#do you have any idea how much I’ve been told ‘oh you must have something to hide then🤨🤨’ when criticizing shinigami eyes over the years

[theywontletmebeprincipal]

vindication

[chaoticallyfluffy]

I’ve been forced into reading Danny phantom fanfics because I’m desperate for Billy Batson content and for some reason half the stuff on ao3 is crossover stuff so I guess I like Danny phantom now?? Kind of?? I haven’t watched it and I don’t plan on it but I really like the idea of it.

Anywho,

Billy has maintained a very delicate balance of half truths and lies of ommision over the years to protect his identity as a literal child. He uses facts he learned from his patrons and his interest and knowledge in history, specifically Ancient Greece, to convince people he’s ancient.

Then one day this ghost guy joins the league claiming to be incredibly old as well except he just goes around straight up lying about stuff, saying whatever the hell he feels like about the past if it’s convenient to him or just funny. Most of it contradicts with the story Billy has been delicately weaving over the years and he’s kind of panicking.

One day he confronts the ghost guy and is like “I know your not actually ancient but I’m not a snitch, how old are you?”

And Danny kind of feels bad about pretending to be ancient in front of someone who has literally been around since at least Ancient Greece and confesses that he’s 14. Captain Marvel stares at him for a few minutes before breaking out in a big grin and transforming into a 12 year old Billy. They instantly become inseparable.

You’d think that Billy would ask Danny to stop lying all the time because it’s gonna get them caught, but no, he thinks it’s hilarious. Now whenever Danny says something absurd or directly contradictory of the actual history that Billy told them, they’re just like “oh yeah both of those happened at the same time but all the scribes were at the same spot so no one wrote about the other one and it was lost to time” or “there was a time loop for a good few years back in good old Greece so a lot of weird things happened that just didn’t stick.” Or “that did happen but only ghosts could perceive it.” Or sometimes, if they absolutely cannot get away with any other explanation, “dang must have dreamt it!”

The league is hopelessly confused and 90% sure they’re being messed with but they have no proof and if they look at the history at least MOST of the stuff they say is true so there’s really no reason to doubt it when Danny claims he once fist fought the god of time while the entirety of Rome cheered for him and placed bets, especially when Billy nods sagely and says he remembers having to clean up the space time continuum after the fight and that he lost the modern equivalent of ten bucks in the bet (he still doesn’t lie, just doesn’t disagree with the blatant dishonesty. He honestly did have to clean up the space time continuum multiple times after Danny messes with time a bit too much thanks to Clockwork + shenanigans. They make bets all the time too lol)

I think the contrast between ‘never lies’ and ‘lies all the time for funsies’ with the same motivation of ‘do the funniest thing possible at all times’ can be extremely entertaining and interesting.

[saphronethaleph]

Niman, the Way of the Rancor

Jango muttered a curse, closing his commlink.

You just couldn’t get the informants these days. Jango had bribed people in the Kaminoan facility to be informed if anyone showed up asking after him, but he hadn’t managed to get them to realize that the arrival of a starship not long after he’d returned from Coruscant might be important.

And now he’d only found out that a Jedi was present when they’d actually asked to see the template for the clones.

“Boba,” he said. “We might have an unexpected guest. And we might need to leave – soon.”

“Got it, dad,” his son replied. “Now?”

“No, the Jedi’s coming this way,” Jango replied. “I’ll try and trick them, then we leave as soon as they’re not here. Is all my armour hidden?”

The attendance chime went, and Jango rolled his head back and forth slightly as Boba went to answer it.

“Boba?” he heard Taun We ask. “Is your father here?”

“Don’t worry about little old me,” a calm voice added. “Just here to visit.”

“May we see him?” Taun We added.

“...sure,” Boba said, after several seconds of silence. “Uh. Dad! Taun We’s here!”

Jango moved around the corner of the apartment, to look at the visiting Jedi, and nearly swallowed his tongue.

There was a kriffing Rancor standing behind Taun We. A Rancor wearing a utility belt, attached to which were two lightsabers – one about the size of a small claw, the other big enough that Taun We could have used it as a neck splint.

“Welcome back, Jango,” Taun We said. “Was your trip productive?”

Jango blinked several times.

“...why is there a Rancor behind you?” he asked.

“Hello,” the Rancor said, in that same calm voice. “My name is Knight Tosh. Can I come in?”

Jango was still staring.

“Isn’t it ‘may’?” Boba asked, in the tones of a child who was trying to notice something he could process.

“I’m not sure how big the hallway is,” Tosh explained. “If there’s a problem with my fitting in, that’s fine, I can sit out here and we can talk.”

Putting actions to words, she sat down.

Jango wasn’t sure exactly how he’d decided that the Rancor was a ‘she’, but he supposed they probably did have genders.

“...you’re a Rancor?” he said, still trying to get past that essential point.

“Yes,” Tosh agreed. “A proud daughter of Dathomir. I’m told I’m named for my grandmother, who was the first of us to learn to read and write.”

She steepled the fingers on her enormous clawed hands.

“Aide We,” she said, a little more formally. “I must inform you that I’m here for a number of reasons, not just one. You see, I’ve been looking into a recent assassination attempt on that nice Senator Amidala.”

“Oh, goodness!” Taun We said. “That is most worrying.”

“It is,” Tosh agreed, with a surprisingly kindly smile given that it was a Rancor smiling, something that Jango’s brain kept circling around to. “The assassin is dead, which is fortunate, and I believe that Jango here did us the favour of eliminating her. So I wanted to thank him personally, and also ask if he had any idea why that might have happened… why he might have been hired to kill that particular shapeshifter, that is.”

Then she frowned. “Oh – but where are my manners? We should really start with how it is that you came to be the template for the clone army! It must be a fascinating story. I assume your young son there is involved, somehow?”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said, taking the mug from Cliegg Lars. “I think that’ll be enough for us for now.”

“Not a problem,” Cliegg replied. “You and the other Jedi are the one who rescued Anakin from his old life, that’d be enough to make you kin here, even before all you’ve done for us so far.”

“We do our best,” Obi-Wan smiled, taking a sip of the drink. “Very nice. Thank you again, Cliegg.”

“I don’t know what I expected,” Anakin admitted. “I never really imagined what it would be like to have my mom actually marry someone, but… I think he’s nice.”

“It’s not something the Jedi have much experience with,” Obi-Wan said. “I’m just as lost as you are, Anakin.”

“Are you sure this is a good place to hide out, Obi-Wan? Ani?” Padme asked.

She frowned, and waved her hand. “I don’t mean… that it’s a bad idea to be here. We’ve only been here two days and we’ve already rescued your mother, Ani. But if someone comes looking for us… we’re hiding with the only relatives Anakin has in the entire galaxy.”

“I’m quite sure that nobody will find us,” Obi-Wan replied.

“Yeah, I agree with Master Kenobi,” Anakin nodded. “If I was looking for where a Jedi was hiding, I’d never even think of looking for their family. Jedi just don’t think about family. It’s not something we do.”

“But the people who are trying to hunt me down… they do think about family, don’t they?” Padme said. “Or they might, anyway…”

“In which case, fortunately, we are in a very large desert,” Obi-Wan said. “Mos Espa would have been a suitable enough place to hide out, but now we’re off in the desert. A planet is a very big place to hide someone, Senator – and if there’s anyone in the galaxy who wouldn’t try to betray us, it’s Anakin’s close family. Even before we rescued his mother.”

Padme looked conflicted.

“I suppose you’re right,” she said. “I just worry that we’re too easy to find here. I don’t know how rational that is, but the extent of the resources available to our enemies…”

“Where would you have preferred?” Obi-Wan asked. “If this isn’t where you’d have thought to hide, where would you have hidden?”

“I’d have gone to Naboo,” Padme replied. “Relatives of my family have a house up in the lakes, in the mountains. It’s wonderful and calm and nobody ever goes there.”

“Actually, I like the sound of that, Master,” Anakin said. “Are you sure we can’t change plans and go there, now? There’s a lake there.”

“We brought a lake with us, Anakin,” Obi-Wan replied, tossing his head to indicate the beaten-up old freighter they’d used to get to Tatooine. “Or a large swimming pool, at least.”

Beru Lars chuckled.

“You three are terrible at this,” she said, from over in the corner. “We’re grateful for your arrival, but… none of you know the first thing about hiding.”

“We don’t?” Anakin asked. “What do you mean?”

“ Tatooine is a planet with slavery, which means a planet with crime,” Beru told them. “If you’re going into hiding, you want to get a good balance between the support network and being impossible to trace back to your owners.”

“Of course,” Padme murmured. “It’s a shame the Republic hasn’t been able to do anything about the slavery out here.”

“That’s your department, isn’t it” Beru asked. “With your being a senator, that is.”

“Padme’s brought it up in the Senate a few times,” Anakin said, defending her. “It’s never gone far, though.”

“Part of the problem is that the Republic doesn’t have the ability to do much about it,” Padme admitted. “We have a navy, but no real army – and bombarding Tatooine to help end slavery seems like a bad idea.”

Beru inclined her head.

“That’s fair,” she conceded. “It’s easy enough to forget that, out here. And I’d bet it seems hard to remember there are people in chains, when you’re on glittering Coruscant.”

“We could be doing more than we are,” Padme allowed. “Once this is over, I’ll see what I can do.”

Darth Tyrannus looked at Jango, his gaze calm. Calm, in the way that the ground was calm, under a descending meteor.

He was extremely unimpressed.

“You told her everything?” he asked, his fingers drumming on his belt next to the handle of his lightsaber.

“Not everything, but… more than I think I should have,” Jango replied, somewhat embarrassed. “You weren’t there. It was… I’d like to see you concentrate on what your story is when there’s a Rancor staring at you. Complimenting you. Offering you tips on how to make tea.”

He shook his head. “Saying that she could smell Coruscant on your clothes. And that’s before the fact that she’s a Jedi.”

Dooku sniffed.

“I think that if I were confronted with a Rancor, and it pulled out a lightsaber, I would be relieved,” he said.

There was a sort of soft thump behind him, and Jango glanced up before going pale and holding up his hands.

“Good afternoon,” a pleasant voice said. “Dooku, it’s nice to meet you at last. Should I call you Count? Or do you prefer the name Darth Tyrannus?”

Dooku knew what he was going to see behind him.

He knew it.

But he had to turn around and look anyway, and so he did.

“Tosh,” he said, and this time he did take his lightsaber off his belt – though he didn’t light it. “How did you get here?”

“A tracking beacon, of course,” Tosh replied. “Well, actually two, one of them was in the fidget spinner I gave young Boba, but I didn’t want him to feel embarrassed so I stuck one to Mr. Fett’s ship as well. I must say, I do like the climate here. Pleasantly dry.”

She smiled, in a way that was somehow disarming until you refocused and remembered what the smile was attached to. “You know, we’re actually somewhat related! In the Jedi sense, at least. I’m not sure how you’ve kept up with master-student relationships in the Temple since you left, but that nice dear Yoda trained me for a few years.”

Dooku did his very best to contain a nervous swallow.

“I have surpassed my old Master,” he said. “I doubt even he could defeat me now.”

“Oh, that’s quite possible,” Tosh agreed, nodding. “Yoda’s always been sentimental, you know. He finds it so hard to fight seriously. It’s not something I’d call a character flaw, but it is what it is.”

She shrugged. “I’d very much appreciate it if we didn’t have to fight today, you know. Since I know you’re a Sith, what about if you give me information on your Master? I know that betrayal is the kind of thing the Sith like to do, and that way we don’t have to fight.”

Dooku evaluated his options.

All it would take for his plans to hold together would be for him to be confident in his ability to defeat this Jedi Knight. This mere… Jedi Knight.

This mere… Rancor… Jedi Knight…

The other option was looking appealing. It was difficult to deny that.

“It’s hard to believe,” Mace Windu admitted, leaning back in his chair.

It was a common posture in the Jedi Council whenever this particular Knight was reporting to them, and Mace felt a most un-Jedi-like pang of jealousy for Yarael Poof. Long-necked and calm, the Quermian Master was the only one able to look Tosh in the eye without either leaning back or standing up.

“Hmm,” Yoda mused. “Mistaken you are not, I assume?”

“Being mistaken is always a possibility, Master,” Tosh answered. “But the plan that Dooku told me does seem to make a good deal of sense… it’s one of those plans where the Sith would win no matter which side of the war was triumphant.”

She spread her massive hands. “It could all be a lie… but it does explain a few things, which leads me to think it might be true. I’d recommend at least testing it.”

“A good approach,” Ki-Adi-Mundi said, to nods from Plo Koon and Sasee Tiin.

“It ties into what Master Gallia has been discovering recently as well,” the latter said. “The Trade Federation’s involvement in this is unsurprising, but the Techno Union, Intergalactic Bank Clan… again, investigation is needed.”

A ripple of agreement ran around the Council.

“And what of the clone army?” Yoda asked. “Commissioned by us, the Kaminoans were told.”

“Oh, I thought the best thing to do was to send them to make sure that nice Senator Amidala was safe,” Tosh replied, with a pleasant smile.

Windu frowned, then looked over at Yoda.

“When was the last time we got an update from Kenobi and Skywalker?” he asked.

“It’s been… a while,” Yarael Poof said, doing his neck exercises. “Last contact was shortly after they reached Tatooine. They were going to avoid broadcasting to make sure they weren’t tracked down.”

Mace Windu activated a holocommunicator.

“Old Folks Home to Guiding Light,” he said. “Knight Kenobi. What is your situation?”

“Guiding Light copies,” a hazy image of Obi-Wan Kenobi replied. “Master Windu, I think we just liberated Tatooine by accident.”

“By accident?” Ki-Adi-Mundi replied. “How exactly did you-”

He stopped, remembering the missions that Kenobi and his Padawan had been on.

“Never mind, carry on,” he requested. “What happened?”

“Someone sent us an army,” Obi-Wan said. “We didn’t actually order them to do anything, but Senator Amidala gave some speeches and I think things sort of escalated from there…”

[hayleythesugarbowl]

could I request an Ian hecox x reader where it’s an established relationship and reader also works at smosh!? Ty + I love your writing so much!!! Please take care and take your time :)

Fishy || Ian Hecox x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist  ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: you and ian have been dating for some time now, sneaking around so no one in the office knows you’re seeing each other. but when you find yourself in an uncomfortable situation, you’re forced to reveal your relationship to your coworkers

word count: 1.8k

warnings: none

a/n: hello love!! i hope you enjoy this + the way i went with it. it’s a little short but it gets the job done i think. i love ian sm 🤭

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “Hey you.”

     You spun around to find Ian, your boyfriend, standing behind you.

      He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in for a kiss.

     “Ian,” you whispered. “Not here.”

     You were in the middle of the Smosh studio. Well, not exactly in the middle. More like a secluded corner. But still, anyone could walk in.

      “Man, you eat a few garlic fries and suddenly it’s—”

     You laughed, interrupting him. “You know it’s not that.”

     It wasn’t that you didn’t want anyone to know that you were dating Ian. In fact, if any of your coworkers were perceptive at all they would’ve noticed by now. You’d come to work wearing something of Ian’s too many times to count.

     But nobody had noticed yet and you just weren’t exactly eager to tell them. That way you were spared all the dating your boss jokes. 

     “I could send everyone home,” Ian shrugged. 

     “You’re impossible,” you smiled, rolling your eyes at him. 

     “Or a genius,” he countered, tucking your hair behind your ear.

     You leaned into his touch, wishing this could last forever.

     Suddenly, you heard the sounds of voices coming towards you. Your friends must have just gotten done with a shoot.

     You quickly stepped away from Ian, leaving a safe distance between you. 

     You felt Ian flinch. You hated it too, but it was better this way. Or, that’s what you told yourself.

     Courtney was the first one to round the corner, smiling when she saw the two of you. “Hey, my guys! You ready?”

     You’d almost forgotten. Some of you had planned on going to lunch after filming was over that day. You couldn’t believe it was already that time—the day had flown by.

     “Definitely,” you shot Courtney a thumbs up. 

     “I’m starving,” Shayne came up behind his wife, throwing his arm around her shoulder. “All I’ve eaten today is Garret’s weird peanut butter pasta.”

     “I didn’t think it was that bad,” Anthony admitted, standing beside them. “It was flavorful, at least.”

     “And oddly fishy,” Angela added, making a face as she followed.

     “Oh that was the Anchovy paste,” Chanse said. “And I liked it, Garret let me keep the jar.”

     “This coming from Mr. Lube,” Ian mock- whispered and everybody laughed.

     “Laugh all you want, but it came in handy last weekend,” Chanse crossed his arms.

     “Which reminds me,” Courtney turned to you, “Jonah’s coming with us to lunch with us!”

     You felt your face pale. “What?”

     “What does that have to do with lube?” You heard Angela mutter to Chanse.

     “You remember, the guy I was talking about that would be perfect for you? I invited him so you two can officially meet,” she beamed.

     You saw a muscle in Ian’s jaw tick as you tried to fake a smile. 

     You had forgotten about that too. A couple weeks ago, Courtney had mentioned one of her friends who had just moved to the area. She kept going on about how he was kind and funny and something about your signs being compatible. 

     You knew Courtney had no idea that you and Ian were in relationship, otherwise she definitely wouldn’t be trying to set you up with another guy.

     You had panicked in trying to cover up your’s and Ian’s relationship and told her that you’d love to go out with him sometime.   You kinda hadn’t thought anything would actually come of it. 

    “Court, I don’t know,” You started. “Maybe some other time or—”

     “It’s already done,” she said, “Trust me, I wouldn’t set you up with anyone I didn’t think you would hit it off with immediately.”

     There was nothing you could do but smile and say, “Alright.”

     You couldn’t tell her why you suddenly had changed your mind about wanting to go out with her friend. Not without revealing your secret relationship. And you couldn’t not go to the lunch, not without raising everyone’s suspicions. 

     You looked at Ian and he shrugged. Anthony caught your eye and he gave you a reassuring smile.

     He was the only one at Smosh that knew about you and Ian. Being Ian’s best friend he said he just knew these things.

     That, and he’d caught you one time in the break room. 

     “Well, yay!” Courtney exclaimed. “Let’s go then.”

     All of you began walking towards the door. You hung back so you could talk to Ian without anyone hearing your conversation. 

     “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

     “Hey, it’s not your fault,” he said, letting his fingers brush yours as you walked. “Just, you know, be really repulsive so he doesn’t want to go out with you.”

     You chuckled, “I’ll try my best. Where are some of those garlic fries when you need them?”

     You grabbed Ian’s hand, linking your fingers together, safe behind everyone else.    

     Anthony turned around, smiling at the two of you. 

     You took a deep breath, looking at Ian, and praying you could get through this lunch unscathed. 

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

      “Ok, is it just me, or does everything taste like fish?” Angela asked, dipping a fry in ketchup and holding it out in front of her.

     “It’s just you,” You took the fry out of her hand, popping it into your mouth.

      You sat at a table, an array of food and drinks atop it, Ian on one side of you and Jonah on the other.

      Of course it had worked out that way. 

      Jonah had tried to talk to you throughout the whole lunch—why wouldn’t he? as far as he knew this was supposed to be a date?—and you had tried to act as politely disinterested as possible.

     Now, he turned to you, asking, “So, are you more of a ketchup or a mustard  person?”

     “Um, I like both,” you answered. “Depends on what I’m eating.”

     “Me, I can’t stand mustard,” the man said, “Not since the shark incident of 4th grade.”

     He began telling you the story and you promptly spaced out. You looked across the table. Shayne and Courtney were deep in a conversation and Angela was putting fries in her mouth and imitating a walrus to an annoyed Chanse. 

     Next to you, Ian was talking to Anthony in a low voice. 

     “And so anyways, needless to say I don’t where orange pants on Tuesday’s anymore,” Jonah was saying. 

     You nodded, realizing you’d missed most of whatever he was saying. 

     You turned to Ian. He smiled at you and grabbed your hand under the table. You looked round to make sure no one had seen the exchange.

     But everyone was fully engrossed in their conversations. Except for the man next to you.

     “So,” he started, and you gave him credit for trying to make conversation, even as you were practically ignoring him, so as not to give him the wrong idea. “Do you come to this place often?”

     “First time I’ve been,” you said. “But the fries are killer, I may have to come back.”

     “Maybe we could come back together,” he answered. 

     You felt Ian grip your hand tighter under the table.

     “Oh,” you fumbled for words. “Maybe. But I’m going to be pretty busy with work for a while. You might want to go with someone else, no use waiting on me.”

     “And if I want to wait on you?” He almost whispered. 

     “I’m flattered,” you managed. “But I’m just not really looking to date right—”

     “Courtney told me you were looking for a serious relationship,” Jonah accused.

     Of course she had. You had basically told her as much.

     “Courtney may have gotten the wrong idea,” you said, “I’m not really interested in a relationship, of any kind, at the moment.”

     “What?” Courtney asked. She must have heard her name and now was waiting for a response. The whole table was, it looked like.

     “I lied,” you said. “I’m not looking to date—I can’t date.”

     “Why not?” 

     You took a deep breath. “Jonah, you seem like a great—”

     If not a little pushy

     “—person, but I can’t go out with you. With anyone. Because…”

     You looked to Ian for help, nodding ever- so-slightly. He smiled back at you, as if to say go for it. You watched as everyone’s eyes were on you. Now was a good a time as any.

     “Because I’m already seeing someone,”you blurted out.

     “Oh!” Courtney exclaimed. “Well, that’s great! Can I ask who?”

     “He lives kinda far away,” Anthony interrupted quickly, looking at you. “Right, (Y/n)? You probably wouldn’t—”

     You shook your head, silently thanking him for being willing to help, but knowing you might as well spill the beans now.

     “I’m—” You stared, but Ian beat you to it.

     “It’s me,” Ian said. “(Y/n) is dating me.”

     Everyone’s shocked expressions moved back and forth between you and Ian.

     He lifted your linked hands from under the table, as if it was some kind of proof. You supposed it was.

     “That’s right,” Ian said, pointing at you and looking around at all of your friends. “I’m the lucky guy who gets to get with this.”

     “We were waiting for a good time to tell you guys,” you said, rolling your eyes at Ian. “And, surprise!”

     “You’re dating?” Anthony over-dramatized. “This is news to me!”

     “Anthony, shut up, you knew the whole time,” Ian waved him off.

     “Wow,” Shayne ran a hand through his hair. “Congratulations you guys. I have like four—no, five!—jokes I could—”

     You raised an eyebrow at him.

     “Later,” he corrected, leaning back in his chair as Courtney patted his arm. “It can wait till later.”

     “I had no idea,” Courtney turned to you. “I totally didn’t mean to encourage you to cheat.”

     “I know,” you assured her.

     “Yeah, well, I’m going to take off,” Jonah said, standing up. “Later Courtney. Nice meeting you (Y/n).”

     “You know, I’m not sure I liked him,” Chanse crossed his arms. 

     He left the table and Courtney leaned in. “You know, the more I think about it, the more I’m starting to feel like you’re not perfect for each other.”

     Your whole table burst into laughter, before quieting down again.

     You turned to face Ian. You felt lighter than you had in a while. As fun as it was sneaking around, it would be a lot more fun not having to hide your relationship from your friends. 

     “So,” you started.

     “So,” Ian agreed.

     “I think there’s only one thing left to do,” you told him. 

     “Eat Jonah’s food?” Ian joked.

     But you just shook your head, leaning in and kissing him on the lips.

     Your friends whooped and hollered, enjoying the moment with you. 

     You pulled away from Ian gently, his arm still around your shoulder. 

     You loved Ian so much. 

     And you thought your coworkers reaction was something? Wait until the fans found out. 

     Because you would tell them—in due time. In fact, you had all the time in the world. Right now, you just let yourself enjoy this moment, surrounded by people you love.

     “Okay, taste this celery,” Angela said, as she held out the stalk. You’d almost forgotten she was there—she had been uncharacteristically quiet this whole time.

     “You can’t tell me it doesn’t taste fishy!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ ahh hope you enjoyed my babes 💋 stay tuned for another ian fic coming soon!!

[ghostgirl-22]

patricks first time bottoming #thinking

Hmm 🤔 yes work that beautiful brain <3

—-

CW: 18+ !NSFW!

Patrick handles it like he handles everything else, a bit of bravado, a ton of audacity and maybe a little too much vulnerability.

He’s so nervous but he’s not telling Art that. No, as far as Art knows Patrick’s done this a million times and he’s the expert here. It took some research, which admittedly for him meant searching the porn sites. He got a little caught up and just ended up masturbating a lot but he thinks he pretty much gets the idea.

“Wait,” Art hums, he’s playing with the bottle of lube distractedly. “How will I know how much to use?”

Patrick’s been lying in front of him for quite some time. Art’s being overly analytical, he does that when he’s nervous. It’s the exact opposite of Patrick’s style of coping with nerves. He’d rather jump in feet first and back track if he needs to. The anticipation is making him a little crazy.

“Okay so how about you start by putting any on?” Patrick says impatiently.

Art frowns, Patrick can practically see the gears in his head turning. “Maybe I’m supposed to— to use my fingers. I uh— I really don’t want to hurt you.”

“Well I mean it stretches and stuff. Like girls do.” Patrick explains.

“Really?” Art asks

“Yeah definitely,” Patrick says confidently. Hoping he’s right. But he’s seen some pretty big things shoved up there so he’s almost certainly right.

“What’s it feel like?” Art asks.

“I mean honestly it’s the best thing ever, probably hurts a tiny bit the first time but uh then it’s just moaning and groaning for hours. Sometimes you could take one or two or three in a row.”

Arts eyes go wide as Patrick’s talking. “You’ve done that before?”

“Oh definitely,” Patrick says, “I told you I’ve been to the gay club before.” That parts true. He’s gone with a buddy before but it had actually been a little overwhelming. He’d never felt that brazen with it before and ended up pussying out after the one guy he made out with asked him if he wanted to come over. He’s still not sure what made him cry on the drive home but that’s not Arts business either.

“Okay well then I guess since I only have the one,” Art says, idly. “But I’m gonna try my fingers first anyway.”

“Sure,” Patrick says. “If that makes you feel better but you gotta do something babe.”

Art chuckles a bit. “Yeah okay.” He starts coating his fingers in lube and it’s starting to feel real again. Patrick feels his heart rate pick up. He’s really hopeful that the pain really is only a little bit. God forbid he can’t handle it and he has to admit to Art that he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing either.

He feels Art’s fingertips and he holds his breath as he prepares for the breach. Art’s gentle, long fingers curl into him and Art presses his other palm lightly against Patrick’s abdomen. “You okay?” Art asks.

“Yeah,” Patrick says, attempting to sound light but he just sounds too quiet. He clears his throat and puts the bass back in his voice. “Yes good now what about your dick?”

“You’re not breathing,” Art observes.

Patrick lets the air out of his lungs and takes another deep breath in. Art’s moving his fingers around and it feels weird actually. Like he wants to like it but it’s odd having something, someone inside him like this. Then something odd happens… as Arts working his fingers around he feels him scraping along what must be an overly sensitive nerve ending. He gasps and Art panics.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, no, God no. That was— actually can you do that again?”

“Uh I don’t know what I did,” Art says frowning, “this?”

He scissors his fingers and they brush against that spot again and Patrick moans and takes a breath, but Arts watching him so he does it again and again until Patrick feels like his cock is full to bursting and he’s about to come untouched.

“Okay,” he gasps, “you said you wanted to fuck me but I’m about to fucking cum on your fingers. Will you just—just use your dick already.”

Art is smiling at him as he eases his fingers out. He too slowly covers his dick in lube. Patrick feels impatient for it. If the fingers felt like that the real thing must be amazing. And he wants Art to do it. Needs it to be Art. Even if he’ll never know he was the first.

Art takes his time pushing in and yeah… god… the feeling is different. Much, much fuller. It’s like he feels Art pushing in inch by fucking inch. “Patrick,” Art breathes. “How is it so… mmh…I thought you said it stretches. Doesn’t feel like pussy. t’s so much tighter.” He groans.

Patrick’s holding his breath again. He can feel every bit of the stretch and the ache of it. He can hear Art breathing, oddly he thinks he can feel his heart beating. He’s nearly entirely breached and it feels like… a lot.

Fuck.

“Oh god,” he whispers.

“Is it okay?” Art moves, slowly sliding back out.

“Yeah, yeah good,” Patrick says, throwing his arm over his face to hide his eyes as they fill with tears.

“Are you sure?” Art asks.

“Yes, please, Art, please fuck me.”

He feels Art press a soft kiss to his mouth, “breathe,” he whispers and Patrick lets the air out and then he’s starting again. Slowly, after maybe a few borderline painful pushes Patrick isn’t squeezing his eyes shut anymore. And distantly he can feel a bit of arousal starting to build back up.

He doesn’t move his arm because honestly he’s a bit of a mess for this. Art is so gentle and this feels like intimacy on an entirely different scale. Patrick hadn’t expected that and honestly there’s no way to backtrack now.

It happens right at the end, Patrick is feeling the coil and the build in his stomach, Arts slipping in and out so much easier and then he feels Art starting to press at the spot… the spot that nearly made him come untouched. And suddenly, he’s grabbing himself.

“Fuck, fuck oh fuck,” Patrick groans as Art makes contact again and again and he’s jerking himself as sticky creamy ropes of come start to slide down his fingers. Art eases his dick out and jerks himself off, till little spurts of pearly white spill wet and hot all over Patrick’s bare stomach.

Art sighs with relief.

Patrick plays with Arts hair, certain now that he’s wiped away all sign that he’d been crying. The emotions aren’t gone though as Art collapses into his arms, smearing the mess between them. “It’s your first time huh?” Art sighs.

Patrick ponders continuing the lie but curiosity gets the better of him. “How did you know?”

“You were shivering for one,” Art says softly.

“Oh,” Patrick says, he hadn’t even realised it.

“Also you still need to learn to delete your internet history if you’re gonna use my laptop to look up porn.” Art adds dryly.

Patrick laughs, “Right. I’ll uh remember to do that. I just… mine got some kinda virus and shut down.”

“I wonder why,” Art says, smirking. Patrick grins, so Art knew the whole time. Which explains his nerves and his pace and his concern for not hurting Patrick. It makes Patrick ache in a way he doesn’t really understand but right now he can swallow down on it. He lets out a contented sigh and just hugs Art closer.

[mattitties]

can u plz do a fluff fanfic about the reader being scared of thunder and there's a rlly loud thunder storm so matt has to comfort her? thanks :)

thunder - matt sturniolo

“Really? I love when it storms. I think it’s so peaceful and I can just curl up and watch a movie or something,” Matt tells me. It’s our second date and we’re in the “biggest fears” category, and I told him about my extremely irrational, but very severe, fear of storms. 

“I get that,” I reply. “It’s really not that I’m just scared of storms, my best friend’s house was struck by lightning and caught on fire when we were in high school, so it kind of just set something off in my head. I know it sounds stupid because it didn’t happen to me, but it just started this crazy fear.”

“Oh wow, that’s terrifying. No, I totally get it, it’s not stupid.”

As I sit with my knees tucked to my chest on my bathroom floor, I think back to that conversation from three months ago. It’s the first storm I’ve experienced since I moved to LA, and I’m a mess. My windows are rattling with each clap of thunder, and all I can think about is my roommate at work right now. She enjoys storms, but my anxiety is getting the best of me thinking about everything that could go wrong. 

What if she can’t make it to her car? What if she gets in an accident on the way home? What if I’m stuck here for the rest of the night by myself?

She’s the only person I’ve got here in LA. I had Matt, but then I fucked it all up right on our two month anniversary.

I was so ridiculously busy with work and what felt like 800 pounds of shit piling up in my life that I completely forgot about our anniversary. I stood him up at the dinner that he made reservations for, and subsequently didn’t go to the hockey game that he was going to surprise me with; the hockey game which he got $300 tickets for. 

I apologized profusely and told him I would do anything to make it up to him, and he told me he was just really disappointed and needed some space before we talked again.

He called me a couple days later and I didn’t answer because I was so ashamed and embarrassed I couldn’t even face him. 

He texted me, I never replied. After three days of missed calls and texts, I guess he got the message because he stopped trying.

A week after that, I texted him apologizing for everything and explained my intentions behind my actions.

He didn’t answer. I don’t blame him.

That was three weeks ago, and it’s been radio silence on both ends. I guess we’re really done, but I really, really need him right now.

I turn on the shower to try to drown out some of the noise of the thunder, but nothing is working. I look at the weather app. It shows the same pattern until tomorrow morning.

I’m so fucked. I can barely breathe, my heart is beating out of my chest, and I just want to die. I’ve been texting my roommate to see when she’s returning but she’s busy at work and I’m trying not to annoy her any more than I know I have been, so now I’m just sitting in front of the shower, praying that everything would just stop.

Ten or so minutes pass, and I hear the front door open. Nobody ever comes to our apartment and my roommate always forgets her key, so I just leave it deadbolted when I’m home. I turn off the shower and call out her name to let her know I’m home, but she must not hear me. I pull myself together as much as possible and go out to the living room, but I don’t see the face I expect when I get there.

“Matt?” I whisper. I’m in such shock that nothing else comes out.

He’s absolutely drenched as he stands by the front door with a bottle of lemonade. I love lemonade.

“Hi,” he smiles shyly as he raises the hand holding the bottle. “I, uh, brought you something.”

I have no idea what to say. I opt for, “what are you doing here?”

“Well, I know how much you hate storms, so I thought you could use some company. Also… I just really miss you. And I would like to talk about us. We don’t have to do it tonight, obviously, but–”

“Yes. Yes, we can talk. Tomorrow? We can get breakfast? My treat,” I say, sounding pathetically desperate, but this is all I’ve wanted for the past three weeks.

“Okay,” he says as he takes off his shoes. “Do you happen to still have some of my sweatshirts and sweatpants? I’m kinda…” he says, motioning to the water dripping off of him.

“Yes! In my room, come.” He follows me to my room and I give him his clothes that I’ve worn an embarrassing amount of times since we broke up. “You didn’t have to come tonight,” I tell him. “This is really, just… I don’t deserve this after what I did.”

He waves a hand at me as if to say forget about it. “We’ll talk about that tomorrow. And I did have to come. Because I care about you, and I know you wouldn’t want to be alone tonight.”

I’m about to cry. I really don’t deserve this guy. 

“Let me go change, then we can crack open that lemonade and cuddle and watch something. Sound good?” he asks.

All I can do is nod in response as I watch him smile before he goes to the bathroom. I pour the lemonade into two glasses and set them on the bedside tables. 

When he comes back out and lays on my bed, I just stand there, wondering if he wants me to join him.

“Hello, what are you waiting for? Don’t leave me hangin!”

I smile and lay next to him, feeling more at home than ever when he pulls me into him.

[beenbaanbuun]

Hey Bunny! I hope you’re doing well <3 so I got this thing with that one interview Hongjoong and Mingi did during his Halazia hair phase.. he looked so damn good with the styling and outfit and the ROSARY 😫 I was wondering if you would be open to the idea of Priest!Mingi and assistant reader, Mingi degrading the reader when she confesses that she thinks of a certain someone in an unholy way. MEAAAN dom Mingi, punishing her for the way she looks at him during service and being told of such sinful things by his assistant. anyway! Thank you so much <3

warnings - priest!mingi, sex in church, oral (m!recieving), throat fucking, degredation, mean dom! mingi, oh god i’m going to hell…

so idk if any of you have seen fleabag but hot priest!mingi is not something i knew i needed until now.

like i’m just thinking about the whole confession scene where fleabag ends up on her knees in front of him, and whilst the hot priest has it in him to walk away, i just know mingi does not.

because for all his talk of being a holy man, this man knows deep down that he is nothing but a slut. perhaps he thought becoming a priest would cure him of his sexual cravings, but instead the abstinence just made it all worse. especially when you started working in his place of worship. such a pretty thing willing to do anything he asks for? you’re sent by the devil as a temptation, he’s sure of it.

the way you look at him during service only proves his theory. how you sit there with your lips agape, practically begging for him to shove something between them, and the way you clench your thighs whenever he speaks to the congregation; it all works against him, reverting him back to the depraved man he was before becoming holy.

so when the two of you end up in the confession booth one evening, he can’t help but hold his breath in anticipation. he prays to his god that he has the courage to power through whatever it is you’re going to tell him. he prays for the ability to control himself, and promises to make up for his sins in any way he can. for a moment, he thinks it’s enough, but then you start talking, and just your voice is enough the make his dick jump in his pants. that’s when he knows for certain you were sent by the devil.

“forgive me father for i have sinned,” you mutter, breath bated as you wait for him to respond. this is a bad idea, you tell yourself. getting horny every time mingi steps into a room is bad enough, but telling him about it feels so much dirtier. perhaps you should keep it a secret; take it to the grave. beg for forgiveness at st. peters gate.

“tell me your sins,” mingi responds, voice breathy. it’s enough to send your mind stumbling into that dark place again. you thought church to be a holy place, so why did you feel more at kin with the devil right now.

“i’ve been having… thoughts, father,” you begin, “sinful thoughts. thoughts i shouldn’t be having outside of wedlock.”

mingi sucks in a breath, tipping his head back until it hats the back of his side of the confession booth. the thud makes you jump in place, but no more so than the noise that follows. a low grunt that seems to echo through the booth. images of what he could be doing in there fill your brain, and you desperately try to shun them away.

“and who are you having these thoughts about?” you’re sure that behind his gravelly voice you can hear the sound of a zipper. you cant help but let your mind spiral even further as images of the man, sweaty with cock in hand, fill your brain. you struggle to hold in the whimper that crawls up your throat.

“you, father,” you whisper, feeling nothing but ashamed of your confession, “i have these thoughts about you.”

silence follows, eerie and daunting. you cant blame him for that; it must be a shock to find out his assistant has been thinking about doing unholy things with him. you can’t help but feel immeasurable guilt for thinking about him in that way, and perhaps you were right when you pondered just taking it to the grave. his silence doesn’t help soothe your concerns in the slightest.

but then the curtain before you is ripped open, and mingi stands before you looking like sin itself. his black shirt is wide open to reveal the smooth skin of his chest. his zipper - you knew you’d heard it - is open, making space for his hand to palm at his boxer-clad crotch. you swallow down your drool as you look into his eyes; dark and menacing as he stares into your soul.

“get on the floor,” he spits. you quickly shuffle off of the bench, dropping to your knees before him. you watch as his thumb circles the wet patch on his boxers, a guttural moan exiting his plush lips as he digs his thumb in slightly. it’s a sight to behold, the way he bites into his bottom lip and scrunches his face up in pleasure. you can’t look away.

“fucking slut,” he pants to himself as he hurries to push his trousers and boxers down past his hips. his dick bounces as it’s freed from its material cage, and upon seeing it you moan. long and hard and thick and everything you’ve ever dreamed of it being. you want to crawl forwards to take a closer look, but before you can, mingi takes a step forward.

his cock it eye level now, and you can’t help but study it. the perfect pink mushroom tip that drips pearlescent liquid from its slit. the silken skin that covers the shaft, glistening with sweat as the dim lights from the confessional booth shine down upon it. the thick vein that runs from his sack to the top, throbbing as it begs for your touch.

“father,” you whisper, looking up at his face with wide eyes.

“what is it, slut?” he spits down at you, “tell me what you want.”

you glance to his dick before looking up at him again. he chuckles darkly, “where has that slutty little tongue gone?” he taunts, “you seemed to have no problem telling me about your sinful thoughts a minute ago, yet now you can’t even tell me what you want? perhaps you’re dumber than i gave you credit for.”

you open your mouth to say something, but clamp it shut when you can’t find the words. mingi just tuts at you from where he stands, waiting impatiently for you to say something.

“please, father,” you feel your face heat up at you stumble over your words, “please may i touch you?”

he scoffs.

“touch me?” a hand grabs your chin, fingers digging into your cheeks in a way that makes your lips pucker. there’s bound to be red crescents on your face, left by his fingernails that show no mercy, digging in to the point where it makes you wince, “you think i’d let a whore like you touch me?”

you whine.

“pathetic,” he grunts as he lets you go. you can’t find the courage to move your hands to massage at your aching jaw. you let it hurt as he presses his fingers to your lips, forcing themselves into your mouth to pull down your bottom jaw. when it’s completely slack, he let’s go and steps closer yet again, “you’re going to pay for what you’ve done, little girl. just sit there and take it, and maybe if you please me, we can talk about your forgiveness.”

he waits to see if you’ll close your mouth, but you don’t. you want this.

and with that, he presses and hand to the back of your head and forces his dick into your mouth, pushing it forward until it hits a barrier at the back of your throat. you choke, but he doesn’t pull back. he just lets it sit there, effectively gagging you until there are tears pooling up in the corners of your eyes and drool threatening to cascade down your chin.

his face is stony as he stares you down, watching you struggle for air so prettily. he pulls back briefly, taking a little mercy on you before pushing back in just as hard as the first time. you barely have time to gasp for air before it’s ripped away from you once again.

he pushes in further, feeling your tight throat clench around his cock and he almost cums on the spot. so warm and wet and tight around him that he can’t help but cry out in pleasure as he pulls back once more.

you’re grateful as he lets you take in a few breaths before delving in once again, this time thrusting messily back and forth. you gag every time he hits your uvular, but it doesn’t seem to deter him. it only eggs him on, driving him to go harder and faster with every single thrust.

he’s close, he realises as he feels you try to swallow around him. your face is already a mess with spit and tears, but he can’t help but feel like you’ll look even prettier with his cum painting your face too.

he pulls out completely, thrusting into his fist a couple of times. the dam breaks quicker than he expected, and the white spurts of liquid that erupt from his tip fall perfectly on your face. you close your eyes just in time for some to land on your eyebrow, dripping down to mix with the tears that have yet to stop flowing.

“pretty little slut,” he hums once he’s finished cumming, and his cock begins to soften in his grasp. he chuckles, “go clean your face up, okay? you have five minutes before i come looking; i want a taste of that slutty little hole next.”

[chatterbox-73]

Kinktober 2024.

Day 17 - A/B/O.

Asahi Azumane x fem!Reader

This story is a smut story for Kinktober, I’ll be writing more characters x reader one shots for Kinktober and if you want to see a character please let me know...

You must be 18 years or older to read this...

🔞⚠️NO MINORS ALLOWED⚠️🔞

A/N: I’ve been really busy so here’s another repost.

Summary: Asahi tells you he can’t see you for a little while and you think of the worst, until your friend lets you know what could really be happening.

Word count: 1.5k

CW: NSFW and adult content, Alpha Asahi, omega Reader, unprotected sex, mention of pregnancy, Asahi in a Rut, knotting, biting/marking, oral (f!receiving) and fluff at the end

“I can’t see you this week” Asahi’s voice sounded from the phone, “how come? Are you sick?” You questioned and you heard him sigh, “more or less, I just can’t see you… I have to go” he said before saying his goodbyes and hanging up.

You sat with your friend at a café and whined about how your boyfriend must be falling out of love for you. “This is probably the reason why he never marked me” you whined as you rested your head on the table, she nodded and sighed. Your friend knew you were probably overreacting and that Asahi was probably just worried about something, after all she had knew your since you were both kid and Asahi since high school, heck she was the one who introduced you to him. “What exactly did he say?” She patted your head and you looked out at her with a quivering lip, “he said, he can’t see me this week… and when I asked why and if he was sick, he said, more or less and basically hung up on me” your lip quivered more as you explained, your friend hummed and nodded before thinking for a moment. “Has he been acting different this passed week?” She asked and you nodded “yes he’s been so much more kind and caring then usual” you said while looking at your coffee cup, “oh I see what it is… he’s on his rut this week” she smiled, but you only shook your head. “He’s never had a rut before, that can’t be it, besides why wouldn’t he tell me if it was just a rut” you shrugged and your friend just facepalmed, “his probably had some issues with his suppressants and I don’t think he told you because maybe he doesn’t want to hurt or scare you” she said and it all made so much more sense then whatever you were thinking, “what can I do?” You ask and she stays silent for a moment, thinking through her next words. “Well you can either stay away, like he wants you to… or you can go help him through it, which I personally think is a bad idea” your friend said as she silently prayed you’d listen to her advice and stay away from him, you quickly stood up and turned to leave. “Woah woah… where are you going?” Your friend quickly stood as well, “I’m going to help him, Asahi has seen me at my worst and helped me… I’m only doing the same” you smiled and continued to walk out of the café, now with your friend following you. “Heats are not the same as ruts… Omegas only get needed on their heats, Alphas in rut can get rough and kinda Possessive” she expected and you looked at her, “he’d never hurt me, I’m going to help as much as he’ll let me” you said with a stern expression, your friend only sighed and Motioned for you to leave.

After going home and packing a overnight bag, you made your way to Asahi’s house. Standing at Asahi’s door knocking on his roughly, you heard somebody muttering and heavy foot steps, suddenly the door swung open “look I’m not in the mood for visi-“ once seeing you Asahi stopped talking and took a step back, “I asked you not to come and see me” he placed a hand over his face, “I know your on your rut and I want to help” you smiled stepping into his house. Asahi quickly recovered from any shock he was experiencing and closed the door before grabbing your arm and looking you dead in the eye, “are you sure? There’s no turning back after this” he grunted and you nodded. That was all Asahi needed to drag you to his bedroom, you had already started going weak in the knees from Asahi’s scent but once stepping into his room your legs gave out and you felt a thick layer of slick fill your underwear, you moan at the smell and tried to move to the bed but your legs couldn’t move. Asahi dragged you on to the bed by your arm he had a hold on, he then slipped of his tank top and sweat pants, leaving him in his boxes. You looked down and saw his enlarged red tip peeking out of the top of his underwear, you noticed that Asahi’s bulge looked bigger then usual and you gulped in slight panic, but quickly shook it off. “Strip” is all Asahi huffed out as he watched you with an intense lust, you instantly pulled your clothes off. Asahi leant down and sniff at your slicked entrance, before taking a long lick at his and purring in delight, you hummed and were pleased that your alpha enjoyed your taste. As Asahi continues to lick at your most sensitive place, and soon an intense feeling to want to please him came over you, Asahi’s domineering presents and scent was effecting you more then it ever had, sure Asahi was never that dominant however now was different.

You moan and sighed as Asahi continues to lick you, the was his tongue lapped at up all your juices and his nose rub your clit made you desperate, and you could feel yourself slipping, “alpha…” you moan and Asahi instantly pulled away from you, only to slid his underwear off and you looked at how if large member sprung free, it was larger then usual, “why is it bigger?” You gasped in surprise. Asahi blushed “it gets bigger in the middle of ruts” he chuckled and pull you towards the edge of the bed, he swiped his swollen tip through your folder gathering all your slick into his member.

Asahi held your hips up and slowly pushing into you, the stretch was way more then you were use to, however once he was fully inside, you could tell his alpha took over, Asahi’s hips rapidly snapped back and forth with force as he gripped the bed desperately for support and leverage. Asahi thrusts stated to hit your g-spot, as you slowly got used to his length and girth, you felt yourself completely slip letting your omega take over.

The need to please your alpha had increased tenfold, “alpha, do you feel good… alpha use your omega… knot your omega” you cried out and gripped his back, Asahi growled and licked your neck. Asahi then flipped you onto your stomach and continued to rapidly thrust in and out you, in this new position you started to reach your climax faster and soon you began to tighten around Asahi, which made it difficult for him to fully thrust in you. Asahi grunted out an incoherent sentence as you felt his knot begin to swell and catch on your entrance, “omega take alpha’s knot” Asahi groaned as he pushed his knot in you and stay there as he came. You moan at the fullness your alpha gave you and began to relax, until you felt Asahi move your hair away from your neck and bite down on the back of your neck, excitement rage inside your chest as the sensation of being claimed completely by Asahi came over you. Asahi pulled away and you turned your head “your turn” you opened your mouth ready to bite him, he then lent his head down so you could bite the side of his neck.

The next few days went by in a blur… you woke up to the smell of omelets and toast, you got up and felt sharp pain in your lower back, but still walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen only to see Asahi standing at the counter finishing plate up the food. “It smells good… how are you feeling?” You smiled and sit at the floor table in Asahi’s living room, he walking into the living room and placed the plate down, “I feel much better” he walked back out for a moment and came back in holding a plastic bag. Asahi took out two bottles of juice, then a small box of medicine “I should tell you, I wasn’t in the right head space and because of that I didn’t wear protection… so here, you can take this” he placed the medicine in front of you. “If I take this what will happen?” You ask and Asahi look down at his lap, “it’ll flush out system, and that’ll stop any pregnancy’s from happening” he hummed and you looked down at your clothed stomach, rubbing a hand over it.

“And if I don’t take it?” You said nervously chewing on your lips, “You’ll most likely fall pregnant, then I’ll find us a bigger house, we’ll get married and be parents” Asahi beamed and looked up at you, you smiled and put the medicine back in the bag and began eating. “Now that we’re mates, I want children… three… no two kids… a boy and girl” you smiled with a mouth full of toast and Asahi chuckled and hugged you, “well I’ll look for a big house with a good backyard, and I’ll make sure we live near a park” he hummed and held you close as you both laugh and planned for your future.

Kinktober Masterlist

Day 16 - Erwin Smith: Size Difference.

Day 18 - Kento Nanami: All nighter.

[thethirdtriplet]

Title: Mentor Tim

So we all know how similar Tim is to Bruce, I feel like as Tim gets older he promises himself not to become like him, in regards to his closed off-ness and anti-social behavior, gets therapy (boy was that something else), matures as a person and learns to take care of himself properly (not everyone has an Alfred lying around y’know).

So older Tim, who does not want to be Batman (who does at this point?), and considers Red Tornado (Aka; the only adult who really cared) his idol, makes an intellectual decision.

To mentor 10+ young vigilantes, that are basically neglected or ignored by their mentors, that he met once on a mission, apparently they’re the new Young Justice members (why do all the unwanted ones end up there, seriously, has everyone learned nothing??).

It’s not that he planned to mentor the young superheroes, but he couldn’t really ignore them when they took to him like little ducklings to water all because he was nice to them.

The were very undertrained and uncoordinated, and in desperate need of guidance, and Tim who has caused or been apart of some of the craziest shit known to man has a lot of knowledge to spare:

Tim: Leo, for the love of god. Put. That. Down. Number one rule of dealing with magical artifacts or magic in general is don’t touch it and run, don’t walk away if it starts to glow.

—————————

Tim: Keith, seriously dude, if you need any new equipment, swords, knives, anything at all, just tell me. Y’know what I can set it up with one phone call, hold on.

—————————

Tim: Peter, if that jerk at school talks to you like that again I give you my permission to beat his ass, I don’t care what your school or “mentor” have to say, they clearly know nothing about teenagers.

—————————

Tim: Of course you can skip training next week for your recital Sofia, and actually, I cancelled training for everyone when they told me they all wanted to go to support you, thanks for inviting me by the way, I can’t wait.

—————————

Tim: Oh, you’ve had an argument with your parent, Nick? Hold on just a sec.

Tim: Yeah, I just freed my schedule so we could have the whole day to ourselves, I remember those movies you told me you wanted to marathon, let’s go watch them in the big screen room, bundle ourselves in the softest blankets and eat a sh- heck ton of ice cream, while we talk about it, if you feel like it, of course.

—————————

Tim: I noticed how much extensive energy you have even after a full training session, Mateo, so I thought you and I could stay and spar, even after everyone’s done. I’ve brought new training equipment for you to try and researched a few new techniques that correlate with your abilities.

—————————

Tim: Don’t worry about not being able to speak, Amara, I know plenty of sign, in many languages, in fact.

—————————

Tim: *on a phone call*

Tim: What do you mean you’re in a burning building?

Tim: What do you mean you set it on fire?!

Tim: Send me your location, Amber, I’ll be there in ten, no- five.

—————————

And that’s how the hero community noticed how the newly proclaimed Young Justice mentor Red Robin nowadays often had one, if not all, of his ducklings kids students standing proudly next to him.

Bonus:

Tim: Red, I am so sorry for all the years you had to put up with my bullshit.

Tim: I’m basically the only adult- no, person, who cares about them!

Tim: I don’t know how they’ve been alive for so long!

Red Tornado: You are forgiven, Tim, although I must admit, it is quite satisfying that you know of my pain.

Tim, with haunted eyes: You have no idea.

Part 2??

[tuliptired]

Ello! Hope Im not a bother, but i was hoping to make a one-shot request? I looked around and it looks like you are still taking requests as of the moment, very sorry if I missed something.

Anyways, if its not too much trouble, could you write Egon Spengler x Baker Y/N? I think that would be a fun dynamic!

If thats not to your liking, what about Egon x Shy Y/N?

Love your works, I check the ghostbusters tag daily to see if youve written anything new. Thank you so much, love ya have a great day and night!!!

How Sweet It Is (To be Loved by You)

Pairing: Egon Spengler/Baker!GN!Reader

It's never too much trouble...no idea if I've used this gif before

did yall hear about the SNL biopic btw oh my gahh...

Better formatting on Ao3! (italics)

Your relationship started with a cupcake. As the story goes, told lovingly by your now mutual friends, there was a bust at a retirement home, and one of the caregivers insisted on sending the boys home with a treat in addition to the hefty bill. Demanded, actually, practically shoving a metal tin full of pastry into Egon’s hands as he attempted to discreetly sneak away.

“Jackpot,” Peter leaned over, happily surprised as nimble fingers opened the lid. The smell of sugary sweets wafted through the car, prompting Winston to extend his hand to the backseat, palm soon full of muffin. Egon was patient, letting everyone take something for themselves, before finally deciding on a blue-iced chocolate cupcake, sweet tooth waiting to be satisfied.

“Where’d this come from?” Ray, Peter, and Winston stood in the kitchen, confused at the spread of different colored boxes and containers. Upon further inspection, they were full of even more cupcakes, each the same blue iced chocolate flavor. Egon sat with his hands folded on the countertop, unfazed at their reactions to his display like any true man of science would be.

He made a tick mark on a long list of names, clipboard somewhere in the organized, delicious chaos. “If you must know, I’m testing every bakery in the area to find the one I ate that evening. I’ve yet to find it.”

Ray shrugged, taking note of just how many locations he had procured food from. “Not the weirdest thing you’ve done for a result,” he admitted.

“Good food’ll do that to you,” Winston laughed, Peter reaching over to gauge how mad Egon would get if he tried to take a sample from one of his possible matches.

Egon didn’t look up, flipping to the next page. “Go ahead, those are the rejects. They'd end up in the trash, anyway.”

Peter peeled away the paper, going through the motions of ripping the bottom of the cake and placing it over the top of the frosting. “Rejects.” he parroted plainly. “What’re you gonna do when you find the right store? Stand in the window?”

He glared up at him above his glasses. “No, I’ll buy a half dozen and go on with my day,” he unfolded a wax lined box, “so if you could leave me to my research?” Research being, going down a line of cupcakes. They each exchanged glances, before filing out. Egon could be just as tenacious as everyone else, when he felt like it.

Except, that tenacity wavered in the face of unfamiliarity. The only reason Egon was willing to go in your bakery to begin with is because the others had forced him. “Don’t be a baby,” as Venkman had put it. He finally found the match, in fact he had found it a few days ago. But he took a glance at the bustling establishment on the day in which he set out on his own, and got cold feet. Especially when he accidentally locked eyes with the smiling artisan while he just stood in the window.

His friends had managed to shove him towards the counter without a second thought. The same person he’d seen through the tall window was behind the counter now, greeting them all kindly. The bandana you had used to keep your hair in check must’ve been failing to do its job, evident by the flour near your temple, caught in a few strands. Egon’s fingers twitched.

Peter flicked him on the lower back when he failed to respond like a typical customer, making Egon come-to and clear his throat. “May I get a half dozen chocolate?” he asked robotically.

“You may,” you grinned at his grammar, “but, chocolate what?”

Egon’s ability to speak stopped short at his misstep, unable to let out anything but unintelligible stammers, and Egon never stammers. “Cupcakes, please,” Ray spoke up for him, catching wind.  

You nodded, moving to the display rack to place his order in a smaller, blue box. Peter wasn’t content with how smoothly this interaction was going as he watched on with a bored expression. “Funny story, actually,” he caught your attention through the framework.

You laughed at how it made him look like he was in a horizontal jail cell. “Yeah?”

Peter raised Egon’s stiff arm for him at the elbow. “We walk in one night and catch Egon with at least 20 different cupcakes, trying to find yours ‘cause he missed it so much.” he regaled.

He may have caught you blushing. Were you blushing? He shouldn’t stare at business owners when they were just trying to work. “Well,” you started folding the corners of the parcel, “assuming you liked them- and you guys are pretty important to the city…” You held them out to him with two hands. “Just take them. No charge.”

Egon felt like there was smoke rising from the top of his head, or the espresso machine, as he shuffled out, and you leaned over the counter to call after him: “Come back anytime, for whatever! On the house!” 

The rest happened slowly, but surely, and you enjoyed it thoroughly. On an earlier morning, you and your pubescent employee were handling the typical rush you got around breakfast. Between prepping, a small burn from the oven, packing orders, ringing people up, and a quick trip to the corner-grocery for more milk, you finally had a spare minute to breathe, both hands pressing into the counter.

A blur of beige and a trail of smog put an end to your mini-relaxation, and you hurried over to the door. “Stantz! Spengler!” you beckoned before they could turn the corner.

Like children, they found their way to your storefront, though Egon looked rather apprehensive with a used trap dangling from his gloved fist. “Good morning, guys,” you urged them inside, “did you eat yet?”

“We really should get going.” Egon said after Ray greeted you. Most of the sickly smell from the trap was left outside, and it was too covered up by the scent of sugar and warmth that everyone but you swore clung to the bakery for you to worry about it driving away customers.

You ignored his protests, crossing behind the counter. “Eat in the morning or you’ll crash in the afternoon,” you started pouring two cups of hot coffee.

“There’s no need-” you interrupted with a hand. “We’re fine,” he continued anyway.

Ray’s stomach betrayed his friend’s wishes. “Something small wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Listen to your friend, Egon.” you warned, adding a bit of whipped cream to both cups to literally sweeten the deal. “You need to eat.”

He frowned, but you didn’t care much. “We have a Class lll in our hands, now is hardly the time for-” you cut him off again, stuffing his mouth with a blueberry danish. As he annoyedly chewed, you procured a paper bag from the back, wrapping his hand around the handle.

“Too bad I already packed for everyone,” you patted his knuckles when he acquiesced, catching sight of what was inside with a small smile. “You’re crabby when you’re hungry.”

Egon opened his mouth to respond, but the contraption in his left hand started beeping. Are they supposed to beep? You’d never seen them do so before. It seemed as if the two experts themselves hadn’t either. 

You stood on your toes to give him a parting kiss, Ray grabbing both paper cups in the meantime before you could start shooing them out. “Go, go- don’t let that thing loose in here. And swing by later, okay?”

He followed your lips when you pulled away, but the ominous beeping drove him to the door and down the street. You sighed to yourself, already missing him. None of the regulars in your store seemed to pay any mind to the local celebrities- or the weapons they had strapped to themselves, as Egon floated in and out during different parts of his day at least once a week.

Egon knocked on the glass door, soft light and music slipping through as he got your attention. When you let him in, the distinct whiff of cookies enveloped him like the warm temperature of your little shop. It was his favorite part of visiting you, apart from actually getting to see you. “How was today?” he spoke over the soft jazz that you apologetically turned down.

“Better,” you were about to run a Crisco covered hand through the front of your hair before you stopped yourself, “better.” Egon only then noticed how many cookies you had managed to make for having only closed an hour ago. “I have more in the oven,” you said from the back wall with the smaller front oven while you hurriedly took out a hot tray with a mitt and put a cool one in.

It wasn’t just cookies, but brownies, sweetbreads, and cinnamon rolls. “Are you…restocking?”

You laughed, a quarter manically and another quarter incredulously, and started to peel cooked pastry off of baking sheets. “If anything, we have too much stock.” you paused your fervor, frowning at your display case’s abundance. “I’ll send you home with some- give them to your clients or eat them or something.” 

You were barely done shutting the sliding glass when you popped up, clapping your hands once and frankly startling him. “Pies! I know what I need to make now! I’ll make some pies and maybe a cake and we can head home.” Before you could disappear into the kitchen, he stepped in your way, two soothing hands on your shoulders.

“You’re stress baking.” 

Egon couldn’t hide his amusement at your familiar despondent expression, as if you were coming down from a high. “Was it that obvious?”

“Somewhat,” he stroked up and down your arm, steering you to the stool you kept tucked away behind the register and pulling up a chair for himself on the other side. “What’s wrong?”

He enjoyed the chairs you had because of their structural variety, and the fact they didn’t make him feel like a giant. 

You slumped your head into your since-dried hands, groaning out of frustration. “It’s just the season, I guess. A ton of people come by, bringing their dumb boyfriends-” you paused, realizing what you said, “no offense.”

“None taken.”

“-And they come looking at our stuff to see if we’re good enough for, like, baby showers and weddings and all that.”

A car passed by on the street, definitely above the city’s speed limit for a business area. “I assume that’s a good thing?”

“It’s great,” you sat up, “we want people to pick us. But it means everything has to look great, and we have to get ready for half a million custom orders.”

That would be a partial reason for the sudden uptick in inventory, combined with the pressure to make a good first impression. But you were working so aimlessly hard that you looked crazed, all by yourself. “Your employees aren’t willing to help?” Egon questioned.

You stood, addressing the heaps of different cookies, the only creation of yours without a home. “They are. But they’re kids- I can’t work them that hard. It’s probably illegal, too. They won’t be around for the next couple of days anyway.”

He could sympathize with your plight- backed into a seasonal corner that business owners just had to get used to. “I’m sorry,” Egon offered, “I’m not as skilled in your trade, but is there anything I can do to make it easier?”

You smiled your first genuine smile since he arrived. “There is, actually,” your tone was excited as you moved to the freezer, “just let me finish these and I’ll fill you in.”

Egon would’ve stopped you from continuing to try to work, but he relaxed when you brought out pre-prepared bags of icing and miscellaneous confectionaries, knowing that decoration was the more relaxing aspect of the art. 

He both sat in comfortable quiet as you put all your focus into icing, piping, and arranging.  It was pleasant, knowing that you had something so ardent that you cared so deeply about, even if it was dismissed as a mere hobby while you were close to collapsing to exhaustion in the bakery you financed on your own. It was a mix of career and craft- one of the many reasons he had grown to give you his utmost respect.

You were eventually done, making the task of embellishing countless treats look effortless. You handed him a cookie, which he gladly took. “I need you to be honest,” you counted on his affinity for sweets. He took a bite, surveying the dessert after the initial pleasure your baking always brought him.

“Raspberry compote,” Egon took a second, “and coffee icing.”

“Good job!” you scribbled something down on a spare slip of paper after springing the register drawer open. “Rating?”

“10/10”

“Honest.”

“That is my honesty. But if you wanted the unweighted scale, 7/10. The two flavors balance each other very well.”

You passed him another, which he promptly ate without being asked to. “On the crumbly side. Is that intentional?”

A nod. “A little less butter than usual. Old ladies tend to like those.”

He put a hand on his chin contemplatively. “6/10- marmalade. A softer version would get a higher placement, it would be a shame to lose interest from those who don’t fit the demographic.”

You copied down what he said, seemingly happy with any sort of feedback. “And here I thought I’d have to help you cross the street.”

The night went on like that for a while, and Egon grinned to himself at the parallels he had only just noticed- another mix of career and craft, now inquiry and indulgence. You looked like a proper scientist- or, a food scientist, scrawling down notes and numbers that he’s sure only you would be able to decode. He felt the corners of his face dimple in a familiar smile while he watched you- something he’d found himself doing much, much more.

“What?” you raised an eyebrow, suspicious of his joy.

“Nothing,” Egon excused himself, “you just look incredibly nice.”

 You squeezed the hand that he rested on the counter, silently appreciative. “Thanks- for that, and for helping me out. Let me get you home before you barf.”

He’d learned to live with the indecencies, helping you tidy up the best he could without breaching the system of organization you had. When you returned from the back with your personal things, he let you loop your arm around his for the semi-short journey home.

Egon only let you go so you could lock the door, and he stared at your back for the entire time that you did. “If I were having a baby shower, I’d come here.”

There were practically stars in your eyes. “Really?” 

“Really.” You planted a gratuitous kiss to the side of his face, before setting off towards his apartment.

Over the course of a few days, your boyfriend showed up earlier in order to take you into work, and keep you company as you tried to quell the impending anxiety. When regulars faded out and new faces came in- possible clients, you assured him with a non convincing tone that he had a job, too. If your ego was bigger, you’d be bragging about the compliments and inquiries your store got, not to mention the referrals to friends regarding special upcoming events. But, entrepreneurship had taught you to be humble, so you were resigned to spilling it all over a phone call to the firehouse.

One morning, you forced Egon out before anyone could arrive, asserting that he had a day off and he should find a way to relax. He asserted that this was how he relaxed, but you had a key to the front door and he didn’t, so that solved that. 

Not long after he was gone, you were hastily punching his number in, bouncing on your heels and out of breath.

“Hello?"

“Rich girl- eloping- needs a wedding cake- lots of money,” you forced out like you were out of air, already seeing dollar signs in tandem with the minutes you were losing. “But I have a crazy favor to ask.”

Very soon, “OPEN” was flipped to “CLOSED (sorry)” and you put on your serious business apron. Egon stood behind you, unsure of what to do as you jumped from here to there, double checking that you had absolutely everything you needed.

You only stopped when you realized that he wasn’t in the proper attire. “C’mon, Spengler,” you chastised him while cinching the strings of a smock around his waist.

“Game plan,” you led him to the back where all the industrial sized equipment was, “three tiers, green and pink, white cake. She gave me creative freedom, so I’m kinda flying blind.”

Egon’s eyes were on you as you laid out a few large bowls. “Have you ever…made a wedding cake on such short notice? I assumed they take days.”

“They do! And they’re the one thing I swore to never sell!” He looked disappointed in you, but you weren’t fazed, grabbing both of his hands. “$1,500,” Egon’s eyes widen as you continued, “think of what that could buy.”

He pushed up the bridge of his glasses like a flustered schoolboy. “That’s…a lot of copper wiring.”

“So many new mixers! And without the down payment! That’s why we need to start while we already have the time.”

Realistically, it was more of you starting everything while Egon was subjected to measuring or throwing away eggshells. But, you eventually gave him bigger responsibilities, as there was no way you’d be done in time for the impromptu-wedding if you worked one-by-one. 

You turned from what you were doing after instructing him to mix the batter for the top layer, being met with his bare forearms, dress shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“What?” Egon noticed your commotion halting. “Am I overmixing?” 

You didn’t answer, still staring at his toned arms. He should help out more often- your stand mixer cutting out on you must’ve been a blessing in disguise. Your blatant ogling was cut short when he stopped his ministrations, resting the whisk against the lip of the bowl.

“Don’t get distracted.” He tried to sound condemnatory, but it was hard to feel scolded when the scholar had on one of your teenaged employee’s spare pink bibs around his front and he was almost bent over the edge of the counter space in the midst of his focus.

You could breathe a little easier when the timer went off for the tiniest layer’s completion in the biggest oven. You took the searing pan out carefully, and your worry spiked again when you saw how dark the unfrosted dessert was along the top. You went through a list of things that might’ve gone wrong-  was the oven at the right temperature? Setting? You definitely let it bake for the right time. It wasn’t until you saw a pair of little cylinders, tucked away in the havoc, that you put two and two together.

“Which one of these did you use?”

Egon looked like a mix of confused and concerned. “This one, baking soda.”

That’s how he got put out your kitchen for a considerable amount of time, until he knocked at the round window separating you both.

“Are you sorry?”

A pause. “Not anymore than I was 20 minutes ago.”

“I’m locking the door.”

He was allowed back in after a long and rehearsed apology. Soon, all tiers were baked, except for the base, and you were aching all over. The whole cake process never got any less demanding on you.

Egon must’ve seen how you stretched your arm across your chest before you tried to continue on anything. “Are you feeling okay?” 

“I’ll be fine- just sore.” you answered truthfully, before slightly jumping at the feeling of hands wrapping around your middle.

“Take a break,” he herded you to a folding chair you kept in there- the only chair. You were slotted in between his knees, thoroughly confused. He only got like this every blue moon.

It did feel great to be off your feet for a second, despite your cushy sneakers. “What’re you getting at?” 

His strong hands made work of your tense biceps. “Nothing lascivious. I just think you should save your energy for the important part,” you stifled a noise at his doctoral tone and the way his thumbs kneaded at the space in between your shoulder blades, “and you’ve been working very hard.”

“Baking makes you a freak,” you scoffed, but hedonistically let him continue to dote on you.

Soon it was time to keep moving, attractive masseuse or otherwise. You put Egon in charge of coloring the buttercream while you ran out to the store for the second time in only a few days, making a mental note to use some of the bride-to-be’s payment to keep a consistent supply of the little things.

When you returned, though, it wasn’t as you had expected. You picked up the metal bowl full of neon icing incredulously. “I said green, not snot!”

“I made green,” he didn’t budge, not seeing how gaudy this would look in the middle of a reception hall.

You pushed a finger in between his brows. “You’re such a guy,” you remarked, regardless of your own gender, as you hassled him out of the way. “Watch.” 

With a bit of red, the bright green dulled into a paler color, fit for a wedding. “Can I trust you with pink?” you asked as if he was a child.

Egon’s expression was unreadable. “No promises.”

Half of the green was shoveled into piping bags when he was finished, presenting the baby pink mixture to you like a project would be presented to a teacher. “That’s better,” you started, taking the bowl while he kept the spatula. You’d assumed that Egon was going to wash it or scrape off the excess or something, but your eyes squeezed shut as something cold and tacky hit your nose.

Frosting, pink frosting. His audacity. You took the green spatula, getting him back on the cheek. That led to him getting you back on the forehead, ear, chin, and eventually some strays ended up in the corner of your mouth, which he was more than happy to take care of. Baking really made him a freak, you thought. You probably shouldn’t be kissing over someone’s wedding memorabilia, but you shortly noticed that was the icing for each tier and its decoration. You lost an hour cleaning and starting from scratch on the buttercream, steering clear of each other in a respective corner each.

You had another hour to eat a late dinner while each tier chilled in the freezer, setting the white icing you painstakingly leveled to their surface area. When you returned, it was time for the assembly, the second most dreaded process. “I’m scared,” you confessed, just about to push down the first dowel.

Egon got eye level with the top, squinting. “You’re just about perfect.”

Your nerves got the better of you. “How can you tell?” 

“I calculated.”

He was to keep calculating until all three cakes were secure on each other, bringing on the actually grueling part: decoration. You could design anything easily, after years of practice on your skills and ability to freehand- but a wedding cake was just so intimidating. That was part of the reason you vowed to never try again, how easy failure was staring you down in the form of little white fondant flowers. Egon let you take the reins on this, disappearing from your narrow field of vision. You honed in your knowledge of swirls, mini roses, and the drape style that was still in fashion among traditional couples. You were bent in all sorts of ways to make sure every bit of sugar that left the tip of the plastic bag came out perfect, for a perfect pair of newlyweds. Or newlyweds with perfect pocketbooks.

Time got away from you when the final detail was placed, and you stepped away like it was a bomb. “Is it done? Are we done?” you looked for confirmation. “How does it look?”

Egon’s torso stopped you from running off somewhere. “It looks perfect.”

The giant thing was stowed away to wait until you were scheduled to drop it off the next morning, and a weight was taken off your chest. You let the faucet run over materials, mind somewhere else with the rush of running water.

“It’s so sweet when it’s all done,” you spoke up, scrubbing crusted batter off of a tin, “weddings feel so magical.” 

You thought back to the agreement you made with your boyfriend of a handful of years: nix a big ceremony, celebrate with friends when the time felt right. The time always felt right to you; you’d drag him to the courthouse at the drop of a hat. Perhaps there was an even right-er time out there, written somewhere in your future.

Egon wiped down all the surfaces. “I agree.” he voiced from across the counter, taking a pause. “You’re not…angry with me? For taking as long as I am?”

You laughed at that, drying your hands. You crossed over to him, a hand on his chest. “Not at all. I trust you.” He had ditched the tie at some point after you had to make a new batch of icing. “If you’re offering…”

“Give me some more time to make it special.”

You brushed away some of his hair that had come loose in the heat of your scullery. “How much more time?” your voice was soft.

Egon thought about it for a moment. “What’s 5 more years?” He laughed heartily at the groan you let out, resting his head on yours.

“Really?” your voice broke over the phone. “I’m sorry…I’ve never- I don’t know,” you forced yourself to take a shallow breath, “I’ll work on getting your deposit back.”

You didn’t know what to think or feel when you ended the call, but thoughts of wasted hours, materials, lost profit, all flooded your mind as you attempted to calm yourself. You rested your head underneath where the phone was mounted on the wall, rubbing at your temples to sedate an oncoming headache.

“What happened?” Egon asked at your back, with you again in the early morning as he scored another day off. You didn’t turn to face him, trying your best to blink back embarrassing tears.

“She canceled. We made the cake for nothing- there’s no wedding, I-” 

Egon was on a knee, in the middle of your homely bakery. Your frustration evolved into pure confusion. “What’re you-”

There was a blue, velvet box in his hands with a glinting band inside of it. Before he could get a word out, you were on the floor too, tears free flowing. “You can’t do this now,” you clutched the fabric of his pants when he moved to hold you. “I look horrible.”

His free hand dried your tears, though more would keep on appearing in their wake. “I’m sorry this is so overdue.”

Your hands gently held onto his jaw to know this was real. “When was the right time?” 

“A long, long time ago. I just needed to find a way to make it special.” He looked hesitant before continuing, “I hope you don’t mind having made your own wedding cake.”

You blinked. “You’re the worst!” you joked exasperatedly, falling with him into a hug on the floors you were happy you mopped. “That was all you?”

“Why do you suppose her down payment was a multiple of 18?”

“They didn’t.” 

“Consider it a group gift, I suppose.” Egon smiled underneath you. You sat in the giddy silence of two people, soon to be wed, when he gingerly asked the question

“Will you?”

Your boyfriend- fiancé, went through so much trouble to make the moment one you could look back on happily. Who could refuse?

“I will.”

[sashaisready]

This Must Be The Place: Chapter 9 - Say goodnight

Biker!Bucky x Femme Reader

Back at your beloved late grandmother's home to pack up her house, you have a run-in with the town's biker gang 'The Howling Commandos' and find yourself entangled with the metal armed President.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Some smut…insecurities in reader

I’m back! I’ve been a bit caught up with work and parenting so things have been a little crazy. Hoping I should have more time coming up to dedicate to this! Apologies in advance…this is a little smut/fluff to warm us up before we get into the angst next chapter (I’m sorry) As always, your reblogs and comments mean the world – it’s lovely to see people engaging with his story!

You slugged him hard on the shoulder, something you seemed to be doing a lot lately.

“Really? That’s all you have to say?” you scolded, still slightly breathless.

Annoyed, you tensed up and began pushing against his chest to prise yourself off him. You saw the slight look of fear on his face as he wrapped his arms around you in what was essentially a bear hug – keeping himself inside of you.

“Hey, whoa! It was a joke. I’m sorry…I guess that was all kinda intense and I didn’t really know what to say,” he admitted, looking a little sheepish. “I meant to lighten the mood, not piss you off, believe it or not. That’s the last thing I want, okay?”

You softened a little as he kissed you again. It was true, despite his charm he was often clumsy with his words and misread the room. He didn’t seem to do it on purpose…so you let it go. This time, anyway.

“Alright…fine,” you relented as your muscles relaxed again. “But you don’t always have to…fill the silence, y’know? Sometimes…you can just be”.

He nodded. “I know, I’m trying,” he said gently as he moved a strand of hair from your face. “But look…that was…amazing. Just…wow”.

He laughed and you laughed too. “Wow is much better,” you giggled. “I can work with wow…”

*

The two of you continued to ‘wow’ one another over the upcoming weeks. Your place. His place. Once or twice in the back office at the bar (dangerously close to being caught when Peter knocked that second time…and Bucky angrily told him he was too busy doing the books when actually you were on your knees in front of him…)

His touch was addictive. You didn’t think you’d ever get enough. Even little things like him subtly brushing a finger over your lower back as he passed, or leaning over and pressing himself into you as he went to grab a drink from the bar, seemed to get you going. He knew exactly what he was doing too, shooting you a little wink or smirk each time. He liked to keep you on edge.

Neither of you had raised if you were going to go ‘public’ with your little arrangement. You didn’t want to bring it up, not wanting to appear needy or to want a ‘what are we?’ type conversation. You did tell Wanda and Vis, there were your only real friends here outside of the MC and you didn’t like the idea of lying to them about how you were spending your evenings. They had been surprised, and Wanda had warned you to be careful – she told you Bucky’s reputation was based on two things – whatever sketchy shit he had going on behind the front of his businesses, and the copious amounts of women he landed. Neither of which was a shock to you, but you were grateful for her cautioning.

If you were honest, the secret nature of your relationship with Bucky was welcomed by you. Part of you felt a little self-conscious – like the MC would all think ‘oh, there goes another one…’ or view you differently because of it. Another silly girl getting entangled with Bucky…What else is new? Keeping things quiet meant you wouldn’t embarrass yourself when it unavoidably started to go wrong…

Plus, you didn’t really want to have to deal with any other women who had him on their radar, particularly Amber…

…Who wasn’t really around as much. Her friends still came by the bar, and she did too sometimes. But less and less so. Bucky hadn’t mentioned her, you weren’t sure if he had spoken to her or if she’d just moved on elsewhere. You didn’t think he would’ve brought you up with her, but maybe she sensed he was either pulling away or spending time with another girl.

You’d hoped she had just met a nice guy and had moved on from the MC…but there was a moment one evening where you were pouring a beer at the bar and Bucky had leaned over under the guise of picking up a box at your feet, only to whisper something salacious in your ear as he passed. You’d giggled and grinned, elbowing him away playfully, and as you looked back up you had locked eyes with Amber from across the room. You’d given her a small smile, but she just stared right back. You felt oddly under fire, as if caught out, despite the fact anyone watching the same interaction most likely wouldn’t have batted an eyelid. It was as if Amber was in tune with Bucky in a way the others weren’t, especially when a rival was concerned, and she saw through your bullshit immediately.

You’d barely seen her since that night, but maybe that was for the best. You weren’t interested in beefing with another woman over a man, especially not that woman. And that man…

Aside from Amber, the only other person you wondered who might not be fooled was Steve. He and Bucky were best friends, after all. More like brothers, as Bucky had explained to you. They had grown up together. Steve had been with Bucky through it all, been dutifully by his side when he recovered from losing his arm, ran the MC with him and stuck with him no matter what.

Even if Bucky hadn’t told Steve about you, he seemed to be more aware than some of the others. His stoic silence often was down to him surveying the scene, taking everything in. A mouse couldn’t fart in the bar without Steve knowing about it. He was the eyes and ears of the MC. He had never said anything directly to you, but there had been a few looks he gave you and Bucky that seemed pointed. His sky blue eyes said much more than he did. But maybe you were just projecting…

Thankfully, everyone else was as oblivious as you needed them to be.

Once, as you sat with a few club members to wind down after closing, Bucky had brazenly dragged his hand over your bare thigh under the table. It had been a warm and stuffy night, so you’d done your shift in a pair of denim shorts and a t-shirt. You’d discreetly raised an eyebrow at him, which quickly evolved into an expression of controlled panic as he trailed his finger across your skin before casually unzipping your fly and making his way in, moving past your underwear. You’d bitten your lip to stay quiet as he found your clit and began working you over, all the while chatting away to Bruce like nothing was happening. You tried to bat him away, but he kept coming back, and you soon caught on that people would notice if you tried any harder and made a scene as a result. You quickly understood he was counting on using your embarrassment to silence you.

And, well, damn him - it did feel good…

He didn’t look over at you once as he continued, but his fingers didn’t let up as you began to feel the familiar heat build within. You hated to admit to yourself how much it excited you. You knew how wet you were, how close you were. He knew it too, based on how he began to adjust his pace and pressure. Your entire body tensed as you realised to your horror, that in spite your discomfort, your body was about to betray you and give you a very public orgasm. As the feeling bloomed and the heat swelled, you took a large sip of your water and glanced downwards in an attempt to cover up any potential facial expressions that might give you away. You choked on the mouthful, spitting a little out down your chin as your climax hit, your shoulders shuddering.

“You okay?” Sam asked from across the table as he looked at you with concern.

You nodded bashfully, “Uh, yeah, sorry,” you croaked – still dazed and a little out of it, “Choked on my water”.

“You gotta go easy, doll,” Bucky chimed in smugly as he withdrew his hand and subtly zipped up your shorts.

You glared at him with an expressionless face, but your eyes told him all he needed to know as he defiantly smirked back at you. He then retained eye contact as he appeared to ‘absent-mindedly’ suck on the tip of his finger and pretended to listen to Nat’s conversation with Sam. You managed to suppress a squeak as you felt the warmth rush to your cheeks.

Later, to pay him back for his little stunt, you angrily rode him back at his place and edged him until he was a whiny mess begging for release. Which you gladly gave him (eventually). Then you were even. It wasn’t often you took charge with him, but you knew he enjoyed it when you did. Just as much as he enjoyed when you were the babbling wreck.

That seemed to be a large part of your dynamic, always trying to one-up each other and ‘win’. It was thrilling, exciting. It probably wasn’t healthy…but you didn’t care. This wasn’t serious anyway. It was just fun. Someone to spend the time with in-between sorting through Granny’s boxes and painting her walls. Someone to make you laugh and give you orgasms and kill time with at your bar job. Someone whose initial rule that you didn’t sleepover had lapsed when you both passed out after a particularly vigorous session. Someone whose arms you awoke in the following morning, who didn’t rag on you for sleeping over but instead kissed your crown and didn’t speak. Someone who laid with you and held you so tenderly that it silenced you, famously a smart mouth, you, too. Someone who you began to sleep with most nights, even when you weren’t working. Whose absence you felt when he wasn’t there, someone who you realised you slept better with alongside. Dreamless, deep sleep that actually felt restorative and restful and allowed you to wake feeling refreshed and ready for the day. Someone who in the early light of day would smile sleepily at you and kiss you, morning breath be damned, and pull you into him like you hadn’t just been sleeping in his arms for all those hours before.

Someone not serious.

Another time, late one night, he took you out on his bike. The feeling of the wind in your hair, the exhilaration of the speed, the warmth of his leather as you wrapped your arms around his waist…it helped you to understand why Bucky loved all of this so much. There was something very freeing about rocketing down the roads at top speeds, not shrouded in a box as you were in a car, just out in the air – free and uninhibited.

He drove you both to a hillside on the edge of town where you could see everything below. You’d sat on the grassy verge together and silently watched the lights of the buildings beneath you, thinking about all those people in their homes…going about their lives. Were they happy? Is this what they imagined their life would be?

Is this how you’d imagined yours?

Maybe.

He moved his hand over your own and kept it there, not speaking. You didn’t really need to speak when it came to Bucky. You did talk, sometimes late into the night – about your past, your passions, your disappointments and fears. He was easy to talk to, he didn’t always say the right thing but he listened intently. He remembered details and brought them up later. Being with him was just…easy. In silence or in noise.

You both sat there, hand in hand, time lost as you watched the lights below and the stars above. One by one the houses would go dark, the residents retiring to their beds as their home slept along with them. Unknowingly watched over by the two of you as you continued your silent observation. You could see Granny’s home in the distance, the porch lights on for your ease when you got home later. You wondered if Granny had ever been up here, if she’d seen her home the way you saw it now.

Bucky turned to you and smiled, leaning in and kissing you softly. Taking his time as his nose brushed against yours and the strands of his hair slipped out from behind his ears. If you’d dropped dead at that second, you knew you would be at peace.

Your stomach curled as you realised what this all meant. The inevitable fact you’d been hiding from yourself for some time.

You were in love with Bucky Barnes.

[mrsevans90]

Puppy Love

Captain Syverson x OFC Emma Miller Part 17

Summary: Austin Syverson has returned to Texas after retiring from the military and starts his own contracting business. Syverson is used to being alone and thinks he prefers it that way. While at work he stumbles upon an injured and abused puppy. When he meets the new veterinarian in town, Emma Miller, he is immediately smitten with her. It turns out Emma has some baggage of her own. Will they be able to make it work? Or is it just a case of fleeting puppy love?

Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Emma Miller 

Warnings: Fluff. Smut. Oral (F receiving), fingering, squirting, P in V intercourse, innuendos, language, romantic love making.

MINORS DNI! Must be 18+

I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own. 

This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading!

Part 16

After spending the day on the beach and in the ocean, I was getting mentally prepared for the big proposal tonight. I had no idea what I’m going to say to Emma, as verbal confessions of love were a bit of a struggle for me. I know without a doubt how I feel about her, but I just suck at putting all of the words together. I tend to show her how I feel, rather than say it which hasn’t steered me wrong yet but I wanted to make this perfect for her.

I told Emma that I had booked us a dinner tonight at sunset so to get all gussied up and be ready for a fancy meal. Emma showered first saying she wanted to do all sorts of shaving and exfoliating and needed some room. I trimmed up my beard before she was wrapped in the hotel’s bathrobe as she began drying her hair. I went to shower next and spent most of my shower trying to come up with the right combinations of words in my head but being distracted as Emma bent over and flipped her hair from side to side as she dried it. My cock twitched every time she did it because I could only think about how she does something similar when I’m taking her from behind. I willed my dick to calm down, hoping that we’d have an engagement to celebrate later tonight that I needed him to wait for. I tried my best to refocus on my upcoming declaration of love and said a prayer everything would go smoothly. We still had an hour until dinner so I laid down on the bed in my underwear and decided to check in with my grandparents and let them know that we had arrived safely and make sure Mills and Aika were behaving. Nana was so excited about having the dogs spend the week with them, that I swear she might try and keep them. 

“Hello?”

“Hey Nana. How’s it going?”

“Oh, I’m so glad you called! I was wondering if y’all made it safely. How is it there?”

“It’s really nice. Very fancy and we’re having a great time so far. How are y’all doing?”

“We are just fine. These dogs are just a delight, Son. I don’t want to give them back.”

“Maybe I’ll let them come over more often if you don’t spoil them rotten.”

“Well, that’s my job until you give me some human babies to spoil. Maybe you should start working on that. Have you proposed yet?”

“Not yet. I’ve got a dinner booked tonight but I don’t want to say much else. Em’s in the bathroom getting ready.”

“Okay, but you better let me know what she says. Are you nervous?”

“Nah.” I said, but I don’t know why I even bother putting up a front with her. She can read my voice like a book from across the world.

“Don’t be nervous. Just say how you feel, from your heart. You knew right away that she was different and you need to tell her how much you care for her.”

“I’m going try. You know I’ve never been the best with words.”

“You’re better than you think you are, honey.” 

“Thanks. I’m gonna let you go, but I just wanted to check in. Don’t feed my dogs too many treats.”

“Too late! They love Nana’s house the best!” She chuckles.

“Love you.”

“Love you too! Good luck even though you don’t need it.” 

I hang up with Nana and listen to Emma softly singing some pop song while getting ready and decide I better get myself dressed as well. I put on my “church clothes” as my mama always called it and discreetly pocket the ring in my pants pocket. I’ve organized for a photographer to hang back out of sight and photograph the proposal which was the only stipulation that Emma’s mom had when I asked for her hand. I wanted to make the trip to Alabama to ask in person but there was no way I could do that without Emma finding out or getting suspicious. I think back to that nervous phone call.

*Flashback*

I had arranged to speak with Emma’s parents via facetime while she was at work one day and I was nervous as hell to make the call. 

“Hi Austin!” Diana and James greeted when they accepted the call.

“Hey there. How are y’all doing today?”

“Good, probably not nearly as nervous as you.” James said and Diana smacked his arm with a shake of her head and I couldn’t help but chuckle because they were right.

“You wanted to talk to us about Emma?” Diana prompts.

“Well, I know we haven’t been together terribly long, but we are so good together and I have never been so sure about someone before. I have fallen deeply in love with her and I would love nothing more to ask her to marry me, with your blessing of course.” I ramble out probably too quickly. 

Diana and James look at each other with a smile before responding.

“We had a feeling this is what you wanted to ask us because we saw the way you both looked at each other and gravitated around each other when we came to visit. Emma has really opened up since we met you and I have never seen her so, herself. It’s like she finally stopped worrying about every step she took and allowed herself to just be happy.” Diana said and I couldn’t help but smile.

“The answer to your question is yes, you have our blessing as long as you promise to love her and take care of her and treat her with the utmost respect. She may be grown and not need us, but she’s always been my little princess.” James said with an almost sad smile.

“I swear to you both, that Emma is the love of my life and I will do anything and everything to provide for her and give her everything she could ever want.” 

“I’ve seen how you both are together that weekend we came to stay and knew it was the real deal. I’ve never seen her so happy or so in love before and we would be proud to have you as a son-in-law. You’re a good man.”

“Thank you, sir. You don’t realize how much that means to me. Becoming a part of your family would be a blessing. I’m just hoping she’ll say yes. Do y’all want to see the ring?”

“Of course, sweetheart!” Diana responded while clapping her hands as I carefully opened the box and tilted it towards the camera.

“Oh, it’s beautiful, Austin!” Diana coos and I feel proud that her mom is so sure she will like it.

“I’m relieved you think so. I was a little out of my depth but I just felt like it was something I could see her wearing every day. It’s a 2 carat round diamond, with something called baguette diamonds on each side on a platinum band. I plan to ask her when we go to Jamaica in two weeks. I still haven’t figured out exactly where, but I think she’d like it if I proposed near the beach.”

“It’s perfect. I just know she’ll say yes! Could you do us a favor? Could you have a photographer take pictures for us to see? I know she would cherish them as well.” 

“Yes ma’am.” I make a mental note to call the resort and see if I can hire someone to take pictures. I hadn’t thought of anything like that, so I’m glad her mom mentioned it.

“Well, we’re proud to have you join the family son. I appreciate you asking us and letting us in on it. I know she’ll be blown away.” James says.

“Thank you both so much.” 

I swear, I almost cried after we got off of the phone call. The only man that I ever looked up to was my PawPaw since my dad split and started a new family. I felt lucky to have PawPaw but always wondered why I wasn’t good enough for my dad to stay. Having Emma’s family accept me into their own so willingly, really caught me by surprise. I didn’t expect those old feelings to come back up, especially at my age. I guess you never grow out of wanting a father that actually wants you.

*Present*

I think I’ve got an idea of what I’m going to say to her but when she enters the bedroom all thoughts leave my brain. Emma is stunning in a full length royal blue dress and heels with her long hair in soft curls over her shoulders. The dress is simple with thin straps on her shoulders that cross in the back and a cut up to her knee which gives me a peek of her perfect legs when she walks. I’m literally stunned speechless.

“I’m ready. Don’t you look handsome.” She says with a smile as she makes her way to me.

“God damn, Sugar. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life.” I tell her honestly and her cheeks blush as she gives me her shy smile. I wrap my arms around her, angling the ring box away from her body and inhale her perfume. 

“Thank you, baby.” 

“I’m tempted to keep you here all to myself but you look so stunning it would be a shame not to show you off.” I whisper in her ear and she giggles.

“Let’s take a picture since we are all dressed up?” She asks and holds her phone out for a selfie. She giggles in the first picture as I kiss her cheek before she makes me smile for a real photo of us together. 

“Perfect.” She says as she reviews the photos on her phone.

“Hungry?” I ask and her tummy responds with a little growl which makes me chuckle.

“Let’s go get that fancy shmancy dinner. If their portions suck, just know I’m going to come back here and order a burger from room service.” I joke as Emma wraps her arm through mine and intertwines our fingers. She seems a bit surprised when I lead her towards the ocean rather than one of the big restaurants on the property until she spots the gazebo covered in twinkle lights at the end of the pier. There’s a man there holding a bottle of red wine near a table covered in flowers and candles atop a white tablecloth and I hear Emma whisper “holy shit” to herself as I lead her towards our dinner location. The water gently crashes against the shore around us and the sunset has cast an array of different colors into the sky, mostly orange and pink which even I can admit is gorgeous. I take a peek at my watch and see that we have about 40 minutes until the sun is officially set. Damn, I did better than I thought with setting this up. I can only hope the photographer I hired has set up somewhere and will be able to get pictures. 

“Oh my god, Austin.” Emma says with large eyes filled with surprise at our dinner location.

“Wanted to spoil my girl.” Is the only excuse I offer, hoping it will be enough for now.

“This is beyond stunning! Thank you, baby.” She says as she looks around and begins eating her meal. I had to order for us in advance since we aren’t in an actual restaurant, and I chose filet mignon, seasoned vegetables, small potatoes and bread. I planned to propose after she ate so we talked about how amazing the vacation has been so far, and if there were any excursions she would like to go on. She decided she would like to stay around the resort and get a couple’s massage tomorrow. I’ve never had a professional massage, but am not opposed to the idea especially if Emma is with me.

Before I knew it, the waiter had left to retrieve our dessert and we were both finished eating the main meal. It was time for me to propose. I was nervous as hell but after a large gulp of wine and a deep breath, I began. I reached across the table and took her hand in mine.

“Em, I couldn’t be happier that we took this trip together and even more so that we officially get to go back home together since I somehow sweet-talked you into moving in with me. I know I’m not the best with words, tending to rely more on my actions to show you how I feel but I’m trying to get better about that. You deserve every single day to be told how incredible you are. I want…I wanted to tell you how deeply I love you. I’ve never felt like this before and I truly didn’t think this type of love and connection would exist in my universe. You are an incredible veterinarian and the best mama to Aika and Mills. I know that you will be the most amazing mother to our future kids one day and it makes me so excited about the future. You are the most beautiful, loving, generous, stubborn and funny woman wrapped all into one and I consider myself the luckiest man in the world to have you as mine. That being said, I would love to have you become mine in every way. Would you do me the honor of marrying me, Sugar?” While I was speaking, I moved around the table and got down on my good knee while holding her left hand. I pull the ring box from my pocket and open it up to reveal the ring that I got her.

“Holy crap! Really?” Emma says with wide but tear filled eyes and jumps from her seat.

“Really, Darlin’” I answer with a nervous chuckle.

“Austin, oh my god! YES!” She squeals with a little excited jump as tears pour down her cheeks. I pull the ring from the box but before I can even slide it on her finger, Emma is suddenly on her knees nearly choking me in a tight hug before her lips find mine. She kisses me passionately and I feel the wetness from her tears against my cheek as she kisses me deeply. 

“I love you so much and I can’t wait to marry you.” She says against my lips.

“I love you too, Sugar. Can’t wait for you to be my wife.” I say and I pull back and slide the ring on her finger before wiping her eyes.

Emma holds out her hand to admire the ring. “We can get something else if that isn’t what you had in mind.” I tell her, hoping she’ll be honest with me.

“Oh, Austin, this is more beautiful than I could have imagined! I love it baby.” She says with another kiss before I help her up off of the pier. I smile when the photographer that I hired, Joseph, walks down the pier and introduces himself before congratulating us and asking to take a few more photos before the sun sets. We take several photos before sitting down to eat the dessert brought by our waiter that’s covered in chocolate and drink the champagne that he brought along with it.

All I can think about is the fact that she said yes and was going to become my wife. Emma is smiling from ear to ear and she’s absolutely radiant as she looks down at the ring weighing on her finger.

“How did you know my size?” She asks.

“I took the ring your grandma gave you while you were at work. I know you don’t wear it there since it’s hard to put on with gloves, so I had them measure it at the jeweler.” 

“Brilliant. Thank you for having someone take photos. I can’t wait to see them!”

“Ah, that was a request from your mama and I’m glad she made it because I didn’t think anything about it.”

“You talked to my mom?”

“Of course, and your dad. Had to get their permission and show them the ring.” I tell her and she giggles with a beaming smile.

She wanted to facetime her parents so while we were there, she called them and proudly announced that she said yes and we were getting married. They spoke for only a few minutes with endless congratulations and excitement before she wanted to call my Nana and PawPaw and tell them as well. After that call where we had to practically hang up on my Nana who I imagined was flitting around the room with her excitement, we took a stroll along the moonlit beach hand in hand.

“You’re going to be the most beautiful bride, Sugar.”

“I can’t believe we are getting married! This is everything that I ever wanted and more. You are everything I could have wanted, Austin Daniel Syverson.” She says and kisses me.

“Mmm…” I grunt and she licks into my mouth and presses her body against mine. 

“Fuck, Mrs. Emma Syverson sounds so good.” I tell her and she moans as I kiss near her ear.

“Take me to bed, future husband.”

“My pleasure.” I grunt as I reluctantly peel my body from hers so that we can go back to our room. 

Once we arrived, I’m pleased to see that the staff went above and beyond for us. Filling the large tub with bubble and flowers, champagne chilling on ice, and rose petals carefully arranged across the perfectly made bed to spell out, CONGRATS. Candles have been lit and are placed throughout the room giving it such a romantic feel.

I walk up behind Emma who was admiring the romantic setup and pressed my body against her back.

She quickly turned around and kissed me hungrily.

“I love you so much, Darlin’.” I whisper in her ear as she starts unbuttoning my shirt.

“I love you more, baby.” She says as she pushes the dress shirt from my shoulders.

“Not possible.” I turn her around and find the zipper to her dress and push the straps off of her shoulders to reveal that she was wearing a lacy black bra and matching thong set under that dress. I bite my lip and push away my desire to be rough with her. Tonight, I’m going to make this as romantic as I can. Slow and sensual.

I pick her up and place her gently on her back on the rose covered bed before stripping myself down to my navy boxers. 

“Austin, I need you.” She moans as her hands roam up and down her body in an attempt to ease her need.

“I’m gonna take my time with you tonight, Sugar. Want to show you how much I love you. Gonna make love to you, angel.” I tell her before kissing her deeply. I kiss all over her, removing the strapless bra first on my journey down her body, before removing her panties and spreading her legs to fit my wide shoulders. I kiss along her hip bones before finding my place at the apex of her thighs. Gently sliding my finger across her sensitive skin, I spread her wetness before gently guiding one finger, and then another inside of her before licking, sucking and kissing her folds. Focusing on her clit, I glance up to see the reflection of her engagement ring shining in the candlelight as she reaches up to grasp her breast and I instinctively rut against the mattress. Fuck, this is my fiancé. I’m going to marry this woman falling apart underneath me. I groan against her pussy. Emma moans and gasps soft, ‘oh fuck’ or ‘yes baby, right there!’ as I work to pleasure her. I focus even harder to get her to her climax and before I realize it, Emma is squirting her release across my fingers and chin. I lick and slurp her arousal before gently removing my fingers and caressing her thighs. Emma is positively wrecked above me as she tries to come down from reaching her peak. I use this opportunity to dry my fingers on my boxers which are wet with precum before I slide them off and lean back over Emma to kiss her. 

“You’re so beautiful.” I tell her and she gives me her shy smile.

“Never seen anything more gorgeous than you coming apart for me, Sugar.” I continue before she wraps her arms around my neck.

“Make love to me, Sy.” She tells me as she reaches down between us and guides my cock into her tight wet channel. I groan as I fill her up inch by inch with me. God, she feels so good. Will this ever stop being so amazing? I really don’t think it will.

“Baby, you feel so good.” Emma says as I start to thrust into her. She starts kissing on my neck and moaning in my ear and I swear I’m biting my lip to keep from coming before her. Her legs wrapped tightly around my waist as I intertwine our hands above her head and rut into her.

I continue to thrust into her as we share heated kisses, our tongues dancing against each other and gentle nips at each other’s lips. I gently tug on her nipples and grope her breasts as we find our highs together and I release my seed into her warmth.

I roll over beside her as we are coming down from our orgasms. Every muscle in my body is now fully relaxed since she said yes to my proposal. I was more nervous than I even admitted to myself and now, my body felt almost jello-like as I felt the relief surge through me. I reached down and brought Emma’s hand to my lips as I kissed her engagement ring and she rolled over on top of me.

“Thank you for making all of my dreams come true.” She whispers.

“Thank you for doing the same, Sugar.” I smile at her and kiss her forehead. A few moments later, I can feel us getting sleepy so I pick her up bridal style and place her in the bathtub that was set up for us before following her in. We relax against each other as she sleepily but excitedly recounts her thoughts of the dinner and my proposal and I smile the entire time she talks. Emma is so happy and I feel a surge of pride as though I had successfully made this as romantic as I possibly could have for her.

Emma is asleep against my chest roughly forty-five minutes later and I gently rouse her so that I can dry her off and get her ready for bed. She wants her makeup off so I help her wipe her face with her makeup wipes before we brush our teeth and climb into the pristine bed still covered in rose petals now in disarray.

Emma is wrapped around me like usual with her head against my chest as I gently stroke through the soft curls of her hair.

Thinking she’s already asleep, I admire the ring on her little hand and smile knowing that she’s agreed to forever with me.

“Goodnight, fiancé. I love you.” She whispers and I smile before kissing the top of her head.

“Goodnight, my bride. I love you too.” 

Part 18

Taglist: @shellyshellshell, @henryownsme, @caramariehurst, @beck07990, @mollymal, @kingliam2019, @syversonswife, @identity2212, @starfirewildheart, @hannah9921, @wa-ni, @kneelforloki, @cutedoxie, @enchantedbytomandhenry, @foxyjwls007, @geralts-yenn, @courtlynwriter, @corrie1013, @squeezyvalkyrie, @summersong69, @livisss, @mayloma, @uunotheangel, @warriormirkwood, @sofiebstar, @wetzilly

A/N:

This is how I felt while writing the proposal! Sorry y'all will have to wait a little bit on the balcony smut, but I wanted to keep this one romantic 🥰❤️ Hope y'all liked it!

[amhrosina]

Your Pretty Heart (Billy Russo x f!Reader)

A/N: Anyone else widely obsessed with Pedro Pascal and The Last of Us right now? Being back in my Pedro era feels like getting home after a long ass trip. Should I write for some of Pedro's characters?? SOS! Also, I hit 800 followers today??? Like what??? Thank you to everyone who supports me and this account!!

Request: ex’s to lovers with Billy Russo or Matt Murdock. Where Frank and Karen “help” Billy/Matt get their ass together to get back with Reader. Because come on their clearly still in lovee. 

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: When you and Billy break up, Karen takes it upon herself to get you back together. Her plan comes to a head one night at Josie’s, and you and Billy must face the consequences of loving and leaving one another. 

(Warnings: so much angst, cursing, Billy is a soft!boy at heart, soft!Billy, descriptions of smut (but like romantic descriptions, not graphic ones??), I think that’s it, it’s literally just really sad until the end lol) 

“You look great.” Your date smiled, but he wasn’t looking at your face. Instead, for the third time in less than a minute, his eyes trailed the sloping curve of your cleavage as it disappeared into your dress. You shrugged his gaze off, hoping there was at least something interesting about him to keep you entertained for the evening. Something could be there. Deep, deep, down, but there, nonetheless.  

“So, Brad, what do you do for work? When Karen set this up, she didn’t tell me much about you.” 

“I’m an accountant.”  

Brad nodded his head along with yours, an awkward bob as you waited for him to return the question. He didn’t, instead choosing to fix his gaze on the jazz singer across the restaurant. Zero for two, Brad. 

“Do you, uh, have any hobbies?” You tried again to break the conversation dam, but Brad’s attention was so far away from the table you were sharing that he barely glanced at you when he responded. 

“I jog sometimes.” 

“Oh!” You lurched forward, desperate to grab onto anything that might make this date less awkward. “I like to jog, too. I’ll listen to books when I do it to pass the time. Do you read at all?” 

Brad’s eyes flicked to yours, then back to the jazz singer. Uninterested, bored, and inconvenienced. That’s what his glance told you. 

“People who need books or music when they run aren’t capable of self-reflection. It’s how you grow as a human being, you know? You should try it.”  

You blinked. Who the fuck does this guy think he is? A pompous, arrogant, prick seemed like the winning description, and you chuckled as you looped your purse handle over your shoulder. 

“Well, Brad.” You stood from your seat, drawing his attention away from the band. “Congratulations. You win. I think this is quite possibly the worst date I’ve ever been on, and that’s saying a lot.” 

You didn’t deem him with an explanation as you exited the restaurant, but a vivid memory flashed in your mind of Billy standing you up on your anniversary last year. Yeah, that date was terrible, but at least Billy hadn’t insulted you after standing you up. He’d spent weeks apologizing with flowers, jewelry, and even cutting down on his time at Anvil so he could spend more time with you, but that date would always stick out in your mind as the beginning of the end.  

You shook the thoughts from your head, digging through your purse to find your cellphone. Karen was going to explain where the fuck she met this guy, and why she thought setting him up with you would be a good idea. She picked up on the second ring. 

“Karen.” You tapped your foot on the sidewalk. “What the fuck?” 

“Hey! How was the date?”  

Wherever Karen was, it was loud. You could barely understand her through the speaker, muffled by music and what sounded like a crowd of people in the background.  

“The date was so bad.” You almost whined. Almost stomped your foot at how unfair the dating world had become. Almost thought about how much easier it was when you were with Billy. “Where did you even meet this guy?” 

“At work. Was he an asshole?” She sounded apologetic, but the volume at which she had to scream her question into the phone made the entire interaction feel a little less impactful.  

“Grade-A Asshole.” You groaned. “Where are you?” 

“I’m at Josie’s, but-” 

“Great. I’m on my way.”  

You hung up the phone before she could respond and hailed a taxi. You felt a little guilty for barging in on her evening. Karen was a good friend, one that you’d clung to since you and Billy had gone your separate ways, and she deserved a night out without your moping. But the nagging feeling rolling around in the pit of your stomach told you exactly the reason you had to go to Josie’s. If you didn’t go hang out with Karen, you’d end up calling Billy, and the last thing you wanted to do was let him see you after a shitty date. You climbed into the taxi and hoped you could drink away the memories of tonight with Karen once you arrived at Josie’s.  

- 

Billy took a hefty sip of his beer as he eavesdropped on Karen’s phone conversation. Technically, it wasn’t eavesdropping if Karen had whacked him on the arm the second her phone started ringing, but it made Billy uncomfortable anyways. What they’d planned felt too much like a trick, and he didn’t want to take advantage of the situation. 

“She’s on her way.” Karen grinned, raising her beer in the air to clink bottles with him.  

Billy fiddled with the bottle in his hand, unsure if there was anything to be ‘cheersing’ to. 

“C’mon, Bill,” Frank grunted, meeting Karen’s still outstretched arm, “It worked. She’s on her way. Now, all you have to do is be a lesser asshole than her date.” 

“Don’t you think she’ll be furious when she finds out her entire evening was construed by her ex-boyfriend and best friends? She doesn’t even want to see me.” 

“Trust me, Billy,” Karen angled her head for emphasis, “She does. She just won’t admit it.” 

“How do you know, though?”  

“I see it on her face, and hear it in her voice, and she’s still sleeping on my couch. And you know what that tells me?”  

Billy rolled his eyes. “What does that tell you, Karen?” 

Karen’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “That she’s not looking for another apartment. That she still has hope that she’ll be able to go home, to your apartment.” 

Billy shook his head. “The market is insane. Maybe she just can’t find an affordable one.” 

“I saw three listed in the paper this morning. She’s not looking, Billy. She misses you.” 

Billy groaned, dragging his hands over his face. This entire situation was completely and totally fucked, and it was completely and totally his fault. He’d always been warned that his ambition would get the best of him. You’d slipped through his fingers so quickly that he got whiplash when he thought about the end of the relationship. It was like you were there one day and gone the next, and he had no idea how he ended up alone, stranded in his kitchen in the middle of the night because the idea of going to bed without you hurt too much.  

“What if it’s too late? What if I can’t fix it?” 

“All you can do is try, Bill.” Frank shrugged. 

“She loves you.” Karen spoke firmly, tapping her finger on the table, “And you love her. But she needs to know that. You have to show her that you love her.” 

“How? I thought I was doing that before.” Billy let out a disgruntled breath and cleared his throat.  

“Your priorities need to change. She deserves better than last-minute cancellations and rescheduled dates. You’re your own boss, Billy. You make the rules, and no matter how much money you spend on her, or how many gifts you buy her, she’s always going to remember the times that you didn’t show up.” 

Billy nodded. Karen was right, as usual. There’d been a significant change in the amount of time Billy was spending at Anvil, sometimes returning home early in the morning, only to change suits and leave again. It wasn’t your fault – it never was – but Billy couldn’t help himself from falling back into his old patterns. When shit got too real, he retreated, and it ended up costing him the most important thing in his life.  

Tonight was his chance to fix everything – to bring you home, to remind you that he adored you, to show you that his life was falling apart without you in it. All he had to do was get you to listen, and he was sure everything else would fall into place. 

- 

You took three steps into the bar before swiveling around and marching out in a dramatic fashion. Cursing Karen for conveniently forgetting to mention that Billy was with her, you tried not to stomp down the sidewalk that led to Karen’s apartment. If you had an apartment of your own, you’d surely be stomping your way there instead.  

You didn’t make it far before you heard your name being called behind you. Two distinct voices trailed you, but you were more focused on the lack of the third. Had he stayed behind at the bar? You swung around, almost slamming into Frank’s chest. Karen was a few steps behind him, and behind her, stood beautiful and broken Billy, hands in his pants pockets.  

“What?” You screeched, eyes flickering between the group. 

“I just wanted to tell you thaaaat,” Karen’s eyes twinkled, and you should’ve known that she was about to make your night go from bad to worse, “I’m going back to my apartment with my boyfriend, who is going to do very loud things to me for hours. If I were you, I’d steer clear of the whole block tonight.” 

You rolled your eyes and looked at Frank, whose innocent expression gave away Karen’s plan faster than you could piece it together. Clearly, this coup had been planned, and they were leaving you with no option but to spend time with Billy. 

“Is that so?” You narrowed your eyes at her, hoping she could read every nasty thought you’d ever had about her in your gaze.  

“Yep!” She hooked an arm through Frank’s and tugged him down the sidewalk. “See you tomorrow!” 

You watched them until they turned a corner, and you could no longer see them. When you turned to face Billy again, he had inched closer to you, standing a heady meter away with his hands still in his pockets. 

“Did you plan this?”  

The anger in your voice echoed across the concrete, slamming into Billy. He grasped his chest as if you’d shot him in the heart.  

“No. I didn’t even know there was a plan until I showed up at Josie’s earlier.” 

You hesitated to believe him, but something in the way he was looking at you told you to trust him. You looked him up and down, focusing on the way he looked worse than you’d ever seen him. For a brief second, you felt triumph over it. He deserved this after everything he did to you. He deserved to feel like shit. The triumph faded faster than it came, and an overwhelming sadness replaced the ire thoughts you were having about him.  

There were bags under his eyes, and you could tell he hadn’t been sleeping well. He never did when he couldn’t sleep with you. The facial hair that he usually kept so neat and maintained had grown beyond his usual boundaries, and the fact that he kept subconsciously scratching at it told you he didn’t like it. You tried not to let it get to you. You probably looked like shit, too.  

“How’ve you been?” His focus remained wholly on you. You rubbed the back of your neck to try and shake off his stare. 

“We don’t have to do this, Bil.” You looked at the ground, focusing on the crack in the concrete that crawled its way across the sidewalk, drawing a line inbetween you and Billy. You couldn’t decide if that was fitting, or incredibly sad. Maybe it was both. 

“We’re not doing anything.” He shook his head innocently. 

“You know what I mea-” 

“Come home.”  

There was a pregnant pause in the conversation as the two of you eyed each other. 

“Billy, I-” 

“Just for tonight. Until Karen’s apartment is...safe again.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, searching for an ulterior motive. And of course, there was an ulterior motive. You couldn’t blame him for it, because you knew if the roles were reversed, you’d be doing the same thing.  

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” You shook your head, more towards yourself than at him.  

“Why not?” He cocked his head to the side. 

“You know why.”  

He nodded but shrugged his shoulders anyways.  

“I’m not going to leave you out here with nowhere to go. It’s either the apartment, or we spend the next few hours in awkward silence at a diner.” 

The apartment. Not ‘my’ apartment. He didn’t consider it his when you weren’t there to claim the other half of it. You couldn’t lie to yourself. You wanted so badly to go with him, to see the home that you’d built with him. You wanted so badly to see how he’d faired over the last month without you. It was with all this in mind, and not how much you missed him, that had you nodding, agreeing to go home. Just for a visit, you repeated in your mind, just for a visit. 

When you stepped into what was once the living room you shared with Billy, you were struck with an overwhelming sense of familiarity. There was nothing different about it, except that the bookshelf was a little less stuffed than usual. You’d grabbed your favorites on your way out, unable to part with them, even just for a little bit. 

“Can I get you some wine?” Billy asked, already heading toward the kitchen to pour himself a glass. You nodded, shrugging your jacket off and trying to ignore the strangeness of being treated like a guest in the home that you’d lived in for years.  

When Billy returned with two particularly full glasses, you plopped down on the couch. You didn’t know how to act, or what to say, or who to be when you were around him anymore and falling back into old habits seemed like a grand way to get your feelings hurt again. 

“You didn’t answer my question earlier.” Billy took a swig from his glass, sitting on the armchair across from the couch. You silently thanked the universe that he had put distance between the two of you. The closer he was, the less clearly you could think.  

“Which one?” 

“How’ve you been?” 

“Oh.” You took a sip, only because it gave you something to do with your hands. “I’ve been alright.” 

He smiled, but the corners of his mouth didn’t reach his eyes. Anyone who looked at you longer than two seconds could see that you’re clearly not doing alright, but you’d grown comfortable living in denial, and you weren’t going to admit how not alright you were.  

“Heard your date didn’t go well.” 

You scoffed. Maybe it was the wine, or the way he looked smug about the fact that you’d had a shitty date, but you couldn’t help what came out of your mouth next.  

“Fuck you, Billy. It’s none of your business.” 

Billy looked startled by your outburst. You gulped down another mouthful of wine before rubbing your hand down your face. 

“I’m sorry.” You shook your head. “I don’t know where that came from.” 

“It’s okay. I probably deserve it.” He shrugged, leaning back in his seat. 

“What happened to us?” You asked, gazing at the ceiling. 

“You tell me, sunflower. You’re the one that left.” 

Your heart ached at the nickname. It wasn’t fair that he used it, especially when you were clearly in a vulnerable mood, but you cherished it anyways.  

“You left first.”  

It was barely a whisper, said so quietly that you weren’t quite sure he had heard you. If the palpable tension that followed wasn’t indicative of his acknowledgment, the deep sigh that erupted from his chest soon after was indication enough. He stayed quiet, swirling the remaining wine in his glass around in small circles. 

You stared at him, unflinching in your assessment of his body language. He didn’t look as miserable as you felt, and a spark of anger ignited in your belly because of it.  

“Did you ever really love me, Bil?” You barked. It was bait, and both of you knew it. You’d never questioned his love for you, and he knew you were trying to get a rise out of him, but he couldn’t help stepping up to the plate and taking the bait. 

“What kind of fucking question is that?” He watched you closely. You tried not to let your triumph show on your face. “Of course, I love you.” 

He stood from his seat and rested his hands on his hips, willing you to do the same. Meet him where he stood, he dared, show him how much you still care. You were nothing if not a daredevil. You joined him in the middle of the room, pressing your index finger into his chest. 

“Well then, what the fuck happened?”  

“You. Tell. Me.” He gritted from between clenched teeth. 

Billy wasn’t being fair to you, and he knew it. You were asking a valid question, and he was cowering behind the anger and frustration in the room.  

“I can’t do this again, Bil.” You turned, reaching for your purse. A heavy tug on your elbow had you crashing into Billy’s chest, where he enveloped his arms around you and pulled you into a crushing hold.  

“You’re not leaving, are you?”  

There was a softness in his voice that tugged at your heartstrings. For a moment, you forgot you were speaking to a grown man and not an orphaned little boy. You blew a long breath out before shaking your head. He rested his forehead against your shoulder. 

“No, Bil. I’m not leaving.” 

“I always knew I’d end up breaking your pretty heart.” His voice was muffled by your shoulder, but you didn’t miss the slight crack in his words. “I knew I’d fuck it up eventually.” 

“I don’t understand what happened. Everything was fine, and then it wasn’t.” You blinked away the tears that had built up on your waterline.  

“I know, baby. I’m so sorry.” 

You cupped his face as he dropped to his knees in front of you. His eyes, now red-rimmed and glassy, pleaded with you, and you couldn’t stop yourself from lowering your body next to his. 

“What’s going on?” You asked him, eyes flickering between his fast-blinking eyelids and rapidly shaking hands.  

“I was afraid.” He cleared his throat. “Am. I am afraid.” 

“Of what? Where is this coming from?” You gaped. You knew Billy struggled with commitment more than most – it had taken him almost a year of serious dating before he could tell you he loved you – but you thought he had moved past that. 

“Tom’s getting married.” 

Your brow furrowed. “What does Tom have to do with us?” 

“Tom’s getting married, and all I can think about is how I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to give that to you, and how you deserve someone who can give you everything you want and more.” 

You let his words sink into your chest, dissecting every interaction you’d had with him leading up to your breakup. It had been a slow descent, and when it finally became too much, you’d left with no clue how you ended up alone and sleeping on Karen’s couch every night. 

“Billy,” You shuttered, shaking your head as tears began to travel down your cheeks, “I never said I wanted any of that.” 

“It’s what you deserve.” 

“But it’s not what I want. Why couldn’t you see that I was happy with the way things were?” 

“I was terrified that you’d leave me. And then I became a shit boyfriend, and you really did leave me, and it was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

You wiped the tears from under your eyes and sniffled. “You weren’t always a shit boyfriend.” 

Billy snorted, letting a small smile cross his face as he tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear. 

“Can you ever forgive me, sunflower?” 

You considered his question. If you were being completely honest, you’d forgiven him as soon as you saw his pretty, brown eyes across the bar earlier, so sad and searching for you.  

“Can you promise that you’ll tell me when you’re feeling like this again, instead of shutting me out?” You cupped his cheek, eyes flicking down to his lips and then back up to his eyes.  

“I can promise that I’ll try.” He swallowed, searching your expression. “Is that enough?” 

You lurched forward, pressing your lips to his. The kiss tasted of red wine and salt, and you were suddenly grateful that you’d slumped to the floor earlier instead of waiting until now, when your knees were weak and shaking with anticipation.  

“I love you.” Billy mumbled inbetween kisses. 

“Show me.” You responded, opening yourself to him for the first time in over a month. 

He took you right there on the living room floor, a flurry of intertwined limbs, swollen lips, and skin brushing skin. His lips only left yours long enough to whisper praises against your neck before returning to yours in a bruising kiss. When you came apart underneath him, you couldn’t stop the tears from forming, but he didn’t mind. He kissed the tears away, apologies in their own right, as he continued showing you how much he loved you. 

Later on, after hours of reconciliation and apologies, you collapsed next to Billy on the couch. You’d lost your clothes a long time ago, only covered with the throw blanket you’d purchased the year before on a whim, and you watched as he sighed in quiet contemplation.  

“We should tell Karen and Frank that their plan worked.” You rested your head on his shoulder. He smiled, pulling you into his chest.  

“Let them figure it out on their own. They’ll come around at some point tomorrow when you still haven’t gone back.” 

He was right. The next morning, when Karen and Frank knocked on the door, you and Billy were still cuddled together on the couch, so worn out from the night before that you hadn’t been able to muster up the energy to move to the bedroom. You took one glance at Billy before you were on him again, uncaring that your friends were waiting. That’s fine, you thought, let them wait. Let them wait. 

Tag List:

@alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @chiaraxtargaryen @trulylavandedarling @D0wnbad @deliciousfestsalad @lilyevans1 @imagineadream @22carolina08 @definitelynotsugar @casualchaoticdevil @peachy-flxwr @nashja @xshewayout @purple-amaranthe @raajali3 @emiemiemiii @messymissy @mossexe @fictional-hooman @oeuryale @violet-19999 @quackson03 @husherstan @dumb-fawkin-bitch @sweetserendipity65 @americaarse @lazyxsquirrel @anastasianeedstoread @mxxnligxt

[izvmimi]

All Roads Lead to Love? - Chapter III

cw: alcohol mention. quirk use. medical scenes. bad fashion. Please see additional masterlist warnings! Masterlist

Izuku stares at your number on his phone and his stomach turns as his thumb hovers over the call button. 

Then he looks up. Shoto hasn’t said a word in the last ten minutes, content with finishing up the last of a sandwich and scrolling through his phone. Shoto has a bad habit of responding to every thirsty comment he gets and Izuku doesn’t bother telling him not to at this point. That’s PR’s problem and they get paid handsomely for it.

“How bad is it if I call a girl who might have a boyfriend?” Izuku says it wincingly, as if the very idea pains him.

Shoto doesn’t look up. “I mean if you’re just saying hi, it’s not illegal. Otherwise it’s harassment.”

Izuku should know better than to expect tact from him. Izuku pushes his phone away from him and replaces the emptiness of his right hand with a handful of fries to stuff into his mouth. Shoto looks up and raises his eyebrow at him, then shakes his head.

“I thought you and Ochaco broke up.”

“We DID.” Izuku insists, annoyed. “Over half a year ago?”

Shoto shrugs. “I mean it’s not like it’s obvious, the three of you still hang out all the time.”

Izuku frowns. This is true, but it’s been less so in recent times, and the media storm related to it is brewing, he feels, when the distance, now more obvious, gets spun into netizen debate but he’s hoping to shield himself from it.

Perhaps he shouldn’t bother you just for that reason alone. Especially if you have someone. You won’t have him. Not in this life, not in the next.

“It’s about ___,” he finally admits. Shoto looks slightly confused for a moment and Izuku practically growls at him before he recalls.

“Oh.”

Sighing, Izuku leans back into his chair and lets his shoulders slump. Perhaps he’s creepy to still feel this way about you, but there’s not much he can do about it. He was doing so well too until he saw you yesterday, and… 

That fucking guy. 

Izuku runs his hands through his hair. Life is too cyclical for him right now.

“How are you and Mo-?” he asks instead but Shoto shrugs, interrupting him before he can ask any other questions.

“Fine.”

Sometimes talking to Shoto is like pressing oil from a stone, but Shoto suddenly asks Izuku a follow-up question.

“You know, if you’re still pining for that long, does it really matter at this point if she has a boyfriend?”

Izuku looks shocked, but Shoto is dead serious. He blinks.

“Just tell her how you feel anyway. That way she can tell you no to your face and you’ll get over it.”

Izuku feels something in his heart rend, but Shoto’s insane advice has a shocking amount of weight to it.

As usual. He just has to work up the nerve to listen to it.

—

A couple of weeks pass. You’ve found yourself staring at Izuku’s number in your phone far more than you have in years, wondering if you should tell him what happened and knowing that it would make you sound crazy. How do you even start such a conversation?

Hey I know I haven’t spoken to you for real in years, but some kid with a quirk made clones of me that suggest you’re my soulmate? Oh by the way, I loved you back then but just never told you? Anyway, break up with your girlfriend, a literal angel, because I’m bored.

You call one of your friends, not the ones who went to UA with you and told you not to suppress your feelings, but another one who will tell you you’re ridiculous and to focus on the very available man in front of you, if you must insist on rekindling old flames.

And she tells you exactly what you want to hear.

“This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

You sigh, absorbing the hit, but you’re thankful. “I know.”

“If he fumbled you then, he fumbles forever,” she says, unabashedly. You can see her now, painting her toenails with one hand, and petting her cat with another. It doesn’t matter to her that fate says otherwise, just the lack of effort on either part.

Don’t let us convince you how to feel, you remember an alternate version of you say.

It’s the wake-up call you need.

That evening, you meet up with Akira impromptu and he fulfills his promise of your favorite sushi and wine. Drinking more than usual to forget whatever your clones have to say, you find that Akira’s lips are somehow more comforting now that you’re older, and his hugs are tighter, and while you don’t end up sleeping together by the end of the night, the thought of laying under him in the near future brings a warmth to your chest that feels like the beginning of newly rekindled love.

—

“Are you this embarrassed to be seen with me?” Inko snickers, walking just a couple paces behind her son, whose broad shoulders are hunched over as he shrouds himself in a hoodie, a hat and sunglasses. He looks somewhat ridiculous like this, with the effect of making his already very noticeable frame stick out more, and the fact that he’s dressed head to toe in merch that doesn’t exactly match color scheme-wise (Froppy socks and Red Riot shoes, and Pinky’s iconic tie-dye pattern are not exactly easy on the eyes) doesn’t help.

“I just want to get in and out without incident,” Izuku murmurs quietly. Inko laughs and pats his back as he continues to push a shopping cart past the crowded hallways. He wishes his mother would have chosen a better day for grocery shopping because he woke up grumpier than usual today, which is really saying something, but these runs are important for her. She misses him and this is just one of the ways he can remind her that above all else, she’s still his son.

“That’s not like you.” She rubs his back gently and Izuku’s mouth twists to the side.

It isn’t, but it is him at the very moment. All he can think about is the fact that he feels like he should call you and he has no idea what to say, and the idea of you desperately finding ways to hang up on him makes him sick to his stomach. He’s tired and overworked. He’s seen at least one article speculating on his romantic life since this morning, now that Iida and Ochaco were found cavorting on a beach, and he’s starving. 

The last one is a problem he can fix. Realistically, the first one is too but all he can think of is rejection and the label of creep. 

Izuku Midoriya, current #1 Hero and absolute creep.

“I just need a break.” Polite enough to grab two cans of vegetables from the highest shelf, a couple for him and his mom, and one for the lady that seems to be reaching but too embarrassed to ask for help. She thanks him and he says not to mention it, then lets the cart speed off before she can think too hard about who he looks or sounds like. 

Deku is very popular with older middle-aged ladies.

A little further down, he stops so that Inko can catch up with him. She’s still in high spirits and he resists the urge to shudder when thinking about how well her and Toshinori’s date last night went. He’d picked her up from his apartment and that may have been a little too much for him but he’s accepted this arrangement for now.

If his mom is happy, then he is.

They chat more about everything then nothing, while Izuku keeps the conversation away from how good his mentor is as a lover, then earning a moment for himself to scroll through the news on his phone while his mother chats up the workers at the fish market. He’s too engrossed, analyzing the scathing review of property damage with Dynamight and Red Riot’s combined recent save, until he looks up and sees Inko walk in a sudden opposite direction. Curious as to where she’s going but not moving yet, his eyes follow her, but when he realizes where she’s waving to, he almost shits his pants.

This can’t be serious.

It’s you again. You look just as surprised as he is, your mouth slightly agape, a pomelo in your right hand over at the produce section. Suddenly, he is acutely aware of exactly what kind of fashion disaster he is, and looks around, calculating the chances he can hide without being noticed by anyone or being called out by his mother. It’s not like you are particularly dressed to the nines either - you’re in an oversized hoodie too (Izuku wonders if it’s yours or Akira’s for a moment), the hood drawn close around your unmade but clean face, and yoga pants, sneakers that at least match unlike his clashing shoes. Although you look slightly uncomfortable the longer Inko talks to you, he can tell it’s less about not being kind and more shyness. 

He spends more time observing you than making an escape route, and Inko finally betrays him by pointing over to him. You look like you’ve gone ashen when you see him, and it smarts; he offers you the smallest of awkward waves but Inko takes your wrist gently and pulls you over to him jovially. 

And now you’re face to face again. He swallows hard, feeling the palms of his hands get sweaty as he grips the shopping cart handles. He has no idea how it’s gotten like this, and neither do you. You’re stiff as a board, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

Just why do you dislike him so much? He wonders, but he has no time to lament, lest he make this worse than it already is. 

“You know, I still have a picture of you two in my house!” Inko says, cheerfully. “I’m surprised you guys don’t still hang out often.”

Your stomach turns, and both of you don’t realize that you’re thinking the same thing -

Because they didn’t like me back, back then.

Desperate to make small talk, you say, “Oh, do you come here often?”

Izuku blinks, trying to comprehend your own ridiculous question you regret asking, but only makes it worse.

“To the grocery store? Oh yeah, haha, need to eat too!”

He laughs a little too loud, and in attempting to convince himself and you that he’s funny, slaps the handle of the shopping cart, which subsequently tips backwards which he scrambles to resettle. You and Inko both look shocked, and by the time he’s guided things back into carts, Inko is laughing nervously too. By now, Izuku has garnered more than a couple of stares from nearby customers, and quickly bumping him out of the way, she picks up on his odd behavior and rescues him.

“Ha, well it was nice to see you again, hun, I hope things have been well! Say hi to the family for me,” she waves, and quickly pulls Izuku along with her.

You remain planted watching him, wondering what trick the universe is playing on you. 

Of all the grocery stores in Japan, your search for one specific food item brought you to Izuku, no matter how badly you try to avoid him.

—

“Can I ask a stupid question?”

Camilla looks up from where she’s perusing through a rack of work blouses then looks back to you.

“None of your questions are stupid. Shoot.”

You let your hands leaf through a stack of folded jeans, then pace a little as her eyes follow you, mulling over the words to use under your breath. After all, you haven’t explained the multiverse thing yet although you’re usually open about most things, for fear that she will hit you with an ‘I told you so’, even if she’s generally very kind about it. But you do still need to know.

“Do you still have people from way-back-when that you’ve liked?” you ask. Camilla gives you a look, then walks over and takes your face dramatically in her hands.

“Once again, I am begging you to stop going on dates with that weirdo,” she says. You find yourself laughing. She wasn’t too keen on the second date, and not the third, and while she didn’t explain in detail, she’s observed Akira enough over time (since they were both in the Support class) to not be particularly fond of him at all. 

“I mean he really isn’t that bad.”

“He’s boastful and a womanizer,” she says again, now turned back to laying shirts onto her chest. “How does this look?”

��Oh, it’s cute,” you approve, noting how nicely the turquoise in semi-sheer material appears against her complexion. 

“Great,” she takes it and pushes it into your arms. “This is for you. Glad you like it!”

Camilla’s tricked you again. You came out here intending not to leave with more clothing and yet…

“Let me be fair. Akira gives the energy of an unserious person, but perhaps he’s changed over time. I could be wrong.” She softens her stance, putting her hand on her hips. You snort for a moment, but you can easily see why she thinks this way - he is a bit airheaded for your liking, and the sudden declaration of re-interest in you does seem brusque. But the truth is you’re not tied up with anyone else, so it doesn’t really matter if you allow yourself to have some fun.

On top of that, you’re not really thinking about Akira in this particular case. 

Sucking in a deep breath, and considering that you might immediately regret it, you decide to tell her what happened just weeks ago. By the time you’re done explaining, her hand is over her mouth, but then she smiles practically to the back of her teeth, and you realize you’re in trouble.

“Now that’s what romance novels are made of.”

“Camilla…” you start. She giggles and twirls a bit.

“Why are you questioning it? We saw the way he looked at you-”

You grimace. “He did not.”

She rolls her eyes. “Listen, if a man looked at me like that, I’d truly not sit here and argue with my friend about it.” She’s wandering between racks of clothing again, and you find yourself following her naturally just as you have for the past hour.

Your lips press into a thin line. “It sounds like a good story, but truly if he wanted me back then, he would have had me by now.”

As it comes out, you immediately regret it. Lead forms in your stomach as you think of what you just admitted, and Camilla is now digging through skirts that you’re not sure are for you or for herself.

“So clearly the problem is him. .That’s something we can sort out soon enough, now can’t we?”

In seconds, she’s zapped your phone right out of your pocket, flying directly into her open right hand.

“I’ll call him,” she sings.

If the panic that overcame you at that moment could revitalize a human being, you’d have resurrected an entire cemetery at once. 

“… You wouldn’t,” is the phrase that comes out of you weakly, in a hush. Camilla grins, unlocking your phone (you consider that you probably shouldn’t have given out your passcode as recently as last week’s sleepover), and scrolls through your contacts briefly before settling on his name. She considers it for a moment, truly, but the deep frown on your face and your approach to her make it sufficiently clear that you’re not above wrestling your phone out of her very hands in the middle of a department store. Twisting her mouth to the side, she decides to throw the phone back to you.

”Coward,” she murmurs.

You slip your phone in your pocket, considering changing your passcode that very second, glaring at her. 

“Stay out of my business,” you snap, but then you break out into giggles, partially out of relief. She laughs too, and pulls out another dress, glimmering in the overhead light, a soft purple chiffon number.

”You’re coming with me to the next gala and you’re wearing this.”

”I don’t think Mirio will appreciate losing his date,” you muse. She’s already off looking at the rows of pumps and stilettos, giving you a throwaway glance, but not without a sparkle in her eye.

”I think sunshine boy has enough admirers, and you’ve spent enough time hiding in the shadows.” She beams as you take it from her hands, adding to the pile of things you already have to try on.

You huff in pretend annoyance but you can never fault your friend.

“I’ll consider it.”

—

3 months since your first meeting passing faster than you know it, your most involved pediatric patient returns, and right on time.

“How’s little Kazuo doing?” 

You’re excited to see him, and he looks better than you expected, the young boy kicking his feet comfortably, his blue eyes shaded this time by a toy replica of Can’t Stop Twinkling’s iconic red shades offered to him by Junko. He takes the time to remove a lollipop from his mouth and looks at you with a big grin, and it warms you inside out. 

“Good!” he says. Mrs. Minamoto smiles at him as you ruffle his hair gently then look at her to confirm that this is true, and she does.

The quirk stabilizers have been working wonders, she says, and you decline testing his quirk currently, not because you really don’t want to see another legion of Deku wives/girlfriends tell you that you’re making a wrong decision with your life, but because the child looks like he’ll do best undisturbed today.

“Any breakthroughs?” you ask. 

“No incidents,” she affirms. “No strangers, doppelgangers or weird unexplained objects, thank goodness,” she adds, and she appears genuinely relieved which makes you glad for her.

“Good!” You take a few notes down on your legal pad then clasp your hands together.. “Do you think you’d be comfortable with a spacing regimen?” 

She looks resistant immediately, which is understandable, and you quickly recant your suggestion. Rolling back in your wheeled stool to your computer where you’re documenting, you click a few buttons to renew the child’s prescription for another 3 months.

“We can give it time. So far we haven’t found anyone in the database reports with a quirk remotely similar to this, as you already know from our written communication, but if you’d like we can take some time to let him experiment with his abilities at small intervals, or we can continue the stabilizers until we can set you up with the appropriate coaching program.”

She picks the latter, as you expect.

“I… I just think he’s too young to be twisting and turning the universe like this,” she says. With this, she pulls her son closer to her, who looks comfortable yet concerned with his mother’s reaction.

“Absolutely.”

You mean to be compassionate. After all, her son has already messed with your life as you know it, so perhaps a bit more time for things to normalize is warranted.

Mrs. Minamoto lets out a sigh, then taps her heels on the ground. You look back at her after signing a few electronic documents to approve medications and next time visits. 

“Is it wrong for me to stop him from using his ability?” she asks. “I don’t want to stunt him… I just…” she trails off and you shake your head.

“All you’re doing is giving him time to adjust safely. We’ll work on this together, okay? It’s a huge amount of power for such a tiny person, so let’s give him a little bit more time to grow into it.”

Mrs. Minamoto looks teary-eyed and you offer her a reassuring handhold. 

“It doesn’t hurt to give a little more time to reflect and plan. After all, what’s destined to happen will happen regardless.”

Kazuo’s sea-green eyes focus right on you at this moment, and for a moment you wonder if he’s challenging how much you believe in the words you so easily say.

—

“Oi, we’re heading out.”

Katsuki’s speech is partially slurred, and Ochaco giggles politely as she waves him and his date out, her own naturally pink cheeks red herself, just as quite a few others in this private room. She nudges Iida who is staring off very slightly into space, his own look somewhat dazed even though he looks like he’d be much less of a lightweight, and Izuku notices how quickly Iida returns to reality from her touch, then waves in turn. 

“Make sure to text when you get home!” Iida and Ochaco both practically say in unison.

Perhaps they are made for each other, he thinks for a moment. By now, the two are official with the group of Heroes they frequent in and no one bothers to ask him any more questions, and he’s thankful for it, but it’s still awkward to be invited to these group outings that feel more like dates these days, particularly since the girl who’s seated next to him has long since given up on conversation and is now blatantly swiping right on a dating app, hoping to get lucky somewhere else before the night is over. He’s not bothering paying her any mind more than is polite; after all his mind is elsewhere. Izuku watches Katsuki whisper something into Runa’s ear as he adjusts her jacket onto her shoulders, and she laughs and taps his shoulder back.

Izuku wishes he could broach the subject of you, one of her best friends, but Runa has been preoccupied for most of the night with talking to Katsuki, and he knows better than to interfere with Katsuki getting the attention he craves. A smaller part of him wonders if he could just ask her to bring you with her next time, but that’s an insane request, and while Runa once was partial to teasing both him and you more than a little often in high school, she does her best not to bring you up whenever he has the chance to speak to her. 

Almost as if you’ve told her explicitly not to. 

It’s nearing midnight, and Izuku calls over their waiter to foot the bill this time, having made arrangements early on with the group to manage the table. His ‘date’ orders another drink without looking up which Izuku doesn’t even bother to be annoyed about, while Shoto and his girlfriend, nicknamed Mochi, also look to be getting ready to leave, him sticking so close he’s practically wrapping her in his peacoat. It dawns on him that he might actually be stuck as the last person in the room with the most uninterested person in the world but thankfully Ochaco and Iida seem to remain steadfast in keeping him company.

“Thanks for paying, Izuku,” Ochaco says a little bit later, rubbing gentle circles on Iida’s back. Iida is now practically facedown, but still gesturing something with his hands in agreement. 

He smiles.

“Of course.”

“Thank you for coming out too,” she says again later, when Texter has found a match and makes her way out and Izuku is once again the third wheel to his two best friends. Iida has stepped out to use the bathroom before leaving, and he and Ochaco stand outside in the frigid night under the moonlight. It’s the first time they’ve stood like this together in months, but the silence between them was less uncomfortable than it was pensive then.

Izuku again continues to pretend that he hasn’t had a terrible night, but he knows Ochaco can tell. After all, Ochaco is one of the few people that knows him better than anyone, when his mind is preoccupied with something else, when he’s uncomfortable, when things are wrong. Just because she chose to ignore that feeling of being in the wrong place when the right person was standing next to her the whole time, does not mean she doesn’t know his heart intimately.

“Has everything been okay?” she asks.

Izuku offers a nervous laugh. “Yeah, don’t worry, I’m not sad or heartbroken or anything,” he replies. He’s assumed incorrectly that he knows what she means, and when he turns to look at her, she’s frowning.

“I didn’t mean it in that way,” she murmurs. 

Izuku knows she’s being honest.

“I know whatever is making you feel less you has nothing to do with me, or rather…-” she looks away for a moment, back towards the entrance of the restaurant - “us, but I just want you to be happy, okay?”

Izuku nods, his throat suddenly dry.

Iida arrives soon and with hugs, the two set off, and Izuku walks home alone, checking his phone the entire way, looking twice at the text he considered sending you just to say hello, liquid courage in his veins still not enough to press send.

…

“What are you looking at?” Akira asks. He’s grinning, gold eyes as  bright as the candles flickering on your dining table, and you turn off your phone, flipping it over and pushing it out of sight as you reach for the breadbasket.

“Runa’s out with friends and wanted to show me a pic.” The pic in question shows the group of your classmates at UA, including a couple of unidentified characters, and it looks like a group date. You take in the features of the girl who sits next to Izuku, beach-blonde and bright-eyed, staring a little too long, then focus back on Runa who is taking the selfie, Katsuki taking up far more of the picture than you wish he would but expect him to.

“Ah, your friend that hangs out with all the top Heroes, right?” he asks. You twist your mouth to the side, as you look up at him then click your screen off.

“Yeah. I mean, she too is a top hero…”

He shrugs, then returns to his cut of steak. Without looking up, he adds, “I’m surprised you distanced yourself from them after all this time, but can’t say I’m not thankful for it.”

“What do you mean?” you ask. Akira looks up at you, as though surprised that you’re even challenging him on that notion. You’ve had many a discussion on how detrimental heroes are to society, even after the meta war had almost ended Japan as you knew it, but you couldn’t imagine he still held those views all this time. Hero Society has settled, although it has morphed and changed. Heroes remain celebrities but they’re no longer gods among men in the way All Might was.

Well, at least most aren’t.

“I just think for regular people like us, it’s better not to stay so entangled with that archetype, you know,” Akira adds. You’ve been through this train of conversation before, and your lips press into a thin line but you hold your tongue for now. Regular people like us. Like you and him.

“I mean, think of that asshole Deku,” he starts. 

There it is.

“Akira, can you pass me the butter, actually?” You won’t let another night be ruined by the mere mention of his name. He passes it, but you can tell he’s annoyed by your interjection.

“As usual, you immediately defend Midoriya,” he presumes. You try to remain polite enough not to roll your eyes, but you’re really being tested, and are suddenly no longer able to hold it in.

“It’s been over a decade,” you remind him. “Will you get over whatever your preoccupation with him is? He hasn’t mattered to me in so long, but if you want to speak to him and talk through whatever feelings you have harbored all this time, hopefully I can find a way to hook the two of you up.” 

As the words come out, you start to regret your overreaction, but it’s just a couple months into this budding relationship and the thought of a repeat of Akira’s high school insecurity while you’re on your way to your 30s is unbearable.

Especially knowing that perhaps this time, there’s a good reason to.

Akira gives you a meaningful look, then takes a bite of his steak, chews and swallows, keeping his eyes on you the entire time. You take a sip of your sparkling water, keeping eye contact as well. It’s not meant to be a challenge but you want to convey that this particular conflict is over and not to be revisited. The message is clear.

“As long as it stays that way.”

[maximoff-pan]

I know this is random but I was reading your why do fools preview of your steve fic (which I love and can't wait for more of), and I was wondering if you could write a blurb about will byers coming out to the reader? I feel like with her being so close to jonathan and the byers family, it would be such a pivotal moment 💕

oh my goodness this idea warms my heart, of course I can — I also would love more requests in this universe before I post the next part (if anyone has some

pairing: will byers x fem!(platonic)reader

set in the why do fools universe (read here) — eventually steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 600+

“I think I like Mike.”

The implication is clear; right as the words pass quietly through his lips, you understand what he means. But almost like he thinks there’s no way you could possibly get it, he feels the urge to clarify. Because in his mind, why would you ever understand? “More than–” he struggles with it. This is much harder than he thought it would be.

Except as he glances towards you, your eyes locking steadily, he knows he doesn’t need to say any more. 

“More than a friend.” You finish delicately. And there’s no judgement in your tone, only love.

Will nods. This has to be one of the scariest things he’s ever done: admitting how he really feels. “I’ve never…” he trails, trying to form the right words, “you’re the only one I’ve told.” 

And you can’t quite describe it, the warmth that spreads through your chest. It’s almost surreal, thinking about how much he must trust you…enough to be the first person he feels he can talk about this with. Initially, it catches you by surprise. What could you have possibly done to deserve this kind of trust? But in your heart, you know why.

The love you hold for Will Byers is unconditional; he’s the little brother you never had. The little brother you didn’t ask for, but who fell into your life and changed it for the better. Of course, with that came Dustin, Mike, and Lucas, (and later El and Max), as well as an interesting friendship with the one and only Steve Harrington, but you suppose, everything had worked out for the best. 

“C’mere.” You gesture to him, arms outstretched and a soft smile gracing your features. “You know I love you right? No matter what?”

You can feel him nearly collapse into you, feeling as he releases a breath of relief. He’s crying, his tears a combination of fear and happiness. They wrack through him in intense waves, and yet paradoxically, his demeanor remains as delicate and fragile as you remember it being. Ethereal. 

It brings you peace knowing that he feels safe with you. Because as much as you adore each of the kids equally, (and while you hate to admit it), Will has always been the one you gravitated towards. Something about his timid nature drew you in. From the moment your friend Jonathan introduced you to his little brother, you knew how special he was. With his gentle brown gaze and shaggy bowl cut, he exuded pure innocence. 

The first thing you remember about him was how reserved he seemed. Minimal words were spoken in those early months. Until he started to open up. Regardless, he was always a bit of a scared kid, a kid who didn’t have a fair shot right from the jump.

Maybe you just got that. And unlike others in his life, you refused to give up on him, or Jonathan.

“Oh Will.” He’s clinging on to you now, grip tight as he shakes like a leaf. “I’ll always be here for you. I promise.”

He breathes heavily, beginning to apologize profusely. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs. “I was just so scared.”

“Never be sorry for your emotions.” 

He pulls back from you, calmer now, allowing you to get a good look at him.

"Never apologize for being who you are." You tell him. "Not to me, not to your brother — not to anyone. You hear me?"

Your tone is delicate, but Will knows just how serious you are. He nods, unable to find the words to thank you, unable to describe the feeling of warmth that has spread through his entire body.

You are a safe haven. You always have been. You always will be.

Will knows what it's like to feel accepted by you, to be loved by you. And he never wants that to change.

"Thank you." He clings to you still.

It's silent and left unsaid, but in your mind you think, always.

I will always be here for you.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

New Normal

Summary: River Cartwright x Fe!Reader -> You have kept your reason for being at Slough House a secret from everyone, including River. But what happens when you finally decide to tell him the truth?

Disclaimer: Oblivious idiots in love + best friends to lovers. Mostly fluff, Spider being a creep, mentions of protective River, Lamb telling him to get his act together, Lamb and Standish being River's mum and dad (kinda), swearing, mentions of blood, broken glass and River patching up Reader. Not Proof Read.

“Where’ve you been?”

You didn’t look at River as you entered, walking over to your desk to dump the rest of your things beside the extra large pile of files. “Shops.” From one of the shopping bags, you searched until you reached the bottom and pulled out a packet of period pads before rushing off towards the bathroom. 

By the time you came back, you found the extra large pile of files down to just a large. “Did you-”

River shook his head. “I was almost finished.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” River had to do a double take as he looked at you. “What happened to your hand?”

You looked at it, not that you needed to. It was still throbbing. “Oh.” You shook your head. “Nothing.”

River stopped whatever he was writing. “It doesn’t look like nothing.”

“Well, it is.”

Sighing, he pushed himself back from his desk before he walked towards you, taking your hand in his so he could look at it. “What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Does it hurt?”

“I’ll be fine,” you told him, trying to pull your hand away but he wasn’t going to let it go. 

River just simply looked at you. “That’s not what I asked.”

You didn’t say anything much after that considering River mumbled something under his breath before dragging you towards the kitchen. 

“River, I told you I’m okay.”

“Your hand is bleeding.” He pointed out before pulling out an ice pack before wrapping it in a tea towel and pressing it to the back of your hand. You hissed. 

“And it’s swollen. So, either you’ve punched a wall, or you’ve punched someone.” River watched you for a moment. “So, who did you punch?”

You looked directly at him, but he saw right through you. “Nobody.”

“Ah, so it was someone.”

With a small grumble, you pulled your hand away, taking the ice pack with you. “It was no-one. I just…look, nothing happened, alright? Can you just drop it?”

You didn’t give River a chance to reply since you were already making your way back to your desk to get on with the large pile of paperwork. River himself returned to his desk twenty minutes later to grab his jacket. 

“Where are you going?”

“Lamb wants me to drop a file off at The Park.” River didn’t seem too happy about the idea, but he was going anyway. “Apparently I’m to drop it off with Spider.”

You just rolled your eyes and looked back at your desktop screen. “That dick.”

“Want me to tell him you say hi?” 

“Fuck no.”

Your reply allowed River a small smile. River hated Spider a lot. Nobody could have hated him more. Except for maybe you. And River was just about to see how much more because by the time he’d dealt with another arsehole of a waiting time, he was met with Spider. 

Who’d gained a black eye and a swollen nose since the last time River had seen him. And his wounds looked fresh. 

It was safe to say River came back to the office laughing. But he waited until the end of the day before asking you what he’d been dying to all day. 

“So, what did he do?”

“What did who do?”

River couldn’t help but smile. “Spider. He’s got a black eye and probably a broken nose. Did you do that in just one punch or did you take a couple of swings at him? Maybe I can get Roddy to find the footage.”

“River.”

“Did it feel good?”

You couldn’t hide your smile at his question. “Yes. If you must know, it did. I’ve been waiting years to do that.”

“Can’t you get fired for punching a fellow colleague?”

You shrugged. “Maybe, but I’m already at Slough House. And it’s not like I’ve done any-” 

You stopped yourself before you could talk anymore. 

“Not like you’ve done what?” River pressed. “Wait, what did you do?”

You shook your head. “Nothing, forget I said anything.”

“No, no. You were just about to tell me why you’re in Slough House, weren’t you?”

You shook your head. Ever since you and River were sent to Slough House, you’d not said a word about why you were sent there. Of course, River’s was due to a mistake that nobody higher up the chain wanted to recognise was exactly that; a mistake. Going off the intel he was given, River did a good job. 

But you never explained why. 

Not to anybody. Not even to River. Of course, Lamb knew. He had to know. But you’d, indirectly, sworn him to secrecy surrounding your departure from The Park. 

“Y/n, what did you do?” River seemed more concerned than earlier. “What was so bad that you punching Spider, despite how thankful we both are that you did it, isn’t going to get you fired?”

Finally your bus pulled up and you got on, leaving River standing where he was. “Goodnight, River. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And you did see him the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that. And at no point did he seem willing to let go of your secrecy surrounding why you were at Slough House. 

Until the day came where you finally told him. 

It was almost a year later and things within Slough House had been, to say the least, hectic. One raid, three broken windows, a spray of glass and a whole lot of pain later, you found yourself laying on the concrete floor of an abandoned warehouse after being sprayed with shards of glass. 

And one larger piece had lodged itself into the top of your thigh. 

Trying to keep your breathing steady, you tried to stand but your body wasn’t willing to take anymore pain. 

A whimper left your body as you moved to push yourself to sit up a bit further. Then you heard footsteps. 

“Y/n!”

“Down here!” 

River could already hear the hurt in your voice and as he ran down the stairs and finally made his way to you, he stopped himself for a moment. “Oh, shit.”

“I-I need your help. I can’t move my leg without cutting it…it deeper.”

Swallowing his fear, River nodded and got closer to you. “It’s okay. Just grab onto me. I’m gonna pull you up. Countdown from three?”

You nodded quickly and before you knew it, you were on your feet. 

“Think you can stand?”

You took a moment before nodding and went to take a step. “I think-”

Throwing your arms out to reach for the metal bars beside you, you tried to steady yourself as your legs buckled from underneath you. Only, you were too far from them and you found yourself in River��s arms. 

“Hey, it’s okay. Take it easy.” River looked around him. There was no way of getting you out with you walking. He turned back to you. “I’m gonna lift you.”

“River, no-”

“Shut up and just put your arm around me. Now, it’s going to hurt but the quicker we get out of here, the quicker we can get you home, okay?” Placing your arm around the back of his neck, River counted down once more for you to be able to brace yourself for the pain you were about to feel. 

“One.” With his hand at the crook of your legs, he lifted you and you bit back your cry of pain. You were just thankful the glass hadn’t cut any arteries. 

“Just breathe, just breathe.” River told you over and over as he carried you out of the building. And by the time you both got out, he carried you over and opened up the car door before setting you inside before finally he got into the driver’s seat. 

“Do you want me to take you to the hospital-”

You shook your head. “No. I can fix this myself at home. Don’t take me to the hospital.”

River didn’t need to be told twice and you were home in half the time it took to get to the warehouse. He helped you out of the car and into your house before making his way towards your bathroom where you told him to grab the stool and set it under the shower. 

“What?”

“Just do it.”

He did so in time to turn back and help you step into the tub and sit down before you turned the shower on and grabbed the head of it to clean your leg, watching the blood of the day wash away down the drain, along with smaller shards of glass. 

Once it seemed clean enough, you turned the water off and opened up the draw beneath the sink and grabbed a pair of tweezers. You took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm yourself but River could see your hand still shaking. 

“Here.” Wrapping his hand around yours, he took the tweezers from you before taking off his shoes and socks, stepping into the bath with you and kneeling in front of you. “Let me do it.”

“River.”

“It’s okay. Just keep looking at me.”

You weren’t looking at him, but rather at the glass sticking out of your thigh. “I’m really scared.”

River lifted your head until you looked at him. “Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey.Look at me, you’re gonna be okay. Just keep your eyes on me. That’s it. Just look at me. Don’t look anywhere else but at me, okay?”

“Okay.”

River took one of your hands and laid it on his shoulder. “Just squeeze my shoulder when it hurts.”

“Okay.”

It took him a minute to make sure he could pull it out safely in one go, but once it was out, he felt your fingertips dig into his shoulder as your other leg came up. “Ahh.”

“It’s okay. It’s out. Can I clean it?”

You nodded, your eyes shut tight. “In the-in the drawer, there should be some, uh, some wipes and things for first aid.”

River nodded even though you couldn’t see him and he reached over to open the drawer up. 

“This is gonna sting, but I’ll try and make it quick.”

You nodded, not hearing anything after the word ‘sting’. “Try and make it quick.”

“I will.”

Your fingertips in his shoulder and arm became a constant that River forgot about until you let him go. 

“Lean forward,” River instructed you as he stood up, his jeans wet from the newly cold shower water. “You’ve got glass in your hair.”

From your back, River lightly pulled the bobble from your hair before pushing your head forward and rushing his fingers through your stands to help shake out any glass that was left. 

“Thanks.”

“Come on, I’ll make us some tea.” River offered you his hand as he stepped out of the bathtub. You took it and landed on the bathmat beside him. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired. Sore.”

River just nodded, brushing a hand over your head before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Come on. Let’s go downstairs.”

He led the way but you told him to go ahead since you were slower than usual getting down the stairs and by the time you reached the kitchen, the kettle had nearly finished boiling and River had already started making some food. 

“Your chicken runs out tomorrow.”

“Didn’t know it was planning an escape.” You pulled out a chair before sitting down, and when River brought your cup of tea over, you thanked him. 

“Careful, it’s hot.”

“Thanks.”

And for a while, the kitchen was mostly silent, save for the sound of the oven and pan, as well as the sound of River softly swearing as the oil spat onto the back of his hand. And despite the immense pain you were already in, you laughed a little. 

“What?”

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

“Really? About what?”

“That despite all this pain, watching you cook in my kitchen and burn yourself with a piece of chicken isn’t something I’d ever want to change.”

River opened up your kitchen window. “Can we change me from getting burnt by chicken?”

“Steak then.” 

River gave you a short look. “That’s not what I meant.”

You smiled as you took another drink of your tea. “I know.”

But River just smiled over his shoulder. If he was being honest, he wouldn’t change anything either. He might change you nearly getting killed, but other than that, he wouldn’t change much. But he still found himself asking a question that he was expecting the same answer from, but this time you shocked him. 

“Would you change working at Slough House?”

“No. Especially considering I chose it.”

River slowed down as he walked over to the dinner table with two made up plates of food. “What?”

The information had slipped from your tongue before you could do anything about it. “What?”

“You chose Slough House? Why?”

You couldn’t break River’s gaze as he sat down and you shifted in your seat. You had said it. There was no backing away from it. Maybe it was time you told him anyway. 

So, taking a breath, you figured you start from the beginning. Sort of. 

You hadn’t been there on River’s training exercise, but you’d heard enough about it and knew enough about the people involved to figure out who was telling the truth. 

“When I got word about your departure to Slough House, they told me who I’d be working under. They took me into Webb’s office and told me what I’d be doing, where I could go with it, what my pension and pay would be like and I couldn’t help but hate every single one of them. I couldn’t spend the next fifty years of my life dealing with those sanctimonious pricks. There was only one person who I wanted to work with and he was transferred out. So, I asked to be transferred with him.”

River was silent for a few minutes. “You transferred because of me?”

“No. Well, yes, I suppose so. But, also no. I transferred because I didn’t want the years I’ve put into this job to be for nothing.”

“And you think they’re something at Slough House?”

You shrugged. “Say what you will about that place, in comparison to Spider and his fucking trap, Slough House seems to be one of the few places on this earth where I’m not being wasted. River, I’d rather work with you and do today a thousand times over than work under Spider for eight hours.”

Cutting up your food, you began to eat, and so did River. 

“So what happened when you punched him? Is that why you weren’t worried? Because you’d chosen to come here?”

You nodded. “Good memory.”

“I think I’ll still be thinking of that moment on my deathbed.”

You chuckled a little. “Yeah. Considering I hadn’t actually done anything to get me sent to Slough House, punching Spider would be the first thing to get me sent out of The Park.”

“So why did you?”

“Why did I what?”

“Punch him.” River clarified. “Come on, it can’t be for nothing. Well, it could be and I highly doubt people would blame you but…there’s got to be a reason.”

You looked at River, debating on whether you should tell him the truth or not. 

“He stepped over the line, so I decked him. Offered me a job, not only back at the park but with him. He got too close and too creepy, even for Spider.”

River felt himself tense at your explanation. “Good, I’m glad.” You looked at him. “Not at him being creepy. At you decking him.”

You nodded and stabbed your fork through a piece of chicken. Of course, what you left out of the story was everything else Spider had said to you when he spotted you in the store. 

You’d run in for some packets of pads, a box of snacks, and a few other bits. No part of you wished to stay in the city longer than you had to. All you wanted to do after work was go home and sleep until your body decided to stop punishing you for not being pregnant that month. 

Only, as you rounded one of the shelves, you were met with James Webb, aka Spider. 

“In a rush to get back to the Slough House? Or just in a rush to get back to your boyfriend?”

“Excuse me?”

Turning around, you found Spider smiling at you. “I know how much you care for him. For River. But, does he really care for you? I mean, does he even know what you did for him? Transferring to that shithole, just to stay with him. Does he know what you gave up?”

“Did you just follow me and prepare a speech to give to me? And they say it’s boring at Slough House.”

He just barked a laugh. “Just to think, you could have been working with me.” He stepped closer. “In more ways than one.” He made your skin crawl. “That could still happen, you know.”

“Fuck you, Spider.”

He stepped closer again. “Just say the word-”

“I’ll be doing a lot more, nevermind saying it, if you come any closer.”

“And I can get you back to The Park. You know, we’ve got a few openings you could take. Good money, good people, good office. Nice and quiet. Just think, you’d have me instead of Cartwright.”

“I know,” you answered. “The thought knocks me sick.”

Something stirred in Spider, but your next comment sent his thoughts straight to the gallows. 

“Getting up to go to work and see your face everyday? Fuck, no. I’d rather have no job at MI5 than simply work for you.”

Then his hand landed on your hip. “You don’t mean that. Think about what I can give you, what I’m offering. A life away from Slough House. A life away from someone who doesn’t see what you’ve given up for him.”

“You have three seconds to remove your hand before I do something you’ll regret. Three.”

“Like I said, good money.”

“Two,”

“Good people.”

“One.”

“And a good office.”

Instantly, your fist made direct contact with his face and he was sent stumbling back into one of the shelves, a few tubes of hand cream and bottles of face wash falling onto the floor. 

“I warned you and you didn’t listen.”

Turning around, you placed your stuff into one of the bags before leaving the itemised list you’d brought in with you on the counter and left a twenty pound note. “Keep the change, it should pay for anything that broke.”

The cashier just nodded and you left, but not before hearing Spider’s voice. 

“You’ll regret it one day! You’ll regret choosing them!”

“Fuck you, Spider.”

The doorbell jingled behind you as you left and made your way back to Slough House. 

Once you and River had finished tea, he’d helped you into the sitting room where he sat beside you and you leaned on him, keeping your leg still so the bandage he’d helped wrap around your leg wouldn’t become flooded with blood. 

“Anything good on Telly?”

You chucked him the remote. “Have a look.”

By the time River did find something to put on, you were quickly falling asleep at his side and when he eventually adjusted himself, sinking into your sofa a little more, your weight against him became a little heavier. 

Looking down, he found you fast asleep on his chest and considering the day you’d both had, he didn’t want to wake you. So, turning the telly down and pulling a blanket off the back of the sofa, he covered you up and rested his arm around you. 

Eventually, he fell asleep himself, his breathing evening out to match yours. However, at some point in the night, he must have laid down, twisting until you were pressed between himself and the back of the sofa. 

It wasn’t until the intro of the news rang out through the room that either you or River stirred awake, however when River found someone standing above himself and you, he shot awake. 

But it was just Lamb. 

He turned the TV volume back down. 

“Don’t you two look cozy.” Lamb said before throwing the remote onto the other sofa. “God, waking you two is like trying to wake the dead.”

You moved to open your eyes but then closed them again and rested your head back on River’s chest. You felt like shit, and your entire body was riddled with pain. Lamb could yell at you all you liked, you weren’t ready to deal with the morning. 

“How did you even get in?”

“Well, her passkey isn’t exactly that hard to crack.” Lamb explained. 

“I change it every week,” you gumbled from where you were laying down. 

“10-5-9.” Lamb called out. “Considering it's closest to your birthday and she can’t put in the same code as the last two, I took a guess.”

“Why are you here?”

Lamb stood back a little, hearing your tone. “Aren’t you the perfect morning person! If you must know, I came to make sure you two weren’t dead. I’ve already been around all the hospitals asking about you, then Standish just so happened to tell me that you don’t like the fucking things.”

“Why did you just track our phones?”

“I would do that, except Ho can’t track you when your phones are dead. Just your last known location and since you weren’t at a hospital, or a public library, I figured I’d come here. Glad to see you’re not actually dead.”

Lamb sighed. “Well, since I’m here, I’m making a drink.”

“Tea is in the pot.”

“Got anything stronger?” Lamb asked as he made his way to the kitchen. 

Carefully, River slipped away from you and off the sofa but you just groaned. “Careful.”

“Sorry. I’ll get you some paracetamol.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s not even nine!” River called out after Lamb as he met him in the kitchen. 

“Does she have coffee here?”

River gestured up to the cupboard before deciding to make it himself. “Up here.”

“Ooh, you seem to know your way around.”

River rolled his eyes. “She’s lived here for years.”

“And it’s not your first time staying over?”

River didn’t get a chance to say anything. “Relax, the others already know.”

“Know what?”

Lamb for the second time was taken aback. “I know I’m old but I’m not fucking blind. Well, not that blind.”

“Blind to what?”

River filled the kettle with cold water before setting it to boil. 

“I have two agents that came into Slough House go missing together, and then I find them all cozy and snuggled up together, giving off all the signs it’s not their first time to be in such a position. What do you think I’m not blind to?”

River shook his head. “We’re just friends.”

Lamb just laughed and shook his head. “Neither of you have been just friends for a long time. Even if you haven’t done anything about it yet. And I would, if I were you. It’s not every day your best friend turns out to be the one decent human being you’d prefer to spend the rest of your life with.”

Pulling out his packet of cigarettes, he started making his way out of the kitchen. “I thought you wanted coffee!”

“Like you said, it’s only nine. Maybe the pub on the corner is finally open. Y/L/N, if I see you or Cartwright before Monday morning, you’re both fired!” River met him by the door, your spare set of keys being thrown at him. “In the meantime, maybe do something about that before someone else does.”

As Lamb walked back down the street and towards his car, he slipped into the driver's seat and watched the door to your home close. 

“So, were they together?”

Lamb looked at Standish. “Don’t you have anything better to do with your time than trying to set those two up?”

“What’s so wrong with wanting them to finally admit the truth to each other?”

“I didn’t say there was anything wrong with it.” Lamb defended himself. “Jesus, Standish, do you really think I’m that heartless?”

Starting his engine, he pulled away down the street and back towards Slough House. Meanwhile, inside your home, you’d finally taken some painkillers and found River back by your side. 

“What did he want?”

“What?”

“Lamb. What did he talk about in the kitchen?”

“Oh, nothing. Just work.”

“Just work?”

River nodded, his mind still turning over his last conversation. It wasn’t the first time someone had told him about his affection towards you, after all he had the same conversation with his grandfather anytime he saw you with his grandson. But it was the first time he had thought about what would happen if he opened himself up to admitting the truth. 

“What would you say if I asked you on a date?”

You were silent for a moment before you lifted yourself up from his chest to look at him. “What?”

River shook his head. “Nothing. Forget I said anything, I shouldn’t have said it. Where’s the remote? There’s gotta be something other than the news. Shit, it’s over- I’ll get it-”

River went to get up but you pressed a firm hand on his chest. “Repeat it.”

“What?”

“Repeat what you just said.”

River leaned back, a little defeated. “Please don’t make me.”

“Just..do it.” 

River sighed and found just enough courage to look you in your eyes. “What would you say if I asked you on a date?”

You couldn’t help but smile a little. “Are you nervous?”

“No. Maybe. A little. Why?”

“Because you’ve gone red,” you smiled, pressing a light hand to his cheek. Under your hand you could feel River’s own smile, despite him turning his head. 

“Ugh, forget I said anything.”

“Ask me properly.”

River looked at you. “What?”

“If you want my actual answer, ask me properly.”

“Really?”

“Really.” 

You could see River assessing you as he sat up a little before he finally decided to ask you properly. 

“Would you want to go on a date with me?”

River’s heart had never beat so fast or hard in his chest. Part of him felt like his lungs were about to collapse as you looked at him, slight wonder in your eyes and your smile soft on your lips. 

“Yes. I would.”

Your answer nearly blew River out of the water, especially since in the two seconds of silence he’d convinced himself you were just doing this to reject him or let him down easy. 

“W-What? Really?”

You nodded. “If you’re actually asking, I’d love to.”

“I, uh, I-Yea. Yeah. Sorry, yes. Yes. I’m-I’m asking. Really, you would?”

You nodded, laughing a little at his reaction. “Yeah. I would.”

“Okay, then.”

You smiled. “Okay.”

“I don’t know where to go from here.” River soon admitted. “I didn’t think this far ahead.”

“You can kiss me if you want to.”

Reaching out, River pushed your hair behind your ear. “I think I’d like that.”

It took a moment, but finally, with your head in his hands, River kissed you. And once you stopped, you both couldn’t help but laugh a little. “This feels weird.”

“Good weird or bad weird?”

You nodded. “Good, weird. Definitely.”

River smiled. “Good. It feels the same for me, too.”

With your hand against his cheek, you pulled him in to kiss you again. It would be another day before either of you would leave your house since the cut on your leg meant immense pain if you walked more than up and down the stairs once every couple of hours. 

But in the meantime, you’d both come to find what felt like a ‘good weird’ was no longer weird but just simply good. Like it was always meant to be the norm between you both. 

And it was safe to say everyone else was glad you’d done something about it since Cathrine, who couldn’t wipe the smile off her face, knew the minute you both walked into work on Monday morning. Roddy found out the hard way when he decided to flirt with you a little too hard in front of River, which resulted in River kicking Roddy’s chair before standing in between both yourself and him. Of course, Lamb swore a thanks to God the minute he walked out of the room, letting the others in on what was going on. 

But either way, it became a new normal and eventually you’d tell River the full truth about why you’d punched Spider. Or, maybe not considering his reaction at your kitchen table when you told him only half of the story. Either way, both you and River were thankful for your new normal, and nothing would ever change that. In fact, everything that Slough House threw at you both only brought you closer together.