#but I was laughing about it and they were like... apologetic about being bad?? d

[silentsamlikesham]

Cat Got Your Tongue? - Zosan Temp!Mute Fic

Thank you to @gingeralejasminetea for the following prompt "sanji or zoro somehow becomes temporarily mute and the other just *happens* to be the only one on the crew that’s able to completely accurately interpret their facial expressions/gestures, leading them to be their translator until their voice comes back" I'm not going to lie I did STRUGGLE with having only one of these idiots being able to speak. I made the brave decision to have Sanji lose the ability to talk and like- Zoro is a man of few words :'D. I'm not fully satisified with the ending to this fic, so maybe someday (not soon) I mayyy write a part 2, we'll see. OKAY ENJOY!! **Not Beta Read. Please excuse any and all mistakes**

Words: 4,350

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Sanji tugged at his red checkered scarf, glaring at the faux grass on the Sunny’s deck as he listened to their tiny doctor finish his explanation to the crew. Chopper had gathered the crew to the deck after finishing his check-up on Sanji after the crew’s last fight. The air was tense from the fury radiating from the chef and he couldn’t bring himself to look at either of the crew’s two fabulous ladies to cheer him up, lest he’s met with eyes of pity.  

It was a burst of laughter that broke the silence, the sound reddening Sanji’s face as he turned to glare at the source. Of course, it was the mosshead doubled over the railing, tears streaming down his face as he laughed at Sanji’s expense.  

“Zoro!” Chopper chastised, as Nami slapped the swordsman on the arm.  

Luffy also began to chuckle from where he was perched under the ship’s mast, Sanji slowly dragged his gaze from Zoro to his captain.  

“Sanji, you can still cook meat, right?” Luffy smiled, wide and unapologetic.  

The chef nodded his head slowly, confused by the question before he had an armful of his captain to catch as Luffy catapulted himself straight into him. His stretching arms wrapping tightly around Sanji, but careful not to wring around his neck.  

“Then let’s have a barbeque!” Luffy decided, the crew laughing and cheering as the mood on the ship changed back to its usual chaotic state. 

“Luffy! Don’t squeeze his chest, coughing will be just as bad as talking for his throat.” Chopper wailed, pulling at his Captains foot until Luffy let go of Sanji, unraveling until he snapped back onto the deck.  

“Sorry Chopper.” Luffy smiled, not looking the least bit apologetic.  

“Does that mean dart-brows can’t smoke, Chopper? I bet that would really slow down the healing process.” Zoro grins, reveling in the look of horror creeping across the cook’s face, slowly twisting into rage as he began marching towards Zoro, his foot already smoking.  

The swordsman grinned, his hand going to his nearest hilt as Chopper dived between them.  

“NO!” The little reindeer cried out, tears forming in his eyes as he looked between the two of them, knowing the danger of getting in front of either of them when they were about to spar.  

  “No fighting!” Chopper did his best to keep a wobble out of his voice, relaxing a bit as the two, unwillingly, relaxed their fighting stances. “-and, no smoking.” 

Sanji waved his hands around in frustration, pleading with the tiny doctor with his eyes before running a finger across his neck at Zoro to let him know that the swordsman is dead as soon as he recovers.  

“Sanji, your throat is really swollen...there’s nothing I can do but tell you to rest it.” Chopper bites his lower lip as it trembles, his voice cracking like he’s about to cry. “Please, just a few days, no smoking, no talking, and-” The small doctor turns to meet Zoro’s eye as he finishes “-no fighting. Okay?” 

Sanji looks briefly to the sky, searching the clouds for some strength before he nods at Chopper.  

“Whatever.” Zoro yawns, over the whole thing as he realises there’s no more fun to be had. “Not like Curly-brows ever has much to say anyways.” 

Sanji’s hands curl into fists as Zoro walks by him, flashing him a shit-eating grin as he knows Sanji can’t bite back with his usual banter and shitty nickname.  

“You’ll heal fast, Sanji.” The cook looks down at where Chopper had stopped beside him, looking up at him with his wide eyes and child-like face. “And I’ll check on you every day, so you’ll know when it’s over!” 

Sanji lets out a small sigh through his nose, wanting so badly to comfort the little doctor and tell him ‘I know Chopper, you’ve done all you can.’ Instead, all he can do is pat Chopper’s hat and motion for him to follow Sanji into the kitchen. He can’t comfort the doctor with words, but he can give him some chocolate instead.  

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Sanji was doing his usual lunch time rounds, dropping drinks and nibbles in front of his different crew mates. He spun out of the kitchen with his customary enthusiasm and excitement. At the last island they’d stocked up on, he’d managed to pick up some local honey and he had spent the afternoon making sweet protein balls out of it, mixing the honey with oats and some with chocolate.  

He skipped over to the ladies first. Robin hiding beneath the cover of an umbrella while Nami lay out in the sun, tanning beneath the relentless rays, her skin sparkling from the sunscreen she’d lathered on her skin.  

Sanji was swooning from the sight alone. His throat was aching, twitching as he blew a heavy breath from his lungs, longing to serenade the ladies with an onslaught of compliments and small talk.  

Instead, as he approached the ladies with his usual twirling and dancing, he could hear the familiar sounds of sniggering and noticed Usopp, Luffy and Chopper hiding nearby. 

“Ooooh Nami-Swannn your skin is as radiant as the sun, let me refresh you with the coolest of drinks and the most divine snacks the new world has ever seen.” Usopp did a terrible impression of Sanji, pretending to hold a cigarette in his fingers as he spoke.  

The impression had Luffy and Chopper cackling and rolling on the floor as Sanji sent daggers through his eyes at them. Robin chuckled at the sight, leaving Sanji deflated and flustered as he left her drink and nibbles in front of her. She smiled up at him though, thanking him with a warm look in her eyes. It was enough to easily snap Sanji back from his mood and had him twirling around Nami again.  

He managed to make his way over to Usopp while the sharpshooter had his back to him, continuing his poor imitation. Sanji felt marginally better as he got to kick the sniper in the back of the head, sending Luffy and Chopper running in fear and leaving Usopp groaning and overreacting on the ground.  

He didn’t even kick him that hard, but still Usopp cried up at him and clung to his leg, begging him to stop.  

Sanji tried to shake him off, anxiously glancing at the tray of food and drink as Usopp unbalanced him, dragging him left and right. Sanji didn’t easily drop a tray, and Usopp wasn’t that strong, but fear made the sniper erratic, and Sanji would probably cry in frustration if his shitty situation with his throat led to any food waste. 

“Oi, Usopp, knock it off. Curly’s gonna kill you if he drops that tray.”  

Sanji froze at the words, startled that he was hearing his thoughts spoken aloud.  

He glanced over to the swordsman leaning against the mast, he’d been convinced Zoro had been asleep in the shade. But now the mosshead was watching the pair through his one eye, the gaze feeling more intense and violating than usual. 

Usopp squeaked in response, throwing himself off Sanji and scampering several feet back from him. Sanji frowned, glaring at Zoro who held his gaze for a mere second before he shut his eye again. Sanji wasn’t used to losing Zoro’s attention so quickly, usually the pair would be foot to blade by now. Even if Zoro had just helped him out, he would have told the Mossball to shut it and keep out of his business and they’d be several bruises deep into an argument by now. 

Instead, Sanji had to swallow the comeback he couldn’t speak and continue upon his deliveries. He handed Usopp his drink with a cold glare, earning himself an apology and flurry of excuses before Usopp insisted on helping him hand the rest out.  

He served Zoro last, as usual, and the idiot must have been using his haki because he didn’t wait for a kick to the head to wake him up. His eye opened as Sanji got close, the distance at which Sanji would have usually insulted him and called him a name to get his attention. Zoro put a hand out for his drink without being asked and accepted his plate of blander, unsweetened protein balls without a word. 

Sanji stared at him, resisting the urge to bite his lower lip in thought as Zoro eventually gave him another glance.  

“What, Curly? Cat got your tongue?” 

Sanji’s frown deepened, his brows knitting together before he let out a tsk and stomped towards the galley. Once inside, he fiddled with the scarf around his neck, loosening it and letting the fabric fall into a long loop. He looked at the dark line of bruises in the reflection of a hanging pan above the stove, willing the purple and blue skin to heal.  

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It was day three of Sanji’s induced muteness and he felt like he was really starting to lose his mind. He’d never appreciated how often he used his words to convey things, to join in on the fun around the ship and to stand up for himself.  

The last three days had felt like a comical silent movie, chasing Luffy around the ship when he snuck into the galley, rolling his eyes at his ship mates annoying antics and last night, having to throw Usopp from his bed to wake him up to dispose of a spider in the bunk room.  

It was infuriating, it was tiring, and Sanji could feel a headache pulsing behind his eyes from the toll it was all taking. On top of the muteness his sore throat was making it difficult to drink, to sleep, to eat. Pain, Sanji could tolerate, but the hunger pangs he was feeling in his stomach were unnerving.  

Needless to say, Sanji was on edge. In fact, he was beyond the edge. He was clinging onto his sanity by his fingernails and right now, his current predicament might just be the final straw.  

If Sanji cries in the galley because he can’t find the knife Zeff gave him, the one he uses every day, the one that is basically an extension of his hands, then he might just throw himself off the side of the ship.  

He was staring at the kitchen island like he was going mad. His hands moving over the cold marble and brushing over the vegetables that were waiting there to be chopped. 

He’d just had it. How could a knife grow legs and walk away? He started lifting any plates and tea towels around him, sure he must have thrown them on top of it by mistake.  

A hand curled into his fringe, pulling slightly as Sanji let out a huff of pain. He needed a smoke, he needed a cigarette so badly, but he refused to make the healing process go any slower. There was no way he was going through this for more than a few days.  

Right as he was about to bang his head off the marble, someone spoke up from the corner of the room. Sanji flushed red as he jumped, he’d been so engrossed in his search and his poor mood that he hadn’t noticed the Mossball slide onto the couch the far side of the dining table. 

“It’s by the sink, Cook.” Zoro scoffed, folding his arms and tucking his chin against his chest, clearly about to nod off for a nap. He doesn’t usually do so in the galley but one glance at the falling mist of rain outside, and it made sense.  

Sanji stared dumbly at Zoro for a moment. What was the idiot talking about? Beside the sink? He turned his head, his eyes catching the glint of steel as his knife lay just beside the drying rack. He must have left it there when he threw the pans into the sink to soak.  

He looked back to Zoro with a raised brow and a wide eye. How the fuck did he know he was looking for his knife?  

But Sanji couldn’t ask and from the soft snores filling the galley, Zoro wouldn’t have replied anyways.  

Sanji picked up his knife, spinning it gently in his hand as he fiddled with the handle. He chopped up the vegetables in his usual rhythmic routine, but every time he scooped his prep into a bowl, he snuck a glance at the swordsman.  

Since when was Zoro a mind reader? 

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By the fifth day, Sanji felt like he was really going insane. No longer because he still couldn’t speak or smoke, but because Zoro was creeping him out. Every time they were in the same room Zoro was making small jabs and comments to Sanji that were almost perfectly in line with the running monologue in Sanji’s head. 

It was unnerving to see the Mosshead so aware of someone else. Usually, Zoro brooded in the corner, unmoving in his preference to exclude himself from most shenanigans and conversations on the ship. Now, Sanji was starting to realise the Mosshead was completely aware of what was happening around him and of his crewmate’s thoughts. At least, he seemed to know exactly what was going on in Sanji’s head. The cook was used to feeling that connection with the Mosshead in battle but for the day-to-day stuff, it was startling. 

The weirdest thing to happen so far, had happened today. The crew had docked at a small island, inhabited by a group that lived in a village on the southern side of the island.  

The log pose was going to take over a day to reset so Luffy had decided they should spend the evening partying on the island and spend a night at a local inn. It hadn’t been an easy thing to arrange with the lovely Nami worried about their budget, but there was no arguing with the captain when he wanted to party, and the rest of the crew were happy to get black out drunk and pass out in a bed that didn’t sway with the ocean.  

They’d gone to the nicest restaurant on the island, mainly because Zoro pointed out that Sanji had his eyes on the building from the moment they found the center of the island. 

That had been strange enough, that Zoro was actively pushing for something Sanji wanted. But the weirdest part was when they had to order. Usually, Sanji would order for most of the crew. He was easily able to tell what each of them would want most from whatever limited menu they had to order from. Tonight, Zoro hadn’t even paused after his order when he added- 

“The curly-brows wants the spicy seafood dish, and a glass of whatever wine will go with it.” 

It wasn’t as refined an answer as Sanji would have given the waitress, but it was close enough to the mark that Sanji’s jaw had unlatched as he stared dumbfounded at the brute. 

“What?” Zoro scoffed when the waitress disappeared into the kitchen, and he noticed the cook’s eyes on him.  

Sanji looked even more pissed off then, wishing more than he had this entire week that he could speak and ask the Swordsman what the fuck was going on.  

Instead, the crew interrupted them with their own chatter and chaos and Sanji was forced to sit back in silence for the following hours.  

It was only when everyone was heading towards the inn that Sanji had a moment to confront the mosshead. He fell into step with him at the back of the group as they all made their way to the inn. Zoro barely even glanced at him as they walked, and Sanji could feel the tick of annoyance on the back of his head as Zoro stayed silent for nearly the entire stroll.  

As they arrived at the inn, Sanji grabbed Zoro’s arm and physically held him back from following the crew through the main entrance,  

“What?” Zoro groaned, glancing longingly at where a bed was waiting for him. “What do you want, Cook? Not like you have anything to say.” 

Sanji continued to glare at him, his gaze hardening at the callous words.  

Zoro eventually glared back, letting out a frustrated tsk as the silence stretched on and Sanji did nothing more than angrily huff at him.  

“Look, are we going to fight and not tell Chopper or are you going to let me go the fuck to sleep?” 

Sanji’s frown deepened. Surprisingly, he hadn’t been thinking of kicking the moron. He looked away, almost embarrassed by his persistence when he knew he couldn’t voice his frustration. But eventually his glare returned to the Marimo. 

He crossed his arms across his chest and tapped his foot insistently, giving Zoro an unamused look. The Mossball just raised his brows in response, like he was egging Sanji to try speak his mind.  

“What? What do you want Cook? I’m not a mind reader.” 

Sanji groaned angrily at this, waving his arms at Zoro, trying to convey this is exactly what Sanji was trying to speak to him about.  

“What? You think I’m a mind reader?” 

Sanji just glared in silence now, pursing his lips further.  

“Is this about dinner? I should have known you’d be fucking weird about it. You order for me all the time, what’s your problem, did you not like your food?” 

Sanji sighed, running a hand through his hair and now deciding it was easier not to look at the Mosshead. He stared stubbornly at one of the lamps hanging off the wall of the inn as he tried to come up with a way to respond.  

“That’s not it...” Zoro grumbled, earning Sanji’s attention again as the Cook whipped around to look at him.  

Zoro studied him properly then, his one good eye analyzing Sanji’s body language from his feet to his face. It was intimidating, almost embarrassing to have Zoro’s eyes so intensely focused on him, inspecting every shift in Sanji’s stance and ever bounce of his brow. 

“Curly, I don’t fucking know what you’re so annoyed about. It’s not my fault you can’t speak.” Zoro sighed, looking tired all of a sudden.  

The first mate’s eyes went to Sanji’s scarf. It wasn’t an item of clothing that was remotely needed given the climate of the island, but Sanji had refused to take it off. He didn’t want his cremates staring at the dark reminder of the bruising around his crushed throat. That part, Zoro could understand. Not wanting to show a clear weakness to a crew that often relied on you. He didn’t know why the Cook was bothering him specially though, forcing him into an awkward standstill outside the inn.  

At this stage, the pair will be forced to room together, something both of them actively avoided and argued against. By now, the rest of the crew would be buried deep beneath rented duvets as they drifted off to sleep. No one would be willing to swap or listen to Zoro complain.  

Sanji sighed loudly in response, looking at Zoro with what he hoped was an exasperated expression. Then, it came to him, the one thing he never needs words for when dealing with Zoro.  

He motioned for Zoro to stand still and then made his way around the oaf. He stopped behind Zoro, facing away from the brute and leaning his back against the others. 

He can feel the muscles in Zoro’s back tense as he leans his weight against him, can hear the sharp intake of breath the Mossball draws in. Sanji raises his leg gently, the same way he would in a fight and on instinct Zoro’s hand goes to his hilts. As Sanji changes his stance and turns slightly to the right, Zoro automatically reacts, dropping a foot back to cover the left side Sanji opens. 

They continue this strange waltz for almost a minute, Sanji almost losing himself in the rhythm as he practices his fight style for the first time since the crews fight several days ago. He pushed himself with a wide arcing kick and as he drew his knee up, he rattles his lungs, forcing an unexpected haggard cough from his throat and ruining his balance as he flinched from the pain of it.   

He sways dangerously to the side, his shoulder slipping off Zoro’s and for the first time since he was a kid he feels himself falling from his stance. Before he can crumble to the ground, Zoro shifts behind him, twisting half around until a large hand wraps around Sanji’s bicep, steadying him and stopping his fall.  

Sanji blinks owlishly up at the swordsman, holding his breath as he meets a curious but annoyed stare. His face heats up and Sanji hopes the lamp light hides whatever colour is dusting his cheeks. 

Sanji doesn’t rush to fix his stance, instead he lets himself hang by Zoro’s grip and brings a finger up to poke pointedly at Zoro’s chest. This is what I’m talking about, shitty Swordsman. He tries to convey the thought in his eyes, in the way he let himself hang there, unfazed if Zoro was going to drop him. It wouldn’t be out of character for the Mosshead, but he knew Zoro would understand the significance of the moment and wouldn’t do it.  

He was proven right by Zoro grunting and averting his gaze, a faint blush on his cheeks now complimenting Sanji’s own. He tugged at Sanji’s arm and eventually pulled the Cook to stand upright again, dropping his arm like it burned.  

“Cook.” Zoro sighed tiredly, wiping a hand over his face and pushing his knuckles against his eyelids in the hope of focusing his mind a bit. “Are you freaking out because I can read you like an open book?” 

Sanji snorted at the phrase, crossing his arms tightly across his chest in distress. Zoro could not read him like a book, Sanji was not that straight forward a man. Zoro clearly was just...just...fuck, what was Zoro doing? 

“Curly, you’re not fucking subtle. You express every little emotion in that frantic head of yours the second you think or feel anything.” 

Sanji scoffs in disagreement, his eyes narrowing at Zoro’s words as he fiddles uncomfortably with a thread on his suit’s sleeve. The Swordsman was talking nonsense. 

“Like right now, you act like you don’t believe a word I’m saying but you’re ripping your sleeve apart because you know I’m right and that makes you freak out and fidget with the nearest thing possible.” 

Zoro takes a step closer to Sanji then. His words force Sanji to drop his sleeve and rest his hands by his side, his fingers twitching at the loss. He glares up at the ever so slightly taller man and meet’s his eye without hesitation. Their chests are almost touching, their foreheads inches from one another and Sanji is swallowing every bit of panic swelling in his chest because if he backs down from Zoro now, then it’s going to seem like Zoro is right. 

Which he’s not. He’s not freaking out over what Zoro is saying. There’s no way it’s true, Sanji may have his heart on his sleeve for the ladies but otherwise he’s a secretive guy. He’s hidden his upbringing from the crew, hiding his surname from the entire world, fooling even those who print the bounty posters. He’d lied effortlessly in the past, getting the crew out of some tough spots. Sanji was clever, he could be sly, secretive, a mystery.  

No one knew what was going on in his head. They might think they do but no one could guess what he was really thinking most of the time. Except apparently, Zoro could. Zoro who hated Sanji most days and who he had thought only understood him when Sanji’s shoe was buried in the side of his head.  

“You can deny it all you’d like, Sanji.” Sanji choked on his own spit, coughing brutally as Zoro just grinned, leaning in closer as he reveled in catching the Cook further off guard. 

“But I see you. I see right through the bullshit.”  

With that, Zoro flashed him a chesire grin, ruffled a hand through Sanji’s hair and brushed past the red-faced cook without another glance.  

“Don’t wake me up when you come into the room, or I’ll skewer you.” 

The sound of the inn door opening and closing echoed through the empty street. Sanji stayed standing in the center of the cobblestone lane, trying to catch his breath after his mini coughing fit and doing his best to will the flush from his face.  

Maybe he could blame that part on the alcohol.  

I see you.  

Sanji groaned, grabbing a fistful of his hair as he doubled over on the street. What the fuck did that mean? Also, using his real name like that? The bastard had to have known that would get to him.  

What an asshole. There’s no way Zoro was intelligent enough to understand a fraction of how Sanji felt or thought about things. He was just getting lucky and using the coincidence to rile the cook up. You can deny it all you’d like- That fucking smug- Sanji wished he could scream at the twinkling stars above. 

Sanji spent far too long loitering in the street before he could force himself to march into the inn and face sharing a room with the guy. Hopefully, he was asleep by now, and Sanji knew for a fact he’d be gone long before the oaf woke up in the morning.  

He decided the next time he was willing to face the Swordsman, was when he could speak again. Then he could give the asshole a piece of his mind, put the brute in his place and let him know just how wrong he was about everything.  

That, or he could just smother him in his sleep.  

That would be easier than admitting to himself that his entire perception of the brute had been flipped on its head tonight.  

[neverendingford]

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[lovebugism]

What if reader's friends convince her to go on a date with another guy, and this guy is an absolute jerk? I think reader would call Eddie and ask her to come pick her up - why is every guy an asshole? Except Eddie of course 🖤

ty for requesting :D — grumpy!eddie rescues you from a bad date then offers to take you on a better one (friends to lovers, hurt/comfort ish | 1k)

bug's summer fic fest (⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

The sunset matches the color of your Slurpee. A fiery red and orange hue, like the mango and strawberry concoction in your cup. You sip from the plastic straw and pretend to taste the sky in your mouth — pretending not to notice the pounding bass of Eddie’s van as he peals into the parking lot. 

You sit on the curb and keep your eyes trained on the cracked pavement under your feet. All cool. Like you hadn’t called him for help at all.

“You could’ve been more specific about where you were, you know?” Eddie shouts, punctuating his question with the slam of the car door. His worn sneakers scuff the concrete with each of his rushed strides. You’d almost think he was actually worried about you.

“I told you I was at the payphone by the Seven-Eleven,” you shrug, tilting your chin to look up at the boy when he stands ahead of you.

“There’s four of those,” he argues, with his lanky figure looming over you. He pushes his leather jacket off his sides (which he wears in spite of the summer heat) to put his hands on his hips. “Seriously. I counted ‘em all in the half hour it took me to find you.”

You squint up at him, hardly apologetic after the shit day you’ve had. “Well, sorry for not being more clear,” you spit in a cynical monotone.

“Apology accepted,” Eddie shrugs. He huffs and sits on the curb next to you while you slurp audibly at the slushie in your fist. He leans over to knock your shoulders with his. “What happened?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Figured… Can I have some, at least?”

He’s only partly surprised when you hand over the drink without protest. He takes it in his ringed fist, looks inside to observe its content, then sips at the red straw (trying to ignore the nagging thought that your lips have been where his are now). The strawberry-mango mixture melts quickly on his tongue, foreign and sweet. “’S nice.”

You scoff like you’re owed the compliment. “Right? I let Josh try some earlier, and he said it tasted like shit. I was like, you know what, this is my final fucking straw.”

Eddie’s face screws. He wipes dramatically at his mouth with the back of his hand, hopelessly trying to erase the other asshole’s DNA. “Are you serious?” he mumbles, all annoyed ‘cause you hadn’t thought to warn him beforehand. You don’t seem to understand his meaning, though, as you shrug lazily in response.

“Well, him trying to feel me up in his car was my actual final straw. But then he hated my all-time favorite Slurpee, and I didn’t even want to look at him anymore. I just told him to leave me here.”

The only thing Eddie hates more than putting his mouth where Josh’s has been — other than the thought of Josh taking you on a date at all — is the idea of Josh not treating you right. His chest burns with a withheld rage.

“Are you talking about fucking Josh O.?” he scoffs and passes the styrofoam cup back to you. “Like, the moron from Mr. Mundy’s, Josh O.? That’s who Steve set you up with?”

“Unfortunately,” you grumble and take another sip, more casual about the subtle spit-swapping than the boy beside you had been.

“He was basically setting you up for failure, then. You know that, right?”

“I just wanted a free meal,” you confess quietly.

Eddie squints. His eyes flit from your profile, to your fidgeting hand punching holes in the ice with your straw, and back to your profile again. “Well, did you get one?”

“Yep. We split one burger at the diner.”

A laugh sputters from his pink mouth.

Your head whips to glare at him. “It’s not funny.”

Eddie props his elbow on his knee to hide his smile behind his ringed hand. “I mean… It kinda is, though. ‘Cause even I could buy two meals for us, and I’m basically the brokest fucker in this town.”

“Are you offering?”

His brows pinch. “Offering what?”

“To buy me a burger,” you say in a mousy voice, pretending to be innocent as you peer at him beneath your lashes, all doe-eyed.

“What?” Eddie scoffs through the sparkling in his chest. As a self-proclaimed metalhead, there was absolutely nothing metal about confessing to stupid crushes. “No.”

“Well, it sounds a lot like you’re offering,” you tease before wrapping your lips around the straw of your drink.

“Well, this sounds a lot like talking for someone who doesn’t wanna talk about it,” he mocks.

Your eyes narrow in annoyance. You part from your Slurpee and mumble through the ice on your tongue. “I wasted my quarters on you,” you deadpan.

Eddie rolls his eyes. He rises from the curb with a huff, wincing at the distant ache in his long legs. “C’mon, weirdo. Let’s go,” he urges, towering over you again.

You shake your head, gaze averted, suddenly shy. “I’m okay here.”

“Let’s go.”

“I’m serious, Eds. I don’t feel like going home right now—”

“I’m not taking you home,” he scoffs like it’s obvious. Your eyes flit back to his, suddenly hopeful again, and he tries not to cower. “I’m taking you to the diner. So I can get you a real meal.”

You seem particularly moved by the uncharacteristic act of kindness. “Really?”

“Yes, really— I don’t want you to starve to death,” he grouses, feigning annoyance ‘cause it’s easier than facing his real feelings in the face. “Now, let’s go before I change my mind.”

He walks off ahead of you on long legs, leaving you behind to catch up. But, because he isn’t a total asshole, he opens the squeaking passenger side door for you.

“Can I get a milkshake, too?” you wonder with a scrunched nose, helping yourself onto the cracked pleather seat.

“Don’t push it,” Eddie squints. He goes to shut the door, then catches the pretty pout pinching your features. “Fine,” he groans before slamming it shut.

[moonstruckme]

hi lovely I was wondering if you could do a fic about a touch starved reader where she’s just really needy and wants to be held but is nervous to ask? and it’s just very fluffy and sweet, thank you so much!!

Hi sweetheart, thanks for requesting!

modern au

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Sirius is cozied up between James’ legs on the couch, tuned into his phone while James watches the football match on TV, and you’re oozing a jealousy so tender it hurts. 

It’s silly, but you can’t help thinking about how warm they must both be. James has one of his forearms draped over Sirius’ chest, their hands linked casually. Sirius’ bony, pale fingers intertwined with James’ thicker ones. They look comfortable and at ease with each other in a way that feels so out of reach. You wish you could join them, but they look too happy like this. You couldn’t ask them to move. 

“Dove?” 

You blink, focussing back on Remus. “Sorry?” 

“I asked how your meeting went.” A bit of concern digs into the space between his brows as he continues stirring the pot of soup on the stove. You give him a little smile, and it melts away. 

“Oh, not bad at all.” Today you had your first team meeting at your new job. You’d been nervous leading up to it, worried your boss would ask you to introduce yourself or present something, but it had blown over smoothly. “I was stressed for nothing, I didn’t even have to talk.” 

“Mm, good for you.” Your boyfriend gives you a knowing look, well aware that your shyness can sometimes get in the way of you sharing your ideas. “I’m glad it went well. I hope you start to feel comfortable enough to talk soon, though.” 

“Maybe,” you say agreeably, moving closer to him so you can rest the side of your head on his bicep. It’s an awkward sort of lean, but the most you’ll allow yourself. 

You can sense Remus’ confusion even without him making a sound. You know that if you pulled back to look, you’d find a familiar little indent hovering above his nose. “Tired?” he asks. 

Your heart gives a pitiful throb. Remus isn’t the most tactile of your boyfriends, but it would take so little for him to reach up with his free hand, wrap it around your shoulders. That’s all you want.

“No,” you reply, though you do sound tired, voice soft and breathy, “just love you.” 

“Sweetheart.” His voice is sticky with affection, and your heart balloons with hope. You feel his arm shift underneath you. His hand comes up to hold your cheek, keeping you steady while he presses a brief kiss to the top of your head. The hand falls away. “I love you too.” 

It feels ungrateful and a bit traitorous to feel so dejected after hearing those words, but you do. You leave your head where it is, heavy with a loneliness that’s completely invalid, while Remus continues stirring the soup, humming now. 

“Look at them.” Sirius’ voice gets your attention from the living room, dripping with faux rancor. He’s glowering at you over the top of the couch. James begrudgingly turns from the match to look at him, half curious what he’s on about. “They’re being all ooey gooey in the kitchen without us, can you believe it?” 

You sort of want to laugh at the irony. 

“You were given the opportunity to join,” Remus reminds him mildly. “I said I needed help chopping, and only y/n came to my aid.” 

“Yes, well I didn’t know there’d be declarations of love involved,” says Sirius, never one to be made to feel guilty. 

James, on the other hand, looks a tad penitent. 

“I didn’t hear you,” he says helplessly, climbing out from under Sirius. “Do you still need an extra pair of hands?”

“No, almost done now,” Remus says, but James comes anyway. He peers over Remus’ other shoulder, pecking him apologetically on the cheek. 

“Smells great,” he notes appreciatively. He leans across Remus to see your face, grinning in that way of his that makes it seem like someone’s brought the sun inside. “Thanks for taking up the mantle.” 

You make a quiet sound of amusement, and James’ smile fades. You hate yourself for doing it to him, even though it wasn’t intentional.

“You alright, lovie?” He scrutinizes your expression. You’re reminded that James is often more perceptive than you give him credit for. “You look a bit sad.” 

“No, I’m good.” You give him a smile. Remus’ shoulder shifts under your head as he looks down, trying to see you. 

James appears unconvinced. He moves behind Remus, over to where you stand. “Hug?” he offers. 

God, you feel like you could cry. That wouldn’t be good.

“Sure,” you say, as if it isn’t the deepest, most desperate desire of your heart. 

You turn into his arms, and he wastes no time in enveloping you. James gives the best hugs. Somehow, intuitively, he always knows just the amount of pressure you need, when to squeeze your back and when to rub it, exactly the right time to let go. It feels like he’s pouring love into you through his touch. He sets his chin on top of your head, and you swallow a happy sigh. 

“I can tell something’s bothering you,” he says quietly. He sweeps a hand up and down your spine, and you shiver, pressing your palms into his back. He does it again. “Talk to me, angel.” 

“I’m good,” you promise him. It’s a lot more truthful now. 

Still, you can feel James’ dissatisfaction. He cups the back of your neck, thumb brushing the baby hairs at your nape. “Anything I can do?” 

You clutch him to you, the fabric of his sweatshirt bunching in your hands. It smells like laundry detergent. “Just this, please.” 

“Aww,” Sirius croons, and it’s not until then that you realize the other two boys have been silent. Probably worried about you. You feel instantly sheepish. “I get it. You just wanted some love, didn’t you babydoll?” You look at him over James' shoulder, and predictably, he’s insufferably smug. He sees you watching and pats the top of the couch invitingly. “Come here, sweet thing, let me fix you up.” 

“I think I’m doing just fine,” James teases, but his grip loosens, one hand remaining on the small of your back as he walks you over to the couch. 

“Yeah, but we can share.” Sirius rolls his eyes. He grabs for you the second you’re close enough, hauling you up against him while James flops down on your other side. “What game are you playing, standing over there and looking all forlorn?” he asks you, peppering your cheek with kisses. A startled giggle spurts out of you, but he remains completely serious. “If you wanted a cuddle, all you had to do was ask.”

“It seemed dramatic,” you admit, though now that Sirius has got your face squished in his hand and James’ arm is draped around your shoulder, your silence feels a bit dramatic too. “And kind of needy.” 

“Babe.” Sirius is heartbroken, pulling back to give you a horrified look. “Being needy is my thing. I hardly think asking for a hug could challenge my hard-earned reputation.”

“You’re not needy,” you say warmly, but Sirius only rolls his eyes as if you’re being difficult.

“Anyway, wanting a hug is hardly needy,” James chimes in. “I’m always happy to give you one.” 

“Same here,” Remus says from the kitchen, sounding a bit apologetic. “Though I wish you would have asked, dove. I can’t read minds like Jamie can.” 

Your chest tightens guiltily. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” he says easily. “Listen, dinner’s almost done, but want to put on a film to watch while we eat? I could make it up to you with a cuddle.” 

“That sounds great,” you reply thankfully, and James grabs the remote to begin going through the movies while Sirius gets comfy against the side of the couch. He lifts your legs to drape them over his. 

“Good luck getting you away from me,” he murmurs conspiratorially. James chuckles, arm a welcome weight around your shoulders. “I’m not giving you up.” 

It seems like there was room for you after all.

[sheepispink]

A LIGHT THAT NEVER GOES OUT

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Masterlist AO3

pairings: Simon Ghost Riley/ Reader (platonic or romantic, up to you)

tags: probably loads of military inaccuracies, anxiety attacks (possibly?), heavy angst, angst and comfort, paranoia, bad mental health, cuddling and literal sleeping together (up to you romantic or platonic)

A/N: I’d appreciate if no one complained abt the accuract/realistic of the story (ofc if its the characterisation of ghost that’s perfectly ok!) i’m open for criticisation for how i write etc etc but this is a sensitive topic and.. based off personal experiences 😅😅 so it’s very realistic to me even if its not to you!

This technically takes place after this fic but it’s not a big deal in which the order you read it

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You’re an introvert, even if you do get excited really quickly, loud around people you’ve known for a while and love meeting new people. Yet still, you call yourself an introvert, even if that technically still makes you an extroverted introvert. You don't like the sound of an extrovert— someone who thrives off of others' attention and loves to be the center of it, who brightens their days with their friends and always wants to make plans with anyone and everyone. You like the attention sometimes; when Price mentions your name in a conversation, praising your skills, your heart thumps a little louder. Being at the limelight of the party isn't always the worst thing either, especially when everyone laughs at your jokes so hard they double over, grinning so wide you can't help it either. You love your friends, your teammates, even the random soldiers you’ve only exchanged small greetings with. The love for others is held tight in your heart’s vessels, bursting each and every time they make you smile or you just see their presence. You feel so warm and alive when you give them a grin in the mornings, even more so when they seek out your presence throughout the day.

Though, that only applies sometimes— never always.

A familiar soldier could ask you out to lunch and yet your chest begins to twist uncomfortably, like someone is wringing your intestines with their hands. Something screams at you when they say those words, like an invisible line had just been crossed that had been clear in everyone's heads. You had only ever spoken to those soldiers in the gym or around base, there was nowhere else even remotely personal you’d think to take them to. One on one conversations were not common either, since it wasnt that often. It’s not that you don't like them, it’s just.. not right. You’d shake your head apologetically as you force an excuse between your teeth. The regret you then express is a lie, along with the love you felt before— only reduced to a being who could never hold any of those things.

The truth is, you have a sick little parasite in you, it claws at that heart muscle, tearing away the flesh and devouring any love you feel for the people you care about and replacing it with an empty feeling which is always followed by an unreasonable hatred. Your mind grows dark, headaches permanent, as you live through the day as a skeleton of yourself— no longer able to hold any love within you as it slips past your bones in seconds. You don't like the boundaries you’ve mentally set for each person to be crossed, even if it’s a perfectly normal task. In fact, some may even say you’re scared of change. You don’t like to put a label on these things, hell you don't even like to think too hard on these things. It begins to make sense when you sit and reflect, piecing all the reasons for your behaviour together until you hit the final point. Soon you’re done, finally aware of the most significant reasoning behind your antics. The only issue is, being self aware doesn't mean you get any better; no matter how many nights you sit and stare at that mirror, nothing changes.

The only thing you gained was the ability to squash down the parasite from prying eyes. Excuses fall from your lips quickly, no matter how bad you feel when they give you that look of disappointment. It’s not your fault— you know you won't be able to handle an outing like that, you’d get too worked up. Why? You don't need to dwell on it, not right now. This continues for multiple people, multiple soldiers for two weeks, until you're ‘normal’ and you hang around others again. People begin to subconsciously catch on and so your little routine continues to carry on moving so well, staying right on track.

“Sarge? You aint comin’ to team night? Why?”

Ghost stands at the door of your quarters, dressed in his typical training attire whilst you’re sitting in something cozy, made for home wear. You have to fight the urge to cover yourself up. “Oh right.. i, uh..yknow, lot of paperwork to do. Thought i’d stay in.”

You say with a small smile, attempting to ease any concerns he had before but little did you know, he was already growing aware of your little issue, or at least the fact there was one within you. “Paperwork? On a Friday? You should be relaxin’.” You grit your teeth a little, the burning urge inside of your chest returning just like the sick pit in your stomach. It felt so awful fearing just a simple team night out, but it was just so late and you were so tired— you didnt have the energy to be rational the whole time, to think of your next move constantly.

“It’s not a big deal. I’ll come to the next one.” You shrug, turning back to your small desk as you pull another small stack of papers in front of you. His boots thump loudly against the floorboards, sounding like the heavy thump of your heart in your ears. It stops, suddenly, behind your back and your body stiffens as he leans down, looking at the paperwork you’re going through. It’s a lie— naturally, you finished it all. He doesn't even have to stare at you first nor visibly raise a brow; you’re already waiting for him to call out your bluff just as quickly.

“You can just say you want some time alone, yknow.” That catches you off guard, half expecting him to just tell you to stop whining and grab some drinks. His words were still difficult though, how could you easily just say that? Of course, the words itself aren't the hard part, nor speaking it—it’s the implications behind said words. An excuse means you have other things to occupy you, so no one dares to disturb you much after that, however explaining you want some alone time gives way to more questions. Specifically the first being: why? Then they begin to wonder if you’ve been doing okay recently or if you’re struggling with something. You dont like the idea of that at all— people thinking about you in that way. It feels weird, almost like it’s wrong. Sometimes you wished people would just not care, and leave you alone to wallow with yourself.

“Sarge?” You snap out of it, sheepishly scratching the back of your head as he still stands behind you and you turn in your chair, putting the best meek face you can on for the night. “What? No, that’s not why I declined. I’m not really feeling any alcohol today and a new episode of a series I previously binged on the weekend just came out. Sorry.. didn't want to make it seem i was ditching anyone for a show.” Perfect, an awkward grin had tied it all off into a well constructed excuse. Even if it was partially true and this really wasn't fake, it sure felt like everything you did was an act. After all, you really didn't want them to think you were ditching anyone, and you didn't feel like having any alcohol tonight. “A new series” He says gruffly, and you nod with a tight smile, teeth gritting so hard you’re sure they’ll break in a few seconds. “I’ll join you then.”

You blink once, twice, three times in pure utter confusion. Ghost—The Ghost, whose name is rumoured across the battlefield and known for never giving into idle small talk—wants to watch the series you lied about, with you.

You’ve never felt more guilty in your entire life, practically fumbling for a solution. You could just tell the truth, say no and admit you needed to be alone. But this is the first time he’s ever expressed wanting to hang around you, actually together and alone— and miss out on a team night?! He may just want an excuse out of it, but still, you can't just say no now. “Well yeah, i just..” You hate how there’s no easy way out of this in the slightest, torn between saving your own mental health or finally getting close to the teammate who you’ve been on eggshells around for nearly a year now. “My room’s not exactly clean--“

He cuts you off with a gruff, shake of his head, a scoff resounding in his next words, promptly embarrassing you too. “There ya go— knew you wanted to be alone.”

You fumble, not understanding how he managed to pry it out of you so fast, just a simple lie blowing your cover. “I said it wasn't like-“

“See you tomorrow.” He’s gone just as fast as he silenced you, heavy footsteps disappearing out of your door and down the corridors. What you couldn't wrap your head around is how fast he had figured it out and made you confess to your lies that fast— it was a real problem, something you couldn't just let slide. If he knew, did others too?

Unfortunately for you, the very much needed alone time didn’t help as well as it usually did considering this new information has threatened everything that made up the core of your very being—specifically everything keeping you glued together. You just couldn't sit there and possibly relax like you usually did when alone (more specifically think over everything you’ve done wrong until you quite literally fell asleep mid thought)— not when Ghost could clearly read everything you had ever thought about in your life.

That being said, you’ve been a nervous wreck all week, concentrating so hard on looking sane that you’ve barely paid a second of attention to things you should’ve listened to. It’s not like you slipped up regularly, but before that day you were already feeling pretty uneasy and now with still no relief and the added stress, you feel like you really might lose it any second now. Every time you see him, every word exchanged with your teammates—with another person—it eats at you, tugging further on the ropes you’re hanging onto. They’re already been pulled thin, especially since you’ve been put in charge of a group of rookies for the past few weeks now. Of course, you had pulled the short straw when assignments went round because not only did your group love to talk back, but they loved to test every limit by asking the most stupid of questions possible. It’s the second time now you’ve had to lecture one of the rookies about why you can’t just ‘throw a grenade at the enemies’. It’s only temporary, just basic training exercises and medical procedures they need to know until the Officer, who usually oversees them, returns from their sick leave.

You let out a long breath as you enter the small break room, also known as taskforce 141’s meeting room but they’ve let you lounge in here too many times to count. It’s quiet in here, Soap and Gaz both on missions and you assume Ghost must be too. It’s the first time you’ve been able to relax all week, knowing damn well Price is down in London with Gaz. Your shoulders sag, the miserable look returning to cover your features now that you don't need to pull that tight smile anymore. Your chest physically aches from how anxious you’ve been all day, the weight of the day’s mistakes and fears of the future swelling deep in your gut. You know it’s a Friday, know you should just take a long sleep but you can’t help but think about all you have to do for the days to follow. You’re busy the whole day tomorrow, a team outing you can’t deny no matter how much you really do not want to go. Just thinking of all the final work you’ll have to cram in on Sunday makes a splitting pain run along the bumps in your brain. Even your breaths begin to feel shorter, an uncomfortable feeling that you just still cant rid of no matter how long you take deep breaths. Your eyes are weighed down with exhaustion and yet your brain refuses to let you sleep yet. No, you cannot. If you sleep the night away then you’ll only have Sunday left for yourself, and that won't work out, will it?

You pick up the mug you had just stirred, hoping the drink would soothe at least something if not your dehydrated body. Taking a small sip, the hot liquid spills down your throat, leaving a warm feeling in your ribs. “Alone by choice or force?” A gruff voice rings out behind you, along with an arm reaching around to supposedly grab a teabag as well, is enough to make you flinch. Stumbling on your own feet, your mug jolts and the steaming water splashes against your shoulder. If you were worried about someone catching you so vulnerable before, you were certainly terrified now, especially since your skin was burning from a small startle.

“Fuck— sorry—“

Ghost’s gloved hand settle on one side of your waist while the other quickly takes the mug from your hands and places it upon the counter. You cant respond, barely processing the situation and everything just feels like too much and your skin feels so hot, you know he’s seeing you fall apart and still there’s nothing you can do—

Your thoughts snap to a blank when he presses the cold rag against your burning skin. Thankfully the layers of the training uniform stops any severe marks from forming. His other hand rubs your cheek, his mask so close it could brush your face, and you can actually see every speck of brown in his irises. You can't look at him for long though, moving your gaze away quickly, not when you know what you’ve done. For the past week or two you’ve hated him, painting the most horrible picture in your mind. It wasnt even on purpose, you’ve just started seeing everything wrong about him. He doesnt give the rookies much mercy, nor does he particularly entertain any of Soap’s antics even when the situation is pretty lax. He’s boring, he seems to care about nothing but himself somedays, he refuses to let you do something stupid and he never takes that damn mask off even when you’re all supposed to trust one another. You’ve lied to him, yes, forgetting about your hatred when he made you laugh with those gruff remarks. But he’s not the only one— no, you’ve began to hate everyone in this task force, picking at them and every little thing. It’s weird, you don't want to victimize yourself, because you know you’ve done just as much wrong too. But still, somedays you really can't look past the list of things you dislike about your own friends.

“Are you alright? I havent seen you all week.”

Of course he hasn't, you’ve been avoiding them all. It’s nearly impossible to think straight these days and you knew you wouldn’t be able to fake it so naturally, you just stayed away. The more you did it, the better it began to feel. Avoiding them was the solution— you were just the thorn in their side with your tricky mood swings and anxiety always painting them to be the villain. You couldnt just allow this to happen, to destroy them with your issues even if they had no idea about it.

But now, face to face with him, all you feel is unexplainable guilt for everything you’ve done to them— how could you even hate them for a second? His hand is still rubbing at your skin, nudging your face gently upwards just so you’d at least look at him for a second. “Really? The silent treatment now?.” He sighs and you hate yourself, how did you let this spiral to this point— to where he’s apologising to you and yet you wish you could just disappear. Isnt this what you wanted? For everyone to be kind to you? So why are you running— why do you refuse care?

Your lips press together as your teeth bite down on the soft flesh, torn from how much you’ve picked at the skin the whole week. It aches with anxiety, and your teeth hurt from how often you’ve clenched them so hard they scraped against eachother. The only thing you can do is stand there as Ghost fusses over you, trying to get you to move a damn muscle instead of falling apart silently like some kind of broken watch, unable to move forward or backwards. Just still.

“Sarge— snap out of it, look, I'm sorry. Okay?”

His hands are still on you, and you’ve begged for a day where someone would care this much about you and still, you step back, almost afraid. “I’m sorry, Ghost.” You croak out, your hands reaching up to your eyes as you wipe at your skin obsessively, trying to hide and stop anything from leaking. “Why’re you apologising?” He says gruffly, confused by all of this, this sudden onslaught of emotion.

He’s not stupid, he had a feeling you weren't quite yourself this week. Stupidly, he figured you’d just deal with it on your own. That's what everyone did, right? He knows he just takes a breather when he feels a little rough— even Price had his own battles. Comfort isn't a strong point for Ghost, not even when he was Simon Riley, never has and he never thinks it will be. He’s born and bred on violence and the coldness that comes after it, the lack of warmth even as hot blood trickles and emptiness consumes the space where his fellow soldiers should be. So watching you crumble right before him, apologising profusely while your body wracks with shaken breaths, makes something stop in him too. He doesn't know how he’ll do it, but he knows damn well no one fights alone anymore.

“Look at me.”

He says firmly, both his hands landing firmly on your shoulders, one hand even tempted to just force your chin up but you shake your head profusely. “Why not?” He stays patient for you, even if he knows he may have to force you soon— its the least he can do for you. “I cant look at you. Not after everything i did.” He pauses, hands now settling on your jaw in confusion, he knows this is moving towards an interrogation but he has to know. “What are you talking about?! What did you do?”

“I hated all of you! I avoided you all and destroyed our relationship, i fucked it all up.”

With that he cant stand to see this continue, a gloved hand firmly planted over your mouth as the other wraps around your back. He leads you to the couch even as you squirm, not caring in the slightest. He knows he has strength and not comfort, so he’ll use it to shut you up whilst the truth comforts you instead.

“Look at me.” He says sternly and you do, eyes snapping up with wide fear as you look at him. “That’s not true— okay? None of us consider our relationship with you ruined, not one of us has even mentioned you in a bad light at all.” He makes sure your whole body is pressed against the back of the couch, considering that you didnt particularly look as if you could hold yourself up right now.

“Soap has only talked to me about you once recently— he told me you helped him organize the training schedules for the rookies. Told me to thank you for it because he felt he did not express his gratitude enough. Do you understand now? No one’s mad at you– not one of us have even considered anything to have gone wrong.”

His hand grabs your own, settling it on the center of his chest so you can feel the pattern of his breathing, silently praying you’d try and match it. You can only blink at him though, slowly processing his words with each passing second until his hand leaves your mouth and your lips part, breath hitched before you swallow a sharp breath. “I’ve avoided all of you– i’ve been hating all of you.” You choke out, chest clenching with regret and the weight of unreasonable guilt and his other hand moves to hold your face again, his brown eyes piercing into yours with his silence.

“What is like to hate someone?”

“What?”?

“What is it like to hate someone?” He repeats, his thumb pressing gently into the curve of your cheek.

“I-...” You falter, thinking for a moment before your lips part again. “I dont like things that they do— the way they act and everything about them.”

“You’d avoid them too, right? Like that general you hated. Remember when he touched you and you pushed his hand away?

You nod along in agreement, breathing a bit slower to hopefully ease the pressure on your chest at the moment.

“Y-yeah.. i’d express my dislike clearly..”

“So why did you never push me away the past few weeks? You said you avoided us, but you would always speak to us if we needed to. You still helped Soap too.”

You pause, blinking at him in confusion now, you had convinced yourself that you hated them so why did you never.. actually express it?

“You’re also letting me touch you now and last week you didn't want to hang out with us, but you didnt want to hurt our feelings by saying that.”

You’re left silent, baffled and confused because in your head, you were being horrible to them, hating their guts like it was nothing.

“I think… whatever is going on in that head of yours.” He says slowly, tapping at your forehead gently as you look up at him with widened eyes. “You’ve held it in for too long. You’ve dwelled on those thoughts, so self aware of your own anxieties that you’ve distorted reality. You think you’ve done something bad, because you can't understand why you always feel so bad.” His voice is softer than usual, even if his words are still gruff and holds his thick Manchester accent.

Somehow that alone reminds you that Simon has never lied, not even once, to you. That stern voice of his is straightforward, doesnt mess around and forces his way through any problem. Just like he had just pushed himself to the root of your mind and destroyed your seeds of doubt.

“You’re allowed to talk to us you know. I have a funny feeling you’re scared o’ somethin’. Not sure what just yet.”

He doesnt force you to respond, just speaking his thoughts even if that’s what you usually do when you’re together. The couch creaks as he stand up, pulling you to get up aswell beside him. He places a hand on the crook of your back, gently encouraging you to begin walking towards the door. “Cmon, back to my room. Lets get you cleaned up properly.”

Before you know it, you’re sitting against the headboard of his bed, something you had only felt months ago when you first came here, scared and confused over a stupid hornet. You trusted him to help you then, but you dont understand why you suddenly felt that fear again. Meanwhile, your shirt is half off, Ghost sat on the bed beside you as he inspects the burns on your chest from the tea. It’s harsh, the skin reddened but not enough to be something serious thankfully. He presses a cool towel against it, soothing the stinging skin but he knows it’ll fade out soon enough. You’re wearing his old shirt, and he gave you some comfortable sweatpants too for good measure. You just watch all his moves so quietly, feeling like a ghost yourself in this moment from how detached you are. It’s weird, feeling so much yet nothing at the same time.

“Nothing too bad, should be alright by the morning.” He hums, lifting the fresh mug of tea he brewed for you and brings it to your lips for you to sip before he steals some for himself. “Is your chest still tight?” You blink, not expecting him to ask that of all things because you hadnt exactly mentioned that part and yes, it was. “How did you know..?” Your hand reaches out, silently asking for more of the tea he graciously lets you sip, unable to fathom how he brews it so perfectly each time. “You were clutching at your chest before and your breaths are a little shorter than they should be.” He’s seen straight through you again so you slump your shoulders and just nod quietly. “Yeah, it’s really tight. It’s always like this and i dont know how to make it stop.”

His gloved hand reaches out, gently rubbing at your chest thus making you sink a little back into the pillows. Before he can respond, you speak up with a quiet confession. “That day, when you came ‘round, I was upset. You said you wanted to watch the series with me and I felt so bad. I didn't want to give up my only chance of spending time with you, but I knew my head couldn't take it.”

He nods along quietly, letting you reveal it all to him. “T-then you figured me all out and i got scared— i didnt want someone to know everything about me because i didnt want to be a problem. I want someone to listen but i dont want to be seen as something different. I just.. i dont know how to handle all of this. I dont feel like the person i am when i look in the mirror.”

The strangest thing of all is that it didnt actually take you long to figure it out. You knew all along, of course, but when you’re fighting against yourself, you’re supporting both sides and so a part of you decided not to dwell on a certain bit of information too much. The reason for that to be pushed aside is no part of you wanted to face it.

Your heart always secretly wished someone would find out— that someone would push past the walls you’ve banged so hard against even if they were crafted by the webs of your brain. You prayed and prayed that they’d read through it all, express their concern and one day, one day you’d be saved from this hellish feeling. It was a common daydream for you and yet you were terrified of it. If someone knew, there was no guarantee they’d follow the fantasy. They could ridicule you, or they couldnt be able to comfort you at all, maybe they’d try and it wouldnt even do anything or maybe, just maybe— they wouldnt give a damn about it. What happened then? If that daydream was real, and that was the final outcome, there was no turning back in time. It seemed like only one person would ever figure you out, after all, no one had up until this point.

But then Simon became aware, and you got terrified. You hid away because you were too scared to know his reaction to your problems, even more so his reaction to you. You wanted someone to help, you really did, and yet your brain feared to know the uncertain future of it.

His ungloved hands card through your hair, the callouses gentle against your scalp as he slowly scratches at it. “You need to speak with us, and the others. Your feelings are real— hell, we all have our doubts. I used to feel it before every mission. Soap began to tell me his, then Gaz joined too. Price always looks for a way to solve it, and i give my two pence when i feel i want to. Just cause you feel different, doesnt mean you are. Plenty o’ people felt the same way you did before.”

“Really..? I’m not like.. crazy?”

“No, never. Even if you do some stupid shit sometimes.”

That makes you finally crack a real smile, even if its small and you’re unable to stifle the small chuckle that bubbles in your throat and although he’s the epitome of stoicism, he smiles beneath the mask. “Everyone’s out on a mission, ya can't leave me alone tonight. C’mere.”

You settle yourself in the crook of arm as he lays back against the bed with you, propping up his laptop on his lap as he searches for a good movie.

“You better report back to me everyday this week, alright? I want you here at nine pm sharp, dressed in your pajamas. That’s an order.”

Thinking over all your previous daydreams of how this would eventually go, this was far from how you expected it to be. Firstly, you never expected Ghost, nor it to happen in the military at all. Perhaps you thought maybe later in life it’d occur or maybe Soap or Price would figure it out. Either way, you arent actually upset over it. No one would be your fairy tale saviour in life, coming forward to fight the demons that plagued your head all the time. Even so, the way Ghost had shut you up and calmed you down makes you think he’s pretty damn close to being one, even if knights usually dont scoff at their princess.

He doesnt even look like he’d be willing to give a little kid a hug, but still, you couldnt be happier with how this turned out in the end. Compared to fairytale princes and men in the movies, you knew Ghost and you knew he was serious— so if he wanted to help you, he would. And no, he wouldnt ridicule you throughout the process, nor ever feel like you’ve been misheard. You know that if you spoke to Ghost, he’d listen earnesty and never forget, carrying that around with him even if those anxieties eventually died out.

You knew he’d always linger around, never forgetting you or leaving you behind. Just like a Ghost.

“Okay, i promise i will.”

You say softly, pressing your cheek against the curve of his chest, the faint thump of his heartbeat drowning out any lost thoughts. He was your support, and no matter how bad it got for you, no matter how many times you get overwhelmed and lash out, not even when you avoid everyone— he’d never break away. No, he would always be beside you.

[alovesongtheywrote]

nightmare academia is just so *chefs kiss* i would LOVE another part !!!!

♥ Summary:  here you go :D here's the outcome of spencer's most recent prank- and the reader's well deserved revenge [Prof!Spencer Reid x GN-Prof!Reader]

♥ Warnings: threats of bodily harm

♥ A/N: keep the requests coming, i love writing for these two SO MUCH

♥ Word Count: 1268

Series Masterlist

♥♥♥

Spencer wasn’t surprised when you burst into his classroom, the image of barely contained rage burned into your features.  He was surprised that your voice sounded so sweet when you called out to him.

“Hey, Doctor Reid?  Can I talk to you outside for a second?”

You gave an apologetic look to his students.  It looked genuine.  Still, Reid couldn’t be fooled.  He knew his plan had worked.  Garcia had gotten into your PowerPoint slides.  He was under your skin.  Smirking, he followed you out the door and into the hallway.

The second the door shut behind Reid, you rounded on him with fury in your eyes the likes of which he had never seen.

“You little shit.  I’m gonna fucking stab you in your left butt cheek.  You fucked up my fucking slides.”

Spencer paused before he spoke.  It looked like he was doing his best not to laugh, “You brought this on yourself.”

“Did I?  Did I really bring this on myself?  I gave your students a typewriter to bother you because you were being a dick.  Explain to me how this is appropriate vengeance!”

You didn’t need that explained to you.  Honestly, it was the perfect form of vengeance.  You had targeted his anti-tech tendencies with malicious compliance, and he had attacked your technology in return.  It was perfect.  You couldn’t let him know you thought that, though- and there was something else about the prank that stood out to you.

Spencer hated technology.  By his own admission, he could barely send an email without losing his mind.  It made you wonder- if he hated technology so much, then how had he hacked your slides?

“Look, you’re the one who decided to bother an MIT graduate.  I don’t know if you know this, but we have a history of going nuclear.”

“Oh, you’re proud of that one, aren’t you?” you hissed, “How long did it take you to come up with it?  Twenty minutes?  Thirty?”

Reid blushed, and you knew you’d struck some sort of nerve.  You decided to press down harder, “Y’know, I doubt that it was just your MIT-grad-ass conspiring on this little project.  Who helped you, Reid?  Was it Evans?  Peters?”  

You kept listing librarians and comp sci profs, but his facial expression never changed.  You were heading in the wrong direction.

You stopped, falling silent so you could think for a moment.  Reid moved to fill the silence, but you shushed him, holding a hand up to stop him in his place.  You thought back to the search you’d done on Reid.  His team had a technical analyst- she’d seemed cool, but was she cool enough for this?

After a while, you turned back to Reid.  Raising an eyebrow, you asked, “Did you get your FBI girl to break into my PowerPoint slides?”

He stuttered, face taking on a pink hue as he tried to find some sort of excuse or distraction- it was too late, though.  You already had your answer.  

“Holy shit!  You got your FBI girl to break into my PowerPoint slides!”

“Wait, no, I-!”

A massive grin broke across your face, “Oh, fuck.  I must really bother you if you called the fucking Feds on me!  Jesus Christ.  How often am I on your mind?”

“You’re not- you’re never on my mind,” Reid’s face was bright red now.  His arms were drawn across his chest protectively.  You almost felt bad- but not quite.  

“Y’know,” you snorted out a laugh, “I’ll be honest, I’m impressed.  This took work.  It took planning.  Patience.  And I mean, it’s a good PowerPoint to boot, so…”

“I- thank you?  I-” Reid’s stuttering made it very clear that you had broken his brain.

“No problem, sunshine.  Anyway, since you made such a good presentation, and you worked so hard to get my attention by putting it where I would see it-”

“I don’t want your attention!”

You spoke over him, “I’m gonna let you off easy- on one condition.”

He looked at you with wide eyes, and at that moment, it didn’t matter that he was a million inches taller than you.  You had the high ground.  You relished it.

“Are my original files safe?”

Without another word, Reid nodded.  Another massive grin split your face, “Perfect!  Now I don’t have to stab you in the throat!”

Reid was at a loss for words- and you took advantage of that.

“Unfortunately,” you leaned towards him, “You can’t just go unpunished.”

Spencer shivered at your words.  You didn’t notice.

“Since you made my class such a lovely presentation, why don’t I go and share some fun facts with your students?”

The smile on your face turned fiendish, and before Spencer could even think of moving, you were already in his classroom with the door locked tight behind you.  He could hear your voice through the door, incredibly chill as you addressed his students.

“Hey, kids!  Quick aside,” You sounded so incredibly chill despite the fact that you were full-on hijacking a class.

“Did you guys know that a midsize private jet burns a low estimate of one hundred and ninety-eight gallons of jet fuel per hour at minimum?  Isn’t that neat?”

Spencer fought the internal urge to scream- the urge to bang on the door and demand that you let him back in.  He had a reputation to protect.  He had to come off as composed.  Therefore, he made the professional decision to stand outside, cross his arms, and pray to the science gods that you would come out of that room sooner rather than later.

To his surprise, you did.  You were in and out in the course of five minutes- though it did feel like longer.  As you made your exit, you stretched your arms out in front of you, cracking your knuckles as you did.

“And there we go.  We’re even, now!  My class is educated in the ways of handwritten notes, and yours is educated in the existential horrors of climate change and private jets.”

You gave Reid’s arm a casual pat with the back of your hand.  You moved to pat him again, but you stopped when he flinched.  The smile on your face dimmed slightly.  You didn’t even notice it, but he did.   

The two of you just stood in the hallway for a moment, staring at each other.  You were both still, both quiet.  You could hear his students starting to mumble behind the door.

“You should get back,” your voice was quieter than you wanted it to be, “They’re about to go crazy.”

“No thanks to you.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrugged, “Keep making your students handwrite things and the typewriter will be back to ease things over.”

“Is that a promise?”

Your smile was back to full brightness.  Reid wondered why he preferred it that way.

“Absolutely.”

Despite the fact that his classroom door was wide open, Reid stayed in the hallway.  He watched you leave, the shape of you growing smaller and smaller until you were gone.  When he finally did re-enter the room, all eyes were on him.

“Well,” he clapped his hands together, his lips drawing together in an awkward smile, “Now that that’s over, how about we talk a little about the dark figure of crime?”

His students allowed him to control the lesson without complaint- but he could feel their eyes on him even after the class ended.  Worse than that, he could feel you.  Your eyes were still on him, your words still under his skin.  

He’d get you back for this.  He had to.  He couldn’t let you win.

♥ Tags: @icarusignite

[eggymf-archived]

of paper planes and wildflowers; 01

ft. ominis gaunt with f!reader (series)

chapter warnings: nsfw, semi-public sex, chaotically embarrassing situations,  mild dubcon, aphrodisiac, feeble attempt at ominis slander for plot(?) purposes, not proofread, unedited

chapter summary:  from teenage gossips to formulating random drinks together with your best friend, everything goes completely awry in the most unexpectedly worst way possible. 

word count: 4k

a/n: i wrote this during 1 am in the morning after a mental breakdown lmao what’s good D:

main masterlist || series masterlist || AO3

“That’s the seventh time you sighed in the last five minutes.”

You grumbled in response at Natsai’s observation, dropping your forehead flat on the table with a distinct thud, much to Madam Scribner’s chagrin who harshly shushed you with a matching glare. Natsai gave the said librarian an apologetic look before turning towards you again with concern.

"Probably ‘cause of her mum again, I reckon,” Garreth piped, flipping his book to the next page as he scribbled down on his rolled-out parchment. You shuddered in response, recalling that damned Howler you received from your mother prior this week when she found out you had landed yourself in detention with Garreth again. Your mother expected great academic success from you and for you to behave yourself, especially during this year when you’ll be taking your OWLs.

“I’m sure you’ll do great for your OWLs. Despite the trouble you get yourself into, you always excel in your studies anyway,” Natsai comforted, rubbing your shoulder as you let out yet another sigh. Yes, you were having problems with your mum’s incessant reminder of picking a career path, and yes, you were tremendously feeling pressured about acing your OWLs. But there was another problem:  a huge one in fact - so huge you couldn’t even tell your two close friends about it. 

“I’ll be fine, you two. I just have a lot in my mind lately,” you mumbled, laying your cheek flat on the surface of the table while staring at an empty table from the distance. 

“I’d say. You’ve been on the edge eversince that potions incident,” Garreth pointed out, earning a fairly loud snort from you.

“Which potions incident, Garreth? Last time I checked, you’ve had a total of three incidents this month,” you teased.

“Oh shush. It wasn’t that bad!” the ginger-haired Gryffindor laughed. “I’m talking about that one drink we concocted around two to three weeks ago. The one that you drank?”

Your cheeks slightly pinked at the memory: of course you remember that incident. It was the main reason that has caused you to get stuck in this infernal situation, after all.

“Pretty sure it's not the potion, Garreth. I’m assuming this is just my academic stress finally getting to me,” you dismissively reasoned, thus dropping the subject to concentrate on each of your respective tasks.

You half-expected your 5th year to be like the usual: focusing on your studies, literally brewing mischief and greatness with Garreth, sneaking out of the castle grounds to “practice” your duelling (extracurricular activities, as you’d like to call it) with Natsai occasionally tagging along, and so much more. Aside from the utter chaos that was presently occurring within the wizarding world, who would’ve thought that your life would also end up being in a state of frenzy. 

You shouldn’t have had that particular conversation with Garreth back then. You shouldn’t have drank that damned potion either. But in your defense, you wouldn’t have tried anything weird from the ginger-haired boy unless you actually helped him with the concoction. You’re pretty well-versed with various ingredients, priding yourself to be both book smart and pro-active in collecting various ingredients from the highlands yourself. But alas you were still a student - a silly little student making silly little mistakes. Somewhere along the process of making that certain concoction, you had messed up the calculations of the ingredients’ ratio - something that would prove to be rather grave on your part. 

You and Garreth were hanging out together at the Transfiguration Courtyard after class, the both of you discussing several ingredient combinations as usual. While he scribbled notes on a piece of parchment during the ongoing conversation, you were practicing non-verbal spellcasting for simple charms. However, the conversation took a different turn when you noticed Garreth’s voice slowly faltering as a certain housemate of yours passed by while carrying several thick books. You smirked in realization, calling out the ebony-haired female. Garreth elbowed you harshly, giving you a half-hearted glare. The female turned and smiled towards the both of you in acknowledgment before heading off.

“Blimey, Garreth. Samantha Dale?” you asked, causing him to flush bright pink. “Since when?”

“Last year during potions. That time when Sharp made her switch places with you,” he admitted, causing you to teasingly snicker.

“W-what? It’s not like you haven’t had a crush!” he sputtered.

“I hate to disappoint you but no, I haven’t,” you deadpanned.

“Tell you what, let me ask you this question instead. If you were given the choice, who would you snog in our year?”

“Garreth Weasley, I am NOT answering that!”

“I’ll get the answers right out of you whether you like it or not and you know it. Is it Amit?”

“No.”

“Is it me?”

You slapped his arm in response, earning a laugh from him.

“I’ll take that as a no. Leander?”

“I’d rather get kissed by a dementor.”

“Touché. Perhaps Sebastian?” 

“Have you seen how he looks at the new 5th year? Poor lad looks like a lovesick crup puppy it makes me sick.”

Garreth paused, deep in thought. His lips curled into a smug grin.

Oh no. This isn’t good. 

“Ominis Gaunt?”

A pregnant silence ensued, your expression utterly mortified. Garreth guffawed at your bewildered state, running away from you as you chased him down. Your face was a bright shade of red - whether it is out of embarrassment, denial, realization, or the fact that you were greatly offended by the mere suggestion, Garreth has already arrived to his own conclusion. He was absolutely never going to live this down. After all, you were normally straightforward especially when it came to your preferences: your hesitation was already an obvious sign to the answer.

Tomfoolery aside, Garreth knew you didn’t really like Ominis. To you, Ominis was a sardonic little gossip. Whenever something of note had occurred and anyone involved passes by, he would often quip about their little secrets or actions alongside his unsolicited opinions. His reputation as a Gaunt also played a part as to why you steered clear of him as much as possible: they were proud, volatile, discriminatory, and has a long history with dark magic.

Everyone in Hogwarts always say that it was impossible for secrets to be kept within the castle walls. If the castle walls have ears, then one of those set of ears most likely belonged to Ominis himself. Unfortunately, that would prove to be a correct statement for your particular little case: a certain male with a particularly strong sense of hearing might’ve picked up on your conversation with Garreth earlier.

“Are you sure about this?” Garreth asked as you grabbed the phial from the potions table. “You don’t need to be the test subject, you know? We could just get other people to try it out.”

The concoction that you’ve been working on together with Garreth now rests in your hand. The both of you haven’t named it yet, but it was supposed to stimulate the mind to focus better and to give its drinker an energy boost. Given how stressed you are with your academic subjects and the fact that you’re on the verge of a mental breakdown, you didn’t really care as long as the potion did something to improve your performance.

“It’s the weekend tomorrow, Garreth. If this goes wrong, I have two days tops to get better. I doubt I’ll even need to go to the hospital wing though,” you reassured, taking a sip. The liquid was fizzy, tasted like sherbet lemons, and it brought a pleasant little buzz at the back of your head after a while. Garreth stared at you expectantly.

“Well...?”

“Hmm. So far, so good. We’ll see what happens for the rest of the day,” you said.

“Grand. I’ll see you later then!”

You and Garreth headed off to your own respective classes. You headed off to the Transfiguration Classroom, feeling increasingly invigorated as the potion took its effect bit by bit. You were rather proud of the concoction you and Garreth had made. It felt as if you chugged a vial of Felix Felicis - nothing would ever go wrong for the day and luck was definitely on your side. 

“Hopefully this little boost lasts until I’m done with all my assignments,” you mumbled to yourself as you entered the Transfiguration Classroom, sitting at one of the vacant desks. Your classmates began to pour in, occupying the remaining seats while you flipped through the pages of your textbook, mulling over the possible lesson for today. Right as Professor Weasley left her office to enter the classroom, the classroom doors barged open revealing the flushed faces Sebastian Sallow and Ominis Gaunt.

“Ah, you two are just in time. Please take your seats,” Professor Weasley said. The two panting boys complied, heading to the remaining vacant seats, which was the one right beside you and the other was beside Cressida Blume. The opal-eyed male opted to occupy the one beside you, much to your hidden distress. You were thankful that you didn’t have Garreth as a classmate here - it would’ve been a nightmare seeing his smug little grin and him occasionally making kissy faces to mock the remaining patience right out of your entire being. 

Thankfully, the class was rather uneventful aside from a brief lecture and all of you trying out the Vanishing Spell on several objects. You kept stealing not-so-secret glances at the boy beside you as he made his own attempts, flawlessly executing the spells within a few tries. As much as you hated to admit it, the Gaunts truly did have their own unique allure. Ominis was one of the living proofs - he looked quite elegant and easy on the eyes compared to most of the guys in your year: milky blue eyes, alabaster skin, beauty marks, and dirty blonde hair that was always neatly-styled. He was someone that people would most likely stare at out of admiration.

“You know I can feel you staring at me, right?”

Until he opens his mouth, that is.

“Hmm? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you deadpanned, causing his lips to curl into a knowing smirk. You didn’t like that a single bit, and you wanted this class to end so that you could go about your merry little way avoiding the Gaunt as you always did.

“...On that note, I’ll be assigning you all into pairs. Your partners for this assignment are your current seatmates: I’ll be expecting a 6-inch essay compilation of the Inanimatus Conjurus Spell by next week. Class dismissed.”

Your face fell.

“Is there something the matter?” Professor Weasley asked, noticing your rather upfront reaction. You shook your head vehemently, earning a couple of snorts and giggles from your classmates. You quickly shut your textbook and got up.

“Catch you around. Try compose yourself the next time we sit together, won’t you?” Ominis mocked jokingly as he left. You pointedly stared at his retreating back, silently quelling your mild annoyance.

For the most part, you stayed out of trouble for the entire day, focusing on your assignments and catching up on advanced self-studying. The drink proved to be quite a success so far - it was nearly as effective as an Invigorating Draught, and it helped you sort out the tricky bits from your assignments without contemplating on it way too much. You’ve been holed up in the library eversince your last period, and you still felt quite energetic. The library was getting more and more empty, with students opting to go to the Great Hall for their dinners or back to their common rooms. Meanwhile you just got out of the Transfiguration Section after getting the necessary reference books for that blasted compiled essay due next week. 

Suddenly, you felt your head throb, causing you to drop the books rather unceremoniously on the table. Good thing Madam Scribner wasn’t nearby or she would’ve chided you for not handling school property with care. You uncapped the phial of the concoction, chugging the last remaining contents. Perhaps the effect was lessening hence the sudden dizzying headache.

Oh but you were dead wrong. It got worse.

You felt your body heat up uncomfortably as your senses began to get more heightened - your breathing is now labored, your clothes felt unbelievably scratchy against your skin, and you felt that oh so familiar sinful tingling in between your legs. Panicked, you glanced around the library, seeing if there’s anyone nearby. You clenched your legs shut almost painfully, trying to steady your erratic breathing and heartbeat.

“Alright, self. Calm down. As long as nobody sees you like this--”

You were snapped out of your inner monologue with an oh-so-familiar posh-toned voice jolting you back into reality.

“Thought I might find you here. About that assignment...”

You inwardly screamed in sheer horror and embarrassment, cursing the bad luck that had befallen your poor self. Ominis sat right beside you, blissfully unaware of your current predicament. You couldn’t even comprehend what the male was saying to you: you were gripping your skirt tightly and biting your lower lips all in a great effort to suppress anything that might be a dead giveaway to your situation. Ominis, however, was a lot more astute than you expected. His eyebrows furrowed, immediately sensing that something was up.

“Why are you holding your breath?”

Fuck.

“O-oh. Uh... I-I was? W-well I-”

“What’s going on with you?” Ominis asked rather harshly. You gulped, trying your best to keep the last bits of sanity in your brain intact. According to your nether regions, Ominis sounded absolutely ravishing when he talks like that, and the remaining rationality within your mind refuses to accept that depraved notion. 

You almost moaned out loud when he touched your forehead with the back of his hand. He, however, wasn’t looking too amused with how unusual you were acting. Ominis frowned, looking rather offended for getting him caught up in this awkward situation. He got up, getting ready to leave.

“W-wait!” you cried out, tugging at the sleeve of his robes while looking at him with pleading eyes. “P-please help me...”

Ominis quirked an eyebrow, a faint smirk gracing his lips at your begging tone. He turned back towards you, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Oh? And why should I do that?” he sneered.

“Please I... I think I might’ve ingested an a-ah...!” 

“A what?”

“...Aphrodisiac...” you breathed out, shameful tears welling up in your eyes.

Ominis was mortified, a dark shade of pink flushing his usually pale complexion. He cleared his throat while loosening up his necktie in an attempt to diffuse his bashfulness. An aphrodisiac problem was certainly the last thing he would’ve expected from you.

“So you want me to help you... Because you might’ve ingested an aphrodisiac?” he asked, still finding the situation beyond belief.

You sobbed in response, nodding furiously. You felt so utterly humiliated that you were actually on the verge of wailing on the spot. You couldn’t think straight, you were a mess down there, and you were trying your absolute best to get the situation in control. You didn’t want to go to the hospital wing, nor were you even planning to tell Garreth or Natsai about this unfortunate side effect. Your common room wasn’t an option too because it’s a shared dormitory and the Ravenclaw tower was simply too far. Hell, this was one of the worst situations you could ever find yourself in, and there was absolutely no way Ominis would agree to this madness. 

Honestly, you just wanted to stay in a more secluded place to wait for the effects to die out. However, you had no idea where to go and you were desperate enough to ask even Ominis himself.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when he stood up and leaned towards you, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up at his misty blue eyes while his other hand rested on the table surface behind you to support his weight.

“Are you sure you want me to do it?” he breathed. You blushed at the question, your sobs slowly quieting down as you drank the sight of him under the cold moonlight peering from the arched windows.

He was so frustratingly beautiful. So fucking ethereal.

“... Y-yes,” you gulped shakily. “P-please.”

Wait. Do what? What’s fucking happening? What the fuck did I agree on?!

He hummed in response, seemingly satisfied with your answer. 

“Hmm. Perhaps you do want to snog me after all,” he murmured before planting his lips against yours. Your eyelids fluttered shut as you instantly melted into the softness of his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck. He lifted you from your seat, making you sit on the table. However, the both of you were interrupted by the sound of heels clacking on the wooden floor. You and Ominis quickly got up, hiding behind one of the nearby bookcases.

Madam Scribner came up to the table, frowning. She grabbed the now haphazardly-placed reference books from the table, tutting about how irresponsible students are with handling books before walking off. 

You and Ominis remained still, listening intently at Madam Scribner’s now dying footsteps. As soon as the exit door was opened and then shut close, Ominis captured your lips once again, pushing you towards the nearest table. The both of you were frantically scrambling, attempting to remove each other’s cloaks while remaining in a passionate lip lock. You sat on the table as soon as you felt the edge of the table top hit the back of your thigh, spreading your legs apart to pull Ominis much closer to you. 

For some odd reason, having Ominis Gaunt right in between your legs felt so fucking right. Your head spun with lustful desire, taking in his addicting scent: a faint combination of patchouli, sandalwood and spearmint candy. He gave one of your breasts a firm squeeze while his tongue intruded your mouth, to which you gladly received by lightly suckling on the wet appendage, earning a groan from him. Ominis ground his hips against yours instinctively, brushing his now visible erection against your still clothed privates. 

His lips then began trailing down from your lips to your jawline, latching itself on a sensitive spot at the crook of your neck. You mewled, teasingly trailing your feet along the back of his legs, finally locking your legs around his hips to further push himself harder against your heated core. His hands harshly gripped your ankles in response, your inner thighs quivering in anticipation as he deftly unclasped your Mary Janes. You kicked them off rather impatiently, slightly raising your hips up as Ominis reached underneath your skirt for the waistband of both your tights and knickers, slowly peeling the article of clothing off your legs.

“Bend over for me,” he growled against your ear, to which you happily complied as you leaned over the table while lifting your skirt up. You shuddered both in delight and relief as the cool air hit the skin of your warm lower regions. Ominis traced a finger on your exposed slit, groaning as globs of your honey-like essence coated his digit. 

“Merlin, you’re fucking soaked...” he moaned, inserting his finger inside your hole, earning a breathy gasp from you as your legs trembled in wanton delight. You felt your juices trickle down your legs as Ominis added another finger inside your core, pumping his digits in and out of you at an increasing speed. You whimpered, slapping your hand over your mouth at the brutality of his fingers. With how sensitive your body was, it wouldn’t take long until you had your sweet release. 

Much to your disappointment, Ominis retracted his fingers away from your heat, licking your juices off his fingers. He groaned at your sweet taste while you sobbed in frustration, swaying your rear as your legs trembled at the lack of stimulation. Ominis swiftly unbuttoned his pants, tugging on the waistband of his briefs to free his painfully erect shaft. You let out a surprised whimper upon feeling the blunt head of the thick appendage stroke itself against your weeping slit, lubricating itself before it dove right into your awaiting pussy with little to no resistance. Your back arched instinctively at the sudden intrusion as you gasped blissfully in sheer unadulterated pleasure.

“A-ah..! F-fuck yes! Mmph..!” you cried out. Ominis slapped a hand against your mouth while the other pinned one of your wrists against your lower back as he plowed his cock inside your pussy.  

“Best to keep it down, don’t you think? Wouldn’t want us to get caught now, do you?” he panted, thrusting deep and fast as you mindlessly moaned with absolutely no shame against his hand. He was right - there were enchanted portraits nearby, wandering ghosts, and prefects right outside the library after all. The thought of someone walking in at any minute made your walls clench, which doesn’t go unnoticed by the alabaster-skinned male as he relished in the spasms and flutters of your inner walls, his cock twitching in pleasure.

“Oh, you are absolutely vile!” he chuckled darkly, slowing himself down momentarily yet still thrusting as deep as he could. You swore your knees almost gave out as the tip of his cock kissed your cervix. 

“You’re quite the filthy little whore, aren’t you? It’s almost as if you want to get caught,” he mocked as your knees shook. You sobbed pathetically with pleasure-filled tears running down your face. He yanked your upper body closer to his, letting his hands wander shamelessly on your curves while peppering the column of your neck with bites and kisses. You blissfully sighed, intoxicated with all the sensations happening on your body all at once. Your bleary eyes widened as his cock brushed against a spot within your weeping hole, your mouth hanging ajar in a loud gasp which caused Ominis to smirk against your neck. He slammed your body back on the table, your breasts flat against the table surface as he aimed for the spot precisely with swift, merciless strokes.

Ominis was absolutely delirious as he listened to the debauched symphony of your helplessly submissive little yelps and moans, wet skin slapping against each other, the sound of the table rocking against the hardwood floors, his own erratic breathing and occasional groans whenever he felt your walls flutter around his swollen member. This was now his new guilty pleasure: reducing his normally put-together, top-achieving, goody-two-shoes of a classmate into nothing but a slut who’s hungry for only his cock. Something about that mere thought completely disintegrates his last remaining shred of principles and rationality in the moment as he mindlessly chased his high, sinful fantasies filling his presently depraved, pussy-drunk mind.

“F-fuck! I... I’m cumming! I’m cumming-!” you babbled as your walls clenched unbelievably tight around his cock, causing Ominis to hiss in pleasure as he pulled out of your quivering hole, pumping his member desperately as spurts of milky white semen landed on your labia. The both of you stilled for a moment, breathless and completely fucked-out.

Ominis quickly tucked his now softening member back into his pants and tidied himself up while you shakily got up from the poor table. You groaned, feeling a slight pain in between your legs as you conjured a clean cloth with your wand, wiping away any stray bodily fluids from your lower regions before vanishing the object away. Ominis leaned against the opposite bookshelf as you put your panties and tights back on, crossing his arms. You glanced at him as you sat on the table, clasping your shoes back on. He was still as pristine as ever, as if your recent activities had never even happened.

“Prefects should be gone by now. Will you be alright going back to your common room alone?” he asked. 

“I think so,” you replied, grimacing slightly at the dull throb of your worn-out hole. Ominis hummed, walking towards the staircase leading to the library exit with his wand up, the tip blinking its signature red light.

“Oh, and Gaunt?” 

“Yes?”

“Nothing happened here, alright?”

chapter 2: what a mess! 🔞 >

[chaoticgremlinwholikescheese]

I Just Want to be Numb

AO3 LINK

Angst

Hurt/Comfort

Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Hurt Evan "Buck" Buckley

Protective Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)

mention of alcohol/substance abuse

author is projecting onto Buck like usual

Eddie can't sleep. His mind won't stop running. He's worried about Buck. Buck, who is a responsible adult who doesn't technically live here, and therefore can handle himself and do whatever he wants at whatever hour. Yet he can't stop worrying. Buck sleeps at the Diaz house almost every night. He joins them for dinners and helps cook breakfasts. The fact that he didn't join them for dinner tonight doesn't mean anything. He doesn't have to text that he's not coming over for dinner. Except he never misses dinner without texting first, and that's on the rare occasion he ever misses dinner. In fact, Eddie can't remember the last time that Buck ate a dinner over at his own place.

Eddie can't help it. He texts Buck.

EDDIE: Hey, you alright? You weren't home for dinner

The text is so domestic. Eddie would be embarrassed, but it's exactly the kind of domesticity that has become the norm between the two of them. It had become the norm long before they crossed the line from best friends to partners. When exactly they crossed that line is unclear. They never said anything about it. There was a silent agreement between the two of them. And one day, without even thinking, Eddie kissed Buck on his way out the door. It was so natural that neither of them realized until Chris started laughing. Eddie would have apologized, but Buck had gotten up and firmly kissed him. And that was it, they were partners from then on. They had talked about it later, of course, but even then it had just been about what they were. They had settled on the term 'partners'. That's what they were and had always been; partners.

The sound of the door unlocking releases some of the anxiety in Eddie's chest. He climbs out of bed and goes to meet Buck in the living room. Buck has his back to him at first, focused on putting down his things. When he turns around, the worry that had eased returns. Buck's eyes are rimmed with red, clearly from tears. When he sees Eddie, he gives him an apologetic look. He tries to smile but it's more like a grimace.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't. I was already up."

They stand in silence for a moment before Buck speaks.

"My parents are back in town."  Without any further explanation, that is enough to explain Buck's current state.

"Let's go sit down, yeah?" Eddie holds out his hand. Buck takes it. He gently leads Buck to the kitchen, only separating their hands to grab some mugs for tea. He silently asks Buck if he wants some. Buck nods. Eddie puts the kettle on and pulls down the tea Buck likes. There's silence the entire time the water heats. Buck is lost in his own head, Eddie lost in watching Buck. He catches the kettle just before it whistles so as not to wake Chris. Once the tea is made, he gestures for Buck to join him on the couch. The silence continues. Buck clutches his mug so tight his knuckles are white.

"You know how I don't get drunk?"

Eddie nods. He's never seen Buck completely drunk. He'll get tipsy, sure, but never shit-faced.

"I don't like feeling out of control. And drunk Buck is...sad. Quiet. Depressing. I don't want people to see me like that. It's embarrassing. But after seeing them I just- I went to a bar. I wanted to get drunk. Not for the pleasure of drinking. I wanted to feel that numbness that comes with being drunk. I sat there for hours. I couldn't do it." Buck rubs a hand over his face. "I know that sounds pathetic." He laughs, but it's without any humor.

"It's not."

"It's moments like these that I wish I liked getting drunk. I want to feel numb. Forget everything." His chest stutters as he breathes. "I didn't even know they were in town. They're here to visit Maddie. Apparently they decided that coming a few days early and cornering me in my loft was the best way to talk. It was bad. It always is. I didn't know what to do. I could have forced them out, or called someone, but I froze. It was like I was a kid all over again. I just let them walk all over me."

READ THE REST ON AO3

[lale-txt]

🌙 modern AU: OP kids teaching their dads how to use the computer

a/n: avoiding all the things i'm supposed to write and writing silly little headcanons like these instead because i needed something for the soul today and because my heart is soft and weak for any of these dads and their sons ugh („ಡωಡ„)

Law & Rosinante

deep breaths, Law is reminding himself as he watches Rosinante trip over the cable of the charger and almost take down the whole PC setup with him as he falls to the ground

this was the man he owed his life to, the man who burned down several hospitals for him, the man who never gave up even in the darkest hours… giving him a computer crash course was the least Law could do to show his gratitude 

with a cigarette dangling from his lips Rosinante sits up straight, eager to learn all about the world wide web 

he nods along eagerly as Law starts rambling about the importance of secure passwords and how to detect spam mails, that he should never ever click on one of those and never give out any private data about himself

as if Rosinante hadn’t lived an undercover life for so many years and didn’t know a thing or two about keeping data safe

Law is unfazed as he puts out a small fire caused by a smoldering cigarette someone dropped on the tittie mousepad (a gift from Rosinante’s brother who had obnoxious taste but at least it was good for the wrists)

he also continues his PowerPoint presentation when Rosinante slips from his chair when he wants to change his position and Law takes a mental note to never get him a gymnastic ball because that won’t help his dad with good posture, it will probably just break his neck

“any questions?”, Law asks after a 5 hour lecture and raises an eyebrow when Rosinate lifts his hand. now what could it be, he went into deep detail about everything, there’s not a single topic he hadn’t covered…

“so. how do i turn this thing on?”

Ace & Roger

his therapist had suggested some father-son-bonding time but Ace wasn’t entirely sure if that’s exactly what they had in mind

“you have to doubleclick to open it”, Ace says through gritted teeth as he watches his father trying to open the internet browser, the mouse disappearing entirely under his big hand

Roger laughs and pats his son on the back, just happy to spend some time with him

“but i’m clicking already, i think that thing is broken. maybe i’m just too old for this thing.” – “no, you have to click faster. not like that. just… fast. oh my god, dad, are you kidding me?!”

Ace is close to gnawing at the desk as he watches Roger click anywhere just not the icon he is supposed to click

how did this man sail the whole world back and forth and can’t do a simple thing as opening an app and why does he want to learn how to use a computer anyway at his age

Ace is close to getting up and running out when Roger turns to him and smiles at him softly, almost apologetically

“you know… this is nice. i love spending time with you. now show your old man one more time how to write an email so we can stay in touch when you’re traveling.”

Ace feels a lump in his throat and takes a deep breath, putting on a stoic face as he lays his hand on top of his father’s and shows him how to click correctly

there’s many things left unsaid between them but not all of them were bad. after all, Ace would sit and smile when Roger replies to his email from vacation with an over exaggerated chain of smileys :-) :-D :-) :-D :-) :-D 8-D  

Yamato & Kaido

listen, Kaido is trying, he really is

it‘s not his fault that this keyboard is TINY and his fingers are MASSIVE

lots of yelling and shouting and doors being slammed as Yamato’s patience is running thin 

he comes back to Kaido crying in front of his tiny laptop and in the end will help his dad send out the “funny eCard” to his friends and subordinates

Yamato will show him how to use speech to text because that might be helpful when Kaido can’t type on the small keyboard, right?

little does he know that he opened the box of pandora with that

cryptic text messages at 2am, something about “running out of sake press send why doesn’t it send Yamato can you hear me this is not working send send send hello oh fucking hell hello? hello? i need more sake where is it where is it ahh it’s empty hello”

that’s Yamato’s breaking point; when he decides to get rid of the computer the following day and just gift Kaido a nice calligraphy set or something instead

because frankly, he never wants to wake up to a dozen emails from his father again written through entire phases of his drunk stages

emails he didn’t send to Yamato only, but to his whole subordinates to which Ulti replied to all with a simple “is Kaido stupid?” 

also because he learned that people online call his dad “babygirl” and he’s not sure how to explain that to him…

[upat4amwiththemoon]

Some of my friends met my mom today and they were telling me how safe they feel with her and how she’s such a caring and loving mother and how I’m so lucky but she’s not actually like that and it only pisses me off bc they don’t know but they’re acting like they do bc they don’t know or they don’t want to and ugh so I was just hoping that you might be interested in writing one where Wanda rlly wants to meet r’s family but r has been stalling and so Wanda gets upset and thinks that r is embarrassed or smth and so r caves and they go stay w r’s family for a holiday and the whole time, they put up a front that they’re so perfect and so Wanda believes them bc r never says anything bc why would r think Wanda would believe the truth when nobody else will and then eventually they do something and it all clicks that the things they did to r were actually awful and Wanda comforts r?? You def don’t have to and you can spin the plot however you like but idk (it can also be for Nat if you prefer)

The perfect deception

Summary: Actors all around.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x female!reader

Warnings: bad parents

Word count: 895

a/n: here you go! I hope you like it :)

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore @sayah13

“Why can’t I meet them?” Wanda’s voice is starting to get louder as her frustration grows. The question has come up multiple times during their two-year-long relationship. And every single time, Y/N avoids the question. “Are you embarrassed of me or something?” Her voice cracks just the slightest bit.

“No! No, of course not. I just-“ Y/N sighs, rubbing her face.

Y/N opens her mouth, but Wanda interrupts her. “Then let me meet them.”

They stare at each other, Y/N pursing her lips while Wanda looks annoyed. “Fine.” She mumbles, looking away. “We’ll go there for Thanksgiving if you want to.”

“I want to.”

“Okay.”

Wanda nods, now smiling, happy she finally got through to Y/N. “Good.”

Wanda is laughing with Y/M/N. She looks genuinely happy. They are sitting at the dinner table while Y/D/N is making dinner, at times commenting adding to the conversation. Y/N is sitting in the living room alone, but Wanda doesn’t seem to notice her sour mood.

She despises how good at acting her parents are. They’ve always been great at seeming like good people to others. All of Y/N’s friends have loved spending time with them, they never believed what they’re actually like. So, why would Wanda be any different.

Giggling, Wanda walks over to Y/N. She sits down next to her. “Your mom is amazing. You’re so lucky to have her as your mom.”

Y/N hums, not looking at Wanda. Amazing, caring, loving. Those words have been used to describe her mother multiple times. Every time someone sings praises of her, all Y/N can think about are the words that her parents have yelled at her and the things they’ve done. Things that if the others heard or saw, they’d immediately take their words back.

“What’s with the shitty attitude?” Wanda scoffs. “You’ve been acting like your parents are invisible the whole time. You’re being so damn ungrateful! Some of us don’t have our parents here anymore.”

The words sting, but Y/N ignores it, snapping back wouldn’t help the situation. “I’m glad you enjoy them, Wanda.” Her voice is monotone as she stands up and walks away. She goes out the front door and goes to sit on the porch, leaving perplexed Wanda inside.

Going back to the kitchen, she sits next to Y/N’s mother. “I’m so sorry, she’s not usually like this. I don’t understand what’s going on with her.” Wanda sounds apologetic, even somewhat embarrassed.

“Oh, don’t you worry yourself about her. She’s always been like this, hasn’t she?” Y/M/N laughs, looking at Y/D/N, who laughs as well while nodding.

“What do you mean?” Wanda looks at the snickering pair. Y/N has never acted like this around her, and they’ve known each other for years.

“Well,” Y/D/N turns off the stove to be part of the conversation properly, “she’s bit of a…how would you say it? Uptight. We were really surprised to hear someone could actually like her.”

“You could also say selfish.” Y/M/N adds.

“Or bitchy.”

They continue to find different words to describe their daughter, the words turning uglier and uglier. Wanda frowns as she listens to them speak. She doesn’t understand how someone could talk about their child like that.

“Stop talking about her like that.” Wanda snaps, standing up and slamming her hands to the table. “She’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. No wonder she didn’t want to come here.” She mumbles the last sentence to herself.

Y/M/N and Y/D/N glance at each other with wide mocking eyes, they hide their laugh under a faux serious expression. “Don’t be so serious, dear. We’re all just having some fun. Calm yourself.” Y/M/N scoffs with a laugh.

Wanda scrunches her brows, opening her mouth and closing it instantly. Without saying anything, she picks up their bags and goes out the front door.

Y/N keeps her gaze forwards even when Wanda sits next to her. “You’re freezing.” She whispers, staring at Y/N, who doesn’t answer. Wanda drapes a jacket over her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how awful your parents are, you never told me.”

“You wouldn’t have believed me.”

“You don’t know that.”

Y/N sighs. “But I do know. This has happened so many times before.” She turns to look at Wanda, her eyes teary. “I’ve told every single friend how my parents are, but none of them believe me when they meet them.”

Wanda grabs Y/N’s hands into her own. She isn’t sure what to say or if she would’ve been different than her friends. “I’m sorry about calling you ungrateful.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” Wanda has a gentle smile on her lips. “I should’ve realized there was a deeper reason you didn’t want me to meet them. It was selfish of me to push you and for that I am truly sorry.”

“I forgive you, Wanda.”

“You shouldn’t, but thank you.” Wanda stands up, pulling Y/N up with her. “Lets go home and you can talk shit about your parents to me as much as you want.”

With a small grin, Y/N lets Wanda pull her in the car. “You’re too sweet.” Wanda starts the car with a giggle and drives away.

[sucheonapologist]

Sucheon x gender natural reader

The Reader's awakening power is that they can make their their drawings come to life! Similar to sai from Naruto but with colors! :D

Tw: cringe, bullying and kinda ooc?

Theme: enemies to lovers and crack

✜»✜«✜»✜«✜»✜«✜»✜

The two of you never got along ever since day 1.

Sucheon would constantly bully you and the rest for not being associated with any organization groups. However, you were lucky enough to be recommended by the shinhwa organization.

He was an absolute asshole in everyone's eyes since he's an arrogant midget bastard that always harrass the ones that are weaker and you loathed him for that.

" what's the matter? Gonna cry? " the midget known as sucheon teased as he looked down upon you. You clenched your fist in frustration, you were tired of getting bullied by someone who looks like Doberman as a pony. You immediately got up and and kicked his jewelry as his taller minions gasp at your boldness. Who were you to kick the grandson of Dusic Kang, the former CEO of baekdu organization group?!

Sucheon gripped his jewelry as one of his taller minions was about to approach you, to avenge their short king, but he stretched out one of his his arm to stop them. " If you wanted to fight just say so, I wouldn't hesitate to accept the offer! " sucheon exclaimed while you only scoff at him " You can crawl into tight spaces like all those little rodents. You should consider it as your second awakening ability. " the insult earned another gasp from his taller sidekicks and it was his last straw, he hated it when people comment about his height and you knew about that.

Suddenly, you felt a strong force and immediately merge with the ground. Sucheon smirked at this and you only grinded your teeth at his impulsiveness. Lucky, there was someone who saw you, it was jiwoo and his friends who came to the rescue!

A strong gust of wind immediately send sucheon flying away as his back collided with the wall. Jiwoo immediately came to your aid and asked what happened, you explained to him how you were just taking a walk and bump onto sucheon. Subin and wooin sent glares at them which they also returned the glare.

Sucheon stand up, full of fury in his dark irises. He was about to come after the both of you but you immediately drew a tranquilizer gun and shot him causing him to collapse and kiss the ground. Their heads immediately turned to you, which you only sheepishly smiled in response.

" What? He was gonna use his awakening power on me! "

:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:

After that, you were being scolded by Inhyuk and forched you to apologize to sucheon on personal in the infirmary by yourself. You step inside the infirmary, only to be meet with sucheon's gaze of rage and fury while you only forcefully smiled at him in response with a slight apologetic look but he wasn't having that.

" What do you want? " he snarled like a territorial cat ready to fight his opponent but you bowed your head and this took him by surprise. "I'm here to apologize. " you confessed and a smirk creep it's way into his face" aw, and to think that the most stubborn and stupid lowly unhinge being I've ever encountered has bowed their head at me? Did you finally went to school and got a proper education? " He bad-mouthed you,finding it amusing that the person who loathed him and who refuses to bow their heads at them finally bowed their head at him, making him laughed at your patheticness. "WHY YO— you know what? Forget it. I take back what i said. I rather get suspen—" you were cut off by a familiar sudden force and you were now at sucheon's side facing him, his infamous smirk never fade away and this made you more irritated.

" Ah-ah-ah, wasn't your soul purpose here was to apologize to me? Go on, continue. "

Oh how you wish to wipe that smug look off his face and claim your victory, but unfortunately he was much more stronger than you, you took a deep breath and prepared to bury all your dignity and ego sixth feet underground.

As you were about to apologize, inhyuk opened the door " [Y/N], your mother is calling for you. Are you also done apologizing?" He informed you and ask at the same time, you were about to tell him that you weren't finished apologizing but sucheon already beat you at it "they're already done with the whole apologizing thing, so can the both of you leave now? " he answered, which made you confused but shrugged it off.

You turned your head to look at him again and whispered 'thanks' loud enough only for him hear which he only scoffed at and look away in response, you rolled your eyes at him and walked with inhyuk.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

A/n: hiii everyone!!! Merry Christmas to all! We finally had our Christmas break so I'm finally more free to write fan fiction!! Also, this is my first one-shot!!! Hope you guys like it?? :D

[wooedbywonu]

He, Who Holds My Heart

"Didn't I tell you to just date the man?"

You looked over to the man across from where you sat, who is seemingly frustrated about your so "non-existent-lovelife". You reached over his fries and chuckled in return. "You focus too much on my affairs, why not focus on yours? —oh right. I remember. So what happened with your fling? Have you given her the D ?"

Jihoon, the one beside him, laughed at your reply. He then received a deadly glare but he remained unfazed. Nice try, it wasn't threatening at all.

"Y/N this isn't about me. Don't try to bring my flings in this conversation" the boy spoke, frustration evident in his face. You can't help but laugh at your friend who is clearly trying his hardest to be your cupid.

"Hoshi, I told you a hundred times already, stop setting me up with him." You sipped your juice and took some of your friend's french fries. He huffed and slapped your hands due to your actions "That's my food, go order yours" he argued to which, in return, you took another piece of his food. The child-like banter started but was easily cut off by Jihoon who isn't a fan of being a witness to an argument of two adults in there 20s acting like toddlers.

The next few minutes went by with only the munching of food being the sound to hear from your booth. The earlier conversation being somewhat forgotten until Hoshi heaved a sigh.

"What is so bad about dating Wonwoo?" you looked up and was met by two curious eyes — now four because of Jihoon who seemed curious as well. You swallowed the hamburger you were eating before wiping your mouth with the table napkin.

"Well... It's not that there's something bad about dating him or there's something wrong with him... Wonwoo is a great guy. It's just that..."

The man in front looked at you as if his eyes were speaking, begging you to continue what it is you're trying to say. "It's just that?"

"Stop setting me up with him" your reply crashed the little hope your friend has. "I don't know what to do with you anymore. I give up." he said, disappointment clearly written in his face. You could only smile apologetically.

"Hosh, I'm actually seeing someone." You truthfully said, causing the two of your friends to almost spit their drinks out.

"Well that would finally, finally, stop this whole stupid ass cupid agenda of yours, Kwon" Jihoon stated. "At last, Wonwoo could breathe and won't be choking somewhere just because Kwon Cupid keep on bringing him up" you chuckled and lightly tapped your friend's arm. Hoshi ignored him and focused his attention on you.

"Since when did you and your boyfriend dated? Why didn't I know about this stuff? Am I not your friend?"with his series of questions and a pout, you could only try your best not to pinch his cheeks.

"Aw. Are you really being sulky right now?" you cooed. "We just recently made it official. I couldn't share the news with you two, I mean three if Woo is included. PLUS it was after finals, I'm sure you would love to catch up on sleep rather than my lovelife" Jihoon nodded, agreeing with your reason. On the other hand, Hoshi still looked disappointed, you're not sure whether it's because you didn't tell him right away of your relationship status or because his match making thingy failed.

"Speaking of Wonwoo, it's getting late, where is he?"

Jihoon shrugged. "We all know him, he's probably on his way here after catching up on his game and not realizing what time is it OR he could be napping"

You called over Hoshi who is still pouting, clearly unhappy with the situation. "C'mere" when he didn't budged, you sat up and went over to his side, giving him a hug. "Stop being pouty, Hosh"

"Sorry, it's just that I'm disappointed." He then gave you a side eye "You ruined my OTP" his words received boisterous laughter from you and Jihoon, making him more upset.

"Maybe in a parallel universe, your match making skill is over the top" you patted his head and gave him a tighter hug.

"Y/N, you two could have make a great couple. Wonwoo is a good match for you"

"I heard my name?"

"Wonwoo!" Hoshi greeted. You released yourself from the hug and made your greetings as well. You went back to your seat, gathering some of your things to give space to the man who just came in.

"Hey, you didn't choke somewhere back, did you?" Jihoon asked, a smirk plastered on his face.

Wonwoo shook his head, confused. He didn't bother asking why and just settled himself beside you.

"Sorry I was late" he spoke as he reached out for your hand. You squeezed his and replied that it was okay, and that you weren't waiting for him for too long anyway. His eyes bore into you for too long, and as if on cue you got the message and sent your lips towards his cheek, earning a sweet smile from him.

The small interaction did not go unnoticed by your friends who were in awe with the scene that took place right in front of their salads (and burgers with fries) literally.

"You fucking liar" Hoshi spoke slowly as he recovered from what he had seen. "You told me to stop setting him up with you... And then.. fuck. I can't believe YOU" he dramatically said, looking over beside him, "Jihoon! Say something! We've been fooled!"

"Nah" was all he could say. "Congratulations to you, Y/N and Wonwoo. I am happy for you" you replied with thanks and looked at your hand that's intertwined with Wonwoo's.

On the other hand, Hoshi wasn't done, and will never be done with you unless you spill all the tea he wanted. Jihoon sensed this and smack the poor boy in the arm. "Let the couple breathe. Don't put your nose too much into their business" was he said.

It looked like he wanted to protest so you did what you think was the best thing to do to shut him up "I technically said to stop setting me up with him because we're already dating. No point in matchmaking if he's already mine, right?" your choice of words sent blood to the face of the man beside you.

Hoshi sighed in defeat. "I just want to know some details. Do you mind telling me how it all happened?" your friend cutely asked. You were about open your mouth to start the story telling but was cut off by Wonwoo who seemingly wanted to cherish your love story all by himself.

"We'll tell you some other time. For now, it'll just be for the two of us. Right, love?" he looked at you as if wanting you to confirm what he just said.

"Right" you agreed with a nod. You looked at the man beside you, happy to know that he's not just holding your hand, but your heart as well. You bring your free hand over to brush his hair. Each stroke of your hand sending him back to slumber, which he had too much. "How was your nap?" "I think i already had too much — but I don't mind sleeping some more if that meant I'd have it with you beside me" he murmured.

You giggled in response before becoming lost in your own world, not realizing that one of your friends dragged the other out of the restaurant to give you privacy.

•••••••

Hi! This is yet to be proof read and is written in the spur of the moment. I'm kinda new to these stuffs so I'm sorry if this won't pass your likings... I guess? But I'm glad to share my writings with you. Feel free to like, reblog or leave comments behind to let me know how or in what way I could improve. Thank you so much! Looking forward to nice interactions with you guys! ^^

[creepycassidy]

SFW Alphabet for Alt Al? 🥰

You guys are down bad omg OBVIOUSLY I WILL 😋

(Sorry this took longer than the first one, I’ve been working on a few other requests as well!!)

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Alternate Universe!Albert Shaw SFW Alphabet

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Warnings: cigarettes and non-graphic abuse mentions

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A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Albert is very affectionate and very lovey!! Honestly, he’s hugging you 24/7. He’s very big on both the physical aspects and words of affirmation. He wants you give you all of the love he never received. Sometimes he shows affection through silly magic tricks (that he probably spent forever practicing) like pulling flowers or small stuffed animals from his hat to gift to you.

Another way he shows affection is through acts of service. He wants to do for you all the time. Wash your hair, kiss your boo boos, carry you around, sometimes he’ll hand feed you food. He doesn’t mean any harm by it, and he’ll stop if you don’t like it but it just makes him very happy to take care of you.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

I personally think that before you started dating Al, you were probably close friends and even as a friend he always went above and beyond for you.

Doing you favors that you didn’t even really ask for tbh

Like, do you wanna come work at the hardware store with him? He’s the assistant manager, he can get you a job. That way you can see each other all the time!

He took you out to lunch a lot even as friends.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

ALBERT LOVES TO CUDDLE!! He can’t get enough of it!! His favorite ways are with you sitting in his lap, facing him with your head laid against his chest or in bed, all tangled up around each other chest to chest while you doze off.

He has a rocking chair that he likes to rock you in when you curl up in his lap. He’ll brush your hair from your eyes and kiss your forehead.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He wants nothing more than to settle down with you, honestly. Domesticity is a huge part of your lives together, and almost all of the chores are done as a pair.

As I’ve stated about a million times: AL IS N O T A COOK

But he always makes it fun, if not a little hazardous-

Don’t be surprised if he slips in the kitchen or breaks a dish. He’ll be fine though, don’t worry. It’s honestly unbelievable how clumsy he is.

Blowing dish soap bubbles™

“Abracadabra!” *throws the mess he’s been meaning to clean up into the basement*

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Very awkwardly and very apologetic.

He’d kinda be a “it’s not you, it’s me” type of guy. Eek.

It would take him a little bit of working up to it.

Asks if you still want to be friends lmao

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Al is 100% committed to you, he doesn’t even want to look at anyone else now that you’re around…but he doesn’t want to rush too quickly into asking you to commit to him, especially if you’re younger. He has a little bit of a fear of your rejection, even though he’s very used to it from others and takes it in stride as best as he can/tries to laugh it off.

Once you’ve settled into being comfortable with each other for a while, that’s when he’ll give you the ring. Likely at home, after an at home dinner date or in the van, parked somewhere nice.

It’s less about being legally bound to one another, and more about the promise. Chances are, you never had a legal wedding. It was either an at home, backyard exchange with Max ‘officiating’ and your friends coming to watch, or a private exchange between just the two of you.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Al has strived over many years to be as little like his own father as possible, which means he’s usually very emotionally and physically gentle.

The pills also help control his mood, y’know.

You’re almost treated as though you’ll shatter if he’s too loud when talking to you, or too aggressive. He only speaks to you in soft tones.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Yes, OF COURSE and anytime he can!!

When it comes to you Al’s hugs are tight, all encompassing, and warm. He wraps his arms around your middle as snug as he can manage and pulls you into his chest, inhaling the smell of your hair and kissing the top of your head so gratefully.

If you’re shorter than he is, sometimes he’ll sit down so you can crawl into his lap and he’ll rest his chin on your shoulder.

Picks you up and spins you around, holding you tight!!

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Stupidly quick. He told you (and honestly meant it romantically as well) when you were still very much in the friends stage.

He tells you everyday. Writes it on the mirror condensation while you’re taking a shower, puts notes with your lunch.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Al can get pretty jealous, if you give him a reason to be.

Although, you wouldn’t know unless you know his mannerisms well.

He shuts down for the most part and gets very quiet and almost grumpy, distancing himself when he’s usually talkative and chatty.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Al’s kisses are warm and mostly soft. He cups his hands over your face and rubs your cheeks with his thumbs, sometimes squishing them into a funny little pucker when he’s feeling goofy.

“Mwwwwahhh!”

Peppers them all over your face and body!!

…and sometimes they turn into raspberries

He tastes vaguely like cigarettes, pop, and then mint lifesavers. (Kinda a nasty combo but uh, y’know. It is what it is.)

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Really good, actually!!

He wouldn’t ever want any of his own, but he’s kinda a child at heart and interacts really well with them.

Kids’ birthday parties are his favorite, he loves the way their eyes light up when he does magic!!

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

In bed, usually sleeping in while you’re curled into each other and Samson also sleeps at the end of the bed.

Or, in a rush to get ready for work because Albert slept through the alarm clock/just didn’t want to get up yet.

Cereal for breakfast!!

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights are usually spent unwinding after work together, with a hot bath w/ lots of bubbles to start and then ordering take out/attempting to make dinner (hopefully with no spills on Al’s part)

Turning on the TV as nothing more than background noise while you eat together and reflect on your day.

Al is VERY big on communication and he likes to talk about the way you both felt throughout the day, and the way you feel at the end of the day.

Finally snuggling up under the covers with Sammy at your feet

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Albert has quite a lot of trauma and he didn’t want to start dumping it on you immediately.

Mostly because it’s a lot to hear, but he also didn’t want to scare you away.

So he’d take it a bit slowly, but be very honest in what he tells you. He loves you, and trusts you with even the nastiest bits of his life. Don’t be surprised if he cries, it’s still mostly unresolved and it’s a lot to talk about.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Al, aside from everything conditioning him to grow up otherwise, is very patient.

He never gets angry at you, maybe frustrated or irritated once in a blue moon but it’s very normal.

Even though he won’t admit it, he gets angry at Max more often than he should.

In general, you have to really push and/or take advantage of Al to get him angry and even then, he tries to resolve it fairly quickly.

Anger is his least favorite feeling, it always makes him sad afterwards.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Albert is excellent at remembering the tiny and odd details about you.

Your favorite songs, how you take your coffee exactly, the smells you like and dislike, your favorite candy. He often surprises you with the things you mentioned liking in passing as little gifts.

When you met, he likely forgot your last name, but remembered your eye color.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

He would have a rough time choosing one, but he can probably (maybe) choose two!!

One being the first time you hugged him. You were warm, like a safe haven for him to let his guard down. Every time he hugs you now, he feels the same way.

The second being the first time you exchanged the words “I love you.” He was so excited he scooped you up into his arms!!

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

For someone who’s such a klutz, he’s also very protective over you. Physically, as well as emotionally.

Don’t think he’d hesitate to put himself between you and harms way, Al has been through a lot of abuse so he won’t stand to watch you be hurt.

He’s also emotionally protective when you’re having bad brain days. He’ll wrap his arms around you in bed to let you cry it out against his chest. He won’t ever ask you, but please, do the same for him.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Al always tries to do the best he can with what he has, so things aren’t extravagant but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t put effort into them.

He doesn’t take you to fancy restaurants, but he’ll spend forever setting mood in the house exactly right or finding a place that serves your favorite foods.

Everyday tasks are always done with love, as they’re small acts of service for you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He has a habit of putting himself down, even if he passes it off as a joke. He might laugh when he calls himself a idiot or a joke, but he’s serious on the inside.

Not so bad, but he bites his nails. It’s a nerve thing so he doesn’t really think about it when he does it until they hurt/bleed.

It’s not excessive, but Al always has a pack of cigarettes around to smoke when he’s particularly stressed out or upset. Depending on the week, that could be often or not.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not very much. He has basic hygiene, and maybe puts a little more effort into his hair with conditioner. Shaves his face regularly. Smells pretty decent, like laundry detergent, faintly of cigarettes and dog, and a little cologne/aftershave.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Absolutely, Albert honestly may need you more than you need him.

His whole life is go to work and then come home to take care of you, Sammy, and snowball with a little magic thrown in. He loves it, wouldn’t have it any other way.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

I stated this above, but he has a big ol’ fluffy bunny named snowball!! She’s used for magic shows and the kids go wild over her!!

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

In general, alcohol. Al doesn’t drink. His parents drank, Max drinks, and he doesn’t want any part of it. He thinks it tastes bad and doesn’t like what it does to people.

In a partner, probably someone stuck up or boring, without a sense of humor. Anyone too plain, in that sense. Al’s whole life is pretty much clown shoes. If his partner can’t laugh with him, it won’t work out.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Uh, often.

Al is tired a lot and sleeps in whenever he can.

He also snores (hope you don’t mind) and is SUPER hard to wake up once he’s out.

He has nightmares about certain things sometimes, but they’re not worryingly often and nothing he can’t calm down from.

Can sleep in pretty much any position so sometimes you might see him on his stomach.

If you’re with him, he’s always holding onto you tight, with his arms wrapped around your waist and his face buried into you.

-

Enjoy this? Buy me a coffee! ☕️

[stonebutchstories]

Thursday

Stone butch dom top/ stone butch bottom

Robin she/they

Natalie he/him

Cw: sexual language, explicit language, domination, use of titles (sir/boy), partial undressing, oral fingering, degrading language, manhandling, sex toys, oral performed on a toy

It’s Thursday. Natalie just got a promotion at work, but its hard to celebrate in the middle of a flare up. His boy Robin has some inspiration from an outside source.

I knew before I went to bed that I’d wake up in pain. The forecast was calling for yet another gray one, and I’d had too many surprise painless days in a row. I was due for it, with my period probably starting, too. I preemptively applied some generous dabs of tiger balm to my biggest problem areas, propped everything with pillows that needs propped, and had my ibuprofen at my bedside with my other medication in a shallow trinket dish Robin had gotten me on a trip. I put my phone under my pillow, where it would be easy to call them in the morning. They hadn’t stayed the night, since they had a lecture at 7 sharp and didn’t want to wake me up early just to spend a few extra hours in pain.

I’m used to being right, but it’s a hollow victory. I guessed right about my left hip, since it’s always the first thing to ache. My left ankle is flaring up, too, today. And my neck and shoulders. Surprisingly, I hadn’t gotten my period yet. Maybe something to bring up with my endocrinologist, as a blessed side effect of microdosing T, or something to be worried about. There would have to be emails and phone calls, when I felt well enough for it.

I took the pills I set out and reapplied the balm, shuffling with my duvet into the kitchen. From there, I went about my shitty morning. Frozen breakfast, smoking my shitty bent-up spliff with the last of what I got from my med card, sending off my shitty emails to my shitty boss. I worked from home in the barest sense, mostly moving around commas in outlook online to keep my status as ‘active’. By 3, my smoke had worn off and I took a long bath, with my laptop next to me in case of a work crisis. By 5, I had fallen asleep on the couch in fresh pajamas, page 11 into the monthly faculty newsletter. By 6, Robin was home.

“Hi, Nat.” Shes smiling, already looking apologetic. She knows it was a bad day, but gives me the chance to confirm it.

“Jalen got a job offer with another dealership.”

She raises her eyebrows, trying to conjure the memory of this work drama. “Oh? … No shit, huh? Well. I guess that’s good for you, though.” They played off having no idea what I was talking about well.

“Yeah, well. I’m happy for him. It is good news for me, I think.”

“Raise or just title-wise?”

“Raise. Possibly title, which is more important with layoffs next year.”

They drop their arms out from where they had been crossed. “Natalie. That’s amazing.”

I groan from under the cushions.

They prop a knee on the couch, starting to scooch in closer to me. “I mean, you deserved it last year, in my opinion. You were more on it than most of your coworkers at the start of the pandemic. NOT giving you a raise is what would be unbelievable. I wouldn’t let them fuck me over like that.”

“Good thing they’re not fucking me over.” I don’t move.

She drops her hands. “Is this… not good news?”

I shift under the duvet. “It is good news. It’s just a bad pain day. I cant get excited about it.”

Robin slumps into me. “Oh hon.” She throws an arm over me, avoiding my bad hip, or at least what looks like it from under the covers.

I grumble. “Don’t ‘hon’ me. You sound like my mom.”

She pats my back gently, putting on my mom’s Wisco affect. “It’s okay, hon, progress isn’t linear.” She pauses. “Neither is your spine.”

I laugh in spite of myself. River knows how to get me to laugh on an off day, and it’s almost always at the expense of those corny positivity accounts my mom and siblings repost. If anybody else said this shit, I’d be rolling my eyes, but Robin can. Maybe because they’re funny, maybe because they actually sit with me to do the work and drive me to the specialist, and let me squeeze the ever-loving fuck outta their hand when I’m doing my PT exercises, and apply tiger balm to me in fascinated concentric circles. We can laugh at it together instead of me, in my little dark hole suffering and getting laughed at by my body. I love Robin’s way, and I laugh.

“After I get done with your goofy ass, NEITHER of our spines are gonna be linear.” I mime some punches.

She kneels on the floor next to the couch, putting her grinning face up close to mine.

“Oh? Gonna blow my back out, big guy?” They shake their hips suggestively. Robin’s kinda a pretty boy, despite the way she carries herself. I think it’s all in the subtle things. They shaved their head, but they have full eyelashes that sweep down and meet their early wrinkles. They wear bulky thrift menswear and ugly grandpa shirts, but the tips of their collarbones poke out of the neckline in a way that draws my mouth in magnetically. She rarely goes a week without jeers from coworkers about hickies. We enjoy being old timers in young love.

I click my tongue, trying to play off my blush. “Man. Sure would like to.”

“Hmm. Bet you would.” She brushes my hair out from my eyes, and kisses my forehead. She whispers when our heads are close. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it at work.”

I pull her in by the back of the neck. “Oh, yeah? What were you thinking about?”

She considers it for a moment, then pulls away. “Calm down, honey. I gotta make us some food first.”

I pout. “Can’t we just get takeout?”

Robin considers. “Weeeeell. You did just get that raise. We could write it off as a celebration.”

“Yessss. See, you have me enthusiastic about work.” I toss a limp arm in underwhelmed celebration. “Hooray for my raise.”

She holds my hand, rubbing over the knuckles with her thumb. She slots her back against the back of the couch, holding out her phone for the two of us to look at.

“What should we get?”

We scroll through DoorDash for a while, checking the local selection for something suitable. I’m very agreeable, hoping to pick quick and get done quicker. I wanna hear what it is had Robin distracted at work.

We order and I forget what we got the second Robin turns to face me. My mind is on one thing only. We have about forty minutes.

“Get your ass over here, pretty boy.”

They tense up, the electric charge that comes with the shift in our dynamic physically setting in. “Are we starting, sir?”

“Yes.”

Robin stands to undress. I’m not in a state to do it myself, and they know it. I’m miffed, but they know how to compensate. They lift off the many layers they came in wearing with gentle hands and breathy sighs. When I watch them, feeling up on themselves and letting the cotton fabrics slide lazily over their skin, I can imagine what it would be like to live in a body predisposed for pleasure. I might be jealous if it was anybody else, watching them lavish sensation over a body that is warm and pliant, but as it stands it just makes me want to begin.

“Robin. Grab me an ibuprofen.”

She hardens for a moment, concerned.

“Go on, pretty boy. Do as you’re told.”

That sets her off quick. I can hear her scurrying around the kitchen, a little cold in her skimpy underclothes. I’m hoping this does the trick fast- I want to fuck them harder than my body is gonna let me. She hurries back, lifting the pills to my mouth and practically pouring some tap water in.

“Jesus. A little eager, huh?”

She chuckles. “Ah, Sorry, sir.” Shes fidgeting, sitting on the hardwood in her boxers and thin tank top. She usually keeps them on even if my hands are under them. I don’t mind at all- I keep everything on. As much skin as she likes to allow me, that’s precious. I don’t want for anything but her. Still, she’s cold in this freezing-ass apartment. I pat the couch beside me.

Robin crawls under the duvet with me, legs a bit chilly from having stripped down. I can feel the thin hairs on their calves when they tangle together with me, careful not to bother my bad leg.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s been on your mind today, baby boy?”

Robin hums again. “Mostly, I was thinking of this video I saw. There’s this couple I found on OnlyFans the other day and it’s two dykes. One of em looks like you. They do some things I wanna try.”

“Oh yeah? What kind of things?”

Robin wraps an arm around my shoulders, trying to steal some body heat. She tucks her head into me and whispers into my neck, avoiding looking me in the eyes for this. “This most recent one was uh. Sucking strap.”

It’s borderline embarrassing how obviously my gaze falls on Robins lips. They have soft, full lips that hum out gentle contentment at almost everything I say. She tells me she hums like that because she likes the sound of my voice, how I’m confident, how I’m unshakable. She says she’s agreeing with the way I carry myself, giving perpetual yesses to what I am. Hearing that they think those things makes them true, even when I disagree. Robin’s always chewing something while she works, and I focus on that rhythmic movement in her jaw as much as she focuses on what she’s getting done. So intent, and calm. I imagine tilting her head up and away from her laptop screen, facing those focused, drooping eyes at me as I stand above her and sink my fingers deep. And the fucking sound that would give me, God, I need to feel it in my fingerprints.

I brush my pointer and ring finger against their lower lip, testing. I don’t want to startle them. Some times, I worry about being too much too quickly for Robin. They’re sensitive like that. They lean in instantaneously, delighting in the feeling. They lift their head away from my neck and into my touch.

“Like this?”

I go slow, and they yield for me without breaking our eye contact. They nod and hum eagerly, eyes fluttering shut. Her jaw goes slack and I press my fingers in. Robin hums against them, and a warm vibration travels up my arm and to my brain, one that makes every nerve become so much more alive. I feel all the delicate slides and wriggles of her tongue in my fingers, every sensation she can possibly give me. The soft walls of her cheeks, smooth and slippery teeth brushing against my knuckles. She sucks gently, mostly just letting her mouth go limp against the motions, cause she’s the kind who gets embarrassed at the sound of her own desperation. I don’t mind it, it just means we have to take our time. And that means I will be fucking her slow. I squeeze my legs together and shudder, ache be damned.

“Sir.” She says as best she can around the fingers pumping sweetly in and out of her mouth. I slip them all the way out so she can speak, for now.

“Yes?”

“In the video, the one getting fucked had their arms pinned.”

I grin. God. Fuckin’ Robin, man.

“That so?”

They hum.

“Well, you know I’m a sucker for a faithful adaptation.”

I turn her onto her stomach, quick enough that it sends a shock down my shoulder blade. I grit through it, maybe pushing her down into the cushions a little extra hard. I catch her arms in one hand, and lean myself over her to hold her down. They yelp in surprise and curl their legs together.

“S-so rough with me today, sir.”

“Sorry. My shoulder.” I chuckle apologetically.

“I don’t mind.”

Ah. I tentatively roll my knee, the one forked between her legs. She moans.

“You want it like this , baby boy? I’m surprised at you. Youve been so soft lately.”

It’s true. Robin has been on a bit of a vanilla streak. I think it’s the cold weather, it makes them want to cuddle up and go to bed before we can work up to anything more rough. Whatever’s broken the streak is welcome.

“Hmm. I’ve got an itch I need to scratch. I need you to push me.”

“Push how?” I want specifics. I still myself completely, waiting for them to tell me exactly how hard and where.

“Like, physically. With your hands. Hold me still. Make me choke just a little. Push down hard, and don’t let go.”

That last line catches on something, and I know this isn’t about the sex. Something is on Robin’s mind tonight. The force of it is what really carries the appeal for them, the tight embrace and relief. I know they must be hurting, trying to transform the ache of worry into sharpness, a momentary sting and then a sigh. They want to be held as tightly as possible, broken in to allow them to feel more freely. This, I understand. We live in pain in different ways, but it feels so good to convert it into the type of pain we can both understand.

I sneak my unoccupied hand over her shoulder, winding my fingers back in her mouth. She shivers. I can tell she wants to speak, but she likes having her mouth fucked by my hands too much to interrupt yet.

Robin squirms underneath me, steaming up underneath our covers. They shift their shoulders side to side, testing just how trapped they are. They don’t budge much. They moan hard against my fingers and the realization that they are at my mercy.

“Cant break free, huh, baby boy?” I move my hands to allow a response.

“No, sir.” Shes reveling in this, smiling into the cushions of our couch.

I almost laugh. “All that gratitude, for this?” I push down on their pinned hands, insisting my ownership. I click my tongue. “Such a whore.”

Robin wriggles underneath me and whines. I resume my movement in their mouth, pushing deeper down their throat and swirling my two fingers in possessive patterns. I’m tracing over her lips, her tongue, her teeth, well and truly fucking her mouth. While I’m at it, I crank my grip of their arms upwards, pushing how far they can take. They try to speak around my fingers, but I’m feeling devilish. I speed them up. The words come out as messy chokes and moans.

“What was that?”

I keep pounding as they whine in protest. I add a third finger, curling it against their tongue. It’s starting to sound properly dirty, how I like, and Robin’s pretty hums and sighs are only adding to it. They try to repeat themselves, but fail again.

“Didn’t anybody ever teach you not to talk with your mouth full? God, It’s like you WANT to be punished tonight.”

They mumble something into my spit-slicked fingers. I pull my hand out of her mouth.

“Go on, baby.”

Robin gets timid, pressing their face into the sofa before blurting out their desire.

“Punish me, sir.”

Fuuuck. I want to. My ibuprofen hasn’t kicked in as quick as I’d hoped, but I can still throw my boy around enough for the next thirty minutes. Maybe after dinner I’ll be up to the challenges, and I can well and truly break her in.

I move the hand that was fucking her mouth to the back of her head and push down. She’s buried facedown on the couch now, keening softly. I carefully set up on my hips, testing to see how much I can realistically thrust. It’s not gonna work. My shoulders aren’t in shape for a proper spanking, either. Luckily the focus is on their mouth, and I have a pretty good solution.

“Pretty boy.”

She hums in response, like it’s her name. I let her up.

“Yes, sir?” Shes still pinned down by my legs, but turns over her shoulder to face me. I get a good look at them, seeing how full and flushed her lips got from being fucked. Her eyes are a little watery, too. I wish I’d kept going, I barely got started.

“Go to our room,” I trace a finger under her chin. “And pick which cock you want me to fuck you with.”

They shiver. They’re about to give me my ‘yes sir’, but they hesitate.

“Uh, what do you… um. Where do you mean, sir?”

Ah. Sometimes Robin gets shy about actually taking my cock in certain ways. Shes not stone in the same way I am, she sometimes enjoys taking it vaginally so long as we’re careful. She’s very sweet and obedient, but I get the sense tonight might need to be a different speed.

“Your mouth, honey. You’re gonna get yourself off tonight.”

She whines, not suspecting that.

“Noooo!” they whine and thrash around a little. It’s so cute.

“Oh, come on, baby boy. I know you’re desperate enough. You asked to be punished, too. Maybe I shouldn’t let you cum at all.”

“N-no, because-“ Robin tries to push up from the couch, but I shove a firm hand at the base of her shoulders. They grumble indignantly, enjoying the force but bitter at being denied. “The butch in the video got to cum.”

I laugh, quiet. “You and your videos.” I bend over to kiss them on the wrist. It’s their favorite, they say it makes them feel taken care of. Robin sighs.

“Please, sir. I’ll be so good for you.”

I kiss again.

“I’m sure you will.” I slap her ass over the boxers, and I feel her hips jerk into my thigh. With that, I let Robin up. “Go. Fetch.”

It’s all a little humiliating for them with commands like that, but I happen to have it on good authority that Robin likes to be told what to do. Especially in degrading tones. They hurry out.

I test my movement in my hip socket again, wiping off my wet fingers from fucking their mouth. I don’t normally ‘push through’ the pain for my work or my family, but I don’t mind the burning feeling when it comes with benefits. When I wake up tomorrow, it will be a different kind of ache, and I’ll have them in my arms.

Robin returns, shaking gently. At first I think it’s a shiver, then I realize it maybe is nerves, once I get a good long look at the strap she picked out. I have four, of various sizes and materials. The one they’ve picked out is a beautiful custom piece, marbled silicone with striped and bands of gold that look like veins. It’s the largest by far. I got it for a small fortune off an custom seller last year, and havent been using it much since, unfortunately. It was just a little too big to play with for Robin, so it’s mostly been a showpiece. That said, Robin sucks cock very well. Even if they can’t take my biggest size, they clearly want to suck it. In their other hand, I see they picked out my harness and bullet vibe.

“What are those for?”

Robin stiffens in embarrassment. “U-um, I thought maybe… I’d be sucking you off while kneeling?”

I grin smugly. “Is that what you thought?”

She nods.

“Why don’t you kneel, then?”

They drop, almost alarmingly, to the floor. They extend the toys to me. I smile a little, and muss their hair, which they lean into. I can feel the tips of her ears getting cold when I play with her hair, so I hurry and throw the duvet over them.

“Get comfortable. I don’t want you kneeling with bare knees on the hardwood. It’s too cold today, anyways.”

They smile wistfully.

“Hm.”

“Hmm?”

The rest their chin on my knee. “You love me.”

I pause. Robin has an instinct for keeping me on my toes.

“How you figure?”

“Earlier. You said ‘our room.’ You called it our room.”

Goddamn it. They’ve got me there. I didn’t even realize I had said it. Technically this is just my apartment, but it might as well be our room.

I lean in and kiss them gently. They lean forward, letting me kiss deeper, tasting how hot and wet I made their mouth when I was playing with it. I cradle her head in my hand, and break just as gentle as we started.

My eyes flick between their mouth and eyes. She’s got deep dark eyes cover me entirely in every glance, and they make me so warm I don’t even notice the chill in the room. She grabs my wrist to keep it at her cheek, and leans into the warmth of my palm. And I hate to admit it, but I’ve been caught in the act of having this feeling, haven’t I?

“Huh.” I right myself, clearing my throat. “Still fucking your mouth.”

She shines, looking up and in adoration. “You better. I want you to go hard, too.”

“Well, when you ask so nicely.” I kiss them again. “Let me get it on, then.”

I shift to the side, enough to pull the harness briefs over my sweats. The spandex is a little tight, but I manage to tug them over myself without much trouble from my bad hip. Robin scoots over to me with the duvet under their knees when I’m situated. I pop the strap into the harness with some effort, since the standard O-ring isn’t really suited for something so big. She’s gleefully watching me struggle with it, knowing just how big it’s going to feel slipping down her throat.

Once everything is in place, she wastes no time. They didn’t bring any lube out, but their mouth is wet enough from earlier that my cock is dripping with their spit with just the head in their mouth.

“Fuck,” I mutter.

She bobs her head down tentatively and gently moans. The duvet wraps around their body, leaving the tops of their shoulders and neck visible to me. I particularly enjoy this view, leaving enough skin for me to sweep my first two fingers over their shoulders as they suck. The sound of her reaction is sweet, a deep sigh of contentment. I like to touch her softly, almost too softly, and watch her jump and squirm under the feeling. She shudders forward a few inches down my cock, and I hear a stifled choke. That’s what I’m looking for.

Since they got that haircut there isn’t a lot to pull on anymore, but I place my palm around their neck, trapping the curve of their chin between my thumb and pointer finger. I squeeze slightly, feeling Robin’s hot pulse on my palm.

She moans hard, and I remember after the fact that Robin is into choking. She pauses, eager to see if I’ll continue. I don’t choke her, at least not right now. Instead, I nudge the back of their head down my cock further. Just there, I can feel the beginning of a bulge in her throat. Robin registers what I’m doing and I see the embarrassment and arousal dawn over their face, savoring it along with the feeling. She bobs her head on it some more, starting to test just how far she can take. Every so often, they look up at me, pleading for something with big teary eyes and a dirty moan.

I’m starting to get into it , especially once Robin starts massaging my inner thighs with her hands. She knows not to get too close with her touch, and centers her attention where she knows it’ll make me hard. It works like a charm; I’m starting to shake under their hands just slightly, enough to test their gag reflex. Like always, they do so well for me, and I let myself go a bit harder.

“You’re so good at this, baby boy.”

I don’t get a verbal response, Robin just drags their nails down my thighs, tilting their head to the side and into my hand. They speed up, wet gagging slipping out of their mouth along with the spit. I notice under the duvet that they’re starting to slide a hand under their briefs, looking up at me for permission.

“Did you want the vibe, or was that for me?”

Robin pops my cock out of her mouth with a rugged pant, and she blinks out a single wobbly tear.

“You, sir. If you want.”

They plunge back down like they need my cock in their mouth, like it feels wrong empty. I slide the bullet vibe under my boxer briefs, trying to click it to life and into the perfect position. I watch her mouth while I do, mirroring her soft circular motions on myself, feeling her mouth without feeling. I involuntarily jerk and moan, which makes her laugh under her breath.

“Something funny?” I squeeze her throat, feeling how the bulge has moved even further down than before. They’re practically deepthroating it.

Robin tries to shake their head as best they can, all obedient and sweet, but it’s too late.

“Speak up, baby.”

Their eyes go wide. I still have them possessively anchored in place, mouth full. I palm the back of her head, shoving her all the way down on the strap. They sputter and moan in deep satisfaction. I know they can take it deep if they stay still, but they asked to be punished and choked and facefucked, so I pull them back up by the hair and shove them again in one continuous motion.

“That’s right. Fucking take it.”

“Mh-“ Robin rubs over my thighs with their thumbs, in a choppy pattern much simpler than earlier. She’s a little preoccupied.

I grasp the back of her neck and speed up the bobbing motions, moaning openly at the slick gagging and choking sounds. They whimper.

“Fuck, baby boy. Just like that.”

I feel them start to slump into me, going slack and letting me set a punishing pace. The weight of their body presses the base of my strap into me, nudging the vibe down hard. It’s the right spot, and it’s just enough to make me cum.

I yank them away so I can watch the spit trail from my cock to her mouth to the floor when I cum. Robin looks at me with glassy eyes and pants gently, and it’s a fucking sight to behold.

“Was I good, sir?”

“Fuck. Come here, baby.”

I pull them up by the scruff of their neck to lie on the couch with me. We scoot in close together under the big duvet, warm and comfortable. I scratch at their prickly shaved head and we both do our best to breathe again until we’re perfectly synced. They tuck their nose into my collarbone and sigh.

“You’re gonna put me to sleep, touching my hair like that.”

“I hope not. Our order should be here any-“

Robin shoots up. “Oh my god, I forgot!”

Dinner was delightful. We watched our favorite show and shared more Rangoon than anybody has any business eating in one sitting. She kissed me on the forehead and I kissed her on the wrists until we fell asleep. When we woke up hours later, the blueness of the full moon on snow had coated the room and ourselves. We rolled together that way a few times more until morning. Robin says it again- “you love me.” And I can’t redirect the intensity of that feeling with jokes or distracting touches; it flows through everything I do. Every unconscious action is an expression of that love, but I decide to express it out loud for good measure.

“Yeah, baby. I do.”

[yandere-sins]

Stares

Horrortober Day 5: Disturbance “Nothing can interrupt us now.”

I will admit I wrote this one way too late into the night. I should go to sleep yikes :’D Enjoy!

Warnings: Yandere, Body Horror, Kidnapping, Molestation, Harrassment, Sexual Innuendos/Actions Characters: Sukuna x Reader

It was rare to see the King of Curses calm and even a little approachable.

Not that you liked seeing him at all, but you preferred it this way than any other. Ever so often, he peeked out of Itadori Yuji’s face, taunting you, belittling his host. However, you were just glad to get through with your work that day, teaching the boy the necessary theory he had to learn. You’d be gone before you had to deal with the host or the curse inside of him, just like every day. Routine, that’s what Nanami called it. Routine would benefit all of you, but you still hadn’t come around to like what you were forced to do.

Morally, it was wrong to call the boy a curse. He ate something cursed, and now he was beyond screwed, but still… Whenever you saw him, pure survival instinct ran through your veins. You wanted to defeat him, end this miserable life, but you weren’t allowed. Sorcerers weren’t supposed to teach curses, just kill. But you were torn between your orders and duty, looking at what was sitting in front of you.

Asking other sorcerers for their opinion on the matter, and you were faced with the same responses. The same struggle and conflict you were facing, except, maybe, Gojo, who seemed to be unbothered by what he dragged into your holy halls. However, the most unnerving thing that came up in conversation was how often Sukuna showed himself in your class… but not in the others. Given, they did see the casual third or fourth eye, or one mouth too many. Still, even if the others were unnerved, they chose to ignore, while you were the only one to actually have spoken to the king—though it was no honor.

“Brat, the teacher’s staring.” Instantly, Yuji’s attention shifted to the extra mouth on his cheek and then to you, expecting you to say something. You quickly caught your composure, not having realized you’ve been staring - probably in disgust - at him, almost feeling bad. Clearing your throat, you picked up your book again, shaking your head in denial before continuing to monotonously read the text inside of it out loud. Sorcerer history hadn’t been your favorite subject either, but you were stuck with it, unfortunately. Yuji was diligent enough, but even while you read, you couldn’t get your mind off the threat in front of you.

Especially not when long, clawed fingers gripped your book by the spine, lowering it with surprising force.

“No, you’ve been staring. There’s no denying it, Sorcerer, spit it out,” Sukuna grinned at you cheekily, having temporarily taken over your real student.

“I was trying not to vomit looking at you,” you snarled back, slapping his hand away that he retracted in fake hurt. “Bad liar,” he called you before the marks suddenly faded, Yuji going back to being himself.

“Ah, sorry about that,” he muttered apologetically like so many times before. And you sighed, assuring him it wasn’t his fault.

»»————————

It wasn’t his fault either when Sukuna cornered you in one of the hallways around the school. Being cornered by strong two arms did not give you the butterflies that all these novels always tried to sell. Granted, you flinched pretty hard, but once you were face to face with him, your anger far outweighed your fear. He was scary, no question asked. Sukuna could destroy you with a flick of his finger. But somehow, naively so, you didn’t believe he would. Something about ‘he could have, but he hasn’t’ made you bold apparently. Stupidly so.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” you hissed, and he rolled his eyes. Yuji’s body looked stupidly wasted on him, the boy being such a ray of sunshine in contrast to his evil counterpart. Sukuna didn’t become him. His attitude didn’t.

“You’ve been staring at me,” he repeated. Why was the topic so important to him?

“So what? What is it to you?” you returned snidely. Lips curling into a grin, you felt like you had actually humored him. Not the direction you wanted to go with the King. “Well, I wanted a good look at you…” he mumbled, his eyes driving from the shirt on your collarbones to the shoes you were wearing slowly, noticeably, and… lusty.

“...too,” he finished his sentence before licking his lips.

“Disgusting,” you whispered dryly, staring at him perturbed, and Sukuna chuckled at your obvious rejection.

“Well, I have what I wanted.”

Before you could repeat, he disappeared, leaving behind a slumping student of yours, and you cursed the King of Curses quietly, dropping everything to had in your arms to support Yuji. “Asshole,” you mumbled, and for a brief moment, you thought you heard him chuckle again, but you couldn’t be sure.

»»————————

It was him. He was planning something all along, and you knew it.

But no one could see it since this plan almost exclusively involved you.

“Shrivel and die,” you told him through gritted teeth, pushing at his chest as hard as you could. Sukuna was undeterred, pressing you against the old chalkboard and nibbling on your earlobe. Why did no one believe you when you swore up and down that he wasn’t just a quiet bystander? That he indeed was trying to do something—or someone?

“I do love a filthy mouth,” he sighed, making you want to throw up just from the implications alone. Even with your elbow between you, there was no movement. The other sorcerers had told you about Yuji’s strength, but you didn’t think you couldn’t handle it. Apparently, however, you couldn’t, and it was infuriating. While Sukuna was doing as he pleased, you decided on a different approach, opening your mouth to scream.

Finally, it caused some reaction in him, his head recoiling at the jarring sound, but before long, your lips were captured with his, a fight breaking out between your mouths. He was trying to silence you efficiently with his tongue in your throat, the mere thought of kissing a student repulsing you, and you were biting at his lips which didn’t seem to bother Sukuna at all.

“Someone will come,” you reminded him fiercely as he broke away to give you some air.

“Silly,” he only commented before kissing you again. You were hammering at his chest, trying to make your disapproval evident, but it was to no avail. Sukuna wouldn’t budge. Only when he, mercifully, allowed another breath, you screamed again, using your palms to defend from his face closing in to shut you up. The weight of his body was pressing you into the wall painfully, but realizing your powers simply wouldn’t show no matter how hard you tried was even worse. Did he have some kind of ability that stole your energy from you? Was it fear that blocked you from using it? Were you afraid?

You were. 

It was indeed silly, even if it was painful to agree with Sukuna. You never feared for your life, taking every day and mission as it came. But you were scared now because of the monster in front of you. You had been right: you should have killed him when you could. Stupid! Absolutely stupid to keep around!

Even you understood that it wasn’t death you feared. You feared Sukuna’s presence and the effects it had on you. How defenseless you were suddenly and how, even though he always disappeared in the end after annoying you, he just didn’t seem to let go of you now. 

“Scream some more,” he taunted, and you weren’t going to object. Immediately, you put up the fight again, feeling your lungs clench when you robbed them of all the air to get some help. But nothing happened. “I like it when they struggle,” Sukuna laughed, crazy, madly, victoriously. As if he won a war you didn’t know about.

“Come, open your eyes! Look where you are!” he encouraged you, grinning from ear to ear. Confused, you looked around, seeing the same old classroom that you always had when teaching Yuji. The sight slowly began to shift, fog collecting at your feet and the walls moving unnaturally under your gaze. You’ve been scared before, but it was nothing compared to what you felt as everything shifted. 

You hadn’t realized it. 

Not for one moment did you know he activated his domain, something no one had been able to explore until now. It was different from what you expected, much more vast and deadly. But you also saw the remainders of the classroom, and you wondered how much of it was taking up the actual reality. Horrified, you looked around, now knowing your screams wouldn’t echo for no one but you two here. You always thought you were a decent sorcerer but maybe… maybe you were nothing at all. At least not in the eyes of Sukuna.

“Finally,” Sukuna sighed, satisfied and seemingly exhausted by effort you didn’t know he was making. “Nothing can interrupt us now. I just needed you to lower your guard.”

“You…” Your mumble was met with deafening silence. Not even Sukuna’s breathing made a sound in this space, and you immediately felt claustrophobic in the pitch black that encased the realm. His realm.

“I was nice. I waited. Those… manga said it was proper in these times, though, I don’t care for them. But you kept staring at me as if you were trying to kill me. Do you know how hard it was to wait? A king shouldn’t have to wait-no. I shouldn’t have to wait for you when you are coming on to me.”

Blinking a few times, you looked back at him. Perhaps, for the first time, you were truly meeting his gaze, always finding a reason to not look at him directly before. But not anymore. Now you were indeed looking at him, not remembering those times he said you stared when this was the first and only time you really saw him. “It’s been too long that I had company. How nice of you to offer yourself up to me~”

“I never did-” you tried to argue, but you were swept into another kiss, flailing in his arms as you feared falling. Endlessly. You could no longer discern where the realm started and ended. “You’re mine now,” he growled, unhinged.

“I will devour you, Looker. It’s punishment for not welcoming me sooner. There’s a lot to make up for.”

You’ve never seen Sukuna calm before. Because if what you had witnessed was what you called calm, it had been because he was waiting for the right moment. The right moment to pounce, and to your misery, it was now. Stares could kill, people said. It was true, you found out, as you killed yourself with it by making the King of Curses recognize you. Though, you wished you were dead.

You merely killed your freedom with your actions, as there was no way Sukuna would let you have that ever again after you piqued his interest unwillingly.

[spilledkauffie]

Meet Cute

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x DogMom!Reader Word Count: 1.8k T/W: fluffyyyy A/N: I know it’s a trope, but I love it!

Can you imagine Bucky with a puppy?!?!

Managing six dogs at once wasn’t exactly easy, but you did it rather gracefully, at least most of the time. Today however, you fumbled with your keys at your apartment door when two dogs suddenly, and swiftly wrapped around you, pulling opposite directions. With a small shocked squeak at being squeezed, you accidentally dropped both your keys and a leash, one out of six wasn’t bad, but it was still a loose puppy, trotting around the apartment hall like he owned the place. 

“Peanut!” You yelled out of sheer concern as the baby dachshund gallivanted towards the stairs, as if it were his prison break at last, “Peanut, sweetie, come here!” You called again, eyebrows furrowing during your attempt to untwist the other leashed from around you, as he got closer and closer to that first step which was far too steep for him to comfortably and safely make wihtout tumbling down the rest. 

You watched in sheer panic as his short stout front legs took the leap of faith with ears flying freely in the air like he was Dumbo. You anticipated the little yelp that would absolutely break your heart— Thankfully there was a soft landing platform neither of you had prepared for. Underneath Peanut appeared two hands covered in black gloves. The small dog fit perfectly in the hands as he wagged his tail, beyond proud of the heart attack he nearly gave you. Sighing, you leaned into the door of your apartment for support. 

“Whoa there,” the saviour said, bringing the pup up with him as he stood, having had to dip to catch the pup on the stairs, after glancing at the shining silver bone shaped name tag he met the dog’s eye line, “Peanut, was it?”

As the stranger made his way up the last few steps, you couldn’t take your eyes off him. While you didn’t know him personally, you had seen him around the apartment complex before. Heart still pounding, you shook your head at the pup who was plenty happy in the hands of his rescuer. 

“Peanut Butter Brittle Biscuit,” you full named the dog, causing him to tuck his tail, still wagging it though. Setting your hand, which was still being tugged on by the other five other dogs, on your hip, “you know better than to just run into strangers, it's rude.”

“Well, Peanut,” he looked to the pup in all seriousness, “I’m Bucky. There, we aren’t strangers anymore,” he affirmed, shaking the dogs tiny little paw gently, “and so we’re not strangers,” he looked to you, “I’m Bucky, and you are?” You smiled at his flirty tone, “unless you’d like to go by 4C? Keep it professional?”

“Four- C?” You gave a puzzled look.

Bucky pointed above and behind your head, with the hand he was not literally cradling Peanut with. Quickly glancing you realized it was your apartment number. Now feeling a flush of embarrassment, you took a moment to face him again, squeezing your eyes closed. 

“Oh yeah,” you nervously laughed, before giving him your name as well, you liked the way he repeated it to himself, “and you’re 2E, right?”

“Do we know each other?” he asked, tilting his head with a smirk.

“Oh no, I just, sometimes I see Yori go down there, and- I’m not stalking you, I promise,” you frantically explained, waving your hand, wrapped in dog leashes. 

“No,” Bucky smiled, letting you know that was not what he was thinking, “I think I’d hear you if you were though,” he looked down and around at the literal pack of dogs sitting and standing around you. The pack ranged from a German Shepherd to a Golden Retriever to a Dachshund to a Pomeranian to a Corgi to, lastly, a dopey Great Dane.

“Most definitely,” you laughed, trying to calm your nerves, “we’re not the most graceful bunch, you had a display of that just a moment ago, which thank you so, so much.” You placed your hand over your chest, as an expression of relief. 

“No problem,” he said with a sincere nod and smile, petting back the dog’s ears, “looks like Peanut here is a real daredevil.”

“You have no idea,” you glanced at the puppy, “he’s a troublemaker and thinks he’s invincible.”

With that Peanut interjected giving the most babyish attempt at a deep roo, sassily from where Bucky held him still.

“Talker too, huh?” Bucky gave a shocked glance at the Dachshund who was still resting comfortably with his chest being cradled by Bucky's hand.

“Yeah, well we’re 40 minutes late to D I N N E R,” you spelled out the last word in a whisper, “Fridays are always long days,” you gestured around you to the bigger dogs with toys covered in drool, they just stared up at you, sighing you collected yourself, “they’re park days.” 

“Ohh, I see,” Bucky nodded, “I'd hate to keep you any longer then.” 

With a soft ‘okay’ and a smile, you held your hands out to take Peanut back. There was a brief moment in the exchange where your hands touched his and he gave a ‘sorry’ knowing it was probably cold against your skin. As Peanut hovered with both your hands on his chubby little sides. Your Dane tugged one way again, while the Retriever was determined to go the other, pulling you and Bucky closer together. Practically chest to chest, save Peanut being the barrier between the two of you.

“Oh my gosh,” you whispered, looking down immediately, even though there was hardly room between you two to do so, literally feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, you closed your eyes, “this is not happening.”

“I’ve been in worse situations,” Bucky remarked cooly, keeping his gaze focused on you, finding it surprisingly cute at how flustered you were around him. It’d been a long time since he had felt someone had real genuine human emotions regarding him. 

Neither of you took your hands away from the other’s. Standing there you bit in your lip, calming your rising pulse as you were now close enough to smell his cologne. 

“I’m-” you started, finally looking up, “so sorry.” 

“It’s really okay,” Bucky chuckled, not wanting you to feel as worried as you were, but you just knit your brows together and gave another apologetic look, “honestly, I could- I could do this all day.” There was a pause, then you smiled, ducking your head to hide your face against Peanut who was really becoming a star matchmaker, “I think Peanut and I are going to be very good friends by the end of this.”

Lifting your head with a nod, you sighed, stroking the pup’s ear, for a moment before you guided the other dogs around to give you some more space. Bucky respectfully took a step back, somehow still holding Peanut after all that. You opened your apartment door and the dogs rushed in, you let each leash fall off your hand as they entered. You said their name with each one to keep track of them.

“And lastly,” you exhaled, reaching your arms out again for the troublemaker of whom Bucky surrendered, though he was getting fairly fond of him, “well, at least let me invite you in? Have a drink on me? Something?”

“That’d be great,” Bucky said, gesturing for you to lead the way. 

Once you were both in and Bucky shut the door behind him, you let Peanut loose and immediately he ran to his dinner bowl, waiting in anticipation. Offering Bucky to sit at the bar, you set two cold bottles on top of the counter, but before you joined him you got out six dog bowls, making him smile.

“How long have you had them?” Bucky asked, opening his bottle relaxedly with his hand.

“They vary, some for years, but the most recent,” you nodded to Peanut, “only a few months.”

“So uh, why so many?” Bucky inquired. 

You squeezed your shoulders up, looking around at all of them, “they needed a home,” you said, soft smile, “each of them came from a broken place, of hurt and pain. That’s all they knew before I took them in, and,” you shook your head smiling wider, looking over to Bucky, “if I could be a part of their healing, I knew I had to be. I can’t think of leaving something to suffer if there’s something that can be done to help.”

“That’s-” Bucky looked to the floor as you rounded the counter, to sit next to him on another bar stool, having just set all the bowls down, “that’s a really great mindset.” 

“What about you?” you took a sip, “any pets?”

He swallowed shaking his head, “no, I have a weird work schedule,” he squinted at his own reasoning, hoping it didn’t sound too dumb.

“Oh gotcha,” you nodded, before gesturing with the top of the bottle, “well Rodgers seems to like you.”

Your gesture drew Bucky to look down, sure enough set atop his thigh was your German Shepherd's head, looking up with big eyes and slowly wagging his tail. Bucky pet the dog’s ear, “Rodgers?”

“Yeah, you know after Captain America? He’s ex-military himself so I thought it was fitting,” you bent down to pet the dog yourself.

There was a quietness, Bucky looked away from the dogs and you for a moment. Biting the inside of his lip he felt something he hadn’t in a long time, though he tried to repress it. A part of him felt it was a sign, another part of him told himself to ignore it. Takin another swig, he made his choice

“Hey, if you ever. . . need help with them, I’m,” he hesitated, “I’m usually free Fridays, or- park days.”

“I’d love that,” you smiled leaning back up, “how bout I get your number so we can plan a da-,” you quickly changed your sentence, “a park day.”

While you got up to grab your phone, he flipped open his, seeing the very few contacts and the messages from only one person. Wincing he was a little nervous, this meant opening up. You returned, asking for his number, to which he willingly gave you. Finishing the drinks he said he really should head home, you completely understood, already surprised that he stuck around that long after the incident earlier. 

With casual goodbyes, you shut your door and he headed back downstairs. Taking his gloves off, he suddenly felt his phone vibrate. Sitting on his couch he took it out of his pocket. Seeing your name pop up with a “hi 4C here, texting you like I said I would” and a smiley face with a dog emoji made him smile to himself. 

He opened it-- it was time to start answering messages, it was time he found his healing.