#but dipping my toe back into the angst pool

[mint-yooxgi]

Kinktober Day 7 - Yandere!Fae King!Seonghwa + Queen & Praise

@stopaskinf Said: Yandere royal fae seonghwa with Queen and praise 🫶 A/n: I kinda went wild with this one.... whoops lmfaoooooo but in my defence, Hwa is one of my muses and this could have been even longer still... It did become longer lmaooo, I added more even after I originally finished this prompt cause I couldn't stop thinking about it. It's intense, but in a good way. All I'm gonna say is: Yan!Fae King!Hwa is a BEAST 🤭 Warnings/Genre/Rating: 18+ MDNI - Smut, Mature, Established Relationship, Yandere, Possession, Monster Features, Minor Angst to start, Squirting, Oral (fem. rec)... There's a lot :) Word Count: 7,004 Kinktober 2024 Mini Masterlist

“My Queen,” A pleased hum escapes honeyed lips. “I’m so glad that you could join me.”

His eyes are sharp as they watch your every movement at the edge of the sacred pool. The crystalline water is as still as stone, even as a gentle breeze drifts through the surrounding forest. Behind him, a soft waterfall feeds into the spring, flowing from the surrounding cliff face.

Seonghwa’s long, wet hair is pushed away from his face, silver droplets of water beading against his skin. Dark eyes glint with affection as he meets your gaze, gently treading the water and awaiting for you to submerge yourself inside of the sacred pool with him. A ritual which he has waited far too long to complete with you at his side.

Cautiously, you dip a toe into the water. 

While Seonghwa has already stripped himself of any offending materials that would hide him from you, the only thing bare about you seems to be your feet. However, the moment your skin breaches the surface, you seem to grimace, retracting your foot and taking a small step backwards.

Seonghwa frowns, his head tilting slightly in concern.

“Why do you hesitate, My Beauty?” The slow trickle of water sliding off of his skin cascades into the pool below as he stands to his full height. The smooths planes of his chest are on full display, the depth of the pool just covering him below the waist as he slowly begins to make his way towards you. “Do you not wish to join me?”

“I do!” Your words come out a little rushed, eyes going wide. “I just-“

The way your voice seems to catch in your throat, whole body deflating as you sigh has his frown deepening.

“Is something the matter?” By now, he’s reached the edge of the pool. Tilting his head up, his dark eyes meet your own once again. Nothing but concern resides within. The way you seem to shrink further in on yourself the closer he gets only serves to make his heart ache.

Something is wrong, and he will do everything in his power to find out what.

Standing on that little ledge, you avoid his gaze. Your hands wring themselves together in front of your body, shuffling from foot to foot. Blinking, you exhale a soft sigh through your nose.

“Seonghwa,” Briefly, your eyes dart to his own before averting them to the side once more. “Why are we doing this?”

Your question catches him completely off guard. “What do you mean, My Love?”

You hesitate, pursing your lips.

“I mean,” You let out another soft sigh, turning your head to the side. “Why me?”

Seonghwa blinks. “Why not you, My Love?”

Again, you seem to fidget in your spot, refusing to meet his gaze. The way you remain silent sparks a memory inside of his mind. He’s only ever seen you act like this twice before, and each time resulted in him gladly lathering his hands in the blood of those vile creatures that sought to deceive you.

“Who told you more lies about yourself?” Seonghwa sees red, lips curling over fangs in a snarl.

Your eyes go wide, finally turning to meet his sharp gaze. “No one told me-“

“Who?” His voice booms out across the forest, a flock of birds taking off in the distance.

You flinch back, breath catching in your throat.

Immediately, his expression softens, features losing the intense shadows that have fallen across his face.

“I deeply apologize, My Love.” He reaches out gently for you, taking your hand into his own. “I did not mean to frighten you.”

You shake your head, your lower lip beginning to wobble as tears line your vision.

Painfully, Seonghwa’s heart squeezes in his chest. The very last thing he ever wants to do is make you fear him. He is meant to protect you. To hold your heart in his hands just as you hold his in your own. There is nothing that he wouldn’t do for you, and the last thing he ever wants is to make you upset.

“My Love, please do not cry.” With ease, he pushes himself out of the pool and onto the ledge you’re standing on. Water drips onto the earth as his arms surround you, your legs soon giving out as you both sink to the ground. “I would never forgive myself if I ever hurt you. The mere thought of anyone feeding you filth about yourself makes me want to tear apart their very souls.”

“I know, Seonghwa,” you hiccup lightly, wiping at your eyes. “I just-“

Your breath catches once more, and he brings a hand up to cup the side of your face. Gently, he guides your gaze to his, wiping at your tears as he waits for you to collect your thoughts.

“I still don’t understand why you could ever want me.” Your words are but a mere whisper on your lips, but it’s as if they are a loud siren ringing inside of his head. “I’m not like you. I’m not menacing, or powerful. Hell, I’m not even that pretty. I’m only human, and yet you want me? I don’t know why you’ve always been so adamant about me. I’m not anything special.”

The way you avert your gaze as you speak those final words has his heart aching inside of his chest.

Gently, he pulls you in closer, thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek.

“My Love, will you please look at me?” Seonghwa keeps his tone soft, eyes flitting over every inch of your features as he studies you before him.

Cautiously, you flick your gaze over to his own.

“Would I ever lie to you?”

You blink, brow furrowing lightly as you sniffle. “You can’t lie.”

“My point exactly. I cannot lie. Nor would I ever want to when it comes to you.” He replies earnestly, staring deeply into your eyes. “Every moment you have spent with me, I feel as if I have been reborn anew. I could get lost in the way your mind stimulates my own. You aren’t afraid to tell me off when I’m being a ‘nincompoop’,” you chuckle at that, “and I could never get mad at you for that. You are the one person I could listen to without question. The one person who has touched my very soul. No one else can say that. You are my choice, and I would never choose otherwise. To me, you are perfect. Flaws you believe you have are simply what makes you, you.”

Your expression softens, a fresh onset of tears lining your eyes.

“I will never let anyone fill your mind with such poisonous thoughts. There is nothing I am not willing to do for you. If anyone so much as questions you, or doubts my choice, then I will not hesitate to dispose of them in the most brutal ways I know how.” Both of his hands are now cupping the sides of your face, forehead coming to rest upon your own. “So what if you are a human? You are still braver, stronger, more intelligent, and unbelievably more incredible than half of the fae that live under us. Not to mention how you’re the most stunningly beautiful woman I know.”

“There is no one else in this world that I would rather have as my queen other than you.” He tilts his head forward slightly, brushing his nose against your own. “Whether still human or soon to be fae, you will always and forever be My Queen. My one and only queen. The only one I will ever want. The only one I will ever need. I love you. I love you, and nothing - no one - will ever change that.”

Your breath catches in your throat, swallowing thickly as his words wash over you. The sincerity alone that you can see shining within his dark gaze says it all, and you cannot help the way your heart positively flutters.

“Seonghwa,” The call of his name is but a tender whisper upon your lips. “I love you, too.”

The curl of his lips upwards is nothing but loving as he brushes his thumbs over your cheeks. A moment later, and he closes the distance between the two of you, kissing you softly. The way your hand comes up to cup his own cheek has him humming against you, pulling you in closer.

“Now,” He mumbles out, flicking his tongue teasingly over your bottom lip. “Will you join me, My Queen?”

You pull away, wiping the tears that linger from your face. A soft smile rests on your lips as you trace your hand down his neck and lightly over his chest. “With pleasure, My King.”

The way he shivers beneath your touch says it all.

Leaning in to place one final kiss to your cheek, Seonghwa slides back into the sacred pool. His eyes never leave your figure as you stand back to your feet, gaze hooding over as he sees you reach for the hem of your shirt.

He licks his lips, cock twitching in anticipation.

Long since has he desired you. Long since has he wished for this day, and now that it is finally here, he plans on taking his time with you. No longer shall you doubt his affections for you. No longer will you question your beauty. Once he’s done with you, you will be his, and he will finally be yours.

“My Beauty,” he hums, noticing the way you seem to still hesitate to remove your clothing. “Never be afraid to reveal yourself to me. There is not a part you that is unloved by me.”

Subtly, your hands tighten over your shirt. A movement his eager eyes catch in the sunlight that filters through the surrounding trees. Seonghwa cannot help the way his breathing deepens, hands lightly skimming the water surrounding him in attempts to release some of the tension from his body. It’s taking everything within himself right now not to jump you, to tear your clothes from your flesh and ravage you like he’s long since desired.

His jaw clenches, cock twitching once more.

The slight hitch in his breath is audible even to you as you finally remove the material of your shirt. The way he’s staring at you, eyes dark and predatory, his chest heaving with every breath through his parted lips, makes you shiver. You cannot help the way you swallow thickly, shifting to cover your arms over your body.

A low growl escapes him, those same shadows falling over his features as he tilts his head the slightest bit forward. “Don’t you dare hide yourself from me, My Queen. I want to see every delectable inch of you.” 

A deep rumble fills the air. A tone you’ve never heard him use before with you. It makes you shiver, heart stuttering excitedly in your chest. You can feel your whole body heating as he continues to stare at you with such a ravenous hunger held within his gaze.

Slowly, you lower your arms.

“That’s it,” He purrs, sinking back beneath the water so that only his head is visible. “Do you have any idea how perfect you are?”

You swallow the sudden dryness in your throat, tongue darting out to wet your lips. “If you say so, then it must be true.”

“My Queen,” A devilish grin stretches across his features, eyes glinting as your fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pants. “Would I ever lie to you?”

The soft upturn of your lips as you shake your head says it all.

Seonghwa’s grin stretches wider across his face, tongue flicking over the bottom of his fangs. Carefully, he kneels on the bottom of the pool, cock throbbing beneath the water. With every inch of your bare skin that you expose, his hands twitch, body beginning to shake in need. The longer he goes without touching you, without feeling your body pressed against his own, the closer his sanity gets to snapping.

The moment your pants drop, the material pooling around your ankles, a curse in the old tongue escapes him. He tosses his head back, eyes fluttering closed briefly as he takes a deep breath in in an attempt to steady himself.

His hand settles over his cock.

“My Queen,” The title is but a moan against his lips. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

Slowly, he begins stroking himself, cock twitching in his grip. His eyes never leave your figure for one second, not wanting to miss a single movement of your body. Your bare skin beckons him, begging for him to touch, and cover you in his marks.

The small, bashful smile he can see playing at your lips has him squeezing his hand firmly around the base of his cock.

“Fuck- you’re so beautiful,” He pants, leaning back slightly in the water to admire you. “Just the sight of you alone makes me want to come undone. You make me so unbelievably hard, My Love.”

A soft giggle fills the air, setting his heart racing. He cannot prevent the low groan from escaping his throat as he sees you step in closer to the edge of the pool. The way your one hand comes up to slip a finger teasingly beneath the band of your bra makes his head spin.

“I cannot wait to have my hands all over you,” He sighs, eyes nearly fluttering at the mere thought as he slowly strokes over his cock. “I promise to show you a pleasure unimaginable, My Love.”

“You please me just by being you, you nincompoop.” You grin, toeing the edge of the pool.

“There she is.” A pleased laugh escapes him, his eyes crinkling at the sides. “There’s the queen I know and love.”

Slowly, you lower yourself onto the ledge, dipping your feet into the water. Your hands rest beside you on the rocks to steady you, glancing up to see Seonghwa stalking towards you.

The moment you submerge even just a part of yourself into the sacred pool, it’s as if the water becomes crystal clear. Your breath hitches as you catch sight of his hard cock practically throbbing between his legs, the tip an angry red.

“The feeling is very much mutual, My Queen,” He purrs, sliding his hands teasingly up the back of your calves. Extending his claws, he lets them dance along your skin before his fingers are hooking beneath your knees. A blink, and he pulls you flush against him, wrapping your legs around his waist as he rests his forehead against your own. “Your mere existence in my life is the most wondrous thing I have ever had the pleasure to experience.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, hands immediately finding purchase on his shoulders. His eyes seem to flash at your touch, shivering beneath your hold as you trail your fingers up his neck. Delicately, you cup his face, your breathing deepening as anticipation claws at your stomach.

A shiver caresses your spine as you feel him slide the claws of his one hand delicately up your side. Teasingly, he slips a finger beneath the band of your bra.

Seonghwa looks down briefly before darting his gaze back to your own. “May I?”

You nod, already feeling breathless just from such a simple touch. “You may.”

Without wasting a single moment, Seonghwa snaps the band of your bra. You barely even register how quickly he tears the offensive material off of your skin, the movements too quick for your eyes to follow.

A low, appreciative moan escapes him as his hands come up to cup your breasts.

“Fuck- you have such pretty tits, My Love.” He squeezes your flesh appreciatively, and you can feel the way his cock twitches against your core. Humming contently, he pushes them together, burying his face in your breasts and inhaling deeply. “You smell incredible.”

A pleasant shiver caresses your spine, hand coming up to thread lightly through his hair. A small smile toys at your lips, pushing your chest further into him as he nuzzles against you.

“All for you, My King.” You sigh, your eyelashes fluttering in bliss.

The low, rumbling growl that shakes his chest can be felt against your own. His dark eyes glance upwards to meet your own as his fangs flash.

“Mine.” He snarls, sinking his teeth into the swell of your breast, directly over your heart.

A loud moan escapes you, arching immediately into his touch. Your fingers tighten in his hair, tugging gently at the stands as you feel him growling against your skin. Your legs tighten around his waist as you feel him pull his head back only to begin laving his tongue over the fresh bite in the next second.

“Mmmh,” he hums, nuzzling your breast affectionately with his nose. “I can never get enough of you.”

Gently, his tongue flicks over the wound, staunching the bleeding with his magic. Tenderly, he admires you, thumbs beginning to circle over your nipples as his eyes hood over. Again, he squeezes your breasts, lips parting at the feel of them in his hands.

Rolling your hips against his own, you decide that two can play at this game.

The groan he lets out is music to your ears.

Finally, you release the hold you have on his hair, dragging your nails down the front of his chest. The way you feel him shiver beneath your touch has your lips twitching upwards smugly. Only, that smirk is immediately wiped off of your features as you feel him steal your lips with his own.

The kiss is desperate, his tongue delving into your mouth and needing to feel your own. His hips roll into your own, creating a steady pace as his one hand slips behind your back.

He pulls you closer, claws pricking against your skin.

“Do you have-“ he parts from you only briefly, “any idea-“ his fangs nip your bottom lip, “how long I’ve waited for this moment?”

His lips are back on yours, kissing you like you are the very air he needs to breathe. Slowly, steadily, he begins leaning you back over the rocks you rest upon, hovering over you as he greedily swallows all of your sounds.

“Long since-“ he pants, beginning to kiss down along your jaw, “have I dreamt-“ he nips at the skin of your neck, grinding himself against you once more, “of claiming you as my own.”

A loud whine of his name escapes you as you keen beneath his touch.

“That’s it, My Queen,” He hums, tracing his hands lovingly over your sides as he begins to kiss down your body. “Tell everyone who you belong to. Tell the universe who your eternal servant is. Cry out my name as I finally make you mine.”

You arch into his touch, eyes squeezing shut as you moan. His lips ignite a fire beneath your skin, tracing a path over the swells of your breasts until he wraps his lips around one of your nipples. Gently, he begins to suck on that pert little bud, his fangs teasingly scraping against the sensitive skin.

His cock throbs as you writhe beneath his touch, chest rumbling in contentment. His dark gaze watches your every movement, eyes locked on your every expression as he releases your one nipple with a wet pop. No time is wasted before he’s laving his tongue across your skin, eagerly moving to suck your other nipple into his mouth.

He hums, flicking his tongue over the pert bud.

Your hand returns to his hair, pulling him in closer against you as your hips shift against his own. You can feel your heart racing in your chest, and from the way you feel him smile against your skin, you can just tell that he can hear how it beats for him.

“My Seonghwa,” Your voice is but a pleased, airy hum. “My King.”

A snarl unlike anything you’ve ever heard before escapes him.

“That’s right, My Queen,” He places a final kiss to your nipple, grinning widely against your skin. “I am yours. I will always and forever only be yours.”

You practically purr down at him, eyes hooded in pleasure. “Mine.”

Seonghwa’s hips jerk against you, a shameless moan falling from his lips. His breathing deepens, low growls escaping him with every exhale as he continues to make his way down your body. His claws gently scrape against your skin, biting and sucking his marks into you as he slowly settles between your legs.

“I belong to you, My Queen.” The intensity of his dark gaze takes your breath away. “I always have, and I always will.”

Tenderly, he places a kiss directly over your clothed clit, humming as his eyes flutter in bliss. His fingertips trace up your thighs, admiring every inch of skin presented to him, and loving how you feel pressed against him. 

Turning his head, he begins to nibble at your inner thigh. Kisses are placed meticulously over such sensitive skin, tongue coming out to flick over each new mark he gives you. His touch is gentle as he settles your thighs over his shoulders, nuzzling closer and closer to your core as he slips his hands beneath your ass.

His eyes fall shut, inhaling deeply. A shudder wracks his entire body, lips parting as he begins to pant once more.

“Your scent is intoxicating, My Love.” A gentle confession as he noses along your clothed slit. His tongue darts out to flick against your panties, and he moans, whole body shaking in need. Not even a moment later, his eyes are flashing open, a desperation you’ve never seen before shining within. “Let me devour you.”

With those words, he shreds through your panties, burying his face between your legs.

The most guttural groan escapes him as he drags his tongue through your folds, the taste of you making his head spin. His grip tightens on your ass, claws pricking into your skin as he pulls you in closer to him. Lips press against your clit, kissing it gently before suckling eagerly at your precious little bud.

His hot breaths can be felt against your cunt as he rubs himself into you, his eyes fluttering with every drop of you he can taste on his tongue. For far too long he’s waited for this moment, and now that it’s here, he plans on savouring it. Not one part of you will go untouched - unloved - by him tonight, and as the sun arcs high across the sky, he knows that he has all the time in the world.

After all, he’s only just begun.

Slipping his hand from your ass, he guides his fingers up to part your folds. Eagerly, he thrusts his tongue into you as he opens you completely to him, his nose pressing firmly against your clit. He moans into you, swirling his tongue before he’s curling the muscle, flicking the tip against you as he presses in as deep as he can.

His eyes roll to the back of his head at the feeling of your thighs beginning to tremble around his head. His nose slides over your clit as he drinks from you, desperately suckling every drop that pours from you and begins to drip down his chin.

Whimpers and whines of his name fall shamelessly from your lips, hand returning to tangle your fingers in his hair. The way you pull him in closer only causes him to let out a pleased snarl against your cunt. The feeling makes your whole body tremble, moans beginning to rise in pitch as he brings his lips back up to suckle on your clit.

Shaking his head back and forth a few times, Seonghwa begins to flick the tip of his tongue over your clit. The hand he has gripping your ass squeezes your flesh appreciatively once more, tugging you even closer to the edge of the pool. Carefully, he slides his touch along the underside of your thigh, slowly lifting his fingers from you to sneak them beneath the water.

A moan reverberates against you as he wraps his hand around his cock, stroking himself in time with his movements over your cunt. His chest heaves as he squeezes the base of his cock. He's already so close to tipping over the edge from your blissful cries, to the way your thighs threaten to close around his head at any moment. The way you feel dripping down his chin, your sweet nectar bathing his tongue as your scent begins to cover him has his cock twitching, his own body beginning to shake.

You can feel a tight pressure building within your abdomen, your walls beginning to rhythmically clench around nothing as your thighs tense. Your hips begin shifting over his lips, grinding against his face in time with his movements over you.

“Fuck- My King! Right there-“ A broken cry escapes you, eyes squeezing shut as he continues to desperately suck your clit between his lips. “You’re gonna make me-“

A loud whine escapes you, moans falling in succession as you tumble right over the edge. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, whole body shaking as your back arches from the intensity of your orgasm. Desperately, your hands cling to his hair, fingers buried in his locks as you hold him to you.

A feral snarl greets your ears.

Without wasting a second, Seonghwa slips his tongue back down to your entrance. Only, this time, as he pushes the soft muscle into you, it doesn’t stop.

A scream of his name tears from your throat as you feel his tongue growing inside of you. The muscle thickens, the tip eagerly stroking along your sensitive walls as you come, your whole body shaking uncontrollably.

A stuttering moan escapes him, his eyes rolling as he buries his tongue within you. Finally, he no longer has to hold himself back, each exhale but a low growl as he feels your walls spasming around him. With every pulse of your warmth, every flutter of your cunt over him, his tongue grows, pushing deeper within you and filling you to the brim.

He jerks in his hand, deep, guttural moans reverberating against your cunt as he comes with you. The feeling of you surrounding him, of you crying out for him and him alone sends him right over the edge. His whole body shakes, heart close to bursting from how much love and desire floods his veins for you in this very moment.

Only now, he can never get enough.

“Oh… my fucking god!” You can barely prevent your eyes from rolling, that familiar pressure within your abdomen feeling as if it hasn’t receded in the slightest.

Whimpers and moans continue to fall from your lips, harmonizing along with his pleased growls as he massages the tip of his tongue against your inner walls. He seems to be drawing a pattern against your innermost sensitive spot, your breath stuttering with every press against you. You can feel yourself dangerously close to the edge once more, chest heaving as you attempt to catch your breath.

The moment he presses his thumb over your clit, circling that swollen little nub as his tongue continues to work inside of you, you scream. Your orgasm crashes into you, vision going white as you squirt all over his face. Your grip is like a vice, clinging to him as a lifeline as your whole body shakes in ecstasy.

The snarl that tears from his throat is nothing short of feral as he feels you flood his tongue. His whole body trembles alongside your own, the intensity and meaning of this moment washing over him as he finishes spelling his name in the old tongue deep within your cunt. He can feel his cock throbbing between his legs once more as he guides you through your high, each whimper and whine you give him causing an insurmountable sense of pride to swell within his chest.

Gently, he continues to circle your clit with his thumb as he begins to slowly retract his tongue. The way your breath stutters, high pitched moans still escaping you with every minuscule movement over your cunt causes the corners of his lips to twitch upwards. His hands are soon back on your thighs, lightly stroking his fingers over your skin to help ground you as you come back down to this moment here in time with him.

Finally, his tongue slides out of you.

“You don’t know-“ he breathes out, voice ragged as his chest heaves, “how fucking sexy that was.” His dark eyes flick to your own, laving his tongue teasingly over your cunt. “I want to make you do that again.” He flicks the tip of his tongue over your clit, loving how your whole body twitches in response. “I will make you do that again.”

“Seonghwa…” his name is but a breathless whine upon your lips.

“You’re so beautiful, My Queen, especially when you come for me.” He hums, continuing to clean you with his tongue. Not a single drop is meant to go to waste, and he makes sure of that. “You did so well for me.”

A pleased sigh falls from his lips as his eyes flutter shut, savouring this moment with you. He tilts his head to the side, gently resting against your thigh for the moment as his hands continue to rub tenderly against your skin.

Turning slightly, he places a soft kiss to your inner thigh. “Are you ready to become one with me, My Queen?”

The way he looks up at you through his lashes says it all. Nothing but tender love and devotion is held within his gaze, amongst something much darker. Something primal that sets your heart racing, yet still makes you feel safe and secure held within his arms.

A tender smile pulls at loving lips.

“I would love nothing more, My King.”

Seonghwa wastes no time in wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his embrace. Gently, he submerges the both of you beneath the sacred pool, nothing but your heads kept above the water. His grip is firm, one hand squeezing your ass while the other supports your back. The feeling of you wrapping your legs around his waist has his cock twitching against your core, a low, pleased growl escaping him.

Slowly, he turns toward the waterfall.

“I love you,” His hand comes up to tenderly cup your cheek, brushing his thumb over your skin.

You smile, mirroring his actions. “I love you.”

Leaning forward, Seonghwa presses his lips to yours. His movements are slow, wanting to savour this moment, as well as the feeling of you in his arms. The way your bare skin feels pressing right up against his own is making his head spin, anticipation clawing at his stomach.

Pulling away, he rests his forehead against your own.

A soft gasp escapes him as he feels you reach down between your bodies, grasping his cock in your hand. His eyes flutter as you begin stroking him slowly, squeezing your hand over the head of his cock a few times before circling over it with your fist.

Lining him up with your entrance, you make sure you’re staring deeply into his eyes. Teasingly, you drag the tip of his cock through your folds, moaning lowly as you bump the head against your clit a few times.

His breathing deepens, eyes the darkest shade of brown you’ve ever seen as he stares intently at you. He doesn’t want to miss a single movement, a single expression you’re giving him as he prepares for the moment he’s been anticipating since he first laid eyes upon you.

“Become one with me, My King.” You breathe out, pushing just the tip of him against your entrance.

His heart soars, nothing but warmth and love flooding his veins.

“With pleasure, My Queen.” A low growl escapes him, tilting his head to rest his forehead against your own.

A soft gasp escapes you as you feel him beginning to push into you. The head of his cock parts your fold briefly before he’s pulling his hips back slightly only to roll them forward. With each movement, he sinks deeper and deeper inside of you, his hands squeezing your ass. You can feel his claws pricking at your skin, your arms settling around his shoulders to pull him in closer.

“You feel incredible around me.” He moans, chest heaving as he attempts to maintain some form of control over himself. “So fucking soft… and warm.”

A pleased hum escapes you, nudging his nose with your own as his eyes flutter. The way you can feel him practically pulsing within you as he bottoms out has your lips parting in a moan.

“Feel so full with you inside me.” You hum, fingers threading through the hair on the nape of his neck. “Like you were made for me.”

His hips jerk at your words, a devious smirk tugging at his lips. 

“I was.” His grip tightens on your ass, his hips rolling up into yours. “I was made for you, My Queen. To love you. To cherish you… To please you.”

Again, he rocks himself into you, grinding his hips against you as he presses you firmly against himself.

Your eyes flutter shut, lips parting in another moan.

For a moment, he admires you. Nothing but love and adoration can be seen in his eyes as he reaches up to trace a finger over the side of your cheek.

“Do you trust me?”

You blink, not even having to think about your answer as you smile so tenderly at him. “With my life.”

The moment those words escape you, his lips are on your own. His hands tighten over you, pulling you flush against himself as he kisses you desperately. The way your legs tighten around his waist only makes his chest rumble in content, tongue parting your lips and eagerly swallowing your every sound.

Slowly, carefully, he begins walking towards the waterfall.

You cling to him as he moves, leaning in to trace your lips over his skin. Teasingly, you nip at his jaw, flicking your tongue over his pulse and hearing how he moans in response. His breathing deepens as you clench around him, his cock throbbing deep inside of you.

Pausing just before the waterfall, Seonghwa meets your gaze.

“My Queen.” He growls out, eyes flashing as shadows fall over his face. “For all eternity.”

With those words, he submerges you both beneath the flow of water.

The sensation only lasts a few second, for he doesn’t stop there. You grip him tighter, expecting to feel the cool sensation of stone pressing into your back at any moment. Only, the feeling of being laid atop of something plush and soft has you blinking your eyes open in mild surprise.

“From now, until the end of the known universe,” Seonghwa’s soft voice reaches your ears, his hand reaching out to trace gently over the side of your face as he stares down at you so tenderly. “This place shall always be ours.”

Your breath catches slightly, taking in the sight of a small cave hidden behind the waterfall. Blue and white crystals glow softly, illuminating the interior of the space. You seem to be resting on a large bed of moss, various flowers of your favourite varieties littering the floor.

Nothing but tender love and affection can be seen in your gaze as you stare up at the Fae before you. A look which is mirrored in his own eyes.

“Just lay back and relax, My Queen,” He smiles down at you, standing tall. His hands slip down beneath your knees, pushing your legs up gently. “Let me take care of you.”

Softly, he rolls his hips into yours, fingers digging lightly into your skin. His tongue comes out to wet his lips, some strands of his wet hair falling over his eyes and framing his face.

A soft hum escapes you, purposely clenching around him as you admire every bare inch of his exposed skin. You can see the tips of his pointed ears peeking out from his dark locks, his dark eyes locked on your figure. The muscles in his abdomen tense, and you can feel him twitch deep inside of you as he rolls his hips into your own once more.

His fingers tighten on the backs of your thighs as his eyes flash. Not even a moment later, he’s pulling almost all of the way out of you only to thrust back into you sharply.

Lowly, you moan, eyes rolling slightly as you clench around him.

The corners of his lips quirk upwards as another sharp thrust is made.

“Fuck- Look at how beautiful you are, My Queen.” He moans, hooded gaze taking in the way your whole body shakes with each calculated thrust he gives into you. “You take me so well; I never wish to be parted from you again.”

His pace is slow, making sure to bury himself deeply within you with each sharp thrust he makes. Seonghwa is sure to watch your every reaction carefully before he’s trailing his gaze down your body. His lips part as he watches his cock sink into you with each thrust, eyes fixated on the way your delicate warmth sucks him in.

A loud moan escapes you as he rolls his hips into yours after a particularly sharp thrust. Almost instinctually, you reach out for him, only for him to meet you halfway.

In an instant, your hands are pinned beside your head, fingers intertwined with his own. His looming figure towers over yours pinned beneath him, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he grinds himself into you. The way your whimper catches in your throat has a devious, and a little unhinged, grin pulling at his features.

“I’m going to fill you so full of me, you’ll always feel the impression of my cock buried deep within this tight little pussy of yours.” A deep rasp is all that escapes him, setting a steady pace as he thrusts into you. “Gonna fuck you so full of my love you’ll never question me again.”

A choked gasp of his name escapes your lips, ending on a whine as he snaps his hips against your own. Immediately, you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer as you squeeze his hands.

He squeezes back.

A wicked grin stretches across his features as he sets a brutal pace, fangs glinting in the light of the cave. The way your body bounces with each thrust into you makes his head spin, eyes eagerly drinking in every expression you make.

Countless moans and low curses fall from your lips. Your eyes are squeezed shut, head tossed back onto the earth as you feel him hitting that special spot deep within you with every thrust. You can feel that all too familiar pressure building within, and you gladly give yourself over to the feeling.

“You’re the most breathtaking sight I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing.” He growls, leaning in to lick up the side of your neck. “I could never get tired of such an earth shattering beauty beneath me.”

“Seonghwa-“ Your breath catches, a long moan escaping you as you arch into his touch.

“Come for me.” His voice is but a snarling command, desperate as he meets your gaze. “Come for me, My Queen. Let me feel you claiming this cock as I claim you.”

Seonghwa releases his hold on your one hand in order to slip his between your bodies. His thumb finds your clit, circling that little swollen nub as he pounds into you. Nothing but rumbling growls escape him with every exhale, begging you to fall apart for him as he pleases you with everything he is.

With one final flick over your clit, you scream his name.

The fingers you have still intertwined with his own cling to his hand as a life line. Your back arches from the earth, whole body shaking violently as your orgasm washes over you. High pitched whines and whimpers escape you, chanting his name like a mantra as you squeeze around him, thighs trembling as you hold him to you.

The moment he feels you clenching around him, his cock twitches. Seeing you come undone beneath him like this sends him right over the edge, and with one final thrust, he’s burying himself deep within you.

A loud moan of your name escapes him, chanting your title like a prayer as spurt after spurt of come escapes him. The way he can feel your combined releases leaking out of you and dripping onto his balls makes his head spin, his thumb still circling languidly over your clit.

He needs to make sure he’s providing nothing but the utmost pleasure to you that you can conceive of. He needs to see you falling apart again, and again, and again.

After all, His Queen deserves nothing but the best from Her King.

Slowly, you begin to calm down. You chest heaves, thighs still twitching as you feel him finally still his thumb over your clit. The way he presses his finger against that swollen little nub causes you to clench, whining from the pressure.

A deep chuckle reverberates from within his chest, his lips pressing softly against your own. Finally, he removes his thumb from over your clit, bringing his hand up to gently trace his fingers over your ear.

Your now very pointed ear.

“My Queen,” He hums, a pleased rumble shaking his whole being as he sees the faintest flash of fangs behind your parted lips.

You open your eyes, meeting his own dark gaze with a newfound intensity swirling deep within your own.

“Welcome home.”

[creamflix]

cw: mutual + guided masturbation, sort of angst. "just (childhood/best) friends" trope

the air was thick, too heavy for your tiny dorm room. it carried something unspoken, lingering on the line that you and satoru never dared to cross but always, somehow, ended up toeing.

"come on," he said, voice a little breathless, eyes sparkling with that dangerous mix of mischief and vulnerability that always got you into trouble. "we said we'd help each other out, didn’t we?"

his hands worked at his waistband, and your mouth went dry when he pushed it down, revealing pale skin that seemed to glow even in the dim light. your throat tightened. this wasn’t the same as hickeys or kisses, those could be brushed off as experiments. this was different. this was dangerous.

but you didn’t back out. you never could, not with him.

“you don’t have to be shy,” he murmured, eyes dipping to your fingers as they trembled over your own waistband. his voice softened, taking on that coaxing, honey-sweet tone he reserved just for you. “you’re so pretty like this, you know? all nervous and flustered. makes me wanna take care of you.”

your breath hitched, and his lips quirked into a sly smile. "there it is," he teased. "that little sound you make. keep going — wanna hear what other noises you’ll make for me."

"this is insane," you muttered, your voice shaky but not convincing enough to stop your hands from moving. the first touch sent a shiver through you, and you bit your lip, too aware of his gaze on you.

“nah, it’s not insane,” he countered, his voice lower now, tinged with something darker. "it’s us. we’re just...helping each other, right?” his hand wrapped around his dick, and the sight made heat pool in your stomach. “fuck, you look good like this. don’t stop — don’t you dare stop.”

you couldn’t even if you wanted to. not with the way he was looking at you, eyes flicking between your face and the slow, tentative movements of your hand. every groan, every hitched breath from him sent sparks down your spine.

“faster,” he urged, his voice strained now, his own hand matching your rhythm. “fuck, that’s it. so fucking pretty, just like that. bet you’d feel so good if i —”

“satoru,” you gasped, cutting him off. his name on your lips came out breathless, and he groaned, loud and unrestrained.

“say it again,” he demanded, his voice rough, his strokes quickening. "wanna hear you say my name when you — fuck, when you cum."

you tried to keep it in, tried to hold back the tide threatening to pull you under, but his gaze pinned you down, and his words stripped you bare. “satoru,” you whispered again, and the look in his eyes turned feral.

“that’s my girl,” he panted, his hips bucking into his hand. “fuck — keep goin', just like that. you’re close, aren’t you? i can see it — can feel it.”

it all blurred — the heat, the desperation, the way his voice broke when he moaned your name as he came, spilling over his hand and your sheets. the sight alone was enough to send you spiraling, and he was on you in an instant, pressing kisses to your tear-streaked cheeks, his mouth moving over yours like he was starving.

“you’re so good,” he whispered, his voice softer now but no less intense. “so fucking good for me. always.”

“this...this is what friends do, right?” you asked, your voice trembling, searching for reassurance in his eyes.

his gaze softened for a moment, a flicker of something more, before he leaned in to kiss you again, deeper this time. “yeah,” he murmured against your lips, even though the word didn’t quite feel like the truth. "this is what we do."

but the way his hands cradled your face and the way he whispered “i love you” as you both tried to catch your breath felt like anything but.

produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡

[sebastianswallows]

Nobody's Darling — 2. The Motel

— PAIRING: Benny Cross x F!Reader — SYNOPSIS: Benny comes across a girl walking alone in the middle of nowhere and offers her a ride to the nearest town. They stop at a motel. — WARNINGS: angst, a hint of smut (masturbation) — WORDCOUNT: 3k — A/N: Continuation of Part 1. After a couple of weeks I could finally work on this again! The story continues. I hope you enjoy it, my loves 😘

She wasn’t sure what she expected before she stepped inside. There were tables and dartboards, a pair of old jukeboxes, and a long bar all along the left side of the room. A few people were playing pool and a few more sat drinking, all wallowing in days-old sweat under the pale light. She almost stepped back out at the sight of all of this but he stood behind her. He eased her in with a hand around her waist.

“It’s ok,” he mumbled with the shadow of a smile. “Nobody’s gonna hurt ya.”

He led her in keeping his hand around her all the while. She scowled up at him, at his familiarity, but soon realised this was probably his way of making sure nobody else would touch her.

“Take a seat anywhere you’d like,” he softly said.

She took the table furthest from anybody else and hugged her purse tightly to her chest. Everyone else looked at them until, almost in unison, they stopped and went back to whatever they’d been doing.

“What do they have to eat around here?” she asked as he sat opposite from her.

“Burgers. Beer.”

“That’s it?”

He pulled his pack out and offered her a cigarette.

“No thank you…”

“They got peanuts at the bar, I guess.”

“Right,” she said with a scrunched nose. “So, where’s the bathrooms?”

He stared at her in silence as he lit another smoke.

“Well, I’d like to at least wash my hands before I eat…” In truth, she felt filthy head to toe after the night she’d had.

He braced his arms on the table and took a deep drag, then turned his head to gaze across the room. It gave her the chance to look at him in better lighting. He was deceptively young but aged around the edges — from the drinking and the smoking and a rough life in the wind. Every slip of softness was threaded through with something harsh. His lips were pillows surrounded by the blond bristles of a beard, his eyes were icy cold, fanned by thick long lashes, and although his hands were callused and beringed and heavy he held that cigarette as gently as if it were a lover’s dainty finger.

“In the back,” he muttered through a puff of smoke.

“What?”

“Ladies’ room.”

“Oh. Alright. I’ll, erm, be right back.”

And just as she got up he added with a smile,

“If there’s no soap left, try the men’s.”

She left him not thinking that she would ever do that, but she did. The ladies’ bathroom was well-used to the point she had to hop around to avoid dubious puddles. The men’s room was no better except they never seemed to use the soap. She dipped in and out of it as if the door could bite her.

By the time she returned to their table, he had already ordered and was chugging down his beer waiting for her. His eyes didn’t leave her as she sat down and started to inspect the meal.

“Is this it?” she asked with a curl of her nose.

The plate was chipped, the bun was shiny with grease, the pickles underneath were slathered in ketchup, and she didn’t have the courage to look further than that. He nursed on the bottle and hid a shy smile around the rim.

“I could ask them to get you somethin’ else.”

“You said they didn’t have anything else.”

He shrugged. “They could make it.”

“At this hour? The chef’s likely to —”

“They ain’t got a chef,” he shrugged. “Old guy, think his name’s… Tex. He tends the bar and the kitchen out back.”

“Yeah… All the more reason to stick with this,” she muttered to herself.

He chuckled and snuffed out the cigarette, and then his sooty hands grabbed hold of the burger, its insides dripping lazily onto the plate. She looked at him, and picked hers up, but immediately decided she’d rather try the beer first.

It was surprisingly decent, not too strong, flavourful… She drank until it sated her thirst and her throat was no longer burning. By the time the bottle was half-empty, the burger didn’t even seem so horrible anymore.

“What’s your name?” she asked with a sigh.

The boy raised his pale gaze to hers and slowed down his chewing. He seemed surprised that she had asked at all.

“Benny.”

“Benny,” she smiled. “Ben. Benjamin?”

He put the messy burger down and took another swig, looking at her over the edge of the dark bottle. “Just Benny.”

“I see…”

“How ‘bout you?”

She introduced herself but after that, the conversation settled into silence. They kept eating and drinking while the chime of the balls at the pool table filled the emptiness around them. She felt awkward sitting opposite him, trying to be polite, pretending that she didn’t quietly judge everything about him in spite of her friendly tone. Benny seemed to sense it. Did he just not like her asking about his name? She thought “Benjamin” to be quite dignified and she regretted not getting to tell him. But then again, perhaps he wouldn’t like that…

Or perhaps he didn’t like her staring at him. At his grimy hands holding those buns even as they seemed ready to fall apart, at how he held the bottle by its thin delicate neck, at his lips, his lidded eyes, the way his throat flexed as he swallowed. Soon she found herself quite uncomfortable and not because of the awkward silence anymore. He looked up when he was done, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and although she looked away he seemed to pause in thought at the sight of her. His chair scratched lightly across the floor as he leaned back to finish off his beer.

“It’s just oil and dirt,” he said with an awkward smile as he crossed his arms over his chest and started smoking “Ain’t gonna hurt me.”

“You’re probably sick of me, aren’t you?” she smiled. “You’d rather be over there at the bar, or playing pool.”

Benny’s arm tightened around himself and she tried not to stare at how nicely those muscles flexed. “And you’d rather be at home,” he said in a quiet rasp. “Takin’ a hot shower. Layin’ in a nice clean bed.”

She leaned back as well, her hand already reaching for the beer again. There was no meanness in his voice but she still felt guilty for wanting something better than… what his life seemed to be.

“So what were you doin’ out there?” he asked as he wiped the corner of his lips.

“I, er, got lost.”

He looked at her in that quiet way of his she’d already gotten used to.

“I fell asleep on my bus ride home,” she finally confessed, smiling sheepishly.

That got a chuckle out of Benny. “How long were you walkin’ for?”

“About an hour.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

“You look it.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Hey, you still look nice.”

“T-thanks…”

She twisted the bottle between her fingers as she cast her gaze across the bar, at the slowly rolling smoke and swaying patrons getting drunker. And from the corner of her eye, she could see Benny staring with those sad blue eyes, hunched over, lips pouting while the cigarette slowly burnt away, and there was such a pleading in the way he looked at her that she wanted against her better judgment to just go ahead, invite him home, and ask him to stay… But she knew better than to get involved with a troublemaker in a motorcycle club, even one that drove her back to town, even one whose voice was soft and tender.

“You said they had rooms?” she said after a while.

He nodded.

“Who — I mean, where do I —”

“Come on,” he said as he got up. “I’ll show you.”

“What about dinner?”

“What about it?”

“Should I just leave some money on the table or —”

“Don’t worry ‘bout that,” he smiled. “Tex owes me me.”

She somehow doubted it but before she could say anything Benny had gone around the bar, taken two keys from a shelf behind a canopy of glasses, and was on his way up the stairs. She wondered if this was his way of getting away from her for the night. Perhaps by morning he’d be gone, leaving her there to figure things out for herself.

The floors felt rickety and noises from the bar followed them however far they went. In a symphony of creaking and chirps from the cicadas outside Benny led her to a room at the end of the corridor on the second floor. A lone lightbulb came on to bathe the room a sickly yellow, cramped with a veneer of stains and spots and each surface looking a bit uneven. The mattress on the bed looked a bit caved in. The door to the bathroom was ajar and crooked. The little square window by the door was black with soot.

“Right, so, er… You good for tonight?” Benny asked, his face turned to her in worry.

“Oh, yes. I’m sure it’s fine,” she said and took a cautious step inside. “Thank you.”

He didn’t seem convinced and his frown turned a little sad. It made her feel bad for seeming so ungrateful.

“Beats walking in the wilderness at night,” she added with a smile.

“High praise,” he chuckled. “Water runs alright. There’ll be towels in that drawer there. It’s… Well, g’night,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. Just as he turned to leave he added, “If you need somethin’, I’ll be in room 5 just up the hall.”

“Alright,” she said as she wrapped her arms around herself. “Good night…”

And with one great stride, the lean tall shape of him was gone, closing the door after him.

She knew she couldn’t expect the kind of cleanliness she had at home but it was still uncomfortable to navigate this temporary bedroom. She put her suit up nicely on a wooden chair to be ready for tomorrow morning and laid out her stockings nearby. There were no slippers anywhere so she walked with her beaten dusty shoes into the bathroom and managed to clean herself up a bit before bed. Every surface seemed dubious to her, but Benny had been right that the water ran well. There was soap and towels too, and even if she could hardly call it a shower she managed to make do.

“I can’t wait to go home,” she whispered to herself on the verge of tears.

After checking twice that the door was properly locked, she laid down on the bed still in her slip. The pillows were thin and the springs of the mattress were noisy, but she curled up and made her best attempt to fall asleep.

Every now and then the popping sound of balls hitting each other at the pool table would reach her, and in between that the singing of crickets and the buzzing of flies filled the air. She tossed and she turned, breathing in the unwashed scent of musky pillows, rotting wood, old cigarette smoke and ashes… And even though she was exhausted and full after her greasy meal, she just couldn’t fall asleep. It wasn’t the pain in her back and shoulders, it wasn’t her feet aching from the walk, it wasn’t even how dirty she still felt or the fear that any moment one of those drunken men from downstairs would try to sneak in and rob her — or worse. She turned from side to side feeling at odds with herself.

This wasn’t the kind of bar she went to and it wasn’t the kind of place she spent the night. And Benny… Well, Benny wasn’t exactly the kind of guy she went for — but why was she thinking like that? He was only supposed to give her a ride home. That is if he didn’t just leave her there. He’d be entitled to, after how coldly she’d treated him all night. He’d bought her dinner, he’d gotten her that room, and still she couldn’t get over the fact that he was in her eyes a vagabond. A vandal, as said his jacket.

“I just have to make it through the night,” she told herself. “I wouldn’t even have to see him again tomorrow. I’ll wake up early and… and… he might not even still be around.”

She rolled onto her back and stretched with nervous energy, her arms covering her face. The thought of not seeing him again drove her strangely restless. Something about that boy made her want to touch him gently. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair, to look into his eyes for hours, to hold him and be held... Yes, he wasn’t her kind of guy, but underneath that cold hard leather and the denim and the dirt, she had seen a trace of sweetness, innocence, and hurt. And before she knew it she’d pulled the pillow down before her, tucked it between her legs, wrapped her arms around it, and held its tattered end to her neck as if it were somebody’s face. It comforted her just a little, made her feel less alone — like she’d felt when she held onto him on the back of his bike.

Her eyes opened in the dark, her own thoughts shocking her, but she had enough courage to admit that it was true. Sure enough, as soon as she stepped foot inside that ugly bar or laid down in that bed she only wanted to go home — but in the dark her deepest thoughts turned to how lonely, how harsh, how empty her life was... She’d never thought she struggled with living all alone, not until she’d wrapped her arms around Benny and he drove her through the night. She’d been afraid to hold onto him at first but by the end of their ride, she didn’t want to let him go. And now her arms felt empty and her head felt full and whichever side of the bed she turned on wasn’t right because nobody else was there.

With a sigh, she pushed the useless pillow away and sat up on the side of the bed. The cold floor soothed her feet but there was an itch inside of her, a restlessness that would not be assuaged by anything less than the real thing.

“You’re crazy,” she mumbled to herself. “I shouldn’t. I really, really shouldn’t…”

But she did. She got up, put her shoes back on, and wrapped the blanket around herself like a shawl. And before her mind could catch up with her body she was out the door.

The sounds were softer than before, more stilted, less precarious, and the noises from the distant bar had dimmed together with the light. Blackbirds were singing in the trees that swung beside the balustrade. The moon was dim and fogged with shallowed clouds but if she focused she could see the numbers on the door. When she finally reached room 5, she paused. What if he was sleeping? What if he wasn’t there? What if took this the wrong way? And most terrifying of all was — what if he wouldn’t care?

Her hand was poised to knock but stopped just short of it. No light was coming from inside but there was tension in the air as if the silence was still filled with something. It had a deliberate quality to it that made her hair stand on end and nearly scared her back to her room. It’s him that I’m afraid of, she thought to herself. What he would think of me. What he would say… But she refused to let herself feel that way and be scared of him again after she’d just gotten over it earlier that evening. He’s just a boy. A stupid, dirty little boy with blue eyes and long lashes…

Her fist tightened but she still didn’t dare to knock. And as she stood there caught between her fear and longing, something called to her from the other side. It was a stilted sound, almost a voice, but not quite something wakeful. He must’ve been asleep… Rather than knock and risk waking him up she chanced turning the handle and to her surprise the door gave way. Of course he’d sleep with it unlocked…

If he’s not awake I’ll go back to my room, she thought. I’ll let him rest. I’ll —

She opened the door enough to peek inside. It was dark but she could still make out something. Benny was on the bed. That’s where the sounds were coming from — quick breaths, low moans, and a sticky wet sound on repeat. A slow and languorous melange that made her body warm. There was a rounded sheen of muscle that moved in the shadows and each tug was coloured by a whimper vulnerable and loud.

She gasped quietly, mouth agape, and just then a bike rolled by outside. Its rumble drowned him out and its lights shone past her into the room to give her just a glimpse of Benny. He was lying in bed propped up against the pillow, messy head leaned back, full lips parted, lidded eyes. The jacket must’ve been somewhere else because he was left in a white tank top that strained against his chest. He was still wearing those dirty jeans but they were bunched low on his hips, and his hand was closed in a fist around —

He stopped moving.

“I-is that you?” he rasped.

The light from the bike outside was gone but she could feel his gaze on her, could hear in his strangled voice a weak, frail shiver, so at odds with how carefree he’d been.

“Yes?” she wanted to say but all that came out was a choked whisper.

“Come inside…”

[spiderhanzzz]

"I'M FUCKING SPIDERMAN, BABY" — han jisung.

who would've guessed that the guy you've been texting on tinder is spiderman?

word count: 2.7k

pairings: spiderman!han x journalist intern!reader

genres: humor, fluff, slight angst, comfort, kind of fake dating???

warnings: swearing, drinking, han is referred to as peter, reader and han are both uni students, mentions of vomit and violence, mild injuries, lowkey blackmailing if u squint, no use of y/n & gender neutral reader, han calls reader "pretty" once, usage of "baby" and "sweetie" too

playlist: les childish gambino, dare gorillaz, novacane frank ocean, i bet you look good on the dancefloor arctic monkeys, making the bed olivia rodrigo

a/n: my first fic raaahh!!! >:3 so so excited for u 2 read all these crazy ideas swirling inside my head

“...whoever provides the information on Spider-Man’s real identity will receive a cash prize of $1,000 US dollars…”

Your gaze bores to the glow of your old crappy TV. You haven’t had the time nor funds to purchase a new one, given that your only employment at the moment is a journalistic internship. It’s a good agency, the same one reporting on screen right now, and you acknowledge how hard you had worked to get the position. Nevertheless, you wish you prioritized financial gain over prestige, because now you’re stuck in your run-down apartment in New York, investigating the biggest issues for no money at all.

So you guess it’s not that big of a deal that you have no leads on who the hell Spider-Man is. If any higher-ups scold you, you could just hit them with those snarky remarks you’ve kept in the back of your mind all this time. How do you expect incentive from me if you’re not even paying me? I’m writing all your scripts because everyone else is a damn deadbeat! Maybe then they’ll start appreciating you.

You released a heavy sigh. All this nonsense is giving you a permanent headache, and it doesn’t help that you spend most of your free time scrolling mindlessly on your phone, which lights up with a new text notification the moment you start thinking about it. Perhaps you’ve spent so much time on your phone it’s becoming a part of your brain?

Peter Han: hahah tbh im pretty busy this week, but i’ll let u know for sure :)

A light shade of embarrassment tints your face when you catch yourself smiling at the text message. Usually Peter— the cute guy you’ve been texting on Tinder— never uses any emoticons. In fact, he’s been acting pretty uninterested and dry with you, which wouldn’t bother you as much if it weren’t for the fact that you desperately need a date to your friend’s birthday party next week.

Despite your humiliatingly destitute lifestyle, you pride yourself for your unmatched abilities to blend into any crowd. So like any other New Yorker, you decided to surround yourself with upper class Manhattan socialites. They like you; they don’t need to know about your financial status.

But with great power comes great responsibility, and with great social life comes great expectations. Last week it was a certain Kate Spade wallet with the intentions to match with the whole group of girls, and the week before it was table manners at a European restaurant (how in the hell were you supposed to know which fork to use for a crème brûlée?) This week, though, they gave you the most impossible task of all: get a date.

And you would. Truly, you would. It’s not like you’re particularly unattractive or unlikeable or anything like that. It’s just that you haven’t dipped your toes into the dating pool since university started, and you’re too far gone now. Your peers are fluent in these unspoken rules of dating and you don’t even really know what a situationship is.

Thus why you’re acting a little bit too desperate with Peter.

As you draft a response to him— is it better to use two or three y’s in hey?— your train of thoughts are interrupted by a loud thud on your balcony, followed by a shadow of vibrant colours. Your couch is situated safely so you can see right out the window, but angled in a way that someone outside wouldn’t be able to see you inside. You found this hack on social media on a particularly paranoid rush of nerves and thanked whoever that person was every single night.

Hesitating for a minute, you consider your options: a) attempt to fight off whoever is in your building, b) run out and alert security, or b) pretend like you didn’t hear anything and pray you don’t see your own face on TV tomorrow instead of Spider-Man’s.

If you were acting rational you would have chosen the last option. After all, it’s New York— if there’s anything prevalent here, it’s crime. But you are just so fucking bored. 

So you grab a baseball bat and swing open the window. 

“Get the hell off my balcony, dude!”

To your surprise, you stand face to face with a pair of dangling Converse All-Stars (really dirty ones, too). In your spur of confusion you come to the conclusion that whoever is sitting above your flat has the ugliest red socks you’ve ever seen in your life.

“What the fuck, man?” The person exclaims. “You bruised my knee!”

“That sounds about right for messing with my place, no?” You say, stepping out onto the balcony to get a good look at the stranger.

Just when you think you couldn’t get more disoriented, you realize the man you’re looking up to is not a stranger at all. It’s none other than Peter Han, in a full on Spider-Man suit.

“Peter…?”

The stranger, AKA Peter, breathes out a nervous laugh, raking his hand through his messy hair. Cute, you think.

“I think you mistook me for someone else. I’m not Peter.”

“Okay…” You say dubiously. “Why are you wearing a Spider-Man suit then?”

“I’m a… uh… cosplayer?”

When his eyes meet yours, the truth sings: he’s been caught. Peter Han is Spider-Man.

He’s terrified, you can tell. You don’t blame him— you would be too in his position. But it’s not just the fact that you know now; it’s also the mischievous glint twinkling in your eyes. Just what the hell are you thinking about that could be so amusing right now?

“W-what’s that look for?”

You can’t hold it in anymore. Maniacal laughter bursts out of you like you’ve been possessed by the spirit of a circus clown, and you have to hold on to the balcony railing to stop yourself from falling over. “Oh, Peter, you naive little fool.”

Peter’s brows furrow in confusion. You mentally curse yourself for admiring how handsome he looks when he doesn’t know what’s going on.

“Didn’t I tell you? I’m on the case to find out Spider-Man’s identity. Well, your identity, I guess.”

“You did not tell me that.”

“Yes, I did.” You cross your arms over your chest, shooting him a judgemental look. “You’d know that if you paid any attention to what I have to say.”

“Look, listen…” Peter braces his lean arms on the side of the window to lower himself on your balcony. Standing face to face, you note that he’s not as tall as you thought. “I know I haven’t been the warmest person to you, but I would literally get on my knees and beg for you to please not tell anyone about this.”

You hum in amusement, taking a step closer to him and raising your chin with undoubted sanguine. Like this, you’re almost the same height as him. “As tempting as that sounds, I’d rather have you doing something else for me.”

Peter chuckles in disbelief, eyes wandering to the sky as if to ask God what have I done to deserve this absolute nonsense? His palms rest upon your shoulders when he looks you dead in the eye and says, “You are not blackmailing me, sweetie.”

“That’s a lot of confidence for someone who has very blackmail-able secrets.”

“That’s not even a word!”

“Whatever.” You peel away his hands from your shoulders, straightening your posture and pulling your shoulders back. Peter faces you with a puzzled gaze as you offer him your hand, clearing your throat and stating, “Peter Han, I would like to make a deal with you.”

He doesn’t move. “And that is…?”

“Date me.” Seeing his face contort into an even deeper state of befuddlement, you follow up with elaboration. “One date to a party next week, and just a few meet-ups and texts to prove that our relationship is going strong. In return, I’ll pretend this whole exchange never happened.”

You’re both silent for what feels like hours, eyes fighting a silent mental battle, until Peter’s rough palms finally envelop your own. You’re aware of how crazy and delusional you sound, but you swear he pulls you in just a little bit closer.

“Deal.”

It’s your third year in the city, and you’re still not fully familiarized with the parties. Contrary to your expectations of drunk sweaty bodies dancing up on each other, your friends’ definition of parties consists of low warm lighting embracing their glittered luxury brand dresses as they swirl their fancy little martinis and cosmopolitans. You appreciate it, really, since you don’t have to use up your voice every other night just to shout over the deafening electronic music. However it’s much harder to appreciate the pressure it puts on you to behave a certain way— dance like nobody’s watching, but be aware that they are.

As you slowly walk to approach your friends (rule #32: no running in public spaces, you’ll look like an idiot) you feel a large hand brush softly against your waist. You turn to face your date for the night, warmth creeping up your cheeks as you take in his appearance. The only suit he’s wearing now is an all-black tuxedo with no tie, the first three buttons of his shirt opened. His black hair is brushed down smoothly, pieces of it falling just right to frame his glowing face.

“You clean up well,” you remark, circling your arm in his as you guide him towards the bar where your friends are sitting.

“I could say the same to you, pretty.” With the sleek black shoes he’s wearing, he’s a few inches taller. Slightly looking down on you, he gives you a subtle wink.

God, he’s such a heartthrob.

Your friends round up to give you hugs and kisses to welcome your presence, ever so politely. One of them acknowledges Peter’s companionship. “You must be the date.”

“That I am.” Peter returns the approach, showing off his adorably heart-shaped smile. “Peter Han, pleasure to meet you.”

The rest of the night runs as it does in your dreams the night before. By the time you had arrived, your friends were already buzzed enough to pay no mind to the way the leather is peeling off your only pair of formal shoes nor to the typo on your fake branded bag. Just the way it’s supposed to be.

Peter doesn’t leave your side the entire night, only lifting his arm around your waist to grab more drinks for the both of you. Occasionally you catch him absentmindedly rubbing your back, and occasionally you catch yourself wondering how someone who spends so much of his life fighting can be this gentle.

During a small bathroom break, one of your friends pulls you aside and whispers, “He looks at you like you hung the stars, you know.”

If you weren’t so swept up in the feeling of finally belonging under the subtle incandescence of a high-end bar in Manhattan, you would have noticed the way Peter’s eyes darken when he read a notification off his phone, or the way his lips press into a tight line when he gazes at you, laughing your heart away amongst your friends.

So you’re nothing short of confounded when he wraps his arms around your waist and leans down to mumble, “Baby, I have to go, there’s a work emergency. I’ll catch you later, alright?”

Your friends bid him farewell and you press a chaste kiss to his cheek, immediately turning away when you feel his body tense. When he walks out the door, you keep your eyes focused on how his soft hair loses its shimmer as he walks out into the night.

And you try to enjoy the warm liquid pouring down your throat for the fifth time tonight, savoring the way you can almost taste a bit of yourself pull away from reality each time, knowing at least one of the people around you will walk away tonight asking, “don’t you think that Peter is a bit cold?”

You sit on the edge of your balcony, something you never do unless you’re going through an existential crisis or drunk off your ass. Tonight it’s both. As usual, the distant sirens and exclamations of curses wrap a tight band around your head. You’re dizzy; either from the alcohol or situation or both.

The ocean of fluorescent lights from the streets of Queens drift your mind to recall just how you ended up here. Three years ago, you were a fresh high school graduate with a million opportunities in front of you. Now you’re broke and rely too much on the validation of your non-broke friends to fulfill the void inside you. The thought of eventually having nobody but yourself after you graduate makes you wanna vomit on a passerby’s head.

“Hey, baby.” A particularly resonant voice startles you out of your thoughts. Peter is swinging from your balcony railing, a pair of gray sweatpants and zip-up jacket slung over his Spider-Man suit. “Sorry for ditching early. I got pizza and flowers to make it up to you, though.”

He swings himself to sit down next to you, placing the box of pizza and bouquet in front of your crossed legs. When he pulls his mask over his head to remove it, your eyes glance over his cuts and bruises. They definitely weren’t there earlier.

“What happened?” You unconsciously bring a hand up to his face, brushing your knuckles tenderly over the sensitive areas. It’s only when he winces that you drop your hand back down to your lap.

“Some guy tried to rob a bank.” Peter shrugged, refusing to meet your gaze. “Turns out he brought a bunch of other guys to back him up.”

“Did you win, at least?”

Though his face is turned down, you can see Peter’s eyes crinkle into a smile underneath his tousled hair. “Yeah, ‘course I did. Who do you think I am, a loser? I’m fucking Spider-Man, baby.”

Ten minutes later you’re seated face to face, still on your balcony, with you dabbing a cotton pad onto his injuries. No words were exchanged; you just went in and out to grab your emergency medical kit and grabbed him by the chin. The pizza box is left unattended, but neither of you care much about the hunger puncturing your insides.

“Why do you look so down?” Peter inquires as you place a Hello Kitty bandaid on his cheekbone, giggling breathlessly as you do so.

“Do I?”

“Yeah.” He brings his own hand up to your face, brushing away the strands of your hair on your forehead. “I mean, you’re smiling now, but your eyes have this sadness to them. So, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

What the actual fuck? It literally takes you every nerve in your body to fight the urge to propose to this man right then and there.

“Hey, come on,” he urges, delicately pulling your face an inch closer to his. His thumbs run down your flushed cheeks, and it takes you a while to notice he’s brushing away your tears. “I said talk to me.”

“Well, you’ve probably already noticed that I’m different from my friends.” You wrap your fingers around his wrists. “I guess I thought I could pull off the whole socialite act, but I’m starting to feel so…”

When you can’t find the words, Peter finds them for you. “Lost?”

He presses his forehead to yours as you nod softly. “This might not be the best time, but I think you’re a star.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you shine the brightest amongst everyone else’s shadow. And your friends probably see you that way too. Also that I really, really want to take you out on a real date.”

“You were right, it’s terrible timing.” You fake pout, pretending as if your heart didn’t skip a beat at his words.

“Sorry, sorry!” Peter laughs, setting distance between the two of you once again. There is no inclination to pull him back, though; the space devoid of someone else finally feels comfortable.

“My answer is yes, by the way, you can take me out on a real date. Unfortunately no blackmail this time, though, I think I'm gonna quit that dumb internship.”

Both of you share a fit of affectionate laughter. The temperate scent of food merges with that of the flowers and caresses your senses as Peter opens the box of pizza. “If they ever make fun of you for not being rich, we can always stage one of them as Spider-Man. We'll even get $1,000 from it, then you'll actually be rich."

“I’ll take you up on that offer, Spidey.”

[soleilnewspaper]

Broken promises

Series masterlist

Summary: Regulus reminds you of a promise you made to him in childhood and how you have broken it. You return from a weekend trip to find Remus in the hospital wing. Sirius knows he can’t hide Remus’s condition for you any longer.

Pairing: platonic Regulus x fem!reader, poly!wolfstar x fem!reader

Warnings: Angst, fighting with friends, feeling inadequate, cliffhanger, talks of blood and bruises (from the full moon)

Word count: 1.9k

AN: I’m terribly ill and doc ordered me to say in bed, so sleep and write is all I have done today lol. Sorry it’s a little short. Thank you for your time :)

December 24th, 1970

Number 12 Grimmauld Place, North West of London, hidden from the eyes of muggles. The Black family took pride in the fact that they were hosting the Yule Eve dinner party. They were Pureblood royalty after all.

The house was decorated in festive decorations for the upcoming Yule celebrations custom of the sacred 28 society. The food alone could surely feed an entire orphanage.

A young Regulus, at a mere nine years old yet dressed far better than most adults. The scratchy material of his dress robes had been bothering him from the moment his mother had forced him into them. His black locs were combed back with magical gel to ensure he remained perfect for the night.

Clasped his small hand, you ran along with him. The frills from your pink dress made it difficult to much. It overwhelmed your body. You thought you looked like a large ball of cotton candy. Which your mother had scolded you for even thinking such a thing.

Trails of pristine white ribbons once worn in your hair now lay tossed on the freshly polished floors of the manor. Your house elf had been ordered by your mother to ‘tame’ your hair earlier that night. Hours of work had been in vain as your locs had bounced back only moments ago. Sliver jewerly adorned your neck sparkling in the candle lit hallway.

Kreacher had turned a blind eye to your ‘escape’ from the dinner. Neither of your mothers had noticed your absence yet. Something which both Regulus and you were beyond grateful for. Merlin knows what your punishment would be for daring to participate in such childish behaviour. For, being a pureblood meant you never were a child. You were simply an investment.

Regulus was the spare, the second choice, a precautionary measure that his parents had taken should Sirius prove to not be eligible. You, on the other hand, were born a girl. Which meant you were to be married off the moment you were of legal age. Although you had heard the stories of girls who had been forced to marry long before that. Your potential husband would be most likely related to you in some way.

Your mother would often gossip about how the Black Family ‘kept things in the family’ in reference to how cousins married each other frequently. However, truth be told, all pureblood were related in some way or other. Pureblood had been facing excitation for centuries. In order to keep their lines ‘pure’ they needed to dip their toes into the pool of incest. The sacred 28 all crossed over if you were to look close enough. Which is why you thought your mother to be a hypocrite.

Regulus pulled you into a nock in the attic. Whilst you were still in a fit of giggles.

“My lady.” Regulus pretended to bow, taking an old feathered hat on and then off his head.

“Why thank you, kind sir.” You responded through a set of giggles. Giving him a curtse in return, just as your mother had taught you.

Regulus took your hand and guided you to sit down with him on the floor, placing his suit jacket down to avoid you getting your dress dirty. You picked up the ends of your dress to try make it easier on you to sit down. A proof sound was heard the second you touched the floor. As you quite literally fell on your ass from the sheer size of the dress. Your mother was a beautiful woman but her style was eccentric to say the least. She had dressed your sister and brother in a similar fashion, both of who were being good children and still in the dining hall.

“Will you consider promising me something, Y/N?” The boy’s language was far better than most adults you knew. Pureblood society doing of course. You were both already fluent in Latin and Greek while Regulus knew French as well. It being his family’s main language after all.

“Whatever do you mean, Reggie?” You asked in the same tone. Frowning your small brows in confusion.

“Would it be to much to ask, if you could promise to be mine forever.” His statement confused you at first causing him to explain further. “We both know our mothers will marry us off one of these days, but please choose me, your friend first.”

“As long as you promise to choose me always and forever.” You smiled back at him.

“Best friends before lovers?” Regulus asked you unsure of himself.

“I would rather have live a life with no love, than live one without you as my friend.” You took ahold of his hand gently.

“I do not wish to condemn you to a love of loneliness, Y/N.” He dropped his hand from yours, fearing he was asking you too much with your friendship.

“Reggie, with you by my side, I could never be lonely.” That had earned you a smile from him, a one larger than you had ever seen before.

Present time

Regulus Arcturus Black would never be your lover. No, your bond proceeded that of romantic expectations. Your bond would always be platonic, but it would be the deepest bond you would ever have. For your souls wore bind together in no way a lover could understand. Even if it was a childish desire to ask for your loyalty forever. To chose him over everyone else in the world. You knew, that in truth, there was only one person he had asked you to never choose over him. His brother. Which is exactly what you had done. The one thing he had begged of you all those years ago, you had done without hesitation. Breaking his trust doesn’t even cover the cost your newfound relationship had taken to your oldest one.

He was not angry nor was he upset with you. Regulus felt hurt, betrayed even. In all his life, he had lived with the expectation that he would always be second best. Only this past summer had his parents began to pay attention to him after Sirius had left home. Officially disowning their eldest, made Regulus their heir. He was only valued once Sirius was gone. For once in his life, people had began to look at him instead. It had been a long time coming, since the moment Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor. The light slowly began to shift to the younger brother. Yet, never completely, not until now. Within the span of a few weeks he had become the star of the family. A fact which had only served to make him bitter because he knew the care of his family was conditional. For they had hardly offered him a look before he was proved to be their last hope of salvation.

The worse part was Sirius believed Regulus was the first choice. When in fact he had never been someone’s first choice in anything. That is excluding you. Regulus had always been your first choice. It was something which he had come to held dearly in the span of his fifteen years of life.

Despite being a few months younger than Sirius, and almost a whole year older than Regulus. You had chosen to be his friend. As children, your mother urged you to make connection with Sirius, but you never did. Regulus was who you chose to spend your time with. Up until Hogwarts neither one of you had any real friends besides each other. Barty did not run in the same circles as the two of you before Hogwarts. The rosier twins didn’t form a friendship with you until Regulus’s first year at Hogwarts which had been their first too.

He had only asked one thing of you, and you could not give him that. You now understood his anger. Yet you still felt defensive as you were in a vulnerable state.

“You do not get to held a childish promise over my head!” You yelled, your voice reaching across the common room.

“It is not about the promise, Y/N.” Regulus stated with lips pulled into a thin unreadable expression.

“Then what is it about, Regulus?” Anger severed through your throat as you spoke.

“Rage does not consume me for the mere fact of your entanglement in a romantic relationship. As one of your closest friends, I comprehend that it is beyond my jurisdiction to dictate the auspices under which you choose to allocate your precious hours. Yet, I implored solely that you not date my own brother.” Regulus paced around the room, his hand running through hair multiple times before he turned to face you directly.

“For it is your preference that leans towards him, and no longer me. He is accustomed to being selected first and foremost in all things. I am not. Barty, Evan, Pandora and you were mine; untill you chose me over me. The one thing you promised, swore, you would never do.” Regulus voice no longer held anger, it was filled with hurt. He pointed a a finger towards your chest to further his point. Breathless as he spoke.

“Reg…” You moved towards him but he flinched away from your touch. “My relationship with him does not change the friendship I have with you.”

“Liar.”

“You say that, yet you continue to be with him. To chose him.” Regulus walked away from you but you followed without hesitation.

“You are being over dramatic.”

“Am I, so am I to just discard the only person who truly understands me. In order to allow you to satisfy your desires.” Regulus used the boot of his shoe to kick the table lightly.

“You do not mean that.” Tears were beginning to form in your eyes.

“What other choice have you given me?” Regulus breathed out barely forming words.

“I never intended to lose you, Reg.”

“Oh, well then everything is sorted. Is it not. Far be it that I have feelings and reactions to your actions.”

“Please, stop, I beg of you.” Your voice was pleading with him now.

“Would you do one decency?”

“Anything.”

“Tell me why did it have to be him.” You heard the crack in his voice as he spoke. Arms at his side and legs planted on the floor.

You squeezed your eyes shut at his question. Knowing whatever your answer would only serve to hurt him further.

“I fell for him. I tried not to. Believe me I did, but I cannot ignore my feelings anymore. Please forgive me.”

“Forgiveness does not come easy, Y/N.” Regulus eyes roared with anger, but you knew there still lay hurt behind them. “But I don’t want to lose you.”

“Does that mean…” The steps you took towards him were careful and precise to not spook him with your actions.

“I would could never live without your friendship. It pains me so, but I know I have to forgive you, but do not ask me to forgive him.”

Tears pooled in your eyes as the words left his cold lips. Before another moment could pass, you wrapped your arms around his torso. To your surprise he accepted your affection. He had never been one to allow affectionate gestures, it simply was not his way of expressing himself. Yet, in the rare moments when he allowed himself to let another in, his warmth would be unlimited.

“Can I assume I have my best friend back?” Your voice was muffled by Regulus’ green Qudditch jersey.

He pulled away from the hug but kept physical contact with you by placing both of his hands on your sides.

“You never lost me.”

Sounds of students began to fill the common room as they returned from the pitch and great hall. Undoubtedly complaining and/or talking about the lack of victory Slytherin had acquired in today’s events.

“One last thing, Y/N.” Regulus spoke in a hushed tone to avoid being interrupted or ease dropped on.

“Anything.”

“If my brother hurts you, there’s not a place in the world he’d be able to hide from me. Blood may be thicker than water, but my loyalty for you will always outweigh my loyalty for him. Never doubt that for a moment.”

“I appreciate it, but that’s not necessarily-“

“Believe me when I say, negotiation is not an option here. You will lose this argument.” Regulus’s dark eyes were completely serious and his face showed no signs of amusement.

“Is your plan to treat me like a child of divorce?”

“Mmm, we’ll work on the arrangements later.” Regulus smiled at you, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You know you will always be my best friend, right?” You asked taking his hand in yours.

“Don’t tell Barty that, he might kill me.” Regulus leaned into you.

“Well we would’t want that, now would we.”

The life of a pureblood had taught you many things. None of which had seamed to prove helpful in any way shape or form for your current situation.

While you might have seamed to patch things up with Regulus for the most part. Although you still were treading in dangerous waters. At least you could sleep soundly knowing he was willing to come around to the idea. In time, of course.

Yet, you still faced another dilemma; your relationship. Secrets were being kept from you, that was obvious enough, but what the secret was remained a mystery to you.

It didn’t help that Sirius and Remus seamed to have no intention of letting you in on it anytime soon. Taking into consideration how much history the two had, you continued to feel out of place in your own relationship, and feared for how much long you could take it.

For the past three days, you had to be condemned to visiting your oh so loving family. Torture did not even begin to cover it. Though you knew there were pureblood children in worst situations. The Blacks were a prime example. Leading you to appreciate your dysfunctional family because at least they had never used an unforgivable curse on you. To say the bar was low would be an understatement.

So as you walked through the castle walls having returned from your trip. Your mind began to wonder. However, your moment of peace was short lived as you passed the Hospital Wing.

You couldn’t see much but you could see Sirius who was walking towards the door. Through a series of lies, excuses and distractions, the boys had managed to occlude you from Remus’s condition. Yet, your weekend away just so happened to be a full moon. A particularly horrific one in fact. No chance were they going to be able to hide it from you now.

Sirius’s sliver eyes were accompanied by purple eye bags from staying up all night with Remus. Hair fell in disarray and tangles were visible in his usual elegant locs. He appeared gaunt, almost as if the life had been drained out of him.

Upon seeing you, a serge of panic ripped through his entire being.

“Oh Salvar.” You rushed towards him in panic searching his face for signs of injury. It only worked to make him feel more guilty than he already was.

“S’m nothin’.” Tiredness and worry were evident in his voice.

“Sirius, do not take me for a fool.”

“I’m not, honestly, just-“ Whilst barely finding the energy to form words, you interrupted him with rage already approaching.

“What’ll be this time, huh?” Hands fell from his face leaving a cold chill. You crossed your arms in front of your chest, you were beyond rage, you were done.

“It’s not like that, baby.” His voice begged for sympathy but you refused to show the effort he had on you.

“Where’s Remus?”

Sirius’s eyes widen at the thought of you seeing Remus in his current state. You stepped forward to enter the hospital wing causing him to plant himself in front of you. Using his height to block your view. Your flight or fight activated. Making use of the large space of the room you tricked him by making him believe you were headed one way and then pushed past him in the other.

As soon as you had escaped his gasp, Sirius ran after you in panic. However, with our tired he was, he didn’t have the strength to carry through.

Remus lay curled up on the hospital bed. Bandages surrounded his body in multiple places. Most seamed clean but others had large red stains from blood. Bruises and cuts decorated his body like Christmas lights. The beautiful brown eyes that you had come to cherish so dearly had taken on a dull hue. With dark circles surround them and bloodshot eyes. His hair stuck up in all different directions filled with dirt and a sneer of blood.

A whine escaped the thin werewolf when he turned on his side to see who had entered. His eyes struggled to focus for a few moments to depict your figure, but when he did, he swore he felt just like he did before people knew about his secret. Ashamed, scared, horrified all mixed into self loathing.

“Remus?” You managed to choke out through the tears that had began to form in your eyes upon seeing him.

“Hey, dovie.”

Taglist: @maraudersforlife2005 @xlxnq

[tkaulitzlvr]

hii, hope you’re doing well :) love your stories <3

ofc you absolutely don’t have to write this one if you don’t want to!

just had a lil thought of some form of enemies to lovers with tom (2009-11) where reader travels with the band on tour & etc & one night while they stay at a hotel somewhere reader is in the pool at night (in like a bikini or some form of swimwear) for like a midnight swim but at some point tom gets in as-well & it’s just them (they can have some bickering or whatever) but it would eventually result in them doing it in the pool 🤭

again you don’t have to do this one if you don’t want to buy i just thought i would ask :)

ty for reading!!

LATE NIGHT - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: you and tom had never got on well, some unresolved tension meaning the two of you always clashed. so, when you decide to go for a late night swim alone, what will happen when tom has the exact same idea?

content: angst & smut

a/n: omggg this might be my fav request i’ve ever gotten so thank u sm anon, literally screamed when it came thru this whole scenario is so perfect, as u can imagine i enjoyed every second of writing this, hope u enjoy!!

the night is warm, this totally expected for august in southern spain, where tokio hotel were for this part of their world tour. adjusting to the different climates that i experience around the world is something i am yet to get used to, even after coming with the band since they had started accumulating the fans to warrant travelling from country to country to perform. one day, i would be in somewhere in russia, completely submerged in blankets and still cold, then the next, i would be met with the sweltering warmth of southern europe, overheating despite my clear lack of clothing, only my bra and panties covering me. but tonight, the heat was unbearable, my body sweating no matter what position i tried to fall asleep in.

the rhythmic ticking of the small clock situated on the wall in front of me didn’t help - the sound seeming to get louder each time, the time that it displays reminding me that i should be sleeping. but, i know that it isn’t going to happen anytime soon, sitting up frustratedly with a loud sigh.

i stand up, walking toward the large glass doors leading to my balcony, pushing one open slightly so that i can squeeze through. it is even hotter outside, my body being hit by an intense surge of heat as i step onto the balcony, nearing the edge. my arms rest on the railing, eyes taking in the view in front of me - thousands of lights in each direction from the city ahead. however this doesn’t catch my attention as my eyes fall to the large pool below, a decent sized jacuzzi built into it. it is empty, the body of water completely still, small lights around it’s exterior giving away its tranquility. it could cool me down - there’s no way i’m falling asleep with my body this hot.

my feet turn on their heels, stepping back inside my room, closing the glass door behind me as i head to the small walk in closet in the corner. my hands fumble around, fingers finally touching the small bikini that i am looking for. i take it out, stripping from my clothes, before slipping on the skimpy red bikini, tying my hair in a loose bun. i take a towel from the bathroom, sliding on the first pair of sandals i see, before quietly exiting my hotel room and walking to the elevator, entering it as it is expectedly empty.

the elevator doors slide open as i am met with the empty lobby, the receptionist being the only person in sight. i give her a small nod, walking outside to the pool area. as i near closer, i sigh in relief, seeing that it is still empty, placing my towel on a random lounger. i slide my shoes off beside it, walking towards the pool. testing the temperature, i dip my toes in, shivering slightly at the coldness, the feeling relieving me as i already feel myself cool down. deciding that it is fine to get in, i allow my whole body to slip into the water, my head staying above as i begin to swim over to the shallow end, finally stopping once i reach the edge.

my eyes glance over to the jacuzzi just a few metres away, contemplating whether it would be a better option than the pool. it would certainly make me sleepier, and, reminding myself of how late it is, i decide to get in, quickly stepping out of the pool and climbing into the jacuzzi. the water is much warmer, bubbles emerging from beneath as i take a seat, my entire body relaxing. i feel myself becoming tired as i spread out, laying my head backwards and resting it on the edge. my eyes gaze aimlessly at the stars above, feeling completely content, the water removing any tension in my body as i continue to watch the sky.

but, it only takes a few minutes for my head to whip upwards, becoming quickly alert as i hear footsteps nearing the pool, wondering who else would want to be here this late into the night.

i squint a little, trying to make out the silhouette , an audible groan escaping my lips once it enters the light, letting me work out who it is. broad shoulders, slim yet muscular frame, lips adorned with a single metal piercing - i could recognise him from anywhere. the familiar jet black braids move toward me, a confused expression taking over his face once he spots me.

“the fuck are you doing here?” he asks, setting his towel down and pulling his t-shirt off, revealing his perfectly formed abs, muscles in his biceps flexing as he does so. he was hot, but i hated him, his attractiveness only making me despise him more. after my gaze lingers on his torso for a couple seconds, i look upwards, seeing that he is still focused on me, waiting for a response as he walks towards the jacuzzi.

i roll my eyes, beginning to get up, not willing to engage in any conversation with him right now, especially one in which no one else is involved, the atmosphere already tense.

“doesn’t matter. i’ll go.” i say, standing up, water dripping from my body. his eyes scan my figure, tongue poking from his lips slightly as he messes with his lip piercing, drinking in every curve, my boobs admittedly almost spilling out of my bikini top. yet i didn’t care when i had put it on, not expecting to see anyone else at the pool, let alone tom. his eyes still glued to my cleavage, i scoff, putting one foot out of the jacuzzi.

“my eyes are up here, perv.” i remark as he finally removes his gaze from my chest, a small laugh leaving his lips.

“don’t flatter yourself sweetheart.” he states, stepping into the jacuzzi, sitting down as the water covers most of his body, the top of his chest still on show. he stretches his arms out to the side of him, resting them on the edge, tilting his head to the side before continuing. “why are you leaving?”

“cause i know you’ll piss me off. you already are.” i respond, standing beside the water, preparing to walk away.

“really? don’t be so dramatic. get in.” he says, lifting one hand up and motioning to the empty space in the jacuzzi opposite him, his eyes not leaving mine.

“i’ll pass. have fun tom.” i say sarcastically, finding my towel on the lounger, wrapping it around my small frame, now shivering from the lack of warmth the water had brought me.

“you know, to say you’re the most stubborn person i know.” he starts, his tongue running across his bottom lip. “you’re leaving pretty fast. how come you’re letting me win so easily?”

i stop in my tracks, turning around to face him, wondering why he is so eager for me to stay.

“why do you care?” i question, my expression turning sour.

“i don’t.” he shrugs. “just don’t understand why you’re in a rush to leave. you’re not scared of me, are you?”

i scoff at his question, noting the way he is trying to get under my skin, and, much to my frustration, it is working. i know that if i leave, that means i have let him win. and, he is right. i am stubborn. it is this fact that prompts me to turn around, throwing the towel off of my body as i walk towards the jacuzzi, hesitantly getting back into it as a satisfied grin spreads across tom’s face.

“scared my ass.” i mutter, shaking my head as i fold my arms, irritated by his ability to anger me from the smallest of words.

“hm? sorry, didn’t catch that. you gotta speak up.” he taunts, tilting his head as he raises his eyebrows, a knowing smirk tugging on his lips. he stretches his arms out further as they rest against the stone decorating the edge of the water, adjusting his position and getting comfy, awaiting my response.

“just shut up. jesus fucking christ.” i scold, facing away from him, tempted to get up and leave once again. but i can’t give him that satisfaction, so i stay put, a tense silence between us as he surprisingly listens to me.

my body jolts upwards in shock, feeling his foot brush against mine from underneath the water as he sinks further into it. i make eye contact, scowling at him as he holds his hands up in defense.

“sorry.” he mumbles, his body slowly drifting closer towards mine. i ignore it, letting my head fall backwards, attempting to relax, figuring that if i am stuck here with him, i may as well try to make the experience as comfortable as it can be.

but the second his leg brushes against mine, with too much force to be unintentional, it is clear that his previous movement was definitely not an accident. i look at him, seeing that he has moved much closer, now to the left of me, instead of directly opposite me as he previously was. i stay quiet, trying to pay no attention to his presence despite the noticeable feeling of his eyes burning into my figure.

“red looks good on you.” he says into the silence, my eyebrows furrowing in disbelief, unable to fall for his attempt at complimenting me.

“what?” i ask, now turning to face him, his eyes dark.

“you know what i said.” he states confidently, gaze never leaving mine as his teeth momentarily sink into his bottom lip.

his body inches closer to mine as my own is frozen in place, unable to move or even comprehend what is happening. his finger grazes the knot of my costume from beneath the water, slipping underneath the material briefly before playing with the hem of my bikini bottoms, my hips jolting a little at his touch. he smirks at my reaction, removing his fingers and watching the way my face drops, partly in disappointment.

he sees the desperation in my eyes, dipping his head downwards so that his lips are just below my ear.

“you know you don’t hate me at much as you let out.” he whispers, his breath tickling my neck as i feel him smile against it, goosebumps beginning to form over the skin.

my mouth parts open, no sound escaping from it as my chest rises and falls at a faster pace, completely flustered by his words. he can clearly see this, humming lowly as his face remains inches away from my neck, his slow breathing fanning over it.

“in fact…” he begins, his lips brushing over the skin as he dips his head further downwards. “i don’t think you hate me at all, do you?”

i say nothing, breath hitching once his lips finally make contact with my neck, planting slow, open-mouthed kisses over it. my hands find the back of his head, fingers playing with his dreads as i push him further into me, his kisses become sloppy, his teeth grazing over the skin.

“knew you always had something for me, sweetheart.” he teases, hands grabbing the flesh of my thighs as he uses them to guide my body, placing me on his lap. my chest is now out of the water, lower half completely submerged as it sits on top of him, faces inches apart.

he takes my lack of response as an invitation to continue, attaching his lips to mine in a rough and sloppy kiss. i waste no time in kissing back, overcome with an unforeseen desperation, my hatred for him fuelling desire from within me that had never been ignited - not like this. but i used my anger towards him, keeping it as a motive to kiss him harder, pressing my lips harsher into his. he groans into my mouth, his hands finding my ass as he kneads the flesh, using it to push my hips against his, my lips faltering against him.

the heat around me from the warmth of the night is now nothing compared to the one spreading between my legs, my need for tom only growing as i begin to create my own slow rhythm on his lap, grinding so that his clothed dick, which i can feel hardening beneath me, hits my clit perfectly.

my head falls backwards, unable to kiss back as my hips continue to work against his. his lips find my chest, biting and sucking on the parts of my breasts exposed, my nipples hardening under the fabric of my bikini. he sees this, his fingers running over them as i shudder. his hands reach to undo the knot holding my bikini in place, about to tug on it before i protest.

“you can’t…” i breathe out, not slowing my movements. “someone could see.”

“but they won’t.” he states, keeping his head against my chest, hands staying on my back. “you just have to stay close to me, yeah?”

he tugs on the material, watching as the top half of my bikini falls off, revealing my chest to him. a smirk spreads across his face as he takes it all in, hands cupping my boobs as he squeezes them a little, a low whine falling from my lips in response.

“so fucking hot.” he breathes out, detaching his hands from my breasts, moving them to my back and pulling my chest so it is flush against his. “see? no one but me gets to see. exactly how it should be.”

he whispers the last part as i roll my eyes, becoming visibly impatient. he picks up on this, bucking his hips as i rest my hands on his chest, lifting myself off of him as he takes off his trunks, letting them rest at his knees, not bothering to remove them fully. he moves my panties to the side, the water rushing to my heat as i shudder a little.

he strokes himself a few times, positioning himself at my entrance. “you sure?”

his hands rest on my lower back, looking upwards at me, his expression strangely concerned, my consent mattering to him way more than i had first anticipated. i nod my head, letting out a confident ‘yes’.

that is enough for him as he slowly pushes inside of me, the water giving a foreign feeling as my thighs clench. he lets out a long groan, watching the way my mouth falls open, eyes screwing shut. i feel his tip bottom out inside of me, my walls stretched out further than they ever had been, none of the guys that i had been with being as big as tom. though the discomfort soon subsides, my face twisting in pressure as i nod slowly, giving him the green light as he begins to thrust upwards into me at a steady pace.

“where did the stubbornness go, hm?” he teases, knowing that my entire body is there for him to ruin, long past the point when i would argue with him. “thought i pissed you off, doesn’t look like it right now.”

i let out a loud moan, that the only sound i am able to make as he is hitting angles that have never been felt before, no one ever able to make me feel like this. hell, if i had known his dick was this good, i would’ve stopped hating him years ago. his tip brushes against my sensitive spot, my walls clenching around him as i squeeze my lips shut, trying to stay quiet as i silently remind myself of where we are - anyone able to catch us right now.

“you like that, huh?” he asks, repeatedly hitting the spot over and over as i bury my face into his shoulder, biting it roughly to keep the moans at bay, feeling them dangerously close in the back of my throat. “don’t hide those pretty moans, wanna hear them baby.”

his hands push me away from his shoulder, my head now upright as i can no longer contain my moans, letting them pour from my lips, tom nodding his head slowly.

desperate to reach my climax, i meet his thrusts, hips rotating in an attempt to increase the friction. this clearly has as much of an effect on tom as it does me, his head tilting backwards as he lets out a low groan.

“just like that baby. fuck- yeah, keep going.” he praises, this only fuelling my stamina, his thrusts becoming slow and weak as he lets me do most of the work.

the knot in my stomach tightens, so much that i know i cannot hold on any longer. tom’s hands squeeze my waist, fingers and nails digging in, the slight pain mixed with pleasure turning me on even more.

“getting close.” i manage to say, bringing my lips to messily collide with his, my movements sloppy and uneven. he kisses back, groaning into my mouth as he slips his tongue in. he starts thrusting upwards at a rapid pace, my ability to kiss back faltering as i feel him twitch inside of me.

“me too. cum with me, yeah?” he says against my lips, one harsh thrust into me all it takes for me to come undone, feeling him shoot his load into me. he moves in and out slowly, fucking it into me, his teeth firmly sinking into his lip as his eyebrows knit together. i collapse into his chest, breathing fast and shallow as my entire body shakes, his thrusts coming to a stop, yet he remains inside of me. his lips lazily kiss my shoulder, hands rubbing my back.

“why didn’t we do that sooner, hm?”

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[em1i2a3]

Twin Size Mattress (Bjorn One Shot)

Bjorn x fem!reader

Authors note: Hello! I am definitely new to this. I haven’t written in quite a few years, and just like many hobbies, when you haven’t done it for a while the skill dwindles. So I was hoping I could write something to share on here for the first time, to start dipping my toes back into the pool as most people would say. Like everyone else who is probably lurking these tags, I was pretty enamoured by Bjorn in Alien Romulus (I also went to watch it multiple times in theatres but that was not for Bjorn, I just have a hyper fixation on horror movies.), so I hope everyone enjoys!

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, DNI if you’re underage please, Smut, mentions of loss and grief, unprotected P in V sex (please be safe…you know the drill), swearing, some very light choking, some foreplay, and a hint of angst? I am hoping I didn’t miss anything because I rarely go back to read over my work due to being extremely picky with wording.

A p.s. from the author: I was listening to a lot of The Front Bottoms when I named this piece, and I thought this song would be fitting for the title.

Word count: 6,390 (yes. I know. I am wordy okay? lol)

On the ship, you never expected such limited space. You never expected to share a bed, and you certainly never expected to share a bed with Bjorn of all people. You hadn’t been on a trip with the team at all, you stayed on base most of the time, but when Tyler proposed the escapade, you thought a change of scenery would benefit you. The mines were beyond torture to you, and being able to leave that behind for an unknown amount of time was extremely tempting.

Now, somehow, you found yourself back to back with one of the people you despised most. He was not a fan of you either, but you were focused more on your distaste for him, you couldn’t care less what he thought of you, definitely not after you overheard him talking about you several times with the rest of the crew. He didn’t like your guts, or how you tried to fit in with the group without having any inkling of what they had gone through together. The crew was his found family and he saw you as an intrusion to that harmony. Not only that but Bjorn didn’t even care to give you a chance, so you had given up on trying to be friendly, and everyone was aware of the mutual hatred. Yet you still managed to get the least desirable spot in the ship.

You laid awake, staring at the wall of the room, listening to the low hum that the ship emitted, the vibrations gently shaking your face. Bjorn shuffled behind you, pulling the blanket that the two of you shared. They couldn’t even give us separate blankets, you thought as you gripped your side, protecting the surface area you had.

“Do you fucking mind?” He said through gritted teeth, “I’m cold.” He added, yanking on the blanket again.

“You can freeze for all I care.” You replied back, mirroring his actions by pulling the end that you were gripping.

“M’ Sure you’re used to the cold since your ‘art is the same temperature.” He said, trying his hardest to pull the knitted blanket over his exposed legs.

”Well if you didn’t dress like you were going into cryosleep you would be warmer. Now shut up and go to sleep before I kick you off the bed and make you sleep on the metal floor.” You spat back.

Before Bjorn climbed into bed he had stripped off his work clothes, leaving him in nothing but a white tank top that hung loosely on him, and a pair of sleep shorts that were a few sizes too big, you had noticed that he had to put on a belt to wear them when you had caught an unwanted glimpse of him taking off the clothing articles. For you though, you were smarter, you brought long sleeved shirts, woven sleep pants, and sweaters, to ensure that you were going to be comfortable throughout the night, knowing that some ships got cold when you were not constantly moving on them.

”Unlike you I want to be comfortable when I sleep.” He replied, pulling the blanket once more. Snapping the tension that was building in you.

”I swear to god Bjorn, stop fucking pulling the blanket!” You exclaimed loud enough for the crew next door to hear. A sharp bang on the wall indicated that everyone was fed up with the argument, telling the both of you to shut up without words. A pang of silence rang through the both of you, as a defeated sigh escaped your mouth, slowly letting some of the blanket out of your grip, allowing him to cover the rest of his body. No more words were exchanged that night, not even a thank you.

————

You were sitting at your mother’s bedside, watching her lay with her eyes closed, she looked like the colour of ash, her lips were blue, and chapped. Her lively appearance had been drained from her, and she was a shell of who you had known her to be. You hadn’t left her side since the medic announced the time of death. They had unhooked her from the machines as you sat there, crying, holding her hand, but you refused to go, it had been hours. She was all you had, and she was now just a vessel of bones. You were never going to hear her voice, or see her smile, or feel her arms around you ever again, and of all times you wished you could take back everything you had said to her, but it was too late.

You were so focused on memorizing your mothers face, you didn’t hear the sliding doors of the medical room open. You only realized another set of people were in there once they pulled you up by your work shirt. Your hand let go of your mothers, as they began to pull you towards the exit, mumbling something that was incoherent to you at that point, as you were now blinded by fiery rage. You screamed and begged at the top of your lungs to have them let you go, to let you be with your mother for a few more minutes, but they were having none of it. You had resorted to pushing back against them, pulling the opposite direction as the securities grip tightened on your wrist. You kept screaming and screaming until it all went black.

————

“Wake the fuck up!” Bjorn exclaimed, shaking you roughly. The scent of cigarettes wafting from his mouth as his hot breath hit your face with his words. You sat up quickly, almost out of a distinct reflex, luckily he had moved back in time before you forehead hit his face. Your chest was burning, and a familiar taste of salty tears coated your lips, as a bead of sweat dripped down your temple. You placed a hand on your chest, feeling the hard thumping of your heart against it. You tried to catch your breath slowly, not even acknowledging the feeling of Bjorn’s eyes watching you.

He had gotten out of bed just a few minutes before this whole thing, craving a cigarette. He didn’t leave the cramped room, he just sat off to the side, with his arms hanging over his knees, taking long drags and staring at your body rising and falling with increasing intensity. He thought that you were just an odd sleeper, but when you started screaming it sent him into immediate action, knowing that the rest of the crew would’ve automatically assumed it was his fault if he didn’t stop the gut-wrenching sounds. He hadn’t heard anyone scream the way that you were screaming, and he hoped that he would never have to experience it ever again, cause even through all the unfiltered hatred he had for you, he knew something bad must’ve triggered this sort of reaction from you.

He sat in silence, watching you as more tears streamed down your face, your hands reaching up to rub the dampness off your cheeks. He looked over at the mini fridge in the corner of the room, and got off the bed, retrieving his water bottle from the inside of it, returning to you and bumping your arm with the cold metal, grabbing your attention. Your eyes were bloodshot and puffy, but there was anger behind them, until it softened once you noticed what he was holding out to you. He moved it in front of you, a silent offer. A glint of distrust appeared behind your stare.

”Don’t worry. Just water.” His voice was soft, almost like he was hurt that you thought he was going to give you something other than that, especially in this moment of all times. You reached out for the bottle, taking it gently out of his hands, avoiding his eyes once again, as you unscrewed the cap and drank, the cold metal touching your lips, and the refreshing water moisturizing your dry mouth. You pulled the bottle away, screwing the cap back on before attempting to hand it back to him.

”Thank you.” Your voice was hoarse, and the words stung your throat, raw from the screaming you had done moments before. Bjorn gave you a small nod, slowly sitting down on the bed in front of you. He didn’t take his bottle back though. The silence overtook you again, as you sniffed, trying to breathe through your nose. Bjorn rubbed his hands on his sleep shorts, watching the goosebumps start to rise on his pale skin which was now in your field of vision.

“Are you alright?” He broke the silence, clearing his throat. You didn’t respond. You felt like your body was reliving the trauma, even though it had been two years by this point, “Do you want to talk about it?” He added, trying not to push you, but curious as to what caused the screaming spell. You never heard Bjorn’s voice be so gentle before, it was uncanny in a way, the complete opposite of his cursing and loud demeanor he tended to display throughout the normal crew interactions. You found yourself somehow feeling warm towards the tone.

”I-I’m fine.” You responded, coughing from the mucus that was built up in your throat from the crying spell.

”Doesn’t look like it. And it certainly doesn’t sound like it.” He shivered slightly, not wanting to get into another fight about the blanket, knowing it was a bad time to ask for you to share when you were in this highly emotional state. He rubbed his rough hands over his biceps, generating some heat from the friction, as he kept his eyes on you, watching as you fumbled with the lid of his water bottle, rocking slowly, almost in a way to soothe yourself.

“Listen…I know we may not get along…But I’m genuinely concerned.” He admitted, now moving a bit closer to you, reaching his hands out to hold your shoulders, almost as if he was grounding you to reality. “Can you talk or are you going into shock?” You blinked slowly, shaking your head, now grasping his wrist into your hand, removing his cold touch from your body.

”I don’t need your pity Bjorn, just drop it.” His eyebrows knitted together, scoffing at the sentence that just dropped from your lips, his hands hitting his knees in frustration as he stood up from the bed, going towards his pile of clothes.

”Y’know what? You don’t deserve my pity. You don’t deserve anything actually. I-I try to help and you have to always make it seem like you’re the toughest person in the crew, when you’re just a scared little girl. You’re a fucking baby, and deep down behind that fake front you’re putting on you’re just a lost fucking person, just begging to be accepted.” He rambled, as he grabbed his sweater, putting it on over his head, fixing his red bandana in the process.

”If you even went through an inch of what I’ve had to go through Bjorn you wouldn’t be wanting someone else’s pity either. Who the fuck do you think you are, trying to fucking act like you suddenly are concerned about me. You’ve hated me this entire time, you couldn’t care less, you just fucking switch on a dime and act like a knight in shining armour, as if we weren’t just fighting over a blanket a few hours ago. Don’t you fucking dare talk to me about fake fronts. You know NOTHING about me, and you wouldn’t understand what losing someone is like, so go fuck yourself.” You shot back, venom filling every word that left your mouth. The last part in particular made him go rigid, his hands gripping the table in front of him. His knuckles turning white from the steel grip he had around the wood. It immediately registered with you that you struck a nerve, your breath hitching in your throat as his head bowed down. In a matter of seconds Bjorn spun around on his heel and threw something at you, clinking against the water bottle before falling onto your lap. Dog tags? You thought.

”Those were my moms spare ones. She always had backups in case she lost her usual ones in the mines. She died last year. Buried beneath the rubble. Never coming back. You think you know what loss is? You think you know grief? Imagine not havin a chance to say goodbye, then come on out and accuse me of not fucking understanding what losing someone is like.” The words hit you like a pound of bricks, as your brain took a few moments to process what he was saying. You put the water bottle down beside you, now holding the dog tags in your hands, feeling the engraving of his mother's name on it, with her standard issued number right below it. You looked up at him, watching him clench his jaw under your stare. A pang of regret echoed through your body, as your eyes softened.

”Bjorn…I…”

”Save it, I don’t want your pity.” He interrupted, twisting your words back to you, crossing his arms over his chest, as his crystal blue irises watched your delicate, scarred-up hands hold the dog tags, almost as if they would break under her touch, “Maybe It’ll teach you to think before you speak next time.” He muttered, your eyes flashing up to him, as his gaze broke away to look at the floor now. You slumped down into the blanket that surrounded you, the silence encompassing the room once again. You looked back down at the dog tags, releasing a small sigh while sliding off the mattress, your bare feet meeting the cold metal floor. Bjorn couldn’t help but peek through his lashes as he watched you stop in front of him, leaving a bit of space between the two of you. He could feel your warm breath fan his face, the sweet minty smell of your mouthwash tickling his nose. Suddenly he felt your arms wrap around his neck, and the cold metal chain touching his skin, the contact made him tense up, but he stayed still for you until a small click was heard. You adjusted the dog tags gently, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks under his gaze.

“I’m sorry. I should have never said what I said…I know how you feel Bjorn. I understand how it feels to lose a mom, and I should’ve been aware that I am not the only one who has experienced something like that.” You avoided looking up, knowing he was already looking at you. Even though you hated him you knew when the heat of his ice-blue eyes were on you, and you avoided looking back every time.

”Does the grief get easier?” He whispered as if he was asking you for top-secret information. You held the dog tags between your fingers still, licking your dried lips, and shaking your head.

”It doesn’t…But it becomes your normal. My mother passed away two years ago, and as you can tell I haven’t gotten over it.” You let go of the tags, letting them drop against the sweater he was wearing, taking the courage to meet his eyes, “The nightmares don’t come often, and hopefully one day, I won’t be haunted by that night anymore.” You closed your eyes, taking your bottom lip between your teeth, giving it a small bite, taking some of the dry skin off, drawing a droplet of blood from it, letting the metallic taste settle on your tongue.

Bjorn stared at you, almost enamoured by the way you worded your thoughts, feeling his heart tighten slightly at the sight of you biting your bottom lip. His hand instinctively came up to cup your cheek, his thumb running along the skin just below your eye. You tensed up under his cold palm, flinching back slightly, as your gaze fixated on his. Maybe it was the moment that preceded it, the genuine heart to heart you both were having, but you caught yourself melting into the touch, pushing your cheek more into his hand, holding the stare. Your eyes glistened under the dim lighting, beckoning him to come closer, to close the gap between the two of you, like a siren trying to entrap men at sea, and he was one of your victims.

Slowly he leaned in, trying to gauge your body language as he approached. You didn’t move a muscle, and you could’ve sworn you felt the air from your lungs hitch in your throat, his hot breath now fanning over your lips, pausing to test if you were going to make the final move. As you threw your common sense out the window you closed the gap, allowing the moment to take over, pressing your lips against his, a soft sigh escaping from both of you, like this kiss was somehow a long time coming.

Bjorn's hand left your cheek to hold the side of your neck, your pulse beating against his palm, while the other one was placed firmly on your waist, his fingertips digging into the clothed flesh of your hips. The kiss was sloppy, a feverish craving developing slowly as you adapted to one another’s movements. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing yourself into him, a small moan being exchanged, both of you pulling away for a moment to look at each other. To give each other a final chance to realize what you were doing and who you were doing it with.

Red heat crept onto both of your faces, your hands now tangling themselves into his hair, pulling him in again to avoid thinking about the meaning of what you guys were doing, not wanting to put your actions into question. You pulled gently at the hair within your grip, a muted moan vibrating against your lips as Bjorn now had both hands placed on your hips, sneaking under your long-sleeved shirt to touch the soft skin beneath. Goosebumps slowly climbed up your skin, a shiver creeping up your spine, as he switched positions so you were pressed against the small table, entrapping you with his body. His hands slid down the backs of your thighs as he lifted you gently and placed your bottom onto the wooden surface. Your legs opened up for him, letting him settle between them.

You pulled back this time, opening your eyes to look at his face. His lips were already red and swollen from the intensity of the kiss, and you couldn’t help but reach out and touch the tender flesh, watching his icy blue irises observe you, as you dragged your thumb down the middle of his lip, to his chin. A soft moan escaped into the air as his hands desperately searched for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and throwing it to the side.

“Oh my god.” He whispered, looking at your bare chest, your skin flushing beneath his gaze, holding back the instinct to cover yourself up. Your breathing escalated, and you felt the nerves begin to bundle and coil in your stomach. You did not know if this was a good situation, but you reassured yourself that you would take care of it in the morning. The cold air of the enclosed room hardened your nipples as Bjorn leaned towards you, his soft lips slowly kissing down your neck, with his rough, calloused hands running down your bareback. You could feel his teeth gently graze the skin of your collarbone, a small bite being felt, making you flinch in his hands at the sensation that crowded your consciousness, you could feel his lips form a small smirk against your skin, his eyes glancing at up at you briefly to witness the blush slowly invade your cheeks.

“You okay?” He asked, his hot breath sticking to the skin just above the mound of your breast, his eyes watching you closely for your reaction, trying to see if there was hesitance. His lips parted slightly, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the sensitive flesh, earning a soft sigh out of you.

“I’m okay.” You replied, “Are you okay?” Returning the same level of concern he had, as his lips took your pebbled nipple into his mouth, hollowing out his cheeks to create a tense suction while the tip of his tongue collaborated with the pressure, a gasp emitting into the air. He pulled back for a moment, with a small pop.

“I’m on fire.” His voice was husky, his mouth returning to the same spot again, adding more saliva to the sensitive skin on your nipples, as your thighs enclosed around Bjorn’s hips, feeling the tenting in his shorts brush up against your core. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, as your brain focused on the sensations of his tongue, whilst also trying to find the bottom of his sweater with your hands. You tugged at the hem of the clothing, watching him pull off your nipple again to aid you in removing the top, throwing it to the side, and leaving him in his undershirt. Your eyes roamed over his exposed skin, now paying attention to the details you never noticed before, tracing the outline of the healed scars that glistened in the light, you assumed it was from the mines, knowing that the ricocheting rocks could give some pretty nasty scrapes. There was a pause, as the two of you exchanged momentary glances, before touching foreheads. He snaked his arms around you, pulling you up and off the desk, your legs wrapped around him out of instinct while he was making his way over to the small mattress. Your lips found his again, desire burning behind every action you took, feeling your back hit the bed, the mattress pillowing around you. His weight pressed down onto your body, his hands sliding down your bare torso, right to the tie of your pyjama pants, the two of you continuing to kiss hungrily, your teeth nibbling his bottom lip. He pulled away, holding himself up with one arm.

“Can I take them off?” He breathed, motioning to his hand on the tie. You nodded, lifting your hips off the bed so he could pull the pants down off your long legs, bunching them up and throwing them to the side, taking in the sight before him. His eyes roamed over the skin of your legs, smooth and unmarked, leading up to the green lacy underwear you wore, the last thing you had on. You felt his calloused fingers trace up your thigh, as you sat up taking his face into your hands, watching him close his eyes.

“Lay down.” You instructed, his eyelids fluttering open to meet your gaze, “But let’s take this off first.” You added, slipping the undershirt off his form, exposing more of his milky white skin, your hands running down his chest, feeling the thumping of his heart against your palm, your eyes glued to him as he listened to your instructions, laying on his back as you climbed on top of him, your legs straddling his waist, placing pressure on the tent that was formed in his shorts. He pushed his head back on the mattress, as his mouth slowly opened, his hands resting on your hips to press you down harder against the fabric adding friction to the area.

You could feel your arousal pool in your panties, as he dragged your hips forward and back against the outline of his cock. You can tell that he was well-endowed, which made you nervous. It wasn’t your first time having sex, but you had run into a dry spell, it had been a year and a half by this point - not that you were counting the days - and you feared that you possibly lost your touch. Now being aware of his size you had this innate desire to impress him, paying attention to the grip he had on your hips, feeling his fingers dig into your flesh with each movement. He looked up at you, lust filling behind the blue irises as he removed one hand from your waist, bringing his fingers up to his mouth, coating them in saliva, before sitting up, not wanting to stay on his back. His touch left a wet trail down your stomach, brimming the waistband of your underwear, silently asking to continue further. In desperation, your lips met his, wanting to be closer to him, hoping that this was a good enough answer for him to go on with what he was planning.

His hand slid under the waistband, feeling the wetness that was soaked into the cloth of your underwear, a light moan escaping his mouth. You pulled him closer to you, your hands roaming over his shoulder blades. He smiled against your lips, as his fingertips grazed over your clit, earning a sharp intake of breath from you that was a little louder than expected. He pulled back quickly, using his spare hand to cover your mouth.

“You need to be quiet.” He whispered, smirking at the way your face turned bright red, continuing to circle your clit in a slow and rhythmic motion. The wetness from his saliva allows for a smooth glide across the bundle of nerves, causing your hips to buckle slightly. Bjorn removed his hand from your mouth, placing it onto your breast, and giving it a rough squeeze. You closed your eyes tightly as his fingers continued working on both erogenous zones, synching them together so that when your hips ground against his hand his fingers squeezed your nipple. He leaned down, his mouth latching onto your free breast, sucking hard on the sensitive flesh, leaving a dark red mark, and moving to the other side to do the same.

Your brain was clouded, not knowing what to focus on, completely intoxicated by the attention Bjorn was giving you. You were surprised by how gentle he was when usually he carried himself like an unattentive jerk most of the time. His fingers suddenly stopped rubbing your clit, as his hand moved further into the slick wetness of your panties, dipping two fingers inside of you. Your mouth dropped open at the delicious stretch his thick digits provided, mentally reminding yourself not to make excessive noise. A small smile drew up on his swollen lips.

“God you’re so tight.” His words brushed against your lips, “I can’t wait to feel you around my cock.” He added, smirking at the way your eyes closed at the words he said, curling his fingers inside you, moving them slowly to build up the tension that electrified all your senses. Through your short gasps for air one of your hands made its way down his chest, undoing his belt and throwing it to the side, ghosting your lips against his before slipping your hand beneath the waistband, finding his hard cock in an instant. You couldn’t see it, but the outline didn’t prepare you for the thickness and length that you were palming at the moment. Precum was already dripping from the head of his penis as you started stroking, spreading the warm stickiness along the shaft. Now, just like you, he was taking in short breaths, the rhythm of his fingers being thrown off at the touch of your hand.

“Do I need a c-condom?” He asked, already thinking ahead so there was no delay once all the layers were off.

“I…Implant.” You shuddered, trying to speak without your words getting caught in your throat, “Got it r-replaced a month ago.” His lips met the marked flesh of your breast, giving light kisses on the area.

“You want me to fill you with my cum? You wanna be leaking me all day long? Hm?” His voice vibrated against your skin, his mouth leaving another purpled bruise over your breast. The sheer thought caused your walls to flutter around his fingers, which encouraged him to continue his quickened pace. You could feel yourself getting to the point where your legs were beginning to twitch from the sensation he was causing you, your orgasm building inside your velvety walls. Bjorn took the opportunity and added another finger into you, stretching you out as much as possible, the sudden intrusion making your back arch into him. He took advantage of the moment of weakness and flipped you over, so now you were at his mercy, a yelp escaping your throat at the newfound pressure of his body on yours.

“Tell me what you want….” He said, his breath hitting the shell of your ear, his full puffy lips ghosting the skin so delicately. His body shuddered as you began to stroke him with a little more roughness

“I want…You.” Your voice was hoarse, almost cracking at the desperation, as your free hand took his bandana off his head, throwing it to the side so his hair could fall in front of his face. He hummed, pumping his fingers in and out a few more times before removing them, bringing his glistening digits up to his lips, sucking the juices off them like it was honey.

“You taste so sweet…S-so delicious.” He murmured, getting every last drop before moving off of you, your grip leaving his hardened member. He grabbed the blanket placing it at his waist before beckoning you to come join him under the covers. You removed your underwear, watching him shuffle beneath the blanket, assuming that he was removing his shorts, the last thing that was hindering the finality of what the both of you were going to do. You knew things were going to change after this, there was no denying that, and it was slowly dawning on you that you didn’t know how you were going to handle this in the morning. Are you and Bjorn going to suddenly become friendly, and allow the people around you to catch wind of what happened? Or are you going to keep it your little secret? You had no clue, and it currently wasn’t the right time to ask, so once again, you pushed the thoughts away, settling in under the covers with him, his skin touching yours, setting the area ablaze, as the electric heat rushed up your body.

You turned onto your side, mirroring the position he was in, allowing yourself to look at him, allowing the silence to come between the two of you. A small smile appeared on his lips, his hand reaching out to push a piece of hair out of your face. The two of you took a moment to breathe, almost like you were trying to emotionally sync together. He could sense you were thinking too hard, the cogs in your brain turning about what was going to happen after this, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment to have a long conversation about the future, it wasn’t the right time.

His hand caressed your cheek, as you brought your leg over his hip to close the small space you mindfully left between the two of you.

“Are you sure you want this?” Bjorn blurted out, he could see your eyes widen slightly, “I mean…I just don’t want you to wake up tomorrow morning hating me even more because we did this. I also don’t want to take advantage of our heart to heart…I just want to make sure…” He trailed off, looking at your lips turning up into a soft smile, your head shaking.

“I want this.” You replied, “And you’re not taking advantage of me, and I won’t hate you even more when we wake up.” You added, hoping that those confirmations were enough to give him the go ahead. He nodded, before his arm slid around your waist to pull you closer to him, planting a gentle kiss onto your lips, placing his weight forward so he can have you laying on your back.

He settled between your legs, holding your neck with his hand, giving it a taunting squeeze, as he adjusted to the position on top of you, feeling the wetness between your legs against him. He pulled back, letting his free hand grab his cock, giving it a few strokes to spread the precum over the length. You watched him do this with your lip caught between your teeth in anticipation, his body leaning closer to you to let the tip drag down your folds to find your entrance. His eyes met yours, wanting to look into them as he slowly thrusted into you. Your mouth dropped open, as his lips met yours to swallow the gasp that almost made its escape.

The warmth surrounded him, your walls taking him in willingly, the stretch making you breathless, and leaving you feeling full, even though he wasn’t close to bottoming out. His breath was heavy as he continued to push, feeling his hips buckle slightly from the pure heat that was running through him, that held him. He squeezed your neck gently, pulling back from your mouth, a small whimper leaving your throat, desperately wanting his lips to be back on yours.

”Y-You feel so good Bjorn.” You managed to say quietly, your voice sounding like you were on the brink of tears, your hands sliding up from his chest, all the way up his neck, to now lace through his hair, as you continued to feel him push into you gasping when he bottomed out right against your cervix, his hips meeting yours. The hand that was on your neck slid to your cheek.

”You need to try to be quiet.” He said, knowing that it might be no use, even he was struggling to hold back at this point. You nodded, pulling him back down so your lips can crash against his again, the sloppy wetness distracting you for a moment, as he pulled out, so just the tip remained in you, before burying himself into you again, your moans vibrating between the two of you, trying to keep the volume down as much as possible. Slowly Bjorn found his rhythm, allowing you to adjust fully to his size before he picked up the movements. His lips pulled away from yours, as he moved to the side of your neck, peppering wet kissing against the sensitive flesh, before blowing on the damp spots, the cooling sensation sending shivers up your spine.

”B-Bjorn…I-I…” You couldn’t get any words out, the way his hips continued to meet yours in an agonizing roughness was too much for you to even think. The pleasure coiled inside you with each movement, and it left you breathless, as Bjorn pulled back to look into your dazed eyes. He felt pride knowing how speechless you were, watching you gasp as he teasingly pulled out to the tip only for him to push harder back into you, letting himself graze your cervix to add to the pressure that was building inside you. Your walls fluttered around him, as your nails dragged down his back, causing him to shudder.

”You feel so good…So fucking good.” He breathed, moving back a little so he was sitting up slightly, to watch himself go in and out of you, his mouth forming an ‘o’ as his head tilted back, eyes closing. “If only you could see how good your pussy looks when it’s taking my cock. It’s like a fucking dream…You’re a fucking dream.” His hands dug into the skin of your hips, as he pushed himself in harder, the sound of skin slapping on skin now echoing through the small room. The back of your head pressed into the pillow, your back arching up, breasts perking, as your body began to grind into his thrusts, adding additional pressure against your g-spot. The slight shift in position allows you to feel the veins of his cock drag against your walls, leaving you breathless.

“Jesus Christ Bjorn, please…Harder.” You begged quietly, feeling the coil in your core begin to burn, the tension building with each movement he made. His eyes roamed over your body, as his hands brought your legs up onto his shoulders, a loud gasp escaping your throat.

“I want you to come on me. I want to feel your sweet little cunt tighten around my cock.” He stated, kissing your calf, as his fingers intertwined with yours, pushing your hands down to pin them on either side of your head. You writhed under him as his thrusts became sloppier, his hips grinding against yours as the both of you chased the release you craved. His right hand released yours as he wrapped it around your neck, digging gently into your pulse points adding just enough pressure to make you lightheaded, your hand coming up to hold his wrist. The tension finally snapped inside you as you cried out, your walls clenching around him, your body shuddering at the ecstacy that flowed through you. Your hooded eyes looked up at him, pleading, feeling him slide your legs off his shoulders so he can press his body against yours craving the intimacy of the position.

“Please Bjorn. Please cum in me.” You begged, his lips ghosting yours, his head nodding, as his hard thrusts began to falter, slowing slightly until he pushed deeper into you, the tip of his cock pressing right up against your cervix as he filled you up with his hot seed, a soft ‘ahh’ escaping his throat, his hips bucking against yours as he rode out his high. His cock twitched against your overly stimulated walls, making sure every last drop of his cum had settled into you before pulling out, and letting go of your neck with a sigh. He pressed a soft, satisfying kiss against your lips, rolling off of you soon after, landing on his back. You pulled the blanket up over your chest, looking down at the marks that he had left on the tops of your breasts, then looking at him, seeing the spent look on his face, a small smile painted on his reddened lips.

”That…That was fucking amazing.” He said, his hand reaching over to interlace your fingers together, head tilting to meet your eyes.

“We should get into fights more often.” You commented, causing the both of you to laugh.

“Maybe we could arrange that.”

[l223m0nade]

Bees (a stucky au snzfic)

ok

ok ok

so I saw this random thing on a tumblr post:

and it got its Stucky-idea hooks so deep in my brain. It just did. And the thing is my deepest inspo is honestly in the land of snz. (This fic kind of ends abruptly sorry but i want to do more and it'll probably end up on Ao3 w like a M or E rating 😳🫣 when and if that happens i'll link to it)

Stucky au, no powers, age gap, what I'm picturing in my head goes less with the words "silver fox Steve" and more with the words "dorky Dilf Steve" like 2012 Cap fashion with current Chris Evans face? in..a good way? and longhair early-20s burnout Bucky. I have some backstory headcanons that are just hinted at here, hopefully it's tantalizing rather than confusing.

anyway have 11.5k words of this and encourage me to write more bc i have fallen in love with these particular boyz. Some light existential angst but mainly idiots pining aka the sweetest sauce

~Fic~

Sam isn’t sure how much longer he can allow this to go on. His barback and the new semi-regular square dude are once again being all awkwardly flirty while pretending they’re not, like two sad lonely white...ducks, who never learned a mating dance and have zero game.

At least Square Dude has an excuse: he’s the most obvious newly-divorced newly-out family-type guy Sam’s ever seen. He’s clean-cut, with a ridiculously handsome square jaw, wearing well-made but unstylish button-down shirts and pants that make him look like he belongs in a Norman Rockwell painting. He started coming in about two months ago, quiet, friendly when ordering his one or two beers of the evening, and firmly shy when it comes to the inevitable overtures sent his way. It doesn’t take a genius to see that this is him dipping a first toe into the pool: coming to a relatively quiet gay bar, just to sit and watch men talk to each other and let the whole notion sink in.

By now most guys would’ve found someone to spread their wings with or gone elsewhere to find em, but Square Dude, whose name is Steve, seems content to talk to the guy who pours his beer about whatever DIY project Bucky is pulling questions out of his ass about.

The crush is painfully obvious, and suburban closeted Steve can’t be blamed for having no deal-sealing abilities, but Bucky has no such excuse. Sam has watched him pull stiff-backed business bros in five minutes flat when the mood struck him, with his big blue puppy eyes and his dark wicked smirk and long lean slouch. But with Steve all he appears capable of doing is asking him questions about crown molding as though those words mean anything to him while gazing at him like he’s beaming the words You could fix me directly into Steve’s skull. Steve, for his part, just doesn’t seem to be able to look anywhere other than Bucky.

As usual, anyone that tries to strike anything beyond a friendly conversation is kindly but firmly rebuffed. “He’s not ready for that yet,” Bucky had insisted with unnecessary defensiveness when Sam implied it was time for the new guy to move from spectating to participating in the relatively mellow flirting and hookup scene the bar played host to most evenings. “People go at their own pace.”

“The only pace he’s going at is towards you,” Sam smirked. Bucky glowered at his implication. “You gotta make it weird. He comes here to, like, practice. I’m part of that, in a chill, friendly way.” He shrugged and looked at the glass he was drying. “When he is ready, it’s not gonna be for me, it’s gonna be for someone actually in his league, like a...hot college professor, or something.” Sam had rolled his eyes and resolved to stop trying to help Bucky Barnes flail around in his mess of a love life anymore, for the hundredth or so time.

Tonight is busy enough that Sam can mostly be distracted from this bad sitcom, and not so busy that he has to yell at Barnes for being distracted. Still, there are a couple empties on tables in the Steve-less side of the bar, and after finishing the drinks for the people in front of him he turns, catching Bucky’s voice, in a tone of delight he uses when speaking with only one person, saying “Wait. Seriously? Bees?”

“Yeah!” Steve responds, equally puppyish. He’s tall and broad, sandy hair and beard just beginning to show a hint of salt-and-pepper. He looks like anyone’s fantasy fireman or lumberjack, at least in the context of a place like this. He also exudes genuine sweetness and vulnerability despite his intimidating muscled height.

Bucky Barnes, Sam’s barback and old friend, leans against the bar doing the helpless-goober-with-a-crush stare, a look on his face like Steve just announced he was a Nobel Prize winner. “No way. How do you keep bees? Just as, what, a casual hobby? That’s, like, a whole thing, you can’t be an expert in so many things!”

Bucky is all shaggy longish dark hair and stupid cheap graphic t-shirts, with a striking, animated face that is used mainly for sarcasm. He and Sam had been at the same high school a few blocks away, though Sam is older, and in the funny way of life they’ve wound up good friends. He’s working at Sam’s place because, in his words, he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing with his life. Bucky’s going through his own version of one of those fairly bleak lost periods of 20-something misery, but he’s smart and not a drunk and decent at what he does for Sam, and if he bangs a third of the customers he does it discreetly enough. Sam never knew dark-blond, broad-shouldered, bass-voice sad-eyed dudes pushing 40 were the kryptonite that made him unable to do anything including flirt, until Steve came in one day and Bucky sprayed himself with the keg he was tapping.

Steve chuckles— is this man blushing? “Oh no, I’m nowhere near an expert. But it’s pretty easy once they get established. Don’t need much from you. I’m not, uh, living at the place with the backyard where the hives are, right now….so….but they’ll be fine without me.”

Steve gets a little quiet and Bucky’s fangirl expression dims with distressed sympathy. It gets sad like this sometimes when talking to Steve. Recently divorced guys had this problem, where everything came back to the one topic. Steve’s not doing it pathologically, didn’t seem like, just genuinely realizing another change. Bucky looks stricken. He doesn’t always seem young, at newly 24, but sometimes it still shows.

Sam finally manages to catch his eye away from gazing at Steve to convey a quick head jerk of get-the-hell-over-there-and-do-the-job-I-pay-you-for, and Bucky peels himself away with an apologetic smile at Steve. Sam picks up the conversation with Steve as Bucky clears tables at top speed, hearing how he’s renting a place month-to-month not far away, not able to plan something more permanent just yet. He doesn’t say anything revealing, but it’s still easy to paint a picture of a small, empty apartment. Bucky’s not the only one with a soft spot for this guy, and Sam is warmed by the thought that his little bar offers him respite.

………………..

“That’s so sad,” moans Bucky a few days later. It’s just after opening on a weekday afternoon, and Bucky seemed quieter than usual so Sam is tantalizing him with what he learned talking to Steve the other day. “Did he say—you know he has kids?”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam answers. He’d been as offhand as a person could be about that sort of thing, but it wasn’t hard to see how he really felt. He was standing in the rubble of a sincere loving marriage to a woman with whom he had two 11-year old twins. Helped explain his rectitude when it came from moving from his spot at the bar, meeting someone other than the staff. Bucky’s eyes are pools of sympathetic anguish and Sam feels the need to say, “This kinda stuff happens to people, Buck,” earning an eye-roll for his patronizing efforts. “It’s good he’s coming here, learning about himself. I think you help a lot, for the record.”

Bucky starts and gives him a bewildered look. “What?”

This is aging him. Sam sighs, “He’s lonely. Maybe feels kinda lost right now.”

Bucky’s mouth gets a pained downward slant to it.

“He. Likes. You.”

At that, of course, Bucky gets uncomfortable, blushing and moving off to wipe tables somewhere away from Sam, rubbing his nose and clearing his throat like he’s been doing since he got there. He brightens when Steve comes in an hour later, and Sam rolls his eyes and leaves them to their game of mouse-and-mouse.

Steve is telling Bucky... how window insulation works. He thinks he asked, he hopes to god he did, at least. He’s been embarrassing himself for weeks, coming to this place almost every day. He’s kept it pretty well under wraps that although he liked the neighborhood simplicity, and talking to Sam, and got comfortable after the first few visits, the real reason he’s there more evenings than not is to see Bucky. With his bright grey-blue eyes and dark hair hanging past his chin, swinging against his cheekbones, with his smile and wicked sense of humor and his confounding ease in himself, the ease that gives Steve despair and hope for himself. With that mouth and that divot in his chin, and those last two thoughts are not allowed, because the need to put his thumb into that dot in his sculpted chin and kiss those ridiculously pink lips is urgent and unthinkable.

He doesn’t do that, he just sits and pines and chats awkwardly with him, and gets to know a few other regular guys and talks sports with Sam. He just likes talking to Bucky, it’s easy, easy like nothing has been in a long time, and he’s a creep, he’s a pathetic older guy using his experience to take advantage of a younger guy—

Only, he’s not actually experienced here, at all. And Bucky is so smart, he’s self-deprecating about it but it’s not like he and Steve aren’t generally on the same level beyond his inner glossary of home improvement terminology. He downplays the fact that he knows cars like an expert, insists the stuff Steve learned from keeping up an old house and the hobbies he picked up to stay sane is somehow far more impressive— Steve’s pretty sure he’s doing it on purpose, to make him feel less adrift and clueless. He has that way about him, of someone who looks after other people without realizing it.

Things were all dark there for a while, with the end of his marriage to Peggy. But he’s pretty sure he and Bucky are friends, and he feels bright when he sees him.

Tonight, though, Bucky seems just a little worn down. He’s wearing a waffle-knit shirt under his incomprehensible-thorny-calligraphy-t-shirt, as though he’s cold, and his eyes are tired. Steve waits for a reply to the last thing he said and looks to see Bucky with a dazed, spaced-out expression, before he shakes his head and rubs his nose, saying “Sorry, I thought I was gonna sneeze, what’d you say?”

Talking about the goddamn weather and window insulation was segueing into a real conversation, to Steve’s delight: “How my mom moved us out to Jersey so we could live somewhere better and I never forgave her.” Bucky gives a wide-eyed grimace of agreement and he can’t help the bright laugh that bursts out of him. “How about you, you grow up in the city?” He’d inadvertently spilled his guts about the divorce on like his third time in the bar, something that humiliated him to think of but Sam had simply said with an understanding face wasn’t too unusual, so Bucky knew the basics about Peggy and the twins, but Steve had felt clumsy asking Bucky about himself.

He rolled his eyes with his problematically attractive crooked grin and answered, “Aw man, I grew up practically around the block from this place. Went to high school at the big catholic cinderblock in the neighborhood. I was at school on the west coast for a couple years, but…” His eyes cast downward. “now I’m back.”

Steve remembers how bad it felt at that age, to not have accomplished enough fast enough. Saying that will make him sound like an old grey dad and even if that’s what he is he can still hold out a little hope of being something different here, so he just says, “Brooklyn’s a good hometown to come back to.”

That makes Bucky smile at him and look him in the eye, like he liked what Steve said, even like it made him feel better. Steve tamps his answering grin down to reasonable levels.

Bucky’s also been rubbing at his nose on and off this whole time, and he can see it give a little twitch right before he breathes out a “scuse-me” through hitching breaths, his eyes flickering closed. He pushes his nose firmly into his long-sleeved elbow. “hhh-hh-tdschuh!” He sneezes quietly and muffled. “Oh, snf, sorry,” he says, blinking and emerging from his elbow but not lowering it, the hazy ticklish look still on his face, breaths hitching. “Another—hhh—‘nother one?” He freezes, looking up at the overhead lights, nostrils flared, but after a second he deflates with a sigh. “Nope, nevermind. Snff.” Steve’s guts swoop. This crush is so unsustainable. He’s gonna fail to be cool and friendly and he’ll have to watch Bucky go all uncomfortable and pitying as he explains to Steve that he has six hot boyfriends who are not almost-forty almost-virgin losers who only know how to take up his time when he’s trying to work. According to his therapist these “harangues of negativity” are “unhelpful.” But Bucky looks tired and a little pale and like his nose is going to start turning pink and Steve is just trying to survive.

“Bless you,” Steve says softly in his gentle voice that’s so deep it takes Bucky by surprise and makes his stomach flutter every time he talks to him. He feels like he might be blushing.

“Thanks,” it comes out husky and he clears his throat hard, moving to the little sink to wash his hands.

“Allergies, or…?” Steve ventures, a little divot between his eyebrows of concern-more-like-pity.

“I dunno, something’s bothering my nose today,” he says lightly with a shrug. In truth Bucky has a good idea what’s making him sneeze. The fucking radiator that was supposed to heat his cheap shitty basement apartment had stopped working in the middle of the night, so he’d spent six hours until dawn shivering, and an itchy tickly feeling had been growing in the back of his nose and throat since around noon. It’s starting to evolve into a runny nose and an ever-present but elusive feeling of being about to sneeze, and he knows that means he’s coming down with a cold.

He sees some convenient glasses to clear and excuses himself with a smile so he can sniffle out of Steve’s earshot; he’s enough of a mess compared to Steve on his best day, he doesn’t need to show off his scraggly urchin runny nose aesthetic of tonight any more than he has to.

For the next hour, these light, tickly sneezes either sneak up on him or abandon him at the last minute, leaving his nose feeling like it’s going to start getting stuffy.

Steve watches Bucky do his job, sniffling, rubbing his nose, and sneezing furtively into his sleeve or collar; tucking the strands of hair that have come loose from his short ponytail behind his ears, and feels so helplessly tender for him that it can’t be normal or healthy even by desperate crush standards.

Bucky’s coming down with a cold. He seems to want to brush it off, but Steve can hear a slight change in the resonance of his voice that gives it away even if the tired pink starting to border his eyes and nostrils doesn’t. The place is getting crowded and he’s busy; Steve feels for him, as well as pathetically jealous of his attention as he banters with him in passing once in a while.

He glances up as Bucky heads in his direction with a short stack of empty glasses and sees his steps slow; he pauses, blinks up at the overhead light, eyes hazy, and then, wavering, starts to turn his face into his shoulder, before pausing again and then sighing and sniffing as the sneeze evaporates. He looks up and sees Steve watching him like a creep and laughs, “Damn, lost her,” and then as he continues behind the bar, “You havin’ fun watching me look stupid?”

“It’s agony actually,” he responds, gets a laugh, and feels the now-somewhat-familiar internal squeal of this is flirting! I’m flirting with a guy and I think he can tell! It’s painfully pathetic, but he can’t help but track the fact that Bucky knows plenty of the folks that come to Sam’s, that he’ll give anyone his attention if they ask for it, smiling and joking, but the only person he really goes out of his way to talk to, initiates teasing with, is him, Steve. It’s still nothing more than polite obligatory chatting, he’s sure— when you work at a bar this kinda thing is natural. Bucky is young and charismatic and gorgeous. His love life would probably give Steve enough combined envy and jealousy to cause heart failure, which would be perfectly appropriate because he is an old square divorcee. It makes him warm and bubbly enough that he seems to be Bucky’s favorite customer to pass the time with.

A guy down the bar gets his beer from Sam and sidles closer. “This seat taken?” he asks with a good-humored cocked eyebrow. This is why Steve actually started coming to this place: to meet people, to meet guys, in a way that, well, went somewhere. To call his own decades-old bluff. Not to moon over staff half his age who woulda been out of his league even if he was still in his twenties. He turns to the guy—his age or a few years older, attractively lithe with muscle, a hard but handsome face, and smiles.

Bucky gets busy for a stretch— Sam’s place is actually full tonight thanks to the playoff game. He enjoys the feeling of being a genuinely necessary part of the bar’s operation, when some nights it’s hard to believe he’s more than Sam’s charity case. Nights like this remind him that he has a real job, he’s decent at it even with a bum left arm; whether he’s living out his dreams or not he’s an adult with a job, a place to live, and people he cares about. Plus it distracts him from feeling sorry for himself for coming down sick.

His satisfied feelings fade when he looks over to the Steve end of the bar and sees Brock Rumlow talking to him. He scowls. Fucking Rumlow. He only ever comes on nights with games these days, but Bucky would be perfectly happy if he never came in at all.

It’s fine. Steve’s fine. He is a grown-up, significantly more of one than Bucky. Of all the people who have no need of his misplaced ineffectual chivalry, Steve has got to be last in line.

Maybe he finds more stuff to do in the general area of that end of the bar, and maybe he’s listening for Rumlow to say something dickish, or maybe he’s just a masochist and he wants to know firsthand if they hit it off. Sam is trying to point his “Don’t-be-Stupid” face at him like a flashlight beam but he resolutely ignores it while he replaces a couple bottles that legitimately needed it, ok, just because they’re in a convenient place doesn’t make that untrue.

“Yeah, I’m glad I found this place,” he catches Steve’s cheerful voice. A wave of bar noise obscures their next words, and then he makes out Rumlow,

“—actual sports on the TV. ‘Course,” the smile is audible in his voice, “the clubby places are good for at least one reason, y’know?” He quiets down to say it but not enough. Steve wouldn’t particularly like that, Bucky guesses, and then grinds his teeth as his brain helpfully supplies him with the memories of how easily Brock had charmed him, months ago. It wasn’t any kind of nightmare, but it was still probably his least favorite hookup to date: he’d been so happily focused on Bucky at first, then rough and selfish in bed, capped off by an unnecessarily clear implication that he wouldn’t be calling. Bucky knew the score with casual sex, but it had still given him enough whiplash to sting; it crossed his mind a few days later that it had been like Rumlow wanted him to feel like a dumb kid.

Steve has sputtered something about “not sure he’s looking for anything like that” while Bucky fumed about the past. He has to grab beers for a couple guys, and bending to get in the lowboy fridge makes his nose run suddenly, and flush with an insistent tickle. He manages, just barely, to squash the sneeze completely into a silent mmp! into his shoulder, andmakes a getaway to the bathroom. He blows his nose, but it won’t stop tickling, so then he stands there like an idiot, holding paper towels like they’re a book he’s reading, staring up into the lights and waiting to coax the sneeze out.

He can feel it coming but it still takes forever. At least the bathroom is empty. He wrinkles his nose exaggeratedly and sniffs and his breath finally starts to catch.

“hehh...heh...heh—heh-Uhh....huhh. Fuck.” There’s no way it’s not happening though, his goddamn nose tickles so bad— “hhHAh—EHSsschhooo!” It’s a ridiculous cartoony sneeze but at least it’s satisfying. He blows his nose again, then sighs. He’s definitely sick. Gonna be great sleeping in a freezing apartment. Turning into kind of a shitty night, he thinks with sarcastic pep.

When he leaves the restroom he can’t help glancing over to where Steve sits, and sees he’s now frowning at whatever Rumlow’s saying, looking politely uncomfortable on the way to annoyed. As he drifts back into earshot he hears, “….fun, but, if you’re looking for more than, um, casual, I dunno, kind of a dead end.” Then his pulse jumps as Rumlow looks right at him and finishes, “not dating material, trust me. Either way,” he leans in, “I think you can do better.”

Bucky closes the distance but puts himself behind the bar so he doesn’t immediately clock the asshole. His fists are clenched. Can he throw him out? If he doesn’t get away from Steve and shut up Bucky’s gonna end up fired and charged with assault, probably, but he doesn’t know if he can throw someone out on the grounds of being a jerk that he hates. Thank God, Sam’s caught on that something is up.

Rumlow doesn’t seem to have won Steve over, in any case. He’s turned cold and hard in a way that makes him look unfamiliar, and he says quietly but very clearly, “I think you’ve got the wrong idea.” He sounds like a straight Army Captain contemptuously shattering an underling’s heart immediately post-office-suckjob or something; in the morass of anger and panic it still registers with Bucky’s dick to his utter bewilderment. It definitely triggers some core memory for Rumlow, who turns the color of old milk before flushing and standing. He takes in the sight of Bucky glowering behind Steve and barks an ugly laugh. “It’s like that, huh?” he asks, shaking his head in mock pity. “Good luck with that rescue mission.”

Bucky feels like he did when Hank Ackerman pantsed him in 8th grade. Everything’s too bright and clear. He wants to cover his face and run into the back, but he’s rooted to the spot by the thought that that’s just what the dumb baby slut Rumlow’s been making him out to be would do.

“That’s it man,” Sam comes up beside him, smile on his face as though he’s just casually joining their conversation. “You’re done. Get outta here.”

Rumlow scoffs, takes a step towards the door, then turns with the beginning of a macho intimidation-lean in Sam’s direction. He’s hammered, Bucky hadn’t realized, and he can usually tell with people. He’s...kind of fucking scary. Had he gotten rougher around the edges, or had he been like this when Bucky went home with him? Jesus Christ.

Sam just returns his stare, all semblance of friendliness gone from his face. “Get out.”

Rumlow glares another second, but then he goes. There’s a reason Sam’s successful running a bar in the middle of the still-managing-to-be-seedy part of Brooklyn, as well as his finely tuned sensibilities to the unmet needs of Brooklyn’s grownup queer folks. He has the air, recognizable to serious troublemakers, of someone who will absolutely meet and raise any escalation. There were, in fact, a taser and a gun behind the bar, but Sam had never had to use them.

Steve stands up sharply, like he’s—what, gonna follow? Bucky opens his mouth to protest, but then—“Steve.” Sam’s got the side bar entry folded up and he’s intercepting his angry stride. “Please don’t.” He goes on, too quiet for Bucky to make out. Steve deflates and sits back down, taking a long drink of beer and then frowning at his knees.

Bucky consciously lets go of his tension as he sees Rumlow’s silhouette, walking outside, disappear from the last window on the right. He feels shaky, the way any kind of confrontation leaves him, and embarrassed as hell. He avoids Steve’s eyes for all he’s worth, scrubbing a hand under his nose and sniffing sharply.

Steve was just a customer. Bucky was just one of many people that Steve made polite conversation with in the course of a day. Feeling like this was just a consequence of getting that confused. Because he’s an idiot. He has to sniffle again. He also feels about ten times sicker than he did a few minutes ago, and successfully blinking away the brief prickle in his eyes just turns it into the need to sneeze.

Steve tries to breathe smoothly and calm down. This frat-boy rage is ridiculous, he still wants to go punch the hell out of that fucking creep. He must be drunker than he realizes, although deep down he knows it has more to do with the inarticulate surge of protectiveness he’d felt for Bucky since the guy had gestured to him with a jerk of his head as he crossed the room.

He hears a shuddering gasp and sees Bucky duck down to crouch behind the bar. His concern flares way up, but then he hears the three muffled sneezes, all in a rush, “hhhMPtchsh—hmptsschoo—hptsshhuh,”. He straightens back up, sniffing hard, more wetly than he sounded earlier. He’s rubbing his nose and glaring at the door, not looking at Steve.

“Bucky,” he says, frowning, determined to get this across, “what that asshole said about you—”

“Steve, snff, it’s fine, just drop it, okay, I’m asking you,” he meets Steve’s eyes with a downcast expression, before it flickers as his breath catches, and he sneezes again, half-pinched down into the collar of his shirt, “ihh-dtsschuh!”

His nostrils keep quivering and he lets out a shaky sigh of frustration before ducking around the corner out of sight with his hands tented over his nose and sneezing, “hiih-hih-HIDtschoo!...hih-HIH-TISchoo! ..heehh...heh—HEH—” the last one deserts him and leaves him sniffling. They’re still pretty quiet, but a lot heavier and spraying than the first sneezes Steve heard earlier. Bucky blows his nose and washes his hands thoroughly, and when he’s back behind the bar his nose is decidedly pink.

“Buck,” Steve says, and Bucky’s lips thin in exasperation— it’s not like him, compared to the guy Steve’s talked to the last few weeks. Whatever, he can’t help but say, “you do sound like you’re coming down with something, you should—”

“Steve, I’m fine,” says Bucky, in a soft tone that brooks no argument. Still tense, he turns to Steve with a crooked smile and says, “Really,” and it’s warm, if strained, between them again, and it seems like that’ll just have to satisfy Steve, and he says as much to Bucky who blushes and bites his lip for some reason.

Sam rescues Bucky by asking him to do inventory in back, letting him be sneeze and be dramatically in his feels without anyone around, especially Steve. The bar is slow enough now that he just shamelessly hides for the rest of the night. He’s constantly sniffling and sneezing and needing to blow his nose with the roll of rough brown paper towels back there, and even without that he’s too keyed up and pissed and miserable for human company, so it’s for the best.

He casts furtive recon glances to the bar where Steve sits, first craning his neck trying to spy Bucky, then brooding into his beer glass which makes Bucky feel like an asshole, then perking up at least a little shooting the shit with Sam, hopefully talking shit about Brock Dickface Rumlow. Then the misery wells up enough to get him to actually focus on work to avoid feeling it, and then it’s a few hours later and they’re closing up and he goes home to his little icebox and tires not to think about anything.

The next day, Sam chooses evil.

Steve and JB Barnes are both at least somewhat complex men, and it is always a bad idea to meddle in the affairs of others. But screw it, he’s had Bucky moaning in his ear for months now, and he was gonna have to recheck all his angry counting from last night, and these guys really seemed dumb enough to let the tension of mutual attraction strain between them until it just broke, some misunderstanding threw them both on the defensive or whatever, and they missed the chance at any of the fun part of connecting with each other.

So.

It isn’t a big surprise when Bucky calls him around 2, apologizing and pausing to make some gross “ihHgjshuhh!” noise, saying he was probably too sick with this cold to come in. What is a surprise, for poor Bucky, is Sam’s implacable response: “Duuude, I’m so sorry, but there’s some kinda convention in town and the place is packed, I need you here so bad, no matter what. You can take the next two days off, I’ll pay you.” He hears Bucky swallow back the what the hell and resignedly say ok. He feels diabolical. But hopefully it will be worth it. Steve usually comes in early on Thursdays, and he’d looked all hangdog-worried about Bucky the night before.

He’s been there twenty minutes already, chatting distractedly with Sam and staring at the TV screens but really looking all over the room like Bucky might be hiding somewhere. Bucky slouches in, ten minutes late, takes in the mostly empty room and gives Sam a betrayed glare.

“You really ndeeded mbe, huh,” he mutters as he puts his backpack away.

“You don’t even sound that bad,” Sam rejoins cheerfully, and Bucky’s mouth drops open with incredulity.

He moves some boxes around in back without issue. Then he tries to start prep by the bar. In a fifteen-minute period he has two sneezing fits that require him retreating to the bathroom to blow his nose endlessly and wash his hands. Sam decides that’s plenty sufficient. He and his customers are gonna pay a price in germ exposure for this stupid ass cupid skit he’s putting on.

“Steve, you believe this guy?” Bucky’s been avoiding Steve’s concerned hopeful looks since he got here. “He insisted on coming to work.” Bucky chokes in outrage, then coughs for real, while Steve moves a few seats closer. Sam turns; Bucky couldn’t look more betrayed if there was a knife with Sam’s name on it in his guts. Lord deliver him from dramatic white boys. “Did you take the bus here, Buck?” There was no other way for the guy to get to work, but he just replies flatly,

“Yeah.”

“You oughtta go home and rest.”

“Le me give you a ride, Buck,” Steve jumps in with the Air-Bud eagerness Sam had expected. They confirm it and bustle Barnes into a Civic while he’s sneezing too much to protest. Sam washes his hands metaphorically of the situation, and also very literally and thoroughly.

Steve’s car is a little old, and cold, and dusty. Bucky shivers as he buckles his seatbelt. He feels silently nervous and thrilled to be in Steve’s Car!!, but at the moment it’s hard to be anything but….sneezy…

“hhh-hh-hhmmPtchuh! S-s-sor-ry-hiihHIptchsh!” Holding them back when he feels like this just makes his nose more irritated and thus even sneezier. He stubbornly jams his fist under his nose to quell the tickle. He has some napkins from work, so a nose-blow is possible, but it doesn’t feel possible, not so close to Steve, who has it a million times more together than Bucky even on days when he isn’t falling apart on a cellular level.

“Bless you,” Steve says quietly. He looks at him reflexively, to see a small, sweet, sympathetic smile. “Ready?” Bucky gives a little nod and the car pulls out into the slushy road.

His nose is running onto his finger, it’s a crisis. This is why it’s always a terrible idea to leave the house when you’re really sick. “Ugh, I gotta blow mby ndose, I’mb sorry, I’mb so gross right ndow,” talking also makes his nose angry. Fucking Sam and his supervillain plan to humiliate him. What had he done to deserve this? He fumbles for the napkins with his less-dextrous left hand, the one he should have stuck under his nose, goddamnit, he’s gonna sneeze again…

“Psh, don’t worry about it,” scoffs Steve like the big huge dad he is, then with a sympathetic glance he turns the radio on, to the classic rock station, because of course, Bucky almost laughs even while racing to get tissues on his face before this giant wet sneeze overcomes him. The music is loud and it does help him feel less embarrassed.

“heh—HEH-KSSSHOOoo!” he gets the wad of napkins in front of him just in time. Blowing his nose after that demolishes them, but he feels a little closer to a human being.

“Bless you!” Steve chuckles. “Man you got a good bug, jeez!”

Why are he and Sam both so cheerful. “Thanks, I’mb glad you’re impressed,” he croaks.

“You have cold stuff at home?” Huh? When Bucky doesn’t answer he continues, “Tissues, tea, soup, medicine, you know?”

“Oh, umb, sorry, I’m tired,” Steve makes a sympathetic sound. “I usually just use toilet paper. I took the last of my Dayquil before work. I dunno if it even helped, all it feels like it did is mbake me jittery and sdeezy.”

“Why don’t we stop by a drugstore.” He sounded decisive.

“Oh, you don’t have to bother with that, really Steve—” he pauses to sniffle desperately. Technically he can afford a couple things, and he probably needs them. “Or—you could drop me off and I’ll get myself home from the store, that would totally be a big help—”

“Is the heat even on in your place?” Steve interrupts, shrewd-eyed. At Bucky’s wide-eyed sputtering response he continues, “I knew it. I used to be a broke Brooklyn kid, once upon a time. Only reason to come into work, am I right? Can’t believe landlords are still getting away with this shit.”

Bucky considers denial, then slumps. “S’why I’mb so much...hhh...worse...hh-huh-hudschuh! Snff-snff. Worse today. They said it’ll be fixed by tomorrow so...we’ll see, ha. I got a space heater and an electric kettle though, I can get in my blankets and drink tea and I’m fine.”

Steve is quiet, no response, and Bucky worries irrationally that he pissed him off. A few minutes of classic rock later, he pulls into the small parking lot attached to the drugstore, turns the car off, and turns to him, looking a little uncomfortable.

“Bucky I—” he breaks off and laughs to himself. “I know you have to be polite to customers, I don’t want to—” he makes eye contact, looking pained and rueful. “I’d like to think we’re friends. But I don’t want to put you on the spot or anything,”

“We’re friends,” Bucky interrupts gently. Steve’s face brightens like a sunrise and Bucky’s chest does a nice warm thing.

“Yeah? That’s...I’m real happy to hear it.” Steve says, sheepish but grinning. Then his eyes get the determined look that Bucky is starting to think means trouble. “Well the reason I asked is, as a friend, I really hate the idea of you trying to ride this out in an icebox apartment. I have heat. And a couch!” He hastens to add at whatever wide-eyed look Bucky’s giving him. “It’s just, I know it’s no fun being sick by yourself, and, well, honestly I wish I’d socked that asshole at the bar last night, and I really wish I’d clocked him as a jerk faster, and I’d feel a lot better if I could do something nice for you, and you really seem like you could do with some rest and medicine. Will you let me grab some stuff here and spend the night at my place—where there’s heat— and let me fuss over you?”

“Steve, that’s—that’s so nice, but I really can’t imb—snff—impose on you, and I gotta be so contagious right now…”

“I don’t care about that,” Steve says easily. “And I know you’re not gonna die on your own, but,” and, whoa, he’s deploying some kind of dignified mature version of puppy-dog eyes, it’s so sincere, and also so certain, that it starts to seem like the only sensible course of action is to let his gorgeous crush take him to his apartment while he’s the polar opposite of sexy, an unspeakable snot factory, and also possibly starting to run a fever.

….His apartment is gonna be so goddamn cold.

And lonely, incidentally.

And Steve is so nice. He’s literally, actually here, he seems to mean it that he wants to take care of Bucky’s sick bedraggled ass as some kind of friend-favor. There’s no way this is a come-on with him in this state, even if he can still muster enough energy to wish it was. No way Steve’s ever gonna want to fuck him after watching him snuffle through 200 tissues and mouth-breathe all evening, but he was nuts to think he ever would anyhow. He’s just that nice, and Bucky is that pathetic, and that might not feel great, but he wants to be Steve’s friend, he really does, and even through his own shyness he can see that the guy is pretty lonely.

“You, umb. You really don’t have to.” He says, watching Steve, who waits with obvious hopefulness. “But. Uh.” Steve raises his eyebrows and gives him a little smile, and Bucky finds himself returning it helplessly. “If you really don’t mbind. It could, potentially, be really ndice to take you up on that. You really don’t have to though!”

“I want to, though.” Jesus, he’s so sincere. Bucky feels some weird kind of protective way about the earnest honesty in his eyes.

“Well, then, okay. Thangk you, I really appreciate it.” He laughs, finally feeling how miserable it would have been to go back home and try to sleep in a cold blanket pile on his mattress on the floor. “Mby place sucks right now.”

“Alright then,” Steve beams. “Let’s get you a couple things and then get you cozy.”

Bucky’s nose is not okay with him using his face to talk instead of constantly blow it. It’s gotten completely blocked, and it’s tingling unpleasantly, and running so bad again he has to smush his knuckles under his nostrils. The tickle crests and his breath catches before he can do anything about it, but he clenches his jaw and forces it into a stifle. “hhh-huh-MMP!!” The problem with doing that is it just makes the tickle— “hh-mMP!” worse. “Ugh, sorry.” His hand is a dam against his nose at this point.

“Bless you!” They both step out of the car, but Steve hurries over to his side with a crinkle in his brow. “Why don’t you just stay here and I’ll grab a few things. Anything in particular, or just tissues and NyQuil?”

“Dyquil is just schndapps,” Bucky grumbles, then his brain catches up a little and he says “tissues,” fervently, and then it catches all the way up and he says “wait, ndo way are you buyig!”

Steve cocks an eyebrow like a handsome jerk. “You really wanna go in there?” With your current nose situation? He’s kind enough to not say.

He casts about for a moment—“Grab me a little pack and then I’ll go in!”

Steve gives him a skeptical look and says “Sure,” in a way that makes him think his orders won’t be followed, but he’s too busy squishing his nose more firmly and silently begging it not to make him sneeze again to keep arguing, or to protest when Steve opens the door for him and puts his car keys in his hand before dashing into the store with a promise to be quick.

He’s back not even ten minutes later, by which time holding his nose plugged and not letting his sneezes out has put Bucky in a state of perma-misery, stifling relentless sneezes every few seconds, unable to keep his eyes fully open. Steve tosses a box of tissues onto his lap before he gets all the way into the car because he is a saint.

“Guh,” Bucky says gratefully, pulls out a wad of about ten, and lets the miserable sneeze that had been building out into the nest of forgiving softness. “HehgSHOOmpff!!” And then blows his nose forever. Finally he feels like he can speak and have a face again; the little drugstore bag is now home to a dozen nasty used-tissue balls. “Well,” he says as he puts the last one in there, “wish I hadn’t had a witness for that.”

Steve just chuckles. “You’re fine,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing rumble. “I grabbed you a toothbrush, and I’ve got some stuff that can fit you for pjs.”

Bucky feels like he sneezed out the last of his strength. “You’re way too nice.” He sniffles and slumps against the window, looking at the familiar blur of orange streetlight. “I should be more worried you’re a serial killer.” Steve chuckles again, and he likes that, so he goes on, “Probly got a nice Jeffrey Dahmer setup at your place. Sorry if I don’t make a good steak.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Steve replies, sounding indignant. Then laughs for real, shaking his head, “I’m not gonna chop you up and eat you, I swear.”

“It’s fine. Just mbake mbe into soup,” sighs Bucky. That would be warm. He’ll just be a big hot pot of Bucky, and Steve will stir him and season him so carefully with his big strong hands. This is a weird train of thought. He might have a fever. But he can still hear Steve chuckling.

Steve pulls into his parking spot and the car shudders to stillness as he takes his key out of the ignition. Next to him, Bucky is asleep with his head mushed against the window. He’d conked out for the last five or so minutes of the drive. “Hey, Buck, we just got to my place,” he says softly, trying not to sound too bedroom-y. His eyes flutter open, the blue of them standing out, and Steve takes a steadying breath because Bucky is so good-looking it catches him off guard and overwhelms him sometimes.

His eyes are glassy-bright and there’s a flush high on his cheekbones, and as he shifts upright in his seat Steve reaches over and touches his forehead without thinking about it. It’s noticeably hot, but not burning. The twins’ childhood bouts with the flu gave him a sense of bad-fever heat. “Think you got a temperature,” he murmurs sympathetically. Bucky just blinks up at him, a little wide-eyed, and only then does he realize his big meaty hand is practically covering half his face. He feels himself flush to match Bucky, and for a second they just look at each other.

Until Bucky sniffs a miserable liquid sniffle and they both almost jump. “Sorry,” Steve mutters awkwardly, and Bucky’s saying the same thing at the same time. They both move to get out, “Just one flight of stairs up.”

“huh—tschumpf!” is Bucky’s answer, his nose buried in a new handful of tissues. “huhh, hUH—huh.” The second sneeze fizzles, leaving him blinking and frowning and wrinkling his nose snifflishly against the ticklish haze as he shuts the door. “Fuck. Sorry, scuse mbe.”

“Bless you.” It’s probably not normal to find someone so sick so adorable.

Steve leads him up and along the hall and then he’s unlocking the door, feeling giddy that he’s letting Bucky into his apartment, and then guilty for being excited, when the poor guy is just hesitantly accepting a much-needed favor. Bucky trails in behind him and then stands still while Steve sets the bag from the drugstore and started to turn to him, saying, “It’s not much, but—”

“ASHHOO!” Bucky’s sneeze interrupts and snaps him forward into his tissues, and then he just stays folded over for a second like it sapped the last of his energy. Then he straightens, rubbing his nose into the tissues and sighing. “Jesus, sorry,”

“Bless you! You don’t have to be sorry, you’ve just got a cold.” Steve has to hold himself still to keep from rubbing his back.

“You’re...hh-huh….? Snfff, ugh. Totally gonna catch this, I owe you way mbore apologies.”

“I won’t hold it against you,” he chuckles, toeing his shoes off. Bucky follows suit and he continues, “I stopped caring after raising toddlers, they’re little germ factories, you catch everything.” Why’d you bring up your old-dad status, Steve? “I’ll grab you some things to sleep in.”

An hour and one confrontation about Steve giving up his bed later, Bucky is ensconced on his couch like the king of cold-medicine commercials, surrounded by blankets and pillows and tissues and steaming cups and bowls. He feels a little more human, which is nice, but lets him access how incandescently awkward he feels at being rescued from his idiotic life like a snotty Cinderella. Steve has been flitting back and forth between the couch and kitchen, fussing over him to a truly excessive degree while exuding satisfaction and cheer, like some kind of calendar-model Santa with a caretaking kink. He was practically rubbing his hands together at the prospect of getting Bucky blankets and tea on his couch. Now he’s giving a rundown of his TV system standing next to the couch and it feels the tiniest bit manic and Bucky can feel himself getting a little too quiet but he can’t help it. After a minute Steve notices, and sets the remote down.

“I should stop babbling at you and leave you in peace,” he says with a bashful chuckle, turning to leave the room.

“No, I— you don’t—” Bucky doesn’t really have a response beyond ‘please chill out and hang out with me and let me picture cuddling with you,’ which will not be said aloud.

“You really don’t hafta feel like you need to entertain me, Bucky.”

“It’s not, I don’t,” he sighs and then sniffles. He doesn’t want to sit here and stare at the wall and stress about this, alone in this room in Steve’s goddamn apartment. He maybe should have thought about just how much he’d fallen for Steve before taking him up on this offer, because the concern and sweetness and fussing are starting to ratchet up his anxiety, because what if there was a chance it meant—

“Is anything the matter?” Steve crouches smoothly to be on his level and torment him with his eyes’ blueness. When all Bucky can do for a moment is flounder he looks more concerned, and a little downcast. “I really don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. If anything’s bothering you, you can just tell me.”

What the hell is an ordinary sinner supposed to do in the face of this much sincerity? Act like he thinks he’s a damn grownup, Bucky guesses, and girds his nervous loser loins.

“Why’re you—” he starts, frowning, then cuts himself off and tries again with a small, apologetic smile.

“It’s just...this is such an imposition, and you seem...kinda weirdly happy about it? I just don’t get why.”

One side of Steve’s mouth quirks up, making him look dry and self-deprecating and unfairly handsome. “You’re worried I’m gonna start talkin about Scientology, or put you in my basement dungeon?”

Bucky shrugs. “Kinda.” Just ‘cause he went home with strangers didn’t mean he had no sense.

Steve seems to cast about for an explanation, and he also starts to turn pink. “It’s—you’re just so—” and then he sighs and sits on the end of the couch, next to his blanketed feet, addressing his words to the wall in a rush. “Honestly, Bucky? I have a huge crush on you, and,” he laughs in embarrassment, decidedly blushing now, “I’m just real happy to have a chance to take care of you in whatever little way.” Now he does turn to look at him, pained. “I’m sorry, that must be so uncomfortable to hear. I promise you’re not my hostage! Please don’t make a break for it, it’s cold out and you’re so sick. I swear I’m not Cathy Bates in Misery.”

“Y—hihdsschuh!” The sneeze catches him by surprise, but he has wadded-up tissues in his hand already anyhow. He has to blow his nose, and he does it thoroughly to buy time. Steve stares stoically at the ceiling as though waiting for sentencing. Is this seriously Steve telling Bucky...he likes him?

“You…” he stops, sniffs. He needs a plan. He doesn’t have one. His mouth is gonna keep moving anyway, “You said, ‘you’re just so—‘, what were you gonna say?”

Steve looks confused for a second, and then just helpless. “Bucky, you’re just so sweet. I’m happy for a chance to do something for you because I owe you, you get that, right?”

“Owe me?” Bucky asks, nonplussed. Steve laughs with what seems like disbelief at his confusion.

“Yes, Buck! For the last few months! For taking pity on me that first night I came into Sam’s. You asked me a question about antifreeze.”

“Yeah,” Bucky murmurs. His world is rearranging itself. Steve remembered that?

“I feel—real self-conscious, I guess, coming into the “scene,” he gives it air-quotes and Bucky’s heart swells a little more, “by the route I have. Y’know, married dad who woke up one day and realized the stuff he repressed at sixteen might be the real him. Sam’s was the third place I tried to go into. I just felt so ridiculous, I still do— 39-year-old brand-new gay dude, it’s idiotic. I was practically gonna have a panic attack, I was definitely gonna leave and not try again and just...stop trying in general, maybe, to figure this new scary shit out. Except you were there, this—this smokin-hot guy, and you’re acting like you actually want to talk to me, and… so I stayed. And came back.” He looks Bucky in the eyes and it makes Bucky’s stomach clench. “I feel like you’ve been taking care of me this whole time, helping me ease into things, helping me not to feel bad about being completely uncool, asking me about stuff I actually know about instead of laughing at me because I’ve never heard of ‘poppers’,”

At that, Bucky has to give in to the giggle bubbling out of him, which inevitably leads to a short coughing fit. His first instinct is to keep laughing, rake Steve over the coals, but Steve is looking at him with a careful sort of expression, and it occurs to Bucky that just because he’s older and seems like he has it all together and has great posture doesn’t mean he’s immune to feeling vulnerable. And he looks like he’s feeling really fucking vulnerable right now. Acting like Bucky is worthy of this adorable schoolboy crush is absurd, but it’s not like it was so many eons ago that little baby Bucky Barnes was having his First Gay Bar experience, and he’d been scared as shit.

He already feels like he missed the boat on his life. Steve is starting over at 39. He’s so fucking brave. Bucky...somehow, unthinkably, Bucky is in a position where he could really hurt this guy.

“I’mb, umb. Snfff. Thing is, I’m a little surprised…” And Steve must think that’s the prelude to rejection because he pulls this sad little smile onto his face that’s the worst thing Bucky’s ever seen, and he has to make it go away, “It’s just, to hear you tell it I took pity on you and I’ve been talking to you to, like, guide you along and coach you because I’m some saint!” He smiles, starting to feel amused. “Steve— I just wanted some reason to talk to you, dude.”

Steve blinks at him. “What?”

He has to laugh, putting his forehead in his hand. “Sorry. I, just, I have not been operating under the assumption that I had a chance with you? And now it sounds like you’re telling me I do? While I sit on your couch filling your trash can with my disgusting tissue mountain?”

All he gets from the man is “...Huh?”

“You said ‘crush’,” he insists, and he’s not laughing, his heart is pounding actually. “What did you mean by that?” He’s gonna awkwardly say that he wants to fuck, and once that box is checked in his Gay Awakening, he’ll move on to actually date people actually in his league, and that’s maybe not gonna feel great, but, well…

Steve looks up from staring at his hands, makes eye contact, and he looks a little confused and a lot like he’s facing a firing squad. “I meant, I mean that…” he blows a breath out. “Jesus I have no idea what I’m doing. I mean that I’ve been trying to work up the courage to ask you out on a date, since pretty much the first night I met you.”

Bucky’s head does a record scratch and Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes, “But I guess instead I kidnapped you when you were sick and blurted this out to you while you were trapped on my couch waiting to be left alone to sleep. I was never smooth but I swear I’ve done better than this.”

A giddy feeling is rising up in Bucky’s chest, making him forget completely about how tired and crappy he feels. “Well, I am smooth,” he says, “I’ve got game. At least, I did, until you showed up and turned me into a giggling bimbo. What the hell, Steve.”

“This is starting to seem like a romantic conversation but I can’t tell,” murmurs Steve with his face still uncertain but a little twinkle in his eye.

Bucky’s nose is gonna ruin this, he’s surprised it gave him that long a grace period. “Yeah, snfff, real romantic, I’mb gonna—hih—fuckin’ sndeeze—heh-heTShoo! Againd.”

Another sneeze teases out, and then he has to blow his nose for about ten years. “Bless you,” says Steve all quiet and bedroomy in his deep voice, and he’s definitely smiling, sparkle-eyes, leaning towards him the tiniest bit, but still looking like Bucky’s leaving him hanging a little, unsure, and he can’t help the wave of doubt he feels.

“Steve, you—” he stares at the blanket on his lap. “I’m a mess. You’ve accomplished shit, you have a real goddamn job, I—I’m just, ok, we’re both adults, but I feel like a screw-up kid compared to you.” He takes a deep breath and says what he doesn’t want to, “I’d be...pretty damn flattered if you wanted to hook up. I kinda can’t imagine you actually want to date me.”

He dares to look up and Steve looks more serious. He doesn’t say, “no shit.” He says, “I won’t argue if you say you don’t want anything, but I sure don’t agree with how you describe yourself. I don’t want to hook up—at least, not just that— I want to date you, get to know each other better, because I like you. I trust my judgement, when I think someone’s a good person.”

He says it so simply, and Bucky finds himself believing it despite himself, and a warm happy fire is kindling under his ribs. “Well, shit,” he murmurs, “it’s starting to seem like you’re asking me out.”

“It’s...starting to seem like you might be saying yes? If I am?” Steve looks agonized and Bucky’s doubts are no match for the giddiness fizzing up inside him, and he lets it show on his face with a grin, and whatever that looks like makes Steve kinda gulp and scootch up closer to him. Bucky makes a show of giving a slow, considering nod. Yes.

Steve has this soft, nervous little smile on his face, but his eyes hold something weighty, almost burning, as he moves even closer, and it’s just, it’s really, wow, Bucky has maybe never been taken seriously in quite this way by anyone before, it makes his knees feel watery and kindles something in his core. “I know you’re sick,” he rumbles, “but I feel like I gotta kiss you,” and how is it that the softer he speaks the deeper his voice sounds? He brushes his curled fingers over Bucky’s cheek because that’s how close they are now and this isn’t really Bucky’s life, is it? “What if I was to kiss you, right now?”

It’s hard to tell with the sexiness melting his brain but he realizes Steve is actually asking, because he’s a gentleman— a gentleman Bucky wants to be taken apart and turned inside out by. “Then you would be a guaranteed victim of my plague,” he breathes. “But I wouldn’t stop you, I’m not that selfless.”

“Sounds like a dare,” Steve murmurs, and tilts his head and presses their lips together.

It’s a short simple kiss but they each give a quiet gasp at the contact, and then stay there a moment. Steve’s beard isn’t huge but he feels it, like a firm underline to the shockingly warm plush pressure of his lips. He thankfully tragically remembers that congested people can’t make out and pulls away after just a brief press of lips, but not before giving a soft lick to Bucky’s, full of promised things to come.

They sit there a few inches apart and breathe. Bucky feels like a vibrating tuning fork. He just barely stops himself from shakily saying “wow,” like a highschool virgin, but when he sees Steve looking at him with lips still parted and a gobsmacked expression he changes his mind and lets it out anyway, “wow,” with a giddy grin.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, blinking like he got hit with a cartoon hammer, going from pink to red, and then he swoops in and kisses Bucky’s cheek, and then stands, going, “Excuse me, just gotta go...out of your sightline, and. Do something cool. And serious. No victory dances.”

…..the next morning…….

Steve could hear Bucky in the shower, sneezing three times, but not sounding—four times—nearly as heavy or exhausted as the night before. A few minutes and one loud noseblow later, he came out wrapped in a towel, mercilessly bare-chested, his nose bright red but his eyes clear and cheerful. Steve’s attention caught on his chest as his nipples tightened in the relative chill as Bucky said sheepishly, “forgot my clo-hothes—” his voice swooping to a breathy quaver on the last word, “hhh-hh-hehh—EHisSHOooh!” he turned as far away from Steve’s part of the room as possible and sneezed over his shoulder. “Snnfff. Excuse me, sorry.”

“Can I lend you some warmer stuff, just for now while we eat breakfast? There’s no way you’re not still sick,” Steve fussed, forcing himself to round the kitchen island slowly and casually instead of rushing over and wrapping him up in his arms and kissing his red nose that was twitching again. He quelled it with another sniff that sounded a lot less congested than the previous night.

“Ah, I’m ok. I felt really bad yesterday, but I slept so well,” he said with a warm grateful smile at Steve that went to his toes, “I don’t feel shitty and run-down anymore, just all, like, shnuffly.”

Steve chuckled helplessly and went over to rub his shoulder. “You’re adorable.”

“No way!” Bucky glowered, but then a few drops fell from his wet hair to his chest and neck, and he shivered into a sneeze so quick and light it sounded incomplete, “hih—tish!” followed by “ih-hihtchoo!” and he blinked, taken by surprise.

“That was... the cutest thing that ever happened,” Steve said truthfully.

“Shuddup— heh—edschoo!”

[nathanbatemanfucker]

The Dead Horse

summary: santi brings you back to reality.

pairing: fem!black!reader x santi garcia

contents: angst & fluff— happy ending, canon typical violence, blood, gore, ptsd, depression, feelings of hopelessness, friends to lovers, kissing

wc: 2,419

an: this has been sitting in my drafts for a while now bc of nerves, but always wanted to write Santi with a black love interest. planning to dip my toe into that pool more in the future 🥰

oscar issac characters masterlist

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting here like this. It could be minutes, hours, even days. In these four walls beneath the shower’s spray, there is nothing that matters. Not even you, not anymore. And while you’re usually the first to be cheery, to tell each of the guys that the work they do— the work you all do together— doesn’t compromise the goodness you see in their hearts, you’re having a hard time believing that right now.

Not with what you’d done. It was to survive, and while you’ve come to terms with how scary you could be in the past you thought it stayed there.

In the past.

Tonight had proven to you that you could always access that piece of you. That terrifying piece that was a killing machine. The emphasis doesn’t lie in efficiency, but in ruthlessness. You had shown no mercy, the switch for empathy and compassion turned off as soon as your hindbrain decided that it was fight or flight. Dormantly thirsty, lurking in the shadows waiting for its time, it chose to fight. But you had gone a step too far—like always— because of your lack of control.

You were messy, enjoying the cutting of thick flesh, the warmth of the blood as it sprayed you. The copper smell, so familiar and embarrassingly comforting, though you didn’t have the mind to think that now, not when you were exposing the pink underbelly of a corpse.

Santi’s been pacing the hallway since you all made it back to the safe house. He’d tried to chat you up on the way home with no success. You wouldn’t meet his eye, and when he drew nearer to catch your gaze it was empty. It chilled his blood. He wasn’t sure of what exactly happened in that room you’d gotten ambushed in but he’d seen the aftermath. Recalling the image of standing over one too many dead bodies, a gleam in your eye had made his stomach curl. He’d smoothed his hand over your knee and left it at that, trying his best to banish all the red and pink and white.

It’s been an hour since you’d stumbled into the bathroom. He can hear the shower still going when he puts his ear to the door and sighs, a mix of frustrated and concerned. He’s not sure what to do– he’s never had to take care of you before. He’s always been grateful for that given all the fondness he has for you bubbling just beneath. Any acknowledgement could jeopardize too much– missions, the dynamic of the team, and most importantly your friendship.

“You alright in there?” He calls softly through the door.

He’s met with silence. He rolls his neck, cursing beneath his breath as his mind goes back and forth, trying to decide what to do.

“Just go in there and check on her,” Frankie says from behind him, causing the other man to flinch. “Didn’t mean to scare you. You alright?”

“I’m fine,” Santi assures Frankie, leaning against the wall to face the man. He nods at the door. “She could be naked.”

Frankie snorts, shrugging. “She’s seen all of us at least half naked and well, Benny—“

Santi quickly cuts him off, trying to keep the sour jealousy out of his voice. He knows that there’s nothing going on between you and Benny, that Benny is as much of a flirt as he is but sillier and less concerned with his image. “But we haven’t seen her. I don’t— I’m a dog but I’m a respectful one.”

“If she’s gonna get help from anybody on this it’d be you. She trusts you man.”

Santi looks at him like he’s grown two heads but feels a little warm, “She trusts all of us, kind of a prerequisite of living and working with a group of men.”

“It's different with you. You should hear the way she talks about you when you’re not around.”

Santi almost lets himself think about it. Almost lets himself dream a little. Almost.

“Or see the way she looks at you when you’re not looking. Like a lost fucking puppy,” Benny pipes in, breezing down through the hallway between the two of them.

“Don’t sound so concerned, Benjamin,” Santi calls after the man, mouth quirking into a grin.

“Don’t look so smug, Santiago,” Frankie teases.

“I’m not smug,” He denies. He decides to go in, okay with being kicked out by you if it means that Frankie will be gone, done poking and prodding at what the man must know is his heart.

“Good luck.”

Santi murmurs a quiet thanks before slowly entering the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He stands, frozen in place for several moments as he digests the sight of you. It's heartbreaking. His chest goes tight, and he curses softly again. What could he do for you? He’d do anything, but he’s just not sure what. He feels helpless seeing you like this. He could burn this entire city, burn anyone who would look at you wrong. Hell, he’d burn the entire world if it meant some warmth would come back into your eyes.

You’re curled up, your arms resting atop your knees, head resting to stare forward. Your curly hair that usually frames your face is completely soaked like the rest of you, flat and sticking to your face in various places. He knows that your eyes are unseeing, that you’re so incredibly removed from yourself because you make no indication that he’s stepped into the room.

“I’m gonna come sit beside you, okay? That’s it. No words,” Despite his words he stays where he is for a handful of seconds, hoping to get some sort of answer from you. You don’t speak a word, don’t utter or sound or so much as look in his direction. But you do shift slowly, making more room for him underneath the water.

“Fuck, it’s freezing,” He grits out, drawing close enough to you that your shoulders rest flush against each other.

He gazes over at you, noticing the way the water glimmers on your brown skin. The way its collected on your dark eyelashes. If these were different circumstances maybe for just a handful of seconds he’d let himself get lost in your beauty. But then you acknowledge him– sort of. You hum softly and the leaning of your head on his shoulder. It's a good sign and he relaxes beside you.

“Do you want me to shut it off?” He asks gently, reaching out to take your hands into his. Your fingers are cold as ice, and he rubs at them in a futile attempt to generate some heat.

“No, please. No,” You beg hoarsely, suddenly springing to life. You grip at his hands desperately, eyes wide with panic as you finally meet his gaze.

“Alright, hush, cariño, I’ve got you. C’mere, baby,” He shushes you, pulling you into his arms and flush against him.

At little more present in the moment, you feel the chill registering. You curl up, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. There’s still some warmth in his skin and you press into it, letting the sound of his steady breath lull you back into a dissociative state.

Santi holds you for an undetermined amount of time. He runs his hands up your back, over the crown of your hair, feeling the difference of how your curls feel when wet. His hand drifts to your chin, and he leans away, tipping your head up.

“Honey, you’ve gotta talk to me,” He whispers.

Your dark eyes have a little more life to them, but that’s only amplified the sadness they hold. “Santi, I can’t. I can’t. Don’t make me, please.”

“I have to, you can’t stay like this. We’ve got to get it out in the open.”

“Like you do?” You challenge– your voice distinctly unkind, harder than he’s ever heard it before. His brow furrows and guilt blossoms inside of you. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have. This just fucking sucks, Santiago. Its all wrong again.”

“Tell me what’s wrong and we’ll fix it.”

“There’s no way we can fix it. I’m just broken. I’ll always be haunted by her. She’ll always be here, waiting for an opportunity for that.”

“You preach that shit to me and the guys. Day in and day out. Every mission, and you don’t believe it?”

“I do— I did. I believe it for you. For them. You’re good people, Santi. Good men, all of you. You take care of me.”

“You take care of us, honey. Fish hangs on your every word. Will too. Benny is well— Benjamin.”

“And you?”

He shrugs, “You know I gave into this a long time ago. Before we even met. No other way for me to be.”

“Do you believe me?”

“I try to. I want to. There are parts of me too that I don’t like. I want them gone. I rip them up and bury them but they always come back to haunt me. I don’t think that means I’m not trying to be better, but it means I’ll never be the man I want to be.”

You frown at him, concerned, “Santi—“

“It’s okay. I accepted that after the first tour. Sometimes you gotta let the horse be dead.”

“Do you think my horse is dead?”

There’s no room for his ego, no room for hiding when he hears the blatant fear in your question.

He rests his head back against the wall, murmuring, “I think you’re the sweetest thing this earth has to offer.”

“You think so?”

“Bouncing around with your curls, and your sweet little smile. Kicking Benny’s ass with grace while you’ve got a cake in the oven. You should see yourself with Frankie’s little girl.”

“Seems like you watch me a lot,” You suggest softly.

“I watch you all the time,” He admits, but there’s no shame in his voice. In fact you can see resolve in his eyes, and possessiveness. A chill runs down your spine and it’s not from the water. Santi mistakes it for that anyway. “Let me turn this off for us?”

He’s still asking. Still checking in with you though there’s much more light in your eyes.

“Yeah, okay.”

Santi leans up and turns off the shower, letting out a sigh of relief. He runs his hands over your wet curls, pushing them away from your forehead. His thumbs swipe your cold cheeks, brushing away some of the water droplets.

Without that steady sound of the shower, sheets cascading down on you, you both are feeling a little more exposed.

“I came in here to make sure you were alright, not spill my fucking guts. I just had to take care of you,” He says, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant.

“You can always take it back,” You say teasingly, though most of you expect him to bite at your offer.

He’s said much more in these last few minutes than he ever has to you— Santi’s a sweet guy under all his charm, but he never lets you see below the surface. Not until now, when letting you in seemed like the only way to get you out.

It takes more effort than he expects to pull himself away from you. He leans back against the shower wall, nimble fingers lacing together in his lap. “And lose you?”

“You could never lose me, Santi,” You murmur, reaching out to grab one of his hands.

Your eyes roam him, a little in disbelief at what’s happening right now. But yes, it is Santiago Garcia sitting next to you. With his dark brown eyes, his sharp jaw dappled with stubble, his salt and pepper hair looking much darker and curlier than usual due to the water.

“Yeah?” Santi asks, eyes glued to where yours sits atop his. He traces slowly over the sight of you two linked together, admiring how soft and rich your skin looks even after sitting in a shower for so long.

He’s a goner isn’t he?

“Yeah.”

There are butterflies in his stomach. Butterflies, sweat slicking his palms despite the fact that he’s soaked through his clothes and down to the bone. He realizes in this moment that he’s not just a goner. No— he loves you. He knew that he was harboring some kind of feelings for you, but when your eyes meet his— earnest and tender— he can only think one thing: I love you.

His eyes hungrily drop to your full mouth, and another shiver runs down your spine. “Let me kiss you.”

You nod, squeezing his hand that’s still in yours.

“I need to hear you say it. You have to say it for me, so I can believe it.”

“I want you to kiss me, Santiago. Please.”

He’s on you then. All over you. His hands move quickly, guiding you back into his lap before one loops around your torso and holds you close. The other cups your jaw, angling it back so that he can press his mouth to yours. You’re breathless before the space between you is closed, chest heaving at how sure and firm his hands are. He kisses you. Kisses and kisses you, like his life depends on it. Like you’re lost and the only thing that will guide you home is his insistent tongue.

Your hands slip and slide against the fabric of his wet shirt before you give up, raising them to tentatively cup his face so that you can have leverage.

“That’s it honey, kiss me back. Take what you want to. Whatever you need,” He encourages between kisses.

Take you do. You squirm in his lap until he lets you shift and straddle him. It had started with him leading you, consuming you but now it’s your turn to surround him. Santi gives in, sighing into your mouth as your tongue goes on the hunt for his. You kiss him. Kiss him and kiss him until your mouth aches. When you pull away his is flushed pink, newly wet. You run your thumb over his lips before wiping your own mouth.

He looks up at you like hang the moon. His eyes are soft and hazy, pink mouth pulling up into a smirk. There’s the Santi you know. The Santi you love. But even now, he’s softer and sweeter, gathering you close again.

“What do you need now, sweetheart? What can I do to make it better?”

“You.”

“I’m yours.”

santi taglist: @jitterbugs927, @theconsultingdoctor10, @tanzthompson, @clairevoyanceee, @moonmalice, @tiffanypooh, @dearvirtualdiary-blog1, @marc-spectorr, @xbellaxcarolinax, @toracainz, @mccn-bcys, @missdictatorme, @whatthefishh

[losfacedevil]

Dial Drunk // CW JTK

a/n~ Jakes decisions land him in quite the sticky situation…

This is all for @vanfleeter & @writingcold don’t hate me, I love you both

WARNINGS: Angst, drunk driving, police presence, arrest.

Jakes foot felt like lead as he let it relax against the gas pedal and his speedometer increased another 10mph - now fully breaking the speed limit. He couldn’t have cared less as he sang along to the song that played on the radio, his words fully slurred as the alcohol he had consumed seeped out of all of his pores.

The telltale red and blue lights flashing into his rear view mirror and surrounding him in the colorful glow tipped him off to the cops well before their sirens sounded. But Jake kept zooming at the same speed, not bothering to decelerate and deescalate the problem he was now causing for himself. With a roll of his eyes he jerked the wheel to the left and rolled slowly to a stop, throwing the car into park and rolled the window down.

Jake watched closely in his rear view mirror as the cop got out of his cruiser and straightened his vest, slowly sauntering over to the drivers side of Jakes car. The cop placed both hands on the windowsill of Jakes car and leaned down so he was eye level with Jake. His eyes crossed as he tried to focus his vision on the officer who now held a pen sized flashlight in his hand, aiming the stream of light into the car.

“Do you know why I pulled you over?” The cop jumped right to the point, his brows raised as he watched Jakes eyes roll in his head. Jake shook his head and squinted his eyes, the sudden movements causing a throbbing to settle behind his right eye.

“License and registration.” The cop ordered, watching on as Jake made no move to turn to his glove box or lift his hips to dig his wallet out of his back pocket.

“Alright, I need you to step out of the vehicle.” The cop mumbled and pushed off of the windowsill, taking a step back to give Jake the space to swing the door open. Jake screwed up his face and puffed out his cheeks, swallowing the overproduction of saliva in his mouth and willed away the nausea that was settling in his stomach. He reached out and wrapped his hands around the steering wheel hard enough to cause his knuckles to turn white. His mind was made up and he wasn’t moving.

The cop tapped the toe of his boot against the concrete and made a show of checking his watch before turning his gaze back to Jake. He reached up to the walkie that hung on the collar of his vest and, pressing the button, he spoke softly into the device to request back up; knowing full well Jake was about to be difficult and resist what needed to be done. He stepped back up to the side of the car and dipped his head to be able to see Jake still sitting put in the drivers seat.

“I’m gonna ask you nicely once more, son. I need you to step out of the vehicle, please.” Jake kept his gaze fixated on the traffic light up ahead, his hands now beginning to ache due to his tight grip on the steering wheel. He rolled his lips between his teeth and bit down, pulling a deep breath through his nose as he let his eyes flutter shut. He shook his head once, solidifying his decision to not budge.

A sigh slipped past the cops lips as he reached out and wrapped his hand around the handle of the door. He pulled gently on the handle and slowly disengaged the doors mechanism and pulled the door fully open. His eyes never left Jakes side profile, watching as tears pooled in the man’s eyes, telling the cop all he needed to know.

“I’ll give you a suggestion son, when my back up gets here, don’t resist the arrest. Not all of us have a heart.”

Jake cut his gaze in the direction of the cop, though his head never moved, and he sniffled lightly, trying to will back the tears in his eyes. Pulling a deep breath in through his nose, he swallowed hard and opened his mouth to speak.

“M’not resisting… m’just not moving.” Jake slurred, relaxing his grip on the steering wheel when he realized the cop wasn’t going to manhandle him out of the car. The cop took a step back and reached for his walkie once more, a call for an ETA being quietly mumbled into the speaker. He crossed his arms over his chest as he watched Jake slowly begin to relax, letting his grip on the steering wheel loosen completely and leaned back to press his back firmly against the seat.

“Son, are you a danger to yourself, or others?” The cop asked, knowing the risk factor the speed at which he had been traveling was a danger. Jake shook his head as the tears he had been fighting began to roll down his cheeks and he reached up, running a hand down his face to rid the tears. A sigh slipped past Jakes nose and he leaned his head back against the seat of the car.

“No danger… just… pain.” Jake kept his voice low, hoping the cop hadn’t heard the words that slipped past his lips. His hand found its way to his chest, the physical feeling of his heart breaking in his chest sending a lightening bolt of pain straight through to his back as if an arrow had penetrated his body.

The sound of sirens in the distance signaled the arrival of more authorities, their cars zipping around to block Jakes car in place as well as a tow truck to haul it away. He kept his eyes trained on the cruiser kiddie cornered next to the front end of his car, watching as a female cop who resembled Serenia emerged from the darkness of the cab.

A choked sob he didn’t mean to let escape danced up Jakes throat and slipped past his lips, gripping at his shirt as the tears he fought began to slip freely down his cheeks. He watched as the cops convened at the front of his car, watching him through the windshield as they spoke amongst themselves quietly.

“You can smell the alcohol on him but he says he’s not resisting, he’s just not moving.” The officer spoke, eyeing Jake though the windshield as their female counterpart made her way to his drivers side.

“That is resisting, Wunschel.” The officer mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest as he eyes his colleague warily. Officer Wunschel nodded and watched as the female officer tried to reason with

Jake. He held his hands up and swung his legs out of the car, pushing to stand and kept his hands level with the sides of his head. Officer Wunschel breathed a sigh of relief and slowly made his way over to where Jake stood. Jake held his breath as he sized up Officer Wunschel and let his hands fall to his sides.

“You’re under arrest for driving while under the influence, son. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. I’m sorry it’s come to this, son.” Officer Wunschel spoke, reaching forward he wrapped his hand around Jakes wrist and motioned for him to turn as he unclasped the handcuffs from his belt loop.

“Are you in possession of anything that can hurt yourself or others?” Officer Wunschel asked, watching as Jake slowly shook his head. He pulled Jake up from where he was leaning against the car and pushed his foot between Jakes, positioning them properly before doing a quick pat down of his body.

Officer Wunschel stood and put his hands on Jakes shoulders, turning him in the direction of his cruiser. He placed a hand on the top of Jakes head and helped his maneuver his body into the cruiser without bumping his head. The officer sighed and shook his head and he reached in and buckled Jakes seatbelt for him.

“Son, why do you do this to yourself?” The officer mumbled as he shut the door and slid into the drivers seat, the correctional facility being in destination.

~*~*~

“Call my wife.”

Jakes eyes never left the untied lace of his left shoe as he sat waiting to be booked. His wrists remained in cuffs, secured behind his back as they used his drivers license to input the basic information into the system.

Officer Wunschel sighed as he placed a hand on Jake’s shoulder and leaned him forward, swiftly unlocking the hand cuffs and letting his hands free. Pulling them around in front of him he rubbed at his wrists with his now free hands, soothing the spot that had been resting up against the handcuffs.

“I said… call my wife.” He began to raise his voice as he stood and followed the officer to the desk, and a mug shot was taken. A sigh slipped past his lips and he rolled his eyes as he stepped up to the desk and handed over his finger prints, something he never thought he would do in his lifetime.

“Call my WIFE!” Jake was angry now, the feel good moment of his drunken high finally wearing off as the harsh hand of reality slapped him in the face. Officer Wunschel shook his head, and a sigh slipped past his nose as he replaced the handcuffs on Jake’s wrists. Jake fought against them, not wanting to be restrained any longer.

“It’s for your own safety… and mine.” The officer sighed and placed a hand on Jake’s shoulder, pushing him down into the chair he had originally been sitting in. Jake let his head fall against the wall, smacking the back of it and pulled a groan from his own chest. Officer Wunschel watched on as Jake shifted uncomfortably in his chair and he pushed Jake forward slightly. A soft sigh slipped past the officers nose as he unlocked one of the handcuffs and brought his hands around in front of him, securing the cuffs around his wrist once more.

“Better?” He asked, pulling up a chair and sat next to Jake. He nodded his head slowly and pushed the cuff down a bit, wrapping his fingers around his raw wrist and rubbed soothingly. Jake hung his head and let his mind wandered as his eyes fluttered shut, completely unaware of what was next to come.

“What’s her name, son? Your wife. Where can we reach her?” Officer Wunschel questioned, leaning forward for rest his forearms against his knees as he tired to find Jake’s gaze. Jake’s eyes widened and he lifted his head, turning it in the officers direction.

“It’s… it’s uh, Serenia. Her number…” A sigh slipped past Jakes lips and he pulled in a deep breath, fighting the tears that were welling up in his eyes. He nodded towards the phone they had confiscated from him and tucked away safely in a manila envelope.

“It’s my in case of emergency number.” Jake mumbled. The feeling of defeat washed through his chest as he leaned back in the chair and rested his head against the wall once more. Officer Wunschel retrieved Jakes phone and pulled up Serenia’s number swiftly before hitting the call option and putting the phone on speaker. The line rang, and rang, and rang until her voicemail picked up and her soft voice floated through the speaker.

“You have reached Serenia, I am unable to pick up the phone right now but if you leave a message I’ll get back to you later, thanks!”

Office Wunschel sighed as he hung up the call and turned to Jake. His face portrayed a fully defeated expression and fresh tears rolled down his cheeks as he realized she wasn’t going to save him this time. He fought the way his lips wanted to down turn into a frown and pulled a deep, and steadying breath in through his nose.

The officer stood and nodded towards his colleague, a silent request for him to escort Jake to where he needed to be. Taking a step forward, he lifted the receiver from the base of the phone and quickly dialed in the number that was displayed on the cellphone screen. After two rings the line came alive and a soft voice answered.

“Hello.” Officer Wunschel could tell she was fighting the annoyance that wanted to creep into her tone.

“Hi, my name is Officer Wunschel down at Smithfield police station, is this Mrs. Serenia Kiszka?” The officer asked, hoping he hadn’t misdialed the number. A deep sigh could be heard on the other line, and he imagined the woman rolling her eyes at the words he had just spoken.

“This is she… what did he do this time?” Officer Wunschel’s eyes grew wide at the accusatory tone her voice help. The officer took a deep breath and steadied himself before speaking.

“Well he was doing fifty in a twenty, and he failed the field sobriety test. We ask that you come pick him up and if you cannot we will have to transport him to the local correctional facility.” The sinister chuckle that slipped past Serenia’s lips had Officer Wunschels eyes widening once more.

“You know… I don’t think I will come and get him. He’s made his bed and he can lie in it. Thank you for your time, Officer Wunschel.” With that the line went dead. The officer pulled a deep breath in through his nose and turned to face his colleague and Jake.

“Put him in the interrogation room and get him a bottle of water. He’s in for a long night.” He spoke, turning to Jake with a sad smile spreading across his lips.

“She’ll see you in the morning… I hope.”

Jakes face fell and new tears sprang to his eyes. Using the remaining strength he had, he pushed himself to stand and followed the other officer into the interrogation room down the hall. The female officer pulled out the chair for him and held it still as he rested down against it, plopping his still cuffed hands onto the table top.

“I’m going to take these off so you’re more comfortable, but you need to behave.” Her voice was just a whisper as she leaned down and gently removed the cuffs from his wrists. A soft sigh slipped past Jakes lips as he reached up and rubbed at his wrists where the cold metal had been digging in previously. The female officer retreated and left the interrogation room, clicking the door shut lightly behind her.

All of the emotions Jake had been suppressing in the presence of the officers came flooding to the forefront of his mind. The anger he felt towards himself, anger towards Serenia for allowing him to just sit here and wallow in his self pity all night. The anguish, pain, tears and despair he felt didn’t compare to anything he had felt while buzzed. Any happiness and joy he may have felt now proving to be fake.

“You’re so fucking stupid.” He muttered to himself and reached up, pressing the side of his fist against his forehead. He fought the urge to scream at the top of his lungs; knowing that would only draw much unwanted attention to him. Pulling a deep breath in through his nose, he held it to the count of ten and a new wave of hot tears prickled the backs of his eyes.

“She’s everything you ever fucking wanted and what did you do? You went and stuck your tongue down some hussys throat and now look! She wants nothing to do with your sorry ass.” He spoke to himself in a whispered tone, unaware that the interrogation room was under video surveillance even when not in proper use.

“And now look… you’ve gone and gotten so shit faced you were taken in for a DUI and your CAR WAS TOWED! Josh is gonna have a field day with that one.” A deep sigh slipped past his lips as he placed his elbows on the table and rested his chin in the palms of his hands. His eyes fluttered shut and he let himself get lost in his thoughts.

Serenia was sat in the middle of a picnic blanket, curled up in one one Jakes favorite sweatshirts. She watched on as the boys played frisbee and chatted, stopping only to take swigs out of the water bottle she was sure was full of straight vodka. Her book was tucked underneath her knee as she watched contently. Jake broke away from the game for a minute and made his way over to her, dropping to his knees and pressed a soft kiss to her lips before standing and returning back to his game.

Jake sighed as memories flooded his vision and the first one faded out, making room for the second one to unfold.

The night he told her he loved her for the first time. Wrapped up around her as they watched some silly rom-com she has decided she just had to see. His face was buried in the crook of her neck, placing soft pecked kisses against the side of her neck and earning himself soft giggles that were like music to his ears. His hands roamed up and down her arms, warming her cooled flesh as he swallowed hard and bit the bullet softly whispering ‘I love you’ into her ear.

More tears rolled down his cheeks at the memory of her smile and the way she couldn’t have moved faster to roll over and press a soft kiss to his waiting lips. But his mind couldn’t put aside the night he screwed up and ruined everything.

Out at the bar with his brothers and Serenia, he was enjoying himself fully when a girl caught his attention. She had been trying to shoot her shot all night and he had been ignoring her until… he wasn’t. She led him back to the janitorial closet and tucked him away inside, having the time of her life with him and banking on the fact that he was three sheets to the wind. That was until Serenia found them and shook him from his trance.

“Fucking idiot.” He mumbled and reached for his water bottle, uncapping it and downing half of it in one go. His mind still wandered, wondering what she was doing right now and if she was even worried about him at all.

“I asked you not to go out, Jake, why can’t you respect my wishes?”

Serenia’s voice from earlier in the evening danced around in his mind. She had asked him to stay home, have a drink with her and maybe have a little fun. But he had been insistent it would only be one drink with Sam. Little did Serenia know he never met up with Sam and had never planned to. He knew no one liked to encourage his public drinking habits anymore and he couldn’t blame them.

A soft knock sounded against the door to the interrogation room and Officer Wunschel opened it just enough to slip into the room. He took in Jakes appearance and shot the boy a sympathetic smile.

“Mr. Kiszka, your wife is here for you.” Jakes eyes widened and he turned his attention to the clock on the wall; she had only let him sit in the room for an hour. Placing the cap back on his water bottle he pushed himself to stand and followed the Officer out of the room.

Serenia stood at the front desk clad in her pajamas and had her arms crossed firmly over her chest; a clear indication that she was not happy with him. A relieved sigh slipped past Jakes lips as he was released into her care and he followed her quietly out to her car.

Jake watched as she ripped open the drivers side door and slid into the car, jamming the keys into the ignition as she waited for him to get in the car. He kept silent, his lips fully zipped as he secured his seatbelt across his chest and waist and let his head lean back against the seat.

“You see what happens when you don’t listen to me?” Her voice was monotone, not wanting him to feel like he was being accused of anything. Jakes eyes remained shut, lost in his head as he tried to find the words to convey what he wanted to say.

“You go out and you get shit faced, go fifty in a twenty probably singing along to some stupid song on the radio. You get your car towed and damn near thrown in the fucking slammer had I not come to save your sorry ass.” Her anger began to seep into her tone and she tightened her grip on the steering wheel to keep herself in check.

“I’m sorry.” Was all he could mutter, wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and tell her that he wanted to better himself. That he wanted to be better for her. She shook her head slightly.

“Sorry isn’t always going to cut it, Jake. You can’t get this close to being put into fucking jail over your own actions and expect me to be okay with it and just accept your apology. Something has got to change… this cannot be your normal anymore. Are you really okay with losing everything you’ve ever worked for just because you like to get drunk?” She kept her tone soft, not wanting to upset him any further.

Jake kept his eyes shut and his head pressed back against the seat, taking in everything she was saying. He knew she was right, knew that he needed to make some kind of a change if he wanted to save the life he had created with her. He pulled a deep breath in through his nose and let it out of his mouth on a gentle stream.

“I… I know I need to fix a lot of things. I know I keep fucking up and I know I have to work on that. But I… I’m sorry that I keep hurting you and I… understand if you want to drop me at my moms and call it. Josh can get my things tomorrow if he has to.”

Serenia’s eyes grew wide and she slammed on the breaks, glancing quickly in her rear view mirror before pulling off to the side of the road. She threw the car into park and unbuckled her seat belt before turning to face him. She reached out and gently cupped his cheek, wiping away the stream of tears.

“You take that back. I’m not dropping you at your moms and washing my hands of you. Jacob Thomas who do you take me for? Yes you’ve hurt me, you’ve hurt me so fucking much… but there’s more to you than the pain you’ve caused. You have a mental health issue that we can’t figure out how to keep it check. Baby there is more to you than the mistakes you’re making and I’ll be fucking damned if I throw you away before I make my best effort in trying to help you.”

Jake couldn’t hold back the sob that clawed its way out of his throat as he turned and wrapped his arms around Serenia. She let her eyes flutter shut and reached out to place a reassuring hand against his thigh.

“The space constraints do not make for a good reassurance.” She giggled softly as he pulled back and cupped her cheeks in his palms.

“I’m sorry for hurting you again… I just… I need help.” Serenia’s eyes filled with tears at Jake’s confession, something she had hoped he would ask for. She nodded her head and leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his.

“You do need help. We can call Dr. Sun in the morning and see if she’ll see us. Maybe she can help point us in the right direction of councilors and specialists. I know you don’t want medicine but… you might need it to keep you right.” A sigh slipped past Jakes lips and Serenia winced at the stench of his breath, shaking her head slightly.

“I wanna be better… I wanna go to bed.” Jake mumbled, fighting back another wave of tears that threatened to spill over his lids. She leaned forward slightly and pressed a feather light kiss to his lips. Pulling back she readjusted his seatbelt and fixed how she was sitting in her seat.

“Let’s get home, we can talk more when we get there.” She mumbled, reaching over her left shoulder for her seatbelt.

Jake sighed and nodded his head, letting it lean back against the seat once more. He knew this wasn’t a permanent fix and that he had much more work to do. But knowing that Serenia was still trying to help him was keeping him afloat. He reached out and placed a hand gently against her knee, keeping himself grounded as she slowly made her way through the city streets.

[thebelugawhalefriend]

Better Days - Shane x Reader

CW: SFW, GN reader, Comfort, Slight Angst(?)

Note: It's about time I dip my toes into Stardew Valley! I love this game the absolute most ^^ My personal wifey is Emily but Shane was my first ever husband. This is kind of a dating alternative to what we get in game.

The bar is just about your favorite place to go. Not for the booze or the well cooked food, but for the nights that the town gathered for a good time. It's nearing the end of your first year here and already you're the social butterfly farmer of the town. You've even got a secret handshake with Sebastian, Abigail, and Sam! Alex is your tussling buddy on days that you've gotten most things done, and Emily? Well, she's just about your best friend here. That... Wasn't your choice. The others were pretty fine with you too, all except for Shane.

"Ah, don't mind him. He's always a grump!" Sam nudges you gently, trying to get your eyes off of the man drinking alone. "Everyone says that around here... Has anyone even invited him to a game of pool? Or even cards?" You look between the young adults that all shared worried and cringed gazes. "(Y/N)..." Abigail starts, but Sebastian continues for her. "Shane is about the most depressing man in Pelican Town. Every time anyone tries to talk to him, he'll shove them right off and keep going about his life. If you want to invite him for something, go right ahead. We'll be here for when he rejects your friendship."

Despite his words and teasing smirk, you puff your chest right out and share a hopeful smile of your own. "You know what? I'll talk to him! And he'll be so blown away by my charm, he'll BEG to hang out with me more!" With that, you turn your back to the group. Sam gives Sebastian a glare, "That's mean of you Sebastian. You know he's going to break their heart..." Sebastian shrugs, "Hey, if they want to find out, they're free to."

Shane's behavior wasn't unknown to you. You'd stop him sometimes on his walk to work and say hi, just for him to simmer in anger that you'd pause his walk. Though, every passing day, his anger towards your hellos lessened. Didn't completely stop the dissatisfaction but at least he isn't fuming every day.

"Shane! Buddy! What are you doing alone on a Friday night?" You beam your brightest smile, but the man's side eye quickly dashes your mood. "Drinking. Like I always do. Now what do you want?" He huffs softly, you adjusting the collar of your shirt. "I was wondering if you'd join me and my friends for-" "No."

"But... You didn't..." "I said no. I don't do 'friends' or hangouts. You think your friends would really like some drunk bastard joining them just to ruin the mood?" Your once bright smile quickly fades into an unsure expression. Honestly, you look like a kicked puppy. "Get back to your group and don't talk to me while I'm here. I'm no excited dog like you, farmer."

When you make your little defeated saunter to your friends, you mostly expect them to laugh at your attempt to reach out to Shane. But they had been listening in, with Sam pulling you into a comforting hug. "Like I said, don't mind that guy. You're a wonderful person! Come on, how about a game?" Abigail perks up, "We could try Blackjack!" Sebastian quickly cuts in, "Are you kidding? (Y/N) ALWAYS wins! They're the GOD of gambling, Abby."

The rest of your time spent at the saloon was trying to get your mind off that negative interaction. And yet, you couldn't stop thinking about him. You and your friends were first to leave, but you did stick around for a nightly walk. Perusing the rivers around with an awestruck beauty. It isn't long until you find a little isolated dock, where you sit and look down into the waters. Footsteps alert you to someone nearby, with a hefty sigh pairing with the sound of someone sitting next to you.

"Did your friends leave for the night?" Shane's voice sounds a lot more careful in tone. "Yeah, they all have their own things to do the rest of the night. The farm doesn't have much for me to do now that winter is approaching, so I'm watching the fish." To your response, Shane nods his head thoughtfully and takes a sip of his bottle. "Hm. Your pet doesn't even need you tonight?"

You chuckle a little, "They're probably fast asleep in my bed. Dirtying up the sheets!" Shane doesn't really take to laughing but does smile faintly. "Beats sleeping alone." While he drinks some more out of his bottle, you look on with a little worry. "Hm? Did you want a sip?" "Oh no, I've had more than enough to drink tonight. It's just... What you said."

"...Sleeping alone?"

"Yeah. You don't sound happy about that..."

"I'm... Okay with it." He tries to shrug off your worry, but your gentle hand comes to hold onto his shoulder. "Okay doesn't mean happy."

His eyes roll back into his head, but he doesn't even make a move to remove your hand from his shoulder. "I know it doesn't. But why should I make myself happy? I live, I work, and I get by. What more is there to life? Okay is better than in trouble."

You scoot in closer and try to look into his wavering eyes, "What about the fresh flowers of spring? The silver scales of fish in the water? Something's got to make you happy."

"What about them, huh? The flowers would be okay if I wasn't here. The fish would probably rejoice. The sun will still rise and- god, no one in this town would care!" His eyes prickle with tears, one hand gripping his hair, "The only possible people who would probably bat an eye are Marnie and Jas- But what, it would take a month to forget me? Two? I would have added nothing to this-"

The warmth from your tight embrace stops his rambling. The only other feeling he can really note is the dampening of his shirt as you bury your face in it. "Uhm... (Y/N)...?" Shane doesn't try to pull you off, instead wrapping a hesitant arm around you. "Shane..."

You pull yourself back, trying to wipe the tears from your eyes. "You are loved so much more than just by Marnie and Jas... There's so much that would change if the only time we spend with you is at your funeral! The only time I spend with you! Even if it's just stopping by to say hello, I still appreciate every positive feeling I get with you..." He shakes his head slightly yet doesn't let go. "(Y/N), I know what you're going to say, but you're not going to convince me of anything. I know this place wouldn't care if I lived or-"

A hand to his mouth quickly shuts him down, "Stop that! Please...! I have lost too many friends already because they thought no one loved them..." Those pools of tears in your eyes strike him right in the heart. "I don't care about any flaws you see in yourself. The drinking, the attitude- you're not unlikeable just because of that. I love being around you..."

A careful rough hand slips your hand from his mouth. "How can you say that when I've been nothing but mean to you?"

"Because I care for you, whether you like to think that or not! I want to make your days better... I want you to finally put that fear of people aside and join my friends in games- even if it's just a try. I want to see you stop and smell the flowers on your way to work and- and-" His hands reach your wrists, pulling them down to ground you from your rant.

"That's... A lot of feelings, farmer. I don't exactly think hanging out with your pals or some games will help-" His now soft gaze looks into your worried one, "But, I... I think I could try for you. At least, try to have some better days. I..." He tries to choke down his sentimental rant, but the words keep coming. "I'd hate to make you cry. Out of everyone in this town... You're about the only one I hate seeing so miserable."

With a little laugh, you sniffle and keep wiping the moist tears from your face. "What about the others?" "I'd like to keep Marnie and Jas happy at least. Though, Lewis could probably use a few tears..." You playfully shove Shane for his comment while bursting with laughter. "That's so mean! Lewis is okay!" "That's what you think, farmer. I don't know what ANYONE sees in him..."

The starry night was spent with more teasing and a much lighter conversation. Only ending when your tired yawning led him to walk you all the way back to the farm. Now that Shane has his own friend... He could see his future holds better days.

[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

What if Fedra and Rhys lost the baby and Nyx did not exist? I want the angstttt

(Also I know this is a sensitive topic, you don’t have to even consider it if it makes you uncomfortable)

Hey there! Thanks for being my first fic request - even if it is a dark one.

To be honest, I've never written angst before so this is new for me and may be very.... not great... but I tried my best at dipping my toes in. I did keep it on the shorter side just because I am learning how to best write angst/despair so feel free to give notes.

That being said, here is my interpretation of if Feyre and Rhys lost their baby and little Nyx hadn't become part of their lives.

Please keep in mind that everyone processes grief differently and this topic is incredibly heavy. Take what you can while taking care of yourself. Be kind and gentle with your mind and body.

Content Warning: Miscarriage/loss of a child

For more fanfics and writings check out my fic blog @a-court-of-fics-and-errors

Feyre sat in the armchair of the sitting room, her chin resting on her knees, curled to her chest. She leaned her head against the back of the chair, her gaze fixed on two raindrops racing down the window. The world outside was still cold as March melted into April, the days blurring together in a relentless, gray march forward. She felt as if time had ceased to hold any meaning.

She watched the smaller raindrop hit a long slide, racing quickly downward. The slightly larger raindrop followed, colliding with the smaller one, absorbing it, and continuing its path until it pooled on the windowsill.

The sitting room was dark, shadows creeping in from every corner, with only the cold, gray light from outside seeping in. Feyre closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in and out, allowing the world to close in around her.

Rhys stood in the entryway to the room, his forearm propped against the doorway as he looked at his mate. She was without color, the soft pinks of her cheeks reduced to a muted gray, her eyes sunken and faded, and her hair lay loosely around her shoulders. Nuala and Cerridwen had bathed her a day or so ago after she’d been sitting in the chair, unmoving. They told him she hadn’t spoken during her bath, only stared ahead, lost in her own mind. He had no doubt she knew he was standing there, but she lacked the strength to turn and look at him.

Rhysand considered breaking the silence, walking in, sitting down, and holding her. But instead, he turned and walked back down the hallway. That's how it seemed they were now, ghosts of each other, passing in the halls and never quite touching.

Rhys turned into his office, papers strewn about everywhere, untidied and listless. He sighed to himself and began gathering papers from the floor, snatching and balling them up, throwing them into the basket. After the first few, the balling and throwing became more intense. He started ripping pages, then stacks of pages, until he was breathing heavily, throwing them across the room, tearing books off shelves in rage, and ripping their spines. He continued until almost every book had been pulled from the shelves, standing in the middle of the room, panting, holding back a sob as he pressed his mouth and chin into his palm.

Azriel cleared his throat, and Rhys whipped around, suddenly aware of his outburst.

Rhys looked around the room and then back to Azriel, who looked nowhere but at him. “Now not a good time?” Azriel finally asked.

Rhys coughed, running his hand through his hair. “No, no, it’s-” he started, “it’s fine.” A pause. “Now is fine.”

Azriel gazed around the room. “You’re sure?”

Rhys moved towards him. “Yes, yes, please, come in.”

Rhys tossed a ripped book off the sitting chair, motioning for Azriel to sit down, which he did. Rhys took his usual spot in the chair across from him, sitting down and leaning forward, his forearms on his knees. Azriel just stared at him. Rhys pulled his lips into his teeth, rubbing his hands together, fidgeting as he waited for his brother to break the silence.

“How are you doing?” Azriel finally asked.

Rhys sniffled slightly before leaning back, running his hands up and down the lengths of his thighs. “I’m fine.”

Azriel looked at him as Rhys continued to fidget. “Are you?”

Rhys sniffled again, his left leg bouncing rapidly as he pressed his hands into his thighs, looking up towards the window where the rain ran down in droves, considering his answer.

Without words, Rhys pulled his lips into his teeth again, looking towards the floor and shaking his head no. Azriel looked at him knowingly. “I know.”

Rhys continued to shake his leg, feeling his eyes burn as tears filled them. He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand as he tilted his head to the sky, willing the tears back in and clearing his throat to avoid the sob. “Rhys-” Azriel started, “I can’t imagine what you’re going through.” Azriel leaned forward, bracing himself on his thighs.

Rhysand didn’t respond, still looking towards the sky, pressing his eyes shut as he shook his head back and forth and wiped his eyes.

Azriel continued, “None of us can,” a silent pause, “Losing a child, I-” he paused again, searching Rhys’s face for a response as he continued to bounce his leg and squeeze his eyes shut, “losing a child has to be the biggest heartbreak anyone can feel.”

Rhys, unable to speak, finally opened his eyes to Azriel, who looked at him with such sadness that it caught him off guard. Rhysand sniffled again, trying to find anything to say back. He finally got out, “I just don’t know what to do.”

Another pause, as the world shifted around them and time seemed to stop. “I don’t-” Rhys continued, “I can’t fix this.” He shook his head, casting his eyes to the floor. “I can’t fix this for anyone. I can’t fix it for her. I can’t-” He started to spiral, a sob stopping him as he let his head fall into his hands.

Azriel remained seated across from him, watching the High Lord sob and sob until his cries were merely silent. How could he respond to this? After months of waiting, expecting, and anticipating, of daydreaming and wishing, there had been no babe. Instead, there was a lifeless body, pulled from Feyre too early, and Nesta arriving just slightly too late, only being able to bring back one. No one blamed Nesta. If Feyre had died, Rhysand would have died too. But it seemed as though it was harder to live now than to die then, and Nesta felt responsibility for that, regardless of how much the rest of them had reassured her she had made the right decision.

“There’s nothing to fix,” Azriel finally said.

Rhysand shouted, “There’s everything to fix!” He stared up at his brother, his eyes bloodshot, hands out, almost pleading. “There’s- there’s so many moments I should have done something, said something. I just- it’s my fault it’s like this. I should have said something.”

Azriel never broke eye contact with Rhys as he wailed out the words of blame. “Rhys, you can’t do this to yourself.”

“What else can I do, Azriel? Tell me. What else can I do for her?” Rhysand pointed towards the sitting room where Feyre still sat, hearing the destruction in the office but not having the energy to move and check.

Azriel looked towards the room. “She is grieving. She needs time,” he reassured him.

“She can never forgive me. She will never forgive me,” Rhysand stammered out, dropping his head to his hands once more. “I failed her. I failed both of them.”

Azriel looked at his brother, a father whose child was stolen from him, and would never get to see the world. Rhysand, who had spent every waking moment for the last nine months thinking about this unborn babe, his hands constantly searching for his mate's pregnant stomach, smiling at kicks and praying to whoever was listening at night that both the babe and Feyre be safe. But it seemed the gods had left them.

Rhysand’s frantic eyes looked to his brother for any form of reassurance and Azriel stared back, unsure of what to say.

Suddenly Rhys stood, pushing his palms into his eyes as he sniffled through another sob, releasing a deep exhale. “Azriel,” He finally said, looking down towards him, “How do I move forward? How do I-” he paused, “How do I live like this when it feels like my body is burning alive, and like-” a sob, “like my heart was ripped out of my chest.” He looked towards the sitting room, “I can feel her dying in there, every day. I feel her, her whole body is screaming and tearing itself apart, her mind, it’s-” he brought his hands up, shaking them around his head, “it’s so loud and it’s so hateful, and she blames herself. She’s constantly screaming and she’s shattering and I can’t do anything about it.” He stared at his brother, who remained in the chair. “She hasn’t spoken, she hasn’t said anything since that day and yet inside she’s just screaming.” Rhys pulled back another sob.

“Have you talked to her?” Azriel finally asked.

Rhys looked at him, intensely, “What would I say?” he shook his hands and head in almost disbelief, “What would I say to her?”

Azriel waited, looking around the room before finding his brother's face again, “Anything.”

Rhys shook his head, stifling out another sob and walking to the window to stare out at the rain. From behind him Azriel said, “The world is very bleak for her. And she’s lost, Rhys. And you might not be able to tell her the way back, but you can at least find her in the woods.”

A few tears escaped Rhys’s eyes, sliding down his cheeks. He didn’t wipe them away. Azriel stood, walking towards Rhysand who didn’t turn until Azriel was next to him. Without saying a word, Azriel pulled Rhys into a tight embrace, rubbing his hand up and down his back as his brother sank into him,

letting heavy sobs escape his lips as he choked out wail after wail. Azriel held him, feeling his body rise and fall as he heaved out the incredible sadness kept in the deepest recesses of his body. Azriel held him until Rhys had found exhaustion and had lost all of the tears he could muster. Azriel held him.

Rhys pressed his forehead into Azriel’s shoulder as Azriel pressed a kiss into the side of his head. “I know,” he whispered. “I know.”

What felt like hours passed in a few minutes before Rhys finally pulled out of the embrace. Azriel took his brother's face in his hands, looking him deeply in his eyes before simply saying, “You have to find her.” Rhys nodded, his eyes shutting as Azriel dropped his hands to his sides, turning and silently leaving.

When Rhys opened them, he was alone in the room, surrounded by the destruction. He wiped his face clean, stifling another few sobs before exiting the office and making his way down towards the sitting room where Feyre sat in the same position he had left her. Mustering up courage, he stepped through the entryway, walking up to her and dropping to his knees in front of her. He reached out to touch her, to take her hand, and when he did she did not grip back.

He ran a gentle thumb down the length of her now bony hand. “I don’t know what to say. And I don’t know what to do.” Rhys finally started after silently searching for the words. Feyre didn’t turn to him, her eyes slowly blinking shut and back open as she continued to watch the rain outside. “I have so many things I wish I could do- I have-” he paused, trying to pull back the tears again, “I have so many things I want to do for you. To help you.” He shook his head, squeezing her hand, “But I can’t. I can’t fix this my darling.” He looked at her, as tears filled her eyes, but she still did not face him. “If I could take away this pain for you I would. If I could do anything, if I could meet with the Mother herself I would fall to my knees and beg her to bring him back to us. I would trade my soul to her just to make this different than it is now.” A single tear fell down Feyre’s cheek as he continued, “I would burn the world for you, my darling, I would-” He paused. “I can feel how you’re breaking, and I know that it hurts. I know that this is unbearable, and I don’t know what to do- I just- I don’t know what to do.” He shook his head, pressing his lips to her hand while he squeezed his eyes shut, tears flowing down them. “I should have done so many things, I should have said something, I should have-” He stopped, “I can’t take it back. I can’t fix it. But my darling, if I could, I would do anything just to bring him back to us. Just to have him here, even for a second.” He let out a sob, which was followed by another and another until he completely let go, “I’m so sorry,” he let out between cries, “I want him back.” Rhys let himself fall back as he pulled his legs to his chest, sobbing into his own hands. Feyre’s hand fell to the chair as tears fell in heavy succession from her own eyes.

“I wish he was here too.” Feyre finally said, her voice cracked and broken. “I want my little baby boy.” And with that she had finally broken. Her body heaved in sobs as she brought her hands to her face. Rhys, eyes wide at her response, finally realized what had happened and rushed to her side, pulling her close as he knelt by her. Her sobs mixing with his as he held her. She continued to repeat, “I want my baby back.”

Rhys pressed his face to her hair as she curled into his chest. “I know, Feyre Darling,” he cried into her quietly, “I want him back too.”

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Sunflower, Book 1, Chapter 25

Tom Hiddleston x OFC Series rated: M Chapter warnings: Flashback smut AN: Just a splash of my daddy issues, so sorry about that. I swear, I'm trying to keep it under control! Enjoy the last fluffy chapter before the angst really starts to amp up. Sorry not sorry. Masterlist AO3 KoFi

~~~~~<3

Tears gathered in Mia’s eyes as she looked at the little bit of magic Tom had worked. Mia had always felt guilty that she couldn’t give the big parties Sally would see on the TV and often she was too tired or too broke to even do a lot. Again and again, she told Tom to go small. Simple. Easy. 

She took comfort in the fact that the first few birthdays, kids don’t remember beyond the stories they’re told and the pictures they see. She wasn’t sure kids remembered their 5th birthday parties either but Tom had put in the effort to make it special, even while toeing the line of her request. 

Purple and pink balloons reflected the sparkling water. There were bottles of sparking juice and a handful of plastic champagne glasses, making the small party child fancy. Tom had pizzas, one peperoni and one cheese on each side of the bottom of a foam cooler upside down over what she assumed was the birthday cake. 

Tom was sitting on the edge of the pool pumping up the last of the floaties and for a moment, time froze and Mia’s heart skipped a beat. The strong sun shone on his bare back and arms, casting shadows in the dips of his defined muscles. His hair was alight with it, golden reds highlighting every wild curl in his short hair, stealing her breath away more than the definition in his back as he moved about comfortably. 

This was the man she married in a act of drunken stupidity. No, perhaps not stupidity after all, if she closed her eyes and indulged her heart. What if, just maybe, marrying this man three weeks ago was one of her life’s greatest decisions?

This was a man she could fall in love with. God, did he make it hard not to just fling herself headfirst in, reckless and trusting. It was hard to remind herself the importance of taking things slow when she saw him like that, sitting at the edge of the pool and blowing up kid’s pool toys as if it was the most important task of his life. As if it was a part of his life. As if he belonged. 

He was the father Sally deserved. God, if she could just give Sally this man as a father. If she could somehow change the fabric of reality and make this the man that fathered Sally,Mia would. That wasn’t possible but she could give him to her now, if she just was willing to take a risk, willing to trust.

Tom was a person though. There was no way she could force him to stay, no way she would want to if he wanted to leave. But fuck, if this could be their lives, she wanted him to want to stay. What if she tried and he left? What if Sally got to have this, really have it, and then lost it? What if it was her fault? What if she wasn’t a good enough woman to keep a man like Tom?

“Tommy!” Sally broke the moment, saving Mia from a lifetime spent in a single heartbeat and whirlwind of ‘what if’s. “It’s so pretty!”

Mia looked away from the way Tom smiled at Sally, directing her attention to her phone as it pinged in her hand, thankful for the distraction. Again, she texted Ray to see if he was coming on her way down.

“Fucking calm down” the message read, sent from her daughter’s father. He was a man she had once loved, who she had thought loved her at one point. “I’m on my fucking way.”

He was in a bad mood but that wasn’t unusual for him. He was always in a bad mood during the last few years or so. Mia was just thankful he had answered, if she was honest. It was rare that she could give Sally the gift of time with her father. This time, at least for her birthday, it looked like it was going to happen. 

“Sally will be so excited” Mia sent back. 

He didn’t respond. 

“Is Daddy coming?” Sally ran over as Tom reminded her that walking feet were important to use around the pool. Tom looked over to Mia with worry clearly etched on his face. 

“He said he’s on his way.” Mia said and in her gut, it felt like the wrong thing to say.

“Anything I should be aware of?” Tom asked, wrapping an arm around her waist and hugging her to him, a calculated risk he decided was worth it after the time spent at the ranch. 

“What do you mean?” His hand was cold from the pool water, causing goosebumps to cover her skin. It felt good seeping into her skin through the robe, cooling the skin heated by the desert sun. 

“Do I need to be worried about him trying to knock my head off or trying to drown me in the pool?”

Mia gave it a big of thought, “Don’t know, to be honest. We’ve never been in a situation even close to this before.”

“Lovely.” Tom’s voice came flat, though is fingers twitched against her waist. 

“You’ll be fine,” Mia patted Tom’s chest, trying to ignore the feeling of the sun warmed skin and firm muscle under hand while she laughed. “I’m sure you can out run him.”

“In this heat?” Tom teased as he gave her one last squeeze before returning to the pool.

It felt good to laugh together. To celebrate together. To be together.

Mia hesitated near the pool, watching as Sally and Tom splashed eachother. They were quickly becoming the picture of a family and it was magical to watch it happen. Sally deserved this. 

For Sally, Mia decided, she needed to invest in this marriage as much as Tom was. 

“Are you going to get in?” Tom asked after resurfacing from a dramatic splash induced water death. 

“Yeah, I just-”

“Mom’s shy.” Sally giggled. “I don’t know why, she’s so pretty.”

“She is pretty,” Tom agreed, nodding wisely to the small girl floating on the inflated unicorn next to him before making his way toward the steps of the pool. 

Rising out of the water one step at a time, water ran off of his chest and abdomen. Streams of water gathered to run down the valleys between muscles as her eyes followed. His hair was dark with water, plastered to his head. As he rose out of the water, his trunks clung to his hips and-

Yeah, she needed to pay attention to where she was and that the water was nice and cold. Stop looking at the man like he was a goddamn piece of meat. She was not some nineteen year old girl who’s not been around the block a few times. 

Keep your eyes on socially acceptable places. This was real life, not some romance movie. Keep it together. 

Tom was close to her now. She could see the scattered hairs on his chest. Was he feeling the same things she was in that moment? Was he thinking the same sort of thoughts looking down at her? Her heart was beating out of her chest. Was his?

Reaching out, Tom placed his hands on either side of her neck. Long fingers curled around the back of her neck and the pads of his thumbs rubbed against her jaw, spreading blessed coolness into overheated skin. His pinkies slipped under the silk fabric of her robe. 

Was he going to kiss her? Would he do it right there, in front of Sally and anyone who happened to pass by?

Slowly, Tom’s hands ran down her neck and over her shoulders. She was captivated by his eyes. As the neck of her robe expanded, pulling open she absently untied the belt. the silk fell away from her in a whoosh as Tom’s hands reached the curve of her shoulders. She caught the robe in her hands as it fell and just stood there, lost in the spell of his eyes. 

“There,” His voice was thick, like something had caught in his throat. “Now you can get in the pool.”

When Mia was slow to get moving, Tom seemed to return to life. He grabbed the robe from her hands as she slowly gathered it up. Balling it up, he tossed it onto a poolside chair. 

Without much warning or even giving himself a chance to over think things, he scooped her up in his arms. A squeak of shock captured Sally’s attention and then the little girl was cheering them on. 

Mia reflexively threw her arms around Tom as he descended the steps slowly. Realizing how much of her skin was directly touching his skin, she let go and tried to put distance between them. 

This did nothing but shift her weight, almost toppling the both of them into the water. Feeling herself becoming unsteady, she grabbed onto him again. He carried her down the steps as if she weighed nothing in his arms. 

It shouldn’t have surprised her, she saw his build. 

Tom enjoyed the feeling of having her in his arms. Her skin was hot against his water cooled skin. The contrast felt dizzying.

“You’re too hot.” Tom said, not realizing until after the words left his lips the double meaning. 

Instantly his face began to feel hot and he had very few options. Somehow, he thought falling forward with her in his arms into the pool where the shallows dropped off into the deeper water was the best response to the situation. 

Mia surfaced sputtering water. Her brown hair was soaked, hanging awkwardly in the hair clip that had been keeping it off her shoulders. Tom surfaced a moment later gasping for breath. He didn’t have a chance to wait for a potential wrath or catch his breath before Mia was splashing him. 

“What if I couldn’t swim!” She was laughing even as she voiced her outrage.

“I would have saved you.” His words came in short bursts between mouthfuls of water she flung at him. 

Sally was an equal opportunity attacker, armed with a squirt gun and a unicorn steed to escape on. She had no allies, she had no partners, and she took no prisoners in her aquatic attacks. 

Such a brutal attack left no other option but for the adults to join forces and take down the small tyrannical dictator of the pool, filling the air with splashes, water and the musical sound of a family at play.

They played for a rather long time before dragging themselves out of the water for pizza and drinks. Some other kids had joined them at complex pool, giving Sally other victims for round two of the master of the sea. 

Mia stood, robe hanging from her elbows mostly forgotten as she checked her phone for what felt like the hundredth time. Sally was distracted, laughing and sharing pizza with anyone who joined their mini party.

“Any word?” Tom asked, resting his hand on her back as he came up beside her. 

“No.” Resisting the urge to throw her phone, Mia simply locked it and placed it face down again. “He said he was on his way an hour and a half ago.”

 ~~~~~<3

Sally was tired when they finally made their way inside, carried by her mother. Tom made easy work of the few trips needed to bring what remained of the cake and presents inside. Mia was thankful for the additional hands, Sally alone was getting far too big to be carried home. 

For today though, she would carry her little girl as far as she wanted. Five years old now, Mia could hardly believe it. This little girl had changed her life and been with her through some of her most challenging times. She was Mia’s world. 

For Sally, Mia would burn the world down if needed. For Sally, Mia would give the world on a plater if she only asked. 

It killed her that there were things she couldn’t give her daughter though, things she deserved more than anything.

Ray never did show up. Mia wanted to believe something happened to him. Perhaps a car accident on the way? Maybe he was in the hospital, phone lost or destroyed? That would be better than knowing that he just decided to not show up to his daughter’s birthday party. Again. 

~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3

They moved together, chasing the release they both so desperately needed. The sound of skin slapping together filled the room. The bed springs sang a song of primal lust, accompanied by the music of their gasping moans.

Tom’s fingers bunched into a fist, catching her hand in the process. He held onto her as his wife clenched around him, driving him on, pulling him deeper. 

Close. He was so close now. He could only hope that she was there with him as she gasped in pleasure, arching against him. Her walls fluttered around him. He moaned deeply as begging pleas for more fell from her lips.

She was his. His wife. His new life. His new everything. 

She was his. 

Finally, he had someone. Finally, he was enough for someone. 

Finally. 

~~~~~<3

Tag List: @winterisakiller @alexakeyloveloki @jennyggggrrr @dangertoozmanykids101 @tilltheendwilliwrite @tinchentitri @wizardcherryblossom @kats72 @buttercupcookies-blog @violethaze @soulpiercing @evedia @princess-ofthe-pages

[ageless-aislynn]

Angst! 16

Fluff! 13

Misc.! 16

And… for characters I’m going to throw out Kai, Alenko, and Soap. Do whatever pairings or friendships you’d like. Also I’m not gonna die if you choose not to use those characters. Or prompts. I dunno, I just wanna read your stuff man.

*glee* Thank you SO much for sending some prompts my way! These are all pretty short but mark my first time writing 2 of the 3 characters, so I'm just carefully dipping a toe in the COD and ME pools, lol!

Thanks so much again! 😎👍

Angst 16. “Are you hurt?” “No.” “Then why are there bruises all over your face?”

Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish & Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley, Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Then why are there bruises all over your face?"

"You ought to see the other guy, Lt," Soap said with an unrepentant grin, unmarred by the fact his left eye was nearly swollen shut and he had a prominent cut on his lower lip.

Ghost sighed slightly behind his skull balaclava. "Sure I'll recognize him by all the bruises on his knuckles," he said dryly.

Fluff 13. Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”

Kaidan Alenko/Commander Shepard, Mass Effect (reader's choice as to whether it's male or female Shep 😉)

"Are you flirting with me?"

"You finally noticed?"

Kaidan squinted, several Commander Shepards swimming in front of him in the dim bar lighting, all wearing fondly amused expressions.

"You are flirting with me!" he stated as if having uncovered a core secret of the universe.

Shepard's smile broadened. "Think it's time to take you home and tuck you into bed."

"I'm going home with Cmdr. Shepard," he proclaimed loudly to the crowd around them. Several people raised a glass in good-natured salutes.

"Yeah, they know." Shepard got an arm around him, sliding him off the bar stool and onto his feet. "Most of them were at our wedding, after all."

Misc 16. “YOU SAID TO BE HONEST STOP HITTING ME!”

Kai-125 & Vannak-134, Halo the series

"YOU SAID TO BE HONEST, STOP HITTING ME!"

John heard Kai's shout from the hallway outside of the Spartan quarters and shoved the door open to see—

He blinked. For a solid moment, he wasn't quite sure what he was seeing, actually. Kai vaulted over her own bed, being pursued hotly by Vannak.

"That wasn't honest," he said grimly. "You're just being mean."

"Look, it's not my fault that that penguin documentary was kinda lame and—"

"IT WAS NOT!" Vannak bellowed back and took a swing at her that would've definitely put a marine in the infirmary for a month, if not in the ground, permanently. For Kai, it would've at the very least mussed her hair. "Those penguins are adorable and—"

"Lame. Laaaaaame," she singsonged, ducking a flurry of punches, then doing a very impressive parkour run up the wall into a backflip that sent her soaring over the enraged Spartan's head.

"THEY'RE NOT LAME, YOU TAKE THAT BACK!"

John looked over at Riz, who was calmly sitting at a nearby table, reading something on her padd. She met his gaze, shrugged, and then went back to reading.

They crisscrossed the room rapidly, with Vannak coming close to getting his hands on her but, ultimately, Kai would manage to slip away at the last second. The entire time, she continued to issue penguin insults that, for some reason, the other Spartan took extremely personally.

John opened his mouth, about to say… something. Then he gave a slight shake of his head.

"I have paperwork to do," he announced to no one. "Don't I, Cortana?"

"I can find you some, Chief."

"That would be great," he said and just turned around and walked away.

Sentence Starters

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Lovers & Friends (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Keigo Takami x Black!Fem!Reader (Friends to Lovers)

Synopsis: In which you and Keigo have begun to realize the strange new feelings you both have for each other after one drunken night at a close friend’s wedding that ends with you in his bed, but because of your longtime friendship and committed relationships with other people, you’re more than happy to forget that night even happened and keep your mutual feelings in the dark…for now, at least. 

Story Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GET AWAY); Cheating/Infidelity; Mating; Light Degradation; Spanking; Exhibitionism; Multiple Positions; Creampie; Unprotected PIV Sex; Facials; Scent Play; Marking; Spitting; Deepthroating; Cunnilingus; Begging; Edgeplay; Power Play; Daddy Kink; Some Angst; Hurt/Comfort; Mild Violence

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic (except for Rei and Haruko). However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: SMUTTY SMUT BELOW. And I start my new big girl job on Monday. I'm shitting myself. More than anything, I'm scared I'm not gonna have much time to write my fic shit, BUT I'll try to make time for it cuz I love it & y'all so much!! AND GO TOUCH GRASS. -Jazz

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Bonus Chapter.

Read on AO3 here!

************

Chapter Seven: Taking A Dip.

The pool area is empty except for you and Keigo, leaving an infinity pool and its appetizing, blue water ready for the taking. 

The city of downtown Musutafu glitters like dozens of diamonds stretching into the distance as you look out from the top of the building. The night air is warm and the sky is clear. You can see every star and constellation from here.

Keigo stands beside you, his arms behind his head and a hooded look in his eyes where you can tell he’s drunk. But, of course, he is to have agreed to have come with you to do this. 

“Looks like we got the whole place to ourselves,” he states before turning to you expectantly. “So what’s up? You gonna strip or what?”

You look down at the water, hesitant now. “Uh…”

That’s all you can muster. Your brain is too foggy from the alcohol and dancing to say anything else. Plus, the confidence you felt oozing out of you before is gone now, replaced with a feeling of uncertainty. What were you thinking, coming up here? Are you that desperate to get over Rei? 

‘Or are you that determined to get Keigo alone?’ a sly voice in your head teases. 

You push the thought away along with the strange feeling that bloomed inside of you seeing him pummel that asshole in the club. So protective he is…so dominant. Nothing like you’ve ever seen out of Rei. 

“O-On second thought, I think I might just dip my feet in,” you softly stutter as you take a step away from the pool. Keigo scowls at you, confused. “What? You dragged me all the way up here just to chicken out?”

After a beat of silence and you not budging, he rolls his golden eyes. “Suit yourself, but I’m gettin’ in. After that chaotic scene, Daddy needs to relax.” 

He begins to strip without another word your way, acting as if you’re not even there and he’s instead standing in the privacy of his bedroom. He toes off his shoes and socks as he unbuttons his top, one button after the other. He then slowly peels it off, revealing his impressive upper torso and muscular back where his red wings sprout from his shoulder muscles.

You also see some healed scars etched into his tanned skin, including the burn scars he obtained from Dabi, all of them testaments of his strength and courage. He then reaches for his slacks and turns to you, a smirk playing on his lips. “Watch if you want to,” he chuckles cheekily. “You know I don’t mind.” 

“Ew,” you scoff, but flush despite yourself. Your eyes continue to slyly and shamelessly indulge in your friend’s gorgeous body when he pulls down his pants, revealing his muscular calves, bite-worthy thighs, and firm ass in his Armani briefs. 

'Label whore,’ you think, your eyes still planted on his backside. You can see why so many ladies flock to him like birds. He truly is a beautiful man. 

He slowly sits down on the edge of the pool before dipping his feet in. Then he slides down the rest of the way into the water until you just see his head. “Ah,” he sighs in pleasure. “Damn, that feels good on my wings.” 

He turns to you, the blue water illuminating his skin and handsome face. “You sure you don’t wanna get in, baby bird? The water feels amazing.” He places his feet on the wall and kicks himself out where he begins swimming backwards, smiling giddily as he does so. He looks so happy. Why can’t you feel that happy right now too? 

“Well…” Nerves you’ve never felt before flood inside of you at the thought of stripping down in front of your friend. Why do you feel so weird about this? Keigo is your friend! He saw you naked back in middle school which became the start of your friendship. Nothing has changed. 

‘Right,’ you think, trying to calm yourself. ‘Nothing has changed.’ 

Keigo is waiting for you, a warm smile playing on his lips. “Alright,” you sigh defeatedly. “But turn around and look the other way.”

Keigo looks confused but does as you say regardless. Once he is facing away from you, you strip yourself of your dress and heels with quivering fingers, doing your best to calm yourself by taking deep breaths. You chalk it up to the alcohol making you feel so off. 

Finally, you stand near the edge of the pool in just your bra and panties. You walk over to the steps and descend down into the water, hissing slightly as the cool water hits your skin. When you’re finally in the pool with Keigo, you realize just what he was talking about. The water is soothing on your tired muscles, easing you into relaxation.

“Oh,” you sigh, pleasantly surprised. “That does feel good.” 

“Right?” he chuckles, watching you. “They must’ve put some kind of massage oil in this water.”

You hum in agreement and hold your arms out in front of you as you bring your legs up and tip backward. You begin to float on your back in the water, now staring up at the starry sky above.

You hear the splashes of Keigo moving around in the water as he begins to float too, suddenly ending up beside you. His fingers brush against your shoulder as he does, sending sparks down your arm that you ignore. 

For a while, you two just float together, side by side, like two lily pads in a pond. “You remember when we used to do this?” you randomly ask as a childhood memory pops into your head. “All those boring ass summers at the city pool.” 

A light, reminiscent laugh leaves Keigo’s lips. “Do I?” he chuckles. “And Dabi would be so scared to get in ‘cause he was so sure he’d lose his quirk if he touched the water.” 

You laugh too, remembering those days in high school when you four used to jump the fence (except for you so Keigo would have to physically pick you up and fly you over the fence) to take a dip in the city pool. Echoes of your, Keigo, and Rumi’s laughter at Dabi’s fear of the water fill your head. When you’d laugh, Dabi would usually use his quirk to turn the water into ice, cackling when you three would scramble for safety out of the pool. 

Those days were so carefree and simple. You didn’t have to constantly worry about money, relationships, or survival. You didn't have to ponder over whether you would ever get married and have a family of your own. You didn’t ever have to wonder if you were truly happy. Suddenly, you don’t feel too content now. 

“Hawks?” you randomly ask, filling the silence with your voice. 

“Hm?” he hums in response. 

You stare up at the sky, questioning whether you should ask this forbidden question or not. But the alcohol gets to you. “How do you think Fatgum and Haruko did it?” you wonder aloud. “They’ve been together for six years and I’m sure they’ve had problems, but how do you think they managed to make it all the way to the altar? How did they know it was right for them?”

Keigo is silent for a moment, processing your loaded question. “I don’t know,” he finally answers. “I guess they just found that they fit. Sometimes you think you’ve met a person that fits into your life, like a puzzle piece. But then you find that they don’t just quite match up.” 

His fingers brush your arm, not but accident this time, and you shiver. “Other times, you’ll find people in your life that you know deep down that fit. That doesn’t mean you have to end up with them romantically though. Sometimes they’re just good friends or people you can trust.” 

His words bring tears to your eyes. He’s so right, and you feel so gutted over it. “I thought Rei was my piece,” you sigh wistfully. “He had a place in my puzzle that I thought was right. But we just weren’t right enough to fit in each other’s lives.”

The tears begin to well in your eye sockets, making the sky blur above you, and suddenly, you’re crying. It is soft and subtle, but enough to flip Keigo right into comfort mode. 

“Hey,” he softly says, moving to stand upright in the water. He helps you too, taking your arms and helping you place your legs back in the water. Once your lower torso is back in the water, he tilts your chin up to meet his eyes. You see nothing but concern and the utmost care in those golden orbs.

He opens his arms for you for an embrace you can’t resist in your hurt, drunk state. “Come here,” he coos. You fall into his body, wrapping your arms around him as he does to do. 

He holds you tight, making you feel every ripple of his muscles. Even in the water, he stands a head taller than you so he has the advantage to putting his chin on your head. You softly sob into the crook of his shoulder, letting all of the emotions you’re feeling tumble down.

“You don’t need someone to complete you, Y/N,” he whispers. "Especially someone like Rei. You deserve so much more as intelligent, kind, and amazing as you are.” 

He squeezes you to him, the pressure making you feel present. Real. “And you know you’ll always fit with me, Dabi, and Rumi,” he fiercely states. "Always.” You know that he means it; that it’s a promise. 

“Thank you,” you softly sob as gratitude for him washes over you. You pull away from him, wiping at your tears. “God, I’m a mess,” you sniffle, looking away from him. You don’t need him to see you like this––so broken. Keigo takes your wrists into his hands, prying them away from your wet face. 

“C’mon, look at me,” he whispers. 

You do so and you instantly regret it. Because now you don’t see the concern of a friend in his eyes. You see something more. Something deeper. It’s intimate and sensual, his golden irises appearing like sunken treasure to you now as they glide over your face, taking in every single imperfection. He looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, and he makes sure you know that.

“How is it you look so beautiful even when you cry?” He wonders aloud. 

You get the feeling that he is talking to himself more than you, but your body still reacts all the same. You become hot despite the cool, crisp water on your skin and your heart hammers against your chest as fast as a hummingbird’s wings.

“Keigo,” you whisper, because that’s the only word you can think to say. The air has suddenly shifted to something more charged so you struggle to breathe. It feels like your lungs are being squeezed the more time that ticks by and the closer Keigo gets to you. 

You don't even realize that he is leaning in until his lips are on yours. They are pillowy-soft and smooth. They move slowly and carefully against yours as if afraid you’ll bolt or shove him away, though the kiss is still passionate. You can feel every ounce of tenderness and intimacy in this one little act. Instantly, all of the sadness and guilt you felt earlier dissipates. All from Keigo’s lips. 

It ends faster than it began and horror crosses Keigo’s face when he realizes what he just did. What just transpired between you. “Shit,” he swears. “I-I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t…”

The rest of his sentence dies in his throat as you slowly lean in again and press another small, innocent kiss to his pillow-soft lips. 

You only peck his lips one, tentatively so, wanting to try it out again to make sure those fluttery feelings you felt from the first one are still there. They are. This leads you to lean in again and kiss him deeper, passion exploding between you. Your arms find his neck and his find your waist, his fingers running up and down your spine and across your waist.

‘No,’ your head thinks. ‘Stop it. Push him away. You shouldn’t be doing this. He’s your best friend!’ 

But your heart and your body say something different. You know you need this and you’re helpless to stop, especially when Keigo runs his tongue across your bottom lip.

You grant him access to your mouth by parting your lips a bit, allowing him inside. You feel his tongue begin to swirl with yours, the taste of tequila and champagne heavy on his tongue. You softly moan at the taste and feeling of his hands on you, never traveling farther than your back.

But you want them further. You want them everywhere. It’s so, so wrong to be feeling this way, but it also feels…right.Like you and him are meant to do this. 

Keigo pulls away from the kiss, saliva dangling between your tongues, to duck down to your neck. His lips latch onto your throat and collarbone, peppering your skin in kisses and slight nibbles that have you gasping and softly moaning into his ear. Your best friend is kissing your neck. This is insane. He begins to reach for your bra strap, his fingers tickling your spine, but you’re cognitive enough to realize where you are. 

“Keigo,” you whimper. “Not here.” He peels himself away from you and fixes his eyes on you, his stare intense and unyielding. “Are you sure?” he asks. You know that he's asking if you’re sure about doing this. About crossing this fragile line between friends and not-friends. 

You know that you’re drunk. You know you’re not thinking clearly. You know you should say no and stop this from happening. But the idea of spending tonight alone is worse than death for you right now. “Yes,” you hear yourself whisper breathlessly. “Just take me, Kei. I don’t care. Just please take me.” You grip his shoulders in desperation, peering up at him through your lashes. 

He doesn’t need any more confirmation. Instantly, his hand is in yours and he’s helping you swim towards the pool steps to gather your clothes. You don’t quite remember putting them on. You don’t even really remember walking towards the elevator to go down to the hotel lobby. You’re only aware of Keigo and the hotel clerk’s voices being a mumble while your arms are looped around his waist and your head is leaning on his shoulder.

At some point though, you and Keigo go up to a hotel room. When he uses the key given to him by the clerk to get in, you’re taken aback by how beautiful it is. The living room area is spacious with beige floors, white, plush furniture, a flat-screen, a minibar, and a kitchenette. The scent of lavender and clean sheets hits your nose as you walk in, shivering slightly from the AC. 

As soon as you’re inside the room and the door shuts, Keigo is on you. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling himself flush against you where you feel his hard-on pressing into your back. You gasp softly at the feeling, realization hitting you: your best friend is hard for you. He’s turned on by you.

His lips find your neck, pressing soft, wet kisses along it. You moan as his lips press everywhere he can reach––the back of your neck; your shoulders; behind your ears. “Keigo,” you softly moan. 

“Tell me what’s goin’ on in that head,” he says, sounding absolutely in need of you. His hands grip your hips, pulling you tight against him. “Tell me you don’t want this now and I’ll stop.”

But you don’t want him to. All rational thinking has flown out the window for tonight. You loop an arm around the back of his neck, turning your head to messily kiss him. “I want this,” you whisper against his pillowy-soft lips. “I need this, Kei. Please just fuck me.” 

Keigo doesn’t need any more confirmation. He turns you around by your hips and scoops you up, forcing you to wrap your legs tight around him. You moan into your feverish kiss as you feel his bulge press against your panty-covered pussy, still wet from the pool and your arousal that is quickly taking over you.

You wrap your arms tight around his neck so you’re wrapped around him like a koala bear, your body pressed flush against his. His hands cup your ass as he walks through the hotel room to the bedroom which has a single king-sized bed, a private bathroom, and a flatscreen. 

You don’t have enough time to admire the decor or how big the bed is when Keigo places you onto the cool, navy blue comforter covering it. The fabric smells of fresh cotton and feels soft against your skin. You relax into the mattress, your arms at the top of your head and your legs opened, your knees bent.

You stare up at Keigo who stands at the foot of the bed, admiring you. His eyes shine in the darkness like molten gold, making you tremble. You’re not sure if it’s out of anticipation or anxiety. But when he touches you, just one hand sliding up your thigh, one thing is for sure: you feel safe under his touch. 

Keigo continues to slide his hand up your thigh until he reaches the hem of your dress. His eyes tick to yours, a question in them: Okay? 

You nod, afraid to speak and ruin the magic you feel in this room tonight. With his other hand, he begins to peel your dress up your body, revealing your damp panties and bra.

“Fuck,” he whispers, mostly to himself. “You’re so beautiful.” You flush at his compliment. Though he has given you many compliments before, this one feels different. It’s way more intimate and sensual, especially in this context. 

He positions himself on top of you, using one hand to keep himself upright and not crush you. With his other hand, he begins to pull the front of your bra down to reveal your breasts and hardened nipples. You lean up to help him, unhooking your bra from the back and letting it fall away from your chest. 

You shiver under his gaze, relishing the way he stares at you in complete awe. He looks at you as if he has dreamed of your breasts for years now. Wordlessly, he presses his hand to one and latches his lips on the other, twirling his tongue around your hard, brown nipple.

A moan escapes your lips at the feeling of his wet tongue and skillful hand playing with your breasts. You lay back down, relaxing as his ministrations continue. He soon alternates between your breasts, soft moans emitting from his mouth as he sucks on your nipples. You feel him nip and tuck at your skin, no doubt trying to give you hickeys. He even tugs and tweaks at your nipples, sending tiny parks of pain through your body that make you gush. 

When he does it the first time, just by pinching one of your nipples between his thumb and index finger, you can’t help the loud moan that pours from your chest. “Fuck, Keigo,” you gasp, tossing your head back. “Do that again!”

He does so, making you gasp. Your hands find his hair, your fingers threading through his blonde locks. 

“You like that?” he asks, his hot breath fanning across your naked breasts.

You nod, a whimper leaving your lips which makes him chuckle. He continues to knead one of your gorgeous titties with one hand while his mouth works one of your nipples, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. Your pussy trembles and gushes in your panties, begging for some relief and attention. He must be reading your thoughts too because you suddenly feel his free hand creep down between your thighs to stroke your pussy through your panties. 

“Fuck!” you cry out, your thighs clenching around his hand. He continues to stroke you up and down, his fingers sliding against your clit that jumps and quivers at his touch. It’s unbearable. You need to feel his fingers on you. You need direct contact.

“Keigo,” you whine. He peeks his eyes up at you from your chest, still sucking away at your nipples. “Just pull them to the side,” you huff, nodding down at your underwear. “Please…I need you.” 

Understanding what you’re craving, Keigo pops your nipple out of his mouth, his eyes flashing with lust. Without a single word, he peels your panties to the side with one hand and begins to gently play with your pussy. He slides his fingers along your slit for a few moments, getting you used to his touch, before dipping his fingers between your soaked pussy lips. You toss your head back and moan at the feeling of his fingers playing with you, feeling released.

“You’re so wet, mama,” he whispers, staring down at his fingers stroking your cunt. “All of this for me. Me.” He says it like he can’t believe it. 

You whimper, opening your legs more for him. He begins to slide his fingers along your clit, not going under the hood. Your moans grow louder as he rubs your clit with his index and middle fingers while his thumb continues to slide along your slit, just dipping very lightly into your pussy.

You notice how closely he pays attention to your responses, both verbal and physical. With every change in your breathing pattern, every moan, whimper, and gasp, every twitch of your body, he does what you wordlessly tell him. You’ve never had someone pay such close attention to you and what you need. 

His tempo and pressure begin to get you close to cumming, so you place a hand on his wrist, stopping him. He looks up at you in confusion, wondering why you stopped him. You lean in and press a pleading kiss to his lips, emitting a moan from him.

Your tongue licks his bottom lip, asking for entrance. He grants it to you, parting his lips to allow your tongue to swirl with his. The kiss is wet, sloppy, and messy. Just the way you like it.

Keigo’s deep moans travel straight to your pussy, making it gush around his fingers that continue to slowly and lazily rub you. When you pull away, a string of saliva hangs between your bottom lips. You immediately go for his crotch, touching his hardened dick hiding beneath his pants. He stares at you longingly, eyes lust-blown. 

“I need you too,” you moan, begging him with your eyes and your touch. “I wanna touch you.”

You’ve never wanted to touch someone more. Without a reply, Keigo positions himself on his back, his head against the pillows. His golden eyes beckon you forward along with his cock that pulses inside of his briefs.

Unable to stop yourself, you slowly crawl over to him, loving the way he watches you. He doesn't take his eyes off of you for an instant. To him, nothing matters but you. 

Once near him, you turn around and climb on top of him, letting him help you by positioning his hands on your hips. You lean forward so your ass and naked pussy are in his face, both of your holes on display for him. The hungered groan that escapes his lips makes you smile to yourself. You love feeling desired like this. You feel his hot breath and soft lips fan over your ass as he begins kissing your asscheeks, his hands massaging the globes of fat to his liking. 

When you finally pull down his boxers, you can hardly believe your eyes. His cock is the most beautiful one you’ve ever seen. Thick; veiny; tan; curves slightly upward. It protrudes from a thick nest of trimmed, blonde curls that are darker than the hair on his head which trails up to his toned stomach and abs. “You’re perfect,” you whisper aloud, entranced by how gorgeous of a dick he is packing. 

“Thanks,” he chuckles, his breathing fanning against your pussy. “But actions speak louder than words, baby.”

He then goes back to devouring your pussy, running his tongue up and down your slit. You give him the same treatment by licking your hand and stroking his cock, up and down, up and down. You let him get used to the feeling of your hand on him, and you get used to the feeling of his cock in your hand. He feels so heavy and soft, all smooth, warm skin in your palm that you watch stretch across his shaft. 

His soft moans into your pussy at the feeling of your soft, little hand stroking him and the vibrations his moans cause push you to move things further. You open your mouth wide and wrap your lips around his cock. You moan at the same as he does when your cock sinks into your hot, wet mouth. He feels so warm, hard, and stiff in your mouth.

And he tastes heavenly! 

Though the pre-cum that bubbles from his cock head is salty, it somehow tastes good to you. You love his dick in your mouth. You show him how much by sucking on him in time with your hand, stroking whatever you can’t fit in your mouth. 

You feel Keigo grip your ass tighter as your tongue slides against his shaft and your cheeks hollow, making your mouth even tighter of a hole for him. “Fuck, baby,” he groans, his breath fanning against your clit. “Your mouth feels amazing.” 

You hum appreciatively around his cock, continuing to suck on him, imagining him stretching out your cunt the same way he's stretching out your mouth until your jaw begins to ache. 

You have a reason to pop off his dick and take a break when you feel his finger begin to caress your slit in replacement of his tongue. You moan in response to the way the soft pad of his finger brushes against your sensitive pussy lips and dips ever so slightly into your entrance. 

As he does this, you feel his tongue begin to bathe your asscheeks, licking at the globes of fat until it trails down to gently lap at your asshole. Your mouth falls open, reacting to the pleasure, but also the fact that Keigo likes to eat ass. Rei never did this for you!

But then again, you never thought to try this either. You’re honestly shocked at how nice it feels combined with his finger lightly fucking your pussy. 

“Fuck, Kei!” you moan, your head dropping down from the utter pleasure coursing through your body. Keigo hums from behind you, his face stuffed between your ass that he’s gripping for dear life. He pulls away and you feel the trail of saliva he has left behind along your asscrack.

“This okay?” he huskily asks. “You like my tongue here?” His finger continues to pet your pussy, his knuckles nudging at your clit. “Yes,” you whimper. “Yes, please, just keep going. Whatever you’re doing feels amazing.” 

He chuckles lightly from underneath you and spits on your pussy before slurping it back up, sucking on your lips as he does. Your moans and wails bounce off the hotel walls as he continues to eat your cunt and your asshole, his lips, fingers, and tongue working magic on your body.

You’ve ever had someone treat your body so well and pay such close attention to your reactions to whatever they do next. It feels good to be taken care of in such a way. 

You want to make him feel the same way, so you take him back into your mouth and you don’t stop. You sink lower onto his dock, pushing him deep, deep, deep into your throat until you’re gagging along his dick and spit is dripping down his balls. His shuddering moans and huffs into your holes make you take him deeper, your throat stroking his cock oh-so-well.

You’re completely filled by him, wondering if your pussy will feel the same way with him finally snuggly inside of you. Taking things one step further, you take one hand and lightly begin to stroke one of his wings splayed out along the bed. 

“Shit!” Keigo hisses. You feel his body tremble underneath yours the more you stroke his feathers. You know how sensitive his wings are.

One time, Keigo described an interesting experience at a spa where the masseuse was way too good with her fingers, started massaging his wings, and he came all over himself. It was a very embarrassing moment, to say the least, but he put in a good word to the masseuse’s boss to make up for it. Though the story was hilarious, you always were curious as to how he would react to your touch.

You get your answer now, listening to him moan and feeling his hips grind up into you, his cock nudging against your tits for relief. Your fingertips play with each silky, soft, crimson feather, stroking up and down each part of his beautiful wing and enjoying his body’s responses. 

“Jesus, Y/N,” he says shudderingly. “You tryin’ to make me cum like this or what?”

You giggle at his impatience. “Sorry. Lemme help you out.” While you’re still playing with his feathers, you wrap your mouth around his cock once more while you stroke the bottom half with the other. You are put to work, using your mouth and hands to please him while he pleases you.

When he starts to thrust this cock into your throat in time with your head-bobbing, he nearly loses it. “Fuck, Y/N!” he growls. “If you keep doin’ that, I’m gonna cum down your throat.” 

You nod eagerly onto his cock before popping off of it, your mouth coated in pre and spit. “Do it,” you plea. “Cum in my mouth. I want you to.” You go to suck him off again, but he stops you by laying a hand on your shoulder. “No,” he says determinedly. “I need to be looking at your face if I’m gonna do that.” 

Something in his tone makes your pussy gush and ache for the same thing. You stop touching him and lean up onto your knees, right above his hard, throbbing cock.

“Let me get you inside of me first then,” you purr. You feel Keigo tense underneath you, obviously not thinking you wanted intercourse. You look back at him with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry; I’m on the pill.”

You shift your hips as his hands grasp your hips, helping you keep steady while you hover above him. “Go ahead, babe,” he breathlessly says. “I’m all yours. I’m whatever you want me to be.” 

He takes his cock into his hand and aligns it with your entrance, never moving even an inch. He lets you take complete control of this. “I’m your man tonight, baby,” he whispers. “If you want me.”

Those words nearly drive you insane. Once you’re ready, to come down onto his cock, only taking the tip first. You both gasp at the same time as soon as he’s snuggly inside of you despite it only being the head.

It’s a stretch and it takes a few breaths to take him, but Keigo is patient and plays with your clit in the process. His fingers definitely help, making your cunt slipperier enough to take him inch after inch. With each one you sink down on, you rise back up onto your knees until you’re slowly bouncing on his dick. 

You felt your pussy accommodating to his girth, your walls stretching around him. You’ve never felt so full before. He’s so thick that he fills up every inch of your pussy, making him feel a lot bigger each time you move back down to take him.

Keigo keeps his hands on your hips, moaning every time your pussy comes down along his cock. “Goddamn, you’re takin’ me so good,” he groans. “You’re so wet…so tight…so…f-fuck.” 

It’s starting to feel better for you too, so much so that you start bouncing a little faster than before. Soon, the sound of skin smacking against skin begins to echo throughout the room as your ass slams against his pelvis and your pussy sinks down onto his cock, again and again.

You’re fucking your best friend. You’re having sex with your best friend…and it feels so damn amazing.

“God, Kei!” you cry out, tossing your head back. Your moans become louder as his fingers continue to rub your clit, his circles becoming quicker. “You feel so good! I could cum just like this!” 

“Go ahead,” he urges. “Cum all over me if you wanna. You deserve it.”

You feel him sit up, his front against your back, forcing you to sit down fully on his cock.

“You need it,” he growls into your ear. You damn near scream in pleasure when he leans you forward by placing a hand on your back and begins to rail you, his hips slamming against your ass. 

With each thrust it bounces and jiggles, hypnotizing Keigo and causing him to give your cheek one loud smack. The only sounds echoing in the room are of the bedsprings bouncing, skin slapping against skin, the lewd squelching of his cock plunging into your pussy, and your moans quickly reaching a crescendo as your orgasm begins to rise.

You can’t stop it. It rushes over you like a tidal wave, causing the knot in your core to finally snap.

“Fuck, I’m cumming!” you shout. “I’m gonna…I��m gonna…”

And you do. Your body trembles and a long, drawn moan of release leaves your lips as you cream all over Keigo’s cock. Pleasure courses through your body for one single moment until it starts to fade, leaving you feeling totally satisfied. 

You can hardly believe it: you came for your best friend, all over his dick. And it felt amazing. Keigo holds you in his arms, his thrusts pausing and his cock still hard inside of you. He wipes your hair from your brow and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Still want another?” he asks against your temple.

You feel his cock throb insistently inside of you, drawing a weak moan out of you. You turn your head to brush your lips against his, his cologne invading your senses. “You didn’t cum yet,” you purr. “So hell yes.” 

In a blink of an eye, you find yourself on your back, falling victim to Keigo’s ungodly speed, his dick still inside of you. A giggle escapes your lips that is quickly swallowed by his lips when he swoops down to kiss you.

He wastes no time hiking your legs over his shoulders and proceeding to rail you like the world is ending. His speed is quicker than before, his grip on your hips hard and possessive. “Is this okay?” he asks, worry in his crimson eyes. “I’m not hurting you?” 

You vigorously shake your head against the pillow underneath you. “Don’t stop,” you whimper. “Please don't stop, Keigo!”

Your hands trail up to grasp his shoulders and your ankles lock around his waist, your heels digging into his ass. “Fuck me,” you plea, staring deep into his eyes. “Please, baby.”

Baby. Like he’s your baby. Like he’s yours. 

The pet name seems to affect Keigo deeply because he completely changes before your eyes. His eyes grow a darker crimson, like the purest blood, and his wings curl around you, shielding you from the outside world.

Before you can ask what’s happening, he begins to fuck you harder, faster, rougher. He is almost feral in the way he fucks you into the mattress, grappling at your tits that bounce every time he thrusts his hips forward and smacks at the meat of your thighs. 

“Fuck, Kei!” you shout, your eyes going wide at how deep and fast he’s fucking you. “Your hand!”

Keigo slows his roll for a moment, staring down at you in confusion. “Huh?” he huffs, still bumping his hips into yours. 

You’re so drunk off the alcohol you consumed earlier and the pleasure that you just blurt what you want: “Put your hand around my throat,” you plea. “Please.”

His eyes widen an inch, looking shocked at your request. But he doesn’t refuse it either. 

One hand reaches down to wrap around your throat, his fingers squeezing your neck. It’s not enough to make you uncomfortable, but it’s just enough to make your mouth fall open and your airwaves feel constricted. He begins to fuck you up against the bed again and it suddenly feels way more intense than before.

“You like that, mama?” he growls. “You like my hand around that throat? You wanna get choked while I fuck you?” 

You pitifully whine in response, unable to speak with his hand grasping your throat and his dick stroking your insides. His cock turns your pussy into wet, gummy mush as it glides against your G-spot and his pelvis nudges against your sensitive clit. It’s all too much. You’re going dizzy from the pleasure. You’re seeing stars. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. 

Keigo leans down to press his forehead to yours, the intimacy of it somehow making the fucking session even more intense. “You wanna cum?” he teasingly asks. “You wanna cum with me?”

He squeezes his hand around your throat a little more, constricting your breath. You wordlessly nod, sobs of pleasure escaping you as your pussy tightens around his cock again. You can tell this orgasm is going to be a big, exhausting one.

“Make me cum!” you beg, gripping his shoulders tighter. “Please make me cum, Keigo!” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He plunges his cock into you at a breakneck pace with his mouth latched onto yours, your tongues swishing together. He pulls away with a groan and stares down at you, his gorgeous face contorted in pleasure.

“I'm gonna cum,” he whispers. “I want you to cum with me too. Give it to me, baby.”

He sits up and speeds up his hips, fucking you up against the bed and causing the headboard to knock against the wall. “Cum for me, Y/N,” he demands. “Cum on this dick. Do it for me, baby girl.” 

You toss your head back and cum with a loud, long moan of his name, sparks of pleasure exploding in your body. It triggers his own orgasm almost instantly. He stills his hips and grips your body to his as his cock spurts rope after rope of cum deep inside of you, filling your pussy up.

“Fuck!” he growls into your ear, panting heavily into your ear. You weakly whine as you feel him cum inside of you, the wet, warm feeling overwhelming you. Aftershocks begin to course through your body, causing you to buck your hips against Keigo. He grips you to him as if he's afraid of letting go, making you feel every ripple of his muscles against yours. 

“It’s okay,” he coos into your ear. “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you now.” He begins to stroke the back of your hair as the aftershocks begin to fade, leaving you exhausted and sleepy from two great orgasms.

“I’ve got you,” he says again, lower this time, as if he’s saying it to himself. He continues to say this like a mantra, but you barely hear it. It becomes a lullaby to you, slowly dragging you further and further towards sleep. 

And some point during the aftercare, you pass out and Keigo wraps his soft-like-silk wings around you as he settles next to you. He presses a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment. “Goodnight, Y/N,” he whispers.

Then sleep comes for him too. 

[sitkowski]

the future could be our dream ( adam de micco x f!reader )

pairing: adam de micco x f!reader cw: some suggestiveness and a little angst, but mostly softness. word count: 650 author's note: once again dipping my toe into the lorna shore writing pool for a hot second, and writing this to cheer myself up. title comes from "pain remains I: dancing like flames" by lorna shore, obviously. divider by @saradika-graphics ✨

⇉ masterpost || taglist signups

When he tells you not to waste your time coming out to catch up with the tour, you know that he means the opposite. He wants you there, he just doesn’t know how to tell you that. So you go along with it, tell him you have work and you’ll call him over the weekend, even while you’re booking the flight and texting with Will at the same time about getting into his and Adam’s hotel room without Adam knowing. Will’s always willing to get a little diabolical in the name of love, he makes sure there’s a key card for you at the front desk.

You and Adam have been together long enough that you know when he needs you, even if he says the opposite. A little deceit like telling him that you’re not going to come out for the last run of shows hurts you a little bit, because you can tell he’s disappointed, even though it’s supposed to be his idea that you miss them. He doesn’t know that you’ve had the time off work approved for weeks and even if you didn’t, you’d find a way to get there. The end of the tour is always the hardest; short tempers and homesickness and late night calls telling you that you deserve better than waiting for him to come home to you.

He doesn’t seem to get that he is your home, so you intend to remind him.

The flight and the trip to the hotel are seamless, and you have a little bit of time before the band returns from the venue. You let yourself into the room and think about how you’re going to surprise him. It’s easy to spot his bag amongst the small pile by the desk, and you pull out one of his t-shirts to change into before crawling into the bed that you hope is his. Nearly forty five minutes pass before you get a text from Will, letting you know that Adam was on his way up to the room. You hurry to turn off the light and slip back beneath the covers, waiting patiently.

When you hear the electronic sound of the door unlocking, you have to cover your mouth with your hand to keep from giggling out loud as he steps into the room. Adam turns on the lights and it actually takes him a few moments to realize that you're there. And then he’s just standing in the middle of the room, staring at you with a slack jawed expression. He even rubs his eyes as if you’re not really there and he’s imagining it.

“You’re here?”

You nod, slipping from beneath the covers and crawling to the end of the bed. “I’m here.”

“I told you you didn’t have to come.”

“Well,” you shrug. “I didn’t listen.”

Adam narrows his eyes at you, a smile forming on his lips. “I don’t know if that’s stubborn or sneaky.”

Rising up on your knees, you shrug innocently, winding your arms around his neck and kissing him soft and slow. It’s been weeks since you’ve had his hands on you and that’s all you’ve been thinking about. Him touching you, being next to you, being inside of you. His hands slide over your hips, pulling you closer as he presses his face into your neck. You card your fingers through his hair, holding on to him.

Just as quickly, he pulls away. “How did you get in here? No one at the desk mentioned anyone being here.”

“Well you see…” you shrug again. “I kinda had some help.”

“Explains why Will suddenly dragged Austin off somewhere two seconds before we walked into the hotel. I thought he was just being Will.”

Before you can say anything else, he tilts you back until you’re both falling on the bed and he kisses you all over until you’re both giggling.

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