#crumbs for the winter break

[twst-trash]

❥• 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧-𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐝

Tumblr ate my last upload for some reason, so if you see this one please like/reblog it again 😩

Summary: Leona invites you to a royal gala in the Sunset Savanna and you learn that he likes you more than he tries to let on.

wc: 5.2k (!)

content warnings: Jealous!Leona x fem!reader, 18+ smut. Jealousy, breeding kink, scenting, Pining™️. Featuring a cliché love rival and my own take on Queen Kingscholar. Just a little something I wrote to pull me out of the funk I’ve been in lately.

“Tch, I hate this kind of shit.�� Leona mumbles as he fiddles with his cufflinks in the mirror. His hair is tied into an unkempt ponytail, stray mahogany locks cascading over his face haphazardly. He looks so different standing there in formal attire- you’re so used to seeing him in his barely buttoned NRC uniform and god-awful sandals- but his demeanor remains unchanged. A small smile pulls at the corner of your mouth as you watch him jam an ungracious finger between his canine and incisor, double checking for any hidden crumbs leftover after brushing his teeth this morning.

Behold, you think, the ever elegant Second Prince: Leona Kingscholar.

(Truthfully, you were more than surprised when Leona showed up to the Ramshackle Dorm before winter break and propositioned the trip back to his homeland.

“I gotta take someone with me to this stupid gala.” He had said to you, hunched in the low arch of the doorframe. His body was comically compressed, folding in on himself as he tried to bully his way into the dorm. “My brother won’t shut his trap about needing me to bring a partner. Said he’d just pick someone at the palace to be my chaperone if I couldn’t get anyone.”

You looked the beastman up and down, an eyebrow quirking inquisitively. “So you want me to waste my winter break babysitting you?”

A subtle flash of hurt crossed his features for just a moment before an almost imperceptible rumble started in the back of Leona’s throat. “You know what? Forget about it- I shoulda known you’d be a brat about this.” He all but growled, contorting his body once more as he motioned to close the door.

“Wait.” You sighed and grasped the doorknob before Leona could pull it shut. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t go.”)

And thus you had been thrust into the mirror portal to the Sunset Savanna, woefully unqualified for a fancy royal party.

Leona’s tux, an amber-gold suit that fit sophisticatedly against his body and nipped in at his well-defined waist, only serves to remind you of how underdressed and unprepared you are for the occasion. No matter how juxtaposed by his behavior, Leona looks like royalty- and you, markedly, do not. It was one of your main arguments against coming: the fact that your wardrobe lacked anything acceptable for the foreign diplomats that were apparently visiting the palace. Hell, even your NRC uniform was an old moth-eaten hand-me-down nearly unacceptable to attend school in, but Leona had insisted that he’d find you a dress some way or another.

“Amali probably has somethin’ you can wear.” He had mentioned to you before, sizing you up in a way that made you feel small. “She’s always collecting dresses to sew and repurpose, she’s gotta have something in your size.”

Even if his sister-in-law could perform the miracle of making you look the part, you were still miles away from acting the part. Of course, if Leona were your only benchmark for royal behavior, you’d have already mastered the art. Unfortunately, you have also met Amali Kingscholar, who is effortlessly elegant and poised in all the ways that you are not.

– but even cotillion classes and dresses lined with ridiculously expensive tulle could not prepare you for the most jarring part of coming to the Sunset Savanna. No, the most jarring part of coming to the Sunset Savanna is learning that Leona is the most eligible bachelor in the kingdom. It makes sense when you stop to think about it; he’s the second prince, a (supposedly) soon-to-be graduate of Night Raven College, and, you can begrudgingly admit, devastatingly attractive. From the moment you arrived in the Sunset Savanna, Leona had been bombarded by attractive Lionesses, sticking sweetly to his side and glaring daggers at you for even stepping foot into the kingdom. Their stories were all slightly different (“Remember me, Leona? We used to play together as cubs!”, “I’m the baker’s daughter- you used to love to come in and try our mince pies.”, “Cheka and my niece go to the same preschool!”) but served the same purpose: to endear themselves to the boy you had been not-so-secretly pining over since you had accidentally stepped on his tail in the botanical gardens.

You struggle to define your relationship with Leona, still unsure if you can call yourselves friends. You certainly didn’t consider him to be a friend in the same way you saw Ace and Deuce, though he seemed to be around just as often. It wasn’t entirely your fault for being unsure; Leona purposely made himself hard to read. He’d accuse you of never leaving him alone but invite himself over to the Ramshackle Dorm for a nap on your couch in the same breath. The lion had finessed himself as an immovable fixture in your life, yet you held each other at an arm's length, too afraid of something to get to know each other better (much to the chagrin of Ace, who emphatically exclaims that the two of you need to ‘bone each other and get over it already’ at any chance that presents itself).

Despite the bickering and posturing and fights that Ruggie regularly needs to mediate, Leona is still always there, for better or for worse. He’s still the one who gives you too much money when he sends you to fetch him lunch (‘and get yourself somethin’ to eat if there’s some leftover, I guess’) and the one who’s always suspiciously present to bail you out whenever you find yourself running into trouble. Maybe that should be enough for you- knowing that he cares in his own way. Maybe it shouldn’t feel so awful to see other people flirt with him and, even worse, see him flirt back. Still, as the castle workers flit in and out of Leona’s spacious bedroom, commenting on his attire and using every stray thread or crooked tie as an excuse to allow their hands to linger, you can’t help the sharp sting of jealousy that shoots through your viscera.

It’s far too easy to forget that Leona is a prince with the way he acts, but the longer you spend in the palace, the more it becomes the only thing you can think about.

“I hate this shit.” Leona repeats again, scowling at his reflection in a way that almost confirms your suspicion that his ever-sour expression is practiced. He throws the jacket off of his shoulders and onto the floor with little regard, watching as the fabric crumples in on itself. You’re sure that the maids, who had flattened out every solitary wrinkle several times over, wouldn’t mind having more work to do if that meant being able to run their hands along Leona’s broad chest once more.

“Mhm,” You hum affirmatively. “You’re making it hard to forget that you do.”

“Shut it, herbivore.” Leona rolls his eyes. He undoes the first few buttons of his undershirt and folds the sleeves above his forearms in an attempt to get more comfortable while he still could. “Aren’t you supposed to meet Amali to get fitted, anyway? Gala’s in about an hour.”

“Just wanted to make sure you were actually getting ready- isn’t that part of my job as chaperone?” You say, waggling your eyebrows at him. Leona shoves you and you fall onto his bed dramatically, a breathy laugh expelling itself from your chest on impact. “Is that any way to treat a guest? Not very princely of you.”

“Dramatic brat.” He grouses, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you. You can’t help the way your eyes trail up his forearm, admiring the shape of his muscles. “Think you oughta remember you’re in my palace. I could throw you out of the guest bedroom and let you succumb to the elements tonight.”

You prop yourself up on your elbow, unable to stop the smug grin that’s plastered onto your face. “You’d never.”

“Wanna bet?”

He bows his head, bringing his face closer to yours. You take a sharp breath despite your attempts to remain calm. If Leona got any closer, you’re sure your erratic heartbeat would give you away, too. It’s the closest you’ve been to him since having to share a bed during Azul’s contract and the first time you’ve really looked into his eyes. The emerald pools of color were usually masked in a layer of apathy or annoyance, but those features were noticeably absent from his expression as he stared back at you, pupils dilated and lips parted ever-so-slightly. His gaze travels down to your own lips and you feel your face heat from his scrutiny. All of a sudden, you’re self-conscious. Are your lips chapped? How is your breath?

You’d be lying if you tried to convince yourself that Leona wasn’t always so pretty, especially now as he peers down at you, eyes half-lidded and trained on your unmoving lips.

“You think I wouldn’t?” He mutters, close enough to feel his breath on your cheek. His tone is deathly serious. You’re not sure he’s still talking about throwing you out, not when his lips hover right above yours

- and then there’s a knock.

“My liege?” A small voice calls from outside Leona’s door. The sound is enough for Leona to pull back, creating a considerable amount of distance between the both of you in mere seconds. The cloud of static uncertainty is all at once lifted. “Queen Amali is looking for your guest.”

“She’s here.” Leona barks back as he stands from his place on the bed, a twinge of irritation dripping off every syllable. “Take her, we ain’t doin’ anything important.”

The female servant slowly opens the door, oblivious to the palpable tension present mere moments ago. Despite coming to fetch you, her gaze is fixed on Leona. She looks at the fabric on the ground with a frown and moves into the room to pick it up.

“You shouldn’t have taken off your jacket, sir. The guests should be arriving soon.” She sighs, opening the jacket for Leona to pull his arms through. The way she stares at him is not lost on you, and neither is the way that her hands linger on his chest for too long after adjusting his lapels. And he’s not stopping her. The way he could be so close to you in one moment and have another woman feel him up in the next makes your head spin.

“Ahem.”

The servant’s head turns to you, embarrassed, as if she had just taken stock of the fact you were there. “Right! So sorry, miss. Please follow me to Queen Amali’s chambers.”

You make sure to flip Leona off as you leave the room.

-----

The dress very nearly fits you without any alterations. The amber-gold dress matched Leona’s suit perfectly and was sleek against your body, dipping low to reveal the valley between your breasts. The slit that starts high up your thigh makes you question whether or not it was appropriate for the gala, but Amali was more than happy to pass the dress along to you.

“If it weren’t for the foreign diplomats coming, you probably would’ve been dressed in traditional Sunset Savanna attire.” Amali explained as she contemplated aloud about taking in the waist to have the fabric rest taut around your midsection. “But I’m glad it’s not- I’d love to have that custom made for you the next time you visit.”

The diplomats are already lining up in front of the palace by the time you see Leona again. Amali had insisted that you take your time with her personal makeup collection before the gala began. Being an all-boys school, NRC was unfortunately lacking in the makeup department, so aside from the times that Vil decided to experiment on you, you weren’t used to wearing makeup anymore. Still, slightly unblended eyeshadow aside, you thought you had done a decent job.

You can see Leona waiting at the bottom of the staircase, still fiddling with his cufflinks before the sound of your heels against the marble draws his attention. His eyes wash over your body, unashamedly staring at the way the fabric swishes in time with your steps as you head down the stairs from Amali’s personal sewing room.

“Well look at that,” He starts, still looking you up and down. “The herbivore cleans up well.”

He holds out his hand in an unexpected show of chivalry, and you happily take it. Leona holds you close as you enter the ballroom, amazed by the grandeur of it all. Only a few people besides the Kingscholar family and yourself were present in the room, including a small orchestral band that was in the final stages of setting up for the event. Tables were stationed near the back of the room, donned in expensive-looking gold tablecloths. You could see waiters chatting with each other as they set up their trays by the tables. You feel out of place as an attendee- in your mind, it would make more sense if you were working the party, serving food and drinks along with the busy team of servers.

Leona’s arm around your waist reassures you that, at least for tonight, you belong out here, with him, as an honored guest to the Kingscholar family.

It seems like the ballroom swells with people in the blink of an eye, the previously idling band already playing some smooth, sophisticated tune as the servers begin to mingle into the crowd, carrying glasses of champagne and bite-sized hors d'oeuvres.

“I have some things to take care of,” Leona leans down to whisper into your ear, squeezing the side of your hip reassuringly before pulling away. “I’ll be back, okay?”

You watch as he crosses the ballroom, side still tingling from the ghost of his touch. It’s hard to know what to do by yourself here. You’re unsure if it’s appropriate to socialize, gazing around the room to see if Farena or Amali were available enough to at least let you hover by them. Unfortunately, the King and the Queen are just as busy as Leona, talking to several important-looking people while Cheka runs about with some other royals around his age.

As for the business Leona needed to take care of… Your stomach churns at the sight of more women (and men) making flirty faces at him, touching him in a way that’s too familiar. You can’t help but wonder if he knows them. If he’s grown up with them, if they knew him more intimately than you ever would. A small part of you can dismiss the threat of the palace workers- they’d probably have no real chance of being with Leona- but the foreign royalty and big names in the Sunset Savanna sure do. Probably even more than you.

You grumble a small ‘thank you’ to the server whose tray you snatch a champagne flute from. You drink it far too fast to appear cordial, setting the empty flute back onto the tray before grabbing another one. Tonight was going to be a long, excruciating night.

— - -

It had been nearly an hour without Leona at your side. You sit at one of the tables near the corner, sulking, feeling like you’ve been stood up on a date. The champagne servers were now avoiding you, trying to wean you off from the golden liquid, so you had resorted to hoarding a small plate of hors d'oeuvres to yourself. Drowning your sorrows in beef tartare wasn’t the way you thought you’d be spending winter break. You’d long lost track of Leona in the bustle of the ballroom. If it weren’t for appearances, you would have already made your way back to the guest bedroom.

You feel a tap on your shoulder, instantly perking up.

“Fuck Leona, took you long enough-“ You begin, but as you turn around, the man behind you is most certainly not Leona.

The man looks down at you, raising an amused eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’ve been waiting for that lazy oaf this whole time.”

Normally you’d take offense to the insult on Leona’s character, but your anger at him abandoning you and the buzz of champagne wins out in the moment. Still, you cross your arms, apprehensive of the stranger in front of you. “I’m not waiting for anyone.”

“I’ve been watching you for a little while now,” the man admits, taking a seat next to you. His ochre eyes survey the empty champagne glasses and pile of hors d'oeuvres in front of you and chuckles to himself. “I can tell a heartbreak when I see it.”

You scoff, pulling the plate closer to you defensively. “I’m not heartbroken.”

“Mind telling me who you are, then?”

The beastman in front of you isn’t unattractive- quite the opposite, actually. His golden eyes are piercing, looking at you intensely. The shock of red hair that sits atop his head almost reminds you of Farena’s, but shaved along the sides so that the top could be neatly swooped over. His ears and tail have alternating streaks of orange and black pigment running across them, reminding you of a tiger.

“You first.” You challenge. He chuckles at that, standing from the table once more.

“Taiga.” He replies simply, bowing slightly and extending his hand. “Care for a dance while you wait for nothing?”

Normally you wouldn’t bother, but the jealousy you feel from seeing Leona with other women all night is still settled in the bottom of your stomach. Against your better judgment, you take his hand as he guides you to the dance floor, immediately seizing your waist and holding you close. You’re not accustomed to ballroom dancing at all, but you move slowly, letting Taiga take the lead.

His body is warm against yours, overwhelmed with a smell so unlike the beastman you were familiar with. It feels wrong, almost, to be dancing with someone other than Leona, but you weren’t exclusive- if he could dance and flirt and be touched, so could you. You sway together, awkwardly, to the tune of the live band the Kingscholars had hired.

“Taiga.” A voice growls from behind you. You’re startled out of your thoughts as Taiga pulls you closer.

“Ah, so the second prince makes an appearance.” Taiga smiles. “I was starting to wonder if you had abandoned the little one here. I was just looking after them for you.”

You scoff in disgust and try to wriggle out of his grasp, but he holds on strong.

“You have five seconds to get away from them.” Leona says, nearing the end of his patience. You can’t see Leona, still held in place by Taiga’s grip, but you can tell that he’s seething.

“Sorry, your majesty.” Taiga says, his voice dripping ingeniously, “I didn’t realize they were your mate. Your scent is just so weak on them- I guess that’s a problem you second princes have to deal with.”

That does it.

“If I catch you talking to my mate again, I’m reducing your whole country to dust.” Leona snarls, baring his teeth to the shorter male. “Write that down as a threat against your kingdom, I don’t give a fuck. I’ll have an embargo put on your kingdom’s ass from here to the Shaftlands if you so much as breathe in their general direction, just you fuckin’ see.”

Taiga releases you from his hold, throwing his hands up defensively. “You’ve made your point. No need to get testy. I’m sure your brother wouldn’t take kindly to learning you were making threats on his behalf.”

Finally free from under the tiger’s slimy grasp, you move to stand beside Leona. If the memory of his overblot wasn’t so recently etched into his mind, you’re sure the man in front of you would be nothing more than a pile of dust by now.

But Leona restrains himself, gripping your wrist and escorting you out of the ballroom and into the hallway leading to his room.

“You always find a way to get involved with the worst people.” He says under his breath.

What, like you? would be your playful answer, but you’re still angry at him for leaving you alone. “I don’t even know who that is.”

“Taiga Hon.” He practically spits. “First born prince to some-fuckin’-where. Certified asswipe and thorn in our sides. Even Farena doesn’t like him.”

You’re silent as the both of you walk further and further from the ballroom. Despite your lingering rage, you’re still relieved to be away from the room full of strangers and back in Leona’s presence.

“Don’t want you bein’ touched like that by anyone else.” Leona mutters, “‘specially not that princely Tiger fuckhead.”

“You’re one to talk.” You scoff, wriggling your wrist out of his grip. “Constantly flirting with your maids, letting them touch you too closely when they fit your tux, and now we’re at a gala where you’d rather entertain other lions and lionesses than pay attention to your date? You know, the person you kidnapped from their peaceful winter break at NRC?”

“So, I’m your date, hm?” Leona smirks, emerald eyes sparkling with delight as your face flushes.

“You’re insufferable.” Of course that’s the one thing he takes from your tirade. “But I’m your mate, apparently?”

“It’s just beastman talk,” He grumbles, though you can’t miss the uncharacteristic blush that spreads across his face. “Don’t let it get to your head, herbivore.”

“Right.” You hum affirmatively, almost bitterly. “I guess your real mate could be any one of those palace workers or lionesses back in the ballroom.”

Leona pauses, stopping in his tracks at your words. Before you can realize what’s happening, Leona has you up against the wall, wrists pinned above your head as he smashes his mouth into yours.

Your heartbeat is erratic, rattling against your ribcage as Leona presses into you. It feels so good to finally have him so close. His knee spreads your legs, bypassing the slit of your dress and pressing right against your clothed cunt. He swallows your moan, tongue working against your own, before he pulls back.

“It’s always been you, herbivore.” He mumbles against your lips. “You’ve always been mine.”

“I’m yours.” You breathe as he trails his lips along the side of your neck, nipping your collarbone in a way that makes you subconsciously rub against the leg between your thighs.

“And I’m yours.” Leona echos, releasing your wrists from his grasp. He lifts you with ease, placing your legs on either side of him, palms hot against your thighs as he leads you back into the bedroom. You wrap your arms around his neck, comforted by his familiar smell.

He pushes his bedroom door open and immediately lays you down on the bed. He discards his tuxedo jacket, carelessly tossing it aside, and quickly works to unbuckle his belt. Finally free of its constraints, you marvel at his erect cock, clenching your legs together at the sight.

“Had to stop myself from pushing your panties aside and fucking you right in that hallway.” Leona whispers hotly in your ear as he presses into you once more. He undoes the zipper along the side of your dress before peeling the shiny fabric off of you and tossing it to join his pile of clothes on the floor. “You really did look amazing in that dress.”

You gasp as he palms the outside of your panties, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth at your reaction.

“Already so wet for me.” He chuckles, trailing a finger up and down your clothed slit.

“Stop teasing.” You hiss impatiently, hips rolling into his touch.

“Patience, herbivore.”

He presses a kiss to your clothed pussy, nose bumping against your clit. He shoves the thin fabric aside and flattens his tongue against your entrance, lapping at your wetness. Your breath stutters out, gripping mahogany locks to try and ground yourself as Leona takes you with his mouth. His tongue expertly swirls around your clit, suckling lightly as he inserts his fingers deep inside your pussy.

His fingers and mouth work in tandem to unravel you; his free hand comes up to knead your clothed breasts, a muffled take it off spoken against your folds. You quickly remove your bra and Leona’s hand wastes no time in seizing your nipple between his forefinger and thumb.

“I’m close, Leona,” You gasp, clutching the back of his head even harder. He doesn’t let up, his hot mouth fully engulfing your clit, sucking and licking as his fingers press against the spongy roof of your pussy. Your body tenses as you hit your peak, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through your body as you cum.

“Mm, good girl.” Leona hums as he pulls away, a satisfied smirk plastered onto his face as he strokes his cock to the sight of you. He spreads your legs wider, folding you in on yourself as he teases the tip of his huge cock between your folds. You moan again, still sensitive from your first orgasm, but eager to accept his cock nonetheless.

“Want this?” He asks, tapping his cock against your clit. You can barely manage to whimper a yes, please before he’s slowly sinking into you. You can hear his own breath hitch as he’s engulfed in the warm, wet walls of your pussy.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” Leona groans, stilling his hips as he bottoms out, waiting for you to grow accustomed to his length.

His head is buried in your neck, biting and nosing you, smearing his scent all over you as if to make a point.

“Move.” You whisper, a tiny command, gripping tight onto his shoulder.

Leona doesn’t have to be told twice, slowly withdrawing his cock before slamming it into you once more. His pace is unrelenting, barreling into you hard and fast, like you’d disappear out from under him if he didn’t.

“Mine.” He grunts before capturing your lips in his. “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” You affirm, breathlessly, fingernails scratching Leona’s back and leaving crescent-shaped indents in his flesh. His hand slips between your thighs, rubbing your clit with his thumb. It’s all too much, and you can feel the height of another orgasm approaching.

“You’re squeezing so tight around my cock,” Leona growls into your ear. “I’m gonna fucking cum inside of you.”

“Yes, fuck yes!” You whimper, your own orgasm threatening to wreck your body.

“Love this fucking pussy,” Leona mewls again. “Wanna fill you up so everyone knows you’re mine- have my seed dripping out of you while you talk to those stuffed shirts out there. Get you round with my cubs so everyone knows that You. Are. Mine.”

The last three words are punctuated by three deep thrusts that send you over the edge, chest heaving as your pussy pulsates around Leona’s cock. White warmth fills you as Leona cums deep inside, fucking you through the last throes of your orgasm.

He rolls over, sticking to your side sweatily and kissing the side of your neck. You turn to face him, arms wrapped around each other. It’s silent as the two of you bask in the afterglow.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous.” Leona suddenly speaks up, one tired eye opening to look at you.

“Is that why you were so flirty?” You groan, fighting the urge to smother him in a pillow.

“Maybe.” He says, closing his eyes once more. If he hadn’t just blown your back out, you’d murder him.

“You’re an ass.”

“They’re all social climbers, anyway.” Leona adds, sleepily. “People around here either hate me or want to use me for their own agendas.”

“In speaking of- should we go back to the party?” You ask, but Leona’s head is buried into your shoulder as he grunts in the negative, unwilling to move from his spot next to you.

And you don’t want to go, either.

-

The next morning at the breakfast table, Cheka is full of energy. It’s much too much for how early it is, and though Leona had insisted that the two of you stay in bed through breakfast, you forced him to go.

“We already slept through the rest of the party last night,” You said exasperatedly, practically dragging the lion out of his own bed. “We have to show up for breakfast.”

“You two must’ve been tired last night.” Amali says slyly, a knowing smile forming on her lips. “Didn’t even stick around for the main courses.”

“Let them have their fun, Amali.” Farena laughs, his voice booming. Like father, like son, you think as you watch Cheka play with the toys he had brought to the breakfast table, two stuffed warthogs he was smashing together with an exaggerated ‘bam!’- boisterous and far too loud. “We were young once.”

She hums, watching your embarrassed expression. “I’m glad you liked the dress last night.”

“Of course, thank you again!” You exclaim, glad for the change in subject, “It was beautiful- I’m surprised you had something in my size.”

Amali laughs, her gaze shifting to Leona. “You didn’t tell her?”

You cock your head, now also looking at Leona. “Tell me what?”

Leona would never tell Queen Amali Kingscholar to shut up; he was raised to respect women, especially his brother’s wife. Instead he grumbles a ‘don’t’ as Amali giggles at his expense.

“He asked me to order it for you.” She says, nudging Leona with her elbow. “He wanted something that’d match his suit, the possessive brat. I was surprised he got your measurements so accurate- someone must’ve been paying attention.”

You can’t help the smile that tugs at your own lips as you watch Leona shift uncomfortably, pretending to be more intrigued by stirring his porridge than the conversation at hand.

“Thank you.” You whisper to him, squeezing his hand. He grumbles something close to a ‘welcome’ underneath his breath, and you know in that moment that he’s been yours this entire time, too.

- - -

As the students of Night Raven College return from their winter vacation, flooding the hall of mirrors en masse with presents they received over the break and embarrassing stories of family hot on their tongues, Ruggie is the first one who notices. Even if his keen senses couldn’t immediately pick up on your intermingling scents, it doesn’t take an apex predator to notice the lovesick glances Leona exchanges with you as the both of you simultaneously enter the hall.

After all the pining, the fights, the tension so thick that Ruggie could sink his teeth into it, he could finally rest and stop playing Cupid’s referee to your will-they-won’t-they schtick. He smiles to himself and thinks of the betting pool posted in his dorm room, dollar signs humming through his veins as he anticipates the happy payday.

“Took you long enough.” The hyena snickers as Leona approaches, coming to greet him as you break off to meet with your friends.

“Yeah.” Leona says with an uncharacteristic softness, his eyes trailing after you as you greet Grim (making sure he hadn’t burnt down Ramshackle in your time away, no doubt), Ace, Deuce and the others -

“It did.”

——

10 points to anyone who can tell which Disney character I based Tiaga off of.

the lion header is by firefly-graphics!

[lokisgoodgirl]

A Clandestine Christmas: Clandestine F*cks [Avenger! Loki x Fem.Reader]

Part of the Clandestine F*cks Collection Part of the Winter Warmers Collection A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Off the back of a stunning festive revelation, Loki shows you a hidden room in Stark Tower. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Language. Patchy historical references. Humour. (w/c 2.9k)

It was mid-December. The communal quarters of Stark Tower were being adorned furiously in winding wreaths of pine, gold ornaments flashing in the afternoon sun through the panoramic windows. You stood back from the tree in the corner, fluffing a branch absent-mindedly. You could hear the low conversation of the Asgardian brothers behind you, enjoying the rare hum of interaction untinged by sarcasm or pointed barbs. “...Stark said the belt he shall be fashioning for my Yuletide gift will be the perfect thing to contain my unrestrained godly manhood. A contingency if you decide once again to withdraw the phallus enchantment at a time which is of life or death importance.” You heard Loki scoff, as Thor continued. “You know... if it is necessary for critical missions. First dates and suchlike.”

Your lover made a sharp intake of breath, a scathing and very un-festive comment sure to follow. "Like a ladies sport brassiere, but for your ridiculous penis?" Loki goaded. You rolled your eyes, fluffing the branch a final time before turning to prevent the exchange escalating further. “-Guys, Morgan’s coming over later, so no talk about Santa being fake or anything alright?” Your intended audience remained silent. The brothers were perched at the breakfast bar; Thor enjoying a well earned break from helping assemble the decor ahead of tonight’s party. Your boyfriend, not so much. They were both dressed snugly in hand knitted jumpers, a gift from Scott's grandmother to the whole team. Thor’s was bright red, two candy-canes woven in a haphazard ‘T’. It was far too small for him, the weave stretching dangerously with every movement of his broad shoulders. It won’t last the night, you thought with a smile. Loki’s was a rich green, a sprig of holly resting on the tip of a white ‘L’ emblazoned garishly on his chest. It fit perfectly, because of course it did. The blonde’s face turned pale, his eyes widening. You noted his sudden panicked gaze shifting towards his brother, flicking through a magazine and munching carrot sticks. He showed no signs of interest. “Santa?” Thor mumbled, brushing invisible crumbs from the counter-top. You mean, Santa...Claus? ‘Sinterklaas’? ‘Der Weihnachtsmann’? ‘Père Noël’? ‘Noel...Baba’?” An awkward silence followed; your eyes narrowing as you regarded them with increasing suspicion. “That nonsense is still circulating this realm? How quaint.” Loki smirked, flipping the magazine closed and folding his arms on the counter. Thor grimaced, closing his eyes. “What do you mean?” you said, tilting your head. Loki's smile broadened, leaning forward on the counter-top, his beautiful eyes glinting. “My brother doesn’t like me talking about it. Top secret Asgardian business, you see.” He winked, tapping his nose.

Thor huffed, encircling a strand of bushy tinsel round his neck. “Well if you insist on being so forceful, Loki…” he said, resting his hands on his meaty hips. “Loki is at fault for this realm’s obsession with this ‘Santa Claus’. There, I said it.” “I invented him.” Loki said proudly, picking up another carrot stick. “You most certainly did not brother, he was invented by father and myself to prevent mass rioting within the realm at your hands.” The dark-god grimaced, rolling his eyes. “So dramatic, brother. It was just a bit of fun.” Thor toyed with the tinsel around his neck while Loki crunched the carrot elegantly poised between his thumb and forefinger. Seconds passed in silence. “So...is no one going to tell me what actually happened?” you said slowly, sliding on the barstool opposite the brothers. Thor opened his mouth, silenced by a sharp ba-ba-ba from his brother. “I think not. You will taint the glorious details of the original story with your bias.” Loki said between gritted teeth, turning back toward you with a renewed spark. “Bias...” Thor scoffed, throwing an end of tinsel over his shoulder like a scarf. Loki cleared his throat. “A while ago, my brother and I were spending some regrettable time on Midgard-” “-Father was tired of your childish antics, Loki. It was a time-out.” “Hush.” Loki sniped, rolling his eyes. "We were marooned in the old countries and I was feeling rather affronted by the whole situation and may have spun some yarns to a few curious children who passed our way in a moment of uncharacteristic bitterness.” “How long ago are we talking?” you said warily, as Loki’s smile grew. “About a fifteen hundred years, give or take.” he said coyly. Thor grimaced at the memory. “Loki told a group of naïve village youngsters that in several weeks hence, during the lowest point of winter; gifts would appear if they left their fathers boots outside their dwelling. A ridiculous notion.” “It was just a bit of fun.” your lover repeated innocently. “There was nothing else to do, and those little shits were asking for it. They made fun of my helmet.” “You intended to thieve the boots of those villagers, brother. Do not deny it.” Thor grunted, throwing you a knowing look. Loki huffed. “Well, regardless...by the time Thor found out, the rumour had spread so that every child within a hundred miles seemed to know about this miraculous benefaction and so action had to be taken... apparently.” “Father was furious, thanks to that brown-nose Heimdall.” Thor grimaced, the memory clearly etched deep. “He summoned us back to Asgard immediately-” “-and I was, naturally, delighted. It meant no more dreary, mirthless winter dearth on this sub-par terra.” Loki busied himself with a loose strand on the sleeve of his jumper, before looking up doe-eyed. “No offence, darling.”

“A lot has changed in a thousand years.” you quipped, seeing another smirk tug at his lips as you said it. “If you say so, my love.” he murmured, sarcasm hanging in the air like the scent of cinnamon as he snapped the rogue thread and made it vanish. Thor leant forward, his voice deepening as if recalling a battle tale. “Father demanded that Loki and I fulfil the oath we made to the children of the old country-” “It was no oath.” Loki snapped, jawline flashing in the glow of the twinkling lights surrounding you all. Thor chuckled incredulously, his eyes widening in disbelief at his brother’s selective memory. “Did you not swear to them by the Nine that it was true?” he said, raising his eyebrows. Loki folded his arms. “Potentially. But it was just a bit of fu-”

Thor waved a hand, silencing his brother’s protestations. “Father insisted that Loki fashion trinkets enough for a nation of children, it was...oh, thousands. You should have seen him, Y/N...tinkering away for ten whole days and nights using all manner of magic to fashion carved animals and rudimentary affectations.” Thor became glassy-eyed, his annoyance turning to nostalgia. Large hands grasped at memories of the presents, twirling the imagined items through his fingers; the twinkling lights from the tree reflecting in his wide, excited eyes. “Little dolls and hoops and boats, oh brother, do you remember the hours you spent in the palace workshops with only candlelight for companionship?” “And you, as I recall.” Loki said, his own indifference softening. “Not that you were much help.” Thor let out a pffft, shaking his head with a smile. “You know very well Father forbade me from assisting.” He swivelled on the barstool, facing you across the breakfast bar once more. “My role was to be more logistical, you see. Loki was to create the gifts, I was to deliver them.” “Deliver them?” you gasped, leaning forward in amazement. “Oh yes, Y/N.” Thor nodded solemnly. “But Father concocted a bit of a ruse. It was during the changing of the guard in terms of religion and all that malarky so we had to be...subtle.” “Clandestine.” Loki corrected seductively in your ear, his unexpected warm breath making you shiver. “Not my brother’s strong suit, darling.” You jumped as his hand slid around your waist, resting of your stomach. You hadn’t even seen him move from across the breakfast bar and circle behind you. His firm chest pressed against your back, feeling yourself melt against the rough wool of his jumper. Your eyes fluttered shut, before Thor cleared his throat. “Yes, well...enough of the old lore was in circulation that we couldn’t stir the metaphorical pot much to my dismay. Father was adamant. So Loki was in charge of disguising me in a more...unrecognisable form than my typical unique brand of perfection.” “Ruddy-cheeked and old and soft in the belly. And a wholly ridiculous beard.” Loki smirked against your cheek, his eyes trailing his brother’s face. “I may have used a certain someone for inspiration, considering his interference.” he purred, making you giggle. Thor huffed, “Like I said, unrecognisable brother.”

Loki kissed your cheek, his sultry tones entirely unnecessary to the situation. “There were too many gifts to manage in one trip through the bifrost, so we saddled a chariot to Sleipnir and one enchanted sack later, our plan was in motion.” Thor cleared his throat again, fiddling with the sleeves of his jumper as Loki’s kisses worked down your neck; a small whimper escaping your lips. “Delivery was rather swift if I do say so myself, minus one or two...setbacks.” the blonde muttered, as Loki erupted in a gruff snort of laughter against your skin. “Setbacks? You mean your clumsy attempt to gain access to ill-gotten snacks on your journeys through the Norwegian tundra?” Thor shrugged, pulling a thread from his chest. “I hear that in future years the people of the realm started leaving said snacks out in anticipation of such a need.” “Yes, brother. To avoid their dwelling being raided through any available opening. I mean really, that year how many chimneys did you find your festively plump arse entrapped in, brother? Seven? Any other fool would have stopped after the first. A ridiculous display.” Thor stood, his finger waggling in Loki’s direction. Your dark lover rested his chin on your shoulder, stooped flush against your back. The feeling of his warmth against you was one you never wanted to lose. A smile pressed against your cheeks as you bit your lip, Thor’s indignation in combination with his ridiculous sweater building a bubbling roll of laughter in your belly. “So...how many years did you do this?” you managed to choke, squeezing Loki’s arms tighter around your midriff. Thor shrugged. “Five or six...dozen, perhaps...and then the parents of this realm sort of, took over gradually. Good thing, too...the way it’s spread.” “Thank the Norns.” Loki huffed, burying his face in your hair. You could feel him sigh against your skin, inhaling your scent theatrically. Thor cleared his throat louder, averting his eyes from the sensual scene unfolding in front of him. “All this talk of snacks has found me rather peckish I’m going to...to…” Loki’s hands wandered, his thumb grazing the curve of your breast through your own initialled Christmas jumper. The world faded as Loki’s mouth found yours with a quiet groan, his tongue slipping between your parted lips. From beyond the haze, you heard the kitchen door swing shut as Thor departed. Alone, at last. “Come here” Loki growled, his eyelids heavy with simmering lust as he pulled you down from the stool. You giggled, casting a glance around the living room sparkling with festive cheer. The warm glow of fairy lights nestled in vibrant pine cast shadows on Loki’s features, the corner of his eyes creased with the same mischief tugging on his lips. God, how you loved him. He led you across the room towards an inconspicuous door you had always assumed was a closet, a small ‘No Entry’ sign placed centrally upon it. A wave of citrus and pine hit you as Loki turned the handle and opened the door, revealing a small but perfectly formed room. Soft lighting flooded the opening, the warm glow reminding you of a fireside. Rolls of festive wrapping paper hung on the walls, exquisite ribbons draping downward from spindles in fluttering splashes of gold, red and green. Neatly packed boxes of bows were stacked on shelves, divided by size and colour; labels and a selection of fountain pens lined perfectly against the wall on a solid mahogany desk.

You gasped, “Is this Pepper’s wrapping room? I thought it was a myth.” “Hidden in plain sight, darling.” Loki winked, pulling you inside and closing the door behind him with a soft click. His hands ran over your hips, manoeuvring your ass back against the solid desk. “Loki, we shouldn’t…” you murmured between his ravenous kisses, the words sounding even less convincing in the air than they did in your head. “Correct.” Loki growled, unzipping the side of your skirt with devastating slowness. “But when has that ever stopped us, my love?” The fabric slid down, pooling around your ankles. Loki’s fingers toyed at the waistband of your thick pantyhose, rolling them below your hips. You sat back on the desk, extending one leg as he slid the 200 denier down your thigh, raising your calf and placing a deep kiss on the bare skin. He did the same on the other side, his piercing gaze never leaving yours in the low light. You could feel a sea of wetness pooling in your panties, the need for him growing with every intentionally teasing touch of his fingertips. You crossed your arms across your chest, tugging the jumper upward. Loki pushed them gently down. “The festive sweaters stay on, love.” he purred with a wink. The god sank to his knees, widening your legs. He hummed, sliding a wide palm up your naked thigh and trailing a finger through your glistening folds. “Darling” he growled, “it’s been over a year, are you truly still this desperate for me?” Before you could answer, two fingers slid inside you; making your head fall back with a groan. “Yes, Loki” you gasped, as he pumped them firmly back and forth, his thumb circling your swollen clit. "Lucky me." he murmured, before his lips fastened to the centre of your desire. He lapped at the trail of sticky arousal smeared against your skin, caressing every crevice. Muffled approval rumbled in his throat as he slowly removed the fingers, his tongue delving deeper into the warm heat he craved. You grasped the sides of the desk, resting back on your elbows as you balanced your feet on his thick thighs. Loki shook his head gently back and forth, nose grazing downward as he pleasured every inch of you with whoreish abandon. Even his eyelashes would be wet. “God...baby, yes..y-es, f-fuck…” you sighed, feeling his fingers tighten around the soft flesh of your spread thighs. He suckled gently, wide strokes of his tongue rolled over your slit. You would never know how he could be so fucking good at this. A hand wound in his hair, pushing him deeper against your needy cunt. He growled, the vibration against your clit making you pulse. In a flash, he rolled you backwards, pushing your calves backward so you were completely exposed.

Flat on the table, you craned forward to watch his tongue work your pussy; every lick accompanied by a dark, delicious moan. His eyes were closed in blissful concentration, strands of long hair trailing against your bare skin. The furrow of his brow betrayed the lust you knew was straining against his trousers out of sight. He was always so fucking hard for you. So fucking hard for me, you thought; whimpering as you watched him work with your mouth open. Panting. Loki sucked your clit gently, sending jolts through your body, legs twitching. “Loki…” you keened, trying to thrust your hips upward. He chuckled against your plump lips, sucking them between his teeth in response. Your lover pulled them back gently, releasing them with a wet slurp. “Come in my mouth, goddess.” he whispered, placing another languishing lick up your centre.

Your head fell back against the desk with a thud, hands gripping the edge beneath you. Hot cum flooded Loki’s tongue, his moans of pleasure matching your own as you juddered like a dying thing beneath lingering suckles. You saw stars, murmurs of his name all you could muster as you felt a glow of seidr radiate from his body. He rose above you, his huge cock standing proudly up against the comically unsexy green sweater. You laughed, covering your mouth as he bent over your body; silencing your mirth with a hungry kiss. “You dare laugh at a god’s attire? How rude…” he purred playfully, running a hand down your thigh as you wrapped your legs around his waist, drawing him closer. You both groaned as he entered you, the veins of his thick manhood rippling across every inch of your channel, fizzing with post-orgasmic bliss. Your hands slid up his cheekbones, the perfect symmetry of his features dazzling as his face twitched with the need to thrust deeper. “Loki?” you murmured, making him pause. He looked down with concern, eyebrows slanting. “...I love you.” you said, as his features softened. “I love you too, my precious one.” he whispered, placing a kiss on your forehead as you thrust your hips upward; sheathing him to the hilt. He moaned loudly, a guttural grunt of your name. “F-fuck, darling…” he gasped, beginning to pump in and out of your soaking core. Every hit of his pelvis was magic, every pulse sending new sparks shooting through your blood. His hips met the backs of your open thighs with wet slaps, hot breath mixing with yours; the two of you panting in rhythm. Loki’s thrusts became sloppy as you tugged the back of his hair, a dark growl thundering in his chest as he buried his face in your cleavage hidden beneath the fuzzy jumper. “Do you want me to f-fill you Y/N?” he asked through staggered breaths. You nodded frantically, the angle of his heavenly cock making your back arch against the wood. “Will you ever tire of having your god’s seed..uhhh, yes...d-dripping down those exquisite t-thighs?” His voice quivered with the effort of forming words, the rhetorical question hanging in the air; buffeted between grunts and whines of feral desire. Loki tumbled over the precipice of orgasm with a deep moan as you squeezed your walls tight around his girth. He bottomed out as you rocked back and forth against his hips, feeling the thick slick of his cum spreading along his length before he collapsed against your chest. The sound of his heavy breaths filled the small space, your heart soaring as he raised his chin to rest above your heart. “You are my everything, darling.” he whispered, placing a kiss on your parted lips before sliding out of your pussy and waving his hand. The familiar feeling of his magic rolled up your lower body as he made both of you presentable once more. “Now remember, you don’t know this place exists – alright?” he winked, helping you down from the desk. You brushed a strand of tinsel from his chest, your fingers lingering on the firmness snug beneath the garish festive sweater. You took the few steps over to the door, opening it a crack and peering out to make sure the coast was clear. “Shit.” you whispered, whipping back to Loki with a wide-eyed stare. The door swung open. “Pepper can never know about this.” Tony said gruffly.

His eyebrows rose sceptically as he stood with his arms folded, resting against the sofa.

You and Loki looked at each other, as a smirk curled the corner of Tony’s mouth. “Honestly, how you guys got away with this shit for as long as you did is beyond me. Maybe you’ve lost your touch.” A burning heat spread over your cheeks, hearing Loki chuckle incredulously beside you. "We were simply..." he began, promptly cut off.

"-I think that particular ship has sailed, folks." Tony sighed, pushing himself away from the sofa. "Sailed and sunk. The SS Sinking Sluts..."

You pursed your lips, as Tony straightened. “Just do me a favour, Laufeyson...make sure you didn’t leave a present of your own in there." he murmured theatrically. "I could handle Steve and the car with the whole racoon business- but Pepper...?” Tony pointed knowingly at your lover before spinning on his heels, walking leisurely towards the door as Loki rolled his eyes. “No Asgardian stuffing on my wife’s ribbons, Laufeyson. Check it once, then check it twice. That’s an order.” he shouted with a casual wave, before disappearing around the corner.

A/N: Thank you @lokischambermaid for concocting the intricacies of Thor's 'magic' belt with me🤣 @lady-rose-moon @gigglingtigger @holymultiplefandomsbatman @muddyorbsblr @xorpsbane @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @loopsisloops @thedistractedagglomeration @loveroflokiforpoeticjustice @123forgottherest @joyful-enchantress @sititran @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @mrsbarnes32557038 @michelleleewise @vbecker10 @imalovernotahater @thomase1 @morriggannlostinfandoms @ladylovesloki @marygoddessofmischief @ravenwings73 @filthyhiddles @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @ozymdias @peaches1958 @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokisgirll @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @peachyymallows @soldeloki @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @trojanaurora @ladyofthestayingpower

[rowniebow]

Tasm!pete loosing m!reader after Gwen but reader comes back cause marvel shenanigans 😍 and sees Peter beyond broken and tries to comfort him ?

the last time | tasm!peter parker x male!reader

pairings: tasm!peter parker x male!reader

cw: death, wa-oh, is it considered angst? a lil bit o cursin, no way home mentions

word count: 3.3k+

an: no way home had such nice closure for tasm!peter, so happy bout it. thank you so much for requesting! hopefully ill be getting through the other few i have before winter break is over n i gotta go back to work + college. stay safe, happy new year if i don't have anything else till then!

masterlist

⭒

"damn it," you huffed, holding peter's heavy, limp body close. you leaned against the turned over car, taking a moment to find your thoughts.

you squeezed your boyfriend in your arms, hoping he could feel your silent prayers that he would wake up and save the day like he always does.

but as the stomping got closer and his breathing stayed shallow and struggled, you came to the conclusion that he was not going to be able to help you this time.

you, as quietly as you could, grunted while moving peter on to your back. your sore muscles ached. your ripped skin pulled. your bleeding wounds burned.

peter's limp body draped over your back easily. your legs took you to behind another set of turned over cars. to your relief, the villain didn't see you two moving at all. maybe he was too consumed with trying to take down the manhatten bridge that you were desperate to get off of.

you set your sights on your next set of rubble that you'd go for coverage to. your legs seemed to drain of adrenaline with every step you took. your feet felt as if bricks were piling on them, and the dragging began.

within so few feet of the large rubble pile, filled with car parts and pieces of the bridge the large villain was tearing from the bridge, your foot caught on something, sending your heavy bodies toppling over. your elbows and knees seemed to hit every booming metal possible, and echoes of clatter rang out over the bridge.

the monster drew it's attention to your fleeting body and began making it's way towards you.

you unknowingly prayed it didn't see you as you pulled peter into your arms and crouched into the rubble. your breathing was heavy, and you were sure this villain could hear that whether he saw you or not.

your prayers failed to be answered, yet again.

the monster took his ginormous hand and swiped the large rubble pile away as if it were crumbs on a table.

you looked up at him - he was some sort of animal mutation. an ape the size of a whale with claws similar to a cat and skin similar to a lizard. he had as many eyes as a spider (which made your skin crawl) and the teeth of a shark.

you don't know what peter had gotten himself into with this guy, all you knew is how determined this monstrosity was to reveal spider-man's identity.

the creature's odd hand's came down quickly, smacking you two a great distance away. you kept a tight hold on peter, your hands moving to protect his head and neck while you two were in the air.

so very lucky for you, though, that you got to land on your back onto the hard gravel and peter's body came flopping on top of you, his head on your chest.

you gasped for breath, the air in your lungs seeming to have lost it's way. you back burned from the many small glass shards finding their own way into your skin.

your arms went limp from exhaustion, only your hands being able to grip on to peter's arms to keep you in touch with reality.

you felt the large creature's booming steps make their way towards you, and you did your best to try and sit up with peter. but of course, your exhaustion proved to be stronger than you, and his steps quicker.

you only mustered a pleading look, but of course the immoral being paid no mind to you, only snatching peter's limp body up.

a toothy grin (if you could even call it that) pulled at the creatures face. the pleasure it got as it tried to slip it's claw under peter's mask practically made the monster shake.

you took the rare leisurely speed of the creature as an opportunity, grabbing a nearby pipe, and using the last bit of your strength to throw it at the creature.

the pipe landed painfully in one of the many eye's of the creatures. the creature winced as if it were a mere eyelash that got in it's eye. all of the eyes looked directly at you. the glare it gave you nearly made you throw up, but you choked it back.

the creature tossed peter's body, the impact causing him to slowly gain consciousness again.

he slowly blinked his eyes open, the sheer of the mask over his eyes brought him back to the reality of the situation.

his head throbbed, the pain filtered into his eyes. the daylight was too much for him. he felt every part of him to an intense degree. each and every nerve was more than aware of the state of his body.

but through the sheer of his mask and through the pain of his body, he heard your arguments in the distance with the creature that, he only now is coming to remember, is supposed to be dead by now.

you were wrapped in the creature's odd, almost snake-like fingers. you desperately, weakly struggled as he tightened his grip.

you cough and groaned feeling your ribs break one by one under his pressure.

peter couldn't make out exactly what you two were saying to each other. the ringing in his ears too loud to hear anything, really.

but he saw mouths moving, and by the frown on the creatures face, he could only assume your sassy mouth got the best of you.

but the creature wouldn't have any of it. he raised his free hand, pointer finger out.

peter got to his knees, the world seemed to move in slow motion as he realized what was happening.

he yelled out a protest, pushing himself to his feet, the adrenaline suddenly fueling him like a truck.

but his yell meant nothing.

the claw went right through your torso.

the creature smiled, withdrew his hand and merely tossed you aside.

rage filled peter's bones. he was blind. he felt as if he passed out, only coming back to reality when he was standing over the creatures now deceased body.

peter stumbled to you desperately, the adrenaline carrying him farther than he should be able to go.

"peter-," you coughed out, struggling to sit up in an attempt to greet him.

"no, no, no," peter kneeled beside you, a hand under your back and the other hovering over your body, unsure of what to do. "save your breath, baby, we're gonna get you to a hospital, okay?"

peter tried to slip a hand under your legs to pick you up. your quiet groans and breathy 'ow's' stopped him, however, and he set you back down on the ground, not wanting to put you in any further pain.

"honey, please-," peter began to scan down your body. he wanted to find the wound, stop it from hurting you. he'd do anything.

"no, peter," you grabbed his face and redirected his sights back to you. "don't look at that, look at me." you smiled. your tired eyes were glazed over.

your fingers that hardly seemed to work made their way under his mask and pulled it over peter's head. the mask came off and revealed peter biting his lip, eyes full of tears.

"it's okay, sweetie,"

"no! it's not okay! don't- you can't leave me-,"

"i'm not leaving you, sweetheart,"

"you are, you are. i can't-i can't be without you,"

your hands kept on his cheeks and the smile on your face never left. you didn't want him to see you in pain. you didn't want him to remember you upset - because you aren't.

peter's tears soaked your fingers.

"i would never leave you, sweetheart, i'm-i'm not leaving."

peter broke away from your hands to look down and search for the culprit.

"hey," you quiet, breathy voice and weak fingers drew him back to your eyes. "stop, stop. just- me, look at me,"

"i-i love you,"

"i love you, too, peter," your droopy lids threatened to close but you refused. "you're doing great things, okay? you're-you're going to keep doing great things, okay?"

"okay," he stuttered through cries.

"p-promise me,"

"i promise,"

"you have to promise me, peter,"

"i do, i do, i promise,"

you nodded, leaning back on to the rubble, peter's hand still resting on your back. your eyes slowly searched for peter's hand, reaching and intertwining your weak fingers with him.

tears fell faster as he grabbed your hand firmly, not too tight in case you'd break.

"i'm not leaving you, okay, peter?"

"okay,"

"i'm-i'm not,"

"okay," his words of assurance were a stark contrast to his stuttering, sobbing, sadness.

"i l-love you,"

"i love you too, i love you so much,"

"keep doing good,"

"i promise, i will,"

the smile never faded, but peter watched as your glow did.

he watched as the light in your eyes left with your final blink. as the strength in your hand weakened. as the stiffness in your back collapsed onto his hand.

he pulled your limp body into a one-sided hug. your arms failed to wrap around his neck like they always used to. the crinkles in your eyes were soft and smooth. he seemed to be hyper aware of your breathless nose in the crook of his neck.

and he cried. he sobbed and screamed and pleaded for you to come back. that he didn't want to be without you, not again. he was miserable before you came in to his life and picked him off of the ground and rose him higher.

and peter was left alone on the manhatten bridge.

left alone with his anger and sadness once again.

⭒⭒

"okay, i have coffee, hot chocolate for ned's lola, and a little bit of whiskey for the man who's best friend just died," you muttered closing the door to ned's house carefully, hands full of the grocery bags full of candy and alcohol and stated drinks.

turning around, your sad eyes found the ones of the men standing around with the two children you were responsible for the safety of while peter and your, now deceased, best friend handled the criminals from the other dimension.

"oh, i would have got more coffee if i knew we were having guests," your shocked eyes scanned the unfamiliar men. "and, more alcohol," you looked the man in the spider-man costume up and down.

you smiled in spite of the awkward silence of all five people staring at you.

"oh, here, ned's lola," you grinned brightly handing the hot chocolate to the older woman.

"i'm going to bed!" she walked away, hot chocolate in hand.

"what's wrong with her?" you quirked an eyebrow over to ned.

the man in the spider-man costume muttered your name, and you finally met his teary eyes.

"hi, have we met?" you smiled softly, setting the full drink holder down on the table.

"they're peter parker's from other dimensions and i'm a wizard now! i can make portals with my bare hands!" ned burst out, his hands flying everywhere, while mj grabbed at a coffee, downing it without thought.

"i need a second," the 'peter' in the spider-man suit went for the door you had just come out of.

"oh, no, no, no, no! you are going to sit here with us-," mj began, shakily pointing between him and a chair.

"i just need a second!" he repeated louder, cutting mj off.

everyone stood watching as he left, slamming the door a bit, only to open it, let out a small apology to ned's lola, and close it again, gently.

"can you- i cannot- what the hell," mj muttered panicked under her breath.

your eyes lingered on the closed door. you grabbed your coffee as mj continued with her sputtering.

"hi," the nicely dressed man smile. "i'm peter, and he is peter, too."

"okay! sure," you smiled back, confusion written over your features with all that's happened. "peter's are here, too, now?" you looked to ned and mj.

ned, still in awe, nodded hurriedly. mj threw her hands up, lips forming into a thin line.

"okay, is he-," you gestured to the door. "is he okay?"

mj shrugged, obviously tired and confused, and most of all, worried. worried for peter, who you three had no idea of the location of.

"okay, don't worry about it, hon," you smiled and made your way towards the door. "nice to, uhm, meet you, mr.-," you stuttered over your words.

you still don't really understand all the multiverse stuff all too much, despite peter's explanation. you understood very well that you weren't the smartest when it came to the three brilliant science loving children, but when peter was explaining the whole situation to you, you'd never felt more similar to a wall.

"mr. parker?"

"yes," he nodded, and began speaking more directly to ned and mj about where your peter was and how he'd been looking for him.

you took the opportunity to sneak out of the door.

⭒⭒⭒

'peter' sat on the step to the house. his mind was full of you.

why were you here?

i mean, obviously it's not you, it's just you.

but you're so similar - why are you so similar?

why did you smile at him like that? like he was safe? you don't know him, peter shouldn't be safe to you. but, when he thought about it, you never treated anyone as if they weren't safe. that was something he loved about you.

you would have liked the shirt you are wearing, he would have bought you it as a gift if he saw it in a passing window.

his thoughts ran with all these insignificant thoughts about the two you's.

he wondered if your favorite color was the same, or if you had pets in this universe. or why you looked so damn similar.

he missed you, peter wasn't going to argue against that to anyone. it'd only been a couple of years. it's too soon to see you. fuck, it'd probably always be too soon.

"hey," he heard your voice. the tears that threatened his eyes finally blinked their way out of him. too soon, too soon, too soon, too soon. "are you okay?"

he found it insane how, even still with a different you, your voice is able to cut through any negative thoughts he was having. how you could quiet his mind and fill it with the most pleasant music.

of course you'd come out and check up on him. of course you're just as kind as you were. you are you, after all. no universe could lack your infinite warmth.

"i'm-i'm good, yeah,"

peter's voice cracked. he wanted to laugh at his bad acting.

you were silent for a bit.

peter stifled his sniffs and wiped at his cold, runny nose.

"you don't seem very 'good'." you repeated, hesitantly sitting next to him, a comfortable distance between you two. you silently handed him your coffee, which he slowly took hold of, keeping it close and muttering a thanks.

"i-i, um," peter went over his options and words.

he wanted to share with you. it's you: the person he told and shared every single thought with just two years ago, why wouldn't he want to share his thoughts with you? even if it's about how you died.

"there was a you in my universe,"

he noticed your eyebrows raise in interest. he noticed the sparkle in your eyes. "really?"

you always thought science was cool. you loved the idea of multiple universes, always coming up with different theories of how you'd be in different ones.

god, how he wished he could report back to you about this you.

he finally looked over to meet your eyes. you observed the redness and how glassy his eyes were.

"yeah, yeah, he-," peter choked on his words, not necessarily ready to share his darkest moments. even if it is with you. "tell me about yourself?"

"what?"

"what is your life like?"

you were taken aback by his statement. the only thing running through his mind was how you reacted the same when he asked you about your life in an effort to get to know you at the very beginning.

"oh-, i don't know how to summarize a life,"

peter felt his lips tug up a bit at your words. you're so awkward and nervous, just like you were at the start.

"i have a nice life. i mean it's been a lot recently with peter's whole identity thing. i have- erm," you coughed, choking on your words, remembering the news announcing her to have died. you let your eyes fall to the ground. "i had a really great best friend and we, you know. i helped her raise peter after ben,"

"who? aunt may?"

your pained eyes looked up and found his. "you know may?"

"i-i was raised by my aunt may, too."

"did i-?"

"no, no, you-" peter felt a sob kick in his throat. "you and i, we-uhm. you were my mj."

you felt your glassy eyes widen. your eyebrows finding your hairline.

you did find him cute. you two were certainly much more similar in age compared to your peter being on verge of eighteen

"i was?"

"you were,"

"what-what happened?"

"i-," peter swallowed his words but they kept resurfacing. "i got involved with someone who was trying to expose my identity, too. but you-you saved me. but i-i couldn't save you."

"oh," you watched his eyes train on the ground. they scrunched together in an effort to build a wall against himself. his fists balled up, his fingers bruising his palms.

you scooted closer. you wanted to keep your distance for his comfort. but, if you two were that close in his universe, you're sure he wouldn't mind how close you sat.

your arm fell onto his back, rubbing it in smooth circles. you took attention to how different his suit compared to the one you were most familiar with.

"you don't blame yourself, do you?" you almost heard a small laugh in his throat, and you suddenly became embarrassed by your question, "sorry, that was dumb. you're you, of course you do,"

he laughed louder, more hearty. more full.

you always had a way of making him laugh despite the circumstances.

"don't-don't blame yourself," you tripped over your words. "if-if i'm anything like me," you squinted your eyes at how odd the sentence was, "then i'm sure i was fully aware of the situation."

peter looked over to you. what a surreal experience it was, to be getting consoled about your death by you.

"i thought it was worth it. my life for yours. i feel the same about the peter from this universe. i'm sure i wanted you to be happy and continue doing good things,"

peter flinched at words that felt too similar to the sentiment you left him with.

"i wouldn't want you to stay grieving over me like this, peter. i don't want you to grieve over me like this. i want you to be happy and enjoying the life i left for"

peter's lack of sounds or movements stirred the pot of anxiety in your stomach. your fingers twitched and your eyebrows felt knitted together.

you didn't think twice about your instinct to very gently wrap your arms around him.

an arm crossed over his chest and tugged on his shoulder to pull him into you. your other hand made it's way into his hair, and you ran your fingers through the messy brownness.

he leaned into your touch, he'd never fight an opportunity to feel your touch again, even just once more. his head found its way onto your shoulder.

"i'm-i'm sorry, i'm not good with words," you whispered.

he laughed, tears falling despite his happiness to be in your arms. at least he can take it in and a enjoy it this time, truly absorb you knowing this would be the last time.

"it's okay, i know,"

you two sat like that for a long time. no words, just your hands nervously in his hair and his head relaxing on your shoulder, face in your neck.

you worried you smelled bad, and how badly you were with your words, whether you upset him more, if he could hear your heartbeat.

peter disregarded everything, though.

he took in your sweet smell, you smelled the same as you. he went over your words in his head, appreciating your thoughtfulness. he'd learned to decode what you and others felt were messy sentences. your "messy sentences" became the only ones he truly felt he could understand.

and he very much could hear how fast your nervous heartbeat was.

[earth2rin]

DILF!BAKUGO

warnings: maybe a little suggestive if you squint your eyelids real close but otherwise just pure fluff!!!

drabble drabble drabble

~

just thinking about dilf!bakugo who has a daughter who is absolutely the sweetest angel you have ever met and i have two different scenarios for this.

you have her in your kindergarten class and she is just the cutest little thing. she’s always so polite and kind to others. one time the class went to a petting zoo and she was so quiet and gentle with the animals. at one point she was sitting on the hay covered ground with a piglet asleep in her lap. some other kid went over to her screaming about how cute it was and how they wanted to hold it and she scolded the kid. “now hush! can’t you see it’s sleeping. you can have a turn when it’s awake.” she whispered just a tad bit ticked off.

the day they got out for winter break you had a christmas party for the kids and boy was it hectic. there was hot chocolate spilt, cookie crumbs all over the place, frosting smeared on the chairs, you know all the normal kid things. as your picking up you hear her quiet voice behind you, “miss (l/n) would you like some help?” and your heart melts. you send her a sweet smile and shake your head, “no i got it baby, but thanks for asking pumpkin!” she makes a thin line with her lips, “are you sure? my daddy won’t be here for a little while, i really don’t mind!” she wasn’t gonna take no for an answer huh? 10 minutes go buy and you both finished and are now dancing to every breath you take by the police when suddenly you hear a knock and a gruff voice at the doorway. you turn around and katsumi runs in that direction. “hi daddy! how was work?” she says as she hugs him tightly. “it was good sweet pea thanks for asking.” as he plants a kiss on her forehead. he turns to you and stumbles a little. god you were gorgeous. “sorry i’m late, i had a little incident to take care of, i hope she didn’t cause too much trouble.” you shake your head and smile “never! she is the sweetest girl i have ever met!” you giggle a little and he smiles. katsumi runs up to you and hugs your leg. “i’ll see you in a few weeks miss (l/n)! have a great christmas break!” she hands you a card of her and her dad wearing matching green turtle necks and jeans. she had saved a christmas card for you. you smile so big and give her hug, “merry christmas katsumi! i hope you have a wonderful christmas and new year! be safe you two!” you wave goodbye and bakugos eyes gaze a little longer and then you can’t see them anymore.

another one would be you being bakugos assistant and sometimes (3 times out of 5) she’ll come to the agency afterschool. she’ll sit in a chair right next to his desk in the office, or she’ll go to the break room to sit at a table (a disney princess one with matching chairs that bakugo got for her) and she’ll draw and color on a notebook that you bought for her. sometimes she’ll even ask for you to lift her up and sit her on your desk and just talk your ear off. which you enjoy because it truly is interesting to get a peak inside a 6 year olds mind, especially pro hero dynamights childs’ at that. she’ll ramble and ramble about “miss (l/n), did you know that baby kangaroos are called joeys?” “do you think ants have nightmares miss (l/n)?” “what would happen if a volcano just erupted right now miss (l/n)?!” “miss (l/n) have you ever had a durian? they stink P U!” and you can’t help but entertain her thoughts by saying “really? i thought they’d be called dunkins!” “i’m sure ants have nightmares, they’re probably scared of some little blonde 6 year old girl drowning them with a water hose.” “well if a volcano exploded right now i’m sure your dad would pick you up and get you as far away from here honey!” “no i haven’t had a durian pumpkin, im sure they can’t smell as bad as your father.” you say as you pinch your nose and waft your hands and she bursts out in laughter.

katsumi sees her dad from the corner of her eye and covers her mouth to try and muffle her giggling, but it doesn’t work to any avail. “what’s all this laughter huh? this is a no laughing environment, only serious faces here.” bakugo says as he goes to tickle her sides. “m-miss (l/n) s-says you’re more stink-ier than a-a-a durian!” she lets out in between giggles and he pauses. “is what i’m hearing true miss (l/n)?” he says with a knowing smirk. you turn your head back to your computer with a straight face. “i said no such thing.” with a side eye. “hmm if i can recall last night you were saying my bedsheets sme-” you shush him and shoo him off shooting katsumi a smile to which she gives an even wider one back.

[mehidktbh]

Spiders

Pairing: Mick "Sniper" Mundy x Fem!Reader

Summary: A hot summer day attracts all types of insects to get into the base, out of the hot sun and humid air. Only to be faced with their death by someone not so keen on them.

Warning: Swearing, the killing of a spider? Ngl this is just something I threw together before I slept. 🤷🏼‍♀️

A/N: Wanted to make this before I write my next Simon Riley fic (thanks to your votes). But this also came from today when I found a little Black Widow Spider in my shoe. Still living in Australia I cannot with any insects. (Also it's canon that Sniper has a feat of Spiders, I was there)

How much longer of this humid sun did you have to go through? At first, you thought that the summer would stay when needed, but no. You've got months ahead of you, knowing you're going to wake up in a pile of slickly unpleasant sweat every day. Even worse is the lousy air conditioning in the base, it's been fixed so many times it runs as low as it can. Just as bad as the air circulation too.

So here you are, slouched over in the main room, the leather seat sticks to your bare skin the second you'd get up. You'd be carrying the whole couch along with you. Scout sits next to you, his loud huffing is getting annoying, and one of his arms is slung on the back of the couch. Just touching your head but you're too into heatstroke to realise he's nearly touching your hair.

Sniper sits next to you too, a chair for himself as he spreads fully out. His usual smirk rests on his face as he casually looks over to the two of you. "Gettin' comfortable 'ere?" Scout slowly looks over at him, a scowl on his face. Usually, he'd fling himself across the room, both hands probably strangling the poor bushman but all he can do is roll his eyes.

"How abou' 'cha Y/N?" A weak smile slowly appears on your face, and you flick him a thumbs up. Only he sees right through your smile. But he nods sharply, flicking his attention to the TV. To him, an interesting documentary on animals hibernating. How different animals do it in different seasons and how bears survive through the cold season catches his attention more than you and Scout combined.

But you're too busy looking over at the small old-fashioned fridge. You begin to wonder how cold it really is in there, usually, the beers don't get nearly as cold enough to drink comfortably but still, that's better than nothing. So gradually you start to get up, the leather breaking apart from your skin makes you cringe but it dies out over the TV.

"Bears can be woken easily during a mild spell of weather, but may not have enough energy to survive the rest of the winter. Which is why-" "AHH!"

Your inarticulate and high-pitched scream easily overpowers the TV, even with its high volume on it's enough to echo throughout the whole base. "Holy- What?" Scout's Boston accent quickly appears behind your terrified figure. Sniper also sprints right behind him to reach you from across the room. Looking over your shoulder to see what's got you shaken up and pointing at.

Expecting to see another head or organ which Medic decided to leave unattended in the fridge or on the kitchen counter. But instead, he only spots a little Black Widow Spider sitting unsettled on the counter. Eating away at the bread crumbs left behind from Heavy's sandvich.

"Kill it, Scout, before it kills us!" You frantically order Scout, only he groans in annoyance. "Jesus Y/N! I thought you found someone fucking dead" Your hands shake his shoulders back and forth quickly. "Well, you're about to find my body if you don't-" Before you can say anything he leaves swiftly. Ignoring your pleas as he tiredly walks back to the couch.

Looking over to Sniper you give him the same look in your eyes, a plead. "Pfft, watch an' learn" You watch as Sniper leans over to the counter more. The movement of his arm quickly alerts the pernicious red spider as it begins to move quickly. A yelp nearly leaves Sniper's mouth as he backs away instantly.

"You're scared?" You ask not out of laughter... well maybe. But more because you generally thought he'd be used to Spiders by now. Living in the outback much mean he's dealt with them thousand times before, right? "Nah'm not." His usual down-to-earth and easygoing face now flashes bright red either from the humid air or is now because you mention his (unknowingly) fear of spiders?

But before you can mutter out a single word he reaches over the counter again, his eyes glued to the Spider chilling there. His whole hand flexed and tense as he quickly snatched a tissue from the box. The sudden sound sends the Spider flying in his direction. It sends him flying backwards, his hands coming out in front of him like he was going to fistfight the insect.

You on the other hand you're now snickering softly, the fear you felt before going away as you watch Sniper unravel in front of you. He quickly catches onto your laughing, a glaring cold look replaces his scared expression as he pushes past you. His shoulders square as he swiftly squishes the spider under the tissue, a gross sound following.

"See, m' not scared of spiders..."

[lex-the-flex]

My apologies but I am d y i n g for luke fic please ill sell my kidney ill do anything for a speckle of luke🙏🙏🙏

It Suits You

Luke Skywalker x reader

Bouncing on his heels, a whole new rush of nerves fills Luke's stomach with no sign of slowing down. Leaning against the temple's stone walls, the young man crosses his arms over his chest, hoping this feeling will leave.

"You okay, Luke?" You whisper before him, hoping to catch his attention.

Opening his eyes, Luke's bright blue orbs light up at the sight of you by his side. A flurry of butterflies replaced the rising nerves and a large smile filled his pink lips.

"Yeah, I'm okay." He replied, fixing his stance.

"You sure? Leia told me you didn't eat breakfast this morning. You may have defeated the Empire, Luke but you need to eat something." You explain, pulling out a piece of cloth from your jacket pocket.

Untying the cloth, Luke carefully traces his fingers over the extended collar of your yellow jacket.

"Is this a new jacket? It looks a little big for you." He teases, pushing down the fabric on your shoulders.

Giggling, you offer Luke your extra sticky bun with your favorite icing. Breaking off a bit, he tosses the bread in his mouth with a smile. Wiping the few scattered crumbs from his black v-neck, you shove the bun in your mouth, and shrug the jacket off your frame.

"...H-Here." You mumble with the bread through your teeth.

Offering Luke your yellow jacket, he wiggles in the warm piece of clothing. Adjusting the fabric around his shoulders, the jacket fits his frame nicely.

"Thank you, Y/N. But I can't take your jacket." He pleads, motioning to take it off.

"No, no! It suits you, Luke. Keep it. Now, my hero deserves his medal." You reply, running your hands through his dirty blonde hair.

sw taglist ~

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@ancient-stardust

[littlemisssquiggles]

So squiggles....we saw our boy. But at what cost?

Ahahaaaa not only that Key m’boi. Not only did we get our BOI at a cost but we also got what is the closest thing to a “Rosegarden crumb” outta RWBY V9 in this episode at a cost.

Miles and Kiersi who co-wrote this episode can both kiss my chocolate-coated ass for this scene!

How dare you?!

I mean, Miles did hint once upon a time that Ruby’s bond with Oscar is still being defined.

The fact that this is the second time that Neo has used Oscar’s form to break Ruby is meaningful.

I find it most curious that Neo knows of Oscar’s connection to Ruby. She must’ve seen their little moment at Schnee Manor back in V7 and put 2+2 together.

Jokes aside, this moment, as dark as it was meant something in the grand scheme of things.

Of all the people that Neo could’ve shown Ruby causing the death of, I find it interesting that was Oscar’s.

She could’ve shown her Weiss or Blake or Yang or even Jaune. Heck she could’ve even shown her Penny.

But the fact that it was Oscar means something.

I mean yeah sure, it makes sense for it to be Oscar since Oz was there before and Oscar is Oz’s successor.

But the fact that Neo knows that Oscar is important enough to Ruby to use his form in such a manner to break her. That’s what got me about that scene.

And what’s more interesting that this isn’t the first time Neo used a hurt Oscar to get to Ruby. Remember she used her tortured and battered form while they were fighting in the Void before ended up in the Ever After.

The point I’m trying to make is that this shows that Ruby values Oscar’s life. It highlights why she’s always been so protective of him in past seasons.

Oscar is another special person that Ruby has come to cherish. Someone who means a lot to her that she doesn’t want to lose.

Ruby doesn’t want to fail Oscar.

Oscar means something to Ruby and I feel like once the group returns to Remnant, the way Ruby looks at Oscar following her experience in the Ever After will be much different than before.

Not saying this will mean they’ll become lovers, making Rosegarden canon or anything like that.

I’m just saying, the dynamic between Ruby and Oscar could potentially change after this volume as a result of what Neo did to Ruby in the Ever After.

And let's not forget, we don't know what's going on in the Remnant right now. We don't know how much time has passed in Remnant while RWBYJ have been stuck in the Ever After.

We don't know how much time has passed between Oscar and the others learning that their allies probably died on the other side of the Portal.

Let me put something into perspective:

In the Ever After, Ruby saw Oscar die by her hands.

What if...back on Remnant, after Winter informs everyone of what happened in the Portal, Oscar blames himself for essentially causing Ruby's "death" since technically he was the one with the knowledge of the Staff and should've known better.

What if...Oscar ends up taking responsibility for all that happened to RWBYJ in the Portal and his feelings for Ruby will change as result of thinking he had lost her forever?

So it's a case where both Ruby and Oscar realize how much they mean to each other by believing for a period that had killed the other? If that makes sense?

Who knows? I could be very much wrong about this hunch. But that’s how I see it.

~LMS (2023)

[brittle-doughie]

Fic Teasers

This is to let folks know that their requests are being made, also to possibly get you curious for when these stories drop. I won’t show too many to keep the surprise, but just know that most requests in general are being worked on!

Dissension (Ancient Cookies)

“If only Y/N Cookie were with us, their rallying call never fails to strengthen our resolve!”

“Do not forget their ability to strike at the critical points of their opponent! They’d fall under their feet after an attack!”

White Lily looked downward to the floor, worry evident in her eyes. Maybe she should’ve gone with you, what if you were in trouble? What if you hurt? These thoughts just made her worry worse…

Star of the Industry (Musical Cookies)

“Tell us, Y/N Cookie, how does it feel to be the next big and upcoming pop star? Your tracks never fail to reach around the top of the chart! I struggle to even get a physical copy with how many cookies crowd the stores!”

You chuckled before answering her question that you were rather thankful that cookies actually listened to, god, even liked your music! You uploaded your first track for fun, not really expecting the SURGE of popularity it garnered!

“Haha! That’s Y/N Cookie for you, viewers! Humble to the end! Your songs are always so sweet and amazing, it’s even garnered the attention of other cookies in the industry! Even the superstar, Shining Glitter Cookie, plays your songs in her car, humming along to it!”

Shining Glitter…actually likes your songs too? That…was a lot to take in actually, hehe.

The Sweetest Cookie on Earthbread (Disney Cookies)

You never really considered yourself a good dancer, so Belle and Beast Cookie offered to help with that, to which you appreciated their willingness to help you! You declined however, those two seemed fine dancing with each other, you didn’t wanna be a bother.

Belle Cookie did always have a bold spirit, hence she decided to just pull you by the collar of your outfit into a dance with her as Beast Cookie gave pointers on posture and footwork.

You went back and forth dancing with the two cookies. Belle, then Beast, back to Belle, then back to Beast. Who knew dancing requiring so much practice! At least, that’s why Beast Cookie kept telling you at least.

Tape #1: Snowfall

The cold…it grew unbearable. You knew you should’ve brought heavier winter clothes, but going back now would mean losing Caramel Arrow’s trail with how much snow was coming down.

You continued to press forward despite your head telling you to turn. back. now.

You needed to find your friend and you weren’t leaving this frozen tundra without her..even if did mean slowly crumbling in the process…

The Deal with a Republic

Like a switch, the cookies of the Republic had thoughts racing in their heads

Elder Custard Cookie wasn’t willing to just hand you over to the others that easily

Light Cream Cookie felt like she had someone she really express herself too, you were so kind, always assuring her that it’s never her fault, she was more confident with you by her side…

Seaweed Cookie thought you were an interesting cookie to talk to, it would be a shame if you were to leave here…

Baumkuchen Cookie needed to study you more, what was this thing about you that he found…charming?

Missionary Cookie knew that you knew too. You had to, she wanted you to see things come to fruition…together.

Thems the Breaks (Mustard Cookie)

Mustard’s mind was racing. Crumbs, oh crumbs! Not even an hour into you leaving your home, she already wrecked a pretty important looking brooch! What was she going do?!

She knew you were an understanding cookie, but this brooch looked important to you, what if you will legitimately hate her for this!? Wait no, it was totally just out of common curiosity to fix things she breaks. Definitely.

She had to fix this mess, now! And for once, it was her mess instead of Grams this time!

[jakekiszkasleftnutsack]

Fan Service - Chapter 2

Josh Kiszka x f!reader

. . . . . . .

Read Chapter 1 here

Summary: After a passionate night in Josh’s dressing room it’s time to camp for another round of DIG. What could the universe possibly have on deck to ruin the third concert in the Michigan lineup?

Warnings: 18+ content minors DNI, swearing, feelings, pining, fingering, dom!Josh, unprotected sex (advised against), oral sex (m and f receiving), praise kink, general roughness, etc.

W/c: 7.5k

A/n: Here it is. It’s been a minute since I’ve been this motivated to write so the timeline is a little wonky, just pretend it makes sense ok. I appreciate everyone who sent me requests and suggestions for this series, and special thanks as always to my gresties for cheering me on. Again, apologies for my shameless self insert. Hopefully we like where this story goes, let me know your thoughts! Thank you for the continued support, i love you all!

Edited by the lovely @gretasamfeettt

Vibes: Something About You - Level 42 and golden hour - JVKE

. . . . . . .

Being born and raised in the Midwest has made you mostly impartial to the cold. You’d spent many a chilly night around dying campfires, many afternoons skiing down powdered hills, and even more mornings trudging through snowbanks just to get to school. Spending ten hours trying to sleep on cold concrete with only a tent to protect you from the early March wind and snow, however, is turning out to be a little out of your comfort zone.

You don’t really mind though, you’d happily suffer through any amount of discomfort to see your favorite band, and having your two best friends with you does dull the pain somewhat. It had been their idea originally to camp out for the slew of shows happening in your area, so you all bought your tickets months in advance and spent the days leading up meticulously preparing. The vibe has been a bit off ever since you rejoined your group the night before, haphazardly dressed after a romp with a rockstar, but they seem excited for you all the same.

Now that you’ve had time to register the events of the night before, you’re scared shitless. You were living in the moment, but when time resumed its normal pace, the reality that Josh Kiszka picked you is almost too much to bear. You were hesitant to give up too many details when they tried to poke and prod them out of you, even if it meant they would believe you to be mildly full of shit. Hell, you can hardly believe it yourself, but there’s no part of you that’s willing to risk breaking his confidence. The experience you shared with Josh was special to you, and you will not be souring it by any means.

You look down at your phone and reread the last text he sent you, ‘I better see you there.

Josh does own a cell phone and uses it quite often, to your complete surprise. After you rejoined your friends the previous night and began the drive to the next city on your roster, you texted your name to the number he gave you. He texted back immediately to wish you a good night, and when morning came and you wished him good luck he returned with that little crumb.

He wants to see me again… Of all people…

He’s probably just being polite…

“Smile for Joshy!” You extend your arm to snap a selfie, posing in line outside the venue to send him in return. The bundled faces of you and your friends are doing their best to smile through clenched teeth and not look frigid in the Michigan winter air.

The caption reads ‘Camping out just to be sure you do’, and you send it off after gaining an approving nod from everyone.

“I’m not convinced this isn’t some sort of elaborate ruse,” your best friend, Quinn, jests after dropping the smile she forced for the picture. “If you’re Josh Kiszka’s sneaky link now then how come we don’t have backstage passes?”

“Ohh my god. I’m not some clout chaser, I can’t just ask him for things ‘cause he paid attention to me once.” You scoff slightly at the insinuation. How could you possibly ask that man for anything after he already gave you the time of day?

Your answer must not be satisfactory, prompting a retort back. “Okay, but he gave you his phone number, and he’s still texting you? If he didn’t like you he would’ve just let you leave. I saw the way he watched you get whisked away, it was like a fucking romance movie.”

He did give me his number, some random one-night stands I’ve had haven’t even given me their phone numbers afterward. Maybe there’s a point there..

The thought feels so ridiculous in your mind you barely want to let it take root. He’s already taking up so much of your headspace, letting the idea that you might have a chance with him seems much too dangerous of a concept.

“Would you stop getting my hopes up? Everybody knows they don’t have groupies… plus he just slept with me the one time, it didn’t mean anything.” You trail off, suddenly disappointed with yourself for remembering that small fact.

Disappointed about what? Getting attached already? Pitiful.

“Who said anything about being a groupie? I’m sure that’s not the reason he doesn’t show all his fuck buddies off to the masses.” Nina, the third part of your little trio, chimes in. “If I had known that getting beat up in the pit was the way to bag a Kiszka I would’ve knocked my own ass out in front of them a long time ago.”

“Why does everyone keep saying I got beat up?!”

. . .

Not too much later, your phone lights up, his name is on the screen accompanied by a silly picture of him you had saved. Highway Tune plays loud and clear through the speaker, but all you can do is stare as your fight or flight response kicks into gear. Beyond unprepared for an event like this, you turn your hand to show your friends the screen with a deer in headlights look on your face.

“Speakerphone, bitch. Now!” Nina screams at you frantically as the opportunity slips away.

Fuck.

With an appropriate sense of urgency, you clear your throat and swipe across the glass to answer with a cute but casual “Hey!”

“I’m sorry, you’re doing what?” In your experience, no introduction means business. Even when separated by the phone and however many miles, his slightly acidic tone gives you chills.

“Camping! Ya know, for the barricade!”

“You mean you’re outside the damn arena right now?” He sounds relatively calm in contrast to the intensity of his words, it’s hard to tell if he’s really angry or not.

“Well yeah! It’s how you get to be up front… you do know what goes down at your shows, right?” you giggle in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Y/n… How long have you been out there?”

“I don’t know… some hours…” You dart your eyes to the girls, silently begging them to not say a word about how you drove through the night on no sleep from the previous show to get right back in line for another.

“It’s freezing fucking cold outside, absolutely not, I won’t have it.”

What the fuck does that mean?

“You won’t have it? It’s what everybody does, honestly, it’s fine I have my friends with me. It’s part of the whole experience.”

A contemplative sigh comes from his end of the line followed by a long pause.

“Josh?” You hear some distant voices and shuffling around coming from whoever he’s taken a second to speak to.

“Your friends can come too.” He finally answers.

“Josh, what are you…you’re not sending another goon to kidnap me again, are you?”

“Yeah Peach, stay put for me alright?” The line beeps dead, leaving everyone's jaws dropped at the audacity.

After a moment passes, Quinn is the first to say something. “So. Peach, huh?”

. . .

Faster than you had expected, a wide guy in a baseball cap with a scruffy beard approaches you and your friends in line. You instantly recognize him to be the same guy that rescued you from the pit and kept you like a present for Josh backstage the night before.

“Hey, it’s you!” You exclaim, relieved to be seeing a somewhat familiar face.

“Nice to see you again, Miss y/n. Mr. Kiszka asked me to show you and your friends inside.”

Slightly panicked glances are being shot all around amongst yourselves as you pack up your stuff, unsure of the unorthodox situation that won’t stop unfolding. Gossipy murmurs and glares are shot your way from those in line who may have been snooping, but once your blankets and chairs are picked up he leads you around the side of the building to a door out of sight from the other campers.

“What’s your name?” You ask him as you follow his lead close behind. “Since you know my name I don’t wanna keep calling you security boy.”

He chuckles and shoots a smile over his shoulder. “I’m Trevor, but security boy is fine if you like it.”

“Okay, security boy. How long have you worked for Josh?”

“I’ve been head security for the band for a couple months now.”

“I thought they just used venue security, I never see them out and about with bodyguards.”

“You’re half right. I mostly oversee the local security teams at the concerts and events, but they’ve been needing personal security more than usual lately. Besides, I’m pretty much an assistant at this point with how much they have me run errands like this.”

“Oh, so I’m just another errand, huh?”

“I’m more like your babysitter at this point, don’t you think?” You share a laugh, and instantly tension begins to ease.

You arrive at a small dressing room, which he unlocks and opens up for your group to drop your coats. One by one he hands you each a lanyard with a badge attached, indicating your new security clearance.

“You can warm up and get changed in here, I’ll come to get you when it’s time to head on out. I’ll leave ya to it.”

Josh has him ‘run errands’ a lot, I hope this isn’t something he’s used to…

“Wait…” Standing in the doorway once your group has started unpacking, you fight with yourself for a moment about whether you should ask the million-dollar question. “Is Josh… does he do this a lot? I mean…”

It rolls out with the most pathetically apprehensive voice you’ve ever had the displeasure of speaking, upon hearing it you wish you could take it back. He looks at you for a moment but ultimately seems to take pity on you and places a hand on your shoulder. “No ma’am, he doesn’t.”

He seems earnest enough, and you believe him as much as two strangers can trust each other in these kinds of circumstances. His gesture is enough to soothe a bit of the self-doubt that hasn’t left you alone for about 24 hours.

“Thank you, Trevor.” He touches the bill of his hat and tips it with a gentlemanly nod and half a smile before turning away, leaving you to close the door behind him.

. . .

As the lot of you are getting ready, putting makeup on, and doing your hair, you hear a knock on the door followed by Trevor’s voice. “You ladies decent?”

“Yeah, come in”. You answer without looking up from the flick of eyeliner you’re expertly applying in the mirror.

The door clicks open and the honey-smooth voice floats in before the man himself. “How’s everything coming along in here?,” he says, casual as can be. You flicker your attention up to catch his cocky smile when he enters still in his street clothes. You can’t help but chuckle a little to yourself as you watch your friends attempt to stifle their reactions, but ultimately fail while tripping over each other to meet him.

He greets them politely, asking their names and apologizing for any discomfort in rooting you from your spots in line. As any good fangirl would, they decline his apology and thank him for the opportunity to be inside instead.

“The guys and I were all really worried about everyone out there in the cold, but we know you’re all so dedicated, we couldn’t stop you if we tried.” They agree with him, giggling shamelessly at the charm that seems to come so naturally to him. Watching him interact with fans after knowing how he acts in private is almost comical.

“We really do appreciate you setting aside a spot for us, we know you’re really busy.” You pipe up for the first time.

Gross. You really couldn’t think of anything better to say? Idiot.

He locks eyes with you from where you’re standing against the mirror at the back of the room but says nothing, apart from the way his lips twitch when he takes in the sight of you. Even the blind would be able to notice the instantaneous effect you have on him.

“We didn’t think you guys really knew each other” Nina blurts out while the two odd girls out watch something unspoken bounce back and forth between you.

“Oh no, we definitely know each other. Isn’t that right y/n?” You know the question is rhetorical, but you tip your chin slightly in agreement anyway, a blistering heat behind your eyes. “Would I be able to get a few minutes alone with your friend here, if you guys don’t mind? She’ll join you in a moment, Trevor is just out in the hall to show you to some snacks.”

They nod and scurry out of the room, offering supportive glances, a suggestive wink, and a pair of smiles from behind his back as they file out quicker than you can protest.

His entire demeanor changes when the two of you are left standing alone in the confines of the dressing room, free from anything that could act as a buffer. He was gracious and polite with your friends, clearly putting on a little bit, but you’re with a different person once he shuts and locks the door behind them. Just like the other night, the tension in the surrounding air is palpable.

Don’t make a fool of yourself. Don’t be desperate and weird. You can do this y/n, be confident and breathe.

“You didn’t have to go out of your way to do all this, Josh.” You set down your eyeliner on the counter behind you, doing your best to appear nonchalant despite your heart doing its very best to pound its way out of your chest. As exciting as being in his presence is, you’re also terrified to your core. The energy shift is so seamless you have no room to be rattled by his next move.

Josh shakes his head as he strides towards you, as if hearing the silliest words ever spoken into existence. He closes the gap between you in a few short paces, trapping you in place against the counter. There are barely a few inches between your bodies but you’re steadfast in your cool as a cucumber facade, no matter how unconvincing it may be.

“As much as I appreciate the time you’re willing to put in, I wish you had told me you were gonna wait out in the cold. I could’ve saved you so much earlier.”

“I didn’t really think that was an option. I don’t expect any special treatment.” You long to reach out and touch him, to tear down the invisible barrier holding you back. It’s scary, like there’s some sort of rule you’d be breaking if you did. You’re just trying to be respectful, when in reality that’s the last thing you want to do.

“You should. I can’t give it to everybody but I can give it to you.” Your cheeks flush red forcing you to look down and away from him to avoid getting too flustered, only for him to raise your chin again with one finger to keep your eyes on him, ensuring you really hear what he has to say. “You’re not part of the general population anymore mama, you’re my sweet peach, remember?”

In the wake of his genuinely sweet albeit loaded comment, a wave of emotion returns to blindside you, shattering your smoke screen of indifference like a freight train.

Does he crave me in the same way I crave him?

Could he ever feel anything close to what I feel?

I idolize and ache for him, but what does he think of me?

He’s already been inside me. He’s already had more of me than most other men ever have.

I’ve earned his favor and attention, why am I so quick to reject it?

Does he pity me?

What if he just pities me…

“I’m scared.” You choke out. Without a high to hide behind there’s nothing to stop your bleeding heart from exploding right here in his hands. He catches up with your train of thought though and is so quick to reassure you it might as well be second nature.

“Y/n, what are you scared of?” his eyes flicker back and forth as he searches yours.

“That none of this is real.” you feel you should elaborate but you can’t. Any attempt at trying to explain the thoughts that have been gnawing at you would come out like word vomit. Some preconceived notion you cooked up in your paralyzing anxiety is telling you not to act like his stardom has any effect on you. You’ve wrapped yourself in a cage of barbed wire made of your own cowardice, only to be cut open if a single wrong move is made. He probably goes out of his way to avoid girls like that, so you exercise the minimal restraint you feel capable of to keep it short. Out of fear, of course.

Ever so delicately he takes your hand, brings it to his lips, and ghosts your knuckles along the baby soft skin that rests there. In a breath he leaves a kiss, focusing on the spot for a moment before returning focus to your wet eyes.

“Last night I asked you to trust me and you did, and I took good care of you. Do you still trust me?”

You nod your head.

“Then trust that I’ll continue to take care of you, okay? This is real, I’m real. Look…” he bares his teeth over the back of your hand and play bites it, making you gasp mostly in surprise but you laugh it off crudely, your heart flutters. “See? You’re real too, Peach.”

Of course, Josh would never miss a beat. Of course, all it would take is a teaspoon of vulnerability to prompt him to keep the floodgates from giving way completely to whatever bullshit mess you could concoct.

Stop being so foolish.

You sniffle away the remnants of what could have been a colossal breakdown and crack a smile at him through batted lashes. “Peach.. Is that my name now?”

He nods, moving his lips against your skin again. “I like it, think it’s cute, don’t you?”

“Mhm, it is… I could’ve braved through the cold ya know, hands down.”

“Would you stop complaining every time I try to rescue you?” he snorts in a teasing way that makes you giggle and bite your lip like a little kid with a crush. You try not to get distracted by his chestnut brown eyes, shining bright.

“Anything for you.” For good measure, you toss in a flirty wink with your same line from the night before.

“Again with that shit, babygirl.. I oughta spank you for getting me worked up before a performance. God, you are relentless!”

Finally, you decide to stop fighting the magnetic energy pulling you toward him and lean into his frame. “And I don’t even have to say please?”

A choked moan barely escapes him, and he plays it off with a fake as hell cough that only serves to make you giggle.

“Fuck…” he gives you another quick once over in your concert outfit, smoothing over where he’s wrinkled it in a few spots and breaks out in a smirk, still holding your chin in place to keep you from looking elsewhere, “You look delicious, Peach. Are you me this time?”

The outfit in question just so happens to be a top modeled after the jumpsuit he wore in Los Angeles during the Strange Horizons tour paired with a miniskirt. Pure groupie behavior, yet again. You do your best not to roll your eyes at yourself.

“So, I didn’t plan on meeting you when I picked out my-“ in very Joshua fashion, he just can’t wait until the end of your sentence to swoop in for a bruising, searing hot open mouthed kiss that almost makes you stumble. Your lips mash together sloppily but you don’t care. You just want to feel like he has to have you, maybe he really does.

“How’s that bruised peach doing?” His words are barely intelligible at the lowest end of his register and doesn’t wait for an answer before reaching for the hem of your skirt. “Show me.”

You let him spin you around and hike up your skirt around your hips so he has full access to the panties adorning the purple blotches on your skin. There hasn’t been quite enough time for you to inspect the damage made by your fall, but he’s careful to avoid it.

“I know they’re pretty ugly.” you try to avoid thinking about it, instead focusing on his hand that’s made its way between your legs and is exploring the lacy edge of your panties. Another part of you is hoping the edge of the counter won’t crack under your iron-clad grip on it, purely keeping your knees from losing their integrity.

“Hush, sweetness. Look.” his free hand wraps around you to grab your chin, forcing your gaze upon the mirror you’ve found yourself facing. “See how beautiful you are? Nothing could taint that.”

Right then, he slips his hand under the lace and dives into your slit, already wet to the touch. You’re not sure why watching his hand move obscenely against you has you feeling so embarrassed, but when you see your own cheeks turning rosy you try to turn and protest the position. “Josh..”

“Don’t look away. Watch me.” he holds you still, pressing two of his fingers into you with a squelch. Watching yourself was one thing, but seeing the look on his face when he makes contact with that heavenly gummy texture is something that will be seared into your mind forever. It’s close to a look of pain, like he can’t stand just how unreal you feel to him.

“Good God, y/n.” he stays tucked inside for a few pumps of his wrist before leaving your warmth to press those drenched fingers to your lips. You don’t need a command this time to open up and lick them clean.

“How can I possibly focus on putting on a good show when you’re out here distracting me? Saboteur, that’s what you are!”

“And how am I supposed to enjoy the music I paid good money to see if you’re just gonna be making me horny? Are you going to repay me?”

“Well… you got me there. Maybe if you behave.”

. . .

Now, typically when one has backstage passes to a concert, that usually grants access to back stage. It’s right there in the name. However, you camped with your friends for however long before Joshua stepped in, and your hopes have been set on snagging a spot at the barricade. It’s not something you’re all too fond of giving up on.

Once Josh had released you from his grasp and excused himself to get ready, leaving you with a kiss on the cheek as you part ways, your friends returned with the news that the doors were about to open. It took some light convincing on your part, but Trevor agreed to let you into the pit early so you can secure a spot up front. Watching from backstage the night before was really cool, of course it was, but this is an experience you’d been dreaming of for just as long. Josh Kiszka is not going to be the reason you miss it.

Standing where you are now, directly in front of where he’ll be standing shortly with the gardens gate key hanging high above you, your stomach is firmly planted in your ass. The openers were amazing, adding to the intense build up of the curtain dropping any minute now. You feel almost more nervous now than you did the first time around, but this time it’s a different breed.

When the curtain finally falls and the shrieks of the girls around you dampen your senses, he’s right where he’s supposed to be and instant relief washes over you. Chest puffed out, wide stance, head held high, utterly ecstatic. You can trace his eyes scanning the audience, taking in the sheer mass of the crowd and every face that he can make out. Until they land on you. It’s subtle, but you can tell he wasn’t expecting to see you there, cheering for him as he so deserves.

“Give me my money’s worth, baby!” you don’t care if he can hear you or not, you’re not even sure of the words that spewed out. Everybody knows the most unhinged thoughts sometimes slip in the presence of these men anyway.

He lingers on you with the smuggest expression, a hint of deviance mixed in as well, and licks his lips before diving into the lyrics of their first song.

Yeah, he heard me, that little fucker.

Song after song you hype him up, screaming his name and blowing him kisses, singing along to every single word. Each and every time he lands in front of you he does something ridiculously out of pocket and slutty. Whether it be thrusting his hips, licking his lips, or growling into the damn microphone, he makes eye contact with you every single time.

Every. Single. Time. Without fail.

Oh my god. He’s actually taunting me…

“Who’s misbehaving now, Joshy!?” you scream when he lets a particularly moan-like cry sound out through the arena. It’s your last straw when he sticks his tongue out at you in response. All you can think about is how badly you want to see that tongue somewhere else, and how you want to make him pay for his actions when you finally can.

He’s incorrigible

As the end of Safari Song dawns you recognize the familiar rhythm that marks the beginning of Danny’s drum solo. A fluttering feeling returns to your chest with the realization, because the drum solo also happens to be when Josh rides the shoulders of a security guard to pass out roses.

When he reaches you, he places a rose purposefully in your hand and you try not to swoon when he winks at you from his high horse. He’ll be coming back around shortly to have some face-to-face time with his adoring fans, but with how hard he’s been throwing his sexuality around the stage for the whole world to see you quickly try to think of something that will make him swoon back.

Like a wave, the screaming and shuffling of young women starts to crawl back in your direction, and you’ve finally settled on your move as he appears in your line of sight once again. Instead of blindly reaching for him hoping for just a touch of attention like everyone else, you make eye contact with him as he approaches and hold out your hand open faced. He seems to think nothing of the out of the ordinary gesture and reaches out. In a split second, you fake him out as he’s about to grab your hand, surpassing his grasp to reach up as far as you can.

“Hi baby” is all you can think to say, but it’s more than enough. You can make out the words ‘Hi Peach’ move across his lips with no accompanying sound. Somewhere in the process he catches on and bends just slightly to close the gap for you, never once breaking the eye contact you’re trying so hard to hold. As you reach his face you caress his cheek, using your thumb to slightly grace his bottom lip until he’s pulled out of range.

The exchange barely lasted more than a few heartbeats, but the impact is profound. You didn’t believe it was possible to actually see stars in someone’s eyes until the whole universe manifested in Josh’s. There’s remnants of a blush on the apples of his cheeks when he hops back on stage, and you do your best to vacate the butterflies from your stomach as the show carries on oblivious to your secret.

. . .

After the show ends and the house lights come up, you take your pictures and exchange socials with the girls around you that had bonded with you between sets. Then, once everything has substantially died down, you exchange quick glances at your friends before hopping over the barricade and flashing your security badges at the men who immediately try to stop you.

It’s a funny feeling, floating around backstage aimlessly. You eventually are able to latch onto the sound of Trevor’s voice and follow it until you see the boys huddled around talking, already changed out of their concert attire. Sam and Jake notice you before he does, but you tap Josh on the shoulder anyway. When he turns he smiles like the sunshine boy he is, rushes to you without hesitation and wraps his arms around you, picks you up, and spins you around like you’re old friends in an airport who haven’t seen each other in years.

“Holyyy shit, Peach! Did you get your money’s worth?” he cries gleefully as he sets you down and squishes your cheeks between his palms, knocking loose a few rhinestones you had placed there.

“And more! You acted like a proper slut out there!”

“Thank you, thank you, I try my best. I didn’t expect you to be right in front! You almost had me for a minute there, mama.”

“Yeah, well you deserved it.”

“Ahem,” Jake slaps a hand down on Josh’s shoulder and turns his attention to you. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything. Dear brother, why don’t you introduce us to your friend?”

You take matters into your own hands and thrust yours out to him, which he shakes warmly smiling a devilish grin to match. “Hello Jacob, I’m y/n.”

“Ahhh so this is the dreamboat that kept you so preoccupied last night!?” Sam interjects, pulling you away from the twins and into a hug that you were not prepared for but accept happily anyway.

“Hi Sammy, sorry for keeping him from his important frontman duties.”

“Well shit, he’s not that important.” he laughs, jabbing a playful shove at his eldest brother's shoulder, prompting a scuffle to ensue that you carefully step away from. In taking a step back you bump into Danny, who was standing off to the side with his arms crossed watching the encounter unfold.

“Oops, sorry.” he catches and steadies you, keeping you from taking a tumble when you try to correct yourself but instead misstep.

I just cannot stop being clumsy for two seconds, can I?

“You sweet, sweet angel. You never have to apologize to me Danny,” already being in close proximity, you wrap him in the biggest hug you can manage. “That was my bad anyway.”

“Oh, wow. You’re so sweet, it’s so nice to meet you.”

“Ditto, my friend.” you try not to think about how that was the best hug anyone has ever given you.

You introduce your friends to the rest of the band one at a time and return to Josh’s side, allowing everyone to get their hugs in, some lingering a bit longer than they should. Everyone mingles with each other discussing the events of the night, laughing about things that were thrown on stage and signs that were made until you notice Josh’s arm snaking its way around your waist to pull you flush against him.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” he whispers in your ear, “To the hotel this time?”

If smiles were contagious the one that splits your face in that moment would have everyone infected.

“Love to.” you nod to emphasize your point then turn to say your goodbyes to Quinn and Nina, who are probably just fine being left in their present company. The last thing you need is a thousand missed texts and calls from them if you were to just disappear into the night. Josh does no such thing and makes his move to whisk you away rather hastily.

Trevor, who was standing close by, escorts the two of you outside, blocking you from the view of a small huddle of girls waiting for a glimpse of the boys. You must have stood around talking for too long based on how many of them have accumulated. You make your way to a blacked out car waiting with a driver ready to go, and slide in as quickly as possible. It’s a short drive to the hotel but Josh insists on taking a moment to pick a song for the journey before taking off.

“Come on, Joshua” you roll your eyes playfully as he scrolls through an endless playlist.  

“Shut up and hear me out, okay? The song choice is important!”

The first couple notes of Your Love play through the speakers, but he turns to you slowly to see your reaction like he just told you he knows your deepest darkest secrets.

“I thought you guys were supposed to have pretentious music taste?” you tease. 

“What?! You don’t like this song? Who doesn’t like this song?!”

He breaks into song in the middle of the lyrics at the top of his lungs just for you, clearly to annoy you, but little does he know that everything he’s ever done is endearing beyond comprehension.  You might have even been disappointed if he didn’t pull something that gave you just a tinge of secondhand embarrassment.  His charisma and silliness are becoming and the way he’s singing, waiting for you to give in and humor him has you jumping in at the chorus, matching his energy.  It’s the power ballad to end all power ballads.

I’m singing with Josh Kiszka.  Josh is singing to me.  What the fuck is my life becoming? 

As the music fades out of the chorus and you’re left giggling at the antics, you look out your open window to feel the wind on your face and revel in the ambiance of the next song paired with passing street lights against a black sky.  If you were paying attention you’d see Josh’s stare never left you.  He’s watching you, fawning over you, taken by your beauty as you admire the night.

. . .

Josh lets you into the room first to venture in on your own, you look around briefly at nothing in particular until you hear the door close and lock. When he doesn’t immediately come to you, you turn to catch him subtly admiring you. He meets your gaze and reaches a hand out to you, his eyes are soft but set ablaze with determination.

“I don’t think you know how magnetic you are.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You take his hand, and once they’ve met he pulls you towards him, only to be turned and pressed against the wall at your back. He kisses you passionately just like earlier, you can feel the adrenaline thumping his heart against his ribcage so hard you think you could see it beneath his supple skin if you weren’t so occupied.

He grabs your ass with both hands and slides them down the backs of your thighs, guiding each one with an effortless lift to rest around his waist. You didn’t expect him to be so strong, but he cradles you with such care despite how ravenously his mouth moves down your chin to lap at your throat. In the darkest depths of your mind, you wish he would take a bite.

You grind your hips against the nearest thing you can, which happens to be his stomach, it heaves at the motion causing you to groan. Every little move you make elicits a clear visceral reaction, making the pit in your stomach tunnel deeper by the minute.

You want to tell him to tear you apart.  You want to tell him to bury himself inside you and stay there until he’s contemplated his own existence, twice.  All that you’re able to form into a coherent thought is “Joshy, more…” 

“Making demands already?” he mumbles into the crook of your neck.

You take no notice of his taunt and start pulling at his clothes blindly, making no real progress towards getting them off, to his amusement. An unmistakable poke makes itself known against your panties, which happen to be exposed to the air by the shortness of your skirt in your current position.

“Don’t ignore me, princess.” he runs his teeth along your collarbone as he digs into the meat of your thigh with his fingers, and a tortured moan vibrates out of you in return. “What do you say when you want something?”

“Please!” you practically scream “Dear God, please. Please just fuck me already!” The last of your self respect flies out the window, but to be fair it’s mostly been absent since he stepped out on stage to fuck the entire stadium.

One of his hands leaves your body, awkwardly and desperately reaching to unbuckle his pants, your faces pressed together cheek to cheek. You hold onto his shoulders on instinct to keep from falling to the floor, though he has you pinned so tightly between the wall and his own body you could let go of him entirely and remain in place. Your cunt pulses in anticipation when he ruts his freed cock against the thin material covering you. The wetness of your panties must be ridiculous, as the shaky breath coming from him feels beyond depraved.

“Y/n, oh my.. Fuck.” he slides it against the material once more while holding you still, using you in a sense, taking what he needs, and you wait patiently while he does.

Because that’s what good girls do.

He praises you while he reaches to pull your panties to the side and nuzzles his tip against your entrance. His head rolls back when he thrusts inside, leaving you huffing quick and shallow breaths against his ear, wisps of his hair tickling your nose as they’re blown around. He hums a sound of delight and settles into a comfortable yet delicious rhythm of bucking his hips up to meet your core.

“Who’s good girl are you? Say it.” he sounds like he might be close to his climax, so you humor him and fist your hand into his hair just how he likes it.

“I’m yours, Josh. I’m your good girl.”

I belong to you.  I always will.

He whines at your response and his pace changes, speeding up but stuttering. He claws at your delicate top, tearing it at the neckline to rip down the middle, exposing your bouncing breasts to him in a way that would ignite the most perverted parts of any man’s brain.

“Are you gonna cum in me, baby?” you tighten your walls around him, approaching your own feeling of ecstasy.

He just nods fervently and adjusts his grip on your ass, his fingers wandering as far as they can to grab a handful until they’re almost touching in the middle. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t for him to use his grip to spread your cheeks, parting your folds to allow him an unobstructed reach into your depths. “I can’t fucking wait, I’m gonna…” he strains to speak, fucking into you to the hilt as he twitches inside you and cum overflows from your meeting point as he completely loses himself in you.

Carefully, he steps back with you still in his arms, retreating to take a seat on the edge of the bed. Still straddling him, you settle onto his cock which has yet to soften.

“I’m sorry, Peach. I got too excited.” his head rests on your shoulder as he catches his breath.

“No, don’t be sorry. I wanted you to cum, it feels good.”

“You can feel it?” the genuine surprise on his face when he looks up at you in pleased shock makes you giggle, and the sight of your delight makes him laugh along with you as he moves his hands to rub little circles over your hardened nipples.

“Yeah I can, I feel it right here… deep inside.” you place one finger between his hips in the center of his abdomen and press down, making him giggle uncontrollably and lurch to swat at your hand.

“No no no no, I’m ticklish!”

You hold your hands up in surrender, and after the laughing subsides, he lays back on the bed, sprawling out under your weight. “Well, I’m not gonna let you leave empty handed. Get up here.” he gestures for you to follow him by curling his finger at you and licks his lips.

You slide him out of you and shift your weight to move up his body until his head is between your legs.

“Other way, mama. Turn around.” you quirk an eyebrow at him but do as he says, carefully avoiding kneeing him in the face as you turn to face his feet. As you get into position, he rests his hands on the tops of your legs. “All the way down.”

You resist the urge to laugh. “I’ll crush you.”

“No you won’t, it’s ‘kay, I got you.” he wraps his arms all the way around your legs and lowers you until his extended tongue makes contact. Immediately he goes for the motions that spark pleasure in you the most, it makes you suspect that he’s learning your body quicker than any mediocre fuckboy ever has.

How his cock is still hard as a rock is beyond you, seemingly impossible, but makes for something to keep your hands busy with while he eats you like a last meal.  You’ve spent an unreasonable amount of time on your own imagining what his cock looks like, having access to it this way feels like such a privilege.  

Taking him in your hand, you lazily work your fist over him and lean just enough to leave kitten licks on the head of his cock, teasing it and coaxing flustered noises out of him that reverberate through your whole body. You rotate your hips the slightest bit, adjusting his position without breaking his concentration as he consumes you, sucking up the juices that leak out and lapping at your clit every time you let out a broken sigh.

“Josh.. don’t stop.”. That familiar building feeling begins its ascent when he sucks your clit into his mouth, leaving you mewling as you suckle on him helplessly.

Light muffled moans just cascade out of his chest with little words of affirmation peppered in, you swear you think you heard him say ‘so perfect’ under his breath, but you can’t be sure of his incoherent ramblings. After a few moments of enjoying the perfect pressure on your most sensitive parts, you let your orgasm wash over you, and you cum on his tongue that’s ventured back to your opening to dip inside and scoop out the spoils of his efforts. You almost stop him when he continues backward to spread your own cum around your other entrance, but the warm sticky feeling he swirls around with long languid strokes paralyzes you into a fucked out stupor.

“Feel better?” he sprinkles little kisses across your thighs, craning his neck to leave more and more as you swing your leg over to relieve him of his fleshy prison and collapse onto your back.

You manage a happy sounding ‘mmm’ when he climbs on top of you to kiss each of your cheeks and retreats to your side once you reciprocate with a peck on the tip of his nose and a smile. He relaxes into the bed with you, letting one hand fall into your hair, and you just lie together in your shared bliss.

. . .

You chat about nonsense for an unknown amount of time until the chill of the room forces you to finally stand up.

“Where are you going?”

“Just to the bathroom, gonna freshen up.” On the way there you grab your purse and your clothes, and thank your past self for having the foresight to pack a few toiletries in your bag the day before. As you’re about to close the door behind you, his voice stops you.

“Hey, Peach?”

“Yeah?” you poke your head back out into the room, he’s sitting up in bed and looking at you but you can’t quite place the look on his face.

“Will you… stay with me tonight? You can wear some of my clothes or I can grab some from Danny…” the concern in his voice could melt you, but you can’t tell if he’s scared of asking the question or what the answer might be. In a weird way though, it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever heard.

Be still my heart, he’s down bad. 

“Oh, sweet boy. Without question.”

. . .

Josh has to be the handsiest person you’ve ever met. Not that you’re complaining. As you climb back into bed with him he executes no self-control and pulls you into his lap by your waist. If you’re being honest though, you’d let him manhandle you when and where he pleases. Especially now, when he seems unmotivated by sex and just holds you close, but still intimate since you’ve both opted out of pajamas for the night.

You’re absentmindedly wrapping his curly locks around your fingers in the comfortable stillness of his hotel room, surrounded by smoke from the joint he lit up, and listening to him tell you all about life on the road. A quick prompt of ‘what’s the next city on the roster?’ launched a rant that you have no plans on stopping. You really should be sleeping but to silence his perfect lips would be a crime.

Except for…

“Josh?” you accidentally interrupt at the arrival of an intrusive thought.

“Yes, sweetness?”

“When you said earlier that Im not part of the general population anymore, what did you mean?”

“I don’t know. I’m kind of… infatuated with you.”

Infatuated with me? Why?

He reads the puzzled look on your face and continues.

“The way you speak about things and carry yourself. I can tell you’re special. Not only that, but from the first time I saw you I was drawn to you. It’s almost like the universe brought you to my feet. Your face was all tear-stained and your eyes were puffy but you stopped and saw me, you really saw me. I thought ‘this girl is looking into my soul’. ” too stunned to speak, you stay silent and let him carry on. “Ever since then you’ve just kept on astounding me. So when I said that I guess it was me letting you know I want you around, I want you with me.”

Holy shit. What?

. . . . . . .

thank you for reading

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[tuiccim]

I Really Love Being Your Friend (Part 8)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus-Size Female Reader, Foggy Nelson x reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Mutual pining, idiots in love, angst, body insecurity, stalker. 

A/N: Thank you to my lovely beta reader, @whisperlullaby​​​​ . All mistakes are my own.

I Really Love Being Your Friend Masterlist

Ben closes the door behind him and you back away quickly. 

“Ben! What are you doing? Why have you been following me?” you ask with false bravado. 

“It's all going wrong. They found out about me.”

“What are you talking about?” 

“Daredevil found me. He found me and now he knows. Now they all know. I can’t let them take you. I can't lose you.”

Your blood runs cold, “Ben-”

“I love you. You showed up in that bar and it was like an angel had found me. I knew then that I had to stay close to you. To protect you. You are an angel but there is so much darkness around you and I have to keep you safe from it. Foggy just wants to sleep with you. Daredevil is dangerous. He gets people killed. The Winter Soldier is a killer. All that darkness is around you, Angelface. I can’t let it affect you. I love you. I need you,” Ben had cupped your face as he spoke and you fought the building terror that curled in your stomach. 

Thinking fast, you decide to reassure him, “Ben. Ben, look at me look at me. It's okay. They're my friends. They won't do anything to hurt me or… or you.”

“They'll keep me away from you. I can't let them take you away. Come on. We have to go,” Ben says emphatically. Standing, he holds a hand out to you. 

“Ben, it's okay. It's okay. It'll be fine,” you glance around desperately trying to figure out what you could do to calm him or escape him. You realize that he's had a break from reality and because of your kindness, has formed an obsession. Utilizing the knowledge you had gleaned, you attempt to reason with Ben, “Let's sit down and talk about this. It's going to be fine.”

“No! No, we can’t. We have to go. They'll take you away from me.”

You reach into the small of your back discreetly and wrap your hand around the gun Bucky had given you, “Ben, I’m not going anywhere. You need to stop.”

“We have to go,” Ben says, stepping towards you. 

“Ben, stop!” you say as you pull the gun and point it at him. Faster than you can react, he’s managed to twist the gun from your hands and turn it around on you. “Ben-” you gasp as he lifts a gun. You take deep breaths trying to discern the best way out of this situation. Raising your hands in a non-threatening manner you try again, “Ben, really it's okay. Nothing is going to happen to you. Let's sit and talk about this.”

“No! Let's go now. Now! Let's go,” Ben begins herding you towards your door and with a gun pointed at your back you decide the best course of action at this moment was to do as he says. You’ll try to drop some bread crumbs and pray that Bucky can find you. He'd never give up looking for you. Suddenly, you feel your back pocket move and realize that Ben's grabbed your cell phone out of it. You hear it hit the floor and then a boot slamming into it.

“You won't be needing that.”

You were hoping he wouldn't notice your phone. You knew Joaquin would be able to track it and find you. At least they would know by the smashed phone that something had happened. You were kicking yourself. You should have let Bucky stay but you didn’t think someone would actually be following you. 

Attempting to placate, you smile, “Of course. I'm sure you're going to take great care of me. Can I pack a few things? Please?”

“I have everything we’ll need. It’s all ready for us. Let's get to the car,” Ben says as he presses the gun into your back discreetly and holds your arm. 

“I just need to grab my glasses,” you insist and move towards your bedroom door. 

“No!” Ben grabs you and puts himself between you and the door. He puts the gun next to your face, “We have to go, Julie!”

“Ben,” you whisper, eyes-wide as terror floods your mind, “Ben, I’m not Julie. I’m-” 

“We don’t have time for this, Julie. We have to go,” he begins to push you towards the front door again. 

“Ben, wait, just a second. Listen to me-” your words are interrupted when you see your bedroom door move. When Ben goes to follow your line of vision, you grab his face, “Wait, I…” you lean into him and press your lips to his, trying to distract him. You see his eyes slip closed and his arms wrap around you. The door opens quietly behind him and Bucky slips into the room. His metal hand grabs the gun from Ben and you pull away from him quickly. 

Ben recovers from the momentary shock and turns to fight. He and Bucky tussle as you attempt to move out of the way in the small apartment but in the commotion you catch a stray elbow. You cry out and cover your right eye that pain radiates from. After a few moments, your front door splinters open as Sam breaks through with his shield. Joaquin follows him in and immediately covers you using his wings as a shield.

“You’re hurt,” Joaquin says as he maneuvers you into the kitchen. 

“I’m fine,”  you demure, despite the pain. “I’ll stay here. Go help them.”

“My job in this is to protect you. They can handle him.”

“How did this happen, Joaquin? I don’t understand,” you feel the tears begin as the sounds of the fight come from the other room. 

“I don’t know, but we’ve got you. We’re your friends and we’ll always protect you. And Bucky…”

“Bucky what?” you ask curiously. 

“Bucky really cares about you. Give him a chance,” Joaquin says gently. 

“Wha-”

“Doll! Joaquin! You okay?” Bucky calls.

Ben was a talented fighter and it had taken Sam and Bucky a few minutes to subdue him. As you rounded the corner you stopped, seeing that your apartment looked like a battle had taken place. You guess one had. Your front door was broken, your tv shattered, a lamp laid in a mangled heap, and general disarray any way you turned your head. Ben was in cuffs and Sam had him by the arm. 

“Your eye! You got hit? Get some ice, please, Joaquin,” Bucky directs.

“I’m fine. It’ll be fine,” you say, dodging Bucky’s hands. 

“It’s not fine. You’re gonna have a black eye,” Bucky says. 

“It’s my fault,” Ben says suddenly. 

You look at him for a long moment, “Ben, do you know who I am?” 

“You remind me so much of Julie,” Ben says, sadness filling his eyes. 

“But I’m not Julie,” you reiterate and you know he understands when he whispers your name. 

“Freeze! Hands in the air!” Two police officers enter your apartment and shock registers on their faces when they see Captain America, The Winter Soldier, and the Falcon.

The next hour and half is spent giving statements. You ask your friends to advocate for Ben to be taken for psychiatric care and they agree. You didn’t think Ben was necessarily a bad guy, just a sick one. You’re numb as you explain what happened and begin cleaning up the mess. Your super shows up  and expresses his displeasure at the mess. When he begins telling you that you’ve lost your security deposit over the front door, you just nod dumbly until Bucky steps in. He pulls the super away and has a conversation that you can’t hear. Honestly, you don’t want to, instead you start picking up pieces of the destroyed lamp. 

“Doll, you okay?” Bucky asks a few minutes later. 

“I’m fine,” you whisper, not looking at him. 

“Hey, leave that,” Bucky puts his hand over yours. 

“It has to be done,” you say, you feel like you’re in a dream. 

“We’ll take care of this. You’ve been through a lot tonight. Go pack a bag. You’re gonna stay with me until we can get your door fixed, okay?” Bucky says. 

“I can just get a hotel room or something, Buck,” you shake your head. 

“I’m not letting you out of my sight right now. Please, doll, for me?”

“For all of us,” Joaquin says. 

“It would be for the best. You shouldn’t be alone,” Sam states. 

“Okay, okay, fine,” you nod and go to your room. 

When Bucky comes to check on you ten minutes later, he finds you standing in the middle of the room with an empty bag on your bed, “Doll?”

“I, um, I’m sorry. I-”

“Doll, you’re in shock. Why don’t I help you?” Bucky holds your hand reassuringly. 

“O-okay.”

“Okay, so, Joaquin is gonna arrange for you to have a few days off. I’m going to stay with you. You’ll need some comfortable clothes…” Bucky rattles on as he pulls a few things from your closet, grabs your slippers, finds some sleep clothes, and a few more items. You snap out of it enough to get your toothbrush and a few other toiletries together. You grab your tablet and throw your charger in the bag even though you realize your phone is gone. Bucky pauses looking at you bashfully for a second, “Uh, doll, why don’t I give a few minutes for you to pack a few other things and I’ll wait in the living room.”

You are confused for a second but then heat rises in you, “Oh, gotcha. Yeah.” As soon as he leaves, you throw some underwear in the bag and zip the bag up. If you forgot anything, Bucky’s place is only ten minutes from here. You throw the bag over your shoulder and join the guys. Sam and Joaquin each hug you saying they’re glad you’re okay and they’d help you get everything sorted out in the apartment. They secure the front door to ensure that your things are safe and then you head your separate ways. 

At Bucky’s place, you’re unsure of what to do. You still feel like you’re in a fog. The past few weeks have been intense and tonight was an emotional roller coaster by itself. 

“Can I get you anything?” Bucky asks softly. 

“No. I think I just want to go to sleep,” you say. 

“Okay. Come on.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch. You’ve done enough for me tonight.”

“I’m not sleeping in the bed while you’re on the couch. You need comfort and sleep.”

You nod and go to his room. It takes all of your energy just to get ready for bed but when you lay down, sleep refuses to claim you. Instead the events of the last two days play over and over in your head and suddenly you start crying. Sobs wrack your body. You try to stay quiet but obviously fail when the door cracks open after a gentle knock. 

“Doll?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you sit up, quickly trying to compose yourself but your face crumples a second later and you cover it with your hands as you bawl. 

“Hey, you’re okay. It’s okay. It’s okay,” Bucky sits on the edge of the bed. You lean into him, pressing your face to his shoulder as the crying jag takes over completely. He holds you through it, rubbing your back, whispering reassurances, and making you feel safe. When you finally exhaust your tear ducts, you pull away and Bucky wipes the tears off your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry. I just…” your voice breaks. 

“You don’t have to explain. I understand.”

“Buck…” you pause. 

“Do you want me to stay, doll?” He asks sweetly, as if he knows it's exactly what you need. 

“Please,” you whisper. 

“Of course. I won’t leave you. Not until you’re ready.”

“Thank you, Bucky.”

“Things will look better in the morning,” Bucky says, stroking your face. 

“I probably won’t. Pretty sure you were right about this black eye,” you quip sadly. 

“Now I know you’ll be fine. You’re making jokes already. And you’ll still be beautiful, with or without the shiner,” Bucky gives you that beautiful smile. 

Your breath catches for a moment with the way he looks at you. It was in these moments that your heart felt some modicum of hope. God, you loved him and your heart clenched, wishing so many things but mostly that he could love you. You look back at him and, with all of your inner reserves gone, you feel the words forming to ask if he could ever feel the same about you. It was on the tip of your tongue when he spoke again, “Try to get some sleep. We can talk more in the morning when we’ve both rested up.”

“Good night, Bucky,” you whisper instead. 

“Night, doll. Sleep. I’m right here.”

You were exhausted and managed to drift off a few times but you would startle awake a few minutes later. Eventually, Bucky pulled you into his arms and you were finally able to rest. You woke the next morning with a purring white ball of fluff tucked under your chin. You could hear Bucky clanking around in the kitchen and it made you smile. In this moment, nothing existed outside of this little bubble of comfort and then it burst. Memories flooded in and your mind became a jumble again.  

Bucky walked in a few seconds later with a cup of coffee and a plate of food for you. You gave a small smile as he set it in front of you. 

“Breakfast in bed?” You look at the beautiful man in front of you and think what you would give to have this be every day of your life. To have that soft look given to you everyday. You were so confused by everything that had happened. 

"This is really sweet of you. Thank you."

"You could use some pampering," he assured you. His hand brushed over your cheek just below the bruise on your eye and the tender look in his eyes nearly broke you.  

Pulling away, you say, "You should get yourself some food, too."

Bucky nodded and went to get his breakfast before rejoining you. The rest of the day went much the same. Bucky waited on you hand and foot, going so far as to warm your towel while you were in the shower. He made you laugh and feel comfortable, gave you space, and allowed you to veg out  on his couch. It was exactly what you needed. You fell asleep on his shoulder while watching movies that afternoon and you only vaguely registered being carried and then laid in the bed. A sensation you hadn't felt since early childhood. When you woke a little later, you were dumbfounded that he managed to carry you. You wandered back to the living room looking for him. 

"Hey. I was just about to order pizza. Is that okay?" Bucky asks as he sees you. 

"Sounds great. Sorry I fell asleep. D-did you carry me to the bed?" Maybe you had dreamed it. You probably walked and he just helped you. 

"Yeah, doll. You were out cold. I thought it'd be more comfortable."

You laugh in a self-deprecating manner, "How bad did you strain your back doing that?"

"Not at all. I could carry two of you, twice as far," Bucky winks. 

"Right. Supersoldier strength," you nod. 

Together, you sat to watch a show and eat pizza once it arrived. A little later, you're sitting across from him eating the bowl of ice cream he put in your hands. Bucky was sitting in the spot he had laid you when that forbidden kiss happened. You drag the spoon through the treat while trying to get through the mess in your head. Looking up at Bucky a second later, the question in his eyes is clear. Sighing, you say, "How did you get into my apartment last night?"

"I unlocked your bedroom window when I was securing things. Did you really think I was going to actually leave you alone when you had a stalker?"

"I'm so confused about that still."

"He was mentally ill, Doll. It was-"

"That's- that's not what confuses me so much. I mean, being held at gunpoint by an unstable human being is scary but I think Ben is the easiest thing to understand in all this. He's in a dark place and I showed him kindness. He latched onto it. There's also a huge part of me that feels incredibly stupid that I chalked up our chance meetings to coincidence but I'm just not the type of woman this stuff happends to. I'm not a celebrity or beauty queen. I'm not anything special, ya know?"

"No, I don't. You are special," Bucky says earnestly. 

It makes your heart ache and tears sting your eyes before you blink them back. 

"Thank you for saying that but-"

"I mean it, doll. You're very special to me. To all of us."

You smile in a melancholy way and Joaquin's words from the night before echo through your head. 

"Bucky, I... Joaquin said something yesterday... I-" you shake your head at the stupidity of the confession you almost make. "Nevermind. Sorry."

"No, go ahead. It's okay," Bucky looks at you expectantly, an air of hope surrounding him. "What did Joaquin say?"

"Just that you cared and you would always protect me."

"He's right about that," Bucky's smile fades into a cagey look and your stomach drops when he speaks again. "And since you brought up last night... the comment you made?"

"What comment?" you ask in desperate hope that he means anything but what you think he's getting at. 

"About all anyone wants lately is to get into your pants?" Bucky raises his eyebrows questioningly. 

"Nothing. It was just a stupid comment. I'm sorry."

"Do you think I kissed you just to get you in bed?" Bucky asks. 

"No, yes... I don't - I don't know. I just figured I was a convenience. Like you said, you don't have time to date. I'm a convenient option for... ya know and I just..." you trail off with a shrug. 

"You just?"

"I really love being your friend, Bucky, and I know, I know that if we slept together I'd fall even more in love with you. And I thought about it, I did, I thought about just taking that leap and being that girl for you but I just can't. It would eat away at me and then I'd be shattered when you finally did find someone you actually want to be with. You're such a good guy and I don't want to ruin our friendship for some... probably really great sex but if we did that I'd want more and I know I'm not good enough for you. I'm just that fat girl you work with who would be an easy fuck and then it would become awkward and I'd lose you. I'd lose my friendship with all of you and I can't do that." You squeeze your eyes shut, horrified with the confession that had just come out of your mouth. You said too much. You always do. 

"You'd fall even more in love with me?" Bucky asks, a smile spreading across his face that you can't see. 

"I'm sorry," you cover your face with your hands as tears leak from your eyes. 

"Doll, look at me," Bucky's fingers are under your chin, helping to lift your face to his. "I love you."

"I know. Because I'm your best friend."

"No."

"I'm not your best friend?"

"I love you because you are my best friend. But I'm also in love with you and have been for a long time. Practically the first moment I met you. I kissed you that night, not because it was easy or convenient or because I was just horny. You are the person I want to be with. I kissed you because I adore you but before I could tell you that you were out the door saying you just wanted to be friends. So, I resolved for us to just be friends. Then our misunderstanding happened-"

"I'm so sorry about-"

"Shhh. That happened, then you were going on a date with this new guy and I didn't want to stand in the way of your happiness."

"And now?" you ask.

"Now, I'm telling you what I should have said that night before I ever kissed you. I love you. I want to be with you. You're everything to me. Please, doll, please say you'll be mine."

"I'll be yours. I love you, too, Bucky," you pause for a moment, all the doubts and fears pounding in your head, "Are you sure? Are you sure you want me?"

"More than anything. More than anything, doll. And I don't ever want to hear you say you aren't good enough for me again. If anything, it's the other way around. I love you. All of you," Bucky tips your face up and his lips claim yours. Your heart soars as he kisses you with more gentleness than you thought possible. 

You smile cheekily as he pulls away, "What do you say we go test my theory?"

Confused, he asks, "Your theory?" 

"That we'd have really great sex."

He laughs at your grin and kisses you again, "I say that hypothesis needs thorough experimentation."

You laugh together as he helps you to stand. A second later you gasp when he sweeps you off your feet and carries you down the hall. This wasn't what you thought would happen. After all, fat girls don't get happily ever after, right? Well, fuck that. 

Epilogue

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[takes1]

bakugou being terrified about his new crush on you

imagine: bakugou has deep-seeded intimacy issues and has trouble expressing himself wow who'dathunk askjdfha

**song inspo: f*ck somebody (even tho ik the guy is actually trying to break up with his partner, i heard it as if he hated having a crush on someone ?? the first time so <3)

warnings. none!

details. gn!reader / christmas cookies / fluff / 700 words

🤍 new imagine series. more bakugou here.

more links. my ao3 / bakugou headcanons / requests open!!

"Oh," Aizawa mumbled, suddenly remembering to mention this on the return back to the building from training, "(L/n) baked cookies for the class. They're on my desk, help yourselves."

A collective, exhausted cheer, for the single most unifying form of love was food-- specifically baked goods. They were tired, hungry, and now thankful that they had something to look forward to when they arrived back at the classroom.

Sharp eyes carefully scanned those that gave you their thanks, pats, and conversation.

Of course you baked cookies. Bakugou may have been the only student to not even crack a smile at the mention of sweets, despite his stomach turning inside out at the sound of your name. His own restraint was the one thing keeping him sane for this roadblock of a viral disease people often liked to call: A Crush.

He'd rather be bedridden, deathly ill for weeks with a stomach bug than have to tolerate another sickening swarm of butterflies in his belly and act like nothing bothered him.

Your sugary voice carried as you explained to Mina, "It's like a warm-up Christmas present for everyone. You'll see!"

A warm-up? That had to mean you got everyone a real, individual gift. For a brief moment, his heart began to squeeze as his mind wandered to consider what you may have gotten him.

He tightened his fist around his glove like a vice. You were pissing him off. It'd be a cold day in Hell before he ever ate your cookies or accepted your gifts.

The rest of the class, unrestricted with the freedom of not being suffocated under a big fat crush, swarmed Aizawa's desk like a pile of ants on a crumb to gawk and grab at the cookies. It was too loud. The classroom filled with laughter and delighted yelling, as each student discovered features on the cookies Bakugou couldn't be convinced to pay attention to, lest he get invested.

He assumed he was safe as he started to walk off to go change while nobody was looking.

"Bakugou!" A boyish, scratchy voice called.

It cast attention, but most importantly, your attention, to his premature departure. Kirishima obviously knew about his crush but was too much of a gentleman to tell anyone, including the blond himself. His support manifested in subtle ways to get him around you more often, but unfortunately, it only led to more angry outbursts than usual.

He took a bite out of one with red icing and pointy teeth and held up Bakugou's tiny counterpart, "You should check these out! (Y/n) decorated them to look like us!"

"Don't talk with your mouth full!" He automatically retorted.

The three of you knew he would not engage with your cooking on his own accord. He went to step out of the room again, but to his paralyzing panic, you grabbed the cookie from Kirishima's outstretched hand and jogged it over to Bakugou at the doorway, so that it didn't go to waste.

The harsh, twisted face he made to hide how nervous he was at your proximity was difficult to maintain. His brow twitched with effort as he cast his gaze down to the cookie in your hands.

A little Bakugou, clad in the winter Hero costume he currently had on, with little yellow-and-orange-icing explosions at his hands, glared back up at him with an identically rabid expression.

Rings of, "Mine's strawberry!" "Mine's chocolate!" and praises of their respective flavors carried on in the background by thrilled classmates.

It was the cutest damn cookie he'd ever seen.

His ugly face started to break into something much softer, he felt his ears grow hot, his eyes watering just a bit, and did the only thing he could think to do on such short notice.

Bakugou snatched the treat from your hand and, in one exaggerated motion, shoveled the entire thing into his mouth with an unbroken stare. That would be sure to show you and your nauseating kindness.

Cheeks full with the embodiment of his feelings, he wasted no time securing his exit and stomped back down the hall to the locker rooms in order to finally escape you.

[theowritesstuff]

Hot Chocolate and Blueberry Muffins

TASM!Peter Parker x gn!reader

MAJOR NWH SPOILERS!!!!!

Summary: Peter has built a brick wall around himself, will he finally let you in?

Part 2: Never Letting You Go

Andrew: Peter

Tom: Young Peter

Tobey: Older Peter

You had known Peter for a long time. The two of you went to the same high school. You never really interacted then, but you would occasionally share a class with him, and see him skate down the hallway, just to be stopped by a teacher threatening to take his skateboard away.

You saw him fall in love with Gwen Stacy. They were a cute couple. The complimented each other well. You saw what had become of him after her passing. He seemed different. But of course, that was to be expected after the person you love dies.

The two of you never really interacted with each other until college. Much like in high school, you shared a couple of classes. You were assigned as each other’s lab partners in your Chemistry class. You cheered to yourself in your head. Peter was one of the brightest science students at Midtown, so surely this class would be a piece of cake with him by your side.

This caused the two of you to interact with each other more. He was nice, but he seemed a little off-putting. As if he was only nice because he had to be. It gave you the feeling that he didn’t actually want to be friends with you.

You know that surely you didn’t do anything wrong, you didn’t even really know the guy all that well. So one day, on the way to class, you decided a peace offering might be a good way to start to break down his walls.

You walked into class that day with two cups of coffee, and a small brown paper bag. You smiled to him as you sat down.

“Is today an extra-caffeine kind of day?” He asked with an eyebrow raised.

“No.” You said as you took your seat next to him. You placed one of the cups in front of him along with the brown paper bag.

“What is this?” He looked confused.

“It’s coffee and a muffin.” You tell him.

He picks up the cup, and raises it to his lips. You look at him expectantly, waiting for his reaction. He pulls away from the cup after taking a sip. His face scrunches up as he puts the cup down and reaches for the bag.

“What? It’s not good?” You ask.

He pulls the muffin out of the bag and takes a bite. “It’s really bitter. Good muffin though.” He says as a bit of crumbs fall to the corner of his mouth.

From that day on you had continuously brought Peter a different coffee every day. You were bound and determined to find his perfect cup. This coffee experiment did make him open up more to you. Conversation flowed smoother than it had before. The two of you would leave class together before parting ways for your next classes.

Everyday he would see you walk in with a new cup of coffee, and the same, reliable, blueberry muffin. And everyday it made him smile a little more.

“You know, one day, I’m gonna bring you coffee and a muffin.” He tells you.

You laugh “Yeah, sure.”

The coffee experiment had lasted longer than you thought it would. It had gotten to the point where you had already tried every possible flavor coffee Starbucks had to offer, so now you would just order him a black coffee, and add some sugar and cream yourself.

As you were getting closer to winter break, you decided that the experiment was just inconclusive. That Peter needed his coffee made in an extremely specific way, that you would never figure out.

“Okay, what if I take you to get coffee, and I get my perfect cup, so you can try it?” He asked one day, most likely tired of the endless stream of coffee you gave him.

You agreed, and he took you to a near empty coffee shop.

“Go sit, I’ll order.” He told you. He wanted his perfect cup to be a surprise.

He came back a few minutes later with two cups and a blueberry muffin. He handed you one of the cups and looked at you with his eyebrows raised.

You raised the cup to your lips to take a sip. You furrowed your eyebrows.

“What do you think?” He asked.

“It’s really sweet.” You take another sip before realization hits you. “Is this just hot chocolate?” You ask a little too loud.

The person working at the counter sends you a weird look. Peter can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, my perfect cup is a cup of hot chocolate.” He takes a sip from his own cup, still keeping eye contact with you.

You kick his shin under the table. “How dare you not tell me that your perfect cup of coffee isn’t even coffee!” You whisper shout.

Ever since that day, hot chocolate and blueberry muffins had become a special thing between you. Hot chocolate and blueberry muffins had become the go to when one of you wasn’t feeling well emotionally. When either of you celebrated something, like good scores on the latest test, you would go to the coffee shop and get your new favorite drinks and snack.

As you became closer Peter had begun to worry about his other hobby. That one day you would find out he was Spiderman and would get dragged into his mess just like Gwen had been. You were the only person, other than May, who he was close to since Gwen passed, and he swore to himself that he would keep you completely separated from that part of his life.

You had started to wonder though, where did Peter disappear to when he left so suddenly? At first it seemed normal enough. He’d say something along the lines of “Aunt May needs me to pick up eggs from the store.”, you’d exchange your goodbyes, then he’d leave. But it happened pretty frequently, and Aunt May couldn’t possibly need to see her nephew that often.

One night, after a particularly bad run-in with a group of robbers, Peter felt more exhausted than he had in a long time. There were five of them and only one of him. Why robbers decided that a group of five was needed, he didn’t know. At first it seemed like an easy take-down. He’d stop them, web them to the wall, then go on his way. What he didn’t see coming was a web-block in one of his web shooters.

The men had caught him, and were throwing punches at him like crazy. He was able to knock one back and use the web shooter that was working on him. He was slowly able to get them one at a time. By the end of the fight he was covered in bruises, and could feel the blood dripping from his nose, and taste metal in his mouth.

He meant to swing back to his apartment, but instead found himself at your door. It was basically second nature for him to seek you out when he wasn’t feeling well. You’d bring him inside, usher him to your couch, put a pile of blankets on top of him, and cook him some soup.

He looked down, just to check that he’d remembered to change out of his suit, and raised his hand to knock on your door.

You woke up to the knocking. You rubbed your eyes as you got out of bed, and walked over to your door. You opened it to see Peter standing there, sporting a black eye, a bloody nose, and a busted lip. He gave you his signature awkward smile.

“Peter! What the hell happened?” You pulled him inside and onto your couch.

“I’m fine, really.” He said.

“No. No you’re not. I’m going to get my first aid kit, don’t move.”

He sat, patiently waiting for you to come back. When you did he noticed that you were wearing sweatpants and an old t-shirt.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up.” He said quietly, watching as your hands quickly opened the first aid kit.

“I was awake.” You lied. “What happened?”

Peter honestly hadn’t thought about what he would say when you asked him that. “I was mugged.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Oh my god, did you call the police?” You ask as you dab around his mouth with a tissue.

“I didn’t get a good look at the guy.”

You sigh. The room is quiet as you finish with his face. You’d given him a bag of frozen peas to hold against his eye.

You can’t look away from him. It hurts to see him broken and banged up.

“You’re staring.” He says.

You scoot closer to him on the couch. “Let me see.” You take the bag of peas from his hand. He’s facing you, but avoiding eye contact, preferring the ceiling to your eyes.

You lift your hand to his cheek, you thumb brushing just under his eye. “It’ll definitely bruise, but you should be fine.”

“Thank you.” He says, finally meeting your eyes. He’s not just thanking you for tonight, he’s thanking you for being there for him every time you have.

“Of course. You can always come to me. Always.” You trail off.

His eyes glance down to your lips. You start to lean forward. Your noses brush against each other, before Peter turns his head away abruptly.

“I should go.” He says, quickly standing up and grabbing his backpack from the floor.

“Oh- okay.” You say, now flustered.

There’s an obvious awkward tension between the two of you now. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you.” You said quickly.

“It’s fine.” He clears his throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asks when he gets to your door.

“Y- yeah.” You say, hoping to end this conversation as soon as possible.

With that he rushes out of your apartment to go back to his.

Encounters between the two of you had been a little awkward since then. There were less hot chocolate and muffin trips, and you really only talked at school.

You had taken over a better part of his brain. He knew that he was going to kiss you that night. He waned to, and he absolutely would have, if it wasn’t for Spiderman. He couldn’t fathom the thought of you going through what Gwen had, or of his heart breaking just like before.

He was thinking about you when he was pulled into a different New York. He spent some time walking around, trying to figure out what had happened when he came across where your coffee shop should’ve been. Well, a coffee shop was there, but it looked themed to the 50’s? More like a diner than the cozy little shop the two of you would sit in.

He swung up to the roof of the building to get a better look at the city. The lights looked somewhat brighter here than they did back home.

He turned when he heard someone shouting his name. There was a glowing gold portal, on the other side stood two teenagers.

“Peter! Peter!” They shouted to him, using their arms to wave him over. He walked to them and hopped in the portal before it shut behind him. He pulled his mask off and the two of them interrogated him, well, mostly the girl, urging him to prove that he was Peter Parker.

After having bread rolls thrown at him and being used to clean the ceiling, another portal opened. This one revealed an older man, who also claimed to be Peter Parker.

After becoming acquainted with the older Peter and the two teens, Ned and MJ, the group went to go find that universe’s Peter.

When Peter had found out that young Peter’s May had died he felt his heart break. He tried to tell him about Gwen, but young Peter didn’t want to hear about her.

Peter understood. If someone had tried to compare what he went through with Gwen moments after she’d passed, he wouldn’t have wanted to hear it either.

The group made a plan to help save those who had traveled from the other universes before traveling back to their own. Peter felt a little at home in the Midtown lab. He felt like he was back in Chemistry class with you.

He looked up from his mixture of chemicals to see young Peter and MJ sharing a moment together. Their foreheads were resting against each other and they both had their eyes closed. They looked content with each other’s presence.

“You got anyone?” The older Peter asked.

Peter’s mind flashed back to that night with you. He shook his head. “No. I don’t really have time for Peter stuff.” He said. “What about you?”

The older Peter smiled. “Yeah, a wife, and a daughter.”

Peter smiled at him. He was happy that at least two of them were happy.

Once they had all finished with their cures, the group made their way to the Statue of Liberty. This statue wasn’t holding a flame, instead a circular shield with a star in the middle.

The Peters had a few issues at the beginning when it came to sending out the cures, but were able to work together to get most of them out.

Peter turned to see Ned and MJ still on the scaffolding. Why were they still here? They were meant to hop through a portal, then Ned was supposed to close it. The Green Goblin was flying around, throwing bombs left and right.

One of his bombs landed near the two teens, and destroyed the scaffolding around them. Ned was able to grab a hold of a pipe and steady himself, but MJ Couldn’t grab it in time.

Peter saw her fall, and it felt like everything was happening in slow motion. It was like he was back there, that night. Like Gwen was falling all over again.

Young Peter had jumped to catch her the moment he saw her fall. He would catch her. He had to. He was so close, their fingertips brushed against each other, when the Green Goblin rode by and pushed young Peter away.

“No!” Peter shouted as he threw himself off the scaffolding. He reached out for MJ, not using his webs this time, and wrapped her in his arms as they fell. He landed on his feet holding her bridal style.

MJ looked extremely shaken up.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked her.

“Yeah.” She nodded. She took a good look at him. He looked sad, but relieved. “Are you?” She asked.

He had tears building up in his eyes. “Yeah.” He replied. He put her down and told her to find somewhere safe to get away from the fighting.

The fight didn’t last much longer. Young Peter was nearly close to killing Norman Osborn by the end, but older Peter stopped him.

When the wizard appeared again, he said he could send Peter and older Peter back to their own universes, he would just have to fix this one first.

MJ pulled Peter aside. “Thank you. For saving me.” She said.

Peter nodded. “You’re welcome. You guys shouldn’t have to go through what happened to me.” He said sadly.

Peter turned to walk away, but MJ spoke again. “Um, Gwen? I think she’d want you to be happy. At least, I know that’s what I’d want for my Peter.” She says, giving him a small smile.

Young Peter swung back down to talk to Peter and older Peter, he said that he was happy he got to meet the two of them. Peter said the other two were like the brothers he’d always wanted.

Young Peter said the he needed to go talk to MJ and Ned because the wizard was going to cast a spell that would make fix everything in this dimension, but would make everyone forget who he was.

It’s not long after young Peter leaves that Peter starts to feel fuzzy, and is pulled back into his own dimension.

He can’t believe he’s home again. He puts his mask back on and rushes to your apartment. After seeing the other two Peters, and his short conversation with MJ, Peter decided that maybe he should allow himself to be happy.

He was going to go to your apartment, confess his feelings, and tell you his big secret. He made sure to make a pit stop at your coffee shop for a hot chocolate and a blueberry muffin to bring you.

He wondered how long it had been since you’d seen him. Sure, he was only in the other dimension for about a day, but did time move differently here than it did there?

On the way to your apartment, he stopped at a tourist cart, full of I Love NY t-shirts and souvenirs, to purchase a shirt and some sweatpants so he could change out of his suit. Sure he was going to tell you he was Spiderman, but he didn’t need to show up at your door in the full getup.

When he reached your door, he couldn’t keep the grin off his face. He knocked three times and waited for you to answer.

It took a minute, but soon enough you opened the door. “Hi.” You said.

“Hey Y/N! Listen, I don’t know how long it’s been, but I’m sorry, and hey, I brought you a welcome back gift. Well, I guess I’m saying welcome back to myself? It’s a long story.” He rambles.

You lean against your door, and awkwardly laugh “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

[igotanidea]

Upcoming

So, the tags are not working. Again :P

Therefore, here's a list of what I'm planning on publishing next month:

Counterparts : chapter 11 - Hell is a place you believe in.

The Raven's daughter: part 10: Crumbs of information

Kupala Night: Morpheus x slav!reader

Gritty: Sweetbitter!Jake x f!reader : chapter 5: Breaking dishes.

25th hour : tasm!peter parker x f!reader

Not enough: Daredevil x f!reader x Winter Soldier

Hello Devil: Daredevil x f!reader

Shadow: Marvel OC chapter 1 Blackout

Coping Mechanism : five hargreeves x f!reader

[vulpes-fennec]

Once Upon a Dream 🧵

Summary: This time, the girl saves the prince. For Feysand month 2022’s Fairy Tale AU.

Read: AO3

***Prologue***

Massive flames erupted in the banquet hall, sending courtiers screaming and running. King Beron Vanserra emerged from the blaze, cruelty etched in his dark brown eyes. King Cormac leapt to his feet, darkness curling at the edges of the hall. 

“Get out,” his voice thundered. At his side, Queen Orla fearfully clutched her newborn son, Rhysand. 

“It looks like my invitation got lost in the mail,” Beron sniffed. He gazed imperiously at the other Kings sitting at the high table: Tamlin of Spring, Tarquin of Summer, Kallias of Winter, Thesan of Dawn, and Helion of Day. 

“You are not welcome here. Get. Out,” King Cormac repeated. The audience held its breath anxiously. Any wrong move could lead to an all out war with the Autumn Kingdom.

Beron did not move. “Relax, Your Majesty. I only wish to bestow a gift upon your firstborn.” He smiled slyly. “Listen well, all of you. The prince shall flourish in his youth as one of the most powerful princes to grace the land. But, before the sun sets on his eighteenth birthday, he shall prick his finger on a spinning wheel and fall into a deathless sleep.” 

Cries of terror and dismay arose from the room. Queen Orla was a renowned tapestry artist and seamstress; it was simply cruel for her lifelong passion to harm her beloved son.

“You bastard,” the King snarled. The power of Night slammed into Beron and misted the very stones he stood on—moments too late. Beron had teleported away with his fiery portal, his cruel laughter echoing off the walls.

Queen Orla sobbed quietly. “It’s no use. The curse has been placed.” 

King Helion arose from his seat. “Not so fast, Your Majesties,” he said. “I may be able to help.”

Queen Orla turned toward her husband, who inclined his head. “Please,” she sobbed. “Help my son. Anything you can.” 

Helion’s face softened as he approached the royal family. He knelt before the newborn prince, allowing golden light to pool in his hand. 

“Should this curse befall Prince Rhysand, a kiss from his mate shall allow him to wake.” Helion stood up, the golden spell trickling onto baby Rhysand from his hands. He offered the King and Queen of Night a sad smile. “I’m sorry I could not do more. Few things exist strong enough to break such curses.” 

The King and Queen thanked him profusely for his assistance anyways. “We will find his mate,” King Cormac vowed to his wife. “I will not let Beron take our son away from us.” Prince Rhysand, with his inky black hair and violet eyes of starlight, cooed playfully in his mother’s arms, blissfully unaware of his fate.

***15 years later***

Feyre Archeron was just about to bite into her bread when she heard the telltale snap-whoosh sound of something getting caught in her trap. 

Finally…we will have something meaty for dinner tonight, she excitedly thought. Her mouth watered at the thought of the juicy rabbit—or perhaps even deer—stew Elain would prepare. 

But it was a young boy hanging upside down, not a deer or rabbit. Feyre sighed with disappointment. Of course one of the bumbling Illyrian trainees got caught in her trap. His clumsiness meant she would have to reset everything and spend more hours waiting for the next unsuspecting animal. 

“Help! Help!” The boy was thrashing wildly. He waved his hands at Feyre when he spied her standing a few feet away. “I’m stuck!” 

Feyre sighed again as she climbed the tree, carefully undoing the knots and mechanisms. Although slicing the rope would be easier, her family didn’t have the funds to buy additional supplies for the rest of the month. These days, every little scrap and crumb needed to be rationed. Winter was coming, after all. 

She released the rope without remorse, dropping the Illyrian trainee to the ground without warning. He yelped loudly. Feyre leapt down from the branch, ready to scold the boy for messing up her hard work.

But words died in her throat, for he was the most beautiful boy she had ever seen. His short, inky black hair curled slightly around his ears; his skin a tanned brown; and his eyes an ethereal shade of blue. Almost like they were purple. 

He seemed strangely familiar, but Feyre was certain she had never met this boy before. Perhaps she’d seen him in a dream. 

The boy was meticulously picking dried grass off his black training leathers. He looked at her, looked at the ropes in her hand, then looked at her again. “You laid that trap?” he asked incredulously. 

Feyre bristled, drawing herself up to her full height. The Illyrian trainee was slightly shorter than her, making it easy to stare him down. “And what if I did?” she challenged. 

Plenty of village boys underestimated her hunting skills, and this boy seemed no different than the others. If she’d brought home something large and juicy today, that would have shut the buffoons up. But alas, she’d only ensnared a pretty boy.  

He took a step back, put off by her aggressive tone. “I meant that in a good way,” he conceded smoothly.  

“Oh.” Feyre shrugged and began setting her trap again. The boy watched her carefully with his violet eyes, fascinated. 

“Do I know you?” he asked, after several moments of silence. “You seem like someone I met before.”

“I don’t think so,” Feyre replied. “I’m from the village and I’ve rarely interacted with the warriors.”

“What’s your name, miss?” he asked curiously. “My name is Rhysand. I’m one of the Illyrian trainees.” 

“I can tell.” Feyre jumped back down from the tree, the trap now carefully concealed by a pile of leaves. “My name is Feyre.” 

“Feyre.” Rhysand repeated her name like he was savoring something sweet. “It’s nice to meet you.” He glanced towards the bow and quiver of arrows strapped to her back. “Do you hunt in the Illyrian forests regularly?” 

“Yes. To provide for my family.” Feyre waited for him to lecture her for wandering alone in the dangerous forests, to say that girls shouldn’t be hunting, blah, blah, blah. 

But Rhysand only nodded and said, “I guess you were hoping for a deer, but you found me instead.” His innocent smile melted Feyre’s cautious exterior, and she returned it. 

“Want to give me something in return?” she asked. 

To her surprise, Rhysand pulled out a black Illyrian blade without hesitation. “How about a new dagger?” he asked. Feyre’s jaw nearly dropped. Illyrian daggers were strong, versatile, and highly valued. The one he was holding looked expensive. Like more than a few month’s worth of wages. Rhysand must’ve seen the hesitation on her face, for he quickly added, “I can get a new one easily, don’t worry.”

Feyre’s fingers brushed his as she took it from him. She marveled at the blade’s weight and balance, the sturdiness of the hilt. A fine weapon indeed. Too valuable to be sold at the market. “Consider us friends, then,” she announced, tucking the sheathed blade into her belt. 

“Friends…I don’t have many of those.”

Feyre shrugged. “It’s okay. Me too.”

Rhysand smiled again, a carefree one that made Feyre’s heart flutter. “I have to get back to the war camp now. But will I see you tomorrow? Same spot?” he asked hopefully.

“Yes,” Feyre readily agreed. Rhysand lifted his hand in with a wave as he walked backwards, still smiling at her. The starlight in his pretty eyes was hypnotizing. 

Snap-whoosh! The magical moment was broken as Rhysand let out a strangled screech and swung into the air. His ankle was caught in the noose—again. “Rhysand!” Feyre shrieked in frustration, running over to untie him from her trap.

***3 years later***

“Happy eighteenth birthday!” Feyre sang as she gave her friend a bear hug. Rhysand—no, Rhys, as he’d requested her to call him shortly after they became friends—was a solid wall of heat and citrus scent on a misty morning. 

Rhys was a man now, taller and brawnier, with broad shoulders and strong arms. She couldn’t believe he was ever shorter than her, for she now had to crane her neck to even look him in the eye. Feyre had even caught a peek of his muscled abdomen on more than one occasion when they swam in the forest springs…it took all her self-control to limit her peeks to only a couple every few minutes. 

Feyre herself had stayed the same height, though her curves had filled out more. She wondered if Rhys ever noticed her physical changes the same way she noticed his. 

Rhys saw her at least once, if not twice, a week since their fateful encounter. They ran wild through the forest, swimming in springs, foraging for berries, and teaching each other how to fight and hunt. Those activities were fun, but what Feyre loved most was simply sitting and talking to Rhys.

He told her about Windhaven and his monthly visits to their capital city of Velaris. From his wealth and general demeanor, Rhys was clearly from some line of nobility, though he was always vague about his family name. 

Feyre confided in Rhys about her love for painting (he’d promptly bought her art supplies every birthday), her father’s poor health, and her sisters’ unhelpful attitudes around the house. 

Feyre loved how, unlike the other boys in town, Rhys did not balk at her getting hands bloody after a successful hunt. Probably because he also possessed a vicious streak. When Rhys allowed her to visit him at the war camps, she would watch him win bloody fight after bloody fight with unmatched skill. She also took an immediate liking to his two friends, loudmouthed Cassian and deadly silent Azriel, both rising warriors who also accepted her as she was. 

Feyre handed Rhys his gift wrapped in burlap cloth. His violet eyes brimmed with emotion as he regarded the miniature portrait of them cloud gazing.

“Thank you,” he murmured, unexpectedly pressing a soft kiss to Feyre’s forehead. “This is beautiful.” Feyre blushed in the morning light. Lately, it was getting harder to act naturally around Rhys, to pretend she didn’t have emotions stronger than simple friendship. 

“I’m glad you like it,” she beamed. “Come, I prepared a breakfast picnic for you!” 

Rhys would be returning to Velaris for the rest of the day, to celebrate his birthday with his family. Feyre had constantly begged him to show her around the city, but he always made excuses. He clearly didn’t make exceptions, not even for the occasion of his eighteenth birthday. 

Whatever, Feyre pushed her bruised feelings away. Rhys is here right now, and I should be thankful we are spending the morning together. 

***🧵***🧵***🧵***🧵***🧵***🧵***🧵***🧵***🧵***🧵***🧵***

Read: Ch. 2

Notes: So I kinda (heavily) leaned on a crutch because this is my first Feysand fic. But I promise I have more original works planned for the rest of the month! Thank you for reading!

Tags: @the-lonelybarricade @feysand-month

[away-ward]

Hell Yeah

Thoughts got away from me. As a result, here is a willemmy snippet/short fic. It takes place in the spring of Chapter 42, during that time jump.

I can't write anything like Penelope Douglas, and I know I can't nail these characters perfectly, so I feel a little embarrassed putting this out. I most I hope for is that you appreciate the fun of it.

Sorry for any mistakes, and thank you for reading.

Will

The rowdy sounds of laughter fill the large kitchen as everyone gathered once again at St. Killian’s. Mads and Ivars tumble around underfoot while we kick back. Everyone's here, and there isn’t even a good reason. We just naturally gravitate towards our old haunt turned home.

It feels good. Normal, even. These are my people, my family, and for once nothing's wrong. A peace I haven’t felt in years, and at one point thought I’d never have again. It hollers in my chest with each beat of my heart. There's only one thing that beats it…

I smile.

I don’t think the Fanes would be down to let me and Emmy sneak down to the catacombs for a little old-fashioned fun. Not while everyone is here, at least.

Not that we need to ask. Necessarily.

My eyes find Em automatically. She sits at the island, sandwiched between Alex and Rika, her hand supporting her chin as she watches the rapid, easy flowing conversation happening around her with a soft smile. My chest expands at the sight, loving that she’s there, in the middle and not in the corner away from everyone. It took forever to coax her out of those corners.

She’s still quiet though, and sometimes I still can’t tell if that’s her natural pace or if she’s nervous around us. She damn well never gives me a break, always busting me for something.

I love it.

Damon says leave her alone; she’ll speak when she wants to. Not everyone has to say everything that comes to mind like me.

But god, I love hearing her voice. And my heart stops at the sound of her laughter.

“…like that time you left me alone with Anderson five minutes too long,” Rika accuses, blue eyes narrowed at Michael but with none of the venom in her voice.

The guys and I all meet each other’s eyes as we simultaneously recall what happened after we pushed her out of that bathroom. We grin ruefully.

“Anderson?” Emory asks, glancing between Rika and the rest of us at the island. She hasn’t heard this story before and I know why.

It was the last normal night.

My eyes fall, teeth gritting against everything that follows.

She returns to Rika. “He bothered you?”

Rika rolls her eyes, lifting the glass she’s drinking from. “He bothered everyone.”

“And where is he now?” Michael rumbles. His seat is angled toward Rika but still open to everyone. Something passes between them, a shared secret in their own language.

Rika hides a smirk behind her glass.

“Exactly,” Michael finishes, sipping from his own bottle.

I chuckle to myself. The bottom of a river, that's where. It's will he'll stay if I have my way. I share a look with Damon, knowing he's in agreement. Anderson made the mistake of putting Winter's life at risk that night.

He all but signed his death certificate.

Em doesn’t add anything else to that. Her eyes flicker to the counter and she blinks for a moment. I catch her doing this occasionally. When I ask, she says it’s nothing.

But it’s something.

Damon tells me to give her time.

But she’s my wife and, God, I want to know. No secrets. That’s what we promised.

The conversation moves on and on and on, until night has fully taken over. The kids are passed out in the playpen in the living room, Winter’s whispering to Damon, pulling on his jacket sleeve to get him closer to the door, and we all pretend we don’t know what that means.

Banks and Kai start helping to clear the night’s dishes and trash while Rika sees Damon, Winter, and Alex out. Em picks up a large platter, careful not to spill the crumbs from the sandwiches we devoured over the course of the evening. As she turns, Kai is right behind her. I pause from gathering the cups and bottles to watch as he takes the platter from her. It takes a second but she lets him help, smiling as she follows him to the kitchen.

Kai told me what he said to her that night on the train while I was making calls and hiding. He’s apologized for it and Emmy said she accepted it. You’d think after we did later that night and then sharing a wedding, they’d be less awkward. She dived right in after everything and Kai has never been less than welcoming. Despite that, I feel it. This one thing, this crack in our foundation.

They’re trying, I know. It’s not easy to go from hating someone to seeing them as family overnight. But I worry what this will do to us if it continues. I love them both too much to let it happen. Em's my heart and Kai's been my reasoning for too long. I need them both.

Damon slaps my shoulder as his final parting, squeezing it for good measure. He’s the only one I’ve told my thoughts to. He’s not worried. Neither of them are big on talking; they respect actions so they communicate through doing, and that’s what will build their trust.

Though, I don’t think Damon worries about anything these days, except for whatever’s going on with Winter or Ivarson and their next one. Or his plans for Banks and Rika.

Maybe I’m just not ranking high enough on his radar anymore.

I’ll have to do something about that. Can't let him forget that I need him, too.

Rika waves us away when the kitchen is mostly clean. It’s late enough that I suspect she just wants us out of her house.

“If you were smart, you’d buy a secret property that none of us know about,” I tell her as she literally pushes me out the front doors. As usual, I’m the last to leave.

“I might have to,” she grunts, giving me another shove as I let gravity and my larger body give her trouble. “Otherwise, I’ll never get any privacy with my husband. Emory, think you can help?”

Emory rolls her eyes as she comes back up the stone steps. “Moron,” she mumbles, but the warmth in her eyes shakes me to my bones. She takes my hand and it’s like magic, pulling me towards her.

“Finally,” I hear Rika say and the door slam shut but all I can see is a rosy hue on golden skin and the tendons of Em's neck move when she sees me staring.

I laugh, watching as Emmy tries her hardest not to let that perfect smile show as I bring her hand up to my lips. She pretends to try to break away - or maybe she's serious - but it’s useless. No getting free now. She’s mine.

We descend the steps together, her hand in mine. She pushes her hair out of her face and adjusts her glasses. She only wears contacts when she’s working on-site, and I appreciate having free access to her face. I take full advantage, laying kisses across every millimeter while she tries to push me off. Still, her glasses are such a big part of her I’m happy she keeps on them most of the time.

I step towards passenger door of the truck to let her in, but she pulls me to a stop.

“It’s warm,” she says, looking at the sky.

“Yeah?” It’s spring. The weather is perfect. It’s late, but it’s Thunder Bay and I’m Will Grayson. “You wanna walk?”

She nods. I double check that the doors on the truck are locked, not that I’m worried about it.

We walk the same route the guys and I took the night we headed to Michael’s wedding, unknowingly our wedding. Every time it gives me a rush. I still can’t believe she sprang that one on me – just diving in. While I worried that she was changing her mind, she was focused on not wasting any more time. She’s so good at giving me everything I want and nothing I expect.

“What did you guys do to Anderson?” Emory asks as we walk through the center of town, our path lit only by the glow of the street lamps.

It takes a moment for me to remember the conversation from earlier. I don't know if she's asking about the Rika accident or his final moments, not that it matters.

“Nothing he didn’t deserve.” I look down at her, seeing the way her eyes flicker again. Using our linked hands, I pull her closer to my side forcing her to lean into me. “Why?”

“No reason, just curious. He was always a bit of a jerk.”

I frown, knowing more about him and his girlfriend than I’d like to. It pisses me off that we let them run around so freely after we left for college. But we didn’t know all that he was at the time, just that he pissed us off. “More than a bit, and more than a jerk.”

She snorts bitterly. “Yeah.”

Her response rolls around in my brain for a minute. Anderson was a predator, no two ways about it. If he had the guts to pick on Rika – the town’s sweetheart – and Winter – the mayor’s daughter – then Emory would be an easy target.

“He ever do anything to you?”

Her big dark eyes dart up to me and she gives me this look of disbelief. It’s the look she always gives me when she thinks I’ve asked a dumb question with an obvious answer. And yeah, sometimes the answers are obvious. I’ve only started looking at her past without my blinders so it’s going to take some time.

“But it’s no big deal,” she says with a shrug. “Everyone bothered me.”

I shake my head, angry for not having pieced it together before. Angry at Anderson but more at myself. “Why didn’t you say anything? I would’ve–" I break off with a harsh exhale. That’s a dead-end conversation and I know it.

Em lets out a short, harsh laugh. “Will, who do you think gave them the idea?”

I stop and she stops too, still hanging on to my hand. “What do you mean?”

She blinks, head cocked to the side in confusion. I’m serious, though. When she gets that, she sighs and looks way and squaring her jaw.

I yank on our linked hands, getting her attention back on me. “No secrets,” I tell her. It doesn’t matter that it’s the middle of the night and we’re standing in the middle of the street in the middle of our town. She’s telling me right now.

She raises her brows at the challenge. “Okay, Will. Tell me, what do you think the other students saw when you cornered me in the hallways? When you’d sit in the bed of your truck before school and joke about flipping my skirt? When you’d yank me into your lap or force others to sit away from me so you can have easy access to your mark?”

I remember clearly all the ways I tried to get her attention. I loved that blush that rose to her cheeks, quickly followed by the rush of anger in her eyes. She’s always been fun to tease. Even when she tried new tactics, like ignoring me or avoiding me, they never worked for long. Getting a rise out of her was the best part of my day. Sometimes the only reason I even went to school.

Which reminds me, I never did get to flip that blue skirt. Emmy doesn’t have her old school uniform anymore. Said she burned it the first chance she got after she landed in California. We still have my old tie, though, and I’m thinking Rika might have an in with the school. I’ll definitely pay for it, if that's the case.

She smirks, knowing where my thoughts had taken me, before sobering. “I know why you were doing it,” she says evenly. “But to everyone else, it just looked like I was Will Grayson’s target of the month. For three whole years."

I ground my teeth as she continued.

“Will Grayson, bullying the band geek. Will Grayson, laughing at the scholarship kid. Will Grayson, trying to get into the overalls of the moody, little nerd.”

My jaw clenched. I was trying to get into the overalls of my moody, little nerd. But that’s not all I wanted. And I probably would have killed anyone else who had the guts to try.

Emory swallows, her big eyes blinking at me from behind her glasses. “The other kids saw all that, and thought – well, if you can get away with it, I'm free game. So, they did it too.”

“It’s my fault.” Old news. I was so focused on her I didn’t think of the repercussions. It wasn’t just about her brother; I knew how mean my classmates could be. I brought the worst kind of attention to her and then didn’t shield her. I tried, when I caught it. But I wasn’t around all the time. I should've known there was more.

“No,” she whispers, shaking her head. “No, Will. I would have been a target anyway. I was a band geek and a scholarship kid, and my brother was a cop. You just made it impossible for me to stay in the background.”

Shit.

“Senior year was the worst,” she added casually, swinging out linked hands between us. “Because I had to deal with their shit and pretend that I didn’t know what it felt like to be loved by you. Martin was particularly hard, I think because he knew his time with me was coming to an end. I felt nothing but hate that year.”

I hate this. I need to hear it. Every story she chooses to share helps me see her better.

I pull her to me, hugging her to my chest and wrapping my arms around her, one around her back, the other winding through her hair. I kiss the top of her head and rest my chin there.

Never again.

“I’m going to make it up to you,” I vow into her hair. “Every day.”

I feel her shift against me, her hands running up my sides and under my shirt. They’re hot when they meet my bare skin. My heart jumps to my throat.

“Yes, every day,” she agrees. Her head tilts up until she’s looking at me. We meet eye to eye with how much I'm leaning over her. I can feel her breath against my lips and takes everything not to give into the pull. “Because now, I’m going to be your bully.”

I swallow, not even going to pretend I don’t respond to that; to the way she’s looking at me, as if I’m her next meal. God, yes.

She uses her hands at my sides to push me back until my back meets the brink wall of one of the closed businesses. It bites into my back but I can’t feel anything except her. Her lips form a wicked smile as they ghost around my neck and jaw, heating my skin.

She's testing my patience, something she's always been good at.

“I’m going to be the one shoving you into dark corners, and staring at you during your pick-up games with the boys. Distracting you.”

I try to move my hands to her hips, her ass, to bring her closer but she grips my wrist and pins them to the wall at my sides.

“Don’t play,” I groan, “you always stared at me during my games.”

“It was the uniform.”

My chest rumbles with the deep chuckle. “I know it was. I know a thing or two about uniforms, remember.” Yeah, I’m definitely getting one of those blue Thunder Bay Prep school uniforms. At least the skirt. She’s gonna let me flip it at least once.

She scoffs and I feel it everywhere. “I’m going to catcall you when I’m working in town with Damon, so that everyone knows who you're going home to. And I’m going to whisper the most delicious things in your ear, you’re going to wonder if I’m even real.”

I lean forward, trying to capture her lips but she moves out of the way. Her hands keep me pressed against the wall. I could easily overpower her, but this is it. This is everything I want.

This is everything I need.

Quiet, little Emory Grayson, making demands about what she wants. She looks so bored half the time, but right now she staring at me like she’s got plans for me.

And it's all for me.

We're going to be okay. I can already feel our foundation becoming stronger.

“Yeah,” she says, her lips finally connecting with my jaw and it feels like all pressure in me releases and triples at the same time. “You’re going to make it up to me, alright.”

“Hell, yeah,” I sigh as her warmth sinks in.

__

Master List

[moodymelanist]

clearly I miss my drabble days lmao. I started this one forever ago and I figured I might as well finish it because I love this little AU hehe. here’s some more winter soldier!Nesta AU featuring some iron man!Rhys because…. who else.

also currently accepting Nessian week prompts ❤️‍🔥

“You can still say no if you don’t want to,” Cassian whispered to Nesta as they walked out of the elevator. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Rhys had been needling them for almost two weeks to get a look at Nesta’s metal arm, and Cassian had been shocked when she finally said yes. He'd been constantly checking with Nesta to make sure she was actually alright with it, and by the annoyed expression on her face, she'd had enough.

"Sorry," Cassian apologized, coming to a stop in front of Rhys' lab. "I'm not trying to be annoying." "It's... fine," Nesta answered slowly. "You'll know if it's not."

Cassian chose to interpret that as a sign that she trusted him enough to say something if she got uncomfortable instead of an ominous promise.

“If you two are done canoodling,” Rhys called out, breaking their strange tension, “Some of us have real jobs to do.”

Cassian motioned for Nesta to go in first, but her eyes were wide as they darted over all the equipment in Rhys’ lab. It looked like a whirlwind had whipped through the space, dumping countless scrapped projects, various metals, and a random assortment of tools in its wake. Her steps came to a halt as her eyes settled on the chair Rhys had presumably cleared for her, and it took everything in Cassian not to reach out and steady her with a touch like he might've all those decades ago. The Nesta of today didn't like to be touched, especially when she couldn't see it coming, and he wouldn't be responsible for adding any more weight to those shoulders.

Rhys and Cassian shared a knowing look over Nesta’s head, and then his friend was saying something about the light being better in the living room anyway. Nesta looked so much more comfortable on her favorite beanbag chair that Cassian knew it had been the right decision.

“So. Metal arm,” Rhys commented, clapping his hands together with glee. “What do you know about it?”

Nesta looked down at her left arm and shrugged. “Not much.”

"That's helpful," Rhys replied sarcastically. He reached for a device that Cassian guessed was some kind of scanner given the screen on it. "How much is 'not much?'"

"It's a little difficult retaining information once it's fried out of you," Nesta replied flatly. Cassian couldn't help his wince, and he knew she caught it from the way her lips pressed together. "I don't know anything because they didn't want me to know anything."

Rhys shifted awkwardly, turning away to set up his fancy machine and recompose himself. "Right. Right. Makes sense."

They lapsed into awkward silence as Rhys continued playing with the settings on his scanner, but Cassian couldn't take it for much longer. He just hated seeing how uncomfortable Nesta was, no matter how much she tried to hide it.

“How long is this supposed to take?" he asked.

"Not more than a few minutes," Rhys answered testily.

“He doesn't like it when you question his expertise," Cassian whispered to Nesta. One corner of her mouth lifted in a slight smile, so he'd take it as a victory.

"He is right here and can hear you very well, thanks," Rhys sniped back.

“Don't be such a crumb," Nesta deadpanned.

Cassian couldn't hold back his laughter at the look on Rhys' face. "What did you just call me?"

"It's an old word for jerk," he explained. "You don't hear it much these days."

Rhys stared at Nesta incredulously before powering up the machine with a long-suffering sigh. "You old people and your outdated slang. Next thing I know, you'll be yelling about staying off my lawn."

“Maybe if you had a lawn to yell about," Cassian teased, grinning at the inquisitive look that had entered Rhys' eye. "That was not a suggestion that you buy another mansion so that you can have a lawn."

"Whatever you say, grandpa," Rhys said. He moved the scanner quickly around Nesta's arm, studiously ignoring the way she'd tensed under the machine's scrutiny. "Maybe I should get another mansion just to get under your skin. Hey, V.E.L.A.R.I.S.? What are houses going for with lawns these days?"

"Sir," the computer replied, somehow managing to make itself sound exasperated. "I don't think it's a good idea to buy a home in this market."

"Ah, remind me about this in two months and we'll see." Rhys set the scanner down and clapped his hands together. "Alright, you're all set. Get out of my hair, Frosty Squared."

Nesta was halfway to the elevator before Cassian had even processed the nickname, which for her was practically sprinting away. He and Rhys watched her disappear around the corner with equally heavy sighs before turning back to one another.

"At least she didn't deck me," Rhys offered.

"Little victories," Cassian replied with a pained smile.

"Give it time," Rhys responded sagely. Cassian knew it wouldn't last when his friend added, "Before long, maybe she'll be decking you in a way you like."

"Fuck off, Rhys," Cassian retorted. The billionaire's laughter followed him all the way to the elevator.

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