#can’t remember if he gets it back but yeah

[awrkive]

Wer is grumpy jk! We badly need it 😫😭

summary: you and jungkook are getting closer, moving forward – but to where, exactly? what does that entail for your relationship? 

w/c: 3.3k

note: this is for all the girlies who asked for part 2 for this drabble. nothing but fluff in here ): ive been thinking abt college jk lately and i lowkey like this grumpy!jk guy… basically this takes place two months after the first drabble u may read this amm for grumpy!jk for a brief bg on what their relationship has become before u go read this parr. anyway the ending is a bit diabolical and im saying sorry in advance

also pls listen to come here by kath bloom, its literally so them 😮‍💨😖

It’s almost natural the way Jungkook immediately slings his backpack on one shoulder, heads straight out of the lecture hall, and starts the almost ten-minute walk from his department building to yours the moment his last class for the day was dismissed. 

He waits outside by the hallway along the lecture room, scrolling through his phone mindlessly, knowing that any minute now you’ll be coming out of the door. 

And just as a slew of students’ chattering becomes louder, their heavy footsteps coming out from the hall, Jungkook instantly spots you; talking to a friend animatedly – Joy, maybe? – before you look to the other side and finally see him. 

“Jungkook!” You exclaim with excitement, smiling up at him and even doing a little wave. Jungkook watches as you turn to your friend. “Sorry, I gotta go. Zoom meeting at five, right?” He hears you say before she nods, bidding your goodbyes to each other before she goes in the opposite direction while you saunter towards him with that usual dashing grin on your face. 

Jungkook meets you halfway, lips curling up slightly at your enthusiastic greeting. Even more so when you don’t fight off the way he goes for your tote bag, taking it off your shoulder and wearing it on his own, the weight not adding that much to his own bag perched on his back. 

He remembers the first time he tried to do it (awkwardly, might he add), and you vehemently refused. But Jungkook can be persistent sometimes when he wants to, and eventually you gave up trying to resist.

Currently, as you walk along the hallway out of your building, standing close together, Jungkook tries not to think too much about how easy this feels. Like it’s normal the way you immediately interlock your arm around his own, skipping a little bit upon your walk as you begin speaking.

“You really did cut your hair.” You marvel at him when he looks down at you. And he can’t help it; the blood rushing to his cheeks and certainly on his ears. 

“I sent you a picture.” He simply says. It was yesterday. He originally went to his barber for just a trim but he remembers you saying something about a particular actor’s haircut… and look, it’s not like he was trying to look like that man but it may have influenced the decision a little bit… 

Anyway, he thinks it looks okay on him. He trusts his barber and Hoseok said it suits him. From your response, you also said it looks nice. 

And you tell him so. “I like it! You look so good. Especially with this frame!” You point to his eyeglasses, smiling up at him. “I was thinking you were just sending me a random picture last night.” 

Jungkook chuckles. “I wasn't, and uh, thank you.”

“You're welcome. Anyway,” you say, “Did you wait for long earlier? Sorry ‘bout that. Prof. Shin had to extend a little bit ‘cause there were a lot of questions about our new project.” 

“You have a new project?”

“Yeah, but nothing really heavy. Just a hotel lobby interior design. We got a week and it’s a paired task thing, that’s why you saw me with Joy earlier—”

He sees a flock of students ahead huddling by your side of the pathwalk, and because you have a tendency to not really pay that much attention to your surroundings, he takes you by the waist slightly to avoid bumping with them, causing you to stumble closer to him. 

You crane your neck to look behind you for a moment, gaze falling back up to Jungkook with widened eyes. “Sorry.” you say with a jutted lip and a little frown. 

“It’s okay.” Jungkook says with a reassuring smile. He means it. He likes being close like this and if you don’t watch your surroundings, he’ll just do it for you. He doesn’t mind. 

You grin. “Anyway… I was saying, it’s a hotel interior. But! The thing is, it’s a themed hotel, which I’m really excited about ‘cause I’m tired of designing contemporary, luxury ones. They always tend to be so redundant.” 

Jungkook nods. “I think so too. What’s the themed hotel about?” 

“Have you heard of a film called Metropolis?” He shakes his head. You nod at that. “Well, yeah, me neither. At least a week ago. Prof gave it to us as an assignment and it’s a silent film from the ‘20s. A sci-fi tale, so very futuristic – at least for that time. So that’s the theme of the hotel, right, and Joy and I immediately thought of art deco.” 

Jungkook intently listens as you go on about your initial ideas, and he doesn’t even have to worry about the terms he doesn’t understand because you always take time to explain it to him in layman’s. It’s funny, really, because ever since he’s learned that you study interior design and started to talk to him about it, he found himself taking interest in it as well. Two months ago, he couldn't have given a single care about a couple named Charles and Ray Eames and their weird chair called La Chaise, but here he is, anyway.

Maybe it’s because of the way you so passionately talk about it. Your zeal oozes out so much when it comes up as the topic of conversation, and there’s always been something about you that pulls people right in. And Jungkook’s at peace with himself now that he’s just one of those people. 

He’s willing to be pulled right in, anyway. You don’t exactly make it hard to. 

And Jungkook finds that the newfound dynamic between you two isn’t… so bad. He finds excitement at the prospect of seeing you after his classes are concluded, going to Fro-yo for a quick snack because you’re obsessed with it, and studying together at his place later in the day.

A lot of people would say he’s making up for all the times he’s ignored you. The times when he pretended to not care about you. The times when he was just unprovokedly mean and treated you the way he regrets now. And sure, it may have started that way. Ever since your Environmental Science project was finished and the term was over, Jungkook started to feel like he couldn’t go back to the life where you weren’t within his perimeter. Couldn’t imagine you both being back to – practically – regular strangers, so he just… opened up to you more.

He shares his own stories now. Tells you about his day after you do so, and invites you to Fro-yo and other cafes and restaurants around campus whenever your schedules align. 

And maybe at first it was, indeed, because he was trying to make up for his past behavior – but that may have only been what he convinced himself of for the first few weeks. When the week stretched into months and the months suddenly involved you doing sleepovers at his place whenever his roommate, Hoseok, is not around, Jungkook is starting to question himself if this is all still about simply making it up to you. 

Because frankly, he’s starting to feel like it's a little more than that.

He’s not just buying you frozen yogurt and helping you with any assignment (that requires his silly and minuscule math and science expertise) and letting you borrow and keep his hoodies and shirts whenever you sleep over because he’s trying to make up for the past – he’s doing all of these because he genuinely enjoys your company and would like to do more for you… with you… to you… and just… just more. 

He wants more with you. 

And every single day is a daunting battle for his internal mullings. 

Because he knows he’s been stupid all this time not to realize right away that he’s got romantic feelings for you. That his confusion when it comes to you didn't come from the reason that you were extremely extroverted and had way too much energy – it was that those things made him like you and his little heart and brain couldn’t comprehend any of it the way he can easily wrap his head around math equations and concepts.

But he keeps himself on the sidelines. Thinks about keeping himself there until he’s sure of what you truly think about. 

You’re always nice to him. But you’re kind of nice to everybody… so that gets him a little twisted.

On Monday, when you were supposed to hang out – when you usually sleep over at his place, you bailed on him to study with Jae, as per Taehyung's words, your mutual friend.

He just can’t tell if the way you treat him is different to the way you treat everyone else, and that’s what’s been on his mind lately. 

“Oh, Kookie,” you say as soon as Jungkook takes out his keys, going for his keyfob when you arrive at the parking area. He looks at you in question, completely ignoring the way his heart flutters a little at the nickname. He kind of hates it, thinks it's too childish when other people call him that – but with you it sounds so much like an endearment, so he doesn't protest. You press your lips into a thin line before you say, “I can’t go to Fro-yo today. Joy and I agreed to have a zoom meeting later to start conceptualizing.” 

“Oh,” Jungkook blinks. “Rain check?” 

You pout. “Yeah.” 

“You can do it at my place? Hoseok’s doing an all-nighter with his study group, so he won’t be there ‘til the morning.”

“But I didn’t bring my laptop today.”

With furrowed brows, Jungkook steps closer to you. “It’s alright. We can drive to your place, get your laptop then go to mine,” he smiles. “Sleepover?” 

Jungkook doesn’t want to toot his own horn but he may have seen your face light up at that. But it comes off easily and he begins to worry.

“I want to, but I don’t want to impose.” You say. 

Instantly, Jungkook’s forehead creases. “You won’t be imposing.” When he sees that you’re about to decline again, he lets out a, “Please?” 

At that, you stop. You stare at him for a moment. 

“Uh…” you trail off. “You sure? Are you not busy tonight?”

He shakes his head. “I’ll probably start on an assignment so we can be both busy–” you nudge his arm at that, laughing. “– but other than that, no. I’ll cook us something. Or do you want to get take-out instead?” 

“I’d really, really appreciate your black bean noodles tonight.” You muse, looking at him like he holds the stars in the sky. With you gazing up at him like that, how can he say no?

“I think we have the ingredients in the fridge. Black bean noodles it is, then.” Jungkook says before you’re muffling your own squeal in your excitement, saying your little delighted “thank you” when Jungkook ushers you in the passenger seat after opening it for you. 

He rounds the car before he settles on his side, and when he starts the engine, he can’t help but smile slightly at the way you lean comfortably on your seat, as if you’re so used to being in his car – which you are.

And Jungkook finds he likes that. He likes you that way; being used to being around him. 

“You’re done?” Jungkook looks up from his computer, seeing you doing some arm stretches and leaning into his gaming chair to do it on your neck as well. 

“Yep.” 

“Then come here already.” He shuts his laptop close, places it on the bedside table, and pats the space on the mattress next to him. 

It’s nearly 10pm and your zoom meeting with Joy went for nearly 4 hours. You got on it immediately after you two ate your dinner, and like clockwork, asked to borrow one of Jungkook’s shirts because your top was getting a little too uncomfortable on your body. You’ve both already showered – separately, of course – and that’s one of the many things that Jungkook smiles about when he enters his bathroom sometimes. Because the fact that you shower in his bathroom means your essentials are slowly making a space for themselves in his own place; the yellow cup holder of your toothbrush sits next to his blue one, and a bottle of your moisturizer is also in his lavatory cabinet. 

“‘M so tired” You let yourself fall on the mattress, bouncing a little on it face down, sprawling across the bed like some starfish, your other hand landing on Jungkook’s abdomen. 

“Meeting went well?” Jungkook asks, and he’s a little disappointed when you remove an arm on him, but that’s okay, because soon you’re leaning sidewards to properly look at him and it makes him smile to see you so cozy like this. Barefaced and in his shirt. 

“Yeah, we got some work done,” You say. Jungkook watches as you try to get comfortable on your side of the bed. “I think I’m sleepy now.” 

“Yeah?” He follows after you, and he doesn’t hide his huge smile when you go and turn your back to him immediately after he slides his arm under your neck, spooning you from behind. Snuggling closer to him, Jungkook wraps his other arm around your waist and lets out a contented sigh against the back of your head. “My first class is at one thirty pm tomorrow.” 

“I have one at eight am. Then the next one is at ten.” 

“Tough.” 

“I know… I wish I didn’t enlist in morning classes.” 

He chuckles, closing his eyes as he starts to feel that familiar lull of sleep dancing behind his eyes. But truth be told, he doesn’t want to give into that just yet.

“You were with Jae on Monday?” He asks, carefully treading through the subject. It’s Thursday now. It's not like Jungkook’s a jealous guy… it just kind of threw him off a little, because you didn’t tell him you were with Jae. 

“Uh… yeah?” Jungkook feels you freezing in his arms. “How’d you know?” 

“Taehyung told me.” 

“Oh.” He can practically hear the wince. “He has such a big mouth.” You say drily. 

That earns you a laugh from Jungkook. But he decides to take down the jokes for a more honest and open conversation with you tonight. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It’s not accusatory. It’s soft and gentle, the way he asks it, with his thumb rubbing the exposed skin of your hip due to the hem of your – his – shirt riding up. 

Your answer takes awhile. 

“I was… getting help with estimates.” 

“... Okay,” Jungkook tightens his hold around you, growing confused. “But I’m really good with estimates. I could’ve helped you.” It was easy math for him. And you never shied away from asking him for help before… why now?

“Well, he offered.” 

Jungkook’s brows crease deeper. “That’s not…" he trails off, then continues, "You know you can ask me for anything, right? Jae’s not even on the dean's list. How’d you know he’s teaching you the right stuff?”  

Silence hangs in the air before Jungkook hears your laughter. Shuffling in his arms, Jungkook loosens his hold around you to let you turn to him. When he sees your face, there's a huge grin on it.

“He’s not even on the dean’s list?” You sound intrigued.

Jungkook assumed you were curiously speaking, and so he nods, looking into your eyes seriously. “He isn’t. Look, I’m not saying–” when he notices your smile only getting wider by the second, he realizes you’re just trying to fuck with him, so Jungkook cuts himself off, letting out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I sound like an asshole.”

You scoot closer until both the front of your bodies are stuck. Jungkook tries not to think too much whether you’re wearing a bra underneath his shirt or not. 

You shake your head. “Not really. I believe you’re way smarter than him.” 

“Then why come to him and not me?” 

You stare at him for a moment, then you let out a heavy breath. “I just feel like you’re doing so many things for me nowadays. You were also really busy on Monday– don’t deny it–” you say before he opens his mouth to oppose that. He shuts his lips close, listening to you go on instead. “– and I was just being considerate. Jae offered because we saw and sat next to each other at the library, and I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to disturb you.” 

Jungkook blinks, processing your words. After a pregnant pause, he slowly nods, still dumbstruck. 

“Ah… okay. I understand.” he says, embarrassment slowly filling his system. 

You smile at him. Playfully. “Sorry for asking help from someone who’s not on the dean’s list.” Jungkook drops his expression into a poker face at that, which makes you laugh even more. You nibble on your bottom lip before you stretch your hand to his cheek and pinch it. He doesn’t bother dodging your hand. With a giggle, you say, “Sorry, sorry. That was just so funny. You’re so funny without even trying sometimes, you know?” 

“Not really.” Jungkook says and you can tell the tell-tale signs of his grumpiness starting to kick in.

What he doesn’t expect is the way you suddenly squeal and launch yourself on top of him, causing him to lie fully on his back with you sprawled all over his body, hugging him tight and burying your face in his chest. 

“You’re so cuddly and warm. Can we stay like this for awhile?” You break away from his chest and look at him from a low angle. 

Jungkook meets your gaze. 

Sure, you’ve been cuddling (platonically) all these past few months – but they never went to this length. And he’s not sure what the difference is, anyway – just that you’re much closer like this and Jungkook can feel everything. Still, that doesn’t deter him from wrapping his arms around your waist, slightly locking you in the position. Quite frankly, he doesn’t even want you to move. 

“Alright.” Is his simple answer. Not like he needed to think about it.

“I’ll sleep now, okay?” But you don’t wait for his response before you lay on his chest again with your cheek pressed on his hoodie.

Because the moment just feels right somehow, Jungkook lets his hand wander on your head. Then slowly, he lets his fingers comb through the strands of your hair, tentatively at first, lest you didn’t want him touching you or something like that – but once he hears a sound akin to a purr coming from you, he continues and finds himself getting comforted by the action as well. 

“The Jae thing really bothered you?” You ask suddenly, not breaking away from the position you’ve assumed on top of his body. But your words are slightly slurred in the haze of sleep.

Jungkook hums. “Yes.” 

“Sorry for not telling you myself.” 

“It’s okay,” Jungkook reassures you. His gaze falls to the ceiling, hand still caressing your hair. The surface is empty, and there’s not really much going on. Meanwhile, in your own bedroom, you have those glow in the dark star stickers pasted on your white ceiling. He’s never slept over there, but he thinks it would be nice to lay under your makeshift galaxy with your homely scent surrounding the two of you. “Are you not gonna ask why I was bothered?” He says after a beat. 

“I was gonna. But I think I know.” You answer, and Jungkook doesn’t expect that one bit.

He stops his ministrations on your hair, and it’s obvious that you’re about to question it when you suddenly peel your face away from his chest again. 

When you do, Jungkook meets your gaze and with a leveled tone, he asks the question he’s been mulling about for the past two months.

“__, what are we?” 

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Forbidden Fruit.

That’s the thing about Declan - he always gets what he wants. It might be wrong… but it feels so right.

declan o’hara x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. use of the c word. age gap. cheating. declan’s filthy mouth needs its own warning.

word count - 2.3k

authors note - that man is a munch and I cannot be convinced otherwise. my crush on aidan turner has returned tenfold and i’m about to make it everyone’s problem. read declan’s dialogue in that gorgeous irish accent of his for the full experience.

masterlist. inbox.

You’ve fake laughed so much this afternoon that you can’t remember what your real one sounds like.

Finally breaking away from a conversation with Freddie’s wife, you swan across the garden in your sundress towards the food and drink table. You absentmindedly pick at the strawberries, hoping and praying that no one bothers you for a moment. All you need is a minute to yourself, away from all of these faux smiles and boastful exchanges.

Reaching towards a raspberry, you feel fingertips ghosting across your back quickly.

“Y’alright?”

You’d recognise that voice anywhere, of course, and not just because he’s the only Irish man in The Cotswolds.

“Bored out of my mind, actually.”

“You’d never know.”

“I’m a good actress, these days. I’ve done one too many of these stupid garden parties.”

He chuckles all genuine and honeyed, and you’d be lying if you said the sound didn’t settle warmly in your bones.

“Whatcha doing tonight?”

He’s keeping his voice low, inconspicuous. You’ve both turned so you’re looking out over the garden, backs to the table, watching the crowds of people and their gossiping. To anyone else, it looks like an innocent conversation between two acquaintances. They can’t see his hand playing with the hem of your dress behind you, or the way his fingers keep brushing the backs of your thighs, sending shivers down your spine.

“My boyfriend is coming over. You know that.”

“What time?”

You roll your eyes but answer anyway.

“Nine.”

“So what I’m hearing… is that you’re available from whenever this crap finishes until then?”

“That’s a stupid idea.”

“You usually love my stupid ideas.”

“Well maybe I’m trying to be smarter.”

He laughs with his full chest while you fight to keep the grin off your face, shaking your head.

“You’re already the smartest person here. Any smarter and we’re all doomed.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Declan.”

He pauses for a moment, pressing his side into yours and running his thumb across the soft skin of your thigh underneath your dress.

“I think we both know that’s not true, sweetheart.”

Your breath stutters as you will yourself to get it together, desperate to not repeatedly give in to his murmured promises and flirty remarks. It’s wrong. You know it is, both of you do, and yet…

“I want you gone by eight at the latest. I don’t need the two of you bumping into each other on my front step.”

He smirks like the cat that got the cream, looking down at you with lust drunk eyes.

“Good girl,” he whispers. “Promise to make it worth your while, yeah?”

“You always do,” you breathe out, so quietly that you’re surprised he hears.

He’s about to reply when you’re both startled by Rupert, striding over with the confidence of ten men and a bottle of champagne in his hand.

“Have they run out of glasses, CB?”

He slings an arm around your shoulder, laughing that rich man’s laugh right into your ear.

“Live a little, darling. Walk with me, will you? I have a story that might be worth your time, and I thought I’d bring it to my favourite journalist before anyone else.”

Rupert all but drags you across the garden, already chattering on about a scandal in the local constituency of the Conservative Party. You cast your eyes back to where Declan hasn’t moved, his gaze roving over your figure as you walk away.

He winks cheekily, dirty smirk slapped across his face.

You hate the way it sends electricity running through your veins in anticipation.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

It’s six forty five when there’s a knock on your door.

The devil himself is standing on your front step, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Hi darlin’.”

His accent is like molten honey, golden and warm and laced with sweetness. There’s mischief running through it though - as there always is.

“Come on,” you urge, grabbing his tie and pulling him inside, worried that one of your neighbours will see.

He laughs as he shuts the door behind him, unphased by your urgency.

“Thought you had a meeting. CB was telling me all about it earlier.”

���Rupert would tell you anything,” he chuckles. “He’s got a soft spot for pretty girls.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” you giggle, undoing his tie from around his neck and hanging it on your coat rack.

“No. I have a soft spot for one pretty girl.”

“Sweet talker,” you tease as you roll your eyes, undoing the first few buttons on his shirt. “How about you put your money where your mouth is, hmm? We don’t have all night.”

He clicks his tongue, hands finding your hips to pull you against him.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he murmurs, leaning in so his lips brush yours. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“Less talking,” you scold, grabbing at his biceps to kiss him desperately.

Declan pushes you up against the wall, hips pressing into yours as he slips his tongue into your mouth. He tastes like cigarettes and whiskey and those mints he keeps in a tin in his back pocket. He scatters open mouthed kisses across your neck, licking across your skin and sucking the spot underneath your ear.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he mumbles. “Ever since I saw you in this dress.”

“You like it?” you breathe, head rolling to the side to give him more access.

“I fucking love it.”

“Good. Bought it for you.”

He groans, grinding his hips into yours.

“You’re a minx,” he pants, biting at your shoulder. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

With that, Declan wraps his arms around your middle, practically dragging you into the living room to throw you onto the sofa. He pulls your dress over your head, throwing it onto the floor with reckless abandon.

He instantly gets on his knees in front of you, spreading your legs with rough hands.

“Been waitin’ for this cunt all fuckin’ day.”

Your underwear is tugged down and discarded before you can blink, leaving you naked and high on the anticipation of it all. Your lungs are heaving, hands shaking as you will him to do something.

Declan sits back on his haunches, making a show of rolling up his sleeves. He looks so broad and commanding in his blue jeans with his shirt undone. He might be the one on his knees, but he’s definitely still in charge here.

You tangle your fingers into his dark hair and tug, pulling him closer.

“Please, Dec.”

“You sound so beautiful when ya beg.”

He grips your thighs tightly, ensuring they stay apart, as he leans in and presses kisses to any skin he can find.

“Don’t tease.”

“Or what, hmm? What are ya gonna do, sweetheart?”

“Stop it,” you chastise, head dropping back onto the cushions. “Please, baby.”

He chuckles before diving forwards, licking a stripe through your core. He wastes no time, tongue flicking over your clit like he’s done so many times before.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, fingers gripping his hair tightly. “Fuck, Declan.”

You’re convinced he enjoys this just as much as you do. He’ll eat you out for hours, never once expecting something in return - happy to feel you fall apart on his tongue again and again and again.

He knows exactly which spots will have you arching your back, how much pressure to use to have you writhing on the sofa cushions, where to put his hands to push you right over the edge. He can play you like a fiddle, observant and experienced.

His nose nudges your clit as he fucks you with his tongue, messy and wet and completely committed. The grip he has on your thighs is getting tighter and tighter, fingertips bruising your skin. You pray you’ll be able to see the marks when you look in the mirror tomorrow.

You’re teetering on the edge of your release, legs shaking and abdomen tightening. Declan can read you like a book, knowing exactly where you’re at - and taking advantage of it.

Just as you’re about to come, he pulls away and sits back, grinning like a deviant.

“No,” you’re panting. “The fuck are you doing?”

He laughs, leaning down to rest his head on your leg. He looks up at you with a gaze that’s half lust and half mischief, biting at his lip as he watches your chest heave.

“What do you want, darlin’?”

You pout at him, tears welling in your eyes.

“Come on, let me hear you say it. I want you to beg me to make you come. Tell me how you’ve been waiting for it all day, sweetheart.”

“I-Declan, I just-”

“Come on smart girl, use that big brain of yours. Why don’t you tell me all about how you think about me when you touch yourself? No - why don’t you tell me how you think about me while he fucks you?”

Your hips buck up into the air, desperate for any kind of friction. Declan laughs cruelly, wrapping his arms around your thighs again to pull you to the edge of the sofa, the strength he exerts only turning you on more.

“It’s okay,” he soothes against your core. “You don’t have to tell me. Your dripping wet cunt tells me everything I need to know, darlin.”

All you can do is moan, breathing like you’ve run a marathon. All you can see, all you can hear, all you can feel is Declan O’Hara.

“If we had the time, I’d edge you some more. Eat you out until you cried. You always look so pretty when you’re crying f’me.”

He finally takes pity on you, curling his tongue inside you as his nose repeatedly bumps against your clit. He’s practically making out with your core, saliva dripping down your thighs and onto the sofa. You can’t bring yourself to care about the mess, more focused on the older man’s mouth and the skills it possesses.

You’re whining, fingernails digging into his scalp as you grasp for something to hold onto. He’s groaning too, having just as much as fun as you are.

“Come for me, pretty girl. Show me how fucking beautiful you look.”

Your back bows off the sofa as you grind against his face, riding out your climax. Your thighs tighten around his head, desperate for him to keep going for as long as possible.

“That’s it. Atta girl. There we go.”

You’re trying to catch your breath as Declan stands up, sitting down next to you and pulling you into his side. His fingers draw patterns on your hips, absentmindedly calming you down as you nestle into him, seeking out his body heat.

You lean up and kiss him, slipping your tongue into his mouth eagerly. He tastes like you, and the realisation makes you whinge.

“Let me return the favour, please,” you whisper against his lips.

“As much as I’d love that, darlin’… we can’t.”

You quirk a brow at him in confusion, his rejection more than unusual.

“It’s twenty past eight.”

“Oh, shit,” you groan, finding your underwear and pulling them up your legs.

“I wish I could stay,” he reassures as he kisses you again sweetly. “You know I do.”

You nod, running your fingers through his sweat soaked locks to move them out of his face.

“Promise I’ll repay you next time.”

“I’ll hold ya to that.”

The phone ringing startles you both, your heart jumping in your chest. You pick it up quickly, wrapping the cord around your finger.

“Hello? How are you? Ah, good. Yes, fine. Alright, I’ll see you then. Yes, see you soon. Mhmm… I can’t wait either.”

You put it down just as quickly as you picked it up, finding your dress from the floor and pulling it over your head.

“That was Patrick. He’s at the train station, about to start the drive back here. He won’t be long.”

“I best get going then,” Declan says as he buttons up his shirt. “Don’t need a family reunion in your living room now, do we?”

You shake your head, scoffing at his attempt at a joke. Walking him to the front door, you press his tie from the coat rack into his hand so he doesn’t forget it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, won’t I? You’re coming for lunch at the house?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you say as you lean up to kiss him, sighing at the taste of his lips. “I’ll wear that lacy white lingerie under my dress just for you.”

“Great,” he groans. “Now I have to think about my son seeing that on you when it should be me.”

“You might,” you tease, smoothing out his shirt. “There’s a lot of rooms in that house, Declan.”

“You’re a minx.”

He kisses you once more, big hands cradling your face as he pulls you in.

“See ya tomorrow, sweetheart.”

“Yes, you will.”

You watch him go from your front step, making sure no one sees him leave. As soon as he’s out of sight, you’re shutting the door, trying to tidy the living room frantically. You open the windows, lighting a candle and picking up everything that was knocked to the floor in the lust filled frenzy. You’re covering your tracks as best you can, just like you’ve done countless times before.

You don’t need Patrick asking why the room smells like his dad’s aftershave.

You don’t need Patrick asking questions at all.

a little gift for you, as promised…

@do-it-for-kicks @whytheylosttheirminds @laverna-fanfictions @graceflorence

and of course, if you enjoyed this - throw me a little reblog if you so wish… help a girl out… <3

[rejectedbytheempty]

from the dirt we rise ch. 2

pairing: farmer!john price x reader, no use of y/n

word count: 1.9k

cw: your boyfriend is an asshole, again

synopsis: when your car breaks down in the middle of the english countryside, a tall, dark stranger comes to your rescue

prev

when nathan got out of the car, you realized that this was actually the second time today that you had forgotten about him, too busy talking with john to remember your literal boyfriend a couple of feet away.

“this is the place?” nathan asked incredulously, “looks kind of busted up.”

you stiffened at his rudeness and were about to apologize when you heard john laugh, “yeah, this is the place, i keep telling them it could do with a paint job.”

you all walked over to the open garage doors and john yelled out, “soap, ghost, get your asses out here. you have customers.”

you heard a dull thunk, a grunt of pain and then looked down to the ground to see a man with a mohawk roll out from underneath a car. he rubbed his head to soothe the angry red spot now forming on his forehead but there was still a lopsided grin on his face and mischief sparkling in his bright blue eyes.

“cap’n, bringin’ us guests? you shouldnae ‘ave” he looked over at you and nathan, his grin growing a bit wider when he spotted you. “och, and who’s the lass?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows at john, who looked sternly at him, “soap, behave.”

soap just shrugged making john sigh, but he continued, “found her and her boyfriend on the side of the road, her car’s dead, told them you could fix it. oh, and that you’d give them a friends and family discount.”

he shook his head and you worried that he wouldn’t be willing to do the job, or that this apparent kinship to john didn’t extend to people he found on the side of the road. then he said, “wouldnae be right, makin’ a bonnie lass pay a cent.”

“johnny, you can’t give free repairs to every pretty girl that comes in, we’d go out of business,” said a man as he walked into the garage, wiping his hands with an oily cloth.

“simon, finally joining us, then?” john said. “had to order some parts,” simon shrugged. simon was huge, big muscles, even taller than john, he had close-cropped blonde hair and he wore a black surgical mask but it didn’t stop him from leaning over to kiss johnny on the head through the material. out of the corner of your eye, you saw nathan cringe slightly at this action, but maybe he just didn’t like pda, he had mentioned something a while ago about it grossing him out.

simon’s words broke you out of your thoughts and you turned back to him, he had asked something about if this had been a reoccurring issue.

“oh, no, this is the first time it’s done anything like this. sure, it’s not the best car, but it’s never up and gave up before.”

simon scratched his chin and nodded as you spoke, “you mind if i take a look then?” you shook your head, “go ahead,” and you handed him your keys.

“actually, i know some stuff about cars, think i could take a look with you?” nathan spoke up, making you raise an eyebrow.

“since when?” you said, making both johns laugh, and it even got a small chuckle out of simon.

nathan’s face went red, “i- i know plenty about cars, you don’t know everything i do.”

“come on then, maybe you can do my job for me” simon said, walking over and practically scruffing nathan, leading him towards your car.

“so you two were in the force with john?” i asked. the three of you had settled in the air-conditioned office of the repair shop and johnny had made you tea, despite your insistence on it being unnecessary.

“aye. me, lt, and cap’n were all on the same task force. until i almost got murked, that is.” soap emphasized this by pointing to the giant star-shaped scar that marked the side of his shaved head.

“lt retired then too, had to take care of my sorry ass for a long while. then cap’n retired too, moved here-“ “yeah, and you two followed me here, so you could keep being pains in my ass” john grumbled, but there was a hint of a smile on his face.

“he really does love us, ye ken?” johnny stage whispered to you. john just shook his head, his smile growing.

“so, that just leaves one o’ us still in the force, our boy gaz. he’s a lieutenant now, ugh, they grow up so fast” johnny wiped away a fake tear.

“he still visits us old folk from time to time,” john said to you which made soap practically squawk in protest.

“awa' an bile yer heid, i’m a spring chicken compared to you two old heads” he pointed at john and then outside the window where simon stood with nathan at the car, the latter looking very emasculated.

“john calls you soap, was that your nickname?” you asked, suddenly curious.

johnny grinned in response, his annoyance fading away, “aye, it’s an inside joke between us. sorry lass, i couldn’t tell you even under threat of torture.”

“hm, alright, well, do you all have nicknames? unless you’re not allowed to tell me that either” you cocked an eyebrow at him.

“och, ye found yourself a feisty bird, price,” soap laughed as he looked over at john.

“she’s not mine, remember?” he looked pointedly at johnny.

“aye, i do now. she’s with that weird looking fellow?” johnny said with such seriousness that it made you burst out into laughter, even if it was making fun of your boyfriend.

“oh god, i shouldn’t be laughing, that is so mean” you said between giggles which made soap smirk,

“he could do with being knocked down a peg or two. the bell above the door rung as nathan stepped inside, quickly followed by simon, “speaking of” soap murmured, his face shifting into a scowl.

“bad news, babe, he said it would take at least three days to fix the problem since we’d have to order a part from somewhere else,” nathan grumbled.

your face fell, “oh no, but what about the dinner with your parents?”

he shrugged, “i don’t know, i’m gonna have to call them or something.” you bit your lip, “right, okay. ugh, i’m sorry, i know you were looking forward to it.” “i knew we should’ve taken my car” he practically spat out, and you just barely stopped yourself from reminding him he insisted on taking your car.

“you could take my truck?” john offered and your gaze softened as you looked over at him, “that’s really nice of you-“ “we are not taking that thing to my parents’, it’s probably worse off than her car and we’ll be back to square one. let’s find a hotel or something and stay there until we figure something out.”

nathan apparently didn’t notice the cutting glares that both simon and johnny were giving him, not liking that someone was disrespecting their captain.

“you’re shit out of luck then, not gonna find a hotel anywhere around here” simon said, his voice had gotten lower, if that was possible, almost a growl. john looked between the two men, something in his eyes somehow conveying for them to back down because they settled slightly.

“you two can stay at my place until the car is fixed,” john turned to face nathan, “if that isn’t going to be a problem?” nathan glanced between the three men, who all stared patiently at him, almost like they were stalking their prey and waiting for the moment to strike.

“that would be fine” he said after a moment’s consideration, making john smile, his angry countenance fading away like clouds passing in front of the sun.

simon and johnny decided to close up shop early and drive with us to john’s house, figuring they could stay for dinner as well. plus, someone needed to drive nathan, otherwise he’d be stuck in the bed of the truck with all the other things simon had unloaded from your car. however, nathan did insist that you rode with him this time, him sitting in the front of simon’s car, you in the backseat and simon driving.

“so, what was your nickname on the force?” you broke the silence.

he eyed you through the rear view mirror, raising an eyebrow, “who said i had one?”

you fidgeted with your hands, worried you’d upset him, “well, i guess i shouldn’t have assumed but since johnny had one, i thought you all would.”

he just laughed, “sorry, love, just messing with you. i did have one, callsign was ghost.”

“ghost? hell kind of name is that?” nathan asked from the passenger seat.

“means you’d never see me coming” simon growled out, making nathan flinch slightly.

he laughed nervously, “that’s.. that’s a joke right?” simon just glanced at him, eyeing him up and down, and then turning back to the road. nathan didn’t say anything else for the rest of the ride.

when simon turned onto john’s property, your mouth practically hung open. it was beautiful, like out of a story book. a two story english farm house with aged bricks, half engulfed by vines and surrounded by lush gardens. simon chuckled and you realized in an embarrassing moment that he was laughing at you and your dazed, open expression.

quickly, you shut your mouth with your hand and cleared your throat, “it’s, um, it’s a beautiful place, is all.” you stepped out of the car, after simon opened the door for you (who knew he was such a gentleman) and watched as john did the same.

“it’s gorgeous” you remarked to him, fairly certain you still had a starry-eyed look to your face.

he just shrugged, “could do with some work, for sure” but even through the dismissive comment, you could tell he was proud of his home.

turning back, you saw nathan, sour-faced. you let out a small sigh, ‘can’t wait to find out what that’s about,’ you thought, grimly.

“i’ll get yer bags for ye” johnny said, an impish grin on his face, making you wonder if he was going to go snooping in your stuff but you just thanked him and watched as he disappeared into the house.

“i’ll go make sure he behaves” simon said gruffly, following after him. you did notice that johnny had specifically only grabbed your bags, leaving nathan to contend with his own, and in the deepest part of your mind, that made you just a little happy. you shook that thought away, ‘no, that’s your boyfriend, do not laugh at him.’

he pushed past you, grumbling something about these men all being assholes, pausing every so often to shift the bags in his grip.

“think he needs help?” john asked, startling you slightly. you didn’t even notice him walking up even though he was standing right next to you.

“oh! uh, maybe, but he’ll be fine. he can handle it” you said, and then flushed slightly, “i’m sorry, that was mean.”

john just chuckled, “sweetheart, i don’t think you have a mean bone in your body.”

that made you flush even more, hiding your face by turning your head slightly, “i wouldn’t say that, exactly, but thank you.”

you froze slightly when he put his hand on your waist, “ready to go inside? or you gonna keep staring at the outside for a couple more hours.”

“right, yeah, let’s go in, sorry.” you tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered in your chest as he used his arm behind your back to guide you towards the house. christ, this was looking to be a long day.

a/n: ok yay!!! pt. 2!! haven’t written this much in a long time ngl 😭 yet again, no beta reader, so this is very much unedited, sorry. really wish i could’ve put gaz in this but it didn’t really make sense that he would retire as well :/ but maybe he’ll make an appearance later!! i’ll think of smth..

tag list: @the-disaster-in-waiting

@night-girl-301

@darkangel4121

[incorrectmarvelquotesss]

— it’s the little things —

Warnings: fluff, some angst

Summary: There’s some harder questions to answer about Jason.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Female Reader

A/N: An idea that popped up when I couldn’t answer a niece’s question about her father’s job (he’s a firefighter). Enjoy!

"Momma, why doesn't daddy smile a lot?" He looked up at you, his young face serious, as if pondering some profound thought.

Six year old Owen was sitting at the dining table, a picture book sprawled open in front of him. While he often asked about Jason’s “work”, this time his questioning took a different turn.

You looked at him, your movements slowing down as you mulled over your answer. “He does, baby. He smiles when you play with him, remember?” You turned the tap on, washing off the soap on the plate.

Owen shrugged, his young mind processing the answer, his fingers idly tracing the pictures in the open book.

“But it's not like yours,” he pointed out. The pure innocence and simplicity of his remark struck at your heart. He looked back up at you, his eyes curious and childlike. “Why aren't his smiles like yours? You smile a lot.”

You tilted your head a bit. “Wanna explain a bit?” You asked gently, trying to both pry into his question and buy yourself time to find a good answer for him.

Owen thought for a moment, his young mind struggling to put his thoughts into words. He was quiet as he looked at the picture book, then back at you.

He finally spoke, his voice filled with innocence and curiosity. “Daddy's smiles are different. They're small and quick, like he's not really happy.”

He paused, his little brow furrowing as he continued. “Your smiles are big and warm. It's like you're really, really happy,” he added with lilt in his tone as if he thought it was his fault somehow.

You hummed in a contemplative manner. “I guess he does do those quick smiles, doesn’t he?” You were still stalling. You knew Owen had questions about his father, but you didn’t think you’d get this question while Jason was out for evening patrol.

You turned off the tap. Owen nodded, his gaze still fixed on you.

“Yeah... and he doesn't laugh often either, like you do when you watch funny movies.” His small lips pursing as if in thought. “Why is that, momma? Why does daddy laugh and smile less than you do?”

You started drying the dishes, thinking over your answer before you said something that wouldn’t make sense to a six year old. “He’s… not unhappy, Owen. He’s just…” you trailed off, searching for the right words.

You found it hard to find the right words to explain the complexity of Jason’s emotional state to an innocent and curious child.

“Just…?” Owen prompted, his young eyes fixed on you, silently urging you to continue.

You looked down at the dishes for a moment, prolonging your next words. “You know how he tells you about those adventures he goes on during work?” You breathed in deeply as Owen’s eyes lit up.

Owen nodded, his interest piqued. “Yeah, the ones where he's a super cool hero who beats up the bad guys.”

You hummed in agreement. “Sometimes, there’s bad people who hurt good people,” you started slowly, watching his reaction to your carefully crafted words. “And sometimes, your daddy can’t help all of them get better.”

Owen's expression turned pensive, his young mind trying to grasp the concept. His little fingers traced the same picture in the open book, as if trying to make sense of the world.

He looked back up at you, his voice soft. “Why can't daddy help them all get better, momma?”

“Because he can’t be everywhere all at once, right?” You put away the last plate and wiped your hands on a towel before sitting down on the kitchen island stool beside Owen.

Owen nodded, his young mind slowly processing your words. He was quiet for a moment, his gaze again fixed on the picture book in front of him.

Then, looking up at you, he spoke, his voice soft and a hint of concern in his eyes. "Does that make daddy sad? That he can't help everybody?"

You nodded. “It does, baby,” you confirmed with a gentle yet sad smile. “It makes him sad, but then he comes home to us and we make him feel better.” You raked a hand through his dark hair gently.

Owen's face softened at your touch, leaning slightly into your hand. He looked up at you, his eyes now filled with a mixture of understanding and love.

He nodded silently, his tiny hand reaching out to hold yours for a moment. The weight of your words seemed to sink in, his young mind grappling with the reality of his father's job and the complicated emotions it brought about.

“Your momma’s right,” Jason’s voice came from behind. Both you and Owen looked over to the doorway to see Jason standing there, leaning against the doorframe, his tired eyes observing the two of you.

Owen brightened visibly at the sight of his father, his usual energetic self returning momentarily. “Daddy! You're home early!”

Jason pushed off the doorframe and approached you both, his weariness momentarily replaced by a hint of warmth as he looked at Owen. He spoke, his rough voice slightly hoarse. “Yeah, buddy. Patrol wrapped up a bit earlier than expected.”

His eyes darted to you for a brief moment, eyes conveying his appreciation for your way of explaining his feelings in a way he couldn’t himself comprehend.

“You kicked some bad guys' butts, right, daddy?”Owen smiled widely, his innocent excitement at seeing his father evident. He looked up at Jason with a sense of admiration that only a child could feel.

Jason grinned, albeit a bit strained. He ruffled Owen’s hair. “Heck yeah, I did.”

[shanastoryteller]

Dean’s minding his own business, sipping on a beer and leering at the bartender, when a guy that admittedly has about four inches and a good twenty pounds of muscle on him storms over and shoves him in the arm.

He tenses, getting to his feet and preparing for a fight even as he’s wondering what he did to piss him off. Maybe the bartender’s his girl? Jesus, Dean was just looking, he can’t get mad at just looking when his girl look likes that.

“Dude, what the hell?” the guy demands. “I know you’re pissed at me right now, but just leaving me back there – do you know how many bars it took to find you? You’re a jackass.”

He’s not taking a swing, instead standing with crossed arms – fuck, this guy is huge, he’d really like to avoid a fight here – and scowling at him, his long hair falling into his eyes as he looks down at him. Dean wishes he had any idea what was going on right now. “Look, man, relax.” The guy’s eyes narrow, his shoulders lifting and expanding as he takes in a deep breath, as if he needs any help to look bigger. Before he can say anything, Dean adds, “I think you’ve got me confused with someone else.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay. Fuck off.” He presses his lips together, somehow appearing smaller in the next moment without actually moving. “Look, I know you’re mad about heaven, you’ve made that pretty fucking clear, but you can’t just walk off and turn off your phone. I figured you were just being an ass, but something could have happened to you. If you’re ignoring me, at least let me know you’re ignoring me.”

The guy doesn’t look like he’s tweaking, or suffering some sort of head injury. His eyes are clear and his voice is steady. But Dean has no idea what he’s talking about. “Dude, you’ve really got me confused with someone else.”

“Dean!” he snaps, which woah, okay, he wasn’t expecting that. “This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not laughing,” he says. “How do you know my name?”

He stares at him, uncertainty entering his eyes for the first time. “Are you feeling okay? You didn’t come across Zachariah or a witch or something in the past couple hours?”

He doesn’t know who Zachariah is, but the casual mention of witches makes him frown. Is this guy a hunter or something? He figures he’d remember meeting him, but maybe not.

“Everything okay over here?” Dad’s hand lands heavily on his shoulder, and Dean shifts enough to see him giving the guy a hard stare that has sent more than one man running in the other direction.

Dean almost rolls his eyes – he’s thirty one years old, he doesn’t need his dad coming over to save him – but he makes the effort so rarely that Dean can’t help but be warmed by it.

The guy pales, mouth dropping open as he stares at Dad like he’s seen a ghost. “You – Christo.”

Okay, definitely a hunter. Dad raises an eyebrow. “I’m not a demon.”

The guy grabs for Dean, yanking on his hand. Dean jerks back, but he’s already gotten his long fingers around his ring. He pulls it off and Dean is about to break his jaw to get it back, but he tosses it to Dad, who catches it on instinct. Dean doesn’t get it until he does. His ring is silver. He’s checking if Dad is a shifter, which okay, that’s one thing. Dean’s more concerned about how he knows his ring is silver. The guy’s voice cracks when he says, “Dad?”

Dad raises an eyebrow. “I think you’re a little confused.”

“Dean, what’s going on?” he asks, grabbing onto the sleeve of his jacket. Dean should push him off. “What,” his gaze drops down, and if possible he goes even paler. “Oh. Oh, fuck.”

Dean looks down, sees the guy’s eyes stuck on his amulet. “What?”

“I don’t understand,” he says, biting on his lower lip. “Is this some sort of – but you’re still hunters. Is Mom alive?”

Dean flinches.

“Okay,” Dad says. “That’s enough. You walk this off or whatever, but you do it somewhere else–”

“Dad, it’s me,” he says plaintively. “It’s Sam. Your son.”

Dean doesn’t remember moving, only that the next moment his hands are fisted in the front of this asshole’s shirt, his blood thrumming under his skin. “Shut up. Shut the fuck up.”

He puts his hands on Dean’s wrists, stupid earnest and soft and Dean’s going to kick his ass. “Dean. It’s me. I have to exist in this world, right? The demon was after me, if I wasn’t here then there wouldn’t have ben a fire, Mom wouldn’t have died, you guys wouldn’t be hunters. I have to be around somewhere.”

Dean tries to shove him away, but he won’t let go of his hands. “Shut up! You don’t – don’t talk about my family.”

The worst thing he ever did, his biggest failure. Sometimes the weight of it gets to be so heavy that it feels like it should be cracking his ribs, pressing his heart until it bursts. Sometimes he wishes it would.

He swallows before letting go with one hand and reaching into his pocket to pull something out. It takes Dean a moment to see it’s his amulet, the one he’s worn since he was twelve years old, back when Bobby still talked to them. “My name is Samuel Winchester. I was named after my mother’s father. I was born on May 2, 1983. When I was eight years old, Bobby gave me this amulet. He said it was a protection charm. I was originally planning to give it to Dad for Christmas, but he didn’t show up. Another in a long line of disappointments, right? So I gave it to you instead. Because even when you’re being a jerk, you’ve never let me down.”

Dean’s eyes are burning. He tries to shake off his grip, but he won’t let go. Why is Dad just standing there? “Stop! Stop. I don’t know what game you’re playing–”

“No game,” he says, gentle voice a counterpoint to the grip that’s absolutely going to bruise. “I need you to believe me, Dean, please–”

“My brother died when he was six months old,” he cuts him off. “Samuel Winchester is dead. He’s been dead for twenty six years.”

His fault, his fault, all his fault. If he’d just listened to Dad –

“Not where I’m from,” he says, and it’s crazy, it’s all crazy. “Please. Ask me anything. I’ll prove it. Hell, let’s go to a clinic, we can take a DNA test. I’m Sam. I’m your brother. And I need your help.”

“You mentioned a demon,” Dad says quietly.

The guy, who’s not Sam, who can’t be Sam, tears his eyes away from Dean to look at Dad. “Yeah. Azazel. The yellow eyed demon.”

Dad rubs a hand over his mouth. “I never told anyone about that.”

Dean snaps his head towards Dad. “What? You said you didn’t know what killed Mom! That we were searching for it!”

“We are,” Dad says. “It never resurfaced again. I’ve been looking for the signs.”

The guy frowns. “He started up again when I was twenty two.”

“Not here,” Dad says, looking him up and down, something hungry in his eyes.

Dad believes him. Dad thinks that this is Sammy.

“Let’s discuss this back at the room,” Dad says. “Come on.”

He heads towards the door, sure that he’s going to be followed. The – Sam, maybe Sam, he rolls his eyes, but goes after him. He only stops when his grip on Dean’s wrist jerks him back, because Dean’s not moving, can’t make himself move. He flushes, letting go of Dean finally, but he takes a step closer. His eyebrows pull together in concern, and now that Dean’s looking, he sort of sees it, sees the planes of Dad’s face and his eyes in this stranger with his brother’s name. “Hey, are you okay?”

No.

“Let’s go,” he says, striding forward, shoulders hunched.

Sam falls into step beside him easily, matching his strides like it’s second nature. Dean swallows around the lump in his throat and tries to pretend it means nothing.

[mossyscavern]

Not spies, just a bit incompetent.

_________________________

“Now, are you spies? Or just incompetent! Lackeys!”

The winged bot asked, leaning forward with a harsh yell as red optics flared. “Whoa, we’re not spies.” Orion ushered, servos up. “But he is incompetent.” Elita adds.

“Scanning electrical impulses: he speaks, the truth.” The bot with the face guard and yellow visor states after scanning-. ‘Is that bee?! Why’s that mech holding bee?!’ Orion thought, worry coursing through him.

“That just means he believes himself, like any spy would.” He states, leaning against the other armrest of the throne. “Hmh! M! M! Mh!” Bee tries to say, kicking his peds excitedly, but thanks to the treat he’s eating, he can’t talk.

Orion’s glad that he’s alright.. but he still can’t help but worry about the young sparkling. “Uhm.. Why is he holding him..? Is that an energon treat?” Elita-1 asks, pointing and threatening.

And from the looks of it, D really doesn’t like how they’re holding bee, judging by the obvious death stare. “He wouldn’t stop talking.” The one eyed mech explains. “Even when he was unconscious?” She wondered, optic ridge raise-.

“WE DIDN’T KNOCK OUT A SPARKLING!!!” He shouts stomping his ped, sounding offended by her question.

“Enough. Two options for you, 1: we slowly dismantle each of you, one bolt and screw at a time! And really make sure you feel it for potential kidnapping.” He says, listing off one of the two options with a scowl.

“Or 2: in exchange for a quick death, you give us intel on the energon trains, access to the mines or anything else that could hurt your boss, Sentinel Prime.” He threatens, darkening his optics more towards the three.

D-16 darkens his optics, not entirely trusting any of them.. especially with the sparkling in their arms. “Who exactly are you?” Elita asks.

Bee ate the energon treat more quickly now, trying to finish it in 20 seconds. “Wait!! Not too quickly!” The one eyed mech warned, too little too late by the time bee finished the cube.

“The cybertronian! *hic* high *hic* guard!” Bee says, hiccuping as he spoke. “*sighs* I told him not to eat it quickly.” The mech sighs, shaking his hexagonal helm fondly, handing an energon drink to the sparkling.

“Prestigious *hic* defenders of *hic* Iacon. *hic* prest-*hic*-igious?” Bee asks, hiccuping each word, then drank the energon and thanked them.

“Right. I read all about you in the archives. You were the most legendary warriors in all of Cybertron.” Orion exclaims, pointedly before remembering a very important detail about them. ‘They’ll always protect our young.’ He thought.

“Look, look! There’s starscream! Shockwave! The bot carrying me is Soundwave!” he exclaims, pointing to each main three before raising his hand.

“Hey, are all of you named wave? There’s a lot of waves” bee asked, getting an answer from shockwave’s shaking head.

“Silence!” Starscream shouts. “The young spark is correct.” The seeker states, giving bee a smile when he celebrated. “We were once the High Guard,” he starts, leaning back on the throne.

“We witnessed Sentinel’s Betrayal, saw the Primes fall. Ever since then, we’ve been fighting from the shadows to sabotage Sentinel.”

“That’s great! We’re also-.” Orion was about to stand before a multitude of weapons are levelled to his face. “Woah, okay! We’re good, relax, we’re all friends here. I just wanted to say that we’re all allies here.”

“Hah! Yeah right, like we’d believe the bots that probably kidnap the sparkling.” Starscream stood up, screaming in rage at the last bit, making everybot quiet… all but a small voice broke the silence.

“… what?”

_________________________

I’m… making this one a 2 parter.

1: I like to make these things short and sweet so it’s not too overwhelming. 2: … I can’t fit in some of moments from the movie and pair it with the baby au.. like that fight scene between D-16 and starscream.

I got permission to write this from @yuukirita … and here’s their art and writing for the inspiration -> high guard and the baby please go check it out.

[alkaline-wtr]

Dirty Talk 141 Head-cannon

Description: How I imagine the boys would feel about dirty talk. Warnings/Genres: 141 x fem!reader, smut, blowjob, fingering, pwp, head-cannon WC:742

** A bit rough but I just wanted to get this up. Enjoy.

Soap: Johnny enjoys dirty talk so much, in fact, he does most of the talking. While you lie on your back pinned into the mattress by his body weight, he spews a string of praises through heavy pants and grunts. Needily bucking his hips into you.

"You like that, huh, feeling me inside you? You feel so good Darlin'. So wet for me, yeah?"

Each sentence comes out as breathy whines. The words nearly caught in his throat as he struggled to keep a steady rhythm. You feel Johnny's length deep with each sloppy thrust.

"Fuck,"

He whimpers,

"I'm getting close darlin’ you just drive me crazy every time."

You could hardly get a word in if you wanted, but you don't mind much.

Gaz: For Kyle, dirty talk is useless and unproductive. He doesn’t care to hear your filthy mewls when your mouth is better suited for other activities.

His 'Shut up and take it' attitude leads him to find any way he can think to keep your tongue occupied, whether it's giving you a couple of slender fingers to suck on or guiding you to your knees the moment you start to speak.

Your eyes ogle the spot of his muscular chest where your palm is splayed out.

“Don’t speak baby, just use that pretty little mouth of yours to show me how you feel huh?”

No more needed to be said, you're eagerly taking his cock into your mouth, coating it in your saliva so your hand glides along his shaft with ease.

You can’t help but gaze up at Kyle through your glassy eyes to watch as he bites back moans. A hand holding a fist full of your hair to make sure the tip of his cock reaches the back of your throat.

"See Darlin'?"

He grumbled. Words weren’t necessary when the gargled moans that vibrated around him were validating enough.

Simon: It's not that he doesn't like dirty talk, but rather, he uses it as a form of measurement for his performance.

After all, if you're able to form anything more than strangled moans and incoherent babbling, slipping curses out under your breath about how good it feels to have his cock buried deep inside your sopping cunt, or how hungrily he laps at your overstimulated clit, then he just isn't doing well enough.

His only goal is to have you shaking with beads of sweat glistening over your soft skin. Your mind is too clouded by ecstasy to remember your own name. Words were just that, a meter to indicate your level of pleasure in that given moment.

"Oh, Simon,"

you exhale.

"Feels good."

Your content hum was too stable for him. He picks up the pace, two of his knuckles pressing deeper into you, curling in time with his thumb that circles your clit.

The gasp you let out as you squirm against his palm is reassuring to him. It isn't much longer that you try and speak again, Driving Simon to add another finger, fucking into your bucking hips so hard that you can't help but close your eyes and grip the sheet. The only noise left in the room besides the wet squelching of your tight cunt, is the squeals of pleasure replacing your intended pleas.

Price: John is his own type of animal, his tip just barely nuzzled against your heat. You can squirm and whimper all you want,

"You'll have ta use your words, sweetheart."

He teases,

"Please, please. I just need to feel you already I can't take it anymore."

Your pussy aches and throbs with the need to release. It's been almost an hour of this. John edges you for as long as it takes, only continuing when he deems your begging and pleading to be satisfactory.

"Come on sweetheart you can do better than that."

The mischievous chuckle that follows frustrates you even more. For an older man, he seemed to have a little too much patience and stamina for this type of thing. And your guess was as good as anyone's on what he wanted to hear for you to finally cum.

Still, you continue to try, fighting through the overstimulation. You weren't sure if your jumbled words had met his standards or if maybe he just pitied you seeing the tears forming in your water line. But he leaves you writhing and screaming out his name as you ride out your most intense orgasm yet.

[subcultureblues]

Don’t You Want Me (Baby?) Pt 3

———

Steve and Eddie are either hooking up or dating - and are about as bad at keeping a secret as they are dealing with their feelings. (Dustin POV)

1 / 2 / 3

———

“I’ll be there in thirty!” Dustin said. He slammed the phone down and dashed to his room to round up his notes.

“Bye mom love you gotta go!” He shouted as he hustled out the door and jumped on his bike. Dustin had just made it out of the suburbs and into town when he spotted a familiar Maroon Beemer in the lot by the Quickie Mart.

Steve was standing beside his car in a fluorescent windbreaker, leaning on the open driver’s side door. He was staring at the bouquet of flowers in his hands like his nose was about to start bleeding.

Dustin slowed.

….He could probably spare a few minutes to see what the hell that was about.

Really, it’s been a while since Dustin made peace with the fact his curiosity would almost invariably get the best of him.

“Hey Steve!” Dustin hollared, dinging his bike bell a few times.

Steve startled, comically jerking to attention. As a thoroughbred jock, Steve could be ever so slightly air-headed at times. But that usually didn’t extend to a total lack of situational awareness.

Steve waved at Dustin as he approached.

“Why are you angry at those flowers?”

“What? I’m not - “ Steve cut himself off with a sigh. He shot the flowers another grimace. “I’m just trying to decide if I’m being a total idiot right now…”

Ah, Dustin realized. Must have pissed off Robin.

“What happened?”

“I fucked up, I think. And flowers, that’s my go-to right? That’s the move. But…” he tapped above his temple with the side of his fist - as if to dislodge the stupid. He rested it there for a second. “I can’t help but think I’m becoming totally neurotic.” He said, vaguely concerned.

“Girls like flowers.” Dustin offered a simple shrug.

“Yeah, girls do.” Steve agreed. Then sighed again, shaking his head.

Jesus, he must be gone bad.

And Dustin likes Robin. More importantly, he liked her for Steve, they were a perfect match. But most importantly of all - if Steve fucks this up, Dustin spends the next who knows how long listening to him complain about his endless strings of unfulfilling dates.

“And red roses? Can’t get more romantic than that, right?” He said, trying to sound encouraging.

“You don’t think they’re… I don’t know. Lame? Christ, what the hell am I even - I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing here.” Steve said, sounding totally defeated. He dragged a hand through his hair, displacing his artfully styled do. And too distracted to even notice? Dustin was very nearly starting to get worried. “Never mind forget it. Just, forget I said anything…”

“Who even is this guy? Your Steve.” Dustin scoffed. “Legendary lady killer of Hawkins High. Remember? You’re great at this.”

““Yeah, that’s different though. I guess... I don’t know.”

“Different how?” Dustin demanded.

“How about because this is important. That’s how!” He said.

“Ok? That’s a good thing, Steve.” Dustin said, which even to his own ears sounded just a little bit demeaning. Maybe he did need to work on his tone…

“Is it? The last time I really thought there might be something there, it was Nancy. So of course, I manage to fuck the whole thing up. Because that’s my thing I guess.” He deflated. Then quietly, as though speaking to himself, he said. “Things were going so good too… I just had to start a stupid - “

He finally looked back up at Dustin. He closed his mouth and the far away look cleared. He shook his head, like was done thinking about it right now. Or at least done talking about it because he said,

“Henderson, what are you doing running around this early anyways?”

“Pft, what are you doing running around this early? You and Eddie. I’m surprised you’re not sleeping off your… illicit activities.”

Steve made a face. “No. Don’t call it that. I - we… called it an early night last night.”

“Figures. I’m headed to Eddie’s right now.”

“Ah...” He muttered to himself. He looked down at the flowers again and his shoulders wilted. Then he chucked them into the the passenger seat.

“Woah, man, careful with those.” Dustin scolded him.

“No, it’s fine. Look, I gotta go pick up Robin soon. We have a shift together later. See you around, man.”

Dustin frowned. Why were adults so goddamn weird? Is Dustin gonna start acting like this in a few years.

“Good luck.” Dustin offered, tilting his head optimistically. Steve just waved him off, still very obviously distracted.

“Yeah, I’ll figure something out.”

Dustin watched him climb into his car. Steve would figure it out. Dustin had faith in that, at least. He could have a thick skull, but give him enough time and eventually he got it together.

Steve drove off and Dustin started pedaling again, in the opposite direction, towards the Forest Hills trailer park.

Dustin was at the trailer almost till dinner time, fine tuning what will soon be the very first one shot, nay the very first D&D session Dustin will ever orchestrate. He can’t help violently oscillating between excited and nauseous, but Eddie’s advice genuinely did provide a solid foundation to work with.

Eddie even assured Dustin he’d act just as shocked as the rest of the party, gasping during the big moments. Stuff like that - even though he knew pretty much every story beat he had planned just from helping Dustin sort it all together.

They were just packing up to leave when the phone rang.

“Shit. Give me a sec. That’s probably Wayne.”

“He’s not at work?”

“A buddie’s house. He got the weekend off.” Eddie said, picking up the receiver.

“Munson’s Mortuary Services. You got the purse, we got the hearse. Are we picking up or dropping off, cause - ” Eddie cut out mid bit. He grimaced, looking back at Dustin. “I - uh, hey. Look this really isn’t a good - “

Dustin was only really half ease dropping as he tried to order his session notes correctly. Eddie was talking quietly for the first time in his life, holding the receiving close to his mouth, which was making it kind of difficult.

“No, it’s fine… I’m serious, it’s fine. Yeah, I’m sorry too…. Well, I was being an asshole. Look this really isn’t a good time…” Eddie glanced back over his shoulder at Dustin. Dustin tried to look busy. “Just, don’t worry about it, seriously…. Yeah. Sure, talk to you later, ok?” Eddie started to move the phone away before bringing it back to his ear.

“This week? I’m not sure… Maybe. I’ve just - I got a lot of stuff going on… I’ll call you… Yeah, bye.”

Eddie hung up, hand lingering on the phone for a long moment.

“Who was that?” Dustin asked, so casually it was probably immediately suspicious.

“Funny how you think I won’t make you walk home.” Eddie said, a bone dry threat. That roughly translated to, it was definitely totally my secret girlfriend. “Pack your shit, dude. I’m calling Wayne so you better be ready to go by the time I’m done.”

It seemed like Eddie took it to heart what Dustin said about them never hanging out anymore. That week, Eddie really seemed to be making an effort to start making time for him again.

And the rest of the party of course.

On Monday, Eddie suggested Hellfire (plus Max!) hit the arcade after school. He didn’t give them any quarters, but that was fine, they had enough loose change to have a good time. They’d just need to plan ahead and bring Steve next time.

After school on Tuesday, Dustin called to see if Eddie wanted to keep working on the one shot. Which he couldn’t cause Corroded Coffin had band practice.

So instead, he invited Dustin tag along. It came with the strict stipulation he kept his mouth shut, his ass glued to the couch, and he not try to touch anything, on pain of a swift and merciless death. But Dustin’s come to understand Eddie’s threats have a lot more to do with his penchant for dramatics than any honest hostility.

Eddie was just heading out the door when Dustin called so he said he’d come grab him from his place on the way to Jeff’s.

Dustin thought for a moment about changing out of his pun-derful shirt but ended up scrapping the idea for time.

He kind of regretted it when Eddie rolled up. Music loud and looking, as always, too cool for school. Summer was still fading, so he was wearing a loose, faded Cult shirt with the sleeves cut off. He had more tattoos than Dustin realized (all of them ugly.). There was a red flannel tied round his waist and he was wearing a thin leather bracelet.

Dustin couldn’t pull off a leather bracelet in a million billion years probably.

“Little mans sitting in on practice tonight.” Eddie announced as they walked into Jared’s garage. He got a scatter of hey’s and what’s up’s.

Dutifully, Dustin belined it for the couch. He sat next to the plastic Halloween skeleton that was already sitting there posed to watch (Dustin was introduced to him as Manny).

Eddie seemed to switch into DM mode, someone had to keep the boys focused and on track.

Dustin sat still and didn’t touch anything, which was easy enough.

But come on, their music was way too awesome for a passive listening experience.

Gareth, Jared, and Jeff seemed to appreciate his enthusiasm. Still, Dustin made sure to keep distractions to a minimum. A reasonable minimum, at least.

“God, you guys are just so - “ Dustin rambled. It had gotten dark outside and they were started to pack up their gear.

“Metal?” Eddie said, winding up his guitar chord with a smile.

“Metal as hell.” Dustin agreed, standing and walking over.

“We’ll make a public menace outta you yet.” Eddie said proudly.

“You can always bring the kid around more during practice.” Jeff said to Eddie. The rest of the band nodded around and shrugged.

“Actually having a live audience every once in a while couldn’t hurt.” Gareth said, nodding his head at Manny. Him and Jeff were dragging his drum kit back into the corner of the room.

“Yeah?” Dustin asked, grinning.

“Maybe you’ll pick up a thing or two.” Eddie grinned back, shoving at him a bit and fucking up Dustin’s hair.

“You’d teach me?” Dustin asked, swatting him away. Eddie shrugged easily.

“Oh man. That’d be so cool!” He said. “Maybe next time I could bring some of the other guys? Oh, and Steve could come too!”

Jared practically choked on his instant laughter.

“The King?” He said sarcastically. “Yeah, sure - you wanna bring King Steve here, to sit on the ratty couch in my garage and listen to us thrash around and scream for a few hours?”

“I dunno, could be pretty entertaining.” Gareth elbowed Jeff, nodding down towards Eddie. He was on his knees, focusing intently on tucking his Warlock away in its hardcase. Gareth leaned in closer and whispered. “He’s getting a little too cocky with those guitar solos, don’t you think? Could use a chance to play under pressure.”

“Oh, that does sound entertaining.” Jeff snickered, just as amused by the prospect.

“Can it.” Eddie said, without looking up.

“Eddie?” Dustin insisted, looking to his DM for backup. They were talking like Steve was gonna march in here and just start heckling. Or throwing tomatoes at them or something.

“Sorry kid, they’re right. He’d probably hate it.” Eddie shrugged.

“Come on, it’ll be cool! I could at least ask? You don’t know he’ll hate it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Steve Harrington would think our heavy metal band is so totally cool.” Jared said flatly, as he leaned over to grab the handle on his bass amp.

“Hey. I saw a Metallica tape in his car the other day!” Dustin said to Jared. Jared’s eyebrows climbed, surprised. Maybe even a little impressed, though clearly too stubborn to admit it.

Dustin turned back to Eddie. He was still expecting him to come to Steve’s defense. But he stayed quiet, barely a part of the conversation. “Come on, I thought you two were friends now.” He accused.

“Sure, Harrington’s fine.” Eddie shrugged.

“Yeah he is.” Jeff muttered under his breath. Gareth puffed up with a badly contained laugh.

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Right, you blow us all off to go to go smoke weed with him at the drive through, but he’s just fine.”

Jared, who had been bending over to put his amp against the wall, froze in place.

“No fucking way.” Gareth’s head shot up, his eyes blown wide. But it didn’t sound like he was pissed at Eddie for crossing party lines. Not with the massive, disbelieving grin on his face. “You and Harrington? You fucking took him to a drive through?”

“What movie was it?” Jeff shot out, equally delighted.

“Was it a scary movie?” Gareth said. They both scrambled out from behind the drum set, their task wholly forgotten.

“Guys.” Eddie huffed. “Fine. Yeah, ok, we went to go see a movie - So what?”

“And you just, what!? Forgot to mention it?”

“Sure!” Eddie grimaced. He shrugged defensively. “We just - caught a movie. It’s not a big deal.”

Gareth barked out a laugh. Like that, that right there, is the funniest thing Eddie’s ever said.

“Guys.” Jared looked at Jeff and Gareth pointedly, before glancing at Dustin.

“Sorry it’s just…” Jeff paused with his mouth open, incredulous. “Didn’t know you guys hang out now.” He finished. “Ya know, outside the whole - coparenting.”

“We don’t.” Eddie said, tensely.

Dustin frowned as he watched the guys continue to stow their shit. Gareth and Jeff went back to sorting out the drums. “Not a big - “ Gareth scoffed under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief.

The rest of the boys were struggling to contain shiteating grins and Eddie was just pretending not to notice.

Dustin had never known these guys to be such… jerks. Why would it be such a big deal if Eddie and Steve were friends?

Could it really be all because they’re just so - different? The idea of hard rocker Eddie kicking back with a jock even once was just patently absurd? Ridiculous enough they jump straight to teasing him for it?

Dustin’s frown deepened. For a bunch of freaks, that all seemed pretty judgmental.

These guys would come around on Steve. Seems like Dustin would just have to make sure of it.

On Thursday Eddie agreed to pick him up from school.

He was late of course, so Will, Mike, Lucas, and Max had all started towards home by then.

When he did roll into the parking lot, it was in a sweeping wave of orchestral heavy metal.

“Pick it up.” He said impatiently, as Dustin opened the door. Eddie evil eyed the school building while he turned down the music. “Don’t like being here any longer than I need to be outside D&D hours.”

Dustin hopped in. He had a VHS copy of Jaws in his hands. He had left it behind at Lucas’ like two weeks ago and promptly forgot about it. A week later Lucas brought it to school and Dustin had only just re-unearthed it from his locker today. It was daunting just thinking of the fees that were sure to be stacking up by now.

His only salvation was Steve. Who’s thankfully working today.

“I need to drop this off at the movie store and before you say no - “

“Sure.” Eddie said, already starting the van.

“I - that was easy.” Dustin sat back and relaxed against the seat.

Eddie kept his eyes on the road and shrugged.

“I was thinking about renting something anyways.”

They drove straight to Family Video. The door dinged as they walked in.

Robin was sitting behind the counter. Still focused on her crossword she said, “Hi, welcome to Family Video, can I help you find - Oh, hey guys.”

“Hi Robin!” Dustin said, walking up to the counter.

Eddie lingered by the displays. He traced a finger over one of the tapes on the shelf. “Harrington, here?” Eddie asked, inspecting the cover.

Robin rolled her eyes but she was smiling. “You just missed him. It was seriously slow today and he won rock/paper/scissors so - he clocked out early for the day.” Eddie hummed and put his hands in his jean pockets.

Dustin handed Robin his VHS tape.

“This is eight days late.” She frowned at the computer.

“So - “ Dustin said, thinking fast to distract her from errant thoughts of late fees. “how’d you like the flowers?”

“Flowers?” Robin scrunched up her nose at him.

“The flowers Steve got you?” Dustin blurted out before he clamped his mouth shut again. She squinted at him. Suspicious.

“What are you on about?”

Shit. Steve hadn’t got those for Robin had he?

“Nevermind.” Mayday-mayday. Pull up!

Hopefully Steve wasn’t too pissed at Dustin for letting that little detail slip. And Dustin could barely feel bad for blowing Steve’s cover because, what the hell Steve?

Robin’s lip twisted. She looked down her nose at him, regarding him uncharitably. He forced a smile as she stared him down for a moment longer. Then her face cleared. Raising her eyebrows innocently she turned back to the monitor.

“So about that fee. That’ll be five fourty-“

“Ok! I - “ Dustin hesitated. Sorry Steve - that was five dollars he really did not have. “I don’t know. I ran into him a few days ago. And he’d just bought a big thing of roses.” Dustin caved, shrugging and holding his palms up defensively.

“Ooooh.” Robin’s eyes crinkled with a warm smile and her gaze slid somewhere behind Dustin shoulder. Then quickly snapped back into place.

“Oh.” Robin said again. She looked baffled, like the implications of that just hit her and clearly didn’t sit with her right.

“Maybe they were for his mom? His parents are in town aren’t they.” Dustin offered.

“You know what? Yeah, that’s probably it.” Robin nodded vigorously. The poor, love struck girl just immediately latching onto the explanation.

“Nah.” Dustin turned around to look at Eddie. He was still feigning intense interest in that copy of An American Werewolf in London. “His mom is allergic to roses.”

“That doesn’t mean he - ” Robin scrambled. “Maybe he just… forgot, or something. I mean, you know Steve. Total ditz.”

He shrugged. “That’s fine isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I mean, yeah.” Robin said cautiously. She seemed confused more than anything.

Eddie said cooly, hands still in his pockets. A perfectly neutral smile on his face. “Steve’s a free agent, right? He’s free to play the field.”

Jeez, did Eddie have to be so blunt? What ever happened to letting a girl down easy?

“Uh…” Robin said, looking between the two of them uncomfortably. Like maybe she didn’t quite know the answer to that anymore but it was also something she really didn’t want to sort out in public.

Dustin honestly felt a little bit bad for her. Sure they both always say they’re not dating, but clearly she seemed none too thrilled at the idea of Steve going around giving another girl flowers.

Dustin had hoped with the way Steve was talking the other day, he had finally got his head out of his ass and was ready to go public and make them official.

“Hey, man, I’ll meet you in the car, yeah?”

“Sure.” Dustin said.

“Eddie - “ Robin said. Eddie looked over his shoulder, lingering half way out the door. Robin glanced at Dustin. “Uh. Bye.” She finished lamely.

He smiled at her. She didn’t smile back.

Robin went back to the computer. She worked in complete silence. Suddenly the thick clack of the keyboard and the low murmur of the movie on the screen in the corner were way louder. Her brow was set like it gets when she’s stuck on a troublesome crossword.

“Sorry.” Dustin said, his face twisting up with guilt.

Robin glanced side long at him.

“I can talk to him you know.” He said.

“Huh?”

“I can talk to Steve. He shouldn’t do that to you.”

“Jesus, for the last time. We - are not - dating.” Robin said through gritted teeth. She made a frustrated noise. “Do you have to be so… ergh, meddlesome.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” He lied, taking a step back.

“You need to stay out of your friends love lives.”

Yeah well, how about Dustin stops meddling when his friends stop being so dumb about everything. Till then they’ll just have Dustin to thank for sorting out their messes.

Tag List : @reading-archieves @homoerotictangerine @bingbongsupremacy @aroseandherthorns-blog1 @wheneverfeasible @travelingtwentysomething @ineffable-monster-romancer @laughingphantoms @gregre369 @rawrx3ky-txt @thespaceantwhowrites @blcksh33p1987

@the-legal-shipper @maverickricky @i-amthepizzaman @pretend-theres-a-name-here @steddiefication @that-one-gay-crow @gleek4twd

@theintrovertedintrovert @tinyplanet95 @queercrisis2003 @awkwardgravity1 @stripey82

@sofadofax @midnightskeeper

@blurryjoji @estrellami-1 @caraspud @little-trash-ghost @finalmoondragon

@samsoble @depressed-freak13

[sturnina]

Rule number one

Dealer!Chris x Fem!reader

— tags;; drug use, a lot of curse words, no use of y/n, arguments, angst

— wc;; 1.7k

— author‘s note;; my take on dealer!chris since I find it concerning that people think it‘s a good idea for him to be a druggie, hope you enjoy <3

Rule number one is clear. You are aware of it, Chris is aware of it, everyone knows. The dealer does not take their own stuff. Because what happens then? It goes down way too fast. It is too dangerous.

Everyone knows. With an almost infinite supply of more, always more, it is a risk you cannot take.

And yet, you’re here. Standing in front of Chris, with a deep and dark pit in your stomach. Fuck. His eyes are clearly dilated, and his heart is racing—you can feel it through his shirt when you press your hand against his chest. He mutters something incoherent, a smile dripping from his lips.

“What was it?” you mumble, more to yourself. At least you’re alone with him, away from his brothers or customers. “What did you take?” you ask again, louder this time while gripping his chin and forcing him to look at you.

No. Wrong approach. Violence doesn’t help. But fuck, you need to know what it was.

“Was it K? Ketamine? Chris, did you take Ketamine?” you ask, slowly rubbing his shoulders. Oh, please let it be Ketamine.

He laughs and launches forward, embracing you tightly. “Shush Ma, you’re making me all worried,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your head. “It’s alright. It will be alright, trust me.”

The pit in your stomach deepens while the machinery in your mind runs at full speed. Racing heartbeat. Emotional closeness. Dizziness maybe? From the way he is swaying, you can tell he is more than a little lightheaded. **

“What do you feel?” you ask him, pulling away a little to look at him. “How are you feeling? Are you disoriented? Drowsy?”

Chris shakes his head, sighing deeply. “Doesn’t matter,” he mutters, his voice getting a slight slurred edge.

“Do you have a headache? Or an increased appetite?”

“No?” His voice is disinterested—he clearly could not care less. Unfortunately, this is all you care about at the moment. Increased body temperature, sweating, slurred speech…

“Chris, did you take MDMA?”

“Mmh…” he says, pulling you close again and peppering kisses to your head. “No, it was a longer name…”

“Ecstasy, Chris.” A slight undertone of desperation lies in your voice. How does he not remember the simplest things? “MDMA is Ecstasy. Did you take it or not?”

“Why does it matter?” he asks, pulling away to look at you. His movements are unpredictable and confused—clearly, he does not see the way you do right now. Even if just through his energy. “Come on, let’s go back inside and have fun. Dance with me, pretty girl, yeah?”

He grabs your hands, but you refuse. “You can’t go back in there,” you say sternly.

“But the party isn’t over,” he complains. “I still gotta dance… and deal.”

“You can’t. Deal, I mean.” A lump forms in your throat at the confused look he shoots at you through half-lidded eyes.

“What? Sure I can! Look, I still have-” The second he pulls out a small bottle of pills, you snatch it out of his hand. And you were right—it’s X, MDMA, clarity, whatever you want to call it.

“Chris you have to stop dealing.”

“I know you’re always worried about me, Ma,” he says with a sloppy grin. “But you know I have everything under control. No one’s going to get too dangerous.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” you sigh, stepping closer. “Chris, you have to stop dealing. You broke rule number one. You have a practically infinite supply of drugs, and you just started taking them. What do you think is happening now?”

He frowns, clearly having difficulties concentrating. Fuck, how long does Ecstasy last? You go through your memory, trying to find anything about it. From one up to… was it five? Six hours? Fuck.

“We’re going,” you say, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the room you searched for shelter from the party.

The second you step outside, into the main area, the music clogs up your ears. Smoke burns in your lungs, mixed with the smells of alcohol and sweat. You’ve never been a fan of parties like this, but you came with Chris more and more often, wanting to look out for him—even though you wouldn’t be able to do anything in an extreme case.

But today, you’re infinitely grateful for having come with him. Who else would force him to go home and not take another pill? His brothers don’t even know what’s going on behind the scenes, he’s taken care of that.

Back at your car, you force him into the passenger seat. Now looking at him, restlessly playing with the decoration on your glovebox, you’re almost relieved he did it. Just because it means he has to stop dealing. As soon as he’s sober, he’ll realise that too.

After getting into the driver’s seat, you lock the doors and reach out a hand. “Give me your phone.”

“Huh?” he asks, pulling out his iPhone.

“Not that one. The burner one.”

Frowning deeply, he crosses his arms. “No.”

“Yes. Chris, do it.”

“No way. That’s the only contact I have with customers and the supplier,” he protests.

“Exactly. Hand it over, I’m not asking you again.” Your fingers move twice in your direction, a sign everyone knows. Come on, you think, don’t make this more complicated.

“A’ight,” he mutters, pulling it out of his back pocket and going back to fiddling with something he found in your car. You couldn’t care less what it is.

“Good,” you mutter, quickly chucking the phone into the backseat from where you’ll pick it up later. For now, you need to get Chris home.

The drive back is silent, except for when he occasionally starts humming a melody and then abruptly stops, grinding his teeth.

“Don’t do that,” you mutter, watching him out of the corner of your eye.

“Stop telling me what to do,” he replies, staring ahead like a pouty kid. “I can take care of myself.”

“Clearly,” you scoff, a wave of anger bubbling up in your chest.

How could he be so careless? How could he possibly have thought that taking drugs as a goddamn drug dealer is okay? That it works? He knows the dangers of every drug. He’s seen people get completely wasted, slowly destroying their lives and the ones of the people around them.

Why would he do this to you? To his brothers? His friends and family?

Tears are burning in your eyes and you blink rapidly to focus your gaze on the street.

“Ma? ‘re you crying?” Chris asks. His voice is softer but clearly slurred now. The drug seems to be kicking in.

You open your mouth to say something, but not a single sound escapes your lips.

“Why are you crying, love?” he whispers.

“Why would you do that?” you finally ask. “You know drugs. You know what they do. You know they destroy lives. Fuck, Chris, what’s going on? Why did you take it?”

The car is silent, and nervosity settles in the pit of your stomach.

“Chris…?” you ask again. “Why did you take it?”

“I js wanted to try,” he mumbles. It’s clearly not the only answer, but now is not the time to figure out what exactly led him to be so stupid.

After stopping the car in front of your house—you won’t let Nick and Matt see him in this state—, you force Chris outside, into the cool air. He doesn’t react, even as you start shivering. You quickly fetch the burner phone from the backseat and lead Chris inside, pushing him through the front door and to the couch. He seems restless and refuses to sit down, so you let him wander around.

While he’s still in his drug-induced haze, you sit down at the kitchen island and open the flip phone. The first number is his suppliers’, you know that, saved simply as G. It rings only once before he picks it up.

“You run out this quickly?” he asks. No greeting, no nothing.

“No,” you reply. The tension is palpable, even through the phone.

“Who are you?” G asks cautiously.

“You will not supply C anymore,” you say, careful not to use Chris’s name. “Do you understand me?”

“Tell me who you are and I’ll consider,” he repeats.

“That’s none of your business. If you sell to Chris-” Fuck, fuck fuck. “If you sell to him again, I will find out and send the police after you.”

The guy chuckles. “Easy. I’m sure we can talk about this. You his girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, running a hand over your face.

“You worried about him or something?”

“Obviously,” you scoff. “I don’t want him to become an addict. That’s normal, I fear.”

“He wouldn’t. I’ve been supplying to him for a while, he does it for the money, not the drugs,” G says, apparently unimpressed. “Just stay out of his business, yeah? This is no place for little girls.”

“You listen to me, you little fuck,” you hiss, jumping up from the chair. “I know who you are and from where you supply. I know the faces of all the little dealers around here, and they’re all connected to you. I know what parties you go to, and what people you know. I’ve seen you. And I will get you if you deal with my boyfriend again. He took Ecstasy today. And trust me, I know what happens next. I’ve seen it happen. So if one of us ever hears from you again, you will be caught, I promise.”

A stunned silence fills the phone. The only sounds you hear is the clock on the kitchen wall ticking… and heavy breathing behind you.

You whip your head around. Chris stares at you with confused eyes. He reaches out for the phone, but his movements are too uncoordinated, and you dodge his hand.

“Is that G?” he asks, slurring his words more than before. “Why would you- what are you doing?”

“Making sure you don’t go down that path,” you say sternly.

Since you have no more to say to G, and you don’t care to hear his answer, you hang up the phone and guide Chris upstairs, leaving the burner phone on the kitchen counter.

“Come on, let’s go to bed.”

“But ‘m not tired,” he protests, still energised from the Ecstasy.

This is going to be a long night.

masterlist

[imtryingbuck]

Not a dream

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader.

Summary: she knew the Winter Soldier, only meeting again when she hears about Bucky’s pardon.

Word count: 7,479

Warnings: angst(?) murdering rapists. swearing. assaults. fluff. crying Bucky. past torture. suicidal thoughts. mentions of suicide. mentions of a sex ring (mentioned once.) mentions of rape (not Bucky or reader) 

Masterlist

“I’m innocent your honour.”

“You was caught with the murder weapon in your hands as well as being at the scene of the crime.”

“Would you believe me if I said that I found them like that?”

Y/n was sentenced to prison for twenty five years for murdering two men, she tried to justify her actions by telling the courts that she only killed them because they were rapists but apparently it was wrong of her to take the law into her own hands, who knew?

Little did they know that she had taken the life of just over sixty rapists.

What they don’t know won’t hurt them, right?

“So Y/n, when are you out of the shit hole?” Rogan asked as she sat at the table where Y/n was shuffling cards.

“Soon. Got twenty more years to go.”

“How long have you already done?”

“Five.” Looking around making sure no one heard her, she leaned further across the table to the woman. “Look RoRo first rule of prison is that you don’t ask people what they are in for or how long they are doing.”

“What really? I keep asking people.”

“It’s like pointing in cemetery, it’s disrespectful.”

“Oh… I didn’t know.”

“She’s fucking with you with.” Kandi laughed as she came over to the duo, a cigarette hanging out of her mouth.

“Not about the cemetery thing.” Pointing a card to Rogan. “Dis-respect-ful!”

Rogan had been in prison for six months, Y/n took the woman under her wing after seeing the poor girl getting harassed, everyone was quick to leave her alone. “Noted.”

“What about you? I’ve got three years left.” Kandi asked as she was pulling a card away from Y/n, just to wind her up.

“Hopefully next year.”

“NO!” Kandi laughed as Rogan jumped in her seat as Y/n screamed. “You two can’t leave me, I’ll be all alone in this big scary place!” She then throws herself onto the ground.

“L/n get off the ground!” A guard shouted, she does as she’s told and salutes the guy.

“Prick. Anyway I’m only joking, I can’t wait to see the back of you both.” Going back to shuffling her cards she looked up at Rogan. “You need to keep your head down and you might get an early release.”

They have a game of cards whilst Rogan and Kandi talked about their plans for when they get out. Kandi kicked Y/n’s leg and nodded in a direction, Rogan was confused but didn’t want to ask.

“RoRo.”

“Yeah?”

“Remember, always keep your head down.” Before the woman can answer Y/n stands up, fix her clothes and walks in the direction Kandi had nodded in.

Kandi quickly packs up the cards and shoves them into her pocket, swinging her legs over the bench. “When I tell you to get down, you do it.”

“Why? What’s happening.”

“Just watch our crazy little friend.”

Rogans eyes stay focused on Y/n as she makes her way across the yard and walks up to a woman that she knew had only arrived a few days before, with the distance between them she couldn’t hear what the two women were saying.

“Get… down.”

As the words come out of Kandi’s mouth Rogan watches as Y/n punches the woman in front of her, the two start fighting. Everyone begins to drop to the ground as the alarms started blearing, Rogan flinches when the guards start to shoot, not like Y/n stops her assaults on the woman - only stopping and throwing her hands up in the air when the other woman stops moving.

“We’ll she her in a month or two.” Kandi says quietly as the guards start rounding them all up.

Four months.

She was in solitary confinement for four months, Y/n was no stranger to the six by eight box, the warden had gotten fed up of her behaviour so he cut her yard time in half - only allowing her to have half an hour of fresh air a day.

Not like she cared.

The woman she had attacked played a role in the pain and suffering Y/n and many more had endured, she was a well respected agent who took great pleasure in hurting others especially Y/n. It was as if it was fate that the agent was being sent to the same prison as Y/n was in - not like she believed in things like that, but fate nonetheless.

“Y/n!” She only had that as a warning before Kandi jumped over the railing and landed on her. “Fuck I’ve missed you so much!”

“I’ve missed you too.” Y/n wheezed out. “But get your fat arse off me.”

“‘M not fat.”

“No but that arse of yours is.”

“Stop flirting with me, I’ll start thinking you’re in love with me.”

“We’re married…”

“Not anymore, I divorced you when you was in the hole. Sorry.”

“And there I thought you’d wait for me.” Finally standing up Y/n looked around, frowning when she couldn’t see Rogan. Asking Kandi where their friend was, she went from being happy to be back in the wing to angry.

“S-she was attacked two weeks ago, she’s in medical.”

“Who?”

“Y/n…”

“Who Kandi.”

“You’ve just gotten back.”

“I’m not going to ask again.”

Sighing and shaking her head Kandi said the name of the woman who had attacked their friend Y/n spun around in the direction of the woman’s cell. The alarms were quick to go off and the guards making their way in to the wing, an angry Y/n being dragged out.

“I’ll see you soon.” She shouted to Kandi, the latter just nods and makes her way back to her cell muttering idiot under her breath.

It’d be another four months since she’d see anyone again.

Y/n tiptoed her way over to where Kandi and Rogan was sitting at their bench, the other inmates raising their eyebrows as she puts her finger to her lips. They had all grown accustomed to her weird behaviour and how quickly she can go from laughing to beating someone up.

“Give me all your money!” She screamed behind the two friends, Rogan jumped whilst Kandi didn’t flinch.

Making her way to her seat she smiled at Rogan who happily returned the expression, she looked at Kandi and noticed she wasn’t looking at her. “What’s wrong?”

Kandi whispered into Rogans ear, Rogan then looked between her two friends nervously. “She said she’s not talking to you.”

“Why? Buttercup don’t be like this.”

“She said that you’ve been gone for a long time and things have changed.”

“Changed how? Nothings changed Kands, I promise I won’t go back in the hole.”

“You said that last time! And the time before that and the time before, oh and guess-“ Kandi snapped.

“I get it. I get it okay? I’m sorry alright. I just couldn’t let Anderson get away with hurting our RoRo.”

“I know but you promise all the time Y/n, you’ve been in the hole more times than anyone here and that’s saying something.”

“I like it, kinda feels like I’m home.”

“Don’t be such a dick Y/n, I’m being serious.”

“So am I!” It was her turn to snap, smoothing out her hair she apologised. “Look I’m really sorry Kandice, I swear to you I won’t do anything to get me into trouble- no I mean it honestly!”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

And just like that everything was fine between the pair. Kandi and Rogan told her everything that had happened in the eight months she was in solitary, which surprisingly wasn’t a lot other than a couple of fights happening.

Y/n’s left eye twitched as she stood in front of her cell. Someone had come into her place and trashed it. The whole wing went quiet as they all saw her standing there still as if she was a statue.

“Who?”

“Y/n, remember what you promised me.” Kandi said from the side of her.

“Who Kandi?”

“Y/n-“

“WHO FUCKING TRASHED MY CELL!” Everyone flinched as she shouted. She was getting angrier the longer everyone remained quiet.

“That would have been me, sweet cheeks.” The voice made her skin crawl. As she turned around she saw the guard who made it his sole mission to torment her after she turned him down.

“You-“

“Y/n, you’ve just gotten out.” Kandi hissed under her breath.

“Fucking-“

“Y/n!”

“PRICK!” His smile made her want to kill him right there and then. “But… it’s okay, I get it. No I really do.” Leaning over the railing she smiled at him. “Since catching your wife getting her brains fucked out of her by the fucking mailman - the same man she left you for, you’ve been real lonely, I hope you enjoyed my underwear around that small piece of useless skin that you call a dick.” The whole wing erupts in loud cheering - even some of the guards laughing - Y/n walked into her cell and started cleaning up.

The next morning the trio made their way to the rec room after having their breakfasts, sat at a table playing a card game Y/n caught a glimpse of a familiar face on the tv screen from the corner of her eye.

Her breathing picked up and her palms started to sweat, all she could see was so many different memories flash in front of her. It was like she was right there in the base alongside him. Memories she tried so hard to keep locked up right at the back of her mind under lock and key came flooding back. She could hear someone call her name but she couldn’t pin point where the voice was coming from or who by. Only snapping out of her memories when she felt a hand smack her across the face.

“Shit… Y/n I-I didn’t mean to do that.” Kandi stuttered, looking between Y/n and Rogan fear evident in her eyes.

“It’s-I’m okay. You smack like a girl by the way.” Chuckling nervously Kandi apologised but Y/n waved her off. “I need to get out of here.” She whispered to her two friends.

“We can go outside.” Rogan offered.

“No I mean I need to get out of prison, preferably like now.”

“What are you going to do, walk up to the warden and ask if he can let you out earlier?” Kandi laughed.

“Do you think he would?”

“No you idiot!”

“Why? I’m well behaved.” The girls in front of her raise their eyebrows in unison. “Okay maybe I’ve not been the best inmate but I can be good.”

They all knew that was a lie.

“Y/n be rational, you escape you’ll be wanted, you’ll get caught and have more years added to your sentence.”

“No because I’ll leave and then I’ll come back once I’m finished doing what I need to do.”

“You-I-Rogan deal with her.”

“I erm… Y/n you’ll be in so much trouble.”

“I’m doing twenty five years Ro, can’t get in more fucking trouble than that. Look I’ll be gone for a few days and I’ll hand myself in, they’ll probably give me an extra year or two which is nothing really. But I need your twos help.”

Kandi knew her well enough to know that she was going to escape with or without their help, despite not liking it she knew Y/n wouldn’t do anything without a reason. “Why?”

“I need to see someone. Kands I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t important. So please help me.”

“Fuck. Fine, okay I’ll help you.”

“I’ll help too.” Rogan smiled.

“No, you can’t ruin your chance at an early release.”

“I’m helping.”

As Y/n watched the two girls argue about whether or not Rogan was allowed to help she came up with a plan. Gaining their attention she told them the plan, and off they went.

“This is such a bad idea.” Kandi whispered watching Y/n climb through the tiny window of the guards locker room.

“It’s a brilliant idea.”

“Just hurry up!”

“Stop distracting me!”

Finding the locker she needed, she opened it up and searched for car keys, hanging them out of the small window to Kandi she climbed out. Kandi was about to unlock the car when Y/n wrapped her arms around her.

“I’ll come back I promise.”

“Why? You could be free and have a life.”

“Like you said, I’ll be wanted and I’ll end up getting caught. Plus all I’ve ever known is a life in prisons so I won’t do good out there in the real world.” She shrugged. “I’ll see you in a few days. Oh, Kandice?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Be careful.”

Keeping an eye out she helped Y/n get into the boot of the car and locking it again she ran over to the window and climbed in to put the keys back, Rogan was waiting for her when she came back out and made a phone call - using the phone that Y/n asked forced someone to borrow them.

“Hi, is this Mr Boyd? I’m sorry to say this sir but your apartment has been broken into. Your neighbour rang the police. Yes. That’s fine sir.” Not even five minutes ago by when they see the guard running past their hiding spot and driving away.

“The crazy bitch has done it.” Kandi laughed, wrapping her arm around Rogans shoulder she kisses her friends head.

Y/n had to bite her lip to force herself not to scream as Boyd drove like a maniac, she kept banging her head and it was starting to hurt. As the car finally pulled to a stop she slowly opened the boot door before he got out and locked her inside. Only climbing out when she figured the coast was clear, she falters when she makes eye contact with a child playing across the street - the kid waves and giggles at her. Putting her finger to her lip she smiles when the kid nods.

Hiding behind the wall she waits for Boyd to leave which wasn’t long, she breaks into his apartment. First thing she does is make herself a sandwich before sitting on the sofa, putting her feet on the coffee table and watch tv - it was nice to watch something without people talking loudly in the background. After showering she walked into his bedroom and went straight to the wardrobe in hopes there was still clothes from his wife. Luck seemed to be on her side because there was a few clothes left.

Looking at the photo of Boyd with who Y/n assumed was his parents she smiles. “You trash my place, I’ll trash yours.”

Within minutes the whole apartment was trashed. Not a single room was left unharmed by the bat she was using.

Stealing some money she found she left the apartment and made her way to the bus stop. Standing outside of the library with people walking around her not knowing who she was or the fact that she had broken out of prison, she went inside.

“Hi.” Leaning over the counter to see the name tag more clearly. “Paige, I would like to use a computer.”

“Do you have a library card?”

“I don’t I’m afraid.”

“You need a library card.”

“To use a computer?”

“Yeah.”

“But I don’t have one and I really need to use it.”

“I can give you one now.”

“I don’t want a card, okay. I’m never going to come back here so it’s pointless, I just need the computer for less than ten minutes.” Y/n had to bite her cheek in order to not shout at the poor girl who was just doing her job.

“But I’m not allowed.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” Paige nods and takes her over to where the computers were and used her login details, reminding Y/n that she only had ten minutes she rushed back to the desk.

She’s done within minutes.

Going back up to Paige she asks for directions which the girl offers, she thanks her and hands over twenty dollars that she stole from Boyd’s apartment. “For the computer.” She informs when the girl frowns.

The walk to her destination took longer than expected due to having to keep ducking down alleyways and into shops when the police went by, she knew the guards would have realised that she was gone by now and that there would be officers looking for her.

She had to admit the building was rather impressive.

“Excuse me miss, you need to sign in.” The man said from behind the desk.

“Oh silly me, my boyfriend told me that I could just go straight up.”

“Who’s your boyfriend?”

“Tony Stark.”

“He’s married…”

“Yeah, I’m his mistress. Don’t tell the wife though.” She winks and signs her name. “Can I go up now?”

“Y-yes miss.”

“Thank you. Oh, which button do I press? Normally he does it.” Thanking him once again she makes her way to the elevator and up she goes.

Following the voices she stood outside a room where the Avengers were sitting around laughing and talking. She sees him. She doesn’t realise that everyone sees her and stops talking.

“Who are you?” A red head said.

Taking that as her signal she walks inside, her eyes still on the man she broke out of prison just to see.

"I had to see this for myself. To know it's true.” All their heads snap to the person she was looking at.

Bucky.

“Buck… do you know who this is?” A blond man said as he sat further up in his seat.

“I-yeah, her names Y/n we were at the same base together. W-what are you doing here?”

“Like I said, I wanted to see this for myself.” A small smile on her lips, she started to pick at the skin around her nails starting to feel stupid for what she’s done because he didn’t seem too pleased to see her.

“You left me.” Bucky whispered.

“I-I know but I tried to get you out, I swear.”

“You left me there Y/n!” Before anyone could react Bucky had Y/n pinned to the wall by her throat and began squeezing. “We promised each other that we’d get out together! We promised.” His eyes filling up with tears.

“I tried James! You wouldn’t come with me.” Hearing that Bucky loosens his hold around her neck. “I got into your cell but you wouldn’t listen, I tried to get you to stand but you wouldn’t move, y-you broke my arm James. My opening was closing an-and I had to take it and I’ve regretted it every day but I did try I swear.”

His hold on her neck loosens until he’s just holding her, tears starting to fall from his pretty eyes, regret consuming him when he looks at the mark already forming on her neck, regret from hating her from the moment he found out she had left him there to rot, regret and anger at hearing he had broken her arm - hurting the one person even the Winter Soldier couldn’t hurt. “I-I-“

Y/n silences him by wrapping her arms around his neck and pulls him into her. Memories of her holding him in this way flashing through their minds as Bucky clung to her.

The only sound coming from the once lively room was Bucky’s muffled cries and Y/n apologising.

“Oh by the way Tony I’m your mistress.” Y/n informed him as she pointed her fork in his direction.

“What?”

“I told the guy downstairs that I was your girlfriend and he told me you’re married. Which honestly I don’t think I can be in this relationship anymore so it’s over.” Everyone chuckles aside from Tony who’s still trying to figure out what’s going on.

“So Y/n, what have you been doing since getting away from Hydra?” Natasha asked. Bless their little hearts they tried to introduce themselves to her but she knew exactly who was who beforehand.

“I-fuck this is the best meal I’ve had in five years, thanks Sam. But anyway I was moving around a lot, may or may not have killed some agents that I knew were Hydra. So yeah not much really.”

Ever since Y/n showed up he couldn’t take his eyes off her, she looked so different yet the same, she was still the most beautiful woman he ever laid eyes on. When he was told she had escaped he felt different emotions, he was proud that she had gotten away from the horrors they were subjected too and forced to commit, he was angry that she left him behind since they had promised each other that they’d get away together and try to live a normal life - whatever that meant for the two of them. He was devastated at the fact she had left him behind, he thought that everything they had gone through together and the feelings they had for each other was all lies.

He got beaten for days after she escaped because he attacked the guards when they tried to stop him from going to her cell, he stood there at the doorway expecting to see her sitting on the wrecked mattress with a pretty smile on her face or at least her laying there with bruises after a beating but it was empty other than the mattress and disgusting toilet.

Bucky started to believe that she was dead just because he couldn’t believe that she left him on his own. For the two years he was there without his partner, his only friend, the woman who he had fallen in love with despite their surroundings he never put up a fight, he did everything they asked of him and more, he didn’t care if he died on missions - hell he wanted to die just so he could finally see Y/n again.

But here she was, sitting right next to him laughing along with his friends, looking just as beautiful as the last time he saw her. All he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her and never let go again, he wanted to kiss her just the way they use to whenever they were alone and knew that no one was watching.

“Right, well I best be off.” Y/n spoke bringing Bucky back to the present.

“W-what?”

“Yeah sorry, I’ve gotta go somewhere before I head home.”

“I’ll take you.” Everyone could hear the desperation in his voice but he didn’t care, he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her just yet.

“I-okay. It was nice meeting everyone.”

“You can come back whenever you want.” Steve smiled, Y/n nodded her head knowing that she couldn’t but what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

Saying her goodbyes, Bucky took her down to the garage and ever the gentleman he opened the car door for her. Telling him the address of where she wanted to go, he didn’t question it just driving to the destination. He noticed that every time a police car went by that she put her head down when he asked she just shook her head and smiled at him.

He followed behind her as she searched the rows of headstones, he sees her face light up when she spots the correct one she was looking for.

Kneeling down on the damp grass she placed her hand on the thick stone. “Hey beautiful, yeah I know I’ve not seen you in five years but I couldn’t get here. I’m sorry. Oh I want you to meet someone.” Waving Bucky over, he stands by her side with his hands in his pockets looking at the name, date of birth and death. “This is James, the man I told you about. Bucky this is Evie.”

“Who is she?”

“I found her two weeks after I escaped Hydra, she was along seven other women they… they were in a sex ring. I managed to get them all out and got them to safety, I know the other girls are in protection and are now safe.”

“W-what happened to Evie?”

“The dark thoughts got too much for her, I didn’t get there in time to save her. She had taken her own life. I let her down after I promised that I would always be there.” A dry laugh falls from her mouth as she wipes a tear away. “But then again I’ve never been able to keep my promises, have I?”

“Y/n-“

“It’s true though isn’t it? I’ve got two girls back at home expecting me to keep a promise I made and I don’t want to break it but I really don’t want to go back, you know?”

“You have kids?”

“Fuck no! Jesus Bucky, me as a mum? Can you imagine? Terrible.” She laughs though her heart aches at the image of her being a mother, she wanted kids but that was before Hydra, before being sent to prison for killing the two so called men who had took it in turns to rape Evie. Don’t get it wrong, she didn’t regret doing it and would do it again in a heartbeat but she knew she could never be a mum now.

“You’ve always been caring Y/n.”

“And? That doesn’t mean-you know what? It doesn’t matter, I need to go otherwise I’m going to be in even more trouble than I already am. But it was good to see you again James, it really was. I hope you all the best.”

Bucky grabbed her free hand as her other was on the headstone. “You don’t have to go! You can stay with me at the tower an-and you could be a part of the team.”

“I’m not a hero James. Never have been, never will be. I’m the person you and your friends go after, I destroy everything.”

“No, no you’re a good person Y/n, I know you!”

Putting her hand on his cheek she shakes her head. “No you don’t.” Her face lights up very quickly when blue and red lights go by. “I’ve gotta go now James. I’m sorry I didn’t get you out, I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to stay there with you. I hope you all the goodness in the world.” Standing on her tiptoes she presses her lips to his in a quick kiss. “One for the road.”

Bucky stands there motionless as Y/n presses a kiss to the headstone, giving him one last smile before walking off.

The warden went bright red in the face as he shouted at Y/n. She couldn’t see what the problem was as she came back. She went back to court and her defence lawyer told the judge that she had only escaped so she could say goodbye to a dear friend, and that she had come back willingly and she didn’t run like most would.

The judge handed her an extra eighteen months to her twenty year sentence.

Kandi and Rogan saw her two months later after she came out of solitary confinement, both of them instantly wrapping their arms around her and refusing to let go.

When Bucky got back to the tower that night he went straight into his room and refused to speak to anyone, he opened up the wardrobe and grabbed his backpack from the back, moving to sit on his bed. He found the dark red notepad and held it close to him, he remembered the day he got it - he was on a solo mission, as he was about to leave the office following the man that was trying to run away when a dark red notepad caught his eye, picking it up he flicked through the empty pages before putting it in one of his many pockets. Getting back to the base in the early hours of the next morning he kept it hidden along with a pencil he had stolen, once in the safety of his cell he began writing Y/n’s name over and over again, he then wrote all the little facts that he could remember from what she told him about herself. He kept the notepad with him at all times when he wasn’t on missions and when he was on ice he kept it hidden in his mattress.

Since Steve found him in that rundown apartment building and everything that followed Bucky didn’t read what was in the notepad, it was too painful for him but now that he knew she was alive he found himself reading what he wrote all those years ago.

He soon fell asleep with the notepad clutched closely to his chest.

A couple of weeks later the team were once again sitting around in the living room, when FRIDAY put the tv on and told the team they needed to watch the news.

“The prison behind me holds some of the most dangerous women in the country, one of the inmates who was sentenced to twenty five years for murdering two men escaped last month.” The reporter spoke, none of them understood why FRIDAY thought they needed to watch that was until a photo appeared on the right side of the screen. “Y/n L/n escaped and was on the run for two days, remarkably she walked back into prison and handed herself in. L/n has already served five years of her sentence when the esca-“

Steve paused the screen, all their eyes trained on the mugshot of the woman who showed up to the tower. A large smile on her face with no look of remorse behind her eyes as they took her photo. Bucky sits there and shakes his head as he remembers wondering why the meal Sam cooked was the best she had in five years, or when she mentioned that she hadn’t been to see Evie.

“Did you know?” Wanda asked him.

“No but it makes sense now though.”

“How do you mean?” Sam asked, so Bucky explains. “I wonder who she killed.”

“I don’t know but I’m going to visit her.”

Steve went with him to see Y/n but was turned away due to her being in solitary, the warden smirked as he told the pair that they could come back in two months to see her.

The trio was sitting in Kandi’s cell when a guard called for Y/n, with a huff she went to see what they wanted, her eyes squinting when they said she had a visitor.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you have someone here to visit you.” He said sarcastically, unlocking the door so she could come out. Putting the cuffs on her wrist he gave her no time to try and walk freely as he started to pull on the cuffs. Leading her down to a visit room he pushed her inside once the door was unlocked.

“There’s no need to keep pushing me you-“

“You, what?”

“If you hadn’t interrupted me you’d know I was going to call you a cunt.”

“You’ve got a fucking mouth on you, don’t you.”

“Me? Never.” He goes to open his mouth but closes it, he just smiles at her instead and leaves the room. Turning around she raises her eyebrow at seeing Bucky and his friends on the other side of the table. “Fancy seeing you guys here, did you get lost?”

“No, we didn’t get lost.” Bucky says fiddling with him metal fingers.

“Oh, it’s just because I don’t get visitors so.” She trails off.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were in prison?”

“Didn’t think it was important.” She shrugged.

“Not important? You murdered two men!” Y/n frowned at the way Bucky raised his voice at her, hating the way he looked at her as if she was a monster.

“Two men who deserved it! They raped Evie.” She snapped, smacking her hand on the table. “I’ve never killed anyone that didn’t deserve it and you know it.”

Bucky frowns and instantly feels guilty for raising his voice. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever. Are we done here?“

“Did you really escape just to see me?”

“Yep, stupid I know.” Before Bucky could respond Tony spoke up and asked how long had been added to her sentence. “Eighteen months, why?”

“Cap, you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Yeah but will it work?” Y/n frowns as Steve and Tony continued to have a conversation between themselves, giving Bucky a questioning look he shrugs - not once taking his eyes off her.

“What are you two talking about?” Bucky asked them.

“Getting mouthy here out of this place.” Tony points over to Y/n, raising his eyebrow. “In the correct way.”

The door opens and before anyone could speak the guard comes in and drags Y/n out of the room saying “times up.” Bucky clenched his fists at seeing her being manhandled, Steve put his hand on his arm in hopes to calm him down - giving him a look that asked him not to do anything stupid.

A week later Y/n was told she had a visitor, with an annoyed huff she followed the guards, not even making a single comment as they tugged on the cuffs wrapped tightly around her wrist. In the week that had passed since her first visit, she couldn’t understand what Tony said - why would they want to get her out? What would they want with her? What would be the point in letting someone like her out in public when all she’s done is kill people?

Once again she’s pushed into the same room as before when she looks up she sees Bucky clenching his jaw and another man sitting next to him. “Back again?”

“This is-“

“Nick Fury, yeah I know who he is.” She cuts Bucky off. “I was currently in the middle of finding out what kind of flower I am based on my personality, so can we speed this up?”

Fury chuckles whilst nodding, pushing a folder across the table he gestures for her to sit. “You need to sign these papers.”

“What are they?”

“You sign these, you’ll be agreeing to you coming into SHIELDS custody.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Y/n you’ll be free-“ Bucky says.

“But I wouldn’t be would I?”

“Alright you won’t be in prison-“

“Yet I’ll be in a cell-“

“You won’t be.” Fury cuts in. “You’ll do the rest of your sentence under SHIELD, meaning you’ll work for us, help us stop Hydra and other organisations that are threatening to our world. Sign this and we’ll get you out of here within a few days.”

Bucky gave her a reassuring smile and an encouraging nod but she wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to sign, she’ll just be moving from one prison to another regardless of how they dress it up of what she’ll be doing for them. “Y/n?”

“I have two conditions.”

Fury sighs and rubs his eyes. “What are they?”

“Kandi and Rogan.”

“Who are they?”

“My friends, I want them out too.”

“I can’t do that Y/n.”

“Then I’m not signing.”

“Y/n they’re in prison for a reason.” Bucky tried.

“Petty crimes, the both of them. Kandi’s got three more years and Rogan can get out in a few months, it’s not hard to pull some strings.”

“They’re criminals.”

“So am I.”

Fury looks at Bucky then at Y/n. “Alright. I’ll see what I can do.”

“If they aren’t following me out of this shit hole then I’m not coming Fury.”

“You’re already the biggest pain in my backside.” He mumbled, Bucky chuckled as Y/n smiled proudly. “I’m gonna make a phone call, what’s their last names.”

Telling him their names she watched as Fury left the room leaving her alone with Bucky who had yet to take his eyes off her. She looked everywhere other than at him. He squinted his eyes at her as she tried to suppress the smile that wanted to make an appearance. She wasn’t going to back down - she knew that, Bucky knew that - but she was cracking and he knew it.

“Just give in.”

“Nope.”

“Come on, you know you want too.” She didn’t need to look at him already knowing he had a smug smile on his lips.

“Don’t know what you mean.” Bucky rolled his eyes and leaned over the table, his hand reaching out to hold hers, her eyes snapped from the stain on the wall to him. “That’s cheating.”

“You’ve never been good at that game.” He smiled softly. “If Fury can’t get your friends out of here, you’ll be an idiot not to sign these papers Y/n.”

“I can’t just leave them here, not after all we’ve been through.”

“I get it, I do but you’ll be wasting your life away.”

“Never had much of a life before anyway.” She shrugged, flipping her hands over so their fingers would link together. “I’m really sorry James.”

“For what?”

“For leaving you there, for not going back to the base earlier, for not telling you the truth about.“ she gestures to the room they were in. “Just everything. I’m sorry for everything.”

Bucky feels his heart tug at her words, he forgave her the second he laid eyes on her again after seven years without seeing her. He forgave her when she explained, so he didn’t understand why she was apologising again. “W-what do you mean when you said for not going back to the base earlier?”

“I-I found us a safe place to call home it was off grid and in the middle of nowhere, it was perfect for us. I went back to get you, I hoped that you would listen this time.” She chuckled. “I got inside and it was chaos, the agents were dropping like flies and I wasn’t even the one doing anything, but anyway I get to your cell and it was empty, an agent shot me in the chest and told me that you had gone rogue, that it was a stupid idea to send the Soldat to kill his best friend but I thought she was lying and you were killed.” The agent she was talking about was the very same one she attacked in the yard, her face dropped as she came face to face with the person she shot in the chest and left for dead.

“You-you got shot in the chest? Y/n!”

“What? I’m still alive aren’t I?”

“But how?”

“Because the thought of you still alive kept me alive.”

“Funny.”

“Hilarious.” She winked at him, once again he rolls his eyes at her. “I’m joking, I don’t know why or how I survived but I did. But anyway a week later I find the two men who hurt Evie and killed them, then got caught, got arrested and then sent here.”

Fury comes back into the room just as Bucky was about to say something. “All three of you will be released tomorrow morning as long as you sign these papers.”

“Tomorrow? But it’s sponge cake for dessert tomorrow.” She frowns, both men give her a deadpan look. “Sponge cake!”

“Well don’t sign and stay here then.”

“You was meant to say ‘don’t worry Y/n I’ll get you a sponge cake’ and I’ll then go ‘oh no it’s fine Fury’ and then you was going to say ‘no, no it’s fine, you deserve it for being the absolute best’ but no you had to ruin it.” Fury’s lips twitched and she could see that he was trying not to smile, Bucky on the other hand was having to bite his fist in order to stop himself from laughing.

“You going to sign or not?”

“The girls walk free?”

“Yes.”

“Where do I sign?”

Kandi and Rogan looked confused when their cell doors were opened and the guards told them they have five minutes to get their things, thinking they had done something wrong and were getting moved they frowned when Y/n stood in front of their cells with her own backpack slung over her shoulder.

“What’s going on?” Kandi whispered as they stood behind Y/n, her and Rogan were holding hands, both nervous about what was happening.

“Do you trust me?” Y/n asked turning around to the pair.

“Of course we do.”

“Then don’t worry.” The doors came open and they were walked towards the large gates, the warden made a comment under his breath which Y/n raised her eyebrow to him daring him to say it louder but he put his head down. Y/n stepped outside first smiling when she saw Bucky standing there with the rest of the Avengers and Fury. Frowning when she realised that the girls weren’t right behind her. “Come on.”

“What’s happening?”

“You’re free.” Both her friends frowning in confusion. “I got you out. Fly my pretty butterflies”

“Is this a joke?”

“Nope. You can stay if-“

“No! We’re coming.” They both rush out and run up to her.

“So… now what?” Y/n asked Bucky who looks at Fury.

“We go to the tower and these two need to sign some papers and then they can go and live their lives.”

“Right. Well let’s go then.”

Sam and Wanda lead the two girls towards the jet with Y/n following when Fury calls her name and holds out his hand.

“Sponge cake! Knew you loved me Nicky.”

After a long hug and saying goodbye eight times Kandi and Rogan were taken to their families, leaving with a promise that they’ll see each other again.

Bucky couldn’t sit still as Y/n was in a room talking to Fury, his knee kept bouncing the longer he waited, he ran his fingers through the short strands of his hair tugging lightly in annoyance. Nearly four hours later Steve came and sat next to him, both sitting in silence - that was until Steve broke it.

“Did you love her?”

“I did. Still do I guess.” Leaning forward on his knees he looked to the side at his best friend. “Is that stupid?”

“No.” Chuckling softly, Steve leaned back in his seat. “I still love Peggy and she married someone else and had a family. It’s not stupid Buck.”

“They could never break her, you know? Even with the chair and I think that’s what drew me to her. She helped me remember things, always reminding me who I was after it was my turn in that fucking chair.” Bucky paused and wiped his hands down his face. “She told me she came back for me and this whole time I thought she was dead.”

“Buck…”

“It’s fine. I’m fine. I-I just wish things were different.”

Steve didn’t know what to say so he put a reassuring hand on his best friend back and let the silence take over once again. An hour later Y/n and Fury emerged from the room, Fury greeted the two super soldiers before leaving the three alone.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked worriedly.

“I’m good, just had to tell Nicky Boo all my deepest darkest secrets.” She smiled although it wasn’t easy bringing up things that she had tried to keep hidden, Fury put his hand on hers when it started to shake as she told him the things she had done.

“Nicky Boo?” Steve questioned, amusement lacing his voice and face.

“Yeah, but I don’t think he likes his new nickname.” She shrugs, laughing along with the two men.

“Right well I’ll let you two catch up. Welcome to the team Y/n.”

“Thanks Steve.” As the blond walks away Bucky once again couldn’t take his eyes off her, and like last time Y/n looked everywhere other than him.

“You really have a staring problem.” She mumbled.

“I’m scared.” Bucky whispered, his hand reaching out to hold hers.

“Why?”

“Because if I look away I’m scared you’ll disappear and this is all a dream.”

Squeezing his hand Y/n steps closer and puts her hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating steadily. “It’s not a dream Bucky. I’m right here, I promise I’m not going to disappear.”

Bucky sighed a breath of relief at her words, putting his forehead against hers he closed his eyes. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, and I’m still so sor-“ She goes to apologise again but Bucky didn’t want to hear it, so he kissed her. Both of them sighing softly as their lips finally touched after so long.

Slowly opening his eyes Bucky smiled. “It’s not a dream.”

“How’d you know?”

“Because normally I wake up just before we kiss.”

“Aw you’ve been dreaming of me?”

“Shut up.”

Y/n burst out laughing as his cheeks turned red, he rolled his eyes before pulling her closer to him and kissing her more passionately than before. Neither one of them knew really what was in store for them but they didn’t care about that, not now that they were back in each other’s arms.

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

[bearforcecaptions]

The spell worked, sort of, but not how I wanted. I did have the body of my dreams – I was Garrett now, but I didn’t realize the catch was that I wouldn’t be able to control what I’m doing unless I’m totally alone. And Garrett, or, me, I guess – I’m nearly never alone! The frat house pretty much always has someone in it, and I’m super popular, too. I thought being Garrett would be fun and easy, but stuck like this, it’s torture!

I figured out the ritual from this old book I found at that occult shop downtown, thinking it would be a quick way out of my boring life and into something… well, something way more interesting. Garrett had it all, or so I thought. Girls loved him, he was in the best shape, and everyone wanted to be his friend. But nobody told me about this weird restriction, or maybe I just didn’t read that part carefully enough. I guess the idea was I’d “experience” Garrett’s life, but it’s like watching a movie, except I’m the star and I can only move on my own terms when no one else is around.

And god, my roommate, he’s actually so stupid. When I can’t control my actions, we bro out all the time, but he’s so vapid. I guess I’m not much better, but it’s actually infuriating. You’d think we could have a conversation that’s not about girls, parties, sports, or video games. But no, every time he starts talking, it’s like Garrett’s body just falls right into the rhythm of it, responding automatically. I tried fighting it at first, but it’s like this autopilot takes over, and I’m just... stuck.

I’ve been scouring the room whenever I get a chance to control things, like right now, looking for any sign or clue on how to undo this. There has to be something I missed. I rummaged through his messy closet, which is packed with clothes, gym stuff, and random junk, none of it useful. The guy keeps his stuff in total chaos, and I feel weirdly exposed, like I’m actually pawing through my own things.

Shit, no, is that the door jangling? I thought I would have a couple of hours to try and figure out how to fix this. Who the hell knows when I’ll get another chan-

Fuuck, bro. Why’s my roomie home early? Thought he went to his ‘rents for the weekend. I was just about to jerk one out too. Ah well, maybe he’ll be down for some Call of Duty or something. I could use a beer.

“Yo, dude, what’s up? You back already?” I say, grinning like an idiot as I lean against the door frame, flexing a bit without even realizing it. Dude probably thinks I’m just chillin’, but nah, I’m feelin' like a boss.

He laughs, dropping his bag by the door and shrugging. “Yeah, man, got bored at home. Figured I’d head back early. Parents were driving me nuts.”

“Oh, for sure, dude,” I nod, grabbing a can of beer from the mini-fridge by my bed. “Parents, am I right? They just don’t get it, bro.” I crack it open, chugging half of it in one go, feeling the cool rush. Damn, that’s good.

He slaps my shoulder, laughing. “Dude, I swear, it’s like every time I go back, it’s the same speech about responsibility and blah blah blah. Like, whatever, right?”

“Oh, totally, man,” I laugh, shrugging it off. “Why they gotta be like that, y’know? We’re just out here living, they don’t get it.” I toss him a beer, feeling that chill vibe kickin’ in, like nothing in the world matters but just hanging with my bro. This is what it’s all about – no worries, no drama, just cold beers and good times.

“Bro, I’m feelin’ a COD sesh,” I say, grabbing the controller off the couch. “You down?”

He grins. “Hell yeah, let’s wreck some noobs.”

We crash down on the couch, controllers in hand, beers in easy reach, and it’s like all the worries in the world just melt away. I’m trash-talkin’, throwin’ down taunts, and we’re both laughing so hard my sides hurt. I don’t even remember the last time I felt this alive.

“You’re so bad, dude,” I laugh, jabbing him in the ribs as I get another kill. “How are you still this bad?”

“Shut up, bro!” he shoves me back, laughing too, and I’m grinning like an idiot.

Fuck, life is good, I think, as I take a gulp of my beer. I got my bros, I got my beer, and I got my games. What more does a dude need? Life’s good.

[swiftyangx12]

🟦🤍A Misunderstanding🩵🟥

[Pairing]: TFA Optimus Prime x Cybertronian!Autobot![Reader]

[Synopsis]: [D/N] can’t catch a break from being misidentified for a Decepticon. At least they have someone who understands their struggles as a commander.

[Inspiration]: A request I sent out some time ago and @signedaiko wrote the HCs out. (HCs with the Special Ops![S/O])

[D/N] = Designation (Meaning your name)

[Gender Neutral Reader]

[(A/N)]: Based on Aiko’s HCs, I’m only writing Optimus in this fic because I’m kind of biased. Also, I need to practice writing characters from the TF franchise and TFA O.P. seems like he’s an easy start. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the story.

[WARNING]: Possible misuse of Cybertronian Vocabulary and Terminology (I’m still new to the fandom)

[Back when [D/N] was first promoted to their position as Commander of the Information Operations, they were issued to get a paint job with much darker colors since most missions require stealth. The team [D/N] leads and work with are good bots, but the only trouble the whole unit faces sometimes are the misunderstandings from a first glance.]

Random Cybertronian: EHH! DECEPTICON!!!

[D/N]: No, no, no! I’m not a Dece-!

Random Cybertronian: *Whacks them with an alloy pole*

[D/N]: OW!

🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥

[It didn’t help when they visit Earth to see their Conjunx Endura. People, especially Detroit citizens, also mistook them for one.]

Random citizen: Call the Autobots! Decepticon on sight!

[D/N]: Wait a klik! I’m not with the bad guys.

[After clearing up the commotion]

Random citizen: I’m so sorry! I thought you were one of those Decepticons.

[D/N]: It’s alright. At least you have good optics if spotting one, but please be sure if you see their Insignia next time.

🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥

[It also didn’t help that even the Decepticons on Earth were bewildered to discover that [D/N] is an Autobot.]

Starscream: When did one of our Decepticons switch sides?!

[D/N]: *Enraged* 💢 I AM NOT A DECEPTICON IN THE FIRST PLACE, YOU FRAGGING IDIOTS!!!

The Decepticons: Uh oh.

[D/N]: *Unsheathes their razor neon blades and sprints towards the enemies* AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥

[Yeah, from that last battle, [D/N] was on rage mode where they kicked the Decepticons’ afts to the extremes. On their own. Probably put them out of commission for a while. They definitely need private time with their Sparkmate.]

[The Plant: The Autobots’ Secret Base]

[D/N]: Oppy, sweetspark~ *Back-hugs Optimus* My wonderful and lovely conjunx~

Optimus Prime: *Holds their bitarlueus’ carefully and looks back* What is it, [D/N]? You usually call me those names if something is bothering you.

[D/N]: There is. When I retire from the position as commander of my unit, I’m getting a new paint job.

Optimus Prime: Oh, that doesn’t sound bad. Why the sudden thought?

[D/N]: *Vents out from their intake (Sighs)* Almost every bot and person I encounter, they mistake me for a Decepticon. It’s what I get for earning a job where my team and I are required to wear coatings for stealth operations. The tones are too close to the actual faction’s.

Optimus Prime: Well, you also act scary when on duty.

[D/N]: *Pouts* That doesn’t help either.

Optimus Prime: *Chuckles a little* Don’t worry, [D/N]. We know you’re good and just doing your job as a commander. You proved to be a great bot every cycle.

[D/N]: Yeah…But I still remember when Sari and Bee freaked out after seeing me.

Optimus Prime: They didn’t know you’re on our side at that time. Now, they love you for being your true self.

[D/N]: Yeah…Y’know, when I do retire, you wanna help choose which color scheme suits me?

Optimus Prime: Only if you’re comfortable with the choices.

[D/N]: *Smiles at him* You’re so thoughtful, Oppy. I love you.

Optimus Prime: Love you too, [D/N].

🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥

[A Few Deca-Cycles Later]

[At Night]

[S/N] = Sparkling’s Name

[S/N]: *Runs up to Optimus on their little pedes* Sire! Sire! Was this Carrier? *Holds up a data-pad with an old image of [D/N] back when they were a commander*

Optimus Prime: “Oh scrap.” Where did you find this? You know your carrier isn’t comfortable talking about their old job yet.

[D/N]: Don’t worry, Oppy. I let them see the ‘pad.

Optimus Prime: [D/N]. I didn’t expect you to tell so soon.

[D/N]: *Shrugs* [S/N] would learn sooner than later. They didn’t believe the image was me and needed your confirmation.

Optimus Prime: Well… *Picks up [S/N] and adjusts his hold* To tell you the truth, that is your carrier.

[S/N]: Really?! They look too scary to be my creator.

[D/N]: *Made an expression on their faceplate that screams, “Even my kid thinks I looked scary.”* (￣^￣)

Optimus Prime: That’s because back then, Carrier needed to look the part as a leader for their special unit. They have to wear darker coats of paint as their uniform.

[S/N]: Why? No bright colors allowed?

[D/N]: No bright colors, because I had missions where you need to be sneaky. Hiding in the dark and go for the surprise attack! *Starts tickling their Sparkling*

[S/N]: *Laughs from the “attack”* S-Stop! Stop! Can’t vent!

[D/N]: *Stops tickling* Alright, alright. Now, you better get ready for stasis mode since the next cycle is a big one.

[S/N]: *Gasps* I get to visit uncle Bee and uncle Bulk!

[D/N]: That’s right. *Picks them up from Optimus and settles them down* Wash up and maybe we’ll read you a story before berth.

[S/N]: *Nods and hurries off to freshen up*

Optimus Prime: *Hugs [D/N] from behind* You know, I fear next time you need to be called in to resume your duties.

[D/N]: *Leaning in the hug* Don’t worry, Oppy. I’m sure my successor is doing fine as commander and I only come in as a consultant for my former team.

Optimus Prime: If you say so. Then more time between us and see how it plays out.

[D/N]: After reading a story to [S/N], then maybe we’ll see what happens next.

Optimus Prime: *Vents out* Love you, [D/N].

[D/N]: Love you too, Oppy.

❤️[Reblogs help creators and creates more content]💙

[(A/N)]: Please be sure to visit @signedaiko’s blog and check out their work. Their writing is really entertaining and fun to read.

[mrs-hatake]

Jealous, jealous, jealous girl!

pairing: sylus x afab!reader

Surveying the N109 Zone is not a regular occurrence in your agenda…is what You told Yourself at first. In the beginning, You’d just patrol around Sylus’ neighborhood, ensuring that that sneaky little fox isn’t up to no good. Somehow, as the days turned into weeks, watching over the N109 Zone has become a habit that you can’t seem to break free from. 

But Your endeavor isn’t fruitless. Though You have yet to witness Sylus competing any sort of felonies, You have stopped petty criminals from harassing the few innocent civilians living in the zone. At the mere sight of crime, You’ll wear a porcelain maroon mask (one that You’ve purchased so that Sylus won’t recognize you), jump out of Your car and head straight into battle. 

The crimes aren’t much to begin with but the more You get involved, the lesser they’ve been committed. Your assistance even made news into their shoddy newspapers. Masked hero saves The Zone! Is how most of the headlines are read. 

Tonight has been a quiet night. There are not bored looking children roaming the streets for some highly inappropriate prank that’ll cost the city quite a few millions in damages —not that the city council will do anything about it.  You don’t spot shady looking people who are breaking and entering. It’s a silent night. Still, You wait out a few minutes, just to make sure that everything’s good before You leave. 

Just as You’re about to press the grey button to start the engine, a familiar tuft of hair catches Your eyes.

Sylus, in his glorious height and broad shoulders, leisurely walks from around the block. A hand casually slipped into the pocket of his dark jeans pants. Though the man is giving the aura of friendliness, You can tell that Onychinus’ leader is on high alert. His shoulders being slightly elevated is a dead give away. 

You observe the man, following his every move, ready to strike when needed. Despite the fact that the two of you have gotten closer in recent months, You still can’t fully trust Sylus. How can You when he’s a crime lord?

As You continue to watch, Your tense muscles relax. It truly does seem that Sylus is simply out for a walk. In the back of Your mind, You vaguely remember Sylus informing You that he has trouble sleeping at night. Maybe tonight is one of those nights and he thought that strolling through the city might tire him enough until he sleeps. 

Just like earlier, You’re about to start Your car when a figure appears from the shadows. 

High heels step into the street lights, black leather gleaming under the artificial lights. They’re adorned on feet that carry long and smooth pairs of legs. Supple thighs are barely hidden by a blood dress, too short and revealing to be worn in the dangerous streets of N109. 

Sylus is a crime lord, that much is true, but You don’t believe he’d do something to an innocent woman but You can never be too sure. 

With a bated breath, You watch as the two about to cross paths. They’ll pass each other and You’ll be reassured, once again, that Sylus isn’t all that bad. 

However, the mysterious woman stopping directly in front of Sylus catches you off guard. Her boldness as she runs her finger down Syulus chest, the very same one that’s been haunting You in Your dreams, has You gawking in disbelief. 

Her flirtatious demeanor that is eagerly reciprocated by Sylus has You double taking at the exchange. Yeah, Onychinus’ leader can come off as flirty with You at times but it’s never anything serious. Yet, seeing Sylus’ lips curly lazily as his eyes appreciatively roam over the woman’s figure has Your chest feeling hollow. 

Without a thought, You shove Your car door open and march to where the two are. 

Thoughts of Sylus’ teasing remarks, him relentlessly calling You kitten, sweetie and other frivolous pet names, the nonstop skinship, all of those seemingly insignificant moments has Your footsteps thundering down the chewing gum covered pavement. 

Once they’re within reach, You impulsively yank Sylus away from the woman and step between the two of them.

Purple eyes that can be mistaken for sugilite blink with incredulity. The woman’s—whom Your brain tauntingly marvels at her beauty—pouty lips part ways, as if to defend herself but You don’t let her. 

“Sorry.” You press Yourself closer to a stupor caught Sylus. Glaring at the woman, You continue,  “He already has someone to warm his bed at night.”

“What?” Both Sylus and the woman ask, as if they haven’t heard what You had said. 

You don’t repeat Yourself but the fire burning in Your gaze is warning enough for the woman to back off. 

Suddenly, a quick bark of laughter cuts through the night air.

The nerve of the woman to laugh at You! 

Behind You, a voice sighs, “Y/N.”

The heated glare is now directed at Sylus who has his face hidden behind his large hand. 

“And you!” You shove Your finger into his rock solid abs, “How dare you seduce me and flirt with another woman?” You spit out the words in his face.

“I-” Sylus tries to explain but You cut him off. 

“I took You for many things, Sylus, but a womanizer wasn’t one of them!” Your tone is cold and disapproving. 

Sylus, despite being on the receiving end of Your venomous words and harsh glare, stares down at You in amusement. This only adds fire to the fuel.

 “What’s so funny?!” Your gaze shifts between the giggling woman and the amused looking Sylus, nausea churning Your stomach. You need to leave before You continue making a fool out of Yourself. Screw Sylus for his flirtatious nature. And screw him for playing with Your heart. 

“Relax Y/N.” A familiar voice stops You from running away in embarrassment and driving all the way home with Your vision filled with tears. 

“Kieran?” You blink in astonishment at the…woman? “What?”

Kieran chuckles, his gaze soft and apologetic. “I’m not stealing your man, don’t worry.”

When You’re still staring at him with shocked confusion, Kieran explains, “Boss and I are luring out a rival kingpin who has been relentlessly targeting our organization.”

“But,” You tilt Your head, still trying to process what has been said to You, “why are you dressed as a woman?”

Vibrant red colors Kieran’s cheeks, amplifying his beauty. He avoids meeting Your eyes as he explains, “The dirtbag has a specific type of woman and I’m the only one who matches the description. Luke’s sick so…” he rubs the back of his neck.

An awkward silence envelopes around the both of you. It is only interrupted by Sylus’ chuckle. 

As if remembering his existence, Your entire body flushes in embarrassment as Your behavior from earlier caught up to You.  

“So you’ve been warming up my bed?” His eyebrow rises when You turn to face him, “I’ve been wondering why I’ve been sleeping so restfully the past few days.”

Mortified, Your hands shoot out to push Sylus away but he catches Your wrists in a strong grip, “You’re not going to let this go, are you?” 

Sylus leans forward, his lips a hair's breadth away from yours, “Never.” 

[goblinontour]

This Love Starved Heart Of Mine

he’s tired…

warnings: dad!alex, fluff, talking, eventual smut, handjob, fingering, fucking

word count: 8.6k

The stains on his slacks were a mystery he had neither the energy nor desire to solve. A smudge of something pale and sticky on his thigh could’ve been formula. His knee was streaked with something brown — coffee, maybe, though it was too far down for that to make sense. He wouldn’t dwell on the rest, the older stains faded into the fabric, their origins forgotten or ignored. He couldn’t remember. He didn’t care. The smattering on his shirt, though — that was fresh. A pale orange, probably from the mashed sweet potato Poppy had decided belonged anywhere but her mouth.  

He stared at the mess on his chest as if it were an accusation. He’d wiped it earlier, hadn’t he? Or maybe that was yesterday. God, he didn’t even know anymore.  

What he did know was that he couldn’t do this. Not alone. He’d thought he couldn’t do it at all, but this — this endless symphony of crying, cooking, cleaning, existing — was definitely impossible solo.  

The hum of the range hood over the stove grew louder, like a dull roar against his temples, even though it had been on for barely five minutes. A pot of something — a soup he was loosely following a recipe for — bubbled on the back burner, the spoon lying crooked in the pot like it was waiting for him to do something.  

But he couldn’t.  

Alex’s hands trembled over the cutting board, the knife clenched too tightly in his grip. He was halfway through dicing carrots — well, maybe a third of the way, if he was being honest. The pieces on the board were uneven, some chunks too big, some practically shaved. He didn’t care. None of it mattered.  

Because from the baby monitor propped precariously against the salt shaker, Poppy’s cries sliced through the air. Loud and clear. He didn’t need the video feed to know what it looked like. She’d be on her back, her face red and scrunched, little fists flailing at the unfairness of the world.  

The sound stabbed through him, sharper than the knife he was holding. He’d always thought it was supposed to get easier, that eventually, he’d adjust to…to everything. But it hadn’t. If anything, it felt worse. More oppressive. More constant.  

He set the knife down — or tried to. Instead, the blade sank into the cutting board, embedding itself with a soft crunch of wood. His chest heaved as he leaned forward, both hands gripping the edge of the counter.  “I can’t do this.” he muttered, his voice shaking as he stared blankly at the baby monitor. His reflection glared back at him in the dark screen, overlaid with the grainy image of her squirming. His words came again, quieter this time, barely audible over the din of the kitchen. “I can’t- fuck, I can’t-”  

None of it felt like enough. He wasn’t enough.  

And then, faintly at first, he heard the familiar rhythm of your footsteps in the hallway.  

“Sorry it took so long, baby.” you murmured, your voice drifting into the kitchen like sunlight after a storm.  

Alex straightened instinctively, though his body still felt stiff and leaden. Relief hit him in a wave, so fast it almost made him dizzy. The mere sound of you was enough to pull him back from the edge. You stepped into the kitchen, shrugging off your coat and tossing it toward the back of a chair. Your gaze landed on him, and you froze.  

“Hey, Al.” Your tone shifted immediately, soft and careful in a way that made his throat tighten. “You alright?”  

He nodded too quickly, his jaw tightening as he forced himself to meet your eyes. “Yeah…yeah.” His voice cracked on the second ‘yeah’ but he didn’t stop. He needed to say something, anything, to deflect. “You should-” He gestured vaguely toward the baby monitor, holding it up in one hand like it was a lifeline. “She’s-”  

You didn’t wait for him to finish. “Yeah.” Kicking off your shoes, you crossed the room in three quick strides. He watched as you disappeared up the stairs, your voice softening as you murmured something — maybe to Poppy, maybe to yourself. He couldn’t tell.  

His hands trembled as he ran them through his hair, tugging lightly at the strands like it might help clear the fog in his brain. The wailing had stopped. Just like that, the silence felt louder than the crying ever had.  

Fuck, Alex, you can’t think the world’s gonna end every time, he thought, the words landing sharp in his mind. He took a shaky breath and forced himself to push — push past the weight, push himself up, both figuratively and quite literally. His hands braced the counter as he straightened, his legs stiff.  

The knife still stuck out of the cutting board, its edge caught in the groove it had made. He reached for it, his grip careful, and plucked it free with a soft scrape. For a moment, he just stared at the mark left behind, his thumb running over the shallow scar in the wood. He could fix it, probably. Sand it down, oil the surface — make it like new again.  

Maybe.  

Maybe it didn’t need replacing. Maybe things could be solved and not thrown away so easily.  

He’d fix it.

Before he could linger too long on the thought, he heard your voice, soft and full of that almost-laughter you got whenever you talked to her.  

“Say hi to Dada.” you murmured.  

It wasn’t quite the over-the-top baby voice you’d both sworn you’d never use. You’d laughed about it, once — vowed you wouldn’t be those parents, with their ridiculous high-pitched cooing and singsong nonsense. But then she had arrived, and somehow, somehow, you both caught yourselves doing it. Even Alex.  

She cooed back, her little voice bubbling like carbonation in a glass. His chest still felt tight, the remnants of earlier panic clinging stubbornly to him, but he moved toward the sound. Slowly, carefully, like it was fragile and he might shatter it if he got too close.  

Her arms flailed, fingers curling and uncurling in something that looked almost purposeful. Joy, he thought. She was happy. Not just generally, but specifically. Happy to see him.  

“Where’s Dada?” you asked her, like she might actually answer.  

And she did.  

With an awkward jerk of her chubby arm, she pointed directly at him. Her smile grew impossibly wider, her face lighting up in a way that still caught him off guard every time. It was a real smile, a choice, not just a reflexive grimace. His breath hitched, his throat tightening as the thought hit him harder than it should have. He never got used to it — the way she could do something so simple and make him feel like the floor was falling out from under him.  

He reached for his jaw, grabbing it and tugging, trying to snap himself out of the trance. His fingertips pressed hard into his skin, the roughness of his calluses grounding him.  

“Hi.” he said, his voice cracking a little. 

“She missed you.” you said gently, your gaze flicking between him and Poppy. You weren’t teasing, not like you might’ve been on another day. You knew exactly how fragile he was in that moment.  

Alex swallowed hard, willing himself to keep it together as he stepped closer. He reached out, his hand brushing her tiny fist before letting her grab his finger. Her grip was surprisingly strong for someone so small. She tugged, babbling incoherently, her gaze fixed on him with such intensity that he felt like he might unravel.  

“I missed you, too.” he whispered, his words directed at her but meant for both of you.  

Poppy let out another happy noise, a gurgle that morphed into something closer to a giggle, and she leaned forward, her little arms reaching toward Alex, fingers curling and uncurling as if she was trying to grab him through the air.  

“You wanna go to Dada?” you said softly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Say daaaa-daaa.” you coaxed, drawing out the syllables in that sweet, singsong way.  

Alex’s lips curved upward, though he tried not to make a big deal of it. He crouched down slowly, the strain in his lower back making itself known with a sharp twinge. His already misaligned spine didn’t thank him for it, but he pushed through, lowering himself until his face was level with hers. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her little body, to smell the faint powdery scent of baby lotion and something vaguely milk-like clinging to her.

“Come ‘ere, Pop.” he whispered, his voice low and gravelly, as though speaking too loud might scare her off. “Come to Dada.”  

“Da-da.” you repeated, nodding encouragingly at her as if she might mirror your enthusiasm.  

Instead of saying the word — or lunging into Alex’s arms like some moment of cinematic perfection — she smacked him square in the face.  

Alex froze, his mouth slightly open in surprise, the sting of her palm radiating across his cheek. She’s got a mean right hook for someone who can barely hold her own bottle, he thought. He blinked at her, and then at you, his hand coming up to rub at the spot, which hurt only faintly, not as much as the blow to his pride.  

“She gets that from you.” he muttered, casting you a sidelong glance.  

“She does not.” you said, though your laughter betrayed you. “Don’t take it personally.” you said, trying to sound serious. “She slaps me all the time. It’s how she says ‘I love you.’”  

“Great. So instead of words, we’re raising her to communicate through violence?” She was grinning wide, her chubby cheeks pink with delight, completely oblivious to her crime. “Well, maybe I deserved that one.” He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he reached for her again. “Come ‘ere, you little gremlin.”  

He kissed your cheek, a quick, grateful press of his lips, before turning his attention to her. “Hiya, Pop.” He pressed his lips to her cheek, warm and impossibly soft, before nuzzling his nose against her temple. She let out a happy squeal, her hands finding his face again. This time, instead of slapping, her fingers grabbed at his nose, her little nails scratching lightly as she babbled something unintelligible. Her eyes were wide and bright, her gummy smile so wide it made his chest ache.  

“She loves you, you know.” you said, leaning against the counter as you watched them. 

He glanced up at you, his brows furrowing slightly, though his lips stayed pressed to her cheek. “Yeah?”  

“Yeah.” You smiled softly, crossing your arms as you tilted your head. “You’re her favourite person. I’m a little jealous.”  

“Yeah.” he said quietly, more to himself than to you. “She’s mine too.”  

“Dada.” you said softly, testing it again as you smiled at the two of them.  

Alex raised a brow, looking down at her. “What do you think, Pop? You gonna say it?”  

Her face scrunched, lips parting as if she were about to make some grand declaration. There was a tiny pause — just enough for Alex to feel a flicker of hope. Then she let out a loud, enthusiastic noise that was more of a squawk than a word, clapping her little hands against his chest as if to punctuate her babble.  

“Close enough.” he said, his voice soft with amusement as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.  

But you weren’t about to let it go.  

“Daaa-daaa.” you tried again. You leaned in a little, your hands gesturing toward Alex like he was the most exciting thing in the world. He was, even if he couldn't see that. “You can do it, Pop. Say Dada!” She blew a raspberry, the sound wet and loud, making Alex snort. “She’s close.” you insisted, crouching down beside him. “Come on, baby.”  

Alex sighed, shifting Poppy in his arms as her attention drifted to his shirt collar. She grabbed a fistful of the fabric, tugging at it like it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen. He glanced at you, a faint crease forming between his brows. You always had this unshakable belief that she was on the verge of something amazing — every coo, every wave of her little hands filled you with anticipation. He admired it, that optimism of yours. But today, it made something heavy settle in his chest.  

“Say it, Poppy.” you encouraged, wagging your fingers at her. “Daaa-daaa.”  

He rolled his eyes but didn’t stop you, though he felt the faintest pang of guilt as you kept trying. You were so patient, so persistent, and he didn’t want to rain on your optimism. Still, after the god knows which round of those exaggerated two syllables, he couldn’t help but interject.  

“She’s not gonna say it.” he mumbled, almost to himself.  

“What?” you asked, tilting your head.  

“She’s not gonna say it.” he repeated, his voice quiet but firmer this time. “She’s a baby. She doesn’t know what we’re saying.”  

“She’s so close.” you said gently, your smile faltering just a little.  

“She’s not.” he replied, shaking his head as he looked down at her. “She’s just…she’s not there yet.”  

You glanced at him, your brow furrowing slightly. “But-”  

“Love,” he interrupted, tilting his head toward you, “she’s probably tired of us pestering her. Let’s give her a break.”  

You frowned slightly, watching him. He wasn’t looking at you, his gaze fixed on the floor now, his shoulders tense.  

“Alex.” you said softly.  

He didn’t respond. He shifted Poppy in his arms, holding her a little closer, though he couldn’t shake the weight pressing against his chest. Why do I care so much? he thought, annoyed with himself. He couldn’t stop the spiral — thoughts tumbling over each other, picking apart every small failure.  

Maybe I’m not doing enough. Maybe she doesn’t know because I’m not around enough. Maybe she doesn’t…

“Alex.” you said again, firmer this time. Your hand found his shoulder, snapping him out of it.  

He looked up at you, his brow furrowed, and you saw it then — the faint sheen of worry in his eyes, the way his jaw was set too tight, like he was bracing for something.  

“She’ll get there. You know that, right?”  

He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

You sighed, your shoulders drooping slightly, but you nodded. “Alright.” you murmured, brushing your fingers against Poppy’s cheek. “We’ll stop, Pop. No more pressure.”  

But just as Alex opened his mouth to thank you for relenting, a small, hesitant sound broke through the quiet.   

Both of you froze.  

Alex’s eyes widened as he stared at Poppy, who was now grinning up at him like she knew exactly what she’d just done.  

“Did she-?” His voice trailed off, his heart pounding as he glanced at you.  

“She said it.” you whispered. “She said it.”  

Alex barely heard you, the words sinking into his chest like pebbles dropped into a still lake. She said it, the syllables echoed faintly in his mind. He wanted to laugh, to smile, to do something to match the moment, but his body didn’t seem to know how to react. Afraid to breathe too deeply in case it all shattered.  

“Dada!” she said again, louder this time, her tiny voice wobbly but unmistakable.  

That broke him.  

Alex felt something catch in his throat, a sharp mix of disbelief and joy. His chest tightened, his heart stuttering before kicking into overdrive. Slowly, as if afraid of startling her, he looked down at her, her wide, shining eyes staring back up at him. His smile spread slowly, unbidden and unstoppable, until it felt like it might split his face in two.  

“Good girl.” he whispered. He leaned forward to press a kiss to her warm cheek. “That’s my girl.” he murmured, barely audible as his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths.  

“She’s a genius.” you said, half-laughing, half-crying. Your voice snapped him out of the trance just enough for him to notice you were leaning into him, your head resting lightly against his shoulder.  

He should’ve been relieved. He was relieved. But the edges of the moment started to fray as his mind looped back on itself, until his hand twitched against Poppy’s back, his fingers moving in a restless, uneven rhythm.   

“Alex.” you said softly, your voice cutting through the noise in his head.  

He blinked, looking up at you with wide eyes, like he hadn’t even realised he’d drifted away. “Hmm?”  

Your brows knit together just slightly as you studied him. “She said it.” you repeated, more gently this time, as if trying to coax him back to the present. “You heard her, right? She said it, and she’ll keep saying it.”  

He nodded, his lips twitching upward in an attempt at a smile. “Yeah. I heard her.” 

“It’s okay to let yourself enjoy it, you know.”  

Alex let out a soft, shaky laugh, his head bowing slightly. “I’m trying.” he admitted.  

You gave him a small, knowing smile, your fingers brushing against his. “I know you are.”  

Then, with the same quiet authority that always managed to steady him, you said, “I’ll take over dinner.”  

He hesitated, his gaze flicking toward the stove where the pot still bubbled quietly. “It’s almost done.” he said automatically, his voice trailing off.  

“Seriously.” you interrupted, your hand squeezing his shoulder lightly. “Go sit down. You’ve earned it.”  

He looked at you then, really looked, and saw the understanding in your eyes. Not pity, not impatience — just a steady reassurance that he didn’t have to carry everything on his own.  

Alex exhaled slowly, his shoulders loosening as he nodded. “Alright, alright.” he murmured, his lips curving into a faint, grateful smile.  

“Good.” You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek before stepping toward the stove.  

“Alright, Pop.” he said softly, turning toward the living room. “Let’s go relax, yeah?”  

Alex settled onto the couch with a quiet groan, leaning back into the cushions as he adjusted Poppy in his lap. Her bright eyes met his again, and he smiled despite himself, the heaviness in his chest beginning to lift.  

“You’re a little genius.” he murmured, brushing his fingers over her curls.  

Poppy responded with a loud, cheerful babble, her tiny hands smacking against his chest like punctuation marks. Before he realised what was happening, one of her fingers poked at his cheek, then slid up toward his nose.  

“Hey, what are you-” Alex started, but his words cut off with a muffled grunt as she, determined as ever, managed to wedge her little fingers into his nostrils. “Christ, Pop.” he muttered, squirming as he tried to gently guide her hand away. She giggled in response and shoved harder. He groaned, his face scrunching comically. “You’re relentless, aren’t you? Just like your mum.”  

Despite the discomfort, he didn’t make her stop right away. He let her tug and poke and prod because…well, because she was his. His little girl, with her impossibly tiny fingers and her boundless energy and her smile that made his chest ache in ways he still didn’t fully understand.  

“Alright, that’s enough now.” he said softly, finally grabbing her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “You’re gonna rip my big nose off, you little gremlin.”  

She squealed in delight, her legs kicking against his lap as she laughed. Alex couldn’t help but laugh too, shaking his head as he adjusted her so she was sitting more comfortably.  

“Are you hungry, Pop?” he asked, tilting his head to look at her more closely. “Hmm? Is that why you’re trying to dismantle me? Did you miss dinner while I was busy mucking about in the kitchen?”  

Poppy tilted her head in response, mimicking his gesture with such accuracy that it caught him off guard.  

“You missed Mama, didn’t you?” he said, his voice softening as he brushed a hand over her hair. “You always get a bit grumpy when she’s not here, huh? Me too, you know. Yeah? You missed her loads, didn’t you? I get it. She’s the best, isn’t she?”  

She clapped her hands in agreement, her face lighting up.  

“She’s clever, that one.” Alex continued as he leaned in slightly. “Always knows what to do. Keeps me from completely losing it most days.” He sighed, his thumb gently tracing circles on her little hand. “Don’t tell her, but I missed her too.”  

She made another noise, high-pitched, and Alex chuckled. “Yeah, you’ve got it all figured out, haven’t you? Don’t need words when you’ve got that smile. You know,” he murmured, “you’re kind of the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”  

Poppy didn’t respond, of course, but the way she rested her head against his chest — her little fingers curling into his shirt — felt like answer enough. 

You called him over, your voice warm and light but tinged with that familiar sense of knowing. “Alex, come here. Dinner’s ready.”  

He shifted Poppy in his arms and stood with an exaggerated groan, the sound somewhere between playful and genuine. “Getting old, Pop.” he murmured, glancing down at her. “You’re not making this any easier, you know.”  

“Is it okay?” he asked as he approached the table, nodding toward the pot on the stove.  

“Yeah, it’s good. Smells amazing.” you said as you sat down. “Can’t wait to eat, I’m starving.”  

He smiled faintly at your words, placing Poppy in her high chair before lowering himself into the seat next to you. “Eat, eat. I’ll try to get her to eat something too.” he said, nodding toward the little one.  

“You need to eat too, baby.” you replied as you placed a plate in front of him.  

Alex didn’t respond. He was looking at you, his gaze quiet and intense in a way that made you pause. There was something in the way he watched you that felt almost fragile, like he was trying to memorise the moment before it slipped through his fingers.  

“Alex.” you prompted gently, but he still didn’t look away.  

He blinked, as if suddenly realising he was staring, and shifted his focus to Poppy. She had taken one of his fingers into her mouth, nibbling on it. He didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t mind.  

“I know,” he said softly, “but can we just…”  

He trailed off, his free hand brushing over Poppy’s curls as his jaw tightened.  

“Alex-” you began, but he cut you off, his voice trembling slightly as he turned back to you.  

“She said it.” he whispered, the words barely audible. His eyes, glassy with unshed tears, met yours, pleading and vulnerable. “She…don’t start that now, please.”  

Your mouth opened to respond, but his expression stopped you. There was a rawness in his face that you recognized too well — a deep, unspoken fear that if you brought it up, you’d ruin the delicate balance of the moment.  

“Okay.” you said finally.  

Dinner was quiet. The kind of quiet that settled in like a heavy fog, where the occasional clink of cutlery against a plate felt unnaturally loud. Poppy babbled here and there, filling the silence with her tiny, nonsensical words, and Alex smiled at her, like always. But his energy was flagging. He was tired, worn thin in a way that even you could feel across the table. You knew he was trying, trying for you and for her, trying to keep the atmosphere light. And it worked, sort of, enough to make it through the meal. But you could see the strain beneath it, the cracks that threatened to show when he thought no one was looking.

That smile didn’t follow him when the day finally wound down and the two of you climbed into bed. Under the covers, where the quiet wasn’t tempered by the background noise his face fell into something harder. That look you’d come to dread, his “mad kitten” look, as you’d called it, where his lips pressed into a tight line, like he was physically holding himself together with sheer will.

The dark made it worse. It always did. Shadows obscured the warmth in his features, leaving behind that stubborn jawline and the glassy glint of his eyes when he didn’t blink fast enough.

“Al…” you whispered, trying to coax him out of it.

You could feel him debating it, using the dark as a shield, letting the silence stretch between you.

“I’m fine.” he said finally.

“You-”

“I’m fine.” he repeated, cutting you off quickly, but not sharply. “I promise.”

There was a note of insistence in his tone, as if he needed to convince you, or maybe himself, that it was true. Before you could press further, his body shifted. He moved toward you, wrapping his arms around your middle and twisting you into his grip with that quiet urgency that always made your chest ache. His chest pressed firmly against your back, the heat of him bleeding through the thin fabric of your shirt and you could feel his breath against your shoulder like he was trying to regulate it but failing.

“I’m just…tired.” he murmured, the words muffled as his face found the crook of your neck.

His sigh followed, long and drawn-out, like it was pulled from somewhere deep. His arms tightened around you, his hold becoming almost unbearably heavy. It wasn’t just physical — you could feel the emotional gravity of him, like he was sinking into you, clinging to you to keep himself afloat.

“You don’t have to hold onto it all by yourself, you know.” you said, your voice a quiet plea in the dark, placing your hand over his arm, your fingers tracing slow circles against his skin.

“I’m not.” he whispered after a long pause, his voice barely audible. “I’ve got you.” Bittersweet and honest in a way that made your throat tighten. You turned slightly in his arms, just enough to see the edge of his face.

“I’m here.” you said, your hand moving up to brush against his cheek. “I’m always here.”

Alex closed his eyes at that, his head dipping slightly as if the weight of those words was too much. He pressed his forehead against your shoulder, his grip on you never loosening. “I know.” he said again, softer this time, almost like a prayer.

“Baby?” you called softly. Alex’s body was pressed so firmly against yours that you could feel every rise and fall of his chest. The way he rubbed himself against you sent a subtle shiver down your spine that you tried, and failed, to hide.

“Mhm?” he hummed in response, his voice thick with exhaustion but carrying a gentle warmth. He pressed his face into your neck again, nuzzling you like he couldn’t get close enough. “You smell nice.” he murmured.

“Do I?”

“Yeah,” he replied, “I missed you today.”

His palms roamed your body, spreading warmth wherever they touched. He wasn’t in a hurry — it was almost absentminded, the way his hands explored. Slowly, they began to search for the hem of your shirt, his fingertips brushing against your bare skin — hesitant, like he was trying to go unnoticed, unsure of himself.

You knew what that meant — he was testing the waters, weighing his own energy against his desire, afraid to disappoint you or himself if he couldn’t deliver. 

“Alex?” you asked gently, your hand brushing against his side.

“Yeah?” he replied, his voice quieter this time, muffled by the way his face stayed buried against you.

“Do you wanna…?” you suggested, leaving the rest unsaid but entirely clear.

His breath hitched, just for a second, and then he groaned softly, twisting himself further into you. His face ducked lower, pressing into your shoulder like he couldn’t bear to look you in the eye. “Yeah, but…I’m so fucking tired.” he admitted, almost apologetic.

You felt him stretch his legs, his body shifting as he intertwined them with yours, wrapping you up in his warmth and his weariness all at once. He sighed again, though this time it was more of a soft, frustrated mewl, a sound that broke your heart a little.

“Can we do it in the morning?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know I’m better in the mornings…at night, I just…I get too in my head, and I can’t…” His words trailed off, lost somewhere between exhaustion and vulnerability.

You didn’t need him to finish. You understood.

Your hand found its way to the back of his head, your fingers threading through his hair, scratching lightly at the roots. It was oilier than usual, and you knew that detail alone was enough to bother him, though you wouldn’t dream of holding it against him. You could feel the weight of the week, of the day, in the way he leaned into your touch.

“I have to go to work again early for some-” you began. The sentence was interrupted by a deep stretch and a groan, his body shifting again to press his lips to the corner of your mouth. 

“How early?” he asked, his voice still groggy.

“Early.” you said, the word carrying a hint of regret as your fingers continued their soothing motions.

“Fuck…” He sighed, the sound dragging out as he let himself sink deeper into you. “Okay.” His hands slid back under your top, the roughness of his palms contrasting with the gentle way he touched you. They skimmed over your ribs, fingers spreading wide to take in as much of you as they could. Slowly, he began to push the fabric upward, revealing more of your bare skin, but he hesitated just short of pulling it completely off.

“It’s fine, Al-” you started, not wanting him to feel pressured. Your hand came up to gently push him away, but he caught your wrist lightly.

“No, no…” he murmured, shaking his head. His brows furrowed, and he shook his head slightly, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the base of your throat. “I can- I want to. I just…” He trailed off, exhaling shakily as his eyes dropped to the space between you, as if his body wasn’t cooperating the way he wanted it to.

“Need a hand?” 

He let out a breath, half a laugh, half a sigh, and nodded. “Yeah.” 

You reached for the hem of your top, tugging it over your head and letting it fall to the floor beside the bed. Alex’s eyes lifted, softening instantly as they took in the newly bared skin. He swallowed hard, his lips parting as his hands reached for you again. His lips followed the curve of your chest, pressing slow, reverent kisses to the soft swell of your breasts. His stubble scratched against your skin, and you couldn’t help but gasp when his teeth grazed and nibbled on the delicate skin just below your collarbone.

“Fuck…” you murmured, his grunt in response muffled against your chest. He kissed the same spot again, as if trying to chase away the faint sting with warmth.

Your fingers slipped down then, over the planes of his stomach before slipping to the waistband of his boxers. He tensed slightly, almost imperceptibly, but didn’t stop you. Slowly, you slid your hand inside, fingers brushing against him. He was soft beneath your touch, his body warm but still reluctant to respond. You stroked him gently, giving him time, your movements slow and deliberate. He twitched slightly, but not as much as you both hoped.

“Shit.” he muttered, voice strained and tinged with frustration. “I’m sorry…I-” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head against you. “I just- I’m sorry. I’m so fucking tired, and I-”

“Hey.” you interrupted softly, your free hand coming up to thread through his hair again. You scratched lightly, feeling the tension in his body as you worked to soothe him. “Don’t apologise.”

“I just can’t get my head right.” he said, his voice tight. He sighed heavily, his breath shuddering against you. “I want to- fuck, I really want to, but…”

“But nothing.” Your fingers continued to stroke him lightly, not to pressure him, but to reassure him, to remind him you weren’t in any rush. “It’s okay, Alex. We’ve got time. It’s not a race.”

He let out a soft groan, half from the sensation of your hand and half from the weight of his own thoughts. “You’re too good to me.” he muttered, pressing another kiss to the top of your chest.

“I love you.” you replied simply. “That’s not gonna change just because you’re tired. You’ve been running yourself ragged all day, Al. Your body’s just trying to catch up.”

He let out another sigh, this one softer, and tilted his head up to look at you. His eyes were glassy, his lips parted as if he wanted to argue but couldn’t find the words.

“You’re allowed to be tired.” you added, your thumb brushing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, but I wanted to…I wanted to be good for you.” he murmured, his voice cracking slightly on the last words.

“You are good for me.” you said, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “You always are.”

As if testing himself, his hips shifted slightly against your hand. “I’m trying.” 

“I know.” you replied, kissing him again, this time on the lips, reminding him that this wasn’t about performance or expectation but the two of you. His lips trembled against yours, but he kissed you back, his hands finding their way to your hips. He held you firmly but tenderly, his thumbs stroking small circles into your skin.

“I’ll get there.” he murmured, his voice thick but steadier now. “I’m gon’ do my best…” his lips brushing the curve of your neck “to fuck you good.”

“Yeah?” you whispered.

“Promise.” 

He let out a low, shaky groan as his hand squeezed your arse, pulling you closer against him. His lips returned to your chest, latching onto the soft flesh with a warm, open-mouthed kiss that sent a shiver through your spine. His hips bucked gently into your hand, still soft but slowly responding, the friction encouraging him more than he might have expected. 

“Talk to me.” he murmured against your skin, punctuating his words with another kiss, this time right over your heart.

“About what?” 

“Anything.” he gasped, his breath catching when you tugged just a bit harder. His head tilted back slightly, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he tried to stay focused. “Anything to distract me from thinking too hard.”

“Okay, let’s see…” you started, the rhythm of your hand unbroken as you searched for something that might pull him out of his head. “How about the fact that she said her first word today?” you offered, your voice lifting slightly as you rubbed your thumb along his length.

Alex let out a short laugh, half-gasping as his hips moved with more intention now. “You think I forgot?” he asked, his tone teasing despite the breathlessness. “I’ll be telling everyone about that for years, love. Even strangers in the queue at Tesco.”

“Yeah?” you grinned, leaning down to kiss his temple. “Bet you’ll exaggerate it too. ‘Oh, she looked right at me, so serious, and said ‘Dada’ like she was delivering some grand speech.’”

“She did though. You saw her. Our girl was bloody profound.”

“She had food all over her face.” you countered, laughing softly.

“That’s just charisma.” he replied, his voice softer now, though his hips bucked again, more firmly.

“Uh-huh, sure.” you teased, your fingers sliding down further to cup him gently, eliciting a groan that vibrated against your skin.

“More,” he mumbled, his voice husky.

“More talking or more touching?” you teased, your hand giving him a firmer stroke, feeling him start to harden properly against your palm.

“Both.” His hips moved in small, involuntary motions against your hand, but he still wasn’t quite where he wanted to be. “Something else this time. Anything- just not…”

“Not what?” 

He let out a shaky laugh, his head shaking slightly. “Not about her.” he admitted, his voice low and embarrassed. “Feels weird…when you’ve got your hand on my dick.”

You laughed and Alex groaned again, though this time it was out of exasperated affection. “Fair point.” you teased, giving him a soft squeeze that earned you a sharp inhale. “Okay, let’s think…”

“Yeah, think of something good.” he muttered, his lips trailing a line of warm, lazy kisses down the side of your neck. “Something sexy or ridiculous, just…”

“Alright,” you said, “remember that time we got locked out of the old flat because you thought you could ‘jimmy’ the door with a credit card?”

“Oh, come on, don’t remind me.” he groaned, though there was a smile in his voice. “I was just trying to impress you.”

“You were trying to impress me by breaking into your own flat?” you teased, your thumb brushing over the sensitive underside of his cock, drawing a quiet gasp from him.

“It almost worked.” he said, mock-defensively. 

“It really didn’t.” you replied, laughing softly. “We ended up waiting outside for two hours until your mate showed up with the spare key.”

“Yeah, and you still went out with me after that.” he shot back, his lips curling into a smirk against your skin.

“Only because you bought me chips and promised never to try anything that stupid again.” you countered, leaning in to press a kiss to his jaw.

He hummed in response, his lips seeking yours for a lazy, lingering kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. “I’d buy you chips every day if it meant I’d get to keep you.” he murmured against your lips.

“That’s very sweet.” you said softly, “but you don’t need to bribe me with chips. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good…because I’m not sure what I’d do without you.” he whispered. “Morning’s overrated anyway.” he mumbled with a smirk, his confidence finally peeking through, making you laugh softly as he pulled you even closer.

His hand slipped beneath the waistband of your panties. The first tentative stroke of his fingers over your folds pulled a quiet sound from your lips, a soft sigh that made his chest tighten. “Yeah? Mhm…you’re real wet.”

He hooked a leg over your waist, tugging himself closer and shifting his weight to make it easier to manoeuvre. With a grumble, he raised his arms over his head, his eyes flicking down at you with a playful tilt to his brow. “Help me take off my shirt.” — somewhere between impatient and endearing.

You chuckled softly, reaching up to grip the hem and pulling it up and off. His messy hair stuck up at odd angles from the friction, and you couldn’t resist brushing your fingers through it as he leaned back down, his lips grazing your jaw.

With the shirt discarded, Alex’s attention shifted back to you. His hand pushed your panties down just enough to free his wrist, not bothering to remove them entirely as he slid his middle finger into you. The stretch was perfect. His hips rutted gently against your thigh, seeking friction as he worked his finger deeper into you, his cock hot and heavy, twitching with every little noise you made. 

“That’s good, Al.” you moaned again, your hips moving against his hand, trying to take more of him.

“Yeah? You like that?” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear, his voice strained but steady. He added a second finger, the stretch making you cry out sharply, and he groaned in response. “Mhm…so tight.” he said, his hips jerking reflexively, his arousal growing harder to ignore.

“Just…more.” you gasped, arching into his touch as his thumb pressed against your clit, circling.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” he whispered, his words muffled against your skin as he kissed and nipped at the flesh, his scruff leaving a warm, tingling trail in its wake. His fingers moved faster now, just enough to drag a broken moan from your lips.

“Alex…” you breathed, the sound of his name on your lips making his hips jerk harder against your thigh.

“I’ve got you.” he whispered, “I’ll take care of you, love. Just let me make you feel good.”

You arched into his touch, your hands moving to push his boxers down over his hips. He groaned softly as the fabric slid away, freeing him entirely. His cock was still firming, enough to feel hopeful again.

“Yeah…” he breathed, his voice low and thick as he worked his fingers deeper into you, the sound of them going in and out suddenly louder. “That’s my girl…all wet for me. Missed this.” he mumbled against your skin, his voice muffled and hazy. “Missed ya.”

You nodded, unable to form words as his pace quickened, the rhythm of his fingers a barely restrained desperation. “Fuck…you’re perfect.” he whispered, his lips grazing yours in a fleeting kiss that left you aching for more. 

Despite the ache in his shoulders and the subtle burn building in his forearm, Alex kept his focus on you. The way your body moved, the sounds you made — it was all the motivation he needed to push past the weariness settling in his bones. His jaw tightened briefly, a hint of exhaustion flickering across his face, but he blinked it away before you could see. He made sure you didn’t. Every time his movements faltered for even a second, he redirected you — his thumb brushing over your clit with just enough pressure to steal your breath, his lips peppering your neck with kisses that made your body shudder.

Your hands slid down his back, your nails grazing lightly over the curve of his spine, and he hissed softly. “You’re gonna make me come before we even get to the good part.” you teased, your voice shaking slightly.

He chuckled, the sound low and rough, as he kissed you again, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your toes curl. “This is the good part.” he muttered. He curled his fingers inside you just right, and your body tensed, your breath hitching audibly.

“Alex…” you whimpered, your head falling back against the pillow as his thumb pressed harder.

“That’s it.” he murmured, his voice steady despite the faint tremble in his arms. “Let me hear you, love.” You gasped again. His lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, “That’s my girl. Let go for me.”

And you did. Your body arched into him as you came, your moans filling the room as he worked you through it, fingers slowing but never stopping. He kissed you softly, his lips lingering against yours, letting you ride it out at your own pace.

“Beautiful.” he murmured, his voice thick with awe as he finally withdrew his hand. His fingers glistened in the dim light when he brought them to his lips, his eyes locked on yours as he licked them clean. A low groan escaped him at the taste, the sound vibrating against your skin as he leaned back in.

“Alex.” you whispered, your voice still shaky as you reached for him.

“Shh…” he said softly, shifting his weight to pull your panties all the way off. His movements were just a fraction slower than usual, his body heavier as he repositioned himself between your thighs, but he masked it. 

When he slipped inside of you, a soft gasp escaped him, his breath hitching as his shoulders gave the faintest shiver. He paused for a moment, his forehead dropping briefly to your collarbone as he adjusted to the warmth of you, the closeness. It was almost as if he needed a second to collect himself, to process the way you fit around him so perfectly. His focus seemed inward, like he was trying to keep himself tethered, to keep from drifting too far into his thoughts, the drag of him inside you unhurried, as if the intimacy itself was enough to sustain him.

“Al…” you whispered, brushing your hands through his hair, tugging gently to pull his face closer to yours.

He didn’t respond, just shifted forward until his chest was flush against yours, his arms wrapping tightly around your back. His movements grew lazier, his thrusts almost absent-minded, and then he stilled entirely, buried deep inside you as he pulled you tighter against him.

“C’mere.” he murmured and hooked his leg around your waist, the strength in his arms holding you securely as he twisted his body, rolling the two of you onto your sides. The shift was gentle. You went willingly. He kept you close, his arms curling tighter around your back, and when you settled, he pressed his forehead to yours. His gaze was soft but so heavy with unspoken truths that it made your chest ache.

“You okay?” you asked softly, reaching up to cradle his cheek in your palm.

He nodded, but the movement was subtle, barely more than a twitch, and tightness in his jaw told you there was more. Instead of answering, he leaned forward and kissed you softly, the press of his lips lingering.

“Just wanted to hold you.” he finally said. “Needed to feel you close.”

“You’ve got me.” you whispered back, your hand stroking the back of his neck as you pressed your body closer to his. “Always.”

He sighed, the sound heavy but full of relief, and began to move again, his hips shifting slowly, almost cautiously. Your legs tangled together as his thrusts became a gentle rocking motion, his forehead still pressed to yours.

“Is this okay?” he murmured after a moment, his voice low and husky, the words almost lost in the sound of your breathing.

“It’s perfect.” you murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth as you reached down to grab his hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

His free hand slid down your back, holding you to him like he was afraid you’d slip away. There was an edge of desperation in the way his fingers dug into your skin, the way his hips stuttered slightly before he found his rhythm again. He wasn’t rushing, though — it wasn’t about chasing an end. He was savouring it, savouring you. The way he kissed you between each slow thrust, spoke louder than any words he could’ve said. 

Alex groaned softly, burying his face in your neck again as his pace quickened just enough to make your breath hitch. “Fuck…you feel so good.” he mumbled against your skin. His hand slid down to your thigh, lifting it higher around his waist to bring you even closer.

You could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding himself back even now, and you pressed your lips to his temple. “Let go, baby.” you whispered, your voice a soft encouragement as your fingers slid down his back. “I’ve got you.”

His breath hitched, and his pace faltered for just a moment before he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His movements grew more instinctive, his restraint slipping as he finally let himself sink, hips jerking forward in a way that felt less controlled, and then he stilled, deep inside you as his body trembled against yours.

“Fuck-” he whispered, the word drawn out as he let himself go.

It was with a quiet groan against your skin, his arms tightening around you as he held you close.

You held him through it, your hands smoothing over his back as his breathing slowly began to steady, face pressed into your neck, his body still pressed flush against yours, before he finally leaned back just enough to look at you.

“I love you.” he murmured, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

“I love you too.” you whispered back, holding him tighter, feeling the steady beat of his heart against yours as the world around you fell quiet.

Alex exhaled another deep, shaky breath, the tension in his shoulders finally melting away as he settled. “You’re everything.” he said quietly, the words almost lost as he buried his face in your hair.

He stayed there, his breath fanning against your skin in slow, warm exhalations, your bodies still connected in a way that made it feel like you were sharing the same heartbeat. His arms remained draped over you, heavy and firm, holding you close in a way that felt both protective and desperate. You thought he was just catching his breath, trying to calm the storm that had been building all day. But then you felt it — his grip loosened.

It wasn’t gradual, like he was letting go consciously. It happened all at once, his hands slipping from their secure hold to rest limply against your sides, the weight of them going heavy in a way that immediately caught your attention.

“Baby.” you whispered. You tilted your head to try and get a look at his face. He didn’t stir.

“Aly.” you tried again, brushing through his damp hair, pushing the strands away from his forehead. He didn’t react, not even a flicker of acknowledgment. Instead of responding, he shifted slightly, his body curling even closer to you. He made a small, soft noise — barely audible — as he burrowed further into you, pressing his face against your chest like he was trying to disappear there entirely, seeking refuge, breath tickling your skin.

Your heart softened as realisation dawned. He was asleep.

He made it ache too, all at once. You had seen how tired he was. The exhaustion he had carried — the tension in his shoulders, the weariness in his eyes, the quiet hesitations in his voice — had finally claimed him. You let your fingers continue their path through his hair, marvelling at how peaceful he looked now, his features slack and unburdened, his lips slightly parted as his breaths fell. It was such a stark contrast to the tension he so often carried.

“Sweetheart.” you murmured softly, more to yourself than to him, not expecting a response this time. You traced the line of his jaw, your thumb brushing lightly over the roughness. There was something different about it now, something softer, like sleep had stripped away all his worries and left just…him.

He shifted slightly when you moved, but he didn’t wake. Instead, his arm tightened around you — just for a moment, a subconscious reflex, like his sleeping body refused to let you go — before going slack again.

“Okay, okay.” you whispered, smiling to yourself as you adjusted under him. “I’m not going anywhere. Sleep, love.” you murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I’ve got you.”

The room was so quiet now, the faint hum of the heater and the occasional creak of the house the only sounds besides his breathing. You felt the rhythm of it, how it matched yours, slow and steady and calm.

You let your fingers drift lazily along his back, tracing patterns you weren’t even aware of. Every now and then, he’d shift slightly, almost imperceptibly, like his body was adjusting to make itself even closer to you.

It was a long time before you let yourself relax fully, but eventually, the warmth of him, the heaviness of his body pressed against yours, lulled you into a kind of peaceful stillness. You stared at the ceiling for a while, your hand still tangled in his hair, and wondered how he had managed to hold so much inside himself all day without breaking.

“I love you.” you whispered into the quiet, even though you knew he couldn’t hear you.

a/n: I’m a very sad lonely woman as you can see. Jus’ a girl. He’s just a baby. Lil’ bebe. Inspired by some reel I saw but I'm too lazy to get the link now.

[treeguzzler]

i love megumi

megumi who doesn’t know how to use his words to show his adoration and love towards you because he wasn’t really shown that stuff while growing up.

megumi who (to me) has physical touch as his love language.

MEGUMI who DEFINITELY yearns for your touch behind closed doors. the moment you shut the door for your dorm, he’s onto you like a cat chasing a laser. i can see him wrapping his arms around your waist, beckoning you to follow him to bed. he’ll bury his head in the crook of your neck and maybe, just maybe, sneak a few open mouthed kisses on your pulse. he’s definitely one of those guys that inhale your scent or whatever they can smell of you like a suffocating man. he just can’t get enough of you and your oh so sweet sweet smell, regardless of whether you’ve showered. and don’t forget, i never mentioned that you locked the door. in between his kisses and your fingers running through his hair and some back scratches, time passes really fast, and it’s time for dinner. nobara and yuji tried megumi’s dorm, but no one answered, despite the continuous knocking and ‘fushiguro!’s. i know they got worried and definitely ran to your room, swinging the door open and asking whether you’ve seen your boyfriend around.

“hey, fushiguro’s gone and- OHHH KUGISAKI IT’S HAPPENING”

“what’s happen- OHMYGOD ITADORI IT’S HAPPENING”

“get out.”

“oh c’mon fushiguro, don’t be sour about it”

“YEAH WE’LL SUPPORT BOTH OF YOU NO MATTER WHAT-”

“out if my room now.”

after some playful (not really) banter between the three of them (and the two getting the hint to leave you love birds alone), you're laying on your bed giggling about your sweet and adorable boyfriend while he's pouting in the crook of your neck, the tip of his ears completely red, arms definitely wrapped tighter around your waist. oh and you both definitely remembered to lock the door before your cuddle sessions after this encounter (not really).

just megumi fushiguro who absolutely loves, adores you with all his heart and soul, and wants to show it to you as much as possible, even if he can’t use his words to ^^

[tgmsunmontue]

2k Hangster - lovers to enemies to lovers.

                There are heavy indents in the carpet, the dust is so thick it’s almost become a felted layer beneath the bed and along the edge of the wall, as well as between the bedside table and bed base. Sure enough though, caught between the headboard support and bed base is a little black box, covered in dust. His phone is just to the other side and he picks it up, sliding it onto the bedside table without even bothering to look at the time.

                It’s a ring box.

                His first thought is that it must be his mom’s. This was her room before Ice and Mav repainted it and bought all knew furniture for him.

                So it can’t be hers.

                This was his room.

                He opens it and yeah, that’s a ring meant for a man’s finger.

                What the fuck.

I'm going to run rings around you forever if you let me

                Bradley’s lets out a sigh. He’s made multiple excuses not to come back, and the memories are more bittersweet than ever. This was his parent’s house, and then it was his and Jake’s little escape whenever they had time together between various deployments, spending time together and having as much sex as they possibly could before they parted again. He’d hoped that they could have made a serious go of it, but he knows now he was naïve to think he knew what he wanted when he was only twenty-eight. Not that he really knows now, five years later.

                He’s been back very sporadically, crashed on the sofa out of necessity, although he did change the sheets about three or four years ago. The house is musty and he walks around, throwing open all the windows and doors, watches dust kick up as he walks, the motes dancing in the rays of light making it look pretty. He turns the power on and carries out some basic checks; unattended there could be chewed wires or nests of all sorts.

                He strips the bed and chucks the sheets on to wash. Puts new sheets on although they smell just as musty. Hell. If he wants to actually live here he might want to consider buying a new bed and getting an entirely new linen cupboard, because he’s pretty sure there are holes caused by moths. He plugs in his phone to charge and falls asleep with the smell of mustiness tickling at his nose.

                When he wakes in the morning he reaches for his phone, wants to check the time because he suspects it’s far too fucking early to be awake. Of course he knocks it off the small bedside table and he grumbles under his breath and decides he can just go back to sleep. Later, when he wakes again, it’s a bit lighter but too dark to consider getting up. He reaches for the power cord and tugs like he’s bringing in a fish, and just like a fish his phone drops off the other end of the cord and he groans; rolls and reaches his hand down, fumbling for his phone.

                His fingers catch on something, and it’s hard, but it’s also not his phone. Damn it, he’s actually going to have to get on the floor and reach, maybe even find a torch to help him see what the fuck he’s doing. He feels around and the thing shifts and he has to tug it, can tell it’s a box of some sort and hopes like fuck it’s not connected to any wires and he’s not pulling out something that is meant to be wired into the wall.

                Deciding he better check before he accidentally electrocutes himself and becomes a nominee for the years Darwin Awards he turns on the bedside lamp and squints against the sudden light, can smell the dust on the bulb already starting to burn. Then he staggers to standing, shoves against the bedframe, which doesn’t budge but does make his legs feel a little bruised. It’s very fucking heavy. He remembers shifting his piano around by pushing it with his legs so he settles on the ground and pushes the base of the queen bed.

                There are heavy indents in the carpet, and the dust is so thick it’s almost become a felted layer beneath the bed and along the edge of the wall, as well as between the bedside table and bed base. Sure enough though, caught between the headboard support and bed base is a little black box, covered in dust. His phone is just to the other side and he picks it up, sliding it onto the bedside table without even bothering to look at the time.

                It’s a ring box.

                His first thought is that it must be his mom’s. This was her room before Ice and Mav repainted it and bought all knew furniture for him.

                So it can’t be hers.

                This was his room.

                He opens it and yeah, that’s a ring meant for a man’s finger.

                What the fuck.

…            …            …

~5 YEARS EARLIER

                He knows Jake doesn’t feel the same for him.

                Doesn’t have the same dreams of a future together.

                Is just enjoying being young and dumb and thinks that Bradley is a happy and willing partner.

                He is happy and willing.

                He just wants more.

                He stares at himself in the bathroom mirror, building up the courage to do what needs to be done.

                To stop things, break things off, before he gets in any deeper.

                He suspects it’s too late, that he’s going to break his own heart.

                But rather he break his heart than allowing Jake to do it instead.

                He walks out to the kitchen and Jake turns to him with an easy smile and his heart is already breaking.

                “I don’t think we should do this anymore…”

                The smile slips from Jake’s lips, eyes which had he glinting with warmth are immediately shuttered and he’s straightening up.

                “Oh. Right then. Message received.”

                He leaves and Bradley hates it, but he can’t say anything else.

                He finishes off the bottle of bourbon and passes out, stumbling and drunk, wondering if it would have felt different if he’d waited and let Jake be the one to break his heart.

…            …            …

                He jerks back to the present and stares at the ring, pulls it out with trembling fingers and runs a fingertip over the cold smooth surface, gold glinting in the light from the bedside lamp. It’s wide, wider than he’d pick for himself, but he didn’t pick this for himself. The idea that Jake picked this out for him is impossible he refuses to consider it. He would have said something, surely, if he’s been…

                Been what?

                Been about to propose?

                He realizes he’s not been breathing, a little in shock and he sucks in a deep startling gasping breath as he just sits there and stares, turning the ring over and over between his fingers when he catches sight of the inscription inside. He has to pull it close, angle it just right to see it but he didn’t know his heart could break again.

                There’s an infinity symbol, then there are three more symbols etched in fine detail along the line and he angles it to catch more light so he can see it better. There’s a little paper plane and he smiles, remembers the paper planes Jake used to aim at his head to annoy him whenever he thought Bradley was taking himself too seriously.

                Then there is a little heart and the word you and his heart stutters and skips.

                No.

                Jake didn’t get this for him.

                He can’t have.

                It hasn’t been sitting here for five years.

                Gathering dust.

                He can hear a weird sound, a high-pitched whine and realizes it’s himself, making a pained noise and then he can feel tears slipping down his cheeks.

                He’d obviously been wrong.

                So wrong.

                Too late now.

                Still.

                He slips the ring onto the chain containing his dog tags.

…            …            …

                “Hangman… you look good.”

                He does look good, although he has sharpness to his eyes and a meaner twist to his lips than he remembers.

                He wonders how much he is to blame.

                “I am good Rooster. In fact I’m too good to be true…”

                The rest of the night does not go so well and Bradley tries to remind himself that he’s the one that broke it off with him, that if Jake is still feeling hurt after all this time then that’s his right.

                Bradley stops.

                If he’s still hurt, then there are still feelings to be hurt.

                Oh.

                It’s been six years now, and he wears the warm weight of the ring around his neck, a daily reminder of what he let slip through his fingers because he was too scared to ask.

                He’s not going to be too scared to ask a second time.

                He just has to wait for the right moment.

               And figure out what it is he wants to ask exactly.

…            …            …

                Of course the right moment doesn’t present itself, and instead they end up fighting.

                Again.

                Jake always knew how to push his buttons in the best and worst ways and clearly still does.

                Something has spooked Jake though, Bradley had seen it, and he doesn’t know what it was.

                “Bradshaw!”

                He turns, sees Jake striding toward him, mouth in a tight line.

                Unhappy and angry.

                Not a great combination.

                Then he’s standing in front of him and for a brief second he thinks Jake is going to punch him; instead he’s pulling out Bradley’s chain, fist going tight around the tags and… fuck.

                The ring.

                “Why are you wearing that? Now? After all this time?”

                “I only found it about a year ago.”

                “What?”

                “I found it a year ago,” Bradley repeats, swallowing roughly, because this is it.

                This is the moment.

                “A year ago?” Jake repeats, and he looks confused, which makes Bradley confused.

                Jake isn’t surprised he has the ring, more that he only found it a year ago…

                “Yeah. I’ve not exactly spent a lot of time at home. Actively avoided it some might say.”

                “Okay. But. Why are you wearing it?”

                “Reminder to not let go of the things that matter to me the most.”

                “You broke up with me Bradshaw,” Jake spits, and he’s close, fist still around Bradley’s tags, body taut with anger.

                “Yeah. I… I didn’t. I thought you were just… not that into me.”

                Jake is looking more confused, frowning at him.

                “You thought I wasn’t into you.”

                “Yeah. I was…” am he amends silently. “Very much into you.”

                “Wait… so. You didn’t break up with me because you didn’t want to get married?”

                Bradley closes his eyes and swallows against the threatening tears, shaking his head to answer because he can’t make words happen right now.

                “Jesus fucking Christ. We’re… we’ve… okay,” Jake says, and his hand is letting go, fingers spreading to pat comfortingly at Bradley’s chest, but he’s moving away and he doesn’t want that. Sways toward him, following him like Jake is true north and will always lead him home. “So. You really didn’t see the ring and then immediately break up with me…”

                “What?” Bradley asks, because he hadn’t thought about when Jake bought the ring, just figured that was where he’d hidden it. Not that it had been out somewhere for Bradley to see or find.

                “Yeah. Left it on your bedside table. Figured you’d either ask me what the hell I was thinking, or I could ask you when we went to bed…”

                His throat is tight and he doesn’t bother trying to stop the tears that want to spill over.

                “I’m sorry…”

                “Jesus Bradley. So am I… should have known I wasn’t wrong.”

                He lets out a hiccupping laugh at that, because if Jake had said anything back then their lives would likely be very different. However Jake has been living under the impression Bradley had rejected his wordless marriage proposal. No wonder he’s always been a bigger asshole to Bradley than anyone else. He'd always just put it down to being his ex-hookup. 

                “I’m sorry about being an asshole last week. At the Hard Deck.”

                “Mmm. Because I was such a peach.”

                Bradley snorts wetly, feels Jake’s hands settle on his hips, far more gentle and softer than he remembers; realizes that Jake is maybe unsure the touch will be welcomed. He presses his own hands over Jake’s, applies firm pressure and then runs his hands up Jake’s arms, loops his hands behind Jake’s head and lets his thumb stroke at the fine short hairs there. His stomach is in knots, suddenly nervous despite the certainty he knows logically applies.

                Logic can go fuck itself, it has no place in his stormy emotions right now.

                “I love you,” he says, his voice just above a whisper on an exhale.

                “Mmm. Good. Cause I love you too.”

                “You love me? Still?”

                “Of course. Never stopped. Made me spitting mad some days. I don’t go and buy rings for just anyone Bradshaw…”

                No, he supposes he doesn’t. Isn’t going to ask about what has maybe happened in the last six years. They don’t matter other than to remind him to hold onto Jake with both hands.

                “Now, I need you to listen to me very closely, because I have a very important question to ask.”

                “I’m listening.”

                “Good. Now… will you go on a date with me?”

                Bradley grins, can feel the heat flooding his cheeks and he can’t believe he feels so bashful when it’s Jake.

                “I’d love to. Uh. Do you want this back?” Bradley asks, slipping his pinky finger into the ring, meeting Jake’s gaze when he looks up from studying it.

                “Hmm. Not yet. I’ll let you know when you need to wear it somewhere else. Deal?”

                “Yeah. Deal.”