#anyways i do have a fic idea to sort of go along with this but lmao i need to finish WPOU first and see how the idea pans out

[rhiannonsknife]

oh i am OBSESSED with that detective!r and rhiannon fic... if you don't mind i have Thoughts about it

it's a little different from what you proposed but detective!r who doesn't know rhiannon but rhiannon knows you... she always comes back to the scene of the crime and lately she's been noticing this pesky little detective sticking your nose where you don't belong

so, she does some research. and by god, she's obsessed with you

she's stopped killing people for her own personal reasons - she's completely consumed with killing to see your reaction, the way you curse out the killer under your breath every time you see a new body

when she starts writing your name in blood at the scene, you know that you're in far too deep to go back

to make it even better, you've tried interrogating her. she was one of your most pleasant witnesses and she even offered to take you out to get coffee. the whole time you were there with her, she was so sweet and so kind, offering to pay for both of your orders. she couldn't have anything to do with it; she was just an innocent girl who was caught in the crosshairs of this gruesome serial killer. right? right?

need her so effing bad UGHHH -🪐

— warnings: canon typical violence/dark content. obsessive!rhiannon & possessive!rhiannon. gn!reader. some suggestive content. didn’t beta read (as always).

— a/n: this ask had me thinking omfg.

rhiannon who gets obsessed with you the moment she first sees you.

it all starts the moment she first sees you at the scene of her latest kill. she tends to linger, to watch from afar to see how the investigation is coming along. it’s not like people tend to pay attention to rhiannon’s presence anyway, so she’s comfortable to stay and see what’ll happen. you’re different from the other detectives, she instantly senses that. and, oh, how she hates it -at first. you’re clearly underestimated by your colleagues, despite the fact that you’re much better and smarter than all of them combined. you catch details others are unaware of until you point them out with an intensity rhiannon hadn’t expected. for the first time ever, she feels a thrill from something other than killing.

that night, she spends hours researching all that she can find out about you.

sprawled out on her couch, rhiannon spends hours combing through your social media, any public records, and every small mention of your life she can find online. by the end of it, she knows your favorite coffee shop, the route you take to work, and even the way you laugh, thanks to an obscure interview clip she found buried online. she imagines what it would be like to meet you in a “normal” setting. just two strangers talking over coffee. she imagines all sorts of scenarios, picturing countless ways of how she could get you to notice her. but that’s not enough. she needs more.

rhiannon who starts killing for you.

before she 'met' you, she'd been killing for her own satisfaction the most of all: murdering people who wronged her, people who continue to underestimate her, who pretend like she's not there at all 90% of the time. that is until she meets you. once she has gathered enough information about you and has learned that you are the one who's taking over the investigation of her murder case, she makes it her mission for you to see her. she's consumed by the idea of murdering for you.

obviously, you can't figure out that it's her. but she can still very much get your attention:

when you start to find your name scrawled in blood at multiple crime scenes, your stomach twists. you don’t know if it’s taunting or a bizarre kind of flirtation, but you can’t shake the feeling that this killer has an extremely personal fixation on you. rhiannon finds a sick satisfaction in knowing that she’s the only one who truly understands you. and that soon, you’ll understand her, too.

rhiannon, whose obsession only gets worse.

she starts following you around, whether it's by walking after you at a safe distance or by driving her dad's truck. only being in your presence thrills her. she can't think of anything that's not the next kill and what she can leave behind for you at the crime scene this time. after a while, you start to receive anonymous letters at your home. they’re handwritten, sweet, and yet filled with hints that leave a chill down your spine: each one contains personal details only someone very close (or very obsessed) would know. you start to dread going home alone each night, wondering if the killer is watching even then.

and, still, you're determined to catch this killer.

it's almost like you're just as obsessed with solving this case: you work relentlessly and stay in for much longer than anyone would ever know, sometimes running on no sleep at all just to try and connect the dots that are scattered all across your hometown in from of bloody crime scenes. once, while working late, you glance up from your desk to find somebody outside the station, watching through the window. it's just a silhouette that waves and, before you can react, turns and disappears into the shadows.

she makes watching you from afar a habit she can't seem to shake off:

hidden in plain sight, she watches you work a scene, observing your expressions as you piece together clues she’s laid just for you. the way you curse under your breath or tense at a particularly dark detail excites her; it’s like she’s guiding you through a personal maze, she’s drawing you closer with every carefully crafted move.

rhiannon, who even goes as far as to leave gifts for you right at your doorstep.

they’re seemingly innocent items: flowers, trinkets, chocolates...always with notes like “you looked tired today” or “thought you’d like this.” but you know better. there’s nothing innocent about these gestures; they’re reminders that she’s closer than you think. in one of her letters, she writes: “every kill is for you.” the revelation is twisted, sick even, but the obsessive way she describes her admiration for you leaves you feeling trapped in her gaze. you start to wonder if this chase will end only when she’s taken everything from you. or if you’ll end up her final victim.

at this rate, she catches feelings for you before she even knows what's happening to her:

she follows you on a night out, intrigued by how you relax away from work. when you laugh with friends, she feels a strange jealousy toward anyone who’s close to you. to rhiannon, this outing feels like an unofficial date, watching you from a corner as if she’s already a part of your life. later, she imagines herself sitting beside you, whispering her secrets in your ear, knowing she could charm you if given the chance.

rhiannon, whose obsession which was originally supposed to be a cat-and-mouse game that she was in control over, turns into a sense of possessiveness.

alone in her room, she whispers your name just to hear the sound of it aloud. she fantasizes about how you’d react if you knew she’d been studying you so closely if you knew that every kill from here on out was a twisted attempt to draw you closer. rhiannon, who somehow steals something from you, whether it is by sneaking into your home whilst you're out or by reaching into your purse in passing. either way, she uses it, later that same night, when she's home alone and dares to touch herself to the thought of you. she finds herself almost longing for you to figure it out, to see her completely. she’s begun to view each kill as a love letter, a message only you can fully understand, and in some dark corner of her mind, she starts to believe you might actually feel the same way.

but even that is not enough for her. she wants you to know her. to look at her, without the slightest clue who's really in front of you.

so, rhiannon plays the role of the clueless witness: after a particularly grisly scene, she shows up at the station, pretending to have seen something, and strikes up a surprisingly casual conversation with you. she even convinces you to take a break for coffee: she offers to buy, her voice light and friendly, as if she’s not the very person keeping you up at night.

rhiannon, who starts accidentally running into you.

she begins appearing in unexpected places: your favorite bookstore, the cafe near your precinct, and even outside the gym. she plays it off like coincidence, but you can’t shake the feeling she’s watching you. every “chance” encounter leaves you more on edge, especially as her excuses get flimsier, her curiosity too intense for a stranger. her gaze lingers just a bit too long, and she throws out casual details she should never know about you. but then again, there's no way this innocent woman could ever be responsible for all these gruesome crimes, right...?

you brush off these suspicions, not really believing that rhiannon could be capable of these murders.

and still, during another coffee date (which become a habit between the two of you) she drops a casual line, mentioning a detail about your personal life you never told her: maybe the nickname your family used or an obscure detail about your childhood. when you press her about it, she insists that she read it somewhere or “just remembered” from one of your conversations. but her gaze lingers, enjoying how much she’s unsettling you.

rhiannon, who starts acting possessive over you without really noticing it herself.

out in public, she lets her fingers brush against yours. she’ll throw an arm around you casually, especially when she notices other people noticing. to rhiannon, it’s a game of establishing her claim, marking her territory.

after some time, she finally invites you to her place, claiming she wants to “return the favor” of all your coffee dates.

when you arrive, the atmosphere is too perfect, too staged, with dim lighting and chillingly specific music playing softly. every word she says feels more like a veiled confession, every look a taunt as she watches you grapple with the tension between attraction and horror. it’s not until you see a framed newspaper clipping of one of her murders in the hall that you realize she wanted you here for more than a simple dinner...

[tea-earl-grey]

IT'S FINALLY FINISHED. i spent wayyyy too much time on this compared to the eventual quality but hey. video editing is a steep learning curve and this is only my second fanvid.

anyways i'm obsessed with Her and i trust the people of this fine website are too.

[izzy-b-hands]

Mini s2 blackhands fic-ish thing below the cut

"Fuck," Ed tugs at the rope, then at his belled collar. "Shit. Okay. Not ideal, but-"

The wind gusts; the rope pulls, and his collar gets tugged with it.

He's more or less alone on deck. Everyone else is busy with other chores (not a bad thing, despite being wrecked to shit, the ship's starting to look pretty good), far enough away they can't hear him gag and choke when the rope tugs again.

It's his fault, for not minding the end of the rope as he tied it on to the rest of the rigging, for not making sure it couldn't whip up and get caught under the just loose enough edge of his collar-

A gloved hand lands on the rope, pulling downwards to relieve the tension and let him breathe again.

He makes careful eye contact with Izzy, letting their eyes meet for only a moment. "You don't have to help me."

"No," Izzy sighs. He's slightly off-balance, leaning more with the movement of the ship to stay upright, but how much of that is his adjusting to moving on his new prosthetic versus the result of the rum and whiskey bottles he's been polishing off is uncertain. "I don't."

"They'd tell you not to."

"They might," Izzy shrugs, as he lifts his other hand, and saws through the rope with his knife.

The rope slips away from them, and Ed can finally take good, deep breaths again.

With the tense rope gone to hang onto, Izzy stumbles and trips forward.

He doesn't even have to think about catching him. He just does.

They pause there. Ed helping to hold Izzy up as he gets his balance back. Izzy, holding on to him tightly, but his eyes only on the collar.

"No more rigging work for you," Izzy finally says as he adjusts to stand beside Ed, only partially leaning on him. "Not until that's off. I don't want that happening to you again. If anyone else has anything to say about it-"

"I tell them it came from the orders of the first mate," Ed interrupts gently. "Um. Thank you, for this-"

He hasn't fully let go of Izzy, yet. Nor has Izzy pulled away any further. He's steady now, but Ed's hand still holds at his waist.

Not the first time he's let his hands linger there, after all. It's still, after everything, a comfortable spot for them to be.

"Don't thank me," Izzy sighs, a deep, aching, tired sign. "Just stay alive. For the sake of the Captain."

'And you too?' is what he wants to ask Izzy. But he doesn't.

He forces himself to let go of Izzy, adjusts the collar to be slightly tighter while he watches, and nods. "I can do that. I think. Gonna try, at least."

"All any of us can do," Izzy says. "No more rigging."

"No more rigging," Ed agrees, and watches him walk away towards the Captain's quarters.

He still cares. He shouldn't still care. Ed wants to pull Izzy back and beg him to explain it, how in the fuck does he still care about him after all of this?

But the words strangle themselves in his throat, and there's railing to be painted, easier than trying to force the words out.

Ed kneels to look for the paint brush and small box of paint that's been getting tossed about the deck with each wave, and tries not to shudder when the bell on his collar jingles.

[chlorinecake]

SO PRETTY IT HURTS | rough and handsy sex scenarios with switch!enha legal line ft. nsfw links

⟡ synopsis ⨾ basically just how each enhypen member would feel about you being rough with them in the bedroom

⟡ contains ⨾ NSFW LINKS, hair pulling, biting, slapping/spanking, marking, scratching, and unprotected sex

— HEESEUNG gives off the vibe that he'd be really into having a bit of pain mixed with his pleasure, whether that was you slightly grazing your teeth against his shoulder as he fucked into you, or you desperately clawing at his chest while riding him… Just imagine how cute Heeseung's scrunched up face would look in moments like that, his needy hands clinging unto your ass as his hips thrusted upwards at a rapid pace, both of you chasing your highs...

— JAY wouldn’t be too against the idea of having you rough him up a bit during sex, especially if it meant he was doing a good job of pleasing you... Just the feeling of your fingers tugging at his messy locks while he ate you out would be more than enough to keep him excited until he finally had you bent over on the mattress, holding your ass in place right before filling you up with his warm cum.

— JAKE is the playful type, so I can totally see him enjoying some switchy behavior in the bedroom, round one beginning with him domming you as usual, up until your nails dug into his shoulders for more leverage, bouncing in his lap like a touch deprived fuck bunny... It’d definitely be a tantalizing combination for him, but he always liked feeling crazy with you anyways, biting down on his lip at the sight of you finishing him off.

— SUNGHOON often treated sex with you like some sort of competition, especially whenever you behaved like a brat in need of taming before you two even reached the bedroom... a catty smirk would stain his features at the frustrated look on your face at his teasingly slow thrusts, provoking you to gently tap slap at his chin for a little sexual encouragement... oh when I tell you he’d get so into it after you hit him, fucking into your tightness with all his strength as you squirt all over the sheets, making him go weak in the knees…

— SUNOO doesn’t really strike me as the type to enjoy pain by any means, but it’d always be a treat for him to see you going so crazy underneath him as he fucks into you that his tiny groans could hardly keep you from marking him even more. The guy legitimately never came harder than when you’d tug at his hair while in missionary, or bite into the plush flesh of his neck to contain your moans from how well he was pleasing you …

— JUNGWON seems like such a sucker for rough stuff to me, whether that be on the giving or receiving end... Just imagine it: Jungwon fucking into you with all his might while you let your hazy vision wander, looking at the marks you left along his neck, and how pretty his hands looked wrapped around your waist matching your whimpers with his own as you both chased your highs together…

⚠︎ author’s note: Just another fic I had marinating in the depths of my private posts because it didn't do too well at first... hopefully y'all like what I've done with this time tho !!

⚠︎ tag list: @squoxle @nikisvanillaccola @wonbinisbabygurl @addictedtohobi @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @ot7sevenlvr

⚠︎ path to my enhypen bookshelf if you’re interested !!

[cleo-fox]

Daylight

Summary: Despite your best efforts, Sunday morning doesn’t go as planned…and you couldn’t be happier about it.

Pairings: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, shower sex, fingering, vaginal sex, soft sex, sex that causes you to be several hours late for work, Loki being a (respectful) horn dog.

Series: Overtime (I don't have a masterlist for this yet, but the first fic is here). A/N: This started out as a scene in Overtime that kind of took on a life of its own. You don't necessarily need to read Overtime in order to enjoy or understand this fic, but you'll have more context if you do. Anyway, it was fun revisiting these two idiots--I've got a few more ideas for them up my sleeve, so there will be more in this series at some point.

The sunlight wakes you the next morning.

It’s the same sunlight as always, but it looks different coming through Loki’s window and streaming across his bed. It looks better, you think, splashed across his sheets.

Or maybe it’s the addition of your hand clasped with his resting on those same sheets. Or perhaps it’s the sight of your clothes and his, discarded on the bedroom floor in a pool of sunlight, combined with the fact that you’re still wrapped in his arms. Maybe all of that is why it seems better.

That seems more likely.

You lie still for a moment, simply enjoying the feeling of his arms and the heat of his skin against your bare back. You are reasonably certain he’s asleep from the steady rhythm of his breath on your neck, but you’re not about to disturb the sleepy calm of the morning to confirm that. 

The clock on his bedside table says it’s just after six. Before last night, you would have said that this was a reasonable time to get up—early enough to ensure that you’re in the office by eight, which would hopefully give you enough time to meet this evening’s deadline, but not so early that it makes you question your life and your choices.

But that was before. Now…well. You suddenly find that your priorities look very different from the comfort of Loki’s bed.

You decide that you didn’t really see the clock. Neither one of you thought to set an alarm last night. Sleeping in was inevitable. That’s not your fault. No harm, no foul.

You close your eyes and allow yourself to fall into a light doze, warmed by the sunlight and Loki’s embrace.

Sometime later, you’re woken by the soft brush of a kiss against your neck.

“Did you sleep well?” he murmurs against your neck.

“Yes, though I did have a bit of a late night,” you say. “Someone kept me up.”

“Really? That was rude of him.”

“Very.”

He’s noticeably—achingly—hard. His lips brush against your neck again. “Perhaps he might make it up to you?”

Your intention is to open your eyes, roll over, and allow yourself to be ravished. But in a development you can only describe as tragic, you happen to catch sight of the clock on his nightstand.

7:38 am.

“Shit,” you say. “It’s almost eight.”

Loki is predictably unconcerned about this. “We don’t have any official hours to keep,” he says, his hand skimming along your ribs and down the curve of your waist. “We have all day.”

“Yeah, but we’ve got a ton more to do,” you say, trying to ignore how good he is at kissing your neck or how his hand is drifting down your hip toward the aching pulse between your legs. “We really need every minute.”

“That is true,” he says solemnly. “Perhaps we ought shower together to save time.”

You can’t help but smile. “I kind of feel like you have another agenda.”

“I’d never,” he says.

“The raging hard on pressing against my ass would suggest otherwise.”

You can almost hear him smirk as he gives his hips a teasing little thrust against you. “I contain multitudes.”

You wiggle out of his embrace and slip out of bed. You intend to look back and give him a coquettish look and say something sharp and teasing, but instead, the sight of him takes your breath away. He leans back on his elbows, looking everything like the sort of lounging god you would see depicted in marble at the Parthenon, all chiseled, sharp muscles and clean lines. His cock stands fully erect and deliciously thick, flushed with wanting.

“I can’t help but notice that you didn’t reject the offer,” he says, seemingly fully aware of the path of your gaze. His hand drops to his cock and he strokes himself casually, which very nearly sends your sprinting back to bed.

“You’re right,” you say, trying to keep your cool as you throw him your most beguiling look. “So you should probably hurry up.”

You turn and start walking toward the master bathroom. You don’t need to look over your shoulder to know he’s following you, his gaze hungrily devouring every inch of skin, eyes dark with purpose.

You walk into the master bathroom and are immediately confronted by several flagrant violations of the residential handbook. The TVA is many things, but it is not the sort of place that deviates from set floor plans, nor is it the sort of place that deviates from those plans to install a rainfall shower and soaking tub—in marble, no less.

You think of the stark, vaguely institutional aesthetic in your own master bath and you can’t decide if you’re annoyed at his rule breaking or jealous that he could get away with it.

“I’m not even going to ask if you got approval for this setup because I know you didn’t,” you say as you reach in to the shower to turn on the tap.

“Do you think of anything other than that cursed personnel manual?” he asks as he comes up behind you, his arms snaking around your waist and his lips again finding your neck as he draws you to him.

“First of all, it’s not the personnel manual, it’s the residential handbook, which you specifically agreed to abide by when you signed off on your lease.”

He turns you around so you face him and draws you close, a wicked gleam in his eye, “Oh, I’m going to make you forget all about those ridiculous rules.”

“That’s a pretty tall order—oh.”

His hand is slipping between your legs, stroking your already slick folds.

“I think I’m quite capable of inspiring other passions,” he says, rolling his fingers in a broad circle over the hood of your clit

You loop your arms around his shoulders. You can already feel your knees starting to tremble, but you know he won’t let you fall.

“Bold claim,” you say, “I’m going to need more evidence.”

“Oh, you’re going to get a lot of evidence,” he says softly. He curls a finger inside of you, pressing his thumb against the hood of your clit. “You will have no doubts by the time I’m done presenting my argument. You will be weak-kneed with evidence.”

You shudder as he rocks his hand slowly. He’s touching you enough to stoke the flames of desire, making your hips rock helplessly toward his hand as you try to create that extra friction and pressure that you know will send you flying over the edge. But Loki is meticulous—perhaps even ruthless—about not giving in. 

“Not yet,” he murmurs softly when your latest attempt is thwarted. “Slowly.”

Your pleas become louder and more frequent, but his answer remains the same: slowly. You whimper and beg, but he is resolute.

Steam has fogged up the mirrors and is curling around you when your orgasm finally begins to crest. You suddenly find yourself grateful for his pacing as the intensity builds to a level that makes your knees shake.

“That’s it,” he breathes as you tremble in his arms. “You can come for me now, lovely.”

Like magic, the coil inside you snaps at his command and you cry out as your cunt shudders around his slowly thrusting fingers. Your arms looped around his shoulders are the only thing keeping you standing.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss against your temple as you sag against him. “Beautiful.”

He gives you a moment to get your bearings before leading you into the shower. He sits down on the marble bench, spreading his thighs wide and pulling you into his lap so you straddle his hips. The spray of the water hits your back as he kisses you again, slow and hungry.

You love everything about this. The heat of the water on your back. The closeness. The way his thighs are spread wide. How his cock presses against your bare cunt. The noise he makes low in his throat when you start rubbing yourself against him.

“Need you,” he mumbles against your neck. His hands squeeze your hips and you reach between the two of you to line his cock up at your entrance.

It occurs to you that you could take the opportunity to tease him, to make him beg for you, but pretending that you have any control over your aching need for him is several degrees beyond impossible. So instead, you slowly ease yourself down onto his cock while he groans against your neck, dragging his lips down to the curve of your shoulder.

The feeling of him inside you is still so new that it feels just a little unreal. After all that wanting and yearning and thinking that he was too handsome, too divine, too out of reach to have, he’s suddenly yours and it’s absolutely dizzying. 

You pause for a moment, eyes closed, savoring the feeling of unyielding fullness, of connection. Of him.

“All right?” he asks softly.

You open your eyes and his look of sweet concern makes your heart swell. “Yeah,” you say, a lazy, satisfied smile tugging at your lips. “I just—I needed a moment. You feel—” You pause for a moment, searching for the right words, sifting through the effusive and flowery and the things that are true but too early to say. “You just feel really good,” you say.

It sounds wildly inadequate, but he seems to understand, to hear all of the unsaid parts that you’re keeping close to your heart. He could turn away, say it’s too much too soon, that you haven’t even said what you are yet, much less committed to anything serious, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans forward, drawing you into a slow kiss, his hands framing your face, tracing the curve of your cheek and jaw with the kind of reverence that makes you want to say everything you feel.

“You’re perfect.” He says it in between breaths, with such a disarming sincerity that you can’t bring yourself to try and deflect, to name a flaw or even make a joke.

Later, he will tell you that he was struggling with a similar battle, trying to reconcile how new this was with the depth of feeling that was already blossoming in his chest. He will tell you later that he couldn’t believe you were his, just as you couldn’t believe he was yours, that there was something about you that felt right in a way that made him feel like he knew even then.

But right now, he simply kisses you with a fervor that makes your toes curl and your hips start to move.

It’s only the second time that you’ve done this, but there’s a strange blend of both the new and the familiar. The shape and feel of his body pressed against yours is new, but the way that he moves, the way that he touches you is as though he’s loved you for centuries.

The rhythm you fall into is slow, despite the excuse that this shower was to save time. His hand slides down your stomach, his fingers finding your clit to add another layer of bliss to the feeling of his cock inside you. Despite your slow pace, your ascent rushes in fast and brilliant as a comet blazing through the night sky. Your back arches, almost as though you’re presenting yourself as an offering to him as you come undone in his arms. Loki watches you with a kind of breathless wonder, brow furrowing in pleasure, his lower lip caught between his teeth at the tight clench of your cunt around his cock.

Your legs are rubbery with pleasure, but you keep going because you need his release as much as your own. You need to feel him empty himself inside of you, to hear the low groan he makes as he unravels, to see the way his eyes flutter shut. You want crescent moon marks on your hips from where his hands gripped you too tightly in that final ascent, physical proof that you can make not just a god forget himself, but Loki specifically. Loki with all his masks and tricks and artful poise; Loki laid bare below you, free from all artifice and glibness, raw and real and just as he is. All the parts of him that make you think that down this path lies something wonderful (not that you’re ready to call it love. Yet).

But Loki is nothing if not predictably unpredictable and he seems determined to make you work before granting you that little glimpse at the heaven that is the god of mischief coming undone beneath you.

“Let me feel you come again,” he murmurs as soon as you catch your breath.

���Is once not enough?” you say, trying and failing to sound cool and calm, like you’re not completely wrecked for him.

“Hardly.” His eyes flash in a way that makes you shiver as he urges your hips into a faster rhythm. “I am not so easily satisfied when my need has been so great.”

You can feel the coil in your hips beginning to tighten again.

“I’ve burned for you for years, my love,” he says, his voice going a little shaky. “Would you deny water to a man dying of thirst?”

You shake your head, your words lost to the oncoming wave of your undoing.

“Then do not deny me your pleasure, I am desperate for you.” He’s panting, barely holding on to his composure. “Now come for me again, let me feel you.”

You are so far gone that it only takes a few more strokes to make you come undone and the first shudder of your climax takes Loki with you.

You savor his pleasure more than your own release, memorizing the sound he makes, the way his lips form a silent plea in the shape of your name until he slides a hand up your neck and pulls you down to kiss him.

His kiss is fierce and hungry at first, but it ebbs to something slower and sweeter as he empties himself into you. He sighs as you tangle your fingers in the wet tendrils of his hair.

It’s a long moment later when you finally break the kiss, resting your forehead against his.

“I don’t think we saved any time,” you say.

He doesn’t even open his eyes. “I cannot overemphasize how much I do not care about being late in these circumstances.”

You grin. “Not even a little?”

He kisses you sweetly on the mouth before opening his eyes, his lips curling into a slow and satisfied smile. “I would be late every day for the rest of my life for just a few seconds of that.”

His words spark something warm in your chest and you try to hide it with a wry look. “I’m not sure that you’re getting the better end of the deal.”

He kisses you softly. “You don’t know how good you feel.”

“You’re one to talk,” you murmur against his lips and he smiles as he deepens the kiss.

The warmth of his body pressed against yours and the feeling of him smiling as he kisses you is a kind of luxury you’ve never imagined. It takes you a while to untangle yourselves, but you can’t find it in yourself to move any faster.

The actual showering part of your shower is slow and unhurried and you find that Loki’s hands are equally gifted at these mundane tasks. His fingers have a knack for finding every stubborn knot in your neck and shoulders, which he explores leisurely under the pretext of washing your back. The press of his fingers unwinds the tension in your shoulders, loosening up muscles that have been too tense for too long.

“You are way too good at this,” you say.

“Just one of my many talents,” he says, dropping a kiss on your shoulder. “Though perhaps I ought to stop—I wouldn’t want to make you late.”

“I’m so relaxed I’m going to ignore that little bit of sass.”

He chuckles against your shoulder. “You’ll forgive me.”

“We’ll see.”

The sweet, almost chaste kisses he’s been pressing against your neck and shoulders are gradually growing slower, more insistent. When you feel the tip of his tongue draw a quick, teasing line on your neck, you know that you might be in trouble.

His hands slide to your waist, drawing you close enough that you can feel that he’s hard again. 

“I’m sensing some ulterior motives,” you say.

“A bold accusation,” he mumbles against your neck, pressing himself more firmly against you.

“We can’t have sex again,” you laugh.

“Mmm, we could,” he says in between kisses. “There’s nothing stopping us from having sex again.”

“We are already running late—”

“I thought I was very clear about my feelings on timeliness in these circumstances.” He nips at your earlobe and you shiver. “And would you really deprive me of the utter bliss of coming undone inside you?”

“It’s more like rescheduling than depriving you of anything.”

“I’ve waited so long, darling.”

“We just had sex like…less than an hour ago,” you say through a laugh.

“Ah, but the days before that were so terribly long,” he says.

You turn to face him, thinking this will make things easier for you. This turns out to be a grave miscalculation because now you have to contend with the fire in his eyes and the twin flame that it summons low in your hips.

Fuck. 

You are definitely going to have sex again.

His eyes glitter like he knows and he slowly walks you backwards until you’re pressed between him and the shower wall.

“You are absolutely incorrigible,” you say as he peppers your neck with slow, decadent kisses. “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

“Funnily enough, I don’t think you’ll be complaining about my mouth in about thirty seconds.”

And with a wicked and hungry grin, he slowly sinks to his knees.

It’s 10:48am when you finally walk into the office.

Even though you are now several hours later than you intended and the stack of files is no less imposing, you feel nothing but a pleasant glow of happiness as you take your seat. Loki sits down in the chair next to you and this time, he sneaks his foot underneath your desk and hooks his ankle under yours.

He catches your eye and smiles. “I can be a little more obvious now.”

You put on your most exaggerated expression of mock seriousness. “Only a little. This is a workplace, after all.”

He adopts a similar expression and nods. “Of course. I imagine there will be paperwork as well.”

“There actually is a form we’ll need to file with HR,” you say.

Loki frowns. “Wait, you’re not being serious about that, are you?”

“Yep. We’ll need to file it by next Friday.”

He sighs and throws his hands up in the air. “Is there anything that this place hasn’t managed to weigh down with the burden of unnecessary bureaucracy?”

“I see we’re in a good mood this morning.” Mobius has arrived, cup of coffee in hand. He nods at Loki and looks at you. “How long has he been raging against the machine?”

“Not terribly long,” you say as Loki rolls his eyes.

“It’s not raging against anything,” he says. “I just fail to see the point of some of this organization’s operational practices.”

Mobius raises an eyebrow at you. “You told him he has to fill out a form, huh?”

“Got it in one,” you say as Loki scowls.

Mobius chuckles and takes a sip of coffee. “You should hear him during performance evaluation season. I get entire monologues. It’s like Hamlet meets HR.”

Loki’s scowl deepens and you have to bite the inside of your cheek in order not to laugh.

“It looks like you made good progress, though,” says Mobius, looking at your completed stacks of files. “I took a look at what you pulled earlier this morning and there’s some good stuff.”

“Oh, good,” you say, hoping he doesn’t think much of the fact that neither one of you was in the office earlier this morning. “What time do you think you’ll need the rest done?”

“Right, about that,” says Mobius. You steel yourself for bad news. “I took a look at what you pulled so far and I think I’ve got what I need.”

You blink at him. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah, you’re off the hook,” he says. “Go enjoy the rest of your weekend.”

You look at Loki, who looks just as pleasantly surprised as you feel.

“In fact, you can take the rest of the week off,” says Mobius. “Triple overtime, right? You earned the time.” 

“This feels like a trick,” says Loki. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” says Mobius. “You did good work.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “However—”

“And there’s the catch,” says Loki.

“There’s no catch,” says Mobius. He gestures at you with his coffee cup. “I’m just going to need you both to turn in the relevant paperwork to HR by next Friday.”

Loki sighs, though you can tell he’s fighting a smile. “There’s absolutely no privacy here.”

Mobius raises his eyebrows. “You’re playing footsie under the desk. It’s not exactly rocket science.”

You look at Loki and shrug. “He’s got a point.”

“You’re taking his side?”

You roll your eyes and stand up. “Well, you can sulk about it if you’d like, but I’m going to go enjoy the rest of my weekend.” You share a sly, secret smile with Mobius. “I’ll see you next week, Mobius.”

It takes Loki approximately twenty seconds to catch up with you.

“And you say I’m incorrigible,” he says as he falls into step beside you.

You smile at him. “I think you’ll get over it.”

“I’ll consider it.” He catches your band, fingers twining with yours. “What are your plans for the rest of the week?”

“Hadn’t decided,” you say, biting back a smile. “Did you have any suggestions?”

“Well, I’d like to start by going back to bed.”

“To sleep?” you tease. 

“Eventually.” He licks his lips. “And since our respective schedules have been cleared for the week, we’ll be able to take our time.”

The hunger in his eyes is still so new and intoxicating that you can’t help the shiver that works its way up your spine.

You give him a slow smile. “Lead the way.”

[anika-ann]

A Series of (Un)Fortunate Events - S.R.

Part 1 of 2

Type: two-shot, idiots-in-love, feel-good fic

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 7,3k

Summary:  It's just a bunch of Avengers and SHIELD agents who often cooperate on missions - hanging out and getting to know each other better on a camping trip. What could possibly go wrong?

A few things. A few things could and they all seem to have you at the centre. Luckily, you have a hero in shining armour to help you in the time of need.

Warnings: allusions to NSFW, minor injuries, mention of misogyny, brief reference to PTSD, language, attempt at humour, FLUFF , Steve being a menace

A/N: written for the Essie’s Summer Lovin’ 300 Follower Celebration. Congrats @bigtreefest and thank you for hosting 💕 I have chosen multiple prompts - in this one, you shall find “why’s it…sticky?” and modified “here, you can share with me”. I hope to finish the second part in time 😁

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰 Several Agent of SHIELD characters are involved - I don't think you need any knowledge of the show to read this

The afternoon North Carolina sun warmed your skin pleasantly, even as you found yourself panting after the having climbed up the hill you. The backpack with an attached sleeping bag and a tent pack was growing heavier and heavier on your shoulders with every step, but the view and the company – most of it anyway – were certainly worth it.

Everyone seemed affected by the fresh air and exercise the Great Smokey Mountains provided, the atmosphere light and content as this was, for most, the first trip in a long time that had nothing to do with a mission.

Sure, one could argue there were some strings attached, as the ‘mission’ was to solidify relationships within the group – several Avengers and several SHIELD agents who were often outsourced for Avengers-level missions – but still: no one was shooting at you. And you wouldn’t have to write a report. That counted for something. For a lot, in fact.

Plus, the path was the goal. The destination, while set precisely according to Steve’s plan, might as well be just about anywhere.

You glanced at him as he walked by your side, smiling absently. The corners of his lips only twitched higher as he noticed you watching him, his gaze flickering to you as well.

He looked as if he was born to do this. A halo of dark blond hair around his head ruffled by the wind, sunlight painting them almost golden. The heaviest backpack of all sitting on his wide shoulders, straps around his broad chest and thin waist. Legs clad in light track pants that hugged his thighs and ass in the best way possible, a downright magnetic sight--- no.

Uh-huh, no.

No thoughts of that sort. You had forbidden yourself from that, at least for the duration of this trip, because you had known Steve would be a literal walking thirst-trap, the sheer happiness surrounding him making his glow ten times brighter. You had forbidden yourself from thinking like this, because this was not an appropriate observation to make about a colleague, a superior no less, even as everybody else probably thought along the same lines.

It didn’t matter that you wanted to throw hands at the mere idea of someone else making that observation as well. You didn’t exactly have the right to do that and it was a lost fight before it even started. Steve Rogers was simply too beautiful and essentially perfect in all his imperfections, and god knew that those imperfection had nothing to with his body. Ass included-

Gaze quickly snapping up back to his face, you found him smiling at you warmly, a soft dusting of freckles adorning his cheeks from the prolonged exposure to sun. The same phenomenon could be observed on his bare arms; a constellation of freckles, where angels had kissed their kindest, prettiest and most loyal creation; a constellation of places where you’d love to press your lips and linger, breathe in the scent of his skin and taste it.

God, he was breathtaking and all kinds of alluring. The nature around you was too, sure, the smell of pines and sandy rocks whispering of vacations and good times, but the way he-

“Whoa!” you yelped as you suddenly found yourself tumbling towards the ground, foot having slipped on a rock, you supposed.

Hands outstretched, you had no chance to break the fall, only to slow it, the burden on your back completely changing your momentum.

The second your palms as much as brushed the rocky floor, you were being held by your waist so firmly that none of your actual weight landed on the ground. You would recognize the arms holding you anywhere – just like the scent of sandal wood, musk, man and comfort, suddenly wrapping around you.

The safest place on Earth.

Steve’s arms.

Your stomach made a little flip-flop as his hands squeezed you gently and helped you up, only releasing you when his eyes found yours, silently asking if you were okay.

You responded with an embarrassed smile.

“Whoa, you okay?” Daisy rushed to your side, bless her, breaking the brief moment you had allowed yourself to bask in the sweet worry in Steve’s gaze and in the heat his body was radiating, despite the fact you could feel everyone staring at the newly nominated klutz of the group of superspies. You.

Heat of embarrassment flooded your skin under everyone’s scrutiny – and more so under the judgement in Agent Hopkinson’s glare, the jerk. Then again, you could hardly blame him for looking down on you right now.

Allegedly one of the deadliest agents known to the world; bested by a few rocks on a hiking trail and Steve Rogers’s smile.

You chuckled self-deprecatingly, quietly thanking Steve and turning to Daisy to assure her that besides your pride, nothing had been seriously wounded.

“I’m fine,” you said, scratching your forehead with a poor attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Must have missed a step, I don’t even know how…”

You did know how. You knew it precisely. You hadn’t been watching your step, too mesmerized by the beauty of your favourite Captain – and favourite person in the world. The man with the most honest, goodest, fiercest and most beautiful soul you had ever met, your closest friend.

“I do,” Agent Melinda May commented dryly, a pointed look aimed at your feet, revealing the culprit – and making you wish the Earth could swallow you, especiallysince it was her, the second in command at SHIELD – and one of the most admirable women in history of anything. And she had just seen you, an agent for both Avengers and SHIELD, a master of martial arts, to trip on nothing like a five-year-old. For the same reason too. “Your shoelaces are undone.”

“…thanks. And sorry. Go ahead. I think I can tie my shoelaces on my own,” you chuckled again, swallowing the shame even as you were among friends. Albeit some of them more reluctant than others.

“Clearly not,” Agent Hopkinson remarked, not missing the opportunity to belittle you, making you sigh as you crouched down, taking extreme care not to as much as wobble despite the heavy backpack.

Case on point, you supposed.

Having worked for SHIELD for years now, acting as the main liaison for situations where Avengers needed help, be it due to too many hostiles or the nature of the job leaning more towards spy-work that alien-invasion-work, your general experience was that tolerance and cooperation were the way. Some people were less pleasant than others, that much was true, but one should handle disagreements, various personality traits and different views on life. You certainly could; your approach to conflict, your supposedly calming presence and search for harmony in a team and the calm composure you maintained under pressure to quickly weigh your options, had even earned you your codename, Libra.

You genuinely believed tuning down an attitude for the sake of the mission was the custom, the golden rule.

And then you encountered Agent Martin Hopkinson. He was the exception. And a pain in your ass.

He got along alright with most people despite his arrogance; but you and him were a trainwreck happening in slow motion. He did not like you. Whether it was jealousy of your position, misogyny, or both, or something completely else, you wouldn’t know. But he was bitter and biting, always looking for a flaw, always making snidey comments.

You could handle that – an insult here, a mean comment there. After all, you could take a punch, a stab, a gunshot wound. You could take down men twice your size with your bare hands and just a little wit, if you tried hard enough. You had faced soldiers, rapists, murderers; Agent Hopkinson was but a small hindrance, annoyance on legs. But by god, your fists itched whenever he opened his mouth. And the feeling was mutual.

However, as a professional, you worked hard not to reciprocate his aggression, even as it only ever remained verbal; the same could not be said about him. And he didn’t care zilch about who heard him be ‘smart’ with you either, which, in turn, led to several reprimands; and on one delightful occasion, to Steve almost breaking his jaw when he heard him utter a comment about Coulson pimping out the pet agent again, clearly meaning you. The wrath Steve had showed was nothing hort of holy, and holy was the miracle that Hopkinson was still alive; the fact he barely toned down his attitude was just idiocy.

But had you mention Steve was an angel? A fiercely loyal protective friend, a gentleman, who might swear on occasion and be a little shit par excellence, but god should help anyone whose behaviour towards others offended him. He might be an angel, but was an avenging one.

A caring one too.

As soon as you stood up again, Steve was carefully cradling the backs of your hands, examining the teeny scrapes over your palms with about five droplets of blood in total, frowny gaze flickering to your knee which you hadn’t even realized you had grazed too.

“We should disinfect that.”

“Steve, I’m fine,” you laughed, even as you let him examine the barely-there bleeding, knowing there was no use trying to resist. “Thank you for caring, but it’s literally just a scratch… I’ve had worse.”

He shook his head, his expression darkening a bit. “That’s not comforting and you know it. And any wound, if infected, can be dangerous – I know I don’t have to tell you that.”

You knew instantly what instance he was referring too, a small shudder running up your spine. Yet, the rational part of you argued that there was no comparison, even if the cut on your arm over a month back had not been all that deeper and wider than this.

“That was literally a poisoned blade, Steve-“

“We were about to take one more break before reaching the destination anyway,” he interrupted you, unrelenting. “Let’s head up to that clearing and we’ll rest for a bit. I’ll take care of it, okay?”

“Steve-“

“I’ve got the first aid kit,” Bobbi uttered nonchalantly as she passed you, joining the others who had gone ahead already.

You sighed. Bobbi Morse – an agent with a clever sense of humour, sharp tongue and no-nonsense attitude, a good friend – and she was using all of her powers against you. Wicked.

“It’s just a-“

“Captain’s orders,” she almost sing-sang, earning a grin from Daisy who only shrugged, as if to confirm her words.

You sighed, rolling your eyes; acutely not aware that Steve was still holding your hands in his and your body was heating up from inside at the prolonged contact – particularly your chest and something deep within your belly.

You looked up at him, mildly annoyed and rather amused at his insistence and protectiveness. And even though you wouldn't admit that out loud, touched.

“You’re overbearing. You’re lucky I like you,” you scolded him in a whisper.

He only grinned, his worried gaze clearing and lightning up at your feigned outrage, and squeezed your hands before letting go.

“I love you too. Let’s go.”

You bit your cheek as you nodded, reminding yourself for at least the tenth time since you had set off hiking: friends. The keyword of this trip was ‘friends’.

It was just really hard to actually remember that when Steve looked at you like that, talked like that, and you could still feel the warm imprint of his hands on yours.

Steve Rogers was a man impossible not to fall for; from almost absurd handsomeness to even more absurd goodness he lived by, from his sharp wits to effective moves, from the crinkles in his eyes when he smiled to the tenderness in his touch. His sense of humour equalled to the one of duty, his drive and determination in leading interlacing with a soul of an artist and a simple man who appreciated the most ordinary things.

You had clicked instantly; your friendship bloomed almost effortlessly, working alongside him making for many opportunities to spend time together. Despite barely having met about three months ago, the times you owed him your life for were numerous; and the few times he owed you his, even as there was no such thing as keeping score, only strengthened your bond. Moments where you thought you wouldn’t make it out. Long nights at motels or in a stake-out cars, filled with mindless chatter, profound talks and comfortable silences. His goddamn smiles alone, always feeling a little warmer, fonder, when directed at you.

The fact he had quickly slipped into a habit of calling you Lee, a nickname derived from your codename with a wordless implication of you being his refuge, with that damn smile on his plush lips, was making something in your ribcage tremble with affection.

You had fallen hard. But who wouldn’t? You were only human.

And his proximity, his friendship, his affection, they were most precious to you; no matter which form they’d have, you’d take it.

Even if it meant inappropriate thoughts and your heart racing fast enough to collapse from exhaustion when he cleaned your scraped knee and palms with such care and focus one might believe they were fatal wounds.

Your heart would tremble less if he hadn’t kneeled in front of you as he did so, but you supposed Steve Rogers was just that kind of deadly. He cradled your hands in his huge ones as if they were as fragile as butterfly wings, smiling when he was done; and grinning when you said Thank you, nurse Rogers, the words carrying both humour and respect for his late mother.

His smile resembled the sun so much you almost missed how the actual sunrays grew less and less warm. It was only a few minutes later – every one of them making you aware of the either knowing or incredulous looks following yours or Steve’s every move, almost enough to make you self-conscious when snacking – when you realized you were getting cold.

The solution was easy; and despite how effective it would have been in chasing away the cold and lifting your spirits, it did not involve hugging Steve. Instead, you dived your hand down your backpack through the layer of snacks and other small necessities towards your clothes for the occasion.

And your hand reached something it most definitely shouldn’t have.

“What the-“ you murmured, still acutely aware of all the gazes on you, now joined by Steve’s. “Why is it… sticky?”

Puzzled and horrified – and suspicious, because Hopkinson might have never played a prank on you, but lines always had to be crossed for the first time someday – you threw out the things from the top, pulling out what was normally one of your favourite sweatshirts.

Fairly soaked in a rusty-red oily substance that now resided in your luggage.

Not that it hadn’t been there before – but before, it was safely stored in a Tupperware container along with the thin marinated steaks you had been tasked to carry for the team’s first dinner above fire, Hunter carrying the grate.  

“What is it?” Bobbi asked, frowning at the poor article of clothing you had intended to wear.

You didn’t have to sniff it to answer; mostly because the scent of spices was strong enough to answer for you.

“It’s the… marinade from our dinner,” you informed her with a grimace, a small whine escaping you as you went to inspect the rest of your clothes with dread and irritation rising. Because you already knew that the sweatshirt would not be the only thing having been hit. There had been enough to marinade to drown Steve and Bucky in – that was why you had triple-checked it was secured when you had pulled the straw for carrying it in your backpack. “How is that even possible?! I swear I checked it at least five times! I used rubber bands and a plastic bag and- ugh.”

“It probably gave out with all the moving around,” Natasha said, compassion evident in her voice. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you sighed.

And it was. You were only just beginning to feel the mountains part of your destination. You weren’t even shivering – and god knew you had been exposed to much worse conditions with fewer clothing. It wasn’t even raining. You had been through much worse – this was but an inconvenience.

Kinda like Hopkinson himself.

Your gaze flickered to him as he himself put on a thin hoodie, your gaze narrowing in subtle suspicion; but there was no way. He almost looked as if he was pitying you. Genuinely. Though not enough to share his clothes; not that you’d accept if he had offered. But that was beside the point. The point was he probably wasn’t to be blamed for your current misery. Not where marinating your clothes was concerned anyway.

It was probably all on you. It seemed your Tupperware skills still needed some work. Goddamnit.

“It is fine,” you spoke to yourself more than anyone else. “I’ll walk the cold off and then stay close to the fire-“

Your heart skipped a beat as you felt a presence by your side, a large navy-blue hoodie entering your sight; it was as if talking about your potential inconvenience summoned him.

An angel by your shoulder.

With a soft frown and a welcoming smile, he set the hoodie next to you as your hands still held onto your tainted clothes.

“Hey… here, you can have mine.”

You opened your mouth to protest, the words dying in your throat when you met Steve’s gaze. The golden hour had arrived, highlighting the freckles and the god-like warm glow of his smile. Your fingers reflexively twitched in the fabric of the t-shirt in your hands as the urge to run them through Steve’s hair instead hit you like a sledgehammer.

Friends, you reminded yourself again. FRIENDS.

He was offering a friendly gesture. It was no different than borrowing boxing wraps from Hunter for training if yours had torn, borrowing a dress from Natasha because none of yours fit the theme of a party, or borrowing heels from Daisy because they matched better than anything you owned. There was nothing special about this and no one would think twice.

Yet, it was a gesture you had to turn down, no matter how gentlemanly it was – no matter how at home you knew you’d feel in that hoodie. The idea alone was tickling along the most sensitive parts of your body and for that alone you should refuse.

“Thank you, Steve… but that wouldn’t be fair,” you said. “You shouldn’t be cold because of me.”

Plus, I know this one is your favourite, you wanted to say, but bit your tongue, aware that the scene was already out-of-chart intimate as it was. It certainly felt like it.

“I won’t. You know I run pretty hot…”

You are hot, you wanted to say – but a little choked noise from Hopkinson and Bucky had you quickly set your mind straight.

Until Steve pulled out the big guns – rather literally. Long fingers wrapped around your bare forearm, goosebumps erupting on your skin despite the nearly burning sensation, breath catching. It did not help the situation that something you didn’t dare to identify for the sake of your sanity flashed in Steve’s eyes when he touched you.

Friends. Friends, friends, FRIENDS-

“See. All warm. And it will stay that way even without a hoodie. Take it. Please,” he added. And soon, a content smile appeared on his face, because he recognized the signs of you yielding.

A girl had to pick her battles. Arguing with Steve was not one of those which you had no chance at winning – it would be like trying to move a ton-worth block of concrete with bare hands. You had enough experience with that – fighting with Steve on the matter of your comfort, not moving concrete – and there was no winning. He respected your choices, yes, but he’d fastened straps of a parachute on you himself if it came to it, even if it meant he wouldn’t have one himself; he was a sweet hypocrite like that.

“Fine,” you sighed, smiling just a bit. “If you insist… thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

You would swear you heard at least three people mutter under their breath: I bet.

Thoroughly warm and comfortable despite the numerous miles in your feet and tens of pounds on your back, you trailed behind Hunter and Bobbi, who were fighting animatedly – and most lovingly – about which European brand beer was the finest. For a couple who had been married and divorced, once talking about each other in not so nice terms including Bobbi being called ‘a demonic hell-beast’, they sure appeared very much in love – but every bit professional when it counted. They were lucky to find each other again, that was for sure. It made one long for a love like that; explosive as they were, you wouldn’t shy away from calling them soulmates. They belonged with each other; they were lucky to have find one another.

As you tugged at the sleeves of the hoodie you were wearing, long to easily hide your palms, you wondered if you were being lucky or cursed on this trip so far. Tripping. Spilling sauce onto your clothes. Withstanding Hopkinson’s moody glares of which exactly one resembled a shred of compassion and only lasted until you put on the hoodie of the Captain America himself. And yet, surrounded by colleagues, friends and Steve, on a trip with a sun that had slowly begun its descent at your back, you had to count your blessings.

Lucky. You were luckier than most.

Daisy had joined you for a bit, walking side by side with you when the path allowed it, meaningless chatter altering with meaningful; a natural course of conversation between close friends who were together for a few hours with nothing else to do but take it step by step, literally, admire the nature and talk.

Steve had promised it would only take less than an hour and you’d make it to where you were supposed to set camp. He had fallen behind, walking with Natasha and Bucky, who, judging by his tone and Steve’s groans, roasted the team captain about something with Natasha’s occasional but effective help.

Now, about what you assumed was twenty to thirty minutes later, the last challenge of today’s journey awaited you; fording a river.

A rather cold river.

The weather was nice, sure, and you were having a good time; but the idea of warding through water reaching your thighs was not all that alluring.

But of course, Steve Rogers was the man with a plan.

Walking down the river and finding a relatively shallow section of the river with several large rocks, all you had to do was to step from one slightly slippery stone to another without face-planting or letting your heavy backpacks break your balance. Easy – or it should be for a group of athletic agents.

Yet, Bucky and Steve were discarding their shoes in a blink, rolling up their pant legs, ready to dip in and get wet so other wouldn’t.

Your heart skipped a startled beat, a lump growing in your throat, as you watched Steve regard his friend, already knee-deep in water, with the tinniest bit of hesitance.    

Cold water. Cold water.

In the early June, the water couldn’t be colder than fifty, fifty-five degrees; but if the supersoldiers planned to stand there until all of you crossed the not-so-unsignificant distance while they’d assist, they would certainly feel it. And while history taught you both Steve and Bucky could clearly take the cold better than anyone, the idea of being the person knee-deep in the water was anything but pleasant.

Especially to someone who had already laid his life by diving a plane into icy waters of the North Atlantic.

Without a second thought, you left the line forming at the best crossing point, walking down the bank to crouch at Steve’s side.

He noticed your presence in an instant, snapping his head to you, an all-easy smile forming on his lips. As if you couldn’t see the brief flash of anxiety before he hid it. As if you couldn’t see his carotid pulsing wildly. As if he, the supposedly fearless man to all, could hide the one flicker of apprehension he allowed himself to feel from you.

“Are you sure about this, Steve?” you asked, voice as low as possible as not to attract attention.

As you met his gaze, understanding flashed in his eye. A silent conversation; he knew why you came to him, where your concern came from.

And in a very Steve Rogers fashion, he ignored it. He just gulped and squared his shoulders and rose to his feet, suddenly towering over you again.

“Of course I am.” Of course he was. “It will be much easier than all of us fording through.”

You sighed, looking at him pointedly as you swallowed your irritation – and worry. That was not what you were questioning and he knew it. And you weren’t questioning his dedication or his ability to help either; just the decision to put himself through discomfort anyone else could have taken upon themselves, when it meant more hardship for him than others.

“I know. It just… it can be literally anyone else-- hell, I can do it.”

You could. You’d warm up after soon enough, judging by the terrain awaiting you. It was a better option that him going in there to freeze his toes off at and bring him back to--

To prove your point, you reached for the backpack buckles on your belly to take it off.

Steve’s hand was on your forearm stopping you before you could undo a single one, squeezing.

As your head snapped back to his face, there was a little crack through the mask he had put on, showing just the slightest hint of anxiety now. But there was a fresh wave of warmth in his expression too; gratitude lit up the blue of his irises the way the sun lit up the summer skies, dreamy and sweet.

His thumb pressed into your forearm gently, stroking, reassuring. You felt the tension melt from your shoulders faster than a butter on the stove, something stirring deep inside your bones as you took a shaky inhale.

“Thank you, Lee, but I’ll be fine,” he said, one of his eyebrows arching, a little quirk to his lips. “And we don’t want to undo the work the hoodie has done on you.”

Right. The hoodie. His hoodie.  Yes, you were very much aware you were still wearing it, while he remained in a t-shirt that was at least one size too small for him and did all things delightful for his already insanely impressive physique.

Not the point.

You opened you mouth to argue, only to be interrupted by a shout from behind you.

“Oi, punk! You gonna help or just stand there enjoying the view?”

As you both turned to Bucky, you could see him helping Agent May cross the river, already halfway through.

Steve let go of your forearm, smiling at you once more.

“At least take the hoodie,” you insisted. He shook his head, your mouth opening on empty, deeming your effort fruitless.

“I have a jacket if I want… don’t need the hoodie,” he assured you, his grin earning a glint of danger that made your stomach flip-flop funnily, the heat in your abdomen burning hotter. “Plus, it looks much better on you.”

With that, he set off, jogging towards the water, and leaving you stand there with cheeks exploding with heat.

Damn you, Steven Grant.

Shaking your head, you returned to the line, anxiously watching Steve climb down into water, a shudder running down his spine.

“Come on. I saved you a spot,” Daisy said, gesturing for you to stand in front of her, earning an eyeroll from Hopkinson who stood behind her. “Everything okay with you and Steve?”

The phrasing had your head snap up with a startle, heart speeding up.

“What?”

What did she mean by that?! You and Steve?

No. There was you. There was Steve. Two separate entities. Friends.

Checking up on each other. Wearing each other’s clothes. Typical friends.

You relaxed when all you found in Daisy’s gaze was genuine care and curiosity, no trace of implying anything. Right.

You smiled back. “Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

Hunter and Bobbi followed after May; then it was your turn. The sight of the river, while beautiful, got a little less pleasant as you stepped on the first stone, testing just how slippery the surface was. It wasn’t awful – you could handle that, even as you felt the extra load on your back disturbing your balance.

But hey – the worst that could happen was you taking a cold bath. Just another inconvenience, right?

Yet, you didn’t have to worry. You didn’t even make it to the second large stone when a familiar pair of warm hands wrapped around yours, offering a gentle but firm support.

You met Steve’s reassuring gaze, a message without words: I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.

You send one back, squeezing his hands: I know. You makeme feel safe. You okay?

A tiny nod on his part and then you were on your way, careful taking step after step, always testing the surface first, making sure your every move was secure before shifting your weight. From one to another, you made it halfway to the deepest part of the crossing without any issue, actually enjoying the little adventure – which had obviously nothing to do with Steve’s touch, because you were not at all disappointed to see Bucky heading back from the other side of the river where he had left Bobbi to take you off of Steve’s hands. Not at all.

You were just stepping on the next stone when you felt a sudden drop in weight on your shoulders and back, an embarrassing yelp erupting from your throat as you scrambled for balance.

A fleeing thought of this trip being cursed for you indeed flashed through your mind as you braced yourself for the impact into cold water despite still trying not to have it come to that.

And it didn’t.

A splash sounded next to you, a few drops cooling your ankle, but that was it; you stood tall and firm on the irregularly-shaped stone, a hot vice of a grip on your hips, your hands having found purchase on just as hot and solid surface nearby.

Steve’s hands securely holding your hips.

Your hands on his shoulders.

Attentive blue eyes looking up at yours to assure both you and himself that you were okay.

Your face heated up, but the rest of your body was set on fire; indecent images of a wholly different situation with Steve’s hands having a steel-like grip on your hips and his eyes boring into yours flooded your mind, a wildfire of visceral need spreading through every single cell of your body and lightning it up. Steve was all about touch. Steve was all about eye-contact. You knew with absolute certainty that he’d never once let his gaze wander from your face when he’d sheathed himself inside you, feasting his eyes, because he lived for capturing images of beauty and he was a giver, the pleasure of people he loved being his own--- and you wouldn’t dare to look away. Your eyes might flutter shut at the sensation of utter-

Forcing yourself to snap back into present – into reality –, looking everywhere but at Steve as your whole body burned, a floating object caught your eye behind Steve’s back. A dark prolonged object, neatly packed, carried away by the stream.

Your tent. The thing that had fallen into water and nearly knocked you off balance was your tent, slowly sinking lower and lower as it slowed down its path down the river.

Great. Really great.

You were fucked.

How did it even-

“I got it!” Bucky hollered, changing course, heading to retrieve what was supposed to be the roof over your head for the next three days.

He’d get it; you weren’t worried. It was fine.

And the tent would be fine too. It was in the waterproof case. It would--- it would be absolutely soaked, because it was sinking. The entirety of the tent had gone under water, including the protective layer that was meant to save you from rain should it come to it.

There was no cloud on the sky but you had a feeling there’d be water dripping on you all night anyway.

How could it have fallen off? You had secured it with the buckled straps to the bottom of your fairly new backpack, checking repeatedly – every time before you put the backpack on again – that it held.

Then again, maybe you hadn’t done that after the fiasco – and the lovely result of it – with your marinated clothes. So you might be cursed, but by your own fault, really-

A squeeze to your hips brought your attention back to Steve, making you realize you were still standing in the middle of the river, stalling.

“I’m sorry, moving on, moving on,” you babbled, only to have him still your movements, eyes scrutinizing your face.

“You okay?”

Funny you should ask.

“Are you?”

You reciprocated the scrutiny; eyes roaming his handsome features, you searched for any signs of discomfort – not from having to hold you, but from still soaking his legs in the cold water. All you found was a reassuring smile; and yet, you couldn’t but brush your thumb inconspicuously over Steve’s shoulder in an attempt at comfort, incidentally along the hem of his t-shirt. An emotion flashed in his irises, eyes darkening a fraction, the grip on your flesh turning almost bruising before he began to release it, taking one of your hands again and then the other. You licked your lips – and you’d swear Steve’s gaze flickered to your mouth at that – standing up straighter.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Bucky dropping your tent on the bank of the river.

“Thank you, Bucky!”

“No problem, dollface. Get moving though, my old knees aren’t built for this cold anymore,” he said, causing you to glare at Steve accusingly.

He had lied.

Of course he had fucking lied.

And he had the audacity to grin when you looked at him with accusatory and genuinely worried eyes.

“Let’s get you to the other side, shall we?”

“I packed your favourite snack, but I just decided I’m gonna eat it alone,” you threatened your vengeance for him for not being honest.

Steve feigned hurt so well you might as well believe it; but the hold on your hands remained gentle and secure as he helped you continue the path. “That’s cold, Lee.”

The corners of your lips quirked up.

“I know it’s cold. Now was it so hard to admit it?” you questioned as you beckoned to the water – causing Bucky to chuckle and Steve to deadpan when he instantly realized your trickery.

“You should be around more often, dollface,” Bucky said, approaching you and taking up on Steve’s task.

Steve just grunted and made his way to help Daisy. You felt your face heat up further at Bucky’s remark, grateful no one else could hear the exchange.

…were you though?

“I’ll take your words for it… and Steve?” He glanced at you over his shoulder, clearly not really offended. “Thank you for catching me.”

His smile, no matter how small, said it all and felt like the softest blanket to wrap around you on a cold winter morning; I’ll always catch you.

Always.

Just as you had expected, once you all made it through the river, you reached the camp spot in no time; and just as you had expected, your tent was a lost cause. You could build it, hoping it would dry out overnight at least bit, but actually sleeping in it was out of question unless you wanted to wake up soaked up and sneezing.

In a brief moment of self-pity you granted yourself, you planted your butt on the ground, laying the drenched parts of your tent next to you, taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it as you stared at the traitorous pieces of equipment, including the buckles that had been meant to hold the package to the backpack but had given out.  

While everyone busied themselves with unpacking their temporary shelters as well – Natasha with Bucky, Bobbi with Hunter, May, Daisy and Hopkinson each on their own in the lightest and therefore smallest tents possible, Bobbi took note of your state, smiling compassionately.

“Are you okay? The water really did a number on that thing, huh?”

You reciprocated her smile wryly, no less grateful for her care.

“Yeah… But you know what? I win. Sleeping outside? I can stargaze. I’ll be fine,” you said, shrugging and rising to your feet to get to work. You could build the tent to have it dry out at least and wash your clothes in the lake you had settled at. “I’m just… gonna sleep by the fire under the open skies, in… borrowed, non-marinated clothes and with no sleeping bag, because with my luck, it’s probably full of bugs or itching powder or something. It’s fine. God knows I slept in conditions a lot worse than that.”

And wasn’t that the truth. You had slept in much better conditions too, but that was beside the point. You tried to summon the memories of horrible nights spent in damp clothes, freezing, teeth clattering so hard the sound made it impossible to fall asleep; unbearable heat, loud noises, even just annoying persistent chatter. Sleeping under the open skies was practically a blessing in comparison. A dream.

And you did not want to remember nights that had been very different, because that would only make you miserable at your predicament.

“Yeah, not on my watch,” Steve called out lowly, placing another hook in the ground, using his foot to step on it and dig it deeper. “Not when the solution is obvious.”

Your heart skipping a beat at the obvious solution, you barely had time to breathe in to respond when someone else did – in an extremely irritated manner.

“Seriously?! What, you gonna lend her your tent too?” Hopkinson spat, rising from where he had been crouching by his tent. “Maybe even keep her warm through the-“

Steve lunged his direction so fast you didn’t even have time to be offended by the implication.

But Bucky, the supersoldier he was, was much faster; his metal arm stopped Steve in his tracks, palm pressing against Steve’s chest before he could make the almost-breaking-Hopkinson’s-arm a pleasant memory for the man.

Still, Hopkinson had enough wit to shut up and step back hastily, raising his hands defensively. His face turned white as a sheet of paper; good. He had some brain left then, it seemed. How he had survived for so long you had no idea.

Gulping – and shamelessly satisfied at the fear in Hopkinson’s eyes, because Jesus he did not just say that, even as you had thought about exactly the same – you turned your gaze back to Steve and Bucky.

And something in your core exploded hot, a tug so violent and visceral it was almost painful.

If Steve had looked at Hopkinson like he could break his arm all those weeks back when he had made his stupid comment, now he looked like he could break every single bone in his body, snap the guy in half and enjoy it. And he’d enjoy doing it for you. To defend you.

Steve’s smile was always a beautiful sight and so was the softness he could look at you with at times; but the rage in his face now, the fire in his eyes, on your behalf, were nothing short of breathtaking.

Avenging angel indeed.

He might not be carrying a flaming sword, nor had his shield on his arm, but that made him no less menacing, no less divine; and no less beautiful.

“Do we have a problem, Agent Hopkinson?” Bucky asked calmly, despite the clear effort with which he was holding Steve back still, even as Steve visibly didn’t move a muscle.

You were barely moving at all too; your chest was heaving, the rest of your body strung tight with effort not to let show just how affected you were by Steve’s near literal white-knighting.  

“No, sir,” Hopkinson saluted, nodding stiffly, before he scrambled to finish building his tent.

“Good.”

Few seconds of deafening silence was only interrupted by the scrape of shoes against ground as the camp slowly came back to life again. Bucky shot Steve a look before he let his metal arm down, watching Steve avert his still flaming gaze from Hopkinson with shoulders remaining squared; and so alluringly wide you just wanted to run your hands over them, just as breathless at the sensation as you were now-

“I mean, makes sense you’d share,” Daisy broke the silence, everyone visibly relaxing. “It looks like your tent is pretty big, eh?”

Your eyes went wide.

Loud cough erupted from Hunter’s direction as he spitted the water he had been drinking; Bobbi patted his shoulders, amusement clear on her face. Bucky’s face twisted in a questionable grimace; Natasha pursed her lips, seemingly one second from making a comment. May bit back a smirk; Hopkinson was only showing his back, but he clearly froze in his movements.

Steve just looked shocked – shocked enough to snap from the anger that had overtook him on your behalf.

You would think it would take Daisy a few seconds to realize how she had worded her statement, accidentally referring to a figurative ‘tent’ men grew in certain situations – but judging by her seemingly innocent smile and the sparkle in her eye, she knew exactly what she had implied. And she had done so on purpose and with delight.

She was right, however. Steve’s temporary dwelling was probably the biggest one at your site and it even included a vestibule, where all the equipment which was meant for everyone was to be stored. His tent had the most space for the reason he could put his backpack to the vestibule alone.

Steve cleared his throat, taking a few steps to you, a relaxed smile having found way back to his face.

“…are you comfortable with sharing a tent with me?”

You reciprocated his smile, shrugging, even as you had to work hard to swallow your amusement at Daisy’s comment. One that was very much on point.

Yes. You were very comfortable sharing a tent with him indeed. More than, actually, but not everyone needed to know that; and you could feel several knowing gazes on you as you answered as levelled as possibly.

“I mean… we have shared a room before for a mission. I’m fine… are you? Comfortable with that, that is?” you asked, perfectly polite, considerate and friendly, even as your heart was racing in your ribcage.

There was no reason for the racing heart though. Because this was okay for friends to do. Absolutely. If you having shared the room sometimes included sharing a bed, which had naturally resulted in cuddling, body heat searching body heat, no one needed to know – especially not Agent Asshole Hopkinson. What happened in a motel room stayed in a motel room. Always.

A cute crinkle appeared in Steve’s eye as he gave the answer you already knew.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t. Of course, it’s fine.”

More than, whispered his gaze, so you averted it and busied yourself with gathering the wet parts of your tent, clearing your throat.

“Good… that’s good. Thanks. I really appreciate it, Steve.”

“Any time, Lee.”

You could feel his gaze on you, the warmth of his smile like a soft blanket on your back. It was going to be a long, long night.

Part 2

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

I hope you enjoyed reading 🤭 if you did, please consider leaving feedback and reblogging💕

I hope July has been kind to you!

[nnight-dances]

ONE KISS, ONE LOVE

PAIRING: park wonbin x fem!reader

GENRE: fluff, hurt/comfort, suggestive dialogue but nothing explicit

TROPES: established relationship!au, idol!wonbin, age gap vibes but no real mention, reader babies wonbin like he deserves to be, texts at the end, just sickening sweet stuff

WATCH: wonbin's night routine

NOTE: inspired by the video above! once again, these wonbin fics write themselves ... he might be my favorite boy to write rn or maybe that's just my way of coping!! anyway don't be surprised if i just start spamming u with the wonbin fics i just have too many good ideas. but they're all gonna be set in this same established relationship style, he's just so bf coded lol... anyway, enjoy <3

you've been in bed for a good twenty, clad in cream pyjamas and skincare intact, when you hear the frontdoor open – signalling your boyfriend, wonbin's arrival. you pause the video you're watching on your phone and sit up to greet him, "bin? welcome home." his heavy footsteps stop where his figure finally comes into your view.

wonbin looks wiped out, no doubt, eyes shadowed by his somnolent lashes. he stares at you for a moment before humming, the sound halfway between a thank god you're here and i could die right now. he peels his layers off with speed, black leather jacket hung up on the tree-shaped rack near your closet and his other outerwear finding its place on the small cabinet next to it.

you watch fondly as even in his fatigue, he patiently makes sure no outside clothes pollute the bed. as soon as he's in nothing but his white tee and boxers though, he jumps onto you, deflating the air out of you like a body pillow.

"hello," he mumbles, face disappearing into your chest where he snuggles closer. 

"hi, love," you welcome him warmly, fingers carding through his hair as a force of habit. you breathe against his limp body, letting him unwind on top of you as he often does. it's a silent activity, a night routine of sorts for wonbin on his longest days. he'd trudge home and settle close to you, wordlessly like a cat looking for soothing. 

sometimes, you talked to him about your day and he'd hum along, eyes on yours telling all you needed to hear. other times, you would go back to doing whatever you were doing – watching a show, playing a game, or talking to a friend – while he recharged. he even insisted it worked best when you were just doing your own thing.

today, you do neither. setting your phone aside, you occupy yourself with wonbin himself, first meandering through his charcoal hair and then trailing down to his neck, tracing hearts and stars into his skin. you can feel him relaxing under your touch, his face finally coming back into your vision. 

"tired," wonbin says, voice coarser than ever. "need to sleep." 

"i know, baby," you croon, "wanna wash up first?"

he shakes his head adamantly, "no. sleepy."

you laugh softly, "angel, i'm sure you are but you can't sleep with your makeup on, can you?"

"had a few drinks with taro hyung," he murmurs as if that explains his behavior.

"really? you had time after practice?"

"he snuck it into practice. beer after all that sweating was nice."

"wow, look at you," you muse, hand brushing his bangs out of his eyes, "you sound like an old man."

"i am," wonbin pouts, "let the old man go to sleep."

"sorry, love, i can't do that," you say.

"rude."

"say what you will," you sit up fully, pulling your sluggish boyfriend with you. ignoring his groans, you kiss his nose, "wash up, okay? can't have my rockstar breaking out because he was too lazy to wash his face before bed."

he groans again but this time it's an endearment, his kiss on your cheek disguising his smile. "but i can't move, y/n. please."

"i'll help you," you snake out of the sheets, squatting as you heave wonbin out as well. he stands up unwillingly, head wilting like a sad flower. you laugh, pulling him toward the washroom, "will you listen if i do all the work?"

that gets the job done alright because two minutes later, wonbin's settled against the sink with you between his legs. you crane around his tall limbs to reach for his products, having memorized his night skincare by now. 

cleansing balm in hand, you carefully cover every inch of his face, the makeup turning into oil gradually. "okay, babe, now rinse your face for me."

"you said you'd do all the work!" he complains without missing a beat. 

you glare at him, "i can't possibly wash your face without making a mess of both of us."

"sounds like an excuse to me."

sulking, he turns around, washing the balm off. next, you go in with his foam cleanser, gently circling his cheeks and forehead. despite all his earlier declarations, he watches you attentively, his hand loosely clasped around your waist to keep you in place. you have to scold him midway at one point when he gets cheeky and sneaks a hand down your pyjamas, feeling the hem of your panties. 

eventually, you dry his face off with a hand towel. "there," you peck his cheek, "all clean."

when he doesn't let go of your waist, you raise a brow at him. "you only love me when i'm clean," he scowls, "don't you?"

you narrow your eyes at his tantrum, "i think you're forgetting how i'm sacrificing my screen time before bed to clean you up right now."

he looks unconvinced as he tails you out of the bathroom. he's about to throw himself back onto the bed when you stop him by his hand. "change first," you explain, pulling out fresh pyjamas and throwing them at him. 

wonbin stands idly and it's only when he starts raising his arms up that you realize he wants you to do it. you sigh, "bin, you're such a baby today." but you smile as you pull his shirt off, disregarding the way he instantly flexes when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. slipping his pyjamas on, a piece at a time, you clap when he's done.

"i would make a great mother," you pat yourself on the back.

"you can adopt me if you want," he shrugs and you snicker, "i don't think i need to." 

"you want anything to eat before you sleep?" you ask as if you hadn't quite literally brushed his teeth. "chocolate," he says without any conviction and you roll your eyes at him, watching as he launches himself at the bed.

"quick, come here," wonbin whines. you pad over to your side of the bed and join him, giggling when his body curls around you instantly. his nose finds its indent against your neck this time, cold and fresh. 

for a minute, you think that's all you'll hear out of your boyfriend for the night. but it's just as you're about to reach for your phone when he speaks up again, "sorry if i'm boring."

you're not sure if your ears hear right, "what?"

but his voice is solemn, "...i'm probably kinda boring lately. so i'm sorry."

you turn on your side to face him completely, hand coming to rest against his cheek. "bin, you idiot. you coming home is the best part of my day."

"really? even though i'm too dead to do anything?" he perks up but his eyes gloomy, "we don't even fuck anymore. or go to the movies. or go out at all."

you laugh, "you're making us sound like an old couple on the verge of divorce, baby. you're just busier because of your comeback! i'm so excited and you should be, too."

"i am. but i don't want bore you."

"you don't, though. i'm lucky enough i get to see you at night and take care of you when i can. plus, it's not like you won't have more time after your promotions, right? we can do everything you want then."

wonbin blinks at you, his cool hand finally coming to meet yours where it was still caressing his cheek. he kisses your palm, "thank you. i'm glad."

"of course, love. now, go to sleep or you'll regret it tomorrow," you chirp, rolling over and shutting the lights off quickly.

"...you really would be a great mom," wonbin laughs at your behavior. 

"good night, wonbin."

"good night, mom."

you hit his arm at his brazenness but when he just laughs again, the sound is too sweet for you to even pretend to be mad. so instead, you hug him closer, hand on his bicep and his legs tangled with yours. 

–

bin: I AM FREE AT LAST

bin: FROM THE SHACKLES OF IT

you: …

you: how would ur fans react if i leaked our texts

you: so much for being mysterious

you: "shackles of it" boy have you ever touched a book

bin: okay so you're rude today

bin: i miss y/n mom version

you: ew?? if u have a kink i dont think this is gonna work

bin: because…? 

you: is sungchan still single

bin: i was kidding! haha!

you: ok.

bin: seriously tho let's do smth fun 2nite

you: i get off work late today :(

bin: whatttt you have a life outside of me :0

you: do you WANT me to break up with you???

bin: what i meant was i will be there to pick you up <3

you: wtv man idgaf anymore

bin: noooo

bin: i'll do anything you want don't be mad

you: anything?

bin: well other than leaking our texts ofc

you: i want to live together

bin: ???

bin: we alr do

you: wonbin 

you: baby

you: you just always come over to my place

bin: i sleep there it's my home wdym

you: and you still pay the bills for your place?

bin: i don't make that bag for nothing

you: ok so what if we lived together instead

bin: but i really like your place!!

you: i do too

you: let's make it our place 

bin: shit

bin: i just actually blushed irl

you: :) 

you: is that a yes

bin: i want to marry you

you: okay well let's calm down

bin: did u just reject me

you: i'm telling u that you're gonna regret proposing through text

bin: i love u and i want u to be my wife

bin: omg i just shed a tear at the thought of calling u that

bin: wife…. im changing ur contact name

bin: or should i change it to fiancée? since we havent yet tied the knot

you: park wonbin

you: we are 20 years old

bin: untrue

bin: im 22 

you: i am not marrying you right now

bin: … is there someone else

you: i'm not marrying anyone right now

bin: ok so i'm not husband material

you: you are

bin: i'm not father material? you: no comment

you: but we aren't ready babe

you: let's take it slow k?

you: just move in first

you: we have so many memories to make

bin: you're such a flirt

you: ??? u just asked me to marry you but sure

bin: i'll be moved in by the time you come back home

you: i thought you were picking me up

bin: that was before u asked me to move in

bin: now i have to bring all my stuff over

bin: which side of your closet can i use? bin: also thoughts on letting me keep my rock collection next to your figurines?

you: right side and no

bin: wow u didnt even think about it

you: imagine we get into a fight

bin: i refuse to

you: i'm just saying i would be tempted to throw them rocks at u

bin: you would do that????

you: depending on what u do

bin: why are you expecting me to do anything at all????

you: …experience

bin: wow

you: to be loved is to be known

bin: you can't flatter me now

you: i love you 

bin: …

bin: i love you too

[prentissluvr]

warm brown jacket — sam winchester

for : 200+ followers event [ open ] ➖⟢ pairing : sam winchester x gn!reader ➖⟢ genre : major fluff, friends to lovers ➖⟢ cw : mentions of canon typical gore, violence, and bloodiness at the very beginning, mentions of being casually shirtless around each other kind of?, dean teasing a little, barely edited ➖⟢ wc : 1.3K prompt : sharing clothes in a totally (not) friendly way

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

you’re used to the grime and gore of the job; you don’t really have much of a choice. but the whole front and back of your shirt and jacket are so unpleasantly sticky from a horrid concoction of blood, mud, and maybe more, that your fingers itch to peel the layers from your body as you head for the car. of course, you’re just going to tough it out until you can shower and change at the motel. you know that sam and dean will let you take the first shower tonight; they’re not the ones who beheaded a vampire then got shoved into a mud puddle by a second right along with the decapitated body gushing blood from it’s stump of a neck. it sucked, to say the least.

you can’t resist pulling your jacket off, and you’re lucky that it gets rid of most of the mud. but it’s the front of your shirt that took the brunt of the blood, and it’s sticking to your skin, warm and just about dreadful. there’s a rustle beside you coming from sam, and you don’t have to look over to know the sounds of him taking off that big brown carhartt jacket. your favorite.

it’s only when he nudges you, holding the fabric out for you to take do you look at him. he’s got that pretty, borderline awkward smile when he’s trying to be subtly sweet. he doesn’t want to make you feel self-conscious about the mess on your clothes, but your fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt and the grimace on your face that’s so subtle just about no one else but him could spot it, and he knows instantly that the stickiness of your clothes is bothering you.

you smile at him, not too wide so you don’t accidentally show him that he makes you feel in love, and accept the jacket with one hand. you’re trying to maneuver your own mess of a jacket away, but sam takes it from you with a soft, “here, i got it,” as you near the car.

“thank you, sam,” you say, pausing at the door so you can shrug the much cleaner layer on without being confined to the small car.

“course,” he replies, all casual and kind as if he isn’t dying to see you put the jacket on. then he remembers his manners. “dean and i’ll look away if you wanna,” he forgets how to be smooth for a moment, clearing his throat as he gestures vaguely to your bloody shirt, “you know, get rid of the shirt too. ‘m sure the blood’s worse than the mud.”

“right, of course. don’t wanna get the inside of your jacket covered in the blood anyways,” you agree, glad sam said something about that because you weren’t quite sure what to do. you certainly didn’t want to keep the shirt on, and you’ve been shirtless around the boys plenty before because of the way you live out of motel rooms, but with sam so close like this, waiting for you to put on his jacket, you feel the tips of your ears go flaming hot at the idea of taking your shirt off without some sort of awkward warning. this way, sam’s being an utter gentleman and taking the shot for you when it comes to who’s the most awkward this time around.

sam gives you his silly, pursed-lip smile and his dimples pop out and all you want is to kiss them til they never go away. he slides into the car, and as the door shuts closed, you turn your back to the impala, tuck the jacket between your knees, and shimmy the mess of a shirt off your body. a chill of air hits your sort of blood-wet skin, making you shiver before you can drop the ruined shirt and pull the warm layer over yourself. but the second the soft fabric is over your shoulders, then around your arms and torso, it’s sweet heaven. sam’s body heat lingers, warming you in an instant and pushing a sigh of relief from your parted lips.

the time-worn softness of the fabric is glorious after such uncomfortable textures, and though the metal of the zipper is a little chilly against your stomach as you close the jacket around you, you couldn’t care less about that. 

a moment later, you’re settled into the back seat, trying not to look at sam to see if he’s taking in how you look in his favorite jacket. instead, you catch dean’s eye through the rearview mirror and he sends you a teasing wink that has you stuck between rolling your eyes at him and flat out planting your face into your hands to hide.

the ride is quiet save the few minutes in a fast food drive-through. dean grumbles about the restaurant’s lack of pie as he drives off in the direction of the motel.

standing in the motel room, you hate to take off the jacket, but it’s a must if you want to shower and get the rest of the day's grime off of you and down the drain. sam’s already assured you that you don’t need to wash it for him, so you leave it on the foot of your shared bed before you head to the shower. you know that he likes to pack up any piece of clothing he isn’t using right away.

you try to keep your shower short for the sake of your companions, though it's difficult when the hot water feels so comforting and cleansing. even so, being back in your own clean clothes afterwards is certainly nice as you leave the bathroom after brushing your teeth and running through your short post-shower routine.

sam’s sitting at the table across the room and dean stands from his bed, ready to shower next. you’re expecting to mourn the loss of the jacket on your bed, but your eyes immediately fall on the nicely folded bundle of brown fabric placed neatly by your pillow. unable to resist, you walk to it and pick it up, placing it on your lap as you sit on the edge of the bed. you try to catch sam’s eye to silently ask what he means by leaving it there, but it almost feels as if he’s avoiding your gaze in favor of staring at the book in front of him.

since you can’t get sam’s attention, you turn to dean before he can go, but all you get is a sly smile before he disappears into the bathroom. 

it has got to be your raging crush on pretty boy over there, sitting so close and far all at once, that’s making you jump to silly conclusions. but the barely visible blush on his cheeks, his refusal to look up when he heard you pick up the jacket, and dean’s knowing look makes it feel like sam wants you to put that jacket back on. and you do too.

so, you stand and turn as if you’re not looking at sam anymore, but you’re careful to keep him visible out of the corner of your eye as you unfold the fabric and put it back on. the ac is too strong; it’s cold, you tell yourself that’s enough of an excuse.

if you could tuck sam’s pretty brown hair behind his ears like you so often get the urge to, you bet the tips would be pink. even with his face half blurry in your peripheral, you can see the look he's giving you, because he is looking now. it’s an expression you don’t see on him often at all; he’s the kind of guy to always school his features away from betraying what he thinks and wants. this time, it’s loud and clear and you can feel it as much as see it. you, wrapped up safe and warm in his jacket, are exactly what he wants. 

you think you’re gonna kiss him, and he’s gonna kiss you back with his hands clutching at that soft brown fabric to be sure it’s all real and glorious like he thinks it is.

[uh-oh-its-bird]

There are so many naruto time travel fics out there but what I need SPECIFICALLY is an ANBU era team of Kakashi, Tenzo, Itachi, and Shisui getting flung into the founders era.

Like. Ok just looking from the political side of it that's;

A) 2 very young and VERY powerful Uchiha's (one of which is the future clan head!! Politics!!)

B) A very fucked up baby mokuton user who's still in the middle of being deprogrammed and can totally pass for Senju

C) The free wild card that is Hatake clan lore on top of having a stolen sharingan. On top of *that* him being the team leader of a team of kids who, in the time period context, should both be at eachothers throats and probably not be expected to obey the commands of someone not only from another clan but a way smaller one

Theres SO much potential there!! So many political implications in virtually ALL of the directions!!!!

Yk what as I'm typing this out I'm having ✨️ideas✨️ so let's make some story points to sort those out:

• I think itd be neat to have this happen like. A year? Ish? Before the massacre? So age wise, and full disclaimer I'm referencing Google and Wikipedia rn so I could totally be wrong, I think that's :

Kakashi (18)

Tenzo (17)

Itachi (12)

Shisui (15)

Could be wrong about the ages but honestly it's my world you're just living in it, so.

Then me going totally purely off of my own headcannons, were going to say they came in a about a year before Izuna died and place the founders ages as:

Madara (23)

Hashirama (23)

Izuna (19)

Tobirama (18)

Big fan of Tobirama being the youngest between the 4 but projecting the aura of someone as old as like. Idk, however old Madara is. Very funny to me, 10/10

• I'm personally a big fan of dogteeth kakashi so we're running with that all the way home. Also a huge fan of the "Hatake's are a distant, more feral cousin of Inuzuka clan" hc along with some sprinklings of "back in the day they had a bit of a Reputation(tm) for being a 'lill wild, and everyone generally tries to avoid them. Which isn't too much of a problem because theyre a very small out of the way clan from Iron, they just have a big reputation in contrast to their size.

In more modern times tho, along with (obviously) having dwindled down to a single depressed teenager, they've become a lot tamer over the years due to village life. Kakashi is a Hatake, 100%, but he is NOT up to the standards of this time. Which becomes a bit funny when people see him, go "oh FUCK it's a Hatake" and then start edging slowly towards the door like he's about to rip their throat out with his teeth. Meanwhile he's standing there like 🧍‍♂️"am I that ugly."

Give me a scene where, finally used to this reaction to him from the general shinobi population, the team starts to use it to their advantage.

"Give us the scroll or we'll let the Hatake off the leash to have his fun with you. He's been awfully hungry latley you know, hasn't had fresh meat in days"

Kakashi, feeling kind of stupid, gave his best growl.

It caused an almost immediate, embaressed flush to rise to his face, but he didn't let up. It sounded more like an almost pathetic puppy growl than anything to his ears, but apparently it was enough to convince the trembling enemy nin because he slowly lifted the scroll up in offering.

Wow. Now he couldn't tell if he was embaressed for himself or for this guy.

Probably both to be honest.

• So like. Itachi is the clan heir. That's big. That's important. Let's do something with that.

First off, I had a great time reading this one fic (tho I don't even remember what the fic itself was about now, oops) where a plot point of it was how Sasuke is just a walking stereotype of main house Uchiha. Like people look at him and they don't just go "oh that's an Uchiha." They go "oh fuck that's an UCHIHA Uchiha." He's so fucking painfully, obviously related to the very tippy top of the clan that anyone not blind can tell. It's in the way he looks, it's in the way he talks and treats those around him, it's in the way he fucking holds himself. You look at him and every other stereotype about the Uchiha clan is there in big, bold letters. (On top of that he's also a dead wringer for Izuna, which I'm such a sucker for and desperatley wish people would do more with)

So like let's give that to Itachi here because it's so fun for several reasons.

First off; Sasuke in this is like. Straight up a doppelganger of Izuna, just a few generations apart. They could be twins. Itachi, as I'm sure you are aware, is Sasuke's big brother. So let's take some liberties and say that Itachi could absoloutley pass as a blood sibling to Izuna and Madara.

He is however 12, so we're also going to say that the only people who get to make this connection is anyone who's seen the siblings when they were also at a similar age.

On top of that however he has the 'walking amalgamation of all the stereotypes of the main Uchiha house' so anyone who isn't blind will look at him and assume he's somewhere in the sphere of 'important main house person' tho who really knows how distant the relation may be exactly. No one !! That's who !!!

Second; He's the fucking clan heir!! What the fuck!! This bit would have the most impact after all the messy time travel reveals when things have settled down a bit, so it'll sit in the back pocket for a bit. Save it for some fun shaking up later down the line so we don't run out of all the fun reveals too fast and bore the readers, yk?

When it is brought up tho it'd be fun to maybe have some fucky Itachi and Madara mutual understandings of the way things work.

• So. Madara is like a bit of a scary bed time story to Uchiha children, right? Like. "Ooo make sure you don't get too obsessive or fall too deep into your grief and always stay loyal to the village or you'll end up just like Madara!!"

Something something Uchiha-Village relationships are tense as hell, something something Madara fucking over a lot of the clan with his whole. Everything., Something something scapegoat and old stories, something something 'people have probably been talking a lot more about how "god dammit this all started with Madara" in recent years.'

Now with that in mind let's take a look of what our time travelers think of Madara:

Itachi is a good Konoha soldier. Itachi (as has been very much fucking proven) would rather beat a possible problem before it even exists with a hammer till it dies an ugly bloody death than even RISK it blossoming into a proper problem. Itachi does not like Madara. Itachi personally, quietly thinks they should maybe wait till the village is formed then carefully arrange a little accident for him before he goes off the rails. He, even more quietly, maybe even thinks it would be a kindness. Allow him to be remembered well by the village instead of scorned.

Shisui I think is cautiously optimistic about him. He's the kind of guy who gives the benefit of the doubt, who weighs the options, risk and reward, but includes things like hope and compassion in his calculations. Yes, Madara was a uhh. Thing. That happened. But in every story his big blow up always come from one specific event; Izuna's death. So if they stop that from happening, wouldn't it secure both a better future for them and Madara? The history books never went into detail about Izuna, he doesn't know what he's like, but maybe his involvement in the future, on Konoha's side, could lead to even more profits for them long term. At the end of the day he's not against killing Madara (though to be clear, they are at first operating on trying to avoid all interactions with historical events and return home without touching things) but it'd be nice, to manage to get a happy ending for everyone. Unrealistic maybe, but nice.

Mmmm hear me out actually, maybe Shisui, after interacting with him a bit, finds that Madara reminds him of Itachi too. They definatley both have that "I would do unspeakable things to even dream of my loved just one more time" energy, if you know what I mean

Anyways; Kakashi and Tenzo are both neutral on Madara. Yes, they learned about how he betrayed the village when young just like everyone else, but they weren't getting the bed time stories and "do this and you'll end up just like him" warnings like the Uchiha's. They're possibly leaning into negative but are detached from the situation enough to just go "well he hasn't done it yet and his brother is still alive so he won't any time soon" and be done with it

• Now, on the the total opposite side of the spectrum you have Hashirama and Tobirama. People are brought up in Konoha to fucking IDOLIZE these guys. You can not tell me our team of time travelers wouldn't be at least a little awed to speak with them.

I think Tenzo would be the most wide eyed about Hashirama, both for the baseline "holy shit that's the Shodai Hokage" and also that fun juicy mokuton user imposter syndrome he has going on for him. That guys DNA is inside his body!!! Holy shit wait does that mean if someone did a blood relation test with them he might read as being related to him?? Fuck were gonna pocket that for now but like. Mmmmm potential.

I'd say Itachi is the most hesitant about Tobirama but again, village loyalist, so.

You know what tho maybe Shisui is the most hesitant about him (though still largely positive) he both def grew up looking up to him but can also see the anti-Uchiha policies people inact now with the implications that Tobirama would have approved of it. He doesn't know if he would, but like, he has to wonder.

Kakashi is probably the most normal about them (and also has experience in being close to a hokage (Minato) to know that at the end of the day they are painfully human) Don't get me wrong, he's still in some sort of awe! He might get a little lightheaded at the thought of seeing the God of Shinobi in proper battle, or the possibility to see the famed genius of Tobirama with all the different jutsu's he's invented. You can't tell me Kakashi didn't spend a little extra time reading about him when he was trying to make Chidori. Honestly I'm gonna roll with that and say he had a bit of a phase as a kid where he was a total fan boy. Maybe sprinkle in the good old HalfHatake!Tobirama hc to add some faint daydreams a lonley babykashi had after his father's death, about getting to meet him as family. Like cmon, little genius idolizing and projecting on some big history figure only to find out they're actually related? Can you say potential?

Anyways he did eventually grow out of the phase, probably got unattached to it all and lost interest after the whole "losing everything he loved" bit of his life. And at the end of the day, he doesn't have any real complex personal hang ups on the founders like the others do. Thus, most normal.

• And then my favorite most special boy, Izuna !! He's for sure the one they're all most neutral about. He's not actually taught about in the academy? There's probably some throw away line about him in some history books somewhere, but he died young and was quickly buried by the looming shadow of Konoha. The only real knowledge had about him in modern times is just a vague "Yeah he got killed by Tobirama which lead to peace being made but also lead to Madara losing his shit"

Poor Izuna he's the linchpin for it all but was left an unremarkable footnote of history. My boy deserves so much better

Tenzo doesn't actually even know who he is, that boy got bare minimum education under Danzo and Izuna was NOT included.

Itachi and Shisui mmmaybe have some small little fun fact here or there buried in stories from the older members of the clans but like. It's gonna amount to just "yeah he had a great katon" and thats about it.

I WILL SAY HOWEVER. Itachi sees him and instantly is that one PTSD dog meme. Sasuke is a BABY but holy shit Izuna looks exactly like he'd expect him to grow up as and it's making him FEEL THINGS. Also he's so bratty little brother coded !! He's an entire 7 years older than Itachi but Ifachi keeps fucking up and trying to big brother him it's embaressing.

And ofc Itachi didn't go into the first meeting thinking he'd see some weird older mirror version of his beloved baby brother who he misses and worries about very very much. So like. There's for sure going to be some conflict there. If their first meeting is a scuffle (which it probably will be) I think Itachi would keep hesitating to attack. On full run away mode. Which is probably for the best bc he shouldn't try to fight Izuna anyways honey he's like double your bodyweight and you're strong but you aren't THAT strong.

• Pointing back at both the 'Itachi does not like Madara and has quiet thoughts about how it'd possibly be in everyone's interest to just kill him' and the 'Itachi and Madara quietly bond over being clain head/heir during stressful times (w pressure from the elders especially)

I can see 2 outcomes of a potential bonding conversation with them:

1) They come to understand eachother better.

Madara wants to be on good terms, he looks at this kid and sees one of his brothers eyes and the others quiet determination. He can tell Itachi doesn't like him for some reason, and it's frustrating because he doesn't know why. He wants him to like him. He wants to be able to offer his hand and have it taken. It hurts, to be looked at with such suspicion from a face that has traces of Izuna's.

Meanwhile Itachi . . . Itachi looks at Madara and he sees someone who gets it. Gets it like no one ever has. It scares him. He looks up at this man, this horror story he's been told to fear becoming, and he sees himself. And this realization shakes him. It makes him think, makes him wonder. He's so, so sure of his loyalty to Konoha. More sure than he is of anything else in the world. But . . . But if something happened to Sasuke, if he had to choose—

And maybe it softens something in him too, along with the (honestly healthy) dose of fear. It forms a little crack in his shell, just enough to maybe, maybe let Madara through. Just a hair.

Or 2) we pull one of those "The conversation ends with them agreeing verbally but mentally they're on 2 VERY different notes."

Madara, nodding and looking at Itachi meaningfully: "Yeah it can be hard, but all we can really do is try to make the world a safer place for the ones we love. (To create Konoha, to keep my clan safe. Izuna safe. And now to keep you safe too.)

Itachi, nodding slowly: "Yeah. No matter how hard it is (even though I think I understand you more than anyone else Ive ever met) we have to try to make the world a safer place (by killing you in your sleep once Konoha is formed) for the ones we love (My clan. My village. Sasuke.)"

• Also pointing back at the 'Hatake warring clan era reputation,' the 'Tobirama is half Hatake' and also now pointing at Tobirama's title as the White Demon. Small thing but it'd be neat if there was some small throw away line that the nickname lowkey started in part because of the absoloutley terrifying reputation of the Hatake combined with Tobirama's own Everything(tm) like it just had some influence on how some view him. Give me Uchiha's making dog jokes ab him it'll be funny

• Ok but now the actual plot thoughts. Yeah I know I kept you waiting sorry about that.

So time travel! Probably due to a mission gone wrong. Some ruins or some ancient crumbling scroll that wasn't even supposed to do fucking time travel but was so old and corroded that it somehow managed to transform into a whole other seal by pure bad luck. Or good luck I guess, considering it could have just turned into a nuke.

Our favorite team of disasters are very very alarmed !!! What the fuck !!! Obviously they don't default to thinking time travel, but they immediatley know something is wrong. The landscape has changed, though the big landmarks are still there. The mission was complete anyways with no injuries so they just retreat to Konoha. Only oops !! It's not fucking there!!!

Queue alarm.

Shisui is the first one to suggest time travel because he's quirky like that. And there's a very easy way to confirm this theory.

(Also we're going to say that Konoha's location is a valley a few miles out from the Naka River that borders the Senju / Uchiha territories.)

This is convenient because that verification method involves checking in on where Itachi and Shisui know the old Uchiha compound should rest.

They do it in full stealth mode, the second they saw Konoha was missing Kakashi as team leader decided they'd treat the land as enemy territory. They all agreed ofc, for all they knew this WAS enemy territory now.

And, ofc, yeah!! There's the old Uchiha compound!! Being active!!! There are people there!!!

"What are the odds Fugaku-sama decided to have the clan return to their homeland for ahh, cultural enrichment?" Kakashi asked weakly.

"Time travel." Was the only reply he got from Shisui, whispered reverently as the boy vibrated with excitement on the branch.

Itachi just gave him a look, radiating a level of dissaproving disbelief that no normal 12 year old should be able to make. Kakashi would know, he was that not-normal 12 year old once.

From there they decide a no interference policy. Hands off guys!! They probably debate it tho, like, a good amount. They all have ✨️opinions✨️ except maybe Tenzo who's lowkey still in the middle of trying to learn how to be a person and is following Kakashi's lead 99% of the time. Especially since they're still in mission mode and this is like a super serious discussion and he really does know the least ab the founders overall.

They probably debate the merits of going to Uzushiogakure bc seal help but it's really far and they don't actually have like, just any leverage with them. They already decided not to fuck with the future so it isn't like they can trade secrets and warnings. At least if shit happens here they have some plausible deniability, being, yk, 2 uchiha's and a senju-passing guy with Mokuton. Kakashi's kinda fucked tho in that regard but he isn't going to be doing the party ANY favors with his clan heritage.

Which means it's time to potentially get desperate enough to interact with Tobirama !!! Which will inevitably lead to them bumping into a Uchiha patrol or something!!! I don't know honestly

• Anyways want Hashirama and Tenzo to interact. He has so many issues like holy shit. Let Hashirama give him the hug he deserves. I want him to violently adopt him. New brother acquired!!!

I said before but Tenzo is still reprogramming from ROOT. Let Hashirama impact that! Let him help! They can make flower crowns and photosynthesize together idk

Hashirama would be so happy to have another mokuton user, I think they should be able to sense eachother extra strong and like 'ping' off of eachothers chakra, it'll be fun

▪︎ I'm not thinking toooo hard about power scaling and this is fanfiction so a) don't quote me on this and b) for the love of all that is holy don't take my words as gospel

But for this fic specifically I'm ranking the founders and Team Ro, weakest to strongest (in a clean, fair fight head on w no time to prepare) :

Itachi (he's fucking 12 guys. But also he is like. FRACTIONS under Tenzo and Shisui. If he were 13 I'd let him be above or at the same level but like. He's 12. Cmon.)

Tenzo - Shisui (they're like JUST under the next 2 tho like seconds behind)

Izuna - Tobirama

Kakashi ( by the skin of his fucking teeth and the advantage that is his stupid amount of jutsu's and lack of self preservation)

Madara - Hashirama

And again that's not counting like. The specific situations, time given to prepare, potential dirty tricks they could play (I think the Konoha tricks would play a fraction dirtier than the others, who are slightly more used to big open battles vs the ANBU squad who does all sorts of shit in all sorts of places) plus like. Mental state and team ups.

Tenzo or Shisui couldn't take down Izuna or Tobirama but if they teamed up I'd allow it. Kakashi would get his ass kicked by Hashirama or Madara but he could survive a minutes longer than the others would

Itachi is doing his best

But like

He's 12 guys

I love him and he is terrifyingly competent but he won't win 1 on 1 with anyone unless he has some sort of advantage. Minus Shisui and Tenzo who he does have the advantage of regularly fighting, so.

• I think they do get to go back home in the end. It takes a ton of work tho and they probably do need to get Mito's help with it, Kakashi can show them the seal they got brought here with but it's an ACTUAL one in a trillion miracle it didn't fucking atomize them. So it needs a lot of touch ups

Anyways !!!

I have a little more rattling around in my brain but I'm really tired and also starting to think about other things now so I'm gonna stop here. Might come back and add to it later so stay tuned if you're into that

Full disclaimer I'm not gonna write this. I don't have the proper energy and it'd probably end up being too ambitious of a project if I tried. I'd love to see it happen tho, so like !! Big open invitation to absoloutley anyone who might want to take even a fraction of the ideas I've listed.

@ me if you do tho I wanna see the final product

[heeology]

I have a request for a fic where both Jake and reader are starting their freshman year of college and jake is applying to be in a frat, but to be accepted the brothers in the frat make a bet with him to make the reader sleep with him ….

a/n -> omg i was literally thinking abt writing a jake fic (which i'll get to soon) and then this pops up lmao. but your mind...lord, this is such a good idea. anyway, tysm for being my first request !! it means a lot lol and i rlly hope you enjoy this :)) then, just in general, if you also sent me a request, i promise i have seen it !! i just work five days a week now, so i don't rlly have a lot of time to sit and write, but i promise i am working on them and will release them when i can 💕

are you down or what? | s.jy

pairing -> futurefratboy!jake x fem!reader

genre -> college au, best friends (alludes) to fwb

warnings -> MDNI, smut, drinking, cursing, mention of weed (no drug use tho)

w.c. -> 7.3k

!!DO NOT COPY OR REPOST!!

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Going to college is already scary enough, moving to college is even scarier. You wouldn’t categorize yourself as the “outgoing type” and you had pretty much figured your college experience would be dull and stressful; Junior year of high school pretty much prepped you for that. Luckily (depending on how you see it) for you, Jake is the complete opposite. He loved extra-curriculars, joining clubs, joining sports teams, and always made honor roll; essentially, he loved making new friends, trying new things. Everyone adored him and he had practically a long line of people waiting to be his friend. If only they knew they just had to be allergic to any sort of social activity and he would’ve immediately taken them under his wing. He’s always tried to have you venture out of your comfort zone, and sometimes, it worked. This time, however, you honestly didn’t see yourself branching out alongside him. Which both bummed you out and seemed as if it was inevitable. 

Who knew that the kid you met at your fifth grade honor roll assembly and pizza party would be the one you ended up applying to colleges with, let alone plan on going to the same college with? Well, actually, you and Jake didn’t quite get along at first, it was your moms that became best friends well before the two of you did. But, thankfully, both of your moms showed up to the honor roll assembly and brought the two of you together. Even if at first he would try to make conversation with you and you would just nod your head in response, too shy to actually say anything back. At first, he thought you hated him and at the time, you thought he was annoying, but somehow you both came to find these qualities about each other endearing. There were a lot of times you were grateful to have met him and have him as your best friend.

But when he brought up the topic of a fraternity mixer while he was helping–well, more like he was the only one working–assemble an IKEA storage unit for your dorm room as you both sat on your floor, you automatically rolled your eyes. You weren’t surprised in the slightest that one of the first things he wanted to do since you guys got to college was join a frat; it’s like he was born for this, and you mean it in the least douchey way possible. 

“Come on, it’s just like, some mixer; nothing major. I really want you to come. Please?” he says as he drags out the “e” at the end. 

You roll your eyes again and let out a huff, handing him the screwdriver to which he rolls his eyes in return and takes it. “It’s only been a week and you’re already rushing a frat?”

“What? Think I’m not good enough for them?” he asks, joking as he continues to assemble the storage unit for you. You knew he was perfect for this sort of thing, you swear, he was already breezing through it as a pledge, or at least he was making it seem like it. Besides, you’re pretty sure that he is even mistaken as a member already around campus. “It’s not even going to be that bad. Plus, there’s going to be free booze and hella cute chicks, so there’s that to look forward to.” he says as he grins to himself.

“Gross,” you mumble, “it’s not really sounding like there’s anything for me at this dumb thing.”

He chuckles a little. “What? You mean the thought of hanging out with a bunch of sweaty dudes playing beer pong doesn’t sound enticing?”

You shudder, “You’re not really selling your case here, pal.”

He laughs. “C’moooonnnnn,” he whines, playfully bumping his shoulder with yours, “I promise you’ll have fun. And if not, then we’ll just leave after an hour and get some food. Sound good?”

You think for a moment before letting out a huff, “Fine. But if you even leave me alone for a second with those…heathens, then I will never speak to you again.” you say, half joking, half serious.

“You’re acting like these dudes are all terrible people; they’re not the spawn on Satan, y’know.” he says as he can sense the hesitance and apprehension in your voice. “I promise I won’t leave you and I’ll hold your hand the whole time.” he says as he coos and then laughs to himself.

“Dear god.” you mutter, rolling your eyes again, which only makes him chuckle.

“I’m just kidding. But seriously, you’re coming. Who knows, it could be a funny story later on.”

“Right. I bet it’ll elicit all sorts of chuckles.” you say, sarcastically.

He laughs again, shaking his head slightly as he focuses on working on the IKEA product. He shrugs his shoulders. “Maybe you’ll even meet someone there. Imagine if you fell in love with one of the frat dudes.” he laughs at his own thought. 

You scoff, “Ew.”

“I know, right? How mortifying, you fall in love with some muscular, frat boy named Chad.” he shivers, “Scary.” he says, teasing you.

You laugh, “Shut up.”

He chuckles softly and then stops working to look at you. “But seriously, will you please come with me? It would be nice having you there, and it will be our first college party together, how can you possibly pass that up?” he says as he pouts slightly, giving you his best “puppy dog eyes”.

You roll your eyes and playfully shove his shoulder, “Ew, fine! Stop doing that.”

He laughs and grins, “You are the best friend I could ever ask for!” he says, acting overly enthusiastic as he hugs you tightly, ruffles your hair, then kisses your cheek. “We’re gonna have so much fun, you’ll see.”

“Bleh,” you jokingly whine as you wipe your cheek, “yeah, yeah. Just finish my storage thing.”

He rolls his eyes, “Yes ma’am.” he says as he continues working for a few more minutes. He finishes working on the storage unit, turning it upright and smiling proudly. “What would you do without me, honestly? BOOM!” he says as he smacks it lightly, “There it is, built by yours truly; you’re welcome.” he says with a smug grin.

“Alright, alright, calm down.” you say as you laugh a bit. You stand up, rolling it over to a corner in your dorm room.

Jake follows your lead, standing up as well. “Here, I can even help you pick out something to wear for the party. I was thinking of wearing a Polo-”

You turn to him and grimace, “Dear god, you’re already becoming one of them.”

He laughs and scoffs, “Hey, I make Polo’s look hot, don’t even try to act like I don’t. Besides, if I wear a short sleeved one, it will totally show off my muscles.” he says as he flexes a bit, grinning. You roll your eyes and pretend to gag and he laughs and stops flexing before nudging your arm. “Shut up.” he mumbles and turns to look at your closet. “Do you still have that dress you wore to that grad party we went to over the summer?”

“I mean, I think.” you say as you walk over to your closet rummaging inside it (even if there isn’t much room to rummage through).

You were kind of surprised to hear him talk about a dress you wore almost two months ago, but you didn’t think too much about it. You suppose maybe he only did because it was the first dress you wore in a while, so maybe he just subconsciously remembered about it. He glances at you as you look for the dress. He was secretly grateful you didn’t tease him for remembering about it, but he just thought you looked pretty in it. Not that you aren’t pretty all the time just…that time…he shakes his head to himself; it’s just a pretty dress.

He crosses his arms and peers over your shoulder, looking into what clothes you have in your closet as well. “What about that white top?” he asks, pointing out a white, low-cut tank top that is discarded to the side of the closet. “Wear that with a nice skirt or something; that’d look good.”

You glance at it and laugh, “I wear that to bed when it’s too hot. I am not wearing that to the party; my boobs will literally be spilling out of it.”

He pauses for a moment before speaking again. “And that’s a bad thing because…?” He grins, giving you a quick wink which results in you punching his shoulder. He laughs and rubs his shoulder. “Kidding, kidding! But seriously, pick out something. You’ll look amazing in whatever you choose.” he shrugs casually. You roll your eyes and keep rummaging through your closet, suddenly hating every article of clothing you own. He leans against the wall next to your closet, “I swear to god, I can never understand why girls sometimes take so long to pick out what they wear. It’s like, how hard can it be to choose something quickly and then wear it?”

“Jesus, fine, you pick out something, then.” you say as you walk over to your bed, laying on it. “You’re the one who wants me to go, anyway.”

Jake smiles mischievously, walking over to your closet and looking through your clothes. “Do you have those tight, high-waisted jeans? The ones you wore last weekend?”

You raise an eyebrow. Is he talking about the ones you wore to the brunch your mom took you out to with him and his mom? You laugh. “Probably. My mom bought them, so she probably snuck them in there somewhere.” you don’t even realize you’re smiling a bit to yourself, a part of you secretly liking that he remembered them; maybe you looked better than you thought. “Aren’t skinny jeans, like, out or whatever?”

Jake shrugs. “All I know is your ass looked good.” he says as he spots them after looking through some of your bottoms. He grabs them and tosses them at you, the jeans hitting your stomach, causing you to let out a small “oomph”. “And pair it with that white tank top. For your shoes…” he shrugs, “maybe your Doc Martens or something casual. That’ll look good.” he says as he looks at you, nodding his head in satisfaction. “There. Done. And it only took, like, two minutes. See? It wasn’t even hard.” he jokes.

“You chose, quite literally, the most basic outfit known to man.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not even that bad. Besides, you’ll pull it off, anyway.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “I’ll wear the pants and the shoes, but I am not wearing my “booby” shirt, you perv.”

“Oh, c’mon. You know you like to show it off sometimes.” he says, grinning as he wiggles his eyebrows before laughing softly. “Just wear it, please? For me?” he jokes in a playfully flirty tone. “Plus, I need some sort of eye candy when we go to this thing.”

You scoff, playfully. “Ohhhhh, I see what this is.” you say as you sit up on your bed. “You’re hoping if you bring a hot girl to the mixer, you’ll have an automatic in with these frat fuckers, right?”

The tips of Jake’s ears turn slightly red and he scoffs, looking away before looking back at you. “What? No, that’s not the reason. Not the entire reason, anyway.” he says, laughing slightly to hide his embarrassment. “It’ll just be nice to go with you, okay?”

“Uh-huh, suuuurrrreeee.”

He laughs before going to sit beside you on your bed. “Okay, fine, fine, you got me. I did want to bring a hot girl so it'd be easier to get in with the frat. But that's not the whole reason! I also wanted to go with my best friend since we haven't really hung out this week because of classes. And I knew I'd need at least one sane person to keep me in check. Or, at least, as sane as you can get." he teases, wearing that stupid giddy grin of his he gets whenever he feels he said something hilarious. 

You scoff, playfully, “Watch it.” you warn.

He laughs, “Sorry, sorry. I meant a perfectly sane, normal human who doesn’t listen to musicals in her spare time.”

You nudge his arm, “Hey! That was middle school me, back off.”

He laughs again, “I’m messing with you. But seriously, I am glad that you’re coming. It’ll be way more fun with you there.” he smiles that typical charming smile he does, not because he knows he looks good doing it, but because he just does anyway. “I really do appreciate you. Especially since you’re ‘sacrificing’ your sanity to be surrounded by these frat guys.”

“Soon, you’ll be one of them.” you shudder, “I’ll have to start writing my obituary for you.”

“Oh, come on, we’re not all that bad. I'm sure there's at least a few decent guys there that aren't complete douchebags. They're just...eccentric." he jokes, "This mixer will be a great chance for me to maybe get an in with the career path I wanna take plus if I leave a good impression with the frat guys, maybe I won’t have to be a pledge for much longer."

“‘We’re’? Oh my god, you’re already clumping yourself together with them!” you say in fake horror.

“Oh my god, you’re right.” he says in the same tone with a shocked expression. “I’m turning into one of them without even realizing it! Quick, snap me out of it!” he says, laughing slightly. 

You shrug, “Gladly.” you say before punching his shoulder. It honestly hurts your knuckles, but you decide to keep that to yourself and ignore the pins and needles shooting through your hand.

He frowns and looks at you with an “i’m not mad, just disappointed look” which causes you to burst out laughing. “You know, you’ve got a mean right hook. Who knows, you might be the one joining the frat.” he says, rubbing his shoulder a little before wrapping his hand over your knuckles, squeezing it a little. He knows you probably hurt your hand a bit, so he hopes this makes your hand feel a little better before letting go. 

“I’d rather die.” you say in such a serious manner, he can’t tell whether you’re joking or not, but he laughs nonetheless. 

“Just get dressed. I’ll come get you later, okay?” he says as he gets off of your bed.

You groan, “Fine. But I hope you know, you are throwing me to the wolves by making me wear this outfit.”

He laughs and opens your door. “Have to let them know I’m there with the best-looking, smartest, and funniest girl at the party somehow.” he says with a wink.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms. “You’re lucky flattery works with me.” you mutter.

He grins, “What can I say? I know you so well, babe.” he says before nodding his head as a goodbye and walking out of your dorm room, closing the door behind him.

-

Against your will (and your own regard for fashion), you wore what Jake had picked out for you. He smirks a bit as he looks at you after opening your door when he knocks around a few hours later. He looks you up and down, and you notice how his gaze lingered a little longer on your chest before meeting your eyes. You cross your arms, unintentionally pushing your chest a little together, he scoffs as his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek.

“Yeah…I’m for sure getting into this frat.” he says, mainly saying it to himself, but you would be lying if it didn’t give you a little bit of an ego boost.

“Pipe down, it’s literally the most basic outfit known to man.”

“But you make it look hot…real hot.” he grins.

You roll your eyes and shove his shoulder. “Don’t even.” you mumble as you walk out of your dorm room, closing and locking the door behind you. 

He laughs softly as you start walking to the frat house, which is just around a block away. As you step outside, you shiver a bit from the cold and you frown at the fact that you didn’t bring a jacket, but you honestly felt too lazy to turn around and go back to grab one. He notices (and since he wasn’t wearing one either), he opts for putting his arm around your shoulders, pulling you a bit closer. 

“You have to admit, this is a little exciting. I mean, it’s our first college party and I’ll make it my mission to make it memorable.”

He honestly means that; he genuinely wants you to have a good time. He knows how you would rather be spending your time right now, just laying in your bed as you watch some show you’ve seen a thousand times, but he wants to break you out of that. Not that he has any problem with you being more introverted or wants to mold you into something he wants you to be, he has a more…specific reason than that. Your smile. As you two walk, he smiles to himself just thinking about it. How, whenever he sees you smiling this certain way–like you’re smiling for the first time–it’s like time stops; like you’re the only thing of importance in that very moment because nothing else matters, nothing else could possibly compare to how special and beautiful you look in those moments. It makes him feel giddy and the first time he ever saw you smile like that, he knew he had to do whatever it took to make it happen again. 

“Maybe for you, but if it smells like B.O. and weed, I am so out of there.”

He laughs and covers his mouth, his laugh coming out louder than he expected it to. He runs that hand through his hair and turns his head to look at you. “I feel like you have some underlying stereotypes about frat boys.”

“And until this party proves me otherwise, it’ll stay that way.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then you’re on your own once you join their cult.”

He chuckles softly and shakes his head a bit. “I’m not going to become some buff incel just because I want to join this fraternity.”

You knew that. Well, you were hoping that would be the case. But this is different. This is college. Dramatic, maybe, but you were afraid the two of you would split apart and although you have other friends, he’s the one you’ve had for years. He knows everything about you and has seen you through all of your phases and vice versa. You just feel this looming anxiety that him joining this fraternity will be the first step in the direction of you two no longer being friends; that you’ll just become people you pass by on your way to class. You don’t want to tell him this, though, you’re not really ready to have a discussion (which may turn into an argument) about this just yet. You feel terrible for wanting this, but you’re secretly hoping he doesn’t get in. Not because you don’t want him to branch out and experience his own things in college, well, maybe a little. Maybe you’re selfish. Or maybe you’re saving him from turning into a douche. At least, that’s what you’ll tell yourself to feel better about hoping he doesn’t get in. It’s just because you want him to not forget about you. You’re not as outgoing as him, so what if he starts to find you to be boring? The thought made you frown.

-

Ten minutes. It’s been ten minutes and this party is already making you feel like you’re being suffocated from the amount of people at this thing, all of whom already seem to be drunk. Once you and Jake got here, you could already tell you were going to hate every lousy minute you had to spend at this party. Especially since there have already been a few people who’ve had their eyes on you for a little longer than you wanted. You tried to make this situation a positive, trying to just relax and have fun as you see Jake greeting the many people he already knows. It’s only been a week since the semester started and he already knew at least twenty people here (yes, you counted). He introduced you to everyone he��s greeted, though, he didn’t want to make you feel left out. He could see you were a little uncomfortable, probably just because it was crowded and loud, so he decided to take you to the kitchen, getting the two of you some drinks. 

He smiles warmly, “We can dance if you want, or we can just talk, drink, get wasted, and judge people. Up to you.” he says, nudging your arm.

You smile a little and playfully roll your eyes. “I know that’s now what you want to do.”

“But it’s what you want to do.”

You look at him for a moment and before you say anything back, you hear a loud, booming voice calling Jake over. You both look and see some of the frat brothers laughing and motioning for him to come over as they yell at him like he’s some football player on the team they love. You glance at Jake. 

“Please go so they stop.”

He laughs and nods, walking over to them. You take another sip of your drink and then you see someone you met in one of your classes. They notice you and wave and you wave back before going over to talk with them.

Jake walks over to the group of four of the frat boys and greets them, dapping them up. One of them motions their head towards you, “So…who’s she?” he asks, crossing his arms as he grins. The others nod their heads and Jake turns to glance at you before looking at them.

He shrugs, smiling shyly, “She’s my best friend-”

“She rushing Delta Theta Zow?” another one asks.

Jake shakes his head, “Nah, sororities aren’t her thing.”

“Too bad, she’s hot.”

Jake feels himself frown slightly at that. Sure, his intention was to hopefully have them think you’re hot so they would be more inclined to go easier on him when hazing, maybe even just decide to let him in if he could prove he knew some hot girls despite how shallow that sounds. It’s just the way he said it, the way they’re looking at you, that makes him feel sick. 

“Tell you what, Jakey, you let us…get to know her, and who knows, you might just be exactly who we’re looking for.” one of them suggests.

Jake feels all of the blood suddenly drain out of his body and the frat brother grins, nudging another one. “Or, tell you what.” he says, putting his arm around Jake, “You sleep with her and you may just be one of the newest members of Alpha Omega Phi. Sound like a deal?”

“You want me to…”

“Fuck her.”

Well, there goes his chances of joining this frat, which surprisingly, is one of the more tame options out of the other ones. This one has great connections to people in the field of computer science and engineering, which is what he desperately wants to achieve. This could give him a big head start…but he can’t just use you.

He chuckles nervously, “I don’t know…she’s not like that-”

“Too bad,” the frat brother says as he takes his arm off of Jake, “We thought you would’ve fit right in with us.” the others nod their heads in agreement.

Jake thinks for a moment. “...alright…fine.”

The four of them cheer, which ignites cheers from other party goers, making Jake look around and find it a bit strange that they hold that kind of power. 

“You can use Bradley’s room, he could use some sort of action on that bed.” one of them teases and the others laugh. Jake nods his head, trying to laugh along and then they shove him to go over to you. Jake quickly walks over to you, setting his drink on the counter and grabs your arm. 

“The hell-?” you say as he quickly drags you upstairs into a bedroom and he closes the door behind the two of you, looking at you kind of panicked. “What the hell is your problem-”

“They want me to fuck you.”

You feel yourself freeze, all of your muscles tensing up at what just came out of his mouth. Was he being serious? “...deadass?”

“Deadass.”

“Damn…” you mutter, him releasing your arm from his grip. “So…”

He shrugs, “So…” he repeats.

“Guess you’re not getting into this frat.”

He looks at you for a moment, “So, this is like…a for sure thing.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Dude, I’m not having sex with you so you can join a frat.”

“Come on,” he pleads, using his puppy dog eyes again. To be honest, he knew you would say no for obvious reasons, but this was important to him. Sure, you’re important to him, too, which is kind of why he also figured you would be okay with doing this as a favor. “this is really important, I have to get into this frat. I could get an upper hand with some major companies I want to work for once we graduate. Please?” he clasps his hands together, “Just do me this one favor.”

“Fucking me is not a favor.”

“Well, it’s also not a punishment-”

You scoff, shoving his shoulder lightly and he laughs softly. It goes quiet for a moment between the two of you and he looks at you, expecting, wanting you to change your mind.

“How would they know, anyway? Can’t we just, like, pretend to have had sex? You know, like that scene in Easy A.” you suggest.

“In what?”

“Oh my god, we have to add that to our list of movies to watch, it has Emma Stone, so you already know it’s going to be good-”

“Okay, okay, yeah we can watch it later. Are you going to let me fuck you or what?”

You groan, “Can’t I just give you my panties or something and then you can wave them around and brag about it? Actually, don’t do that.”

“Look, this frat is made up of guys in business, engineering, chemistry, and physics majors, they’re not stupid. They’ll know, trust me, and I really don’t want to have to deal with any more hazing because I’m pretty sure it’s just going to keep getting worse and I would actually like to survive my first few weeks of college.”

“Or…you could just not join.”

He frowns, “You know how much this means to me.” You sigh. Yes, you thought this was stupid, but you also weren’t dumb enough to not realize how joining this frat could actually help him in the future. You saw the superficialness of it all and you knew he wasn’t dumb enough to see past it either, but Jake has worked really hard and besides, you would be lying if you said you saw this as a worst case scenario. “Please?” he asks, anticipating your answer.

You sigh again, “Fine.”

He smiles, “God, yes, thank you so much.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“I’ll make you feel so fucking good.” he says. You thought you should take it as a joke, but he says it with a more serious tone before he hooks his fingers through the loop of your jeans, pulling you closer as he leans in, kissing you. 

You were a little surprised by him just going for it so suddenly, but you close your eyes and kiss him back. His hand travels up to your waist, holding onto it as his other hand moves to the side of your face, cupping it as he pulls you closer, his fingers slightly tangling with your hair. He tilts his head, slipping his tongue past your lips, sending shivers down your spine as it slides over your own. He kisses you with a sort of hunger, not expecting to be kissing you with so much intensity, but once his lips met yours, it’s like a switch went off for him and he can’t help himself from wanting you more and more. 

He guides the two of you over to the bed as you continue to kiss, him grunting softly as his eyebrows furrow together, feeling himself getting hard from just kissing you. He parts from your lips, having you both gasp for air before he pushes your hair aside, feeling his long, thin fingers brush past your neck before being replaced with his soft, plump lips. He leaves open mouthed kisses along the side of your neck before turning you around, your ass pressing against his hard on, making him moan softly into your ear from the contact, his precum leaking and staining his underwear and pants. You tease him, grinding against him slightly which makes him bite your neck softly as he continues kissing along the side of it, down to your shoulder. He grips your hips tightly, stopping your movements and you feel his lips and hot breath brush against your ear.

“Don’t play with me.” he whispers, gently nibbling on your earlobe before pulling away. His hands slip to the button of your jeans, undoing it and slowly zipping down the zipper. He pushes your jeans down just slightly, a little past your ass and he feels like he’s going to pass out from his fingertips gently grazing the edge of your underwear alone. He kisses your neck again, his left hand going to your neck, gently gripping it as he moves your head to the side to give him more room. That action alone almost makes you moan, but you just gasp softly as his right hand slips its fingers past your waistband, finally feeling them push against you. He moans at the feeling of you already being so wet and he coats his fingers in your arousal, making a mess in your panties. 

He uses his middle and ring finger to press and circle your clit, causing you to gasp and close your eyes, your head falling back against his shoulder and he pulls away from your neck, breathing slightly heavily. He turns his head to look at you, leaving gentle kisses on the side of your face as he moves his fingers down, pushing them inside of you. From the way your lips part and you let out the softest moan, your eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly, he can feel himself almost cum at the sight alone. He pushes his fingers in and out of you, his thumb rubbing your clit and he leaves a kiss against your ear.

“That’s right, baby, you like this, hm? Fuck, you’re so wet, do you want me to just fuck you now?” he whispers against your ear, knowing he, himself, wants nothing more than to do just that. He fingers you faster, curling them against your walls as the pads of his fingers reach areas you can’t. You moan louder, feeling your legs shake and he smirks. “I bet you taste so good.” he whispers and he pulls his fingers out of you and your panties. “Open.” he demands and you open your mouth, slightly sticking out your tongue and he puts his fingers into your mouth. You lick them as he shoves them a little deeper and then pulls them out, sliding the mixture of your spit and arousal on your bottom lip before he turns your head and kisses you, wanting to taste you. He licks your lip, he sucks your tongue, anything he can just to have you on his lips. He moans softly and pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your lips before breaking. He’s decided he needs more.

He runs his hand along your back, slightly pushing you so you bend over the bed. You can feel your heartbeat against the comforter of the bed. He pulls your jeans down to your ankles, biting his bottom lip as he grins at the full view of your ass on display. His eyes look over how soaked your panties are, feeling a sense of pride knowing he did it. He gently squeezes and kisses one side of your ass, playfully biting it and then realizes he likes the idea of him marking you like this. He bites it a little harder, you moaning and whining at the feeling, your fingers gripping onto the bed sheet. He grins, kissing his teeth marks before he pulls down your underwear, feeling as though he is looking at the gates of heaven itself, his eyes locking onto your pussy. He mumbles something to himself that you can’t hear, but you suddenly feel his tongue slide slowly along and in between your folds. Your mouth opens as you moan, feeling yourself clenching around nothing and he chuckles softly, licking his lips.

He can feel his cock twitch in his pants, more warm precum sticking to his thigh and underwear. He goes back in for more, low groans and moans coming deeply from his throat as he buries his face into your swollen pussy, covering his face in your slick. “You taste so fucking good.” he says with a raspy voice, the vibrations feeling as though they travel throughout your whole body as you moan, feeling his tongue lick feverishly. You feel yourself drool at how he spreads your legs more, his nose and tongue all pressing into you more, him hooking his arms under your thighs, his hands resting and squeezing your ass, raising your hips slightly as he licks and sucks your clit. His nose rubs between your swollen folds as you moan louder, gripping the sheets tighter. 

He licks faster, making out with your cunt as his tongue slips in and out of you. You let out a long moan, feeling as if your knees buckle, cumming all over his tongue, lips, chin, and nose. He moans into your pussy, licking up all of your release and he pulls away, looking at your glistening pussy, rubbing his fingers between your slit, spreading the mixture of his spit and your cum all over. His tongue licks his lips clean, reaching down to lick the part of his chin it can reach and he lets out a low groan, relishing in your taste. You whine as he gives a soft slap to your pussy, licking his fingers clean before using it to collect your cum from the rest of his face and licking that up as well. 

He flips you over, leaning down to kiss you again and you kiss him back eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands roam along the sides of your body, his right one moving up to your chest and groping your breast through your shirt, you moan and whine as he squeezes it tightly, palming and kneading it as he starts to kiss you roughly. His breaths are heavy and before he even knows what he’s doing, he rips your shirt open, his patience dwindling with each second that passes. He kisses down your throat and buries his face between your breasts, kneading them as he kisses between them. He squeezes and pushes them together, licking across them and switching between each one to leave kisses on. He pulls down the cups of the bra, your nipples hardening more from the sudden cold air hitting them as your breathing becomes shallow and you moan with how he is handling you. 

He flicks his tongue over your nipple, sucking and gently tugging at it with his teeth. His tongue swirls around your nipple, his hand squeezing the breast to fill more of his mouth as saliva runs down his chin. He moves and does the same with the other one and your chest rises and falls, moans escaping your lips. Your hand moves and tugs at his shirt, pulling the fabric up and he notices, moving away from you as he takes it off quickly. You feel yourself get even wetter at the sight of his toned arms and abs, looking over every curve of his upper body and he grins. He takes your hand and places it on his abs, moving it over them slowly and you both moan quietly to yourselves. He lets go of your hand and slides off his shoes, you taking the initiative to do the same. You both undress the rest of yourselves quickly and you feel yourself stop in your tracks when you see his long, thick cock slap against his abdomen. You clench around nothing as your eyes look over each vein, biting your bottom lip. 

You reach out, using your finger to slide it over his tip, collecting the precum. His breath gets caught in his throat as he watches you, as you also collect the precum from the side of his thigh. You bring your fingers to your lips, licking them slowly as you look up at him. He watches you intently, his eyes shifting from your fingers, to your tongue, to your lips, to your eyes. You let out a soft moan as you taste him, licking your fingers clean and he reaches out, his hand grabbing your chin and lifting your head up to look at him more. He looks down at you, grinning before kissing you, tasting him on your tongue; that fact alone made him feel proud. He pushes you back against the bed, positioning himself between your legs. He kisses your temple muttering a “thank you” before pushing himself into you. 

Your back arches slightly at the feeling, the pressure between your legs, the way that your walls mold and clench around his cock makes your head spin. You can feel the ridges of the veins in his cock grazing against them, making you clench tighter. He grits his teeth, cursing under his breath as he pushes himself fully into you. He moans and whines a little at the overwhelming feeling of you around him. His forehead rests on yours as he catches his breath, his hands wandering down the sides of your waist to your hips, gripping them tightly as he holds back the urge to cum. He thrusts slowly, sliding in and out of you, subtle squelching noises of your wetness coating his cock. This sound alone, however, causes him to go faster, moans spilling from your lips as the bed creaks harshly, the headboard hitting the wall. His grip becomes tighter and he clenches his jaw, letting out short breaths as he pulls away, watching your tits bounce with each thrust. He reaches and grabs one, playing with your nipple and fondling the breast, his eyes rolling back a bit as he moans. He fucks into you harder and faster, his hips meeting yours quickly, his balls slapping against your ass, the sound of your skin slapping, your moans becoming increasingly louder as your cunt swallows his cock each time he thrusts into it, his soft whines with short moans, and your arousal spreading between your thighs while getting on his drives him wild. 

He pulls out and you gasp at the empty feeling. He grabs your hips and flips you over, pushing your ass up and spreading your legs, sliding himself back in, pounding into you harder and faster. You moan–almost screaming–at the sudden change of pace, your face buried into the mattress as your body shakes. He moans, gripping your ass tightly as he uses that to keep him steady while he fucks you. You moan and scream his name into the mattress, making him moan in return. He grabs a handful of your hair, pulling your head up from the mattress, making you moan and gasp.

“Scream it now.” he demands, fucking you deeper, his other hand reaching to rub circles on your clit hard and fast.

Your eyes roll back a bit and you comply, screaming his name, letting out a lewd moan afterwards as pleasure overtakes your body, your orgasm crashing down. You clench tightly around him, repeating his name over and over as you cum. That was all he needed and until now, he never realized that’s all he wanted. He thrusts harshly a few more times, going back to gripping your hips before moaning your name and pulling out. He pumps his cock a few times and flips you back over, you just giving in because your mind was blank at the moment. He moves up and moans deeply as he cums on your breasts, watching as the pearly white liquid spills on your nipples and the soft flesh, feeling warm and sticky on your skin.

He lets out a breath he seemed to be holding and kisses you. You kiss him back, sloppily, before he pulls away, moving to your chest. He kisses your nipples, a little bit of his cum on his lips before he licks it off. He uses his pointer and middle fingers to spread the cum around your nipples in a slow, circular motion, making you shiver. He smiles, and collects his cum onto his fingers off of your breasts. You open your mouth and he chuckles softly, sticking his fingers in your mouth as you suck and lick them.

“So good…so pretty…” he whispers to you. 

You blush a little and he pulls his fingers out. He moves off of you and you both just take some time to catch your breath. You sit up and you both look at each other before bursting out into laughter. You both calm down after a moment before getting up to put on your clothes, but after you put on everything but your shirt is when you realize you can’t. 

You glare at him, “Genius, what the hell am I supposed to wear?” you ask, holding up your ripped shirt.

He laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, “Damn, my bad.” he looks around and then he takes off his shirt, handing it to you. You raise an eyebrow and take it, putting it on. He walks to the closet and just grabs a shirt from there, putting it on. “I’ll give it back later.” he says, to which you laugh. 

You both walk out of the room, seeing two of the frat boys Jake was talking to earlier. They smile smugly and whistle, cheering a bit and you roll your eyes. They give a thumbs up to Jake and he smiles a bit awkwardly before leaning to whisper in your ear, “Let’s get out of here.” You both walk silently as you leave the party. After a moment, he speaks, “Thanks…by the way…and I’ll buy you a new shirt and…I definitely owe you one.”

“You better get into this frat, I swear to God.”

He laughs, “Damn right.” he says as he nudges your arm and you nudge back. “So, how can I make this up to you?”

You think for a moment and then shrug. “It wasn’t all that bad.”

He scoffs, “Gee, thanks.”

You laugh, “You know what I mean.”

He smirks and looks at you. “You know…you look even hotter in my shirt.”

You roll your eyes and laugh. “What a random thing to say.”

He shrugs, “Maybe…we could do this again.”

You look at him, quiet for a moment. “...very funny.”

“I’m serious.” he says as he looks back at you. He smiles a bit and wraps his arm around your shoulder. “Are you down or what?”

[north-noire]

My Michael Afton throughout the years! ft. his own little doodles. I'll try to be brief about the timeline and how my Michael was without saying too much since it'll be explored in the Hidden Hands AU fic's chapters anyway so I won't say all the details. Feel free to read if you guys like! I have a lot to say about him.

1983 (FNAF 4) - Michael was 12 or 13-ish when the Bite happened. Very reckless yet adventurous kid. Didn't really hate Evan (William, as much as he had a soft spot for Evan, still loved Michael all the same), just had really bad friends and influence (his friends were mostly bullies) - and didn't really like that he's being told to parent a little brother he had no idea how to take care of. It didn't help that Evan tended to be a tattle-tail sometimes about the trouble he was getting into. Michael also, deep down, got scared of what the bullies would do to him if he dared stand up for his brother or spoke out against them, so he ends up going along with what they did for his own sake. After the Bite, Michael was still deeply guilty about what he did to Evan, and it haunts him every night, knowing he had no good excuse but irresponsibility for what he did to his brother, because after all, it wasn't like William wasn't giving him enough attention. Michael just knew that he deserved anything unfortunate coming to him, but is genuinely surprised that his father kept telling him he loved him all the same. From this point on, he becomes easily troubled, tends to stay close to his dad. Makes sure he follows the rules and doesn't do trouble. Just wants to do a complete personality shift, and is deeply ashamed of who he was before. 1985 (Charlie's death, Fredbear's Family Diner shuts down) - Michael was 15 here. Over the years, he slowly isolated himself from most of the people in his life since he gets worried about his past scars coming back to haunt him. Mostly a recluse and reserved. He's not handling things well after Charlie's death and a family divorce - not to mention the non-existent social life he had. Just prefers to be left alone, but he's nice if you get to know him. Doesn't really have a good relationship with Elizabeth, but is actually pretty close with William. Feels extremely guilty and hates himself/blames himself for Charlie's death. He gets paranoid easily, as he thinks whoever took Charlie is now after him, but his father tells him to not worry too much about it. 1987 (FNAF 2) - (17) Slowly having a good relationship with Elizabeth. Starts to get into stuff like the supernatural and becomes superstitious to a degree over the years. In public, he's mostly polite and nice, but his actual personality shows through whenever he's with his father or Elizabeth - he's sarcastic, and has quite a dark sense of humor, can be a bit of a rebel, he's just more subtle about it. A bit of an over-thinker - he gets lost in his imagination/head easily. Has a (surprisingly) good relationship with his dad, as he's not really afraid to be himself around him - sometimes gifts him funny things or something he knows his dad would love/would use (he gifts William a rabbit's foot - for good luck, he says). He also helped William build the Fun-Times with blueprints and other technicalities (He's not really aware of the questionable features they had, unfortunately). He couldn't really come with his father and Elizabeth on Circus Baby's Pizza World opening due to things he had to catch up with his home-schooling, he had been skipping classes to work on the Fun-Times, but he really wanted to graduate highschool with a bang, so he's giving everything his all, here. Then Elizabeth suddenly goes missing all of a sudden, and, well... I would say more, but my fic sort of takes a canon-divergence route around FNAF 2/SL-FNAF 1 so that would spoil half of the stuff I've been working/writing about! Reference-sheet wise, I just wanted to show how he progresses from a rebellious, happy and adventurous kid into a more reclused, anxious and soft-spoken adult. Sorry for the long post! I've just been wanting to talk about him for some time now. There's a looot more that I've left out but yeah that's because there will be more in the fic!

[keyotos]

i am absolutely in love with ur writing AND with gepard landau,, can i request a first kiss fic for him? i read your kiss the girl fic for dan heng and ITS SO GOOD!! tysm in advance, take care of yourself!

teenage dream

summary ⎯ gepard knows he can't keep these feelings to himself. gepard also knows that he can never tell you about how he feels. so, he goes to the person he tells all his secrets to: serval. serval, who told pela. pela, who is determined to set you two up. and doing so, entails a bookish adventure for you to enjoy.

tana's words ⎯ i too am in love with gepard. i feel u anon. also thank u for the kind words!

tags ⎯ matchmaking (serval and pela). first kiss. pining (this should be expected). bookish!reader. bookstore owner!reader. oblivious idiots.

IT’S EXTREMELY SURPRISING TO HEAR GEPARD frantically knocking on the doors of nevermore workshop, so serval obviously had to open the doors for him.

when he entered, gepard immediately shut the doors as if he was being followed. the expression on his face was dire; he looked as if he was chased by wolves and he was being hunted down.

“gepard?” serval asked, concern dripping in her tone, “what the hell happened?”

“serval,” gepard panted. serval was getting worried; this was all irregular behavior coming from gepard, “i need help.”

gepard never asked for help. he is one of the most self-sufficient and stubborn people serval knows. he would rather stare death in the face instead of asking someone for help.

“what is it?” serval rushed by his side, “whatever you need, i got you.”

“i think i have feelings for,” gepard sighed, palm dragging across his face, “the owner of the bookstore,” he finishes quietly.

serval’s jaw dropped. it wasn’t because of the declaration of gepard’s crush. it was that he made it sound so dramatic. serval thought that he was being tracked down and was about to be sent to the madhouse.

“are you serious!” serval shoved gepard, “i thought you were about to die or something!”

gepard recoiled at serval’s shove; his sister was stronger than most people thought, “it feels like i am! every time i’m around them my heart rate quickens so much that i think i’m about to have a heart attack. i get all nervous on the inside and i can barely think with them beside me.”

aeons, gepard has definitely fallen in love with you.

“wait⎯so, where are you gonna go from here?” serval leaned on the counter, trying to process all the words her brother confessed.

“that’s the thing,” gepard sighed again. he sounded like a lovesick puppy, “i don’t know. that’s why i came here, i thought you’d be able to help.”

“um. you are aware of my past relationship with cocolia, right? i think i’m like the least qualified person you should be asking romance advice from,” serval pointed out.

“i don’t know who else i could tell,” gepard ran a hand through his hair. this was really stressing him out.

“how about you just… tell them?” serval suggested.

“no!!” gepard shook his head distraughtly, “i can’t do that. what if they don’t feel the same?”

“then it’s not meant to be,” serval said, “simple as that.”

“but it’s not,” gepard whined. serval thought he was making this a lot more complicated than it needed to be. when she was his age, she confessed her feelings to cocolia like it was nothing. they were happy until the break up anyway.

but then it donned on serval. gepard had little to no relationship experience. the only “experience” serval remembers him having was when they were children: his friend had a crush on him and tried to confessed, but gepard rejected her.

that’s why gepard was so distressed. he had no idea how to go on with this. these feelings for you? all new. what he missed out as a teenager, he is now getting as an adult.

“tell you what,” serval wrapped her arm around her brother’s shoulder, “i’ll get this sorted out. trust me. yn will never know about this,” she reassured him.

“you just go along with your guardly duties. i’ll help you,” serval grinned. she knew that she had the perfect plan. except, she couldn’t do it alone.

pela already knew about your crush on the silvermane guard captain. every time he greeted the two of you at the book store, pela practically saw the hearts in your eyes. it was sickening and disgusting, but it was cute too.

what pela didn’t know, however, was that gepard has a crush on you as well.

serval came to pela just a few minutes after gepard’s confession. she knew that she probably shouldn’t have told pela right after the conversation happened, but serval didn’t know how else to console gepard.

“so… you’re telling me that they both like each other?!” serval slammed her hands on the counter. “and they’re both too scared to confess!?”

“that’s exactly what i said, yes,” pela monotonously replied.

you knew that there couldn’t be anything between you and gepard. it was highly improbable that you, a bookstore owner, would be able to gain the captain of the silvermane guard’s interest. it seemed like something straight out of a fictional (key word: fictional) romance novel.

so you appreciated his friendship while he was around. sometimes, as a way to become closer to the captain, you’d suggest different books to him every week. despite being on the front lines quite often, he always comes back to see you. well, he comes back for the books anyway.

serval groaned into her hands, “so what do we do? they both like each other but they literally can’t bear to admit it.”

pela smirked. she’s read enough romance novels to figure out what to do next.

“two words, serval,” pela smirked, “grand. gesture.”

gepard took a few deep breaths before approaching your book store. after his chat with serval, he's been distressed the entire day. he had these feelings for you storming all over his body; occasionally, they'd get so strong that it would feel like those feelings would overtake him.

he opened the door, book in hand, and greeted you formally. gepard couldn't help it: he was so nervous, he wasn't able to function straight.

"hello, captain gepard," you turned around. you were on a latter stacking books on top of bookshelves. originally, you thought it would be cool to have towering shelves, however you quickly learned that it was extremely impractical and difficult.

"i told you," gepard stood near the counter, refusing to slouch in your presence, "you can call me gepard."

"and i told you," you grunted, trying to reach a higher spot on a shelf, "to drop the formalities," you grinned to yourself.

gepard noticed your (potentially) perilous situation and quickly got near the end of the latter. in the case that you fall, at least gepard would be there to catch you.

fortunately, you made your way down the tall latter peacefully. as you descended, the sight of gepard holding down the latter for you made you flush. it was the bare minimum, but it still made your heart speed up.

when he reached out his hand to guide you down (it was out of instinct), you gave him a warm smile. it looked easy on the outside, but you were burning up on the inside. similarly, gepard had the same reaction. for you, he'd do anything.

"thank you," you held onto his hand for a little longer. once you realized what you were doing you quickly recoiled your hand away and apologized. gepard wished your hand was still entwined with his; he wanted to hold onto to the feeling of your hand in his. gepard wanted to trace patterns on your hands, wanted to feel every part of them.

as an attempt to dissipate the tension (it was making you nervous), you decided to ask gepard for help. "we had a busy day yesterday. a best seller recently came out; people were storming the shelves. good for my profit but not good for my sanity," you let out an airy laugh, "would you mind helping me clean up?"

realizing what you just did (asking the captain of the silvermane guards for help) you quickly added, "unless you're busy! then i'll be okay. you can leave. i'll be fine," you rambled.

gepard parted his lips, almost as if he was about to say something. how could you ever think he wouldn't make time for you? even so, he'd deploy a few other guards if you needed help. he'd make sure your needs were met as soon as possible.

he reached his arm out; his hands were close to your collarbone. then he reached back, scared of what would happen next. how silly. the captain of the silvermane guards was not scared of no monster, but of rejection of the one he likes.

"i'll stay for anything," gepard blurted. you were taken aback for a second, but then once you realized what he had just said, you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and covertly pinched yourself to make sure that whatever was happening was not a dream.

gepard didn't intend to add, "anything," to his sentence. but his mind was thinking it, and then it just accidentally came out. he meant what he said though. if the bluntness of his voice didn't show his sincerity, the blush that was slowly grazing his face probably did.

"thank you, gepard," you bit the inside of your lip to keep yourself from beaming too hard. you had to turn away from the captain once again, for your smile at his words would be too embarrassing to show. how silly of you to act so giddy and childish at one simple word.

gepard thinks he could hear you say his name a million times, and he would never get bored. he wants to hear his name on your lips as if it were a mantra; you've said his name a few times before, and each time he swears he gets more and more addicted to the sound.

"how about i start on the right and you'll start on the left. that way, we'll both finish in the middle!" you clapped your hands together. you gave gepard a reassuring smile.

you two started on opposite sides, but how gepard wished that you two would be closer. however, there are positives to this situation. gepard can brainstorm ideas for the "grand gesture" pela and serval texted him about.

gepard already had ideas in mind. he just needed to figure out the material for them. he obviously will not tear out papers from a book; that will cause more harm than good (for you and gepard; he cares about books).

while gepard was planning, you were blushing. you still couldn't believe he actually stayed with you. surely, there are more important deeds than helping out a leisurely bookstore owner. and this was the most boring task ever: organizing books. yet, gepard was still here. and he was only a few feet away from you.

you turned back to observe gepard; you wanted to see if you had trapped him in a boring task or not. to your surprise, gepard seemed to be enjoying this. he would flip through pages of various books, spend time reading the summaries; gepard would even go as far to reading the first few pages of some books.

gepard liked to read. at first, he started coming to the bookstore to fetch some books for pela. however, after he met you, he began to adopt a newfound interest in books that he never had before. he read some of pela's books, discovered that he did not like them, and went to browse for more. that's when you came up. you thought you had talked his entire ear off that entire morning; you went on and on and on about what kind of books he would like.

you tried to ignore him afterwards; you even offered the books for free because you were so embarrassed. but gepard kept coming back. your recommendations impressed him: gepard had never met anyone who was so meticulous at their craft. and he loved hearing you talk. he loved your rambles, your rants, your reviews. maybe that was the first sign.

gepard caught your gaze as he turned around. he had the same motivation as you: he wanted to see how you were faring in this task. did you miss the proximity you had before? are you flustered as well? do you like him too?

you two were both staring at each other, thoughts racing, until you shouted, "see something you like?" to break the tension.

gepard thought the question was a taunt at first; similar to asking, "like what you see?"

"no!" he abruptly shouted, trying to hide the fact that he was just staring at you. and then he realized the real meaning of your question: he was browsing the books with such intensity. the truth was, he was trying to find your favorite books. you've informed him about them before, always on your bookish rants. he was going to use them for his gesture later on.

thinking that he now looks like an idiot, gepard tries to save himself by shouting back, "i mean⎯ yes! i do. these books are nice," he tried to cover up.

you seemed not to register his mistake, as you tell him, "whatever you want, it's on the house. for your work today. it'll be on the house for life!" you put some books on some shelves and move closer to the middle.

gepard shook his head and chuckled, "you've always given books to me for free." he put some books back and continued around the room.

"are you complaining?" you raised an eyebrow, "what if i just kept a tab on you this entire time? and you never knew?" more books get put away.

"then i'd rightfully pay you back," gepard wholeheartedly responded, "or i'd arrest you," he joked.

you mock-gasped, "for what?" you're getting closer to the middle now.

stealing my heart, the intrusive part of gepard's mind thought. he'd been hanging out with serval too much; he would never say that. gepard internally cringed.

"false advertising," he moved closer to the middle, “i don't know," he smiled to himself. gepard doesn't think he would have the heart to arrest you.

you blushed at hearing the captain lost on amendments. the captain wouldn't know how to arrest you. is this flirting? or are you reading too much into it?

you don't know if the heat on the back of your neck is from gepard's words or the sun shining so brightly on the back of your neck. you stack some more books on shelves; you've now reached the middle. you're having trouble reaching one of the shelves, but you're too lost in your thoughts to even think about that.

in fact, you're too lost in your thoughts that you don't even notice the warmth disappear from the back of your neck. your cheeks are still warm, so you are still blushing. your struggles with the tall bookshelf are lost when you feel a hand over yours.

"i'll take that," gepard quietly mumbles. it's so quiet that you didn't hear it at first.

on instinct, you turn towards him. when you looked at the position the both of you were in, you noticed that you were caged against him. you were caged against the captain of the silvermane guards. against a bookshelf.

gepard towered over you. his body was centimeters closer to fully pressing on you. his breath was fanning on your face. you could see every detail of his face from your view from below. your hands were so close to grazing his chest, so you immediately slapped them to your sides. you gulp, you start to breath quicker, and you feel like you're about to combust.

you swallowed, trying not to move. you were frozen in place as you tried not to disturb gepard. you gaped at him as he was working to organize the books, not noticing the position the two of you were in.

when gepard finished, he gave a sigh of relief. he underestimated your job: if you had to do this every day, you were probably stronger than some of his soldiers. when he opened his eyes, he was greeted by your wide eyes staring right into his.

he was breath-taken by your beauty. the look in your eyes as you look into his was captivating. gepard needed it framed. the way your lips parted made him go feral; his heart stuttered with every second he looked at you.

his arm was pinned above your head. your bodies were so close that you kept focusing on the rise and fall of gepard’s chest. the way his expression scanned yours made you want to quiver against him.

you said the first sentence, “hard work?” your tone was breathless. you were still trying to catch your breath.

“yeah,” he sighed, still not noticing the way your bodies curved into each other, “hard work.”

“did i waste your time?” you whispered. it was quiet, like you were ashamed of your actions. you looked down at his chest rather than his face.

“no,” gepard leaned in, trying to hear your voice one more time. he tilted your head up slightly with his fingers so you could look at him, “you’d never.”

silence crippled the room. it was just you and gepard, the two of you leaning oh-so-close together that your lips were nearly about to touch. a part of you wanted to lean into him; you wanted to pull him closer and closer until you were both out of breath.

but that was delusional. that was something straight out of romance novels, and your life was anything but.

gepard leaned in closer on purpose. he gave into temptation and wanted to feel your lips on his. he wanted to grab you by the waist and pull you so tightly into him. he wanted this: he wanted your kiss, he wanted your insight, he wanted you.

but with gepard, want is not something one could have. especially one like him.

“i’m sorry,” he abruptly let go, “i’m⎯i think, i have something i need to do,” he took a few steps back away from you, leaving about three feet in distance. quite the opposite from how you two were positioned a few seconds ago.

“oh,” you let go immediately. “i’m sorry! i didn’t know,” you quickly ran to the other side of the room. you wanted to hide from embarrassment.

“not your fault!” gepard shouted as he headed for the exit, “goodbye mx yn!”

you didn’t bother to say goodbye as you slammed the door shut after he left. what just happened was mortifying. the position you two were in? the way you two gradually leaned closer to each other? no wonder he ran away, you thought, you must’ve scared him off.

oh, if only you knew how wrong you were.

you didn't see gepard for a week after the incident. he hadn't come into the bookstore at all the entire week. however, that also could've been your fault: you've been in and out of the bookstore for the past week. if you faced gepard after the incident (you've dubbed), you'd probably apologize and beg for forgiveness.

but still, wouldn't he come in and leave a note? wouldn't he at least stop by once? did you scare him off that badly? the more you thought about it, the more you thought about becoming a hermit.

you'd thought you terrified him and ruined your friendship (and any future hope of a relationship) until flowers appeared on the counter of the bookstore. your assistant refused to let you know who they were from.

you bent down and eyed the pot of flowers sitting on the counter. they were your favorite color: pink. you had to admit, they were gorgeous. they looked well grown, as if these were from a master gardener. the flowers bloomed perfectly, each petal reaching out for the sun.

the message of the flowers also intrigued you. begonias are the flowers that symbolizes knowledge and deep thoughts. whoever gifted these to you must have been very observant or they wanted to be your intern.

"did someone come by asking to be my intern?" you stood up and put your hands on your hips. your lip twisted in thought. you were a bit preoccupied at the moment; the bookstore was getting exceptionally busy and (with your whole gepard crisis going on) you didn't think you were fit to be a mentor at the moment.

"no," your assistant shook her head. you leaned back on the counter, wondering why (and who) would gift you flowers on such a strange day. you already knew it wasn't gepard, due to the awkward tension surrounding the both of you right now, so you had a big list to narrow down.

"but," your assistant continued, "someone dropped off this letter with the flowers. they told me to give it to you after you saw the flowers," your assistant handed you the letter.

it was very formal, the letter. it's envelope was very extravagant, fit for someone with high standards. the stamp was still warm, meaning that this letter had been written recently. you tore open the envelope to reveal it's contents.

yn,

please do me the honor of accompanying me to everwinter cafe tonight. i would really appreciate seeing you there.

gl

"g.l." you paused, "as in green lantern?!" you asked your assistant, wide eyes and all. "who is trying to cosplay as a superhero to talk to me? this is insane. did i owe someone a book or something? charged them extra?" you panicked.

your assistant frowned at your idiocy. who else could 'gl' entail to besides gepard landau? "what if it's the captain," your assistant urged on, nudging your shoulder.

"it couldn't be the captain," you jolted. does your assistant know? "we barely even talk," you try to reason.

"he comes in here nearly every day," your assistant counters, "if not every day, be it every other day," they sighed.

"he just comes in to look at books," you placed the flowers in a safe space in the shelves. "we don't converse as often as you think."

"you talk every day," you assistant drags on. "you're telling me that the two of you have no relations whatsoever?"

"we⎯it's complicated," you sighed, "long story short, it could never be the captain," you looked down at the plant. even if it was gepard, what was he doing? sending anonymous flowers? cryptic notes? why couldn't he just talk to you?

"you should go," your assistant encouraged, "you never know. it could be the captain or it could be another potential secret admirer."

"you think?" you raised an eyebrow. your assistant nodded in response.

you looked at the flowers one more time. though you wished it was gepard who sent them, you knew it was probably someone else trying to flatter you into taking them in as an intern. but as you stared at the begonias, no other thoughts beside gepard consumed your mind

it was late when you walked to everwinter cafe. tonight was not a particularly chilly night, but belobog's slight chill was ever present.

you walked around aimlessly, trying to walk slowly so you can prolong the sight of your "intern." you tried to focus on other things as you walked past, such as the plants and heaters surrounding the city. it's wondrous how things such as plants are still able to flourish in times like these.

as you viewed your surroundings, you saw a note placed on a lamppost close to the cafe. it read, "'i know you're working. i wanted to be somewhere...' safe? familiar? comfortable? 'near you.'

you automatically knew which book that quote was from. book lovers by emily henry. it was your favorite romance book; you've raved about it many times with gepard.

as you continued, you saw another note, "'if you saw yourself the way other people see you, you'd never doubt again.' 'how do people see me?' 'like you're the most beautiful, most remarkable, thing they've ever seen."

you must admit, you blushed a little bit while internally reading that. the only reason you blushed was that because you discussed that quote with gepard. you were talking about the 'twisted' series and how it had it's pros and cons with gepard, and this quote was one of the pros.

another read, "'who are they? the best part of my day.'"

another, "books she has found, are a way to live a thousand lives."

and the last, "'favorite word?' 'you.'"

you quickly noticed that these were all quotes from your favorite books. these are books you've only discussed and rambled about with one person: gepard. you'd never thought he would've actually read these books. let alone, you'd never thought gepard would also quote them.

with slightly more hope than before, you ran up to everwinter cafe.

"did you get my message?" gepard stood tall in front of you. you couldn't look into his eyes and it was killing him.

"your letter? yes, i did. and your flowers too. they were beautiful," you rocked back and forth on your heels.

"thank you, i grew them myself," he gave you a soft smile. you wanted to talk about how he managed to even grow such beautiful flowers, but how could you talk to him if you couldn't even look at him in the eyes? "but, did you get my message?"

you looked down at the many notes in your hand. it turns out gepard had left notes after all, "oh yes. i did," you blushed at the obvious context of the quotes. "all my favorite books."

"yeah," gepard spoke breathlessly, as if all of his air had run out after he started speaking to you, "but did you get my message?" he looked at your face for any type of indication: whether you liked him back, hated him, or had no strong feelings towards him. his eyes darted throughout your face, and the sight made you slightly flustered. he was leaning over you, and you thought you saw his eyes graze over your lips.

then it donned on you. the flowers. the letter. the sneaking out at night. the romantic context of all the quotes. the way all the quotes were from your favorite books that you've only talked about with him. the way gepard has admired and remembered every single thing about you. your stomach dropped as you realized gepard had been feeling the same things you have felt for him this entire time. your heart pounded in your chest as you finally met his eyes in the pale moonlight.

"yes," you swiftly exhaled. it was like all your hidden feelings for gepard were compacted in your chest, and when you finally breathed, they were all let out. it was like all your troubles were leaving you, "i did."

"and..." gepard trailed off, now failing to meet you in the eyes. he was terrified of your rejection; your opinion was one of the things that mattered most to him. before, he regarded it was his passion for the people, but now he recognizes that he was just passionate for you. "did you like it?"

"i loved it," you smiled; it wasn't just a soft smile this time, like the ones you've always given him. it was a big smile: loud and talkative, much like you. one smile could convey so much.

but you still had thoughts, "i didn't need all of this though," you grabbed his hand for reassurance. you were in range of his lips. you could close the gap right now.

gepard froze; your words and your touch made him tense. he was finally able to look you in the eye, having prepared himself for iminent rejection and was ready to leave. whatever you needed, he would do.

"what do you need?" gepard asked frantically. "whatever you need, i will give it to you. whether it be space or never seeing me again."

what you needed? you needed his thoughts, his opinions, his reassurance. you needed his touch on a cold night, you needed his arm around you when you were cold, you needed to feel him beside you on nights similar to this. you needed everything that he was.

"i need you," you whispered up on his lips. "right now."

and gepard swore the entirety of everwinter city heard his heart drop to the ground. he was sure that you could feel his heart pounding in his chest after you said those five words. only five words, yet gepard felt like he was going insane. he was going insane for you: your touch, your mind, your words, your entirety.

gepard removed his hand from yours for just one second, using it to tip your chin up so you could be in his view. in the pale moonlight, you were gorgeous. to be fair, you were always gorgeous, but something about tonight extenuated your beauty.

"can i⎯"

"don't even ask," you cut him off, leaning into him.

the kiss was soft and sweet at first. the feeling of your lips pressed onto his was heavenly: gepard felt ten times stronger with you than with anything else. it was gentle and tender.

but when you tugged your arms around his neck, all restraint went out the window.

gepard moved his hand from your chin to your waist, pulling you closer into him. it was bold for his first kiss, but who could blame him when you're holding onto to him so tightly?

you threaded your hands through his hair as he kissed you feverishly. his hands on your waist made you want to combust into him. you were standing on your toes at this point; if you tried to stand any taller, gepard was about to lift you up into the air.

when you finally stopped to breath, all that was left in the air was your love and the light from the sky.

"was i your first kiss?" you asked him coyly, arms still wrapped around his neck.

gepard blushed and you immediately knew his answer to your question. you stood up one more time to give him one more quick kiss.

yes, you were his first kiss. and gepard wished for more to come.

i need a week off after this fic i swear to god

[kenzlie]

so i have an idea for a fic idk but i feel like it might have good potential ..but anyways it’s where a fan meets the triplets at an air port and matt finds her very attractive,so he talks to her for a bit (after realizing she is going to the same place and waiting to board) and she ends up sitting next to matt on the flight across from nick and chris..and they get freaky in the seats-taking it to the bathroom.

you were walking through the airport about to go sit down and wait for your flight until you saw three familiar faces, it was the triplets, you had been a big fan for so long, you were always a matt girl, you liked them all equally but you just felt connected with matt more

you walk over to them slightly nervous “hi, can i please get a photo” you say smiling uncontrollably “yeah of course!” chris says as him and nick stand close while matt stands by you with a hand on your shoulder making you more nervous

after you the photo was took matt stays as nick and chris go find somewhere to sit “i like your bracelets, did you make them yourself?” matt says quite impressed “yeah its kind of a coping method” you say while fiddling with the jewels on you’re wrist not knowing that the matt sturniolo was admiring your beauty right now when you looked up your eyes immediately connected like magnets “so where ya headed?” he asks with a soft smile “im going to boston” “no way same, are you from there?” he replies “yeah i grew up there”

after chatting for a bit you hear your flight is ready to board, you wave bye to matt and his brothers before getting up and walking not noticing that the three were shortly following behind you

once your on the plane and walk towards your seat, you see matt he was sitting by the window with his headphones on, you softly chuckle and sit down, he looks over at you, his face instantly lighting up “my favorite fan is my flight buddy?” he jokes making your heart melt “just our luck i guess” you laugh quietly, you look over and across from you was nick and chris, they wave at you and you guys exchange smiles

there was about a hour or two left until destination, matt and you had a LOT in common “so do you have a boyfriend..?” matt whispers “nope” you grin “you joking, y-your like angelic” he stutters making you feel all giddy “why do you ask?” you chuckle “i- just wondering, y’ know” “matt your so nervous, whats wrong” you say placing a hand on his shoulder, then your eyes land on the bulge in his pants, throbbing for some sort of touch

“i- im seriously sorry.” matt says covering his crotch “on a plane?” you question “i couldn’t control myself, something about you, i don’t know if its your eyes, your laugh or just you” he blurts quietly while peeking over at his sleeping brothers across from you two, before you even knew it your hand was sliding down to his aching boner, he jolts in surprise “what if someone sees..” “what?” you say innocently while stroking him through his boxers “f’ hell”

you slide your hands in his boxers, you smear the pre cum around his tip, he lets out soft sounds before placing his head on your shoulder and gripping your thigh “get up n-now” he demands quietly “but-“ “go to the bathroom now.” he says

you get up and walk past all the sleeping passengers while matt follows behind, when you get to the bathroom he leans you against the wall in the small space “is this okay?” he whispers while groping your left tit “y-yea” you whine needing more of him, you try bucking your hips into his crotch but he holds you back “so f’ needy..” he tsks

he pulls your shirt over your head along with your sports bra and immediately starts sucking on your right boob while groping the other one “so perfect f’ me” he praises “m-matt..” you say impatiently

soon enough your pants and panties are down to your ankles while hes behind you thrusting deep, hitting all the right spots “so tight.” he says while holding your waist with one hand while his free hand is covering your muffled moans “gotta keep you quiet, pretty girl” he whispers before speeding up, you squeeze around him begging for release “cmon cum all over my dick baby..” soon enough your coating his cock in your juices.

a/n: i enjoyed writing this, gimmie more request 😼

TAGLIST:

@chrissslut

@xoxo4chrisss

@luvb0xoxo

@ccolleenn

@phoenix062

@sturnobsessedwh0re

if i didnt tag you its because your tag wouldnt show up

[zeevawyte]

Ok so, this is so far outside my usual stuff it’s insane, but this literally won't leave my brain and I don't know if I have time to write it so-

RadioApple fic idea under the cut:

TW: blood, mentions of cannibalism (it's Alastor, duh), semi-unsafe dom/sub (no actual sex), sub drops

Starts out your normal "stop interfering with my relationship with my daughter & you can have a snack whenever you want" kinda deal, with Alastor taking full advantage of the fact that he's got the most powerful being in hell at his mercy. Dude has a serious power trip the first time, & between that and the taste is hooked immediately.

And of course Luci isn't exactly complaining. Other than the occasional jumpscare via shadow, it hasn't been too bad. Kind of enjoyable actually, not that he'd ever admit that to the demon's face. And it's not like he hasn't been tied up or held down before either.

But then during one of their ‘meetings’ he ends up going into sub space on accident… and it keeps happening.

This wouldn't be a problem except Alastor (for obvious reasons) has literally zero information/knowledge about that sort of thing. And, being the dramatic asshole that he is, enjoys getting the last word and leaving without a backwards glance. Which means he's not there when Luci drops.

Hard.

But it's fine! He's fine! He's the King of Hell, he doesn't need some sinner to help him deal with the consequences of an arrangement he proposed in the first place. He's totally fine on his own.

Except he's not.

He is very much not fine, and it starts to show. It gets so bad that one day Charlie actually asks him if he’s ok mid-conversation.

Enter Angel Dust.

Now, by this point Angel’s like 98% sure the two powerhouses are going at it. Alastor has been in a good mood for months now (coinciding suspiciously with the two of them not being at each other’s throats all the time - at least in public) & he’s seen Luci coming out of a room straightening his coat and hat on one of the upper floors. Not to mention the down-right flirty undertones to any barbs they shoot back and forth.

Husk agrees that something is going on but heavily doubts it’s what Angel thinks.

Determined to prove that he’s right, Angel starts wandering the upper floors or heading up just as Alastor heads down (subtly, he’s not an idiot). Anyway, he’s up there one day being nosy when he hears a crash from one of the rooms. He goes in only to find Lucifer on the floor, having tripped over a side table and knocked over a lamp, disheveled and absolutely shaking.

He recognizes what’s happening almost immediately (fuck you very much Val) and gathers the little king up onto the couch, helping him calm down until he doesn’t look like he’s going to either spontaneously start sobbing or throw up on the rug.

Luci is understandably embarrassed and tries to offer him a favor for his help, but Angel waves him off saying he’s been there & that Luci doesn’t owe him anything.

The next day when Lucifer is off doing something else, Angel grabs Alastor and all but drags him into a side room.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you and short king, and frankly it’s none’a my business-”

“No, it isn’t. And if that really is all you wanted to speak with me about-”

“Shut up! I’m not jokin’ alright? I’m bein’ 100% serious. You’re fucking up big time, and I’m pretty sure you don’t even know it. So if you don’t want this whole thing to end in a big fuckin’ mess you need to listen to me.”

Cue a hilariously awkward conversation where an unusually serious Angel explains dom/sub dynamics and the effects/consequences therein to an incredibly-uncomfortable-but-desperately-not-showing-it Alastor.

It ends with something along the lines of

"And look, I don't know if you actually care about the guy or if it’s just about gettin’ your kicks, but honestly? It doesn't matter. You've got your whole gentleman thing right? Openin' doors for the ladies and shit?" *pokes him in the chest* "Well as a gentleman, you've dropped the fuckin' ball. Only self-centered dicks leave their sub to drop alone."

Now if there’s one thing Alastor will not abide, it’s a loss of manners. Being told he’s been unknowingly committing a social faux pas gets under his skin immediately. It itches at him. To the point that his smile almost slips. More than once.

He needs to fix it. As soon as possible.

He’s visibly twitchy the rest of the day.

Husk corners Angel to ask what the hell he said to Al, but only gets a vague, noncommittal answer about letting him know about some information he was missing.

And the next time he and Lucifer have a ‘meeting,’ Alastor stays.

[lcriedlastnight]

can i request a little fic where you (reader) is doing a haunted house with oscar and some of the others and out of fear, you’re clinging to his beautiful gorgeous delicious muscular arms the whole time. he probably finds it hilarious and teases you about it after

his arms makes me tweak out, anon. i'll never be serious about it.

tw: fem!reader, haunted house (i've never been to one so idk how it works), lmk if you want me to add anything.

w/c: 934

it was all lando's idea. "let's do a haunted house! it'll be great fun!" he said. he only suggested it because he knew how much of a scaredy cat you were, you could not even sit through a horror film without jumping out of your skin a million times. yeah, lando knew all of this yet he suggested it. you knew it had something to do with your little crush on the other mclaren driver.

a group of you were standing outside the haunted house that was placed in the middle of this pumpkin patch. it actually looked very cute and the girl in you adored all the autumnal decor placed around the area opposite the house. everyone was eager to get inside and get spooked but you were praying that the house just burned down or collapsed so you would not have to chicken out of this. you can see lando smirking at you from the corner of your eye and it pisses you off.

"y'alright?" came an australian accent, ringing through your ears. would it be weird to say you felt calmer already? because you did. you spin around to face the boy that everyone was waiting on.

for a autumn night in the middle of october it was surprising mild out and it was seemingly hot enough for oscar to forgo a jacket of any sorts. just a tight fitting, black t-shirt that had his biceps on display. it was like he knew how feral one glance at them made you because he placed them directly in your eye line as he crossed them over his broad chest. god you could just take a bite of him right now. the sight of the boy distracted you from why you were even nervous in the first place.

"yeah! how are you? why were you late?" you question with the usual concern you had when it came to oscar. anyone with a pair of eyes and a set of ears could tell how down bad you were for the australian. except maybe, oscar himself. that was fine with you, you did not want him to know about it. oscar hums and shrugs his shoulders.

"traffic." he smiles at you so you know he is lying but you could care less when he smiles at you like that.

"what? you scared or something?" lando would call this projecting if he was listening in, which let's be honest, he was probably listening in from somewhere. the brit somehow finding out about every conversation you have ever had with your crush. oscar just laughs at you but before he can actually respond to you lando is calling everyone over so you can all go inside together. everyone knows they will slip off into their own groups eventually but they entertain him anyway just to keep him happy.

"how would you feel about going 'round with me?" oscar asks, voice kind and gentle just like it always is with you. you are so thankful he asks that first so you do not have to beg him to go around the house together. it would make it seem like you were scared or something! you just nod at him with a smile. you both hang back and end up being the last ones in your group to head in, much to lando chagrin, wanting to keep everyone together.

you do not even get past the first scare before you are wrapping your arms around the big, muscular one that belongs to the boy beside you. it was resting at his side before you pulled it to your chest with a scream as a girl dressed as a zombie peaks out from a corner and slowly limps over to you both. you shuffle both you and oscar along quickly. the boy has to try hard to keep his laughter hidden because he know you will think that he was making fun of you, even though he found it so fucking cute.

your grip was deathly around his arm as he just let you cling to him like a child who was scared to get lost in the shops.

you stay like that until you are both in the clear and finally out the back end of the house. you can see the rolling field of pumpkins as you try to regulate your breathing and pretend like you were not even scared at all. oscar finally lets a laugh out as he peers down at you, his eyes are kind so you know he is not being mean when he is laughing at you.

"were you a little scared?" he teases, an eyebrow cocking up in questioning as you turn red and try to clear your throat to rid yourself of the embarrassment coursing through your body.

"me?" you scoff like it was something unimaginable. "nah, i think you might have been seeing things piastri."

oscar cannot help himself and it does not even seem like he tries to hold himself back this time as he openly giggles at you. it makes you smile.

"tell that to the nail marks on my arm, honey." even though his tone is teasing his words are kind and make you heat up again. you hope oscar just chalks it up to being caught out and not the pet name he just called you for the first time. you are speechless but oscar just laughs as he guides you back to rest of the group. promises of not telling a soul falling from his lips in hushed words that gets you hot all over again.

[satans-helper]

In Your Fantasy

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x (F) Reader

Word Count: ~5300

Warnings: semi-public sex (like...very low-key), oral sex (F receiving), unprotected PIV sex. 18+ only ~

This took me forever to finish because I started it before my stupid tonsillectomy and I was totally useless throughout most of the recovery. Also, it's been absolutely ages since I wrote a Jake x Reader fic so I'm not sure how I feel about it...I really enjoyed writing this regardless of my trepidation though. I loved the idea of falling in love with him at work and him being so cheeky...hope you enjoy it too <3

P.S. also ages ago, I wrote a Josh x Reader fic that also took place in a library which you can read here. Links on my desktop masterlist aren't active for some reason...but I found it using a certain tag lmao. If you know, you know.

---

You were finishing up fixing the order of some art books in the back of the library when you felt Jake come up behind you. “Wanna hear something kind of crazy?” he whispered in your ear, his chin nearly on your shoulder, his hair brushing against yours. Without even seeing him, the closeness and warmth of his body and the low, husky whisper sent a tingle up your spine–he certainly added a level of intrigue to working in a library. 

“Always,” you said, slipping the last book into the correct spot. It was a quiet Thursday afternoon–you’d thought it’d actually be busier given the rain that kept bucketing down outside, creating an even cozier atmosphere, but maybe people just wanted to stay home with their books instead. That was fine by you. You liked it when it was nearly dead silent throughout the building and Jake was there to occasionally break through, his voice a river through your thoughts and his subtle touches all shockwaves to your heart. 

When you turned around to face him, Jake looked like he was holding back a hilarious joke or something, eyes all eager and a grin tight on his lips like he was bursting at the seams. “So I just went to the bathroom and guess what I heard?” he went on, raising his eyebrows. 

You scrunched up your nose, already worried. This wasn’t what you were expecting when he’d said ‘something crazy.’ What sort of craziness happened in libraries anyway? “There are a lot of things I can think of. Is this a gross story?”

Jake chuckled. “It depends on your definition of ‘gross.’ Okay,” he said, looking around to make sure you two were still alone in the section. Then he looked into your eyes again and lowered his voice even more to tell you, “There were people fucking in there.” 

You scoffed, offended on behalf of the library–the sacred, beautiful space where people went to relax and read, not deal with lewd conduct. That wasn’t crazy, that was just offensive! “What, like two guys?” you questioned, tilting your head, a little irked at Jake finding this all so funny. 

“No, a guy and a girl.”

“Ugh. That’s even worse. Women shouldn’t have to deal with getting laid in a men’s bathroom,” you said, then were momentarily distracting yourself with yet another out of place book on the shelf.  “I’d never do that. I can’t believe someone else is. I mean, kids go here.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Jake said slowly. He leaned against the bookshelf and looked at you pointedly, his dark eyes even darker in the dim light. “Then again–”

Before he could finish, you had another thought. “Wait, Jake–did you say anything to them?”

“No. What could I say? I just high-tailed it out of there as soon as I heard.”

You sighed. The whole thing would be far more redeemable if your boyfriend had at least tried to throw out some warning words to the perpetrators. “You should have told them to stop. I would have.”

“I’m sure they finished soon after I left.” He smirked. “It sounded like they were pretty close.”

You groaned quietly and turned away, preferring to find another thing to busy yourself with now. “Gross. They should be banned.”

Jake followed along right at your side as you whisked through the rest of the art section and back to the cart you needed to empty. “I didn’t see who they were, so no chance of that.” At the cart, he put his hands on it, keeping it in place. “I actually thought you’d find it sort of amusing, Y/N.”

You leaned over, almost close enough to touch your noses together. “You’re such a guy. Only a guy would think it’s amusing and not disgusting.” 

“I don’t know about that. Maybe you’re just a little stuffy,” Jake replied, tilting his head up as if he were challenging you. “Although maybe I shouldn’t be surprised, considering we’ve never done anything like that.”

You scoffed again and leaned back, surprised and still a little irritated, but also genuinely curious. “Oh, so you want to fuck around in a public place? That’s something I didn’t know about you.”

Jake’s challenging stance turned crestfallen, and he lifted one of your hands to press a kiss to. “Forget I said anything about it. I mean, I suppose you’re right–it is kind of gross.” He kept your hand clasped in his for a few seconds as he said, “But I’d never make love to you in a public bathroom. I’d hope you know me better than that.”

You looked over your shoulder at the sound of a man clearing his throat, settling down into a chair with a newspaper. He wasn’t paying any attention to you or Jake, but you gave the cart a push anyway, cajoling Jake off it so you could navigate to where you needed to go next. 

“It’s really the fact that it’s the bathroom that makes it so gross,” you whispered as Jake kept following you. You couldn’t deny you’d had some secret fantasies about getting it on in the library–after all, it was where you and Jake had met and where you continued to spend the most time together. But none of your fantasies included the restrooms in the hall, or the utility closet or that little corridor tucked away across from the restrooms where the vending machines were. Too grody, too cramped, too obvious.

“At least our bathrooms are clean.” Jake parked himself right next to you once you were in the biography section, and when you stepped away from the cart, he wrapped his arms around your waist and held you in place. “But if I’m being really honest, I have thought about us, well, fooling around here. I think it’s quite surprising we never have.”

“Jake,” you said in an attempt to protest, but his sweet, pretty face and ticklish touch on your waist made you giggle, and his confession that echoed your own secret thoughts lit a little spark. “We work here!” 

“So? All the more reason. It’s always been our special place.” Jake smiled as he got even closer to kiss you; you kissed him back, looping your arms over his shoulders. He was smiling even bigger when you both broke away and he said, “You know, it’s just me closing tonight. You should stay after with me.”

“God, and do what?” you replied, but, despite yourself, you were growing more intrigued. 

“Well, don’t you think the study rooms here are nice and cozy?” Jake questioned, still latching himself to your side as you started to put more books away. “There aren’t any cameras in any of them either. No one would know.”

You looked up at him from your crouched position, sliding a book into place. “Someone would know. Someone would find out somehow.” You were quickly finding even more perfectly good reasons in your mind not to do this, to not even really toy with the idea, but the more you thought about it, the more you thought, why not? Could the risk make it more fun? Even just the new, ill-fitting, sort of scandalous environment? 

Besides, Jake really did look hot today. He looked hot every day, but the second you’d seen him after he’d come into work earlier, he’d lit a fire in your belly that was more intense than usual. His hair had the perfect level of slight messiness and the relaxed black button-down shirt was perhaps one or two buttons shy of being overtly inappropriate for work; the smooth tan skin of his chest exposed and acting as a lovely backdrop to the long silver chain dangling, the pendant hitting his sternum. You could imagine tugging on that chain, grasping the pendant in your palm, to pull him closer while he pressed you against one of those thick wooden tables. You’d run your fingers through his hair and kiss him in the frozen silence, and maybe no one would ever know after all.

“I can practically hear the wheels turning,” Jake remarked, tapping your forehead once you were standing again. “You know you want to.” 

You let out an inadvertent nervous giggle and rolled your eyes. “Yes, I’m thinking about it.”

Jake stepped closer, pressing you back against the cart of books. “I’d love to hear some of those thoughts,” he said, putting his hands on your waist.

“You’re lucky it’s dead here today,” you said, keeping your voice a whisper despite the, indeed, dead library around you. You rested your arms over his shoulders, twisting a strand of his hair between your fingers; Jake just kept looking at you with that sweet, silently begging gaze until you giggled, relenting. “Okay. I was, um…thinking about you pushing me down on one of those big tables.”

Jake’s eyebrows rose. “What else?”

“Well…” you began, looking down at his dark jeans rubbing against your skirt. “You’re giving me some more ideas now.” You lifted one foot off the floor to rub your calf over his, the delicate material of your tights creating subtle but scintillating friction against his denim. 

Jake ran the tip of his nose up your cheek and whispered in your ear, “Same here.” 

Just as you were closing your eyes and allowing yourself to let your environment fall away around you, to forget about all the risk of being caught right there, and just as Jake’s hand was sliding down between your legs, a person’s incredibly soft–thanks to the clever carpeting job–footsteps headed your way yanked you right out of the moment.

Jake, too. He shot back and cleared his throat, ran a hand through his hair and looked in the direction of the footsteps; you did too, and soon enough an older woman with her nose already in an open book trotted past the shelves. 

“See?” you whispered, gesturing at the passer-by who was already out of view. “It’s so easy to get caught.”

“Please, that lady didn’t notice a thing. Alright,” Jake said before he stole one last hurried kiss. “I should let you keep doing your job and I should carry on with mine. But will you stay after with me tonight?”

You pursed your lips as you looked at him, considering, but it wasn’t long before you said, “Alright, Jake. I’ll stay after and we can play out your little fantasy.”

“It’s your fantasy too, baby doll,” Jake said with a wink before he half-turned, beginning to step away. “I think we’ve established that.”

-

There wasn’t a whole lot to keep your mind occupied as the afternoon carried on. The rain kept coming down, hammering hard against the roof and windows, and the sky outside was pure gray, all flat and blank. It reminded you of your first day working here, as a matter of fact–that morning in the previous late October, when autumn’s chill was officially in the air. A fine layer of frost had even been on the ground that morning; your shoes had crunched over it on the short walk to your car and you’d had to use your defroster once you turned the key, your anxiety peaking as you had to wait even longer to start the new job. 

How could such a quiet, peaceful place encite so much anxiety anyway? You remembered wondering that very question as you walked over the sidewalk to the library entrance for the first time since being hired, the concrete slick with that morning frost and the beginnings of a gentle rainfall. And just when you’d been settling in and getting comfortable, Jake had showed up and introduced himself, all casual and easy like he didn’t know he was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen.

Thankfully, Jake was also the sweetest man you’d ever met. It didn’t take long before his beauty and charm stopped intimidating you and instead just made you feel all light and full of joy–you were simply happy to chat with him whenever you both could spare a few minutes. Those few minutes steadily turned into shared breaks; then, shared lunches where you’d sit out back on the one picnic table when the weather permitted. Then he started bringing you special treats sometimes, things he knew you liked because he actually listened about what you liked, and then after that he started bringing you whole lunches packed with love and care that you’d never experienced before. 

So, after all that, was it really such a big deal to make love inside the place in which you fell in love?

None of your other coworkers even seemed to notice that you were staying later than planned this evening. But, just to be safe, you also made a point to hide out in the kid’s section when closing time crept up, busying yourself with cleaning up stray crayons and markers and then browsing through some of the newer picture book additions when you were done with that. 

When you were sliding one picture book back onto the shelf and reaching for another, you noticed the part of the library beyond the kid’s section dim; you stood up and walked out into the main area, and there Jake was behind the checkout counters flipping switches.

“Despite almost always being the one to close,” he said, flipping another switch. “I still sometimes forget which lights actually get turned off and which ones stay on.”

A path of yellow light led the way past the checkout and reception, past the few rows of public use desktop computers. Jake held your hand as you both stepped through the library, your heartbeat speeding up a bit with nervous yet delightful anticipation; a few more steps and you were further into the very back of the library, just about there. Four study rooms were staggered just beyond the teen reading section, two on the left and two on the right with a wall of windows in between. 

Jake opened the door to the last study room on the right. A large window was in there too, soaking in the deep sunset that was resting beyond the grass outside and the trees, and the mostly-bare branches of all the trees were throwing shadows across the library grounds. Then Jake flipped the light on, making it all disappear.

“Oh no,” you said, reaching behind him to flip it off again. “It’s sort of magical with the light off. Look at that sunset.”

Jake followed your gaze out the window to the wash of deep blue painted across the sky, nighttime so early in autumn that only a slight sliver of golden-orange remained just on the horizon. The rain had stopped a few minutes ago and had left a lingering mist on the ground, its faint haze trailing along just outside the windows–the whole scene was so much more peaceful than what was going on inside your head. You couldn’t shake the possibility of getting caught even though Jake was right about there being no cameras back here, and there was no one else around, not even any of the custodial staff, and not a soul out there in the fog. Just you and Jake in the little dark study room, his hand still warm around your own.

Your thoughts started to drift away, making space for your mind to comprehend the shadowed image of Jake before you as he gently turned you to face him. He smiled with the slightest bit of white teeth gleaming between his full lips, and you instinctively smiled back, pulled under his charm again. So, now effortlessly charmed and put at ease, you wrapped him in your arms and pulled him close, caressing his shoulder blade with one hand and the slight curve of his waist with the other as both of your smiles disappeared into a kiss. 

“You were making me crazy all day,” he remarked between the kisses that accelerated with both of your lips parted and the wet meeting of tongues. 

“Really? You kept it well-hidden.” Of course Jake did–you never doubted his affection and passion for you, but he kept everything so private. It was one of the many things you liked about him. You cupped the back of his head, sinking your fingers into his hair, scratching his scalp with your nails just the way he liked it, and kissed him again.

“God, your ass in this skirt,” Jake said, voice a little rough, and he reached down to grab you there. “The way your hips move.” He licked his bottom lip as he took a moment to just look at you, his eyes scanning your face. “So unbelievably pretty.”

You held the side of his face. “You are too, Jakey.” He really was, and even in the dark–perhaps especially in the dark, actually. The shadows enveloped him in even more mystery than normal, but you could still so plainly see the angles of his face and the smoothness of his skin in the faint, distant glow of the lingering sunset. Jake smiled at the sound of that little nickname coming from you, then disappeared as he pressed his lips to yours again and pushed you back against the table just like in your little fantasy. 

You felt the warmth of his hand travel around your hip then slide down over your skirt; you kissed him harder and spread your legs a little wider when his fingers skated effortlessly up your thigh over your tights. Jake purred against your mouth as he traced the seam of those tights, and subsequently the crotch of your panties beneath, with one fingertip, and your own hands hurried down his body with much less grace to squeeze his ass and feel the hardness between his legs as reciprocity. 

Before you could do much more than that, he was pushing your skirt up all the way with one hand and continuing to use the other to tease you. Your breath caught in your throat as you were finding yourself trying to stay silent despite the library being completely empty; Jake carried on with longer, deeper touches over the crotch of your panties and tights. The steady back and forth of his fingers over the two thin layers of fabric sent a delightful tingle of pleasure up your spine but you couldn’t forget his either–you kept that one hand of your own on his crotch too, gently squeezing his erection through his pants.

Jake huffed softly and kissed you again; you clutched his arm with your other hand, squeezing his bicep. Maybe other people didn’t mind getting caught–maybe there really was some sort of thrill to it. Maybe other people actually sometimes wanted others to witness their most intimate moments but you didn’t. You couldn’t imagine doing this with the lights on in the middle of the day, with the soft noises of people beyond the walls and the risk of someone catching a glimpse from opening the door or from outside the windows. You were perfectly happy with having Jake all to yourself in the shadowed little square study room, his skin so perfectly warm, his kiss so perfectly molded to yours.

“Was this part of your fantasy?” Jake questioned as he slowly sank to his knees, keeping your skirt bunched up over your hips with both hands now. But it was obvious what he was doing, so you took their place to keep it out of the way while his hands squeezed your thighs as he pressed his face between your legs.

The scant sharpness of his teeth over your crotch made you gasp. “Maybe,” you answered, thighs quivering against the table behind you.

“Oh, come on,” Jake beckoned, looking up at you with a sweet but slightly mischievous gaze, his eyebrows raised just enough to display teasing curiosity. 

“Seems like you already know,” you replied, stifling a giggle at him struggling to get your tights down from beneath your skirt. 

“I don’t know how you wear these things,” he remarked, which made you actually let out a laugh.

“Just rip them for fuck’s sake,” you instructed, eager now, already wet for him. “They’re not expensive.”

Jake didn’t hesitate. “If you insist,” he said as he grabbed a fistful of black nylon in each hand and ripped the tights right open, then quickly pulled your panties to the side next, giving you no time to think at all anymore. Whatever words your mind may have found merely turned to shaky breaths as you watched Jake’s face disappear between your legs again.

He gave a little hum just as he went straight in, the bridge of his nose rubbing up against your clit while he dove his tongue into your center like he really did want to eat up all the arousal that had been conjured up just for him. Your fingers found his hair again, knuckles curling to tug the long strands while your nails scratched his scalp again and he let out a little pleased sound, almost like a gratified laugh, and dug his own blunt nails into your inner thigh as he kept you spread open. 

One word finally emerged from your lips–Jake’s name, simply spoken in a soft tone as the ministration of his tongue and lips had you squirming and quivering even harder, your heels digging into the carpet below as you slightly struggled to stay upright. The repeated flicks of tongue over your clit disappeared for a brief moment, then slowed to one long drag of his tongue over your center just to start that quick pace again. Sighs and whimpers were dragged out of you with each lick; when Jake slipped two fingers in, the slow but easy stretch made you tremble and clench your fingers into his hair even harder.

“You’re so tight,” he commented when he pulled back just enough for you to look down again and see your own wetness glistening on his lips and chin. You could feel it too, how much tighter you were clenching around his fingers as he gently thrust them and teased, curling them and now rubbing your clit with his thumb.

“You’re so good,” you told him breathlessly, closing your eyes again when the sensations had you arching your back. You hissed and bit your lip when Jake’s mouth found you again, his tongue teasing your clit more while he slid his fingers in deeper.

You had thought it would take more of a conscious effort to relax in this space and just let go, but it was easy, so easy–you just let your body respond to Jake with each tremble and moan and gasp and tug at his hair until your legs were outright shaking. Panting, the peak rising deep inside, you pulled him closer and he obliged, sucking on your clit as his fingers curled and gently tugged deep inside you too as if he was literally trying to pull you right to the edge you were already rapidly careening to.

His name from your lips once more wasn’t a soft little sigh; it was a sharp, long whine that seemed to boom in the little study room. Your ferocity surprised you even more when the overstimulation came on so soon and you yanked his head back with one hand and shoved him away with the other, your hand gripping his shoulder. Panting, eyes still shut, you could feel how much wetter you were with his saliva and the rush of your orgasm, the fluid soaking your panties that were pulled to the side and even the very inside of your thighs. 

Jake pressing a kiss to your thigh made you look down but he was getting up on his feet now; your gaze followed the steady movement of his rise and then you were whisked away into blissful darkness again when he closed in and kissed you–close-lipped because he was so polite. But you parted yours and slid your tongue over his and gripped his waist tight for a moment before hastily getting those buttons on his shirt undone, fingers trailing all the way down to get his pants undone next. 

He tentatively pushed you back onto the table a bit more so your feet were off the floor, legs still spread wide around him and dangling when he pulled his pants and underwear down just enough to reveal that heated hardness. His cock leaked just a bit as he stroked it once, looking at you, and a blip of that old insecurity born from adoration and fascination stroked your brain, because Jake was just so beautiful and his beauty was so much more stark in contrast to the plain white walls behind him. 

“That was intense,” Jake said with a chuckle, leaning in to kiss you. You sighed against his lips as he slid the head of his cock all through your wet center, making a point to rub longer and harder over your clit. As he slid in, taking your breath away entirely, he sighed too and you watched his shoulders drop and his chest flush and he asked, so casually, “Is your fantasy being fulfilled?”

Even with the impact of Jake’s cock filling you so perfectly, you had to laugh. “You're a fantasy, Jake,” you told him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to bring him closer, to make the head of his cock hit so deep inside you that you gasped again as if you weren’t expecting the feeling. “What about–” You had to pause when Jake gave his first thrust. “What about your fantasy? This was all your idea.”

“It was a shared idea,” he reminded you with the cutest little smile. How could anyone be so sexy and adorable at the same time, especially during the actual act of sex, especially when that sex was taking place inside a public library? But he was, and you kept your eyes on him as he steadily sped up with his hips and his hands explored your body over your clothes, one squeezing your breast through your shirt and the other smoothing down your waist, your hip, traveling around your thigh.

“Oh god,” you chirped when Jake’s fingers made contact with your still-sensitive clit; but he was gentle, clearly deliberately being slow with the little circles he was making. With your arms still a loop around his shoulders, you sank your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and held him there for a minute before the soft pink of his chest became too tempting not to touch.

“Fuck yeah, that feels amazing,” Jake said in that deliciously hazy, husky voice after you slipped your hands past his open shirt to toy with his nipples. Bringing more attention to him put your lingering overstimulation in the background–you continued to tease with one hand while the other skated over the other side of his chest, feeling his warm, soft skin, up to his neck. You caressed him there, your fingers lightly touching the tender skin along his throat and then up to his ear, and Jake moaned softly and tilted his head to try and get more contact.

That was fine by you. You lightly scratched behind his ear like he was a cat and he sort of purred like one anyway, making you giggle; Jake giggled too and surged forward, picking up his pace as he whisked you away with another series of kisses that were deep but just sloppy enough for your mutual moans to be voiced. 

But, also to your surprise, Jake began to voice more thoughts between increasingly ragged breaths: “Remember when we first met?” he asked, his fingers over your clit sliding down to get slick again from your own arousal. “That was–fuck, that was such a good day.”

“It was,” you agreed, playing with one of his earrings as your other hand squeezed his pec. “I’m lucky I even got the job here. For a lot of reasons.” You stole another lingering kiss before adding, “You’re the biggest reason.”

Jake smiled. The sunset that had been just barely clinging to life when you’d both began was gone now–the only illumination was coming from a parking lot light that was too far away from the windows to see, but the pale yellow glow was scant enough to see that alluring, mystical beauty that your boyfriend possessed. Just looking at his face was enough to make you come again.

But Jake’s skilled fingers and the heat, weight and stretch of his cock still thrusting into you certainly helped. You buried your face against his neck now that you had access to all of him; a thick sob was muffled as you tightened and spasmed around him, and you heard him let out a quiet “wow” as the second orgasm rolled through you. 

His fingers on your clit, thankfully, moved away. He gripped your thigh again instead; his pace was now messy and fierce, and you had to fight to stay in place not only from the harsh movements and how the table you were sitting on was skidding a bit across the floor, but also from that second round of intense bodily excitement. 

“God,” you huffed, stifling another laugh. Apparently it didn't matter where you were–if you were with Jake, he just gave you the giggles. “You’re really going for it.”

Jake cradled the back of your head, messing with your hair a bit. “And I’m–hmm–almost there.”

You kissed him softly and sweetly, from his collarbone and up his neck to his ear. “Good boy,” you whispered there, giving his ear a nibble. Jake moaned wordlessly in response and gave one last deep, solid thrust that jostled you backwards and made the table creak, then he went slack over you, his whole upper body all loose and so hot that warmth was radiating through his shirt.

When Jake lifted his head, you leaned back and waved the back of your hand over your forehead with a silly “whew” motion; Jake laughed and nodded, then slowly pulled out. He collapsed forward again, resting his head on your chest, and you wrapped your arms around him once more. 

“Well, we’ve done it once. Do we ever need to do it again?” you asked, petting his back.

“Like, um, sex?” Jake asked, mumbling against your chest. “Or sex in the library?”

“In the library, duh,” you said with a chuckle, and kissed him when he lifted himself up and looked at you. 

“Where else should we do it?” Jake replied, his tone and little smile making it obvious he was kidding–finally. You were glad to have played out this little fantasy and do something new and a little risky, but you’d be even more glad to just go back to the way things were. Nothing wrong with a classic. 

“Our bed, definitely,” you said, and Jake smiled and nodded again; you began working on buttoning up his shirt. “Our couch. The floor. Maybe the shower.” 

“Maybe?”

“Last time we tried the shower, you nearly cracked your head open,” you reminded him, lifting a hand to cup his jaw. “And nearly broke your perfect teeth.”

Jake’s smile grew wider. “That would be terrible, wouldn’t it?”

“I’d never forgive that stupid shower.”

Jake patted his hands from your shoulders down the length of your body, stopping at your ankles. “Well, babe, we’re both in one piece now, aren’t we? Time to close up?”

“Definitely. The custodians are probably going to be here any minute.”

“Oh my.” Jake held your hand to bring you off the table. “That would have been quite the show for them.” 

“No more shows,” you said as you both put the finishing touches on getting yourselves decent before Jake opened the door. “I should be the only one looking at you when we fuck.”

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