#but i decided to spare myself the brain melt

[darticous]

I'm not carrying this burden on my own you guys have to live with these drawings now too

[infpfandomgremlin]

Bf Hongjoong x audhd gn reader

SFW

A/N: I myself am audhd (autistic and adhd) and I haven’t really seen much at all of ateez and nd reader stuff so I decided to write about it myself, specifically Hongjoong as he’s on of my ults. This is based around my nd habits/brain/experience, as obviously I know myself best so I draw from my own experiences, however I did try to include a bit of other nd experiences.

Hongjoong is nd in this, if you don’t like that, don’t read. (Let’s be honest, that man is most likely nd in reality anyway)

Fuck that’s a lot of writing. Onto the actual content:

• He’d silently notice when your brain is completely scattered and you just can’t think of what you’re meant to be doing. He’d come over and ask what you’re trying to do and then direct you on what steps to do to achieve it. You know the steps, but your brain just can’t sent them out. (with demand avoidance idk if this would work for everyone, but ik for me this is basically a love language)

• Throughout the day he’d ask if you’ve been eating and drinking, softly reminding you to if you haven’t. Or if you have decision paralysis he’d bring up the list of your safe foods he has on his phone and suggest some

• He’d always carry a spare pair of charged noise cancelling headphones with him, even when you’re not with him (he probably needs them too, I’m 99% sure that man is neurodivergent) he’d have them for you in case yours die or you forget them

• He’d always appreciate it so much when you check if he’s eaten and drank water as well, even if he doesn’t necessarily express it, because he forgets to a lot

• He’d know most if not all of your safe songs, have a playlist of them on his phone for if you need to listen on his phone for whatever reason

• Music is 100% both of your shared special interest. You’re always sharing songs with each other and singing together

• One day he asks if you want to see how he makes music. You gladly accept and so he takes you to his studio and starts showing you how he makes beats, how to put the song together, his recording process. He infodumps and gets so goddam excited to show his favourite person one of his favourite things ever. It just makes you so happy to see him so ecstatic taking about his special interest

• The look he gets on his face when you’re infodumping about your special interest to him makes your heart melt. It’s so so so loving, because he’s seeing his favourite person at their happiest, feeling completely safe unabashedly sharing their favourite thing with him

• He’ll sometimes see you nesting with all your soft toys when you’re in sensory overload, and he thinks it’s the cutest goddam thing ever

• You’ll both occasionally come home to the other person having cleaned a significant part of the house (usually the bedroom) because dopamine dopamined

• I feel like he would know he’s nd but wouldn’t actually know heaps about it, like the traits of it, and what it means for a person in their everyday life and how their brain works, so he’d learn so much about it from you, always willing to try to understand you better, and never telling you that you don’t have certain traits/diagnoses simply because he hasn’t done the research (lol not me trying to heal myself through this post)

• You’d pick up stims from the other members, just from random things they’d do or say, not even necessarily them stimming, but their stims as well (Seonghwa I’m looking at you). Hongjoong would jokingly get jealous that you’re not picking up his stims. You do though, ALL THE TIME. One of you gets a new stim and suddenly for the next 2 weeks that’s all that’s happening around the house, whether it’s vocal stims or physical stims

• You guys find it so difficult to be in social situations and often get anxious when you’re not with each other in social situations. Which gets really difficult for Hongjoong cos of his job, but your shared special interests and stims gets him though it usually.

• When you guys are together in social situations you are glued at the hip, never leaving each other’s side; you’re both each others safe place

• HJ already isn’t fond of physical touch but when he’s in sensory overload he can’t stand someone being even a little too close to him. You’re his safe place, safe person, but if he’s too overstimulated he will go into shutdown if you come to close. You learned this early on from experience and you now know what his stims and behaviour are when he’s overstimulated and know to give him the space he needs, which he appreciates infinitely. He loves you even more for it and you will always do it for him because you love him

• On that same idea, he will come to learn what your sensory issues are, and what triggers them, what your behaviour and stims look like when you’re in sensory overload and what to do to help you best. He just wants you to feel like he understands you and wants you to know he respects and loves you for your nd, not in spite of it

• You both aim to best understand each other’s neurodivergence and respect it and it brings so much love to your relationship

———————————————————��———

I think that’s it for now. If you’re a nd atiny and there’s anything else you can think of lmk and maybe I’ll make a pt 2

This wasn’t planned btw, completely impulsive lol

[froguemorgue]

(1) Creature Feature: The Many Secrets of the Laurens Son

vampire drabble pt 1/?

historical Hamilton/Laurens

Slight CW for blood and non-explicit mentions of sexual intimacy

[part 2] >>

After Manning, Laurens decided he would never turn another human. She was his first and only victim, after all— she never seemed to want to forgive him for what he'd done. Reasonably so, of course. To be fair, it wasn't entirely his fault. He was practically starving and animal blood was barely satisfying his needs. It wasn't his fault that he had been bitten in the first place. He had tried to explain to her that perhaps if he'd been taught how to sate his thirst and how much to take from a living person...

Even if he had trusted Kinloch, it wasn't his fault; a moronic mistake, yes, but he wasn't to blame. After his two big mistakes, he vowed two things: One, to never turn a human; and two, to never trust another person again, vampire or human. With those two promises engraved onto his brain, Laurens fled from Europe and began his new life playing soldier.

His vow to never trust another man fell flat after meeting Hamilton. A graceful, grimacing yet energetic redhead with a quill fueled by pure fiery passion. That man was like an enigma, yet he let John know him. And for whatever the reason may have been, Laurens couldn't help but feel drawn to him. And there was a part of him that was afraid he would lose him. If any man deserved immortality, it would be Alexander. Not yet... but if he ever could reveal his secret, then someday, he should like to live with him forever.

And so, he paced. He had known Hamilton for a year now and every day he only felt himself more and more attached, more trusting. When he simply thought about the man, it practically melted his skin. It was as if he stood right before him, perhaps smiling if only a little, beginning to go off about something or another all passionately as he did. He heard Hamilton's voice, too. Saying something to him— it was his name, repeated like a mantra.

"John," the ghost of Hamilton's voice mumbled in Laurens' head. "John Laurens. John. John."

Laurens opened his eyes again; no Hamilton, no mantra. He peeked out his tent - something he'd put up if only for more privacy at night from the aides, justified by the fact that he was merely a secretary and volunteer of no rank - and he saw a small group of men walk by, most not in blue, holding their coats and spare clothes. They couldn't afford uniforms, of course. Some good-natured laughter and the Continentals moved on, except for one, who pushed back the flap of the tent haphazardly.

The young and fair aide de camp smiled pleasantly at Laurens. "I was hoping you were here. You spend so much time exercising or working and yet I hardly see you. How was the letter coming along? Did you find the privacy better suited to it?"

Laurens glanced back at the unfinished letter before looking at Hamilton. "Only somewhat."

"I hope you aren't busy. Will you accompany the lads to bathe at the stream? We should take advantage of these warm days while they are still here."

"Later, when it is peaceful."

Hamilton nodded, expecting to accompany him later, then.

Laurens tacked on, "I was just about to take a walk through camp myself. Shall you join me?"

"If it pleases you," he replied.

"Always."

Hamilton felt a smile spread across his cheeks before he realized he was flattered. Laurens took this opportunity of Hamilton's bashfulness to face him, tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, admire his smile with one of his own. Hamilton straightened Laurens' necktie as he whispered, "Are you sweet and impartial to me, John?" to which Laurens just laughed pleasantly - for Hamilton knew the answer, after the nights they had shared, closer than the warm nights necessitated - and he started for the exit. Hamilton followed, quickly trying to push down the arising fantasies of pulling him back into that tent for a kiss.

There was one particular incident which redefined Laurens' relationship to his companion, except it was entirely on his side - and Hamilton was none the wiser. It wasn't the first time they'd kissed or the first time they got in close enough to feel one another's shapes beneath their sheets. It was much more complicated than their improper desires. Normally, of course, Laurens would have hesitated more to allow the sexual aspect of their intimacy, but he didn't need to. He'd live forever, and if there was a hell, he was damned already.

No, their complex relationship was born of a common mistake, really, a slip of the letter opener one night as they worked, the last two left in the room. Laurens looked up immediately, nose sensitive to the smell. It wasn't much blood. It was enough, however, for him to have the excuse to stand up, pull his handkerchief from his pocket, and stain the white with red.

The reaction was initially due to his genuine concern, then when his hands tenderly squeezed Hamilton's with the fine fabric between them, he realized how sweet he smelled, how hungry he was. He was leaning in without realizing, still awkwardly pressed over the table. Hamilton was looking at him, assuming his eyes focused on their clasped hands had more to do with Laurens' shyness than what really was bothering him. Hamilton did not look around before shifting to stand, squeezing his hands tighter, kissing him gently on the corner of his lips. He'd whispered, "There was no need to dirty your hankerchief."

Laurens cleared his throat, took it back slowly. He folded it and placed it in his pocket again. "I'm sorry, I think I'll retire to our room early."

Bells rang in Hamilton's head. "Finished your letter?"

"About an hour ago," he admitted. He gathered his papers.

As he went around the table and passed Hamilton, Hamilton said, "Then what's caused your sudden retreat?"

He kissed Hamilton's cheek to reassure him that, "I'm not retreating. I'll be awake when you come to bed, don't work too much longer."

"All right. I'll be up shortly."

With that squared away, Laurens left in a hurry. He couldn't wait to get upstairs, instead pulled out the small square of bloodied fabric as soon as he turned the corner. It was against his nose in an instant. Once he was in their room, he could no longer retrain himself. He could have swallowed the fabric whole. He tasted it, and god, it was like pure opium. It was everything he'd been craving.

From then on, nothing was the same between them. No amount of blood from anywhere else could get Hamilton's off his mind.

[next part] >>

[magpies4nights]

Do you guys think Dummy from GASA4AM:SNACKCORE knows how to use a microwave (Dev log #9)

Hiiiii everyone, I am back again. I'm starting to get used to my new classes, which may be considered a while for some people. I would have updated y'all last week, but I had NOTHING but music. and honestly, that's just boring. Literally last week I thought I was being nice to myself by not doing my homework for a very important class.... It was due the next day. I cried myself to sleep at 3 am because of how terrible I was with managing myself. I mean my brain was melting since I took a quiz before that and the teacher was relatively very demanding with the questions.... sooo yeah. I put this on myself......haha......... I lived though. Miraculously.

(sorry)

I’ve still been working on more locations! Whoopee! The player's room is done. there iiiiiis another location that was not originally on the GASA4 map like ever but was on Todd's Breakfast Adventure, but I decided since it was associated with spooky shit, you know damn well I'm gonna use it. I started working on the upstairs section of it. I also reworked the GASA4 house because I didn't like the way it was handled before, and yeah it's a bit glitchy but it works for how I want it to be.

I'm almost done with making the music. I just have to make music for outside the house and the Diner, and then after the 10th dev log you guys will be spared from any of my music.

Aaaaanyways, here is some of the music I made recently. They're pretty short compared to the usual because they're gonna be looped a lot (one of the songs has me singing in it (and is the only song with vocals, because I hated the vocals for Semicolon, so I had to rip 'em out), and I can't sing. You have been warned):

🔥🔥🔥🔥Mimimiii mimimiii mimimimimimiii 🔥🔥🔥🔥

(don't mind the fact I didn't screen record it like a normal person, this was a video I sent to someone before I turned it into a gif)

[sanctuaryoftheodd]

Chapter 7: Sculpting the Perfect Body

I was marched out in cuffs and into the open air of town. I was shoved down to the town square where a large, tree trunk sized pike standing erect in the middle of a pile of wood was waiting for me. A witch burning? Seriously? They were going strong with the guillotine, I thought they were going to do something bigger for the third one. Maybe an iron maiden? Maybe stretch my body out in one of those... body stretching contraptions? Ooooh, maybe they can continually put more and more boulders on me to try to squish me to death. Then I can be a badass and say "more weight." Such a missed opportunity there. This is the point where I realized I had a morbid perspective on life.

Once again, the herald took his place next to me and read from a scroll.

"Anomaly, you've been found guilty of..."

"It's Anne, now." I spoke up.

"What?" The herald shot me a surprised look.

"I go by the name 'Anne.' Can you please call me that?"

The herald looked at the guard, then at the audience, back at me, then he turned back to his scroll.

"Right, um, Anne, you've been found guilty of..."

Phew. I thought. Being dead named would have hurt me more than the fiery death they have planned for me.

As soon as he finished reading off my crimes I was led to the pike and was strapped on. Like all the other executions, I could easily escape, but the show must go on!

They tossed a torch into the kindling under my legs, and the fire rapidly reached towards me. I stopped breathing. Despite not having any lungs, my body would automatically make me cough violently if I inhaled any smoke. It's one of the ways my dad tried to make me more "human," but it's actually not fun to find yourself in the throws of coughing fits. Not to mention I'll sometimes cough up items from my inventory space because of my gag reflex. It was worth dealing with the sting of not having air. So yeah, I stopped breathing.

The heat licked my body from head to toe. It kinda hurt so I stopped myself from feeling pain. In fact, I stopped having a body entirely as I let the heat melt me into a pool of liquid. I wish I could see the audience's faces at that part. As the heat intensified, my body started to boil. At this point it was really hard to think. My mind was literally all over the place, being bounced around as molecules. Then my body started turning into steam and then I really started losing brain function. As my mind escaped into the air, so did my consciousness.

I blinked awake. Two guards were dragging me by the shoulders. Oh yeah, and I was once again naked. I should have stored my clothing in my inventory before doing that stunt. Whoops. The guards decided against sparing me my dignity and just dragged me back into prison while I was still in the buff. I got a lot of wild looks from my fellow prison mates. Eventually I was chucked into my cell.

"Anne! You're alive!" Raina jumped up to help me, but immediately turned away as soon as she saw my current state, her face going completely red.

I climbed onto my legs and plopped down back in my bunk. Raina returned to her's, but she's making a solid attempt to look at anything BUT me.

"I knew they were lying when they said you burnt up." She said as she looked at the ceiling.

"You know, Raina, I don't care if you see me. I'm not particularly shy."

Upon hearing that, Raina was quiet for a moment, and then she cautiously looked at me. Her face was crimson as she scanned my nude form from head-to-toe. Okay, on second thought, this is kind of embarrassing. I felt my own cheeks burn up as I awkwardly glanced off to the side.

"You know, when you said you were a puppet, I thought you would be featureless," she said as she looked, "but you're actually fully built down there."

"Oh yes! It's fully functioning, too! I can even get pregnant."

"R-really?" Raina met my eyes in surprise.

"Yep! I spent years sculpting myself this way. I'm quite proud of the outcome!"

Editing my base form can be difficult, but with much patience, I was able to make a body I was much more happy with. I have my father's extensive sex education to thank for all this. He would show me diagrams, explain to me how everything worked, he would make me bed every consenting maiden we saved, we visited plenty of brothels-

Suddenly, Sotakeh yelled from her bunk, screaming like a banshee on steroids. She yanked off her pink fur-lined sweater and threw it at me. "Put some damn clothes on!"

Out of respect to her, I slipped on the article of clothing. While the sweater was a little small for her, it fit me perfectly.

It was late (at least according to a clock in the hallway) so I allowed myself to fall asleep. I didn't need it to survive, but I would feel groggy if I didn't. It's one of those auto-responses that my body has. It knows that naturally people tend to feel like crap when they don't get sleep, so it makes me feel like crap. Same goes for eating, drinking, boredom...

I woke early the next day. Or at least I thought I did. It's hard to tell if that clock is accurate considering there weren't any windows. There was an unusual feeling in the air. Something had changed.

One thing that was immediately apparent, there were no guards around. Even at night, there were always some stationed, but I couldn't sense their magical signatures anywhere close. I didn't know the exact range of my senses, but I'd at least be able to sense the servants in the mansion above us, or the people on the streets outside. Maybe they found a way to block my senses? But, why would they only implement them now? And how would they know about my ability to sense magic signatures in the first place? I kept that ability rather close to my chest.

All my cell mates were asleep, so I squeezed my way through the bars and plodded my way down the hall as quietly as I possibly could. When I reached the large metal door at the end of the hall, I pushed my arm tip against the lock of the door. My flesh molded itself into the crevasse of the keyhole, filling the grooves the key normally would. Then I harden my flesh into a metal and turn. I call this "armpicking." The door unlocked with a metal clank that rang down the hall. Honestly, the hardest part was getting the damn door open after that.I explored around for a while, but just as my senses indicated, the place was abandoned. I had a very bad feeling about this.

-----

(Arc 2: Ambush)

[ayearwithoutwater]

Twenty-nine.

I decided sometime in the past couple of years that a year doesn't truly begin until after the Lunar New Year has passed. Therefore, the time between January 1st and the variable date of the Lunar New Year is a liminal space, a calm before the storm that is the remainder of the year. During this limbo, I spare every effort and I laze about. It's the opposite of committing myself to a set of New Year's resolutions—my blood pressure can't, won't, accept any more stress.

When I was in elementary school, we lived in a one-story home on a street named after a common flower. The internet wasn't yet what it would be and life was still lived offline, so my free time was always spent outdoors. I used to wade through my neighbors' front lawns and bushes, looking for ladybugs and butterflies. Back then, suburbanites weren't quite so afraid of each other, and nobody begrudged the little Chinese boy his frequent incursions onto their property. I was harmless, and I was precocious.

Later, when I inherited a bicycle, my world opened wider. I rode across countless neighborhood blocks, keen to explore and set on discovering parks and greenspaces, as if they were secrets to be revealed to the curious. My imagination ran wild, unchecked.

In my little bathtub in our quaint suburban home, I busied myself. Sometimes, I brought with me my Game Boy Color console to play as I bathed, and I once dropped the device into the water. It was completely waterlogged, drowned, and I couldn't revive it. Desperate, I handwrote a letter to Nintendo and mailed it with my Game Boy, explaining to them as a child would that mistakes happen but maybe they would be able to fix it. Weeks—or perhaps even months—later, they wrote me back, and they included a factory new console. I was ecstatic.

That bathroom was the scene of many of my personal dramas. In there, I remember thinking about my mortality. I had just learned to think about death, and I tried very hard to imagine it. I pictured myself in my late 90s, lying in a hospital bed. I figured that that could be a natural end. What happens when one dies? I thought and I thought, and then I realized it would be like the end of being able to think. My brain would turn off and my consciousness would fade to nothing, and the ceaselessness of my thinking was a rudder that would slow to a stop as I left the world.

It terrified me. The idea of everything melting into nothing, it was too much for me to handle. I burst into hysterical tears. My parents, who had come over to see what was wrong, were bewildered at how upset I was about death. I was too young to be thinking about such things.

A couple years later, I came across the principle of mass conservation. I liked to read about science. Although it may be rearranged, mass can neither be created nor destroyed. That presented a new counterpoint to my thoughts about death, my fear of dissipating into nothingness. The laws of the universe dictating the constancy of matter implied to me the possibility of reincarnation, of life beyond death. No longer would I have to be afraid of my consciousness vanishing; it would reconstitute itself elsewhere, perhaps in another body, bringing me back as another being. The cycle of life would continue.

But, consciousness isn't material—it is ephemeral—and this is wholly unscientific and perhaps bordering on spiritualism. If it is not tangible, if it is not matter but instead the electric byproduct of the neurons in my brain firing away, even if my far-fetched concept of conservation applied here, could consciousness be preserved? After all, few others alive today can recall their past lives. I, a child, feared the hard truth. I was afraid of the answer being no, because that would assign such finality to the present, such frailty to being.

This New Year, I'm thinking about the impermanence of life. How feeble it is, how easily it strips away—as I face my mortality, all else is insignificant. How precious the few decades I'm allotted are before my grand adventure here comes to a close.

I wonder what he would think of me, that child version of me, my self from over two decades ago. He's a construct I've created in my mind, I know, but I'm afraid of letting him down. I keep telling myself that I can't waste any more time, I can't fail myself any more, because I've already burned through three decades and I don't know what I have to show for it. I'd like to live the rest of my life to the fullest. I don't know how much longer I've got.

[pluvio-et-luna]

to the love and light of my life.

my cooper. my sweet little baby cooper.

it has been exactly a week since you breathed your last. my cooper. i am devastated beyond words. the pain in my heart indescribable. words of love and comfort came pouring in once i told our loved ones. but my cooper... it's so difficult to make sense of all these thoughts and emotions that have occupied my already chaotic mind and heart. so i turn to writing. as i have always done. for myself and for you. this honestly might not be as good as how i used to write. i know this would reflect how my brain is right now. all over the place. but i know you'll be able to read all of this. after all, you are such a smart boy.

---

"good morning, world! good morning, sun. good morning, sky. good morning, clouds. good morning, birds..."

our morning routine. i would carry you and look outside the front door while greeting everything in this world. when it wasn't so hot and if i had extra time to spare, we would go to the garden and i would let you smell the leaves and say hello to the ants and other insects. sometimes i would let you peer through the gate for a bit. your little head perfectly fitting between the metal railings. we would stay indoors on rainy days but we'd say hello to the world just the same. or sometimes we don't because it's too cold and it's so good to stay in bed with you. my cooper... i have always dreaded mornings. i hate waking up, i didn't want another day to start. but you made every waking moment worth it. my i love greeting each day with you. but this time, the morning rays won't find us both by the door anymore. do you think the birds perched on top of the trees miss us? do you think the wind is wondering why it doesn't carry our voices anymore? do you think the leaves are waiting for you to sniff them again? cooper, i don't think i could greet them any time soon. not by myself. not without you.

there is a flame in my heart that i am trying to put out. cooper, how should i feel when they say that you are in a "better place" now? i know it's just me being in denial that you are gone, refusing to accept that you will no longer be beside me. this was your place. this home is your place. it will always be. you filled every corner of this house with traces of you that it would be impossible to not break down when i peeked at those spaces without you there. i want to scream at the heavens because it angers me that they decided your time with us was up. i am so desperate to cling on to every bit of you that was left here. it's so unfair. i did everything that i can. we all did. i wanted more years with you. more seconds. more minutes. more days. a lifetime. i still need you, my cooper. we still need you. but. i also know that it would be unfair to you if you had to suffer more.

so, my cooper. it's okay. i will be okay. i could endure a lifetime of grief if that would mean that you would not feel any pain anymore. i will learn to pick up the broken pieces of my heart and find the others that have gone elsewhere. it might take some time but i will get there. i will plant a garden in my heart just like the one we have at home. our memories and moments will be planted in that garden. 10 years worth of memories. from the day we got you, so tiny and lovely and kulit. to the nights you would stay up late with me into the wee hours of the morning, as a student, as a professional, and as a human being with an unhealthy sleeping patterns. to the moments i was alone at home but i was never really alone because you would keep me company. to my darkest moments, through losses and heartaches. to my brightest moments, such as when i graduated, when i passed the board exams, and whenever i got accepted into a new workplace. you were there to wipe every sad teardrop with your kisses and you were there to melt into my hugs to celebrate. you were always there. you might be gone physically now but i know you will always be there to watch over me and go through all the moments still.

years ago, i made a piece for my tumblr account inspired by Chella Man and MaryV Benoit. i asked my friends to describe love as the 5 senses. i cannot remember if i even answered that myself. maybe this is my chance. you are the embodiment of love, my kupi. but if i had to describe love as a sound, it would be the sound of your bark that resonated within the house, the sound of you whimpering as you did a good scratch on your ears, the sigh you let out when satisfied or when you want to be judge us, the little grunts make waking up as you stretched, and the cute and precious sounds you made when you melted into my arms for a hug. as a touch it would be me feeling you snuggle beside my body and into the nooks and crannies of the bed, it would be feeling your soft fur when i hug or pet you, and it would be the kisses you would plant to my face. it would also the sound of you scratching at the door to be let in. it is also the scratches you would leave on my arms and legs when you ask to be carried or when you are just being so likot when you are excited. as a sight it would be your brown eyes which are so full of love, kindness, and curiosity. it would also be seeing you run around, dance, and play. it would be seeing you run or walk to us whenever we call your name. it would be seeing you do the "i love you" pose to us whenever and wherever. it would be you waiting at the door for me after coming home from work. as a smell it would be your good stink that i would so gladly sniff, the smell of your fritos paws, the smell of shampoo when you're done taking a bath at home or from your grooming session, the smell of the very first time you farted while i was carrying you (it smelled of chicken), and your smell that is left on your clothes after you wear you.

the past months made me realize that love could also look and feel a little different than what we are used to. love is the feeling of my tears rolling down my cheeks every time doc trisha showed me the results of your xrays. love is preparing your food and medicine even when we both get frustrated, me because you would refuse it sometimes and you because you hated the sight and smell of it. love is my hand smelling of your food and medicine because sometimes the only way that you'd let me was to have it fed to you with my hand. love is you giving in and letting yahku give you your meds even if you hated it. love is staying up late to wait for an update because i was utterly worried for you during that one night you had to be confined. it was the first time in 10 years. love is falling asleep seated at the sofa while i try to distract and calm myself down until i fell asleep at 3am. love is the sight of you giving all your strength to sit up to look at me and nuzzle your face into my palm when i visited you during my break time. love is me not caring if i paid 100 php to the trike because i didn't have any loose change with me. i was frantic during the short trike ride which felt like forever. i needed to get to you as fast as i can. love is you waiting for all of us to be together with you. love is you hearing how pogi and cute you are in between the sobs of "i love you"s and asking you to hold on. love is hoping that you would make it and then we'd go home as we always did. love is so painful. love is clifford nudging my arm and looking at me then to you as if to tell me to wake you up. love is me contacting the crematorium for the nth time this years even if it pains me even more because it's for you this time. i never imagined it and i never wanted to. love is driving you there using Inno, your car. love is breaking down because you weren't there to ask for a french fry after we bought mcdo on the way home. we didn't even touch the fries and other food because we were heartbroken. love is breaking down into tears every night and at any random moment. but love is learning to accept that i would have to live life without you here.

someday, i would be able to look at the places you've stayed in even if you're physically gone now. i would be able to scroll through the pictures and videos i have of you without the feeling of being punched in the gut. i would be able to share your memories with my friends fondly. i know we'd all gush over you, like people always do when they see you. then one day, maybe i could greet the mornings with much love as i did with you. maybe i could hold on to the hope that the birds, the butterflies, and the wind could carry my words towards the heaven and reach you. i hope we could spend another lifetime together, napi. i would find you or maybe you could find me, we'd come running towards each other, and then we can live life together again. no matter how it ends. i will always choose to meet you again and spend another 10 years or more with you. from the brightest to the darkest times and all the moments in between.

mahal na mahal kita, bebi babi kupi ko. achi will always do. i'll see you soon, bebi napi kupi.

[graceful-inks]

I think I know why I have writer’s block. I think it’s easy to see. I have written everything I know in a notebook, on a spare sheet of paper, a guest check, a napkin, the empty columns of books, the back of your hands, the discarded fast food bag that gets swallowed by my passenger side flooring in my car, the receipt that floated gently beneath your bed before I found it and decided it needed ink on both sides. I have written every sentimental feeling and tragedy and fictional notion of love I have felt since I was nine writing stories about groups of girl friends meeting groups of boy friends falling in love in high school and middle school. I have written about my first love, my second, my third, and subsequently my first second third and even more heartbreaks, my experiences with growing pains, my excruciatingly long winded relationship with my mother, the way it felt to be drunk, the way it felt to be in love, and the headache I received from both. I have exaggerated the way it felt to love you in particular. I have tried to gather the words to describe losing my loved ones. I have chewed up your love and spat it out onto the page, it still smelled like whiskey, thank you for asking, and I have burned through every memory of you and made it sound pretty, wrapped up in a little bow under the christmas tree.

I think there is something to be said. And I think I have spent too long thinking I need to be the one to say it. I am a voice of reason in my own turbulent brain. I consider myself the protagonist in my life, I mean that’s the point, right? A hero of sorts, winning the war by puking up every single thing that pops into my head and flaunting it about as if I’m the first person to have a cohesive thought on paper. I’m proud of myself for my ability to extrapolate my emotions in a way that makes me feel intellectual. A hero in my own eyes. Look at me, embracing the pain, an esoteric being of sorts, hiding behind words as if they’re things beyond the naked eye of you average Joes. Look at me. Experience my blinding rage and my superiority complex. Look at me. Perceive me as you will. At least they’ll look.

But what if all I write is indicative of the bigger issue? What if all I am is not who I think I am? What if all I am is the girl he left crumpled on the bathroom floor in a heap, cloaked in blood? What if I am only the granddaughter left behind as they journeyed far beyond anything I can see or experience? What if I can’t see them again, and I am stuck forever being an anti-hero in my own goddamn story that I wrote myself? What if I have created a monster, stuck in a one-bedroom in tears because this is the character I created myself to be? What if all I’ll ever have is the guilt of being the protagonist in my own story? What if all I am is who I am- and that’s all I’ll ever be?

I am not the first person on earth to get slammed into a freezing cold, blue, metal locker on a Wednesday morning. I am not the first person to be on the receiving end of the absolute wrath of a fellow hormone-fueled thirteen year old. I am not the first girl to grieve who she was when she was eighteen because who she is at twenty-three is just a more fragile, frightened version of herself in the dirty mirror (I never quite remember to clean it as I should). I am not the first survivor to feel shame and guilt. I am not the first victim to be blamed for what has happened to me. I am not the first, nor the last, tragic twenty-something scared of shadows but embracing the ghosts behind them. I am not the first person to experience a sign from her guardian angels.

I could disappear, you know. Beneath the trees, shrouded by their canopies and into the forest I’ll go. I could jump out of a moving car and bury myself into the grassy mossy dirty pit beside the road and become nothingness, melting into the earth to be absorbed into the air to become a force of nature, a hurricane so big it swallows you whole. But see, there I go again. Expecting you to believe that I have significance besides my genetic makeup and what has happened to me. What even has happened to me? Here she goes again, expecting you to know what I know about her, me. Nothing consequential. He hit me, and he’ll hit her too. They left me here on earth to rot without them, but people die everyday, right? I got my heart broken. I drank too much. I went to work and experienced empathy and got on a boat, not in that order. I opened my notebook and wrote it all down, I chewed up my agony and then spat it back out. I had an original thought, just kidding. The world is burning and I will burn with it and in time, I’ll realize. I have writer’s block because I’m not a writer. Or maybe I am. But I am no hero. I am nothing special, nothing new. I am experiencing emotions. I hope you enjoy them.

[luxwritesfanfic]

Always Attract

The strobe lights won’t stop blinding him and Sherlock can’t seem to shake the feeling that he’s missing out, until he realizes he isn’t. Or, the one where the reader reminds him that they’re [Sher]locked for life. Enjoy!

Sherlock Holmes/Reader

Sherlock knew very well what it meant to be lonely.

He spent most of his life alone, physically and mentally. Before John, he had no one and he resigned himself to that fact. He didn’t need anyone else. They were too stupid, too vacant, they could never keep up with him. He would never allow them to.

As Sherlock looked around John and Mary’s reception, he wished he was able to mingle and chat aimlessly with people he didn’t really care about. He was willing to try, but it seemed no one could acknowledged his effort for what it was. He thought about calling for John but he knew he couldn’t monopolize all of the newlyweds’ time. That didn’t stop him from wishing that John would be so bored with everyone else that he’d come and talk with him. Things could go back to how they used to be just for a moment, and he could take the time to adjust.

He watched as everyone migrated to the dance floor and began pairing off, laughing and smiling and enjoying themselves as they should be. People walked around him like he wasn’t there and he wondered if that was how it had always been. Sherlock had always kept his distance from most people, they either could never compare intellectually or they couldn’t take his personality so he was used to being singled out. Most of the time it was by his own doing, but in cases like this all he wanted to do was fit in. He couldn’t recall a time, if there had been any, where someone truly wanted to know him.

And then there you were. He hadn’t a chance in hell when it came to you. You burst into his life and tore everything he had built in your wake. You were everything he wasn’t and still no defense system he had was enough to keep you, and ultimately his feelings for you, at bay. With one last resigning glance around the ballroom, Sherlock decided that he’d just go home. He would be the person to leave the wedding early if that meant he could go home to you, and you’d dance with him and tell him he’s brilliant and he’d get to hold you a little closer to him than necessary.

“The most handsome man in the room and I don’t have to steal you away from anyone on the dance floor? Guess I could’ve left the brass knuckles at home.” You walked up behind him and you don’t know what made you smile more, the way his face lit up when he saw you or how the stress left his body when you reached for his hand. He should have known by now that you would always come for him.

You had been late to the reception from being on-call at the hospital but you were finally off for the night and you came ready to celebrate with the most important people in your world.

He tried to hide the upward twitch of his lips but he couldn’t hide that from you if he tried.

“I didn’t think you would make it.” He brought your hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. The strobe lights were shining all over and people were dancing around you but it felt like you two were the only ones in the room. You thought it was selfish to think that at your best friends’ wedding, but the more pressing concern was how sickeningly in love you were with everything Sherlock was at that moment.

“And miss seeing you all dressed up? I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” You were sure if you waited just another moment he would have asked you to dance, but you didn’t have a moment to spare. You had already missed out on so much. “Dance with me?”

You assumed his answer was yes because as soon as you asked and started to walk away from him and towards an open space, he was hot on your heels. He stops as you turn to face him and he looks like he’s about to speak but he doesn’t. Instead, he grabs your hands and places them where they should be and you two begin to slow dance.

He wants to tell you that he’s spent the whole night trying to connect with people and it failed every time. That he doesn’t understand why people don’t react to him the same way they do you, someone who lights up every room they’re in.

“You’re far away from me, aren’t you?” You asked as you continued to dance, your voice no louder than the music playing but Sherlock had heard you all the same. He nodded as he continued to lead you around the dance floor. To everyone else he seemed as he always did: composed, graceful, arrogant. But you could tell by the way his eyes looked past you and his lack of commentary that he wasn’t really with you. Sherlock was grateful that you knew him so well. He often found answers when he was lost to his thoughts but there were also times where he couldn’t find his way back. He’d get lost in everything he didn’t understand, everything he missed out on, everything he got wrong.

As if you read his mind, you cupped his cheeks between your hands and brought his forehead to yours, dancing an afterthought to you both now. You smile at him and he swears he sees the light. “Sherlock,” you whisper like you’re telling him the secret to everything, “I need to tell you something.”

You move your arms back around his neck and he pulls you closer as you two begin to dance again with the everyone else. The room  was glowing with love, and you were so happy to see that so many people showed up to celebrate your closest friends’ day.

“You were the one thing I got right. Seriously, you were the obvious one. I don’t think it could be anyone else if I tried. It’s you. I love you so much.”

It was then that it hit him that you could walk away from him at any moment and take with you the light of the only love he’s ever truly known. He also knew then that you would never hurt him like that because when you told him you loved him he could actually see it. In the way you were looking at him, holding him. In the ways that you always showed up for him. You were never shy with showing it, he just wasn’t observing.

Sherlock looked at you with so much admiration you thought you’d melt on the spot. “You mean that.” It wasn’t a question.

“You know I do.” It was as simple as that. You looked around to see that John and Mary were free and you started to pull Sherlock towards them. You hadn’t seen them all night and you wanted to shotgun champagne and get your family pictures. As you pulled Sherlock through the crowd, people you knew approached you both and for once Sherlock felt a sense of normalcy. He thought he’d hate it, but he found he was a perfect fit at your side as he reveled in that fact that you’d replaced a lot of your “I’s” with “we’s”. You included him as an integral part of your life and he had never thought that anyone would see him as an extension of themselves. He decided to never let you go.

You and Sherlock eventually made it back to Baker street a little more drunk than you meant to be and a lot happier than you thought was possible. As you went to start untying his tie, his hand grabbed your wrist.

“Is that,” he cleared his throat, his eyes moving around the room nervously before finding yours again, “is that something you want? A wedding, I mean.” Sherlock was fumbling over his words at this point and you couldn’t tell if he was really that nervous or if that final tequila shot was starting to make his brain numb and he couldn’t keep his words straight. 

You freed your wrist from his grip and smoothed your hands over his shirt and under his blazer to push it off his shoulders. It was quiet for a few minutes before you finally spoke. 

“If we’re being honest, the only person I see myself marrying is you. And weddings aren’t your thing. As handsome as you are dressed for battle, I think we’d probably be better off doing a nice dinner. Maybe at Angelo’s with our friends. We can go to the courthouse and then take our own very special holiday. I’m thinking somewhere warm, Bora Bora?”

“Y/N, I think I’d burn.” Sherlock smirked and all you could do is laugh at your ridiculous man. Your ridiculously lovely, handsome, out of this world man. You thought about coming back with something witty, but the way he was looking at you was screaming, “I think I just told you I wanted to marry you, I love you, please kiss me” so loudly that your ears were ringing and you thought you’d be doing the world a disservice if you didn’t answer to your true calling: loving Sherlock Holmes with every fiber of your being. So of course you kissed him. Again, and again, and again.

Sherlock kept your answer tucked away in his mind and it came to surface everytime you walked Northumberland street. He wasn’t even sure you remembered the conversation but he’d never forget it. He’d talk to Angelo about the dinner and leave it up to Mary to decorate the room and he’d ask you and you’d say yes and then you’d get married by whoever could officiate it the quickest. John would get the chance to be Sherlock’s best man and his mother would probably cry and you’d be looking at him like you love him, because you do. And he’d look like he loves you too, because he does.

[reciprocityfic]

Aww I want them all! But okay, let's start with 1. A conversation you wish had happened in canon. For AmyxLaurie

1. a conversation you wish had happened in canon.

“I’m not marrying Fred.”

She tries to say it nonchalantly, void of emotion so as to not reveal the anxiety churning in her gut, but she’s afraid that the slight tremble in her voice betrays her. She tries to take a breath to ground herself, but the air that leaves her lungs comes out unsteadily.

She waits for him to answer - to say something, but he doesn’t respond right away. She wonders if he’s finding out for the first time. She meant to write him after she turned down the proposal, but hadn’t yet; everything seemed to be happening so fast, and she hadn’t yet had the chance to gather up the nerve.

But it’s possible he found out still, she supposes. She heard Fred left for London soon after she turned him down, and he and Laurie run in the same social circle, the kind that thrives on any piece of gossip. Someone could’ve very well told him.

But he keeps his mouth shut, and even though she knows it’s only been a few moments since she spoke, his silence seems to stretch on and on. It allows enough time for her thoughts to swirl around in her brain, for her heart to twist itself into knots.

Maybe he’s changed his mind. Maybe time away from you cleared his head, made him realize that you were simply a substitute for Jo.

She feels the need to clarify suddenly; she doesn’t want to force him into anything, make him do something he’ll regret just to spare her feelings.

“I heard about that,” he says carefully, and she hears him somewhere in the back of her mind. But she’s already turned towards him, words pushing at her lips.

“And you are under no obligation to say anything, or do anything,” she assures him, trying to insert some sort of confidence behind her words, but she can’t quite muster it as she stares at her feet.

She takes another deep breath, exhaling audibly. She can’t do this without being honest, she realizes, without laying her heart bare to him. She suddenly thinks of how hard it must have been for him, to propose to Jo, to reveal his affection for her in the garden those weeks ago.

“I just didn’t love him as I should.”

Not as I love you, she almost tells him, but she bites her tongue. She’s trying, but she’s not quite brave enough to say it plainly like that. Not now, when everything is still so uncertain.

Again, he doesn’t say anything, and oh, he has changed his mind, hasn’t he? Surely he would’ve interrupted her by now if he still wanted her, given her some sort of response. She can feel his eyes on her even though she continues to look away from him. He’s probably trying to figure out a way to tell her no, she decides, and scrambles to save face, letting out another breath.

“So we don’t need to talk about it, we don’t need to say anything -”

He kisses her.

He kisses her, hard, and she can’t process it for a moment. She feels his mouth against hers, his hand cradling her face, the warmth of his body against her own, but she can’t put it all together. Can’t comprehend what’s happening to her.

But then, oh, he sucks her bottom lip into his mouth, moves his head upward slightly and tugs on it, and she’s aware of everything - the press of his nose against hers, each of his fingers against her cheek, burning their pattern into her skin. He’s everywhere, all over her, and she softens, melts into him as she kisses him back.

His free arm wraps around her waist, pulls her more closely against him, lifting her onto her tiptoes as she searches for his mouth. She wishes they could stay in this moment forever. That she could live here, wrapped in his arms, warm from head to toe as his lips move in time with hers. But that’s not practical, she supposes, and after a few moments more they separate, both of them out of breath in the most wonderful way.

“Amy,” he murmurs.

Her eyes are closed, but the corners of her lips turn up when she hears him say her name.

“Amy,” he beckons again, and she opens her eyes, finds him staring back at her with an expression so tender and loving that tears well in her eyes. “Are you listening?”

She nods, and he crouches down just slightly, so he can look more directly into her eyes.

“I love you,” he tells her. “You have to know that. You must know that I love you. With my entire heart and soul, I love you.”

“You do?” she asks, her breath catching in her throat. A part of her still can’t believe it, despite his proposal and the kiss they just shared. The part of her that had resigned itself to only being able to love him from afar, that had become so used to him always looking at Jo whenever she was looking at him.

“Yes,” he says, a breathless laugh leaving him as the arm around her waist tightens and his other arm moves from her face to circle her shoulders as he pulls her into a firm hug. “Yes. I love everything about you - your laugh and your eyes, your voice. The way your brow furrows and lips purse when you paint or sketch, and then the way you step back and smile when you’ve done something you think is good. How your eyes light up when you look at the art in museums. I love how much you love your family. I love the woman you’ve become, but I also love how I can still see that same Amy I’ve always known peek out sometimes, especially when you’re happy or excited.”

She presses her face into the crook of his neck, inhales him, and can’t help the tears that spill over as she listens to him speak.

“I love the way you inspire me and make me want to be more, for both myself and for others. I love spending time with you - just being beside you is the greatest pleasure I’ve ever known. I love you, Amy March, your heart and your spirit and your mind and your soul. Everything you are, everything that you’ve become and will become. I love you.”

He lets her go and takes a small step back, grabs one of her hands in his and uses the other to wipe away the dampness that’s collected on her face.

“I love you, too” she whispers to him, turning into his palm and speaking into his skin.

“You’re not...you’re not a replacement for Jo,” he declares ardently, holding her gaze. “And you’re not second - not when it comes to me. Not to anything or anyone, but especially not to her. I’ve loved Jo - I’ll always love Jo - but what I felt for her is not the same as this. This is better, and it’s stronger, and it’s more - so much more. And I never want it to end. I want to spend the rest of my life with it.”

He closes the space between them once again, kisses her forehead and then her cheek.

“Amy,” he says, and then he bends down, gets on one knee in the green grass at her feet. He takes both of her hands.

“I know so, so much has happened, and there’s been so much pain and heartbreak, but nothing would make me happier than knowing that I get to spend the rest of my life with you by my side. And I don’t have any kind of plan or a ring, but I do have myself and my heart and my love, and I’m willing to give them all to you, if you’ll have them. They’re already yours. So, Amy March - Amy Curtis March - will you marry me?”

And it’s the easiest decision she’s ever made. She can’t keep the smile off her face, and he smiles back at her when he realizes - the most brilliant smile she’s ever seen on him. He’s so beautiful that she could cry again, if she let herself.

He stands up at the same time that she reaches down and pulls at him. She kisses him first this time, and his hands wander over her body, moving across her shoulders and down her back before looping back up. He curls his palm around the back of her neck, buries the other one in her neatly pinned-up hair. They separate when they need to breathe, but they don’t go far, their mouths still resting together, smiles turning up their lips.

And she whispers against him, “Yes.”

send me a number and a pairing (preferably laurie x amy) and i'll write you a mini fic!

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

I Can't Help It If You Look Like an Angel

Summary: Spencer is not that kind of doctor, but he'll always come when Y/N needs him, even if germs are involved.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Warnings: One cuss (sh!t), kisses, small insecurities

Word Count: 2.5 k (was not supposed to be this long but I'm a monster)

Author's Note: From this list (3, 12, 14) since I hit 300 followers! Thank you! This request is from @willowrose99 (look for the bold)

I Can't Help It If You Look Like an Angel

Spencer’s half done with his third book that weekend when his phone rang. A weekend spent in the company of Nietzsche and Sartre is, according to Spencer at least, a weekend well spent. He can feel the relaxation that settles in his bones come crashing down as he phone rings.

Thinking it’s Hotch calling the team in for an unexpected case, Spencer, lethargically, walks over to answer the phone. However, realizing the caller is not his boss pulling him away from a restful weekend, but Y/N, his heart rushes with a sudden urge of excitement.

“Y/N,” Spencer starts. He’s more than happy to have Y/N interrupt his weekend; they even made plans for a day out on Saturday at the new Anthropology museum that opened downtown. But all of Spencer’s made up plans fall in front of his face, as he hears Y/N’s quiet sniffles.

“Spencer, I’m so sorry to bother you. I know that you’re probably enjoying your rest, but I guess I have a cold. One of the kids at school, I suppose,” Y/N tells him in between sniffles. Her voice is scratchy and Spencer tries not to think about how his brain seems to short circuit at the way his name sounds.

“I’m coming over,” Spencer says, cutting her off. He doesn’t like doing that, in fact he hates when that happens to him, but right now he knows that Y/N is going to try her hardest to stop him from coming over.

“No Spence, it’s germs. You hate germs and I’m really gross and snotty and—”

“Stop, Y/N. Don’t say another word. I’m on my way” Spencer says. He feels a little guilty for hanging up on her, but he knows that if he stayed on the line any longer she’d end up convincing him that he didn’t need to rush over. There’s not a lot of people in this world that can convince Spencer to change his mind, and he’s pretty sure that Y/N is one of them.

Spencer walks into his bedroom, looking for some supplies like a man on a mission. He decides to pack a small bag for the next three days. He’s off from work anyway, why not spend that time making sure Y/N gets better. Spencer packs away a couple of sweaters, flannel pajama pants and two thermal shirts. In the back of his drawer he spots a very old college tee shirt.

A memory, an early memory with Y/N, comes flooding to the surface. They got caught in a rainstorm after a picnic in the nearby park. Spencer changed into his comfortable tee shirt and pajamas. He would never forget the look on Y/N’s face; the way the rain collected on her glasses and for some reason she had yet to wipe them off. She called him an angel. Maybe it’s for bringing her some warm clothes or maybe she’s slightly on edge from their dash into Spencer’s apartment. Whatever it was that made her call him an angel, Spencer never wanted her to call him anything else. Besides his own name, in that scratchy sick voice that made him feel a little guilty for liking so much.

Spencer collects some other things he needs for his stay. A toothbrush, toothpaste, a hair brush, and his hair serum that Y/N says she likes the way it smells. When she told him that, Spencer could hardly wait to buy the entire supply from the CVS down the street. He tucks away in this bag with a small smile.

Walking out of his apartment, Spencer locks up and makes his way down to his car. He glances at his watch, realizing that it only took him a couple of minutes to get ready for Y/N. Quicker than what it takes for him to get ready for an emergency case. Then again, tending to a sick Y/N seems much pleasurable then looking at served bodies and mangled limbs.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After making a pit stop at a small convenience store near Y/N’s apartment, Spencer pulls into the guest parking spot near her complex. He attempts to shoulder the weight of his go bag; even though he only packed a couple philosophy books, they are quite dense. In his hands, he grasps the grocery bags.

Y/N’s apartment, thankfully, is on the first floor. Spencer approaches the door and thinks twice about knocking or ringing the doorbell. The last thing he wants to do is wake a sick Y/N up. He rummages in his pants for his car keys. Attached to the keys is a cat keychain with a spare key to Y/N’s apartment. Balancing the groceries and his own bag, Spencer quietly attempts to open Y/N’s door without possibly waking her up.

Once he finally gets the door open, Spencer realizes all too late that a large orange cat guards the tight hallway entrance. Spencer Reid, though a genius in his own right, is completely aware of the fact that he has two left feet.

“Oh, Zelda! Oh shit!,” Spencer yells as he trips over Zelda, Y/N’s orange cat. Zelda, scared from the noise, leaps from her spot guarding the hallway to the kitchen. Spencer brushes himself from his fall and picks up the groceries that fell during his tumble.

“Zelda, baby?” Y/N calls from what sounds like the couch from the other side of the wall.

“Hi Y/N, it’s just me. It’s just Spencer,” He says, placing the oranges back in his canvas bag and on the kitchen table. He sees Y/N laying on the couch. Surrounded by a pile of crumpled tissues, she smiles weakly at Spencer. He walks over to her and like an involuntary muscle, she scoots her feet so Spencer has room to sit.

Spencer, setting the beg on the floor, tucks Y/N’s legs over his. He rests a comforting hand on her calf that’s covered by a worn quilt.

“You didn’t have to come Spencer. I’m really okay, I just wanted you to know that I wasn’t ghosting you this weekend,” Y/N explains. The TV has been left on, but on mute. The colorful lights illuminate Y/N’s face in her dimly lit apartment.

“Nonsense, Y/N. What are friends for,” Spencer offers, wondering beyond belief if he messed up calling them friends. Their relationship had been quite strange for the past couple of weeks. Intense moments of silence where Spencer thinks he’d have the time to memorize every freckle on her nose or small grazes from fingers to wrists where Spencer swears she left scars that he hope would never heal.

“Friends,” Y/N says quietly. Spencer, offering a tight lipped smile, leans forward to straighten the blankets under Y/N’s chin. He presses the back of his hand towards Y/N’s forehead, feeling her warm skin under his knuckles. He’s not sure if the heat he feels is from her bug or from the adrenaline coursing through his veins at being this close to Y/N.

“You’re hot,” Spencer says, not moving his hand from Y/N’s forehead. She, loving the way his ears turn pink when he’s embarrassed, uncovers her arm from under the blankets and holds onto his wrist, keeping him attached to her forehead. Not that he’d want it any other way.

“So are you,” Y/N says. Spencer flinches and moves his hand from her forehead like she scorched his hand. In reality, her comment pierced his heart with hope.

“How much cough syrup did you take?” Spencer asks, choosing to face the situation with humor. There’s no way in the world Y/N could ever find him “hot” without the aid of cough syrup or another mind numbing substance.

“None,” Y/N says, reaching around to turn off the television. Spencer, getting increasingly nervous as the minutes of that intense silence passed, mentions to Y/N that he needs to put the groceries away.

“You really didn’t need to do that, Spence. I feel bad enough that you came here just to get sick yourself,” Y/N says. She’s folding the blankets that she was just resting under.

“I’ll always come when you need me to, Y/N” Spencer says, his breath catching and his eyes latching onto Y/N. He looks at her too long and there’s that intense silence again. Silence that is as thick as fog. Spencer can’t see facts through all the love that swallows him whole looking at Y/N.

“Maybe I knew that, and maybe that’s why I called you,” Y/N murmurs quietly, almost like she’s more scared to admit it to herself than to Spencer.

“Maybe,” Spencer says, breaking her gaze to put the half melted tub of green tea ice cream in the freezer.

“I think I’m going to shower, I need to put a fresh pair of pajamas on. I’ll be right out,” Y/N tells him, turning on her heel and leaving Spencer along with his thoughts.

Spencer can hear the water from the shower turn on. He estimates that Y/N will take at least 5 minutes in the shower, accounting for a margin of error, he supposes that he should start to heat the soup he bought from the store now, so it’s ready for Y/N when she’s done in the shower. Too bad all Spencer’s brain power is good for his statistics and numbers, not recipes and romance.

As it turns out, not a single statistic, nor a single digit could account for the possibility of Y/N walking out her bedroom, her hair damp and skin practically glowing, wearing Spencer’s worn college tee shirt. Spencer reckons that his eyes must have been bugging out from his head, given the spirited smile Y/N wears.

“I’m sorry, Spence, you know how much I love this tee shirt. I was putting some of your stuff away in your drawer and I saw this and I just couldn’t help myself. God it even smells a little bit like that hair gunk you wear,” Y/N rambles. She stands, leaning on her door frame, staring at Spencer who holds a wooden spoon that he used to stir the soup.

“You look like an angel,” Spencer says before he can stop himself. He just knows that his face is flaming red.

“You remember that?” Y/N asks, her voice light and hopeful. Spencer recognizes something in it. It’s the way his voice sounds when he talks to her, about her, with her. He can only hope that this is the way she always talks to him. He hopes with every fiber of his being that she uses that light and hopeful voice with him and only him.

“Of course Y/N. Then again, even if I didn’t have an eidetic memory, I’d still remember every single detail about you,”

“Now you’re making me feel guilty about stealing your shirt. You’re being all sweet and kind with me, it makes me fuzzy in the head,” Y/N confesses. She walks to her kitchen table, slowly closing the gap between her and Spencer.

“Keep it, it looks better on you anyway,” Spencer tells her. Her eyes grow big at his words and she presses her lips together like she’s holding something in. But something in her switches. Something in her grows a little sad and Spencer watches before his eyes as Y/N withdraws into herself.

“You can’t say that stuff to me, Spencer. You can’t say that stuff to me and not expect me to love you more than I already do,” Y/N says, her eyes shut and her lips pinched so tightly that it almost looks painful.

“Y/N,” Spencer starts, unsure what he’s supposed to say. His brain always seems to be playing catch up around Y/N. “Can I say it if I do love you back?”

Y/N eyes flutter open and narrow at Spencer, as if she’s reading him. Her eyes scan for any sign of a joke, of a prank, of Spencer trying to trick her. Maybe he should be upset that Y/N is doubting him, but all Spencer can feel is hatred for the person that made her doubt herself so much to not believe him.

“I’ve never felt what I feel when I’m with you, Y/N. No one else has made me feel truly me except you, Y/N,” Spencer professes, setting down the wooden spoon on the counter to reach Y/N’s hand.

“I never thought you’d feel the same way, Spence. I love you, God. That feels so good to say,” Y/N says, letting out a strained laugh. Spencer standing up next to her, places his hands on Y/N cheeks, and tries to lean in lower to kiss her, but Y/N’s finger on his lips stops his movement.

“I’m so sorry, I should have asked. I thought that this is-” Spencer stammers, suddenly very concerned that he violated Y/N in some way.

“Shhh, angel. It’s okay. I want you to kiss me. I really do, but I just want you to tell the facts on you getting sick if you kiss me,” Y/N says, not moving her finger from Spencer’s soft lips. He kisses her finger and grasps her hand with his.

“Sorry, I just had to do that,” Spencer smirks, “but to answer your question, unless you have a bad cough, and some of the respiratory mucus has made its way into your saliva, the cold virus will not be transmitted by kissing,”

“That’s good, so please kiss me, Spencer,” Y/N practically begs, eager for Spencer to leave pieces of him all over her. Eager for him to leave physical evidence of the marking he’s already left on her heart.

“You just might have to take care of me next week,” Spencer counters, peppering kisses over her jaw, knowing he’s purposely avoiding her lips.

“Spencer, I’m sick! Don’t tease me, just kiss me,” Y/N whines, and Spencer caves. He leans in slowly, meeting his lips to Y/N’s. It was the kiss that Spencer knew he’d be waiting for. A kiss that seals fate without a return address. A kiss that reminds him that he’s alive. A kiss that says forever and always.

Spencer, resting his chin against Y/N’s head, closes his eyes. The intense silence that existed between them, now is this light and hopeful air.

“Y/N, do you use my hair gunk?” Spencer asks. He can’t help but giggle with her and breathe in the familiar scent of her hair. He places three kisses on Y/N’s head and gently pushes her hair to the side to kiss down the back of her neck.

“I’m not sure what I love more, the smell of your hair gunk or the man that wears it,”

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[drabbles-mc]

Breaking In

Bishop Losa x F!Reader

Request by @garbinge​: So I did some prompt searching today and found this and thought about maybe a little best friends to lovers trope with Bishop: “look, i know that we rarely agree on things, and i know that you're not happy about how i choose to do things, but you're here, and i love you for it.” anddddd “are you gonna pull the trigger?”

Warnings: language, angst (with a happy ending), Bishop being the stubborn man that he is

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: I haven’t shown Bishop some love in a while and I really liked these prompts for him. Hope y’all enjoy! xo

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It had been a few days since you and Bishop spoke. The two of you had gotten into a minor blowout. You guys argued on a fairly regular basis, but it was always coming from a well-intentioned place on both ends. You were protective of each other and with the life that he lived, it was stressful to care so much. He wanted to keep you as far away from club business as possible, and you wanted the exact opposite—you couldn’t protect him or yourself if you didn’t know what you were going up against.

When you had called Bishop that day and asked if he was free to grab a drink, just wanting to see and talk to him after the long week that you’d had, he told you not to come by the clubhouse. He let you know that the club had pissed some people off and the clubhouse was a bit of a hot-spot. The information was meant to deter you, but if anything it made you speed over there as quickly as possible to make sure that everyone was alright.

When Bishop heard your car pull onto the lot, he made his way over to it, not even allowing you the chance to make it to the steps of the clubhouse. He tried to get you back into your car, telling you that sometimes you need to just fucking listen to him when he tells you to do things. You weren’t a person who took kindly to being bossed around, not even by Bishop, so things got out of hand pretty quickly after that. And it had been radio silence since.

You were getting out of the shower, ready to pull on your pajamas and climb into bed when you heard your phone buzzing on your bed. You hated that you were hoping to see Bishop’s name on the screen. It wasn’t, though. With a sigh you picked it up and answered.

“Hey, Angel, what’s up?”

“Hey. You with Bish?”

You scoffed, “No, why?”

There was a slight hint of amusement in his voice, “Damn. Alright. Didn’t realize that was a tense question,” he paused, “He left a few hours ago pretty pissed off. Stormed out of his meeting with Taza and Hank. We just…um…know that you two kinda…”

“Kinda what?”

“Don’t get defensive,” he laughed, “He just. You know. He talks to you. Figured you should be the first person to call since he isn’t picking up his fucking phone.”

You sighed, “I haven’t seen him.”

“Alright. If you do—”

“I’ll let you know.”

He tried and failed to bite back a chuckle, “Thanks. Take care of him, yea?”

You rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see you, “That’s all I’m ever trying to do these days.”

“We love you, y’know.”

“I know,” you laughed, “Bye, Angel.”

“Later, Y/N.”

You tossed the phone back onto your bed as you weighed out your options. It wasn’t like Bishop to blow off the club like that. You had no idea what was going on—he made sure of that the past few weeks, but it must’ve been something rough to make him storm out and shut his phone off. As much as you wanted to keep giving him the cold shoulder, your heart wouldn’t let you.

So that was how you ended up parking in his driveway that night. His bike was in the driveway and even though the house was dark, you knew that he was home and that he was more than likely still very much awake. He was never able to sleep when he was angry, which was half the reason the man was so exhausted all the time.

You were digging around in your purse as you made your way up the driveway. Eons ago Bishop had given you a spare key to his place in case of emergencies. You never really needed it. Whenever you were going to his place it was always because you were invited, so the door was always unlocked. He wasn’t expecting company now though, especially not yours.

Taking a deep breath, you slid the key into the lock. You were rewarded with the clicking sound of the lock opening. Part of you expected him to have changed the locks since he gave you the key so long ago. You were glad that he didn’t because the prospect of trying to open and crawl through a window wasn’t an inviting one. And you knew that if you knocked on the door and tried to get him to let you in, he would just ignore you. You knew because you would do the same thing to him if the roles were reversed.

The door always took some extra effort to push open. Bishop was more than handy and you never understood why he didn’t just fix it. Whatever the reason, you found yourself shouldering the door rather hard to gain entrance to the house. You stumbled in, bracing yourself against the door to keep from falling to the floor when it finally gave way.

“Fuck,” you mumbled under your breath as you straightened yourself out and pushed the door shut, locking it again. As you were going to pull your shoes off, you heard the unmistakable click of a gun. The house was dark and you knew that he probably had no idea that it was you. You chuckled, “Are you gonna pull the trigger?”

You heard him huff as he reached and turned a light on, “What the fuck, Y/N? You’re gonna get yourself shot breaking into places like that.”

You waved the key around, “Not breaking in if I have a fucking key.”

He put the safety back on and set his gun to the side. Exhaustion and frustration was present in every inch of his face. Part of you wanted to hug him, and part of you wanted to smack him because you still weren’t done being mad at him for being an ass to you.

“Why are you here?” he didn’t sound overly annoyed, just tired.

“The guys called me—they’re worried about you,” you walked closer to him, “Figured I should stop by and make sure you didn’t go off on a bender.”

He held his arms out, as if inviting you to inspect him, “Satisfied?”

As much as you wanted to keep being mad, your brain was telling you to reach out to hug him, to caress his face and make the worry lines fade away. You didn’t, though—you couldn’t. Instead, you shrugged, “For now. I’m not leaving, though.”

“Oh?”

“You can’t kick me out of the clubhouse and your house, Obispo,” you walked over and plopped down on the couch.

He sighed, “We’re still arguing about that?”

“We can be done arguing about it if you admit that I’m right.”

He sat down on the couch next to you, “You can’t admit that I had a little bit of a right to be mad?” he shook his head, “I asked you to do one thing and you just—”

“What about me made you think that I would just leave you guys alone if things were getting rough?” you didn’t let him finish his sentence, “I’m willing to break into your fucking house to make sure you’re alright. You think that I wouldn’t make the drive over to the clubhouse to make sure you’re safe?”

“So you do admit it’s breaking and entering?” there was a hint of a smile on his face, and you hated that it made your heart feel a little fuller.

You rolled your eyes, “Not the fucking point.”

His expression sobered, “I know. But you…you do get why I don’t want you involved in all that shit, right?”

“Not really.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line, trying to choose his next words carefully, “I’m not going to be the reason you get fucking shot. If you got hurt because my club got into shit with the wrong people I wouldn’t ever be able to forgive myself.”

“You aren’t responsible for what I do. I make my own fucking decisions. You don’t get to ice me out because you get nervous. You’re my best friend and you don’t get to just decide that I—”

“I can’t do this without you!” he snapped, shaking his head. He took a deep breath, making a conscious effort to quiet his voice, “I can’t lose you. You can get mad at me all you want over that. If you ignoring me for a few days, a week, keeps you alive then by all means fucking do it. If something ever…I can’t…” he couldn’t get his words in order.

You felt your attitude melting away as you watched him fumble to put his feelings into words. You reached out and rested your hand on his arm, “Bish, hey, come on now,” you smiled, “I’m tough. You don’t gotta worry about me.”

“Yes, I do,” despite your attempt to lighten the mood you could still see the heaviness in his eyes, “I’ve watched a million things fall apart in my hands. You can’t be another thing that gets added to that list. And if that means you’re going to hate me from time to time then I’m willing to live with that.”

“I’ve never hated you,” you said with a shake of your head.

He waited for your eyes to meet his, “Look, I know we rarely agree on things. And I know you’re not happy about how I choose to do things,” he covered your hand with his own, “but you’re here, and I love you for it.”

Your eyes widened at his statement, “Wh-what?”

He gave your hand a squeeze, “I love you.”

“Even when I’m kicking in your door?”

He chuckled, nodding, “Especially then.”

Your heart was racing inside your chest—you were almost certain that Bishop could hear it as he sat next to you. This wasn’t where you had been picturing the conversation going. Everything that you’d kept bottled up for years was bubbling to the surface as you smiled over at him, “I love you too.”

“And I’m sorry for yelling at you when you came to the clubhouse,” he sighed, “I just…I was picturing the worst and I didn’t want you caught in the middle of it.”

“You worry too much.”

He chuckled, his gaze meeting yours, “Someone has to.”

You felt like you were supposed to have something profound and meaningful to say. But as you sat there next to him and let him stare deep into your eyes, there wasn’t a single word or phrase that came to mind that could say what you really felt. That being the case, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his.

There was no hesitation in his movements as he rested his hand on the back of your neck, keeping your lips attached to his. You braced yourself against him as you leaned farther and farther into the kiss. His fingertips pressed lightly into your neck and you wished that you could just melt completely into him.

When you finally pulled away, both of you had satisfied smiles on your faces. You laughed quietly as you reached up, tracing your fingers through his beard, “Do me one favor, Obispo?”

He nodded, “Anything.”

“Fix that fucking door,” you laughed, “Next time I wanna come and see you I don’t want to feel like I’m committing a criminal act.”

He laughed, kissing your temple, “I can do that for you,” he paused, “Thank you for not giving up on me. I know I don’t make it easy.”

You chuckled, “Neither of us make it easy. Keeps us both humble.”

He pulled you into another soft kiss, “I love you.”

You kept your forehead pressed against his, “I love you too.”

[your-nerd-is-showing]

AOT Armin x Reader Not so Innocent Part one

Content: Smut

Warnings: losing virginity, Jean being an ass, slightly sub Armin, oral sex (giving and receiving), minors not allowed!

Artist Credit @Yuna_s10

TW: almost noncon

After Armin finds out he is a Titan and with the weight of his life being spared over Erwin's he really needs some comfort. You were there to give it to him, ever since that day he has wondered if you had deeper feelings than just friends. Armin kept a journal filled with his deepest desires for you because he is too scared to tell you how he feels. Meanwhile you try to make him jealous but it just makes him upset because he thinks you friend zoned him.

This is a side story between season 3 and 4.

You were out taking a midnight stroll because you couldn’t sleep. You could hear someone crying. “That sounds like Armin.” You said to yourself as you walked in the direction of the cries and found Armin huddled in a dark corner with his back turned to you. You walked over to him and hugged him tightly. “Armin please don’t cry.” You spoke softly as you pulled him in closer.

“(Y/N)?” He wiped his eyes. “W-why are you out so late?”

“I couldn’t sleep so I decided to take a walk. Now tell me what’s wrong Armin.” You said sweetly as you played with his beautiful blonde hair.

He pulled your arms around him more. “I feel so lost (Y/N) ever since Floch said that everyone resents me because my life was spared over Erwin's…. Part of me hates my-myself…. Why? Why did Levi chose me over Erwin? The Commander of the Scouts life is far more v-valuable t-than a m-measly Cadets life….” Armin started to cry again.

“Shhhhhh Armin please don’t cry I hate to see you upset.” You said in a comforting voice but he didn’t stop sobbing. “I don’t think Levi made the wrong decision.”

Armin looked up at you with his big blue eyes. “Y-you don’t?”

You wiped away his tears. “Not in the least bit.” You hugged him closer to you. “I feel like all Erwin did was come up with half-assed plans.”

“What do you mean?”

“Hmmmm well every plan he came up with to take down the Titans failed, but every plan you came up with worked we took down the armored and colossal Titans because of you. You even figured out that Annie was the female Titan. Without that beautiful brain of yours we would all be dead right now Armin. You saved everyone else.” You kissed his cheek making Armin blush. “And for that I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

Armin awoke from his dream. “Every night I have the same dream about that night with (Y/N)…. I can’t get her out of my head…. I…. I think I’m in love with her.” He looked over at you asleep next to him in your sleeping bag he had a smile on his face. “She always sleeps next to me…. Could she feel the same way?” He kept looking at you, his eyes traveled down and stopped at your breasts.

“She’s so beautiful.” He thought to himself, his mind wandered as he watched your nipples become hard. He let out a sigh. “The things I want to do to her.” He could feel his pants become tight. “Armin what are you thinking!? Ugh, but I can’t help it…. I want her so badly…. I, I need to make a move soon before someone else takes her away from me…. I see the way Jean looks at her.”

Armin took out his journal and started to write. ‘I had that same dream again about (Y/N)…. I just can’t stop thinking about her…. All the naughty things I want to do to her…. I just want to bury my face in her big breasts and crotch. I want her so bad…. This isn’t fair….’ Armin let out a sigh.

“Well, I guess I should take care of this growing problem down here….” Armin thought to himself as he quietly pulled down his pants and grabbed his length gently stroking. He bit his lip as he imagined it was you doing this to him. He gazed over at you while he touched himself quickening the strokes. He watched you roll onto your side facing him and your breast popped out of your tank top. His eyes widened as he felt his warm seed seep into his hand. Armin quietly pulled his pants back on and went to wash his hands. He came back and snuggled closer to you.

“Goodnight my sweet angel.” He whispered and kissed your cheek.

You woke up the next morning laying on Armin. You freaked out and scrambled to get up. “Why was I laying on Armin!?” You thought to yourself your cheeks turned red as you stared at him sleeping. “He's so cute when he sleeps.” You smiled at him as you stroked his hair.

“Hey beautiful good morning!” Yelled Jean.

You looked at Jean and smiled. “Why good morning to you too Jean!” You replied happily.

He held out his hand to help you up. “Care to join me for breakfast pretty lady?”

You took Jean's hand. “Sure! I just need to go get dressed.” You grabbed your uniform and headed to the bathroom.

Armin laid there in silence. “Stupid Jean always taking (Y/N) from me…. He takes up most of her time it drives me nuts!” He though to himself. “I feel like she doesn’t even give me the time of day anymore…. Have I been friend-zoned?” He curled up into a ball. “When she does talk to me she treats me like a kid.”

You came back from the bathroom and saw Armin curled up. You walked over to him and were about to comfort him but Jean stepped in the way.

“You ready?” He held out his arm for you to take.

“Oh uh yeah I’m ready…. I just wanted to make sure Armin was okay….”

Jean looked down at Armin. “He’s fine lets go!” He attempted to pull you away.

“I'll catch up with you Jean.” You replied dismissing him.

“But-“

“Jean I said I’ll catch up with you.” You repeated as you knelt down next to Armin.

Jean stormed off.

You rolled your eyes. “What a meathead…. Armin are you okay?” You asked as you stroked his hair.

He closed his eyes and melted as you touched his hair. “I’m better now that you’re here.” He muttered so you didn’t hear him.

“Hm? What did you say Armin?”

“I don’t feel too good.” He replied looking at you with his beautiful blue eyes.

You leaned over to take Armin's temperature and he could see right down your shirt, making his skin get hot. “Well, you are warm. Do you feel sick?” You asked as concern coated your voice.

“Hmmm, maybe I can milk this and have her attention all to myself today.” Armin thought to himself.

“My head is pounding and I have a stomach ache.” He replied in a quiet voice as he clutched his stomach with one hand and his head with the other.

“Well then lets get you some medicine.” You got up and went in your bag to grab herbs and your stone grinder. You lit a small fire to boil water for tea and started to grind the herbs as you sang in a soft voice.

Armin sat there completely entranced by you he loved to listen to you sing. He got lost watching you prepare the medicine. “Come on you dummy now is the perfect time to tell (Y/N) how you feel!” Armin thought to himself.

He went to speak but nothing came out.

You looked over at Armin. “Are you okay sweetie? You’re just starting off into space.” You spoke breaking Armin's thoughts.

“Y-yes I’m fine (Y/N).” He replied his cheeks were red.

You gave him a sweet smile. “The tea is almost ready. You should be feeling better soon!”

“(Y/N) you’re so talented if the Survey Corps didn’t have you as their medic we would be screwed.”

“Awe Armin thank you.” You blushed at the sweet compliment. “I’m thankful my parents were herbalists and passed their wisdom down to me.” You stirred the pot of tea.

“As long as I’ve known you (Y/N) you always had your hands in the dirt studying plants.”

“And if I remember correctly you were always by my side with your hands in the dirt with me studying the plants.” You stuck out your tongue.

“Just like you I love to learn new things.”

You smiled and nodded your head. “I love to learn new things with you, Armin….” Your cheeks turned pink.

“What do you mean?” He asked confused.

“Hm? Oh, n-nothing!”

“Shit, why did I say that?” You thought to yourself. “He doesn’t even get it I honestly don’t think he likes me how I like him.” You let out a sigh as you poured the tea.

“Here you go Armin I added some honey to make it sweet.” You handed him the cup.

“Thank you so much (Y/N)!” He smiled and took the tea. “It smells really good.” He said as he inhaled the steam.

You sat there with Armin enjoying his company.

He smiled at you. “Ahhh this is so nice, being able to spend time with you.”

“What do you mean Armin? We always spend time together.”

“Well yeah we do but it always seems to be interrupted by Jean or someone else….”

“Hey! (Y/N)!” Yelled Jean.

“Speak of the devil….” Muttered Armin.

“Hey Jean!” You waved at him.

“How’s little Armin feeling?” He asked sarcastically.

“A lot better thanks to (Y/N)’s medicine.” He answered back. “She's truly amazing.” He smiled at you.

“Well since you’re feeling better you wouldn’t mind if I borrowed her for a bit would you?” Jean asked as he tugged on your arm attempting to pull you away.

“I think I’m going to stay here with Armin.” You replied pulling your arm away.

“But I really need to talk to you.” Jean kept tugging on you.

You swatted his hand away. “Jean I said no! Now leave me alone!” You turned away dismissing him.

“What the fuck.” He muttered under his breath and stormed off.

“That idiot just doesn’t give up its so annoying sometimes.” You growled.

“But don’t you like the attention?” Armin asked.

“Not from him…. He’s not the guy I want attention from.” You sighed.

“Who do you want attention from?”

“W-well uh I-“

“Hey (Y/N)!” Yelled Eren as he came running over to you.

“Hey Eren! What’s up?”

“Levi needs to talk to you he’s in his office he said it’s important.”

“Oh okay!” You got up to leave.

Later that day you were going through Armin's stuff because you wanted something that smelled like him and you came across his journal. “Hm? Armin keeps a journal? Let’s see what secrets he keeps in here.” You opened the journal and started to look through the pages. You noticed the journal started the night you found Armin crying outside and most of the entries were about you. Your eyes widened as you read about all the naughty things he wanted to do to you.

“Sweet little Armin isn’t so innocent after all oh my goodness. He wants to tie me up and lick honey off my naked body?!” You kept scanning through the pages. “Oh this is a good one make love out in nature under the stars. Heh even when he is writing dirty things he still makes it sound romantic.” Your skin was getting hot and you were getting extremely turned on reading about what he wanted to do to you. “Ohhhhh Armin what am I going to do with you?” You laughed. “Well that was a rhetorical question….. I want to do everything to you.” You got up and went to go find him.

“Oh my sweet Armin I can’t wait to make you mine!” You made your way through the city, suddenly you were blindsided by someone and knocked to the ground. “What the hell!? Jean what are you doing!?” You tried to push him off of you but it was no use.

“(Y/N) you’re such a god damn tease!” He yelled as he ripped your shirt open. “Why? Why do you do this to me? You know I like you I’ve been trying so damn hard to make you my girl but no stupid Armin always gets in the way!” He kept shouting as he ripped your pants off.

“Jean! STOP! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO ME!?” You punched him in the face but it didn’t phase him in the least bit, he just grabbed your wrists and held you down. “Jean I don’t even like you like that! I’M IN LOVE WITH ARMIN! I HAVE BEEN SINCE I WAS A CHILD! I was just flirting with you to make him jealous!”

“NO! I’m in love with you!” He shouted back as he choked you. “No one can have you but me!”

You started to get light-headed. “J-Jean I-I c-can't b-breathe.” Your vision was getting blurry. Suddenly someone pulled Jean off of you. All you could make out was blonde hair before you passed out.

Armin tore Jean off of you. “How dare you put your hands on her like that! You disgusting pig!” Armin continuously punched him in the face. “If you ever so much as look in her direction.” He pulled his fist back. “I will tear you to shreds!” Armin punched him one final time knocking Jean unconscious.

Armin ran over to you. “(Y/N)! (Y/N)! Please wake up!” He shook you but you didn’t respond to him. He scooped you up and jumped into the window of a inn. Armin ran over to the door and put a chair against it to keep it locked. He came back over to you and put his head on your chest. “Well she’s still breathing thank goodness.” He sat there staring at your half naked body. “This is so unfair. She is literally being handed to me….” He felt his pants starting to get tight he reached out his trembling hand to grope your breast but he stopped himself. “But I know I’m friend-zoned….” He curled into a ball.

You started to wake up. “Armin?” You spoke in a quiet voice as you reached out your hand towards him.

“(Y/N)?” Armin looked down at you. “You’re okay!” He hugged you tightly.

“What happened? Last I remember Jean was trying…. Trying to…. To….” You shuddered as you recalled what Jean just tried to do to you and started to sob.

Armin pulled you in closer to him. “Shhhhh it’s okay stupid Jean won’t ever hurt you again (Y/N).” He ran his fingers through your soft (H/C) hair as he pulled you into his lap.

You turned about eight shades of red as you felt a bulge poke at your butt as he sat you on his lap. “Armin?” You looked at him as your skin got hot.

“Yes (Y/N)?” He replied. “Why are you so warm?”

“Armin I…. I….” You started.

“Yes?”

“I…. I…. Awe fuck it!” You yelled as you tackled Armin and kissed him.

Armin was momentarily taken aback and stunned by the sudden kiss. He pulled away, his face as red as a tomato. “(Y-Y/N-N) wh-what? B-but I…. I thought I was friend-zoned?”

You looked at him shocked. “Is that why you’ve been so distant? Awe Armin sweetie no you’re not friend-zoned at all.” You pushed him down onto the bed and straddled him. “In fact, it’s the exact opposite…. Armin….. I’m in love with you.” You leaned in and kissed his neck, a small moan escaped his lips. “I’ve been in love with you as long as I can remember Armin….”

“R-really?”

“Yes Armin really.” You repeated as you pressed your body closer to his. “And I found your journal…. You certainly write a lot about me….” You lightly nibbled his neck making Armin moan again.

“(Y-Y/N-N) wh-what are you doing?” He shuddered beneath you as you nibbled at his neck again.

“Oh don’t you play innocent with me Armin I know that you’re far from that.” You gave him a look as you gently grinded on him. “I know how much you want me.” You leaned in and kissed him again.

Armin trembled as he wrapped his arms around your neck pulling you in closer to him. He moaned against your lips as you bucked your hips against his growing bulge.

You took the opportunity and instantly invaded his mouth with your tongue kissing him deeply.

He wined as you quickened the motions. “(Y/N) it's, it's starting to hurt.”

You looked at him confused. “What is?”

He turned even redder. “My, my growing problem d-down there.”

“Awe sweetie do you want me to help you?” You cooed.

Armin bit his lip and nodded.

“Very well my love.” You got off of his lap and slowly pulled off just his pants. You crawled back up his body just to be tackled to the bed by him.

Armin rolled you onto your stomach and held your wrists as he started to hump you. Little whimpers escaped your lips as his length gently caressed your butt. He let go of your wrists and held onto your waist as he quickened the pace. “Am, am I doing a good job (Y/N)?” He asked shyly.

You moaned louder and nodded your head. “Ah-ahhhhh yes Armin you’re doing a g-great jobbbb!” You wined out as you gripped the blankets.

He leaned in and ran sweet little kisses down the back of your neck. “(Y/N) I love you so much…. I, I can’t believe this is really happening right now…. I’ve dreamt about this day for so long and finally, you’re mine.” He cooed. “How did I get so lucky? I finally get my sweet angel.” He reached down and unhooked your bra. He got off of you and rolled you back over to face him. His eyes grew wide in wonder as he removed your bra staring at your perfect body and breasts. “You truly are beautiful (Y/N).” He leaned in and kissed your neck slowly tracing your collarbone with his lips as he traveled down towards your breasts. He gazed at you his eyes filled with excitement as he gently rolled your nipple between his fingers while his mouth encircled your other nipple. He licked and nipped at your nipple as he grinded on you.

“Ah-ahhhhh A-Ar-Armin.” You wined out as his bulge rubbed against you. Your hips bucked wildly out of control every time he made contact, soaking your underwear.

He looked up at you with his beautiful blue eyes. “Yes (Y/N)?” He asked.

“Every little touch is driving me crazy Armin…. I…. I’m going mad right now…. Please Armin I…. I want you in the worst way….”

His eyes widened in shock as those words left your lips. “W-wa-wait are you saying what I-I think you’re saying (Y/N)? D-do you want me to, to take you?” He stammered looking at you shyly.

You blushed and nodded your head. “Yes Armin I am.”

He got off of you and sat on the bed.”Woah hold on a minute th-this is a big decision…. Are you absolutely sure.”

“Is it really Armin? By the way you write about me in your journal, it doesn’t seem that way…. Don’t you want to experience everything life has to offer?”

“I…. I…. I… well that’s writing in a journal I thought no one was going to find…. I never thought this was going to actually happen.”

“Armin.” You took his hands in yours. “It’s written all over your journal that you’re in love with me…. I have known you my entire life I have seen you at your worst I have seen you at your best…. I know you better than anyone else…. I was your friend before Eren and Mikasa knew you…. Armin, I’m in love with you also. I want to spend the rest of our lives together.” You leaned in and kissed his cheek.

He took a deep breath in. “I have no idea what I would even be doing….” He glanced between you and him a smile formed on his lips as he gazed at you. “But if you really want this then….” He pinned you to the bed and nipped at your neck, taking you by surprise. “I am willing to pleasure you my love.” He traced his lips down your torso showering your stomach in sweet kisses. He pulled down your underwear looking on in wonder. “Tell me what do you want me to do to you?”

“I-I want you to rub my clit.” You propped your legs on the bed and opened your lips with your fingers revealing your soaking wet core.

He took his fingers and massaged your clit making you squirt all over his hand. He continued to rub as he took is other hand and gently plunged a finger inside you.

“Ohhhhhh A-Arminnnn!” You moaned out as you gushed again, he pulled his finger out and innocently licked your juices off looking like a child licking cake batter.

He smiled at you before plunging face-first into you. He grabbed your hips and attacked your clit with his tongue as he pulled you in closer to him.

You gently gripped his soft hair, tugging on it with every flick of his tongue. Licking, sucking, nibbling Armin couldn’t get enough of your sweet taste he wanted to eat you up. You bucked your hips as you felt yourself gush into his mouth, Armin licked up every last drop.

He looked up at you and smiled. “Are you enjoying this my love?” He asked wanting reassurance.

“A-Armin.” You said panting. “Y-you're doing an amazing job.” You sat up and leaned in to kiss him. Locking lips you kissed him passionately as you lowered yourself onto his lap. You slowly started to move your hips rubbing your clit on his member, earning sweet little moans from Armin. You broke the kiss tracing your lips down his neck leaving love bites all over his collar bones. You made your way down his torso kissing right above his waistband. You locked eyes with Armin as you pulled down his underwear, revealing his rock hard member. Your smile grew wider as you gently took his length in your hand, little whimpers of excitement escaped Armin's lips as you ran your hands up and down his shaft.

“O-oh-ohhhhhhh (Y-Y/N-N) this f-feels even b-better t-th-than I ever i-im-imagined!” He tilted his head back as he moaned louder and louder.

You lowered your mouth to his pulsing length wrapping your lips around it, ever so lightly licking the precum off his tip. Slowly you started to suck running your tongue along his shaft.

He gently tugged at your hair as he watched your head bob up and down, his hips bucking with every lick. “Ahhhh (Y/N) I’m going to….. I’m going to c-cu-cummmmm!” He moaned as you took his length in its entirety down your throat he released his seed, but you didn’t stop sucking and almost instantly he became hard again.

You released yourself from him. “Let’s get back on the bed where it’s more comfortable.” You helped Armin up and tackled him to the bed, grinding on him making yourself squirt everywhere. You continued to rub your soaking slit all over his size, driving him crazy. “A-are you ready my sweet Armin?”

He looked at you shyly. “Yes, I am.”

You shifted your hips and positioned yourself right at his tip, you leaned in kissing him as you slid down on his member. You yelped into his mouth as you felt a pop.

Armin broke the kiss. “Are you okay?” He asked his voice drenched in concern.

You smiled at him and nodded. “Yes, I am perfectly fine my love.” You leaned in kissing him again as you rocked your hips back and forth. You held onto his shoulders as you quickened the pace, feeling him go deeper and deeper with every thrust. “Ohhhh A-Ar-Aminnnnn j-just like that oh my-my God!” You screamed out.

Armin was in complete sync with you, every time you came down he thrusted into you. “Ohhhhh (Y-Y/N-N)!” He moaned out as he grabbed your butt spreading your cheeks to go deeper into you. Soon he was pounding you wildly. He couldn’t get enough of you as he ran his hands over every inch of your body, caressing your soft skin. He looked at you with amazement as he watched you ride him. “I-I still can’t believe this is-is really h-happening.” He smiled at you.

“Ar-Armin I’m, I’m go-going to cummmmm!” You arched your back as your walls clenched around Armin's length releasing yourself. Toes curling, hips bucking you rode out your first orgasm.

“(Y/N)? Can we try another position?” He asked shyly his cheeks turning bright red. “I-I want to be in control.”

“Of course my love” You got off and stood in front of him.

He gazed at you completely captivated by your beauty. “My, my, my you are a sight to behold my beautiful (Y/N).” Getting up from the bed he walked over to you, he tugged your waist as he pulled you in kissing you deeply. His hands made their way down your torso, gently he cupped your butt as he pressed his length against you, sweet whimpers escaping your lips. His tongue danced with yours as he backed you into a wall. He soon broke the kiss, trailing his lips down your neck, between your breasts down to your soaking core. He got on his knees. “Wrap your legs around my shoulders…. I want to try something.”

“But how is this going to work?”

He placed his hands on your butt for support. “Trust me it will.” He pushed you into the wall more as you lifted one leg over his shoulder than the other one. He adjusted accordingly to make sure you were stable on his shoulders. Armin brought one of his hands forward and spread your lips so he could dive back into your core. He ate you up like a hungry animal, licking every bit of your juices.

Your body shook as Armin swirled his tongue around your clit. “A-ahhhhh Ar-Arminnnnn!” You grabbed his hair, pushing his face into you more as you gushed into his mouth. Slowly he inserted two fingers moving them in and out of you. He quickened the pace as he nibbled on your clit rendering you a drooling mess as your walls clenched around his fingers, earning another orgasm from you.

He came up and lifted you off his shoulders, but kept you pinned to the wall. He pressed himself closer to you as he raised you up again, you wrapped your legs around his waist. Instantly his member slipped back inside you, moaning out he thrusted into you. “I love you so much(Y/N)!” He roared as he pounded deeper and deeper in you.

“I-I l-love you toooooo Armin!” You howled as you bounced wildly with every thrust. You grabbed his head attacking his lips kissing him deeply as he went faster. You moaned into his mouth as you gushed again soaking the floor below you.

Armin broke the kiss looking at you his cheeks were bright red. “(Y-Y/N-N) I’m, I’m going to c-cu-cum a-again.” He pulled out barely in time his seed exploding all over your stomach.

Panting heavily the two of you collapsed on the floor wrapped up in each other’s arms. You smiled at Armin and pulled him in for a long sweet kiss.

He broke the kiss. “(Y/N) t-that was a-amazing!” He said as he nuzzled into your neck.

You sat there playing with his soaking wet hair. “Mhmmmmm it truly was amazing Armin.”

[yoonjinkooked]

Kitchen Confidential | Jin | FINAL

Pairing: Seokjin / Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Enemies to lovers, chef AU

Warnings: explicit sex, cursing, no longer a slow burn ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), unprotected sex (don’t do that), traces of a biting kink, oral (f receiving), short handjob, feelings. A LOT of mentions of food, so you’ll most likely be very hungry for both food and Kim Seokjin. 

Word Count: 9k+, previous chapters total to 16k

Summary: After years of annoying the life out of you, your rival, Kim Seokjin, pushes you a step too far and he knows it. As angry and resentful as you are, you don’t realize that something has been brewing under the surface for years. This weekend, that will change.

Read previous parts here: 1  /  2  /  3  

SPINOFF ANNOUNCEMENT: COMING SOON, JUNGKOOK’S STORY IN THE SAME UNIVERSE AS KITCHEN CONFIDENTIAL

A/N: And it’s done! This one took a while but I’m proud of myself for finishing this fic. I’m more responsible with my writing each day, and that includes actually finishing the stories I start. I have a few ongoing ones and a few wips that I am yet to post but Jungkook’s spinoff will come soon. If all goes according to plan, I will have about...20ish fics in 2021? So, let’s hope all DOES go according to plan. Thank you for following through with this story. Let me know what you think! 

Yesterday was something else entirely.

You may or may not have called Jungkook more than ten times. Of course, you had complete faith in him and deep down, you knew he was more than capable of running the kitchen without you but it didn’t hurt to check, did it? So you did. Ten times, before he threatened to block your number, which then had you dialing Namjoon. You had reassured him that your leg is perfectly fine and that you are perfectly capable of standing through service for one night. He insisted that you should rest and that they have everything under control. Which you believed, you really did but you still wanted to check. You’ve stopped calling when he threatened to fire you.

Today was a different story. With no news of a fire breaking out in Bonsai’s kitchen, you were noticeably more relaxed, ready to spend the entire day with your leg propped on a pillow, a tube of ice cream in your hands while rewatching the first season of The Office. All was going according to plan by the time the doorbell rang.

Looking at the clock, you see that it is only 7PM - Bonsai was still open, probably ready for dinner rush hour. It couldn’t be Jungkook and he is quite literally the only person who drops by unannounced whenever he pleases. Did you order food and had a memory blank? You were going to order the house specialty from that new fancy Italian place at the other side of town, just to keep an eye on competition. But did you actually order it? Or are you going crazy?

The doorbell rings again and begrudgingly, you start getting up. “Coming!” you yell, grabbing your wallet as you go, wondering if you even have enough spare change for a tip. No longer wobbling, you simply walk slowly and unlock the door, your jaw dropping when you open it.

On the other side of the door, with a goofy smile on his face and his hands full of paper shopping bags is no one other than Kim Seokjin himself.

“Hi,” he offers a greeting and you could swear you see nerves hiding behind the smile - sure enough, when you stay silent for a second too long, still too confused to speak, you see the tip of his ears turning red. That always used to happen whenever one of the teachers at culinary school was about to taste his dish in front of the entire class. And you probably shouldn’t be aware of that.

“Um… to what do I owe the pleasure?” you ask, once you can finally speak.

“I took a day off,” he announces, as if that is the only explanation you need. “I figured since you’re still officially on sick leave and your leg must hurt, you probably don’t want to cook,” he trails off, his ears now becoming redder. “I guess I just wanted to do something nice.”

“You want to make me dinner?” you check if you heard him correctly. This entire situation seems like a figment of your imagination, a very bizarre one at that. And you don’t even want to know how he knew where you live - that can of worms is not going to be opened.

“Yeah,” he nods proudly. “I mean, I’ll eat too, if you let me,” he jokes and when you stay silent, the smile slowly melts from his face. Realizing that you are leaving him hanging, you step aside to let him in.

“Come on in, the kitchen is the second door on the right,” you inform him and watch, still in a state of shock, as he takes off his shoes in the hallway before making his way down the hallway. That’s when you finally snap out of it, realizing that you won’t have enough time to process this as it’s happening. “What are we making?” you ask as you follow him into the kitchen.

“We are not making anything,” he emphasised as he sets the bags down on the kitchen island, before turning to face you with a stern expression, which instantly makes you feel like a scolded child. “I will be doing all the work as you sit back, relax and have a glass of wine. Unless you’re taking meds for your leg? I didn’t think of that,” he mumbles softly, frowning at the ground.

“No meds,” you inform him. His solemn expression turns bright so fast, you think you might be experiencing whiplash. What the fuck is going on here?! “What are you making?”

“I was wondering what would make an enjoyable, hearty meal that could speed up your recovery process,” he starts explaining. You want to tell him that a leg injury can’t be cured with food but you bite your tongue, not wanting to appear hostile, especially not when he’s in the middle of his grand gesture. You watch as he starts taking the ingredients out of the shopper bags - not one, but two bottles of Pinot Noir, the expensive kind too, followed by mushrooms, a whole bunch of veggies and one gigantic chunk of meat. It’s wrapped, but judging by his choice of wine, it has to be beef.

“You’re making beef stew?” you guess, surprised but not disappointed by his choice of dish. He, on the other hand, seems offended.

“What do you take me for?” he asks, very obviously exaggerating his reaction. “I’m a trained chef, Y/N. I’m making beef bourguignon.”

“Which is just a slightly fancier version of a beef stew,” you laugh, using humour to avoid thinking about the cook and prep time of beef bourguignon - at the very least three hours, even more if you want to Julia Child it and let it simmer properly. More than three hours with Kim Seokjin, in a row, without anyone around to hide behind? “Sounds good!” you lie, trying to look excited because you truly don’t want to ruin something that just seems like a nice gesture.

“Perfect!” he beams at you. “Now, where do you keep your chopping boards?”

No, you don’t have the time to think about it, not while it’s literally ongoing. You shake your head and decide to roll with the punches. “I want to help you, though. I can’t just sit here and let you do all the work. Not to mention how wrong it feels to have someone cooking in my kitchen,” you add, realizing that no one other than yourself ever cooked here - no one, ever.

“The cupboard under the sink,” you tell him as you sit down drag a chair towards the kitchen island, worried about the predicament you are in. First, the feelings, the ones you have shamelessly pushed under the rug and had refused to acknowledge. They have blindsided you and you can’t even properly define and understand him and now he is here, in your apartment, your kitchen, making dinner.

Not to mention that you aren’t exactly wearing your Sunday best. He’s all jeans and an elegant blue sweater, while you’re in mis-matched sweatpants and sweatshirt, which are both a size or two too big for you. Your hair is a mess and frankly, you can’t even recall if you’d washed your face this morning. You are a mess, both physically and emotionally and he has cornered you, most likely without even realizing it.

“In that case, you can peel and chop,” he starts laughing at your exasperated expression. “Come on, don’t look at me like that - I’m trying to do something nice here. The point is for you to relax and enjoy a good meal, a meal that someone else has cooked for you. And if you do insist on helping, then you can peel and chop.”

There’s a lump in your throat and you think you know why. It’s the feelings, they’re making you feel touched by his actions. He is spending his day off here, doing something nice for you, on his own free will? Just a week ago, all of this would have been a major red flag. And now it’s just something that makes you feel thankful, giddy even.

“Give me my peeler then,” you say, holding the palm of your hand open, waiting.

He smirks at you, shaking his head with what looks like disbelief and you smirk back, unable to stop yourself. The not so subtle stare off between you isn’t uncomfortable. It’s miles away from the feeling you had over the weekend, when you were straight up avoiding making direct eye contact with him. This time, you’re keeping it up, smiling when he is the one who breaks. He turns around and opens one of the drawers, finding the peeler on the first try before leaning over the island and handing it to you with a smirk still present on his face.

“Let’s start working, chef.”

The decision to slow down with the wine after your first glass was a good one. Not only is the wine one of the best ones you’ve tasted in a while, you also wanted to keep a clear head. Alcohol tends to greatly weaken your brain to mouth filter and that can’t happen when you’re one on one with Seokjin. You don’t want to ruin the evening. 

It felt as if he was the same Seokjin he was back when you first started school. The interesting, charming guy with a good sense of humor. He can still act over the top, which he did, but he was more toned down than usual. Is usual even the right word? It’s not, not when you don’t have much to compare it to. This is the first time the two of you have been alone for more than a few minutes, simply talking and enjoying the conversation. 

“You can’t be serious,” Seokjin laughs, putting one of the plates that he was washing back in the sink to turn around and give you a doubtful look. “You mean outside the subway, right?” 

“Nope, it was below ground, right around the corner from the trains,” you confirm, remembering that day clearly. “I remember that I was starving, so maybe that’s why the croissant was so good. It was cheap, on a Parisian subway and it still is my favorite food memory from Paris.”

“You’re picking that subway croissant over… ratatouille or bouillabaisse?” 

“I said favorite, not the most delicious one,” you point out with a laugh. “Travelling and eating go hand in hand, at least to me. Wherever I went, I’ve made a point to spend a good amount of my budget just on food. I’d go where the locals go, try food I didn’t recognize… Honestly, I miss that. I’m limited to one vacation a year and it’s usually just one destination.”

“I get that,” he tells you as he continues washing the dishes, which he insisted to do, despite your multiple offers to at least cover the clean up part of the evening. “A good friend of mine lives in Greece, owns an amazing restaurant. I’ve gone there for the past three years and don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, I live for Greek food. But I want to explore more, you know?” 

“That’s very relatable,” you sigh, suddenly feeling a little bit regretful. “I’ve been to Italy, Japan, France numerous times, had the most amazing experiences but there are so many other places waiting to be discovered and I just play it safe. I want to go somewhere and try… I don’t know, all the weird stuff that sounds unappetizing but is actually the local specialty. I’m a bit tired of the classic dishes that end up on our menus and comfort food.”

“What’s your favorite comfort food?” Seokjin asks you, as he finally wraps up his work and joins you, sitting across the island and reaching for his own glass of wine as you try to think of an answer. Comfort food by taste or comfort food by memory? 

“I have to go with potatoes.” 

He chokes on his drink, making you laugh at his reaction. Once again, you are met with a look of disbelief. “Are you kidding me? Potatoes? Out of all the food in the world?”

“You said comfort food, not favorite food,” you remind him with a grin. “And yeah, it’s potatoes. They’re so simple and versatile and you can do whatever the hell you want with them. When I was a kid, my mom used to make me and my brother these stuffed, roasted potatoes. I don’t even know the ingredients honestly, I’ve never tried making them myself like that. To get that original comfort food taste, it has to be made by my mom. No one else.” 

“I’m a professional chef and I still fully acknowledge that I’m nowhere near as good as my mom is,” Seokjin’s admission makes you laugh but you understand it fully. “She used to make the most amazing mac and cheese. Unlike you, I did try to recreate it - I followed her recipe to a T and still ended up with a sad imitation. Nothing ever beats the food you grew up eating.”

“Are you close to your family?” you ask and regret it immediately, wondering if that is too much, if you’re asking questions you have no business knowing answers to. You’ve known Seokjin for years but you could hardly call him a friend when you know so little about him. 

“Yeah, I’d say so,” he nods, not even hesitating to share information about his personal life. “I visit them often and I try to go fishing with my brother as much as I can. What about you?” 

“As close as we can be,” you shrug, reaching for your wine. “You know what our working hours are like and as much as I want to drive and see them on the weekends, I often just can’t. And my brother lives abroad with his wife and kids, so we rarely see each other. We facetime often, though. His kids are already starting school next year.” 

“I have a niece,” Seokjin smiles with that cute, content smile that now feels familiar. You wait as he pulls out his phone, turning it to proudly show off the photo he selected - it’s him with a child in his arms, a little girl with the cutest face, big smile and tiny little pigtails. She can’t be more than three years old and she looks so happy to be held by her uncle. 

“Oh, she is so cute! She adores you, doesn’t she?” the words leave your mouth before you can stop them. 

“I think she loves me more than her parents,” he admits, breaking into a fit of laughter. “She doesn’t let go of me, which I don’t mind, I adore the kid, but she just fuels my mother’s need for more grandchildren and when she clings to me… well…” 

“Oh, I know,” you wave your hand. “Mine have two grandchildren and not a single reunion passes without them wondering when I’m going to reproduce.” They mean well, you know that and you don’t hold it against them. There are just times when they make you feel like you’re not doing a good enough job with the life they’ve given you, just because you haven’t had kids yet. Yes, they mean well but that’s not something you often want to hear.  

“Do you want kids?” he asks. It should feel weird, it really should, talking about these things with him. It’s personal, too personal even, but you feel so at ease around him tonight, you can’t be bothered to care. It doesn’t feel wrong, not in the slightest. 

“One day, yeah,” you shrug, seeing as this wasn’t something you thought about often. When you’re single and haven’t had a serious relationship in years, kids are on the back burner. “What about you? I don’t know why, but I never pegged you for a parental type.”

“You don’t know me very well then,” he laughs and the way he does it is so… cheeky and teasing. If anyone else was sitting here with you right now, you would swear on your life that they were flirting. Without a doubt, the teasing smile and raised eyebrow would make your mind go in that direction. Seeing as this is Seokjin, you can’t be too sure. It goes against everything he has ever said and done. But like a curse, Jungkook’s words come back to haunt you again. Would it be so weird to think that he likes you? He is here, after all. 

“You’re right,” you nod as you put down your glass. “I don’t know you very well, do I?” he seems surprised at your question, even going so far as to look uncomfortable. Only for a second, before he offers you a smile. 

“What would you like to know?” 

“Why are you here?” you ask. It wasn’t what you were planning on asking, not by a long shot. You wanted to ask stupid questions, to find out what his favorite movies are, what’s his most embarrassing memory - the things you know about your friends. A game of 20 questions was what you had in mind when pointing out that you don’t really know a lot about him but when the opportunity presented itself, your self control had other plans. And seriously - why is he here? 

Seokjin blinks a couple of times, seemingly needing time to process your question and think of a decent answer. “I wanted to do something nice,” he shrugs, giving you the same excuse that he had given earlier. You didn’t doubt it much then but now you’ve started wondering. “We’ve decided to start over and I… wanted to extend an olive branch.”

It makes perfect sense and you don’t believe a single word of it. “Why are you really here?” you push, following your instinct. Said instinct might be affected by the feelings but it’s there. And if there is one thing you’ve learned in life, it’s to follow your gut feeling - always. 

Seokjin chuckles nervously and lo and behold, his ears give him away. “Do you think there’s an ulterior motive here?” he asks, shaking his head. He’s a decent actor, but not nearly as good as he thinks he is. He’s way too defensive for someone with no ulterior motives. “I didn’t poison the beef bourguignon, if that’s what you’re aiming at,” he adds, pointing back at the stove, where your dinner has been slowly simmering for about an hour now. 

“No, I don’t think you’re trying to poison me,” you chuckle, shaking your head, wondering if you should just stop talking and drop the whole thing entirely. “I thought that… You know what? Never mind,” you decide, knowing that some questions are perhaps better left unanswered. “Tell me, what’s your favorite TV show? Are you a binger or a once a week type of guy?” 

“Y/N, you don’t get to change topics on me like that,” Seokjin looks serious now, refusing to break eye contact. You struggle to not look away, knowing that you have pushed it too far and now you’re unable to backtrack. He won’t let you. “What did you think?” he asks. 

What’s the worst thing that could happen if you answer truthfully? He could laugh at you and that’s pretty much it. And if he does start laughing, you can play it off and join in on the joke. And if he pulls the ultimate dick move and tells your mutual friends about it, you can always deny. 

“The things that happened over the weekend had made me wonder,” you tell him, deciding to leave out the part when Jungkook opened your eyes to this possibility. “Some of the things that you’ve said kind of got my wheels spinning, you know?” you ask. As he swallows a lump, still not looking away from you, you decide to rip off the bandaid and throw your theory out. “Call me crazy and feel free to laugh and tell me I’m a fool but… Seokjin… do you like me?” 

Zero emotions are shown on his face. It’s the most perfect poker face that you have ever seen - exposed forehead, full lips and all. Self confidence was never a strong suit of yours, except in the kitchen of course, but you know better than to try and backtrack now. Seconds ago, it was still salvageable. Now, you’ve said it and it’s out in the open. You were either right or wrong. 

You wait, not backing away from the nth stare down of the night. You wait, letting him have his time to prepare an answer, whether it’s the truth or a lie. If your suspicions weren’t correct, wouldn’t he have already said something? 

“What gave me away?” 

And there it is. Jungkook was right and you were blind. How are you supposed to feel now? Relieved? Worried? Panicked? Amused? None of those make sense, nor do they describe the way you are feeling now. With Seokjin looking at you as if he has finally given up, finally surrendered, the only emotion that you can single out with clarity is curiosity. 

“Wow. I mean, I wasn’t sure, I half expected you to laugh mockingly or something,” you admit, finally looking away and shaking your head, as if that’s supposed to get your thoughts in order. “The other night, when you said that you just did it to make me laugh… I thought, maybe…” 

Lies. Jungkook figured it out, and even then, you refused to believe. Even now, you’re still expecting Seokjin to start laughing, claiming that he had pulled off the ultimate prank. He doesn’t - in fact, he looks more serious than you’ve ever seen him. 

“Makes sense,” he lets out a dark chuckle. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Or pissed at myself. I’ve said too much, I’ve set myself up,” the way he runs a hand through his hair, with that solemn look on his face makes him look… hot. Like, really hot. “But at least it’s out in the open, right? Now you know.” 

“Wait,” you raise a hand. “I have no idea what you’re trying to say. Like… since when? How? Why? I… I don’t get it.” 

“Since when?” he laughs. Now you’re borderline worried, the guy looks like he’s going to experience a mental breakdown any second now. “Pretty much for as long as we’ve known each other. I know, shocking,” he adds, seeing how your eyes had widened when you heard his answer. “To think how I thought that I was obvious.” 

“Oh no, you weren’t,” you sit up straighter, your voice raised up a notch. “You were anything but, Seokjin. I thought you despised me! That I was your arch nemesis or some shit like that.” 

“Well, maybe I wasn’t obvious to you but I was to others, I’m damn sure all of Catnip knows by now,” he tells you and he looks as if he is calming himself down. His voice is lower and he’s no longer making eye contact, but staring at the island between you. “What I said was true, I did do it to make you laugh and somewhere along the way, I’ve pissed you off, so much so that you went on thinking that I hated you. Which I don’t, by the way. Never have.” 

“You… you are a horrible flirt, you know that, right?” is all you can say now, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that the man had a crush on you for years. This time when he laughs, it’s not the dark tone that his laughter had just moments ago. This time around, his laughter is very much genuine, but it also dies down fast. 

“I’m very much aware of that,” he confirms, finally looking your way again. There’s not a trace of positive emotion on his face. It’s as if he has completely given up on this conversation ending with a positive outcome. You can’t blame them for that - given the questioning that you’re putting him through and your history together - if you were in his shoes, you’d also see this as an uncomfortable rejection conversation. 

Is it, though? It would be, if it weren’t for the feelings. They’re there. You have no fucking clue what they are, much less what they mean but they are there and you can’t ignore their existence any longer. They remind you that once upon a time, he really did make you laugh. That this whole dumb rivalry made you want to work harder and be better, even if it was for the petty reason of simply being better than him. The feelings remind you that you did always consider him attractive, that that stupid smile that he has when he’s truly happy and content does things to you. The feelings remind you that you can recognize the tell-tale signs of his embarrassment. You might not know him well, every line and crevice, every positive and negative but you still know more than you had originally thought. And you want to know more. 

“Why?” you ask, knowing you won’t have a peace of mind until you know, even if asking such questions might make him feel uncomfortable. “Why me? I just… I don’t get it.” 

“Neither do I,” he answers immediately, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t have a big reason behind it or a particular moment when I realized. Liking you was instant. Of course, it didn’t develop into something… deeper straight away. That part lasted years, but it was impossible not to like you, Y/N. We’re chefs. We make food, that’s our job - our job is to take food and cook it, presented in a visually appealing manner and charge for it more than we should. And you take such a simple, almost meaningless thing and turn it into an art form.” 

Although touching and meaningful, his words confuse the life out of you. “You like me because I’m a good chef?” you ask, wondering if you’ve missed something. 

“I like you because of the dedication you give to it,” he elaborates. “That stupid excercise that we did the other day didn’t let me do you justice. The look on your face that you’ve had on that first day remains the same now, whenever I see you taking the simplest ingredients and turning them into art. I have admired that and it’s one of the reasons why my eyes would look for you every damn time we were in that test kitchen. You were there and so focused, so beautiful and so damn good at what you did. And smart, funny, a good leader and a good friend. It also didn’t hurt that you look damn hot when you’re focused on something.” 

The last part he adds, almost like an afterthought and it makes you laugh. He laughs too, when you make eye contact. The feelings have gone haywire. You officially have no control of them because the things that he has said about you, you recognized in him as well, at one point or another. He is so good at what he does, dedicated and driven, while also being a good leader and from what you’ve seen, an awesome friend. To others he was funny - to you, he was a pain in the ass that just so happened to look damn hot when he was focused on something. 

“I don’t know what to say,” you admit when you start feeling as if the silence is lasting too long. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he waves his hand, dismissing your suggestion and once again, confusing the hell out of you. “It’s out in the open and now you know why I was an idiot for all those years. I meant what I said when I told you that I wanted us to start fresh and be friendly with one another. I’m a big boy, I know that what’s not meant to be is not meant to be.” 

“No, you’re not,” you shake your head, amused at the confusion etched on his face. “You are childish and often petty and honestly, at times you are the most insufferable being on this planet and I can’t even begin to describe how confusing it is that I find that endearing.” 

As you listed all the things he is, you watched as his face fell, but you didn’t have a chance to feel bad about it, not when you know that despite all of that, he’s still a good guy. He’s still Seokjin, with all his quirks and insufferable moments. And as much as you might want to deny it, you like him. You really do like him. 

“Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t always endearing - in fact, more often than not, you were a real pain in the ass. You’re not a big boy who can handle rejection well and I don’t want to see you handle it. I don’t want to watch you struggle to get over this crush of yours for weeks, months even. I also don’t want to watch you finding it easy to get over it, completely forgetting all about it in a matter of days,” you tell him and you’re not even sure if the words make sense but they go out of your mouth and into his ears, making his eyes go wide. 

“Y/N, what are you trying to say?” 

“I have no fucking clue,” you shrug, getting up from your chair. “I didn’t have enough time to process any of this. Just minutes ago, I thought there’s no way in hell that you’re that dumb to pull a third grader flirting technique,” you keep talking as you walk over to him, watching him as he turns to face you, slightly alarmed by your sudden proximity, even if there’s a good two feet between you. “I’m not fully aware of what I’m saying, or feeling for that matter, but I do know that I am feeling something. Don’t ask me to define it, cause I can’t, not in this mindfuck of a plot twist that my life did not prepare me for. I just know that I want to test something out.” 

“Test? Test out what?” he asks as you take the final step to close the gap between you. 

“This,” is all you tell him as you grab a hold of his cute blue sweater and pull him closer, not wasting a single second before you press your lips to his. Neither of you moves for a moment or two, he out of shock and you out of pure confusion because why the hell are you kissing Kim Seokjin?! A few seconds pass and it’s he who starts moving, bringing life into your dead kiss. And the moment he does, you feel it in the pit of your stomach that there is nothing, absolutely nothing wrong about this. When he puts his hands on your sides, you let yours move from where they were clutching onto his sweater up and around his neck, pulling him down, closer to you. The strands of hair that reach the nape of his neck feel like silk under your fingers and when you feel his tongue graze your bottom lip, you softly gasp. 

That makes him pull away - that little gasp of yours seems like a wake-up call for him because he is pulling away, his eyes wide, making him look as if he thinks he is imagining all of this. He looks shocked but he is not letting go of you and your hands are still locked behind his neck. 

“Kissing you is good,” you conclude. “I want to keep doing that.” 

“Zero complaints here,” is all he says before he stands up and kisses you again. Without breaking the kiss, he twists your hips to the side, making you lean back on the island, the edge of the surface pressing into your back as he essentially cages you. 

It’s funny, how many things about him you never really realized. For example, how tall he actually is and how much he has to bend down in order to kiss you, which he does, diligently. You also have never noticed how clear his skin is, not until your fingers grazed his cheeks softly. He was in front of you, right in front of you, all these years and until tonight, he was nothing more than an annoying guy with a good face. How wrong you were… 

“Of course, you’re a good kisser too,” he sighs as he breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead on yours, his eyes still closed. “Are you an overachiever in every aspect of your life?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you tease, chuckling when he backs away, startled. 

“That’s not… I wasn’t trying to insinuate something,” he defends himself immediately. 

“But I am,” you giggle at the way his eyes widen. You can’t blame him - this night has made you go from zero to sixty in no time. That realization does make you nervous but you’ve already decided to push it back and just do whatever it is that you want to do. “I’m telling you, I don’t want to think or define. We can deal with that later. Now, I just want… you.” 

Seokjin takes a second, gulping, looking at you as if he is waiting for you to laugh in his face or take the offer back. When he stays silent for what you deem as a bit too long, you smile softly at him and drag your thumb across his bottom lip - it’s so soft and inviting, already red from the kisses that you’ve shared. You want him and he needs to stop second guessing that. 

Whatever it is that he was looking for on your face, he seems to have found it because he’s suddenly kissing you again, with a lot more ferocity than he did just moments ago. That was a kiss, a first kiss, a getting-to-know-what-this-feels-like kiss - this is a kiss. Hands digging into your skin, tongue driving you crazy with gasps and heavy breathing kind of kiss. 

You are the one who pulls away but you stay silent, taking his hand into yours and leading him towards the door. A silent moment is exchanged when he looks at the stove, where your dinner is still cooking, then back to you. Beef bourguignon takes hours to make and given the years of expertise between the two of you, you’re comfortable with leaving the stove on. So you laugh and he does too, before you pull him into the hallway. 

Along the way, you kiss, hit a few walls and your sweatshirt is left discarded on the floor - you don’t have time for another freakout at how ridiculously unprepared you are for this because the way he looks at you kills the little insecurities that haunt you. His eyes scan over any area of skin that they can see while his fingers slide over the very edge of your bra, tickling the skin they graze. Goosebumps cover your skin and you all but slam him into your bedroom door. 

“Woah,” he laughs. “Never thought you were this impatient.” 

“I’m usually not,” you admit with a shrug. 

“I’m not complaining,” he laughs as the two of you waddle towards the bed, still pressed to one another. You smile as you push him gently onto the bed. He looks up at you, mouth open and eyebrows raised. “Oh, I am not complaining at all!” 

Smiling, you straddle his lap and pause for a second, taking a moment to get used to what’s happening. Unlike you, he is patient - he simply looks at you, a strange mix of awe and giddiness written on his face. His hands are glued to your hips and he runs his thumbs in circles, gently. It looks as if he’s relishing the moment and letting you take the lead in what’ll happen next. “This is really happening, isn’t it?” you ask, your chest filling with pride when he shows you that signature smile of his, the one that causes a ruckus among the butterflies in your stomach. 

“I think it is,” he leans closer to you, connecting his lips to your neck and that one, simple action is enough to make you realize that if he’s down, you’ll be more than happy to take it all the way tonight. Neck kisses are a universal weakness and you’re gladly going to let him use it to his advantage. “If this ends up being a wet dream of mine, I’m going to be so pissed when I wake up,” he admits before nipping at your skin, an action that elicits a whole new wave of horniness to take over you. Neck kisses are bad enough - neck bites will be your downfall. 

“If it is a wet dream, come and find me when you wake up and tell me what you’ve told me tonight. Then we’ll see what we can do about it,” you joke, laughing even harder when he grabs a hold of you and moves you down on the bed. This is the first sign of initiative that he has shown so far and you are not complaining. It’s your turn now to gulp as he hovers above you, looking down at your body like he is seconds away from eating you alive. 

“I thought you were hot before but I never thought you were hiding all of this under your clothes,” he tells you as he pulls down on the straps of your bra - at least your underwear is a matching black set, if the rest of you is a mess. Lifting your back from the bed, you help him take the fabric off and he grins up at you once your boobs are out in the open. “Chef’s uniforms really didn’t do your boobs justice.” 

“You’ve seen me in casual clothes plenty of times,” you laugh at his antics. He’s known you for years, there’s no way he didn’t catch a good view of your cleavage in all that time. 

“Not nearly as often as I should have,” he mumbles and before you have a chance to talk back, he leaves you speechless as he attaches his mouth to you, immediately giving your nipple a gentle bite. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, you do your best to stay silent - there’s no way in hell Seokjin won’t be cocky about this later and you don’t want to give him too much material to work with right off the bat. 

It doesn’t take long for you to realize that one of the hottest things about being with Seokjin like this is simply seeing Seokjin like this. There is just something so inherently hot about the way his eyes close as rolls his tongue across your nipple. He makes the sight even hotter than the action itself, especially when he reaches for your other breast, gently playing with it as he pleases. Simple actions like that are already driving you nuts and you can only worry about what’s to come later. And it gets worse - turned on by the sight, you reach for him, moving the hair away from his eyes and the second you two make eye contact, a moan leaves you - a loud, shameless one at that. You could swear his eyes twinkled then and there. 

“Please tell me you have a condom,” he starts kissing down your body. 

“If you’re clean, you don’t need it. I’m clean and on the pill.” 

He suddenly stops kissing you, choosing to laugh instead. “You’re telling me that a week ago you could barely stand being in the same room with me and now you’re letting me sleep with you without a condom?” 

“I mean...” you shrug, joining in on his laughter. “I’m sure stranger things have happened.” 

“Not to me they haven’t,” he jokes, before immediately turning serious. “Are you sure you want this? I really don’t want you to regret it,” he admits. 

“The only thing I’m going to regret is letting you take the lead because you’re taking too long and you’re still in your clothes.” 

“Easy,” he laughs as he hooks his fingers past the waistband of your sweatpants and slowly starts pulling them down, leaving your underwear in place. “Eat what makes you happy, they say,” he says and you roll your eyes. Of course, leave it to Seokjin to think pussy. 

“They also say don’t play with your food,” you playfully remind him as you kick off the pants. He doesn’t laugh - instead, he reaches for your leg and softly caresses it. 

“Is your leg going to be okay?” he asks and if you weren’t whipped beyond belief before, you are now. Even you have managed to completely forget about your injury but he hasn't. Even now, Seokjin finds ways to prove you wrong and show how thoughtful he actually is. 

You simply nod and that’s confirmation enough for him. His hand trails up and on the inside of your thigh pausing before touching your wet underwear. He gives you a questioning look, not touching you until you confirm that that’s what you want. You nod quickly and in a matter of seconds, the last of your clothes is on the floor, and Seokjin is diving right in. 

Despite complaining that he’s taking too long, you realize that he’s not the one to tease - at least not tonight. His mouth connects with your clit almost immediately and it’s enough to make you moan again. He licks, sucks and grazes his teeth against it, letting you hold onto his hair like your life depends on it. He’s good, which makes perfect sense because leave it to Kim Seokjin to give you the best oral sex of your entire life. You won’t tell him - not now, perhaps not ever, cause he doesn’t need that to get into his head too, but good lord is he good. 

“Can I?” he asks, tracing his finger across your opening. 

“Seokjin, at this point you can do whatever the fuck you want,” you laugh, a laugh that turns into a moan when he sinks his finger in, curving it up immediately and making you arch your back. 

“Is this good?” he asks and the feelings go berserk again. In your mind, it can’t get any better than a man that actually pays attention to what his lover enjoys. 

“More than,” you moan as he adds another finger and effectively ends your conversation. He is driving you crazy - something that you’ve noticed before, when you side eyed his chopping skills years ago, is how he has beautiful hands with long, almost elegant fingers. Never did you think that those fingers would be inside you, making you count your blessings and struggle to not moan out his name. A struggle that you have lost when he puts a third finger to use. 

You want more - as amazing as it is, you want more. You want to kiss him, to feel him inside you, to make him feel as good as he is making you feel now. As much as you didn’t want to stop him, as much as you’d gladly spend hours like this, you wanted and needed more. 

“Seokjin, stop,” he does so immediately, looking up at you in worry. His face is covered in your wetness and the sight makes you want to cry. He has never looked hotter than he does right now, between your legs, the evidence of your pleasure all over his face and his hair a mess because of you. “I want you. Wanna kiss you.” 

“But you taste heavenly,” he pouts, turning his head to leave kisses on your thigh. 

“I’ll taste heavenly a bit later too,” you push, knowing that no matter how good this feels, it can get better for the both of you. “Come on, I want to see you.” 

Grinning, he gives your thigh a quick bite - the man has a biting kink, there’s no denying it. While that’s something you’ve never given much thought before, you are now finding it very enjoyable. What’s even more enjoyable is the sight of Seokjin taking his sweater off. You’ve known he’s handsome, you’re not blind, but never in a million years would you think that he’s so well defined. He’s not buff, far from it. He is just so perfectly defined, every muscle on his stomach noticeable and if you’re being completely honest with yourself, lickable. 

He undresses quickly as you ogle at him, your breath hitching the moment he drops his pants. 

“Well, that explains a lot,” you comment as you eye his dick - hard, girthy and surprisingly big. 

“What?” Seokjin is confused and you giggle at the way he hides his dick with his hands. “You think I’m compensating for something?” 

“Quite the opposite,” you answer honestly. “I imagine it’s easy being so full of yourself with a dick like that.” 

“Is that an insult or a compliment?” he laughs. 

“Both,” you would have been more cheeky if he hadn’t started stroking himself, the sight driving you absolutely crazy. “Please. I want to feel you.”

You don’t have to say it again - he moves to loom over you and finally, after what feels like hours and not mere minutes, you can kiss him again. The taste of you on his tongue doesn’t bother you. It’s the opposite, actually, making this moment and Seokjin himself even hotter to you. He lets you push him down onto the bed and without breaking the kiss, you station yourself above him. For the first time tonight, his hands grab a hold of your ass and he squeezes - hard. 

Both of you stay silent as you move, putting your arm between the two of you to grab a hold of his dick as you kiss. He lets out a groan the moment you wrap your hands around it. Movements gentle and slow, teasing even, knowing that this is the only chance you get to focus on his pleasure. You’d gladly take him into your mouth but you’re much too impatient for that tonight. A brief hand job will have to do, and judging by his reactions, it’s more than enough. 

You are surprised at how vocal Seokjin actually is in bed, not that you’ve given it much thought before. He’s not holding back, his moans low and deep, not embarrassed in the slightest to show you how good you’re making him feel. After one particular, higher pitched moan, you decide to do the same. You were holding back before, stupidly worried about your own dignity and giving him material to tease you endlessly. You won’t anymore. 

Biting your bottom lip and pulling it as he breaks the kiss, he leans back, looking at you with lust in his eyes, his cheeks the exact same shade as the tips of his ears. You want to take a photograph, to memorize the sight of him being turned. It feels like a privilege that only you have and you want to commit it to memory. “Y/N, please,” is all he says. 

Slowly, you line him up to your entrance and with your bottom lip between your teeth, you sink down on him. Immediately, the both of you groan at the feeling. Him being inside you feels right in all the wrong ways, a feeling so right that you know you’re going to miss it when it’s gone. 

He is the one who moves first, lifting his hips to get you to move. Smiling down at him, you grab a hold of his shoulders and slowly move your hips, letting him almost slip out of you before swallowing him whole again. Each roll of your hips faster than the previous one, not even a minute passes before Seokjin moves his hands away from your ass and pulls you directly on top of him, chest to chest, lips stuck in a slow kiss as he slams up into you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good Y/N,” he tells you and follows it with a particular hard thrust that makes you grip his shoulders harder, holding on for dear life. Having never been with him before, you couldn’t tell if he was close or not. You weren’t, yet strangely, that doesn’t bother you whatsoever. That can be dealt with easily - now, all you want to do is enjoy the feeling of him slamming into you, hard and fast, and the sight of him barely keeping it together. 

“Happy to hear that,” you giggle before said giggle is rudely interrupted with another harsher snap of his hips. “Fine, fine, you’re not so bad yourself,” you tease and the look he gives you is enough for you to know that you’ll regret saying that. Immediately. 

Without any warning, he flips you around and slams you down on the bed, his dick never leaving you. Before you can even react in any way, your healthy leg is pushed up towards your chest and Seokjin slams into you with a purpose. “You talk about how I annoyed the life out of you, pretending like you’ve never bickered back with that mouth of yours,” his words are menacing and incredibly sexy, but the way he is eating you up with his eyes kills any doubt that his words are actually resentful. “I’m glad I’ve found a way to shut you up,” he announces and as if you weren’t losing your mind already, he sneaks a finger between your legs and pinches your clit, eliciting the loudest moan of the night. “Or maybe not.”

“Seokjin!” 

“Fuck, you sound so hot screaming my name,” his pace speeds up, knowing that your orgasm is right around the corner - his thrusts become more shallow but his fingers rub your clit in the speed of light. “Come on Y/N, come for me.” 

As much as you wish that your body complied and let you come on his command, it didn’t happen that way. It took a few thrusts more, a few more harsher movements of his fingers, but by the time your orgasm has washed over you, you were gasping loudly, digging your nails into the skin of his back. Your brain was mush and you could barely recognize the words he’s saying, something about how you’re squeezing him so good. He doesn’t stop moving, helping you ride out your orgasm to the point of overstimulation. Coming out of your post-orgasm haze, you fight the overstimulation and focus on him, noticing how his thrusts are getting more erratic. He looks so out of it, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, his shoulders red with how strong you are gripping him. Slowly, you slide your hands up and around his neck, pulling him down to you, ignoring the painful stretch in your leg. 

“You can finish inside me,” you tell him, hushing his loud moan with a kiss. It’s a hectic kiss, your lips barely moving because he’s gasping into your mouth and you’re moaning at the feeling of his dick twitching inside you. “Seokjin, please come for me.” 

Was it you begging for him to come or a creampie kink, you have no idea and you don’t particularly care because the moment he comes and starts filling you up, you’re on cloud nine. It feels as good as an actual orgasm, to know that you, your body, the way you made him feel was enough to make him explode, very literally. You were the one helping him now, lifting up your hips as he stood still, his face buried in your neck, his groans filling your ear. His dick is still twitching but his body has completely given up - he drops your leg and practically falls on top of you, having enough strength and sanity to soften the blow with his hands. 

His hands give up slowly and in a matter of seconds every inch of him is pressed up against you. You don’t care, too busy relishing the feeling of his breaths on your neck and his cum slowly dripping out of you and around his dick. God, you wish you could see it but the position won’t let you. Instead of pushing him away to get a better view, you close your eyes and let your body calm down together with his. 

His weight on top of you should feel suffocating but it’s not. It feels comforting and right, which scares you to an extent but not enough to chicken out and push him away, especially not when he starts kissing any parts of you he can reach, focusing on your shoulder. After a few moments he rolls over but stays close, his hand draped over your side. You look at each other and it’s impossible not to smile because he is beaming. You can’t remember if you’ve ever seen him this happy. You must have - it’s just that you probably weren’t paying attention. 

“So… that happened,” he speaks up first. 

“Yup. Talk about a plot twist, huh?” you joke, shaking your head as you realize how weird this is on paper. “Culinary school Y/N never thought a day would come when she’d have sex with Seokjin.” 

“Yesterday’s Seokjin never thought a day would come when he’d have sex with Y/N,” he laughs, shuffling closer to you. By the looks of it, he is a cuddler and you have zero complaints about it. You let him hold you, snuggling against his chest, enjoying the moment a lot more than you ever thought you could. “Let me take you out, Y/N,” he tells you. He seems earnest and a lot more hopeful than he was back in the kitchen. “You found it in you to put the tension behind and give us a shot at being friends. Why not give this a shot, too? I like you a lot and I’ve liked you for a while… maybe you could find something to like in little old me?” he shrugs. 

“It’s already too late for that,” you laugh, lowering your head to leave a few kisses on his chest. “I’m still not ready to define it and put it to words but I’d be happy to go out with you,” you admit. 

“It might not take us anywhere,” he shrugs, making your head bounce with the movement. “For all we know, you might realize you do hate my guts after all. But maybe we end up getting along better than anyone would expect?” 

“Seokjin… with your cooking skills and your oral skills, we’re already getting along very well, if you ask me,” you joke but after a few seconds of laughter, he sits up and pushes you away. 

“The beef bourguignon!” he gasps. The sight of Seokjin running out of your bedroom, naked, to check on the food brings tears to your eyes. You can even hear him berating you, yelling something about how this is not a laughing matter but that only makes it more comical. Isn’t it ironic how now, he can make you laugh without even trying? 

The beef bourguignon didn’t burn. It was the best beef bourguignon that you’ve ever had. The entire evening was one of the best in your recent memory. Whether it was the dinner, his sweater that you were wearing while you ate, the wine, the shared shower or waking up the next morning in his embrace, the time you’ve spent with Seokjin was enjoyable, perhaps even meaningful and definitely worth repeating. 

As long as you are both willing to give it a go, it’s worth it. And it has to be kept between the two of you, at least for now. Cause as much as you like Seokjin, his cooking skills and his dick, your group of friends will never, ever, let you live this one down. Although, for all of the above… it might just be worth it. 

THE END 

[gladerwolfstarkimagines]

Imagine flirting with Azula constantly because you have a crush on her and love making her blush until one day Azula decides to call your bluff and flirt back...

You’d liked Azula from the moment you’d been put in the same sparing class as children. She was just the smartest, most determined person you’d ever met and a beautiful princess too. You were smitten, but telling Azula was out of the question and so as you started spending more time with Azula, Mai and Ty lee you had to find an outlet for all those emotions and you chose flirting. You were quite a cheesy person, you never missed the chance for a sickly sweet line or compliment so it managed to mask your crush quite well. You flirted with all of your friends, partly to cover your back but also because you liked their reactions. When you flirted with Ty lee she'd laugh adorably. When you flirted with Mai she'd roll her eyes and give you her signature death glare but Azula’s reaction was your favourite. For the girl who was prepared for everything she still didn't know how to take compliments, especially if they were mixed with flirting. Every time you flirted with her, Azula would blush and you found it amazing. Even if it was just tucking a piece of hair out of her face or a comment when you were sparring and very close together, Azula would blush and lose focus for a second and you thought it was the most adorable thing in the fire nation. Forget the turtle ducks, Azula blushing and becoming awkward made you melt. Of course you didn’t flirt with her constantly, you we’re worried to push Azula too far, not to mention half the fun was catching Azula off guard. Not knowing where the next one would come from and the suprise when it did was what made her blush. So you spent a lot of your time lost in thought about Azula and your secret self appointed mission to make her blush as much as you could get away with.

As luck would have it Azula invited you to go on a holiday to Ember Islands with Mai, Tylee and Zuko and you jumped at the chance thinking of all the fun situations you could get into. Not wasting any time, the minute you stepped onto the island you started teasing Azula. You walked into the villa beside her and looked around the room."Bagsie this bed!" you cried rushing forwards and jumping on the biggest one. "No fair" Ty lee frowned and you just smirked back at her. "You can’t have that one that’s mine" Azula said stiffly coming to stand infront of you, hands on her hips. You smirked up at her as the line formed in your head. "I’m more than willing to share if you are?" you asked with suggestive grin. Azula went bright red, Li and Lo being just outside the room, and you smiled "so is that a yes...". Azula walked away quickly and you smirked jumping up from the bed and following.

At the beach you didn’t let up either, you and Azula ended up sat together across for Ty lee who had an army of men around her. Azula glared after Ty lee and you watched her growing anger amusedly. "She’s so embarassing" Azula hissed aggressively applying sunscreen "and Mai and Zuko huddled together aren’t much better". "Aw leave them be they’re cute, you just need to relax". Azula raised an eyebrow unimpressed and you saw the opportunity. "Want me to do your back?" you asked nodding to her suncream “i’ve been told I’m very good at it”. Azula blushed and looked away "no i’m perfectly capable of doing that myself". You smirked laying down "sure, i mean no human can actually bend their arms backwards to fully reach all their back but hey i’ve seen you do many impossible things so i have faith in you" and winked before closing your eyes. You heard azula tut and your smirk grew.

Your day at the beach unsuprisingly drew attention and Ty lee got you all invited to a party. You were excited, the capital hardly ever had parties and never ones thrown by teenagers. You got ready rapidly, just so excited to get there, but had to wait for the others. Mai and Ty lee appeared not long after you but time passed and still you were waiting. Unsuprisingly the royals, with nobody here to dress them, seemed to be having problems. Zuko appeared first and a while after him Azula emerged. “About time” Zuko complained and Azula rolled her eyes “now now Zuzu, someone would think you actually wanted to go to this party”. She looked around and her eyes landed on you. You’d never seen Azula like this before and knew you were staring. She looked stunning, her hair mostly down, her face lacking any makeup just showing the tan she’d got today, she made it look effortless. "What?" Azula asked seeing you look at her and you shook your head "nothing you just look really beautiful". Azula blushed and looked away figuring it was just another one of your jokes but it wasn’t, you were deadly serious. Azula was the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen.

Azula’s POV

Unsuprisingly Azula was not enjoying the party. The teenagers were loud, messy and she struggled to relate to them on anything. This realisation made her even angrier as she saw you, Ty lee and even Mai had no problems talking to the locals. Ty lee had been swamped by men, Mai had some guy rushing over to her whenever Zuko left her side and you were amusing a group of teens with some story she’d never heard before. Azula glared watching the other teenagers looking at you when she realised she wasn’t alone. 'What you staring at?" Ty lee asked and Azula darted her eyes away you.

Azula didn’t hate the flirting or even dislike it, it was more the opposite but she just didn’t know what to do with the emotions you gave her. So naturally she repressed them but they had a way of coming back up. Like now, you’d been pretty flirty all trip and Azula had been annoyed at how that put her on edge, not in a bad way just Azula liked to have all her emotions under control but with you that was hard. Now watching you chatting with attractive men and women, Azula recognised a new emotion, she was jealous. She liked the attention you paid her, you were the only person who had ever made her feel desirable, like she was a person worth liking. People fawned over Zuko her whole life, but only you had ever chosen her and only her, it made her feel special. She also liked your confidence with her, your daring to flirt with her and she definitely didn’t like watching you flirt with someone else. But she couldn’t tell Ty lee that.

"Nothing" Azula snapped folding her arms tightly. "Wow y/n seems popular" Ty lee smiled obliviously. Azula glared, she wanted your attention, she wanted you to leave those people and focus on her. But Azula didn’t know how to do that, there was no way she could just tell you how she felt, that was preposterous. So Azula decided to play a game instead.

Your POV

You were talking to some supringly not annoying fire nation teens and enjoying yourself when someone appeared next to Chan, the boy beside you. A girl called his name softly and tapped his shoulder. You did a double take when you realised it was Azula. "I still haven’t had a tour of the house" she smiled at him sweetly and you blinked. 

Was Azula flirting?

That was something she knew how to do? 

Since when?

Chan was just as impressed and smiled at her "sure come on" and led her away. You stared after her amazed and jumped when she looked back at you a smirk on her lips. You had no idea what Azula was doing or how it involved you but something told you that you’d find out soon enough.

Ever impatient, you turned back to your new friends but struggled to get back into the conversation.You couldn’t help but wonder where Azula and Chan were or what her smirk to you had meant. There was only one way to find out and so you excused yourself from the group and decided to look for her. You wandered the party, nodding to Ty lee and Mai but still saw no sign of Azula. After a thorough search of the upstairs you sighed convinced she’d vanished when you saw someone open the balcony doors. You didn’t know there was a balcony. You walked towards it and stepped outside. You spotted Azula down the far end with Chan and froze, did she have a hand on his arm? Chan certainly looked pleased with the situation but you were not. Not thinking about how annoyed Azula would be to be interrupted, or your rule of not provoking her unwisely, you walked down the balcony to them. "Chan?" You called knowing you’d have to outsmart Azula and quickly to get rid of this boy. You we’re searching your brain for a plausible excuse when you heard a smash and smiled, "Someones broken your dad’s vase". "No!" Chan cried and practically ran past you. Azula watched him go and her eyes fell on you "that was convenient". "I saw the fight coming" you lied shrugging and turned to go back inside. "So you send away my company and then intend to leave me alone? I don’t think so" Azula declared "you will stay here with me y/n". You smirked at her authoritative tone and shrugged coming to stand beside her "you make it sound like i’m not desperate to be around you" you smirked but this time Azula didn’t blush. She just stared at you, not replying, she seemed to be studying you intensely. It was unnerving and made you blush instead.

This was new.

You stared at your hands and let silence settle, you should say something to diffuse the tension but didn’t know what to say. Azula didn’t seem to want the conversation to change though. "If you’re so desperate to be around me then prove it" Azula said simply ending the brief silence. You looked at her confused "what?". "You've been dropping hints for years of your infatuation for me, this trip you’ve taken 4 opportunities today alone to flirt with me, so prove it, put your money where your mouth is" she said simply. Azula had turned to face you fully and it was intimidating. Having your crush telling you to do what you’d been joking about for years. "I....i..." you stammered and Azula smiled slowly. "I knew it" she smiled "you talk a pretty big talk but you’re too scared to make the first move aren’t you?". You blushed and hesitated to response, you didn’t want to agree but she was correct. "Don't worry y/n your nerves wont be a problem" she smiled sweetly at you. You looked at her confused "i don’t understand" but Azula seemed to have everything sorted. "You will soon" she replied before kissing you. The contact made you jump and the fact it was Azula was almost imobilising. You never imagined someone like Azula would return your affection but here she was kissing you. You were so shocked you didn’t retaliate and Azula seperated from you briefly "come on y/n i can’t do all the work" she smirked. Although you felt like you’d been liquified her smirk made you want to kiss her, even if this was most likely a hallucination caused by heat stroke, so you did. Azula laughed as she felt you kiss her back and rushed to establish dominance. You didn’t let her take it easily, after all your years of sparring you knew how to out manouver Azula and she you, so the battle was a long one but eventually Azula won. You sighed as she pulled away and blushed to see Azula looking at you how she was right now. "Well that was nice" Azula smiled fiddling with a piece of your hair "we'll be doing that more often" and she walked away.

You stumbled back into the party in a daze and Ty lee appeared. “There you are! Mai wants to leave she’s waiting outside”. You nodded and walked outside, still feeling tingly from where Azula kissed you. Ty lee chattered on the way home but you didn’t reply too caught up in what had just happened. When you arrived back home Mai frowned “okay what’s wrong with you?”. “Me?” you asked realising she was staring at you “nothing i’m...” you blushed and smirked “perfect”. “Oh my god what happened! Who did you kiss!” Ty lee cried and when your blush deepend Mai grabbed your arm “you didn’t! Who?”. “You wouldn’t believe me even if i told you” you grinned and Mai gripped your arm tighter “you’re not going anywhere until you tell us”. Ty lee nodded “yes y/n, that’s an order”.  You laughed and blushed even more, you looked around to make sure you were alone. “Azula” you said and waited for the gasps of suprise but there weren’t any.  "It’s about time" Mai cried "god the tension between the two of you". "Wait...you guys knew she liked me?". "Duh!" Ty lee and Mai said at the same time. "Y/n how did you not? You openly flirted with Azula! Azula!!! And she didn’t kill you". You shrugged at the fair point "i guess i just figured my charm was too effective and Azula was embarrassed to admit that". Mai raised an eyebrow "no your flirting skills are awful she didn’t kill you because she liked it". "Ow" you mumbled blushing and Ty lee laughed hugging you "this is so great! You guys are perfect for each other".

"Who’s perfect for each other?" Zuko asked appearing and you all froze. 

"I believe they were talking about me and y/n brother" Azula called out entering  behind him "i mean i can only imagine after that kiss i’m all y/n can think about". You went bright red and Zuko frowned "you know as your brother you really don’t need to tell me things like that". Azula’s eyes flickered to Zuko in annoyance before landing on you and the blush on your cheeks. Azula smirked examining your reaction. She saw why you flirted with her so much, seeing you blush and squirm under he gaze was very enjoyable. Now she knew the effect it had on you, Azula was going to be doing it to you a lot more often....

____

All my Azula imagines are always soppy so I wanted to write something a bit more fun and happy for Azula...but this confident and skilled at flirting Azula would actually kill me though 😅 . 

[lilbabycee]

tidal // steve rogers 🌊

↳ summary: tony doesn’t trust his kid and steve has to play mediator, although those duties don’t come without a reward

↳ relationship: dad’s best friend!steve rogers x stark!reader

↳ request: steve defending his soft girl when she starts crying when someone yelled at her...maybe she thanks him by putting her mouth to good use @donutloverxo + what about dad’sbestfriend!steve x reader?...I need me some Steve please!! (anon)

↳ word count: 5.4k (this has no business being this long)

↳ warnings: angst, smut, dirty talk, slight degradation, some light fluff kinda

↳ author’s note: i do love a stark!reader so this was so much fun for me - enjoy my loves! x

The relationship that you have with your father is complicated. It reminds you acutely of the foamy sea that you used to tentatively wade in and simply stare at with a wide-eyed, childlike fascination when your parents took you to the Maldives or Seychelles or Ivory Coast, each summer a different place and a different tide. There’s a sense of predictability to it, a routine you have in a language that is understandable to nobody but the two of you. He pushes and you pull, coordinating your movements in a choreographed dance so as to safely row your canoe filled to the brim with trust and love through the rocky seas of life. 

He’s made a mark on you that will always be a permanent imprint on your soul much like the way that water stains the surface of the sand but it’s not as if you perceive that as something negative. You attribute the best parts of yourself to your mother and father and although their DNA isn’t housed inside your body, you’re more Tony’s child than he could have ever asked for. He hears so much of him in the tone of your voice and sees Pepper whenever you cross your arms over your chest and pin him with a look he knows too well - her influence is all over your mannerisms - and the both of them in the charming brightness of your smile when you let yourself laugh freely.

The moment he saw you, barely hours old and sleeping deeply - something that he found out that you would carry with you throughout your years - he’d thought you were cute (all babies are cute and the hundreds of other babies he’d seen in the past few weeks were also cute). But when you’d instinctively gripped Pepper’s finger tightly in your impossibly tiny fist and blinked awake sleepily, he’d fallen in love with your pretty eyes first, the way that you stared through him like you already knew him and it was then that he knew you were his as much as he was yours.

Of course, things weren’t- aren’t always as picture-perfect as they seem. He knows that there are days when you haunt his nightmares, dreams where he can’t protect you plaguing his conscience and causing him to crowd you with what he thinks is love. Rather, it’s an overbearing and often patronizing kind of attention that feels like a thousand sharp needles piercing through your skin. You’re very in touch with your emotions, a quality about you that Tony is sure that you must’ve learned from your mother, while he has the tendency to avoid sentimentality like it’s a disease and that’s where those arguments start, the ones that flare up and spread like forest fires.

In fact, you’re having one of them now. Tony knew how this was going to end before it even began but he can’t help but always engage because he’s as stubborn as he raised you to be. His jaw is set and his nostrils flaring as he stares at you - you’re his progeny, his baby, half of his heart who is standing in that way that reminds him of his wife with crystals in your eyes that make him wonder if you ever wear that diamond necklace he bought you last year.

“You never take me seriously,” you accuse, narrowing your eyes at him which causes a fat teardrop to spill over and run down your cheek. His eyes soften briefly at the sight of your emotional state before he looks away, the painful tugging at his heart trying to pull him towards you. He won’t give in to it: that’ll mean you win. “See - you can’t even look at me, Dad-”

“Sweetheart, I take you plenty seriously,” Tony gnaws on the end of the pen in his mouth, still sitting in front of the holograms of all of the data he’s been trying to process for the past few hours. His feet are propped up on the table, casually crossed at the ankles and shoulders completely relaxed, leaning back in his chair and balancing precariously one of the wheels, sitting in the exact same way that he always told you not to. He taps out a rhythmic beat against his leg with his fingers, eyes darting around the room as he pretends to be interested in everything but you. 

His entire posture radiates the feeling that he doesn’t give a shit about you or what you have to say and it makes your heart sink to your stomach despite the fact that you know this man. You know that he’s just putting on a front and he’s really listening because he was the one who drilled into your head that you always have something to say that’s worth listening to. Yet you cannot for the life of you accept that this man in front of you is acting so coldly when his own daughter is trying to tell him how she feels.

The scoff that comes out of your mouth is involuntary and Tony can’t fight the twitch of his lips because it sounds so much like him, but he only lets it linger for half a second, not allowing you to see how affected he is. Both him and Pepper were under the impression that once they had kids, Tony would finally take the steps towards being willing to share more of himself with the people around him. And he did, for a while. But once you hit those teenage years, he was forced to come to terms with the fact that you wouldn’t be his baby forever - you’d grow up and think your own thoughts and breathe your own air in an environment that he hasn’t polluted with his own ideals. 

His heart beat out of his chest every time he thought about it and he had to face the facts: he was scared. And so he went on the defensive, coddling you and trying to shield you from the harsh realities of the world that he had to face from such a young age. Unfortunately for the both of you, you didn’t appreciate being spoon-fed by your parents your whole life: you have a sense of maturity and independence that Tony is terrified of and it manifested itself in rebellion, a phase in your adolescence hat had almost gotten cost you your life in more situations than he cared to admit. 

“I’m not kidding, Dad,” you reply, your head feeling as if it’s under construction because the unbearably loud banging on the inside of your brain is driving you crazy because he’s deflecting and you know it. A river of tears slide their way down to your chin and you don’t even bother to wipe them. “And you keep making jokes like this isn’t serious-”

“I haven’t been making jokes,” Tony points out calmly, playing around with a bunch of numbers that don’t mean anything to you and distractedly manoeuvering some stupid data table that is somehow more interesting than his own child. 

As much as you try, you genuinely can’t help it when you stomp your foot, the loud noise breaking through Tony’s nonchalance and causing him to arch an eyebrow at you. 

“This isn’t some temper tantrum, Dad,” you tell him, the strength in your voice breaking down and causing it to crack. Your hands come up to clutch your head tightly in a futile attempt to bring yourself back to Earth, tired of the way that your emotions throw your brain into orbit. Your feet are on the ground but it doesn’t feel like it, your rage burning your skin and setting a bonfire in the depths of your body. “You fight me on everything - first it was college then it was working for S.I then it was becoming an Avenger… you think I’m still some little kid-”

“Because you’ve proven time after time that you can’t fend for yourself,” Tony cocks his head as your eyes lock, daring you to challenge him on his statement because the two of you know how much validity it holds.

“That was one time!-”

Tony sighs, shaking his head in what you assume is disappointment and while in any other scenario your heart would’ve sunk, this time it stays where it’s been for the past ten minutes, perishing in the flames licking the sides of your stomach. He gathers some of his papers and tucks the pen in his mouth behind his ear before he starts to make his way to the door, leaving you to stare at his back as his hand drops on the handle and he addresses you again. “One time that you could’ve gotten killed, Y/N, so we’re not doing this today-”

“You know what, Tony?” 

You’ve never called him that before - not even when you’re in large crowds and everyone seems to be yelling Dad! - and you know it’s vindictive and a step too far but it’s exhausting being treated like a helpless child. This has the desired effect, freezing him in his tracks and as he turns on his heel, you know that you may have crossed a line but you can’t bring yourself to care because your fury has consumed your whole body and the heat is boiling the blood running through your veins.

“What did you just call me?”

“Anthony,” you inform him matter-of-factly, hands on your hips while the hardness of his eyes halts your racing blood flow, the iciness freezing your bones while hot rage seeps out of every single one of his pores so palpably that you can almost see the steam spilling out of his ears. “You can fuck right off until you decide that I can be trusted enough to make decisions for myself and you know what else? You can-”

“Hey, hey, what’s going on in here?” 

You bite back your next words as soon as that rich timbre caresses your ears and the rigid posture of your body begins to slowly melt at the sound. You don’t even have to look behind you to know that it’s your dad’s best friend - ever the hero - coming to diffuse the ticking time bomb that is this argument between you and your father.

“This isn’t your battle to fight, Rogers,” Tony doesn’t peel his eyes off of you at all, not even sparing his friend a glance. 

And as much as you don’t like Tony at the moment, you can’t help but agree with him.

“Steve, he’s right,” you tear your eyes away from your dad, turning around so that you can glance over at the golden man whose presence alone has wrapped you in a comforting safety blanket that already makes you want to stand down. 

“No, neither of you are,” his blond hair is pushed back away from his face and you’re momentarily distracted by the hard lines of his jaw and the thick beard that covers them. He’s speaking in that same low voice that he uses to rally the Avengers when he’s clad in red, white, and blue, and you have to discreetly squeeze your thighs together at the sound. 

The rational part of your brain knows that this is not the time to be ogling your dad’s best friend but you can’t help the way that your heart starts beating double time when he enters a room and how his warm gaze sets your entire body alight, not unlike the way that your unbridled anger is making you feel right now; the only difference is that Steve triggers a deep desire for something unknown tucked away so secretly that it only awakened when you met him.

But you know he’d never do that to Tony - shit, you don’t know if he’s still holding a candle for a love once lost all those years ago and frankly, you don’t want to risk embarrassing yourself by feeling the poison sting of rejection dealt from the sickeningly sweet lips of America’s apple pie. The lethal mix of sugar and malice would only rot your heart and you don’t know that you could survive the decay.

“In fact, both of you are acting like children,” he booms, his hands landing on his hips while he shakes his head disbelievingly at your familial dispute. Steve opens his mouth as if he’s about to continue, but Tony simply holds a hand up and it almost immediately shushes the supersoldier.

“No need, Capiscle,” Tony cocks his head to the side almost mockingly, his eyes still glued resolutely on your wet face. “I just wanna say this: if you are going to be so ungrateful of everything that your mother and I have sacrificed for you, then you can get the fuck out of my house. You have no idea what we’ve had to go through just so that you can live a safe, healthy lifestyle in which you don’t have to want for anything. The fact that you have the audacity to speak to me like that is a testament to how much we’ve failed as parents because you are the fruit of all of our labor: a spoiled little brat with no conception of the real world because everything revolves around you, doesn’t it princess?”

He spits the endearment out and you can only assume that it is because it has left as bitter a taste in his mouth as it has yours. Throughout his heated rant, your hands started shaking and at first, you couldn’t figure out why but you soon realized that it’s because Tony’s never yelled at you like that before. He barely even raises his voice at you because he’s never wanted to be anything like Howard but today, it seems as if he could no longer contain all of the pent up frustration that he’s had with you that has been building for years. 

And because of this, you’ve been rendered speechless with no visible emotion on your face save from the seemingly endless stream of tears that spill from your glassy eyes. You don’t know what hurts more: his words or the fact that he’s still staring at you like a stranger.

“Tony, that’s enough,” Steve intervenes when the silence between the three of you stretches on for what feels like an eternity. He positions his body so that he’s blocking you from your father’s cold stare. “I’m not gonna let you talk to her like that-”

“Oh, come on, Cap,” Tony scoffs and you don’t have to be able to see him to know that he’s folded his arms over his chest. “You don’t even know what-”

“And I don’t need to know,” the broad man in front of you interrupts him loudly and you can do nothing but watch the altercation happen because even if you tried, you can’t pick your feet up off the floor. “Whatever she’s done or said to you doesn’t warrant you speaking to her like that. You’ve fought her at every corner, what do you expect? For her to just lie down and take it? She’s your daughter: you should know as well as I do that she’s as hard-headed as you. You need to take a step back and stop being a backseat driver - she’s an adult now and can make her own choices, Tony.”

And with that, Steve circles an arm around you and lifts you up into his arms, his waist trapped between your legs and your arms gripping his neck. A moment passes when Steve breezes past Tony where your gazes meet and the usual sweetness of his hazelnut eyes has turned bitter with guilt and resentment. You avert your stare as quickly as you can to bury your face in Steve’s muscled shoulder and as your cheek rests on it, you’re reminded all too vividly of the way that Bucky or Sam or Steve (or your dad) used to carry you to bed when you had fallen asleep between the pages of your textbook or face down next to a cold bowl of whatever Pepper had cooked for you that night. 

Really, you’re almost convinced that you must’ve dozed off during the short trip from Tony’s lab to your bedroom because when you finally snap back to attention, you’re still in Steve’s arms but he’s standing still in front of your bed. And neither of you say anything for some time, letting the moment breathe while Steve soothes you silently, rubbing a hand up and down the length of your spine as quiet sobs wrack your shaking body.

“Hey, hey,” he hushes you, eventually sliding you down his body and placing you on the bed. You’re sure that your face still reflects your previous mental state but you feel significantly better now, the hive of bees that were slamming at the insides of your heart have tired both you and themselves out and are now resting. You look up at Steve with wide eyes, wet lashes brushing your skin lightly as his baby blues drill into yours so deeply that you’re sure that he must be able to see inside your head by now. “I’m not gonna ask if you’re okay because the answer seems kind of obvious, but I will ask if you need anything?”

You hesitate before giving him an answer, torn between confessing those powerful feelings for him that you’ve tried so hard to repress and letting him go. Instead, you grab one of his hands between both of yours, tugging on it so that he kneels in front of you. 

“You didn’t have to do that for me back there,” your eyes flick up to his quickly and you can’t help it when you start to play with his fingers, consciously having to stop your mind from wandering to unsavory places. “I-I know you and my dad are, like, best friends, so I never would’ve asked you to put your friendship at risk and stand up for me like that… it was, uh- it was really sweet of you, Steve, so thank you-”

Steve jerks his head back and for a tense second, your heart drops because you’re sure that you’ve offended him but then he says:

“Y/N, you don’t have to thank me- not at all, I mean- it was the human thing to do,” Steve insists, forcefully grasping your chin in his large hand to make him look at you. The disbelief that sparkles in his eyes lights up your soul and makes a shy smile spread across your lips. 

He leans in to plant a chaste kiss on your cheek like he usually does, but you decide there and then that you really are tired of having your dad take the reigns from you every day. You want to be able to confidently grab life by its metaphorical balls and take a leap of faith off of what is admittedly a very steep cliff. So you grip his face between your hands and redirect his lips to your own. 

He’s completely unresponsive for several seconds, causing a scorching hot wave of embarrassment to flood your face - a part of you wants to hold out hope and pray that maybe he’s just shocked by your bold move but you’ve learned not to cling onto unrealistic expectations so you move back, eyes squeezed shut because you can already taste the sourness of rejection on your tongue. 

But he knocks all of the breath out of your body when he climbs on top of you and crashes his lips back on yours, cradling your face between his wide palms as he slides his tongue into your mouth. It’s messy and raw as your teeth clash with his almost violently but the feeling of his soft lips on yours soothes that ache, their warmth curing the hurt in your heart. He swallows any breath you have left in your lungs as your lips move in tandem with his. 

When you pull away because you think you’re about to suffocate, Steve presses his lips down the column of your neck, sucking a bruise right underneath your ear and playfully biting your earlobe. The rough sensation of his thick beard on your sensitive skin makes you giggle breathlessly and your chest heaves as his hands move smoothly down to your waist, hooking his thumbs in the waistband on your shorts. 

But then his hands stop moving and you look at him with confusion written all over your face. He lowers his head to your abdomen, resting his forehead on your stomach and your hand instinctively weaves through the golden strands of his hair. 

“Steve?-”

“You want this, sweetheart?” he kisses your stomach and moves right in between your legs, looking up at you as his thumbs still toy with the stretchy material of your black shorts. 

“Of course-”

And you don’t get to finish your sentence because you gasp as Steve whips off your shorts with unprecedented speed. He takes your panties right with them, throwing them somewhere to the side - you don’t care to notice where because Steve’s eyes are more black than blue and his gaze is locked on your core. 

This is when you get an idea.

When you take your t-shirt off, you’re only left in the black bralette that you normally wear around the house, so you whip that off too without any preamble. Steve’s eyes are so focused on the bounce of your breasts that it gives you the opportunity to muster up all of the energy you can, locking your legs around Steve’s waist (your eyes can’t help but travel to the obvious bulge in his blue jeans) and flip him over so that you’re sitting right on top of his erection. 

“Wh-”

You shush him, pulling at the bottom of his shirt so that he gets the message to take it off. He does as he’s told but narrows his eyes at you. You almost don’t notice because you’re staring at the glorious expanse of his sculpted upper body. You’ve always thought that he looked like a Greek statue and right now, the way that the sunlight streaming through your window bounces off of his smooth skin and brings out the green in his eyes only emphasizes the fact that he’s a true work of art, a masterpiece in his own right. 

Pushing yourself up so that you’re nose to nose with the supersoldier on his back underneath you, you lean down just enough so that your lips ghost over his when you speak. 

“I’m supposed to be thanking you,” you press your lips against his momentarily, watching the way that his eyelashes flutter when you slowly slide your hand down his powerful chest, over his muscled stomach and down to his jeans-clad crotch to boldly palm his dick. 

“Honey, you don’t have to-”

You cut him off with another quick kiss, moving down his body with the grace of a trained dancer (you can thank your mom for over ten years of ballet) so that you can unbuckle the black belt at his narrow waist. Steve props himself up on his forearms, staring down at you with hooded eyes and your eyes keenly follow the swipe of his tongue over his cotton candy lips.

You take your time pulling his zipper down, noticing how his eyes follow the movement of your hands as you push his jeans down his thick thighs. Your mouth is close to watering at the sight of his white Calvins which are very obviously tented in the front and you snap the elastic band of his boxer briefs playfully before pulling them over his erection.

It’s impossible to stop the way that your eyes grow comically large at the size of his cock, something at the back of your mind wondering whether or not you’ll be able to fully take him down your throat. He’s heavy in the both of your hands, the tip flushed red and leaking pre-cum. 

But it’s the cocky little smirk on Steve’s face that steels your resolve. 

“What’s wrong, baby? Too big for you?” he teases you in a surprisingly steady voice, inhaling again to continue his jeering, but his head falls back and his breath audibly stutters because you flatten your tongue and lick a broad stripe up the underside of his dick.

“You were saying?” you taunt right back, a smile of your own gracing your face. He doesn’t have a reply to that, instead moving his hand down to grip the back of your neck tightly, guiding you back down to his cock.

The tip of your tongue swirls around the head of his length before you take the bulbous tip between your lips, sucking lightly and enjoying the way that his blunt fingernails are stabbing into the skin of your neck. You don’t tease him for much longer, one hand on the base of his manhood while you relax your throat and attempt to take all of him in your mouth. Your fight your gag reflex tooth and nail, reveling in the quiet sighs and moans from the man above you.

What you can’t swallow you work with your hand, your other hand coming up to toy with his balls and roll them between your fingers and palm. He controls the speed at which you bob up and down his cock and you keep watching the array of emotions on his face, feeling the power and control that you have over him surge through your body.

“God, doll,” he groans, his lower lip between his perfect teeth. “You’re such a good girl, takin’ all of me like that.”

His words spur you on and you really push your boundaries by taking him all the way down, so close that your nose is being tickled by the dark blond hairs at the base of his cock. What you’re not expecting is the way that Steve applies pressure to the back of your neck that’s just enough so that you can’t move. Your eyes sting as he keeps your head down, making you swallow and choke as small tears leak from your eyes. You’re forced to breathe through your nose as Steve groans when your gag reflex kicks in, your throat constricting around the heavy weight of his dick.

“Such a good little slut, huh?” he smirks, running the pad of his thumb over your cheekbone. “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth, baby, suckin’ your dad’s friend off like a little fuckin’ whore.”

You can’t help the way that a loud moan falls from your lips, though it’s almost entirely muted by the thick cock in your mouth. 

“Oh, you like that?” Steve’s confidence is only making you wetter. He eases up on your neck, allowing you to withdraw about an inch before he pushes you back down. “You like being called a slut, pretty girl?”

You nod as best as you can under the circumstances, fighting back another moan.

“That’s good, honey, because you’re gonna be my little cockslut from now on, hmm?”

And finally, he pulls you off of him completely, reveling in the way that your eyes are glossy with tears and your lungs gulp down huge breaths as thin strings of saliva hang from your lips. 

“Messy girl,” Steve reprimands you condescendingly, but his voice sounds strained and he looks like he could cum just from drinking in your disheveled state. “You’re gorgeous, doll.”

You can’t stop the smile that grows on your face at the praise, and Steve cups your face gently and leans in to give you a sweet kiss. 

“You gonna let me cum in your mouth, sweetheart?” he murmurs against your lips, nudging your nose with his. 

“Yes, sir,” you tease playfully, not wasting any more time and wrapping your lips around his dick once again, running the tip of your tongue against the prominent vein down the side while you bob your head up and down. You’re more determined than ever to push him over the edge, wanting to be the one who has complete control over his pleasure. 

“That’s it, just like that- shit, baby, I’m gonna cum,” he warns you after he takes your face between both of his hands and fucks your mouth, your jaw relaxed as he uses you to chase his orgasm, eyes closed and head hanging back as he loses himself in the throes of desire. 

You bask in the sense of satisfaction that you get from the way that his cock twitches in your mouth and the shout that he gives when the evidence of his release floods your mouth. You happily let it slide down your throat, sucking on his tip lightly as you do. The tangy taste lingers on your tongue and as you pull off of him with a pop, you have to wipe around your mouth because you’re sure that he’s made a complete mess of your face. 

“Holy fuck, darlin’,” he heaves, pulling you up to rest against his chest but not before you take the time to admire how beautiful he is. A light pink flush that’s started at his cheeks has traveled down his neck and bloomed on his chest - you love the way that it’s burning the tips of his ears. With your chest pressed against his, he ghosts his fingers up and down your back while his lips press against your shoulder.

“Your dad’s gonna kill me… and I didn’t even get you off, baby,” he mutters, only a second away from pouting and it makes you grin. 

“He won’t because he’s not gonna find out… and I didn’t want you to,” you reply simply, lightly circling one of his nipples with the tip of your nail. “Besides, you have plenty of time to do that later.”

Steve readjusts himself so that his back is leaning against the headboard and you’re perched in his lap, straddling his thighs. His brows are knitting together and a frustrated frown mars his pretty face. 

“No, I want to,” he insists, warm hands landing on your hips and rocking them back and forth so that your clit catches on the muscles of his legs. You bite your lip so as to suppress a moan. “It wouldn’t be-”

“Y/N, babe, are you in there?”

The two of you still as a knock followed by Tony’s soft voice bleeds through the door. 

“Shit,” you curse quietly, scrambling off of Steve and grabbing the nearest article of clothing that you can find. 

“I know you don’t wanna talk to me right now, but I don’t wanna leave things like this so I’m comin’ in, sweetie-”

“Dad, no!”

But it’s too late, the door opening just enough to reveal your father’s face whose whiskey eyes immediately land on yours. Thankfully, you were able to pull on Steve’s shirt and your shorts, but you can’t say the same for the six-foot-something supersoldier who has skillfully rolled underneath your bed, still naked as the day he was born. 

“What’s going on in here, hon?” Tony quirks an eyebrow at you as he pops his head around the door, narrowing his eyes suspiciously as his eyes scan the room. 

“Nothing,” you say breathlessly, running a hand over your face as you silently pray that your dad won’t catch his friend hiding beneath your bed with no clothes on. 

“Okay?” he draws out the word, obviously confused as your eyes meet his. “I just wanted to say so-”

“We’ll talk about it later, Dad,” you try to smile and move towards him so that you shoo him away from your room.

“You sure?”

“Positive,” you affirm, putting your hand on top of the one he has wrapped around the side of the door and squeezing it reassuringly. 

“If you say so,” Tony lets go of the door, spinning on his heel and starting to stroll down the hall. You let go of the breath that you weren’t aware you were holding. “And give Bucky back his shirt!”

A laugh bubbles up in your chest as your heart warms watching your dad throw a wink at you over his shoulder, knowing that the choppy seas have stilled and the water’s calm once again, the tide returning to its regular routine. You shut the door with a click before turning back to see Steve sitting casually with his back resting against the side of your bed.

“So, uh,” a cheeky smile graces his face. “Same time tomorrow or?”

tagged: @literaturefeen @evnscvll @donutloverxo @stargazingfangirl18​