his eyes flicker to your mouth once again, oh he is certainly not going to get you naked in an attempt at swaying your mind from those gummies. You’re an ex-assassin who deserves some damn gummies every once in awhile. And his ass is gonna get you them, it’s only fair after all.

“Y/N.” Coos Bucky in that sultry voice of his, metal hand reaching up to touch your beautiful face, but as his fingers come within an inch of your precious skin. You shoot a hand up to clasp against his in an iron grip, blue eyes immediately going big when you tuck and roll. Taking his whole body with you.

In the swift aftermath, you’re able to skillfully pin him to the ground with relative ease. Both your hands pressed firmly against his naked wrists as you lean your face mere inches from his own, “I warned you, didn’t I?” You tease playfully as he breaks out into an inviting grin.

“I have something else in mind that you’ll absolutely love.” Assures Bucky with a telling expression that does nothing to hide the lust that flashes through them.

“In that case, pin me to the floor. And I’m all yours for the evening.” You whisper slyly as he practically shivers underneath your touch, “But if I win, you gotta travel two blocks for those delicious bitches. Khorosho, lyubov' moya?” You add in your native tongue of Russian, translating to “okay, my love” before pressing your forehead against his, eyeing him up like a bull ready to fight.

Bucky lets out a little sigh, something between annoyance and pleasure, “Fine. But you’re going dow...” Your lips crash against his in a hot second of passion before you quickly pull away, letting go of his wrists as you move to stand in a defensive position nearby.

Slowly blinking, he lets out a little huff before pulling himself to his full height, eyes trailing over you as he raises a brow, “Now that wasn’t fair.”

You casually shrug, “What wasn’t fair? We made a deal Barnes.”

Bucky rolls his eyes at your teasing, “You know what I...okay, okay. We’re really doing this?”

You shrug at his adorable expression, “You either have to walk 2 blocks in the dark for my treat, or a night of undeniably fantastic sex is within your reach. Not that I wouldn’t enjoy it, it’s the principle of the thing here. So, I’m going to fight you James Buchanan Barnes.” Oh and you used his full name too, Bucky knows without a doubt, it’s on.

He reveals a little smirk at that, “Guess I don’t have much of a choice. Hmm alright hot stuff let’s do this.” Muses your lover as he draws his hands up into fists, ever so slowly approaching you like a wary predator to their opposing rival. Not so sure if this is going to be a fight he can win or not, well, it sure won’t be an easy one.

When he’s within arms reach, you swiftly duck under his swift jab to your right arm, shooting a leg out to push him away from you while your body twists around to meet him. “Cheap shot.” Mumbles Bucky, calculated gaze studying your every movement as you slowly wander closer to him.

Looking as innocent as ever, “I want some gummy worms, I’ll break you little man.” Accent dripping with every word, further arousing Bucky though he tries to play it off with a laugh and a shake of his head.

Soon the two of you engage in a swiftly heated battle of hand to hand combat showing your admittedly intense skills of what only a former assassin could display so fluidly. Your two bodies moving like seasoned dancers across the hardwood flooring of your apartment, though you’re surprisingly able to keep relatively quiet as he blocks your fists. Can’t disturb those pesky neighbors.

Bucky shifts left just as you narrowly scrape your right elbow against his shoulder with a high jab from your elbows desperate upper cut, you slide on the hardwood under the false presumption that he’s out of reach when his flesh arm swings out to catch you in your stomach with a loud hollow thud. Ouch!

Instantly your throat emits a strange squeak as you feel the air knocked out of your precious lungs, clearly you had not anticipated this turn of events and neither does Bucky who immediately looks like he just accidentally stepped on a puppies little paw. “Y/N!” Worries Bucky with wide eyes as you keep hunched over, trying to suck in some needed oxygen.

Pulling some air into your lungs, you pretend to hobble over to the couch like a beaten down boxer, “Mm hmgood, yep.” You rasp out, resting your upper half on the couch as Bucky quickly approaches your side. But before he’s able to lay a comforting hand onto your shoulder, you swing a decorative pillow right at his head.

The puffy fabric knocks him onto his ass, earning a surprised grunt in the process as you tower above him, smirking like a trickster goddess over a poor lost and lonely traveler. Bucky rubs his reddened cheek, brows furrowed as he whines, “Y/N.” Like a little child who just got something taken from them by another kid.

Smirking a satisfied grin, you kneel down to meet his level, raising up a hand to gently draw his chin upwards to face you better, “That hurt you dickhead.” You muse as Bucky pouts, “ Y/N, I didn’t mean too..”

“I know.” You chuckle, “Now make it better.” You slyly add with a suggestive implication in your tone that causes Bucky to raise a brow. Letting go of his stubbled chin, you seat yourself onto the floor, facing Bucky as he reaches his metal hand out to pull you in closer to him.

Just about shoulder to shoulder with him, he gently presses his Vibranium hand to your cheek before pulling your face closer to his, soon the two of you lock lips with one another as his other hand snakes around to pull you onto him.

Ever so gently do you follow him to the floor as he continues to passionately make out with you like there’s no tomorrow. Metal and flesh hand feeling you up from your breasts to your bum as you straddle your man, hands trailing through his shortened hair while he fully enjoys this new positioning and turn of events.

Bucky presses wet kisses all around your cheeks and lips while he begins nonchalantly unbuttoning your pants, clearly hoping this will continue further and that all thoughts of those delicious gummy worms are out the door. You won’t lie to yourself though, caging Bucky’s thick torso underneath your opened legs is an admittedly pleasant experience to say the least.

So when he snakes his hands up under your shirt and starts messaging your breasts through the fabric of your bra, your mind begins thinking of some other things a bit more important then some simple treat from the local corner store. He knows just how to turn his favorite lover into a pile of puddy with nothing more then his mouth and fingers. This little shithead isn’t even inside you yet, you’re not even naked for goodness sakes!

But alas, a bet is a bet, and you don’t like to lose. Smirking into the kiss, and holding back a moan as Bucky’s digits squeeze your soft breasts, you tug on his hair before pulling away from his pleasantly inviting lips. Earning a palpable pout of confusion from your man, who’s noticeably grown hard against your bum.

“Y/N?”

“Bucky.” You tease back, imitating his voice once again as he throws you a puzzled look, “Don’t give me that shit Barnes I know what you’re trying to do.”

“And what am I trying to do?” Sasses Bucky as he rests his hands onto either side of your hips.

You raise a brow down at him, “These shenanigans.”

Bucky smiles, head falling back onto the floor as he laughs, “That’s not, no I’m not doing any shenanigans I swear....I just, maybe I just want to show my girl how much I love her.” Replies Bucky, though you stay unconvinced.

“We had a deal remember?”

“Yeah well, none of us won so..”

“Oh really?” You challenge, “Then why are you on your back and I’m right here as the victorious one? Who by the way has earned her gummy worms fair and square James Buchanan Barnes.”

Bucky groans, “oh come on Y/N....I can’t go now. Have some pity on me please?”

“And why not?”

He gently gives your hips an affectionate squeeze, “Because, my beautiful she-wolf who I love so very much and cherish every day of my life forever and alw..”

“Get to the point I want those damn gummies.” You threaten with a stern look though he knows you don’t truly mean it of course, but he has successfully annoyed you. “What is the problem this time?”

Bucky throws you a sheepish grin as he takes one of your hands in his, “Because I’m hard.” Sincere and straight to the point.

Pursing your lips together in amused irritation, you remove his hand from your hip, “Well, you did that to yourself babe I can’t help how amazing I am just existing. Really get over yourself.” You playfully tease before standing above him as his eyes never once leave your beautiful face, “Those gummies aren’t going to buy themselves.”

Bucky sighs dramatically shaking his head as he whispers, “You’re a monster of the greatest evil.” Smiling like a lovestruck idiot despite his neutrally spoken words.

You chuckle, stepping over him to pick up a pillow, “That’s me. Now don’t give me a reason to show you my claws.”

He quickly rises to his full height, another fallen pillow in hand as he tries to hide his hardened member behind it like some shitty magic act, “I’m just, I’m gonna hold this pillow for you. Not important why.”

“Uh huh.” You muse as he watches you clean up Battleship, putting all the pieces away and into the particular box before shoving it underneath the couch. When you go to fold the furniture's decorative blanket, a knock is heard at the door.

“Not it.” Mutters Bucky as you throw him an annoyed glance, already aware of who this is by their familiar scent. You walk over to the door and open it as Bucky hides in the background, pillow still covering his tented crotch.

“Hello Mrs. Brego you need help with your windows again?” You speak in Italian to your neighbor from down the hall. The old woman smiles before giving you a little shake of her head indicating a no.

“No dear, just telling you there’s cops downstairs for that guy from Chicago I think, so if you plan on going out. I wouldn’t choose tonight, the whole lobby is filled with people I think he might have been into drugs.” Warns the sweet old woman as you slowly nod, knowing all to well that Bucky most certainly heard everything.

Faking a smile, you shrug, “Wasn’t planning on going out tonight anyways. Well, thanks again. See you when I see you.” She smiles brightly before turning to walk down the hallway and into her own apartment, you watch until she shuts her door just to make sure nothing bad happens on your time.

Feeling comfortable that’s she’s fine, you shut and lock the door, pursing your lips as you turn around to face a smirking Bucky. He’s still holding the pillow against his junk, but he looks incredibly full of himself standing there with that stupidly handsome face of his. Those eyes. That smile. His body......no, focus.

Bucky goes to open his mouth but before he can say something sarcastic you throw a hand up to stop him, “Not a word.” You deadpan before turning to walk down the hallway, stopping yourself to glance over your shoulder, “Give me five minutes and then you can come to bed. But you better be naked or else.”

Bucky snorts as you practically swagger down the short hallway and into your shared bedroom. Closing the door as you prepare yourself for a late night of adventuring each others bodies.

Oh tonight will be something indeed.

-

Tagged: @diegos-butt  @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94 @iamasimpingh0e @mjaudrey​   @thescarlettvvitch

[caffeinatedbraincell]

So you asked about prompts? ;D What about Joe/Nicky + any team member cuddling for warmth? Or something about all of them sharing clothes? Huge bonus if Lykon is still part of the Guard ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you anon for the ask!! 💕 This took forever but here it is~

Read on AO3

“Whose idea was this, again?” Joe complained, readjusting the weight of the front half of the giant plastic evergreen. He was sweating and freezing at the same time, which was decidedly one of his least favorite feelings ever.

“Yeah, I wonder,” Quynh seconded from behind him, throwing Andy a dirty look.

Andy sauntered hands-free in front of them, talking animatedly with Nicky and Lykon as they walked. The three of them clearly loved the snow, though Joe doubted they would be having even half as much fun if they had to carry the tree.

Quynh spat out some plastic pine needles. “Andromache! It’s your turn to carry this, come here!”

“Pleeease babe, we’re almost home!”

“Yeah,” Nicky interjected. “Besides, we have to carry the presents!” He waved the small, sparkly gift bag at them before pointedly turning back around.

Joe muttered something in Arabic about lazy spouses with nice asses, and Quynh cackled.

“Alright, alright,” Lykon interjected, jumping in front to get everyone’s attention. “Booker just texted me that he’s managed to get Nile out of the house under the pretext of, and I quote, ‘the snowball duel of the century.’ They’re going to the mountain pass, so we have two hours to get set up.”

“Perfetto,” Nicky said. “It’ll take me about twenty minutes to get the cookies in the oven, and then I’ll help decorate the tree.”

“You better get out in less than twenty,” Quynh warned. “When am I supposed to work? Do you even know how long it takes to cook chicken?”

“He doesn’t,” Joe confirmed.

“Habibi, that’s not fair. What about that time I made-”

A long, ominous buzz innervated all of their phones simultaneously. It was an emergency weather alert.

“Blizzard warning until 2:15 AM. All inner city residents are encouraged to shelter in place until further notice. Sudden snowfall and landslides may prove deadly,” Nicky read.

“Lykon, text Booker,” Andy ordered.

“On it.”

“No use,” Nicky cut in. “They’re probably already at the mountain pass. They won’t make it back in time.”

Andy swore loudly. “Joe, get the car. We’re going after them.”

Quynh and Joe dropped the tree and ran towards the house. By the time Joe started the car, Quynh was climbing down the porch steps with an armful of towels. The five of them piled into the car and tore down the icy roads.

The storm picked up with terrifying haste. When they got to the bridge near the mountain pass, visibility was already nearing zero. Joe switched places with Andy, clambering into the passenger seat so she could take the wheel. If anything could help them now, it was Andy’s extensive experience with driving in extreme weather conditions.

As they traveled through the pass, everyone kept their eyes trained on the snowy slopes, looking for any signs of Nile and Booker.

Suddenly, Lykon cried out in horror. Only a few feet away from the road were two motionless bodies, almost fully buried in a snow drift.

“Cazzo!” Nicky yelled, leaping out of the car. “There must have been an avalanche!”

Andy shoved the gearshift into parking and followed, joining the others as they attempted to dig out their friends with their bare hands. About two minutes after the frostbite set in, they were able to pull Nile and Booker free of the drift.

“Why aren’t they waking up?” Lykon asked, a tinge of panic in his voice. Andy rubbed Nile’s wrist as she looked at her watch, attempting to measure a pulse. Nicky tried to do the same for Booker, unconsciously chanting a Hail Mary under his breath.

Quynh stepped forward. “We need to get them back to the car. The heater will warm them up and help dry them off. Come on.”

Joe picked up Nile in his arms, cradling her head. Quynh threw Booker over her shoulders in a fireman’s carry. This time, they noticed neither the weight nor the cold. Their entire focus was on getting their friends home to warmth and safety.

“Joe, your coat,” Andy said as they got to the car. “It’s fleece. Take Nile’s ski jacket off and give her yours.”

Joe obeyed without hesitation, bundling her in his own winter gear and buckling her into the back seat. Meanwhile, Quynh and Nicky used the towels to dry off Booker’s snow coat as best as they could. Lykon climbed into the passenger seat, and Andy began to drive.

Thankfully, the storm didn’t get worse on their way back (though Joe seriously doubted it could get worse). By the time Andy pulled into their driveway, Nile and Booker were beginning to stir.

“Hey, easy now,” Lykon soothed, helping a dazed Booker out of the car. “Let’s get you inside. There we go, you’re okay. Just a little farther.”

Behind them, Nile leaned heavily on Quynh as she half-carried her up the porch steps. Joe paused, watching them enter.

“All okay?” Andy asked, placing a hand on his shoulder as the wind whipped the snow around them.

“The tree…” Joe muttered, fazed. “I dropped it somewhere. We were going to surprise Nile, and I-”

Andy turned him gently to face her, pulling his woolen beanie down to cover his ears.

“It’s alright, love,” she said softly, switching to Arabic. “She needs a different kind of comfort from us now. She and Booker both. Let’s go take care of them, okay?”

Joe nodded, following her into the warmth of their home.

A fire blazed happily in the hearth. Someone had expanded their futon and pulled it closer to the fireplace. Nile and Booker were seated on it now, wearing large, clean sweatpants - Nicky’s sweatpants, Joe noticed - and fuzzy Christmas sweaters. Quynh and Lykon were snuggled up on either side of them, feeding them something from a thermos flask and adjusting the heated blankets.

“Room for two more?” Andy grinned, curling up next to Quynh and gesturing at Joe to sit. “What’s that?” Joe asked, sliding under Lykon’s side of the blanket and pointing at the steaming drink in the thermos.

“I made apple cider earlier and left it in the instant pot,” Lykon replied. “It was still hot.”

Lykon held the drink to Nile’s lips. She took a large sip, sighing happily. Joe made a mental note to pour himself some cider if he ever got out from under this heated blanket.

Just then, Nicky walked out of the kitchen, balancing a large tray in his hands. “Soup time! Everyone sit up, let’s eat.”

Joe blinked, wondering how his husband had had the presence of mind to immediately go into the kitchen and make soup, of all things. He himself was still recovering from the last hour’s ordeal.

Nicky tutted disapprovingly. “Boss, get changed. Joe, you too. Why would you think it���s a good idea to get under an electric blanket in wet clothes?”

Andy grimaced, throwing her jacket and t-shirt on the floor and snuggling up to Quynh in just her bra. Quynh tugged Andy closer.

Nicky turned to Joe, raising an eyebrow. “Habibi?”

Joe pulled a face. “Do you have any sweatpants left for me?”

“Always.” Nicky ruffled Joe’s curls. “My gray university ones are in the dryer. They’ll still be warm if you hurry.”

Joe got up, returning two minutes later in the gray sweatpants and a black tank top he stole off of Andy’s dresser. He hastily dove back under Lykon’s heated blanket.

In the middle of the couch, swaddled in blankets and eating soup, Nile and Booker were looking much more alive. The color returned to their cheeks, intensifying as Nicky began to scold them.

“Booker, what the fuck were you thinking?” he demanded.

“I don’t know! You said to distract Nile, and she wanted to have a snowball fight. So I said yes!”

“Why didn’t you just go to the park?”

“I thought driving out to the mountain pass would buy you guys more time. It was a bad idea. I’m sorry.”

“You could have died, Book! Just because we’re immortal doesn’t mean we can play with our lives like that. Not to mention, you put Nile in danger!”

Quynh sat up, reaching for Nicky’s hands. She swiped her thumbs over his knuckles in a soothing gesture. “Hey, lay off him, would you? They’ve had a tough night.”

“But what if-”

“No what-ifs, Nicky. It’s alright. They’re safe. Now put the rest of that soup down and come here.”

Nicky sighed in secret gratitude. This was not a night he wanted to be left to follow his thoughts. “Fine.”

He squeezed onto the futon between Quynh and Nile, accepting the blanket Andy threw over him. He wrapped his arms around Nile, who snuggled closer.

“Nicky?” she mumbled after a moment.

“Hmm?”

“If you’re not still angry, can I ask you a question?”

Nicky pulled back to look at her. “Sorellina, I’m so sorry. I was never angry at you. Nor at Booker, really. Just a bit worried.”

“Yeah,” Joe piped up from the other end of the couch. “He gets mean when he’s scared.”

“I am not mean,” Nicky insisted. “Nile, what was it you wanted to ask?”

“Why did Booker say you wanted him to distract me? Distract me from what?”

Lykon laughed. “Should we tell her, Nicky, or do we plan to try again tomorrow?”

“We lost the tree, so I think we should just tell her,” Joe voted sleepily.

“You just don’t want to carry another tree,” Booker accused.

“Easy for you to say!” Quynh jumped in. “Next time, I’ll distract her, and you can walk a mile in the snow with plastic pine needles in your face.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Andy said, lips twitching. “No more attempts. Jesus wasn’t actually born on this day, anyway. I was there.”

Nicky blinked at her, and then rapidly shook his head to clear it. He looked at Nile. “We were trying to surprise you with a Christmas party. Remember last Thursday, when you were telling us how your family celebrated it back home?”

“Yeah.”

“We wanted to recreate all the same traditions. We got a tree, and some ornaments, and stockings with your initials on it, and, uh…”

“Presents! And that Christmas music you like,” Joe added.

“Yes, and Nicky was going to make cookies shaped like reindeer,” Quynh said.

“Also,” Lykon pointed to a folded-up tripod in the corner, “we were going to take family photos in our sweaters and put them on postcards. Copley said we can’t send them to anyone, but we could still make some.”

Booker sighed. “Sorry I ruined it, Nile. I thought- wait, are you crying?!”

Nile sniffled, turning away from Booker to tuck her face under the blanket. “No.”

“Oh, honey,” Quynh cooed. We can still do it all tomorrow, if you want…”

“It’s not that,” Nile croaked. “It’s just- You guys did all that just to surprise me?”

“It’s nothing,” Nicky assured. “Well, it’s really nothing now, but even if everything had gone according to plan, it still wouldn’t have been any trouble. It’s your first Christmas with us, and we wanted it to be memorable.”

“You’re the best,” Nile said, voice choked with emotions. “All of you. And this is the best Christmas Eve ever. Thank you.”

“Hush,” Andy smirked. “In this house, we show gratitude by not dying unnecessarily.”

“Oh, that was all Booker’s fault,” Nile countered smoothly. “I would have been content with a snowball fight in the park.”

“Really loving the underside of this bus,” Booker muttered as the others laughed.

Over the next hour, the lighthearted conversation drifted into sleepy silence. By the time Nicky thought to ask who would turn off the lights, Joe was only half-pretending to be fast asleep.

[mae-gi-writes]

Obtuse | Bang Chan (Stray Kids) - PART TWO

Summary ☆ "I don't know. I want to be his friend but then again, I don't. I mean, how can you simply be friends with someone when every time you look at them, you're thinking about how much more you really want?"

Genre ☆ bestfriends to lovers au, angst, slowburn, suggestive themes, college au, fluff, soft Chan x oc (Micha)

Word count ☆ 

. ° ☆ ° .

PART ONE | PART TWO

. ° ☆ ° .

Idiot, Micha kept on replaying the words like the words to her favourite song, Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

There she sat in the hospital chair beside her mother’s unconscious body, her life hanging by a thread with the help of the machine that beeped obnoxiously in the corner, and all she could think of was of the messed up realization that she was in love with her best friend.

Chan hadn't spoken a word as she'd sobbed and sobbed, even though she wasn't sure what she was crying about exactly. He'd only wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in to rest his head against hers in an embrace so firm and filled with warmth that her heart tugged in pain. He was so close that it pained her, the realization that he was so close yet so far was a blow that left a permanent bruise.

So she'd pushed him away, wiped her tears and gestured him to follow her.

He said nothing as he sat beside her, shifting every now and then as he succumbed to the dreadful silence filling the room.

And she hated it, that he was here as if this was the most normal thing for him to do. Because it wasn't. As if on impulse, Micha couldn't help but glance at his attire that confirmed her suspicions he'd just gotten out of the gym, probably having dropped everything to rush to her side.

"Who told you?" Micha asked. Her voice felt weird, strangled as she spoke.

Chan shifted and she felt his eyes on her face, the warmth of them permeating through her skin, "Felix called."

A stagnant pause ensued. In the silence, Micha forced herself to swallow down the lump of emotion stuck in her throat, forced down the feelings that seemed to have erupted through her every pore like she had just opened up a pandora's box of truths.

Go away, was what Micha's brain screamed. Go away.

But her heart protested. Please don't leave me.

Her brown orbs lifted to his side profile. Please don't leave me.

Even if I love you.

"You should go," is what she murmured out instead, "you're wasting your time."

"Don't say that," he replied, tone firm.

His silent assurance, that made it even harder to push him away. Micha didn't know how to feal with these feelings and though she wished she had stayed blossfully ignorant of them, there was no denying the cold hard truth that now blared atop her head like a red alert sign.

At some point, Micha's eyelids had fluttered closed for the next thing she knew she was squinting, disoriented and cuddled into a warmth that smelt of familiar pine and boy aftershave. Chan.

It was so familiar, laying on his chest and smelling that comforting scent of his, a scent that reminded her of home. She couldn't help but notice how well she fitted against him, the warmth of his hands casual on her waist and his nose nudging her temple and her heart skided to a momentary halt.

This was Chan. Just Chan, her best friend. Nothing else, nothing more.

So it was a relief once the doctor slid through the door, causing her to instantly jostle Chan out of the way. He stated that while her physical injuries would heal in a few weeks, though the one thing that worried him the most was the fact that her mother might not wake up from her vegetative state.

Micha would've fainted if not for Chan's strong hold on the back of her elbow and at some point, her father ushered her out with firm orders that the young man take her home.

"Here," he stuffed a few dollar bills in Chan's hand despite the latter's protests, "get some dinner. I insist."

The next few weeks were a blurry mixture of visiting the hospital while helping her father to run the family restaurant whenever she could. They took turns sleeping and watching over her mother's unconscious form, talked about the happenings of their everyday life in hopes that it would trigger something, anything.

The unforseen circumstances caused Micha to push back her internship by a semester and that so meant that she was permanently home and permanently swamped by none other than her best friend.

"What are you doing here? You’re supposed to have class," Micha asked upon noticing him slide out of the the kitchen with two sets of noodle bowls on a tray. It was no understatement to say that NomNom Noodles Restaurant was bustling with hungry customers as it was a Friday evening. What Micha hadn't expected though, was to see Chan's sloppy smile and sweaty forehead.

He shrugged, "your dad told me you could use the help."

Her heart tugged, partly churning with affection followed by this burning annoyance to get him out of her sight.

And he was helpful; he was a charming waiter that cracked jokes whenever he could, grabbing the dishes from her hands the moment she walked out of the kitchen, wiping tables he wasn't even assigned to. And all that made it harder for Micha to push him away. Oh how she wanted to ignore him, to make him understand that she needed a space, and a lot of it.

But she didn't want to hurt him. Not when he deserved so much better.

"Oi."

Micha was whipped back to reality when she felt Chan's finger poke her forehead, only to be faced with his dimpled grin, "earth to Micha. Customers are waiting."

Heat flushed through the back of her neck. She swatted him away, "don't touch me with your greasy hands."

"Aw shut up you," he made a move towards her, causing her to sidestep with ease, "stop it, Chan--"

She whipped around, almost bumping into one of the chairs as Chan's arms circled around her shoulders to pull her back to hug her close, "Chan!"

"Don't I smell nice? I'm just sharing it with you!"

And as if on cue, the door chimed open, both their heads whipping up with welcoming grins.

Only to face Ayeong's smile.

"Ayeong!" Micha all but shoved Chan away as she noticed the slight, barest slip of the said girl's smile.

Chan whooped and ran up to his girlfriend, cheeks flushed and eyes crinkling into crescents, "baby girl! You came!"

"And I brought company," she allowed him to kiss her cheek just as the door opened to reveal Minho and Seungmin bundled up into their coats.

Swalllowing down the sudden lump of pain, Micha went forward into Ayeong's open arms, "hey, it's been a while."

"I know!" Ayeong hugged her tight, so genuine that tears threatened to fall. Micha squeezed back slightly before quickly diverting her attention to greet the two other boys.

The restaurant was empty by the time their noodles were fresh out of the pot, meaning that they had the restaurant for themselves as they caught up on life and remembered their high school days. Micha learnt that Minho was interning at another restaurant, Seungmin had passed his Design projects with flying colours, and Ayeong had already signed a contract with the business hotel that she had trained with.

"That's amazing,” Micha said to Ayeong, "do you like it?"

"I do," Ayeong beamed, "and my superiors are nice too. They're all a bunch of guys so they aren't complicated."

"Careful Ayeong, one might think that you're gonna change boyfriends," Minho teased and caused the girl to stick out her tongue at him before leaning against Chan's shoulder.

Micha's eyes instantly shot away, swallowing hard at the knot forming in her stomach. She couldn't help it. It was like second nature to hurt herself by catching small glimpses of their entwined hands, of the adoration dripping from their eyes and she wished she could just make all the pain end.

It seemed like Minho noticed her unusual demeanour, for as they were leaving the restaurant after washing up the dishes, he'd stopped by the door to shoot her a concerned look.

"You okay, Micha?"

Surprise flitted through her face for a few seconds, "uh, yeah. Yeah I'm fine."

She saw him glance at Chan's figure before looking back at her with pursed lips, eyebrows knitted together as if deep in thought, and shook her head.

After all, who could deprive Chan of his happiness?

. ° ☆ ° .

It was safe to say that Micha fell into a routine; waking up to visit her mother in the early morning hours, replacing her father at the restaurant when it was his turn to sit at her mother's bedside, avoiding Chan at all costs even though he was practically throwing himself in her way, and locking up at around ten, nine earliest if the restaurant was void of clients.

She would've made a much greater effort at pushing Chan's helping hand away if not for the fact that her mother was mostly occupying the forefront of her mind. The truth was, a small part of her was actually relieved that Chan stayed no matter how angry she seemed, how cold she was to him. He was a big puppy constantly coming back for more no matter how much she kicked at his countenance.

And that made her feel even worse.

"Me and Aejong made pancakes the other day," Chan chatted on one late evening as they were clearing the tables, with Micha responsible for wiping them down while he mopped the floor, "she's a horrible cook. As unbelievable as that sounds."

"Why? Because she's too good at everything?" Micha knew she sounded bitter, but her tongue seemed to have a mind of its own, lashing out without control.

Chan, as oblivious as he was, didn’t seem to catch her sense of mockery, “maybe not everything. But she’s definitely very talented in many ways. I never knew she took piano lessons until she was seventeen. She passed the exams and all.” 

"Good for her.” 

“You know what’s the best thing though? I really like that she never boasts about herself. That, I admire that--”

“Yes Chan, I get it,” Micha finally snapped.

Chan paused in mid-mop, “What? What did I do now?” 

Her teeth sunk onto her lower lip as she kept on wiping down the tables instead of answering his question. 

“Why are you angry with me?”

"I’m not angry with you,” she folded her dishcloth a little too aggressively and turned to the other table. 

“Then why are you talking to me like that?” 

“It’s nothing.” 

“Micha.” 

“I said it’s nothing!” Micha finally whipped around to scowl at him and maybe it was the mixture of saddened pain whenever she thought of her dying mother along with the continuous stab, stab, stabbing of knives that pinched her heart every time she saw Chan so much as utter his lover’s name, a name that wasn’t hers, that brought tears to her eyes despite her not wanting to let him in, not anymore, not when he was one of the sources causing her pain. 

But the young man’s frustrated expression gave way to instant worry the moment he caught her eye. He made a move towards her. 

And that was when she burst into a fit of angry, heart-wrenching sobs. 

It was as though all the pain and the pent-up emotion that she’d stuffed at the back of her heart like an unused closet she could throw away the key suddenly burst open without warning, for once she started crying, Micha found that she couldn’t stop. Her tears only heightened upon feeling the warmth of her best friend’s embrace, pulling her closer and allowing her to sob her way through the tides of pain and worry and sadness that seemed to have taken over her countenance. 

Cheek pressed against the side of her head and hands softly rubbing comforting circles along her back, Micha just allowed herself to feel sorry for her state, if only for this one night where she thought that everything was slipping through her fingers; her mother, Chan. Her career. Her future. 

Once Micha had cried all the tears from her body so that there were none left, she could only rest against Chan as he rocked her from side to side, the only comfort that was holding her broken pieces together at this point. She hated it, loathed it. His kindness, his genuine concern for her. 

It made it so much harder to push him away. 

“How long have you been holding this in?” came his softened murmur against her hairline. She shivered unconsciously, hating the way her heart seemed to beat a little faster merely for his alto. Or maybe it was the closeness, the intimacy of his touch, especially in the dim lights of the restaurant with only the soft distant sounds of traffic in the distance to keep them company. 

“It’s not about how long,” Micha’s fingers unconsciously gripped the back of his hoodie, hoping to extend this moment for a little longer. Just for tonight. She continued in a mumble, “everything is...everything is just so overwhelming.”

"Want to talk about it?” 

Micha’s lips pressed into a thin line. When she spoke after her slight bout of hesitation, her voice trembled, “it’s like I’m not even in my life anymore. I feel like I’m in a nightmare-- and I can’t wake up.”

He hummed in reply, hugged her just a little tighter and kept rocking from side to side. That was all the encouragement she needed. 

“I mean, my mom’s a vegetable and she’s--dying,” a small sob echoed through her throat, “I know how these patients end up. I see no other solution. She’s going to wither away in that bed and I can’t do any fucking thing about it. And then there’s my degree which I’m not completing because we obviously need the money for mom so I don’t know what’s going to happen to me, to my life and to my career and just, I just can’t breathe Chan and it scares me, it scares me so damn much--”

“Hey hey,” he pulled back just enough to see another path of tears dribbling down her face, thumb reaching up to brush it away, “it’s okay, shh. Enough crying, hm? You know I hate it when you cry.” 

That only incited her to cry some more and Chan made a noise of protest before he cupped her cheek, gently wiping them away as they fell, “I know that everything sucks right now. I--I can’t even imagine how impossible everything must be for you, and I can’t tell you that things will sort themselves out because we never know what might happen.”

“But,” he continued with a gentle squeeze to her hip then and she tensed slightly at the intimacy of his gesture, “I swear it gets better. I swear it on my heart. And if you want to cry then cry, I’ll be here. If you need to shout, to scream, to punch someone, I’ll be there Micha,” tilting her chin up so that she had no choice but to gaze at him, he cracked the softest of smiles that left her all giddy inside, “I’m not going to let you go through this alone, that I can promise you.”

Swallowing thickly, it was hard not to squirm underneath the soft glimmer of his soft maroon-eyed stare. So she dropped her eyes while mumbling out a soft, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he whispered back.

“You don’t deserve to be here, you-- you’ve done so much for me and I don’t even know how I’m supposed to repay that--”

“There is nothing,” he cut her off firmly while his hold tightened unconsciously, “to be sorry for.” 

Still, Micha’s eyes suddenly found interest in the patterns of her best friend’s shirt, knowing that there was no possibility of eye-contact now, not if she wanted to keep her self-control in check. Maybe it meant nothing for Chan to hold her so casually in his arms, but there was no denying the fact that anyone looking through their restaurant window could mistake them for a couple, and the thought caused Micha to reel back in self-disgust. 

As if sensing her inner turmoil, her best friend’s hand went up against the back of her head before he nudged her to his shoulder. And while Micha’s brain was shaking in disapproval, she couldn’t find the strength to fight against what her own body yearned for, returning back into his arms and telling herself that it was just for tonight. Tonight, she would push everything at the back of her mind and just for now, would enjoy the mere warmth and comfort that came with Chan’s arms.

Burrowing her face into the crook of his neck and taking in his scent, Micha allowed her eyes to slip closed for a moment, trying her best to engrave this into memory. 

Just for tonight, she promised herself inwardly. Just for tonight, she would be selfish. 

Just for tonight, she would imagine that Chan was hers. And no one else’s. 

. ° ☆ ° .

"Do I have to be there?"

Micha caught Minho's eye as he helped her hand through her coat sleeve. The said young man's eyebrow rose at her question as if she'd never asked a thing so dumb, "yes you do."

"But why?" She stomped her feet while whining, "I don't even like to drink. Or dance."

"It's my birthday. I call the shots."

"I hate you."

"Aw, me too," he pinched her cheek with aggressive fondness and Micha batted him away with her hands, scowling and muttering a string of curses under her breath as she trailed after him towards his car.

Minho's birthday was to be special as he was turning twenty-two, the perfect excuse to go out and drown themselves in alcohol. Felix, Changbin and Jisung had even rode all the way from their campus to stay over for the long weekend, taking advantage of the public holiday to party the night away.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Minho asked as he slowed to a stop at a red light.

Micha turned to him, "yeah?"

He hesitated for a few seconds. Then, "do you like Chan?"

It was so sudden, like ice running down her back and making her go tense, fingers curling onto the material of her dark pants. Micha gazed out at the stop light until it went blurry, not knowing what to say to make it sound truthful.

"No--"

"I know he doesn't see you," Minho spoke up hurriedly, "but I see the way you look at him. I couldn't help but ask."

It wasn't like she had planned to let her secret out so soon. But he'd caught her red-handed. Her shoulders slumped, followed by the softest of sighs escaping her lips.

"You caught me," was the only thing she said.

Another pause that allowed the words to settle between them, before the light turned green and the car moved forward. A good distraction against the awkwardness sticking to Micha's heart like sweat.

"Do you..." Minho paused, "do you think you should tell him?"

"No."

"Don't you think he needs to know?" Minho turned his car down a street lined with pubs. They were slowly approaching their destination, “It’s not fair to him.” 

She kept her gaze out of the window, partly too embarrassed to face him and partly to keep herself from crying, "what good would it do?"

She was glad that they had reached the parking lot of the restaurant bar at that point, for she had no intentions of continuing a conversation that led to nowhere and, ignoring Minho’s call for her name, quickly jumped out of the vehicle and strode right up to the doors of Seniora’s. 

The restaurant was already full and she was glad that they had at least booked a private VIP spot in advance, thanks to Seungmin’s amazing organization skills. Micha weaved her way through in the dim spotlights shining atop dark mahogany tables that blended in with the darkness, trying to find their respective table among the throng of pretty, made-up girls in too-short dresses and guys who had no problem puffing out their cigarettes right into her face. 

“Guys!” Felix’s voice boomed through the jazz notes floating through the air, and Micha turned towards his voice to see him waving frantically, a huge grin on his childish face, ‘over here!”

His excitement was contagious as it caused her own lips to stretch into a mirroring grin. She bounded into his arms without hesitation, “Felix! You made it! You said you had an assignment to finish.”

“You know how convincing Minho hyung gets once he sets his mind to it,” the freckled man gave her a once over before he whistled, “don’t you look--”

“--Fucking gorgeous, Micha,” the pair turned towards the voice, seeing Changbin with open arms while she squirmed at his compliment. He was being too kind, though her sleek black jumpsuit that clung to her curves was definitely a contrast to her usual sweater and jeans. Behind him stood Jisung and Seungmin, as well as a few other of their classmates, girls and boys included.

Her eyes suddenly locked onto a familiar pair of dark orbs. Chan. 

“Hello! Hug, please?!” Changbin’s hand brought her attention back as he waved before her, scowling in mock annoyance. Micha grinned, wrapping her arms around his neck, “come here you big baby.” 

“Careful Mi, he might have wandering hands now that he sees you’re more than just a replacement for Chan,” Seungmin commented while giving her shoulder a squeeze. 

That earned the latter a glare from the said muscled man, “what? I’m just stating how beautiful she looks.” 

Micha made her rounds of greeting -- did Minho’s friend group triple by tenfold since she was gone?-- and was exhausted by the time she finally stumbled before Chan.

“Hey, look at you,” Chan offered her a dimpled grin and she swore she wanted to coo at how cute he was. Stop that, Micha gave herself a mental slap as he continued, “all I’m gonna say is, stay away from Changbin tonight.”

“He’s not going to do anything,” she rolled her eyes, “I’ve known him long enough. I’m basically his brother.” 

Her best friend said nothing, only gazed at her in that undecipherable way of his, like he was trying to solve a puzzle that couldn’t be solved.

“What?” she asked. 

“Uh--nothing,” he dropped his gaze, looked away just in time for their attention to be diverted by Minho calling for a round of shots, “alright alright everyone! I’ll open up the party, shall we?”

Before she knew it, Micha had been tugged along by none other than Felix only to be dragged to the counter where a row of shots were being filled to the brim. She didn’t have to ask, knew instantly by smell that this was definitely not water. Her nose burned at the sting of vodka permeating her nostrils and she cursed under her breath as Minho handed her one with a teasing, yet sympathetic grin.

“I think you’ll need it tonight,” Micha couldn’t stop herself from scowling at the underlying meaning in his words. She swore at him, “dick.” 

Micha hadn’t realized how monotonous, how boringly routine, her life had become ever since she flew back to her motherland. What with her mother’s situation in hospital and her running around trying to cover up all of her father’s blind spots, Micha had forgotten how it actually felt to be young, to be as carefree as she usually would be during university in-between her constant flow of assignments, how she used to get into this ‘fuck-it’ mood and hit up the arcade with the rest of the boys before winding up at one of the local bars, beers in their hands as they competed on who could chug down their drinks faster. 

So she took advantage of Minho’s birthday to let herself relax and actually pay attention to what was happening to her, around her. Just in this moment. Nowhere else. And it felt good. It felt...alive. Free.

She danced along to the music, chatted with the other girls who she now realized were quite cool and sassy in their own flirtatious ways, drank shot after shot every time another one of her friends dragged her back to the bar without realizing that maybe she should’ve kept count.

Until it was all too late. The alcohol didn’t have any effect. Until it hit her like a tow truck.

And maybe this sudden rebellious streak had manifested itself the moment her eyes lingered over the familiar pair of figures on the dance floor, chest clenching and heart crumbling at the sweetest brush of Chan’s fingers against Ayeong’s forehead. Micha turned away just in time to halt the tears burning through the corners of her eyes and she impulsively made a grab for Changbin’s arm before pulling him along with her, “let’s get another drink.” 

“Are you sure Mi? You kinda look tipsy already--”

“It’s on me. Now stop being a wuss and come on.”

Seniora’s was filled to the brim now that it was almost past midnight and the sea of bodies aided to calm the storm threatening to split her heart into. It made it easier to breathe, easier to push back the thought at the back of her mind as the alcohol paved its way through her blood and thrummed against her veins. 

It felt good. Too good. And Micha wanted this numbness to last forever.

. ° ☆ ° .

Unfortunately, it didn't.

"It's alright, you're alright," Changbin's soothing alto comforted her as she kept on throwing up the contents of her dinner, continuously dragging her hair back to hold it up and out of the way.

"Oh god--" Micha's stomach lurched "I'm sorry--" she couldn't stop herself from vomiting once more and boy, was she glad that Changbin had dragged her out of Seniora's just in time.

"So?" Felix called from the corner of the small street in which they were hiding from curious eyes. No point in giving people something to talk about, "how is she?"

"Holding up," Micha called back despite the sour taste in her mouth. When it felt like she wasn't going to pass out anymore, she slowly dragged herself upwards, throwing Changbin's concerned expression a weak smile.

To which he replied, "you look like shit."

"Thanks Changbin. That's exactly what I need to hear," Micha rolled her eyes, feeling his strong arm wrap itself around her waist. She allowed herself to lean into him just this once, fearing that she might trip over her feet and fall flat on her face if she wasn't careful.

They stumbled over to Felix who, upon giving Micha a once-over, stated that she was to be sent home at once.

"I'm fineeee guyssss," Micha whined through slurred words, "pluss, I really wanna...dance y'know?"

She swayed a little for good measure, only to stumble and she would've landed flat on the sidewalk if not for Changbin's arm holding her upright.

"I'm bringing you home," Changbin's tone was firm.

"Nooo, I don't want to go home yet!"

"Micha, you and I both know that you're too drunk to make those decisions right now."

"But Changbinnieeee I just--I really want to--" and as soon as the picture of Chan's face flashed before her eyes, she felt her resolve crumbling into the form of tears, "I want to...forget about him--"

It hurt too much. She couldn't keep it together. It was like she was forcing herself to hold in the pain burning through her loins and no sooner had had she tilted up to meet Changbin’s eyes that she burst into wretched sobs.

She felt him still for a moment, arm hesitantly tugging her closer, hand wrapping around her head in comfort, “h-hey,” he peered into her face, slightly panicked at her outburst, “what--what’s the matter?” 

“Mi?” Felix’s voice joined in. Warmth swept over her side, “Mi, what’s wrong? Do you not feel good? Do you want to go home?” 

Micha nodded, and felt herself getting tugged to Changbin’s chest. That made her cry even harder, for while his scent was nothing short of comforting, it wasn’t the warmth she was looking for.

All she wanted was for Chan.

But he wasn’t hers. And he never will be.

“I got her,” she heard Changbin’s words over the raging storm tossing her heart aside. Warmth circled her shoulders -- his leather jacket, no doubt -- and she allowed his hands to steer her away from the loud bass beats of the restaurant bar and she had to give that to him. No matter how much of a bad boy he was, no one could possibly deny him of his heart of gold. That Micha was pretty sure of.

They were halfway up the street with Changbin flailing for a cab when a familiar car pulled up their street. Its window rolled down, causing Micha’s breath to halt in her throat.

“Need a ride?” Chan’s eyebrow was raised in amusement, only to drop in concern upon noticing her pale composure, “what the--Micha?!” 

“No,” Micha quickly stuffed her face into Changbin’s shoulder, “Changbin, please...” 

The latter, as confused as ever, nudged her towards the car, “come on Mi. Chan’ll take you home.” 

“Nooooo.” 

"Not the time, Micha. Seriously, get in the car.” 

“I said noooo--”

Too late, for Changbin simply whipped her up in his hold, walked right around to the passenger door while ignoring her trying to sock him one, before plopping her into the seat. He slammed the door in her face and waved goodbye, “see you tomorrow, loser!”

Great. That was exactly what she needed. To be alone with Chan.

“Well someone drank a little too much tonight,” was the first thing he said the moment he pulled onto the street, a little smirk sent in her direction. Micha only sighed heavily, before leaning away to look out of the window pane. 

This was painful, sitting here with Chan with all those unresolved feelings burning her loins while he sat, totally oblivious and charming and just so breathtaking that it physically hurt her fingers from stopping any attempts to hold his hand, just touch his skin, just-- feel him. 

“Where’s...Ayeong?” she mumbled against the glass.

Just the name caused her chest to tighten. 

“I dropped her off with the other girls. They’re having a sleepover or something.” 

“She’s not spending the night with you?” 

“No.” 

“Ohh how dumb of her,” the words rolled off her tongue so easily now that there was alcohol swimming through her veins. It actually felt good to know that Ayeong was not to be with Chan that night, “it’s her-- it’s her lossss.” 

“Oh you are so drunk.” 

“I am...” she hiccuped and threw him a scowl, “not drunk!” 

Chan chuckled, reaching over to ruffle her hair playfully and that simple act merely got her heart racing, “I’ll see if I have some extra aspirin to give you for your headache tomorrow--” 

"Chan, can I--can I tell you something?” 

He stopped at the red light and as his head turned, eyes finding hers in the darkness of the morning hours, a surge of courage suddenly overtook her.

She wanted to blame it on the alcohol even though deep down Micha was certain a small part of her had always wanted to let her best friend in on the most deepest, darkest secret she wished she could carry to her grave.

But this secret that had been eating her from the inside out, was something that was making her heart to burst at the seams. And while she never even imagined of hurting Chan that way, she knew that this was inevitable. It had to be done, for her to move on from it. Because she’d realized then and there, that it would be impossible for her to just bury those feelings away, no matter how hard she tried.

So that left her with no other choice.

“I think that,” her hand rose up as if on instinct to poke his cheek then, eyes drooping with sleep, “I think I....might be in love with you.” 

-----

Tagging: @allyg-onz​ @elysianxshepherd​ @rindomo​ @freckledquokka​ @maedesculpaeusoubi​ @missskzbiased​ @seungoclock​

[helpinghanikan]

Sleeping arrangements

Avengers (and Matt Murdock x Reader)

Sum:  It's late and the bed is so nice. It's time to sleep and to bring your heroes along with you. (Fluffy little snippets of sleepy time with the Avengers)

Steve Rogers:

It’s the last train home and only one thing in this world is warm. The wall of Steve Rogers your head rested against was beating softly through the jacket and shirt he wore. Keeping your arms around his center to keep any of the heat from getting away. His own arm protects around your shoulders, keeping you in and gibing his hand something to do instead.

He could’ve driven, he should’ve driven, instead he wanted to take the train. He wanted to walk around like he did years and years before, but this time with your hands intertwined.

Although far away the train has started to shake the earth. Taking you out of the almost sleeping world and back into this cold one. The change in worlds brings out a yawn and lets the cold back in. It’s been a long day. With your eyes closed and clothes heavier than they could ever be Steve was the only thing keeping you up. His chin rests on your head after a while, thumb rubbing over your shoulder as the train finally pulled to a stop.

Inside it was the same story but in a seated position. Guided into his lap and landing with a groan as it was just so much work. The practically empty strain allowed your legs to stretched straight out over the seats.

Steve could stay awake longer than most, but he was tired. He was cold and annoyed and really wished he had driven instead of taking this stupid train. He took his frustration out on squeezing you tight, holding on as if you were liable to fall right out of the seat if he let go. At least it was warmer inside the train.

Tony Stark:

Someone staying up late, not getting enough sleep, and making exhaustion their personality trait is funny for maybe week. But After days of trying to coax him to come to bed, to try something other than just giving up on sleep or even talking to a doctor it gets concerning. After weeks of these same issues, it becomes frustrating.

Everyone, from Pepper to Peter have done their fair share of lecturing. Happy has gone out of his way in helping you get the dumbass to appointments. All of which he has walked right out because, unfortunately, he was still an adult who could make his own decisions.

It’s only after using the nuclear word that he pays attention.

“Anthony,” You say just before he leaves the room.

Although speaking to his back he does stop. His shoulders have tensed under the t-shirt and he’s listening in.

There’s an audio book’s worth of things you could say about this issue. But it would all be a repeat that he’s heard before, from many different mouths. Instead, you kept it simple, not even bothering to turn on the light.

“You didn’t even try.” It comes out from a tired partner just wanting the best for him. Yet Tony walks away from the advice, again.

Thor:

Power doesn’t stop for sleep. It’s still in the air when he’s laying sideways towards the window. Because of the whole nighttime thing it’s hard to tell if clouds are actually coming in or darkening. Maybe you’re just insane but Mr. Weatherman didn’t say anything about rain tonight, right?

It was a jolt that really woke you up. Looking over your shoulder at the expanse of muscular back. Thor movements were always a bit too…loud for this world. Whether running through a fight or moving in his sleep it calls attention to everyone. He doesn’t mean to, but it does wake you up enough to see your glass is dryer as a bone.

As if reading your mind, the rain has come down. It could almost be described as torrential how hard it was all coming down. Matching the dramatics of rain, a lightning strike coming straight down into some poor tree.

This wasn’t the first time Thor had a nightmare. Asgardians just seemed to be humans 2.0, making Thor just as a victim to horror as we humans are. At the same time, he was still another worldly being, translating to giving him a few feet when waking him up.

Another strike of lightening and another tree is taken out of this world. Without the lights on that blast was your only moment of lightening. The rest of the journey made to Thor’s side of the bed was done in darkness and pounding rain. Following the outlined Asgardian until reaching his shoulder. A gentle hand on his should does nothing. A little shake and a whispered “Thor,” finally does the trick.

The two strikes of lightening outside somehow reached his eyes. For the briefest of seconds blue, cracking energy is directed right at you. Stopping just as quickly as they appeared, replaced with Thor’s regular blue eyes that blink a few times.

“What is it?” he asks.

There’s no point in telling him the truth about his nightmares and their effect. Then again, there’s no point in lying either. Instead, it’s better to distract. “It’s still super early. Back to bed.” You say instead, kissing with until he takes the hit and holds you.

Bucky Barnes:

Sleep is a luxury that isn’t worth chasing. With the pillows and sheets there were nightmares and enemies that could sense his weakness. Trying to get at least six hours and all that guarantees is waking up sweaty and a call to doc, making sure to get everything back in order before you could ever notice.

Instead, he takes walks. Maps out the city at night, the changes and differences that happened without him. He recognizes the buildings, the structures and bricks that were too strong to be a victim to time.

Most of the time he does this alone. Watching a show about nothing until you were asleep before starting his walk. But there were times you catch him, calling out to him like the neighborhood cat trying to get away. Getting on your own shoes and jacket quickly. Then enforcing the handholding during the little adventure.

It’s only when passing by something important that words are shared. “One of my buddies worked here when this place was a mechanic. Broke his leg just before the draft, I still think it was on purpose.” He’d say then never bring it up again.

These walks are always shorter than most. After two times Bucky learned when to make the loop back home with you. When your building comes back into view the handholding has gotten sweaty. The walking had slowed to a crawl and you were dragging him down by the arm. Even less talking was done after getting through the door; just landing face down onto the bed without bothering about the shoes.

These kind of walks were Bucky’ favorite.

Natasha Romanoff:

The bed was used almost exclusively for sleeping. As the couch was both comfy and expensive. And, as Nat puts it, “Should we do it with the lights off too? Under the covers like grandparents?” Although it was probably another reason to use the overpriced couch more often.

Like any good, and overworked, soldier Nat could sleep anywhere. When a mission is done, and there’s nothing to worry about, a shower and a nap is the best in the world.

“I smell nice,” She says walking into the living after the shower. Steam still behind her, hair wrapped up and a sweater purposefully bought to be several sizes too big.

She stretches and lays over you like a cat. Resting as close as possible so you, too, can smell the expensive shampoo she uses. Making sure that the body wash isn’t ignored either as that, too, was expensive.

“Might as well spend this pay on something,” She says when asked about the prices.

Although she asks what you’re up to she won’t be awake for the answer. Already teetering into sleep land when you answer.

Natasha was as athletic as she was heavy. Only sometimes managing to carry her bridal style and most of the time having to walk/guide her into the bedroom. Either letting her drop onto the bed with the same weight you had carried in, or she holds fast and takes you down with her.

Just like a cat, Natasha gets to decide cuddle time.

T’challa:

Although the mattress was new, the bed’s size was traditional, and passed on through generations of rulers. Forget California king bed, A Wakanda king bed was that and a half. Ten feet length, twelve feet tall. Combined with blankets, pillows and more it was easy to disappear into the thing. But it was also easy to get lost in it all.

In the middle of the night, in the very center of this ocean of bed, you can reach out forever. Finding pillows (both the decorative and the usable kind), smaller blankets or stuffed animals that have managed to be added. But it’s a tiresome journey, one that doesn’t seem to have an end even as you stretched to pointed toes and fingers.

It’s only after touching body heat that you can relax. Finally finding your king that turns to your touch. Making his own journey through sheets and bedding. Using you as the trail into his love. Neither of you thinking about the absolute nightmare it will be to make this bed tomorrow.

Pietro Maximoff:

For most of his life Pietro is moving. Be it running or just running his mouth, he’s not the kind of guy to sit still. Unfortunately, this also applies to sleeping.

“He’s been sleep walking since we were children,” Wanda once said. “Our father once found him crying in a puddle. He had slipped and woken up in the street. He’ll deny crying, though.”

As an adult Pietro doesn’t actively get up and walk around anymore. The man made up of strong and lean muscle still moves quite a bit. Waking up from freezing feet finding yours or because he’s sat upright in bed again. Using soft, but firm, pressure to get him to lay back down or to guide him back to his side of the bed. If you weren’t careful his arms would find you, almost dragging you back to his side of the bed.

He'd deny it in the morning. Smiling with barely open eyes as you’re still pressed against him. No matter how much you’re going to insist this was his fault he’d still mock you. Nuzzling in since you insist on cuddling so much.

Peter Parker:

There’s a time limit next when sitting next to Peter. You have ten minutes before his head finds your shoulder. If you don’t shrug or lean away he’ll stay there, slowly leaning in until he’s all settled.

Although not completely asleep he does rest. If your hands are held in those moments you could probably feel his pulse slow down as his breathing slows. Maybe his eyes manage to stay open, but his eyes do get heavy. Someone could say his name, and he’d respond, but it be from his throat. An annoyed groan directed to whoever was ruining this moment. Even if it was usually a teacher or adult.

It’s only when traveling, and you’re sitting for a while, that he completely falls asleep. Progressing past just leaning his head and adding his arms. If you allow him, putting an arm around your back and the other over your center. With your own arm over his back, he sleeps in a position that, although sweet, always left a pain in his neck. Something he’d complain about until you ask if he want’s you to rub his shoulders.

Stephen Strange:

During aura projection Stephen’s body is dead weight. No muscles or bone working with the individual trying to help them. It’s just taken over by gravity and his entire weight wants to be on the floor. Sleep does the same thing.

Short of a bucket of water to his face he won’t wake up. Part of his experience in med school was taking every bit of use sleep could give him. Which leads to sleeping fast, and sleeping hard, usually opened mouth. No snoring yet, but the moment he does there’s an open target for shutting him up.

Matt Murdock:

It’s a mixture of meditation and caffeine that he is still functioning. Too busy, much too busy, as a lawyer for the two of you to share a bed most of the time. Making any comments you have about his sleep schedule mute.

Watching him doesn’t change give any information either. Coffee in the morning, some deep breathing and self-centering in the between moments at work, and sleep ins on days off were all you could gather. Between that it’s easier to just assume he’s fine.

Just laugh at his “not like I need to rest my eyes,” jokes and move on.

Carol Danvers:

After going through every time change known to man, alien and beyond Carol has developed a very specific still. Carol Danvers, woman with the power of a star and to sleep literally anywhere at any time. Be it a cleared-out corner of some ship, an open floor that keeps her hidden from passersby or on your lap. The latter being her personal favorite.

Like a massive golden retriever, she wants to be in the middle of your lap. Close as possible with a arm holding around your shoulder and the other on her toy, or phone.  A being of wiry muscle and heat keeping you pinned to the couch. Most of the time she’s out ten minutes into the movie, most of the time the remotes’ out of reach, and most of the time you gotta go pee.

[rintarouweb]

BOYFRIEND HCS | SUNA RINTAROU

pairing: suna x gn!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: brief mentions of alcohol/being drunk, (brief) mentions of periods

word count: 1094

notes: i hope you all enjoy <3

⇢ documents everything. he’s 100% going to have most of his phone storage taken up with photos and videos of you. they can vary from being pictures of you sleeping, drooling and all, or pictures where both the angle and lighting are perfect and you look ethereal

⇢ despite all the embarrassing pictures and videos he has of you, suna will let you pick out what pictures/videos you’re okay with him showing people. his younger sister isn’t included in people, though, she gets to see all the pictures you don’t want people to see

⇢ following my last point - i think suna would introduce you to his younger sister once he started to get more serious about your relationship. despite his sister being a few years younger than him, they have a close bond and at the end of the day, nothing would make rintarou happier than for his little sister and s/o to get along

⇢ he shows that he cares by remembering small and almost random things about people. at the start of your relationship, he had locked notes in his phone with your food and drink orders from your favorite places. now he remembers them by heart

⇢ he’d be really into getting you things that were matching but they weren’t really out there. simple things like matching jewellery, the same keychain, matching stuffies, whatever you’re into

⇢ rin isn’t against going out for dates but he prefers dates where you two are relaxing and spending time together the most. if you argue that something you do several times a week doesn’t count as a ‘real date’ he’ll argue with you (light heartedly of course) over what a real date is and isn’t

⇢ he’s sort of a lazy boyfriend but that’s not at all a bad thing. he puts in more effort than it seems. that’s more than clear after he went on a rant about your different facial expressions, what they mean, and how he can figure out what your mood is based off of your face. yes, he was drunk. and yes, atsumu recorded the entire thing

⇢ will send you pictures of the most random things and he’ll caption it with “look it’s us” or “reminded me of you.” sometimes it’s cute but when he’s sending you a pictures of a grown man in a winnie the pooh costume captioned with “thinking of you <3″ it’s not so cute

⇢ if you like plushies - he’ll definitely spoil you with them! he’ll come home with a few small plush toys randomly, handing them to you like it’s an every day thing. and if there’s any sort of small thing you’re really into or like collecting, he’d try to learn more about those things and get you a few as gifts randomly

⇢ he’s definitely a huge cuddle bug. loves cuddling. loves naps. loves napping with you. if you’re busy, there’s a 8/10 chance that suna will appear and just drape himself over you and rest his head on your shoulder/head. if he’s being an ass then he’ll force all his body weight onto you so you both end up falling

⇢ sharing a bed with suna at the start of your relationship was a disaster to put it simply. he could not stay still in his sleep at all but eventually he adjusted to sharing a bed with someone and now claims he doesn’t sleep as well if you’re not with him

⇢ when it comes to petnames, terms of endearment, etc. sunarin probably sticks to classics like baby, babe, possibly bub or bubba. but if you have a petname you like he’ll definitely call you that to make you happy! enjoys complimenting his partner so it’s not uncommon for him to call you things like “pretty baby”, “handsome baby”, “cute baby”, etc. (depending on what you’re comfortable with!)

⇢ if you are someone who has a period - don’t worry! suna is basically a human heating pad. no but seriously, he’s not entirely clueless when it comes to those things but he still is... clueless? at first he probably wouldn’t realize how bad your period is until you sit down and explain things to him. from there he’ll be mindful to be more cautious around you during that time of the month just in case you’re more sensitive than usual!

⇢ if you have cramps, period or not, he’d be willing to either lay on top of you and ‘absorb the pain’ or rub your stomach, back, hips, etc. until the painkillers kick in and ease up

⇢ suna LOVES showing you off. it’s usually more subtle but depending on the occasion he won’t be opposed to going all out and being a bit more bold

⇢ if you two adopt a pet together, he will seriously call it your child. you best believe he’ll be treating it as such as well. he’ll never admit to it but he will talk to your pet like it’s your baby

⇢ he has a clear phone case just so he can stick a polaroid of the two of you, or just one of you, in the back of it. when you two take polaroid pictures, he’ll make you take two in the same pose so you’re both able to have one of the same picture

⇢ rin will 100% let you paint his nails and do his makeup if you’re up for it. he’s still shy about it but he has told you he’s thought about wearing makeup a few times. he just thinks it’s pretty

⇢ his lockscreen is either a very cute picture of the two of you or a picture he took of you while you were scarfing down fast food in at midnight

⇢ while he does want his privacy, suna gets a kick out of showing you of in general and that includes his social media. he probably has a private account he follows some friends on, so most of the posts on his private accounts/stories are just about you and your daily activities

⇢ i don’t think suna’s the best at giving advice but he’s not entirely terrible at it either. he’s a good listener, though, so if you ever need to vent and get something off of your chest, he’s happy to listen and be there for you. and if you’ve had a bad day and you don’t wish to talk about it, he’ll be more than happy to just be cuddled next to you while watching tv

[anika-ann]

Stockings (S.R.)

Type:  Modern-college-professor AU - part of Attached series or a standalone

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 3000

Summary: You just wanted to decorate the apartment for a bit, you swear.

It wasn’t your fault that it was impossible to stay with your mind out of the gutter for longer than five minutes whenever Steve was around.

A/N: No knowledge of Attached needed I think 😉 Feel free to read as a standalone, you’ll find it in my masterlist as both.

A/N 2: For @wonderlandmind4​ ‘s challenge. Congrats on your follower count and for coming up with this awesome challenge!

Prompt: “Those - weren’t the kind of stockings I had in mind-“ (bold in text)

Warnings: suggestive themes, implied smut with tiny bit of action so 18+, nsfw, language (always), and one (1) trope that has definitely been used before

Series masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

When the idea of decorating first flashed through your mind, it was, honest to God, completely innocent.

Due to loads of schoolwork, Halloween somehow passed by and you barely noticed, the most festive thing you had done being the indulgent orders of pumpkin spiced lattés and hogging some of the candy for your exam time stress-eating. Candy which just happened to be shaped like spiders, snakes, witches and other lovely stuff.

But that was it and with ditching the spooky holiday and the Thanksgiving which no one in your apartment was allowed to talk about, you itched to celebrate at least one of the holidays in peace and with everything that belonged with it.

Gifts, obviously.

Baking, perhaps.

Decorations, absolutely.

Last year, you and Penny had gone a bit overboard, fully affected by the holiday madness, and bought half the store (well, as much as your financial situation allowed anyway). Your dorm room looked as if Santa puked there, as Penny elaborately put it, but you both adored it.

Now, with Steve, you knew you had to be considerably more restrained.

Not that he would notice if your apartment turned into a damn Santa village, because he was too preoccupied with grading midterm papers. Non-stop, it seemed. The pile never ever appeared to be reducing.

However, you and Steve had set a rule that even if you were both crazy busy, you’d make time for at least one or two evenings together – simply to take few moments to fully appreciate each other’s company.

That night, Steve’s mind wandered despite trying to stay focused on you, you could tell. You felt for him, you truly did… but you missed him. Your time together, truly together, became so rare lately and--- you didn’t want to end up like the couple that kisses goodnight and good-morning just because they share quarters and a bed, and ignores one another for the rest of the day.

Rather than letting the gloomy thoughts consume you though, you tried a different approach; humour.

After all, that was how your relationship had started, along with loads of awkwardness.

“Penny says hi, by the way,” you said casually, practically feeling Steve’s absence despite his body engulfing you as you cuddled on the couch, movie on your laptop playing in the background which neither of you were watching.

Steve hummed, his fingers never ceasing the comforting strokes on your arm.

You adored him, you did – which really was the reason why you couldn’t but mess with him, tease him for his mental trip to the far-away lands.

“She and Bucky hooked up again.”

“Mm.”

“She still claims he was the best she ever had.”

“Oh, that’s interesting,” Steve muttered, almost as if he was actually listening to you.

“I’m meeting them tomorrow both, because they offered me a threesome.”

“That’s nice.”

The corners of your lips twitched. God, Steve was lucky to have you to take his mind off his job sometimes, otherwise he would work himself into the ground with how much of his brain space was filled with university matters. He was so detached from life sometimes…

“Bucky asked if he could film it, do you think I should say yes?”

“Whatever you think—wait WHAT?!” he cried out, sitting up straight, hence pushing you up too since you had been nestled on his chest.

Giggles erupted from your throat as you watched his perplexed and scandalized face, realization slowly dawning on him as he probably went over the last few sentences that left your mouth – and his expression gradually melted into an apologetic one, blending into exhaustion as he ran his hand down his face.

You cupped his cheeks then, leaning in to plant a kiss on his forehead – you would swear it was a fraction hotter than normal, his poor brain overheating – and stifled the aww threatening to spill when Steve closed his eyes contentedly, a hum vibrating in his chest.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing your lips chastely before wrapping his arms around you to hold you close again, face nuzzling your hair. “I’m listening now.”

You curled into his warmth, much more welcoming than the comforter wrapped around you.

“It’s okay, Stevie. I know you’re tired. We’ll just call it a night.”

“But you wanted to talk about something?” he protested softly, earning a hum in affirmation.

“Just wanted to ask if you’d be okay with me decorating the apartment? Just a bit, to bring a piece of the Christmas spirit in here?”

You could feel his smile against your scalp as his thumb caressed your shoulders blades, his large form shifting for a bit.

“We both live here, sweetheart,” he reminded you and you made a tiny sound of protest. Yes, he was correct, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t consult him on stuff before messing with the interior, even if it was with the best intentions. Duh. “But I appreciate you asking. Decorations, huh?”

You withdrew, meeting his tired eyes with a barely-there twinkle. You smiled at up at him innocently, showing him a tiny space between your thumb and index finger.

“Just a little bit. Just the basics…”

“Uh-huh. The basics. So that’s what? Christmas lights, stockings, mistletoe, a tree?” he mused, his thumb moving to your chin, to your lower lip, brushing it tenderly as you nodded minutely with a smile. His irises lit up a fraction with that image he must have painted in his mind and you felt familiar warmth around your heart at the sight. “I guess we’ll have to talk about getting a tree then. But it sounds nice, babygirl. The mistletoe in particular.”

He proceeded to capture that lips with his, lazy but indulgent kiss that sent pleasant sparkles down your spine and yet made you sleepy as it was soothing, feeling like home.

“Yeah. Sounds nice,” you echoed dreamily, meeting his lips again in a short kiss before nudging him to stand up so you could begin to move to bed.

Only later it occurred to you just how nice you could do with the stuff Steve had mentioned if you tried – and you fell asleep in his arms, a menacing grin that would make Grinch green with envy on your lips.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Carrying the box after hanging one mistletoe branchlet in the kitchen along with very few fairy lights in the window, you were ready to move onto the bedroom, where Steve was, again, working.

Not for long, you hoped – after all, you put notable effort into your appearance.

With a small smirk on your lips, you knocked on the separating wall, peeking from behind it, trying your best not reveal too much.

Steve didn’t even bother looking up, a semi-loud hum the only sign of him acknowledging your presence.

“I’m gonna decorate this room… you mind me messing around for a bit?” you asked, attempting to sound compassionate about his workload, which you were, and perfectly innocent, which you were not.

That got him eye you briefly, an unconvincing smile passing his lips.

“Sure, go ahead,” he encouraged you softly. He turned his gaze back to the papers on his desk and started writing notes before you could even respond – hence missing your victorious smile.

“Thanks!”

You gleefully walked in, steps soundless against the floor thanks to the thin fabric covering your soles, and placed the box on your own desk.

The rustle of papers and the sudden lack of scribbling sound had you biting your cheek so you wouldn’t burst out laughing.

Steve cleared his throat loudly; when you looked at him over your shoulder however, he went back to reading his damn papers.

You swallowed your disappointment, trying not to think much of it – Steve could be very patient when he wanted to be – or very impulsive. And sometimes, he was both at the same time.

So you pressed your lips together and removed the other branchlet of mistletoe from the top of the box, following with Christmas lights, putting whatever you needed on the desk.

“Sweetheart…” Steve’s voice sounded from his seat, partly amused, partly… hoarse, affected, and you had to bite your lips so the giggles wouldn’t spill out. “What are you wearing?”

You turned to him, making a show of checking your outfit, letting your palms sprawl over your barely covered thighs and slowly moving them up, the hem of Steve’s loose ivory sweater hiking up an inch and revealing the lace of your thigh-high crimson stockings; perhaps even offering a peek of the straps holding them in place due to the garter belt.

“Your old sweater… and stockings,” you offered with a one-shoulder shrug, cool as cucumber in December – or as yourself teasing your loveable boyfriend at the end of November – on the outside, giddy on the inside as his gaze trailed all over your figure, wavering at the lace and the patch of skin on display, before focusing on your face.

“Those-- those weren’t the kind of stockings I had in mind-- when I, uhm, talked about decorating this place,” he explained.

He sounded almost patient, as if it wasn’t clear as day. His irises, however, were not clear – a cloud of desire covered them, turning them a shade darker, hungrier.

It sent a pleasant shiver up your spine, heat pooling in your belly, satisfaction at inching closer to your goal causing your chest nearly puff with pride.

“Oh, my bad!” you exclaimed, chuckling self-depreciatingly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you eyed Steve from under your eyelashes, picture perfect of innocence… not. “Silly me! I’m sorry, I know how much you hate me in stockings…”

“Babygirl…”

His voice resembled a growl, a low warning not to toy with him – which was exactly what you did want to do, teasing him shamelessly when having added emphasis on him not liking your attire.

Stockings and/or his clothes on you got your boyfriend going in fact, sometimes for hours even, thank you very much.

“Yes, Steve?”

“This isn’t going to work, you know. I really have to finish these,” he stated and you most definitely didn’t imagine the impatience and his dislike towards his task sneaking into his voice.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. These are just…” you bit gently on your lower lip, sliding your palms up and down your thighs, Steve’s gaze following the motion instinctively, pupils dilating with the craving to replace your hands with his own, “…comfy, just like your sweater. You never minded when I borrowed it before—you know I love stealing it. It just… it smells like you and it’s warm. It’s like you’re all over me. It’s perfect.”

His glare zeroed on your mouth, slightly accented by a natural, yet visible shade of your lipstick. Steve didn’t say a word, simply staring – and shifting slightly in his seat, much to your glee, which hopefully didn’t show too much – and grumbling an unidentifiable noise.

You felt for him, you truly did – god knew that sometimes, you were overwhelmed with schoolwork too – but that didn’t stop you from smiling at him sweetly now, adding an apologetic tone to your next words.

“Sorry. I talk too much. Don’t let me disturb you. You have work to do and so do I. I’ll be as quiet as a mouse.”

Then you spun on your heels and went back to continue your previous activity, laying out decorations on your desk.

Steve only grunted behind you, but you could hear him as he started going through the papers again, probably trying – and hopefully failing – to ignore your presence.

It wasn’t that you wanted to be mean, there was no single drop of malice in your plan; Steve needed to get his head off his work for a bit, even if he wasn’t aware of it. The way he was overworking himself was beginning to threaten to his sanity.

You simply wanted to help and this was just the way that had crossed your mind first; it was entirely on Steve and his stupidly perfect everything that you couldn’t seem to get your head out of the gutter sometimes when in his presence.

You wished nothing more than for him to turn off his brain… and to relax and enjoy himself.

Clearly, he was enjoying the view indeed.

You caught his sharp inhale when you accidentally dropped a tacky plastic Santa and proceeded to bend over to pick it up… offering Steve a perfect view of your rear and revealing the smart garter belt you wore; with nothing as much as a thong, leaving your most intimate areas bare.

You heard him shuffling in the chair and had to smirk, mentally counting down the time until his resolve broke.

He was holding up quite bravely – nearly long enough to make you doubt your ability to seduce him. Except the shuffle of papers that followed sounded as if he was trying to make a point and you knew that the breaking point was on horizon.

So when the time came to set in motion what you assumed would be the final strike – pushing the chair from your desk to the middle of the room to get ready to put your stockings on display right in his natural line of vision – you delicately took the branchlet of mistletoe with you, climbing up and carefully tying it to the lamp.

Steve’s pen hit the desk with a click and you quickly shot him a glance, meeting his stern and yet rather amused eyes. He sighed at your ridiculously unsubtle antics, but one corner of his lips rose anyway.

“Alright, that’s it. Get down here, you little minx,” he huffed.

Oh, sweet victory.

Mirroring his expression, you retorted cheekily: “Come get me.”

There was no missing the dangerous glint in is eye as he rose to his feet and stalked to your chair, a smirk playing on his lips, every movement purposeful and precise as if he was a predator chasing his prey to the corner.

Your breathing picked up as he neared, your heart pounding, chest heaving quickly – fuck, wasn’t it an erotic sight, Steve’s figure cladded in plain t-shirt and sweats, looking up at you as if he was about to eat you alive.

Maybe it was the expression on his face, somewhere between aroused, amused, cocky and predatory at the same time. Maybe it was the outline of his semi-hard dick on his sweatpants. But shit, you knew you were in trouble, you loved it, and you might have been this close to drooling. You were glad for forgoing underwear, because it would be absolutely useless and soaked through in an instant.

And Steve hadn’t even started yet.

Stopping right in front of you, craning his neck only a bit to face you (the tall bastard), his wide palms sprawled over your calves, their heat warming you from inside out.  

An appreciative hum rumbled in his chest as his touch trailed up at torturously slow pace, drinking in the sight of your ragged breaths, indulging in every inch he laid his hands on. You couldn’t withhold the shudder running through your whole body and his grin widened.

“You’re such a fucking tease….” he whispered, licking his lips as his gaze fell lower again, following the movements of his hands, clasping the back of your thighs now, inching toward their inner part, fingers brushing the hem of your stockings.

“Is it-“ You had to clear your throat against the lump that grew there, your body buzzing with anticipation, the smart remark growing heavy on your tongue. “Is it teasing when you can just take what you want?”

He chuckled, a delicious dark sound, bringing more slickness between your legs, much to his apparent satisfaction as he set eyes on his prize.

“Downright naughty…”

His mouth landed softly on the inside of your right calf, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs to nudge them few inches apart to make space for him.

“Does that… uhm, does that mean I won’t be getting any presents from Santa this year?”

You had genuinely no clue how you managed to form a sentence through the fog of arousal around your brain, only growing thicker when Steve’s teeth grazed the skin above your knee, his fingertips brushing an extremely sensitive spot so close to your core.

“You could come down now, be a very good girl and I might put in a good word for you,” he muttered, biting down some more, drawing a mewl from your lips, another one escaping you when he snapped one of the strings holding your stockings in place.

The sharp gentle pain was enough to make words roll off your tongue.

“You think that would work?”

“Oh sweetheart…” Steve chuckled again, a huff of breath warming your thighs, before his eyes, wide-blown and hungry, met yours. “If it doesn’t… you can be damn sure I’m gonna give you fucking everything I have.”

You yelped when his grip on the back of your thighs tightened and he tugged you forward, your hands instantly going to his shoulders to maintain balance as you found yourself with no surface under your feet all of sudden.

He grinned up at you – the show-off, but by God, wasn’t the demonstration of strength setting your body on fire, rendering you speechless – and slowly lowered you to the ground, half-lidded eyes zeroed on your lips. He made damn sure that you felt his erection against your body at all time as he always loosened his grip and tightened it a second later, until your feet touched the ground – and yet you felt your legs shaking, unsteady with the need to feel more of him.

It dawned to you how crazy he managed to drive you, your roles reversed, your plan backfiring. But was it? Backfiring? Because you couldn’t wait to see how it would unfold--

His hands slipped under the sweater you stole from him, one grasping your hip to hold you tight against his body, fingers of the other diving into the pool of slick between your legs, causing you to jerk forward into his hand.

He leaned down to nip at the skin of your neck right under your ear, forefinger circling your clit for a good measure, drawing a needy moan from you.

“And I bet you’re gonna take it…” he hummed into your ear, satisfied smile audible in his hoarse voice, “and thank me for it like the good girl you are.”

You barely forced the words out, heavy with desire but any less true.

“Yes, Professor Rogers. I think I will.”

“Damn right.”

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S.R. masterlist

Attached masterlist

The One Word (next in timeline)

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I really wanted to come up with an original title… and failed. Also, it was supposed to be a drabble, but you know that I tend to babble… and rhyme, apparently.

Thank you for reading and for any kind of feedback :-*